Harry, in the guise of Aidan Vale, sat slumped in the back of the Ford Escort, his eye level only just above the base of the side window. The nondescript blue eyes with their short, stubby eyelashes were flickering rapidly backwards and forwards as the car sped through the beautiful fertile valleys and river plains of the Perth and Kinross area in the very heart of Scotland.

Harry was exhausted and he was starting to feel decidedly ill again. And the place where his scar should have been visible, was starting to throb with an incessant, dull pain that echoed the drumbeat of the headache that had started as a muted ache about an hour ago, and which was now pummelling the inside of his skull with relentless ferocity.

They had been driving for hours since leaving the ferry terminal town of Ullapool; in fact, it seemed like days to Harry. Snape had stopped briefly in Ullapool and had bought some supplies for them for a lunch on the run, and other than one fifteen minute toilet stop in Inverness they had travelled non-stop. One would have been hard pressed to ignore the beautiful countryside they had been driving through; the Scottish Highlands were absolutely spectacular, and the first two hours of the journey had passed easily and, considering Severus Snape was in the car, relatively pleasantly. Harry had to admit that there had been, amazingly, a distinct lack of snark.

As they had approached Inverness, Harry had seen many a signpost informing them that Loch Ness was a short distance away. Harry would desperately have loved to see the famous loch and its even more famous inhabitant, but it was obvious that the chauffeur had no intentions of taking any side trips. So Harry had bitten his tongue and made the most of his allotted fifteen minutes in Inverness…not that he had been able to have any privacy. Snape was never more than a few feet away, even in the loo!

Erin had made an effort to initiate conversations that included Harry, and for a while, the three of them had conversed sporadically about the view, the (for once) pleasant weather, and other harmless subjects. They had carefully avoided mention of Harry’s indisposition on the ferry, and the possible reasons why his scar might have hurt at that particular point in time.

But more often than not, Harry had remained silent, allowing Snape and Erin to converse in quiet, soppy voices to each other; he had made every effort to shut out the utterances of the lovebirds in the front of the car and bury the small amount of resentment that he still harboured. They seemed to forget he was with them for significant periods of time, but that suited Harry just fine. While they whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears, Harry gazed at the beautiful countryside and pondered what Voldemort and his minions might have been up to earlier that day.

Once, while driving through a particularly picturesque area of the Highlands, Harry had suddenly snapped out of his apathy; the topography looked very familiar. After several minutes studying the view, Harry had asked Snape if they were anywhere near Hogwarts. Severus’s black eyes had shot a penetrating look at Harry through the rear-view mirror. Erin had watched Severus too, as he seemed to deliberate over his answer, but finally—and reluctantly, it seemed to Harry—he answered. “Hogwarts is indeed in this general vicinity, Potter, but more than that, I will not say.”

Harry had made sure that Snape’s concentration was back on the road before he rolled his eyes and wondered why the big secret. Did the idiot think he might want to take an ad out in the Times informing the world of the location of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Harry had long since come to the conclusion that magical folk were more than a little paranoid.

8888

Severus had been looking in the rear-view mirror more and more frequently, though he was not checking for cars behind their vehicle; he was watching Potter. Over the last hour, the colour that had slowly climbed back into Aidan’s chubby cheeks after they had disembarked the ferry, had ebbed out again, leaving the disconcertingly unfamiliar features, chalk white and strained. Severus had never thought that he would miss not looking at Harry Potter’s distinctive features, but he was more than a little disconcerted every time he looked into Aidan’s small blue eyes, rather than the vibrant emerald jewels surrounded by their long sweep of curling ebony lashes that were distinctly Harry Potter’s.

Even Severus had to admit that Potter’s eyes were unusually attractive—as had been his mother’s; their vibrancy was not marred in the slightest for being confined behind the round lenses of the glasses he had to wear. It amazed Severus, now that he thought about it, that the unremarkable blue eyes of the muggle boy whose hair he had commandeered, seemed to have perfect vision, and yet Potter’s astonishing eyes did not work as well as they should without benefit of glasses. The strange notion slithered into his mind after he watched those disconcerting blue eyes on and off for a few minutes and found that he very much wished he was looking at Potter’s own eyes and familiar face.

Strange notion indeed, and one that had Severus shaking his head at his own errant thinking. When had he ever wished to see Harry Potter? Erin reached across and touched his arm, drawing his attention to her; looking at the dark-haired woman next to him was also disconcerting…he very much wanted to be looking at the features he had fallen so heavily for. Erin raised her eyebrows in silent query, having noted Severus’s preoccupation, but he offered a small smile and shook his head lightly to indicate that it was nothing.

The only thing that Severus could think of that might explain the inexplicable softening of his brain in regards to Potter, was the presence of Erin in his life. Ever so slowly, he had found himself being able to accept Potter’s proximity with only the merest trace of his previous ill-feeling and anger.

Potter had begun to surprise him though, before the holidays had even started, even before Black’s death. Severus had been amazed that he had not been the recipient of any nasty smirks or sniggers from the Gryffindors…from the Golden Triumvirate, specifically. He had expected Potter to broadcast the events he had witnessed in the pensieve far and wide, despite his, Severus’s threats of retribution if he did so.

But strangely, nothing untoward had happened; indeed, Potter had looked exceedingly depressed and thoughtful every time Severus had seen him, and that attitude had only become worse of course, after the horrific events at the Ministry. He had never known Potter to be so quiet and unobtrusive, and after the Ministry, even defeated.

Of course, Potter’s misery had done little to stem the mistreatment he had received at the hands of his Potions Professor; Severus had scaled new heights of immaturity with his vindictiveness. Breaking the boy’s potion sample in their first lesson after the pensieve incident had been one example…of course, in his own defence, he had not expected Granger to have cleared away Potter’s cauldron, banishing its contents in her zeal. He had allowed for the fact that the boy would be able to bottle another sample and hand it in. He had not planned to deliberately break a second.

A second example had been his failure to indicate to Potter in some way that he had understood his frantic verbal signals in Umbridge’s office when he had thought his Godfather was in danger. His own failure to communicate in some way with Potter on that occasion, had been partially responsible for what had followed. He should have gone looking for Potter and Granger himself, after they had gone off with Umbridge. At the very least, he should have let Potter know that he had understood. Then perhaps the boy would not have snuck off to London and Black might be alive today. Well, Black’s death was just one more thing that he had to add to his tally of unforgivable sins.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Severus concentrated on the road for the next several minutes, trying to banish his guilt. But his guilt had no plans to disappear any time soon. If he had been truly remorseful, he would not have continued to attack Potter at nearly every turn since collecting his broken body from Privet Drive, and all of this despite his many internal monologues where he told himself that the fifteen year old son of his old school nemesis was not as black as he had always painted him. But for Severus Snape, it seemed that bad habits were almost impossible to erase.

Despite Potter’s dire condition, and despite having finally seen first hand how the boy must have suffered for years at the hands of his uncle, Severus had still acted like a snarky bastard once Potter had regained consciousness, and once he had recovered from another debilitating bout of scar pain on top of everything else.

He had not planned to treat the boy so abominably after seeing him so badly mistreated by his family. He had planned on trying to moderate his behaviour around Potter, he really had, but he had failed abominably. But Severus had a ready excuse to hand; he had convinced himself that his total failure to act out his plan had been because he was suffering greatly from the frustration of being attracted to a woman whom he thought had no interest in him whatsoever.

But since he and Erin had reached out to each other, he had been trying to be more patient with Potter, partly because of his own guilt, but also because Erin was so very fond of the boy. And since their interaction on the ferry, Severus knew that he had banished some kind of mental barrier when it came to his dealings with Harry Potter. He had never before seen so clearly that this boy was a person in his own right, and not the shadow of his father.

It had been a long drive since Inverness and he and Erin had long since lapsed into a comfortable silence. Another quick glance showed the boy squeezing his eyes shut tightly and digging his fingertips into them firmly. Seconds later, he was kneading his forehead with rigid fingers and then digging them into Aidan’s scalp through the overlong brown hair, mussing it up almost as much as Harry’s own shorter raven locks.

Now the boy was yawning widely, and Severus knew it was not because he was tired—though he probably was—but because he was trying to draw in more oxygen to stave off the nausea that Severus was sure was steadily building. Potter was experiencing pain again, and it was making him exceedingly unwell.

“Is something wrong?” Severus’s eyes snapped back to the road for a split second before he glanced at Erin. With a restrained grimace, he indicated the boy in the back seat with a jerk of his head. Erin looked back. Harry was slumped low in the seat and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He was breathing deeply and carefully through his nose to try and calm his roiling innards.

Erin frowned at Severus. “He’s sick again,” she whispered worriedly and Severus nodded.

“So it would seem.”

Erin glanced back at Harry again and then with a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead, she looked distractedly out at the view. The beautiful countryside with the odd, picturesque village was giving way to the built up area surrounding a city of significant proportions.

“How much further are we going to travel today?” she asked.

Severus sighed, glancing again at Potter through the mirror. He was still breathing deeply, but Severus knew it would only be a matter of time before he vomited. He wondered what the Dark Lord was up to now. The boy seemed to have a remarkable tolerance for pain, but even he had his limits.

“We’re near Perth, and I had planned on travelling through to Glasgow…another seventy odd miles. But I don’t think that will be possible. The boy is obviously ill.” These words seemed to act as a catalyst.

Another glance in the mirror showed Harry suddenly jerking upright and fumbling for the window winder. Without conscious thought, Severus glanced in the side mirror and pulled onto the shoulder. He was out of the car almost at the same instant as he switched off the ignition and pulled the hand break on.

Even in his obvious distress, Harry seemed to realise that the car had stopped and he grabbed for the door handle, at the same time as Severus yanked the door open. Harry fell out onto the gravel on his hands and knees and vomited violently, only just missing Severus’s boots as he jumped back out of the way.

The violent retching went on for a long time after Harry’s stomach was empty; obviously his gut had practically turned itself inside out, considering the amount of bile that followed the semi digested gastric contents. Severus and Erin could do little but watch the small huddled form as powerful wave, after powerful wave of paroxysms gripped Harry. Erin was becoming frantic by the time Harry finally managed to cease retching long enough to groan through his immense distress.

Erin would have stooped to put her arms around the pitiful bundle, despite the foul puddle inches away from the faded knees of Harry’s jeans, but Severus got there first and he easily grasped Harry’s upper arm and pulled him upright and away from the mess. Harry stumbled against Severus, and with his free hand, he dug his fingertips into his forehead while Severus forcefully, but gently pushed him back to sit on the edge of the back seat of the car.

“I’m sorry!” breathed Harry on a pained exhalation. “God, it hurts!” he lowered his face into his hands, and kneaded his forehead even harder.

“You should have said something sooner, foolish boy,” said Severus, who had opened the boot and was rummaging within. Erin had retrieved a flask of water from inside the car, and pulling Harry’s hands away from his face, she tried to get him to drink. He turned his head to the side, his face screwed up with the pain.

“Just rinse you mouth out, Harry,” Erin said firmly. The young boy took the flask in a shaking hand and took a hasty mouthful, swilled it around and then spat it out.

“Now drink this,” said Severus and he passed Harry an opened phial of candy pink liquid. Harry looked at it sceptically through the blue eyes of his borrowed persona.

“What is it?” he asked in a raspy voice; his two bouts of severe vomiting that day had strained his throat.

“It’s a pain killer,” said Severus. He could hear the impatience in his own voice and when Erin looked pointedly at him, he modulated his tone when next he spoke. “Take it, Potter. It will help.”

Screwing up his face as a particularly vicious twinge threatened to cleave his head in two, Harry raised the phial to his lips and swallowed the contents. Severus took the empty phial.

“It will take a couple of minutes to take effect,” explained Severus, and he held out another slightly larger phial of mustard coloured solution. “This is an anti-emetic. You had it this morning,” and when Harry looked blankly at the glass container, Severus clucked his tongue. “It will stop the nausea.”

Harry didn’t need telling twice as that horrible feeling was starting to build again. He took the second potion and swallowed it quickly. He had forgotten that it was tasteless, but he was grateful for that fact…also the fact that it worked almost instantaneously. His stomach settled and with that particular discomfort removed, Harry realised that the pain in his head was also abating. But suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Get in the car, properly,” said Severus, and he nudged Harry’s knee. “We’ve still got a little way to go before we stop for the night.”

Harry groaned again, but this time with tiredness as he hauled Aidan’s short legs into the car. “How much further?” he asked through a yawn.

Severus didn’t answer, but shut the door.

“You’re not still going to drive to Glasgow, are you?” asked Erin. “He really needs a proper rest.”

Severus sighed his frustration. He wanted to get this journey over and done with sooner rather than later, and they were already delayed. “No,” he said in a tight voice. “But I have to find somewhere to stay in Perth. Dumbledore had booked a room in advance in a hotel in Glasgow, but we’ll have to find our own place now.”

Erin looked at Severus over the top of the car. “He can’t help being sick, Severus,” she said, shortly.

“Thank you, Erin, for pointing out the obvious,” drawled Severus in his best ‘pre-Erin’ snark. “Be that as it may, that does not stop this being a damnable nuisance, not least because I am solely responsible for Potter’s safety and I have to be that protector without the aid of magic.”

Erin’s eyes narrowed in irritation at his tone but she bit her tongue. There was nothing to be gained from standing at the side of the road trading barbs over the roof of the car. She did appreciate that Severus was worried and that he probably felt quite vulnerable not being able to use his wand, but that was just how it was. Descending into anger was not going to help.

The angry features of Paul Vale didn’t look as intimidating as Severus Snape’s flint-like gaze, thinned lips and tautened cheekbones would have done, but Erin got the general idea. She slammed the front passenger door shut.

“I think I had better sit in the back with Harry,” and so saying, she yanked open the back door and slid inside. If he thought he was the only one who could be in a snit, then he could think again.

Harry, who had been sitting with his eyes closed and his head back, pried his heavy lids open and gazed at Erin in surprise. ‘Whassa matter,” he slurred and then he jumped a little as Severus slammed his own door with much more vigour than it really required. Harry looked from the back of the grey-blonde head, to Erin’s set face.

“Go back to sleep, Harry,” said Erin, and she put her arm around him and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. Harry tensed; he could feel Snape’s eyes on him through the rear view mirror, and really, even that grey-blonde hair looked angry.

Even though Harry just wanted to succumb to sleep—whatever was in that pain relief potion certainly packed a wallop—he didn’t want to incur Snape’s everlasting wrath by being seen to be sleeping on his girlfriend’s shoulder. He tried to sit up, but Erin exerted more pressure and after sighing deeply and holding himself as taut as a bowstring for as long as his recalcitrant muscles would allow, Harry finally succumbed, allowing himself the pleasure of shutting his eyes and snuggling against her.

Erin gazed resolutely out the side window, the weight of Harry against her side was solid and warm. He was sound asleep; she could feel the slackness of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. Did Severus not understand just how much that violent vomiting and pain took out of a person? She shook her head at her own stupid question…of course he knew. He was a healer!

Severus’s hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and every now and then, he glanced quickly in the mirror. He didn’t feel as put out as he thought he would to see Erin with Potter resting up against her…after all, this was twelve year old Aidan whose cheek was so close to her breast, and the boy was sound asleep; Severus could see that clearly. He was put out that Erin didn’t seem to appreciate the very real danger they were all in…and yes, he knew that circumstances dictated their actions, but that didn’t make his frustration any less valid.

The traffic was getting heavier, and Severus had to concentrate on the road more fully. He put Erin and her attitude to the back of his mind as they entered the bustling market city of Perth. It was a very attractive city; Severus noted this through his preoccupation with trying to find them some suitable accommodation. Erin remarked pointedly after he had driven past several bed and breakfast establishments.

“I do not wish us to be separated,” he explained as if to a child, setting Erin’s teeth on edge even more. “I wish to get a suite of some sort where we will all be under the same roof, as it were.”

Erin thought that was taking paranoia to the limit…after all, wouldn’t they be under the same roof in a B&B. But once again, she bit her tongue and allowed him to do what he had to do.

8888

Severus guided Harry onto one of two blue sofas in the sitting room of the suite he had found for them, in a hotel in the very centre of Perth. He swung his big hold-all onto the floor beside the sofa, as Erin lowered her bag onto the other end of the sofa.

Harry was having trouble keeping his eyes open and he leaned his head back and gazed, bleary eyed, at the abstract painting on the opposite wall with its streaks of electric blue, purple, pink and lime green. He put his head to the side to see if that perspective made the mass of colours any more meaningful. It didn’t.

Severus stalked over to the window and pulled the sheer curtain aside to peruse as much of the neighbourhood as he could see. Then ignoring both Erin and Harry, he stalked through to the bedroom with its en-suite bathroom, checking; Erin was sure, that they were high enough up and far enough away from the corner of the building that someone couldn’t easily shimmy up the down-pipe.

As soon as the unworthy thought flashed across her mind, Erin felt totally ashamed of herself. She flopped down onto the sofa next to Harry and leaned forward, supporting her head with her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin in one hand. She knew she was being totally unfair. Severus was just doing what he had taken on the responsibility to do; he was making sure he did everything in his power to keep Harry safe…herself too, she supposed. And she was indulging in a totally female, totally bitchy display because Severus had held himself aloof since they had had words earlier.

Severus had insisted that both she and Harry accompany him into the hotel lobby whilst he checked to see if they had a room. She had sat next to Harry in two side by side club chairs, whilst Severus Snape, wizard extraordinaire, outlined his requirements to the desk clerk, in his very best ‘VIP’, Muggle persona; a two bedroom suite, preferably on the third floor, but not a corner suite.

They had been able to meet all of the requirements, except for the two bedrooms. There was only the one bedroom with a queen sized bed and a sitting room in which one of the sofas folded down into a bed.

Severus re-entered the sitting room and threw the plastic key card onto the table. He still ignored his companions, striding across the room to look out the window, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. Erin couldn’t stand to see the worry that was shadowing Paul Vale’s careworn features—she really wished she could see Severus at this point in time—so she shelved her resentment of his earlier biting sarcasm and moved to join him at the window.

“Sev, I’m sorry for being such a sulky bitch,” she said softly and tentatively, looking out of the window and taking in the view that seemed to have him so preoccupied. “I know you’re worried and you shouldn’t have to put up with me and my moods, on top of Harry’s problems.”

There was silence for more than a minute. Erin began to feel very vulnerable. She glanced nervously over her shoulder to find Harry had flopped into the corner of the sofa and his head was resting on the arm; he was sound asleep again. She turned back to the view, and taking her courage in hand, she slipped her hand into Severus’s much larger one. Ten, fifteen, twenty seconds elapsed before Severus’s fingers tightened around hers and Erin breathed again.

Severus looked down at her, a slight smirk playing about his lips and his eyebrow raised in a questioning arc. “Sev?” he said in a disbelieving drawl.

Erin bit her lip, but she couldn’t keep the grin at bay. “ Why not? Severus, as distinctive as it is, is quite a mouthful.”

“I have never found it so,” Severus returned, his voice a laconic drawl as he turned to face her and pull her into his arms.

“Really,” said Erin, rising on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around his neck. “And just exactly how often do you say your own name on any given day?”

Severus allowed himself the indulgence of what felt like a very long overdue kiss. And though it was obvious that Erin wanted more, much more, just as he did, he was too conscious of Potter’s proximity to totally succumb. There was nothing he would have enjoyed more than to drag Erin into the bedroom and make use of that comfortable looking bed—and one day, soon, he promised himself that was exactly what he would do—but not until he had Potter off his hands.

So slowly, reluctantly, Severus broke the kiss; her nearness was having the predicted physiological affect on him, and he had to put a little distance between them. But though Erin allowed him to release her lips, she wasn’t going to allow him to pull away; she snuggled closer so that they were practically adhered, and her head rested on his chest. Severus let out a helpless groan of longing. She was torturing him; there was no way she could be unaware of his discomfort.

He could not push her away; he did not want to, so, taking a deep breath, Severus performed a pas de deux that turned them in a half circle. Now he could see that Potter was asleep. But now that he thought about it, Severus was sure that if the boy was awake, he would have made himself scarce; there was no way that Potter would have continued to sit and ogle two adults making out. Severus could still detect a certain amount of sulkiness in the boy’s attitude over his and Erin’s relationship, but he was sure that Potter would have shown a clean set of heels to any couple who might decide to get too personal within his immediate orbit.

Having ascertained that Harry was indeed asleep, Severus shut his eyes as pleasure began to overload his senses…as Erin moved sensuously against him. Harry faded to the background as Severus tightened his arms about Erin and bent his head to nuzzle her hair…her dark hair!

That anomaly gave Severus pause, and he scrunched up some of the dark locks in a fisted hand and studied them before letting out a cynical snort that blew a few fine tendrils of hair not caught up in his hand. Erin leaned back to look up at him.

“What?” she asked, amused.

“You do realise, I suppose, that we are indulging in one of the greatest sins,” he drawled.

Erin’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back half a pace. Severus’s arms dropped to link loosely in the small of her back. “What are you talking about?”

“I, Paul Vale, am standing in the middle of this sitting room, in full view of my son, snogging my sister!”

Erin’s mouth dropped open and for a moment, she looked horrified. But then she let out a little giggle, and standing on tip toe, she linked her arms around her ‘brother’s’ neck again.

“Bring, it on, brother dear,” she whispered, before claiming his mouth again in a passionate kiss that was definitely not one that should be shared between siblings.

Severus knew that he had definitely lost his head, and his heart, to this woman when he found he could do nothing to resist her assault on his senses, even with the knowledge of there being a third person in the room. He had always sneered at public displays of affection; it mattered little that the public in this instance consisted of one sleeping teenage boy. The thought of kissing in public had always been abhorrent to him…until now apparently.

Severus forgot everything else as his hands snaked under Erin’s knitted cotton top and his fingers worked their way inside the top of her jeans to splay over the deliciously soft skin where her back ended and the seductive curve of her buttocks started. His thumbs caressed the little dip at the base of her spine, sending a pleasurable shiver through every one of Erin’s muscles, and nearly sending Severus away from the edge of his very shaky control.

Severus had pulled one hand free of her jeans and was inching his way upwards over the curve of her hip when a scream of apparent agony rent the air, causing Erin and Severus to jump apart in shock. They both stared at Harry for several, immobile seconds, watching him breathe heavily through clenched teeth and thrash around in his sleep.

Another scream filled the air and that one released Severus from his paralysis. He was across the room in four long strides and had taken Harry by the shoulders and was trying to shake him awake when Erin joined him.

“Potter! Wake up!” growled Severus, but Erin knew his tone was due to fear for Harry, not anger. Harry didn’t wake and when another scream emerged, Erin had to blink back tears and turn away as Severus had to manhandle Harry to prevent him from throwing himself off the couch.

Harry threw out a clenched fist and caught Severus hard on the outside edge of his right eyebrow. Severus let out a grunt of pain, and when Erin looked down at him—he was on his knees in front of the sofa—large droplets of blood were dripping down the side of his face towards the angle of his jaw.

Severus ignored his injury and the sounds of agony issuing from Harry’s throat, the major blood vessels of which were greatly distended because Harry had his teeth so tightly clenched together.

Severus took both of Harry’s upper arms and gave him a short, sharp, violent shake. There was no alteration in Harry’s state of consciousness and so, putting one hand against Harry’s chest, he drew back his hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. The harsh breathing ceased immediately and Aidan’s blue eyes snapped open, though they were far from focused.

Within seconds though, Harry screwed up his eyes and face in agony again, but he bit his lip to still the new scream that wanted to escape, drawing blood as a result of his suffering.

Severus felt confidant enough that Harry wouldn’t throw himself off the sofa—even though it was obvious that he was still in considerable pain—to remove his restraining hand from his chest. Keeping a close eye on Harry, Severus withdrew a neatly folded handkerchief from a pocket in his jeans and pressed it to the cut near his eyebrow.

Harry bent forwards with his face buried in his hands, another moan emerging from between his fingers.

“Potter…Harry, can you see something?” asked Severus in a tight voice.

The shock of hearing his given name on Snape’s lips stilled Harry's compulsive movements; he had started rocking backwards and forwards. Now he threw himself against the sofa back and kneaded his forehead with rigid fingertips in an action that Severus was becoming far too used to seeing.

“Not see…” panted Harry. “Feel. He…he’s celebrating something…something important, something massive.”

“The same thing that he was celebrating earlier?” asked Severus.

Harry shook his head. His body had lost some of its tension, and Severus knew that the crisis was nearing its end. Harry’s hands flopped down onto his lap. “That was something else…something else that made him ecstatic.”

Erin had seated herself on the arm of the sofa and was looking at Harry with distress and compassion. She swallowed back her tears and rubbed Harry’s shoulder before cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin at the side of his nose. Harry tensed for a moment and then leaned into the gentle touch. He was fully aware that Snape was there, but Harry wasn’t trying to play a game of one-upmanship, he just wanted to accept the comfort Erin offered.

“Oh, Harry, do you ever have a normal day?” she asked sadly, reaching up to brush the untidy brown fringe away from his forehead. Harry had several welts marring the pale skin. Without even thinking, Erin leaned forward and peppered several little kisses across the marks.

But when she straightened up, Harry saw Snape glaring at him. And when the formidable looking man suddenly leaned forward with his hand out, Harry, expecting to have his head knocked off, flinched sideways. However, there was no slap, nor punch, nor stranglehold about his throat, instead Snape placed his palm against Harry’s forehead and non-to-gently pushed the fringe back…just as Erin had done moments before.

Harry held his breath, but he didn’t fight to get away; instead, he watched the colour drain a little from his babysitter’s cheeks.

Severus couldn’t believe it. He was looking at the twelve year old whom he had dubbed, Aidan Vale…the brown hair, the blue eyes, the chubby cheeks and the soft, stubble free skin. But he was also looking at an inflamed, lightning bolt ridge of skin on the right side of a forehead that should have been blemish free.

Shock held Severus rigid for a few breathless seconds, and then Pual Vale's grey eyes snapped to Aidan’s blue ones. He stared intently, for all the world as if he was looking for something, and when he didn’t find it in Aidan’s eyes, his gaze roamed all over the twelve year old face.

“What?” cried Harry and Erin together. Severus straightened and rubbed a hand over his own forehead, wincing a little when he came in contact with the cut near his eyebrow; he swept the hand agitatedly back through his own unfamiliar hair.

“Your scar is visible,” said Severus, and though his voice was dispassionate, it was obvious that he was disconcerted.

Harry raised his hand to his scar and felt the tell-tale ridge. “So…so the potion is wearing off?” he said.

“I told you when I gave you the potion that it does not wear off. You need the antidote.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form the words, Severus cut in. “And no, Potter, I have not made a mistake. I am still transformed, and everything but your scar is as it was once you took the potion.

“Let me see,” said Harry and he rose and headed into the bedroom.

“Why is it such a problem, Sev?” asked Erin. “It can just be covered with his fringe.”

Severus stalked across to the window and back again, then he repeated the action before addressing Erin. “Apart from the fact that I don’t know why the scar has become visible, there is the fact that Potter’s scar is the most famous blemish in the wizarding world and all it would take would be one glance from a witch or wizard for them to know that they were really looking at Harry Potter. And if that witch or wizard was sympathetic to the Dark Lord’s cause…well, I don’t imagine I have to go on.”

Erin shook her head. “But what can we do?” she asked quietly. She watched Severus stalk up and down a few more times. Suddenly, he stopped at the window, and after several seconds of thought, he spun about and stalked into the bedroom and across to the bedside table upon which sat a phone. Harry, who was coming out of the bathroom, and Erin, who had followed Severus, listened as he ordered a copy of each of the afternoon’s newspapers.

When Severus put the phone down, it released both of them from their paralyses. Harry stepped further into the bedroom and Erin said with forced brightness, “How about cups of tea all around?”

When she had disappeared, Harry stepped closer to Severus. “Umm…sir, I think it’s fading again,” he said nervously.

Severus stared for a moment and then closed the space still separating them. Without asking, he reached out and pushed Aidan's fringe out of the way. Sure enough, the scar was definitely paler, and not as upraised as when Severus had seen it minutes ago. He ran his thumb over the mark and Harry just stood there and let Severus Snape touch his face without fear of it turning into an attack…physical or verbal.

“Maybe it only became visible because it hurt so much,” said Harry. Severus removed his hand and let the hair fall back into place. His eyes bore into Aidan’s blue ones.

“I would say that that is a distinct possibility, Potter,” he said with no hint of a sneer.

“Are you two coming?” called Erin, and they could here a kettle heating up in the other room.

“Coming,” called Severus, but he continued to stare at Harry, almost as if he had never seen him before…well, he wasn’t really seeing Harry now, was he?

“You’ve had a rough day, Potter,” Severus said, making him, he knew, the master of understatement.

Harry looked down at his trainers. All he could do was nod, and wonder where this new, seemingly sympathetic Snape had come from, or perhaps more specifically, where he had been hiding all these years. If he hadn’t known better, Harry would have thought that perhaps Polyjuice Potion altered a person’s personality as well as his or her appearance.

Feeling that he should perhaps thank his professor for all the help and care he had bestowed that day, Harry looked up again, his mouth open to speak. Those particular words remained unuttered though, as Harry saw Snape dabbing at the cut near his eyebrow, which had started to weep again.

“Did I do that?” he asked, horrified, his eyes wide, as he pointed at the wound. How had he missed that earlier? Apart from the wound itself, there was a trail of blood down the man’s cheek and neck, and a large stain on the collar of his shirt!

Severus shook his head and walked past Harry into the bathroom where he turned on the tap and grabbed a thick folded face washer and wet it.

“It is of no importance, Potter,” said Severus unconcernedly, as he scrubbed at the trail of blood. “You didn’t know what you were doing.” Harry watched, guilt a heavy weight in his chest, despite Snape’s words of absolution.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway,” muttered Harry, thrusting his hands into his jean’s pockets.

Severus finished his task, conscious of Potter standing there watching him and knowing that the boy was riddled with guilt. One thing that he had learned about Harry Potter over the last several weeks was that the boy had a penchant for heaping blame upon his own, already overburdened shoulders.

“If it will make you feel better, I got my own back seconds later.” Severus finished rinsing out the face washer and hanging it on the tap, before turning to face Harry. “Perhaps you do not remember the slap I had to administer to snap you back to reality.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed. Was he serious? He fingered his left cheek, which, now that he thought about it, did smart a little.

“Really?” he asked sceptically, because he didn’t remember any such slap, and surely he would have.

Snape smirked at him. “Really,” he confirmed before putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders, turning him and giving him a slight push towards the sitting room. “I will not deny that it gave me a certain satisfaction,” he added, but Harry could tell from the amusement in his voice that if indeed Snape had slapped him, then it had given him no satisfaction at all.

The world had indeed shifted on its axis. It seemed both of them had landed a blow upon the other, and neither of them had received any pleasure from the act at all. Ron would think he was mad, so Harry decided in that second that Ron wouldn’t find out about this particular incident.

8888

When they were sitting down drinking their tea, the newspapers arrived. Harry jumped to his feet to answer the knock.

“Potter!” barked Severus, seemingly back to form. “Sit down! I will get the door.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Severus got to his feet. Erin smiled, relieved that he seemed to be back to normal. He had had a very bad day. She was determined to ask Severus exactly what the pain in Harry’s scar was all about…and exactly what Harry’s garbled explanations meant. It was all very strange, but very shocking whilst it was going on. Harry’s agony was all too real, and it was frightening in its intensity. She knew that Severus had been as worried as she had been.

“I think I’ll have a shower, Harry piped up. “I feel yuck.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Erin. “I’ll get Severus to find your toothbrush and some more clean clothes. I don’t want to delve into that never-ending bag. I’d never find anything.”

When Harry was safely out of the room, Erin stood and walked across to Severus who was still standing near the door reading the front page of one of the newspapers; there were two others still folded and tucked under his arm. She could see by his grim face that something bad had happened and she stood next to him and looked at the paper.

A picture of a collapsed bridge took up most of the front page, and the inch high headlines proclaimed it to be the Brockdale Bridge. That was all Erin saw because Severus shoved the paper at her before taking a second out from under his arm and snapping it open. Once again, the front page was taken up with the collapsed bridge.

It only took Erin two minutes to read the whole of the report on the tragedy; the relatively new bridge had just buckled and collapsed, sending a dozen or so cars into the strongly flowing river below. At least twenty-five people were feared dead.

Erin looked up and met Severus’s eyes. He hadn’t bothered to read the last paper’s headline. “Were you expecting this?” she asked, waving the paper a little.

“I was expecting something,” agreed Severus grimly. “I just didn’t know what.”

Erin’s eyes widened. “He did this?” she whispered, appalled.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m almost sure of it. The report said it happened at around ten-twenty this morning…” He opened his eyes again and pinned her with an intense look. “When Potter had his first episode of scar pain on the ferry.”

Erin’s mouth fell open. “You mean, Harry knew that this Voldemort character was doing this?”

“He was aware the Dark Lord was gleeful about something. This must have been it. The bridge was less than ten years old.”

“Oh, Sev…”

Severus nodded grimly. “But what I want to know is, if this caused this morning’s pain, what exactly has happened to cause the pain Potter experienced in the car, and this last episode that was so intense, it negated the strong pain killer and sedative I gave him?”

And why wasn’t I summoned to take part in any of the festivities,he thought uneasily. Severus had never wanted to talk to Albus quite as much as he did at this moment.