Lily's Charm

1996

"No!" Harry cried as Lucius killed his father again. He felt iron hands against his arms. He snarled, trying to twist out of Voldemort's grasp. "Leave me alone!" he shouted as he wrestled against the grip.

"Harry!" The arms shook him again, though the movement was gentler. "You're having a nightmare, Harry," Voldemort told him, his black eyes warming with concern. Harry blinked in confusion while Voldemort nodded encouragingly. "Wake up, Harry," he soothed and as the command was perfectly logical, Harry opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting up in his bed in his father's blurry quarters.

There was no sign of Voldemort.

"Are you all right?" his father asked, still holding firmly to Harry's arms. Harry nodded, giving his arms a little tug; Severus released him.

"It didn't work," Harry complained as he slumped against the headboard. His father shook his head though.

"You've been asleep for nearly five hours. The meditation exercise worked; you simply need more practice to get your through the entire night," he explained. Harry drew in a deep breath.

"Five hours is not too bad, I guess," he conceded. "So, we'll just try again tonight?"

"We will go through the exercise again now." When Harry started to protest, his father said firmly, "You need more sleep." Harry sighed and nodded resignedly. If he wasn't going to argue, there was nothing much to do but agree, no matter how much he did not want to go back to sleep. Five hours had seemed like an eternity already.

Harry thought his father was giving him a strange look, as though he was trying to figure out a complex Potions recipe, but as Harry didn't have his glasses on, he really couldn't be sure. "I'm ready," he said firmly, moving to lie down again, to distract his father from whatever he was thinking about.

Severus nodded briskly. "Turn your thoughts to Halloween," he instructed. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and let the horrible memory of his father being kicked to the dirt fill his mind. He shuddered.

"Now, your focal point," Severus commanded.

Ginny.

Harry let his mind fill with the memory of that first time he'd sat on his bed with Ginny...their first kiss. Harry smiled automatically, reveling in the memory, letting it overtake all his other thoughts, letting it push away the pain, until he could almost feel himself drifting closer to Ginny as she stood as sentinel against Voldemort's torture...

--

Severus relaxed as Harry smiled to himself, lost in his own thoughts. He stayed, quietly perched on his son's bed until the smile melted into relaxation and Harry's chest began to rise and fall in its familiar, comforting rhythm. Severus adjusted the blankets around his contented son and stood. He left Harry's room, though he left the door open as he crossed back to his own room.

Ignoring the call of sleep, Severus waved a wand to return the bedcovers to their original neat state and dressed for the day, ignoring as well the irony of what he'd just told his son. But sleep sounded even more unappealing than it obviously did to Harry. Severus left his room again, pausing in front of Harry's door to ensure he was still sleeping.

Severus was well aware that Ms. Weasley was his son's focal point and again, he felt a moment's gratitude toward the young lady. She had been able to reach Harry where he had soundly failed. Severus shook his head ruefully as he recalled his earlier inability to even respond to her request to be called by her given name. He'd given her a curt nod and repeated that it was time for her to leave. He hoped she wouldn't bring it up again.

Satisfied that Harry was keeping the nightmares at bay, Severus continued on to his lab. He set out ingredients deftly, paying little attention to what he was doing. The movements were so practiced, he didn't need to spare much thought for them. He was pleased the meditation techniques seemed to be working to help Harry move beyond his nightmares. He knew they would need to spend more time talking about the events of Halloween, but he was willing to wait a little longer before forcing the issue.

Poppy had agreed that he should allow Harry to take the initiative in any discussion they would need to have. She had also suggested, to Severus' immediate irritation, that it might be wise for he himself to talk with somebody about what had happened. Severus had dismissed her, of course. He had no need to discuss the events of Halloween. He'd been through torture before; there was little purpose in going over in detail how he felt about the events. He felt nothing; not about any of it.

Harry of course, as much as he would have wished to deny it, was much more delicate. His son felt things, in a way that was reminiscent of Lily...in a way that Severus never had. And he was perfectly content to help Harry through his difficulties; he was almost eager.

Severus doubted he'd ever be able to explain to Harry what he meant to him. How much it meant to him that Harry had come to find him. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his son. And, as he remembered Lily's plea to take care of their son, he knew he hadn't realized how much pleasure he would take in doing just that.

"Did you go ever go back to sleep?"

Severus looked up. Harry was standing in the doorway, still in his pyjamas, his feet bare, his black hair rumpled even more than usual; he was frowning. Severus wanted to smile at the look Harry was giving him; he looked like a cross between Poppy and Lily.

"No," Severus admitted and as expected, Harry crossed his arms across his chest, looking highly disgruntled.

"You're supposed to be recovering," he scolded.

"And so I am," Severus returned, forcing himself not so smirk at his son.

"I'm pretty sure you need sleep in order to recover," Harry remarked as his frown deepened.

"I slept long enough,' Severus told him, still amused by his son's concern.

"Five hours of sleep is not even enough for a healthy person," Harry insisted with a little too much edge and Severus realized that Harry was actually concerned that Severus' lack of sleep might prevent him from fully recovering.

"You're didn't have a nightmare as well, did you?" Harry asked suddenly as he dropped his hands back to his sides. Severus shook his head. "Did you do your exercise as well, then?" Harry questioned anxiously. Severus shook his head again, more slowly this time; he had not even thought about the possibility of nightmares. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You'll have to remember to do that tonight though," Harry said firmly. "You don't want to have nightmares about this," Harry informed him knowingly. Severus nodded in acceptance, though in reality he saw very little point in going through the same exercise he'd taught Harry to use. But if it would ease his son's mind...

"I will do the exercise tonight," he agreed and Harry smiled at him, some of his tension easing.

"Good," Harry said firmly, seemingly satisfied.

Severus shook his head in amusement, before asking seriously, "You were free from more nightmares, I trust?"

Harry nodded, moving forward to pick up the knife Severus had so carefully laid aside. "Coarsely chopped?" he asked, indicating the sacs filled with Granell Puss.

"Yes," Severus nodded. "Be sure to keep the puss on the tray; it's added at the same time as the sacs." Harry nodded, keeping his eyes concentrated on the task.

Severus, concerned by his son's reticence, asked, "Are you feeling unwell?" Harry glanced up from his chopping.

"I'm a bit nauseous still, I guess," he said with shrug, and then turned back to his task. With a frown, Severus went to his storage cupboard and chose another vial of Stomach Calming Draught; Harry was still chopping diligently. He looked up as Severus' shadow crossed his cutting surface. Severus gave the draught to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry accepted, and drank the contents of the vial in one smooth gulp. Before he could continue chopping the slippery sacs, Severus picked up the knife again.

"Just rest Harry," he advised. "I can take care of the potion."

Harry looked to be considering that suggestion and then he asked, "Can't Madame Pomfrey take care of whatever potions she needs for awhile?" The annoyance was plain as he waited for an answer. "Why is she making you do it?"

"This is not for Madame Pomfrey," Severus told his son. Harry huffed.

"Well, can't it wait then?"

Severus set his knife down again.

"It can, of course. Potion making simply helps me relax. I am not straining myself," he explained. And Severus was certain by the way Harry brought his hands to his sides again, his fingers flexing agitatedly, that his son would argue with him. But Harry simply sighed.

"Right," he inexplicably agreed. He watched Severus as he deftly chopped the sacs. "What are you making?" he wondered, leaning forward a bit to get a better look inside the bubbling cauldron.

"A potion to repress dreams," Severus answered distractedly as he added the chopped bits of Granell Puss Sacs into the cauldron at thirty-second intervals. Harry pulled back abruptly from the cauldron.

"Why didn't you tell me I could take a potion to get rid of my dreams?" he asked, though his voice wavered from demanding to hesitant.

Severus wondered over the odd way his son's tone seemed to waffle. "Because I prefer that you do not take it," he answered simply.

"Why?" Harry asked in astonishment, though his voice still sounded subdued. Severus narrowed his eyes, as he attempted to discover the reason for his son's unusual vocal responses.

Finding no viable reason, he simply answered Harry's question, "The Potion will repress your dreams, but you cannot take it for prolonged periods of time. It will never take away the nightmares; they will simply reappear when you discontinue the potion." When Harry didn't seem to accept that explanation, Severus added, "It will be more beneficial to you to talk through the things that are bothering you, while using the techniques I demonstrated. That is the only way you will heal." Harry frowned.

"I guess that makes sense, but then why are you making the potion at all if you don't want me to use it?"

"I said I prefer you do not use it, not that I would not allow you to. I wanted to wait to see if the meditation would help," Severus said with a hint of a smile. Harry smiled as well.

"Well, then, I'm glad I didn't disappoint you."

Severus looked up again from his stirring. Harry was twirling one of the stone pestles between his palms, paying a little too much attention to the bubbles breaking the surface of the gray potion.

"Harry..." Harry glanced up. "Nightmares are not a manifestation of weakness." Harry shrugged.

"I know."

Severus studied his son, who was gazing at him, his emerald eyes cloudy.

"I will not be disappointed if you need to take the Dream Suppressive," Severus clarified further, as Harry seemed disinclined to believe his first attempt at reassurance. "Having nightmares after what happened is perfectly normal, Harry." Harry began rolling the pestle again.

"You didn't," he said softly. Severus' hand stilled over the frog's intestines that he had just begun to mince.

"Harry," he began. When Harry continued to pay rapt attention to the rolling motion of the pestle, he commanded lightly, "Look at me." Harry stopped rolling the little instrument and looked up, his eyes stormy.

"I witnessed many unpleasant things while I was acting as a spy for Voldemort. I've had many years to grow accustomed to a certain level of unpleasantness." Harry looked skeptical, so Severus added as gently as he could, "It was not the first time I was tortured."

Harry flinched.

Severus laid a hand over his son's, which was still gripping tightly to the pestle. "I stopped having nightmares about it a long time ago."

--

Harry groaned. What sort of question was this?

"Harry?" his father questioned from across the table where he was stirring some potion or another a few days later. Harry threw his quill down on the table as his frustration overflowed.

"McGonagall's essay's impossible," he said in exasperation. "Who cares about comparing and contrasting the transmutative properties of dragon's blood and unicorn's blood?"

"Apparently Professor McGonagall," Severus answered dryly. Harry blew out a breath, making his fringe flip up from his forehead so that his scar was briefly visible.

"Of course she does," Harry said with a sigh. "She's the Transfiguration teacher." His father smirked at him.

"And you are a student in her class. I doubt Minerva assigns essays for her own benefit. Therefore, there must be something of value in your readings on this particular topic," his father told him logically; Harry made a face.

"Well if there is, I haven't found it yet," he muttered as he turned back to his essay. He didn't know why he was feeling so irritated, but he immediately felt guilty. He looked up again; his father was reengaged in his Potion. "Sorry," Harry offered quietly. Severus looked up in surprise.

"There is no need to apologize for not enjoying your assignments," he said, sounding puzzled. Before Harry could tell him that wasn't what he'd been apologizing for, Severus suggested, "Perhaps you should take a break. Your friends will be here shortly."

Harry nodded, being careful this time to set his quill down gently. There was no reason to lose his temper. He had, after all, made a promise to work harder in his classes, hadn't he? Complaining about an annoying essay wasn't exactly going to make that happen.

Besides he was looking forward to his friends' visit. Ginny had come back a couple of times over the past few days, but Harry hadn't quite found the nerve to ask his father to allow Ron and Hermione into his quarters. But as it turned out, he hadn't needed to. His father had suggested last night that as it was the weekend, he might like to invite his other friends for a visit. Harry, after only a short hesitation, had agreed.

Harry let his roll of parchment snap itself closed. "Thanks. For letting Ron and Hermione come over," he elaborated. "I mean I can't think it'll be exactly fun for you to have four teenagers here."

Severus cast a Stasis Charm over his potion and its ingredients before turning his black gaze to Harry. "Your friends are welcome in our home anytime, Harry," he said seriously. Harry blinked a few times as his stomach flipped.

Our home.

The words didn't really surprise him; he had figured his father felt that way, but still... Harry had never been included in that particular phrase before. It had always meant the Dursley's home, and later the Weasley's home. And now, he had a home of his own.

Knowing his father couldn't possibly understand what this meant to him, Harry only nodded. Severus lifted his lips in a small smile, his eyes warming a bit as he gazed at him, the expression making Harry wonder if perhaps his dad did understand more than he would have expected. A trilling sound interrupted Harry's musings on the subject.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Your friends are here," his father said simply, turning to leave the lab. Harry cocked his head.

"A doorbell?"

His father nodded as he continued toward the door in the sitting room. He beckoned Harry forward. When Harry reached his side, Severus took Harry's hand and wrapped it around the ornate handle, then brought his wand to Harry's fingers and chanted some Latin words Harry didn't understand.

"You can open the door now; it recognizes only the occupants of these quarters. We will need to do the same so that you may enter on your own as well." Harry nodded. Occupant, he mused as he pulled the door open. Lupin was standing behind Harry's friends, as though he had been ushering them through the dark dungeon corridors. Harry grinned.

"Come in," he invited, bringing the door open further. Ginny and Hermione needed no further prodding as they stepped through, each hugging Harry in turn. Remus, shaking his head, gave Ron a little push to get him over the threshold. Ron was smiling nervously. Harry smirked at him and then gestured with his head for Remus to come in. Remus smiled at him and entered as well.

Harry took Remus' cloak, enjoying the feeling of having guests, while Severus stood back a few paces.

"Good afternoon," Severus greeted solemnly.

"Good afternoon, Professor," the girls chorused while Ron sort of mumbled a, "Hello, sir." Harry bit back a laugh as he hung Remus' brown robes on the peg near the door.

"Good afternoon, Severus. How are you?" Remus asked congenially.

Severus, his face very still, answered politely, "I am well." Remus nodded. Severus turned to Harry's friends. "Would you like to be seated?" his father inquired, sounding very unlike Hogwarts' infamous Potions Master.

Ginny, used to Severus by now, smiled and sat comfortably on the sofa. She looked at Ron and Hermione expectantly until they both sat on the sofa as well.

"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked eagerly as Harry sat in one of the armchairs; Severus and Remus remained standing.

"I'm all right," Harry assured her.

"Are you eating better yet?" she asked, her voice sounding very like Pomfrey's. Harry shrugged, though he supposed he was getting his appetite back, bit by bit. At least he didn't need to use his father's Stomach Calming Draught anymore.

Hermione frowned at him in disapproval. "You need to eat, Harry," she scolded. "You won't ever be able to come back to class if you don't start eating again. She didn't even take a breath as she continued, "Do you have any idea what it will do to your grades if you're out of class for much longer?"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted, "let him alone." He shook his head at Harry. "She's been having a right fit about how much class you've missed. You'd think it was her grades that'll be suffering," he confided with a smirk. Ginny swatted her brother on the arm.

"His grades will be just fine. His dad's helping him catch up. He'll be back to school on Tuesday, right Harry?" she asked, turning to Harry. He nodded, and it did the trick. Hermione fairly sparkled.

"Oh! Well that's wonderful, Harry," she gushed. She clapped her hands together. "You'll be able catch right up with Professor Snape helping you." She sighed. "I wish my parents were professors here." Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes, but Harry was simply smiling at his bushy-haired friend; he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her. And Ron.

Harry glanced up at his father; he was watching them, a satisfied look on his face. At Harry's look, his face went still again and he said smoothly, "I will be in the lab, should you need anything." Harry nodded.

"Thanks for letting us visit," Ginny piped up. Severus inclined his head.

Before he turned to go, Remus spoke softly, "Do you have a moment, Severus?" After a pause, Severus nodded.

"I do," he answered, his voice still held tight. Remus smiled, looking amused. He turned to follow the other man into his lab. Once they were both inside, the door closed with a resounding thud, and Harry's heart echoed the sound.

He didn't realize he was staring at the closed the door, until Ron asked, "You all right, mate?" Harry shook himself. He forced a small smile to his lips.

"Yeah..."

Ginny smiled at him and he did his best to return it. Everything was just fine, he told himself firmly, willing himself to believe the refrain. "How is everything upstairs?" he finally asked, hoping his tone was as light as he was intending it to be. Hermione leaned forward conspiratorially, glancing quickly at the lab door, which was still firmly closed.

"Harry, it's as though the whole school's gone mad," she whispered. "And it's not just the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Everyone is furious." Harry furrowed his brows. What could anyone have to be furious about?

"Why?" he wondered. Hermione shook her head.

"I don't suppose your father's let you see the Prophet?" she asked. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I saw Skeeter's article, saying my dad's dead and my mum-" he started to say, but Ron was shaking his head.

"That wasn't the only one, mate," he confided, adopting Hermione's whisper. "And she's not the only one writing either. There have been new articles every day--wild stories--saying how you were the one who gave up the secret. Or that it was you who turned your dad in, because you wanted him to suffer for abandoning you...all sorts of rubbish," he said with a furious scowl. Hermione was nodding.

"Rita Skeeter even claimed yesterday that you were considering joining Voldemort, just to spite your father."

Harry shot up abruptly from his chair. "But--that's mad!" he nearly shouted. The lab door flew open. His father and Remus came out; Severus was scowling at Harry's friends.

"Is there a problem?" he asked darkly, piercing the three Gryffindors with a glare. Hermione shook her head anxiously.

"No, sir," she blurted. Severus glared for a second longer, causing Hermione to shrink back against the cushions, before he turned swiftly to Harry.

"Harry?" he asked, his tone softening instinctively. Harry continued to stare at his friends as his storm raged with blackened anger. Why the bloody hell hadn't his father told him about this? How did he expect Harry to be able to counter all the gossip if he didn't even know what people would be saying?

"Harry?" his father repeated, and Harry had to force himself not to flinch away in fury from the sudden hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a second. There was no reason to be angry, he told himself. It must be a misunderstanding; his father had to a have a reason, but Harry could find none. Thinking of Ginny, Harry let his storm quiet. He wasn't going to get mad. He wasn't.

When he was feeling calmer, he opened his eyes. His father was closer now, peering at him. Harry tried a smile; it came out more like a grimace but it would have to do. "I'm all right," he said quietly. "They were just telling me about some of the gossip going around," he explained; there was no need to bring up Rita Skeeter's lies.

His father studied him with narrowed eyes. Then he turned abruptly back to Harry's friends. "Do not upset him again," he said in a low voice. Ron and Hermione nodded immediately but Ginny was staring at Harry intently, a quizzical look on her face. Harry turned away from her gaze. There was a moment of silence and after another bit of pressure from his father's hand, the two men returned to the lab; the door remained open.

Harry's knees were beginning to feel unsteady so he let himself plop into the chair.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fine," Harry snapped, scowling deeply. Did he have to go through this every bloody year, with half the school thinking he'd lost his mind? Ron gave Hermione an incredulous look.

"Of course he's not all right, 'Mione. Snape almost bit our heads right off," he scoffed. Hermione made an impatient noise.

"Yes, our heads...not Harry's," Hermione huffed. "Harry?" she persisted. Harry shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. He just needed to forget his anger.

"I'm fine," he told her with false cheer. "How's Quidditch practice?" The change of subject brought a frown to Ron's face.

"Terrible," he lamented. "Katie's mad!" he told Harry. "She's been making us practice every night...well most of us anyway," he said with a scowl toward Ginny. Ginny just smiled.

"Ronald, Ginny was helping Harry get better," Hermione chided her boyfriend who continued to frown at his sister. Harry smiled, this one much more genuine as he listened to his friends' innocent bickering.

--

"Are you ready?" his father asked as he stepped into Harry's room. Harry nodded, though really, he wasn't ready at all. He smoothed his palms over his robes nervously.

"Maybe we should just wait until afternoon classes begin," he suggested hopefully. After all, how much trouble could he get in with his father five feet away? And that way, he'd be certain his father was all right. Severus frowned.

"If at any time, you need me, do not hesitate to come see me. Even if I am in class," he added firmmly. Harry nodded, though he didn't think he'd need to come rushing into the Potions classroom in the few hours until his own class with his father started, he decided with resolve. Although, he admitted with a fair bit of silent chagrin, it was getting harder and harder to distinguish himself from a Hufflepuff.

"I'll be okay," he said, more for his own benefit than his father's, but Severus nodded immediately.

"You will," he agreed. "Do not forget," he added, "that you are to be with at least two other students at all times. Even with the expulsion of the students who were threatening you, it would be unwise to let your guard down." Harry nodded. They had gone over this many times in the past few days.

His father eyed him for a moment longer before adding the other oft-repeated refrain, "You will need to work much harder than usual at maintaining control of your temper." Harry grinned, as he was convinced his father was reminding himself of the same thing. As he'd said as much yesterday, his father gave him a small, rueful smile. "As will I."

"You know, it's nice to finally know where I got my temper from." Harry smirked. His father raised an eyebrow.

"Do you intend to blame me for all of your disagreeable habits?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Yep," he said seriously. Severus shook his head, his eyes glinting in amusement as he spun around to lead the way out of their quarters.

They walked through the corridors in companionable silence until they reached the Great Hall. In a sudden burst of panic, Harry grabbed his father's sleeve. Severus halted, turning to face Harry. Before Harry could even speak, his father reminded him quietly, "You may come see me anytime you wish." Harry swallowed his rising anxiety back. "I will be fine," his father assured him and Harry nodded. Of course nothing was going to happen to his father while he was teaching class. Of course...

Severus patted the hand that was still hanging on nervously to his sleeve. Harry took a deep breath, gave his father a watery sort of smile and dropped his hand. He nodded once, and again, his father and he were walking side by side, as they entered the Great Hall.

Harry was certain that every eye was on him and his father. Ignoring the gawking, Severus put his hand between Harry's shoulder blades and nudged him forward. Harry, letting his mind calm, moved with his father's command toward the Gryffindor table. When they reached the end, Harry stood uncertainly, not knowing exactly what to do. Not surprisingly, his father solved that problem.

He turned slightly so that he was facing Harry, squeezed his shoulder and said calmly, "I will see you in class." So normal. And Harry relaxed.

"All right, Dad," he answered automatically, and he could almost feel the silence. Severus looked like he was trying very hard not to smile; he spun around, his robes gathering around him majestically as he glided up to his seat at the Head Table. Every eye followed him. Harry smiled and without waiting for his dad to sit first, he plopped onto his bench. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione turned to him immediately, all of their faces plastered with grins.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ron enthused before he began shoveling food into his mouth. But among the gathered students throughout the four House tables, Ron's declaration was not unanimous. Even the Gryffindors at his own table seemed undivided over the issue. While most of the older students welcomed Harry back as enthusiastically as ever, the first and second years seemed to be eyeing him with a fair amount of fear. Harry sighed. It seemed this would be much harder than he had suspected.

"How are you, Harry?" Neville asked, as he leaned around Seamus. Harry smiled at his friend, grateful that Neville at least seemed unconcerned by the new circumstances.

"Much better, thanks," he told the other boy. Neville nodded, while Seamus frowned, tilting his head a bit as he studied Harry.

"Are you actually getting on with Snape, then?" he asked, his voice full of criticism. Harry tensed a bit as the students in hearing range seemed to all turn at once, waiting silently for Harry's answer.

Before he could answer, Ginny scowled at the sixth year. "Of course he is, Seamus. What sort of question is that?" Seamus pursed his lips.

"The sort that everyone's been wondering on for weeks now," he retorted. Ginny bristled.

"Well then, everyone should learn to mind their own business," she snapped.

Seamus glared at Ginny for a moment longer but Ginny didn't back down and finally Seamus turned back to his breakfast, muttering, "I was just wondering," into his pumpkin juice. Ginny smirked. Neville, next to Seamus was smiling a little too.

"I'm glad Snape's all right, Harry. We were awfully worried for both of you," he offered kindly, and Harry felt a glow of appreciation for the boy's friendship.

"Thanks, Neville," he said seriously. Neville smiled again and began nibbling his toast once more.

Half-expecting Dean to share at least some of Seamus' animosity, Harry was surprised when he leaned forward from across the table to say, "Glad you're back, Harry. Are you coming back to the Tower tonight?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

Dean frowned sympathetically. "Pomfrey's a bit fussy, isn't she?"

Harry nodded, grateful that he didn't have to explain that even if Pomfrey had cleared him to go back to the Tower, he still had absolutely no desire to go. Harry wondered then, how much longer it would be until his father suggested it himself. With that thought, Harry glanced up at the Head Table.

Severus was watching him. Harry smiled at the way his father was glancing pointedly at Harry's plate. Harry nodded; his father raised his thin eyebrow as though to ask, "Well?" Harry chuckled, before turning to his breakfast. Though the food held almost no interest to Harry, he ate it obediently, not quite finishing what he chose from the platters. It would do though.

He glanced once more up at the Head Table. Severus was just standing from his chair. He caught Harry's gaze and the warmth in his father's eyes was enough to allow the rest of his worry to fade to the back of his mind. He turned back to his friends. Ron was still stuffing bangers, two at a time, into his mouth while Ginny and Hermione gawked at him. And for once, even Harry found himself disgusted by Ron.

"All right, Ron," Hermione finally said wearily, "are you finished?" Ron nodded, as he added two more spicy bangers to the collection in his mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up her school bag. "Come on, Harry. You don't want to be late to your first class back."

"Yeah, 'arry...'oomph 'ee 'ate, 'ooo you?" Harry made a face as bits of Ron's breakfast spewed toward Hermione. Hermione, with a long-suffering sigh, tugged on Ron's hand until he was standing.

Harry paused only long enough to kiss Ginny on the cheek and then with a wave, he and Neville followed Ron and Hermione toward McGonagall's classroom. Ron and Hermione said very little as they seemed to be much too interested in each other, but Neville filled the silence, asking Harry dozens of questions about everything that had happened in the past two weeks.

Harry answered all his questions, finding none of them offensive since Neville really did seem to be genuinely happy for him. He even glared at a few people who stopped to whisper as they walked through the corridors. They reached the classroom with a few minutes to spare, and Neville gave Harry a cheery wave as he continued on down the corridor to his own class.

Ron sat next to Harry, and Harry appreciated his friend's support, as he probably would have preferred to sit next to Hermione. Hermione smiled back at both of them as she sat down next to one of her bunkmates. Harry's appreciation didn't last long though as the group of Hufflepuffs across the aisle was shooting glances in Harry's direction and whispering in voices that were actually much too loud to be considered whispers.

"...it doesn't make sense. He wouldn't want to live with Snape if he wanted to kill him..."

"...maybe Harry's the spy for You Know Who now..."

"...yeah...as if we wouldn't possibly suspect that...Harry's always been a bit off..."

"...well, than he goes well with Snape...can you believe Harry's actually related to him?"

"...I can, yeah...don't you remember..."

"Harry, don't let it bother you," Ron interrupted Harry's listening. Harry sighed. "People love any sort of good gossip...it'll all blow over, just like all the other times," his friend assured him. Harry nodded, knowing Ron was right, but it didn't make it any easier to wait it out.

"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Ms. Abbot, do you have something you'd like to share with the rest of us for fifty points each?"

McGonagall's sharp voice silenced the two gossipers immediately. They both shook their heads fervently and Harry wondered just how many points McGonagall had taken in the past weeks. "Then, get your books out," she commanded sternly. Justin and Hannah scrambled to obey while McGongall spelled the day's lesson onto the blackboard. Harry almost groaned as he read the heading:Transmutative Properties and the Blood of Magical Creatures. Even with his father's help, Harry still had no interest in the subject. He did his best to pay attention though, somehow making it through the entire lesson without making any glaring mistakes.

He sighed when McGonagall finally dismissed the class. He walked back to the Great Hall with his friends, wishing he could veer off toward the dungeons; Ginny was waiting for them in the same spot they'd sat in at breakfast. Harry didn't even realize he'd been staring at the Head Table until he felt a ridiculous wave of relief when his father entered through the Professors' entrance with Remus.

With a sudden burst of amusement, Harry realized that those two had been spending a lot of time together lately. He realized they were probably plotting one of Dumbledore's schemes, but his father seemed almost as though he might not mind Remus' company and the idea definitely made Harry feel warm through. He caught his father's eye; his father inclined his head in acknowledgment. Harry waved to Remus. Remus smiled fondly at him. Feeling much better, Harry was able to eat most of lunch.

When he'd finished, he waited lazily for his friends to finish, enjoying the conversation around him. Ginny and Ron were catching Harry up on Katie's latest antics as his temporary replacement as Captain. Harry enjoyed listening to them, but he couldn't decide if he missed playing Quidditch or not. He hadn't really thought much about it much lately.

Their break ended much too soon, with Hermione announcing that it was time to make their way to Potions class. Harry, feeling a mixture of dread and relief, got up slowly, adjusting his bag meticulously. Ginny walked with them this time.

"Maybe Hermione can partner with Malfoy," she suggested helpfully when Harry admitted he had no idea how the Slytherin would react to him. He didn't even know how much Malfoy knew about what had happened. He had wanted to ask his father a dozen different times but Harry's desire to avoid the entire topic of Halloween was much more important than learning about the Malfoys.

"I already tried that," Harry told Ginny. "No luck," he added with a shrug. He could handle Malfoy, he supposed. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to the blonde boy being a complete berk.

Harry said goodbye to Ginny in front of her classroom and then he, Ron, and Hermione continued on to the dungeons. The darkened, slightly musty passages were comforting. He was even smiling by the time they reached the Potions classroom. That ended as soon as he walked through the door. Every student turned around, whether Gryffindor or Slytherin...all except Malfoy. All Harry could see of that particular Slytherin was the back of his silvery-blonde head.

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm comfortingly before she and Ron took their seats. And Harry cursed silently, wondering why his seat had to be at the front of the room. He walked as quickly as he could without tripping over his own hurried footsteps. He slid into his seat. Malfoy continued staring straight ahead.

Figuring this would be a day that Malfoy wouldn't be inclined to share, Harry took out his ingredients, setting them out as neatly as he could; for some reason he didn't feel like annoying the Slytherin. But, as he quickly found out, he needn't have bothered; Malfoy was already annoyed. With everybody, it seemed.

The classroom door swept open and Harry decided that he and Malfoy were the only ones who didn't turn around to watch the Potions Master's entrance, considering the way they'd reacted to Harry. His father didn't seem to notice anything out of order however. He swept down the aisle as he always had, coming gracefully to a spinning stop in front of his desk.

"Professors Sprout and McGonagall inform me that your performance over the last two weeks has been less than exemplary. I will remind you only once that this is N.E.W.T. level Potions and anyone who cannot demonstrate at least basic competency with today's potion will me to discuss your removal from this class." There were many sharp intakes of breath at Severus' pronouncement, and even Harry began to feel a bit nervous at the declaration.

As though there had been no response, Severus continued, "We will be brewing a Blood Thinning Potion. It is a complicated recipe; the main ingredient is delicate and must be handled properly. If you have prepared adequately, you should not have any problems." Turning his gaze to Parkinson, he demanded, "What is the main ingredient, Ms. Parkinson?"

Parkinson answered swiftly, "Dragon's Blood." Severus nodded curtly.

"Five points to Slytherin." He turned next to Seamus.

"How long do the ingredients need to brew after adding the Dragon's Blood, Finnegan?"

Seamus frowned.

"Twenty minutes?" he guessed. Severus scowled

"No. Five points from Gryffindor, and I suggest you actually read the directions before brewing," he sneered before turning his gaze to Harry. Harry tensed with the remembered stress of so many Potions classes.

"Harry, how long does the potion need to brew?" his father asked, his tone changing slightly, though it was hard to tell if anyone else would notice, and Harry was more than a little startled to hear his father call him 'Harry' in class, but he answered without any difficulty as he and his father had gone over the assigned reading in great detail yesterday. "After you add half the Dragon's Blood, it needs to simmer for 15 minutes and after the rest is added, 30 minutes." His father nodded.

"Correct. Five points to Gryffindor," he approved. Then he addressed the rest of the class with an abrupt, "Begin." Harry couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. He had just earned points in Potions Class!

In his excitement, he forgot to be wary of Malfoy, and asked cheerfully, "Do you want me to light the cauldron?" Malfoy whipped his head around, his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted into a vicious frown.

"What the hell are you so happy about, Potter?" he demanded in a fierce whisper. "Did Severus not get beaten soundly enough for you?" he snarled. Harry pulled back from the cauldron he'd been about to light, surprised in spite of himself.

"I-" he began but Malfoy leaned in closer, his pale face only centimeters from Harry's face.

"If you say one word to anybody about my father, one word, Potter, and you'll regret it. And believe me, Potter, I will finish what I start."

The threat stretched on Malfoy's shallow breaths until a deep voice interrupted, "Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy's jaw clenched as he jerked away from Harry.

"No, sir. No problem at all," Malfoy bit out sarcastically as he glared up at Severus.

"Then I will expect you to put your energies into brewing your potion, instead of snarling at my son." Malfoy was shaking with fury as he nodded sharply. Severus narrowed his eyes before turning away from them, though Harry noticed his father didn't stay away from their table for more than a few minutes.

Draco didn't help at all as Harry began adding ingredients to the cauldron, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Harry began brewing on his own, though he couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy's words. He wasn't even sure what the other boy had meant.

Did he not want Harry to tell anyone that Lucius had saved his father? Of course that made sense; as far as Harry knew, Lucius was still playing his part as a Death Eater, and he knew as well that Lucius had suffered for not killing Severus. That would certainly explain Malfoy's explosive anger.

Realizing he probably shouldn't, Harry leaned in a little toward Malfoy. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened on Halloween," he whispered as he poured a vial of Sticky Sap into the cauldron. Malfoy turned sharply to Harry.

"You're sorry?" he echoed in disbelief, his voice having lost some of its anger, though he was still whispering. "You're sorry my father didn't kill Severus?" he asked incredulously.

"What?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Potter?" Malfoy demanded, as he grabbed a pestle from the table to begin crushing the Basilisk Scales, apparently forgetting that he was too mad to help with the potion. "I thought you'd be glad that someone actually wanted you. Though..." he mused thoughtfully as he pounded the Scales, "...I can't see why Severus didn't just let You Know Who have you."

Harry narrowed his eyes, half in irritation at Malfoy, but also in concentration as he tried to figure out what Malfoy hadn't wanted Harry to say about Lucius. "I didn't mean sorry about that," Harry explained, surprised as his voice came out without any anger. "I just meant about your father being hurt...by Voldemort, I mean." Draco stopped pounding.

"You're sorry that my father was punished by You Know Who?" he whispered, his eyes widening in silver-toned shock. "He tried to kill Severus, and you're sorry he didn't..." He shook his head in disbelief. Harry stared at the Slytherin. Malfoy didn't know Lucius had activated the Portkey! Malfoy was shaking his head in wonderment. "Either you really do still hate Severus just as much as you always have or you have way too much Gryffindor honor for your own good," he marveled.

"I don't hate my father," Harry snapped, finally feeling his annoyance at Malfoy's callousness creeping up. Malfoy snorted as he started pounding again.

"Well, then you are too Gryffindor, I guess," he concluded with a smirk. Harry shrugged.

"Guess so," he agreed. To his way of thinking, there was no such thing as being too Gryffindor. Malfoy continued pounding in silence for a few more minutes before stopping abruptly. When he didn't add the Scales to the Potion, Harry looked up from slitting the throat of a small fish. Malfoy was staring at him, his light eyes eerily appraising.

"What?" Harry demanded, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling at Malfoys' look. Malfoy pursed his lips.

"I suppose you're too Gryffindor to give my father and I away, then." Malfoy sounded resigned and reluctant at the same time, as though he was almost wishing he could have followed through on his earlier threat. Harry shrugged again.

"I won't say anything," he told the Slytherin boy and after a pause, Malfoy nodded curtly before turning back to the finely powdered Dragon Scales and pouring them elegantly into the cauldron. He and Harry didn't speak for the rest of class, and Harry was glad; he turned their conversation over and over, trying to decide whether or not to ask his father why Draco didn't know what had really happened. But again, the desire to keep the events of Halloween tightly lidded won out over his curiosity.

And by the time his father dismissed the class, after giving Malfoy and Harry full points for their Potion, Harry was having a very difficult time stilling his agitation, though he wasn't exactly sure what he was so agitated about. Ron and Hermione came up to Harry's table while he was cramming his Potions book into his bag.

"Do you want to come with us to the library?" Hermione asked. Harry glanced up at his father, who was arranging vials on his desk.

"I was just going to go back to our quarters," he told them as he adjusted his bag over his shoulders. His father looked up.

"I need to do some work in the classroom until dinner," he said, his mouth turned down in a frown, obviously still annoyed about how things had gone in his absence.

"I can just do my work in here," Harry offered, feeling more at ease now that he wasn't thinking unwillingly about Halloween. His father stopped adjusting the vials.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, would you wait outside for a moment?" Ron and Hermione nodded and left quickly. Severus came around his desk to stand in front of Harry. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice more relaxed now that Harry's friends had gone.

"Yeah, I just thought you'd like some company," Harry answered.

"I would enjoy your company, of course. You will likely have a more enjoyable time with your friends however," Severus said lightly. Harry smiled.

"You're not so bad."

His father raised an eyebrow. "I believe your classmates would disagree."

"Yeah, you were a bit frightening today. Better to start off that way though, so we don't get any funny ideas," Harry told him with a knowing nod. His father's lip curled.

"Have you ever considered a Professor-ship, Harry? You understand the adolescent mind well."

"Well, that might be because I am an adolescent," Harry informed him, still grinning. Severus nodded.

"And as an adolescent, you should spend as much time as you possibly can with your friends," he said pointedly. Harry sighed gustily, pretending that he was giving in. He was feeling much better again and really, spending time in the library sounded like a good idea.

"All right, I'll go," he agreed, "but don't overdo it in here, all right?" He made his voice as stern as possible. His father pursed his lips in sour agreement.

"Go to the library, Harry," he ordered and Harry, still smiling, did just that.

--

After two hours in the library, Hermione had informed Harry that he was likely developing something called Split Personality Disorder in the Muggle World. And after she'd explained what it meant, Harry was almost tempted to agree. He couldn't stop alternating between irritation and feeling at ease. Thinking of Halloween, no matter how hard he tried not to, inevitably caused him to snap at whoever was talking to him. Even though he tried to explain some of what he was feeling, it didn't make him feel any better. Whatever his problem was, it continued on through dinner, and it was harder than ever not to snap at his father that evening, though he didn't think his father was doing anything particularly irritating.

The next day was no better. It only got worse in Flitwick's class as they were supposed to be practicing some interesting charms, but somehow Harry spent most of the lesson listening to Zabini and Parkinson engaged in a staged argument about why their Head of House had rejected Harry as a baby. When Zabini declared that it must have been because he was ashamed of Harry's Mudblood mother, Neville, who was sitting next to Harry, had to put a firm hand over Harry's twitching wand arm.

Harry had little success calming his anger and after class ended, he retreated with Neville and Ron. They had waited for Hermione for a few minutes while she talked to Flitwick, but she had finally told them to go; she was settling herself in for a lengthy chat. Harry was eager to get to lunch and be done with the Slytherins for the day.

Ignoring Neville and Ron as they hurried to keep up with him, Harry gave up trying to calm down as he stalked through the corridors. As they approached the Great Hall, he glared in barely restrained anger as he saw Zabini leaning against the wall with three other Slytherins, one of them a seventh year.

"How is it in the dungeons with daddy?" Zabini called. Harry gritted his teeth and continued down the corridor, though he could feel Ron tensing behind him; Harry picked up the pace.

"He's so desperate for someone, he doesn't even care that his own father didn't even claim him for fifteen years...can't really blame him for that though, can you?" sneered the fifth year Slytherin with brown hair. Harry kept walking.

"We should have known they were related though," one of the seventh years, Pinth, put in, "Potter's as big a coward as his father." Harry halted. The seventh year smirked. "Yeah, Potter, I heard he actually cried while they were beating him, couldn't even take it like a man...whimpering they say...actually begging for mercy."

Before he had time to realize just how stupid the action was, Harry had his wand pointed at the tall Slytherin. Harry felt Neville and Ron copying his movements. The Slytherin pulled himself out of his slouch, whipping his wand out as well.

"Just shut up."

Pinth smiled.

"Why, Potter? Does it bother you that daddy is a filthy traitor who can't take what's deserved?"

"Shut the hell up," Ron hissed, his wand inching closer to Pinth's face. Pinth narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, it's the blood traitor again," he drawled in a bored tone. "I suppose the way you surround yourself with Mudbloods and blood traitors, Potter, it shouldn't be any surprise that daddy would enjoy fucking your Mudblood mother...no matter how much the little bitch pleaded with him to stop-"

The rest of the slurs were cut off as Harry lunged at the boy with a snarl, forgetting all about his wand as his fist slammed into the Slytherin's smirking face. Harry felt the blood as it spurted over his fist, but he paid no attention. The anger that had been held in for too long, poured out in raw fury over the unsuspecting Slytherin's face. Harry's was acting purely out of rage, having no coherent thoughts as his fists pummeled whatever was within reach. The rapid blows aimed at his own face, barely registered.

"Harry!"

A sharp voice broke into the roaring between Harry's ears, but Harry didn't have a chance to answer as he was jerked backward, away from Pinth. Harry, his anger not drained, made a sharp move back toward the Slytherin, but whoever held him was apparently not inclined to let Harry continue the fight, so Harry had to settle for glaring at the other boy as he continued to struggle uselessly against the fierce hold. Pinth was glaring right back, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the Slytherin's rapidly swelling face.

Harry wondered fleetingly if he looked anything like that, when he was turned sharply around, making his breakfast roll. He tried to focus on the face leaning in towards his, but he couldn't quite make it out, even though he was almost certain he was still wearing his glasses. He heard vague voices, saying something to do with the Hospital Wing, but they were getting more distant as Harry tried to figure out what they were saying and he wanted to tell whoever was shaking him that he was about to sick up. But, it was getting darker and without warning, he felt himself pitching forward toward whoever was holding him...right before the darkness closed in on him.