AN: It's good to be back! Thanks for all the great reviews, you guys are the best. Fun to see new faces too. :) In this story I am writing mainly from Sirius' point of view, but there will be a significant presence of Harry in it too (ie: this chapter). I just feel that Harry's story was mostly done, at least in relation to Snape, and that there's far more angst to resolve with Sirius. But Harry also provides a good contrast for Sirius as well, I see them as radically different boys. Enjoy!

Sirius found it difficult to concentrate in class the next day because he was just thinking about the dream that he had had. He had been having a normal dream - something about him flying his broomstick over the ocean trying to catch some sort of flying fish - and suddenly Bella was there, flying beside him. She had looked just as he remembered her - a reckless, half-crazy witch with a thick mane of wild black curls and a cruel laugh. And she had laughed at him.

"Cousin Sirius, you are looking very young," she purred to him in her sinister voice. "I understand you are back at Hogwarts."

"Leave me alone, Bella," told her harshly. "You know that I want nothing to do with the family any more."

"We're all that's left now, Sirius," she quipped, smiling widely. "Let your dear cousin Bellatrix guide you. We have plans for you, we do."

"Who's we?" he asked her.

"Who do you think?" she smirked at him. "We have great plans for you Sirius. I never believed that you would really turn your back on us."

"You crazy witch!" Sirius yelled at her. "I hate you! I would never do anything for you!"

"Do you think you're one of them?" she sneered. "You're playing at being one of them Sirius. I know you, I know your blood. You will betray them, you may as well do it to your advantage."

"I would rather die than betray them," he told her, his teeth grit in anger. "Now go away before I kill you."

"Big words for a little man," she sneered. "You are not good, Sirius, no matter how hard you try. You cost Lily and James their lives, and you know it. You can't get away from the guilt just by becoming Harry's best friend."

Sirius, enraged at that point, swung his broom to crash into her. And that's when he woke, sweating and screaming.

"A Bezoar, Mr. Black," he heard Professor Snape's voice silkily ask him, bringing him out of reliving the dream and back into reality. "The class is waiting for you to enlighten us."

"It's useful for poison," he answered, wracking his brain.

"Indeed," Snape drawled. "However, that is not the question asked. Five points from Gryffindor for daydreaming. Miss Granger, please enlighten the class."

"The stomach of a goat," she answered triumphantly.

Sirius saw that Snape barely controlled rolling his eyes at her, but nodded and then went on with the lecture. He grimaced at how Snape seemed to be picking on the Gryffindors, though he had been told it was to maintain his cover and relationship with the Slytherins. Even though they knew that he had adopted their enemy, that could still be spun as an attempt to convert the enemy. Being kind to Gryffindors in general, however, was apparently another story. Even though Sirius had been warned that this was how it was going to be, it was still a hard adjustment to make. It's not that the greasy Git had become his friend or anything, but they had sort of . . . declared a truce. And he had even begun to think of him as something of an Uncle over the summer, at least when he wasn't correcting him and Harry or forcing them to keep the house tidy because his girlfriend was coming over. Whatever.

Harry had actually had more of a problem in class than Sirius had realized. It was very hard for him to see his father, whom he knew to be fair and even-handed to roll his eyes and openly mock the Gryffindors. His father had carefully avoided doing it to him, but Harry still felt the cruelty. He was beginning to understand why the older Gryffindors couldn't believe that he liked being adopted by him.

Professor Snape had told his son that he was allowed to come to his quarters any day at four for tea, and it did not surprise him when Harry showed up on the first day. He had thought the first potions class would send him up here if nothing else would.

"How was your day?" he asked Harry in his normal tone.

"Surprising," Harry answered, accepting a cup of tea.

"I would imagine that it would be," Snape answered, sipping his own tea. "Why don't you tell me about it."

"I had no idea that you would hate Gryffindors so much," Harry told him bluntly, reaching for a biscuit.

"I don't really hate them," Snape answered, frowning at the slightest bit of defensiveness in his voice. "We discussed this, remember?"

"I remember," Harry told him, looking down. "But I didn't realize how it would feel in real life. If I had known I would have tried to convince the hat to put me somewhere else."

"The hat sorts how it wants to," Snape shrugged. Then, studying Harry's face, he said softly, "I knew you were going to be sorted into Gryffindor, Harry."

"How did you know?" he asked, incredulous.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Really? After all the foolhardy things you've done?"

"I'll bet you're disappointed I'm a Gryffindor," he said, looking down.

"I of course would have loved you in Slytherin," he admitted. "But I also want you happy, Harry, and in the house you're supposed to be in. Gryffindor just makes our fiction a bit more interesting, that's all."

"I do like it there," Harry admitted. "And Ron, Hermione and Sirius are all there too. Even Neville."

"That one was a shock," Snape nodded. "I had him in Hufflepuff for sure."

"Draco is the only one I'm sad about," Harry admitted. "But we all knew he would be in Slytherin, so it's no shock."

Snape nodded, it had been no surprise.

"In class I felt like you hated me," Harry confessed honestly, putting down his tea and not making eye contact. "That was really hard for me."

"Hard enough to require a hug?" Snape asked, his lips pressing together in consideration.

"Yes," Harry said, and Snape found his tea nearly knocked out of his hand as Harry practically dove on him to get a hug.

"No need to knock all of my air out," Snape told him in a grouchy tone, but wrapped his arms around the boy. "You know you get a hug any time you want it."

"Any time?" Harry asked, his eyes shining.

"Of course, foolish child," Snape chided gently. "When have I ever told you no?"

"What if I asked you in the middle of a potions class?" Harry asked, cheeky.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps I would wait until after class to give it to you," he said, his voice silky. "Or perhaps I would give it to you in front of all your friends if you preferred."

"I'm not sure who would be more embarrassed," Harry chuckled, feeling much better about his Dad being his professor.

"I know this will be hard for you," Snape told his son softly. "That's why I warned you about it. But I want you to remember that this is subterfuge, and what we say here is real."

"So if I'm cheeky and force you to give me detention in class I'm just helping with your subterfuge?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Of course," Snape answered, his eyes twinkling. "And of course we would have to do a real detention as well, to keep up appearances if nothing else."

"Perhaps I should complain to Fiona about how cruel you are to me in class," Harry told him, his mischievous smile twinkling now. "I'll bet she'll set you straight."

"You little imp!" he told his son, barely able to keep from smiling himself. "If you do, I will tell her about who really was responsible for her face cream turning her face purple this summer."

"She already knows it was either me or Sirius!" Harry protested.

"Yes, and now she will be sure."

"How did you know?" Harry asked curiously. "I was very careful."

"Not careful enough," Snape replied. "You really ought to clean your own cauldrons, and brewing in our own lab at home means that the portrait sees you."

Rolling his eyes, Harry acknowledged defeat. "Fine, you win," he replied with as much grace as he could muster. "But I really wanted to talk to you about something important as well."

"What was that?"

"I'm worried about Sirius," Harry admitted. "He's been having . . . dreams. I think his problem in potions today was because he hadn't slept well."

"I will inform Remus," Snape nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

"And there's one more thing . . ." Harry said hesitatingly.

"What is it?" Snape looked at the boy, carefully examining his body language. This was something he was less sure about.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry told him, looking away. "I feel foolish even telling you."

"I would like to know your most foolish concerns," he assured the boy. "Something is bothering you, you should trust your instincts that it is more than it appears."

"Well, it's about that professor, I think his name is Quirrel," Harry admitted. "You know, the one that wears the turban."

"Yes, I know him," Snape replied neutrally.

"What do you know about him?" Harry asked.

"He's a young professor, about my age," Snape told him. "He was in Ravenclaw, so I can't remember his year. He used to teach muggle studies, he was raised by a muggle mother but I believe he had a wizard father. Anyway, he took a year off last year for a grand tour of some sort, and he's teaching defense this year. The turban was due to some religious experience he had while on his trip, I've heard."

"There's something about him that makes me feel uncomfortable," Harry confessed. "And during dinner last night, well, my scar hurt when I was looking at him."

"You were looking at his eyes?"

"No," Harry admitted. "He was looking away. But my scar hurt, and it's never done that before."

"Let me see your scar," Snape told him, lifting his wand for a diagnostic. After the diagnostic, Snape still felt unsatisfied with the results. Why would a scar, even a magically induced one, hurt like that? And for the first time in ten years?

"It's never hurt before?" he confirmed, examining it with his fingers this time.

"Never," Harry told him.

"I feel a trace of dark magic around the scar," Snape told him. "But I'm not sure that isn't just because of the event that caused the scar. We should have Dumbledore have a look at it."

"I feel like a baby," Harry admitted. "It didn't hurt that badly, it was just . . . strange."

"I will talk to the headmaster and we will see him tonight after dinner," Snape promised. "Thank you for telling me."

"It still does feel strange, this telling you thing," Harry admitted. "I have to remind myself that you actually want to know."

"Of course I do."

"Well, you remember when I fell off my broom and hurt myself and didn't tell you?" Harry asked him.

"You had a severe puncture on your backside and broken ribs," Snape remembered. "And you didn't tell me until Molly Weasley accused me of beating you."

"Well, that was normal for me," Harry told him.

"I see," Snape replied seriously. "I appreciate your believing me, then."

"You'd smack my backside if I didn't," Harry replied, cheeky again.

"Of course," Snape agreed smoothly. "I believe I promised you the ruler if you ever again hurt yourself and didn't tell me."

"So really I'm not a baby telling you, just avoiding the ruler."

"I'm sure you'll get it at some point anyway," Snape replied dryly. "The year has just begun."