Harry knew there was something wrong almost as soon as the fire pulled them away from the dungeons. After the initial punch Floo travel, the sickening spinning began to slow.

No, no, please! We’re nowhere near Hogwarts; we can’t have made it to Scotland already.

The meagre amount of Floo powder propelling them ignored his pleas and, with a jolt similar to a car bouncing over a pothole, the Floo system dropped them into a room. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through a window as he spat and coughed and gasped out the ash trying to crawl into his lungs.

Eventually, the ash lost the battle, and Harry lay exhausted, his cheek pressed into the shiny black floor. For a horrible moment he thought they had simply been spat out into another part of the tunnel system, but the warm sun soaking into his hair and the expensive wooden desk plonked in the middle of the room reassured him otherwise.

He huffed, coughed again, and grudgingly propped himself up so he might check on what had happened to Malfoy. The other boy lay – out cold – a couple of feet away. Harry carefully pressed two fingers to the other boy’s throat, immediately relieved when he found a pulse.

Energy exhausted for the moment, Harry laid his cheek back on the surprisingly comfortable floor and closed his eyes, trying to convince his heart to finally slow its sickening drumroll. They may not be safe just yet but Voldemort didn’t know where they were and there was a wonderful lack of Fiendfyre, which was a large improvement in Harry’s opinion.

He had no idea how long he lay there, or even if he had drifted off, but he became aware of approaching footsteps. Thanking anyone who was listening that he no longer had to wear glasses, for they would have surely been smashed, Harry blearily opened his eyes and glanced up at the doorway.

The footsteps stopped.

For a moment, Harry was convinced he must be seeing things due to a bump on the head, but slowly, his vision became clearer and still the apparition remained. Groaning slightly, Harry propped himself up again. “Dad?”

“Harry.” The man couldn’t seem to speak above a whisper as his wide eyes took in the scene.

Somehow, his father’s voice broke the spell and Harry struggled to his knees just as the other swept into the room and pulled him into a hug. Or, more accurately, attempted to cut off all oxygen from his lungs. Harry’s chest was yelling at him to breathe, but he found he didn’t care overly much due to the overwhelming sensation that he was finally safe.

A ball of spent fear and shock seized his throat and tore out a choked sob, but the impulse to cry was gone as soon as it had come.

The sound shook Snape out of his stupor. “What are you doing here?”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of anger in the question. It sounded almost rhetorical, but he pulled away to answer anyway.

“Malfoy…” He glanced over at the person in question. “He…” He stopped again, unsure how to even start. A swell of childish indignation overtook him as he still searched for the words. “It’s his fault,” he insisted, looking up at his father, who shot him a dirty look that even Harry could read as ‘stop being so immature’.

“Well, it was! And he… we…” Again he broke off, unable to find the right words for everything he’d seen, everything he’d felt. “Dad, I’m so glad you’re here.”

The man only responded with a one-armed squeeze, but that was somehow enough. “Come along, I’m sure you can regale me with your tales of ridiculous heroism safely back at Hogwarts. We certainly can’t stay sitting on,” he paused to read the sign on the open door, “Healer Bose’s office floor all day. Mobilicorpus!”

Malfoy floated up like some creepy puppet and hung in the air. Harry was vividly reminded of Snape’s own experience with this particular charm mere months ago.

“So… You’re not mad at me, then?” Harry asked hopefully, accepting the hand his father offered to help him up.

Snape sighed heavily, and turned to head off down the corridor, keeping a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Quite frankly, I’m relieved to see that you are safe. Despite the fact that you should be in that state in Hogwarts anyway! Merlin, you are going to give me grey hair, child. Besides, I’m sure both of us remember how badly the last time that I punished you in anger went.”

Harry shivered a little, partly from the memory and partly from the adrenaline still making his heart beat too fast for the sedate walk down the corridor. His shaky legs were particularly glad of the hand on his shoulder. “Dad, I don’t feel so good.”

Snape paused and frowned down at him. With a shock, Harry realised his father had cut his hair short, though for what reason he couldn’t fathom. He looked somewhat like what Harry had always imagined an army sergeant might look like; intimidating and stern. The frown didn’t help. “How many fingers am I holding up, Harry?”

“Two, but… Look, I’m OK, but I think I need to sit down soon.” Malfoy’s unconscious head lolled as if agreeing with him. “We ended up running a long way – in the dark – and I’m kinda, well, worn out.”

The frown didn’t go away but Snape nodded in reluctant acceptance and made sure they carried on their way at an even slower pace.

“So, what’re you doing here? Seeing as you asked me?” Harry asked.

Snape shot him a sidelong glance. “Spying, exploring, and hiding from miscreants made even more impertinent by the run-up to Christmas.”

Harry smiled weakly at the joke and wisely stayed silent.

Snape shrugged and carried on. “You know the Headmaster sent me. You know why. So far the mission has not been overly successful, but recently we discovered that the wizarding hospital, St Mungo’s,” he waved vaguely at the walls, “this place, has been abandoned by its staff. Black and I are currently searching it for booby-traps, other than the one that is conveniently keeping the Death Eaters out and fearful. We think it may be a good future stronghold for the Order. It certainly has enough safeguards and wards already in place.”

“Where is Sirius?”

Snape’s nose wrinkled. “He was irritating me, so I sent him to explore the upper floors while I searched the lower – fortunately,” he said, casting Harry another glance.

Harry hid a grin. “You do realise that sounds like you sent him to his room like a naughty child, don’t you? Has he really been that bad?”

His father glared. “Watch it, Potter, I certainly have the authority to send you to your room should you cheek me anymore. Besides, this mission is to be aborted. I refuse to put children – and especially you – in the path of any danger which may arise.” He stopped in the middle of what looked like a large waiting room. “I shall send for Black, and then we’re leaving.” He paused. “Do please try not to encourage the mutt; I’m still in the middle of training him out of bad behaviours.”

Harry chuckled and sat down on a nearby comfy seat as he watched Snape send off a silvery Patronus, which bounded through a nearby wall and out of sight.

“That was a doe. Why a doe? You know mine’s a stag, right? Or, well, it was last time I checked.”

Snape sighed and sat on the seat next to Harry’s. “Your mother’s was a doe,” he admitted reluctantly. “In rare cases, when people… care… for each other, their Patronus charms grow to match. Your mother was always more comfortable in her own skin than I, so mine was the one which changed.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. “Yours may well still be a stag because of that connection. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with any connection with Potter.”

Harry was stunned into silence for a little while, even then, all he could come up with was, “I’m sorry.”

Snape sighed again and looked up from the rug he’d been in a staring contest with. “Harry, she might have been my… love, but she was also your mother. There is no need to apologise. You lost her as well.”

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed down the stubborn lump in his throat. “Now more than ever, I wish she was still around. Which is stupid because I’ve got you now right? I shouldn’t be greedy.”

A wan smile played around Snape’s mouth. “I admit to sharing the sentiment. And it is not greedy, Harry, merely… human.”

Harry snorted. “No one would ever believe me if I told them you just said what you said. Not even Ron.”

The smile became real. “Then you had better not.”

“Dad…” The words were you ever a Death Eater? hovered on his tongue, but he couldn’t quite get them out.

Snape’s eyes shifted to the corridor, out of which sounded the pounding of four furry feet. “Ask me later, we have company.”

A somewhat matted mongrel bounded out of the corridor and bowled Harry off the chair. It seemed determined to wash out Harry’s ears while he squealed (he’d never admit to that) in horror.

Snape seized it by the scruff and hauled it off Harry. “Stop mauling my child, Black!”

Sirius morphed back, laughing. “Now, now, Snape. Cheer up; we don’t want you getting frown lines. Or rather, any more frown lines.”

Snape glared and shot a look at Harry which he chose to interpret as ‘you deal with him’ instead of ‘I want to beat him to death with a shovel and hide the body’ before turning and stalking off towards the nearest fireplace.

“So, Harry,” Sirius slung his arm around Harry’s shoulders, “what brings you to the wilds of London? I could tell you a story or two about this place that would make your hair raise, not that it needs it…”

His godfather’s heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders and the sight of his father waiting impatiently up ahead (Malfoy was still floating unconsciously next to him) finally banished the remains of the cold fear from his stomach, and he sighed in relief with the knowledge that he would be back in Hogwarts castle soon.

oooOOOooo

It was still many hours before he could get to bed; first he’d had to relay the whole tale to the best of his ability – accompanied by shocked gasps and horrified expressions from the Headmaster, Sirius, Remus and his father. Harry was certain he was grounded until old age from the look on Snape’s face. Then he’d had to go to the Hospital Wing for a full check over, followed by a trip to his father’s quarters and some extra, disgusting potions which the man insisted he needed, and Harry insisted he didn’t.

Needless to say, Snape won that argument.

Then he had to head back to the Tower to reassure a wide-awake Ron and Hermione as well as a sleepy Neville and Ginny, while the twins snickered in the background at his description of what a scaredy-cat Malfoy was. Even then he still had to calm his pets down. Apparently Salem had taken up residence upon Harry’s pillow and tried to bite anyone who came too close. Hedwig hadn’t been much better.

And after all that, Harry ended up still buzzing with adrenaline and unable to sleep, even long after everyone else’s breathing had evened out.

Sighing unhappily, he gathered up his pets, Invisibility Cloak and slippers and padded down to the dungeons, hoping to beg a free sleeping potion off his father. He was rather surprised to find a packing Remus in the middle of the living room and no sign of Snape.

“Hello, Harry.” The man’s smile was worn but genuine. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“How’d you guess?” Harry huffed, flopping down on a nearby chair and letting Salem thread through his fingers. Maybe he ought to have left a note to let someone know where he’d gone…

“After the day you’ve had? I’m hardly surprised. And besides,” the expression turned sympathetic, “it’s ok to not want to see what you think you will when you close your eyes.”

“Yeah.” The was silence aside from the ticking of the mantelpiece clock for several minutes. “Remus?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you do for the full moon? With the Polyjuice I mean.”

“That’s a question somewhat out of the blue, if you don’t mind me saying, Harry.”

He shrugged. “Well, I kind of am looking for something to distract me, so…” he trailed off until Hedwig pecked him affectionately on the ear. “Besides, I always wondered, but we haven’t had much chance to chat.”

Remus grimaced. “I am sorry for that. As to your question, I merely got Albus to fill in for me. It may not seem like it sometimes, but he can act along with the best of them.”

“Hmm.” Harry nodded vaguely, staring into the flames, wondering if he could just make out a fearsome snout between the logs. Remus’ hand on his shoulder shook him out of his stupor.

“Go to bed, Harry. You look ready to pass out. I’ll let Severus know you’re here when he returns from his meeting with the Headmaster. I’m sure if you haven’t fallen asleep by then, he can get something ready for you.”

“Hmm. May not be,” a yawn split his sentence in half, “necessary.”

Remus chuckled. “Go to bed. Sleep well.”

And surprisingly, Harry almost did.