~~~SS~~~

Severus jolted up awake, panting heavily, with his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat that caused his short-sleeved pyjama shirt to suffocatingly cling to his chest.

The dream – or more likely the memories – he'd just woken up from had felt as real as the bed beneath him. For all he knew he could have been walking down the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, and bumping into Lily, only yesterday, rather than dying on the Shrieking Shack floor and waking up in some alternate reality. It wouldn't be the strangest part of this entire ordeal. The smell of the Apothecary still lingered in his nose, and he could taste the peppermint tea on the back of his tongue, but most of all, he could feel the strong rise of emotions inside of him from when Lily told him about her impending divorce; in a strange combination of sorrow for Lily's struggles, elation for his own selfish reasons, and anger on behalf of Harry.

But that didn't happen yesterday. It was years ago.

If those memories were anything to go by, even before he and Lily began their official relationship - one which would eventually lead them to marriage - his feelings towards Harry had been growing, starting from the day Albus asked for his help to rescue the toddler, and then nourished in that first meeting with Lily at his home, and finally solidified by the months spent brewing custom-made potions for the child. After those memories he could no longer deny that the Severus of this world had genuinely wanted to help the boy, and not merely out of some sort of twisted atonement or oath, but because he wanted the child to live a full, happy life.

Everyone deserves the opportunity to find happiness.

The words he had once said to Lily years ago hit him like a powerful stinging hex straight to his gut. This world certainly proved the truth behind that sentiment. In the brief twenty-four hours he had spent in this world, he could already see how the alternate version of almost everyone he'd met had improved because of his not delivering the damn prophecy to Voldemort.

Obviously, this Harry had his own set of challenges to overcome throughout the years, but one of the first things Severus had noticed yesterday during breakfast was the deep contentment within his bright green eyes that the other Potter - the boy Severus knew who had been constantly haunted by the shadows of his profound losses; ones which did not occur here - never had. Deep down, he knew the Harry Potter of his world would swap places with this version in a heartbeat, not so much the other way around.

And while Harry was at the top of the list of people whose lives improved by Severus's deviation, the list did not end there. Despite his lycanthropy, Lupin would be celebrating his seventh year – and his longest steady job by over five years – at Hogwarts, Draco was given the chance to create meaningful friendships beyond those of mutual opportunity, and Rosalie's whole little life - one which didn't even have the chance in the other world - was created.

Thinking about his own situation, Severus had to admit that his life also saw a significant positive change by putting his trust in Albus early on. Aside from marrying Lily, having a child, and a new research-based aspect to his career, the weight he used to carry on his shoulders for decades did not exist here. Here, although the first war lasted an extra two years, his spying days officially ended with Voldemort's confirmed imprisonment, and the pressure of the promise he made to protect Lily's child was replaced by his own will to protect him out of love rather than his duty.

Pushing himself further up his bed, Severus gently touched the empty pillow on his left, where Lily had fallen asleep beside him last night - not wrapped in his arms as he had always imagined, but close enough to him to believe she was satisfied.

What about her? Was Lily's life better here than in his old world? No one would choose to be murdered at twenty-one over living, but was she truly happy with the life they'd built?

Based on his small window into their world, she seemed so, nevertheless, he could tell the threat of the mysterious deaths, combined with her anxiety over Harry's independence - the source of the current tension between mother and son – made him question it. For all he knew, she went through her day feeling dead being forced to make the best out of the hand life had dealt her; a mystery he had a profound urge to uncover.

Ready to face whatever the day had in store for him, Severus swung his legs off the side of the bed, catching a glance at the clock and instantly hating how this version of himself had somehow got into the habit of sleeping in later than his other self. Unwilling to be late for the second day in a row, and feeling more confident than yesterday, he quickly showered, dressed in another set of black robes, and followed the corridor in search of Lily.

In the absence of the loud ruckus Harry tried to pass off as music last night, the stillness of the corridor made him wonder if their children were even there.

Shouldn't they be getting ready for school?

The smell of sausages guided him past the living room and into the kitchen to the sight of Lily setting bowls out from the lower cupboard on the countertop beside the stove where a pot of porridge sat simmering.

"You're up and moving early this morning," she said, turning around to read the clock by the doorway leading to the breakfast table.

"This is early?" Severus asked, following her line of sight to the clock. A quarter after seven would have been late in his old world where he was usually up around five, especially in those later months as Hogwarts' headmaster when the luxury of sleep evaded him nearly every night and he laid awake, wondering how to get them out of the mess he once helped build.

"Porridge and sausage today," Lily said, oblivious to his hesitation. "Could you set the toppings out on the table, please?"

A tray holding four small bowls - granola, diced apples, cinnamon, and blueberries - sat on the countertop on her other side, next to a stack of four bowls and spoons. He planted a quick kiss on Lily's cheek as he passed by, then levitated the tray of topping, bowls, and spoons in front of him into the room he deemed "the breakfast room" since outside of Lily's art projects strewn across her side of the table, they appeared to use it for breakfast only.

Unlike yesterday, the four bowls and spoons made setting it easy, but at the sight of the pitcher of pumpkin juice on the table, he summoned two glasses and set one at the chairless space for Harry and the other for Rosalie. For him and Lily, he summoned two teacups, which joined the sugar bowl and small milk jug on their end of the table, making sure not to disturb Lily's work documents and whatever filing system, or not, she had.

He took a step back to relish in the scene's normalcy: a family, however untraditional they might be, having breakfast together before heading off to school and work. It was something he had long assumed could never exist for him.

The table now set, Severus casually returned to the kitchen, prepared to transport the porridge and sausage, surprised to see Lily waiting for him, her eyes narrowed in a partial scorn, and her hands firmly on her hips.

"First you're up early, and now you've fully set the table for me. Whatever happened when you hit your head I'm not about to complain anymore." She ran her arm across her forehead and went back to ladling out the porridge into a serving bowl. "Any chance you can check on the kids to make sure they're up? I have a staff meeting first period, and dropping Rosie off at Arabella's is already going to be a tight turnaround, even if she's on time this morning."

"Arabella Figg?" Severus's head snapped up at the familiar name of the Order member Albus assigned to watch Potter in Little Whinging. Why would she be here?

"We talked about this Sev, and while you might not wish to remember, you agreed she was our best option."

Lily turned to him, waving the ladle as she lectured.

"We should be thankful Arabella offered to help us out. And I don't care what you say, Rosie is better off at 'the smelly cat lady's' house-" she used air quotes to emphasise the nickname Severus vaguely recalled their daughter coining her latest babysitter, one he mistakenly did not discourage at the time, "-then continuing at school considering how strong her accidental magic already is."

Her brief explanation of their daughter's situation instantly triggered a memory - and with it, a pressure deep inside his head - of their rather heated disagreement on how to handle Rosalie's pre-Hogwarts education. Lily had insisted on sending her to the local muggle primary school where she worked as a part-time art teacher and where Harry had attended, and Severus fought to send her to the new magical homeschool group in Hogsmeade. He argued how going to Hogsmeade would give her connections to the magical community long before she stepped foot onto the Hogwarts Express, and with Severus and Harry commuting to school every morning he could drop her off and pick her up; leaving Lily free to get to work as needed. Lily, who had positive memories of her muggle primary school, wanted Rosalie to have a solid foundation in muggle maths, science, and literature.

As always when they argued, Severus eventually conceded under the condition that once Rosalie's accidental magic became troublesome, they would pull her out rather than let her be reprimanded for it as Severus had experienced in his Cokeworth primary school days. While Lily had no issues with his suggestion, neither of them honestly expected it to come so soon.

"Mhmm," Severus nonchalantly hummed as he opened the top two drawers beneath the countertop looking for a spatula to remove the cooked sausages from the pan onto the awaiting platter. "And I shall remind Rosalie to refrain from using that nickname, or any equally colourful one, in the future."

Lily playfully plucked the spatula out of his hands to wrap her arms around his neck.

"You can just go ahead and say it, Sev. I know you're already thinking it." She paused, waiting for him to fill in her sentence. When he didn't respond, she gently slapped him on the shoulder and said, "You were right… there, I said it… we should have sent her to Hogsmeade from the start."

"Now that wasn't so difficult, was it?" He teased, wishing his day would stay right here, in a territory he could easily navigate based on the emotions once buried in his other body. He felt confident he could succeed at being Lily's husband… however, being a father, and stepfather, was where the difficulty lay with no parental bone in his body and merely tolerating children, at best, in his old world.

With a gentle push from Lily towards the opposite doorway, Severus wandered back down the still mostly silent bedroom corridor. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom between the children's bedrooms gave him reason to believe Harry was already up, so he started his quest at Rosalie's room.

Unfortunately, his knock on her door went unanswered and after cautiously entering it, he found her bed partially made, night clothes scattered on top of it, and the room empty. If not in her bedroom or the kitchen where else would the child be?

Unsure of where to look for her, Severus had taken one step outside of her door when a shadowing inside his bedroom across the corridor caught his attention.

Perhaps yesterday she was doing more than waking me up.

As stealthily as a former spy could be, he crept through the room, towards his ensuite bathroom where the harsh electric light flowed out of the doorway illuminating the floor under the window.

Just shy of the room, he stopped at the sound of Rosalie calling out to him, her small voice muffled by what sounded like her toothbrush sitting in her mouth:

"I know you're there… you don't have to sneak up on me."

Severus sighed, releasing the tension that built up in his shoulders during his search for the child.

Rounding the last corner, he leaned against the doorframe taking in the sight of the five-year-old girl, dressed in a blue and white smock dress with ruffled sleeves, standing on a little wooden step stool for her to reach the sink basin to brush her teeth. She watched him watching her in the mirror, going about her business of brushing her teeth as if this were a completely normal interaction for them.

"Your mother asked me to check in on you," he told her after she rinsed her mouth using the small cup to the right of the cold faucet handle that he'd paid no attention to previously. Folding his arm onto his chest, he bluntly asked, "What are you doing in here?"

Rosalie jumped off the step stool to pull down the white towel from the bar and wiped pink streaks of toothpaste remnants from her face, then dropped it onto the floor by her feet. Severus physically cringed at the action, instinctively cleared his throat, and was amazed when she sheepishly picked the towel up off the floor and returned it to the towel bar.

"I don't want to go to Misses Figg's house today," she pouted, standing in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back. "Her cats are scary and she smells funny. I can go to school with you. Promise I'll be good there. You just have to tell Mummy you want to bring me and she'll let you."

Severus inquisitively turned his head, having the sneaking suspicion she was trying to use her knowledge of his predicament to her benefit. Yet another example of her true Slytherin nature.

"You know I can't do that."

A moment passed, and then two, and Severus began to wonder if he made a mistake in his assumption.

"I do," she eventually whispered, a sly smile slowly forming on her face; one Severus would have been proud of had he not been on the other end of it, "but I didn't think you would."

"How did you know?" He blurted out, instantly regretting his rashness for not even checking to see if they were alone.

Lily could have easily walked in behind him, wondering why he was taking so long to accomplish something so simple – or something she would consider simple for her husband rather than this version of him – and he'd never checked. With two swishes of his wand over his shoulder, he closed the door and cast a hurried, but adequate muffliato for added privacy.

Rosalie stood there patiently watching him, without moving a muscle except to blink up at him. He had a feeling she knew what was going to happen, and something in her dark eyes convinced him he'd get some of the answers he desperately needed if he remained calm.

Inhaling through his clenched teeth, he tried again, "How did you know about me and my… situation… here? Yesterday at breakfast… and then in the garden… you said… you knew-"

"Sometimes I just know things before they happen," she eventually interrupted, saving Severus from his rambling.

"I don't understand."

Her tiny hand urged him down to her level, and his knees bent almost against his will.

"I get these… feelings… about things that are happening. And they're usually right," she murmured, her gaze never left his and her voice stayed even; no sign of her lying. "Like the day I knew where to find Cotton… that's our cat's name, by the way… the day he hid under the neighbour's shed five houses down."

Severus wanted to scoff, to tell her how absurd she sounded, but something he couldn't explain stopped the sound midway up his throat. Against all odds he was compelled to believe her; it certainly wouldn't be the most unbelievable part of this whole debacle.

"Then I had this dream where my Daddy died fighting the bad guys-" She paused and Severus swallowed hard, waiting for her to finish while his hammering heart practically burst straight through his chest. After what felt like hours, though it had been less than a minute, she added, "And then, when I came to wake you up, my feelings said you're here to save him… and me… and Harry. And you are, right?"

"I don't know."

Severus solemnly shook his head. How could he endorse a theory, either way, on speculation alone; particularly one sounding as far-fetched as a child seer. At the same time, he couldn't brush it aside as rubbish either, not after he had seen his life in two distinct realities based on his reaction to a blasted prophecy. Like it or not, his life - and those of the people most important to him - were tied to Divinations.

Her eyebrows rose, urging him to divulge his side of the story.

Fully aware he would likely regret it, he said, "I also died… or dreamt I died… in a different…"

"World," she offered, seeing him struggle to find the appropriate words. "You're here from a different world. One where you didn't marry Mummy and you didn't have me. Where you helped Harry win against a bad guy and almost died."

'Helped Harry win' and 'almost died'.

Whether or not her choice of words was deliberate, they did not go unnoticed by Severus. Having no way of knowing if Potter had watched the memories or chucked the phial into the Black Lake as he reentered the battle in the castle, he wanted to believe her implication of Harry succeeding at defeating the evil wizard. But none of that mattered now, because he needed to decide, right then and there, if he trusted this child - his and Lily's child. And if so, what it meant for him and his future here.

Again, his mouth seemed to move on its own. "I think it's safe to say not everyone here will be as understanding of my predicament, and as I do not fancy a one-way trip to some dungeon in the Department of Mysteries, I could use some help in ensuring I do not falter here. That's to say, could you help… fill in… some details so I can keep my situation hidden until I figure out what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Of course!" She beamed in pride at her assumed role and it took all of Severus's patience not to roll his eyes at her dramatics. "Let's start with Harry. You guys didn't get on wherever you're from, did you?"

Severus frowned. "Did your 'feeling' tell you that one too?"

"No, Daddy, you did. Or the way you talked to him at breakfast did."

Her accompanying giggle at his first mistake in this world didn't frustrate Severus as much as he expected it to. Who could blame him for making such a mistake? No one was prepared to wake up in an alternate reality, and his history with Potter Senior and Junior tainted every move he made until Albus's death - or maybe when he learned of Harry's necessary sacrifice - effectively extinguished the fire of hate inside of him caused by years of seething rage and embarrassment. Anyone in his position would have reacted similarly. Still, Severus gave hmph of disapproval, although it carried less emotion than usual.

"Lesson one," she explained, hand firmly on her hip in the same pose Lily still used, "you and Harry are close here. He told me you're more his dad than Mister James. Trust me, everyone will know something is wrong if you and Harry are always fighting."

"Harry. Is he-" Severus hesitated, debating the best way to verify the possible connection between the teen's Saviour status in both worlds. Rosalie patiently waited for him to continue. "Do you know if he's important here?"

Her little head rotated so far to the side, her ear nearly sat on her shoulder. "Important how?"

"Nevermind," Severus said and took her continued confused expression as a sign that his little reconnaissance mission had come to its end. They really needed to get back to the kitchen, anyhow, before Lily realized they were missing and came searching for them.

Rosalie slipped her hand into his, and together they made their way to the breakfast table. The shower was still running as they passed by the children's shared bathroom, reminding Severus of Rosalie's odd presence at his and Lily's sink.

He slowed them down as they reached Harry's door to ask, "Were you hiding in my room to avoid going to Arabella's today?"

"Nope." Her head shook so fast, the curtains of red hair battered her pale cheeks. "Harry gets the bathroom in the mornings. He takes longer to get ready, so I brush my teeth at your sink during the week."

Severus eyed the door to his left, genuinely curious about how the teen fit into all of this. As the person whose eyes Severus stared into as he died, he'd be foolish to overlook the genuine possibility of Harry somehow having caused the whole situation.

Leave it to Potter to throw me into a different world. A last laugh, I'm sure.

He needed to check. And if Rosalie was correct in Harry's long morning routine, now seemed like as good of a time as any.

"Tell your mother I'm going to check in on Harry and I'll be right there," he instructed her.

"Did you not hear what I said about you and Harry?" she warned, glaring between the plain white door next and Severus. Not for the first time, Severus wondered if she were a natural-born legilimens; it'd be a better explanation of her 'feeling' better than Divinations. "But you're going to do it anyway, so you better hurry. If Harry sees you-"

"Believe it or not, I've survived far more treacherous environments than a teenager's bedroom," he curtly spat out at the child. "I think I can handle this one."

"If you say so."

"I'll be fine."

She gave him a half smile, the same one of Lily's that used to tell him, in no uncertain terms, she didn't believe him. But before he could argue against it, Rosalie abruptly swung around and skipped away; yelling his message to Lily so loudly he had no doubt anyone passing by the house could repeat it verbatim.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Severus slinked up to Harry's bedroom door and pressed himself against the wall to the right of it. Despite adhering to Lily's unofficial rule of no fully latched doors - created to help a younger Harry to navigate through his home as effortlessly as possible, although he had no issues with it any longer given his advanced Charms skills - the Gryffindor's door sat firmly closed, preventing Severus from peeking inside undetected.

Thankfully, the door made no noise when Severus steadily opened it, revealing a brightly lit rectangular room, wider than it was deep, with a spacious enough layout to give a wheelchair-user like Harry independence for anything from making his bed to gathering his clothes from the wardrobe on the right-hand wall, or doing his homework at the corner desk behind the door leading into the shared bathroom.

A picture window facing the back garden - the potions garden, to be precise - was centred on the wall opposite from the door, beneath which the full-sized bed sat; its maroon bedspread was already neatly made and Harry's Gryffindor uniform laid out waiting for him. The bedside table on the far side of the bed, and a long but short bookcase loaded with various bins and containers lining the wall to Severus's left completed the furniture layout of the room. All functional and neater than anything he'd ever seen from his version of the boy if his constant crumpled tie was anything to go by.

To no surprise, the garish red and gold colours of his Gryffindor posters, pendants, and flags, as well as an interesting split of Chudley Cannons and Puddlemere United quidditch memorabilia decorated three of the light cream walls. A series of moving pictures filled in the spaces between those, the majority being Harry and his friends around Hogwarts, watching quidditch, and at the Burrow or Malfoy Manor, with a few of his family littered here or there - a combination of Harry and Rosalie, Harry with Severus and Lily, or all four of them together. Notably absent from every single one Severus could see from the doorway was James Potter and whatever life the Marauder had been living since his divorce from Lily, further proving Rosalie's claim of Harry's and Severus's closer relationship in this world, and something Severus would be cognisant of, and tread lightly towards, going forward.

An unknown object secured to the wall above the bookcase officially drew Severus into the room to get a better look at it.

A broom.

Custom designed to accommodate Harry's inability to hold his lower body onto the narrow broom handle, it seated the rider with his legs forward on the handle rather than behind near the bristles, in a similar manner to Alastor Moody's broom. Unlike Moody's model, though, the cushioned seat in front of the bristles, as well as the two leg braces on either side of the handle, had thick belts to keep Harry in position and prevent him from slipping off during any number of daring maneuvers he was certain the Gryffindor still attempted.

It certainly wouldn't make for the fastest broom on the market, and far from the Firebolt his counterpart had, and in this configuration, the teen wouldn't be catching any snitches on the Gryffindor team – at least not in any official capacity - but the dozens of scratches and dents along the polished wood and the countless frayed bristles in the back told the story of a child who refused to let his injury impede his love for flying. Given how many times the blasted hobby nearly killed Potter, making Severus's obligation to protect him significantly more difficult, he grinned at the notion that this Harry could still find joy in it.

Just below the broom were various books and sheets of parchment scattered on the top of the bookcase, and while it seemed like the logical place to start his search, he'd have a harder time explaining himself if he were caught sifting through the bins below.

He quickly regretted beginning his search there.

The first three bins he pulled out were an organized collection of muggle medical supplies that no one would want others to sift through, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy. And the last two before he gave up on the lower part of the bookcase were stuffed full of old schoolwork, books, and broken quills. Interestingly, those two bins were the only parts of the entire house in any state of disarray, except for Severus's office he still hadn't seen.

Turning his attention back to the top of the bookcase, he found some intriguing information. The top-most parchment had Harry's timetable for the year; he would start the day in Severus's fifth-year Potions class.

Great.

Halfway hidden below his timetable, as if purposely keeping it out of sight from wandering eyes, was what looked to be schematics, or plans, of some kind. With the tip of his wand, Severus pushed the topmost book and timetable aside to reveal a set of bound parchment with hand-drawn pictures of the front of a building, followed by a rudimentary blueprint of a kitchen. A large, fully accessible kitchen, if Severus read the plans correctly. Not using his wand anymore, he flipped through the other sheets of parchment with similar hand-drawn plans: one each for a dining room, a bar, and a fruits and vegetable garden.

Is this… a restaurant?

Eyes narrowed in thought, he placed the parchment back onto the bookcase in the same position, and opened the book; which turned out to be a journal written in handwriting similar enough handwriting to the Potter he knew to assume it belonged to this Harry.

It's neater though, he noted. Makes sense. He grew up using a quill here, and it shows.

Like the bins, the journal didn't give him any information on his situation, however, it filled in a lot of blanks regarding his new stepson. A boy he was supposed to publicly adore. A boy who wanted to open his own restaurant after finishing Hogwarts; a farm-to-table experience starting at his own on-site garden.

The journal was Harry's business plan for his future endeavour and contained everything from potential names for his restaurant, locations, where he planned to use his start-up funding – courtesy of his Potter Trust –, and so many recipes Severus didn't even try to count them while scanning through the pages. They sounded like decent recipes too, which irrationally frustrated Severus to no end.

Out of all the careers Harry could go into with his skill in Charms – curse breaker, broom or wand maker, metal charmer, or even a Healer – it shouldn't have surprised him to see Harry pick a career as ambitious as a chef. But loathe as he was to admit it, the boy had thought out his plan well. It wasn't some thrown-together dream he had no hope of achieving given his disability. Yet instead of abandoning his dream, he spelt out – figuratively and literally – every challenge he'd face on his way, and provided logical solutions to them. And Severus couldn't find a single thing to criticise about it.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck Severus right in his back. Instinctively drawing his wand, he whipped around and pointed it at… Harry. Who was sitting in his wheelchair between the bathroom and his bed wearing only a pair of red pants underneath his shirtless top. If he felt awkward over Severus seeing him in such a manner, the only sign he showed was levitating a towel to drape over his legs.

"I said… 'Can I help you find something'?"

His emphasis on the first two words made it clear that while lost in the world Harry was trying to create, Severus missed the young wizard returning to his bedroom, demanding to know why his stepfather was rifling through his belongings. And then threw a quaffle at Severus when he didn't respond.

"Mum sent you, didn't she?" Harry asked, moving about his room with the purpose of someone who followed the same routine every morning, stopping when he was parallel to his bed and facing Severus. "I already told her… and you… that Fred and George made the swamp all on their own this time."

"This time?"

The glare from those strikingly green eyes, followed by the forcible push of the locks on his chair, told Severus he made a mistake by asking. Whatever the Gryffindor had done in the past, Severus was supposed to know about it because Harry confided in him about it. Regardless of Rosalie's warning, he still couldn't figure out how he, of all people, had become a confidant to Harry Potter. A series of minor events over time, he presumed, but his task here would be infinitely easier if he had access to all of that history, and the feelings associated with them, now.

"Your mother did not send me to spy on you." He inwardly cringed at the use of the position that had haunted him throughout his life. "She asked me to make sure you are up and getting ready."

"Of course she did," Harry replied, not so much as hesitating when he rolled his eyes; a gesture Severus would have backhanded his child for in a second over.

"You can't exactly blame her after yesterday morning's fiasco."

Harry shrugged, then transferred himself from his chair to the bed, taking a moment to rearrange his legs in front of him after pulling them up. Severus stood by, almost in awe, as the teen pulled the pieces of his uniform into place, ready to dress himself for the day.

"Uh, Severus? Are you planning on watching me or something?"

Harry's sharp words caught Severus off guard and he dropped the book he hadn't realized, until then, he was still holding, and the bang as it hit the smooth floor made them both startle.

"Merlin, Severus!" Harry exclaimed. "What's wrong with you lately?"

Like a cold bucket of water thrown in his face, looking at Harry sitting on his bed – wondering what the bloody hell happened to his usually composed stepfather – Severus steeled himself, promising to do better. To blend in despite not knowing which step was right and which would leave him scrambling to correct the misstep.

You were a spy for two of the most powerful wizards alive, he lectured himself.

Yet staring into the eyes of the child in front of him, his job for Voldemort and Albus seemed easier than navigating the life of this family man he landed in.

Do it, dammit, he asserted. Because there is no other option and you don't want to end up locked away at St Mungo's.

"Finish getting ready," he told Harry, nodding at the uniform next to the teen. "And we'll talk about this–" he picked up the book from the floor and waved it in the air, "–when your mother is occupied."

The calculated risk he took assuming Harry hadn't mentioned his restaurant plans to him, and that he didn't want Lily to know of them, paid off when the young wizard briskly shook his head.

He hadn't fully left the room when he heard Harry mutter, "He's gone completely barmy."

~~~HP~~~

"Blimey, Harry, you actually caught him snooping?" Ron asked, incredulously on Harry's behalf after he finished recounting the incident with Severus that morning. "D'you know if he took anything?"

Harry paused his chopping of the alihotsy leaves for the Invigoration Draught Severus had them reviewing, priding himself on the perfectly even, thin slices. Despite Harry's natural affinity towards Charms, Potions took the top spot as Harry's favourite Hogwarts class, much to his stepdad's pleasure. It reminded him of cooking, a pastime he enjoyed so much he was already pouring himself into how to turn his passion into his career. Yes, he knew he'd have obstacles to overcome, but where trying to solve everything at once might appear impossible, he always found solving one problem at a time to be the best approach to get through his life. It was why he kept a private journal – one he only shared with his friends – of every step he'd need to achieve his goals, exactly what Severus had been flipping through when Harry entered his bedroom that morning.

"I caught him looking through my notebook on the restaurant," Harry answered, shaking his head. "But nothing seemed to be missing, so I don't know what he was searching for.'

Ron paused his measuring of dried billywig stings to give a nervous glance up at the front of the room where their professor sat harshly marking papers.

"Let's be honest here, Harry," Ron leaned close to whisper. "It's Severus. If the man wanted to hide something from you, you'd never know it. Which means he probably wanted you to find him. So what happened after you caught him?"

"He… erm…" Harry hesitated, seriously debating how to best describe the awkward exchange." He just kind of stood there… staring at me… as I was about to get dressed."

Ron blinked. Then blinked again. And right as Harry was about to claim they were reading too much into it, the redhead asked, louder than Harry would have liked, "Like some kind of perv?"

"Ronald!" Hermione curtly reprimanded him, slamming down a basket of ingredients from the cupboard on her's and Draco's table in front of Harry and Ron's.

She really couldn't have returned at the absolute worst part of Harry's story.

"First," she went on lecturing, "he's our professor and deserves some respect. Second–"

"So what?" Ron interrupted to defend himself. "Professor, step-parent… all I'm saying is, how well do you really know a person?"

"He's not wrong, Hermione," Draco chimed in, earning himself one of Hermione's signature glares; a rarity towards the Slytherin lately.

Ever since their first year, Harry partnered up with Draco during Potions. Similar to Harry's ability in Charms, Potions came naturally to Draco, although he didn't love the subject as much as Harry. It's why they made such a formidable team in the class, out-scoring every other combination of partners – with Hermione and Ron as a close second – and why Draco's sudden change of partner to Hermione was yet another example of the couple's shift from friends to "more than friends".

And it annoyed Harry more than he wanted it to.

Draco had been Harry's friend first - and then, against all odds, Ron's. Draco wouldn't have even given Hermione the time of day if Ron and Harry hadn't become friends with her after the fight with Theodore Nott on Halloween their first year. Harry, with Ron grudgingly in tow, had come to Hermione's defense by using a levitation spell to knock the gangly Slytherin out with a Beater's Bat. Harry ended up with four weeks of detention, but they added a new friend, bringing their trio to a quartet.

"I'm talking about the getting caught part. Not the other thing," Draco clarified with a disgusted grimace. "I can guarantee you Severus has already been through all of Harry's shite… probably more than once… so the question he should ask is why did he want to be caught this time?"

Harry frowned, looking up from his preparations to watch Severus sort through the mess of revision essays on his desk.

Were his friends right? Had the man wanted Harry to find him in his bedroom? With his bath routine planned out almost to the minute, there was no way Severus didn't know when he'd be done and returned to his bedroom. On the other hand, he'd been acting odd the last two days, and he seemed legitimately shocked at Harry's presence; so much so, he'd missed Harry's first two warnings.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione pull a bundle of scurvy grass from her basket of ingredients, one notably missing from the pile of untouched ingredients on his and Ron's table. This was why Harry liked their old partners: while Harry excelled in brewing technique, Draco and Hermione knew the Potions. So Hermione helped Ron and Draco helped Harry, making it a win-win between the four of them. Now, Harry and Ron had to work twice as hard to remember all the ingredients and steps needed.

"Ron," Harry said, interrupting an unheard conversation between the three others with an elbow to his friend's arm. He pointed at Hermione's neat pile. "They have scurvy grass."

Confused, Ron picked through everything on their table and then flipped through his notes. "I don't have scurvy written down."

"Then I guess it's a good thing we're revising before we take the O.W.L.s," Harry told him. Ready to get going on their assignment, he plucked the basket off the table and placed it on his lap to go get the ingredient himself. Backing up carefully, he asked, "And can you check if it's in my notes? I know Severus is going to ask me what I forgot and I want to make sure it's there."

Helping his stepdad organise the Potions cupboard before the start of every term meant Harry knew exactly where to go to find their missing ingredient. But while his professors had done everything they could throughout the years to accommodate Harry's disability – such as lowering his desk and table height, assigning seats so he didn't have to navigate stairs, and keeping things within his easy reach – the Potions cupboard didn't have enough space to not have to utilise the upper shelves. For their first three years, Severus selected their ingredients anyway, so he'd always have whatever they needed available. However, to prepare for their O.W.L.s, he stopped that practice in fourth year and since then Harry could summon whatever he needed if it was on an upper shelf, and then levitate it back up.

With the correct supplies in hand, the brewing process itself went rather smoothly. They finished preparing everything with Harry making sure each step was timed perfectly and Ron adding in the ingredients at his direction. Once the cauldrons were simmering over the fire for the next thirteen minutes, Harry tossed a stem of the lovage at Draco, hitting the wizard in the centre of his white blonde head.

Effective, Draco turned around with a sigh. "I'm going to have to start sitting behind you from now on if you don't stop throwing things at me."

"It'd be bloody easier for me to get your attention, although less fun," Harry replied. He waited for a witty comeback, but Draco merely waved his hand for Harry to continue. "I've got therapy this afternoon, are you joining me? Figured you'd want to get as many sessions in before quidditch finals." He pointed his thumb to Ron next to him. "Ron's coming."

Physical therapy had been a major part of Harry's life for as long as he could remember. Not only did it help him keep his upper body strong, so he could move about as easily as possible, but it also helped his lower body with things like increasing his circulation and decreasing his spasms. It didn't get rid of the spasms completely, unfortunately, and neither did his potions for them, but when he had to miss a session or two, he definitely noticed.

He used to go to St Mungo's for therapy until Harry started at Hogwarts and his mum and Severus quickly realized that between classes and waiting for Severus to help him commute he missed too many afternoon therapy appointments. A few meetings with the Board of Governors had Dumbledore providing space, and a magical therapist for him, in an unused classroom where he spent Severus's open office hours after classes. This year, at the recommendation of his healer, they added several muggle weight machines which the quidditch teams loved to use, so Draco and Ron often accompanied Harry during his therapy.

"Harry," Hermione hissed, peeking back and forth between him and Severus helping Hannah Abbott in the front row, "you missed studying yesterday. And we're going over Charms today."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, Hermione, I really do, but I probably could have passed my Charms N.E.W.T. by the end of last year–"

"Well, some of us need a wider diversity," Hermione chided. "Including Ron and Draco."

"Oi," Ron finally said, getting thrown into the conversation, "leave me out of this. I've got my own stuff to focus on."

Draco chuckled. "And by 'stuff' he means doing everything he can to make sure they don't lose to us at the next match."

"Boys… There is more to life than quidditch."

The three wizards let out a collective gasp, earning them a warning from Severus and a reminder to watch their cauldrons.

"And Harry," Hermione muttered under her breath once Severus returned to his desk, preoccupied with the essays once again, "did you ever stop to consider that we could use your help with the Charms revision sometime? Part of studying collectively is getting to benefit from each other's strengths."

Harry sighed in embarrassment. She had a point, and one he should have considered before she had to blatantly point it out to him.

But right as he was about to ask her if they could swap their post-lunch Transfiguration studying with their after-school Charms, a loud knock on the door behind them had the entire room turning around just in time to see Remus enter the classroom.

"What's the meaning of this Lupin?" Severus bellowed, sneering at the interruption.

Somehow, between the dozen cauldrons bubbling, the room went impossibly silent as they waited for their Defense professor's answer.

"Albus needs you, Severus," Remus replied, and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood straight up at the hint of anxiety in his voice. "He said it's urgent."