Within a few days things returned to some semblance of normal within the Snape household. Everyone was back in their classes, teaching and learning. Severus seemed none the worse for wear and in fact, he seemed better than ever.

Harry had friends again. After all, he'd gotten to see what happened in the Great hall and the fight between the the teachers had occurred before his very eyes. He was interesting again and this time he was determined to not mess things up.

After all, it was better to stay in the dormitory than in the icy family quarters. Bellatrix did nothing but study Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. She rarely left her office and never ate in the Great Hall. The worst part, at least to her friends and family, was that she wouldn't look them in the eye or talk to them.

Andromeda came to the school twice. The second time she'd left smelling slightly of rotten fruit and with a beautiful black eye. She hadn't come back. A letter had been sent to the Hospital wing advising Bellatrix to seek some kind of grief counselling, but nothing happened.

When classes finally ended for the week, Harry returned to the Ravenclaw dormitories and went straight to sleep. The week had utterly exhausted him and he didn't want to think about all of the homework he needed to get caught up on. He hadn't really paid attention for weeks and now they needed a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Harry slept in through breakfast and woke up at half past ten. He laid in bed for several minutes, allowing himself to enjoy the quiet and relaxation. When he'd imagined sleeping in the dormitories during the weekend, it had always been because there was a screaming baby in the Snape quarters.

That would never happen now. Bellatrix could never conceive again. And as a pureblood she would be unlikely to go with a public adoption of a child who wasn't of pure blood. Harry Black was supposedly born pure and it was becoming nearly impossible to find any children to bring into their family.

Christmas holidays were much closer than they had originally seemed to be, and he'd have no choice but to spend hours in the frigid environment of home. It would almost be better to be in the empty Ravenclaw rooms. But no one was staying. The stories of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named appearing at the school and the fiasco with all the teachers had scared many parents. And only three students were staying for the winter break.

Finally the appeal of staying in bed disappeared, replaced with an urgent need to use the bathroom and get something to eat. Harry sat up and swung his legs out of bed, stuffing his feet into his slippers before standing up.

The room was unusually cold, as if winter had finally arrived. Harry made his way to the end of the room, peering out the window. The grounds were white, not with snow. But there was definitely a good layer of frost over everything. In the distance he could see Hagrid, or at least a large figure making their way about the grounds in a heavy coat.

Harry sighed and hurried to shower and dress before heading down to the kitchens. The house elves weren't busy. The breakfast dishes were being done, lunch was started and a few were doing the laundry, but it seemed quiet and empty. Harry begged some fruit from the elves and left, wanting, for once, to find some happy people to spend his time with.

He made his way to the library, intent on studying a bit for the tests they were suppose to have before the break. Of course with some many teachers gone, it might not happen until new professors could be found. Or maybe Dumbledore would just cancel classes all together. He had done that before apparently.

Harry got out some books on Transfiguration, intending to get the easy work done first, and found a table near the back of the library where he wouldn't be disturbed.

“That's him.”

“Really? No, it can't be.”

That was how the whispers started. Menial, useless words that could have been applied to anyone. Harry looked up and glanced around him, but he was still alone, no one else close enough for him to hear them whispering.

“I heard he's as dark as they come.”

“Well just look at his parents.”

“The apple never falls far from the tree.”

Once again Harry looked around. But then again, plenty of students might be accused of being dark and plenty of parents had darker pasts. After all, the students in Hogwarts now were all born or very young during the Voldemort War, as it was often called now.

“I heard Andrew say that he has a mark on his arm. Just like HE gave to his followers.”

Harry was puzzled now. Andrew McKay was a second year Ravenclaw. One who was always frowning at him and complaining about all the first years in general. Most of them had come to hate him and disregarded anything he'd said.

The moment the whispers began again, he got up and looked behind the nearest shelf. Sure enough, the five crouching there jumped in shock and went running off. They were all first years, most from Hufflepuff, but Harry thought one of them might have been a Gryffindor. He wasn't sure.

He threw his books down and left the library. It was impossible to get anything done.

Walking through the halls wasn't even easy any more. So many owls were flying around and not simply waiting for the morning mail delivery. There were letters from worried parents, and scores of letters from potential applicants for the teaching positions now open.

Harry was so intent on walking nowhere that he accidentally walked into the mudblood Granger who'd been so arrogant and bothersome at the pureblood – muggleborn alliance meetings. She dropped her armload of books and the seams of her bag burst open from the point where he'd bumped up against her.

Hermione glared at him for a moment. “Watch where you're going!”

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going.” Harry found himself snapped back to reality and he remembered his plans to have friends and be less of the Social Outcast he'd been before. And here was another bridge to mend.

“That much was obvious.” Hermione began to stack her books again, making them into a pile that could be carried, although not without much difficulty.

Harry bit his lip and looked at his feet for a moment before speaking again. “Look Granger, Hermione, I'm really sorry about all the things I've said. It wasn't right. You're smart and nice and at Hogwarts those types of people seem to be in short supply. Plus, I don't mind spending time with you.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don't know if I can forgive you quite yet. But tonight's another time and we have pureblood – muggleborn alliance meetings every Saturday. We can give things a second chance then.”

“Fine.” It wasn't the answer Harry wanted, but it was a start. “Did you write that essay that Dad, I mean, Professor Snape, wanted us to write? The one on our childhood?”

Hermione nodded. “Mine was a bit longer than he originally asked for. Do you think he'll mind?”

Harry shook his head. “Can I help you carry your books?” He motioned at her large pile.

“No. I'm not sure if I've forgiven you yet.” Hermione finished stacking her books.

“I guess I'll just see you tonight then.” Harry sighed.

“Tonight.” Hermione picked up her books and began to stagger in the general direction of the library.

Harry, now that he actually had something to do, hurried back to his dormitory. The riddle was one he'd heard before, (What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at midday and three in the evening?) and he had actually been able to get in on his own for once. He rushed up the stairs and into the empty first year boys dorm.

Only it wasn't empty. Stephen Cornfoot was pawing through his trunk, trying to find something in the disorganized mess that he left his things in. Every few moments he'd groan or make some other noise of disgust and frustration. Harry crossed the floor quickly, making up his mind to get quill, ink and parchment and then write his essay in the common room, but Stephen stopped searching and he could feel the other boy's eyes on his back, staring endlessly into him. It was disturbing.

Grabbing his book bag, he knew it had everything he needed in it, Harry slung it over his shoulder and turned back to Stephen. “You want something? I could take a picture, maybe then you wouldn't have to stare too much.”

Stephen made another noise of disgust. “You disgust me Black.” He snapped, trying to scowl at Harry. But being only eleven years old and lacking the practice of scowling, it wasn't very effective. And Harry was use to Snape scowls and glares, which were much more intimidating than anything Stephen could muster up. Everything else paled in comparison to Snape anger, at least it did for him.

“Sorry.” He muttered as he walked past Stephen. He wasn't quite sure if the other boy had heard him, but it was a start. And everyone had to start somewhere. Even if the message didn't get across.

Harry had made is into the common room and was taking out his supplies and running through his memories for events to write about when Stephen appeared at the bottom of the staircase leading up, in his hand was a short piece of parchment.

“You want something?” Harry asked, not looking forward to what he expected would be a rude conversation followed by a muggle fist fight or a hexing of Stephen, performed by him. On the other hand he might even be able to do it with great joy, not the argument or the fist fight, but the hexing. “Or have you just come to stare again?”

Stephen walked into the common room put his piece of paper down on the table across from Harry. “Look, I don't really like you. I don't like the way you treat me or the things that you say to Hermione and I.”

Harry shrugged. “I'll try to remember that. I'm sorry. You want something? Because that was all the apology your getting.”

Stephen bit his lip. “I need help. The essay we're suppose to write for the alliance thing. . . I can't think of what to write.”

Harry took what he'd written so far and looked at it. The words were scribbled and it was obvious that Stephen still hadn't quite managed to grasp the art of writing will a quill as there were many ink splotches on the page and some of the ink had faded or been rubbed off in places were it hadn't been properly set. The content wasn't the best either.

Stephen Cornfoot

Muggle Childhood

I grew up in a Muggle household with three older sisters and one younger brother. No one else was a wizard. We did have five cats and a few snakes in a terrarium, but no one was a wizard.

One of my sisters is a doctor. She lives at home. Another one is in training to become an accountant. She lives at home too. The other one, Adrianna, is writing her “A” levels next year. A levels are things muggles write to get good jobs and advance themselves in the world.

I'm really glad that wizards don't have to write A levels.

Harry frowned. The essay didn't really seem to cover anything it was suppose to. It was also almost two rolls of parchment short. And it was only suppose to be two rolls of parchment long.

“I can see where you need help.”

Stephen nodded glumly. “Can you help me? There's just so much to write. I wasn't sure what to put down. And it's easier to write about other people, so I wrote about my sisters.” He looked at Harry imploringly, as it his face held the secrets of the Universe, or at least what was suppose to go in the essay.

By 4:20, both Harry and Stephen had passable essays. They were a bit short, so they'd made point form notes about other important events. With ten minutes to spare they cleaned up and changed into neat clothing. Harry smoothed back his hair and put on his deep blue Ravenclaw dress robes.

Stephen put on his muggle fancy dress clothes and the two boys barely remembered to grab their book bags as they ran out the door and made straight for the dungeons, taking care not to trip on any of the staircases or rugs.

They hadn't quite made it to the Snape quarters when they run into, literally, Professor Dumbledore with a wrinkled old women and a handsome, young man.

Dumbledore almost fell over. Harry crashed to the ground near the old wizard's feet and decided to be nice about the whole thing. See if that got him anywhere. “I'm sorry sir. I shouldn't have been running.” He stood up and dusted himself off, helping Stephen clean the dust of his back to.

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye. One that usually wasn't there when he was speaking to Harry. “No worries Harry. After all, no harm done. I was just showing around Professors Phyor and Tuolor. They're considering taking positions here at Hogwarts.” He nodded at the two adults.

Harry started to back away. “Very good sir. You'll have to excuse us. Stephen and I are running late.” The two boys took off at a run again. Why is it that I can always remember to call Stephen by his first name, but I always want to call Hermione by her last name? It's kind of weird.

Draco, Hermione and Severus were waiting in the living room for them. They hadn't taken their seats at the table yet. That would be taken as an insult in pureblood culture. Making your host wait for you to eat was very bad form, and waiting away from the table for the worst as you showed your guests that they made you wait to eat, appearing to absorbed in some other activity was the proper way to spend time in this case.

“Hey Hermione, Draco.” Stephen put down his book bag. “I'll just go wash my hands Professor Snape.” He hurried to the bathroom and Harry heard the water running.

Severus glanced at Harry as he put his bag down and took a seat in his usual chair. “Hello Hermione, Draco.” Yes! I remembered not to call her Granger! “I trust your week has been a pleasant one?”

Draco smiled thinly. “How kind of you to ask, I have certainly enjoyed the past few days.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That I don't understand. Muggles do have a similar ritual, but it's a lot shorter and-”

“Much more coarse. There is no respect or dignity in asking, what's up? Or what's new?” Draco looked at her. “Still, I'd imagine it would be odd adjusting to a new greeting. Hello instead of hey or hi and all that.”

Hermione just shook her head. “You do know that muggles are very brief, right? That's certainly one thing wizards could learn from them. It shouldn't take five minutes to greet someone.”

“Wizards live much longer. There is no reason to rush about in your life.” Draco responded.

Harry glanced at his two classmates and then at his father. To him it seemed like they were just arguing for the sake of arguing and his father had never stood for such behaviour before. But he missed the light in Hermione's eyes and the slight smile in Draco's face. They were enjoying their talk, and it wasn't a fight. Just a discussion.

Hermione chuckled. “Don't kid yourselves. Wizards don't live that much longer. Maybe five years or so. But muggles can easily live to 85 or 90 years old too.

“If they can escape the car accidents, diseases, natural disasters and crime that seem to plague them. And wizards live an awful lot longer than muggles. Right professor?” Draco looked to Snape, hoping for some disreputably back up.

Severus took that moment to stand up and motion towards the dining table. “I believe it is time for us to eat. And Miss Granger, wizards and witches tend to live anywhere from ten to fifty years longer than muggles. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall would both be long dead if it weren't for the magic surging through their veins.”

The four students and two adults took their places at the table. Bellatrix looked rather ragged and dirty compared to her usual appearance. Her hair was unkempt and tangled and it looked as if she hadn't changed her robes in a few days. But she was quiet and even Stephen managed to relax when she wasn't trying to carve holes in him with her eyes.

About half way through the meal Bellatrix left, running from the room into the one she shared with Severus.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Snape got up and followed his wife quickly into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind himself.

It was silent at the table. No one dared say a word. Harry and Hermione were gazing at the door. Harry with worry and Hermione with curiosity and interest, as if a dragon might burst out at any second and she wanted to see it. Soon the four could hear soft murmurs coming from inside the room. They were too quiet and Severus had to speak over Bellatrix's sobs.

“I had an idea for our chapter.” Harry began timidly. “I thought we could maybe divide into sections based on age and then have two columns on each page. One for wizards and one for muggles. That way it would be easier to find topics that you needed. I also found some lists of fairy tales and storybooks for children that muggles might not be familiar with.”

Hermione nodded. “That's a good point. I read a few books in the library, ones that were titles of fairy tales I recognised. They weren't the ones I remembered my parents telling me. There was a lot more magic and had mentions of different historical and fictional figures.”

Soon all four of them were speaking enthusiastically about books they'd read as children and the differences in the tales that they shared. Stephen could get his head around the idea that Little Red Riding Hood wore robes under her cape and that the wolf was actually an animagus with slightly more wolfish features.

Draco and Harry hadn't heard Puss in Boots before and enjoyed the imaginary image of Professor McGonagall changing into her animagus form and prancing about like a human. It would sort of defeat the purpose of changing into an animal.

By the time Severus emerged from the bedroom, the four had finished eating and the house elves had cleared the table. He took a seat with them but didn't interrupt. They were getting somewhere as a group. And considering that some groups were still arguing over topics, he was proud. And very relieved that they weren't expecting him to do all the work.

An hour later the house elves sent in dessert and hot chocolate for six people. Severus got up and knocked softly on the door, whispering to Bellatrix that there was dessert for her, if she wanted any, before going back to the ground and showing them a few spells that weren't taught at Hogwarts. One was for formatting essays and books and the other was for copying text. Teachers were always worried that it would be used for cheating. But it was wonderful for sharing the information that they found and making prototypes of their chapter sections.

Soon after they stopped experimenting with spells and went back to talking and taking notes on each other's childhoods, the bedroom door opened and Bellatrix slipped out, much changed from dinner.

Her robes weren't black, but a deep green that didn't make her look so ghastly pale. Her black hair had been brushed and pulled back and pinned to her head in a twist that might have been fashionable fifteen years ago. And there was a ghost of a smile on her face. “Severus.” She took the only seat left open. “Would you mind passing me one of the cups?”

Severus gave her a cup of hot chocolate and then held her free hand with his. He watched the students in front of him hard at work and smiled slightly at his wife. There was still a long way to go, but things were starting to look up.