Harry slowly surfaced from a deep and dreamless sleep. He had expected to feel stressed after the high emotions from earlier in the day, but now he felt surprisingly calm.

The day had been weird from start to finish; first the book, then the… the spanking – especially the reason behind the spanking – and then Shadow.

Harry curled up tighter in his bed, eyes squeezed tight shut. There had been no sign of his doppelganger until Harry had dragged his sore, smarting bottom up to his room. At that point he had felt a little numb inside and a little shivery, but mostly OK. Back then, he had been chiefly concerned about where Shadow had disappeared to. He had wondered if the other boy was ashamed of him and had disappeared for that reason.

Harry had been temporarily cheered by the fact that Shadow was already lying on the bed on the other side of the mirror, but his mood had quickly changed after he’d seen the other boy’s face…

 Harry leant against the side of his bed, not wanting to sit down just yet, or at all.

“Shadow? Shadow?” he called softly. His voice sounded rough and scratchy even to his ears, and he winced. “Shadow, can you hear me?”

The boy on the other bed sat up slowly before turning his face to look at Harry. Dark, accusing eyes peered out from behind a curtain of hair. The pale face was streaked as liberally with tears as the hair was with dust. Harry had forgotten that anything that happened to him had a physical manifestation on Shadow as well.

Oh, Shadow.

In that moment, Harry wanted nothing more to take the other boy in his arms and whisper that everything was going to be all right. But, of course, he couldn’t. Instead, Harry settled for getting as close to his counterpart as possible. It was the first time that Shadow had shown such a powerful negative emotion – he had always seemed so strong.

Harry leaned against the mirror. “Hi.” He gently stroked a hand down Shadow’s reflection. The other boy looked away. “I’m so sorry.”

‘Sorry?’ The other boy’s voice was hollow and cold. It sent shivers down Harry’s spine. ‘Sorry, you say?’ Shadow stood up and walked towards the mirror. Harry stepped back involuntarily. The look in his double’s eyes appeared calm at first glance, but when he looked closer, it was obvious that a storm was brewing. A very big storm.

‘Let me tell you something, Harry,’ Shadow almost crooned. ‘Sorry doesn’t make things all right!’ The volume of his voice had risen with every word in his last statement until he was screaming at Harry, slightly red in the face and looking quite deranged. Harry took another couple of steps back, feeling himself starting to shake. He hated yelling. Hated, hated, hated it.

‘I trusted you! I respected you and now look what you’ve done! I warned you not to go up there. I did! But you had to go ahead with it anyway!” Harry didn’t know whether to be upset or concerned for Shadow, for as he continued shouting, more and more tears were pouring down the other boy’s face. He tried to say something, but Shadow wasn’t finished.

‘You just had to do something stupid! And now Snape hates us – really hates us! He’s going to hit us just like the Dursleys – he’s done it once, he’ll do it again; you see if he doesn’t! Because we’re worthless, worthless, worthless little FREAKS!’ Shadow collapsed against the mirror, sobbing like he’d had his heart broken. Harry felt tears spilling out of his own eyes as his heart broke for Shadow. He desperately wanted to make it all better, but he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Sh-shadow,” he managed to stutter out between his own tears. Shadow’s face turned blank for a moment, before it twisted violently in some foreign emotion.

‘I HATE you!’ he screamed, and brought his fist smashing into the mirror. The glass shattered; remaining in place, but separating into a hundred tiny fragments and Harry saw the distorted image of Shadow turning and running. Harry heard faint whispers of, ‘Ihateyou, Ihateyou,’ fading even more the further Shadow got away from the mirror.

“Shadow? SHADOW!”

Harry had spent hours calling and crying and begging for Shadow to come back, but it was to no avail. His little brother was gone, and worse, Harry could not follow.

Shadow had been right about one thing; Harry did hate himself. It was all his fault.

Even now, Harry could not tell whether Shadow had been expressing his own opinion, or had actually been repeating Harry’s own self-hate. He just didn’t know. Neither did he know how long he had spent, calling, in front of the glass, but eventually he had fallen silent, hugging himself and sniffing occasionally. That was how Snape had found him.

After the punishment, Harry was astonished that he was still being given food. And in that moment, he had wanted to launch himself into Snape’s arms and sob out the whole story from start to finish, but he had restrained himself, knowing he had to be wary of the other man…

But he had been wrong. Snape had hugged him.

Granted, it wasn’t immediately recognised as one, but Snape had done it. He had also tried to make Harry feel better – he had cared. Harry had been quite certain that he’d never felt so safe in his life. Shadow had been wrong. Harry had been wrong. Snape was good. The evidence was right before his eyes.

Harry sighed. He rolled over and reached for his glasses, knowing that Snape would call him for dinner soon. He might as well go down and help; or, at least be present for the meal ahead of time. Harry could still feel a sharp pang for Shadow – it was the same strength as the pangs he felt for Professor Lupin and Sirius. Why do I always end up losing my family?

Harry sighed again and scrubbed his eyes. So much for the calm mood, he thought bitterly as he wiped the fresh tears away.

Surprisingly, the thought of seeing Snape again made him feel relaxed, possibly even relieved, when he had expected to be embarrassed or down right mortified at the fact that Snape had seen him at his lowest.

Harry pulled himself out of bed and shoved his feet into his shoes once again, plucking at the green T-shirt that Shadow had so wanted to wear and wondering if he could ever wear it again without bad memories.

He wandered over to the mirror and pressed a hand to its cool, fixed surface.

“Shadow? Shadow? Hey, little brother, are you still there?” No answer. “It’s OK, Shadow, I’m not angry with you, I promise. You had every right to be angry with me and I’m sorry. Please come back, I miss you.”

Harry was about to pull away from the mirror when a shadow moved near the back of the room and a soft, uncertain voice called his name.

“Hey!” Harry’s face split into a small grin. I haven’t lost him after all! “Living up to your name, I see.”

Shadow rose shakily to his feet and walked over to the mirror. ‘By all rights, you should hate me. I’m so sorry.’

“Well, I don’t and besides, it wasn’t just you acting like an idiot, it was me too. But then, big brothers are allowed to be idiots every now and then, yeah?”

Shadow gave him a wobbly smile. ‘Yeah. So, we’re OK now?’

“Definitely. You’re me, after all. I do understand.”

A worried look passed over Shadow’s face. ‘Actually, I don’t even know any more.’ His hands twisted and tugged at the T-shirt. ‘Though your reactions and my reactions are similar… we no longer act and react the same. I think… somehow me being separate from you has turned me into a different person.’

“We’ve both changed and I think it’s for the better. Besides, thanks to you we now have Snape on our side. All we need to do is now is to find and destroy Voldemort and life will be a breeze!”

Shadow smirked, his face relaxing for the first time during the conversation. ‘And the Malfoys.’

Harry hit his forehead with his palm, melodramatically lifting his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, Merlin! How could I forget about them? Quick! We must make a list of all the evil people in the world that need to be destroyed at once! Otherwise we shall never be at peace!” Harry smiled; his ridiculous behaviour was making Shadow giggle. Finally things are starting to return to normal… well, normal for me. “Come on, Shadow, let’s go and help Snape… Maybe we can change the salt and sugar shakers around when he’s not looking!”

Harry sighed in relief as he made his way downstairs with Shadow, once again, riding in his glasses.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus looked up in surprise from where he was making liver and bacon casserole when he heard the door to the kitchen open and close.

Har… Potter was standing there, looking rather uncomfortable but defiant, as though daring Severus to tell him to leave the kitchen. Severus almost chuckled before he caught himself. He frowned, very puzzled by his own behaviour. How can a spanking make you feel closer to someone? Surely it’s meant to drive people apart.

“Sir. I was wondering if you needed any help?” Severus almost rolled his eyes. How can Potter make something sound like a question and a statement at the same time?

“I trust that you know how to do potatoes and the other vegetables?” Potter nodded. “You will find everything you need on the side.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was silence as they worked for the next few minutes, aside from the bubbling of the casserole and the rhythmic chop of the knife.

“I used to make liver and bacon casserole for the Dursleys. I was their cook.” Potter smiled self-depreciatingly.

“Oh?” There wasn’t much Severus could say to that kind of statement. Luckily, Potter didn’t seem to mind nattering on his own.

“I used to put sausages in it to add a new flavour in. It always tasted really good, well, whenever I was allowed some of it, of course,” he winced slightly as he said this, but carried on, “Dudley always used to complain that the liver was icky – he’d still eat it though, if it meant I wouldn’t get it.”

Sounds like something a dog would do. Severus decided to address the less personal part of that statement. “Sausages?” he asked, his nose slightly wrinkling, and nearly winced. Merlin I sound like some inept adolescent only replying with one word answers! He couldn’t help it though – brewing always soothed him, and cooking was so similar to that that it had a similar effect.

Severus tended to use long words and complex sentences whenever something was upsetting him or making him angry – conversely, if something made him calm, he found his sentences shortening and the words sounded less like they’d been ripped out of a eighteenth century dictionary. It appeared the opposite could be said for Potter.

“Yeah, sausages.” Well, maybe not the complex word part. “Trust me, it tastes amazing and it’s easy to add them in. Here, I’ll show you.” Potter actually barged over and took the spoon he had been using to stir the casserole with right out of his hand. Instead of being incensed, Severus actually felt his mouth twitching in amusement. “OK, you go and fetch the sausages and I’ll add them in.”

Severus was tempted to do just that and let Potter figure out later what he had done when he was in ‘cooking mode’. However, appearances needed to be maintained. He drew himself to his full height, folding his arms and pulling his robes tight around him so that he looked like a single pillar of black, with only his sallow face distinguishable.

“Mr Potter,” he drawled.

Potter blinked and looked from the spoon in his hands to the imposing shape of his Professor. “Oops.” He swallowed. “Sorry. Would you like your spoon back?” The boy held out the spoon tentatively and bit his lip. It was all Severus could do not to burst out laughing.

“I will go and fetch the sausages.” He smirked at Potter’s gobsmacked face before turning and temporarily exiting the kitchen.

“Thank you, Professor! I’ll need about five!” Potter’s voice yelled after him, sounding more carefree than it had in a long time.

After dinner was over and done with – though he was still puzzled as how he managed to pick up the sugar shaker instead of the salt – Severus led Potter into the sitting room and instructed him to pick a chair to sit on. Naturally, Potter chose the red and gold couch.

Severus disappeared into the library for a moment and came out again with two books. He placed one in Potter’s lap before taking his own chair by the fire and conjuring a glass of Merlot – he was damned if he was going to miss out on his favourite wine for the third day in a row just because of Potter.

“You- you remembered!” He glanced lazily up from his own book to see Potter holding up ‘The 1944 Treatise of Independent Werewolf Rights’ with a stunned expression on his face.

“Indeed. One day you shall learn that teachers notice everything; from, say, who threw an illegal firecracker in Potions class, to why certain ingredients happened to go missing from our stores.” Severus gave Potter a level look. The boy took the hint, immediately diving behind his book and pretending to go temporarily deaf.

Severus smirked. Ah, blissful quiet.

The evening progressed peacefully as the room’s occupants settled comfortably into reading quietly. The only noises were crack and hiss of the ever-present fire and the occasional turning of a page – a much preferable way to pass the time than the activities that had occurred earlier in the day.

“Professor?”

“Hmm?” Severus didn’t even bother looking up from his book.

“Why did you out Professor Lupin to the Slytherins?” Severus looked up with a sharp glare and Potter paled a little. “Err, if you, well, don’t mind telling me, that is, sir,” he added quickly.

Severus gave him another sour look before returning his gaze to his book. “He was a danger to the students, he was far too irresponsible in forgetting to take his potion and I don’t like him. That is reason enough for me, Potter, so do not question me further. You might not like the answers you get,” he fired off rapidly before delving into his book again.

The silence was strained for another couple of minutes before Potter whispered, “Yeah, I guess it was pretty irresponsible of him.” He raised his eyes to Severus’ startled gaze. “I still miss him though. He was kind to me. He taught me how to cast a Patronus. Did you know?” Potter watched Severus with genuine curiosity, and Severus, strangely, felt compelled to answer.

“Yes, I did know. But I did not hear what its form was.”

Potter nodded and fell silent from then on. It was approaching eleven o’clock when Potter finally closed his book and laid it on the nearest table.

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Severus looked up again in surprise, meeting Potter’s searching gaze without flinching.

“Maybe I would like to see it,” he eventually replied.

Potter smiled and nodded before turning and heading up the stairs. Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly, puzzled by, but enjoying the warm feeling of well-being that had taken hold of him. Smiling a little, he stood, placed his book beside Potter’s and climbed the stairs to bed.

Strangely, the feeling of well-being was still with him by the time he rose the next morning at six o’clock. Feeling refreshed, he walked downstairs and entered the living room, prepared to put the books away that he had left out the night before.

He stopped dead. Somebody was already in his living room, sitting on the red and gold couch as though waiting for him.

Severus blinked several times, but the impossible apparition didn’t disappear, proving that it was not in fact an early morning hallucination. It turned towards him and smiled a little as Severus finally managed to find his voice.

“Headmaster? What are you doing here?”