Harry grunted as his foot nearly missed the step ahead of him; cursing Hagrid in his mind.  The box they were carrying was moving and swaying, and little tufts of teddy bear stuffing were floating out through the air holes.  Norbert, or Norberta, as Harry remembered properly, seemed a lot heavier than last time.

"We're almost there," Harry whispered, slowing down so Hermione could keep up. He'd felt angry for the past few days, annoyed that the second of May had come and gone, leaving him and Snape still steadfastly stuck in the past. The anger wasn't helping him tonight, and Harry was even irritated with the chips and cracks in the stone stairs.

"If Hagrid gets another dragon," Hermione whispered back, taking the stairs carefully, "he's on his own."

Harry growled in agreement and they kept going. Charlie's friends were meeting them at the top of the Astronomy Tower, as previously planned. Ron was in the hospital, recovering from the dragon bite that Harry hadn't been able to prevent. He had taken the note back from Ron though, so this time Malfoy wouldn't be able to intercept it and get them into trouble.

Overall, the past two weeks had gone all right. He'd had regular correspondence with Sirius (who for some reason was eager to teach him duelling skills), Hermione was keeping them busy with revisions, and he was finally becoming less skittish and jittery in the peacetime past. He didn't want to stay there forever, but he wasn't feeling the overwhelming pull to go back.

Watching Norberta finally disappear off in the distance behind some clouds, Harry picked up his cloak. He was not making the mistake of leaving it there again.

"Why did you snap at Ron earlier today?" Hermione asked, watching Harry shake his cloak out.

"I didn't snap at him," Harry denied. A chorus of owls, leaving to hunt for the night, screeched as they flew out the owlery. "I warned him that the dragon would bite."

"Well, none of us knew it would bite right then," Hermione argued back. "And beside, I don't think Madame Pomfrey will say anything about it to Dumbledore."

"No, but Ron wouldn't have spent four days in the infirmary, nor us have to take Norberta alone up here if he'd had listened," Harry grumbled. He held out the cloak for Hermione to sneak under, but she stood stool with her arms crossed.

"Norberta?" Hermione asked. "You're not his older brother, Harry. It's not his fault he was bitten, and it's not your job to order him around."

"No, but," Harry said, frustrated. "Never mind, let's go back before we get caught."

"You know, Ron's angry that he hasn't been given his rat back, and you've been in a foul mood since last week. I think we should have started studying for exams earlier," Hermione said, her voice high and irritating like it had been at the very beginning of first year. "We'd all be much happier."

"No, it's not the exams Hermione. There are more important things than exams," Harry huffed out in exasperation.

It was past half twelve, and Harry just wanted to go to his warm bed where he could close the curtains and be by himself. Just as they reached the door to go back downstairs, Harry and Hermione realised that they were not alone at the tower.

"So eager to leave, on such a nice evening?" Snape asked, stepping out from behind one of the many battlement shadows at the top of the tower.

Hermione paused, looking up at Snape with a mixture of surprise and slight irritation.

"We were just checking, for astronomy..." she started.  Hermione abruptly shut her mouth with the look Snape gave her.

"Silence," Snape hissed, stepping closer to them. "Potter I expected to find here, but you, Granger, now that is a surprise."

"Detention, sir?" Harry asked, looking directly at Snape.  Snape met the eye contact with intensity that caught Harry off guard.

"Ten points for cheek, Potter," Snape softly said, never once looking elsewhere but at Harry. "And twenty-five points each for being out past curfew."

"Fifty?" Hermione said, in a tiny voice.  Snape smiled maliciously.

"I highly recommend returning to your dormitories at once, lest you wish the number to be higher."

With the cloak bunched up in his one hand, Harry grabbed Hermione's sleeve with his other and rushed her toward the stairs before they could lose any further points. It wasn't as bad as the first time they'd done this, years ago, but Harry had a sinking feeling that his housemates would still hate him.

"Mr Potter," Snape said, just as they'd taken three steps down. "As I am quite certain this was your idea, you shall be serving two detentions with me, at a later date."

Harry didn't even turn back to acknowledge what Snape had said, and they both ran the rest of the way back to the Gryffindor common room.  Neville was just about to sneak out of the portrait, but Harry pushed him back in.

"Don't. Snape's out there," Harry growled. He stormed up the steps to his dorm, too distracted to say goodnight. Hermione remained downstairs to whisper to Neville about what had happened, and Harry went straight for his bed.

The journal was cold, but Harry figured Snape would be expecting a message tonight.

"What the hell was that for?" Harry angrily wrote, splashes of ink hitting the page. "We're supposed to be working together, not docking points and giving detentions."

The journal remained its regular temperature, and Harry wondered if Snape was still out patrolling the halls. He almost wished Snape wasn't, because more time with the journal meant Harry would just let out all his anger unedited, instead of having someone responding and making him actually think about what he was saying.

He was about to dig out his chess set from the Christmas crackers and pit the figures against one another when the journal flashed with heat. Ready for a fight, Harry settled against the pillow and headboard of his bed, with his quill poised.

"You are lucky I didn't have you expelled for smuggling a dragon around school grounds."

Harry was gobsmacked, and his checked that his squeaked ‘what?!' hadn't woken anyone up.

"Expelled! Would you rather the dragon have stayed at Hogwarts?"

Harry swore as his ink bottle tipped over, but he was fast enough to catch it after only a few drops had spilled.  The Hogwarts elves wouldn't be happy with him, but Harry would try to leave a note of apology with the laundry in the morning.  His wand was on the bed beside him, and Harry angrily slashed it through the air as he cast the muffliato spell.

"I would rather you have told me what you were doing, Potter! This was dangerous enough the first time around."

"Rubbish!" Harry immediately wrote. "You're busy trying to get the locket, and you've told me that you'll work out how to get rid of my scar.  I handled the dragon when I actually was eleven, so I saw no reason to tell you about it this time."

"And if you'd gotten injured?" Snape fired back. "If it was you in the infirmary, and not Mr Weasley?"

"That's beside the point. You need to trust me with some parts of our tasks."

"I don't need to do anything. You took too many risks the first time, and lived only by your luck. We shall not be so unprepared again, Harry."

"What? You gave me a detention because you care about me?" Harry wrote. He stretched in his bed, wondering how every time he sat leaning up against the headboard, he ended up sliding further and further down.

"I only care so that my life's sacrifice is not made for a useless reason. It appears we will need to continue the search over the summer, and I must know that I can trust you not to do anything stupid."

It suddenly struck Harry that Snape was acting like an overly protective git because he was just that. Snape honestly wanted Harry to survive, and he had resigned to the fact that it was him and Harry who were the ones that needed to destroy the horcruxes. Defeated, Harry paused before answering. Snape meant well, in his own way, and from everything that Harry knew about the man, he was one that Harry wanted watching over him.

"You can trust me," Harry wrote, his handwriting much more legible now that he was calmer. Snape's answer was a few minutes coming, likely because he was trying to figure out if Harry was being honest or sarcastic.

"You still have detention. Good night, Potter."

...

Early on Saturday morning, two hours before the start of his 8 am all-day detention, Harry dressed warmly and headed out onto the castle grounds.  It was the middle of May -two weeks after Norberta had been picked up-, and while it was warm enough during the day, the cool Scottish mornings still had a good chill on them. And the forest wasn't warm even at the height of day.

It didn't take Harry long to find the clearing in the forest, and this time he found it completely devoid of life. There weren't any small creatures grazing in the clearing, and Harry couldn't even hear the noises of the centaurs that roamed the woods. There were no signs of the future either, no hints to how he and Snape had managed to come back to this point.

He could hear the chirping of far off birds, and see some small flashes of silver amongst the shrubbery, but nothing else.  Harry chose a fallen tree trunk to sit on, disregarding the moisture on the bark and letting himself be surrounded by the scents of the forest. He kept glancing back at the silver, thinking about how unnervingly calm the place seemed to be. After a short moment Harry realised that it was unicorn blood that he was looking at. Instead of leaving though, or seeking out the trail of blood, Harry merely closed his eyes.

"I died here," Harry whispered, remembering that night. May 2nd, 1998. Everything that Harry had lived for in the magical world had worked up to that night; certainly everything that Snape had done or thought about in the last twenty years as well. Two armies, two causes, one final resolution. It had always been Hogwarts - Harry knew that the war would end there.

"I died here," Harry said again. He remembered how cold it had been, remembered how deathly quiet the forest had seemed. Remembered his parents, Sirius, and Remus, there to guide him. He remembered the way the forest floor had felt spongy under his feet.

"Harry?"

Harry sprang to his feet, stumbling slightly on a tree root as he straightened. Dumbledore slowly walked into the clearing itself, watching his own steps more than he was looking at Harry's panicked expression.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry said, wondering how long Dumbledore had been there, and what he'd heard.

"I must confess, when the portraits told me a student was in the forest, I had thought it would be a Weasley twin," Dumbledore neutrally said, coming to stand next to Harry. He faced the same way that Harry had been looking, but didn't see the memories that Harry was seeing.

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologised, wrapping his cloak around himself. As a first year, he wasn't to leave the tower until breakfast hours of seven, never mind go into the Forbidden Forest by himself.

"It's peaceful here, wouldn't you say, Harry?" Dumbledore said, peering further into the trees. Harry's vision wandered again to the spot where Voldemort had sent the killing curse from.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. "No, I don't think so."

Suddenly, Harry really wanted to leave the clearing. He didn't want to risk being sent back to the future, so unprepared. He knew that he couldn't face Voldemort again, couldn't let himself be murdered.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Well, it is fortunate I found you in any event. Sirius Black will be arriving at Hogwarts later, to take lunch with you."

"Is he?" Harry asked, smiling. "He said I could go live with him for the summer. I won't have to go back to the Dursleys."

Dumbledore had a conflicted look that passed momentarily on his face.

"I'm afraid that you will, Harry. Only for a little while."

"Why?" Harry asked, knowing that Dumbledore would use the ‘you're too young to understand' excuse.

"I'm afraid some explanations are best left for later," Dumbledore lightly answered. They both paused as something in the distance crashed through the underbrush of the forest.

"They hate me, sir. They've never wanted me there," Harry said, his voice flat.

"Hatred is a strong word, Harry," Dumbledore tiredly said, breaking out of whatever thoughts he had and turning back toward the path to Hogwarts. "For example, one might say that you and Professor Snape hate each other, but I am optimistic that it is merely antagonistic irritation."

Harry stared up at Dumbledore, his expression one of disbelief.

"No, you can safely say there was hatred there."

"Was?" Dumbledore asked, a small smile on his face. He held his hand out, gesturing toward the trail for Hogwarts, and Harry stepped forward.

"I've learned a lot about him," Harry confused, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "I don't think he likes teaching me occlumency."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure Professor Snape knows that he can trust you not to divulge any information regarding his private memories."

"Never, sir," Harry strongly said. "I would never."

Some nettles were snagging on Dumbledore's beard as they passed some lively shrubbery, but the older wizard didn't stop to pluck them out, nor did he try to avoid them. It made him look as if he'd gotten miniature spindly pygmy puffs caught in his beard.

"I do have some questions though," Harry tried, taking a chance. "And Professor Snape would probably take a hundred points for me asking."

"That is very likely," Dumbledore agreed, holding back a thorny branch. "Severus is a very private man."

Harry followed for a few more minutes, working out the best way to ask his question.

"Do you think Snape hates me because my mother died?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore stopped and thought for a moment, and Harry knew that he would give an honest answer. Perhaps slightly vague, but as honest as Dumbledore usually was.

"Did you ever have a teddy bear that you played with, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, catching Harry of guard.

"No, Dudley tore them apart," Harry honestly answered. "I had a blanket though, one I was wrapped in when my Aunt picked me up as a baby."

Dumbledore gave a small and sad nod at this.

"The blanket made you happy?"

"Of course," Harry answered, nudging a stone loose out of the mossy forest floor with his shoe. "It kept me safe at night, made me feel better when I was sick. You know."

"Yes, yes I do. And how would you feel if that blanket was destroyed?" Dumbledore asked.

"Devastated," Harry replied after a moment. "I kept it in my pillowcase when I was older, so Aunt Petunia couldn't throw it out."

"Similar to your blanket, I believe your mother was Professor Snape's one happy childhood memory," Dumbledore quietly said. The light in the forest got brighter as they walked closer to the castle grounds. "When she died, he lost that link."

They passed a small grass snake, hunting in the morning for whatever insects and crickets were still about. Harry fought to resist speaking to it in Parseltongue.

"He also lost it, sort of, when my dad started dating her. And I look like my dad," Harry said, rather certain that Snape also strongly detested his patronage. To his bemusement, Dumbledore smiled.

"Perhaps, but I believe even Professor Snape had realised that he and your mother were never destined to be more than the greatest of friends."

Before Harry could think of a response to that statement, they'd reached the edge of the forest and walked into the warm sun.  The morning dew was starting to burn off the grass, and in the far distance owls were circling the owlery with packages of post.

"Sirius will be here at noon for you," Dumbledore said, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "I've asked Professor Snape to allow you a break from your detention for lunch."

"Brilliant," Harry said, feeling better than he had been since waking up early that morning.

"Yes, well. Run off to your detention, Professor Snape hates when students are late," Dumbledore said.

"Right, of course," Harry agreed, taking off into a jog. He stopped when Dumbledore called to him again.

"Harry! Remember that the forest is forbidden - the next time will cost you quite a few points."

"Yes sir!" Harry called, running off again.

...

Harry knocked on the office door, looking up and down the hallway to see if other students were coming. He didn't much care if anyone saw him there, and knew that not even Malfoy would bother him that much; it was just habit to check for others.

The door swung open on its own, and Harry walked in to find Snape sitting at his desk, writing something down in a book.

"What shall I do, sir? Chop ingredients? Scrub cauldrons?" Harry sarcastically asked. He was prepared for one of Snape's usual boring detentions.

Snape looked up and rolled his eyes.

"As much as I would like for you to suffer through manual labour for your stupidity, I have better suited tasks for your time."

"It wasn't stupid," Harry grumbled. "We needed to get rid of the dragon."

Snape held up his hand though, and let the book fall closed.

"We have discussed this already," Snape warned, standing up.

Harry said nothing else, following Snape back into the man's private apartment. Again Harry was met by warmth in the room, and the blanket he wrapped up in every time was waiting for him on the couch.

"Why is it so much warmer in here than in your classroom?" Harry asked, picking up the blanket.

"I don't live in my classroom," Snape tersely responded from the kitchen. Harry noticed an envelope on the coffee table, with ‘Do not touch' written on it.

"What's that?" Harry asked, nodding at it. He figured it would be something for him to see, as it made little sense for Snape to have an envelope in his own house reminding him not to touch it.

"A locket," Snape replied, returning to the living room and settling into his seat. He had a sheaf of notes with him, and curiously, a stack of photographs in his hand with the Malfoys on top.

Snape tipped the envelope and Harry watched raptly as the silver chain fell out first. His smile dropped though, when an ugly silver locket followed; jewelled with a vomit-coloured oddly-shaped stone.

"Not it," Harry said, trying to hide his disappointment.

Snape was watching him carefully, but he didn't seem surprised.

"You are entirely certain that the locket was in a cabinet," Snape repeated.

"Yeah," Harry absentmindedly answered. He reached out and carefully touched the locket, confirming that it wasn't the horcrux.

"I found it, well, I got it from Umbridge," Harry said, sitting back against the couch.

"Delores Umbridge?" Snape asked, surprised.

"The crazy cat lady," Harry nodded. "She was wearing it at the Ministry. She'd bought it off of Mundungus Fletcher, who'd stolen it from Grimmauld Place."

Snape gave him a dubious look, but Harry was on a memory roll.

"Kreacher found Mundungus for us. He said that Dung had stolen it from the cabinet that Kreacher had placed the locket in. He'd put it there because he couldn't get the locket open, and Regulus had asked him to destroy it."

"Is that all?" Snape dryly said.

"Regulus stole it. He and Kreacher left of copy of the horcrux at the cave where Voldemort had first hidden it," Harry smartly said.

"Another house elf to question," Snape muttered, noting it down in his notes.

"I don't think that'll work," Harry said, shaking his head. "Kreacher doesn't like Sirius, or me, or, well, half-bloods and muggleborns in general, and it took us a lot of convincing the first time to get him to give up the information."

"Black can still order him to give up the locket," Snape shrugged, not concerned about the morals or blood purity beliefs of a house elf.

Harry nodded, tucking his feet under the blanket on the couch. His shoes had been dropped by the front hallway's door.

"I think he already has. His letters to me have been really scattered and odd."

Snape didn't look impressed.

"Sirius Black has never been the paragon of organized thought."

"Right, well all know you were the bookworm at school," Harry immediately answered, wincing when he realised that he sounded like an arse. "But he'll been really angry in the morning letter, and then in the afternoon he's nice and friendly. He keeps trying to teach me defence tips, and he has a lot to say about you, actually."

"What has that to do with the locket?"

"It feeds off you when you wear it," Harry explained. "Like the diadem, knowing that you wanted to be smart enough for Ravenclaw - it knew that from when you touched it.  The more you're in contact with the horcrux, the more it learns about you and the more foulness it seeps into you."

Snape's hand was flying as he took notes, and Harry immediately got the image in his mind of a fifth year Severus Snape racing to write as much as he could on his OWL parchments.

"We had to rotate the locket when we were camping; it got Ron so worked up that he left for two months. I think he's got it, becuase Sirius was never really angry with me when I knew him. He hated you, and hated Peter Pettigrew. But he never acted like this."

"Check when he visits today," Snape ordered, putting his notes away into a large folder. "See if he's wearing it."

"Yes sir," Harry sardonically said. "Can I have some tea?"

"Not yet," Snape said, pulling out the photographs. "First we are going to enquire about the diary."

Harry watched, slightly anxious, as Snape stood and threw some Floo powder into the fireplace embers. The fire sparked up and Snape stuck his head in, rendering the recipient of his call blocked. Harry only heard murmurs, and after a minute he watched Snape reach in through the fire to grab something. The call wound down quickly after that, and a small blurry bundle was yanked through the green flames before the call was cut.

"Severus Snape, sir! Dobby remembers you!" Dobby squeaked, righting himself and staring at Snape. He then looked around the room, and caught sight of Harry.

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter is a great wizard, Dobby is hearing many stories of Harry Potter!" Before Harry knew it, Dobby was jumping on the couch next to him.

"Harry Potter is leaking," Dobby said, peering at him.

Harry had a large smile on his face, but couldn't stop the tears that had formed in his eyes. Although not yet free, his loyal friend Dobby was all smiles and energy.

"Hi Dobby," Harry said, ignoring Snape's disgusted face.

The house elf smiled wide, and Harry wondered what he was allowed to mention while trying to get the diary.

"Dobby, have you heard anything about next school year?"

"Oh yes," Dobby said, looking eager. "Dobby has heard Draco Malfoy is wanting a broomstick!" Dobby said.

Harry gave a little half laugh, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

"I'm sure he does. But have you heard of anything bad happening? A plot?"

At this, Dobby looked stricken. He jumped off the couch and clutched the hem of his pillowcase, shaking his head.

"Dobby has heard...but Harry Potter must be kept safe," Dobby muttered.

"Dobby," Harry started, glancing up at Snape as if for permission. Snape nodded slightly, and pinched his fingers together to indicate a very small amount.

"I know that your masters are planning something," Harry finished.  Dobby gave him a panicked look, and reached for the coffee table. Well-prepared, Harry flung a couch cushion atop the table and stopped Dobby from doing much damage to his head.

"Dobby, listen to me," Harry tried again. "I know you are a very loyal house elf, and that you will try your hardest to do what's right. I need you to trust me."

Dobby hummed fretfully to himself, but he had his large curious eyes on Harry and was listening.

"We need you to get us the diary from your master's house. The one that belonged to Tom Riddle," Harry exhaled, watching sharply for Dobby's reaction.

"Harry Potter must not touch the diary!" Dobby squeaked, bouncing on the floor. He looked incredibly agitated and nervous, and Harry sprung to his feet.

"I won't, I won't!" Harry insisted, holding his hands out to placate the house elf. Harry felt like he was back at the Dursleys', over the summer of second year again. "Professor Snape will destroy it."

Dobby seemed to at least consider this, and Harry was only slightly insulted that the little house elf didn't think he could handle the diary. From the look on Snape's face, the man was amused.

"I can assure you, Dobby," Snape said, "that I have both the means and the strong desire to destroy this diary. Most importantly, the dark magic contained within it."

Dobby looked nervously between them, and gave Harry a hesitant little smile.

"Harry Potter must not touch anything from Lucius Malfoy," Dobby insisted.

"I won't," Harry promised, shaking his head. "You've saved my life before, Dobby. I trust you."

"Dobby has?" the little elf said, raising himself up proudly and eagerly.

"Err, yeah," Harry answered, frantically trying to think of how he'd lie his way out of that one. Behind Dobby, in the easy chair, Snape was giving him a ‘you are a dumbarse' look.

But Dobby didn't need any further explanation, and was satisfied to know that he'd somehow helped the great Harry Potter before.

"Dobby knows where is the diary," Dobby confidentially said.  "Dobby will give it to Professor Snape."

He nodded in satisfaction, and Harry smiled. Dobby would do everything he could to make sure Harry never touched it.

"Thanks, Dobby. You're a great friend."

Dobby beamed, and eagerly accepted the pile of photographs from Snape. They were old, unimportant, and Snape's excuse for calling the house elf over in the first place.

Watching Dobby disappear, Harry felt a weight lift slowly off his shoulders. Two horcruxes down, one on its way for delivery, the locket in limbo, and they were just left with finding the ring and ridding Harry of his scar. Thankfully Nagini hadn't been created as a horcrux yet.

"So, is there any sort of wizarding telephone directory? That we can look up addresses in?"

Snape gave him a blank look.

"You don't honestly expect horcrux to be listed in the directory, do you?" Snape deadpanned, causing Harry to grin.

"No, but I'm hoping Voldemort's grandparents are."

...

Sirius was waiting in a small office down the hall from the trophy room, with a veritable feast from the kitchens. Rolls, luncheon meats, cheeses, pickles, salad, veggies, fruit, and other treats were laid out on the desk, and there were two cool pitchers of pumpkin juice.

"Harry!" Sirius greeted, giving Harry a big hug. Harry only came up to mid chest in the hug, which felt old.

"Hi," Harry responded. He followed Sirius to the desk, and started loading his plate. Conversation easily slipped into Harry's schoolwork, upcoming exams, and Grimmauld Place. Harry kept sneaking glances at Sirius' neck as his godfather talked, but the man wore heavy clothes and was well covered.  Harry wasn't sure if it was to hide the locket, or his prison tattoos.

Harry found out that while at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had Sirius researching in the voluminous Black family library, looking at blood magic and the different types of protection spells. Harry hoped that it was so he could live there for the summers, and not have to spend time at the Dursleys first.

"So I've heard Snape's teaching you occlumency?" Sirius jokingly said, sitting back in his chair with his coffee.

"Yeah," Harry lightly answered, pouring himself more juice. "It's easily the hardest thing I've had to learn."

"Not surprising, considering the pillock of a teacher you have," Sirius snorted.

Harry furrowed his brows and looked up.

"It's not an easy subject," Harry defended. "And it's something I need to learn, in case Voldemort comes back."

"Perhaps," Sirius said, putting his cup down. "But I think there are other people you could learn it from. And I don't believe an eleven year old should be concerning himself about You Know Who."

"You just don't like Snape," Harry pointedly said, his voice small as if he were trying to avoid angering Sirius.

"No, I don't. I've never trusted him. Not when we were boys, and not now," Sirius said, his voice trailing off to a mutter. "Blackmailing me with that bloody rat."

"Why? Was he an arse to you at school?" Harry pressed, wanting to know. He ignored the remark about Pettigrew, because Harry was sadly certain that without the blackmail, Sirius wouldn't give anything up to Snape, horcrux or not.

"Well of course," Sirius said. "Snape knew all the dark curses when he got to school, didn't hesitate once in hexing you back something awful."

A house elf popped into the room with fresh tea, and popped out before either of them could thank the elf.

"Hexed back, sure," Harry said. "But did he start things?"

Sirius shrugged as he shifted in his chair. "Can't remember, it was a long time ago. You know what school boys are like."

That was a no, then, Harry thought.

"Yeah, I do remember. I was that boy that people picked on," Harry said. It annoyed him that sitting in the visitor's chair, his feet didn't touch the ground. It made him feel like a little child.

"Oh, come on Harry, it was all in good fun. Besides, I'll bet you had lots of friends at school," Sirius said, smiling. He looked like he wanted to reach across the desk and ruffle Harry's hair.

"Sure," Harry blandly said. "Ron and Hermione, once I got here."

Harry didn't want to talk about the past any more though. He'd always known his father and father's friends were bullies, and he accepted it. There was nothing he could do about the past, and Harry was just glad he'd never been the same way.

"You've been spending too much time with Snivellus," Sirius said, his gaze narrowed. "He's been putting tales in your head."

"No, he hasn't," Harry bit back. "I grew up with a family that hated me, and a cousin that told my schoolmates to beat me up. I know what it feels like to be that kid."

"Did you think we beat up on him every day?" Sirius asked, surprised. "He was in Slytherin, we didn't see him that often."

"You took his trousers down after exams, in front of everyone!" Harry blurted. He hadn't meant to bring up that incident, but the child in him hated the fact that the bully in Sirius was simply laughing things off. "How is that fun?"

Sirius stopped smiling, and slowly stirred more sugar into his coffee.

"How did you know about that?"

"Occlumency lessons," Harry shrugged. "I've seen memories of his, and he's seen some of mine."

"It happened," Sirius confirmed, speaking carefully. "And I'm not saying we were right. However, you are my godson, not his kid, and I assure you, Severus Snape does not need your defence."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I still need to work with him," Harry responded.

"Work? You're his student, not his apprentice," Sirius laughed.

"I'm not, no," Harry admitted, smiling. "But there are some tasks he does for Dumbledore, and Snape has mentioned I might need to take lessons over the summer."

Sirius looked dismayed at that, and Harry knew it was the schoolboy in him that was put out at the idea.

"Do you know what he's looking for?"

"Some type of jewellery," Harry nonchalantly shrugged. He was watching though, and noticed that Sirius didn't move, there was no brush of his hand against his neck to ensure a necklace or locket was still there. "I didn't even know men usually wore necklaces."

"Oh it's quite fashionable for some wizards," Sirius lightly said. He moved his own collar aside and showed Harry his bare neck. "I prefer just the tattoos."

"Whoa," Harry said, pretending to be fascinated by the tattoos, and not disappointed that Sirius didn't have the locket.

"But anyway," Sirius said, steering the conversation somewhere non-flammatory. "However did you end up with a full day's weekend detention?"

"I smuggled a dragon out of Hogwarts," Harry said, reaching out for a biscuit from the tray. Sirius gave him a broad grin, and Harry felt as if he'd made the man proud.

"Thatta boy, Harry. We'll make a marauder out of you yet."

...

Harry returned to the dungeons with a full stomach and a curious mind. If Sirius wasn't wearing the locket, where on earth was it? Harry really didn't want to have to deal with Kreacher, as the house elf was rather depressing and irritating to converse with. Snape wasn't in his office, so Harry took the chance and walked through to the hallway behind the hidden door. Snape was standing beside one of his bookcases, a pair of thin and Muggle-modern reading glasses on as he perused through a book.

"Sirius wasn't wearing the locket," Harry announced, dropping his school cloak on the couch. There was a thick black book on the chesterfield, and Harry's blanket had been folded up at his spot.

"Hmmm. A Hogwarts elf has been sent to get the directory. You've mentioned that the Gaunts lived outside a Muggle village?"

"Yes. I remember exactly what it looked like," Harry said, slipping on to the couch. After such a big lunch, and the very early rise from bed, he was feeling quite sleepy.

"Cross reference the Muggle listings for Riddle, with whichever reference of the Gaunts is in that genealogy book," Snape instructed, still looking at his own reading.

"All right," Harry said, stretching out and pulling the blanket over himself. Snape was still lost in his own reading, and the house elf hadn't delivered the phone directory yet.

"Why were you in the Forbidden Forest at six in the morning?" Snape asked, his voice distant. Harry had his eyes closed, and answered slowly.

"I needed a place to think," Harry answered, deciding not to bother taking his glasses off. Snape hadn't said anything yet about him setting up to take a quick kip. "And it doesn't scare me anymore."