This is not my beautiful house

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/35763466.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Underage
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Character: Harry Potter Characters, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Smart Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione
Granger, Rescued from the dursleys, Mpreg, Saving People Thing,
Banks do not offer health or legal services, But they go to Gringotts
anyway, Severus has a BAMF owl, Hedwig is also awesome
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Letting the Days Go By
Stats: Published: 2021-12-17 Completed: 2022-01-15 Chapters: 16/16 Words:
63307

This is not my beautiful house

by Klari

Summary

Continuation from Part 1, This is not my beautiful wife. If you haven’t read that, this won’t
make much sense. Severus and Harry deal with their summer separation, the Dursleys’
treatment of Harry, and some startling news.

Notes

Please note the tags. There will be triggers. If MPreg bothers you, please do not read this—
it’s a major element of the story from this point on. The violence against Harry is
mentioned but not “on screen” so to speak, but I’ll warn you if something is going to come
up even obliquely.
 1 July 1996

Severus had not felt so helpless in years. Even standing before the Dark Lord, he knew he had
options, but this. He and Harry had said their goodbyes on the Astronomy Tower that morning, but
now, he had been forced to watch his young lover board a train and leave him behind, heading
back to a house in which he would be abused. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he would be
hurt— it was a certainty, and Severus had watched his young lover pull up a mask of indifference,
straighten his spine, and walk calmly toward the damn train. He felt his teeth grind together, but
kept his mouth closed. He would not make this worse for Harry.

He hadn’t wanted to let Harry out of his sight, much less sent back to the gods damned Dursleys.
They didn’t understand or appreciate the treasure they had the keeping of, something he had no
intention of forgiving. Ever. The fact that he also had not understood or appreciated Harry’s true
worth until approximately a week previous was neither here nor there. They hurt Harry, and he had
to let him walk back into their clutches.

That morning, his lips thinned and his nostrils flared as he watched from the staff table as Harry
had carefully wrapped several sandwiches and placed preservation charms on the napkins before
shrinking them to hide in his pockets. The boy was hoarding food. Severus had put a stop to the
slow starvation Harry endured as preparation for the return to the Dursleys’ home, but it seemed he
couldn’t prevent this. Severus bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling at Dumbledore, yet again,
at this obvious sign of child abuse. Severus had always believed that Dumbledore wanted to keep
Harry alive, and so he tolerated the signs of a less-than-healthy living situation in order to maintain
Harry’s continued existence. That fantasy had been blown to bits.

He now understood why the boy had shown up in his first year looking scrawny and skittish, but
the knowledge didn’t bring the same satisfaction as solving other puzzles surrounding the Boy
Who Lived. He grimaced at his own failure. He had watched the child closer than anyone, save
only perhaps Dumbledore, and he had made excuses and overlooked the obvious lack of care. He
wanted to punch something. He glanced at Dumbledore consideringly for a moment, a swift
indulgence into violent fantasy that he swept from his mind as soon as it appeared. Such thoughts
were not safe.

The rest of his day had been spent with paperwork, primarily in marking the end of term exams for
the younger years. The OWL and NEWT exams would, naturally, be handled by the Wizarding
Examinations Authority, but he would have to answer for the other students’ performance in
potions. It meant long hours at his desk, hunched over the piles of parchment, and a steadily
diminishing supply of red ink.

The next week or two would be spent at the castle, depending on the whims of its headmaster. He
would be kept busy brewing, lesson planning, and working on the paperwork for next term. He did
not look forward to it, but even less did he envy Minerva’s task. Dumbledore did as little work as
he could, and managed to pass most of his tasks onto his deputy’s shoulders. Minerva had all the
same jobs as he, being a head of house and a professor, but she also had the responsibility of
picking up the slack for the headmaster. Severus shook his head. He had no idea why she tolerated
it.

He had tried to get Harry to talk to him about his head of house, but Harry refused, saying only that
she was not a bad woman, but that she couldn’t be trusted. From what little Severus remembered
and had been told, Harry had gone to her a few times for help, only to be turned away. Severus had
a feeling she had failed him a few times as a head of house. He knew that she would regret that, if
given the chance, as Harry said, she wasn’t a bad woman, just overworked and misguided. He bore
her his own grudge over his teenage years. She had either been nearly criminally permissive or
recklessly oblivious over the damn Marauders and their exploits. Favoritism was one thing— he
was likewise guilty of harboring a secret preference for some students over others— but she had
allowed herself to become blind to their faults, allowing all manner of harassment under the guise
of pranks.

As the day wore on, he knew that the Hogwarts Express would be pulling into Kings’ Cross soon,
and he began to feel anxious about Harry’s reception back with the muggles. He hoped that the
Order of the Phoenix hadn’t done anything foolish, but knowing the imbeciles involved, he
suspected it was a vain hope. They were a well-meaning but foolish group, and likely to get Harry
into further trouble with his relatives. If they confronted Petunia or her brute of a husband, it would
be Harry who bore the brunt of their anger. Confronting an abuser never went well. His father was
a prime example, after being taken to task for his treatment of his wife, the man had felt a deep
need to reassert his power over both of them. Severus still had that particular set of scars.

Severus knew that Harry was still mourning the loss of his godfather, making the upcoming
imprisonment with his relatives even worse. His emotions would be closer to the surface, and his
reactions more explosive. Severus felt a deep foreboding about this summer. He decided, at that
point, to spend his evening brewing healing potions and bruise salves. Not only would they be
useful, but the brewing would help him gain perspective and a semblance of peace. He wanted to
brew untraceable poisons, but settled for taking care of Harry rather than exacting revenge. He was
in the lab when Dumbledore arrived for a chat.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” Severus kept his temper under control, never more grateful that he
had a reputation for moodiness and sullen brooding. He couldn’t have pulled up a smile for the
bastard if he had wanted to.

Dumbledore smiled broadly and leaned close to Severus’ cauldrons, “Ah, good evening, Severus.
May I ask what you are working on?”

“This is a bone mending potion. The second cauldron holds a pain relief potion, and I shall be
working on a bruise balm later this evening,” Severus could see the suspicion on the headmaster’s
face. School was out, after all, the hospital wing had no need of restocking as any potion he brewed
at the moment would go bad long before September came. He had not planned on being interrupted
nor requiring a cover story, but he had earned his reputation as a master spy and could think on his
feet. “As the Dark Lord has come out into the open, I thought healing potions would be the most
useful to spend my time on. The potions cupboard at Grimmauld Place needs restocking.”

Dumbledore nodded, “Of course, my boy, of course. I do wish that you had mentioned it earlier,
but thinking ahead is not a bad thing.” Severus’ eyes narrowed, resenting the implication that the
bastard owned Severus’ every moment, or that Severus was accountable to the old man for every
potion he spent time on.

“What can I help you with, Headmaster?” Severus wanted the old man out of his lab, out of his
business, out of his life. He knew it was impossible, but he would settle for hurrying along at least
one of three.

The man smiled at him again, and Severus realized what the gazelle felt like when faced with the
lion. “I was planning to ask Horace Slughorn to take over the position of potions master, and was
curious about your thoughts.”

Severus controlled his face and his reactions. He would not give the man the pleasure of seeing
him panic. “Slughorn is not a potions master. He is at best, a brewer who can instruct, although he
only chooses to offer instruction to his favorites.” Severus took a deep breath. “Personally, I dislike
the man and find his smarmy interest in promising young people distasteful.” He paused and
regained control of his emotions. “May I ask why Hogwarts has need of his help? Have you lost
confidence in my brewing abilities?”

“Not at all, not at all, Severus, my boy,” Dumbledore twinkled at him, and Severus kept his
thoughts centered on the potions ingredients necessary for the bruise balm he would be brewing.
“In fact, I was hoping you could have this potion ready as soon as possible, by tomorrow evening
at the latest,” the man handed him a hand-written recipe. In order for him to have bothered
transcribing it, the headmaster must have gotten it from either a very dark book indeed, or had
made his own modifications to an existing recipe. Severus’ lip curled slightly as he read through it.
Dumbledore failed to notice, and continued, “And there is no need to worry over your place in this
school. I had hoped that you would be willing to serve as this year’s Defense professor. Finally a
chance at your favorite subject, hm?”

Severus was silent for a moment wondering what the old man was planning. He did nothing
without plots within plots, his motives obscure and complex, so there must be a reason he was
rearranging the staff in this way. He narrowed his eyes. In the last five years, all his plots had
revolved around Harry. Severus tried to think of how this new plan would affect his lover. It didn’t
make sense, Slughorn was a horrible person, but not someone who posed even a small threat to
Harry, what could this be in service of? Or perhaps he was looking at it the wrong way? The curse
was still active. Perhaps, this was an attempt to get rid of him without taking action. He just didn’t
know enough yet, and the old man wasn’t giving any of his motives away.

“Why, Albus?” Severus tried to keep his face neutral, but he thought that some of his suspicion
must have bled through as the headmaster’s face was a picture of innocence. “And how? The man
is not likely to come out of retirement. He’s too fond of the gifts his sycophants keep sending
him.”

“Oh, not to worry, my boy. Not to worry,” Dumbledore was twinkling at him and looking
particularly smug. “I think I have just the thing to lure Horace back within our walls. I trust I can
count on you to teach defense?”

“I shall endeavor to do my best, as always, Albus.” Severus grumbled. “I should like to maintain
my quarters and office here, though.”

“Why, whatever for? The rooms connected to the defense classroom are more than adequate, I
should think, and perhaps Horace will appreciate the spaciousness offered by the dungeons.”

“Really, Headmaster, I must remain in these rooms,” Severus allowed some of his anger to bleed
through his voice, “I cannot serve as head of house Slytherin if I am not near my students.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. As long as your students know where to find you, I’m sure you will
perform your duties admirably from the fourth floor, just as easily,” Dumbledore nodded as though
agreeing with himself, and Severus fumed. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he was not
about to be separated from his students. Dumbledore clearly had an agenda for moving him into the
new quarters, and he wondered what he could be planning.

“Dumbledore,” He began, but was cut off.

“You will do this Severus,” the man’s voice lost its affable charm and goodwill and became much
more despotic. “You shall move your quarters and your office up to the defense corridor, and leave
the dungeons for the potions professor. Slughorn will know his way around Slytherins well
enough, he was one once, if you recall.”
Severus offered a curt nod in agreement, seething. He disliked change on principle, but something
more bothered him about this rearrangement of positions. He felt he had been out-maneuvered by a
chess master, who was setting up the board for a decisive check-mate, while he had yet to get his
pieces out of their box. He no longer trusted the old man.

“One more thing, Severus,” Dumbledore had turned as though to leave, but Severus was no fool
and knew that this was the real reason he had visited. The man always seemed to save his real
intentions for casual throw away remarks and last minute instructions. “I’ll be out of the castle
tomorrow performing a small errand, but I wonder if I might have a chat with you upon my return.
We need to speak about Harry.”

Severus hid his trepidation behind layers and layers of indifference. “I fail to see why I need to be
involved in any discussion of the brat,” he heaved a sigh. “Yet, of course, I am at your disposal,
and I shall see you tomorrow evening.”

“He’s not what you think he is, Severus,” Dumbledore shook his head in disappointment at him. “I
do wish you would learn to see him as he is.”

Oh, but I do , Severus merely nodded at Dumbledore, and the man saw himself out. He stirred the
cauldron in front of him, lost in thought, as he considered the various ramifications of
Dumbledore’s latest whim. The more he thought it over, the more it made sense that the man was
trying to kill him. Dumbledore may not know or appreciate how much Harry currently meant to
him, but he did know that Severus would protect the boy as best he could. He had done so from the
beginning, despite how thoroughly he had disliked Harry at the time. In order to work against
Harry, Dumbledore would need to take out Severus. The old man himself had insisted that Severus
take on the role of shield for Potter. Dumbledore’s own plotting would make both of their deaths
necessary.

He shook his head. It was only the first day of the summer holiday, and already he felt that he was
playing catch up. Well, he would move into the cursed defense quarters, but he would make his
own plans to leave the position. Harry wanted to run, and Severus found himself in agreement.
They would have a year to make their plans and arrange their cover stories.

Glancing down at the cauldron, he realized the pain reliever had turned the correct shade of blue
and began adding the willow bark. His mind was already miles away, planning to lay false trails
and arrange decoy routes. They would run, and Dumbledore would lose his spy and his weapon all
at once. He felt a smile play over his lips.
 3 July 1996
Chapter Notes

TW: Harry’s treatment at the Dursleys is alluded to in this chapter, but it’s very
oblique— potions he will need, chores he is unable to complete, etc. It’s obvious that
he is mistreated, but not obvious how. Nevertheless, if this is a problem for you,
please read with caution. I’m not sure how to help you avoid it, as it flows through
most of the chapter.
TW: Depressive, borderline suicidal, definitely guilt-ridden thoughts. If Harry being
maudlin over all the death in his life is going to bother you, please don’t read the letter
of 2 July

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Severus had spent most of the previous day boxing up his possessions. He had previously believed
himself a clever and resourceful man, but learning the truth about Harry and to a lesser extent about
Dumbledore— he would need to press Harry for further details regarding the “adventures” he’d
been coerced into if he was to keep the both of them safe— well, that had changed his way of
thinking completely. He no longer considered any part of Hogwarts as home. Already, he felt more
than half-way gone. He could no longer find any safe corners or secret cupboards into which he
could stash his belongings and rely upon their privacy. He would have to live as antiseptically as
possible within the castle, and at the same time, he could not afford for anyone to notice how
sparse a presence he actually had. He would need to camouflage his living space with personal
mementos he had no emotional connection with. It was an overwhelming idea, and he felt lucky
that he did not have a reputation for sentimentality.

His potions lab would be the most difficult to part with. He looked lovingly at the racks and
shelves of organized, preserved ingredients and the clean countertop. He had spent more time in
this room than perhaps any other in the castle, including his classroom. Now, it was all packed
away, cleared of every twig of vervain and leafy sprig of mint. He had cleared his magic from the
cauldrons and packed them up, and then he had had to carefully cleanse his magic from each of the
shelves.

He spent a lot of the time thinking about the headmaster’s surprises and requirements. He was still
reeling from the promise Dumbledore had extracted from him. He remained uncertain regarding
his true feelings about it. On the one hand, the headmaster’s death would bring no tears to his eyes,
not after he had learned the truth of the old man. On the other, he had, as yet, avoided outright
murder. Indirectly, yes, he felt responsible every time a Death Eater had used one of his poisons to
torture a prisoner, or had kept going under the strength of one of his potions. Every time the Dark
Lord called for more and more obscure potions of evil intent, he felt a stab of guilt in providing it.
Each time he had justified himself as the tool of destruction, not the cause. He told himself that he
was as guilty as the knife used to stab a man. Even so, with only these oblique sins, the stain wore
heavy on his soul. To perform a direct murder, to kill in cold blood. It would haunt him.

But this was not his only concern, no. To kill Albus Dumbledore in the height of the war against
the Dark Lord, he would become pariah to the entire wizarding community. No one, no one would
believe him innocent of such a crime. And after the loss of every ally he had, thrown into the
depths of the Dark Lord’s world, how was he to keep his soul intact then? He shook his head, and
looked once more around the potion’s lab. His solace and his refuge from the world.

Well, he had another comfort didn’t he? And that one was hoping he would send food.

So, he used the rest of the day avoiding Dumbledore and arranging a small package for Harry. He
sent some sandwiches, fruit, and a variety of pasties all under preservation charms, packed in
alongside bruise balm, a phial of the new skelegro Harry had helped him with, a single phial of
dreamless sleep, and some pain relieving potions. On a whim, he dug out his old potions text book
and added it to the small box. He then sat to compose his letter to Harry.

Harry,

I sincerely hope you have no need of the potions or the food, but better that they go unused than be
missing should you have a need of them. They are all under strong preservation charms, which will
last until the wrappings have been disturbed. I have no doubt you can recognize the potions. Please
use caution with the dreamless sleep. It can have adverse effects on the psyche, and as you know, it
is addictive.

The old man has made some staffing changes next year. He is recruiting a former colleague—in
truth, my own former potions professor, an intelligent, if annoyingly ingratiating brewer. Please be
cautious around him. My book is yours, and I hope you find it useful in your next year. I shall still
be in the school, Dumbledore has not seen fit to free me yet. At least this year, you need not fear the
Defense teacher.

He is planning something, my Harry, and I do fear the consequences. He has extracted a terrible
promise from me, and I do not know how I shall bear up under it. In truth, he has asked me to
murder him publicly, thus cementing my place at the Dark Lord’s side. Harry, I cannot lie to you, I
shall not grieve him, but how can I perform this horrible act? It is against nature, against all
morality, and against my own soul. I shudder to think how those around will react— Minerva,
Pomona, Sinistra, and good Merlin, Hagrid. They shall all be baying for my blood.

Yesterday, he left the castle on some mysterious errand. It has cost him dearly, whatever it was he
did. He no longer has the use of his right hand, and the curse is spreading. His reward for this,
which he says is worth the sacrifice of an arm, is a ring with a black stone. I know nothing about
it, but I shall show you the memory when I can. Perhaps your beautiful mind may make more of it
than I am able.

You know, Beloved, that I am not one for sweet words, but I shall promise—you are always in my
thoughts. Eat the food. Use the potions. Stay as safe as you possibly can. I shall send more soon
and will find you as soon as I am free to leave.

Yours, Severus

He was utterly unable to put his heart down on paper and could only hope that Harry would
understand. He didn’t imagine that the boy would want flowery words or silly promises. Practical
help, nutrition, and information would go much further with his love than flowers or chocolates.
He rolled his eyes at the romantic notion, set everything under disillusionment charms set to break
at Harry’s touch, and stalked up to the owlery to find his sooty owl, Nynniaw. He had named him
for an ancient Welsh prince who fought against the Roman occupation. He had always had a
fondness for rebels, or so it now seemed.

He had watched as Nynniaw flew off toward Surrey, hoping that Harry would be alright until he
could get free of Dumbledore and take him away from the horrible relatives he had. He hated
thinking of his Harry being tortured by those sorry excuses for human beings, but there was
nothing he could do yet.

He spent most the day setting up a makeshift lab in the defense quarters, resenting every moment.
He did not have the same amount of space, nor did he bother with the magical charms that lined his
shelves. This was a temporary set-up. He knew the curse was real, and did not plan on keeping the
defense job for more than a year.

To break in the shoddy potion’s corner of his new bedroom, he set to work on another one of
Dumbledore’s special golden potions, pouring his resentment into every stir and slice. The man
would need them weekly, and if he was to be free at all this summer, he would need to have an
advance supply. The brewing itself was fairly interesting, and he wondered at its source.
Obviously, the base recipe produced a cleansing potion, designed for removing foreign bacteria
from wounds, but the changes in certain ingredients and instructions targeted magic rather than
microbes. He wondered where Dumbledore had found the original recipe and whether he had
adapted it himself or hired someone. And how could he have known he would need it? Did the
man plan to lose his arm? Severus believed that the curse was fatal, but if Dumbledore had already
factored that into his plans, he wondered at both the endgame and his part in it.

He finished the brewing and set the cauldron aside for cooling before it could be bottled, and
stretched out his back. He had worked through lunch, but another two hours remained until supper
would be served. Planning to ask a house elf for a small snack before dinner, he stepped out of the
lab and into his adjoining bathroom. He tossed his robes into the basket, which promptly
swallowed them to wherever the elves had designated as a laundry, and stepped into the shower.
His neck and shoulders felt tight, and the hot water pounding on them drew a groan of pleasure
from him. He considered briefly allowing himself to indulge in other pleasurable activities, but
held off out of respect for Harry. He didn’t want to be wanking over memories and fantasies while
the subject of those very fantasies was suffering unknown horrors in the muggle world.

As he toweled himself dry, he hoped that the food and potions for Harry arrived in good time and
in good condition. He wouldn’t expect a reply until late that evening at the very earliest. It was
over four hundred miles from Hogwarts to Surrey, and even at the fastest, his owl could cover only
approximately eighty in an hour. He dressed and stepped into the living area, finding a plate of
sandwiches waiting for him. He spent the time until dinner, reviewing defense curriculum and
wondering how much revision he would need to do to make up for the miserable instruction they
had had in recent years.

He took his evening meal at the staff table, avoiding small talk and glowering at his roasted
potatoes. He did not want to speculate uselessly about the future of the recent graduates. Likewise,
he did not want to ruminate wistfully about his own years at Hogwarts. He wanted to leave the
castle. He wanted to apparate into the middle of the Dursley home, flay the adults, teach the
teenager an unforgettable lesson in bullying others, and carry Harry out, never to return again. He
stabbed at his pork chop rather viciously. Dumbledore was missing from the meal, presumably his
“small errand” was still ailing him. Severus hoped it was painful.

As it turned out, his hopes, at least in regards to Dumbledore, were answered. The man called him
up to the tower office for more potion. On the way there, Severus thought about making the same
trip, the previous evening.

The man had sent Fawkes to him, and the bird had flashed him quite abruptly into the head’s
office, where Severus had found a semiconscious Dumbledore, mumbling about temptation, his
right arm blackened as though burned. Snape took in the scene for a moment, sorely tempted to
allow the curse to run its course, but considering the other lunatic who wanted control over the
magical world, perhaps the devil he knew would be better. He summoned the golden potion, which
he had decanted into phials just that evening, and tipped it into Dumbledore’s open mouth.

He paid the ensuing conversation little concentration, as he focused his energy on directing the
potion through Dumbledore’s ruined arm. He knew the headmaster considered him expendable,
but at this moment, he was the only one standing between Dumbledore and the curse. He hid his
smirk. Temptation indeed. He didn’t imagine that Dumbledore knew how tempted he was to
arrange the headmaster’s meeting his “next great adventure” far sooner than he anticipated. The
golden potion would likely stop the curse, but the damage could not be reversed by any type of
magic. The arm was and would remain dead, at this point, it was simply a matter of containing the
decomposition as long as possible.

He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. "Did you think that breaking the ring would
break the curse?"

Dumbledore did his best to dismiss the importance of the ring, but it had caught Severus’ attention.
He frowned. Anything for which Dumbledore sacrificed his own well-being, potentially his life,
and certainly at least some of his magic, carried far more importance than the man was showing.
Severus had carefully memorized the look of the thing, down to the last scratch on the face of the
stone. All of Dumbledore’s plots lately had revolved around Harry, so Severus planned to discuss
this with him as soon as possible.

Dumbledore had then seemed to gather his strength and sit up. What had ensued was the strangest
conversation of his life. He had agreed to murder Dumbledore, and truth be told, it had not taken
much convincing. His sarcastic reply had been much more heartfelt and earnest in his own mind
than it sounded to Dumbledore. By the end, he had agreed to play spy, once more, for Dumbledore,
this time spying on his own godson rather than an insane Dark Lord, and then had been thanked for
his willingness to commit murder.

Severus came back to the present with a small shake of his head. “At this rate, Headmaster, you
will overdose on the potion before I have a chance to murder you.” His voice remained even,
despite his great reluctance to commit the act. “Ideally, you should wait a week between doses, but
at the very least, longer than a day, you old fool. I have a supply that should last you the rest of the
summer if you can manage to take the appropriate dosage. Did you think there would be no pain?
No reaction? That ring carried a curse so dark I have never seen its like. Of course you are
suffering. You should have left well enough alone.”

Severus shook his head as he walked down the stairs, returning once more to the comfort of his
dimly lit dungeons. The man was insane. That ring would prove to be a problem, though, he
thought to himself. And wild creatures and dangerous beasts are only more vicious when they are
dying; he reminded himself to use caution.

Harry’s reply was waiting with Nynniaw when he stepped back into his rooms.

Sev, 1 July

My plan is to just write as much as I want whenever I want and then send it off when I can manage
it. Don’t count on regular post. The Dursleys don’t like me communicating with “the other freaks”
too much, and Mione’s taking Hedwig home with her for safety.

Is it weird that I miss you after only a few hours? I mean, we were just together this morning, and
fuck but I want that back. I want your arms and your voice and your kisses— I want it all back. I’m
on the train at the moment. Hermione’s here, and I think she’s writing to a certain Bulgarian
seeker she met last year. No idea if that’ll last or not, but it’s entertaining. Weasley is busy stuffing
his face, so I won’t provide details— no need to put us both off food in the future.
Draco has, of course, stopped by to threaten us with the usual. Don’t give up hope, Sev. He’ll come
around. He was staring at Hermione nearly the whole time he was here in our carriage, and I’d
swear I saw hearts in his eyes. Hah! Didn’t see that one coming, did you? At any rate, he spent
about fifteen minutes with us, and didn’t utter one single solitary slur about her blood. Just wait till
his father hears about it! Seriously, though, if that’s gonna happen, he’s got some pretty big
groveling to do before she’ll give him the time of day. You might suggest sending school supplies
rather than flowers if he ever gets up the nerve to ask her out.

Speaking of asking someone out— do you think we might ever manage a real date? Where on earth
would we go, I wonder. I’ve never been anywhere that isn’t Surrey, Grimmauld, Diagon, or
Hogwarts. Unless you count the graveyard in Little Hangleton, and for some reason, I really
don’t. A real date— dinner, naturally. I don’t want to go anywhere too fancy, though. I get antsy in
the presence of too much silverware. Indian, maybe? Thai? And then what? I snuck into a cinema
once. That’s what people say, right? Dinner and a movie? I wasn’t too impressed with the film I
saw, but maybe because I only watched the second half. Maybe we could go to a museum? The
primary school I attended went to a science museum, but of course, the Dursleys wouldn’t return
my form. It sounded cool, though. What do wizards do on dates, anyway?

I think I could make the after-date program also very interesting. In the programs Petunia
watches, someone usually invites their date in for “a cup of coffee.” So, Sev, would you like to have
some coffee with me? I bet I could get you to ignore the coffee till it went stone cold.

Have I mentioned that I miss your lips?

Sev, still 1 July

Merlin, it’s a good thing that Ron hasn’t bothered with Legilimency. He’d have died of
shock. He interrupted me in the middle of that rather lovely thought to whinge about
his sister snogging Dean Thomas. I think I was supposed to be jealous or something,
but honestly— Dean’s doing me a right favor distracting her while he can. The train’s
about to stop though, so this is gonna be short.

I do miss your lips. And that isn’t all I miss.

Sev, still 1 July

Ugh. So, the Order are a bunch of sadistic imbeciles. A whole slew of them, including the
Weasleys, Moody, of all people, and Tonks, and a few others I didn’t recognize decided to confront
my extremely muggle, magic-hating uncle to threaten him regarding my well-being. They made
sure to inform him that my godfather was dead, which effectively destroyed the only protection I
had in this hellhole, and then told him that they wouldn’t come check on me till I’d been out of
contact for a week.

So, now the bastard is angry for a whole host of reasons. He’s angry about being threatened. He’s
angry that “weirdos” spoke to him in public. He’s angry that they’re planning to check on me. Oh,
Sev… he’s so fucking angry. Petunia’s angry that people “like that filth” exist. She’s also angry
that I’m not in any condition to work in the garden— people might see, you know.

I’m, hm, well, I’m not great, but I’ll survive this. So, don’t come storming in here. What am I
saying? Please, please come storming in here. Come storming in, with your great flapping cape,
and your wand, and your lips, and curse them both stupid. And then, kiss me, heal me, and fuck me
till I can’t remember my name.

Nah, really, Sev, I’m still breathing, so it could always be worse. I’d kill for a pain potion though.
Don’t come charging to the rescue if it means your safety with either of the giant pains in our
arse.

Sev, 2 July

I’ve had another dream of the Dark Wanker. First since the Ministry, and holy hell
was he upset. Destroyed an entire village in the West Country. Is everything okay? Are
you all right? I swear. I’m planning on killing him, you know. Not because of
Dumbledore. Not for the Merlin-damned prophecy. For you. I will revisit every minute
of your pain upon the bastard. Pick his scales off one by one. Reducto his kneecaps.
Break his fucking skull in. I’d punch his nose, but he hasn’t got one.

Honestly, I hate that I’m a murderer. I hate that death surrounds me. I know I’m not to
blame for my parents’ deaths, but it does seem like at least my mum would be alive if
she had just stepped aside. Well, I guess she made her choice. I do feel guilt over
Quirrel, though. I suppose it was self-defense, but honestly, I decided to use my hands
to burn the man’s face off. What sort of eleven year old makes those decisions? And
the fucking headmaster had the nerve to tell me it was love. Sev— I was a child and I
killed a man, and the old bastard awarded me points for it.

And then, there’s Pettigrew. Pettigrew and Cedric. Loads of guilt there, Sev. Piles of
it. It was me who argued against killing the rat in third year— Lupin and Siri were all
for it. I think even Mione would’ve been okay with it, and she’s all about morality. But
killing, Sev. It destroys something inside you, and I didn’t want to see it happen. So,
the rat escaped. And then that damn tournament. Sev, WHO THE FUCK HOLDS A
DEATH TOURNAMENT FOR TEENAGERS???? Something is wrong with the
wizarding world that the thing even exists, but at least our ancestors realized what a
stupendously bad idea it was and stopped it. Sometimes, I really wonder about this
new world I find myself a part of. I was the reason Cedric was there that night, Sev. It
was my idea to take the damn cup together. What a moment to go all Hufflepuff, eh? I
don’t think it was a full minute after we landed, and Cedric was dead. The Noseless
Wonder hollered out ‘Kill the spare,’ and the Rat cast. It was horrible. Is it my fault,
Sev? I know Siri was my fault, at least partly, but how many lives will be on my
account at the end?

Maudlin fucking letter, hm? Sorry about that, but you can send me a therapy bill later.
I have creative ways to pay, promise.

Anyhow… other than the dreams, I’m completely in the dark. Please let me know
what’s happening? I can’t get the Prophet without the Dursleys going ballistic, but
the muggle news is grim enough. I can read between the lines.

Be safe, Sev. Please be safe.

Sev, 3 July

I blame Dumbledore for many many things. That I woke up alone today is definitely in the top five
transgressions he has to answer for. I miss you, Sev. I miss your body next to mine. I want your heat
and your skin. I want to smell you in my hair, my pillow, the mattress. I want to open my eyes in the
morning and squint up into yours, because I’m blind, and don’t sleep with my glasses on. I want to
feel you next to me. I’d know you by your taste, your smell, your magic. Merlin, I miss the way you
touch me— all possession and command and care. I want your fingers in my hair and your tongue
in my mouth.
It’s been a day, Sev. I don’t really want to talk about it, but it’s been a day. And when you come in
with your flapping capes and your wand and your lips, please curse the neighbor punk Piers with
something disfiguring and painful.

Sev, still 3 July

Oh, you beautiful, wonderful man! I could kiss you all over. Your majestic, clever, bird
came this evening, and he was smart enough to avoid all the muggles, and stayed
quiet, and didn’t mind that I had no treats for him— and he brought me potions and
food! Sev, never doubt it— you’re my favorite person in the entire world. Thank you.
I’m eating a pasty as I write, and the potions are already starting to work, and I can’t
wait to read your potions notes.

The staffing change is weird, although you’ll be brilliant at defense. I’m not sure I can
picture you anywhere other than the dungeons with potions fumes surrounding your
head, but I still have fond memories of your duel against that giant prat Lockheart.
Watching him fly arse over teakettle was lovely. I’ll keep my distance from the new
Potions professor, but do you think I could wheedle a few private lessons? If I promise
to be extra good?

You might be surprised by the Defense classes— I taught a load of practical defense
last year. All of the fifth years, apart from Slytherin, some sixth and seventh years, all
the Gryff third and fourth years, and a few of the younger years in Ravenclaw and
Hufflepuff. By the end of it, they could all manage basic shields, disarming, and non-
lethal hexes and jinxes. Some even managed a patronus form. I couldn’t risk the
Slytherins because of Umbridge and her fucking inquisitorial squad, but I know a
bunch of them, Zabini, Nott, and Davis in particular, used an abandoned classroom to
work on practical spells. We weren’t going to let the ministry ruin our futures. Can’t
wait to see what you’re going to teach.

Please, Sev, don’t kill Dumbledore. Not yet. I want him dead almost as badly as
Captain Cueball, but don’t. Your soul shines so brightly. You don’t deserve the pain it
will bring. We’ll figure out another way. I swear we will. I’ll help.

Thanks again for the supplies. They are absolutely appreciated. If you send any more,
do you think you could spare a blood replenisher? I don’t mean to worry you, it’s not
that bad yet, but it’d be good to have on hand just in case.

In return, when I see you next, I’ll tell you how we got Sirius out of the castle in third
year, right under Fudge’s nose. You’re going to hate it.

Yours Completely,

Harry

His. Severus gripped the letter and controlled his temper. His Harry was worried about bleeding
out. He had been beaten to the point that he could not work in the garden. He wanted the neighbor
disfigured. Severus’ jaw clenched tight as he thought about why that might be, and a grinding noise
filled the quiet of his rooms. He glanced back down at the rambling parchment, written partly in
ink and quill, and partly in muggle biro, speckled with drops of blood, slightly crumpled, and he
collapsed onto the sofa with his head in his hands. His beautiful, kind, generous Harry was
suffering a kind of PTSD that left him worrying about becoming evil. The guilt was gnawing at his
beloved, and Dumbledore had merely. No. If he thought about it, he would give in and end the old
man right then.
 Nynniaw gave an inquisitive hoot, and he glanced up. He smiled faintly at the owl, and fished out a
treat. “He thought you were majestic and clever.” The owl hooted and fluffed up his wings. “I’m
proud of you for avoiding the muggles, and I’m grateful you waited for a reply.” The owl nipped at
his fingers affectionately, and flapped himself off to the owlery for a well-deserved rest.

Severus decided to follow the owl’s example and stalked into the bedroom, letter still in hand. He
planned to read it once more before he fell asleep.

Chapter End Notes

Underlined bit is a direct quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K.
Rowling
 4 July 1996
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Severus had spent most of the morning catching up on his sleep. Dumbledore’s summons regarding
the ring had come late in the evening, and had taken up much of the night. He shook his head. That
foolishness over the ring had required not only the potion Dumbledore demanded of him, but also
all his acting skills. The repercussions of a dead Dumbledore had filled his evening’s thoughts the
night before. The Dark Lord would be thrilled, and his poison would spread throughout the
wizarding world without any check. Severus shuddered at the thought of what would become of
Hogwarts. His thoughts were grim, but he had returned to Harry’s letter twice more before finally
falling into disturbed slumber.

His dreams were filled with visions of Hogwarts under the Dark Lord’s control. Under other
circumstances, he would have enjoyed seeing the Slytherin banners filling the great hall, but the
student body was less than forty percent what it should be. Not a single muggle-born sat at the
welcome feast, and most of the students from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were missing. Harry
hadn’t returned either. He was forced into acting the part of loyal death eater. It had left him
feeling soul sick. He woke about an hour before lunch, and spent the time thinking though his
plans for the next week or so.

He would need to brew more potions for Harry. It would be a hassle now that he no longer had
access to the beautiful potions lab he had set up for himself, but he could adjust. The blood
replenishers would take a full twenty-four hours, as he had none on hand at the moment. They
would be the most complicated. More pain relievers and bruise balm would probably also be
helpful, and those were easy enough to brew as neither took more than three hours. He would add
some more food and books. He didn’t truly know how Harry lived while with the Dursleys, but he
knew Harry had an active mind. In his letter, Harry had been enthusiastic over getting his potions
book, so he hoped that more would be well-received. He wished that he could avoid the whole
problem and get Harry out of there, but Dumbledore still controlled his time for at least another
week.

Lunch was a special kind of torture. Dumbledore finally made an appearance at the staff table, and
had his cursed arm exclaimed over, Minerva and Poppy questioning him regarding the source and
the effect. The headmaster spent the time deliberately misleading them both before Severus could
get a word out, but he did notice Pomona glance at the arm with a gleam in her eye. Severus
wondered what that was about, but only briefly. He had no real time for more intrigues. He rose
from the table and was about to leave the room, when Dumbledore called to ask what he had
planned for the day. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the table and glanced quickly at his
colleagues. Minerva had glanced curiously at Dumbledore, but Pomona had a small frown on her
face. Filius also seemed disturbed.

“I have lesson plans to create and resources to review for my new subject, Headmaster,” Severus
lifted a brow, as though daring Dumbledore to object to his work. It was his fault that Severus
needed to spend his time preparing lessons in a brand new subject.

“Of course, Severus,” the man nodded, as though approving of how Severus spent his time.
Severus pressed his lips together, lest another objection cross them. He held himself stiff as he
turned and walked out.

As he left, he heard Pomona Sprout speak up, “Really, Headmaster. I have no idea why you need to
rearrange Severus’ duties. He has had an exemplary record as potions’ master, and it’s hardly fair
to require more of him.”

Severus smiled grimly as he walked off. At least one of his colleagues recognized his hard work.
Unfortunately, that thought arrived accompanied by the sour reminder that any good reputation he
had earned would soon be overshadowed by murder. Pomona would soon regret her words in his
defense.

He stalked through the castle back to his new quarters and spent the afternoon getting started on
the potions for Harry, pulling the ingredients he needed from the student store cupboard, and
cursing Dumbledore for moving his quarters. Eventually, he would need to inventory and organize
the students’ supplies, and then send in the reorder to replace what they had used over the year. He
would need— actually, Slughorn would need a full cupboard and inventoried list in order to
prepare for the next year.

His heart clenched at the strangeness of not teaching potions any longer. On the positive side, he
would no longer waste his time teaching children who neither knew how to nor cared to stand their
cauldrons the right way up. But no matter how he hated teaching the careless, wasteful little brats,
he would miss the dungeons, the cauldrons, and the brewing. He was not a man who handled
change gracefully.

He glanced around the small corner of his new quarters that he had repurposed for brewing and
thought wistfully of his lab. It had taken several years, but he had finally set everything into order
within them, and it felt strange to abandon them to the mercenary attitude of the new professor. He
knew that even if he were allowed to return to the potions classroom after this year, his efficient,
systematic, clean organization would be long lost. Slughorn had never been a careful man, a
competent brewer, yes, but Severus had outclassed his potions knowledge by the time he was in
fourth year. He only hoped there would not be too many accidents due to the man’s carelessness.

He spent his teatime in his office, checking on the potions and finalizing paperwork. He still had
several tasks yet to complete. Tomorrow would be the final inspection of the Slytherin dormitories.
It was his responsibility to ensure that nothing hazardous had been left behind, not that his snakes
were in the habit of being careless, but some had been known to misplace certain illicit books or
dubious objects. He preferred to be the one to discover these items, and he used his own discretion
regarding returning them to their owners. A few of his older students had been exploring the darker
side of runes and charms from an academic point of view. He had nothing against them learning
the theory, but if they thought he would return their failed experiments and applications, they were
fools. He would never put potentially harmful objects back into the hands of adolescents. The risks
were just too great.

He stalked into the dormitories and glanced around. The elves knew better than to do more than
the laundry and basic maintenance down here. He insured that his students tidied after themselves,
and they all knew better than to leave the place a mess. Now that they were gone, he cast several
summoning spells to cover any personal belongings left in each of the dormitories, and found a
selection of clothing, several old text books, including at least fifteen copies of Defensive Magical
Theory , two older books that would need further investigation, a few photographs, one with ink
spilled over the face of a boy, a cursed pair of shoes he planned to destroy forthwith, and other
assorted detritus left behind by teenagers after the school year. He would set aside most of the
clothing for those in need, the useful books he would add to the Slytherin Common Room Library
shelves, the rest of it he would dispose of.

He called the head house elf in and turned the rooms over to their care. They took care of most of
the cleaning, but he made sure his students were protected first. If the elves found anything dark
they would be duty bound to report it to the headmaster. He didn’t need his students expelled
because of a book, especially since he suspected that Dumbledore only confiscated them for his
own library, anyway.

Severus rolled his eyes. Dumbledore believed that anything of a dark origin had a potentially
corrupting influence over anyone other than himself, the old hypocrite. Half the books in the
headmaster’s office were full of dark magic, but the man would never relinquish anything that
might give him an edge. Severus used to believe that Dumbledore took on the burden of
researching dark magic on behalf of the larger wizarding world. Now that his eyes had been
opened, Severus could see the obvious self-interest and corruption.

He sighed and packed the two darker texts back to his office. He felt confident that he would be
sending at least one back to its owner. The other had no business being in a school and he intended
on having words with that student about safety and discretion. Speaking of dark books, he would
also need to visit the library and review the Defense reference section and available books as he
planned out assignments. He smiled and wondered at Harry’s teaching experience. He would look
forward to testing the students and see how well Harry had prepared them for dueling and battle.
He shook his head at how completely he had underestimated Harry. Not for the first time, and
probably not for the last, he considered what the future would hold for his brilliant young
paramour.

Harry could do almost anything. Now that he could see past the mask of foolish, lazy Gryffindor,
he knew that Harry had a sharp, creative mind, with flashes of insight. The boy was book smart,
obviously. His A-levels proved as much, but their evening of brewing had shown that he also had
an innovative approach to ingredients and their uses. Severus wanted to spend long hours, over the
course of weeks and months, just exploring the ideas Harry had already managed to spark in him.

Instead, he spent the evening with Madam Pince in the library, and returned to his quarters with a
frown on his face. A number of the books he had expected to be there were missing. Pince had told
him the headmaster had removed certain of the darker or more advanced books, but others should
have been on the shelves. Irma had been absolutely incensed at the loss of the books, but Severus
had discovered a mystery. Nevertheless, with an accurate idea of the reference material available to
the students, Severus decided to spend the next day lesson planning, once he sent more supplies off
to Harry, of course.

He checked on his potions progress. The brewing of blood replenishing potions involved long
hours stewing the ingredients, and then adding them and stirring in complicated patterns every two
hours, and so, yet again, his night would not be restful. The first of the stirs was due in an hour, so
he slipped into the shower to wash off the day. As he did, he contemplated Harry’s situation. The
boy needed a magical education, and there was no way that magical Britain would let go of their
Boy-Who-Lived. He was stuck at Hogwarts. But it was equally obvious that his years had been
plagued by what the headmaster called “adventures” and what Harry had called attempted murder.
He knew who he believed. He knew his outlook tended toward the pessimistic, but he didn’t
believe that Harry would make it through the last two years without considerable help. He knew
Harry was capable, but he also knew how dangerous a desperate Dumbledore could get.

He had long ago resolved to do whatever was necessary to protect Harry. The first step had to be
freeing him of the headmaster’s control. The old man had far too much influence in their world and
had used it to situate himself firmly in place as Harry’s guardian. Severus started worrying about
emancipation issues, and whether those would work with Harry’s situation. He knew that abuse,
especially by legal guardians, was grounds for a change, at the very least, but he doubted they
would have a reasonable or fair hearing. Dumbledore’s popularity was once again high, and he had
been reinstated as Chief Warlock. The man would not countenance any legal attempt to remove the
 Boy Who Lived from his custody.

But at the moment, what Harry needed were Blood Replenishing potions. To that end, he began the
first stirring pattern, staring down into the swirling potion, and wishing Harry was there with him.
This potion could be an academic exercise, not a life-or-death necessity. He set the timer for the
first two-hour interval of stewing, and sat himself on the sofa in the living area. He opened a book,
but couldn’t read more than five words before he was thinking, yet again, of Harry. The boy
wanted to leave Britain, and he couldn’t blame him. A small smile crossed his lips as he considered
where they might go.

They could start with the continent. Severus had always been fond of the Netherlands, and
Amsterdam had a thriving wizarding community. He had always liked the more open attitudes of
both the magical and the muggles he had met there. He thought Harry might like to visit Czechia.
A world-famous Defense institute was located in the magically hidden part of the Prague Castle,
and they might arrange a tour or interview. Prague itself was a beautiful town, too. He would also
like to take Harry to Austria. The muggles put on wonderful operas, and he knew that Harry’s
relatives would never have shared that with him. He might like it, or he might not, but at least he
could experience it for himself. From Vienna, it would be easy to skip over and visit Hungary, as
well. Severus loved Hungary. The capital held a bustling life full of culture, restaurants, old
bookstores, and a thriving magical district, hidden near the chain bridge. Witches and Wizards
respected creatures of all kinds there, and it was not unusual to see hags or werewolves shopping
openly alongside humans. The countryside afforded all manner of rare potions ingredients, and one
of the castles had been turned into a comprehensive magical library. Once one reached the
mountains of Transylvanian Romania there was even more to explore. In his memory, the people
welcomed tourists (and their galleons), and offered a warm inviting atmosphere, good food, and
folk wisdom in return. He had spent part of his mastery learning the plants and animals of the
continent, and would occasionally visit during the summer holidays when he had both the funds
and the free time.

Where would they travel after that? Well, Harry had wanted to be somewhere warm, so perhaps
Greece or India. Severus had been to neither country, but knew there would be much to do and
discover, and his heart longed to do so with Harry at his side.

He shook his head at his foolishness. A mere few days without Harry seemed intolerable. Had
anyone told him even a month ago that he would be behaving like a smitten teenager with a crush,
over Potter no less, he would have hexed them without second thought. Yet, here he was, counting
the minutes till he could sweep into Surrey like a knight in shining armor. He rolled his eyes over
his own folly. He supposed a large part of his obsession comprised his worry for Harry’s current
situation. Anyone who needed pain relievers, skelegro, and blood replenishers in order to spend a
few days with his relatives, deserved his worry.

He sighed and got up to tend the potion again. Perhaps he would attempt to get some sleep
between this and the next stir. If he set an alarm in his wand for two hours, he could get a bit of
rest and still manage the potions. He slouched back onto the sofa, determined not to use the bed,
lest he fall too deeply asleep. As his eyes slipped shut, he had one last thought of the softness of
Harry’s hair, and the sweetness of his skin before sleep caught him up.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry. I know this one’s a bit short and pensive, but it’ll get moving again, pretty soon.
 5 July 1996

Severus woke that morning with a cramp in his neck and an ache in his back from a night spent
over cauldrons, grabbing a few quick moments of sleep when he could. It was not the most
comfortable of feelings, but he believed it was worth the effort. The potion had only another three
additions and he then could apply cooling charms to it in order to decant it into phials. He was
anxious to get the potion to Harry as soon as possible.

He checked it again, and found that the color had turned from a strong purple to a deep maroon. It
was on its way to the crimson color of blood, and only then would it be truly ready. He sighed and
began the stirs. Crosswise, one turn clockwise, crosswise, one turn widdershins, a figure eight, two
turns clockwise, a figure eight, two turns widdershins, fold from the bottom, three turns clockwise,
three turns widdershins, fold from the top— it was easy to become distracted and forget how many
turns were required.

He removed the stirring rod, wiped the excess on the same towel he had been using for the purpose
during the evening, and set it aside to wait. The towel, which had been created by transfiguring a
bay leaf, contained traces of the potion and thus of magic, and it would be the final ingredient.
Folded and placed precisely into the cauldron, it would dissolve and release the echoes of each stir
and all the residual ingredients back into the potion.

Severus placed his palms on the small of his back and leaned into a stretch before he stepped into
the bathroom. A hot shower would help with the aches, making him feel slightly more human
before he faced breakfast with the rest of the staff. As he stood under the hot spray with his eyes
closed, he relived the dream that had woken him.

They had been alone in that warm safe place Harry wanted to see. Harry had been standing naked
in golden sand, in front of a glittering sea. Severus was also there, also naked, but he was standing
in the shade of a strange tree watching Harry stare at the water. The sun was kissing his caramel
skin, just begging for Severus to have a taste. He had walked up behind the boy and wrapped his
arms around his waist, pressing kisses along his shoulder up to his neck, and they stood there,
together, watching the waves brush up against the shore.

Harry had turned in his arms, and Severus had woken. He hated the cold empty feeling that
swamped him without Harry, and resented all over again the necessity of keeping the headmaster
ignorant of their connection. Not only would he likely be fired, but without Dumbledore’s support,
he risked Azkaban. But he did want the boy with him.

He sighed and turned off the shower. His life in Hogwarts had been distinctly miserable without
the daily conversations, and more, he had had with Harry. He still wasn’t sure how the boy had
gone from the bane of his existence to an absolutely integral part of his life in such a short time. He
dressed and checked the potion once more before heading to the Great Hall.

Dumbledore once again refused to tell anyone about the curse plaguing his arm. Severus was
regretting his decision to kill the old man more and more, and especially if he kept quiet about
getting himself cursed. He didn’t have many friends or allies, but he didn’t want those he did have
to believe him a murderer. He knew that McGonagall and Hagrid especially would never believe
the good of him again if they thought he had killed their hero in cold blood.

He applied himself to some bacon and eggs on toast, and considered the future. The next few days
would be impossible, but perhaps he could slip away for a day just to check on Harry. He hated
having the boy so far from his reach and in such unsafe conditions. Yes, he could potentially
apparate to Diagon under some pretense, and then slip into the muggle world and travel to Surrey.
He would simply have to take precautions and ensure he had excuses ready.

The decision made, he returned to his quarters and the next few turns on his potion. While waiting
for the final series of stirs and the addition of the last ingredient, he composed a letter for Harry.

Fy Anwylaf,

I dreamed of you last night. You were naked and beautiful and happy in my arms. I hate waking
without you. The bed is cold and far too large.

I have included your blood replenishers along with a level three healing potion. It will take care of
any infection you may have contracted. Please, beloved, never be concerned about asking me for
what you need, even what you want. If it is in my power, it will be yours.

The headmaster is still keeping mum regarding his injury and my promise. I fear beloved— I fear I
shall not be able to complete the task before me, I fear what this means for you, I fear the nature of
the ring he brought back. I know the old man has plans within his plans, but I do not know what he
has in store for either of us this time. You can be sure that he either has his plots already or is
making them as you read this. He will always have plans and contingencies and backups. The man
is like a spider— he pulls a string and the flies are caught, dancing on his web till he drains them
of life. I believe he intends to visit you in Surrey himself, but I do not yet know when.

Your speculations on my godson’s infatuation with your friend are more accurate than you
imagine. I have also noticed him spending far too much attention on her, and I find it utterly
hilarious. His father will indeed have many things to say on the subject. From what I know of the
lady’s character, Draco will need to make a distinct break from his family’s philosophy, and
perhaps his family itself. I hope he is strong enough to do so. His future is much on my mind. I
believe that the Dark Lord has plans for him, unpleasant ones. The boy will need to find his
backbone and find it soon. I know how powerful love is as a motivation, but I should like to see
Draco find his moral character on his own merit as well, nor would I ever place such pressures on
your Ms. Granger. She does not deserve to be held accountable for more than her own soul.

As to our going on a date, I look forward to seeing what you may plan for us. I should like to see
museums and films and theatre and parks and restaurants and chip shops and seasides with you. I
should like to see the whole world with you. I do not know what constitutes a date in the magical
world. Students seem intent on walking to Hogsmeade together and having overpriced, terrible tea
at Madam Puddifoots. Shall we go sometime and discover such delights? Perhaps not.
Nevertheless, whatever a date in the magical world might be, I look forward to finding out as soon
as may be— provided I go with you.

I have been lesson planning the last few days, and more and more I find myself looking forward to
putting your students through their paces. Expect a review of your teaching methods and efficacy,
Darling.

Beloved, you are not a murderer. Acting in self-defense or the defense of other innocents is not a
crime. You would never accept me speaking in such a way of myself, and truly, I am responsible
for many crimes. You, my love, have suffered through many tragedies, most of them, unfortunately,
occurred in your very presence. Do not confuse evil done to you with the evil that you do. You
speak of those who have died. Honor their memories, live the lives they could not, and think also of
those who have lived. You stopped the rise of a madman at eleven years old and when adults
around you ignored the risk. To my shame, I was one such. You saved the youngest Weasley’s life,
and despite her growing into a pest of a shameless little slut, you don’t regret it. Know that I do not
wish her dead, my Harry, I only hope she learns some boundaries and grows a bit of common
sense. In your third year, you saved all of us from a horde of dementors. I have not yet heard the
story, but I recognized the patronus that stood between me and the hundreds who would have had
my soul. You saved your godfather, your friends, me, and yourself. During that horrid tournament,
you saved both the Delacour girls, and Krum who would have been accused of an unforgivable
curse had you not noticed his incapacitation. Last year, how many of the younger students did you
save from detention with the toad? You are not evil, my love. Your soul shines with life and light.

News of the Dark Lord must wait, I’m afraid, although I enclose the past few days worth of Prophet
editions. I have not been called since the meeting you witnessed the aftermath of in June. As you
can see, the Ministry is in a state of advanced panic, and I estimate that they will not last the year.
Fudge is gone, and our new Minister is a man of action. Indeed, a man who casts first and asks
questions later. His record as head auror was not exemplary, in my opinion, although he definitely
took down more than his fair share of dark witches and wizards. The public wanted a change from
Fudge’s platitudes and inaction, and they certainly got it. Whether they like the change is another
matter.

You know, my dearest, how I felt about your godfather. Knowing that he was not the man he
seemed changes little of my own feelings— I’m afraid that I still carry a heavy grudge over the
injustices of our youths. However, I am indeed curious how you managed to secret him out of
Hogwarts under the very nose of the aurors, and I know how much you value him. I shall endeavor
to see past my hatred for your sake, fy anwylaf , and I look forward to the story, if only to see the
joy on your face as you finally reveal your hidden brilliance.

There is a chance you will see me soon, though I do not think I will be able to stay or remove you
yet. I find myself at a loss without you and simply wish to look upon your face once more. I never
believed I would so thoroughly belong to another, but I am and always will remain,

Yours,

Severus

Merlin. When had he become so sappy? But he couldn’t find it in himself to change anything, now
that it had been written. He collected another hamper of food, and began the process of preserving
it in individual wrappers. He went for hot food this time and placed stasis as well as preservation
spells. When Harry unwrapped the food, it would be as though it had just been cooked. He included
utensils, a flagon of pumpkin juice, his own defense lecture notes for the N.E.W.T. classes, and in
a fit of whimsy, a black T-shirt from his wardrobe. He shook his head, feeling like one of the
teenagers whose trysts he took delight in so frequently breaking up. Once the potion had been
cooled and bottled, he added the phials, spelled unbreakable, the old newspapers he had promised
Harry, and his letter sitting on top.

He closed the top of the package, sealing and shrinking it, adding the disillusionment and secrecy
spells before he carried it up to the owlery. He watched Nynniaw fly off into the bright July
sunshine and felt like his heart followed along.

That afternoon, he fretted. Ostensibly, he was closing down the student potions labs for another
master to take charge of them, rearranging his books so that Defense held pride of place, and
investigating the new office he would have to work from. However, his mind was completely
occupied with Harry and his state of health. By the evening, he didn’t believe he could manage
another meal in Dumbledore’s presence without exploding, and so asked an elf to provide a tray of
sandwiches in his quarters.

He was only half-way through the first when his mark burned. Shooting off a quick patronus
message to Dumbledore, he made for the front gates and the apparition point just beyond
Hogwarts’ wards. He hoped beyond hope that Harry didn’t have to witness this meeting.

Arriving at Malfoy Manor, he schooled his thoughts and his expression into absolute blankness,
not an emotion or an opinion to be found, and crossed the wards. He stalked toward the large
double doors and entered the throne room that had once been a light, airy, gilded ballroom, but was
now redone in black and green, with what was probably now a permanent bloodstain in the center
of the marble. Severus kept his heartbeat even and his gaze bland as he stepped over the threshold
and bowed to the company seated around a long table.

When the Dark Lord indicated he should approach, he stepped quickly but smoothly forward and
knelt at the monster’s feet.

“My Lord,” Severus intoned with low reverence in his voice.

“Severus,” came a high sibilant reply, “take your place amongst your fellows. Tonight is an
auspicious night, a night of” cue the dramatic pause, “celebration.” Severus held back an eye roll—
Harry’s sense of humor was rubbing off on him, and that was dangerous in this company.

Severus risked a glance up at Voldemort. He was taking an unholy joy in drawing out the situation.
He would get no clues from the man before he chose to reveal the reason for this meeting. Severus
turned his gaze onto the assembled crowd. Ah. So, it had come to this already. He hid his dismay
in the furthest corner of his mind. There sat Draco, having taken his father’s seat at the table.
Narcissa looked stoic, next to him, but there was a kind of wild panic in her eyes that only someone
who knew her well would see.

Draco did not look the way Severus had imagined he would, should this moment ever come to
pass. He had believed the boy would be arrogant, proud, and eager to follow his father’s example.
Instead, he looked resigned, determined, and purposeful. There was a small tick in his jaw, which
was clenched tight, and his eyes were shuttered and wary. He held his mother’s hand in his left,
and his right was running back and forth over a seam in his robes, as though anxious to be near his
wand. Neither Malfoy looked happy about their houseguests or what was sure to happen this night.

Severus returned his full attention to the Dark Lord, who had been speaking throughout his short
moment of distraction.

“—is the night, that three of our own, our children, our future dedicate themselves to the cause.
Tonight is the night that we receive their pledge of loyalty.” He paused, and the Death Eaters
surrounding the table broke into eager applause. Bellatrix looked feverish in her enthusiasm. “And
what shall we give in return for this pledge?” The smile that slid across the Dark Lord’s snake-like
face chilled Severus, and he wanted to grab Draco and bolt. “The opportunity for honor beyond
any before them! A measure of service none has given before. The chance for some,” the Dark
Lord sent a look toward Draco, “to pull their family name up, out of the disgrace in which it
currently languishes.” A few of the Death Eaters seated around the table allowed themselves the
luxury of giggling at the Malfoy’s disgrace. Lucius and the others from the Ministry debacle had
not yet been retrieved from Azkaban, and the others were enjoying the family’s fall from favor.

The Dark Lord reached down and lifted his snake up to his shoulders, then sat back in his large
throne at the end of the table, and smirked at the assembled group. “Oh, yes,” he drawled, “ and a
mark of service. A physical representation of the greatness you take on this evening, young Draco,
Mr. Flint, Ms. Fawley.”

Severus sent a very level look at the other two of his students taking on the Dark Mark. Marcus
Flint, like his father, grandfather, brothers, and uncles before him, was not a surprise. Gemma
Fawley on the other hand, he had believed would rise above the stigma associated with her house.
He had recommended her as prefect, and hoped that she would temper the extremism all Slytherins
were surrounded by. Her family had long been neutral both in politics and in the wars that seemed
to recur without end in Wizarding Britain. He felt a sharp tug of disappointment in the girl, but
pressed it down with the rest of his emotions, hiding his true feelings behind a mask of
indifference.

He watched the branding of each teenager, inwardly lamenting as he heard them make their
promises of loyalty, obedience, and trust to the Dark Lord. So far, nothing so binding as a vow had
been required of any Death Eater, but they all knew the consequences of breaking the promises
made. The Dark Lord avoided unbreakable vows of service because he preferred to torture and kill
betrayers personally as a lesson and example for others, rather than have magic and life stripped
from them in one comparatively painless instant.

When Draco stepped forward and knelt before the Dark Lord, Severus locked his knees to prevent
himself from jumping forward to prevent the marking. He remembered holding the child when he
had been born, looking down into the blue/grey eyes and promising to protect the boy. He hadn’t
realized then that he would need to protect him from his own parents and their twisted ideals. He
had spent years, all the years of Draco’s life, guiding him, guarding him, healing the small hurts of
childhood, listening to stories filled with cuddly toys and action figures, and now, he stood witness
to the biggest mistake of the boy’s life and could do nothing to prevent it. He felt like a complete
failure.

Draco had screamed. Of course, he had. They all screamed when the magic branded them, when
they felt it polluting their souls, tying them to something corrupt. Flint, who had thought himself
strong and tough, had wept and cried out. Fawley, too, for all her deception and pretense had acted
as though she was dying. Draco had stepped forward deliberately, arranging his face into the
arrogant sneer of his father’s name and money, but he too had crumpled with a wail of agony.
These children of privilege, who had never known real evil before or any type of true pain, who
had been coddled and supported and permitted to believe themselves special, what could they
know of suffering? They would learn quickly, and it would not be a pleasant lesson.

After the marking, with the teenagers whimpering in the background, the most trusted were held
back for an additional short meeting. Severus took his place at Voldemort’s right hand. Draco had
moved to take his father’s place, but with a single cold look, he had been sent lower down the
table. Bellatrix was waved forward and took a simpering seat at the Dark Lord’s left.

“Severus,” the Dark Lord turned first to him.

“My Lord, all is quiet at Hogwarts at the moment, my colleagues want nothing more than to be
released for the summer holidays, however, I have news of Dumbledore.”

“Proceed,” came the order.

“He has sustained a debilitating injury to his wand hand,” Severus spoke softly but intently, a trick
he often used in the classroom to insure he had every student’s attention. “I do not know the origin
or nature of the injury, but it appears to be a curse. The entire arm appears dead, blackened and
shriveled. I believe it is all but unusable. He is still able to cast with that arm, but I do not believe
he will continue to do so. His movements are unstable, and his aim has become erratic.”

Severus was glad he was the one to bring this news to the Dark Lord, as he could give Voldemort
all the details that would soon become public knowledge, and not be questioned further once
someone else had provided the information. The Dark Lord began to cackle, a high breathy laugh
that chilled all who heard it.
“Has he indeed?” Voldemort’s mirth was intense and unpleasant. “That shall make our next moves
all the easier. This is the proof that victory will soon be within our hands, my loyal friends.
Severus, you are tasked with discovering as much as possible about this new development.
Whatever you can learn should be passed along.”

“Naturally, my Lord,” Severus offered up a deep bow, already thinking of what details could safely
be revealed.

The meeting moved on to news of the ministry changes, and Voldemort vented his frustrations
upon several others, whom Severus did not pity even slightly. They were reprehensible people
doing reprehensible things on raids of muggleborn homes. He was glad they had failed. Then,
Yaxley was tasked with exerting more control over the upper levels of the ministry, Rookwood
with the freeing of those taken to Azkaban after the ministry debacle. Severus would need to warn
Harry, but he could pretend to know nothing when speaking with Dumbledore.

Finally, Severus was walking out of the manor, and breathing a slow, steady sigh of relief. A
meeting in which he escaped being cursed was a good meeting in his opinion. He would have to
report to Dumbledore, which would no doubt take an hour or longer, but then he wanted nothing
more than a glass of whiskey. He might take it in the bath, and so cleanse himself of this night.
 7 July 1996

Two days later, Severus was as close to panic as he ever came. He had expected Nynniaw to return,
hopefully with another letter from Harry by the previous morning, noon at the very latest, and then
only if Harry decided to let him rest before sending him on another long journey. But even the
longest rest could not explain why his owl was still missing more than forty-eight hours after he
had sent the package.

He tried to tell himself that there could be many reasons for Nynniaw’s lateness. Perhaps Harry
had not been prepared for another letter and package so soon. Perhaps he hadn’t been home to
receive the package, and the owl had had to wait. Perhaps the owl had stopped along the way to
hunt or evade capture. Perhaps he had been captured. That was the most worrying potential
circumstance. Neither of their correspondence could stand the scrutiny of either side in this
miserable war. He knew he should have been more cautious. He wished that he had provided Harry
with some other way of getting into contact. He should have learned his lesson with Umbridge—
the security of owl post was not the best. So, he stewed and fretted over his missing love and his
missing owl.

A small part of him wouldn’t mind their liaison being discovered. He knew it was a foolish idea,
but he couldn’t help indulging in the fantasy. He didn’t long for the discovery so much as the
freedom that would be their reward later. He wanted to walk down the street arm in arm with
Harry, to kiss him in front of all the magical population of Britain, staking his claim over the Hero
of the Wizarding World. He wanted everyone to know that Harry was his, and perhaps a bit
vindictively, he hoped to see Miss Weasley’s face when she saw it. He knew the girl was no threat
to him. Harry couldn’t stand the grasping bint, but he still didn’t like her. Anyone who stooped to
love potions was beneath his contempt.

But discovery held other risks, as well. Dumbledore would become aware of his closeness with
Harry. The headmaster would be enraged that not only had he done something the old bastard had
not permitted nor scripted for his life, but that he had done it with the man’s golden boy.
Dumbledore treated Harry more like a trophy than a boy, and it pissed Severus off. It always had—
that comprised a good part of the reason for his treatment of Harry over the years. That and his
own blindness. If the headmaster should learn of their relationship, the man would threaten him
with Azkaban certainly. Perhaps he would be outed as a spy, perhaps just killed outright. But at
least with Dumbledore, if he survived the confrontation, he would be free of the man forever. He
had already packed up and cleaned out his office and labs, his new quarters held nothing of true
importance— it would simply be a matter of collecting Harry and leaving Britain.

If the Dark Lord discovered them, he would be tortured. It wasn’t a matter of if— torture was the
inevitable outcome of discovery by the Dark Lord. But he would not be killed outright. No, no, the
monster would keep him alive so he could be forced to watch Harry being tortured, perhaps raped.
He knew several death eaters who would eagerly take up the challenge of breaking the Chosen
One. For that reason alone, Severus kept his silence. He could tolerate many things— smiling at
Dumbledore over breakfast every morning, kissing the hem of a madman every time he was called,
offering instruction to ungrateful, careless children, who mocked his passion for potions— yes, he
tolerated a lot, but that would destroy him. He refused to watch the life and joy bleed out of Harry’s
body.

So, no. The time was not right for fantasies about a public love affair with the golden boy. But
someday. Someday his hand would be forced, someday the Dark Lord would learn of his betrayal
or Dumbledore would grow tired of his spy, and he would have to run, but until then, he would
maintain his cover and do his duty. He would love to leave the war behind. He knew Harry also
wanted out, and he hoped they could run together. He had had a bag packed and ready in the case
of an emergency since Harry had confirmed the Dark Lord’s resurrection after that disaster of a
tournament. The problem with needing to flee now would be getting to Harry quickly enough, but
he believed he could do it. Even if it meant his capture, he would make the attempt. He didn’t want
to run alone any more.

So, he paced and fretted and worried over both the boy and the owl, watching the clock as it slowly
ticked closer to morning.

He had reported the three new markings to Dumbledore, glad that he had long ago explained the
secrecy spells surrounding new recruits. He could not share their identities for any reason or in any
way. All the Death Eater names the Order had learned, they had learned from other sources. It had
been a major point of contention between himself and certain Order members— MadEye in
particular, but he maintained his secrecy. He reported on their plans, on the raids, on the Dark
Lord’s movements, and he certainly inferred certain things about people they already suspected,
but he had never outright provided the name of any Death Eater. He was glad of this protection, as
he now had a ready-made excuse not to share his godson’s name.

But of course that did not mean that the headmaster couldn’t guess it. The man was astute, and had
worked with the wards and the portraits of the castle to seem omniscient. He had always known
when a student had been marked, as soon as the child had returned to the castle. The wards were
designed to alert the headmaster to the presence of the Dark Lord’s mark and magic, not to expel
the student, but to track him or her. Albus would soon know exactly who had been marked, and
what that boy meant to Severus. The old man already knew that the boy had been assigned an
impossible task, so the mark on his arm would not be a surprise, but Severus wanted to protect the
boy he had cared for and watched over since birth, just a little longer. He knew that Draco would
be an adult soon, and he would have his own decisions and responsibilities to look after. But he
could offer two more years of childhood. He could at least try.

He had spent most of the day after the marking agonizing over a letter to Draco. He had included
several subtle hints about the impact of certain choices, the importance of standing firm in his
convictions, but then, settled on neutral things, encouraging the boy, in the absence of his father, to
take care of his mother, the manor, and his own education. He spent long paragraphs reminding
him of responsibilities, including the finishing of school before any major life decisions needed to
be made. He spent a long time describing painful choices, and the need to make them when faced
with untenable situations. It was like walking a tightrope. He had to avoid giving anything away of
his true alliances, while at the same time avoid sending him deeper into the Dark Lord’s hands,
keeping him out of Dumbledore’s hands, and avoiding anything that might result in the Ministry’s
jurisdiction. He ended with a call for Draco to be his own man, neither following blindly in his
father’s footsteps, nor becoming something he could not live with, but carefully considering each
choice and the consequences that attended it. The letter had been necessarily awkward and stilted,
but he had written it all the same. He had had to borrow one of the school owls in order to send it,
though.

And that thought brought him back to his missing owl and the fact that Harry had not replied to his
letter. He shook his head in disgust with himself. He was fretting. But why hadn’t the blasted boy
written back? He must know what Severus was feeling. Did he think Severus didn’t care? Was that
why? Perhaps this was some sort of punishment for failing to keep Harry out of the muggles’
hands. He just didn’t know any more.

He spent most of the day organizing his new offices. His first move had been to banish all the pink.
The kitten plates had been removed as Umbridge’s personal property, but the carpets were still
there, along with nauseating pink wallpaper, the spindly-legged pink desk, and a few horrific
cushions. He had sent it all into non-being, with a vengeful grin on his face. If only he could
banish the woman as well as her offensive furniture, but those spells didn’t work on living things.

Umbridge’s trial had resulted in several happy circumstances. One was the public outing of her
status as a half-blood with a muggle mother. Severus couldn’t care less, but the woman had been so
beastly about others’ heritage and had hidden her own family as if they were a dirty secret, that he
had been pleased for it to finally come to light. The trial had been resolved in the students’ favor,
and the entire Umbridge estate, not that it was much, had been liquidated in order to meet the steep
fine she would have to pay in recompense for torturing children. Fudge still held enough power to
prevent criminal charges from sticking, barely, but he had managed it. However, the financial
ramifications would spell the ruin of the woman. From what he had learned, even the damn kitten
plates had been auctioned off. He believed the Weasley twins had purchased them, although what
they intended to do with the monstrosities, he had no idea.

He glanced around the new rooms he had been banished to. In his previous office, he had
established his presence with dim lighting and storage of the more disgusting ingredients he used.
He wasn’t quite sure how to manage it in this new place. The lighting was an issue, as the room
was practically surrounded with large windows. He wouldn’t be able to store the phials and phials
of pickled and preserved things without the sunlight ruining them. He eventually decided to
decorate with bookshelves in the hope that students would be intimidated by the potential
knowledge surrounding them. He could also nearly block out the windows with his shelves, and
the books would add clouds of dust when they were picked up. The atmosphere wouldn’t be the
same, but he hoped it would be off putting enough to discourage many visitors.

He arranged the classroom to showcase the effects of the darker spells he intended to teach. He had
compiled photo and artistic renderings of people suffering under a variety of curses, hexes, and
jinxes, even a dark ritual or two. He believed it would be both educational, as well as help cement
his reputation as one of the more strict and vindictive teachers on staff. He couldn’t afford to have
any more of the students questioning his status as repugnant dungeon bat. Harry knew, and
apparently so did Granger, and that was quite enough. Outside of Slytherin House, he needed to
maintain his reputation as a nasty bastard.

He had endured meals in the Great Hall, accompanied by the Headmaster and his ever-present
injury. The man practically flaunted the withered arm, and the great bastard seemed to relish the
attention it brought him. Had he once accused Harry of being attention-seeking, he rolled his eyes
skyward as Dumbledore again hinted at a “dramatic and thrilling tale” he wished to do justice to.
He had never been so wrong about both of them. He had actually once thought Dumbledore to be
the epitome of humble greatness. More fool he.

He barely touched his meal, so distracted was he glancing skyward every so often, still hoping that
his owl would return quickly. As the day wore on and Nynniaw remained absent, he grew more
and more concerned.

Finally, Severus collapsed onto the sofa, and summoned his decanter of whiskey. He would have to
resign himself to not knowing what had happened until the morning. Not having answers had
always bothered him, but he had learned through painful instruction not to show his hand too early.
Blasting into Surrey, wand blazing, and curses flying might be extremely satisfying, but it would
also cause rather a lot of problems he would prefer to avoid.

He moved to the desk, deciding to take Harry’s example and compose an ongoing letter which he
would send when he could, or perhaps deliver in person if the opportunity arose.
Fy Anwylaf,

I have not heard back from you, and have spent the day fretting like an old woman. Please, if you
can, assure me you are well, even if only to keep me from embarrassing myself in front of the staff.
They have, of course, noticed my odd behavior, but I have managed to pass it off as worry over the
Dark Lord’s revival.

You have asked me to pass along news, and finally, I have some. The Dark Lord has finally called
me to a meeting. I cannot know whether it is the first since the ministry. He does not always call
everyone, but this meeting was a day of ‘celebration.’ He is making some progress in the ministry,
but mercifully, not as swiftly as he would like.

Raids are picking up, and he is spreading fear amongst the muggles and muggleborn. Truthfully,
they would be foolish not to be afraid. He is targeting current muggleborn students and their
parents. I worry for your Ms. Granger. If you communicate with her, please advise her to use all
caution. Her position as your close friend paints a large target on her, and her parents’ house is
indefensible as performing any magic on a muggle residence has long been outlawed as part of the
Misuse of Muggle Artifacts mandate.

I am sorry to tell you that the dementors have joined his cause, and have been given freedom to
breed, thus all the mists and fogs in this strangely cold summer. Please use caution if you leave the
house. They are staying primarily within London, as the higher population density allows them
greater hunting and feeding, but if you are caught, you are within your rights to defend yourself—
as you no doubt remember. Keep your wand close, beloved.

He has marked three new recruits, one of whom will be returning to Hogwarts. I worry over this
development as it places both that student and the castle at large in danger. I know there is little
you can do for him, but I would be in your debt if you could keep a close watch. At the very least,
your interactions would go unnoticed as you frequently antagonize one another. I know your
rivalry has been largely a show, at least on your part, but I suspect on his as well. He wanted to
befriend you so badly, but knew nothing of true friends and had only poor examples to follow. I
don’t make excuses for his rudeness, but I would like you to know that there may be an opportunity
to start afresh, despite current circumstances.

I believe that those whom you helped send to Azkaban will soon be at liberty once again. Whether
this is reported or not, I cannot say. It’s entirely possible that the new regime will keep it quiet in
order to maintain the public’s confidence. Please be on your guard, especially as the “blood
wards” are no true help to you.

I wish I had better news for you. I would rather you be disillusioned and knowledgeable than
uninformed and at risk of manipulations or unpleasant surprises. You are always— always— on
my mind, beloved. It’s becoming rather tiresome, to tell you the truth. I have found myself behaving
(and worse thinking!) like a smitten teenager. I know you may have trouble believing it, but there it
is. There are hearts in my eyes, and you have put them there. I may have to assign you detentions
as retribution for so thoroughly stealing my sanity along with my heart.

Severus had finished his letter for the evening, but didn’t add a salutation. He hoped that Nynniaw
would return soon, and he could burn the damn thing. No one need know about his insecurities or
foolishness. However, if not, he would continue the letter when there was more to share with his
Harry. He folded the parchment and set it in a locked, warded, and boobytrapped drawer of his
desk, then he returned to the sofa, where he sat, determinedly not waiting for the blasted owl to
show up, and stared into the fireplace.

Still the minutes and hours ticked by, slower than ever. Finally, in the hour before dawn, Severus’
head fell back against the arm of the sofa and his eyes slipped shut.
 8 July 1996
Chapter Notes

TW: descriptions of injuries resulting from severe child abuse and very vague allusion
to sexual assault. Avoid the paragraphs marked with a dash if these things bother you

See the end of the chapter for more notes

As yet another day dawned without news of Harry or his owl, Severus had had enough. He
gathered a small collection of healing potions, along with antiseptic and bandages, and slipped the
small pouch into one of his many pockets, and set out for the great hall. Whether by Dumbledore
waylaying him, or his own caution giving him pause, he would not be put off again.

During breakfast, he informed Dumbledore that an acquaintance had requested his urgent
collaboration on a trial-potion brewing mishap, and he requested leave to go. He further told the
headmaster that his classroom and offices were prepared for the new year, the Slytherin common
room had been closed down for the summer, and he had been spending most of his time reading
and reviewing notes, which he could easily do from his friend’s lab or at home.

Dumbledore had frowned and wondered at the anonymous acquaintance, but ultimately
acquiesced. He attempted to make Severus feel guilty, but with all his Hogwarts-related work
complete, and Harry’s life in the balance, there were no guilty feelings to manipulate.

He stalked down the long drive toward the apparition point and transfigured his robe into a long
coat, hoping that the mists and fogs of the unusual summer would make it less strange in the
muggle world. He apparated to several points around the country, including Diagon Alley and
Tower Bridge before he finally stopped in a shadowy corner of Privet Drive.

He watched the house from behind a bus shelter at the end of the quiet street. A truly enormous
man, with a terrible looking mustache and a bright red face left the house, and got into a large,
luxury car. Severus raised an eyebrow as the entire automobile tilted toward the driver’s side as the
man sat, and he wondered if the weight differential affected the steering or alignment of the
vehicle. He was about to walk closer, when the door opened again, and he watched an older
Petunia Evans yell through the open door at someone, and then she too stepped out of the house.
She had not aged well. Stress lines ringed her lips, and the skin around her neck had begun to
wrinkle and sag. Her eyes darted around at all the other houses, before she got into her own smaller
car.

Severus realized that the only people who might still be in the house were Harry and his cousin,
although he supposed there might also be a guest, but it was unlikely. He disillusioned himself
while still at a distance from the house, and then walked quickly up the street. He could manage
basic spells and simple charms wandless, but anything stronger, and he would need to use the wand
to cast. That would register the magic with the Ministry and risk Harry getting the blame.

He stepped through the wards, and they felt odd to him. He knew Dumbledore used the excuse of
protective wards based upon Lily’s life sacrifice, but this did not feel like Lily’s magic. Frowning,
he moved to the door, and pressed his palm against the area under the deadbolt. He felt the lock
give way and quietly, slowly opened the door.
He stepped into the cleanest, most sterile front hall he had ever seen. A staircase branched off to
the right, and he could hear loud snores coming from that direction. On his left was a sitting room,
equally as pristine as the hall and bearing no evidence whatsoever of the teenager he had come to
find. He considered the door he knew led to a cupboard. Harry had spent his childhood in there, he
knew from the occlumency lessons, but now he would be upstairs if he wasn’t working in the
kitchen. He made a quick check just in case, although no sounds were coming from either space.

He crept quietly upstairs, not wanting to wake the cousin, and he couldn’t stop the smirk at the
sight of a door covered in locks. So, the muggles thought to lock the big bad wizard up? Well, he
happened to agree that Harry was dangerous, but where these pathetic muggles saw a threat, he saw
power, protection, kindness, and pure seduction. He wanted to blast the damn door off its hinges,
but he knew better. Every single lock offended him, but he held on to his temper with both hands
and methodically pushed his magic into each one, relaxing and freeing the tumblers and urging the
pins free.

What he saw on the other side of the door had him spitting curses. His Harry lay in filth on a bed
with two obviously broken legs, drifting in and out of consciousness. His fingers appeared to be
mangled, half of them were purple with fresh bruises, some of them bent at unnatural angles,
fingernails torn and bleeding. His left shoulder had been dislocated. His right eye was swollen shut
and blood oozed from under the lid. His left eye also showed fresh bruises, occasionally rolling
open and staring around the room. He had lost a tooth, and his lip had been split gruesomely.
Severus wasn’t sure he wanted to know what lay under his clothing.

Nynniaw shuffled out from under the lopsided bed with a chicken sandwich in his beak and hopped
up next to the pillow. Harry tried to smile at the determined owl, showing off bloodied teeth and a
bitten tongue. The bird dropped the sandwich in front of Harry’s face and turned an angry glance
toward Severus. At his admonishing hoot, Severus jumped into motion.

He strode boldly toward the bed, pulling out potions as he walked. He couldn’t risk a diagnostic
charm, so he settled for a high level healing potion and a pepper up, to jump start the healing and
get Harry clear headed.

“Harry?” He spoke sharply but kept his voice quiet. “Harry! I need you to tell me if you’ve had a
back or neck injury. I’ll get you out of here, but I won’t risk your spine.”

“Sev’us?” The boy mumbled, “Sev. S’you?”

Severus softened. “Yes, Harry. I’m here.” He lay his hand across the only unblemished part of
Harry’s face he could see.

“You came,” Harry tried to smile, and Severus’ heart stuttered.

“Shh,” he murmured, “You’ll be okay, I promise. But you need to tell me if they hit your neck or
back?”

“Nah, s’okay,” Harry slurred. “Jus’ lashes.”

Severus grit his teeth to stop the reaction he felt at that news. “Okay, Harry. Okay. I’m going to
give you some Dreamless Sleep. Don’t fight it. You need to be unconscious for this, or the pain
will overwhelm you. What should I pack? You’re never coming back here.”
“Trunk’s in th’cupb’rd. Also under the bed. Owl knows.” Harry’s lucidity was fading, but Severus
had a very clever owl.

Nynniaw shuffled back under the bed, and by the time Severus had knelt to see, he had pecked the
loose floorboard enough to unsettle it, and Severus was able to reach in. He found Harry’s wand,
cloak, photo album, a small stash of letters and the two packages he had sent. He quickly settled
the items in his various pockets, and sat up.

He leaned close and brushed back the hair sticking to Harry’s sweaty forehead. He pressed a kiss
there and held a phial up to Harry’s mouth. “I’m sorry. The potion will likely hurt going down, but
you need to take it. I have your treasures and will recover your trunk.”

Harry grimaced as he swallowed the potion and then fell back into a deep sleep. It was the best
Severus could manage at the moment. He couldn’t risk a Draught of Living Death because he
wasn’t sure when he would need Harry conscious again. It was likely to be soon, and the Draught
would require precise measurements and calculations. There just wasn’t the time. He sent Nynniaw
off to Spinner’s End, gathered Harry into his arms, and crept back to the cupboard under the stairs.
He dealt with the locks in the same way he had upstairs, and soon had all of Harry’s belongings.

He had to think carefully for a moment, about the consequences of removing Harry. He wouldn’t
put it past Dumbledore to have some monitoring charms on either Harry’s belongings or Harry
himself. If he used a wand to detect the damn things, the magic would register at the Ministry, and
the last thing he needed was aurors sticking their noses into this. He knew Dumbeldore had that
squib, Figg, nearby though, and presumably magic would occasionally happen within her
residence. He would simply need to get close, while carrying an unconscious boy and a trunk,
without attracting any attention from the neighbors or the muggle police.

He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, and pulled out Harry’s invisibility cloak. That would have
to do. He still felt extremely conspicuous, but as he passed the muggle homes, wives kissing
husbands off to work, husbands picking up newspapers and post, children off to play at a nearby
park, not one of them paid him any attention at all.

Once he reached Wisteria Walk, he paused just long enough to transfer the tracking charms he
found on Harry’s trunk, school robes, and photo album, to several of Mrs. Figg’s cats, and then
apparated directly to a rocky peak near Glyder Fawr, a mountain peak in Wales. From there, he
took them up to Manchester, and then, finally, to the muggle entrance of St. Mungo’s.

Severus was a potions master, not a healer. He could easily brew what potions Harry might need,
but diagnosing them, beyond a basic field-level first aid, was beyond his skills. He needed
someone with training. He had briefly considered Poppy Pomfrey, but although he was confident
that she would want to help Harry and would be outraged at his condition, he also didn’t want
Harry anywhere near Albus Dumbledore.

He knew better than to approach the Welcome Witch’s desk for help. He was known to many in
St. Mungo’s as a potions master and as a selfless donor of his time and skill when a patient needed
specialized medicines, but he still bore the Dark Lord’s mark. Showing up with a battered and
near-dead Boy-Who-Lived in his arms could only result in a nice long stay in Azkaban with no
twinkly-eyed headmaster speaking on his behalf this time. He slipped through the crowd and down
the hall to the lifts.

There was only one healer in the whole place he would trust with Harry’s life and his freedom in
the balance. He jabbed the button for the first floor, hoping that Healer Honeycutt could be
reached.
Julius Honeycutt had attended at Beauxbatons, and graduated three years before Severus left
Hogwarts. They met when Severus was working at his mastery, and Honeycutt needed assistance
with the potions section of the healer exams. Honeycutt had offered him much needed galleons to
serve as a tutor, and then hadn’t minded Severus’ sarcasm or cutting remarks. Indeed, he gave as
good as he got. In turn, when Severus needed patching up after a cauldron blew up a rather touchy
poison he’d been crafting for the Dark Lord, he had contacted Honeycutt, who asked no questions,
but administered antidotes and pain relief alongside snarky remarks about loyalty. As far as
Severus knew, the man had no love for Dumbledore or the Dark Lord, accepting and healing his
patients with equal attention and skill regardless of their supposed political leanings.

Their friendship had developed slowly, but it had developed. Severus found his way swiftly to the
man’s office, and tapped on the door.

Honeycutt had a confused look on his face as he opened his office to find empty space in front of
him, but felt someone brush past him. He drew his wand, but Severus was already removing
Harry’s cloak, and putting his precious burden down on a sofa, off to the side of the small room.

“Julius,” he began, “I desperately need your help.”

“Obviously.” Honeycutt rolled his eyes, and Severus went to say more, but the man already had his
wand out, working diagnosis charms on Harry. The healer drawled, “I’ve been telling you that for
years, Severus.” He stepped closer to his patient and raised an eyebrow. “Mind explaining why
you are showing up in my office, invisible, and with a half-dead Chosen One in your arms?”

Severus sighed, “I’d rather not.” Honeycutt shot him a look that convinced him to say more, “He’s
been forced to live with extraordinarily abusive muggles. In his own words, they have whipped,
burned, confined, cut, stabbed, tased, beaten, starved, and raped him.” He watched the healer
flinch. “I knew he would have to return there this summer, so I sent healing potions and food. You
know both of the men I answer to, Julius. Even if you have the luxury of no political alliances, I am
bound to both the giant arseholes of the magical world. I thought it would be enough, but obviously
not. When I didn’t hear from him for several days, I lied to my boss and stole the Boy Who Lived.
If anyone learns of his whereabouts,” Severus’ voice trailed away as the repercussions filled him
with horror. “Julius, please. Please help him.”

“Of course I will, stop your whinging.” Honeycutt smirked at him. “I always wondered what sort
of person you’d fall for.”

Severus did not splutter. Nor did he blush. Much.

“Severus, I’m going to set him up in a warded, private room. You and I will be the only ones with
admittance, but it’s going to be a while before he’s back on his feet. The wounds are a piece of
cake, but he’s fighting off two different types of infection at the moment. And Severus,”
Honeycutt paused and reached a hand out as though to hold Severus’ shoulder, but then thought
better of touching the man. Severus could only be grateful. “He’s also got some internal injuries.”

“Internal?” It took a full two minutes of silence before Severus grasped what the healer was telling
him. “Oh fucking bloody fuck.”

“That about sums it up, yes.” Honeycutt did put a hand on Severus’ shoulder this time, but removed
it when he felt Severus tense. “Let’s get him in that room and cleaned up. I’ll need a run down on
what all you’ve already given him.”

The two worked together to set up the wards on Harry’s private exam room. They removed his torn
and filthy clothing, sparking another run of foul language from both men, and then Julius started
the healing spell work as Severus filled a basin with warm water and an antiseptic potion to clean
Harry of the blood and dirt that covered him.

It was hours before Harry was clean, dressed in soft pajamas, and as healed as he could get, with a
course of antibiotic potions, pain relief, and a grand wiggenweld, Healer Honeycutt left Severus
sitting by Harry’s bedside, and he went on his rounds. Harry was blessedly, still asleep, and
Severus was beginning to nod off as well, as the quiet and peace of the hospital room surrounded
him. It had been a long day, and he had no idea what was waiting for him at Hogwarts. He hadn’t
given Dumbledore a timeline, though, so he would not be leaving till Harry had stabilized.

“Sev?” A quiet voice from next to him brought him out of his doze. He came awake and alert all in
a single moment, his wand snapping into his palm, but something held on to his left hand, and he
glanced over. He flicked his wand and the time appeared. It was the middle of the night. He
pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced around the hospital room as the last few hours came
into focus. Harry. Taking him from the Dursleys. His wild dance across Britain, and finally the
hospital. He took a deep breath.

“You’re going to be okay.” Severus brushed hair back from Harry’s brow, and felt the boy lean
into the gentle touch. A small smile hit his face. “You’re hurt, and it will take time to heal, but
you’ll get better.”

A frown crossed Harry’s face. His voice was full of gravel and his eyes watered slightly, but he
forced the word out, “Where?”

“St. Mungo’s.” Severus saw panic bloom, so he hastened to add, “No one but me and a healer I
trust know you’re here. I doubt the Dursleys know you’re gone yet, and will not have had time to
notify anyone, if they even have the inclination to do so. I borrowed your cloak, and so no one saw
us arrive. The healer has maintained strict neutrality in the war. He is someone I have known since
before I left Hogwarts.”

Harry was shaking his head. “Tracking. Me.”

“Not any longer,” Severus sent him an amused glance. “Dumbledore is now keeping a very close
watch on four of Mrs. Figg’s cats.” He saw a teasing light reach Harry’s eyes, and watched as his
body relaxed back into the bed.

“Sev,” Harry smiled up at him, filling Severus with wonder. No one had ever looked at him like
that. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Harry’s brow, avoiding the bruises still
blooming around both eyes and the split lip. “My Sev. Came storming in after all?”

“Well, I had to check on the owl, anyway,” he teased, and watched Harry’s forehead wrinkle in
confusion. “Didn’t you know? I sent a letter with your blood replenishers and a few other things.”
He saw Harry nod and felt relieved that the letter had at least made it that far. “Well, I guess Nyn
saw how miserable you were and stayed behind to watch out for you. When I came storming in, he
was trying to feed you a chicken sandwich.”

“Good owl.” Harry’s eyes were drooping.

Severus nodded and lifted Harry’s healed hand to his lips. There was still some bruising, but the
bones had been realigned and the fingernails repaired. He would never get the image out of his
head, though. Seeing the broken and pain riddled body of the man he loved would haunt him for
the rest of his days. He pressed small kisses to each of Harry’s fingers, and settled his insides.
Merlin. He loved Harry. In less than a month, was that even possible? He wanted to ignore the
weakness and hide from his feelings, but deep inside, there was no denying the truth. He felt
 Harry’s hand slide from his grasp and curl around his cheek.

“My Sev,” came the raspy voice. “My hero.” The words were beyond infantile, but the tone of
them carried weight and the look in his eyes mirrored Severus’ own feelings.

“Sleep, Harry.” He turned his face to press a kiss into Harry’s palm. “You’re safe, and your body
needs rest. Sleep.”

“Hmm, ‘kay,” Harry’s eyes slipped shut, but before he dropped off completely, came the words, on
the breath of a sigh, “love you.” But he was asleep before Severus could gather his wits.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading thus far. I’ll do my best to post occasionally over the next week or
so, but I can’t make promises. I’m traveling and I’ll be busy. See you in the new year
for sure.
 9 July 1996

The next morning, the doctor came bustling in with two trays of food. He had been delivering all of
Severus’ meals and Harry’s potions himself, taking on the duties of nurse, assistant, and healer
himself in order to keep their refuge safe. Severus looked over the trays. His contained a portion of
porridge with fruit and cream, and Harry’s a bit of clear broth. Both were given a pot of tea, but
Harry would not be allowed milk and only a single cube of sugar.

Harry roused at the smell of Severus’ breakfast, and blinked open his eyes. Severus watched as
they honed in immediately on the unknown man in the room, assessing him as a threat. He knew
that the watchfulness came as a result of never feeling safe, and that it might never fade.

“Harry, I should like to introduce Julius Kase Honeycutt, healer of St. Mungo’s. He is the man I
was telling you about earlier. Jules, this is Harry Potter, Chosen One, Golden Boy, Boy-Who-
Lived, Boy Hero, Dumbledore’s protege, and the Last Best Hope of the Wizarding World, if you
read the Prophet.” He grinned as he listed each of Harry’s unwanted titles, watching Harry’s scowl
become more prominent with each one.

“I’m just Harry,” the teenager coughed out, and rolled his eyes. “So. What’s up, Doc?” Severus
muffled his snort of laughter, but Healer Honeycutt had no such qualms and grinned widely.

“Been waiting to use that one, have you?” The man grinned at Harry, liking him immediately. He
handed over a thick, pale purple potion, and nodded at the boy to take it. “For your voice. It will
stop the pain.” Harry glanced quickly at Severus, who nodded, and then he downed the potion
without a single grimace. That took fortitude, the throat coating potion not only tasted vile, the
action of soothing and smoothing over the torn places was a strange sensation.

Honeycutt nodded approvingly. He was not blind to the dynamic between his old friend and this
teenager. He had been skeptical of everything from their age gap and life experiences to their
supposed sides in the war, but perhaps he had been wrong about all that.

“Just give it to me straight. Will I ever tap dance again?” Harry carried on. Severus knew it was a
way to distance reality and put off the inevitable listing of ailments, but he understood the impulse.

“Were you able to before?” The healer raised an eyebrow.

Harry attempted a shrug, “No, but it’d be something to fill my empty hours, wouldn’t it?”

Honeycutt sighed but smiled and nodded, “I suppose so. But now, young man, I have a report on
your health. As its your health and your business, I will happily kick Severus out of the room,
should you wish it.”

The look of pure rage on Harry’s face startled even Severus, who had been planning on making a
graceful exit to allow Harry his privacy. “Try it,” the teenager snarled. “Sev stays.”

Honeycutt seemed to have realized his mistake and held both his hands up to calm Harry. “As you
say. I have no objection.”

They both turned eyes on him, and Severus settled back into his chair, “Whatever Harry wishes, of
course.”

Harry nodded, and Severus felt an inward twist of amusement he was careful not to show.
“Alright then, Harry,” The doctor began, “We have healed as much of the damage as we could
within the time, and as far as we could discover it. That means, all of the current bone breaks are
healed, the damage to your spleen was repaired, the superficial cuts have been treated, the bruises
are undergoing healing, and the open lashes on your back are knitting back together. Your back
had become infected, so the healing there is slightly slower going than the rest. You are currently
on a course of antibiotic potions, pain relief, bone strengthening, and nutritive potions. Just in case,
I performed a health history diagnosis. I couldn’t find any records of you being here— ever— so it
was necessary. You are slowly recovering from childhood malnourishment. Your bones lack the
proper density, and thus snap easier than they should. You also have several breaks that have
mishealed. I suspect that not only have you not been to St. Mungo’s, you have not been to a muggle
healer either?” He raised his eyebrows in question and received a tiny shake of the boy’s head as he
glanced away. “You are missing all your childhood and infant vaccinations, both muggle and
magical, so you’ll need to take those potions as well. As Severus can tell you, the adult recipes are
not quite as effective as the infant versions, so there is still a risk of certain diseases or illnesses.”

The healer glanced at Harry to see how he was taking the news. He had treated abused children
before this, and he knew that hearing all the wrongs committed against them listed at once
frequently brought on withdrawal or temper spikes. Not so with this boy. He lay on the bed, one
hand gripping Severus, the other fisted into the blanket on his far side, his face stoically blank.

Gauging his patient’s ability to cope, he decided to forge ahead, “Harry, I also saw evidence of
repeated sexual assault, so I ran several scans.” He saw Harry’s breathing pick up slightly, and
heard Severus’ teeth grind together. “You are free of any muggle STIs, so that is, at the very least,
a relief. I do need to know whether your assailant was magical or muggle, though, Harry.”

“Muggle.” Harry ground the answer out through clenched teeth. He hated talking about that part of
his life.

Honeycutt nodded, “Well, the internal trauma has been healed. If you ever feel the need of
someone to talk with for help regarding the mental and emotional issues, I am available to you day
or night. I have both the muggle therapy license as well as the magical mind-healer certificate, and
I have spoken with others in similar situations. It’s not a requirement to a healthy or fulfilling future
life, and some survivors feel no need to ever speak to someone, but there is no shame in seeking
the help if you need it, either. That goes for both of you.” He glanced up at Severus, who he knew
would be having a difficult time hearing about what Harry had endured.

Honeycutt bit his lip. He knew the next two things were going to cause problems, and he wasn’t
sure how either man in front of him would take the news. “I have only two other things to discuss
regarding your health, Harry, but they are rather big issues. Rest assured, neither is life threatening,
at least not in the normal way, but both are potentially life changing.”

Neither man reacted, but he knew he had their undivided attention. “First, the bad news, then. The
scans I ran detected a number of potions and spells I believe you were unaware of. They were all
intended to skew your loyalties toward Albus Dumbledore and some of his known allies. There
was also a strong concentration of love potion geared toward the youngest Weasley child.
However, I suspect that it was ineffective for a number of reasons.”

At this, Harry snorted, “very ineffective.”

“Quite,” Honeycutt smiled, slightly. Love potions were not illegal, but he found them tantamount
to rape all the same. This boy had had enough of his will stolen from him. “All love potions will
create a feeling of obsession for their target, but cannot create true emotions, nor can they
manipulate attraction. If, for example, you are not attracted to women in general, no woman would
be able to effectively dose you with a love potion. I suspect you have been thinking about the girl
in question, but your thoughts are not positive?”

Harry shook his head, exasperated, but glad at least for the protection of his own sexuality. Thank
Merlin there weren’t potions to change that. Or were there? He glanced at Severus, who merely
brought his hand up to his lips for another kiss.

Honeycutt wasn’t finished with the bad news, though. “We also found a bind on your magic. The
origin is near the famous scar, but it spreads to your magical core, and has limited your abilities to
cast at full power. I calculated you are only working with around 40% of your true capabilities.”

“What?” Harry gasped. That old bastard! How had he managed that, and why? “Do you have
evidence of who did that to me?”

“No,” Honeycutt looked down, “although there are clues. The scar came first— and we still have
to talk about that. The bind second, and it was created over the course of several years, so it would
have been someone of substantial magical power, who had access to you during your formative
years.”

Severus looked murderous. “That narrows it down considerably.”

“Indeed.” Honeycutt murmured. He had always hated Dumbledore and Voldemort equally. He
thought people needed freedom, not the vicious mindless obedience Voldemort demanded, nor the
naive mindless obedience Dumbledore required. Despite their different ideals and goals for the
magical world, Honeycutt considered both men’s methods reprehensible.

“What about the scar?” Severus’ voice was dark and full of malice.

Honeycutt ran a hand through his hair. “The scar holds a lingering residue of dark magic, the likes
of which I have not ever seen in my professional career. However, I did my medical training in
Greece, where dark magic is not quite as stigmatized as it is here. The scar, at one time, contained
what is known as a horcrux. A small one, but its presence is unmistakable. I have never in my life
heard of a human or indeed any type of living horcrux, so I’ve no idea how it has been removed,
but I can tell you it’s not there any longer. You’ll want to undergo a cleansing ritual to remove the
trace magic, but otherwise, you’re fine. The scar will probably linger simply because you’ve had it
so long, though.”

Severus looked worried but uncertain, while Harry maintained a stoic mask. Severus asked the
question Honeycutt seemed to be waiting for, “What is a horcrux? I’ve never heard of it.”

Honeycutt explained, “A horcrux is foul magic, using the murder of an innocent to cleave off a
portion of the murderer’s soul. That portion of soul can then be placed in an object. As long as the
object remains whole, the horcrux will keep the rest of the soul from moving on. It’s a repugnant
form of immortality.”

Horrified, Severus’ thoughts spun wildly, making connections and drawing conclusions from this
new data. “And, my Harry had one of these things in him?” He glanced up and saw the healer nod.
“But it’s gone now?” Another nod. “What does a person do to get rid of a horcrux? I’m guessing
binning the thing wouldn’t work?” He ignored Harry’s rolling eyes and disgruntled huff.

“No, it would need to be put beyond any possibility of magical repair— utterly sent into nonbeing.
Fiendfyre would do it, possibly some venoms, perhaps the fire of an Ashwinder, but I couldn’t be
positive.”
“Basilisk venom?” Severus knew Harry was trying for an innocent expression, but he also knew
the boy far too well to believe it. He snorted.

“That would definitely do it.” Honeycutt nodded.

“Right, well. The thing is,” Harry began slowly, and raised unamused eyes at Severus. “I already
knew about it. After the Chamber, the old man told me I had a ‘connection’ to He-Who-Must-Be-
Hyphenated and that the bastard ‘transferred some of his powers over to me’ the night he tried to
kill me. A friend and I started researching because we figured that a connection to the Bald Bastard
would be bad news. Horcruxes weren’t easy to find information on, human horcruxes even more
tricky— but, well,” he glanced up at Severus and smirked, “my friend is tenacious and I have quite
the vault at my disposal. I also managed to spend the summer after my second year in relative
freedom hanging about the magical alleys. We read about it in an old Phoenician scroll she found
on a holiday with her parents that year.” He smiled rather smugly at knowing something the healer
didn’t. “It’s taken care of,” he ran a hand over the scar on his arm. “Basilisk bit me when I was
twelve. Must’ve been about three-four minutes and things got really dark. When I could see again,
a phoenix was crying on the wound.” Honeycutt didn’t know what to react to, and Severus thought
his expression shifting between awe and horror was entertaining. But Harry wasn’t finished. “He
must have known about the thing, and frankly, no wonder he wants me dead. He can’t have figured
out that it’s already gone” Honeycutt frowned, but Severus knew Harry was speaking of
Dumbledore not Voldemort. Harry looked up at the healer, “Do you think the residue could have
affected me or my magic at all?”

“I do not know. I doubt it, but I will begin the research immediately.”

Severus looked thoughtful. “What about the rest of it? The loyalty potions and love potions and
things. Will a standard purging potion work?”

“Ah,” Honeycutt smiled. “And that brings me to the second surprise in your medical report.
Hopefully, this one is better news.”

Severus could see Harry bracing for the shock. He knew that Harry was made of stern stuff, but
there were only so many body blows a person could take before shutting down completely. He
worried that Harry was nearing his limit, and he moved to sit next to him on the bed. He leaned his
back against the headboard, and scooped Harry close to him.

“Harry,” the man took Severus’ abandoned chair, which allowed him to meet Harry’s eyes on a
more even level. “Have you been dealing with stomach cramps lately?”

“Yeah?” It sounded more like a question than an answer. “Maybe the last three or four days, I
guess. I figured that the Dursleys had put ground glass in my food. They’ve done it before. I know
it can be fatal, but my magic has always healed me faster than I could bleed out.”

Severus held Harry tighter, and leaned close to press a kiss to his hair. The idea of losing Harry,
especially to such a brutal, meaningless death filled him with despair.

“No, they didn’t do that. At least, not this time,” the healer was also outraged at the idea of Harry’s
relatives torturing him. “There’s no way to ease in to this topic, really, so I’ll have to just say it
outright. Harry, you are pregnant, and only a wizard with rather strong magic could possibly be the
other father. It’s one of the reasons I asked about your attacker. This child is definitely not the
product of your assaults.” Honeycutt smiled at both of them. He didn’t need everything spelled
out for him. It was plain to see the feelings between the two men.

Harry had immediately raised a protective hand to his stomach and stared down at himself.
Severus’ arm tightened around him, as he glanced at the healer for an explanation. He had never
heard of such a thing. “What do you mean, he is pregnant? He’s male, for Merlin’s sake!”

Honeycutt just kept smiling at them, and Severus was considering hexing him stupid if he didn’t
get some answers soon. The healer seemed to catch his mood, and spoke quickly, “Yes, Harry is
definitely male. He is also definitely up the duff. It’s not particularly well known, but it has
happened before. Unfortunately, it’s been a while. The last recorded male pregnancy was Merlin.”

“Merlin?” Harry’s voice was breathy. “My baby’s another Merlin?”

Severus turned to him and took in the wondering happiness all over his face. Harry’s smile was
filled with secrets, and his eyes had softened around the sides. He was softly stroking over his
abdomen. “ Our baby.”

Harry’s smile brightened, and he met Severus’ eyes, “Our baby.” He tilted his face up for a kiss,
which Severus was happy to provide.

Honeycutt cleared his throat, and they turned back. Severus was blushing slightly, but Harry
simply beamed at him. “Based on your reactions, I’m assuming that not only is Severus the father,
but you’re planning on carrying the child?” He got a happy nod from Harry. “Very well, I’ve
already been giving you the pregnancy safe versions of the potions you’re on. There are a few
tweaks from the usual recipes, but Severus undoubtedly knows how to handle that. As to your
earlier question about the purging potions, I’m afraid they’re just not safe. We don’t know, but it’s
entirely possible they would see the child’s magic as foriegn and work to expel it. But, since it
doesn’t seem that the loyalty or love potions have worked, I believe they will stay dormant until
you can safely purge them after the child is born. Same with the cleansing ritual for your scar.”

They both nodded. Severus knew there was nothing on this earth that would make Harry risk his
child. He felt the same way.

Honeycutt could see the determination on both of their faces. He smiled softly. They would make
such good parents. “There are a few key differences between male and female pregnancy. The bare
truth of the matter is that we don’t know much about it. There are precious few records of any sort
from the time of Merlin. We know that Merlin fathered a child with his male partner, and kept
documentation on some of the health developments, but refused to name either the child or the
partner for their own safety.” He shrugged. “What we do know is that male pregnancy will last a
full year. In the first three months, abdominal cramping will become quite severe as your organs
will be rearranging slightly to accommodate for the womb you’re growing.”

Harry’s nose scrunched up slightly at that idea, and the healer chuckled. “Well, you weren’t born
with the parts, so you’ll be doing it the hard way. Once you’re past that stage, my best guess is that
the pregnancy will mirror what females go through— you’ll have 4-5 months of nausea and
cravings, then will come the swollen ankles and back ache. You’ll be peeing more frequently.
Blood pressure can spike and cause problems. The works. I’ll get you a list of a couple different
books that will outline what you can expect in more detail.”

“Um,” Harry sounded hesitant. “How does the birth happen? I mean—getting it out of me? Um,
you know?”

Honeycutt nodded and smiled, “Yes, I know. You won’t be giving birth the same way you’ve read
about. The child will be removed surgically in a Roman or Caesarean birth. Unfortunately, while
there’s no actual ‘labor’ per se, there is rather a lot of pain. That’s what will let you know it’s time
to get to the hospital. Any other questions?”
Harry shook his head, but Severus had retreated into his own mind. Honeycutt reckoned that it was
a rather large amount of information he had just dropped on them both. Harry still needed to heal
from the week he’d spent in the muggle world, and they both had a number of problems still to
work through. He nodded, “Well, I’ll be back to check on you both before I leave tonight. You can
stay in the room here as long as you need to— and Harry, you’ll be staying at least another day no
matter what, so I can monitor your healing. It’s secure and warded so that only the three of us can
enter. No one else even sees the door.”

He stood and collected the now empty trays, stepping out of the room and giving Harry and
Severus a chance to process all the new information he’d laid on them. He smiled. This was going
to change the world.

Severus closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. Only his Harry. The boy who talked round
the Sorting Hat. The boy who defeated a basilisk at twelve and befriended dragons and thestrals
and phoenixes, and he didn't even know the half of what else he got up to at school. Of course he
would now be the first pregnant man since Merlin. At almost sixteen years old. He groaned and
covered his eyes. He thought he was over the age thing, but Harry was still slightly more than two
weeks away from his sixteenth birthday, and now he was pregnant.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” a kiss pressed against his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

Severus raised his head to look Harry in the eye. “I just stole the Chosen One, who was probably
only hours from death at the hands of muggles. Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore will want
both of us dead. We are largely without allies, one snarky healer and your Ms. Granger excepted, of
course. Your health is precarious enough without considering the pregnancy, never mind with it.
You have the residue of a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul resting in your scar, and I am marked as
his follower. You are fifteen years old and pregnant with my child, an act which will get me
arrested in both the muggle and magical worlds. How, my beautiful reckless wonderful love, will it
be okay?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno yet, but we’re gonna be dads. Let’s just enjoy that thought for a bit.”

Severus slumped next to his Harry, and decided that yes, he would simply enjoy the thought of
impending parenthood. A spike of fear flashed through him. He was going to be a father. How was
that going to work? He hated children. He’d made an entire career of hating them— he was famous
for it. Neither of his parents offered him any kind of example to follow. What was he going to do?

Harry had snuggled as close as his injuries would allow, and smiled at him. “I’ve no idea what a
dad is supposed to do, do you? I mean, it’s not like Vernon set an example worth following. I bet
you’re going to be an awesome dad. I’ll be a disaster, probably. You’ll have to be the responsible
one. Make sure that the kid doesn’t start flying too early and gets all their homework finished on
time— that sort of thing. I’ll make sure to hide the alcohol and we’ll have to keep the potions lab
locked and warded. Hermione can help. I bet she’s read a book about babies at some point. She’ll
be my phone-a-friend if there are questions we don’t know.”

Harry babbled on, and Severus found comfort in the low voiced nonsense and solid feel of Harry in
his arms. He let Harry talk himself into a nap, as he slowly ran his hands through Harry’s hair, the
curls twisting around his fingers, trapping him with gentle softness.
 10 July 1996

Severus woke early the next morning, in the peace of St. Mungo’s warded room, Harry in his arms,
and his child on his mind. There were so many problems to confront, but all he could think of was
a little boy with Harry’s wild hair and his dark eyes, or a little girl with his cheekbones and Harry’s
eyes. The idea of that child ever being in jeopardy, being threatened, mistreated— he knew that
should such a thing ever happen, he would burn the world in his rage. His Harry and their child,
their family, had suddenly become sacred to him.

Harry’s head burrowed into his sternum, and an arm clenched around his middle. “Sev?” Harry’s
voice sounded muffled and sleepy.

“I am here, fy anwylaf . You are safe,” he smiled as Harry pressed closer

“What happened yesterday?” The question made him smile. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t
quite believe their good fortune.

Severus looked down at the top of Harry’s head and pressed a kiss to his curls, “I came storming in
with flapping capes and everything as requested. I didn’t kill the muggles— yet. But only because
they weren’t home. And I still owe you a good disfiguring curse on one Piers the neighbor punk. I
took you to St. Mungo’s where the healer told us about Dumbledore binding your magic and
dosing you with potions. We learned that there was a horcrux in your scar, which terrifies me
because no one knows how that happened or what the residue might do, and you fought a fucking
basilisk. Then we found out that we’re going to be dads and you told me I would have to be the
responsible one.”

“Well yeah,” Harry leaned up and began kissing Severus’ neck. “I’m not anything like responsible
— you’ve said so yourself.”

“Very Slytherin tactics there, turning my own words back on me in an argument,” Severus raised
his chin to give Harry more room.

“Ah, just wait” Harry pressed a kiss to Severus’ chin, “till the little one,” another kiss on his nose
this time, “gets here.” This time the kiss fell on his left cheek. “Your brilliance,” a kiss to his right
cheek, “my ability to attract trouble,” a kiss on his right eyebrow, “Draco’s resources, assuming
you want him to act as godfather?” Severus nodded, and got a kiss to his left eyebrow for his
trouble. “Hermione’s traveling library,” a kiss to his temple, and Harry sat back. Severus opened
his eyes and smiled up at the man he loved. “This child is going to be unstoppable. We’re both
going to need all the Slytherin tactics we can manage.” Harry leaned back down and licked into his
mouth. Severus opened up, welcoming Harry’s tongue and wrapping his arms gently around his
lover’s body, mindful of the still healing parts.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Severus was on his feet in an instant, standing between
Harry and the unknown, wand pointed toward the intruder. It was Healer Honeycutt with trays of
breakfast, and a smile. “Don’t shoot!” He smirked and put his hands up, floating the trays over to a
bedside table. “I just figured I’d give you warning before I came in.” He winked at Harry, and
Severus rolled his eyes. He did appreciate the warning, but there was no need to seem grateful.

The healer began running his wand over Harry in a diagnostic charm. “How are you feeling this
morning, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “My back and my right eye are still pretty sore, but the worst is the cramping.
Otherwise, I’m alright.”

“Hmm,” the healer considered the results and compared them to Harry’s answer. “Are you sure
your hands are okay? We had to repair a number of large breaks, some of the smaller fractures will
likely still be giving you trouble..”

“No more than normal,” Harry shrugged.

Honeycutt shook his head. “No, Harry, normal would be no pain at all. You’ll be clear of the
contraindicated potions by this evening, so you can start the Skelegro you’ll be needing tonight.
Severus has already told me about your improvements to it, so now you can be among the first to
benefit from your own hard work. It was an interesting addition using the ladybirds to ease the
potion into the bloodstream. I don’t know much about potions myself— needed your man’s help to
get through the basics, you know. But I do appreciate it when they work better than expected.” All
through the man’s monologue, he’d been making notes on a chart and a separate piece of
parchment.

“Will it be safe for the baby?” Harry clearly had a new priority, and it made Severus smile.
Perhaps he could use the baby’s safety to get Harry to stay safe as well. Slytherin tactics, he
reminded himself.

“Actually, yes. There are a limited number of potions ingredients harmful to pregnant people. It’s
not potions themselves that are dangerous— it’s the interaction of those few ingredients, and
sometimes the intensity or strength of the potion, which isn’t suitable to a growing foetus. Severus
knows what not to use,” Julius smiled at Harry’s curiosity. No wonder his friend was so smitten.
He glanced at Severus, and the man nodded. Of course Harry would not be consuming anything
harmful to the child.

“How long will I stay here?” Harry looked uncertain. Severus knew Harry was thinking about
where he would go next. He hated the doubt in Harry’s eyes.

Honeycutt looked between the two of them. “You’ll be staying here until your blood tests clean of
infection, your back has healed completely, and I can unpick the bind on your magic. I’m not
letting you go until you can stand on your feet and control your casting at the very least.” He
looked back at the charts. “That’ll probably be three more days at the rate you’re currently
mending.”

Honeycutt must have seen the look Harry shot at Severus, or guessed at some of the complexities
in their situation, as he continued, “You’re welcome to the room for as long as you need it, of
course. You’re absolutely safe here. No one has the slightest clue that anyone is in here, and even
if they did somehow discover the place, know that someone was in residence, and that the someone
is you, they couldn’t get in anyway.” The man shrugged and smiled at both of them. “I believe
what you both need is the time to be together and talk about what comes next, and the space to
make plans and decisions that aren’t the result of an emergency. I can give you that.”

He smiled on his way out the door, “Oh, but if either of you leave this room, you won’t be able to
get back in without me. It’s one of the protections I added. I have to walk everyone in here, or
they’ll never find it again.”

Severus and Harry both nodded their understanding and thanks, and Severus shook the healer’s
hand. Harry smiled tiredly and was already sliding back into bed as the man took his leave.

Knowing that Harry was safe, hidden from both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and healing eased
Severus’ mind considerably. He slid into bed next to Harry and dropped a kiss on his upturned lips.
“He was right, you know. We do need to figure out the next steps.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry had reached up and was playing with a lock of Severus’ hair. “What excuse did
you give the old man?”

“Told him that an acquaintance had requested help with a potions explosion.” Severus shifted
around until his arm was wrapped around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s head was resting on his
chest.

“You’ll have to leave tonight, then, and report back to him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” everything in Severus rebelled against the idea.

Harry shook his head, “You’ll have to eventually, whether it’s Hogwarts or your mark. It’s better if
he discovers me gone while you’re there at school right under his nose. There’s no way he’d
suspect you. He’ll likely use you to try and find me.”

Severus snorted, “Fine. You’re right. And I’ll be able to direct him away from whatever safe house
we set up.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Harry grinned up at him.

Severus raised an eyebrow, “Cheeky.” He dropped a kiss on Harry’s nose, and chuckled as he
watched Harry’s eyes cross.

Harry smiled, but then grew serious, “I’m not going back to Hogwarts, am I?”

“Not if the timeline is what Julius says it is,” Severus frowned. “There’s too much risk — a stray
curse in DADA or the wrong potions assignment. Once the morning sickness kicks in, you won’t
want to be at Hogwarts, either. Not to mention you’ll start showing around Yule.” He ran a hand
over Harry’s belly, already picturing Harry growing round.

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice was full of awe and anticipation. There was no doubt in Severus’ mind that
Harry was already in love with their child. He was feeling a mix of abject fear and utter devotion,
and it left him extremely confused. He wanted this chance more than anything else in life, but the
potential to screw it all up petrified him.

Severus took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Now was not the time to worry about the risk of
failure. Now, he needed to think about the practicalities, or his small family would be gone before
he had a real chance with them. He hesitated at voicing his idea knowing that Harry might object,
but ultimately, it was the best option for them, “I’d like it if we left Britain. I don’t know where—
not yet, but I just think that all the threats are here, and it makes sense for us not to be.”

To his surprise, Harry was nodding along. “I already wanted to leave, anyway. This isn’t my war,
for all that everyone else seems to think it is. I’m not who they think I am— definitely not a hero or
a martyr. They’ve grown complacent, and they think I’ll fight to protect their petty little lives,
when they’re not willing to stand up against evil themselves. It’s like— like, they expect me to be
happy just to avenge my parents, and they get to reap the benefit of a Riddle-free world. And yes,
of course I love the idea of Mum and Da, but honestly, I never knew them personally. I know they
died to give me a life. They must have wanted me to live it. Frankly, I don’t really want revenge
nearly as much as I want to live my life free and happy with,” his voice faltered for a moment, but
then he looked up into Severus’ eyes, “with the man I love.”

Severus felt his heart expand and his breath catch, and rather than reply, he shifted them closer and
kissed Harry, telling him without words how much he wanted that too. He closed his eyes and lost
himself in the feel of Harry’s mouth, one hand cradling Harry’s head, and the other gently
caressing his cheek. When the need for air became pressing, he lifted his mouth and opened his
eyes. “I love you, too, Harry.” The words came easier than he ever imagined they would, and
breathing them out against Harry’s lips felt like the scariest, best, most life-changing thing he’d
ever done. The light that ignited in his beloved’s eyes repaid him a thousand fold. He pressed
another nibbling kiss to Harry’s lips, and smiled down at him before falling back against the pillow
and settling Harry next to him.

Harry wrapped an arm around his chest and settled against him, threading a leg between his own,
and Severus smiled. He had acquired his own octopus. He knew they needed to talk, though. He
took Harry’s hand and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss there, and hoping it would be enough
comfort. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Severus,” he felt Harry tense up next to him, and nibbled at each of Harry’s fingers. Finally, with
a long breath, Harry began his story.

“Vernon was pissed off more than normal. Frankly, he had a lot of reasons to be. I’m not excusing
him or his actions, but the magical world has given him reason to hate them, starting from when I
was left on his doorstep with a threatening letter. Last summer— you remember the Dementor
attack?” Harry glanced up at Severus’ face to check, and he nodded, “Well, I think it woke him up
to the dangers of being Harry Potter’s relatives. And, the magical world is one he doesn’t
understand and cannot defend against. In a choice between fight and flight , Vernon will always
pick fight, but this threat is one he cannot hope to comprehend, and that was brought home to him
via an attack on his son.”

Severus tightened his arms around Harry, knowing the worst was still to come, “Before he could
come to grips with it, I disappeared from their home and spent the year at school. They know
enough about the magical world to connect things like the upheaval in the West Country and the
Brockdale Bridge to us, so they spent a year growing more and more terrified of the ways magicals
can make muggles suffer. Then, they were threatened at Kings Cross. I told you about that,” He
glanced up again, and Severus pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Yes, you did. And I would like nothing better than to curse every single one of the idiots. But go
on, love, you’re not done yet.”

Harry smiled slightly, “Well, so he has all these legitimate reasons to hate us, but he also refuses to
understand anything about the magical world, so he also blames me for everything from the
weather to the fact that he lost an account at work. It’s easier for him to assume I did something to
him, than that there’s something wrong with him. It was the same when I was in primary school
with Dudley— obviously, I sabotaged their son’s education, not that Duddikins was lazy or
stupid.” The bitterness was creeping into his voice now, and Severus closed his eyes.

He had been so wrong about Harry’s life and had treated him abominably. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”
He kissed Harry’s hand in apology. “The way I behaved,” his voice trailed off.

“No,” Harry pressed closer, “Well, yeah, I mean, that was pretty bad at first. I hated you until I
figured out Dumbledore had been lying to you about me. It took a few conversations with Mione—
she’s better at sussing out feelings and motives and such than me, but I got there in the end. This
last year I was trying so hard to let you see me, but” Harry shrugged, and Severus smiled self-
deprecatingly.

“It took me far too long.”

“Long as you see me now,” Harry tilted his face up for another kiss, which Severus gladly gave.
They were interrupted, briefly, by Honeycutt bringing in lunch and running a quick diagnostic on
Harry, but as the man had rounds to perform and official patients to treat, he didn’t stay long. As
Severus worked through a plate of shepherd’s pie and Harry had some broth and applesauce, along
with his noontime potions, they spoke about the future.

“So, we’re going to leave Britain?” Severus could hear the smile in Harry’s voice, and he knew his
next words were going to ruin it.

He set Harry back amongst the pillows, and sat up, facing away from Harry, not wanting to see the
light die from his face, “You’re leaving Britain.”

“What?” Harry sat up again. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Severus knew this would be a battle, but he knew he had the right of it, “If we run together, we’ll
be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. Let me stay here and cover for you, while
you go and have our child somewhere safe. I can make sure that neither the Dark Lord nor the
Headmaster gets anywhere near you.” Harry was shaking his head vehemently, his eyes bright.
“Harry, the reality is that you’re pregnant. You’re going to get large and you won’t be able to
dodge spellfire or move quickly enough to keep our child safe. You have to hide. I have to stay so I
can protect both of you.”

Tears had gathered in Harry’s eyes, “I can’t have this baby without you.” His voice was frantic, and
he was starting to breathe heavily.

Severus watched him blink tears away, his heart breaking. “Harry, Merlin, Harry—I don’t want to
leave you either. But we have another priority now.”

“No,” Harry’s voice broke, but the word was firm, “No, you can’t ask me to run and hide while
you’re here balancing between the devil and the dark lord. I won’t sit alone in some house
somewhere waiting to hear that you’re dead.”

“So little faith in my abilities?” Severus tried to keep his voice light, but he knew he failed. He
didn’t like hearing that Harry thought he couldn’t make it. “I’ve been playing this game for a long
time, Harry. I know how to keep either of them from learning anything important. I know how to
survive.”

“And when the Noseless Bastard curses you bloody and you forget me? Or when Dumbledore
abandons you to Azkaban and the Dementors steal you from me?” Harry sounded borderline
hysterical, and Severus realized that stress and hormones were playing into the conversation far too
much. He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m going to have to leave soon, and I don’t want to leave
angry. I will give you my word that I will listen to your arguments. We will decide this together,
but please at least consider that I might know what I’m doing?”

He heard a sob escape, and glanced over his shoulder at Harry, who was holding himself together
by a thread.

“Okay, okay, Harry.” He wrapped his arms around his younger lover and held him close, “okay.
Shh. We’ll think up a new plan.”

He felt Harry finally stop fighting his emotions and dissolve into tears against his chest, and
realized that life with another person in it complicated everything. He ran his hand, as best he
could, through Harry’s hair, hoping to soothe him.

“There isn’t a new plan.” Harry wailed into his chest. “That makes sense, but I hate it.” He felt
Harry’s shoulders shuddering. “I hate it so much, but it’s logical and you’re smart and I trust you.
Of course, I know you can do it, but, b-but what if I-I can’t?” Harry had his hands clenched in
Severus’ shirt, and he pounded a fist against his back. “You’ll keep several port keys on you, and
potions, all your potions, and you won’t take risks, and you’ll send me messages.”

“Every day,” Severus bent and kissed the top of Harry’s head.

Harry sniffed and pressed his face closer to Severus, “this sucks.”

“Hmm,” Severus just continued petting Harry’s hair and rocking him soothingly until he dropped
into a doze. He had known that the plan would be a difficult sell. Everything about Harry—
everything he thought he knew before, and everything he had learned since that first night on the
tower— everything that Harry was made of, was about keeping those he cared for safe. He had
rushed into danger over and over for his loved ones: down into the Chamber to protect Hermione,
off to the Ministry to rescue his godfather. Severus didn’t think for a moment that the discussion
was over, but hopefully, they’d gotten the first rush of objection and agony out of the way.

He waited through the day with Harry, but when supper approached, he knew it was time to leave.
He had been away from Hogwarts for two days, and Dumbledore would be extremely annoying if
he delayed any longer.

He brushed Harry’s hair away from his forehead and pressed a kiss there, “Harry.” The boy stirred
but didn’t wake completely. “Harry, come on, look at me, at least.” Green eyes slowly opened, and
Severus smiled. “There you are.”

“Mmm, Sev,” Harry leaned in to the soft touch.

“I have to return to Hogwarts, fy anwylaf . Dumbledore is going to be a nightmare, but if we’re

going to keep him in the dark, I need to be there.”

Harry nodded, and sat up. He wrapped his arms around Severus, and hid his face in Severus’ neck.
Severus held the back of his head and closed his eyes. He did not want to leave. He felt Harry’s
mouth moving against his skin, and barely heard the words, “How do you feel about papa ?”

“What was that?” Severus brushed his lips against Harry’s temple.

“Well, we can’t both be dad , so,” Severus pulled back slightly, so he could lift Harry’s chin and
look into his eyes.

“I love papa .” He smiled.

“So do I.” Harry smirked, and repeated it just in case Severus was feeling stupid. He wasn’t, but
he’d never not want to hear the words, “I love you, Sev. I love you, and I expect you to come back
to me when you can.”

“As soon as possible, beloved.” Severus nodded, pressing his lips to Harry’s in a promise he had
every intention of keeping. As he stepped toward the door, he turned back and spent a long
moment lost in Harry’s eyes. “I love you.” And then he was gone.
 11 July 1996

Severus had returned to Hogwarts in time for dinner the evening before, and never had he wanted
to be somewhere less. As he had anticipated, Dumbledore was beyond insufferable, demanding to
know the details behind his absence, the name and location of the acquaintance he helped, the type
of potion being brewed, the nature of the solution, and on and on. Severus’ mouth grew tighter and
thinner with each question, until finally, it was Minerva who blew up in rage.

“Albus! For Merlin’s sake! Severus completed his work before he left, he helped a friend, and he
returned! None of the rest of his actions are in any way your business to pry into.” She was
gesticulating wildly with her fork at Dumbledore, who looked close to using the serving platter as
a shield, and Severus’ pressed his lips together to stop the laughter this time. “Severus works as
hard as any of us, and he deserves the summers off to recuperate just as much as we do. I’m still
not sure why you’re insisting we stay through the first two weeks, there’s just not enough work to
keep us busy!”

“Minerva,” Dumbledore cast a shifty look at the other professors as though gauging their loyalties.
“We have a responsibility to the castle and her students.”

“One which we have fulfilled, you daft old man!” She really was in fine form, Severus thought.
“It’s summer! The work is finished, and we want to go home!”

“Very well, then,” Dumbledore put on a huge show of slumping his shoulders and sighing. “I shall
release the staff on the morning of the 14th of July. I have an errand to run that day anyway, and
we can say our farewells at breakfast.”

Most of the staff heaved a sigh of relief, but Severus merely nodded. He wondered what purpose
there was in keeping them all hanging about so long. Typically, once the marks had been returned,
the paperwork for the term finalized, and the dorms cleaned, they were free of their contracts and
could spend the summer on their own. He also knew that today and tomorrow, until he was free of
the castle, dealing with the old man would make him miserable.

After the confrontation at dinner, he had escaped to his own quarters in the dungeons, and drew a
bath. As he slipped into the hot water, he realized he could finally relax. Yes, he would prefer to be
with Harry, but his mind was eased knowing that Harry was safely away from the muggles, and
that he was healing somewhere no one could possibly find him. He looked forward to a long night
of actual rest.

Unfortunately, around one in the morning, the burning in his mark woke him. He gathered his
robes and mask, sent a message to Dumbledore, and stalked out into the night to find out what the
Dark Lord wanted.

By the time he had suffered through the speeches and sycophants, been cursed twice, and returned
to the castle, it was nearing dawn, and he was twitching. He could only hope that Harry had not
been made to witness the meeting. He knew that seeing him a twitching mess on the floor before
the Dark Lord’s wand would not help with Harry’s healing or pregnancy. As he stumbled back into
the safety of his rooms, ignoring the house elf, no doubt sent by Dumbledore to bring him to the
head’s office, he wanted little other than his bed and a pain potion.

However, the elf would not be denied, and Dumbledore’s summons was issued. He wondered at
the headmaster’s sadistic tendencies, at making him climb the stairs, but he also preferred that
Dumbledore not make himself at home in his own rooms. He grumbled all the way up to the
gargoyle, at whom he merely glared. By the time he had reached the circular office and slumped
against the hearth, he was in a thoroughly bad mood.

“He has called for a noon raid of Diagon Alley,” Severus didn’t feel like beating around the bush.
“I was excused from attendance as it will necessarily be a public event happening in broad
daylight, and he does not wish to expose my loyalties. As it will be happening in a matter of a few
hours, I do not believe anything can be done to stop it, however, it would be wise to send word to
the aurors and the DMLE.”

“We must be cautious about stirring the pot, Severus,” Dumbledore looked carefully at him, and
Severus knew nothing would be done, no precautious would be taken, no one would be alerted to
anything.

“Headmaster, there may be families out to do the shopping, children in the alley! We must take
some steps,” Severus looked outraged at the callous treatment of human life. “Albus, to what
purpose am I subjected to curse after curse if not to prevent this? I am tortured nearly every time he
calls, and I willingly go to seek out information, but it is on the understanding that I do some
good.”

“The important decisions are not always so clear, my boy. Your sacrifices are appreciated, and the
information you gather is of utmost importance,” a twinkling smile did nothing to put his mind at
rest. “The right path is often the difficult one, and this time, we must do nothing that puts your
position as spy at risk.”

“Albus!” Severus’ body ached, his heart ached, his mind was reaching a breaking point. “You are
talking about doing nothing in the face of an imminent attack, which will put civilians, potentially
children, at risk. We know of it. We can at the very least alert the auror force and station members
of the Order in Diagon. Potter, the arrogant whelp, slips from his place of safety whenever he feels
the need. The guard you have on him is ineffective at the very least. You’ve told me yourself he
goes galavanting off on the London underground, alone, whenever he pleases. Let the Order do
something more active. Let them help protect people. We cannot simply do nothing.”

“We do nothing because we must do nothing, Severus.” The steel underlying those grandfatherly
tones hit Severus, and he knew there was nothing left to say. “The only priority at the moment is
ensuring that young Harry stays the course. His little side trips mean nothing to the greater plan.
He may slip his guard from time to time, but I do have other ways of keeping tabs on him. He
cannot escape his destiny. The attack in Diagon is an unfortunate circumstance, but it cannot be
helped.”

He lowered his head as though in submission, and sighed. “As you say, Albus,” he seethed. “But I
grow weary of the loss of life.”

“I understand, my boy.” Dumbledore’s hand hovered by one of the silver trinkets on his desk, but
he seemed to think twice about it. “Now, I will be heading to Surrey to collect young Harry
tonight, I think. A little earlier than I anticipated doing so, but sooner makes more sense than later,
I believe.”

“I neither care where the brat is, nor do I understand why you should go personally to retrieve the
spoiled little brat, but you will do as you will, as always.” Severus huffed out, hating the words but
forcing himself to believe them.

He watched as a subtle tension left Dumbledore’s shoulders even as the condescending

disappointment filled his gaze. “Severus, will you never see Harry as Lily’s son too?”
“I see nothing of her in his arrogant willfulness.” Severus stiffened. In truth, he saw neither of the
Potters, and only Harry himself when he looked at him. “If there’s nothing else, Albus, I should
like to rest and put my nerves back into some sort of order before the day begins in earnest.”

“Of course, my boy.”

Rest, however, did not come. When he reached the dungeons, he found an unknown barn owl
waiting for him with a scrap of torn parchment in its beak.

Severus,

Something happened last night. Harry woke early this morning, screaming and convulsing. Once
he calmed enough to talk to me, all he would say was that he needed to leave. I don’t know where
he’s gone or what he needs to do, but I’m worried about him. I’m keeping his room warded, as he
left most of his belongings behind and told me he would return. If you know anything, you need to
go after him. He’s not well.

Julius

Severus swore quite comprehensively. Of course, his impetuous, selfless, reckless beloved would
go running off to rescue Olivander and Fortescue. He knew that Harry had a very positive
relationship with the ice cream vendor, and regardless of his feelings for the wand maker, he would
never leave someone to the mercies of the Death Eaters. He grabbed a pepper up potion and
downed it, wishing he was falling asleep instead, and cast a disillusionment spell over himself
before yet again leaving the castle.

He apparated to Diagon Alley and kept to the shadows as he slipped between buildings. It was still
early morning, and few people were up and about as he slunk toward the ice cream parlour where
he hoped to find his wayward, stubborn lover.

He knocked loudly on the back door to the shop, hoping against hope that someone would let him
in before he was seen by the advance scouts sent by the Dark Lord. He wasn’t sure exactly when
they would need to be in place as the planning for this most public of raids had been done without
him. He knocked again, only to have the door ripped open and a wand stuck in his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed just loudly enough to be heard as he stepped
forward and removed the disillusionment spell.

Harry was in full warrior mode though, and not about to allow a potential threat into the room,
“Where did I last see you?”

“In the hospital room you were supposed to stay safe in,” Severus bit out the angry reply, and
watched as Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. “Are you in pain?” He put his anger aside and drew
Harry into his arms.

“Not much,” Harry murmured and pressed his face into Severus’ neck. “I’m sorry. I know you’re
angry, and you’re right. I just couldn’t let them do that. Not after I watched him— I couldn’t, Sev.”

Severus shook his head and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. “I know. I know you couldn’t, but
Harry, think what could’ve happened, please.” He leaned back and kissed Harry’s forehead,
running a hand surreptitiously over Harry’s stomach. “You need to be more careful with yourself.
Perhaps consider using more of those Slytherin tactics, Love.”

“Mr. Snape,” Florian Fortescue looked surprised, but not offended by the interaction, “I assume
you are here to issue the same warning as Mr. Potter?”
“I am,” Severus sent a sharp nod to the elderly wizard.

Fortescue nodded sharply, “Well, let’s get going then. I’ve no skill at occlumency, so if I do end up
captured, we’re all in for it.” He sent a spell at the front door, and Severus could feel the wards
changing. “No need to pack. I’ve got a daughter and son-in-law in the south of France, an old
family place, warded to the gills and unplottable. They’ll see me taken care of, and maybe I can
tweak a few more recipes, while I wait out the war.” He grinned at Harry.

Harry smiled back, “Try caramel and strawberry, sir. With a cinnamon cone.”

Severus smiled at the reference, knowing that Harry was thinking of Lily. But there was no time.
He could already see the old man’s mind spinning into new flavors and determined to keep them
all on track. “Later, both of you. Fortescue, if you head to Gringotts, they will be able to set you up
with an international port key. You’ll need to hurry. You only have till noon, at the latest.”

“Understood, son, understood.” The old man nodded, stepped behind his counter one last time, and
swiftly packed up the last of his Pistachio & Honey Cream, and what was left of the Dark
Chocolate and Forest Fruits, setting never-melt charms on both. “For you both, with my lifelong
thanks. I’m off to the bank, now, I believe. A meeting with my accountant that shouldn’t take
much more than an hour.” He winked at them, and stepped briskly out of the shop.

“Harry,” Severus began, but was cut off by a kiss.

Harry pressed his body close, and murmured, “I know, and I’ll listen to you yell as long as you
want, but last night, I watched you cursed over and over, and I know you haven’t slept or healed.
You think I’m reckless, but you never take care of yourself, and I hate seeing the pain in your eyes.
So, please, let’s do what we came for and get Olivander, so you can get off your feet and we both
can take a pain potion. Please?”

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry, and nodded. This was what he wanted when he agreed to
spy for Dumbledore. Action, saving lives, this was why he had turned his coat, not merely adding
to Dumbledore’s store of knowledge. He had wanted to make things better, atone for his mistakes.
He swiftly applied disillusionment charms to both of them, and they slipped out the back door
again, blending in with the shadows of the dustbins.

Harry was counting shops as they crept along. When they finally stood outside the back door of
Olivander’s wand shop, Severus went to knock, only to have Harry grab his hand and shake his
head. Severus stood back and watched as Harry pressed his hand to the door, and the space filled
with magic. Harry’s magic swirled with golden tinted rainbows and smelled of gunpowder.
Severus smiled at the sight, but never lost his watchfulness.

Eventually, the door opened a small crack, and a long nose poked out into the alley. “Mr. Potter?
Are you there?” The whisper could barely be heard, even in the quiet of the early morning.

“Yes, Mr. Olivander, it’s me, and a friend. May we please come in?”

Olivander stood aside and both men stepped into a cramped and dusty hall. The wards must have
alerted the wandmaker, as he glanced into the empty space hiding Severus, and nodded. “Severus
Snape. Black Walnut and a combination of mermaid and demiguise hair, wasn’t it?” Severus
removed the disillusionment charm and nodded at the old man.

Harry turned amazed eyes up at him, “really?”

“Not the time, Harry.” Severus turned to Olivander. “Sir, we have learned of an imminent attack on
Diagon Alley by the Dark Lord. The primary purpose of this raid is to collect you. He has
questions about wands, in particular what happened between his wand and Harry’s, and I fear the
lengths he will go to in order to get the answers he seeks. You have less than an hour to escape
before it will be too late. Indeed, he may already have watchers in place.”

“My shop? My wands?” Olivander looked around him in dismay. It was clear even to the most
idiotic person that he had no time to organize or pack any of his belongings.

“Mr. Olivander, please.” Harry begged. “Your shop can be repaired and new ingredients and
woods can be found, but your life and your knowledge are irreplaceable. Please. You need to leave
it behind for your safety.”

“I— I can’t just— You’re right,” the old man crumpled. “I’ll go with you.”

Harry looked wildly up at Severus, shaking his head. Severus rolled his eyes, “You cannot be seen
with either of us. Do you have any close relations? Friends who would offer you shelter?”

“Oh—oh yes, of course,” Olivander summoned a small pouch from somewhere in the depths of the
shop. “I will need to stop at Gringotts.”

“Good,” Harry breathed, “The goblins can also arrange an untraceable port-key for you to
anywhere you need to get. It’s probably best if you don’t tell us. Just please, get moving!”

Severus watched the old man gather his wits and his courage. The wandmaker looked at both of
them, and nodded. “I owe you both my life. I will not forget. I usually do my paperwork with the
goblins in the early morning. It will not look out of place, if I head in that direction now. I wish you
both good fortune, and leave you with the blessings of Merlin and Morgana.” The little man
bowed, and then left the shop.

Severus turned to Harry, who was looking at his feet. He put a hand under Harry’s chin and lifted
his face to look into his eyes. “Yes, you frightened me. Yes, I am angry, and I will probably yell.
But beloved, you did the right thing. Right now, we need to leave as quickly as possible.” He
pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s mouth, and then led the teenager out the back. They would be able
to apparate away from Diagon, once they were out from under the wards of the wand shop. “Do
you have your cloak with you?”

Harry nodded and threw it over both of them, and Severus took them directly back to St. Mungo’s.
This time, the walk through the hospital was less frenetic. Visiting hours had not yet begun, so
only the truly sick and their healers were milling about, and most of them were in the exam rooms.
They found healer Honeycutt in his office, pacing.

“Oh thank Merlin you’re both okay,” The blond looked frazzled and turned immediately at their
entrance. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

Harry emerged from under the cloak. “I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I did any more damage than
before. If you’ve got a pain potion, I’ll take it. Sev was tortured this morning, though, so I would
appreciate it if you would see to him.”

“Harry,” Severus began, but before he could continue, Honeycutt’s magic was flowing through
him, running diagnostics. The man barely glanced at the results before pulling nerve potions, pain
relief and muscle relaxers from his potions cupboard.

“Here,” the man said. “Check them if you like. You know what to do with them.” He handed
Severus the phials and then turned to Harry. “He’ll be fine with the potions and some rest. Now, as
to you, young man, what on earth were you thinking? You’ve reopened several of the lashes on
your back, and I can see the strain in your body. You will return to bed, where I will once again put
you back together again, and this time I will use sticking charms.”

Harry’s head drooped slightly as Julius continued to rant at him, but Severus could see the steel in
his spine. He knew Harry was sorry to have worried both of them, but he also knew that the
teenager would do it again if the circumstances warranted. He spoke up, “Come, can we get this
one in his bed again?”

Honeycutt broke off his tirade against wayward patients and nodded. Harry and Severus slunk back
under the cloak, and followed the healer to the warded room. Honeycutt walked them through, and
reset the protections. After he finished examining the damage to Harry’s back, he blinked and
turned to leave. “I’ll be back with your breakfasts.”

Harry was laying on his belly, his back newly bandaged, and his face was turned away from
Severus. “I’m sorry I worried you,” his voice was so small and timid, and Severus could see the
tension in his shoulders, braced for a rejection.

“ Fy anwylaf ,” Severus gently ran a hand over Harry’s shoulder and down his arm. “You wouldn’t
be you if you stopped running into danger to save people, I know that, and I’m not angry.” He
dropped a kiss on the back of Harry’s neck. “Even if I was angry, I wouldn’t leave the best thing
that’s ever happened to me. You frightened me, yes, but you did what I wanted done with that
information. Dumbledore was going to allow the raid to take place as planned, doing nothing to
intervene. You took the action I wanted to. Now, we have a new set of problems, though.”

Harry had turned to face him in the middle of his explanation, and his eyes grew wide. Severus
could no longer stand up, though, so he nudged Harry over, and slipped into the bed next to him.
He hadn’t had time to stop for a moment since he had left this room, and he was exhausted. After
arguing with Dumbledore, he’d been tortured by the Dark Lord, then had spent further time
arguing with Dumbledore, only to rush off once again in a panic to stage a rescue in Diagon. He
needed to lie down and hold Harry for an hour or so before he had to get back up again.

Harry had immediately made room in the bed, and when he lay down, he could feel Harry’s fingers
trailing gently over his face.

“I’m sorry,” there was less fear in his voice and more genuine emotion. Severus knew this was the
real apology and turned his head to kiss Harry’s temple. “I’m sorry I went rushing off without
talking to you. I’m sorry you felt you had to come running after me, again. I can’t say I wouldn’t
do it again if I had to. I did try to be careful.”

“I know, and I accept your apology, Harry,” Severus lifted his own hand to Harry’s fingers, still
tracing patterns over his face. He brought the palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss there. “I know
it’s difficult for you to know what the Dark Lord is planning and not intervene, but fy anwylaf , you
must remember that you are pregnant. I do not want you to save the world and risk the baby. I
know you want to protect people— I do too— but we both have a higher priority now.”

Harry’s head was now buried in Severus’ shoulder, and he could feel tears starting to leak through
the material. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, Sev. I lost my head.”

“Shh,” he ran a hand through Harry’s hair, and closed his eyes to savor the feeling. “Shh, I know.
And this time, it worked out well for all of us.” He lifted Harry’s head with a finger under the chin.
“But next time it might not. Please, I’m begging you, please be a bit more selfish.” He softened the
words with a smirk, and when Harry smiled through his tears, he counted it as a win. “Have you
had these visions before?”
“Yeah, couple times, I guess. Once or twice before the tournament, but pretty steadily since he’s
had a body back. It’s weird. I would’ve said it was the horcrux, but Honeycutt checked and it’s
gone. The only way it could be gone is the basilisk. So, no idea, really.”

“Lily sometimes knew things before they happened,” Severus murmured quietly. “I don’t know if
this is the same, but the gift may have changed slightly in the family line.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it wasn’t frequent or anything, and mostly she passed off what she knew as women’s
intuition,” he snorted at the idea of something so utterly ridiculous as a gender-based insight,
especially one she might have passed on to her son. “But she managed to warn her father about a
car accident so he could avoid it, and she had strong objections to Vernon when he and Petunia
started dating.” He squeezed Harry tighter. “She might also have known something would be
coming for you that night, but I don’t know.”

“So she had a kind of foresight?” Harry scrunched up his nose and Severus was hard pressed not to
kiss it. “I’m not sure that’s the same as what I’m dealing with, Sev. I’m not seeing the future— it’s
the present. And I’m seeing it through one person’s eyes.”

“I don’t have any answers, Harry, but I’m glad you’re not carrying around a bit of Riddle’s soul
within you.”

“You and me, both.” Harry pressed closer and snuggled his face into Severus’ neck.

They managed to stay awake through breakfast, but Severus knew he would need to return to
Hogwarts soon. He could miss the staff breakfast with the excuse of being called the night before,
but he would need to put in an appearance at lunch. He did not want to leave Harry again, and he
knew that there would be more tears this time.

“Harry,” Severus pressed a kiss to Harry’s hair. The teenager was still laying on his stomach to
allow the lashes to close over again, and he had pressed his head tightly up against Severus’
shoulder. Severus gently shook the arm thrown carelessly across his chest. “Harry, Love, we need
to talk a moment. Are you awake?”

“Mhmm,” came the mumble, and Severus smiled. Harry came alert and leaned up on his elbows.
He leaned close and kissed Severus, smiling against the older man’s lips. Severus moaned, this
was how he wanted to wake every morning. Harry grinned at him, and he shook his head fondly.

“Harry, Dumbledore is going to know you’re gone by tonight,” he began. “He plans to remove you
from your relatives’ early. Do you know anything about the silver ornaments in his office? He was
looking at them when he told me.” He had spent the quiet time reviewing his memories of his
interaction with Dumbledore, and believed the things had something to do with Harry.

Harry was smirking, “Oh yeah, those things. I took care of them when I trashed his office. He’s
been using them my whole life to monitor me. He used one of them to track where I was and
another to make sure I was still alive. One allowed him to hear my conversations, but only in real
time, thank Merlin. Another was the ward key to all the shit he piled on to my relatives’ house to
keep me there. None of them work anymore. He’s tracking his own movements, listening in on the
house elves, and the wards he’s monitoring are linked to Hogwarts. The castle didn’t mind helping
me out with that.”

“He’s monitoring the house elves?” Severus started to chuckle, and Harry nodded gleefully. “Well,
that explains why he wants to collect you sooner— he won’t be able to reapply the charms without
access to you.”

“Yep!” Harry grinned, “And I’m not there!”

“I’m never letting him get his hands on you again,” Severus leaned up to kiss Harry. “I’m so proud
of you— you freed yourself from that old bastard.” He sighed, “I need to return to Hogwarts, soon.
He doesn’t know I’m gone, but if I stay away any longer, I’ll earn his suspicion, especially once he
realizes you’re gone.” He shifted out of the bed and smiled sadly at Harry.

“What are we going to do, Sev?” Harry’s eyes were full of worry for the future, and Severus knew
he was not only speaking of the immediate, but long term.

A tap on the door brought Honeycutt in. “Good morning, again, gentlemen.” He smiled, “I’m here
to make sure that everything’s healing the way it’s supposed to, and to let you know that so far all
is quiet in the wizarding world.”

Severus nodded his thanks, and stepped back from the bed. “I’m not sure, Harry. I will begin
looking for a safe house immediately, but I’m being watched.”

Harry nodded, and tolerated the healer’s magic. Honeycutt looked interested. “What if I were to
ask Melinda?” He glanced up at Severus for a moment, before turning back to Harry, “She’s my
sister, and she lives in the Caribbean, somewhere. I always forget what island. She stays mostly in
a large family place that belonged to her husband. It’s a giant old manor house connected to some
pure blood family of the new world. Her husband passed away five years ago, but she can’t bear to
leave the memories. She also has a small house of her own. It was part of her dowry, but she’s
never lived there. It might need some work to get it habitable, but I know her. She won’t get
involved in the war under any circumstances, but she’d be willing to offer safe harbor. It’d be safe
too. It’s under protective enchantments, unplottable, muggle-repelling, secrecy spells, the works,
and no one would connect you to her anyway.”

“If it is under so many enchantments, how can you reveal the place to us?” Severus asked, always
suspicious, especially of seemingly selfless offers of help.

“Ah, well, I hold most of the wards on it as the head of our family— it’s still a Honeycutt property
and it will always remain so, until a head of the family permits its sale. You’d find you were unable
to even mention it to one another, despite both of you knowing about it.”

Harry turned to Severus, and he watched as Harry tried over and over to talk about the house.
Finally, Harry gave up and turned to the healer, “That is brilliant. Even with all the spells around
headquarters, we could still talk about it.” He glanced at Severus, who nodded.

“Yes,” He agreed, “that was a ridiculous oversight— Dumbledore shared the secret with
schoolchildren and expected them to keep quiet about it.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and keeping the younger Weasleys quiet about it was a chore, let me
tell you. Though I think Hermione had fun hitting Ron whenever he got too loud about it.”

“The house sounds suitable, Julius.” Severus narrowed his eyes, “What’s the catch?” The man was
notoriously neutral, and had no reason to be helping them that much. The friendship they’d formed
years ago would stretch to emergency medical help, but long term housing was another thing
altogether.

Honeycutt smirked, “Ever suspicious, hm Severus?” The man waved away his objections and
ignored his raised eyebrow, “Look, my sister has been pining for her lost husband for more than
five years. They had two children. One died with his father, and their daughter is a money hungry
blood supremacist, who wrote off her family the moment she married. My brother-in-law was a
sailor— Captain, actually, and he and their eldest were capsized in a hurricane and unable to make
landfall and foolishly refusing to apparate away and abandon the ship. The wreckage was found,
but the cargo and all but three of the souls were lost. Melinda’s taking the whole captain’s widow
thing to heart far too much. She’s wasting away in that house, haunting his portrait and ignoring
the real world. She needs a distraction, someone to watch out for her, to draw her back into the
world and prove that there’s a reason to live. I think having a pregnancy to watch out for and a new
baby to look after is exactly what will help.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled, “So, you want me to spy on your sister?”

“Not exactly,” Honeycutt smiled, “I want you to take her with you when you go shopping for baby
clothes. I want you to accept her invitations to dinner or tea or whatever. I want you to complain to
her about your aching back and needing to pee every few minutes. And yes, if she’s withdrawing
too much, I’d like to know about it, but not in a way that would betray her confidences, should she
give them to you.”

Severus nodded, “You want her to have someone close by who will care.”

Honeycutt smiled, “And someone whom she can care for. She’s a loving woman with no one to
love. I think, Harry, that you have that in common with her.” The man shrugged. “I don’t want to
lose my sister to her despair, and I don’t want to lose you to this war. I think you could look after
one another.”

Harry shared a look with Severus, and he stepped close and took the younger man’s hand. “I think
we accept. Thank you, Julius.” He stepped closer and shook the healer’s hand, feeling so much
relief at finally having a safe place for Harry and his child.

Harry’s brow furrowed, and Severus recognized a thinking expression, “We’ll need to stop at
Gringotts, and I want you to stop at the post office to send a letter to Hermione for me. She’ll go
spare if I’m missing, and Dumbledore’s the one to tell her.”

“Of course,” Severus smiled. “We should have done that earlier.”

Harry shrugged, “She’s used to it. Summers are never the best for us. I hope she hasn’t been
calling the Dursleys, though. When Dumbledore made her swear not to write to me, she took to
making phone calls.”

“A very clever young woman,” Severus smiled at Harry. He never would have believed the
thought of Hermione Granger would make him smile at anyone, much less the Dumbledore’s
Golden Boy. “Very well, let her know what’s going on and that you are well and safe. I will
deliver the letter as soon as possible,” he turned to the healer. “Julius, I cannot thank you enough.
Let me know when everything is settled with your sister and Harry is healed enough to move.”
They shook hands again, and Honeycutt took his leave.

“Harry,” Severus turned to the bed again. He brushed Harry’s hair out of his eyes, and bent to press
a kiss to his lips. “I love you. I love you both. Stay safe, fy anwylaf . Please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Harry offered him a smile and another kiss. “We love you, too.”

Severus stepped from the room and hurried to the departure point in the hospital. He apparated into
the Forbidden Forest this time, slinking between the trees and into a side entrance that led directly
to the dungeons. He desperately needed some sleep. He only appeared for meals, and spent the rest
of his day napping.
 12 July 1996
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Severus spent most of the next day in the greenhouses helping Pomona get them into order for the
summer holidays. The plants that would bloom and thrive in the summer months needed tending,
and the elves that would look after them would need specific directions. They generally knew what
they were doing in the greenhouses, but elves worked best and were most satisfied when given
clear directions. The plants that would be dormant over the holiday also needed attention, as there
were pruning and stasis spells required.

It was mostly mindless work, and Severus wasn’t bothered by it. Indeed, he was happy to help out
and allow his brain to slowly churn over the problems he faced, as he clipped and cut and
fertilized. He enjoyed Pomona’s generosity with the rarer potions ingredients, so the work
benefited him, and the infirmary potion cupboard in the long run. The night before had been
entertaining. Dumbledore had returned from Surrey empty handed and spitting mad. As not even
the muggles knew what had happened to Harry, the headmaster hadn’t a single clue. Severus had
spent quite a while wondering what Dumbledore would do with this new development.

As it turned out, he had done nothing. Severus had been expecting a call to Dumbledore’s office
either for a strategy session or a full-blown Order meeting, but neither had happened yet. Perhaps
he thought that Harry had simply run to a friend’s house to escape the abuse, or that the boy had
taken to the streets somewhere and could be easily tracked. He chuckled. Not likely.

“That ought to do it for Greenhouse Two, Severus,” Pomona Sprout was heading his way, “and
thank you again for your assistance. Shall we head to dinner?”

“It’s no trouble. Don’t mention it,” He could ease up slightly on the unpleasant attitude around his
colleagues at least, but he drew the line at friendly. He and Pomona had always maintained a
cordial relationship. He kept a polite and collegial attitude with all the heads of house, in fact,
although he was a little frostier with Minerva than the others. He couldn’t help that. She had
looked the other way far too many times during his childhood, excusing the monstrous pranks and
horrid bullying going on within her house. Harry had dropped enough hints that he knew her
laissez-faire policies continued.

He had nearly gone to her when he heard about Norbert, and the detention Harry had served. No
first year should have had a detention at night in the Forest. It was unheard of. Draco had certainly
complained loudly enough at the time, but he had passed it off as typical Draco whinging, not
realizing the true extent of the danger. He shook his head. His godson complained about imaginary
slights often enough, and his lover refused to complain over entirely legitimate travesties. When
he’d heard that Harry had been ignored by the staff in every instance he went for help, he could
understand why his love kept to his own counsel, but that didn’t make him any happier about it.

The two professors approached the castle, and Pomona turned to him, “Severus, a word please,
before we go in?”

Curious, he nodded and turned away from the main doors to a small courtyard, sending a
cushioning charm at the stone bench and offering his colleague the seat. “What can I do for you,
Pomona?”

“I think it’s rather what I can do for you,” She had a gleam in her eye that he wasn’t sure he liked.
“Go on.” He folded his arms, and quieted the fluttering nerves that had built up.

“I noticed a certain preoccupation of yours over the last week or so of term,” she began, and his
dread swooped. “I tend to check on the astronomy tower during my rounds too, you know. I
noticed enough to give me pause, so I spent time observing the both of you. You’re both quite
circumspect, as a matter of fact, and I suspect he wasn’t sorted correctly, am I right?” She glanced
up at him with a slight smile on her lips, but Severus couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Relax,
Severus. I know you to be an honorable man, and I know the young man in question is as stubborn
as a mule when he’s convinced of something. I assume he was the driving force in any, um, shall
we say, developments in your relationship?”

A raised eyebrow was the only answer she got.

“Hmph, I am glad you’re no longer at odds with the boy, at least. He’s had a difficult time of it for
far too long, that one. I’ve tried over and over to get Poppy or Minerva to do something, but the old
bastard always seems to put his foot down, and the boy is left on his own again. Well, I don’t like
it. That old man and his plotting. His schemes and manipulations have everyone suffering but him.
As though his own hard work wouldn’t accomplish his goals just as easily. Laziness, that’s all it is.
The man is a puppet master— pulling the strings from the safety of backstage, while those in the
limelight risk everything.”

Severus tried to take in this new information, but was still struggling with the fact that not only had
she discovered his illicit romance, but she was encouraging it. He was certain that all his emotions
were written on his face, and could only marvel at the woman’s seeming acceptance.

“So,” Pomona continued, “You needn’t worry about my protesting the situation. I wouldn’t
normally condone something like this, but he’s the oldest teenager I’ve ever seen in a lifetime of
teaching them. He’s had responsibilities piled on his shoulders since he was eleven, and unless I
miss my guess, not much of a childhood before that. You’re good for him. I think I saw the boy
smile more in those last weeks, even in spite of the mourning he was doing. Hmph. You’re good
for each other, really, and should you require it, I shall offer sanctuary. For now, I merely wanted to
offer my support to you both, and my help should you need it.”

Stunned beyond words, Severus merely gaped at her. She had the audacity to giggle at him, and she
patted his arm as she stood and made her way into the great hall. He collapsed onto the bench she
had been sitting on, and put his head in his hands. He didn’t know what had given him away, but
he was appalled that she had learned his most important secret, and then had giggled over it. He
sighed, and pulled at his hair slightly, but stood and made his way into the castle behind her.

For all that the Head of Hufflepuff house had discovered his secret, he had to admit that she never
showed any indication of the change. If anything, he was acting far more suspicious than she,
spying on a woman he had barely taken any notice of before she had blown his mind with her
observations. He wondered what this might mean in the future, and in what ways she might offer
help.

Dinner was a subdued affair. His colleagues were having quiet intellectual conversations and
academic debates over their parsnips, while Severus was holding an internal debate over the merits
of meddling Hufflepuffs. He had decided that he would have to share the fact that Harry would not
be returning to Hogwarts in September and was considering whether to tell her why when
Dumbledore stopped behind his chair.

“I wonder if I might have a word with you in my office this evening, Severus? Around eight?”

He held off a shudder at having the man at his back, and replied calmly, “Of course, Headmaster.”
He sent a glance along the table and noticed that McGonagall was already standing up and heading
out of the Hall. He caught Pomona’s eye, and gave a subtle nod. He would fill her in soon.

He found select members of the Order of the Phoenix in Dumbledore’s office when he entered later
that evening. Remus Lupin was leaning against the wall on the far side of the round room, looking
miserable as always. McGonagall stood stiffly behind Dumbledore’s desk, slightly to the side.
Molly Weasley had sat herself in one of the arm chairs in front of the headmaster’s desk, looking
for all the world as though she was sat upon a throne. Her youngest son was sitting in the other
armchair, picking at his fingernails. Arabella Figg was wringing her hands and looking fretful in
one of the corners, while Kingsley Shacklebolt leaned against a bookshelf, looking fierce in his
auror’s robes, clearly just come off duty. He chose to stand next to the man, nodding in a silent
greeting to the rest of the room. He even managed not to sneer at the Weasley brat.

Dumbledore descended the stairs like royalty, and Severus bit his lip to keep from laughing. He
would have to find a way to share this memory with Harry. He knew the sarcastic remarks would
be gold.

“Thank you for gathering here, my friends,” the headmaster managed to twinkle his eyes and look
sad all at the same time. “I have some grave news. Last night, I went to retrieve young Harry from
his relatives’ home, so that he might visit with his friends for a bit during the summer.” Here the
old man paused to smile at the Weasley spawn. “Unfortunately, it seems that Harry has already left
home. Neither he nor any of his belongings can be found at his relatives house, and they know
nothing about his disappearance.”

Ah, so he must have at least attempted legilimency on the muggles. It was a good thing he had
waited till they had left the house after all. Not one of them saw him, and none of the neighbors
witnessed his approach or his and Harry’s retreat. They were in the clear. He wondered if the auror
amongst them would recognize the illegal look into non-magical minds.

Dumbledore might call it “retrieving Harry” and delivering him to “his friends,” but Severus
wasn’t having it. He planned on exchanging one prison for another. Harry was beaten bloody and
locked up when he was with the muggles, and slipped love and loyalty potions to control his mind
and emotions when he was sent to the Weasleys. Severus wanted to snort at the idea of the
Weasley brat and his Harry being friends, but managed to hold back. Abuse was abuse, whether it
was magical or muggle.

The uproar after Dumbledore’s news was entirely predictable. The Weasley matron was full of
histrionic exclamations and useless admonition. She immediately launched into a high pitched
urging of her son to write letters to Harry, as though pelting him with owls would endear them to
the boy. The useless lump in the chair next to her was gaping at the idea of his friend running
away, and trying to avoid his mother’s flailing and flapping. Severus suppressed a smirk.

McGonagall had been sending looks of frosty disapproval at Molly’s outburst, but said nothing to
the other woman. She instead chose to glare reproachfully at Dumbledore. “What’s been done to
locate him?” Her lips were in as thin a line as Severus had ever seen them. He wasn’t sure what to
do about Minerva. She seemed, in this moment, to be an advocate for the students, willing to point
out Dumbledore’s flaws and defend her lion. But he also knew that Harry didn’t trust her, Pomona
had tried to talk sense to her, and he himself had suffered her prejudices and bias.

The Scotswoman wasn’t done yet, “Albus, I swear, if I discover that they’ve mistreated him, and
that’s the reason he’s run away, I will roast your wrinkled old arse on a spit. I warned you. Fifteen
years ago, I warned you that they weren’t the sort of muggles who would properly care for a
magical child. I told you— they were the worst sort of muggles I’d seen. Can you honestly tell me
that time has improved them?”

“How can you say if they’ve mistreated him ,” Remus looked sharply at Minerva, and Severus
raised an eyebrow. “You are the Deputy Headmistress, did you not meet them when you brought
Harry his letter? You are his Head of House! If anyone ought to know about his home life, it
would be you! What about the guidance meetings or the health exams?”

McGonagall drew herself up, affronted. “The headmaster handled Harry’s home life. He liaised
with the Muggles, and took care of notifying them of Harry’s admittance to Hogwarts.” It took
more strength than he would have thought to prevent himself from rolling his eyes heavenward at
that declaration. The hypocrisy had become ludicrous. Despite having just finished taking
Dumbledore to task over Harry’s living conditions, she would still not hear a word against him. No
matter the evidence she saw with her own eyes at the Dursleys’ house, no matter her
responsibilities to her house and her students’ well being, no matter what others may have told her,
the headmaster remained infallible in her mind. He was the excuse and the reason for everything.
Severus carefully did not sigh in disappointment, but he felt it all the same. Minerva McGonagall
could have been a force to reckon with, instead, she was yet another piece on the headmaster’s
chessboard. He wasn’t even sure she was an important piece any longer.

It was Molly’s turn to wail, “But why? Why would he run away? And it’s so dangerous now, with
You-Know-Who out there.”

Remus answered her, his voice full of guilt, “Harry has already felt a need to run from home once
before. It was the summer before I taught here, if you remember.” Severus saw the man run a hand
over his face, grimacing at his own guilt. Severus had read the letter he’d sent Harry, knew the
accusations he’d thrown and the distance he had insisted upon. He was right to feel guilty.

“And he ran after first year, too,” Ronald finally had something helpful to add. “Me and the twins
helped.” He actually sounded proud of himself rather than worried at the home life that would
cause his best friend to run away three different times.

Kingsley eventually spoke up, his voice managing to calm the chaos, “What I have heard here
raises some serious questions.” He stood up from the wall and addressed the room. “Dumbledore,
did you notice anything in Harry’s homelife to give you pause when you delivered his Hogwarts
letter and explained about magic?” There was nothing in the Auror’s voice or attitude to offer
alarm, but Severus felt that Shacklebolt knew more than he had acknowledged.

Severus watched the old man squirm and barely held in his glee. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry
about with Harry’s relatives. It really was the best place for him. As to his Hogwarts letter, I
actually passed the task to Hagrid. He did an admirable job, and took care of it when he was
running some errands for me.”

Kingsley nodded, but Severus was watching his face closely, and noticed a sardonic twist to his
lips as he smiled. “Very well. So, we know nothing about his home life? Ronald? Has he said
anything to you? What did you see when you and your brothers helped him?”

“Well,” the redhead looked strangely thoughtful, “we went because Harry wasn’t writing to me or
answering any of my letters. When we got there, he was frantic. Said he’d been locked in. Fred and
George had to pick the locks on his door and get his trunk from somewhere, and we pulled the bars
off his window with the car.”

“I see,” Kingsley’s voice overrode all the panicked exclamations and accusations, “And Remus,
what do you know about the time he ran after his second year?”
“Ah, I don’t know much,” Remus equivocated, “I believe he inflated one of the Dursleys after he
had been insulted.”

“Oh, that!” Ronald exclaimed. “He blew up his aunt!” He paused to laugh at the situation. “Well,
she’s not his aunt, she’s like his aunt-in-law, I guess? She’s his uncle’s sister, and she was saying
horrible things about the Potters, so Harry got angry and fwoop!” He gestured with his hands,
miming something expanding, “She just started inflating. He didn’t get in trouble for it though.
The Minister fixed it for him.”

Kingsley was nodding again, “And now he has disappeared without a trace? Dumbledore, you are
certain that there is not a single clue left at the Dursley residence? Did you enter his room?”

Severus remembered the blood spatter and castoff that marked the walls, and the puddle that had
formed on the floor. He thought of the mess that was that horrid bed, the loose floorboard, and all
the locks on the door. He thought there was plenty of evidence of what had happened to Harry if
someone truly cared to look.

Dumbledore was shaking his head, but Kingsley continued before he could speak, “So, we have a
teenage boy from an unhappy home. His relatives, you say Minerva, are not of a generous or loving
spirit,” he paused and McGonagall harrumphed. “We know that in the past he has been locked into
a bedroom, from which he felt compelled to escape. We know that the adults in his life have
insulted and allowed others to insult him and his deceased parents, to the point that his magic
erupted and attacked one of them. We do not know the circumstances of this present escape, but I
do wonder why he was returned to this household when adults responsible for him,” and here,
Kingsley paused again shooting disapproving looks at every single person in the room, “should
have known better,” He bit out.

Severus felt like applauding, but forced his features into a sneer. He had a part to play, as always.
“It is hardly the fault of the headmaster or his teachers that the boy ran away from his home. He
has no understanding whatsoever of rules or safety precautions. He flouts them at every
opportunity.”

The headmaster cut him off, “Yes, Severus. That is not helpful at this moment, though. We need to
know if Harry ran off voluntarily or if he was taken by agents of Voldemort.” Severus grit his teeth
together at the name, but didn’t outwardly react. He watched the headmaster play at general
marshaling his troops. “Arabella,” he began, turning toward the woman all but hiding in the corner.
She hadn’t said a thing. “Did you see anything that would indicate where Harry has gone?”

Mrs. Figg just shook her head, “No Headmaster.” She said nothing else, and Severus cursed her for
a coward. If anyone in the room, other than himself of course, had knowledge of Harry’s abusive
homelife, it was this bitch, and she said nothing.

“I may know something,” Remus spoke up, and Severus shot him a look of pure hatred. The man
was a coward, and was now trying to ease his guilt with a public airing of his faults. The man
should be apologizing to Harry, not a room full of people he hadn’t wronged. “After Sirius died, I
was distraught, and I wrote Harry a letter, in which I blamed him for the disaster in the ministry. I
was wrong to do so, I know that now, but it may have contributed to his decision to leave home.”

Reactions varied. Molly’s hand fluttered at her breast, and she gasped, unconvincingly. Ronald
began chewing a hangnail. Figg continued the wringing of her hands. Shacklebolt’s jaw tightened
to the point it popped. The headmaster shot Lupin a trademarked look of disappointment, which
had a very practiced feel. “Remus, my boy, that may well have had unintended consequences. I
will need you to be on the lookout in Surrey for Harry’s trail, and perhaps to write again, in the
hopes of reconnecting.”
“If you think that’s best, Headmaster,” the werewolf’s shoulders slumped and Severus didn’t
bother to cover his disdain for the man. He had always been spineless. When they were teenagers,
he had, for the sake of his friends, stood aside and played witness to the bullying pranks the
Marauders inflicted upon innocent students. As an adult, he had abandoned Harry to the muggle
world on the say so of Albus Dumbledore. Then, as a teacher, he had singled the boy out, but
refused him the truth of their relationship. Harry had told him it had taken months to learn that
Lupin and James Potter had been friends. He hadn’t bothered to show any support of Harry in the
Death Tournament that was his fourth year, either. He pursed his lips and said nothing, though. He
was not there to offer assistance, after all.

Dumbledore nodded sagely, and Severus sniffed. “Arabella, my dear, you might be able to assist
Remus in looking through Surrey?”

The woman finally showed a bit of life, as she protested, “But headmaster! My cats! They would
never tolerate,” here her voice died away at the stern look from Dumbledore. She bowed her head,
“Very well, Mr. Lupin, I shall keep a lookout, but please do keep your distance from Mr. Tibbles,
he’s been poorly lately.”

Dumbledore nodded pleasantly as though he cared for the welfare of a few elderly kneazles.
“Ronald, you’ll need to write Harry as well. Let him know that we miss him and that he would be
welcome to come to your home. Molly, no howlers! We do not know where he is, and if he has
taken refuge in a muggle area, you risk the Statute of Secrecy. Instead, you will need to be on the
lookout in the magical alleys. You are a well known figure in the magical world, and hopefully, if
he sees you, he’ll know you are a safe person to turn to.”

Molly nodded importantly, and turned to Ronald to berate him about writing and the subjects he
would need to include in his letters. Severus meanwhile thought hard about those letters.
Something was causing him alarm, and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Kingsley shifted next to Severus and sent a disapproving glance around the room. Unfortunately
for the man, this drew the headmaster’s attention, and he got his own set of marching orders,
“Kingsley, I’ll need you to be alert within the ministry. Try to see about any reports of underage
magic, and keep an ear to the ground in case of any sightings.”

The man’s deep voice was reserved and slow, “I shall keep an eye out for the boy, certainly
Headmaster. No teenager deserves to be without protection in the world.” For some reason, the
phrasing in Kingsley’s statement, perhaps the emphasis on protection, perhaps the missing promise
to alert the headmaster, eased something in Severus even as it made a small tick appear in
Dumbledore’s jawline. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to share Harry’s location with the
auror, but he also could probably count on Shacklebolt to listen to Harry, if he was discovered.

The meeting broke up not long after that, but the headmaster held Severus behind for some reason.
He met Shacklebolt’s eyes as the man strode from the room, but he failed to understand any
message that might have been in them. He glanced briefly at McGonagall, but she was already
leaving the office, her stride brisk. He knew she had strong morals, but she never seemed to act on
them when it came to Harry’s well being. He suspected some strong confundus charms, or perhaps
an obliviation or two.

Sighing, he turned to Dumbledore with an eyebrow raised in inquiry. “Severus, my boy, I need you
to brew some tracking potions. We must find Harry. It’s imperative that he face Voldemort at the
right time, and we cannot have him in danger.” Severus withheld his wince at Dumbledore’s use of
the name. He wondered at the sadistic tendencies of the man. Not only did the mark cause him
pain, but the Dark Lord was likely to replace the taboo on it, so Dumbledore’s insistence that
 others likewise use the name only put them into danger as well.

“Certainly, I shall,” Severus nodded. “They will require samples of Potter’s blood and magic, in
order to be effective, however.”

“Not to worry, my boy,” the old man twinkled at him. “I have the necessaries. We do not need to
add them until the potion is brewed, though, correct?”

“Indeed.” Severus bit back the scathing reply that he wanted to give. Dumbledore should not have
access to another wizard’s magic or blood profiles. They were typically kept only in medical
records, and used only for safeguards or identification for certain types of high security goblin
vaults. His lips thinned as he wondered what else Dumbledore had so readily to hand.

“I wonder, though,” Dumbledore had perfected an innocent expression that made him seem more
like a dotty old man, than the master manipulator he was. “Can you see what you make of this?”
He handed over a delicate silver ornament issuing small puffs of vapor, setting it on the desk when
Severus refused to take it into his hand.

Severus narrowed his eyes, and tightened his magic around himself, pulling it back into his core as
closely as possible. He carefully tapped one finger to the side of the thing, and watched the smoke
emerge from the top. He then rubbed his fingers into the cloud. “It appears to be monitoring the
life of a wizard.” He deduced that this was one of the trackers Harry had reassigned to Dumbledore
himself. He glanced carefully up at the old man.

“Yes, that is its purpose,” He nodded and smoothed down his beard. “Harry’s life, in fact. That is
how I remain confident that he will be found.”

“Are you certain?” Severus held back his smirk.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, but then smiled rather like a smug grandfather proud of a
three-year-old learning a new word, “Quite certain, my boy.”

“Very well,” Severus nodded. “Then, I wonder why you needed my input upon the thing.
Dumbledore, really, if you are going to waste my time with trivialities you already know the
answer to, I must protest. I have far better things to do with my time.”

“Not a waste, Severus, no, not a waste.” The man smiled again, and Severus wanted to punch his
teeth in. “Simply a reassurance that the tracking potions will not be brewed in vain.”

“I see.” Severus snapped. He really was quite angry by this time. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be in my
office, Albus.”

He turned and swooped out of the office, his robes billowing behind him. He knew better than to
approach Pomona that evening. He would do nothing so obvious, but he did take the time to
arrange his thoughts, and plan his discussion with the witch. They would be cleaning out the
advanced level greenhouses the next day, which, with the right privacy and muffling spells, would
be an excellent opportunity for sharing information.

Chapter End Notes

Well, my travels are over, so we should be back on a fairly regular schedule for
updates on this. Jet lag is kicking my butt, though— I’m either utterly exhausted and
accidentally unproductive as a result, or I’m wishing I was exhausted, and deliberately
unproductive in the hopes of some sleep. Gah…

All the best to all of you in this new year. May it be fresh with hope and joy for you.
 13 July 1996
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Severus rose early the next day. He began with coffee in his own rooms. Breakfast would have to
be taken in the Great Hall, but he enjoyed these moments of quiet, composing a letter to Harry as
he finished a second cup. He would send it directly to Honeycutt’s home, and he would, Severus
hoped, deliver it to Harry’s hospital room promptly.

Fy Anwylaf,

I’m afraid you must leave or risk Dumbledore’s discovery. He has finally called together a few
members of the Order of the Phoenix, and informed them of your departure from Surrey. He has
charged Ronald Weasley and Remus Lupin with writing to you. Ordinarily, I would simply warn
you to beware of an influx of owls; however, St. Mungo’s collects all mail for patients generally,
and then distributes it to their rooms or wards individually.

The Order will not know immediately where you are without soaking their letters in a tracking
potion, which I am brewing very—very— slowly. However, that is moot, if some welcome witch or
eager volunteer notices mail for “The Chosen One” piling up. Your stay in St. Mungo’s will
undoubtedly become public knowledge sooner rather than later. Fortunately, all medical records
are confidential and covered with several oaths and vows. Additionally, Honeycutt is an intelligent
man and will know not to keep paperwork. No one knows who your healer is, beloved. The public
will know you were a patient, but only the three of us will ever know why.

Kingsley is to be keeping a watch on underage magic reports as well as rumors around the
ministry. Molly will be blustering her way around Diagon looking for you and projecting a feeling
of safety and home for you to run toward. I know you cannot see it, but I am rolling my eyes quite
dramatically. Lupin and Figg are keeping watch in Surrey, and of course, Dumbledore is relying
on Lupin’s loyalty and heightened senses to sniff you out, as it were. I believe the wolf is regretting
his letter to you, but please be cautious with him. I think his loyalty will always belong to the old
man first.

I will be following this owl as soon as possible, and we will discuss options. I would like to take you
directly to Honeycutt’s safe house, but that might be impossible for several reasons. Do not fear—
anxiety will be bad for the baby, at any rate— I will keep you safe and secret. At a last resort, we
will stash you at my childhood home. I usually spend as little time there as possible, but it is
generally unknown, and therefore safer than a hotel or a known residence such as your Granger’s
home.

Speaking of your friend. I slipped away yesterday, and handed her your letter. I do not know what
you wrote, but the look she leveled at me would have peeled paint from the walls. You have a
staunch defender, my love. She has asked me to tell you she agrees. Her exact words, I believe,
were: “Tell the daft git I am tempted to refuse because I can’t believe he thought he needed to ask.
Of course the answer is yes. It will always be yes. Who else would it be?” She then proceeded to
rant for approximately five minutes about self-esteem and friendship. Can I assume she has agreed
to become godmother?

I have some interesting and possibly disturbing news. We have been discovered, Harry! Calm
yourself, as all is, I believe, fine. I was assisting Professor Sprout with the cleaning and closing of
the greenhouses for the summer, and on the way back for a meal, she asked for a word. As it turns
out, she must have seen more than she should have one night while we were at the top of the
Astronomy Tower. She then offered her support and her assistance, should we need either in the
future. She appears to have no loyalty or indeed much affection for the old man, and from what I
gather, she thinks of me as honorable and you as stubborn and mature.

Harry, what is your opinion of the woman? I believe she might be an ally, and we could use more
of those, but I will not share your secrets without your approval. I will have to tell her that you are
safe and will not be attending school next year. She will worry otherwise, and possibly reveal more
than we would wish.

I will see you soon, beloved. If I am not there by midday, have Honeycutt ask someone from the
potions department to request my consultation on some sort of problem. If the letter arrives during
dinner, I shall have the excuse necessary to leave and get you properly settled somewhere safe.

I miss you, Harry. I miss your conversation and your kisses, the light in your eyes when you are
excited and the way in which you keep me on my toes. I particularly miss you in my bed, which is
far too big and cold for one. I shall see you as soon as I possibly can, and I will be free for the
summer by tomorrow. In the meanwhile, stay safe.

Yours,

Severus

Severus sealed up the letter, cast the appropriate spells for secrecy, and collected a few other letters
he needed to post. He always sent the list of ingredients needed to replenish the store cupboards to
the apothecary early in the summer. This allowed the man to ready his order for pick up at the end
of the summer, without the bothersome issues of on-hand stock or backordering. It would be a
good excuse and could cover his trip to the owlery, should Dumbledore become suspicious now
that his Golden boy was missing.

He checked the status of the tracking potion, and smiled. Oh yes, it would be a while before he had
it finished, and even then he had guaranteed it would not work. He smiled slightly as he stalked his
way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He was met with a smiling Pomona Sprout and a scowling Minerva McGonagall, but it seemed the
other professors were having a lie in. He nodded briefly at both women, and sat in front of his eggs
and bacon.

“Severus,” Pomona called from the other side of McGonagall. “Do you think you might find some
time during the day to assist with Greenhouse Five? I can manage the plants in there better with an
extra set of hands, and you were so helpful yesterday.”

“Of course,” He glanced at her and nodded, knowing that the woman had more on her mind than
plants. “I am at your disposal, today.”

And that was that. The other teachers began filing into the Hall and serving themselves portions of
breakfast, and the noise around them rose. Severus sat sipping on a second cup of coffee as he
waited for the herbology mistress to finish her conversation with Professor Vector, but eventually,
both were on their way down to the greenhouses.

As they made their way out of the castle, Severus glanced at his companion. “Do you truly need
assistance or is this merely a way to wheedle further information about my private life?”

“Why can’t it be both?” She replied with a smirk. “It can also, if you require it, be an excuse to slip
into the forest and off for a visit.”

He nearly missed a step. It would be perfect. “I shall take you up on that offer in particular,
Pomona, but first let’s settle your plants.”

“Tell me something first,” She turned to face him, all teasing gone from her face. “Is he safe and
healthy?”

“He is now safe, and he is becoming healthier.” A dark look filled her eyes at his words, and she
cursed as she strode directly into the greenhouses. Severus mused that he had never seen anyone
with an angrier walk than a badger with overworked mothering instincts. He would never
underestimate Hufflepuffs again.

As they cleaned the workspaces and wrangled the plants into their summertime habitats, Severus
told Pomona of finding Harry in desperate need of medical attention. He did not disclose the nature
of the injuries or how they were administered, but he knew the woman was not a fool. He told her
he had had to dismantle several monitoring spells before feeling safe to move Harry, and he
watched her eyes flare. Her movements with the Tentacula became harsher than was safe, and he
put a hand on her arm. “Calm yourself. He is safe and healing.” He smiled at the woman, who took
a deep breath and put her shears down on the workbench.

“He’s not returning to Hogwarts, is he?” She glanced over at him, and he shook his head. She
nodded. “Whatever you need Severus. Either of you.”

“In truth, I think he would appreciate mail. News, lessons, book reviews, gardening tips, anything,”
Severus smiled at her. “He has a sharper mind than I ever gave him credit for. He’s already done
amazing things. Helped me one night with a potions problem I’d spent months puzzling over—
solved it in a few hours, and created two new versions of skelegro that affect the body in slightly
different ways. It will allow healers to tailor their treatment of bone breaks and regeneration.”
Severus stopped speaking when he realized he was gushing over Harry’s accomplishments.

Pomona smiled softly at him, and patted his arm. “I shall certainly send along greetings and
perhaps a few journal articles as well. I suppose I can pass messages along through you?”

He nodded, “Or Hermione Granger.”

“Hermio—“ Her eyes grew round. “Do you mean to tell me that that rule-loving, teacher’s pet,
know-it-all actually knows and approves of your relationship?”

“Well,” Severus smirked as he sat up from where he had been pruning a Fire Seed Bush, and
removed his dragon-hide gloves to wipe the sweat from his brow. He hated working with the plant,
but the seeds were incredibly useful. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one they hoodwinked.”
He chuckled.

“Hoodwinked?” Came the squawked reply.

“Indeed,” Severus shook his head. “Harry is brilliant, and he learned very early on to hide his
intelligence. When he arrived at Hogwarts, he could see clearly through certain manipulations. He
learned quickly that he was only expected to do well in Defense classes, so continued to play the
fool, so to speak, in his other classes. Ms. Granger realized what was happening early on, and the
two adapted their roles to draw attention away from Harry.”

Pomona’s mouth was hanging open as she looked at Severus. “It is true, Pomona. And all that
hand-waving and wriggling about is part of their act. In Harry’s own words, who would notice
whether Harry Potter knew anything in the midst of the maelstrom that is Hermione Granger
answering a question .”

“W-well,” she had finally gathered her wits, “Well, I never!”

Severus grinned at the woman and nodded. “I was quite put out at learning that, too. Yes, the girl is
intelligent. According to Harry, she has an eidetic memory and can’t help sounding exactly like a
textbook on legs, but she is also trustworthy, and a loyal friend.”

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. Not that I’m surprised at all, of course, at Harry’s intelligence. It
only makes sense that you would find a partner with brains. But my goodness, Granger’s attitude
an act.” She shook her head. “I never would’ve guessed it. Well,” she stood and placed her hands
on her hips, “Shall I assume by his mood this morning, that the headmaster knows that Harry is not
where he wants him any longer?”

Severus nodded, “A fair assumption. I believe that by this evening, tomorrow morning at the very
latest, he will have a fair idea of where he is, though. I need to get him into a new situation before
that, if possible.”

Pomona sighed and smiled at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? You know that way leads
directly into the forest, and from there you should be able to apparate anywhere you need to be. I’ll
be able to cover at least two hours, possibly three, if you desperately need them.” She smiled and
shooed him out the back door. “And let him know I’ll do my best for him,” she called after him.
Severus looked back, nodded, and then disappeared amongst the trees.

He wondered at all the apparating he was doing over the last few days, but needs must, so he
popped from the forest into Glasgow, and from there, he appeared in a hidden alley of York. He
made a quick visit to a small town in Sussex where he applied a disillusionment charm, before
finally popping into the waiting room of St. Mungo’s. He worked his way to Honeycutt’s office,
but found it empty. Leaning up against the bookshelf, he had no choice but to wait for the man to
return and hope it didn’t take too long.

Twenty minutes later, Julius entered the office and took a cautious look around. Severus dispelled
the charm and stood up straight. “Julius,” the man’s eyes jumped to Severus’ and his shoulders
dropped.

“I know we’re in a hospital, Severus, but that’s no reason to give me a heart attack.”

“Apologies. We need to speak.” Honeycutt had already closed the door, and was busy setting the
privacy and silencing charms around his office. Severus nodded his thanks, “Dumbledore knows
Harry is no longer with his relatives. He has no idea where he is, but there’s a problem. He has
asked several people to write to Harry, and I worry about the letters piling up wherever St.
Mungo’s collects patient mail. Someone is bound to notice letters for Harry Potter sitting around
somewhere.”

“I see,” Honeycutt frowned. “I gave him your letter when I brought his breakfast around nine. You
already told him the news?” Severus nodded. “Right, well, there’s nothing for it, he’ll have to be
moved.”

Severus nodded. “That was my assessment as well. Some post may have already been sent, but I
doubt it. If we can get him out of here now, they’ll never know he was here. Even if a letter has
arrived, it may not be noticed till later, and probably not publicized until tomorrow. Once it’s in the
Prophet , Dumbledore will have the entire Weasley clan staking out the waiting room.”
“Oh dear. Merlin forbid,” Honeycutt drew his hand over his eyes, imagining the nightmare that
would be. Trainee Healer Augustus Pye still hadn’t recovered from Molly Weasley’s lecture last
Yule.

“Indeed.” Severus smirked at the expression on Julius’ face. “Can we see Harry now? Is he safe to
move? I can take him to my house, for a few days, if you still need to speak with your sister.”

“She’ll take him in, if it’s an emergency, but another day or two would be helpful. I believe she
wants to get the place habitable first.” They were speaking quietly as they walked toward Harry’s
room.

“That would be ideal, actually. I’ll be finished with Hogwarts by tomorrow. He can stay the night
at my house, and once I’m free, we can make plans together before we get him settled. I would like
to join him there for a while before I have to return.” Severus raised his eyebrows in question.

“Of course,” Honeycutt waved his hand dismissively. “As far as I’m concerned, the house is yours
for the duration— come and go as you please.”

“Julius,” Severus paused just outside Harry’s rooms and looked the man steadily in the eye. “You
are offering safe harbor to my partner and my child. Truly, I am in your debt.”

“There are no debts between friends, Severus.” Honeycutt gave him a soft smile before shaking the
outstretched hand, and then pushing the door to Harry’s room open.

Harry was wearing the tee shirt Severus had packed away for him, along with some soft jogging
trousers, and was fast asleep on the hospital bed when they entered. Severus shook his shoulder
lightly to wake him.

“Hm, wha? Lunchtime?” Harry’s eyes opened, and he smiled, “Sev!” He leaned up for a kiss.
“Izzit time to go already?”

Severus nodded. “Are you ready?”

“Mmmhmm,” Harry slipped from the bed, and pulled on his trainers. “Already packed up, but I got
sleepy.” He leaned close to Severus and wrapped his arms around him. “Wher’we goin?”

“I am taking you to my home in Cokeworth. You can lay low there for a day or two, while I finish
the last day at Hogwarts, and Julius arranges our move with his sister,” Severus kissed Harry’s
forehead. “Come, beloved. We must go now. Where’s your cloak?”

With a wave, Julius brushed off his thanks, “No need, Severus. Harry, you still need another three
doses of the antibiotic potion. You’re clear for fever reducers whenever you need, and I shan’t let
you move into Melinda’s until we’ve removed the block on your magic. It’s just too dangerous,
especially with you carrying.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, simply. “And thank you for everything. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Wait till you’ve had your first dinner with Melinda before you say that.” Julius smirked, but
Severus could see the affection in his eyes that seemed to be for both Harry and his sister.

“All right, Harry, cloak on.” Harry stepped forward to shake Honeycutt’s hand one last time, before
flinging the cloak over both of them. Severus smiled down at Harry, before guiding him out of the
warded room and into the hall.

As he passed Julius, he heard a brief, “Good luck, may magic bless your way” murmured under the
man’s breath, and he brushed an invisible hand over the man’s shoulder.

Leading Harry back through the corridors and toward the departure point of the hospital was tricky.
They had to stay close, and Severus had to stoop slightly or risk his ankles being seen, but this
made them a larger target in the occasionally busy halls. They very nearly upset a tray full of
potions, before he managed to steady it.

Once they reached the reception room, and the section of the floor reserved for apparition, Severus
leaned close to whisper, “You weren’t awake for this last time. I warn you now, it feels decidedly
uncomfortable, but I shall make it as smooth and direct as I possibly can.”

“Just take me home, Sev.” Harry leaned in to his body and wrapped his arms around Severus’
waist. Severus smiled, and in a blink they were in the familiar, gloomy sitting room of his house in
Spinner’s End.

He did not laugh as Harry bent over, bracing himself on his knees, and gagging. “What was that?”

“Apparition, love,” Severus helped him over to the sofa, and cursed when they brought up a cloud
of dust as they sat. Spelling it away, he pulled Harry close into his chest. “How are you feeing?”

“Queasy, but okay.” Harry glanced around the room, and Severus tried not to feel self-conscious.
“This is your house?”

“Yes, welcome to Spinner’s End. I inherited it when my father passed. It’s a muggle house, so
there’s electricity and appliances and such. I’ll have to go soon. Pomona Sprout is covering for my
absence, but I don’t want to cause her problems. We have time enough to get you settled in. I
should be back here in a little more than twenty-four hours, though. Then, we just have to wait on
Julius to get us word that everything is okay.”

“Cool, I still have all that food you packed up, and Healer Honeycutt gave me the potions I’ll need,
so I’m all set.” Severus looked closer at Harry, and saw his love putting a brave face on the
situation despite the slight tremor in his voice.

“Come on then, I’ll give you the tour.”

It didn’t take long. The kitchen was minuscule and utilitarian—the only thing found in the fridge a
small box of soda bicarbonate to mitigate any foul smells. Some ancient spices lined one of the
cupboards, but they were only fit for the rubbish bin. A few chipped plates and cups remained, and
Harry set an old-fashioned kettle to boil on the hob in the hopes of a cup of tea only to find no tea
in the house at all. He turned the heat back off, and Severus promised to send some tea by that
afternoon.

Upstairs, in the smaller bedroom, Harry had fun looking through a bookshelf and old vinyl
collection. Clearly, it had been Severus’ teenage bedroom, and he hadn’t cleared it out completely
when he moved into the master. Severus rolled his eyes and pulled Harry along to the bathroom,
running the taps to ensure the water was clear and ran hot when needed.

In the master bedroom, a large, ebony four-post bed dominated, but a matching wardrobe and chest
of drawers crowded in. Harry sat on the aging bedding, and wrung his fingers together as his eyes
followed Severus around the room. Severus was busy putting Harry’s belongings around the room,
resizing his trunk, stowing the rescued treasures on one of the bedside tables, only to turn and see
his love acting very out of character.

Severus left his fussing behind, and sat next to Harry on the bed. He took one of Harry’s hands,
and raised it to his mouth, before dropping them both back to his lap, just holding on and
cherishing being close before he would have to leave. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I— I don— It’s just— I’ve never needed help like this before. I was always able to do what
needed to be done, endure what I had to, and save myself from whatever,” he waved his hand as
though to encompass many different potential threats, and knowing his Harry as he did, the threats
were real and potentially life threatening. “It was always me who faced off against the big
problems, took action, did something. Now,” his voice trailed away. “It doesn’t feel the same. I
don’t really know what to do.”

The helpless tone in Harry’s voice tugged at Severus’ heart. He knew Harry needed to stay out of
the major action in this case, but he could tell it would be difficult. “Shh, love. You’re already
doing it. You’re carrying our child, you’re staying clear of all the threats, and because I refuse to let
your magnificent brain stagnate, you will eventually be self-studying your N.E.W.T. lessons. No, it
probably doesn’t feel the same— you aren’t charging off into action. In some ways, remaining safe
and trusting in the ability of others is going to be more difficult, but believe me, all of us, any of us
you would come charging in to rescue, would far, far rather you kept yourself and our child out of
danger.”

Severus held Harry close and rested his chin on the top of his head. They sat in silence together for
several long minutes, before he finally lifted his head. He leaned close and kissed Harry breathless
before standing. “I must return. We are nearing the limits Pomona set when she offered me the
chance to leave.”

Harry smiled up at him, “Tell her anything you think she needs to know. I trust your judgment,
Sev.”

Severus swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He raised a hand to Harry’s cheek and
pressed another kiss to his lips before swiftly turning and heading down the stairs. His father had
absolutely refused to have a floo connection installed, and Severus had never bothered once the
house became his, so he walked down the path to the end of the wards and apparated into the
forest.

He stepped into the back of the greenhouse and could hear Pomona arguing with someone. As he
got closer, he could see the headmaster’s robes, and heard him pressing the herbology professor for
his whereabouts. He quickly grabbed up a bag of fertilizer, and called toward the front of the
greenhouse.

As he came around the corner, he widened his eyes in a show of surprise. “Oh, hello, Albus. I
didn’t realize you were here. Pomona, here,” he set the bag down next to his colleague. “I believe
there are three more bags in the same store cupboard, if you have need.”

“Oh, thank you, Severus.” She smiled knowingly, “I have just been telling Albus how much help
you’ve been to me lately.”

“Not at all,” he shrugged away her praise. “You had it well in hand, and I can only be grateful to
you for keeping me busy these last few days.”

“Severus,” Dumbledore began in a chiding voice clearly meant to shame him, “I’m surprised to see
you here, when I know you’ve been working on a few potions?”

Severus bristled. He knew he had to play nicely with Dumbledore for the time being, but he hated
the man in ways he had never hated anyone before. Talking with Harry had opened his eyes to the
man’s manipulations, and though he had no proof, he now believed that Dumbledore had intended
 for him to join the Dark Lord. “Albus, I have never failed to produce a potion you requested, nor
shall I this time. The ingredients are stewing and do not need my intervention till well past the
evening meal. You will have your potion when it is brewed, and I will thank you not to cast doubts
on my dedication nor my ability.”

He used the excuse to storm off deeper into the greenhouses, and as he left, he heard Pomona
defending him, “Really Albus, Severus is an extremely hardworking man, and doesn’t deserve—“
Her voice trailed off.

He spent the rest of the day assisting with the greenhouses and wishing he was free to return home.
As they walked up to the castle, he mentioned Harry’s pregnancy, and endured the older woman’s
exclamations of delight. She wasn’t thrilled that Harry would be leaving Hogwarts, and Severus did
not tell her where they would be setting up their new home, but she was appropriately
congratulatory all the same. It left him feeling somewhat as though reality had slipped from his
grasp, but she offered to send along NEWT herbology lessons, so that Harry could self-study if he
wished to.

Severus was simply happy to have a sympathetic and encouraging support in the castle. That it was
Pomona Sprout was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Chapter End Notes

I totally would’ve been a Hufflepuff if I had the opportunity.

 14 July 1996

Severus found it hard to believe he had actually woken in a reasonably good mood that morning.
Of course, that had been on the understanding that he would be free to finally leave Hogwarts and
spend time with Harry, ensuring he was healthy and strong before they left to see the Caribbean. It
was going on lunch, and Dumbledore had yet to release the staff. He wasn’t the only one shooting
glares at the headmaster.

He could not afford to appear even the slightest bit anxious to leave, however, as Dumbledore
knew full well that he had no family, few friends, and nothing waiting for him at home. So,
instead, he silently fumed as he watched the other teachers file into the Great Hall for the midday
meal. McGonagall in particular was feeling rebellious.

“Albus, for goodness’ sake!” She threw her hands in the air as she paced toward her seat. “I have
marked all the exams, I have completed the House check for Gryffindor, I have finalized the
financial reports— which were your responsibility anyway— and I have planned the entirety of
next year’s lessons, what more do you want from us? Any of us? You have a school full of
frustrated professors who cannot find any further school work to do. Soon, we shall be starting a
book club, for Merlin’s sake, simply to keep ourselves occupied.”

Pomona spoke up, nodding fervently at McGonagall as she did. “Indeed, Headmaster. The
greenhouses have been settled for the summer, Hufflepuff dorms are cleaned and closed, and I
have a family I should like to visit.”

“Really Headmaster,” Aurora Sinistra, who rarely spoke up during faculty meetings or meals,
added her opinion. “I’ve been twiddling my thumbs for over a week. I think all of us who are not
Heads of House have been. What can you mean by keeping us all here, locked away from our
loved ones?” She shared a private glance with Rolanda Hooch, that indicated she was not locked
away from all of her loved ones. Severus smirked as he thought of all the thumb-twiddling those
two might have been doing, and then felt a stab of jealousy and wished Harry was still in the castle
as well.

“Clearly,” he finally spoke up, “the headmaster has a good reason for keeping us all, and he has
promised to release us today.” Severus and several others all looked expectantly at Dumbledore for
an explanation of the ‘good reason’ they had been kept so long.

“Forgive me, friends,” Dumbledore waved his hands expansively. “I simply could not part with
your wisdom and companionship. It does get lonely here in the summers. I shall release the staff
promptly after lunch, although Severus, I do wish you would stay behind for a quick
conversation.”

Severus knew very well that the conversation would neither be quick nor enjoyable, but rolling his
eyes slightly, he nodded his agreement. The rest of the staff sighed mightily in relief and applied
themselves diligently to the cottage pie and steamed vegetables, obviously hoping to leave sooner.

Severus merely stabbed at his food, pushing it around the plate and glowering at it. He glanced
around, and saw most of the plates were emptying swiftly and pushed back from the table, “If you
will excuse me, I need to check on that potion you requested.”

“Of course, my boy, of course. And I hope to see you in my office soon for our chat.” Severus
acknowledged the order with a curt nod and strode from the room. He had kept the tracking potion
under stasis, in the seemingly vain hope it wouldn’t be called for, but he supposed the moment had
been reached. He removed the stasis spell, and bottled a small amount up. It wouldn’t work. He
had already exchanged the poppy leaves for seeds, which would prevent the blood sample from
bonding with the potion, and adding the smallest possible pinch of powdered billiwig sting would
prevent any magic from bonding. It would be undetectable, and he could blame the quality of the
samples Dumbledore had collected. Hopefully, the man would destroy them if they proved so
useless.

He glanced once again around the defense teacher’s rooms. It had been uncomfortable, sleeping
here, the new place causing him to wake at every strange noise or unfamiliar light. At least he had
changed the bed. He did not relish sleeping in the same bed that once had belonged to Umbridge,
and before her Crouch Jr., Lupin, Lockheart, and the Dark Lord. He shuddered, and wished again
for his dungeons.

He had packed all his most personal belongings into his standard traveling case, leaving it by the
door. He had scattered a few impersonal items around the room, that would present an illusion of
his having settled in, but which he knew would reveal nothing of his true alliances or emotions. He
bottled up his altered tracking potion, picked up the valise next to the door, and set out for
Dumbledore’s office. He hoped that arriving luggage in hand, he would finally be allowed to leave
the castle.

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore called as he knocked at the door, “Come in, my boy, come in.” He
repressed a smirk as he watched the man’s eyes narrow at the sight of his suitcase. “Oh. You’re all
packed, then?” The question fell flat.

“I am,” Severus nodded. “I made some arrangements after you announced your plan to release us
today. An acquaintance was in London to confer on a potion with St. Mungo’s. He asked for an
opinion, and I agreed to meet for drinks later. I should still be able to drop my things at home
before the appointment.”

“Who is your friend?” Severus heard the mistrustful and hungry tone of the headmaster’s voice. He
knew that the old man would love to have another potions master to manipulate and subvert, and
that he didn’t like the idea of anyone drawing Severus himself away from Dumbledore’s sphere of
influence.

“Oh no one of importance. Merely a brewer I met at a conference several years ago.” Severus
waved a hand to dismiss the mythical colleague of whom he spoke.

Dumbledore twinkled at him, “Oh, my boy. Must you be so dismissive of others? St. Mungo’s
obviously thought highly enough of him to confer regarding the problem, even passing over your
own more local talent.”

“That, Albus, is neither here nor there. I published an article disproving the pet theory of the head
of their potions department. Since then, I have not been called upon for consultations with any sort
of regularity.” Severus sniffed as though insulted, when truth be told, he couldn’t care less. The
woman at St. Mungo’s was a competent Potioneer, but her ego would always be in her way. He had
professional and amicable connections with several members of her staff, however, and he knew
the story would hold up. “But aside from that issue, I have completed your tracking potion, and I
wanted to get it to you before I leave for the summer. I wish you a good holiday, Headmaster.” He
did not smile, but nodded his head more pleasantly than usual as he passed over the phial of
greenish, smoking liquid.

“Excellent, Severus, excellent, as usual.” Dumbledore grinned at the potion before setting it on his
desk. “I shall not keep you, then from your meeting. Have a pleasant summer.”
And with that, Severus was free. He did not run from Dumbledore’s office, but he did stalk through
the corridors slightly faster than usual, and he reached the apparition point beyond the gates of the
school with something almost like a smile on his face.

As a precaution, he bounced around the country four or five times, before landing in Cokeworth
and walking across an empty lot and a derelict bridge toward his home. He placed his palm against
the front door, allowing his wards to sense the familiar touch of his magic, before opening it and
stepping into the hall.

His home had been transformed. He goggled at the front hall. The bookshelves were still in place,
but they had clearly been dusted, the floors swept and polished. He peeked into the sitting room,
where he found an overstuffed sofa in black suede, with two matching armchairs pulled up toward
the fireplace, surrounding a walnut coffee table that had not been there before. A fire crackled
merrily in the grate, and two throw blankets, one in a myriad of shades of green, and the other a
mismatched but cheerful rainbow of colors, were tossed carelessly over the back of the sofa. As in
the hall, the floors had been swept and polished, but in here, a soft throw rug in dove grey had been
added. Above the mantle, some of his most precious photos had been showcased in new and
tasteful frames. He saw his eleven-year-old self with his tired-looking mother in front of the
Hogwarts Express, another of him and Lily laughing together in the park as children. He frowned
as he didn’t remember taking the one of him together with Harry, but there they were, smiling at
one another and leaning against the railing of the astronomy tower. He reached a finger out to trace
along the frame.

“Are you mad?” Harry’s voice was full of worry.

“Mad?” Severus turned and smiled at his young lover. “Why would I be mad? No one has ever put
so much care into this old house, and your choices clearly took my style and preferences into
consideration. This is a lovely gift, Harry. Thank you. I am simply confused— when did we take
this photo?”

“Oh,” Harry grinned a bit ruefully, “we, um, didn’t. When Hagrid gave me a photo album at the
end of my first year, I loved everything about it. So, Mione and I learned a spell for turning
memories into photos. It doesn’t always work, the emotion of the memory has to be exactly right,
but, well,” he shrugged and looked down.

“Come here,” Severus pulled him into his arms, and kissed the mop of hair. “I love it. You’ve been
here twenty-four hours and turned this ramshackle collection of bad memories into a home. It’s
more than just furniture. It’s you.”

“Well, come on then, and see the rest!” Harry pulled him along into the tiny kitchen. There was
barely room for both of them, but they managed by standing very close to one another. The room
was just as small as ever, but Harry had lightened it up considerably. The area was cleaned, for
one. Severus would never stand for a dirty kitchen, of course, but it hadn’t ever shone with this
level of cleanliness. He had replaced the old appliances with newer models that seemed to do more
while taking up less space. The cupboards had been repainted in a crisp white that added to the
clean feeling. The window over the sink had also been washed, and hung with a new curtain, white
with a black checkerboard border at the lower edge under a thin red stripe. It was the only flash of
color in the room, and Severus found that he didn’t mind it as much as he would have thought.
Opposite the preparation area was a small kitchen table with a light oak finish and two straight-
backed chairs, whose cushions also bore the checkerboard pattern. All in all, it was a completely
different space.

“How did you do all this, Harry?” Severus wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and rested his
chin on his shoulder. “You were meant to be resting.”

“I was,” Harry leaned into him, and Severus could hear the smile in his voice. “Dobby did all the
shopping and most of the cleaning and rearranging. I did have to talk him down from getting the
tie-dyed curtains, though.”

He surprised a laugh from Severus who squeezed him tighter and bent his head to press a kiss
against Harry’s cheek. “Thank you for that. What smells so good?”

“Dinner. Dobby did the shopping, too. I made a blueberry pie, which should be finished in about
fifteen minutes, and the stew will simmer till we want to eat. I was going to add some soda bread
once the pie came out of the oven.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m going to wash the Hogwarts off and unpack.”

“Want some company?” Harry pressed his arse back into Severus’ groin.

He groaned into Harry’s neck and started kissing his way up to bite at his earlobe. “You are always
welcome to join me, beloved. But you are still healing, and I will not hurt you.”

“But—“ Harry spun in his arms, and Severus shut him up with a kiss.

“Hush. I shall take care of you, and if you choose to join me in the shower, I shall take care of
this,” he brushed his hand against Harry’s erection. “But I shall not ever hurt you.”

After a very enthusiastic shower, they ate stew with fresh bread in lounge pants and tee shirts,
before snuggling together in front of the fire. A very relaxed Harry in his arms, and a belly full of
home cooked food gave Severus a feeling that he had never experienced in this house before. He
felt at peace.

“You promised me a story,” Severus murmured into Harry’s hair, after several long moments
staring into the flames.

“Hmm?” Harry tried to sit up, but Severus held him tightly. “Oh, right. Sirius’ escape. Well, it
really begins at the start of the year.”

And so Harry told Severus about Hermione’s need to take all the lessons, and the ministry
accommodation for the same. “But, b-but that should never have been allowed!” Severus
spluttered. “Other students have attempted the same and been refused. Reliving that many hours
would prematurely age a person, and cause serious mental problems. What on earth was Minerva
thinking to allow a thirteen year old child such an item?”

“Relax, love,” Severus felt Harry urging him back into the sofa cushions. “Relax. She didn’t
actually attend all the lessons. Hermione’s fine. As for McGonagall, do you really think she cares
about us?” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, whether she’s under
spells or has lost memories or maybe she’s just too busy doing three jobs, but she’s never given any
thought to her students’ actual well being. Look at her track record. First year, we were sent on that
miserable detention into the forest. Second year she ignored all the bullying I suffered, and when
Ginny was taken into the chamber she said absolutely nothing to any of the other Weasley kids. No
words of comfort, no offers to floo home or speak to their parents, nothing. They were left to
console one another. Third year, again, she did nothing about the dementors or Siri breaking into
the tower at all times— she could have set a ward to keep him out. Come to that, she could have set
a ward to keep students in after curfew, and she’d have effectively stopped a lot of our problems.
Fourth year, again with the bullying. She was my head of house— in loco parentis— and did
nothing to help me out of that tournament or through any of the various events. Instead, she
assisted in the kidnapping and drugging of three students and one underage foreign citizen. Last
year, Hermione and I told her about Umbridge and that damn quill. She told me to keep my head
down and warned the toad about inappropriate punishments. She did nothing that actually stopped
the torture of her charges.”

“What?” He felt utterly confused. Minerva had always seemed so responsible, so formidable. He
had never really liked her, not after his own youth and the consequences of her favoritism, but he
had respected her ability to handle the students. He thought back over the years and realized that it
was true. She was far more administrator than teacher or mentor, and she lacked any sort of
empathy for those she supposedly cared for. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harry. We all failed
you.”

”I’m not hacked off about it,” Harry shrugged. “I just don’t think she ought to be head of house.
She’s not a bad teacher or deputy headmistress. She just cares more about the paperwork than
about the students.”

”Indeed.” Severus held Harry a bit tighter, and brushed a hand through his curls. “Go on with your
story love. If she didn’t use the time turner for lessons, what did she do?”

“Well, once she got her hands on one, the first thing she did, predictably, was go to the library
where she researched the hell out of the things. We learned what the side effects could be, and she
made some difficult choices. You know already that the muggle studies class is a joke— how
batteries work? Most muggles couldn’t tell you, they just use them. The lessons are arbitrary and
completely useless when it comes to fitting in within the muggle world. Divination, she also hated.
She doesn’t have the gift, so no matter what her tea leaves might say, she’d never be able to
understand them. She acknowledges that the subject is worthwhile for those who do have the gift,
though. We both refuse to believe that Trelawny has it. She self-studied a lot of lessons, particularly
in Binns’ classes. Well, we both did that.”

Severus snorted. “So, she had a time turner, and didn’t use it?”

“Oh, no, we used it!” Harry grinned. “We were just far more cautious than Dumbledore or
McGonagall expected. If they thought she’d been hiding in store cupboards and alcoves, quickly
redoing an hour and popping up where no one expected her, they thought wrong. She’s too smart
for that. We’d spend an evening tolerating Weasley, playing chess or falsifying divination
homework or something, and then redo the hours somewhere else, usually the library.”

“How much older are you, than I think you are?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, on average about three or four hours a night, three or four times a week. I suppose that
works out to about fourteen hours a week. Sometimes more on Saturdays, especially if there was
quidditch or a Hogsmeade weekend, because we could slip away easier, so let’s up the average to
sixteen. Four weeks a month, ten months she had the thing, what’s what?”

Severus had been doing mental math as Harry spoke, “six-hundred forty hours.”

“Right,” Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek. “So, divided by twenty-four is twenty-six days, give or
take a few hours?”

“I believe so,” Severus nodded.

“Hmm, so I’m already sixteen.” Harry grinned salaciously up at Severus.

Severus shook his head. “Harry,” he began.

But Harry pressed up on his knees and leaned over Severus, pressing a kiss to his ear. “But I am.
And frankly, even if I wasn’t, I don’t care. I’m yours. I was old enough at eleven to face my
parents’ murderer, at twelve to battle a giant snake, die, and be resurrected, at thirteen to fight off a
horde of dementors, at fourteen, the magical world acknowledged my adulthood ” the sarcasm
dripped from his mouth, “by pitting me against dragons and merpeople and sphinxes and
acromantula in that damn tournament. And now, after a year of teaching my own set of defense
students, suffering a sadistic bitch’s tortures, fighting in a pitched battle with Death Eaters, where I
watched my one parental figure die, I have earned the right to choose my own happiness. The
fucking wizarding world and its expectations do not get to take you from me, Severus. As long as
you want me, I am yours.”

Severus didn’t have a response to that, so instead he pressed his mouth to Harry’s, and held him
tightly against his chest. The kiss was long and thorough and claiming, and yes, Severus thought,
this boy, this brilliant, powerful, unbelievable boy, was his. And he would not be relinquishing him
for anyone’s petty morality.

When they broke apart for air, Severus got them back on track. “So, you had a time turner? Is that
how Black escaped? Did you slip it to him or something?”

“Nothing so easy, Love. Nothing so simple as that.” Harry grinned at him and Severus felt another
wave of foreboding sweep through him. “So, you know that we were all in the shack, and you
came in all vengeance and fury. I’m still sorry about the stunners. I wasn’t expecting all three of us
to hit you,” Harry shook his head, and glanced guiltily up at him.

Severus pecked a kiss to his lips. “In the past, love. I certainly earned your ire over the years.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged. “Still sorry. Anyway, as soon as that happened, Mione went into a
meltdown because we had attacked a teacher. Lupin and Siri explained about the rat and then
forced a change on him. Weasley acted very surprised. I’m not sure if that was genuine or not, but
he played it well. Anyway, Lupin and Sirius were all for killing the rat immediately, because they
are Gryffindors and can’t think ahead more than two steps at a time. I convinced them it would be
better to turn the bastard in, and we all took off back up to the castle. You know what happened
after that, yeah?”

Severus nodded. “I came to just in time to watch Pettigrew transform.”

Harry nodded. “You were magnificent standing there between the wolf and us. I think I changed
my mind about you right in that moment. I knew I couldn’t show it or anything, and it wasn’t even
a crush till this year, but from then, I knew you were trustworthy. I knew there was more to you
than simply flapping dungeon bat.”

Severus smiled and kissed Harry’s forehead. That had not been a good night as far as he was
concerned. He had had to face off against his childhood bullies, three of them, as it turned out, then
come face-to-muzzle with one of his deepest fears, then suffer dementor exposure, and then been
laughed at by Dumbledore and Fudge. He had had worse nights, but not too many of them.
Knowing that Harry had seen his actions in a positive light warmed his insides considerably.

“Well, anyway, there we were in the hospital wing, mostly due to the dementors, but Weasley also
had a broken leg. The headmaster arrived and placated us, telling us there was nothing he could
possibly do to save an innocent man. I think that’s the point I lost the last of my respect for him. He
was the bloody Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW.
He had both national and international power and could do nothing to insure a fair trial for an
innocent man? Hardly.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and Severus began to see more than his own injustices in a new light. He had
always hated Black, still did, although he was tempering it thanks to the boy in his arms, but no one
deserved Azkaban. The dementors were foul. “You’re right. He got me out of there within a month
of my arrest.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “that would’ve given him enough time to realize that the marks hadn’t
disappeared, just faded. He’d have known he’d still need a spy.”

Severus reached out and took one of Harry’s hands, unclenching his fingers and lifting them to his
lips. “Shh, calm, Harry. I’m here, and we’re safe.”

“Right,” Harry smiled up at him, “well, anyway, there’s the headmaster smiling at us and telling us
that there’s nothing he can do. But then he looks straight on at Mione, and tells her what we need is
more time . He then instructs her to go back three turns, and save more than one innocent life.
Weasley’s broken leg was truly a godsend at that point because he’d have been a nightmare to haul
back through time— no good at hiding and far too impulsive. Anyway, we knew we had to let
events play out as they had, but we actually went back a good ten turns.”

“Because of course you did,” Severus shook his head. Dumbledore was playing fast and loose with
the lives of his students. The potential risks were horrific. But he paused there, not the risk to
Dumbledore himself. He could easily play off distraught students taking the law into their own
hands, showing that Granger was too immature to have been trusted with the time turner to begin
with, that Harry was a bit unstable and that the adults who cared for him needed more control over
his life. Actually, from Dumbledore’s point of view, and considering his sociopathic tendencies, it
made perfect sense to recommend that two thirteen year olds travel in time, confront a dangerous
creature, and then rescue a convicted murderer. Well, not convicted, as it turned out, but still
reckless and dangerous himself.

“Well, yeah. It’s freeing, you know? No one knows where you are or what you might do. We set a
few things up. Sirius had offered me the opportunity to live with him. I knew that was a pipe dream
as soon as Pettigrew escaped, so we needed to create a few different contingency plans. Mione met
with a friend of hers in the muggle world who can create false identities. We set up several, um,
what?”

Severus was struggling to sit upright in his shock. “Ms. Granger has a friend who can what?”

“Oh, yeah, well, she spends ten months a year in the magical world, but that doesn’t mean she
dropped everyone she knew before she discovered she was a witch. She has a friend a couple years
older than her, who makes fairly realistic muggle fake IDs. Once she adds magic to them, they’re
all but undetectable, at least by muggle means, and that was what we needed. You’re looking at
Bertrand Lyle and Geoffrey Smythe, depending on whether I need to go posh or not.”

The smirk on Harry’s face was irresistible, and Severus pressed a laughing kiss to his lips. “While
she was doing that, I snuck off to Gringotts. Dumbledore has done his level best to control how
much access I have to my money, but I can get around him if I really need to. I picked up enough in
muggle money to leave Sirius with a start and stash some around my relatives’ house so I could eat
that summer. Good thing, too, since Dudley was on a diet, and we all had to suffer.”

Harry shuddered at the memories, and Severus pulled him closer. “I should’ve seen it before. I’m
sorry love.”

“No more, Sev,” Harry turned to him with a frown. “You didn’t see it because I didn’t show you.
You need to get over this idea that you are somehow omniscient. Trust me, I am capable of pulling
the wool over just about anybody’s eyes. I had to learn how in order to survive the damn Dursleys.
It’s not your fault that I didn’t trust you enough to be myself around you.”

Severus just kissed him, and settled back. He was the adult. He should have seen the signs of
abuse, which, looking backward, were all too clear. He also should not have bullied an eleven year
old so thoroughly that the child believed he had no one to turn to. He sighed. That was the past, and
he would do better from this point on. No other child would be so overlooked.

Harry continued, “I didn’t think escaping on the back of a stolen hippogriff was all that sound a
plan, so I also got him a broomstick, a bunch of maps, a compass, and some fresh clothing. He was
still running around in his Azkaban stripes, the idiot. Anyway, I met back up with Mia, and we
arranged for a reservation at a muggle hotel in Ireland and a rather circumspect mind-healer, and
then we hurried our butts back to Hogsmeade. We got there in time to get Buckbeak off the
chopping block. I snuck off to see who cast that patronus, only for it to have been me all along, and
then we did fly up to the tower to get Siri off to safety. Buckbeak has been living happily in the
forbidden forest. Sirius only told people he was keeping him in his mother’s bedroom to keep the
Order out of there. It was our safe room for planning— no portraits, no spells, we turned it into a
war room of sorts.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, finally coming to the end of his story. “We had to book it through
the castle to get back to Dumbledore in time. I think that was the best part— that condescending
bastard had a look of such approval on his face and he has no idea that we were gallivanting all
over the U.K. in and out of the muggle world, and didn’t follow his little plan at all.” He glanced at
Severus with a look of false sympathy. “I am sorry about your Order of Merlin though.”

“Brat.” Severus pulled him closer and began tickling him. Harry shrieked with laughter and fought
back until they had both tumbled to the ground and started snogging instead.
 15 July 1996

Severus woke with a jolt in the early hours of the morning. Harry was thrashing about and
screaming, clearly in the middle of a nightmare. He felt dread creeping up the back of his throat at
what this might mean, as he wrapped his arms around Harry and tried to minimize the bruises and
scratches his love was inflicting on both of them.

“Harry,” He spoke forcefully, but quietly and calmly. “Harry, you must wake now. You must wake
up.” Nothing happened, and Harry began to moan and shake in his arms. He spoke again, “Harry,
open your eyes, Darling. It’s time for you to wake. Please wake up.”

In addition to being scared of what might be happening with Harry, Severus was wondering what
the Dark Lord was up to, and who was being tortured. “Merlin,” he muttered, before trying again
and finally Harry gasped awake, his eyes wild and his skin clammy. “You’re okay, beloved. You
are in my bed at Spinner’s End, and I will never let harm come to you again. You are safe.”

Harry was twisting in his arms and fighting him, but Severus kept himself wrapped around Harry,
not wanting him to fly off the edge of the bed. “Shh, you’re safe. You’re safe,” he did his best to
gentle his voice, and eventually Harry slumped into his body, the fight leaving him.

“Sev,” came the whisper from Harry’s raw throat. Severus conjured a glass of water and handed it
over.

“Can you tell me about it?” Severus knew Harry wouldn’t want to, but he also knew that talking
was the best way to move beyond the night terrors.

“Wasn’t a dream,” Harry rasped out. The water was helping, but not enough. Severus considered a
throat soother, but they were usually reserved for serious injury. “A vision. He was torturing
Yaxley. Something’s gone wrong with his plans for the ministry. He’s planning to take out some of
the key people standing in the way, since Yaxley can’t work around them. He was pissed about
that— Yaxley was supposed to use charm and politics, I guess, and now they have to use murder.”

“You felt the tortures?” The news from the ministry disturbed him, but the idea that Harry had
been held under the Dark Lord’s torture curses bothered him far more. Harry just leaned into his
body more, seeking comfort, but not answering. “Well, come with me, then.” He shuffled them
both up and out of bed. A quick tempus showed him it was nearly four in the morning. A bit earlier
than his usual wake up time, but he could adjust. He got them both wrapped in dressing gowns and
slippers, and herded Harry down the stairs into the kitchen. He sat him down at the table and
pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to the stove.

“Sev, really, I don’t think I could eat. Not after that.”

“Trust me,” Severus smiled over his shoulder, and lit the hob under a pan of milk. He reached into
the cabinet for the tin of cocoa he’d found when snooping around the kitchen yesterday and tipped
some in, stirring it up. Once it had warmed, he placed two mugs on the kitchen table, and urged
Harry to try it.

“Needs cinnamon,” Harry mumbled, but he also smiled up at Severus, and after the morning they’d
just had, Severus considered it a win.

“Who’s the potions master around here?” He teased back, smiling softly as Harry rolled his eyes.

“Sev.” Harry sat upright and grabbed his hand from where it rested on the tabletop. “Can you get a
message to Amelia Bones? Can you tell her she needs to get out as soon as possible? Will she trust
you?”

“I can send the message, but I do not know whether she will trust me.” Severus shook his head.
“Dumbledore has declared his trust in me before the Wizengamot, but with the Dark Lord active
again, many have begun to doubt.”

Harry nodded. “Can I do it? How do you do that talking patronus thing? Do you think she would
trust me?”

“That is probably a better idea. The talking patronus thing incorporates the sender’s voice and
magic, and if she does get caught, her mind will be ripped apart. He may discover that I was the
one to warn her,” Severus trailed away, wondering if Harry would consider him a coward for this
need to keep his cover intact.

“Of course,” Harry nodded, “that makes sense. I hope it doesn’t happen to her, though. She was the
only one who seemed to listen to me, and Susan doesn’t deserve to lose any more of her family.”

Severus’s insides warmed. Harry did understand. “To cast the patronus guardian, you use the
incantation expecto patronus , which means, roughly, I expect a guardian or defender. It’s
emotionally driven— you know this, you must concentrate with all you are upon a positive
emotion. To cast the messenger, the spell changes dramatically. You must concentrate, exclusively
and intensely, upon the person you wish to receive the message, no other person can be in your
thoughts at the time. It is easier if you have positive memories of the person upon which to
concentrate.” He saw he still held Harry’s attention, and continued. “The incantation is also
different: expecto nuntius , which roughly translates to I expect a messenger. The patronus will
appear, and you should speak to it, directly, as though to the person you wish to message. The
wand movements throughout are the same, but once the message is complete, you must add a
flick.”

Harry took a deep breath, and nodded. “Expecto nuntius?”

Severus nodded at the correct pronunciation, “You should test it first. I shall go into the sitting
room. See if you can send me a message.”

Harry smiled and nodded, and Severus stood from the table. He brushed a kiss on the top of
Harry’s head before he stepped into the small sitting room, lit the fire laid ready in the hearth, and
settled to wait on the sofa.

It must have taken him a few attempts because about fifteen minutes passed in waiting, but
eventually a large stag appeared next to him, and said, in Harry’s voice, “your cocoa is getting
cold.”

He chuckled, and cast his own patronus. The doe appearing before him to wait for the message,
“Then cast a warming charm on it and come join me.”

Harry appeared with two mugs in his hands and a wide grin on his face. As he set the cups on the
coffee table, he couldn’t stop the questions, “This is brilliant, Sev! How far apart can the people
be? And, how quickly do the messages arrive? Can I send one to Hermione, too? Are they okay in
muggle areas? Can muggles see patroni? I know they can’t see dementors, but is it similar?”

Severus smiled and tugged Harry down next to him on the sofa, wrapping his arms around his
middle. “How did I ever believe you were lazy and ignorant? You’re amazing.” He closed his eyes
in self-recrimination and kissed the back of Harry’s neck in apology.
“Hey, hey,” Harry half turned in his arms, and put a hand on his cheek. “Stop that, Severus. You
didn’t see the real me because I didn’t show you. There is no blame to be placed. I had to hide, or
Dumbledore would’ve gotten worse. You had to act cruel, or He-Who-Hisses would’ve been
suspicious. We see each other now, and that’s what counts.” Harry pecked a kiss to his lips and
then turned and settled back into his arms. Severus smiled faintly and squeezed Harry slightly in
gratitude.

“So, hang on a minute. I don’t have a lot of positive memories of Madam Bones. It might take a
while.” Severus didn’t reply, but sat patiently waiting for Harry’s patronus to emerge once more. It
did take several attempts, but eventually, Harry’s expecto nuntius produced the required patronus.
“Good morning, Madam Bones. This is Harry Potter, and I’ve got a warning for you. I hope you
believe me and take precautions. I learned early this morning that the death eaters, including He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, want you dead, and mean to accomplish your murder as soon as
possible. They may already be on their way, I do not know. Please, please take Susan and get
yourselves somewhere safe. Somewhere behind wards and secrecy spells, or something. You’ve
been causing them trouble at the ministry, and couldn’t be charmed or talked round. I think that’s
admirable, but you’ve got a target on you now. Please, you’ve got to run now. Please stay safe. The
wizarding world needs you.” He ended the message with a flick and the stag disappeared.

As he watched the glow of the patronus fade, he felt Harry curl tighter into him, and Severus ran a
hand through the boy’s hair. “Shh, you did what you could,” he soothed. “Now, it’s up to them to
believe you. Was Susan part of your defense group?” Harry nodded. “Then, considering what I
know of Amelia Bones, what Susan knows of you, and how she behaved at your trial last summer,
I think she will believe you. The tone of your message was good. It was serious but earnest at the
same time. We can only hope they run in time.”

Harry leaned forward and reached for the cocoa, passing his mug to him. They sat for nearly an
hour in the pre-dawn peace of the sitting room, sipping rewarmed cocoa and watching the fire burn
down to embers.

When it was nearing six in the morning, a silvery beaver dropped into the middle of the sitting
room just as Severus was thinking about starting a breakfast for the two of them. Harry jolted
upright at the first sight, and he seemed to be holding his breath waiting for the animal to speak.

“Harry Potter, your message arrived only five minutes before the death eaters, and those five
minutes saved our lives. I was able to wake Susan, and we fled as soon as the wards came down.
We are both in your debt. I don’t know how you came by the knowledge of the raid. Susan has
some wild stories, but whatever the truth, know that we are grateful beyond measure to be safe and
together. I shall not reveal our whereabouts, but we have taken your advice and found refuge
behind strong magical protections. I hope you also are safe, Mr. Potter, and I want you to know
that you have the support of what remains of the Bones family.”

Severus saw the slump of relief in Harry’s shoulders, and pulled him close again. “Good news?”
He asked.

“Couldn’t you?” Harry’s nose scrunched up adorably.

Severus leaned closer and kissed it, “No, only the intended recipient can hear or see the message. I
expected that she would reply, so I was simply waiting for you to react to the messenger. Now, are
they safe?”

“Yes, safe and together was what she said” Harry nodded, “thanks to you.”

“I think you mean thanks to you,” Severus corrected.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, if it was up to me, I’d have woken from that vision and either dithered
away, or tried to run off and save them myself. You showed me how to send the message.”

Severus looked in amazement at the boy he had so often accused of arrogance. He shook his head,
not agreeing but not wanting to argue about it. “How about breakfast? Would you like an omelette?
I think your elf brought eggs.”

He was rewarded with a smile and they moved into the kitchen together to begin the day. They
spent most of the morning playing around with patronus messengers, trying to give Harry ample
practice and shorten his casting time. As they went on, the messages became more and more
risqué, until lunch ended up being a tray of charcuterie served naked in bed. Severus couldn’t find
it in himself to mind the crumbs.

In the afternoon, Hedwig arrived carrying a letter and a small parcel from Hermione. Harry smiled
at his first ever friend, and allowed her to perch on his shoulder while he opened the note. Severus
smiled at the sight of the owl steadily grooming Harry’s hair into an even bigger mess than ever.
“Is all well with Ms. Granger?”

Harry nodded, distractedly. “She says she’s been invited to the burrow, but has decided to visit
Bulgaria instead. Viktor kindly invited her whole family to stay with his own, and see more of the
magical world. According to her, he doesn’t mind that they’re muggles. Apparently, in several
Eastern European countries, the parents of muggleborns are classified as the “initiated,” and have a
place within magical society if they choose to claim it. Some don’t because of fear or hatred, and
those are obliviated of their children—Merlin that’s harsh, but at least the kids are safe, she says
they get adopted or fostered, often by the Initiated, who can understand them a bit better than the
pure bloods. Anyway, they’re off to have a holiday and experience a bit more of the magical world.
She says she’ll bring home some books.” Severus snorted. That was a given. Harry smirked, but
kept reading his letter. “Hmph, apparently, she’ll probably have to join the Weasleys for the usual
back-to-school shopping chaos, but she says she’s not giving up her family for the magical world,
the way Dumbledore seems to want her to. I guess Ron’s been more annoying than usual, and Mrs.
Weasley seems to believe that Hermione will be marrying him. Urgh. That’d last like two seconds
before she murdered him. She’d get away with it, too. Anyway, she goes on at length over whether
Viktor will be a suitable match— I think they’re both ambivalent about it, fond of one another, yes,
but no great passion. She’s got a list of books she’s recommending I read, no surprise there. So,
yeah, all in all, she seems the same as usual.” Harry folded the parchment up and smiled over at
Severus. He opened the accompanying package and a note fell out. Severus picked it up.

Harry, I’m not sure I’ll be seeing you for your birthday, so consider this an early present. -Mia

In the folds of the package, Harry revealed three new books, a text on ancient Nordic runic magic,
a book on healing magic from a well-respected Canadian witch, and a muggle fantasy novel about
dragons. It looked quite thick, and seemed to be the first in a series of novels by the same author.

“These are great!” Harry enthused, picking up the healing book, and propping it open on the coffee
table.

“You’re interested in healing?” Severus raised an eyebrow, inwardly cursing because he had
forgotten that Harry’s birthday would be swiftly approaching. He would need to select a gift that
showed his true feelings, and he was not a man who could do so comfortably.

“Sort of?” Harry’s nose scrunched into what Severus considered his thinking face. It was one of
few honest open emotions Harry allowed to show on his face, and Severus refused to admit, even
to himself, that he found it adorable. “It’s more like the potential crossover between healing and the
muggle sciences. I know that most muggle treatments don’t work on magical people, but the
muggles have discovered so much more about the human body than we have, there’s got to be a
way that some of it crosses over. Like DNA, right? I mean, if we could tailor potions specifically
to a single person’s DNA or use their white blood cells to deliver a targeted potion to specific body
parts,” Harry’s eyes brightened with the scientific potentials, and Severus had to admit that he
didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Harry, I know enough about muggle science to know you are well beyond your age group.” He
watched as Harry began to shrink in on himself, but then shrug and seem to brazen out the
observation. “How did you advance so quickly?”

”Oh!” Harry shrugged as though the question was not what he had been expecting. “Well, really, I
guess it started in primary school. I knew that the Dursleys wouldn’t put up with me a moment
longer than they had to, so if I wanted a university education, I’d need to be able to support myself.
I spent a lot of time in the library. Dudley would never have put foot in it if he wasn’t made to by
the teachers, so it was safe. A librarian started noticing me, and at first I thought I was in trouble,
but instead he just helped me find the more advanced text books and practice exams. Then, the
magical world beat down my door— literally— and I had all these new things to learn. It was a bit
overwhelming. But then, Mione had that time turner, so we used it to work on both magical and
muggle studies.”

Severus found his scrunched up nose adorable, and leaned forward to kiss it. “So, your goal is to
merge the two?”

”Not exactly. Not if you mean let the muggles know about magic. That’d be a disaster. Mia’s
parents are wonderful, but there are far too many versions of the Dursleys out there. What I was
thinking was a way that we who know about both worlds, could use the information in both worlds
to improve ourselves. I mean, I don’t think the magically raised could cross over into muggle
science very well, at least not without a complete overhaul of the muggle education they receive —
Arthur Weasley is a prime example, but can you imagine Draco trying to drive a car? Or Luna
trying to work a vending machine? But the muggle-raised, and some half-bloods who are already
used to living in both worlds. There’s no reason to ignore information just because Muggles
learned it first, and we’d have so many more opportunities to make things better.”

Severus nodded, smiling. “If there’s anybody who could discover such a crossover, it would be
you, beloved. Your mind works in startling, wonderful ways.” He watched as the blush rose in
Harry’s cheeks. His teenage lover didn’t have much experience with compliments, but Severus
meant to change that where he could. He refused to be in any way insincere with Harry, but he
could freely and frequently offer honest and well-earned praise where it was due.

“Maybe. Either way, I enjoy the learning, and I think the magical world needs to be dragged out of
the Middle Ages. Not into the muggle world, but at least not stagnating in prejudice and
complacency any longer. And before you say anything, yes, I know there have been a number of
advancements in healing potions over recent years, but not as many as there should have been, and
that’s only one magical discipline.”

“You think there are other disciplines that could be used effectively in healing?” Severus tried to
keep the skepticism from his voice, but there had been few advancements of any kind in the area of
healing, and he was rather proud that all of them had included potions.

“I think nobody has tried. Nobody has considered that charms or transfiguration might be useful for
anything other than reversing accidents, and runes can accomplish so much if used the right way.”
Harry smiled, clearly enjoying the debate.

Severus snorted ruefully. And why shouldn’t he be? He was winning the argument. “Point. And
there again, my point stands as well. You have a creative and energetic mind.” He smiled at Harry,
loving the color rising in his cheeks but hating the way his eyes immediately sought the floor. He
had pity on Harry, though, and broke the awkwardness before it could get too firmly lodged
between them, “so explain what you meant about runes? They are an ancient discipline for a
reason. Most modern scholars of runes do little more than interpret and translate what our ancestors
inscribed, occasionally highlighting a new use for a spell or charm, but not much more than that.”

“Well, yeah,” Harry folded his legs up under himself, turning toward Severus, and Severus got to
watch the glow of happiness returning to his eyes as he launched into potential uses for runes in
enchanting, transfiguration, and more.

They spent the rest of the afternoon delighting in the debate of magical theory and the practical
uses of various magical branches.

Until Severus’ mark burned.

 16 July 1996

Severus staggered home in the early hours, internally cursing all the deities he could think of and
ignoring the whinging and simpering of the rat behind him. He had had no opportunity to warn
Harry about what was to come, and could only hope that he was already in their bedroom, asleep.
Anywhere else in the house, and Severus would be unable to protect him and keep his cover. He
glanced quickly back at the rodent masquerading as human, and knew that if it did come to that
point, he would need to act quickly to stun and obliviate the man.

He swung the front door open with more force than necessary and stomped into the front hall, only
to pause a moment. He removed his outer cloak and boots, his mask already long since taken off
and stuffed into an inner pocket. With a glare at his guest, he conveyed the importance of removing
his shoes, rejoicing at the squeak of panic and the hurried fumbling that resulted.

Using the time that Pettigrew was sat on the floor un-knotting one of his bootlaces to glance
through the first level of his home, he was shocked to see it reverted back to its unwelcoming and
abandoned state. The moth-eaten and cigarette singed old velvet armchairs had been returned to
their place in the sitting room, along with the spindly, bourbon-stained side table. It looked as
though Harry had even replaced the dust. The kitchen had been transformed back into the sparse
unfriendly space it used to be, although fortunately the food remained. Even the walls had been
made to look smudged and grease-stained.

Severus sent a look of pure loathing at Pettigrew as he led him past the living and kitchen area, and
up the stairs to the bedrooms. “Your accommodation,” he gestured imperiously at the space, which
he noticed no longer held his teenage collection of vinyl or leftover clothing, but did feature a bare
mattress slung haphazardly on a broken and wobbly metal frame, a cheap piece of muggle plywood
over cinderblocks as a desk with a weak and flickering lamp, and a pile of cardboard boxes in one
corner. He leveled a sneer at the rat, and intoned, imperiously as though granting the man access to
the treasures of Versailles, “I’ll thank you not to disturb my belongings. The bath is across the hall
from here,” he gestured mildly at the room. “You will not leave a mess.”

With that, he stomped down the hall to his own bedroom, spent several long minutes creating new
wards and spells to prevent any possible discovery by the man or his animagus form. He felt
Harry’s magic welcoming and meshing seamlessly with his own, and knew the protections would
hold.

He stepped quickly through the door, snapping it shut behind him, and taking a deep breath. The
room was silenced completely both without and within, the double layering ensuring that no sound
would escape and that they would not be bothered by anything outside.

The room had been expanded, he noticed with a shock. It was at least twice, perhaps three times
the size it had been when he left it yesterday morning, and in one corner, a fireplace snapped and
crackled a warm welcome, the comfortable sofa and coffee table had been set up in a conversation
area, a screen protected an en-suite bathroom he was sure he had never had before, and best of all,
Harry was sitting in the middle of a giant bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets, naked, and
looking utterly edible.

“How bad?” Harry had been sleeping, but jumped out of bed and hurried over to him, patting him
down and looking deeply in his eyes. “I only saw the tail end of it, but I know he cursed you. Come
sit and rest.” Severus was led to the sofa and made to sit, as Harry pulled on a dressing gown and
rustled through his trunk for a pain potion and nerve tonic.
“Did you do all this?” Severus swallowed down the potions, and pulled Harry into his arms. The
potions were lovely, but nothing was better than the soft comfort of holding Harry close.

“Well, the elves did,” Harry shrugged. “When I knew he was making you take in the traitor, I
realized we had to do something.”

“My clever love.” Severus pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Wait, elves? More than one?”

Harry looked sheepish, “Oh, um, well yeah. I mean, Dobby and I are bonded as both elf and wizard
but also as friends, you know? So, he was happy to help out, and I knew that Winky, um, that’s the
Crouches’ former elf? She was having troubles since her bond broke, depression made worse by
alcoholism. But Dobby thought having a family again would help her. So, when I realized that we
needed to completely redecorate the house again, and make this room into somewhere I wouldn’t
go crazy in, Dobby suggested that I bond to Winky, both to help her out but also because he
couldn’t get everything done all at once. She did the space charms and redecorating up here, while
Dobby got the downstairs and your old room looking suitable for Pettigrew, since he knew what
they looked like before.” Harry finally ran out of words and glanced nervously up at him. “Are you
mad?”

“Mad?” Severus shook his head and pressed a kiss to Harry’s brow. “Love, I am so proud of all
three of you. Thank you for your quick thinking and hard work. Dobby, Winky, thank you as well.
You’ve done admirable service.”

They heard a small, embarrassed giggle, and a tea service popped into being on the coffee table
complete with small cakes. Harry smiled and leaned forward to prepare two cups of tea. “So, I was
thinking,” Harry began, fidgeting with his tea cup and the saucer unnecessarily. “Honeycutt is
going to be in contact sooner rather than later, and then I’ll have to go. You might be able to slip
away, if you tell the rat that Dumbledore has called you, and you tell the old man that the rat is
watching you too closely to contact.” He glanced up at Severus, and he nodded his understanding.
“So, when we go, I want to take the elves with us. But when you come back, I want you to take
Dobby with you to watch your back.”

Severus went to protest, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. He didn’t need an elf, that was certain,
having lived the majority of his life without one, and of the two he knew that Winky and he would
get along better. Dobby was, to put it mildly, eccentric.

“Hear me out, before you argue, please,” he mentally threw his arms up. Harry’s eyes could turn
him inside out. He nodded. “Winky’s bond to me is new, and needs the time to solidify. She’s also
very accustomed to taking care of a family, being the primary caregiver for Barty Jr. when he was
under the imperius. I was hoping to ask her for help with the baby when it comes. Dobby is an
unusual elf, but absolutely trustworthy. We’re keeping too many secrets to hold onto by ourselves.
There are too many potential disasters that could blow the whole thing up. Just look at tonight. If I
hadn’t seen part of that meeting, I’d have been waiting up for you in the sitting room. You and
Dobby can work out a set of signals or clues or something— you’ll need to be clear on what should
be done and how, because he tends to get creative, but because of that creativity, he can adapt
remarkably well. Please? Just think about it. Even if just for my peace of mind, when I’m going to
be so far away? I’ll feel better knowing you’ve got him in your corner.”

Harry really could get him to do anything. He kissed him again, and nodded. “Alright. I shall
consider it.” He threaded one hand through Harry’s hair and slipped the other inside his dressing
gown. “Now, this is a lovely welcome home.” He murmured into Harry’s ear before pressing a
kiss there.

Harry pulled back and smiled at him. “We’re not done yet.” He stood up, and pulled Severus onto
his feet, working on the buttons, as he walked backward toward the screened off area. Once he got
the shirt and trousers undone and Severus had pulled off the last of his clothing, Harry shrugged
out of the robe he was wearing, and pushed Severus through the opening and into the new bath
area. The newly tiled floor in that area was dominated by a large claw-foot tub that would easily fit
Severus twice over. It was filled with steaming water, and Severus smelled the lavender and
rosemary of a muscle relaxer mixed in. Along the wall were three doors, and he turned to Harry
with a raised eyebrow.

“Shower stall, toilet, and wardrobe,” Harry answered the unasked question. There were two sinks,
side by side in front of a large mirror and Severus smiled. They would hardly need both, but it
would serve as a nice reminder that he was not alone in the world, once Harry had gone. “Come on,
into the tub, Sev. And after that, you’re taking at least a four-hour nap. You’ve had no sleep at all,
and you’ve been tortured. Let me take care of you.”

Severus eased into the hot water, and watched as Harry folded up a towel and set it on the floor to
protect his knees. He knelt next to the tub, and began to both massage and wash his tired shoulders,
neck, and chest. He let out a moan of appreciation and felt kisses along the side of his face. His
muscles, worn and painful from tensing under the torture curses, slowly relaxed under Harry’s
fingers, and he finally began to feel human again. Harry’s caresses soon turned from therapeutic to
teasing, and his body reacted predictably. He bent his head around to capture Harry’s lips with his
own, and felt the passion rising.

“Mmm,” Harry nibbled on his lips and ran a hand along his spine, “Not yet, lover.” He groaned a
protest into Harry’s mouth, as he felt the younger man withdraw. Instead, Harry tilted his head
back and slowly and lovingly washed out his hair, combing his fingers through the fine locks
before rinsing the shampoo out with fresh hot water and adding some sort of treatment that smelled
lovely, part jasmine and part warm spices. He felt Harry’s fingers running over and over his scalp,
before he was urged backward again for another rinse. Severus had never felt so relaxed, so
content, so loved, but at the same time, something important was missing.

“Come here. I need to hold you,” He pulled Harry into the tub, so he was resting against his chest
and finally, finally felt complete. His libido had calmed somewhat, content to wait until his heart
felt satisfied. For now, his family was safe in his arms, and this room, where no one on earth could
enter without his permission. He ran a hand down Harry’s chest, tweaking casually at one of his
nipples, before rubbing over his belly. His mind filled with thoughts of his child, growing and
developing there, right under his hand, protected and loved by both of them. “What would you like,
love, a boy or a girl?”

Harry sighed happily and wriggled his hips enough to cause a reaction, “Eventually, both. I don’t
care if it’s a boy or a girl right now, but I want lots. I know we shouldn’t even have had this one,
and it’s a miracle, but I’m selfish, and I want more. I’ve never had a family, and well, I like the
idea of living surrounded by love, even if it is just a dream.”

“Lots? Like the Wea—” Severus’ teasing was cut off by a kiss.

When he lifted his mouth, Harry had a gleam in his eye. “Watch your mouth, Sev. I like the twins,
and I don’t really know the older boys enough to have an opinion about them, but Percy, Ronald
and Ginny are not my idea of a family. But anyway, no, not as many as that. But maybe four?
Three or four would be nice, I think.”

“Three or four would be perfect.” Severus agreed even as he thanked Merlin for the two house
elves they now had. He would never manage to keep up with three or four small children without
their assistance.
They stopped talking as Severus’ hands wandered and Harry’s hips grew restless. The only sounds
in the room becoming their gasps and splash of water over the sides of the tub.

Exhausted, warm and dry and happy, Severus slipped into bed next to an equally sated Harry, who
held him close as he slipped off to sleep.

When he woke, they had Dobby bring up a tray of finger foods, and spent the day lazing around,
feeding each other sliced fruit or pastries with cheese. He did emerge, once, in the afternoon, in
order to tell off Pettigrew, who had been snooping around his potion lab, but otherwise, they both
ignored the rat, choosing instead to focus entirely on one another.
 17 July 1996
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

He woke up the next morning to the pecking of an owl at the window. Harry was sitting up in the
bed next to him, his book of Nordic runes open and propped against his knees. He watched, his
eyes soft and full of emotion, as Harry set the book aside and slipped from the covers and over to
the window. The owl was not one he recognized.

“Don’t touch it, Harry.” He spoke sharply and Harry glanced over. “Do you know this owl?” Harry
shook his head, and Severus nodded. “Let me do this first.” He cast a few diagnostic spells on the
regal, and rather affronted looking bird, while Harry fished out a treat from his trunk. “Okay, it’s
clear, but it’s always better to check when you don’t know the bird.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled at him, and he felt something settle happily in his heart. Harry was pulling
open the letter when Hedwig arrived with another letter, hooting angrily at an intruder delivering
mail to her human. Harry chuckled and set the official letter aside, fishing out another treat. “Sorry,
Hedwig. I can’t help it if other people send me messages. You know you’re my best girl.” The bird
was clicking her beak in stern disapproval at the idea of other owls in her territory. Harry was
clearly her territory. Severus chuckled lightly at the thought that they both had rather
temperamental owls. He ran a hand through Harry’s hair as the younger man glanced at the letter.
“Sev? Do you know this writing?”

Severus stepped closer and took the letter from Hedwig, glancing at the address. “Yes, it’s Julius’
writing. He must have solved whatever issues were going on with his sister.” Harry smiled up at
him, and leaned closer. “Open your other letter. I’ll read this one?” He felt Harry nod and reach for
the gold-and-black-edged envelope.

Honeycutt had written about the cottage he had arranged for them. He provided a quick rundown
of the wards and spells on the property, and then described the location and building. They were
headed to a fully equipped magical house, on a private bit of beachfront land, with a sitting room,
bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. There was also a basement potions lab, which he intended to
investigate thoroughly. The house was set back from the water only about three hundred meters,
and a sandy beach was hidden from the muggles by a reef on one side and a cliff on the other. The
land surrounding the property was predominantly jungle, and Honeycutt had sarcastically
welcomed Severus to forage to his hearts’ content as long as he left at least one leaf on each tree. It
sounded perfect for what they needed. It was connected to the rest of the world by either a one-lane
bumpy trail road with a four-by-four muggle vehicle, or by the use of a hybrid magic-muggle
sailboat, complete with motorized sails and steering, kept docked off a small pier to one side of the
house. It had been dry docked for a year or more, but Julius wrote that his sister had readied it for
them.

He had just finished reading the letter, in which Honeycutt included the password and arrival
details for an enclosed portkey to his sister’s home, when Harry dropped the mysterious, official
letter, and took a shuddering breath. Severus lowered his envelope and glanced at Harry. “What is
it, love?”

“Siri’s will,” Harry choked out. “This is from his law wizard’s office. They’re having the reading
in two days’ time. I—I, I’m named in the will, but I have to be there to officially inherit whatever it
was. How can I be, though? Dumbledore will learn of this, and then,” Severus took Harry into his
arms, and let him cry.
They would solve this. Somehow, he would get Harry out of the house, despite Pettigrew’s
snooping presence, and hidden from even Dumbledore at the reading.

When Harry’s tears dried up, Severus put a finger under his chin and lifted his face. He pressed a
quick kiss to his lips and then made him a promise. “I will arrange it with the law wizards. You
will be there to receive what your godfather left you, and Dumbledore will not get his hands on
you.” Harry’s expression was so conflicted. He obviously wanted to trust, but had been betrayed
too many times to believe him. Severus smiled. “I shall need to take your letter, and one you write
yourself, if you will, authorizing me to speak to them, on your behalf. If you explain your fears and
your lack of trust in Dumbledore, that would also be helpful. Add your thumbprint, in blood, at the
bottom next to your signature. The magic in your blood will show that the letter was not written
under duress of any kind.”

Harry immediately sat and wrote out the necessary explanation. He had added a thorough
explanation of his circumstances and that his godfather likewise did not trust Dumbledore, along
with his hopes that the law wizards would accept Severus Snape, his partner, to speak on his
behalf. Severus smiled at the few words he glimpsed. They ignited something deep inside him, a
longing for something more, a more permanent connection. Only remembering the urgency of his
errand and the hurdles yet to be leaped prevented him from speaking right that moment.

He took both letters, slipping them into an inside pocket, and kissed Harry. “Be good. I’ll be home
as soon as I can be. Until then, stay safe and hidden. If you need to escape, use Honeycutt’s
portkey, and I’ll follow you as soon as I possibly can.”

“We’ll be here.”

Severus slipped out of the room he now considered his home, and back into the dingy gloom of his
childhood hell. Pettigrew was poking around in his bookshelves, looking sullen and furtive. He
knew that the rat had been snooping, as several things had been disturbed from their usual places.
Luckily for the traitor, the locks to both his and Harry’s room and the potion lab, the two spaces
Severus considered sacred, had held tight against him. Had Severus found him snooping there, he
would have cursed him unrecognizable.

“I’m leaving for a while.” Severus looked haughtily at the sniveling mess of a man. “You will
respect my privacy and my belongings. You might consider making yourself useful in the kitchen
while I’m away.”

Pettigrew had not heard his approach, and whirled at the sound of his voice, “Wh-where are you g-
g-going?”

“Out. Obviously.” Severus rolled his eyes. “We shall need more food. I was not prepared for a
guest.”

He strode out of the house without looking back at the other man, intent on his goal of the
Wizarding Law Offices of Gamp, Newscomb, and Shafiq. Shafiq, one of the senior partners in the
firm, had sent the notification to Harry, so that is who he intended on visiting. The man’s assistant,
a well-made-up woman of middle age, raised her eyebrows at him as he stepped into the plush
offices on a well-to-do side street of Diagon Alley.

“My name is Severus Snape. I need to speak with Mr. Shafiq regarding the reading of Sirius
Black’s will.” He kept his voice low, but firm. “I hope he has time, it’s rather urgent. I’m here on
behalf of one of the beneficiaries.”

“I see.” Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she stood and indicated a chair for him, before
turning and clicking her way down a side corridor. Severus refused to display his nerves, and so
sat, crossing his legs at the knee and mentally recited the ingredients for the wit sharpening potion,
in reverse alphabetic order. By the time he had reached a mental review of the turns involved in the
Draught of Living Death, she was back. “He has a few moments to see you now. Follow me.”

He stood and nodded, following her through hallways lined with cherrywood paneling and large
glass windows into conference rooms. It appeared that Gamp, Newscomb, and Shafiq had modeled
their offices on some of the more well-heeled law offices in the muggle world. Severus wondered
if they had always handled the Black family’s legal matters or if Sirius had engaged them as a final
rebellious gesture to his blood-purity obsessed parents.

He was shown into a large office. The man seated behind the desk had cleared the entire surface of
any stray paperwork and appeared at his ease. He stood at Severus’ arrival and shook his hand,
indicating the seat in front of the desk with a casual, “Please.”

Severus nodded his greeting, and sat. “Thank you for seeing me, especially on such short notice.”

The man before him wore his robes well, somber colors of grey and black, with a splash of teal in
the edging. The wool and silk seemed to hide quite the physique as well. Severus was tempted to
write him off as a puffed up pure blood with more money than sense. But the man had an
intelligent gleam in his dark eyes, and a small smirk just waiting to appear on his thin lips. He was
not young, but not old either, with just a few scattered silver hairs in his otherwise dark mane.

“Well, something must have been urgent. The notices only went out this morning, and here you
are.”

Severus nodded, at least the man could manage deductive reasoning. “Indeed. The person I
represent has entrusted me with the notification he received this morning,” Severus produced the
letter Harry had been sent. “Along with this letter explaining his situation and why he could not
come himself.” He pushed both pieces of paper over the desk.

The man’s eyes widened at the name on the envelope, lifting to meet Severus’ own dark gaze for a
moment, before dropping down to inspect the letter from Harry.

“Mr. Snape, I believe I can help you. It is, indeed, the law that only those present at the official
reading of the will shall receive an inheritance. However, as the young man you represent is the
sole beneficiary of the will in question, I see no conflict in moving the official reading of that will
to a day and time that suits him. Others are mentioned in the will, and some shall be receiving
letters from the deceased Lord Black, and they will, naturally be present at the scheduled reading
of the will.” A sly smile crossed the lawyer’s face at the words official and scheduled to describe
the readings.

A matching smile spread across his own face, and he nodded at the man across from him. “Do you
have time this afternoon? Or perhaps early tomorrow?”

Shafiq glanced at the wall next to him in thought for a moment, before turning back to Severus.
“This afternoon isn’t possible, I’m afraid. I’m due in court. I can clear a few things, and I may need
to bring counsel in to expedite some of the paperwork, but tomorrow morning, if you can manage a
six o’clock appointment, I will be waiting for you then.”

Severus debated over the question for a moment, but ultimately decided to speak, “May I have the
name of your counsel?” Severus couldn’t risk word of Harry’s whereabouts leaking to either side
of the war.
Shafiq raised an eyebrow at the question, and Severus realized he sounded rude. “I will not take
chances with him. No one can know where he is nor where he will be.” He explained, but did not
retract the question.

“Currently, we have a staff of three co-counsel, Burns, a young Irish witch whose life’s goal is to
remove British influence from her homeland. She cares about little else and works exclusively for
Gamp, as none of the rest of us can stand her. Abbott, a hardworking and trustworthy wizard,
graduated Hogwarts about ten years ago with excellent marks, but has held onto rather strong ties
to the Headmaster. I have no problem with his work, especially as he usually leaves his politics out
of the office. For something like this, though, I’m not sure I’d want to dangle temptation so
obviously in front of him. Watanabe is our other associate, and the one I would use for such a job
anyway. Brilliant witch. Her father is Japanese and her mother is Chilean, she grew up traveling
the world. Although she has settled here for some legal experience, she has no ties to either side of
our blood dispute or politics. She has just the sharp mind I’d want for something like this, and
she’ll get it done on time, too.”

Severus was impressed. “I would prefer it if Counsel Abbott was not in the office at all tomorrow
morning. Will Counsel Watanabe be willing to make a magical promise of secrecy?”

“I believe so, and I can arrange some filing for Abbott at the Ministry during the time frame you’ll
be here.”

Severus nodded in agreement and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I appreciate how
accommodating you’ve been.”

Shafiq smiled softly. “Did you read his letter? And do you by chance know the history of our
firm?”

“I did not read his letter. I caught a few phrases and he asked me some questions, but it is his own
words and his own business. And no, I’m afraid I have no idea about the history of your firm. I
assumed the former Lord Black hired you?”

Shafiq shook his head. He passed the letter over to Severus. “You really ought to read it when you
get the chance. As for our firm, it’s been extant in some form for the past two-hundred fifty or so
years. The original partnership was between a Gamp ancestor and a long-ago Shafiq. Hester Gamp,
a daughter of that ancient Gamp, married into the Black family, and they have been clients since
the early eighteen-hundreds. We take the commitment to the Blacks quite seriously as we consider
them family.”

Severus nodded, caught up in the story.

“My ancestors, on the other hand, were travelers. Originally, by which I mean something around
the 900s or 1000s, they were a side branch of a prominent family from a mountainous area in
what’s now Northern Pakistan. Co-incidentally, that prominent family also now resides in Magical
Britain. Any guesses what their name might be?”

Severus shook his head, utterly confused by the small smirk the man had on his face. “Potter,”
came the reply, and Severus understood why the man had been so helpful. “Oh, the lines have been
separate for centuries,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And I’m not sure anyone outside of the
family even remembers, but I’ve always loved history, family history, especially. The Potters aided
us when we arrived in Britain, in the mid-fifteen hundreds, about the same time as the muggle
Queen Elizabeth I took up her reign. We served as stewards to the Potter estate at first, and
eventually grew our own prominence as sound minds for both politics and business. That grew into
a love of the law, and my ancestor joined old Gamp senior in forming the firm around the same
time that Charlus Potter married Dorea Black. Both families, Dorea and Charlus along with Hester
and Sirius II, supported the firm, and we got our start. Shafiqs from this firm have been handling
Potter legal affairs since the opening of the firm. I used to write Fleamont on occasion, and he
offered me sound advice and some assistance in my own start with the law. I personally handled
both his and James’ legal issues, but after 1981, the Potter business was taken to another firm. I
never knew why.” Shafiq tapped the letter from Harry that still sat on the desk. “But, now I think I
begin to understand.”

He stood abruptly, and Severus followed suit. He picked up the letter Harry had sent the lawyer
and slid it back into his pocket. He would read it, but he would do so without an audience. Shafiq
seemed to understand his thoughts and smirked. “I shall see you both tomorrow. I’ll clear you both
for apparition directly into the reception room, and let the assistant know to expect you.”

Severus shook his hand once again. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Anything for family.” The man smiled more genuinely than he had before that moment, and held
an arm out to show Severus down the hall.

Severus had spent longer than he realized listening to the law wizard tell his old family stories, and
it was nearing lunchtime. He still had more stops to make, and so he stepped into the Leaky
Cauldron for lunch, first asking Tom for a private room, to avoid any potentially nosy
eavesdroppers or onlookers. Settled into an upstairs parlor with a plate of roast beef, he quickly
sent a patronus messenger to Harry with the news that all was well. He told Harry of the early
morning appointment, and told him they had some things to discuss that evening. Once he had
heard back that all was quiet and Harry was well, he opened the letter Shafiq had returned to him.

To the Law Offices of Gamp, Newscomb, and Shafiq

Attn: Senior Partner Shafiq

My name is Harry Potter, and you can probably guess that I’m writing about the notice I received
this morning regarding the reading of my godfather Sirius Black’s will.

Undoubtedly, you know at least the public version of my story— orphaned at fifteen months, sent to
live with relatives, brought back to the wizarding world at eleven years old, adventures in
Hogwarts, and either the Wizarding World’s darling chosen one, or its disturbed pathological liar,
depending on the Daily Prophet’s current mood.

What most don’t know is that the relatives I was sent to abused me in every way conceivable, and
some you probably can’t conceive. I never knew love or home or family until I met Sirius Black. He
was my only family, and I loved him. Perhaps I clung tighter to him because of my horrid past, and
perhaps he clung tighter to me because of the loss he still felt of my parents, but we formed a bond.
The loss of that is devastating, especially as it comes after so many other profound losses.

Naturally, I wish to attend the will reading, and thus hear his final words, but my current situation
makes that impossible.

I have too many enemies. The Dark Lord Voldemort and his death eaters would happily see my
torture and death, but Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix have the same goal.
Dumbledore is the one who sent me to my muggle relatives, and insists that I return there during
every school holiday, despite knowing and even witnessing what they do to me. He actively
prevented Sirius from adopting me and providing a safe home. He has set traps and sent spies to
ensure that I obey his directives, and his ultimate goal is my death. This may be hard to believe. I
know that many believe his reputation as a kindly, grandfatherly, slightly-absent-minded professor.
I can only offer you my promise that I speak the truth as I know it.

I suspect that Sirius Black mentioned others in his will. Some of the Black family members are
aligned with Voldemort, and some of Sirius’ best friends and associates are agents of Albus
Dumbledore.

I have now escaped from my relatives’, and thus, Dumbledore’s ‘care,’ and currently the Death
Eaters and their boss have no idea where I am either. The man bringing you this letter, Severus
Snape, has rescued me, provided physical and emotional healing, and sacrificed to offer me the
safety I now have for the first time in my life. I trust in him like no other, and I authorize him to
speak on my behalf. I will honor any arrangement he makes.

Things have changed dramatically in my life during the past two or three weeks, and I can no
longer think only of myself. I have a partner, one I love and who holds my soul, and a family to
think of now. Siri once told me that those who love us stay close to us. It’s an entertaining thought
as my sole priority now is the life I’m planning with his schoolyard nemesis. Hopefully, he’s not
watching all the time.

Sirius will always be my family, but he cannot be my future. As I grieve for him, I must also protect
those whom I love. I cannot attend the will reading, despite my great desire to do so, and run the
risk of falling back into Dumbledore’s hands. Severus has told me that something may be done. I
can only hope you will facilitate his plan.

With gratitude,

Harry James Potter

Severus sucked in a deep breath. The letter put paid to any doubts he may still have harboured
about Harry’s devotion, and it renewed his determination to see his little love safe. He finished his
cup of tea and refolded the letter. He removed all trace of emotion from his face, and shook out his
robes before he descended the stairs and paid Tom. He still had several stops to make.

He quickly strode through the alley to Gringotts, where he asked for an early morning appointment
the next day with both his own and Harry’s account managers. He and Harry had discussed it while
in the bath. They wanted to establish a vault for their child. They would each add some gold and
over the years help it grow, and by the time the child reached Hogwarts age, he or she should have
a healthy amount set by for supplies and treats.

The goblins agreed to meet with them jointly after they visited Shafiq, and Severus left the bank,
apparating to Hogwarts. He strode up the path, and into the castle, uncomfortable under the eyes of
all the portraits. He stopped at the gargoyle and asked it to announce him. It slid to the side and he
stepped onto the revolving staircase.

Dumbledore was looking frustrated, he noted with an inward smirk. He hoped he was the cause.
“Good afternoon, headmaster.”

“Severus, what brings you here?”

Severus stopped the sneer from forming, and summoned his patience. “I have news. I was called
two days ago. Peter Pettigrew is now residing at my home to keep a watch over me as I research
for the Dark Lord. Ostensibly, he is there to assist, but we both know his only purpose is to spy.”

“What does Voldemort need researched?” Dumbledore jumped on that immediately, as Severus
had planned.
He pasted a sorrowful look on his face, “He is looking into wand lore. As you know he planned on
kidnapping Ollivander, but the man escaped him. He wishes to know of other wand makers and the
magical theory behind wand lore.” Severus rolled his eyes as though the topic thoroughly bored
him.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore nodded as though it was something he had expected all along. “Most likely
due to what happened when young Harry dueled him in the graveyard.”

Severus had long since learned to follow his cues in a conversation with Dumbledore. “I hardly
think the Dark Lord is concerned with Potter’s mediocre magic,” he sneered.

He watched as Dumbledore smiled secretively, “Ah, but Harry’s wand shares a core with that of
Voldemort’s wand. They are brothers.”

“What?” This was news to Severus as well. He would have to get Harry to share what had really
happened at the end of the tournament.

“Indeed. The wands will not work effectively against one another.” Dumbledore hummed as
though this was not devastating information that held significant importance to the outcome of
future battles.

“Then how?” Severus looked flabbergasted. “You’ve been telling the Order that Potter is integral
to the war, that only he can defeat the Dark Lord. How is he to do that with a wand that will not
cast against its brother?” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Dumbledore leaned backward in his seat. “Harry is vital to the war, Severus. And when the time is
right, he shall do his part in taking down Voldemort. But his role in the war is not as a soldier. I am
not so cruel a man as to train a child to do battle.”

And in a moment, Severus saw the entire plan laid out clearly. The reason for Harry’s suffering,
the constant ‘adventures’ to ensure his sense of self-sacrifice, the brief flashes of a family— never
so much as to build self esteem or a sense of belonging, but just enough to offer him hope and a
reason to go on. It had been very cleverly and subtly done by the master of manipulation, and
Severus felt a burning rage and black hatred fill his soul. Not so cruel as to train him, indeed.
Severus felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. Dumbledore would pay for this treachery.

Dumbledore was still talking. “The time is not yet, however, for Harry to fulfill his role. We must
find him, Severus. We need him.”

“And what should I do about that? If I were to locate him, the brat would run the other way.”
Severus rolled his eyes as though at Harry’s folly, and did his best to keep the venom out of his
voice.

“Nevertheless, I need all eyes we have looking for the boy.” Dumbledore smiled benignly.

Severus sat forward, “I shall add it to my to do list, Albus. But for the moment, I simply stopped by
to let you know that I shall be largely unreachable at least until school begins again. I can do my
best to get messages to you in case of an emergency or some vital information comes up, but please
do not reply. Pettigrew is at my house for a reason, and I fear the Dark Lord suspects my loyalties.
I wish to give the rat no reason to tell his tales.”

“Of course, Severus. Though I do ask that you communicate what and when you are able.”

Severus looked at him evenly, “I remember my duty, Albus. I shall not fail.”
“Very well, my boy. Then, I wish you the best of luck.” The headmaster was all smiles as he
showed Severus out of the office.

Severus was seething, but he needed to get control over his emotions. He had one more stop to
make, and it would be the most difficult. He would need every mental defense he had, and the
anger burning him up would not help. He took several deep breaths, and then apparated to
Wiltshire.

He stood in front of Malfoy Manor, shaking his head at the idiocy of albino peacocks. They were
utterly useless birds, no longer holding the glory of their colorful tails, genetically weakened by
inbreeding, and pampered to the point of impracticality. On second thought, they were entirely
appropriate symbols of the vaunted Malfoy name.

He took a moment to collect his wayward thoughts. It would not do to be so flippant in the
presence of the Dark Lord. Finally, he stepped through the high gates, and strode toward the door.

He waited at the threshold of what he could only call the throne room, but which had previously
been the ballroom of the manor, for the Dark Lord to call him forward. When Severus was finally
waved in, he bowed at the waist before quickly stepping forward and sinking to his knees to kiss
the hem of the Dark Lord’s robe. He had always hated this part, even before the prophecy had been
made, before he had turned spy and traitor, he had hated this part. “My Lord, I bring vital news.”

“Rise and report,” The monster turned his back and spread his arms out in a stretch as though
Severus’ news held no interest.

He kept his eyes down as he spoke, but always managed to know where the Dark Lord was and
where he aimed his wand. “The Potter boy has run away, my Lord. He has left the place of safety
that Dumbledore kept him tucked away in, and deserted the war. The Order is searching for him,
but they have no idea where he ran off to.”

A low, slow chuckle filled the air, but Severus kept his face calm. “He has fled?” The high raspy
voice was full of mirth. “Fled the war? This boy who was supposed to be my downfall cannot
handle a single battle, in which I held back my full strength.”

“So it seems, my Lord.” Severus spoke softly, “Dumbledore has offered him no training, no
information, and in this, I believe he has made a fatal mistake. The boy is no match for my Lord’s
strength or power, and now he knows it and has fled.”

“Yes,” Voldemort drew out the word till it became a hiss and Nagini joined them in the room.
“What do you know of his whereabouts, Severus?”

“Nothing, my Lord. Dumbledore is keeping everything connected to Potter’s location very secret,
but it is easy to see his panic at the loss of the Chosen One,” Severus made sure that the sarcasm
fairly dripped from his lips at those words. “He has not even informed the entire Order of the
Phoenix, and is instead using a few select members to search for the boy. I think he believes that
Potter has simply run away to the muggle world for his own entertainment, and not out of fright.”

The Dark Lord cackled, “It shall be interesting to see what excuses he tries to use to explain the
boy’s absence come September.”

Severus nodded his head with a cruel smile twisting his lips. It was easy to pretend amusement at
this thought since it was also something he wondered himself. “Dumbledore has forbidden me
from revealing this information, worried that it will be used against him politically, not to mention
what might happen to the boy if we should find him first.”
 “Ah, yes,” Voldemort trailed a hand down Nagini’s scales. “That would be interesting. Perhaps we
should also mount a search? After all, anything might happen to a young boy on his own in the
world. Anything at all.”

“Shall I organize our people?” Severus risked a glance up, as though in eagerness to anticipate his
master’s plans.

“No, you shall return to your home and do nothing to raise Dumbledore’s suspicions. I believe I
shall send Wormtail out to find our wayward young wizard.”

Severus frowned at that, as though reluctant to lose his houseguest, “The rat is mediocre at best,
my Lord. I would be happy to take on this task for you.”

The Dark Lord rested his hand on Severus head as he knelt before the man, “Ah, Severus. Your
devotion is noted. But dear Peter is the man for this job. He is good at locating people and has the
skill necessary to observe both the wizarding and the muggle worlds.”

“As my Lord wishes.” Severus bowed his head again and pushed his emotions back. He could not
afford to do a happy dance, even in his own mind, in the presence of the Dark Lord.

“Very good, Severus. Very good indeed,” The man spun, draping his snake around his shoulders as
he walked back to the large chair in the center of the room. “Send Wormtail to me immediately.
Dismissed.”

Severus stood and bowed once more before stepping backward the requisite five steps and turning
to leave the room. He saw Draco lurking next to some heavy drapes in the corridor outside, and
raised an eyebrow. “Draco,” he greeted.

“Uncle.” Draco looked pale and miserable. “Thank you for the letter.”

Severus nodded. “You’re welcome. I hope you consider the words carefully. I shall see you soon,
Draco.”

“Is it true?” His reckless godson blurted.

He merely raised an eyebrow. “Is what true? Be careful, Draco. Always, always be careful.”

He turned and his robes swished behind him as he stepped quickly through the manor and out into
the night. Finally, he was free to return home, free to get rid of the pest, free to take Harry away
from Britain’s increasingly dangerous shores.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the wait. I truly did want to keep to a schedule these past few days, but Covid
has decided to kick my butt. Please keep yourselves safe— it’s really no fun. I’ve got
the last chapter for you, and I should be able to put it up tomorrow, but I don’t know
when Part Three will be ready. Might be a couple weeks or so.
 18 July 1996
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Severus woke in the pre-dawn darkness, holding a warm, sleeping Harry in his arms, and smiled at
the chance to feel this closeness. He knew it wouldn’t last long. Soon, he would have to leave
Harry behind and return to an empty bed in a cold, far-distant country. He glanced around the now-
familiar shadows of their home.

They had packed up all of Harry’s belongings along with a few essentials for Severus the night
before, knowing that this would be an early start. He had wanted to revert the room to its previous
barren state, but Harry had insisted this be a safe and comfortable space should he ever have need
of it again. They couldn’t know what would happen in the future, and if Wormtail or any of the
other Death Eaters ever came calling, at least he could keep the truth of their lives together a secret
with which to comfort himself. Severus found he didn’t want to argue with Harry, and so left the
space as it was.

The embers in the fireplace had burnt low and needed stoking before he could get Harry up. His
boy hated the cold. He slipped from the bed to tend the fire, and smiled as Harry burrowed deeper
into the space he had left. He cast a tempus. They had forty minutes till their appointment with
Shafiq. He didn’t know how long it would take, but had arranged to see the goblins at nine. From
there, they would activate the portkey and leave Britain behind. He wasn’t certain whether Harry
would ever want to return, and he had decided not to press. Once the danger had passed, he would
join Harry and their child wherever they may be. His home was Harry.

He perched on the side of the bed and brushed his hand through Harry’s mess of curls. “ Fy
anwylaf , you need to wake up.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, “Come on, Harry.
Time to get dressed.”

Harry lifted one eyelid and met his gaze. “S’dark Sev,” the mumble came from within the cocoon
of blankets he had wound around himself.

“Yes, but we’re meeting the law wizard at six. You have half an hour to get yourself presentable.”
Severus stood up. “Toast and tea?”

Harry sat up in the bed and gave a mighty yawn before smiling over at him, “thanks.”

Severus wrapped himself up in a dressing gown and headed downstairs. He neither knew nor cared
if Pettigrew was still in the house. He had delivered the Dark Lord’s summons to the rat the night
before, and let him do as he pleased. He would be gone soon, though, Severus thought with a
smirk. He intended to shut down the house and its wards before he left.

He opened the bedroom door with a tea pot in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, and his
breath caught. Harry had emerged from a quick shower and had a towel wrapped around his waist,
rooting through his trunk for clothing. He kicked the door shut and leaned back against it, drinking
in the view of his slightly frustrated beautiful young lover. “Merlin.”

“Hmm?” Harry looked over. “Oh, there you are. Do you know what a person wears to these
things? I’ve no clue.”

“You should wear robes if you have them. Nothing too flashy, despite whose will we shall be
hearing.” He offered a small smile.

“Hah,” Harry shook his head. “Siri’d love it if I turned up in a Metallica shirt, ripped denim, and
chains.” He sniffed and turned back to his trunk, quickly pulling out a pair of unripped black jeans
and a plum colored long-sleeve button down. He also grabbed a robe only one or two shades paler
than the jeans, with faint silver edging.

Severus set down the food and walked over to Harry, laying a hand against his slightly damp
shoulder. “Harry, it’s okay. You can show me your grief, I don’t mind. I don’t feel the same loss,
but I ache for your sadness anyway. And if you want to wear ripped denim and a tee shirt, I shall
say nothing against it. You should honor your godfather in whatever way seems best for you.”

Harry looked up at him and smiled despite the tears in his eyes. “I know. It just— it caught me, is
all. I’ll get dressed and pull myself together.” He stood and pressed a quick kiss to Severus’ cheek.
“Thanks.”

Soon enough, they were both dressed, their luggage shrunk and slipped into pockets, and Severus
sent a revealing spell through the property to ensure Pettigrew had indeed left the house. They
stepped quickly through the darkened rooms and out to the street where Severus raised the
protective warding around the house, ensuring that neither magical nor muggle would be able to
find or enter the place. He turned and wrapped his arms around Harry, and in a moment they
appeared in the waiting room of Gamp Newscomb and Shafiq.

Severus steadied Harry, until he was certain the teenager could stay on his feet, and then turned,
leaving one arm wrapped around Harry’s waist, to face the receptionist. Instead, he found only
Shafiq himself standing at the threshold of the room, and smiling.

“Good morning to you both. Mr. Snape, it’s nice to see you again. I thought it would be easier with
fewer people around. My assistant’s sister is a terrible gossip, and this way, all she knows is that
she has a morning off.” He said with an easy grin. He stepped forward, “You must be Mr. Potter.
Let me introduce myself. I’m Naresh Shafiq. Thank you for the letter you sent, and I offer my
condolences on the loss you must still be feeling.”

Harry shook the outstretched hand and offered a small nod. “Thank you, and I appreciate the extra
accommodation and the security.”

“Not at all,” the man waved Harry’s comment away, and held an arm out to usher them both down
the hall. “In fact,” he led them down to his large office, “I’m very pleased to meet you, finally.”

“Finally?” Harry sounded confused, and Severus realized he hadn’t explained the long-ago family
connection.

“I thought that you would do a better job explaining your history with the family to Harry.” He
leaned closer to Harry and murmured, “forgive me, fy anwylaf , I believe you will want to hear this
from him directly.”

Harry shrugged and turned his attention to the law wizard, who gave him a similar, detailed
explanation of their ancestral connections as well as his personal interactions with the recent
Potters.

“So, you’re family?” Harry sounded slightly awed at the prospect. “And the Potters were originally
from Pakistan?”

“Not Pakistan,” Shafiq smiled, “That’s just a general reference, it didn’t exist back then. Your
family established their estate and power base a bit north of those borders anyway, near
Samarqand. And yes, our families share roots. It’s nice to meet you, cousin.”

Harry’s smile could have lit up the entire Alley. “Cousin. Do you think I could write you? Would
you help me learn the history?”

“It would be an honor.” Shafiq smiled gently at the boy. He glanced at Severus and nodded his
appreciation. Severus offered him a smug smirk. He could tell, even from their first meeting, that
Shafiq would appreciate seeing Harry’s joy at finding family firsthand.

“I wonder why the Potter business changed hands. Who was it that made the arrangements?” Harry
looked both confused and suspicious. Severus knew that the date of the change was significant and
braced himself for finding out more crimes Dumbledore had committed against Harry and his
family.

“I’m afraid I do not know. I received a letter from the law firm of Diggle and Price, and that was
that. I was legally obligated to turn over your business and personal holdings.”

“Diggle?” Harry growled. Severus put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently to ground
him. Shafiq nodded, the knowledge of who backed that particular firm clear in his eyes. “Well, all
right then, what do I have to do to return the Potter business and any other business I have charge
of to your hands?”

“You need to sign a transfer form,” Shafiq pointed his wand at his filing cabinet and a drawer flew
open and a roll of parchment flew out. “But you can’t do it till you’re of age or declared
emancipated.” Harry raised his eyebrows and gestured for Shafiq to continue. “Ah, well,
emancipation can happen in cases of abuse or neglect or if an orphan can provide proof of their
ability to provide for themselves and handle their responsibilities in an adult manner.”

Harry scoffed. “And what if that ability has already been recognized by two headmasters, three
ministry employees including two heads of department, the Chief Warlock himself, the
international press, and a powerful magical object?”

Shafiq looked confused while Severus raised a hand to cover his smile. It seemed that Harry would
not stop surprising him with his scheming Slytherin side nor his keen intelligence and ability to
maneuver through difficult situations.

“The Triwizard Tournament,” Harry said softly, “Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of
Beauxbâtons Académie de la Magie, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Bartemius Crouch Sr., head of
the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of
Magical Games and Sports, Percival Weasley, ministry employee in the Department of
International Magical Cooperation, and the Goblet of Fire itself, all insisted upon my participation
in the Triwizard Tournament, despite my protests. That year, all three participating governments
and schools agreed that only participants of legal age could enter their names. I believe that having
both educational experts and governmental heads agree that I should participate indicates their
belief in my ability to provide for myself and handle my responsibilities.”

Shafiq’s smile had grown larger the longer Harry spoke. “Truly?” He sounded gleeful. “That would
do it, I think. And, just in case, I would be thrilled to represent your case for emancipation should it
ever be challenged, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry. We’re family.” He smiled over the desktop at the man.

“Then, I am Naresh.” He offered Harry and Severus a small bow of his head. “But, for the
moment, let's put aside political maneuvering, and deal with the reason you are here. It may all be a
moot point, depending on what the will reveals.” He removed a large stylized wooden box from
the shelf behind his desk and placed it reverently on the desktop between them. The ebony
gleamed in the office lighting, and the silver fastenings sparked with magic as it was placed.
Severus could see the family crest carved into the top and Sirius’ name around the sides.
“Welcome to the official ” Naresh’s eyes gleamed with mischief, “reading of the last will and
testament of Sirius Orion Black III.” He pressed his wand to the top of the box just below the
motto, and they watched as it melted open.

Inside was a scroll of parchment, which lifted itself up from the desk and unrolled. It had been
written with gold, as was tradition in the magical world, and Severus was startled that the often
irreverent, family-denying, blood traitor Sirius Black would bend to tradition so much. Then, he
remembered what Harry had told him— Black had worn masks. He sighed silently, and wondered
how many more surprises waited to challenge his preconceived notions. Harry’s hand slipped into
his, and he refocused on the reason he was there to begin with. He would support Harry through
any storm, even this one.

Death, it seemed, did not change Sirius Black. His voice emerged from the parchment as hyper and
irreverent as ever. The words were correct, the tone and delivery, less so.

This is the last will and testament of Sirius! Orion! Black! The third!

Severus heard Harry choke back what sounded like half a laugh and half a sob. He squeezed his
hand and smiled when he met his eyes. Harry leaned his head against his shoulder and seemed to
settle.

May all other wills by my hand be void . Let it be hereby known that I leave the entirety of my
estate, once death duties are paid and my law wizard gets his cut, to the most amazing and
outstanding godson in the universe, Harrison! James! Potter! Pup, I’m so proud of you, and I love
you so much. YOU are a better man than your father, you’re sneakier and almost handsomer than
me, you’ve got more smarts than Moony, and I bet you’re blushing by now.

Severus choked as the last six words came out in a teasing, lilting voice. The mutt was irreverent to
the very last. Law wizards had begun enchanting Will Parchments to read themselves as a means to
insure accuracy and authenticity of the documents. Leave it to Sirius Black to turn his own death
into performance art. But, he couldn’t fault the man. Harry’s face indeed was bright red, and
Severus leaned close to whisper, “you’re definitely more handsome than he ever dreamed he was.”
Harry gave his side a small nudge to shut him up, but he was smiling, so Severus counted it as a
win. Sirius’ voice grew more solemn.

I’m sorry we didn’t have more time. Merlin, that sounds like a cliche, but it’s the easiest thing to
write in the world. No matter how much time we had, Pup, I would always have wanted more. If
you haven’t yet, I want you to follow your heart, Harry. Stick to the plan, and live a good life.

To that end, as godfather of Harrison James Potter, so designated by his parents and approved of
by Magic, I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black, acknowledge his emancipation on the grounds of
physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his legal guardians. I recognize his ability and
responsibility as an adult in the magical world. May Magic bless your way, kiddo.

While we’re at it, I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black, acknowledge Andromeda Hester Tonks, née
Black, a true daughter of House Black.
I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black, acknowledge the union between Andromeda Hester Black and
Theodore Andrew Tonks, and welcome Theodore, a valued family member and honorable man, to
House Black.

I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black, acknowledge Nymphadora Aira Tonks, a true daughter of
House Black.

I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black, am heartily sick of the words I, Sirius Orion Black III, Lord
Black. Welcome and welcome back to the family. Now it’s as it always should’ve been. I missed
you, ‘Meda. Give ‘em hell.

I leave a letter to Kingsley Darian Shacklebolt.

I leave a letter and a small gift to Narcissa Adhara Malfoy, née Black, Lady Malfoy.

I leave a warning to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Lord Malfoy. I know what you’ve been doing to my
cousin. Behave, Lucy, or Lord Black will take vengeance for the wrongs done to a daughter of
House Black. He already doesn’t like you much.

Severus frowned at the mention of the Malfoys. He hadn’t considered Lucius a friend for many
long years, but Narcissa. Well, he didn’t really consider her a friend either. Their relationship held
little true affection for one another. They were more of comrades than friends— willing to suffer
together and to assist in one another’s survival. He wondered what Lucius was doing, and even
further, what the Black family might hold over the man’s head. He hoped it would not affect Draco.
He held little love for either of the parents, but his godson’s well being was a duty he refused to
shirk.

I leave a letter to the Weasley family, and release all claims of kinship.

Severus’ eyes widened at that. Releasing kinship wasn’t quite as extreme as a formal— or
informal, for that matter— disownment, but it did mean that no Weasley would be able to make
any claim on or to the Black Family. He wondered what Sirius would have known about the family
that held itself to the epitome of filial affection, and wished fruitlessly that he could read the letter
as well. Perhaps Harry would know.

I leave a letter and my deepest apologies to Severus Tobias Snape. I hope you are willing to
overlook my shortcomings. You have always been the better man, Snape, and if it ever matters, you
have my blessing. May Magic guard and keep you.

That was unexpected. He should have known better than to expect more vitriol, but in all honesty,
Severus had only expected to be ignored. He turned to Harry, who was looking bemusedly up at
him. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, and Severus frowned in thought. He kissed the
side of Harry’s head and tried to figure out how Black could possibly have guessed enough to offer
a blessing on their relationship.

I leave a letter to Remus John Lupin. I’m sorry to leave you, oldest and best of friends, but what a
ride we had, eh? I wish I got to welcome you to House Black, but I suppose that’ll be the next Lord
Black’s job. Say yes when she asks you, Moony.

I leave a letter and a warning to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Diabetes is a real risk,
Sir, especially in someone of advanced age. Perhaps fewer lemon drops? After all, if you don’t eat
your meat, you can’t have any pudding! How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your
meat?
At this, Harry dissolved into giggles. Black’s voice had mimicked the high pitched screeching of
the schoolmarm in the recording, but Severus didn’t think Dumbledore would make the
connection.

Well, folks, I guess that about wraps it up. Oh, last, but not least, I’m leaving a bottle of Ogden’s
best to my law wizard Naresh Shafiq. Now, crack that open and send me off in style.

These are my words and my magic. So mote it be.

Sirius Orion Black III, Lord Black

Witnessed: Remus John Lupin

Kingsley Darian Shacklebolt

Harry turned his face into Severus’ shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around his grieving love. “He
loved you, Harry. It’s clear in every line and every word. He wanted what was best for you.” Harry
just nodded, and Severus resigned himself to tears and snot on his robes.

Each letter, gift, or other small item, as it had been mentioned in the will, had appeared in the black
box. Naresh now had a small pile of letters and a small wrapped package that was likely Narcissa’s
gift on one side of his desk. He also had a bottle of Ogden’s and three tumblers in the center. He
pushed one of the letters toward Severus. “Harry, he told me that you have a pile of letters waiting
you in the main family vault at Gringotts. I’ll give you all the paperwork as you leave. Now, shall
we? I would far rather open this with you than with the others tomorrow.”

Severus pushed the letter back toward the law wizard, with a sly smile. “I shall be returning for the
reading, please keep this for me until then?”

Naresh winked and slipped the letter to Severus back into the stack on his desk. “As you say.”

Harry lifted his face and smiled. “Lucky you. Wish I could see Dumbledore’s face when instead of
the pile of gold he’s hoping for, all he gets is a warning about lemon drops.” He leaned in close to
Severus and sighed. “Oh, I can’t,” he protested, as the law wizard pushed two of the tumblers
across the desk.

Naresh gave him a confused look, and Harry glanced up at Severus, who shrugged. “Pomona and
Granger already know, and we’re off to tell the goblins anyway. It’s up to you. And, I think you
could probably manage a small sip, if you wanted to.”

Harry took the cup, and turned it slowly in his hands, making his decision. Finally, he looked up at
Naresh, “I’m pregnant.”

Severus watched, amused, as the man tried to process those words. “Truly?” He gasped, fighting a
wide grin, as though he didn’t want to be taken in.

“Truly.” Severus acknowledged.

“Well, congratulations to both of you. Wow. Harry, I’m so happy for you.”

It was the right thing to say. Harry beamed. “Thanks. Obviously, we can’t tell anyone we don’t
trust. There’s just too much risk.”

Naresh nodded, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Be my law wizard?” Harry grinned and nodded toward the scroll of parchment with the transfer
request. Naresh nodded, and swiftly unrolled the form, getting down to business.

“It requires a blood signature, but from that moment, I will be your solicitor of record for business,
personal, or professional issues. There may be times when a specific expertise is necessary, and I
will either collaborate with or hire on other counsel, but the general Potter estate will fall back to
my management, under your control, of course.”

Through all this, the man’s affect and voice had not changed from the patient, kind, relaxed,
confident law wizard. Severus felt that this was the way forward. Life was changing rapidly for
him, and he hoped he could keep up with it.

Harry finished signing the documents, and they rolled up and disappeared. Harry clenched his fist
slightly, and Naresh caught the movement. “What happened to your hand, Harry?”

“Long, long story,” Harry’s voice carried weight. “We don’t have the time. We’re off to meet with
the goblins, and then we’re leaving the country. Can I write to you about it? It’ll be one of the first
things I’d like you to work on. Actually, I have a list of things that need dealing with, but that’s a
priority.”

“Of course,” Naresh took the news in stride. “The Potter portfolio will likely start to arrive in the
next hour, and I’ve got plenty to do planning for the scheduled reading tomorrow. I’ll start going
through all the paperwork and refamiliarizing myself with your estate on Monday. Who knows
what Diggle has done with it.” He rolled his eyes. “I may need to collaborate with Gamp, where it
crosses over into Black family business, but honestly, the two families have been enmeshed for
ages, so that’s normal, and he won’t snoop into what he doesn’t need to know. We’ve been
working together too long for that type of thing.”

They stood up and shook hands. “Thanks for everything.”

“Owl me, or floo here, if there’s anything at all that you need.”

Harry grinned as they walked into the still-empty reception area, “count on it!”

Severus cast a tempus charm and glanced at Harry. “We’ve got a half-hour. Is there anything you
need in the Alley?”

“Um, yeah.” He fidgeted. “Can we go see the twins?”

Severus sighed. It wasn’t how he wanted to spend a morning. The demon twins had not been his
favourite students, despite their bright, insightful nature. He did appreciate that they kept their
pranks general rather than targeted and for the most part harmless rather than bullying, but chaos
reigned anywhere they were. He looked into Harry’s hopeful eyes, and couldn’t be the reason that
hope disappeared. Harry would be leaving all his friends behind, and yes, Granger knew why, and
he suspected Longbottom and perhaps Lovegood would soon understand as well, but Harry had
few enough friends. Leaving without telling the twins would be hard on him. “Very well.” He
didn’t look at Shafiq, whom he was sure was laughing at him. “Do you have your cloak?”

Harry nodded, and pulled it out of a pocket. “Thanks again, Naresh.” He stepped closer to Severus
and threw the cloak over both of them, then led the way outside.

After an eye-searing experience at a shop Severus hoped he would never again have cause to visit,
he found himself sitting with Harry in a small Gringotts office. The goblins had, of course, known
immediately when he had entered with an invisible Harry behind him, and they were welcomed to
the bank at spear point. Severus had spoken up and requested a private room and the presence of
their managers by name, and the goblins had relented somewhat upon learning that they had, in
fact, made an appointment.

Harry emerged from the cloak, and bowed to the goblins watching them. “I apologize to the
Goblins of Gringotts for my seeming deception. I do not wish to hide my identity from the Nation,
but from wizards and witches who would keep me unjustly confined.”

“You will submit to goblin identification and keep your wands holstered at all times,” The lead
warrior stated. “Or we shall consider this an incursion by Wizards upon Goblin ground.”

“We do not wish to start a war, what is required for goblin identification.” Severus spoke quickly to
keep Harry from agreeing to something he didn’t understand. Harry glanced quickly over at him,
before turning to the goblins for more information.

“Blood parchment,” came the response. “Seven drops of blood.”

“Sev, I can do that,” Harry had put a hand on his arm. “And this is important.”

Severus relented, but watched every movement as Harry took a black-handled knife from a goblin
and sliced his thumb. Harry had glanced up at the goblins before wandlessly cleansing his blood
from the blade. “No wand,” he said evenly. The goblin looked displeased but nodded his
acceptance of the action.

The blood had been absorbed into the small slip of parchment to form his name and titles.

Harrison James Potter

Born 23:48:00, 31 July 1981

Emancipated 20:04:32, 31 October 1994

Legal holder of the Potter, Black, Peverell, and Founders titles, vaults, and estates.

Harry’s eyes grew round at the list, and he handed it first to Severus whose jaw dropped before he
handed the paper to the goblins. The goblins conferred for a moment in their own language before
turning to Harry and eyeing him sharply. Severus thought they looked like so many sharks scenting
blood.

Finally, one of the goblins spoke up. “I am Silverfang. I’ve been handling the Potter finances for
the past fourteen years.”

“Let me guess,” Harry’s gaze had turned shrewd. “Albus Dumbledore named you account manager
early November 1981?” Silverfang nodded, and glanced at the other goblins with him. In Severus’
opinion, he was looking rather squirrelly. Harry narrowed his eyes. “And have you informed Albus
Dumbledore about this particular appointment?” The goblin was definitely looking uncomfortable,
as his fellows also turned critical eyes to him.

“If I have, it was for your benefit.” Silverfang took a deep breath. One of the other goblins began
shouting at him, but he was standing his ground. The door slammed open and a stately goblin
walked in, looking rather more battle worn than the others. A scar ran down the right side of his
face from hairline to jaw, and he had a slight limp that didn’t seem to cause him pain. He was
covered in weapons, from the ax strapped to his back to the sword and daggers in his belt. He
paused and took in the scene for a moment.
“I am Ragnok,” the goblin announced. Harry looked confused but Severus and the bickering
goblins immediately stood and bowed. Harry followed their example quickly. “I was told the heir
to multiple ancient lines has arrived.”

Severus nudged Harry forward, and earned a cross look for his trouble. Harry nodded and
presented his piece of parchment. “I am Harry.” Severus closed his eyes briefly, wondering what
he had done to earn this particular punishment. He stepped slightly closer to his lover, though he
knew that every goblin in the room noticed his protective stance.

Ragnok seemed to find Harry entertaining though, and merely smiled as he waved the three from
behind the desk, and took a seat facing them. Harry sat as the goblin did, and leaned forward over
the desk. “Can you tell me about these titles?”

“I can, and shall.” Ragnok nodded as he ran a finger down the slip of blood parchment. “Potter, as
you probably know, you have inherited as a direct heir of the body from your father, James
Fleamont Potter. Black, I presume you have paperwork for?” Harry handed over the packet of
information Naresh had provided. “Ah yes.” The goblin scanned the first page. “This is in order.
Then you hold the Black title as the named heir, though not of the body, of your godfather, Sirius
Orion Black. These are the only modern titles you hold. Peverell is an ancient title, which is extinct
in the male line. The Potter family are descendants of the Peverells along a female line. Gryffindor
is an ancient title, one of the two founding lines, and as you no doubt know, one of the Eminent
Four established Houses of Hogwarts. It is only passed down through a feat of magical strength
and nobility. Have you performed such?”

“Well, I defeated a basilisk with the Sword of Godric Gryffindor when I was twelve. Does that
count?” All four of the goblins present gasped, their eyes widening at the mention of the famed
sword.

“It does indeed,” The goblin nodded. “Slytherin is the other founding title, and knowing what I do
of your story, I believe that you inherited it when you defeated the previous Heir of Slytherin, Tom
Marvolo Riddle, now known as the Dark Lord Voldemort.”

“I inherited a title as a baby?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

The goblin chief raised his own eyebrow in return, “As you did with the Potter title, yes. Holding
as you do, both of the founding titles,”

“Wait a moment,” Harry interrupted and Severus felt his insides twist and tighten, but Ragnok
simply paused in his narrative. “There are four founding lines, aren’t there? Like the four houses.”

“Ah,” Ragnok chuckled. “The arrogance of wizards is to discount any they perceive as weak.
Including women. There are indeed four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Goblins know them as the Eminent Four, but at the time the institution was founded, only men
could own property. Indeed, women were considered property. That ruling did not change until the
eighteenth century, even in the magical world. To protect Rowena Ravenclaw, her descendants and
properties, Godric Gryffindor took ownership of the Ravenclaw line. To protect Helga Hufflepuff,
and by all accounts, she did not need protection in the slightest, Salazar Slytherin did the same for
her descendants and properties. The school charter ensures a fair distribution of the governing
power between all four lines, but the current Ravenclaw heir is unknown and the Hufflepuff
descendants have been squabbling over the rightful inheritance for centuries. For all intents and
purposes, you both own and control the school.”

“Huh,” Harry scrunched his nose, “That’s a stupid rule.”

 “Indeed,” The chief smiled at Harry, and Severus tried not to be terrified. “Nevertheless, it was the
law, and accordingly, you now own Hogwarts— both the institution and the castle.”

“That’s cool,” Harry shrugged. “Do I have to do anything?”

“If you wish to leave it in the hands of the governors and the headmaster, there is no need for you
to do anything. If you wish to change things, you will need to be named and take up leadership.”

“Can I leave it for now and change things later? It’s not really safe at the moment,” Harry shot a
dirty look at Silverfang.

“Acceptable,” Ragnok nodded. “From this moment, I will personally handle all your financial
dealings. Do you have any other questions?”

“Lots, but not a lot of time.” Harry shared a quick glance with Severus. He could tell that neither of
them wanted to discuss setting up a baby vault in front of the other goblins. Severus had major
doubts about Silverfang at least. Harry nodded at him, “May I write to you?”

Ragnok nodded, “Naturally.”

“Good, my law wizard might also write. His name is Naresh Shafiq, and he and Severus Snape are
the only two people who speak for me. Please do not deal with any other supposed representative.”
Harry sent a nasty smirk at Silverfang, and then turned back to Ragnok. “Thanks for your help with
everything.”

Ragnok smiled with lots of fang, “A word of advice, young Lordling, do not offer thanks to a
goblin. We see it as an acknowledgment of a debt. I shall pass on it, as you clearly do not recognize
it in this way, but be wary in the future.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he nodded, quickly. “Then, Ragnok, I am appreciative of the assistance
you offered during this meeting and I look forward to working with you in the future. I wish you a
profitable and pleasant day.”

“Well said, and well met, Harry. I offer you the use of our private entry, if you wish it.” He shot a
look that spelled disaster for Silverfang. “I believe your presence in the bank has been exposed to
the wrong people, and this will allow you to depart in safety.”

Severus saw Harry gulp back the thanks he wanted to offer, and the boy nodded in reply. “Again,
sir, I am appreciative.” Ragnok grinned, and led the way to the private entrance, and they said their
farewells to the goblin chief.

Severus took a deep breath. He wondered when protecting Harry would mean normal things like
setting wards against intruders and making sure he didn’t accidentally cut himself when preparing
dinner. Why did it have to be Goblin nobility? He gathered Harry close and pressed a kiss to his
forehead. “Are you ready, love?” He was beyond ready to leave.

“Let’s go, Sev,” Harry squeezed him tightly as the portkey activated.

Chapter End Notes

And that does it for Part 2. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. As I said before, Part 3 is in the
works still. It might be a while before I’m feeling up to working on it, if the Covid
 stays this horrible, but who knows? Don’t expect it for at least a couple weeks, maybe
a month. Nevertheless, I absolutely will post it.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!