A Year Like None Other

aspeninthesunlight

Story Summary:
A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. A letter that sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person's true colours do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts. And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home ... and a family. (A Snape adopts Harry fic.)
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Chapter 74 - Return to Gryffindor

Posted:
06/18/2006
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5,217
Author's Note:
Betaed by the Fabulous Mercredi.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or this fictional universe. JK Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not making anything from this except a hobby.

Summary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!

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A Year Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Seventy-Four: Return to Gryffindor

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"No trouble hearing it this time," Harry weakly joked as the magic doorbell went off in his head. Quickly banishing the notes and articles Snape had provided on deafening potions, he rose unsteadily to his feet. Oh God, would he be able to keep all the lies straight? And what about Draco later? He was a terrible liar!

Harry's head started to ache, right then and there.

"Everything will be fine," Snape said, his whole manner exuding calm as he strode to open the door to admit Tonks and Shacklebolt. "Good afternoon."

"Severus." Shacklebolt nodded pleasantly.

Tonks popped her gum, waving a hand in greeting as she walked past Snape.

Harry eyed the empty hallway as his father shut the door. "Where are the other Aurors?"

"It seems they've taken ill," Shacklebolt said, his deep voice adding layers of implication to the words. "Both of them."

Harry couldn't tell quite what he meant by that. He wondered if Snape had somehow slipped the other Aurors something to make them sick, or if Shacklebolt meant that he'd arranged matters that way himself. Or maybe Dumbledore had done something... whatever the truth was, Harry hardly believed this sudden illness was a coincidence.

"You're stuck with just us," Tonks said, helping herself to a seat without waiting for one to be offered. She patted the cushion beside her until Harry took the hint and sat there.

"Please." Snape indicated with a hand that Kingsley should make himself comfortable as well. "May I offer you any refreshment?"

"No thanks," Tonks answered for them both. "Albus stuffed us with tea and sweets while he filled us in."

Leaning back in his chair, Kingsley studied Harry for a moment. "You seemed a little upset before, Potter. Not to mention, adamant about Draco Malfoy's innocence. I understand the two of you have become close friends?"

"Yeah, we have." Harry thought about saying they were brothers, but decided it would only bring up questions like And you'd say anything to save your brother, wouldn't you?

"An interesting development," Kingsley commented, slanting a glance at Snape. "Though we do of course know that it was Malfoy who rescued your wand from Death Eater control."

"He's been great. Seriously."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Well, not on that, anyway. "I'm not quite sure how to put this, Potter. I thought my colleagues would be here and we'd be forced to question you to make it all seem above board, but in the circumstances..." He shrugged.

"You're not going to interrogate me?"

Tonks burst out laughing. "You make it sound like we brought thumbscrews and a rack, Harry! We were never going to interrogate you, for Merlin's sake! What do you think we are, the Pestago?"

"Gestapo, I think you mean. But I don't understand. You don't have any questions?"

Kingsley crossed his long legs. "Ordinarily, we would. You've been living with the prime suspect and would presumably be aware of his movements on the day of the murder. But these aren't ordinary times. Albus has assured us in strictest confidence that you three have been working on some important matters that might come to light if a full investigation were conducted. Matters he'd prefer even the Order to remain unaware of at the present. If our colleagues were here I'd have to do some fancy footwork to make sure these secrets don't see the light of day. As it is..." Another shrug, that one accompanied by a slight smile.

"So that's it?"

"Not quite," Kingsley admitted. "Order or no, we can't allow Draco Malfoy to remain at large if he's the killer, so we've reached a compromise with Albus. As long as we're personally satisfied as to Malfoy's innocence we'll leave the three of you out of any subsequent investigation, even if that means playing fast and loose with the truth when it comes to the written reports."

That didn't sound too bad to Harry, but he wondered what personally satisfied might entail. Snape was obviously thinking along the same lines.

"You refer to Veritaserum, I presume?" said the Potions Master.

"It seems the only viable course. Albus was concerned that using a Pensieve might inadvertently reveal things best kept under wraps."

Snape looked Kingsley in the eyes. "Will you trust Veritaserum of my own brewing?"

The Auror dodged the question. "As this is an official investigation I have Ministry-official truth serum with me."

The Potions Master leaned back, his features impassive though Harry could somehow tell that he wasn't too pleased. "Indeed."

"It can have unpleasant side effects, I know," Kingsley admitted, shrugging.

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "I thought you couldn't make Draco take truth serum. I mean, without his own consent. He's an emancipated minor, so he gets to decide--"

"Unless he wants us poking and prying through these secrets, he'll consent," said Tonks. "He's got nothing to worry about unless he's guilty, since all we're going to ask is a few pertinent questions about the murder. That's our deal, Harry. We get to hear under truth serum that he didn't do it, and the questioning stops right there, before he spills anything the rest of the Order doesn't need to know yet."

Harry tilted his head to the side. "That doesn't bug you, being told you don't need to know this or that?"

"Well of course it bugs me," Tonks said, laughing. "We'd all like to feel indispensable. But learning that you aren't all that matters is part of growing up, I suppose."

Harry thought that sounded well and good, but in his case, with that prophecy looming over him, he wasn't sure it really applied.

"Once Draco satisfies you as to his innocence, what do you plan to write into your official report?" Snape asked.

"Whatever it is had better coordinate with the evidence our colleagues have already collected. Notably, one diamond button found at the base of the Owlery window from which the young lady was pushed. There are also a number of rumours that Draco Malfoy was seen just before or after the murder, but thus far no eyewitness accounts."

"Of course not," Harry said. "If they come forward we'll know who was involved in the conspiracy."

"The diamond button is easily explained in any case," said Snape.

"Ah yes, the Malfoy house-elf who visited. And the innuendo about the boy's whereabouts won't be worth much against direct contradicting testimony which I presume you and Potter can provide?"

"Draco was with me the whole time," Harry said, catching on that he was being prompted. "We were working on a potions project, actually, and Severus came down to help us. We were all three together when we got word that Pansy had died."

"Remember for the record that you told me that under Veritaserum yourself," Kingsley advised. "That's the way the report will read. In the interests of clearing this matter up without delay, your father authorized its use. Yes?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "I also want it on record that Draco used to habitually wear a turquoise amulet, one which gave him a severe burn on the day of the murder."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Turquoise shouldn't do that."

"It did; you can examine the amulet and burn for yourself. Our presumption is that the protective amulet somehow sensed events in the Owlery and was trying to warn Draco of the threat of Azkaban."

"Still an odd thing for turquoise to do, but I see the implication. "

Harry couldn't help but frown. "Can't you leave the burn out of your report? Severus hasn't let it be healed because it's evidence that somebody was trying to mess with Draco when they pushed Pansy, but I know Draco would really rather not have a scar."

"Your father's right; better to keep the burn," Tonks said. "It'll bolster our conclusion that the young man's been framed."

A niggling little doubt began to bother him. Harry coughed slightly, uncomfortable about what he needed to say. "Um, no offence, Tonks... it's great to see you again and I'm sure you're a right capable Auror and all that, but don't you think you're the wrong person for this investigation? I mean..." He smiled apologetically. "You are first cousins with Draco."

"Yeah, and we're really close, too," Tonks said sarcastically, somehow rolling her eyes and glaring all at once. "I never miss a Malfoy family barbecue. Roast Muggles. Mmmm, my favourite."

"I didn't mean you liked him. I was was just thinking of public perception--"

"Damn straight I don't like the snide little git. As for public perception, Harry, my opinion of all things Malfoy is pretty well known. Their stance on blood purity is an insult to my own father, not to mention me. Draco may have gotten clever enough to not want to go into the family business, but if you try to tell me he's morphed into some bunny-hugging type who dreams of all the wizards in the world holding hands and singing songs of peace and friendship, I'll probably sick up right here on the spot."

"Tonks, that's enough," Kingsley said, the reprimand gentle. It was enough though.

Tonks took a breath, nodding. "Right, boss. But Harry? Considering how much I despise him, I'm the perfect person for this investigation. If I say he's innocent, that implies he really is." She looked towards Severus, and said with an air of putting an end to the discussion, "So, when can we see him?"

The Potions Master rose smoothly to his feet. "Right now, if you're amenable. I'll be back with him in a few moments. No," he said when Harry started to get up. "Stay here and see to our guests."

Our guests. Harry really liked that. He waited until Snape had flooed away to ask, "So, are you sure I can't get you anything?"

Ignoring the question, Kingsley regarded Harry gravely. Uh-oh. Harry started to wish he'd gone off with his father, because now there was no telling what the Aurors might ask him. On the other hand, Snape would never have left if he'd had the slightest doubt about what would happen in his absence. By that measure, everything was all right, but Harry still felt his palms getting a bit sweaty as he sat there.

"Nice crest," the black Auror finally said.

Harry's brow furrowed for a moment, since he wasn't wearing his robes.

"I noticed it before," Kingsley added. "Reminded me of a couple of potions labels I've seen over the years. Specially made brews, things Severus worked up for the Order. He always draws the snake twisting just so..."

Of course. Draco had asked Snape at the time who had done the artwork on Harry's new crest, and Snape had basically ducked the question, but now it all made sense.

"Yeah, my dad's a man of many talents," Harry said with more than a little pride.

"Your... dad."

Harry glanced at Tonks. "Yeah, my dad. What's the matter? You knew he'd adopted me, didn't you? I thought pretty much everybody knew these days."

Tonks chewed her gum loudly as she replied. "Sure, I knew. It just sounded odd the way you said it, Snape a dad and all. I had him for Potions, don't forget."

"There's more to him than Potions." Harry smiled. "Though I will admit I'm just a little bit nervous about having him teach me again after all this. Not that he hasn't been teaching me all along, but class is something different. He said he was leery of it, too."

"You'll be fine," said Kingsley.

"Too bad Draco can't partner me; he's really good at Potions," Harry mused. "I'm all right, but Draco just eats them up. It's funny, you know. I used to go to Potions class dreading the prospect of getting paired with him but now I know I'd get better marks if he could be allowed to go back to class... What?" he asked, because Shacklebolt looked like he had something to say.

"Your faith in him is absolute?"

"He didn't kill Pansy. You'll know that yourself soon enough."

"I wasn't referring to the murder," said the Auror, his deep voice gone more intense than Harry had ever heard it.

"Oh, you meant in general? Then yes," Harry answered, giving Tonks a significant look. "My faith in him is absolute. I'd trust him with my life. Actually, I have... the Order was briefed about Horace Darswaithe, right? So you know that Draco saved me that day. I could go on, scads of other things he's done that prove his loyalty, times he's put my safety above his own needs, but I think you get the point."

Instead of answering, Tonks made a show of fishing another stick of gum from a pocket sewn into the seam of her Auror's robes. Kingsley was still wearing his as well, Harry realised. "Um, I can hang your robes if you'd be more comfortable without--"

"We keep them on for the intimidation factor," Tonks explained, popping the gum in her mouth. "Not that it's so necessary when Veritaserum comes into play, but it's Ministry policy. Might as well make this investigation look as above-board as we can."

"The Aurors who came to question Draco after he turned in my wand... they weren't very above-board. I think they practically tortured him or something, but Severus and Draco won't really go into details. Whatever they did, it was bad. Is that Ministry policy?"

"What were they supposed to do?" Tonks asked in a hard voice. "Your wand was checked nine ways to Sunday, but it had been in Death Eater hands. Anything could have been done to it. New spells, things the Ministry can't yet detect. And then it's 'returned' by a boy who could well have just been doing his father's bidding. And his father just happens to be a charter member of You-Know-Who's inner circle? They had to make sure it wasn't some sort of ruse. It's a rough world out there and if we aren't ready to fight fire with fire then we ought to just all go hide in our cellars, see?"

"It just seems a little... well, sadistic," Harry said. "I mean, they knew already from the Veritaserum that he was sincere."

"You think Lucius Malfoy gave his consent for Draco to take truth serum?" asked Kingsley. "He was still the boy's legal father at that point."

"But..." Harry frowned. "Draco did take truth serum."

"Not officially," said Tonks. "It would have been illegal. The Ministry doesn't issue Veritaserum except under very strict procedures. We have to account for every drop."

Harry's heart sank a little bit as the truth came to him. "So the Ministry, the Auror corps, they all sort of think Draco might be a double agent or something? Still?"

Tonks popped her gum again. "Well, face it, his last name is Malfoy. Now, maybe he's turned over a new leaf and all, but it's a bit much to swallow when you don't know that Albus and Severus verified his change of heart using truth serum. Hell, it's a bit much to swallow even when you do know that. The last name thing again. Like it or not, Draco Malfoy has a lousy reputation."

"But Tonks, he wants to be an Auror when he finishes here," Harry whispered, looking from her to Kingsley.

"Pigs'll fly first," was her immediate assessment.

"It doesn't look good," Kingsley said in a more moderate tone. "Applicants are judged as much on moral worth as magical skill. There's just too much potential for corruption, otherwise. Take that diamond button, for example. If Malfoy found something like that he might just pocket it instead of turning it in as evidence. And then there's the whole issue of exposure to the Dark Arts. Not to mention his racism. We don't want Aurors who are going to trust purebloods over Muggleborns, do we? Or not investigate properly when the victim of a crime is someone they think deserves to be victimised?"

"But it's all right to mistrust and victimise him because of his bloodlines? To keep him out of the Auror program?"

"We've read his student files, Harry," said Tonks, shaking his head. "This isn't simple prejudice on our part. His record speaks for itself."

"But--"

Anything else Harry might have said was cut short by the sound of Draco and Snape flooing in. The Aurors stood up, and after a second's hesitation, Harry did as well.

The Slytherin boy stepped forward out of the hearth just as though he owned the whole world and everyone in it, but his hands were out of sight, thrust deep into his pockets of his cloak. Harry thought they were probably trembling and Draco didn't want anyone to see.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Draco Malfoy," Snape made the necessary introductions. "And of course your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks."

Draco drew a hand out, then, holding it rock steady, though Harry could see from the strain lines around his eyes how much effort that took. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance," he said to Kingsley, looking him in the eyes. He shook his hand, then turned to Tonks. For a long moment they simply looked at each other, Draco's expression reserved even though Tonks' was close to hostile. Harry thought Draco was probably figuring out the best tack to take.

"Thank you for coming," he finally said, shaking her hand as well. Tonks looked a bit surprised.

"You had a pleasant journey to Hogwarts?" Draco went on, addressing them both. "Scotland is lovely this time of year."

Harry almost winced, because in the circumstances, Draco's perfect manners were only going to remind the Aurors of Lucius. The elder Malfoy had the same urbane way of making small talk. When the Aurors didn't respond to his pleasantries, Draco moved on to the reason they were all there. "I believe you have a parchment for me to sign."

"Yes." Drawing his wand forth, Kingsley conjured a form from thin air. "Standard consent for administration of Veritaserum to an underage wizard, though in your case we'll have to amend the document slightly."

Draco shrugged off his cloak and hung it by the door, then took the form Kingsley was still extending. "Shall we all sit at the table, do you think?" he invited, gesturing towards it. He waited until the Aurors were seated before pulling out his own chair. After that, Draco read the parchment through from start to finish without comment.

Snape took off his own robes, then sat down in the chair next to Draco. Harry wasn't sure what he should do until Draco finished reading and spotted him hovering. "Join us, Harry," the Slytherin boy urged, so Harry went and sat on his other side.

"I'll write in a notation that I'm signing as my own parent, so to speak," Draco said, reaching for the never-out quill Harry had left on the table. He didn't actually sign anything, though. Instead, his silver eyes steady on the senior Auror, he said, "Severus assures me that your questions will be quite limited in scope."

"We merely wish to feel confident that we should look elsewhere for the murderer."

Draco looked from Kingsley to Snape, and shook his head. "That won't do. You're going to use a transcribing spell, correct? To record my testimony? And this will become part of official Ministry records?"

"The transcription will be part of our official written report." Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "Is that a problem, Mr Malfoy?"

"It should be. You're not just Aurors; you're members of the Order of the Phoenix," Draco returned, his voice level. "And no, before you start to wonder, Severus did not tell me that. Or Harry. I knew it already. I know a great many things, Mr Shacklebolt. You wouldn't believe what Death Eaters will say when they think there's nobody listening. I told Harry it was all gossip, but now that I'm about to go under truth serum I suppose I'd better amend that. I had some... creative ways to eavesdrop on Lucius and his frequent guests. Now, the Order is already fully informed of everything I know, as the headmaster and Severus were really quite thorough when they interviewed me about my loyalties. But in my view the Ministry should know these same things through official channels; it would quite likely make the Order's work a good deal easier. Would you concur?"

Tonks' mouth dropped open, her gum falling to the table with a wet squishy plop. She hurriedly covered it with a hand and stowed it somewhere inside a pocket.

Kingsley was more reserved. He folded his hands together on the table. "Is this your idea, Severus?"

"No. When I told Draco that you would ask him only about the murder, he thought it was a wasted opportunity to make legal use of Veritaserum serve our ends. I must admit that I agree."

Tonks had recovered enough by then to say, "I'd think you'd be more concerned about saving your own skin than about what the Order needs."

Draco favoured them both with a dry smile. "Hard to believe in my altruism, is it? Perhaps you'll feel better if I clarify that my skin's not really in much danger. The Veritaserum will clear me. And as for the Order, I plan to be in it someday, so it's to my own advantage to do what I can to position it more strategically."

"Just as it's to your own advantage to have a couple of Aurors believing you'd put the war above family loyalty," Kingsley accused.

"Harry, have you been telling the good Aurors my career plans?" Draco asked in a mocking voice before swivelling back to face the Aurors. "No doubt you both told him how daft the idea was? Well, it's nothing I haven't heard before. Harry laughed in my face when I first told him. When it comes to family loyalty though, you appear to be grossly misinformed. It does come first, but in case you've forgotten, I've nothing to do with the Malfoys any longer. My family, my only family, is sitting right here."

Tonks shoved a new stick of gum in her mouth. "You mean Severus?"

"He means Severus and me both," Harry corrected. "I was going to tell you myself that Draco's my brother, but I thought it might cast his alibi in doubt. Now that you're going to clear him using truth serum I guess it's all right for you to know."

Kingsley stiffened slightly even as he shook his head at Tonks, who looked like she had a few choice things to say. She pursed her lips, letting him handle it. "In what possible sense is he your brother?"

Harry thought better than to say I love him as one, and that's all that matters. "Severus is his father too. Unofficially, but that doesn't make it any less real. And the family loyalty goes both ways. I want your report to prominently mention that in your opinion, Draco Malfoy has overcome the questionable influences he was exposed to during childhood and that his last name should not be counted against him when it comes time for him to apply for an Auror's apprenticeship."

"I doubt I can word it as strongly as that."

"For the information he's about to make official, you ought to," Harry said in a dark voice.

"Harry, don't burn your own bridges with the Aurors here," Draco said, taking up the quill to sign the consent form. "You're acting Slytherin and I get the impression they don't much like Slytherins."

"I am Slytherin," Harry told Kingsley. "That crest you admired wasn't just symbolic, you know. I'm in both houses. And I expect some consideration for my brother here. He doesn't have to put himself under truth serum--"

"Kingsley is a man of conscience," Snape interrupted with a warning glace at Harry. "I'm certain that we can rely on him to further the interests of the Light, whatever it involves. At any rate, you can't dictate how his report reads."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, chastened.

Draco pushed the completed form across the table to Kingsley. "Will that do?"

The Auror studied the parchment before answering. "Yes. Thank you. Shall we set any more parameters for the questioning?"

The Slytherin boy shrugged. "I'm sure Severus can keep you from straying into things I'm not supposed to talk about. Let's get this over with."

Nodding, Kingsley withdrew what appeared to be a small bottle of water from his pocket. It was labelled, but not with a proper potion name. The inscribed vellum encircling the bottle bore ominous phrases like Registered to MLE; Authorized Use Only. The Auror set the bottle down on Draco's consent form and pronounced a spell Harry didn't recognise. He assumed it was some way to inform the Ministry that three drops of the potion were about to be put to authorized use.

Draco had shoved his hands out of sight again, this time deep into trouser pockets. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile. Draco stuck out his tongue, but not to be rude. Tonks was behind him by then, an eyedropper in her hand. She quickly dripped three precise drops onto his tongue and stepped away.

Meanwhile, Kingsley cast the transcription spell, though the look he gave Snape told Harry that the self-writing quill standing at attention wasn't going to have the final word about anything. Kingsley had ways, Harry decided, to change the transcript after the fact... just in case Draco let slip something best kept out of the official record.

Beginning in a formal tone, Kingsley asked, "What is your full legal name?"

Draco's eyes had rolled back slightly in his head, but the question caused him to snap to attention. "I don't know."

"What name were you given at your birth?" Snape quickly questioned.

"Draco Alain Gervais Walpurgis Malfoy," the boy said.

"His school records read Draco Alain Gervais Luthien Malfoy," Kingsley said, his brow furrowed. "Perhaps the serum is flawed."

"He didn't know how to answer you at first," Snape explained. "His name was changed at a young age but I'm certain Draco indeed does not know if the change was duly recorded with the Ministry. At any rate, the potion seems... adequate."

"Ah, very well." Kingsley took a moment to regroup, then asked without preamble, "Did you kill Pansy Parkinson?"

"I don't know."

Kingsley set his teeth, and tried again. "On the day of the murder, were you present in the Owlery with Pansy Parkinson?"

Draco's features by then were serene. "I don't know."

The Auror glared at Snape. "Adequate?"

"Allow me, if you would," murmured the Potions Master. "Draco, do you know who killed Pansy Parkinson?"

"No."

"Why don't you know who killed her?"

"I was unconscious at the time of the murder."

"Did you want to kill her?" Kingsley broke in, his glance telling Snape to let him take it from there.

Draco shook his head. "No."

"Did you threaten to kill her this past November?"

"Yes."

"Did you intend at any point to make good on that threat?"

"No."

"Did you entertain fantasies about killing her?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

"Never," Draco said, looking Kingsley in the eyes. Even without the Veritaserum, Harry would have believed him utterly sincere.

"Then why did you threaten to kill her?"

Draco sighed, the sound full of regret as he looked away to admit the truth about himself. "I was angry. Also, I wanted to to hurt her parents. Also, to warn Slytherin to leave me alone. Also, I was sick and tired of the way she was looking at me. Also, I don't like snakes--"

"That's enough," Kingsley calmly interrupted. Apparently satisfied on that matter, he turned to a new line of questioning. "I understand you were burned by a protective amulet on the day of the murder. May I see the injury?"

"Yes," Draco readily said, though he made no move to unbutton his shirt until Snape gave him a pointed look.

Tonks and Shacklebolt both looked a little taken aback at the extent of the burn. It was still red and raw to Harry's eyes, but less inflamed than the first time he'd seen it. Kingsley spent a few moments evaluating it with spells, then quietly told Draco he could do up his buttons again.

"Albus has the amulet," Snape volunteered. "Cross-spelling will demonstrate that it is what caused the burn."

Kingsley nodded, then started in again with questions. "On the day of the murder, what caused you to become unconscious?"

"A hex." Draco didn't mention the Somulus but Harry figured that was because he didn't technically know it for a fact; he'd only been told about it afterwards.

"Did you hex yourself?"

"No."

"Who hexed you, then?"

"I don't know."

"Who would be able to identify who hexed you?" pressed the Auror.

"Pansy Parkinson," Draco said, his voice going blank, though he shifted restlessly as though uncomfortable. "Also, whoever carried out the assault. Also, whoever was with them. Also, anyone who might have been walking past. Also, any ghosts who might have been nearby--"

Kingsley glanced at his automatic quill to stop it from moving, then raised his voice a notch to cut Draco off. "That's enough. Why would Pansy Parkinson know who hexed you?"

"They hexed her, too. She saw them."

A pause as the Auror considered that. "You were with Pansy Parkinson the day she died."

Draco nodded as he reached up to tug at his collar a bit.

Kingsley frowned. "Did you cast Corpus Aqueous on her?"

"No."

"Did you hurt her in any way?"

"No."

"What did you do to her?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but no words issued forth. Harry thought he must be fighting the Veritaserum. Fighting, and losing. Draco's face flushed as he looked down at the table and began to speak. There was no serenity in his voice now. He sounded like every syllable was being dragged from him.

"I kissed her. Also, I ran my hands through her hair. Also, I told her I loved her. Also, I asked if she liked the locket I got her for Christmas. Also, I put my hands up her skirt and--"

"That's enough!" Harry blurted, glaring a bit at the Aurors, Tonks included, though none of it had been her fault.

Kingsley looked apologetic as he said, "Would you like a drink before we proceed?"

Draco didn't look up. "No."

Since that was no doubt as true as all the rest, Kingsley nodded in brisk agreement. Tapping his quill to wake it up, he said in an entirely different tone, "Mr Malfoy. Before you were disinherited you came into possession of a great deal of information the Ministry would find useful. We're going to talk about those matters, now."

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"Thank you," Kingsley said as he was preparing to leave. Shaking Draco's hand once more, he smiled gently. "I hope the experience wasn't too upsetting?"

"It was nauseating."

Harry almost laughed at the look on the Aurors' faces. "Hey, you shouldn't ask unless you want to know."

"You are fully satisfied?" Snape asked.

"Yes," said Kingsley.

"No," said Draco.

The Potions Master smiled wryly as he turned to his Slytherin son. "Not every question is for you, you idiot boy."

Draco nodded, the motion slightly jerky. "I think I'd better go have a lie-down and let it wear off. Should I go back to... ah..." The Fidelius charm stopped him from saying anything more.

"You'll stay here," Snape assured him, patting his shoulder twice, then dropping his arm. "Go to your room and rest for as long as you need."

"My room," said Draco, looking just a little bit dazed. "I... you know I think I thought I'd never see it again."

"You can't get rid of us that easily," said Harry. "Do you need some Stomach Calming Draught?"

"No."

"Sure?"

Draco shook his head in emphatic denial. "It was the experience that was nauseating, not the potion. I'll be all right." He turned to go, then turned back. Harry thought he seemed unsteady on his feet.

Snape seemed to understand things differently. "The Aurors are satisfied, Draco. You can rest easy now."

"I have to hear it from them--"

"Mr Malfoy, our report will read that your own Veritaserum testimony demonstrates you could not have killed the young lady. You will not be charged. Moreover, we will indicate that we have uncovered evidence of a conspiracy to unjustly incriminate you. Will that suffice?"

"I don't know," Draco murmured, still compelled to be utterly truthful.

"Go rest, Draco," Snape instructed, then watched, his dark gaze troubled as the boy nodded, walked away, and shut his door.

"Can I have a copy of your report?" Harry asked Kingsley. "I'd like to show it to a couple of friends."

"A copy will be placed in his student file. As your father's on staff I imagine he could allow you access to it. Just so you know, Tonks and I will be applying some creative editing to parts of the Veritaserum transcript. I think it's best to eliminate all reference to him meeting Parkinson on the day of the murder. Too much fodder for speculation. Tell Malfoy that his testimony matches yours. He was here all day with you."

Harry nodded. "Good.... So, are you going to put a good word in for him? You see now, don't you? He's not what you thought."

"Potter, if and when Draco Malfoy applies to the Aurors' program, I'll speak my mind. And in the meantime, I'll keep my eye on him. That's the best I can do."

"All right. Um, what about Lucius Malfoy? Will he finally be charged for what he did to me on Samhain? You've got several witnesses now; you've got an account of the whole thing given under truth serum--"

Harry stopped speaking because Snape was giving him a rather stern look. "What? That wasn't disrespectful, was it?"

"No. We'll speak about it after the Aurors leave."

Taking the hint, Harry fell silent, though he listened carefully as Snape saw the Aurors out.

"Have Albus read the transcript in full and suggest edits," the Potions Master was quietly urging them. "Make sure you excise everything he wants left out. There's quite a lot at stake, though I'm sure you realise I can't explain further."

Kingsley nodded and shook Snape's hand, then left. Tonks shrugged lightly but then she shook the Potions Master's hand as well.

The minute the door closed, automatically warding them in with silencing spells, Harry blurted, "Don't you want Malfoy to stand trial for what he did to me? Bloody hell, I'm half-blind now and it's not Draco's fault at all, it's his--"

Snape drew his wand and warded the door to the boys' bedroom so that Draco couldn't hear anything further. "I want Lucius dead or in Azkaban for what he did to you, make no mistake," he said, eyes narrowed with anger. "I want him to kill him myself, Harry, to burn him alive as you once threatened to do. But think. Think strategically! What good is Lupin's masquerade if Lucius is publicly convicted for the atrocities he's committed?"

Harry chewed his lip. "I'm not used to all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. I guess I should get used to it. So that's why he's never been charged? I sort of figured it was the way he practically owns half the people who work for the Ministry."

"You exaggerate, though it would be unwise to underestimate his influence, certainly." Walking to the Floo, Snape threw some powder in and called through for a pot of tea. Only when he was seated with a cup in hand, watching Harry serve himself, did he resume speaking. "You must understand, Harry. For a long while after Samhain I was utterly caught up in healing you physically, and then in arranging the blood wards here and trying to understand your rather Gryffindor needs. I wanted Lucius brought to justice but I wondered if being forced to relive Samhain at a trial would be the best thing for you." Snape sighed and sipped his tea. "I let Albus put me off, but in retrospect I can see that his excuses were vapid, feeble things. Had I been less focussed on you, I would have guessed he had some scheme underway regarding Lucius."

Hearing the apology that Snape really hadn't said, Harry put a hand on his father's knee and squeezed lightly. "It's all right. I didn't blame you that he wasn't sent to Azkaban. I just figured it was one of those things." He thought Snape still looked upset about how he'd handled the matter back then, so Harry went on, "Listen, I don't like Lucius out making trouble, but maybe Remus can make enough trouble for him to make it worthwhile. And I can't complain about your focusing on me, can I? I've... well, I'd never really had that before. I needed it, and you did a good job of it, too. All the more so, now that I understand you better."

Snape looked tired as he glanced up, his eyes hooded. "What do you understand?"

Harry thought about that for a minute. "It goes back to Gryffindor needs, like you said. Draco makes sense to you because you've been there. You know what it's like to think that someone's just using the word love to get you to be what they want. But after you got to know me, after you knew about the Dursleys, you could tell I needed to hear it even if you weren't very used to saying it." Harry drank his own tea for a bit, then set his cup down. "You know what I think?"

"I suspect I will in a minute."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, you will. It seems to me that you're good at whatever you put your mind to. Potions Master, that speaks for itself. And spy. And becoming a father to Draco and me, messed up as we are. And when you really wanted to teach me Occlumency, I mean when you weren't doing it because your arm was being twisted, you were fantastic. In fact you should teach it to Draco. Anyway, that's what I think."

Snape set his own cup down with a little more force than was warranted. "I am not a fool. That is not all you think. You are getting at something."

Harry thought about denying it, then decided that his father really would listen to anything when they were alone. Standing up, he stretched before admitting, "It's just that you could be a really good teacher if you put your mind to that, Severus. But don't worry, you won't hear one word of complaint from me in class. Promise."

"You're not as far removed from Draco as you think," Snape murmured.

"Come again?"

Rising to his feet, Snape crossed the distance separating them and looked intently down at his son. "You don't view love as manipulation, but somewhere deep down you do suspect it's conditional. How could you not, with the way those... the Dursleys, treated you? Harry, I trust you not to take this as license, but if you offend me we will get through it. You don't have to be perfect."

"I know." Harry sighed then, stepping close enough so that he could lean against his father. Snape's arms came around to hold him, which helped him admit, "When I was little I did try really hard to be perfect. I wanted Aunt Petunia to like me, but I couldn't be good enough to make it happen. Well, of course not. I couldn't get rid of the magic, I see that now. It's kind of funny when you think about it. She didn't have any logical excuse for caring so much if I was a wizard. But you... you had every reason in the world to want me to stay magical, but you loved me even though I'd lost my powers. That's pretty much unconditional."

He felt Snape lightly patting his back. "Perhaps you understand rather more than I thought."

If he did, it was because Snape had put himself out to meet those Gryffindor needs, Harry thought. He didn't say that though; there was no cause. He knew what Snape had done for him, and Snape knew that he knew... and that was enough for the moment. He wriggled a bit so his father would let him go, then grinned. "If I need to understand still more I'm sure I can learn by experience, eh?"

"Cheeky," was Snape's reply to that, but his dark eyes looked pleased. "I'm of a mind to let Draco rest. He'll need it after being subjected to that sludge the Ministry has the effrontery to term Veritaserum. Why don't you set the menu for all of us, Harry, and cast a warming charm over his portion?"

Harry nodded, and then because he thought Draco deserved something special, he told the kitchens they all wanted gigot d'agneau à la provençale with crème brulée for dessert.

-----------------------------------------------

Draco slept straight through until almost ten o'clock. Harry kept checking on him, a bit worried, though Snape had assured him that it was entirely normal after imbibing, as he put it, less than perfectly brewed Veritaserum.

Finally Harry heard the shower running, though Draco evidently wasn't in a mood for singing. When he came out in fresh clothes, his hair still a tiny bit damp, he looked like he needed another twelve hours' sleep. Hunger, apparently, had driven him to leave his bed.

"Dinner, good," he said, sitting down to tuck in. "Where's Severus?"

Harry took a seat facing his brother. "He said he had to see to some things." Frowning, he gestured toward Draco's glass of pumpkin juice. "Sorry, I forgot to keep that cool. Should I get you some fresh?"

"Leave it, it's fine."

"Or would you rather have tea?"

Draco slanted him a glance. "Potter, I don't know what's given you the impression that I've become an invalid, but I assure you I can Floo for an alternate drink if I want one."

"All right." Harry worried his lip a little with his teeth. "So... has the truth serum worn off then? Completely?"

"Hmm, let's see. My name is Alistair Fiddlejumper the Third and I was born during the Goblin Wars of 1247... Yes, Harry, I seem to be completely over my bizarre fixation to be truthful. I suppose now you won't trust me when I say the pumpkin juice is fine?"

Laughing a bit, Harry admitted, "I just didn't want to make you talk when you were still under the influence. You know, it wouldn't be fair."

"Gryffindor." Draco took a bite of his lamb and sighed. "Mmm, now that's very nice." Another bite, this time lingering over it, and then, "Thanks, Harry."

"For dinner?"

"For not taking advantage, I meant. It's not too horrible having a Gryffindor for a brother. Well, sometimes it's horrible. You know."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. And he did. He knew exactly what Draco meant.

-----------------------------------------------

After dinner, Draco insisted that he wanted to wait up for Snape, but he was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. It didn't take long before he fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Sighing, Harry shook him awake and sent him to bed, feeling oddly like he imagined Molly Weasley must.

He stayed up alone for a long time, pulling this book and that off the shelves in the living room, just killing time until Snape came home, but he finally got so tired himself that he had to give it up. By then, Snape had been gone for hours and hours. What could be taking the man so long? For that matter, what was so urgent that it needed Snape's attention tonight? Didn't the man know that Draco would be feeling bruised and raw and in need of reassurance?

Actually, Harry was positive that Snape knew that.

Sighing, he looked down at his ring to summon some Parseltongue, then called for Sals. She'd been hiding, though not in the Floo, thank goodness. She'd crawled behind some of the books on the lowest shelf of a bookcase, and though she poked her head out at Harry's call, she wouldn't really slither forth until he assured her that Draco was asleep for the night. Harry supposed he really couldn't blame her. Sals had always been a little afraid of Draco, and that was before he'd smashed her box with her in it.

Harry went to sleep with the little snake curled up on his wrist, and dreamed that Basilisks were chasing him until, strangely, their scales erupted into blisters. The Basilisks collapsed, groaning, unable to move, but Snape was there with his potions, tending them...

Harry awoke with a start, shuddering, and dosed himself with a dollop of Dreamless Sleep before laying back down.

On Sunday morning Draco had more colour in his cheeks, though he slumbered on. Harry showered and dressed, and when none of the resulting noise caused his brother to stir in the least, he thought he'd better go get their father to check on him. But just then the Slytherin boy rolled over, mumbling something about dragons looking for treasure. Or maybe it was Dragon my treasure. Hard to tell. Either way, Harry frowned.

Snape was buttering a slice of rye toast when Harry joined him at the table. There was a full breakfast laid out with three plates. Harry served himself a healthy pile of scrambled eggs and a banger. "Draco's still sort of out of it."

The Potions Master nodded. "He did wake up last night to eat?"

"Yeah, and he wanted to talk to you," Harry said. As hints went, that one was pretty pointed, but Snape didn't take the bait. "All right, where were you?" he finally gave in and asked, his frustrations sort of boiling over. "Did the Aurors need you for something else? Were you helping them edit the transcript? Whatever you were doing, I hope it was important."

"Very."

"That's it? Very?" Harry stabbed at his eggs with his fork. They were just as delicious as always, but for some reason the taste didn't appeal this morning. A heavy sprinkling of pepper and salt helped, though not much. He thought about asking the kitchens for ketchup but decided not to bother. "Is it something I don't need to know, is that it?"

"Harry, I had a number of things to do," Snape told him. "Kingsley needed me to fill out an authorization for Veritaserum to be used on you. Otherwise, we can't claim that Draco's alibi has been verified via truth serum."

"Did he remember to pour out six drops more so it looks like he potioned you and me both?"

"He's a senior Auror, Harry," Snape said, shaking his head. "He's not going to overlook a detail like that. I also went to Devon to collect Draco's books and yes, I did spend some time consulting with elements of the Order. Your brother's not completely secure yet, I hope you realise. It might interest you to know that Fudge has arranged for a special meeting of the Board of Governors for this coming Friday. There is but one topic on the agenda."

"Expelling Draco," Harry said, groaning. "The minister himself is going to push for it? I really hate that man."

Snape curled a lip. "Oh, but he's doing it in the interests of protecting the student population at Hogwarts if one is to believe his official communiqué."

"That's so unfair! Draco hasn't even been charged with anything!"

"Which is almost certainly why Lucius has persuaded Fudge to begin making moves. By late last night, Lucius had realised that we had managed to subvert his scheme to use Magical Law Enforcement against Draco. This is his contingency plan. In some ways it is a stronger gambit still. Some of the Board will be in Lucius' pocket as a matter of course. The others need only be persuaded that Draco poses a danger to other students, even if there was insufficient evidence for the Aurors to bring formal charges in the murder."

"Great." Harry shuddered. "So, how's the weather in Argentina this time of year? Oh, I think the seasons down there are reversed or something, it might be coming on towards winter. Well, we're wizards. I suppose we can manage. I'll really miss Hogwarts, though. Just my luck. What'll I get, five days back in the Tower before you resign again, this time for good?"

"I wouldn't plan on leaving just yet. The Order is doing what it can to foil Lucius. As am I."

Which explained the man's absence the night before, Harry supposed, but on some level it still bothered him. "Dad... I appreciate how hard you're working on that, and I'm sure Draco does too, but don't you think he'd feel a lot better if you sat him down for... um, a father-son talk?"

Snape finished his last bite and banished his plate away, then folded his hands on the table. "What makes you think I haven't done that? I don't hold my talks with you when he is present, do I? I quite assure you, Draco and I had ample opportunity for discussion when I went to fetch him yesterday."

Harry was glad to hear it, but he still wanted to know one thing. "Did you tell him that you love him?"

Snape's eyebrows drew together, a storm gathering in the dark tunnels of his eyes, but he mastered his anger enough to speak in level tones. "It's best if you don't lecture me on how to treat my other son."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I wasn't lecturing, I was just asking."

The Potions Master challenged him with a stare to rethink that claim.

"All right, I was lecturing some," Harry slowly admitted. "I didn't mean to but... it's just that you didn't see him last night. He kept watching the Floo, waiting for you. He had something to say, I could tell."

"More likely he wondered what I would have to say about the fact that he's written a grand total of three lines. I told him we'd be discussing the matter later."

"I guess that would trouble him." Worried, Harry slumped a bit in his chair. "Making him write that he's not a Gryffindor is... um, pretty harsh, I think. What if he won't do it?"

"Oh, he'll do it," Snape said, his eyes glinting with determination.

"Otherwise, what? Cauldron duty? You won't let him go to Devon to go flying?" Harry stopped talking when he realised he might be giving the man good ideas. His breakfast finished by then, he pushed back his chair. "So... today's the big day. Funny, I thought I'd be more excited. Well, I am but it's sort of overshadowed by this whole mess. I wonder if I should even bother packing all my stuff. Well, at least I can pack it all now. Did I mention Draco had spelled some wizardspace into my trunk?"

Snape rose fluidly to his feet, his features far from pleased. "I told him to leave your packing problem to me."

"Why?"

Snape glared. "I thought you needed one of those father-son talks you're so inordinately fond of. The topic being, why you felt compelled in the first place to gather up every trace of your life here and transport it all to the Tower."

Harry blinked. "Well, because it's my stuff, I guess. I mean, I always take everything along when I go back to school..." It suddenly felt like the floor did a smooth roll beneath him; Harry actually grew dizzy for an instant. Paradigm shift. Again. "Oh," he softly said, feeling ten times a fool. His father had told him ages ago that that room was his room and would remain so even after he returned to the Tower, but when the time came close, what had Harry done but moan and groan about how all his stuff wouldn't fit in his trunk!

"I get it," he finally said, the room steadying around him as he took a calming breath. "Will it help if I apologise?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm hardly angry; I merely want you to understand that when I say you're welcome here, it's not some theoretical construct. You're my son, for Merlin's sake--"

"I get it, I do," Harry assured him, but Snape didn't seem able to stop his stream of thought.

"I don't want you knocking, I don't want you acting like a guest when you visit, and I certainly don't want you erasing all indications that you ever lived here," the Potions Master went right on. "I know that home is an abstraction at best for you, but it's time you understood--"

"I understand!" Harry shouted, then could have groaned at the tone it had come out in. At least Snape had stopped talking, though. He went on in a more normal voice, "I just didn't think about it, I swear. I never had a place where I could leave anything; I'm used to shoving it all in my trunk. It's habit, that's all. I know this is my home."

"Good." Snape nodded as though satisfied.

"I'll go figure out what to leave behind then," Harry said. "I guess I don't need some of my books from previous years. Though I don't have anywhere to put them except in my trunk. I feel sort of bad to leave them cluttering up the room. I mean, won't they just remind Draco that I've gone back to classes while he's stuck here? Hmm, that'll be moot if we all have to leave the country--"

"I have absolutely no intention of brushing up my Spanish."

"Well, Brazil, then. Oh wait, do they speak Spanish in Brazil?"

Snape gave him a derisive glance. "I'll tell Albus we ought to offer a geography course."

"Portuguese, all right. I just forgot for a second, no need to pile more classes on us. Well, let me go figure out what to leave here and where to stow it." At that, Snape got an odd look in his eyes. Uncertainty? Whatever it was, it didn't much suit him. "Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

"No." The word and tone were short. "I told Draco to stay out of your luggage angst because I already had a solution--"

"Luggage angst!" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I should have known that teenagers would believe they had to solve it all themselves," Snape drawled, his posture a little tense. "As I was aware that Draco would not care to be tripping over your belongings, I thought I would offer you the use of my old school trunk so that you could have one here as well as one in the Tower."

"Oh!" Harry felt a grin threatening to break. "Thanks, Dad. That's really sweet."

"Sweet." Snape looked a bit as though he might bite his own tongue in two.

"Considerate, I meant," Harry quickly said. He couldn't believe he'd just called Snape that. "Um, is your trunk is inscribed with your initials?"

The man still looked sour. "It is."

"I'll take yours with me to the Tower, then. I'd like to be able to casually toss out that you lent it to me. You know, it'd go a long way towards showing some of the more stubborn Gryffindors that you really are my dad."

Snape huffed slightly at that. "Just do not tell them that you consider me sweet."

"I'm trying to avoid a reputation as a nutter, remember?" Harry laughed. "Besides, Fred and George thought it was loads of fun to do strange things to other people's stuff. Before I left Gryffindor all those months ago, it looked like a few people were trying to carry on the legacy. But nobody would dare lay a finger on your trunk, sir. I mean, they'd expect it to be hexed in about a thousand different ways. No offence."

The Potions Master's eyes took on a mirthful gleam. Devilish, Harry thought. "Well, there's a time and place for fear. As it happens, your friends would be right. I believe you've even encountered this particular hex. It's the same one I utilized to ward my liquor cabinet."

Harry felt his face heating, but decided the Slytherin thing would be to brazen it out. "Oh, you warded it? I never knew."

"Just like you never stole my Boomslang skin and Gillyweed?"

"I didn't!" Harry drew in a deep breath, the old accusation bothering him more than it probably should. "You really should believe me."

"It hardly matters now." And then, at Harry's crestfallen look, "Very well then, if you must know, I do believe you about that, but not about the liquor. Enough of such matters. The question now is what to do with the hex on my trunk. We can either alter it to recognise you as well as me, or dispense with the warding altogether."

Harry thought about that. "Well, it's not like I live in Slytherin, you know. I can see why you needed to hex your own trunk, but--" He stopped talking when Snape actually snorted. "What?"

"I didn't hex it to fend off fellow Slytherins, you idiot child. I was tired of a certain Gryffindor using his invisibility cloak to sneak about in the dungeons. Your father used to target my belongings for his pranks, but that put an end to it."

His stomach twisting a bit, Harry frowned. "You're my father."

The Potions Master's eyebrows drew together. "Sit," he directed, pointing, his tone of voice almost harsh.

Confused by the lightning shift of mood, Harry sank into a chair. "What's wrong? I've been calling you that for a while. You said it was all right."

Snape took a place on the sofa and leaned forward intently, his black eyes steady on Harry's face. "It is not all right for you to distance yourself from James, Harry. I am your father, yes. But so was he. Don't deny it again."

"I don't--"

"You do, every time you say James in reference to him."

"Well, that was his name, you know." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you sure I've been calling him that?"

"I've been meaning to speak to you about it."

That sounded sort of ominous. Maybe that explained why it felt a bit hard to breathe. "All right, I'll work on it."

The Potions Master lapsed into thought for a moment. "You seem to be caught an a dichotomy. But there's no need for one."

"Really?" Harry folded his arms in front of him. "It'd probably help if I told you I don't know that word."

A slow smile curled Snape's lips. "There's no need for you to make an either/or choice of father, Harry." His smile fading, Snape continued, "It occurs to me that you've been doing this all along. When the adoption first took place, you actually experienced guilt over agreeing."

Harry thought back. It seemed like a long time ago. A lifetime, but he could still remember. That awful clamping feeling like he was doing something wrong... visions of James Potter spinning 'round and 'round in his grave... Harry sighed. "I did think at one point that it was pretty disloyal to James... shite, you're right, I do call him that."

Snape took Harry's hands in his. "Say my father."

"Right." Words starting tumbling over his teeth as he tried to make sense of his own tangled feelings. "I know that by the time my father died you weren't horrible enemies any longer and you were on the same side and knew it and all that, but I still thought that if J... my father could see me signing on to be your son, he'd basically sick up. I needed the blood wards but I could hardly stand the thought of what I was doing..." When Harry thought back over what he'd said he could have cringed, but Snape merely looked at him with a steady black gaze and gave him time to work his way through it.

Harry didn't say anything else, though. He didn't know what to say.

"At some point your perceptions about being adopted changed," the Potions Master finally prompted.

"Hard to say when, exactly, but yes. Obviously." His throat felt dry, so Harry went over to the Floo to throw some powder in. "One Butterbeer." He belatedly threw a glance over his shoulder. "Do you want something?"

"Just for you to be at ease."

Talk about tall orders. Harry sat down with his drink and started nursing it. He wished it was later so he could claim to be sleepy and avoid this. Snape probably wouldn't buy that, though, not before lunch. Then again, he'd just let him have a Butterbeer before lunch. That was pretty interesting.

"So, you started off as my son feeling you had to stay loyal to your first father," Snape prompted. "I was aware of that, so don't feel you must spare my feelings, Harry. When did you start thinking that your loyalty was something to overcome?"

Harry's hand clenched on his glass. "I don't know. It's not like I woke up one day and decided. It just happened, bit by bit. I think maybe it started after that big fight we had. See, I realised that I really wanted you to be my father. And then... well I know he was fifteen and an idiot and all that, but it wasn't right, how he treated you in school. It was almost like saying my father was a slap in your face. Because you were the one who was being a father to me."

Snape frowned. "James was a father to you as well. A very good one, in fact."

Harry felt a bit ill but a big swallow of cold Butterbeer seemed to calm his stomach. "I know. Sort of. I mean, I have memories now, from Truthful Dreams. But it's like they're someone else's memories. I can remember dreaming them, but not them really happening. The dreams helped me at first. I felt so loved... but after a while I started thinking that it hadn't done me much good. I mean, he died and I was left with... well, you know. And I forgot about the love until I had you to show me with the potion that it had ever been there." Harry glanced up. "I owe it all to you, even the memories, that's all. I know you don't like me thanking you but honestly, I don't think you understand how much I appreciate everything. And then there was Draco saying Lucius instead of my father, you know, and it just seemed like... if he could move forward then why should I still be clinging onto the past?"

"Draco," Snape carefully said, "is trying to distance himself from his father, but there is no reason for you to feel ashamed of yours."

"But he was so awful to you," Harry protested, a thin film hazing the vision in his good eye. It went away when he blinked, so he told himself he wasn't crying, not really.

Snape waited until his son looked at him. "Your allegiance to me is impressive, and I do appreciate it, but you need to forgive your father, Harry. My old wounds no longer fester, as I told you... but it seems that you have taken them on yourself. My doing, likely. I vented my rage on an innocent child, simply because he was a reminder. I don't believe I have ever even apologised--"

"We're past that now," Harry quickly said. "It's all right."

"It was ill-done of me and I am in fact sorry." Snape brushed his long hair away from his face. "More than you can know, because I see now that my own displays of bitterness have led you to deny James. Back then, I wanted you to be ashamed of him. It was a way of getting back, that I could make his own son despise him. But you're the one I've hurt with my pettiness."

Harry rolled the empty glass between his palms. "I don't despise him. I just never have understood how he could be so mean. You didn't even do anything to him that day."

"What your father did is nothing to what I myself have done. How can you overlook crimes worthy of Azkaban yet resent James Potter's pranks? Draco has done worse to you, yet you've forgiven him."

"He hasn't spun me upside down so everybody can see my-- Sorry."

Snape ignored the reference. "He dressed as a Dementor, knowing full well that you might lose consciousness and fall from your broom while flying at high-velocity. That was worse. What he did to help Umbridge was worse. Attending Samhain eager to see you tortured was worse."

"He's probably awake and listening."

"Don't change the subject. James Potter was and is your father, and I do not expect to hear differently from your lips. And I am your father as well. There is no dichotomy and no competition. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded. Strange how it could feel good to be lectured, he thought. But it did. The tight knot of tension in his belly was easing some. Maybe it just came from knowing that Snape wanted what was best for him... that Snape could care enough about him to talk like this. The old wounds obviously had closed over. Harry hadn't really believed that before, not completely. But he could see now that it was true.

He nodded again, the gesture that time more definite, and told himself he'd try to notice if he said James again. So he could stop it. "Um, I actually was serious about Draco probably listening. He's not going to feel great that we were sitting out here discussing all his past mistakes."

"We were hardly doing that, but as it happens, the door is still warded from last night." Snape studied Harry, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "So, you never answered me. Shall we remove the hex on my trunk or would you rather it continue to stain prying hands?"

"No hex. Your initials alone should be enough to scare everybody off. Besides, it's not like the other Gryffindors would steal from me or anything."

"Very well, no hex. Go see if Draco is awake, Harry. After he's had breakfast we can all of us work together on removing the spells on the trunk."

Harry chuckled. "Aren't you worried that if you include us, we'll know how to break the ward on your liquor cabinet?"

Snape's answering glance proved he was amused, too. "Worried? No."

That made sense. No doubt Snape was much better at magic as an adult, than when he had been a student. There were probably several layers of wards on the liquor cabinet, with lock-down spells woven through the mix. Harry still figured he could probably blast through it all with a wanded spell or two, but he decided it wouldn't be very polite to say as much. "I'll go get Draco," he murmured, getting up to do it. "Um, when I pack should I take some Eyesight Elixir? I'm sure Ron could put it in, you know, waiting until nobody else is in the room?"

"I'd prefer to finish researching why it might have hurt you before we proceed with the treatment."

Harry nodded, and turned away towards his bedroom.

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The day passed quickly. Too quickly.

Before Harry knew it, dinner was over and he was standing at the front door of Snape's quarters, a battered old trunk inscribed with SS levitating behind him. Draco was leaning indolently against the opposite wall, a strange smile curling his lips. "Don't forget," he said, his gaze flicking to the crest on Harry's robes. "You're both."

"I'm not going to forget."

"When are you going to start visiting Slytherin, though?"

Harry reflexively smoothed his fringe down over his scar. "I wouldn't think you'd be as concerned about that, now, with people in Slytherin trying so hard to get you imprisoned or expelled."

"Some of them would still make good allies against the Dark Lord." Draco's voice dropped and he looked down at the floor. "Pansy would have. I know it. But even if you don't believe that, well you have that saving-people thing, don't you? Some of them are worth saving, Potter. And you didn't answer me. When are you--"

"Tonight is for Gryffindor," Snape interrupted, his hair swaying as he shook his head at his other son. "As for the other, Harry and I will have to judge the mood of Slytherin and decide. He is going nowhere near the common room until I take him there to introduce him as my son."

Draco pushed off from the wall. "They already know about that."

"No matter. The protocols will be observed. And too, Draco, you might consider that for the moment, Harry is to keep either Miss Granger or Mr Weasley, preferably both, close to him whenever he leaves the Tower."

"That'll make visiting Slytherin a tad difficult."

"Unless I myself am with him," Snape added.

"Hmm. Well, small steps, I suppose. They don't all hate you, Severus. Well, I'm sure you know that."

"Harry, shall we?"

The Gryffindor boy nodded. "I feel sort of funny leaving you here," he said to Draco. "I mean, I feel like we've been in this together up until now."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm not helpless, Harry. I was down here alone at first, you realise." His arrogance fading a bit, the Slytherin boy admitted, "I just hope I get to stay. I... I'm pretty worried I'm going to get expelled. After all, the headmaster doesn't have Order members on the Board. I think I'm sunk."

Snape's voice was brisk. "We have a number of schemes underway to keep you afloat."

"Thanks, Severus." Draco drew in a huge breath. "Well, I guess this is good-bye, then."

"This is see-you-later," Harry corrected with a smile. He sort of wanted to hug Draco, since it seemed the other boy was in need of a little affection, but didn't really dare. "I'll visit soon, promise. So, see you later."

Snape opened the door with a wave of his wand and ushered Harry's borrowed trunk out, but after stepping into the hall with Harry, he glanced back at his other son. "We'll talk when I return, Draco."

The last thing Harry saw as he walked away was the door closing, Draco's face behind it looking wan and forlorn.

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"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from where she was studying to run across the room and enfold him in a big hug. "Oh, we're so glad to see you! McGonagall said you'd be coming back tonight. For good, right? And we wanted to throw you a welcome-back party, but it's a bit awkward." She lowered her voice. "Because the funeral is on Wednesday. Pansy wasn't my favourite person but it still seems wrong to be celebrating."

"That's all right, I didn't need a party--" Harry started to say, only to be blinded by the flash of a camera. "Stop it, Colin!"

"Nice to see you as well, Professor Snape," Hermione said politely, looking over Harry's shoulder. She stepped back then, into the crowd of Gryffindors who had heard her shout and come down from their dormitories.

Snape merely inclined his head in reply, which disappointed Harry a bit. It seemed to him that Hermione was going out of her way to make up for her awful gaffe in contacting Wizard Family Services. Snape obviously hadn't really gotten over that. Well, he did know how to hold a grudge. Harry was just glad he wasn't holding one against James... against his father, any longer.

"Finite Incantatem," the Potions Master said to the floating trunk, which promptly settled to the floor. "I will leave you to your friends, then."

"All right." Everybody was staring at him. He didn't like that at all, but it wasn't going to stop him from doing what he needed to do. Stepping closer to Snape, Harry looked up into his eyes. "Thank you. For everything, Dad."

A collective gasp ripped through the Gryffindors.

Snape looked half-amused, half-exasperated, and half-proud, even though that made three halves. "You are most welcome, son. Well, if you need anything from home you know where I am. And I will see you in class shortly. Be good."

With that, he was stepping through the portrait hole, still open.

Dean frowned at that and waved his wand, but nothing happened. He went over and closed it by hand, muttering something about the Fat Lady never acting that way before.

"Maybe she's scared of Snape," Seamus put in.

Harry felt like he was being pulled in different directions. Or maybe, like he was being tested straight away. Tested on where he really stood. He thought of saying, Listen, Snape's all right, but since there weren't too many Gryffindors who would believe that, it wasn't a very good way to start off.

"Bet you didn't know he can get into the Tower any time he likes," he said with a little laugh. "Turns out the teachers all have special passwords. Good thing, too. I couldn't get in. My old password wasn't working."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" That was Hermione, practically groaning. "We changed it in your honour when we heard you were coming back. But we forgot to tell you, what with everything... anyway, it's Laetissimus. You know, very happy."

Harry didn't know, but he believed Hermione. "Nice," he said to thank her. "Where's Ron?"

"Night Quidditch. I told him he was going to miss you stepping through the portrait hole, but he said you wouldn't come until later. Said Snape would keep you almost until curfew unless he missed his guess." Her eyes sparkled. "I suppose he missed his guess, then."

Well, that explained where Ginny was as well, Harry thought. He frowned, wondering what to do about Seeker. He hadn't played in forever and he really wanted to, but it seemed awful to kick her off the team at this late stage. There were only a couple of Quidditch games left in the season.

"New trunk, Harry?" said Neville as he eyed it. "Well, not new, it looks like it's seen better days but..." Harry knew the exact moment when Neville must have come far enough around the front of the trunk to see the initials. He actually jumped back in alarm.

"Yeah, Severus lent it to me so I could leave my other trunk at home," he said, tossing the sentence out just as casually as he had planned, though he was watching everyone carefully to gauge their reactions.

"I think that's just grand," Hermione said, nodding staunchly. "Right?"

"Yes, it's very... uh, nice." Neville nodded his agreement, though he kept his distance from the trunk.

"Snape, nice!" That was Seamus, guffawing. Then he caught the look on Harry's face. "Sorry. It's just... well, you know. I'm sure you two get on. It's just... Merlin's beard, Snape, nice!"

Harry wasn't going to argue the merits of Snape's personality, especially since the man himself had said not to call him sweet or anything, but neither was he going to pretend the adoption wasn't real. Best to make that clear from the start, he thought. "Listen, everybody," he announced, clearing his throat. "You don't have to like Snape, and you can complain all you like about Potions lessons or points from Gryffindor. But don't insult him, or at least, not to me. Nobody here would like it if I made mean jokes about your parents. Or grandparents," he added, with a glance at Neville.

"Yeah, but Harry--"

He cut Seamus off. "Severus Snape is my father and I love him. Does that settle it for you?"

Harry didn't know if that settled it, but it certainly did shut everyone up. Everyone except Neville, that was. And Hermione.

"Well of course you do," she said, glancing about in challenge. Harry almost laughed. It seemed clear to him that Hermione was really sorry about her earlier behaviour. So very sorry, in fact, that now she was determined to stand by him and Snape. He was proud of her, even if it had taken her an awfully long time to realise she didn't know everything.

"Harry's right," was all Neville said, but Harry really appreciated it all the same.

"I also don't want to hear anybody here accusing Draco Malfoy of murder," Harry continued, staring at several Gryffindors in turn. "He's been cleared by the Ministry, and that's that."

"You don't want much, do you?" asked Ron as he stepped into the room, the Gryffindor Quidditch team close behind. He was smiling, though, so Harry didn't take him too seriously. "Good to see you here, mate!"

"Good to be here." Tired of being the centre of attention, Harry flopped down onto a couch. "Don't mind me. I'm not the resident celebrity, you know. I'm just glad to get back to normal life."

Most of the Gryffindors drifted off, leaving Harry alone in the common room with a few of his closest friends. He lost a chess game to Ron, then looked at Quidditch magazines with Ginny, and watched Hermione valiantly struggle to ignore the books and essays that were clearly calling her. Ron and Hermione managed to draw him aside at one point and ask how he really was; he quickly told them about his eye so they'd know he didn't see well to the left.

Between all the chatter and fun, Harry didn't get to bed until after midnight. He'd forgotten how great it was in the Tower. As he drifted off to sleep, though, Sals in a little heap by his side, his thoughts wandered down into the very bowels of Hogwarts.

He was happy, he was. He really was. But for all that, Harry Potter missed his family already.

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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other

Chapter Seventy-Five: Just Another Average Week at Hogwarts


Betaed by the Fabulous Mercredi.
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