~~~~HP~~~~

After dinner with the Malfoys, Harry found his emotions were all over the place coming into the week of the annual Midsummer's Gala. Inside of him was a raging tornado consisting of an unhealthy combination of anger over Hermione's situation, guilt for treating Severus the way he had been especially after the great night they had as a family after dinner on Saturday, nerves for his upcoming internship, and relief that somehow through all of it, things were settling into a decent, relatively easy summer routine. Their family dinners hadn't even seen as much aggression as they did before this past weekend, and while Harry was curious as to what was causing it, he also wasn't about to complain. As long as Severus kept acting as he had, Harry would follow suit.

As the week went on, the weather took a sour turn forcing Harry to stay inside and it showed no sign of lightening up. Being confined in the small attached house made the Gryffindor feel trapped, so to compensate for not being able to go outside, he spent as much of the day as possible sitting next to the window watching the angry clouds roll in; not too dissimilar to his own feelings inside. It was unfortunate that the town of Cokeworth was already so gloomy from the natural disrepair and neglect of the neighborhoods, that when an everyday storm settled over the stone buildings it seemed even more dark and ominous than any other place in Britain. The storm made it feel like not only would the townspeople never see the sun shine over the area again, but somehow mother nature inherently knew they weren't worthy to see it shining in the first place and was punishing them for their transgressions. The older Harry got, the more his eyes opened to the world around him. What used to be a "spooky, but fun" place to live as a nine or ten year old boy, quickly became a place where he questioned his parents' sanity about continuing to reside in the town. There had to be some reason, but whatever it was, he was not privy to the reasoning.

By Wednesday, Harry decided enough time had passed to be able to write to his friends without drawing too much attention to his somber feelings. They both had their own lives to worry about and Harry, being who he was, really had no room to complain. So that morning, he continued watching more rain dripping down his small window while sitting up in his bed - since his bedroom did not have space for a desk - and wrote a letter to Hermione, framing the letter as him checking in on how she was doing and if she'd received her O.W.L. marks yet. The results were due any day now and if Harry was worrying over his marks - mostly Potions - then his Muggleborn friend had to be more so than him.

For Harry, his whole career choice was dependent on that Potions O.W.L mark. While the Ministry's guidelines for an auror was that each applicant needed to have a N.E.W.T in Potions, they did not regulate what the O.W.L. grade was to accept students into the class. Those regulations were left up to the individual professors, and Severus refused to budge on his requirement that all incoming N.E.W.T students have an Outstanding mark. Not that it would have mattered, since Severus wrote the regulations for Potions at the Ministry, but if it had been Ministry-controlled - like every other thing in the Wizarding World besides breathing - he would still have to answer to the Minister and Lord Voldemort to approve his overly strict requirement. Harry was sure the reason the statistics showed how few aurors were accepted each year were skewed because of that single potions class restriction and if Severus would adjust his requirement to Exceeds Expectations - like all the other N.E.W.T. courses for an auror - there would be more applications into the elite program. As he continued his letter to Hermione, he had to remind himself of the fact that at least he knew he could attend Hogwarts next year, which was more than she and his other Muggleborn friends could say.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best letter to choose to write in his current mood, so he left it unfinished hoping he could add something else to it later that wouldn't remind her of her own sad situation before sending it out through the muggle mail. Since they both lived in a muggle community, Harry had learned early on in their friendship that the best way to get letters to her was through this most inefficient system, but it allowed him to avoid both Severus's and the Ministry's invasive checkpoints.

When the young wizard woke up Thursday morning - the day before the Malfoys' gala - the sun was finally out shining. The light greeted him first thing that morning, shining across his bed and practically fueling him for the day. He ate a quick breakfast of porridge and fruit before he ran back upstairs to his room to get ready to go out to the river. Just as he finished tying his trainers, he lifted his head and outside of his window he saw the most peculiar sight: Chris walking alone by the river looking almost lost and aimless. It wasn't necessarily odd that his muggle friend was out of the house before ten o'clock that morning, because Harry was about to do that very same thing after being cooped up inside for days, but it was his body language that stood out as strange; he was almost prowling around the riverbank with no rhyme or reason.

Deciding to find out what was going on, Harry grabbed the basketball his mum had transfigured for him from one of his old trainers and ran out of the house to meet Chris. If something was bothering his friend, a game of basketball would help cheer him up and maybe make him feel comfortable enough to talk about with Harry. However, by the time he'd made it out there, Chris was no longer alone. Now standing in front of his muggle friend - with their backs to the Gryffindor - were two much older, stronger men Harry didn't recognize from around the neighborhood. Immediately feeling like something was wrong, the young wizard slowed his own stride as he approached the trio.

"... got it?" Harry had barely heard the man on the left ask as he was approaching.

"Yeah," Chris mumbled and pulled something from his pocket that Harry couldn't see from his vantage point. The man on the right - tall and stocky with long brown hair coming from under a blue cap - took wherever Chris had handed him and tucked it into his inside coat pocket.

From the atmosphere between the three people, it was clear this meeting had been planned and not some random encounter like Harry had first thought. Not wanting to disturb whatever he'd come upon, he quietly watched from behind a set of trees that lined the riverbanks. Ironically it was the only green in their neighborhood, and no matter how much Harry thought about it, he couldn't figure out how that was possible with the river as polluted as it had been; at least without the help from magic. From behind the treeline, the young wizard couldn't see much of what else was actually going on between the two men and Chris, and he breathed a sigh of relief when they had finished whatever they'd come for, the pair of men continued walking away from the young wizard, continuing down the river. Following his instincts - which, admittedly, had gotten him into trouble more times than he liked to talk about - Harry still decided to approach his muggle friend and maybe find out what had been going on.

"Hi, Chris," Harry called as he placed a hand on the other teen's shoulder, causing him to practically jump out of his skin at the sight of the raven-haired teen right after the encounter with the two men.

"Oh, hey, Harry," Chris warily greeted him. The lanky muggle was shifting his weight between his feet and his hands were fidgeting at his sides. "Whatcha doin' here?"

The Gryffindor knew better than to say he saw what had happened with the two men, so instead came up with what he hoped was a good enough lie, "My mum got me a new basketball and I was going to try out. Want to join me?"

Harry didn't even think it sounded believable, but he'd really hoped Chris would. He tried to think about what he'd do if he were in the other boy's shoes; obviously something not right had happened and yet he didn't feel comfortable talking about it. Chris lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck trying to buy himself time before answering Harry. It was a movement the young wizard had seen Severus do a thousand times when he was frustrated with something going on and didn't know how to react. This time though, the simple movement caused his friend's dirty, plain white long sleeved shirt to fall down towards his shoulder, revealing a set of unmistakable fingertip bruises across his arm. The teen in front of him had been grabbed or forcibly moved in some way and Harry felt his breath hitch at the sight as his insides filled with an intense sorrow for Chris. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the bruises on his friend, but these were the first that couldn't be easily explained away as the muggle had done those other times. The Gryffindor tried hard not to react this time because he didn't want to scare the other boy while he thought about the situation. If he were honest, he didn't know what to do, but he was afraid if he'd told his parents, they would go to Chris's house and that would only make things worse. He needed to find it a way to help on his own.

"Nah," Chris had answered to him about playing the sport Harry knew he loved, "I gotta get home. I was just out running an errand for Oscar. Maybe this weekend though?"

Harry furrowed his brows thinking about what he could have possibly been doing for his stepfather out here with the two men. Not trusting his voice to not betray his worry, Harry nodded. There was always some excuse; it was another thing he noticed as he grew up each year and became more aware of the reality around him. As he watched his friend walk away with his head hung low, it left Harry with an overwhelming sense of guilt coursing through him; guilt that he didn't say anything, guilt that he had let it get this far, and guilt that he felt grateful it wasn't his own stepfather that treated him like Chris's did.

It wasn't until Chris was gone, back towards his house two streets over, and Harry was standing alone on the riverbank that he looked down at his feet and saw a small canister where the two men had been standing. Nervous and intrigued, the young wizard bent down to pick up the canister, wiping off the flakes of grass stuck to the sides from the morning dew. The lid was hard to dislodge, but when he finally opened it, he was surprised to find a small black bag inside of it; reminding Harry of the Russian Nesting Doll Hermione had gotten from her holiday one Christmas. Determining he had no idea what this was, he dumped the small bag into his hands and carefully turned it over and over to get a good look from all sides. It was denser than he'd expected it to be, but on the second turn in his hand, he noticed there was a small tear in the corner where a fine white powder was trickling out onto his fingers. Shoving the bag back in the canister, Harry tucked it under his shirt and hurried home.

The young wizard slowly opened the front door, listening carefully for his mum; the last thing he needed was to add whatever it was he had hidden under his shirt to the list of things his parents were disappointed in him over. Satisfied he could make it inside without running into any interference, he ran up the stairs to his room, trying hard not to slam the door in his wake to avoid drawing attention to himself. A quick look around his tiny bedroom proved there were few places he could actually hide the small canister that was practically burning a hole in his pocket. At first he considered placing it under his mattress - figuring it was the least likely place anyone would potentially look - but with his current luck his mum would be changing the linens and come across it. Then he went to the small bookshelf and again decided against hiding it there just in case Severus came in looking for a textbook; not like he didn't have his own entire library taking up every inch of the sitting room, but he couldn't risk it. Finally, he landed on his wardrobe, the only other piece of furniture in his bedroom, and decided that whatever the powder ended up being, it would be safer there than anywhere else until he could figure out what to do with it.

With that safely - at least as much as it could be - stored, Harry pulled out his letter to Hermione. Living in the muggle world, he thought his friend might have a better idea of what the white substance was, as well as how to approach - and ultimately help - Chris out of the two potentially dangerous situations he was living in. Lost in describing what he'd seen this morning, he missed the first knock on his door.

"Harry?" Severus's baritone voice called from the other side of his door right as he put the finishing touches on Hermione's letter. "May I come in?"

Harry was more surprised by the request to enter his room than the fact that his stepfather was home from work on a Thursday morning. In the past, Severus wouldn't have necessarily given the Gryffindor the respect by asking his permission before entering his room, and it demonstrated the neutral zone they managed to fall into since dinner with the Malfoys.

"Yeah," Harry called out, folding the letter he planned to mail to Hermione later and tucked it under his pillow.

"Your mother asked me to check if you had appropriate dress robes for tomorrow," his stepfather told him, casually leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest.

"Erm," Harry looked over to his wardrobe, where his single set of formal dress robes - not just nice ones like he wore to dinner - but the kind he'd need for Friday's gala - were stored, along with the canister he had just hid there, "I think they're fine."

Severus raised a single eyebrow questioning the validity of Harry's claim. It was a face the young wizard had seen far too many times sitting in Potions class and he knew by now it meant the professor didn't believe his statement. If he didn't say something else, he knew Severus was going to go to check the size himself and that would mean opening the wardrobe and potentially finding the canister of white powder.

"Fine," Harry conceded, feigning embarrassment by looking at his hands as they played with a loose thread on his bedspread, "they're just a bit too small."

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry who was now sitting up straighter in his bed, with his legs dangling off the sides towards his stepfather. "Get your trainers on," Severus said and turned to leave.

"Wait," Harry calmly called out, "where're we going?"

The professor turned slowly, clearly suspicious over Harry's less aggressive attitude towards the demand. "To get you new robes, obviously."

"Oh, perfect," the Gryffindor replied, happy to have at least dodged the broom for now, "I'll be right down."

It didn't surprise Harry that his mother wasn't joining them on their shopping trip; which was honestly better for them all as she would drag out the already painful process of getting fitted for robes far too long. Unfortunately, traveling just about anywhere as a Muggleborn was complicated and, to be frank, embarrassing, even if his mum was used to it by now. As with everything else, when Harry was younger he didn't question why his mum had to be checked at every shop when him and his stepfather did not, or why she couldn't just "drop in" for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's if it wasn't a place they'd planned to go to. She took it in stride though, never complained, and simply explained to his younger self about the regulations as if it were no big deal; it was just a fact of life and eventually Harry had accepted it. Now, it disgusted him and even if his mum would make a big deal about "how grown up he was getting" or "how handsome he looked" trying on the various robes, he wished she could walk through life as easily as him or Severus could. She'd decided to live in the Wizarding World - cutting all ties with her muggle family, as far as Harry knew - so why shouldn't she be awarded the same rights? He could almost understand if she were one of those straddling between the two worlds, but she wasn't. She was a witch and that was all that should matter.

Shopping with Severus was always a far more streamlined event and because of that, they made their way directly to Madam Malkin's after entering the Alley. He was all business and, for that, Harry was grateful; with any luck this would be an easy trip.

"Hello, professor!" The small plump witch greeted the pair the moment they crossed the warded threshold into the robe shop. "What brings you in so early this summer? It can't be time for new school robes yet. He'll easily grow another six centimeters before September!"

"No, not school robes. Harry needs a new set of formal robes for the gala tomorrow night," Severus responded, patronizingly patting Harry's back, which made him outwardly cringe.

"Ooh," Madam Malkin excitedly exclaimed, "I have a new set of dark green robes that will look absolutely stunning with your eyes."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his emerald eyes because it seemed like every single set of dress robes he would ever own were destined to be green. It wasn't to say he hated the color, because green was one of his favorites, but everyone always mentioned how the color looked with his eyes and that was annoying. Since he really wanted to get this shopping trip over with and be able to send out Hermione's letter that he'd brought with him, he didn't protest.

"Just make sure they're not Slytherin green," Harry jested, giving Severus a smirk. "I am a Gryffindor, after all."

"One who's been blessed with beautiful, emerald eyes, that look even more so in green robes," she called out, escorting both of them over to a fitting area.

"If you'd been placed in Slytherin," Severus casually added, "you wouldn't feel nearly as conflicted as you always do about wearing green."

"Well, then I'd have a whole other set of issues," Harry answered honestly, fiddling with the hem of his robes, choosing not to see his stepfather's reaction to the claim.

"Here we are," Madam Malkin returned carrying the set of robes that he already knew would be too large on him.

As Harry changed into the delicate fabric, he had to admit no matter what he'd said before, this set of robes were in the perfect shade of green; the one that he loved but would never admit it to his stepfather.

"They're perfect," Severus said when Harry stepped out of the changing room, almost swallowed in the long green fabric. "A little long, but that can be easily taken care of. How do they feel?"

Harry turned himself every which way in the mirror to see all around him and test his dexterity. While the gala had ample opportunity to dance, he would definitely not be dancing, but he still wanted to be comfortable. "They're alright," he conceded when they passed his movement test.

Through the mirror, Harry saw the Potions Master roll his eyes in such a "Professor Snape" way that the young wizard almost laughed.

"Shall I fit him?" The witch behind him asked, nervously wringing her hands.

After giving the Gryffindor time to change his mind, the professor nodded his approval. As Madam Malkin went to work, she asked, "Nothing for you, Professor? The Midsummer's Gala is the event of the year and I'm sure Mrs Snape would love to see you in a new set of robes."

But Severus didn't answer, causing Harry's anxiety to rise a little. Looking back at his stepfather, through the mirror, the Potions Master was also peering into it, but not at the work being done on Harry's new set of robes. Following the path of the onyx eyes, Harry saw a familiar face looking at them from the window behind him: Ron and his father! Making eye contact with the Weasley patriarch triggered the other pair of wizards to enter the shop and approach them.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron called out to him once he'd made it next to the mirror Harry was getting fitted at. His blue eyes went wide when he saw the robes his friend was wearing, "Nice robes, even if they are green."

"Thanks for that," Harry wanted to give him a swat for the green comment, but couldn't move during Madam Malkin's work. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Dad needed to stop by the apothecary," Ron explained, turning towards Mr Weasley who was now having a conversation with Severus, confusing Harry as to how they could jump into a topic so quickly. It was clear that there was a silencing ward placed around the odd pair because nothing but mumbling could be heard from them, further intriguing Harry about the situation. If he were honest, the Gryffindor didn't think his stepfather had enough history - outside of being the Weasley children's professor and Harry's best friend's father - to have a conversation as intense their's appeared to be.

"Where are you going in those?" Rob nodded his head towards the robes Harry was still wearing.

"The Malfoy Gala," Harry mumbled. While it was a party hosted by the Minister, for the Ministry and top level military officials, Mr Weasley's department was never invited. Itching to change the topic, Harry added, "Hey, is 'Mione staying with you this summer, I have-"

"Harry," Severus interrupted them, "I need to have a minute with Arthur. I'll be right outside and will be able to see you from the window. Do not leave here until I'm back, understood?"

Harry turned and looked out to where the professor was pointing out the window they'd first seen the Weasley father and son, "Yes, sir."

The immediate obedience, followed with the respectful sir caused Severus to narrow his eyes in suspicion, but his need to talk to Mr Weasley must have been more important because - much to Harry's astonishment - the other two wizards left without his stepfather saying a word about it. Harry watched them through the window for a half a minute, and Severus was looking more and more furious with the redhead as they continued to speak. It wasn't long before Madam Malkin allowed Harry to get dressed back in his casual robes, while she finished the last of his alterations in the back, leaving Ron and Harry in the empty storefront sitting on a set of plush chairs waiting on their fathers to return.

"So," Harry went back to his original question, trying to pretend his instincts weren't screaming at him that something was wrong, "is 'Mione staying with you guys?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, sheepishly, "but it's a bit complicated, Harry."

The raven-haired Gryffindor immediately started thinking about all the things that could have happened. Unfortunately, there was quite a lot to choose from, but the most obvious - at least that wouldn't have Ron waiting until Harry had asked about their friend - was that she'd decided to quit school after all. Maybe she had decided to take up a job working at the Burrow and they were afraid of how he'd react to the news, and suddenly the letter in his pocket didn't seem quite as important or relevant anymore. But another thought took over his mind as he tried to fill in the gaps.

Since when do my friends keep things from me?

It was a hard realization to have; that his two best friends hadn't told him something important until he'd been the one to ask. What could be going on that they felt they couldn't tell him about?

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry finally asked, deciding it was best to be blunt with his best friend, "Is she alright?"

"Oh yeah, nothing like that," Ron pulled his chair closer to Harry's and leaned over with his forearms resting on his thighs. It was a casual position, but one which would grant them a bit of privacy without putting up a ward that would cause suspicion. "We're not staying at the Burrow this summer, is all."

Harry's head recoiled back and he scrunched his face in confusion, "Where are you staying then?"

"Erm," Ron's face blanched, "I can't exactly tell you, Mate. It's protected."

Of course Harry knew exactly what Ron was talking about. A Fidelius Charm. Severus had wanted to put one on their Spinner's End home, but his mum had refused, claiming he was being paranoid. Harry was too young to have much of an opinion on the benefits of it, but his mum was right that Severus was very much paranoid. It was no secret that it came from the time he served as a Death Eater in the first war. Somehow, after Harry's biological father died, the Potions Master had gotten out of active duty and while he still carried the Mark and worked for the Ministry, he would only be summoned into battle under very dire circumstances, but that little concession did nothing to ease the Slytherin's constant worrying.

Ron's eyes shifted back and forth, as well as over his shoulder behind him, keeping track of Madam Malkin and their fathers outside. "It's happening, Harry," Ron whispered. "They're going to fight back. When we go to war on the Muggles."

"That's ridiculous," Harry shook his head swiftly from side to side thinking that Ron had to have heard something wrong. There was no way a war was coming and Severus hadn't known about it. "We're not going to war against the Muggles, Ron. I'm sure I'd have heard about it by now if we were. Another war is Severus's worst nightmare and he'd move us to Australia if it came to that."

"I dunno, mate," the redhead grimaced, but continued talking to his feet, "Hermione and I overheard my mum and dad talking to Dumbledore about it the other day where… were staying for the summer."

This time, it was Harry's turn to widen his eyes, "You don't mean…" he trailed off, getting his thoughts together and whispered, "...The Order."

Ron didn't speak, just gave his head an almost imperceptible nod.

"No," Harry said, a feeling of consternation filling him up inside. His friend couldn't be getting involved with the radical group, and yet he knew it had to be true. Everyone had known Ron's parents were accused of being a part of the organization in the first war - it was one of the reasons his parents wouldn't let him go anywhere with them unsupervised - and they'd gone to trial after the Ministry fell into Lord Voldemort's hands, but somehow they'd been cleared of the charges. If he remembered the story right, they'd gotten out based on some connection that had never been fully released to the public, even after all this time. But what Ron was now saying could get them not only thrown into Azkaban for life, but get the Dementor's Kiss for treason. Just the thought of his best friends… it was too much for him.

"Are you crazy?!" Harry looked all around to make sure no one heard what they were talking about, which in itself would land them in front of the Wizengamot. "Ron, what you're talking about is… it's…" he couldn't even say it out loud.

"C'mon, mate," the redhead leaned in closer to him, "isn't it you who's been telling us over and over about needing to take a stand against it all? Think about your mum, and Hermione… and her parents. I know you haven't met them, but they don't deserve what's about to happen any more than Hermione deserves not to be able to walk into this store because we randomly saw you and she didn't declare she'd be at Madam Malkin's this afternoon. We can finally put an end to it all."

He was right, it wasn't fair to their friend or his mum, and it was what he'd spent the last several years at school standing up against. But that was in school, where things were different and more controlled. What Ron was talking about, what they were wanting to do was far bigger than anything he'd ever considered. A quick look over his shoulder showed Severus and Mr Weasley still talking in what now appeared like a heated argument.

"So where are you guys staying?" Harry found himself asking before he could stop himself, not necessarily because he was interested; he thought he should know where his friends were, just in case any bad news reached him.

"I can't say it obviously, but it's an old flat here in London. Rather dreary if you ask me, and the place reeks of Dark Magic, but it's safe enough for all the… old crowd," Ron's face had doubt written all over it, then brightened up before he added, "I think it was your Godfather's or something. His name is on an old family tapestry that Hermione and I found the other day."

At the mention of his Godfather, Sirius Black, an angry fire started to burn inside the raven-haired Gryffindor. Harry had been told about the man growing up, when he had seen the long black haired wizard acting as close as a brother to his biological father in pictures of his real parents' wedding day. What he'd been told was that Sirius was James's best friend, but joined the Order early on in his life and was assigned to protect the Longbottoms, but all four - Sirius, the two Longbottom parents, and their son Neville - had been killed by Lord Voldemort himself back in 1981. While he had asked both his mum and Severus why an entire random family needed a group like the Order to protect them, neither would give him a solid answer. All that mattered was that Sirius Black died a traitor to his people. Which only further complicated his feelings about what Ron was telling him was happening in secret.

"Listen," Ron continued, and Harry looked to his left, beyond the youngest Weasley wizard at his stepfather returning, "just think about it, alright? You could actually make a difference, Harry. It's what you've always wanted to do, and now's the time to do it."

"Ready?" Severus sternly asked, looking down upon Harry from his towering position above him. The Gryffindor clenched his jaw as he thought back to this year and he allowed his anger to flow through him. "Mr Weasley, your father is waiting for you outside. You best go with him."

Ron audibly gulped, as did most of the students when talking to their "evil Potions Professor". It was one of the reasons Harry had gotten pretty popular early on. To those students who hadn't already known that the man was Harry's stepfather - since the young wizard still kept his Potter surname, even after the adoption - he appeared either incredibly brave, or had a death wish, when he challenged the professor in class or in the corridors. The fact that he was the son of James Potter, the wizard who sacrificed himself allowing Lord Voldemort to finally conquer the Ministry, and was standing up against someone with the Dark Mark, helped him gain quite a bit of influence early on. It wasn't to the level Draco had in Slytherin, but it was a close second overall and enough for him to know one very important thing: if he declared himself - or aligned himself - with the Order, people would feel empowered to follow him. It was far too much power for a wizard just shy of sixteen.

"Yes, sir," Ron answered respectfully, bringing Harry back to the present situation in front of him.

"Ron!" Harry called out before his friend had left the store. Giving his stepfather a quick glance over his shoulder, he met the redhead halfway through the store and positioned himself in a way that would shield his next action from his stepfather. "Can you give this to 'Mione? It won't do any good mailing it to her now."

"Sure thing," Ron took the letter Harry discreetly held out for him. "Think about what I said, alright?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, filing that information away for later, unsure exactly what there was to consider. It wasn't like he could go find this hidden flat that used to belong to his Godfather, no matter what he decided about the situation in the end. "I'll think about it."

"Everything alright, Harry?"

The young wizard was once again pulled from his wandering thoughts by Severus's question. After finishing their purchase of Harry's new dress robes, and stopping by the apothecary to refill several of Severus's personal Potions ingredients, it was past lunchtime and they decided to eat at the Leaky Cauldron before heading home. The pair were seated at a corner table - which would have been odd given how few patrons were there on a Wednesday afternoon if it weren't for the fact that they always sat at this table - eating their lunch; fish and chips for Harry and stew for his stepfather.

Harry had spent the better part of their morning after Madam Malkin's thinking about what Ron had told him. There was a war coming, or at least the Order thought there was one, and he wasn't sure how that news made him feel inside. Was it more propaganda from the radical side to try and gain followers? The more he thought about it, the more that seemed like the only option. Severus had been very vocal about their plans should another war arise, and the young wizard had no doubt the man would pull the trigger on those plans and move them all far away before travel became restricted for them too. He'd probably position it as a random holiday abroad to get his mum easily out and they simply wouldn't come back. The idea of that was infuriating; that this one person had so much power over him simply because his mother fell in love with him and they collectively decided it was best if the man had the same parental rights as a father. Yes, it made life easier for Harry with a Halfblood father instead only his Muggleborn mother, but if it were used against him to move, there wasn't much he would be able to do about it.

"Why were you talking to Mr Weasley?" Harry asked, hoping he would not only gain more information on what his friends were up to, but also distract himself from his actual turbulent thoughts.

"That is none of your concern," Severus replied, obviously not buying the seemingly random question as he intently looked over the table at his son.

"You looked angry," Harry added, treading lightly in hopes of not pushing too hard to cause the man to close up completely. "Was Ron really that bad this year?" He added with a forced laugh.

"Out of all the Weasleys," Severus said with a small shake of his head, "your friend is hardly the 'bad one'."

That time the Gryffindor really did laugh, "Then I take it you're happy to see Fred and George go?"

"Me and every other professor in that school," the Potions Master said. He paused looking over at Harry's innocent green eyes filled with curiosity over what his friend's father - a known blood traitor - was doing speaking to him. "They, Fred and George Weasley, sent several missives at the end of last year requesting my assistance in one of their latest endeavors."

"You mean their joke shop?" Harry asked with a smile. It had been a dream of the twins to start this shop, but the way they wanted to run it would break at least a dozen laws and the regulations to get around it was extensive. If they could get away with it, Harry thought they'd make a fortune from it, but too many of their current designs could be used as weapons and therefore had no chance of getting the required approvals from the Ministry.

"Don't tell me you've gotten involved in this ridiculous plan too?" His question was laced in disappointment and Harry was starting to regret opening up to his stepfather this one time. Seeing the young wizard's reaction, he continued, "In order for any of their… inventions… to even be considered, they need each formulation signed off and endorsed by a current Potions Master. Naturally, they'd hoped to utilize the relationship between Ron and yourself to their advantage. A little Slytherin for a family of pure Gryffindors, if you ask me, but Arthur was simply checking on my stance."

Harry really considered the story he was being told. While it all checked out with what he knew the twins were working on in regards to their joke shop idea - tentatively named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes - it didn't account for the length of the conversation or the aggression on Severus's face during the small pieces Harry had seen.

Deciding it was best to continue the ruse, the Gryffindor took a casual bite of his breaded fish and asked, "And what did you tell him?"

Again, Severus watched his son with the eyes of a hawk, looking for anything that might have shown what was going through his young mind, "That the idea was more likely to land them in Azkaban at best and secretly killed at worst. That if they continued, they may one day simply vanish from existence."

That was a thing too, and Harry shivered at the reminder. People often just disappeared, mostly when they did or said something against Lord Voldemort or his policies. He knew it was why his parents had been so worried over his resistance to the Muggleborn laws, but his father died a hero and, at least so far, that had mostly protected him even if he didn't fully realize or understand it. No one ever challenged what happened to these missing witches and wizards, instead they just weren't ever talked about again. It was ironic that Severus had brought it up because Harry had only personally - and even that was a stretch - known of it happening to one person and it would be the second time that family was brought up today.

Regulus Black was the younger brother of Sirius, and while he was a known Death Eater fighting - based on the few details Harry had been told - valiantly beside Severus and James through most of the first war, he went missing suddenly right before Voldemort took power. He was believed to have been killed after being discovered as a traitor, but his body was never recovered and there was never a search for him; at least not one sponsored by the new Ministry. And he wasn't the only one; supposedly there was a place in the Department of Mysteries keeping track of "The Missing", as they were so aptly called, and Harry couldn't even fathom how he would feel should one of his friends end up on that mysterious list. He would rather be on the list than his friends or his parents. It was a simple parasitic thought that he had no way of anticipating how it would work its way further into his mind, refusing to let go no matter how conflicted he felt about the situation as a whole.

"That would be bad," Harry lamely said in an effort to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible, but instead he could see something behind his stepfather's eyes that told him he wasn't going to like what was coming.

Without even pulling out his ebony wand, Severus warded the air around them reminding Harry just how powerful of a wizard his stepfather really was. If he ever got into a situation where he'd be dueling Severus, the young wizard was almost positive he wouldn't come close to standing a chance.

"That actually brings me to another point I wished to discuss with you," the Slytherin said after taking a sip of his tea. "I don't think you should be in contact with the Weasleys any longer."

The air inside of Harry's lungs immediately left his body as if he'd taken a hard blow to the chest, although he'd not been physically touched. Could Severus really do that? Forbid him from talking with his best friend? And over what? If he was truly talking to Arthur about the twins' joke shop - and now he knew that absolutely couldn't be it - it had nothing to do with Harry, and therefore there was no reason to prevent him from talking to his friends. It was bad enough that he was never allowed to visit the Burrow when Mrs Weasley invited him every single summer; now to be forbidden to contact them?

"That's not fair," Harry said the first thing that came to his mind once he caught his breath. "You can't do that!"

"Actually, as the person responsible for your safety," the Potions Master replied very clinically, almost too detached for the sensitive subject matter at hand, "I absolutely can do that. As for it being fair? Life isn't fair, Harry, you see that every single day with your mother. Why do you think she's not here bringing you to get your dress robes instead of me?"

It was a rhetorical question, even Harry in his current irate state of mind knew that; going anywhere with his mother was a long and tedious process that required planning. She wouldn't have been able to go inside the Apothecary with them when Severus randomly remembered he needed more beetle eyes for some commissioned work he was doing this summer - as if the man didn't already have enough work to do - and would have been left waiting outside. Today was a beautiful day, but if it were snowing or pouring rain, it wouldn't have mattered, she wouldn't be allowed the simple courtesy of stepping out of the elements because her wand was tagged a different color than his and Severus's.

"That's bollocks and you know it. This has nothing to do with my safety," Harry challenged, surprising even himself that he'd managed to, so far, keep his rising temper under control. "Let's call it what it is: you just want to be in control. The Weasleys don't fit into your idealistic vision for your family, so you're cutting them out!"

"Don't be so dramatic, that is not what I said," Severus clenched his jaw tight as he said the words, "you have no idea the fire you're about to play with and the sleeping dragon on the other side of it. You will not be contacting Ron, Hermione, or any of the Weasleys for the rest of the summer."

Harry aggressively pushed his plate across the table, barely noticing the last of the chips that fell from it onto the floor. He gave a small sarcastic chuckle, "And what about next year? At school? How are you going to stop me from talking to him in the common room? Or in our dorms? Are you going to move in?"

"Now you're being ridiculous-"

"Or maybe," Harry curtly interrupted, on his own warpath now, "I'm not going back to Hogwarts. That's really the only way you can guarantee I don't have any communication with them!"

"Harry-"

"No!" Harry yelled again, this time standing so quickly his chair toppled over drawing attention to them from the few patrons eating in the drabby restaurant. "I hate you!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the young wizard looked away so he wouldn't see the disappointment and pain in the obsidian eyes watching him. Throughout the years, Harry had said a lot of not-so-nice things to his stepfather, but he'd never told the man he hated him. The Gryffindor had come close to it plenty of times, especially in the last three years, but that word was one he generally reserved for the likes of Lord Voldemort and his truly oppressive followers; like the Lestranges or the Carrows. Needing to do something, anything, to get away, Harry took off towards the stairway so he could floo back home, desperate to put as much space between himself and Severus as possible.

~~~~SS~~~~

The moment Harry stood, Severus knew he was going home, making this entire situation far more complicated than he ever wanted it to be. All he wanted was to make sure Harry wasn't sending or receiving anything that could be used against him should it fall into the wrong hands; something that was unfortunately far too easy nowadays. As he made his way up the stairs to the public floo, his anger over Harry's completely unproportional reaction continued to grow. So by the time he exited the floo back into his small sitting room, he was just as angry as Harry was, and the last person he wanted there to greet him was Lily.

"What's going on, Severus?" She accusingly asked. "All you needed to do was get a new set of dress robes and Harry just came running through the house claiming you're ruining his life."

"I'll tell you about it later," he replied, pushing himself past his wife and heading towards the stairs leading to the two bedrooms and the single, shared lavatory on the second floor.

"Severus!" Lily followed him in his wake, but he didn't care one bit. He was too focused on getting to Harry's room and demanding some respect from the teen. "Would you stop?!"

Right before he opened the door, just as his hand was reaching for the knob, Lily's small frame came running in front of him and blocked the door.

"Move out of the way," he demanded.

"No."

She stood there with her hand tightly crossed over her chest. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a maroon shirt with small yellow stars across it making her look like she was on her way to cheer on the Gryffindor team while watching Harry play Quidditch. Her dark red hair framed her pale face, and those green eyes stared up into his own, almost reaching through him and into his soul. It was that simple command from the woman he loved that finally reached him. What exactly was he going to do when he tore open that door? After James's death, knowing that getting together with Lily meant that he would become a father - stepfather, but essentially responsible for a child's well-being nonetheless - terrified him to no end. In fact, the fear of becoming Tobias Snape was almost what stopped him from dating Lily to begin with; that and the complicated mess of James's death, the one no one really knew about but him. He was happy he'd finally gained the courage to officially ask her out, and he never asked her reasoning for accepting. So far in his role as Harry's stepfather, he'd never come as close to acting like his own father as he was standing outside of Harry's door. So what was he going to do? The fear of his answer prevented him from going any further in that thought process.

"Lily," he reigned in his anger as he said her name, the name that in the back of his mind he always feared he'd never get to say again, "it's a long story."

"Then come with me and tell me," she placed her hands down at her side and reached out to hold his own. "He'll cool down and then we'll figure it out, together… like we always do. I just can't have you both constantly fighting over every little thing."

He followed her lead into their bedroom, where he sat down on the bed, which was perfectly made with their light yellow bedspread that had small blue flowers scattered throughout it. Like everything else Lily touched in the formerly dark house, this room resembled nothing of its previous form. The walls were painted in a bright sky blue - a compromise from the lavender his wife had originally wanted - which balanced the darker wood finishes around the room and the furniture. Their bed was positioned on the middle of the wall opposite of the doorway with a set of drawers with a mirror on top directly across from it flush with the door. The small window on the left faced out towards the street, leaving Harry's significantly smaller room the better view of the river out back. Each side of the bed had a small bedside table with the latest activity they worked on before going to sleep each night; Severus's side, closest to the door, had a Potions Journal, and Lily's had a small sketch pad with pencils where she drew every night.

"This isn't a little thing, Lil," he replied, looking to his right where she had sat down next to him. He took a cleansing breath, needing to let go of what he'd been holding onto since dinner with the Malfoys, which was only made worse by his conversation outside of Madam Malkin's with Arthur. "On Saturday, Lucius alluded to an announcement that will be made at the gala. And then in his office last week, he was talking about finally taking back what's rightfully ours."

"The Muggles?" She asked and he could tell she had no clue how this related to Harry's angry mood when he returned from Diagon Alley.

"It's a war, Lily," his eyes filled with the pain he was feeling inside of him, "and that's not all…"

A pregnant pause fell over them as Lily waited patiently for him to continue. Her hands were placed neatly in her lap and she was anxiously twisting her wedding band around her ring finger. It was her telltale sign that she was nervous and likely knew where this was going.

"I saw Arthur in Diagon Alley," he eventually said, "actually, he and Ron found us and… he's trying to recruit me."

"No," Lily shook her head in disbelief, "why would he think you'd get involved with them?"

Severus clicked his teeth together as he considered how much to tell his wife. The last thing she needed was to be dragged through the mud of this mess. He had abruptly ended his spying days for the Order the night the Ministry had fallen, and then he vowed never to return when he married Lily, who - at least as far as he knew - hadn't known he was a double agent to begin with. From that moment on, his life was simple: do whatever it took to keep Harry and Lily safe. At the time, that meant keeping his Death Eater persona active, but as subdued as possible; basically to try to hide Harry in plain sight. Now that plan would be tested in every facet of their life.

Lily left the Order right after James's defection in August of 1980 and all the professor knew about the situation was that it almost ended their marriage. He could easily see why, and had been very blunt when explaining it to James the night he showed up at this very house with the wild plan to save his son from becoming the subject of the prophecy. Severus had not so nicely - not caring in the slightest about hurting Potter's feelings - explained that had Lily been accepting being with a Death Eater, they probably wouldn't have gotten married to begin with; it would have been Severus all along. James wasn't shy about bringing up that awful day in their fifth year when he'd called her that awful name, telling him that he alone was the reason his friendship with Lily had ended. And somehow, that was the start of an odd dependency, for the Slytherin and Gryffindor, on each other.

"They're probably desperate," Severus finally answered, feigning his ignorance on the matter. It wasn't technically a lie, which is what he told himself to make the situation feel less troubling inside of himself. "Whatever their reasoning, no good can come from this."

"No! Of course not," she said astounded. "What did you tell him? I can't believe he'd think you'd join them. Arthur Weasley?"

Severus shook his head confirming it was in fact, Arthur Weasley. Then gave a sigh of relief when he could honestly answer her first question, "I told him I'm not interested in whatever it is they're planning… that I value mine and my family's life too much to throw it all away. And that's when he told me about the Muggle War coming, that they're preparing to fight."

Lily huffed angrily in a reaction that confused the wizard, "So they'll come out of whatever hiding they've been in to protect the muggles?! Where have they been this whole time?!"

It was a reaction he hadn't expected from her, but he couldn't disagree with. The Order would have a hard time gaining followers after leaving the Wizarding World to the hands of Lord Voldemort for over a decade. He'd asked Arthur something similar - his questioning more along the lines of why do they think now is the right time - and so he was comfortable sharing the answer he'd received, "I don't know about where they've been, but Arthur said they think the Ministry will be spread thin enough in the upcoming battles to get some good traction against them. They're not doing it for the Muggles, or at least that's not the impression I got."

"So then… the Weasleys are for sure…" she trailed off and covered her mouth with her delicate hand when her train of thought caught up to where his mind frame had been at lunch with Harry.

"Yes," he answered the unspoken question, "and it's only a matter of time before Harry finds out or even worse they try to recruit him too. I doubt Molly and Arthur would allow Ron and Ginny to actually participate in any Order activities, but just in case, I told Harry he shouldn't be in contact with them any longer."

"Sev," Lily said, disappointedly, "you can't tell him things like that."

"I was being honest!" He defended, "Or as honest as I felt comfortable being. What should I have done? If he finds out-"

"I know," his wife interrupted and leaned against his side. Slowly, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders wishing he could protect her from everything that was barreling towards them. They sat in that position, just the two of them contemplating the best way to save the son they loved.

"We can leave," he suggested, already knowing she would refuse, but he had to try. "I can get us the necessary documents and we can leave tonight. Now is the best time to do it. Come tomorrow's announcement at the gala, it will be too late. They'll put restrictions in place and-"

His anxious talking - something that very rarely occurred - was interrupted by Lily's soft lips meeting his own. Even given all the troubles they've been through, all the hurdles they'd jumped, she knew exactly how to calm him. He focused on her lips, softly against his own, allowing his mind to be taken far away from the rundown Spinner's End, from the Ministry and its impending war, and from Hogwarts where he was surrounded by both sides practically pulling him apart. So when she broke their spontaneous kiss and he opened his eyes to her emerald green ones, he knew what the answer was: to keep on the current course and hopefully they'd get ahead of both sides somehow.