Harry took a few minutes to file the forms requesting his long overdue leave before he and Ginny left to pick Lily and Tim up from school.

The healer set up an appointment for Tim the next day. First a general check up and then a session with a healer who worked with victims of the Cruciatus curse. Given the boy's age, it was highly likely that he'd suffered magical and mental damage.

"Can we do this, Ginny?" Harry asked her, as they prepared to Floo to the school.

Ginny smiled at Harry. Her bright, determined smile that made her look like her brother, George, "Of course we can." she said, taking his hand.

Tim was nervous all that evening. Harry understood, better than before, Tim's habit of creeping around. His flinch from a raised voice. The child was also no fool. He was well aware that Penny had been testing him. Harry heard him ask Lily if he'd passed.

After dinner, the four of them sat in the drawing room, as was Ginny and Harry's habit. Ginny and Lily were knitting. Looking a little bored, Tim sat down next to Lily and Ginny produced a second set of needles. Lily was patiently showing Tim how to cast on. Tim's fingers were actually quite nimble to the task.

Harry had his feet up on the coffee table and stack of parchments spread around him. From time to time, he looked up at Ginny, thinking how very beautiful she was and how very lucky he was.

"Tim?" said Ginny said, after a while. She kept her eyes on her knitting. This was a tactic Harry had seen her use many times with the children. She often found that they talked to her more easily about difficult things if their eyes and hands were occupied, "You've got an appointment with the healers, tomorrow afternoon, after I pick you up from school."

Tim stopped, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but then he nodded and went on with what he was doing.

Harry noticed him open and shut his mouth a couple times, before finally whispering to Lily.

"Mum?" Lily chirped, "Can I go with you?"

"If you like." replied Ginny serenely, "Bring a book, we might be a while so the healer can give Tim a good once over."

Tim whispered to Lily again. Lily turned to look at him in confusion, "What? What do you mean?"

"What is it Tim?" asked Ginny, never taking her eyes off her handwork.

"Will there be any needles?" asked Tim, just loud enough to be heard.

Ginny looked up at Harry, at a loss.

Harry just smiled at her, so she relaxed a little, "No, Tim. Wizards don't get shots. If a healer needs to get medicine into you that you can't swallow, they can just spell it into you."

"So that's something like those stitches Dad tried that time?" Ginny asked. There was a lot about the Muggle world Ginny didn't know, since Harry, unlike other Muggle-borns had never seen fit to retain ties to it.

Harry nodded, "A lot of Muggle potions can't work if you swallow them."

"So how do they get them into you?" asked Lily.

"They use a hollow needle to put it under your skin." replied Harry.

Lily wrinkled her nose, "Eeeeewwww."

Harry laughed and nodded, "I completely agree."

Not too long after, the children got ready for bed. Harry tucked Lily in, thinking that she wouldn't let him tuck her in much longer.

"Dad?" asked Lily, "Is Tim going to stay with us for a long time?"

"Yes, I think so. Why?" said Harry, concerned that perhaps Tim's constant attention was starting to wear on her.

She looked unwontedly serious, "Good. He's worried that we'll send him away. I told him we won't but..." she grimaced, "He says everyone gets tired of him."

Harry hugged Lily, "It's hard if you're muggleborn and your family doesn't understand. And Tim's mum's pretty ill." Harry hadn't come up with any better way of explaining muggle drug addiction to Lily.

"Is she going to die?" asked Lily wide eyed.

Harry sighed, "No, but she's too sick to look after Tim. And it's not something that's easy to get better from. Even if we had wizard healers looking after her, we couldn't fix it."

"Oh, that's so sad." said Lily.

Harry agreed with her and kissed her good night.

He peeked into Tim's room. Tim was curled up with a book under his covers. He gave Harry a long solemn look.

"Good night, Tim" said Harry, coming into the room.

"Good night, Mr. Potter." Tim said softly.

Harry reached over and tucked the blankets more firmly around him.

"When am I going to see my mum again?" Tim asked suddenly.

Harry stopped cold. He'd hoped this would come up later rather than sooner. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of Tim's bed, "Well...I don't know if you'll be seeing her any time soon. She's going to have to stay in hospital for a really long time and..."

"She doesn't want me back, does she?" Tim said, "It's okay." he shrugged, "She always said she was going to find some way to give me away."

Tim's blue eyes were flat. There was no trace of tears or anger in his voice. Harry found himself quite alarmed by it.

Harry's silence must have been take as confirmation, because Tim looked at him sharply, "So where're they going to send me now?" again that emotionless tone.

"Auntie Ginny and I thought you might like to stay with us." Harry said. He knew that Tim would be difficult to reassure, but he tried anyway, "You can stay with us for as long as you want."

Tim nodded, "I...yes. I mean, I'd like to stay with you..." Tim trailed off a little disconcerted. Harry heard the unspoken, "Until you get tired of me."

"You should snuggle down now." said Harry, "It's time for sleeping."

The boy nodded, already with sleepy eyes. Harry used his wand to turn the magically lit rock that they used as a light down. He headed back to the drawing room where Ginny was sitting on the settee, a glass of elf wine at her elbow.

Harry sat down next to her. She handed him a filled glass of wine, "Thanks, love." he said, putting his feet up.

There wasn't much conversation between them as they stared at the fire.

After a while, Harry woke up, by himself. Ginny had covered him with a blanket and the fire burned very low. He assumed she must have gone to bed when he nodded off.

"You're still asleep, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice said from somewhere.

Harry sat up and looked around. He was dreaming of being in his drawing room and Snape sat in the high backed armchair.

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" he asked.

Snape didn't look so good tonight. He had that tired, haunted air Harry remembered from Hogwarts, "Perhaps, Potter."

"So, why are you haunting me?" asked Harry. He was too mentally worn from his day to be anything but direct.

Snape's mouth quirked up at the corner, "I'm a little too solid to be a ghost, don't you think?" He was too. Rather than the transclucent silver of a ghost, Snape sat there in all his bat-like glory.

Harry sighed, wondering again what his subconcious was trying to tell him, "I suppose you're what happens when I'm under too much stress?"

Snape smirked, " Indeed. I may even be 'an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato.' " he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you planning to make a point?"

Snape's smirk became more of an amused smile, but there were shadows under the man's eyes and his cheekbones stood out harshly, "Can I get you something, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling the need to at least be polite.

At his words, a tea tray appeared on the coffee table between them and Snape helped himself the teapot, "Do you know what the worst part of my last year at Hogwarts was, Potter?" Snape asked him quietly after a moment.

"No." Harry could think of a great many things it could have been.

"I couldn't go down to Minerva's office anymore and tease her about Quidditch. Or share with her a cup of tea at the end of the day." Snape shuddered, "She could hardly look at me. She stayed to protect the students, but she never ever surrendered her authority." he sipped at his tea, before continuing thoughtfully, "I thought, when your mother died, my capacity to love others had died with her. That last year proved to me how wrong I was."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry confused.

"In the years I had worked with Minerva, I had grown to love her. She was a mentor to me when I started teaching, you know. She was rather like a kindly aunt, I think."

Harry smiled bitterly, "I wouldn't know about kindly aunts."

"No." agreed Snape, "But you had Minerva and Molly Weasley. At least something resembling a mother figure. Just imagine if Molly Weasley looked on you with fear and disgust "

"Minerva nearly passed out cold when she heard you'd killed Dumbledore."

"I knew I'd never make it out the War." Snape went on, "By the time the Dark Lord was ready to kill me, I was more than ready to be done with the whole thing."

Harry nodded, thinking once again that Snape was indeed the bravest man he ever knew.

"I suppose I really gave up when I learned what that bastard had planned for you. And the part I was to play."

"Voldemort?" asked Harry,

"Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. That strange experience he had when he had confronted Voldemort had given him some peace with Dumbledore's machinations, but it hadn't been nearly enough, "I spent at least two years in therapy over that."

"The dead don't do therapy," said Snape darkly.

"No, suppose not."

"It's interesting how we blind ourselves to things. I had never realized how much I had grown to depend on the friendship of my colleagues, until it was beyond reach." Snape said, "Since I was a child, I had worked to convince myself that I didn't need anyone else. Lily was the only one whom I could allow myself to really trust. I never considered that the loss of my fellow professor's esteem would cut me so deeply. Every other so-called friendship in my life was based on fear or ambition"

Harry nodded.

"Even as a child, I had decided it was to risky to trust, make myself vulnerable in anyway. One of the reasons for my skill at Occlumency, no doubt." Snape stood again, abruptly, "I must go Potter. You can expect to see me again. As you say, this will probably be a regular 'thing'"

Harry watched the man get up, rather than follow him about, Harry decided that the dream settee was quite comfortable and it was wisest to stay where he was (in fact, he wondered if he'd just start sleepingwalking and not be able to find his room).

Harry pulled the throw blanket up more securely around himself and drifted into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

It seemed that it was sometime later, Harry woke up to the sound of screaming