It took a week and a half, by Prince Manor time-three weeks by real world time- even with Severus and Harry using magic, to fix up most of the rooms they would be living in. Luckily over half the rooms in the mansion were furnished, as Severus's grandmother had had an eye for a well made piece of furniture and didn't buy anything cheap. Which was a good thing, because neither Harry or Severus had ever gone furniture shopping before. They managed to fix up the dining room, it had a huge table large enough to seat fifty people comfortably, and many strange crests upon the wall that Severus said were from the fae lords Houses.

"There's a book in the library you can read that details the Houses of the High Court, I think it might interest you to look at it, that way you can familiarize yourself with the crests in the dining room." Severus suggested.

The library and the den were two of the rooms that had escaped the ravages of time, since they had many preserving spells cast upon them. The library was nearly as vast as the one at Hogwarts, Harry knew Hermione would've been in her glory here. Severus had explained to him that it was divided by section and the magical books were further divided by category-Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, etc.-and alphabetized. But some books were deemed too dangerous for a chance wizard's apprentice or child to handle and those were kept in another section and set about with wards that would blister your fingers or make the book blank when you opened it. Only those who knew the word to deactivate the ward could read them, and Severus told Harry to stay away from them.

"There are plenty of beginning and intermediate spellbooks that you can study in here excluding the curses and battle spells. Unless you fancy blistered fingers, that is. And mark me, mister, if I find you've been touching books in that section, I won't lift a finger to heal you, and you can suffer for your folly just like a normal disobedient child."

"Okay, sir. I won't be going near them, trust me." Harry promised. He had enough to handle just with the spells Severus was reviewing with him, never mind going off looking for something dangerous. Severus also gave him a set of journals written by his ancestor, Severus Prince, to read, saying they would explain more about his heritage and the manor and that they were very interesting.

Harry read a little each night before he went to sleep and found the story of Severus Prince fascinating. Sometimes the language was a little archaic and hard to follow, but then he would ask his father to clarify it and Severus would help him understand what was meant.

Harry's room was just down the hall from his father's, it was the first in a series of four guest quarters, each with a different elemental theme. Severus had allowed Harry to choose the room he liked best, and Harry, being a Gryffindor, chose the room decorated in crimson and gold, representing the element of fire. It had a large four poster bed done in a thick crimson and gold comforter, with small flames and cats dancing across it. The heavy damask drapes were done in crimson, with gold tassels. The carpet was golden, and the furniture was a deep mahogany. There was a large desk, a chair with a plump cushion upon it, a nightstand, armoire, closet and dresser. The wallpaper had small tongues of flame that popped in and out like they were flickering.

Harry loved it. His room even had a small fireplace and a container of Floo powder, though Severus warned him never to use it. "There are scramble charms placed over all the fireplaces here, so if you try to Floo you'll go nowhere and end up with a migraine the size of China."

Severus had winced when he saw the room his son had picked out, muttering something about a "typical Gryffindor". The Potion Master's own room, the master bedroom, was done in shades of deep blue and forest green, and had a bed that could've slept six comfortably, a sitting room and an adjoining bath, plus a walk-in closet. Severus spent half a day just cleaning and rearranging the closet, and the bedroom as well.

There was another bathroom across the hall from Harry's room and five other rooms on that wing that were extra bedrooms. On the east wing, was the kitchen, which was a huge stone and brick affair, and part of it had a huge hearth that Severus said was once used to roast whole boar and deer on spits back in the days when knights still roamed Britain. But the hearth was the only thing left from those days, the rest of the kitchen looked pretty modern, with a sink, oven, stove, and an icebox. The icebox was magical, and Snape said it could produce nearly any kind of food you needed, and then store it at the right temperature. Beneath the sink were several cleaners, dish soap and sponges. A mop, bucket, and a broom and dustpan were in the corner next to the gigantic fireplace.

The fireplace was dusty and dirty and one of Harry's first jobs was to clean out all the old ash, dirt, and small mouse skeletons. The mice had ventured in and starved to death, according to the Potions Master. Harry shuddered, for such a gruesome death was awful to think about.

Often, Severus worked side by side with his son, using magic to speed up the process when necessary, but Harry was astonished to discover that the Potions Master wasn't above getting his hands dirty when necessary. He personally scrubbed and cleaned the potions lab, which was the last room on the east wing, himself until the place shone. He also set to rights the study, and kept his more commonly used magical texts and personal papers in the desk drawer.

There were a few unused rooms that they didn't bother cleaning, mostly filled with broken items and junk. Severus explained that one room had once been a conservatory, with a big planter filled with exotic flowers and shrubs when his grandmother had been alive, but the garden had since died out and Severus had never bothered replacing it. There were also three other rooms that were locked and Severus said they were to remain that way.

"My grandfather was a collector of rare and unusual magical objects. He had many that were cursed and dangerous and those are what he kept inside those locked rooms. The manor knows this, and will not open those rooms to any but myself. Not even the heir apparent can get inside them, and no unlocking charm will undo the locks either."

The manor, according to Severus, was not quite sentient, but it was aware that it was once again occupied by the heir and another wizard, and it rejoiced at being lived in. Harry soon discovered that the temperature in his room was always comfortable, never too hot or too cold, and when he took a shower, the bathroom mirror never fogged up and the water was always just the right temperature. The towels upon the rack were usually warmed before he used one and they smelled fresh and clean, even if he had not washed them yet. Small enchantments, the Potions Master remarked, when Harry brought them to his attention. Typical of the fae folk.

The laundry room was in the west wing, near what would have been the servant's quarters, had they had any real servants. Severus and Harry took turns doing the laundry, which was super easy once Severus showed Harry the charms to clean and mend clothes and dry them. "But if you ever earn a grounding from me, Harry, one of your chores will be to do laundry by hand," his father warned, and indicated the old washtub and old-fashioned wringer in the corner of the room. "Then you'll find out the meaning of work!"

Harry quickly resolved not to get into trouble, which wasn't hard, considering the only other person in the manor he had to interact with was his father.

Later on in the week, Severus went to Diagon Alley to purchase potion ingredients from the apothecary there, and restock his basic supplies and buy more herbs and cuttings to begin an herb garden, which was essential for a Potions Master. The potions lab at the manor was well-stocked with rare herbs and ingredients, but the more common ones were absent, and it was those that Severus needed.

While Severus shopped, Harry took a break from reading the first Severus's journal and went flying. The grounds of the Prince estate were vast, and there was no way Harry could ever be seen, since the grounds were bordered by the Evermist, which not only protected the estate from any wizard or creature trying to gain access in the mortal realm, but also prevented any creature from Faerie entering as well.

The estate had a small forest upon it, with the usual kinds of woodland creatures, even a small pack of wolves, which Harry knew would never venture out of their territory, and a herd of deer. Sometimes the deer could be seen browsing on the tender grass on the lawn early in the morning.

A medium-sized pond was also upon the grounds, and it had several sycamores and willows around it, and a few benches where you could sit and watch the water or fish. The pond had many varieties of fish, all edible, and Harry learned from Severus how to bait a hook and cast, and soon he was able to bring home fresh fish for dinner at least one day out of the week.

To the southwest of the pond was a small orchard, and it had a row of every kind of fruit bearing tree Harry could think of. There were apple trees, three different kinds, pear trees, plum trees, cherry trees, peach trees, lemon trees, orange trees, even a fig tree and a pineapple plant. Grape vines grew up an arbor and a strawberry and blackberry patch was next to them. Harry tried to figure out how all of those fruit trees could grow in the same region, because some of them were tropical and others temperate.

But that was the magic of Faerie, its soil grew whatever was planted in it, and once planted, it thrived. There was an odd shaped tree with curious purplish-red heart-shaped fruit that Harry didn't recognize. Snape said it was a fairy fruit called merlinna, and sweet as sugar, it tasted like a cross between a peach and a melon, though it could only be picked at the dawn's early light. Otherwise the fruit from it was sour and hard.

Harry glimpsed several merlinnas ripening as he few by on his broom and resolved to get up at dawn tomorrow and pick them, he was dying for a taste of them. He made several circuits of the house and the pond and forest, flying at the fastest speed the Firebolt could give him. He wished the manor had a Quidditch pitch, then he could play Quidditch with Snape, assuming the professor played that is. But he had refereed a match back during first year, so he must know how to play, Harry thought, wondering if he would ever get up courage to ask his father to play.

While Severus was not as forbidding or snarky as he had been back at Hogwarts, he was still imposing and Harry was not sure how far he could go with him before he reverted to his old ways. Thus far they had been getting along pretty well, and Harry had even seen the man smile on rare occasions. Hedwig had the run of the manor inside and out, and the snowy owl was perfectly content, hunting mice in the fields and then coming back to Harry's room to roost during the day.

After his flight, Harry returned to his room, thinking he might as well write Sirius and get it over with. He had been putting off writing to his godfather ever since his birthday, because he wasn't sure how the man would react to the news that his best friend had been played for a fool by his own wife and the baby he'd thought was his was in fact Severus's.

He posted it with Hedwig that afternoon, then went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich, washed down with a cold glass of apple juice. Afterwards, he settled on the couch in the den and read some more of the first Prince half-blood's journal. Severus Prince had been everywhere during his lifetime, and seen everything there was to see in both the mortal realm and the Fairie one. His journal was several volumes long and so far Harry was on the beginning of the second one.

He heard the Potion Master's soft footstep in the hallway and quickly set the journal aside and went to go and help him with the purchases he had made. "Did you find everything you needed, sir?"

"Yes, I did, and a few things I wasn't expecting as well. I picked up a copy of the Prophet for you, Harry, and another little surprise you might enjoy, but you can't have it until you help me put these ingredients away." Severus said, handing his son the copy of the paper.

"Okay." Harry agreed, placing the paper upon the sofa and following the Potions Master down the east wing to the lab.

It took the better part of an hour and a half before all the ingredients were stored to Severus's exacting standard, and then the Potions Master suggested they get some supper.

They ate quietly in the kitchen at the large pine table, it was more comfortable in there than the dining room, which Harry found formal and stuffy. Tonight they had steak with gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans and hot buttered rolls. Harry ate nearly everything upon his plate, he was starving and for some reason being at the manor increased his appetite.

Now that he was getting regular meals every day, he began to lose that scrawny look and to fill out a little, Severus was pleased to note. Perhaps by summer's end, he would have put on a decent amount of weight and look more like a normal fourteen-year-old instead of a refugee from a third world country.

Gradually, they were becoming more comfortable with one another, and Severus had not had any problems with his son with regards to chores, although considering how the Dursleys had treated him, Snape figured Harry must consider the tasks Severus set him to be easy as pie. "What did you do today, Harry?' he asked, since he had not seen the boy since breakfast that morning.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of potatoes before answering, "I, uh, finished weeding the little garden out back and then I went flying and read some more of Sev Half Blood's journal."

"He's an interesting character, our ancestor," remarked the Potions Master, nibbling on a roll. "Went everywhere known to man in those days and learned many things in his travels." He glanced over at Harry's plate, which was nearly empty. "Are you finished with your supper?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then I hope you saved some room for dessert. That's your surprise." Severus waved his wand and two bowls of ice cream appeared in front of them. "I stopped in at the ice cream shoppe before coming home. I figured after we've worked so hard, we needed a treat. I hope you like chocolate and vanilla swirl."

"I do, and thank you, Severus." Harry said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream sundae. He hadn't had ice cream in three months, Dudley usually ate the whole carton in two days, the big pig. He took some on his spoon and ate it slowly, savoring the creamy sweet taste.

Severus ate his own, watching the obvious delight as Harry ate, knowing that was the hallmark of a child neglected, that he took such simple pleasure out of a mere bowl of ice cream. Once again he cursed Vernon Dursley to the depths of hell, and wished he dared to stay and mete out some more justice to the cruel man. But Harry had to come first, and so he had to forgo his revenge upon the whale in men's clothing.

Harry ate as slowly as he could, wanting to make it last, but all too soon the bowl was empty and the only thing that lingered was the last spoonful of chocolate and nuts and whipped cream upon his tongue. He pushed his bowl away and stood up, feeling pleasantly full, and said, "Thank you again, sir. I haven't had ice cream in I can't remember how long."

He made a beckoning motion with his wand, and the bowls, dishes, forks, knives, and spoons flew into the sink, and Harry began to wash them. He could have used a Scourgify spell, but strangely, he found the motions of rinsing and washing calming, and so he washed the bowls by hand, the Muggle way. Severus permitted him to use some magic here, but Harry knew he was carefully monitored by the older wizard, and if he misused his magic, Severus would most likely take his wand away.

When he had done washing, Severus dried, but unlike previous nights, the elder wizard did not use magic, but a dishtowel. Harry raised an eyebrow at that, until his father gave him a mild look and asked, "Yes? What are you staring for? Surely you've seen a person dry dishes?"

"Err . . .yeah, but I thought . . .that all you wizards used magic to do it."

"I find that relying on magic for every little thing grows tiresome. It takes just as much energy and effort to do things with a spell as it does with one's hands. Magic may make a task quicker, but you still pay a cost to use it, and there are times when I think it easier to simply do a task without it. Relying too heavily on anything is not good, it is far too easy to become dependent on it, and then it's like an addiction. That's why I make you do certain chores the Muggle way, so you don't come to rely on magic for everything."

Severus had finished drying by then and stacked the plates neatly in the cabinet above the sink and put the silverware away in the drawer beside the icebox. Today he was wearing a casual green robe and black trousers with a lighter green shirt beneath it. Without the black professor's robe, Severus was much less intimidating, and Harry found the professor more approachable than before.

Enough so Harry managed to gather enough courage to ask Severus about his mother while they were both in the den, seated in front of the merrily crackling fire, Harry with Sev Half-Blood's journal in his lap, and his father with a rare potions text he'd picked up that day at Flourish and Blotts.

"Uh . . .Severus? Can I ask you a question?"

Severus looked up from his potions book. "Yes, Harry, you may ask me a question."

"Umm . . .can you tell me something about my mother? I . . .I can barely remember her face, and nothing else except the color of her hair and the way she used to sing to me at night." That was all the memories he had of Lily, her voice, the sweep of her deep auburn hair across her face, the way she smiled. The only other memory he had of her was that awful day when Voldemort had come calling, and she had died defending him, screaming at the dark wizard not to hurt her baby. But that memory was not one he wished to dwell on, and so he had asked Severus to provide him with a different one.

Severus thought for a moment, then recalled that he still had a snapshot of Lily, taken during their school days, and he summoned it to him. "Here. You can keep this, it was taken by me during our fourth year, while she walked along the shore of the Black Lake." He handed the precious photo to Lily's son.

Harry cradled it in his hands. In it his mum was smiling into the camera, or perhaps at Severus behind the camera, she was wearing her school uniform, though he saw she had sneakily braided a green hair ribbon into the side of her head, showing her secret love for Severus, perhaps? Lily looked bright and cheerful, her green eyes glowing with life, her auburn hair curling in little tendrils about her face.

"She's so pretty," Harry managed to say at last, a lump coming into his throat. "I didn't remember her being so pretty."

"No reason why you should. You were only a baby, barely a year and a few months, you're lucky you remember anything of them at all. But that's the Prince blood in you, it makes for prodigious memories." Severus said quietly. "Yes, Lily was quite pretty, but her looks alone weren't all she had going for her. She was a top scholar, she loved to learn new things, was forever inventing new charms and assisting me with potions. She loved potions, the same as I did, we were usually partners during class. She was also very kind and loving, she loved me even when I thought I was undeserving of it. She saw good in nearly everyone. There were only two people she really disliked in school, one of them was Peter Pettigrew and the other was Lucius Malfoy. Even James she found more of an annoyance than anything else. But those two she hated."

"Merlin, I wonder why?" Harry said sarcastically. "Both of them are in league with Voldemort."

"Lily was a wonderful judge of character," Severus admitted softly. "She judged me on myself and not the fact that I was a Slytherin."

"How did you two meet? Aunt Petunia said she knew you when you were a kid."

"Yes, she did. The Evanses were neighbors of mine, they lived in the house next to me. Though their house didn't look like it was falling down, because Henry Evans took pride in something other than drinking his poker mates under the table. My father was too lazy or too drunk to be bothered fixing up our house, and my mother worked long hours for a potions manufacturer, brewing, so she had no time to repair it with magic. She had also promised my father to never work magic around him." Severus shook his head. "Their marriage was not a happy one, they quarreled endlessly, and to escape it I often went down to the park nearby and played by myself on the swings. I was shy and quiet and I didn't have any friends because they all knew I was the charity case, wearing secondhand clothes, and their mothers forbade them to associate with the likes of me."

"You've gotta be kidding!"

"Oh no. I overheard a mother saying that to her son one day. "You don't want to play with that boy, Johnny, there's no telling where he's been. Just look at his clothes, bet they came straight from the ragshop. Stay away from him, son, he might give you fleas.' Ah, they were so kind, the women of the neighborhood," Severus related with a sneer. "Before long, the other local children wouldn't play with me, and so I learned to play by myself. Until I met Lily. The Evans were newcomers to the neighborhood and they didn't follow what the established folks did, for the most part. Betsy Evans, Lily's mum, came right over the second day she moved in to say hello and she gave my mother and I a plate of homemade scones. Her daughters were similar, though Petunia always tried to act more grown-up than Lily or me, and sometimes she could be a bossy prig."

"That sounds like Aunt Petunia, all right."

"But even Tuney had her good side. While she could boss us around, no one else could. And woe to anyone who thought we were fair game to tease and hurt. Once she beat up a bully that used to terrorize all the younger children on the playground."

Harry goggled. "Aunt Petunia beat up a boy?"

"Yes. His name was Nate Simpson and all of us smaller ones were petrified of him. He was around nine or ten and he used to swagger around and steal all the five-year-old's snacks and trip and push us. But one day he made the mistake of trying to bully Lily. He pushed her and knocked her down, I jumped on him and tried to pummel him, but I was too little to do much damage, we were only seven then, and he ended up giving me a bloody nose. Well, there we were, bleeding and crying, and here comes Tuney, mad as wet cat. She lit into that Nate Simpson like a Fury, kicking him and pummeling him so bad that he ran away bawling all the way back to his mother. We were all grateful to her, me especially, since I used to be Nate's favorite target."

"I'd of loved to have seen that!" Harry grinned. "Who would've thought?"

"That was how I first met Lily, she was in the park with Petunia, on the swings. And she jumped off the swing and flew through the air for about five seconds. Petunia yelled at her, of course, for doing magic where someone besides the family could see, but Lily couldn't help it. Accidental magic is just that, accidental. That was when I came up to them and told Lily the truth of what she was. Petunia thought I was cracked, but then I showed her some of my own magic, we Princes are fairly good with illusions and such, and I made a flower appear out of thin air, it was only illusion, but it knocked the socks off of Petunia.

"Then Lily started telling me how she had made other things happen too, like changing her cat's fur from orange to green and making blue spots on the wall and summoning a mug to her. Before I knew it, I had made a new friend. Two, if I was counting Petunia. Everyday that I could, I met them in the park and before long we were playing in Lily's backyard too. Mrs. Evans always had lunch for us, and I was able to count on at least one meal a day that was nutritious and filling. It was also one place I didn't have to fear my father coming after me with the back of his hand, he was much like your uncle, nasty as a cornered viper and when he drank, which was most of the time, he was worse."

Harry just remained with his mouth open. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought Snape, the indomitable Severus Snape, terror of the dungeons, had been abused as a child, the way Harry had been. But that was what his father was saying.

"Did . . .did Mum know . . .about your dad, I mean?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, she learned eventually. There were times I was unable to hide what he did to me, and she and Petunia knew. They helped me sometimes, putting some ice and medicine on my cuts. Lily used to threaten to make a dragon come and take my father away, and once she offered to let me stay in her room if I ran away from home. We remained friends even after we were in school, and sorted into different Houses."

"Was that when you . . .er. . . started going out?" Harry felt himself blush at the bold question.

Severus hesitated, unsure of how much detail he wished to go into, but then he replied at last to his son's query.

"Not until our fourth year, but yes, it was then we started going out. Which was not always easy, believe me. At that time, the sentiment against Muggleborns was running very high, especially in my House, and some of my Housemates considered me a traitor for dating Lily. Not that I cared what they thought. I would have walked through fire for her. James and Black and Lupin and Pettigrew were all dead set against Lily being with me, they ambushed me on several occasions and tried to teach me the error of my ways." Here Severus grimaced slightly, as if in remembered pain. "It didn't take. Potter pursued her relentlessly, but she would have none of him. She called him an arrogant bullying toe rag and she told him to go and find a girl who liked him as much as he liked himself."

"Ouch! Bet that hurt."

"James had a thick skin," Severus snorted. "He tried to date her several times and each time she refused, and said she couldn't, for she had already made up her mind. She remained true to me and we would have married were it not for my ruse to declare myself dead. That was Professor Dumbledore's idea, it was a way to keep myself from having to fight against my allies in the final battle against Voldemort. I didn't want to do it, and I wanted most of all, to tell Lily it was a trick, rather than make her believe I had died, but Albus was most insistent. No one besides us could know, and then I was to remain hidden until he declared it safe for me to return. Then he would make sure the Ministry knew that I had been his secret agent and brought no charges against me.

"So I faked my own death, we pretended that Albus had "killed" me in a duel, along with seven other Death Eaters, which we really did kill, and I went underground, hiding here in the manor. But Dumbledore misjudged the extent of Lily's grief and James's persistence, and neither of us knew that Lily was pregnant with you. When she decided to accept James and give you a father, Albus thought it was best if I did not return to witness it, and so he never told me until after you were born."

Severus's eyes flashed. "When I returned at last to our world, I found my life in tatters, the woman I loved married to another and had borne him a child, and I had nothing save my wits and my revenge against Voldemort to live for. So I agreed, once more, to take up the mantle of spy for the Order, and returned from the dead and wormed my way back into the Dark Lord's good graces. You know the rest of the tale, Harry."

Harry stared down at the picture, his eyes filling with tears. "I wish. . .I wish things had been different . . ." he murmured, half to himself.

"As do I, son," came Severus's quiet whisper. "She was all the light and warmth in this world. God and Merlin bear witness, I have never loved any woman the way I did Lily, and probably never shall again."

They were quiet then, each of them mourning the loss of the bright red-haired young woman who had given her heart to one and her life to the other, and had left both forever changed and poorer for her loss.

Harry didn't even realize he was crying, until the tears fell upon the snapshot and blurred Lily's face. Then he quickly blotted the picture with his sleeve and his eyes as well. But more tears welled up and he found himself choking back sobs. Not wanting to fall apart in front of his father, Harry quickly got to his feet and left the room, ignoring Severus's query, "Harry, is something the matter?"

He fled as quickly as he dared back to his bedroom, and it was there, safe behind closed doors, that he allowed himself to cry for what might have been, for the life that should have been his, and for the mother he never knew.

Severus followed after a moment, fearing that Harry was ill and unwilling to tell him, but when he saw his son heading into his bedroom, he realized this was an illness of a different kind. Muffled sobs drifted to the Potion Master's ears from beneath the bedroom door, and Severus considered going in to offer what little comfort he could, but then he rejected that idea. He's probably embarrassed and doesn't want you to see him that way. Adolescents are so touchy at this age, you don't want to make him feel even more awkward and ashamed, he thought to himself.

If Harry had wanted comfort from him, he wouldn't have gone away to his room to cry in private. Severus feared if he went in there now, he would only make things worse, but he lingered outside the door, unable to make himself leave, listening to his child weep and feeling utterly useless and horrible.

At last he forced himself to leave, returning to the den for a moment to pour himself a quick nightcap of a potent fae liquor called summerdew-the name was deceptive, for summerdew was extremely potent, stronger than any alcohol a wizard ever distilled-and Severus barely filled his glass halfway before he drank it down. He rarely, make that almost never indulged in alcohol, with his past he didn't dare, but once in a blue moon he drank. This was one of those times.

Summerdew, the pale golden liquid made from the nectar of certain flowers in the Faerie Realm, went down his throat like a silken caress, and once it hit his stomach, caused a pleasant burning sensation that quickly spread throughout his whole body. He quickly corked the bottle and set it back on the sideboard, where it normally was kept. Knowing he would be asleep in a few minutes, for summerdew tended to have that effect on mortals, even mortals with fae blood, Severus set the tumbler down on the end table and made his way to his bedroom.

He just managed to get into his night clothes before falling asleep.

* * * * *

Back in the crimson room, Harry cried until he was exhausted, giving vent to tears he hadn't known he'd been suppressing. But once he started, he found he couldn't stop, and so he cried himself out, wishing for a brief instant that Severus had come after him. He needed a shoulder to cry on very badly, even though he hated to admit it. Yet at the same time he didn't want his father to think he was a weak whiny crybaby. But Severus didn't come and Harry fell asleep at last.

But his sleep was plagued by nightmares, the old dreams of dementors circling, surrounding him by the hundreds, and he was unable to move, his wand was gone, and they were closing in on him, their skeletal fingers rustling sharply, clicking together ominously, fear spreading from them like a wave and permeating down through to his soul. He trembled in sudden agony, his throat frozen and unable to call for help, and then they drifted even closer, hands reaching up to unmask themselves and let him catch a glimpse of that most hideous face, with the lips blood red and rows of teeth like a vampire.

He began to moan and thrash about.

"No! No! Not the hood . . .! Don't look! Turn away!"

He felt the bony hand grasp his wrist and draw him close and hiss before the monster tried to Kiss him. "NO!" he shouted, then he woke up.

He was sweating and shaking, his covers had all been kicked off the bed, and he did not know for an instant where he was. Then he saw the room clearly when he put on his glasses and remembered where he was. This was Prince Manor and Severus probably wanted to shake him for being such a crybaby.

He kept seeing the dementors in his mind, the way they reached out to him, wraiths from night's dark tomb, cold as the grave that had spawned them, and suddenly he was trembling from head to foot, shaking like a leaf. He hugged his knees to his chest, wondering if he dared to wake up his father. He glanced at the clock by his bed, it read 1:30 AM.

Harry knew from experience that he would never be able to get back to sleep without some kind of help, and he crept down the hall to the den, still hearing Lily's dying scream in his head. He wanted to get a glass of milk and warm it up to drink. Someone had mentioned once that warm milk helped you go to sleep, Harry prayed it was so.

But on his way into the kitchen, he spied the tumbler and the half-empty bottle of summerdew on the sideboard. Now there was something else that the adults were always going on about-drinking. He recalled hazily that Aunt Petunia had said that a glass of sherry-a nightcap, she called it--helped you sleep.

God, he needed the sleep! And release from the awful dreams!

Without thinking it through, yet knowing in the back of his mind, he should not touch this alcohol, that he was not old enough to drink responsibly, that it was probably a huge mistake to do so, Harry picked up the small bottle of fae cordial. But when he uncorked the bottle, the smell that wafted out was just like home. It smelled of lemons and peaches and a hint of strawberries, of fields golden with corn and hay and cloudless days filled with laughter and sunshine.

He poured an entire glass full and then he drank it down, unaware of the side-effects. It tasted so good! No wonder people drank till they were drunk, if this is what alcohol tasted like. He poured himself another glass, and drank that too, finishing the bottle. Now his eyelids were growing extremely heavy and he had to shut them. No, not here, Harry. Get to the couch, man, quick! urged his conscience.

He just managed to stagger over to the couch before passing out.