S.S.

"We've got loads of green and silver left." Harry stood in the middle of the room, his face adorned with a satisfied smirk as he nudged the box of decorations towards Snape with his toe. The room was covered in red and gold tinsel and gaudy knickknacks that must have belonged to one of Severus’ grandparents.

"Was there no room left to put the rest up?" Severus replied, feigning disinterest.

"Too much, then?"

Severus shrugged. Any of this tinsel nonsense was too much as far as he was concerned but he wasn't going to give Harry the satisfaction of hearing that was his opinion, not when he was so obviously baiting him for a reaction.

"Well, if you're fine with it then I guess it's staying as it is..."

He didn't reply, instead banishing the remains of the box and summoning a stack of marking that he was keen to get out of the way. "You're really not going to say anything?" Harry demanded after a moment or two more of silence.

"No, I'm not. Though it's quite obvious you want me to." His preferred red ink landed with a satisfying thunk on the table, followed by the clatter of his sturdiest quill.

"I figured you deserved all this after the whole Yule Ball fiasco," Harry said, seeming satisfied that the red and gold decorations did somewhat bother him.

"The points?" Severus asked absently, beginning the tortuously long pile of marking. The top essay would need a spell just to decipher the awful handwriting... Muggle-born first year, still can't hold a quill.

"I was talking about my dress robes, but the points were a bit much," Harry replied, dropping into the seat opposite.

"You sent an elf to spy on me in my quarters," he said, pausing to level a dark glare across the table. "Last year I would have done a lot worse than take a few points."

"I didn't ask him to spy on you."

"I know that, but I was not alone in my quarters. Think Harry. You knew that Draco was down there with me."

"All right," Harry exclaimed defensively. "It was a stupid thing to do, but for all I knew you'd been arrested. Everyone was saying you'd been taken away by the aurors."

"Having good intentions doesn't excuse idiotic mistakes," he replied hotly, brandishing the quill so that drops of red ink splashed across the table like splatters of blood. "Every time you do something foolish you put this arrangement at risk. If you wish your home to remain with me as opposed to those relatives of yours then use your brain," he said caustically, stressing each individual word.

Harry stared back at him for a moment, lips clamped together in a furious line and Severus was certain he was holding back a few choice comments. Predictably, he wasn't able to control himself for longer than it took Severus to scratch out a few fair observations at the top of what he noted was a considerable waste of parchment.

"If Malfoy wasn't in your quarters then it wouldn't have been a big deal. I needed to know whether or not you'd been arrested."

"The headmaster would have informed you if anything had happened to me. This is not about Draco; it is about discretion."

"I knew Dobby was supposed to report to you anyway. I just wanted him to find out if you were okay."

"They will take you away if it becomes known that you live with me," he said seriously, quelling with difficulty a flash of anxiety at the thought of being forced to take veritaserum by the aurors. He could tell by the child's expression that his words had the desired effect, and deciding not to labour the point, he resumed his marking.

"We need a discreet way to communicate, then," Harry announced after a moment. "And what did the aurors want, anyway?"

"That is none of your concern." He hardly wanted to reveal that he was the auror's prime suspect at this point in time. The boy didn't need any more stress on top of what had already been a difficult term.

"Yes, it is."

"Do not answer back to me," he said, raising his voice slightly, taking even himself by surprise. "You've got an essay to be getting on with."

"You're really not going to tell me what happened with the aurors?" Harry asked, acting as if Severus hadn't given him a clear instruction.

"I will not repeat myself."

"If it was the other way around, you would want to know."

"You are fourteen and you do not need to know everything. Concern yourself with fourth-year charms," he said, summoning Harry's books and letting them land with a loud thunk on the table, making him jump back in surprise.

"I know they suspect you."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because something important is going on and you won't tell me," Harry retorted, ignoring the books that had fallen haphazardly in front of him.

"You know enough to be getting on with. Drop it," he ordered and when Harry made to reply, he lost his temper. "You are pushing your luck." He took a deep breath and attempted to rein in his anger and exhaustion. "I have been remarkably patient with you, even as you were foolish enough to reveal to your friends that you are not with your relatives when I specifically forbade it. I will not tolerate you disobeying me again."

"I needed their help because of your Slytherins. I had to tell them," Harry replied, all traces of his earlier contrition and apology gone.

"Out," he growled. "Leave. You are exhausting," Harry seemed taken aback at the dismissal and sending his own scathing look at the books Severus had summoned on his behalf, he stomped out the room, slamming his door shut behind him.

He lapsed into a brooding silence, stretching his legs out for better balance on the rickety chair. He ought not to be so transparent that the boy could see he was withholding information. In truth, he wasn't holding back anything more than his own anxiety. He was frightened, something he hadn't felt in more than ten years.

Proving his innocence would have Harry taken from him and if that were to happen then the boy would have no one, no training, no occlumency, no potion, no guardian... If the aurors became convinced of his guilt he would be taken from the boy and still he would have no guardian or protector. He would be far worse off than before and he would have broken his word; the child would certainly go back to his relatives.

He would not tell the child how precarious their situation had become. He could not add another burden onto those shoulders, not when he knew how heavy it would feel amongst all the others.

It did his nerves no good to have Harry so combative so soon. Aside from trying to work out who in the castle had tried to kill him, teaching the child occlumency and catching him up in his school work, he had intended for the next two weeks to be somewhat bearable. He’d hoped it would go some way to making Harry feel less insecure about his place in his home, but that endeavour was failing miserably.

He was itching to take his anger out on the lengths of tinsel hanging across the furniture. Incinerating the lot of it would certainly ease his frustration but he'd no doubt regret it the following morning, not to mention it would be slightly ridiculous to demand Harry choose more decorations merely because he'd enjoyed seeing the last lot burn.

H.P.

He missed Spinner's End. Despite its worn and admittedly bleak appearance, it was Snape's house and there was something he'd found oddly comforting about going back there over Christmas. He knew Snape didn't actually like being there though, so for his sake maybe it was better they'd moved. He could imagine how horrible it would feel to have to live in Privet Drive when he thought he'd be well shot of it.

Though if Snape was enjoying the change of scenery, he wasn't showing it. He'd been surprised the evening before when he hadn't followed him back to his room to hurl his textbooks at him, or at least make sure he got some work done.

That morning, Snape's expression was as grim as he'd ever seen it, and it took a moment before he acknowledged Harry's presence, nodding over a partially unravelled roll of parchment that required all his concentration.

His attempt to slink away unnoticed with his bowl of cereal did catch his attention, however, but instead of mentioning the argument from the evening before he was barking orders about shopping in the muggle world. It occurred then to Harry that he should have realised sooner and escaped quicker; it wasn't as if Snape always wore muggle clothes during the holidays.

It was no wonder he was in such a foul mood if he had that in mind, and Harry's hopeful suggestion that he just forget about the whole thing looked set to turn into yet another argument, so he figured he'd better let that one go. Snape seemed intent on wasting yet more money on things Harry didn't need, which he suspected was his way of making a point about being a guardian, or having enough money, or maybe even some twisted punishment for insulting him by offering to pay his own way. With Snape you never knew.

"This is not going to take all day; you are not going to dither like last time," Snape warned, stomping around the kitchen. He dropped the parchment on the counter by the sink and it caught Harry's eye as it twisted and sealed itself shut with a snap. He turned back to face Snape as the breakfast dishes rearranged themselves in the cupboards with a worryingly loud clatter.

"I wasn't even that bad,” Harry said around a mouthful of cereal. “I let you buy me stuff even though I hated you. No offence," he added as an afterthought, careful to keep his tone neutral. It would do no good to set Snape off while he was so on edge, especially considering that he planned on keeping Snape in a good enough mood that he might be able to get some sort of information out of him. He couldn't help but wonder what Snape could have been reading that had him so preoccupied.

"None taken, I couldn't stand the sight of you. My point is that you aren't going to be difficult," he announced, crossing his arms sternly over his muggle shirt and looming over Harry. "You're getting clothes, you're getting Christmas decorations and we're getting whatever you need for your room."

"You're making this trip sound like a great time. I'm really looking forward to it," Harry replied sarcastically, marvelling at how Snape could make shopping for Christmas decorations sound menacing. "Where are we going anyway? I know we aren't going to muggle London."

"It hardly matters, every muggle shopping establishment is the same," Snape sneered. His refusal to tell Harry even the slightest detail grated on his nerves and he was tempted to be petty and refuse when Snape summoned him over to set his glamour. The Potions Master extricated his wand with some difficulty from the sleeve of his thoroughly ordinary muggle shirt and gestured in a manner that had by now become familiar. A moment later he felt his glamour take hold. "No arguments today, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Severus," he replied, smothering a smirk as the man struggled to get his wand past the button on his cuff. Snape wasn't giving him credit where it was due, not only was he expecting him to be fine with a whole day of shopping, but he'd just bought a house, an actual house because of him and since he'd woken up, he hadn't said a thing about it.

S.S.

Harry held on tightly to Snape's arm as they apparated back home. He wasn't keen on apparation at all, even if it was more convenient.

"I don't think Dobby had gone anywhere. Ron found him when you were busy taking a million points from Gryffindor," Harry said, continuing their conversation when he was sure he wasn't going to throw up. He got the feeling Snape was trying to find another reason to tell him off when he started asking about what Harry was doing the night of the Yule Ball.

"The idea isn't that he's visible by your side at every moment.

"Yeah, I know, but Moody made it sound like he was missing, so I was worried. I figured if I called for him in the hall and he didn't come then everyone would know he was missing."

"Moody? What did Moody say to you?" Snape interrupted, pausing in the process of opening the front door.

"I don't know," he shrugged, pushing the door open and slipping past Snape into the house. "Something about needing to keep an eye on him. I didn't know what he meant so when I couldn’t see Dobby, I was worried. He was probably there the whole time and Moody was just pulling that whole 'constant vigilance' thing he does." When he turned back, Snape was still holding the door open, staring at Harry. "Sir, are you all right?"

"What is wrong with you?" Severus seethed, slamming the front door suddenly. For someone who hated shopping, he had been in relatively good humour all day. Harry suspected that was just because he was enjoying winding him up or that he liked having a new set of people to rip to shreds everywhere he went.

"I don't know, but I'm guessing whatever is wrong with me is making you mad."

"I'm angry because you just mentioned, only now, that you were leaving the Yule Ball because of something Moody said to you. What possessed you to keep it to yourself?"

"I wasn't keeping it to myself. You got me distracted with that seventy points from Gryffindor rubbish. Why didn't you just ask why we were trying to leave?"

"You do not have the utter cheek to imply that it is my fault you withheld important information. You know damn well that I'm trying to find out who has been attempting to murder you," he replied, snatching the forgotten shopping bags roughly from his grasp.

"I wasn't withholding it."

"Sit down," Snape interrupted. He pulled out a chair for Harry to sit on, banging it noisily away from the table with such force that it fell over. Harry was surprised it didn't collapse completely when Snape righted it with a slam. "Write out everything that happened that evening, exactly what happened. Then you can write out every unusual interaction you've had with that lunatic, and that includes him casting unforgivable curses on your class."

He slunk tentatively into the seat with a barely audible sigh, not entirely trusting that it would take his weight after the abuse Snape had just subjected it to. He was gripping one of the kitchen chairs opposite Harry so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"What do you need it written out for?" Harry thought to ask as he was about to put quill to parchment. "You're not going to try to get him fired, are you?"

Snape levelled him with a dark glare, too intense for him to tolerate, even after all the practice he'd had over the last three and a half years, and he dropped his gaze back to the parchment to scratch out what he could remember about the evening of the Yule Ball.

"Why do you hate him so much? Just because he used to be an auror?" he asked quietly, this time not looking up from the table as he broke the silence.

"That is an overly simplistic interpretation."

"Why, then?"

"A number of reasons, none of which I care to discuss with you." Harry was tempted to put down his quill and not write another word at that. There were quite a few things Snape didn't care to discuss with him any more.

"It's a bit convenient that the one person you hate most is the number one suspect, but when I suggest it might be the actual person who attacked me, I'm being irrational," he dared to grumble as he wrote out in detail the moment Snape took seventy points from Gryffindor without bothering to ask why they were leaving the hall, or who they'd been looking for.

"It is your safety that is first and foremost in my mind. Don't you dare imply otherwise," he chastised, seeming so offended that Harry immediately regretted his words.

He thought he had a lot to deal with, but he supposed it was practically nothing compared to what Snape had been doing for him throughout term. He took multi-tasking to a new level. It was no wonder Snape was a bit off, but this was a bit dramatic even for him. At least while he was here with Snape there wasn't anything for him to worry about. Really, Snape ought to be a bit more relaxed now that he was home for Christmas. It was pretty unlikely someone could try to kill him while he was here.

On the other hand, maybe he was being incredibly arrogant thinking that Snape's mood was all that dependant on what was going on with him. Yeah, it was a massive inconvenience for Snape to have to keep searching for whoever was trying to kill him now that the tournament was over, but who was he to assume that Snape was worried just on his account? He could just be annoyed because he thought Harry was wasting his time by not telling him things he reckoned were important.

"Write, Potter," Snape snapped suddenly, banging a hand on the table and upsetting his ink pot. Harry pulled back from Snape and the spreading pool of ink. Snape didn't intimidate him, not really, not any more, but even so... He put a little more distance between them. He definitely wasn't in one of those moods where you could say no and get away with it.

Angry as Snape was, he can't have overlooked that they'd be better off using a pensieve, so Harry thought better than to open his mouth and risk winding him up even more. He flinched as something appeared in the corner of his eye while he wrote down what was said the night he'd met Moody under his invisibility cloak. He flushed when he realised it was only the pensieve settling beside him on the table, and that Snape had begun to deliberately keep his distance, hovering a few paces away.

Once he was certain he'd written everything Snape could consider important, he slid the parchment across the table, but the man had disappeared. He returned a few minutes later, holding Harry's confiscated snitch. The mad idea crossed his mind that he'd brought it out to be sadistic and break it right before his eyes, but he simply held it out and placed his wand alongside Harry's temple, waiting for his nod.

Harry stepped out of reach as the last strand fell into the bowl and they watched it settle in silence. Harry didn’t say anything in case Snape went mental again. Moody was evidently a touchier subject than he'd thought.

"It occurred to me that I'd had that for long enough," Snape commented softly, as if to make up for his earlier anger, watching the snitch beat its wings between Harry's fingers. "We've got enough grounds here for you to fly. You'll feel the wards; don't go past them."

Harry took his broom and one of his new jumpers and shut the door behind him in relief. There was a horrendous chill in the air, but it was better to be out than in and he could do a good enough warming charm to keep the worst of the cold at bay. He hadn't even noticed before now that frost had formed over the grass, making it look like a Christmas scene from the front of a card, one of those that ought to have a robin with a scarf on it and a roof covered in snow.

He hummed what he knew of an old Christmas carol as he let his snitch take off. He swung his leg over the broom and took off, flying as high as the wards allowed.

S.S.

He would kill him and not with a simple Avada Kedavra. He knew spells that would make losing an eye and a chunk of his nose look like minor bruising. Practicing illegal curses on children, advising Harry on how to tackle the dragon when it was against the rules, this interaction about the elf. How could he have been so blind? The man wasn't just a raving lunatic; he was actively trying to kill Harry. He was certain of it, absolutely certain of it.

Watching the memories had only convinced him further. It had to be him, and it made sense that he would use Draco. It was almost as obvious that Moody despised Draco as it was that Severus had hated Harry.

He could quite easily go to the castle and confront the man, curse him until he confessed, then curse him until he didn't have the will to beg for mercy. He gripped his wand tightly.

Through the window, he caught a glimpse of Harry as he hovered on his broom, half-heartedly messing around with his snitch. All thoughts of murdering Moody instantly evaporated. He was trying not to get arrested, so he would need a less... satisfying course of action. He needed to convince the headmaster and have that man in Azkaban before Harry returned to Hogwarts. He'd be damned before he let the boy return to the castle with that madman on the loose.

He scratched out an urgent letter to the headmaster and attached Harry's notes. Tempted as he was to hunt the headmaster down personally, he forced himself to use owl post and think more like a Slytherin and less like a hot-headed Gryffindor. Being surrounded by so many of them must be rubbing off on him. Although, certain traits obviously weren't catching. He didn’t want to be the cause of the wary look that had been on Harry’s face before he’d sent him outside. His grand plans to spend a pleasant Christmas with the boy were unravelling in the face of his temper.

H.P.

He looked down, catching sight of Snape leaning against the back door, watching him as he flew. He made no attempt to call him or get his attention, so Harry carried on flying, testing how high he could get before the wards kicked in. The moment he did land on the ground, Snape advanced on him, wand drawn. "I'm a Death Eater. I either want to kill you or capture you. Defend yourself."

"Have you gone mental?"

"Give me your broom; my funds aren't going to stretch to buying a replacement Firebolt," he said, sounding a lot more like himself, which was only marginally reassuring. "Defend yourself," he repeated, snatching the broom with one hand and with the other sending a well-aimed stinging hex.

Harry hissed in pain before drawing his own wand and backing away from Snape, ready to dodge should he cast another hex, but unwilling to let go of his snitch in case he didn't get an opportunity to catch it again that evening. Snape moved fast, but he was barely trying. The Potions Master sent a volley of silent stinging hexes his way, forcing him to throw up a barely effective shield as he rolled out of the way, getting himself tangled in the long grass.

"Weak, Potter," Snape called out as Harry scrambled onto his feet, tripping in the weeds. He didn't reply, Snape would shoot down any excuses he made, focussing instead on dodging. He hopped stupidly to avoid a hex aimed at his foot, but got blasted on the hand as he tried to throw up another shield.

He got hit quite a few more times before Snape let up. He was bent almost double, clutching a stitch in his side and grumbling quite a few choice words about evil, sadistic professors. He hadn't asked Snape to stop though, not once, which he was more than a little proud of. "Shield charms aren't going to be effective against the unforgivables or any other creative curses sent your way."

"I don't know how else to defend myself other than to run away and I can't go past the wards here."

"Then fight back. If I don't have my wand, I cannot hex you." As if Snape was going to let him just hex him back and get away with it. Harry stomped inside, barely feeling the cold after spending half an hour running and jumping all over the grass outside. He rolled up his sleeve, and there were a few raw marks where Snape's hexes had been unexpectedly strong.

Snape motioned him over to inspect the damage himself and handed over a salve for the burns. He took his hand though, seeming particularly interested in the grazes that had accumulated over his skin. "You wanted to learn to heal?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, suddenly a little less irritated about the abrupt training session and Snape's rather worrying mood swings.

"This spell is only useful for cuts, not bruising. If the cut is deep and you aren't successful, you'll hurt yourself when the skin fails to bind and tears open again." That was probably the grossest way Snape could think of to put it, but Harry nodded eagerly. "You won't abuse this knowledge, or hide your injuries from me, or repeatedly heal things without telling me what happened."

"Why?"

"Because I need to know who's hurting you or how you're managing to injure yourself."

"Half the time it'll be quidditch and it's not like I tell you now every time I get hurt."

"If someone has to heal you then I can know when you've been injured. What I don't want is you covering things up or trying to heal things you cannot handle. Yes, sir, are the words you're looking for."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, having a hard time not rolling his eyes.

Snape had him practice the incantation and wand movement so many times Harry was certain his grazes would have healed themselves before he let him have a go.

"Concentrate," Snape warned. Harry did concentrate but it was harder than it looked and his scowl grew more pronounced each time his skin pulled back instead of binding together. The more he failed, the worse it seemed to get until the skin was even bloodier than it had been before he'd started, and Snape pulled out his wand and did the job himself. "Getting frustrated does not help your concentration."

Harry shrugged, annoyed at himself for not managing to heal such a small set of cuts. "Sir, I don't think it's Professor Moody."

"Then it is a good job that it is my opinion that counts and not yours."

"There's no motive. It doesn't make sense."

Snape leaned back in his seat and studied Harry. "Were you aware that your arrival into the wizarding world was awaited with anticipation by a great many of the Dark Lord's followers?"

"Yeah, so they could try to kill me."

"Draco Malfoy tried to befriend you when he realised who you were, did he not? Why do you imagine he wanted to do that?" It was odd to hear Snape ask that without making it sound like he couldn't fathom why anyone would want to befriend him.

"To make it easier for them to get me later, or as a joke or something."

"A hilarious joke that would make. You were an unknown quantity, Mr. Potter. You killed the Dark Lord as a baby and then you were removed from the wizarding world. There were rumours circulating amongst The Dark Lord's followers that you could be a far more powerful replacement."

"That's ridiculous."

"Obviously. You aren't incredibly powerful; you're completely average."

"Thanks, Snape," he replied sardonically. "What's all this got to do with Moody?"

"He would have heard every single one of those rumours and likely the rest of your ridiculous endeavours, the stone, the basilisk..." he sneered.

"That was all luck though," Harry protested.

"He wasn't there," Snape barked. "He doesn't know what was luck and what was not. What he does know is that you can resist both the imperius and the killing curse and you've faced and beaten the Dark Lord on another two occasions."

"So you think he reckons I'm some sort of dark wizard in training?" Harry replied doubtfully.

"He might not reckon anything. The man is paranoid and unstable; there may be no rational explanation for the attacks. Based on your memories and your interactions with him, he is the most likely culprit."

"Why didn't he kill me that night when I was under my invisibility cloak?"

"Because you were in the tournament at that point and if he entered you into it then he did it for a reason."

Harry hummed in reply, not sure what to say that wouldn't set Snape off. "What's for dinner?"

S.S.

This was utterly, utterly foolish. He wasn't certain if that was the case because he wasn't accustomed to making gestures worthy of a Hufflepuff or because it truly was an awful idea. He couldn't trust his own judgement; his idea of 'doing what was best' for Harry alienated him and left him with no one to confide in when he needed someone the most. His best hope lay in trusting the muggle text and the knowledge that whoever wrote it knew a significant amount more than he did about parenting.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, hovering beside the door as Severus directed furniture out of his room.

"Come here," he demanded, electing not to answer the question until Harry had joined him. The room was bare except for a pot of paint in the centre of the floor and a couple of muggle paint rollers. Harry glanced around dubiously as if he could detect some sort of trick or deceit. It didn't bode well for this endeavour if Harry was already doubtful, especially when he had his own concerns about following the suggestion of a muggle text.

"You want me to paint the muggle way?"

"We're both doing it," Severus corrected him, rolling up his sleeves.

"But... why?"

"Considering your abysmal grades this term, perhaps I think you could benefit from learning a more practical trade."

"I thought you were just buying all this stuff to wind me up or make a point. I know you can do all this with magic," Harry challenged him, making no move to get involved and appearing not to appreciate Severus' attempt at humour.

"I don't buy things merely to provoke you, no matter what you may think. Not any more, at any rate," he amended, recalling the dress robes. "We're doing it this way."

"It won't be dry by tonight. I'd have to sleep in the living room."

"I'll dry it with magic," Severus countered impatiently.

"You'll dry the paint with magic and you'll move all the furniture with magic, but we have to paint the muggle way."

"I don't appreciate your insolence, especially considering I'm giving up my afternoon to do this with you," he replied coldly.

"I just want to know why it's so important we do it this way," Harry insisted stubbornly.

He hardly wanted to reveal why he thought it was so important he follow this piece of advice in particular or where he had gotten the idea. The fact that he was reading muggle texts on parenting adopted children would no doubt make him feel uncomfortable. Then again, there was no conceivable lie he could think of as to why he had a sudden interest in interior design.

"It's a gesture," he answered stiffly.

"Oh," Harry replied, flushing red all of a sudden and scuffing his shoes against the floor self-consciously. "If this is about the Dursleys–"

"I read that it is important," he interrupted matter-of-factly. "And, in light of how you have been treated by me and your relatives, I agree that you would benefit from someone making an effort to make you feel at home."

"I do feel at home...It's not important anyway, not with everything else that's going on."

"It's important to me. I'm the guardian here and your emotional wellbeing is my responsibility."

"Seriously, stop." Harry screwed up his face in disgust and looked ready to cover his ears with his hands.

"No. I know very well that I hurt you when I allowed Draco to stay in your room."

"Not because it was my room! He tried to kill me and I was the one who wasn't allowed to talk to you or stay with you. He got to live in your bloody quarters."

"Because of circumstance."

"I live with you because of circumstance!"

"You live with me because I want you here. I'm willing to spend an afternoon inhaling the poisonous fumes of this toxic muggle substance, doing manual labour, to make you feel like I want you in my house. And I have to endure ridiculous arguments about whether or not I like Draco more than you. Dear Merlin, Harry!"

H.P.

An alarmed look flashed across Snape's face all of a sudden. "We'll finish this later," he said, with a vague gesture that encompassed Harry and the room in general before stalking over to the fireplace and taking a pinch of floo powder. Harry followed him but didn't get very far before Snape rounded on him, some of the powder slipping from between his fingers and making a crescent shape on the carpet where he had whipped around. "Do not follow me. Under no circumstances are you to come through. Are we clear?"

"No, what's going on?" Harry replied stubbornly. What was with Snape and this new secrecy thing? Whatever was going on was obviously important. He told him about the prophecy, he even spoke about the fact he used to be a Death Eater, so he should be able to tell him about whatever was going on now.

"If there is an emergency floo to Lupin's or Hogwarts or the Weasleys. I'm leaving your potion here, take it if you need it. I'm waiting for a 'yes, sir'."

"No."

"If I cannot trust you, you'll go to Lupin's until I'm done. Trust me, Potter, I'll make you go," he warned when Harry opened his mouth to respond. "'Yes, sir'," he repeated, fixing Harry in his stern gaze.

"Yessir," he mumbled and Snape, seeming content with that, threw down his floo powder and vanished from sight.

Not a second later Harry had his own pinch of floo powder ready to fling into the grate. He hesitated. He could work this out; he didn't need to be Hermione to figure out what was going on, though if she was here, she'd already have told him what it was and what he should do about it. Snape had bought this house because of his run in with the aurors, he'd said as much when the holidays had begun, and now Harry couldn't floo through, even if he needed Snape. That was different. Snape had always insisted he had to administer the potion.

It couldn't be Death Eater stuff; it had to be to do with the aurors. Maybe Snape had called them over to tell them about his Moody idea. Either way, that put an end to his plans to follow him through. He didn't want to risk that he'd get taken away from Snape even if he was bursting to know what the man was trying so hard to keep from him.

S.S.

He strode to the front door in five swift steps, swinging it open in the middle of a series of over-amplified knocks that were reverberating through the small house.

"Am I to assume there's been no progress in your inquiries and you're here to harass me instead?" he growled, towering over a small auror who looked as if he'd joined fresh out of Hogwarts.

"I'm Auror Wendon and this is Auror Hoffley," he announced quickly, his tongue tripping over the syllables. "We've been assigned to search your property, due to... er–" he trailed off, giving a terrified glance to his partner who took over the explanation, unfolding an official document and reading verbatim what was written.

"The suspect has refused the reasonable request of veritaserum and as such the department of aurors are within their rights to search his or her property." Auror Hoffley nudged his glasses higher on his nose. "If the suspect refuses, he or she will be placed under two charges; the first, one count of–"

He'd heard enough. He abandoned from the door in the middle of the auror's monologue and settled himself onto the couch, watching the young one in particular. He'd feel more than satisfied if the nervous auror was terrified at the mere thought of coming to his house, but he wouldn't be surprised if one or the other of this idiotic pair was asked to plant something suspicious for the other to 'find'. Whoever sent them would know very well that there would be nothing relating to Harry's attack in his home. There was nothing to find, short of checking wands within days of the attack there is nothing material to link anyone to the crime.

"If you, uh, agree to take veritaserum then we won't need to search the property," the younger auror bravely offered under Severus' dark glare, hesitating at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Get on with it," he dismissed. "I have more important things to do than watch two incompetent aurors sorting through my cupboards."

By chance, his gaze landed on the mantel where an envelope lay waiting. As if they had in turn been watching him, the aurors turned their attention to the envelope as well, but Severus was quicker, summoning the envelope with the merest twitch of his wand and not allowing the smallest flicker of relief to pass over his face as he saw that it was addressed to him as opposed to Harry.

"We're going to need to see that."

Severus,

I didn't want to disturb you but you should be aware that Draco's memory was of little use. I will keep it in my possession for a few more days if you would like to see for yourself.

As for your last letter, I do not believe that what you sent to me is sufficient evidence. I would advise you not to let your dislike of the man interfere with the investigation. To answer your question, I requested Dobby the elf's presence during the Yule Ball.

Happy holidays,

Albus

"Evidently I do too, or it would not have been addressed to me," he replied, replacing the letter on the mantel.

He would like to see those memories for himself. He had every intention of searching for Moody within them and he was certain that he'd find him. And when he did, Albus would not be able to dismiss him so easily. He would not send Harry back, or even Draco, if it meant that they would be in danger.

"The department of aurors are co-ordinating the investigation," auror Hoffley said from behind his laughably thick glasses, his eyes repeatedly scanning the letter as if he believed that if he looked hard enough there would be something incriminating to find.

"And a terrific job you're doing," he deadpanned, scowling as Auror Wendon, while hovering boxes out of the attic, sent one crashing into a wall, spilling the contents across the staircase. "You're to clean up after yourselves," he ordered, giving Auror Hoffley a look that dared him to refuse.

He'd give them something to arrest him over, if they came back to his house. There was nothing in his house that could have any possible relation to the incident at Hogwarts and well they knew it.

"What happened?" Harry asked before he'd even swept the ash from his cloak.

"Nothing that concerns you." He stalked past where Harry stood, balancing awkwardly on the bed that he'd left in the middle of the living room, the better to reach the top of the Christmas tree over which he was throwing shiny lengths of tinsel.

"If it concerns you then it does concern me," Harry answered, disentangling himself from the decorations and following him through to the kitchen.

"We aren't discussing it and I have no desire to argue with you again." He slammed open and shut the cabinets searching for tea leaves.

"It's about the aurors or the attack, isn't it?" Harry guessed and Severus cursed loudly, half out of anger and half because his summoning charm had sent the leaves careening into an open cupboard door, spilling them all over the floor.

"How many times must I tell you something before it penetrates that thick skull of yours? Go back to your damned tree."

H.P.

"I'm not a child, Severus," Harry began indignantly.

"That is exactly what you are, and a difficult one at that."

"Yeah? And you're a right ray of sunshine," he returned sarcastically, arms crossed. Snape stared at him for a moment looking as if he might literally explode with rage and Harry had a hard time not stumbling back when he raised his wand.

"Accio calming draught." He took a long swig and gave him an appraising glance. Harry tried to school his features, slightly ashamed at the rate his heart was beating. "I don't want to see that look on your face when I raise my wand."

"You don't tell me anything, you know," Harry chanced to complain now that he knew Snape might be more disposed to listen. "Not just about now. I know barely anything about you."

"That's an exaggeration. I certainly do tell you things," he said with a pointed look, as if to say 'you haven't forgotten about the prophecy so soon' and Harry nodded to show he understood. "And there is nothing to tell you now," he continued, jabbing his wand sharply at the mess on the floor so that it shot into the bin. "The facts remain unchanged and you do not need to hear the details."

"But I want to know what's going on," he insisted, slumping in defeat onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"And I want you to remain blissfully unaware," Snape replied, his voice hard and impatient. "It is my job to worry about the details, not yours. And I certainly have discussed my past with you."

"I didn't mean the Death Eater stuff," Harry rushed to clarify. "I meant I don't know about you, when you were my age."

"Your past is relevant, mine is not."

"So you're not going to tell me anything? And you think I'm going to tell you anything else," he scoffed, working himself into an indignant temper. "I let you tell the Malfoys that my only family couldn't stand me, I let you pry into my memories whenever you want, and you don't trust me with anything."

"I do not tell you the things you want to know, which is not the same thing. There certainly are things that you know that I would ordinarily rather people didn't," Snape answered, beginning to make his tea again the muggle way.

"You didn't tell me about how my dad used to treat you; Sirius did."

"Perhaps there are things that I do not want to discuss," he replied, his tone turning bitter so that Harry almost regretted bringing it up, but his attitude got on his nerves. "There's loads I didn't want to discuss; I didn't want you to know I lived in a cupboard or that until I went to Hogwarts I'd never had any friends. And you still say I need to tell you more."

"And you don't, you avoid the issue."

"What's there to tell? You've seen it. I lived in a cupboard Severus, I didn't like it, I knew after a while that normal kids had their own room and I didn't deserve one. I knew I was in there because they didn't want me and I was just taking up space."

"Stop. Enough," Severus interrupted quietly, but with force. "You cannot buy information from me with your own. I will not tell you everything because it is not in your best interest to do so. I do not want you to share things with me like this, not in anger. I said that you could always ask your questions, did I not?"

"About being a Death Eater. I wouldn't just ask you about your family, not when you said your childhood was rough and I can't ask you about when you were at Hogwarts because it was my dad and his friends who were picking on you then."

"I didn't mean that your questions had to be about the time I spent as a Death Eater," Snape denied. "You can ask whatever you like, whenever you like. That doesn't mean I will always answer. Neither of us need answer any question that is too intrusive," Snape said, leaving the kitchen to drink his tea in the living room. "I see you've finally located the silver and green."

"Yeah, well they’re Christmas colours. It would look pretty stupid only in red and gold," Harry replied as he followed him through, dodging his desk which had been left jutting awkwardly in the way of the door.

Snape nodded at the tree and Harry resumed his place beside it, kneeling awkwardly on his mattress and resumed tossing decorations haphazardly from top to bottom.

"All right then." Harry had quite a few questions he'd like to ask if he had free reign, but he chose his words carefully, not sure yet what Snape would consider too intrusive. He could tell that the man wasn't fond of Spinner's End but he knew better than to ask outright for that story, not when he knew so little about Snape or his childhood. Then there was the matter of his family; it was as good a place as any to start.

"You said your mum was a witch, so you're a half-blood like me?" He pointedly kept his gaze away from Snape, concentrating on decorating the tree.

"Not like you. Both your parents were magical even if your mother's bloodline was not."

"But you lived at Spinner's End? Even though your mum was a witch."

"We did," Snape confirmed haltingly as if he wanted to continue but was having difficulty finding the words. He drilled his fingers into his cup. "It is the house my parents bought before I was born, and they lived there until they died."

"I meant, why did you live there when your mum was a witch?" He stopped himself from asking too much more, like why he had barely anything magical in there at all. The Weasleys weren't exactly well off and they had loads of magical items in their house. Almost everything at Snape's was worn and mugglish.

"She was a pureblood witch who married a muggle. There aren't many pureblood families who take kindly to that type of union; the Weasleys are an exception to the rule. She wasn't welcome with what was left of the Prince's, had that even been an option, and so we lived there."

"That was her name? Prince?" Harry asked, trying to imagine that name in connection to Snape. "I've never heard of the Princes."

"I don't doubt that. Her name was Eileen."

It wasn't lost on Harry that Snape was avoiding any mention of his father, but this wasn't information he would entrust to just anyone.

"She was disowned just for marrying a muggle?"

"It's not an uncommon stance for a pureblood family to take. She squandered away the future of the Prince's bloodline, dishonoured it even, and for what?" Snape sneered. Harry wasn't certain if he was speaking on behalf of the Princes or himself.

"Your scar isn't bothering you?" he asked suddenly, no doubt noticing Harry rubbing his forehead. He was probably also trying to change the subject but that was okay.

"No, it's fine." Surely something should have happened again though, especially after the failed attempt on his life. After all, he wasn't that good at occlumency. He said as much to Snape.

"There could be any number of reasons why the Dark Lord has yet to try anything."

"But what do you think?"

"I think that if he isn't trying to hurt you like this then his mind is bent on finding another way, which is far more worrying. I'd prefer it if you erase this last ridiculous enterprise from your mind," he said standing up and glancing at the furniture scattered around the living room. "And I'd also prefer it if you got off the bed before I send it back to your room."

"Where did you read it?" Harry asked, hopping down. "You said before that you read this was important."

"A muggle book, which explains its abysmal failure. We’ll decorate your room the wizarding way. What is the benefit of an attacker wanting to capture you as opposed to kill you?" Snape asked, changing the subject again to something he was more comfortable with.

"Uh, you get to live a bit longer... I was joking; that's not my answer. I guess it's easier to escape because they won't want to risk killing you in a fight."

"Good. I'm a Death Eater who wants to kill you. One hit and you're dead, and woe betide you if I manage it in less than ten minutes. Wear a coat," he called out as Harry made to go out in the garden as he was.

Snape caught him as he came through to Spinner's End. It looked messier than usual, which was odd considering no one had lived there since the summer. He was about to say so when Snape clicked his fingers irritably under his nose.

"I'll bring you back home tonight. If your scar hurts or you need me, I'll be here, but send Lupin through, not Black and not yourself. Don't even firecall me yourself."

"You're not going to tell me why, are you?"

"What do you think? I mean it, Harry," he said severely. "If anything happens and you want to come home then Lupin still needs to come through first."

"I get it. Don't come through."

Snape regarded him suspiciously for a moment, probably trying to work out how likely it was that he would obey him, before relenting and taking stock of the texts he'd left on the shelves at Spinner's End.

"Behave yourself," he said as Harry threw down the floo powder.

"Merry Christmas!" Sirius greeted him jovially as he stumbled out of the grate.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he replied, returning a quick hug and trying to hand over his card at the same time.

It looked like Christmas had exploded in Remus' living room. Tinsel was draped off shelves and bookcases and was tumbling haphazardly from a massive tree that took up almost a third of the room. The ceiling was covered in hanging decorations and someone had charmed fake snow to tumble and whirl gently around them.

"The charm's a bit much," Remus commented.

"No, it's brilliant," Harry replied. "It's like being in one of those snow globes." He held out his hand and the little flakes dissolved into nothing or spun back up into the air as if blown by an invisible breeze.

"We're doing Christmas a day early. You can at least have a proper Christmas with us before going back to Snape."

Harry ignored the slight against Snape and grinned at all the food laid out across the dinner table. "We aren't going to be able to eat all that!" Though it wouldn't be for lack of trying.

"We skipped breakfast to make room," Sirius said looking almost as delighted as Harry, but after twelve years in Azkaban, another year on the run, and now living in a cave, a table all laid out with turkey, roast potatoes and stuffing would be heaven.

"We called in a favour and borrowed one of the elves from the castle to make the food," Remus explained, turning on a wireless radio not dissimilar to one the Weasleys had. A Christmas song that Harry didn't recognise played faintly in the background. "We're not eating now anyway, presents first."

He was sent back to the living room to settle beside the huge tree which couldn't have been magical since there were needles littered all over the floor.

"How did you get this in here?"

"It wasn't this size originally; Sirius spelled it bigger," Remus said and rolled his eyes. For a change he didn't look tired or ill so it must be nowhere near the full moon.

"I wanted to do Christmas properly," he said, not looking at all apologetic.

"I'm sure at your house or in James' this size was normal, but it doesn't fit here."

"You had Christmas with my dad?"

"Your grandparents took me in when I was a bit older than you, sort of adopted me as a second son," he explained, sending packages zooming out from under the tree towards them.

"Oh..." he knew it was rude and he most likely had no business asking but he found that he really wanted to know why he'd needed adopting.

"I ran away from home. My family and I disagreed on a few fundamental issues. The Potters on the other hand, they were great. There weren't better people than your grandparents..."

"Stocking first," Remus interrupted, handing what looked like an actual massive sock over to Sirius so that he could then give it to Harry.

"Thanks, I think. You know this isn't the first old sock I've gotten as a present," he said, a little embarrassed to be made such a fuss of. "Did my dad's family use to do stockings?" he asked reaching inside and pulling out a box of every flavoured beans that should never have been able to fit.

Sirius looked thrilled to have been asked and launched into a detailed description of exactly how the Potters did Christmas, down to the Yorkshire pudding and twinkling lights that were charmed over the roof, and all the while Harry pulled out an assortment of oddities from inside the long sock. Soon he was surrounded by his every-flavour beans, chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, liquorice wands, a whistle which made a different noise every time you blew it, a trick key which vanished and reappeared in a different pocket every time you reached for it and a little pot of multicoloured ink.

Harry felt bad that all he'd given them was a card and they'd gone and gotten him a load of presents, but neither of them would hear a word of it. He didn't press the point, especially when it was so obvious how much it meant to Sirius, and if Snape's reaction to his complaints was anything to go by, all he would end up doing is offending both of them.

S.S.

Albus didn't move from where he sat, watching Severus from over his half-moon spectacles with a calmness that was beginning to grate. He'd taken to pacing the room in his agitation. Draco's memories confirmed exactly what he'd expected – Moody was visible in the memories almost the whole time, and he'd made no effort to rush to Harry's aid when he hit those stairs. At the time, he hadn't noticed how close Moody had been to the boys, but in the pensieve it was clear.

"They sent aurors here." The headmaster's eyes became a fraction more sympathetic but his next words weren't as conciliatory as he would have hoped.

"Are you certain these accusations aren't merely an attempt to shift attention to Alastor?" the headmaster replied, brandishing his letter. Severus couldn't read more than sad disappointment in his features.

"That is what he has done. He has accused me of a crime I did not commit and, despite all the evidence I have, you refuse to even entertain the idea that it could be him."

"Severus, this is not evidence," he said, placing Harry's notes on the table.

"We have gotten nowhere in the last two months. This is the closest thing to a lead that we have."

"I fear that you're becoming sidetracked..."

"Ask Moody for his memories," he demanded, changing tack. "He was present almost throughout Draco's, so he will have seen something we can use."

"I think you know that he would not freely give up his memories, not even to me." He knew what Severus was attempting to do and it was apparent that he did not appreciate it.

"Whether I'm right or not, he may have seen something. He spouts that 'constant vigilance' line of his so much I'm surprised he could claim to have missed someone imperiusing a student right before his eyes! What right does he have to refuse, to put Harry's life in danger, for the sake of his paranoia?"

"Very well, I will ask," he replied heavily. "But the likelihood is that he'll refuse just like you refused. It is your right, and it is his."

"What does he have to hide?"

Severus refused to part ways without passing on Harry's memories. If Albus could just see his interactions with the man he could possibly be convinced that Moody was not in his right mind, not that it would be a great improvement even if he was.

"Yours hasn't been the only interesting letter that I've received of late," the headmaster declared suddenly, handing him another envelope. Severus' curiosity was piqued the moment he laid eyes on it, recognising at once that it was from a muggle. He couldn't contain the smirk that spread across his face as he scanned the contents. "I asked you not to do anything to them."

"I did nothing; they brought all this on themselves. If you must, tell them I've agreed to remove the curse," he sneered contemptuously.

"We may well need that family in the future. I would appreciate it if you didn't terrorise them."

"They deserve far worse than this; if I ever see them again–"

"You will not," the headmaster interrupted, ending the conversation firmly.

H.P.

"Albus says they're having no luck finding whoever is trying to hurt you up at the school," Remus said, levitating a plate of roast potatoes that Harry was having trouble reaching closer to him.

"Well, Snape thinks he knows who it is but I don't think anyone agrees with him."

"It's Snape investigating, isn't it?” Sirius asked.

"Not really. He's helping, but I think officially it's the aurors and Dumbledore. You don't know anything else, do you?"

"Like what?"

"When we were at Hogwarts it looked like the aurors thought Snape had something to do with it, but he won't tell me anything about what they said or what's going on now."

"If you think Snape had something to do with it–" Sirius interjected again, but Harry quickly cut him off.

"No, he didn't have anything to do with it; he couldn't have because he was with me just before it happened. I'm worried because Snape's worried, but I don't know how bad it is."

"I'm sure you shouldn't be concerned, but if it would make you feel better we can have a word with Albus and make sure that everything is all right."

"You'll tell me if you find out what's happening?"

"Of course," Sirius answered, though Remus cut him off. "We'll tell you if there's nothing to be concerned about." Harry opened his mouth to protest. Who did Remus think he was? He didn't get to decide what was best for him, not when he couldn't even be bothered to send him a letter all through term! He was distracted from his indignation when Sirius thrust a cracker under his nose.

"This isn't a conversation for Christmas Day. Cracker?" he offered with a mischievous grin.

Harry had experienced his fair share of wizarding crackers but didn't want to ruin it for Sirius, so he pulled on it, not expecting much more than a bang and perhaps a little mouse to escape. Instead, there was a jingling of bells and a cascade of freezing cold snow shot out of the loser’s end, followed by a pointy carrot.

"Oh my God, that's freezing," Harry shivered, laughing.

"I think I'll pass on mine, if you've had a hand in all of them," Remus replied, handing his back. He gave Harry a once over with a drying charm as he flicked snow out of his hair.

Harry was practically giddy with excitement by the time Snape came to pick him up. He'd gathered all his presents in a bag, and took as many mince pies as he could fit in two hands to eat back at home.

S.S.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the child look so delighted as he stepped into the winter wonderland scene they’d created in Lupin's front room. He was beaming as if he'd never passed a better day in his life, though he was most likely affected by the sheer amount of sugar he'd ingested by the look of the wrappers and cakes strewn about the room.

Lupin made an awkward attempt at conversation as Harry said his goodbyes to his godfather, who he could tell was making a concerted effort not to be affected by Severus' presence. It was none too convincing, and Harry's face fell slightly as he looked between them, though it wasn't clear what he found most objectionable, the tension between himself and his godfather, or the manner in which Severus had silenced Lupin's effort at small talk.

He found himself irritated by the situation. He'd felt smug when he'd arrived; he was the one who had Harry for Christmas. Much as Black might have wanted the day with him, Harry had asked to stay at home. His stomach had sunk considerably after catching a glimpse of the child's expression. Black and Lupin had obviously gone to some effort to give Harry a pleasant celebration with clearly successful results.

He had the rather absurd idea that he had wanted to win Christmas and that was looking a lot less likely. It didn't sit well with him that Harry would be disappointed the next day after spending Christmas Eve with his godfather. Not to mention the fact that this pair of imbeciles obviously knew exactly how to make Harry happy and his own futile attempts had ended up in nothing more than arguments and awkward exchanges.

"What did you do today?" Harry asked cheerfully as he tried to offload a handful of mince pies onto Severus.

"I met with the headmaster." He didn't miss Harry's surprise that he answered his question. Fortunately for him, there was no use hiding his suspicions about Moody. It would be impossible to protect him from a danger that he was completely unaware of.

"Harry said you had some ideas about who attacked him?" Lupin interrupted.

Severus wasn't so proud that he would refuse to have Lupin and Black on his side, not when it came to this. He produced Harry's notes from the inside pocket of his robes and handed them over.

"Alastor... You can't be serious?" Remus replied incredulously.

"There is already a crime worthy of life imprisonment in Azkaban written in those notes." Severus said, casting a finite on the absurd snow charm.

"Aren't you taking it out of context?" he replied, passing the parchment over to Black.

"Draco Malfoy was under the imperius curse when he attacked Harry and that is beside the fact that Moody is one of a handful of wizards in the castle capable of tricking the Triwizard Cup into taking Harry's name."

"This all sounds a lot like what someone who was trying to frame Alastor would say. I thought you were supposed to be trying to figure out who was threatening Harry, not using it as an opportunity to pick off your own enemies," Black challenged and Severus felt his blood boil. He didn't appreciate being made to look like a fool, nor the implication that he cared more about getting rid of Moody than looking for Harry's attacker.

"Don’t you dare imply that Harry is not my priority. What have you done for him?"

"I'm living in a cave!"

"And what a help you've been to him there, Black. Well done," he replied contemptuously.

"What have you done for him?"

"I took him in when he needed someone, and I'm teaching him to defend himself," Severus returned heatedly.

"Sir–"

"What do you know about taking care of children, the way you were raised? He's with you because he has no choice. We'll be lucky if you don't do him any more damage than those relatives of his," he replied, and Severus lost it completely. Forgetting his wand, he curled his fingers into a fist and launched himself at Black.

"SNAPE! Don't–" Harry cried, jumping between them and refusing to be budged.

"Sirius!" came Lupin's appalled tone simultaneously.

"Move," Severus snarled at Harry, even as the younger made a valiant attempt to push him back. Evidently realising that he wasn't about to physically shove him aside, Harry grabbed the front of his cloak with a near vice-like grip, making it impossible for him to reach Black.

"Get off," he growled.

"No."

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius. Apologise," Lupin said, coming to stand between them as well.

Severus stilled completely, meeting Harry's stubborn glare even as he held on tighter. He smirked slightly as he pulled out his wand, freezing his cloak beneath Harry's fingers, which were hastily retracted with a yelp.

"Argh, cold. Sir!"

Lupin was shoved aside as he made a grab for Blacks cloak, the better to send him crashing into the wall where his head connected with brick with an audible thud. "You know nothing, Black. When that boy is sick, he calls for me. When he's scared, he comes to me. He chose to spend Christmas with me." He yanked Black’s wand out of his grip before he could react and tossed it across the room. "I'm learning how to be a decent guardian all the time. I've learned that I can't kill you without causing Harry a small measure of grief, so I'm going to leave you intact." He allowed himself to give Black another vicious slam into the wall. "How I was raised has no bearing on how I treat Harry, is that clear?"

"Decent guardian," Black choked, baring his teeth in that ghastly laugh he must have developed in Azkaban. "That's odd, because Harry had a lot to say the other day about what a terrible guardian you are."

"I didn't say that."

"You're a child, Black, and a fool." He relinquished his grip on the man, trusting that Lupin would prevent him from doing anything foolish.

H.P.

When Snape turned to face him, Harry's eyes were still wide with horror.

"I didn't say you were a bad guardian. I was just annoyed because of the points and Malfoy, but I never said you were a bad guardian, I really didn't."

"Calm down. We'll discuss it at home," he said roughly, snatching up Harry's notes and the abandoned gifts, even as Remus had a brief hissed argument with Sirius.

"That really wasn't what I said. I don't think you're a bad guardian–" he continued, unable to let the matter lie.

"We'll talk at home, I said. Calm down. Moody's there, in Draco's memories before he attacked Harry," Snape said, looking back at Lupin as if there had been no interruption to the conversation.

Harry jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his back, not expecting the sudden contact from Snape.

"What does Albus think?" Remus asked, loosening his grip on Sirius' shoulder, but not without a last warning look.

"He's taken Harry's memories to study," he replied, and Harry guessed that he hadn't been as enthusiastic as Snape was at the idea of accusing Professor Moody.

"What do you think?" Sirius asked Harry, watching him intently.

"I think that I don't want to tell you what I think any more," Harry replied coldly.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken your confidence."

"All kids complain about their parents. If you tell him that stuff he won't want to be mine any more," he yelled, gesturing at Snape who tensed beside him.

"He's not your parent," Sirius returned heatedly. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but instead of saying anything flushed bright red, embarrassed beyond belief. Remus shook his head in the silence.

Luckily Snape took charge of the situation, giving Harry a push towards the fireplace. "Ask Albus for Harry's memories," he said to Lupin, tossing down the floo powder. "You trusted Pettigrew and that was a mistake. Don't be so foolish as to make the same error twice."

Snape caught him as he fell out of the floo at Spinner’s End and righted him quickly while Harry clumsily stumbled over his words, unable to decide between apologising for badmouthing him to Sirius or for calling him his parent.

"Stop apologising to me; I told you that you could speak to that pair of fools if you needed to."

"But I didn't say I thought you were a bad guardian."

"It is fine," Snape replied easily, grabbing more floo powder and throwing it down into the grate. "Tuck your elbows in and try not to fall over this time," he said waving at him to floo back to the new house.

Snape didn't immediately follow him through and as he waited he got more and more angry with Sirius. He'd said he would be okay about him staying with Snape, but instead he'd gone and done everything he could to ruin it. What if Snape decided he didn't want to be his guardian any more? What if he was weirded out that he'd gone and called him his parent? What if that was why he still hadn't come back home?

"I believe you're supposed to be cheerful at Christmas," Snape said, sitting beside him and stealing a mince pie. Harry jerked back in surprise; he hadn't even heard him floo through. "I have an amusing anecdote for you."

"Yeah?"

"The headmaster received an interesting letter from the muggle world," Snape said, stretching his legs out and balancing them on the coffee table.

"That's unusual for him then? Surely he has loads of muggle parents writing to him about their kids."

"Those parents know to use owl post. This one attempted to make its way to Hogwarts by muggle post." Snape had an odd look on his face, like he was expecting Harry to be able to guess where he was going with this.

"It wasn't from the Dursleys, was it?" he guessed, narrowing his eyes and scooting his legs up onto the couch. Snape raised his eyebrows in reply, as if to say that much was obvious. "It was?" he said, dismayed. "What did they want?"

"They wrote to tell you to calm down," he replied with a pointed look. "I said it was an amusing anecdote."

"Are you sure it was from the Dursleys then?"

"Oh, I'm quite certain it was. Do you remember that I had your aunt sign a contract allowing me to act as your guardian?" He looked weirdly proud of himself and Harry couldn't guess what the Dursleys could possibly have said that Snape would find funny.

"Vaguely..."

"Your relatives wrote to the headmaster with quite a list of complaints. To name a few, apparently your uncle has suffered something of a demotion at his job, your cousin is failing at school and your aunt has developed some sort of odd muggle condition. They were desperate enough to write and ask if the headmaster would release them from the curse I put on them."

"You cursed them?"

"No."

"I'm lost now."

"I was incredibly tempted to curse them, as you can imagine, but I had given my word to the headmaster that I wouldn't do them any harm. I merely pretended to curse them," he shrugged, reaching for another of Harry's mince pies.

"Then what about all the bad stuff that's happening to them?"

"Power of suggestion. I told them their lives would take a turn for the worse. They've created their own misfortunes or else it's merely a coincidence. Your relatives are so frightened of magic I knew they would believe in the curse."

Harry couldn't help smiling because Snape looked incredibly proud of himself. "Sir, you have a really weird sense of humour. But thanks."

"I'm glad you appreciate it because the headmaster did not."

"Sir..." He wanted to say he was sorry he'd ever spoken to Sirius about him and that his godfather was wrong, he was doing a great job being his guardian. He was a million times better than the Dursleys, and Harry did know he wasn't his parent but sometimes he wished, well he had no business wishing anything, not on top of all that Snape was doing for him already.

 “Can we watch a Christmas film?” he said instead.