Harry slept alone in his room that night, down in his father’s quarters. He missed talking to Draco as they slowly drifted off to sleep, sharing each other’s adventures during the previous week, as was their habit on the weekends; but he was still upset at his friend’s daring. He punched his pillow in anger and flipped himself over in bed, too riled up to sleep. He thought back to what had happened after the club: he and Severus had taken the cobra up to Dumbledore who had flooed a magical zoo to send over a keeper.

A young man, dressed in khaki short-robes that had large roomy pockets and various loops all over it that contained many different items, soon arrived and took possession of the sack, and after smiling at the Headmaster, and staring awestruck at Harry’s scar – which he hastily tried to cover up with a quick down-swipe to his fringe – flooed back out to the zoo.

They took their leave soon after and headed down to the dungeons where Severus sent Harry off to bed for the rest of the night.

But Harry couldn’t sleep. He tried counting sheep and dragons, but soon the imaginary dragons were devouring the imaginary sheep, which wasn’t very conducive to sleep. Eventually he remembered to try the mind techniques that his father had been teaching him.

He straightened out on his bed, tightening up his entire body then consciously relaxing all the muscle groups one by one: starting at his feet and working his way up to his neck and head. He felt himself floating along peacefully and began to imagine his inner jungle. He prowled along the outside of it, checking for any chinks or holes in his protections. Finding none, he walked towards the edge and entered past his guardians, deciding to check on his pools. The peacefulness of the walk eased him into dreams and when Severus came to check on him, he was fast asleep.

Severus pulled up the covers, bestowing a light kiss on top of the ruffled hair, and closed the door quietly behind him. He walked into the lounge, conjuring a glass of wine to sip on as he stared contemplatively into the fire that chased away the December chill filtering down to the already cold dungeons. What to do about Draco, he mused to himself.

He recognized the bit of jealousy that Draco had exhibited, coloured with the proud need to show off his brother’s abilities. But it was so unlike Draco to do such an un-Slytherin manoeuvre. Harry’s mental balance was tightly wound, as it was, without this added to it.

Perhaps if he showed Draco what it truly meant to be Harry? He would need Harry’s permission, and he would have to have a plan ‘B’ in place in case his son denied the request; but he thought it might just cure Draco of his slight jealousy and curb any future desires to see what Harry could do, just for the sheer novelty of it. That is what irked him the most about the incident. If Draco had only taken a moment to think about what he was doing… Obviously the boys were rubbing off on each other if Draco was starting to think like a Gryffindor and Harry was thinking more like a Slytherin.

A sound from the bedroom caught his attention. Damn it, Harry had forgotten his potion! Severus had specifically put out a dose this evening, as he knew Harry would have nightmares after the Duelling Club fiasco; the child must not have seen it.

He set his wine down, made sure a ward was set around the fire to keep embers from falling into the room, and headed quickly down to his son’s room.

Harry was thrashing around in his bed, the covers pushed down to the foot of it in a jumbled mess. Severus eased himself down onto the mattress and captured Harry in his strong arms. “Alright, Harry… it’s alright. Wake up, son; it’s just a nightmare. I’m here, listen to my voice, Harry, come to the voice… that’s it, that’s right… calm down…” He stroked the sweat-soaked hair away from Harry’s face, conjuring a damp flannel and wiping the tears and sweat from his son’s skin.

Another flick of the wand straightened out the covers and had lifted them up to settle back around the youth who was breathing slower now, but had not opened his eyes. Severus looked down and realised Harry was back to sleep – this time a quite normal sleep pattern. He resorted to spelling the potion into his son’s stomach then waited a few more minutes before tucking the boy back under the covers. This time he left the door open a crack and headed to bed.

****

“I don’t know, Dad,” said Harry the next morning at breakfast. “How can this help?”

Severus set down his knife after buttering a scone. “Look at it this way, Draco needs to understand what you go through just being you. He in no way is as jealous as Mr Weasley is over your fame, but I think he is a bit envious of your abilities.”

“Well, he can have them!” Harry declared. “I certainly don’t want them! They’re nothing but trouble. I wish they would go away and let me be just a normal kid – happy to have found his father, have good friends and a great school to go to – and never have to worry about the possibility of a madman and his henchmen trying to constantly kill me! Just because I didn’t die the first time! What the hell is there to be envious about?” He could feel the anger in him flushing his cheeks. He tried to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Language, Harry,” Severus chided calmly. Harry frowned at his father before nearly slamming down his silverware, but catching it in time to place it firmly on his plate with just a minor clatter. “Apparently, son, Draco wishes he were in your shoes and perhaps, by showing him what your life is like, we can show him that it is not all that he imagines it to be.”

“What, about my life, is there to be envious about? My relative’s manner of raising children? My uncle’s idea of having a good time? How about everyone whispering behind my back about how I’m obviously the heir of Slytherin? Oh, I heard them last night – thinking I was a dark wizard.” He got up out of his chair and began to prowl about the room. Severus watched him covertly as he sipped his coffee.

“Fine,” Harry finally agreed, feeling a bit reckless. “I’ll let him see; but this isn’t his only punishment, is it?”

“No, just the most important aspect of it. He’ll still get two weeks of detention with me before the holidays begin.”

Harry looked worried at that, and it had the effect of calming him down where nothing else would. “Does he have to go to the Manor for Christmas?” he finally asked.

“No, Lucius and Narcissa are apparently taking a long vacation to the continent and have requested Draco stay here. I would have insisted on it in any case. It is not safe for him to go back there.”

“Dad…” Harry began.

“I’m working on it, Harry, trust me. Alright?” Harry had to be satisfied with this answer. The two of them had decided to try and get custody of Draco – based on the abuse Lucius had subjected Draco to the previous summer. Whitney was helping with gathering the evidence and preparing the brief for the officials in the Child Welfare office at the Ministry. This was being kept a secret from the young Slytherin, as they did not know when, or if, they would be successful.

“Now, go get your books and start in on your homework. I’ve summoned Draco to show up in half-an-hour.” Harry nodded his agreement and headed to his room to get his book bag and some other research books.

A half-hour later a knock came at the door and Severus answered the summons, ushering in his godson.

“Harry, I…” Draco started quickly, but was silenced by Severus.

“Not yet, Draco. You need to understand what this betrayal meant to Harry, first. We mean to show you that life as Harry Potter-Snape is not all a bed of roses that comes with greater power and enviable magical traits.”

Draco frowned up at his godfather. “I know that, Uncle Severus. Aren’t we going through Whitney’s sessions together?”

Severus studied his godson a moment before answering. He raised a finger and tapped it on Draco’s head. “You know that here, son, but not here.” He lowered his hand to spread it against Draco’s chest. “You need to internalise this understanding before you can be truly sorry for what you put your brother through last night. I have borrowed Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve – do you boys understand what this is? Ah, yes, Harry does from the trial; but not you Draco? Well, a Pensieve is a device wherein a magical person can place a memory and view it as if seeing it from the outside – rather than as a participant. This gives the added ability of being able to analyse a situation, or dream, to capture nuances previously unseen when the event originally occurred.”

He walked over to cabinet, unlocking it to reveal a grey stone basin, carved in runic glyphs around the outer edge of the central bowl. A thick, smoking fluid moved around in the centre. It reminded Harry of the vapour produced by dry ice when it was exposed to air. He’d had a science teacher in school freeze a sausage once by placing it on dry ice and the children then watched it explode when he hit it with a hammer.

Severus summoned him over to the basin. “Harry, I want you to think of several instances that you wish to show Draco how being you, with your abilities, isn’t exactly fun and games. Ready? Alright, think of your first one.”

Harry thought about his bouts of accidental magic and how he would get punished for it at the Dursleys. He nodded to his father he was ready and closed his eyes as he felt the wand tip settle against his head and pull the memory away from his head. This was repeated several times over the course of the next few minutes as Draco watched, stunned that they were even contemplating doing this. The contents in the bowl writhed and turned as the memories were added to its medium.

Harry sat for a moment after it was over, and was grateful for the strong hand that caressed his cheek for a moment before it reached for Draco’s arm to pull him closer.

“Now, Mr Malfoy, why don’t you and I take a trip down memory lane, shall we?” Severus led him closer to the bowl.

Draco balked a bit, staring wide-eyed at his brother. “I really don’t need to see this, Uncle Sev; Harry doesn’t need to show me…”

Severus stopped in his leading of Draco and turned back to the student. “I disagree, Mr Malfoy.” Draco flinched at his Godfather’s formal use of his name. It stung, as he only used that when he was severely disappointed with Draco. “I feel you could benefit greatly from this – and it is not up for negotiation! You will accompany me!” He began the pacing again over to the table.

Draco had no recourse but to follow along. Harry thought Draco looked like he was being led to the gallows – or the headman’s block.

Severus stopped with Draco next to him, facing the wide brimmed vessel. “Just place your face close to the bowl, like I’m doing and we enter like so…” Harry watched as the bowl sucked in his father and god-brother then trudged over to the table to finish his homework. It was going to be a long, few hours.

****

Draco landed next to Severus in a Muggle home – its lobby to be exact, small though it was. Draco sneered at the commonness of the abode, but noted it was as clean as the Manor – more so, actually. Every surface gleamed, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere.

He turned to his guardian. “Where’s Harry?”

“Just watch.” He had seen this memory before during his sessions with Harry, and so was prepared when Petunia calmly walked down the stairs and, removing a key from the pocket of her apron, unlocked the padlock on the cupboard under the stairs. She then proceeded to pound on the door. “Wake up, boy. Come and make breakfast!”

Draco winced as he heard the high, piercing, voice of Petunia; gasped when he heard a child’s voice answer “Coming, Aunt Petunia!” and paled when he saw a five-year-old version of Harry open the cupboard door and walk to the kitchen. The child was barely three feet tall, and had on the loosest clothing Draco had ever seen. Severus whispered that the clothing belonged to Harry’s cousin – he had none of his own. They walked towards the open kitchen door and Draco stopped a moment to look into the cupboard.

A thin pallet of a baby mattress, stained and dirty, covered by a blanket - that had more holes than material - met his eyes. He noted a scrawled legend above the pallet on the wall and nearly wept as he read it; “Harwy’s room”, it declared. A few broken green plastic soldiers stood on an exposed beam along with a cache of children’s books and a package of stubby crayons. He noted that one of the books was open and he could just read where, in the space where the author had placed a placard that stated, “This book belongs to:” the name ‘Dudley’ was marked out and ‘Harry’ was written next to it.

Draco shook his head and followed the insistent tugging on his arm by Severus. They walked into the kitchen to observe Harry, standing on a step stool, stirring a large pan full of scrambled eggs. As they watched, a large boy – nearly as round as he was tall – waddled into the room and deliberately went over to Harry, while his mother’s back was turned, and bumped into Harry making the pan of eggs fly into the air. Harry reached out a hand and stopped the tumbling pan, freezing the pan and flying eggs in mid-air. Dudley gulped loudly, growing as pale as Draco, then screamed for his mother.

“Mum! He’s doing it again! Mum!”

Petunia turned around from setting the table and seeing what Harry had done, grabbed the pan out of the air, scooping up the eggs with it and slammed them into the sink, making everyone jump in alarm. She then grabbed Harry’s hands and placed them on the hot stove top, causing the boy to shriek in pain.

“What have I told you? No funny business, you good for nothing…” She grabbed the boy by the ear, as he held his red and blistered hands away from his body, and dragged him off the stool and across the kitchen, down the hall and stopped in front of the cupboard. She pushed the tearful child in, then closed the hasp and snapped the lock shut. “No food for you today!” She screamed through the vent, before closing it off, effectively shutting out the whimpers behind the door.

Severus looked down at the boy trembling beside him. “That was a normal day for him,” he explained gently. Draco looked up with terror-filled eyes as they were whisked away to another scene.

They landed in Diagon Alley in front of Madam Malkins’ shop. Severus pointed towards the hulking form of Hagrid escorting Harry in front of him. Draco grew red with embarrassment as he realised what scene they were in and that he had a prominent role in it. He reluctantly followed Severus and Harry inside the clothing store and watched, as Harry looked around, all wide-eyed with wonder until he caught the eye of the witch. She bustled over and showed him over to the fitting station, grabbing a robe off the rack and threw it over his head, tugging it on his arms and smoothing it down before turning up the edge and began to magically set the pins. Severus had a firm hold on him as he listened to the conversation between the two boys.

“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you, Draco?” the older man enquired. “As you can see, Harry is everything you said you were against. Essentially Muggleborn, scared – yet entranced by everything around him – and obviously being turned off by someone who sounds like his cousin. Yet, he was Slytherin enough to never let you know how close to the mark you were hitting with your vocal prejudices – and yet Gryffindor enough to stand up for his friend when you insulted him.

“You see, Draco, Harry won’t ever stand up for himself – but he will always support a friend. This is part of the abuse cycle – he himself is worthless, in the eyes of his abuser, and he begins to consider himself that way. It is part of his psyche now. He knows intellectually that he is not worthless, but he has not internalised it – and probably, despite therapy, never will. In his case, he will sublimate it into caring for others, nearly to his detriment. Yes, attack someone he cares for, and the lion comes out. He will place himself in harms way, if need be, in order to save someone else. Are you starting to understand?”

Draco nodded as he watched his arrogant prick of his self behave abominably.

The scene faded out to be replaced by some quick scenes from the previous year: discovering Fluffy, being attacked by the troll, their first flying lesson – which Snape just gave him a withering look for; discovering about Hagrid’s dragon egg, getting caught and the subsequent detention in the forest where Voldemort nearly attacked Harry again and ultimately in the mirror chamber when Harry discovered that Voldemort was attached like a parasite to Professor Quirrell and the struggle for the stone. Draco nearly sicked up at the sight of the Dark Lord writhing on the back of the now-dead professor’s head.

The vapours passed in front of his field of vision again and this time he was seeing the attack on Harry by his uncle the previous summer, the subsequent rescue and discovering that Severus was his father, finding out about the Parseltongue ability and the fact that he could hear Slytherin’s basilisk, bits of the trial of his relatives and how he was mobbed by the press as they had left the courtroom – something Harry had never told him about - and the looks on his classmates faces as they realised Harry was a Parselmouth. All colour drained from his face as he contemplated the implications of his actions the previous evening. Severus caught him as he wobbled on his feet as the true weight of his actions hit him, and pulled them both out of the Pensieve.

Draco stumbled out of Severus’ grasp and fell to the floor near Harry’s feet, unable to stay standing. He grabbed Harry’s left hand and looked down at the worn stone floor below him, unable to meet his brother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry Harry, I never should have… I didn’t know… I… Merlin, when you said cupboard I was imagining something like what we have at the Manor, not…” He shook his head in denial of what he had seen.

“Can you ever forgive me?” the blond asked sincerely, finally letting his gaze be captured by the bright green one above him.

“Of course I forgive you, you great git. Just think next time, alright?” Draco nodded his head. “Now get up, you’ll get dust all over that fine wool.” The Slytherin grinned and finally got to his feet, but found his shoulders were being guided by a pair of large, lean, potion-stained fingers towards a nearby chair.

“Sit, Draco. Now, you are also going to be responsible for a fifty-point loss for Slytherin and will be on Detention with me for the next two weeks starting now. Go into the classroom and you will discover a large vat of dead rats that need their organs removed and sorted. Now march!”

Draco sighed but headed out the main door to walk to the classroom nearby.

“I will be back momentarily, son, to restore your memories,” Severus mentioned before following Draco. Harry wished that didn’t have to happen, but knew that it must.

0000

When his father returned and placed his memories back in his head, Harry took a few moments to sink them in his Occlumency pools, placing them in the deepest waters he could find. He hated reliving them and preferred not to think about them when he could.

Severus watched the boy concentrate as he gathered a stack of fourth-year quizzes to mark. He brought them over to the table and sat across from his son. When Harry returned to the here and now, Severus looked up from his marking.

“Better?”

“Mm, hmm,” Harry replied, turning back to his history notes.

“Good, I wanted to discuss what our plans were for the holidays,” Severus said as he placed his quill down.

“Aren’t we staying here? I just assumed…”

“We could stay here, or we could go to Prince Manor. It will be your inheritance some day.”

“Drake would come with us?”

“Of course.” Severus nodded his agreement.

“Can we go then? I would like to see it.”

“Then we will go. Draco’s detention will be over by then. Let me call the house-elves and tell them to clean the place. Runeskin!” he called out to the air. A moment later a pop was heard in the room behind Harry and he turned in his seat to see a small little creature, much like Dobby – but with a clean, white towel wrapped like a toga around his body. He bowed when he saw Severus, which Severus returned with solemn dignity.

“Harry, this is Runeskin: the chief elf at Prince Manor. He runs the entire estate for me.” He turned to the elf. “Runeskin, this is my son with Mistress Lily, Harry. He, Master Draco and I will be arriving in two weeks for the holidays. Could you please make sure the manor is ready?”

“Of course, Master!” said Runeskin in a high squeaky voice. “All will be as you prefer. I will set up the heir’s bedroom and Master Draco’s room as well. Shall I find a tree?”

“No, I think we will do that on our own once we arrive. Thank you, Runeskin, and we will see you in two weeks.”

“As you wish, Master Severus!” the little creature said enthusiastically before snapping its fingers and disappearing with a crack.

“So, as Draco is currently busy – shall we have some one on one practice in the work-out room?”

Harry grinned broadly at this offer and joined his father at the door.