Chapter 50

White Magic

xxx

Living in Gryffindor Tower offered its fair share of advantages. One of the perks of living with a group of noisy boys, Harry liked to think, was that the commotion of the dormitory at breakfast time always served as an effective wakeup call.

This morning, however, it served as little more than an annoyance; for Harry had already been awake for several hours.

As he lay in his bed with the curtains pulled closed, he contemplated whether or not he should join his comrades in the mass exodus down to breakfast. This morning, a warm plate of bangers and eggs did not seem enough incentive to brave the chaos of the Great Hall in his current state of exhaustion.

He shouldn't have been so tired, and he certainly shouldn't have been so stressed. He had put himself to bed rather early the previous evening; Severus had kept him occupied right up until curfew, but after that, he had dutifully returned to his dormitory. It was not a conscious decision to stay awake; it was only that his rapidly firing brain would not give him a moment's peace in which he could find rest.

It had been a long week for Harry, and he couldn't deny that while he was in desperate need of a weekend, he also had a bad feeling about his Father's intentions for taking him away for the entire duration. When he had been reminded of the trip the previous evening, he had sensed an unspoken promise in Snape's words. The promise seemed to be to discover whatever Harry was hiding for him… and with his many years spent as a spy, a Professor, and above all, a Slytherin, Harry was certain there was nothing he could conceal from the Potions Master if he was trying to discover it.

Not that Harry was really hiding anything, he excused to himself. Certainly, he had neglected to tell him what his friends had revealed…but not without reason. Now, with Severus already suspicious and with a full weekend of uninterrupted father and son time ahead of them, Harry needed to find a way to reveal what he had been told without upsetting the delicate balance between his Father's wrath and approval.

"Harry?" called a voice through his curtains, and Harry groaned instantly. "Mate?"

"What, Ron?" called Harry irritably, covering his face with a pillow as Ron yanked the crimson curtains aside and peered in at Harry.

"You're going to miss breakfast."

After yet another sleepless night, Harry's state was rapidly deteriorating, and he did not have the patience to explain how desperately he needed some time in the empty dormitory before starting his day of classes. However, the expectant expression Ron wore as he waited for Harry to get out of bed was not one to be argued with. For one split second, Harry could almost swear he saw Mrs. Weasley peering out from behind Ron's pale eyes, beseeching him to eat.

"Fine," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. He quickly changed into his school uniform and began looking about for his loafers.

Ron waited impatiently, and when Harry began to look for his tie, he finally objected, "There's no time for that, Harry. Breakfast started minutes ago, we have to go. Well?" he insisted, when Harry had followed him to the door. "Come on, then! One day without a tie won't kill you."

"Fine, fine," Harry agreed, jogging a few steps forward to catch up with Ron, who was already heading quickly down the dormitory stairs. Ron continued to move quickly as he moved toward the portrait hole; Harry almost needed to trot to keep up with him.

Ron disappeared from sight for just a moment as he exited the common room; just behind him, Harry leapt through the portrait hole, trying to catch up. As he arrived on the other side, however, he abruptly collided with Ron's lanky form, stumbling over him as the other boy fell forward.

Everything was a tangle of limbs and robes as Harry and Ron struggled to disengage from each other and stand upright. Ron's face was furious and red as he straightened his robes, but Harry, for his part, was not concerned with his friend's embarrassment.

With folded arms, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, and a hooded gaze, Professor Snape leaned against the wall there, looking simultaneously sinister and amused.

"In a hurry, I see," he remarked as the two boys stood there lamely, unable to invent an appropriate response.

"Yes, just seeing that Harry here gets some breakfast in him," said Ron somewhat breathlessly. "So, we'll be going now—"

"Not so fast, Mr. Weasley," Severus intoned, looking down his angular nose at the two boys. "Harry will not be joining you, this morning."

Ron's objection to this was clear; he instantly scowled and looked to Harry, as though asking permission to retaliate. Harry shook his head, and waved a hand at him. "Go ahead, Ron. I'm not hungry, anyway."

"Well," said Ron brusquely, pausing as he straightened his robes. He looked Severus up and down in a fashion that caused the older man to glare, but he didn't seem to care what response he earned. "Alright, then. I'll see you later, Harry."

Ron cast one more glance in Severus' direction; the Potions Master met his gaze with ferocity, but said nothing. Harry privately wished his friend would not challenge his Father so blatantly when he had to deal with him immediately after.

When Ron had gone, Severus unfolded his arms and stepped away from the wall, coming to where Harry stood.

"So, what's going on?" inquired Harry, familiar anxiety rising.

"I have noticed," started Severus; Harry braced himself. "That your marks have improved significantly as of late."

"Oh," said Harry, frowning in suspended disbelief. He waited for Severus to continue; he was not giving anything away until he knew where this was going.

"I thought, given the stress of the past several weeks and how far we have fallen behind in our personal pursuits, you might enjoy a day away from classes."

"I—what?" asked Harry, dumbfounded. This could not be the same Father who mere minutes ago had stared down his friend as though he was about to devour him whole.

"I have spoken to your other Professors," Severus continued easily, as though Harry was not standing there with his chin scuffing the stone floor beneath them, "and I've collected today's lessons for you; they should not be difficult."

"Okay…" replied Harry guardedly. "Why?"

"Did I not explain myself?" Severus inquired levelly. "We have rather a lot to accomplish this weekend; I would prefer to begin earlier rather than later."

Harry raised his eyebrows, exhaled audibly, and shook his head. "If you say so," he agreed in the same tone of disbelief; he made no attempt to mask his suspicion. "I'll gather my things."

Severus nodded. "I will wait here."

When Harry re-emerged from the common room several minutes later, Severus was standing in the exact position Harry had left him in, and Harry's expression remained unaltered.

"How do I know you're not an imposter, attempting to kidnap me?" asked Harry as he and his Father began to walk side by side.

Severus glanced sideways at his son, a one-sided smile forming at the corners of his lips. "Ask me anything."

"What did I give you for Christmas this year?"

"A location orb, spelled specifically to you," replied Severus at once, staring straight ahead.

Satisfied, Harry ceased his questioning and followed Severus through the castle.

It was not easy to withhold the barrage of questions assaulting Harry as he contemplated Severus' motives for taking him out of Hogwarts a day early. They seemed superficially benign, and yet so complex when he took into account all the factors at play. In fact, Harry realized, Severus' true motivations were probably so complex that his time would be better spent coming with a plan of diversion.

And that is exactly where Harry's thoughts drifted as he obediently followed his Father to their destination.

xxx

"Stow your things upstairs," ordered Severus as he and Harry entered the house and stored their travelling cloaks. "Then, see Tibby in the kitchen if you would like some breakfast. I will be waiting for you in the study when you have finished."

"Okay," said Harry, looking just as mistrusting as when Severus had pulled him away from Hogwarts not an hour earlier. Severus waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching his son ascend, and then went directly to the study.

As he organized the reading material that he intended Harry learn, Severus considered the way he should approach this coming weekend. It would be beneficial to finally have the boy away from the influence of his friends; Miss Granger's curiosity and Mr. Weasley's brashness both seemed to be affecting Harry's already increased penchant for investigating things that ought not to concern him. He was certain that had he not been proactive in removing Harry from Hogwarts this weekend, the temptation to start trouble would surely have won out over him.

At the same time as Severus valued having his son away from outside influences, he was also concerned over how a weekend on their own would play out. He was conscious of his own brusque nature, even more so after the events of the prior week. He hoped that by giving the boy a day off of classes, he might ease some of the tension that caused him to act out, at times.

Having spent the majority of his adult life under extreme pressure, Severus sometimes failed to recognize when Harry was becoming overwhelmed. It had taken more than one uncomfortable, and certainly unwelcome, conversation with the Headmaster to realize where Harry's behavior was stemming from.

There was wisdom in the Headmaster's advice, little as Severus liked to admit it. He begrudgingly realized that the old man had been closely watching Harry since he had come to Hogwarts. It was often more comfortable to treat Harry like a student than a son. It was never intentional; it was merely habit. It was his preferred method of dealing with children.

He thought that perhaps, with several days removed from Hogwarts, the two of them could interact in a different and more comfortable dynamic.

The frustrating part of this, however, was that it was very difficult to make Harry feel comfortable and safe when he was perpetually acting as though he had something to hide. Severus had to remind himself not to become overly occupied with this annoying fact; for now, whatever Harry was hiding from him did not appear to be an immediate problem. He hadn't pulled any daring stunts since their confrontation at the hospital wing weeks prior, and with Severus guarding him watchfully, he wouldn't have any opportunities, either. Severus had to content himself with that knowledge and focus on the task at hand.

The trouble would be getting the boy to let his guard down. If they were to begin strengthening his magic, he would need to place his faith in Severus. With regret, Severus realized now why Albus had been warning him to take a gentler approach for so long. He knew he had high expectations for the boy, but this had always been the case.

Severus was not normally a man who welcomed change. It seemed strange to him now to think that this deceivingly small, childlike adolescent would soon reach the age of majority and once again confront the wizard so terrifying that no one would speak his name. It was a foreign concept, to him, to be a mentor rather than a disciplinarian. He had little experience in this new arena. He hadn't realized what the job entailed.

A labored sigh escaped Severus as he sank into the worn leather chair behind his office desk. He leaned into his own hands as he massaged his temples, eyes drifting closed as he willed away the headache forming at the front of his cortex. He was weary of being in a constant state of peril. His relationship with Harry was volatile, to say the least. Every day, he felt as though he held the boy's life in the palm of his hand, depending on how he instructed him. He constantly felt as though he would soon be taken from him, forced to make a sacrifice he never should have been asked to make.

The pressure of it all set him on edge; he felt as though he would be able to enjoy nothing until he saw Harry through to the end. There was a small part of him that realized, however, that he was wasting the short time they might have until whatever end that might be.

When the Dark Lord had tired of sending his minions into Severus' presence, hoping to glean information from him, Severus knew he would act on his life. For now, he was difficult to reach; safe inside Hogwarts' walls, it was not worth the effort for Voldemort to come after him now. Once his spies indicated that they were no longer gaining use from him, however, he was certain his value would finally diminish completely. Then, he worried what the outcome would be. Though his parentage offered an advantage to Harry, it also presented a weakness.

Severus felt himself being watched, and his black eyes snapped to life. Leaning against the door frame at the entrance of the study was Harry, watching him thoughtfully.

"You looked relaxed," Harry offered, pushing away from the wall and moving toward the desk. "I thought perhaps you didn't wish to be disturbed."

"I would not use the term relaxed so much as focused," said Severus gently. "We have rather a lot to get to, this weekend."

The apprehension that Severus was becoming accustomed to seeing in Harry flashed across the boy's face, but upon noticing the stack of books in front of him, he looked oddly relieved. Severus could see that he was still nervous about some unnamed subject, but reminded himself not to press for information. There were far more important matters at stake.

"Have a seat," commanded Severus gently, for Harry still stood in front of the desk. "I would like to explain some things to you before we get started."

Harry looked unsure of how to respond, and so he simply sat and waited for Severus to instruct him further.

"I have mentioned to you that I wished you to delve deeper into the strength of White Magic, Harry. I regret that we have not started sooner; I am afraid we became rather preoccupied with other matters over this year. Now, however, we will begin. Harry, what do you know of this subject?"

"Well," said Harry, looking unsure of how to answer, "I know that it is the opposite of dark magic."

"It is not quite as simple as that," Severus corrected him at once. "It is not an art of creating spells and curses that cannot be defeated by normal means; its strength depends very much on the strength within the witch or wizard who practices it. It is a means of calling on the power at your very core to perform feats far greater than those simple wand-waving can produce. It is not for the average wizard."

"How do you know that I will be able to produce it, if it takes such power?"

"That seems a rather foolish question," said Severus gently, humored by Harry's uncharacteristic humility. "You already have the inclination, Harry. It is the reason you survived the Dark Lord's original attack."

"White Magic?"

"Yes, your Mother's," responded Severus softly, breaking eye contact. "And your connection to her."

Longing briefly graced Severus' face before the wince was replaced with a blank stare. He looked back up at Harry, and as though he had never paused in the first place, he continued.

"At the end of her life, your Mother was deeply entrenched in the study of White Magic in the Department of Mysteries. She meditated frequently, did exercises to improve her strength, and eventually, could create works of magic almost unheard of. Her findings are published in tomes, secured deep within the Ministry itself. She was a great witch, Harry, as I am sure you have been told many times.

"It was this power that attracted the Dark Lord to your Mother in the first place. I sometimes believe that he lured me to his side only so that she might follow. When he heard the prophecy, however, his attraction to her magic became an immediate threat.

"At the point in my life when Lily was lost to us forever, I had already lost her long before. It did not lessen the pain of the blow, however; and in my grief, I did not realize the true reason the Dark Lord had sought after her. I was ignorant of her true power and in denial about your importance to us. I assumed that you had been saved solely by her power; I did not see that it was the strength of her love for you that created something even more powerful than magic produced by wand alone.

"Years later, when Dumbledore began to unravel the mystery of how you had survived, I took it upon myself to research what she had learned in her time spent at the Department of Mysteries. Her own findings, coupled with the notes of those who studied with her, are all here." Severus laid a hand on the stack of thick books and loose parchments piled atop his desk.

"All that remains stowed away in the Department of Mysteries, I have secured duplicates of over the years through various connections. I think you will find these as useful as I have, if not more so. In addition to the instruction I can offer you, you can be taught by your Mother as well."

When at last Severus fell silent, he was taken aback by the mixture of emotions contorting Harry's face. He looked as though he were unsure whether to smile or to frown, as though he was replaying everything Severus had said and was struggling to make sense of it. He reached an unsteady hand toward the stack of tomes, and looked to Severus for approval. "May I?"

"Certainly," said Severus, placing the first of the books into Harry's hands. "You have as much right to these as I do."

"Why not show me these earlier?" asked Harry as he turned the pages gingerly, as though terrified his soft touch might be the undoing of books which had survived the last several decades.

"I regret to admit that I thought you were not yet ready," said Severus honestly.

"What changed?" Harry still hadn't taken his eyes of the notes in front of him.

"My definition of 'ready' changed."

At this, Harry paused in the middle of flipping a page, his eyes meeting Severus'.

"I realize," intoned Severus, "that we may never be fully prepared for what's to come. With the potion mere months from completion, it is not practical for me to expect you to reach late adulthood before I allow you to learn anything new."

"That's all I wanted you to understand, before," said Harry, wondering where this calm, rational Severus had been three weeks ago.

"Allow me to be perfectly clear," responded Severus, pointing a long finger in Harry's direction as the usual sternness returned to his voice. "You did a poor job of communicating with me, before. I admit I am not without fault, but you must also realize that I can only react to the behavior you display. I am trusting you, Harry, to keep your word to me. I am attempting to stay true to mine."

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding solemnly. He glanced back down at his lap; a monochromatic, stationary picture of his Mother wrapped in a simple, white, Roman style robe stared serenely back up at him. As he gazed back down on it, he realized how much it would have meant to her if she could see Severus and him coming together over her work, now.

"Take the day," said Severus, rising from his seat. "Take the day to learn what you can from the books here, and tomorrow, we will put it into practice."

Harry nodded, and Severus excused himself quietly from the study, leaving Harry there in peace. It was the first time Harry could ever remember having been so ecstatic to embark on what Hermione might have referred to as a 'bit of light reading'.

xxx

When the sun had buried its face behind the tree line, leaving only a reminiscent red glow in the darkening sky, Harry's conspicuous absence finally spurred Severus to action. It had been hours since he'd seen hide or tail of the boy; he had left him to his own devices for a majority of the day while he worked on his own in the lab.

Oddly, the day had been therapeutic for Severus. It had been quite some time since he'd been able to spend hours on end concentrating on a single task; not a single thought about whether his son was getting into trouble had crossed his mind. Dumbledore had not interrupted him once. None of the other Heads of House had come to him with complaints about how he was treating their students. Malfoy and Kinnaird were far, far away, unable to bid for his attention as they normally did.

And now, as he drew close to the study where he had left his son hours before, the faint glow of candlelight streaming through the open doorway told Severus that Harry was still concentrating on the task to which he'd been set. He was unsure whether or not to be surprised; he had known Harry would appreciate the opportunity to learn more about his Mother. He had simply worried that the sheer volume of the research would be too much to hold his attention. Harry, he had learned, was more of a hands-on learner.

Severus rapped his knuckles lightly on the door frame as he entered the study. From his place at the desk, Harry looked up at his Father. Severus was surprised when he smiled sadly.

"Do you find these helpful?" inquired Severus as he approached the desk and took a seat in front of it.

Harry nodded. "They are… but they are not what I expected."

"How so?"

"I assumed they would be like textbooks. They are closer to diaries."

"They are," Severus agreed, searching his expression. "I have not read them all. The first several were difficult to digest."

"She speaks of you often," Harry observed quietly. "Why would she give these to the Ministry?"

Severus took a long, steady breath and leaned back in his chair. "White Magic is an ancient branch of magic, Harry. There is not much that is understood about it because it predates the streamlining of magic as we know and understand it today. Now, we use wands and spells to harness magical power and accomplish specific tasks. Magic originally manifested itself as a way to draw energy from the surrounding environment; it mimics the accidental magic performed by magical youth.

"Your Mother proposed that by harnessing this power through the individual, rather than through the wand, one could become extremely powerful when the two combined. She used herself as the test subject for this hypothesis. Working for the Department of Mysteries at the time, she catalogued her experiences so that her progress could be better understood. It was by learning to channel her emotions that she learned how to concentrate the energy that normally flows unchecked through every Witch or Wizard. She wrote of the ways she focused her mind during meditation; it would appear she focused on me quite often."

"It appears as if these are written over years," said Harry. "But, we don't have years."

"Yes," Severus breathed, tension dominating his expression. "I hope that by allowing you to view your Mother's work as a precursor to my instruction, you will learn quickly. I believe you have the inclination; your emotions dominate your magic even now. I am certain that if you can learn to channel them as Lily did, you will fare well."

"I hope so."

Harry looked exhausted, Severus observed. The skin around his eyes seemed permanently tinged with purple, and his hair and wardrobe were a disheveled mess.

"Harry," he said gently, leaning forward and catching the boy's gaze in his own. "We have wasted too much time at odds with each other. We may have little time left. There is so much to accomplish."

Harry nodded in agreement, but said nothing. He appeared unable to fully meet Severus' eyes.

"Let us focus now on righting those wrongs," Severus suggested. "I will not rest until I see you reach your full potential. I realize I am often overbearing; I am hard on you only because I wish for you to succeed."

"We definitely have a long history of antagonizing each other," Harry agreed. "It's hard not to react to you the way I am used to."

Severus chuckled under his breath. "Likewise, it has not been easy for me to control my temper when confronted with your antics. You seem to have made a career out of defying me. Perhaps it is the lack of mutual respect from which the problem stems."

"I respect you—"

"The lack of display, then," Severus amended with a dubious lifting of the eyebrow.

"Fine," Harry agreed, crossing his arms. "So what can we do about it?"

"We must agree to focus on what is important. It is inevitable that we quarrel, Harry, as long as we are concentrating on who is right. Albus insists that we must learn to 'agree to disagree', whatever tripe that is."

"So…" Harry replied in inquiry.

"As little as I care for the Headmaster's unsolicited advice, I am forced to admit that he understands you in a way I cannot begin to comprehend. I will endeavor," he stated grudgingly, resentment edging its way into his formerly mellow expression, "to place more confidence in your actions and temper my own reactions to you."

Harry almost smiled at this, until Severus added harshly, "If, that is, you agree to do the same. I will not brook your disrespect."

"I suppose that's reasonable," agreed Harry. He paused, a pained expression crossing his face. Frowning, he added, "I am sorry, I know I test your patience—"

Severus waved his hand irritably, cutting him off. "Let us not waste time on apologies," he commanded at once. "Let us instead remember not to repeat our past mistakes."

"Right," said Harry, looking down at his hands. "Okay."

Harry appeared to withdraw into himself for several minutes; Severus sat across from him, observing the odd display of emotion, and frowned. He imagined that his son was feeling a bit uncomfortable, uncertain how to respond.

"Get to bed, Harry," Severus instructed in a firm but kind voice. "You clearly need your rest. You'll be of no use tomorrow if you are overcome by stress."

Harry nodded, appearing relieved, and stood to straighten the desk he'd been working on. Severus rose as well, preparing to leave the study.

"Practice Occlumency before you sleep, tonight," he suggested as he moved towards the door. "You'll need a clear mind, in the morning. Goodnight, Harry," he bid gently.

"Goodnight, Dad," Harry replied quietly behind him.

Severus' small smile was almost imperceptible as he turned and left the room.

xxx

As Harry and Severus came to a halt in front of the door to the one room that still held so much mystery to Harry, he couldn't keep a certain sense of apprehension from creeping into his mind. There was something strange about entering a room so saturated with his Mother's memory.

Harry glanced up at his Father anxiously, and saw that the man was intently watching his face while his immobile hand rested on the door handle. There was a question in his eyes; Harry nodded, and Severus opened the door.

Severus gestured wordlessly for Harry to step inside, and he did as he was told. Severus followed, closing the door behind them.

"Sit," Severus commanded simply, and Harry obliged. There was no furniture in the room upon which he could sit, and so he moved to the center and sank to the floor. He folded one leg under the other, and Severus joined him there. "Set your wand to the side."

Harry did as he was asked; he felt suddenly empty, as though the symbolism of abandoning his wand had literally weakened him.

The room was, as he had expected, primarily white. The walls were lined with mirrors; he could see himself from all angles. A circle of unlit candles surrounded him and his Father; they were perfectly aligned with the center of the room. Above, dozens of crystals were suspended in the air, hovering eerily above them. The windows of the room were green and blue stained glass, and the ocean accented hues were reflected off of the many colorless surfaces.

It was quiet. The only sound was the clinking of crystal against crystal as they swayed above them. They reminded him of muggle wind chimes.

Along the edges of the room were glass tables upon which sat translucent, smoky orbs. They looked distinctly like the crystal balls he had seen in Trelawney's classroom before, but white clouds swirled within them as though they housed their own atmospheres.

"Harry."

The deep voice brought Harry to attention, and he diverted his gaze from his surroundings and stared at the man in front of him.

Like Harry, Snape sat cross legged in the middle of the floor. His expression was one of extreme concentration; his face looked hard, as though he were forcing away whatever emotion this room inspired in him.

"The first thing we will concentrate on is the centering of your mind," said Severus in a low, quiet voice; it was though he could not raise it above a few decibels, for fear of shattering the seemingly delicate room. "It is similar to Occlumency, and yet different in the fact that rather than suppressing your emotions, I would like you to concentrate on them.

"Close your eyes."

Harry did as he was asked, and was surprised at the emotion that overcame him as he did so. It seemed that the energy of the room was a strong mixture of tranquility and passion; he felt completely safe here, as though no danger could come from this place. Simultaneously, he was moved by the power of the room, unsure whether to cry tears of sorrow or joy. A shiver shook his frame, his shoulders shuddering with the movement.

Warm hands grasped Harry's; at first, he stiffened.

"Relax."

Willing his anxiety away, Harry attempted to calm himself. His efforts had no immediate effect.

"Breathe," Severus' low voice instructed quietly. "Inhale slowly."

Harry did as he was told; steadily, he drew air into his lungs, his chest expanding. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Now, exhale. Again, slowly."

Harry emitted a long, heavy sigh. As he did, he hung his head, his chin pressing closer to his chest.

"Clear your mind, as you have done in our Occlumency lessons. Picture yourself in the center of a room totally devoid of distraction; it is bright, pure, and safe."

Harry took several more deep breaths, and then pictured himself standing in the middle of a totally blank space. It seemed that the brightness of the room around him leaked through his eyelids; a blinding light blurred his vision, erasing the complex thoughts that usually lurked in the back of his mind.

Harry took in a sharp breath of cool air; he willed himself to think less and envision more.

Around him, he erected walls of glass; he shut every distraction out, placing it on the outside of the walls. As he had when he had finally mastered Occlumency, he envisioned placing all of his anxiety into a small, secure box, setting it aside to be dealt with later.

"Now," intoned Severus', as though he could feel Harry's mind finally coming up blank. "I want you to concentrate on the primary emotion you were feeling before you entered this room."

Harry frowned unconsciously, and he opened his mouth to object—wasn't he supposed to dispel the emotions that were keeping him from concentrating?

"Do not speak," Severus instructed firmly. "Think."

Harry struggled to suppress the frustration that surged as Severus instructed him to do something that seemed not only impossible, but also ill-advised. As he had been asked, however, he concentrated on the anxiety he had felt before entering the room. As if they had just hatched, butterflies began to flutter in his abdomen.

"Good," said Severus.

"I thought I was supposed to have a clear mind," Harry growled quietly, taking his cue from Severus and keeping his voice low. His eyes remained closed, though he longed to open them.

"You will not always have a clear mind when you need to perform, Harry," Severus reminded him. "You must learn to use whatever feeling you have to empower yourself. You must be able to clear your mind at an instant, saving your energy, and then unleashing it when the moment is right."

Though he felt it was impossible to perform any magic in such a state, Harry allowed anxiety to overcome him. He thought of his Mother, who had passed so long ago. He admitted to himself the nervousness his Father evoked from him in an instructional setting. He thought about the reason he was sitting in the middle of this room, trying to fortify himself against Voldemort's advances.

Before he had realized what was happening, dread overcame him. It was as though his mind was so clean a slate that it instantly absorbed the enormity of whatever emotion occurred in him. He at once felt as though he needed to escape an unknown enemy; he wanted to shake his hands from Severus' grip, spring to his feet, and flee the room. Breathing was suddenly difficult; he gasped for air, pulling away from Severus.

The older man held his hands firmly, tugging him back towards him.

"Your fear is a powerful motivator, Harry," he said gently, without trying to alleviate the boy's symptoms. Harry's breathing became shallow and short; he felt as though he was running out of oxygen. The strength of his emotion was overwhelming. His face contorted as though he was enduring extreme pain; yet, physically, he felt nothing.

It was all in his mind. The thought stalled the advancing sensations of fear, and yet did not cure them.

"Breathe," Severus reminded him once again, his voice perfectly tranquil.

"I—can't," Harry gasped, finally wresting his hands from Severus' grasp.

Severus' hands gripped Harry's knees tightly, his fingertips digging into him, and Harry winced. He leaned back, attempting to free himself, but it was as though there was a solid barrier between him and reality; he was so deep into the world he himself had constructed, he could not escape.

It was only his Father's strong voice and grip that kept him anchored in reality, reminding him that he was not beyond aid. "Do not give up," his voice said firmly. "Focus. What will make you feel better?"

Harry didn't know how to answer the question; he shook his head.

"Focus your anxiety, Harry. Picture a glass ball, similar to those that line the walls of this room. It contains the cure to your terror."

This seemed incomprehensible. The orbs in the room… what did they contain?

"Shatter it."

Harry reached for his wand, but Severus' long fingers wrapped around his wrist before he grasped it.

"Shatter your anxiety," Severus instructed again.

"How?" asked Harry frantically, on the verge of hyperventilation, now.

"Picture the reason for your fear, Harry. Inhale. Envision it. What is the source?"

"Voldemort."

"No—the source of the fear you are experiencing now, Harry. The emotion you have felt since entering the room; where did it originate? You needn't answer aloud. Visualize it."

Just as Harry had before stored his overwhelming feelings into a mental prison, he now thought back to them. He did not fully understand his anxiety; he only knew it was there. It had something to do with his Father, with his Mother, with the frightening thought of failure at something so important.

"Exhale," Severus reminded him.

Harry forced the stale air from his lungs. Shatter it. That is what Severus had told him.

His free hand reached out in front of him; it was beyond him now to grasp the impracticality of reaching for something unseen. With his hand extended, he felt as though power thrummed through him. His arm quaked with the sensation of it.

"Name your fears, Harry, in your head. Repeat them to yourself."

Concentration etched lines into his youthful skin, and his limbs began to tremble.

Voldemort.

Failure.

Dumbledore

Mistrust.

Severus. Lily.

Uncertainty.

Ron, Hermione.

Duty.

"Shatter it," ordered Severus, seemingly in the distance.

Harry's whole body convulsed, as though he were moving to physically destroy something; across the room, he heard something shatter. A soft rain of shards pelted against him; he flinched, but Severus held him steady. He felt no pain.

"Again."

The list of words ran through Harry's mind as he pictured another glass orb exploding. As before, he heard the explosion and felt the impact.

"Again."

It was not until they had repeated the cycle several times that Harry finally felt his panic ebbing away. It was strangely satisfying, destroying the environment around him. When Severus seemed confident that he had exhausted the source of his intensity, he reached gently forward and guided Harry's arm back to a resting position at his side.

"Open your eyes," he said gently.

Harry's formerly rigid shoulders relaxed, and he opened his eyes slowly. Instantly, a look of surprise registered on his face. His eyes darted around the room, and then focused questioningly on Severus.

None of the orbs were broken. They were not surrounded in a pile of broken glass. But Harry had heard the explosions; he had felt the physical evidence of the power he'd wielded on them.

"What—"

"This is a safe environment for you to practice in, Harry," Severus explained. "At your level, you could not destroy this room unless you physically did so. This is a place for you to focus your mind and learn to control your magic in a whole different way."

"Then, how do I know I've accomplished anything?"

"How do you feel, Harry?"

"Like I've gone mad."

Severus' expression effectively scolded him. "Don't be flippant. Look around. Do you see anything different?"

Harry frowned and scanned the room. It seemed the same as when they had entered. The crystals hanging above them swayed with a little more force, creating a soft musical backdrop that hadn't previously existed. The candles around them were in the same place. Looking up, Harry observed the orbs that he'd thought he was shattering. Most of them were still cloudy spheres of white…but a few, he noticed, glowed pastel orange. He could almost see the color receding as he watched them. He looked back to Severus.

"They act as shock absorbents, Harry. If you were to touch one in its active state, it might feel like a hot coal. The more strength you pour into them, the longer it will take for them to return to their original state. They are a great measure of the power you produce."

Harry sighed, and tried to verbalize his feelings. It was difficult to find the words. "I suppose I feel…relaxed…bordering on drained."

"You should," Severus said with some satisfaction. "You have done very well, for your first time."

Severus stood, and offered a hand to Harry. Harry accepted and Severus pulled him to his feet. As they left, Harry cast one more look around the room. It seemed alight with magic, even more than it had originally. The energy of the room was now utterly transformed, as though it now held the anxiety Harry had been burdened by upon entering.

Severus closed the door behind him, and Harry felt as though something heavy had literally been lifted from his troubled mind. He looked to Severus and smiled softly. Though the older man didn't return the smile, it seemed to Harry that approval lit his dark eyes. Otherwise, however, his face displayed no emotion.

Harry looked to Severus, whose behavior seemed rather peculiar. It seemed that all the anxiety Harry had expelled during their session of White Magic had been transferred to his Father; his expression was so closed, Harry was certain he was reining the intensity of his emotions. With that thought, he asked, "Is it possible… is it alright, for you to be in the room with me, when I am practicing?"

Severus nodded solemnly as he turned away from the door and began walking. "Inside the circle of candles, we are both quite sheltered from any magical upheavals."

Harry followed Severus down the hall to the stairway, where Severus turned to him.

"This afternoon has been…taxing…on both of us, I am certain," he observed stiffly. "Perhaps you should take a walk to clear your mind."

Harry was brimming with questions about everything he had just experienced; despite reading some of his Mother's writings, there was still so much he did not understand. Severus, however, did not look open to answering any questions. He watched Harry expectantly, waiting for him to descend down the stairs. He did not appear to have any intention of following him.

"Alright," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Maybe I will."

Severus nodded, and as Harry turned to move down the stairs, he had the feeling that Severus was relieved to be left alone. When he looked back over his shoulder, his Father was already gone.

Intent on answering his own questions, Harry set off for the study. He wouldn't rest until he understood exactly what magic he had performed in that room. It was wholly new, to him, and he wanted to devour all of the information available on the subject.

xxx

Severus' movements were rigid and meticulous as he poured the contents of one flask into another. He wrapped deft fingers around the narrow top and swirled the contents in smooth motion, watching intently as the colors coalesced.

There was a calming aspect to potion-making for Severus. The methodical movements, the mental power, the intense concentration it took to complete each menial step of the process, all served well to fully absorb an overactive mind.

And Severus' mind certainly qualified as overactive.

At the thought of the unnamed emotion he repressed so efficiently, his shoulders tensed. He finished his set of clockwise strokes in the small cauldron before him, and stood back to observe the liquid congealing.

As he expected, his solution thickened to the intended consistency. Staring down at his perfect work, he slowly peeled his thick black work gloves from his starkly contrasted hands. He set them aside in their designated area, and manually cleared his work area. He was reluctant to rely on magic in an extremely delicate environment in his extremely delicate mood.

Though the hour he had spent in the solace of his laboratory had certainly muted his volatile mood, he still suffered from the stress of the afternoon. He had spent a lifetime repressing his memories of Lily; to deliberately relive them was wholly unnatural to him.

He remembered now why he had deliberately destroyed her room not long after she had left him. It was as though her memory lingered there; she had poured so much of herself into her magic that it seemed the room was infused with her. In the presence of that power, he was raw, unable to keep the memories at bay.

Yet, Severus reminded himself as he closed and locked the door, he understood the magnitude of the undertaking ahead of him. He had realized it for quite some time, ever since he had learned that Harry's training would become his responsibility.

He knew he would now have to learn to live with her memory, rather than ignoring it. At the very least, Harry would have questions Severus must answer. As unpleasant as it was to think about his loss, it didn't give him license to saddle Harry with the burden of forgetting her as well.

Unconsciously, Severus slowed as he reached the ground level of the house. He descended the last few stairs gracefully, and halted at the bottom. A practiced master of Occlumency, he took a moment to clear his mind. He forced a long, slow breath from between his lips, and his hands moved unconsciously up to the back of his stiff neck. He twisted his head to the side, pushing against his chin and closing his eyes. Consecutive popping noises signaled the temporary relief from the tension there. He sighed and opened his eyes again, allowing his arms to fall back to his side.

Severus' features formed an expression of neutrality as he resumed his walk towards the study. He assumed he would find his son there, if the boy was in the house at all. When he arrived there, he was met with a fully lit room and a desk strewn with papers and books. He was not, however, met by the sight of his son.

"Harry?" Severus inquired of the room, and finding no response, moved over to the expanse of windows along the back wall. He parted the drapes there, allowing a little natural light into the room, and gazed out over the grounds. He could not see Harry anywhere, but he was certain that was where the boy had gone.

Severus closed the curtains; he did not like the study to be too brightly lit. He tidied the desk that his son had left in disarray and selected one of the more neutral texts on White Magic for his own perusal. He intended to brush up on some of the more complex principles before he attempted to teach them to Harry.

With his book in hand, Severus banished the lights in the study and abandoned the room in favor of the front parlor. He hoped that there, he would hear Harry's return. Though he himself had suggested the walk, it made him uneasy to have the boy too long removed from his sight. It seemed that Harry's absences often accompanied catastrophe.

Severus reached the front of the house quickly, and after checking the kitchen for further signs of his son, moved across the hallway to his final destination. When he entered the room, the first thing he noticed, to his chagrin, was the disordered state Harry had left this room in, as well. He had left his knights chess board out on the low table, a game against himself half played, and a plate of partially eaten food sat next to it.

The second thing Severus noticed, as his eyes scanned the room quickly, was Tibby standing several steps away from the mess, hands tucked behind her back and big glassy eyes staring up at him guiltily.

"It's quite alright," he assured the house elf in dry tones, glancing from her to the mess. "Leave it for Harry to clean up; he ought to anyway."

"Yes, Master Snape," Tibby obliged quickly, giving him a timid curtsey and hurrying past him. As she did, he noticed her stuffing a crème colored envelope into her small dress.

"Ah, Tibby," Severus called, and she halted in her tracks, turning around and staring at him with the same wide, watery eyes. "Is that the post you have there?"

"Yes, Master Snape," she said obediently. "I has left Master's post on Master's desk, sir."

She turned again to leave quickly, but Severus called, "Come back here," his tone showing his surprise at her unwillingness to share any more information. "What is that you have, there?"

Timidly, as though expecting an outburst, she answered, "Master Harry's post, sir."

An eyebrow lifted in suspicion, and Severus extended his hand to the elf, motioning for her to hand it over. To his further dismay, she pulled the letter from her dress and clutched it to her small chest, taking a step backwards. When she spoke, it was as though she was forcing herself to say the words against her own will. "Tibby is only to give this letter to Master Harry, sir," she said insistently, yet fearfully. "Tibby was given instructions not to give the letter to you, sir!"

"According to whom?" asked Severus, eyes narrowed.

"Tibby cannot say, sir!" she whined, near tears now.

"I command you to tell me from whom you have received correspondence for my son!" Severus said harshly; Tibby cowered beneath him, clutching the letter in her desperately wringing hands.

"But, Master—"

"I suppose you would rather I present you with clothes?" Severus inquired in a cold, deadly tone. Alarmed, Tibby stared back up at him.

"Tibby does not wish to be sent from the Snape house, sir—"

"Then I suggest you obey me, and hand that letter here, Tibby," replied Severus coolly.

With a fretful whimper, Tibby hung her head and held the letter up to him, defeated.

"Now," said Severus impatiently, snatching the letter from her grasp. "Who sent this to him? How did it get here?"

"Dobby, the house elf, sir," responded Tibby, looking pained as she admitted it. It was as though the threat of clothes had placed her under a temporary spell.

"Ah, so it is from Hogwarts, then," said Severus quietly, turning the unmarked letter over in his hands. He glared at it, and then back at Tibby, who looked as though she would start sobbing at her forced betrayal. "And who gave the letter to Dobby, I wonder?"

"Miss Hermione," said Tibby in a near whisper, as though she were confessing to a crime.

Severus looked up sharply at the house elf, who flinched at the movement. He was certainly taken aback by her response; he had expected the letter had a more sinister nature, from the way that she was acting. It suddenly seemed foolish that he would suspect such a thing. Tibby was clearly acting out of loyalty to the kind-hearted Granger girl.

"Very well," he said to the fretful elf, feeling the slightest twinge of regret at having spoken to her so harshly. He did not press her for any more information. "You are excused."

Tibby quietly escaped the room, and Severus sank to the couch, staring down at the envelope in his hands. It was already popping open at the seams, having been wrung within an inch of its life in Tibby's desperate hands. If his thumb just slipped, he might accidentally open it.

It seemed Miss Granger thought herself quite clever, Severus mused as he contemplated the ethics of opening a letter that was intended for his son. She had overestimated the ability of a bound house elf to refuse a command. It was very like her, he thought with a roll of his eyes. When he considered the lengths she had gone to in order to keep the missive out of his hands, it reinforced his desire to read the message it contained.

He had never claimed to be noble, he thought as he wedged his finger between the flap of the envelope and the letter inside. He had known for several days that his son was conspiring to do something with that girl, and if he could prevent him from doing something exceedingly stupid ahead of time, who was he to pass up such an opportunity?

Before he could persuade himself to do otherwise, the envelope was open and the letter had been torn from its clutches. Severus dropped the envelope to the floor absently as his eyes began to scan the paper.

It was blank.

His eyes narrowed. He knew very well that this was not truly a blank piece of parchment. Miss Granger was simply a bit more clever than he gave her credit for.

Unfortunately, thought Snape, it also seemed that Miss Granger had underestimated him. After all, Severus was no novice to the art of decoding student enchantments, especially when it came to anything involving homework, or the occasional passed note.

"Finite Incantatum." Severus waved his wand across the parchment, but nothing appeared there.

Ah, so she was going to be difficult.

Within what seemed like mere minutes, Severus was at his desk in the study. He unlocked the bottom drawer and rummaged around, surfacing with several tools at his disposal. He spread the letter flat across the surface of his desk, and first checked for invisible ink.

"Aparecium."

Nothing appeared. Yet, Severus had almost expected this. Miss Granger would expect him to know such an incantation. She might not, however, expect him to possess a Revealer. He snatched the small red block off his desk and rubbed it furiously across the letter.

A faint line of scrawl appeared across the top of the parchment.

If you are not a thief, manage this mischief.

Severus' brows converged, forming a deep crease down the center of his forehead. As the obvious nature of the clue dawned on him, he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, Miss Granger, ever so sly," he muttered dryly, before saying in way of command, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

It was very fortunate, thought Severus as Hermione's tidy scrawl appeared across the parchment, that he had taken hold of Harry's map several weeks ago. Otherwise, he might not have guessed the clue so quickly.

Harry, the letter began.

I planned to speak to you yesterday before you left for the weekend, but it seems Professor Snape is determined to keep us apart. Ron told me how he surprised you outside our common room; I suppose we should have suspected as much, after the way he acted in Potions on Thursday.

I cannot say much in this letter, though I have safe-guarded it in the best ways I know how. If at all possible, try to convince Professor Snape to return a day early. It still seems the ferret is up to something; last night, he left again, but this time escorted by K. It was strange. If you insist on keeping it a secret, you should at least give your Father a chance to catch him.

For your part, be on your guard and try not to think about us. We don't need you getting into any more trouble, and we don't need the Professor getting more suspicious. Please, Harry, don't do anything rash.

We'll see you soon,

H&R

By the time he had finished reading, what had begun as a crease between his eyebrows had gained the depth of a gorge. His dark eyes scanned the letter one more time, reaffirming that he had read correctly.

He had known, simply known, that Harry was keeping something from him. Yet the vague irritation he'd felt at the hint of secrecy was nowhere comparable to the molten anger he was experiencing now.

Even as the more rational part of his brain argued against it, Severus was compelled to immediate action. He could envision nothing sweeter than the satisfaction of descending on his son in the garden like a panther upon its prey. Unconsciously, he clenched and unclenched his fist as he imagined the feel of snatching Harry up by the scruff of his neck and dragging him back to the house, where he would be commanded to remain for all of eternity.

Drastic.

The one word in the back of his mind spoke through the haze of his rage in a voice unlike his own. It could have belonged to any number of people: Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry himself…even Lily, had she been there.

Subdued by the thought, Severus' glare darkened even further as he realized that he could not react as he wished. He had agreed, however foolishly, to behave more graciously towards his errant son. For now, he would stifle the compulsion to act.

He scowled as he threw everything on his desk haphazardly back into his drawer, with no consideration to his normally thorough organization. When he had finished, he leaned back into his chair for a moment and gazed absently around the study. His mind was stretching in all different directions, but his thoughts continued to circle back to one resolution: despite his personal vow of restraint, he needed to speak with his son.

xxx

The faint line between physical and mental exhaustion was one Harry had been treading for weeks now; as he found himself standing at the beginning of the path back to the house, he realized that he now had a foot planted on each side. The long walk over the newly thawed grounds of Severus' property had been an exhausting end to an already strenuous day. His morning spent with Severus had been simultaneously invigorating and draining.

He had left his first session of White Magic feeling empowered. The energy of that room seemed to flow through him freely now; he could feel strength at his fingertips as he gripped his wand, and knew that it was not imagined. He was alive with the magic he had always possessed, and his mind was awakened to a whole new world he couldn't wait to discover.

This feeling of vitality opened new horizons to Harry, yet it also presented a new obstacle. He could barely decide which topic of inquiry to first pursue, much less could he concentrate on it once he arrived at an answer. Each question answered only gave him cause to think of several more.

Severus' suggestion had become a necessity more quickly than Harry would have liked. He recognized the advice had not only been directed at him; Severus' needs apparently paralleled his own. While his Father had gone to work in the attic, Harry had turned to the outdoors.

The arrival of spring seemed to bring with it an incredible sense of clarity. Thought was not required to appreciate the rapidly greening garden, the sweet smell of the damp grounds around him, nor the warmth of golden rays slicing through the moist chill of the air. Though it was overgrown and only partially awakened from the slumber of the winter months, there was a tangible sense of peace about the sprawling grounds around him.

In the presence of the garden's soothing nature, Harry's mind could wander freely without landing on another distraction. He was surprised as he circled back to the front of the house, now, that his thoughts were rather on his Father than the questions he had about White Magic.

There was something changed in Severus' demeanor which Harry could not quite place. He was the same Professor Snape as always, yet he appeared as a domesticated version of himself. He maintained the bearing of the stern Potions Master, but his manner of approach had softened.

Harry couldn't quite understand it, but he was grateful for the change all the same. Though he was tired, he felt at ease in a way that had lately become unfamiliar.

Harry reached the top of the path and entered the house without pretense. In the entryway, he paused briefly to store his cloak before entering the hallway. As he passed the doorway to the front parlor, it was only the peripheral glimpse of a dark object in the lit room that halted him in his tracks. Uncertain if he had seen correctly, he took several steps backward and leaned through the door frame.

The winged armchair that normally decorated the nook next to the fireplace now sat in front of it, angled toward the door. Severus was seated there with a book and several sheets of parchment in his lap, though he did not seem to be paying attention to them so much as the spectacle of the glow emanating from the hearth.

Indeed, he looked every bit the menacing Professor to which Harry had grown accustomed. His hands rested on the ends of the chairs and he stared straight forward; he had not moved since Harry had entered the room.

"Hello," offered Harry tentatively, thinking it odd that his Father had not yet acknowledged him. The man's gaze shifted to him slowly, giving away no sign of surprise at Harry's presence. He did not immediately respond.

The sudden shift of tone between the two of them jarred Harry in a way he did not care to analyze. The unsettled feeling pressed at his consciousness as he observed his Father's mannerisms. They were slow and deliberate, and certainly mirrored his thoughts. He was aware that in the time that had elapsed between their encounters, Severus' mood had taken a sudden and alarmingly direct turn.

Even as Harry stood before Severus in total bewilderment, the man sat with an expression that could have been chiseled out of stone. The effect of the shadows flickering across his face in the firelight made his already pronounced features appear even harsher; Harry fought the desire to shrink back from the intensity of his stare.

"Harry," he said, inclining his head. "Why don't you have a seat? I believe there is a conversation that is long overdue."

"Alright," said Harry helplessly, sinking to the couch adjacent to the chair. At last, Severus moved, but only to face his chair toward him. Unconsciously, Harry winced as Severus' glare came to rest on him once again.

Where was the man from this morning? He recalled the stiffness with which Severus had walked away from their last encounter, and hoped that he could attribute his Father's behavior to some residual emotion from that moment. Yet, the sinking feeling in his gut would not allow him to believe something as easy as that.

"Firstly, Harry," began Severus smoothly, "I would like to know if there is any subject you feel is worth discussing."

At once, Harry pressed his lips together as if to physically restrain himself from responding hastily; uncertain of where Severus was leading, he was unwilling to give himself away. Severus sat before him with the imposing presence of a judge; Harry could see him evaluating every one of his actions as though each fidget or sideways glance was indicative of his guilt.

"I did actually plan to speak to you, today," Harry said slowly, searching Severus' expression for a hint of the thoughts lurking there. It wasn't a lie; he had contemplated the strange state of affairs between him and his Father for a majority of his time spent outside.

"By all means, then," said Severus in a low voice, waving his hand as though opening the floor to Harry. "Speak."

"I'm not sure how to begin…"

Annoyance laced his tone as Severus responded, "I am certain you can come up with something."

"Right," said Harry. He cleared his throat, and glanced around to spare himself some time. It occurred to him that the room had the atmosphere of an interrogation chamber. Severus sat staring at him intently, with only the glow of the fireplace illuminating his shadowy form in the dimly lit room. "Perhaps we should change rooms," Harry suggested.

"This will do," Severus said curtly.

Harry frowned. At the conclusion of his walk, he had come to terms with the fact that a serious conversation between the two of them was inevitable. However, he had felt far more confident in his ability to interact with the man as an adult, then. His Father's behavior now could only be described as ominous. It may not have been a far stretch from his usual behavior, but it certainly made honesty and open communication between them more difficult.

"I feel as though you are angry with me, though I can't figure why," said Harry carefully after a moment. The words left his mouth and he was instantly surprised with his own bravery at directly confronting the issue. Severus wore a similar expression. "It's hard for me to talk to you, this way."

It was more direct than Harry normally dared to be with Severus, and yet it seemed to have the desired effect. As he considered Harry's observation, Severus' hard expression relented into one of admission. He inclined his head to the side, and his posture relaxed slightly.

"I would like for you to continue, Harry," he instructed smoothly. His tone was reserved. "If you feel you cannot, then I will begin this discussion as I see fit."

If there was a threat underlying the statement, it was obscure. Harry considered his expressionless countenance for a moment; this was Severus, relenting. It might have been a small change, but it helped. Harry took a breath of fortitude and firmly reminded himself that he had to address his Father as a man, not a student.

He knew that there was nothing left for it. Whatever it was that had triggered his Father's strangely suspicious behavior, he realized that the symptoms of Severus' mistrust could never be alleviated unless he told him the entire truth.

"This morning made me realize a lot of things," Harry began slowly, supposing he ought to start at the beginning. "I thought you should know that I understand the importance of what we're doing, and I'm fully prepared to dedicate myself to this the same way you have."

Though the expression on Severus' face indicated that he was searching for meaning behind Harry's plainly stated words, he nevertheless seemed pleased. "That is…rewarding…to hear."

"And I've been thinking a lot about what you said before…about mutual respect, and all that…"

"Yes." Severus spoke as though to both prompt Harry forward and to reinforce the truth of what he was saying.

"There's something I haven't told you."

If silence could take on a physical presence, Harry felt it might slowly suffocate him. Severus' expression remained impassive, but from where he sat, he had somehow taken on the posture of a dog with its hackles raised. Harry did not respond, let alone allow himself to breath, for a long moment.

"I suggest you explain yourself, Harry, and quickly," said Severus at last. Harry released the air he'd been holding in his lungs; he was far from relieved, but it was at least a more gracious response than he'd expected.

Once the words began to pour from Harry, there was nothing to dam them. He hurried through his explanation of what Ron and Hermione had recounted to him; as he went, he felt the guilt that had been hanging over him slowly alleviating, even though his dread of Severus' eventual reaction, once he finished speaking, increased.

When he had finished, Severus continued to contemplate him. Harry waited for his fate to unfold, but Severus merely folded his hands in his lap and continued to watch him.

"I'm sorry," Harry offered feebly, after Severus did not speak for a length of time. "I know I should have told you sooner—"

"You certainly should have."

"—I thought you had tired of me telling you about Malfoy, and I didn't want to make you angry again…even though I have, now…"

"I…appreciate," Severus ground the word out with difficulty, "that you have come to me on your own, albeit rather late. I am perturbed at a number of things, Harry, but I would have been far angrier had you continued to keep this from me."

Harry nodded in understanding and looked down. "I thought you would be frustrated if I brought Malfoy up again."

"In this instance, Harry, this may merit some investigation. On my part, however, not yours, or your little friends. They never should have followed him."

"I didn't tell them to," Harry defended.

"I realize that," Severus acknowledged. "Perhaps my initial request that you leave them in the dark was ill-advised."

Before he realized what he was doing, Harry blanched visibly. Severus' eyebrow quirked in response.

"Am I to understand that you have not kept them in the dark, then?"

Squeezing his eyes shut so that he could not see his Father's reaction, Harry shook his head and braced for the storm.

"Harry…" his name escaped his Father in a low hiss; he said it as though it were a curse word, rather than his given name.

One eye popped open, then the other. Harry blinked a few times to be certain that what he saw in front of him was real. Severus was not looming over him, fuming; he was hunched over with his head resting in his hands.

If someone were to ask what had happened to him, he might have answered that he had finally been defeated by his son's stupidity.

Quietly, Harry offered, "It was the only way to stop them."

"Other than by consulting me, you mean," Severus reminded him; his sarcasm was only dampened by the muffling effect of the hands cradling his forehead.

"Other than that, yes."

"Well, I'll have to speak to Dumbledore at once," said Severus decidedly, correcting his posture so quickly he might have never moved. He sighed tiredly, and glanced around at a spot far above Harry's head. He had the expression of one begging a deity for help.

"They won't speak of it," Harry said confidently, and Severus eyed him with doubt. "I'm serious. I told them not to—not even to Dumbledore—and they won't. They've kept my secrets for six years now, they wouldn't betray me."

"For their own good, and for yours, I should hope not," Severus warned him. He did look, however, somewhat placated.

"And I wouldn't have gone after him, so you know," Harry added; it was a last ditch effort to appease the older man.

"It is infinitely important that you hold on to that wisdom, Harry."

"Really, I wouldn't have," Harry promised him, ignoring his cynicism.

Severus sighed, relenting, and leaned back in his chair. "What am I to do with you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged helplessly, and thought he could almost see the corners of his Father's mouth lift up. Whatever mirth had momentarily graced his face, however, was quickly replaced with a look of solemnity as he began to speak again.

"It is now as imperative as ever that you limit your contact with Malfoy. You mustn't alert him to the fact that you've any idea of what he's been doing. I am serious, Harry. He will never betray himself if he knows what he ought to hide. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And you understand that you may come to me with anything rather than pursue it on your own."

"Yes."

Severus took pause, his lips drawn tight as he stared at Harry, apparently contemplating the necessity of any further admonition. Under his Father's scrutiny, Harry tried to reflect the look of being chastised; he thought that just perhaps, if he could be excused now, he might actually escape this encounter unscathed. He could not quell the beginnings of hope which were breaking through a suppressive layer of guilt.

"We will return to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon," said Severus definitively, and then folded his hands as though he had finished speaking.

Though it felt rather foolish, Harry experienced the momentary thrill of victory as the words left Severus' lips. He had avoided what he had believed to be an impending lecture. The look in Severus' eyes, however, told him that the threat had not yet passed. Before his Father could speak, Harry yawned, stretching his arms out to the side. Severus' eyes narrowed a bit further at the dramatic display, and Harry decided not to test his luck.

"Alright," he said in an appropriately dampened tone. He felt a moment of self-reproach for his inappropriate sense of giddiness, and reminded himself of the serious nature of the situation. "I really was going to tell you. I am sorry… about everything, you know…"

"I do know," said Severus tiredly. "I am just beginning to wonder—"

He broke off in the middle of his sentence, and broke eye contact. Harry waited for him to continue, but he sat still and silently for several minutes.

"What?"

Severus looked to be searching for the right words, but coming up at an uncharacteristic loss. "Perhaps," he said in the tone of one admitting defeat, "it is best we end this conversation for now."

"Okay," Harry agreed reluctantly, standing. He thought perhaps he understood what Severus had not said, but could not be sure. He felt unsettled by his Father's manner. How the man could communicate feelings of disappointment silently was beyond him, but it read more clearly in his expression than if the words had left his mouth.

"Goodnight, Harry," said Severus in recognition that their conversation had ended.

"Goodnight, Dad," responded Harry, more quietly than he intended, as he slipped out the door.

As Harry tread quickly down the corridor and up to his room, he silently cursed his entire weekend's worth of inaction. By delaying the inevitable, he had nearly damned himself. It was by some great fortune that his Father had granted him reprieve, for now.

Harry just couldn't help but to question whether the consequences of tomorrow would surpass the consequences of today.

xxx End Chapter xxx