Lily's Charm

1996

Severus eyed the Headmaster expectantly as he gestured for the Potions Master to sit.

"We will need enough Polyjuice Potion for at least twelve hours," Albus told Severus as he sat lightly in a chair.

Severus nodded. "Who is going?"

"Alastor," Albus answered immediately, and Severus was satisfied with his choice. At the look in Severus' eyes, Albus sighed a little. "I never had a chance to apologize to Harry."

"For which mistake?" Severus inquired icily.

Albus lifted his spectacles to rub tired fingers over his eyelids and Severus felt a hint of guilt for his anger at the Headmaster. The old wizard was doing the best that could be expected in an entirely impossible situation. "For Remus, Severus. You must know I didn't mean for anything to happen to him."

Severus pursed his lips, not entirely able to believe the Headmaster. "He is a Gryffindor, Albus. Did you really expect him to simply stand by and watch while you attempted to get yourself killed?"

Albus shook his head regretfully. "He insisted Severus. I couldn't stop him."

"Perhaps you should have tried harder," Severus said coldly and then looked away, shocked at his own vehemence.

"Harry would have preferred for me to be in the infirmary." It was not a question and Severus didn't answer. "I do not blame him, of course." Albus said quietly. The room was silent for several moments. "I didn't know what else to do, Severus."

Severus firmed his jaw, knowing Albus was referring to the Dursleys. "Any one of the staff would have taken Harry," he snapped, unwilling now to restrain his anger on his son's behalf.

Albus shook his head with remorse. "Don't you think I know that, Severus? He was safest at the Dursleys..."

"Your definition of safety is very different from Harry's," Severus retorted.

Albus gazed at him and Severus could almost hear what the Headmaster was thinking.

If you hadn't left your family, Harry would never have had to go to the Dursleys at all.

Severus clenched his jaw, pushing down the guilt as it threatened to turn to rage at the Headmaster. The assertion was inarguable; the blame lay just as much, if not more, with Severus. "The Polyjuice will be ready tomorrow morning," Severus informed the Headmaster, determined not to continue the other conversation.

Albus' old blue eyes held Severus' steadily for another few seconds before he answered quietly, "Bring it to my office as soon as it's ready. Alastor will be here first thing."

Severus nodded tersely and stood up.

"I am sorry, Severus."

"Perhaps you should tell Harry," Severus told the Headmaster stiffly. He waited only long enough for the Headmaster to sigh in resignation and then Severus spun around, leaving the Headmaster to his recriminations as he stepped into the Floo and called for his quarters.

--

Potions class had been blissfully peaceful since the little incident after the Quidditch game. Harry didn't know what Lucius had said to Malfoy, and Severus had been close lipped about the entire subject when Harry had asked, but whatever had happened between father and son had been enough to rein the Slytherin in again. Malfoy had been practically pleasant during the last few class sessions. This Tuesday was more of the same.

"I can take a turn stirring," Harry offered as they were finishing their Stumping Potion. It needed to be stirred for fifteen minutes and Malfoy had already been stirring for at least half that.

Malfoy lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. "It needs to be a continuous motion...I don't mind," he told Harry, not taking his eyes off the bubbling cauldron.

"All right," Harry agreed as he nodded; it was much easier to give Malfoy a chance when he wasn't being insufferable. Harry smiled slightly to himself as he thought wryly that he himself hadn't exactly always been a model of good intentions toward the other boy.

While Harry waited for Malfoy to finish stirring, he began to clean up their supplies, making sure he picked up Malfoy's as well and put the ingredients back neatly into the Slytherin's expensive case. Malfoy looked at him briefly after Harry had finished and inclined his head, as though in gratitude. Harry shrugged in response; things were getting strange indeed.

He said as much to Remus as they walked to his office after dinner. When Harry asked his friend what could have made Malfoy change his attitude so completely, Remus frowned. "Lucius Malfoy is not exactly the soul of patience. I doubt that would change much when dealing with Draco."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You don't think he hurt him, do you?" he asked suddenly and then wondered why he should even care. If he had ever known anyone in need of a good head-knocking, it was Draco Malfoy...well maybe Dudley as well, he conceded.

"I don't know, Harry," Remus replied, shaking his head, though it was obvious his friend was bothered by the idea. Harry bit his lip, feeling wary about his future interactions with Draco. Even though the Slytherin was a terror, he certainly didn't want him to be hurt by his own father. The few times he'd actually seen Malfoy with Lucius, the man hadn't exactly seemed to be brimming over with affection for his son.

Harry and Remus finished their walk in silence and Remus patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry smiled at his friend, knowing he was trying to bolster his spirits. "Try not to worry yourself sick over it," Remus advised.

"Are you trying to say I have an obsessive personality?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"You are rather like your father in that," Remus said with a laugh. Merlin, it was strange to hear Remus say something like that and know he was actually referring to Severus. "Go on, Harry," Remus urged. His friend pushed him toward the Floo, still smiling.

Harry went into the Floo, and he actually managed to step out into his father's quarters without falling all over himself.

"Impressive," his father remarked, noting the easy entrance.

Harry grinned. "Thanks. What are we doing tonight?" he asked eagerly. He had enjoyed their past session; his father really did know a lot of useful spells.

"A curse," Severus told him. "It wounds in a way, similar to a Muggle sword," he explained. "'Sectumsempra' is the incantation."

"Sectumsempra?" Harry repeated, making sure he'd gotten the pronunciation correct. His father nodded and demonstrated the precise wand movements and then nodded for Harry to give it a try on one of the sofa cushions. Harry steadied his stance and aimed, carefully following his father's instruction, as he chanted, "Sectumsempra." His first several tries had less than satisfactory results, as his father ever so helpfully pointed out. Finally though, the pillow split neatly in two. Harry grinned.

"Excellent, Harry," his father approved and Harry nodded happily. "You realize however that the spell can irreparably damage an opponent," Severus said seriously. Harry frowned.

"You can, of course, target less vital parts of the body to stop an opponent just as effectively...to sever a leg perhaps, though detaching a wand arm, or better yet, both arms might prove more useful," Severus suggested thoughtfully and Harry felt all at once very ill. Harry's sudden disquiet must have shown on his face as Severus took hold of his son's arm firmly and pushed him into one of the chairs; Severus sat opposite him.

He studied Harry for a moment before saying quietly, "You are preparing for battle. These are not merely exercises for sport."

Harry nodded shakily. "I know," he said, just as quietly. "I just don't like thinking about it," he explained.

Severus pursed his lips and Harry waited warily, knowing that whatever his father was going to say, he wasn't going to like much. He was right. "You fought with Death Eaters at the ministry," his father began and he almost sounded tentative. Harry tensed. "Of course I do understand how unthinkable the idea is to you, but the struggle would have ended much sooner had any one of you employed such a curse." His father paused and then added, sounding weary, "In reality Harry, it is astonishing that all of you managed to escape with your lives."

Harry's teeth clamped together as Sirius' face floated in his mind. Forcing the image away and easing his storm to calm again, Harry shook his head. He knew his father wasn't trying to bring up painful memories; he had a point. But Harry didn't think he could do it nonetheless.

"If I start aiming to kill, I'm just as bad as they are," he objected, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. He didn't know why it mattered anyway...he was already going to have kill Voldemort.

It was Severus' turn to shake his dark head. "I am not necessarily asking that of you, which is why I explained how to use that particular curse to disable your opponent, rather than to kill him...if possible. However, it is not a sound battle tactic to continue to allow your enemy to continually come back for you." When Harry didn't answer, Severus pressed, "Would you ask your friends to forfeit their lives to allow a Death Eater to live?"

Harry stared at his father, as terrible visions of masked Death Eaters, surrounding his friends, danced morbidly in front of his vision. "No," he said firmly, no trace of indecision in his voice. He'd be daft to wish something like that.

"Then neither should you ask that of yourself."

It took another moment for that to sink in but as it did, Harry nodded. He didn't know how well he would fare if he actually did have to do such harm to someone, but his father was right. All of them were going to be fighting for their lives. He couldn't afford to be squeamish.

--

The common room was brimming with excited Gryffindors when Harry stepped through the portrait hole a couple hours later. Ron waved him over to a loud group of sixth years.

"What's going on?" Harry asked curiously.

"We're going to have a dance!" Parvati gushed; Ron rolled his eyes but he nodded at Harry's query for a confirmation.

"On Halloween," Hermione stressed, opening her brown eyes wider as though trying to make a point. Harry shrugged. Hermione blew out a frustrated breath.

Ignoring Hermione, Harry asked Ron, "Where's Ginny?" And on cue, Ginny came through the portrait with two of her bunkmates. She spotted Harry immediately and came over, grinning.

"Have you heard about the dance, Harry?" she asked.

"On Halloween," Hermione pointed out again, leaning forward a bit in her seat; Ginny nodded.

Hermione stood up, sighing. "Let's go find a spot a bit less crowded, shall we?" she asked, her voice falsely inviting. Ron shrugged, apparently not noticing and followed along after Hermione.

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks and followed their bushy-haired friend to a secluded corner. As soon as they were sitting, Hermione chanted a quick silencing spell around the four of them and then looked at her friends expectantly.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, wishing she hadn't put up that spell. He really didn't want to get into any more arguments with his father.

"Don't you think it's a bid odd to have a dance on Halloween?" Hermione demanded.

"Why?" Ron asked, looking just as confused as Harry felt. Hermione sighed again.

"We've never had one, have we?" she demanded. "Don't you see? Halloween," she said, beginning to sound like she had put an Echoing Charm on herself.

And Harry, all at once, got it. "Voldemort," he and Ginny breathed in chorus.

Hermione nodded. "Voldemort probably has something planned for that night and the Headmaster is trying to make sure all of us are in one place...to keep an eye on us."

"It'll be fifteen years from the day he killed my mum and James," Harry concluded unhappily. "And if he has something planned, then..."

There really was no point in finishing that sentence, especially as Ginny was gripping his hand, applying gentle pressure, but Harry barely felt it. His mind was spinning around all the nightmarish possibilities that might be waiting. The quartet sat in silence for a long time after that, effectively ending any need for Hermione's privacy spell.

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

Harry...

Harry Potter. It's been too long, Harry.

Voldemort!

Harry's mind screamed at him from his dreams. Even as he slept, Harry felt the almost instinctual urge to strengthen his shield and with a determined push, his Dementor Storm was as solid and course as he could make it. He felt the caressing persuasion of Voldemort's presence against his shield as the dark wizard sampled his open thoughts until with a roar of silent wind, Harry shoved back. There was a violent curse and Harry was alone again.

With a sickening tug, Harry shot up in his bed; he could feel his scar searing smartly for a brief second. Just as swiftly as the pain had come, it burned low again to a dull ache and then there was nothing. Reaching a clammy hand up to wipe it across his brow, Harry sagged against his headboard and tried to breathe deeply, willing his heart rate to settle.

He'd been dreaming, but that voice, that presence in his mind had definitely been Voldemort. Severus hadn't said anything about any sort of Death Eater meeting tonight, but with his heart hammering again, Harry realized that Voldemort could have called his father any time in the intervening hours since he'd seen him during their lesson.

Directing his thoughts to calm, Harry got quickly out of bed and went over to Ron's bed, lighting his wand tip as he went. His friend was snoring lightly; Harry shook his arm. Ron's eyes popped open, his eyes immediately clearing of any vestiges of sleep when he saw Harry. "Harry? You all right?" he demanded, pushing himself up, reaching automatically for his wand.

"Shh," Harry ordered, stilling Ron's movements. "My scar is acting up again...I'm going to see him." Him had taken on the role of code name for Harry's father.

Ron, still looking very concerned, asked Harry, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry shook his head. "I just wanted you to know so that you wouldn't panic later," he whispered. Ron nodded and Harry thumped him on the shoulder before turning to his trunk. Ron watched him as he pulled his cloak and his little box of Floo powder out. He even had enough presence of mind to pull on some socks. With a little wave to his friend, Harry wrapped the cloak around himself and went downstairs to the common room.

Harry used a spell his father had taught him to make sure no one else was in the room; it was empty. He stepped into the fireplace and threw down the powder, calling quietly for his father's rooms. Harry pulled the cloak off as he stepped into his father's sitting room and an instant later, before he could protest, Severus was grabbing him roughly around his upper arm, his wand pointing straight at him, demanding, "What is my shield?"

Completely unprepared for such an inhospitable reception, Harry asked stupidly, "What?"

"What form does my shield take?" Severus repeated harshly, shaking Harry a little.

Harry's heart was racing as he stammered, "F-Flames, sir," and his father brought his wand down abruptly.

And then his father was taking hold of his other arm and stuffing him unceremoniously into one of the chairs. Severus, still holding on tightly to Harry's arms, crouched down and demanded, "Are you all right?"

"I-I-Yes, sir...I'm all right, sir."

Severus, crouching, was a very strange sight.

His father held onto Harry's arms a moment longer as though to be sure Harry was telling the truth and then he dropped his hands and called quietly, "Accio, blanket."

A dark blue blanket flew from the direction of where Harry assumed Severus' bedroom was. His father put the blanket around him and only then did Harry notice that he was shivering; he didn't think it was from the cold.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, grateful for the warmth as he gripped the blanket closer to his chest, trying to still his shaking. "Can anybody just Floo in here?" he asked nervously.

His father shook his head. "No. The Floo is closed to all but a few of the other staff and you...your friends now as well. I simply overreacted. I apologize," he added stiffly. And then, changing his tone to one that was a bit firmer, Severus asked, "What happened?"

Harry swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in here."

His father shook his head, impatiently it seemed. "It is of no consequence. Tell me what happened," he ordered, his tone hardening even further.

"It's just my scar," Harry explained.

"Your scar?" his father echoed, his fingers straying toward the mark in question, but then they fell back against the arm of the chair. "Is it hurting you?" he asked quickly, the concern showing clearly in his dark eyes.

Harry shrugged. "Just twinging, really," he answered. He hesitated, worried about his father's reaction. "I was sleeping and it seemed like I was dreaming but I think maybe it was Voldemort. I could hear him, just a bit...but I could also feel him. I thought maybe there was a Death Eater meeting tonight," he finished, rather lamely he thought. It was obvious his father was fine.

Severus' lips pressed together and for a brief moment, Harry was sure his father was going to snap at him for letting his defenses down. "I had my shields up. He couldn't find anything," Harry assured him quickly. His father frowned.

"It is not your fault, Harry," Severus told him, patting his knee distractedly. Harry stared at the large hand on his knee. His father didn't move it as he continued, "It is to be expected."

Harry looked back up. "What do you mean?" he asked curiously. How could his father have expected this?

Severus stood up abruptly, staring down at Harry. As Harry lifted his neck to stare up at his father, he realized how very tall the man was. He didn't think he'd really noticed it recently.

"There is a Death Eater meeting planned for Halloween," Severus said eventually, sounding very reserved.

Harry nodded. "I thought so," he said. His father looked surprised. "That's why we're having a dance that night, right...to make sure everyone is together and safe?" Harry concluded and his father narrowed his eyes.

"Well deduced," Severus commended.

Harry shrugged again. "Well, it is rather strange, isn't it, to have a dance on a Thursday night?" Harry asked. "We've never had one on Halloween. It was the logical conclusion...and it was Hermione's anyway," he added with a small smile.

Severus sat very carefully in the chair across from Harry. "You've asked Ms. Weasley to accompany you to the dance?" his father inquired in a conversational tone; it didn't really match him, Harry decided and he thought it a strange transition from the topic of Death Eater meetings.

But he smiled anyway. "I didn't ask her formally but yeah, I will." They hadn't really had much time to discuss frivolities earlier.

"And have you something appropriate to wear?"

Harry's smile faltered; he stared at Severus. He sounded exactly like Mrs. Weasley.

"Erm, yeah, I guess." Harry nodded slowly, feeling oddly uncomfortable with his father's question.

Severus studied him. Harry squirmed under his gaze. "I was under the impression that those Muggles did not buy you clothes." Harry flushed. Severus leaned forward and Harry tried hard to sit very still. "Is that, in fact, the case?" his father asked.

"Er...well, I just had Dudley's old things," Harry told him with a shrug, attempting to keep the movement unconcerned.

"And the clothes you are wearing now...your robes?" his father pressed and Harry shrugged again.

"I always get a few things in Diagon Alley, usually with the Weasleys," he answered quickly, hoping to end this awkward conversation as soon as possible, but his father only nodded briefly and leaned forward even further.

"Harry," he said intently, his eyes slightly narrowed and his jaw firm, as though preparing himself for something terrible, "did they ever hurt you?"

If possible, Harry flushed deeper. When he didn't answer right away, Severus pulled himself straighter, his fists clenching quickly on his knees. Harry shook his head wildly, stammering, "No, they didn't...well, not really...I mean Dudley did and Uncle Vernon, well he threatened to and maybe when I little, once or twice, he whacked at me, but..." Harry trailed off, looking down at his hands, which were, just like his father's, firmed tightly into fists. "Look, I'm fine, all right?" Harry finally said gruffly, his eyes still down, not wanting to see his father's face.

"You are not fine, Harry," his father said quietly. Harry looked up, confusion written all over his features. Severus' eyes were haunted by now, and Harry was beginning to feel ill. And then, despite the look of utter pain in his eyes, Severus was leaning forward, his face again intense. "You realize, Harry, that none of what happened to you was your fault? That no child should be treated in such a manner?"

Harry nodded, not wanting to speak. His father considered him for a moment longer before saying crisply, "I believe it is past time that you had a more complete wardrobe." Harry stared at him. "I will see to it," his father said with a quick nod, almost to himself.

"But, I can't go anywhere," Harry protested lamely.

"We can order clothes, just as well as a taking a trip to Hogsmeade," his father informed him easily.

Harry shifted, uneasy with this entire topic, but his desire to end the conversation outweighed his wish to leave Severus out of any sort of discussion about his clothing. "Erm, all right I guess. I don't know how to access my vault from here though. I have my key," Harry told his father but Severus shook his head, his eyes glinting in quick amusement.

"I did not intend for you to pay for it, Harry."

Harry paled a bit. "Uh, no, that's all right, sir. I don't mind," he rushed out quickly.

And again, his father was studying him. "You may not realize this, Harry, but it is not common for children, especially wizarding children to buy anything as essential as clothing for themselves. I can buy anything you might need," he said seriously.

Harry felt his temper rising a bit, but modulated it quickly. "Of course I realize that," he answered, with only a shade of heat in his tone. "What did you expect me to do? Come to Hogwarts in Dudley's old rags?" he asked, more sarcastically than he was planning.

"No," his father answered calmly and Harry was unnerved by his apparent inability to rile the man up enough to snap at him for being rude. "You do have another option now though."

"James' money is perfectly fine," Harry said firmly, his tone much harder now as he began to feel his annoyance stoking his temper. "Or are you still feeling jealous over him?" Harry asked as he glared at his father, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.

Harry watched in satisfaction as Severus' jaw stiffened. And then his father's eyes narrowed slightly, though Harry didn't think he could detect any anger in the dark eyes, only determination, making Harry feel even more unsettled.

"I will assume you intended your question merely as an insult and are therefore not expecting a response," his father said evenly, not so much as a hint of anger in his voice, only quiet resolve and Harry had to look away, his insides prickling suddenly.

Harry stared at his knees, trying to still the strange feelings churning inside him ...remorse maybe...or more likely shame. He didn't even know what had made him want to say that. "Sorry," he said quietly, still not looking at his father as his insides distorted painfully with his regret.

Severus' voice was very soft when he spoke again. "James had no other family and he left that vault freely to you. I have no qualms now with his choice, nor did I then. None of us however, ever had any intention of your having to use it for living expenses, I assure you," he explained. When Harry couldn't do anything better than stare at his hands, his father said quietly, "I want to take care of you."

Harry looked up quickly, seeking his father's eyes and there it was, waiting for him, that warmth. "Thanks," he answered shakily and his father, looking satisfied, nodded.

"You should know as well," Severus said, his voice changing to a more business-like tone, "my own vault will be yours. Due to current circumstances, a change cannot be publicly acknowledged right now. I have however, secured a letter at Gringotts, one that cannot be opened until my will is activated. It states that everything I possess is to be passed on to you."

There was something off in his father's voice; Harry could hear it. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked, trying to keep the suspicion from his voice but as his father shifted slightly in his seat, Harry's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?" he asked. "This is about Halloween isn't it?" he demanded, his voice rising a bit in apprehension as Hermione's words came back to him.

--

Severus studied his son. "The Dark Lord is getting desperate to find you, Harry," he finally answered. Harry nodded jerkily. Severus almost sighed at the easy acceptance of his words. "He will be most displeased when you are not delivered to him." Severus was doing his best to speak slowly, with measured words, his voice utterly calm. It wasn't working; Harry's fingers flexed around the blanket.

"He'll torture you, then?" Harry asked stiffly.

"It will be unavoidable," Severus told him, wanting to close his eyes so he didn't have to see Lily's frantic worry echoed in their son's face.

"How bad will it be?" Harry asked bluntly.

Severus looked away. How could he answer that?

"Harry-" he tried to explain, but Harry smashed his fists into his knees, sitting up straighter.

"How bad?" he repeated. In response to Severus' silence, Harry's eyebrows shot into his fringe. "That's why you wanted me to know what to expect when your will is opened?" his son demanded hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet, throwing the blanket to the floor in an angry swipe that would have been more appropriate from a three year old. Harry glared at Severus.

Forcing himself to stay seated, so as not to further alarm him, Severus said calmly, "It is prudent for you to be aware of any stipulations."

Harry stared at him in open disbelief. "You're supposed to be a Slytherin?" he asked incredulously. "That's the worst half-truth I've ever heard!" he announced furiously.

Severus raised a brow and though he knew exactly what Harry meant, he asked anyway, "I beg your pardon?"

"You're sitting there, calm as you please, telling me to plan for your death!" Harry scathed, throwing his hands up into the air.

Severus shook his head. "I am doing no such thing," he denied placidly, but Harry was apparently past the ability to be so easily appeased. His son's face was absolutely rigid, his jaw clenched so forcefully that Severus was afraid the bones might crack.

"That's right, you're not," Harry snapped and Severus couldn't help the way his own eyebrows rose in surprise. "Because you're not going to die," Harry continued. When Severus opened his mouth to try to soothe Harry's obviously frayed nerves, his son insisted firmly, "You're not."

"Harry-"

"No," Harry commanded, trying to sound firm but failing as his voice wobbled. He pulled himself straighter and it was clear he was shielding his mind. "Promise me," Harry finally ordered fiercely, his green eyes a bit wild with panic.

Severus, keeping his movements carefully slow, stood up to face his son. Putting a hand on one of Harry's shoulders, he tried to reason with him. "Harry, you know I cannot promise that," he said, but Harry just shook himself away from Severus' grip.

"Just promise," he ordered stubbornly, folding his arm across his chest. "You're not going to die," he insisted.

Severus sighed. Harry was being perfectly irrational. But he was glaring at him and Severus recognized that it was not likely that his son would give in until the childish pledge was given and he did in fact have a point; a defeatist attitude would not be helpful to his situation.

"All right," Severus agreed, just hoping Harry understood that this might not be a promise he could keep. But as soon as he said it, Severus regretted it, for Harry's posture instantly relaxed.

"Good," his son said vehemently, nodding once, before letting his arms drop back to his sides. "Good," he affirmed again.

"Harry..."

"No," Harry refused, shaking his head. "You already said it," he informed Severus, his voice still trembling slightly and again, the Potions Master saw the frightened child in his son's stance and he couldn't help but nod. Severus couldn't deny Harry this measure of reassurance; he would simply have to make sure he kept his promise.

Harry was watching Severus very carefully, his eyes narrowed almost to slits, as though he was assessing his integrity. Hoping to further assuage his son's fears, Severus offered, "It is only a few more hours until you need to be up for classes. You may remain here if you wish."

Harry's eyes brightened a bit though he didn't lose the nervous expression. He nodded quickly. Then he stooped down and pulled the blanket from the floor, clutching it to him as he had James' cloak in the common room, the Lupin had been hurt.

--

Harry pulled his father's blanket to his chest, remembering with embarrassment that he'd thrown it to the floor like a child having a tantrum. He was acting like a bloody baby. "Do you have an extra pillow?" Harry asked tentatively, forcing his worry down. Severus pursed his lips.

"Come with me," his father said and though confused, Harry obeyed, turning to follow Severus as he went through the doorway and down a short corridor. They stopped when they reached two doors, across from one another.

"I can sleep on the couch," Harry protested immediately; there was no way he was going to kick his father out of his own bed. But Severus shook his head. He opened the door on the right, uttering a quick spell to brighten the room.

It was a small room with a bed, a little table, a chair and a bureau. There was a woven rug on the floor. On the table was his mum's photo album. Without thinking, Harry strode over to the book, letting the blanket fall from his fingers; it floated to the floor.

Harry picked the album up gently, running his fingers lightly over the binding, and then stopped to examine it more closely. He hadn't noticed the gold embossing before. Harry turned the book a bit to read the lettered script. Snape. Harry's eyes flicked sharply up to his father.

Severus' face was blank as he answered Harry's unspoken question. Legally of course, your mother was Lily Potter, but...she considered herself Lily Snape." The name was spoken so softly, Harry could hardly hear it.

Eyes down as he traced his finger along the letters, Harry asked casually, "And did she consider me..."

"Harry Snape, yes," his father affirmed, his black eyes glinting in the soft light and Harry studied the album cover carefully, the name etching itself in his mind, Harry Snape.

"She called you that often...most especially when you were getting into mischief." Harry's eyes flew up again and his father's mirth was unmistakable. "It was a habit of yours, even back then," his father informed him seriously and Harry grinned.

"You can't blame me anymore...they're your genes," he smirked.

"Mmm...Perhaps we switched a few more of James' genes with mine then we meant to," his father said mildly. Harry stared at his father. His stomach twinged again as he remembered his earlier jibe about James. Severus gestured toward the album, which without realizing, Harry had pulled into his chest. "It is yours. You will have to keep it here of course."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Severus nodded and then added with a strange little wave of his fingers, "You may sleep here."

Harry nodded again. Well, that was nice of his father to offer him the guest room though it did seem a bit odd that a Professor would have a quest room in his quarters.

"Do you have guests often?" he asked his father curiously.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I have never had a guest," his father answered. At Harry's look of confusion, his elaborated, "This used to be my office." Well that didn't make any more sense, Harry thought as he continued to stare at his father.

Severus made a small noise in his throat. "It is for you."

Harry's eyes widened. "For me?" he croaked.

Severus seemed to be shrugging though his shoulders didn't move at all. "After you slept here when Lupin was injured, I thought perhaps...you might like a more comfortable option...in the event that you might wish to sleep here again." Harry smiled at his father's nervous near-rambling.

"I'd like that," Harry said sincerely, his chest filling with warmth, "Thank you." He just managed to keep the sir off the end of that one.

Severus inclined his head. "My room is across the hall, should you need anything," he told Harry, his voice perfectly calm again.

Still clutching the photo album to his chest, Harry sat gingerly on the bed...his bed, bouncing lightly on it, testing out the firmness. His father was watching him in amusement. Harry grinned and shifted himself backward so that he was sitting in the middle of the bed, his ankles dangling off the edge.

"The photos will still be here when you wake up; there is no need to take them to bed with you," Severus told him, looking at the album pointedly, though his tone was light.

"Right," Harry said sheepishly, and placed the book carefully on the little table beside the bed.

His father bent down and picked up the forgotten blanket to hold it between his fingers. He gestured with his other hand toward the pillow. "Do you usually sleep sitting up?" his father inquired, with his familiar teasing cadence.

Harry blinked. Was his father going to tuck him in? Wanting both to protest that he was sixteen, for Merlin's sake, and actually ask his father to tuck him in, Harry said nothing. He pulled his socks off quickly and pushed himself fully onto the bed. He undid the coverings and pulled them over his lap, keeping his fingers curled around the bunch of the fabric.

His father was watching him. Severus looked pointedly at the pillow. Harry obediently straightened out on the bed, his head falling into the pillow. With a satisfied nod, his father sort of flung the blanket over Harry with a quick movement, though surely it wouldn't be cold enough for two blankets.

Severus held out a long-fingered hand. "Glasses," he directed and Harry slipped them from his face, folded them neatly and handed them over wordlessly. His father placed them carefully on top of Harry's album and then stepped back from the bed. Again the little nod. "Good night, Harry," he said, sounding somehow smug.

"Good night," Harry answered quickly.

With a quiet word, the lights were spelled down, almost completely, though Severus left a soft glow against the walls. Like a Muggle night-light Harry realized, with amazed humor as he watched his father turning swiftly from the room. Severus left the door open a crack, and Harry couldn't still the delighted smile that blossomed on his face.

Harry wasn't exactly sure, but it seemed that his father had tucked him in, or at least had engaged in some sort of bedtime ritual, and had been quite pleased with himself to boot. Harry looked around the small room, marveling at the thought that this was his. Then with a shudder, he remembered why he was in here at all tonight.

Halloween was too soon and Harry didn't want to think of his father with Voldemort, especially a vindictively sadistic Voldemort. But his father had promised; it would be just like all the other Death Eater Meetings. Unpleasant...but his father would be all right. He promised he would be. Harry nodded firmly to himself as he snuggled underneath the covers.