The Black Legacy by SueMonroe

Summary: After the Dept. of Mysteries Harry realizes the world is not as black and white as he'd thought. How will the Black Legacy change Harry's future?

Back at Privet Drive

July 1996

It was a warm summer evening; a light breeze was ruffling the leaves in the trees; children were shouting and laughing while playing in the sprinklers. All in all it was a perfectly normal day in a perfectly normal neighborhood; normal, that is, except for an almost 16 year old wizard named Harry Potter. It happened to be Harry's first day of summer holidays from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The young wizard was standing at the stove cooking dinner for his family when his aunt walked into the room.

“Hurry up and finish, your cousin deserves a good dinner. My poor Duddykins, having to eat all that horrible school food.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“When you've finished, serve our dinner in the dining room; you eat in the kitchen from now on. When we've eaten someone will call you to clean up; mind you, don't leave a single crumb on my counters. Afterwards, get yourself upstairs; neither your uncle nor I want to hear a peep from you until breakfast. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry answered in an almost lazy drawl.

With a last `humph' Petunia stalked out of the room. Harry served the kidney pie he had prepared, and then ate his share at the kitchen table, knowing he was only allowed a full serving due to the threats some of the Order members made to his relatives earlier in the day.

“Boy, get in here!” Vernon bellowed after a while.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

“Clean this up.” Dudley kicked him as he was clearing the table. Harry mumbled under his breath, causing Dudley to whine, “Daddy, he's doing it again.”

“Boy, there'll be none of that funny business in this house, or you'll be locked in your room all summer!” With his face turning red, Vernon waddled to the living room, and Harry heard him mumble, “Freaks threaten me in public, how dare they.”

Harry cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the countertops. Wandering upstairs to his room, he tried his hardest to think of nothing at all. It was better than remembering what had happened during the school year.



Several days went by in this manner; Harry's usual workload was reduced to preparing breakfast and the occasional dinner, along with some gardening. Although the verbal abuse didn't stop, it did lessen; now he only heard `freak' about twice a day instead of all day long. Dudley still pushed him around whenever he saw him, but the `Harry Hunting' had stopped. All in all it could have been much worse. The chores he really didn't mind − he enjoyed cooking, and at least the lawn work got him out in the fresh air. It was the only time he did not sit in his room and brood about things he could not forget.

One of these things was the conversation he had with Professor Dumbledore before leaving school, about Sirius and the prophecy.

…He will have Power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

Harry had been trying since that day to sort out his thoughts and feelings about the prophecy, his anger at Dumbledore, and Sirius' death. His latest attempt involved a Muggle notebook his cousin Dudley had thrown out and a pen. Harry hoped that by writing out the jumble in his head he would come to some resolution for it.

He contemplated the blank wall for a moment, then started writing.

I'm still pissed at Dumbledore, he should have told me about the prophecy a long time ago. He says that he's told me everything now, but I find it hard to believe. If he kept that from me, I wonder what else he could be hiding. I almost believe his reasons − that he didn't want to burden me − but he still could be keeping things from me for the same reasons. I'm just so frustrated; it's my life, I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort, I need to know as much about him as I can if I am to be prepared. I know I'm young, but I'm not a child, I haven't been one for a long time. And speaking of the prophecy, Sweet Merlin I have to kill someone. The very thought of it makes me ill, I understand that he is evil personified, but to take a life? And how, how am I supposed to do it, what is this power that he doesn't know about? Love? Doesn't seem likely to me. I think that the Headmaster doesn't know either and is trying to give me some hope. Not reassuring. I think that love got him out of my head when Voldemort possessed me, but how does one wield love, what spell do you use? I mean, he sucks the joy out of me, but he's not a dementor so no Patronus, and that's the only spell I know using emotion. If I'm destined to kill the bastard, then why doesn't Dumbledore teach me how? And Sirius, oh Sirius, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, I should have kept up with the Occlumency lessons, I should have trusted Snape, I knew that Order members had ways to reach each other. You were the only family I had left and I let you down, and it led to your death. I know there is no forgiveness for what I have done and failed to do, but I beg it from you anyway. My heart feels empty, it's like a big black hole has opened in it and is sucking all the joy from my life. Well, it is no less than what I deserve. I swear by whichever deity that is listening that I will avenge you.

Harry set the pen aside and sat brooding in the silence.

A month later Harry had his resolution; now he needed to steel his nerve and act on that resolution. He was glad for once that he was at the Dursleys'; they would never dream of stopping him. Now all he had left to do was write a few final letters and then move forward with his final plans.

The Weasley family was just sitting down to dinner when Hedwig flew though the open kitchen window, dropping a letter on the plate of a startled Ron Weasley.

“Well go on then, Ron,” said George.

“Tell us what Harry has to say,” finished Fred.

Ron cleared his throat and started to read; after a second his eyes widened and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. His sister Ginny took the letter from his limp fingers and started reading out loud.

To the Weasley family,

I want to make sure I told you all how much you've meant to me over the past 5 years. Bill and Charlie have shown me that having older brothers could be fun. Fred and George, I know without a doubt that your joke shop will be the toast of Diagon Alley. You were both always there when I needed help or a good laugh. Ginny, you've helped me see that my life isn't the only one that was controlled by Voldemort; I'm glad your encounter with him only lasted a short while. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, you've shown me what parents can and should be, you welcomed me into your home and made me feel like part of your family; I can never express how much that has meant to me. Ron, you're my best mate and have mostly seen past the boy who lived to see Harry − you can't know how much I've needed that. Once again, I want to thank you all for the love and friendship you've offered to a boy you hardly knew.

Forever Yours,
Harry Potter

By the time Ginny finished the letter, Molly was sobbing, Arthur was tearing up, the twins were gape-mouthed and Ron had his head on the table.

“Arthur, Floo-call Albus, make him check on the poor boy right now,” Molly said between sobs.

Remus Lupin was lounging on the couch in the sitting room of No. 12 Grimmauld Place, reading a good novel, enjoying the relative peace, and recovering from the full moon with a snifter of really good brandy when Hedwig delivered his missive.

“Thanks, girl, I'm glad to hear from Harry,” he said while stroking the owl and unrolling the parchment from her leg. Hedwig gently nipped his finger in farewell, hooted, and left just as quickly as she arrived. Remus opened the letter, leaning back to enjoy what Harry had to say. Less than a minute later he was lurching up and spitting out a mouthful of perfectly good brandy as he read,

Dear Remus,

You are my last remaining link to my parents, and I want to thank you for sharing your memories of them with me. I also want to thank you again for helping me third year with the Patronus Charm. I have never so proud as I was when I saved Sirius from all those dementors; it was one of the few times in my life that I did the right thing and helped someone instead of hurting them. Hurting them, like I did last month. I know that I have no right to ask it of you, but I beg your forgiveness for being the cause of Sirius' death. Please know that I mourn him with all my heart, and wish that I could bring him back. I'm sorry I'm the reason you lost yet another friend to the evil that is Voldemort. Please know that you have always given me happiness and I am glad to have known you.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

As soon as he read the last word, the werewolf was on his knees in front of the fireplace, yelling, “Headmaster's office, Hogwarts.”

Hermione Granger lay face down on her bed, with her nose in a thick book, adding the finishing touches to her Arithmancy essay, when Hedwig flew through her open bedroom window. The snowy owl circled lazily once and landed on the open book.

“Hello, Hedwig, what's Harry doing?” After untying the scroll from the bird, Hermione rolled over to read the letter. Hedwig headed out the window for her last stop.


Dear Hermione,

Are you finished with your homework yet? Just kidding. So much is happening to me right now, and I wish I had your advice. Hell, just being able to talk to you about this mess would be brilliant. Talking to you always helps me sort my thoughts; I won't even mention all the things I learn talking to you. Anyway, just need to tell you I've always appreciated your advice, even if it didn't seem like it at the time. You're the smartest witch I know, no doubt you'd come up with a dozen alternative plans for me. But I'm on my own so I guess I'll have to go with my strength. Reckless bravery. I hope you get the chance to lecture me on it later. If not, never forget: wands don't belong anywhere near a troll nostril, and you are the best friend I've ever had.

Love,
Harry Potter

“Oh, Harry, please don't do anything stupid,” whispered the young woman on the bed. She was afraid that by the time she could contact the Weasleys or Headmaster Dumbledore, it would be too late to help Harry.

The Potions master of Hogwarts sat at his desk in his study, wrestling with lesson plans for the next year's group of dunderheads to ignore and/or fail, when he heard a noise. Looking around, he noticed a snowy owl flying in from the living room. “Well, I do believe you are Potter's owl, are you not?” he inquired. The owl in question landed lightly on the open lesson plans and politely held out her leg. Once the scroll was removed by precise hands, Hedwig flew out the way she came in and headed up to the owlery.

Severus Snape sat back in his chair, removed his wand from his shirt sleeve and proceeded to cast every spell-revealing charm he knew. When it was clear that the scroll was just parchment and ink, he picked it up and tapped it lightly on his desk while he thought. Why in the bloody hell would Potter of all people be sending me a letter? he thought. What in Merlin's name is he up to this time? Ah well, only one way to find out. And he gently unrolled the parchment, still not convinced that this wasn't some kind of prank.

Professor Snape,

I hope you'll read this and not burn it as soon as you realize who it's from. Maybe your suspicious nature will be enough to entice you to read on. Despite your suspicions, this is not a prank or a dare. I have an apology to offer and information I feel you need to know. Have I got your attention yet? Good. First, I am sorry for looking in your Pensieve; it was inexcusable. There is no acceptable reason for what I did; I was angry and it was there. Like I said, inexcusable; I ask your forgiveness anyway. Second, I don't know how much it means coming from me, but I am sorry that my father and Sirius were so horrible to you. What they did was wrong; I hope my father changed as he got older. Sadly, I don't think Sirius ever did. Between you and me there seems to be an endless list of apologies we owe each other. While I don't ever expect to hear one from you, I feel compelled to give my own. I'm sorry I blamed you for Sirius' death. I'm sorry I didn't try harder in Occlumency. I'm sorry I didn't trust you to inform the Order that day in Umbridge's office. I'm sorry that said lack of trust led to my rash actions and ultimately Sirius dying. For what it's worth, I have learned that lesson at least. Given what I've seen in my visions of Voldemort I no longer doubt you. I want you to know you have my respect, my admiration, and my trust. What visions am I talking about, you ask? I don't know if you are aware but they have not stopped; moreover, I can now tell the difference between what is planted and those that are real. I've been sending accounts of the visions to Dumbledore all summer. I think he's using them to test your loyalty; he keeps asking for details on what you say and do in Voldemort's presence. I know Dumbledore has another spy among the Death Eaters but I haven't been able to discover who it is. I know that Dumbledore has never told me the full truth, and I was unsure if you were aware of this information. Do with it what you will. I wish you the best.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

Severus read the letter once more, set it down on the desk, stood, walked over to the bookshelf opposite his desk, poured a healthy three fingers of scotch, sat back down and read the letter a third time while sipping the expensive liquor. Well, the Potter brat just got interesting, he mused. Why is he giving me this information? The apologies I can see, he is such a Gryffindor that once he perceives that he has misbehaved he will always apologize, but the second spy and Albus doubting me? What does he expect for that information? Very intriguing. He will bear more careful watching and a little digging when term starts. Severus Snape did not believe in information freely given; he always expected to have to pay for it. The question was, could he afford it?

The Potions master settled back down to the lesson plans and brooding when, for the second time in an hour, an annoyance in the form of that blasted phoenix interrupted him. After an angry glower failed to make the stupid bird leave he took a note from its beak. “I have no desire to put up with Albus right now, so remove yourself from my presence; I will deal with this missive at my leisure,” he grumbled. Fawkes trilled out a sharp note. “Bugger it, I will read it now, you despotic bird.”

Severus,

Would you be so kind as to come to see me before dinner? I have several items to discuss with you. It should not take long.

A.D.

When a look at the clock on his desk showed there was only an hour till dinner, Severus stood up and grabbed his robes, slipping them on and doing up the many small buttons. He scowled at the phoenix. “Tell the meddling old coot that I'm on my way up.” Once the bird left, the Potions master took the Potter boy's letter, set it on the floor and burned it, carefully disposing of the ashes.

Severus walked out of his study, though the parlor, and out his door. After double checking that his wards were secure, he stalked with his normal ground-eating stride towards the headmaster's office. A nod to the Bloody Baron, a casual curse with his wand that sent Peeves screaming to the other side of the castle, and ten minutes time saw him there. Spitting out the asinine password of the day − `Sugar Quills', − he made his way into the over-decorated, recently trashed office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Ah, Severus, thank you for coming,” said Albus. “Tea?”

“If you can refrain from lacing it with calming draught, then yes.” Severus sat in the least offensive chair: a wing-backed arm chair across from the headmaster's desk. After receiving his tea and sniffing it to assure himself it was only tea, he drawled, “What is it that you wished to see me about, Headmaster?”

“There is a possibility that Voldemort may try to kidnap Harry Potter on his birthday. I was wondering if you had heard anything on this matter,” Albus said from behind his desk where he was sipping his tea.

“Albus, if I had information regarding the kidnapping of your Golden Boy, you would be the first person I informed. No matter how much I personally dislike the brat, I am cognizant of the fact that he is vital to this war. How strong of a possibility are we talking about?” Severus was sincerely worried, not that he would ever admit such a thing. It was almost enough to make him wish there had been a calming draught in the tea. Almost.

“I'm sure my informant told me what they heard; I am unsure, however, of the accuracy of what they heard. I was hoping to verify it with you. I was also told by the same source that Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban two weeks ago, but the Ministry will not confirm that. Have you any information?” The headmaster seemed worried that his spy was not aware of these developments.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Albus, I have told you everything I heard at the last meeting. I have not seen Lucius, nor has the Dark Lord mentioned him.”

Unable to contain his restlessness any longer, Severus stood to prowl around the office. “Is my inability to substantiate these rumors the reason behind your recent misgivings in regards to my true allegiance?”

The stilted formal words pained the Headmaster; Severus only took refuge behind them when upset. Albus rushed to reassure him, “My dear boy, I have never doubted you. My concern is that you do not seem to have Voldemort's ear anymore; I am afraid that he suspects you. I believe the time is coming for you to remain here when he calls.”

“Albus, I think I would be aware if he suspected me. All the raids that I have informed you of have taken place. There is no reason to believe he suspects my true loyalties. May I inquire as to who this informant is?” The Potions master was still pacing restlessly around the office. Let's see if the old coot will tell me about Potter's visions or the identity of the other spy. I questioned the accuracy of Potter's statement, but not now. No matter that Albus claims not to doubt me, I can see the doubt in his eyes, and if I'm to be truthful, I've seen it for months now. Why am I surprised; no one ever trusts the spy. I have never lied to him. The only one I lie to is the Dark Lord and those lies are at the coot's behest.

“I'm sorry, Severus, but my informant wishes to remain anonymous at this time, although I do wish I could tell you. One of my greatest fears is that your position will be compromised soon. I worry about you, my boy.”

Severus snorted at this. “I'm a grown man, Albus, fully capable of taking care of myself. Do not worry yourself on my account; worry about your Golden Boy. When is the brat's birthday?”

“Young Harry will turn 16 on the 31st of this month. Only two days from now, and I fear that we will have to retrieve him early this year.”

Severus hissed suddenly as liquid fire went through him. He grabbed his left forearm and hastily said, “We will have to continue this conversation at a later time. I am being summoned. Perhaps I will have more detailed information regarding Potter for you later this evening.” With that, he turned on his heels and strode out the door, robes billowing behind him.

A softly spoken `Take care, my dear boy' followed him out.

Into the Breech

July 1996

Harry Potter watched as a quarter moon rose in the night sky; taking one last look around his small bedroom, he checked that his wand was in his pocket and headed out the door. Judging by the snoring he could hear coming from his uncle and cousin, he knew the Dursleys were fast asleep as he made his way downstairs and out the front door. Taking a deep breath at the edge of the wards he could feel tingling on his skin, he stepped outside them. Nobody here. Well, that would be too easy. Guess I'll take a walk to the park. He strolled slowly down the sleeping street, head down, eyes constantly looking for danger. Come on, you gits, I know you're here somewhere. Finally he saw movement; two black shrouded figures with wands at the ready approached from his left. Harry stood to his full height. “It's about time you showed up,” he called out. “I thought I was going to have to flag you down.”

The two Death Eaters seemed taken aback when they heard him speaking calmly; the taller one quickly came to his senses and demanded, “Are you looking forward to your death, boy, to walk so calmly to meet it?”

Harry laughed. “You don't have the authority to kill me, Lucius. Take me to see Tom; I have something I wish to give him.”

“Very well, Potter, it is always amusing to see fools walk so readily to their doom. Take my arm and I will Apparate us there.” Lucius Malfoy could sound imposing and condescending even in a firmly Muggle park. He held out his left arm, keeping the wand in his right hand trained on Harry.

Harry calmly walked over and placed his hand on the outstretched arm.

“What about the Muggles, do we still follow the plan?” asked the other Death Eater.

“Leave them be, we have what we came for.” Having said that, Lucius Apparated away with Harry, leaving the other to follow.

They reappeared outside a dilapidated farmhouse with the scent of apple trees hanging in the breeze. Harry removed his hand and looked around. He could see no others around, but there were lights coming from the house. “He's in there, I suppose?” Harry questioned Malfoy.

“Yes, Potter, he is, now be a good dead boy and give me your wand. The Dark Lord will not see you if you're armed. Or I could just take it from you; either way I get my entertainment for the night.” The haughty smile on Malfoy's face rubbed Harry the wrong way. He took his wand out of his pocket. “This wand? I don't think I want to give it to you.” Before he finished speaking, Harry cast a stunning spell too fast for Lucius to dodge.

Harry looked down at the arrogant man he stunned and laughed lightly. He bound the unconscious man, pocketing the blonde's wand, and waited for the other Death Eater to arrive. Sure enough, only a couple of moments passed when he heard the tell-tale crack of Apparition. Before the second Death Eater even noticed Harry was there, he, too, was stunned and bound. Harry laughed again as he pocketed a second wand. “Never underestimate your opponent, you gits.”

Making his way to the farmhouse, Harry firmed his resolve to end this war, tonight. He was tired and just wanted it all to stop: all the killing, all the fear; he just wanted peace. Harry was determined to do whatever necessary to find it.

Severus stalked quickly through the hallway of the farmhouse the Dark Lord had been using as headquarters for his dark forces; the house was silent around him, leaving him to wonder why he had been called. The eerie silence continued into the old living room now converted into Voldemort's throne room. The Dark Lord sat on his throne, tapping his fingers on the arm; behind him, five masked Death Eaters spoke quietly while poring over a map. Severus approached, eyes downcast, till he reached his master's side; he kneeled before the creature, kissing the dusty hem of the expensive black robes.

“Severus, my faithful servant, rise, for I have need of your skill,” hissed Voldemort.

Standing gracefully, Severus took a step back and replied, “As always, my Lord, you need only bid me and it will be done.”

The hideous snakelike man held out a piece of parchment with lines of spidery print on it. “A list of potions you will brew me; they will be needed within the week.”

Severus took the list and looked over it quickly. “My Lord, forgive me, but the Nocens Memoria alone takes a full week to brew, I would be unable to finish the others within that time frame.”

“That is why I have sent Wormtail to your home to assist you. You will have him handle the mindless labor while you, my faithful Potions master, see to the delicate work that is your specialty.”

Severus was not pleased at the thought of having that filthy rat in his house, but was well aware of the consequences of disagreeing with the Dark Lord. “My Lord has thought of everything…” he started, with a bow of servitude. His sentence was cut off when the door to the throne room was slammed open with such force that it put a hole in the plaster behind it.

As a slim figure appeared in the shadow of the doorway, all the Death Eaters jumped to their feet, wands pointed at the intruder. “Who dares enter my presence in such an arrogant fashion?” demanded the still-seated Voldemort imperiously.
Severus watched with growing horror as the figure in the doorway walked forward into the torch-lit room and was revealed to be none other than the Gryffindor Golden Boy himself. “Hello, Tom, I heard you were planning on collecting me for my birthday; thought I would spare you the trouble,” drawled the impertinent brat.

As Potter stood in the center of the room with his wand by his side, Severus quickly thought of and rejected a dozen different plans for getting them both out of this alive. He was furious that the Potter brat had so brazenly put them both in danger.

Rough hands seized the boy, restraining his arms; Harry made no move to pull away from the two Death Eaters holding him. Voldemort rose from his throne to circle his new captive. “Harry Potter,” he hissed, “how kind of you to present yourself. You are quite correct; I was planning a little surprise for your sixteenth birthday. Your death.”

“I know, Tom. I also know about your plans for St. Mungo's. Attacking the helpless, is that the best you can do?” Harry taunted. “You keep running from Dumbledore and he's twice your age; you couldn't kill me when I was an infant, or when I was eleven, and you failed again when I was fourteen! You are nothing but a fraud and a coward.”

Red eyes flashed in anger. “Crucio!” shouted Voldemort, holding the curse even as Harry convulsed in the grip of his captors. “I wonder how long your insolence will last before you break.”

Severus watched with horror-tinged admiration as the boy withstood the Cruciatus curse in silence. The brat had to have balls of solid steel to mouth off to the Dark Lord; it would take a foolhardy Gryffindor to call the snake a coward. But now was not the time for such thoughts. He had to worry about getting them both out alive and relatively sane.

Lifting the curse, Voldemort returned to his throne. “Tell me, Potter, where are you getting your information? Which of my Death Eaters has betrayed me?”

Harry drew a shaky breath and lifted his head; green eyes met red and held. “Fuck you, Tom,” he growled.

“Come now, boy, give me a name and I'll grant you a quick death; continue to defy me, and I will not be so merciful,” spat Voldemort in anger.

Severus flinched imperceptibly at the talk about spies; he knew the Dark Lord would soon tire of toying with the boy and use Legilimency to access the information he desired. One look in the brat's unprotected mind and the Dark Lord would discover his treachery and they would both die, painfully. Doing the only thing he could think of to salvage the situation and save the wretched boy, Severus drew his wand and cursed the masked form before him, shoving another into the Dark Lord. “Run, Potter,” he shouted.

The Death Eater holding Harry's right arm fell to Snape's curse, the one on the left tumbled to his knees, head colliding with the hard wooden arm of Voldemort's throne. Harry flashed an incredulous look at Snape, but stood his ground. Voldemort snapped his fingers and Snape was bound at the wrists, wand falling to the floor before him. Snape the git once again endangered his own life to save Harry's; you had to admire that.

“Fool!” hissed Voldemort. “You threw away all I gave you, for what? The opportunity to play Dumbledore's tame Death Eater? The darkness I feel in you will never gain his trust. Tell me, Severus, why did you betray me?”

Knowing his pride was all that was left for him, Severus prepared to die, but not before he gave the monster that had ruled more than half his life a piece of his mind. “I was damned the instant I took your mark and betrayed my humanity. I turned away from you seventeen years ago; you are not worthy of my loyalty, nor my respect. I would rather serve a rabid, diseased dog than one such as you; however I highly doubt there is much distinction.”

You had to admit Snape was gifted in the art of insult; Harry could not contain his laughter. “Well said, Professor, although the dog would probably smell better, don't you agree?”

“Indeed, Potter.” Who knew the boy had such a morbid sense of humor.

Furious, Voldemort stood and kicked the unconscious Death Eater out of his path as he advanced on Harry, missing the subtle gesture of Harry's hand as he wordlessly freed Snape's bindings. “Before I deal with the traitor, Potter, I will silence your insolent mouth forever.”

He cast a curse to boil the brat's blood in his veins only to narrowly dodge as his own curse rebound off a black shield that briefly flared around the boy. Ignoring the screams of the Death Eater behind him who ducked too slowly, Voldemort could only think of ending the life of the ever annoying boy who would not die. He began the incantation of the killing curse. “Avada…”

Before the monster could finish, Harry raised both hands and screamed, “Burn in hell, you miserable bastard!”

Black flames flew from his fingertips and engulfed the creature before him; he could feel Voldemort's power surge trying to overcome the flames. Harry poured more power into the magical flames; sheer willpower fueled the fire.

Severus watched as the black fire surrounded the Dark Lord; he could feel the magic in the air, smell burning flesh, but could feel no heat from the inferno before him. With no time to ponder the strange turn of fate, Severus disarmed and stunned one of the remaining Death Eaters. Looking around he saw the other bringing his wand to bear on Potter; moving swiftly to the boy's side, Severus cast a shielding charm just in time to deflect a bone breaking curse. The Death Eater ducked the reflected curse only to hit the stunner Severus threw at him. Severus glanced around quickly; seeing no immediate threat, he turned and watched the Potter boy begin to sweat and sway as he sustained the flames surrounding the Dark Lord. The black fire hid the Dark Lord from view, but Severus could still hear his screams. Not knowing what else to do, he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder in silent support.

Harry was grateful for the steadying hand as he poured even more power into the flames. Harry shuddered as, finally, the screams died out; he felt Voldemort's power flare briefly then die. He lowered his hands and the flames retreated, revealing nothing more than a pile of grey ash. He drew a shaky breath as he stared at the remains of the creature that had killed his parents and shadowed his entire life. Harry turned to Snape. “Good riddance,” he whispered, and fainted into the man's arms.

Harry awoke one sense at a time. First came the feeling of a hard wooden floor beneath him, then the lingering scent of burning flesh, next someone speaking to him. Opening his eyes to a torch-lit space, Harry felt the speaker hold a vial to his mouth. “Drink, Potter,” said the man. “This will help you regain your strength.” Since regaining his strength seemed a reasonable thing to do, Harry drank the vile-tasting substance. He closed his eyes again; soon he could feel the potion running through his veins and replenishing his energy. As he lay there, flashes of the last hour ran through his mind, causing him to open his eyes once again. This time he recognized who had been speaking to him. “Snape, is he still dead?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, you somehow managed to kill the Dark Lord, and unless someone is capable of reanimating a pile of ash, I think it is safe to say that he will stay that way.” The fact that Snape was able to sound snide even when offering reassurance helped Harry realize that his victory was real after all. Harry sat up and looked around, noting that there were five stunned and bound Death Eaters lying on the floor. He remembered that once again Snape had saved his life. The young man raised his eyes to meet his professor's. “Thanks for saving my life once again, sir,” he whispered.

It was for the first time since the nightmare began that Severus looked into Harry's eyes. This was no boy; something had changed Potter since he had last seen him. “What happened to the Golden Boy, Potter?” Severus was nonplussed when those Avada Kedavra green eyes darkened and turned away.

“He died with Sirius; he wasn't strong enough to do what was needed.” Severus carefully looked over the boy − no, young man − before him, noticing the changes for the first time. Potter was taller, a little broader; his hair had gone from short, disordered and messy to a fall of shoulder-length silk; it even seemed darker, and the ridiculous glasses were gone. The shape of his face seemed different; the stamp of James Potter did not appear as strongly anymore. The biggest change, however, was that the last shred of innocence that Potter had steadfastly held onto, even with all he had seen, was now absent from his eyes. “I see,” said Severus after a while. “Tell me, Potter, what's left now?”

“I don't know,” came the broken whisper. Severus stood from where he had been kneeling by the young man's side. I was correct, he mused. The Potter brat did get interesting. He is no longer Albus' Golden Boy; what changed him so in such a short time? He could prove worth allying with. For now, I will watch him, and see if he lives up to his potential. Now I just need to remember not to bait him. “Mr. Potter, are you feeling up to Apparating? We should not remain here any longer; more Death Eaters could show up at anytime.”

“Where would you suggest we go?” Harry was still feeling sluggish from the strain of killing Voldemort. He was having trouble making decisions right now, and he trusted Snape to get him somewhere safe.

“I believe, Mr. Potter, that we should return to Hogwarts.”

Severus took careful note of the coordinates of the farmhouse; now that the Dark Lord was dead it was possible for the Ministry to send some Aurors to pick up the incapacitated Death Eaters. With one last look around, Severus Snape took hold of Harry Potter's shoulder and Apparated them into Hogsmeade.

The Confrontation

July 1996

Two weary men appeared suddenly in an alley behind the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade village. The younger stumbled as they landed, and the older tightened his grip on the young man's shoulder till he was steady again. Together they walked out of the alley and up the main road towards Hogwarts. Were it not rather late at night and therefore very dark, the inhabitants of Hogsmeade would have been surprised to see Harry Potter and Severus Snape calmly walking side by side.

Severus watched as Potter shuffled along, occasionally stumbling over a rock, and made the decision to postpone the interrogation he knew was coming in favor of another restorative draught for the young man. When they reached the front doors of the castle and walked inside, Potter turned towards the hallway leading to the headmaster's office. “Mr. Potter, the headmaster can wait a moment; follow me.” Severus turned the other way, heading towards his quarters, confident that Potter would follow. The sound of footsteps behind him was the reward of his confidence. When he reached his quarters, the dark-haired man laid his hand on the door and it opened under his touch.

Pointing out the couch, Severus gave Harry a small push in that direction. “Have a seat; I will return momentarily.”

Harry briefly glanced around him and vaguely noticed a sense of comfort emanating from the space around him; he found the couch and gracelessly lowered himself on it. In a short space of time Snape was back and handing him a vial of green liquid. Looking up, Harry raised an eyebrow in question. “It contains a much stronger restorative draught than what I normally carry with me,” explained Severus.

Nodding his understanding, Harry removed the stopper and downed the potion. With a shudder at the taste he handed the vial back to the Potions master and mumbled a thanks. While the draught started working to put back some of the magical energy he had poured into defeating Voldemort, the young man looked around. The room was neat, as he would expect from Snape, but it also was surprisingly warm. That the main color was black was not a shock, but the touches of color, like the red patterned rug, the rich burgundy walls, and hints of silver were unexpected.

Harry looked up when he noticed Snape sit down in the black leather armchair next to the matching couch. “You were not expecting to live though your confrontation with the Dark Lord, were you, Mr. Potter?” That question was also unexpected, but undeniably accurate.

“No, I wasn't,” was the softly spoken reply. “I just wanted it to end. I was sure I could take him with me, but I was expecting to die.”

“Then why do it? Why not wait until you were confident that you would survive such a confrontation?”

The restorative was working now; Harry's brain engaged and he realized who he was talking to. He was confused; Snape seemed to care, and that did not make sense. “Look, Professor, I'm not sure why you care.”

“Ah… the draught is working now.” Snape smirked.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better, but I still don't understand why you're acting nice. I know you don't care if I live or die, not now. Voldemort's dead, I did my duty, so you can go back to being a bastard.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for your sterling evaluation of my character,” was the tightly offered reply. “However, there are several reasons for me to behave in a civil manner towards you. It is possible that I was mistaken in my assessment of your character; your written apology suggests as much. Also, you have just incinerated an extremely powerful wizard, expending a great amount of resources in the process. All of the above are valid reasons to extend you some courtesy.”

Harry looked at Snape, thinking, Shite, this is like second year. And fourth year. Everyone scared of me… I never thought I'd see the day Snape was scared of me. Turning away, he replied. “Oh, I understand; you're afraid of me now. Afraid I'll get pissed and burn you to a crisp, too? Guess I'll have to look forward to people fearing me now.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Potter, I do not fear you; I might anger you, but I do not believe that you would purposely harm me because of that. I do, however, respect power, when it is used well, and I can't discern a better use for your power than the destruction of the Dark Lord. I was offering you that respect by treating you in a courteous manner.” Severus looked over the young man seated before him, noting that his eyes no longer appeared as lifeless as they had been when they first met his; some of the drawn pallid look had also left the boy's face, and color was coming back into it.

“If you would like to take a moment to refresh yourself, the restroom is through that door.” Severus pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room. Once Potter stood and went through it, he took a moment to collect himself and cast a cleaning charm to rid himself of the sweat that had dried on his body.

After a few minutes Potter came back into the room, with hair now damp, and face scrubbed clean. “If you are ready, Mr. Potter, it is time to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Yes sir, I'm ready.” Harry followed Snape back into the hallway and they started towards the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. Harry walked with his head down, lost in thought. I will never understand Snape, I guess. If `mistaken in his assessment of my character' is his acceptance of my apology, why can't he just say that? And how does he just know things, like that there is no more Golden Boy? That I expected to die? Now that I think about it, Snape has always known things like that about me. That is not comforting. Ugh, I've got to talk to Dumbledore; I do not want to relive what happened to Tom. It's Dumbledore's fault; if he had just listened to me, this entire mess could have been avoided. Plus there will be explanations about the power and stuff, ugh. I just want to sleep.

“Sugar Quills.” The sound of Snape speaking the password broke Harry from his thoughts. They rode the stairs up to the office. Once inside, Snape said, “Have a seat. I'll get the Headmaster.” Harry took a comfortable looking arm chair off to the side of the gigantic desk. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind free of thoughts. He could hear voices in the other room, things opening and closing, and finally the inner door opening.

“Harry, my dear boy, what happened?” Harry opened his eyes and took in the sight of Albus Dumbledore in bright blue night robes with moons flashing from new to full and all stages in between.

“Didn't Professor Snape tell you? Tom Riddle is dead.” Harry let his head fall back and closed his eyes again.

“Severus, why don't you start, and Harry can explain when needed.” Harry half listened as Snape recounted the last few hours. When he finished, Dumbledore sat back and seemed deep in thought for several minutes. Suddenly Harry's stomach remembered it had not been full in a long time. “Headmaster, could I have a sandwich, or maybe some tea?” he asked.

“Of course; forgive me, my dear boy. Dobby!” A small excitable elf popped into the room. “Dobby, could you fetch young Harry a sandwich, and bring some tea for all of us?”

Dobby twisted around and, upon spying Harry sitting there, answered, “Oh yes, Dobby be getting Harry Potter, sir, whatever he is wanting.” The little elf popped out; in less than a minute he was back, staggering under a tray filled with sandwiches, cakes, and a large teapot and three cups. “Is there anything else Dobby can be fetching for Harry Potter? Anything?”

Harry shook his head and said, “No thank you, Dobby, this looks wonderful, thanks.”

“Oh you is being welcome, Harry Potter, sir, you just call Dobby if you is needing anything at all.” The little elf popped out of the room for the last time.

Harry leaned forward and prepared his tea, took a plate and loaded it with sandwiches and cakes. Sitting back, he demolished two sandwiches and several of the small cakes before taking a second cup of tea. The older men simply sat and watched with amusement as the teenager plowed through the food as if he would never eat again.

After the necessities of food and drink were taken care of, the expected interrogation began. “Now, Harry, perhaps you could tell me how you defeated Tom?” Although the request was expressed as a question, Harry knew it wasn't by the look in Dumbledore's eyes.

“I burned him with Black Flames,” Harry stated as if it were self-explanatory, which, to him, it was.

“Yes, Harry, that is what Severus said, but Black Flame can only be wielded by a member of the Black family, which you are not.”

He got no further as Harry interrupted, “But, Headmaster, I am a Black.” This simple statement caused the two experienced wizards to sit open-mouthed, blinking for a minute as they struggled to process the statement.

“Harry, how can you be a Black? Your father was James, who was most definitely a Potter, and your mother was Muggle-born, so there would be no Black blood there either. You must be mistaken. Now, please tell me how you made it appear that you used the Black Flame.” Frustration laced every word Dumbledore spoke. From the ire in the headmaster's eyes, Harry got the distinct impression that the very thought that someone had kept such a secret from him was an outrage.

Not to mention, Harry couldn't believe what he heard; it sounded like the headmaster just called him a liar. “Headmaster, I am a Black…”

“Harry, stop this nonsense at once, you are most definitely not a Black,” thundered Dumbledore, but Harry had had enough.

“Bloody hell, if you would let me finish a sentence, I would tell you. It is not nonsense, I am a Black; Sirius and my parents did some kind of blood adoption thing when I was a baby. That made me a Black by blood. According to the information Sirius left me, I inherited all of the Black Magic, and apparently I'm powerful enough to wield it. So, to summarize, I burned Tom Riddle to a cinder using the bloody Black Flame.” By the time he finished, Harry was on his feet, shouting at the headmaster. Snape shot him a calculating look before nodding and turning back to the headmaster.

Severus watched with admiration as Potter defied yet another powerful wizard; the air was crackling with barely suppressed magic as the brat's temper rose. He needs to learn to control that, he mused. Perhaps I could be of assistance. Blood magic… Black and the Potters must have been desperate to stray so far from the light, although the results are impressive. No wonder Albus is unsettled; all his Golden children have been tarnished.

Dumbledore sucked in a deep breath of air. Clearly unnerved by Harry's display of temper, he said, “Harry, please sit down and let us discuss this; I'm sorry I seemed to disbelieve you, this was simply a very unexpected development.”

Dumbledore's tone was conciliatory and he appeared sincere, so Harry sat down and said, “I'm sorry for swearing, and for shouting.”

Dumbledore waved away the apology. “It is of no consequence; you have had a very trying night. Now, can you tell me how you appeared at Voldemort's headquarters?”

“I walked to the park and told Lucius Malfoy who was waiting there to take me to him.” Harry was almost getting used to provoking the looks of astonishment on the headmaster and the Potions master.

The headmaster had more experience with the unexpected, especially from Harry Potter, and recovered first. “Harry, why would you do such a dangerous thing?”

Harry shook his head. “Headmaster, I've been telling you for two weeks that they were planning to kidnap me, but you wouldn't let me leave, so I decided to take away the advantage of surprise and use it against them.”

Again, Snape gave him on of those calculating looks, and then he spoke for the first time, “Where is Mr. Malfoy now, Mr. Potter? You entered the room alone.”

Pulling two wands from his pocket Harry slapped them on the desk. “I stunned him and the other guy with him as soon as we got there; they should still be bound somewhere outside that ugly house.”

Snape nodded and turned to the headmaster. “Albus, perhaps you should have several Aurors head out there; I gave you the coordinates earlier, they should find five more Death Eaters in the throne room along with Mr. Potter's contribution.”

Dumbledore nodded and headed to the fireplace; soon he could be heard describing the events. Meanwhile, Snape stared at Harry, who found it very disconcerting.

“What, have I got mustard on my face or something?” he snarked. “Stop starting at me.”

Well, well, the brat manages to surprise me yet again: overcoming Lucius, defeating the Dark Lord, standing up to Albus… The Golden boy really is dead. This new Potter is interesting; perhaps my assistance won't be rejected because of our past difficulties.

“My apologies, Mr. Potter, I was just adjusting my assessment of you.” Before Harry could ask what the man was talking about, Dumbledore was back. “Now, Harry, we need to discuss you rash actions…” Dumbledore fixed Harry with a look.

Harry was exhausted. I killed Voldemort for him and Dumbledore pats me on the head and treat me like a child. I can't take it anymore. “Headmaster, my rash actions, as you call them, ended the threat of Voldemort. I'm tired, I'd like to find somewhere to sleep tonight, and I want you to stop treating me like a child. What's done is done; at least it's over now.”

“Ah, but Harry, it's not over,” Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry whipped his head around and looked at the headmaster incredulously. “What do you mean, it's not over? Tom's dead, what else is there?” Even Snape looked stunned by the fact that Dumbledore did not think this was the end.

“Harry, do you know what a Horcrux is?” At Harry's negative response Dumbledore continued, “A Horcrux is an object which houses a portion of a person's soul; it is the darkest kind of magical object, because the only way to split a soul is to murder someone in cold blood. Once the soul is split, one part is then placed in an object, and that object becomes a Horcrux.”

“Why would someone want to do such a thing?” Harry was feeling ill with the talk of murders and soul splitting. Was he missing part of his soul? Was it torn in half? Great, another thing to worry about, he growled to himself. Now I'm going to be a monster with only half a soul.

“The type of person that would create a Horcrux is one who is looking for immortality. A Horcrux protects that bit of soul inside it, should something happen to the body holding the other part of the soul.”

Unfortunately, Harry thought he could see where this conversation was going, but he had to ask, “What does this have to do with Voldemort?”

The headmaster looked at him sadly before replying, “Voldemort created at least one Horcrux; I believe that, in fact, he created several. With a Horcrux and the right spells, he could be brought back.” The headmaster rose and began tinkering with one of his silver instruments, tactfully giving the two men time to digest the information.

Harry sat in shock for several minutes trying to process all of the new information flooding his brain. He glanced over at Snape who looked a little green as he rolled up his left sleeve and looked at the Dark Mark; Harry could see that it was still as black as the first time he saw it. Thinking back over the last several months, Harry tried to come to terms with this new threat, just when he thought he was free of the prophecy. Wait, the prophecy… that reminded him of the conversation they had had after Sirius died. Trying to remember what it was that caught his attention, he thought again of the Dark Mark. “Professor, when Voldemort marked you, was it in Parseltongue?”

Snape looked at him, seeming to weigh his words before answering, “Yes; why do you ask, Mr. Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath, unsure as to how this would go over, knowing how prickly the Potions master could be. “I think I can remove it for you, Professor Snape, if you would like?”

This time the only hint of shock came from the slight widening of Snape's eyes. “Mr. Potter, if you believe yourself capable of removing this eyesore from my arm, then please be my guest. I would be pleased to be free of that rabid monster.”

Harry got out of his chair and knelt at the dark-haired man's feet; taking Snape's left arm, he looked at the snake intently. He placed his right hand on the mark and began talking to the snake. “Leave this man, he is no longer a servant to your master. Free him from the mark he no longer wishes to bear.” Harry could feel the mark fighting him but he was determined to win.

Severus could feel Potter's magic surround the Dark Mark, fighting to free him. Sweet Merlin he is powerful, I can almost see the magic. I was correct in my assessment; Potter would make a very worthy ally. Thank Circe I have not alienated him completely, not if he is willing to do this for me. Plans must be made to make him see that allying with me is worth his while, and to prove that I can be loyal, regardless of what the old coot thinks. After several minutes passed Severus felt a burning sensation deep in his forearm; just short of the point when he would be unable to bear it silently, the pain abruptly stopped. He looked down, and for the first time in almost twenty years there was no trace of the brand of a madman disgracing his flesh.

Harry climbed back into his chair, flushed with victory over the mark when he remembered what had been bothering him. “Headmaster, when we talked after the Department of Mysteries, you said you had told me everything; why didn't you tell me about the Horcruxes then?” Harry swore to himself that if Dumbledore said anything about sparing him more pain or in any way treated him like a child, he would leave.

Albus returned to his desk and sat down, afraid what he was about to say would make Harry unhappy. “Oh, my dear boy, how could I have told you then?” lamented the headmaster. “You had just lost your godfather, and I had to lay the burden of the prophecy on your shoulders. I felt it best to wait a while before I told you about the Horcruxes.”

Hanging on to his temper by a rapidly thinning thread, Harry asked, “How long have you known about the Horcruxes?”

“I have suspected for many years, but the proof came in your second year,” Dumbledore stated.

“And how exactly did that happen?” Harry knew this was the last attempt to get the headmaster to be completely honest with him he'd make.

Albus settled back in his chair to explain now that Harry appeared willing to discuss it. “At the end of your second year it became clear that Voldemort had made at least two Horcruxes. The diary that nearly cost Miss Weasley her life was one. Tom would not have been so careless with a piece of his soul as to leave it with Lucius Malfoy if he did not have others.”

Harry felt his anger rising with each word Dumbledore uttered. The headmaster had known for the last four years about the damn Horcruxes and never said a word about them. That bit of information with the realization that his life was still bound to that stupid prophecy pushed Harry to the brink of his endurance. It was clear that the only way Dumbledore was going to give Harry the information he needed was piece by piece. On the headmaster's timetable, not Harry's. Harry peeled his hands off the arms of the chair he'd had in a white-knuckled grip in an attempt to contain his rising resentment. “I've had enough of this shite,” he growled.

“Of course you have, my boy. It's been a horribly trying day for you. I'll just have one of the house-elves make up a room for you. We can continue this when you're feeling more yourself,” Dumbledore said, not realizing his patronizing words were shredding Harry's remaining tolerance.

Harry jumped to his feet, this time feeling no intention of apologizing for shouting or swearing; he planned on doing both. “That's it, old man,” he yelled. “You bloody well told me that you told me everything, but you damn well lied to me and you are still treating me like a child. I haven't been a child in a long time. Sirius emancipated me in his will, so I'm no longer under your control. I'll contact you when I can refrain from hexing you.”

Harry strode forcefully to the door, fully intending to find some place to curl up and sleep till he was tired no longer, but he was brought short by, “Harry I can't let you leave. It's not safe; you can sleep here tonight.” To Harry's ears Dumbledore sounded condescending. He turned and glared at the old man, decided he was too angry to speak, and turned the door knob, only to find that it was locked.

“Let. Me. Out.” By this point Harry was reduced to growling.

“I'm sorry, Harry, but I've instructed the castle to lock the door, and Hogwarts answers only to me.” Albus slowly rounded his desk, walking towards Harry.

When the hair on his arms stood up from the magic in the air, Severus moved quickly to the other side of the office, determined to be as far away as possible when Potter acted on his anger.

“Last chance. Open the door and let me out,” ground out Harry.

Dumbledore shook his head in a sorrowful `no'. With a frustrated growl, Harry reached deep inside himself and ground out, “Open.” The office trembled, the windows rattled, and the door suddenly wrenched off its hinges.

As soon as the door opened, Harry stalked through it and down the stairs. He was out of the castle before Headmaster Dumbledore recovered from his shock. When Dumbledore looked around, his office was in shambles: tables were turned over, the glass from the windows was now on the ground, and the door was now just a broken piece of wood lying on the floor. Severus had left sometime after Harry, but Dumbledore barely noticed, trying desperately to reconcile the boy he thought he knew with the man that had just destroyed his office, for the second time in two months.

Cementing Loyalties

July 1996

Severus Snape stood, face tilted up, in the shower of his rooms at Hogwarts, letting the hot water cascade down him. His mind was occupied with thoughts of what he could do to show Harry Potter that he sincerely wanted an alliance with him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. What do I have to offer Potter? Potions? He doesn't care about them. Defense? I suppose I could help him there, plus I do have contacts that could help even more. But something that is tangible? Something immediate that would ensure he would listen to me? He removed the Mark; he didn't have to do that. He apologized − again, that was unnecessary. He has indicated that he trusts me. That alone is priceless to me. Trust… something Dumbledore and the Dark Lord failed to give me. The Dark Lord even went so far as to put that filthy rat in my home to spy on me…wait, the rat. Wormtail… I would wager that he is still there. Potter hates him; I'll give Potter the chance to clear Black's name. With a plan to be set into motion, Severus hurriedly finished his shower. Exiting the bathroom, he cast a drying charm on his body and quickly dressed.

A few minutes later, Severus Apparated into his home in Spinner's End. Unlocking the front door, he spied the rat he needed, sitting in his chair, drinking his wine. “Remove your flea infested carcass from my chair,” he barked.

Wormtail jumped out of the chair at the cold command. “Snape, where have you been?” Wormtail was stuttering, as he always did in the presence of the tall forbidding man.

Snape eyed him coldly. “That is none of your concern,” he drawled. “Now return my wine to the kitchen.”

When the rat turned his back to obey, Severus stunned him from behind, not sparing another thought for the bottle of elf-made wine that now lay shattered on the floor. Quickly, he bound the much smaller man. Adding a spell to insure he could not transform, Severus levitated the rat down to the basement. Pulling a vial from one of his many pockets, he knelt beside the man and forced his mouth open, pouring the sleeping draught into it, and then rubbing his throat to make him swallow. Satisfied that Wormtail would sleep for the next 48 hours, unless the antidote was administrated, Severus made his way back to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands to remove all traces of the vile creature.

Afterward, Severus returned to the living room, cleaned the spilt wine, and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. He looked down at his favorite chair in disgust; remembering the rat in it, he quickly cast a thorough cleaning charm. Content he had removed any lingering fleas, he sat and tried to think through the next stage of his plan. Now to locate Potter so that I can transfer custody of the rat. Where would he be? I don't know the brat well enough to make a guess, but Albus is sure to be looking for him. I'll just wait and follow the coot to Potter.

Enjoying the warmth blossoming from the scotch, Severus slowly relaxed, thinking back over the last twelve grueling hours. The power the brat showed… Sweet Merlin, I was aware that he had potential, but that level of power is outside of any I have before witnessed. The public will fear him if something is not done to appease them, but that is something I can assist the boy with. At least Potter will not demand servitude. It will be more an alliance of equals, he with the raw power and I with the knowledge. A loud knocking at his front door interrupted his musings. “For Circe's sake, what now?”

Reluctantly leaving his chair, Severus made his way to the door, taking a look out the window. What he saw made the normally austere mouth turn up in a wicked smile. Opening the door to admit his unexpected guests, he carefully blanked his expression. “Narcissa, Bellatrix, what an unexpected, but pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed.

Stepping back to allow them entry, he asked, “Ladies, may I take your cloaks?” The two women handed over their light outer cloaks. Severus bowed lightly and gestured toward the living room. “Please, have a seat.”

Once they walked inside, Severus drew his wand and summarily stunned them both. “No wonder Potter was able to simply walk into the Dark Lord's presence, such arrogance deserves to be taken advantage of.” He laughed aloud wickedly.

Carefully levitating Narcissa onto the couch, he bound Bellatrix and soon had her dosed with sleeping draught, resting uncomfortably next to Wormtail. Deciding the addition of a potentially dangerous Bellatrix Lestrange called for more care, the tall man added several layers of locking charms, and an anti-apparation jinx on the basement.

Walking upstairs from the basement to the living room, Severus couldn't help thinking on this run of luck. Perhaps fate doesn't hate me after all… The plan to help Potter just keeps getting better: first Wormtail, now Bellatrix. Potter hates her just as much as the rat; now I can offer him a chance to clear the mutt's name and to avenge his death. Black must be rolling over in his grave − Severus Snape assisting in returning his name to good graces! Yes, fate does seem to be favoring me today, or perhaps it's just more of Potter's dumb luck.

Severus retook his seat to think over the problem of Narcissa Malfoy. The problem was he liked Narcissa. She had always been kind to him, caring for him occasionally after punishment from the megalomaniac he had formerly served. He also felt a duty to prevent Draco from following in his father's footsteps. Not that he liked the little sycophant, but there was potential in the boy. This little fact, added to admiration of his mother, caused Severus to make an attempt at saving the last free portion of the Malfoy line.

Withdrawing his wand from where it rested in his sleeve, Severus pointed it at the blond woman. A softly spoken `Ennervate' had Narcissa opening her eyes, clearly trying to discover why she was now lying down, when last she recalled she was walking.

“Severus, what happened?” came the almost panicky question.

Severus regarded the woman coolly. “I will endeavor to explain in a moment. Would you care for something to drink?”

“Severus, now is not the time to remember your manners! Where is Bella? Did you stun us?” The blonde woman sounded nearly at her wit's end.

Severus took pity on her and started his explanation. “The Dark Lord is dead, Narcissa. Harry Potter defeated him late last night.”

The women gasped and a hand flew to her mouth. Twice she tried to speak before she managed to gasp out, “Lucius?”

Severus shook his head sadly. “The Aurors have him; he will go back to Azkaban.”

The news did not seem unexpected to the blonde. “Severus, what do we do now?” she cried. “And where is Bella?”

Ignoring her questions, Severus sat back and told the story of the defeat of Voldemort once again; when he reached the end, Narcissa looked stunned. “Potter can wield the Black Flame? That would mean he is the head of the Black family… Oh dear, and he hates us.”

Assured that the woman sitting across from him fully understood the situation she faced, Severus offered his opinion on her best option. “Narcissa, if you leave Potter alone, I believe that he will not come after you. I plan on offering him my assistance; that is why I have captured Bellatrix and Wormtail − I am hoping that will serve to assure him of my sincerity. You need to convince Draco to refrain from engaging Potter in a feud; he would not survive such a confrontation. It would be in your best interest to inform Potter of your neutrality.”

Narcissa nodded, wide-eyed, trying to understand how completely her world had just changed and how to keep her remaining family safe from the Ministry. “Exactly how powerful is the Potter boy?” she asked with trepidation.

By way of answering, Severus rolled back his left sleeve and showed her the now smooth skin. “He removed the Dark Mark, and destroyed Dumbledore's office,” he said gravely. “He is extremely powerful and when word gets out that there is a new head of the Black family and that he will not blindly follow Dumbledore, he will be politically powerful as well.”

This information seemed to shock the blonde even more. “He won't follow Dumbledore?”

As Severus started to reply, a burst of flame in the room distracted them both. A brilliantly red and gold phoenix suddenly appeared with a scroll in his beak. The dark man glared at the bird and took the scroll, and, with a cheerful trill, Fawkes disappeared in another burst of fire.

Quickly reading the note, Severus turned to Narcissa. “I'm sorry, I must go,” he uttered hurriedly. “Let me see you out. Please, think over what I have said.”

In less than a minute, he had a confused and still reeling Narcissa bundled back into her cloak and standing outside the door. After watching as she shook her head and then started walking away, Severus gathered his own outer robes and buttoned them up. After a quick check on his prisoners, he prepared to attend a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

Severus opened the door to No. 12 Grimmauld Place and stepped into chaos. The portrait of Mrs. Black was screaming obscenities at the top of her painted lungs. An exasperated looking Molly Weasley was arguing with three teenagers, the headmaster was sucking a lemon drop, and Tonks was apologizing to a flattened looking Shacklebolt who was picking himself up off the grimy floor. Severus turned his attention to the group arguing: the youngest male Weasley was looking mutinous, the Granger chit determined, and the Weasley girl appeared furious.

From what Severus could discern amongst the shouting, the three teens were demanding to be admitted to the meeting and Mrs. Weasley was denying them that privilege. Deciding to enjoy the show, Severus leaned back against the entryway wall. After a couple minutes, the headmaster finally noticed him, and Severus raised an eyebrow in sardonic amusement.

After five minutes of listening to the argument, the headmaster finally broke it up with a gentle, “Molly, I think we should let them in; perhaps they can help.”

Molly Weasley looked flabbergasted but agreed. While Tonks and Shacklebolt fought the curtains back over Mrs. Black, eventually silencing her, Severus edged around the victorious teens into the kitchen full of loud gossiping Order members. Finding a dark corner, he again leaned against a wall, prepared to, hopefully, discover where the Potter brat was hiding himself. As the last of the stragglers made their way in and found seats, the meeting began.

As the headmaster relayed the circumstances surrounding the temporarily destroyed Voldemort, several Order members shot Severus incredulous glances when his part in the defeat was revealed. Severus glared at them till they turned back to the headmaster.

At the end of the story, the headmaster spoke again, “Ladies and gentlemen, we must find Mr. Potter. When he was in my office, he lost control of his power. He was angry with me and he destroyed my office. He must be found before he endangers himself or others. I fear the amount of destruction that he could cause if he is left unattended. There is also the fact that the Black Magic is dark; I'm afraid it could corrupt him, if it hasn't already.”

This announcement had the whole attending Weasley family, plus Lupin and Tonks on their feet all talking over each other, yelling at the headmaster or just crying in the case of Molly Weasley. All of them were saying the same thing: Harry Potter was not going dark, he wouldn't, and why was he angry? Harry normally handled his power much better than that.

While the others were yelling, disagreeing or in some cases agreeing, Severus made careful note of those who stood up for Potter and those that did not. The information could be useful in the future. All the same, the Potions master found it hard to believe that Dumbledore told his Order that Potter was going dark. Well, this removes any lingering doubts about my decision. Black magic is not dark; it is simply another type of magic that has not been seen in almost eight hundred years. I am curious about what adoption spell Black and the Potters used; it is possible that the spell could be dark if it was used to transfer bloodlines. When Potter learns of the lengths Albus will go to insure his influence over him, needless to say, he won't be a blind follower any longer. With a sigh, he came out of his musings. They are starting plans on how to find Potter. Perhaps I should offer my services for when they locate the boy.

“Headmaster, when the boy is located I would be willing to retrieve him, as I have first hand experience with his new powers, and have survived them twice.”

The headmaster looked over at him and nodded. “Thank you, Severus. You, along with Alastor, will retrieve him once he is found.”

Severus rolled his eyes at the thought of having to spend time with the paranoid ex-Auror, but nodded anyway.

The meeting started to wind down; several people went to speak with the headmaster, while others milled around discussing the fact that their savior was probably the next dark lord. Molly Weasley firmly sent the three youngest attendants upstairs with the admonishment to let them know immediately if they heard from “Dear sweet Harry.” Severus watched them leave; after a few moments had passed and no one was looking in his direction, he followed them up.

Harry rolled over in his rented bed and reached out to the night stand, slapping the top several times looking for his glasses before remembering that he didn't need them anymore. He looked over at the clock and noticed he'd only slept about 5 hours, but he felt much improved. “Must be that stuff Snape gave me,” he muttered to himself.

He ambled into the bathroom, used the loo and took a long hot shower, scrubbing away the last day and trying to ease a few sore muscles. After he finished and dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, he walked over to the desk in the Muggle hotel room and thought of how to word the letter he needed to write. What do I say, hi, survived the Dark Lord; really need to talk to someone about my split soul? Yeah right, that would go over well, would they even understand? I don't think so; how can they? They're still children, they weren't forced to grow up like I was. Sometimes I feel much older than they are; I have for a while now. Ron and Hermione are still doing what the adults tell them, they still believe that Mum and Dad know best. Well I don't have Mum and Dad to turn to, but the one I thought I could just lies to me. Damn Dumbledore and his lies. I may not be a child anymore, but there is a whole world of things I don't know and need to find out about. So who can help? Who has never lied to me? Well, that's a short list. Remus? I don't know about him; he is very loyal to Dumbledore, he might contact him. Tonks, Shacklebolt? I don't know either of them well enough to talk to about this. Drumming his fingers on the desk top, he thought.

Suddenly, Harry slapped himself in the head. Damn, why do I keep forgetting about Snape? He has never lied to me. He has saved my arse time and again; he would understand, I think, but how to contact him? Maybe Ron and Hermione will give him a message for me, plus I really owe it to them to see them. Harry picked up his pen.

With all his thoughts, and hopefully a course of action, settled, Harry quickly wrote his letter and sent it off with the owl he had rented earlier in the day. With nothing to do now but wait till noon he decided to go and have a large breakfast, then maybe some shopping in Muggle London. He really wanted to get rid of all of Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Severus Snape ascended the stairs of headquarters, automatically avoiding the ones that creaked, walking silently down the hallway till he heard the voices he sought. Pausing outside the closed door, he shook his head. The fools didn't even use a silencing charm; anyone could've overheard them.

“What is Snape up to? He's always after Harry for something.” That would be the Weasley boy

“Ron, hush, that's not important right now. Professor Dumbledore's telling everyone Harry is going dark and you're worried about Professor Snape? Honestly, Ron.” And the Granger chit chimes in.

“If you two are going to fight, I'll go find Harry myself.” And the Weasley female.

Having heard enough, Severus opened the door and entered the room. Holding his finger to his lips, he shut the door and added a strong locking charm and then a strong silencing charm, and finally turned to the three confused teens. “You three heard the headmaster's plans to retrieve Mr. Potter,” he began “I can assure you that Mr. Potter has no desire to find himself in the headmaster's company again any time in the near future. That he made clear in the destruction of Albus' office.” The teens simply stared at the Potions Master, confused as to where the conversation was going.

“Why do you care, Snape?” demanded Ron.

“Ron, it's Professor Snape, show some respect,” Hermione nagged.

Severus quickly interjected before two thirds of the trio could start bickering again. “Mr. Weasley, my reasons are my own. However, I am willing to assist you in insuring that Mr. Potter remains free from the headmaster's manipulations. All that I ask in return is that you inform him that I wish to speak with him.”

Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed taken aback by the fact that Professor Snape was willing to help Harry, but as always Ron was suspicious. “Why would you help Harry? You hate him! What kind of trick are you trying to pull?” exclaimed the boy passionately.

Severus glared at the defiant redhead. “Merlin, save us from fools and Gryffindors; not that I notice a difference. Mr. Weasley, I will endeavor to explain this in a way you can understand. Potter did me a favor in removing the Dark Mark from me. I wish to repay it by helping him in his quest for independence.”

Hermione jumped in before Ron could alienate the Professor, knowing Harry needed all the help he could get. “Ron, hush, Professor Snape has helped Harry many times, and you know that. Sir, how can you help?”

Severus let his gaze linger over the three youngsters. When they all nodded their agreement, he began to outline his plan. “I will give you a Portkey that is designed to transport you to a safe-house − my safe-house. No one, not even the headmaster is aware of its existence. I feel certain that Mr. Potter will contact you; at that point the headmaster will send you to see him. While he is distracted, Moody and I are instructed to retrieve him, even against his will.”

Severus paused to make sure they understood the severity of what he was saying. “Before that occurs, you will activate the Portkey; when you arrive, inform Mr. Potter where he is and that I desire to speak with him. I will return here and report that the three of you have disappeared. It should take me less than an hour, at which point I will journey to your location. When you have finished your dramatic and emotional reunion with Mr. Potter, I will supply you with another Portkey to the location of your choice. Are there any questions?” After several minutes of assimilating the information, they all gave their acceptance of the plan. At that point, a plain brown postal owl came through the open window.

“Well, read it, where is Mr. Potter to meet you?” inquired Snape impatiently.

Hermione quickly read the letter before replying, “Noon, at the Leaky Caldron.”

Severus nodded at them, handed Hermione a wide-banded ring with a snake etched into it, and said, “Here is the Portkey; the activation word is Venom.” With that, he removed the charms and left the three remaining in the room wide-eyed and wondering what just happened.

End of the Golden Trio

Potter Disclaimer... "Harry Potter" is a book (and movie, and video game, and toys, and cereal, and towels, and probably condoms) created by J.K. Rowling ("She Who Must Not Go Unnamed"). She holds the copyright. Some rights also belong to Warner Bros. although it beats me as to which ones. I do not own the copyrights, trademarks, or licensing contracts (boy I wish!) to any part.

However, if Snape should suddenly manifest in the flesh inside this wavering question mark we call reality, he shall be mine, Oh Yes, he shall be mine.... that's not just the vodka talking either!

July 1996

Harry sat in a dark corner of the Leaky Caldron, the hood of his cloak hiding his face, head down, eyes alert, waiting for his friends. He had been sitting there for an hour, waiting, nursing the same butterbeer. The young man felt apprehensive; he wanted to see his friends, but at the same time he feared they would reject him, now that he had changed so much. He was also sad at the realization that they had little in common now; between the end of the term and this summer Harry Potter left all traces of his childhood behind.

Shaking off the depressing thoughts, Harry watched as the fireplace flared green and Ron Weasley stumbled out; just a second behind him came Hermione Granger. Smiling sadly at his friends, Harry stood and went to greet them. “Hey guys, over here.”

Hermione whipped around and launched herself at him; right behind her was Ron. Before Harry could adjust to the four arms suddenly around him, he heard Hermione whisper “Venom”, then he felt the familiar tug of a Portkey behind his navel. A minute later, they were in a quiet cottage nowhere near London.

When the Golden Trio winked out of sight, Severus Snape smiled victoriously, knowing his machinations worked out perfectly. Schooling his expression into outrage, he turned towards the grizzled man behind him who was growling, “Where did that lot get a Portkey, and where in the bloody hell did they go?”

Glaring, Severus replied, “I am not a seer, how would I know their current whereabouts?”

Looking around the crowded pub, Severus decided then that he had endured enough of Albus and his pet Auror for the day. “You go inform Albus his `Chosen One' has eluded him once again. I will check Diagon Alley. Perhaps they ended up in that monstrosity the Weasley twins call a store.”

After a pitiful insult and some arguing, Moody agreed and went back through the Floo to report to the headmaster. Assuring himself that the man had left, Severus made his way to the Apparition point and headed to his cottage.

“What the bloody hell was that? Where are we?” Harry was livid; he hated Portkeys, especially when they were unexpected.

“Harry, I'm so sorry, we had to, or else Professor Moody was going to take you back to Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Snape said that you didn't want to see him. He's the one who gave us the Portkey; we're at his safe-house.” Hermione rushed to tell him before he could start yelling.

Harry took a deep breath, then another and nodded his acceptance of the necessity. The raven-haired man looked over his friends. Hermione was the same as ever, bushy-haired and bright eyed. Ron looked like he'd grown some and filled out a little. Smiling at them, Harry said, “Am I ever glad to see you; I'm sorry I couldn't write, but Dumbledore told me to limit my letters to emergencies. So much has happened I don't know where to begin.”

Hermione gave him a hard hug and replied, “It's ok, Harry, take your time, why don't we sit down. Oh, before I forget, Professor Snape said he wanted to speak with you, he should be here in an hour or so.” All three jumped suddenly, surprised by the crack of Apparition from outside the front door.

Harry drew his wand and stepped in front of his friends, watching the door; it opened and in walked Severus Snape. “You aren't supposed to be here yet,” Harry growled. “Tell me why I should believe you are really Professor Snape.”

Severus took in the sight of Potter almost glowing with power and rolled his eyes. “Because, Mr. Potter,” he drawled coolly, “as I informed your little friends, I am the only one who knows the location of this cottage. Add to that the fact that the last time I saw you, you were in the midst of demolishing the headmaster's office, and it should assure you of my identity.”

Harry lowered his wand and replaced it in his pocket, satisfied that the man was really Snape. “Sorry, sir, you weren't supposed to be here for an hour, according to Hermione.”

Snape simply nodded and offered, “Mr. Potter, if you desire, I will wait in the other room while you speak to your friends, but I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with you before you leave.”

“That's ok, sir, you can stay. Maybe you could help me. Some of what I have to say I don't understand myself, and I really wanted to talk to you too, later. About something Dumbledore was talking about yesterday.”

Snape inclined his head in understanding of what Harry was referring to. “Perhaps we should sit; this promises to be a long conversation.” The group arranged themselves in the living room, Ron and Hermione on the loveseat with Harry and Snape in armchairs on either side.

Harry took a minute to decide where to start when Ron interrupted his thoughts. “Harry, why do you want Snape here? Why do you trust him now? Last time we talked you were blaming him for Sirius' death.”

Harry looked at Snape and flinched at the glare Ron was getting. Ron stuck his chin up and squared his shoulders. “Ron, I was wrong, it wasn't Professor Snape's fault,” said Harry hurriedly. “It was mine, and I want him here because I trust him. He saved my life when I was facing Voldemort.”

Ron gave Harry a disbelieving look, but didn't press any further. “Now be quiet a minute while I try to think of where to start.” The room descended into silence while everyone gave the young man an opportunity to gather his thoughts.

“Okay,” Harry began finally, “it all started about a week after I got home from Hogwarts when I got a letter from Sirius. It said the usual: sorry I died, and…” Harry trailed off. “Well, wait, it'll be easier if I just read it to you.” He dug in his pocket and withdrew a tattered and obviously well-read letter. After taking a calming breath, he opened it and began to read:

Hey Kiddo,

Well, if you're reading this, I must be dead. Sorry about that… the dead thing, I mean. I'm writing this just after you lot headed back to Hogwarts after Christmas. Harry, I want to tell you how proud I am of you. I've seen you struggling to do what is right for everyone, and I want to tell you that I for one think you've done a great job. Just don't forget to do what's right for you, too. All right, enough of the mushy stuff; there are actual important things I need to tell you. First, you are my heir, everything I have is yours. I made a will; they have it at Gringotts, stop by as soon as you can. Please take care of Moony for me. Also, since you are not a criminal or currently wanted by the Ministry (I hope), you are the last Black male, which makes you the head of the Black family. Harry, show the world what the Black name should mean, not what it has become. How are you the last Black male? More on that in a minute. Second, included in this letters are emancipation papers. All you have to do is sign and you will be legally an adult. Which means no more Dursleys, and it will also help you with Dumbledore. Why do you need help with Dumbledore? Well, he should have told you that stupid prophecy a long time ago, if you still don't know it, go demand it. Either from him or the Ministry. Trust me on this, Kiddo. On to the hard stuff now, just bear with me, this story is long and hard for me to tell.

When you were a baby and Voldemort started hunting you, we were all worried. Your parents and I spent hours trying to find a way to protect you. We were all racking our brains when I had a brilliant idea. Shut up, Harry, I know what happened to my other brilliant idea. But this one really was genius. It took your father and me two weeks of unrelenting begging to get your mother to do it. What did we do, you ask? Well, it was an old blood adoption spell. Blood magic is considered dark, that's why it took so long for your mother to agree. Once she realized it was not illegal, and wouldn't hurt you, she agreed. The spell was Mei Per Cruor, which means Mine By Blood. Who adopted you? I did; that spell made me just as much your father as James is. Please forgive me for not telling you sooner, but I did not want to take your parents away from you. You are James' son; you just have my blood, too, for what it's worth. As you grow older, some of your features may change a little, but it should not be dramatic. The big benefit is Black Magic.

Black Magic has been in the family for as long as we have recorded history. It has not been seen in about eight hundred years, however, because no one was strong enough to wield it. That's where all the pure-blood shite started. When the magic started dying out, one of my ancestors decided that only pure-blood marriages would be strong enough to bring it back. The family motto used to be `Always Strong', not `Always Pure'. Now, there are three things you need to know about Black Magic. First, Black Flames; they're exactly what they sound like − fire that burns black. It will only burn what you intend it to. You could use it in a room full of babies to kill a bug and the only thing that would feel the heat is the bug. That only comes when you are an adult, so sign the papers, Kiddo. Next, Black Magic allows you to tap into your emotions to cast spells; it relies on emotion and willpower. The strength of feeling and determination towards something will affect all of your magic. You might have already noticed that. Third, wandless magic. Yes, I said wandless. You should be able to do lots of wandless magic. Again it's an adult thing, mostly, unless you're really determined. Kiddo, I know you have Black Magic. You used to summon your bottle when you were hungry; you even summoned Lily once when you were a baby.

Lots of info, I know, and I'm sorry to spring it on you like this. I wish I didn't have to. I plan on telling you it all this summer; that is the deadline I gave Albus for telling you about the prophecy. Harry, I love you, never doubt that. When you sign those papers you will be an adult. If you haven't already, you will come into your full magical potential. Given that you are not through growing, your magic might change you some. Don't worry, it won't hurt. Your magic will just strengthen your body so you can wield all of your tremendous potential. Well, I don't know what else to say, except bye, Kiddo. Sorry as hell I had to die. I wish I could have seen you grow up.

Sirius Black a.k.a Padfoot

P.S. If I died doing something stupid, give Moony 20 galleons, we had a bet.


There was silence when Harry finished reading, for no one seemed to know what to say. Harry folded the letter back up and carefully placed it back in his pocket. Looking around, he could see the others seemed lost in thought. When the silence became almost unbearable, Snape spoke up. “Did you give Lupin his gold?”

Harry looked at him for a second and started laughing almost hysterically. When he could breathe again, he managed, “He did die doing something stupid, didn't he.”

With the silence being sufficiently, broken, Hermione had a question. “Harry, I understand the whole Black Magic thing, and that you used it to defeat You-Know-Who, but what I don't understand is why you did it. Shouldn't you have waited?”

“Waited for what, Hermione? I'd been telling Dumbledore for two weeks that Voldemort was planning to kidnap me. All the old man said was that he had no outside verification, and that it could be a false vision again.” Harry was upset that everyone kept harping on that point.

“But, Harry, how did you know the vision wasn't false?” Hermione was determined to find out.

“I finally figured it out. When it is a real vision, it's like I'm looking out of Voldemort's eyes, and when it's a false vision it's just like I'm there,” Harry explained.

“You really should have waited for Professor Dumbledore. I'm certain he would have brought you to Headquarters if he felt you were in danger.” Hermione stated primly.

Harry took a deep breath; it wouldn't do to yell at Hermione. He tried again to explain. “There were two Death Eaters waiting for me in the park. Their intentions were to kidnap me and hand me over to Voldemort as soon as they got a chance.” Harry was gritting his teeth to refrain from yelling. “Dumbledore was ignoring me. I did what I had to do.”

“I still think that you should have waited. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted you there without a good reason.” Hermione settled into lecture mode. “Honestly, Harry, you always rush into these situations before you think. You need to learn to accept that adults have your best interests at heart and stop breaking so many rules.”

“Okay, but what was with the letters, mate?” Ron broke in before Harry could snap at Hermione. “You drove Mum spare; we all thought you were going to off yourself or something.”

The raven-haired young man couldn't believe that his friend was that dim. “Ron, I'd been having visions of Voldemort plotting against me for two weeks. No protection from the headmaster, I knew that I was on my own. I didn't think I could survive the confrontation, so I wanted to tell my friends and family how I felt about them. In case I didn't get another chance.” Harry slumped in his seat, Hermione was scolding him and Ron was asking stupid questions; the feeling of distance between them grew.

Seeing Potter grow more exasperated with his friends, Severus decided to change the direction of the conversation. “Mr. Potter, it would require an intense emotion for the Black Flame to kill the Dark Lord. May I inquire which one you used?”

Potter looked over at him with something like gratitude in his eyes. “Desperation, Professor,” he said with a sad smile. “Desperation, fear, and a wholehearted wish for him to just go away. I think that was the willpower part.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Yes I seem to recall you voiced the sentiment that you wish he'd, what was it… Oh yes, burn in hell.”

Potter chuckled darkly. “I thought it a fitting place for him.”

Hermione looked discomforted by the morbid humor. “Harry, don't you feel even a little guilty? I mean, you killed another human being.” She fidgeted in her chair before adding, “It seems wrong to sit and laugh about it.”

Harry turned on her with a snarl. “What would you have me do, cry? I've shed all the tears I'm going to because of that monster. Burning in hell is really too good for him.”

Ron jumped to Hermione's defense. “You don't have to yell at Hermione, she's just telling you how she feels. Me, I'm glad you offed the slimy bastard. Just wish I could have been there to see it, mate.”

Harry shook his head sadly; he didn't know how to tell them. Ron still believed that battle was full of glory and Hermione couldn't understand why he didn't feel guilty. But Harry himself… he had to laugh about it; he had no more tears to shed. The realization that he had to kill or be killed and the acceptance of that fact had changed him forever. He could no longer be the child everyone was expecting. Snape had been right − the Golden Boy was dead.

Harry was struggling for the words to explain this when a smooth baritone intruded, “Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, what you fail to understand is that the circumstances in Mr. Potter's life have forced him to grow up. Your understanding is that of a child's; Mr. Potter is endeavoring to explain adult ideas to children. You cannot comprehend it. Possibly when you are an adult you will gain the necessary understanding.”

Harry turned to Snape with gratitude shining in his green eyes. “Thanks, Professor.”

Turning back to his friends, he said, “Guys, I need you just to accept this. This is who I am now; I can't go back, even if I wanted to.”

Harry fought to make them understand what had changed him. “There is a prophecy; it said I either had to kill Voldemort or he would kill me. Dumbledore knew it all along, before the Department of Mysteries. He told me the night Sirius died.”

Hermione nodded encouragingly, and Harry continued, “I've thought about it a lot since then. At first I wanted to ignore the whole thing, but I couldn't. Thinking about it made me realize something about myself: I was willing to kill, at least to kill Voldemort. It wasn't just revenge for my parents or Cedric, but the fact that he had to be stopped and nothing short of death would stop him. The prophecy said I was the only one capable of doing it, so I killed him. Didn't expect to survive it, probably wouldn't have without Professor Snape. He took care of the Death Eaters; otherwise, they would have stopped me.”

Severus noted the boy was doing well trying to explain the difficult concept to his friends. Acknowledging that some things were worth killing and dying for as well as accepting your own mortality − that was the threshold Potter had crossed into adulthood, the threshold his friends could only vaguely sense existed.

Hermione looked at her friend, taking in all the changes. Harry stood a powerful 6'1” now; he had filled out, no longer skin and bones, but lean muscle. The glasses were gone, his hair was much longer, down to his shoulders, and there was a streak of white running through the hair along his right temple.

She finally understood − her friend was a man now. There were fundamental differences in their life experiences that could only be bridged by time. “Oh, Harry, I'm sorry…” she whispered. “It's gone isn't it? Your innocence.”

Harry smiled sadly. “Yes, Hermione.”

Ron just stared. “What are you talking about? Did you get lucky, Harry?”

Harry laughed and turned to Hermione. “You'll explain it to him, right?”

Hermione nodded. “We'll always be here for you, Harry. Let us know if you need anything.”

She looked to Snape and said, “Professor, we're ready to go back now. If you could send us to Diagon Alley, we'll make our way back from there.”

Severus nodded to the Granger chit and preformed the necessary spells on a magazine from the table. “This will take you behind Gringotts; please do not inform anyone that I assisted you. I have no wish to face the inquisition when I next see the headmaster. If asked, perhaps you could tell them Mr. Potter had the Portkey?”

With this he looked to Harry, who nodded his ok. “The activation word is the same.” Severus handed over the magazine.

Harry hugged them both again, taking a moment to wipe away Hermione's tears and to be pounded on the back by Ron who said, “Good job, by the way, getting rid of What's-His-Name.”

When they left he collapsed back in the chair. Exhausted, rubbing his temples to try to relieve the headache that had sprung up in the emotional debate, he didn't notice Snape leave the room. Several moments passed before he heard a gruff, “Here, Mr. Potter, this should relieve your headache.” Harry grunted his thanks and downed the disgusting potion, keeping his eyes closed as he felt his head begin to ease.

Severus watched as some of the tension left the young man's face as the draught took effect. He was curious about several things and hoped Potter would answer him. The Potions master reminded himself to rein in the animosity he had displayed toward the boy in the past; he no longer felt that way, but habit could be difficult to break. When the younger man opened his eyes, Severus asked his first question, “You indicated you wanted to speak with me about the headmaster's revelations. Which issue in particular did you want to discuss?”

Potter seemed to tense up again, but answered, “Is my soul split? Does that mean I'm missing part of it now?”

There could be no easy question first; the brat had to jump in with both feet. “It is my understanding, Mr. Potter,” started Severus carefully, “that when you commit murder your soul does, in fact, split, but it does not leave you without a spell to commit it to an object, a Horcrux. So yes, your soul is split, but do not dwell on it, human souls are resilient things. It will repair itself in due time, and you can hasten the process by refraining from killing anyone else. There should be no lasting consequence if that is your fear.”

Potter looked relieved by this. “Thank you, Professor, I didn't fancy living with half a soul. Or being anything like Voldemort.”

The boy − no, young man − fell silent.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus said after several minutes of silence, “I have a proposition for you, and I would like for you to hear me out before making your decision.”

At Potter's softly spoken ok, Severus continued, “The public is soon to be aware of the Dark Lord's downfall; this will give you political power, along with the Potter and Black names. If carefully done, you could have great influence over public matters, and I know certain people I believe will be willing to assist you with that. In addition, now that I am no longer needed to spy, I fear that my days of freedom could be limited, for Fudge has never been a supporter of mine. In exchange for your public support of me, I would be willing to help you in your education. You do not seem eager to put yourself back into Dumbledore's sphere of influence; indeed, you have shown that you desire to be independent.”

“I would take you as my apprentice; I could have you prepared for your N.E.W.T's by the new year. I have a Mastery in Defense; I would be willing to assist you towards that as well, if that is your desire. I am aware of the need to eradicate the Horcruxes, but you need more education to do that as well as to live the remainder of your life. I ask nothing of you if it is not of your free will; I am simply offering you my assistance… an alliance, if you will.” Severus sat back and waited for Potter's questions. The brat was sure to have questions, he always did.

Harry was trying franticly to comprehend why Snape, of all people, was offering him so much. “Please, Professor, give me a minute. This was most unexpected.”

When Snape nodded, Harry stood and began pacing; he always thought best while moving. Why is he offering me this? Is it something I want? Can I deal with Snape for an extended period of time? Well I do need to get my N.E.W.T's, and it would be nice to finish so early, but how can being Snape's apprentice keep Dumbledore away from me? Only Snape can answer; hopefully he'll remain decent and not turn back into a bastard.

Severus watched as the young man paced in front of the fireplace; he understood the need for time. The offer had been unexpected to him also when he first thought of it, but, the longer he thought, the more he was sure that it was the right decision. Now if the brat will just accept it.

“Professor...” Severus lifted his hand, cutting Potter off. “Please, I'm not your professor right now, and I don't like to hear the title in my home, so you may address me as Severus.”

The boy blinked twice. “Ok, Severus, but only if you'll call me Harry. I'm tired of hearing `Mr. Potter.'”

Severus nodded and Potter continued, “Severus, why are you offering this to me? I thought you didn't even like me, but now you're proposing to spend a great deal of time in my company.”

The Potions master sighed. It was a fair question; he had hoped, however, that the boy wouldn't ask it. He hated to admit he was wrong. “Harry, I was mistaken in my assessment of your character. You have shown that you have an enormous amount of potential, and I would like the opportunity to help you shape that potential. I am certain that without the misassumptions we can rub along tolerably well. We certainly seem to be doing so now.”

Harry could only agree. Severus wasn't being a bastard and so he didn't feel the need to yell, but he had to ask anyway. “You will continue to treat me this way? I'm not asking you to change, I can deal with your insults, but I can't agree if you go back to treating me like I was something you scraped off your shoe.”

Severus nodded. “Yes. I will make no promises that I'm unable to keep, but as you seem to understand that sarcasm and insults are part of who I am, I agree to cease the hostility.”

The younger man went on to his next question. “How can being your apprentice keep Dumbledore from trying to control me?”

“How much do you know about the apprentice system?” Severus doubted the boy knew much, but asked anyway.

“Not very much, just that someone with a Mastery can take an apprentice and that they train them in their field of expertise. The terms are secret and the mentorship can last up to six years.”

Severus raised an eyebrow; the boy knew more than he had believed. “You are correct. The terms are kept secret unless the apprentice accuses the Master of violating said terms. Also, the Master has control of who the apprentice studies under; it could be themselves or someone they appoint. I would suggest as one of the terms that the headmaster is never under any circumstances to instruct you. In addition, the Master is required to provide lodgings acceptable to both Master and apprentice. I have an extra room in my quarters which you would be welcome to. Hogwarts has rules that if a teacher has a Mastery, and I have two, then they are allowed an apprentice of their choice. The headmaster would have no say in it. You could be at Hogwarts with your friends for a time longer. Furthermore, I have some people I would like to introduce you to. I believe that they would be of great value to you in gaining a political toehold, and assuring the public you are not dark; they will also help you further your training.”

It seemed the brat was going to accept, but Severus wanted to be sure, so he played his last card, “Harry, to show you that I am sincere, and that you can trust me, I have Wormtail and Bellatrix Lestrange locked in my basement at Spinner's End. They are yours to do with as you like.”

The young man collapsed in his chair, his brain fighting to understand that Severus just offered him two of the people he hated most, to do what he wanted with. “And if I wish to kill them?”

Severus graced him with an evil smile. “I'll hold your cloak. However, I recommend that you give them over to the Ministry. They should be an impressive bargaining chip.”

Harry couldn't help but smile at the man. Until yesterday he would have never believed he could share such a joke with Snape. “Very well, Severus, I accept all that you have offered.”

New Alliance

J.K. Rowling is the genius behind Harry Potter. We are greatly indebted to her for providing us with hours, days, months, even years of entertainment. We thank her from the bottom of our hearts for creating characters and locales which enable our imaginations to run wild.

July 1996

The day's events were catching up with Harry; he hoped things calmed down a little, because he didn't know how much more he could handle today. “Severus, do you have any food here? I haven't eaten since breakfast and it's after two now.” Harry's stomach was reminding him that he was only fifteen, for another day, and that teenage boys were always hungry.

“There are basics in the kitchen, but wait a moment. I want to contact my associates I was telling you about, it is possible they are available now. They are always willing to feed strays.” Harry nodded his agreement, and Severus went to the fireplace. Throwing in a handful of Floo powder, he called out, “Sinister Place,” and lowered his head into the fire.

Harry had never seen his professor in such an undignified pose and had to choke back the laughter it inspired. After a few minutes Severus removed his head from the fire and gracefully rose to his feet. “They will not be available for a few hours,” he stated. “Go ahead and prepare yourself some lunch; I am going to rest here for a while. It has been a long day.”

Harry went into the kitchen. Pleased with how clean and well organized it was, he investigated the pantry and found pasta, as well as some vegetables and chicken. Satisfied he had the makings of a good lunch he set to preparing it. While the pasta was boiling he cooked the veggies and chicken and made a light sauce for them. He hardly noticed an hour passing. Having found the tea things he made a pot of oolong tea as well.

He set the meal on the table and turned to the living room, only to find Severus asleep in the arm chair he occupied earlier. Knowing better than to touch a sleeping Snape (who knew what someone that paranoid would hex you with), he took a moment to observe the older man unnoticed.

Severus looked little different when asleep, Harry noted. Maybe less intimidating with those black eyes closed. Coming closer, Harry looked at him for the first time as an adult and not the child he had been. Snape was still not a handsome man, he decided, but he was not the caricature of an ugly one Harry had believed him to be as a child of eleven. His nose was too big and it was hooked, but his hair wasn't really greasy, it just looked oily, like it needed to be washed every day and Severus didn't take the time. His skin was not sallow, just pale; the dungeon lighting of Hogwarts was not flattering to him. Harry concluded that while he was not handsome, the man was interesting looking. His snarky personality was apparent even in his sleep, sharp as ever.

“Severus, wake up, come on, wake up,” crooned Harry softly, but, to his dismay, got no response.

He moved a little closer, hoping he was out of arm's reach. “Come on, wake up, Severus,” he repeated.

A long fingered hand shot out and grabbed his wrist as Severus opened his eyes. “I heard you the first time, Potter,” he grumbled. “Why did you wake me?”

Harry shook off the hand. “I thought you might be hungry, and I fixed enough for two.” Harry returned to the kitchen and sat at the table and served himself. He heard water running in the loo and a moment later Severus entered the kitchen.

Looking at the food, the older man raised an eyebrow. “I was expecting sandwiches,” he drawled. “I was unaware you were capable of cooking.” Harry shrugged and went back to eating.

Severus filled his plate. At the first bite, he could not hide his surprise. “Potter, if you can cook like this, why are you such a failure at Potions?” he inquired incredulously.

Harry shrugged again but answered, “I don't understand the instructions. I've never used a recipe when cooking; I just work on the dish till it looks right or smells right. I can do a potion perfectly the second time, but in class we never brew the same potion twice. I got an Outstanding on my O.W.L.'s.”

Severus was again surprised. “Very well, we can work on that, it seems you need a different type of instruction. I teach Potions the recipe way in class because that is how the majority of people brew. We will discover where you are in all of your subjects later.”

The two men finished their late lunch in a comfortable silence. Harry poured another cup of tea. Upon seeing that Severus was done, he decided to ask the question he had been pondering while cooking. “Who are these people that you want me to meet?”

Severus looked at him over his own tea. “They are a group I have worked with, friends of mine. They are not loyal to Dumbledore, but they oppose the Dark Lord.”

The reply was tight, and Harry wondered what he said wrong; then the closed look in Snape's eye gave him his answer. “Severus, I do trust you,” he said softly. “I was just curious about them. Haven't you figured out by now that I'm an incurably nosy brat?”

Severus was having a difficult time believing what he was hearing. Potter kept saying he trusted him, but trust was not something he was accustomed to receiving; no one ever trusted the spy. “Harry, I am curious,” he started carefully, “several times today you have indicated that you trust me. Why? Dumbledore doesn't, not completely; the Dark Lord did not, and he had good reason not to. Why for Merlin's sake would you trust me? No one ever trusts the spy.”

Harry looked into the black eyes before him, wanting Severus to see that he really did trust him, and replied, “I've seen you kneel before Voldemort and lie beautifully, that much is true… but other than that I believe you are an honest man. Occasionally cruel and spiteful, but honest. Of everyone in the wizarding world you are the only one who has remained consistent in your behavior towards me. No matter what new, weird thing you discovered me capable of doing, you never changed. Even the horrible things you said about my father − you were right, maybe not a hundred percent right, but then you only knew one side of him and on that side he was a git. All that I ask is that you are honest with me. If I do something wrong, tell me. If I make you angry, which I'm sure to do, say so. Do that and I'll do the same with you; if we both are honest with each other, the rest we can work out later.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your faith, and I will endeavor to always be honest in my dealings with you.”

Seeming to be aware that he was acting out of character and had perhaps shown more than he wanted to, he concluded with, “Now, brat, clean up your mess. I will meet you in the other room and enlighten you further about the group we are soon to meet.” With that he swept from the room in his trademark swirl of robes. Harry laughed and did as he was told.

After liberating some biscuits he found in the pantry, Harry brought them and another pot of tea to the living room. Making himself comfortable on the loveseat, he offered tea to Severus. When they were both settled, the young man turned to his companion and asked, “Okay, now about this group?”

Severus sneered for form's sake. “It consists of six people. They call themselves cousins, but they are not related by blood. They oppose the Death Eaters' agenda, and they are all powerful men in their own right; however, together, they are a law unto themselves. They call themselves the Bar Sinister; they can assist you with all I have proposed, if they decide that you are worthy.”

Harry sat quietly listening to Severus speak about people without criticizing them for once. Amazingly, it sounded as if Snape liked this Bar Sinister. “They are reclusive,” Snape went on, “even more so than I am, and very secretive. I doubt that the general public knows who they are, or that they even exist. They have renamed themselves, and they use no last name. I was introduced to them while I was researching the Dark Arts as a young man. One of them is named Luc, and I should warn you, it is believed that he and Lucius Malfoy are brothers, but their beliefs are nothing alike.” Severus paused to take a sip of his tea, then continued, “Luc is an expert in the Dark Arts, so, naturally, we met and began a friendship. I was duly introduced to the rest of the Bar and we formed a sort of a loose alliance. We assist each other when we are able.”

Severus paused for a moment, pondering how much to tell Potter about his association with the Bar. Given what the brat has seen I may as well tell him everything, he thought. Severus spoke again. “I offer my expertise in Potions when they are needed, as well as pass along information I obtained during my duties to Albus.”

He stopped speaking and stared into his teacup. Harry was only a little surprised that Snape had worked with more than Dumbledore. Seeing Snape seemed to expect some type of response, Harry asked, “What did they do with the information?”

Severus lifted his eyes to meet Potter's; seeing nothing beyond curiosity, he hid a relieved sigh and answered, “The Bar does not hold the same moral code as the headmaster and the Order. They have no compunction against removing a threat in the most efficient way possible. The Bar has on several occasions removed a Death Eater that could have compromised me.”

Two months ago that answer might have bothered Harry, but now he could see the necessity of it. Guessing that Snape was worried that he would balk at associating with his friends because they were more ruthless than Dumbledore he turned the conversation back to the Bar. “Ok, I can see where they would be helpful in that regards, but what else do they do?”

Glad that his assessment of Potter's newfound maturity had been accurate, Severus continued with his description. “They are adept at manipulating public opinion when they choose to, and they have a strong grasp on who to talk to in the Ministry. In addition, Fudge fears them.” The last was said with a wicked smile.

The fireplace flared green suddenly and a head appeared. “Well, well, Severus,” it drawled, “have you been picking Dumbledore's pocket? Is this the young man you wanted us to meet? Harry Potter, isn't it? Vane was wrong, it seems… This is not going to be a waste of our time.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Luc, do restrain your lackluster wit, there is time enough for Harry to realize that you are a simpleton. Is your irredeemable group of cousins ready for us now?”

The man in the fire grinned. “Yes, Severus. Whenever you and Mr. Potter are prepared to grace us with your presence, we await you, oh great one.” With the sarcastic reply still hanging in the room the man's head was gone. Harry was glad Severus had warned him about the Malfoy connection, for there was a definite resemblance between Luc and Malfoy Sr.

“Well, Mr. Potter, are you ready?”

When Harry nodded, the Potions master handed him some Floo powder and said, “The destination is called Sinister Place. I'll go ahead; follow me when you will.” The older man tossed the powder into the fire and stepped through after calling out his destination.

Harry took a deep breath; he was nervous about meeting new people, and he hated traveling by Floo powder. He steeled his nerves and tossed in the glittering substance. “Sinister Place,” he yelled, stepping into the green flames. Soon he was twisting past grates, until finally he tumbled unceremoniously out onto a marble floor.

“Such grace, Mr. Potter; one would think that the hero of the wizarding world would at least be able to land on his feet,” drawled a voice.

Harry pulled himself up and glared at the blond, Luc was his name. “I hate traveling by Floo,” was Harry's only response.

The young man used the moment to take in his surroundings; they were standing in an entryway to what appeared to be a large home, complete with marble floors and richly appointed walls. It was not cold, but did show power. Soon, Severus called him over, saying, “We will meet with them now. Follow me.” They walked down a hallway into a formal living room; in it were five men.

“Harry,” said Severus stiffly, “may I introduce the Bar Sinister.”

Harry gave all the men in the room a quick glance before saying, “It's nice to meet you.”

A tall dark-haired man with the palest green eyes he'd ever seen spoke, “Mr. Potter, please have a seat and I'll introduce you to my cousins.” His voice was deep, and as cold as the eyes.

Harry took a seat in a straight-backed chair nearest Severus.

The man spoke again, pointing at Luc, “I believe you have meet Luc, he is our Dark Arts expert.” Luc nodded. “Mr. Potter,” he said smoothly. Harry wasn't sure if he liked Luc's snide comments, because he simply couldn't tell if they were good natured or not. Luc had the silver Malfoy eyes, but they were warm, not cold like the other sets Harry had seen.

Before Harry could speak, the man went on, this time pointing out the man with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. “This is Vane, he is our Dueling Master.” Vane offered a nod of his head. He was conservatively dressed and had a reserved air about him.

“Spencer − he specializes in finance.” A man with light brown hair and amber eyes offered a gruff `Mr. Potter.' Harry could tell this man would be a formidable opponent. He was powerfully built, but there was no malice in his eyes.

Pointing out the only other blonde − this one a dirty blonde, not the almost white of Luc, − the man continued, “Sebastian here, he sees to the details.” Unsure of what that meant, Harry simply nodded at the softly offered, “Pleasure to meet you.” Sebastian was sprawled in his chair, seemingly content not to move more than his mouth. His chocolate brown eyes showed an easy humor. Harry thought that if his hair had been loose instead of pulled back Sebastian could have passed for a woman.

The man then turned to a leather-clad young man with black hair which looked as if unbound it would reach mid-back. The young man's piercing blue eyes held Harry's. “And Gabriel, our protector.” Harry again didn't know what to say, and thus kept silent. Harry wasn't sure what to make of Gabriel. The man was twirling a dagger with one hand, which, combined with his intense stare, made Harry look closer. The air around the other man was thick with controlled danger; however, the wink his scrutiny earned him relieved Harry.

Realizing that the only person in the room whose name he didn't know was the man who had been speaking, Harry turned to him. “Excuse me, sir, but who are you?”

The dark-haired man's smile was not reassuring. “I'm the leader of the Bar Sinister,” he said. “And you may call me Devlin.”

Harry offered his own greeting, “Nice to meet you, Devlin.”

At Harry's polite greeting Devlin spoke again, “Mr. Potter, perhaps you would enjoy a tour of Sinister Place. Gabriel would be pleased to escort you.”

Harry agreed, curious to see more of the beautiful manor. Gabriel stood. “Come with me, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Tell me, do you like swords?” The two young men left the room talking of weapons.

Devlin turned to Severus. “Now Severus, tell us about Mr. Potter, now that he is no longer under Dumbledore's influence. How did you do that, by the way?”

“I had nothing to do with it. Harry decided on his own to remove himself from Dumbledore's side; apparently the old man had been lying to him for some time now. I brought Mr. Potter here because I'm taking him as my apprentice, and would like the Bar's assistance with the training.” As Severus spoke, Devlin took his seat and leaned back, prepared to hear him out.

Vane spoke up, “Why would you take him as an apprentice? Last I heard you couldn't stand the brat.”

Severus rolled up his left sleeve. “The brat killed the Dark Lord, removed his Mark from my arm and then overpowered Albus Dumbledore's control of Hogwarts, by forcing a door that the headmaster ordered locked to open; the door was smoldering when he finished. That brat has more power than I have ever witnessed, plus he can wield Black Magic.” The remaining members of the Bar sat in shock at the Potions master's words.

After several moments of silence, Luc asked, “How can he wield Black Magic? He's not a Black.”

Severus snorted. “Mei Per Cruor,” was all he said.

Luc's eyes widened. Sebastian spoke for the rest when he asked, “What is that?” Luc seemed more confident when saying, “Mine By Blood, it's an old adoption spell based on blood magic; it hasn't been used in centuries. It was used for alliances between warring families; it gives the child the blood and all blood gifts of two fathers.” He turned to Severus. “The Potter boy is really strong enough to use Black Magic? All of it?”

Severus settled back in his chair, enjoying unsettling these usually unflappable men. “Yes, I witnessed it; he incinerated the Dark Lord with the Black Flame. The child has potential, what he needs is knowledge, which is why I'm taking him in. That, and Albus is attempting to control him. I'm taking him as my apprentice to keep him out of the old coot's reach. Black emancipated him, but all the protection he can get will help.”

After the men had processed the information for a few minutes, Severus added, “I seek the assistance of the Bar Sinister in the matter of securing the future of Harry Potter, assistance in the form of political leverage, before they make him out to be dark, and assistance in preparing for his formal education and in training towards his Mastery in whichever subjects he should so choose.”

Vane spoke for the group, “You will have to let Devlin vet him. Will he pass?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Vane looked wary. “Are you sure? None have lately. Actually, you're the last one that did.”

Severus nodded. “The brat is up to the task.”

Devlin finally spoke again, “Spencer, go fetch the boy, we will see what he is made of.”

While they were waiting for those absent to join them, Devlin rang a bell, and ordered drinks for them all from the house-elf that answered. Harry, Gabriel, and Spencer rejoined the group and were served drinks as well. When everyone was seated, Devlin turned to Harry. “So, Mr. Potter, what makes you worthy of asking assistance from the Bar Sinister?”

Harry was nonplussed at this; he looked to Severus but the man simply raised an eyebrow; he was on his own then. “Worthy?” he questioned. “I don't understand where that comes into this… Severus said that it was possible that you would be willing to assist me. I know that there are a lot of things I need to learn. I would appreciate any assistance you could give me.”

Devlin nodded and drawled condescendingly, “And what, Mr. Potter, would we gain from assisting you?”

Harry glared at him. He didn't mind the question but the tone of voice was exceedingly rude. The young man did his best impersonation of his Potions master, “You mean aside from my undying gratitude? If you prove worthy of it, I would offer my political power, which I have heard has the potential to be enormous. Add to this that I would be willing to offer whatever assistance I am able to your opposition of the remaining Death Eaters, and that I do plan on making sure all of Voldemort's Horcruxes are destroyed.”

At the mention of Horcruxes all six members of the Bar Sinister started talking at once. Harry stared, bewildered, as the formerly collected men all turned on Severus, demanding to know what the boy was talking about.

As soon as the brat mentioned the Horcruxes Severus flinched. He had not told the Bar about those yet, and with all six of them yelling Severus couldn't hear himself think. “Silence,” he barked.

The tone of voice that so easily shut up a classroom of eleven-year-olds worked just as well on this group. “I did not have time to mention this earlier,” explained Severus. “Yesterday, before the destruction of his office, Albus told Harry and me that he believed the Dark Lord had created several Horcruxes; I do not have further details at this time. The fact that the old man had withheld this information from him is the cause of Harry's dissatisfaction with Dumbledore, and resulted in the headmaster needing new office furniture.” The answer satisfied the group and everyone returned to their drinks.

Devlin turned back to Harry. “Mr. Potter, do you have any questions about the Bar Sinister?”

Harry had several but decided to start with, “What does Bar Sinister mean?”

Devlin took a sip of his drink. “Hmmm. Mr. Potter, do you know anything of heraldic terms?”

When Harry shook his head, the man continued, “I thought not. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what did you think of our home?”

Harry really didn't see what that had to do with his question but offered, “It's very nice, sir.”

Devlin poured himself another drink. “Did you enjoy the tapestries?”

Harry was feeling very lost now. “They were very attractive, sir, but what does that have to do with my question?”

The dark-haired man took another sip. “What question was that?”

The young man was beginning to get annoyed; Devlin was toying with him and he didn't like it. “What does Bar Sinister mean?” he repeated.

Devlin looked at him over his glass. “Oh, that question.” He turned to his cousin. “Vane, did you talk to that man about the new tapestries yet?”

Harry had had enough. He didn't care what kind of assistance they could offer if they couldn't treat him with respect. “If you didn't want to answer my question,” he growled, “then just say so, you don't have to be such a bloody great arse about it.”

Devlin turned those pale green eyes on him; one dark eyebrow went up in challenge. “What did you call me, Mr. Potter?”

Harry turned his own killing curse green eyes on Devlin. He had faced down Voldemort; nothing less would intimidate him now. “I said you're a bloody great arse, you bastard.”

The room was silent as two pairs of green eyes were locked in challenge. Finally, the owner of the pale ones drawled coldly, “Mr. Potter, you are in possession of an insolent mouth along with the most defiant eyes of any person I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“And that's my problem how?” snapped Harry. He ignored the indrawn breaths around him, intent on not backing down from the arse before him.

Devlin's eyes had an unholy gleam in them when he responded, “It is your problem, as you put it, because I do not accept insolence from those I consider my inferiors.”

Harry stood; he wasn't going to associate with such an irritating man. “That's more than enough. You can take your superior attitude and shove it straight up your condescending arse.” He turned to Snape, saying, “Sorry it didn't work out with your friends. I'm still up for the apprentice thing if you're willing.”

The entire room was locked in an anticipatory silence as Severus looked over at Devlin; the two men seemed to hold a silent communication. Severus inclined his head and turned to Potter. “Potter, sit back down. The Bar finds it necessary to test potential allies to ensure that they are able to cope with such a demanding group.”

Devlin spoke again in that cold voice, “And you, Mr. Potter, have exceeded my expectations. Who would have thought that a sixteen year old child would have the gall to challenge me? Much less to insult me to my face.”

Still confused, Harry dropped to his seat, and his gaze traveled over the room. All the members of the Bar were giving him approving looks, and Gabriel winked at him again. Deciding to trust Snape and give the Bar one more chance, Harry said with a sigh, “I'm not a child. So will you tell me what the Bar Sinister stand for?”

The voice was no longer cold when Devlin explained, “The Bar Sinister in heraldic terms signifies bastardy, which is what we all are, the illegitimate children of Death Eaters.”

Harry nodded once. “Sir, I think you should call me Harry if we're going to be trading insults on a regular basis.”

Devlin smiled his agreement. “Harry, the Bar Sinister would be delighted to offer you an alliance.” He extended his hand to the younger man, and after a moment's hesitation Harry took it.

Thus began the alliance of Harry Potter and the Bar Sinister.

The Political Battlefield

July 1996

The group moved to a well-appointed study, where there were discussions, arguments, and plans involving what needed to be done first. Spencer was arguing the necessity of securing Harry's accounts with Sebastian, while Devlin and Vane were planning the best way to storm the Ministry. Severus and Luc were having a discussion about how much to reveal about Harry's being a Black.

Harry and Gabriel were sitting in chairs next to the fire chatting about nothing in particular. Out of all the members of the Bar, Harry had spent the most time with Gabriel; he was the youngest of them at 25, so Harry felt fairly comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to ask, “Gabriel, what did Devlin mean about you being the bastard children of Death Eaters?”

Gabriel raised his piercing blue eyes. “Just what he said; all of us, the Bar, we're the illegitimate children of Death Eaters.”

Seeing the confused look in Harry's eyes, Gabriel explained further. “It was some idea from the first war, Voldemort had his senior Death Eaters seduce supposed blood traitors; he wanted to breed his own army. We are the result. Luc is the only one of us with a good idea of who his father is, and only because the Malfoy genes show clearly in him.”

“What about your mothers?” Harry asked.

“We were all raised in the same orphanage; our mothers couldn't stand the thought of us,” Gabriel said easily, and Harry sensed this was something the group had long come to terms with.

While the two younger men were talking, Luc and Severus approached. Luc took the lead by saying, “Harry, you need to present a strong front tomorrow at the Ministry, and you can't do that dressed as you are now. Do you have dress robes?”

It took Harry a moment to switch gears. “No, I outgrew the ones I had,” he managed finally. Luc looked him over before saying, “I don't think any of ours will work for you, the closest to you in size is Sebastian, and his coloring is too dissimilar to yours. We'll have to call in a tailor.”

Harry looked at the elegant man and said sarcastically, “I thought you were the Dark Arts expert, not my personal shopper.” This remark caused Snape and Gabriel to erupt into peals of laughter.

Luc turned to glare at Severus. “Oh be quiet, Severus. Honestly, you both are in dire need of someone to take your wardrobes in hand. Severus, you dress like a crow, and Harry looks like a beggar. I'm Floo calling the tailor and you two ill-dressed louts can kiss my arse.”

Luc strode, offended, from the room, and Severus turned to the bemused young man. “Harry, Luc is also well versed in pure-blood tradition, as it often goes hand in hand with some of the Dark Arts. You would do well to put your wardrobe in his hands.”

Chagrined, Harry said, “I'll apologize, but I was talking to Gabriel about something serious and it seemed a frivolous interruption.”

Gabriel struggled to contain his laughter but managed to gasp out, “Don't apologize, the git deserved it. I've been telling him the same thing for ages now. Besides, around here you have to give as good as you get or you'll be eaten alive. We're all a sarcastic bunch of bastards, that's why Severus fits in so well.”

Luc returned from making his Floo call, stating the tailor would be by in a little while, so the group convened around the dinner table. As they were enjoying a roast with all the trimmings and good wine, the talk turned to what needed to be accomplished in the morning. Vane started, “Harry, we're all going with you tomorrow as a show of strength. We'll take Lestrange and Pettigrew in with us and march them in the middle of us all, take them up to the Fudge's office and demand a meeting right then.”

At the mention of Fudge, Devlin snorted. Harry turned to him. “Don't like Fudge much?”

Devlin rolled his eyes and drawled, “I despise the mewling little sycophant. He's not fit to run an owl post, much less the Ministry.” Everyone laughed; that summed up the Minister well.

Vane shook off his laughter and continued, “At some point word will get to Dumbledore. Hopefully we will be in the Minister's office by then, but we'll get to that in a minute. First, you want to demand that they clear your godfather's name, trials for the nasty duo next. You getting all this?”

Harry nodded. “See mewling sycophant, make him do what already should have been done, avenge Sirius, check,” he said facetiously. This set off a new round of laughter; the young man was fitting in well.

“Okay, when that's done, make sure that the Ministry is not going after Severus. If we can get to that point before Dumbledore interrupts, we should be home free.” Vane took a sip of wine to moisten his throat.

“There will be no reason for him to get control of you; you are legally an adult and Severus' apprentice.” Vane looked at Harry to make sure he understood. Satisfied that the younger man was keeping up, he continued, “This is where we needed your input. As the head of two old families, Black and Potter, you have two seats in the Wizengamot. Do you want to take them up, or would you like to appoint advocates? Before you answer, let me tell you what it entails.”

Harry sat in shock as Vane explained the responsibilities of the seats; he had had no idea about seats on the Wizengamot. Why had he not been told this?

Severus saw the glazed look in the young man's eyes and stopped Vane with a raised hand. “Harry, did you not know about the seats?”

The young man slowly shook his head. “No clue, it was never mentioned. When you were talking about political power I just thought you meant my name would carry weight, not that I had an actual say in the government.”

“Another oversight on Dumbledore's part,” Devlin growled. “You should have been preparing for this since you were eleven.”

Harry couldn't help but agree. “Vane, who would be the advocates? I don't know nearly enough about wizarding government to do it now.”

Vane looked to Devlin who said, “Harry, Vane and I would be honored if you allowed us to be your advocates.”

Wanting Harry to understand what they were offering, Vane explained, “We can't cast votes without your permission. It would be our job to explain to you the laws and regulations up for consideration. We would also vet anyone who approached looking for support.”

Harry was relieved, that sounded ideal to him. “Thanks, that would be brilliant,” he rushed to say.

Spencer looked down the table and asked, “So, Harry, I guess you don't know about the Black and Potter vaults and properties either.”

The young man just dropped his head to the table and banged it a couple of times until Severus took pity on him. “Come, Harry,” he said soothingly, “let's go for a walk. It will clear your head.”

After a walk around the gardens with Severus who demanded nothing from him, nor sprung any more surprises on him, Harry felt much more in control. Soon, Luc called them in, saying the tailor was here, and the young man allowed the blond to drag him into the study where Luc and the short little tailor poked, measured and talked about him as if he wasn't there at all. When they finished the tailor promised to have the robes ready early the next morning, and Harry once again found himself ensconced in a chair and plied with tea. The conversation picked up again, this time with pointers on the best way to handle Fudge.

Severus wasn't worried about Fudge; a two-year-old could outwit the man. No, he had another concern. “Harry, when Dumbledore does arrive, be firm with him. But the most important point to remember is unless you desire him to be apprised of all these plans, then do not for Merlin's sake let him look you in the eye. You're simply unable to protect your mind if your life depended on it… Or anyone else's for that matter, as your unlamented godfather could attest to; if the mangy mutt was alive to attest to anything, that is.”

Harry stared at Severus in disbelief. How could he bring that up? He'd apologized; they'd talked about Severus being a bastard. “Snape, you git, that was a low blow; I'm well aware of what my failure at Occlumency cost. I don't need you to remind me.” With a hurt and angered look on his face, Harry threw his drink in Snape's face and stalked out of the room.

Devlin broke the rising tension in the room with a lazy, “Well, the brat certainly has a temper. Tell me, Severus, were you attempting to provoke him, or are you really just that much of a bastard?”

Severus glared at him. Wiping his face, he snarled, “Please excuse me. I will return shortly.”

Harry stalked the gardens, occasionally kicking at a shrub as he tried to cool his temper. He knew he had to go back in there, but he was still angry. Hearing footsteps behind him, the young man utilized his survival-honed reflexes to turn, wand drawn, on the dark figure approaching him. Recognizing Snape, he lowered the wand but did not put it away; he thought he still might hex him. “You didn't even last six hours before turning back into a bastard,” he spat.

Severus flinched, aware he had broken their agreement. “Harry, I apologize, that remark was poorly done of me. I find that some habits are harder to break than I anticipated. Don't throw this chance away because of one remark.”

Harry interrupted him, “Severus, I'm not leaving, or going back on the deal. I'm pissed; I left so I could cool off. But really you're an arse, just so you know.”

Relieved that Harry was not leaving and seemed to understand it would take time for Severus to change, the dark man sneered, “And you are an impertinent brat.” Growing more serious, Severus added, “Harry, if I say something similar, simply inform me. I don't enjoy having drinks tossed in my face. I am endeavoring to remember who you are now, not who I thought you were.”

Harry knew how much it cost the proud man to say that. With a small smile on his face, he walked over and offered his hand. When Severus took it, he replied, “I can live with that.”

The decision was made that Harry and Severus would spend the night at Sinister Place; Harry passed a restful night in the richly decorated guest room. The problems started early the next morning, when Luc approached the sleeping young man, took hold of a shoulder and shook. He soon found himself bound, and hanging upside down stuck to the wall. His shouting brought the rest of the household running to Harry's room, where, upon witnessing the scene, Severus and the Bar proceeded to laugh until they were well out of breath, much to Luc's dismay.

After freeing the blonde, Harry shooed everyone from the room and took advantage of the luxurious bathroom. A long hot shower later, Harry emerged wrapped in a towel to find Luc laying his new robes on the bed. “You can leave,” he drawled. “I've been dressing myself for quite a while.”

Luc rolled his eyes and smirked. “Come now, don't be shy. You can close your eyes if you're embarrassed. I want to see how they look on you.”

Harry groaned, grabbed the robes and headed back into the bathroom; `Pervert' was the parting shot over his shoulder. As he closed the door he heard, `Spoilsport' in reply.

When he looked in the mirror, Harry had to admit Luc had good taste, the dark green robes looked nice on him. The silken robes were the nicest thing he'd ever worn; the black velvet trim set them off well. Harry walked into his bedroom to find it full again. “What is it with you lot and my bedroom?” he demanded.

Harry received no reply; at the expectant looks, he reluctantly turned in place so they could see the full picture. The wolf whistles combined with Gabriel's `Harry looks edible when cleaned up' caused young man to blush. When the laughter and catcalls from the group continued, Harry drew his wand and threatened them all.

Finally, Severus shushed the rowdy men and turned to the young man before him. “You look respectable; you need to do something with that mop on your head though.”

Harry rolled his eyes and rummaged through his bag to find a brush. Finding it in the bottom of his bag, he was surprised when it was snatched out of his hands. Harry soon found himself sitting in a chair before Gabriel who brushed out the wet shoulder-length locks. Another group decision with no input from the young man in question found him with the front portion of his hair held back with a black clip.

Severus and Devlin watched the group with amused smiles until Vane said, “If you lot are through playing dress-up, it's time to go.” The comment earned a rude hand gesture from Harry, but they were ready to leave.

The Ministry of Magic was bustling with mid-morning energy. Ministry employees were crossing the Atrium going from one department to another. Visitors, checking with security and getting lost, roamed the open area. There was a work crew rebuilding the Fountain of Magical Brotherhood. Everyone present stopped, however, at the sight of eight well-dressed, powerful men striding though the front doors with two smaller figures obscured in the middle of the group. The men did not stop to check in with security; the guard never even thought to ask them to. Every person in the Atrium turned and watched as the group entered the lifts. Later some would say that the boy who lived gave a cheery wave as the lift doors closed.

The Bar Sinister plus Harry Potter and Severus Snape exited the lift at Level One and approached a familiar redhead sitting at a desk before an impressive set of double doors. Harry looked at Percy Weasley and grinned, saying, “Hi, Percy, we need to see Minister Fudge.”

Percy was taken aback with so many powerful gazes turned his way, so he snapped at the one he was most comfortable with, “Harry Potter, what gives you the right to walk in here and demand to see Minister Fudge?” Percy really had a head of steam going now. “The Minister is a very busy man. If you don't have an appointment, I can't let you in. And I know you're not scheduled to see him today.”

Harry was still grinning. “No, I don't have an appointment, but Fudge will see me.”

Percy swelled up like a blowfish. “And why is that?”

Harry leaned down and said softly, “Because, Percy, I killed Voldemort. Did no one tell you?”

Percy turned as red as his hair, looked to Professor Snape, who nodded in confirmation, and said, “One moment please, gentlemen.” He hurriedly knocked on the double doors and entered.

In short order the eight men found themselves escorted by an abashed Percy into Minister Fudge's office. Harry turned to say bye to Percy when he heard a sound he hoped to never hear again. “Hem, hem, Mr. Potter, what brings you here today, intruding on Minister Fudge's busy schedule?”

Harry turned with growing horror and saw the toad-like form of Dolores Umbridge. “Oh no, Severus, please make her go away. I will never keep my temper under control with her here,” Harry pleaded with the Potions master in a whisper.

Severus turned to the Minister and spoke in his coldest voice, dripping with malice, “Minister, Mr. Potter is uncomfortable with that woman here. Are you aware that she tortured him and several other students in her time at Hogwarts? I will not even mention her attempt at using Veritaserum to question a minor without his guardian's approval, or, for that matter, his guardian's knowledge.”

The Minister understood the implied threat and said hastily, “Dolores, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside with Weasley; go now.” Shooting everyone in the room a glare, Umbridge turned to head out the door, clearly unhappy. Harry couldn't resist and made clopping noises with his tongue as she was leaving, earning him a cuff to the head from Severus.

With the room clear of the malign influence of Umbridge, the men arrayed themselves in chairs around the Minister's desk, all with the exception of Devlin and Gabriel, who stood guard over the captives. Fudge looked like he was in over his head but willing to give it a valiant try nevertheless. “Mr. Potter, what can I do for you today?” Suddenly realizing whom Potter brought with him, Fudge leaped to his feet and exclaimed, “Sweet Merlin, Potter, do you know who these men are?”

Harry glared at him coldly. “Minister, these are my friends, if that is what you mean.”

Devlin snorted. “Sit down, Fudge, hear the brat out. Do your job and we'll leave you in peace.”

Harry gave the Minister a minute to collect his scattered wits, before starting his demands. “I want you to clear Sirius Black of all charges,” he stated curtly. “Then you will try Peter Pettigrew for betraying my parents. After that you will have trial for Sirius' murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange.”

The Minister stared at him, obviously wondering where the boy had got the nerve to order him around. “Mr. Potter, Peter Pettigrew is dead, and while I would dearly love to try Lestrange no one knows where she is.” As soon as he finished, Devlin and Gabriel removed the hoods covering their prisoners. Minister Fudge slumped back in his chair, eyes glazed with shock, immune to all attempts to get his attention. He was practically hyperventilating.

Five minutes later saw the Minister returning to normal now that he was pumped full of calming draught, courtesy of a disgusted Potions master. Once he was calm the Minister quickly filled out the necessary papers to clear Sirius' name. In short order he had the papers in Harry's hands and the two prisoners in the hands of the Aurors.

That finished, Harry began his next set of demands. “Minister, I want your personal assurance, and a written document stating that Severus Snape is not a Death Eater. That he did, in fact, spy for many years on behalf of the wizarding world, and that he will not be prosecuted for any activity during that time frame.”

The Minister was startled; he disliked Snape and did not want to do the man any favors. “Why in Merlin's name would I do that? What assurance do I have that it's true?”

Harry only smiled coldly and said, “You have my assurance, and you will do it because you owe me. I took care of Voldemort for you, saving your career which, until today, was rapidly heading downhill because of your lack of action. Do as I ask and I will not speak out against you.”

Fudge knew he would be a fool to turn down the offer; it was the best he could hope for. He quickly wrote what was asked for and handed it to Potter. “Here, you have my word; I will not press for, nor allow any prosecution of the man.”

A disturbance of some sort turned Harry's attention to the door. Shouting could be heard, then silence; a second later came a knock and Percy Weasley came into the room escorting Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody. Dumbledore and Moody went to Fudge's side and the three of them were soon arguing.

Remus came over to Harry and knelt beside his chair. “Harry, good to see you, you're looking good,” he said softly

Harry smiled at his parents' friend. “Hey, Remus, I'm glad to see you too. Before I forget, Sirius said to give you this.”

Harry handed Lupin a pouch. Looking inside it, Remus saw twenty galleons. Understanding at once, he started laughing. “Padfoot always pays his losses.”

Harry nodded and handed the papers clearing Sirius to Remus. “Here, Moony, have a look at these,” he encouraged.

Remus' smile grew the longer he read. Handing the papers back, he said, “Good job, kiddo, he would have liked that.”

Remus looked around the room, taking in the men gathered there. “Harry, how in the world did you end up with the Bar Sinister?” he questioned softly.

With a laugh, Harry waved the question away. “It's a long story, and I'll have to tell you later. For now I have a headmaster to get off my back. I'll owl you when I have a chance.” With that Harry stood up to enter the fray.

Harry joined the arguing men, with Severus and Devlin at his side. Taking a deep breath to brace himself for the confrontation to come, he said, “Excuse me.”

No one was listening. He raised his voice. “Excuse me!” Finally the men's attention was on him. “Headmaster, Professor Moody, why are you here? You interrupted a private meeting,” stated Harry coolly. “I have unfinished business with Minister Fudge.”

Fudge looked like Christmas came early; someone was standing up to Dumbledore, something he wished he had the guts to do more often. “Harry, my dear boy, I was arranging to take you back to Hogwarts. Where you will be safe,” Dumbledore said.

Harry felt his temper rising. The man refused to believe he could take care of himself; this had to end, now. “Headmaster, with all due respect, please stay out of my business. I am capable of seeing to my own safety and anything else that needs to be done.”

The headmaster sadly shook his head and began again the litany that only he could keep Harry safe. Harry argued with him for several minutes. Devlin turned to Severus and spoke in a low voice, “The old man is going to alienate the boy, all in the name of keeping him safe. Hell, I've known Harry for a day and even I can see he's going about it the wrong way.”

Severus nodded and drawled, “Yes, with Potter you need to include him in the decisions. I cannot blame Potter for being angry; there is nothing as distasteful as having your life arranged for you. Although the brat does need protection, mostly from himself.”

Devlin locked his pale green eyes on the black ones. “Severus, you're not fooling me. You're protecting the brat now; you would have even without that alliance of yours.”

Severus sneered. “You are just as guilty as I am. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn't have offered your services even if the brat failed your little test?”

Devlin's only response was a soft `Touché.'

Severus could see Harry was close to losing his temper. Knowing that the destruction of another office would not be beneficial now, he stepped in. “Headmaster, Minister, this entire argument is a waste of time. Mr. Potter is an emancipated adult, his decisions are his own. If the concern is his education, steps have been taken to insure he completes his N.E.W.T's.”

Dumbledore turned on Severus. “Severus, what steps are you referring to? Harry's name no longer appears in Hogwarts books. Why would you even be aware of Mr. Potter's plans?”

Finally seeing his chance, Harry cut in, “The reason my name is not in Hogwarts books any longer, Headmaster, is because Professor Snape offered me an apprenticeship, and I accepted it.”

There were several moments of stunned silence from the headmaster, Fudge and Moody at the concept of Harry Potter and Severus Snape voluntarily working together. Harry turned to the Minister and raised an eyebrow, Fudge quickly understood his role.

“Now see here, Albus, if the boy is emancipated then I will have to deny your petition for guardianship. His educational needs are in his hands,” Fudge stated imperiously. Turning to Harry, he suggested, “Mr. Potter, if I could just see your papers, we can put this all behind us.”

Harry handed over the papers giving him his freedom; the Minister looked them over and handed them back. “The papers are in order,” he concluded pompously. “Mr. Potter is an adult in the eyes of the law. Petition denied.”

Turning back to Harry he said, “I wish you luck in pursuit of your Mastery.”

As Dumbledore, Moody and Remus were herded out of the office by Fudge, Devlin turned to Severus. “How much do you bet Fudge faints at Harry's next request?”

Severus snorted. “Highly doubtful, I gave him enough calming draught to reduce a raging hippogriff to a child's riding pony.”

Devlin looked like someone took away his favorite toy. “Bastard, ruin all my fun.”

Fudge sat at his desk once again and asked, “Now, Mr. Potter, what else can I do for you today?”

Harry smiled. “Just this last thing, it's an easy one. I need you to approve my advocates to the two seats I hold on the Wizengamot.”

The portly Minister looked surprised. “Two seats… I know about the Potter seat. What is the second?”

“Minister, in his will Sirius Black named me his heir, of everything. Including the Black seat.” The Minister slumped in his seat and waved his hand defeatedly. “Very well, Mr. Potter, who are your advocates?”

Devlin and Vane stood up; Fudge turned an unattractive shade of red. “Oh no,” he mumbled, “not those two. Do you have any idea what type of trouble they would cause in the Wizengamot?”

Harry just kept smiling. “Trouble that is long overdue. Yes, Minister, they are my advocates. What's more, I would like to formally petition that when I'm able to take over my seat you offer Devlin one of his own on the Wizengamot.”

The entire room was silent; this had not been part of the plan. Harry held Fudge's eyes. He knew the older man would cave in. He wasn't sure how Devlin would react, but the man had already done so much for him, that he wanted to return the favor. Finally, Fudge broke eye contact and replied, “Very well, I accept your advocates, and if that man manages to carry out his duties in accordance to the decrees I will offer him a seat as you requested. May Merlin save us all.” Harry grinned at Devlin, who simply raised an eyebrow, then nodded in thanks.

The group headed for the door when Harry turned back to the Minister once again. “Minister, am I going to have to do the whole appointment thing if I want to see you again?”

Severus laughed inwardly when he saw Fudge discover what he himself already knew − that it was best to simply give in to Potter. The brat was an unstoppable force always in motion, and you either joined or got run over. “Mr. Potter, my door is open to you anytime,” Fudge said in resignation.

Harry gave his thanks and they left. Walking back through the Atrium, Harry suddenly remembered the date. “Hey, did you know today is my birthday?”

July 1996

When the group of eight arrived at the Apparition point, arguing the best place to eat, Severus turned to Harry. “Remind me to teach you Apparition,” he drawled. “It is becoming quite tiresome to haul a brat with me all the time.”

Harry grinned up at him. “I already know how to do it, I just don't have my license.”

Severus glared at him and turned to the group. “We will meet you at Sherlock's in half an hour,” he stated curtly. “We have to get Mr. Potter's Apparition license.” The Bar nodded and left. Harry and Severus headed back into the Ministry and down to the license office. With minimal fuss, Harry walked out twenty minutes later as the proud owner of an Apparition license.

Soon the two men rejoined their friends at the dark-paneled restaurant, finding them in a private room in the back. They all placed their orders and talked quietly till the food arrived. When everyone finished and sat back to enjoy an after-lunch drink, Luc turned to Harry. “You mentioned it was your birthday, how old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Harry replied. Luc gave him a wicked grin and mocked, “Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed? Tell us, Harry, have you been kissed?”

Harry blushed red, “Once,” he mumbled. The group laughed, and Gabriel said, “Oh, that won't do, everyone needs a birthday kiss.” He stood up and walked over to Harry. Pulling the younger man to his feet, Gabriel wrapped one strong arm around Harry's waist, using the other to tilt the young man's chin up, leaned down, and kissed him, thoroughly.

It was the first time Harry had kissed a man, not that he had any objections. Gabriel could really kiss, and when the other man's tongue asked admittance to his mouth he granted it. Harry couldn't keep the thought out of his head, Wow; this is way better than kissing Cho… no tears. It was then that Harry had an epiphany − why did it matter what gender someone was? He could like guys as well as girls. When the kiss finally ended, Harry was grinning stupidly, and Gabriel patted his cheek, much to the others' amusement.

After lunch and a kiss, Harry headed to Gringotts with Spencer. As they walked the older man gave Harry an overview of what ancestral estates usually entailed. Struggling to understand, Harry once again wished someone had thought to tell him some of this earlier. He could have been learning these things for years, not getting a crash course in things most other wizards in his situation would have already known.

The goblin they dealt with was as polite as goblins can be. Spencer handled most of the details. There was an emotional moment when Sirius' will was read, but Harry dealt with it well and they were finished within two hours. As they walked back out of the bank, Harry asked Spencer, “Do wizards have accountants? Someone I could hire to deal with all of that till I know enough to do it myself?”

Spencer stopped walking and looked at the younger man closely. “Is that what you want, to learn to handle your finances?”

When Harry nodded eagerly to signify that he did, in fact, want to learn, Spencer offered, “Harry, I would be willing to look after them for you, and to teach you to do it yourself.”

The younger man smiled his gratitude. “How much do you charge? Whatever it is it would be worth it.”

Spencer refused his money, but Harry argued until finally the older man grumbled, “Harry, the Bar is filthy rich; we can buy anything we please. I enjoy financial matters, and none of the others like them. Let me teach you.” With that, Harry and Spencer came to an agreement.

While talking to the goblins, Harry had discovered a modest sized home that had belonged to his Potter grandparents. After finding out that it had strong enough wards to keep out the remaining Death Eaters, he decided to use it as his home base.

Harry then felt free to turn his attention to his wardrobe, or lack thereof, and Luc was more than willing to help. Harry spent two very long hours with Luc and Madam Malkin. They poked and measured him; they held up cloth and argued colors. Harry's opinion was never asked nor did he feel the need to offer it. When they were finished Harry had six robes to take with him and another twelve to be delivered in the next week. They also bought slacks, jeans, shirts and various other articles of clothing. Harry was relieved his bank account was healthy.

As they were leaving the shop, Luc handed a list to Harry. “Severus asked that you pick up these books. He said you'll need them.” Harry looked at the list, aghast. There had to be fifty books on there. What in the world was Snape planning to teach him?

Harry and Luc made short work of the list of books; when they were finished Luc handed him off to Gabriel who headed down the street, saying he was getting Harry a birthday present. Curious, Harry followed, wondering what the man who gave him his birthday kiss would think was a suitable present.

The two young men walked down Diagon Alley past Gringotts, to a small shop next door to Ollivander's. Harry looked at the sign over the door. Wizard's Ink was the name of the shop. Not understanding, he followed Gabriel in. It was a tattoo parlor, he discovered; Gabriel was getting him a tattoo for his birthday?

Seeing the younger man's confusion, Gabriel explained, “Not all wizard tattoos are like Severus' mark, Harry.” He paused, eyes shadowed with distaste, outrage and something darker Harry couldn't identify. “That thing was a perversion of the idea,” he spat finally.

Gabriel held the door open and ushered Harry inside, still talking. “Wizard tattoos should be an expression of who you have been, and who you want to become. You wouldn't have seen many; most wizards have them where the tattoo is not easily seen. It's a very personal thing.”

For further explanation Gabriel removed his shirt and turned his back to Harry. On Gabriel's back was a green shield with a black bar running diagonally from the top right to the bottom left, with six runes scattered over the shield. Harry thought it was beautiful. “The black bar is the Bar Sinister; the runes are the six of us. They protected me as a child and now I protect them. That's what I mean by personal.”

Harry understood what Gabriel meant. Can't get much more personal than tattooing your chosen family on your back. Wish I had a family like that; glad Gabriel found his…maybe someday I'll find mine.

After sliding his shirt back on Gabriel said, “There is a ritual to getting a tattoo: they give you a drink, you go into a kind of a trance. You will see images that make sense to you. You'll draw an image on parchment, and the artist will tattoo you in the place you envisioned it.”

“I'm not going to lie, it does hurt,” he added, “but not too badly. Plus I have one of Severus' painkillers with me. So what do you think, you up for it?”

Harry's eyes flashed with excitement and he rushed to say, “That would be brilliant.”

The ritual potion was foul. The taste was so bad Harry thought he was going to be sick; then the room starting spinning. Harry sat down, and suddenly he wasn't in the tattoo parlor anymore. All he could see was smoke, black acrid smoke rolling past him; he heard metal striking metal and something hissing close to him. Turning towards the hissing, he saw a brilliant green snake, and discovered that it was coiled around the sword of Gryffindor. Looking up at the man holding the sword, he was startled to see himself. This other Harry was older, stronger, and had a peaceful expression on his face which was strangely at odds with the battle gear he was wearing. Slowly, the warrior Harry walked behind the real Harry and pressed the sword and intertwined snake into his back.

Harry woke with a hiss of pain; he was laying flat on his stomach on a table, Gabriel sitting beside him. The older man looked at Harry's back. “That is some piece of work; I've never seen anything like it. Do you know what it means?”

Harry wasn't even sure what was on his back. Asking to see it, he waited patiently while the tattoo artist arranged the mirrors. Finally Harry was able to get a clear look at the tattoo. It was exactly like his dream: the hilt of the Gryffindor sword started at the nape of his neck and the blade continued down his spine, ending below his waist. A green snake, the same color as Harry's eyes, coiled around the sword. The snake's head rested on his left shoulder blade, black snake eyes blazing out at the world.

Looking closely at the tattoo, Harry had a flash of premonition. “I am the weapon of the wizarding world, mindless at first. But I will hone myself to razor sharpness, and I will need the tactics of a snake, first to learn and then to succeed.” The statement was flatly spoken, making it all the more powerful.

Gabriel nodded. “That you will. The Bar is at your service, Harry. Would you like to learn to wield a blade? I have my Mastery in swords and knives.”

Harry turned to his friend, for he was a friend now. What else did you call someone who understood you so well and offered to help? He smiled slightly and said, “That would be brilliant, thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel laughed. “Oh, don't thank me now. You'll hate me before we're through. Learning blades is murder.”

Once the two young men left the small shop, the taller turned and asked his companion, “Where to now? We still have an hour before we're supposed to meet the others at the Leaky.”

They started walking down the alley when Harry remembered the twins. “Let's go to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It should be great; the twins opened it after leaving Hogwarts last year.”

Harry used the walk to tell Gabriel about the twins, their products, the stunts they pulled on Umbridge and the dramatic exit of the Weasley twins from Hogwarts. People all over Diagon Alley watched the two striking young men laughing as they strolled down the street. Although the two didn't seem to notice, crowds parted for them, for it wasn't often the inhabitants of Diagon Alley saw two warriors walking calmly among them.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was packed; children of all ages were running everywhere, parents following helplessly. Harry spotted two identical redheads behind two identical cash registers. Pushing his way through the sea of children and dragging Gabriel behind him, Harry eventually reached his goal. “Fred, George, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, may I present the Weasley twins, terrors of Hogwarts.”

The twins grinned identical grins. “Harry, and Harry's friend…So pleased you could visit…Just give us a moment…And we will be…Right with you.” It was like a tennis match trying to have a conversation with the twins, speech going from one to the other.

Gabriel looked dizzy. “Do they always do that?” At Harry's nod he groaned. Meanwhile, the twins rounded up their assistant and instructed her to mind the shop. Soon, the four young men headed through the back of the shop up a set of stairs to a flat above the shop; waiting there were Tonks and Remus.

After greetings and introductions all around, the group settled for a talk. The conversation covered Harry and his new friends, his new apprenticeship and the temporary end of Voldemort. They passed a pleasant hour until it was time for Harry and Gabriel to leave. With reminders to write and call on them if anything was needed, the two young men left. Harry was glad to have seen his old friends, pleased to know that they supported him, and had in fact stuck up for him against the Order.

At the Leaky Cauldron, Tom the bartender directed Harry and Gabriel to a private dining room, saying their group was in there. Making their way there, the two young men walked into controlled chaos. Spencer and Sebastian were standing guard over two bound men. Severus and Vane were yelling at Aurors, and Luc was holding a blood stained cloth to the ribs of a prostrate Devlin.

Gabriel ran to Devlin's side and fell to his knees. “What in the bloody hell happened? I leave you alone for two hours and come back to find you bleeding,” he shouted.

Devlin drew a long suffering breath. “It's not that bad, those two gits thought since I went to the loo alone they could take me. As you can see, they were wrong, it's just that one of them hit me with a cutting curse from behind. I turned to dodge it and it caught my ribs. I'll live.”

Devlin added with a wicked grin, “Though someone should tell those Aurors to get the bleeding idiot to St. Mungo's soon. The blade I stabbed him with was poisoned.”

Hearing that statement, Harry pushed his way past the Aurors to Snape's side. “Severus, Devlin says he stabbed one of them with a poisoned blade.”

Severus looked at Devlin. “What poison?”

With a smug look on his face, Devlin replied, “Dolens Nex.”

“Oh for Merlin's sake, Devlin, that poison is borderline legal. If you wish for someone to die horribly there are quicker methods,” Severus complained.

Devlin shrugged and carefully got to his feet. “Then you shouldn't brew it for me. At least it acts slowly enough that you can counteract it.”

The Potions master grumbled under his breath and pulled a small pouch from his pocket. In the pouch were loop holes filled with small vials; selecting one vial, he touched it with his wand and it enlarged. Walking over to the bleeding captive, the dark man poured the contents of the vial directly on the wound.

Harry had to ask, “Do you always carry antidotes to poison with you?”

Severus opened the pouch again, pointing out vials as he talked. “Poison, antidotes, calming draughts, pain relief potions, healing potions and restoratives. I am a Potions master after all, and I, unlike others, practice what I teach. Besides, as you have seen, you never know when a potion will be needed.”

Harry nodded his understanding. “Why did those blokes attack Devlin?” he asked.

Severus shot the bound men a malevolent glare. “It seems Devlin turned their brother over to the Aurors and they sought revenge.”

“What did the brother do?” Harry was intensely curious about the Bar and what exactly they did.

Meanwhile, Vane had finished with the Aurors and joined the conversation. “The idiot thought he could hide from Devlin after he picked his pocket. Nobody crosses the Bar without dire consequences,” he said coldly.

Harry took in the Bar as a whole, realizing for the first time how ruthless these men could be. Well, that does away with any doubt that they can teach me to fight, he thought. I guess their lives have taught them to deal harshly with threats… Surprisingly, the thought doesn't bother me; seems like it's a skill I need to learn.

The Aurors soon left with the prisoners, and the group split up. Gabriel elected to accompany Harry and Severus to Harry's new home and check the wards, while the rest of the Bar returned to Sinister Place. After Apparating to a quiet street, the three approached the house; it was a modest two-story tan brick home. With several big old oak trees providing shade and privacy, the lawn was green and the path to the front door was lined with flowers. There was a large front porch with wicker furniture, glass tables and a jungle of green potted plants.

They walked through the front door and entered the living room; the house was spotless, the furniture was conservative but of obvious quality. Gabriel looked around with appreciation. “The goblins did a good job of looking after the place for you. The wards are strong. I can't find anything that needs to be added. You can Apparate out, but not in.”

Walking over to the fireplace, Gabriel pointed out, “The only Floo connection open is the one in the living room, but it's warded to need a password or permission of the owner. Harry, I think you would be as safe here as you would at Sinister Place, and I set the wards there myself.” Harry nodded and gave Gabriel his standing permission to Floo in. Immediately, Gabriel said his goodbyes, anxious to check up on Devlin.

Harry wandered his grandparents' house, happy to be in the place where his father had grown up. On the ground floor there were two bedrooms, one obviously the master bedroom, a small sitting room, a bathroom, kitchen, living and dining rooms and a breakfast room.

Upstairs had two more bedrooms, another large bathroom and a large empty room; Harry decided it would make a good training room and headed back down to find Snape. He found the older man preparing tea. Snape handed him the tea tray and they made themselves comfortable in the breakfast room.

“We should discuss the terms of the apprenticeship. The sooner it is formal, the sooner we can begin your N.E.W.T preparations,” Severus said as he poured for both of them.

“Ok, where do we start?” Harry got up and found some parchment and a quill in the sideboard.

Severus leaned back in his chair with his tea. “First lodging; will a room in my quarters be acceptable?”

Harry nodded yes and wrote it down. “Next instructors,” continued the older man. “Be sure to include the stipulation regarding the headmaster. I had planned on asking various members of the Bar to assist with your training; is that acceptable?”

Harry grinned his acceptance. “Add everything you can remember of our earlier discussion and I will look it over,” finished Snape curtly.

Harry wrote steadily for a couple of minutes, looked the parchment over and handed it to Severus. The older man read quickly before asking, “Do you agree to all that is listed here?”

When Harry nodded Severus signed the document in his elegant hand, and returned the terms to Harry who also signed. “Do you have your O.W.L results?”

Harry said he did. “Well, go fetch them,” Severus snapped. “I would like to know how much work I've got myself in for.”

Harry ran to the living room where he had deposited his things earlier. A minute later, he handed the O.W.L. papers to Severus who glanced over them. “Perhaps we won't have as much to do as I believed; these are rather good. Now would you please explain why you seem such a mediocre student? These results show a sharp mind.”

Harry tried to explain. “I already told you about the potions thing, yeah, and… well. At first, in first year I really was lost. Everything was new, but slowly classes started making sense.”

Harry took a sip of tea; he hated talking about his relatives. “Anyway, at the Dursleys' I got punished for doing better than Dudley. So I got used to not trying very hard on papers and such. That didn't mean I didn't learn the information, though. Then there was Ron and Hermione, Hermione was the smart one, Ron was the funny one, and I was supposed to be the brave one. So again I didn't try that hard, but I still learned it.”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “By the time the O.W.L's came around, I decided that being the brave one wasn't worth losing my future, so I studied, and it worked. Plus the Dursleys were never going to see those results.”

Severus glared at the young man. “In the future you are expected and required to do the best you are capable of. Having seen these results, I will accept nothing less. You will pass your N.E.W.T's with similar or better results, or you will answer to me.”

Harry did his best not to squirm under that glare, and when Severus finished all he could say was, “Yes, sir.”

“Now that we have addressed that issue, is there a particular event we need to schedule around?” Harry remembered the offers he had received earlier that day. “Well, Spencer is going to handle my finances till he can teach me to do it myself, and Gabriel offered to teach me blades when we were getting my tattoo.”

Severus didn't know which topic to address first. Can nothing ever be easy with the brat? he grumbled to himself. “Why in Circe's name did you get a tattoo?”

“Gabriel took me to a parlor for my birthday, he told me about what a wizard tattoo meant and I liked the sound of it. So I got one, not that it's any of your business.” Harry glared at Severus. It was his body, and he could do what he liked to it.

Severus sighed at the brat's sensitivity. “I was not criticizing you. You are correct, it is not my concern how you choose to decorate your body. My concern was your vulnerability while in the trance; did Gabriel remain the entire time?” Severus asked.

Harry indicated he had before saying, “You know, you don't have to get all formal every time you act like a git and I snap at you, just tell me what you meant. After all, I already know you're a git, I don't expect that to change.”

Severus simply sneered at him. “Moving on, you should take advantage of Spencer's offer; he is unparalleled in the financial world. As to Gabriel's offer, you should feel privileged. He has turned down any number of potential students, and I have never known him to take one.”

“The only people he has ever consented to teach are his cousins,” he added. “The young man is preternaturally gifted with a sword. I will make sure you have time to take advantage of both offers.”

Harry had a hard time reconciling the fun-loving Gabriel he had come to know with the man Severus was describing. He was looking forward to learning blades all the same. “Gabriel said by the time he was finished I would hate him.”

Severus laughed. “He was not exaggerating; sword play and knife work are exhausting, and he will push you further than you ever thought possible. It is a worthwhile skill to have, as you saw Devlin demonstrate today. Most wizards don't expect that type of attack. Also, when you keep your body in shape your magic will respond better.”

The two men refilled their tea cups and Severus brought up another topic. “Potter, while at Hogwarts you will not be a student so the rules do not apply to you; however there are several issues I would like to settle.”

Seeing that he had Harry's full attention, Severus continued. “I am not your parent; I have no desire to act in a parental manner with you. But if we are to live in close quarters then I believe we need to come to an agreement on several things. First, I would appreciate if you did not traipse in and out at all hours. I also don't wish to be unnecessarily concerned if you remain out all night.”

Harry could see the older man's point. “Okay, how about if I agree to inform you if I plan on being out past Hogwarts curfew? My friends would have to be back then anyway,” he offered.

Severus was pleased that the young man was being so agreeable. “That is acceptable; your friends are another issue I wish to discuss. Perhaps we could decide on two nights a week that they would be allowed in my quarters. I have no desire to be tripping over Gryffindors night and day.”

Harry was surprised Severus was allowing that at all. “Wow, you're willing to put up with them two nights a week? That would be great.”

Severus gave him a condescending glare. “I plan to absent myself on those nights. Perhaps I'll set up permanent detention days,” he drawled.

Harry laughed. “It's okay, I doubt it would be every week. If I'm to take my N.E.W.T's by New Year's I'll have a lot of studying to do.”

“Indeed,” was Snape's only response.

“There is one last issue − my Slytherins; most should cause no problems. They are political creatures, and word will have spread about your accomplishments. If you gave Luc free reign with your wardrobe it will faintly scream power and wealth. However, there are those that would challenge you. All I ask is that you refrain from provoking them. By all means defend yourself if necessary, but do not instigate a confrontation.” Severus sipped his tea and waited for Harry's response.

Harry rolled his eyes. “The only Slytherin I've had a real problem with is Malfoy. I don't know the rest well enough, and Malfoy always started it.”

Severus nodded. “I have spoken to Narcissa Malfoy, and informed her it would be in Draco's best interest to avoid a confrontation with you. I can only hope he takes heed of the warning. I will be speaking to the rest of the Slytherins as well; it is my hope that we can avoid the issue entirely. Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss tonight? It is getting late.” Severus was tired; it had been a very long day on top of several other long days.

Harry did have something he wanted to ask, but was unsure of how to bring it up. I'm supposed to be an adult now, he growled at himself. What adult is scared to sleep in a house alone? It's not part of our agreement, but I don't think I can live alone yet. It's a nice house and we are going to be sharing closer quarters soon, so maybe he won't mind. Well, it won't hurt to ask, the worst he can do is insult me and say no. Nothing new there. Come now, Potter, are you a Gryffindor or not?

“I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to stay here,” he stuttered finally. “I've never been alone at night before. I mean in an empty house. First it was the Dursleys' then Hogwarts...” Harry knew he sounded childish but he didn't know how else to ask.

Severus looked over at the younger man. I forget how young he really is, he thought. The majority of the time he acts much older than his age, but he is only sixteen. Of course he's never slept in a house alone before, for Merlin's sake I was in my twenties before I did.

All he finally said was, “I will return within the hour. I want a downstairs bedroom.”

Occlumency Revisited

The world I play in is not mine, alas it's J.K. Rowling.

August 1996

Severus shot upright at two in the morning, his sleep interrupted; a piercing scream alerted him to the cause of his abrupt awaking. Hastily throwing a robe over his black silk sleep pants, Severus quickly climbed the stairs to Potter's bedroom, wand drawn, expecting blood and Death Eaters if the screams were anything to go by.

Bursting into a room empty save the thrashing figure on the bed, Severus was both relieved and unnerved. The young man who had faced down the Dark Lord without a trace of fear was screaming in the midst of a nightmare. Knowing he should wake the brat, but unsure how to do so without ending up like Luc, Severus hesitated. Another heartrending scream echoed through the room, and he knew he had to act.

Severus cautiously approached the bed. “Potter, wake up,” he snapped. The brat was whimpering and thrashing about; Severus stopped at the bedside. “Potter, it's just a dream. Wake up, now.”

If he didn't know Potter had ample reason to have nightmares, Severus would swear the brat was trying to get to him. Who wouldn't feel for the boy? His screams and whimpers tugged even at Severus' walled up heart.

Resigned to being hexed, Severus reached out, took hold of the boy's shoulder and shook lightly. “Harry, it's a dream, wake up for Merlin's sake,” he muttered, only to stumble back a step when Potter shot up, panting and wild-eyed. “Potter, it was a dream, it's over now,” Snape repeated.

Harry's head snapped around; wild green eyes locked with Snape's, the moon providing enough light to see the man. Calming his breathing, he said, “Sorry, guess I forgot the silencing charms.” Harry dropped his head as, inside him, humiliation warred with gratitude that Snape had woken him before the worst part of the dream.

Severus stared at the boy intently. “Silencing charms? How often do you have nightmares?” Severus quickly ran though sleeping potions in his mind. Depending on how often the dreams occurred, he hoped one would work.

Humiliation won and Harry slumped back on the bed. “Fairly often,” he whispered.

“Exactly how often? Give me a number, Potter.” The brat wouldn't look at him when he answered barely audibly, “Four or five times.”

Severus took a deep breath, trying to rein in his annoyance and impatience. “Four or five time what, Potter? A year, a month?” Potter still wouldn't meet his eyes, so the whispered `a week' didn't come as a shock.

Harry nervously rubbed at the seam of his pants. He would have to remember to put up the silencing wards in the morning. The man was good enough to stay with Harry; he didn't deserve to have his sleep disturbed every night.

Severus could see Potter was reluctant to talk about the dreams, not that he held it against the young man. He would be hard pressed to share the terrors that haunted his own dreams. Perhaps there was a way to obtain the information he needed to help the boy without intruding on Potter's desire for privacy. “Potter, the dreams, are they memories or figments of your imagination?” he inquired.

At the carefully worded question, Harry lifted his head, and his eyes held a faraway look. “Memories; it's always memories,” he said slowly.

Severus nodded; there was a chance he could help, but the process would not be enjoyable for either of them. “Very well, Potter, try to sleep some more; in the morning we will attempt to control these dreams.” After the softly spoken `thanks for waking me,' Severus lingered long enough to assure himself Potter at least intended to rest before seeking his own bed and returning to his much needed sleep.

The next time Harry woke, the sun was shining. Stretching and ambling to the loo, Harry attended to his morning ablutions and dressed comfortably for the day. Downstairs, the young man followed the scent of coffee to the front porch. Intent on the caffeine his mind craved, he failed to notice his companion until he was half way through his second cup.

“Not a morning person, are we, Potter?” came the silky drawl.

Harry rubbed his eyes, not believing the sight before him. Severus Snape was lounging on a chair in blue jeans and a black tee shirt, barefoot, smoking a cigarette, and reading the morning paper in-between sips of coffee, using an empty saucer for an ashtray. Stunned, Harry said the only thing to come to mind. “I didn't know you smoked.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You wouldn't; Albus doesn't allow his staff to smoke in public. It might set a bad example for the dunderheads. I will refrain from smoking in the house if it offends you so much.”

Harry laughed, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Would be a bit hypocritical of me, now wouldn't it.”

Severus looked over the Muggle cigarettes and sat up jerkily. “Potter, don't smoke that Muggle rubbish,” he snapped. “That shite will kill you.” Summoning a pack of wizard cigarettes from his room, he tossed them to Potter. “Wizard cigarettes have the toxins removed, and the taste is better.”

Harry couldn't help staring at Snape; the man he'd always thought of as rigid and straight-laced was acting very out of character. Snape still seemed reserved, but he was more relaxed than Harry would have ever imagined. “Why are you so different here?” he asked curiously. “I mean, no shoes, smoking, giving me cigarettes?”

Severus folded the newspaper and laid it beside his coffee. Exasperation was clear in his voice when he answered. “Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter, even you can't be so dim as to expect your teachers to act the same outside of school as they do inside.” Severus crushed out his cigarette. “To prevent the destruction of my classroom and excessive impertinence, I maintain a certain demeanor in the presence of children. However, I see no children here.”

Harry sat a little straighter in his chair, pleased that in a Snapish way he'd been given a compliment. Still feeling guilty for interrupting Snape's sleep, he offered, “Sorry about last night, it won't happen again.”

Severus waved away the apology and refilled his coffee cup, watching Potter from behind his veil of hair. Potter lit one of the wizard cigarettes and inhaled in pleasure. Withdrawing one from his own pack Severus tapped it thoughtfully before lighting it with his wand and taking a deep drag to fortify himself for the conversation to come. “Sleeping draughts won't work due to the frequency of you nightmares.”

Harry sighed; he knew the topic would come up but he'd half hoped Snape would just leave it be. “I know, I woke my roommates so often McGonagall made me see Madam Pomfrey. She said I should only take them when I absolutely needed to,” Harry said resignedly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “How long has this situation gone on?”

“I started having nightmares after the Chamber in second year; they used to be only when I'd had a stressful day. It's only since just before the tournament that they have come so often,” the young man explained. Frustrated with his dreams, Harry raked his hair out of his face with both hands before letting it fall back into place.

Snape's other eyebrow rose as well. “For the last two years you have had nightmares that leave you screaming yourself awake, with only the sporadic help of the occasional sleeping draught, four or five times a week?” Severus could not believe the headmaster had allowed the situation to deteriorate so far. That the brat was still sane and functioning was a testament to Potter's iron will.

Harry blushed and nodded; he was embarrassed to reveal such a weakness to Snape of all people. The man always seemed so in control; no doubt he refused to have nightmares.

Severus saw the blush and guessed the cause; wanting to spare the young man as much embarrassment as possible, he spoke matter-of-factly. “Potter, I understand nightmares. With my past there is fodder for a multitude of interrupted nights. However, there is a method to significantly reduce the frequency of them.”

Harry looked up, a glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes. “How?”

“I have been reluctant to broach this topic due to our past difficulties,” Severus started. ”However, you need more sleep than you are currently getting if you wish to do well with all we have planned. Frankly, I'm impressed you did so well on your O.W.L.'s.”

Harry sighed impatiently; it wasn't like Snape to beat around the bush like this. “I took a dreamless sleep potion the week of the O.W.L.'s. Severus, please tell me how to control my nightmares.”

Severus took another long drag from his cigarette and said bluntly, “Occlumency.”

Harry flinched. Even the word, Occlumency, brought up painful memories. He copied Severus' drag on his cigarette. He needed sleep, he was so tired of his worst memories playing out at night, so he asked, “How would Occlumency help with nightmares? I thought it was just a defense to keep people out of your head.”

Severus was relieved the brat seemed willing to discuss it calmly; he'd half feared another screaming row. “Yes, the main purpose of Occlumency is to defend against a Legilimens; however, if you wish to successfully occlude your mind, it must be ordered. Once your mind is ordered it is possible to lock away certain memories until such a time as your conscious mind unlocks them. As you are no doubt aware, when asleep it is your unconscious mind pulling forth the memories.”

Harry nodded his understanding; he sipped his coffee for a few minutes, wondering if he could do it. Would the frustration be worth it? Thinking over all he wanted to accomplish this year, along with the need to find and destroy several Horcruxes, he decided it was. “Okay, if you're willing to try it again, so am I.”

Severus needed to be sure Potter was serious this time. “You will put forth more effort this time?” When the brat started to protest Severus cut in, “Potter, can you tell me honestly that you gave it your best effort last time? That you really wanted to learn Occlumency?”

Harry's protest died on his lips; they both knew he hadn't wanted to learn and only gave a poor effort at best. “I will give it my best this time, I swear it.”

Severus nodded his acceptance. “Very well. I have a few matters to attend to, so we'll begin in an hour. Meet me in the living room.” Severus rose gracefully from his chair and headed inside, calling over his shoulder, “Oh, and, Potter, take a look at the paper. I especially enjoyed the front page.”

Unable to resist his curiosity, Harry picked up the paper; choking on his coffee, he read: Boy-Who-Lived-To-Kill-You-Know-Who! Underneath the lurid headline was a picture of Harry from the Triwizard Tournament. “Shite, shite, shite,” he growled. Scowling, Harry read the accompanying article; sighing with relief, he saw the details had not been made public. The capture of Pettigrew and Bellatrix was also reported. Harry was relieved to see Snape had received some credit there at least, for his role in Voldemort's defeat was not noted.

As he was washing the coffee things, Harry realized some household help would be needed. There were sure to be owls from fans, and he didn't want to play house-elf all summer. Not now that he was Dursley-free. Wondering if it would work, he called out, “Dobby.”

In less than a minute the little elf popped into the room and launched himself at Harry's knees, crying out, “Harry Potter is calling Dobby to Harry Potter's home! Is Harry Potter wanting Dobby to work for him now?” Harry gently patted Dobby's back, trying to calm him enough to talk.

Detaching the ecstatic elf, Harry knelt down. “Yes, Dobby, I'd like you to work for me, and I'll pay you whatever you'd like.” A few minutes' negotiations settled Dobby's wage as a little higher than at Hogwarts and the same time off. Harry gave his new employee his instructions. “All I really need, Dobby, is for you to cook for Professor Snape and me. Maybe sort the mail, throw out anything dangerous or from strangers, okay?”

Dobby nodded, his bat-like ears flapping. “Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby be doing all that, and the cleaning and the laundry.” Dobby didn't seem to need to breathe when he talked, causing Harry some concern.

Harry simply sighed and nodded, not wanting to argue duty with a house-elf. “Okay, Dobby, we should be ready for lunch around noon.” After more thank you's and another hug, Harry escaped to the living room and for Occlumency lesson, trying to remember why he'd thought hiring Dobby would be a good idea.

Harry entered the living room to find a still jean-clad barefoot Snape reading a thick book in a leather armchair before the lit fireplace. Harry dropped into the matching chair opposite Snape and dropped his head in his hands. He hoped he did the right thing hiring the hyper little elf, and wished that Dobby would calm down soon.

Severus set aside his book and observed the young man across from him; Potter was dressed in loose tan drawstring pants and a green tee shirt; his feet were bare and his hair was loose around his shoulders, falling in his face, a face that was currently hidden by his hands. “Problem, Potter?” Severus drawled.

“I just hired Dobby to cook and look after the house. I'm not sure I'll survive his devotion,” Harry moaned.

“That hyperactive elf from Hogwarts? If you dislike the creature why would you feel the need to hire him?” Severus asked curiously.

“I like him fine, besides I didn't fancy being the house-elf if I didn't have to. I doubt you'd be willing to do all the cooking and cleaning either. It's just Dobby is so…Dobby.” Harry raked his hands though his hair, pushing it off his face.

“Indeed, house-elf is not a role I would relish; I had not thought about the division of labor. I'm pleased you corrected that oversight. Fear not, Potter, the elf will soon lose his awe of you; spending sufficient time in your presence is a sure cure for that ailment,” Severus said, hiding a smile.

“Git; you couldn't compliment me without adding the insult, could you?” Harry said, laughing.

“The day I fail to insult you, Potter, is the day they dig my grave.” Severus gave Potter a wicked grin then sobered. “Jocularity aside, we need to get started. Wand out, let us see what you recall from our previous lessons.” Walking to the center of the room, Severus waited for Potter to join him.

Harry drew a bracing breath and rose, pulling his wand from his pocket and standing before Snape. He lifted his head and looked into those fathomless black eyes and heard, “Legilimens.”

Severus entered the brat's mind with absurd ease. Memories flew past him. Potter at six watching with longing as a fat boy opened Christmas presents… A fat Muggle yelling at a very young Potter about breakfast being late then pushing past him… A skinny woman swinging at Potter's head with a soapy frying pan. Severus searched for a memory with plenty of pain attached, hoping the brat would push him out with some incentive, and watched in horror as the Diggory boy died. Before the memory could reach its conclusion, Severus pulled out of Potter's mind.

“Damn it, Potter, you're still not trying. Your mind is wide open; which part of `clear your mind' is so difficult for you? Damn it, I'm beginning to think you didn't even read that bloody book,” Severus snarled.

Harry interrupted Snape mid-rant, “What book? You never gave me a book. You just yell `clear your mind', and I don't bloody know how.” Harry was angry; this was no different than the previous lessons.

“The book I told that foul elf of Black's to give you. I would have given it to you myself, but if I remained in the same room with Black I would have cursed him. Did you read it?” Severus' voice was laced with frustration; he knew the brat was capable of Occlumency. It required willpower and Merlin knew the brat had that in spades.

Harry started laughing and couldn't stop, not even when Snape glared at him and began tapping his foot. Struggling to regain his composure, Harry gasped out, “You gave Kreacher a book to give me and expected him to listen? Bloody hell, he only obeyed Sirius when he couldn't find any way around it, and he never obeyed anyone else. I never got a book about Occlumency, and Hogwarts library didn't have one.”

In between bursts of laughter Severus could hear Potter mumble, “All this time… all the yelling and Sirius… it's all that bloody foul elf's fault.”

“Now I'm doubly glad I killed the loathsome creature,” Severus spat. “I would have killed him sooner for wasting my time had I known.”

Harry's laughter broke off, and he looked at Snape, green eyes wide in shock. “You killed Kreacher? When? Why?”

Severus looked at Potter warily. “At the beginning of the summer holidays; he couldn't be trusted. Suppose the next time he visited the Malfoys he revealed my true loyalties. It was a risk I was not willing to take. Albus disagreed, but it was too late.”

“Why did Dumbledore disagree?” Harry asked.

“He thought the wretched thing could be rehabilitated, with kindness and lemon drops, no doubt. Look, Potter, technically he was your elf at the time, as Black left you everything. If you ask I would be obliged to pay you recompose for your loss.” Severus' face was a blank mask, his voice tight.

Harry took in Snape's stiff posture. “No, I don't want anything, I'm not sorry he's dead. It's just, I mean, you killed him, and you smoke, and your clothes... I've spent the last five years seeing you as the Potions master and now this… It's just the shock of realizing you're…” Harry trailed off, afraid he'd offended Snape.

Severus relaxed. Potter was not angry and he seemed willing to accept Severus as he was. Did the brat know what a rare gift that was? “A man or perhaps human,” he finished. “Either would be correct.”

Potter nodded and ducked his head, blushing; Severus knew what he was feeling. “Relax, Potter, I understand, it is difficult when you first realize your former professors are human as well. I was not quite twenty when I began teaching at Hogwarts. At my first staff meeting, Minerva McGonagall told an off-color joke. To which I responded `Professor!' like an outraged virgin. The resulting laughter still haunts me.”

Harry choked on his laughter. “She told a dirty joke?”

Severus grinned wickedly and said, “It was almost as bad the first time I heard Flitwick say fuck.”

Harry sat on the floor and collapsed with laughter. “Thanks, Severus,” he said when he regained his breath. “I will try to remember that you're human too.”

“Time, Potter. All it takes is time,” drawled Severus.

Harry looked up at Snape. Knowing the man was human helped him ask, “What was in that book? Why was it so important?”

Severus sank gracefully to the floor across from Potter. “Detailed Occlumency books are quite rare, as you discovered. That particular book was very detailed; it contained several methods to clearing and ordering your mind,” he explained patiently.

Frustrated, Severus ran an absentminded hand through his hair. “At the time I intended for you to experiment until you found one that worked. But there is another method of learning; it would require a great deal of trust on your part.”

Harry raised his eyes to the man sitting cross-legged before him. “That's okay, I trust you.”

Severus sighed; the brat kept saying that, and if Severus wasn't careful one day he might start to believe it. “Potter, let me explain before you dive headfirst in your typical Gryffindor fashion,” Severus growled.

At Potter's nod he continued more calmly, “Unlike what we have been attempting, this method would require you allowing, even welcoming me into your mind. The purpose is so that I may assist you in ordering you thoughts. I will show you how it is done so that you may finish the endeavor correctly. However, there are risks.”

Harry interrupted, “Why didn't we do it that way last term?”

Severus sneered. “Would you have welcomed me into your mind, your innermost thoughts, desires and fears at that time?” Potter had the grace to blush and look away as he shook his head. “I thought not, now if I may continue.”

Harry turned his gaze back to Snape. “Sorry, I know you must think I'm a fool,” he mumbled.

“Yet you continue to open your mouth and prove it anyway.” Severus could not resist such an opening, ignoring the muttered `git'; there wasn't any heat behind it. He resumed his lecture. “The risks if you attempt to resist me range from a mild headache to several days of unconsciousness, depending on the force of the resistance. Now do you understand why I did not suggest this last time? You would have spent a week in the hospital wing.”

Distractedly, Harry agreed. “Yeah, I understand.” The young man thought hard. Can I let Snape into my head like that? I'm still not sure I even like the git, but lately he's been bearable. Actually he's been really nice, for Snape, and I do trust him. I've got to learn this. Well, nothing to do but try. Hopefully the headache won't be too bad.

Severus waited patiently for Potter's decision, knowing that what he was suggesting was a difficult concept, worthy of serious thought. On one hand, Severus hoped Potter agreed; he needed to know Occlumency and Severus sincerely wanted to help with the nightmares. On the other hand, Severus was not certain he wanted to see that much of the brat's thoughts and desires, much less his fears. As such, he was not at all sure how he felt when he heard Potter say, “I'll do it.”

Over lunch, the two men agreed to try the new method after dinner. Severus explained to Potter that he needed to be relaxed for best results, and encouraged the brat to choose activities he enjoyed for the remainder of the day.

After lunch Severus spent the afternoon turning the downstairs sitting room into a respectable potions lab. Several enjoyable and productive hours later Severus joined Potter for an excellent dinner. Severus was pleased the brat had the foresight to hire the elf, even if the creature's fawning over Potter was disgusting.

The two men made their way into the living room, both lost in thought about what was to occur. Severus directed Potter to sit before the fire. Pouring them both a measure of scotch, Severus handed one to Potter and took his seat. At Potter's questioning look he explained, “From what I have observed you have already corrupted yourself. This, however, is to help you relax. Sip it, don't gulp, it's fifty-year-old scotch.”

Harry took a tentative sip, then another. “It's good,” he concluded finally. “Better than the shite my uncle had.”

Severus mocked, “Smoking and drinking, at your tender age? I'm shocked, Potter, that the hero of the wizarding world would do such things.” There was a question laced in the insult.

Harry glared at him. “Merlin, you're a sarcastic git. I shouldn't tell you, but, the drinking was just to see what the fuss was about. I decided getting pissed is a bloody stupid thing to do, because the next day is awful. Smoking, on the other hand, − it's relaxing. Gives me time to think. At Hogwarts I'd go to the far side of the lake; at the Dursleys', anywhere they couldn't see me.”

Severus sipped his own drink. “I concur with your decision about inebriation; my own reason is my dislike of losing control as well as the inevitable pain.”

Hoping to encourage Potter to relax, he added, “I share your reasons for smoking as well; I started at your age when I discovered that, after my father died, the smell brought to mind the few fond memories I have of the man. You will be permitted to smoke in my quarters, but not in any public areas of Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded his understanding; they spent several moments quietly sipping the liquor before Snape said, “Let's begin.”

Severus glanced over Potter; the brat was as relaxed as he probably could be given the circumstances. “Remain seated, get comfortable and remember to remain relaxed. You will not be required to do anything beyond permit my entry. When you are ready, look me in the eye and think of nothing other than allowing me in.” As he waited for Potter to prepare himself, Severus hoped they were both up to this or it would be painful.

Harry took a deep breath relaxed as much as possible given Snape was soon to be in his head. Figuring this was as good as it got, Harry lifted his head and met those intense black eyes with Gryffindor determination. Several moments passed, and Harry was beginning to feel silly sitting and staring into Snape's eyes when he felt a presence in his mind. Harry fought the instinctive reaction to force the intruder out. Once that passed, he gasped. He could understand what Snape wanted him to do even though there were no words; it was like Snape had said. He was literally showing him what to do.

Ordering his mind was like making a multi-layered sphere. Harry's darkest memories, the ones that haunted his dreams, were locked in the center, enclosed in diamond walls, the hardest substance Harry knew. Private plans, desires, thoughts and fears were the next layer, with walls of solid steel, next mildly embarrassing thoughts.

Severus withdrew from Potter's mind when the brat seemed to grasp the concept; seeing the memories that tormented Potter's sleep had left him shaken. They had been far worse than he had imagined, and the thought that a sixteen-year-old boy had witnessed some of the most depraved acts of the Dark Lord almost cost Severus his dinner.

To prevent such an occurrence Severus rose and poured himself another drink; a glance at Potter showed the young man still engaged in ordering his mind. Left to his own thoughts, Severus sat and stared into the fire. For Merlin's sake, that young man has seen far worse depravity than most grown men. And those Muggles that raised him. It was neglect, if not outright abuse. No wonder he so readily accepted the Bar and me. Potter needs someone to accept him for himself, that's why he so readily accepts me as I am. He knows how valuable and rare that is. The brat is embarrassed by how those Muggles treated him. Perhaps I should share some of my past, show him I understand. When did I start to care what Potter felt? Bloody hell, I consider the brat a friend. I'm as fucked up as Potter. I need acceptance as much as the brat… fuck it all, I need another drink.

Harry pulled out of his own mind, refocusing on the here and now. Ordering his mind was amazing. Everything seemed clearer, it was easier to think without the emotions so close to the surface. After locking away those memories, he could already feel some of the terror fading. It wasn't that they were forgotten, more like put into perspective. Wondering how this would affect the Black magic, he turned to Snape. “What do you think ordering my mind will do to the Black magic?”

Severus shook his thoughts away and looked at Potter. It was an intelligent question; he'd have to stop thinking of the brat as a dunderhead. “My understanding is Black magic amplifies your innate magic with the power of your emotions. With your thoughts clear you should be able to tap into your emotions consciously, instead of them controlling you. Try something.”

Harry held out a hand palm up and conjured a ball of Black fire. Staring at it, he said, “It's easier; before it would take longer to call up.”

Severus was entranced by the black flames playing in the brat's hand. “Does it not burn?”

Potter shook his head. “No, not at all. You can feel it if you'd like, it won't burn you either.”

Severus slowly reached towards the ball of flames; he could not feel any heat coming from the fire. He stuck one finger into the dancing flames. He felt them caressing his skin, but they did not burn him.

Severus pulled back his hand, unsure as to what he was feeling; the young man across from him was the most powerful wizard in the world. Yet the brat was seemingly unaware of the spectacular nature of his power. “You should practice clearing your mind every night, be sure to order new memories at the end of each day. Hopefully you will be able to sleep with fewer nightmares. Would you care for another drink?”

Harry doused the flames and said, “I'll get it, did you want one too?” At Snape's nod he poured them both another glass and retook his seat. “Thanks again, I really think this might work.” A little nervous about what Snape might have seen in his mind, he asked, “How much did you see?”

“Enough to know that I completely misjudged you. Aside from the atrocities you witnessed through your link with the Dark Lord, the behavior of your Muggle relatives alone would cause anyone nightmares.” Severus paused. Withdrawing his pack of cigarettes, he took one for himself and tossed the pack to Potter, conjuring an ashtray.

The two sat quietly for a couple of minutes, contemplatively smoking, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Severus spoke again, “You witnessed a few of my memories in our prior attempts at Occlumency, enough to form an assumption on my childhood. Your assumption would be correct; my father disliked the fact that my mother and I had power he did not. At the time they married my mother promised never to use her magic on him, and he took advantage of that and beat her. In the beginning it was only when he was intoxicated, which was infrequent. However, such things always progress. My mother forbid me from interfering, fearing what he would do to me if I should.”

Harry sat quietly. He had known Snape's father was violent, and it had to be awful not to be able to help your mum. He didn't voice his thoughts, however; he just sat smoking, afraid if he did anything else Snape would stop speaking. “My mother died when I was nine, and I was sent to live with my mother's parents. The Prince family is an old pure-blood family; my grandparents were appalled when their only daughter married a Muggle and treated me accordingly. They took me in and provided only the bare necessities. They paid for my education, but no extras.”

Severus paused to light another cigarette. Speaking of his childhood was painful; he normally tried to forget that period of his life completely. “I tell you this not for your pity, but so that when I say I understand, you will believe me. Never be ashamed, Potter, for you have no cause. Not for how you were raised − those filthy Muggles bear that shame. As my father and grandparents bear the shame for my childhood. While it cannot be erased, it can be overcome, and forgotten.”

Snape hadn't said a lot, but Harry could read between the lines. Snape's grandparents sounded a lot like the Dursleys, unable to tolerate anyone who did not fit their ideals. “I understand,” he murmured.

“Good. That said, I'm turning in. Don't forget to clear your mind. Sleep well, Potter.” With that, Snape was gone.

Harry called Dobby to clean up and headed upstairs, thinking about what Snape had revealed. Just when I think I understand the man he does something completely unpredictable. Why would he tell me all that? I'm glad he did, I understand him a little better. Was he trying to be fair? He saw my worst memories so he told me about his childhood in exchange? The more I get to know Snape the more we have in common. Merlin, I hope I don't turn into a grouchy git; the vocabulary would be nice though, was Harry's last thought before sleep took him.

Summer Passes

August 1996

Two days later Harry felt better; the Occlumency appeared to be working. Although only two nightmare-free nights had passed, Harry was hopeful. It was hard not to feel hopeful on such a bright summer morning, and Harry spent a few moments watching the birds play in the trees before dressing for the day. He'd just pulled on his usual loose draw-string pants and was reaching for his tee shirt when Gabriel burst into his bedroom. “Good morning, Harry. Severus sent me to tell you to hurry; we're having a breakfast meeting. So hurry up.”

“Tell him I'll be there when I get there.” Growling sleepily, Harry went into the loo, slamming the door to punctuate his ire. After taking care of morning business, Harry was brushing his teeth when he heard Snape call, “Potter, if you want coffee you'll have your lazy arse down here in the next sixty seconds.”

Quickly finishing up, Harry stomped down the stairs, finding coffee and company in the dinning room. Locating Snape, he snarled, “Don't threaten me with my own coffee, bastard.” He fixed himself a cup of morning salvation and found an empty chair, ignoring the laughter his comment provoked.

Nursing his coffee, Harry looked around the room, noting that the full Bar was present. Everyone was sitting around the table with coffee and breakfast, talking quietly. Pouring a second cup, Harry then filled his plate from the platters in the center of the table and ate his breakfast, mentally thanking Merlin he'd not been the one to prepare it. Awake now and fortified, Harry was ready to face whatever the group around him was planning. “What's with the breakfast party?” he asked.

Severus turned to Potter. “Back among the living now, brat?” He sneered. “We need to set up a schedule for your studies.”

Talk went around the table, as the men discussed who would help with each subject, when they were available and the level Harry was at in that subject. Two hours of arguments, insults and laughter later, all was decided. Since Snape was living with Harry, he would help Harry with Defense an hour each morning and hold an hour of Potions in the evening. This arrangement would, of course, change once they returned to Hogwarts.

On Mondays 2-5 Devlin would be there to teach Transfiguration, Tuesdays 10-12 Vane would work with Harry to improve his dueling skills. Wednesdays were for wizard traditions and theoretical Dark Magic with Luc 1-4. On Thursdays Spencer would begin teaching Harry what he needed to know to run his estates, and Fridays Spencer would tutor Harry in Charms. Saturday mornings were set aside for Sebastian, who would help Harry gain control over his wandless magic.

Besides Snape, Harry would be seeing the most of Gabriel: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings for Blade training, and Saturday afternoons spent learning warding. When Harry looked over his schedule, he was relieved to find that at least Sunday was free. “What, no time set aside for homework?” he asked sarcastically.

Snape raised an eyebrow and drawled lazily, “That's why you have Sunday free.”

Harry banged his head on the table and muttered, “Sadists. I'd be better off with Voldemort as a tutor,” eliciting laughter from the group.

Two weeks later Harry remembered his comment, now knowing beyond a doubt that Voldemort would have been kinder. He found Transfigurations with Devlin interesting; he learned a lot with the individual attention. But Devlin really was a bastard, and he pushed Harry to his limit. Harry often left the lesson with a concentration headache.

There was one funny moment, however, on the first day. Devlin had Harry transfigure a pillow into a snake, and when the snake hissed something Harry laughed and hissed back. Devlin's mouth fell open and he shouted, “Severus, come here. You'll never believe this.”

Snape strode into the room a moment later. “Why are you screaming like a demented toddler, Devlin?” he demanded.

“Hush. Just wait a minute; Luc will want to see this too.” Devlin rushed to the fireplace and made a hurried firecall to Sinister Place. Severus looked over at Potter and raised an eyebrow in question; the brat just nodded towards the snake. Understanding what caused Devlin's reaction, Severus couldn't keep the smug smirk off his face.

Less than a minute later Devlin stood up and stepped back to allow Luc to step through the Floo. “Now what was so important that you had to interrupt my research?” Luc asked sulkily.

Pointing at the snake and then at Harry, Devlin said, “The boy's a Parselmouth, he was talking to the damned snake. Harry, show them.”

Harry obliged, hissing a `hello, how are you?' to the snake, which caused Luc to sit hard in the nearby armchair and moan, “A Parselmouth, Black Magic, surviving the killing curse, killing Voldemort… by Merlin, brat, can you never be normal?”

Snape laughed so hard he had to sit on the couch. Harry turned to him. “I thought everyone knew. It was all over school second year, and wasn't it in the papers?”

Devlin whirled around and demanded, “Severus, you knew? Why didn't you tell us?”

Severus composed himself; he always loved knowing more than others. “Potter, the headmaster never allowed word to get out. At that time the papers wouldn't print the story without confirmation, which was not forthcoming. And yes, Devlin, I had the privilege of hearing Potter speaking in Parseltongue firsthand in his second year.”

Harry sat at the other end of the couch. “That was when everyone went around saying I was the heir of Slytherin, and the whole diary of Tom Riddle thing happened. Not to mention the Basilisk.”

All three of the older men stared at Harry in shock. It was Severus who asked, “There actually was a Basilisk? What happened to it?”

“Didn't Dumbledore tell you? Tom Riddle's sixteen year old memory set it on me; Fawkes brought me the sword of Gryffindor, but when I stabbed it the damned thing bit me. If it wasn't for Fawkes I would have died. Thought I was dying, so I took the Basilisk tooth out of my arm and stabbed ol' Tom's diary. Never would have guessed poking a fang though a book would have made him dissolve like that. But it worked and Ginny was fine.” Harry told the brief version to three stunned men.

Devlin summed up all their thoughts. “You are the most unusual kid I've ever met; you killed a Basilisk at twelve? Was it fully grown?”

Turning to Snape, Harry asked, “I don't know, how big are they when they're grown? The one down there was about forty feet, I would guess.”

Snape shook his head. “It was fully grown, Potter.” Snape's voice sounded strained.

If Devlin was a bastard, then Vane was relentless. Harry spent more time picking himself up off the floor after being hit with a hex or curse in lessons with Vane than he ever had during DADA. Vane certainly deserved his Mastery in Dueling. It soon became clear to Harry that he had a lot to learn before he would pose any real competition to Vane. The older man's knowledge of advanced spells and his skill at strategy far surpassed Harry's. Vane was unrelenting but patient as he taught Harry both. In return, Harry was putting forth his very best effort. He was aware that this skill could very well save his life.

Wizarding traditions were as boring as the Dark Arts were fascinating. The Dark Arts were on occasion gruesome, often required a high price to use, but they were nevertheless intriguing. Harry was pleased to hear they were only working on the theory for now; he wasn't sure about actually using them. Luc was an excellent teacher, funny and well-versed in the subject, due to his passion for the Dark Arts. Harry was learning a surprising amount of the History of Magic in the process, discovering just how closely related the two were.

While Luc managed to teach Harry a great deal, he was still an irritating prat. The bloody man teased and tormented Harry at every turn. However, knowing Luc didn't mean any of the mocking comments, Harry always felt free to send a `Fuck off, Luc' the bastard's way.

Spencer, Harry decided, was a demon. The man knew more about finances and estates than Harry had ever believed there was to know. They spent Thursday mornings buried in numbers and financial strategies, and Harry's mind reeled at all the information Spencer poured out. On those days the man had a one track mind − money. Fridays were much better. Charms were something Spencer enjoyed, but they were not his passion like the financial world. He actually reminded Harry of Professor Flitwick in those lessons, easygoing and fun.

Learning to control his wandless magic was going to kill him, Harry moaned after the first lesson. Sebastian confiscated his wand then proceeded to laze about on the couch and instruct Harry to summon everything: a pillow to relax on, a blanket for Sebastian's legs, a glass and some brandy. Harry spent most of the lesson muttering about the `lazy bastard making him do his work,' and attempting to follow directions. It got worse; Sebastian decreed that the best way for Harry to learn was not to have his wand on hand. Snape was now in possession of said wand; the wand was given to Harry at the beginning of lessons requiring it and handed back to Snape after lessons.

Out of all of them, Gabriel was the worst. He yelled, and he pushed Harry around the training room at the point of a sword. Harry spent more time in the bath soaking sore muscles after blade practice than he ever had after Quidditch practice. He was convinced that he would never master a sword; it was too unwieldy, and he felt bloody awkward trying to swing it. Knives were a different matter altogether, and the first time he wielded one felt like the first time he was on a broom. Give him a dagger and he was a natural, and the shorter blade felt like it belonged in his hand. That didn't stop Gabriel from mopping the floor with him, but he was confident that with knives at least he could one day equal his teacher. He was quite looking forward to that day.

Warding was interesting, and Harry diligently learned all he could, the thought of being able to protect his home and the homes of his loved ones spurring him on. Gabriel was extremely knowledgeable and eager to share that knowledge. Harry had a notebook full of warding spells and he practiced them at every opportunity, determined to master the skill as soon as he could.

At first Potions with Snape were tense, because Harry could not help the trepidation that he felt. Potions had always been a difficult subject for him, both academically and because of the tension in the classroom. However, Snape was true to his word, and he and Harry worked together to determine the recipe instructions that worked best for Harry.

Snape also took the time to demonstrate each potion before expecting Harry to make it. Harry soon discovered why the man was a Potions master − he was truly gifted. Harry never saw Snape so much as glance at book while brewing even the most complex potions. Snape would also adjust his potions depending on the freshness and size of the ingredients, and he promised that before Harry took his N.E.W.T's Harry would be able to do the same.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been Harry's best subject at school; it was no different now. Harry seemed to have a gift for it. Snape was still quick to insult, but much of the heat had gone out of the snarky words, and their relationship had progressed to the point were Harry could answer insult with insult and neither man minded in the least. In fact, they both enjoyed the verbal sparring.

Harry discovered that in DADA Snape was an excellent teacher. Apparently he hated that so many students disdained the Potions which were Snape's abiding passion, but Defense was more of a hobby. A lifelong interest in the Dark Arts naturally translated into a well-honed defense against them. Snape was able to teach Harry more about Defense in a short two weeks than Harry had learned in his first two years combined.

One week before Snape and Harry were due to return to Hogwarts to prepare for the coming school term, the two sat on the porch enjoying a quiet evening. Harry lounged on the porch swing, his foot on the ground occasionally pushing the swing. Smoking contemplatively, he thought about what he'd accomplished in such a short time. Relaxing in a wicker chair, bare feet on the porch railing, Snape was reading a potions manual. Harry raised his head and looked over to where Snape was reading. “I've been thinking,” he started.

Severus never looked up from his book. “Ah, and here I thought it was the fag I smelt burning,” he drawled.

“Be quiet, git, I want to have a party before we go back to Hogwarts,” Harry stated.

“It is your house; you don't need my permission to entertain. If you would be so kind as to keep the noise to a reasonable level, I would appreciate it,” Severus replied.

“I wasn't asking permission, I want you to be there. I'm planning to invite the Bar, and the Weasleys, Tonks and Remus, and Hermione. I was thinking this Sunday; that way it won't interfere with my studies.” Crushing out his cigarette, Harry waited for Snape's response.

Severus glanced up. “With such an esteemed guest list it would be churlish of me to decline your gracious invitation, so long as the Weasley twins' antics are controlled,” he drawled.

Rolling his eyes, Harry complained, “Can't you just say `yes, that sounds fine' instead of all the big words? And I'll tell Fred and George that there are no pranks allowed.”

“As you are able to comprehend my `big words', why does it matter if I choose to make use of such vocabulary? I enjoy words and the unlimited variety of combinations. Your party is a fine idea. What time were you planning to hold this engagement?” Severus closed his book and gave his attention to Potter.

Harry sat up and sipped his own tea. “About six. I need to pick up a few things beforehand, though. So, I was wondering, maybe we could go out? I know it's not safe for me to go alone,” he said quickly, hoping Snape would agree.

After a moment's thought, Snape nodded. “Well, I can always use fresh ingredients. Where do you wish to do your shopping, Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade?” Severus queried.

“Either will work, but I like Diagon Alley better. Why?” Harry asked, relieved.

“It would be wise to inform Lupin and a few other trusted people of our excursion; more eyes are always welcome in Diagon Alley,” Severus said seriously. “I will inform Lupin this evening. We can go tomorrow after your lesson with Spencer, if that suits you.”

“I had forgotten the streams of screaming brats present in Diagon Alley so close to the start of term. Potter, make your purchases quickly, I do not wish to spend my last days of freedom from these dunderheads in their presence,” Severus growled. Diagon Alley was overflowing with obnoxious children and their equally obnoxious parents, all shopping for the upcoming term.

Obeying for once in his life, Potter walked faster to their destination. The house-wares shop was less crowded as they sold no school supplies; after giving his list to the shopkeeper, Potter made his decisions on plates and glasses quickly. Apparently the elder Potters had not entertained often, and the house lacked a sufficient number of place settings, given everyone Potter had invited planned to attend.

Dobby had already procured the necessary groceries, and Harry and Snape had picked up a significant supply of alcohol and wine. The dishes were the last stop of the day. Soon, Harry turned to Snape, saying, “That's it, we can go home now.”

Exiting the shop, the two men walked up Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron, intent on Flooing home. They stopped short, however, when blood-curdling screams sounded behind them. Harry whirled around and his blood chilled. “Dementors,” was all he could whisper.

“Yes, and it appears some of my ex-compatriots are controlling them.” Severus quickly took in the situation. “The one on the left is Greyback, a werewolf; next to him is Goyle, I believe. The other two are the Carrows, if my guess is correct. If you would attempt to drive away the dementors, I will distract the Death Eaters until Lupin and the others arrive, they should be close by.”

Harry didn't bother to respond, charging towards the dementors surrounding a group of kids. As he ran he pulled out his wand; once he was within range, he called out, “Expecto Patronum!”

The silvery stag erupted from his wand and charged the dementors. Catching one beneath where its ribs should be, Prongs tossed the dementor high in the air. Turning from the frightened children, the remaining dementors glided towards Harry. Prongs intercepted them, circling around them and gathering them in an ever closing circle. Seeing no mercy and no way to feed, the dementors floated away.

Meanwhile, Severus dodged the mob of fleeing people, keeping the Death Eaters in sight. Ducking behind a barrel that smelled of frog entrails, he slowly made his way behind his former comrades. Once in position, he stunned Goyle who was standing closest to him, smirking when the others failed to notice their fallen colleague. Taking advantage of the distraction the screaming hordes made, Severus snuck closer.

One of the Carrows − he never could tell them apart − spotted Potter. Hearing the man start the killing curse, Severus gave up his hiding spot and dove at the masked man, hitting him in the mid-section. While this action stopped the curse, it gave the other Death Eaters a chance to curse him, which they took with alacrity. Upon hearing the downed man's impact with the ground, Greyback turned and yelled, “Crucio.” The curse hit Severus and the Carrow brother he landed on.

Harry sighed in relief when the dementors fled; looking around for Snape, he watched as the idiot man jumped a Death Eater. The big Death Eater in tight robes nearby hit them with a curse. Hearing Snape's initial outcry, which was quickly silenced, Harry took off running once again.

Drawing near the Death Eaters Harry drew forth a ball of the Black Fire and threw it at the big Death Eater, causing the man to drop his wand and end the curse. Harry thought it was the one Snape called Greyback. The Death Eater lunged at Harry suddenly; there was no time for Harry to dodge.

Greyback landed on him and laughed. Harry shoved at the heavy man's chest, rolling and bucking, trying to dislodge him, but the Death Eater was too heavy. Greyback leaned close and Harry could smell his fetid breath and see the yellowed teeth; just before the teeth reached his neck, the weight was suddenly gone.

Quickly rolling away, Harry watched as Remus kicked Greyback repeatedly. The Death Eater lay on his side, curled up to protect his ribs. Leaving Remus with his prey, Harry found Tonks dueling with an unknown Death Eater. Seeing that she had the upper hand, he went to help Snape up. Pulling the older man to his feet, Harry couldn't help but remark, “That was an awfully Gryffindor move you pulled, jumping on that guy like that.”

Severus flinched at what he considered the ultimate insult, but couldn't disagree. “Shut up, Potter, and bind these two incompetents while I attempt to pull your pet werewolf away before he kills Greyback.”

Limping to Lupin, Severus had to physically pull him off the unconscious form on the ground. “Lupin, he is not going anywhere, control yourself or do you need a choke chain?”

“The filthy bastard tried to bite Harry.” Lupin struggled against Snape's hold. “He's the one that infected me; no way in hell was I going to let him get his filthy paws on him. Where is Harry, is he okay?” Panting, Remus fought to control his urge to kill the fallen werewolf.

“Potter is fine; he appears to have escaped without a scratch. Bind the mangy creature. Your paramour is binding hers and Potter has taken care of the other two. The Ministry Aurors should be arriving soon.” Severus made his way back to Potter. “Are you injured?” he asked the young man.

Harry looked up at Snape. “I don't think so. My back's a little sore from hitting the dirt with that heavy bastard on top of me, but other than that I'm fine.”

Harry glanced around the street; people were no longer running, but instead staring at them. He could see a group of red-robed Aurors pushing through the crowd towards them. “I hope to Merlin we don't have to go to the Ministry to describe what happened. Think they'll take Tonks's word for it?”

“Not a chance in hell,” was the response, and it proved true. The prisoners were transported to holding cells and the four defenders were taken to the Ministry for questioning. Harry watched in amusement as Snape ruthlessly turned the tables on the Aurors and questioned them on what the Ministry knew about the attack.

It turned out that Sturgis Podmore was unhappy that he ended up in Azkaban. He felt the Order and Dumbledore should have done more to prevent it. Podmore overheard Remus telling Tonks about the planned outing and let it slip to one of the Carrows as his revenge against the Order. Podmore was quickly arrested and held for trial with the Death Eaters. Harry and Severus spent four hours telling the story of the attack and answering questions, until finally they were allowed to go home.

Though it was late by the time they arrived, neither man was ready to go to sleep, and they sat companionably in the living room, smoking and sipping good scotch. After several minutes, Severus spoke, “I was impressed today; you followed direction and disposed of the dementors on your own.”

“I also want to express my thanks for your assistance with Greyback.” Severus had no intention of telling Potter why he had needed the assistance. There was no need to let the brat know just how far Severus would go to protect him.

“You don't need to thank me, we'll call it even. Remus told me the guy you jumped was trying to kill me. You saved my life again.”

Damn the brat and his werewolf, thought Snape. “I was unaware he was aiming the curse at you. Nevertheless, I would have done the same for anyone.” There was no way Severus was going to admit to caring what happened to the brat.

The amused, knowing grin he received in response was not reassuring. “I left a bruise reducing potion in your room,” he drawled, keeping a calm façade. “Take it tonight before you sleep; it should prevent any lingering soreness tomorrow.”

Harry didn't know why Snape kept acting like he did, but it didn't matter. Harry was happy Snape didn't hate him and would look out for him. The way Harry saw it, they were friends and that's what friends did for each other. Look out for each other, and give each other bruise potions. “Thanks, Severus, I'm going up now. Night.” He left the other man brooding by the fire.

It was Sunday; the weather was warm and the summer night clear. Harry was excited about his first party and he couldn't stop fidgeting. His guests would be arriving soon, and he'd already double checked everything. Dobby had outdone himself. The food was set up buffet style so everyone could eat when they wanted to, the drinks were ready to be poured, and the house was spotless.

Harry had dressed in black slacks and a green button up shirt with a set of his new black robes undone over them. Wandering into the living room, he sat down; a couple of minutes later, Snape walked in, dressed in robes much more casual than he wore at school. The black robes were open over black slacks and a starched white shirt. “Why don't you dress like that at school?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Not intimidating enough?”

Rolling his eyes, Severus drawled, “My teaching robes are spelled to protect against whatever concoction the idiots manage to blow up. The fact that they lend a menacing aurora is merely a coincidence.”

Severus looked over the young man before him; the brat managed to appear neatly groomed for once. “Luc did a marvelous job with your wardrobe,” he admitted. “Tell me, Potter, who taught you to control the rat's nest you call hair?”

“When it grew longer it got easier to deal with, and Gabriel taught me how to pull it up when I wanted to.” Just as Harry finished his comment, the doorbell rang, and he hopped up and smoothed down his robes.

Taking a deep breath to tamper down the nervous excitement, he opened the door to the Weasley clan and Hermione. While he was greeting his friends and family, Remus and Tonks joined them, followed shortly by the Bar Sinister. Harry was a little nervous about how his old friends would mix with his new ones.

An hour later all his fears were laid to rest, as the two groups mingled surprisingly well. Hermione had cornered Spencer and was grilling him about wizard accounting, and Ron and Sebastian were arguing Quidditch teams.

The twins were trying to pick Snape's brain for ideas for new products; Remus and Devlin were happily engaged in a discussion about Animagus transformations. It seemed Gabriel knew a lot about Muggles and was glad to share his findings with Mr. Weasley; Mrs. Weasley was being charmed by Luc.

Tonks and Vane appeared to be comparing Auror strategies. Harry was pleased everyone was getting along; he sat happily with Ginny, talking about what he had learned, and listening to her plans for the upcoming term. Soon everyone headed for the dinning room and refreshments.

Severus was enjoying a quiet corner, relieved to have escaped the twin terrors, when he was joined by Devlin and Vane. Devlin spoke first, “Harry has loyal friends. He seems to inspire loyalty in those around him.”

Severus sipped his drink and raised his eyebrow, wondering where this conversation was heading. “He appears unaware of it,” Vane elaborated. “Frankly, he seems surprised that everyone agreed to attend tonight. How can a young man with such potential and power be so completely overwhelmed by the mere fact that we would willingly spend our free time with him? We've all noticed how grateful he is for our help. He thanks us after every lesson.”

“His filthy Muggle relatives raised him as a burden; they called him `freak' and `boy' most of the time,” Severus spat, his face showing his disgust with Potter's aunt and uncle.

“Severus, I didn't know you still thought Muggles to be inferior.” Luc joined the group in time to hear the last comment.

“Not all Muggles, just those filthy creatures that raised Potter. I had to merge our minds to teach him Occlumency, and I saw what they did to him. They used him as a house-elf; Potter was responsible for breakfast at five,” he said bitterly. “The brat couldn't even reach the stove without aid of a stool. When they were not in need of a verbal punching bag or a servant, they locked him away or ignored him. Why he's not taking the place of the Dark Lord is a mystery to me,” Severus growled.

The three members of the Bar looked aghast. “Did they beat him?” asked Devlin.

Severus refilled his glass before answering, “It's a small mercy they did not. I saw nothing beyond neglect and verbal abuse. Mostly punishment came in the form of denying him food or locking him in a cupboard.” He sighed, admitting softly, “What I believed to be arrogance, being so sure he could do it himself, turned out to be self-reliance. Potter has never had anyone to rely on. I did him a grave disservice by judging him so harshly based on his father. The brat's nothing like James Potter beyond a certain recklessness. In fact, his temper and fierce protectiveness is more like Lily.”

Devlin studied Severus closely for a minute before speaking. “So that's the reason behind your attitude towards him. When you first brought him to us it was a business agreement. Now you treat him like you do us, like a friend.”

Devlin ignored the glare Severus shot at him. “Don't worry, my old friend, your secret is safe with us, but the boy will discover it on his own. Harry Potter is surprisingly perceptive. If you ever decide to go after the Muggles, let us know, we'll help. Now I have a gift to give a young man, if you'll excuse me.”

Severus damned the fact that Devlin knew him so well, but he wasn't prepared to carry out his revenge on the Muggles yet. Luc recognized the expression on his friend's face. “You don't plan to kill the Muggles, do you?” he asked curiously.

Severus leveled a glare at him. “Of course not. That would call too much attention; I only intend to make them miserable.”

Harry snuck out the front door; he didn't want to hear Mrs. Weasley or Hermione lecture him about smoking right now. He was in too good a mood. Leaning against the wall, he lit his cigarette and took a drag when he heard booted feet approaching. Turning, he saw Devlin walking towards him. “If you don't plan to lecture me about the evils of smoking, you can stay,” he grumbled at the older man.

Devlin gave him a wicked smile. “Mr. Potter, far be it from me to lecture about corrupting the youth. I gave Gabriel his first fag when he was fifteen. Actually, I intended to ask if I could beg one from you. I was unaware smoking was allowed here and neglected to bring my own.”

Taking out the pack, Harry tossed it to Devlin who withdrew a cigarette and tossed it back. Harry relaxed, enjoying the warm evening and the knowledge his friends were nearby when Devlin spoke again. “Gabriel says you enjoy knives and that you show a great deal of aptitude in wielding them. I don't know if you're aware, but daggers happen to be my weapon of choice, besides my wand.” Devlin eyed Harry speculatively before adding, “Very few wizards are interested in knives. Most choose the sword; it's flashier and more socially acceptable. Daggers are considered an assassin's tool.”

Harry looked up at Devlin, taking in the pale green eyes studying him. “The sword is okay, it's just it feels awkward, too big. But the knives feel right, like they fit or belong.”

Nodding, Devlin said, “Yet Gabriel says you have a sword tattooed on your back.”

Harry took another drag. “It's a symbol, that I'm a weapon, not my weapon of choice. Before I started training with Gabriel I'd never held anything but a sword.” With a sigh, Harry continued, “While a dagger wouldn't have done me much good against that Basilisk, there aren't many of those around. Since I spend so much time fighting wizards I'd rather have a dagger.”

Devlin nodded and smoked his cigarette; they stood in companionable silence for several minutes until Devlin seemed to reach a decision. He reached in his pocket and withdrew a wooden box, enlarging it.

The box was a little over a foot long and four inches thick. Opening it, Devin slowly approached Harry. Inside were two matching silver daggers, about twelve inches in length, with wickedly sharp blades. The blades gleamed in the moonlight and Harry could see the grips were shaped like a coiled snake − the tail making up the guard and the head the pommel, with two small emeralds for the eyes.

Harry stared appreciatively at them and whispered, “They're beautiful.”

Devlin agreed. “Yes, but very deadly.”

Harry looked away from the knives and up at Devlin. “That's what I meant; I've never seen anything that is both beautiful and deadly before.”

Devlin snorted. “Look in the mirror sometime, kid.” Harry shook his head at the comment.

Closing the box, Devlin secured the hasp before handing it to Harry. “They belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. If you look closely at the blades, you can see SS engraved on them. I want you to have them. It's only fitting, you killed Slytherin's monster and inherited the gift he was famous for. Now use Slytherin's blades to protect yourself.”

Harry stood in shock for a long minute before sputtering, “I can't accept them. They are probably priceless. They belong in a museum on display or something.” Harry tried to hand the box containing the precious blades back to Devlin.

Laughing, Devlin stuck his hands in his pockets. “They belong to you now, Harry. I can think of no one more deserving.” Having said what he wanted, Devlin walked back into the house, leaving a dumbstruck Harry Potter holding the box.

When Harry regained his wits, he carefully shrunk the box with the daggers, placed it in his pocket, and went to find Snape. Hopefully he could convince Devlin to take them back. Harry didn't feel he deserved such a gift.

It took Harry a while to track Snape down. He had to stop several times to talk to friends. Mrs. Weasley's interrogation on his eating habits took quite a bit of time to escape, but with the help of the twins he managed. Finally he located Snape in the breakfast room, having an intense discussion with Luc.

Not wanting to interrupt but desperately needing to talk to the man, Harry spoke up. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but, Severus, I really need to talk to you, it's important.”

Noticing Potter's serious expression and his fidgeting, Severus asked, “Luc, if you would excuse us for a moment.”

Gracefully excusing himself, Luc left the room. Potter, however, still stood in the doorway, looking desperate and uncomfortable. “Potter, sit. Speak,” Severus snapped out.

The brat all but collapsed in the chair Luc just vacated. Pulling a plain wooden box from his pocket he shoved it across to Severus, saying, “Devlin just gave me those, and he won't take them back. Severus, you have to make him take them back. I don't deserve them, and they're too bloody expensive. What was he thinking giving them to me?”

Tuning out Potter's ranting, Severus opened the box. Upon seeing the contents, he complained, “Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter, bring me a drink before you spring shite like this on me. In fact, why don't you go get us both a drink.”

Potter left the room; hopefully the brat would bring the whole bottle. What was Devlin thinking? Giving a sixteen year old Slytherin's daggers? The blades could be dipped in the most potent of poisons. They are meant for someone who needs such protection not a… wait, that's why the infuriating man did it. Potter of all people needs that kind of protection. The brat doesn't want them? No, he said he didn't deserve them. He doesn't seem to realize that the Bar has accepted them as one of their own… hell, I didn't realize until tonight.

Harry did bring the bottle, and after pouring Snape a glass he poured himself a healthy measure and sipped it, even though he wanted to gulp it straight from the bottle. He waited to Snape to say something. Snape took a couple of gulps, looking locked in thought. Finally, he looked up at Harry. “Potter, try to understand that Devlin and the others consider you one of their own now,” he said softly. “Therefore they would do and give anything to protect you. These blades are just the physical evidence of that. If you were to give them back, or if I were to do it for you, it would be a rejection of them. Surely that is not what you have in mind.”

Harry was speechless; while he felt closer to the Bar than he'd ever felt towards anyone else in such a short time, he couldn't believe that powerful men like that would consider him one of them. “No! I don't want to reject them, but why? They're all… powerful and… smart. How in the world can I be their equal, why would they want me?”

Severus shook his head before speaking in an exasperated tone, “Potter… Harry, you are not a stupid person. I, for one, would not be here if you were. You know you're powerful. Perhaps you are not fully trained, but the power is there. And as much as I loathe admitting it, you are… intelligent. Stop letting the lies those filthy Muggles filled your head with dictate your life.”

“You are free of them and in a position to define yourself, as you truly are not what you've been led to believe whether by your foul relations or the headmaster.” Severus handed the box back to Potter and left the brat to think about what he'd said.

Harry did not try to return the daggers, and after his guests left and the house was put to rights, Harry spent a long time thinking about Snape's comments. Maybe he was right. Maybe Harry really did deserve to belong, and to define himself. But what did he want that definition to be?

Return to Hogwarts

September 1996

The trip to Hogwarts was anticlimactic without the train ride and the carriages. Harry and Snape simply Apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade and walked the rest of the way unencumbered, having sent Dobby ahead with their things. It was strange to think of his new clothes being unpacked in a room he'd never seen before and not the Gryffindor dorms. Nevertheless the sense of homecoming was present for Harry as it had always been upon entering Hogwarts.

The empty hallways and deserted classrooms they walked through were another new sensation for Harry, as they made their way to Snape's chamber. “I didn't realize how loud it was during term, are we really that noisy?”

Severus snorted at the question. “Yes, Potter, with hundreds of squalling dunderheads all contained within stone walls, the noise level is astronomical. And provoke equally large migraines.”

“The noise or the dunderheads?” Harry asked.

Snape stopped at a door Harry vaguely remembered from a month earlier before replying, `both, Potter.' Snape tapped the wooden door with his wand saying, `Infinitus Obvius.' Harry was floored, he recognized the words from his warding lessons with Gabriel; he was being given access to every ward in the castle tied to Snape. Laying his palm on the door, Harry felt the warm tingle of magic run across his skin.

Severus watched as Potter was added to the wards, aware the brat knew how much access he'd just been granted. But the damn brat had earned his trust and while he would not admit it aloud, he was willing to show it, in this at least. All Severus said was, “I dislike passwords; they are easily overcome. Other than you and me, only the headmaster is keyed to enter this door uninvited. I would prefer to keep it that way.”

“Of course, the less people with access the better, I think. How often does Dumbledore come down here?” Harry glanced around the room as they entered; it was as he remembered − elegant yet inviting.

“Rarely in the past. I believe with you safely ensconced at Hogwarts he will be relatively content to allow you to come to him.” Severus removed his cloak and hung it neatly on the coat rack. Pointing out a newly added door, he spoke again, “That is your room; feel free to decorate as you wish. I will be in my classroom. When you are settled, please meet me there.”

Harry nodded his agreement and eagerly went to explore his new room. The large four-poster bed with navy blue hangings pleased him, as did the cozy sitting area near a large fireplace. There was an ample sized wardrobe housing his clothes, and his broomstick rested on a nearby walnut desk which had a matching chair.

Harry wound his way through the dungeon corridors to Snape's classroom, happy he avoided getting lost. Entering the room, he took up his usual seat and watched Snape organizing the storage cabinet for a moment before asking, “Do you need any help?”

“Not at the moment.” Severus shifted one more vial and turned to Potter. “I wish to ask a favor of you. You are in no way obligated to do as I ask.”

“If I can help I will.” Harry was beginning to understand; when Snape felt uncomfortable he lapsed into that formal speech.

“Given the intensity of your studies and the time it will require, if you would assist me with some of my classroom duties I would find it beneficial.” Severus maintained his impassive façade.

“You trust me helping with your classes?” It was all Harry could do to keep his mouth from gaping open.

Frustrated with the brat, Severus snapped, “No, Potter, I often ask assistance from untrustworthy, unskilled simpletons.” Reining in his temper, he added, “Your skills have improved dramatically; you would only be helping with the lower years, of course.”

Relieved that Snape was sniping at him again, Harry hastened to say, “I'd be happy to help. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking that perhaps you could grade the lower years' essays. In addition, if you would be willing to supervise the dunderheads whilst they brew I could grade the upper year's assignments.” Severus settled himself behind his desk, content now that Potter agreed to help. “That should free up sufficient time for me to tutor you as intensively as will be needed.”

Harry knew that helping him was taking up a lot of Snape's time and was willing to help out however he could. “Thanks again for the apprenticeship thing,” he offered.

Severus waved away the needless thanks. “I think that first through third year assignments will be your domain, same with the supervision.”

Rummaging through his desk, he located a long-unused lesson plan. Handing it to Potter, he added, “If you look this over it will give you an indication of what is covered. No doubt those years have leaked from the sieve you call a brain.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the casually offered insult and took the lesson plan. “For your information, I still remember the speech you gave first year. Have it written down somewhere in fact.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Indeed.” That speech was unforgettable and with all the work he'd put into it he was pleased to know at least one student remembered it.

The two men spent the next few hours setting up the classroom for the coming term. They worked surprisingly well together. Insults from Snape were only to be expected but Harry was now free to give all the cheeky responses he'd suppressed over the years, detention no longer a threat. Stomach rumbling, Harry asked, “When's dinner?”

Severus glanced over at the clock; he was surprised to see how much time had passed. Potter was surprisingly good company and the time had flown. “We can go down now; Dumbledore expects the staff to dine together before term.” Pleased with how much had been accomplished, Severus ushered Potter out the door and down the hall. “We will be gathering in the staff dining room.”

They quickly made their way. Just before the two reached the door Harry asked, “Will anyone be telling dirty jokes tonight?”

Severus could not contain his laugh as he opened the door, startling the gathered staff. Being the recipient of so many incredulous stares did not sit well with Severus; he glared and snapped, “Oh for Merlin's sake, is a man not allowed to laugh now? You look like a horde of imbecilic insects.” He stalked over to an empty chair and sat ignoring everyone.

Harry had to bite his lip to refrain from laughter of his own. He quickly sat beside Snape, wanting to avoid the headmaster. A shadow caught his attention, and Harry looked up at Hagrid. Relieved, he smiled at his old friend. “How's it going, Hagrid?”

Hagrid sat heavily in the chair next to Harry and thumped the young man's back hard enough to cause Harry to brace his hands on the table to avoid a painful collision with his dinner plate. “Everthin' is just fine, Harry. Glad to see ya getting along with Professor Snape so well.”

A quick check to see if his spine was still intact later, Harry answered, “Professor Snape isn't so bad, if you ignore the insults. And the glares.” The comment earned him one of those glares from Snape, but luckily he was spared the insult as dinner appeared.

Severus ate his meal, ignoring the inquiring glances from the headmaster. Several of the other professors risked speaking to him in light of his obvious friendship with Potter, but he ignored all except Minerva as she was sitting next to him. “You may as well ask your question,” he growled out. “It sours my digestion to have you stare at me.”

Minerva McGonagall gave a snort and turned her sternest look towards Severus. “As sour as you are I doubt anything could accomplish that feat.” Taking a sip of his wine, Severus waited for her to continue.

“Since you asked so politely, tell me, what in Merlin's name is going on between you, Albus and Potter?” Minerva abandoned all pretense of eating and turned to face her colleague.

Setting down his own fork, Severus gave his longtime friend the answer she deserved. “Albus refuses to accept that Potter is capable of making his own decisions. I offered the brat an apprenticeship, he accepted. The headmaster is… perturbed that Potter will not be attending Hogwarts formally.” Severus refilled his wine glass and awaited the questions Minerva was sure to have, Minerva always had questions.

“And why would you of all people offer Harry an apprenticeship?” Minerva held the black eyes, searching for an answer. “I was under the impression you disliked the 'brat'.”

Severus sighed. She would not relent until she was satisfied, Potter had been in her house and she was fiercely protective. “I do not wish to go into the details at dinner, suffice to say Potter and I have resolved our differences.” He picked up his fork again, saying, “Really, Minerva, I am capable of changing my opinion.”

“Humph, I know that, Severus. Harry is a bright young man I'm sure he will do well under your tutelage.” Minerva turned to her own meal. “I will be talking to you about those details later.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You are welcome to join me in my rooms for a drink after dinner.”

Snape was the master of timing. Waiting till Minerva had a mouthful of wine, he grinned wickedly and said, “You should be aware, I informed Potter of your predilections for raunchy jokes.” The resulting choking was truly satisfying.

The week passed quickly for Harry, his lessons with Snape and the Bar continued as usual. While he was looking forward to seeing his friends the next evening, he could not help the nervousness the thought of his first public appearance since defeating Voldemort brought. Harry sat in an armchair before the fire in Snape's living room, attempting unsuccessfully to read a book.

Severus emerged from his bedroom, having changed out of his work attire, to find Potter once again distracted. Something had to be done. He cleared his throat and watched in amusement as the young man jumped. “Potter, I have to speak with the headmaster. I will see you at dinner.”

He heard Potter's affirmative response as he walked out the door. Walking to the headmaster's office, he went over the conversation he planned to have with the old coot. Albus must be convinced to see reason. Potter will not confide his fears to me, Albus has always been the brat's confidant. Now to ensure that relationship continues. Hopefully the old man will be reasonable. If not, I will set Minerva on him; she was suitably appalled at Albus' behavior. Severus reached the gargoyle, gave another ridiculous password, `Chocoballs', and rode the stone steps up to the office.

Severus had not scheduled this meeting, not wanting to give Albus time to marshal any arguments, so he knocked on the door unannounced. He barely refrained from flinching when he heard, “Professor Snape, please come in.” Albus only used his title when annoyed. Severus took a bracing breath; this promised to be a painful meeting.

“Headmaster,” Severus greeted the old man in kind. Inclining his head towards his preferred seat he asked, “May I?”

“Please, Professor Snape, be seated.” Severus struggled to control his temper; the old coot was trying his patience. “Headmaster… Albus, if any of my recent actions have caused you pain, I ask your forgiveness as that was never my intention.”

Albus expelled a huff of air. “Severus, I am not angry, simply very confused. There is nothing to ask forgiveness for.” The headmaster relaxed a fraction in his chair before asking, “Would you like a cup of tea? I promise to leave out the calming draught.”

Severus settled more comfortably in his seat. “Thank you, tea sounds good.”

The headmaster waved his hand and a tea set appeared on the desk. The two men spent a moment preparing their cups. Albus sipped at his tea before asking, “Severus, if you would just tell me why. Why did you stop me from protecting Harry?”

Severus crossed his legs, resting his teacup on his knee. “Albus, you must accept Potter is an adult. Not only in the eyes of the law; the brat has grown up. He had no other choice.”

“He is only sixteen; he's still a child…” Albus began.

Severus cut off that line of thought. “Albus, he is not a child. Potter has faced more than most fully trained wizards. He is not the same Golden Boy that left Hogwarts at the end of last term, surely you can see that.”

“Then I have failed him, as I did you,” Albus said with deep sigh.

Severus gave a resigned sigh. “You never failed me. I damned myself. But that is not pertinent now; I will not deny that you made mistakes regarding Potter.”

Albus flinched. One could always count on Severus to give the honest truth, especially when it hurt. “My mistakes cost Harry his childhood. Yes, I understand now, Severus.”

Severus took another sip of tea. “Albus, the situation is not hopeless. Potter is much too forgiving. If you own up to your failings, I have no doubt the brat will forgive you in time.”

The barest twinkle started in the headmaster's blue eyes. “You know Harry that well,” he said slowly. “Perhaps there is hope after all.”

Quite sure that Albus was alluding to more than simply Potter forgiving the headmaster, Severus decided not to think about it. Who knew what went on in that crazy old head? “There is always hope with Gryffindors. The brat forgave me, why in Merlin's name would he hold a grudge against you? Although his trust may be harder to earn.”

Albus nodded, accepting he would have to work for Harry's trust. “Will you tell me why you felt the need to introduce Harry to the Bar Sinister?”

“They can help him,” stated Severus simply.

“Are you sure that they are the most appropriate choice of tutors for Harry? I'm sure the other professors would be willing to offer their assistance.” Albus refilled his tea cup, watching Severus closely.

“Potter plans to take his N.E.W.T's by the New Year. The other professors would not have the time to tutor him as needed. Not to mention they would be unable to refrain from coddling the brat.” Severus gave a derisive sneer at the end.

“But what of the Bar Sinister's reputation? Surely they are not good influences for the boy,” Albus ventured.

“Headmaster, do not compound your mistakes by judging the Bar based on rumor. They are all honorable men. The Bar has accepted Potter as one of their own; he could not have better teachers or friends.” Severus had few friends but fiercely defended those few.

“Forgive me, Severus, you are correct. I should not judge those I have not met. How long have you known them?” Albus had correctly deduced Severus felt strongly about the Bar, but was curious as to why he had yet to meet them.

Severus rolled his eyes as the headmaster obviously decided to forgo his usual subtlety. “For Merlin's sake, Albus, if you wish an introduction, simply ask. It would not have been wise for me to openly associate with them in the past. The Dark Lord despised them because they would not join him.”

Looking at his clock, Albus noted it was time to head to dinner. “I will try to do as you suggest and ask Harry's forgiveness.” Lost in thought for a moment, he did not notice Severus banish the tea things. “Perhaps there is a way to show Harry how very sorry I truly am.”

Satisfied he had accomplished his mission, Severus walked with Albus to dinner. He ignored the little voice in his head asking why he cared so much that Potter had his confidant back.

Harry paced the entryway, nervously awaiting his friends; the train whistle had sounded ten minutes ago. Looking out the door again, he finally saw the carriages approaching. Harry found a dark corner and watched for Ron and Hermione. Students came pouring through the door, chattering loudly and laughing. He spotted the familiar red head above the crowd and eased his way towards them, only to run smack into Draco Malfoy. “Sorry, Malfoy, didn't see you.”

The blonde looked up with a scathing retort on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw who bumped him he hastily swallowed it. “It was nothing, Potter.” Malfoy walked away towards the Slytherin table.

Shaking his head at the lack of malice from Malfoy, Harry kept wading through his former classmates to reach his friends. Upon reaching them, he was engulfed in frizzy brown hair. “Hi, Hermione, it's good to see you too.”

Hermione pulled back, laughing, “I know I saw you last week, but I missed you.”

Ron slapped his shoulder. “Yeah, mate; it wasn't the same at Headquarters without you.”

“I missed you lot too. Listen I just wanted to say hi, I have to sit at the High Table tonight. But I'll catch up with you after the feast.” The trio were at the Gryffindor table and his former dorm mates were calling out greetings.

“I can't wait to hear all you've learned so far,” Hermione said.

“I can,” was Ron's whispered comment.

Harry laughed at Ron. “Hermione, I'll tell you all about it later, I really need to get up there now.” After saying goodbye, Harry walked towards the teachers' table when he heard his name being called. Turning, he saw Ginny and called out, “Hey, Ginny, how's it going?”

“I'm fine, Harry. You're looking good.” There was something in Ginny's tone that caused Harry to look closely at her. The look in her eye was new to Harry, but he didn't have time to figure it out then so he waved and kept walking.

Harry took his seat next to Snape and waited for the first years to be led in when Snape spoke, “Should I expect a horde of Gryffindors to descend upon my door tonight?”

“No, I thought I would go up to the common room for a little while.” Harry glanced around the Great Hall; Ginny caught his eye when she waved. “Sweet Merlin, she's flirting with me.”

“Potter, Miss Weasley has been flirting with you since her first year. Perhaps you really are dim if you are just now realizing it,” Severus drawled, inwardly laughing at how slow Potter could be in some respects.

McGonagall had just set the Sorting Hat on the stool so Harry said softly, “Shut up, you git. I am not dim.”

Severus glared at him and they both turned to watch the sorting. All throughout dinner Harry caught students glancing at him before whispering furiously to their table mates. He sighed and contented himself with the fact that at least none of them approached him. After dinner Harry spent several hours catching up with his friends.

A week later as Harry left Hagrid's hut after lunch with the giant, the hallways were quiet. The students were still at lunch. He was walking to his room to read more about Animagus transformations, thinking maybe he could convince Devlin to help him. Lost in thought, Harry failed to notice the shadow following him. The shouted, `Expelliarmus', caught the young man by surprise. The disarming spell was strong enough to cause Harry to slam into the wall and loose his breath.

Struggling to suck in air, Harry looked at his attacker. “Nott,” he gasped.

“Shut up, Potter. Did you know that there is a price on your head?” Nott drawled as he pocketed Harry's wand.

Harry didn't wait to hear more; he raised one hand and wandlessly bound and gagged Nott. After securing both wands, Harry levitated Nott quickly down the deserted hallway to Snape's office. Once inside, he dumped the Slytherin in the corner and sat on the desk to wait for Snape to come back from lunch.

Severus strode into his office to find Potter perched on his desk. “Potter, get your arse off my desk,” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Harry pointed to the corner. “Nott attacked me. He said something about a price on my head.”

Severus pivoted towards Nott and heaved a sigh. “At least you didn't damage him.”

“Hey, he attacked me from behind. What was I supposed to do? Let him collect whatever price some unhappy Death Eater is willing to pay for my hide?” asked Harry indignantly.

“Potter, you misunderstand me. Interrogation works much better when the subject is intact. It is unfortunate that they rarely remain undamaged.” Severus' words spoken in a silky voice caused Nott to pale and attempt to scoot away.

Harry grinned; Snape was playing with Nott. Going with the flow, Harry said, “Oh, okay. What do you want me to do?”

Severus walked to a storage cabinet and rummaged around. Removing a vial of clear liquid, he said, “It would be best if I did this alone. However, I do need you to take my next class.”

“All right, but I'm not cleaning your office when you're done.” Harry placed the confiscated wand on the desk and headed for the door, pausing to give Nott a grin.

“I should warn you it's fourth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws. You should expect impertinent questions. I will join you soon,” Severus said as he advanced on Nott.

As Harry left, he heard Snape levitate Nott into a chair.

Harry hurried to the potion's classroom and dug out the lesson plan to see what was scheduled for today. Noting that the Wit-Sharpening Potion only required ingredients from the unlocked student cupboard, Harry put the instructions on the black-board the way Snape had shown him. That accomplished, he sat behind the professor's desk, leaned back in the chair, and waited for the class to begin.

Students began to stream into the classroom in groups of twos and threes, only to fall silent momentarily upon seeing Harry there. When the last student − a Slytherin - entered, Harry asked, “Shut the door please.”

The Slytherin obeyed, obviously confused. When everyone was in their seats, Harry spoke again. “Professor Snape had something to take care of, and he asked me to get you started. Today you will be brewing Wit-Sharpening Potion; the instructions are on the board.”

Nobody moved, and a Slytherin boy whose name Harry didn't know spoke up, “Where is Professor Snape?”

“That's none of your business,” Harry said. Seeing that none of them were inclined to brew the potion he added, “If you want to get a zero for the day and a lecture from Professor Snape, that's your concern. But if it were me I'd start brewing.”

One of the female Ravenclaws asked haughtily, “Do you even know how to brew this potion? What if we poison ourselves?”

“If you manage to poison yourself, then you're not brewing Wit-Sharpening Potion as none of the ingredients are poisonous. And, yes, I do know how to brew it. If that's all the questions, you best get started,” Harry stated coldly as he rose to his feet.

Finally they all gave in and started their potions; Harry barely bit back a sigh. No wonder Snape called them all dunderheads. He patrolled the room to assist where needed for a few moments before returning to the desk. Spotting a battered sixth year potion book he opened it and read for a few minutes. He noticed the handwritten additions and the name `Prince' in the book. Wondering if this had been Snape's, he resolved to ask later.

Severus dropped Nott carelessly into a chair, pleased that the boy was scared; Potter did a masterful job at following his lead. He removed the gag from Nott's mouth, stood back, and gave the boy his most evil stare. Twisting the vial in his hand, he asked, “Do you know what this is?”

Nott glared defiantly as he spat, “No.”

“Veritaserum is the most powerful truth serum, odorless and tasteless. Three drops of it and you'll tell me everything I wish to know,” Severus said.

He opened the vial and approached Nott. “Open your mouth, boy, or I will force it.”

Nott raised his eyes, locking them on Severus' and silently challenging the older man. Severus simply waited him out; eventually Nott looked away and opened his mouth in defeat.

Severus placed three drops of the clear liquid on the boy's tongue. After waiting a moment, he asked his question. “Why did you attack Potter?”

Nott never hesitated before answering, “My father said he's worth 2000 galleons to the right people.”

“Did your father say who these people where?”

“No, just if I had an opportunity to capture Potter to take it,” Nott said, sneering.

Severus paced the room. Turning back to Nott, he asked, “Did you really believe you could capture Potter?”

“Potter is a weakling, a coward. He should not have been able to kill the Dark Lord,” Nott ranted.

“Yet he did. Tell me, your father is in Azkaban, who were you to contact if you captured Potter?” Severus stopped pacing and stood by the chair holding Nott.

“Yaxley,” was Nott's answer.

Severus had all the answers he needed; he pulled the boy roughly to his feet and removed the bonds, stating harshly, “There is nowhere you could hide from me if you run. We are going to the headmaster's office.”

Opening the office door and pushing Nott before him, Severus warded his office and escorted the Slytherin to Dumbledore's office. They passed no one in the halls; Severus spared a thought to his class under Potter's direction. It's a simple potion, the brat should do fine, he assured himself.

The two Slytherins rode the stone steps to the headmaster's office in silence. When they were admitted Severus pushed Nott into a chair and addressed the man seated behind the desk. “Headmaster, Mr. Nott attacked Potter in a failed kidnapping attempt.”

Albus turned with a stern expression. “Mr. Nott, is this true?”

“Snape drugged me and threatened to torture me,” Nott stated loudly.

Severus snorted derisively. “I assure you the boy is mistaken.”

“He forced me to take Veritaserum and talked to Potter about hurting me,” Nott yelled.

Albus sighed and looked to Severus. “Did you give Mr. Nott Veritaserum?”

“I did not. Headmaster, I would not stoop to drugging a student.” Severus crossed his arms over his chest.

The boy was fairly quivering with anger and outrage. “He put the vial in his pocket, make Snape turn out his pockets and you'll see I'm right,” demanded Nott.

Severus rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out the vial of clear liquid. “This vial? It contains distilled water.” To prove his point Severus opened the vial and downed the contents.

“But you said…” Nott stuttered.

“I simply stated Veritaserum is a powerful truth agent. I never claimed that it was present in that vial,” Severus drawled.

Albus managed to refrain from laughing; Severus was excellent at leading people to believe what he wished them to. “I'm glad that's been cleared up. Now, Mr. Nott, even though Mr. Potter is no longer a student here, I will not have Hogwarts students assaulting innocent people in the hallways. I think it would be best if Professor Snape decided your punishment.”

Nott paled. Snape looked ready to commit murder. “Sir…”

Severus cut him off, “Mr. Nott, it would be in your best interest to remain silent.” Turning to face the headmaster, he said, “Headmaster, if we are finished with Mr. Nott perhaps he should attend his class. I will determine his punishment later. There is another issue I need discuss with you.”

“Mr. Nott, please return to your class now. Professor Snape will let you know the details of your punishment at dinner tonight.” Albus waited until the young man had left the room. “Now, Severus, you really should not mislead the students in that manner.”

“Save your chastisement, Albus, Nott claims some of the remaining Death Eaters will pay 2000 galleons for Potter. He was instructed to contact Yaxley when he had Potter in his custody.” Severus stood and began pacing.

Albus leaned back in his chair thinking over the new development. “Hmm…perhaps a charm of some sort to alert you when Harry is in danger?” he mused.

“Yes… Yes, I believe that would work. Now if I can convince the brat to wear it.” Severus thought quickly, trying to determine a way to get Potter to accept the protection.

“I will look into this disquieting rumor. I fear it is possible that the Death Eaters are attempting to raise Tom, and use Harry to do so. We do not have as much time as I had hoped.” Albus sunk into contemplative thought.

“Apologize quickly to the brat, Albus, you need his assistance. And, as much as he'd like to deny it, he needs yours.”

“Yes, I will. Will you ask him to meet with me next week? I hope to have more information then. I need you to be present as well; your insight and understanding of the Dark Arts will be beneficial.”

“Let me know when you're prepared and I will make sure Potter attends. Now I must go rescue the brat from my fourth year class.”

With those parting words, Severus turned and strode out of the office.

The Chamber

September 1996

Severus rummaged through a box containing jewelry his mother had left him. Locating the necklace he sought, he closed the box and returned it to its shelf in his wardrobe. The charms needed to alert him of any danger Potter might encounter were complicated but he finished the task in under an hour. To keep busy while he waited, Severus sat before the fire, grading essays; he intended to catch Potter the moment he returned from his lesson with Luc.

Thirty minutes later, Harry fell out of the fireplace onto his knees. “Well, at least it wasn't my face this time,” he muttered to himself.

“Really, Potter, one would think a wizard of your caliber could exit the Floo with a small amount of grace.” The silky drawl alerted Harry to Snape's presence.

Harry stood and dusted the Floo powder from his clothes. Glaring at Snape, he dropped onto the couch. “That's what you and Luc say every time I fall on my face out of the damned fireplace. But I don't see either one of you arses showing me the proper way to do it.”

“Have Luc show you. That falls under wizarding traditions.” Severus reached into his pocket for the necklace and tossed it to Potter before commanding, “You are to wear that at all times.”

Harry examined the necklace. It was a simple silver chain and a pendant in the shape of a silver P with a snake coiled around it. “Why?”

“It will alert me if you find yourself in danger. I do not wish to discover you missing some day and have to rescue you. This will ensure I'm aware when you require assistance, immediately.” Severus lifted his quill and returned to marking essays.

“So it has a tracking charm on it?”

“Yes, Potter, otherwise it would be of little value.” Severus never looked up from his grading.

“Ok, I'll wear it. If it'll make you feel better,” Harry added tongue-in-cheek.

Lifting his eyes from the parchment he was marking, Severus glared. “Do not be flippant. I promised you my protection. I keep my promises.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I get it. I appreciate your concern over what happens to me. I was teasing you.” He carefully put the necklace on and performed a locking charm on the clasp.

Severus returned to his grading; several minutes passed before he said stiffly, “I am simply keeping my promise.”

Harry laughed inwardly; Snape would probably never admit he cared what happened to Harry. That was all right. The man showed it often enough. Recalling the reason he now had a necklace, Harry asked, “What happened to Nott?”

Severus scratched several more scathing remarks on the essay before answering, “The headmaster left his punishment in my hands.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Harry laughed. Poor Nott, he thought. If Snape's tone is anything to go by, the idiot will wish he was dead by the time his punishment is finished.

“I believe two months of assisting Filch with his duties will be sufficient to convince Mr. Nott to find better ways to use his time.” Severus never stopped his writing, but the corners of his mouth turned up at the thought of Nott's misery.

Harry saw the half-smile and laughed again. “Well, I'm off to do my homework for Luc. I have to research Dark Arts rituals involving human bones.”

Severus pointed out an overburdened bookshelf along the wall with his quill. “Hogwarts library does not run to Dark Arts books; you are welcome to use any text you find here in your research.”

Harry was already scanning titles and only offered a murmured and distracted, “Thanks.”

Two days later Harry sprawled on the floor of the sitting room before the fire with books all around him. Scribbling something, he would turn to a book, read for a moment and nod and scribble some more. He was so enthralled with his reading it took him a couple of minutes to realize someone was knocking on the door.

He headed for the door, carefully avoiding the scattered books and parchment. Wonder who it is? Never had a visitor down here before. He opened the door to reveal Headmaster Dumbledore smiling down at him. Resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the violently clashing red and purple robes, Harry said, “Professor Snape is in his office, sir.”

“It was you I wished to speak with, Harry. May I come in?” Dumbledore asked softly.

Harry glanced around at the mess behind him and shrugged. “Yeah, come in. Just give me a minute to pick my books up.”

He could feel the headmaster's eyes following his movements as he cleared the floor and made room for them to sit. Harry stacked the books on the coffee table while Dumbledore seated himself on the couch and spoke, “Animagus transformation? Is that part of your studies? It is well beyond N.E.W.T level.”

Reluctantly, Harry sat in the arm chair facing Dumbledore. “No, Devlin said if I did all the research by myself he would free up some time to help me with the actual transformation.”

Dumbledore peered over the tops of his half-moon glasses. “I'm certain Professor McGonagall would be happy to offer her assistance.”

“I know. That's where I got all the books,” Harry said, waving a hand at the books in question. “She said Devlin was right to make me do all the research by myself. Said it would be good for me.”

“I see. She does have an extensive library on Transfigurations,” Dumbledore said.

Knowing the headmaster hadn't come to talk about his homework, Harry decided to cut to the chase. “What did you want to see me about, sir?”

Dumbledore sighed sadly. “I owe you yet another apology, Harry. In my haste to ensure your safety and wellbeing, I neglected to treat you with the respect you deserve. For that I am truly sorry.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the chair; he didn't know how to respond. Dumbledore seemed to sense his discomfort in the eerie way of his and added, “I give you my assurance that from now on I will attempt to regard you as the mature young man you have grown to be.”

Feeling horribly conflicted, Harry thought quickly, I don't know if I'm ready to forgive him yet, but I hate being at odds with Dumbledore. I guess it won't hurt to talk to him at any rate. “You won't keep important information from me to spare my feelings? You accept that I have the right to make my own decisions?” Harry kept his gaze locked on the headmaster, waiting for his response. He refused to back down on this point; he would not tolerate being treated as child any longer. Not by Dumbledore or anyone else.

“You have my word on it,” Dumbledore stated solemnly, meeting Harry's gaze with apparent sincerity.

“Why didn't you inform me about my parent's estate and the Potter seat on the Wizengamot?” Harry's eyes blazed with anger; he was surprised to realize the issue still hurt him. “I had to find out about my heritage from strangers and the goblins. Why would you keep that from me?”

Dumbledore sighed. His eyes flitted away briefly, then returned to meet Harry's gaze. “I'm sorry, my boy, I was trying to spare you the pressure that comes with such things. I fear I did not see my actions as keeping your heritage away from you.”

“How could you think that? You know how little I have of my parents,” Harry demanded hotly.

The headmaster clasped his hands tightly in his lap. “I'm afraid I did not think at all. I simply wished for your life to be as trouble free as possible.”

“Then why did you leave me with the Dursleys? You had to know how they treated me.” Harry leaned forward in his chair, never letting go of his hold on Dumbledore's eyes. He wondered if the old man would tell him more this time, but doubted it.

“We have discussed this before. You know my reasons,” Dumbledore said softly as he shifted slightly in his seat.

“I know why you placed me with them. What I mean is why you left me there for ten years in a cupboard. Bloody hell, my Hogwarts letter was addressed to the Cupboard Under the Stairs. You had Mrs. Figg a few houses down giving you reports.” Harry's green eyes flashed with long suppressed resentment. “Surely there were other arrangements that could have been made.”

“My only defense is my concern for your safety. I had hoped to make up for your bleak home life once you were safely in Hogwarts. I see now that I was wrong,” Dumbledore offered.

Harry noticed Dumbledore never tried to deny what he'd accused him of. The old man simply sat and let Harry rail at him. He finally lowered his gaze and stared at the rug, lost in thought. Well, at least he admitted he was wrong. I do believe that he tried to keep me safe. I don't want to be angry with him any longer. But just because I'm willing to forgive him doesn't mean I have to trust him. He looked back at Dumbledore to find the older man stroking his beard and staring into the fire.

“I'll accept your apology. I know you were trying to do what's right. But, Professor, I won't trust you again. Not with anything regarding decisions for my life.” Harry paused a moment before adding, “I'll listen to your advise about the Horcruxes, and things of that nature, but I'll be making my own decisions from here on.” Harry spoke softly, not wanting to hurt Dumbledore but determined to make his feelings known.

Dumbledore smoothed a fold in his robes, the twinkle beginning to shine in his eyes once again. “I understand I lost your trust, Harry, and I will do anything in my power to earn it back. I'm grateful that you are willing to forgive an old man and work with me,” Dumbledore said in a resigned voice. He sounded so contrite Harry felt most of his anger drain away.

Wanting to break the tension the last half-hour brought, Harry gave a tentative smile. “I hate not being on good terms with you. I'm willing to give you a second chance. I'll work on my temper; I don't think you're office can survive many more of my tantrums.”

Dumbledore laughed with obvious relief. “Do not fear, my dear boy, that office has seen much worse. At least when you lose your temper the roof is still intact.”

“Who blew the roof off your office?” Harry asked curiously.

The headmaster settled himself more comfortably on the couch. “Oh, it was not my office at the time. In Hogwarts: A History, there is a story about a young apprentice to Gryffindor himself who lost control of his power and caused the roof to collapse. You really should read the book sometime, it is very informative.”

“Yeah, so Hermione keeps telling me,” Harry said. Getting to his feet, he asked, “I was going to make some tea, would you like some?”

“That would be delightful. Severus always keeps very high quality tea for his personal use,” Dumbledore informed Harry.

Harry shrugged; tea was tea to him. He quickly prepared the tea tray, adding the biscuits Dobby had baked yesterday, and brought it to the coffee table. It took careful balancing to avoid the piles of books but he managed without catastrophe. Pouring two cups, Harry handed one to the headmaster and took his own. The two men sat chatting about nothing important and eating biscuits for some time.

Eventually, Dumbledore returned his cup to the tray and turned to Harry, his expression serious. “Harry, I know that I have made it difficult for you to feel you could come to me with your problems. Please believe me when I say that you can come to me at any time. I honestly want to assist you in whatever way I can. Even if all I can offer is a sympathetic ear.”

Harry twisted the tea cup in his hands. Sighing, he placed it on the table. “I would like that. I think maybe we both need to try a little harder. I'll try to remember I'm not alone.”

“I'm afraid I will always see you as a child, Harry. I feel as if you are my child. I will always be there for you. I simply was not ready for you to `leave the nest', as they say.” Dumbledore leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, “I will endeavor to remember that you can fly on your own now.” The headmaster opened his arms to the young man before him.

Harry never hesitated; he left his seat and let Dumbledore take him in his arms. He'd had too few hugs in his life to turn away from one sincerely offered. Gently pushing the beard away from his mouth, he murmured, “Thanks, Headmaster, it means a lot to me that you came here today.”

Dumbledore patted his back softly when Harry pulled away. “I think you should call me Albus. You are no longer my student, and I would like it if you did.”

Harry smiled as he sat back in his chair. “I'll try. I still have trouble with Severus. Not sure how long it will take me to stop calling you Headmaster.”

“I'm sure you will manage. I must be off; there is a mountain of paperwork on my desk that must be attended to. I enjoyed our tea.” Dumbledore stood and shook out his robes as he said, “Come see an old man when you can take a break from your studies.” Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder and walked to the door.

Harry said goodbye and sat replaying the conversation. Shaking his head, he cleared the tea things and grabbed his broom. A nice hard flight would clear his head.

Severus finished the last of the seventh year essays and looked at the clock. He had four hours till dinner and was determined to track down Potter. Severus had a question he had not found the time to ask; with his work finished and nothing else pressing to attend to, now was finally the time.

After checking his chambers, the library and the Gryffindor common room he eventually located the brat on the Quidditch pitch. Severus gasped when he saw Potter heading for the ground in a nose dive. Quickly pulling out his wand, he prepared to cushion the inevitable fall. When the brat pulled up less than a foot from the ground to trail his trainers through the grass, Severus yelled, “Potter, get your arse over here, now!”

Harry executed a sharp turn and flew in the direction of the yell. Leaping from his broom before it fully stopped, he landed in front of an irate Snape. “Why are you yelling at me? I was just goofing around.”

“You foolish brat, you could have broken your neck. If you wish to kill yourself there are less painful methods. I would be happy to supply you with a poison should you continue with such foolish stunts,” Severus ranted.

The brat was simply too reckless for his peace of mind. The brat will drive me insane. It's not enough that he can't walk the halls without being attacked; no, Potter has to risk his foolish neck performing outlandish tricks on that overpriced stick of wood.

Snape looked ready to throttle him. Smothering an inappropriate chuckle at Snape's overreaction, Harry tried to appease the man. “Sorry, I'll be careful. Why are you out here anyway?”

Accepting the clear attempt to change the subject, Severus said, “You mentioned last month that you encountered the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets…”

“What about it?” Harry interrupted.

Severus rolled his eyes and huffed, “If you would let me finish. I would like to see if I can salvage any parts from the corpse. There is also the allure of seeing Slytherin's Chamber.”

“Yeah, it'd be nice to see it again without running for my life,” Harry said dryly. “I guess you want to do it now.”

“Yes, if you are free, there is nothing requiring my attention at the moment.” Severus turned on his heel and started striding back to the castle.

Harry hurried to catch up. “Let me drop off my broom and I'll take you down there.”

Severus stopped abruptly. “Potter, you're a wizard. Simply banish it to your room.”

Ducking his head to hide his blush, Harry grumbled, “Forgot about that.” Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and waved his hand over the broom while visualizing the spot beside his desk. He felt the broom disappear from his hand and his eyes sprang open. Grinning widely, he turned to Snape and said excitedly, “All right, it worked. I've been having problems with that spell.”

Severus gave an aggrieved sigh and resumed the walk to the castle. He gave Potter an overview of the theory behind the banishing spell on the way to the second floor girl's bathroom.

Harry pushed open the door to Myrtle's bathroom; nothing had changed since he'd last been here. The sinks were still chipped and the mirror cracked; it was still the most depressing bathroom he'd ever seen. Harry walked towards the sink when a voice called out petulantly, “Who's there?”

Snape grabbed his arm in a painful grip and turned them both to face the door. “I thought you said it would be unoccupied, Potter,” Snape hissed, voice full of mortification and back rigid.

Harry shrugged off the hand on his arm. “It's just Myrtle.” Hearing her name, Moaning Myrtle floated through a closed stall door.

“Oh, it's just you, Harry. Have you come to visit me?” Seeing Snape, she squealed, “I've never seen a male teacher in here before.”

“We're just going down to the Chamber, Myrtle. Professor Snape hasn't seen it yet.” Harry drew the ghost's attention back to him.

Myrtle whined. “Why don't you visit me anymore, Harry? You did promise to.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Sorry, I've been busy trying to deal with Voldemort. Don't you remember he's the one that set the Basilisk on you?”

“You didn't have to remind me that I'm dead,” the ghost cried. She sailed back through the stall door and, with a splash, was gone.

“Interesting friends you have, Potter,” Severus drawled once the obnoxious wailing creature had left.

Harry ignored Snape's remark and approached the middle sink. Spying the tiny snake engraved in the tap, he leaned closer and hissed, “Open up.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape stiffen when he spoke in Parseltongue, but ignored the movement.

The sink slowly lowered into the floor, revealing a large open pipe. Harry turned to Snape. “It's quite a drop down to the Chamber and it's really disgusting on the slide. You might want to take off your robes.” Suiting word to deed, Harry peeled off his robes, revealing his jeans and tee shirt underneath.

Severus sneered at Potter. “You need to remember that you are a wizard, brat. Have you considered simply sending cleaning charms down before you go?”

Harry ducked his head, abashed. “I didn't think of that, though it would take a really strong cleaning charm to clear that mess.”

“I wonder if there are any powerful wizards around to accomplish such a task.” Severus looked at Potter with one eyebrow arched in question.

“All right, I get it. I keep forgetting how much power I have,” Harry said before turning to the dark pipe. He concentrated, wanting to assure that the Black magic was powered with his desire not to slide in the slime coating the pipe, and sent the strongest cleaning charm he knew down the open pipe.

Severus lit his wand with a softly spoken `Lumos' and gestured for Potter to precede him. “You first, Potter.”

Harry nodded and took a deep breath before jumping into the dark hole before him. Snape followed soon after. The two men slid down the twisting pipes for several minutes before Harry landed with a thud at the bottom. Seeing Snape somehow land on his feet, he growled, “I really need to learn how you do that.”

Severus rolled his eyes as the brat got to his feet. Looking around him, Severus sneered disgustedly at the piles of bones and slime on the walls as he cast a cleaning charm on Potter. “Surely this is not the Chamber of Slytherin.”

“No, it's a little further in. There was a collapse last time I was here; we might have to clear a few rocks.”

They walked silently for several minutes before coming upon a huge snake skin. Severus felt his eyes grow wide at the sight. “Sweet Merlin, Potter, you were not exaggerating the size of the beast.”

Harry snorted his amusement and kept walking. They soon reached the rock pile where Ron's wand had backfired. There was still a small gap in the top but it would not be large enough for Harry now, not to mention Severus who had several inches on him. The two men quickly expanded the hole until they could squeeze through it. After a twenty minute walk, they finally reached the inner door. It was closed and once again Harry hissed, “Open up.”

The snake locks parted and the door slowly slid open. The stench of decomposing snake filled the air; the Chamber itself was unchanged. The huge pillars of intertwined snakes and the mammoth statue of Slytherin stood in the gloomy light, with the corpse of the Basilisk lying on the floor.

Severus had a hard time deciding what to focus his attention on first. Finally the Basilisk corpse proved the strongest lure. He approached it slowly, taking in the mammoth snake and inwardly cringing at the thought of a twelve year old student being put in the position to fight off such a creature. The closer he got to the corpse, the more he marveled that Potter had emerged victorious from the battle. “It appears that the venom sacks are still intact. Pity that the skin is so badly decomposed, it is quite valuable,” he said aloud.

“Yeah, well, sorry I didn't think to collect ingredients after I killed it, but it's all yours now,” Harry snapped.

Severus rolled his eyes. “It was not a criticism, Potter, merely an observation. I am pleased to have any of the snake's parts. The teeth in particular will be most useful in my experiments.”

Harry snorted at Snape's obsession with his potions and wandered the perimeter of the Chamber while the Potions master harvested his prize. As Harry strolled aimlessly around the statue of Salazar Slytherin, he spied an unusual crack in the wall to the left of the statue. Walking closer, he wondered what had caused it; the crack was too straight to have occurred naturally. Curious, he ran his fingers along it, surprised when he felt the tingle of wards run though his hand. “Severus, come here,” he called out urgently.

Hearing the excitement in the brat's voice, Severus quickly placed the venom sack he'd just removed in a container he'd brought for that purpose and hurried to join Potter. The brat pointed out the crack he'd been studying and Severus too felt the crackle of warding.

The mystery of the crack intrigued him. Now determined to discover what was behind the wall, Severus tried for several minutes to break the wards but they were not anything he'd come up against before. Taking a step back, Severus put his brilliant and highly logical brain to the task of finding a way to gain entrance to whatever was hidden in the wall. What could be hidden behind there? I would wager that it is something valuable if Slytherin went to this much trouble to secure it, but how to gain access? Hmmm, this is Slytherin's Chamber after all… perhaps it requires Slytherin's gift.

Turning to Potter, Severus suggested, “Why don't you try gaining admittance with Parseltongue.”

Harry nodded. “Should have thought of that.” Turning to the wall, he hissed out, “Let us enter.” For a moment he thought nothing would happen, and then slowly the wall slid back with the groans of stone on stone, revealing a plain wooden door. Harry grabbed the door handle and twisted it, expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, it opened easily. The hinges squeaked a little as Harry pushed the door open and looked into the opening behind the door.

Severus crowded behind Potter's shoulder. He sucked in an astonished breath. “This must be Slytherin's personal study.” The room was lined in bookshelves all overflowing with books. There was a fireplace in one wall and a small loveseat and arm chair before the fire, set on a green and silver rug. The room looked as if Slytherin had simply stepped out moments before, the shelves were dust free and the fire lay waiting to be brought to life.

Severus immediately headed for the bookshelves. Running his fingers along the spines as he read the titles, he was slightly disappointed to find that while the books were in pristine condition, they were not the rare manuscripts he had hoped for. Severus had many in his own collection, and had seen many others in other collections. He was mentally chiding himself for being such an optimist when he heard Potter give an excited shout from behind him.

“Hey, Severus, this one was written by Slytherin. It's got potion instructions in it.” Harry pored over the tome bound in black leather. “I've never even heard of some of these.”

He quickly approached Potter, placing a hand on the brat's shoulder as he looked at the book. Severus noted absently that Potter seemed to be gaining some muscle. Trying to read the book in Potter's hand he growled, “What are you going on about, Potter? I see nothing but indecipherable scribbles.”

Harry never lifted his head from his reading. “Huh? It says right here, two pinches of bicorn horn to be mixed with one ounce of sage in a base of…”

Severus stopped listening; Potter could truly read the mess on the pages. He snatched the book from the brat's hands, ignoring the spluttered protests as he flipped rapidly through the pages. They were all covered in the same hand-scrawled wiggles. Severus ventured a guess. “I do believe that it is written in Parseltongue.”

Harry had turned around as soon as the book left his hands. Hearing Snape's statement he sighed; this was yet another inexplicable thing he could do that others couldn't. Harry watched in growing amusement as Snape's eyes darted from the book to Harry. It was an unusual occurrence that Harry could read Snape's intentions.

Severus loathed to ask Potter's assistance, but he was desperately curious about what was written in Slytherin's book. He took several moments before yielding to the inevitable. “Potter…”

Harry knew what Snape was going to ask and felt no urge to make the proud man humble himself by asking. Snape had given up his free time, introduced him to his friends and helped Harry a great deal. There was very little the man could ask of him Harry wouldn't do. “I'd be happy to translate that for you. You might want to have a look around; there could be more books in Parseltongue,” he said easily.

Holding Potter's eyes for a long moment, Severus inclined his head gracefully. “Thank you, Potter. I do admit to a large amount of interest in what Slytherin has written. It is very gracious of you to offer your translation services.”

Shrugging off the stiff formal thanks, Harry wandered the room, taking in very little. He was lost in thought. Why does Snape always get so formal when he's uncomfortable? Well, it doesn't matter. At least I have a way to judge his emotions, it's not like he normally gives anything away. Did he really think I wouldn't translate that for him? Harry gave up his thoughts, he'd never understand Snape.

Turning to walk along the opposite wall, Harry groaned when he saw the five books Snape had collected. Knowing they'd all be in Parseltongue, he resigned himself to some intense reading for the next few weeks. He'd ended up in front of the fireplace; Harry noticed a small urn on the mantle. Unable to resist, he picked it up and glanced inside, surprised to discover Floo powder. He shared his discovery with Snape. “I think this place used to be on the Floo network. I found a container of Floo powder.”

Severus had found all the books that appeared to be in Parseltongue so he joined Potter at the fireplace. Handing the books to Potter, he examined the glittery powder. “Yes, you are correct,” he began, but Potter interrupted with, “Do you think you can hook it back up?”

Snape rolled his eyes. The brat had the most distressing habit of interrupting him before he could finish. “Yes, Potter, I should be capable of connecting it to my quarters,” he drawled.

Harry knew he'd been rude, but Snape took too long before getting to the important part of the conversation. “Well, do it. I'm getting hungry and I don't fancy walking back through the miles of tunnels on an empty stomach.”

Severus glared at the presumptuous brat, but did the necessary work to connect this fireplace to the one in his sitting room. Assuring himself that Potter had a firm grip on the precious manuscripts, he Flooed himself back to his quarters. Stepping aside, he watched with ill-disguised amusement as the brat exited the fireplace moments later. Potter nearly tumbled to his knees before righting himself at the last moment.

Harry laughed; he'd gone through the Floo and come out on his feet. Grinning his triumph, he said, “Finally. I thought I'd never mange to do that.”

“At least you didn't damage the books,” Severus sneered dismissively.

Seeing all the books in Slytherin's study reminded Harry of the one he'd been reading when he'd taken over Snape's fourth year class. After carefully setting down the precious books, Harry headed out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Be right back, got to get something.”

Severus rolled his eyes at Potter's retreating back; the brat was always rushing off, leaving Severus to wait for him.

Harry jogged quickly through the halls to the Potions classroom; he scooped up the battered book and set off back to Snape's quarters. In less than five minutes, he was back. Panting lightly, he dropped onto the couch and faced Snape. “I was reading this that day I took your fourth year class, and saw the name, was it yours? Some of the directions make sense and the spells are wicked.”

Severus took the book from Potter and flipped through the pages. “Yes, it was mine, and my mother's before me. I unearthed it to demonstrate to you the process of creating a spell.”

“But about the Half-Blood Prince inscription, was that you?” Harry asked inquisitively.

“No one actually called me the Half-Blood Prince, if that's what you're asking. The only place I used the title was in that book; I invented that name in a vain attempt to make myself sound more imposing. But I never had the courage to tell anyone what I'd done.” Severus joined Potter on the couch, long fingers tracing his boyish words fondly. “I had hoped that if I excelled at Hogwarts my grandparents would look more favorably upon me,” Severus said bleakly.

Intensely curious about Snape's past but wary of offending him, Harry carefully asked, “But I thought you didn't like your grandparents?”

“Potter, I was a child when I went to live with them, and for far longer than was wise I sought their approval,” Severus spat bitterly; he snapped the book closed and tossed it on the coffee table. “Indeed, my joining the Dark Lord was the final attempt I made at gaining their approval.”

Wanting to understand the dour man, Harry felt compelled to ask, “Then you decided their approval wasn't important anymore?”

Snape's black eyes were lit with an unrepentant fire when they locked with Harry's. Harry listened with sympathy when Snape said in a hollow voice, “No, I decided the price of their approval was more than I was willing to pay. I wanted my self-respect more than the well-wishes of such sanctimonious zealots.”

October 1996

The next evening at dinner Harry was sitting with his friends at the Gryffindor table, laughing and enjoying their company, when the headmaster stood and cleared his throat. When everyone in the hall turned their attention to the headmaster, he spoke, “I have an announcement. This year Hogwarts is pleased to offer a Halloween ball to all students fourth year and above.”

This announcement drew waves of chatter from the girls and several moans from boys remembering the Yule Ball, including Harry. But the headmaster was not yet finished. Once the noise died back down, he continued, “We have much to celebrate. With Voldemort behind us we can look towards a bright future. The ball will be formal dress, costumes are optional. The event will take place on the night of October the 31st and last until midnight. There will be members of the Ministry and press present, so I ask that you all show them only appropriate behavior that we expect from Hogwarts students.”

Harry resisted the urge to beat his head on the table; however, he could not resist glaring daggers at the barmy old coot. Looking around the staff table, he noticed more than one professor doing the same. Indeed, the glare from Snape could have melted glaciers. Harry caught the Potions master's eye, and they shared a moment of silent communion on the state of mind of the senile older wizard before Harry was drawn into the excited chatter of his friends.

Severus could not believe that Albus would subject them to the farce of a Halloween ball. He glared at the old man until he finally gained his attention. Sparing a thought to the students, he made sure to keep his voice to a low malevolent hiss when he said, “What in the sodding hell are you thinking, you crazy old man? A Halloween ball? The very thought of such a catastrophe makes me want to use all of the Unforgivable Curses, preferably on you.” His caustic remarks caught the attention of the surrounding professors; Minerva seemed to be silently cheering him on.

Albus smiled out over the students as he popped a lemon drop in his mouth. He turned that same smile on Severus, answering, “I felt Harry needed a distraction from his studies. This is my way of showing him how sorry I am that I violated his trust. What young man would not like the opportunity to dance with pretty young ladies and spend a relaxing evening with his friends?”

Shaking his head in disgust at the thought of such activities, Severus marveled at how little Albus appeared to know Potter. The look they'd shared had let him know the brat's utter loathing for the event matched Severus' own. “Do not expect me to attend such a noxious event, Albus.”

“I'm sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid attendance is mandatory for all staff.” At Albus' firm statement, Severus pushed away from the table angrily. He strode from the Great Hall with his robes billowing behind him, all the while muttering about senile old coots determined to be the death of him.

Harry eventually escaped from his friends' chatter about potential costumes and dates, and quickly headed to Snape's chambers. In the sitting room he discovered Snape in his chair, glaring angrily into the fire and smoking a cigarette. Harry dropped into the arm chair opposite Snape and snitched a cigarette from the open pack on the table. He lit his smoke and drew a deep drag before speaking. “What did Dumbledore say that made you storm out in the middle of dinner?”

“The old fool decreed it mandatory for all staff members to attend his fiasco disguised as a ball,” Severus snapped out.

Harry laughed at Snape's obvious displeasure. “Well, have fun. I don't plan on being there.”

Severus turned to Potter with an unholy gleam in his eyes. Voice dripping with ill-disguised amusement, he said silkily, “Oh but, Potter, you will be attending. Albus has dreamed up this little masquerade for your benefit.”

Harry shivered down to his toes; the man looked positively evil. Reluctantly, Harry asked, “How is it for my benefit? I hate that shite.”

“Our esteemed headmaster has decided that you need a distraction from your studies. In his misguided mind this ball is his way of offering you a further apology. And trust me, Potter, if I must suffer the indignity of attending this event, you will most certainly be present as well,” Severus drawled softly.

Harry slumped his shoulders in defeat. There was no arguing with that tone, he'd either go to the bloody ball or Snape would make his life a living hell. He tossed his cigarette into the fire. “Why me? I accepted his apology, why is Dumbledore torturing me like this? Are you sure that he's not an evil dark lord behind those twinkling eyes?”

Snape simply laughed at him.

Halloween

September 1996

September was rapidly approaching its end when Harry Potter and Severus Snape joined Albus Dumbledore for dinner and discussion. The three men sat around a small table in Dumbledore's private sitting room, relaxing with an after-dinner drink. As pleasant as the evening had been, however, Harry knew that he needed the information about the Horcruxes from the headmaster. Reluctantly, he brought up the subject they'd been putting off. “Albus, as much as I hate to put a damper on the evening, I really need to know how many Horcruxes Tom created.”

Dumbledore steepled his hands beneath his chin while he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he spoke. “With great difficulty I have managed to retrieve several memories that shed some light on the subject. I will summarize my findings for you, dear boy.”

“As you know, Tom Riddle is a half-blood; his father a Muggle from the village of Little Hangleton, his mother a witch descendent from Salazar Slytherin named Merope Gaunt. Her family was unkind to her and to Muggles in general.” Albus took a sip of his wine before continuing, “When her father and brother were sent to Azkaban for assault, she gave Tom Riddle Sr. a love potion. Merope subsequently became pregnant. For reasons known only to her she discontinued the potion and, no longer under its effects, Riddle left her, alone and pregnant. She gave birth in an orphanage, living only long enough to name her child Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“What does this have to do with the Horcruxes?” Harry asked impatiently.

Dumbledore looked over at Harry. “It gave me a starting place to search for the Horcruxes. Another memory, which I talked out of Horace Slughorn, leads me to believe that Voldemort intended to create seven Horcruxes.”

“Why would you believe anything that corpulent, half-witted excuse of a wizard had to say?” Severus spat venomously.

Harry had no idea who Slughorn was, but it was clear that Snape despised the man. Harry had to hide his smile behind his wine glass when Dumbledore's look of censure was met by an unrepentant glare from Snape. Hoping to diffuse the staring contest, Harry hurried to ask, “What do you mean `intended' to create seven? How many did Voldemort actually finish?”

Dumbledore turned his eyes to Harry; there was a knowing glint in them when he spoke again. “It is my conclusion that he intended to use your death for the seventh Horcrux,” he said gently.

Shrugging off the concerned look, Harry took a sip of his drink. “So he only got around to making six. I destroyed one in the Chamber so that leaves us with five to track down. Any ideas on what objects he would have used?”

“And where we might locate them?” added Severus.

“Indeed I have several theories on both; some I feel more strongly about than others,” Dumbledore said. Setting his glass down on the table, he leaned back in his chair. “I have good reason to believe that Tom used two of Slytherin's artifacts to house portions of his soul. Slytherin's ring and Slytherin's locket. Tom always held a fascination with Hogwarts.”

Deciding it would be best if he had a written account of the discussion, Harry requested, “Do you have any parchment, and a quill? It would be helpful if I could write this down.”

Wandlessly summoning the requested items, Dumbledore passed them to Harry. The young man quickly cleared a space on the table in front of him and jotted down the possible Horcruxes so far. “Ok, that's two. Would he have used other founders' things also?”

“Very good, dear boy, yes I believe he did. It is my opinion that he gained access to Hufflepuff's cup. If he also obtained something of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, I have yet to determine what it could be.” Dumbledore smiled fondly at Harry. “The only other possibility I feel confident in is Nagini.”

“Oh, for Merlin's sake, he used his bloody snake? Is that even possible?” Snape asked incredulously.

“It would explain his control over her. I feel that it is a very likely possibility.”

“So… we're pretty sure of four, one is destroyed and one was never created. That leaves us with one unknown,” Harry mused aloud. “Possibly something belonging to either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, does that sound about right?”

“That is my conclusion as well, Potter. Now where would the Dark Lord have hidden away his prizes?” Severus took a deep drink of his wine; the thought of an immortal Dark Lord was enough to drive even this most sober of men to drink.

Dumbledore sighed sadly. “I'm afraid my research has not reached that point yet, gentlemen. I am endeavoring to obtain memories from people who might be able to point us in the right direction. It would be very helpful if the two of you would research methods of destroying the Horcruxes while I attempt to locate them.”

Harry and Severus both promised to look into how the Horcruxes could be safely destroyed. With nothing else to discuss, the three men agreed to call it a night and to meet again when they had more information.

October 1996

Three days later, Harry stumbled into the small kitchen in Snape's quarters, desperately looking for coffee; Snape always had coffee ready before Harry woke. Finding a pot on the counter, he poured himself a cup and drank it, standing at the counter. Moderately awake, he took his second cup to the small table and sat down, ignoring the amused light in Snape's eyes.

When it seemed Potter was finally awake, Severus spoke, “You should have more care in your choice of lovers, Potter.”

“What? I don't have a lover,” Harry choked out, barely avoiding spitting out a mouthful of coffee.

“Really? Perhaps you should inform Miss Weasley of that fact. As it is, she has told the Daily Prophet that you plan to wed once she finishes her schooling,” Severus drawled. He tossed the Saturday edition of the newspaper onto the table in front of Harry.

Snatching up the paper, Harry read it quickly. On the front page was a picture some reporter had managed to take when Harry was leaving the Ministry after the Death Eater's attacked Diagon Alley. The accompanying article was horrifying; Rita Skeeter had indeed quoted Ginny who claimed that they planned to marry. There were many details that Harry could not attribute to any source but Ginny. Furious, he slammed the paper down and marched to his room to dress. He had a Weasley to confront.

That afternoon Severus was supervising four second years in detention. The little miscreants were scraping bird droppings off the statues in the courtyard, which he hoped would deter the Gryffindor menaces from ever again attempting to give a kitten growth potion in hopes it would become a lion. He lazily let his gaze sweep the courtyard; everything was quiet. Severus was startled, therefore, when a few minutes later Potter came storming out of the castle, broom in hand, striding rapidly towards the Quidditch pitch.

Less than a minute behind him was Ron Weasley. Stopping at the doors, Weasley scanned the area. Upon spotting Potter, he yelled, “Don't you walk away from me!”

Potter paused for a moment, shook his head, and kept walking. Weasley ran to catch up to him. When he did, he grabbed Potter's free arm and swung him around. Between the arm waving from Weasley and Potter's grim expression, Severus knew the two boys were arguing, but he was too far away to hear them. Weasley's face grew redder the more he talked. Potter kept his mouth closed, but his jaw was clenched and Severus could tell the brat was struggling to control his temper.

Severus headed towards the two, intent on breaking up the distasteful scene, when Weasley suddenly drew his arm back and punched Potter in the nose. The punch was powerful enough to draw blood. It should have seen him on his backside on the ground, but somehow the brat managed to keep his feet, only swaying a little. Severus hurried to reach them when Potter said something to make Weasley turn white and draw back his fist again.

He reached them in time to curtail Weasley's second punch with a judiciously placed hand on the offending arm. “Mr. Weasley, that will be fifty points from…”

“Severus, don't, please just let it go,” Harry asked softly.

“Potter, I cannot allow a Hogwarts student to…” Severus tried again.

Harry slowly shook his head. “It's between me and him; please just let it drop this once. Please.”

Severus released his hold on Weasley; he intended to do as Potter asked, but Weasley spoke up. “Do you think I want favors from your pet Death Eater? You're both nothing but filthy scum,” he spat viciously.

Harry laughed hollowly. “Never mind. Do with him as you will, I give up.” Everyone in the courtyard watched in astonishment as Harry Potter launched himself into the air after a running start on his broom. He rapidly flew out of sight.

Severus turned to Weasley without making any effort to disguise his malevolent glare. “I believe fifty points from Gryffindor for your assault on Harry will do for a start.” He paused to see if Weasley was going to protest. Seeing he wasn't, Severus continued, “Another twenty for insulting a professor. You'll serve detention with Mr. Filch every evening until the end of term.”

Weasley still did not protest, but he was slowly turning white, and even his freckles were paling. “And I will be informing Professor McGonagall of your reprehensible behavior. You are dismissed.”

Severus watched in dark amusement as the Weasley spawn spluttered helplessly before stiffly turning on his heel and running back to the castle. Severus took vicious satisfaction from calling out, “That will be an additional ten points from Gryffindor for running, Mr. Weasley.”

Turning back to dunderheads serving detention, he snapped, “What are you gaping at? Back to work or you will be here again tomorrow.”

After glaring the idiotic Gryffindors into submission, Severus went back over the confrontation with Weasley with malicious satisfaction. He nearly groaned aloud when he realized he'd called the brat `Harry'. The fact that he had slipped was bad enough. That he'd done so in front of a student was intolerable.

Harry flew hard and fast, trying to bleed off some of the anger the morning had caused. He couldn't believe his friends had done this to him, Ginny talking to Skeeter, Ron punching him. All he'd done was flirt with Ginny, maybe kiss her a few times, but he never said anything about a serious relationship. Frustrated, he made his way to the far side of the lake.

After dismissing the students from their detention, Severus set out to find Potter. Remembering the brat had mentioned the far side of the lake, he headed that direction, hoping to find him. After trudging for twenty minutes he finally saw Potter sitting on a boulder, smoking and listlessly tossing stones in the water. Severus leaned against the boulder and offered his silent company to the obviously upset young man.

Harry knew Snape was there, even though the man didn't say a word, but simply stood there. He appreciated the silent support. Eventually Harry started talking. “I'd been fooling around a little with Ginny. Just kissing and the like.”

Once Potter started speaking, Severus carefully climbed onto the boulder and sat beside him. Spying the open pack of cigarettes he took one for himself and lit it while he listened. “I told her that I didn't want anything serious, that I was only looking for some light-hearted fun. She said that she understood and that she wanted the same. Ginny said that with Ron around she never had the chance to experiment, and that we could just mess around a little.”

Harry shoved an impatient hand through his hair. Glancing over at Snape, he saw that the man was looking out over the lake, willing to simply listen. Harry heaved a sigh. “I've always thought of Ginny as a friend, so I talked to her about some of what I was learning. Guess she thought that meat I'd tell her everything. Two days ago she came and sat with me at the library where I was looking into ways to destroy the Horcruxes, and I had that list out. When she sat down I grabbed the list and put it away. She got angry that I wouldn't tell her what I was doing…” Harry trailed off. There was nothing more to say.

Snorting, Severus drawled, “So Miss Weasley decided that she would try to convince you of her sincerity by announcing her commitment to you in the Daily Prophet? I suppose the details on your prowess in bed were a misguided attempt to flatter you.”

“No. It was all done in revenge. I cornered her today in the common room. She admitted to contacting Skeeter and saying all that shite because she was mad at me. The whole marriage thing was all Skeeter's idea. Not that Ginny tried to discourage her,” Harry spat bitterly.

“And the reason behind Mr. Weasley's display of vitriol?” Severus queried.

Harry laughed cynically before offering, “I made his sister cry. Apparently calling Ginny `a malicious excuse for a shrew' is reason to punch your best mate in the face. Hermione just stood there the whole time, never saying a word.”

“Will you attempt to reconcile with them?” Severus tossed his cigarette into the lake.

“I don't know,” Harry said softly. “I don't know if they'll let me, or if I even want to. Worse, I lost my date to the Halloween ball.”

“Potter, as unfair as it may sound, you will have to exercise more caution in the future if you do not wish to see your love life plastered in the paper for the whole wizarding world to see. Choose a partner with more discretion and less of a temper,” Severus said. He knew it was unfair to the brat, but had no doubt that Potter would learn this lesson. Severus regretted that Potter had to learn it the hard way.

For several harmonious minutes they sat in silence, content to enjoy each other's company and watch the sun reflect off the lake. When Potter shifted, Severus noticed the dried blood on his face and said softly, “You should do something about that nose, Potter.” Severus tapped his own nose with a long finger. “Or you'll end up with one like this.”

Harry laughed with genuine humor this time. “Is that what happened to you? You made a girl cry and her brother punched you?”

“Something like that,” Severus said dismissively.

A couple of hours later Harry was aimlessly drifting through the halls in his invisibility cloak, nursing his wounded pride; Snape had repaired his nose. He couldn't stay still, but had no desire to speak to anyone. He was walking past the staff-room door when he heard voices. Curious, Harry quietly crept closer to the door. Seeing that it was ajar, he carefully peered in to see Headmaster Dumbledore deep in conversation with Moody. Seeing that Dumbledore was too distracted to notice him, Harry listened for a few minutes. He was shocked at what he heard.

“Albus, that boy is as dark as Snape. You have two dangerous dark wizards in this school, and what do you intend to do about it?” Moody said gruffly.

“I don't know yet that Harry is dark; there is a chance that he can be saved. As for Severus, as long as it remains in his best interest to deny his penchant for dark magic, he will do so. I am well aware that Severus will always look to his own best interest.” Dumbledore was pacing the room restlessly.

Moody turned to face the door and Harry was relieved to see him polishing his magical eye on his handkerchief, but the man's words were worrying. “So you're going to just let them go unchecked? For Merlin's sake, they're associating with that so-called Bar − another bunch of dark ones if you ask me.”

“Alastor, right now I need Harry and Severus to take care of the Horcruxes. When the threat of Voldemort has passed, I will do what is necessary to ensure that they are not a danger to society,” Dumbledore said firmly.

Stuffing his eye in his pocket, Moody grumbled, “How are you going to do that?”

“With Harry at Hogwarts I can monitor his activities. He and Severus are growing closer, and that will help keep Harry here. After he finishes his N.E.W.T's I hope to keep him too caught up in searching for the Horcruxes to have time to reach his full potential,” Dumbledore said.

“He hasn't already done that?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Harry is more powerful, magically, than I am, but he is untrained. I do not believe he poses a serious threat at this time.” His mien turned graver. “If he ever has the opportunity to obtain the skills of a Castitas Proeliator, I fear he would be unstoppable.”

“What in the bleeding hell is a Castis-whazit?” Moody demanded roughly.

“It is an old term for a true warrior of old. They were very powerful, but a law unto themselves. Harry has the capability of becoming one of the best of them.”

Moody pulled his eye out of his pocket and resumed polishing it. “We can't let that happen.”

“I know, Alastor, I know,” Dumbledore said with a sigh.

Harry had heard enough; he quietly backed away from the door before Moody got his eye back in and spotted him. He had to tell Snape what he'd overheard. What had Dumbledore meant about a true warrior? Harry and Snape weren't any danger to society. Hadn't they proven that by killing Voldemort? When he felt he was far enough away that they wouldn't hear him, Harry took off at a run to the dungeons.

He burst into Snape's office. “Where is the most secure place to talk? A place where there is no chance that we can be overheard? I have something very important to tell you,” Harry rushed to say.

Severus noted that Potter was breathing hard and had a panicked look in his eyes. Standing gracefully, he motioned for the brat to follow him, heading to his private lab. Once inside, Severus locked and warded the door. He arched a brow when he felt Potter adding a highly complex silencing charm to the room. With the amount of magic he felt flowing through the wards, he doubted Albus could break them.

Harry had calmed slightly on the walk to Snape's lab, but he was still upset. Spotting a stool, he dropped onto it. Looking Snape in the eye, he recounted the conversation he'd just overheard. Snape stood rigid through the tale, and for several minutes afterwards. Finally, Harry couldn't take the silence anymore. “What are we going to do about it?” he demanded mournfully. “And why in the bloody hell does Dumbledore think we'd ever be a danger?”

Severus had always known that Albus had doubted his commitment to the light, but to hear it spoken so plainly was unexpectedly painful. And that Albus would doubt his honor that was simply unforgivable. Severus turned to Potter and again felt an unexpected pain. The brat had only recently reconciled with Albus, and had to feel doubly betrayed. Severus gave the only comfort he could − a cold comfort.

“For now we do nothing. We will go on as if nothing has changed. We will use the old coot for his information on the Horcruxes. Once they are destroyed…perhaps it will be time to show our true colors,” Severus said harshly.

“What do you mean, our true colors?” Harry could read the hurt in Snape's stance; he regretted that he'd been the one to confirm what Snape had always feared. Dumbledore didn't trust him; of course the old fool didn't trust Harry either.

“Why, green and silver, Potter. Slytherin colors. We will show the old man that he is a fool to believe he could manipulate two Slytherins such as ourselves without serious ramifications,” Severus drawled ominously.

Harry was very glad that Snape's ire was not directed towards him. The man obviously had dire plans for the headmaster's future. “But I'm not a Slytherin.”

“You will be. You should have been all along.” Snape held Harry's eyes as he said softly, “I know what's on your back, Potter, and we will use the tactics of a snake to assure our vengeance.”

Harry nearly fell off his stool when he heard Snape's words. Okay, obviously this is where I'll be using the tactics of the snake. But how will I hone myself into razor sharpness? I never expected such a literal clue to what I thought to be a minor premonition. Guess I'll need to keep my ears open for the next part. Righting himself, he forced his attention back on Snape.

Snape picked up an empty vial and toyed with it restlessly. “You'll be the preeminent Slytherin when I've finished with you,” he said in a strangely gleeful tone, and Harry felt a frisson of fear run down his spine. I'm so glad I'm not the headmaster.

The night before the Halloween ball Harry had an unexpected guest. Luc stuck his head in the door of Harry's room, saying, “Brat, I have clothes for you appearance tomorrow night, so get out here.”

“What is it with you people and my name? It's Harry, not brat. And what's the deal with you dressing me all the time?” Harry groused. Reluctantly getting to his feet, he followed Luc into the sitting room.

“Come now, brat, you're a part of the Bar, you have to have a nickname,” Luc teased as he withdrew clothes from a bag on the couch.

“Personally I find `brat' suits you, Potter,” Severus drawled from his arm chair.

Rolling his eyes, Harry gave up, they'd call him whatever they pleased. “Yeah, yeah. Now what do you have for me to wear, oh master shopper?”

“Well, since you disdained a costume, I felt you should at least be dramatic. Go try these on, then come back, since you're too shy to change in front of us,” Luc teased as he handed Harry a pile of clothes and shooed him into the bathroom.

Harry didn't bother to respond to Luc's jibe; he closed the bathroom door and stripped. Picking up the clothes, he heaved a sigh over them and dressed. Once he was suitably attired, according to Luc, he headed back to the sitting room.

Severus examined the young man before him. Potter was dressed in black leather trousers with a blood red silk shirt. A black velvet dress robe was open over them; on the brat's feet were highly polished black boots. Severus couldn't stop his thoughts. Merlin, the things I could do to a body like that. Uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts, Severus shifted in his seat.

Potter is little more than a child, he reminded himself firmly. Acting on such desires would be inappropriate. Sternly turning away from temptation, he managed to say, “Well, you certainly look dramatic.”

“Severus, don't be so bloody obstinate, Harry looks devastatingly handsome,” Luc said. He turned to Harry and adjusted the robe. “You'll be turning away interested parties by the droves in that outfit. Plus it will photograph well. Red is a good color on you.”

Harry didn't see what the big deal was, although he liked the leather pants. He'd have to see about getting some more of those. Turning to Luc, he said, “I don't get why you go on about clothes. I mean, you just wear them to cover your naked body so you don't get arrested, right? So what's all the fuss?”

Throwing back his head, Severus roared with laughter. The brat certainly knew how to push Luc's buttons; he'd been trying to tell Luc the same thing for ages, only with a little more tact.

Sticking his nose in the air, Luc ignored Severus. “I don't know why I waste my time on you, brat. You keep disparaging all of my work,” he huffed to Harry.

“Sorry, you can keep picking out all my clothes for me if it makes you happy. I really don't care what I wear, as long I don't end up looking like Lockhart,” Harry offered. He found it relieving not to have to worry about what to wear; Luc was excellent at organizing his clothes so he didn't have to think about them.

“Well, at least the photographers will appreciate all my hard work. Don't worry, Harry, if you're going to be part of the Bar, I will ensure that your clothing meets the standards.”

Harry stood in a shadowy alcove of the entrance hall, avoiding the stares of the loitering students who waited for their dates from other houses. Rumor of his blow up with Ron and Ginny had spread all over the school; everyone was intent to know who his date would be. Hermione was avoiding him, and he hadn't even attempted to speak to Ron; he was still too hurt. Harry knew his date would cause a stir and was looking forward to it.

Speaking of dates, Harry's had just entered through the front doors. Gabriel strode in; his hair, unbound for once, flowed halfway down his back in a fall of black silk. His dark blue dress robes were open over a pair of black trousers and a silver shirt. Heads turned as he approached Harry. “Harry, stop hiding in the corner and let me look at you. Luc, the arse, wouldn't tell me what you were wearing tonight.”

“Gabriel, watch you mouth. There are kids here,” Harry said softly.

Shrugging indifferently, Gabriel ran his eyes over Harry. “You really do look edible. I might be tempted to nibble on you later,” he said with a rakish leer.

“Shut up, it's time to go inside,” Harry said, blushing lightly. Accepting the arm Gabriel offered, Harry allowed the older man to steer him around the crowd and into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was decorated for the event; huge carved pumpkins dotted the floor. Live bats flew throughout the room, and the ceiling was a wash of stars. Black and orange tablecloths covered the hundreds of small tables set along the edges of the Great Hall.

Spotting Ginny, Dean, Ron and Hermione sitting together at a table on the opposite side of the hall, Harry tensed. Following his gaze, Gabriel gave the glowering quartet a dashing bow and a wicked wink. Quickly looking away, the foursome started talking intently.

Gabriel turned his attention to Harry and pulled out a chair. Once Harry sat, he took his own before saying, “Harry, don't pay any attention to that lot tonight. Enjoy yourself; I know I intend to enjoy you.”

Unused to the flirting but pleased, Harry grinned at Gabriel and turned his attention to the headmaster, who was standing ready to open the ball. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dumbledore began, “I'm happy to see you all here tonight. We have much to celebrate and be thankful for, but let us not forget the dark times and what they have taught us. On this night when the veil between our world and the one of the dead is so thin, let us remember those that have given their lives so that we might gather here tonight. I ask for moment of silence in their honor.”

The crowd was silent and Harry bowed his head as he thought of his parents, Cedric, and Sirius. So much death and it's not over yet. Snape's right, we'll use Dumbledore to put an end Tom's threat. No matter how angry I am at the headmaster, that has to come first. The memories of his family gave Harry added incentive to fuel his act for the headmaster. It wouldn't do to let the old man know they were wise to him.

“Now it is time to make merry. I encourage you all to have a delightful evening.” Dumbledore finished speaking and sat down.

They sat chatting comfortably for several minutes before Gabriel asked, “Tell me, do you like to dance or are we going to just sit here all night looking devastating?”

“I don't really know how to dance. Only really tried it once,” Harry admitted.

“Well you've never tried dancing with me; I promise it is an unforgettable experience.” Gabriel gracefully got to his feet and held out a hand.

Hesitating a moment before placing his hand in Gabriel's, Harry followed him onto the dance floor. Taking Harry's other hand, Gabriel drew them both up around his neck and whispered, “All you have to do is hold on and follow my lead.” The puffs of air from the softly spoken words sent shivers down Harry's spine. Gabriel slipped both arms around Harry's waist and tugged him closer. He started moving to the music, gently guiding Harry around the floor, easily avoiding the other often clumsy dancers.

Dancing with Gabriel was a much different experience than dancing with Parvati. She'd spent more time trying to see who was watching her with the Triwizard Champion than paying attention to him. Harry had no doubts as to what held Gabriel's attention; the piercing blue eyes never left his face.

Severus hid in a dark corner, arms folded across his chest; he couldn't quite place what he felt when he saw Gabriel dancing so close to Potter. The tightness in his chest that accompanied the feeling was disconcerting. Disdaining to give the unsettling feeling a thought, he simply ignored it. He was accustomed to ignoring his feelings; they were often too intense and annoyed him. Severus quickly bit back a hiss of frustration when he saw the headmaster approach him; he'd been trying to avoid the man for days.

“Severus, are you enjoying the evening?” Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling full blast tonight.

“No, I am not enjoying this disgusting display of teenage hormones, Albus. You know I despise such revolting affairs,” Severus hissed in annoyance.

Chuckling softly, Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth. “Now, Severus, the children need to unwind. It has been a most stressful time. It appears young Harry has embraced the spirit of the evening. He and his date seem to be enjoying themselves.”

Severus watched as Potter laughed up at Gabriel. He clenched a fist as the tightness in his chest increased. “The brat came because I insisted. Misery loves company, since I was forced to attend and be miserable I saw no reason he should escape.”

Laughing, the headmaster patted Severus' arm. “I have no doubt you'll survive this ordeal. I must circulate now, but I wanted to ask that you and Harry come to tea next week. I believe I have some information on our project,” Dumbledore said.

“Very well, Headmaster, I'll speak with Potter and let you know when he is available,” Severus drawled.

After several dances Gabriel led Harry out into the garden and into a secluded alcove. The music could still be heard faintly. “I couldn't hold you as close as I wanted to in there,” Gabriel breathed.

He slid his arms tightly around Harry's waist, pulling him against his body and began to sway slowly. Harry returned his arms to their former position around Gabriel's neck, this time sliding them under the unbound hair. He was startled to feel a shiver run through the body pressed against his. Harry looked up at his partner, and Gabriel leaned down and pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry tentatively swiped his tongue over Gabriel's lips; the older man chuckled softly as he opened to the questing tongue. Harry took his time exploring the other man's mouth, running his tongue along strong teeth then past, and encountering Gabriel's cooperative tongue.

Allowing the gentle exploration for several moments before sliding his hands in Harry's hair, Gabriel thrust his tongue in the willing mouth. He pushed Harry against the wall and pressed his body firmly against Harry's. Moving one hand from the boy's hair to his waist, Gabriel pulled him closer still.

Several heated kisses later Gabriel slowly pulled back and simply held Harry close. After a moment the older man moaned, “I'm too old for this shite anymore.”

Quickly removing his hands from their perch around Gabriel's neck, Harry tried to take a step back. Fearing rejection because of his inexperience, he tensed, but Gabriel held him still and looked him in the eye. “It's not what you're thinking, Harry. All I meant was I'm too old to be snogging up against a wall like this. It's the domain of teenagers.”

“Well, I am a teenager, and you're the one that kissed me first,” Harry said. He had no doubt he'd be more than willing to kiss Gabriel all night. Since that wasn't an option, he took a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing pulse.

Gabriel laughed softly. “Okay, so we'll blame our hormones then, yours for encouraging me to snog against the wall and mine for being unable to resist you fiddling with my hair.”

He squeezed Harry tightly for a moment, then groaned, “We can't go back in there like this.”

“Like what?” questioned Harry.

Looking pointedly at Harry's groin, Gabriel then gestured to his own. “Like this.”

Harry felt his face heat up, but couldn't repress the grin. “Guess we'll just have to wait it out.”

“I have a better idea. Laughter is the best medicine for whatever ails you,” Gabriel stated. “There was this couple that went to a counselor for marital advice. The counselor advised two weeks of celibacy, the couple agreed.”

Gabriel flashed Harry a mischievous grin as he continued, “Two weeks later they came back, and the counselor asked if they remained celibate. The man said, `Well, doc, the wife bent over to pick up a shoe, and I just had to let her have it.' The counselor informed them if they couldn't abide by the advice they couldn't come back. The husband responded, `that's okay they'll never let us back in the shoe store again either.'”

Laughter did do the trick; Harry was too busy laughing to worry about any physical signs of his arousal. Gabriel joined in Harry's laughter, saying, “Can't believe you hadn't heard that one.”

Shortly afterwards, the two reentered the Great Hall and joined the dancers on the floor. Suddenly a reporter popped up; Harry blinked in surprise as a flash went off in his face. He dropped his head to Gabriel's shoulder and groaned, “Oh, not her… this is not my night.”

After lowering the camera from her face, Rita Skeeter gave Harry a feral grin. “Harry Potter, it has been positively vexatious to get an opportunity to speak with you,” she purred. “Your advocates and your mentor are quite… ferocious in keeping you to themselves.” Rita leered at him.

“What do you want?” Harry asked wearily as he released Gabriel.

Rita quickly put away the camera in her large bag and pulled out an acid green quill and a notepad. “Just a couple of questions, dear,” she started.

Harry eyed the quill with trepidation. “I'm not talking to you unless you put away your poisoned quill, Skeeter,” he stated firmly.

Having noticed the aggravating reporter corner Potter, Severus stalked over to offer his protection if it were to be needed. Standing behind the brat, he scowled darkly at Skeeter. “You need not speak to her at all, it is your choice.”

“I might as well answer a few questions, as long as she promises to write what I say, not whatever shite she feels like making up.” Harry glared at the reporter until she reluctantly put away the green quill and dug out a plain one.

“Satisfied?” she asked petulantly.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. “Just ask your questions already. I don't fancy spending all night with you.”

Leering at Gabriel, Rita batted her eyelashes. “No, that pleasure seems to fall to this stunning man here. Tell me, Harry, where did the two of you meet?”

“I'm not talking to you about my personal life. Pick another subject,” Harry growled.

“But that's what my readers want to know about. Harry Potter's sordid affairs! You threw over Ginny Weasley for this… gentleman. Makes for titillating reading.” She waited, quill poised above the notepad.

Barely resisting the low level urge to hex her with something mildly painful, Harry said, “I didn't throw anybody over. Gabriel and I are friends. Next subject.”

“Ginny Weasley feels differently, why don't you tell me…” she began.

“You have exactly five seconds to change the subject or I will take a great deal of pleasure in forcibly ejecting you from the hall. The choice is yours,” Severus drawled silkily, his tone leaving no doubt as to which option he preferred.

Rita humphed sulkily. “Well, tell me about your association with the highly disreputable Bar Sinister. Is it true that together you plan to overthrow the Ministry?”

“There is no plot to overthrow the bloody Ministry; actually, there are no plots at all. The Bar is tutoring me so that I can take my N.E.W.T's, and assisting me with my newfound responsibilities,” Harry stated firmly. Skeeter was annoying him; all her questions were insulting and pointless.

“Lady, and I use that term loosely, you will curb your tongue when you speak of the Bar or I will curb it for you,” Gabriel growled.

Rita's eyes widened at the threat and she changed the subject, slightly. “What about the rumor that you defeated He Who Must Not Be Named with dark magic? Who taught you the dark arts? Snape here?” Rita waited with bated breath to scribble the answers.

“I used Black magic, not dark magic. Get your facts straight before you go running off at the mouth. And it's Professor Snape to you. Show some respect.” The urge to curse the witch was growing faster the longer Harry remained in Skeeter's presence.

“That's another topic of interest. Why would you subject yourself to Snape's mentoring? The enmity between you is practically the stuff of legends,” Rita pounced on the subject with glee.

Harry sighed. “Professor Snape and I settled our differences and I have nothing but respect for him.” He continued earnestly, “He has always gone out of his way to help me. Without him I would have died my first year at Hogwarts. I'm quite proud that he believed I'd be a worthy apprentice.”

“But to put yourself under the care of an obviously dark wizard and to associate yourself with a questionable group as the Bar, Harry, the public wants to know if you're being corrupted. Are they grooming you to be the next Dark Lord?” The gleam in Rita's eyes was hard and sharp as she waited for a response, undeterred by the fierce glare from Severus.

“That's it, lady. I warned you once and you just blew your only chance,” Gabriel broke in. “It's time for you to leave; you're not interested in answers, you're fishing for gossip to sell that disgrace you call a newspaper.”

Gabriel grasped Skeeter's arm and ignored her spluttering as he escorted her to the doors. When the pair reached the doors he held a short conversation with Hagrid before handing over his burden to the huge man and waving them off.

“I hate that woman. She always manages to piss me off.” Harry watched as she was herded out of the building by Hagrid and Gabriel was waylaid by a bold seventh year Ravenclaw.

Giving him an unreadable look, Snape said softly, “You handled her well, Potter. You should reclaim your date and enjoy the remainder of the evening.” Turning with swirl of his cloak, he quickly strode away. I am not jealous of Gabriel, Severus told himself resolutely. He ignored the painful twinge in his chest as he sought out a shadowed corner.

Shrugging at Snape's abrupt departure, Harry set out to follow his advice. After rescuing Gabriel from the fawning girl, he spent the rest of the evening in his date's relaxing company.

Winter Break, part one

December 1996

December blew in with three inches of snow and bitter cold. Harry sat huddled in his cloak, on his rock on the far side of the lake, trying to keep out the cold that lingered despite the warming charm he'd cast around the boulder. “Why are we out here again? It's too bloody cold,” he asked crabbily.

“Hush, brat, the fresh air will do you some good. You've been studying far too much,” Devlin replied. He was sitting on the boulder shoulder to shoulder with Harry. “Give me one of those fags I know you have.”

Sighing, Harry pulled out the pack and took one for himself before passing it to Devlin. “Why are you always taking mine? I thought you were rich, can't you afford your own?”

“Of course I can afford my own, you impertinent brat,” Devlin growled. “I simply have a horrible time remembering where I left them. Other than my wand I always forget where I've left things.” Lighting a cigarette, he returned the pack to Harry. Leaning back on his elbows, he turned to Harry and flashed a wicked grin. “Drives Vane up the wall when I've lost something again… That alone makes me not try too hard to keep track of them.”

Harry laughed at the image that provoked; they sat for several minutes smoking in companionable silence. Finally, turning to Devlin, Harry asked worriedly, “Am I ready? Do you think I can pass my N.E.W.T's?”

“Still worried about taking them a year and a half early? Don't be. With the level of private tutoring you've received, I expect you will surpass your wildest expectations,” Devlin said softly before drawling arrogantly, “Besides, with the Bar's superior assistance, how could you expect anything less?”

Harry looked out over the frozen lake. “Conceited git,” he grumbled. “I know I've learned a lot the last five months, but I only have a few weeks left till I have to take the damn things. I don't want to let you and Severus down; you've put so much effort into helping me,” Harry said soberly.

Devlin sighed and sat up. “Harry, look at me.” Harry turned his eyes to the pale green ones of Devlin. “You're a smart kid. There is no doubt in my mind that you will do an outstanding job on your N.E.W.T's. If I thought you weren't ready, I would tell you, but you are. As long as you try your best, you could never let me down and I know Severus feels the same, even if the uptight bastard will never admit to it.”

After a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded. “I hope you're right. And thanks, I'm going to give it my best,” he vowed vehemently.

Late the next afternoon Harry sat on the floor of Snape's sitting room, wandlessly levitating three cauldrons. He was trying to lift a fourth when they started teetering. He tried desperately to stabilize them, but could only watch with growing dread as they started falling. Oh shite was Harry's last thought before the world went black.

Severus entered his quarters after a tiring day of attempting to cram information into dunderheads too concerned with the upcoming holidays to attend to their potions. As he passed by the doorway, he heard a resounding crash; turning towards the fireplace, he watched in horror as an iron cauldron fell onto Potter's head. Heedless of the other two falling cauldrons, he dashed to the brat's side. Blood was pouring from a cut on the top of Potter's head. The young man's eyes were closed and for a moment Severus feared the worst, until he noticed Potter's chest rise and fall.

Quickly pulling out his emergency potion supplies from his robe, he hurriedly poured a wound-closing potion on the cut. Seeing it seal up, he gently palpitated Potter's head and neck, checking for any further injuries. Having found none, Severus pulled out a pain draught and returned the pouch to its pocket. After casting a cleaning charm to remove the blood, he maneuvered Potter's head into his lap and waited impatiently for him to return to consciousness.

Someone was running their fingers through his hair. Oh that feels nice, he thought absently.

A firm thigh shifted beneath his head, and Harry realized he was lying on someone's lap. Pain suddenly crashed down on him, making him moan. Gentle hands shifted him till he was leaning against a firm, obviously male chest, and a cold glass was pressed to his lips.

“Harry, drink this. It will stop the pain,” Severus said gently.

Harry drank the potion and dropped his head back onto a strong shoulder. It was comfortable leaning on Snape this way; who would have thought the man could be so warm? Snape had one arm around his waist, holding him upright; the other took up its former task of running through Harry's hair. Held tightly against Snape's body, surrounded by the heat the man put off, Harry relaxed and felt the pain ebb away.

A few minutes later he heard, “Up on the couch with you.” Snape disengaged himself and helped Harry to his feet and over to the couch. Gently pushing him down, Snape examined his head and asked, “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“No, just my head, but it's already feeling better,” Harry assured quietly.

“Are you sure? No pain, dizziness, or nausea?” Severus queried.

Harry looked at Snape, surprised to see that the man actually looked worried. “No, the pain's almost gone now.”

“Good.” Severus took a step back and paced before the fireplace for several moments; then: “Has all of the pain gone now?”

“Yeah, head feels normal now, thanks.” Harry was beginning to worry about Snape; the man looked almost frantic. It had only been a cauldron after all; Harry had had worse injuries playing Quidditch.

Severus looked Potter over. His eyes were dilating and focusing properly; the brat could hold a normal conversation, and he wasn't holding his head… all signs pointed to a full recovery. Good. “What in Merlin's name were you thinking?” he yelled suddenly. “Levitating cast iron cauldrons above your head, do you have no sense? Of course you don't, you're a fucking Gryffindor…” Severus ranted.

“Now wait a minute, it was an accident. It's not like I wanted to drop the bloody things,” Harry protested.

Severus glared. “An accident? You could have cracked your thick skull, or broken your neck. You could have gotten blood on my carpet.”

“Your bloody carpet? You're worried about your carpet? Nice to know where I rank − below the carpet,” Harry spat.

“You should have more sense than to practice complex charms alone. You're nothing but an irresponsible, immature brat who thinks of nothing but himself,” Severus said crossly.

Standing quickly, Harry glared at Snape. What had caused this reaction? “And you're just an uptight, spiteful bastard with the sensitivity of a troll.”

Straightening to his full height, Severus gave Potter his most intimidating scowl before he drawled silkily, “I haven't begun to be a bastard yet, boy. You will cease your insults in my quarters, you ungrateful little pest.”

“You can kiss my arse, Snape,” Harry said hatefully, and stormed out.

The sound of the slamming door echoed in the room as Severus spitefully kicked a cauldron to the side and dropped into a chair. It was possible he'd overreacted to Potter's injury. Oh who am I kidding, I did far more than overreact. I purposely provoked the brat into a screaming row because he scared me. I never intended to care about the brat; never intended to let him close enough that he could scare me. Severus sighed. Now to find Potter and apologize, no matter how distasteful he would find the task.

Severus stood in the entrance hall, slowly realizing he had no idea where Potter would have gone. A snow storm had blown in and it was bitterly cold; surely the brat would not have gone outside. Heaving a sigh, Severus concentrated on the locating charm on the necklace he'd given Potter. After a moment he pinpointed Potter's location, the Astronomy Tower. Did the boy have no sense? He'd stormed out without his cloak and ran to the coldest tower.

Climbing the steep spiral staircase, Severus could feel the cold before he reached the door. He opened the door and stepped onto the tower, seeing Potter sitting in one of the embrasures. “Potter, get away from the edge,” he said sharply.

Harry sat so still it was as if he'd become part of the crenulations. “Go away,” he said through gritted teeth.

Severus sighed. “I wish to speak to you. I find it hard to do so with you dangling over the edge like that.”

Pulling his legs back over the edge, Harry pulled himself upright and turned to Snape. “Have you come to spew more insults? Perhaps to tell me I managed to get blood on your precious rug?” he spat bitterly.

“Potter…” Severus began.

Harry eyes were shadowed with a mix of hurt and anger as he overrode Snape. “What's so special about that carpet anyway? Did you…”

“Sod the bloody carpet, Potter, you scared the shite out of me with that stunt!” Severus interrupted with a yell. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, forcing his tone of voice into submission. “Damn it, brat, somehow you always provoke me into screaming at you.”

Harry laughed hollowly. “Yeah, well, you do the same to me,” he said. His mind whirled at what Snape had just admitted; taking a deep breath, Harry offered softly, “I didn't mean to scare you. I was just practicing my wandless magic.”

“It is possible I overreacted to the situation,” Severus allowed, and added grudgingly, “I should not have insulted you like that. It was uncalled for.”

Harry snorted. “What, you should have said I was an immature boy in another way?”

“I don't think that of you,” Severus said softly. “I have difficulty expressing… concern for someone… close to me.” He hated the struggle for words, but trying to express his emotions verbally was not something Severus was comfortable with. Perhaps he could show it with actions instead. He noticed Potter shivering and opened his thick cloak. “Come here, brat, you must be freezing.”

Recognizing the apology intrinsic in that action, Harry slowly stepped into Snape's open arms. He felt the man's strong arms enfold him in the warmth of the cloak and sighed. “I'm sorry for calling you names, too.”

Laughing, Severus tightened his arms around Potter's back. “Your insults are improving. Sensitivity of a troll, indeed.” He rested his cheek on Potter's head, strangely content with the brat in his arms. He would worry about that later, much, much later.

“They can help us, why shouldn't we tell them?” Harry demanded.

Severus sighed. It had been three days since their argument and he was not looking forward to another. “Potter, it is not always wise to lay all your cards on the table. It is often best to have something in reserve. You never know when you might need it.”

Harry sprawled on the couch. “Are you saying they're not trustworthy?”

“No, that is not what I'm saying,” Severus said coldly. He sat in his armchair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All I'm attempting to say is that I am unused to simply giving away vital information without receiving something in return.”

Harry sat up and faced Snape. Looking into his eyes intently, he said, “But we are getting something in return. Their help.” Seeing Snape start to disagree, he rushed to say, “Look, teaching takes up most of your time, and I don't know enough to do it myself. Between you and Luc we would have the best chance of discovering how to destroy the pieces of Tom's soul.”

Putting aside his automatic reaction, Severus listened; Potter was making sense. He waved his hand, gesturing for him to continue.

Harry let out a relieved breath and marshaled his arguments. “Gabriel is a master at wards, you've said so yourself. He could help with that.” Harry looked to see if Snape was still listening, continuing, “The way Vane's mind works, he could help us locate them. If you add Devlin and the others, there is no chance we would fail. Severus, I really believe asking the Bar to help with the Horcruxes is the best way to go.”

Sitting back, Harry gave Snape space to think about his argument. After several minutes passed in silence, Harry added what he believed would be the deciding factor. “Plus, you'll have people as devious as you are to plan your revenge against Dumbledore.”

Severus chuckled darkly. “That is if Devlin can keep from simply hexing the headmaster into oblivion. When it comes to those he considers his, Devlin can be surprisingly direct.”

“They really would be a help, Severus. We should tell them,” Harry said insistently.

Taking a moment, Severus examined Potter's idea from all sides and had to agree that the benefits would outweigh the risks. Reluctantly pushing aside his innate desire to hoard information, Severus said, “I agree. The Bar should be told. Their help would be invaluable. It is fortuitous that I am free this holiday, as no Slytherins are staying behind.”

“Great! So we'll spend the Christmas holidays at the house. I've always wanted to have lots of company at Christmas, we can invite them whenever,” Harry enthused.

“Hmm, if you insist. I'll see to the arrangements; perhaps the Bar will be free to meet as soon as the holiday starts.” Suiting word to deed, Severus knelt on the hearth and made his fire-call.

Harry had a difficult time keeping the smug grin off his face. Snape actually listened and gave in to one of his ideas. He was still basking in the feeling when Snape lifted his head from the fire.

“We have been invited to spend the holidays at Sinister Place. It seems that the Bar has decided to use the time to help you review for your N.E.W.T's, if you wish,” Severus repeated the offer he'd just received.

Harry smiled happily. “That would be great. I've never been invited to spend Christmas with anyone before. Is it okay with you?”

“Potter, as long as I don't have to spend my holiday surrounded by menaces on a sugar-high I will be content,” Severus drawled. “I'll inform Luc that we will be there as soon as term has ended and the miscreants are on the train.”

The first day of winter break was clear and cold; those that were leaving Hogwarts to spend Christmas with their families had just boarded the train. Harry and Severus' bags were packed and sent with Dobby to Sinister Place. Severus needed to attend one last detail, and then they'd be free to leave. Locating the headmaster, who was sucking a lemon drop, halfway down the platform, Severus strode quickly to his side.

“Headmaster, Devlin and the Bar have asked me to extend their invitation for you to spend Christmas day at Sinister Place,” he said smoothly.

Dumbledore smiled and twinkled. “I look forward to it, Severus. I must admit to being curious about them. What time shall I arrive for the festivities?”

“The festivities,” Severus sneered, “should start at noon. Shall we expect you then?”

“I would not miss it for all the lemon drops in the world,” Dumbledore said happily.

“Then I will wish you a pleasant holiday, Albus. Potter and I are expected shortly.” Inclining his head in farewell, Severus strode off the platform.

Twenty minutes later, Harry stumbled out of the Floo, but managed to keep his feet. Hearing applause, he looked around to see Luc and Vane waiting in the entrance hall. “Much better, Harry, I'm sure your face is grateful that you are learning the proper way to exit the Floo,” Luc mocked.

Rolling his eyes, Harry cleared the way for Snape, who exited the Floo with the grace that controlled all of his movements. “Happy Christmas, Vane. Luc, bite me,” Harry said pleasantly.

“Where and when, brat?” Luc asked with a feral smile, showing all his teeth.

Vane quickly intervened before the two started bickering again. “Harry, Devlin is waiting for you in the library. He wants to get started on your revision.”

Harry nodded and headed out of the room. When he brushed past Luc, Luc growled at him. Smiling brashly, Harry leaned close and whispered, “How you would like to sleep upside down stuck to the wall? This time I'd silence you so nobody would help you.” Luc winced. Satisfied, Harry whistled jauntily as he walked to the library.

The day passed in a fury of revision, for Harry had been given outlines of what to study in every subject he planned to take a N.E.W.T in. Tired after the long day, Harry was relieved when dinner was served. The roast lamb was excellent and filling, and when everyone finished the meal they adjourned to the study. When everyone was settled and had a drink, Harry brought up the subject of the Horcruxes.

“I need your help,” he began.

“Harry, you know we're here for you, all you have to do is ask,” Gabriel said.

Devlin threw a pillow at Gabriel. “I think that's what he was doing. If you would shut up, maybe he'd tell us how we can help.” Ducking the pillow the young man threw in retaliation, Devlin looked at Harry and said, “Go on then, brat, you have our attention.”

Grinning at the exchange, Harry continued, “The headmaster gave us some information about the Horcruxes, but claims he doesn't have any idea where they might be or how to destroy them.” Sipping his drink, Harry gathered his thoughts. “I need your help with locating them and figuring out how to get rid of them. Severus is too busy with teaching to devote a lot of time to it, and I have no clue where to begin.”

Vane spoke up, “Why don't you tell us what you do know, then we can plan from there.”

“You'll help me then?” Harry asked.

Harry didn't duck in time to avoid the pillow that struck him in the face. “Of course we'll help you. I've said it before: you're one of us. Anything you need, we'll help with. Anything,” Devlin growled.

“Touching. Do you wish to hear about the Horcruxes or are you to busy bonding with Potter?” Severus sneered.

Severus did duck in time; he glared at Devlin who grinned unabashedly. “Do hush, Severus. You're one of us too, but you're too uptight to ask for help. Now tell us what you know about the Horcruxes,” Devlin demanded lazily.

Severus spent the next ten minutes detailing all they currently knew about the Horcruxes and the memories that the headmaster had spoken of. Everyone sat deep in thought until Harry spoke again.

“Oh, and Dumbledore thinks that Severus and I are dark. He told Moody that after we took care of the Horcruxes he'd make sure we weren't a threat to society,” Harry blurted out.

“He said what?” Devlin spoke in the cold, hard voice that Harry hadn't heard since the day they'd met.

Sebastian spoke for the first time. “You had better explain before the git does something rash. I don't fancy bribing the guards at the Ministry holding cells again.”

Filing that intriguing information away for future taunting material, Severus hurried to explain what Potter had overheard. Once he'd explained, he added in an ominous tone, “I have no intention of allowing this insult from Dumbledore to go without redress. But now is not the time. He has information that we need.”

Expression hard and unyielding, Devlin sat in silence; eventually he nodded stiffly. Seeing Devlin would wait for the right time, Spencer summed up the situation. “So we have two problems. One, we need to locate and destroy the Horcruxes. At the same time, we need the old man for information, but can't trust that he'll refrain from doing something stupid if his principles are ruffled.”

“I think that covers it,” Harry said. He hadn't truly believed Snape when he said that Devlin would be upset on his behalf; the thought of someone else willing to defend him was a warm balm to Harry's wounded self-esteem.

“When Harry finishes his N.E.W.T's, he will come here. He can work on his mastery and research the Horcruxes from Sinister Place as easily as he could at Hogwarts.” There was no yielding in Devlin's tone.

Severus sighed; Devlin tended to be overprotective of his family, and it appeared that he had added Harry to that category. Before he could intervene, Potter spoke.

“Don't I get a say in where I'll be living?” Harry asked.

“As long as you say `yes'; otherwise you'll do as you're told,” Devlin drawled.

Barely restraining his temper, Harry glared at Devlin. “Where do you get off ordering me around? I'm not some kid that has to obey your commands.”

Taking a nonchalant sip of his whiskey, Devlin stated forcefully, “You will be moving to Sinister Place when you've completed your exams.”

Harry set aside his glass. Getting to his feet, he declared in an unyielding tone, “I'll live where I choose. Nobody will ever again make decisions for me, not even you.” He turned to the group watching the exchange and nodded. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Severus watched as Potter exited the room with his shoulders squared and head held high. He observed Devlin's apparent fight to call him back and force Potter to do his will with amusement. He noted with pleasure that Potter had learned to control his anger. “At least you were spared the brat's tendency towards pouring a drink over your head,” he drawled.

Ignoring the heated glare from Devlin, Severus added, “You might find him more cooperative if you simply tell him you are concerned for his safety. Are you not the one that noticed Potter does poorly with having his decisions made for him?”

“You have no objections to Harry leaving Hogwarts?” Devlin asked.

Severus considered that question. It would be in Potter's best interest to be outside the headmaster's reach. That reason negates the fact that I will miss him. It is difficult to believe that the brat has managed to worm himself into my life so far in such a short time. That I find myself capable of putting another's wellbeing above my own willingly is something of a shock.


“No, I have no objection if Potter wishes to move in here. I have recently discovered that Potter's wellbeing is one of my priorities,” Severus said softly.

Sighing, Devlin admitted, “I've discovered that as well. Will you tell him he should move in here?”

“I will not. If Potter comes to me and asks my advice, I will give it,” Severus said, adding, “but I will not demand that he do anything. Indeed, I doubt he would allow it.”

Vane grinned and said, “Face it, Devlin; you're going to have to break down and talk to Harry. I know you hate explaining yourself, but if you want him here, you'll have to.”

Devlin rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know. Well, excuse me while I go explain myself to the brat.”

“Do you want me to go talk to him for you, Devlin? He might listen to me,” Gabriel offered.

“No. I fucked up, I'll make it right,” Devlin said.

Sprawled in an armchair in his room, Harry absently threw balls of Black fire at the door. Watching as they harmlessly impacted before dissolving, he brooded over Devlin's high-handed decree. I wouldn't mind living here, but I won't allow him to order me around like some dumb kid. Other than Snape, there's no one I would really miss at Hogwarts, and I could still see him easily enough. Harry was so lost in thought he didn't hear the soft knock on his door.

Having thrown another ball of flames at the door just as it opened, Harry watched in amusement as Devlin yelped and dropped to the floor. “It won't burn you. Right now it won't burn anything,” he drawled indolently.

“For Merlin's sake, do you have to throw fire in the house? You scared the shite out of me,” Devlin griped as he picked himself off the floor. Observing the Black flames in Harry's hand with interest, he asked, “You say it won't burn anything right now?”

“Yeah, here, catch.” Harry tossed a fireball to Devlin and watched the indecision race across Devlin's face before the older man quickly snaked out a hand and caught it. “See, no heat.”

Devlin closely examined the fire he held, before passing it hand to hand for a moment. “This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen. How do you control the heat? And how are you keeping it alive?” he asked, awed.

“It's all willpower. I don't want the flames to burn, so they don't. I want it to shape itself in a ball and stay that way, so it does,” Harry stated. “Can't really explain it, kind of just is. Black fire does what I want it to.”

Passing the fire back to Harry, Devlin said, “Like I wish you would do for me.”

Tensing in his chair, Harry looked Devlin in the eye. “I won't allow you to order me around, Devlin. If you have suggestions, I'll listen, but I'll decide what's best for me. I've spent too many years following orders like a good boy, I can't do it again.”

Devlin sighed and gestured towards the matching armchair. “May I sit? I promise we'll talk about it. I won't try to force you to do anything.”

Shrugging, Harry waved permission. He sat silently, waiting for Devlin to start; he'd already made his feelings known.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have demanded that you do anything. I don't have the right,” Devlin said softly.

Harry looked at the other man intently. “Then why did you do it? You can't have thought I'd simply go along with your decree.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Devlin spoke roughly, “Harry, I don't like you so close to that insane old fool. I want you safe. I want you where I can assure your safety, personally.”

“I get your motives for why you want me here. But what I don't get is why you just demanded it. You could have tried asking me,” Harry said.

“Because you're part of the Bar…” Devlin began.

Harry sighed and interrupted, “I know, you've said so before, but I don't see how that's relevant.”

“But I don't think you understand,” Devlin said softly, found Harry's eyes with his own and declared, “Harry, being part of the Bar means you're part of my family. I would fight to protect you just as fiercely as I would for Gabriel, Vane, or any of them. You are part of me.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Harry murmured, “I didn't realize.” They sat quietly for several minutes while Harry absorbed the fact that he was part of a family again. His voice was less confrontational when he finally asked, “And that makes it okay to demand my obedience?”

Devlin snorted. “No, just means I get to try and you get to yell about it. In the end we'll sit down like this and talk it out,” he said before adding, “I can't change who I am. It is my nature to demand first, instead of ask. Comes from being the oldest of this unruly lot.”

“Oh, and it has nothing to do with your natural arrogance?” Harry asked with a smirk.

Devlin raised an eyebrow and spoke in that cold voice of his, “Mr. Potter, are you accusing me of being a vainglorious man?”

“If that's the same as an overbearing git, then yes,” Harry said with a laugh at Devlin's posing.

In his normal tone Devlin said, “You're still impertinent and defiant, but that's why I like you so much. Harry, I really do think it's best that you come here after your exams, but I'm asking you this time. Will you at least think about it?”

“What's the general consensus on the subject down there?” Harry asked.

At Devlin's innocent shrug, Harry snorted. “I'm young, not stupid. I know you talk about me when I'm not around.”

Devlin gave up the pretense, and offered, “Everyone agrees it is in your best interest to remove yourself from Hogwarts and to get as far from that controlling old fool as you can.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought, too. Guess I'll be moving in,” Harry said with a grin.

Winter Break part two

December 1996

The days before Christmas were full of studying for Harry. He went to sleep each night with magical theory and potion ingredients running through his head. When Christmas morning arrived, Harry was relieved that at least he'd have one day free from the N.E.W.T work.

He woke at his normal time of six, unable to sleep any longer. Deciding that if he couldn't sleep, he might as well wake the others, starting with Snape, he quietly slipped out of bed. Silently entering the room across the hall, Harry waited for a moment to make sure he was undetected. Snape was still asleep. Lying on his back, the man had one arm across his stomach, the other behind his head. Snape slept in only a pair of black silk sleep pants, and his bare chest was clearly visible in the soft light of dawn.

Harry was mildly surprised to see how well-muscled Snape's chest and stomach were. He'd known the man was strong, but never considered what that meant for his body. Tiptoeing to the side of the bed, Harry gave in to temptation. Gently, he lifted one strand of Snape's black hair, surprised to find it wasn't greasy at all, but very soft. He grinned as he used the lock of hair to tickle the long nose.

The hand that had been under Snape's head suddenly shot out, grasped Harry around the waist and tugged him off-balance onto Snape's chest. Before Harry could squawk in protest, he was roughly flipped over onto his back and pinned underneath Snape's hard body.

Looking down at the intruder, Severus groaned. “Potter, what are you doing here?”

“Its Christmas morning, time to get up,” was the response. Severus glared down at Potter and ignored his traitorous body's urgings to keep the brat right where he was. Rolling off the warm body under him, Severus tossed Potter a pillow and said, “Go back to sleep, it's too damn early.”

Harry snatched the pillow before it could hit him in the face. Pouting a little, he climbed under the covers and snuggled down, muttering, “If I could sleep I'd still be doing it.”

“Be quiet. If you wake me again before eight I will fix it so that you never pass your N.E.W.T's,” Severus drawled sleepily.

Harry rolled his eyes at the threat but lay quietly nonetheless. Closing his eyes, he was surprised to find himself drifting off.

Severus woke two hours later to find himself wrapped snugly around a warm body. He drew his bed partner closer while his sleep-fogged brain worked out who was in bed with him. Hmm…definitely male, he mused, dark hair… that leaves out Luc. Oh shite, its Potter…now I remember, the brat tried to wake me earlier. Carefully unwrapping himself from Potter's warm body, Severus got out of bed. He couldn't resist looking at the young man asleep in his bed.

On his side, with one arm stretched under the pillow, Potter had the other under his cheek, sleeping in nothing but a pair of red boxers. With the sheets kicked down around his knees, the firm young body was temptingly displayed to Severus' eyes. Shaking his head, disgusted with himself, Severus made his way to the loo. You old fool, he's sixteen and you're lusting after him. You should have sent him back to his own bed. Instead you gave in to the lure of having him sleep with you, if only in the most innocent of ways. He mentally berated himself.

Twenty minutes later Severus stepped out of the bathroom, showered and dressed for the day. Reaching down to the sleeping young man he gently stroked the soft hair, then he shook Potter's shoulder. “Potter, get up.”

Harry rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Stretching, he gave a sleepy, “Good morning.”

Ignoring the alluring sight of rippling muscles, Severus turned and headed out the door, calling over his shoulder, “You should dress. I'll be in the study.”

Swinging his legs over the edge, Harry reluctantly got out of Snape's bed. He ambled to his own room and dressed for the day in jeans and a black long-sleeved tee shirt. He quickly gathered up the gifts he'd gotten for everyone. Walking into the study a few minutes later, he saw everyone was present and offered a general, “Happy Christmas.”

After he'd set the gifts by the tree they had decorated earlier in the week, Harry accepted a cup of hot chocolate from Spencer, and joined Gabriel on the couch. Everyone sat talking and sipping hot cocoa for several minutes until Devlin said it was time to open presents.

Severus watched as the Bar maneuvered Potter into a chair and prepared to give him his gifts. Devlin had mentioned that they were all determined that Potter have no further doubts of his place with them and that the brat enjoy this holiday. Severus fondly remembered the time they had done the same for him, the first Christmas he'd spent with them.

Handing Harry three packages, Devlin said, “These are from your friends. Your owl brought them last night.”

Harry quickly tore off the paper on the first to reveal a leather-bound book, The History of the Wizengamot. Opening the cover, he saw a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it he read a note from Hermione. She expressed her agony over his disagreement with Ron and that she didn't feel she could choose sides, but promised to talk to him when he returned after the break. Sliding the note back into the book, he decided to deal with it later.

The next present was a jumper from Mrs. Weasley with a large golden snitch on the front. Smiling, Harry slipped it on over his tee shirt. Obviously she didn't intend to hold his fight with Ron and Ginny against him. Also inside was a smaller box filled with items from the twins' store. The last box held a handsome wood and leather writing desk filled with parchment, quills and ink, from Remus and Tonks.

When Harry finished with the gifts Hedwig had brought, Devlin handed him a package. Harry eagerly opened it to discover it contained two hand-tooled dragon-hide sheathes. “For your daggers. One is for your boot and the other is designed to wear on your back, between your shoulder blades,” Devlin explained.

“Thank you, they're beautiful,” Harry rushed to say.

Luc nudged Devlin aside. “Mine next.” He passed over his gift, and Harry carefully unwrapped it. You never could be too careful when it came to Luc's humor. He pulled out a seemingly endless collection of shirts, pants and accessories. “Merlin knows you can't be trusted to dress yourself; those should guarantee you look presentable,” Luc said with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but you know, soon I'm going to need another room for all my clothes.”

“Quiet, you two. Here, Harry, this one's from me,” Vane broke in. Harry opened the box to discover a wand holster and an expensive set of dueling robes in a dark green.

“Wow, these are great, thanks.” After quickly putting the holster on his wrist, Harry slipped his wand inside and tested the release.

“It's dragon-hide, so it should repel any attempt to summon your wand away from you,” Vane said as he adjusted the fit of the holster.

Levitating a large wrapped parcel in front of Harry, Spencer said, “Hope you like it.”

Harry grinned at the taciturn man before he tore off the paper. It was an exquisite trunk of ebony with silver fittings; his name was engraved on the latch. Inlaid on the lid were the Black and Potter crests divided by a diagonal bar. Harry reverently ran his fingertips across the crests of his families, all of them. Turning to Spencer, he smiled sincerely. “Thank you, Spencer. It is the most beautiful trunk I've ever seen.”

Spencer waved aside the words. “A good trunk will be with you for life, it's a good investment,” he said gruffly.

From his place, Sebastian gestured to a flat package under the tree. “That one's from me, but you'll have to get it yourself. I'm not moving from here till breakfast.”

Used to Sebastian's habitual laziness, Harry got up and retrieved the gift. It was a long wooden box engraved with his name. Inside the box was a hand-forged sword made of steel with a black finish. Lifting the sword out its resting place, Harry was amazed to discover how well it fit him. For the first time, he felt comfortable holding a sword, the balance was perfect for him. “I heard you were having some difficulty with learning to fight with a sword. I thought, perhaps if you had one of your own it would help,” Sebastian said.

Gabriel snatched the blade from Harry. Glaring at Gabriel and his obsession with weapons, Harry turned to Sebastian. “It's gorgeous. For the brief second I held it, I could tell it will be a tremendous help. Thanks, Sebastian.”

“Oh this is perfect, it's so well made. I know this is what he's needed, why didn't I think of that!” Gabriel enthused. He took several practice swings and examined the sword from all angles until Devlin reminded him, “Gabriel, stop playing with the other children's presents. Don't you have something for Harry?”

“Okay, okay, here's your sword,” Gabriel grumbled. “We'll have to practice later.” He passed the sword back to Harry who gently replaced in the box.

“I do have something for you, but it's outside. Devlin wouldn't let me bring it in the house.”

Devlin shrugged. “No I wouldn't. I think we'll wait for you two in here. I have no desire to freeze out there.” The rest murmured their agreement.

Grabbing Harry by the hand, Gabriel led him to the door. “Cover your eyes, I couldn't wrap it and I want it to be a surprise.”

“It's not alive, is it?” Harry asked nervously.

“No, now hush and close your eyes.” Gabriel dropped his hand and opened the door to the garden. Stepping behind Harry, he placed his hands on the young man's shoulders and guided him outside. They walked for less than a minute when Gabriel stopped him and dropped his hands. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes; sitting in the garden was a gleaming motorcycle. Wide-eyed, he turned to Gabriel. “Is that…”

“Yeah, that's Sirius Black's bike,” Gabriel said softly.

Harry rushed over to the motorcycle and ran his hands over the leather seat. “Where did you find it?”

Joining Harry in looking over the bike, Gabriel explained, “Hagrid had it. He was just waiting for you to ask about it. I thought maybe you didn't know who had it. So I talked him into letting me give it to you.” Pointing as he spoke, Gabriel continued, “I cleaned it up some. Hagrid had it stored in his shed, hadn't ridden it since you were a baby. Had to overhaul a few parts, but it runs great now.”

Stepping back from the gleaming machine, Harry threw his arms around Gabriel and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You're welcome,” Gabriel responded softly, squeezing Harry back. “Now let's get inside before I bloody well freeze my bollocks off. I'll teach you how to ride it once it warms up a little.”

Laughing, they made their way back to the study. Harry dropped back into his chair smiling, feeling at peace with the world when Snape thrust two boxes in his lap.

“Here, Potter,” Severus said brusquely.

One of the boxes was moving, and had holes in the side. Anxiously, Harry opened it. Inside was a striking green snake with black markings that hissed angrily for a moment. Hissing back softly, Harry reassured the snake before turning to Snape. Slightly breathless with wonder, he asked, “What kind is she?”

“It's an emerald fer-de-lance; they are highly poisonous. But once bonded to a wizard, they will only strike when they feel their master is threatened. The venom is useful in a number of potions,” Severus stated. “She?”

“Yeah, she said her name is Saoirse. Thank you… she's beautiful.” Harry gently lifted the snake out of the box and let her wind around his arm.

Severus watched intently before saying, “She's a reminder that you should heed your more Slytherin instincts. I felt since you speak Parseltongue you should have a snake.” He stroked the snake's head before saying softly, “The headmaster was wrong to discourage you; there is no shame in conversing with serpents. Indeed, many envy you that ability.”

Sitting back, Severus gestured to the unopened parcel. “Open the other one, brat.”
After settling Saoirse more securely on his arm, Harry unwrapped the present. Lifting a vial out of the box, he raised a questioning eyebrow towards Snape.

“Dolens Nex! And you scolded me for coating my blades with it, Severus. Yet you brew it for the brat?” Devlin taunted when he recognized the familiar poison.

Facing Devlin, Severus drawled, “Slytherin's blades deserve only the best, so naturally I brewed it for him.” Turning his attention back to Potter, he said, “I will show you how to apply it later, for now keep it somewhere cool and dry. And, for Merlin's sake, don't confuse it with any of your other potions.”

“Will you teach me how to make it?” Harry asked as he carefully replaced the vial in its box.

For once, Severus was unable to keep his expression blank, his astonishment clear to all. “You wish to continue studying potions?” he asked incredulously.

“I think I should be able to brew anything I'll be using at the very least,” Harry began. “And I don't know Dolens Nex yet. So yeah, I want to keep studying.”

Unsure as to exactly why Snape was so surprised, Harry added, “If you're willing to teach me anymore, of course. I'll understand if you don't, I know I'm not the best potions student.” Maybe the man couldn't believe Harry had the nerve to ask for more help in a subject he was so bad at.

Hearing the insecurity about his intelligence Potter seemed unable to overcome, Severus decided to break one of his own rules and offer praise for no reason other than reassurance. “Potter, you are not a bad student. Admittedly, you have no natural inclination for potions and you'll probably never invent your own,” he said dryly. “But you are a more than adequate brewer and have the capability to learn extremely complex potions. I am willing to teach you any potion you wish.”

“Brilliant, thanks a lot,” Harry said with a wide smile.

Waving away the unnecessary thanks, Severus spoke again, “You should take your haul up to your room. The headmaster will be here soon and I need to test your Occlumency skills beforehand.”

“But what about your gifts? Don't you want to open them?” Harry asked with a frown.

“We'll open them later, Harry. We don't have time to fully appreciate them right now,” Devlin explained.

Reluctantly, Harry gave in and carted his presents to his room, making sure to put them away carefully. He was deeply touched by all the thought that the Bar and Snape had put into the gifts. The feeling of belonging and friendship meant a great deal to Harry, so he treated his new possessions with a care just shy of reverence.

Keeping Saoirse on his wrist, Harry walked back into the study. He was surprised by Devlin's whispered, `Legilimens,' but he was prepared. His Occlumency shields held. The only thoughts Devlin could access were the ones Harry had chosen for such an occasion.

Releasing the spell, Devlin smiled as he patted Harry on the back. “Good job, brat. Severus taught you well.”

“I didn't know you knew Legilimency,” Harry said curiously.

Devlin snorted and smirked, “Who do you think taught old sour puss there?”

“You get above yourself, Devlin; I already knew the basics of Occlumency. You merely assisted with selecting the thoughts I used to hide my deceit from the Dark Lord,” Severus corrected, and added superciliously, “And I mastered Legilimency on my own.”

“Yeah, right,” Devlin muttered under his breath. Harry was barely able to keep a straight face; as Devlin said, “Harry's mind is shielded well. Dumbledore won't get anything important out of him.”

“You say that like there's something of import actually in Potter's head,” Severus drawled, eyeing Devlin warily.

“It's Christmas; can't you lay off the insults?” Harry started heatedly. “Wait, you were already friends when you were still a Death Eater?” He'd known that Snape had known the Bar for a while, but not that long.

The knock at the front door forestalled the conversation. Severus glared in the direction of the entry way and said softly, “I'll give you the history of my association with the Bar later. For now we have an act to put on.” Turning his gaze to Potter, Severus asked intently, “Are you prepared to behave as you always have towards the headmaster, Potter?”

“Yeah, he'll never notice any difference,” Harry said with assurance. He dropped into a chair, hissing softly to Saoirse, who quickly disappeared up his sleeve. His shirt rippled for a moment before the snake settled and wrapped securely around Harry's waist.

While Gabriel headed out to answer the door, the rest of the room's occupants settled into their customary places. Harry watched as Devlin's face transformed from the open, warm man he'd come to know to the cold, hard man he'd first encountered. “Let the show begin,” Harry murmured softly to himself.

When Dumbledore entered the room at Gabriel's side, Harry got to his feet, prepared to carry out the script they had all agreed on. “Hello, Headmaster, it's good to see you.” He crossed the room and held out his hand in greeting.

Smiling good-naturedly, Dumbledore took Harry's hand in both of his. “Harry, I hope you've had a Happy Christmas so far. I find I'm quite pleased to be here. Will you introduce me to your friends?”

Gently disengaging his hand from the headmaster's grip, Harry quickly introduced everyone.

When Harry finished the introductions, Devlin spoke. “Headmaster Dumbledore, allow me to extend the Bar Sinister's welcome. Won't you please have a seat?”

“Thank you… I must admit you have me at a disadvantage. It seems presumptuous to address you as Devlin, yet you have no last name I may use. Very disconcerting,” Dumbledore said as he took the offered chair across from Devlin.

Smiling thinly, Devlin admitted, “Yes, I have often encountered that reaction.” He went on to say regally, “I obtained my Mastery in Transfigurations, so if you find it more comfortable you may address me as Master Devlin.”

With considerable effort Harry managed to refrain from choking with laughter at the exchange, barely.

“Ah, Transfigurations, that is my specialty as well,” Dumbledore said. “Yet I don't recall having had you as a student at Hogwarts. Indeed, I don't believe I recall any of you attending Hogwarts.” Dumbledore eyed Devlin with curiosity.

“You wouldn't have,” Gabriel spat with barely restrained anger.

Devlin shot Gabriel a sharp, quelling look before saying smoothly, “The Ministry, in all their wisdom, felt it best that we not mix with others of our age. Something about corrupting them, I think it was.”

“Ah, you are those children, the poor unfortunate ones that the Ministry treated so shamefully,” Dumbledore said sadly.

Devlin raised an eyebrow in warning. “At one time we were. However, none of us are children any longer, Headmaster, nor poor or unfortunate,” he said. Harry heard the silent admonition aimed at Dumbledore. He would gain nothing by treating the Bar paternally, as he did Harry. He knew it was the only warning Devlin would ever offer.

It seemed Dumbledore understood the unspoken message; he inclined his head shortly and said, “I disagreed with the Minister on that issue. Sadly, he refused to listen to my advice.” Dumbledore steered the conversation in the direction of the topic he clearly seemed most interested in, “Yet, without a formal education you achieved Mastery in a complex field. I'm sure Harry is grateful to have such a qualified instructor, at least for one subject.”

“We all have Masteries in the fields we're tutoring Harry in,” Devlin stated coldly, before adding offhand, “Well, except for Luc.”

Dropping his pretense of refined boredom, Luc lifted his head jerkily. “Hey, it's not my fault the Ministry doesn't offer Masteries in History,” he said petulantly.

“Or in pompous traditions and dresser to the unfortunates,” Harry said with a mischievous grin.

Luc turned to Harry, revenge dancing in his silver eyes. “Brat, next time a camera is nearby I'll make it my mission to see you dressed in a pinafore with matching bow,” he promised gleefully.

Shuddering dramatically and drawing laughter from the others, Harry moaned, “Not that, anything but that. I beg your forgiveness, Luc. Please don't make me look like a little girl.”

“You should have thought of that before pointing fun at your elders, insolent child,” Luc drawled.

“Alright, break it up you two,” Vane said from the couch. “I swear to Merlin I spend most of my time refereeing your bickering matches. Next time I'm just going to lock you both in a room and let you irritate each other to death for a change,” he vowed tiredly.

Harry and Luc sat back with matching pouts, ignoring the renewed outbreak of laughter. Laughing, Dumbledore watched with twinkling eyes before commenting, “I see Harry has found a place here with you.” He turned to Harry and said seriously, “See that you don't forget your old friends in your enjoyment of the new. However, I don't anticipate any difficulties in that regard. Your plans will keep you at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future, correct?”

Struggling not to tense, Harry dropped the pout and met the headmaster's eyes confidently. Now was the time to play his part. “Of course, Headmaster, where else would I go? I have always felt Hogwarts is my home, you know that,” he lied smoothly.

Severus watched with pride as Potter deceived the headmaster with the skill of a Slytherin. All his work with the young man on Occlumency, tactics, and, most importantly, keeping up a front, were paying off.
“Potter still intends to pursue his Mastery in Defense, and the library at Hogwarts contains one of the finest collections of Defense material in Britain. We have discussed it and he will remain at Hogwarts until he's obtained his mastery,” Severus intoned smoothly. It was the first complete and utter lie he had ever told Albus, yet he felt no regret. His choice was clear, Potter earned his trust and loyalty as no other ever had, by simply accepting Severus for himself.

Nodding in satisfaction, Dumbledore sat back and relaxed for the first time since he'd arrived. He allowed the conversation to flow how it would and seemed content to watch Harry interact with the Bar. Although he seethed inwardly at the grandfatherly display of concern, Harry did nothing to arouse Dumbledore's suspicion that anything had changed.

The remainder of the visit passed smoothly, everyone knew their parts and played them to perfection. Reassured, Dumbledore contented himself with telling stories over lunch. Later in the study, he engaged Devlin in a debate regarding the theory of inanimate transfiguration. An hour before dinner, the headmaster took his leave of the group, with the admonishment that Harry come to visit his office soon.

Late Dec 1996-Early Jan 1997

Harry spent the rest of the holiday feverishly preparing for his upcoming N.E.W.T's. When it was time to return to Hogwarts, he felt tentatively confident he would do well. Mostly he'd be relieved when they were behind him and he could concentrate on more pressing matters.

Harry and Severus returned to Hogwarts two days after New Year's. Three days after that, Harry sat his first N.E.W.T, History of Magic: despite his low O.W.L score, the Bar and Snape suggested he take it. Harry was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that he knew the answers; Luc was obviously a much more proficient teacher than Binns.

Later that afternoon, he sat the written part of his Potions test. Once again, he found the exam easier than he'd anticipated. Immediately afterwards, he did the practical portion, which was much harder for him than the written, but he felt he would pass nonetheless.

The next day, he completed the N.E.W.T's for Charms and Transfiguration. Both sped past and Harry realized how well prepared he had been. The Bar and Snape had taught him well, and there was things they'd taught him that weren't on the tests but improved his grasp of the subject.

Harry breezed through his Defense N.E.W.T the following day; he almost felt as if he could have passed it without the extra tutoring. The work he'd done with the D.A the previous year had advanced his knowledge on the subject further than he'd thought.

Now that the pressure of the N.E.W.T's were over, Harry turned his attention towards getting as much information out of Dumbledore as he could before moving to Sinister Place. Once he'd left Hogwarts, the headmaster would realize he'd lost his pawn. Harry wasn't sure what the old man would try to do to get him back, and didn't want to risk any of it until he was stronger.

Walking slowly to the headmaster's office, Harry tried to absorb the contentment Hogwarts always offered him, unsure if he'd ever again be able to walk these halls without fear of Dumbledore's interference. The castle seemed to sense his desire and Harry felt a sensation of warm acceptance embrace him briefly. Smiling ruefully, he reached the gargoyle and proceeded up to the office above.

Knocking softly on the door, Harry sent a mental prayer to whichever deities watched over him that he could pull this off. He had every confidence Snape would do his part, but the riskiest task fell to Harry.

“Come in, Harry,” Dumbledore called through the door.

Harry entered the office and smiled his greeting. Taking the seat Dumbledore gestured towards, he declined the offer of tea; Snape had warned him about the calming draught. “I was wondering about possible applications of a Mastery in Defense and hoped you could point me in the right direction,” Harry said.

Dumbledore looked pleased by the request, and Harry was grateful Snape was on his side; the man certainly knew what would reassure the headmaster about Harry's aims. Dumbledore started confidently, “My dear boy, I'm delighted that you're thinking of your future. There are many positions that would serve you well if…” he trailed off when the fireplace behind Harry flared green.

Severus' head floated in the fire and he called urgently, “Headmaster, Peeves has cornered Minerva in Animagus form in the trophy room; for some reason she can't revert to human. I can't get past the flying trophies to help her, and the Bloody Baron is unable to control Peeves.” As soon as he finished speaking, Severus withdrew his head.

“Oh dear, Harry, please excuse me for a moment, make yourself at home. I must rescue our deputy headmistress.” Dumbledore tossed a handful of glittering powder in the fire and called out, “Trophy Room.” He stepped into the flames and with a flash of green fire was gone.

Once he was sure the headmaster was gone, Harry jumped up and rushed to the cabinet housing Dumbledore's Pensieve. He pulled open the doors and quickly located the vials holding the silvery memories; everything was exactly where Snape said it would be. Harry began pulling empty bottles from his pocket and setting them on a nearby shelf; concentrating, he chanted the spell Spencer had taught him to copy the memories.

He watched anxiously as at least thirty silvery streams duplicated themselves. Snape had only promised ten minutes; Harry had to be quick. When the spell finished, Harry waved his wand, sending the duplicate strands floating into the empty vials. Quickly sealing the tops, he stashed the vials back in his pocket. Sighing with relief, Harry closed the cabinet and exited the office.

If Minerva ever discovered his part in the debacle, Severus harbored no doubts about her reaction; he would die painfully. He'd been the one to cast the charm to hold her in cat form, and he'd suggested to Peeves where she could be found. Severus felt guilty about using his colleague in such a manner, but had seen no other way to ensure Albus left his office. Hearing Filch's gleeful crackle at the approach of the headmaster, Severus swiftly released Minerva from the spell with a discreet flick of his wand.

Severus ducked another viciously tossed trophy as Dumbledore entered the room. “Headmaster, I hope you can exert some control over that reprehensible poltergeist,” he sneered.

Watching Dumbledore wandlessly freeze trophies as he attempted to reason with Peeves, Severus silently signaled the Bloody Baron. Floating over to Peeves, the Baron whispered something too low for the assembled group to hear. Whatever he'd said had Peeves squealing loudly and fleeing the room, knocking over trophies and suits of armor in his haste to leave.

McGonagall transformed back into her usual state, if more than slightly harassed looking. Still feeling remorseful, Severus tactfully handed Minerva a calming draught and stayed with her as Dumbledore questioned her on the recent events.

Harry slowly walked along the shoreline of the lake; he was leaving Hogwarts after curfew tonight. His feet automatically followed the path he'd traveled many times before, and he was not really surprised to find he was standing before the boulder he considered his. Harry climbed onto it one last time. Pulling out his cigarettes, he lit one and leaned back on his elbows, ignoring the chill from the frozen lake.

Harry stared at the sky as he pulled out the memories of his adventures at Hogwarts. He had no idea how much time had passed when he sensed someone approaching. Tossing aside his cigarette, he sat up and watched as Hermione's form coalesced out of the gathering twilight.

He made no move to meet her halfway; Harry was hurt she hadn't made some effort to stop Ron or Ginny from what they had done. When she failed to speak to him afterwards she hurt him further. Hermione scrabbled up the boulder to sit beside Harry, and for several minutes they sat silently, looking at the lake.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione whispered. “I know I hurt you, Harry, but Ron needs me. I told Ginny what she did was wrong; she's not speaking to me anymore.”

As he defiantly lit another cigarette, Harry silently challenged Hermione to lecture him about smoking. She wrinkled her nose, but didn't say anything. “So because Ron needs you it's okay to ignore me? Only to see me out here when no one's around, like you're ashamed to be my friend?” Harry questioned desolately.

Laying her hand on Harry's tense arm, Hermione squeezed softly and said, “I didn't mean to ignore you. Things just got out of hand before I realized what was happening.” She smiled sadly, adding, “I'll always be your friend but you don't need me any more, not the way Ron does. You've finished your N.E.W.T's and are moving on, there's nothing I can help you with anymore.”

Harry stared at the young woman incredulously; how someone so smart could completely miss the point was a mystery to him. He did need her; he needed Hermione as the last link to the innocence he'd lost. He needed her to keep him from becoming so lost in the plots and plans that he forgot why he was doing it all in the first place. Most of all, he needed someone to remind him of the Harry he had been before Voldemort had shaped his life.

With no words to explain what he needed from her, Harry turned away and accepted once again that he was alone. Feeling Hermione's intense stare, he said softly, “It's okay, don't worry about it. Just be there for Ron, I'll be fine.”

“Ron will come around in time, he always does,” Hermione said fervently.

Wanting the conversation over with, Harry rushed to agree. “Yeah, he always does.”
“Did you read what Mr. Weasley and Charlie said to the Quibbler? They told the reporter that it had all been a misunderstanding.”

Harry sighed. Hermione would never drop the subject until she was satisfied he agreed with her. “Yeah, I read it, and I'm really glad most of the Weasleys aren't angry at me.”

“Ron and Ginny said the whole family was angry with them over Christmas. He said Mrs. Weasley spent most of the break lecturing them both,” Hermione added.

Harry took a drag on his cigarette. “I know. Charlie came to see me on his way back to Romania a couple of days ago. Told me I had the family's support and that Ginny would be keeping her mouth shut from now on.”

“I think Ron was so mad because you didn't take time to explain it to him properly,” she chastised gently. “If you just tell him what happened I'm sure he'll come around.”

Snorting at the statement, Harry said flatly, “Between him punching me, the holiday, and me taking the N.E.W.T's I haven't exactly had time to talk to him,” he said ruefully. “Besides, I didn't do anything to Ron; I'm not apologizing for their mistakes. It's up to Ron and Ginny to make the first move.”

“I don't know if he will, Harry. Sometimes Ron's just not that mature,” Hermione said doubtfully.

When Hermione left several minutes later, Harry felt as if he'd just lost his last link with his childhood. If Hermione couldn't comprehend the depth of Harry's need for her friendship, perhaps he was better off without her, but the loss hurt him deeply.

With a heavy heart, Harry returned to Snape's quarters. He'd already sent his belongings to Sinister Place with Dobby and only had to say goodbye to Snape before he left. He walked into the sitting room to find Snape pacing restlessly in front of the fire.

“There you are, I thought you'd already left,” Severus said shortly. He was relieved that he would have the opportunity to say goodbye, but would never admit it.

Harry smiled broadly. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he'd feared; Snape had always been there for him and Harry hoped he always would be. “I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.”

“I have no interest in sentimental farewells, Potter, I simply want to confirm that you leave without interference,” Severus sneered.

Now that the time had come, Harry was reluctant to leave, but he couldn't put his finger on why. He knew it was the wisest course, but somehow it felt like he was leaving behind more than Hogwarts. “Well, I'll be going then. Thanks for everything, Severus. You know, it wasn't that bad living with you,” Harry said awkwardly.

Uncomfortable with his disquieting emotions, Severus determined it was only sensible to send Potter on his way so he could ignore the feelings. “Yes, Potter, and you weren't the irritant I expected either,” he admitted. “Now off with you, I'm sure Devlin is waiting for you.” Severus crossed his arms across his chest to resist the urge to physically keep the brat with him.

Taking a handful of Floo powder, Harry tossed it in the flames and called out `Sinister Place'. Turning back for a last look at Snape, he thought he saw something like regret flash through the black eyes.

Going with impulse as he always did, Harry stepped away from the fire and threw his arms around Snape's stiff body. Squeezing tightly for a moment, Harry was about to release the unyielding Snape, when he felt arms come around him.

Severus couldn't turn down the opportunity to hold Potter again. He held him for a long minute before turning the brat and pushing him into the green flames. Watching pensively as Potter spun away, Severus waited till he was gone from sight before saying softly to the cold fireplace, “Come back soon.”

A Tempestuous Transition

January 1997

Settling into Sinister Place was akin to standing in the eye of a hurricane. Everything was calm for the moment, but you knew that any minute all hell would break loose. It took Harry a full week to adjust from living with a methodical, reserved Snape to the moody, loud and always turbulent Bar Sinister.

Sitting in the library with Luc, a few days after he'd arrived, Harry brooded over what the headmaster had meant about a true warrior, as he'd done since he'd heard the term. Harry hadn't had any luck finding any mention of the phrase in any of the books he'd searched so far, and he decided it was time to ask for help. Luc was a walking encyclopedia of wizarding history, so Harry turned to the blonde and asked, “What's a `Castitas Proeliator?'”

“Where in Merlin's name did you hear that one?” Luc demanded incredulously.

“I overheard some people talking about training to be a `true warrior', but I can't find anything about them. So do you know or not?” Harry asked with a glint of challenge in his eye.

Luc lifted his chin. “Of course I know. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, the Ministry likes to pretend they never existed.”

“But what exactly are they?” Harry asked impatiently.

Closing his book, Luc walked over to the couch where Harry was sitting. Once he was settled, he began, “Castitas Proeliator means moral or true warrior. It's a term used by educated wizards, but the warriors they're talking about have no formal name.”

Harry listened closely; he wanted to know what had worried Dumbledore about these types of warriors. Maybe that's what he needed to be. Luc stretched his legs out and continued, “Throughout history governments have branded them outlaws and rebels, but the true warriors fight for the people, not the Ministry. The Castitas Proeliators have been around as long as we have had written history, and even before, according to some ancient legends.”

“Legends? What kind of legends?”

Luc sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he smiled softly and said, “The one I like the best is where the last true warrior − who lived over four hundred years ago − tells of the one who will follow him. The forgotten child of lightning and his dark companion raise the bar to save the world from the evil one that was almost immortal.”

Closing his eyes, Harry let his head fall onto the back of the couch. Luc hadn't known Dumbledore was talking about Harry; the blonde picking that particular legend seemed an ominous sign. “Luc, will you tell me the legend? It sounds interesting,” Harry said casually. He wasn't ready to share his fear he could be the child.

Luc seemed pleased Harry was interested in history for once and enthusiastically recounted the tale. “In 1107 Martin DeTours and a faction loyal to him fought the Wizards council over the Decree for Secrecy. DeTours and his group wanted to ensure no Muggle-born child was abused by magic fearing parents.”

Luc glanced at Harry pointedly, continuing, “The council opposed his stand and declared him an outlaw. Eventually he regained his standing in the wizarding world and some of his ideas were incorporated.”

Harry waited impatiently for Luc to arrive at the part he wanted to know. “Prior to his death, DeTours said he had a vision of the next true warrior. Hold on, I want to get this right.”

Standing quickly, Luc strode to the bookshelf and with no hesitation plucked out the book he was looking for. He flipped through pages for a minute, and then grinned triumphantly. “Here it is; I just wanted to verify the wording.” At that moment, the chime indicating the Floo had been activated sounded. Luc sighed and handed Harry the book. “Guess you'll have to read it yourself. I've been expecting my tailor all day.”

As the other man left the room, Harry quickly skimmed the passage till he came to the relevant section: `Lightning's forgotten child will become a man before his time… Outgrowing the restraint of his misguided mentor, he will train with a perceived enemy, children of his foes and the guardians of Erie. With his dark companion by his side, the forgotten one will raise the bar to its rightful place, and together they will purify this world of the evil that is nigh to immortal, to bring a new era of peace and acceptance for the betterment of all magical beings.'

Harry repressed a groan. First a prophecy, now a legend… Could his life get any more complicated? Most of the lines were easy to understand, but the others... Well, there were too many variables; Harry knew he needed help with it. And Snape was the only one he trusted to tell him the truth.

He slipped the book back onto the shelf and rested his forehead against the cool wood. Hopefully Snape would have some insight into the newest mess Harry had fallen in. He was about to go study or, more likely, hide in his room, when Harry heard the man he'd been thinking about bellow, “Potter, get out here!”

In the living room, Severus wearily sat in on the couch, waiting for Potter to join them. He took the drink Devlin handed him with an absentminded `thanks'. He'd known this day would come, but not quite so soon. He rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose, wishing his headache would go away.

Leaning against the door, Harry glanced around the room. It looked like a war council; the entire Bar was present, all bearing grim expressions. And Snape looked exhausted. Quite sure he didn't want to know what was going on, but equally sure that he had no choice, Harry cleared his throat. “What's wrong?”

“Stop hovering and get in here,” Severus snapped irritably. Potter lifted an eyebrow in question, and Severus nearly laughed aloud at the brat copying one of his gestures. He was surprised when Potter crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch, instead of taking the empty space on the love seat with Gabriel.

Recalling why he was there on a school night, Severus said flatly, “Dumbledore knows you are no longer in residence at Hogwarts.”

“Shite,” Harry swore. “How did he find out so soon?”

“The house-elves informed him your possessions were no longer in my quarters,” Severus explained. He took a sip of his drink. “And now the old man is demanding to see you.”

“Why?” Harry asked with a frown.

Severus snorted. “He made vague accusations about you actions being coerced.”

“So what?” Gabriel said. “It's not like he can actually do anything about it.”

Chuckling bitterly, Severus said, “He's threatening to have Potter's emancipation revoked, because `the poor boy obviously is not thinking straight.'”

Harry snatched the glass of scotch from Severus and drained it. “I'm fucked,” he groaned.

Not yet you aren't, boy, Severus thought. Damning his wayward cock, he forced all sexual connotations from mind and concentrated on keeping Potter out of Dumbledore's clutches. “Potter, there are several possible ways…”

Devlin interrupted with a fierce, “No one will force Harry from Sinister Place. Not while I live and breathe.”

The rest of the Bar agreed. Harry ducked his head, hiding his shocked expression. He'd known the Bar liked him, but they were willing to take on Dumbledore and the Ministry to keep him. He wasn't sure he was worth it.

Severus could read Potter's doubt; the slumped posture fairly screamed shock and disbelief. With a mental growl at those despicable Muggles, Severus continued his sentence. “We have options to stop the headmaster.”

“What options?” Harry asked dispiritedly. “Dumbledore's too powerful to stop.” Every good thing in his life had been tainted with some horror; he didn't expect this time to be any different. The support of Snape and the Bar touched him, but taking on Dumbledore was a difficult prospect for anyone.

Like a snake, Severus' hand shot out and grasped Potter's chin in a harsh, unyielding grip. He tilted the brat's head up and glared into those green eyes. “I will not allow that old fool to gain control of you,” he vowed vehemently.

Wide-eyed, Potter nodded slowly, and Severus loosened his grip. When he saw the familiar spark of defiance enter in the brat's eyes, he let go and smiled devilishly. “Now to plan Dumbledore's defeat.”

Later that evening Harry sat in the living room, protectively surrounded by Snape and the Bar. They were waiting for Dumbledore to arrive, when Dobby popped into the room. “Headmaster Dumbledore be on his way, Harry Potter, sir,” the little elf squeaked.

“Thanks, Dobby. Go on back to the house now,” Harry said with a smile for his friend. Dobby nodded, making his ears flap, and popped out.

With a deep breath, Harry stood and went to pace in front of the fireplace. Snape and Devlin immediately stood and flanked him. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, but appreciated the gesture.

A few tense moments later the doorbell rang. Straightening his robes, Gabriel went to answer it. Harry ran an agitated hand through his hair. Impulsively, Snape grabbed both his wrists. Bending down so Harry was forced to look into a pair of intense black eyes, Snape said lowly, “Take a deep breath, brat. He will not win.”

Severus heard Dumbledore and Gabriel enter the room, but didn't release Potter's gaze. Eventually, Potter took a deep breath and nodded once. Nodding back, and dropping the brat's wrists, Snape straightened to face the headmaster.

Devlin stepped forward. With a negligent bow, he drawled, “Headmaster Dumbledore, so kind of you to join us this evening.”

Dumbledore looked over the assembled group. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Severus. “I see Harry has loyal friends, but it would be best if I spoke to the boy alone.”

Severus snorted and stepped to the side. There was no quicker way to irate Potter than to call him a boy in that condescending tone. He was not disappointed. Potter stepped forward with shoulders squared, clearly spoiling for a fight.

Glaring at the headmaster, Harry spat, “I'm not a child. And I asked them to be here.” He gestured to the Bar. “There is nothing you have to say that they can't hear.”

Dumbledore looked disappointed, but said slowly, “Harry, I'm pleased at your devotion to your friends, but I need to ensure your decisions are free from outside influence.” With a regretful sigh, he looked around the room. “I'm certain these fine gentlemen can understand my concerns.”

Harry looked around the room and chuckled at the disdain he could read on the faces around him. “No, I don't think they do, Headmaster.”

“My boy, I'm sorry, but I must insist…”

Rolling his eyes, Harry interrupted. “You think the Bar is unduly influencing me, right?” he asked harshly.

Looking warily around him, Dumbledore gave a small nod.

Harry pointed to Devlin. “He's an autocratic, demanding arse.” He turned to Luc. “That one teases me till I want to hex him.” Pointing out Gabriel, he added, “And Gabriel is obsessed with his swords, I don't know if he's trying to teach me or beat me into submission some days.”

He whirled back to face Dumbledore. “I see them for what they are, Headmaster. The Bar is human, I'm here of my own free will. Should I continue?” he demanded, silently challenging the old man to argue. Snape and the Bar remained quiet, allowing Harry to handle the situation. He had no doubt if he got in over his head someone would bail him out.

Raising his hands level with his chest defensively, Dumbledore said in a conciliatory tone, “No, I see that you are not being coerced.” With a concerned look, he stepped closer to Harry. “But I still feel that Hogwarts is the safest place for you.”

“Sinister Place's wards are unparalleled,” Devlin said with a sneer. Then his mouth turned up in a malicious smirk. “Plus, anyone after Harry would have to go through us.”

“I'm not going back to Hogwarts,” Harry said firmly. Dumbledore coming here like this, accusing the Bar of coercion, strengthened Harry's resolve not to trust the headmaster with his well-being or his plans.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore took another step forward. “Harry, you need to return to Hogwarts with me. Now,” he demanded in a voice eerily filled with power.

Harry could literally feel the magic Dumbledore's voice was laced with. He wasn't sure what the intent was, and didn't plan to find out. He backed away from the headmaster until he ran into Snape. Snape wrapped one strong arm around his waist and pulled him close. “I've got you,” the older man whispered.

Devlin pulled his wand; pointing it at Dumbledore, he scathingly rebuked the headmaster. “Really, old man, a compulsion charm. Harry can throw off the Imperius curse, do you actually think a simple charm like that would work?”

Dumbledore seemed to stumble backwards for a moment. He locked eyes with Harry. Reading the sadness and shock in the headmasters' eyes, Harry pressed closer to Snape. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore would try now, and the thought that the old man had tried to force his compliance unnerved him.

Severus couldn't believe that Albus would attempt to magically compel the brat to listen. He felt the final bonds of respect he'd held for the headmaster fall away. Resorting to such a thing was too close to the Dark Lord's methods for Severus' comfort. He squeezed Potter reassuringly, and then gently pushed the brat behind him. “Albus, you go too far,” he said harshly. “You've seen what you came for; I believe it's time for you to leave.”

Dumbledore leveled a recriminating glare on Severus. “I begin to believe that you have been less than honest with me, old friend.” When the headmaster showed no signs of using further magic, Devlin lowered his wand.

“Did you not say Harry would be remaining at school until he completed his Mastery?” Dumbledore accused.

Harry didn't want Snape to lose his job, and as angry as the Snape seemed it could be a possibility. For once he was in a position to help Snape; Harry stepped in front of the other man.

“My plans changed,” he declared unflinchingly. “Severus has nothing to do with this. I won't go with you no matter what you say.”

“Your compulsion charm failed because Harry no longer trusts you,” Vane said as he walked to Devlin's side. The Bar stepped forward and stood staunchly behind Snape and Harry.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He tried again, and still did not speak. After several moments, he reluctantly inclined his head to Harry and said “Gentlemen.” With that, he turned and stormed out the door.

March 1997

Harry wasn't able to speak to Snape privately until the Easter holidays. Between viewing all the Pensieve memories he'd nicked from Dumbledore's office, and trying to use them to find Voldemort's hidden Horcruxes, there simply hadn't been an opportunity. But finally Harry managed to get Snape alone, with plenty of time to discuss the legend and what it could mean.

He searched Sinister Place for the older man, finally locating him in the library. Should have looked there first, Harry thought with a grin. He bullied a reluctant Snape out of the house, to the garden and the sunshine. They'd both been holed up indoors too much lately. Dropping languorously to the ground, Harry watched Snape meticulously arrange his lightweight cloak on the grass and gracefully sit down.

“Why are we out here, Potter?” Severus asked shortly.

Harry stretched out and propped his head on one hand before answering. “Have you ever heard the legend where DeTours talks about the lightning child?”

Raising an eyebrow, Severus drawled, “I'm familiar with that story. Will you be making your point soon?”

“Well, the legend added to the fact Dumbledore doesn't want me to become a Castitas Proeliator makes me think I could be the forgotten one,” Harry started. “And it scares the shite out of me, too…”

Holding up a hand, Severus cut Potter off. His brow furrowed in thought as he quickly tried to remember the details of the DeTours legend. “Before leaping to any conclusions, tell me where you obtained the exact wording of the legend.”

“Luc had me read it from one of his books,” Harry said quietly.

Dragging a distracted hand through his hair, Severus said absently, “Then there is no doubt you heard correctly. I wonder which source it was.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Snape's academic curiosity, but didn't get the chance to demand answers, as Gabriel dropped onto the grass beside him. Surprised that he had been so caught up in the discussion that he'd missed the other man's approach, Harry smiled softly at Gabriel, asking, “What's up?”

Absently playing with a strand of Harry's hair, Gabriel said, “It's a nice day, there's nothing pressing to do, so I thought you might like to learn to ride the bike.”

Ignoring the flare of jealousy at the sight of Gabriel's casual intimacy with Potter, Severus watched as the brat's indecision played across his face. Needing time to contemplate the newest complication Potter had revealed, Severus spoke, “Gabriel, Potter will meet you out front in a few minutes. I need to speak with him privately for a moment.”

Smiling brightly, Gabriel climbed to his feet and agreed. Harry watched as he walked away. When the man was out of earshot, Harry turned on Snape. “But I want to talk to you,” he said impatiently.

“Potter, go learn to ride that dangerous contraption of Black's. I require time to research the legend before I will comment on it,” Severus said peremptorily. “Meet me in the library when you're done.”

Reluctantly, Harry acquiesced; he walked around the front of the house to meet Gabriel. The resulting afternoon turned out to be a pleasant diversion for Harry. For several hours he forgot about everything except the sheer fun of being with Gabriel and learning something frivolous for once.

When they returned to Sinister Place, Harry thanked Gabriel for the afternoon and headed off to find Snape. Surprised not to find the man in the library, Harry eventually ran him to ground in Snape's bedroom.

After knocking and being bidden to enter, Harry saw Snape sitting at a desk surrounded by books, writing feverishly. “What are you doing up here?” he asked curiously.

Looking up briefly, Severus said, “It is apparent that you want this information to remain private for now, I am trying to be discreet. If Luc were to come upon me in the study with these books, he would quickly deduce the reason.” He wrote for another minute and then snapped the book closed.

Potter was still standing beside the desk. Severus pointed to the bed and said softly, “Sit down.” He turned his chair to face the bed and the young man sitting on it. “The Bar has an extensive library, so I have no doubt that I just read every relevant reference on the legend,” he started.

“So, do you think it's talking about me?” Harry cut in before Snape could continue what sounded like a lecture.

Glaring at the brat, Severus snapped, “Perhaps you will let me speak without the need to interrupt.” Holding up a hand to forestall the retort on Potter's tongue, Severus took a quick moment to gather his thoughts. “I must concur with your conclusion. You are indeed the `lightning child' that DeTours spoke of.”

Harry fell on his back on the bed and groaned. Can I never be normal? he thought mournfully. While he'd feared he was the figure the legend spoke of, it was more an abstract fear. Now that Snape had confirmed it, the dread had taken up residence in his throat in what felt suspiciously like panic. Harry groaned again and grabbed a pillow to hide his face; he gave a fleeting thought to smothering himself with it.

Severus gave Potter a few moments to reconcile the information; when the brat pulled the pillow over his face, he started. Seeing the hands on the pillow tighten infinitesimally, Severus stood and strode to the bed.

He whipped the pillow from Potter's hands and glared at him. “You egomaniacal brat, if you wish to commit suicide, have the courtesy to do so somewhere other than my bed,” Severus spat contemptuously. Knowing he was ill-suited for kind words, Severus hoped anger would serve to rouse Potter from his self-pity.

“Wasn't really trying to kill myself, mostly just hoping for unconsciousness,” Harry admitted flippantly. He ignored the glowering Snape and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Sighing, Harry said softly, “I knew it was true, but hearing you say it made it real. Don't know if I'm ready for more responsibility.”

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and awkwardly patted Potter's knee. “Much has been required of you, Potter. And it is unfair, but you are capable of bearing the burden, more than anyone I know. You are not alone in this,” he said resolutely. Perhaps he was not so ill-suited after all.

Harry smiled at him dolefully, but there was the hint of determination in his eyes. He sat up and said sincerely, “Thanks, Severus.” Nudging the black clad shoulder of his companion, Harry grinned mischievously and said, “Now you get to figure out what all that shite really means.”

Severus arched a brow and gave a smug quirk of his lips. “Really, Potter, most of the lines are straightforward, there was very little that required interpretation,” he drawled.

“You already figured out what it means?” Harry asked suspiciously. Snape was too pleased with himself; no doubt he was setting Harry up for something.

Snape inclined his head. Harry growled. “Well, are you planning on telling me?”

“Perhaps,” Severus drawled nonchalantly.

Potter lifted his face and met Severus' eyes. Severus could see the steel that had allowed the brat to defeat the Dark Lord shinning in the green depths. “Don't fuck with me, Severus,” said Potter in a low voice. “Please tell me what you know.”

“I have every intention of telling you, Potter,” Severus said solemnly. “I see that my attempt at jocularity was ill-timed, but there is nothing urgent in the legend. For the most part it simply reinforces the prophecy.”

Harry's eyes softened and he sighed. “Sorry. Every time I think I'm controlling my life, something else comes up to show me I'm not.” He laughed bitterly. “I think Fate and Destiny must be having a grand time screwing with my life.”

His heart twisting at the bitter laughter from one so young, Severus slipped a hesitant arm around Potter's shoulders and gingerly pulled him against his side. To his surprise, the brat all but molded himself to Severus' side, laying his head on Severus' shoulder. Severus awkwardly patted the firm back and said softly, “No one is truly in control of their life; fate toys with us all. We simply control the portion we're allowed and endure the rest.”

Harry desperately needed the affection Snape was offering. He leaned into the warm body and absorbed the comfort he'd so rarely received. It no longer shocked him when Snape made such gestures; Harry had come to realize Snape could offer comfort and support. It was obvious Snape was unaccustomed to offering affection, and the fact that he would try made Harry prize it all the more.

Turning his head so he could look Snape in the eye, Harry arched an eyebrow and said, “That your philosophy of life?”

Severus gazed into the brilliant green eyes for a moment. The brat was so close, a matter of centimeters and he could have pressed his lips to Potter's. He quickly turned away. Clearing his throat, Severus said firmly, “We should discuss the legend with the Bar.”

“Why?” Harry asked as he snuggled closer.

Giving in to what he considered the lesser of two evils, Severus wrapped his other arm around Potter and held him tightly. “What other Bar did you believe you would raise to its rightful place?” he asked softly.

Not inclined to give up the warmth, Harry muttered, “In a bit… want to stay here a little longer.”

Severus wished the brat meant he wanted him, not the simple physical affection he'd been denied in his childhood. Perhaps a word with Devlin later could provide some of the missing comfort for Potter.

Devlin, Luc, and Gabriel were the only members of the Bar at home. Vane and Spencer were trying to root out information on the Death Eaters' present location. Sebastian was often underestimated by outsiders and therefore not considered one of the more dangerous members of the Bar. He was using that to his advantage as he tried to garner support from the oft overlooked grey families.

As soon as Harry entered the sitting room, where they planned to meet, Gabriel seemed to sense his distress and pulled him into his lap and a warm embrace. The others gathered in chairs nearby.

Severus avoided looking at the two sitting so comfortably in the armchair. Gabriel was able to freely and openly show his desire and affection. Severus, on the other hand, felt constrained by Harry's youth and inexperience added to the fact he still occasionally viewed Potter as his student, therefore off limits.

“Harry, Severus, what did you need to discuss?” Devlin asked when they had all settled.

Smiling his thanks for Gabriel's support, Harry stood to pace restlessly while Snape detailed the reason they had gathered.

When Snape stopped speaking, Devlin was muttering about `meddlesome old men'. Harry silenced the room with a softly spoken, “Severus thinks he knows what it means.”

Both of Luc's eyebrows arched to his hairline. “Oh do tell, Severus. I'm dying to hear what a Potions master makes of such arcane historical facts,” he drawled disdainfully.

Suffering from unrequited lust (and it was only lust, he assured himself, no matter what his treacherous heart said) had a negative effect on Severus' notoriously short temper. “Stuff it, you conceited arse,” he snapped coldly. “My knowledge of wizarding history is as thorough as your own. Or do you forget who introduced you to that pleasure, as well as others?”

Harry's eyes widened; he hadn't heard Snape use that particular tone in quite a while, and never directed towards a member of the Bar. The two men were standing now, trading even more vicious insults. Harry started to interfere when Devlin grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Leave them be, this has been coming for sometime now,” he said softly.

Harry opened his mouth to protest when Devlin pulled him closer. He spoke in a low voice as he said, “They were off and on lovers for years.” Devlin gestured towards the men spitting insults at each other before he continued, “Luc always chasing someone inappropriate then going back to Severus, until last year Severus put a stop to it. Said he no longer desired to be merely a convenient bed partner. Afterwards, they acted as if nothing had ever happened between them.”

Staring at the two passionate men arguing, Harry couldn't stop the blush that stained his cheeks as his teenage libido supplied a picture of the two intertwined and nude. Devlin chuckled darkly and teased, “They do look magnificent together, don't they?”

Determinedly willing away his blush, Harry turned to the grinning Devlin. “So you're just going let them fight?”

“When Severus goes for his wand I'll step in,” Devlin said smirking. “Luc only studies the Dark Arts. Severus uses them.”

After several more rounds of insults, Severus drew his wand, Luc a heartbeat behind him. Devlin casually immobilized them both, using the wand he'd had resting in his lap. Separating the two, he bound them to chairs and silenced them both with a flick of his wand. Devlin lifted the spell holding them immobile and was subjected to two fierce glares. “Now, boys, if you can't play nicely, I'll be forced to send you to your rooms,” he said mockingly.

“Harry, if you'd be so kind as to gather their wands?” Devlin asked, turning to Gabriel who had watched the fight with obvious enjoyment. “Gabriel, stop snickering and go fetch these two imbeciles some calming draught.”

Several minutes later, Harry looked apologetically at Snape as he poured a calming potion down the man's throat. “It's for your own good. Devlin won't release you till you've gotten a hold of yourself,” he murmured to the glowering man.

Severus rolled his eyes at Potter's statement. He was still furious despite the potion, but chagrined enough by his behavior to regain his self-control. So when Devlin asked if they would refrain from cursing one another, he gave a stiff nod. Devlin released Severus and Luc from their bonds, lifted the silencing spell and returned their wands.

Harry watched with amusement as the conversation about the legend continued and Severus and Luc ignored each other.

“Now, Severus, please enlighten us about the significance of this legend,” Devlin drawled.

Severus inwardly growled when Potter sat at his feet; the brat was obviously hoping to forestall another argument. “It is fairly self-explanatory,” he began. “The first line obviously refers to Potter, you've seen his scar, and Potter legally and mentally attained adulthood before his time.”

“Okay, I can see that, what about the rest?” Devlin asked.

Rolling his eyes, Severus continued, “The misguided mentor refers to the headmaster, he has attempted to restrain Potter's training many times.”

“He won't get away with it,” Gabriel vowed lowly.

Harry smiled at Gabriel. “No, he won't. Severus has plans for him, but the git won't tell me what they are.”

Severus lightly cuffed the back of Potter's head and growled, “Quiet, brat.” He sat back and was surprised when Potter leaned against his legs. Severus had no desire to lose the contact so he did nothing as he continued his explanation. “The perceived enemy would be myself and…”

Harry twisted around to face Snape. “You're not my enemy!” he said hotly.

“Potter, use your brain. Perceived enemy, not an actual enemy,” Severus said softly, then continued, “Until recently I was a marked Death Eater. That alone would have made me your enemy, and many people still view me as a follower of the Dark Lord.”

Turning back around, Harry leaned on Snape's legs and murmured under his breath, “I'll be changing that last part.”

Seeing the brat had no further protests, Severus spoke again, “As I was saying, the children of his foes would be the Bar.”

“Well, our beastly sires would count as Harry's foes for the same reasons you would seem his enemy,” Devlin said harshly.

Gabriel spoke up from his chair, “Who was the third group to train Harry?”

“The guardians of Erie,” Luc said, speaking for the first time.

Sitting up sharply from his sprawled position, Gabriel shouted, “He's going to train with the Fianna?!”

“What's the `Fianna'?” Harry asked.

The room had descended into a babble of voices all talking over each other. No one was answering Harry's question; indeed, it seemed they had forgotten he was there. He tried again, louder, “What is the `Fianna?'”

The group was still agitatedly talking, nobody was making any sense and Harry was getting frustrated. He stood and drew a circle of Black flames around his body. Concentrating, he raised the flames until they licked at the ceiling.

It was a very effective attention-getter; for a moment there was an uneasy silence, until Devlin drawled, “Brat, what did I tell you about that damn fire in the house?”

Dropping the flames and dispersing them harmlessly, Harry grinned unrepentantly. “Got your attention, though. Now would someone please tell me who the hell the `Fianna' are?” he demanded.

Severus could see there was no use trying to reprimand Potter for his startling display of power, although the sheer strength of the brat still caught him off-guard sometimes. “The Fianna are a group of warriors,” he said, turning to the young man. “They have long been considered the guardians of Erie.”

Luc seemed determined not to be left out this time and added softly, “After the war with Grindelwald they withdrew from society and haven't been heard from since.”

“They're legendary; to train with them was considered one of the highest honors a wizard could be given. They turned out the fiercest warriors, and to have a Fiannan warrior on the side of your cause virtually assured your victory,” Gabriel enthused. “I've always wanted to know their training methods, especially with swords.”

Sitting back down, Harry once again leaned on Snape, desperate for that contact. The thought of training with a group that Gabriel envied was frankly frightening. Deciding to deal with that later, Harry said, “Okay, thanks. Now what's with the dark companion and raising the bar?”

Sensing the brat's unease, Severus tentatively ran a hand through the young man's hair briefly and accepted Potter's clear wish to change the subject. “Dark can be interpreted many ways. It could signify one who uses the Dark Arts or be a literal dark skinned person. `The companion' implies that the person will be your lover.”

“What?” Harry spluttered. “I wouldn't take my lover into battle, I don't even have a lover!”

Rolling his eyes, Severus drawled, “Really, Potter, that is not pertinent right now. The legend simply implies that in the future your lover will assist you in your battle against the Dark Lord.” Shocked to find he was relieved that Potter and Gabriel were not in fact lovers yet, Severus gave Potter a nudge with his foot.

“To continue, the phrase `raising the bar to its rightful place' is obvious. Potter will somehow bring the Bar Sinister to respectability and prestige in the wizarding world,” Severus said smoothly.

Devlin uncharacteristically choked on his drink. “Oh no,” he moaned. “I like being notorious and feared. I have no interest in being one of the leaders in the wizarding world.”

“I think Severus meant that I would end the suspicions that you lot are really Death Eaters,” Harry said as he shot Severus a warning glare − the man looked too pleased with Devlin's reaction.

Severus smirked. “That is also a valid interpretation.”

Gabriel seemed eager to avoid a confrontation between Devlin and Severus and he asked quickly, “So we'll all help Harry off Voldemort for good?”

Severus gave up his attempt to needle Devlin and answered. “Yes,” he began, “But the use of `purify' leads me to believe that there is something besides a direct battle that will need to be done.”

Hearing Severus talking about purification, brought back something Harry had read recently. He struggled to remember what. After a few moments, he slapped his hand against the floor and leaped to his feet. Harry dashed out of the room, calling over his shoulder to the startled group, “Be right back.”

He ran up to his room and snatched one of Slytherin's potions journals off his desk. Quickly making his way back to the sitting room, Harry dropped on the floor beside Severus and ignored the questions flowing his way as he flipped through the book.

Finding the passage he was looking for, Harry said, “Okay, we can skip the last line; even I can figure that one out, peace on earth, and all that.” He pointed to the entry in the notebook and said, “But right here it talks about Animus Conserco,” Harry unknowingly said the last part in Parseltongue.

Ignoring his visceral reaction to Potter's hissing, Severus growled, “English, Potter. We can't understand you when you hiss.” He detested the fact that hearing the brat speaking Parseltounge caused his body to react without his permission.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry said unrepentantly, “Sorry, didn't know I was. Anyway, it said Animus Conserco. Which means…”

“Sanctify the Soul,” Luc said softly.

“Yeah, so I was thinking maybe…” Harry tried again to voice his thoughts when Severus interrupted, “Is it a potion? How would it be used?”

Harry slammed the book shut and closed his mouth into a mutinous line. They weren't listening to him again; it was really stupid of them this time, he thought, as the conversation flowed around him. He waited, knowing sooner or later they would have to listen; after all, Harry was the only one who could read the book and therefore the only one that knew what it said.

Eventually Severus had a question for Potter; it was then he noticed the brat's mutinous expression. He sighed inwardly when he realized they had ignored the one person with the answers. “Potter, forgive me,” he said softly, leaning down towards the young man. “I fear I was caught up in the possibilities of a new idea and neglected to allow you to finish your thoughts.”

Amazed that Snape had actually apologized for once, Harry looked up at him and grinned. “Think they need another dose of the Black flames?” he asked, gesturing to the still arguing members of the Bar.

“Allow me to attract their attention this time,” Severus said menacingly. He was still furious with Devlin for treating him like a reckless child, even if it had been warranted, which Severus had no intention of admitting. Besides, annoying Devlin had the extra benefit of amusing Potter and hopefully distracting the brat from his unease over the legend.

Casually slipping his wand from his pocket, Severus pointed it at Devlin and used a non-verbal `Viridisaeta'. Pocketing his wand, he sat back and smirked smugly. Severus ignored Potter's strangled laughter; any moment now either Luc or Gabriel would notice Devlin's Slytherin green hair.

Harry watched the resulting explosion with amusement, he had a feeling Snape had picked such a petty revenge for his sake. Devlin was furious when Snape wouldn't reverse the jinx, since it was wordless; he wasn't sure which one was used. It took several minutes for everyone to stop laughing and calm back down.

“Potter,” Severus began once the room was quiet, “Perhaps you would tell us about this…is it a potion?”

Harry flipped the journal to the relevant page and said, “There is a potion, but it's more of a process, I think.” He sighed and admitted, “I didn't really understand all of it.”

“Maybe you should attempt to read the entry to us, Harry,” Gabriel suggested.

Harry gave him a doubtful shrug but said, “I'll try.” He turned to Snape and added softly, “If I start hissing again, kick me or something, will you?”

“It will be my pleasure, Potter,” Severus drawled tartly.

Hoping he would be able to read the Parseltongue but speak in English, Harry began, “I have developed a protocol to cleanse Dark magic from the soul…”

Potter managed to read through the entry with only one kick from Severus. It was actually more of a nudge; he couldn't bring himself to kick Potter, no matter how the hissing stirred him. He thought carefully for a few minutes about the possible applications before summing them up. “Slytherin was quite ingenious; it is a surprisingly simple process. The potion can be administered orally to cleanse soul damage from Dark magic with no harm as long as the proper spell is used to prepare the subject.”

He absently ran a hand through his hair and added, “But if it is used topically on an object such as a Horcrux, it will not cease the cleansing until the soul has been purified.”

Harry was relieved that maybe he had understood the important parts of Slytherin's theory. “I wager Tom's soul is so full of Dark magic that an attempt to purify it would destroy it completely,” he said with a calculating glint in his eye.

Severus turned and gazed at Potter shrewdly. The young man was most assuredly embracing his Slytherin instincts. It seemed Potter had a plan for once instead of rushing blindly into danger. “I do believe you could be correct,” Severus said thoughtfully.

Consequences

August 1997

The past months had left Harry feeling content with his life for once. He had been pleasantly surprised when on his seventeenth birthday instead of a simple birthday kiss, Gabriel seduced him. The resulting relationship was comfortable; Harry knew it was not love for either one of them. There was a spark missing for Harry, something that would signify this was the one he belonged with, but he was satisfied for now. Who wouldn't be content with good sex on a regular basis with an attractive and attentive lover?

Harry was practicing with his daggers on a dummy, when he felt a shift in the air signaling he wasn't alone any longer. He knew that the entire Bar had left earlier for various reasons and weren't expected back till later. Tracking the unknown person with his ears, Harry waited till they were directly behind him.

Lowering his head, Harry turned and hooked an ankle behind his mystery guest's knee as he drove his shoulder into a solid, obviously masculine chest. Allowing gravity to do its work, Harry followed the man to the floor with his dagger held to a white throat. When he looked up and saw the face of the man he'd just attacked, Harry swore softly.

“Damn it, Severus, you should have called out. I wouldn't have attacked if I'd known it was you,” Harry said heatedly. To his surprise, Harry felt his body respond to the warmth and strength he was pressed so intimately against.

Quickly rolling off Snape before the man felt his arousal, Harry lay staring at the ceiling a moment before getting to his feet. At Snape's continued silence, Harry turned back, worried he'd accidentally hurt him.

Severus closed his eyes tightly to savor the fleeting sensation of Potter's body pressed against his own. Feeling the brat's eyes on him, he rolled over and got to his feet slowly.

“Did I hurt you?” Harry asked tentatively. “I didn't mean to, you just took me by surprise is all.”

Severus quickly suppressed his feelings and schooled his face to his usual expression before turning to Potter and saying, “You did not harm me, Potter. I merely lost my breath for a moment.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Harry asked.

Adjusting his robes, Severus spoke quickly, “Dumbledore has discovered a Horcrux and has decided to go today − now, in fact, − to destroy it.”

Harry thought quickly about what to do before turning to Snape. “Do you know where he's going?”

“Indeed. The headmaster is hoping that you will join him and so gave me the location,” Severus said.

Slipping his daggers back into the sheaths, Harry asked, “Floo or Apparition?”

“Apparition,” Severus said firmly, adding, “You might want to pack a bag. Merlin knows how long this will take.”

Harry simply nodded in response and headed to his room, calling over his shoulder, “Meet you out front in five minutes.”

Severus walked quickly down the hall and out the front door. Leaning against a pillar, he pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting one, he took a drag and sighed. Severus wondered if a man could die of sexual frustration. If so, Potter was going to be the death of him.

He was pondering these thoughts when Devlin approached. “Severus, good to see you,” Devlin said pleasantly, adding, “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“Dumbledore's going after a Horcrux, I've come to fetch Potter,” Severus said shortly.

Devlin looked at him questioningly, but all he said was, “Accio Devlin's bag.”

Severus snorted as the black leather overnight bag flew out the door. “Who invited you?” he asked imperiously.

Devlin raised an eyebrow and drawled, “You're dealing with a dangerous artifact, an untested potion and a crazy old man. I'd say you need all the help you can get.”

Shrugging, Severus lifted the cigarette to his mouth again; he didn't care if Devlin came along. He was probably right, the more people Severus could be sure of the better.

Potter came out carrying a brown suede bag and looked at Devlin's bag. Laughing, he asked, “Can't stand being left out?”

“Shut up, brat,” Devlin said lightly. He turned to Severus and asked, “Where are we going, anyway?”

Severus turned and caught Potter's eyes as he said, “The graveyard in Little Hangleton.”

Harry gasped before he could stop it. Quickly getting his emotions under control, he turned to Devlin and said, “Since you haven't been there, I'll do Side-Along with you.”

Severus watched Potter handle the shock with pride. It was a nice change from the overly emotional young man of little more than a year ago. Potter nodded at him and took Devlin's arm. They disappeared with a small crack. Severus disposed of his fag and did the same.

Harry and Devlin Apparated within one hundred yards of the graveyard, and he could see Dumbledore's lurid green robes not to far away from the entrance. Dumbledore was expected; the red hair of Ron Weasley and the bushy brown of Hermione Granger were not. Harry dropped Devlin's arm. Ignoring the crack signaling Snape's arrival, he growled, “Shite, didn't know there was a reunion planned.”

Hearing Potter's words, Severus turned and groaned at the sight of the three people standing near a gravestone. With a murderous glare, he stormed to the headmaster's side. Severus was peripherally aware of Potter and Devlin following him.

When he reached the headmaster, Severus spat, “Are you mad?” He pointed to Weasley and Granger. “This is no place for children, Albus.”

Harry snickered when Ron predictably swelled with outrage and protested, “I'm older than Harry and he's here.” Ron shook off Hermione's restraining hand as he glared defiantly at Snape.

Severus sneered at Weasley and drawled coldly, “Age has nothing to do with it, Mr. Weasley.” He smirked and added maliciously, “And as I recall, in every little adventure you blindly followed Potter into, you conveniently ended up incapacitated before any true danger was confronted.”

Devlin leaned down and whispered to Harry, “It's always fascinating to hear Severus unleash his vicious tongue on someone else.”

Harry snorted in amusement; Ron chose that moment to finally grasp what Snape had implied. “Are you calling me a coward?” Ron shouted indignantly.

Severus opened his mouth to confirm that he did indeed believe Weasley was a coward, when Dumbledore stepped in with, “Mr. Weasley, Professor Snape, we have serious work to do here. We can do without the animosity.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but refrained from antagonizing the boy any further. He watched with malicious glee as the Weasley spawn sputtered before being quieted by Granger's whispers.

Dumbledore turned to Harry and Devlin. “Harry, my boy, I'm pleased that you would join us today.” He held out a hand to Harry, but Harry had no intention of getting that close to the wily old man. Ignoring Devlin's tugging at the back of his shirt; he merely inclined his head and said, “Headmaster, you're looking well.”

Looking disappointed yet understanding, Dumbledore addressed the other member of the group, “And, Devlin, what an unexpected, but pleasant addition to our little outing.”

Locking his frigid green eyes on Dumbledore, Devlin drawled lazily, “I had nothing better to do today.” He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and added, “Besides, Harry always needs another pair of eyes watching for treacherous plots.”

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at the implication, but he remained silent. Ron had calmed at last. It appeared he and Hermione wanted to approach Harry, but didn't dare risk Devlin's intimidating glower. Harry spoke up, “Headmaster, you never did say why you would bring Ron and Hermione along on what could be a dangerous mission.” Harry agreed with Snape, this was no place for them.

“I thought you would like to see your old friends,” Dumbledore said with a sigh and a reproachful look. “They have been training with the Order and I believe there is little risk here today.”

Severus snorted in derision and snapped, “As you wish, Headmaster. Perhaps we could locate the foul artifact and proceed with its destruction.”

Dumbledore conjured two shovels and pointed to the eerily familiar gravestone of Tom Riddle Sr. “My information indicates that Hufflepuff's cup lays buried in that grave,” he said solemnly. Turning to Harry, Dumbledore held out a shovel. “Harry, perhaps you and Mr. Weasley would do us the honor of retrieving it.”

Grimacing at the thought of being so close to that particular stone again, Harry hesitated. Devlin leaned down and said, too softly for the others to hear, “I'll watch your back, Harry. Severus is keeping an eye on the old coot.”

Resigned, Harry nodded and took the shovel from Dumbledore. He went to the foot of the grave and dug the blade of the spade into the soil. Ron joined him a moment later. While he'd decided to forgive Ron and Hermione a while back, Harry was still uncomfortable around his oldest friends. The fight and its aftermath had snapped the last tenuous thread of their old camaraderie.

The two young men were strong and healthy; inside of an hour they had cleared enough dirt to see a battered metal box. Stepping back, Harry shot out a hand to stop Ron from grabbing the box. “Don't,” he said firmly. “It could be cursed.”

“Didn't think of that,” Ron mumbled as Dumbledore approached and ran his wand over the box.

A shift in the air caused Harry's head to snap up and quickly scan the area. Spying shadows flitting through the trees near the entrance gate, Harry spoke lowly, “Devlin, Severus, we have company.” He surreptitiously gestured towards the trees.

Granger gasped and went to turn in that direction. Severus quickly grasped her arm and held her still. Casually turning to Devlin, who had the good sense to remain still, he looked over the other man's shoulder. “Yes, I see them,” he said quietly. “There appears to be five or six.”

Finally catching a clear view of one figure, Severus hissed, “They're Death Eaters.”

“Well, fuck,” Devlin drawled. “What's the plan, Severus?”

Quickly running through the possible defenses, Severus asked, “Albus, can we handle that box?”

“I'm afraid not, Severus,” Dumbledore said sadly.

“We'll have to fight then,” Severus stated boldly. He quickly took in the surrounding area, making plans for a defense. “Send the children back to Headquarters, tell them to send help,” he ordered.

Dumbledore turned to where Hermione had joined Ron and Harry. “Children, you need to return to the house and send assistance.”

“Not Potter,” Severus snarled. “Just the children.”

It was in that moment Severus stopped seeing Potter as anything less than a man. Pushing away the realization till an appropriate time, he spoke to Devlin, “You and I will walk casually to that burned spot.” He pointed out the spot where the cauldron used to revive the Dark Lord had stood, about fifty feet away.

Ignoring Weasley and Granger's protests, Severus called Potter over. “Potter, how large of an area can you protect with the Black flames?”

“About a ten foot radius, I think,” Harry said. Relieved he wasn't being sent away this time, he asked, “What's your plan?”

“Devlin and I will be outside your flames. We will endeavor to hold off the Death Eaters until help can arrive,” Severus said urgently. “I need you to protect the headmaster and the Horcrux at all costs.”

Harry nodded and said, “Okay, anything else?”

Pleased Potter was listening and not running off half-cocked, Severus added, “Will you be able to prevent only those marked from entering the circle?”

Grinning, Harry replied, “I can do better than that. If it's not you or Devlin, they will burn.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded. “You should try to capture them, not kill them,” she said forcefully.

Devlin sneered and growled, “Little girl, now is not the time for your puerile sensibilities. That is why you are being sent home.”

Harry could see outrage warring with alarm on Hermione's face. Alarm won and she turned back to Dumbledore and agreed to leave.

Severus and Devlin languidly walked away. To all appearances the group gave no indication they were aware of the intruders. When the two men reached their destination, Severus heard twin cracks of Apparition. Relieved that Weasley and Granger were out of the way, Severus drew his wand and prepared for the fight to come.

Concentrating on drawing up the Black fire, Harry felt a tingle of magic flow across the area. “Anti-Apparition jinx,” Dumbledore said softly. Nodding, Harry lifted his arms out to his sides and Black flames sprang to life around them. The flames were about knee-high for now, but he knew that the instant someone other than Snape or Devlin stepped near, the flames would grow and consume them.

Harry could do nothing more than watch as Death Eaters surged out of the trees. He was awestruck by what he saw. Snape had missed a few: there were ten masked figures approaching. That fact did not faze the two men standing defiantly in the open.

Two Death Eaters broke away from the main group and approached Harry and Dumbledore. When the first Death Eater reached the deceptively low burning flames, he laughed as he tried to step over the flames. The Black fire surged up and the masked man found no escape from the merciless flames. Dumbledore quickly stunned and bound the second man as he watched his fellow burning.

When Harry turned back to Snape and Devlin, they were surrounded by black robes. He had known intellectually that the two men were dangerous, but for the first time Harry realized what that actually meant.

Snape and Devlin stood back to back, both with wands and daggers drawn. They ducked and weaved to avoid incoming curses, as they lobbed back curses Harry had never seen at the oncoming Death Eaters. Their daggers slashed at any black robed figure that came within range.

It seemed like time had stood still, but in reality about five minutes had passed when the first Order members arrived at the limits of the anti-Apparition field. Half the Order headed towards Harry while the others joined the battle. After quickly making a break in the Black flames for Remus, Tonks and the Weasley twins to come through, Harry watched as the remaining Death Eaters fled when it was clear they would not prevail.

When the last Death Eater disappeared from view, Harry let the flames die out and rushed to Snape and Devlin. “You okay?” he asked looking them over for injuries.

“Minor scrapes, they will heal,” Severus said.

Reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind Snape's ear, Harry traced a sluggishly bleeding cut on Snape's neck as he murmured a healing charm. “Anything else?” he inquired softly. Dropping his hand to Snape's shoulder, Harry looked up and locked his green eyes to the black ones above him.

Wanting more of the enticing touch, Severus nodded and lifted his arm to show a shallow cut along his forearm. He held his breath as Potter looked down and again gently traced the gash as he healed it. So few people had ever touched him with such obvious affection, that Severus was awed that Harry did so willingly. Seeing the others had gathered around the headmaster, he cleared his throat and said reluctantly, “We should attend to the Horcrux.”

Looking up, Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of what he thought was regret in the black eyes, before Snape turned away to join the others. Harry added the insight, and the earlier surprising arousal he'd felt towards Snape, to the things he would think about later. He reached the group surrounding the grave in time to hear Dumbledore say, “I seem to have broken the curse on the container. Severus, you mentioned a method you discovered to destroy the soul fragment.”

“Potter discovered it, I merely brewed the necessary potion,” Severus corrected.

Turning to Harry, Dumbledore smiled brightly and said, “Ah, Harry, would you be kind enough as to explain process, so that we might destroy any other Horcruxes the Order uncovers?”

Sneering at the headmaster, Severus drawled smugly, “It would accomplish nothing. The only way to activate the potion is a spell, in Parseltongue.” He had always thought that Albus did Potter a disservice by discouraging the brat's gift. Finally, he was being proven right.

The assembled group broke down in an argument. The main point seemed to be, if the potion required a spell in Parseltongue, was it dark? If so, could they in good conscience use it? Harry could hear snatches of conversation, and it frustrated him that so many in the Order were claiming that he was going dark. For several minutes Harry listened to remarks like that and others, before he lost his temper.

Severus watched in amusement as the overt and thinly veiled comments about Potter's apparent darkness angered the young man. Perhaps if Potter lost his temper and displayed his tremendous power the idiots would keep their opinions to themselves in the future. He knew Potter was not dark, would never be dark − the brat had too much Gryffindor in him to follow that path. But neither was he pure light anymore; instead, Potter was developing into a powerful grey wizard.

Severus murmured to Devlin, “The brat is about to show those fools just how powerful he really is.”

“I know, I plan to enjoy it thoroughly,” Devlin said maliciously.

He'd had enough, the Horcrux needed to be destroyed and all the questioning about whether he was dark or not had pushed Harry to the breaking point. “Shut up!” he yelled, and with a wave of his hand he silenced the crowd. Pointing a finger to an empty space between two headstones large enough for the group, Harry wandlessly levitated them all there in short order.

Ignoring the silent pleas and struggles to get free, Harry turned to a smirking Snape. “Do you have the potion?”

“Of course,” Severus drawled, then gestured to a furious Dumbledore. “Are you planning to leave them like that?”

Harry shrugged. “Yes,” he said flatly. After a moment he added reluctantly, “Until we're done anyway.”

Unable to contain a dry laugh, Severus spoke softy, “Might I suggest you free the headmaster? He is the best to ascertain if the soul fragment is destroyed completely.”

Sighing, Harry waved his hand and Dumbledore was free of the invisible walls. The headmaster quickly approached Harry with a thunderous expression. “Harry James Potter, I demand that you release…”

“They're fine,” Harry interrupted. “I'll let them go when we're done here. I can't take any more of that lot's accusations.”

“What about your friends you have imprisoned in there?” Dumbledore asked.

Grinning mischievously, Harry waved at Remus and Tonks who were watching him with an amused expression. The twins gave him wide smiles and two thumbs up. “I think they'll forgive me,” he said smugly.

Devlin laughed. Turning to Severus, he said, “Well, on with the show.”

“Indeed,” Severus drawled. He turned to the irate headmaster and said, “Albus, if you will open the box, we can proceed.”

Harry watched as Dumbledore gave in and opened the metal box holding the Horcrux. Quickly and efficiently, Snape covered the badger-engraved golden cup in the thick blue potion. When the entire thing was coated, Snape nodded to Harry.

Taking a deep breath, Harry concentrated on the cup and chanted the spell Slytherin had detailed. “Purify this soul, cleanse it of all dark magic,” he hissed. He repeated the incantation seven times, as called for.

When he finished, Harry shivered as he felt something cold swirl up from the cup. The potion glowed briefly, nearly obscuring the cup from sight. The glow died abruptly, seemingly absorbed back into the Horcrux.

In a very subdued voice, Dumbledore said, “It's gone.” He turned an appraising gaze on Harry. “It seems you have indeed discovered a way to destroy the pieces of Tom's soul. That power should not be taken lightly, my boy.”

Rolling his eyes at Dumbledore's continued suspicion of Potter, Severus snapped irritably, “For Merlin's sake, it is not dangerous or dark.”

“Anything that has the power to obliterate a soul is dangerous, Severus,” Dumbledore stated firmly.

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at Dumbledore. “It doesn't destroy the soul, it simply purifies it.”

Dumbledore refused to be convinced. “No matter how you phrase it, it is dangerous. I witnessed the complete destruction of that soul fragment.”

“Severus, do you have another vial of that potion?” Harry asked impatiently. Maybe he could make the old man understand if he demonstrated how safe the potion was.

Understanding what Potter was trying to do, Severus removed a second vial of the blue potion from his pocket. Determined to assist the brat in his endeavor to stop the headmaster's unfounded accusations, he did not pass the vial to Potter. Looking Dumbledore in the eye, he removed the stopper and swallowed the contents.

“How come you always get to do the dramatic gestures?” Harry demanded laughingly.

Sneering, Severus drawled, “Because, brat, I am more suited to it than you. Now say the incantation.”

Rolling his eyes at Snape, Harry repeated the incantation he'd used on the Horcrux. When he'd finished a blue haze surrounded Snape momentarily before dissipating.

Harry turned to the headmaster. “See, it won't hurt you.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “How do you explain the destruction I witnessed?” he inquired slowly.

“Only darkness remains in Voldemort's soul,” Harry said with finality. Turning to Snape and a quiet Devlin, he asked, “Can we get out of here now?”

“Indeed,” drawled Severus. He did not desire to remain once Harry freed the Order members.

Harry joined Snape and Devlin. He quickly lifted the spells holding the Order members in place and silent.

Moody limped up to Dumbledore, carefully picking his way across the broken ground. “The boy is becoming far too powerful,” he said gruffly, “and he no longer listens to you.”

“I know, Alastor. I'm not sure what to do now,” Dumbledore said uncertainly.

Harry sucked in a breath as the breeze carried the conversation to him. Snape squeezed his shoulder in understanding. “Slytherin tactics, Potter,” murmured the older man.

With a nod to Snape, and a final wave to Remus, Harry Apparated.

A Time to Grow

October 1997

For the two months since they had fought the Death Eaters and destroyed the Horcrux, Harry had been trying to convince Devlin that he was ready to be on his own. Harry wanted to move back to the Potter house, alone. He wanted privacy. He was tired of being dependent on the Bar and felt he could protect himself. Devlin disagreed, often and loudly, but Harry would not be dissuaded.

Taking one last look around the room he'd called his own for the past several months, Harry sighed fondly and called, “Dobby.”

Two seconds later the little elf popped into the room. “Oh, Harry Potter, sir, is coming home now? Yes?” he asked happily.

“Yeah, I'm coming home. That's the last of it,” Harry said, pointing at the trunk Spencer had given him. He watched as Dobby snapped his fingers to levitate the trunk. “I have to say goodbye, then I'll be there.”

“Dobby is waiting. He has made your favorite crab cakes for dinner,” Dobby said gleefully. “Dobby is so glad that Harry Potter is coming home!” The elf bowed deeply, then disappeared with Harry's trunk.

Making his way to the sitting room where everyone would be gathered, Harry took a deep breath to brace for the newest confrontation he expected from Devlin. He was surprised to find all the Bar except Devlin present. Turning to Luc, Harry raised an eyebrow. “Where's Devlin? He knew I was leaving.”

“He didn't get his way, so the git is probably off pouting somewhere,” Luc drawled.

“I do not pout,” Devlin growled, as he strode into the room. Turning his shrewd pale green eyes on Harry, he demanded, “Do you still intend to go through with this despite my disapproval?”

Squaring his shoulders, Harry met Devlin's stare with an obstinate light in his eyes. “I appreciate everything you've done for me,” he started. “But it's time for me to move out.”

The two men stood staring at each other for several tense moments. Finally, Devlin smiled wickedly and tossed Harry a small silver box. “If you can stand up to me and everything I've put you through these last few weeks, then you are prepared for most anything,” he admitted softly.

Completely speechless at the revelation, Harry stared blankly for a moment. Coming back to his senses, he glared at Devlin. “It was all a test?” Harry asked incredulously. “Another damn test… Don't you ever get tired of doing this shite to me?” he growled.

Devlin enfolded Harry in a tight hug, ruffling the black hair. “I'll never stop testing you, brat.”

Pushing away from Devlin, Harry glared as he straightened his hair out. “What's in the box?” he asked cautiously.

It seemed the whole Bar had been aware of Devlin's motivations. Gabriel approached once it was clear Harry wasn't going to hex the older man. He ran his hand down Harry's hair, which now reached the bottom of his shoulder blades. “You can open it, it's not part of Devlin's devious plot,” Gabriel said, shooting a grin at Devlin.

“Open your present, brat,” Devlin commanded. “It's from all of us, we intended to give it to you sooner, but there was never an appropriate occasion.”

Harry examined the simple silver box carefully for a moment, and then lifted the lid. Inside was a thick silver ring with Runes etched into the outside. Harry looked up at Devlin questioningly.

Gesturing Luc over, Devlin said, “Let Luc explain. He designed the damn thing.”

Taking the ring from Harry's hand, Luc pointed to each Rune as he explained them. “Basically the Runes represent each member of the Bar, including you and Severus. There are also some asking for protection.”

Vane stepped forward and held out his hand, showing an identical ring. “We all wear one; there is a tracking charm on it in case it's ever needed.”

“Even Severus wears his at all times, though he tends to keep it on a chain,” Luc added.

Quickly glancing around, Harry noticed they all wore the rings. “Why haven't I noticed the rings before?” he questioned.

Smiling smugly, Luc said, “I charmed them to be visible only when you are made aware of them.”

Harry nodded, and Devlin tugged at his hair to gain his attention.

“The ring is a reminder that the Bar will remain unbroken,” Devlin began softly. Spencer joined the group; he squeezed Harry's shoulder and then stood beside Gabriel.

Locking his eyes with Harry's, Devlin said intently, “And that you will always belong with us. No matter where you may travel, you will always have a place with the Bar Sinister.”

Sebastian approached from behind. He leaned in close and muttered in Harry's ear, “Whether you want it or not.” He walked to Vane's side and winked.

Surrounded by the Bar, Harry dimly heard each member's quiet agreement with Devlin's words. He realized then, that at long last he had a home. Not a physical place, but people who supported him unconditionally.

For the first time since Sirius died, Harry was near tears. He felt overwhelmed by the Bar's gesture; it was finally clear to him that he really did belong. Straightening his shoulders, Harry slipped the band onto the ring finger of his right hand. His eyes touched each man around him; deeply moved, Harry offered a softly spoken but heartfelt, “Thank you.”

April 1998

Easter holidays brought Harry and Snape back to Sinister Place for the second year running. Once again Harry studied the Pensieve memories, certain he was overlooking an obvious clue. He was watching the memory of Tom Riddle's confrontation with Morfin Gaunt, when he got the urge to check the Gaunt shack. Deciding there was no time like the present, Harry put away the Pensieve and headed out to find out who was available for a Horcrux hunt.

A few minutes later, Harry stuck his head in the library, half expecting it to be empty as all the other rooms he'd checked. Pleased, he noticed Snape intently studying a dusty old tome at the table in the center of the room. Curious if he would be able to, for once, approach the older man undetected, Harry softly padded directly behind Snape. As he was lifting his hand to tug a lock of inky black hair, Snape growled, “Was there something you needed, Potter, aside from the incessant urge to torment me?”

Grinning unrepentantly, Harry dropped into the chair beside Snape. Watching the man's face out of the corner of his eye, Harry asked casually, “What are the chances that there is a Horcrux in the old Gaunt place?”

Lifting his head from the page, Severus tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear as he considered Potter's question. “What is the rationale behind your conclusion?” Severus asked curiously. It did make sense that the Dark Lord would hide a Horcrux in such a place, but he was curious as to how Potter deduced it.

Seeing that Snape was genuinely curious and not disbelieving his suggestion, Harry answered. “It was the home of his relatives with Slytherin blood, which he was proud of,” Harry explained. “Plus, it's so isolated and run-down, that few people would think to look there.” Sighing, Harry added reluctantly, “And it just feels right for some reason.”

Giving Potter a stern look, Severus said gruffly, “Do not discount your instincts. They have served you well in the past.” Potter gave a sharp nod and Severus added, “I acknowledge that the Gaunt house is a location that needs to be searched.”

“Can we go now?” Harry asked, sitting up and staring at Snape intently. He didn't want to take the chance that if they waited too long the Horcrux would be gone.

Severus turned to face Potter. Seeing the determination in the younger man's eyes, he sighed. “Very well. You will have to content yourself with only my assistance if you insist on doing this now, however,” he said tersely.

“I noticed you were the only one here,” Harry said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I think between the two of us we can handle anything that comes up,” he added confidently.

Closing his book, Severus stood and placed it neatly back on the appropriate shelf. “Leave a note for the Bar. I will collect the Animus Conserco and meet you out front shortly,” he said as he headed to the door.

Harry agreed easily. Quickly pulling a sheet of parchment and a quill from the nearby desk, he scrawled a short message to the Bar, stating where and why they'd gone. Note written, Harry walked to the front door and waited patiently for Snape to return with the soul potion.

Silently exiting the house, Severus had an unexpected opportunity to watch Potter without chancing any comments on his observation. Slytherin to the core, Severus selfishly took the moment to study the young man before him. Potter had not grown since the blood magic had changed him; it seemed he would grow no taller than his current 6'1”. A truly remarkable height, considering the malnourishment of his formative years… Though with regular food and exercise the brat has filled out admirably.

All in all, Potter had grown into a remarkably handsome man; there was no trace of childishness left. Even while relaxed, he emanated barely leashed power. In Severus' opinion, Potter was not attractive in a classical fashion; instead, he was potently masculine, an appealing example of all he'd ever desired in a companion.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Severus cleared his throat as he approached Potter. “As you have recently viewed our destination it would be prudent if you utilized Side-Along Apparition.”

“All right,” Harry said. Stepping closer, Harry took Snape's arm in a firm grip. “Ready?” he asked. At Snape's nod, Harry concentrated on the lane he'd seen outside the Gaunt cottage and Apparated them both with little more than a thought.

They arrived in the precise spot Harry had aimed for, on the lane a short distance from the sad, run-down cottage. After scouting the area and finding it clear of any danger, Harry and Snape approached the dilapidated shack. The door had seen better days; it was nearly falling off its hinges when Harry eased it open.

The inside of the building was depressingly grim. A rusted, soot covered stove rested crookedly in a corner, and the table had collapsed long ago with the chairs strewn haphazardly around the room. Very little light entered the filthy windows, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of what Harry hoped was only dust and dirt.

Severus sneered at the disgusting shambles, quickly casting charms on himself and Potter to prevent the filth from attaching to their bodies. A cursory glance showed no obvious hiding place for the Horcrux, so Severus turned to Potter and asked, “Have you learned to detect latent magic?”

“Yeah, but I'm still a little slow at it,” Harry admitted reluctantly. He wasn't sure why he disliked reminding Snape of his lack of knowledge, but thought maybe it was because he admired the older man's proficiency and intelligence.

Hearing the self-reproach in Potter's voice, Severus snapped impatiently, “Potter, it is a difficult skill to learn. That you are capable at all speaks of your potential.” Not giving the brat a chance to comment, he said quickly, “If you will search that half of the room,” he pointed to the section containing the rusting stove, “I will see to the remainder.”

Agreeing, Harry turned to his assigned section and quartered the area, concentrating on sensing any stray trace of magic. As he worked, occasionally running across a charmed pot or tea cup, Harry watched Snape out of the corner of his eye.

Since they'd dealt with Hufflepuff's cup, Harry had been intensely aware of the other man. Prior to that he'd always noticed his intelligence and biting wit, but now his awareness was shifting to Snape's graceful, economical movements. The way he brushed his hair out of his face when it interfered with his vision, the billowing robes that occasionally flattened against Snape's body, highlighting a firm, muscular frame. Harry still didn't think Snape was that good looking, but there was something about the darkly elegant and dangerous aura the man projected that was intriguing.

For almost an hour, they had painstakingly combed through the scattered debris, when Harry sensed the latent power of what he hoped would be the Horcrux. “Severus, I think I found it,” he called out, astonished he'd actually done it.

Confident in Potter's assessment of what he'd found, Severus promptly abandoned his own search to assist with disarming any potential traps. He joined Potter in the far corner. Stretching his own senses, Severus quickly verified the strong feel of latent magic and pinpointed its origin. Curious as to how precise Potter's discernment was, he asked, “Can you determine the origin?”

Fairly confident, Harry pointed to a warped floorboard. “From under that board.”

Severus eyed him shrewdly. “I believe earlier you underestimated what you are capable of, Potter.” Once again mentally cursing Potter's foul relatives, Severus said brusquely, “While overconfidence is dangerous, so, too, is self-effacement.”

Harry simply nodded in agreement; he'd heard various refrains of the same sentiment from Snape and the Bar many times. He was trying to believe it. Occasionally he even succeeded.

Changing the subject before it descended into another lecture on his potential, Harry asked, “It seems too easy, think it's a setup?”

“Give me a moment,” Severus said curtly, already searching for a pattern in the magic that would indicate a hostile spell lying dormant. “Ah, very clever,” he murmured with reluctant admiration at the Dark Lord's ingenious trap.

Trying to find whatever Snape had sensed, Harry asked with frustration apparent in his voice, “What?”

Severus turned to Potter. The irritation the brat felt was clear on his face and in his stance. Smirking inwardly at the young man's impatience, Severus calmly instructed Potter on the method to discern the magical pattern.

“How do you know all this shite?” Harry demanded petulantly.

Rolling his eyes, Severus drawled, “For Merlin's sake, Potter, someone did the same for me that I just did for you.” He sneered. “Did you think I was spawned knowing intricate magical skills?”

“Actually, I have a hard time picturing you as anything besides the sarcastic bastard standing in front of me,” Harry said with an impertinent grin.

Glaring at the brat's insolence, Severus said acerbically, “Now that you have managed to detect the pattern, are you capable of utilizing your feeble intellect to grasp the intent of the spell?”

Letting the insult roll off his back, Harry concentrated once again on the feel of the magic. “All I can tell is that it will do physical harm,” he said after a moment.

“Perhaps we'll make a wizard out of you yet, Potter,” Severus drawled. He smirked at the outraged `hey' from Potter. “You should memorize that pattern; it was a favorite of the Dark Lord and many of his followers.”

Still glaring at Snape's insult, Harry asked, “But what does the curse do?”

“It will wither the flesh off your bones until you break the curse,” Severus said harshly. “Once triggered, the damage from the curse is irreversible.”

Eyes widening at the serious consequences, Harry demanded, “Tell me you know how to break the curse before that.”

Rolling his eyes, Severus snapped, “Of course I know how to break it.” He eyed Potter cautiously, unsure as to how the brat would take his next revelation. He was careful to word it ambiguously. “The method is… frowned upon by the likes of Dumbledore.”

“Almost everything I've done in the last year is frowned on by Dumbledore,” Harry said as he tried to figure out what Snape was hinting at. Deciding bluntness would serve him best, he simply asked, “What is the method? And why is it worrying you?”

Potter's usual lack of subtlety was annoying but useful on this occasion; Severus didn't know if he'd have been able to actually suggest it otherwise. “It requires an illegal dark ritual,” he growled, then added softly, “I am reluctant to allow you to participate in it.”

Harry tilted his head as he studied the other man. Snape was acting uncharacteristically vague. “Why?”

“Never mind,” Severus snapped as he agitatedly pulled his hair back in a pony-tail and secured it with a clasp from his pocket. Determined to keep Potter as far away from the more risky aspects of the upcoming ritual as possible, Severus demanded, “Be prepared to do as I say.”

Seeing he wouldn't get any more out of Snape now, Harry resolved to pry it out of him when they'd finished. “Fine, just tell me what to do.”

Well aware Potter was annoyed at his avoidance of the issue, Severus pulled vials from his bag as he prepared for the ritual. He knew intimately how seductive the Dark Arts could be, and Severus had no intention of allowing Potter to fall victim to their lure as he'd done. His soul was already scarred; he wouldn't risk Harry's.

He sent Potter outside to transfigure a white swan. When Potter came back with a flawless bird, Severus succinctly explained what the brat would need to know. “The ritual is based on Alchemy. There will be a fourteen point star drawn with mercury, the Horcrux the center point,” he said curtly. “I will sacrifice the swan; it is the alchemical symbol of purity. Then add the final ingredient, oil of vitriol.”

Harry watched Snape skillfully prepare for the ritual. He was curious about it; he'd never seen a dark ritual, only read about them. Harry tightened his grip on the flapping bird. “What do you need me to do?”

“Give me the bird,” Severus demanded. Potter handed over the creature with alacrity. Severus rolled his eyes and pointedly silenced and immobilized the bird. “Now you will stand over there,” Severus decreed, pointing to the corner farthest from where they were.

“And if any unforeseen complications arise, you will immediately Apparate to Luc and bring him here,” Severus stated unrelentingly. He would do everything in his power to shield Potter from any possible consequences of the ritual.

Both of Harry's brows rose incredulously. “That's it?” he asked disbelievingly. There was more going on here than Harry could understand. He was aware the rite Snape was using was dark, and it didn't bother him, Snape wouldn't use if it wasn't necessary. But there was something the older man was keeping from him.

“Just do as you're told for once in your life,” Severus growled as he outlined the star in mercury.

Seeing that Snape was intent on what he was doing and not wanting to risk an accident, Harry held his tongue and made his way to his assigned watching place. When Snape casually slit the swan's throat and insured the blood fell in the center of the star, Harry was surprised that he felt no different towards the older man. He'd always known Snape could be ruthless when the situation called for it, and seeing it first hand didn't change his opinion of the other man. While he could understand how some people would shy away from the darker side of Snape, Harry found it intensified his interest in the man.

He could sense the magic gathering, but didn't understand what it was doing; his knowledge of dark magic wasn't up to that. The rite was short and simple; when Snape added the oil of vitriol, there was a sharp crack when the floorboard split in half and it was over. Snape efficiently banished the mercury and disposed of the swan.

“Come here, Potter,” Severus said tightly. The ritual had taken more out of him than he'd expected. He hadn't felt the soul wrenching effects of dark magic in years, and the dizziness caught him off guard. Wondering absently if the soul cleansing potion was responsible, he stumbled as Potter approached. Leaning against the wall for support, Severus was surprised to find his knees would no longer support him as he slid down to the floor.

Shaken, Harry ran to Snape's side. Dropping to his knees beside the man, Harry was alarmed to see Snape was paler than usual. The older man's breathing was heavy and he had his eyes closed, face screwed up in a pained expression. Harry placed a hand on a black clad shoulder. His hands were shaking when he asked, “What's wrong?”

Severus forced his eyes open and held Potter's panicky gaze. “Use the potion, take care of the Horcrux,” he said breathlessly. Keeping his eyes open with sheer force of will, Severus read Potter's intention to ignore his instructions in the defiant green eyes. In something approaching his normal voice, he snapped, “I'll be fine. Do it now.”

Reluctantly, Harry straightened and, after rummaging through Snape's bag, found the soul potion. Quickly removing the cracked floorboard, he coated the ring he'd revealed in the blue solution. As he chanted the incantation in Parseltongue, Harry didn't take his eyes off Snape. The instant the potion glowed, signifying it had done its work, Harry snatched up the ring and thrust it into his pocket.

His head spinning, Severus watched Potter with blurry eyes. He should have remembered taking the soul potion before he'd worked that ritual. He leaned his head against the wall, seeking something solid to stop the spinning. He felt weak as a pigmy puff, and detested the weakness. Severus was pleased that he'd had the foresight to forbid Potter from participating. If the ritual drained him, the consequences to someone as pure as the brat would have been far more severe.

Harry glanced around the cabin, making sure they weren't leaving anything behind as he scooped up Snape's bag and slung it across his shoulder. He went back to Snape's side and knelt down. “Can you stand if I help you?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Severus said as he struggled to get up. He felt a strong hand behind his elbow as Potter pulled him up. He was surprised when Potter slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. “The Horcrux…” he started.

“I've got it,” Harry said. “Now just hold on to me.” Harry held Snape tightly and Apparated away.

They reappeared in Severus bedroom. Realizing where he was, Severus said weakly, “I didn't think you could Apparate into Sinister Place.”

“Not supposed to be able to,” Harry admitted softly. “I broke through the wards, Gabriel's gonna be pissed.” Dropping the bag on the floor, Harry gently helped Snape onto the bed. He went to undo the man's robes and had his hands slapped away. “Stop it,” Harry growled. “I think you're going into shock.”

Ignoring the weak protests from Snape, Harry quickly removed the outer robes and then the man's shoes. He eased Snape back on the pillows before straightening and calling, “Dobby.”

“Not that creature, Potter,” Severus groaned.

Dobby popped into the room, and Harry quickly instructed him to find Luc or Devlin and bring them back immediately. Sure help was on the way, Harry grabbed a restorative draught from Snape's bag. Easing onto the side of the bed, taking care not to disturb Snape too much, Harry helped the other man drink the potion.

He'd done everything he could think of; feeling helpless and worried, Harry shifted them both until Snape's head rested on his lap. Stroking the inky hair, he muttered, “Stubborn git, should have let me help.”

“Didn't want the Dark Arts to damage you, Harry,” Severus said softly. He was so tired, even with the restorative. Severus couldn't remember the last time someone had comforted him when he was weak. Indeed, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd let do it. Quite sure he would be mortified for reveling in the attention tomorrow, Severus let go and simply enjoyed it while it lasted.

Chuckling, Harry looked down at Snape and smiled. “Do you even know what you're saying?” he asked.

Severus turned his head back and forth to encourage Potter to keep up the petting. “Hmmm, does it matter?” he replied sleepily.

Harry hurried to resume stroking Snape's hair; all the rubbing on his lap was bringing to mind other things he had no business thinking, much less right now. “So all it takes to get you to call me Harry is a Dark Arts ritual,” Harry said with a wry grin.

Several minutes later there was a perfunctory knock on the door as Devlin and Luc hurried in. Devlin looked over the scene and drawled, “Harry, was there something you wanted to tell us?”

“Shut it, arse. Severus did some dark rite and ended up like this, I don't know what else to do,” he hurriedly explained. He vowed at that moment to study first aid, Muggle and magical; he never wanted to feel this helpless again.

For once Luc abandoned his usual taunting and got straight to the point. “What ritual did he do?” he demanded as he leaned over Snape and lifted an eyelid.

Harry quickly detailed what he knew about the ritual and why they had done it. Luc asked a few questions before stepping back and saying, “He'll be fine. He simply drained his magic; he'll be back to normal after a good night's rest.”

Snape had fallen asleep during the conversation. Harry eased himself out from under him and got to his feet. After checking that someone would remain with the sleeping man, Harry went to his room.

He barely got the door closed behind him when the events of the afternoon caught up with him, forcing him to lean against the door. Giving in to his jumble of emotions, he slid to the floor. Pulling his knees up, he rested his head on them. Stupid git, Harry grumbled to himself, relieved that Snape would be okay. He really should have let me help, but that's Snape for you. He's going to be disgusted with himself tomorrow. Why do I care so much?

August 1998

Severus walked through the strangely deserted halls of Sinister Place the last week before term began. Eventually tracking down the inhabitants, he was startled to discover Potter, armed with only Slytherin's daggers, furiously attacking a sword wielding Gabriel. The others stood along the training room wall, just inside the door.

Swiftly making his way to Luc's side, Severus demanded sardonically, “Is it a new policy of the Bar to allow its members to skewer each other?”

Rolling his eyes, Luc drawled, “Harry is in a snit.”

“What would enrage Potter sufficiently to precipitate that?” Severus asked, pointing to the two men engaged in a fierce duel. He watched in amazement. Gabriel was a master swordsman, widely acknowledged as one of the best in the world, even at his young age. Yet Potter faced him with two daggers and was gaining the upper hand against the longer blade.

Devlin joined the conversation with a growled, “Before giving in to Harry's demand for a duel, Gabriel managed to pry this out of the brat.” He handed Severus an advance copy of the next day's Prophet.

At Severus' questioning look, Vane explained bitterly, “That Skeeter creature solicitously sent Harry an advance copy.”

Quickly reading the luridly titled article, Severus understood the fierce expressions of the Bar, and Potter's anger. The loathsome reporter had tracked down the Dursleys for an interview. Potter's relations could apparently overcome their distaste of wizards at the promise of money.

The article was vicious in its condemnation of Potter. The Dursleys complained of being left destitute after years of graciously caring for the `freak'. When informed of Potter's dual inheritance, they told of how they lived in fear that the brat would use his magic to harm them. Reading between the lines, Severus saw the desire for compensation from the Muggles, and revenge on Skeeter's part. Between Vane, Devlin and himself, Skeeter had no access to Potter. The brat gave one interview every six months to a reputable reporter vetted by Luc. Needless to say, that woman had never been approved.

Finished with the paper and his ruminations, Severus turned back to watch the duel. Disbelieving, he watched as Potter reversed the dagger in his right hand, aligning the blade along his forearm and stopped the downward swing of Gabriel's sword. Muscles straining, Potter forced the sword down and aside. Stepping in close, Potter whipped the other dagger up and pressed it flat against Gabriel's throat, ending the duel.

Breathing hard, Harry waited for Gabriel to drop the sword, thus signaling his defeat. When he heard the sword hit the floor, Harry nodded stiffly as he quickly slid his daggers into their sheathes. Still angry and desperate for some type of escape, Harry strode from the room, ignoring the calls for his attention. “I'm taking the bike out,” he called out, and was gone.

Dropping to the floor in an inelegant heap, Gabriel took a moment to catch his breath. “Well, it's always nice to see the student outdo the master.”

“Whatever possessed you to fight the brat so unequally?” snapped Severus.

Chuckling dryly, Gabriel said, “I haven't been able to beat Harry with daggers for six months.”

“So what have the two of you been doing in here for the last six months? Or do I want to know?” drawled Devlin.

Accepting Vane's helping hand, Gabriel surged to his feet. Wiping down his sword with a towel, he said, “Just what you saw. I've been teaching him to beat a sword with those daggers of his.”

“Besides, Harry and I haven't been lovers for ages,” Gabriel added casually as he placed his sword in the cabinet. “We make better friends than lovers. Plus, he's looking for his `dark companion.'”

Busy suppressing his inappropriate urge to cackle gleefully at Gabriel's admission, Severus was relieved when Vane grumbled, “Some of us don't want to know about Harry's love life, Gabriel.”

“Speak for yourself,” Luc said leeringly.

Shooting Luc a warning glare, Devlin demanded, “What are we going to do about this disgusting article?”

A diabolical grin slowly spread across Severus' face. “I have a suggestion,” he drawled malevolently.

Devlin eyed him shrewdly. “What?”

Severus quickly outlined his plan to the Bar; after a moment of astonished silence, Devlin's smile soon matched Severus'.

“Right, so let's do it,” Devlin commanded.

It had been normal weekday evening on Privet Drive, until three wizards Apparated into a deserted alley. Devlin, Gabriel and Severus strode briskly down the sidewalk, their foreboding demeanor causing children and adults alike to eye them warily. They were dressed in Muggle clothes; they had no intention of bringing the Ministry down on their heads. Reaching number four, Severus knocked on the door imperiously.

Vernon Dursley swung the door open a moment later. Severus kept his expression impassive. “Ah, Mr. Dursley, I was hoping to find you at home.”

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Vernon asked politely, his eyes resting briefly on the expensive rings each man wore.

Stepping forward, Devlin said affably, “Might we come in? It is a sensitive topic, unless, of course, you would like your neighbors to hear.”

“Please, come inside then,” Vernon said, opening the door to allow them to pass. Closing the door behind them, he called, “Petunia, we have guests. Bring some tea.”

Dursley led the three into the living room, where they settled on the couch. Severus sneered inwardly at the unbelievable Muggleness of the house. Nearly gagging at the pictures of a grossly fat Muggle boy, Severus turned to Dursley. Making sure to keep his tone bland, he asked, “I see you have a son. Is he about?”

Chest swelling with what Severus assumed was pride, Dursley said, “My Dudley's upstairs. Would you care to meet him?”

“I'm certain that would be…interesting,” Severus drawled diplomatically. Interesting as watching Filch having sex with his cat, he mused inwardly.

He ignored the pointed glare Devlin shot him as Dursley went to retrieve his offspring. A moment later, alarmed at the thunderous clamor on the stairs, Severus barely refrained from shuddering in disgust when Vernon Dursley proudly presented his son. The boy was nearly as wide as he was tall. Remembering how skinny Potter had been before leaving this place, Severus gave Devlin an imploring look. He knew he would be unable to keep up the charade.

Devlin stepped in smoothly and spoke graciously, “What a strapping young man. Tell me, how old is he?”

The group made polite small talk until Petunia Dursley came in with a tea tray. When everyone was served and sipping their tea, Severus stated their purpose. “No doubt you wish to know why three strangers have invaded your home.” At the interested looks from the Dursleys, he continued evenly, “We are here about your well-deserved compensation regarding Harry Potter.”

Severus watched with sardonic amusement as Vernon Dursley's distaste for magic warred with his greed. After a tense moment the greed won out, and Dursley ground out, “How much?”

Setting his cup on the coffee table, Severus drawled coldly, “You misunderstood me.” Letting his contempt for the Dursleys show at last, he spat, “You will be compensating Harry.”

Vernon surged to his feet. Face nearly purple with rage, he shouted, “Freaks! That boy deserves nothing from me!”

Gabriel stood; slowly removing his long coat and displaying the knives it had hidden, he eyed Vernon coldly. “Sit down,” he said harshly.

Gasping, Petunia shrank back in her chair. “What do you want from us?” she asked in a wavering voice.

Nobody spoke as Gabriel stared down Vernon; after a moment Vernon gave in. With a vein throbbing on his forehead, he dropped heavily back into his chair. Gabriel crossed his arms across his chest and remained standing.

“I'd like to see you turned into slugs and diced for potion ingredients,” Severus spat when the big oaf sat down. “Barring that, I'd have you prostrate before Potter, begging his forgiveness for your foul treatment of him.”

Smirking, Devlin drawled maliciously, “I voted for drawn and quartered, then fed to the dragons. But I was told that would give the beasts indigestion.”

Gabriel laughed, causing the Muggles to flinch. “That's a good idea, but I like the one about sending them to the Siberian werewolf colony in their knickers.”

“That… old man said you…people can't…hurt us,” Vernon stuttered nervously.

Severus chuckled dryly. “We can't physically harm you unless we wish to land in Azkaban,” he admitted slyly. Seeing the confidence return to Dursley, he added coldly, “So this will have to do.”

Ejecting his wand from its holster, Severus stood and intoned, “Mesedi Veridicitia.”

Petunia screamed. Squealing, Dudley stood and grabbed his bottom. Vernon turned purple again as he stood and advanced threateningly on Severus. Glaring fiercely, Severus snarled viciously, “If you attack me, I can legally defend myself.”

He tutted in disgust when Vernon backed down with a frightened expression; he'd hoped the hothead wouldn't listen. “Pity. I quite looked forward to turning you into the swine you are,” he said derisively. He contemptuously slipped his wand back in its holster.

Dudley attracted Devlin's attention when he tripped over a footstool while turning in circles trying to see his behind. Devlin sneered. “Boy, what are you doing?”

“Seeing if there's a tail,” Dudley said distractedly. He stopped spinning and slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

“What did you do to my Dudders?” Petunia demanded shrilly.

Severus sat down regally. “It's really a very simple spell. I'll demonstrate its effects.” Smiling wickedly, he asked, “Madame, perhaps you'd grace us with your opinion of your husband?”

“He's a decent provider, but needs to lose a hundred pounds and is dreadfully unimaginative in bed,” she spouted mindlessly. Gasping, Petunia stuffed her fist in her mouth and looked to Vernon apprehensively.

Vernon sputtered wildly, his complexion changing from purple to white. Severus threw back his head and laughed. When he'd calmed, he drawled, “While that is very enlightening, we have a couple of things to clear up before we depart.”

Turning to a widely smiling Devlin, Severus raised a brow in invitation. Devlin didn't bother to keep the malicious glee out of his voice as he asked, “What were your motives in giving that interview to Skeeter?”

“To get money out of the little freak,” Vernon spat viciously.

“Were you financially drained by supporting Harry?” was the next question from Devlin.

Glaring, but unable to keep silent, Vernon growled, “No, the old man paid us for his care.”

Devlin took care to word his next question carefully. He was aware that Harry had made vague, oblique threats to the Dursleys. “At any time, did Harry make any unprovoked threats?”

“No,” Vernon admitted grudgingly.

Severus leaned forward and fixed Dursley with an intense stare. He was satisfied when the fat oaf shrank back in his seat. “Did you, in fact, lock Potter in cupboard until he was eleven, deny him food, and force him to act as your servant?” Severus demanded forcefully.

Vernon glared and tried to resist; in the end he ground out, “Yes.”

Finding his wand in his hand without realizing he'd drawn it, Severus glared at Dursley. He'd known the truth, but to face the people responsible for Potter's dismal childhood and see no remorse left him furious. Devlin gave him a look that said they'd follow his lead. Regretfully, Severus put away his wand. Even with Potter furious at the vermin, no doubt the brat would end up feeling guilty if Severus cursed the Muggles and was sent to Azkaban.

Standing abruptly, Severus motioned for Devlin and Gabriel to follow him; he would not test his restraint by staying any longer. Vernon Dursley intercepted them at the door and demanded, “What did you do to us, freak?”

“It's a mild truth spell, you incompetent arse,” Severus said spitefully. Stepping around Dursley, he pulled open the door and strode out.

Devlin smiled cruelly. “For the next month, you and your witless family will be compelled to tell the truth when asked a direct question.” He and Gabriel followed Severus into the yard. The three men strolled casually back to the alley. Once there, Devlin turned to Gabriel. “Did you get all of that?” he asked.

“Yeah, the whole thing,” Gabriel said with a delighted laugh. “I'll edit out the threats before I send it to a couple of decent reporters.”

Pleased with the evening's work, the three satisfied wizards Apparated away.

October 1998

Late on a Friday evening in the first week of October, Harry was leaning against a stack of pillows on his bed at the Potter house. He flipped a page of the book on animagus transformation he was reviewing. Devlin had been trying to help him for months now, but Harry kept missing something. He hoped by rereading the theory he would finally get it. Saoirse, the snake Snape had given him, was coiled contentedly on his stomach. Harry absently stroked her scales as he read.

He stretched out his leg and groaned softly. Since he'd outdone Gabriel with daggers, the other man seemed to have made it his mission in life to bring Harry to the same level with a sword. He'd spent most of the day sparring with Gabriel and was paying for it in aches and pains now. From her perch near the open window, Hedwig hooted softly in sympathy.

He'd been reading for about an hour when a strange dark grey owl flew through the window and circled the bed. Hissing in alarm, Saoirse slithered up Harry's chest to twine around his neck. Harry set aside his book and hissed for the snake to calm down. He held out his arm and the owl landed lightly. After untying the parchment, Harry offered the owl a treat from his bedside table. The grey owl took the treat delicately from Harry's hand and flew back out the window as silently as it had arrived.

Harry unrolled the scroll and was surprised to find it was in a language he didn't recognize. Curious about who was writing to him in an unknown language, Harry cast a general translation charm on the parchment. “Oh, that helped,” he muttered disgustedly when even with the charm he could only read two words.

The two words he could make out, `fianna' and `admittance', stirred him into action. He didn't bother with a shirt as he tucked the scroll in his pocket. Coaxing Saoirse down to his wrist, Harry threw the first robe he saw on over his drawstring trousers, leaving the robe open. He headed downstairs, jumping the last few steps in his impatience. When Harry reached the living room, he threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace, called out, “Severus Snape's quarters,” and stepped into the green flames.

Stepping gracefully out of the fire, Harry found the sitting room empty. Not wanting to startle Snape, he called, “Severus?” There was no answer. Harry quickly checked Snape's lab and found it empty as well. He turned around and re-entered the sitting room. Deciding the letter was too important to wait, Harry knocked softly on Snape's bedroom door. He was surprised when it opened beneath his hand. Pushing open the door, Harry stuck his head inside cautiously. When he wasn't summarily cursed, he eased the door further and entered the room.

Snape wasn't there either, but Harry couldn't resist a quick glance around the room. He'd never been in Snape's bedroom at Hogwarts before. The color scheme from the sitting room carried over here as well. The four-poster bed had black curtains, with a black duvet cover; the blood red sheets were a surprise. Harry thought this room fit Snape's personality as well as the rest of the man's rooms did - austere with an unexpected splash of hidden passion.

While he gave into his curiosity about Snape, Harry heard the bathroom door behind him open. He whirled around and his jaw dropped in shock. Snape stood in the doorframe, naked, damp hair brushed back from his face. Harry couldn't resist; he ran appraising eyes from the top of Snape's head down his surprisingly defined chest and still further, stopping at the man's long toes. Dragging his eyes slowly back up the pale, well-defined thighs, Harry stared in fascination at Snape's cock. The only thought running through Harry's mind was, Damn, the man's long everywhere.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the long, uncut cock that jutted out from the black curls between Snape's legs. Harry knew he should say something, not stand there staring like an idiot, but he couldn't force words past the sudden swell of desire that clogged his throat and filled his prick.

Severus wasn't ashamed of his body, so he simply stood and let the brat look his fill. There was no disgust in Potter's face. Meanwhile, he took advantage Potter's distraction and made an appraisal of his own. Potter was bare-chested under his open robes. All the sparring with Gabriel had defined Potter's chest. It was not the bulky muscles of a troll-wrestler, but the lean sleek physique of a swordsman. The thin cotton trousers did nothing to hide Potter's impressive erection.

When several moments passed and Potter still didn't speak, Severus asked sarcastically, “Do I meet your approval?”

“Yes,” Harry replied absently. He realized what he'd said and blushed. Harry was mortified; he was eighteen years old, had been with men and women both, yet he still blushed like a virgin. And he was still staring at Snape's cock. “I'll…just go…sitting room…now,” he stammered.

Smirking wickedly at Potter's stuttering, Severus waited for the brat to leave. Potter didn't move, nor did he lift his eyes. His cock swelling beneath Potter's intense regard, Severus tensed and mentally repeated, Must not throw the brat on the bed and take him. “Potter!” he barked sharply, hoping to stop the brat's incessant staring before Severus did something he'd regret.

Harry's eyes snapped to Snape's face. There was a gleam in the black eyes he couldn't interpret. Harry flushed again and mumbled, “I'll just go wank in…I mean wait... in the other room.” He fled.

Sighing heavily, Severus walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. Dressing quickly, Severus resolved to put the incident behind him. While he realized Potter was indeed attracted to him physically, it was most likely due to the hormones of an eighteen-year-old. Severus would never again settle for merely a physical relationship, especially not one with Potter.

He had no doubt he could seduce the brat. The interest was undoubtedly there, but such a venture would cost Severus his heart. He already felt far more for Potter than he was comfortable with; he had no expectations that his affections would be returned. Besides, he thought bitterly, Potter deserves much more than a man such as me.

Harry closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment to regain his equilibrium. Quickly thinking disgusting thoughts, Hagrid and Flitwick together, he sighed in relief as his erection died a swift death. He stood shakily and went to Snape's desk. Rummaging through the drawer, he located the pack of cigarettes he'd known would be there. Taking them to the couch, he dropped heavily onto it and lit a fag with his wand.

Taking a deep drag, hoping to calm his fiercely beating heart, Harry hung his head in humiliation. I did not stand there staring at Snape's cock. Snape, for Merlin's sake. Okay, so he's a bloody sexy beast without his robes, but he'll flay me alive for staring like that. I'll never live this down, he thought morosely.

Hearing the bedroom door open, Harry nervously looked up. Snape gave him that unfathomable look again; breaking eye contact, Harry dropped his head and took another drag.

Seeing how uncomfortable Potter was, Severus softly offered, “Tea?” As he'd hoped, the tension in Potter's body eased as it became apparent that Severus would not mention what had occurred.

“That would be brilliant,” Harry said. He was relieved Snape was dismissing the whole bedroom thing. Harry wasn't sure how much more embarrassment he could endure tonight. Saoirse chose that moment to poke her head out of his sleeve. In his confusion Harry had forgotten he'd brought her with him. Happy to have something to distract him for a moment, Harry hissed to her softly, telling her where they were and why.

Hearing the hissing coming from the other room, Severus was glad he had his back to Potter. He reached down and adjusted the erection that had sprung to life at the first hint of Parseltongue. He didn't know why the snake language from Potter's mouth aroused him. When the Dark Lord spoke it Severus had felt only dread, even when Potter spoke it in his second year it didn't cause such a reaction. But for the last couple of years, hearing Potter speak the sibilant language caused his cock to harden.

Ruthlessly suppressing his reaction, Severus hurriedly threw together a tea tray. He carried it to the sitting room, trying to ignore the hissing. After setting the tray on the table, Severus prepared Potter's tea the way he'd seen the brat drink it − sweet and milky, − then his own. Passing the cup to Potter, Severus was careful to ensure their hands didn't brush.

Taking the cup from Snape, Harry sipped his tea and relaxed even more. Sitting in companionable silence in Snape's sitting room was familiar and comfortable. After several minutes Harry put down his cup and pulled the crumpled parchment from his pocket. He smoothed out the worst of the wrinkles and handed it to Snape. “That came this evening; I tried a general translation charm, but still can't read it.”

“You were unable to determine the language?” Severus asked as he took the letter. Potter shook his head. He looked over the unusual symbols, mentally comparing them to the many languages he knew. After several moments he recognized it. “Ah, I have not seen the old Irish Gaelic written in years,” he murmured.

“So you can read it, right?” Harry asked impatiently. He set a restless Saoirse on the floor, never taking his eyes off Snape.

“No,” Severus admitted, “but, knowing the language, I can look up the translation charm.” Suiting words to deed, Severus stood and walked to his bookshelves.

Finding the volume he was looking for, he took it down and riffled through the pages. Quickly locating the charm he sought, Severus cast it on the parchment and watched as the letters magically rearranged themselves into English. Stifling the urge to read the intriguing letter, Severus made his way to Potter's side and handed the letter over to its intended recipient.

Harry took the letter and looked it over. His eyes grew wider the longer he read. After reading through it twice, he thrust it unceremoniously to Snape. When the other man took the letter, Harry quickly lit another cigarette and leaned back on the couch with a resigned sigh.

Still intrigued by who would write to Potter in an archaic language, Severus read:

Harry Potter,

Congratulations on translating this missive. To do so shows your resourcefulness, and the quality of your mentors. There is no shame in asking for assistance when you find a task is out of your reach. No doubt you want to know who I am and why I'd give you such advice. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Ronan Brody, Captain of the Fianna. The Council of Warriors has given me leave to make you an offer.

Due to your excellent advisors I will assume you are aware of what the Fianna are. You came to our attention when you survived the evil one's curse; we have kept track of you since. In light of your obvious connection to Albus Dumbledore, it was decided that we would not approach you as long as you remained under his influence. However, circumstances have changed; you distanced yourself from Dumbledore, and allied yourself with the Bar Sinister, a group the Fianna respect.

Dumbledore has never revealed the reason behind our withdrawal from the wizarding world even though it was largely due to his manipulations. After the war with Grindelwald, Dumbledore failed to keep his promises of public support of our goals; he had used those promises to gain the assistance of the Fianna. That, along with his general disrespect of our advice and methods, caused us to withdraw before he could condemn us, as seemed likely.

Now that you understand why we have waited to approach you, allow me to make my offer. The Fianna are offering admittance to Harry Potter on the following conditions:

1.That he not inform Dumbledore through word or deed of this offer until he has completed his training.

2.That he swear to keep secret our location and details of the training.

3.That he accept only if he is prepared to train wholeheartedly.

If you accept our conditions, the Fianna are prepared to offer you much, Harry Potter. We will train you to be one of the fiercest warriors in the land. Along with combat skills, you will learn strategy that can be applied in battle or politics. Should you complete your training and prove worthy, the Fianna will stand with you for the rest of your life in any situation.

If you accept this offer, be ready on the 14th of this month and a Fiannan warrior will await you at the apothecary in Shannon until noon. I am quite sure your Master Snape will know the location.

Think carefully, Harry Potter. While the Fianna can hone you to razor sharpness, only you can decide if that is your desire. It is our wish that you join us, Lightning child.

Respectfully,

Ronan Brody

While Snape read the letter, Harry was lost in thought. Honed to razor sharpness, Lightning child… Both the bloody premonition and the legend. Fate is pushing me to be a warrior, it seems. Guess I can't put off this decision any longer, he mused. What do I want?

He pondered that question for several moments; he'd never seriously considered what he wanted out of life. I want peace; I want a world where all the innocents can freely walk the street. A world without the insane pureblood prejudice, one where Remus and others like him are treated as people and not creatures, he realized. Okay, what else? What do I want for myself? A partner that sees me, he decided, not whatever shite the public believe, but who I really am. I want someone to love unconditionally, and who loves me the same way.

So lost in his new realizations, Harry didn't notice that Snape had finished the letter. The older man attracted his attention by tugging a lock of hair that had fallen across Harry's face. Harry looked up. “Sorry, was thinking.”

Severus nodded absently; he could see how the letter would provoke such an exercise. He knew that Potter would end up accepting the offer, and, frankly, it was in his best interest. That didn't stop the painful tightening of his chest at the knowledge that Potter would be gone for an undetermined amount of time.

Pushing away his own feelings on the matter, Severus set the parchment on the table and leaned back in his chair. He looked over Potter, noting the preoccupied expression, and offered, “Would you care to discuss the Fianna's offer?”

“No. I understood what they're offering and what they expect,” Harry said quietly. Saoirse was winding herself around his leg; Harry plucked her up and set her in his lap, stroking her head absently.

Severus watched Potter pet his snake. After a moment, he asked, “Is there anything I can help you work through?” While he waited for a response, he poured them both more tea. Pushing the cup into Potter's hand, he sat back with his own.

Harry sipped his tea; lowering his teacup, he looked up at Snape. “I was thinking about what I want in life. I figured it out, and now I have to decide if what I'll have to do to get it is worth it.”

Not wanting to force Potter to reveal what was obviously a very personal realization, Severus sipped his tea thoughtfully for a moment. “The only advice I can offer in that case,” he began, “is that you need to decide if what you desire is worth any risk you'd face in obtaining it.”

“Oh, I think it's worth the risk,” Harry admitted softly. He'd do almost anything to have a lover and companion that would love him unconditionally. There had been so little love that he could remember in his life that even the dream of it was worth the risk.

Seeing the desire and determination run through Potter's eyes, Severus leaned forward and asked, “And will you be able to look yourself in the mirror and not see remorse or regret when all is said and done?”

Understanding what Snape was asking, Harry vowed then and there that, whatever it took, he'd have his dream, no matter the cost. Green eyes flashing with all the boldness of a Gryffindor and the cunning of a Slytherin, Harry simply said, “Yes, I can.” He held Snape's eyes for several moments, until he saw acceptance of his decision and, strangely enough, a muted grief.

Well, Fate, Harry thought, I'll be the fucking warrior you want. But you will give me the companion that legend promised me. If I can defeat Voldemort, I won't hesitate to take on Fate itself.

Welcome Back

July 31st 1999

Although the summer sun set in a brilliant, colorful display, it went completely unnoticed in the dungeons, where Severus poured the last of the blood-replenishing potion into a vial and sealed it tightly. He quickly tidied up his work area, and left his lab for his bedroom.

After a quick but thorough shower, he pulled on the clothes he'd set aside earlier. The robes were his customary black, but made of silk. He wore them open over a pair of black slacks and an emerald green turtle-neck.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed pulling on his boot, when Fawkes flashed into the room. Severus eyed the bird warily, positive it came bearing a summons from the headmaster. When Severus didn't move to take the parchment tied on his leg, Fawkes trilled sharply and landed on the bed beside him.

“I have no desire to speak with the old man right now, you deranged avian menace,” Severus grumbled as he reluctantly untied the scroll. Fawkes seemed to take no notice of his ire, not that the phoenix ever did. Once the parchment had been removed, Fawkes gave a soothing chirp and left in a ball of flames.

Ripping open the parchment and reading quickly, Severus growled at the message. It was as he'd feared; the headmaster wanted a meeting, immediately. Albus had blithered on about some concern for the next Order meeting. Glancing at the clock, Severus decided he had enough time if he kept the meeting short and used the headmaster's Floo.

He stalked quickly down the hallways, ignoring the portraits' incessant questioning of where he was going in such a hurry. Reaching the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, Severus spit out the newest asinine password, “Licorice Lips.” After a quick ride up the stone stairs, he entered the office impatiently.

He paused in the doorway, surprised to see the Granger girl and Weasley number six studiously bent over a book at the headmaster's desk, and Albus himself absent. He'd been free of them for a year now, and was not pleased to see them here. Severus couldn't avoid seeing them at the occasional Order meeting, but now he would have to speak to the irritating twits.

Settling his sneer firmly in place, Severus slammed the door and snorted in amusement when they both jumped and whirled to face him. The idiots didn't even draw their wands. Striding into the room, he snapped, “Where is the headmaster?”

“He'll be back in just a moment, Professor,” Granger said in that irritatingly superior way of hers. He nodded in acknowledgment and turned to the window. Gazing absently at the stars, Severus reconsidered his annoyance at being summoned. The more he thought about it, the more smugly satisfied he became. Yes, he mused, this will be most enjoyable, especially with the addition of Weasley and Granger.

A few moments had passed when he heard the door to Albus' private rooms open. Turning to face the headmaster, Severus tamped down his vengeful pleasure of the upcoming revelation.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk. “Severus, so glad you could make it.” Gesturing to the teapot on a nearby table, he asked, “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

Approaching the group gathered around the desk, Severus sat in a chair where he would be able to easily watch the reactions he would no doubt provoke. “No, thank you, Albus,” he said. Crossing his legs, he added, “I'm afraid we will have to keep this discussion brief as I have an engagement this evening.”

“I can see that,” Dumbledore agreed, as his eyes flitted over Severus' attire. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly as he leaned back in his chair. “Forgive an old man's curiosity, Severus, but it is not often you willingly participate in social affairs. Might I ask the occasion?”

One corner of Severus' mouth twitched up as he drawled casually, “The Bar has put together a small welcome home party in honor of Mr. Potter's return.”

The reaction was everything he could have hoped for. Dumbledore looked disbelieving, Granger's eyes lit with curiosity even as she frowned in apparent dismay. And Weasley simply looked confused.

Recovering quickly, Dumbledore admitted, “I was unaware Harry had gone away.” The twinkle in his eye died and he stoked his beard restlessly. “Where has he been?”

Severus settled more comfortably in his chair. “Potter has been training with the Fianna for the last nine months.”

Albus' face paled and he clutched at his beard. Seeming to realize what he was doing, Dumbledore dropped his hands to his lap and out of Severus' sight. Granger gasped and blurted out, “But he's not old enough. You have to be nineteen to start the training and Harry's turning nineteen today.”

Shifting in his chair so he could face Granger but still see Albus out of the corner of his eye, Severus sneered. “It seems there is something you don't know after all,” he said bitingly.

Severus scathingly offered further explanation, “If you had made a complete study of the Fianna, you would be aware age is not a factor. They offer admittance two years after one reaches their majority. Potter reached his early, therefore he was admitted early.”

Seeming to have regained his composure, Dumbledore interrupted, “Are you quite sure he was with the Fianna?” He had a distressed air about him and his hands were still out of sight. “I was under the impression that the Fianna trained for eighteen months, not nine.”

“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Severus admitted. He then smiled smugly. “However, the Fiannan captain claims that due to Potter's excellent tutors he already knew more than half of what they would teach.” He accepted that taking joy in the shock and confusion was petty, but couldn't bring himself to care.

“But the books I've read say they don't exist anymore. That the Fianna were disbanded at the end of the war with Grindelwald,” Hermione insisted with a stubborn gleam in her eye. She turned to Dumbledore with a beseeching look.

Dumbledore sighed. “They did not disband,” he admitted softly. “They merely withdrew from the wizarding world and took their organization underground.”

Weasley had been following the conversation with a growing look of consternation. “What are the bloody Fianna anyway?” he demanded.

Granger's head turned so quickly Severus was surprised she didn't have whiplash. She took a lecturing tone and said, “Ron, the Fianna, also known as the Guardians of Ireland, are a legendary group of warriors that have existed for thousands of years.”

She sat back with her brow wrinkled, obviously lost in thought. Weasley said glumly, “So Harry's training to be a warrior with a group of legends.” Severus could hear the ill-disguised jealousy in the statement.

“Potter was already a warrior,” Severus amended. “The offer from the Fianna merely made him a stronger one.” Dumbledore had remained silent; Severus turned to him and raised an eyebrow in question. The headmaster shook his head, but still didn't say anything.

“What I don't understand,” Granger began with a determined expression, “is why they would want Harry. I mean, if they don't want anything to do with society, why pick such a public figure to offer training to?”

Severus tilted his head in approval; maybe the girl had more uses than research. It was an intelligent and logical question. He noticed Dumbledore perk up at the question and surreptitiously lean forward to hear the answer.

Locking his eyes on the headmaster, Severus pointedly answered the question. “Perhaps, Ms. Granger, the Fianna have decided to rejoin society. Perhaps they purposely chose Potter not only for his unrivaled power, but for his influence.”

Still engaged in a silent battle with the headmaster, Severus nearly broke eye contact when Weasley protested, “But Harry hates being singled out cause of his fame, he wouldn't agree to something like that.”

There was a triumphant gleam in the old man's eyes at Weasley's brash statement. Severus gleefully squashed it. “Potter has embraced his Slytherin nature,” he said slyly. “He'll no longer be anyone's mindless tool; he accepted the Fianna's offer because he will do whatever is required to accomplish his goals.” And there's no chance you can stop him now, old man, he finished silently.

Dumbledore lowered his eyes in temporary defeat; Severus was under no delusion that this would be the end of it. The headmaster shakily summoned the teapot and refilled the cup on his desk. After a few moments, Dumbledore gently chastised, “I have received several owls from Harry over the last few months. In them he said only he was training.” Looking up at Severus sadly, he asked, “Why was this information kept from me?”

Refusing to be taken in by the act, Severus said stiffly, “One of the conditions of his admittance was that Potter not broadcast that information until his training was complete.”

The sad look faded and a hard gleam came into Dumbledore's eyes. He placed his cup on the desk and steepled his hands. “Surely, Severus, informing me would not be considered broadcasting the information.”

Severus sneered. “My apologies, Headmaster,” he began. He stood and smoothed his robes. “I was unaware my duties included spying on my apprentice,” he spat sarcastically.

Not waiting for a response, he strode angrily to the fireplace and took a handful of Floo powder. Hand poised to throw the glittery powder into the flames; Severus drawled coldly, “If you'll excuse me, I would like to offer Potter my congratulations on his remarkable achievement.”

He tossed the powder and called out, “The Potter home.” With a final disdainful sneer, Severus stepped into the flames and spun out of sight.

From the back wall of Potter's living room, Severus watched as Potter strode through the door to the cheers of the Bar plus Remus and Tonks. He watched Potter give a slow confident smile and realized that the young man had changed during the nine months he'd been gone.

It was not so much the physical change, though there was one. Potter still hadn't grown any taller, but he was more muscular. His black hair fell to the end of his shoulder blades; the brat looked like the fierce warrior he'd become. The difference was even more evident in his carriage: Potter moved like a predator, graceful and deadly. There was none of the old self-consciousness left in his green eyes; instead, confidence and power seemed to seep from his pores.

Where Severus had found himself attracted by the old Potter, this new version fascinated him. Here was someone that could handle his personality without the submission of their own. Potter was truly his equal now. Not magically; Potter had far outstripped him there long ago. The man before him could walk the fine line of grey without falling to either side. Severus had never desired another person as much as he did Harry Potter in that moment.

Harry entered the house, pleased to see his closest friends there to greet him. When they cheered, he smiled, genuinely happy to be home again. He was swept up by an exuberant Gabriel and hugged tightly. Laughing, Harry squeezed him back and stepped back. His eyes searched the room until he located Snape. He met the older man's eyes for a brief moment and winked.

He didn't get a chance to see Snape's reaction, because Devlin stepped into his view and, after a quick hug, drawled, “Welcome home, brat.”

“Still the brat, am I?” Harry asked ruefully.

Joining the group, Luc embraced him; Harry was startled when the man's hand caressed his arse briefly. “You'll always be my brat,” Luc whispered in Harry's ear, then stepped back, smirking.

Not wanting to cause a scene at his homecoming, Harry made a mental note to talk to Luc later and to keep out of range of those hands. He had no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with Luc; he had his sight set on much darker prey. “Luc, good to see you again,” he said casually.

Harry spent the next two hours catching up with everyone. There was laughter around the dinner table as he recounted some of the more amusing aspects of his training. He was cornered by Gabriel, who demanded details about the training he'd received with the sword. Devlin approached and Harry escaped Gabriel with a promise to show him what he'd learned.

Devlin led him to a deserted corner. “I thought Gabriel would never give up,” Harry said with a grin.

“He can be a tad obsessive,” Devlin allowed. He fixed Harry with a piercing stare. “Have you made your decision?”

A quick glance showed no one was paying attention to their conversation. Harry turned back to Devlin. “Yeah. He's everything I've been looking for.”

“You've considered the fact that his personality will make any relationship difficult?”

Harry chuckled dryly. “He wouldn't be Snape without the insults.” Sobering, he held Devlin's gaze. “I know I'll have to work for it, but he's worth the effort.”

Tilting his head, Devlin asked curiously, “Is it love?”

“I don't know yet,” Harry said with a sigh. “But there's something there, and I can't rest till I've explored it.”

Devlin nodded. “I wanted to be sure. I'd hate to see either of you hurt.” He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. “I know you're not simply toying with him, but make sure you tell him that too.”

“I will,” Harry said. With a grin, he added, “If the bloody man lets me get that close.”

Devlin laughed and pushed Harry back into the room.

He chatted with the others for a while, when he noticed Snape slip outside. After unobtrusively excusing himself, Harry waited until everyone was occupied, then slipped out the front door.

Trying once again to sneak up on Snape, Harry quietly stalked the other man. He spotted him leaning against a pillar with a lit cigarette. Moving silently, Harry crept up behind Snape. He had one hand raised, about to curl a finger around a lock of hair, when he heard, “I know you're there, Potter.”

Harry dropped his hand guiltily; Snape turned around and glared at him. Harry tucked both hands in the pockets of his slacks, hung his head sheepishly and scuffed his feet on the floor. He looked up from under his lashes and asked, “How do you always catch me?”

Severus snorted at Potter's display. “You can drop the boyishly innocent pose, it didn't work when you were a boy,” he said snidely. He took a drag and blew a perfect smoke ring. “Why are you out here, when you have a houseful of people to irritate?”

Harry snitched the fag from Snape, making sure to brush the other man's hand as he did. He took a drag and passed the cigarette back. Grinning, Harry admitted, “I like irritating you most of all, Severus.”

“I see the Fianna were unable to curb your impudence,” Severus drawled. Potter was standing so close, Severus could feel his body heat, and catch the faint scent of wild summer rain that belonged solely to Potter alone. That scent was the reason he always knew when the brat was nearby.

“I wanted to ask you…” Harry started, when he was interrupted by Gabriel's yell. “Harry, come cut your damn cake, your insane elf won't let me near it till you blow out the candles.”

Severus gestured to house and said, “You should go.”

Frustrated by the interruption, Harry hesitated; he needed to talk to Snape, but knew Gabriel would come fetch him if he didn't answer soon. Harry turned half way, then turned back and asked hurriedly, “Will you stick around? I really want to talk to you…privately.”

Arching a brow, Severus inclined his head. “Very well, Potter.”

Potter gave him a blinding smile, then turned and called out, “I'm coming, Gabriel, damn you and your sweet tooth.”

Taking another drag, Severus watched Potter go back into the house; he was relieved the brat was no longer standing close enough to touch. Severus had no idea what Potter needed to discuss, but was willing to listen. Potter had never come to him with petty concerns.

Harry stood close to his birthday cake, chatting idly with Spencer, until he saw Snape slip quietly back into the room. Wrapping up his conversation, Harry approached the cake. Waiting until he'd caught Snape's eyes, he leaned forward with his lips pursed. Harry closed his eyes and blew out his candles. His wish was simple: I want my birthday kiss from Snape this year, and every year thereafter.

It was times like these that Severus regretted teaching Potter Occlumency. It was apparent the other man was trying to make a point, but Severus could not figure out what that was. If it had been anyone besides Potter, he would accuse them of flirting. But Potter would never flirt with him.

After the cake was cut and eaten, the party lasted another hour. Nervous about the upcoming conversation with Snape, Harry stood on the porch and distractedly waved goodbye to the group as they Apparated away.

He turned and walked back into the house. Snape was waiting for him in the living room. Not ready to start, Harry turned to the sidebar and poured a stiff drink, asking, “You want one?”

“Please.” Severus sat in the armchair before the fire and leaned back. It had been a long day; he was tired, but unwilling to forgo the pleasure of Potter's company. No matter for how short a time.

Handing Snape his glass, Harry sat in the opposite armchair and sipped his drink. He didn't know where to begin; all of his past lovers had approached him. Harry had no idea how to express his interest. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I'd like to tell you…” he trailed off. That just sounds stupid, he thought. Trying again, Harry asked, “Would you consider…” He couldn't get the words out.

Surging to his feet, Harry paced restlessly. If I can't even tell him I'm interested, what chance of a relationship do I have? Harry thought morosely. Draining the last of his whiskey, Harry banished the glass thoughtlessly. Tugging absently at his hair, Harry got an idea. Actions speak louder than words; if I can't say it, maybe I can show it.

Seeing Potter's distress, Severus placed his glass on the side table and stood. He approached the younger man and took hold of a shoulder. Turning Potter around, he held both shoulders and advised, “Potter, take a deep breath, then just spit it out.”

Brilliant advice, Harry thought. Deciding to take it, Harry took a deep breath, tilted his head, and pressed his lips to Snape's. He felt Snape stiffen, but since he wasn't hexed outright, Harry pressed his advantage. He leaned in further, moving his lips against the surprisingly soft mouth of the other man. When he felt a response, Harry swept his tongue along the seam of Snape's mouth. He moaned when the lips parted and Snape's tongue met his.

Potter's moan brought reality crashing down around Severus. His grip tightened cruelly on the young man's shoulders for a moment. With tremendous willpower, he tore his mouth away from Potter's and shoved him away. Panting with a mixture of shock, lust and hurt, Severus demanded shakily, “What was that?”

His eyes still blazing with desire, Harry tried to put his whirling thoughts into order. “A kiss,” he said uncertainly. Snape had responded and Harry wasn't sure where this was going.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Severus snorted with disbelief. “I realize it was a kiss, Potter,” he spat. Turning and snatching up his glass, Severus drained it and very carefully set it back on the table. Keeping his back to Potter, he asked, “What I meant is, why?” In a soft weary voice he continued, “Why in Merlin's name would you desire to kiss a man such as myself?”
Harry had had a lot of personal experience with feelings of inadequacy, and he could hear similar feelings in Snape's words. Understanding now why Snape had stopped the kiss, Harry said gently, “Because I'm attracted to you.”

Unable to wrap his mind around the possibility that Potter might return his affections, Severus sat heavily in the armchair and stared blankly into the fire. For once Severus didn't know what to do. If all Potter felt was lust, did he have the strength to turn him down? And if it was something more, did he have the courage to accept it? All Severus knew for sure was that either way his heart was at risk.

When Snape didn't say anything, Harry hoped the older man simply needed time to consider his offer. Carefully approaching Snape, Harry leaned over and brushed a chaste kiss across unyielding lips. “Please just think about it,” he asked gently. He turned to leave the room.

Stopping at the doorway, Harry added, “You are welcome to stay the night, or for as long as you like.”

August 1999

Severus did spend the night at Potter's house. In his own bed, unfortunately. He spent most of the night tossing and turning. Potter's offer and that awkward kiss kept him awake. Still unable to discern what he should do, Severus hoped the brat would leave the whole thing alone for a few days.

There was an Order meeting they needed to attend that morning; Severus instructed the neurotic house-elf to take coffee up to Potter. He didn't trust himself around a sleepy Potter; the temptation would be too much. Relieved that the brat had insisted he leave some clothes, he quickly pulled on a set of everyday robes; Severus needed the security they provided today.

He retreated to the front porch and hid behind the newspaper. Potter came out half an hour later, freshly showered and casually dressed. Severus surreptitiously looked over the top of the paper; the brat was in close-fitting jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.

As he dropped onto the swing, Harry quickly looked over Snape. He could sense all the man's prickly barriers were at full strength today. Guess I rattled him last night, Harry thought with satisfaction. He was quite serious about his interest in the older man, so he was willing to give Snape some space. Harry wasn't sure how long he could wait but there was no chance in hell he was giving up on Snape.

“Morning,” Harry offered mildly.

Severus lowered his paper; Potter was carelessly sprawled on the swing, sipping a cup of coffee. There was nothing in his posture or expression that hinted at what he'd started last night. Relieved it appeared he was being given his space, Severus nodded. “There is an Order meeting this morning we should attend,” he said curtly.

“When do we need to leave?”

“It starts in an hour. Dumbledore has some information to share,” Severus drawled snidely.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Harry said, “Good, I need your advice.”

Severus eyed the brat warily. “On what subject?”

“How do I go about taking my Mastery tests?”

Severus was relieved that Potter honestly needed advice. The two men spent the next hour harmoniously discussing Masteries and other assorted topics.

Harry and Severus Apparated into a deserted alley around the corner from Headquarters. They made the short walk to their destination in silence. When the pair reached the front door, Harry turned the knob, but the door wouldn't open. He looked up questioningly at Snape.

“Albus refashioned the wards,” Severus explained. “You have to be admitted by someone inside.”

Glaring at the door, Harry looked at the serpent knocker. “The hell I do, it's my bloody house,” he growled. “The head of the Black family demands entrance,” he hissed in Parseltongue as he laid his palm on the door.

Severus watched in admiration as Potter circumvented the headmaster's wards. The door opened with a quiet click of the lock. His arousal at hearing Parseltongue didn't distract Severus from anticipating Dumbledore's reaction when they walked in unannounced.

Walking silently to avoid waking Mrs. Black, Harry and Snape crossed the hall and went down to the kitchen. Outside the door Snape grabbed his companion's shoulder and kept him from entering. They listened to the chatter in the room for a moment.

“It appears no one has been informed of the reason behind today's meeting,” Severus said quietly after listening to the conversations in the other room.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Shall we make our entrance?”

Severus smirked and drawled, “You may make the dramatic entrance today, Potter. I shall slip in unobserved.”

Giving Snape a mock bow, Harry stepped out of the way and watched Snape slip artfully into the room. After a moment, Harry stepped into the doorway and waited for someone to notice him. It didn't take long; in less than a minute, Molly Weasley spotted him and called out, “Harry!” He was enveloped in a warm hug. Pleased to see her again, Harry squeezed Mrs. Weasley back.

“It's good to see you again, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said once he was released.

Tutting as she patted his long unbound hair, Molly said firmly, “Now no more Mrs. from you, young man. You're to call me Molly.”

Harry smiled in answer. The others in the room had gathered around while he'd been talking to Molly, and there was a jumble of questions all called out at once. Harry tried to sort them out, but he was uneasy at being surrounded. He shot a desperate look at Snape.

Glaring at the undisciplined horde, Severus snapped, “If you featherbrained idiots would give the brat some space, perhaps he would answer your undoubtedly asinine questions.”

From his seat at the table, Dumbledore gave Severus a reproachful look. But he did speak up. “Please, allow Harry to have a seat.”

The crowd around him parted and Harry made his way to Snape's side. The older man had positioned himself with a view of the door and everyone in the room. It seemed spying instilled the same paranoia that warrior training did. “I'll stand, thanks,” Harry said.

“Very well, let us begin,” Dumbledore stated. “Does anyone have any questions before I explain why I called you here today?”

Moody thumped his fist on the table. “Why's Potter here? He's not a member.”

“I requested Harry's presence today to rectify that matter, Alastor,” Dumbledore said firmly.

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry locked eyes with the headmaster. “I won't be joining the Order,” he said softly.

The room exploded into chaos as people jumped up and demanded to know why. Harry simply stood and let it wash over him. Glancing over at Snape, he caught the smugly amused twitch of the other man's lips.

After a few minutes of bedlam, Dumbledore lifted his wand; sparks and a bang followed. It was sufficient to quiet the crowd. The headmaster's frown eventually got everyone back into their seats. Turning to Harry with a flustered look, Dumbledore asked sadly, “My dear boy, why won't you join us? Surely you wish to rid the world of the monster that murdered your parents?”

Harry had been prepared for the headmaster to use his parents' memory to gain his compliance. He straightened to his full height. “Headmaster, I'm afraid that while we have the same aims, our methods are too different.” Determination flared in his green eyes as Harry said fiercely, “I will not wait for the Death Eaters to make the first move. This war has dragged on for far too long.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “Harry, we cannot lower ourselves to their methods. We must act responsibly.”

“You just illustrated my point,” Harry said. “Our beliefs on the correct way to wage this war are too dissimilar for me to join the Order.”

Clambering loudly to his feet, Moody demanded gruffly, “Why are you here then, Potter?” Moody's magical eye seemingly tried to pin Harry to the wall, as he scowled angrily. “If you're planning to fight this war on your own and abandon us, why even show up?”

Severus stepped forward with a blistering set-down on the tip of his tongue, when Potter stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Seeing Snape visibly refrain from lambasting Moody, Harry let his eyes rest briefly on everyone present. “I never said I wouldn't assist if I could,” Harry started. “You are free to use the house as long as you like.” He looked at Dumbledore, who had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. Harry's permission to use Grimmauld Place had never been asked.

“But it would not be fair to anyone if I were to join and then find my loyalties divided,” Harry said steadily. He watched as the assembled group absorbed his comments. He knew someone would ask.

“Why would your loyalties be divided?” Hermione asked thoughtfully.

Harry quirked his lips ruefully; he should have known Hermione would be the one to ask. “My primary allegiance is to my family. The Bar Sinister. Plus there is the Fianna.”

“Just `cause you trained with the Fianna doesn't mean you owe them anything,” Ron blurted. At the same time Molly sobbed, “We're your family, Harry.”

Desperate to stop Molly from crying more, and hoping to make her feel better, Harry crossed the room and knelt beside her. He took her hand and said intently, “Molly, I'm proud that you would feel that way. I never meant to make you feel like I don't love and appreciate you.”

Mrs. Weasley pulled a large handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. Patting Harry's cheek, she said tearily, “You've been one of my boys since Ron brought you to me.”

He held Molly's eyes. “I need you to understand. The Bar accepts me unconditionally, and the connection I have with them is important to me.”

“Just don't you forget about us, Harry Potter,” she demanded.

Smiling at her warmly, Harry promised, “Never.”

Standing and rejoining Snape, Harry caught Ron's eye. He could read the other man's hunger for recognition and sighed. Ron would never change; he still wanted what Harry had.

Determined to put an end to any speculation, Harry stated unequivocally, “I did not simply train with the Fianna.” Turning to the headmaster, Harry held the old man's eyes. “I am a Fiannan warrior.”

Dumbledore blinked once, and then lowered his head. “The Fianna plan to rejoin society?” he asked warily.

Harry smirked mischievously. “When the time is right,” he said enigmatically.

The headmaster sat back in his chair and stroked his beard, seemingly lost in thought. Ron still looked agitated. “What's so bloody special about the Fianna? Are they like those Muggle `Stupor-Heroes?'”

“Super-Heroes, Ron,” Hermione hissed.

“The Weasley boy is right,” Moody said. “What's so important about being trained by a bunch of foreign wizards?”

There were several nods of agreement from around the table. Severus rolled his eyes at the stupidity surrounding him. “It is a rare honor to be asked to join the Fianna,” he snapped. “You ineffectual cretins wouldn't last a day with them.”

“Now, Severus, not all of us have your extensive knowledge of the Fianna,” Shackelbolt began reasonably. He turned to Harry and asked, “Perhaps you would be willing to tell us a little about your training?”

Everyone seemed to be looking at him with avid interest. Harry nodded and said, “I can't go into a lot, the Fianna are very protective of their methods.”

“That's quite all right, dear, just tell us what you can,” Molly said reassuringly. She glared at those members that seemed close to protesting. Seemingly assured that no one would interrupt, she gestured for Harry to continue.

Leaning against the wall, Harry took a breath and started. “I can tell you the three tests I had to pass to be considered a full warrior. That should give you an idea of what a Fiannan warrior is capable of.”

He chuckled when Hermione pulled out a pen and piece of parchment. Hermione shrugged and said, “There's not a lot written about them.”

“First, they buried me to the waist and gave me a shield. Then I had to fend off nine warriors, without sustaining an injury,” Harry said lightly. He ignored the gasps and continued, “Then they did all these little braids in my hair and chased me through the forest. If one of the braids was disturbed I would have failed.”

He grinned. “Then there's my favorites, jumping over a branch as high as my forehead, ducking under one at my knees and pulling a thorn from my foot. All to be done at a full run and never slacking my pace.” He rolled his eyes at the disbelieving faces. When the Captain of the Fianna first told him the tests, he'd thought they were impossible too.

Ron's face had turned red. “It can't be done,” he objected hotly.

Harry eyed him coldly, and stated emphatically, “It can. I've done it.”

“Prove it,” Ron demanded.

He pushed off the wall and turned to Snape. “Hold a pole out for me?”

“Not Snape,” Moody growled. “Can't trust him not to pull a fast one if you asked it of him. Everyone knows he's your lapdog.” The murmured agreements spiked Harry's temper even more than Moody's offensive words.

He took a step forward, and Snape grabbed his shoulder. Harry turned around and opened his mouth to speak.

“Let Lupin do it,” Severus said softly, before Potter could speak. He was pleased Potter would stand up for him, but now was not the place.

His brow furrowed in confusion, Harry started, “I won't let him talk about…”

Severus smirked. “Potter, he will never change his opinion of me. It does not concern me. Let it go.”

He hated it when people talked about Snape like that; Harry was determined to defend Snape. “But you wouldn't do that,” he said steadfastly.

Smiling wickedly, Severus leaned down and whispered, “But I would, Harry.” He turned Potter around and gave him a small push towards the werewolf. “Let Lupin do it,” he insisted.

Harry threw a calculating look at Snape, and then turned to the group gathered to watch him. Grinning widely, the twins cleared a space for Harry's performance. Someone found an old curtain rod and handed it to Remus.

Harry glared at the witches and wizards surrounding him. “I trust Remus is acceptable,” he said coldly.

He ignored the affronted murmurs and quickly conferred with Remus. After insuring the other man knew what needed to be done, Harry took a couple of steps back. When Remus held out the rod level with his forehead, Harry breathed deeply and crouched down. He took two running steps and bound over the bar. Then he immediately followed up with a back flip over the bar.

Pushing his hair off his face, Harry turned to the group. “There's not enough room for further demonstrations, so that will have to suffice.” Brushing off the awestruck comments, Harry returned to Snape's side. Snape sneered at him and said, “I see it's your day for dramatics.”

“Shut up, git,” Harry growled. He didn't like being the center of attention, but he wouldn't allow the Order to doubt the prowess of the Fianna.

Harry was aware that Dumbledore had watched his little display. He'd even seen the headmaster's shrewd look when he'd landed the second time. He turned to the still silent headmaster and asked, “Headmaster, can we continue this meeting?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and everyone found their seats. “I have distressing news,” he began. “Two weeks ago, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback escaped from Azkaban.”

There were anxious questions, but with everyone talking at once no one could be heard. Harry rolled his eyes when Severus bellowed, “Silence.” Harry spoke into the resulting quiet. “How did they get out?”

He was trying to control his temper. Harry wanted to know what had happened. He was already aware of the incompetence of the Ministry, but to withhold the information from the public for two weeks was a new low, even for them.

Dumbledore shifted in his chair so he could face Harry. “It appears that Lucius bribed one of the guards to release him. Once free, Lucius stole a wand and killed the guard. He then freed Bellatrix and Fenrir.”

“Since the dementors revolted, they have the rejects of the Auror Corp guarding Azkaban,” Kingsley said contemptuously.

“Why is Fudge keeping it from the public?” Molly demanded. Harry nodded in agreement; he was very interested in the answer.

Dumbledore leaned over and patted Molly's hand soothingly. “We did not wish to start a panic.”

His head shot up, and Harry narrowed his eyes. “Headmaster,” he started in a deceptively soft voice. “How long have you known this?”

“Minister Fudge informed me the day it happened, my boy,” Dumbledore said mildly.

Harry never got the chance to speak. Snape turned on the headmaster with a vicious glare. Harry leaned back to enjoy the show.

“Have you gone mad?” Severus spat. “The Death Eaters would like nothing better than to avenge the Dark Lord with the death of Potter and myself.”

Severus stalked closer to Dumbledore, rage evident in every line of his body. “You irresponsible old fool, we should have been informed immediately,” Severus snarled.

Harry refrained from laughing when it became apparent that no one was going to interfere with Snape. He couldn't tell if it was fear of the former Death Eater or anger at Dumbledore's continual withholding of crucial information. Harry settled comfortably against the wall and waited for the headmaster to answer.

Looking faintly nervous, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Severus, I only waited to gather the details.” He added more confidently, “You were quite safe at Hogwarts.”

Harry snorted contemptuously and drawled, “Didn't you mention a visit to Diagon Alley a couple of days ago, Severus?”

“Yes, I did visit the apothecary,” Severus spat. Glaring at the headmaster, he demanded, “Come now, Albus, surely you can do better than that.”

Though he paled, Dumbledore repeated firmly, “You were safe, my word as a wizard.”

Knowing Albus as he did, Severus knew he'd get nothing further from the old man. Reining in his temper, Severus glared coldly at the headmaster. He scornfully turned his back on the old fool, and returned to Potter's side. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his raging emotions. He was furious that Albus had withheld information vital to his and Potter's wellbeing, and, surprisingly, he was hurt that the headmaster seemed to distrust him to such a degree. Once again, Severus buried his reactions under his customary sneering façade and turned back to the meeting. He fooled everyone, except Potter.

Having learned to read the enigmatic man, Harry keenly felt Snape's distress. Careful to ensure that Snape's voluminous robes hid his action, Harry slipped his hand into the older man's. He squeezed softly in sympathy. Not wanting to pressure Snape to accept anything more than the understanding he was offering, Harry attempted to pull his hand back. He was surprised when Snape gripped his hand tightly and refused to let go. Perfectly willing to leave his hand where it was, Harry laced his fingers with Snape's.

Feeling immoderately content, Severus held Potter's hand for the remainder of the meeting. He was absurdly grateful that for once someone was there for him. Potter understood his demons and accepted them. The brat would have defended him against Moody's accurate accusations had Severus allowed it.

The longer he was around Potter, the more he was inclined to accept Potter's offer. Severus was appalled to discover the possibility of a meaningful relationship with Potter terrified him. If it ended badly, and Severus had no expectations of it ending any other way, it would destroy him. But he doubted he had the strength to reject Potter and in doing so, one of his deeply held dreams.

As the headmaster approached them at the end of the meeting, Severus tightened his grip and then reluctantly released Potter's hand. Dumbledore asked in a wary tone, “Severus, I would like to speak with you regarding the repairs to the Slytherin common room.”

Nodding at the headmaster, Severus turned to speak to Potter. “If you will wait, we can travel to Sinister Place together,” he said. He had confidence Potter would understand his vague statement.

Harry did understand. Snape obviously felt the Bar needed to be informed about the newest complications. Nodding his agreement, Harry asked, “How long will you be?”

“Not more than an hour,” Severus replied.

“Okay, I'll be in the sitting room.” After saying his goodbyes, Harry left the kitchen.

Relieved to find the sitting room empty, Harry adjusted the throw pillows and stretched out on the lumpy couch. The strain of long distance Apparition and the late night had left him tired. Knowing he had another long night ahead of him, Harry decided a nap was just the thing. Staring up at the ceiling, Harry thought ruefully, after nine months with the Fianna I could sleep anywhere. Slipping the dagger from his boot, Harry tucked it under a pillow and closed his eyes.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he felt another presence in the room. When a hand touched his shoulder, Harry whipped the dagger from under the pillow and pressed it to the intruder's throat.

“Harry,” Ron stuttered.

Removing the dagger from Ron's neck, Harry sat up and sleepily rubbed his face. “You shouldn't touch me while I'm sleeping,” Harry said as he replaced the dagger.

Looking up, he caught a glimpse of fear in Ron's eyes. Shaking his head sadly, Harry said softly, “I wouldn't have hurt you.”

Ron's face flushed and he looked away. “You just held a bloody knife to my throat, Harry. What am I supposed to think?”

While he wasn't as close to Ron as they had been, Harry didn't want him to fear him. Harry enjoyed Ron's uncomplicated nature and didn't want to lose the last vestige of their friendship. So he tried to explain. “My trainers would attack us at all hours.” Seeing Ron was listening, he continued, “They wanted us to always be aware of our surroundings and be able to respond even if we were asleep.”

Harry stood and paced restlessly. After a few tense moments, Ron asked tentatively, “But how do you keep from hurting someone before you wake?”

“Practice. Lots and lots of practice,” Harry admitted with a wry grin. “All of my weapons were dulled until I got the hang of it.”

He was relieved when Ron laughed. The laugh sounded a little forced, but Harry appreciated that Ron was trying. Now that the tension was gone, Harry asked, “Why did you wake me?”

Ron grinned. “Wanted to know if you'd come with Hermione and me to the Leaky for lunch,” the redhead asked.

“Wish I could, mate,” Harry said regretfully. “But I've got to meet the Bar later.”

“You've been gone for nine months, surely you can spare a couple of hours for your friends?” Ron demanded incredulously.

Harry dropped on the couch. “I can't,” he said firmly. “It's important I talk to them soon.”

Sitting in a chair across from him, Ron asked disbelievingly, “You just saw them last night, what could be so important that you have to go back now?”

Harry arched a brow and looked at the other man skeptically; he knew Ron wasn't that stupid.

Ron ducked his head to hide the flush on his cheeks. “I guess you want to tell them about the escape,” he muttered.

“They need to know,” Harry said. “And we need to make plans.”

Looking at Harry disapprovingly, Ron groused, “You've changed.” He stood and walked to the door. Pausing at the doorway, Ron turned back. “When you stop hanging out with dark wizards, I hope you'll still have friends left,” he said bitterly.

Harry's heart ached as he watched Ron stalk out of the room. He wasn't sure what pained him more, that Ron thought the Bar was dark or that he was losing his links to the past. It hurt that Ron didn't understand him; it hurt even worse that he didn't try. Shaking off his melancholy thoughts, Harry went to find Snape. It was past time to leave.

From across the table, Severus eyed the headmaster warily. They had finished the necessary discussion on the common room repairs, and Severus feared one of Albus' heart-to-hearts.

He barely repressed a sneer when Albus said, “I realize you're angry, my boy.”

When Severus said nothing, Dumbledore sighed heavily. “I would not let harm come to you,” he said earnestly.

Severus snorted derisively and glared at the old man.

“You were in no danger,” Dumbledore stated firmly.

“No danger?” Severus sneered. “Three homicidal idiots who would like nothing better than my, preferably painful, death escape,” he drawled. “And you dare to claim there is no danger?”

When Dumbledore tried to respond, Severus waved off any protests. “It matters not,” he said bitterly. “I know my value to you perfectly well, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly and leaned forward in his seat. “I need you more than ever, Severus.”

“In what manner?” Severus asked cautiously.

With a calculating eye, Dumbledore scrutinized him for a long moment. Seeming to make up his mind, Albus sat back and said carefully, “Harry has become very powerful.”

Inclining his head in agreement, Severus kept a watchful eye on the old man. When he caught a glimpse of Potter in the doorway, Severus' expression never changed. He hoped the brat had enough control to keep from interfering if this conversation headed in the direction he feared it would.

“He has made several distressing decisions recently,” Dumbledore said. “His refusal to join the Order concerns me.”

Casually crossing his legs, Severus drawled, “How does this pertain to me?”

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, Dumbledore admitted, “Harry still doesn't trust me.” With a shrewd gleam in his eye, he said, “I was hoping that you could keep me informed of his undertakings.”

“You wish me to spy on Potter?” Severus asked blandly. He risked a quick glance at Potter. The young man's eyes blazed with fury. He was relieved to note, however, that Potter held his position.

“I wish to be informed of Harry's actions,” Dumbledore admitted. “I fear the boy will act rashly, and spoil the Order's plans with his quest for independence.”

Albus was still trying to control Potter; Severus doubted the old man would ever stop his manipulations. However, he would have to do it without Severus. Rising to his feet, Severus sneered. “Potter is not a boy. He is a powerful wizard.”

Walking to the doorway, Severus watched with dark delight as Albus turned and paled at the realization of who stood there. Urging Potter into the hall, Severus spoke quietly, “Do not ask me to divide my loyalty again, Albus. I guarantee you will not like the answer.”

Sinister Place

August 1999

Harry and Severus arrived at Sinister Place in time for lunch. Over hot sandwiches and chips, they filled in the Bar on what had occurred at the Order meeting. Neither Severus nor Harry made reference to the incident with Dumbledore. The group made preliminary plans for dealing with the escaped Death Eaters, but such things would have to wait until they had more information.

After lunch, Vane and Spencer headed off to see if they could dig up any clues as to the Death Eaters' whereabouts. Gabriel said he had an appointment, but made Harry promise to meet him in the training room in an hour. Sebastian went to the Ministry to find out what he could on the details of the escape, while Severus joined Devlin and Luc in the study for further discussion about the situation.

Several hours later, Severus left the study and headed to his room to change for dinner. Passing Potter's room, he heard a pained groan. He knocked softly and heard Potter call, “It's open.”

Entering the room, Severus found a half-naked Potter trying to dry his dripping hair. Frowning, Severus demanded, “What is wrong with you?”

Disgusted, Harry let the towel drop. He sat on the side of the bed and said, “Gabriel had me fight three idiots that want to duel him. Said if the guys could beat me, he'd duel them.” Raising his hand to shove the wet hair out of his face, he groaned. “Apparently in formal duels you can't stretch beforehand.”

Approaching the bed, Severus asked dryly, “Who won?”

“I did,” Harry said with a smirk. After a moment he admitted, “Not sure it was worth it now.”

Pulling his wand, Severus quietly cast a drying charm on Potter's hair. “You are a wizard, brat,” he muttered, reaching for the comb on the bedside table. Potter simply shrugged. When Severus ran the comb through Potter's hair, the younger man sighed and relaxed, evidently enjoying the attention.

Severus managed to comb out all of the tangles without giving in to the urge to bury his face in the silky locks. Setting the comb aside, he silently summoned a muscle relaxant from his room. Catching the bottle, he stood and said gruffly, “Lay on your stomach. This potion has to be rubbed in for the best effect.”

Harry slowly stretched out on his stomach. At the first touch of the slick hands on his fingers, he gasped. Snape found every sore spot in his hand and arm and ruthlessly worked the tension out. When he finished the first arm, Snape climbed on the bed and did the same to Harry's other arm. Then Snape started on his back, and Harry bit his lip to stop the half pained, half pleasured moan that rose in his throat.

Severus was kneeling beside Potter on the bed, but could not get the proper angle to work out the knots. He hesitated for a moment, and then straddled the young man's hips. Not a good idea, Severus moaned inwardly, as his cock brushed Potter's very tempting and firm arse.

Trying to concentrate on working the kinks out of the brat's back, Severus clamped down on his wayward libido. Pouring more of the golden potion onto his palm, he let it warm, then carefully rubbed it on Potter's back. He knew he was prolonging this massage for his own pleasure. But since Potter wasn't complaining, Severus took the opportunity to stroke the younger man's skin. He lingered on the strong shoulders and tentatively allowed his aching erection to rest against Potter's arse.

As the tension drained from his body, Harry closed his eyes. Strong thumbs were sliding up either side of his spine. Warm hands wrapped around his shoulders, firmly kneading till the tightness melted away. Drifting pleasantly in that soft, shadowy place on the edge of sleep, he felt Snape's hard cock nestle against the cleft of his arse. So he is interested, Harry thought sleepily. Unable to hold on to consciousness any longer, he smiled softly and fell asleep.

When Potter didn't throw him off at the first sign of arousal, Severus felt more confident. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the exposed nape of Potter's neck. There was no response. Brow furrowed, Severus stopped the massage and looked down. He snorted in self-deprecating humor when he realized the brat had fallen asleep.

Shaking his head, Severus climbed off the bed and pulled the blankets over Potter. He smirked, and dropped a gentle kiss on the exasperating brat's forehead. With one last glance at the sleeping man, Severus chuckled dryly and left the room.

After quickly changing his clothes, Severus found Gabriel in the study in conversation with Devlin and Luc. “What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Gabriel?” he demanded roughly.

Gabriel looked up in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Why would you have Potter screen your dueling partners?” Severus crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an answer.

Grinning widely, Gabriel said, “He wasn't screening anyone. Harry passed his Mastery in blades.”

Devlin snorted. “I take it you forgot to inform Harry of what he was doing?” he asked with a raised brow.

With a sheepish shrug, Gabriel admitted, “Might have forgot to mention that to him.” After a moment he asked, “Is he okay? I remember after my test I hurt for days.”

Severus smirked. “If you had let me know at the time I could have given you something to ease the pain.” With a sigh, he said, “Potter will be fine. You will, however, need to push dinner back an hour. He is sleeping now.”

“Excuse me, I have something to attend to,” Luc said vaguely. With a last glance at Severus he left the room.

Ignoring Luc − the man had always been secretive, − Severus discreetly pumped Gabriel for more details about Potter's performance at the test. “And is the brat passable with the sword now?”

“Oh, he's a demon with the sword,” Gabriel said archly. With a smirk, he casually mentioned, “Perhaps you and Harry should have a go with knives, Devlin.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Devlin arched a brow. “Really, the brat is in my league?”

Severus choked back an amused snort when Gabriel smiled mischievously and drawled, “He surpassed you a year ago, but you'll do for target practice.”

A few minutes later Severus excused himself discreetly and went to check on the brat.

Rounding the top of the stairs, Severus was mildly surprised to see Potter's door ajar. Thought I closed that, he puzzled. His painfully honed instinct urged caution, so he quietly crept to the door. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, Severus peered into the room. The tableau in Potter's room left him reeling with shock, betrayal and soul-deep rage.

Luc was reclined in Potter's bed, quite nude. He stroked a hand through Potter's hair. The dark haired man gave a gentle `hmm' and shifted closer. Severus felt as if someone had tightened an iron band around his chest, squeezing his heart unmercifully. Unable to continue bearing witness to the shattering of his dreams, he walked away as quietly as he'd arrived.

Once downstairs, he strode blindly down the hallway. His only thought was making it to the potions lab. He ignored Devlin's concerned questions and slammed the lab door behind him. He absently cast a locking charm on the door and grabbed a copy of Moste Potent Potions. His only clear thought was the revenge brewing darkly in his mangled heart.

As he sliced brindled caterpillars, Severus brooded over his lost dream. Harry Potter is mine, he thought fiercely. He pushed aside his previous doubts about having a relationship with the brat. Luc can never be what Harry needs. I may be a bitter, mercenary ex-Death Eater, but at least I am capable of fidelity. The brat would never have to wonder who is warming my bed when he's absent.

Briskly tossing the finely diced caterpillars into the bicorn and newt base, Severus stirred with absentminded precision. He would do whatever it took to win Potter's affection. The desire is there; I will capitalize on that and bind the brat to me with passion. Once he's by my side, surely I can devise a means of keeping him, he thought grimly. But first to get rid of Luc.

Harry was dreaming of Severus when he felt a long fingered hand in his hair. He'd always felt safe at Sinister Place, so he was reluctant to relinquish his dream. Sighing softly, he tried to get closer to the stroking fingers. The hand cupped his cheek, and Harry drew in a contented breath.

He dreamily noticed the spicy aftershave clinging to his companion. Spicy? his drowsy mind questioned. Furrowing his brow, Harry tired to chase down what was wrong. Snape smells like the forbidden forest at night, shadowy trees, hidden camp fires and illicit ingredients.

Harry abruptly opened his eyes. Spying the blonde locks of his bed partner, he rolled off the bed, legs tangling in the sheets in his haste. From his position on the floor he stared at Luc in befuddlement. “What…” he tired to force his mind to wakefulness.

Luc chuckled. “I didn't mean to startle you,” he said softly. With a leer, he drawled lazily, “Come back to bed, Harry.”

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry carefully tucked the sheet around his waist. “Why are you here?” he asked in confusion.

Luc nonchalantly stroked his erect cock and raised an eyebrow. “Come now, the time for coy games is past, Harry.”

Growing more confused by the minute, Harry glared. “What in the bloody hell are you going on about?” he demanded. Steadfastly keeping his eyes on Luc's face, he added, “And what possessed you to crawl naked into my bed?”

Pouting prettily, Luc said, “I want you. And I know you want me.”

Reflexively tightening the sheet preserving his modesty, Harry groaned. He knew he shouldn't have put off that talk with Luc. Without a direct refusal, the other man had obviously decided Harry would be receptive to his advances. “Look, you're very attractive…” Harry began, wanting to let Luc down gently.

“So are you,” Luc said waggling his brows suggestively.

“But I don't want to bed you,” Harry said firmly. Glancing around the room, he spied Luc's clothes folded neatly on a chair.

Sitting up in the bed, Luc asked incredulously, “You're turning me down?”

Harry was unsure of what to say for a moment; Luc left the bed and stalked towards him. Quickly gathering the older man's clothes, Harry hastily handed them to Luc. “I don't think of you like that,” he said gently as he opened the door.

He ushered Luc out. Biting back the impulse to simply slam the door shut, Harry added, “Thanks for the offer.”

“You're turning me down?” Luc repeated slowly, clearly disbelieving what he was hearing.

So intent on getting Luc out of his room, Harry didn't noticed Devlin standing at the top of the stairs. He looked at Luc and gently pushed the blonde fully into the hallway. “Yes, I am,” he said. With that, Harry closed the door.

He heard Luc walk away, muttering, “I can't believe he turned me down. No one's ever turned me down.”

Dropping his forehead to the door, Harry laughed. Only Luc would think everyone wanted him. Relieved that the uncomfortable scene was over, Harry quickly threw on some clothes, vowing to make sure he locked his door from now on.

Severus ignored the insistent pounding at the door. He grimly tossed the chopped aconite into the gently simmering cauldron. Hearing someone enter the room, Severus glared as Devlin strode in nonchalantly. “The door was locked for a reason,” he spat. “I have no desire for company.”

Devlin merely shrugged and effortlessly hauled himself onto a work table. “You'll need a stronger locking charm to keep me out,” he said mildly.

“I mistakenly believed you would respect my wish to be left alone,” Severus said with a sneer.

Ignoring Severus' comment, Devlin crossed his ankles and leaned back. “I just overheard a very interesting conversation.”

Pointedly turning back to the cauldron, Severus picked up the stirring rod and continued with his potion.

“Between Harry and Luc,” Devlin said smoothly.

The metal stirring rod clanging roughly on the lip of the cauldron was Severus' only outward reaction. Inwardly he seethed. How dare he rub my nose in the situation? He did not deign to respond to the obvious jibe.

Changing the subject, Devlin asked, “What are you brewing?”

Barely restrained rage flared in Severus' black eyes. With a sinister smile, he drawled, “A very strong impotence elixir.”

Devlin paled and reflexively covered his groin. Quickly recovering his usual collected demeanor, he drawled, “And who exactly is that intended for?”

Severus arched a haughty brow and refused to answer. He spelled the flames higher, and waited impatiently for the potion to boil. He deliberately ignored Devlin as the other man hopped down and paced the room.

“Why was it I came in here?” Devlin mused aloud as he tapped his temple with a finger. After a moment he said, “Ah, that's right, the interesting conversation.”

Severus glared at the purple liquid, but kept silent.

Passing behind Severus, Devlin drawled, “There I was, walking up the stairs in my own house, when I heard voices.”

With a sly glance at Severus' rigid back, he continued, “It was obviously an intense discussion, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.”

Growling low in his throat, Severus shot Devlin a frigid glare. Turning resolutely back to his potion, he tried to block out the other man's words.

“I reached the top of the stairs, and what should I discover...” Devlin had rounded the table and was standing directly in front of Severus. He leaned down until he caught Severus' eyes. “…but Harry Potter pushing Luc from his room, saying he wasn't interested,” he finished softly.

Severus sucked in a shocked breath. He searched Devlin's eyes, and saw the truth in the pale green depths. He shakily cast a containment charm over the potion and braced his hands on the work bench. His head dropped as the implications of Devlin's words sank in. Potter hadn't betrayed him after all.

When Harry sat down for dinner, he made sure to keep away from Luc. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't sit near Snape either. The irritating man had sat across from Luc. With an aggrieved sigh, Harry made do with Snape-watching during dinner.

Snape was acting strange. The man barely ate; instead, he spent his time glaring darkly at his plate or eyeing Luc's wine glass. He also ignored all attempts at conversation. Harry half listened to Vane as he pondered Snape's behavior.

After dinner, everyone adjourned to the study. Harry tried to go to Snape, but was cornered by Gabriel. With one last glance at the older man brooding into the fire, Harry gave in and turned his attention to Gabriel.

Severus was watching Potter from the corner of his eye. He'd seen the brat heading his way, and was ambivalent about Gabriel's intervention. He wanted to talk to Potter, but wasn't sure what to say. He blindly sipped at the scotch he'd poured, when he heard Potter exclaim, “You did what?”

“Gabriel told Harry about the test, I see,” Devlin said from behind him. Severus had been so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn't heard the other man approach. Potter was gesturing wildly as he held a heated discussion with Gabriel.

Severus turned to Devlin with a weary sigh. “How long have you known?”

Devlin didn't pretend to misunderstand. “About your feelings, a couple of years,” he admitted. “I was made aware of Harry's six months ago,” he added vaguely.

Raising a questioning brow, Severus demanded, “How would you know Potter's feelings?”

“Harry's been writing me,” Devlin said with a shrug. When Severus glared at him, he chuckled, but explained. “I think he sees me as something of an older brother. He wrote of his feelings for you several times.”

Abandoning all attempts at discretion, Severus asked, “And his feelings for me are?”

“Something you'll have to discover for yourself,” Devlin said with a grin. He slapped Severus on the shoulder and walked away.

Harry sat slumped against the wall in the training room at Sinister Place. He threw his dagger at a target and summoned it back, only to do it over again. It had been a crappy day. First there was the Order meeting and Dumbledore asking Snape to spy on him. Then he'd dealt with Gabriel's ridiculous request that he take on three opponents at once. Okay, Snape giving him a massage had been a good thing − a very good thing − but that led to the whole Luc fiasco. And to top off his day, Gabriel dropped the bombshell about his blade Mastery and Snape was avoiding him.

Frustrated, Harry flung his dagger at the target, burying it to the hilt. With a muttered curse, he climbed to his feet and made his way to the target. He pulled the knife free and checked it for damage. Relieved that he hadn't nicked the blade in his fit of temper, Harry slipped it back into his boot. Giving up his fruitless attempt at brooding, he headed up to his room.

Once there, he locked the door with the strongest locking charm he knew. For good measure he added a ward to alert him to anyone crossing the threshold. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. Setting them aside, he made quick work of his robes and shirt, leaving him in only a pair of brown suede trousers.

He went to Saoirse's box and let her slither up to rest around his wrist and forearm. He dropped onto the bed and began talking. He knew it was silly to pour his troubles out to a snake, but she couldn't tell anyone that Harry was wallowing in self-pity. And he had no desire for human company unless it was…

There was a demanding knock at the door. “Go away,” Harry called out crossly.

“Potter, open this door.”

...Snape. The only person in the house he would consider talking to. Harry jumped to his feet and waved his hand, unlocking the door. As it opened, he nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Snape walked in and Harry hurried to ask, “Would you like a drink?” He was desperate to keep Snape from leaving immediately.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Potter's state of undress. “Yes, thank you. I wish to discuss several things with you.” He made his way to the armchairs before the fire and sat down. Potter poured them both a glass of scotch and walked over. “How is your back?” Severus asked.

Grinning, Harry lifted both glasses over his head to demonstrate the improvement. “Much better, thanks.”

Severus tried to ignore the rippling expanse of muscles Potter's action highlighted. The motion caused the brat's trousers to ride even lower, exposing a glimpse of golden skin and the top of a black brand. His hands shot out and clasped Potter's hips. Severus pulled the leather down one hip and uncovered an unfamiliar Celtic knot burned into Potter's creamy flesh.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded harshly. “You should know better than to allow yourself to be branded.” He was so intent on finding out why Potter had the mark that he missed the absolute stillness of the body he held.

Harry closed his eyes when he felt Snape's hands on his bare hip. Reining in the urge to arch into the touch, he said in a low voice, “Severus.” Snape ignored him and brushed a calloused thumb across his new tattoo. “Severus,” he warned tightly. “If you want to talk, you need to stop touching me. Now.” The older man was too close; it was all Harry could do not to toss the drinks and throw Snape to the floor.

Slowly raising his eyes, Severus noticed the muscles in Potter's flat stomach were tensed. When he reached the other man's eyes, he saw barely suppressed desire flaring brightly. He realized where his hands were, and felt Potter's erection pulse against his fingers. With a final, regretful brush of the soft skin, Severus let go and sat back heavily.

Drawing a shaking breath, Harry handed Snape a glass. Dropping into the chair, he hissed an apology to Saoirse for jostling her around. Not able to look at Snape yet, Harry took a large swallow of the potent liquor. The snake demanded to be put down, so he lowered her to the floor and sat back.

Between touching Potter and the brat hissing, Severus was having a difficult time controlling his obstinate passion for the young man. Resolutely reining in his emotions, he asked tightly, “Why the mark?”

Grinning wryly, Harry shrugged and said, “It just symbolizes attaining warrior status among the Fianna.”

“Have you learned nothing from my mistakes, Potter?” Severus demanded. “The things that can…”

Rolling his eyes, Harry broke in, “There's no magical properties to it.”

Severus glared. “And how would you know that?” he snarled.

Harry simply raised a brow and stared at Snape sagely.

“I suppose you are capable of discerning that on your own,” Severus allowed. He eyed the complacent brat shrewdly, then smirked. “Are you capable of joining a group without marking you body in remembrance?”

Propping his elbows on his knees, Harry smiled wickedly. “I don't have a tattoo commemorating my… association with you,” he drawled. “Yet.”

Severus took a sip of his scotch and let the innuendo go. Holding Potter's eyes, he asked, “What exactly is it you want from me, Potter? A casual fuck?”

“No,” Harry said intently. He let his desire for a meaningful relationship show in his eyes. “I wouldn't risk our friendship on something I could get from some anonymous stranger.” He took Snape's empty hand between both of his and willed the other man to believe him. “I want a partner; someone to stand by me no matter what. You are the strongest man I know; I want all of you, Severus, not just your body.”

Severus hardly dared to draw a breath lest Potter change his mind, and his mind whirled at the implications of Potter's words. Perhaps it wasn't simple physical attraction; he could scarcely believe that the other man wanted more. He had to speak before the brat changed his mind, or thought Severus was uninterested. “Your proposition has merit, Potter. I daresay we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement pertaining to a relationship.”

Harry dropped to his knees, still holding Snape's hand. He thought Snape had said yes, but was too impatient deal with the stilted words. “You're saying yes?” he asked quickly.

Severus disdainfully rolled his eyes, but nodded slowly. Barely managing to set aside his glass, Severus found himself with a lapful of Potter. The brat launched himself off the floor and straddled Severus' hips. Severus' hands automatically went to Potter's hips to steady him, as his mouth was taken in a devastating kiss.

Needing to slow the brat down, lest they both lost all semblance of control, Severus skimmed his palms up Potter's side. He slid one hand into soft hair and wrapped the other around a slender waist. Slowly parting his lips, Severus languidly suckled Potter's lower lip. He pulled the other man closer and gentled the kiss until they had to part for air. “I thought you wanted more than my body, Potter,” he panted.

Harry grinned. “I do, but I've wanted your body for quite some time now. Figured I might as well snog you now.” Trying for a leer, he added, “I wasn't going to fall to the floor and beg you to take me. Unless you like that idea.”

Severus ruthlessly bit back a moan at the image Potter's words provoked. “We will not be hastily jumping into bed, Potter,” he said. His cock, of course, did like the idea very much. But if there was the smallest chance of a serious commitment between them, Severus intended to seize it and nurture it to the best of his ability.

Harry was content to sit and hold Snape. The older man ran gentle fingers through his hair. Sighing with happiness, Harry snuggled closer. He knew Snape was thinking and did nothing to distract him.

Severus fought his reluctance to express his fears and feelings. Potter deserved to know what he was getting into. Severus had to clear his throat twice. “I'm not an easy man to be involved with, brat, and I fear that I am… incapable of sharing your… affections,” he said haltingly. “Be very sure of what you want before taking this further.”

Harry leaned back until he could hold Snape's eyes. “All I want is you,” he said softly. “I know who and what you are, Severus Snape, and you are all I need.”

He felt that band tighten around his chest again, but Severus no longer cared. His fingers tensed in Potter's hair, roughly pulling the brat down to kiss him. He poured all the things he couldn't say into the kiss, nipping lightly at Potter's lips and thrusting his tongue in for taste after taste.

Harry lost all track of time; Snape could have been kissing him for minutes or hours and Harry wouldn't know or care. Eventually he had to come up for air; resting his head on Snape's shoulder, Harry pressed a soft kiss to the exposed neck. “If you keep kissing me like that, I might rethink that falling to the floor plan,” Harry grumbled softly.

Snorting in amusement, Severus tugged a lock of Potter's hair. “Quiet, brat.” They sat for several minutes in comfortable silence. Severus gently ran a hand soothingly up and down Potter's back. After a while, he said, “Up with you.”

Harry reluctantly complied. Once he was back in his own chair, he picked up his discarded drink and took a sip. He looked over at Snape and saw the older man seemed lost in thought. Harry sighed. Even though Snape had agreed to give it a go, he had no illusion that any relationship with the stubborn prat would ever be easy. “What's wrong?” he asked quietly.

Staring at the flames, Severus organized his thoughts. “Potter, you need to be certain that this is what you want,” he began. “I will not share you with another. With you I will be inconceivably possessive.” He roughly scraped a stray lock of hair off his face. “Take tonight and consider if you can live with that. If you still feel the same tomorrow, we'll talk again.”

Harry watched as Snape got to his feet. The older man was halfway to the door when Harry said, “I'm going back to the house in the morning. Will you stay there with me?”

If he turned and faced Potter now, Severus was afraid he wouldn't be able to give the brat the time to reconsider. “Ask me again in the morning,” he said softly. Reaching the door, he opened it and turned back. “Think carefully, Potter. And consider this; if this ends badly, I will no doubt go back to hating you. I wouldn't be able to help it.” Without giving Potter a chance to respond, he left, closing the door with a quiet click.

Of Masteries and Meetings

Author's Notes:

Okay, ya'll be nice, it's my first sex scene.

August 1999

The stars shined brightly in the clear night sky. The moonlight cast fragile shadows in the gardens of Sinister Place. From his position stretched out on a bench, Harry's eyes traced a falling star across the sky. The green eyes closed and the young man made a wish. Let Severus understand what I'm offering.

“Aren't you too old to be wishing on stars?” Devlin drawled from the doorway.

Sitting up, Harry located Devlin in the low light. With a grin he said, “Need all the help I can get.”

Devlin strode over and joined Harry on the bench, passing him a glass of amber liquid. Harry took a sip. Mmm, brandy, he mused appreciatively. Glancing over at his companion, Harry asked, “Why are you out here so late?” Devlin raised an incredulous eyebrow. Harry squirmed in his place and hastened to add, “Not that you can't be out in your own garden, and I always enjoy your company.”

Letting the young man squirm for a long moment, Devlin sipped his drink. Harry was about to apologize when the older man finally spoke. “I saw you from my window and it seemed you were brooding.”

Harry rolled his eyes. That was Devlin's style; he rarely outright asked what the problem was, but instead tactfully offered his assistance in a manner that could be declined without loss of pride on either side. “I talked to Severus earlier.”

“Ah, I see,” Devlin said. “How did that go?”

Harry took another sip. “Well, he didn't hex me or refuse,” he said with a sigh.

“But he didn't agree either?” Devlin asked patiently.

Roughly scraping the hair out of his face, Harry thought quickly. I want some advice, but Snape would hate having his personal life discussed. But Devlin would never let on we'd even spoken. Deciding he needed all the help he could get, Harry explained. “He told me he's not nice, like I didn't already know that,” he said with a grin. “But then he kept saying he couldn't share me. Why in Merlin's name would he even think that?”

Devlin leaned forward and caught Harry's eyes. “Harry, he's considering a relationship with a man twenty years his junior,” Devlin started gently. “There is no way Severus will tolerate another relationship like the one he had with Luc. He's giving you an opportunity to back out if it seems you have a different outlook.”

Harry frowned. “I guess that's why he left and said he'd talk to me tomorrow.”

“You need to be certain of your decision for both your sakes. It wouldn't be fair to Severus if all you want is a temporary arrangement,” Devlin cautioned. “And I would hate to see you hurt.”

Draining his glass, Harry stood. “I get your point. But none of my feelings for Severus are casual.” As he walked back to the house, he called out, “Thanks.”

When he reached his room, Harry quickly stripped and slipped on his sleep pants. He dropped to the bed to think over what Devlin had said. In all the relationships he'd had, there had been a certain spark missing for Harry. But when he thought of Severus there wasn't a spark − it was more of a raging inferno. All heat and passion, and for a long while he'd feared that it would burn out. That was why he hadn't approached Snape earlier. Until lately, when I realized that sometimes the inferno dies down into a warm hearth fire. No, there was more than passion between them, and Harry was determined to pursue it.

Rolling over, Harry tired to sleep, but his mind wouldn't relax. “I don't want to wait till tomorrow,” he grumbled.

He heard the distant chimes of a clock announcing midnight, and grinned. He said to ask again in the morning, and technically it's morning now.

He scrambled out of bed and out of the room. On stealthy feet, Harry crept down the hall to Snape's room. Pressing his ear to the door, he couldn't hear any indication that Snape was awake. With a delighted grin, Harry silently inched the door open and eased into the room.

The moonlight pouring through the window provided enough light that Harry could avoid any obstacles. He paused at the foot of the bed and gazed appreciatively at the man on the bed. The midnight moon highlighted Snape's pale skin, and the only interruption to Harry's perusal was a pair of black silky looking boxers. Harry thought he'd never seen the other man look so sexy. Snape was on his back, one knee bent, covers shoved down around his ankles. One strong hand was splayed across a flat stomach, the other tucked beneath Snape's pillow. Probably holding his wand, Harry thought with a smile.

Fully aware that he might be hexed, Harry slipped onto the bed beside Snape. Slowly, he slid his hand beneath the one laying on the hard abs and intertwined his fingers with the sleep-lax ones. Leaning over till his mouth brushed Snape's ear, Harry whispered, “Severus.”

Severus woke the instant he felt someone touch his hand, but feigned sleep until he discovered who it was. He recognized Potter's voice and a tiny shiver went down his back when the brat's breath tickled his ear. Snapping his eyes open, he quickly judged the time, and snarled, “Why are you here?”

Rubbing his thumb across the back of Snape's hand, Harry grinned. “You said we'd talk in the morning. It's after midnight now.”

Squeezing until the hand in his stilled, Severus glared. “Potter, you were supposed to use the time to think…” he began.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Harry interrupted, “I've thought about you for months now. I know what I want. You.” A tendril of fear crept down his spine as Harry had a sudden thought. Pulling his hand free, he hesitantly said, “If you need time… I'll wait.”

A long moment passed and Snape didn't say anything. Harry drew a shaky breath and rolled over, preparing to leave. A hand shot out and grabbed his hip, pulling him back down. Snape was on his side, staring down at him.

Severus didn't need time, but he was having a difficult time believing that Potter had wanted him for months. “You're absolutely certain?” he asked. Wide eyed, Potter nodded. Severus released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He looked into Potter's green eyes and saw the truth. He moaned in defeat, and crushed his mouth against the younger man's. As soon as the lips under his parted, Severus thrust in his tongue and ran it over the lithe muscle he encountered. He'd done what his honor demanded and given Potter a chance to turn back. But the brat kept insisting this was what he wanted, and Severus could no longer resist.

His moan never made it past his throat, as Harry gave himself over to Snape's demanding kiss. He stroked whatever skin he could reach and did his best to press against the hard body beside him. Desperate for air, he pulled his head up and panted. Snape immediately latched onto his neck and nipped at the tendon, causing Harry to moan.

Feeling Potter give in allowed Severus enough control to gentle his touch. He wrapped both arms around the young man and pulled him close. Potter squirmed in his embrace, and Severus pulled back a little. He was surprised when young man quickly shucked his grey sleep pants. As soon as Potter freed his feet from the garment, calloused hands were at the waistband of Severus' boxers.

Chuckling softly at Potter's impatience, Severus lifted his hips to help. He saw his black underwear fly over Potter's head, and then the brat was back in his arms. A long hissed breath escaped Severus when he felt Potter's lithe body against his.

“Harry,” Severus murmured against the pale neck. He dipped his tongue into the intriguing indention at the base of Potter's neck. “Lay on your back.”

Obediently rolling onto his back, Harry stared up at Snape and smiled. “I've imagined this for so long,” he said softly. Snape simply smirked and proceeded to shred Harry's control.

Long fingers trailed down his chest, stopping to tweak his nipples. Harry arched his back in pleasure. Lips and teeth nipped at his collarbone and then his nipples. Moaning, Harry tangled the fingers of one hand in Snape's hair, and gripped a hard bicep with the other.

Potter arched into every touch. Severus reveled in the soft moans and whimpers at his explorations. He slowly moved down Potter's chest to the firm stomach, carefully mapping the young man's body. Plunging his tongue into the other man's navel, Severus chuckled when Potter moaned. He held the brat's hips still and nipped at his hip bones, nuzzling the Fiannan brand.

Releasing Snape in favor of grabbing handfuls of sheets, Harry growled as the older man avoided his nearly painful erection. “Severus, please,” he moaned.

Raising his head, Severus smiled wickedly. He held Potter's eyes as he slowly licked the hard shaft. Potter dropped his head with a groan. Severus lowered his head, and took the cock into his mouth.

He'd desired Snape for so long that the feel of the older man's mouth surrounding him caused Harry to hiss in pleasure. Snape skillfully worked his cock for several breathtaking minutes. Not wanting to come too quickly, Harry pulled the other man back up.

With a last hungry lick, Severus slowly crawled up Potter's body, pausing briefly to lave dusky nipples. Aligning their erections, he let Potter take his weight. Severus relished the feel of the strong, young body below him.

His forearms resting on either side of the younger man's head, keeping Potter in the perfect position, Severus leaned down and ravished the mouth below him. Plunging his tongue in an age-old rhythm, he began to rock his hips, rubbing his cock against Potter's.

Harry slid his hands down Snape's back till he grasped the tight arse and followed the other man's tempo. The feel of the other cock sliding against his own was sublime. Harry gasped when Snape began rolling his hips; the sensations caused a ball of heat to grow low in his stomach.

Slowly the pace accelerated; panting, Harry met it. Too soon it was irresistible, Harry felt his pleasure peak, and he buried his face in Snape's neck, moaning, “Severus...”

The sound of Potter coming was more than he could resist. Severus rocked against Potter again and again, moaning as his climax approached. Feeling like a gauche teenager, Severus sprayed the young man's stomach with his own release.

Dropping his head to the pillow, he took a moment to catch his breath. He shifted slightly and left a string of soft kisses on Potter's neck. The young man turned his head and captured Severus' lips in a languid kiss. After several moments, he rolled off Potter. Waving his hand, Severus cleaned them both. He immediately pulled Potter into his arms and held him close.

Eventually Harry's heart rate calmed and he snuggled closer to Snape. He absently raked his fingers through the other man's chest hair. He was content lying wrapped securely in strong arms, but Snape was unusually quiet. After minutes passed in silence, Harry asked softly, “What are you thinking?”

“That you're irresistible,” Severus murmured without thinking. When he realized what he'd admitted, he winced. Thinking it was bad enough, but to actually admit it to the brat was worse. Seeing no other way now, Severus growled, “I haven't climaxed because of simple rutting in years.”

Harry laughed. “But it was brilliant rutting.”

Severus snorted, but didn't respond. He lost track of how long they lay intertwined. But when he felt Potter yawn against his chest, Severus shifted them until the young man's back was nestled against his chest. With a possessive arm around the brat, Severus said softly, “Go to sleep, Harry.”

His eyes drifting shut, Harry sighed. He was finally where he belonged: in the arms of Severus Snape. Content, Harry snuggled back against his lover. Lover, he thought fuzzily. About time. Sure Snape couldn't see him, Harry grinned at the thought of someone trying to call Snape his boyfriend. “Goodnight,” he muttered as sleep overtook him.

Severus stayed awake for a long time afterwards, amazed that such a beautiful creature was in his bed. And to all indications, Potter intended to stay. With a tender smile that no one had ever seen on his face, Severus kissed the black locks of his lover and slept.

Morning found Severus once again curled around a warm body. This time there was no question of who it was. The night before was the first thing on his mind. His morning erection rested against the curve of Potter's arse, and Severus wanted nothing more than to slip into that tight channel. But he had no idea of the young man's feelings on anal sex as of yet. A glance at the clock showed it was time to be up anyway, so he reluctantly released Potter and headed to the loo.

He showered quickly and dressed for the day. A quiet conference with the house-elf garnered him two cups of coffee. Severus sat beside Potter, and smoothed the loose hair from the other man's face. Potter stirred in his sleep. With a smile, Severus leaned down and pressed a string of kisses to the soft, sleeping mouth.

Slowly coming awake to the feel of lips against his, Harry smiled. His eyes flitted open and he murmured, “Morning.” He was rewarded with another kiss; he lifted his arms and looped them around Snape's neck. After several moments, Snape pulled away and handed him a cup of coffee. Harry took an appreciative sip and said, “A very good morning.”

They sat sipping coffee for the next few minutes. Once he felt alert, Harry noticed Snape was already dressed. He frowned. “Why are you ready so early?”

Severus' eyes swept over Potter; the brat presented a very pretty picture in the morning. Sheet riding low on his hips, hair disheveled… all in all, the young man looked edible. Rolling his eyes, Severus drawled, “I felt it best to have as many layers between myself and temptation as possible.”

“What temptation?” Harry asked. He thought he'd very clearly offered Snape anything the older man desired last night.

Honestly, he can't be that naive. “The temptation to plunder your firm, young arse while you slept,” Severus snapped irritably.

Harry chuckled. “Wouldn't have had any objections from me,” he admitted sincerely.

Shocked, Severus stared disbelievingly at Potter for a long moment. “I was unsure that you wanted me to know you in that way,” he said hesitantly.

Sitting up, Harry slid a hand onto Snape's thigh. He leaned forward and held the older man's eyes. “I want you to know me in all ways,” Harry said earnestly. “And I want to know you in any way you'll let me.”

Overwhelmed at what Potter was offering, Severus couldn't find the words to express what he felt. “I wouldn't object to that,” he said in an inadequate attempt. Giving up on words, he pulled Potter to him and kissed him deeply. Severus desperately tried to pour his ardent desire to have all of the other man into his kiss.

Harry wasn't sure exactly what Snape wanted, but he figured from the way the man was devouring him that his offer had been well received. Allowing Snape to pull away, Harry tried to lighten the mood. “I take it I'll be waking up tomorrow with your cock up my arse?” he asked airily.

“Be careful what you wish for, brat,” Severus growled.

Grinning unrepentantly, Harry drawled, “'Cause I just might get it?”

Severus shook his head at Potter; the brat was incapable of being serious for long. “You have your Mastery tests this morning, you should dress,” he said, changing the subject.

Harry smirked at Snape's avoidance of his question, but got out of bed. Unselfconscious about his nudity, Harry headed for the bathroom. He paused in the doorway with an idea. “Will you meet me for lunch this afternoon?” he asked.

Severus nodded his agreement. “I'll look forward to it,” he admitted softly. “Now get dressed, you exhibitionist imp.”

As Harry strode briskly from the Ministry building, he growled as another stranger tried to approach him. Apparently he looked frightening enough that the badly dressed man stopped and watched him walk by, wide-eyed. It had been a trying morning for Harry, between the tests and complete strangers fawning over him. He'd never fully realized how much of that burden Snape and the Bar had handled for him.

A glance at his watch showed he was fifteen minutes late meeting Snape. He walked faster to the Apparition point and quickly Apparated to Diagon Alley. Once there, he hurried to the restaurant. With a sigh of relief he saw Snape sitting in a corner booth. Ignoring the hostess, Harry slipped into the seat across from Snape. “Sorry, but the Ministry was full of idiots,” he explained.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “How could you tell the difference?” he asked snidely. He covertly looked over Potter; it seemed the brat had faired well on his tests. There was no obvious damage.

The arrival of the waiter forestalled Severus' questions. After they'd both ordered, he waited till the server was out of earshot. “How did your tests go?” he asked curiously.

Harry plucked out a roll from the basket on the table. “Pretty good,” he began. “The defense test was a breeze.” He tore off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. After swallowing, Harry added, “Transfiguration was a little more challenging.”

Eyeing Potter shrewdly, Severus drawled, “You still have not told me your Animagus form.”

“I haven't?” Harry asked with mock innocence. He laughed when Snape glared at him. “Devlin said it would drive you insane if I didn't tell you,” Harry admitted. He sat back and watched Snape expectantly.

After glaring at the stubborn brat for several long moments, Severus sighed. “Would you be so kind as to share your Animagus form with me?” he drawled sarcastically.

“Why certainly,” Harry said cheekily. “It's a big, black, panther,” he added quietly. He'd had to register when he'd taken his test, but didn't want the fact he was an Animagus to get out if he could help it.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Wonderful,” he moaned. “Yet another way for you to cause trouble.”

Harry tossed half of his bread at Severus. He laughed when the other man snatched it out of the air before it his face. “Git,” he growled affectionately. “I'll promise not to cause you trouble, if it makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I feel infinitely better now, Potter,” Severus said with a smirk.

The talk turned to other matters, and the two men spent an enjoyable lunch hour verbally sparring with each other.

Harry paid the bill and joined Snape outside. “I have to go to a meeting of the Wizengamot in a little while,” he began. Keeping track of his companion's expression out of the corner of his eye, Harry asked, “Would you like to come with me?”

Caught off-guard, Severus whirled to face Potter. His brow furrowed, he asked slowly, “Potter, do you realize what having my company in the chambers will signify?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I want you there.” He knew that having Snape accompany him to the meeting would publicize their alliance. Harry's apprenticeship to Snape was not widely known. “It's past time the wizarding world knows I trust you,” Harry stated firmly.

Stunned that Potter would publicly acknowledge him, Severus closed his eyes briefly. Regaining his composure, he opened his eyes and said simply, “It would be my honor to accompany you, Harry.”

Harry was glad of Snape's presence on the lift to the second level. No one would dare to approach him with the forbidding man at his side. As they made their way to the Wizengamot Administration Services for the meeting, someone called out, “Mr. Potter! Oh, Mr. Potter, please stop.”

Turning around, Harry watched as a small man in blue robes rushed towards them. Panting, he said, “Mr. Potter, so glad I caught you.”

Not recognizing the man, Harry asked, “What can I do for you, Mr.…?”

“Mr. Trimble,” the little man said importantly. The name meant nothing to Harry, but Snape leaned down and whispered, “He authored a dismal book on Defense, I believe it was assigned by Quirrell.”

Harry managed to bite back a snort and turned back to Mr. Trimble. “Was there something you needed?” he asked politely.

“I have been given the privilege of informing you of the results of your Mastery test,” Trimble began. “In the last one hundred years there has been a handful of applicants as…”

“Will you get to the point, you self-important midget?” Severus snarled. He had no patience for listening to fools who liked the sound of their voice.

Trimble squeaked as Snape insulted him, and Harry had to cough to hide his snickering. After a couple of stuttering starts, Trimble eventually managed to get to the point. “Mr. Potter has the highest score on a Defense Mastery test in the last sixty years,” he said quickly.

“Did I pass the Transfiguration Mastery?” Harry asked. He heard Snape intone, “Headmaster.” Harry whirled around and narrowed his eyes as Dumbledore passed them. The old man nodded at them and continued to the meeting.

Harry turned back to Mr. Trimble. The short man nodded, “Oh, yes. You passed that one as well.” Trimble took a deep breath and shot a nervous look at Snape. “We at the Ministry would like to congratulate you, Mr. Potter, on your outstanding success at…”

Severus growled at the imbecile and pulled Potter down the hall, leaving the Ministry stooge speaking to himself.

“Oh, come on, Severus,” Harry laughed. “He was just doing his job. You didn't have to terrify him.”

Sneering, Severus stalked down the hallway. “I was under the impression you loathed such fawning.” Ignoring Potter's laughter, he said seriously, “Despite the obsequiousness of the idiot's manner, he was correct.” With a glance around to insure they were alone, Severus said quietly, “You have accomplished amazing things, Potter. You should be proud of yourself.”

Harry stopped Snape with a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

Severus squeezed Potter's hand briefly before removing it from his arm. He nodded and walked on. “Don't get used to it,” he muttered darkly.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Harry said lightly.

An Auror with a clipboard was standing guard at the door to the meeting room when the two men reached it. Upon seeing Harry, the Auror straightened and smiled widely. “Harry Potter, it is an honor to meet you. Will you be attending the meeting today?”

“Yes, Professor Snape and I will be attending,” Harry said politely.

The guard directed a scornful glare at Snape, and said coldly, “Death Eaters aren't allowed inside.”

With disdainful slowness, Severus rolled up his left sleeve. He turned his arm palm up and showed his unmarked forearm. “I am not a Death Eater,” he said contemptuously.

Without looking at the clipboard, the Auror stated, “Snape's not on my list. Mr. Potter is free to go in.”

“Look, you pompous arse,” Harry growled. “He's here as my guest, so let him in or...”

Chest swelling, the Auror demanded, “Are you threatening me?”

“Not yet,” Harry snarled. He was so intent his altercation with the guard he didn't notice the two people approaching from behind.

“Harry, it's bad form to scare the Aurors,” Devlin said lightly. “What's the problem?”

Relieved to have some help, Harry quickly explained the situation to Devlin and Vane. He kept an eye on Snape who hadn't spoken since showing his arm. He knew Snape's past was a sore spot for the older man and hated that the guard had made such a production of it.

Once apprised of the situation, Devlin turned to the Auror and drawled, “If you lack the authority to admit a guest of Harry Potter's, perhaps you would be kind enough to inform Minister Fudge of the dilemma.”

Paling, the Auror stuttered, “Fine, he can go in.” He turned his back on the group, seeming content to ignore them.

Harry glared at the guard's back, and then Snape grabbed his elbow and propelled him into the room. “He was a rude bastard,” Harry muttered.

With a pained sigh, Severus slowly explained, “Potter, if you continue this relationship, you will face this situation again.”

Stopping in the walkway, Harry ignored the protests of the people behind him. Leaning towards Snape, he hissed heatedly, “I'm not giving you up because some people are too stupid to live.”

“And what are you going to do, Potter?” Severus whispered silkily. “Challenge the entire wizarding world on my behalf?”

Head held high, Harry continued to his seat. He called back to Snape, “If I have to.”

Harry ignored Snape's muttering as he located his seat. Securing an extra chair for Snape, he settled in beside Vane and Devlin. The group chatted for several minutes until Minister Fudge entered the room. Excusing himself, Harry crossed the room and ambushed the minister. “Minister Fudge,” he began affably. “As you can see, I'm here to take my seat. Well, one of them, anyway.”

Fudge turned and gave Harry a pained smile. “Mr. Potter, I always knew this day would come,” the smaller man said. “Congratulations on taking up your responsibility. Now if you'll pardon me, I must start the meeting.”

“One second, Minister,” Harry interjected. “There is the matter of Devlin's seat to settle.”

Sputtering several times, Fudge finally managed to spit out, “What seat?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry raised a brow and stared down at the minister. After several seconds, Fudge sighed. “Very well, I'll announce it in the opening of the Wizengamot.” Huffing with apparent frustration, the minister asked, “Was there anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” Harry said with a smile. “I'll be sure to let you know if I happen to think of anything.” After giving Fudge a half bow, Harry returned to his seat.

During the ceremonial opening of the Wizengamot, Harry fidgeted restlessly, tapping his fingers on his thigh until it seemed he'd driven Snape spare.

Rolling his eyes at Potter's incessant tapping, Severus snatched the offending hand from the brat's thigh. Careful to appear attentive, he laced his fingers with Potter's and squeezed warningly. “Be still,” he hissed under his breath.

Harry stopped fidgeting, but was still bored. Eventually the minister announced Devlin's appointment to a seat, causing a minor ruckus. It held Harry's attention for several minutes. When he tired of that, he turned to Snape, who was still in possession of his hand. “I know you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” he whispered mischievously.

Severus glared. “There are spells designed to control impertinent brats such as yourself,” he drawled. “Would you prefer I used them?”

“Oh, relax, Severus,” Harry complained. “This shite is so boring. How can you sit there like you enjoy it?”

Smirking, Severus leaned closer. “By imaging various ways to torture Fudge, should he ever be at my mercy,” he said menacingly.

Pressing his lips together, Harry fought back his laughter. Leave it to Snape to liven up the boring meeting. Leaning back, Harry squeezed the hand he held appreciatively. After what felt like an eternity, Fudge asked if there was any new business. Harry let go of Snape and stood.

“Minister Fudge, esteemed members of the Wizengamot,” Harry began respectfully. “The Fiannan warriors' council has requested that I represent their interests before this body.”

Pandemonium followed his announcement. Harry held his position proudly as the chamber exploded in a whirl of shouting. He smirked when neither Dumbledore nor the minister was unable to regain control. Hearing Snape, Devlin and Vane laughing behind him, Harry turned and asked, “Should I shut them up?”

Devlin grinned wickedly, but didn't get the chance to speak. Severus spoke quickly to prevent Devlin from encouraging Potter in some reckless action. “Do not silence them,” he said firmly. “Perhaps, a voice projection charm would be appropriate.”

“Spoil-sport,” Devlin muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew Snape thought he was foolhardy, but even he wouldn't be so audacious as to silence the Wizengamot. Casting `Sonorus', he turned back to the assembly. “Can I have you attention?” he asked with a magically magnified voice.

The shouts continued. Harry tried again, politely, twice more. Finally fed up, he added more power to the spell and shouted, “If you idiots will shut it, I'd be happy to answer your questions.”

Silence fell over the room; members of the Wizengamot stared at him sullenly. Harry had to hide a smile at the sight of the most powerful members of society looking like scolded children. Removing the spell, he spoke again, “Thank you. Now if there are any concerns, I will gladly address them.”

Minister Fudge and Dumbledore were having an intense conversation with a couple of witches Harry didn't recognize. After several minutes, Dumbledore sat back with a pleased expression and Fudge stepped forward. “Mr. Potter, it is my understanding that only a fully fledged Fiannan warrior is authorized to speak on their behalf.”

“Correct you are,” Harry said airily. “I am a Fiannan warrior.”

The disruption wasn't as loud this time. Shocked whispers and startled denials were quickly silenced by the minister. Once control was reestablished, Fudge started, “Not that I doubt your word...” His gaze flicked to Dumbledore, who nodded imperceptibly. “…But I would be remiss if I did not seek more substantial verification.”

“Oh, I understand,” Harry said darkly. He glared at the headmaster; he knew who was behind the request. As he reached for his robes, he heard Snape mutter, “Potter, it's inappropriate to shed your clothing in these chambers.”

“I'll keep my clothes on,” Harry hissed softly.

Harry pulled a scroll from his pocket and floated it over to the minister. “Inside you will find a letter from Ronan Brody, the Fiannan captain.” He paused until the minister broke the seal and read the letter. “I trust his word is sufficient.”

“This seems to be in order,” Fudge admitted weakly.

Amelia Bones stood, and asked, “Mr. Potter, why are the Fianna now rejoining our world?”

“Madam Bones,” Harry acknowledged her with a small bow. “The Fianna feel that they may be needed in the near future and wish to end their isolation.”

“Well, I welcome them back,” Madam Bones said. “And congratulations, Mr. Potter, on such an achievement.”

Harry bowed again. “Thank you.” He turned back to the minister. “Was there anything else?”

Fudge seemed unsure of what to do; he looked to Dumbledore. The old man was chatting with the witch at his side and ignored the minister. “I'll have to take this under consideration,” he began nervously.

Devlin climbed to his feet. “What's there to consider, Fudge?” he drawled. “I'm sure you're familiar with Section 158 of the charter, stating that the Fianna are allowed representatives of their choice with no interference from the Ministry.”

Fudge sputtered; it seemed all his support had deserted him. “Very well,” he snapped after a moment. “Next order of business,” he demanded.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered to Devlin as they took their seats.

Devlin shrugged. “I always enjoy putting Fudge in his place,” he said nonchalantly.

The remainder of the meeting passed uneventfully. Harry managed to sit still throughout the boring session, but resolved to attend only the important meetings in the future. When the meeting ended, Harry and his friends remained seated and waited for the crowd to clear.

They were standing to leave when the headmaster approached. “Harry, could I have a word?” Dumbledore asked jovially.

Harry stiffened; he hadn't forgotten what Dumbledore had asked of Snape. “Headmaster,” he said tightly.

Dumbledore looked at the three men flanking Harry. “Privately, if I may, “he said pointedly.

“Don't bother,” Harry said with a smirk. “I'll tell them as soon as you leave anyway. Might as well have them stay.”

Dumbledore sighed, but didn't protest. “I overheard Mr. Trimble's statement about your Mastery. Well done, my boy,” Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes was back.

Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for the old man to get to the point. He no longer needed the headmaster's approval.

“Yes, well I have a proposition for you,” Dumbledore went on.

When Dumbledore didn't continue, Harry looked pointedly at his watch.

It seemed the headmaster caught the point. “I wish to offer you the Defense position,” he said hurriedly.

Harry's eyes widened, and he heard Snape snort behind him. What was the old man playing at now? “Why?” he asked.

“Your scores were outstanding, child. Surely you can understand why I'd want someone so accomplished at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said. He looked at Harry expectantly.

“You only discovered his scores a short time ago,” Severus interjected. “Let us stop pretending, Headmaster.”

“Yes, tell us how having Harry at Hogwarts will further the `greater good,'” Devlin drawled coldly.

Dumbledore looked hurt. “I have been unable to fill the position,” he admitted. “And I didn't wish to see another Ministry official in that position.” Dumbledore gave Harry an imploring look. “Surely you don't wish to see a repeat of your fifth year,” he said softly.

Rolling his eyes at the headmaster's attempted manipulation, Harry thought quickly. It was too big of a decision to make hastily. “I will consider it,” he began. “I'll let you know in a few days.”

Nodding, Dumbledore spoke again, “There is an Order meeting in two days. I planned on inviting you to attend. You could give me your answer then.”

Harry agreed and the headmaster left without further comment. Sighing, Harry turned to his companions. “Is it just me, or does the old man get crazier every time I see him?”

Unexpected Assistance

Early August 1999

The sun had set when the four men exited the Ministry. Harry Apparated back to Sinister Place for dinner, hoping dinner would pass quickly. He desperately wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed the coming night. Hopefully with Snape. With a nod to his companions, Harry headed upstairs and cleaned up for the evening meal.

He was walking down the hall to the dinning room, when a hand shot out and pulled him close. Smiling when he recognized Snape, Harry allowed himself to be pressed against the wall. Tilting his head back, he murmured, “Hello, Severus.”

Severus crowded closer to Potter. Lowering his head, he said, “Allow me to demonstrate the correct way to greet your lover.” Then he covered Potter's succulent lips with his own. Potter opened to his tongue immediately. He plunged in and savored the young man's taste. Drawing back a little, Severus nipped at the full lower lip, and then soothed the abused flesh with his tongue.

Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's neck, leaning into the kiss. He followed the caressing tongue back into Snape's mouth. With a soft, contented `hmm', Harry leisurely explored the older man's mouth for several moments. I'll never get enough of his taste, Harry thought.

Pulling back a scarce inch, Severus growled, “Do you know how tempting you looked defying Fudge today?”

“Tempting enough that you'll come stay with me?” Harry asked.

Pressing a string of kisses along Potter's jaw, Severus murmured, “In your home?” He suckled an earlobe for a moment, and then whispered heatedly, “Or in your bed?”

Lowering his hands to Snape's waist, Harry pulled him closer. He brazenly rocked his hips against his lover. “Yes, both,” Harry responded breathlessly.

Growling low in his chest, Severus grabbed Potter's arse to still the brat's movements. “Very well, Potter. I'll follow you home.” I'd follow you through hell, he admitted to himself.

With a final kiss, Severus said gruffly, “We should go in, before they send a search party.”

“Too late,” a voice said. Harry and Severus both turned and saw Luc standing at the end of the hall with a petulant expression. Luc looked at Harry. “This is why you turned me down?” he demanded.

Harry tried to wiggle away from Snape, but the older man wouldn't release him. Giving up, Harry addressed Luc with as much dignity as his position allowed. “Partly,” he admitted, “but mostly because you're like a brother to me, not a lover.”

With a sigh, Luc turned to Severus. “I suppose you won't be sharing?” he asked mournfully.

His grip on Potter tightened momentarily, and then Severus shifted so that he was blocking the younger man from sight. “Not in this lifetime,” he growled. He glared at Luc. “If you require further convincing, I have a potion to calm your raging libido,” Severus added malevolently.

Luc raised both hands in defeat. Backing away, he said, “You've made your point, Severus. I'll stay out of your way.” He turned and went into the dinning room.

Harry poked Snape it the back. “You are such a prat,” he grumbled. Snape turned to face him. “I can handle Luc.”

Severus stalked closer until Potter was against the wall once again. “You are mine,” he said firmly. “I will do what I must to make that fact clear to anyone who challenges me.”

Accepting that like it or lump it, this was Snape, Harry sighed. “Fine, but can you be, I don't know, less… evil bastard while you go about it?” he asked crossly. “It's one thing to do things like that to Luc. But if you act like that around normal people, you'll make someone cry.”

Relieved Potter accepted his hitherto unknown possessive streak, Severus snorted. “I am an evil bastard, Potter.” Dropping a kiss to frowning lips, he slapped Potter's arse and growled, “Dinner, brat.”

Rubbing his abused behind, Harry grouched, “Doesn't it bother you to call the man you're shagging `brat'?”

Walking away, Severus called over his shoulder, “Not in the least… brat.”

“So gonna have to talk about the pet names,” Harry grumbled as he caught up to Snape.

Dinner with the Bar was uneventful. Luc was cautious around Snape, but seemed relatively normal otherwise. Harry was relieved; it seemed his relationship with Luc wouldn't suffer. He valued the other man's friendship and didn't want to lose it. When Devlin saw Harry and Snape walk in together, he smirked and winked at Harry, but held his tongue. The others seemed unaware that anything had changed.

Harry and Snape said their farewells, and Flooed back to Harry's home. It was still relatively early, so Harry suggested a drink in the den. He didn't want Snape to think all he was after was a physical relationship, so he reined in his impulse to head straight to bed. Besides, he'd been gone a long while, and letters weren't the same as talking.

Smirking behind his glass, Severus mentally gave Potter points for his restraint. He was aware of the direction of the brat's thoughts. Amused and aroused that Potter wanted him, Severus was nevertheless gratified to see that the younger man seemed to desire his company as much as his body.

He watched with predatory eyes as Potter finished his drink and rose to get a refill. Quick as a snake, Severus shot out a hand and tumbled Potter into his lap. With a few squirms the brat settled down and rested his head on Severus' shoulder. “While your restraint is admirable, there is no reason we can't talk from this position,” Severus said quietly.

“I don't know,” Harry said with a grin. “I might get distracted.” Belying his words, Harry sank further into Snape's embrace.

Resting his cheek against Potter's hair, Severus asked softly, “Have you given any thought to Albus' offer?”

Harry fought not to tense; they had never discussed if Snape wanted the Defense job or not. He'd heard the rumors in school, and didn't want to start an argument with the other man. Harry desperately sought a diplomatic way to broach the subject.

Glad Potter couldn't see his expression, Severus smirked. He could almost hear the thoughts racing in the brat's mind. Taking pity on him, Severus said, “I have resigned myself to being passed over.” Nudging Potter, he added, “Do not let the fact that I desire the position influence you.”

Tipping his head back so he could see Snape, Harry looked for any sign that the volatile man was angry. Pleased to see Snape seemed willing to discuss the matter calmly, Harry admitted softly, “I was worried that you would get all pissy about it.”

Severus snorted. “I don't do `pissy'.” Shifting so Potter wouldn't have to lean at such an awkward angle, he hesitantly took the young man's hand. Unable to lie to himself, Severus sighed. He did want the Defense position, had for years. But there was very little chance Albus would give it to him. Potions masters were too hard to come by and of course the old coot didn't trust him when it came to the Dark Arts.

“I would prefer to see you take the job, rather than yet another incompetent,” Severus said gruffly.

Lacing their fingers together tightly, Harry caught Snape's eyes. “I don't really want the job.” He leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on tightly drawn lips. “I need more freedom than a full time position like that would have.”

Severus frowned down at Potter. “You don't want the job?” he asked slowly. He honestly didn't understand how Potter could pass up a position that he was eminently qualified for. He knew the young man regarded Hogwarts as one of the few places he loved, so why would Potter not desire the job? “Is it because of the headmaster?”

Harry shook his head. “I don't want to spend my life on Defense, and Dark Arts,” he explained softly. “And really, I can't be tied down like that and deal with Voldemort at the same time.”

With a wicked smile, Harry told Snape what he'd been thinking. “It's possible you could get the job.”

One black brow lifted in question, so Harry hurried to explain. “I'm not going to take the job, but if Dumbledore wants me at Hogwarts, maybe he'll be content with me as your assistant. If he'll give you the DADA position, of course.”

Severus pursed his lips as he thought over Potter's idea. It seems the brat is honing his Slytherin nature, he thought, seeing the possibilities. Focusing again on Potter, he said slowly, “Your idea has potential. If the old man truly wishes to avoid Ministry interference at Hogwarts, he may go for it.”

With a thoughtful frown, Severus asked, “But who would take over Potions?”

Harry shrugged; he didn't have an answer to that one yet. He eyed Snape with a calculating grin. He'd shared his idea; now he had other plans. To distract Snape until he lost control.

Shifting slightly in Snape's lap, Harry started laying soft kisses to the pale neck. Curious as to how far he could go until the other man responded, Harry mixed sharp nips with gentle sucking along the strong column. He felt Snape's hands drop to his hips and smiled. Boldly, Harry straddled Snape's lap and pressed his erection against a hard stomach.

Severus growled at Potter's teasing. His hands tightened on the brat's hips. Sliding one hand up Potter's back, Severus cupped the younger man's skull and tangled his fingers in the black strands. With a sharp tug, he pulled Potter's head up and crushed their lips together.

Harry melted into the passionate kiss for several moments, but he wanted more. Twisting out of Snape's grip, Harry quickly pulled his shirt up and off. Tossing it aside, he reclaimed the thin lips and blindly fumbled with Snape's buttons.

Severus swatted Potter's hands away and quickly undid the buttons himself. The sensation of the other man's hand sliding up his chest caused Severus to shiver. Slightly calloused hands pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, stopping at his elbows. He struggled to get the constricting shirt off, but Potter chose that moment to break the kiss and start nipping at Severus' neck again.

Grinning at Snape's struggles, Harry took full advantage of the older man's temporary disadvantage to trace sharp collarbones with his tongue. Kissing and nipping his way lower, Harry felt Severus stop struggling and arch into his touch.

Tensing in anticipation as Potter approached his nipple, Severus growled when there was a loud knock at the door. Fighting with his damn shirt again, he snarled, “Send them away, Potter.”

“It's probably just Vane with some papers from the Wizengamot,” Harry said as he straightened up. Waving his hand in the direction of the door, Harry heard it open. “Leave the papers on the table, and get out,” he hollered. Bending back down to Snape's chest, he immediately teased a brown nipple with his tongue.

“Harry! Professor Snape!”

Harry's head snapped up and he stared into Hermione's mortified eyes. Chancing a look down at his lover, Harry bit back a grin. Snape was glaring fiercely at Hermione, and furiously trying to pull his shirt together.

Finally managing to get the shirt back into place, Severus hastily did up a few buttons. Turning to Potter, he growled at the amused glint in the brat's eyes. Standing abruptly, he had the pleasure of seeing Potter fall off his lap to the floor with a startled `hey!'. Severus gathered his shredded dignity and faced Granger. “Ms. Granger, what an unpleasant surprise,” he said with a sneer. “Would you like some tea while you invade our privacy?”

Standing slowly, Harry rubbed his sore arse. He'd known Snape was reserved, but dumping Harry off his lap like that was taking things too far. “You are such a bastard,” he grumbled heatedly.

Fighting his embarrassment at being caught by a former student in such an undignified position, Severus ignored Potter's mutters. “Very well, tea for the trespasser and the exhibitionist,” he snarled. He stalked from the room.

Rolling his eyes at Snape's rigid back, Harry scooped his shirt off the floor. He slipped it back on and then faced Hermione. “What brings you here?” he asked with a raised brow.

With a nervous glance at the door Snape had exited, Hermione asked, “What's going on?”

Harry sat in the chair Snape had abandoned. “That should be fairly obvious,” he said with a grin. Hermione stared at him in disbelief. “For Merlin's sake, sit down,” he huffed.

She gingerly sat in the chair opposite Harry's. “You and Professor Snape are…?” She didn't seem to know how to phrase her question.

Harry smirked. “Severus and I are lovers, if that's what you're asking,” he drawled.

“But, how? Why?” Hermione questioned.

With his clothing restored to order, Severus entered the room to catch the last part of the conversation. “I'm quite certain you did not come here for details on Potter's sex life, Ms. Granger,” he snapped. Settling on the couch, Severus added, “The elf will be in with tea momentarily.”

Hermione frowned at the mention of Dobby but held her tongue. Flicking a glance at Snape, Harry was relieved to see the older man had regained his usual composure. He knew Snape was a private man, and had hoped he wasn't too unsettled by Hermione's sudden appearance. But we'll be discussing the dumping me on my arse thing later, Harry thought darkly.

Dobby popped in, and quickly set up a table. After depositing an overflowing tray, the little elf left again. In the tense silence Harry poured everyone tea and passed around the miniature sponge cakes Dobby had left.

Once everyone was served, Harry sat back and waited for Hermione to speak. Living with the Bar and Snape had taught him the value of letting the other party begin. After a few minutes, Hermione shifted in agitation and blurted out, “I'm sorry.”

Still annoyed with the chit, Severus drawled, “For which of your myriad of offences are you apologizing for?”

Shooting a sharp look at Snape, Harry growled warningly, “Severus.” Snape shrugged, unconcerned, but didn't say anything further. Harry sighed; he wanted to hurry this along and get back to Snape. “Hermione, why are you here?”

With a deep breath, Hermione determinedly met Harry's eyes. “I should have been a better friend,” she started.

Harry tilted his head in question and she hurried to explain. “I was trying to understand why you've changed, so I reread all the letters you've sent me.” Her hands fluttered and she clasped them together. “I got to the one you wrote right before you went after Voldemort.”

Even after all this time, Severus still winced at hearing the Dark Lord's name. To cover his discomfort, he snapped at Granger, “Is there a point to this sentimental drivel?”

Harry glared at Snape, but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what exactly the problem was, but the man was taking it out on Hermione. Sighing again, Harry turned to Hermione. She was frowning down at her hands. “The letter?” he prompted. When Hermione gave Snape a wary look, Harry advised, “Just ignore him.”

“To keep it succinct,” she gave Snape a tart look, “I've realized what you've been trying to tell me for the last three years.” With a sad smile, she added, “You were right about the headmaster. He's not always acted in your best interest.”

“And they claim you're an intelligent witch,” Severus drawled. “It only took you three years to realize the bloody obvious.” His contempt for Granger evident with every word he spoke.

Closing his eyes briefly in a bid for patience, Harry turned to Snape. “We could do this faster if you were less of a git,” he said with gritted teeth.

Severus glared at Potter. “Forgive me, Potter,” he mocked. “But I find Granger's timing suspicious. Why did it take three years to seek you out?”

Hermione swelled with outrage. “I just explained why. But you're too paranoid to believe me,” she said hotly. Turning to Harry, she said earnestly, “I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to understand, Harry.”

Harry sat back tiredly and sipped his tea. Looking from Hermione to Snape, he asked quietly, “Can we do this without the snide remarks?”

Hermione, looking shamefaced, agreed quickly. Snape glared for a moment, then sniffed disdainfully and nodded. With a relieved breath, Harry looked at Hermione. “There's nothing to be sorry about, Hermione. You were doing what you felt was best.”

Crumbling her cake nervously, Hermione looked up at Harry. “I want to help,” she said hurriedly. “I know you're looking for the Horcruxes, and I can help.” She took a deep breath and plunged on, “You know I'm good at research, and I'll do whatever you need. But that's not all.”

Seeing Hermione seemed reluctant to continue, Harry asked softly, “What else, Hermione?”

With a pained expression, she answered, “I overheard the headmaster talking to Moody.” She paused and after several moments continued, “Professor Dumbledore said he'd do anything to get you back at Hogwarts where he can keep a close eye on you.”

She glanced at Snape cautiously. “He said Professor Snape is too… enchanted with your power to rely on anymore.”

Harry laughed. “Is it my power, Severus, that enchanted you?”

Scowling, Severus spat, “Hardly, Potter. Indeed, I wonder what `enchanted' me in the first place.”

Ignoring Snape's bluster, Harry responded cheekily, “Must have been my arse then.”

Hermione giggled. Harry turned to her with a grin. “It's a very nice arse, don't you think?”

“Lovely,” she agreed giving Harry an appreciative once over.

“Potter, recall our conversation about challengers,” Severus snarled in warning.

Biting back another laugh, Harry nodded. The room fell into silence and Harry thought furiously about Hermione's news. After a few minutes, he gave Snape a sly glance.

Severus caught the expression on Potter's face and barely repressed a groan. The brat had a plan. Giving in to the inevitable, he asked, “What is it?”

“Hermione doesn't have a job right now,” Harry began.

Closing his eyes, Severus shook his head. “No.”

“And she was unsurpassed in Potions,” Harry went on, ignoring Snape's protest.

“Absolutely not, Potter. It is preposterous,” Severus said weakly. He knew the brat was right. But he didn't want Granger in his labs, not matter how foolish it sounded.

With a confused glance at each of them, Hermione asked Harry, “What are you talking about?”

Giving a pointed look to Snape, Harry quickly explained about the headmaster's job offer and his reasons for not taking it. Hermione nodded thoughtfully and when Harry was done asked, “But if Professor Snape were to teach Defense, who would take over the Potions?”

Harry sat back and stared at Snape with a raised brow. Harry had no doubt Hermione was the best choice, and knew Snape was aware of that fact too. Now the other man had to admit it.

Severus held Potter's stare for several moments and then lowered his eyes in defeat. He was well and truly caught. Granger was the best choice, no matter how much he disliked the thought of a Gryffindor in his labs; the chit was one of the few with the talent for the position. With a resigned sigh he turned to the young woman. “That is where you come in, Ms. Granger.”

The Clear Truth

The humid summer night's breeze caressed Harry's skin as he watched Hermione Apparate away. Sitting tiredly on the front steps, Harry dropped his head into his hands. This evening had not gone the way he'd planned. While he was glad Hermione had come around to his way of thinking, Harry was aware that Severus was annoyed with him.

Deciding it was best to give the older man time to come to terms with the new situation, Harry pulled out his cigarettes and quickly lit one. Leaning back on the steps, Harry smoked and watched the stars. Spying Sirius, Harry nodded in recognition of his godfather and the influence Sirius Black had on his life.

Harry thought over the course his life had taken since receiving that letter from Sirius. So much had changed for him, and in him. While he still missed the uncomplicated friendship he'd had with Ron and the other Gryffindors, Harry wouldn't trade the Bar and Severus for anything. It was their understanding and unconditional support that allowed him to become what he was today − a warrior, and a man.

Harry was unaware of how long he'd been sitting lost in thought, when he felt a warm presence at his back. As his lover sat behind him, Harry nestled into a strong chest.

Severus wrapped his arms around the young man and pulled him closer. There was a melancholy air about Harry. He leaned down and rested his head atop Potter's. While Severus was annoyed, he was not irritated with Potter himself. He was irked that Potter had seen the solution before he had. “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“About Sirius,” Harry said a little sadly. “And how he changed the direction of my life.”

With a shaky breath, Severus asked the question he feared the answer to. “Any regrets?”

Twisting so he could face Severus, Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of his lover. “No,” he said firmly. “Not a single one.” Harry leaned up and softly pressed his lips to Severus', willing the other man to understand the unspoken declaration Harry didn't think Severus was ready to hear.

Parting his lips to Harry's questing tongue, Severus basked in the warmth of the young man's affections. Slowly the tenor of the kiss changed, and Severus pulled Harry flush against his body. Thrusting his tongue into the young man's mouth, Severus growled lowly and took control of the kiss.

Without relinquishing Harry's mouth, Severus pulled his lover to his feet. Maneuvering them both until he had the brat against a support column, Severus growled again when he finally felt the hard length of his lover's body against him.

Several minutes later, they were both panting and aching with need. Severus tore his mouth away from Harry's and ground out, “Bed. Now.”

Waking wrapped around Harry Potter was quickly becoming his new addiction. Tightening his arms around his lover, Severus smirked smugly at the memories of the previous evening. Harry had been delightfully astonished when Severus offered up his own arse to the brat. What Severus had felt that night was too powerful; he had wanted to claim Potter, to own him, to mark Harry as his so that no one would ever take the brat from him. The force of his desire alarmed him and left him distinctly uneasy, so he'd repressed it and allowed the boy to bugger him.

Now, however, was a different situation altogether, and Severus had a promise to keep. Waking Harry Potter with a cock up his arse. Determined to keep his word, Severus slowly let his hand caress Harry's firm chest. Pausing to tease brown nipples into hard little peaks, Severus followed the soft trail of hair down a hard stomach until he reached his lover's cock.

Taking care not to wake his partner, Severus gently teased Harry's half-hard prick to fullness. Shifting carefully, he silently summoned the vial of oil from the nightstand. With slow movements he prepared the young man. Potter was relaxed in sleep and required little in the way of preparation.

Impatiently coating his own cock with oil, Severus positioned himself and slowly eased the head of his prick into Harry's arse. The first clasp of Harry's flesh around him had Severus sweating. The urge to simply thrust the remaining way was near overwhelming.

Severus reined in his impulse, and with determined languor eased further till he was fully sheathed. One hand splayed across a taut stomach, the other stretched under pillows to twine with Harry's, Severus began to move. Slowly, gently rocking his hips, Severus made love to Harry. Mornings were made for long slow shags and he was intent on making the brat beg.

Harry slowly surfaced from his dreams of Severus making love to him to the reality of it. Still drifting in a daze, he arched back into his lover. Moving one knee forward, he felt Severus slide deeper into him. Every slow, measured thrust brought him closer to completion, but the older man did not let him go over.

Harry could do nothing but accept the languid pace. His right hand was intertwined with Severus' above his head, and when he reached for his aching cock with the other, the older man stopped him. His hand was held fast to his stomach. Sighing, Harry tried to thrust back against the hard cock inside him, but the hand on his held him still. “More,” he moaned softly.

Severus had waited years to have the brat, and now that he was where he'd longed to be he intended to take his time. Long uncounted minutes passed with only soft moans to break the silence. The deliberate pace was testing his control to its fullest. Severus nuzzled the brat's ear and murmured, “Harry… so good...”

Harry's body was one mindless nerve demanding a release that never came. The unhurried pace left him unable to do anything beyond moan, and arch into his lover. Again and again, the long, hard cock slowly entered him, pressing against his prostrate with each pass, and then retreated at the same excruciatingly lazy rate.

He'd never felt so possessed in his life; Severus surrounded him; every cell in his body was reaching for the older man. Lips and teeth found his neck, nibbling and sucking, finding every sensitive spot Harry knew of. He wanted more; he needed more, more friction, more of Severus, more of everything. So once again he moaned, “More… please.”

At last the need for release was unbearable, and Severus wanted there to be no doubts about who was fucking Potter. The incident with Luc still plagued his mind; he knew it was unfair to the brat, but couldn't help himself. With one last nip to Harry's neck, Severus demanded gruffly, “My name, Harry, say my name.”

Harry heard Severus' request, but it made little sense to him. “Please,” he whispered desperately.

Severus stilled, and nipped at the brat's ear roughly. “Say it.”

“Severus,” Harry finally moaned.

The sound of his name dripping so prettily from the brat's lips shattered his self-control. With a hard thrust Severus began pounding into his lover.

When a hot hand surrounded his neglected cock, Harry whimpered. He still wasn't sure what Severus wanted, but since saying the man's name got such a reaction, Harry softly moaned, “Severus,” over and over.

It didn't take long until Harry felt his climax hit him. He came in lush waves over his lover's hand, with `Severus' on his lips. The strength of his release stunned him; he'd never come so hard in his life. Somehow, the older man had the presence of mind to sooth Harry through his orgasm and still keep the now frantic pace.

Severus thrust roughly, riding through Harry's orgasm. The overwhelming rightness he felt when joined with Harry caused heat to pool low in his stomach. The clenching of the tight arse around him pushed him over the edge, triggering his own release. With a muffled groan against his lover's neck, Severus came. Even as he shuddered through his climax, Severus wasn't surprised by the intensity of it.

Still wrapped around Harry, Severus panted as he tried to regain his shattered composure. After a couple of moments, he carefully eased out of the other man, and flopped onto his back. Given the depth of his feelings for the brat, he hadn't expected anything less than explosive from their lovemaking. And for the first time in his life it was lovemaking, not simply sex.

The brat immediately rolled over and pillowed his head on Severus' chest. Content, Severus wrapped an arm around Potter and held him close.

Harry smiled against Severus and said lightly, “You can wake me that way anytime.”

Severus snorted. “Go back to sleep, brat.”

The next afternoon Harry sat in the study at Sinister Place, the sun glinting off the blade he was absently twirling. Severus and Devlin were arguing over Harry's insistence that Hermione could be trusted.

With a heavy sigh Harry broke up the disagreement. “Enough already.” Both men turned and glared at him. “Severus, we already had this fight. I trust her, you don't. Fine, I get that, but we agreed to have Devlin vet her, so stop bickering over methods. She'll be here soon.”

Severus scowled at Potter, and sunk into his chair, ignoring both of them.

Devlin snorted, but asked smoothly, “Is there any indication the chit knows Occlumency?”

“I know she's aware of it,” Harry said thoughtfully. He nodded to Severus. “He'd be in a better position to know.”

Severus refused to speak, until a frustrated Devlin growled, “Severus, does the girl know Occlumency or not?”

“Oh, you desire my input now? I'm sorry, I hadn't realized I was allowed to speak.”

Biting back a laugh, Harry thought to himself, Merlin, he's a petty bastard when he gets his nose out of joint. With exaggerated patience, Harry asked, “Severus, does she know it?”

“I doubt it,” Severus said after a long moment. “The headmaster would not have taught her and there is no other accomplished Legilimens in the Order.”

Devlin nodded thoughtfully. Harry felt it prudent to mention that Hermione had been with him when he'd been looking for books in fifth year. “But we never found any decent ones,” he added with a shrug.

“Well, it's a risk we'll have to take,” Devlin concluded.

The three men chatted quietly while they waited. Within a quarter of an hour there was a knock at the door. Devlin called for a house-elf and sent it to answer the door. Harry groaned. “She hates the whole elf enslavement thing.”

“I know,” replied Devlin with a wicked grin.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Harry sat back to watch the show. Hopefully Hermione was still Gryffindor enough to deal with Devlin's methods of ensuring the sincerity of potential allies.

Several moments later, Hermione followed the elf into the room. She was neatly dressed in brown slacks and a red blouse, and Harry was amused to see she still couldn't tame her hair. Standing, he greeted her and made sure she remembered Devlin. After everyone was seated and comfortable, Harry started. “We wanted to make sure that you're really committed to helping us, Hermione.”

“Of course I am,” she said quickly. “I wouldn't change my mind now, Harry.”

“Then you won't mind answering a few questions,” Devlin put in smoothly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Devlin and answered coolly, “If I can, I'd be happy to answer any questions Harry has for me.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Potter's not asking the questions today, Granger. You'll have to deal with Devlin.”

Hoping to forestall any sniping, Harry broke in, “Hermione, you have to understand, Devlin and Severus don't know you as well as I do. They're naturally suspicious bastards, and doubly so when it comes to Dumbledore.” He ignored the glares from the two men and continued, “Devlin has a duty to the Bar and me to check out any possible allies. Please, just answer the questions and set his mind at ease.”

Hermione held his eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh his words. Finally, she nodded sharply. “Fine, but I'm only doing this for Harry.”

With those words, Severus knew she was sincere. He couldn't count the number of times he'd thought the same. Only Potter could induce him to consider allowing the know-it-all Gryffindor into his labs. He sighed heavily and let Devlin interrogate the chit.

Devlin eyed Hermione shrewdly, and then asked quietly, “Does Dumbledore know you've approached Harry?”

With a huff, Hermione answered. “No. I see no reason to inform the headmaster of what I do with my free time.”

Capturing Hermione's eyes, Devlin softly demanded, “And where do your loyalties lie in this war?”

“With Harry,” she answered promptly. Hermione glared at Devlin for a moment, then added sharply, “You do know that it's rude to use Legilimency without a person's permission, don't you?”

Sitting back with a snort, Devlin said coolly, “I was under the impression that you were not an Occlumens.”

“I'm not,” Hermione admitted. “But over the years I have become able to notice when someone is invading my mind.”

Harry and Severus looked at each other. They reached the same conclusion simultaneously. “Dumbledore,” Harry said flatly.

Hermione nodded sadly. “I've only been aware of what the sensation indicated recently, but when I think back I know that he's been doing it for years.” She looked down. “Since we were in school.”

Harry knew how much it hurt when you lost faith in a mentor; he looked up at Devlin and asked softly, “Was that enough?” When the older man nodded, Harry rose and crossed to Hermione. He dropped to his knees beside her and took her hand in his. He murmured soft reassurances to her until she looked up.

With dry eyes, Hermione said bitterly, “I've lost respect for Albus Dumbledore.” Looking at Harry, she added, “But you, Harry, you've never let me down. I'd be proud to follow you.”

And in an echo of Harry's first meeting with the Bar, Devlin declared, “Hermione Granger, the Bar Sinister would be delighted to offer you an alliance.”

The next day, the noon sun shone weakly from the cloudy sky as Harry and his companions approached Grimmauld Place. They made a formidable sight striding down the empty street. Harry was openly wearing his Slytherin daggers, for he was tired of trying to hide what he'd become simply to keep Dumbledore and the Order from fearing him. Severus was dressed in his usual robes, but as always had a subtly menacing air about him. Devlin was accompanying them upon Harry's request, his pale green eyes shining with a wicked gleam. He was looking forward to discomforting the Order. Even Hermione had a frightfully determined demeanor about her.

Reaching the battered black door, Harry wasn't surprised to find Dumbledore hadn't changed the wards. Rolling his eyes, Harry hissed at the knocker, demanding entrance. The lock clicked open and Harry strode inside, the others following behind him.

Wanting to avoid the unpleasant Mrs. Black, the group quietly made their way to the stairs. Heading up, they found the Order in the drawing room, chatting amongst themselves before the meeting. Dumbledore had yet to arrive.

Unconcerned with the mumbles and whispers their presence stirred, the group settled in an unoccupied corner. A few minutes later Remus and Tonks entered the room and joined them. Harry chatted with them while watching the room. A commotion in the hall signaled the arrival of the Weasleys. Molly and Arthur waved as they joined Hestia Jones and Mrs. Figg. Ron scowled in Harry's direction and went to stand by Kingsley. Bill, Charlie, the twins, and Ginny headed for the group in the corner.

Harry bit back a sigh as Ginny approached, but when she settled beside him on the sofa, he rolled his eyes and scooted closer to Hermione. Ginny didn't seem to notice the move as she chatted with Tonks and Remus.

Severus watched the Weasley chit sit beside Harry, and glared at her. Devlin chuckled and elbowed him. “Careful, my friend. It is bad form to murder your allies,” Devlin said with a grin.

“I don't want to kill the chit,” Severus growled. “Maiming her, on the other hand…”

Chuckling, Devlin shook his head.

Harry broke off his conversation with the twins as the headmaster came into the room in a swirl of yellow robes. Wincing at Dumbledore's atrocious fashion sense, Harry waited for the meeting to begin.

Moody entered the room behind Dumbledore; within seconds he'd spied Devlin and demanded loudly, “Potter, why are you letting dark wizards in here?”

Slowly standing, Harry faced down Moody. “He's not a dark wizard,” Harry said firmly. Gazing around the room, he added, “And Devlin has information he is willing to share, on the Death Eaters' movements.”

“He is a Death Eater,” Moody spat.

Devlin, who had been studiously ignoring the other man, turned his icy green eyes on Moody and rose to his feet. “I could kill you for that insult,” he drawled coldly.

Standing his ground, Moody pointed to his magic eye. “You can't hide from me, boy. I can see the mark on your arm.”

There was a collective indrawn breath, and everyone stared at Devlin. With an artic smile, Devlin began rolling up the sleeve on his left arm. “You are correct, old man. I do have a mark.”

Lowering his upraised arm, Devlin displayed the tattoo adorning his forearm. Etched into his skin was a howling wolf. “Just not the Dark Mark,” he said mockingly.

Harry stood watching with a smirk across his face. Moody would have to learn to stop accusing everyone he disapproved of. There weren't that many Death Eaters in the world. He struggled not to laugh when, rolling down his sleeve, Devlin offered nonchalantly, “Since you're all so interested in my body modifications, I have both of my nipples pierced; I'd be happy to show you.”

“That won't be necessary,” Dumbledore said quickly. “Forgive Alastor, but his suspicions have kept us safe for many years now.”

“Really,” Devlin drawled rudely.

The headmaster frowned, but didn't rise to the jibe. “We do appreciate your offer of information.” Clapping his hands, Dumbledore began the meeting.

Sitting back down, Harry absently noted Ginny had moved closer to him, but he was too caught up in what Dumbledore was saying to care. When the headmaster informed the Order of his offer of the Defense post to Harry, everyone turned to him expectantly. Harry narrowed his eyes at the old man; Dumbledore was once again trying to manipulate him. This time the headmaster was trying to use the pressure of the Order to force his compliance.

He was sick of the old man treating him like a child, or a pawn. With quiet determination, Harry said, “The only way I'll come back to Hogwarts is as Severus' assistant.”

“But that would leave the Defense post vulnerable to the Ministry,” Dumbledore began. “No, my dear boy, it would best if you were a full professor.”

Harry smiled mischievously. “Not if you give Severus the position.”

“Give Snape the position and you'll have kids casting Unforgivables inside a month,” Moody declared loudly.

Severus glared at Moody but did not respond to the insult. Turning his attention to the headmaster, he stated quietly, “Potter is still my apprentice, and as such it would be inappropriate for him to take a professorship.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Surely you can release him from the contract, Severus. After all, the boy has gained his Mastery.”

With a haughty look down his nose, Severus drawled, “Since Potter has not expressed a desire to be released, I see no reason to do so.”

“Even if I did give you the job, Severus, I would still be short a teacher,” Dumbledore reasoned.

With a lazy wave of his hand towards Granger, Severus said, “Ms. Granger has indicated an interest in the Potions class.”

Dumbledore appeared surprised. “You would recommend Ms. Granger?” he asked slowly.

“And offer her my assistance,” Severus said casually. “After all, she is on our side.”

Dumbledore looked deep in thought for several minutes. Eventually, he turned to Harry. “This is what you truly desire?”

Harry could feel the subtle probe of Legilimency from the headmaster and held his gaze. He allowed the old man to see that it was the only way that he'd be willing to return to Hogwarts. “Yes,” he said firmly.

Harry could sense the old man's reluctance, but didn't budge from his position. After several long moments, Dumbledore finally nodded and said, “Very well.”

Ignoring the muttered protests, the headmaster declared, “Severus will be the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and Ms. Granger the newest Potions professor. Congratulations to you both.”

Hermione squealed and hugged Harry, while Severus merely smiled smugly. The meeting continued; the only new information so far had been Devlin's report on the Death Eaters' movements. Harry was frustrated. What was the Order doing about locating Voldemort's Horcruxes? Where were the plans to capture the free Death Eaters? And more importantly, why wasn't anything of substance being done?

The Order was a joke, was Harry's conclusion, an ineffectual mess. There was too much bickering between the members, and Dumbledore allowed it to continue. There were good people among the members, people that could be doing what needed to be done. If they had the leadership needed. Leadership the headmaster seemed unable or unwilling to provide.

“And finally,” Dumbledore said, catching Harry's attention once again, “rumors and a shift in the magical harmony indicate that Voldemort has regained a body.”

Harry stared at the headmaster in shock. They had been here for over an hour and the old man just now mentioned it? The room was silent for several long minutes, and then everyone spoke at once. It was chaos; there was shouting, and sobbing. Questions were yelled across the room, and if they were answered, no one could hear it. After several minutes, Harry caught Severus' eye and nodded towards the caterwauling mob.

Severus smirked; he knew exactly what Potter was asking and was pleased to do it. He, too, was furious with the old fool's failure to inform everyone immediately of this grave news. “Silence!” he bellowed.

Every eye snapped to him, and with a disdainful wave of his hand, Severus said, “If you mentally defective morons would shut up, perhaps we could get some answers.”

With hateful murmurs, the group settled and looked to Dumbledore anxiously. Harry sat back in his seat, with his arms across his chest. This had better be good, he thought grimly. His patience with the headmaster had reached its end.

Severus could feel Harry's magic crackling in the air. The brat is furious, he realized. Hoping his presence would calm the younger man, Severus moved until he was standing directly behind him. He slid his hand under a fall of black hair, and rested his hand lightly on Harry's neck. He felt the tension slowly leave his lover's body, and the magic retreat. Leaving his hand where it was, Severus turned his attention to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked sadly around the room and heaved a sigh. Stroking his beard, he began. “I have very little information, I fear. There was a shift that indicated a very powerful dark ritual was performed, just as there was the first time he regained a body.”

Sitting heavily in a chair beside Moody, the headmaster continued, “And the rumors are unsubstantiated at this time.” He gave Harry a reproachful look and added, “The removal of Severus' mark has hurt us in this instance. Have you had any visions you would like to share, Harry?”

Harry snorted; the headmaster's disapproval no longer mattered to him. “I learned Occlumency years ago,” he said casually. “I don't have visions any longer.”

The headmaster's eyes grew wide as he stared at Harry for a moment, then they flew to Severus. “Why wasn't I informed of this development, Severus?” he demanded.

Glaring at Dumbledore, Severus snapped, “Once again, why would I inform you of everything I taught my apprentice?” With a dismissive shrug, Severus drawled, “Potter has learned much that you are unaware of.”

Determinedly bringing the conversation back in line, Harry asked, “Why don't you ask the other person you had spying on Voldemort if their mark has returned?”

Shocked whispers zipped around the room, and then all eyes fell to Dumbledore. The headmaster's face was blank, and he asked with apparent confusion, “What other spy are you referring to?”

With a roll of his eyes, Harry snapped, “Don't give me that senile old fool crap. I know there was a second spy.” Taking a deep breath to calm down, Harry leaned into Severus' hand for a moment. “Now, why haven't you asked?”

Dumbledore held Harry's eyes for a long moment, and then sighed heavily. Shaking his head, he admitted, “I have been unable to contact him.”

“Albus,” Remus began quietly, “why wasn't the Order told about this?”

“He wished to remain anonymous.”

Tonks spoke up, “Well, okay, that explains why you keep his name quiet, but…”

“Why weren't we informed that there was another spy?” Bill asked hotly.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore didn't answer.

“Still keeping secrets from your allies, old man?” Devlin sneered. “Haven't you learned the cost of that yet?”

Moody pulled his wand and pointed it at Devlin. “You don't even belong here, scum. So keep quiet, or I'll do it for you.”

Several people echoed Moody's threat, while others shouted questions at Dumbledore. Harry kept an eye on Moody. He was confident of Devlin's ability to deal with the older man, but it didn't hurt to have backup. He shook his head as, once again, the Order descended into a screaming babble.

Fed up with nothing being accomplished, Harry rose to his feet. Going to the center of the room, he ignored the questions flowing around him. Harry simply stood silently in the middle of the room until everyone fell quiet and all eyes were on him.

“I've had enough of this shite,” he began quietly. “The undisciplined infighting has to stop. If Voldemort has returned, then our world is once again at war.” Harry stood proudly and spoke clearly. “The time has come for us to work together for the good of the wizarding world.” He looked at Dumbledore. “The time for secrets has passed, old man. You have to be open with your allies and friends, or you will find yourself on the outside looking in,” Harry stated harshly.

Dumbledore removed his half-moon glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Harry, you are very young,” he started.

“My age has nothing to do with your abysmal leadership skills.”

Slipping the glasses back into place, the headmaster gave Harry a hard look. “When you have reached my age, you will see that there are many ways to lead, my boy.”

“I'm not `your boy', any longer, Albus Dumbledore,” Harry spat. He'd taken all of the old man's condescension he would. No longer held back by his lack of experience or the threat of Dumbledore gaining control of him, Harry stared him down. “The only thing that matters now is coming up with a strategy to end the threat of Voldemort once and for all.”

“Just leave that to me, Harry,” Dumbledore said soothingly.

Severus shook his head; the old fool couldn't see that Potter had come into his own. This was not the inexperienced young man that had so readily turned to the headmaster for advice. Potter had reached his full potential, and he was a force to be reckoned with. He looked forward to Harry showing the old man the truth.

“I will not,” Harry said flatly. “You have had decades to deal with this, and still Voldemort is a threat.” With a glare at the headmaster, Harry spat contemptuously, “You expected a child to fight your battle for you based on a prophecy from an incompetent fraud.”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said sharply. “It may be your destiny to defeat Voldemort, but there is no way you are capable of leading this fight.”

Severus marveled at the ignorance of the headmaster. Dumbledore would not admit that Harry had any purpose beyond that of a weapon. “When will you realize, you obstinate old fool, that Potter is not one of your blind followers,” Severus spat, “but, in fact, the leader with the clear vision needed to win this war?"

“I am the head of the Order of the Phoenix,” Dumbledore thundered as he rose to his feet. “And as such, I say this discussion is over.”

Harry nodded to himself. “So be it,” he said softly. Raising his head, he smiled softly as Severus and Devlin strode to his side and flanked him. Looking around the room, Harry caught the eyes of several Order members. “I won't be back,” he stated firmly. “You are welcome to continue using the house.” With one last look around him, Harry said intently, “Those of you that wish to assist with the destruction of Lord Voldemort and his Horcruxes may get word to me at Sinister Place.”

Harry and his companions walked to the door. Looking over his shoulder, Harry held the headmaster's eyes. “This isn't over, old man. Not by a long shot.” Turning away, Harry Potter strode from 12 Grimmauld Place with his head held high. He did not look back again.

Leadership

Mid-August 1999

The deep currant colored potion simmered gently. Severus gave it a final stir, and then extinguished the fire. Selecting a vial from the shelves along the wall, Severus bottled the potion and set it aside to cool. He quickly cleaned up the makeshift lab he'd set up in one of Harry's spare bedrooms.

When he'd finished, the bottles were cool to the touch, and Severus carefully placed them in his kit. Satisfied with the quality of the pain draught, he turned his thoughts to Harry. In the time since the disastrous Order meeting, the brat had been abnormally quiet. During the day Severus scarcely saw his lover, but at night Harry turned to him with a desperate sort of passion. Severus was at loss as to what to do, so he waited, and hoped the brat would snap out of it.

A brown barn owl flew through an open window and perched on a drying rack. Severus growled irritably at the owl, removed the message, and shooed the creature out of the room. Recognizing Devlin's handwriting, Severus quickly unrolled the parchment and read the message.

When he'd finished reading, Severus gazed thoughtfully at the cooling potion and tapped the note on his thigh. Armed with this information, he decided that Potter's mood had gone on long enough. It was time to confront the brat and make him talk.

Making his way through the house, Severus wasn't surprised to find Harry once again holed up in the training room, playing with his daggers. The young man had spent much of his time doing that lately. Severus could see that it had a calming effect on Harry and didn't comment on it. Taking care to ensure the brat heard his entrance, Severus waited till the daggers were safely stowed away, then spoke. “I would like to speak with you. Would you care for a drink on the porch?”

Harry wrinkled his brow at Severus' serious tone, but nodded and followed the older man outside. Accepting the glass he was handed, Harry sat on the swing and waited for Severus to begin.

“I'm aware that you've had a great deal on your mind lately,” Severus said as he sat beside Harry. “I have refrained from prying, but I have been…” he struggled with the word for a moment, “…concerned.”

Harry smiled softly at the confession and shifted so his thigh rested against Severus'. “I know I've been distracted,” he agreed. “I've been doing a lot of thinking.”

Relieved that Harry was talking again, Severus slipped an arm around the young man's back and nestled him under his chin. “Would you be willing to share these thoughts?” Severus asked cautiously.

Snuggling closer to his lover's warmth, Harry sighed. “I don't want to be a leader,” he said forlornly. “I don't think I could ever send you or the Bar into a dangerous situation.”

Severus simply held Harry tightly and offered his silent support.

“I can't lose you,” Harry said roughly.

Kissing the black locks, Severus reassured his lover, “You will not lose me, Harry. I've been fighting this war since before you were born; I've survived thus far and have every intention of making it through alive.”

Harry looked at Severus doubtfully, but dropped that line of thought. No doubt Severus didn't appreciate Harry's worry on his behalf. His thoughts turned inward for a moment, and then he spoke again. “And the whole thing with Hermione made me realize how much Dumbledore has manipulated my life.”

At Severus' questioning `hmm', Harry explained. “I trusted him to do what was best for everyone, even after Sirius died. But now I think that he was just doing what he had to in order for me to become his weapon.”

Harry felt another kiss land on his head, and sipped his drink to moisten his throat. “It hurts,” he admitted quietly.

Damning the old fool again, Severus hugged Harry to him fiercely. “The headmaster is an idiot,” he spat. “Do not let him cause you to doubt yourself. You are a far better man than he is.”

“But what if he's right?” Harry demanded. “What if I'm not capable of leading this fight? Who would follow a nineteen year old boy into battle?”

“Potter,” Severus started gruffly, “you are not a boy. I do not have relationships with children.” He didn't know how much longer he could be considerate. The brat was obviously upset, and Severus had no idea how to help.

“Fine,” Harry snapped. “I'm old enough to fuck, but how does that make me mature enough to lead an army?” He dropped his head to Severus' chest. The older man didn't seem to understand Harry's point. “I never asked for any of this to happen,” he mumbled.

Severus heard Harry's muttered words, but didn't know how to respond. He held the younger man close, hoping somehow that his presence would be enough. Several minutes passed in silence when Severus felt something wet fall onto his hand. After a moment he realized it was a tear. Staring down at his lover's bent head, Severus felt shocked. Harry never cried.

Realizing how distressed the young man must be to actually cry, Severus simply laid his chin on Harry's head and held him. He was furious, but he didn't know who with: Harry for crying or the headmaster for precipitating this loss of control.

After several minutes, Harry lifted his head and discreetly wiped his eyes. He was surprised that Severus hadn't commented on his bawling like a child. Uncomfortable at his show of weakness, Harry stood and muttered, “I'm going to go train some more.”

Narrowing his eyes at Potter's back, Severus came to a decision. The brat's melancholy couldn't be permitted to last any longer. Severus didn't think he'd be able to handle any more tears. “Let me tell you this, Potter,” Severus snapped. “When you get over your self-pity, I will follow you into hell itself.” Tossing Devlin's letter on the table, Severus drawled, “And so, apparently, will half the Order.”

Severus stalked past Harry. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.”

Staring at his lover's retreating back, Harry dropped back onto the swing. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Sprawled out on the floor in the training room, Harry was talking to Saoirse, trying to make sense of his confused thoughts. The little snake was a good listener and no one would overhear his whining in Parseltongue. At first he'd been angry at Severus for accusing him of self-pity, but then he realized the older man was right. I have been wallowing in my fears instead of trying to deal with them, he admitted to himself. After that acknowledgement, he was determined to overcome his fears, and talking with the snake was helping.

He was unaware of how much time had passed, but the sun was low in the sky, so Harry thought it was probably late in the afternoon. Hedwig flew into the room and dropped a rolled up note on his head. Rolling his eyes at his familiar, Harry read the message and groaned. Apparently Severus was still peeved. The note read:

Devlin has arranged a meeting with your new followers at six. I will meet you there.

S.

Harry scrubbed a hand across his face and muttered, “Well, fuck. This is going to be a nightmare.” A glance at the clock showed he had enough time for a quick shower, so he hurried off to clean up and change.

Thirty minutes later Harry stepped out of the Floo into the entryway of Sinister Place. No one appeared to greet him, so he headed for the library where the Bar usually congregated. Passing the sitting room, he noticed a movement. Peeking in the doorway, he saw that Ginny was alone in the room. “Hey, Ginny,” he said easily. “Do you know where everyone's gathering?”

Ginny turned to Harry with a predatory gleam in her eye. “In the library, I think,” she answered softly. “But, Harry, can I talk to you a minute? Alone?”

With a watchful air, Harry agreed. If Ginny was serious about stepping away from Dumbledore, he'd answer any questions she had. They needed all the help they could get. Harry stepped into the room, but kept a healthy distance between them.

Ginny looked around furtively, and gestured Harry closer. “It's kinda private,” she said. “I don't want my brothers to hear.”

He could hear the twins laughing, so he joined Ginny at the window. She took a step closer and leaned up like she wanted to whisper to him. The next thing Harry knew, Ginny had her arms around his neck and was trying to press a kiss to his lips.

Standing in shock for a moment, Harry could only stare at Ginny. Shaking his head, he tried to pull away, but she wouldn't release him. He wasn't sure what to do; he didn't want to hurt her, so he lifted his hands to pry her loose.

Severus walked into the room, and saw the pair. He looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. “Potter,” he growled warningly. The brat smiled sheepishly, shrugged and went back trying to pry the Weasley chit off him.

“We're busy,” Ginny said coldly. “You can talk to Harry later.”

Glaring at the twit, Severus asked, “Potter, do you want Ms. Weasley's hands on you?”

Still struggling with Ginny, who seemed to have devolved several new hands, Harry snapped, “You know I don't.”

Ginny stopped trying to climb him and gave him a crestfallen look. “But, Harry,” she protested, “we belong together. Can't you see that?”

Finally wrenching free from her, Harry stepped out of her reach. “Ginny, I don't want you,” he said gently. “Frankly, I wouldn't be able to trust you. Not after what you did to me.”

“I love you,” she cried reaching out for Harry again.

Severus took a menacing step forward. “You know nothing of love, little girl,” he spat. “Your obsession with Potter has nothing in common with love; a foolish child such as yourself cannot even comprehend his needs, let alone meet them.”

Harry watched Severus with shock. The older man might claim he had little understanding of love, but it was obvious to Harry that Severus knew a great deal about what Harry needed. However much he agreed with Severus' sentiments, Harry couldn't in good conscience allow it to continue. “Severus, that's enough,” he said softly.

“Stay out of this, Potter,” Severus warned. Turning back to the Weasley girl, Severus snarled, “It would behoove you to refrain from any further attempts to sink your claws into Potter.” With a sinister twitch of his lips, he drawled, “Or I will be forced to remove them, permanently.”

Ginny looked at Harry, shock evident in her eyes. “You're shagging Snape?” she asked incredulously.

Chuckling softly, Harry admitted, “As often as possible.”

“But why?” she whined. “You should be with me. I have it all planned, first we'll…”

Either the chit was truly dense or she had more tenacity than was healthy. Either way, Severus was finished trying to reason with her. Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he paused a moment to think of the most appropriate spell to use.

Harry took a step forward to stop Severus, when Luc strolled into the room. The blonde man quickly sized up the situation and for once didn't make it worse. Luc threw a wink at Harry, and then went to Ginny's side. “Ginny. May I call you Ginny? I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

Seemingly aware of the danger she'd been in, Ginny allowed Luc to steer her from the room, much to Harry's relief. Cursing possible allies was not a good policy, even ones as obnoxious as Ginny had become.

Leaning against the wall, Harry let out a relieved sigh and looked at Severus. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked quietly.

Severus glared at the empty doorway and reluctantly put away his wand. Facing Potter, he shook his head at the younger man's question. “I was not angry with you, merely the situation,” he explained. “I don't know how to help you and it frustrates me.”

Smiling softly, Harry offered, “It meant a great deal to me that you were just there.”

Crossing the room in three strides, Severus pulled Harry against him and held him tight. “I'll always be there,” he vowed. Severus ignored the fact that someone could walk in at any moment, and that there was an important meeting waiting for them, as he tried to give Harry what he needed.

Harry laid his head on Severus' shoulder and inhaled the soothing scent of his lover. Slipping his arms around the taller man's waist, he let Severus comfort him. After several moments, Harry murmured, “All I ever wanted was just to be normal.”

Grasping Harry's shoulders, Severus pushed back so he could look into Harry's eyes. “You will never be normal,” he said flatly. At his words a bleak expression flashed across his lover's face, and Severus swore. “Damn those Muggles. Potter… Harry, being different does not make you a freak.”

Determined that this time Harry would understand and believe him, Severus growled, “You are unique, remarkable, and most importantly… mine.” He swooped down and captured Harry's lips in a searing kiss. Pulling the young man against his body, Severus tried to put how extraordinary he thought Harry was into the kiss.

Harry was lost in Severus' kiss; he could feel the passion rolling off the older man and surrendered to it. Maybe being normal wasn't that important after all.

Eventually Severus released him; they did have a great deal to do and, as much as he regretted it, Harry understood. The older man spent the next few minutes explaining the plan the Bar had devised to assure the loyalty of those present for the meeting.

“Veritaserum?” Harry questioned.

Rolling his eyes, Severus impatiently explained, “It's only one drop, brat. It's only good for approximately twenty minutes, more than enough time to determine if they are being truthful or not.”

Pacing restlessly, Harry quickly thought it over. After a moment he turned to Severus. “I guess it's necessary,” he conceded reluctantly. “But I think you should let me propose it.”

“Indeed,” Severus drawled.

Harry took one look at his lover's smug expression and grumbled, “Prat, that was your intention all along.”

Severus smirked at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

“Let's get this over with,” Harry said with a huff. Still muttering about Slytherin bastards under his breath, he strode from the room and headed for the library.

Stifling a smile, Severus trailed after his lover. He still enjoyed winding Harry up − the young man's response was always rousing. Watching Harry walk down the hall, Severus lifted his brow in admiration and mentally added, And so is his magnificent arse.

Harry stopped just inside the library and looked around the room. He wasn't surprised to see most of the Weasleys, though he was sad to note that Ron hadn't come. Remus and Tonks he'd expected due to their recent conversations, but Kingsley Shacklebolt was an unexpected addition. There were a couple of members whose names he couldn't remember, but he was pleased to see them anyway. But the biggest surprise of the evening was Minerva McGonagall, sitting primly in the Bar's library.

Hesitating in the doorway, Harry was still nervous about walking into the limelight. Severus leaned down and whispered, “You can do this, Harry. I believe in you.” Then the git shoved him into the room.

Stumbling a couple of steps forward, Harry glared at Severus over his shoulder. The older man smirked and drifted to a corner, joining Vane. I hate public speaking, Harry thought grumpily. He took a deep breath and faced the crowd. “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he began.

Looking at each person present, Harry continued, “I am pleased to see so many of you here.” Catching McGonagall's and Kingsley's eyes, he added with a smile, “Some of you quite unexpected.”

“But enough of that. Let's get down to business,” Harry announced. “Unfortunately, because of Dumbledore's manipulative nature, I have to ask each of you to prove your loyalty.”

Fred jumped to his feet. “Do you want us to…”

“…Slay a dragon for you?” George finished at his brother's side.

Harry chuckled. “Nothing like that. Sit down, you two.” He gestured to Devlin who brought to him a vial of clear liquid. “One drop of Veritaserum is all I'm asking.” A quick glance around the room showed several uneasy faces, so Harry offered, “I'll go first. You'll have twenty minutes to ask about my motivations. Sound fair?”

After several moments of whispered conversation, the group agreed. Well aware the truth serum would render him disoriented, Harry pulled a chair to the center of the room and allowed Remus to place a single drop on his tongue. Then the questions began. They were what he'd expected: questions about the Black magic, Parseltongue and his plans for Voldemort. As a precaution, Devlin had been instructed to silence him if his answer would reveal sensitive information.

With only a couple of minutes of Veritaserum remaining, the group fell to asking meaningless questions, and Severus turned his attention back to his conversation with Vane. A moment later a question from the twins caught his attention.

“Hey, Harry,” George called, “is it true…”

“…That you're buggering Snape?” finished Fred.

A shocked silence filled the room. “Well, only the once so far,” Harry admitted. The Veritaserum compelled him to add, “Mostly he buggers me.” Choked laughter followed his answer.

Severus closed his eyes momentarily, trying to control his temper, but the effort was useless. A flick of his wrist and his wand was out, and he silently cast Stolidus Quaeaudio. Fred and George Weasley's eyes widened. Fred had been struck deaf, and George mute. Molly humphed and declared, “Should have thought of that years ago.”

Devlin led Harry out of the room, much to Severus' relief. The brat was sure to be mortified when the Veritaserum left his system. He glared daggers at Vane, who was doing a poor job of concealing his laughter. Severus strode to the front of the room and drawled coldly, “Would anyone else care to pry into my personal life?” Everyone glanced at the strangely silent twins and shook their heads. No one would risk the ex-Death Eater's wrath.

“Then perhaps we can proceed,” Severus snapped. “You will be informed of all we know about the Horcruxes. Teams will then be formed to locate the ones still hidden.” He paused a moment. When there were no objections, he continued, “Those not tasked with identifying Horcruxes will either research certain objectives or work with the Bar on analyzing the Death Eaters and their movements. Are there any questions?”

No one spoke up. “Very good, then one at a time, join Potter and Devlin in the sitting room for the Veritaserum. We will meet back here when that is finished.”

Insanity and Purity

Mid-August 1999

The summer constellations, Sagittarius and Scorpius were barely visible over the horizon, Severus noted distractedly as he gazed out the window. The library of Sinister Place was crowded, the first person to join Harry and Devlin had left the room a moment ago. Wishing Kingsley luck with those two, Severus watched the remaining group in the reflection of the glass. He swallowed a sigh when he noticed a familiar red head approaching.

“Molly,” he greeted the woman warily. His patience with the Weasleys was wearing thin.

Seeming to ignore his tone, Molly Weasley stopped at his side and waited till he turned to face her. “I want to talk to you about Harry,” she began without preamble.

Snorting disdainfully, Severus rolled his eyes. I suppose I should have expected this, he thought glumly. “Have you come to inform me of exactly how unfit I am to touch your precious savior?” he drawled bitterly. “Or perhaps you'd rather berate me for taking up with a man young enough to be my son?” He glared at her silently, challenging the woman to pry into his life. He would not tolerate yet another Weasley intruding on his relationship with Potter.

Molly frowned at him. “Not at all, Severus,” she said, patting his arm soothingly. “I simply wanted to tell you that I've never seen Harry so happy.” With a gentle smile, she continued, “I think you'll be good for each other.”

It took immense willpower to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock. Severus stared at Molly; his eyes searched hers till he saw the truth. She was truly happy for them. Quickly composing himself, Severus inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said tightly.

Waving away his gratitude, Molly patted his arm again. Then she smiled like the mother lioness she was and added, “But if you hurt him, you'll answer to me, Severus Snape.” As she turned to walk away, she called over her shoulder, “And I'll make what you did to the twins look like a schoolboy's prank.”

Shaking his head, Severus watched Molly walk away and join her husband. Perhaps we should set Molly Weasley on the Dark Lord, he thought with dark humor.

Once the Veritaserum left his system, Harry dropped his head into his hands and groaned. I can't believe I said that, he groused internally. A cut crystal glass of water entered his vision; he snatched the glass and glared at Devlin. “Why didn't you silence me?” he demanded.

Shrugging, Devlin crossed the room and sat regally on the couch. “It wasn't sensitive information,” he said nonchalantly.

“Not sensitive?” Harry looked at Devlin incredulously. “My sex life is not open for public consumption,” Harry said hotly.

Devlin arched an eyebrow. “Are you upset that your relationship with Severus was made public?” Without waiting for Harry to reply, he continued, “Or perhaps you're distressed to have it known that you do most of the bending over?” Devlin leaned back in his seat and smirked smugly as he added, “Doesn't quite fit your `warrior' image.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry studied Devlin's face. The arse is fucking with me, Harry realized. His lips turned up in a malicious grin. Without giving Devlin time to react, Harry quickly flung a ball of Black flames at the older man. “You git,” he growled. “You shouldn't screw with me like that, can't ever tell when you're serious.”

His aim was true; the fire hit Devlin in the chest.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Devlin yelped. “Damn it, that was hot, you deranged little shite.”

Harry howled with laughter when Devlin lost his customary precise dictation. In between gasps of mirth, Harry panted, “That'll teach you to pull that again.”

The door opened and Harry struggled to compose himself; the glare Devlin shot him didn't help in the least. Still fighting to keep the grin off his face, Harry greeted Kingsley Shacklebolt.

With a relived sigh, Harry shut the front door of Sinister Place behind the last of his guests. He returned to the library where Severus and the Bar were waiting for him. Dropping heavily onto the loveseat beside Severus, Harry let his head fall back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A vial of blue liquid entered his vision. Harry turned to Severus and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It's a headache draught, brat,” Severus said impatiently. “One you should be familiar with after all this time.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry downed the potion. After a couple of moments, his headache eased. Lifting his head, he discovered all eyes were on him. “What? Do I have `stare at me' tattooed on my forehead?” he grumbled.

Gabriel perked up and offered, “I'd be happy to go with you if you want a new tattoo, Harry.”

“Potter does not need yet more body art,” Severus growled. Glaring at Harry, he asked, “Perhaps you would be willing to explain why Shacklebolt was unceremoniously escorted out of here?”

Pushing his hair out of his face, Harry sighed and said simply, “Dumbledore sent him.”

There were murmurs from the group and Devlin chuckled. “I've never seen anyone so bloody quick with an `Obliviate' before,” he admitted.

“You Obliviated him?” Sebastian asked with a choked laugh.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I couldn't just let him go running back to Dumbledore, could I?”

With a thoughtful expression, Vane asked, “He admitted his loyalties under the Veritaserum?”

“The potion wasn't effective on him,” Devlin said with a sneer. “The bastard had taken the antidote before hand.”

Vane's brow wrinkled as he frowned. “That's not good,” he started, “that means Dumbledore guessed we would be testing them.” He turned to Devlin and raised his eyebrow. “If the Veritaserum didn't work, how did you discover his lies?”

Devlin smirked and drawled, “The old man neglected to teach his spy Occlumency.”

Not surprised that Dumbledore sent a spy, Severus gave the conversation half his attention and contemplated the problem of Ginny Weasley. The chit's obsession with Harry seemed extreme, far more than simple unrequited love. It bordered on a mental disorder. He turned to Harry and asked, “And how did Ms. Weasley's interview go?”

Still uncomfortable with that interview, Harry sighed. “It was pretty strange,” he admitted. “I never knew there could be such a thing as too loyal.”

Devlin snorted. “That is an understatement.” He stood and poured himself a drink. After taking a sip, he expounded, “The girl tried to swear her undying loyalty to Harry by cutting open her palm for a blood oath.” The memory still made him wince.

Severus paled. A blood oath was powerful magic; it bound both parties to the terms of the oath. He turned on Devlin and demanded, “You did stop her, didn't you?”

Rolling his eyes, Devlin drawled, “No, Severus, I allowed Harry to be forever bound to the insane chit.”

Luc appeared shaken by the revelation as well. “Where would the offspring of a prominent light family even learn of a blood oath?” he asked incredulously.

Harry'd been thinking about that very thing since Ginny had attempted it. He had only one explanation. “Tom Riddle's diary.” It saddened him that it appeared Voldemort's influence on Ginny was felt to this day.

Taking in Harry's pensive expression, Severus offered quietly, “Perhaps if we inform Molly Weasley, she would keep an eye on the girl.”

With a grateful smile, Harry nodded. “That would work. In the meantime, we'll have to keep her away from anything sensitive.”

Relieved Harry didn't seem to be taking the girl's problem on himself, Severus changed the subject. “I trust Minerva's interview was satisfactory?”

Knowing how much Severus valued Professor McGonagall's friendship, Harry grinned and said, “She was brilliant.” Harry stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. With a sideways look at Severus he explained, “She's going to spy on the old man for us.”

Severus arched a brow and drawled, “The head of Gryffindor is going to become a spy?”

Harry Potter's new organization, which he'd refused to name, was very efficient. Within a week they had identified another Horcrux and pinpointed a possible location. As he looked over the assembled group, Harry could only shake his head. This was how the Order should have been proceeding. Shaking off his thoughts, he turned his attention to the assembled group.

It was not a gathering he'd ever anticipated seeing work together, but Harry felt confident in their abilities. Remus, Bill, Charlie, Vane, Luc, Devlin, Severus and himself were planning to head to Muggle London to the orphanage where Tom Riddle had spent his formative years. Hermione had the brilliant idea that he could have hidden a Horcrux there. After viewing the headmaster's memory again, Harry couldn't fault her logic.

With one last appreciative look at Severus' lean form, temptingly displayed in jeans, Harry spoke up, “Everyone ready to go?”

At the murmurs of agreement, Harry held out a battered tin plate. When they were all touching it, Harry managed to choke out Hermione's password, “Love conquers all.” He saw Severus' disgusted sneer as the Portkey jerked them away.

They landed in a dusty room of the abandoned orphanage. While Harry had learned to exit the Floo gracefully, he still hadn't mastered Portkey travel. He stumbled into Charlie who caught him around the waist and steadied him. Hearing the low growl from Severus, Harry quickly righted himself and stepped away from Charlie with a smile.

Looking around the empty room, Harry felt pity for the children that had grown up in such a depressing place. There were a few windows high on the wall, and even when they had been clean it would have been a dim room. From what he remembered from Hermione's report, there was no garden here. The whole street was close-packed together.

Putting aside his observations, Harry turned to the assembled group. They were chatting quietly and looking over the room. “All right, you lot. Let's get this done,” Harry said. He quickly split the group up with two people for each of the four floors. Once everyone was heading off to their assigned areas, Harry and Severus walked up to the fourth floor.

“Potter, tell me again, why did you decree that we do the top story?” Severus groused as he climbed the narrow stairs.

From his place behind Severus, Harry said flippantly, “'Cause I wanted to watch you climb the stairs and oogle your arse.” Harry chuckled when Severus glared at him over his shoulder. He heard the older man mumble something about `impertinent brat' and `should have worn my robes'.

Deciding to stop aggravating his lover, Harry stopped Severus with a hand on his arm. When Severus turned to look at him with a glower, Harry said seriously, “I have a feeling about the attic.” With a grin he added, “And aren't you the one that said I had good instincts?”

Severus rolled his eyes; he was beginning to regret ever telling the brat such a thing. He glared at Harry's arm restraining him and asked tartly, “Then perhaps we might proceed?”

With a shrug, Harry released Severus and gestured for him to continue. Shortly they reached the top of the stairs. While Severus searched the main area, Harry located the rickety attic ladder. As soon as he climbed it, he felt the magic surrounding the Horcrux.

The reek of Dark Magic was overwhelming, and when he opened his senses it was nauseating. In all his training with Luc and the Fianna, Harry had never encountered anything like what was in the attic.

He hastily climbed back down and shouted for Severus. When the older man joined him, Harry admitted quietly, “I have a bad feeling about this.” Pulling the sweaty strands of hair off the back of his neck, Harry turned towards the stairs. “See what you make of it, I'm going to call the others.”

At the top of the stairs, Harry called up the group with the help of a `Sonorus'.

The small attic was crowded when they'd all reassembled. Turning to his Dark Arts experts, Harry asked Luc and Severus, “Figured out what it is?”

The only visible sign from Severus was a hint of strain around his eyes, but it was enough to let Harry know the curse was bad.

Luc cleared his throat twice, and then sighed. “He used Ulcisciors as protectors.”

Bill and Devlin paled, but a quick glance around him showed that Harry wasn't the only one confused. The other seemed equally clueless as Harry.

“What exactly does that mean?” Vane asked.

“And can we defuse it?” Charlie interjected.

Looking shaken, Luc explained, “Somehow Voldemort figured out a way to force the Ulcisciors to do his bidding.”

“But what is an Ulciscior?” Harry demanded impatiently.

When Luc seemed unable to continue, Severus stepped forward. “Potter, an Ulciscior is the mutated soul of a murder victim. Under normal circumstances these souls would search out their murderer and extract their vengeance. How the Dark Lord contrived to bind them, I have no idea.”

Seemingly composed once more, Luc took over. “Ulcisciors are usually children. They can't understand why they were killed and it warps their soul. Unlike ghosts, they are not afraid to move on; instead they are searching for a reason, for satisfaction if you will.”

“Okay. So, Voldemort used these Ulcisciors to guard his Horcrux,” Harry started. “If we release them, won't they just go after their killer?”

“That's the most disturbing part of this,” Luc said with a sigh. “The monster convinced these particular Ulcisciors that their murderer lies within the Horcrux.” He uncharacteristically pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, mussing the perfect strands. “The Ulcisciors will kill any attempting to take their vengeance from them.”

Silence fell over the group as everyone was lost in thought. Pacing restlessly as he racked his brains for a solution, Harry mused aloud, “There must be a way to defeat them.”

Bill spoke for the first time since entering the room. “There is.” Looking over the group, he added, “But I doubt any of us are capable of it.”

Frowning, Harry stopped pacing. “What?” he asked incredulously. “Surely between all of us we could do it,” he said confidently.

Shaking his head, Bill said sadly, “To send a Ulciscior on to the next world requires the use of a purifying fire.”

Conjuring a ball of Black flames, Harry grinned. “Just point me in the right direction. I'll purify them.”

Severus snorted. “It is not a matter of power, brat. A purifying fire is also known as white fire. Only those without blood on their hands can call it forth.”

Harry let the flames dissipate. “Shite. Where in Merlin's name will we find a person like that?” He whirled around and faced Remus. “Moony! You've never killed anyone, right?”

Remus smiled wryly. “Sorry, kiddo. I'm a werewolf; my very nature precludes the necessary purity.”

“Well, fuck,” Harry drawled. “We're all either murderers or dark creatures,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe Hermione can do it.”

Luc cleared his throat. With a tinge of red high on his cheekbones, he said softly, “I can conjure a white fire.”

Eyes wide, Harry turned to Luc. “You? Pure?”

“I have never participated, physically, in any of the Bar's more sordid activities,” Luc said regally.

“But the Dark Arts? Wouldn't that, I don't know…corrupt you?” Harry asked.

Luc simply raised an eyebrow and glared. Devlin chuckled, and whispered to Harry, “Don't you recall our conversation when Severus and Luc were hexing one another?”

Harry gave Devlin a blank look. Then he remembered; Devlin had said, “Luc only studies the Dark Arts. Severus uses them.”

Turning to Luc, Harry couldn't resist taunting the blonde, “In all these years, you've never been tempted to dabble?”

“No,” Luc admitted reluctantly. “There was never any cause for it.”

Devlin shushed them and turned to Bill. “Putting aside questions about Luc's purity,” he said with a smirk. “What do we need to do?”

Bill quickly outlined the procedure. Severus and Luc consulted and agreed that it would work on the modified Ulcisciors. The group formed a circle around Luc. A slight flush still riding his cheekbones, Luc stripped out of his clothes. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn't help but grin behind his hand. Apparently Luc could blithely climb naked into Harry's bed, but stripping down to his skin in front of a group gave him pause.

Forcing his attention back on the goal, Harry spoke to the group. “Okay, remember. Your shielding charms need to form a dome, make sure it merges with both your neighbors.” Keeping his eyes on Luc's face, he gave the blonde a reassuring smile. “Just let us know when you're ready.”

Luc nodded sharply, and Harry gave him a thumbs up, then concentrated on his shielding charm. No matter how much Luc annoyed him at times, the other man always came through when it counted, and Harry didn't doubt he would do so now.

Feeling the shielding charms lock into place, Harry nodded to let Luc know they were ready. The older man took a deep breath, and then removed the floor board. Harry gasped as two gaunt, strangely substantial figures rose from the floor. At first Harry couldn't make out their faces, but their size revealed that they were children. Disgusted at the lengths Voldemort would go to obtain immortality, Harry pushed away his outrage and concentrated on holding the shield. They only attack those with blood on their hands, he reminded himself. Luc should not be in any danger.

The Ulcisciors hovered above the floor for a moment; slowly they seemed to perceive a threat to the Horcrux. They became more solid, and their skin took on a bluish tint. Suddenly they charged the shield; as one bounced off the section Harry was holding, he was horrified to see that they had no eyes. The sightless creatures began shrieking, the sound sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Completely unnerved, but desperately trying not to show it, Harry looked to Severus. Seeing his lover holding firmly with a determined glare, Harry felt the terror settle back. It wasn't gone, but manageable now. Give me dementors or, hell, Voldemort any day, he thought ruefully. But keep these creatures away from me.

While Harry was distracted, Luc had begun conjuring the white fire. Slowly the flames began filling the dome. Harry finally realized why his playing with the Black flames unsettled people. It was bloody disconcerting to think of Luc in there with all that fire, even if it wouldn't harm him.

The screams from the Ulcisciors reached a fevered pitch, and Harry resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. Sweat started pouring down the back of his neck, and it seemed to go on for hours. The sudden silence took Harry by surprise. He wanted to drop the shield but knew he couldn't risk it. Fearing that the others felt the same, Harry said loudly, “Just keep holding it. We can't let go till Luc gives us the all clear.”

A sudden horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he turned to Severus. “Those things can't possess him, can they?” he asked in a whisper.

“No,” Severus said shortly. The strain of holding the charm showed in his voice.

Relieved, Harry nodded. The flames inside the circle began dying down; Harry peered through them, trying to locate Luc. No matter that he'd been told that the purifying fire didn't take a lot of effort, Harry was still worried about Luc. He finally spotted the other man. Luc was still standing in the center of the circle; the Ulcisciors were gone.

Harry watched as Luc bent down and pulled a dusty black feather from beneath the floorboard. When the flames were completely extinguished, Luc walked towards Harry and gestured for the shield to be dropped. Harry gratefully let go of the charm, and scooped Luc's robes off the floor. He exchanged them for the feather.

Looking closely at the Horcrux, Harry realized it was a quill. He was unfamiliar with the type of feather it was made from. Turning it over in his hands, Harry felt slightly let down; he'd been expecting something more from the only known artifact of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Seeing the frown on Harry's face, Severus guessed the brat's thoughts. Approaching the younger man, he traced a reverent finger down the quill. “It's a corvus feather,” he said softly. “Corvus is Latin for raven. They are often associated with Dark Magic, but in truth they have more to do with wisdom and prophetic dreams,” he explained. “Ravenclaw was known for her visions and her wisdom. This quill is said to have been a gift from Slytherin.”

Grateful that the soul potion would not harm the quill, Severus took it from Harry and gently laid it on the floor. Pulling the stopper from the vial, he poured the potion over the feather and stood back. Parseltongue still turned him on, to his everlasting regret. One day Harry would realize it and then, Severus feared, the brat would use it mercilessly. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to find Devlin approaching them with a smug grin. Glaring at the other man, Severus swallowed a sigh. Potter might be oblivious to the effects the serpents' tongue had on him, but Devlin was entirely too observant.

Devlin didn't say anything, this time, but instead asked, “We all done here?”

Harry picked up the quill and joined them. “Yeah, the Horcrux is destroyed.” Handing the feather to Severus, Harry smiled. “Hey, there's only one Horcrux left,” he said brightly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “So eager to face the Dark Lord again?” he asked archly.

The brat turned those intense green eyes on him and said, “I just want to be able to get on with my life. With you.”

Severus was speechless.

A Dubious Welcome

September 1st, 1999

The scorching late summer sun reflected off the road in shimmering waves. A hot breeze stirred the air, but did nothing to cool things down. Grateful for the cooling charms that encircled the motorcycle, Harry watched the Muggles suffer in the unseasonable heat wave.

Riding the bike back to Hogwarts had been Harry's idea. Not that he needed the machine with him, but he was using it to delay their return. Neither he nor Severus was eager to see Dumbledore again. Professor McGonagall had informed them that the headmaster was quite put out with them both.

They hoped their last-minute arrival would limit the plans the old man could make. But Harry was discovering that an unsettled Severus Snape was not a pleasant traveling companion. The older man had barely said a word, other than to criticize Harry's `reckless Gryffindor' driving skills, the entire four hours they'd been riding.

They'd stopped in a fair-sized town for lunch and were now caught in the traffic caused by a funeral procession. Until they reached the outskirts of town and a deserted lane, Harry couldn't put the bike back in the air. Severus sat stiffly behind him on the bike, and Harry shook his head. Guess it was foolish to think the ride would help him relax. Shite, knowing Severus, the delay is making things worse.

Hot, tired, and worried about his lover, Harry wasn't all that comfortable either. They'd been stopped for a couple of minutes and the procession showed no signs of ending soon. Mentally cursing himself and Muggle burial habits, Harry lifted his much-abused arse off the bike and stretched.

He lowered himself back down and suddenly Severus' hands were on his hips. The older man shifted closer and lowered his head to Harry's ear.

Sitting behind Harry for hours on end, watching the brat's thighs flex as he controlled the heavy machine had distracted Severus all day. Seeing the young man stretch all those lovely muscles was the last straw. “If you leaned forward and stood like that again, do you know how easy it would be for me to slip inside you?” Severus asked huskily.

Harry bit his lower lip to hold back a moan. Severus' words went straight to his cock. “Severus,” he said pleadingly. “Not here.”

“Why not, Harry?” Severus pulled the young man more firmly against him, uncaring of the Muggles nearby. “I've seen the way these Muggles stare at you, they want you. The women are drawn to your bold masculinity, and the men to your untamed spirit. I would take you now, before them all, mark you as my own. Watch as they weep and mourn for what they'll never taste.”

Harry was nearly whimpering at Severus' eloquence. His lover had never been this vocal in his appreciation before and Harry was drowning in the silky voice. “What draws you?” Harry questioned.

Running a surreptitious hand over the denim covered curves in front of him, Severus whispered, “Besides your arse? Your fierce determination, your fire… everything about you draws me to you.”

The blare of a horn behind them jerked Harry out of the sensual pool Severus' words had created. His cock aching with unrelieved tension, Harry put the bike in gear and weaved through traffic. Harry's eyes flew over the landscape as they exited the town, desperately searching for an abandoned road.

Spotting an overgrown dirt trail leading to a copse of trees, Harry smiled. Turning off onto the tiny pathway, he guided the bike further in until he could no longer see the main road. Stopping the bike, Harry took a deep breath and then killed the engine. Throwing his leg over the machine, he stepped off and, keeping his back to Severus, walked to the trees.

The detour to the isolated woods didn't come as any surprise to Severus. But Harry getting off the bike did. Worried that perhaps he'd pushed the young man too far, Severus climbed off, and called softly, “Harry, what's wrong?”

Harry didn't answer; he simply kept walking deeper into the trees. After a moment, he stopped and turned on Severus. “You bastard,” he hissed. “Do you have any clue how bloody hard it is to steer that bike with a hard-on?”

Relieved Harry's only problem was one he could easily cure, Severus smirked. “Come closer, brat. We can remedy that.”

“No,” Harry said firmly, standing his ground. “You started this, now finish it.”

Severus' eyes heated as he stalked closer to the young man. “With pleasure,” he purred.

Reaching out his hand, Severus cupped the back of Harry's head and drew the young man closer. Lowering his head, he took his lover's lips in a passionate kiss. Thrusting his tongue between Harry's lips, Severus let his other hand drop to caress the arse he'd admired earlier.

Harry's hands tangled in his hair, and Severus growled low in his chest. Pulling the young man flush against him, he ran his tongue across the roof of Harry's mouth and reveled in his lover's whimper. Sliding his hands between their bodies, Severus deftly opened Harry's jeans.

The sudden freedom of his cock drew Harry's attention from the steamy kiss. When Severus' clever fingers closed around his aching flesh, Harry bit his lip. Needing more contact with his lover, he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. Going to work on Severus' button-down shirt, Harry growled, “I want you. Now.”

Chuckling at Harry's impatience, Severus complied. Pushing the young man's jeans down past his knees, he spun Harry around. “Brace yourself against the tree,” he ordered softly.

Head whirling with lust and the sudden reversal of his position, Harry blindly used the tree in front of him for support. Severus whispered a spell, and Harry felt cool slickness fill his arse. Long, talented fingers breeched him and Harry hissed. Fingers weren't what he wanted; he wanted Severus now. “Enough,” he snarled. “Just fuck me already.”

Slowly sliding into his lover, Severus hummed in pleasure. Harry was so tight, and fit him perfectly. Lowering his head to nip at the young man's neck, Severus continued his words from earlier. “I could have taken you in front of the Muggles,” he said lowly. Pulling back, he set a slow, steady rhythm. “Basked in their envy and your wanton moans.”

The heated words pouring into his ear set Harry's body aflame. Needing the tree for balance, Harry was unable to reach for his lover. The slow stokes weren't enough, but no matter how Harry wiggled or whimpered, Severus wouldn't increase his speed. The hard cock inside him seemed to meld with his prostrate and the intense pleasure kept building.

“Severus,” Harry growled. “Stop talking and put your back into it.” He clenched around his lover, trying to entice him into moving faster.

The squeezing around his cock caused Severus to hiss. “You want it hard?” he murmured. “Then by all means, allow me to satisfy you.”

Pulling out almost completely, Severus snapped his hips forward. Thrusting into his lover, he wrapped a hand around Harry's prick and stroked. His other hand splayed across the young man's chest as he held Harry tightly against him.

Harry dropped his head against Severus' shoulder and pushed back into each thrust. Turning his head, he nipped and licked at the tendons standing out on Severus' throat. The hot hand on his greedy cock pushed Harry even higher.

Feeling his balls tighten with his impending orgasm, Severus quickened his strokes on Harry's leaking cock. Moments later, Harry groaned his release, and Severus felt thick globs of hot liquid spill over his hand. The channel around him tightened, and Severus moaned. Thrusting hard again and again into the pliant body of his lover, Severus moaned as his release crashed through him.

Panting, Severus collapsed against his lover. After a few moments, when he'd regained his breath, he pulled his sated cock from Harry's arse. Pressing a lingering kiss to his lover's back, Severus shakily drew his wand and cast a cleaning spell over them both.

Pulling up his jeans, Harry leaned back against the tree, ignoring the rough bark at his back. Doing up his pants, he looked at Severus and smiled. “Not that I'm complaining,” he began. “But what was that all about?”

Harry watched Severus with amusement; even tucking his prick back into his trousers and doing up the buttons, the other man retained his reserved air. Once his slacks were closed the only evidence of their passion was a slight flush on Severus' cheeks. At his question one black brow arched up.

“Come on, Severus,” Harry said laughingly. “I'm not that stupid. Why did you provoke me, then shag me against a tree in the middle of the day?”

Severus shrugged unconcernedly. There were two reasons, but he wasn't sure of Harry's response to one. So he offered only the second. “Returning to Hogwarts is onerous for us both; I decided relaxation was in order.”

Harry eyed his lover shrewdly. He'd learned to read Severus over the years and the man was holding back on him. “And?” he prompted.

Sneering, Severus held his tongue. He didn't want to share the other reason. But Harry walked over and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and Severus felt his resolve weaken as it always did around the brat.

“Tell me, Severus,” Harry said softly.

Sighing, Severus wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close. When the younger man melted against him and tucked his head on Severus' shoulder, Severus said roughly, “I am aware of your doubts about your ability to lead, and Dumbledore's manipulations make it worse. I hoped that if I…” he paused. Saying the words aloud would make them real, but Harry deserved to hear them. For now it was as close as Severus could come to telling his lover how he felt. “…made love to you it would give you the confidence to ignore the old fool.”

Harry was silent for a moment, and Severus worried his words had been injudicious after all. A long moment passed, and then the young man squeezed him tightly and whispered, “Thanks.”

Several hours later they arrived at Hogwarts. Setting the bike down behind Hagrid's hut, Harry sighed. Severus had been right; coming back to Hogwarts was troubling to Harry on many levels. Not the least was the headmaster's tendency to make Harry underestimate himself. No matter how much he accomplished or learned, at times the old wizard could still make him feel like a child.

Severus stood silently, letting the young man collect himself, and Harry was grateful for his steadfast support. Vowing to stop letting Dumbledore disparage all his efforts, Harry squared his shoulders and started across the grounds with Severus at his side.

They entered through the huge front doors into a deserted hallway. The noise coming from the closed doors of the Great Hall signaled dinner was underway. With a bracing breath, Harry decided on a course of action. There was no need to be subtle at this point. Dumbledore was already aware of Harry's feelings towards him.

With a sideways look at Severus, Harry wiped the grin off his face. His lover wasn't going to like this, but Harry thought the benefits outweighed Severus' potential annoyance. A flick of his fingers and Hogwarts bowed to him once again. The double doors to the Great Hall slammed open forcefully.

Harry and Severus strolled into the hall with identical bored faces. Whispers followed their ascent to the head table. As they walked between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, the students fell silent. All eyes were watching the headmaster.

Dumbledore had stood at the bang of the doors. His normally innocuous expression was hard as he watched his wayward Defense Professor and his assistant casually stroll into the hall a week late.

Fighting to keep a smug smile at the old man's reaction off his face, Harry said nonchalantly, “Sorry we're late. Did we miss anything?”

With a stern air of contemplation, Dumbledore slowly sat back down. “Professor Snape, Apprentice Potter, we will discuss your tardiness after the feast.” He gestured to the two empty seats near the Slytherin House table. “Please be seated.”

Waving to Hermione and Professor McGonagall at the other end of the table, Harry followed Severus to their seats. Harry wasn't surprised when Severus took the end chair and left the one beside Hagrid for him. After greeting Hagrid, Harry turned his attention to the students. They had quieted down and were sneaking glances at the staff table. Harry grinned when he realized the kids were careful to avoid Severus' glare.

“Apprentice Potter, huh?” Harry mused aloud. He turned to Severus and grinned wickedly. “Does that mean I should call you `master'?”

Harry spent the remainder of the meal catching up with Hagrid and ignoring Dumbledore's speculative looks. After his standard beginning of the year speech, the headmaster had a few quiet words with McGonagall and left the hall. Harry turned to Severus and said softly, “That was too easy.”

“Indeed,” Severus agreed. Noticing Minerva heading their way, Severus nudged Harry to alert him to the deputy headmistress' approach. “I do believe the old man wishes to interrogate us in private.”

He was proven correct. “Severus, Harry,” McGonagall began with a twitch of her lips. “The headmaster asks that you join him in his office immediately. The password is Ice Mice.”

Aware he was under observation from the students, and not knowing who was reporting to Dumbledore, Harry smiled and nodded. As he walked away he turned back, “Professor, I don't know if you're aware, but I recently received my Transfiguration Mastery,” he began, “and I was wondering if you'd have time to discuss a couple of questions I had in regards to conjuring spells.” With a teasing smile, he added, “With your vast experience and innate skill, I'm certain you would have much to teach me.”

A slight flush rose on the stern woman's cheeks. “Away with you, Potter,” she said firmly. “I will let you know when I can meet with you.”

Flashing a wide smile, Harry followed Severus out of the hall. Satisfied he'd arranged a plausible reason to meet with his spy, Harry turned his attention to the upcoming meeting with Dumbledore.

“Allowing Luc to give you lessons in saccharine blandishments?” Severus asked snidely.

Easily keeping up with Severus' ground-eating stride, Harry laughed. “Jealous, Severus?” He elbowed the older man playfully. “Do you want to hear praise of your innate skills?”

Severus stopped suddenly and Harry looked up. The black eyes heated, and Harry swallowed hard.

“Your inability to speak earlier this afternoon was sufficient tribute to my skills,” Severus purred. With a smug smirk, he continued down the hall.

The dark rich tone went straight to Harry's cock. “Evil bastard,” Harry muttered as he caught up to his lover. Arousal warmed his cheeks and Harry vowed revenge.

Still caught up in planning his revenge, Harry was startled to realize they'd reached the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. He snickered at Severus' obvious distaste at the old man's password. Pushing aside his plans for later, Harry braced for the looming confrontation.

As they silently rode the stone steps, Severus reached out and squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly.

Knocking on the wooden door, Harry made sure his expression revealed nothing and that his Occlumency shields were firm.

“Come in, my boys,” Dumbledore called.

“Headmaster,” Harry offered curtly when he entered the room. Severus merely inclined his head in greeting.

From his seat behind the desk, Dumbledore gestured to the chairs before him. “Please, be comfortable.”

Resisting the impulse to roll his eyes, Harry waited until Severus chose a seat and then sat beside him.

Leaning back, Dumbledore clasped his hands loosely on the wide desk. For once the headmaster forwent the offer of tea or sweets and got straight to the point. “Why were you late?”

“I've been out of the country for the last nine months,” Harry began smoothly. “I had some personal business to attend to.”

With a resigned nod, Dumbledore said, “Very well, that explains your delay, but Severus…”

“Was kind enough to assist me,” Harry inserted blandly. “Otherwise I would still be quite busy.”

Frowning, Dumbledore turned to Severus. “You are aware of the policy that requires all teachers to arrive one week prior to start of term,” he said reproachfully.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That wasn't in my contract. Was it in yours?” he asked Severus.

Smirking, Severus drawled, “I do not recall such a requirement.”

“But your lessons plans need to be…” Dumbledore began.

“Have been taken care of,” Severus said as he drew a sheaf of papers from his pocket. Lightly tossing the plans on the desk, he added, “I believe you will find everything in order.”

As he shuffled through the papers, Dumbledore's brow furrowed. “These do seem to be sufficient,” he admitted reluctantly.

Tired of the false civility, Harry got to his feet. “Is that all, Headmaster?” he asked tiredly.

Turning a stern gaze to Harry, Dumbledore set the papers aside. “I must ask you to reconsider your ill-conceived stance on working with the Order.”

Severus snorted. They'd finally arrived at the real reason for this meeting: Dumbledore's ongoing inability to believe Harry could and would act on his own. He was looking forward to seeing the brat put the old fool in his place.

“Ill-conceived?” Harry repeated incredulously. Shaking his head at Dumbledore's continued ignorance, Harry gave the older man a sneer worthy of Severus. “In the short month since I last saw you, we not only destroyed another Horcrux, but identified nearly twenty previously unknown Death Eaters,” Harry said proudly.

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore said dismissively. “That brings us to your group of allies. Was it really necessary to Obliviate poor Kingsley?” he admonished.

“Yes,” Harry said bluntly. “I have no intention of allowing you to harass or belittle those who chose to side with me,” he said flatly. “I will protect my allies from any difficulties they face by supporting me.”

“You believe they need protection from me?” Dumbledore asked sadly.

Rolling his eyes disbelievingly, Harry said, “There's no doubt in my mind they need protection from your interference.”

Seeing the conversation was about to descend into a fatuous argument, and knowing the dogged tenacity of both men, Severus interrupted. “Headmaster, this contention is futile, you will never accept Potter's leadership,” he drawled. “Suffice to say what's done is done; now I would like to retire.”

Grateful for Severus' interruption, Harry turned to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he glared at Dumbledore. “Stay out of my way, Dumbledore, and I'll stay out of yours.”

Severus stood as well and joined Harry at the door. As the young man pulled the door open, the headmaster called out, “Allow me to show you your rooms, Harry.”

Frowning, Harry turned back. “I'm staying with Severus,” he said firmly.

Shaking his head, the headmaster said disparagingly, “Surely you don't wish to intrude on Severus' privacy, my boy. No, I have arranged rooms for you near the Gryffindor Tower.”

“I invited Potter to share my quarters,” Severus inserted smoothly. “I do not find his company displeasing,” he added with a smirk at the brat.

Biting back a grin, Harry allowed his lover to see the amusement in his eyes. For Severus to say his company was not displeasing was practically a declaration of love.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “Very well. I'll instruct the house-elves to prepare the guestroom.”

Harry stilled momentarily, and then let it go. There was no reason to divulge the truth of his relationship with Severus to the headmaster. He simply nodded and turned back to the door. Apparently, Severus didn't feel the same.

“That will not be necessary,” Severus said coolly.

The headmaster blinked twice. “I beg your pardon? I must have misunderstood,” he said slowly. “Do you intend to have Harry sleep on the couch?”

Severus snorted. “Only if he annoys me.”

“Hey,” Harry said indignantly. “Watch it, or you'll be sleeping on the couch.”

Blue eyes flicked from one to the other for a moment, and then Dumbledore sighed. “I see,” he said sadly. “Well, I'm afraid that I cannot allow unmarried couples to share quarters.”

Raising one black brow, Severus sneered. “Yet you were willing to allow it when you believed Potter would be sleeping in the guestroom.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Severus drawled, “If that's a new policy, I'm sure Vector and Sinistra are no longer sharing quarters.”

Dumbledore blanched, but seemed to rally. Though surprised at Severus' decision to tell the old man they were lovers, Harry had no intention of allowing Dumbledore to separate them. Especially since the old fool was doing it out of spite. “Either I stay with Severus, or I leave,” he declared.

“If Potter leaves, so do I,” Severus added coldly.

The blue eyes hardened. “You signed a contract…”

“I can afford to pay it off,” Harry said arrogantly. “Severus', too.”

“We seem to be at an impasse,” Dumbledore murmured. He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. Lifting his head, he leveled a stern look at Harry. “Very well, Mr. Potter. You may stay with Professor Snape,” he said coldly. “But I will be watching you both.”

Snorting, Harry opened the door and allowed Severus to walk out. As he pulled door closed, Harry added, “Watch yourself, old man. You don't want me as your enemy.”

Smiling, Harry walked out of his and Severus' bedroom and headed for the kitchen. A morning shower with his lover was an outstanding way to start the day, but Harry still wanted coffee. The first week of term had passed relatively uneventfully, and Harry was cautiously optimistic that the students at least would cooperate.

Still in only his towel, Harry carried two coffee cups towards the bedroom. He could hear Severus shutting off the shower, and Harry gave a thought to distracting the older man before Severus layered himself in robes. Passing through the sitting room, he caught sight of a familiar blonde head perusing Severus' library. With an internal sigh he pushed away his plans for the morning. Luc wouldn't invade their privacy without good reason.

“Severus locked the le Fey grimoire in his vault, Luc,” Harry said snidely. Luc had been trying for years to buy or steal that book from Severus.

The blonde turned and Harry stared in shock. Both ceramic mugs fell unnoticed from his hands.

“I own the original copy of le Fey's grimoire,” the blonde drawled. He disdainfully trailed his eyes over Harry's exposed body. “Despite your obvious attractions, I find your presumptuous use of that atrocious appellation frightfully boorish,” the blonde said with a sneer.

“Malfoy,” Harry spat. “How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded.

Lucius shrugged his elegantly robbed shoulders and smiled mockingly. “Severus and I have always been close.”

Harry watched the blonde warily. So far Malfoy had shown no signs of aggression, but Harry didn't trust him. When the blonde's hand drifted towards his pocket, Harry tensed. Malfoy casually drew his wand and twilled it along his fingers. Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's feet. Not waiting to see what spell the older man was casting, Harry wandlessly flung Malfoy back into a high-back chair. In less than a heartbeat, Harry had the man bound to the chair and disarmed.

“Severus,” Harry shouted. “Get out here. Now.”

Clad in only his trousers and his shirt still unbuttoned, Severus burst into the room. “Why in Merlin's name are you shouting?” he demanded irritably.

Harry simply pointed to their unexpected guest.

“Lucius,” Severus said sneeringly. “Well this is certainly an unpleasant and unwanted interruption.” His feet brushed against the broken crockery; he glanced down and sighed over his lost coffee. If he was going to be forced to deal with Lucius Malfoy, he didn't want to do it without caffeine. Deliberately ignoring the blonde, Severus cleaned up the spilled coffee and called, “Dobby.”

Entering the room with a pop, Dobby squealed when he saw Lucius. Edging behind Harry, he squeaked, “The bad master is here. He is scaring Dobby.”

Kneeling beside the distressed elf, Harry put his arm around Dobby's shoulder. “Don't worry about him,” he said reassuringly. “Can you go get Severus and me some coffee?” he asked gently.

Large misty green eyes stared up at Harry. Dobby nodded fiercely. “Dobby not be letting the bad master keep Dobby from his duties, Harry Potter.”

The elf left with another pop. Severus turned to Harry. “Potter, go put some clothes on.”

Standing back up, Harry glared at Malfoy. Lifting his hand, he added more rope to the bonds holding the blonde to the chair. While he knew Severus could handle himself, there was no reason to leave things to chance. “I'll be right back,” Harry said as he left the room.

Severus settled himself comfortably on the sofa and watched Lucius from the corner of his eye. The blonde sneered and stuck his nose in the air. Severus wanted to laugh. Malfoy's reaction to being at a disadvantage was the same as ever − haughty disdain.

Dobby popped back into the room with a heavy tray. A coffee urn, several cups, plates and a large dish of steaming croissants were balanced carefully on the elf's hand. Keeping a cautious eye on his former master, Dobby crept towards the low table before Severus. He lowered the tray and turned to Severus when Lucius snorted. With a squeal, Dobby disappeared.

Rolling his eyes, Severus poured himself a cup of coffee. “I see you still get a prurient thrill from intimidating the helpless,” he drawled.

Lucius gave him an artic glare, but held his tongue.

Sipping his drink, Severus contemplated why Lucius would seek him out. It would require something the elder Malfoy considered dire to lure Lucius to Hogwarts, and therefore under Dumbledore's nose. Lucius truly believed in the Dark Lord's insane view of the world, not that the blonde ever allowed that to come before his best interest.

Harry came out of the bedroom in jeans and a t-shirt; his boots were in his hands. He dropped onto the couch beside Severus and grabbed the older man's cup. Draining it, he smiled. “Do you want me to get the Bar, or do we hear him out first?”

Glaring, Severus snatched his cup back. “It would save time if you located Devlin now,” Severus said approvingly. Harry was learning. A short time ago, the brat wouldn't have thought beyond cursing Lucius, and then turning him over to the Aurors.

Harry slipped on his boots, and snitched one of the buttery croissants from the tray. “I'm guessing we don't want Dumbledore to know the git is here,” Harry said with a glare at Malfoy. “So I'll go fetch Devlin. I shouldn't be long.”

Malfoy had surprisingly stayed quiet, and Harry hoped the idiot would continue; he didn't think he could take much of the git's attitude. Harry made it to the door, when his luck ran out.

“Run along, boy,” Malfoy drawled condescendingly. “Fetch me a paper while you're out, won't you?”

Hand on the doorknob, Harry shook his head; he should have known. Malfoy wasn't able to resist the parting shot. The prat had interrupted his weekend with Severus, scared the shite out of Harry, and still had the audacity to needle him. Harry wasn't a child any longer; he no longer had to turn the other cheek when his elders insulted him.

Pulling his dagger as he whirled around, Harry advanced on Malfoy. Stepping in front on the older man, he used the point of the knife to force the grey eyes up. Once he had Malfoy's attention, Harry bared his teeth in a feral smile. “If you call me boy again,” he began pleasantly, “I'll cut out your tongue and owl it back to your family. Clear?”

Malfoy refused to answer, and Harry dug the blade a little further into his skin. It was just short of drawing blood, but the threat was clear. The blonde drew back, but Harry held his eyes. After a tense moment, Malfoy hissed, “Clear, Mr. Potter.”

Harry withdrew the blade and slipped it back in its sheath. He winked at Severus, and left.

Conflict Is Inevitable

September 1999

The tense silence in the dungeon quarters stretched. Severus waited until the door closed behind Harry, and then turned to Lucius and asked with mock solicitude, “Did he nick you? Potter has quite the temper when provoked.”

“Bastard,” Lucius growled. He struggled against the bonds holding him down. “Let me up, Severus, the boy's gone.”

Arching a dark brow, Severus shrugged. “That's not an option,” he said tightly. Let Lucius think Severus wanted him contained; there was no way he'd admit to the blonde he couldn't undo Harry's spell.

Lucius sneered. “I knew your depravities were legend, but I didn't realize they'd sunk to bondage,” he snapped.

“My depravities are none of your affair,” Severus said bitingly. “Do not think I'm unaware of your observation of Harry,” he added warningly. Lucius had always been attracted to power, and there was not a more appealing example of power than Harry. Severus had seen the blonde size Harry up, and would not tolerate it. Judging by the sneer on Lucius' face, Severus trusted his point had been made.

He picked up a large mug of coffee and sipped slowly, relishing the caffeine. The fact that Malfoy was tied and unable to partake was an added benefit. Silence reigned for several minutes, and then Lucius smirked in a manner Severus was intimately familiar with. He'd certainly witnessed it enough times. Severus braced himself for whatever weakness Malfoy thought he'd discovered.

“This is the fifth time Potter has bested me,” Lucius began with a contemplative air. “Tell me, Severus,” he drawled, “does the Chosen One fuck as fiercely as he fights?”

Setting the cup down on the table with a loud thunk, Severus stood to his full height. A smug smirk curled Severus' lips. “That is something you will never discover.” He flicked his wrist and his wand flew to his hand. Pointing the wand at Lucius, Severus silenced him.

Leading Devlin and Luc down into the dungeons, Harry hoped Malfoy hadn't given Severus too much trouble. He didn't trust the git not to provoke his lover. He pushed open the door and hurried inside. Severus was sitting on the couch reading a Potions journal, seemingly relaxed.

Malfoy glared, but remained silent. Harry looked between the two men and wondered what had happened while he was gone. Something felt off.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Harry questioned.

Severus shot him a look that said, `don't be stupid, Potter'. Harry shrugged unrepentantly and grinned.

Devlin ignored the byplay and approached the bound man, staring intently. Roughly tangling his hand in the immaculate blonde hair, Devlin tugged ruthlessly, forcing Malfoy to meet his eyes. “Lucius Malfoy, you have interfered with the Bar's business far too often,” he said coldly. “Give me one good reason why I should not save us a great deal of trouble and end your miserable life right now.”

Malfoy's lips moved, but no sound came forth. Devlin smiled with wicked intent. “I'm afraid I didn't hear a reason,” he drawled with a smirk. “Harry, could I trouble you for one of your daggers?” he asked casually.

Rolling his eyes, Luc intervened. “Come now, Devlin,” Luc said soothingly as he pulled Devlin away. “Let him go for now. I'm certain he'll be properly grateful and spill all his sordid little secrets.”

“Fine,” Devlin said with a sneer. “But if he doesn't…” Devlin paused to glare menacingly at the bound man, “I'm slitting his lying throat.”

Biting back a chuckle, Severus released the silencing charm and added, “Potter threatened to cut his tongue out.”

Malfoy glared at the two newcomers. “The devil of the Bar Sinister,” he said, holding Devlin's eyes. “I see your reputation for boorishness is well-deserved.”

Luc snorted, and Malfoy's head snapped around. “Ah, the family bastard,” he said snidely.

Luc smiled beatifically. “Lucius, my misguided brother.” Malfoy winced at Luc's words. “Little endearments like that will get you nowhere with us.”

“You should have been drowned at birth,” Malfoy spat.

“I echo your sentiments,” Luc said dryly. “Though your death would have left our sire without an heir.” Luc examined his nails. “Pity.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to offer a scathing reply, but Severus interrupted. “Enough,” he said firmly. “Lucius, I know you would like to continue baiting your…” he smiled maliciously, “brother, but if you don't shut up, Potter here will take offense and follow through with his threat.”

Harry smiled and fingered the hilt of the dagger on his belt. “Either tell us why you're here,” Severus continued, “or I'll happily address your tongue to Draco myself.” His admittedly scant patience had been exhausted.

With a freezing glare, Lucius snarled, “I would be delighted to tell you why I dropped in, if one of you,” Malfoy visibly swallowed whatever insult he'd though of, “would remove these damnable ropes and allow me to conduct this interview civilly.”

Severus turned to Harry and raised a questioning brow. Harry paused, and then nodded. He pulled his wand from his pocket. While he'd used wandless magic to secure Malfoy, it wasn't that unusual for a wizard to perform wandless magic in times of high stress. But there was no reason to allow Malfoy to realize Harry was as proficient without a wand as he was with it. A flick of his wrist and the bounds dissolved. “By all means, let us have civility,” Harry said sarcastically. He gestured for Luc and Devlin to sit.

Malfoy pulled back the sleeves of his robes and pointedly checked for bruises. He meticulously straightened his clothes, sat back and crossed his legs. Once he'd finished preening, Lucius spoke. “There are two reasons that bring me here. First, the Dark Lord is aware of my visit. So allow me to handle his business first.”

At those words the other men in the room tensed. Harry kept his eyes on Malfoy's hands. The blonde's eyes were on Severus, so Harry slowly slipped his wand out of the holster and into his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Devlin doing the same. It never hurt to be a bit paranoid.

“The Dark Lord is interested in how much would be required to secure your loyalty, Severus,” Lucius drawled arrogantly.

Glaring at the blonde, Severus sneered. “My loyalty is not for sale. If I did not remain loyal out of fear or respect, what makes him believe money would motivate me?”

Malfoy smiled coolly. “It is a great deal of money.”

One of Malfoy's hands disappeared into a pocket, and Harry leapt to his feet. In a heartbeat, Lucius had Harry's wand pressing between his eyes, and Devlin's digging into his jugular. Seemingly unperturbed, the blonde pulled a heavy leather purse from his pocket and tossed it on the low table. “A down payment,” he murmured.

Without turning from Malfoy, Harry snapped, “Luc.”

He heard the rustle of cloth as Luc examined the pouch. “It's cursed,” Luc said after a moment. “But I don't recognize the signature.”

“Severus,” Harry said shortly.

Tearing his eyes from the tableau before him, Severus turned to the table. Stretching his senses, he felt for the magical signature on the leather bag. After a moment he sat back with a hiss. “It's the Dark Lord,” he confirmed.

Harry nodded his head towards Lucius and raised a brow. Severus took his meaning and tersely ordered, “Lucius, look at me.”

Cold silver eyes reluctantly met his, and Severus quickly searched the blonde's memories. “He didn't know,” he said shortly.

Devlin met Harry's gaze and Harry nodded. The older man dropped his wand and stepped back. Harry pressed his wand harder against Malfoy until the blonde looked up. “Keep your hands out of your pockets in the future,” Harry said warningly.

There was a tense silence as Harry retook his seat. Severus watched his lover re-holster his wand and wondered again at the brat's insecurities. In moments of crisis, Harry always leapt to take charge. A few years ago, he might have deferred to Devlin, or Severus himself, but now the young man snapped out orders like he'd been doing it all his life. And we all obeyed without thinking, Severus mused. Now to convince Harry of his obvious leadership skills.

Unaware of the direction his lover's thoughts had taken, Harry turned to Luc. “What curse?”

Luc smiled smugly at Malfoy and explained, “It's a clever compulsion charm. The more the pouch empties, the more you'll desire to obey the compulsion. By the time it's emptied, it would nearly equal the Imperius.”

Harry shook his head. “That's really clumsy of Voldemort. I mean, Severus is well-versed in the Dark Arts, surely he had to know the charm would have been discovered.”

As the group tried to figure out what Voldemort was up to, Lucius cleared his throat. “I believe I can shed some light on your dilemma.”

Every eye in the room focused on him, and Malfoy blanched for a moment at the powerful stares, then regained his expression of cool disdain. “You will have to bear with me a moment, and allow me to explain.”

After a moment, Harry sighed. “And why would you tell us anything?” he asked.

Malfoy lowered his eyes. “Because the Dark Lord sacrificed my wife, and now threatens my son.”

Severus sat back heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Narcissa's dead?” he asked woodenly. In the last few years, Severus hadn't taken the time to check on Narcissa and now he felt a surge of guilt. A moment here or there wouldn't have burdened him, but he had been relieved to be rid of all his Death Eater connections. He closed his eyes briefly in tribute to a woman who had not deserved her fate.

Harry noticed Severus's distress. He knew Severus had at least respected the woman. Narcissa Malfoy had never personally hurt him, and Harry felt badly about her death. “What happened?” he asked softly. Even a bastard like Lucius Malfoy deserved some compassion after losing his wife to Voldemort.

Malfoy took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. After a moment he seemed to regain his composure. “To achieve his rebirth, the Dark Lord used the Rwn Bryt ritual.”

Luc and Severus paled and gasped, but Harry didn't have a chance to ask why. Malfoy's head shot up and he held Harry's eyes. “In his bid to resist your Black flames, the Dark Lord allowed Bellatrix to slit Narcissa's throat to ensure `there was enough blood'.”

Eyes clenched shut, Harry swallowed hard, trying to quell the urge to vomit. Another innocent victim had lost their life in Voldemort's obsessive quest to kill Harry. The guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He acknowledged the feeling for a moment and then pushed it away. Not now, he reminded himself. I'll deal with it later.

Opening his eyes, Harry met Malfoy's cold silver ones. “I'm very sorry,” he said gently. “I didn't know your wife, but no one deserves that.” After a long tense moment, Malfoy nodded stiffly.

Harry turned to Luc. “Can you explain that ritual to me?”

Still looking shaken, Luc took a deep breath and began. Harry listened in growing horror as the older man explained, Malfoy occasionally adding details from what he'd witnessed.

Like he'd done with Quirrell, Voldemort had directed the ritual from the back of Yaxley's head. According to Luc, Rwn Bryt was an ancient Aramaic ritual, meaning something like, `the bodily coffin'. The name alone was enough to sicken Harry.

It only got worse. The rite only called for a small vial of blood taken from the family-line you wanted to gain resistance to. Not willing to take chances, Bellatrix had slit her sister's throat. The host body, Yaxley in this case, then drank the blood mixed with several disgusting and poisonous ingredients.

There were some ritual incantations involved, but in the end the result was that Voldemort had a new body. And given that Yaxley had only been in his early forties, he had a reliable one. According to Malfoy the body had retained Yaxley's features, except for the eyes. Apparently Voldemort's nature couldn't be hidden; his monstrosity was revealed by his serpentine red eyes.

“In short,” Malfoy explained, “the Dark Lord's mind is not entirely stable.”

It was a horrifying prospect. An insane Voldemort returned to a body and possibly resistant to the Black flames, but now was not the time to deal with it. Plans would need to be made, but not in front of Malfoy.

Harry turned his attention back to Malfoy. “Okay, we understand about your wife,” he began. “But how is Voldemort threatening Draco?”

Pink stained Malfoy's high cheekbones. “Apparently his new body is capable of… activities his old wasn't,” Malfoy said delicately.

Harry felt his eyes widen, and he had to bite his lower lip to stop the snort of shocked laughter from escaping. Devlin wasn't so polite. “Ah well, given who he is, the boy should be well prepared for life as a catamite.”

As he eyes hardened, Malfoy sneered and spat, “A Malfoy is not a whore.” He turned to Luc and shrugged. “Well, at least not the legitimate branch.”

The look of astonished outrage on Luc's face was priceless. Harry doubled over and nearly choked with laughter. In between gasps he could hear Severus' dark chuckle. After several moments passed, Harry heard Luc huff, and snap, “It wasn't that funny.”

After the tension of the earlier conversation, Harry appreciated the comic relief, and Luc's reaction made it that much better. When Harry kept laughing, Luc leaned down and asked, falsely solicitous, “Are you all right?” Harry couldn't stop laughing long enough to answer, so Luc pounded on his back way too hard to be merely helpful.

Harry sat up and wiped the tears from his face. “I'm sorry, Luc,” he began, “but all I could think of was that day in my bedroom…”

Luc blushed, and buried his head in his hands. “You'll never forget that, will you?” he asked forlornly.

“I know I won't,” Severus drawled darkly.

Seeing Luc at an apparent disadvantage, Malfoy struck. “Tell me, shame of the Malfoy name, if your heredity is so distasteful to you, why did you choose a name that could be mistaken for my own?”

“I didn't even know you existed when I chose that name,” Luc said dismissively. He smiled coldly and added, “Since your education obviously does not extend to Italian, I will enlighten you.” He sat back and took on a patient lecturing tone. “Luc means `light'. I picked that name as a sign of my rejection of the dark bastard who sired me by raping an unwilling woman.”

Though he sneered, Malfoy didn't respond to the pointed jibe. Devlin snorted. “Pretentious git, the world doesn't revolve around you,” he said snidely.

Malfoy angrily turned on Devlin and spat, “I'm sure you have a similar trite reason for your name.”

“Not at all,” Devlin said with a shrug. “It was simply as close as I could come to devil in polite society.” He gave Malfoy a wolfish grin.

Harry remembered a comment Vane had made sometime ago, something about Devlin's name meaning a lot to the man. But it wasn't important now. Tired of all the posturing and insults, he turned to Malfoy and asked bluntly, “What do you want from us?”

Way too early on a Monday morning Harry walked into the staff room and dropped tiredly into a chair beside Hermione. They were the only ones there and the quiet soothed him. She smiled indulgently and summoned him a cup of coffee. When Harry picked up the cup, she turned back to her newspaper.

When Harry reached the bottom of the cup, he sat up, feeling awake at last. “You're the best,” he said with a smile.

Hermione shrugged. “What did you have going on this weekend?”

Sitting back with a sigh, Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. “Well, for starters, we found out how Voldemort came back this time,” he began. “And then I promised to help keep Draco Malfoy safe from Voldemort's lecherous intentions.”

The paper fluttered to the ground and Hermione whipped her head around. “You did what?”

Chuckling over her surprise, Harry explained.

“And Draco's staying at Sinister Place. Luc has promised to keep him in line,” Harry concluded.

Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. “Lucius Malfoy assisting you, and Draco living with the Bar,” she muttered. She looked up at Harry and smiled. “It could only happen to you, Harry.”

Harry shrugged as he went to pour himself another cup. Picking the paper up off the floor, Hermione folded it neatly and set it aside. “You've had a busy weekend,” she said sympathetically. “And now with that interview you gave about Professor Snape published, your week will be full too.”

“It's out already?” Harry asked fearfully. He was so distracted he overfilled the cup, scalding his hand. “Fuck,” he murmured.

Picking up the paper again, Hermione showed him the front page. There in bold type was `Chosen One defends Death Eater'; in smaller print underneath the headline was `Potter says, Severus Snape is really a hero'.

Harry stumbled blindly to the table and sat down heavily. The interview wasn't supposed to be out until next week. He hadn't told Severus yet. Harry winced; Severus was going to be livid. He didn't regret giving the interview; Severus deserved to have his name cleared. But Harry had planned to break it to him gently, knowing how much his lover valued his privacy.

Harry sat racking his brain, trying to find the best way to tell Severus, when a sleek grey owl flew through the open window. The owl landed on Harry's shoulder and impatiently thrust out a message-laden leg.

Recognizing the special breed of owl the Fianna used, Harry wondered what the trouble was. Untying the note, he noticed the owl remained. Glancing over the parchment, Harry muttered darkly, “Damn paranoid bastards.” The message was written in old Irish. He'd learned to read it during his time with the Fianna, but it was slow going for him.


Harry,

We have received word there will be an attack on Diagon Alley sometime this morning. Your assistance is needed to prepare and defend the area. We will follow your judgment regarding Albus Dumbledore's involvement. The Ministry has been notified, but declined to take action. The Fianna are gathering in the abandoned building beside Flourish and Blotts. We await your arrival.

Brody


“Shite,” Harry cursed. The Fianna had many resources supplying them with information on the Death Eaters' movements, so Harry knew the information was credible. And when they'd discussed Harry representing them in the Wizengamot, there had been a tentative plan to respond to a confirmed raid. It would show the wizarding world the strength and dedication of the Fianna, but Harry hadn't expected it to come so soon.

Especially not today. Harry had no time to explain to Severus about the interview. Pushing away his personal troubles, Harry concentrated on what needed to be done now. Making several quick decisions, Harry snatched a quill and blank sheet of parchment from the center of the table.

He quickly scratched out a message to the Bar and gave it to the waiting owl along with instructions to hurry. Harry blessed the Fianna's insistence on breeding their own owls for speed and stamina. He scribbled another note for Severus and then charmed it and the message from the Fianna.

Turning to a curious Hermione, Harry spoke quickly, “Can you give these to Severus the minute he comes in? It's urgent.”

Hermione took the folded papers and asked, “Harry, what's going on?”

“Not now, Hermione,” Harry said impatiently as he double-checked his daggers. They would have to do. Hopefully one of his brothers-in-arms would lend him a sword, because he didn't have time to fetch his. He caught the worried look on Hermione's face and gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise you'll know soon enough. But I have to go. Now.”

As he passed behind her, he patted her shoulder gently. “Don't forget. Give those to Severus as soon as you see him.”

Prepare for War

Weak sunlight filtered through the boarded up windows of the abandoned store-front. The constant low hum of conversation from the street could be heard despite the silencing charm in place. Harry paced the room restlessly. The Bar had arrived twenty minutes ago, and strategy had been decided upon, but the wait was driving Harry mad. They were waiting for Severus to arrive and waiting for the Death Eaters to make their move.

Devlin caught his eye and arched a brow in question. Smiling weakly, Harry waved him away. He appreciated the other man's concern, but right now he was too keyed up to hold a conversation. A disturbance in the air caused Harry to whirl around to face the corner.

Regardless of the turbulent nature of Portkeys, Severus landed on his feet gracefully. Frowning at his lover's ability to land upright, Harry strode towards the older man. Severus' head shot up at his approach and the chill in his black eyes stopped Harry in his tracks. Bowing his head in regret, Harry closed his eyes briefly. Severus had seen the article in the Prophet.

The hateful sneer he hadn't seen in three long years marred Severus' face, but Harry was spared Severus' anger for the moment. Ronan Brody, the captain of the Fianna, approached them both with a grim expression.

“The Death Eaters have just entered Knockturn Alley,” he informed them. Ronan looked to Harry. “Are you sure then, lad, that you can draw them out?”

Reluctantly turning his attention to the matter at hand, Harry nodded. “I'm sure,” he said swiftly. “When they see me in the middle of the street, they'll come after me.”

“Bait,” Severus drawled contemptuously. “How appropriate for such a reckless, tactless Gryffindor such as yourself, Potter.”

The barbed comment hit its mark, just as Severus intended. Having known from the start that he'd upset his lover with his interview, Harry tried to let it roll off his back. He lifted his eyes to Severus'. “I'll do what's necessary.”

So caught up in his silent battle with Severus, Harry didn't hear Devlin's approach. The supportive hand on his shoulder and the softly spoken, but firm, “I'll be watching his back,” alerted him.

Glancing back at Devlin, Harry smiled gratefully. He had a feeling he'd need Devlin's support to get through the day. Ronan seemed to sense the undercurrent, but went ahead with the plan anyway. “Master Snape,” Brody began respectfully, “we need another to watch young Harry's back, if you would be so willing?”

Despite his anger at Harry, Severus was not willing to let another guard the younger man. He nodded tersely. Together with Harry and Devlin, Severus watched the nearly thirty assembled Fiannan warriors disperse unobtrusively into the crowds in Diagon Alley. Now they had to wait for the Death Eaters to make an appearance.

Gratified that Harry seemed to have enough sense not to attempt to engage him in a conversation he wasn't prepared to have, Severus leaned against a dusty wall and brooded. As if his day wasn't stressful enough, shortly after Granger had handed him Harry's note that shameless little bint Ginny Weasley had followed Albus into the staff room. The chit was to be Poppy's assistant; in all his years at Hogwarts Poppy had never requested such help. Severus could see Dumbledore's fingerprints all over this newest manipulation. If the girl's presence wasn't bad enough, she had the brass to shove that disgusting rag of a newspaper under his nose.

`Obviously Harry's trying to clean up your reputation,' the odious female simpered at him. `I have to wonder if it's to make you more socially acceptable, or if it's a goodbye present?'

As much as he would have liked to simply dismiss her words as jealously, Severus couldn't help but question if Weasley had a point. His past was something he'd never discussed with Harry. Distaste for reliving it, and a fear that Harry would be repulsed, had kept him silent. Had that been a mistake? The red haze of his anger had prevented him from reading more than the first paragraph of the article, but that had been enough. The reporter had retold of his early days with the Death Eaters and questioned his loyalty. And he'd apparently done it with Harry's blessing.

The soft whistle of a mockingbird distracted him from his thoughts. It was the signal they'd been waiting for. Severus watched with trepidation as Harry squared his shoulders and boldly walked to the middle of the street. Gazing up the street, Severus felt his heart miss a beat. At the junction where Knockturn Alley met Diagon Alley a host of Death Eaters marched out of the dark street. A swift count told Severus there had to be at least fifty or more. Keeping his eyes on Harry, Severus stepped out of the shadows and joined the fight.

Pandemonium; that was the first thought in Harry's head when the visitors and merchants in Diagon Alley noticed the Death Eaters in their midst. The second was `how the hell do I distract the bastards before someone gets hurt?'

Since it was too late for subtlety, Harry took a deep breath, threw up a shield that would stop anything short of an Unforgivable and then conjured the biggest ball of Black fire he was capable of. The ball of flames was about the size of a large beach ball, and Harry threw it as hard as he could at the assembled Death Eaters.

The flames landed in the middle of the group and several of their robes caught fire. “Straightforward, but effective,” Devlin commented with grim humor.

Harry shrugged, and braced for retaliation. He was not disappointed. The Death Eaters turned their attention to Harry. Ten curses came flying straight at him. Diving to the ground to avoid the spells, Harry rolled and sent a strong, broad-range stunner back at them. The Black flames weren't effective when fighting more than one opponent. His stunner, on the other hand, was. From his position on the ground, Harry guessed about five of the Death Eaters had fallen.

From behind the Death Eaters the Fiannan warriors joined the fight. The surprise attack allowed the Fianna to pick off several of the black robed figures before the Death Eaters spotted them. As the Fianna leapt from their hiding places, ten or fifteen of the enemies rushed Harry and his guardians.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed several of the goblins from Gringotts join the battle and fight alongside the Fianna. From the direction of the Leaky Cauldron behind him, Harry heard the sound of running. Not willing to take his eyes off the approaching Death Eaters, he shouted, “Devlin, behind us.”

Harry pulled the dagger from his belt, and cast two curses in quick succession at the advancing men. Both were accurate and he had two less to fight. He could see spell-light and sparks coming from Severus' position, but didn't turn to look. Severus can hold his own, he reminded himself desperately.

A disgusted snort came from Devlin. “It's Dumbledore and that little club of his,” the older man spat.

Knowing that the enemy wasn't approaching from behind, Harry dismissed the Order from his mind. They would help or not, but the Death Eaters were on them now, and Harry had no time to worry about Dumbledore.

The next fifteen minutes were a blur. He shouted spells, and slashed at men with his dagger. Blood, screams, and the smell of burning flesh and wood would be all he remembered from the battle proper.

In the end, Harry and the Fianna triumphed, capturing the majority of the Death Eaters involved in the attack. Harry estimated that only about ten managed to escape. The Ministry Aurors didn't arrive until it was all over, much to Harry's disgust. Fudge's incompetence could have cost innocent people their lives. It was only due to Harry's quick distraction and the skills of the Fianna that there were only minor injuries and no deaths.

The senior Auror at the scene attempted to force Harry and Ronan to go to the Ministry for a de-briefing, but they both refused. After a tense argument, the Auror relented. Harry had every intention of talking to the minister personally, later. First he had to help with the mop-up and then he needed to have a serious discussion with his lover.

Severus hadn't looked him in the eye since he'd first arrived. Harry watched as Severus approached Devlin. It appeared the older man was taking his leave. A moment later, Harry's supposition was proven true. Severus nodded in the direction of the other members of the Bar helping with the bound Death Eaters and then Apparated away.

Releasing a shaky breath, Harry ignored Dumbledore's shout for his attention. Damn it, Harry swore internally, I won't let Severus ignore me. I know he's angry, but surely he can see the benefits of that fucking article. Determined to make his lover see reason, Harry closed his eyes, pictured the gates of Hogwarts, and Apparated.

Shaking off the dizzying sensation of Apparition, Harry looked past the gates to the path leading to the school. He saw a swirl of black robes approaching the doors. Severus threw the heavy door open and stormed inside. Jogging quickly, Harry hurried up the path. He reached the door in time to see Severus turn down the corridor leading to the dungeons.

“Severus,” he called.

The other man ignored him and continued on his way. “Shite,” Harry muttered. A glance around showed there was no one in sight so Harry headed after his lover at a trot.

Halfway to their quarters, Harry caught up to the older man. He grabbed Severus' arm and pulled him to a stop. “I've been calling you,” he complained.

Severus roughly jerked his arm free of Harry's grasp. “I realize that,” he spat. “But I have no desire to have yet more of my personal life bandied about in public,” he said in a low hiss.

Turning on his heel, Severus continued on his way. “If you insist on burdening me with your meaningless twaddle, you may do so in private,” he said in a louder voice.

Frowning, Harry followed. There hadn't been that much of Severus' personal life disclosed in the article. He'd been careful with the reporter; he'd only said things that were known by the majority of the Order, such as Severus' spying, at great personal risk, his often unacknowledged contributions to the Potions community… things along those lines.

Harry sighed. He'd known Severus would be upset about the article, but he was beginning to think he'd underestimated how much his lover loathed the attention.

They reached their rooms and Severus slammed the door open, banging it against the stone walls. Harry winced. Closing the door gently, Harry followed Severus into the sitting room and dropped heavily into an armchair.

“Look, I know you don't like the publicity,” Harry began. “But I don't get why you're all worked up.”

Severus ignored him and turned straight to the door of his lab. “Hey, I asked you a question,” Harry shouted indignantly.

Without slowing down, Severus spat, “And I have no intention of answering.” The older man threw open the door and stepped inside. He stuck his head out the door, and said scathingly, “I will show you the same regard you showed me with that contumelious article. None.”

Harry sat in stunned silence as the door was forcefully slammed shut.

An hour's worth of fresh air, sunshine and exercise had not helped Harry figure out why Severus was so angry. So he headed back into the castle. He absently nodded to the occasional greeting from a student. The dungeons seemed even colder today than they normally did, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if they took on their master's moods.

Reaching the plain wooden door to their rooms, Harry turned the knob. It didn't open; he frowned down at the metal. Harry tried again. It still wouldn't open. Confused, Harry pulled his wand and checked the wards.

His eyes closed with the painful results. Severus had removed him from the wards. Harry exhaled heavily, feeling as if he'd just taken a Bludger to the gut. He stared blankly at the door for a moment and then lowered his forehead to rest on the cool wood. “Why, Severus?” he asked in a whisper. “Why lock me out instead of talk to me? What did I do that was so wrong?”

Time lost all meaning as Harry stood outside Severus' quarters. The nearby laughter from two Slytherin boys walking down the hallway pulled him back to reality. Not paying attention to where he was going, Harry wandered the castle. At some point he heard Minerva call his name, but Harry ignored her as well as the calls from the students. An unknown time later he felt a hand grab his arm.

He slowly looked up to see who had detained him. “Hermione?”

“Harry, what's wrong?” she asked gently. “Is everyone okay?”

Shaking his head and trying to force his mind into some semblance of coherence, Harry tried to smile reassuringly. “Everyone's fine,” he said. Suddenly realizing he'd need a place to sleep that night, Harry hurriedly asked, “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

Hermione frowned. “You know you're always welcome, but…?”

Not really ready to discuss what was going on, Harry tried to placate her. “Severus and I argued,” he admitted. “It's just for tonight.”

As they walked to her rooms, Hermione kept up a soothing monologue on her experiences with the Potions professorship, allowing Harry to simply nod in response. Eventually they reached her rooms near the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione installed him on the couch and fussed with a tea tray before excusing herself to the bedroom for a moment.

Harry stared broodingly into the flames. Hermione is a good friend, he mused. But there's too much I can't explain to her. She doesn't know Severus well enough. Hell, she doesn't know me well enough, not anymore. He sighed sadly as he put his mug back on the table. He leaned back on the couch and wished for someone who would understand without him having to explain his complicated lover. If Severus is my lover anymore, he thought morosely.

He'd been brooding for several minutes when the fireplace flared green and Sebastian stepped out into Hermione's sitting room. Harry stared at him blankly. “Sebastian? What are you doing here?”

“Idiot child,” Sebastian growled. “You look like shite,” he added.

The bedroom door opened and Hermione timidly walked out. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “But it's obvious you need to talk to someone. I know you're not comfortable talking to me, so I called him,” she said. The expression on her face showed her willingness to take any abuse Harry chose to heap on her.

Harry laughed bitterly. His wish had come true, but now Harry wasn't so sure that was a good thing. “I'm not mad at you, Hermione,” he said resignedly.

Sebastian nudged Harry's feet off the couch. “Well, I'm mad at you,” he said. “You're a brainless lump who doesn't have the sense to come home to lick your wounds.”

“I'm fine,” Harry protested.

Snorting, Sebastian leaned down. “You're a pitiful liar,” he said, then reached down and grabbed Harry's earlobe. Harry yelped when the older man twisted it painfully, forcing Harry to his feet.

“You're coming home,” Sebastian said with a finality Harry had never heard from the laid-back man.

Sebastian bullied Harry into the fireplace and sent him to Sinister Place. As Harry twisted in the flames, he heard Sebastian say to Hermione, “My thanks, Hermione; the Bar is in your debt.”

Harry had barely stepped clear of the Floo when Sebastian came out after him. The older man immediately renewed his grip on Harry's ear and pulled him down the hall.

“That's my ear, you fucker,” Harry snapped mutinously. He felt like a disobedient child being tugged along by his father. Plus, it hurt.

Tightening his grip, Sebastian laughed airily. “I know it's your ear, idiot.”

Not wanting to pull away and hurt himself worse, Harry demanded, “Let me go, I can walk on my own.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Sebastian said dryly. “But this way I know you'll follow me. It doesn't hurt too badly, does it?” he asked in a falsely caring tone.

“Bastard, you know it hurts,” Harry snarled.

Even with his head at an awkward angle, Harry could see Sebastian's shoulder shaking with his laughter. “Of course it hurts,” Sebastian drawled. “It's one of the more efficient ways I've found of compelling obedience.”

“Lazy sod, you mean easiest,” Harry mumbled.

“That too,” Sebastian agreed readily as he propelled Harry into the living room.

Sitting in the chair the older man had directed him to, Harry rubbed his painful to touch, red ear. He sat silently, plotting his revenge on Sebastian as the other man summoned a house-elf. Though he tried, Harry couldn't hear the quiet conversation. A moment later Sebastian dropped onto the couch opposite Harry and immediately relaxed into his habitual sprawl.

Sebastian stared at Harry with a mischievous smile quirking the corners of his lips.

“What did you do?” Harry asked warily. It was never a good thing when one of the Bar looked at you like that.

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian drawled, “I simply informed the others you needed to talk.”

Harry whimpered. He couldn't be bothered to worry about shame. Sebastian he could handle. The older man would quickly tire of trying to force Harry to talk. But the others? He was doomed. They were as stubborn as Harry himself was; he wouldn't leave this room till they were satisfied. “Why?” Harry demanded with a plaintive moan.

Sebastian smiled smugly. “Why should I waste my energy trying to interrogate you, when Devlin and the others would be more than happy to do it for me?”

Harry considered running for it, but it was no use. The Bar would track him down, berate him for a coward, and then force him to talk anyway. Resigned to his fate, Harry stood with a heavy sigh. Though it was only a couple of hours after noon, Harry crossed to the liquor cabinet anyway. He needed a drink. Pouring a measure of whiskey in a tumbler, Harry tried to think on the plus side.

Talking to the Bar could be a positive. They had known Severus for years and probably knew him better than anyone besides Harry. Hopefully they could tell him what he'd done wrong. If nothing else, perhaps they could offer a strong, friendly shoulder for him to lean on.

A few minutes later Devlin and the rest of the Bar strode into the room. Devlin took one look at Harry by the liquor cabinet and barked, “Sit down, brat.”

Devlin turned to Sebastian, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Settling more comfortably on the sofa, Sebastian launched into his tale. “Hermione Granger Floo-called the house. As you louts were outside, planning world domination, or whatever it is you do out there...”

“Exercise,” Gabriel interjected with a smile.

“Yes, yes, world domination, exercise... Both equally exhausting,” Sebastian said with a roll of his eyes. “As I was saying, I answered her call. She informed me that Harry here was wandering the halls in a daze. She was concerned, but all she could get out of the brat was that he had a fight with Severus. I went, fetched the brat…”

“Nearly pulled my damn ear off in the process,” Harry interrupted resentfully.

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Sebastian ignored Harry's comment and continued, “And then called you lot.”

All eyes on him, Harry shifted in his seat. After a moment Devlin sighed. “Harry, we're not trying to pry,” he said softly.

“Not prying my arse,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Devlin heard him and, gritting his teeth, continued, “But we are concerned. Please let us help you.”

Frowning at Devlin, Harry stood and began to pace. “Help me? How the fuck are you going to help me?” He whirled to face the other man and demanded, “Can you go back and force that reporter to keep his word? Can you give me the time I needed to explain things to Severus?”

Devlin went to Harry and laid a strong hand on his shoulder. “No,” he admitted gently. “But that doesn't mean we can't help. Harry, talk to us. Perhaps together we can find a solution.” He pulled Harry into a tight hug. “I don't like to see you hurting.”

For a long moment Harry simply absorbed the warmth and comfort Devlin offered. Eventually he raised his head from where it rested on Devlin's shoulder and let out a shaky breath. “Okay. I'll tell you what I know.”

Devlin guided the young man to a chair and Harry sat down. With a snap of his fingers Devlin summoned a house-elf and within a minute everyone had a drink in their hand. Harry sipped at the scotch while he tried to order his thoughts. “You all saw the paper this morning?” he asked.

Everyone acknowledged having read the article in question. “Right, well, the reporter wasn't supposed to publish it until Friday,” Harry began. “I made him promise, that way I could give Severus fair warning, and so all the upheaval would be on the weekend and not interfere with classes.”

“Reporters can't be trusted,” Luc drawled from his seat near the center of the room.

“I've realized that,” Harry snarled. “But as he was one of the ones you had me speak to in the past, I thought he was better than the others.”

“How much did you bribe him with?” Luc asked arrogantly.

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. “Bribe him?”

Luc gave him an incredulous look. “Really, Harry, you've been with us how long, and you're still that naive? You have to bribe the cretins to assure their promises.”

Dropping his head into his hands, Harry moaned. All of this could have been prevented with the judicious application of a little gold. “Why didn't one of you tell me?” he asked plaintively.

“With your distaste for the media, it never occurred to us that you would seek them out,” Vane said wryly.

“What was Severus' reaction?” Devlin asked. “When I saw him this morning, he was more uptight than I've seen him in years.”

Feeling horribly foolish, Harry was grateful for Devlin's question. Though the question directed the conversation away from his mistake, he couldn't help laughing dryly. “That's one way to put it.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. “He… umm… locked me out,” Harry said hesitantly. “I… uh… I don't think…” Harry fumbled for the words, afraid if he said it aloud it would be true. He took a deep breath and blurted, “I don't think he wants me anymore.”

The room was silent for a long moment, then an arrogant snort sounded from the doorway. “Quite right, can't see why anyone would want you, Potter,” Draco Malfoy drawled scornfully. “Did you say he? I should have known you were a fag.”

Harry leapt to his feet, wand in hand, and glared at Draco. Malfoy had taken him by surprise. He'd forgotten the other man was in the house. Slowly lowering his wand, Harry turned his back on Draco. The blonde wasn't worth the effort it would take to curse him.

Devlin turned his suddenly cold green eyes on Draco. “Well, well, Mister Malfoy, you finally deigned to grace us with your presence,” he drawled. “What's the problem, the house-elf get tired of your incessant, juvenile demands?”

“Your house-elf is ill-trained,” Draco whined. “It refuses to bring me the books I asked for. I came to retrieve them myself, when I overheard the queer's bellyaching.”

Gabriel bristled. “Do you have a problem with homosexuality?” He fingered the dagger at his belt as he glared at the other man.

Luc waved Draco into a seat with a lazy hand. “Don't allow the idiot child to bait you, Gabriel,” he said firmly. “With his background I'm quite sure Draco has been taught to use any means to achieve his goal.” He looked at Draco and with a feral smile added, “Including bending over for anyone more powerful than himself.”

Harry grinned at the indignant expression on Malfoy's face. The blonde couldn't seem to decide which insult to answer first, the idiot child comment, or the bending over one. Malfoy turned red with poorly suppressed anger when the Bar laughed at Luc's interpretation of Malfoy's upbringing.

“I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, I will not be requiring that service from you,” Devlin said lazily. “I believe I'm secure enough in my power to resist your, ah… charms.”

“You know nothing of real power,” Malfoy shouted. “My father is powerful; you're just a bunch of bastards with delusions of greatness.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry stepped into the fray. “Your all-powerful father came to us and begged for our protection.”

“My father doesn't beg for anything,” Malfoy spat. “Especially not from half-bloods and bastards. Weaklings, in other words.”

Harry snorted. “Malfoy, you don't know shite. Your father regularly bows and grovels at the feet of a half-blood bastard.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to give a no doubt scathing retort, when Devlin interrupted, “Didn't your sainted father inform you of the reason we tolerate your presence?”

Frowning, Draco shook his head. “Father only said it was in my best interest.”

With a malicious smirk, Devlin filled the blonde in. “Voldemort has decided that due to his new body, he'd like the companionship of an attractive partner. That was to be your role.”

Draco's nose elevated several inches, and he glared at group. “A companion to the Dark Lord? I see nothing threatening in that,” he said contemptuously.

Despite the amusement baiting Malfoy brought him, Harry decided to give the blonde a break. “Companion as in a euphemism for fuck toy.”

“Yeah, he wasn't looking for a chess partner, Malfoy,” Gabriel added snidely. “Just someone he could bugger bloody.”

Malfoy blanched, and Harry thought the other man would be sick for a moment, but the blonde eventually rallied. “Even if that's true, I don't see how you simpletons are supposed to protect me.”

As the Bar began bickering with Malfoy, Harry stared morosely into his glass. He didn't think the blonde's problems were insignificant, but at the moment Harry had more pressing things on his mind. His shoulders slumped as Harry tried to find a way to make things right with Severus.

Lost in his increasingly bitter thoughts, Harry didn't notice Vane until the older man plucked the empty tumbler out of his hand and replaced it with a fresh one. Harry gave him a grateful smile and returned to his brooding. Vane stayed beside him, but didn't try to make him talk. Harry appreciated the silent support.

Tired of all the arguing, Harry stood to leave. Hopefully in the quiet of his room, he would come up with an idea. A piercing whistle stopped him at the doorway. “Harry, sit back down,” Vane ordered firmly, ignoring the stares of the others.

Harry returned to his seat quickly. Vane didn't lose his temper often, but when he did it was best to do as he said.

Stepping in front of Harry, Vane glared at the other men in the room. “Perhaps, if you gits are finished listening to the insufferable drama queen whine about his lot in life, we could assist our cousin with his problems.” He gestured towards Harry and growled, “You know, the reason we assembled in the first place.”

There were several contrite looks, but Luc drawled, “Honestly, I don't see what we can do. Severus is an arse, and nothing will change that.”

“Severus!” Draco shouted. He turned a disbelieving look on Harry. “You're dating Severus Snape?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Harry snapped. “Severus doesn't date.”

Malfoy's brow creased in confusion. “Then what is he to you?”

“None of your business, Malfoy,” Harry said warningly.

“Harry, he's living here. Eventually the git will learn the truth,” Spencer said with a shrug.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Harry muttered mutinously. He wasn't in the mood to be practical. He turned to Vane and said softly, “I appreciate the thought, but I don't want to talk with Malfoy here.”

“Understandable,” Vane said soothingly. More loudly, he added, “Young Mr. Malfoy did have a question about the Black magic if you'd be willing to answer it.”

Harry turned to Malfoy and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“My question,” Draco drawled, “is how in Merlin's name is a half-blood able to use Black magic? I mean, the Blacks are one of the premier families, surely there are protections in place to keep the magic in pure blood lines.”

Chuckling bitterly, Harry shook his head. “You mean, why me instead of you?”

“Maybe I do,” Draco said nastily. “After all, my blood is pure, and as a Malfoy, I'm far more deserving.”

Prissily arranging his robes, Malfoy smirked. “Although I'm beginning to believe the rumors of you having any of the Black magic is just propaganda to reassure the mewling public.”

Even knowing Malfoy was baiting him, Harry couldn't resist. Conjuring a ball of Black flames, Harry held them out at arm's length and let Malfoy get a good look at them. Without warning, Harry tossed the fire into the blonde's lap. He laughed when Malfoy yelped and jumped out of his chair beating at his groin. The Black flames fell harmlessly to the floor.

“Sirius Black was my father, just as much as James Potter was,” Harry began dryly. “With his blood I gained access to the Black magic. At his death, I became the head of the Black family. It's all that simple, Malfoy.”

“You're not the only one with Black magic, Potter,” Malfoy snarled. “Just because I don't have the Black flames doesn't make me less of a Black.”

Harry tilted his head, and asked curiously, “Then why did Sirius say that Black magic had died out?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I won't pretend to know what went on in that mutt's mind. But I doubt any of the others would advertise their abilities. Mother said I was the first in several generations.”

The mention of Malfoy's mother prompted Harry to ignore the mutt comment and offer sincerely, “I was sorry to hear about Narcissa.”

“You're not fit to speak her name,” Draco spat. “Your godmutt deserved to die, my mother didn't.”

Fed up with Malfoy's ceaseless animosity, Harry glared frostily at him. “Fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry growled. Dissolving the still burning, but harmless flames on the floor with a careless wave of his hand, Harry stood and walked out.

The low light in the candlelit room cast ominous shadows. The acidic smell and clinging steam from the softly simmering cauldron signaled it was time to add the dragon scales. Severus absently pushed a strand of lank hair out of his face and carefully dropped the required number of scales into the potion. The demanding, meticulous potion was keeping his mind and hands occupied. There was no room for thoughts of the brat.

A couple of hours later, Severus sighed heavily and bottled the completed potion. He tidied up the unused ingredients, and set aside the cauldron to be cleaned later. It was too early in the school year; Madam Pomfrey had no need of additional supplies. The full moon was still several weeks away, so it was too early to brew the Wolfsbane for Lupin.

Now that he'd finished the fire protection potion his sixth years would need for their next lesson, Severus had nothing to occupy his time. The brat had turned out to be a superior assistant so there weren't even any insipid essays to grade.

He walked into the sitting room and his eyes fell on Potter's Firebolt. As Severus glanced around the room, he couldn't help but notice the trainers haphazardly lying under the couch. The green robes carelessly tossed over the back of a dinning chair, the brat's whet stone holding down a stack of graded essays. Everywhere he looked was further proof of how far Harry had invaded his life.
With a snarl and a wave of his wand, all of Potter's belongings where swept up and deposited in the brat's trunk. I did the right thing, he ruthlessly reminded himself. Removing Harry…. no, Potter… from his wards was for the best.

Resolving not to think about the infuriating boy any more, Severus stalked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large drink. Randomly selecting a book from the shelves, he took both to the chair beside the fire and attempted to loose himself in a book.

Thirty minutes later, he slammed the book shut. It did no good. Thoughts of Harry -Potter, he growled- wouldn't leave him. Desire for the brat warred with anger and outrage over that damned article. Why had Potter given that interview? Was it really a goodbye? Why did he let the Weasley bint get to him?

He stared morosely into the flames, looking for answers. A sudden whoosh sounded and Vane stepped out of the fireplace. “You look terrible,” Vane said in lieu of a greeting.

Severus raised his eyes briefly, and then turned back to the fire. “Get out,” he snapped.

Vane snorted, and walked to the cabinet across the room. “Thanks, I'd love a drink.”

Severus ignored the other man as he poured a drink and sank into the chair across from him. No doubt by now the Bar knew something was wrong between him and Harry. Why it was Vane questioning him instead of Devlin, Severus couldn't bring himself to care.

Several minutes passed in silence, when Vane sighed. “Why?” he asked simply.

Severus didn't pretend to not understand. “I have no use for a callous, thoughtless Gryffindor,” he spat.

Vane arched a disbelieving eyebrow and stared at Severus for a long moment. Severus refused to retract his statement.

Shaking his head sadly, Vane said softly, “Severus, you and I both know Harry is not callous. I can't argue the boy is occasionally thoughtless, but never cruelly so.”

Severus snorted. “I see you don't deny his Gryffindor tendencies,” he said dryly.

“Because they have no bearing on the situation, stop trying to distract me,” Vane snapped impatiently. He continued more softly, “Talk to me, Severus. What about that article disturbed you to the point you refused him?”

With a sneer, Severus growled, “If you think I'm going to sit here and bare my heart to you, you're more delusional than that fool of a headmaster. The first paragraph of that libelous article was all I needed to see the truth. If you were not so dim, you wouldn't be here asking asinine questions.”

Severus hastily climbed to his feet, and turned towards his lab. “I expect you to be gone when I return,” he said coldly. “You may inform Potter his belongings will be forwarded.”

His back to the other man, Severus missed Vane drawing his wand, and the body-bind hit him square in the back. Unable to move an inch, Severus silently fumed. He'd never expected Vane of all people to curse him in the back. The man didn't usually employ such under-handed tactics.

While he was inwardly berating Vane and himself for being so trusting, the other man levitated him to a chair. The instant the body-bind was removed, Severus reached for his wand, but he was too slow. Vane quickly bound him to the chair, and immediately followed with a silencing charm.

“You know, I see Devlin's enjoyment in this now,” Vane drawled. “It's nice to know you'll have to listen for once.”

Glaring at the man, Severus tried to reach the handle of his wand peeking out of his pocket. “Ah ah,” Vane tutted. He summoned Severus' wand. “None of that now, Severus. You are going to sit there and listen to me.”

Deliberately closing his eyes to show he was ignoring Vane, Severus tried to close his mind as well. But it proved impossible. The first paragraph of the interview rolled off Vane's tongue, and Severus again felt the pain and anger it sparked.

At the next section, Severus imperceptibly cocked his head to hear better. Potter had defended him? The brat had unearthed the transcripts from his trial after the Dark Lord's first fall and used them to prove Severus had spied on the Death Eaters.

As Vane relentlessly read on, Severus felt an unfamiliar sensation cuddling in his stomach. It took him a moment to recognize it. Shame. It filled him side by side with a rising guilt. It was Harry's words that shook him the most. Severus opened his eyes and stared at the paper in Vane's hands as if that would allow him insight. Harry had defended him, had praised his sacrifices. The brat had openly acknowledged the apprenticeship and credited Severus with much of his learning.

“My respect and admiration for Severus Snape knows no bounds,” Vane read the last line.

Severus' eyes closed again, this time in confusion. His privacy was still violated, but he could no longer attribute any nefarious purpose to Harry's interview. Severus could read between the lines: Harry had only been trying to help.

The paper crinkled as Vane refolded it. He set the newspaper on the side table and released the silencing spell. “Do you still think him callous?” Vane asked gently.

“No,” Severus said shakily. “Please remove the bonds,” he asked quietly.

A flick of his wand and Vane dissolved the ropes. “Did he deserve to be locked out?” Vane continued relentlessly.

Severus shook his head. No, Harry hadn't deserved his anger. “Please leave,” Severus demanded curtly. He needed to be alone. He had to find a way to secure Harry's forgiveness. If it could be secured. Severus feared he'd finally pushed Harry too far. Even a foolishly forbearing Gryffindor had limits. What if I've pushed him past them? Severus wondered sadly.

“Severus,” Vane began.

Cutting off the man with a raised hand, Severus looked Vane in the eyes. “I do have a conscience,” he admitted quietly. “Allow me time to follow it.”

With a sad smile, Vane nodded. “I know you do, my friend.” He rose from his chair and crossed to the fireplace, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the flames. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.” With that he was gone.

A slim sliver of the moon peeked from behind the high, stringy clouds. Though the clouds covered many of the stars, Sirius was clearly visible. Lying on a wooden bench with one foot braced on the ground, Harry stared up at his godfather's namesake. Wishing on stars might be for children, but Harry needed reassurance. His heart ached.

Even the remembered pain of that locked door was enough to make him feel vaguely ill. He couldn't understand the extent of Severus' anger. Harry sighed heavily and absently wished he'd brought a bottle of alcohol with him. It would do nothing to dull his pain, but it might warm him. The cool night air of late September raised goose-bumps on his arms, but Harry couldn't be arsed to summon a coat.

The longer he lay there the bleaker his thoughts became. The chill seemed to seep into his skin and encase his heart. Severus will never forgive me, he thought bleakly. His spirits were at the lowest they'd been since Sirius died, and Harry wondered again what he had done that was so wrong.

The ringing of boot heels on the flagstone path caused Harry to look towards the house. A dark figure strode down the path, the light from the house throwing his face in shadow. A moment later, Harry recognized Devlin by his height and authoritative stride. The older man's cloak whipped behind him in the light breeze, and Harry could see a bundle of fabric hanging from Devlin's arm.

“Dimwitted child,” Devlin said gently as he approached. When he reached the bench he shook out the bundle, revealing Harry's cloak. Devlin tossed the garment to Harry and snapped, “Put that on before you catch pneumonia.”

Harry sat up and pulled the warmed cloak around him. Devlin took a seat on the bench beside him. The other man dug in his pocket and smiled triumphantly as he pulled a pack of wizard cigarettes out. He pulled a cigarette from the pack and then passed them to Harry. “This time you can smoke my fags,” he said with a grin.

Shaking his head at Devlin's antics, Harry accepted the small box. Lighting one, he leaned back against the bench. He looked again to the stars, but the clouds had thickened and now covered the Dog Star. Harry sighed. “How do I make it right?”

As Devlin exhaled a cloud of smoke trailed into the sky. “I don't know that you can,” Devlin said softly. “I think you'll have to wait for Severus to come to terms with himself.”

“Why would that article make him so angry?” Harry asked plaintively.

“I don't know for certain, but I can make an educated guess.”

Harry turned to Devlin. “Then do it,” he demanded. “An educated guess is better than nothing. I don't understand why he locked me out. Why he wouldn't talk to me.”

Dropping the cigarette on the ground, Harry crushed it out with his boot. He turned to Devlin; the other man wore a contemplative expression.

“You know what Severus' life has been like,” Devlin began quietly. “It's my guess that he subconsciously expects betrayal.”

Harry winced; he felt like Devlin had just punched him in the gut. Betrayal? That had never been his intention.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. Harry met Devlin's eyes as the dark haired man hastened to say, “I don't mean that he sat around waiting for you to stab him in the back, Harry.”

Nodding his understanding, Harry leaned into Devlin's warmth.

“All I'm saying is that Severus' life has been a series of letdowns from people he trusted.” Devlin wrapped his arm around Harry and tugged him closer. “And when he read that article, I fear he saw it as another instance of duplicity.”

Trying to understand a life that bleak, Harry sat in Devlin's embrace and wondered if Severus, who'd held a grudge for nearly twenty years against a dead man, would ever come to terms with this. “He's never going to get over this,” Harry said with a sad laugh.

“Well, I don't know about that,” Devlin said slyly.

When Devlin didn't expand on the comment, Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “Don't leave me hanging like that,” he complained.

Ruffling Harry's hair, Devlin smiled smugly. “I sent Vane to… well, let's just say, help Severus see the truth.”

Harry lifted a questioning brow. “In what way?”

“I suspect Severus didn't read the entire article. If he had, he wouldn't be this angry,” Devlin explained.

“And?”

“Didn't you read it either?” Devlin demanded incredulously.

Harry shrugged. “Didn't have time. By the time Hermione pointed it out, the Fianna called.”

Huffing indignantly, Devlin drawled, “The first bit of that article was unflattering to say the least. The reporter rehashed all the rumors and innuendo surrounding Severus and his defection from Voldemort.”

“Fuck,” Harry muttered. “If he thought I authorized that kind of shite, no wonder he was so pissed.”

Harry hoped Vane would be able to convince Severus to read the rest. He really hoped the reporter had limited his malice to that first part. It had been really nice of Devlin to send Vane. “Wait a minute,” Harry said suddenly. “Why would you send Vane? It's not like you to send others to do your dirty work.”

A familiar wicked grin crept across Devlin's face. “I'd have gone myself,” he said dryly. “But I didn't think you'd appreciate your lover bruised and bloody when he apologized to you.”

Laughing, Harry laid his head on Devlin's shoulder. “Severus doesn't apologize,” he said lightly. “He reassesses his opinion of the subject.”

Several moments passed quietly, and Harry soaked up all the comfort he could from Devlin. The older man wasn't quite what he wanted, but he'd do in a pinch. At least until Severus came back. Harry held firm to Devlin's apparent belief that he would.

The silence was shattered when a voice from behind drawled snidely, “I see how things work around here.” Luc walked around till he faced them both. “Really, Devlin, you're constantly scolding me for letting my hands linger, yet I find you cuddled up to the brat.”

“Haven't you heard?” Devlin began seriously. “Harry is so irresistible that I've rethought my love of women. We'll be running away together to be married and have wild, impassioned man-sex.”

Devlin sounded so sincere that even Harry, who knew the truth, nearly believed him. Luc's eyes went wide and flickered between the two of them disbelievingly. Harry couldn't help it; after the stress and upset of the evening Devlin's announcement struck him as terribly funny. He laughed so hard, he ended up bent double trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Very funny,” Luc snarled.

Devlin chuckled as he pounded Harry's back. “I admit it was amusing,” Devlin said. “But really, there's no call for hysterics.”

Regaining his composure, Harry sat up, still giggling on occasion. “Thanks,” he said to Devlin. “I really needed that.”

“My pleasure,” Devlin said with a smug grin thrown in Luc's direction. “It was entirely my pleasure, Harry.”

It was after midnight, the clouds from earlier swept away with the wind. The dim glow cast by the quarter-moon was sufficient light for the dark eyes to immediately find the figure in the large bed. For a long time, Severus silently watched Harry sleep. Noiselessly removing his robes, he draped them over a chair and stripped his remaining clothes.

He let his eyes take in the slim body on the bed. The blankets were twisted and kicked to the foot of the bed, indicating Harry's restless sleep. Severus felt a pang in his chest. Harry always slept peacefully in his arms; it was only when Harry slept alone that nightmares plagued him. The soft moonlight leached the color from Harry's nude body. He looks like a marble statue of a god, Severus thought.

Shaking his head at his fanciful thoughts, Severus crossed the room and eased onto the bed beside Harry. Severus swept a loose lock of hair out of Harry's face and then leaned down and softly pressed his lips to Harry's. He kissed him gently, his tongue tracing the slightly parted lips and then dipping in to explore Harry's familiar mouth.

Harry responded sleepily, his tongue meeting Severus' lazily. Sliding his hand around Harry's waist, Severus lightly mapped the muscles in his lover's back. After a moment, he tightened his grip on Harry and rolled them both until Harry was stretched atop him.

The movement woke Harry. He looked down into Severus' eyes in confusion. It took him a moment to understand what was happening. His brow wrinkled. Why is Severus here? he wondered tiredly. “Severus?” he questioned.

“Shush,” Severus whispered. “No words.” Severus tangled his hand in his lover's hair and pulled Harry down for another kiss.

Giving into the kiss, Harry tried to clear the arousal from his head long enough to think. Severus had come to him. Harry took it as a sign that even if Severus didn't apologize, which was unlikely, he was at least willing to talk. And Harry had missed him. More than just the sex, Harry had missed the closeness. It had only been a day, but he wouldn't turn Severus away, not as long as there was a chance. And in all honesty, Severus' actions always spoke louder than his words.

Sensing Harry was thinking, Severus tried to pour into his kiss all he'd never be able to express in words. How sorry he was, how much he'd missed Harry. He poured his frighteningly desperate need for Harry's forgiveness into his caresses, and hoped Harry would accept it, and him.

The instant Severus felt Harry begin to participate in the kiss once again, he gave a relieved sigh. Running his hand up and down Harry's back languidly, Severus reveled in the sensation of having Harry pressed against him. He thrust his rapidly hardening cock against the solid length of his lover and hummed in satisfaction.

Harry slipped his hands into Severus' hair and returned the passionate kisses. It wasn't often Severus was underneath him, and though Harry always enjoyed their lovemaking, he appreciated the novel sensation. When Severus' legs fell open, Harry gave a shocked grunt as his cock slipped between his lover's arse cheeks. He broke this kiss and looked at Severus in confusion.

Severus simply gave him a small smile and wrapped those long, powerful legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Pulling his hand from his lover's hair, Harry trailed it down Severus' body and brought it to Severus' opening. As he'd suspected, Severus had prepared himself. Obviously Severus had planned this. Harry shook his head and smiled. Even Severus' apologies were Slytherin.

Reading the amusement in Harry's eyes, Severus shrugged. It wasn't often he cared to bottom, but the urge had struck him earlier as he'd thought about how to best make up with Harry. He wasn't doing it so much to appease Harry as he was to show his lover that he trusted him. And of course it was enjoyable on occasion to have Harry do all the work.

Harry slowly pressed into Severus, marveling at the heat and the tightness. As he sheathed himself carefully, he felt Severus relax and push against him. When he was fully buried, Harry rested his forehead against Severus' and exhaled heavily. He didn't do this often enough for it to have lost its thrill.

After a moment, Severus tightened his legs around Harry and thrust up against him. Harry took the cue and began to move. Keeping his thrusts slow and easy, Harry gazed into Severus' eyes, keeping them connected mind and body. He was surprised when Severus' Occlumency shields fell and he was suddenly drowning in Severus' thoughts.

Wanting Harry to understand what he couldn't say, what he might never be able to say, Severus dropped the barrier around his mind. He pushed the feelings he kept locked in his scarred, damaged heart to the forefront of his mind. He didn't know if what he felt for Harry was love, he had too little experience with that emotion to know for sure. But all the respect, admiration, lust, and that bewildering emotion that caused his heart to miss a beat every time Harry walked into the room was clearly visible.

Seeing Severus' feelings for him, Harry felt his eyes grow wide. He nearly cried when he realized what he was seeing. Severus didn't recognize love, not even when he was feeling it. His heart aching for his lover, Harry laid his hand on Severus' cheek and kissed him softly. Pushing aside his own desire to thrust wildly, Harry slowly and carefully made love to Severus.

Severus was awestruck. Never before had he felt so cherished. Harry treated him as if he were precious. Each pass of Harry's cock hit his prostate, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. Severus lost himself in Harry's eyes and the rhythm of their bodies, and his climax took him by surprise. He'd never come without direct stimulation before. He threw back his head and moaned softly as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure crashed through his body.

Watching the nearly pained bliss on Severus face, Harry committed the sight to memory. And then his body demanded all his attention. The need to come was overwhelming. Harry thrust once more, then again. Between the sound of Severus' release and the ceaseless clenching of the channel around his cock, he couldn't hold back. Harry lowered his head to Severus' shoulder and thrust a final time, and his orgasm roared though him.

Still wrapped around Harry, panting for breath, Severus rolled them on their sides. He felt Harry's spent prick slide from his body as he reached for his wand. With a quick wave and a muttered word, they were clean. He loosed his legs from around the younger man's waist and straightened them, but kept his arms around his lover. Pulling Harry's head down to rest on his shoulder, Severus kissed the sweaty, messy locks of black hair and then dropped into an exhausted slumber.

Smiling against Severus' chest, Harry sighed. Maybe things weren't perfect between them, but it was a definite improvement. “I'm sorry too, you git,” he murmured fondly.

Through the Fire

The grey predawn light filtered through the window. Stretching sleepily, Harry untangled himself from Severus. He stood beside the bed for a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and then stumbled to the loo. Due to the amount of alcohol the Bar had plied him with the day before, his bladder was quite insistent on relief.

Feeling much better, Harry quickly washed up and brushed his teeth. Walking back into the bedroom, he smiled. Severus was curled around Harry's pillow, holding it tight against his chest. Harry slipped on a pair of soft cotton draw-string trousers and then stood for a long moment watching his lover. Severus had come to him. Many of Harry's fears had been swept aside by the gesture. But they still had unresolved issues.

Harry had done his thinking the previous night after his talk with Devlin. He knew what he wanted. Severus. He had no intention of giving up on his lover. However, there was one very important point Harry wasn't willing to back down on. Severus had to promise not to lock him out again. Harry could handle Severus' temper; he could live with the biting comments. But the fear and pain he'd felt upon finding himself on the outside with no way in had hurt him deeply.

Settling at the large desk in the corner of the room, Harry pulled the tasseled cord that connected to the kitchens. A few minutes later a tray with steaming scones, a variety of muffins and, most importantly, a pot of strong, hot coffee appeared on the desk. The house-elves were well accustomed to his morning caffeine requirement.

After fortifying himself with a mug of coffee, Harry dashed off a quick note to Brody, apologizing for his abrupt departure and promising to contact him soon. He then turned his attention to writing a detailed account of the attack on Diagon Alley. He'd promised the senior Auror he'd have it delivered to the Head of the MLE by this evening. It had been the only way the Auror would let Harry leave yesterday without a trip to the Ministry.

Harry had nearly finished when he heard Severus begin to stir. Quickly wrapping up his report, Harry prepared a cup of coffee for Severus. He turned his chair to face the bed and waited. Severus stretched slowly, and eventually opened his eyes. “Morning,” Harry said softly.

It took Severus several moments to remember why he was at Sinister Place. Then the previous day came back to him in a rush. He tried to gauge Harry's mood, but he couldn't read anything in the younger man's bland expression. “Harry,” he greeted his lover cautiously.

Harry smoothly levitated the mug to Severus and sat back. He sipped at his own cup as he gave the older man time to wake up. After several minutes of tense silence, Harry said firmly, “We need to talk.”

Sighing, Severus nodded. “Indeed.” As much as he would have liked to avoid the upcoming conversation, he knew it was necessary. Severus had quickly realized he didn't want a life without Harry Potter in it. He was willing to do most anything to keep Harry with him; his only fear was what it would cost his pride.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have given the interview without talking to you first.” He ran a restless hand through his hair. “I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to correct a wrong that should have been addressed long ago.”

Hearing Harry's reason for talking to the reporter, Severus flinched. He'd fouled up worse than he'd thought. He'd come to realize Harry hadn't intended anything cruel, but he had not considered what goal his lover had been trying to accomplish. Shifting in the bed, Severus desperately wished he wasn't nude for this discussion. Between his guilt and the vulnerability his nudity left him with, he felt at a decided disadvantage.

Biting his lip to hide his smile, Harry stood and went to the dresser. Rummaging around, he came up with a pair of black silk sleep pants Luc had forced on him a while back. He tossed them to Severus. He wasn't sure when he'd learned to read the other man so well, but was grateful he could. He nearly laughed aloud at the stunned pleasure in Severus eyes when he saw the garment.

Throwing aside the sheet, Severus quickly slipped into the pants. He immediately felt more in control. “I realize it is impossible for you not to take my reaction personally,” he began, taking a few steps closer to Harry. “However, I was not thinking rationally. I regret it more than I can say.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Harry licked his suddenly dry lips. “I'm willing to just drop the whole thing,” he started softly. Looking up, he held Severus' eyes. “Except for the part where you locked me out.” He would not yield on this issue. Harry knew they could work past any future difficulties, but not if Severus' first reaction was to throw him out. “I can't live in fear that every time I make you angry you'll change the wards. No,” he corrected firmly, “I won't live like that.”

The mix of hurt and determination in Harry's eyes caused Severus' chest to constrict. This time he narrowed the feeling down to his heart. Frankly, he was surprised the battered organ was capable of such things anymore. But he didn't want to lose Harry. To keep the young man in his life, Severus was willing to accept the pain as well as the pleasure.

“I give you my word, it won't happen again,” Severus said solemnly. “When we return to Hogwarts, I will set the wards so that they can only be changed by both of us together.”

A brilliant smile lit Harry's face. “I promise not to give any more interviews without consulting you first,” he said impishly.

Severus snorted. “Come here, brat.”

Harry closed the remaining distance between them. “Here?” he asked huskily.

Snaking out an arm, Severus pulled Harry against him until their mouths were less than inch apart. “Right here,” he murmured.

Lowering his head a fraction of an inch, Severus pressed his lips against Harry's. He nipped gently at Harry's lower lip and the young man immediately opened his mouth. The kiss quickly turned heated, and Severus slid his hands down Harry's back, under the loose cotton pants until he could cup his lover's taut arse.

He squeezed the firm flesh in his hands, drawing a moan from Harry's throat. The responsiveness of the younger man always excited Severus. He was steering Harry towards the bed when the bedroom door opened suddenly.

Before the door was fully open, Draco's taunts began. “I heard you in here moaning, Potter. What's the problem, missing your imaginary lover?”

Severus' head shot up. Removing his hands from Harry's behind, he glared at the blonde. “Mr. Malfoy,” he hissed. “I know your mother taught you better manners than to invade someone's privacy without knocking.” He loosened his grip on Harry so the other man could turn around.

Harry turned in Severus' arms and had to snicker at the flabbergasted expression on Malfoy's face. Draco's silver eyes flicked wildly between the two men; he was seemingly at a loss as to where to start. “Severus, tell me you're not fucking Harry bloody Potter,” Draco whined.

A large hand suddenly clamped down on Malfoy's shoulder, and a cold voice drawled, “Not at the moment, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry barely suppressed a giggle as Malfoy started violently and whirled around. “But if you had waited a couple more minutes he might have been,” Devlin finished dryly.

“Did I give you leave to touch me, you big oaf?” Malfoy snapped imperiously.

Devlin glared down at the blonde. “I advise you to moderate your tone when speaking to me,” he growled. He pulled Draco away from the door and pushed him back into the hallway. Turning to Harry and Severus he smirked. “Sorry to interrupt your reconciliation, however, there are several things that need to be discussed before you return to Hogwarts. I took the liberty of calling a meeting of the Bar in fifteen minutes.” With a mocking half-bow he left, closing the door behind him.

Sighing heavily, Harry leaned back against Severus. From the hall they could hear Devlin berating Malfoy. “I am tempted to give you the thrashing your father obviously neglected to carry out. The first day you arrived you were informed of the rules of this house, and respecting the privacy of my cousins is the most important one.”

As the voices trailed down the hall, Harry couldn't hear words any longer, but there was no mistaking Draco's whining tone.

Dropping his head back onto Severus' shoulder, Harry smiled up at his lover. “I guess this means no make-up sex.”

Severus chuckled dryly. Leaning down, he kissed the upside-down smile. “I promise to make it up to you this evening,” he murmured huskily.

The Bar was already assembled in the library when Harry and Severus walked in. Harry was annoyed to see Draco present as well, but understood it was probably best to have him here, both to keep the little ferret out of trouble, and hopefully to teach him that there was another way to power besides Voldemort. But that didn't mean Harry was happy to see him.

Sinister Place had always been a place he could go for undemanding companionship, where people knew him as simply Harry, and he didn't have to wear his public mask. But with Malfoy living there, Harry didn't feel as free to be himself. The worst part was he'd suggested Draco stay here, so he didn't feel he had the right to complain.

On the large table in the center of the room was a selection of scones and fruit as well as a large urn of coffee. Harry filled a plate and two mugs of coffee and then joined Severus on the settee. He passed a cup to his lover and settled the plate on his lap. The group chatted quietly about inconsequential matters while Harry and Severus ate.

Eventually a house-elf popped into the room, gathered the empty plates and refilled the coffee cups. Finished with his tasks, the elf snapped his fingers and left. Devlin cleared his throat meaningfully and everyone turned their attention to the leader of the Bar Sinister.

“Early this morning I received a message from one of my Ministry sources,” Devlin began. “Fudge has been removed from office.”

Harry blinked twice. “About time. But why now?”

“Fudge stuck his head in the sand one too many times,” Vane drawled. “And this time there isn't a shovel big enough to dig him out.”

Ignoring the laughter around him, Severus asked, “While Fudge's incompetence is without question, what effect will his leaving have on our plans?”

“Nothing we had in motion had relied on Fudge, right?” Harry questioned.

Devlin opened his mouth to answer when Draco interrupted. “Saint Potter extorting the Ministry, who would believe it?”

Glaring at the blonde, Harry said hotly, “Hey, it's not like we're paying anybody off.”

Draco snorted. “Right, Potter. You have plans concerning the Ministry, but you're not bribing them. Next you'll be trying to sell me a Heliopath.”

“Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, in your no doubt vast experience, what methods do you favor?” Devlin drawled.

Malfoy preened under the question. “Bribes are on occasion an acceptable method,” he began pretentiously. “However, it's better if you have damaging information to use against someone.”

“Ah, blackmail and bribery,” Devlin said lazily. “And you learned them both at your father's knee?”

Turning a disdainful glare to Devlin, Draco replied coldly, “Naturally.”

Waving a lazy hand, Devlin smirked. “Yes, they are favorites with those incapable of the more subtle political nuances.” He ignored Draco's sputtering, and turned to Harry. “Whilst blackmail and bribery can be effective, I've found that in the long run there are much better ways to deal with politicians.”

Grinning at Draco's outraged expression, Harry asked, “Such as?” He really wanted to hear Devlin's methods. Thus far he'd left most of the political maneuvering up to the Bar.

“Oh, I have to hear what you uneducated cretins believe to be effective,” Draco snarled, red-faced.

“While we do lack formal schooling,” Devlin began with a cool smile, “I believe you will find us to be adequately self-educated.” He waved a careless hand towards Gabriel. “Gabriel, perhaps you'll tell us why blackmail and bribery are risky?”

Not bothering to look up from sharpening his dagger, Gabriel answered with a rhetorical question. “Cause what do you do if your victim grows a backbone?”

“Or a conscience,” Sebastian interjected.

Flashing a smug smile, Devlin said, “Luc, your favored tactic?”

Leaning back in his chair, Luc casually crossed his legs. “My personal preference has always been trading favors. Minimal energy and risk for your return.”

Keeping his cool green eyes on Malfoy, Devlin called, “Vane?”

“For more long-term benefits I've found it useful to persuade people to my cause,” Vane said quietly. He took a sip of his coffee and added, “There's nothing like having a converted believer on your side.”

Harry grinned as he watched Malfoy stewing silently at the Bar's impromptu lesson. Hopefully it would stem the tide of the blonde's unthinking arrogance. Glancing at his lover, Harry rolled his eyes at Severus' bored expression. Severus had mentioned several times recently that he wished someone would put Malfoy in his place, but no hint of satisfaction that it was finally happening showed on his face.

Turning his attention back to Devlin, Harry was startled to hear the older man say, “For weak-willed individuals, you could always employ Harry's method.”

“I have a method?” Harry questioned with a frown.

Severus snorted. “Intimidation, Potter.”

Still frowning, Harry gave Severus an uncomprehending look. The black eyes narrowed, and Severus gave a heavy sigh. “Consider how you dealt with Fudge,” he began impatiently. “And your dealings with Dumbledore in the last month or so…” Severus trailed off when the light of understanding dawned in Harry's eyes.

“Oh, I see.”

“Didn't the Fianna teach you intimidation tactics?” Vane questioned.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, but their tactics usually included pulling a knife on your opponent.”

Everyone except Malfoy laughed. The conversation turned back to Fudge's leaving office. Though the issue was important, there was little they could do besides speculation. The vote was up to the public, not the Wizengamot, and Harry refused to publicly support any of the wizards running. All three candidates were known to the Bar only by reputation.

After the discussion wound down, Harry and Severus said their goodbyes and returned to Hogwarts.

Striding down the empty hallway, Severus Snape was deep in thought. Damn those Gryffindors anyway, he silently fumed. Granger had turned out to be a competent teacher despite his concerns. And it rankled. At least he didn't need to admit it aloud, though Harry, irritating creature he was, would surely have that knowing look in his eyes. Unfortunately there was little Severus could hide from his lover anymore. And that was as frightening as it was reassuring.

As he neared the door to the DADA classroom, he paused. It was unusually silent. Concerned, Severus pulled open the door and strode inside to an unexpected sight. The majority of the class was studiously writing away, but it was the ones not working that were a surprise. Five of his Slytherins and four of the third year Gryffindors were standing on opposite sides of the room with their noses to the wall. Harry was pacing around the room with a blood-stained towel held to his head. Every now and then, Harry poked a fidgeting boy with his wand.

“Potter, a word. Now,” Severus snapped, concern making his voice sharp.

The Gryffindor closest to Harry squirmed at Severus' harsh tone. Harry leaned down and spoke to the boy in a voice to low for Severus to hear. The student straightened immediately and was quiet.

Nodding in satisfaction, Harry pressed the towel tighter to the cut on his forehead and walked to the front of the room. He looked up at Severus and saw a mix of concern, frustration, and anger in his dark eyes. With a sigh Harry explained, “I was helping Parker and Adams up front when that lot,” Harry gestured to the boys lining the walls, “started throwing punches.”

“And you what? Decided to break up the fisticuffs with your granite skull?” Severus asked with a sneer.

“No, you bastard,” Harry hissed under his breath. “One of the little idiots drew his wand and threw a tripping jinx. I didn't see it in time and busted my head on one of the desks. I think it was one of your Slytherins.”

Severus smiled smugly and shrugged. Relieved that Harry wasn't injured too badly, he drawled, “Tell me, Harry. If the Savior of the wizarding world is incapable of avoiding a third year, what good is he?”

“Bite me,” Harry snapped. His head was pounding, and he felt foolish enough; a third year bloodied him, and Severus couldn't resist rubbing it in.

“I'm going to the infirmary,” Harry said tiredly as he turned to the door. “You deal with that lot.”

“I'm certain I can devise an appropriate punishment,” Severus said maliciously. He savored the flinches from the boys against the wall.

Glaring down at the Head of Gryffindor, Severus snarled, “If you would exert some control over the hooligans in your house, I wouldn't be forced to punish them so harshly.”

“Don't take that tone with me, Severus Snape,” Minerva said sharply. She primly adjusted the ledger on her desk. “I've presided over Gryffindor since you were in short-pants. Don't tell me what my house needs.”

Severus straightened to his full height and looked menacingly down his nose at the old tabby. “I'll thank you to leave my pants out of this.”

As McGonagall opened her mouth to retort, Severus felt the sudden pull of the spell he'd enchanted on Harry's pendant so long ago. His heart skipped a beat, and for an awful moment, his mind went blank. Harry was in danger.

Pulling himself together, Severus concentrated on finding Harry. As soon as the location became clear in his mind, he turned and left the room at a near run. All thoughts of his argument with Minerva fled his mind as he raced to the infirmary. He heard the click of heels rushing behind him, but paid them no attention.

The distance to the hospital wing had never seemed further. The staircases seemed to sense his haste and for once remained rigidly still. Hogwarts itself seemed to aid his flight. Turning the last corner, Severus offered up a quick, desperate appeal to any deity who would listen. Let Harry be okay.

Throwing open the double doors to the infirmary, Severus quickly assessed the situation. A wall of Black flames encircled a bed halfway down the room, and Ginny Weasley stood several feet back, pleading with Harry. “Harry, if you drop the flames we can be together. You haven't finished your potion. If you drink it, everything will be the way it was supposed to be…”

Severus growled low in his throat. He could see a half-empty vial in her hands. “Expelliarmus,” he snarled. The force of his spell shot the vial out of Ginny's hand and threw her across the room. The cool glass slapped into Severus hand. Without taking his eyes off the girl, he quickly bound her tightly, ignoring her whimpers and tears.

Pushing aside his boundless fury, Severus turned to the wall of flames. Cautiously holding out his hand, he edged towards the nearly ceiling-high blaze.
There was a gasp from the doorway. “Be careful, Severus,” Minerva said tensely. “I can feel the heat from here.”

But no scalding temperature met Severus' outstretched hand. Hoping against hope that he could pass though the fire once again, he slowly walked through the flames.

On the Other Side

The flames surrounding him danced wildly, casting macabre shadows. The temperature fluctuated drastically, going from near freezing to just shy of burning. Severus held his breath and pushed on, trusting Harry wouldn't harm him. Stepping through the wall of fire, he calmly patted down his smoking robes. He'd made it past the fire, but what he saw made him gasp.

Sitting on the hospital bed hugging his knees, Harry was chanting under his breath. It took Severus a moment to understand the hoarse whispers. “No one but Severus. No one but Severus.”

Severus faltered a moment. He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but Harry so lost and obviously shaken wasn't it. After a long moment, Severus cautiously approached the bed. “Harry, I'm here,” he said gently.

The sweat-sodden head shot up, and wild green eyes met his. “Severus?” Harry questioned. Harry reached out tentatively, and Severus immediately took the young man's hand and held it between both of his. “I'm here,” Severus repeated.

“I don't know what she gave me,” Harry said shakily. “But I can't concentrate, and I'm so tired. So tired.”

The whispered chant started up again, and Severus spared a thought to eviscerating the Weasley chit for doing this to Harry. Slipping a hand under Harry's chin, Severus tugged until his lover looked him in the eye again. “I'm here now, Harry,” he said firmly. “I can help you, but I need you to disperse the flames.”

Harry nodded seriously. “She can't get me through the flames,” he insisted. “Have to wait for you.”

His eyes fell shut, and Severus drew a deep breath. “Harry, I bound her,” he tried again. “I give my word, she cannot get to you. Please lower the flames.”

“You're here,” Harry said with obvious relief. “No one can hurt us in here.”

At a loss, Severus tried another approach. “Potter,” he snapped. “I have everything under control. Lower the flames. Now.”

The flames began flickering, and Severus caught a glimpse of Poppy levitating Ginny Weasley to another bed while Minerva stood over them both. “That's it, Harry,” he whispered encouragingly. “You are safe, drop the flames.”

After several minutes of whispered support, the flames finally flickered and died out completely. Severus breathed a sigh of relief. “You did well,” he murmured as he slid his arms around a shaking Harry and pulled the young man to his side.

With no thoughts other than relief in his mind, Severus held Harry against him for several moments. Harry's breathing slowed from panicked panting to the deep breathes that heralded sleep. Looking down, Severus saw his lover fighting to keep his eyes open. Slipping the hand still grasping the vial from around Harry, Severus lifted the potion to his nose and sniffed. Frowning, he placed his thumb over the top, tipped the bottle over momentarily, and then licked the small drop he'd collected.

He could smell and taste a strong sleeping draught, but it was mixed with something else. Something he couldn't pinpoint. Testing it could take several hours, and Severus didn't intend to wait that long. He hesitated, worry over Harry warring with his desire to force the truth from the Weasley girl.

The sound of booted feet striding rapidly down the hallway drew Severus' attention. Less than a heartbeat later, the infirmary doors flew open and Devlin burst inside. Pale green eyes evaluated the situation in an instant. Devlin crossed the room, and sat on the bed beside Harry. Running a soothing hand through the younger man's sweaty hair, Devlin asked softly, “He okay?”

Uncaring, for once, about public displays of affection, Severus gently stroked Harry's back. “I don't know,” he said bleakly. “He's ingested a partial dose of a sleeping draught laced with another potion.”

Glancing down, Severus sighed. Harry had lost the battle to keep his eyes open and had fallen into a restless sleep. “Without knowing the exact mixture, I am unable to predict his response,” Severus admitted in a whisper.

Severus turned his head and glared at the still bound and struggling Weasley chit, silently damning her obsession with Harry, and the headmaster for allowing her into the castle. The only thing he wanted more than to storm over and choke the information he needed out of her was to hold Harry until his lover regained his senses.

Turning his attention back to the man beside him, Severus wasn't surprised to see the barely leashed fury in Devlin's eyes. “I'll stay with Harry,” Devlin said sharply. Jerking his chin towards the girl across the room, he growled, “You deal with the bitch. I don't trust myself not to wring her neck.”

Gently shifting Harry onto the pillows, Severus raised an eyebrow and asked coldly, “What makes you so sure of my temper?”

Devlin snorted. “Harry,” he said simply.

With a disgusted `humph', Severus pulled a curtain around Harry's bed. A moment later he felt the tingle of a privacy spell wash over the area. Good, he thought grimly. Harry won't be disturbed by her screams.

Ignoring Minerva and Poppy's hissed admonishments to control his temper, Severus stood over Ginny Weasley and glared as he contemplated how to begin. After a moment he decided he should give the chit a chance. “What is in this vial?” he asked, holding the bottle in question in her line of sight.

The girl's mouth moved furiously but no sound reached his ears. Severus rolled his eyes and cancelled the silencing spell either Minerva or Poppy had cast on her. She immediately began shouting. “Let me go!” she demanded. “I'm not telling you anything, you bastard!”

Giving the two women a look that clearly said, “I tried,” Severus fastidiously rolled up the sleeves of his teaching robes and approached the bed. “This is you last opportunity, Ms. Weasley. Tell me what is in that vial or I will wrench the information from your unwilling, protesting mind. A painful process, I assure you.”

Apparently the girl had some knowledge of Legilimency. Her eyes screwed shut and she set her mouth in a mutinous line. Thought he could most likely pry into her mind without eye contact, Severus didn't have the patience it would require. Drawing back his hand, Severus delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Ginny Weasley's left cheek. Ignoring the indrawn breath from behind him, Severus followed up with a back-hand to her right cheek.

Her brown eyes flew open, bright with shocked tears. Immediately invading her mind, Severus latched onto a memory featuring the vial and without a care to subtlety or the pain it caused, followed it backwards. A moment later he had the information he needed.

He blinked twice and then carefully schooled his features blank. Silently casting a spell to stop the girl's pained whimpers, Severus crossed to Poppy's store-cabinet and selected a small green bottle. He delivered it along with dosing instructions to Devlin and helped the other man carry Harry to the Floo. Once satisfied his lover was on the road to recovery and cared for, Severus turned back on the chit who'd dared try to take Harry away.

Despite her initial shock at his methods Severus was pleased to note Poppy had not healed the now bright red marks on the girl's cheeks. Both Minerva and Poppy had settled themselves in chairs on either side of the bed and were watching Ginevra Weasley with undisguised contempt. One glance at the women showed Severus there was no chance of convincing them to absent themselves. Severus thought quickly.

Minerva was loyal to Harry; there was no doubt of that. And while Poppy's loyalties were unknown, the older woman had always had a soft spot for the brat. Not to mention, Severus had always found her trustworthy, more concerned with the well-being of the denizens of Hogwarts than the headmaster's politics. Nodding to both women, Severus pulled his habitual potions pouch from one of his many pockets and selected a small vial full of clear liquid.

Opening the stopper, Severus turned to the Weasley girl. “Open your mouth,” he ordered curtly.

With what Severus considered a pitiful glare the girl compressed her lips in a thin line and defied him once again. Severus simply arched a brow and waited. Several tense moments passed, and Severus lost his patience once again. “Very well,” he said with a sigh. Severus leaned over and pinched her nose closed tightly. Grateful the body bind kept the chit from thrashing, Severus waited her out. In less than a minute the girl's mouth opened as she gasped for breath. Taking immediate advantage, Severus tipped several drops of Veritaserum onto her tongue.

Releasing his hold on her nose, Severus stepped back and summoned a chair. Setting it near the head of the bed, he waited a few minutes to ensure the potion took effect. He soon observed the tell-tale glazing of her eyes and a thin line of sweat beading on her brow. Minerva and Poppy had remained silent and watching throughout. Once Severus was sure the girl was fully under the potion's influence, he lifted the silencing spell and began his questioning.

“Were you aware of the potion's effects when you gave it to Harry?”

“Yes,” Ginny responded in a monotone.

“What were your intentions once Harry was under its influence?” Severus demanded sharply.

Noticing the girl's eyes twitch, Severus leaned forward.

“To take him to Dumbledore.”

Beside him, Poppy gasped. Glancing across the bed, Severus noted with satisfaction the scowl on Minerva's face deepen as she crossed her arms and huffed.

Careful to word his question so there was no chance of evasion, Severus pried further. “And what exactly, in your understanding, would taking him to Dumbledore accomplish?”

“I overheard the headmaster talking,” the girl began. “He said if Harry were under the influence of a sleeping potion laced with a strong Suggestion Potion, that it would be easy to correct Harry's behavior. That he, Dumbledore, could overcome the bad influences Harry's been under the last few years. To correct his allegiance and to help Harry remember his affections for me.”

Severus wished he could say he was shocked. But too often had Dumbledore tried to get Harry back under his control. Too often had the old man ignored Harry's attempts to control his own life. Severus had always known Dumbledore was a manipulative old coot, but he'd never thought his one-time mentor would go so far. And to use a naïve, unstable child like Ginny Weasley? To use and even encourage her obsession? It was obvious Dumbledore would have to be watched even more closely. Severus would not risk the old man getting his claws on Harry.

Turning back to the drugged girl, Severus pressed on. “Did you overhear anything further?”

Even through the haze of the Veritaserum, Ginny Weasley smiled maliciously. “Dumbledore knows what you've been doing. You and your foul potions, taking advantage of Harry. But he's going to stop you, stop you and that so-called Bar Sinister.”

Severus stood in disbelief as the young woman's vile words continued. “You'll go to Azkaban for rape. What kind of sick man sexually manipulates a sixteen year old boy? You've had him under your thrall for years, but I won't let it continue. With you jailed, and Harry returned to what he should have been, it will be easy to prove the Bar's true loyalties. Everyone knows they're just biding their time before they either convert him to their cause or turn him over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Enough,” Minerva said loudly. Her wand whipped up and she silenced the Weasley girl. Turning to Severus, she gently laid a hand on his arm. “No one believes that, Severus. The girl is obviously unbalanced.”

With a blank expression, Severus stared at the girl. “No one has to,” he said quietly. “Innuendo alone would be enough to ruin me.”

For several long moments he was lost in thought, and then a slow, malevolent smirk crossed his face.

“What schemes are you hatching now, Severus?” Minerva asked warily.

Tapping his lip thoughtfully, Severus said gleefully, “Dumbledore has made a fatal miscalculation. Harry will not tolerate threats to the Bar. If this information is presented carefully, at the right time, we could remove the old man from his position of power.”

Severus turned his attention back to Ginny. “Give her another drop of Veritaserum,” he ordered McGonagall. “That should inhibit her more poisonous diatribes.”

“Are you sure you want to continue this?” Poppy asked from the other side of the bed.

“I must know everything she heard, and whether this was the extent of her plans,” Severus explained.

Forcing the girl's jaw open, Minerva administered the additional dosage. “I find myself wanting to know as well,” she admitted.

One glance at the Potions master's face was enough to encourage even the boldest of students to lower their eyes and step out of his path. No one was brave enough to draw his attention as Severus stormed through the castle. Reaching his quarters, Severus paused only long enough for the wards to acknowledge him. Shoving open the door, Severus had barely taken a single step inside the room when he was assailed with questions.

“Why did she do it? Where is she now? How badly did you hurt her?”

A glance around the room showed no signs of his lover. Severus sneered at Devlin. “Because she's insane. Gone far away. And only superficial injuries,” Severus responded succinctly. “Where's Harry?”

Nodding towards the partially open bedroom door, Devlin sighed, ran a hand through his unusually messy hair, and subsided onto the sofa. “I gave him the potion, but he's still sleeping it off. Woke once, called for you, then went back to sleep.”

Crossing the room in three strides, Severus gently opened the door until he could see inside. Harry lay on his side; he'd kicked the blankets off and was clutching Severus' pillow. Severus watched silently as Harry rolled over, still holding the pillow, and seemed to settle into a quieter sleep.

Satisfied Harry was safe, Severus dropped into the chair by the fire. Devlin opened his mouth, but Severus interrupted before the other man could speak. “Make yourself useful,” he said with a half-hearted sneer. “Fetch me a drink.”

Devlin crossed his arms over his chest and settled deeper into the cushions of the sofa. “Fetch it yourself,” he drawled.

With a sigh, Severus snapped his fingers twice and Dobby popped into the room an instant later. Before the creature could speak, Severus quickly asked for a bottle of scotch and two glasses. The house-elf seemed to sense the undercurrents in the room and for once complied without any chatter. He simply popped out and returned swiftly with the required refreshments, then left with a small worried bow.

The drinks were poured and each man sat back with a glass. Devlin took a sip and turned his eyes to Severus. “If you have finished stalling, perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me why the charms on Harry's ring went off?” Devlin demanded. Before Severus could attempt to answer, Devlin growled. “I thought you said he'd be safe here.”

“Dumbledore is far more determined to gain control of Harry than I'd anticipated,” Severus admitted.

“Explain,” Devlin hissed.

After draining his drink, Severus recounted his interrogation of Ginny Weasley. He was so tired, and emotionally drained from the whole thing he missed the paling of Devlin's face, the white knuckles griping the glass, and the hard glint that appeared in the opaline green eyes.

“Is the fool's plan to see us in Azkaban for the dementors' pleasure, or does he simply intend to blacken our name to the point we're reviled by the public and lynched in Diagon Alley?” Devlin demanded bitterly.

Severus snorted. “He intends to see me in Azkaban for rape.”

One of Devlin's arched brows flew up. “And who exactly did you rape?”

“Harry.”

Devlin's glass fell to the floor unheeded. “He's gone too far this time!” Devlin shouted as he leapt to his feet. “The Bar's reputation has always been dark, and we've never cared. But to accuse you of such an abomination? That is beyond the pale.”

Shooting a look to the bedroom door, Severus hissed, “Would you be quiet?”

When he was sure he had Devlin's attention, Severus continued. “I have no intention of allowing the old man's plans to come to fruition. But we must wait until the time is right.”

“I've had enough of waiting,” Devlin growled. “This time Dumbledore pays for his insults.”

Devlin stormed to the door and tried to open it, but it remained locked. His eyes flashing angrily, Devlin turned to Severus. “Open this damn door.”

Climbing fluidly to his feet, Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not. Not until you've calmed down.”

“Severus Snape, you bastard, open this door now,” Devlin demanded. “I'm not some child you can keep contained.”

With a snort, Severus looked down his nose at the other man. “Then you should stop acting like one,” he drawled. “Direct confrontation is not the way to counter Dumbledore. If you would just listen to my plan…”

“I've heard your plans,” Devlin roared. “Your plan is the reason Harry is unconscious in the other room.”

Severus paled at the cruel words. He sat down heavily in his chair and wondered if Devlin was right. Had he unintentionally put Harry in danger? Severus started when a warm hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder.

“Our plan, love,” Harry said firmly. Looking up, he glared at Devlin. “Coming back was as much my decision as it was Severus'.”

Looking over his shoulder, Severus checked Harry's face for any lingering effects of the potions. His lover was a bit pale, and his eyes were sad, but otherwise Harry looked recovered. “How much did you hear?” Severus asked.

Harry grinned down at him. “I wasn't asleep when you checked on me.”

Still trying to force the wards to let him pass, Devlin hissed, “Then you know why I plan to kill the old fool.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry raised the hand not on Severus' shoulder and with a flick of his fingers, had Devlin back in his chair. Another flick and the older man was magically bound to the chair.

“Damn it, Harry, let me up!” Devlin yelled at the same time the Floo flared green and Vane stepped out.

Glancing around the room, Vane raised an eyebrow. “Devlin's raging, Harry looks ill, and Severus is fuming. Dumbledore been down for tea?”

Harry bit his lip, but couldn't hold back the snicker. Severus glared at Vane, and Devlin's mouth opened several times, but he seemed beyond words. The tension broken, Severus hustled Harry onto the couch and plied him with whiskey. Vane sat near Devlin and once the other man was released promised to keep him in line. The four men settled down and began planning furiously for Dumbledore's downfall.

Several hours later they had a workable plan. The remains of dinner were spread out on the coffee table and they all sat back with a drink and relaxed. They were chatting comfortably when a sudden pall went over the room. Four wands suddenly appeared in their owners' hands, and each man scanned the area for the disruption. A moment later a cloud of black smoke formed in front of the fireplace. It slowly coalesced into a shadowy black serpent.

They watched warily as the serpent's mouth opened. A low malevolent hiss began. “Harry Potter, you have twenty-four hours to surrender yourself to me, or your head of house and precocious Mudblood friend will die.”

Harry gasped. “Hermione, McGonagall,” he whispered. He tried to keep up a whispered translation as the serpent spoke, but knew he neglected to translate parts of it.

The snake continued speaking. “They are currently enjoying the accommodations of Lucius' dungeons. If you are not at the gates of Malfoy Manor by this time tomorrow I will allow my Death Eaters to play with the witches. Any attempt at rescue will only hasten their death.” The snake coiled in on itself and disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

“Malfoy Manor,” Devlin stated. “Does anyone know the layout?”

Harry looked at Devlin curiously. He didn't remember mentioning where they were kept, but he was so caught up in the message he must have forgotten, or it was possible Devlin had picked it up by Legilimency; Harry had become careless with his shields in these rooms.

Shaking off the useless speculation, Harry turned to Severus. “Can you contact Lucius without alerting Voldemort?”

Nodding sharply, Severus said he could. Hurrying to the bookshelf, he plucked an old tattered copy of Talken's Innocuous Communications up and took it to his desk. Lucius had given him the book years ago and keyed it to the two of them. It had been ages since he'd used it. Hopefully Lucius would think to check it.

Harry turned to Devlin. “Call the Bar.”

Devlin rushed to the fireplace and was prepared to throw the Floo powder, when it suddenly flared. Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire and Devlin growled.

Smiling genially, Dumbledore's eyes searched the room until he found Harry. “Ah, my boy,” he began. “I just received a missive from a most extraordinary eagle owl.”

Both of Harry's brows shot up. “Headmaster, I'm a little busy now,” he said impatiently. “I have to find a couple of friends, so your mail will have to wait.”

Dumbledore frowned. “I must insist you listen. I believe it's very relevant.”

Harry sighed. “Quickly then.”

“The letter is signed Lord Voldemort.”

Harry was suddenly much more interested. “What does it say?” he demanded.

Adjusting his glasses, Dumbledore glanced over the parchment in his hand. “Simply that he has captured Miss Granger and Professor McGonagall and is holding them in exchange for you.”

Harry cursed. He'd hoped to keep the Order out of this, but now that hope was gone.

“I must confess, I can't locate either Miss Granger or Minerva anywhere in the castle,” Dumbledore continued. He fixed Harry with a piercing gaze. “I trust you aren't going to do anything foolish.”

With a bitter laugh, Harry shrugged. “Why change tradition now?”

This story archived at http://www.thesilversnitch.net/tss2/viewstory.php?sid=3938

---