Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, January 1997 (05)

After a quick, "Bye!" to Snape at the bottom of the staircase, Harry raced up the stairs, two at a time, until he reached the Fat Lady. Stepping inside, the common room appeared empty at first glance, but moving further in, he spotted Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Ginny clustered together in the corner by the window. They were all smiling, which Harry thought a good sign, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he heard from Ron that Percy was okay. Fang woofed, getting the group's attention.

"Harry!" Ron shot to his feet to greet the boy, but Hermione was faster, flying across the room to Harry as if she had sprouted wings.

Harry met her halfway. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. "Missed you."

"You'd better..."she whispered, then let him kiss her again. After a moment, Ron cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, making Harry laugh. He then gave a grunt of surprise when the redhead gripped him in a tight hug. Grinning at the uncharacteristic display of affection Harry thumped him on the back in response.

"Percy?" he said when Ron pulled back.

Ron scowled and flapped a hand in disgust. "That old fraud? He's fine! Bossin' everyone about, takin' advantage of his ‘injury' - which he got after tripping over his own two left feet trying to dodge a hex. Scrawny klutz! He's lucky I didn't hex him! I'm glad to be back just to get away from him!"

"Oh, Ron, he wasn't that bad," Ginny said, lips curled in a mischievous smirk as she scratched Fang's belly.

"That prat had me writing out his reports instead of charming the damn quill to do it for him! As much as he carps on about how my handwriting looks like a troll did it? He was just doin' it to get my goat!"

"Baaaaa!"

"Oh shut it, Harry!" Ron grumbled. He served up a half-hearted swing at the back of Harry's head, but Harry ducked, leaving him to collect a handful of air. On a wave of laughter, the redhead resumed his seat on the sofa, then wrapped an arm around Luna who looked, for lack of a better word, luminescent.

Dean joined them half an hour later and Ginny perched herself on his lap, laughing at something Neville said. Seamus wasn't long to follow after Dean, grumbling about Parvati never letting Padma out of her sight for longer than a minute when he was around. Eventually more students began pouring in, filling the common room with squealed greetings and excited exchanges of holiday details, but Harry and his group kept to themselves.

Before long, the hour tolled midnight. Seamus and Neville went up to their dorm; Dean escorted Ginny the short distance to the stairs leading to the girls' dorm; Harry and Hermione remained cuddled up on the sofa. They waved to Ron as he left to walk Luna to Ravenclaw. She was out past curfew, but having a boyfriend who was a Prefect had its advantages.

*WO

Greenhouse 3, Hogwarts, January 1997 (09)

When Snape showed up in Herbology on Thursday, Harry's heart danced a clumsy jig. With a nod at Professor Sprout, Snape gestured for Harry to follow him outside. 

"When Sprout dismisses class, go to the headmaster's office," Snape said.

"Was it approved?"

"It appears so, but I must go to the Ministry to finalize things."

"Alone? Don't I get to go?"

"No."

"But -"

"The headmaster is accompanying me."

"What? After all the -"

Snape held up a hand. "I do not wish to be late. I shouldn't be more than an hour." He turned to go, but something in Harry's expression compelled him to quickly run a hand over the boy's head. Harry closed his eyes at the touch. When he opened them, Snape was gone. Harry sighed. The wait was going to be murder, but he had been without a parent since he was a year old. How bad could one more hour be?

*WO

Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, January 1997 (09)

Two and half hours later, Harry's leg jounced about as if tethered to a mindless bit of invisible string. No more than five minutes after entering Dumbledore's office, he'd been impatient for Snape to return; five minutes beyond that, he had firecalled Aberforth, eager to share the news that Snape had gone to finalize the adoption. Unsurprisingly, the old wizard already knew; he had chuckled at Harry's peeved expression: "Why am I the last one to know?"

"Ah, Harry, Severus only just found out himself. He alerted me because he knew you'd call and he wanted to be sure that I was here."

"Oh," Harry said softly. When he asked Aberforth if he knew why the headmaster had decided to accompany Snape to the Ministry, the man said: "My brother and I had us a conversation."

"What'd you say to him?" Harry said, curious at what influence Aberforth could have over his elder brother.

Aberforth hesitated. "Albus is a great wizard, but he can rarely see beyond the strategic workings of his mind, especially where you're concerned."

"Well, yeah, but how did you con -"

Aberforth interrupted, saying, "Perhaps we should free up the fire in case Severus is trying to get through, eh?" He was right of course, but Harry sensed the man was being deliberately evasive. "Goodnight, lad."

"G'night."

Harry reluctantly backed out of the green flames, then stood and began to pace. Aberforth's reticence got him thinking about their conversation the night before he, Snape, and Draco left for the castle. The old wizard had asked him downstairs to the pub where he had set him up with a frosty butterbeer and a wooden bowl full of peanuts. He then poured a cup of tea for himself. In that instant, it struck Harry that in all the time he had spent in Aberforth's company he had never witnessed the man drink anything stronger than tea, despite being surrounded by liquor day in and day out. Even Snape took the occasional nip of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.

"Do you recall what I said to you the night Severus went to meet with my brother?" Aberforth had said, cutting into Harry's thoughts.

Harry crinkled his brow, thinking back to last August. "...That we're alike?"

"Yes," Aberforth said. "What I meant by that, Harry is that you love hard. So does Severus."

With his fist perched to toss a palmful of peanuts into his mouth, Harry froze.

"I tell you this because you worry overmuch about the Malfoy boy."

Harry blinked. Was he that transparent? When Draco arrived, Harry had had no desire to engage the boy and had exchanged only a handful of words with him; Draco had clearly felt the same, saying little or nothing to Harry. And though he was perfectly polite to Aberforth, it was clear he preferred Snape's company. His gray eyes trailed the man wherever he went and his body only seemed to become pliable when Snape talked to him; otherwise he sat stiff as board and just as silent.

Harry had found the boy's lack of complaint curious, but said nothing about it, chalking it up to the trauma of the rescue. Looking at the situation objectively - which was not easy - it was obvious that Malfoy was simply grateful to be alive and free of a wretched situation. Harry understood and he left the boy alone, but he could hardly deny the frustrating truth of Aberforth's words - particularly because Harry didn't trust Malfoy not to try to drive a wedge between him and Snape. Still, at Aberforth's expectant expression, he'd said: "I'll keep it in mind." Aberforth nodded and sipped at his tea.

"Sir? Did the professor ask you to be our witness for the adoption?"

Strangely, tension traveled through the old wizard, as if he had touched a live wire. He lowered his tea cup. "Yes, lad, he did, but I declined."

"What? Why?"

Aberforth smiled, a wooden, emotionless tic. He picked up his teacup again, but it shook terribly, sloshing the liquid about until it escaped over the cup's lip, scalding the old wizard's hand. He hissed and set the cup down with a clatter.

"Sir?" Concerned, Harry reached for Aberforth's hand, but the man waved him away.

"I would have done it if I could, Harry," he said, picking up a towel to dry his hand, "but those Ministry types, they don't take kindly to my sort, if you know what I mean."

Harry didn't, but he didn't dare grill the man about it. Aberforth wanted to be there. That was enough.

But now, three hours into waiting, Harry was overcome with a stab of loneliness, and a tinge of fear. Had something happened? As if reading Harry's thoughts, Fang rose from his spot near Dumbledore's desk. He padded over and placed his head on the boy's leg, stilling it. He looked up, those soulful, deep brown eyes, liquid with calm. Grateful, Harry leaned forward to lay his forehead against the dog's large, square one. Just as he closed his eyes, the fireplace blazed green and Snape materialized, stepping smoothly out of the flames. Harry jumped up. Fang barked, his tail whipping hard against Harry's leg.

"Well?" Harry said, but all he heard was a hollow echo: Well...well...well... His heartbeat pounding solidly in his ears enhanced the effect. "WELL!" He tried again.

"I heard you the first time," said Snape, quirking an eyebrow as he stepped forward. He held out a golden sheet of parchment.

Immobilized with disbelief, Harry could only stare at it. Then Fang sat down. Without the rhythmic thump of the dog's tail against his leg, Harry came to his senses. Hand trembling, he took the sheet from Snape and read the bold black script.

Ministry of Magic, London

Department of Family Services

Certificate of Adoption

Harry James Potter

Has been formally adopted

Into the Snape family by the Father

Severus Snape

And is entitled to all the rights and privileges thereto as his Child

On this 9th day of January 1997

As certified by

Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic

Witness

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

He reread it, marveling at the sight of his name coupled with Snape's. Father. Child. Still as stone he stared at it for several minutes until Snape touched him on the shoulder.

"Potter?"

Harry looked up, green eyes sparkling with wonder. "This is it?" He whispered. Snape nodded. "Oh, g-good." Harry chuckled with nervous relief.

Then with all the feathery lightness of a ten tonne weight, Uncertainty set in, pressing so heavily on Harry's heart he could scarcely catch his breath. It then took a moment - Uncertainty did - to coolly remind Harry he already had a father and a mother. They were long dead, yes, but Lily and James Potter did not cease being his parents any more than he ceased being their son - blood sanctioned that connection. Then Ron's voice chimed in, again questioning whether James and Lily would approve of Snape adopting Harry. Harry hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, but Ron's misgivings were nothing he'd not already considered. It was hardly a secret that Snape had not been on friendly terms with James and Lily at the time of their deaths - point of fact, he'd never been on friendly terms with James.

Latching onto that blatant bit of irony, Uncertainty went for the emotional jugular: This adoption dishonored Lily and James's memory, diminished their brave sacrifice; Harry had been too hasty, too eager - too damn desperate to belong to someone else; his parents had been taken from him, Sirius had been taken from him, and the Dursleys had been killed because of him - for all intents and purposes, he'd been on his own since the day Dumbledore left him on the Dursleys' stoop. So why now? Why Snape?

Why not Snape? Harry countered angrily. Other than his parents, Snape had done more for him than anyone.

But Uncertainty was on a roll. It reared up to needle Harry once again, but he had had enough. He gave it a swift kick in the arse, making room for a clear thought, the thought that being looked upon as someone's child, someone in the flesh - not a romanticized, secondhand account of his father's goodness or a fleeting, horrifying dream-snippet of his mother dying - made Harry feel special. Ever uncomfortable with the ‘special' label the wizarding world afforded him, he looked upon the specialness of being Snape's charge as different because he had a say in it; his distinctiveness in the wizarding world had been no more his choice than had having black, untidy hair.

"Potter?"

Still staring at the parchment, Harry stumbled back into the chair he had occupied earlier.

"Potter?" Snape repeated. He pulled up a chair to sit in front of Harry, knee to knee, then wrapped his hands around Harry's wrists, easing them down to rest on his legs.

"I don't know..." Harry whispered. "I don't know why I'm so scared about it all of a sudden."

"Yes you do," Snape said in that quiet tone that always made Harry want to confess his every fell deed. After a few breaths, he did.

"I feel like I'm... pissing on my parents' memory, like I'm denying them."

There! He'd said it. Admitted he was traitor to his own blood - a blood traitor in the worst sense because of his eagerness to belong to someone else.

Though most of the portraits would normally be napping at this hour, the unfolding drama was far too gripping to ignore. Dilys Derwent whipped out a lacy handkerchief from her ample bosom and noisily blew her nose; Phineas Nigellus Black tutted and stalked back and forth across his painting's background muttering about "Slytherins continuing to be corrupted by Gryffindor foolishness"; Armando Dippet simply nodded and winked approvingly, his ear horn angled intrusively toward the action.

At length Snape released Harry's wrists and leaned back in his chair. He shifted to take up his usual pose of contemplation: elegantly crossed legs, elbows at rest on the arms of the chair, long fingers tented beneath his chin. Minutes passed before he spoke. To Harry, he looked as if he wanted to say one thing, but settled on another.

"Potter, I knew Lily."

"I know."

"No, I knew her before coming to Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

"We were nine. I told her she was a witch..."

A broad grin spread across Harry's face as he pictured a nine year-old Snape and Lily, but it quickly flagged. "...That's why she was so mad at you that day by the lake," he said.

"Yes." Snape scrubbed a hand over his face. "That day was... an unfortunate bit of timing on both our parts. Me stumbling into your father and his cronies, and Lily - I couldn't have imagined a more mortifying predicament. I took it out on her. When I tried to apologize, she gave me rather an earful about friendship and how she could forgive what I said, but that we could never again be friends, at least not so long as I was meeting with Lucius Malfoy. I wasn't surprised that she knew. By that point, it was common knowledge, but I was hardly willing to give up what I thought was my ticket out of a world that didn't appreciate me and entrée into one that did." Snape sighed. He looked exhausted. "Our last conversation... she was angry. Her mother had shipped her grandmother off to a rest home. She died shortly after arriving. Lily was devastated. She told me, ‘when I have my own family, I'll die before I let anything separate us.'"

Harry's eyes pooled with tears. That he knew less about his parents than their childhood nemesis was not making him feel any better. With a long finger Snape tilted Harry's chin until their eyes met.

"Potter, Lily gave her life for you. Until you told me... I never knew that she placed herself between you and the Dark Lord."

"She didn't have to! He told her to -"

"You believe she made a choice?" Snape interrupted. Harry nodded. In counterpoint, Snape shook his head. "Impossible."

"What do you mean?" Harry ran his sleeve under his nose.

"Any parent worth their salt -" Snape fell silent a moment. "What I mean to say Potter, is that she was your mother, and after all these months... I can tell you that, for her, there was no choice. Not because the Dark Lord demanded it, but because she possessed a thing so powerful, that even after..." Snape closed his eyes and gripped his knees, "even after her death it repulsed the Killing Curse aimed at you."

"I know, ‘love.'" Harry rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

"Yes, and after having sacrificed herself that way, how could she ever begrudge you a place with someone who... who wishes to look after you? I daresay, even a stand-in would be preferable to you being alone."

"You're no stand-in!" Harry blurted, frowning at the man. Snape jerked as if goosed; his cheeks colored. "Well, you're not! That was the Dursleys! And they did a piss poor job at it, too!" Harry's hands shook, rattling the parchment as he gripped it tightly. "You don't think of yourself that way, do you? Do you?"

"I've never been one to live by presumption," Snape said quietly, "but, it does me well to hear you express your feelings on the matter."

Now it was Harry's turn to blush. Indicating the parchment he asked, "Where's the headmaster?"

"At the Hog's Head. He wanted to allow us some time together."

"Oh. Well, that was good of him."

"Yes, quite." Snape stood.

Harry joined him, cradling the adoption parchment to his chest. "Why'd he go with you instead of Aberforth?"

"You would have to ask them."

"I asked Aberforth the night before we left the pub. He said people at the Ministry didn't like him."

Snape growled softly. "Tiny-minded tyrants. They do have a certain aversion to him, yes."

"Why?"

"You would -"

"- have to ask him," Harry finished with a sly grin, then he looked at Snape, serious. "It's... it's ‘cause he drinks, or he used to, isn't it?"

Snape hesitated. "It's not my secret to tell... Come," he said before Harry could open his mouth. "Let's go home."

*WO

Greenhouse 3, Hogwarts, February 1997 (10)

Run-ins with disgruntled Slytherins increased two-fold after the adoption, but Snape, as Slytherin's Head (and Harry's official guardian) acted accordingly. Just as before the adoption, he doled out punishments fairly, but as the incidences increased, so did his creativity, especially as picking on Harry was not their only aim.

One week, a select number of Slytherin's upper forms skived off Potions in protest of Snape's ‘Gryffindor-loving attitude.' But by Monday of the following week, those who had participated in the ‘sit-out' were in attendance at every class. How Snape managed it was a mystery, but it was the truants' duties outside of class that made Harry chuckle: They had been charged with helping Charlie maintain the castle's composts, which involved shoveling and hauling Thestral droppings - without magic. They also had to help Professor Sprout muck out the greenhouses daily - without magic.

For two weeks, dinnertime heralded a group of filth-covered Slytherins dragging into the Great Hall to the loud hoots and catcalls of students who thought the ‘rebels' comeuppance long overdue. That the Slytherin Head had enforced said comeuppance made it all the more sweet.

But, as usual, one Slytherin in particular drew Ron's attention: Malfoy. How did he, Ron wondered aloud, manage to remain above the fray? The boy was close to Snape - always had been - so taking part in his Housemates' rabblerousing would not appeal to him, but how, after that rescue, was he able to continue living in Slytherin?

"They must know that he didn't want to take the Mark, that my brothers got him away before he could, right?"

"Dunno," Harry said with a careless shrug.

In truth, he had given little thought to Malfoy's plight in Slytherin since returning to the castle. He felt that if anyone could handle that lot, Malfoy, Slytherin's resident royalty, could. But not anymore. Ron was right. Malfoy was rarely surrounded by his full court anymore. Sure, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson still trailed him like puppies, but a shifting in that House's hierarchy was clear, one of the more notable changes being Gregory Goyle who traveled along the fringes now. His expression and actions were tentative as he divided his time between Draco's group and Malcolm Baddock's growing posse which included Vincent Crabbe, and possibly accounted for Goyle's difficulties in choosing a side.

"He hasn't had a thing to say to you, at all?" Ron said, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Who?"

"Malfoy, you dolt!"

Harry's upper lip curled. "Why should he?"

"You spent Christmas with the little git!"

"No, I didn't!" Harry clarified forcefully. "He came the day after." Harry glanced over at the blond boy who was pruning a cluster of belladonna with rather a lot of zeal. "I couldn't imagine him being there Christmas Day."

*WO

Tearing down the corridor to make it to Transfiguration on time, Harry skidded to a halt when someone called his name. Turning, he groaned to see the last person he wanted to set eyes on striding to catch up to him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I heard you and Weaselbe in Herbology. It wasn't my idea to wreck your holiday." Harry rolled his eyes and started away. Draco called after him. "If you think I wouldn't have rather spent Christmas anywhere else than with you, you're mad!"

"Whatever Malfoy, I'm late for class."

Draco stomped after Harry. "I don't know why I'm bothering! You're ridiculous!"

Harry stopped. "Me, ridiculous? Hark who's talking! He-who-has-nowhere-to-call-home!"

"Why you Half-blooded twat!" Draco cursed, then angled his wand at Harry's neck. Harry snorted softly, offering up a tiny provoking grin as he stepped in close, bringing his skin into contact with the tip of Draco's wand. Draco's eyes narrowed. "You think I won't do it?" he said. "You think just because you have a stupid sheet of parchment saying you're Snape's son that I won't hurt you? You think he won't see my side of things?"

Harry laughed, but it came out garbled when Draco jabbed his wand against his Adam's apple.

"Here, now!" McGonagall. The angry click-clack of her boot heels echoed along the corridor as she approached. "What's this about?"

"Potter, being his predictably bile-inducing self!" Draco sneered.

"Put that away, Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall barked, noting the red mark on Harry's neck. When Draco didn't move, she yanked his wrist down to his side. He flinched when she raised her wand, but she made only to dispatch her Patronus: a silvery-white unicorn. It quickly galloped down the corridor out of sight.

"I suppose dueling like common Muggle thugs in the corridor trumps getting to class on time?" she said.

"I was on my way when Malfoy stopped me," Harry said.

"I didn't force you to talk to me, you pea-brained Gryffindor!"

"Yeah, well some of us have manners, you sack of sh -"

"Stop this nonsense!" McGonagall cried. Harry and Draco were chest to chest, scuffling to gain the upper hand. McGonagall shot out her arm to haul Harry to her side; she shoved Draco back with the other.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled. He curled his arms protectively across his chest and cast Harry and McGonagall a rather profane look before turning his back on them.

Just then a silvery-white doe cantered down the corridor to stand before McGonagall. It spoke and Harry was struck dumb by the bizarreness of Snape's voice issuing from it.

"Professor, please excuse Potter from Transfiguration, to be made up in a detention at a later date. Kindly send both boys to my quarters, straight away." The doe faded from sight.

"Off with you, then," McGonagall said. "Potter, you and I shall discuss your detention after dinner, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said. With a dejected sigh, he turned to plod off toward the dungeons at Draco's heels.

Snape was waiting at the door when they arrived. "Sitting room," he said, lips thinned in aggravation.

Harry plopped down on the sofa. Draco followed suit at the opposite end, molding himself around the sofa's arm.

"The two of you at each other's throats is tiresome," Snape said. "I would have thought you'd learned a thing or two after the stay in Hogsmeade. Silly me. Dare I ask why you were arguing?"

Silent seconds ticked by as Draco sulked and Harry scowled.

Snape stepped around to sit on the coffee table, facing the boys. "One of you, tell me what happened."

Snape wasn't angry, Harry judged, but he was irritated and anger would be quick to follow if either he or Draco didn't speak up. Harry opened his mouth.

"I said some... inappropriate things," said Draco. Harry gaped, floored.

"Potter?" Snape's black eyes came to rest on him, expectant. Harry cast another disbelieving glance over at Draco; Snape cleared his throat.

"I might'a been a bit rude." Harry mumbled as though his jaw hurt. Draco snorted, but it was cut short by a look from Snape. Ha! Harry thought, then he coughed into his fist, except it sounded a lot like, "Jackass!" Crude and childish, perhaps, but, then he was Snape's child.

"Potter!" Snape growled.

Harry's lips curled into an annoyed pout. "Well, he irritates me!"

"Well..." Snape rocked back to eye them both imperiously. "Get over it! Half the wizarding world would sell their nuts to get hold of the both of you. You might - might - begin to consider a way to work together. If not, heed me when I say that one more incident like this, you'll be in detention together, everyday, for the rest of term!"

He stood and left the room, ignoring their slack-jawed expressions.

*WO

The Main Entrance Hall, Hogwarts, February 1997 (14)

Valentine's Day fell on a Friday, but on Monday, Professor Dumbledore declared a Hogsmeade weekend, "In honor of love in its many guises." He even canceled Friday's afternoon classes, announcing that there would be an informal gathering in the Great Hall once everyone had returned from the village.

"There will not be a feast," he said, with a cryptic smile, "but dinner will not be served as usual."

While everyone speculated wildly about what Dumbledore might have planned, Harry plotted ways to get Snape to let him make the trip to Hogsmeade. Reports of Muggles and wizards going missing in other parts of the country continued, but there had been no attacks or even rumors of ill-doings in the tiny village. But, of course, this was lost on Snape, as well as the fact that Dumbledore had continued to allow the trips. The man had firmly forbidden Harry to go when the first trip was made in October, and the same held in November. At the time, Ron had pointedly, and rather unkindly, mentioned that Snape had no right to forbid Harry to do anything, but Harry had relented anyway. He knew that Snape hadn't forbid him from going as punishment or as a show of control; he'd done it because he honestly worried about Harry, and Harry liked that.

Despite the opportunity to go and enjoy themselves, Ron and Hermione had chosen to remain at the castle to keep him company. Harry had been grateful at the time, but he refused to be the reason for them not going this weekend. As such, he filled the next three days with massive amounts of begging, toddler-like tantrums, and slick, guilt-inducing negotiating that would have made a Slytherin proud - it did in fact garner a raised, appraising black eyebrow.

Finally, irritated with Harry's commitment to annoy him to death, Snape caved, but he threw a Malfoy-sized spanner in the works: Harry could go, provided he traveled with a ‘mixed' group. Though he would have rather run starkers through Hogwarts' corridors than spend a forced afternoon with Malfoy, Harry feared Snape would use that as an excuse to confine him to the castle. As it was, the man watched him like a hawk all week, sniffing about for a hint of anything that could justify revoking his permission. Harry managed it all just fine, but on Thursday, Snape had had the evil gall to pair him with Draco in Potions. Luckily, Draco was just as crazed to get free of the castle as Harry because, thanks to Snape, he had not made the previous trips either. Thus it was in tacit agreement that the boys did their assignment as bid, incident-free.

When Friday rolled around, Snape had no excuse to keep either one from making the trip.

*WO

After lunch, Harry streaked off to the dungeons to grab his things. Back at the castle's entrance he paced, impatient for the others to come down. Snape, speaking with Charlie and McGonagall a ways up the corridor, begged off from them and approached Harry.

"How many are in your group?"

"Eight. Me, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Dean, and Seamus." Like an auctioneer, Harry rambled off the names quickly, as if Snape would somehow miss hearing ‘Malfoy.' The man hitched an eyebrow. Harry just managed not to roll his eyes. "Malfoy's welcome to join us, sir, but I doubt he'd only want Gryffindors for company."

"Invite another Slytherin."

Harry nearly strangled on a sharp inhale. "Who? None of ‘em can stand us! And the feeling's mutual!"

"Make an effort."

Harry grimaced and wondered why Snape didn't just ask him to jab himself in the eye with a red hot poker. When the man's eyebrow skyrocketed, Harry managed to ground out, "Yes, sir."

As he schemed for a way to enjoy Hogsmeade despite the presence of a few snotty Slytherins, Draco, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson came strolling up the corridor. Great, a bloody gang of them!

"Harry?" A mittened hand enveloped his and he turned to find Hermione, so well bundled up, the only things exposed were her eyes, nose, and rosy upper lip. "Professor." As Snape nodded a greeting, she regarded the approaching Slytherins curiously.

"Where's everyone else?" Harry asked.

"Neville's in the Owlery waiting on an owl from his grandmother. He should be along shortly. Ron and Luna are already outside with Ginny, Dean and Seamus, so we should go."

"All right... but I have to wait for Malfoy." Harry's tone suggested he'd rather feed a starving Thestral with his teeth.

"Professor," came Malfoy's cultured tenor.

"Draco." Snape nodded his approval at sight of the other Slytherins. They nodded back, each speaking a respectful greeting. "Be vigilant. All of you," he said, turning to include Harry and Hermione.

"Yes, sir," Draco and Harry said together. They looked at each other and scowled.

"Go," said Snape, looking both amused and deeply worried. "Harry..." he said softly.

"We'll be careful," Harry said, with a small, encouraging smile. He took Hermione's hand and they started for the entrance. Draco and the others fell into step several paces back.

"‘Bout time!" Ron said, once Harry and Hermione appeared. "It's cold enough to freeze Umbridge's tit -"

"Ron!" cried Hermione.

"Well, what took you lot so long? Dean, Ginny and Seamus got tired of waiting."

"The village will still be there, Ron. And if you're that cold, you should've come back inside!"

When Ron opened his mouth in rebuttal, Harry said, "Um, do you two mind?"

"Well done, Harry," said Luna, as Draco and the other Slytherins emerged.

"I don't suppose we need to stick together all the time, Potter... or at all," Draco said dismissively as he and his group continued down the steps.

"Fine..." said Harry, and the tension in his shoulders eased by half. Maybe this won't be so horrible after all, he thought, then Ron opened his mouth.

"What, now we have to spend the afternoon with this son-of-a-Death Eater?"

All the Slytherins, save Draco, paused to cast withering glances at the redhead.

"Blimey! Nothin' to say, Malfoy?" Ron continued. "Not so quick-witted without your murdering father or your uppity, soulless mother about to defend you, eh?"

Draco stopped, his body stiffening to the point he might well have been struck with Petrificus Totalus.

Blaise rounded on Ron, his caramel colored skin red with fury. "As always Weasley, your stunning lack of intellect rivals your repulsive family's lack of Sickles!"

"Sod off, Zabini! I wasn't even talking to you!" Ron whipped out his wand.

"Oy!" Harry yelled, grabbing Ron's arm. He threw up a hand up to ward off Blaise who had started back up the steps, his wand out as well. "Lay off!" Harry said to Ron.

"Why? Because Snape said so? He's not my guardian! I'll say what I like, to whomever I like, whenever I like!" He yelled that last bit at the Slytherins.

"Ronald, you're on your way to ruining a perfectly charming day, please don't," said Luna, coming to stand in front of him.

Ron inhaled sharply and looked down at her. "Me? Well, who bloody asked them to come in the first bloody place?"

"I did... sort of," Harry said, beginning to wonder if they would even make it to the gates.

"Keep a bloody lead on your mad dog, Potter!" Theo's deep voice rumbled out of his barrel chest.

"Piss off, Nott!" Harry snarled. "Look, why don't you all just go on? Just go!"

"Come on," Draco said quietly.

Harry waited until the Slytherins reached the bottom of the stairs. He exhaled and banged a fist lightly against Ron's chest. "Okay, mate?"

"‘M fine," Ron said, glaring at the departing Slytherins' backs, "but don't expect me to be nice to any of that lot." He sheathed his wand and Luna seized the opportunity to start down the steps, tugging the grumbling redhead after her.

Harry rubbed his forehead and sighed, wondering if the trip was going to be worth the grief. He didn't like Draco, never would, but he knew Ron's words must have burned like fire, especially in light of all that Lucius had done. In an effort to lighten the moment, Hermione took his arm and melded her body as close to his as their winter gear would allow. She gently kissed his lips, and said, "Today will be great, you'll see."

*WO

They caught up to Ron and Luna at the gate and the quartet zipped along the lane into Hogsmeade, eager to be out of the biting wind tunneling up the road. Just as they set foot onto the village's High Street, fat snowflakes began to fall fast and thick. Luna stopped and stuck out her tongue to catch some. When she began to spin around, arms wide, Ron laughed and caught her up in his arms to spin her around faster, making her squeal with delight.

On their way again, they passed by the Three Broomsticks. To Ron's chagrin, Harry was adamant about going to the Hog's Head. He wanted to see Aberforth, and was anxious to introduce his friends to the old wizard properly. Last year, when they had met at the pub for the nerve-wracking assembly for students interested in conducting covert Dark Arts training sessions right under Umbridge's nose, no one had been looking to cozy up to the weird barkeep, so Harry wanted them to meet the Aberforth he had come to know. Hermione and Luna agreed readily enough, but when Ron grumbled unhappily, Luna threw herself into his arms, kissing the breath out of him.

"Luna!" He gasped, once she broke off for air.

"Well, I had to put something in your mouth before you inserted your own foot, because while Madam Rosmerta is beautifully stacked, my breasts are lovely, too - as you well know!"

"Luna!" Ron growled, embarrassed, but his blue eyes danced delightedly as he took her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her.

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, and snorted with laughter. They were still laughing as they strolled past the post office and they nearly missed someone calling out to them.

"Neville!" Ron groaned.

"We forgot!" Hermione said, spinning to face the boy.

"It's quite all right. I didn't expect you to hang about forever." Neville puffed out white clouds of breath as he jogged to catch up. His eyes were bright and in good humor, flakes of snow catching in his long brown lashes. "I've got to stop in here." He indicated the post office. "Forgot part of my list, so I need an overnighter. Where're you lot headed?"

"Honeydukes, then the Hog's Head," said Harry.

"Right, then. I'll catch up to you in the sweetshop."

Harry and the others dashed across the street to enter Honeydukes. The shop's warmth and bright lights enveloped them, and the sweet, heady aroma of chocolate assaulted their senses immediately as it swirled thickly through the crowd of students sampling unique St. Valentine's Day offerings, as well as stocking up on old favorites.

"Bloody hell!" said Ron. He had picked up a heart-shaped chunk of chocolate that oddly matched the rhythm of his own heart. When his breathing accelerated in disbelief, the palm-sized chocolate treat did as well.

"Fascinating!" said Luna, pressing one small hand to Ron's chest and a finger over the candy heart.

"Oh!" said Hermione. "There're the Chocoballs I told Mum I'd get for her and Dad." She let go of Harry's hand to make her way over to the display against the far wall.

After a moment the heart lost its appeal and Ron set it down. Grasping Luna around the waist from behind, he said "Let's go get some fudge." He then gently marched her to the back of the shop leaving Harry alone.

Harry looked about for a bit, then spotted Hermione queuing up to pay for her purchase. She shot him a wink and a teasing smile. Harry grinned, overcome by the urge to go kiss her, but then a beefy Hufflepuff Harry didn't recognize approached her, blocking his view. ‘Lot's of blokes trying to chat her up...' Poor sap had obviously not received the memo. Harry chuckled and turned to glance out the shop window, wanting to check the snow's progress. He stiffened when he found his view obstructed by Malcolm Baddock.

"Here without your guard dog?" The hulking boy crooned.

Harry sighed. For days after the adoption Baddock had accosted him anytime he spotted him alone, a ritual encounter Harry failed to share with Snape. At first it had made him angry, but then he'd had to remind himself that though Baddock was enormous, he was only a fourth-year, thusly, Harry never drew his wand at these times. And as Baddock had been the instigator of the Slytherin ‘uprising', Harry felt he had already been duly punished after a fortnight of detentions with Charlie. He didn't see how having Snape punish the boy even more would improve the situation.

Unsurprisingly, that bit of grace didn't stop Baddock falling out of the shadows one evening as Harry was headed to the pitch for practice. The masochist in Harry made him curious if Baddock had added anything new to the repertoire of snarls, threats, and chest pokes. He had been surprised when the Slytherin had dispensed with the usual and had launched into a laughable tirade about the disgrace of the Slytherin Head playing ‘Daddy' to Gryffindor filth. As he raged, he was completely ignorant of the fact that ‘Daddy' had appeared right behind him, transporting a large, floating crate of potions supplies. When the boy started in on Harry's ‘dodgy' parentage (‘I heard your Mudblood mum was a whore for the Dark Lord!') Snape spoke:

"Mr. Baddock, either remove yourself from my sight this instant or I shall manage it for you - and make no mistake, my way shall be most unpleasant."

At Snape's first silky syllable, Baddock jumped. And then he did a sublimely unexpected thing: he wet his pants.

Harry's eyes grew big as he watched the liquid trickle down to darken the stone floor and form a pool around Baddock's large, flat feet. Harry tried to hold it in, really, but the sight of the big Slytherin's face screwed up like a naughty six year-old was too much and he burst into cackling laughter. It was a mix of genuine mirth and relief at Snape's handling of the situation, but a helpless anger colored it as well - Snape had adopted him; Slytherins really needed to get over it.

Now face to face with the hostile fourth-year and his cohort, Vincent Crabbe - looking only half as intimidating without Goyle stuck like a barnacle to his left side - Harry remained calm and alert, tracking their every move.

"What do you want, Baddock?" he said, aiming for an even tone. He was keen to enjoy the afternoon with his friends, not waste time scuffling with this brute, but that seemed less likely as Baddock edged in closer, his bulk making the cramped aisle feel as roomy as a cubby hole. He smiled - an unfortunate move that underscored his resemblance to a cursed gargoyle.

"Guess." He growled.

Harry couldn't resist. Feigning contemplation, he said, "Um...Clean trousers? ‘Cause as I recall, you made a right mess of an old pair."

"You dare! You Gryffindor -"

"Yes, yes, Gryffindor filth. Try one I haven't heard!"

"Harry? Is Luna -" Ron's lip curled at sight of the big Slytherins. He was taller than both boys, but Crabbe and Baddock together outweighed him by a man. "What in bloody hell d'you want?"

"This is nothin' to do with you, Weasley. Me and Potter are just havin' us a friendly confab, ain't that right?"

"You even think to hurt him, and I'll -" Ron began.

"Oh I wouldn't dream of layin' a finger on your precious Potter, Weasley. No, that's not for me to do, but someone will... and sooner than you think."

Uneasy with the boy's cryptic talk, Ron took a step forward. In a flash, Malcolm whipped out his wand; for the second time that day, Ron did the same.

"Piss off, Weasley!"

Again, Harry couldn't help himself; he snorted. "Interesting choice of words there, Baddock."

Already flushed with rage, Baddock's face turned an arresting shade of plum, then with a quickness belying his oafish size, his wand was at Harry's throat. It was at that exact moment that Draco happened by. Harry spotted him through the mountainous lumps of Crabbe and Baddock's shoulders. He hadn't even known Malfoy was in the shop.

Draco's gray eyes narrowed at the sight of the Gryffindor/Slytherin huddle. He focused on Ron, who had his wand pointed at Baddock's chest. That meant Baddock or Crabbe - or both - had drawn their wand. Draco drew his. Harry spared a second to panic, unsure of the boy's intention. Ron went rigid and Harry knew he was contemplating Malfoy's intent, too. Ron began to change his aim.

Draco caught Ron's eye. He motioned for him to be still. Ron frowned and opened his mouth. With a fierce shake of his head, Draco jammed a finger to his lips, demanding silence. Ron glared at Draco, but for a happy change, said nothing. Harry kept careful eye contact with Baddock, wanting him properly distracted from what was going on behind him. Then Draco fixed his wand on Crabbe and Baddock's broad backs. Harry heard Ron swallow in relief; he did the same. To Baddock, they probably looked scared, but Harry could have laughed, because once again the boy was unknowingly outflanked by a fellow.

"Get that wand away from my throat," he said.

"Or what, Potter? Your new dad's not here to protect you. Now we're even..."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Baddock stepped closer, so close Harry felt the boy's rank, heated puffs of breath on his forehead. "Did you never wonder who found you at your little summer hideaway? Did you never wonder what happened to those that did? I did. In fact, me and my family can hardly think of much else, ‘cause see, my father, he never came back from that trip. My mother, my brother, and me, we don't even have his body to bury!"

"Baddock, you're cracked," said Ron, his voice filled with wonder at the boy's increasingly hysterical tone. In the next instant Baddock flicked his wand back toward Ron, but with a slick quickness Harry couldn't help but admire, Draco moved.

"Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!"

With a snap, Baddock seized up and toppled backwards as his wand arced toward the ceiling; Harry quickly plucked it out of the air just as Draco sidestepped the heavy body as it fell. Mystified, Crabbe whipped around. He gawped at Draco as if he had materialized out of thin air.

"You hexed him! A Slytherin!" Crabbe grunted, horrified.

"Would you rather he ended up in Auror custody for cursing Potter?" Draco said.

"As if you care!" Crabbe said. "Soddin' blood traitor, you are! I thought Baddock was barkin' when he said you'd turned, but he was right, wasn't he? Been spying on us all this time, eh? For this?" He sneered and jerked his head at Harry. "Reckon I can figure you were to one to rat out my father!" When Draco paled, Crabbe leaned in close to him. "Everyone's gonna know what you did here and you'll get what's comin' to you... believe me. ...Oh, and that business with your mum? She deserved it! Every bad bit of it!" He then stepped over Baddock, and roughly elbowed past some gape-mouthed Ravenclaws to storm out of the shop.

In stunned silence Ron, Draco, and Harry watched him cross the street to the post office, nearly upending Neville as he blustered past. The boys turned to eye one another.

"What was that about, then?" Ron demanded of Draco, who was pale as milk, and just as expressionless. "You actually keen on makin' enemies of Slytherins?"

"Ron..." Harry said. He didn't understand Malfoy's motives or Crabbe's creepy comments any better than Ron did, but now was hardly the time to discuss it.

"Well, what's goin' on? Why're you all of a sudden trying to protect Harry?" Ron scowled.

"I didn't try anything, Weasley!" Draco snapped. "I know the obvious is often difficult for you to grasp, but I just quite successfully saved Potter's arse without any help from you!"

"I would have..."

"... succeeded in getting either yourself or your Gryffindor mascot there cursed, or worse!"

"Stuff it, Malfoy!" Harry snarled, clamping down on the urge to snatch the boy bald. That ‘mascot' bit was completely uncalled for and ‘saved' was a bit out of turn, too!

Hermione rounded the corner, a bag dangling from her arm. She startled at the sight of Malcolm lying prone. "You all okay?"

"We're fine," Ron said, eyeing Draco, his expression a mixed bag of confusion and blatant disbelief.

"Did you do this?" Hermione's worried eyes were on Harry.

"No... Malfoy," said Harry, his expression not unlike Ron's.

"Oh. Well... thank you, Malfoy." Hermione gave the Slytherin an appraising nod.

Draco blinked, taken aback by her sincere tone. "No need to get all sentimental, Granger." He drawled.

At the sound of a blunted tapping on the shop's large display window they all jumped. Draco and Ron jerked around, their wands at the ready, but they lowered them when they spotted Ginny. She had a huge grin on her face and was waving eagerly for them to come outside. At sight of their wands, she frowned, then mouthed, "Why so jumpy?"

With a shaky laugh of relief, Ron shook his head. He pocketed his wand and lifted his chin to her, indicating that they were on their way out. She nodded slowly, then turned back to Dean, Neville, and Seamus.

"Bloomin' idiot." Harry muttered as he navigated his way over Malcolm. He turned to Draco. "Um... you comin' with us?"

Draco regarded him warily. "Where are you going?"

"The Hog's Head," Harry said, and Draco's lip twitched with disdain. Harry cringed inwardly. He didn't really want the boy tagging along because he'd no idea if Draco, buoyed by the company of like-minded Slytherins, would mind his manners as he had during the holidays. Yet as he chewed things over, he suspected it might be best if they stuck together; Snape expected it and Harry knew they would need a similar tale to share with the man when they got back.

It took a moment, but Draco inclined his head, slightly. Like Harry, he saw the wisdom of them staying together, especially if any more bad Knuts like Baddock turned up.

The Gryffindors exited the store first, followed by Draco and Theo; Pansy and Blaise were the last to leave. They stepped out to the sound of Ginny laughing, a bright, uncomplicated tinkle cut short when the shop's large display window blew apart, coughing out missiles of glass, and raising horrified screeches from inside and outside the shop.

"Bloody hell, Zabini!" Seamus shrieked. "Why'd ya -"

"Seamus, get down!" Neville yelled.

As one, everyone collapsed to lie flat on the pavement. Arms tangled as they covered heads, and backs, voices screamed out names repeatedly in a horror-filled roll call.

It seemed an age, but no more than twenty seconds had passed since the attack began. Noting that glass had stopped raining down on them, Harry took advantage of what he hoped was a lull in the action; he raised his head to peer over Blaise's back. Four Death Eaters were positioned across the street just in front of the post office, their wands fixed on the small group. At the prompting of a tall, strapping Death Eater, one of his fellows, lithe and willowy, stepped out into the street, moving at a fast clip. The street was narrow; the Death Eater would be on them in a matter of seconds. Harry knew he had to act. Amidst the tangle of bodies, he quickly eased up to a squat, then using Blaise's back as a launch pad, he exploded to his feet.

"Harry! NO!" Hermione screamed. She rose up and clutched at his leg, desperate to pull him back down.

"Stay down!" Harry shouted. Quick as a viper, Theo pulled her flat and rolled, tucking the hysterical girl beneath him.

When the tall Death Eater, the apparent leader, signaled his comrades to fire, Harry made a fist. Out of nowhere, he had a clear vision, a memory of himself in the Paddock beside Soth-ince, Snape firing spells at him, expecting him to deflect them without fail. The man's instructions had been to focus, anticipate, then act, and it had worked beautifully, but that had been Snape, alone: these were four Death Eaters intent on doing grave harm to Harry and his friends.

With all four Death Eaters in his sights, he focused his energy and punched his right arm outward.

A thick pressure radiated so strongly, everyone groaned at the feel of it building up in their ears, making them pop. Then the pressure exploded outward to connect with the Death Eaters. Pained roars and moans erupted as they flew back through the air to connect hard with the pavement. Like penguins on ice, they skidded across the powdery crust of new snow, then slammed into the front of the post office's stone facade with an audible thud.

As the Death Eaters lay dazed, Harry took that time to assess the wide-eyed group staring up at him disbelievingly.

"Is everyone all right?" He yelled.

Shaky and hesitant, everyone began to rise and sort each other out, patting each other down, sweeping off glass in showers, muttering: "Ron, you have glass in your hair," "Seamus, your cheek is bleeding!" "Longbottom, please get off my foot!"

"My hand!" Pansy cried suddenly. Neville was beside her. Wordlessly, he took her hand in his, then slowly unfolded her fingers to expose her palm. A Sickle-sized sliver of glass had penetrated her green leather glove.

After yanking his gloves off with his teeth, Neville looked into her frightened blue eyes and said, "Take a breath."

"What are you doing?" she cried as Neville's fingers neared the glass. "Blaise!" she nearly screamed, trying to snatch her hand out of Neville's.

"Pansy!" Neville barked. "Take a breath, damn it!" Shocked into silence, she obeyed. Breathless, she watched as Neville gently eased the glass out, then slid her glove off to reveal a fairly shallow cut. He quickly pulled out his pocket square to wrap her around her palm.

"Sorry for being short," he said, offering up a crooked smile. Letting go of her hand he added, "That should be okay ‘til we get to the castle." Pansy stared at him, flabbergasted.

Meanwhile, Harry had pulled Hermione free of Theo's bear-like grip and was searching her face and body frantically for damage.

"I'm all right, Harry," she said. "Really, I-I'm all right." Harry clutched her to him, needing more than her word as proof.

"Harry -" Ron began. He looked deeply shaken.

"We have to get to the Hog's Head, Ron, to Aberforth so that -" Harry stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. Ron saw it too. His hand shot out to grab Pansy and Neville to yank them clear of the curse flying at them. In one fluid movement, Harry turned and pushed Hermione away from him into Dean's arms. Making a giant circular motion he conjured a shield, reminiscent of the one Dumbledore had used against Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium. Right on time the shield repelled the curse like water off a duck's back. The curse rebounded and struck the tall Death Eater and a fellow, knocking their masks askew. Hermione gasped loudly.

"I know hi -" She began, only to be interrupted by Harry shouting.

"RUN!"

Wasting no time for discussion, Ron snagged Luna and Pansy around their waists, practically hauling them up the street like sacks of potatoes. The others struggled after him, slipping and sliding on the snow in their haste to get clear of the madness. Having tried and failed to expand the shield to encompass more area, Harry now used both hands to brace it. He then spared a second to check how far everyone had progressed: Dean was dragging a screeching, struggling Hermione behind him while firing spells at the Death Eaters; Draco, shielding Ginny behind him, was firing off spells as well; he bellowed at her to run; she yelled, "Protego!" blocking a round of curses aimed at them.

The relentless volley of strikes to the shield made it difficult to hold and reverberated painfully along Harry's arms, but he managed to yell, "Oy!" at the Death Eaters. They left off firing at Draco and Ginny, and turned their attention to him. He hoped the shield held out until the others had at least made it round the corner, but he didn't know how much longer he could manage it. Snape's belief that he would be even more powerful than Voldemort or Dumbledore never seemed more silly and farfetched than at that moment, as Harry didn't feel the least bit powerful - he was too scared for that. He wanted desperately to go home, but he couldn't, not with all the screaming.

The terrible, frightened sounds coming from the shop pierced his heart. The Death Eaters were there for him, but that didn't mean they wouldn't kill anyone that got in their way. Again, he looked over at Draco and Ginny, hoping they had reached the safety of the corner, but they were battling a short, portly Death Eater who was cackling, delighted at his little game. Suddenly, Ron dashed back round the edge of the building and began to dart back and forth, throwing hex after hex with one hand, while gesticulating wildly with the other as he yelled at Ginny. Just then a spell connected and blew her knitted cap off her head. Momentarily stunned, she felt about her hair, then growled. Looking as if she was about to launch herself across the street at the short, fat Death Eater, Draco caught her up in his arms and began to drag her toward Ron, but she struggled, insanely desperate, to get away.

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Harry roared. "Take her and go!"

"What in bloody hell do you think I'm trying to do?" Draco yelled back.

"Malfoy, now!" Ron bellowed.

Draco cast Harry one last look before tossing Ginny over his shoulder and running. With oddly graceful stops and starts, he made his way to the side street where Ron took Ginny and enveloped her in a tight hug. Then they all three yelled at Harry: "Potter, come ON!" "Harry c'mon!"

Their shouts drew the fire of two of the Death Eaters. Draco battled back, his motions cool and exact; Ron jumped out beside him, his wand flashing back and forth.

"Harry!" Ron cried. "Now, mate! Run, now!"

Harry tossed the shield with a grunt and fled, zigzagging as best he could to avoid the spells being cast at his back. A wayward curse hit the building where Ron and Draco stood. Draco cried out when a bit of stone slashed his neck. Ron grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the line of fire. Draco choked and sputtered, batting at Ron's large hand. Ron quickly let go and Draco grasped his throat, red-faced and coughing. He looked up at Ron with gray, watery eyes and gave a sharp nod.

Just then, Harry raced round the corner. "You lot," he gasped, "go on! Get to the pub!"

"Are you mad?" Ron said. "I'm not leaving you! Come on!"

"Ron, please!" Harry said. "GO!" He pushed Ron in the chest, urging him up the street.

"Harry -" Ginny began.

Frustrated that they weren't listening to him and knowing that the Death Eaters would be there any second, Harry shoved them, as gently as he could, back toward the pub. The sight of the shocked, bug-eyed teens as they were forced back without being touched might have been comical were Death Eaters not literally steps away.

Theo, struggling with a screaming Hermione in the middle of the street, gawked in disbelief; Dean was running toward them, yelling for Ginny.

Poised some distance from the pub's entrance, Aberforth watched the chaos, but his stomach twisted when a lithe, shadowy shape emerged from the passageway alongside the building on Harry's right flank. Despite the snowfall, he could see something glinting coldly in its right hand as it positioned itself directly behind the boy.

Aberforth shouted, "Accio athame!" at the same time that Ron shouted, "Harry!"

A hate-filled shriek of frustration rent the air as the knife arced toward Aberforth's waiting hand. As soon as the obsidian handle made contact, he let it fly, impaling the blade deep into the cloaked figure's chest. Distracted by the action so close behind him, Harry collapsed, breathless after a spell hit his leg. The Death Eaters had arrived.

"HARRY!" Damning the snow and the mass of pain that was his left knee, Aberforth began to hobble toward the boy. He had his wand out slashing through the air at the three Death Eaters converging on Harry. Ron, Draco and Neville, all casting spells, raced to follow.

When Luna screamed Ron's name, Aberforth turned and cast a spell to freeze the boys, preventing them moving any closer. Just as he whipped back toward Harry, the boy croaked, "Protego!" blocking an incoming curse whizzing toward the old wizard's head.

"Harry, get up and get to the pub!" Aberforth yelled.

Harry had been trying to get to his feet, but his leg felt wrong, and it burned like fire when he shifted it the tiniest bit. Suddenly spent, he fell back, his breath pushed out in a pained grunt. He wanted to cry when he heard the brittle laugh of one of the Death Eaters as they advanced on him. Why hadn't he stayed at the castle like Snape wanted? All he could think now was how badly he wanted Snape to come get him.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sonic blast of wind and snow rocked the Death Eaters, flattening them against the pavement. Then a sound, like a whip, sliced through the air and someone - a Death Eater, Harry hoped - screamed. Though it hurt terribly to move, he angled his head in their direction, to see if they were out of commission or not. They were down, but not quite out.

The big one, the leader, had struggled to his knees. His mask was gone, ripped off by whatever spell had been used on him. Blood ran as he gingerly fingered his face, and Harry could see that he would be left with a remarkably gruesome zigzag of a scar running from his eyebrow to his chin. With his attention focused on something behind Harry, the man dipped his head in a slow, exacting nod. He then aimed the bottom of his wand, slashing it through the air at an angle, twice, making an ‘x.' Just as he made the last down stroke to complete the ‘x', a streak of green hit the pavement, but too late - he and his cronies had already Disapparated.

Harry shifted to look behind him. Squinting against the whiteout, he saw a tornadic swirl of black bearing down on him.

Snape. Dark-eyed demon. His black eyes burned a hole into the empty space where the Death Eaters had been. The sight of the livid man would have terrified most, but Harry burst into loud sobs of pain and relief. At the sound, Snape started to run.

"My leg, I think it's b-broken!" Harry gasped as Snape fell to his knees beside him. He wanted to staunch his tears, hating that he looked weak, but the pain was unbearable and Snape's naked expression made him feel small.

The man's dark eyes never left Harry's as he wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders to gather him close, gently moving him into a sitting position. He was particularly mindful not to agitate Harry's injured leg, but when he angled his wand over it, Harry gripped the man's hand and shoved it away.

"NO!" he cried. "Hurts!"

"I know," Snape said quietly, his face a blank mask of calm he didn't truly feel. Though he too ached to scream, he said, "Trust me."

Harry did. With everything he had, he trusted Snape. He hiccoughed. "O-okay." When Snape nodded, Harry grasped a handful of the man's robes, squinched his eyes shut, and pinched his lips together in anticipation.

Snape leaned to softly speak a mild pain-relieving charm into Harry's ear. The boy expelled a soft puff of air and then fell unconscious. A jagged pain danced around Snape's chest at the sight of Harry's head lolling about, as loose and lifeless as a ragdoll's, but he banished the morbid thoughts threatening to overwhelm him and quickly followed up the pain-relieving charm with a binding spell to splint Harry's leg. With a long finger, he gently wiped away Harry's tears which had mingled with the melting snow. Then he began to shake uncontrollably.

"Severus, we must get inside," said Aberforth, sharp blue eyes darting about, uneasy. The snow was falling even heavier, limiting visibility terribly. Spotting Ron, Draco, and Neville still frozen he ended the charm, then turned back to Snape. The man still hadn't moved save for the trembling.

"Let me help you."

"No!" Snape's voice cracked, tattered, and rough. "I've got him..."

Once Snape was up, he found himself flanked by Ron and Neville, each with their wands out. Aberforth limped over to the crumpled body of the Death Eater he felled. Levitating it before him, he trailed the others back to the pub. Hysterical crying peppered with shouting and foul language erupted as soon as he closed the door. He directed the body onto the floor near the bar. Neville and Dean stood in silent, wide-eyed contemplation; Draco, also silent, wandered over to the body.

"SILENCE!" Aberforth boomed. Mouths snapped shut quickly, encouraged by the old wizard's fierce expression. "Severus, we must get the children to the castle."

Having lain Harry on a long table in the middle of the pub, Snape stood stroking the boy's hair, seemingly intent on making every stray cowlick lie flat. He gave no indication he had heard Aberforth.

"Professor," said Draco. He put a hand on Snape's arm. "They'll come looking for Bellatrix."

Snape's eyes snapped to the boy's face. "What?"

Aberforth frowned and shuffled over to the body. He toed back the hood with his boot. Though it was already apparent by the abundance of long black hair that it was indeed Bellatrix Lestrange, he kicked off the mask. Her mad, violet eyes were frozen wide open in disbelief as blood bloomed across the front of her robes and trickled from her mouth. Snape blanched, but his eyes burned at the memory of his last encounter with the witch.

Aberforth conjured a dark blanket to drape over the corpse. At Harry's other side, Hermione sniffed, gripping his hand to her chest.

"I recognized one of them," she said. All eyes turned to look at her. "I met him last summer at university. His name is Billy." She fairly spat the name.

"Billy?" said Dean. "Wasn't the Auror that let Malfoy, er, Lucius escape from the Ministry named Billy? Billy...?"

"Loyd," Draco said flatly. Hermione looked at him and nodded.

"I dropped my book bag one day and he helped me pick everything up... I - I'd left a letter from Harry in it."

Ron groaned. "We were s'posed to burn those!"

Hermione's voice hitched. "I know, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it." She raised her head to look at Snape as fresh tears streamed down her face. "He must have taken it... I could never find it after that. They must have cast all manner of spells on it to discover where you were last summer... I'm sorry."

The muscles in Snape's jaw jumped, but he said nothing, simply directed his attention back to Harry.

"Well, there's nothing for it now," Ron said, moving to stand at Harry's feet. "How are we going to get back to the castle? We can't go back out there!" He jabbed a thumb at the door.

"Let me worry about that, Mr. Weasley," said Aberforth. "Is everyone accounted for?"

Ron looked about, lips moving as he silently totted up all the heads. "Everyone's here."

"Severus, we've not a moment to spare. We must go upstairs now."

Snape nodded jerkily and once again eased Harry into his arms. When Harry grimaced and moaned softly, Snape gathered him closer. Pressing his cheek to Harry's forehead he whispered: "You're all right, you're safe."

He looked up to find Ron gaping at him, but the teen quickly tempered his disbelieving expression then grasped Luna's hand allowing Snape to pass by behind Aberforth. The group then made its way up the rickety staircase to the end of the hall. A disjointed looking fireplace with an oil painting of a young girl above it morphed out of the wall's previously blank space.

"Ariana, I need passage for Severus and these children," Aberforth said.

The girl smiled sweetly, if rather vacantly, then the portrait swung open to reveal a black hole.

"Illuminata." Aberforth muttered. Torches whuffed into life, blazing brilliantly, lighting a long, dank tunnel. Snape stepped forward to go through, then stopped. He looked down at Harry's pale, drawn face and exhaled harshly. Aberforth gently dragged his knuckles across Snape's cheek, wanting the man to look at him. Snape did.

"I shouldn't have allowed it." He whispered so that only Aberforth could hear. "I should have refused him! This is my fault..."

"Do not think on it now, Severus. Go take care of him. I shall remain for only as long as it takes to speak with either Aurors or the Order, then I'll leave. I've a notion those monsters have only just begun their business here."

"Where?"

"I'll alert you once I'm settled." Snape opened his mouth to protest. "I shall be fine." Aberforth smiled softly, but his blue eyes twinkled with a chilling protectiveness. "We shall all be fine. Now, go!"

*WO

The Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, February 1997 (15)

Madam Pomfrey mended Harry's leg in a thrice, but demanded that he stay overnight. Harry was less than thrilled, but with Snape's approval, Pomfrey secreted a dose of a Sleeping Draught in the boy's pumpkin juice to quiet his protests.

Reluctant to leave him, Hermione slept curled up around his back; Ron slept in the chair Dumbledore charmed last summer at Harry's request; it morphed into Hagrid's oversized seat of choice, perfect for Ron's long, lanky frame. Harry had been stunned to wake and find that Draco had kipped on a nearby bed - until he recalled Crabbe's threat. Snape had sat awake all night in a seat near Harry's head, perfectly positioned to see anyone or anything entering the ward.

Harry woke only once, breathless from a nightmare of Baddock standing in the middle of Hogsmeade's High Street, his mouth open, a horrific gaping hole of evil as he pointed at Snape: "KILL HIM!" On his command four green streaks blasted Snape in the chest. "Dad!" Harry screamed as the dream-Snape dropped, wide-eyed, to his knees, his graceful hands clawing and scrabbling at his chest until he stilled and fell over. Mired in thigh-high drifts of snow, Harry struggled toward the man, desperate to touch him, to make him wake up, to make him breathe again. But soon he was being lifted up and out of that dream-Hell, the calming feel of long fingers raking through his hair soothing him, along with the soft, melodic murmurings in his ear that he was safe, safe, safe.

Before releasing Harry the next morning, Madam Pomfrey looked him over. As she poked and prodded him, he took in the tired, but laughing faces of everyone surrounding him: Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ginny. Draco, with a small bandage on his neck, stood stiffly off to the side, looking back and forth between the cheerful group and Snape, who was speaking quietly with Dumbledore.

Back in his quarters, Snape informed Harry that Aberforth had reached a safe place and that he sent his love. Harry had flushed at Aberforth's sentiment, but he had also heaved a great sigh of relief that the old man was out of danger. According to the Prophet a great number of shop owners had followed Abeforth's example and boarded up their businesses before fleeing the village. Hogsmeade became a relative ghost town.

Likewise, a grim pall settled upon Britain like a weighted, immovable curtain as Voldemort and his camp began their run on the country. For Muggles and wizards alike, life became as treacherous as a stroll through a minefield.

But within the safety of Hogwarts' walls, Harry was happy. He was in love, he was surrounded by good friends, and he had Snape. But soon, he would curse himself for so freely and so fully enmeshing himself in that contentment. He would soon curse the life he had come to know and love, and he would damn the man responsible. A devastating deceit committed to memory long ago in the dark of night would bring a bitter longing for the dark days of fifth-year Occlumency lessons when Harry ate, slept, and breathed a deep, burning hatred for Severus Snape.