This cannot go on any longer, Severus decided, as he glanced over at Harry currently brewing across the table from him.

It had been nearly two weeks since that Diagon Alley incident and Harry had been much too quiet and reserved, always keeping to himself in his room after these potions lessons and only venturing out for meals. It was as though his son was doing his best to be invisible, which greatly disturbed Severus to think that Harry felt the need to stay hidden in his room all day. Every time Severus checked up on him, his son would reply with the same short, infuriating response: I'm fine. Obviously, he was not. It was rather frustrating, but Severus knew that was stemming from his concern for the boy. He certainly didn't want to force Harry to speak about his problems when he wasn't ready, but he'd let this go on for too long.

"Dad?" a voice called, snapping Severus out of his thoughts.

"What is it now, Kieran?" Severus asked, turning his attention towards him.

"Can you come look at my potion?" Kieran asked, scooping a small amount of potion up with his ladle. "I think I may have added too many drops of Horklump juice."

Severus inwardly sighed, charming his stirrer to finish stirring his potion for him before making his way over to Kieran's side. This was the third time Kieran had called him over since they'd begun brewing. The boy had been begging Severus to let him join in these sessions, and Severus had finally relented today. Just for today though. Normally, Severus would have Harry in the lab with him after breakfast and then it would be Kieran's turn after lunch, or more often, Severus would spend some time flying with the boy instead.

It didn't escape his notice that Kieran had become increasingly clingy recently. The boy had taken to being with Severus almost constantly. Even when Severus worked in his study, Kieran would settle on the settee, working on his summer assignments or just reading a book he'd picked out from the library, which was strange considering Severus had never seen his son being so studious before.

Severus hadn't really thought much of it until now. Then again, between the work that he must complete before term begins to the usually separate potions sessions with his two sons, Severus rarely had time for anything else these last several days.

"Did you have a difficult time understanding the instructions?" Severus asked, peering down into the boy's cauldron. The potion was a murky brown, far from the dark blue it was supposed to be at this point. He raised an eyebrow at Kieran. "I believe the recipe calls for three drops."

"I know— I just accidentally added a few too many," said Kieran with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You need to pay more attention to what you're doing, Kieran," Severus chided, taking a stirrer and examining the potion more closely. "Fortunately, the potion is still salvageable... Tell me, what would you need to add in order to counteract the extra drops of Horklump juice?"

Kieran tapped his fingertips on the tabletop in a rhythmic pattern, brows drawn together in thought. Before his son could answer, however, Severus heard a loud sizzling noise— he whirled around and saw Harry backing away from his overflowing cauldron, the potion bubbling menacingly. With a quick draw of his wand, Severus cast a shield charm around the cauldron just in time to contain the imminent explosion.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Severus asked, immediately making his way over to his son.

Harry blinked and gave a short nod. "I'm sorry sir, I added too much Valerian root powder," he said, frowning down at the remnants of his potion. He sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. "I really didn't mean to ruin the potion."

"It is no matter," Severus replied lightly, vanishing the ruined potion with a flick of his wand.

After taking a closer look at the boy, Severus knew there was definitely something wrong. This was just unlike him. Harry had brewed this potion perfectly just a few days ago. He had been making remarkable progress recently, showing a hidden talent for potion making and even displaying genuine interest in the subject as well, which was rare in most of the students he taught. Severus had come to realize that these lessons were the only time that Harry appeared to be content and mostly at ease. It never failed to make Severus' chest burst with pride whenever Harry's diligence resulted in a perfectly completed potion. His son definitely had potential that he didn't show— or wasn't allowed to show— in class before, and Severus had felt a pang of guilt, knowing very well who's fault that was.

But today, something just seemed off...

Was his son not getting enough rest? Was he still having nightmares?

Severus noted the slightly slumped shoulders, and the weary, distant look in those green eyes.

"You seem distracted today," he commented. "Is there something on your mind?"

Harry gave him a long look before shaking his head. "It's nothing. I suppose I'm just a bit tired today."

That was definitely an understatement, Severus thought, the boy clearly appeared more than just a bit tired. The faint dark circles beginning to form beneath his eyes certainly indicated otherwise.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" Severus asked quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Any nightmares?"

His son stiffened. "No, sir. I'm fine."

Severus frowned. "Are you certain?"

Harry just nodded.

No, his son was most certainly not fine, but Severus wasn't going to let it go this time.

He made a mental note to speak with the boy later today.

Harry pushed his lunch around his plate, occasionally taking a bite here and there, but not really having much of an appetite. Distantly, he could hear Kieran and Clarice talking, though he could care less what they were saying.

He was bloody exhausted.

Especially after last night, Harry didn't think he had managed to sleep at all. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would begin, wreaking havoc on his mind, and he'd jolt him awake again. He had given up trying to fall asleep altogether after that last one. He'd felt a twinge in his scar, but it only lasted for a few seconds so he didn't think much of it. He was used to the pains from his scar by now anyway. But these sleepless nights were taking a toll on him, especially considering he had mucked up his potion today. The first potion he had ruined since they started these lessons.

Maybe he should ask his father for a Dreamless sleep tonight...

But his father had been rather busy lately, and shouldn't be needlessly bothered by Harry having silly nightmares.

"Our annual trip to France is coming up, Severus," he heard Clarice saying. "You have agreed to join us."

Harry glanced up at that, wondering what she was talking about. They're going on a trip?

His father shook his head. "I'm afraid I won't be in attendance."

"But dad, you promised you would go!" Kieran said, sounding rather disappointed.

"I believe I said I would consider it," said Snape.

"Why can't you come with us?" said Kieran, frowning at his father. "It's supposed to be our first vacation together."

"If this is about the boy, you can always leave him with Dumbledore," Clarice said, her icy blue eyes flickering towards Harry before they settled back on Snape. "Why let him ruin our family vacation?"

Harry glanced hesitantly at his father, the conversation quickly reminding him of when the Dursleys would discuss what to do with the boy while they were away on their family vacations. They never minded where he was left at, as long as he was out of their way.

"I plan on continuing my lessons with Harry. He is my son, after all," Snape said, his dark eyes flashing. "And I would rather not waste my time on a pointless vacation when there are more important matters at present."

"It's not a pointless vacation, Severus," Clarice said, looking affronted. "It is an annual tradition that Kieran and I visit our extended family every year before the start of term. You are supposed to come along and meet them."

"Perhaps next year then," his father said dismissively. "Go ahead without me."

"Be reasonable Severus—" Clarice began, seeming unable to accept his decision. "You have been teaching the boy every day for the past week, don't you think you need a break from it all before having to teach classes again?" She paused, expecting a response, but when Snape didn't offer one, she continued, "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't mind taking over and relieving your burdens—"

"Enough!" Snape snapped, startling both Harry and Kieran. "I believe you have overstayed your welcome, Clarice."

Her features shown blatant disbelief for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"

"I will not allow anyone to call my son a burden in my home," Snape intoned, leaning forward slightly, his voice soft yet cold and brittle around the edges, eyes hard like black marbles. His father's glare was so potent that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she had caught fire then and there.

Clarice seemed to backtrack, belatedly realizing she may have crossed a line. "Of course not, Severus, I was merely implying—"

"No, you have said enough, Clarice." His father leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly against his chest. "I want you to leave."

There was a tense silence, no one daring to move a muscle. Clarice seemed to have been stunned speechless. Harry thought she was doing a rather decent impression of a human statue.

A moment later, she cleared her throat, the shock seeming to have melted off her face, leaving behind the usual cool expression.

"If that is what you really want..."

"It is," Snape said coldly, giving a curt nod, an inscrutable mask back on his face, though Harry could see still see hints of the anger underneath it.

"Very well then," Clarice said tightly, then she turned to Kieran. "Finish your lunch, Kieran. We will take our leave straight after."

Kieran, who had been staring down at his plate, looked up with a jolt.

"What?" Kieran bleated, looking back and forth between his mother and Snape. "Why do I have to go too? Can't I stay here until we have to go to France?" He shifted to look fully at Snape, seeming to look for support. "Dad?"

Snape gave a short nod. "I have no objections to—"

"No," Clarice cut in sharply. "I think it's best if we leave earlier for the trip."

"But why?" Kieran protested. "We're not supposed to leave until next week. Why can't I stay with Dad?"

"Because I said so, Kieran," Clarice said sternly, leaving no room for arguments. Her eyes flickered down to Kieran's plate. "Are you finished?"

Kieran didn't answer for a moment, glaring down at his plate as if he wished all the food would turn to ash, then pushed it away with a bit too much force. "I can't eat anymore."

"Go to your room and pack your trunk, then," Clarice told him. "You won't be coming back before term begins."

Kieran opened his mouth as if to argue, but snapped it shut before any words came out. His glare then shifted to Harry as if all this was somehow his fault before Kieran pushed back from his chair and stalked out of the room. Clarice soon followed.

Harry lowered his eyes to his plate, still trying to process what had just happened. He didn't know what to think of it. He hasn't seen his father this angry in a long time, and startlingly, the man had been angry on his behalf.

And had his father really just told Kieran's mother to leave... because of what she said about Harry?

There was a warm glow that appeared briefly at his father's words, though it didn't last long before he felt the little bit of lunch he'd eaten settle like lead in his stomach.

She wasn't exactly... wrong. In a way, there were some truths to her statements...

Don't you think he's putting too much strain on your life... You deserve a break, after so many years of spying...

Harry really didn't want Snape to miss the vacation with his family just because his father had to stay with him. Over the last few days, he'd watched his father with Kieran and Clarice from his bedroom window, feeling as if he was back in his cupboard and gazing out through the slits on the door at yet another happy family. He didn't want to intrude, knowing that was a family that Harry could never hope to be a part of.

And maybe that was for the best. He didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of him.

The boy is too much trouble for what he's worth... Dangerous to my family...

A few hours later, Harry was in his room, settled in a comfy armchair with a book about concealment charms open on his lap. He was trying his hardest to not fall asleep, wanting to keep himself as busy as possible, hoping that his mind would be too exhausted to conjure up the usual nightmares.

It was a losing battle though, his eyelids beginning to feel heavy.

He was drifting...

"BOY!"

Harry flinched, jolting out of the armchair when he saw Uncle Vernon standing in the middle of his room.

How did Uncle Vernon get in here? Where was—

Before he knew it, a sharp crack whipped through the air and Harry felt a sharp pain shooting up his back. He gasped, turning to see Uncle Vernon gripping a large leather belt in his meaty hand.

"I lost my job because of you, you no good freak!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his teeth bared. "Nothing but a burden to my family!"

Harry scrambled away as quickly as he could as another lash came his way. As he tried running around him, Uncle Vernon grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards.

"Oh, no you don't! You can't escape this time!" 

Harry couldn't help but shudder at the hissing quality Uncle Vernon's voice suddenly held. His uncle laughed menacingly, the sound sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Another crack of the leather, and Harry clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the sharp sting of the belt, but it never came. 

"Harry!" a familiar voice shouted suddenly. 

He opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. 

The scene had changed.

His friends. Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys. 

All of them laid at his feet, staring up at him. 

Eyes blank, empty, lifeless...

"How many more people will die because of you?" a voice hissed silkily, the words plunging through Harry's heart like a knife. 

Harry tried looking away, but he just couldn't. It was as if an invisible force was holding his head still and preventing him from doing so.

No... It was just a dream... It had to be...

"Crucio!" 

Torturous screams followed, somewhere to his left.

Harry jerked his head towards the sound.

It was Snape. 

His father's sallow features were paler than usual as he writhed in agony on the ground, a pool of blood seeping through the man's robes. Multicolored curses flown from every direction, each one seeming to hit their target.

"A rightful punishment for a traitor," a soft menacing voice hissed. "Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

No no no—

Suddenly, Harry made eye contact with his father and the panic and terror he saw seemed to swallow him whole.

"Harry..." 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

A flash of green rushed past him, speeding towards Snape.

"No!" Harry shouted, futilely trying to reach his father before the curse did.

It hit directly into Snape's chest.

Harry fell onto his knees beside his father, his trembling hands clutching at the man's robes.

"No, please..." Harry's breath hitched. "Dad..."

Those obsidian eyes that were usually like dark tunnels full of hidden emotions, now appeared empty, staring unseeingly back at him.

Your fault. Everything is your fault.

Harry...

All you do is get people killed.

Harry!

"You cannot escape it, Harry. Everyone you love will die..." 

A cold voice was laughing distantly.

"No!" 

And then everything exploded in a brilliant white light.

Harry woke screaming, his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage and his chest heaving as if he had just finished running a marathon. There was a fierce burning in his scar, and he was shaking so hard, he could almost feel his teeth rattling. He rubbed away the tears that had been sliding down his cheek, blinking furiously to clear his blurry vision as he glanced around the room. It was fairly dark now, just after sunset from what Harry could tell. The book he had been reading had fallen to the floor beside him.

But then something at the other side of his room caught his eye. Harry could barely make out a figure...

His breath caught in his throat.

It was... his father, slumped against the opposite wall, unmoving.

A million thoughts raced through Harry's mind.

What happened? Was he hurt? Did I do this? Had his father been trying to wake him? 

He could vaguely recall someone calling his name... Right before he woke up...

Shakily getting to his feet, Harry crept towards his father. He had to choke back a sob as the images from the nightmare came flashing to the forefront of his mind. It was as if his nightmare had come true...

Harry couldn't even tell if Snape was breathing or not— he just seemed to be too still.

Please be alright... Please don't be dead...

His fingers fumbled around his father's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he found it, bounding beneath his trembling fingertips.

"Da... S-sir?" Harry said hoarsely, shaking the man's shoulders lightly.

When no response came, Harry shook his father harder. Finally, Snape opened his eyes slowly, but once his father saw him, his eyes widened in alarm. He quickly pushed himself up and gave a slight groan, rubbing the back of his head.

"Harry?" his father said, dark eyes looking him over. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm so sorry sir," Harry said hastily, scooting away from the man. "I didn't mean to— I-I don't what happened..."

He didn't stop until his back hit the front of the armchair, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them as he tried to control his trembling. The echoes of his nightmare were still ringing in his ears, and Harry buried his face in his hands, in a futile attempt to stem the tears from flowing.

A moment later, Harry sensed Snape kneeling in front of him and a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. He heard his name being called, but Harry just couldn't bring himself to look up at his father.

"It's all right, Harry," he heard Snape murmuring. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe here."

Harry shook his head slightly, exhaling a heavy breath.

No, it wasn't. The nightmare had seemed so real and was entirely possible, which made it all the more frightening.

And I had just blasted him back into a wall... I could have seriously hurt him...

Everyone gets hurt being around me...

Harry felt warm hands gently taking his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, and hesitantly, he raised his head.

"Harry?" his father said softly, black eyes peering at him with unconcealed concern.

The same dark eyes that had been so empty and lifeless...

Harry acted without another thought— he threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms around him and praying that he wouldn't be pushed away. For a moment, Snape stiffened, but then his father's strong arms embraced him back, bringing them both upright as one hand caressed the back of Harry's head. Releasing a shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Harry buried his face in the comforting darkness of his father's robes. The faint scent of herbs and spices surrounding him seemed somehow... familiar, as if it was part of a distant memory.

And the terror from the nightmare seemed to be gradually trickling away.

Was this what Harry had been missing all these years? This was what it felt like to be comforted after a nightmare?

Harry couldn't remember ever experiencing this overwhelming feeling of warmth and safety before. The feeling of his father's arms surrounding him and the slight pressure of long fingers gently carding through his hair was like a soothing balm to lifelong wounds.

He would stay in this moment forever if he could...

But wasn't he too old for this? He shouldn't be needing this—

With a sad sigh, Harry reluctantly pulled away from the warm embrace, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, then dropped his gaze to his trainers.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to... act like... this," he said in a small voice.

How pathetic—

"It's only natural to want comfort after a nightmare, Harry," his father said, not seeming bothered at all by Harry's childish behavior. He kept a hand on Harry's shoulder, and asked, "How long have you been having these nightmares?"

"I guess... ever since I got back," Harry muttered, then hastily added, "They're usually not that bad though."

"Hmm... I beg to differ," Snape said, looking unconvinced. "You look exhausted."

Harry looked away.

His father gave a slight sigh before he said, "Why did you not tell me?"

"Didn't want to bother you," Harry whispered, fidgeting with a loose thread on his trousers. "I've always been able to handle them myself."

Snape's lips thinned, and it looked as if he was trying to hold back a scowl. "You shouldn't have needed to."

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to be more of a burden than I already am."

His father frowned, dark eyes studying him for a moment before they landed on his scar.

"Your scar is inflamed... Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching up and gently brushing Harry's fringe away from his forehead.

Without waiting for Harry to respond, his father held out a hand and summoned a small jar of blue salve. Harry stayed silent as Snape examined his burning scar and gently applied the cool salve, the pain immediately lessening as the salve began to take effect. After banishing the jar, his father led him over to the couch in front of the fireplace. Harry sat and watched Snape light a fire, brightening the room with a warm glow, before his father took a seat beside him.

Snape grasped Harry's chin gently between his forefinger and thumb, turning his head so that Harry met those dark eyes. "Listen to me Harry, you are not, nor will you ever be, a burden to me." His father's voice was firm, but his eyes held a strange glittering.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, feeling a rather large lump beginning to form in his throat. He wanted to believe his father, but how could he, when his whole life, he'd been told the complete opposite. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat and trying to speak around the lump.

"Even with all the problems I cause you and your family?" Harry asked thickly, his gaze settling on the flickering flames of the fire. "She's right, I suppose... I can see why she hates me, and I understand—I mean— I know I'm dangerous to be around, and maybe it's better if—"

"Stop right there," his father interrupted his rambling with a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry drew in a trembling breath, then slowly turned towards him.

"You are not causing problems nor are you dangerous; there are simply events that are beyond your control. Nothing that has happened so far is your fault," his father said, an intense expression crossing his features. "And quite frankly, I don't give a damn what Clarice thinks, and neither should you."

The hand on Harry's shoulder tightened.

"You are my son, Harry," Snape said fiercely. "You belong here, and absolutely nothing will change that."

A tear slid down Harry's cheek as he blinked up at his father, but he wasn't aware of it, still trying to process all of the man's words.

"Really?" Harry rasped.

"Yes," his father replied, his features softening as he briefly cupped Harry's cheek, lightly brushing away the stray tear with his thumb. "I want you here, Harry, and I will say this as many times as I need to."

Harry finally let all of his father's words sink in, that unfamiliar warmth washing over him again, spreading from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. His chest felt less tight, as if a weight has been dislodged and he could finally breath again. They were words that he had always wanted to hear, but never had the courage to ask for and somewhere along the way, had almost given up hope that he ever would.

He had been telling himself that he was fine— that he was more than able to take care of things himself as always, but the truth was that he just wasn't. He was tired of pretending all the time— tired of bottling everything up and acting as if nothing was wrong, until he was fit to burst with all the indescribable emotions he'd kept locked away inside of him.

But there had been always something keeping him from completely trusting adults. Harry had realized early on that trusting came at a cost. Everything could possibly change in an instant and he would have been better not trusting in the first place.

This time though, there was such conviction in his father's tone that Harry felt the walls surrounding him with doubt and mistrust finally beginning to crumble down around him.

Severus watched the emotions play across his son's face, seeing the effect his words were having on the boy.

He knew Harry needed to hear them from him. The boy still thought of himself as a burden, and Severus wanted to rid his head of that notion. It didn't matter how many times Severus needed to repeat them, as long as the message got through.

It was good timing on his part, having just watched Clarice and Kieran floo away, and then deciding to check on Harry. After that blow up at lunch, Severus had been determined to speak to the boy the first chance he got. It was for the best that they left. Severus need to focus on Harry, and he realized that with them here, he couldn't very well do that.

The first thing Severus saw as he stepped foot into Harry's room was his son sprawled on the floor, mumbling incoherently and his limbs thrashing about. Severus couldn't even begin to describe the sudden burst of panic that had rushed through him when his attempts at waking Harry were unsuccessful. It was disconcertingly similar to when his son had been under the effects of that curse, and Severus had swept those thoughts to the side. He heard Harry mumbling something that sounded strangely like Dad, but Severus didn't have time to think any more of it before a white, blinding light had erupted from his son, blasting him back into the bloody wall and knocking him unconscious.

Severus certainly needed a headache relief draught after this to relieve him of the incessant pounding in his head from the impact, but for now, there were more important matters concerning him.

He could have sworn he saw Harry's eyes turn red for a millisecond when they opened, just before Severus was blasted back, and considering his son's scar had also been red and swollen, Severus suspected the dream had something to do with the Dark Lord.

"What was the nightmare about, Harry?" Severus asked once the boy seemed to have calmed. He was glad to see some light returning in those green eyes. The nightmare must have been terrifying to have elicited this sort of reaction.

Harry took a long, tremulous breath before saying, "It started out like any other nightmare, but then it was like Voldemort was taunting me in my head... My scar was burning when I woke up." He raised a hand as if to rub the scar, but paused midway and let it fall when Severus shook his head in disapproval.

"Do your nightmares usually consist of the Dark Lord?" Severus asked, attempting to conceal his worry. He remembered Dumbledore telling him about a connection between Harry and the Dark Lord, but he didn't know how deep that connection ran. Apparently, Dumbledore had only briefed Severus on the bare minimum when the old man had urgently told Severus to teach Harry Occlumency last year. Perhaps it would be wise to start them again.

"Er, not really... they're usually of other things..." Harry absently began tracing the faint pattern on the arm of the couch with his finger and sighed. "But this time I saw my friends dead, and... I watched him kill you," he finished softly.

Severus' heart constricted painfully in his chest, and he was unsure of how to respond to that. After a beat, he cleared his throat and rested a comforting hand on his son's knee, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm fine, Harry. It was nothing more than a nightmare," Severus said, attempting to reassure him, even though it sounded rather inadequate to his own ears.

Harry gave a small nod, eyes shifting to Severus' hand on his knee.

"I think it's best if we restart your Occlumency lessons," Severus said after a quiet moment.

Harry grimaced. "I'm rubbish at it."

Severus knew his son was no doubt remembering the failed Occlumency lessons from last term, and he could admit that he had been unnecessarily harsh during those sessions. There was a pang of guilt in his chest as Severus remembered the callous way he had treated his son.

"I'm not unaware of my impractical methods before," said Severus. "This time, we will take it more slowly." He withdrew his wand, and waved it, conjuring a book: A Beginner's Guide to Occlumency.

"This should be very useful in helping you close your mind," he said, handing the book to Harry. "I apologize. I should have given this to you before."

Harry accepted the book and briefly flipped through its pages.

"Occlumency can also help control your nightmares," Severus said, slipping his wand back into his sleeve.

Harry brows furrowed briefly before he nodded and closed the book with a heavy sigh. His son leaned against him slightly as his gaze settled on the crackling flames in front of them.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" Harry asked softly, before cupping a hand over his mouth as a yawn overtook him.

Severus paused, a bit surprised at the unexpected question, and looked down at his son. "Occasionally, when the events are too traumatic and intense to suppress with Occlumency, such as after Death Eater gatherings for example," he answered.

"Oh," Harry said softly, shuddering slightly and peering up at him with concern. "I'm sorry, that must be awful."

There was that pang in Severus' chest again. How did he ever think this boy was self-centered and arrogant?

Severus shook his head and sighed. "Harry, I wish to know if you have any more nightmares," he said, draping an arm around his son's thin shoulders and pulling the boy a bit closer to his side. "I do not want you to suffer alone any longer."

Harry gazed at him with tired, glistening green eyes, a soft smile appearing on his features. His son didn't say anything to that, merely giving a small nod before he gazed back into the fire. They sat in a comfortable silence for a little while longer, until Severus noticed Harry yawning again, his eyes beginning to droop.

"You need some proper rest, Harry," Severus said, standing and bringing Harry up with him. "You look like you haven't slept in ages."

Harry blinked tiredly at him and muttered something indistinguishable, leaning against Severus as he was lead over to his bed. When Harry had settled himself under the covers, Severus called a house elf to bring him a vial of Dreamless sleep.

He stayed long after Harry's breathing had evened out, watching the steady rise and fall of his son's chest, his features now peaceful in sleep. Gently, Severus brushed an errant strand of hair away from his son's forehead then stepped away, extinguishing the fire before quietly leaving the room.