Frowning, Harry finished tying his school tie as he stood in front of the mirror. He had been released earlier from the hospital wing. However, instead of being allowed to return to Gryffindor tower like Harry wanted, though, he had been forced to follow his father down to their rooms. So, once they arrived, he quickly headed to his room, hiding out in there and doing his best to give the older wizard the silent treatment. For the most part, his father allowed it, keeping his distance for some reason.

However, after an hour, there was a knock against his doorframe. Harry glanced in the mirror and quickly looked away when he saw his father.

"I see the brat currently inhabiting my son is still here," his dad remarked.

"You're wrong," Harry snapped grumpily.

His father sighed. "We know nothing about that man, Harry."

"I know little about you, yet others still let me be around you," he argued.

"That's different. You're my son."

"And he could be your dad!"

"Could, Harry. Even you're not a hundred percent certain." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Son, I can't take that risk with you."

"He hasn't hurt me!"

"Yet!" his dad yelled back. His father then ran a hand through his raven locks as he shook his head. "Harry, you have to understand. I have more experience in this than you do. He may not have hurt you yet, but he could just be waiting for the opportune time."

"No. You're wrong. Not everyone wants to hurt people."

"Harry—"

"He hasn't hurt me."

"Son, why can't you just listen and trust me?"

"Because you're wrong, Dad. This man has had two opportunities to hurt me, and he hasn't. He helped Mum, too. He carried her up to his flat and did everything I used to do after the Dursleys hurt me. He even gave her a drink of the whiskey to numb her pain since he didn't have a pain potion or anything. He could have just let her suffer and hurt herself more, but he didn't. He helped her, Dad. Now, does that seem like something a person would do if all they wanted to do in the end was hurt me in the end? I don't think so."

"Harry, you're young. You don't understand—"

"What? That people are bastards sometimes?" the twelve-year-old yelled back. "The Dursleys used to lock me in a cupboard, Dad! I wasn't even good enough to have a bed in their eyes, to have food. They treated me worse than a dog, like I was nothing."

"Harry—"

"And it's not just the Dursleys either. I've got some mad person who keeps trying to kill me. I get it, Dad. Better than you do probably. This guy isn't one of them. Why can't you see that? Why do you always have to see the worst in people?" He ended his rant with a sharp kick against his dresser.

His dad remained quiet for a few moments as Harry stomped angrily to his bed and flopped down on it. The young boy tried his best not to look at him. He knew his father wouldn't be happy with that temper tantrum, but it needed to be said.

"Are you finished? Or would you like to kick something else as well? Perhaps the nightstand this time?" his father drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry glared at his father.

"I understand your frustration, Harry. I do. You believe that I am likely being too cautious with you. However, I lost your mother. I could not protect her. I do not want to lose you as well, Harry. Could this man be my father? Possibly. Does that make me any less concerned, though? No. You and I both know firsthand that even family can hurt you and that it usually hurts more."

"He didn't hurt me, though."

"No. He hasn't," his dad agreed quietly. "So far." He held up a hand. "Just listen for a moment. Please." His dad then sighed before continuing. "My mother took the brunt of his abuse alone for years. In his eyes, I was considered normal because I hadn't shown any magical inclination around him. So, he thought I was like him, a Muggle. He hated magic, Harry. Feared it." He glanced at Harry. "Sometimes when people, Magical and otherwise, fear things they don't understand, that fear quickly turns to hatred." His dad frowned. "When I had my first accidental magic around him, about seven, he beat me. Much like how your uncle did with you. He didn't stop until I was unconscious. He continued this pattern every time I displayed any magic around him with the thinking that he could beat the unnaturalness out of me. That he could make me normal like everyone else. He convinced me at one point that I was unnatural, that I deserved it."

"But you didn't deserve that. Nobody does."

His dad nodded slowly, the corners of his lips twitching for a moment. "No. I didn't, Harry." His dad's voice now held a strange emotion in it that the young boy couldn't figure out. His dad laughed softly, then. "It's pride you hear, Harry. In my voice." The boy's eyes widened suddenly.

"You can read minds?"

"Not exactly. I can read people."

"Oh." Harry nodded slowly. "I thought it was like your thing you can do. You know, the thing that makes my scar not hurt?"

"You're correct. It's part of it." His dad then glanced at a nearby clock. "We should start for the Great Hall now. We can speak later."

"But don't I have classes today?" It was the first day of the term. There were always classes the first day. Had he missed something?

"Classes are postponed until tomorrow." Harry opened his mouth, but his dad held a hand up. "The headmaster did not feel it right to hold classes the day after the tragic attack at King's Cross where some students lost parents. He's proclaimed this to be a grieving day."

"Oh."

"The usual separation of houses in the Great Hall has been suspended in fact." The two then started for the door to leave. "After breakfast, come to the staff table so we can leave together." Harry nodded before he hugged his dad briefly, knowing he'd not have the chance for awhile.

~FKTF~

As soon as they reached the doors to the Great Hall, Harry instinctively stepped away from Snape and headed to his friends. Snape drew in a slow breath, ignoring the slight sting he felt at this unfortunate, albeit normal, action. Even twelve-year-olds like Harry didn't like to be seen walking into the Great Hall with their fathers. It didn't mean that his son rejected him, though. He had to remind himself of this unfortunately, having been too often rejected by others.

When he reached the staff table, Snape quickly took the only seat left available. He made sure not to glace at either Sinistra or the unknown woman on his other side. He hated it when he was the last to arrive, but it was necessary today.

"Is everything all right with Harry, Severus?"

Snape paused in mid-action of reaching for his cup of tea at the sound of Sinistra's voice. He could hear the concern in her voice. She was starting to sound like Molly Weasley around his son. He then winced inwardly at the mentioning of the Weasley matriarch.

"He's fine, Professor," he answered in a clipped tone before taking a sip of his tea. He hated being here for breakfast. It always made him feel as if he was on display like a piece of art.

"Are you trying a new product, Snape? Your hair is really nice this year," remarked from further down the staff table another witch, Septima Vector he realized a moment later.

"Septima," Sinistra snapped, clear disapproval in her voice.

Snape felt like crawling under the table, but held the urge back just barely. Could Sinistra make her feelings for him any more apparent? He snidely added it to yet another reason they would never be together. He could only imagine— The ghostly feel of warm breath against his ear stopped him instantly. He swallowed, knowing that no one was there, an invisible charm or otherwise. A hallucination then. He forced himself to remain looking calm.

"Severus," a soft voice whispered, drawing his name out like a snake.

His wand hand tensed slightly as he continued staring straight ahead out at the Great Hall. What the hell was happening? He then inhaled sharply at the feel of someone suddenly grabbing his arm, the ghostly sensation disappearing at once. His eyes darted down to his right arm before he quickly yanked his arm back from Sinistra.

"Are you all right, Severus? You seemed out of it just now."

"Perfect," he growled, desperately grasping at his anger for protection to keep the unsettling other emotions at bay. "I can do without you pawing at me like some I'm some piece of meat, however, Professor Sinistra," he snarled. He ignored her huff of outrage.

"See if I ever try to help you again, you grumpy bastard," she snapped, turning away from him.

"Well," muttered the unknown woman on his other side.

"What? Do you have something to add?" he growled, glaring at the unknown woman who kept her eyes downcast on her journal. He assumed she was the replacement for the late Muggle Studies professor, who had unfortunately died over the summer in a flying accident.

She merely glanced at him finally and smiled faintly with an air of mystery around her before she returned to reading her journal quietly.

Snape clenched his jaw in return. He hated his colleagues. Absolutely hated them. Sinistra was tolerable . . . sometimes. When she wasn't trying to force herself on him that was. The rest of them were either manipulative bastards or complete idiots. Speaking of manipulative, he glanced towards the center of the table at Dumbledore. He watched the white bearded wizard stand, which made Snape frown. A hush then fell on the Great Hall as everyone waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"I'm afraid with the tragic events of yesterday that I forgot to introduce our two new staff members joining us this year." Dumbledore gave a brief smile before he glanced at the two odd ducks at the table. "First off, Professor Lockhart has been kind enough to take the Defense against the Dark Arts post. I'm certain we'll all stand to learn a thing or two from such an accomplished man."

Snape snorted. An accomplished man? That was one way to describe him. The man was clearly a baboon in sheep's clothing.

"As I'm certain most of you are aware, Professor Reynolds who had previously held the Muggle Studies position was killed last July in an accident. Professor Rayne has thankfully taken the post. Let's give them a very warm welcome, shall we?" There was a large applause around the large room from the students and the staff.

Snape then sighed inwardly as he watched Dumbledore sit back down. Breakfast would be over soon enough, and then he could return to his rooms with Harry. They had various things they needed to discuss today. He glanced towards his son, watching the young boy talk animatedly with his friends. No doubt, the boy would learn about Molly's disappearance from the others. He then glanced away. They'd deal with it later. For now, the boy was happy.

"Rayne?" Sinistra stated, glancing around Snape to talk with the woman on his other side.

"Yes," the woman replied softly, her mouth barely moving as she spoke.

"Oh my Circe!"

Snape glanced at Sinistra instantly. She was acting like a fifth-year who had just received all Os on her OWLs. What was she going on about?

"Like the gorgeous vampire in The Lonely Witch?"

He closed his eyes. Of course. Her stupid romance novels. He should have known better.

"Something like that, yes," Professor Rayne answered quietly, her eyes downcast as she continued reading her journal.

"Oh, I just love that book."

"No one cares, Sinistra," Snape grumbled, buttering his piece of toast.

"Well, no one asked for your bloody opinion either, you giant bat," she snapped back.

Snape scoffed. Sinistra was much too easy to rile up. How she had been sorted into Slytherin was truly anyone's guess. He fell silent instantly when he caught the headmaster's disapproving look in their direction. He popped a bit of his toast in his mouth and chewed it.

"So, what are you reading, Professor Rayne?" Again, Sinistra tried to talk through Snape.

He just barely bit back his sarcastic retort in time before the woman replied.

"The latest edition of Wizardly World's Quarterly," the woman answered quietly. Her mouth barely moved when she spoke.

"Oh."

Snape snorted silently. Of course, Sinistra wouldn't be familiar with a such a highly respected—

"Well, if you turn to page twenty-three, I believe, you'll find Severus's article on Nerve Restorative draughts and how they could be strengthened by adding Re'em blood instead of the usual dragon. It was quite intriguing actually."

"What?" His head snapped towards Sinistra. "You actually read it?"

"It's not as if I had anything better to do while I was recovering this summer. Why? Surprised?"

"Yes actually," he answered, frowning.

"Why? Because I teach Astronomy so there's no way I of all people could ever understand any of the ridiculous long arse words you used in your article in your absurd attempt to flaunt your vocabulary like some immature six-year-old?"

He glared at her. "Perhaps if you bothered to write any articles that were worth publishing, Sinistra, you'd know—"

"Hmm, Aurora C. Sinistra," the woman next to Snape whispered, causing him to stop instantly.

"What?" He glanced at Rayne, noticing that she had her nose still in that damn journal. "Let me see that." He snatched the journal from her and quickly skimmed the top of the article.

"Oh? What was that, Severus? I'm sorry. I can't hear you over the sound of your ego deflating." His eyes darted to Sinistra as he stared at her with a confused look. "Oh, yes, love, you're reading that right. I have seven published articles. Remind me? How many do you have again? Hmm?"

"Impossible!"

"Hardly," the curly-haired witch said with a snort.

"There's no way you have—there has to be a mistake here."

"No mistake. You see, unlike you, I don't try to make my readers feel like complete idiots. Nor do I force them to have to find a thesaurus to figure out what I'm saying."

He tossed the journal down angrily. There was no way Sinistra had more published articles than him. None. Just two years ago, she had two to his five. He sat through the rest of breakfast seething.

~FKTF~

Harry glanced at the closed door worriedly. The man seemed absolutely livid when they had returned to their rooms. In fact, the older wizard had stalked off to his private labs the second they set foot in here and locked himself up inside. Numerous times, Harry thought about knocking on the closed door to see if he could help, but he thought better of it every time. He didn't want the man mad at him.

Only when the clock chimed eleven at night, the young boy couldn't wait any longer. He knocked gently against the sturdy oak door and waited outside. When he received no answer, he knocked again, louder this time.

"Dad? Are you all right in there?" He took a step back when the door burst open.

"How in the bloody hell did she manage to publish seven articles?" his dad growled.

The young boy stared at his father for a few moments. "Maybe she was bored?" he offered. He bit his lip when his dad's obsidian eyes darted to him. "Sorry. That was rhetorical, wasn't it?"

"I have five articles published. Five. That's an accomplishment, I'll have you know. And here Sinistra is with seven! Seven of the bloody damn things! It's . . . absurd."

Harry did his best not to laugh. It was rather cute to see his dad all competitive with her. It reminded him of Ron and Hermione.

His dad then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What is it, Harry?"

"It's eleven."

"Oh." His dad frowned. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah. I asked Mokai to bring me some food from the kitchens."

"Good."

"Did you?"

"I'll eat later." His dad then sighed. "I suppose you'll be heading up to the tower tonight?"

"Actually, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight." Harry bit his lip nervously.

"Of course you may. Go on. I'll come in a minute."

Harry smiled before giving his dad another brief hug and rushing off to his room.

True to his word, his dad came in after a minute. All of the anger and frustration that had been in his face was replaced now with fatigue and calmness. His dad slowly walked towards Harry's bedside, following the tradition they had started over the summer.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" his dad asked, slowly pulling the covers up to tuck the twelve-year-old into bed—a way of making up for their lost time.

"Charms, Herbology, Transfigurations, and Defense." He watched his dad make a face at the last class. "You don't like Professor Lockhart very much do you, Dad?"

"I don't like anyone very much, Harry," his dad replied quietly. "However, he would be one that I'd much rather was elsewhere this year."

"Why?"

"He's a bumbling idiot."

"Hermione says he's a legend."

"Well, I'm afraid, Miss Granger is going to get her heartbroken like the rest of them in the end. He may be a charmer, but I doubt any of the things he states were true."

"The witches do seem to like him, don't they?" Harry glanced up at his dad, noticing that the older man was already lost in thought again.

"Yes, unfortunately. Give them a pretty wizard who can spout lines, and they'll throw away their self-respect in order to be with him."

"Ron said that he probably uses a glamour charm to hide the fact that he's a hideous old man." Harry smiled when he heard his dad's mirthful chuckles.

"For once, Weasley used his mind and was able to come with a correct thought." His dad then shook his head before he ruffled Harry's raven locks. "Good night, son."

"Good night, Dad."

Harry watched his father wave his hand towards the lit torches in the room, extinguishing them magically. His green eyes then followed his father as the man silently headed for the door. He saw his father pause for a moment in the doorway before he finally left. Harry rolled over and closed his eyes.