Harry looked around his newly-decorated room, and a strange feeling swelled in his chest. He knew that Spinner's End held many bad memories for Severus, but for Harry, the dilapidated house, was really the first place, other than Hogwarts, that he could truly call home.

It was a testament to how much Severus had changed in the past few weeks, that he'd even allowed Harry free reign when it came to decorating the house; hell, he'd even allowed Harry to incorporate some Gryffindor colours throughout certain rooms. The Snape of old would never have laid aside his own feelings, to accommodate another.

But Snape had implied that he cared about Harry, even if it wasn't a gushing declaration, and Harry thought that though they'd had their ups and downs, that they'd made amazing progress in their relationship, which brought Harry to make a rather life-changing decision; he knew just what he was going to get Severus for Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, Harry had been hoping to convince Severus to get a Christmas tree. He wondered if, after the reserved man had already allowed him to transform his home, it was too much to ask if he could decorate for Christmas as well. The man probably didn't even own a Christmas ornament.

“So, is it to your liking?” A deep voice startled him.

Harry turned around to see an unreadable expression on his father's face.

“Yes, very much,” Harry said sincerely.

Although Severus teased him about the colour scheme of his room, it really wasn't over the top. Yes, the room had splashes of red and gold throughout, but the bedding and curtains, also had deep midnight blue trimming.

Harry had a desk, with which to do his homework, and since the house was situated in a Muggle neighbourhood, it had all the Muggle amenities, such as running water and electricity, so Harry convinced Severus to allow him to purchase a computer, and a television set for his room.

Although Harry had been living in the Wizarding World for seven years now, he had spent the first eleven years of his life, and every summer afterwards, watching Dudley being spoilt by his aunt and uncle. It didn't even have to be a special occasion, for Dudley to be lavished with presents, but at Christmas and birthdays, he received many more presents than one child should ever receive. What Dudley wanted, Dudley got.

If his cousin went to a friend's house, and that friend had the newest video game or toy, then Dudley would rush home, and drag his aunt and uncle to the store to buy it for him. What was worse, was that it was thoughtlessly discarded the moment Dudley tired of it. Harry would have been thrilled to receive Dudley's hand-me-down toys, if only they'd not been virtually destroyed by the careless boy. Even if the object was still in decent condition, they'd never allow Harry to have anything that would give him pleasure; not when their goal in life, was to make him as miserable as possible.

While Harry knew that Severus would never have indulged him as his aunt and uncle did with Dudley, Harry was confident that the man would never have starved or beat him, and perhaps bought him a present or two for his birthday or Christmas, that didn't involve stinky, holey, second-hand socks.

Harry pushed down a wave of bitter regret for his lost childhood, and what could have been. He felt a strong hand squeeze his shoulder, and looked up to see his father's dark gaze upon him, with what could constitute fondness. The man was very intuitive and Harry had a feeling that Severus knew exactly what Harry was thinking, while staring with awe at the wonderful bedroom, that was all his. A bedroom that was not a cupboard under the stairs, that didn't have bars on the windows, that didn't consist of a small cot, with springs poking at his ribcage, and childish drawings adorning the walls of a cupboard that was meant to house mops, broomsticks, and cleaning products, not small, dark-haired children, with sad emerald eyes.

Yes, as Harry stared at the large, four poster bed, with the thick blue, burgundy and gold comforter, and matching curtains, the pale caramel coloured walls, with burgundy trim, the polished, cherry-wood bureau, night tables, and large desk that housed a small laptop computer on it, the shelves of books that Harry had been allowed to choose, from not only the local bookstore, but Severus' own personal library, and the large area rug, with splashes of burgundy, blue and gold woven into it, Harry's throat clogged with emotion.

Severus had given more to Harry in the short time that they'd known each other, than in all the years he'd spent with his relatives.

“Come Harry,” Severus whispered in his ear, “let's have dinner. We mustn't arrive too late at Hogwarts. I have some grading to do, and I imagine that you must have some homework to complete as well.”

Harry groaned. It wasn't as though he wasn't looking forward to seeing his friends and Ginny, but this had been a magical couple of days, and he wanted it to last forever.

“We'll be back next weekend Harry,” Severus said, squeezing his shoulder again. “And perhaps, if you behave, we will, Merlin Forbid, get a Christmas tree,” he said, his lip curling in disgust, or rather pretending to be appalled at the idea. In truth, Harry's excitement and anticipation of the holiday, was drawing Severus out from the dark abyss that he'd sentenced himself to, the day that he'd lost Lily. He found himself, albeit reluctantly, getting caught up in Harry's enthusiasm, and for the first time in many years, was looking forward to Christmas. He had his son back, and Severus was determined that not only would he try to make up for all the time that they'd lost, but that he'd make the most of the future that he and Harry had together.

Harry smirked at him. “You know, I was thinking Severus, that since you're in the Christmas spirit and all now, that maybe you could dress up as Father Christmas, visit the local orphanage and hand out prezzies and candy canes.”

The comforting hand resting on his shoulder lifted to swat him on the back of the head lightly.

Harry grinned.

“You young man,” Severus growled, pointing a long potion-stained finger at Harry, “are getting a little too cheeky for your own good.”

“I try.”

“Yes, and you do it so well,” he smirked.

“So, you said-” Harry began, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread; part of the leftovers from Susan's lasagne dinner the night before, “-that I'd be able to have my friends over during the Christmas holidays?”

Severus peered at Harry from over his teacup. “Harry, I've already told you. This is as much your home as mine. In fact,” he said clinking the cup lightly on the saucer, “you have made this dilapidated shack feel more like home, than it ever did, growing up.”

Harry's eyelids flicked up to catch the shuttered expression that passed over Snape's sallow features. Harry knew that that would be the most he'd get out of the man about his life growing up. Harry felt a wave of shame wash over him, when he realised that it must have taken enormous effort for the controlled man to allow Harry entry to his most painful memories, and to do it because he, Harry, had screwed up; to relive such horrific memories, so that his son would be spared a painful future.

"And you've given me a home...a real home. I came so close," Harry said bitterly, "with Sirius." Harry's throat clogged with emotion.

"I'm sorry, I know that you and Sirius didn't get along," Harry said, his fingers tracing the lacy patterns on the tablecloth. He was afraid to look up and see Severus' reaction at the mention of Sirius.

"Harry," Severus said in a husky voice, "look at me please."

Harry slowly lifted his eyes up, and was surprised to see that Severus' expression was not one of hatred towards his Godfather, as he'd been expecting, but one of regret and concern.

"As your father," Severus began uncomfortably, "I wish for you to feel that you can speak with me about anything that concerns you, without fear of rejection or anger."

Harry was surprised at the sincerity reflected in the man's eyes, especially when the subject matter was Sirius Black; Harry felt a spark of hope. It was difficult to move forward in his relationship with his father, when they were always walking on eggshells. But he still wondered if they would ever be able to discuss certain subjects that would always be painful reminders of his father's tumultuous childhood. He wondered if he was selfish for even bringing it up, and if Severus could seriously ever discuss Sirius, and especially James with him, without losing his temper, or spewing biting sarcasm.

Not only that, as much as he believed his father wanted to be available for him emotionally, by assuring Harry that no subject was taboo, past experience with his father's volatile temper, no matter that he'd curbed it considerably for Harry's sake, had him questioning the wisdom of bringing up any mention of a Marauder.

“I realise that this is rather hypocritical of me, as I've done just that in the past.”

“I know that you have good reason to hate James and Sirius,” Harry said softly, lifting his eyes up to meet Severus' intense stare.

“I have to admit Harry, that in the past, I did indeed hate both Black and Potter, however, my feelings of resentment have abated somewhat, since your reckless decision to bring me back from the grave.”

Harry glared at Severus. “Hey, if I hadn't made that reckless decision, you wouldn't be sitting here now.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “You misunderstand me Harry,” he said, lifting his teacup, and taking a sip. “While I still disapprove of the risk that you took to bring me back, and-” he pointed a long finger at Harry, “-if you ever pull a dangerous stunt like that again, and it doesn't kill you, you'll have to deal with me. I am pleased, however,” he said gruffly, “that we have a second chance-- that I have a second chance to be a father.”

Harry smiled crookedly at his father. The stern look was still in place, but Harry could tell that Severus was out of his depth emotionally. For him to admit even that, was a step forward.

“I can't be sorry for what I did Severus, not when I got a father-” he waved his hand, “-and a home out of it.” At his father's stormy expression, Harry quickly added, “but I promise to not be so reckless in the future.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep Potter,” Severus growled.

Harry smirked at him. “Alright, I'll try not to be so reckless.”

Severus' eyes flashed dangerously. “Do not be so nonchalant with your life Harry. As I said, while I'm very grateful to have a chance to make up for all the pain that I've caused you over the years, the outcome might not have been so positive. You yourself, have had to live with the consequences of subjecting yourself to such Dark Magic these past few weeks. While your intentions were noble, you could very well have paid for your recklessness, with your life,” he said in a hard voice.

“I know,” Harry whispered, lowering his eyes.

“That said,” Severus said in a husky voice, “have I told you how very honoured, and humbled I am, that you would take such a risk for a man that has treated you-” a shadow crossed over his face, “less than kindly.”

“Even if I hadn't known that you were my father, you risked your life for me, time and time again, and yeah, you were kind of an arsehole to me, but you sacrificed a lot for me, and I thought that if anyone deserved a second chance, it was you.”

“I was more than,” Severus smirked, “-than a bit of an arsehole to you.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, you were a downright bastard actually.”

The corner of Severus' mouth lifted. “No one can ever accuse you of being at a loss for words.”

Harry grinned.

“Seriously though Harry, in reality, my feelings towards Black changed considerably back in your fifth year, were I to admit it to myself.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“How could I continue to hate a man, who without a thought for his own safety, risked his life, to save that of my son's; whether he was aware of the fact or not.”

Harry gaped at his father. “But you hated me then.”

“I never hated you Harry. I had to act like I hated you, and perhaps I performed my job a little better than was needed,” he said sardonically, “but how could I truly hate my own son? My feelings were very ambiguous, I must admit.”

Harry stomach twisted painfully. “It was my fault that Sirius died.”

Harry eyes flickered in surprise, when he felt Severus' callused hand over his.

“It is not your fault,” he said sternly.

“But I shouldn't have gone to the Ministry-” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, -and I should have tried harder with Occlumency.”

Severus took a deep breath. “There are perhaps many mistakes that we all made Harry-” His eyes shadowed, “-myself more so than others. I should not have taunted Black--I should not have ended our lessons-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “I shouldn't have invaded your privacy. I never apologised for that,” he said, looking at Severus guiltily.

“It serves no purpose Harry, to torture ourselves with self-recriminations. What's done is done, and, if given the chance, there are many things in the past that we would all change, but the reality is that we cannot, and you must remember that Black cared deeply for you, and went to the Ministry of his own free will.”

“But he wouldn't have gone if I hadn't have gone running off to-”

“Harry,” Severus said firmly, “from what Albus explained to me, Kreacher fed you false information. You are not responsible for your Godfather's actions, and yes, perhaps you should have consulted with an adult before rushing off to the Ministry, but,” his voiced hardened, “you are in no way, shape or form, responsible for your Godfather's death. That honour belongs to the Dark Lord and Lestrange, do you understand me?”

Harry nodded. He knew that his father was right, or at least his better sense knew that, but even after two years, there was always an underlining sense of guilt and grief that lay just under the surface of his consciousness. The worst of it was, he'd barely gotten over the pain of losing Cedric, when Sirius died, and then the many deaths that he'd had to deal with since; Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Fred, and too many more to count, that had sacrificed their lives to help bring down Voldemort. Harry felt responsible for them all; he'd always felt as though he had the stain of blood on his hands.

Looking up at the man before him, Harry thought how ironic it was, that the man who been responsible for much of his pain throughout his years at Hogwarts, was now the man who offered him salvation; a refuge from the fresh pain of death and loss. It had been a rough start for them both, and they still had a long road ahead of them, but Harry could not express to the dark man before him, how grateful he was for his quiet strength and unwavering support.

Harry knew that it wasn't easy for a man like Severus to admit when he'd made a mistake and even harder for him to express his feelings, so Harry was very grateful for the effort that the man had made to change.

Harry's eyes shone with emotion. “Thank you for saying that Severus. It means a lot to me.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Harry smiled. “I guess that sometimes I just need it grilled into my thick head.”

Severus smirked. “Happy to oblige.” He rose, and leant over the table; he rapped lightly on the top of Harry's head.

Harry grinned.

Severus began to clear the cutlery and silverware off the table. “We really must be getting back Harry.”

Harry nodded sadly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They'll be many more weekends like this, I promise.”

Harry looked up into his father's dark eyes. “I hope so.”

--------------

Harry threw his bags on his bed in their quarters, and tried to squash down his disappointment at leaving Spinner's End.

He lay down on his bed, and leant his head back on his soft pillow; he twisted around, and pulled his wand out from the back pocket of his jeans. An unbidden thought of Moody's warning back in fifth year about the hidden dangers to your buttocks at stashing your wand in your back pocket, had Harry chuckling to himself.

Then a lump formed in his throat, as he thought of never seeing the disfigured wizard again, and of all those brave people, who had fought side-by-side with him against Voldemort. He owed all of them so much, and he'd never get the chance to express his gratefulness and appreciation for their loyalty and courageousness in the face of grave danger.

With a flick of his wand, Harry watched absent mindedly, as his bag unzipped on its own, and his belongings floated through the air, landing in their rightful place, as his bureau drawers opened to accommodate them.

Harry's first thought, was how anxious he was to see Ginny, and then the frustration when he realized that he would have to wait till tomorrow morning at breakfast, because he was still on restriction. He cursed himself for screwing up so badly, and with a sigh wondered if he could talk Severus into allowing him to have a few minutes with his friends and Ginny. Knowing his father though, he rather doubted he would bend, even a little.

Harry was right in his assumption.

Severus lifted an eyebrow at his son's audacity. “No, you may not see your friends tonight,” he said sternly. “It would not be fair to the others if I made an exception for you. You will wait till tomorrow at breakfast,” he said firmly.

Harry huffed. “Fine,” he said sulkily.

“Harry,” Severus said warningly.

“Sorry,” Harry said apologetically. He bit down his disappointment. He really didn't want to spoil the lovely weekend they'd had by acting like a prat. He knew that he had only himself to blame for his restriction, and would take his punishment like a man. After all, it was only another week or so, and he would see Ginny tomorrow, and when he did, he would run his fingers through her long, silky hair, and-”

Harry blushed when he realised that Severus was smirking at him, as if reading his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes at his father.

“Are you Leglimizing me?” he asked suspiciously.

The corners of Severus' mouth lifted. “There is no need for that Harry. It is quite apparent what you are thinking about, or should I say whom you are thinking about,” he smirked.

Harry's face felt like it was on fire. No, he would not discuss his love life with his father.

“I was just making some tea, would you care for some?”

Harry nodded. “Yes please.”

Severus squeezed Harry's shoulder. “How about a games of chess?” He smirked. “Let's see if your skill has improved any.”

“Hey! I almost beat you last game.”

Severus lifted an eyebrow at him. “If you wish to believe that.”

Harry huffed.

“Set up the board, and I'll make the tea.”

---------

Three games later, a thoroughly defeated Harry, scowled at his father's smug smirk.

“Perhaps Mr. Weasley could give you some pointers.”

“Very funny,” Harry grumbled.

“I think that I'll retire for the evening. Perhaps you should do so as well,” he said as he began to extinguish the lanterns.

“Yeah, run away before I have a chance to thrash you,” he said over his shoulder.

He heard a deep chuckle. “In your dreams son.”

Harry always felt a warm glow creep up on him, every time his father called him son. Perhaps it was a bit childish of him; he was seventeen now—an adult, but although his heart broke at the thought that he had another father, that he'd never get to know, never be able to thank for his wonderful sacrifice, and a mother whom he'd only ever know from the anecdotes that others recounted to him, he now had a living, breathing father, who he could always count on, who'd always be there for him, even if he was technically an adult now.

That lonely, desperate feeling of having no anchor, no roots, was now replaced by a sense of belonging, and finally feeling as though he'd never feel alone again.

--------

“Harry,” Ginny jumped up excitedly from the Gryffindor table, and almost toppled her chair to the ground in the process. She wrapped her arms around him, and whispered in his ear.

“I missed you,” she said breathlessly.

Harry lifted his hand to her face, and let his fingers brush gently against the smooth, lightly-freckled skin, that felt as smooth as porcelain. He held her for a moment, breathing in the sweet, intoxicating smell of her hair, her lightly floral perfume, and feeling as though he never wanted to let go. Harry couldn't believe that of all the blokes that she could have chosen, she had chosen him.

Harry felt his face heat up, when he realised that they had an audience; Seamus and Neville were sniggering at him, and Ron was glowering. Down the table, Hermione gave him a small sad smile, as her eyes flickered quickly, over to Ron.

“I miss you too,” Harry said in a husky voice.

“I guess that we'd better sit down,” Ginny chuckled, not embarrassed in the least.

One thing that Harry had to credit Ginny with, was that she couldn't care less about the opinions of others. She was her own person, and kept true to her principles. Harry thought that they complimented each other in many ways. Yes...Ginny could be a little hotheaded at times, and was certainly his match. Harry chuckled to himself; Ginny could definitely give as good as she got. She was every inch his equal, and he respected her immensely.

While Ginny was also very brave, as she'd demonstrated from the moment they'd met, she also had an air of calmness, that soothed his jagged nerves, when he was feeling particularly agitated or torn apart from feelings of guilt or helplessness. She was the missing piece of the puzzle; she was his soul-mate.

“Snap!” Harry's eyes blinked. “Earth to Harry,” Ginny's voice teased in a sing-song voice, as the crack of her fingers snapping, jolted Harry back to the present.

“Oh sorry,” Harry said softly. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that no matter how much of an arse I am-” he took her small hand in his, brushing his finger lightly against her soft skin, “-you're still here...by my side,” he said, his voice strangled with emotion.

Harry's stomach swirled when she leant up on her tippy-toes and gently pressed her lips to his.

“Oy! Enough you two,” Seamus said, rolling his eyes. “I'm trying to eat my breakfast here,” he grinned.

Dean smirked. “Yeah, go get a room.”

Harry felt his face heat up; for a moment there, it had felt as though no one else in the world existed.

Harry and Ginny forced themselves to focus on eating their breakfast, while sending messages to each other, with a look of the eye, or a small smile; they communicated in a language that only they understood—it was the language of love.

Breakfast was rather an awkward affair, what with Ron scowling, and shoveling his breakfast in his mouth as quickly as he could, in what was obviously an effort to make his escape as rapidly as could be achieved, while still making certain that he cleaned off every last morsel of food on his plate. He glared hatefully at Hermione, when sounds of laughter drifted over from towards the end of the table, where Hermione was engaged in a conversation with Parvati. Her laughter sounded false to Harry's ears; brittle and forced, and it was obvious to him that she was trying very hard to avoid looking over at this end of the table.

Harry laid his cutlery on his plate, and rose reluctantly, pulling Ginny gently to her feet.

“I've got to go. I forgot my Defence books in the Dungeons, and my father will flip a bird if I come to class, unprepared,” he said, lowering his voice an octave, and raising a dark eyebrow, in the true Snape fashion.

Ginny felt a shiver up her spine; Oh Merlin, Harry, at times, pegged Snape's famous glare, just a tad too much for comfort. Thankfully, he didn't glare when he was kissing her passionately; Ginny tried to erase that image from her retina.

But as Harry leant close, and brushed his lips against her ear, and then lay little kisses down the side of her jaw; making her tingle with anticipation until he reached her mouth, and his lips felt warm and passionate against her own, all comparisons to her stern professor, went out the window.

“See you at lunch,” Harry said, kissing the top of Ginny's silky hair.

Ginny nodded, “You'd better hurry Harry, she said looking at the silver-chained watch that emphasized the fine bones of her tiny wrist.

Harry's heart swelled as he looked down at the petite girl, whose wrists were so delicate and small, that Harry thought that he could probably wrap his large hand around both wrists, and still have room to spare. But this beautiful fragile-looking creature, was far from being a pushover, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how it was the poor fool who made the mistake of assuming that he could bend this tiny young woman to his will, only to be quite firmly put in his place, by this compact little spit-fire.

“See you later Harry. You'd better hurry if you want to have time to get your books,” she said slyly.

“Oh crap, you're right,” he said, as he turned to, but he swung back quickly, grabbed Ginny firmly by the shoulders, and quickly planted a sound kiss on her parted lips.

He grinned. “See you later.”

Ginny chuckled, as Harry sped off towards the staircase, leading to the Dungeons.

-----------

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness Potter,” Snape barked, not even looking over at his son, who was standing hesitatingly in the doorway; his face warmed as all eyes turned towards him.

Harry scowled at his father's turned back. This whole not showing favourtism to his son in class was getting tiresome. He could use a little favourtism right now.

He scooted quickly to take a seat beside Ron, and gritted his teeth as Adams and Pansy smirked at him. He did notice that since Snape had come down so hard on Adams, after he'd thrashed Harry, Adams was very careful not to show any outward aggression towards him; no Adams had found a new way to torment him, in a way that was very Slytherin.

He threatened other Slytherins into doing his dirty work, and it was so subtle, that no one else would notice, but Harry knew that he was not so forgetful that he'd misplace his quills, or work till the wee hours of the night on an assignment, only to retrieve it from his satchel, and find only an empty parchment staring him in the face. Predictably, his Professors were sceptical of his adamant insistence that the blank parchment had, only this morning, been filled with his chicken scratch.

If it were not for the fact that his father had seen his completed homework, then Harry would have lost points and or been given detention for failing to complete his homework. As it was, he had to listen to a scathing lecture on his lack of organizational skills, and lack of responsibility, not to mention the threat that the next time that he misplaced his assignments he would not be afforded the opportunity to re-do the assignment, and he would receive a zero. As it was, Harry had several assignments that he had to re-do, as well as complete the new homework that he'd been assigned.

The ever-present smirk on Adams' face told Harry that somehow the brawny Slytherin was responsible, but Harry couldn't prove it. Harry also couldn't figure out how he had managed to do it.

Harry began to be suspicious, (as if he hadn't been before) of every Slytherin that walked by him. At every sudden movement, he flinched and his hand flew to his pocket to retrieve his wand. Harry had taken to placing protection charms on his satchel and his possessions but it was driving him mad that everyone thought that he was losing his mind.

Draco, surprisingly, was basically ignoring him, which Harry was thankful for, but he was a little irked that the blond seemed to be sucking up to Severus. Harry rolled his eyes, when every time Hermione raised her hand to answer a question, the Slytherin raised his hand as well. Of course he was thoroughly annoyed that his father completely ignored Hermione to call on Malfoy, who answered every question with alarming accuracy.

Harry was also confident in his own skills in Defence, but had not wanted to compete against Hermione, but it was obvious that Severus was thirsty for an opportunity to award Slytherin points.; a leopard didn't change their spots, Harry thought in a huff.

By the end of the lesson, Harry was already in a snit over his inexplicably over-turned inkwell, his missing assignment, and flopping to the floor on his arse, when his chair moved back on its own just as Harry was about to sit down, but when he looked back to see Malfoy hovering over his father's desk, playing the teacher's favourite, well, that was just the icing on the cake, to add to his already foul mood.

He grabbed his satchel from the back of his chair, and stalked towards the door. His temper crested when he heard Ron growl at Hermione to watch where she was going, when she knocked into him as she was walking out the door.

Harry swung around, his eyes flashing. “That's it!”

He clamped each of them by their upper arms, and propelled the both of them forward, despite the fact that Ron was quite a bit taller, and larger than him.

“What the hell?” the redhead sputtered.

Harry, with adrenalin lending him a strength he didn't know he possessed, dragged both Hermione and Ron, up the Enchanted Staircase.

Reflecting on it later, Harry surmised that both his friends must have been in shock, not to have protested more vehemently.

Harry dragged them down the corridor, until he came to the deserted corridor that housed the Room of Requirement. Harry concentrated on what he wanted, while still clamping firmly his friends squirming arms. Suddenly, the smooth wall morphed into a doorway, and Harry grabbed the handle, opened the door and shoved his friends into the room before him.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, as she licked her lips nervously. “Harry?”

Ron's freckled face flushed with anger. “What are you playing at Harry? Why did you bring us here?”

“I've had enough of you two acting like children. You are not leaving here until you make up,” Harry said, crossing his arms belligerently across his chest.

Ron's eyes flashed dangerously, as he shoved Harry aside. “Like hell we're not.” He turned to glare at Hermione. “I've got nothing to say to this traitor.”

Ron's eyes widened in horror, as his hand that had clutched onto the door handle, was suddenly grasping at air.

He spun around angrily. “What did you do with the door Potter?” he screeched.

“I didn't do anything, but obviously the room has decided that you're not leaving until you resolve this ridiculous argument.”

It was like the air blew out of Ron's sails. “She betrayed us mate. She snitched on us to McGonagall and Snape. How could you just forgive her like that?”

“Because friends take care of friends Ron, and I realised that Hermione was only taking care of us. We've been friends for going on seven years now. We've been through hell and back, and I'm not going to let you throw it away because of your stupid pride,” he said through gritted teeth.

“A true friend is one that will do what is best for the one they care about, regardless of the consequences,” Harry said softly. “I think it took amazing courage for Hermione to go to McGonagall, knowing that we'd be royally pissed off at her when we found out,” he said with a crooked smile.

Hermione twisted her fingers in the fabric of her jumper. “Ron, I am sorry, but I care about you and Harry, and I take my responsibilities as a Prefect seriously. The party was spiraling out of control, and you two were dangerously inebriated, I felt I had no choice but to seek help. I'm sorry if you felt betrayed, but I'd rather you'd be furious with me, than come to harm.”

Hermione's eyes crinkled. “I care about you and Harry. I couldn't bear it if I lost you two. I'd do it again if I had to,” she said firmly. “I'd never forgive myself if I'd lost you two.”

Ron raked his fingers through his flaming hair.

Hermione came to stand before him, and hesitatingly took his hands in hers. His eyes flickered with emotion.

“I love you Ron,” she whispered. “I'd never purposely do anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said in a strangled voice, and pulled her close to his chest.

They stood that way for a few moments, before Hermione pushed Ron away suddenly, exclaiming in a horrified voice, “We're late for Transfiguration!”

Harry groaned. McGonagall was going to roast them.

Harry stared at the wall, and clenched his eyes shut. We need a door...we need a door.

Suddenly, the door appeared, and the three of them ran in a gallop towards the Transfiguration classroom.

At the click of the door, thirty heads turned their way.

McGonagall glared at them. “The bell rang ten minutes ago. Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you,” she said sharply.

Hermione blushed, and hurriedly took a seat.

“Five points from each of you.”

Harry groaned. At this rate, the House Cup would definitely go to Slytherin this year. Severus would be gloating.

------

After a long, drawn-out kiss to Ginny, Harry reluctantly parted ways with her to spend the rest of the evening with his father.

Upon entering their quarters, Harry dragged himself over to the sofa, and dramatically threw himself down on it; he plunked his bag on the floor with a thud.

He closed his eyes, and felt some of the weariness wash away from him. It had been a rather trying day, and surprisingly enough, he was happy to be at home. It was strange that, he thought; just when exactly, had he started to think of his quarters with Severus as his home...as his refuge he didn't know, but his father's presence had a way of calming him, and making him feel safe.

He heard the clink of cutlery, and a thump. His eyelids fluttered open, to reveal his father standing over him, with a worried look on his face, and a steaming cup of tea sitting on the coffee table.

“Are you feeling unwell Harry? You look rather pale.”

Harry pulled himself up in a sitting position.

“Just had a rough day, that's all,” he said wearily.

Harry lifted the cup of tea off the saucer and cradling the cup, took a sip of the wonderfully fruity beverage; he felt the warm liquid slide down his throat, and heat up his insides. How did Severus always know what would make him feel better?

“Thanks,” Harry said gratefully.

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. He suspected that there was something else going on that Harry wasn't telling him. He knew that Harry was used to handling things on his own, and after many years of feeling let down by the adults in his life, a crime of which he was the most guilty of, Harry was loathe to confide in him, preferring to deal with his problems on his own.

Severus fervently hoped that with time, Harry would feel more comfortable confiding in him, and trusting that he only had his son's best interests at heart. Severus wasn't a fool though; trust took time to build, and he knew that he had treated Harry very badly in the past, and that old wounds took time to heal.

Severus sat down in the chair across from Harry, and took a sip of his own tea. He placed it down carefully upon the saucer, and looked at Harry with his dark eyes.

“If you feel the need to talk-” he began stiffly.

Harry smiled. “Thanks, but for now, this is something that I'd like to deal with on my own. But I'll keep your offer in mind.”

Severus nodded. “Very well, but if you feel you're in over your head, you are to come to me,” he said sternly.

A smile tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth. He knew that this was Severus' way of saying that the door was always open. The man was more transparent than he knew, but of course Harry would keep that little observation to himself.

“Uh, I was wondering...” Harry began hesitatingly. He fidgeted nervously; running his hand through his dark hair.

“Yes,” Severus prompted.

“Well...” Harry licked his lips nervously, “-they are having an information session on Friday on the Auror Training Program, and-”

“And you need to go to the Ministry—correct?”

Harry nodded. “Is there any chance that we could go into London?”

Hogwarts closed for the holidays on Thursday; Christmas was on a Monday this year, and Harry needed to still buy his Christmas presents, and he had something very special in mind for Severus.

Severus took another sip of his tea, before answering Harry.

“Yes, that would suit me as well. I need to go to the Ministry as well,” he said slowly.

Harry blinked. “You do?”

“Yes, I need to file some paperwork with the Patent office for some of my original formulations.”

“Great. I need to buy a few Christmas presents as well.”

“Very well then. We shall both to the Ministry, then perhaps we could go to Hogsmeade afterwards and you may complete your Christmas shopping there. Afterwards, we'll Apparate to Spinner's End. Does that sound satisfactory?”

“Sounds great,” Harry said, his mood lifting considerably. “That'll give us enough time to decorate for Christmas,” Harry said happily.

Severus groaned. Oh Merlin, his house was going to be transformed to look like Father Christmas' quarters at the North Pole, and he had foolishly agreed to allow himself to be surrounded by noisy Gryffindors during the Holidays. What had he gotten himself into?