It had been a week since the night Harry had shown the Professor his memories, since he'd finally found out that Snape loved him and in turn come to the realization that he loved Snape back. He'd awoken the next morning, the memories of the previous night flooding back to him with an almost overwhelming intensity, bringing tears to his eyes, and for one brief, mortifying moment, he thought he'd dreamed it all, a cruel nightmare where he'd simply imagined the Professor had said those words. Barely allowing himself to breathe he'd glanced over to the chair beside his bed half expecting it to be empty, testament to the terrible truth that the entire memory was imagined, but there he was, robes a sea of black waves at his feet as he sat leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting against clasped hands as he studied the boy with piercing eyes. Usually Harry would have pulled away from his teacher's stare, the emotion of such a moment refusing to allow him the confidence to maintain eye contact, but this time was different, he had to know if last night had been real, had to know if the man he'd come to care about so much had really said the three words that he'd never heard from anyone in his life, and when the Professor's face softened, the corners of his mouth pulling into a gentle smile, Harry knew, knew the words he'd heard had been true, and the tears of worry receded as he silently replied with a small smile of his own.

The days had been effortless, much simpler than Harry could have imagined. There had been no awkwardness between them, no uncertainty, simply a continuation of the ease they had both fallen into already. Harry found himself more and more at home at the manor, something which both delighted and terrified him, for as much as the Professor reassured him, as often as the man had reiterated to Harry that he would never have to go back to the Dursley's, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something would come crashing down on him, tearing his world apart yet again.

The nights, however, hadn't changed. He was still plagued by the horrific nightmares, as savage and raw as the first awful dreams he'd had in Snape's care, wild, terrifying, the painful emotions almost too much to bear, Uncle Vernon mixed with whiskey and Craig, the belt attacking him like a wild animal, and the Professor, sneer and all, watching with cold indifference. Harry awoke every night, racing heart ready to explode, fear gripping his chest with its vice-like fingers, tears spilling from his terrified eyes even before he became fully aware of his surroundings.

And Snape would hold him, even when he shrank back in confusion, still half trapped in dream, pushing the man away, half gasped cries of apology still on his lips, begging to be let go, to please please please not hurt him anymore.

Please. No more…

And Snape would hold him; arms like an anchor, whispering barely heard words of comfort, fighting against the struggles, promising relief, begging the boy to wake, that no harm would come to him again, to please please please believe him.

I'm here, child. I'm here…

xoxoxoxoxoxo

A soft breeze brushed through Harry's unruly hair as closed his eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun, patterns of red, orange, and black dancing against his closed lids. He yawned, the air both sweet and salty on his tongue, and he opened his eyes, wincing as sunlight splashed across his face as he brought up a hand to shield his eyes.

"Both hands!"

Cocking his head at the familiar voice, Harry let out a gentle sigh and glanced across the meadow, seeing the small figure of the Professor and the even smaller one of Ernie in the distance, staring at him, waiting for him to do as he was instructed. Harry gave a small wave before returning his hand to the warm broom handle. The tiny form of Ernie burst into motion, both hands above his head waving wildly, and Harry chuckled as the dark shape of Snape slapped at Ernie's short arms. It was only a moment later, however, that the Professor's own arm rose, waving briefly before turning back to Ernie and jabbing an angry finger at his small friend.

It was obvious the Professor wasn't pleased. A noticeable change had come over Snape since Ernie had arrived that morning for breakfast. His demeanor turned sour as soon as Ernie stepped from the fireplace, the old, worn broom trailing behind him. Snape had taken one look at it, his eyes narrowing in quiet anger as the tiny wizard loudly declared the gift, thrusting the broom towards an astounded Harry.

Harry glanced down at Snape as he started the broom on a slow drift to the other side of the meadow. He'd really appreciated the fact that Ernie had brought him his old broom, a replacement for the one Harry had…he swallowed, brow skewing just for a moment before pushing the thoughts back into the dark. He wouldn't think about that, and anyway, no one knew that he'd been the one who shattered his poor Nimbus.

Maybe the Professor had been upset that he hadn't been the one to get a new broom, Harry wondered, or maybe he didn't want Harry flying at all, or – the boy gasped as the steely, dark eyes of the Professor locked with his, the man's face stern. Or maybe Snape already knew what he'd done, how he'd beaten the man's gift to smithereens! Harry quickly pulled up, eyes ahead now as he shot forward to circle the manor. What if that was the reason for Snape's mood? What if he knew? What if he knew that his gift had been destroyed, and not just destroyed, but the evidence hidden? Maybe that's why he'd never brought it up. Heart quickening in his chest, he sent the broom higher, faster, unaware of his increase in speed and height as his mind raced with apprehension.

'I cannot for the life of me understand how on – slow down!" Snape called as Harry headed towards the house. He turned furious eyes back to Ernie. "How on earth you came to the conclusion this," he snapped, gesturing to the sky with one hand. "Was an intelligent idea. When I mentioned Harry's broom had been destroyed, I had no idea you'd get it into your ridiculous little head to bring him yours!"

Ernie pulled his black porkpie hat from his head and swatted it at Snape's hip.

"Oh, it's fine," Ernie replied, his smile widening as Harry disappeared behind the manor. "I've had it lying around for years gathering dust. The lad does enjoy flying and what's the harm in letting him have some fun after everything he's been through, hmm? I don't know why you're so on edge today. It's just a little broom ride, and just look at him, Severus. He's having a ball up there!" Ernie exclaimed, waving his hat in excitement as Harry dove towards them, pulling up a few feet from the ground, the tip of his shoes slapping across the long grass of the meadow as he raced through the warm July air.

"Harry!" Snape called after him, injecting as much severity into his tone as he dared.

Harry glanced back, his stomach tightening with that horrible, familiar worry. The annoyance in Snape's voice was unmistakable, and slowly Harry led the worn broom in a wide curve and back towards the wrought iron picnic table where Della was busy setting out platters of food for lunch. He drew to a halt and slid to the ground, stomach still in knots at the sight of the Professor stalking toward him, face pinched in anger, nostrils flaring, and suddenly he was the picture of uncle Vernon. All that was missing was a belt in one hand and about a hundred and fifty pounds.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Harry said quickly, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't meant his voice to sound so uneasy, but the words tumbled out of him before he even had time to think, so automatic was his apology. Always sorry. Sorry for living, for breathing, for being. He drew a wet tongue across dry lips as Snape reached him, swallowing hard again, trying oh so hard not to look scared.

"Severus!" Ernie chimed, following at top speed. "Severus don't be so hasty!"

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing?" Snape hissed.

"I –" Harry started, his explanation cut short as the Professor continued.

"Have you any idea how dangerous this activity could become when you decide horseplay is more important than safety?"

"What's gotten into you, Severus? It was just a dive," Ernie argued, patting Harry's hand as it clung to the stained broom handle, knuckles pale and drawn. "And a wee one at that. Nothing to get your knickers in a knot about."

"I beg your –" Severus glared down at the tiny man, his eyes daggers, unable to even form a rebuttal for such an adage.

"I'm just saying," Ernie continued, cutting off Snape's reply and throwing a wink in Harry's direction. "That there's no need to get upset over a teensy weensy little nosedive. Actually, it was more of a gentle swoop now that I think about it, wasn't it, Harry?" He looked up at the boy, completely ignoring the death gaze being pinned on him by the Professor.

"Well, I –" Harry started.

"There," Ernie declared, turning his smile towards Snape, face the picture of innocence, his golden eye glittering mischievously as he set the felt hat back on his head.

"Do not attempt to diffuse the situation with your dim sense of humor," Severus snapped, his voice rising to a near roar as he continued. "I have no doubt that you find every situation so comical; however you will pray excuse me if I take a more serious view of Harry's safety. It was I who spent hours tending to the boy's horrendous injuries, injuries which nearly led to his death, and injuries I was led to believe he obtained falling off a damn broom!"

The silence that fell over the group was jarring. It seemed to encompass the entire island, and for a moment the surrounding birds ceased their jubilant chirping as Severus' words echoed to the very ends of the cliffs. Even the sound of the waves lashing against the mighty Farne seemed to die down.

Harry stared at the Professor, jade eyes swimming with confusion. What was the Snape talking about? He glanced at Ernie, who was still as stone, the same disconcerted look on his face, brow skewed in similar confusion.

Severus sighed, head bowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with cool fingers. He would have preferred to keep that information private from both Harry and Ernie, each for different reasons, his decision rooted in his deep affection for both, and in his momentary lapse of control he had revealed information that neither wizard before him need know.

"I…" he started, running his hand through his hair in frustration at his outburst. "I should not have spoken in such a manner. I apologize."

"What did you mean, Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I never fell of my broom. Who told you I…"

Severus cringed internally as the boy's voice trailed off, obviously realizing who could have passed on such deceitful information. He watched as a shimmer of understanding glistened in the boy's eyes before Harry let his gaze drift to the ground.

"Craig," Ernie said quietly, his voice not much more than a whisper as he slipped his hat off again, potion stained fingers slowly picking at the golden feather. He lifted his head, eye wide, gleaming, the slivers of indigo almost black against the golden iris. "That's what he told you, isn't it? He told you Harry was hurt falling off his broom."

"He did," Severus admitted, his contempt for Harry's abuser flaring at the sadness in his friend's voice.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, lifting his head, eyes heavy with fatigue, but so sincere as he spoke. "I didn't know. I won't use the broom again, Sir, it's alright."

"No, Harry. It is no fault of yours that I was misled," Severus countered gently, giving the young man's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. The dark smudges of weariness under the boy's eyes pained him. "I know how much you enjoy flying, and I am not about to take that away from you, but-" He paused, taking in the honesty of the boy's face, a boy who had just offered to give up one of the last things that brought him happiness in order to calm Severus' worry. "But perhaps you could humor me with more sedate flights for the time being?" He finished, noting Harry's shoulders relax at his words.

"Well," Ernie announced, looking back and forth between Severus and Harry, unease hanging in the air after the revelation. He let out a heavy breath. "Well," he repeated.

"Would Master being needing anything else?" Della chirped, the red and white checkered tea towel she had clutched in her hands flapping in the breeze as she came to stand beside Ernie.

"Not unless you can break an awkward silence," Ernie muttered, running a small hand through his disheveled hair.

Della stood for a moment, her impossibly large opal eyes glancing between Ernie, then Snape, then Harry, then back to Ernie again. Then, before Severus could give her leave, she slowly put all her weight onto her left foot, her right dangling in the air before doing a bizarre little hop, her right foot down now, the left one up. She repeated the movements again, her long ears slapping against her head in rhythm and she bounced from one foot to the other.

Silence hung in the air as the three wizards stared at the hopping Della.

"What's she doing?" Harry whispered under his breath.

"I have no idea," Severus murmured. He tilted his head slightly, regarding the little creature with disconcerted interest. "It almost looks as if she's-"

"Dancing!" Ernie exclaimed with delight. He clapped his hands together in front of his chest as if in prayer and beamed at the house elf who was hopping to and fro, ears flapping in their own wild waltz as the tan little elf continued her disorderly jig.

"That is enough!" Severus said sternly. Della froze, one foot still in the air as she stared back at her Master. Slowly, both ears fell against her head with a soft plop, her leathery brow wrinkled in worry. "That was –" Severus cleared his throat. "very…interesting, Della, thank you."

"That was wonderful!" Ernie cried, nodding encouragingly at the elf as she slowly lowered her foot to the grass.

"It was really neat, Della" Harry added, smiling, and he was rewarded with a sharp-toothed grin.

"We'll call if you need you, hmm?" Ernie said quickly, patting Della on the arm.

"Yes, Mister Russer, Sir," Della replied, bowing low. She waited for a nod from Snape before disappearing with the customary soft pop.

Severus lanced Ernie with a glower.

"If you ever cause my house elf to repeat…that again," he growled, gesturing to the spot where Della had been moments ago. "I shall have you stuffed and mounted."

"Did you see that?" Ernie yelped, ignoring the threatening glare, his voice at an almost frenzied pitch. "Oh, Sevvie, that was fantastic!"

Severus rolled his eyes as Ernie dissolved into giggles, the tiny man beside himself with laughter as the trio made their way over to the table, the intensity of the previous discussion forgotten. He watched Harry slip into his chair, setting the broom on the grass before handing Ernie a plate, his eyes alight with amusement, and a moment later his own gentle laughter joined Ernie's hysterics. Severus caught the boy's eye, and for a moment he was swept up in the feeling of happiness radiating from the child, his child, and in that moment there was no Craig, no Dursleys, no Fudge; just Harry, alive and joyful and free, and his heart both rejoiced and broke at the sight of it, for nothing delighted him more than seeing the boy happy, nor wounded him as much as knowing such happiness would be eaten up by nightmares.

Harry turned back to Ernie and laughed again, and as Snape walked slowly over to join them, an idea formed at the back of his mind.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, quickly scrambling to his feet, abandoning the game of Wizard's Chess he was losing to Ernie. He smiled as the Headmaster stepped down from the hearth.

"Harry," Dumbledore replied, offering the boy a sedate smile. "You are looking much improved. Forgive my unannounced visit. I have an issue of…some importance I wish to discuss with Professor Snape."

"Sir," Harry said softly, taking a step towards the elderly wizard. The Headmaster sounded….different. "Sir, are you –"

"Headmaster?" Snape said quickly, abandoning his chair. He too had sensed the uncharacteristic urgency in the man's countenance. Scarcely did Dumbledore drop his facade of frustrating inanity.

Albus gave Snape a pointed look, and Severus' eyes narrowed in understanding, nodding briefly before the two made their way towards the kitchen.

"Sir?" came Harry's worried voice, and Albus turned back towards the boy.

"The Professor and I must speak briefly, Harry. But I should dearly like to hear about your day once we are finished." Without waiting for a reply, both men disappeared into the kitchen.

"What is it?" Snape asked as soon as the door had closed.

The aged wizard gave him a foreboding look before dropping into one the kitchen chairs, his weary state not unnoticed by Severus. It seemed the Headmaster's journey had been made in great haste.

"I hope you don't mind, Severus, but I wished to convey the news personally." Dumbledore replied, eliciting a nod. "I received an Owl from Arabella Figg." he continued. "It seems the Dursley's have returned early from their vacation."

Severus felt the blood rush from his face, his hands clenching into fists at the mention of Harry's relatives.

"And?" He asked sharply.

Albus pulled his glasses from his face and rubbed at his eyes with fingers soft and marked with age.

"And," he replied, replacing the half-moon spectacles and looking up at Severus with rare, serious eyes. "They would like to know where their nephew is."

Severus' eyes took on a dangerous glint at the Headmaster's words. Something sparked within him, sending tendrils of electricity through his limbs, unconsciously uncurling his fists as the almost painful bolts shot down to his fingertips.

"Also," the elderly wizard continued. "As there is no official understanding between you and Harry in terms of guardianship, and due to the fact that legally the Dursley's are still Harry's guardians –"

"You would have to kill me first, Albus," Snape barked, nostrils flaring as he slammed his palms down onto the table. "You would have to pry that boy out of my cold, dead arms; because that is the only way those disgusting people will ever take him from me."

Albus' eyes twinkled at the outburst, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Formidable indeed, Severus. I take it that you have finally said the words you thought you could not?"

Severus' eyes narrowed in response.

"I was quite hoping," Albus continued. "that you would have told Harry how you feel by now. After today's events, it seems almost providential."

"What have you done?" Severus asked slowly, voice laced with skepticism, the swelling anger in him dimming to suspicion as the Headmaster chuckled. "I am in no mood for your games, Albus." Snape continued, as Dumbledore held up his hand in interruption.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I have been asked to take on the task of Minister of Magic?" Dumbledore asked. Severus' brow rose abruptly.

"I received word today," Albus continued. "I suppose the idea is not unfathomable. Tell me, Severus, what do you think?"

Snape sighed. How typical of the Headmaster to go off on a tangent completely unrelated to the topic at hand. He regarded the man with steely eyes before answering.

"You are widely regarded as one of Britain's most powerful and influential wizards, and, more importantly, a man of…" Severus paused as if unwilling to say the words. "...great honor and virtue," he said with a sneer. "But your presence is needed at Hogwarts, Albus. Please tell me you–" his words faded as the Headmaster began to shake his head.

"Oh my, no," Albus chuckled. "Hogwarts will always be my primary concern, Severus, but that does not prevent me from accepting an interim position. Quite temporary, you see." The old wizard paused, giving his colleague a significant stare, eyes twinkling.

Realization hit Severus before the Headmaster had even finished speaking.

"And you would have every power as Minister, of course," he added, a disconcerting gleam in his eye as he leaned across the table towards the Headmaster.

"Oh yes, yes," Dumbledore affirmed. "Every power," he repeated quietly.

"Have one of your assistants sent an owl," Severus said suddenly, righting himself and straightening his robes. "They should notify Vernon Dursley that one of your representatives will visit him tomorrow to discuss the return of his nephew."

Albus' eyes shone.

"A representative," he said slowly, his temples creasing as a quiet smile crept across his face. "My dear boy, I had no idea you were interested in working for the Ministry."

Snape snorted, a half sneer, half smile gathering at his lips.

"Hogwarts will always be my primary concern, Albus, but that does not prevent me from accepting an interim position," he replied silkily. "Quite temporary, you see."

Dumbledore rose from his chair and reached out, smiling as the Professor's cool palm met his.

"Well then, Severus," Albus announced, shaking Snape's hand. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Vernon Dursley peered out the window for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. The small, grey owl was still there, perched atop the Dursley's mailbox.

Vernon narrowed his eyes hatefully at the creature. It had come last night, flapping its wings against the windows of the front room, scaring the life out of poor Dudley. It dropped its envelope at the front door, then had flown straight to the mailbox where it roosted the entire night.

"Ruddy thing," Vernon grunted as he angled his head to get a better view of the street. It was bad enough that the freaks were coming to Little Whinging, let alone inside his home. His home! He shook his head again at the absurdity of it all. How dare they send one of their unnatural kind to discuss his nephew. He grunted again. Harry was his property, and how dare those freaks take the boy from him. He wrung his hands together almost maniacally. Oh, there would be hell to pay when they brought that little bastard got back.

The clock struck twelve, and almost as if on queue, Vernon's stomach rumbled softly. He'd sent Petunia out with Dudley for the day, as he refused to have them around such monstrosities. Unfortunately, that also meant there was no lunch prepared. His stomach rumbled again as he threw the owl another dirty look.

"Where the bloody hell are they?" he blustered.

"Right here."

Vernon let out a guttural, panicked kind of cry as he spun around, almost losing his footing as he stumbled back in surprise.

"Forgive me for not knocking," Snape said, his words hard and as cold as stone.

"What….where's my nephew?" Vernon sputtered, sweat beading at his brow. He dragged his palms across the rear of his trousers, but they still came away clammy.

"Your nephew," Snape replied icily, "has been removed from your custody by the Ministry of Magic." It was all he could do not to rip the man's head from his fat body. "I am here to inform you that he will not be returning. Your guardianship of Harry Potter is herewith terminated."

"Now you listen here," Vernon growled as he wagged a fat, trembling finger in Snape's face. "No one terminates anything without my say so. That boy's mine, you hear me? So you take your ruddy owl, and you get back on your ruddy broomstick or bird, or magic ruddy carpet and you fly yourself back to wherever it is you freaks come from, and you get me my nephew!"

A tidal wave of rage crashed over Severus. In a flash, he was toe to toe with Vernon, hooked nose flaring, eyes lancing Dursley with a deadly stare.

"No," he snarled. "You listen to me, Dursley. I know the monster you are and I know exactly how Harry was treated in this house." He stabbed his finger into Vernon's chest as he spoke, each word spat with near homicidal intensity. "By you."

Snape took a step forward, forcing the terrified looking Vernon to stumble backwards.

"You treated that boy abominably, and if you think for one single moment that the wizarding world would hand him back to the likes of you, you are sorely mistaken."

Snape took another step, and another, until Dursley's back thudded against the wall, shaking a nearby family portrait askew.

"You're lucky I don't rend you limb from limb right now," Severus continued, his voice absolutely fatal. "And if I were not bound by wizarding law, I would end you here and now in the most unimaginably painful way possible."

Snape removed the finger from Vernon's chest and slipped his hand around the hideous, fat neck, the skin slippery with sweat as he tightened his grip around Dursley's windpipe. He ignored the man's hands grabbing at his, his fingers strong as iron as they clutched the warm, wet flesh, pulse racing under his palm. He had never been so infuriated, so filled with rage. He could literally feel the blood rampaging through his veins, surging within him like a rip tide. He had murdered before, yes, performed unspeakable acts of violence, inflicted pain upon pain, but never in all his years had he been so desperate to end a life, so willing to slaughter, and in the seconds that followed he felt himself squeezing and squeezing and realized that even with all his self restraint, this time he might not be able to prevent himself from killing.

The pulse was slowing now, a tell-tale purple shade of asphyxiation leaching into Dursley's face. Severus' jaw ached, clenching his teeth to the point of near shattering. Slowly, he willed himself to release his grip on the greasy neck, allowing Dursley to fall gasping to the floor. Without pause, he reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of folded papers. He thrust them towards Vernon and ground out a single, vicious word of command.

"Sign."

It took less than a minute for Vernon Dursley to sign the forms, his oversized fingers sloppily gripping the slender pen as his shaking hand scribbled his signature the dozen or so times required.

It was then, with the papers safely back within the secret hollows of his robe, that Severus lifted his wand.

"As you have done to that child," he snarled, "So shall it be done to you. From this day forward, whenever you close your eyes, you shall experience every atrocity you heaped upon that boy as if the memory was yours. Every time you sleep, every time you even blink, you will be reminded of what you've done. You will feel every terror, every unimaginable fear, every instance that child thought he would perish under your authority."

Snape whispered a handful of Latin, the words forming a physical presence, each letter glowing with gentle azure as it left the tip of his wand and circled around the fat beast at his feet.

"Ut vos vulnero, sic vadum vos vulnero. Forever sentio suus poena."

Upon completion of the spell, the text slowly sank into the man's skin, leaving an outline of each letter which glowed brightly for a moment before dissipating. Without another word, without trusting himself to remain any longer, Snape turned on his heel and stormed out the front door.

He could have apparated directly from the living room. There was no need to stalk down Privet Drive in full wizard regalia, robe billowing as if possessed, each step timed with an enraged breath, adrenaline sharp in his chest as he strode past Arabella Figg's small cottage. The elderly witch was standing at her front window, watchful eyes upon him. Without slowing, he gave her a brisk nod, and she returned the action with a slow dip of her head, a subtle smile on her face, and Severus couldn't help one of his own as the screams broke out at number four.