A/N: It makes me so happy that everyone seems to like the new version of the fic so much. Thank you all for being so full of awesome. Everytime I see there is a new review I do a little dance of joy. Thank you!


Chapter four

Two worlds


The morning light was soft and radiant, and it made the white-blonde hair of the boy shine like a halo. In undisturbed sleep, the ghost of a dream smile made his small face relax, smoothing out the worry-lines that otherwise marred it. Narcissa watched him, wrestling with the huge and terrible affection that rose in a boiling, choking wave in her chest and arrived in her eyes like tears. Her love for him was making her ill, twisting inside her like a dark storm of words she didn't know how to speak, in gestures of care and concern that hesitation and insecurity turned crippled and useless before they could do any good. He was so small and so unfinished, she didn't know what to do about him. What did a child want? What did he need? Nobody had ever told her. Maybe you were supposed to just... know. But how could she do that?

She'd never been taught to take care of anyone but herself, never been taught to look after anyone else's interests.

Draco twisted in his sleep, his face now serious and a bit cold. She shuddered. There was a ghost in her son's bed...

"You look like your father," she told the boy, the ghost, in a whisper. "He was eleven when I first met him. I was five. Bella..." Her voice faltered, and came back weakened by sorrow. "My sister... she was eight." She didn't mention the other sister, the oldest sister. She had been fifteen by then, and already on her way somewhere else. Somewhere they couldn't follow. "It was us and the Rosier kids, the Lestrange brothers... our cousins too. Sirius was there mostly because Regulus was always trailing after us, even though he was only three. Back then, he was so protective." She shook her head, memory chasing through her mind. "Lucius was the leader, even though Rodolphus was one year older than him. Rhoddy was much shorter, of course, but it wasn't about that. Lucius knew how to give orders, and even more important, he knew how to be obeyed. He never forgot that, of course."

She sighed, walking into the room and over to the window, gazing out over blossoming lilacs and the riotous greenery that sprawled over the vast garden. A peacock gave her an unintelligent, half-crazed bird stare from a tree and dived for cover. "We knew that we were going to get married, of course. Mother had explained it all to me. I protested that he was a big kid, but she just laughed and said that in a few years, that wouldn't matter anymore. She was right, of course. I fell in love with him when I was thirteen, when he was nineteen. He just thought I was a silly girl. That he'd played with me and my sister when we were younger was something he denied. Only sissies play with girls." She sighed, not without bitterness. "I liked your father when he was a sissy, Draco. I liked him for real, liked him as a friend. Not as a silly girl, dumb with admiration of the handsome boy she would once marry. Of course," she said, a wry smile pulling at her lips, "when I turned sixteen, your father wasn't that bothered by me being a silly girl anymore. My mother had been right. Eleven years later, him being a big boy didn't matter anymore. We started going out, which was the polite way of saying that everybody turned a blind eye to him taking my clothes off and making a big girl out of me. And when I was seventeen, we married. I was so much in love with him, and he worshipped the ground I walked on."

She lifted her hand to her hair, loosening the tight bun she kept it in, and she let it fall like a wave of silver-gold, slightly curling strands around her neck. She didn't wear the severe layer of makeup that she usually put on, it was too early, and she suspected that she really must look quite dishevelled and wild right now. Still, who was there to see her? Lucius was gone. Again.

"We had... difficulties. I didn't get pregnant, didn't bloom out in childbearing fullness the moment he touched me without prevention spells. At first, they thought I was barren, just like Be... like my sister, who'd had to bear the shame of not being able to produce an heir." She didn't say it out loud, even though her son was sound asleep, but in her heart she knew that that had been what broke her sister, opened a crack that would just grow and grow as she got more and more involved with the Death Eaters. That, and the deep unfairness in that Andromeda had become pregnant as soon as that filthy mudblood husband of hers looked at her.

"But I wasn't barren. Lucius and I kept trying and trying, he believed in me even if no one else did, and I wasn't barren. You should have seen my parents when I told them I was pregnant..." A small, wistful smile played on her lips, as she remembered her mother's joyful laughter, her father's silent tears. "And then I had you, and..." she was about to say something about the pride she had felt, but then bit her tongue bloody to keep it silent. No. She was going to forget. "And I loved you," she said instead, softly. "I loved you from the first moment I looked upon you. I am not a good mother, but I have always – always – loved you." Her voice choked on tears, and she fell silent.


"Mother?" said a sleepy, small voice. She turned around, and there was laughter in her eyes, together with a sorrow that was deep and new and horribly frightening to an eleven-year-old boy.

"Good morning, Draco," she said.

"Mother?" said the boy again, confused. "What were you saying?" When he got no answer, just his mother shaking her head and closing her eyes, he added, tentatively, "You are beautiful today." And then he fell silent, afraid that he'd said something that he wasn't allowed to, that he'd broken some kind of rule.

Narcissa stared at him, very silent and serious, for a long and horrible moment, before she suddenly laughed, and he relaxed. She did a girlish pirouette, a very unmothery gesture. "Oh Draco, let's... let's... let's have a picnic!"

At first, the boy was stunned out of words and wits. He couldn't even remember that his mother had ever wanted to play with him. That was what dad did. But then joy burst forward. "Awesome!" he called happily, swinging out of bed. He had never seen his mother quite like this, and it was – somewhere, deep down – very frightening, but the joy at seeing her smile was bigger and more urgent. "Let's get the house-elves to make food and let's have a blanket – we can take the tapestry in the second drawing room, right? – and a big basket and warm clothes so I don't catch a cold because dad would be angry and lets walk to the other side of the lake and..."

"No, you silly thing," she said with a smile. "Not in the garden. Outside. We'll walk through the forest until we find the fields, and we'll have a picnic on the border, where the grass is so short and soft. Do you remember?" They had gone there a few times, many years ago, right before Lucius started being unfaithful. They had dressed up in pretty clothes and met with the Notts for what was more like small dinner parties than picnics. Draco had never forgotten it, and when they stopped going there, he had for a while had begged his father for a revisit, but had only gotten sharp reprimands for it.

Draco froze, apparently he remembered too. "Father..."

The fear she had expected to feel wasn't there. "Your father is working. He won't know." When she saw that he hesitated she fell to her knees by his bed and grabbed his hands. "Please come with me. Just you and I. Please." She was pleading now, and Draco was helpless, could do nothing but nod in agreement.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a clean set of robes, and on impulse let his hair be just as it was. Just like mother. And the reward was a small chuckle when he came into the kitchen. She had prepared the food for the day herself, he noticed, with worry once more squirming inside him. She had managed the scatter bread-crumbs all over the kitchen, she had crashed a plate, and she was sucking her finger where she had cut herself on the knife. There was a hectic blush over her cheeks and a gleam of tears in her eyes, but she touched his face so gently and she laughed, and he realised that she was happy. So he said nothing.

They went alone, not followed by the usual house-elf, and his mother was singing as she went. Her voice was rather thin and didn't always hold, but somehow Draco liked it. He didn't know how to set words to it, didn't even know exactly what it was. But in him was the knowledge that her voice was the voice of someone who usually only spoke in whispers and murmurs, someone that now somehow was free, and that was what made it beautiful.

If only he could see his mother in this woman. But she was strange and wild, and even though he was happy he got the feeling that it was because... because she was also sad.


They reached the familiar clearing after half an hour, sat down together in the sunshine. Someone had been there before them; there was a charred patch on the ground, some curled-up coloured wrappers, a couple of some kind of garishly coloured tin cans. Muggles, no doubt. But what did they care? They were alone now, that was all that mattered.

After having eaten a couple of the misshapen sandwiches, she fished out a letter from her pocket, handing it to him. It was time to tell him.

"You were accepted."

He looked down at the red wax seal, the yellow parchment and the green ink, and he started to tremble.

"Hogwarts?"

She nodded

"I will have to leave, won't I?" he wondered, trying to sound offhand but not quite managing. Narcissa sighed, a bit regretful.

"Yes, Draco. You will have to leave. But it will be nice to get away a bit. It will be good for you to get out into the world. There is much more to the world than Malfoy Manor, my love, even though your father seems to think I have forgotten." There was such cutting bitterness to the last words that her son had to turn his head away.

"It's a bit... scary." He was loath to admit it – he eleven and a half already, after all. But she was his mother, and if he couldn't tell her, then who?

To his surprise, she smiled. "That is good. A little scariness is just healthy for you. It helps you remember that you're alive. And there will be so much more to feel that it won't seem that bad. There are so much that ought to be felt, Draco. Feelings oughtn't to be wasted, not even fear."

He looked at her, confused, because he wasn't sure he understood. Nor did he know if he was comfortable with the craving longing that opened in his mother's eyes like a gate into a new world, a big world that seemed to be full of not getting things that you want. He didn't want to see that, she was his mother and he couldn't handle her pain.

He looked down at the envelope, opening it and pulling out its contents. But as he stared at the letters, they made no sense to him; the words seemed to be all jumbled up, jumping back and forth in front of his eyes, dancing and swirling relentlessly. He suddenly felt, just as she had said, that the fear burned in him with the strength of being alive, and aware of that life he was suddenly afraid to lose it. He knew he had to escape.

He flew to his feet, impatient and anxious. "Come! Let's run!" He was shocked to hear that he was shouting, even more frightened when he noticed he was trembling. But his mother stared at him like a trapped animal that suddenly senses a chance for freedom, and she stumbled to her feet too, tripping and sliding and then running, running.

They ran across the fields, ran with the sun warming their backs, running fast, ran more away from than to. But after running for what seemed like an eternity, they were back at the place where they had left the food, and the woods were growing darker. The fields behind them stretched seemingly endless, and the blue gloom of dusk was ageless and old at the same time, full of ancient terror. Draco took his mother's hand, and they started to walk back to the manor, silent and resigned.


"Uhm..." Severus felt Harry pull at his sleeve. "There is an owl sitting in the kitchen window. It... I think it's holding a letter."

Severus looked up to see the boy watching him with eyes huge, round eyes, glancing from time to time towards the kitchen door, looking exited and nervous at the same time. Severus stood up, smoothing down his robes, careful to appear calm even though his insides had erupted into fire and ice. He had expressively forbidden everyone he knew to send him letters by owl post. This could only mean one thing.

The Hogwarts letter had arrived.

And sure enough; the small, speckled owl sitting in the window was indeed carrying a letter with the Hogwarts seal on it. It looked exactly like the letter that he could remember having received, so many years ago. The feeling of the rough parchment against his fingers brought back memories of the endless relief he had felt as he had read his own letter, the sudden, surging hope for freedom and a life that was not unkind.

It looked like his letter; it looked like hers. The relief he had felt at receiving his own letter had only been surpassed by seeing the same letter in her hand, as she came charging down the road towards him, forgetting caution in her glee.

"I got it, Sev! I got it!"

She had crashed into him, hugging him tight, and even though it was a lie, he had whispered, "I knew you would." As if that fear hadn't been real, as if he hadn't been feverishly clutching his hands and praying to whomever might be listening that please, please let my friend come to Hogwarts too. And he pressed his face against her shoulder as they hugged to dry out the tears that he couldn't allow her to see.

They had dreamed together, hoped together.

For him, the hopes had been crushed. Crushed in two pairs of eyes, grey and brown, as he had seen himself reflected - defeated, humiliated - in their depths. As their scornful faces had looked down on him, he had known that he was still weak, still nothing. He wasn't worthy of her. He had to find a way, any way, not to be weak. He had to find a way to prove to her... to prove to her...

He looked down to see a pair of brilliantly green eyes shine up at him, a sharp blow from the past. What had he proved, other than that he truly was unworthy?

He'd prove that he was better now. Harry, the only human through the whole of his sad, sorry lifetime that truly and unselfishly loved him, was already proof of that he didn't have to be what he had made of himself. That he could change. That he was worth someone's love; he hadn't been worth hers, but he was better now.

And Severus found himself praying feverently that Harry would not feel relief when he was reading the letter. Pride, yes. Expectations, certainly. Anxiousness, fine. Even fear was good, in its way. But not relief. Harry longing to go to Hogwarts was just as it should be; Harry longing to get away from him was... failure.

He handed the letter to the boy. "Here you go. This is for you."

Harry turned over the letter, mouthing the address as he read it. "Look! It even tells where I sleep. Right there!" He pointed. "'The Bedroom Next to the Kitchen', it says. How come they can tell?"

Severus beckoned with one finger to join him, as he sat down by the kitchen table. Harry was eyeing the letter in his hands with wonderment. They sat opposite to each other; partly so that Severus could watch Harry's every move, every expression, and partly so that Harry couldn't see how he clenched his trembling hands in his lap.

"You need to listen very carefully now, Harry. The contents of that letter as well as what I am going to tell you is very secret, and you are therefore not allowed, under any circumstances at all, to tell it to any of your friends. Not even miss Granger, do you hear me? Am I making myself clear?"

Harry nodded, so solemnly that Severus felt a strange urge to burst out laughing. However, it was an urge that passed very quickly. He nodded at the letter. "Open it, then."

He remained quiet as the boy read the letter; and then as he reread it, shaping each word with his mouth and leaving an echo of them in his stepfather's head. And then he sat silent for a long while, looking at the letter, the ceiling, his own lap, and then at Severus, imploringly. Severus sought for words.

"There are two worlds in which people live," he ventured, and as he said the words he knew that they sounded right. It was the right way to tell the boy.

("Tell me about it, Sev!"

"It's... It's like a whole different world, Lily. Like...there's this everyday, ordinary world, and then there's the magical world, and it's amazing!")

"So far you've lived in the non-magical one. But now it's time for you to enter the magical world. It is a world which, among many creatures, is inhabited by wizards and witches. I am a wizard, as was your father, and your mother was a witch. You are also a wizard, Harry."

"I am?"

"Yes. But I have been sworn to keep this knowledge from you, since the dark wizard that killed your parents still has followers, dangerous witches and wizards, and I had to keep you as hidden as possible. It was better for you not to know about it until it was... time." He swallowed hard. This was the difficult part. "That is also why you've stayed here under my name instead of your own. Your name – Harry Potter," if his voice for a moment failed him at the boy's true last name, Harry probably didn't notice, "is... famous. For almost ten years now, it has been known to every inhabitant of the magical world."

"Why?" said Harry, a bit anxious. Only anxious. The fear would come later.

Severus drew a deep breath, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. "Because your parents were killed by" – me – "the Dark Lord. He was a very powerful, very evil wizard. He was... people said he was trying to take over the world. He killed your parents for opposing him." The lie was huge and painful to speak, but the truth was far, far worse. He just had to stop thinking about it. "He also tried to kill you, Harry." Stop thinking! "But he couldn't. Nobody knows why but the curse he used rebounded on him." It was another lie, but to speak of Lily's love, of her sacrifice... he couldn't. "Instead of it killing you, the curse... well, most people say he is dead, but there are some of us that who don't believe that. He is probably still alive, but for now, he is too weak to do anything but to wait." He sighed, forcing the terror away from his voice, because it wouldn't be fair on Harry. "He has been gone for ten years now. But people still remember. They call you The Boy Who Lived. The boy who lived while the Dark Lord disappeared. They call you a hero."

Harry was quiet for some moments, his gaze now glued to his hands. "But I can't be," he said finally. "I mean, I don't even remember it. And Remus said my parents were brilliant. How come they died if I didn't? I must've been awfully little."

"Nobody knows," Severus said quietly. They couldn't expect him to explain. Dumbledore would have to do it. He couldn't. "And you were awfully little. I took care of you that day. Everyone else was busy..." His eyes went distant for a moment, but then fixed on Harry's face. "I am going to show you something."

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and walked over to one of the kitchen drawers, known to Harry as the Mystical Drawer, because it was always locked. He placed the flat of his hand against it, muttering a few words in some strange language, and it sprang open. He inserted his hand, and when he pulled it out again, there was a slim, polished piece of wood in it.

"My wand," Severus explained, before Harry got a chance to ask. He hesitated for a second, silently debating himself, before striding over to the boy and tapping his forehead with the wand. Foreign words spilled over his tongue, and Harry felt a feeling, almost as if his skin was melting, and the boy clapped his hands over it with a pained yelp. "Here," Severus snapped, brusquely shoved a small hand-mirror into his hands, before going over to stand by the window, staring without seeing into the misty summer morning.

Harry stared at his own face in the mirror, and realised that something was different. There was a thin scar in his forehead. It looked a bit funny, shaped like a bolt of lightning. It hadn't been there before.

"Why did you do that?" he wondered, and he was a bit ashamed, because his voice was shaking rather badly.

"I didn't," Severus replied tersely, and then silently cursed himself as he saw Harry bowing his head guiltily. "The Dark Lord did. That is the scar his curse left upon you. Instead of you dying, all it did was leave a scar. What I did now was merely to remove the spell hiding it from view. I will have to hide it again until you go to Hogwarts, thoughh."

"Why?"

Severus raised his eyebrows and smiled sardonically. "Oh, no reason, unless you count that every wizard, witch and magical creature knows that the Boy Who Lived was marked by a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. Had I not hidden it, you might as well have walked around with a sign around your neck saying, 'Harry Potter, Enemy of the Dark Lord'. It would've amounted to the same thing. I did it to protect you, nothing else."

"You don't have to make fun. I didn't know. I'm sorry." Harry said quietly, looking hurt, and Severus realised that he had been unfair.

"I'm sorry, too. It was not my intention to make fun at you. But... some people have been questioning my methods of protecting you. They seemed to think that I had other reasons of hiding your identity." A look of grim anger stole over him as he spoke, and Harry shied away slightly.

"Why would they think that?" the boy wondered meekly.

Because they know how much I hated your father. Because they think I want to claim you for my own, erase the person you might've been . Because they think I want you to stop being Harry Potter, and turn you into Harry Snape. Because they still don't trust me...

Severus pushed away the storm of anger, the creeping tendrils of bitterness. They wouldn't do him any good to dwell, he knew that. People could think whatever it pleased them to; he knew the truth.

Besides, how could he ever make himself forget? Seeing that face every day? Seeing those eyes...

"I think you are a bit too young to understand," he said instead, closing the matter with a snap of his voice. Harry nodded, because when you're nearly eleven you get to hear stuff like that all the time, and with Severus you could be sure that he wasn't likely to say anything until he wanted to, now matter how much you nagged.

"So... this Hogwarts place... What's it like?" he said instead.

("Mother says it's huge and has hundreds and hundreds of rooms, and around it are the castle grounds which are big enough to get lost in, she says, and there's magical creatures out there and magical rooms in the castle and secret doorways and tunnels and..."

"Wow!")

"You'll have to find out for yourself. But it's one of the finest schools for magic in the world. It's a very great honour to be accepted." Severus heard the note of pride which had snuck its way into his own voice, and marvelled at it.

"So..." Harry said hesitantly, looking down at the letter once more. "I will have to leave?"

And this was the moment. Severus stared at Harry for a long time, searching the boy's gaze for what he feared so intensively, but only finding insecurity and confusion, mingled with curiosity and a glimmer of a strange, urgent hunger. If Remus had been there, or anyone else that had really known James closely, they would've marvelled at how much Harry looked like him right now. But Severus had only known James as a predator – and later, a thief – and saw nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, the boy's stepfather even smiled slightly when he answered.

"Yes, Harry."

"Oh." He looked anxious. "But I'll come back over the vacations, right? I'll see you then?"

And in an instant of uncharacteristic emotive impulsiveness, Severus suddenly made up his mind about something he had been debating with himself over for a very long time. "You'll see me sooner than that, Harry. I will be working as a teacher at Hogwarts."

The boy's eyes went wide. "Are you? Really? What kind of teacher?"

"Potions. And when you are there, Harry, it is very, very important that you do not call yourself by the name of Snape so anyone hears it. You might get in trouble if anyone hears that one of the teachers is your step-father, I hope you understand that."

Harry nodded seriously. "They'll bully me and think you are going to give me better grades and stuff because of it, right?"

"Exactly. Which is not true."

Harry grimaced. "I don't want to be a teacher's pet. And I don't want my father to have pets either."

"Your step-father, Harry," Severus reminded him. Harry shrugged.

"It doesn't matter that much, does it? I mean, really, you've always been like my father anyway. I mean, there's no difference, right."

And Severus said something he never thought he would, not knowing why he said it. "It does matter, Harry. I'm not saying that there is a difference, not really. But you ought to remember your... your real parents. Even though you might not remember them, you still have to know that they were your parents. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. It would be like forgetting them, and don't you think they deserve better than that?"
Harry looked at him for two seconds, before he smiled. "I didn't mean it like that, actually. I only meant that I have two fathers instead of just one. You can be my father, even though I have another father that is dead, can't you?" Even though the boy was still smiling, there was a flicker of something that was frightened in his eyes. Severus knew that fear. The fear of being rejected.

He nodded, and relief almost choked his words as he said, "Of course I am."


"I can't believe he said that," whispered Lily, watching Severus standing by the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His hands were clenching and unclenching, and she remembered that he did that when he was upset or nervous, and was trying not to show it. She remembered that there had been a lot of that the week before their letters had arrived. He had been so frightened of not getting in. Or had it been of her not getting in? Sometimes, she had gotten the impression...

The memory was chased away by her husband's voice. "Say what?" James wondered distractedly, watching Harry, who was reading a book on the floor, obviously deeply engaged by it.

"The thing about Harry not forgetting his parents. It's so unlike him. Even though he has been very kind to Harry" – she refrained from saying that he'd been a good father, because it made James upset – "all these years, it has been... quite obvious that he doesn't want to talk about us."

"Better that than him saying something stupid," James growled under his breath. Lily knew why. That thing Harry had said, about it not making any difference, had stung him. But it still made her angry.

"Oh, stop being an arse, James. He's been trying so very, very hard, can't you see that. He hasn't said a bad word about you to Harry. After all that your gang put him through in school, you cannot possibly ask anything more from him!"

James smiled disarmingly. "You are absolutely adorable when you are angry, do you know that?" But Lily wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"I mean it, James."

"So do I. But yes, it surprised me. Very decent, coming from a prize arse."

Lily sighed and turned away. She loved James, admired him, but sometimes he could be such an idiot about things. But then again, he didn't know Severus like she did. How could he possibly know how much it really must've cost him to say that? Did she, really? It had been a long time ago...

She silenced the thought before it got any further. She knew the man well enough. And she knew her man too. The best way to tackle him was to tease right back. "Well, I personally liked the part about Harry having two fathers. Sounded a bit like it was you and Severus that were married, did it not?"

James grimaced wildly. "Lily," he whined, giving her a puppy-eyed look that made him look vaguely like Sirius. "I am going to have nightmares because you said that!" He put his head in his hands in a very good image of deep misery.

"Don't overdo it," Lily said dryly, and James gave her a pained, reproachful glance.

"Overdo! I am being stoic." His voice was somewhat muffled by his hands. And Lily burst out laughing.

She tried to hide it, but apparently he had been peeking between his fingers. With a great, theatrical groan, he flung himself backwards, so that he rested in midair, and sighed deeply. "She is laughing at my misery! My wife doesn't understand me!"

Lily gave up. Still laughing she fell into his arms, and rested there until the mirth gave away to silent joy. "Are you proud of your son, James?" she whispered.

"Proud fit to burst," he answered, his voice very gentle. She looked up to find him gazing at the tousle-haired boy on the floor, his eyes containing boundless affection. "He'll be the best student that's ever gone to Hogwarts."

"Doesn't matter," Lily said with a smile, watching Harry, who turned the page with an eager look on his face. "I would be proud of him even if he had turned out to be a squib. And so would he, I think," she said, nodding in Severus' direction. In her mind she added: 'He really has changed, hasn't he?'

James wasn't listening. "And I'll be damned if he won't be the best bloody quidditch-player the school has ever seen as well," he said, looking very much like the stubborn idiot of a teenage boy he had once been. Lily smiled affectionately, kissing her husband softly on the cheek, her eyes resting on Severus.

"Whatever you say, love."

"28/7,1991

Dumbledore,

I am aware that I am a bit late, but if the position as a Potionsmaster is still available, I would be happy to take it. I would thus be pleased if you could kindly send someone to pick Harry up. It would be unwise for me to follow him to the station. Not just for the sake of secrecy, but also because it would be unlucky if the other children sees him with me, knowing how easily you jump to conclusions in that age. I think we can both agree on that Harry will have enough to tackle without adding to his load.

I also feel obliged to inform you that Harry is gifted with a peculiar talent. It seems he is a Parselmouth. I have long held the suspicion that he might be, a suspicion that finally confirmed when I saw him ordering a snake out from under the stairs, where it appeared to have crept in by mistake. I have asked him not to show this to anyone at school; it would hardly be appropriate for him to be displaying talents associated with the Heir of Slytherin. It worries me, though, and I'd like to hear your views on the matter. Why has this happened? Is this a sign of some kind of connection to the Dark Lord? If this is the case, there must be some way of blocking the connection. A mere child is not suited to be so closely bound to our enemy.

Nothing else is out of the ordinary. I still see Lucius Malfoy in the village, but I think I have worked out the pattern of his visits. I am confident I will be able to hide our presence from him.

Hoping I find you in good health,

S. Snape"


Remus was to take Harry shopping for his school things in Diagon Alley, as a sort of birthday-gift. Harry was wildly exited, of course. It was his first visit in the other world Severus had told him about, the magical world. Also, he had to admit that he was quite relieved to get away a bit from his friends. Especially Hermione. He wasn't used to keeping secrets from her, and this secret was so wonderful and fantastic that he was dying to share it with her. Severus had pointed out that she might only become jealous of him anyway, to which Harry of course had scoffed. But Severus said that he had seen it happen before, and he had sounded so ominous about it that Harry believed him, and a faint shadow of doubt had been cast over his soul. And besides, as Severus had pointed out, if Harry couldn't keep the secret, what was the guarantee that she could? So Harry had worked all the self-control over himself that he could possibly muster, and kept quiet. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly made easier by the fact that Hermione seemed on the verge of telling him something all the time. Several times she had opened her mouth, looking as if she had a wonderful secret to tell him, but every time she seemed to think better of it, and closed her mouth with an uneasy shrug. If he could just be allowed to tell her his secret, he was sure she would tell his, and then they'd make an adventure out of both secrets, and no one was going to get jealous.

"You have everything you need, Harry?"

"Yes, uncle Remus. But why are we standing by the fire-place?"

"Because we are going to use Floo powder, Harry."

Harry stared at the pot of glittering green powder that Remus presented to him. "What's floogpowder?"

"Floo powder, Harry. And you'll soon see. Take a pinch." Harry did as he was told. "Good. Now, you throw that into the fireplace, and then you step into the fire and say "Diagon Alley" loud and clear. And then you tuck your elbows in and stand still until you stop spinning. When you stop spinning, and not before that, you step out of the fireplace, and you will be in Diagon Alley. Got it?"

Harry nodded, but he was looking rather anxious. "Can't you do it first? So I see how it's supposed to be done."

Remus looked at him for some seconds, and caught Severus giving him a warning glare at the corner of his eye. "Tell you what, Harry? Let's do it together, shall we? That way, I can show you."

Harry tried to not look too grateful, and nodded.

Remus heard Severus breathing a sigh of relief, and smiled to himself. Hah! Who would've known that there would be a day when he could swear that Severus Snape was acting just like Molly Weasley.

"Come here, Harry." The boy obeyed, and as Remus threw the powder into the fire, he pulled the boy with him into the emerald flames. "On three," he whispered in the boy's ear. "One...two...three!"

"Diagon Alley!" They both shouted, and the world started to spin madly. Remus reassuringly held his arms around the boy, as they saw fireplace after fireplace whirling past in front of their eyes, and Harry kept a very firm grip on his hand.

Finally, they felt their feet connect with a hard stone floor, and Remus quickly flung out a hand to save himself from toppling right over Harry. They both blinked the ashes out of their eyes, and Harry rubbed his glasses against his shirt to rid it of the thin, grey veil that had settled over the glass.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said a cheerful voice from their left, and two pairs of eager arms helped them both out of the fire-place.

"Hi Nymphadora!" Harry answered happily, and the girl rolled her eyes in disgust.

"I hate that name," she complained to no one in special, and her father, who was helping Remus to rid himself of the last of the dust, laughed.

"Don't whine, Dora my dear. We're just waiting for my wife and Hagrid to turn up," he added to Remus, "then we'll be off. Hagrid obviously was supposed to visit Gringotts for some Hogwarts business, and Andromeda is taking out some money. They should be here any second now."

"Is Hagrid also coming?" Harry asked excitedly, turning to face Remus.

"Mhm," he smiled widely as the boy whooped. "We thought we'd be quite the party celebrating your birthday. It's a pity Severus couldn't come, but you know... it's a very big secret. Nobody can know."

Harry nodded solemnly, and tried to not think of his step-father being home alone while he was at Diagon Alley having fun.

"No grumpy faces!" Nymphadora declared, lifting Harry up and swinging him around, making him squeal with delight. "Merlin," she panted when she finally let him go, "I swear you grow heavier each time I do that."

"Soon it will be him doing it to you," Ted said with a wide grin.

"As if I'd ever allow that," Dora answered cheerfully, growing a foot in height and almost as much in shoulder width, before shrinking back to normal. Harry giggled.

"I see the children are already having fun," said Andromeda, striding towards them with the whole commanding grace of an empress. Nymphadora stuck out her tongue at her mother, turning it green as she did so. Harry, on the other hand, threw himself into the waiting arms of the tall, beautiful lady, who laughed and held him very, very tight. Remus noticed that she was discreetly giving him a quick once-over as she did so, probably checking to see he wasn't malnourished or... or missing a leg or something. Remus raised his eyebrows and gave her a rather direct look over Harry's head. She blushed, but raised her chin defiantly as if to say, 'Well, you never know.'

"Sweet god, you grow to look more like your father every time I see you," she then murmured, looking down at Harry with a fond smile.

"Which of them?" Harry asked solemnly, and Remus laughed. Andromeda looked a bit shocked, but said nothing.

"It's good ter see 'im so 'ealthy, ain't it?" Rubeus Hagrid ducked his head under the doorframe, smiling widely as Harry cried a greeting, disentangling himself from Andromeda so he could throw himself at Hagrid and hug him around as much waist as his arms could reach around. Hagrid laughed, ruffling his hair and leaving Harry looking slightly dazed from the sheer force of it. "An' 'appy too, I see. Who woulda' thought, when they firs' tried ter send ye off ter those blasted muggles..." Remus made frantic motions behind Harry's back, and Hagrid caught himself. Thankfully enough, Harry's ears still seemed to be ringing a bit, and he didn't appear to have heard. The giant man looked slightly embarrased anyway. "Well, er, enough about that. Yer looking jus' great, Harry! " said Hagrid, patting Harry on the shoulder with such force that he was propelled off his feet and sent crashing into a table. Hagrid gave him a surprised look. "Mind where yer tryin' ter sit down, lad," he admonished, helping Harry to his feet. The boy grinned, boxing Hagrid on the arm, something the half-giant didn't even seem to notice.

"Well, then," said Remus, before any more accidents could happen. "We should be off. Why don't we go to Madame Malkin's first? It takes a while, and that should leave us all some time to buy birthday gifts to Harry."

Harry whooped and gave Remus a hug, catching him off guard at first. Then he bent down and returned the hug, and he smiled softly down at his best friend's son as he straightened up again. "You would be so proud of him, James," he whispered.

And then suddenly there was a moment when the world seemed to slow down around him, and Remus thought, for the briefest of seconds, that he heard that familiar, longed-for voice saying, "I am."

But in the next heartbeat, he was sure it had just been imagination.


A/N: My, my, this is a lot longer than the old version. Oh, well. I had fun, and I hope you had too.