Sometimes, centering the mind and occluding was a great stress relief that Severus partook in often. With his eyes closed, he focused on the silence around him, an eerie quiet for such a large mansion. The wind outside occasionally announced its presence, and the white noise it created further pushed Severus into his meditative state. The frustration and anger he had felt earlier slowly evaporated into a deep sense of calm, clearing away his thoughts in a swirl of dark colors, blues and purples that washed away every negative emotion and thought from his conscience, leaving behind a starry night image. He felt lighter than air for a moment, and it was enough to relax him completely, leaving him feel collected and in control once more.

               He took a deep inhale, feeling the air wash his lungs, and then he exhaled slowly, cleansing the energy within him, his magic tingling just the slightest at the renewed vitality.  

               After a few minutes, Severus opened his eyes, returning to reality. He glanced around the bathroom he was sitting on the floor in, taking in the silvers, blues, and greens that flooded his eyes. He took a couple deep breaths once more, trying to maintain his meditative state. He was always able to think clearer after occluding and meditating, and maybe he’ll be able to come up with a solution to his dilemma now that he was refocused.

               Standing up, he stretched briefly then rinsed his face at the sink, using the hanging hand towel to dry himself before tossing it into the basket near next to the trash bin. The towel vanished quickly, most likely taken by one of the elves tending to the house.

               Severus stepped out of the bathroom, then retraced his steps to his mother’s study. She was no longer in the office, so Severus walked up to the desk and helped himself to the contract that sat patiently on the desk, a peacock quill in an inkstand to the right of the contract.

               Severus picked up the quill, feeling the softness of the feather before he pocketed it in an inner robe pocket. He then picked up the will, looking over the words on the crinkling parchment. Carefully, he put the will in a separate robe pocket before moving out of the office. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, but at least he had it to reference back to at any time. He’d take the afternoon to think it over; to read it over again and again if he had to, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He walked down the hall, passing a library as he did so. A quick glance inside informed him no one had stepped foot inside the library in a long time.

               Huffing, Severus decided he should keep an eye out for Harry. He followed the long, twisting hallways along the first floor. He paused to glance inside different bedrooms, peered around the little cozy nook under the stairs he came across, and then checked the bathroom in the large guest suite he found.

               The guest suite was a luxury, with a king-sized bed surrounded by large purple drapes in the back center of the room with a window wall adjacent to it, allowing sunlight to flood the room, and it illuminated the entire bed. There was a walk-in closet to the left of the bed and a desk with a lamp to the right. A vanity with several compartments and mirrors at all angles took up what remained of the wall near the walk-in closet. A cushioned window seat circled the window wall, and the view overlooked the stable and pastures.

               Severus ignored the view in favor of checking the ensuite. He found a bathroom fit for a king, with a double shower, a double vanity, and a toilet in its own little room. The tub that sat in the center near a window with the same view as the bedroom doubled as a jacuzzi, and it was big enough for six people. The tub was full, and steam was evident, and Severus noted a discarded pair of swimming trunks on a drying rack. He must have missed Harry by a few minutes, and obviously, his child was no longer heeding his order to stay on the first floor. Severus sighed and looked up, glancing out the window. His eyes narrowed.

               He walked out of the bathroom and to the large window in the bedroom.

               There was Harry, running over to the pastures where several of the Gorgobreds where romping in the green fields. Severus growled under his breath as he crossed his arms. Harry paused in front of the pasture where two foals were racing each other. He’s got to learn one way or another, Severus thought with a smirk.

               “Sonorus,” Severus muttered with a flick of his wrist in Harry’s direction. The charm was a sound amplifier, and he could hear his son as if he was in the same room standing next to him.

               “Here, pegasusses,” Harry called to the foals, standing up on the bottom rail and reaching over the fence, offering a hand. “Come here, pretty ponies.”

               While Harry tried coaxing the foals to come to him, the small, winged horses shared a mischievous look before one of them slowly walked over to Harry. It paused a few inches from the offered hand, sniffing carefully.

               “Good,” Harry said softly. “I won’t hurt you. Come on. A little more.”

               The foal snorted then lunged forward and snapped at Harry’s hand.

               Harry stumbled and fell off the fence, falling into the grass while the foals snickered, fluttering their undersized wings. Suddenly, a larger winged horse flew over to the foals, landing in between Harry and the younglings before letting out a loud, angry neigh, it’s ears flat against its head. The foals pushed their heads forward and clicked their teeth softly in submission before turning and galloping as fast as they could out into the field.

               The Gorgobred huffed and shook his mane out before looking back at Harry. The gold collar it wore around the withers reminded Harry who it was.

               “Oppilamani!” Harry greeted, standing up and stroking the winged horse’s forehead. Oppilamani enjoyed the attention, pushing his head into Harry’s hand.

               While Severus had watched Harry’s failed attempt at petting the foals, he also saw Eileen slowly walking across the field toward Harry, who had yet to notice her presence until she spoke.

               “You must be careful around the foals, Evans,” Eileen said when she was finally near enough to Harry to be heard. “They might be wizard-bred, but they are wild things until they start their training at two years old. The breakers will rein them in, then they usually have a change of heart towards people.”

               “What are breakers?” Harry asked.

               “Trainers. They train the winged horses to accept a rider and how to fly a course. We have some of the best around, you know.”

               “Cool. Oppilamani seems to really like attention.”

               “He is a showoff when he wants to be. The spoiled miscreant.”

               Oppilamani shook his mane proudly and stretched out his massive wings, the white feathers seemingly shining in the sunlight.

               “What keeps him and the others from just flying away?” Harry asked.

               “The wards on the property ensure they can only fly a certain distance away and only so high up into the sky. They receive a sharp zap if they try to push the wards’ boundaries, and trust me, they learn fast.”

               “Oh,” Harry replied as he scratched Oppilamani’s neck. Severus couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. Eloquent as ever.

               “So tell me,” Eileen began as she summoned and brush and directed Oppilamani to stand against the fence so she could brush the braids in his mane. Harry stepped closer and began undoing a couple braids himself, standing up on the bottom rail of the fence to reach the horse. “How are you and Severus faring?”

               “Okay,” Harry answered. “We just moved here this summer. He surprised me with it actually. I’ve made some new friends here too.”

               “Fascinating. Is it just you two?”

               “Yeah, it’s just Dad and me. Mum died when I was a baby, so I never knew her.”

               “Any other family on your mother’s side I might know of?”

               Careful now, Severus thought as he watched Harry’s face turn thoughtful for a moment. As private and prestigious as Eileen could be, she was also gregarious and likely to snoop. And if Harry gave out one wrong detail, he could blow his own cover. Severus amplified his charm a couple notches so he could hear what was being said a little better.

               “Err, mum was a muggleborn . . .”

               Severus breathed a sigh of relief.

               “I see,” Eileen said. She focused on brushing the winged horse’s mane for a minute before saying, “Your father was always interested in . . . muggleborns. I never understood the appeal.”

               “You married a muggle,” Harry stated bluntly.

               Severus winced at that, wishing he was close enough to smack Harry upside the head for that remark.

               “Yes.” Eileen flashed her eyes over at Harry. “And why do you think that was?”

               “I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly and thankfully, with a bit of remorse in his voice. “Dad never really talked much about you or his dad.”

               “Hmm, figures,” Eileen shrugged as she finished brushing out Oppilamani’s mane and moved back to unbraid the tail and brush that. “He was always a rather ungrateful child, just like his father. I married a muggle in spite of my parents’ pureblood traditions. Not that I am against the purity of magic, but they insisted I marry a suitor I absolutely despised. There wasn’t enough wealth in the world to buy me into that marriage, so I found myself a muggle who was at least charming, in the beginning anyway. My parents, your great grandparents, they were furious. Disowned me, then and there.”

               “Forgiveness is a funny thing,” Eileen continued. “They took me back in their dying days, renamed me heir of the estate and here we are. Now you shall be named heir of the estate. Well, your father first, then you.”

               “Really? I don’t know, Dad doesn’t seem to . . . “

               “Like me? It doesn’t matter, we are blood, therefore, family.”

               “Sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water,” Harry said, reciting what Severus had once told him.

               “Perhaps, but you can’t change blood. As my son, he has an obligated duty to care for his elders, myself specifically.”

               “You can’t force him to do that.”

               “I won’t need to. Blood will win, you’ll see. He’ll finally repay me for the care I had to provide him as a child. He was a rather needy child, always getting I his father’s way and trying to demand my attention away from important business.”

               “There’s business more important that your own child?” Harry gave Eileen a look of disbelief as he gave Oppilamani one final stroke down the forehead before the winged horse flew off.

               Severus closed his eyes, knowing what words were coming next. He heard them so often growing up, but even now, it still pained him to hear them. Not nearly as much as it did as a child, but still enough.

               “I never wanted children anyway,” Eileen said as she sent the brush flying back to the stable. She met Harry’s eyes as she said, “Severus was a mistake.”

               Severus opened his eyes in time to see Harry’s mouth drop. He watched Harry jump away from the fence and step back from Eileen.

               “Err, I think I need to use the loo. Where was that again?”

               “There is one just down the hall to your right if you enter the west wing door there.”

               “Thanks.” Harry flashed Eileen a smile before running back toward the manor.

               Severus cancelled the spell and started heading toward the west wing, hoping to catch Harry before he could find something else to distract him. Alas, the trip took a good ten minutes to reach the opposite side of the mansion, and he saw the bathroom Harry was directed to was empty. Sighing irritably, Severus kept walking in hopes he’d find something that could be of interest to a soon to be 12-year-old boy.

               It didn’t take him long to find an indoor greenhouse just a corridor away from the bathroom. The Princes’ had produced a fair number of great Potioneers that went down in history books, so a place to grow those ingredients on the estate did not come as a surprise to Severus. He slowly entered the greenhouse, amazed at the sight of flowers, grasses, small trees, and magical plants blooming like a jungle in the ballroom sized area. There was a stone pathway that weaved all the way around the room and in the center was a stone fountain. The stone was carved to resemble a peacock with its’ tail fanned out. Water sprouted from the peacock’s open beak and trickled down the layered stone wall into the fountain below. There were a couple sitting benches randomly placed in the room.  

Forget a curious pre-teen boy, Severus felt he could lose himself exploring the greenhouse. He already paused to admire the vibrant redness of the caladium leaves, touching the plant to feel its crispness. As much as he didn’t want any part of this estate, he would love to transport this greenhouse to his own. He wondered how many of these plants would tolerate transportation.

A sharp scuff caught Severus’s attention, and he glanced up in time to see Harry in the far back of the greenhouse reaching a hand out to touch a large leafy plant in a tall pot that appeared to be swaying—like a head checking out its prey.

“Harry, no!” Severus shouted as he tried to dodge around the many plants and the fountain to get to Harry, his wand pulled out of his sleeve and ready to fire a severing charm.

Severus’s shout startled Harry, who spun around to see Severus at the other end of the room. Large vines swung out and snapped themselves around Harry’s waist, and Harry yelped as the vines’ yanked him back toward the spiky part of the plant.

               Before Severus could hex the plant, it’s vines suddenly shriveled up and released Harry, dropping him to the stone floor.

               Portia, the small house elf, shuffled over to Harry, her hand still thrusted out toward the plant that shriveled away from her burn hex that dehydrated the plant. Severus sighed in relief but continued on his way toward Harry.

               “Is Master okay?” Portia asked Harry once the Venomous Tentacula no longer seemed interested in eating Harry or Portia. She peered down at Harry closely. “Is Master hurting?”

               “Just a little,” Harry said as he sat up and rubbed his ribs. “But I think I’m okay. What was that?”

               “That be a Venomous Tentacula,” Portia explained. “Carnivorous plant, it is, very dangerous for Master to be touching.”

               “Sorry,” Harry said. “It looked cool.”

               “That is certainly not an invitation to touch it,” Severus snapped as he finally reached Harry. “Risking your life simply because a plant “looked cool.” Honestly, I thought I’ve taught you better than that.”

               Harry blushed, but he still accepted Severus’s hand when it was offered, and Severus pulled Harry up to his feet. Portia wrung her large hands as she watched Severus give Harry a quick once-over for any scratches or punctures the plant may have caused. When Harry was clean of any wounds, Severus released him and glared down at his son.

               “I thought I told you to stay inside,” Severus growled.

               Harry swallowed as he realized Severus must have seen him outside.

               “Well, I was in the hot tub and I saw the winged horses in the pasture and I guess I just thought . . .”

               “That you’d disobey me? I do not know this estate or what surprises it might hold for us. Clearly.” Severus eyed the Venomous Tentacula pointedly.

               “I was just exploring,” Harry said. “Besides, Portia was there to help.”

               “Portia was not fast enough,” Portia said. She snapped her fingers and a short leather strap appeared in her hands, which she tried to give to Harry. “Portia must be punished for near failure.”

               “What?” Harry asked, stepping back from the offending object. “What is that? I’m not using it.”

               “I will,” Severus said, taking the strap from Portia, then he quickly swatted the seat of Harry’s jeans with it.

               “Ow!” Harry complained, rubbing his bottom as he angled himself away from Severus. “What was that for?”

               “Leaving the safety of the manor and disobeying my order to stay inside,” Severus said. He handed the strap back to Portia, who hesitantly took it. “You may put that back wherever you got it from. I’m not interested in strapping you. You saved my son from his own idiocy.”

               Harry glared at Severus.

               “Portia did not stop plant from grabbing Master. She must be punished for it.”

               “I disagree. I, myself, could not stop the plant from grabbing Harry and I was in the same room as him. Do not argue with me, Portia, and get rid of the strap.”

               “Yes, Master Snape, sir,” Portia bowed deeply and snapped her fingers. The strap vanished.

               “Is this how you are treated here?” Harry asked, absently rubbing at his bottom still. “You get strapped for every little mistake you make?”

               “Prince house elves must be perfect, like all else that be bred on Prince Manor: the winged horses, the Ural owls, the Venomous Tentacula.” Portia looked at the plant pointedly. She glanced around the room, then nodded as if affirming her own words. “Anything that comes from Prince Manor, it be perfect, or it doesn’t leave.”

               “Sounds like a lot of pressure,” Harry remarked. “But how can you be perfect? No one is born that way.”

               “I’s is.” Portia said. “Portia was selectively bred by Mistress Prince nine years ago. Prince elves must be petite and elegant but have big hands and feet for hard labor.” Portia looked down as she wrung her hands again. “Portia be too tiny and feet too small. Hands are perfect though.”

               Inbreeding, Severus thought with a disgusted face. He was sure “Mistress Prince” was in reference of his grandmother, not Eileen, and he was glad Portia and Outis would be the last of the Prince elves. He was sure he would have seen another by now if there were more working the estate.

               “That’s awful!” Harry said. “And I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

               “Master is very kind,” Portia said, her eyes watering and she sniffled. “Portia must return to work. Be safe, Masters.”

               With a snap of her fingers, Portia vanished.

               “I’m sorry for leaving the manor,” Harry said after a silent moment. “I had a really weird conversation with your mum.”

               “So did I,” Severus admitted, walking to a bench, and sitting down, staring at the ornate fountain. Harry followed him, sitting next to his father.

               “I know you don’t like talking about your parents,” Harry started, “but can I ask one question?”

               “You may ask as many as you wish,” Severus said. “I will answer what I deem appropriate.”

               “Was she a good mum?”

               Severus sighed and looked down at Harry.

               “I used to think that she was doing everything she could given her circumstances. But as I grew older, and had the opportunity to meet Lily’s mother, your maternal grandmother, I realized that Eileen was not a good mother at all. Mrs. Evans was kind hearted, attentive, made sure her kids ate a hearty meal each night, knitted them sweaters for the cold weather, and always put her kids before herself. Eileen was none of that. She put herself before me on many occasions, provided the bare necessities when asked, and did no more. But she never wanted to be a mother. She never hid that from me.”

               Harry frowned at that, then rested his head against Severus’s shoulder.

               “I’m sorry,” Harry offered.

               Severus snorted, wrapping an arm around Harry.

               “You have nothing to be sorry for. I certainly do not pity my childhood. I do have a decision to make, though.” Severus pulled out the will. “Eileen mentioned a disease that killed her mother. Turns out, that disease is hereditary. She asks that we come live with her in her final weeks, or months, or years, to care for her, and only then will we inherit the estate. If we refuse, we get nothing.”

               “Why would she want you to take care of her?”

               “To save her the humiliation of having some stranger, potentially muggleborn, caring for her in her final years. She also wishes to hide the disease from the other Pureblood families. Remember what Portia said about perfection? Everything from the Prince estate is perfect, and that includes the offspring. She fears there will be backlash if word got out that the Prince family carries a hereditary disease that only affects purebloods. Those who have had a Prince in their family might sue for false advertisement.”

               “They would really do that?”

               “It’s a strange world we live in, Harry.”

               The two sat side by side for several minutes, content in each other’s presence, listening to the fountain’s trickle and soil sifting from the slow movements of magical plants. Severus closed his eyes, reenforcing his meditative state he had manage to dive into earlier. He felt more at peace surrounded by the plants, feeling the magic from some of them while the fountain offered beautiful white noise. He could also feel the stirrings of Harry’s own magic next to him, and he welcomed the presence. Splashes of red and gold invaded his mind, but he smiled, nonetheless. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

               “What are you doing?” Harry’s voice penetrated the silence.

               “Meditating,” Severus said. “It helps with occluding and can strengthen your mind magic.”

               “Mind magic? Like . . . mind reading?”

               Severus opened his eyes with a sigh. He glanced down at his son who was staring up at him with a quizzical look.

               “Perhaps I’ll explain the complexities of mind magic when we are back in our own home.”

               “Are we going home? What about the will?”

               “I am not sure. I need to think about it a little more. But whatever I decide, it will be with best intentions for you first and foremost.”

               Harry smiled then rested his head against Severus’s shoulder once more.

               Severus ran a hand through Harry’s locks as he glanced down at the parchment in his hand. The weight of the quill tucked away in his inner robe pocket grew heavier the longer he stared at the crumpling parchment. There were too many wounds that could open back up so easily if he agreed to stay, yet what would Eileen do if he chose not to stay? She was the type to suffer through it alone until she could physically do no more, and he would feel awful forcing her in that position. For some reason, he could not seem to care less for her predicament, as much as he wished he could. And then he had Harry to think about. Harry didn’t need the toxicity that would surely follow with Eileen and Severus under the same roof.

               Harry’s eyes were closed now, and his breathing was evening out. Severus didn’t blame the poor kid; he had had a very busy day. Severus smiled and placed a kiss on Harry’s mop of hair. He had to do right by his son. At the end of the day, that was all that truly mattered.