Sometime in the night, Harry had awoken – a little confused as to where he was – but soon the rhythmic breathing of his father laying next to him reassured him and, after placing his back up against his father’s, letting the warmth seep into – and comfort – him, he was soon back asleep.

****

The next morning Harry arose to the smells of bacon and coffee wafting past his nose. His father had already left the bed and had apparently ordered breakfast instead of heading up to the Great Hall. He fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and after putting them on, grabbed his dressing gown, slid his feet into his slippers and headed out to the lounge, shrugging the robe over his shoulders and leaving the ties to dangle loosely from the belt loops.

Severus was sitting at the table, with a copy of the Prophet in his one hand while sipping coffee with the other. He was already washed, shaved and dressed for classes, only needing to don his teaching robes, which hung near Salazar’s portrait.

“‘Morning, Severus,” Harry mumbled as he slumped into his chair and began measuring out his potion into his juice before serving himself some breakfast from the still steaming servers.

Severus lowered the paper to look at his dishevelled son. “Is it good? I’m not sure, looking at you,” he said, concerned.

“I guess I’m still a bit depressed about yesterday.” He looked up from where he had been fiddling with his eggs, not really eating them as much as shredding them. “Is he really gone for good?”

“Yes, Harry, he is,” the older man reassured him. “Whit told me last night he watched as they had him kissed by the Dementors and pushed through the veil.”

“What’s the veil?”

“A chamber down in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry. It is a very ancient portal that leads to the underworld – never to return. The Ministry was built over this bit of otherworld magic; it has been there since before Merlin’s time – no one quite knows where it came from. However, they do know that anyone who goes through it, dies. It has been used as the death penalty for wizarding Britain for centuries,” he explained.

Harry mulled over this while finally taking a few bites of his breakfast. “I guess – I guess I can’t quite believe he’s finally gone, that I don’t have to ever worry about being sent back there, or look over my shoulder wondering if he’s going to ambush me. I should be happy, but I’m not. Why is that?” he wondered.

“I’m sure it has to do somewhat with relief and the fact that you haven’t quite internalised the knowledge. It will take awhile, son, trust me – I know.” He opened the paper again as if to return to his reading.

“How?” Harry asked after a moment.

“Hmm?” Severus answered distractedly. He had spotted an article in the Potions Weekly column on the newfound properties of Dragon Lichen, which was only found in the dragon preserves of Romania.

“How do you know?” Harry insisted, dropping his fork on his plate. “How do you know I will be better and that I’ll eventually be okay with this. …” He waved his hand in the air to indicate the entirety of his situation from yesterday.

Severus gazed over at his son for a moment before folding his paper back up and setting it down beside his breakfast plate. “Because, I went through much the same feelings when my father was killed in a dockside brawl, soon after I left Hogwarts. He abused me much like your uncle did to you – although without the rape. His specialty was his belt and his fist. With people like that, who have treated you as dirt or lower, you should not be expected to have to feel much regret at their demise. I mourned what my father had been – when he had first married my mother - but not what he became; I had no compassion for that.”

Harry had totally abandoned his breakfast in favour of studying the worn-down stones of the floor beneath his feet. “Then it’s alright to feel what I do? Because, in a way, I’m glad he died, as he won’t be coming after me! Isn’t that wrong? Shouldn’t I feel some sort of remorse?” His haunted eyes sought out his father’s, and Severus felt a renewed sense of protectiveness and love for this child of his.

“No, Harry, it isn’t wrong. You can feel sorry for them, that they were so prejudiced and small minded that they couldn’t see what a wonderful child you are, and how special you have been and shall be. That was their loss. You can feel sorry for that – but don’t try to look for feelings for them that you don’t have, they don’t deserve the consideration. You are not a bad person for feeling this way – just very normal.” He tapped the table to send the food back to the kitchens.

“Dudley’s probably going to hate me now, he’ll blame me for tearing his family apart. He’s essentially an orphan now…”

“Yes, he is. However, you are not to blame, Harry. Your aunt and uncle, and Dudley, chose to treat you the way they did. They wrought their own rewards for that – not you. You suffered their tyranny and abuse; you are not to blame. Perhaps, instead of blaming you, your cousin will learn that such actions have consequences; serious consequences.”

“I can only hope,” Harry said quietly. Severus came over and gently drew his son into a hug, letting the boy linger there a moment. He felt along the bond that they both drew strength from the simple act of compassion and love. He resolved that they should do this more often. He eventually let go with a squeeze to Harry’s shoulders as he looked into his son’s eyes.

“Do you want to go to class today?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow,” Harry explained.

“Alright, why don’t you go get ready for the day; Whitney will be here at ten o’clock to check on you and then we shall have lunch together. Draco will probably be by this afternoon with your missed lessons from yesterday and today.” He laid a hand on top of his son’s tousled head. “I’ll see you at lunch, I need to go prepare for the second-year Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff class, they’ll be arriving shortly.”

He was startled as Harry suddenly threw his arms around the man’s waist, giving him another huge hug. He was momentarily startled, throwing his arms outward, but soon they were returning the affection.

“Thank you, Dad,” came the muffled response from his son. He patted the boy on the back for a moment then managed to disengage himself. “You’re welcome, Harry. I only do what any normal father would do for their son.”

Harry laughed; the sound was music to his father’s ears. “Dad, we are anything but normal! I can talk to snakes! That is not normal!”

“But a very useful skill to have, as we’ve found out. Now go take a shower, brat, whilst I go teach.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, heading towards his room. Severus shook his head and gave the password to Salazar as he grabbed his teaching robes off their hook.

“He’ll be right as rain with time, Severus,” commented the portrait as it opened for the Potions Master.

“I hope so, Sal, I truly do hope so,” he said with quiet conviction as he aimed one last look at the retreating form of his son before closing the portrait hole behind him.

****

Harry wandered around his father’s rooms that day, a bit bored really, but unwilling to face the students just yet. He had read the paper after he had washed and dressed and was pleased to discover that there was no mention of his relative’s crimes and trials, and the furore had died down from the revelation of him being the son of a supposed Death Eater – although Dumbledore had been quoted as saying that Snape hadn’t been a Death Eater since 1979; instead, he had been working as a spy. That had put the cat amongst the pigeons, as Hermione had said. The dirty looks Harry and Severus had received from the majority of the Slytherin’s had been murderous after that had been revealed. Harry’s two worst ambushes last week had occurred after then.

But Severus had maintained his stoicism, and still held an iron hand over his house. He constantly cast revealing charms on his food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, and it appeared as if he had developed eyes in the back of his head – more so than normal – as no one was able to ambush him.

No, Harry was more worried for Draco than Severus. The boys had been seen together the previous weekend and it was obvious to nearly everyone in Gryffindor and Slytherin that hostilities had ceased. Draco said he had told everyone that Severus was forcing his son and godson to get along. This seemed to work for now, but Harry wasn’t sure how long they’d be able to maintain that fiction.

He had spoken to Whitney for about an hour and his dad had joined them for lunch. He was glad he could talk to Whitney, it helped to get things off of his chest – and the advocate had reassured him, just as Severus had that morning, that what Harry was feeling was perfectly fine considering the situation. He had also apologised again for not getting Harry out of the courtroom sooner – which Harry had waved off. He didn’t blame anyone for that; who could ever predict what Vernon would do or say. He’d lived with the man for eleven years and he still had been able to startle Harry.

After lunch Harry headed back to his room to start some reading for later in the week, leaving the adults to talk for a few moments.

“Well, Whitney?” Severus asked.

“I think he’ll eventually do fine, Severus. I would like to see him once a week for a while, perhaps in the evenings? We can have them down here to make him more comfortable. I notice he still flinches some – that will pass. Just keep showing you love him, that’s the best medicine for him. So, when should I show up next week?” he asked as Severus walked him over to the door, collecting his cloak from the back of the couch on the way.

Severus considered his and Harry’s schedule both before answering. “How about Sunday nights, say seven o’clock?” he suggested.

“That will be fine. I’ll see all of you on Sunday evening, then.” He swirled his cloak on and headed out the door.

Severus walked back to his son’s bedroom to check on him, knocking on the opened door to announce his arrival. Harry looked up with a shy smile from where he was studying at his desk.

“I just wanted to let you know that Mr McDonald will be coming by, for the foreseeable future, on Sunday evening’s at seven. You’ll be meeting him here. Also, Draco has orders to gather your class assignments today for you, so he should be here sometime after three. Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, I’m going to finish my reading, then take a nap – I’m still tired after yesterday.”

“Alright, I’ll see you this evening. I want you to stay one more night, then you may return to the tower tomorrow after classes.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No thanks are necessary, Harry, this is your home,” Severus stated, receiving a beaming smile in return before he left his child to his own devices for the afternoon.

****

“C’mon, Snape, wake up!”

“Oomph!” was Harry’s response as his brother landed on him and began tickling him awake. “Draco - ha, ha – stop that! I can’t breathe!” Harry wheezed from under the covers. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t get a full breath. Draco finally let up, with a pillow thrown at Harry’s head, and Harry untangled himself from the sheets, reaching for his glasses.

“What’s the big idea, waking me up with a wrestling match?” He glowered at his brother, doing an excellent imitation of his father.

“Uncle Severus told me to wake you up if you were asleep when I came in,” Draco defended. “That just seemed the easiest way.”

“Prat! All right, I guess since I’m awake you may as well hand me my assignments.” Draco dug around in his bag as they headed out to the large round table in the lounge where a bit of afternoon tea already awaited them. “I can’t stay too long, practice starts in an hour. But I can explain things to you, if you need it…” he offered.

“Thanks, Draco.” And Harry meant it, too. Draco handed the dark haired boy the stack of homework assignments from the professors and they bent their heads over it. This was how Severus found them an hour later when he came in after his last class.

“Draco? Don’t you have…” he began.

“Practice! Merlin’s beard! See you later, Harry!” He grabbed his books and bag and ran out of his head’s rooms ignoring the snickering from Harry behind him.

Severus just shook his head at his godson’s antics then headed for his home desk where he set down his stack of essays and quizzes and went over to check on his son’s homework.

“Do you have any questions about the classes you missed?”

Harry looked up from Draco’s notes. “No, Draco takes good notes – I should be fine tomorrow. No essays are due, other than yours – but I turned that in to you on Sunday; there is a quiz in Transfiguration – but I know the material. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, I’ll just start some marking and we’ll have dinner in an hour – unless you wish to eat upstairs?” he asked hopefully, but was disappointed when Harry shook his head. But he couldn’t fault his son’s reason.

“I just want one last night with you, Dad.”

“Then we shall have it. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, sir!” came the grinning response and the two Snapes both bent over their work for the rest of the afternoon.

****

Draco had come back from practice worn out, dirty and wet, and Severus had sent the boy to the shower before letting him sit down to dinner. Harry didn’t mind having Draco spend the night as well, he was getting used to having the young Slytherin around now, and it wouldn’t feel like a family meal without him. So, he and Severus waited patiently for an extra ten minutes before Draco emerged from their bedroom, impeccably dressed and hair dry and slicked back. Harry just shook his head ruefully at his god-brother and joined his family at the table.

“So why were you so wet?” Harry asked, but his question was answered when a rolling bit of thunder finally made it’s way through the thick walls of the castle and into the dungeons. Draco just held up his fork, pointing at the ceiling at the same time. “I get it,” Harry said, grinning.

Draco swallowed his food first before speaking. “It started raining mid-way through practice, Flint refused to call us inside.”

“Wood’s the same way,” Harry commented. “The guy is a fanatic – wants us out there no matter what the weather; says it prepares us for anything.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed. “So, that’s how I got wet – then I saw the Snitch and followed it… all the way to the ground. It skimmed along the top of the grass and as I caught it, my foot caught on something in the ground and I ended up pitching off my broom into the mud.”

“But you caught the Snitch?” Harry asked pointedly.

Draco grinned at his brother. “Of course! And kept it through the fall.”

Harry nodded, satisfied with the answer as he served himself some gateau for pudding. “Then that’s all that counts,” he declared. Draco nodded in agreement. “But I’m still going to beat you during our game next month,” Harry added, smirking.

“In your dreams, Snape…” Draco murmured.

Severus just rolled his eyes to himself, but kept quiet.

Draco ended up spending the night, and the two boys departed Severus’ rooms early in the morning to head up to the Great Hall for breakfast, managing to skirt an attack by Peeves on some unsuspecting Hufflepuff first years.

The boys were brought up short, however, by Theodore Nott; flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Well, well, well gentlemen, what do we have here? Draco palling around with Potter? Tell me, Draco, you were planning to hex him weren’t you? You aren’t friends with him are you? That’s what the Weasle inferred the other day at lunch: said he saw you two being mates down at the gamekeepers hovel.”

Draco put on his best pureblood manners and looked down at his dorm mates. “So what if I am, Nott? He’s our Head’s son – and his name is Snape, not Potter, if you haven’t noticed.”

“A traitor’s son, Malfoy,” Nott spat out.

“My Godfather is NOT a traitor, Nott!” Draco said at the same time Harry retorted that his father was not a traitor, as well.

“He supports Potter–Snape, he’s a traitor. And so are you, Draco, if you continue hanging out with him!”

Harry had his wand already in hand and was getting ready to hex Nott, but Draco placed his hand over Harry’s and pushed it back down.

“He’s not worth it, Harry,” Draco said, sneering at Nott. “I know which side I’m supporting and it isn’t my father’s, nor the Dark Lord’s, should he ever come back. Let’s go.” He grabbed Harry’s forearm and started to lead him away but a movement he caught, in the corner of his eye, caused him to push Harry away from the incoming hex, and raise his wand in a low-grade protection charm.

Harry fetched up against the wall, but spun around to find his brother exchanging hexes and jinxes with the three other second-years. He pushed himself off the wall and stood next to Draco joining him in the counter-attack. With the new spells Severus had taught them, they were able to quickly disarm the other Slytherins, but not before Professor McGonagall had caught the fight.

Minerva had come down the grand staircase just in time to hear the boys yelling that Severus was not a traitor. She turned the corner as the first hex was thrown, and she caught Harry and Draco facing off the other three boys, and winning; but rules are rules and she had to intervene.

“Potter-Snape, Mr Malfoy! And you three! Come with me at once!” Without looking to see if they followed, she led the miscreants to her office. She made Harry and Draco stand to one side of her desk and Nott, Crabbe and Goyle on the other. She walked slowly around the desk to sit in her comfortable, old-leather chair, peering over her glasses at the set of three Slytherins.

“You deliberately hexed a student, Mr Nott – behind their backs. Not very sporting of you, was it? You know the rules, Mr Nott: no spell work in the hallways. Ten points each will be taken from your house hourglasses and, Mr Nott, you and Mssrs Crabbe and Goyle will be serving detention with Professor Snape tomorrow night – you are dismissed.” She waited until the three had closed the door behind them before turning to the two in front of her.

“Have a seat boys, have you eaten yet? No?” She headed to the floo and, after throwing a pinch of powder into the fire, called down to the kitchens for a breakfast for three. Harry and Draco sat in numbed silence.

“Now, I have to take the points, gentlemen – and I have to give you a warning.” She smirked at them over her glasses. “There, you’ve had your warning. Now eat up,” she said as the steaming hot plates of food appeared on her desk. The three of them dug in, enjoying the meal.

“Now, Harry, are you planning on returning to classes today?” the professor asked as she sipped her tea. Harry nodded, mouth still full of toast. “Good, best to get back to a normal routine. You received all your homework last night? Well done, Draco; five points to Slytherin for helping a fellow student. You’d best be getting to classes now – I’ll see you later today.”

Before the boys knew it, they had been fed, watered and turned out of the room faster than you could say Firebolt. They shrugged at each other in utter bewilderment and headed off towards class.