Lily's Charm: The Gift

Author's Notes: I decided to go ahead and break the story into two stories, as the focus is going to shift a bit. This is the sequel. The first two chapters were originally part of the original, Lily's Charm. I hope you won't be too confused. And I hope you'll enjoy this one as much as the original. Thanks.

1977

Severus did his best not to smile as Lily twirled in a happy arc, her arms flung wide in what would be their sitting room. "It's perfect, Sev," she told him as she finally came to a graceful stop in front of him; her emerald eyes were sparkled with excitement.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice lilting with amusement. Lily smiled sheepishly at him.

"It's only the eighth plot we've looked at," she said with a shrug as she looked around the empty plot in the small wizarding village.

"Tenth," he corrected automatically. She made a face at him, placing her hands on her slim hips.

"You're supposed to tell me I can take all the time I need. My wish is your command," she said with one scarlet eyebrow raised in indignation. Severus stepped toward her.

"You may take all the time you need," he echoed, though his voice was perfectly serious. As far as he was concerned, Lily could change her mind for the rest of her life, as long as she was content in doing it. Lily narrowed her eyes in appraisal.

"And?" she queried archly. Her lips were twitching, though Severus knew she was doing her best to frown at him.

Keeping his face solemn, Severus caught both of her wrists, wrapping his long fingers around them as he deftly pulled them and her toward his chest. "And your wish is my command," he repeated obediently, smiling to himself at the Muggle phrase.

Fairytales, she called them--where the couples lived happily ever after. He had given her a skeptical look at that. She'd laughed and assured him all princesses lived this way and in the privacy of his mind, Severus had vowed to himself to give Lily the same pleasant fate as her storybook heroines. There was no one who deserved to be happy more than she.

"Do you realize, Sev," she was saying breathlessly as she gazed up at him, her palms resting on his chest now, "we're going to raise a family here? Godric's Hollow." She announced the name of the village with gusto. Her cheeks were flushed with twin spots of pink. Severus smiled at her excitement, caressing her flushed skin with the back of his hand. It warmed further beneath his touch.

"It is perfect," he told her, not taking his gaze from her. And it was.

Their home.

--

1996

"Voldemort did this?"

Severus slid his dark eyes toward his son; the heat in the words was vaguely troubling. Harry was staring at the scarred shell that had once been their home. "The Death Eaters came after Voldemort disappeared."

Harry's jaw seemed to be vacillating between anger and sadness as it clenched and slackened repeatedly. "Why would they do this?" he finally managed to ask, settling on sadness.

"It was a game to them," Severus said simply and watched with grief as his son shook his head in bewilderment. After everything that Harry had seen in his sixteen years, still his soul remained so unspotted that he couldn't fathom someone hurting others for fun.

"Why do you keep it?" Harry asked, turning a bit to look at Severus.

"It is unlikely that anyone would wish to live where Voldemort committed two murders," Severus told him, his voice dark. Harry swallowed and turned back to the house. They were silent as the sun warmed the sky gold. "And the property is in your mother's name," Severus added quietly as he followed his son's gaze to the house where they had been so happy. "In your name now," he amended.

"Well, you could just vanish all of this away, couldn't you?" Harry's voice floated back to him. "It's...well...it's creepy," he said with a grimace as Severus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"It is," Severus acknowledged which earned him a small smile from his son. They were quiet, the warbling of birds the only sounds breaking the peace of the early morning.

"I wanted to see mum," Harry said, finally breaking the silence; he was still staring straight ahead. Severus put a hand on his son's shoulder and Harry closed the space between them so that they were shoulder to shoulder and for the first time, Severus was startled by just how tall his son was. It should have been no surprise as he and Lily had done nothing to tamper with the genes affecting Harry's height, as both he and James were tall--they had in fact been almost the same height. Severus pushed the dull pang away as he thought of his friend, guarding the way with Lily.

"When you-" Harry swallowed roughly as he tried to continue.

"Nothing blocked my way on Halloween," Severus supplied, cutting off the rest of the question. Harry nodded, apparently not needing to ask how Severus had known what he had been thinking and Severus wouldn't have been able to answer him in any event. He just knew.

"Mum and James," Harry went on, still talking to the empty space in front of them, "do you think they knew what was happening and that maybe they could tell I wasn't supposed to die yet?"

Severus had already considered the question and was more than a little unnerved to discover that he had no better ideas about what had happened right after he had prevented Voldemort from making a permanent claim on his son. He didn't even understand all of what had happened to him when he'd been with Lily after Halloween. His time with Lily seemed more like a vivid dream now than reality; his time with Voldemort--a nightmare. So he answered the only way he could, "I am uncertain why Lily and James would forbid you entrance."

Harry didn't respond as he stared; the house seemed to be mesmerizing him, gathering up all his attention. And somehow, that fact bothered Severus much more than it seemed it should. "But they did," Harry stressed, the muscles tense around his jaw once more. Severus simply waited, wary of where Harry's mind was taking him. His son had a strange habit of jumping to places where Severus' own thoughts would never venture. Harry turned abruptly to him. "And if nobody stopped you, it was your time and I brought you back and that means that at anytime-"

"Harry," Severus halted his son's ramble with practiced ease. Harry's lips pressed together, the skin taut with his stress. The lips stayed smashed together even as Severus brought a hand to his shoulder. "It means no such thing," he disagreed, shaking his head just a little. "It is impossible to have a complete understanding of what happened, but I will not believe that I am fated to die," he finished firmly.

"Voldemort was fated to die." The words came from between Harry's pinched lips. Severus would have smiled if it had been any other time, in any other place.

"Voldemort created his own fate. Sybil's was a circular prophecy," he explained when Harry simply stared at him in confusion. "By coming here fifteen years ago, he created a Horcrux, making it inevitable that you would one day need to defeat him if you were to ever be without that piece of his soul and if he was to collect the piece he lost."

Harry squinted at him, looking as though he was attempting to pull some answers from his father's brain, as he tried to make sense of all that had happened. "You don't believe in the Prophecy then?" he asked, tilting his head as he studied Severus. Severus shook his head without hesitation.

"Not in the sense most do, no," he answered definitively. "It was simply a self-fulfilling declaration made by a person believed by both Albus and Voldemort to be a seer."

Harry considered the words, nodding slowly as he sorted through the difference. "It wasn't true, I guess," he finally concluded, but Severus shook his head in quick disagreement.

"Sybil's words were not literal," he reminded his son. Severus watched Harry hunch his shoulders against the slight wintry breeze that was beginning to drift over the little village. "Put your cap on," Severus directed and Harry obediently pulled his woolen cap from a cloak pocket and tugged it down over his ears. He raised his dark eyebrows so that they were hidden beneath the fabric.

"Can we go to the cemetery now?" he asked, turning from the decimation with a sort of finality and though Severus had no desire to gaze at the place that made him feel so empty, it hurt to leave. He nodded, keeping his emotions at bay. Harry didn't need to see his pain.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself as though to ward off what remained of the night's chill as they made the short walk toward the graveyard. "Are you cold?" Severus asked with concern, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as he spoke. Harry shrugged, but then his eyes darted over to Severus and he was smiling a little.

"I don't need your cloak," he said, making a face and Severus was pierced with an unexpected grief. The wrinkles in Harry's nose ironed out as he took in his father's suddenly serious face. "What's wrong?" he asked, pausing as they had reached the gate.

"You look like your mother when you do that," Severus answered, stopping as well. A slow sparkle lit his son's eyes as his fingers curved around the top of the still-closed gate.

"Really?"

Severus allowed himself to remember Lily in that moment as he took in Harry's eager question. His lip curled so that he was almost smiling--at both the memory and at his son. He simply nodded and Harry grinned, his face fairly shining.

"Do you wish to go in?" Severus inquired with amusement when Harry's hand stayed fixed on the top of the gate. Harry blinked and nodded quickly. He pushed the gate inward. It creaked in what Harry would likely have found to be an eerie manner if they hadn't been bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun and Severus decided it was fortunate that they had come now, when there would be no shadows to entice them.

Severus had only been to Lily's final resting place once. Six weeks after she was murdered. The day Albus had finally pulled him out of his solitude.

The snow had crunched with his heavy steps, each footfall resounding like a gunshot in his ears. There were no tears as he'd stood here; there had been too much anger--too much hatred toward James for Severus allow his grief free range. That was the first day he could remember not being able to find his love for Lily; there were too many other emotions. The love had been buried so deeply that day, he hadn't found it again for years.

"Dad?"

Severus looked up, feeling dazed; he had lost himself in the memories. Harry was staring at him, his emerald eyes filled with anxiety. They were standing in front of the graves of the only two people, besides Harry, that Severus had ever loved. He didn't answer his son's query; the emotions had clogged his throat.

His heart directing him, he simply took Harry's hand in his as he dropped to his knees. The unyielding cold of the frozen ground seeped through the heavy fabric. And then Harry was beside him and they were staring together, sharing their grief. Severus thanked the two who had given him the precious gift beside him. Lily had given him her love and even more than that, she had presented him with a son and against all odds--against all that Severus had done to ensure that he did not deserve him--James had given Harry back to him.

Harry's hand in his was steady, imparting his strength. "Thanks," he whispered though he was facing the stones in front of them and it touched something deep in Severus that his son was thanking Lily and James for him. Just as fervently as he had thanked them for Harry. They stayed on their knees in silence until Harry finally shivered beside him. Even with the sun, the morning air remained bitter.

Severus stood easily and tugged Harry back to his feet. Harry sniffled as he stood; Severus squeezed his hand once before letting him go. He rested the same hand briefly on the stone which immortalized his wife before turning to Harry. Harry was watching him, a sad smile on his lips.

"Thanks for bringing me here," he said in a hushed voice and Severus was almost amused by the display of graveyard reverence. "It probably wasn't very easy," Harry acknowledged a touch uneasily.

Severus shook his head though. "I have not been here for almost fifteen years," he admitted, feeling a slight shame at the admission.

"They'd be glad you came now," Harry offered with a shrug, the kindness coming so naturally to him, that it was almost painful to Severus. So like his mother...

"It was more cathartic than I would have guessed," Severus divulged quietly, feeling the need to speak...to fill the silence. Harry smiled at him again, as he brushed his fringe aside from where it was trapped under his cap. He patted Severus' arm, a gesture which both amused and comforted the Potions Master.

"It's peaceful here," Harry commented as they stood together and Severus knew he was referring to the little village. It was indeed peaceful. Lily had chosen it specifically for its size and quiet location. Very unlike the busy, crowded Muggle town she had grown up in.

"Your mother loved it here," he told his son. Harry grinned, the little tidbits about Lily seeming to energize him. They stood together, both of their gazes directed toward the village square only a short distance away. The village was still quiet, the residents not awake yet. The tranquility eased Severus' heart, instead of haunting him. There were so many happy memories in this place. With Lily. And with Harry and James, in later years...

The calm and peace of the morning was shattered as the jarring pops of a dozen bodies Apparating in, filled the frosty air. Before Severus even registered that he had done it, Harry was barricaded behind him, tucked securely against his back. Severus' wand extended outward as he turned to face their attackers. He was greeted by the flash of cameras and the wide grins of reporters. Severus reined in his scowl as much as he could and removed his hand from his son's back, pulling his wand back reluctantly and sliding it back in his sleeve. How the hell had they found them here? Harry stepped around him, his green eyes wide and, if possible, he was scowling as deeply as Severus.

A little, beady-eyed wizard was the first to speak, his voice high and warbling, "Would Lily Evans and her husband welcome you here, Professor? After all-"

"My wife, and James Potter," Severus interrupted smoothly when he felt Harry tensing beside him, "would certainly object to the disrespect being shown to them by you and your colleagues."

The beady-eyed wizard stepped back, fidgeting as he moved. Unfortunately, his fellows were not nearly as cowardly. "We have a right to get the story," a dark-haired witch spoke up, her head bobbing up and down as though it was on some sort of ridiculous Muggle spring.

Without waiting for a response from Severus, she rounded on Harry. She thrust a newspaper in his face, waving it about. Severus snatched the offending papers from her, with a low warning snarl. She ignored him to ask Harry, "How did it feel to see You Know Who's body, blackened and shriveled, Harry? It must have given you a great deal of satisfaction. After all he's done to torture you."

Harry was staring at her and Severus' eyes fell on the newspaper's front page. Harry Potter Triumphant as You Know Who's Body is Cursed Beyond Recognition, was the caption beneath a large photo of Harry standing triumphant over Voldemort's mangled body; the corpse was twisted and black. At least that much had gone as planned.

"What the hell?" Harry breathed from beside him. Severus, cursing Scrimgeour, and possibly Albus, flung the paper down on the frozen ground; the pages rustled in the breeze. "I wasn't even there," Harry objected.

"You're claiming you didn't kill You Know Who?" A hawk-faced wizard demanded in a deep voice, his cameraman clicking steadily away behind him. Harry glowered at him.

"That's not what I meant," he bit out, his posture straightening in indignant denial.

"But that headline's wrong anyway, isn't it, Harry?" came a high, girlish voice that renewed Severus' initial urge to strangle its owner.

Rita Skeeter came through the crowd of reporters, her blond curls bouncing merrily. She waggled her fingers toward the newspaper as its pages flipped lazily against the ground. "You're Harry Snape now, aren't you dear?" she asked rhetorically, her voice cloying against Severus' intolerant ears and there were gasps all around them. Skeeter shook her head sadly, so that her earrings jangled in an irritating cacophony. "And after what he did to your mother, Harry...'

"Hey!" Harry interrupted angrily, his hands fisting in fury against his sides. He stepped fully in front of Severus, his arms splayed out protectively. "That's a lie. My father didn't do anything to my mum!" he fairly shouted. Harry, she's trying to make you angry. Severus directed the quiet reminder to his son's storm and Harry nodded jerkily but he didn't stop glaring. Severus' gaze swept over the collected group of reporters.

"If you wish to speak to my son," he began threateningly, leveling his worst glower at Skeeter, who simply smiled, "you will make an appointment." The witches and wizards were looking mightily disgruntled at this decree. "Harry is not on display. He will not be gawked at and if I find any one of you invading our privacy again, you will most certainly regret it," he added, keeping his voice devoid of any emotion, allowing the gleam in his eye to speak for him. Most of the reporters swallowed nervously and backed up several paces.

Skeeter stepped forward once more.

"It will not be so easy to acquit yourself of this accusation, Professor," she told him, showing her lipsticked teeth and Harry began his objection anew. Skeeter spoke right over him, "After all, Mrs. Potter, as you well know, is not here to tell us just what you-"

Severus, his anger rising rapidly to a point it wouldn't descend from easily, pulled Harry against him and turned on the spot. They reappeared just outside the boundary of Highlands Cottage with Harry gasping in a huge draught of air as he seemed to lose his footing. Severus held on to him until Harry dragged in another gulp of air and pushed against his father's arms. Severus released him. Harry turned around, his face still penetrated with a frown.

"Will you stop doing that, without even warning me?" he snapped, his unfinished anger finding a new target. "I wasn't done," Harry continued, his jaw working furiously.

"I did not think it wise to remain when tempers were so high," Severus told him, which made Harry's face line even further.

"I wasn't about to lose control-" he retorted, but there was the slightest quiver in his son's posture which said otherwise.

"I was however," Severus interrupted calmly. Harry's mouth closed in mid-outburst. He stared at Severus for a minute before deflating a little, his shoulders sagging enough that his chin almost touched his chest, but he didn't lose eye contact.

"Oh," he said quietly, his green eyes blinking slowly. He sighed as he brought his fingers to rub across the back of his neck. "Sorry," he offered with a bit of a grimace and Severus recognized it was an apology for snapping at him. Severus nodded, accepting his son's quick remorse. His temper was much faster in its downward spiral than his own, much like Lily's, though Lily's had always been a much quieter temper.

"We should have left as soon as they arrived. It was foolish to allow them to speak." Severus shook his head in frustration. Harry raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised at the admittance. "It is not the first mistake you have heard me admit to," Severus told him pointedly and Harry smiled slowly. It was short-lived. A frown took its place almost immediately.

"What is wrong with her?" Harry asked quietly. "Isn't she tired of that by now?"

"She will continue to bandy the accusation about until it ceases to get a reaction from her audience."

"You should have hexed her foul mouth closed," Harry told him, curling his upper lip in a strangely familiar sneer. Severus shook his head.

"Unfortunately, one does not require the ability to speak in order to write an article in the Daily Prophet."

Harry scowled, turning away and studying the cottage in the distance. "I hate this." The whispered vehemence startled Severus. "He's dead and still, he can't leave us alone." Harry whipped around; the sharp sweep would have made any other man flinch. Severus remained still as Harry's face screwed into an indignant scowl. "And now I'll have to relive this over and over, not only in nightmares, but with Scrimgeour and the press and everyone in my classes!"

Harry flung himself around again, his arms crossing in fits over his chest, likely having no idea that he looked for all the world like a four year old having a tantrum. Severus however, had no urge to smile at the image. "It is not ideal," he offered only to have Harry turn around once more, his voice suddenly bitter when he spoke again.

"Ideal," he scoffed as his arms came down to his sides once more; there was a hint of defeat in the gesture. "I've never known anything about ideal. I don't think I could even wish for it."

Severus' brows lowered in concern at Harry's odd attitude. He had not expected Harry's ease to be so short-lived. "Harry," he began seriously, "you have the right to expect the same now from your life as any one of your peers." When Harry didn't respond, his eyes still dark, Severus promised him, "You do not have to do anything that you do not wish to do."

--

"I know," Harry answered, bowing his head a little and pressing the tips of his fingers a bit more firmly than was necessary into his eyes. He wasn't completely clear on just what had made him so angry in the cemetery. Well, the slurs against his parents had been at least part of the problem...

"Harry."

His father's voice knocked against the wall Harry was building in his mind. He didn't want to let it in just now. But there were rough fingers, gently resting against the sides of his chin and Harry finally looked up reluctantly. Severus was looking at him, his dark eyes filled with concern and Harry had to stifle the desire to tell his father he was fine. But he wasn't fine. And he was too tired to argue that he was. Severus lifted his chin even more, studying him carefully. "I would like you to allow Madame Pomfrey to examine you once more before breakfast," he decided. Harry, having no energy to argue, simply shrugged. His father's black eyes sparked with suspicion. "You have no objection?"

"You already told me I'd have to see her when we returned," Harry pointed out. His father narrowed his eyes.

"You are not simply attempting to disallow friction between us?" he demanded. Harry rolled his eyes, jiggling his chin against his father's hold at the ridiculousness of the question.

"No, I haven't made any absurd promises about never arguing with you again," he parroted back. Severus smirked as he relinquished his hold on his son's chin. He tapped Harry's jaw twice with three fingers.

"As much as it may be my undoing to admit, I do believe I prefer you this way," he remarked and Harry grinned at him.

"What way? Insolent?" he asked, as though he hadn't a clue what his dad was talking about. Severus' eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"It is preferable to the melancholy."

Harry sighed.

He hadn't meant to slide into whatever it was that he had been feeling for most of the morning. He knew though that his father wasn't complaining about his attitude, only that he was concerned. Harry licked his lips, dry now from the chill in the air.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he admitted, keeping his father's gaze; he was comforted by the black depths.

"Voldemort attempted to rip you apart, Harry," Severus told him quietly, moving his large hand to rest on his shoulder. "I do not wish to frighten you," he continued hesitantly and Harry would have bristled if it had been anyone else making such a slight against his Gryffindor courage, but he only nodded once, letting his father know he could continue. "Did you realize how desperate he was?" Severus asked. Harry's neck prickled with gooseflesh; his body didn't seem to care that his heavy cloak and cap should have been keeping him warm enough.

"He wanted me to go with him. I could feel him calling me," he said so quietly, the words were almost lost against his throat. His father's warm hand gripped his shoulder. "It felt easy to go with him...to let him take me..."

And again, Harry felt the drowning, suffocating sensation he had felt at the Riddle House.

"Harry?"

His father's deep baritone was cutting into him and he shook himself away from the darkness. He blinked rapidly and found his father's face again.

"What happened?" Severus questioned, his voice vibrating with worry. Harry tried to smile, but it faltered just shy of success.

"I'm all right," he tried to reassure his father. Severus frowned deeply at him.

"You are not all right," he retorted, sounding almost angry that Harry would suggest such a thing; Harry frowned at his tone. "What happened?" Severus demanded again. Harry shook his head, frowning even more. What the hell was his dad so tetchy about?

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, sounding grouchier than he meant to. "It felt like it did at Riddle Manor."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked, his tone changing to a quieter one. "You were remembering visions there," he reminded him. Harry shook his head.

"But it was more than that," he tried to explain. "It was like I was being covered by darkness...by Voldemort's evil," he whispered, wishing he didn't have to sound like such a child. But of course his father didn't seem to mind. He firmed his grip on Harry's shoulder and smiled sadly.

"You and Voldemort shared a connection and it seems he was using that somehow."

Harry glanced over toward the cottage; it seemed so lonely.

"So then you think Dumbledore was right then? He was manipulating the piece of his soul?"

"It would seem so," Severus nodded; the movement was stilted as though he wished it hadn't been true. Harry drew in a breath; the air was cold against his lungs. He released it again but it wasn't quite cold enough for his breath to be visible.

"It was supposed to end it," he said to the air.

"The memory of what occurred, and of the way you felt, will not simply disappear because Voldemort is dead," his father told him.

"I know," Harry answered. He glanced over at his father, who was watching him carefully as though he was afraid he was going to go into hysterics at any moment; his eyes were very dark. "How can you stand to think about what it was like...with Voldemort?" He shivered at the memory of the glacier, overshadowing both of them.

Severus' eyes sharpened and he decided, "We should return to Hogwarts. Allow Madame Pomfrey to see you." He turned to go back to the Cottage but Harry, not knowing why it was so important, grabbed his father's sleeve. Severus turned back around, his features lined with worry.

"You didn't answer me," Harry said, his eyebrows raised in expectation. "How can it not be affecting you?" he pressed, when his dad didn't answer.

"It is affecting me, Harry," Severus told him. His lips were barely moving as he allowed, "I feel now the way I always felt after a Death Eater Meeting." He closed his eyes. "Worse," he added softly.

Harry swallowed as he took that in. "As though you've been tainted?" he asked with his eyes closed, hoping his father would deny it.

"Yes."

"If you hadn't been there..." Harry started to explain, but he shook his head as the thoughts tumbled around. "...I would have wanted to go with him." As soon as he said it, he wished that he hadn't.

"Evil is seductive," Severus agreed softly; Harry's eyes flew open. "I have never been as repulsed and as enticed as I have during the times I stood in Voldemort's presence. It is the way of all those who capture such evil in their hearts," he explained and Harry's throat felt dry. Too parched to swallow properly. "There is nothing wrong with you, Harry," his father assured him, his voice deep and low.

"I-I" But Harry couldn't form the correct words, so he just stared at his father. The black eyes were warm with understanding.

"You thought Voldemort had warped you...made you evil," he extrapolated and Harry nodded wordlessly. His father smiled a little. "Do you think me evil?" he asked.

"You defeated a Dark wizard," Harry reminded him in way of denial. His father grasped his shoulders. He didn't shake him, but the grip was firm.

"We defeated him, Harry," he corrected, his voice almost hoarse with his conviction. "I did not do it alone. I could not have done it without you. Do you understand me, Harry? You defeated Voldemort, just as much as I did. There is no Darkness in you."

Harry's eyes were glistening as he listened to his father's impassioned speech. He didn't think he'd ever felt so much emotion from the man before. And Harry nodded, resisting the urge to wipe his watery nose on his sleeve like a little kid. He had known it of course. Voldemort hadn't really tainted him, but he had felt too stained by what had happened and he knew that he was only imagining the heaviness that seemed to echo throughout Riddle Manor. But it felt so real...

His father produced a handkerchief, stilling Harry's need to scrub at his eyes and nose with his sleeves. "It's just-" Harry tried to explain, but he didn't know what to say as he rubbed at his eyes with the square of fabric. How was he supposed to explain that he felt saturated with darkness? He almost felt like he was drowning. Severus' grip tightened against his shoulders.

"You need time to separate yourself from these experiences, Harry, before you can begin to feel normal again," he said quietly, his voice still a bit rough. Harry closed his eyes.

"Did you ever feel normal after you stopped spying...the first time?" he asked, not certain what would compel him to ask.

"No."

Harry opened his eyes at the whispered word, and Harry instantly regretted the question, but his father caught the look in Harry's eyes and slowly shook his head.

"I did, however, begin to feel normal after the second time."

Harry blinked. He wanted to smile at the affection in his father's voice, but he couldn't. Confusion and anger were churning themselves in his gut. "Thanks," he settled for murmuring, hoping it would allow them to finish this discussion. He didn't think he could stand to think about Voldemort--and especially not Halloween--for much longer. Severus squeezed his shoulder once more before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Your friends will be arriving soon," he said. Harry nodded, feeling like his wish had come very easily.

"Can we wait to see Madame Pomfrey until they leave?" he asked, balling his father's handkerchief in his fingers. He twirled into around with his thumb and forefinger while he waited for an answer, hoping he looked just forlorn enough for his father to give in. He congratulated himself silently when his father nodded reluctantly.

"Right after they leave and not a moment later," he stated firmly.

Harry nodded obediently, feeling suddenly drained by their eventful impromptu excursion. Seeming to sense his swift change in energy, his father took his elbow and turned him toward the cottage. It wasn't lost on Harry that his father's strides were much shorter than they usually were as they crossed the large field to the house.

They flooed to their quarters and since his father was holding on to his elbow, Harry stepped onto the hearth rug without incident. He flipped off his heavy cloak and cap, but before Harry could even move toward the sofa, his father ordered him to sit at the table. Harry did as he was told, too tired to argue, and within a minute, a hot plate of breakfast was staring back at him. Surprised by how hungry he was, Harry dug into the meal with relish, forgetting all about Voldemort while he ate. Even with two helpings of everything, Harry was finished sooner than his father.

Harry watched in sudden and unexpected amusement as Severus cut up his egg in six neat, even slices. He slid each section onto his fork and then chewed it with meticulous movements. He stopped mid section-spearing though as he noticed Harry's smirking concentration.

"Instead of gaping at me as though you have never seen me eat before, perhaps you might like to shower and change before your friends arrive," he suggested with a raised eyebrow. Harry rolled his eyes at his overly verbose father and scooted back from the table and out of his chair.

"You need to take a shower as well," he pointed out ungraciously as he turned toward his bedroom.

"I showered while you were sleeping."

Harry stopped in mid-stride. He turned around quickly, a frown set firmly on his lips, his amusement replaced ridiculously fast by irritation. "You didn't sleep?" he demanded, not realizing how sharply the question was delivered until his father raised his both his eyebrows this time, but he didn't back down from the question. Why did his father always have to act as though he was invincible?

"I was occupied," Severus informed him in something of an imperious tone.

"With what?" Harry asked incredulously. "Voldemort's dead. You can't possibly have anything to plot," he said with far more grit than he meant. Severus frowned at him.

"I was not plotting," he corrected coolly. Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

"Madame Pomfrey told you to sleep as well," he reminded his father, who had the nerve to finish his egg without responding. "Well?" Harry demanded when it become obvious his father wasn't going to answer him. "What were you doing then?"

His father eyed him, before standing up from his chair; the breakfast things vanished. "I was brewing," Severus finally answered, his eyes roaming somewhere over Harry's head. Harry stared at him.

"You were brewing?" he repeated. His father nodded as though it was the most logical middle-of-the-night activity, though he still wasn't making eye contact. "You were supposed to be sleeping and instead you were making a potion?" Harry's voice was trilling higher against his will. "You needed sleep just as much as I did," he bit out, in an attempt to still the squeaking of his vocal chords. Severus' eyes found his again; they were particular inky.

"I do not appreciate your tone," he said, his own tone and face relaxed more than they should have been and though Harry recognized the slight strain underlying the words, he ignored it in favor of saying exactly what was on his mind.

"You're not invincible, you know," he snapped. "This isn't the first time Pomfrey's told you to rest and you've completely ignored her."

Severus narrowed his eyes, the first outward sign of his displeasure. "I am perfectly capable of regulating my own sleep, Harry."

"No you aren't," Harry retorted; Severus' black eyes narrowed even more.

"I will not argue with you about my personal decisions," he said, his voice perfectly even again. "I realize you are still feeling ill at ease-"

"That has nothing to do this!" Harry finally burst out, his fingers curling against the back of his empty chair. "You said you were just as affected by what happened as I was. I'm exhausted as hell and yet you didn't even try to sleep!" he cried angrily. His father's jaw tensed only the slightest bit.

"Your friends will be here soon. You need to get ready," was all he said, moving his lips only the barest amount and when Harry didn't move, Severus leaned toward him a little. "Now, Harry," he ordered, his voice deceptively soft this time. Harry glared for only a second longer before spinning away and stomping toward his room.