Author's Note: Are you still with me, dear reader? If so, read on!

Chapter 37

"It pleases me" was all Charity could think of the entire drive home.

Somehow, while Harry was upstairs with the Grangers, she had gotten Severus into the passenger seat of the car and as she leaned over to buckle him in he sniffed her hair and told her how good she smelled. Charity didn't know if this was his subconscious talking or the semi-sedation. It didn't matter at that moment. It would not be appropriate for Harry to hear him speak like that toward her, so she laughed lightly at his comment and gently requested that he try to sleep. By the time she got back to the car with Harry and reassured the Grangers that they wouldn't be sued, Severus was curled up and fast asleep. She wanted to readjust his neck but was unsure how he'd react if she touched him. The young witch decided to let him be, knowing full well he'd regret his position later.

Harry was clearly worried about his Dark Man, but once Charity explained what had happened he calmed down, though he did ask what would happen if the medicines didn't wear off. Charity refused to contemplate that possibility. She just wanted Severus to sleep it off and be his crotchety self once again. About an hour before they reached Spinner's End, as Harry was dozing in the back seat, Severus started to wake up and was, of course, in pain. Charity breathed a sigh of relief when a string of expletives started quietly rolling off his tongue.

"Severus…Harry's right behind you…watch your language."

"I can speak as I wish in my own…owwww…car, woman!" he cried, trying to loosen his neck and soothe his jaw simultaneously.

Charity couldn't help it – she started giggling.

"You find this funny?" he snarled.

The young witch tried to hold her mirth in check.

"I know you're in pain, Severus, but you can't speak like that in front of him."

"Hmmph! I'm sure he's heard worse," the young wizard groused.

"I'm sure he has," she rejoined, "but let's not encourage it, ok?"

Severus pursed his lips and cringed as he attempted to turn from side to side. Automatically his hand shot to his neck, rubbing the crick that had formed there.

"Ouch! Fuck! My neck!"

"Severus! Language!"

"Sorry," he moped, "but it hurts!"

"If it will keep you from cursing in front of a child, I will give you a neck massage later."

Severus turned toward her and grimaced.

"Really?"

"Yes…really!"

The young wizard turned back slowly, unsure if he should reject her offer, but his neck was telling him to take the chance while she was offering. Severus grunted his agreement, a slight smile of satisfaction tugging at the side of his mouth.

Soon enough they were back at Spinner's End and Severus, emotionally speaking, was almost back to normal. His swelling had gone down significantly as well, though he was still in pain and not in the mood for Harry's incessant questions about his current health condition. Charity shooed Harry off to his bedroom before she called Mimzy to prepare Severus' room and an easy to chew supper. Normally, Severus wouldn't allow Mimzy, but the circumstances, such as they were, dictated bending the rules just a little. The young wizard was in enough pain that the presence of Charity's house elf in his home didn't seem to faze him.

Charity helped Severus to his room after Mimzy disapparated and left him to his own devices. It wasn't like he was an invalid. He did need some pain medication though and Charity wasn't sure willow bark would suffice. After his experience with Muggle drugs, however, she wasn't about to give him acetaminophen. She just wasn't sure if he'd have another bad reaction to Muggle medication and did not want to take a chance. The young witch called Harry and asked him to help her find Severus' stores of willow bark, devil's claw, and capsicum from the cellar lab. Since the child had been brewing with his Dark Man, the ingredients were easy to find. Charity pulled one of Severus' potions books from a sitting room bookshelf and made a powerful tea for pain from the Potions Master's supplies.

Once the tea was made, she sent Harry in with the brew while she went to double-check on supper. She hoped Severus would be gentle with the child, even though he was still quite uncomfortable. The young witch watched as Harry tottered down the hall, tea in hand, and then headed back into the kitchen.
"Sir?" Harry said solicitously.

Severus grunted the required permission to enter. Harry slowly opened the door and found his professor sitting against the headboard of his bed, in socked feet, with his ankles crossed, head back, and eyes closed. He looked put out.

"Miss made you tea, sir."

"Thank you," Severus grimaced, moved his legs to the edge of the bed, and took the hot drink from the child.
Harry watched carefully as the young wizard brought the cup and saucer toward his face, sniffed a few times, screwed up his nose, and placed the cup down on the nightstand. There was no way he was not going to drink that! He'd simply vanish the contents later before the child came back for the tea set. Severus sat back again against the headboard and assumed his previous position.

"Is there something you need, Potter?" he snapped wearily when the child didn't leave.

The boy started slightly but held his ground.

"Miss said to make sure you actually drink it, even if you think it's not to your 'standard'."

The young wizard cocked an eyebrow at the child's usage of air quotation marks. Clearly, the witch thought he'd be difficult and sent the boy to keep him in line.

"So, you're on patrol, eh?"

Harry nodded once to ensure his Dark Man understood he meant business and crossed his lean arms across his chest to prove it. Severus eyed the child steadily, but this time the boy refused to look away. There was a defiant streak in this one, the young wizard could see. It was probably how he stayed alive all these years despite the circumstances. At that thought, Severus capitulated. What harm could it do to appease the boy? And drinking the brew might even help his pain.

As if understanding his thought processes, a cup and saucer entered his field of vision, drawing the Potions Master out of his musings. He moved, once again, to sit on the side of the bed and took the items from the boy. Drawing the drink to his lips, he took a slow sip. He got the brew down, just barely. It tasted awful! What did she put in there?

"You have to drink it all, sir."

Severus looked disgusted. "Really?"

"Yes! Really!" the child stated firmly.

The Dark Man looked at the child in front of him and handed him the saucer. Pinching his nose, he pawed the cup and drank it all in one gulp. Severus handed Harry back the cup. Seconds later, he violently dry-retched. With lightening reflexes, the boy put the tea things down on the nightstand, grabbed the rubbish bin, and handed it to Severus. The young wizard heaved over the bin while his charge rubbed his back in concern. Severus was too preoccupied with not sicking up that he didn't immediately shrink at the child's touch or castigate the boy.

Thankfully, just as quickly as the nauseous feeling came, it passed. Severus took some deep breaths and handed the bin back to Harry. The child put the wastepaper basket down and without hesitation helped his Dark Man to sit back against the headboard. Harry grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed and tucked his Dark Man in. Severus stared at the child in wonder. For someone so wounded, the boy truly cared about other people. The Potions professor hated to admit it, but it was…endearing.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said gently.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?"

"No…I think I can manage from here."

"Oh. Ok…" the child stammered, shuffling from one foot to the other. Gingerly, he grabbed the teacup and saucer and headed for the door.

"Mr. Potter..."

"Yes," the child said turning back to him.

"Did you need something else?"

The child looked down at the cup in his hands, clearly trying to decide whether or not now was the best time to ask his question.

"Potter?" he quizzed.

Harry looked up at Severus and hedged his bets.

"Professor…" he began, rubbing his index finger along the rim of the cup. "What did Hermione mean when she said I was the boy who lived?"

Severus was grateful for how quickly Charity's witch's brew had worked because he was quite sure this conversation would have otherwise induced a headache. When the young wizard didn't respond right away, Harry got nervous and tried to backtrack. Severus knew he couldn't let that happen. The child had questions that needed answers. Thus far, all he knew was that Severus and Charity went to school with his parents and that James and Lily loved each other and their child. Someone had to fill in the rest of the details. It would seem that "someone" was Severus Snape.

The Potions Master pushed back the blanket and sat once again on the side of the bed. Drawing his wand he closed the door, so the child would have some privacy. He then conjured a comfy chair for Harry to sit.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Potter," he requested.

The child came forward slowly, put the teacup and saucer on the nightstand, and sat down, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"So, I have to admit, I don't know where to begin…" Severus' voice trailed off. Harry swallowed hard in anticipation. "Maybe it would be easier," he continued, "if you asked me questions. Would that work?"

The child nodded.

"Ok…what would you like to know?"

"How many wizards are there in the world?"

Severus furrowed his brow. That was an odd question.

"Well," he replied, "it's hard to know. There are definitely wizarding communities all over the world – pockets in every land. But our exact numbers are difficult to tell. Millions, to say the least, world-wide."

"Do regular people know about us?"

"Some do…like my father, Hermione's parents, and your aunt, uncle and cousin."

"So most people who know about us have a family member who is a witch or wizard."

"Yes, that is probably fair to say."

"But most people don't know about us."

"That's correct. Sometimes things happen in Muggle society that they think are natural disasters or tragic accidents, but occasionally, they are actually wizarding events affecting the rest of the world. Muggles just don't realize it."

"Was my parent's death one of those kinds of events?"

"No, Mr. Potter."

"So, then why did Hermione know who I was? She looked at my scar, which is not even that big, and she knew."

Harry was now visibly upset. But for what reason, the young wizard was unsure. "Mr. Potter, there's no good way to tell you this, so, I'm just going to say it. You are probably the most famous person currently alive in the wizarding world, next to Headmaster Dumbledore, of course. That's why we're very cautious when we take you places."

"But why would I be famous?" he asked, his eyes wet with unshed tears, "I'm no one!"

Severus leaned in toward the child and placed a firm hand on his knee.

"You are not "no one," Mr. Potter. In fact, you're quite the opposite."

"I don't understand!" the boy snapped, his small hands becoming tight fists.

Severus didn't chastise, correct, or calm the child. He was rightly upset. But when the room began to shake, the young wizard intervened.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Potter!" he drawled, now giving the child's knee a firmer squeeze. The last thing they needed was the Ministry of Magic showing up at Spinner's End due to a bout of uncontrolled underage magic.

Harry looked at his Dark Man's hand on his knee and focused on the sensation of the heavy hand on him. His breathing began to slow, and the teacup and saucer stopped rattling. The boy couldn't hide his wet cheeks, however. Severus took a tissue from the box on the nightstand and gave it to the child who wiped his face dry.

"Hey…Severus…is everything ok? I thought I felt…oh!" Charity stopped, as she peaked around the door. A tuft of Harry's unkempt hair was sticking up over the back of his chair. "You two alright?"

"We're fine. Mr. Potter was just asking about how Miss Granger recognized him."

Charity stepped further into the room.

"What…what did you say?"

"I haven't gotten there yet. It's upsetting business."

"Yes, I suppose it is," she agreed. "Would you like me to leave?"

Severus looked at Harry, waiting for a response. Charity could see the tuft of brown hair silently shake no, so Severus drew his wand and conjured another chair for her. The young witch stepped forward and sat down. They sat quietly for a few minutes until Severus encouraged Harry to continue with his questions.

"Why am I famous?" the child began, almost too soberly.

Charity didn't want to say too much, which was her tendency, so she let her professor take the lead.

"It has to do, in part, with your parent's deaths," Severus replied.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. He was very angry and doing his best to not show it.

"I know exactly how they died," the child exclaimed. "My dad was driving my granddad's car while drunk and he killed himself and my mother."

The young witch bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold her tongue. Where did he hear such rubbish?

"Did you Aunt tell you that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry snarled at the mention of Petunia Dursley and the reminder of her "truths."

"Your Aunt was and is a liar!" the Potions Master continued. The child looked up at his Dark Man and then at Charity, as if to make sure he heard right. A pitying smile touched the young witch's lips.

"It's true, Harry. Your Aunt lied to you," she confirmed.

"What happened to them then?" the boy asked quietly, unsure of whether he wanted to know the answer.

"They were murdered," Severus returned bluntly. Harry gasped and then shook his head, deliberately rubbing his lightening scar.

"Is that why I hear a woman screaming sometimes?" he choked.

"It could be," the Potions Master replied evenly, though it broke what was left of his heart.

"Harry," Charity continued, "your father was an Auror – a detective, if you will – and he was hunting down an evil wizard who was determined to kill all Muggles."

"Like my mother?"

"Yes!" she replied. "But more than that, he targeted anyone who was not a "pureblooded" witch or wizard, including you! One night, in retaliation, he attacked your parents at their family home in Godric's Hollow. You were only a year and a half old. Reports said your father fought valiantly, but this evil wizard was very powerful and overcame him. When this dark wizard tried to kill you, your mother threw herself in between you and him. She died instantly. But when he tried the killing curse on you, it didn't work. Somehow something shielded you from suffering the same fate as your mother. More importantly, something occurred which no one has ever been able to explain – your magical shield actually redirected the curse back on to the evil wizard himself. He died. You were not even a toddler and you essentially killed one of the most potent and powerful wizards of our time."

"And everyone knows about this?" he asked.

"Yes," Severus rejoined. "Every wizard in Britain knows who you are, and the basic story Professor Burbage just relayed to you. And they know that the scar on your forehead is the mark left by the killing curse, which also represents your defeat of the darkest wizard of our time. The story was widely reported."

"So, everyone knows my parents died saving my life."

"Yes, luv."

"And that I killed a bad person who was hurting people."

Severus nodded solemnly.

Harry looked away from both his soon to be professors. "That's a terrible reason to be famous!" he declared.

"Why do you say that?" Charity asked him.

The child continued to look away.

"If I hadn't been born, my parents would still be alive."

Severus exhaled slowly. Now was not the time to say the wrong thing.

"You could look at it that way, Mr. Potter. But there is no way to know that. Your parents loved you and they were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for you to live..."

"…in a cupboard under the stairs. I know," he continued sullenly.

Charity really didn't know what to say to that. This was the child's truth. Instinctively, she took the child's hand in hers.

"Harry…there's nothing we can do to change the past. None of us who knew and loved your parents knew what you were going through. I promise you, if I did, I would have come."

That unleashed Harry's tears. So, Charity pulled him to her and gathered him in her arms.

"I wish you had come," he wailed.

"I know, sweetheart. I know," she soothed, rubbing his back gently.

Harry cried until his tears were spent. Severus didn't know what to do other than to watch how the young witch handled the boy weeping on her lap. He was still so small that he wasn't too heavy for her. Harry snuggled into her chest, his thin legs dangling over her thighs. The young wizard couldn't help but admire her.

"You know we're here now, right?" she whispered in his ear. "That's not going to change."

The child nodded, wiping his face with his fingers. Severus was hesitant to make such promises, but he was beginning to wonder whether the young witch had it in her head to adopt the child. He would definitely address that with her later.

"I know this has been difficult, Mr. Potter, but I hope we've clarified things for you."

Harry nodded again without looking at Severus.

"Is there anything else?"

"What if I don't want to be the boy who lived?" the child asked hopefully.

"We all want to be someone we aren't, Mr. Potter. But whatever that phrase means to others, what's most important is what it means to you. Will you allow the circumstances of your life to destroy you or make you a stronger, better person? You don't have to save the world, but as long as you're alive, you have to do your part. I don't know what that will mean in the future, but for today, that means being someone who needs to eat supper and take a bath."

Harry blinked at his Dark Man. He had expected some profound word of wisdom and received the most basic instruction of survival. It made him laugh. Charity smiled kindly at Severus who of course, had no reaction other than to cock his eyebrow in feigned confusion.

"Should we see to supper, luv?" Charity asked the child, patting his skinny ribcage.

"Ok," he said, scooting off the young witch's lap. Charity stood as Harry grabbed her hand. She gave his smaller one a reassuring squeeze and let go, pointing toward the door with a nod of her head. Harry moved toward the door, but turned to Severus, smiling shyly in thanks before heading toward the kitchen.

Severus, for his part, looked spent. He rubbed his jaw and then his neck and yawned silently.

"Do you need more pain-reliever, Severus?"

The young wizard nodded sitting back on his bed.

"I'll have some ready for supper. Why don't you rest a bit longer?"

Severus nodded and let her pull the now balled up blanket over his legs.

"Accio Potions Quarterly vol. 65 no. 4," she called upon drawing her wand. The volume flew from the living room and into her hand. "Here you go," she continued, passing the journal to her professor. She then conjured a glass of water, setting it down on the nightstand. Sheathing her wand, she took up the teacup and saucer and turned toward the young wizard and smiled. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she looked deeply into Severus' black orbs. He could feel her warmth in his extremities. Without a word or a touch, she turned away to check on Harry.