-Severus-

Severus sat at his place at the faculty table, idly pushing his food around his plate while listening to Minerva beside him talking about Harry's progress in Animagus Studies. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table as he listened and caught Harry's eye. He held his gaze for the briefest moment then turned back to his colleague. Harry had had an odd look—well, odd for Harry, anyway. Contemplative. As if he was trying to figure something out and didn't have quite enough cues yet.

Sunday night, when he had returned from the gathering with the Dark Lord, he had found a note on his mantel informing him that Harry was in the hospital wing recuperating from a shattered kneecap, the result of yet another Quidditch accident. As it was nearly midnight, he risked a visit, flooing directly to Poppy's office so he wouldn't be seen by any wayward students in the hallways. It was there that he learned that Harry, though sedated and under the influence of Skele-Gro when he was called, had convulsed in his sleep and could not be awoken.

The Dark Lord had been particularly angry that Hogwarts had proven impenetrable and had reacted negatively to Severus' claims that he himself could not breach the new wards. All of the Death Eaters with children at Hogwarts had suffered that night and each had been ordered to use their children as spies, to find a way to breach the security Albus Dumbledore had managed to achieve.

Severus had sat beside Harry's bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he lay with one arm thrown over his forehead and the other splayed out on his stomach. Albus found him there some time later and Severus didn't bother pretending that he wasn't watching Harry sleep.

/

29 October, 1996

Tuesday

Dear Harry:

Minerva sought me out soon after my return from my "outing" on Saturday to let me know of your Quidditch accident and assured me that Madam Pomfrey had taken care of your knee promptly and efficiently. In a way, it was fortunate that my calling came at the time it did, with you safely in bed and under Madam Pomfrey's care. The Headmaster informed me that he spent time at your bedside. I told him that you were now old enough to go without bed rails, and were in little danger of falling out of bed. It was then that I learned that your healing sleep was anything but restful. I am sorry that you had to suffer at all, even in your sleep, and wonder what, if anything, you recall. Unfortunately, I was delayed in getting to my off-site appointment as the Headmaster had called me into a special meeting with the school governors and some Ministry officials to discuss the efficacy of the new wards. Needless to say, I could hardly run from the meeting or disapparate on the spot and consequently was the last to arrive so the mark burned much longer than usual. I was saved from severe punishment only because the matter of Hogwarts' wards is much on the Dark Lord's mind of late.

You seemed to be walking with some difficulty coming into the Great Hall for dinner. It looked like Ms. Weasley was doing a fine job keeping her arm around your waist so you would not stumble and fall. I am sure it would have been a much more pleasurable experience for you had Mr. Thomas not been supporting you from the other side.

Speaking of Ms. Weasley, your last letter was indeed enlightening. Your description of your feelings regarding her may or may not indicate love. Many aspects sound remarkably like infatuation. The one person you do not consider (and in fact reject) telling is the one person you should consider—Ms. Weasley herself. Indeed, she may have similar feelings for you and find endearing the way you are always pushing your glasses up on your nose or half-scowling when you see one of the current members of HSSS walk by. End the misery, Harry, and find the time—and the opportunity—to have a private meeting with the young lady. While I give this advice to you to help you move this potential relationship along, I must also, in good conscience, advise you that you are only sixteen and that sixteen is far too young to be in love.

In answer to your question, yes, HSSS still exists. I cannot divulge the names of the members, as it is a secret society and one not officially recognized by Hogwarts. However, I will reveal that HSSS members have a secret hand signal they make when passing another HSSS member (past or present) in the hallway. Look for it and I am sure you'll be able to identify the members.

You asked about Tempest—she was a barn owl and quite an extraordinary creature. She was given to me by my mother when I was 11, just before I came to Hogwarts, and she stayed with me throughout my time at Hogwarts and through my years gaining my Potions Mastery. I brought her with me when I came to Hogwarts as a Professor. Sadly, she died a few years later. She was already a mature owl when my mother gave her to me, and she lived a long life. I have not had need of a personal owl since as I have a owlery full of them at my disposal. The name "Tempest" came from Shakespeare, of course, and was suggested by your mother. It occurs to me now that you may never have read Shakespeare—magical education in our country is sadly remiss in literary studies and you were only 11 when you came to Hogwarts, not old enough to have been introduced to the Bard in school. The play in question is "The Tempest" and it is one in which magic and spells appear. The complete works of William Shakespeare are found in the library here. Given your current situation with Ms. Weasley, please do not start with "Romeo and Juliet."

I simply cannot go on anymore with this silly farce about "Syb" and "Candy." It has been an enjoyable interchange but surely you understand that you have the upper hand here as I have "Syb" and you have "Candy." I will, however, gladly treat you to a round (or three) at the Hog's Head when you complete your Hogwarts education. I know the barman quite well there and while I cannot vouch for the cleanliness of the pint glasses, I tend not to worry too much about errant germs as the alcohol is of such a proof that lingering bacteria will not last long once the glass is filled. For the next two years, I prefer that you stick to butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks and an occasional shot of something stronger when you need bracing (administered by a responsible adult, of course). By the way, I am curious how you know about the Hog's Head to begin with—it certainly is not the kind of establishment that caters to the Hogwarts crowd. More importantly, how do you know about the upstairs rooms?

Since we are discussing, in essence, "Rites of Passage," please leave your first tattoo to me as well. If you are indeed desirous of having one—butterflies, dragons or ancient runes—when you finish your education at Hogwarts, I will accompany you to a reputable establishment of my choosing where you can make an appropriate, mature decision, look at a catalog of offerings and then leave without going under the needle, secure in your decision NOT to mar your body with an unnecessary brand.

Finally, I want to bring up something that concerns me, and in doing so, admit that the problem is in part of my doing. After two months of DADA classes, you are not progressing in non-verbal spells. Your aptitude in Defense is otherwise remarkable but your total inability to cast a spell non-verbally will not only bring your DADA marks down but will inhibit your progress in all of your classes. I have spoken with Minerva about this matter and she has suggested that from here forward, all spells learned or used in your Animagus Studies will be non-verbal. We are hoping that your desire to achieve the Animagus transformation will be sufficient motivation for you. In admitting my part in your lack of progress, I am not intentionally opening a door for you to place full blame on me. I admit only that the environment in which you must learn and demonstrate progress in Defense class is less than ideal and certainly does not motivate you to excel. If you truly wish to become an auror, you will need this skill. Perhaps we can find time over the Yule holiday to practice together.

Don't milk the bad knee for too long with Ms. Weasley. She's quite a smart girl and you would not want to fall lower in her estimation.

Regards,

Severus

/

For some reason, it had been a difficult letter to write. He had almost divulged that he had spent two hours at the boy's bedside, watching him sleep. Albus had sat with him for part of the time, watching silently with him, laying his unmarred left hand on Harry's head, then resting it on Severus' shoulder as he stood and left.

But in the end, he hadn't admitted it. Perhaps at a later time, in a weaker moment, he would.

Another letter from Harry with no mention of Draco Malfoy. Snape was smart enough to know that Malfoy was still heavy on the boy's mind but that he had learned that mention of him in his letters to Severus earned him a virtual slap on the wrist. So he'd simply stopped mentioning him. Severus would have to watch this closely.

He chuckled a moment thinking about the "secret sign" for the HSSS society. He'd was going to come up with some ridiculous signal and make sure Harry saw him using it.

-Harry-

It was Friday—the big night before the biggest game of the year.

Dean, Ginny and Demelza were all sitting together on a saggy couch, Ginny with her feet up in Dean's lap. They were talking through plays. Coote and Peakes had already gone to bed and Ron was pacing in front of the fire, talking to himself. Hermione stood up, pushed Ron into the chair she had vacated and force-fed him what appeared to be a calming potion. Harry then gave him the post-owl chess game and told him he'd darn well come up with a brilliant move because if he lost this game to Snape, Harry would accidentally show moving photos of Ron doing the hula hoop to their Defense class.

Needless to say, Ron was now studying the game as if his life depended on it. Which, in a way, it did.

Better get at it…

/

1 November, 1996

Friday

Dear Severus:

A lot has happened since I wrote the last letter. A lot of it is Quidditch-related, so you'll have to bear with me. I asked Dean to take Katie's place on our team. He accepted, of course, and is turning out to be a good choice, even though Seamus is now ticked off. Figures—I can't ever seem to make everyone happy at the same time. Ron is mad at Ginny too. We caught her snogging Dean and Ron gave her a piece of his mind. She wasn't having any of it, of course. As for me, I kept my mouth shut after she laid into Ron. As far as I can tell, Dean's not a great kisser so she's bound to get tired of him sooner or later. Besides, they can't be in love or anything. Sixteen is far too young to be in love! (And that's Dean—Ginny is only 15!)

Ron's a basket case about Quidditch. Practice hasn't gone very well for him. He seemed to do better when we had the fan club making up songs about him and dancing around naked. He keeps trying to quit—he's lost all his confidence. I'm telling you this now since you won't read this until after our game tomorrow so you can't give your Slytherins a heads up that we have a weak link (though if they don't know by now they're thicker even than they seem). If he really screws up at the game, I am definitely sneaking out with him to the Hog's Head so you'd better let your friend the barman be the "responsible adult" and give us a couple of bracing shots of the good stuff.

As for how I know about the Hog's Head—well, from Hermione of course. Really. But I DIDN'T know about the upstairs rooms. I was just making that up. Which makes me ask—how do YOU know?

Your owl Tempest sounds a lot like Hedwig. I sure hope I have her as long as you had Tempest. She's the first pet I ever had, and the first real gift too (that I remember anyway). Hagrid got her for me for my 11th birthday when he took me to Diagon Alley to get my supplies first year. Maybe I'll name my next pet after a Shakespeare play or a Beatles' song rather than from my History of Magic textbook. You know, Hedwig is the only interesting thing I ever got out of that book. It's about as dry as the bottom of Professor Trelawney's sherry glass.

Now…on to the tattoo issue. First of all, who's to say I don't already have a tattoo? Muggles get them all the time—the kind that just stay where they're put and don't change colors or move around your body. Professor Dumbledore once told me that he has a scar that looks like a map of the London Underground but a couple years ago I read in the Surrey Advertiser about a guy who had the map tattooed on his stomach upside down so he could consult it when he was on the tube without having to sit close to the map over the door.

Anyway, I never said I wanted a tattoo, did I? I mean, I've already got this ruddy scar, which is pretty much like having a big ugly lightning bolt tattooed on your forehead, isn't it? Of course, I COULD have the scar turned into something else—use the lightning bolt as part of the design, right? You know, it looks more like an "N" than anything else. N….N….N…. Further proof (as if you needed any more, really) that Voldemort went after the wrong baby and really meant to kill Neville!

OK—I just have to ask. You taught me the shaving charm, you offered to take me to get a tattoo and you're going to take me to the Hog's Head to have a drink when I graduate. I think you're missing one big "Rite of Passage" event, aren't you?

By the way, did you think that telling me that my Mom suggested Tempest's name counts for a story about my Mom as a reward for me keeping my cool in class on Monday? Surely you remember Monday—when you somehow managed to insinuate that I have a bed wetting problem? How you managed to convince your rather dense Slytherins that you have the house elves reporting to you about my bed sheets is beyond me. Please pay up in your next letter with two stories. And if you can make Aunt Petunia look bad in one of them, all the better.

I haven't had a chance to check out a Shakespeare play from the library yet, but I did mention it to Hermione. She practically launched herself on me and hugged me to death! I sure wish Ginny liked Shakespeare like Hermione apparently does. Anyway, she's not sure if I should start with a comedy or a tragedy. She suggested a play named "Othello" first, but then muttered something about Ginny and Dean and changed her mind and told me to read "The Taming of the Shrew." I think I'll wait for her to bring me the book—she told me she's going to have Ron read it too and then we can have a "book club" discussion. So thanks. Thanks a LOT. Did my mum make you read Shakespeare or did you do it on your own because you are cultured and intellectual?

By the way, I saw you make that sign at Draco when he walked by you while we were all outside in the hallway waiting to go into Defense class. Don't even try to make me believe that kissing your fingers then touching them to your forehead is a secret sign for your fictitious HSSS group. It rather looked like you were spitting gum into your hand then sticking it to your forehead. Besides, Draco Malfoy is not sexy. I mean, I don't THINK he's sexy. Not that I ever noticed. Or not. Maybe I should ask Ginny.

Well, Animagus Studies was sure a blast on Tuesday now that I have to do everything non-verbally. I understand your concern and I see how you think this will motivate me, but it was nothing but frustration. Even Minerva had a hard time with me. "Mr. Potter!" she kept saying. "This should not be that difficult! Think! Just think the spell with INTENT!" It reminded me of our Occlumency "lessons" last year. "Occlude your mind!" No one told me HOW to occlude and no one is telling me how to THINK a spell with INTENT.

Ron is trying to figure out the next chess move now. I had to give him something to do to distract him. He's so nervous about the game tomorrow that Hermione forced him to drink a calming draught. For Hermione, that's about the same as using illegal drugs. Anyway, he's muttering things like "Bloody brilliant!" and I don't know if he's talking about your move or our next move or about how Lavender Brown looks in those work-out clothes she and Parvati are wearing.

Do you think I talk about girls too much?

I went down to see Hagrid after dinner tonight. Hagrid had me bring Hedwig down to meet Mac and they seemed to get along just fine, though she nipped him a couple times when he got a bit affectionate with me. Mac's a serious owl and rather a loner, but I think he'll get along just fine with Hedwig. I think he just needs a friend to bring him out a bit.

I'll see you tomorrow at the big game. Hope you're bringing lots of hankies to hand out to your Slytherins afterward.

Regards,

Harry

/

Harry had a plan and that plan was to train Mac and give him to Severus for Christmas. Hagrid had already told Harry he could find a home for the little guy, and heartily approved of the plan to give him to Snape. Mac was an ordinary looking owl that would blend in almost anywhere. He was quiet, taciturn, observant. He'd be perfect for Severus and even if Snape claimed he didn't need an owl, it didn't mean he didn't want one.

He rolled up the parchment and got ready for bed. Tomorrow's game against the Slytherins was a big one, and he needed plenty of sleep. He also needed an extraordinary amount of luck to pull Ron out of his slump and get him up on his broom, guarding the goals, looking and feeling every bit like the fantastic Quidditch player he was.

It would take a miracle. A miracle….

Fortunately, Harry had one in his pocket.

-Severus-

Monday's 6th year Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Gryffindor and Slytherin had gone as poorly as could be expected given that Slytherin had suffered a defeat at Gryffindor's hands on Saturday. But this time, he couldn't even count on house solidarity to give some expected structure to the class. His class seemed annoyed with Draco who had not played in the game, for reasons not yet satisfactorily explained to Snape. On the Gryffindor side, it was obvious that Weasley and Granger were furious at each other, and Lavender Brown had abandoned her friend Parvati Patil and was practically sitting in Weasley's lap. Now there was a picture he didn't need to see or imagine ever again. Harry, for his part, was sitting with Granger instead of Weasley.

To shake things up a bit, Severus decided to teach a new offensive spell—a variant on the Confundus that had a short-term effect similar to Veritiserum. When used successfully, the caster could often get the attackee to truthfully answer several questions. The spell never lasted long. But it usually lasted long enough…

He started with Longbottom, calling him to the front while he explained the spell and its effect. With a quick flick of his wand he cast it, then quickly asked three questions, resulting in Longbottom revealing to all that he was wearing white y-fronts, that he had not, in fact, completed his homework and that he thought Ginny Weasley was the prettiest girl at Hogwarts. He then demonstrated the protective spell to counter the curse and called Harry to the front of class.

"Non-verbal only," he reminded the boy as he raised his wand to cast the Confundus variant.

Potter looked like he was about to be hit by a train.

/

5 November, 1996

Tuesday

Dear Harry:

First, let me congratulate you on your win on Saturday. I must say I was surprised at Weasley's performance. Are you sure he wasn't on mind-altering drugs? I am sure that Slytherin would have sailed to victory had we had our full team on hand but as it is you appear to have won fair and square (or so Madam Hooch assures me). Well played, Harry. I have seen very few people in my life as comfortable on a broom as you appear to be.

Pray tell me how Ms. Granger learned of the Hog's Head. Have you actually been into this establishment? The reason I know that there are rooms upstairs is that the Hog's Head is an Inn as well as a pub. While the owner does not publicize the availability of rooms, not a few regulars have used them when they imbibed too much and were incapable of apparating or flooing home. And before you go down that path, young man, I am neither a regular nor an over-indulger. Perhaps you imagine your mean old Defense professor as a lush?

And since you have brought it up yourself, I suppose it IS time for the "missing" Rite of Passage or, as you have undoubtedly guessed, the SEX TALK. My Muggle father, not known for his tact or his compassion, accomplished this rite by tossing me a box of condoms when I was 14 and saying "There. That should last you for a good while." By that time, of course, I'd been living in a dorm full of boys for several years and knew three different protection and contraception spells, though I'd had no chance to actually use them.

Allowing for the fact that Slytherins are likely two years ahead of Gryffindors in matters of the libido, you probably know—or have heard—those spells already. If ever there was a time for nonverbal spells, it is on the occasions when a protection or contraception spell is needed.

At sixteen, the mechanics of the sex act are also likely known to you. You have also covered basic anatomy with Madam Pomfrey in your wizarding health classes. You know about puberty—having gone through it yourself.

So what would the SEX TALK delivered by Severus Snape to one Harry Potter include if not anatomy, mechanics and proper protection?

I think, Harry, that you need more than the SEX TALK. You need to talk about sex with an adult. And as Minerva is your guardian, you should start with her.

Now that I've put you off that idea…

You brought the book club misery upon yourself by telling Ms. Granger of your desire to be introduced to Shakespeare. However, I agree with all her suggestions, for what you should read and NOT read. Please let me know how your first book club discussion goes and allow me the privilege of suggesting your next selection.

I do not know what signal you imagined you saw between myself and another member of HSSS, but I can assure you that whatever you saw was not what you thought it was. Me kissing my fingers? Now why would I do that?

On to the story about your mother you feel you deserve. I think adding a bit about Petunia is as good as telling two stories about your mother, so one it will be. This particular story is one that I have never repeated, and I expect you to keep it in the strictest confidence as well.

Your mother was two years younger than your Aunt Petunia. After our fourth year at Hogwarts, when we were 15, your mother asked me to kiss Petunia. It seemed that Petunia, at 17, had yet to have her first kiss and was most anxious to get that experience out of the way, even if it was with me. I think your mother truly wanted this experience for Petunia, who was not as smart or as pretty or as kind as her younger sister. When she made the request, I looked at her in horror. She thought, of course, that I was horrified at the thought of kissing Petunia. I was, but I was equally unsure how to tell her that I myself had not had a first kiss yet so how was I to teach Petunia? Lily, being Lily, somehow sensed the truth. "Oh, Sev," she said, laughing and leaning in just then to kiss me lightly on the lips. "Just kiss her. Don't think so much about it." Petunia was cold and awkward but cussedly determined. She wanted to practice on me, and instructed me to open my mouth, use my tongue. She licked my teeth. I practically threw up in her mouth. Needless to say, our already shaky relationship did not get any better after that.

Tell Mr. Weasley that I am on to him and my counter move shows it.

Regards,

Severus

/

Severus had taken it relatively easy on Harry with the Confundus truth spell. Three innocent questions, each one answered honestly. But each one answered in such a way that the rest of the class thought Harry had managed to throw the spell (wordlessly) and bend the truth in his answers.

Who was your first friend?

Hagrid.

Who is your favorite professor at Hogwarts?

You, sir.

What do you regret most in life?

That I didn't get to know you better sooner.

Harry had looked at him almost gratefully when it was over, before planting the dissatisfied scowl on his face. But for a moment, if only a moment, he'd been able to be honest about his relationship with Severus, just as Severus has intended.