I'll Give You Everything (Nothing Is Too Much)

by DobbyRocksSocks

Severus kidnaps Harry when he's only three after learning of his placement with the Dursleys. With a Harry raised to know love, what differences will that make to the timeline—and how will Dumbledore handle a Harry who isn't quite so easy to mould into a weapon against the Dark Lord? Also, Rabastan learns not to tickle Bellatrix.

Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 41,662

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I'll Give You Everything (Nothing Is Too Much)

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He was Lily's friend before he was James' enemy, Severus reminded himself for the umpteenth time as he sat across the road from Number Four, Privet Drive, the bushes digging into his spine uncomfortably and the grass damp beneath him.

He hadn't wanted to cast any magic, unsure if it would react against the wards Dumbledore had erected around the house. The last thing he needed right now was to be discovered.

He'd been there for hours, waiting for the shrew he remembered from his childhood to leave the house, but to no avail. It was dark now, and he didn't think that she'd be leaving anytime before the following morning, but he was loath to wait another night.

Merlin only knew what she was doing to the boy.

He cursed Dumbledore yet again for thinking this was a good idea. Why hadn't he bothered to ask Severus, who'd known Petunia as a child, if he thought it was a suitable place for Harry to grow up? He could have told Dumbledore exactly how much of a bad idea this was!

Severus had only found out where the child had been placed because of Minerva's weakness for a good scotch that often loosened her tongue. She'd been ranting about the time she'd spent watching the family 'poor little Harry' had been placed with, and it had sparked Severus' interest. Now he was partially wishing that he'd never been told.

He really didn't like children—an ironic trait for a professor, he knew—but he couldn't just leave Lily's son to grow up with the harpy that had ruined many a day when they were young.

He glared at the door again, and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He should just go home and return in the morning, preferably to find a different hiding place than in the bushes.

Severus checked the windows close by carefully before he stood up; Muggle suburbia was prone to housing the noisiest of people, and the last thing he needed was a mob of muggles chasing him because they thought he was a peeping tom.

Finding no obvious lights, or curtains twitching, Severus stood and dusted himself off. Hopefully, he'd have more luck in the morning, and Petunia would deign to leave the house for a while.

He walked away from the cul-de-sac and out onto the main road, until he found an alley he could slip down to Apparate away, back to Spinner's End.

The two areas couldn't be more different, he mused to himself, feeling his wards tingle over him as he walked inside them and into his house, the door pushing open without a key at the touch of his hand.

The inside of the house was vastly different from what it had been when he'd been growing up. In a fit of pique, he'd gutted the place after Lily's death, his rage at the situation flowing out of him as he shattered glass and broke wood until the whole house had been destroyed.

After cleaning up the destruction, he'd set about making himself a home. It wasn't full of gold and elegance like Malfoy Manor, or ornate statues like Lestrange Castle, but it was his and he liked it.

Gone were the miserable drapes he'd hidden behind when his father was in a temper, and gone were the lumpy mattresses that he'd had to shift around to find that singular position he could lie in without something sharp digging into his hip or his shoulder.

Gone was the dismal wallpaper, and the lighting that flickered when lit, the rotted furniture and the dusty ornaments that Severus believed reminded his mother of happier times.

If she'd ever had them. Severus truly didn't know. By the time he was old enough to have memories, his father was fully entrenched in his alcoholism and his hatred of magic, and his mother had long given up any strength of will that she might have possessed in his younger years.

Instead of memories of his childhood, Severus was greeted by clean walls in neutral colours that brightened the rooms without effort. He walked on slatted hardwood floors, polished to perfection, covered in places by warm rugs.

The kitchen was his favourite room in the house, the simple marble counters and gleaming white cupboards reminding him that he was allowed to have pride in his home, in the life he was building for himself.

Nobody looking at the outside of the house would expect the inside now, that was for sure—and Severus enjoyed that. It reminded him of himself in a strange way.

Severus discarded his outer robe and his boots at the door, before he climbed the stairs of the two story building, and entered the spare room. Given that he could do nothing else tonight, he thought it might be a good idea to prepare a room for the boy.

For Harry.

He'd have to get used to that name. because he'd committed to his path now. He already had a crib, but that was all he had, and he looked at the cream walls thoughtfully.

He didn't want to paint a mural or anything so intricate; not only did he not have the talent, but it would be time consuming, and Severus didn't have the time even if he did possess a talent for art.

Cream wasn't very child friendly, though.

With a thoughtful hum, he waved his wand at the walls and changed the lower half to a deep forest green. A second wave covered the upper walls in a lighter green, a touch darker than mint. With a steady hand, he conjured a border along the joining line with a serpentine pattern on it.

Well, he had to negate Harry's parents' Gryffindorness one way or another, didn't he?

Pleased with his work, Severus left the room for his own bedroom and undressed quickly, sending his clothes to the laundry basket with a wave of his wand. He showered and changed into comfortable clothes before returning downstairs to find something to eat and enjoy a glass of scotch by the fire before he retired for the night.

Settled into his favourite armchair, Severus jotted down a list of things he would need to buy for Harry, the necessities he'd have to get and the things he wished he'd had as a child but didn't.

If asked why he was putting so much effort into a child he could, by all rights, despise, Severus wouldn't be able to answer beyond that the boy was Lily's son.

And being Potter's son didn't trump that.

…

Severus cast a disillusionment charm on himself before he left the following morning, cursing himself for not thinking of it earlier. It was certainly preferable to hiding in bushes.

Thankfully, Petunia left the house around ten in the morning, two boys in tow. One was kicking and screaming, and Severus watched on in disgust as she pandered to her Duddykins, promising him ice cream and presents if he'd only walk like a good boy.

Severus shook his head, but his attention didn't stay on the larger boy for long. He was more interested in the smaller of the two. His clothes hung off of him, clearly having previously belonged to 'Duddykins', and his head was down, like he was trying not to draw any attention to himself.

There were fingerprint shaped-bruises just visible on his arm where the sleeve of the t-shirt stopped, and Severus had never wanted to hex a Muggle more than he did in that moment.

How could she do that to her nephew? Or let her husband, which seemed more likely. The man looked like a walrus and likely had a temper to match, if what Minerva had said was true.

Severus followed along behind them at a good distance, just close enough so that he wouldn't lose them. He thanked Merlin when Petunia turned towards the largest park in the area.

It would be far easier to take the boy from somewhere so open, and this far from the house, he'd be free to modify her memory so that her only memory of her nephew was a stranger arriving to take him back to the wizarding world.

It was perfect.

Keeping an eye one the people around him, Severus cast off the disillusionment charm and approached the park, watching carefully as Petunia found an empty bench to perch herself on before she waved the boys off to play.

Her eyes never left her son, even as the two children split up, each stumbling to opposite sides of the play area.

It would be even easier than Severus thought it would, if she cared so little for her nephew.

Slipping his wand from his pocket, Severus let himself slide into her mind with just a whispered spell, searching her memories quickly. What he found made him feel sick, but he forced himself to continue, modifying her memory enough to slide in a fresh memory of Harry being taken away. As an expert at mind magic, Severus knew not even Dumbledore himself would be able to tell the difference between the fake memory and her real ones.

Once he was done and had suppressed the strong itch to curse her, he approached Harry, crouching down beside the boy at the sand pit.

"Hi, Harry," he murmured, almost flinching when bright green eyes looked up at him. "My name is Severus."

Despite being barely three, his curiosity was clear as he looked at Severus, his head tilting slightly as his little brow furrowed in the most adorable way.

"I'm Boy," he replied softly, carefully enunciating the words in a way that only small children did.

Severus felt rage stir inside of himself, but he kept it off his face, not wanting to scare the child.

"You are Harry," he corrected gently. "That's your name."

"I'm Harry?"

"That's right. You're Harry," Severus confirmed. "You're going to come with me, okay, Harry?"

Harry glanced at Petunia, who paid them absolutely no mind as she cooed over her lump of a son.

"An' Tuney be mad?"

"No, she won't be mad," Severus replied. "She knows you're going to come with me and she said it's okay."

Harry glanced down at the sand that he'd been playing with and then nodded. Severus helped him to his feet and gave his clothes a cursory wipe before he swept the boy up in his arms, letting him rest comfortably in one arm, legs bracketing Severus' hip.

He looked around to make sure nobody was watching him walk away with a boy that he hadn't arrived with, before he confidently walked out of the play area and onto the path that snaked through the rest of the park.

"Where goin'?" Harry asked, his little fingers playing absently with a loose thread on the shoulder of Severus' jumper.

"You're coming home with me," Severus told him, glancing down at him to offer the boy a small smile. "But first, we're going to go shopping, because I think you need some clothes that will fit you."

"An' Tuney said I's wear Dud's cothes, when his done," Harry told him seriously, and if Severus thought he had any of his heart left, he knew it would be breaking.

"Well, I think you deserve some of your own," he said eventually. "And I'll even let you pick out your own pyjamas, how's that?"

"Me pick?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, Harry, you can pick. Good?"

Harry nodded exuberantly, and Severus smiled at him. "Okay, good."

…

Severus apparated home with Harry held tight in his arms. When he landed in the garden, he held the poor kid while he vomited.

It wasn't the most pleasant way to travel for children, and he knew he'd have to get used to Flooing and using the Knight Bus on occasion, now that he had Harry's needs to take into consideration.

They'd done a little shopping in the high street of Little Whinging and Severus had bought enough clothes to last Harry about a week, along with a few toys and books that would hopefully help to keep him occupied until Severus could get some real shopping done and they got themselves settled into a routine.

Vanishing the sick, Severus took Harry into the house and straight into the kitchen. He set him carefully on the counter and poured a glass of cold water from the tap, before he picked up the stomach settler he'd already set out that morning, anticipating the reaction.

He couldn't help the smile when he saw the face Harry pulled at the potion, and he just held the glass carefully for him as he sipped at the water. He hadn't thought to buy plastic cups yet, or even cutlery.

Despite teaching at Hogwarts, Severus wasn't used to small children. The only one he'd been around for any length of time was Lucius' boy, Draco, and even then it was the house elves that took care of his daily needs.

Severus didn't like the thought of leaving Harry to be brought up by an elf, but he knew he was going to have to have a similar plan in place, once term started up. It wasn't like he could let Albus know that he'd suddenly adopted a child.

Especially when Severus was sure that Albus was monitoring the house in Surrey. He would know before long that Harry had gone missing from his relatives house, and while Severus thought many unsavory things about the headmaster, he couldn't deny that the man was intelligent.

He'd make the connection in a second.

It was just one more item on the long list of things that Severus had to arrange over the summer. He really hadn't realised the sheer amount of planning that looking after a child—and kidnapping and hiding said child, of course—would take.

Though even if he had, it wouldn't have changed his decision to do it.

Once he was certain that Harry wasn't going to vomit again, he lifted the boy carefully and walked into the living room, placing him on the sofa. He gave him a book, one of the few they'd bought, and a soft teddy.

"Stay right there, Harry," he murmured. "I'll just be two minutes."

Harry nodded, watching with curious eyes as Severus threw floo powder into the fire and called out for Lucius' office at Malfoy Manor before he put his head in the green flames.

Lucius was waiting for him, and when he saw the expression on Severus' face, he seemed to relax in his seat.

"You have the child?"

"I do," Severus agreed. "Would you like to come and meet him? I have a few things I'm going to need your help with."

"Of course," Lucius replied. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Severus pulled back, and smiled at Harry, who was watching with wide eyes. When Lucius was gone, he'd have to remember to spell a shield around the fireplace so that Harry didn't get burnt.

He sat down on the sofa beside Harry, and was only a little surprised when Harry immediately shifted onto his knees and crawled into Severus' lap, the teddy held securely in one arm. He settled against Severus' chest quietly, the teddy cuddled close in his arms.

Severus thought it was adorable—not that he'd ever admit as much out loud, but in the privacy of his own mind he certainly could. He wrapped one arm around Harry to hold him, his long fingers tapping a nonsensical pattern against the child's thigh.

The fire flared, and Lucius stepped through. He smiled at the sight that greeted him, his eyes moving over Harry curiously.

Instead of sitting down in the armchair like Severus had expected him to, he approached them slowly. Harry's little fingers gripped at Severus' shirt, but he didn't seem overly upset, so Severus didn't say anything.

Lucius crouched down when he reached them, so he was on eye level with Harry.

"Hello, Harry," he greeted, voice soft the way Severus had only ever heard it with Draco. "I'm Lucius."

"Hi," Harry murmured shyly.

Lucius held out his hand, and Harry looked at it for a moment, before he shifted his bear so he could put his own hand on top. Lucius smiled and squeezed the smaller hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry grinned and then looked up at Severus. "Pwetty."

Severus choked on a laugh. "You think Lucius is pretty, Harry?"

"Hair, pwetty," Harry replied, nodding his head.

Lucius chuckled as he released Harry's hand and stepped back, now taking a seat in the armchair.

"Thank you very much, Harry."

Harry amused himself with the bear, Lucius and his 'pwetty hair' already forgotten, and Severus turned his mind to the more serious aspects of his new situation.

"He didn't know his name," he said, keeping his voice soft. He hoped that Harry wouldn't pay any attention to their conversation, so long as he kept his emotions under control. The last thing he wanted to do was upset the boy. "He thought he was called 'Boy'."

Lucius was aghast, and Severus could see the disgust in his eyes as Severus continued talking.

"His clothes clearly belonged to his whale of a cousin, and Petunia was… uncaring when Harry wandered off at the park. She only had eyes for her own boy. I knew it wouldn't be good, but for him to not even know his own name…" Severus shook his head. "I took a quick look at her mind before I modified it, and… Lucius, they kept him in the cupboard under the stairs. That was his 'room'."

The look on Lucius' face wasn't a surprise, because Severus wholeheartedly agreed with the horror. In the Wizarding World, mistreatment of children was unusual. The magical community as a whole—Purebloods in particular—believed that children should be cared for, looked after and never abused.

To neglect a child so plainly was abhorrent.

"They should be hung," Lucius snarled. "To treat a child so, so…"

Severus nodded, understanding the speechlessness. "I know. Not that it matters now, he'll never be going back there."

"No, he won't," Lucius agreed firmly. "You said you needed my help?"

Severus nodded. "I'm going to need to fit the house for him, of course, and I could use your help with that. Or perhaps Narcissa's help, given the penchant she has for shopping."

Lucius chuckled. "Of course, I'm sure my lovely wife will make herself available to you whenever you have a need of her in that regard."

"I'm also going to need an elf that's fully trained in childcare. Albus cannot be allowed to know I have him, but he's quite insistent that I continue on at Hogwarts. While the Dark Lord is 'gone', he seems to be rather convinced that that situation will not last forever."

"And he's making your pardon conditional on the fact that you remain under his thumb, of course," Lucius replied, raising an eyebrow.

It wasn't a question, but Severus confirmed Lucius' assumption with a stiff nod.

"Will you be able to take the boy to Hogwarts with you," Lucius asked, "if you have an elf to keep him in your private rooms? Or will you be using the Floo to return home every evening after dinner?"

"I believe I can take him to Hogwarts with me," Severus replied. "At least until he's of an age to begin primary school. My wards in my private quarters have always been strong—nobody, not even the headmaster, can attempt to get into my rooms without my knowledge."

Lucius nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have one of our elves transferred to you within the next few days, then. They're all fully trained and have worked with Draco long enough to know what will be expected of them."

"Thank you," Severus murmured, ever grateful to his best friend.

They talked for a while more, and then Lucius smiled suddenly. Severus followed his gaze down to Harry, who'd fallen asleep on Severus' chest, his face mostly covered by the bear he was still holding tightly.

"He's precious, Severus," Lucius murmured. "He'll be the making of you in the long run, you'll see."

"He's not my son," Severus pointed out softly. "I'm merely—"

"The one who will teach him, and raise him, care for him and love him," Lucius interrupted. "What is a father but the one who does such things for a child? I'm not telling you that he shouldn't know his heritage, Severus. He should know the blood in his veins and those he got it from, but a father is more than someone with whom you share blood."

"I don't know how to be a father, Lucius," Severus replied.

It wasn't like he'd had the best example of one growing up, was it?

"You think I did?" Lucius asked, rolling his eyes. "Learn by doing, Severus. You'll doubtlessly make mistakes—many of them, in fact—but without mistakes, how do we know the right way?"

Severus nodded thoughtfully. He supposed that he knew what not to do, by example of his own father. If he did the opposite of everything Tobias Snape had done, then perhaps he might actually get it right.

Lucius smiled at him and stood. "I'll take my leave. Do visit us at the Manor on Friday, Severus. We can introduce Harry to my Draco, and we'll arrange the transfer of an elf."

"Thank you, Lucius. Really. I'm not sure what I would have done without you."

"You're most welcome, my friend. I'll have Narcissa visit tomorrow to go over the list of things you'll need for at least the next few months."

Severus watched Lucius go through the flames, and looked down at the sleeping boy in his lap. He was loath to disturb him, but time was getting on, and he needed to feed and bathe him before bedtime.

As Harry curled into him even more, a soft sigh leaving him, Severus tightened his arm. Perhaps he could let him sleep just a little longer.

…

As the weeks passed, Severus and Harry got themselves into a routine that fit them both. Hippy, the house-elf Lucius had signed over to Severus, was a godsend. While Severus enjoyed spending time with Harry, having Hippy meant that he had time to complete his own jobs without having to worry about Harry getting hurt.

They also spent a few afternoons a week at Malfoy Manor, where Harry had found a fast friend in Draco.

They'd had a small party for Harry's fourth birthday, and the little boy had been enamoured by the balloons, and had babbled excitedly about the presents he'd received. Severus knew from Petunia's mind that the two birthday's he'd spent with them had been ignored entirely.

September was fast approaching though, and with it, the start of the new term at Hogwarts. While Severus knew that Hippy would be able to keep Harry secure in his quarters while Severus taught his classes, he found himself glad that he'd been able to sign Harry into the same school that Lucius was sending Draco.

He thought the blond might have something to do with the quick acceptance, but it was just another thing to add to the list of things he was grateful for where Lucius was concerned.

It would be easier in a way, to know that Harry was safe at school rather than stuck in his quarters at Hogwarts, but Severus also knew that it would be more stressful to know that he wasn't on the same premises.

Thankfully, the school had been quite happy to allow Severus to add Lucius to Harry's emergency contacts—if anything happened while Harry was in school, they'd contact Lucius, who would then be able to make up an excuse to interrupt Severus' classes.

With so much maneuvering, it was no wonder that Severus was exhausted by the time the first of September rolled around.

Despite knowing he had to be at Hogwarts, Severus took the time to keep their usual breakfast ritual intact, making pancakes for Harry and helping him get dressed when he was finished eating.

He dropped Harry off at Malfoy Manor just after eight, with a promise to see him later that evening, before he flooed directly into his private quarters.

He'd barely opened the door into the corridor when Albus ambushed him with twinkling eyes and a wide smile.

"Severus, my boy! I was getting quite worried that you'd decided you no longer wanted to teach!"

Severus snorted. Like he had the option to give it up. He shook his head, straightening his black robes as he fell into step with the headmaster.

"Have you had an enjoyable summer, Severus?"

"It was fine, I suppose," Severus replied, tone intentionally dismissive. "I made some small headway on my research on the Wolfsbane potion, so it hasn't been entirely unproductive."

"Good, good. I was actually hoping for your help on a project if you've the time, my boy," Dumbledore said, as the gargoyle to his office slid aside for them to enter.

Severus followed the headmaster up to his office, and waited for him to elaborate, which he didn't until the door was firmly closed and they were seated at the desk.

A tea set appeared on the desk between them, and then a second later, a cup of coffee for Severus. The elves knew him well.

Under the table, Severus cast a spell on the mug to make sure his drink was untainted, before he wrapped a hand around it appreciatively.

"You remember that I placed young Harry Potter with his family, following the tragedy at Godric's Hollow?"

Severus couldn't help grimacing, and Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look, clearly believing the look to have been brought on by thoughts of Lily, rather than the 'family' that Harry had been left with.

Severus was quite happy to leave him to his delusions.

"What of it?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It seems that the boy has disappeared," Dumbledore admitted. "I checked in on him a few days ago when I realised that the wards had been particularly inactive over the summer and found him gone. I found a memory in Petunia's mind—"

"You left him with Petunia?" Severus asked, not having to pretend at his horror. "Are you insane? She despised her sister!"

"Quite," Dumbledore muttered, looking away. "I confess that I didn't realise quite how deep the feeling went, until I visited her again. Regardless, it seems that young Harry was appropriated by a wizard sometime this summer. Petunia just handed him over, she didn't even question it!"

"Imagine that," Severus muttered, shaking his head. "What would you have me do, Headmaster? If you've seen the memory, then you'll have a better idea at who took the boy, surely? I cannot imagine there are many wizards in the country that you're completely unaware of."

"That's just it, Severus. I didn't recognise the man in her memories. I've spent the last few days wracking my memories, trying to stir up even someone with a resemblance, and I can think of no one."

"Unfortunate," Severus replied. "I'm still not sure what you'd have me do? And why you think I'd care about the spawn of Potter at all, in actuality."

"He's Lily's child too, Severus," Albus reprimanded softly. "And didn't I ask that you protect him?"

Severus put his mug down on the desk. "You did. And had you told me where you'd placed him, I'd have been able to do so by telling you that you'd placed him in the worst place he could possibly be. Given that you didn't, I'm not entirely sure what you think I can do about it now that the child is missing!"

"I would just ask that you put the feelers out," Dumbledore replied. "Perhaps contact Malfoy and his ilk."

"You think one of the Dark Lord's followers has him?" Severus asked, arching his eyebrows. "If you truly believe as much, Headmaster, then the boy is as good as dead already. Any searching would be pointless."

"Severus."

With a huff, Severus sat back in his seat and nodded. "I'll contact Lucius this evening and see if I can't chase a few of his lesser known supporters."

"Thank you, Severus. I knew I could count on you."

When Severus left the office a few minutes later, he barely managed to stop himself from smirking.

For now, at least, everything was going to plan.

…

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, when he practically fell through the fireplace following Lucius' summons. He'd been mid-lesson, and never had a lesson taken so long to come to an end as progressively worse scenarios ran through his mind.

It was the first time in the year since Harry started school that Lucius had had to call him before the end of classes, and everything from illness to kidnapping had run through Severus' head.

"Harry has come down with wizard flu, Severus," Lucius replied softly, nodding his head towards the library. "I've laid him down with his teddy, but he's been quite insistent on only wanting one person."

Severus followed his friend to the library and sighed when his eyes caught on the little boy lying on the chaise by the fire, covered in blankets, a miserable air about him.

"Harry?"

Harry twisted, and as soon as he caught sight of Severus, burst into tears. Teddy discarded, he held his hands out for Severus.

"Daddy," he cried out, and Severus froze.

Daddy. Harry hadn't called him that before, tending towards Sev'rus, or just Sev when he was tired or cranky. Lucius nudged him forward, and Severus bent slightly to pick him up, cradling him close, rocking gently where he stood.

"Oh, sweetheart, are you feeling poorly?" he murmured. "You'll be okay, I promise. Daddy will make you better."

Harry pressed closer, and Severus turned to look at Lucius, eyes wide with surprise. Lucius just smiled at him.

"The best feeling in the world, no?" he murmured, as Harry's crying lessened, turning to the occasional sniffle as he drifted off in Severus' arms. "I believe I have the potion in my stockroom, but I didn't want to give him anything without your permission."

"Thank you," Severus replied softly. "Since I made everything in your stockroom, I'd appreciate it if you could fetch him the potion—and in future if he needs anything, you have my permission to give it to him so long as I'm the one that made it."

Lucius nodded. "As you say, you make all of our potions, Severus. I'd never dream of allowing potions in my stockroom made by any other. I'll fetch him the remedy. You can stay with him for a while?"

"I sent a patronus message to Albus about an emergency," Severus replied. "He's not expecting me back until tomorrow."

Lucius smiled before he left to get the potion and Severus sat down with Harry on his lap. While he knew that Harry calling him 'Daddy' was likely a by-product of him being ill, it had still warmed his heart to know that he was doing well enough in his care for the child that he could be trusted with such a title.

"I won't let you down, Harry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his messy hair. "I'll take care of you."

…

Draco's sixth birthday was a production and a half, but Harry seemed happy to be there, mixing in with the other children. He seemed to stick close to Draco, but the blond boy also seemed quite eager to pull Harry along with him, so Severus was happy enough to leave them to it.

Of course, Lucius had gone all out for the party now that Draco had more friends to invite and by the time the party was over and the majority of the children had been collected, Harry and Draco were slumped together on the rug in front of the fire in Draco's room, fast asleep.

"You can both stay," Lucius offered with a small smile. "It seems a shame to separate them when they've had such a good day, and I know that you like to spend as much time with him as you can on the weekends."

Severus agreed easily, and the adults retired to the parlour, Narcissa joining them as Miffy, one of the Malfoy elves, brought a bottle of wine for them to share.

"The boys seem to be growing quite close," Narcissa said with a small smile as she accepted a glass from Lucius. "I'm glad. It will make their Hogwarts life much easier when they get there."

Severus groaned. "I'm not even thinking about Hogwarts yet. It's going to take some ridiculous maneuvering to keep Dumbledore unaware of where Harry is living."

"It won't be too hard," Lucius replied, shaking his head. "If you time it correctly, you can be on holiday with Harry when the letters go out, and it will simply be addressed to wherever you are holidaying."

Severus nodded. "Of course. It's more that I'm considering that I'm going to be asking my eleven year old son to pretend he doesn't know me. It's a lot for any child to have to deal with."

"Harry is a smart child," Narcissa pointed out. "He'll understand, and Draco will help him."

"We'll just have to make him a Slytherin before he goes," Lucius said with a small smirk. "Which, given the adults he is surrounded with, shouldn't be a huge difficulty."

Severus chuckled. He was infinitely glad that he wasn't doing this alone. He'd have been doomed.

…

"Bath time, Harry," Severus said, summoning the book from Harry's hands when the boy showed no indication that he'd even heard him speak.

The six-year-old looked up and pouted.

"Daddy!"

"Bath time," Severus repeated.

"My book," Harry protested, holding his hands out. Surprising both of them, the book flew across the room back into Harry's waiting hands, and Harry smiled smugly.

Severus blinked and then laughed. "Of course books would be the cause for your first accidental magic. Lucius is right, you are a little book gremlin."

"Gremlin," Harry laughed, as he always did when Lucius called him such.

"Don't tell Lucius I called you that," Severus said, scooping the boy up under one arm, and dropping the book to the chair. "He'll be unbearably smug that it's catching on."

…

"Unless Lucius is lying—and that is, of course, entirely possible—none of the Purebloods have taken in any children not their own," Severus said, when Dumbledore questioned his progress on searching for the missing Boy-Who-Lived.

The headmaster sighed. "He cannot have just vanished. It's entirely unlikely that it was a muggle that took him, given Petunia's memory, though I suppose a Squib would be possible."

"It's possible that you're just going to have to wait until the boy is eleven, Albus. If you hear back from him—or whomever is taking care of him—when he receives his letter, then you'll know he's safe at the very least."

"Quite so, dear boy," Albus replied. He gestured to one of the contraptions on the mantle and added, "At the very least, he is alive. His magical signature is still healthy."

Severus closed his eyes for a moment. How obsessed was Albus that he was already tracking a child's magical signature? The old coot had lost his head over Harry Potter, that much was certain.

"If that's all, Headmaster, I'll take my leave. I'll see you at the end of summer."

"Have a good one, Severus. Do try and take a break from your research and enjoy some sunshine, won't you?"

"As you say, Headmaster."

Severus bowed his head and left Hogwarts, already considering his plans for the summer with Harry. He'd certainly be getting some sun. Harry had a list of places his classmates had kindly informed him of, including the beach, the zoo and the aquarium.

Severus was in for a busy couple of months.

…

"He's quite powerful," Severus said, his brow furrowed. "More so than I'd expect from a child his age."

Harry was nearing his seventh birthday, but he was already proving to have some control over his magic, something that was practically unheard of at such a young age.

"You should take him to Gringotts," Lucius suggested. "They can check him over, and it would be interesting to check his heritage. You know my opinion that muggleborns must stem from pureblood families, it's possible he had an old magical inheritance that you're not aware of."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Can the Goblins be trusted to hold their silence on his identity, though? The last thing I need is for Dumbledore to find out that Harry has been in the bank, let alone find out that he's with me."

"They take client confidentiality very seriously," Lucius replied. "They'd no more tell Dumbledore about Harry than I would. I think it's worth it… though perhaps, go undercover. A glamour on yourself, at least, in case you're seen in Diagon Alley."

"They won't find that offensive?" Severus asked. He'd only ever been to the bank once to open his account, having little need to keep returning when he had a pouch he could draw from directly. Given he had no inheritance or title to speak of, he had little reason to deal with the Goblins personally.

"They'll perhaps be a little short with you," Lucius admitted. "But once you explain the situation, they'll be fine, I'm quite sure. It'll be worth it, Severus, to get a full reading of Harry's heritage."

…

"Just a quick little prick, Harry," Severus promised, bouncing his son slightly as the Goblin, Errongulf, nicked his finger and squeezed the blood onto the parchment.

Severus healed the small cut immediately after, and then watched as writing filled the parchment.

"Harry James Potter," Errongulf confirmed, picking up the parchment. "First generation pureblood. He has the Potter magics, of course, and those passed down from the Peverells. There is… something interesting about that curse scar on his head."

Severus frowned, his arms tightening slightly around Harry. "Interesting?"

"Quite. Please wait here while I discuss this with our resident healer. I'll return shortly."

"I can read now, Daddy?" Harry asked, as the Goblin left the room, and Severus nodded, handing Harry the book he'd brought with them to keep his little bookworm occupied.

Severus occupied himself by looking around the room, taking in the ornate wall tapestries and subtle design details that seemed to be hiding everywhere he looked.

Even the ink bottle was unlike any he'd ever seen before, the ink inside it having a strangely iridescent hint to it that made Severus want to look closer.

Thankfully, Errongulf didn't take long to return, and he took his seat at the desk with a serious expression on his face.

"Would you mind if I were to create a small ward around the young master?" the Goblin asked. "This information is quite sensitive, and I'd hate to be the cause of upset for him, especially with him being so young."

Severus nodded his permission and felt the shimmer of magic surround Harry moments later. Harry, head still in his book, didn't seem to notice.

"Mr Potter seems to be the receptacle of a horcrux," Errengulf said, his eyes on Harry's scar. "When he was attacked by the Dark Lord Voldemort, it would appear that the Dark Lord left behind a part of his own soul. When separated, unless guided into an object, soul pieces will latch onto the nearest living thing they can find; in this case, the child."

Severus wasn't quite sure what to do with that. He looked down at Harry and frowned slightly. "So, Harry is… the Dark Lord?"

"No, no," Errongulf replied, shaking his head. "No, Mr Potter still has his own soul. A slither of the Dark Lord's has simply attached itself to him, taking up residence in the scar on his head. It's possible that Mr Potter will have gained some of the Dark Lord's power but otherwise, he is still wholly Harry James Potter."

"Okay. Is there a way to remove it?"

The Goblin winced. "For it to be removed, the child must either die or be put through an extremely painful ritual that could well kill him before he made it to the end. I must ask you that if there is any chance of leaving the slither alone, I would recommend doing so."

"Right. And… will it affect Harry negatively if we just… leave it there?"

"Unlikely," Errongulf replied. "However should the Dark Lord return, which seems likely, given this development, the two of them will have a connection of sorts. How that will present, I cannot be sure."

Severus sighed. When he'd arrived at the Wizarding bank that morning, he hadn't expected Harry's magic test to be due to anything so… utterly unexpected.

"While you are here," Errongulf added, "there are a couple of other things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Okay," Severus replied.

"We'd like to run the same test on you that we ran on young Mr Potter. I believe there may be a dead Lordship waiting for you. Your mother's name is Prince, correct?"

"It is. Was."

"Then I believe you could possibly be eligible to renew the Prince line, Mr Snape. And, there is also the matter of a formal adoption of your young charge here."

Severus blinked. "I didn't realise that a halfblood could inherit the Prince line."

"That is what I'd like to check," Errongulf replied, readying a new piece of parchment.

"As far as adopting Harry," Severus added. "I'd love to, but at the moment, I'm concerned about being discovered by Albus Dumbledore or the Ministry of Magic."

"Adoption via Gringotts is completely confidential," Errongulf replied. "It is nobody else's business as far as we are concerned."

Severus held out his hand for Errongulf to prick his finger as he added, "I'd also like to wait until Harry is old enough to make a decision for himself. It may come that he doesn't want to be adopted. I believe he has the right to choose for himself."

"Very well."

A smaller amount of writing appeared on the parchment born from Severus' blood, and the Goblin grinned.

"As I suspected, you are indeed eligible to revive the Prince name and Lordship, Mr Snape. Would you have me bring you the ring?"

Severus blinked and then nodded his head. "I… yes. Please. Thank you."

…

"Where's Harry?" Draco asked, almost as soon as he and Lucius had stepped through the flames of the study fireplace.

"Where is he ever, but in the library," Lucius replied, and then glanced at Severus for confirmation.

Severus rolled his eyes but nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. They were in Prince Manor, having only moved from Spinner's End a few days earlier. Severus had spent months preparing the Manor to be a home for himself and Harry, and he was happy to finally be able to show it off a little.

Lucius looked around with interest as Severus guided the way, an impressed look on his face. It was a beautiful Manor, of course; Severus was fully aware of that. Perhaps not quite as grand as Malfoy Manor, but certainly no slouch, either.

"Ah, there's the little book gremlin," Lucius called when they entered the library to see Harry sprawled on a rug on his stomach, a book open in front of him.

Harry laughed, rolling onto his back. "Uncle Lucius! Draco!"

"Why don't you show Draco your room while I show Lucius the rest of the Manor, Harry?"

Harry nodded, tugging at Draco's hand as they left the room. Severus and Lucius meandered from room to room, Severus pointing out certain features he loved, and the few that were still left to change.

"Have you informed Dumbledore of your change of address?" Lucius asked, arching his eyebrow as the two finally seated themselves in the parlour.

Hippy fetched two tumblers of scotch and silently put them on the table.

"Hippy, can you make Harry and Draco something to eat, please?" Severus requested. "And keep an eye on them."

"Of course, Sir," Hippy replied, her ears twitching slightly as she popped out.

"And no, I haven't informed him," Severus replied to Lucius. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, and Hippy can check Spinner's End for any post every few days without effort."

"Quite right, Severus," Lucius agreed. "This will also help with the Hogwarts situation. Prince Manor has long been unplottable and untraceable, so he'll not be able to follow the owl who brings Harry's Hogwarts letter. It'll only register a name on the envelope, rather than an address if you're within the wards when the letter is written."

Severus smiled. "I know. Quite the weight off my shoulders. It helps that, should it become necessary, I have somewhere to keep Harry safe from… anyone who may come looking for him."

"You're doing a wonderful job with him, Severus. You have a child to be proud of."

"I know."

…

Harry accepted the training wand with glee, holding it carefully in his hands as though he'd been handed something precious. Severus smiled at him, and then snorted when he saw Draco waving his own around like he was a pirate with a sword.

Lucius rolled his eyes at his son.

"Your tutor should be arriving shortly," Severus told them. "Perhaps it would be an idea to read the first chapter of your wand handling books while you wait."

"I've read the book, Dad," Harry replied.

"Oh," Lucius said, raising a hand to his chest in fake shock. "The gremlin has already finished a book, I'm so very surprised!"

Harry giggled. "M' not a gremlin, Uncle Lucius!"

"You're my little book gremlin," Lucius replied, hefting the eight year old up in his arms and tickling him mercilessly. "And even when you're old, like, thirty, you'll still be my little gremlin. The name is yours forever now!"

"Uncle Lucius!" Harry screeched, trying to fight the hands tickling him but laughing too much to be able to do much of anything.

"Am I interrupting?"

Lucius let Harry down to stand beside Draco as Severus greeted Demetrius Affonze, the tutor he and Lucius had decided on for the boys.

"Ah, I see you've already given the boys their training wands, good, good. Well boys? Shall we begin?" Demetrius asked, a small smile on his face.

Severus and Lucius stepped back towards the door to watch as Demetrius quickly settled the boys down.

"Hippy," Severus called softly, looking down at the elf when she appeared. "Keep an eye on things, okay?"

"Of course, Sir."

…

"Have you heard anything about Harry at all, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, as he always did when he called Severus up to his office.

"No, Albus, no more than the last time you asked," Severus replied. His temper was already uneven—Harry had been feeling a little out of sorts that morning, and he'd hated to leave the boy at Malfoy Manor.

"Apologies, my boy," Albus murmured. "I know I ask a lot of you. Sit, sit, we can at least enjoy tea while we prepare for the new term."

"Actually, Albus, I'm in something of a rush today. My syllabus isn't changing from the one I usually use, except for the addition of Felix Felicis for the seventh year. I think I finally have a class capable of making a somewhat decent attempt at it for a change."

"Good, good," Albus replied absently.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"If that's all?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course. You can go, I'll see you in a few days, Severus."

Severus nodded, and turned away. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a Gringotts letter on the edge of Dumbledore's desk. Usually, he wouldn't think twice, but the sight of his son's name gave him pause.

"You've had news of Potter from the bank, Albus?" he asked, forcing his voice calm as he nodded to the letter.

Albus shook his head. "The Goblins are being most unhelpful. The only thing they'll admit to is that the Potter vaults haven't been closed. All that tells me is that Harry is alive, unfortunately, not where he is or with whom."

Severus nodded slowly and then turned to the door. He wanted to be surprised that Albus would even contact the bank for information, but he wasn't. Not really.

"Have a good day, Headmaster."

He had a son to get home to.

…

At Lucius' insistent prodding, Severus didn't wait long past Harry's ninth birthday to sit him down for a serious talk. It was still too early in Severus' opinion, but he also knew the merits of Lucius' prodding.

The time before Harry would be at Hogwarts was getting less and less, and time seemed to be going entirely too quickly.

"Harry, you know how we've spoken about your parents? Your birth parents, I mean?"

Harry nodded, his green eyes wide and innocent, looking at Severus with such open trust that it was enough to hurt Severus' heart.

"James and Lily Potter," Harry replied.

"That's right, well remembered," Severus encouraged softly. "So, we know James will always be your father, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed, his head tilting slightly to the side. "But you're still my Dad, right?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Severus said. "There's a thing called adoption, I don't know if you've come across it in one of the many books you've read?"

Harry nodded. "When somebody wants a kid to be their kid."

"That's right. I've been waiting until you were old enough to have a say in this, Harry, because it's important to know that I don't want to do anything you don't want, okay?"

"Okay."

"How would you feel if I adopted you? Officially, I mean? Even if you don't want this, you'll always be my son, Harry. I'll still be your dad, okay? But if you wanted to be my son officially, we can do it via the Goblins at Gringotts. You remember Errongulf?"

"You want me?" Harry asked, his eyes seeming to shine even brighter than usual. "For keeps?"

"Oh, Harry. I've always wanted you for keeps," Severus replied. He quickly found himself with his arms full of an exuberant nine-year-old, and Severus grinned into Harry's hair.

"Can we go and do it now?" Harry asked, pulling back just enough to look Severus in the face.

"I'll write the letter immediately to set up the appointment," Severus promised.

…

Severus signed on the dotted line with a flourish he rarely had the patience for, and grinned when the adoption papers flashed with acceptance.

"Congratulations," Errongulf offered, wrapping the parchment into a scroll. "This will be placed into your vault for safe keeping, Lord Prince."

"Thank you," Severus replied.

Harry looked up at him, eyes sparkling, a wide grin lifting his lips. "Am I a Prince now, too, Dad?"

"You're still a Potter, son, for your safety when you go to Hogwarts. Like I'm still officially a Snape, you remember?"

Harry nodded. "But my full name?"

"Harry James Potter-Prince," Severus confirmed with a smile.

Harry's grin, if possible, got even wider. "I can't wait to tell Draco!"

…

Severus couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Lucius lift Harry onto his shoulders to put the star on top of the tree. Draco had already done one of the trees—because of course, one tree wasn't enough for Malfoy Manor—and had graciously offered the second to Harry.

Harry had already done the one at home, but given they were planning to spend the few days over Christmas with the Malfoys, it was nice for Harry to be able to do one there too.

"There we go, gremlin, nice and straight," Lucius complimented, as he let Harry down from his shoulders.

Severus huffed, even as Harry grinned up at Lucius.

"Uncle Lucius?"

"What is it, Harry?"

"You like reading too, right?"

Lucius tilted his head, sensing the trap but curious to know where it would lead him. "I do."

"Does that mean you're Uncle Gremlin?"

Severus laughed as Harry ran, Lucius giving chase across the large lounge room, and he shook his head. Who knew that this would be his family?

…

Harry curled up on the beanbag Lucius conjured for him, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. Severus ran a hand through his hair, smiling when Harry leaned into his touch.

While Draco seemed to be growing out of hugs and physical affection, Harry still seemed to crave it. Severus wondered if it was a product of the years he spent with the Dursleys, but often tried not to give it too much thought.

It made him murderous, and he did his best to quell such impulses most of the time.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" Harry asked, looking between the two adults.

Harry was ten now, almost eleven, and Severus knew he had little options left but to tell Harry that he was a Horcrux.

That didn't mean he was particularly happy about it.

"You remember that first trip to the bank?" he started. "When Errongulf put the ward around you while you were reading, so you couldn't hear us talking?"

Harry nodded.

"When he did the scan on you, he found something in your scar," Severus ran his thumb over the lightning bolt on Harry's forehead. "When the Dark Lord attacked you, he left a part of his soul behind, and it attached itself to you."

Harry blinked up at him. "His soul?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. When his curse rebounded on him, it caused his soul to break. A little piece escaped and you were the only living thing it could attach to. It's why you could talk to the snakes when we went to the zoo, you remember?"

Harry bit his lip. "Am I bad, Dad? Did he make me… am I evil?"

"No," Lucius said, even as Severus tugged the beanbag closer to him to hug his son close. "No, Harry, you're one of the purest children I've ever known. I swear to you, there's not a bad bone in your body."

"What it means though, is that when the Dark Lord returns—"

"He's coming back?"

"He will," Severus murmured. "He will, Harry, and when he does, when he learns that you're a Horcrux, he's going to want you on his side."

"Why?"

"A horcrux is precious," Lucius murmured. "Harry, you know that your parents were on the light side, with Dumbledore?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at the mention of the headmaster, and Severus had to bite back a grin at the sight, even as his son nodded.

"During the war, I was on the Dark Lord's side," Lucius said. "And when he returns, I will be again. Severus is too."

Harry blinked up at his dad. "You were too?"

"I was," Severus replied. "You've seen the faded tattoo on my arm?"

Harry nodded.

"That's called a Dark Mark, and it was the Lord's mark for his followers. When he comes back, it'll regain its colour. Now, I need you to listen to me, okay? If you want to hide from him, if you don't want anything to do with him, that we can do that. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do, okay? It's important you know that, Harry."

"I don't have to decide now, right?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing. "He's not… he's not back now, right?"

"No, he's not, and no, you don't," Lucius confirmed softly. "We just thought that you deserved to know, and the longer you have to think, the longer you have to make an informed decision."

Harry nodded, leaning back against Severus' legs. Severus ran his fingers through Harry's hair and told himself that it was enough that Harry hadn't run screaming from the room when he realised that Severus was on the side of the man who'd killed his parents.

He tried to tell himself that it would all work out in the end, but looking down at Harry—only ten, and yet dealing with things that even adults would quake at—he couldn't be sure.

In all honesty, he wanted to wrap the child in cotton wool and keep him at home, safe behind the wards of Prince Manor, for the rest of eternity so he wouldn't have to face the cruelness of the world outside.

If only it could be that easy.

…

Before Harry's eleventh birthday party—hosted by Lucius and Narcissa, since Severus was many things, but a natural host he was not—they made a quick visit to the bank.

With his eleventh birthday came his Heir rings, and while Severus usually wouldn't be in such a hurry for Harry to get them, the Prince protections came with an addition that many did not.

It protected against mind magic.

Most Heir rings came with some form of protection for the child that bore it, be it against hexes and curses, or potions, or warding against magical creatures.

The Potter ring had protections against potions, but it was the Prince one that Severus was eager to get on Harry's finger. He was too young to learn Occlumency with any success, and Severus wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to try and get into his mind to find out where he'd been.

Errongulf handed over the rings, and they watched as Harry slipped them on, first the Potter ring, then the Prince ring, giggling at the tingle on his fingers as they resized to fit him.

"If you will the Prince one to hide, Harry, then nobody will be able to see it but you. You just have to ask it," Severus said softly.

Harry frowned. "It's just a ring, Dad, how am I meant to ask it to hide?"

Severus chuckled. "With your magic, son."

Sticking his tongue out a little, Harry concentrated hard, and Severus watched as the Prince ring disappeared. He nodded.

"Cool," Harry murmured. "Can we go to Ollivander's now, Dad?"

"Of course, son. Thank you for your help, Errongulf."

"Of Course, Lord Prince. And once again, Master Harry, happy birthday."

…

"Where's the little gremlin?" Lucius asked, when Severus joined him by the fire.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I wish you wouldn't call him that. He's studious, not a gremlin."

Laughing, Lucius pointed out, "He hoards knowledge like a little gremlin. I've never seen a child so eager to learn, Severus. Besides, it makes him laugh."

Shaking his head and knowing that it wasn't an argument he was going to win—Lucius was right in that Harry loved the nickname—Severus replied, "He's in the library. When I left, Draco was trying to convince him to play hide and seek."

"Of course he's in the library," Lucius murmured. "He's a gremlin."

A moment later, he yelped when Severus' stinging hex hit his thigh.

"Hogwarts is only a month away," Lucius said after a moment, wrinkling his nose. "Do you think he's ready to meet Dumbledore?"

"As ready as I can make him," Severus replied, running a hand through his long dark hair. "The Prince Heir ring is working well, I've attempted to get past his mind walls multiple times and can't, so at least Dumbledore won't be able to pick at his memories at will."

"He's a good actor," Lucius said softly. "We've taught him well, Severus, I believe he'll be fine. And he won't be alone."

"If he gets into Slytherin."

"That boy is more Slytherin than Salazar himself."

Severus snorted, but eventually, he nodded. Harry was as prepared as he could be, and so was Severus himself. Whatever happened from here on in, Harry's safety was paramount.

…

Harry held tightly to Hippy's hand as she popped him from Prince Manor to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. While he would have loved his dad to take him, or even to have been allowed to travel with the Malfoys, he understood why Hippy was the one who had to deliver him to the train.

Dumbledore wasn't allowed to know anything about Harry's life because he'd use it against him, and it would get his dad in trouble. That was the last thing Harry wanted.

"Harry needs to get on the train, Sir," Hippy said, nodding to the gleaming scarlet carriages. "Hippy will bring the trunk on."

Harry nodded and climbed on. He caught Lucius' eye in the crowd and the blond winked at him slyly. Even just that smallest acknowledgement made Harry feel worlds better, and it was with a grin that he found an empty compartment and settled himself inside.

Draco had promised to come and find him.

"If Harry needs anything at school, he's to call for Hippy," the elf ordered firmly, clicking his fingers. Harry's trunk appeared on the rack above the seats. "Anything. Hippy is be keeping Harry safe."

"Thank you, Hippy," Harry replied. He reached down to hug Hippy tightly. Draco and Lucius both thought it was weird, but Hippy had been with Harry for years now. He didn't think it was weird that he liked her. "I'll see you soon."

Hippy nodded to him and with a final smile, she disappeared. Harry glanced around the empty compartment and sighed to himself before he pulled the book he'd brought for the ride from his pocket.

Enlarging it with a tap of his wand, he settled in to read. Who knew how long it was going to take Draco to find him?

…

Draco appeared about an hour into the ride to Hogwarts, two boys that Harry didn't know behind him.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, pointing them out. Harry nodded to them, glad when Draco pointed them down towards another carriage before he came in and sat down on the bench facing Harry. "Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you."

Harry grinned, offering his hand, which Draco took and shook immediately.

"Harry Potter."

Draco tilted his head. "So it's true. I wondered if I'd be seeing you this year, Potter."

Harry arched his eyebrow. "Really."

"Oh yes. My father told me to keep an eye out for you, you know. What with your history."

Harry snorted, unable to help himself. Draco rolled his eyes, and the two fell into conversation about the book Harry had been reading.

It was only about half an hour later when the compartment door opened again, and a redhead stumbled in. He had dirt on his nose, and his hair was a mess—and given Harry's hair disasters, that was saying something.

"Do you mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full," the boy asked, leaning against the frame awkwardly.

Draco wrinkled his nose, but Harry shot him a warning look. He nodded to the seat beside him.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the boy introduced himself.

Draco sneered, looking away. Harry rolled his eyes at his best friend. Family feuds were stupid in his opinion, but he'd heard enough about the issues between the Weasleys and the Malfoys to know that Draco was never going to get on with this kid.

"Harry," Harry offered, resisting the urge to smooth his hair over his forehead. "And that's Draco Malfoy."

Weasley let out a noise of disgust, glaring at Draco. Harry arched his eyebrow.

"If you've a problem, you're welcome to go and sit elsewhere," he said, tone a little chillier than it had been.

"Maybe I should. Wouldn't want to sit with snakes, I might get poisoned."

"Bye then," Harry said, nodding to the door. He had no time for prejudiced people. Hadn't his dad told him about the way Slytherins were ostracised from most of the school due to stupid house prejudices? It was ridiculous.

The idea that you had to belong to a certain house was so stupid. They were sorted at eleven! Harry thought that being ostracised might cause more of the Slytherins to become 'evil'—but that was more a product of a bad system.

He shook his head as Weasley stomped off. "Idiot."

Draco snorted. "I mean, Father did say."

Harry shrugged. "Gotta give people a chance, Dray. I'd hate to be judged for my surname before people even met me."

"Better get used to it, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Well. Maybe I'll just have to surprise people."

…

Severus watched as his son walked into the hall, Draco at his side. They were pointing to things, and Severus had to bite back a smile at the look of wonder on their faces.

Even Draco, who'd always taken magic for granted, was looking impressed by the Great Hall.

He glanced to the side to see Dumbledore scanning the new students. He was sitting forward in his chair, his eyes twinkling extra bright as he stared hard.

McGonagall stepped up to the podium and placed the hat on the stool, before she let her scroll of student names fall open.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

Severus watched, uninterested as the students moved to their tables as the hat called out their houses. He perked up a little when Draco took his seat, chuckling when the hat barely touched his blond hair before it was screaming out the house of the serpents.

He nodded to Draco when the child took his seat, and then turned his attention back to Harry, noticing that Draco did the same, ignoring the welcomes in favour of waiting for his friend.

Eventually, her voice breaking just slightly, Minerva called, "Potter, Harry."

The atmosphere in the hall shifted slightly as Harry walked calmly up to the stool. He sat down, his eyes disappearing as the hat fell over them. Along the table, he could practically feel Dumbledore's tension emanating from him, and he clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm as he waited.

It seemed to take longer for Harry to be sorted than anyone else, but finally, finally, the hat announced, "SLYTHERIN!"

Severus bit his lip to stop the smile as Harry joined Draco, the two boys high fiving as he sat down beside him.

Severus let out a sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the sorting as the last of the children were sent to their tables.

He'd have to Floo Lucius later with the news.

…

Severus wasn't surprised to be summoned to the headmaster's office before he'd even had a chance to check in on the Slytherin common room. He sent a quick note to the Slytherin Prefects to keep the first years in the common room until he could make it there.

It was tradition that he welcomed them to Slytherin on the first night of the new year, and he certainly wasn't going to drop the tradition this year.

"Can we make this quick, Albus?" he requested as he walked into the headmaster's office. "I need to check in on my new snakes, make sure they understand what will be expected of them."

"Yes, yes, of course. I wanted to talk to you about young Harry. Quite unexpected that he'd be in Slytherin, but perhaps it's a good thing," Albus replied. "You'll keep an eye on him, won't you, Severus?"

"I keep an eye on all of my first years, Albus, as you well know."

Albus nodded and then looked down at his hands. "He doesn't look like I'd expected he would."

Severus frowned. "What were you expecting?"

The headmaster shook his head. "More… surprise, perhaps? He was clearly used to magic, Severus. He's been brought up by somebody with knowledge of our world, if not a witch or wizard."

Severus nodded. "Quite. Well, if you'll excuse me? I have a welcoming speech of my own to give."

"Of course, my boy. And, Severus?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Do try and connect with the boy, won't you? A little more information never hurt anyone after all."

"As you say, Sir."

…

"Dad?" Harry murmured, slipping into Severus' private lab.

Severus looked up. "What is it, son? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded, but frowned. "I'm not sure if it means anything, but Professor Quirrel makes my scar hurt. It's like a tickle most of the time, but when he comes really close, it burns."

Severus beckoned him over, hugging him to his chest. He pressed his thumb over Harry's scar, rubbing the skin for a moment.

"Leave it to me, okay? I'll see if I can't make you a salve for it, and I'll speak to Lucius and perhaps the goblins about why it would be hurting, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Of course. Thank you for coming and telling me. Do you need a pain potion for it now?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm okay."

"Okay. Why don't you tell me about your first week and help me chop these flobberworms up, hmm? I have half an hour free and nobody should be bothering me for a while."

Harry grinned up at him. "Sure."

…

Harry woke up to Draco jumping on his bed.

"Come on, lazybones! Christmas!"

Harry laughed, but allowed himself to be dragged from beneath the warm sheets and out into the hall of Malfoy Manor. Lucius, Narcissa and Severus were already in the family room when the two boys arrived, and Harry made a beeline for Severus.

He leant into his dad's side as Hippy handed him a hot chocolate.

"Too early," Harry muttered, pressing his face against his dad's chest.

"Ah, you know Draco is never going to grow up when it comes to Christmas, Harry," Severus replied with a chuckle. "Lucius is just as bad, you know?"

Harry grimaced. "You mean I'll still have to deal with this when I'm old?"

Lucius gasped. "Harry James Potter, did you just call me old?"

Harry giggled. "Maybe."

"How dare you," Lucius said, putting his nose in the air as he tutted disapprovingly. "Narcissa, do something about the boy. I'm deeply offended."

Narcissa tilted her head slightly and then smiled wickedly. "Why don't you open the first gift, Harry dear?"

"Betrayed! By my own wife and my own gremlin!" Lucius said, shaking his head. "I'll never get over this betrayal. Not ever."

Draco passed Harry a present from the ever large pile beneath the tree, and Harry smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Dray." He checked the tag and then giggled again. "Thanks, Uncle Lucius."

"Hmph! I'm taking it back to the shop!"

Severus snorted. "Like a Malfoy would ever be caught taking something back to the shop."

"He's got you there, dear," Narcissa pointed out with a nod.

Lucius wrinkled his nose. "Fine, fine, open it, Gremlin. You're going to love it anyway. I give the best presents."

The gasp Harry gave when he read the book title said he agreed with his Uncle.

The pile beneath the tree lessened as the piles of opened gifts beside their recipients grew, and when there were only a few left, Draco threw another to Harry.

The paper didn't match any of the other presents, and Harry frowned at it. It was exceedingly light, and Harry glanced at Severus.

"Do you know who it's from, Dad?"

Severus shook his head, casting a couple of spells on the paper to check it for anything sinister. When he didn't find anything, he nodded for Harry to open it.

A cloak fell out, and everyone in the room except Harry gasped. Harry tilted his head as he ran his hand along the material and then his eyes widened.

"It's an invisibility cloak, isn't it, Dad?"

"It is," Severus replied, nodding. He pointed to a piece of card that had fallen out of the wrapping. "There's a note, Harry."

"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well."

Harry handed the card to Severus, and returned his eyes to the cloak. It had belonged to James Potter?

"Don't invisibility cloaks lose their potency?" he asked, looking up at Lucius, who was frowning at the cloak slightly. "Like, the spells wear off? How could this have belonged to my father?"

"This is from Dumbledore," Severus said. "I recognise his writing. What on earth is the old goat playing at?"

"Who gives an eleven year old an invisibility cloak?" Narcissa agreed, shaking her head. "For a headmaster, the man is ridiculously irresponsible."

Harry looked up at Severus. "Do you really think it was James' cloak, Dad?"

Severus sighed. "I don't know, son. I want you to promise me you won't be using it at Hogwarts though, okay? It's a useful tool to have at your disposal, but at least for now, I think you're a bit young to be playing with invisibility cloaks."

Harry nodded. "I promise."

"I have a couple more gifts for the boys, anyway," Lucius said, clearly intent on changing the subject and getting their Christmas back on track. He pulled two long gifts from the side of the sofa and grinned.

"Fancy a morning flying session, boys?"

…

"Have you managed to get any details about Harry's home life, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, as the summer term picked up.

All told, it had been quite an easy year, but Severus was looking forward to the summer—if only so that Harry was out of the castle, and out of Dumbledore's sphere of influence.

Not that he'd tried to approach Harry himself, which was as surprising as it was suspicious.

Severus shook his head. "Nothing particularly interesting. I believe he's living with someone magical, if that helps. He talks about a house elf called 'Hippy' quite a lot."

Dumbledore frowned and shook his head. "Perhaps they were using polyjuice when they took him from the Dursleys. Or a glamour, of course. It's the only explanation I can come up with."

Severus nodded. "Whoever it is, they've covered their tracks well. Potter hasn't mentioned the name of his guardians in my presence at all, and Lucius said the same when he went home with Draco for Christmas and Easter."

"Yes, those two seem to have become fast friends, don't they?"

Severus nodded. "Quite."

"Both bright boys, too," Dumbledore added. "They're the top of their classes, one or the other of them, with the other coming in second. According to Minerva, it's quite annoying her lion, Miss Granger. Apparently the poor dear is upset that she can't quite catch up to them."

"She's an insipid know-it-all," Severus growled. "Really, Albus, Minerva should be speaking to her about trying not to behave like she swallowed her text books. Maybe then she'll get higher marks."

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore reprimanded slightly. "She's trying very hard, Miss Granger, and she's a good student."

Severus rolled his eyes. Of course Dumbledore was sticking up for a Gryffindor, what else was new?

"Well, do keep your ears peeled, Severus. Perhaps you'll hear something. In the meantime, I believe I'll do a little more investigating at the Ministry. Perhaps someone there will know our mystery guardian."

Severus nodded, sighing. Merlin, but he was already looking forward to Harry's graduation.

…

"I saw Dumbledore put in the paperwork for another Defence teacher," Lucius said, pouring two tumblers of whisky. "What happened to Quirrel? I know you said he was a bit… odd."

Severus frowned. "He was. Stuttering all over the place like a bloody fool. How he was supposed to teach the students when he was scared of his own shadow, I have no idea. But… There was something strange about him. He was making Harry's scar hurt."

Lucius blinked. "The Horcrux scar?"

Severus nodded. "Quite so. I'm not sure why, but… surely it had to be something dark, right? For a Horcrux to react to him? I'm not completely sure about the function of Horcruxes beyond the obvious; the lack of reading material on the subject is really quite irksome."

Sipping from his glass, Lucius hummed lightly. "Did pain potions work for Harry?"

"I made him a salve that seemed to do the job well enough," Severus replied softly. "It took the edge off, if not all of the discomfort, but I'll continue working on it in case anything similar happens."

"What if… what if it was him," Lucius asked. "It can't be that Quirrel was marked, Harry has never reacted to either of us, after all. But—hear me out, Severus—given the Horcrux in Harry's scar, we know the Dark Lord has to still be out there, correct? What if he was possessing Quirrell?"

"Son of a bitch," Severus muttered, shaking his head. "The stone. You know Dumbledore was keeping the stone in the castle for Flamel? What if—"

"The Dark Lord wanted the stone to regain a body," Lucius finished with a grim smile.

"Why would he have not come to me in that case?" Severus asked.

"Perhaps he isn't sure if he can trust you? You've been living in the same castle as Dumbledore for ten years, Severus. It wouldn't be completely irrational to believe you'd been turned, would it?"

Severus grumbled under his breath, but nodded. "I suppose so. Though, that doesn't bode well for me when he does return, does it?"

"Don't worry so much, Severus," Lucius offered softly. "We can explain. I know he's curse happy sometimes but… he'll listen."

"I hope so."

…

"Merlin, he's actually an idiot," Harry ranted. "How are we supposed to learn anything from him when he can't even handle pixies?"

Draco snorted, shaking his head. "Good job we're ahead in our studies, or we'd be screwed. Then again, you remember what Demetri said when he had us read Lockhart's books, right?"

"Fairy tales," Harry agreed, grinning even as he slumped down on the common room sofa beside Draco. "We should probably supplement the lesson though. Do you think D—Professor Snape would maybe teach us a little when he has spare time?"

Draco's eyes glimmered at the almost slip, but then nodded. "We can always ask. Maybe even the prefects could do a couple of lessons a week with us or something. Anything has gotta be better than that nimrod."

"What is Dumbledore thinking?" Harry said, shaking his head. "He can't actually believe that Lockhart is a good teacher, right?"

"My dad says there's a curse on the Defence position," Draco replied. "Nobody can keep the job for longer than a year. At least we know he'll be gone by summer."

Harry chuckled. "Small mercies. Come on, let's go and see Professor Snape."

…

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and then looked at Draco. "Sorry, what?"

"Did you hear a word I just said?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes. "Why were you staring at the she-Weasel?"

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't, sorry. I was just lost in thought. What were you saying?"

As Draco repeated himself, Harry glanced over at the youngest Weasley again. There was something about her that felt… odd. Odd, but familiar.

He tried to pay attention to Draco, but he couldn't concentrate. He had to find out what was going on with little Weasley.

…

The invisibility cloak he'd promised he wouldn't use was draped around his shoulders comfortably, the hood hiding his face from view as he followed one of the second year Gryffindors up to their seventh floor common room. He slipped through the portrait behind them, pressing up against a wall so he didn't bump into anyone accidentally.

He spotted Weasley in the corner, writing feverishly in a small, black leather bound book. It took him a while to make it over to her corner, but he managed eventually, glancing over her shoulder from a distance.

He watched, horrified, as her writing sank into the page, only to be replaced with a different handwriting, the words looping elegantly across the page.

Well, that wasn't normal, even in the Wizarding World.

Harry watched until she finally packed up her stuff and then followed her to her dorm. He levitated himself up the stairs with a whispered "Wingardium Leviosa" on his trainers, knowing from Hogwarts: A History that the girls' staircases turned into slides if a boy tried to go up them.

He felt a bit weird being in the girls' dorm, but there was something about that book. Harry thought that it was that that was emanating the odd, familiar feeling he'd been getting and he wanted a closer look at it.

He sat in the window seat as he waited for Weasley to go to sleep, cursing his luck when she tucked the book under her pillow. When he thought it had been long enough, he used a summoning charm on the book and plucked it out of the air when it flew at him.

Weasley turned over, but didn't wake and Harry smiled to himself. Now that he had his hands on the book, he was certain it was the item that had made him feel weird, and he decided that he was taking it with him.

He wasn't sure why, but it felt like it was his.

Harry slipped from the dorm and back down to the common room, the book held securely in his pocket. He concentrated on getting back to the dungeons without being caught.

He couldn't believe what his dad would say if he were caught out at night, especially using the cloak.

When he made it back to his dorm, he tucked the cloak back into the bottom of his trunk where he usually kept it, and then sat on his bed, turning the book over in his hands.

Whatever it was, it really did feel like it belonged to him. Still, he knew better than to play with magical artifacts. He certainly wouldn't be writing in it, that was for sure.

He wasn't an imbecile.

Not sure what else to do with it, Harry tucked it into his trunk, inside the cloak. Until he knew what it was, he wouldn't do anything with it. Simply having it was enough. At least Weasley didn't have her paws all over it anymore.

Satisfied, Harry changed and climbed into bed. He knew he'd have to answer Draco's questions about where he was in the morning, but for now, he was completely done in.

…

Severus groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face. Why was it that just when it felt like things were going well, life decided to kick him?

And of course, this time, it was fucking Black. Of course it was.

Harry's second year was done, and it had been quiet. Really quiet. And Severus had been enjoying that, dammit.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Harry asked, frowning at him as he pottered into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk.

Severus grumbled under his breath. "There's been a breakout at Azkaban. Sirius Black."

Harry blinked at him. "My Godfather?"

"The one and only."

"Huh. That's different. How did he break out?"

Severus snorted. "You are far too used to me telling you bad news. I don't know how he did it, son, just that he did. The Ministry seems to be under the impression that he's after you, according to Lucius."

"Why? What did I do to him?"

"Nothing, Harry. Lucius doesn't believe it and neither do I. Of course, I've got no idea why he chose now to break out if he's had the means to do so all this time, but… yeah, I've got nothing, kid."

Harry snorted. "I'm sure it'll all come out eventually. It usually does."

"True enough," Severus agreed. "Are you ready to head over to the Malfoys? Lucius has been insufferable that you've been home for almost two weeks and you've not been to see him."

Harry chuckled but nodded. "Sure. Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Try not to worry about Mr Black, kay? It'll all be fine."

"I wish I had your faith, son."

…

"Divination is a waste of time and energy," Harry said, striking that option out with a flourish of his quill. "You've either got it or you haven't, you can't learn it."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Trelawney is a right weird old bat, as well. Apparently she chooses a student every year to like, continuously predict their death."

Harry laughed. "Knowing my luck, I'd be that unlucky student. Pass. What about Ancient Runes?"

Draco nodded. "Father wants me to take that. Runes give a pretty decent foundation for warding, and you always want to be able to make your own wards, you know?"

Harry nodded, ticking the box beside Ancient Runes. "Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Could be interesting? You like creatures," Draco pointed out. "And Professor Kettleburn—"

"Is retiring," Severus said, as he and Lucius entered the study. "Apparently, Albus has decided to promote Hagrid from groundskeeper to Professor."

Harry and Draco exchanged a look and both crossed off the lesson, shaking their heads.

Lucius laughed.

"Arithmancy then," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "Good enough."

Severus glanced over his shoulder at the electives and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Good choices, son."

Harry smiled at him and nodded.

"Flying?" Draco offered. "I'm trying out for the team this year, I need to practice."

"Sure, Dray," Harry replied with a shrug. As much as Harry enjoyed flying—and he really did—he was quite happy to leave Quidditch to others. "I want to grab a couple of books on Runes later though."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. How are you not a Ravenclaw?"

…

"Harry?"

Harry turned his head to find himself standing face to face with the man he'd seen splashed across the front page of almost every Prophet over the summer.

He tilted his head. "Mr Black."

He took a step back, sighing in relief when he felt the wards welcoming him. He and Draco had lost track of where they were and had flown low out of the wards. It was just his luck that the escaped prisoner would be there just as he was about to go back inside.

Draco had already gone in, the gates the only entry point for the wards. Harry hoped he'd looked back and seen Sirius, and gone to get one of their dads.

Sirius blinked at him. "Harry, I—"

"Stay right there, Black," Lucius growled, his wand trained on the escaped prisoner as he pulled Harry back until he was behind him and fully inside the wards.

"I'm not going to hurt him, Malfoy," Sirius growled. "I would never!"

"You'll excuse me if I don't take your word for that," Lucius replied. "Why are you here?"

"Heard in Diagon Alley that Harry had been seen there with your son," Sirius admitted. "I just… I just wanted to see if I could get a look at him. It's been years. He's my godson."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Boys," he called back. "Head on up to the house, and shut yourself in the library. Have one of the elves tell Severus to meet me in my study immediately."

Harry was about to protest when Draco pulled on his arm. Harry let himself be tugged up to the house, stumbling when he bumped straight into his dad.

"Black's here?" Severus asked, checking Harry over critically. "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "Uncle Lucius said we're to go to the library, and you're to meet him in his study."

Severus nodded. "Come on, I'll walk you to the library."

"Uncle Lucius—"

"You're more important than Black," Severus interrupted softly. "Five more minutes isn't going to hurt anyone, is it?"

Harry felt his lips tilt up, and he nodded, slipping his hand into his dad's. He might be a teenager now, but he still needed his dad sometimes.

He was okay with that.

…

"I'll work on getting you in front of the Wizengamot," Lucius said, running a hand through his hair. "With Veritaserum, it's an open and shut case."

Black arched an eyebrow. "Why are you doing this?"

"Harry, of course," Lucius replied, shrugging. "You could rot for me, Black, I've never thought of you fondly—but you're his godfather, and if he wants you in his life, then he deserves that."

"Why would you care about Harry?" Black asked.

Lucius tilted his head slightly. "Let's get past the truth serum, shall we? Maybe after that, I'll think about answering your questions."

…

"So Pettigrew was living with the Weasleys as a rat for all these years?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose. "Gross!"

Severus chuckled, but nodded. "Quite. Regardless, as soon as he heard the Aurors asking about him, he snuck away and ran, the little coward."

"But Mr Black is free?"

Severus nodded.

"He's not… I know he's my godfather, but he doesn't have a claim on me, does he?" Harry asked, biting at his bottom lip worriedly.

Severus shook his head. "He only has a claim if you want him to have it. Lucius has invited him over for afternoon tea tomorrow. We can sit and talk with him then. We're going to have him swear an oath of secrecy, Harry. Even if he doesn't like something, he won't be able to tell anyone anything."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I have to be there for that, right?"

"You don't have to do anything," Severus replied softly. "If you don't want him in your life, Harry, that's your right. And you don't have to make any decisions until you're ready. You hear me?"

"I hear you," Harry agreed with a small smile. "I'll come after the oath? I don't want to have to pretend anything in front of him."

Severus reached out to ruffle Harry's hair. "Whatever you want, kid. Wanna come help me brew a potion to turn Lucius' hair pink?"

Harry grinned and nodded eagerly, following his dad to the potions lab.

…

"Where's Harry?"

"He'll be joining us shortly," Lucius replied. "First, I'll have your wizard's oath that everything we tell you will remain in this room, and that you won't run off to tell anyone else."

Sirius arched his eyebrow. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll have you ejected from the Manor and you won't get near Harry until he's seventeen and can make his own decisions," Lucius replied flatly. "It's up to you, Black, but do make a decision. Time's-a-wastin."

Sirius stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. Severus gave him a slip of parchment with the oath on and he read it aloud. A flash of acceptance from Magic herself, and Sirius sat back in his seat.

"What's so bad that you needed a secrecy oath? What's happened to my godson?"

Severus murmured for Hippy to collect Harry, and then sighed. "When you were arrested, Dumbledore placed Harry with the Dursleys."

Sirius frowned for a moment and then blinked, his eyes widening as realisation sunk in. "Petunia? Lily's sister?"

Severus nodded. "I was told about it when Harry was almost four, and I couldn't believe that Dumbledore would leave him there, so I went to have a look for myself. He… they…" Severus shook his head. "I kidnapped him."

Lucius snorted.

Sirius blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I kidnapped him. Put a false memory of a stranger taking him in Petunia's mind, and I ran with him. He's been my son ever since. Albus doesn't know I have him, and it will remain that way, Black."

"How?" Sirius asked. "How does Albus not know?"

"His name hasn't changed. We make sure to be anywhere but at home when the letters written by the Registration Book are done. Harry only ever talks about Hippy, our elf, when he's at Hogwarts, and he technically spends Christmas and Easter with the Malfoys."

"Sneaky bastards," Sirius said, shaking his head. Severus noticed that he didn't seem particularly put out by the 'sneaky', though.

A knock sounded on the door, and Lucius called for Harry to enter.

"Hey, Gremlin," he murmured when Harry stepped inside, glancing nervously at Sirius. "Come sit," he added, patting the top of the beanbag he'd purposefully placed beside himself.

Severus understood his reasoning; if it came to blows between Severus and Sirius, he wanted Harry out of the crossfire. It didn't soothe Severus' need to have his son close by, though, the anxiety of having Sirius in Harry's life making itself known.

"Hi, Harry," Sirius said, when Harry had curled up in the beanbag. "I'm Sirius."

"I know," Harry replied, tilting his head. "Are you here to try and take me away from my dad?"

Sirius froze for a minute, glancing at Severus. Eventually, he said, "I'm not trying to do anything you don't want me to do, Harry. I'd like to be as much a part of your life as you'll let me be."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay."

"So, why don't you tell me what you like doing, hmm?"

Severus sat back a little and watched Harry and Sirius talk. It was stilted at first, but with Lucius facilitating, it eased a little. Especially when Lucius got Harry onto the subject of books.

To Black's credit, he didn't seem disappointed that Harry hadn't followed in James' footsteps with Quidditch and pranking, and when he left, it was with a promise to write to Harry to arrange another meeting over the summer.

Harry seemed happy enough with the meeting, and Severus was happy that Harry was happy. In the end, that was all that really mattered.

…

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" Harry asked for the third time, standing in front of the fire. "What if—"

"Harry, if you want to come home at any time, call for Hippy. She'll fetch you home immediately. If you need me, Hippy will bring me to you, I promise. Okay?"

Harry wrinkled his nose, but he eventually nodded, reaching out to hug Severus.

"Love you, Dad."

"I love you too, son," Severus replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Now, off you go. You'll have fun. And just think, the Black library might have some fun books that we don't have."

Harry chuckled. "Kay." He stepped through the fireplace, calling out for Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Severus watched him go, and then ran a hand through his hair.

Time to go and blow up some cauldrons. That was the only way he was going to get through the weekend until Harry got home.

…

It was strange, being in a house that wasn't his own or Malfoy Manor. Harry felt out of place in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. Malfoy Manor was as much a home to him as Prince Manor was, and Spinner's End before it, so to be at Sirius' home was a little odd.

He perched on the edge of the sofa, wrinkling his nose at the dust. The 'home' didn't feel lived in. It felt… old. A little grimy.

Harry tried to remind himself that Sirius had spent a long time in prison, and home care probably wasn't his first priority right now, but… he wanted to go home.

And Sirius was clearly feeling just as awkward as Harry was. He'd greeted him jovially when Harry had stepped through the fireplace, and the first few minutes of small talk had been easy enough, but once that dried up, they were both left looking at each other, shifting uncomfortably as they searched for 'safe' conversations.

"So, are you looking forward to your next year at Hogwarts?" Sirius asked eventually, sitting back in his armchair.

Harry nodded, and then realised that for it to get less awkward, he actually had to make an effort.

"I guess. I'm looking forward to my new classes. Draco and I are taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Sirius smiled slightly. "Your dad took Arithmancy because he heard that your mum was taking it. Even at that age, he was mildly infatuated with her."

Harry chuckled. "What else did they take?"

"Your mum took Ancient Runes like you, and your dad took Care of Magical Creatures with me."

"Is Runes hard? Dad, I mean, uh—"

"He raised you, Harry. I don't mind you calling Sn—Severus 'Dad', kiddo."

Harry nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. "Kay. He, uh, told me that Runes is hard, one of the hardest classes at Hogwarts."

"I didn't take it," Sirius admitted. "But I think I remember your mum saying that it was hard but worth it. She was a bookworm, like you."

Harry grinned.

"You wanna take a look around the house with me?" Sirius offered. "You can pick your own room for when you come to stay, and maybe help me decide what to do with some of the others? This house needs lots of work."

Harry followed Sirius around the house, commenting here and there when asked for his opinion. The only time he really became interested was when they stepped into the library on the first floor.

Sirius let him look around for five minutes before dragging him out, promising they could return later.

Except, an innocuous looking dresser stole the library's thunder, because Harry was getting that feeling again. The one he'd felt when he took the diary from the Weasley girl.

He glanced over it, trying not to get Sirius' attention as they looked around. "I think I like this room," he said, just before they could leave. "For a bedroom, I mean. It's near the library, after all."

Sirius snorted, but shrugged. "Sure kiddo, whatever you want. Come on, I'll show you around the rest of the house and then we'll go and get ice cream, hmm?"

"Kay."

…

The locket was carefully put in the bottom of his bag. The feeling was a tiny bit different from the diary, but just as welcoming to Harry. It almost felt protective in a way.

Harry wasn't sure if he liked it, or if he should even be collecting these items that felt so odd, but he really couldn't suppress the feeling they were his. They felt like him.

The weekend passed by in a blink after the first night, and Harry found that he enjoyed being with Sirius in the same way he enjoyed talking to some of the other boys in his school year.

It was jovial and fun, but distant. Like the kind of friend that you only really talked to when you saw them, not someone that you specifically sought out. He wasn't sure if that would change—part of him hoped it did, it was nice to have a connection to his birth parents—but he wasn't sure if it would.

Harry wasn't sure what was coming, but something was, and he had a feeling that Sirius would be on the opposite side of it, whatever 'it' was.

Still, Harry accepted the hug from his godfather before he Flooed home, and a part of him—an admittedly small part—felt bad about leaving the man alone in the sprawling house.

But, he figured, Sirius must have friends, right? He must have people that he could be around while he figured himself and his life out. Everyone needed that.

…

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Lucius asked, when Severus stormed through the manor three days before the beginning of term.

"Remus sodding Lupin is the new Defence teacher," Severus snarled. "It's like Dumbledore is trying to make me lose my fucking mind!"

Lucius snorted. "I'm actually sure that it's just the lack of interest in the job, what with the curse and all. Anybody with any intelligence wouldn't go anywhere near that job, Severus."

Severus rolled his eyes, but shook his head. "Being around Black for Harry's sake is one thing, but being around Lupin for extended periods of time… this year is going to be hell."

"Well, look at the bright side," Lucius said, shrugging his shoulders. "At least you know he'll be gone in a year."

Glaring, Severus shook his head. "That isn't comforting now, Lucius."

Lucius shrugged. "That's all I got."

…

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf."

Severus blinked and then turned to look at Harry. "How did you figure it out?"

Harry snorted. "He's always off on the full moon and quiet for days after. And well, I mean, I read the whole Defence book. And you're brewing Wolfsbane."

Severus shook his head. "I don't know why anyone ever tries to keep anything from you, Harry. Yes, Lupin is a werewolf."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Kay."

"He's… not safe," Severus hedged, "but there are precautions in place. You don't have to worry about him being out of control."

"I know. If it was up to Dumbledore, I'd be worried, but I know you'll make sure he takes your potion."

Severus smiled and nodded. "I will."

"Alright, I should go finish my homework," Harry said, leaving the office with a distracted wave. Severus watched him go and shook his head. Sometimes, his kid was too smart for his own good.

…

"Another one bites the dust," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Draco snorted, sitting across from him. They'd actually managed to get a compartment on the train to themselves for a change, so Draco was spread across the two seats, his feet on the one beside him.

On the table between them were their summer Defence Against the Dark Arts essays.

"Why do we even bother doing these?" Draco grumbled. "The teachers never last long enough to grade them anyway."

"It gives the next one something to work with, I guess?" Harry suggested, though he scrunched his nose, because he didn't really believe what he was saying. The teacher would have to be competent for that, and really, Lupin had been their most competent yet.

He wasn't holding out much hope for next year.

"I still don't understand why you're making me work now," Draco added, pointing at Harry accusingly with the point of his quill. "We have the whole summer to do these essays."

"Oh, so you'd rather be writing about Dementors and Inferi instead of playing a Seekers' game with me? I see how it is."

Draco glared and then huffed. "I hate you, Potter."

"I hate you too. Also that last paragraph you wrote is wrong. So. Probably change it."

There was a pause, and then, "Really, really hate you."

…

"We knew it was coming," Severus said, handing the letter back to Lucius with a heavy sigh. "I had hope that it would be a little while longer, but…"

"Severus—"

"Only for Harry's sake," Severus clarified. "He's thirteen, Lucius, barely a teenager. This is going to be a lot for him to handle, and I dread to think what will happen if the Dark Lord dismisses what we have to say about the Horcrux."

"The ritual is an old one," Lucius said, glancing down at the letter. "Can you brew the potion?"

"Of course I can," Severus replied. "Though it will take a while. I believe it needs six full moons to be at its most potent."

Lucius winced. "Well, if that's what it takes, it's what it takes. I'll write back to Barty and let him know you're willing to make the potion."

"I might have an addition that will make the Dark Lord stronger," Severus said. "Let him know that we'll write to him over Christmas, it's only a week away. I need… to talk to Harry."

"What addition?"

"This ritual, I remember it. The Dark Lord will want Harry's blood, but it's 'blood of the enemy, forcibly taken'. If it's changed to willingly offered, then the Dark Lord will be stronger because of it. Not only that, but… I'm not particularly interested in anything being 'forcibly taken' from my son."

Lucius sighed. "I know you don't like putting so much on his shoulders, Severus, but—"

"You don't like it either. It is what it is."

Lucius nodded. "Truer words have never been spoken."

…

"I don't understand," Harry admitted, frowning between Severus and Lucius. "If I willingly give him my blood, he can be stronger. Do we want him to be stronger?"

"As of right now, I believe we do," Severus replied. "Unfortunately, son, I can't predict the future, but I believe that the fact that you're his Horcrux will protect you. He won't harm you for fear of damaging his soul."

Harry sighed. "Do you want me to do this, Dad? Because I'll do it willingly… for you. But not for him. I don't know him. The only contact I've ever had with him was when he tried to kill me."

"I know, son. And if you don't want to do this, I'll back you the whole way," Severus promised softly. "But… the Dark Lord has clear ideas on the Wizarding World, and he isn't wrong about many of them."

"I know. I do know that, Dad, and I'm not trying to be difficult but—"

"You be as difficult as you want, Gremlin," Lucius interrupted softly. "You're a teenager, it's your time to be difficult."

Harry snorted, but quickly sobered.

"What is it, Harry?"

"What if he… what if he thinks he owns me, because I'm his Horcrux? I'm not a… a thing. I don't want to be owned."

"Then you'll just have to set him straight," Lucius replied with a smirk. "After all, if he can't hurt you, then he'll have to allow for you to have your own opinions, no?"

"You really think he'll listen to me?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"I think that stranger things have happened," Lucius replied. "And I think that you're capable of anything you put your mind to, Gremlin."

"So, uh. How do I… how do I give him the blood?"

"When the potion is ready—which it will be during the summer—I'll take a few vials of blood from your arm," Severus said, stroking a hand through Harry's hair. "It won't hurt, I promise."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I'm, uh, gonna go and see if Draco wants to go flying."

Severus nodded, watching Harry scamper off, and he sighed. "I just wanted him to have a good childhood. It's all slipping away."

"Severus," Lucius reprimanded gently. "He's having a good childhood. The few times a year that we have to deal with some… unpleasantness don't change that you've given him a life without fear of abuse. That means a hell of a lot; don't diminish that."

…

It was incredible to feel the power emanating from the man they'd both followed for so long once again. It had been a surprise when the man stepped from the cauldron, naked as the day he was born, but looking far more human than he had before he died.

He looked… well, he was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Gone were the snake-like features that had often struck terror into his victims before he'd even lifted his wand to attack. Only the red eyes remained to set him apart from any other man—at least in appearance.

The graveyard was almost empty but for the three of them, and Peter, sobbing on the ground after giving up his hand for their Lord. Barty was elsewhere, doing only the Dark Lord knew what.

Severus didn't overly care. He'd never been particularly fond of Barty Crouch Jr; he'd always found the younger man to be whiny.

"My Lord," Severus murmured, bowing deeply when Voldemort stepped in front of him, freshly robed, his red eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness of dusk. He heard Lucius echo him at his side, and they both held their breath for a long moment.

"Rise."

They stood together, shoulder to shoulder as they waited for the Dark Lord to speak, neither knowing if it would be good or bad.

"Tell me about the boy."

Severus swallowed hard and did as he was told. He spoke of kidnapping—rescuing—Harry from the Dursleys and raising him, and of what the Goblins had realised about Harry being the Dark Lord's Horcrux. He told of Harry's eagerness to learn, his intelligence and forethought, and that he was open to the Dark Lord's mission.

"My Horcrux," the Dark Lord murmured. "How… intriguing. I wonder how much of an effect my soul had on his personality."

Severus thought about mentioning Harry's ability to speak to snakes, but thought better of it. Until he knew the Dark Lord's intentions for his son, the less he knew, the better.

"I want to meet the boy," Voldemort added. "Though perhaps not quite yet. He's fourteen?"

"Almost, My Lord," Severus replied. "His birthday is in just a few weeks."

"Perhaps it will be better to wait to meet him," Voldemort replied. "I cannot imagine he is eager to see me again, and fourteen is such a… prickly age."

Lucius snorted and tried to cover it with a cough, but the Dark Lord merely chuckled darkly.

"We have much to do in the meantime. I'll be in touch, Lucius, Severus. For now, you may go."

"Thank you, My Lord," they replied, before apparating back to the Manor together, to find their boys.

"I can't believe he's back," Lucius murmured, as they walked up the sweeping path.

"One thing is for certain," Severus replied. "Everything is going to change now."

…

Harry snorted as he read the morning paper.

"What has you so amused, son?" Severus asked, as he flipped the last of the pancakes he was making onto a plate.

"Lord Slytherin," Harry replied, pointing to the front page. "Did you know he was going to do that?"

Severus nodded. "He alerted Lucius and me to his plans a few weeks ago. I, admittedly, didn't realise he was going ahead with the plan so soon."

"Didn't Dumbledore know him when he was young?" Harry asked, frowning. "Surely he'll realise who he is?"

Laughing, Severus nodded. "He likely will, Harry. Proving it, on the other hand, will be nigh on impossible. The Dark Lord does love to play games with the old goat; he's just playing on a different battlefield now."

"Less bloody," Harry supposed.

"Lucius would tell you differently," Severus replied. "Eat your pancakes. Hippy will be taking you to the platform shortly, and I need to show my face at school."

Harry nodded and tucked into his food. If the Dark Lord was planning to play politics, hopefully that meant that Harry would be able to stay under the radar—at least for a while longer.

…

"I think it's bloody rude that they've put an age limit on it," Draco griped as he and Harry walked towards the Great Hall. "Either of us would have been a shoo-in if that age line wasn't there."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm quite happy not being murdered, thanks. You know people have died in the tournament, right?"

Draco shrugged. "Only if they couldn't handle the tasks."

"We're fourteen," Harry pointed out. "How able do you suppose we would be?"

Draco blinked at him. "Harry, we could both pass our N.E. right now! It's not like you give me any choice but to study ahead, the amount of time you make me spend in the library. Really, it's quite unhealthy."

"Ah, the sacrifices you make for me," Harry said dryly. "It warms my heart, it really does."

"You're a jerk."

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Probably."

…

"A bloody Hufflepuff champion," Draco said, throwing his hands up in the air, a look of disgust on his face. "I've never been so embarrassed for the school."

Harry laughed; he couldn't help himself. "In fairness, I was expecting a Gryffindor," he admitted. "You know, given how superior they are."

Draco stared at him. "I am betrayed by my own brother. How dare you."

Hitting Draco with a pillow, Harry nodded at the three Slytherin seventh years that had entered their names, all sulking in the corner of the common room. "You didn't expect any of them to get it, did you? Hell, Flint is barely a step up on the intelligence ladder from a Troll."

Draco considered for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, you have a point. But you could have at least said Ravenclaw, Harry. Really!"

"… Okay, my bad."
…

"No, thank you," Harry said, for what felt like the hundredth time, this time to a third year Ravenclaw, who looked so betrayed at the rejection that Draco actually laughed.

"I don't even want to go to the stupid ball," Harry complained, shaking his head as she ran off. "Why can't I just spend the evening in the library? Or better yet, go home for the holiday?"

Draco sighed. "Everyone is staying, Harry. Besides, our fathers are busy, so we have little choice. Why don't we just go together?"

"Draco Malfoy, are you asking me on a date?"

Draco fluttered his eyelashes and bowed to Harry, before he took his hand. "Will you do me the honour of being my date, Harry?"

"You're an asshole," Harry said, shaking his head. "But also, yes. If only to see the looks on people's faces when we walk in together."

Draco grinned. "I knew there was a reason I liked you that made up for the copious amount of hours spent studying."

"Keep telling yourself that, Dray."

…

"I have some rather grave news, Severus," Dumbledore said, as the two settled in his office for tea.

"Oh?"

"You've seen the news, of course, of a Lord Slytherin that is sweeping the political circuit at the moment?"

"Of course," Severus agreed. "It's been all over the Prophet. I must admit, it's nice to see the Slytherin name getting some good publicity for a change."

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, Lord Slytherin is actually Tom Riddle, though he's added the Gaunt name to his collection now as well."

Severus frowned. "You'll have to excuse my ignorance, Headmaster. Should that name mean something to me?"

"It wouldn't, I imagine," Dumbledore replied with a tired smile as he shook his head. "Tom Riddle was—is—better known by another moniker. Lord Voldemort."

Severus choked on his tea—and applauded himself for his acting skills in his head—spluttering for a moment. "You're saying that Lord Slytherin is the Dark Lord in disguise?"

"Quite so, unfortunately. I've tried to find out more information as to where he's been and how his return came about, but to no avail. I wondered if perhaps there had been a change to your Mark?"

Severus shook his head and lifted his sleeve to show the still faded Mark on his arm. It had been the quick thinking of Lucius that had had them writing to the Dark Lord over the summer to fix Severus' darkened Mark in time for his return to school, knowing Dumbledore would eventually ask to see it.

Dumbledore frowned.

"I'd have told you of any changes immediately, Albus," Severus said, injecting his tone with a mild amount of hurt.

"Oh, I know that, Severus. I just… I wonder if I'm getting too old for this."

Severus wisely didn't reply.

…

"Ugh, the Puffs are going to be unbearable," Draco complained as they walked away from the Quidditch Stands where they'd been watching the final task of the Tournament.

Well. They were staring at the outer edges of a maze. Harry really didn't think the tasks had been thought out from a viewer's perspective. For the second task they'd been looking at the lake for an hour, and now this time, hedges.

Not the most exciting entertainment in the world.

Regardless of the lack of entertainment, Cedric had won the cup—much to the surprise of most people, given his rather pitiful performance in the first task.

"Hey, school pride and all that crap," Harry pointed out, wrapping his green and silver scarf tighter around his neck. "At least Krum didn't win. He was the worst, forever hanging around the library trying to get into Granger's knickers. Creep."

Draco snorted. "You were only irritated because his fanclub was interrupting your studying."

"True," Harry agreed. "I can't wait until the school is back to normal again, honestly."

"Uh huh. Fifth year next. OWLs. Yay, fun," Draco drawled.

"One year closer to being done with the place," Harry muttered in response, and Draco nodded.

"Fair."

…

The beach wasn't as fun as Harry would have expected; though that could be because the people he considered his family weren't there with him.

The headmaster had decided that Harry's dad was his to do with as he pleased, given that he had no knowledge of his home life. Instead of spending the summer at home and with the Malfoys, Harry was on holiday with Sirius.

Not that he disliked Sirius—quite the opposite, he liked Sirius just fine.

For a day. Or a weekend.

Not three weeks and counting.

Harry wanted to go flying with Draco. He wanted to go shopping in Diagon Alley with Aunt Narcissa. He wanted to argue over a book with his Uncle Lucius.

More than any of that, Harry wanted to spend time with his dad without worrying that someone would see them.

"You okay, kiddo?" Sirius asked, joining Harry on the beach. He flopped down on the beach towel beside Harry, sunglasses covering his eyes, bright yellow and orange swimming shorts blinding.

He looked better than he had since Harry had first met him, and Harry was happy for him. He really was.

"Just missing home, I guess," he replied, digging into the sand with his fingers.

"Ah," Sirius murmured. "Well, I have good news on that front. Lucius sent word that you'll be able to go home on Monday."

Harry brightened up. "Really?"

"Really, kid. So, what say we enjoy the rest of the weekend since it's probably the last I'll see of you before you go back to school, hmm?"

Harry nodded, and then wrinkled his nose. "Sorry I've been grumpy the last few days. It's, uh, the longest I've spent away from my dad, ever. Guess it makes me a bit… antsy."

"You're fine, Harry. Now, there's a Muggle theme park down the road, and it looks like a whole bunch of fun. Shall we go and play?"

"Are you going to vomit on the rides?" Harry asked, pushing himself to his feet. "Because if you are, I'm not sitting with you."

Sirius snorted. "I have the stomach of a hippogriff, thank you very much."

Harry arched his eyebrow. "Uh huh. We'll see."

(Sirius vomited on the fifth ride, and Harry wasn't even mad, he laughed so much.)

…

"I wanted to talk to you before we left," Sirius said, holding out a hand to halt Harry as they approached the Spanish Ministry of Magic to catch their portkey back to England.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked. He was eager to return home, but figured that a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Everything is fine," Sirius assured him, pulling a small box from his pocket. "Harry, change is coming, and… I don't know where that change is going to lead any of us, you know? I can't fight for the dark, I've known that since I was younger than you are now, but… I don't believe I can fight against you."

"You're so sure that I'll be on the 'dark' side?" Harry asked, a little derisively. He wasn't particularly fond of the terms 'light' and 'dark' for the opposing sides of what was sure to be a coming battle.

"I don't know," Sirius replied, and he sounded so genuine that Harry believed him. "What I do know is that you're the closest I'm ever going to have to a son."

He handed the small black box over to Harry who took it curiously, flipping open the lid to see a Heir ring, much like the two already on his fingers, albeit one of them was hidden.

"You're making me your Heir?"

"You're already my Heir, Harry, you have been since shortly after you were born. I guess I just thought you should know. It's up to you if you wear the ring, of course, but it's yours by right and it offers some protection against specific curses. It… well, it might come in handy."

"I… thank you," Harry said, unsure what else he could say. He slipped the ring onto his right hand and waited a moment for it to resize. When Sirius let out a sigh of relief, Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. "You weren't sure if it would accept me, were you?"

Sirius shrugged. "You're a half-blood. While that doesn't matter to me in the slightest, my family…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"I know. The Blacks have always been pureblooded. I've read the genealogy books."

"Of course you have," Sirius said, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. "Well, come on then, let's get you home to the bat cave."

Harry snorted, but as they walked into the Spanish Ministry, he said, "Sirius? Thank you. Even if—"

"I gotcha, kid. Doesn't matter where we end up in the world, you're my godson, and I'm proud of you."

…

"Hey, Dad," Harry greeted when Severus joined them in the Malfoy library, a week before term was due to start. Harry was reading through the next year's books, while Draco finished up his summer homework at his mother's behest.

Harry had seen his dad a few times since he'd returned to England, but not nearly as often as he would have liked.

"Harry," Severus replied with a small smile. He looked over Harry's shoulder at the book he was reading, and then glanced at Draco, who was grumbling over his Charms essay. "You want to get out of here? I have the next few days free, short of Dumbledore having an aneurysm."

"Let him have one," Harry muttered. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you want. I'm at your disposal, son."

Harry grinned. "Can we go to the zoo? I want to visit the snakes."

Severus sighed. "Of course that's where you want to go. You know, most fifteen year olds wouldn't be caught dead at the zoo?"

Harry stood up and smirked at his dad. "Most fifteen year olds can't freak everyone out by making the snakes dance simultaneously, can they?"

Draco perked his head up. "Can I come? That sounds epic."

Severus glanced at the stack of homework the blond still had to do and sighed. "Let's go. Quickly, before Narcissa finds me and hexes me."

…

"At least he's competent," Harry muttered to Draco as the two left their first Defence class of the year. "We might actually be able to pass our OWLs."

"Like we wouldn't anyway," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "Besides, Shacklebolt's an Auror. If he wasn't at least competent, he'd be dead."

"Eh," Harry shrugged. "With Fudge in charge, I reckon that's still hit or miss."

Laughing, they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Did you hear about Lord Slytherin?" Theo asked, practically as soon as their bums had hit the bench.

Harry arched his eyebrow, showing interest as he filled his plate from the nearby trays.

"He's petitioning for a complete overhaul of Hogwarts. As the heir, it's his right to see the school reaching its potential, and he doesn't think it currently is."

"Well, he's not wrong," Draco agreed sagely. "What with Binns and the ever changing Defence professors, not to mention the blatant favouritism from the headmaster towards the Gryffindorks."

"They're talking about sending an inspector to check over the school sometime in the next few months. I'm surprised they're listening to him, honestly," Theo said. "Someone so new to the political scene isn't usually given any attention."

"His name speaks for him," Harry pointed out. "He's from one of the Founders' lines, of course people are falling all over themselves to be in favour with him. He's got one of the most powerful claims in the British Wizarding World."

"He's a half-blood," Pansy sneered from beside Theo.

Harry looked up and glared at her. "So?"

She glared back. "Purebloods would never pander to a half-blood, no matter their name, Potter."

Harry tilted his head. "Why not? Surely it's about the power of the individual, not the name. And do remember, Parkinson, that while you're barely scraping by in the majority of your classes, I'm sitting pretty at the top."

"Look, Potter—"

"Watch your words, Pansy dear," Draco reprimanded placidly, though the glint in his eyes was plain to see. "Given that Harry here is my best friend and my father is quite fond of him. It wouldn't be good for your father if mine were too, ah, lose favour with him, would it?"

Pansy paled and sank back in her seat, apologising quietly to Harry.

Harry paid her no mind; he'd been dealing with her and those that thought the same way she did since starting at Hogwarts. For the most part, as he'd proven himself magically talented, the sneers and jeers had faded out—but there would always be those that thought themselves above him, simply because of their blood.

It was ridiculous, in Harry's opinion, but not something he could change on his own, and certainly not yet.

Perhaps in time.

It was good that his dad had taught him to aim high, after all.

…

Harry couldn't concentrate. While Madam Pince usually kept a tight control on the noise in the library, the oncoming hysteria with the approach of the OWLs had made his classmates unbearable.

Even in the quiet he could hear them hissing questions at each other, and see the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs throwing balls of parchment from table to table. It was infuriating.

"Hippy," he murmured, calling his elf to his side.

When she arrived, the noise drew the attention of a few others, but Harry quickly cast a privacy charm around them. "Do you know anywhere in the castle that I can get some studying done in private?"

She shook her head, and then perked up. "I's ask the Hogwarts Elves, Master Harry."

"Thank you, Hippy."

She disappeared, and he continued reading his book, glaring at anyone that dared interrupt him—but he was still grateful when she returned quickly, only fifteen minutes later.

"There be a room, Sir, the room of hidden things, on the seventh floor. Master Harry can study alone there, Sir."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank you, Hippy. How do I find it?"

…

The room Harry had asked for was wonderful. It was almost a perfect replica of the library at Prince Manor, and Harry had spent almost four hours in perfect, blissful peace.

He knew he'd have to share the room with Draco, but just for one night it was his. As he was leaving, he pondered what Hippy had told him. The room of hidden things. But Harry hadn't seen any hidden things.

He glanced at the once again blank wall and frowned. Walking back and forth three times, he thought hard, I want to see the room with all the hidden things.

Sure enough, when he opened the door, it was to a room stacked with things left and right, mountains of books, clothes, an odd looking crown—

Harry looked again at the crown and frowned. And then he felt it.

Like the diary and the locket necklace before, it had a strange sensation emanating from it. Harry approached it carefully, reaching out to snag it carefully in his hands. It felt stronger than the others, more… alive, even as he felt a feeling of mine rush through him.

Leaving—with a plan to return and look a little more closely at the books—Harry cradled the crown-like object in his book bag carefully to be added to his growing collection in his trunk.

There was something connecting them to him, and it felt like it was on the periphery of his brain, just waiting for him to have an epiphany of what they were.

He knew he'd figure it out eventually. He just had to reach out and take the answer.

…

"The Dark Lord will be here this evening, Harry. He's expressed an interest in meeting you."

Harry glanced up at his dad and arched his eyebrow. They were getting prepared for the Malfoys' Christmas Eve ball together, as had become something of a tradition for them over the years. "He'll be here as Lord Slytherin, I presume, and not the Dark Lord."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Impertinent brat. Of course as Lord Slytherin."

Harry snorted. "Of course. I'm not sure I want to meet him, Dad."

"He'll seek you out by the end of the evening, son. I don't think you have much of a choice in the matter. He wants to know his Horcrux."

"I'm just housing his soul piece, Dad. I'm not his."

"You'll do well to watch your tongue with him, Harry," Severus warned. "He's not likely to give you half as much leeway as Lucius or I. Just… present yourself as I know you can. Prove to him that you're worthy to be noted."

Harry glared at his dad. "I don't have to prove anything to him."

"Harry—"

Shaking his head, Harry stomped away from his dad's room and walked down the hall to his own, locking the door behind him with a careless wave of his wand. Why was his dad so eager for him to prove anything to Lord Slytherin?

Sure, Harry understood that to get by in life, one had to have ambition, and Harry proved himself every day in that regard. Why wasn't that enough?

All thoughts of the ball leaving his mind, Harry slumped down onto his bed, no longer looking forward to the evening as he had been.

His robes were wrinkled where he'd slumped down without a care and he sighed as he looked at them. He could magic them back into their pristine condition, of course, but…

He didn't really want to, now.

The book on his bedside table called to him, and he pondered for just a moment what would happen if he just curled up on the bed and finished it instead of attending the ball downstairs.

His father would be angry with him, but then, he probably already was. He hated it when Harry stormed away from him, the few times that it had happened, and Harry hadn't exactly been respectful either, had he?

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up after spending almost twenty minutes getting it perfect. There really hadn't been a reason to be mad with his dad; Harry knew how much the man worried about him.

How much he'd been worrying about Harry's first meeting with the Dark Lord.

Grumbling under his breath about his own tendency to be an idiot, Harry climbed off the bed and set about his preparations again. It wouldn't do to look anything less than his best if he was going to make it up to his father, would it?

…

The Christmas ball was in full swing by the time Harry finally made it downstairs. He'd 'sorted his face out' as Draco would say, and his robes were pristine, and he had not a hair out of place.

Despite his earlier irritation, he really couldn't show his dad up by being anything less than perfect in public. Across the room, he could see his dad talking to Uncle Lucius, but he paid them no mind.

He could talk to his dad later, when they'd both had a chance to cool down a little.

Instead, Harry walked over to the opposite end of the ballroom to where Draco, Blaise and Theo were propping up the wall as they had a spirited discussion about the last quidditch match that Hogwarts had hosted just before the break.

Harry didn't understand why they were still talking about it, honestly. Who cared what happened between the Lions and Hufflepuff?

"There you are!" Draco exclaimed when he caught sight of Harry approaching. "I thought you'd decided to abandon us for the night!"

"Actually, he thought you'd gotten lost inside another book and forgotten that it was Christmas Eve," Theo pointed out snidely, making Harry laugh.

"I was speaking with my father," Harry said softly. "And lost track of time while I was getting ready. Even I'm not stupid enough to start reading on the night of the ball, less Aunt Narcissa hex me."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," Blaise said, his eyebrow arching with interest.

Draco opened his mouth to tell the story of what Narcissa had done to Harry the one and only time he'd gotten lost in a book when he was supposed to be at an event of hers, but Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, with a deceptively innocent tone.

Draco closed his mouth. Theo and Blaise both laughed, Theo shaking his head.

"The blackmail material you have on each other is ridiculous. One day, you're going to start spewing all the stories and it will be a beautiful thing."

Draco shook his head. "We'll never talk."

Harry's lips tilted up. "Quite right, Draco."

"Ah, Harry, Draco," came a feminine tone, and both boys turned to see Narcissa behind them.

"Aunt Narcissa," Harry greeted with a small smile. "You look exquisite as always."

"Such a charmer, Harry," she replied with a smile. "Lucius wants the two of you to join him. There's someone you should meet."

She met Harry's eyes, and he knew immediately that he was about to be introduced to the Dark Lord.

Or Lord Slytherin, at the very least.

He swallowed hard but nodded, falling into step with Draco as they followed her across the hall.

Lucius smiled at them when they arrived in front of him, and then turned to the man standing beside him.

"Lord Slytherin, this is my son, Draco, and Severus' boy, Harry. Boys, this is Lord Slytherin."

Harry and Draco bowed in sync, their upbringing shining through, and when Lord Slytherin lifted Harry's hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against his knuckles, Harry managed not to flinch away.

He was intrigued by the Dark Lord, that much was certain, but he was wary too. This was the man who'd killed his birth parents, after all.

This was the man that had left a piece of soul attached to Harry's own when he'd tried to kill him as a baby.

There was intrigue, but there was fear, and Harry wasn't ashamed to admit as much.

And yet… he housed a part of this man's soul. And in that moment, when lips brushed the back of Harry's hand, Harry realised why the diary, and the locket, and the crown had called to him.

Harry wasn't the only Horcrux.

"A pleasure," Lord Slytherin murmured, his eyes flashing subtly for just a moment as they met Harry's.

He shook Draco's hand—and Harry noted the difference, but said nothing—and asked after their studies, making conversation about the school as though they had no idea who this man was.

Harry responded on autopilot, mind still going over the thought that he had, technically, four pieces of this man's soul in his possession. When Lord Slytherin was pulled away to talk to other guests, Harry found himself beside his father in only seconds.

"Are you okay?" his dad asked, tone low and concerned.

"Fine," Harry replied, and then blinked away the haze of his thoughts. "I'm fine, Dad, promise. And I'm sorry about earlier. I was being a brat."

Severus smiled at him. "But you're my brat. Go on with Draco and sit with your friends, you should be free for the rest of the evening."

Harry nodded. "Kay. I'll come see you before I go to bed."

…

Harry slipped out of the ballroom as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so, and found himself in the Malfoy library. It wasn't a big surprise; he'd spent so much time there over the years that it was the place he was the most comfortable.

He didn't bother to pick out a book, knowing he wouldn't be able to concentrate on one, and instead simply curled up in his favourite armchair by the fire, his eyes on the flickering flames.

He knew that eventually, Draco, Uncle Lucius or his dad would find him there, but for just a moment, it was nice to be alone.

He continued to ponder the existence of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes. It made sense, Harry supposed. The Dark Lord must have split his soul previous to trying to kill Harry, or the killing curse would have simply killed the Dark Lord upon the rebound.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how many the man had. If Harry had already found three, how many more were out there?

A noise sounded behind him, and Harry looked over the top of the chair to see Lord Slytherin closing the door to the library behind him. He approached Harry with slow, measured steps, and folded himself elegantly into the chair facing him.

Harry swallowed hard, but forced himself to meet the man's eyes.

"Harry," the Dark Lord murmured. "What are you doing, hiding away in here instead of having fun with your friends?"

Harry tilted his head. "My idea of fun doesn't really include balls, unfortunately. This is my natural habitat." He gestured to the library around them.

"You like to read?"

"I do."

"What books do you like?"

"Any," Harry admitted. "All of them. I like to learn; I like to discover new things."

"I was the same in my youth," Lord Slytherin admitted with a small smile. "I remember the first time I saw Hogwarts library. I confess, I thought I had died and gone to heaven."

Harry's lips tilted up involuntarily. "I felt like that the first time I came here."

"And school? What is your favourite class? You never told me when we discussed it earlier."

"I like them all," Harry admitted. "Apart from History of Magic, though I fear that's more the teacher than the subject. There's only so long that you can listen to a ghost drone about Goblin Wars before even someone as studious as I gets bored."

"Quite right. Binns will be the first to go, when the inspection of Hogwarts is complete."

"Why did you decide to improve the school?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Why not?" Lord Slytherin replied. "It is my right as an Heir, is it not?"

"I suppose."

"Besides, when my inspectors recommend the injection of new blood into the castle, it can only work to my benefit if people of my choosing are implemented."

Harry nodded, finally understanding the reason for the inspection. It had little to do with the school, and everything to do with getting a foothold in the castle and weakening Dumbledore's position.

Genius, really, to do it through legal means.

"Of course the little Gremlin is in here, Severus," came Lucius' voice as the door opened. "Where else would he be? Ah, you see, I told you."

"My Lord," Severus greeted, as the two of them bowed. "Harry, I wondered where you'd gotten to." Severus reached out to squeeze Harry's shoulder. "Draco was complaining about you 'ditching him.'"

"There's only so much Quidditch talk I can listen to before my wand hand gets itchy," Harry replied, smirking. "Given cursing Draco would lead to an all-out war between us, I thought it better to remove myself."

Lucius snorted, fully aware of the 'wars' between Harry and Draco.

"I'm sure Narcissa will thank you," he said, shaking his head. "Between the two of you, I'm not sure how much furniture she's had to replace over the years, but if you'd upset her ballroom, you'd have had her wand aimed at you instead of the other's."

Harry nodded and glanced back at Lord Slytherin, who was watching the exchange with an amused air. When he saw Harry looking at him, he smiled slightly and then looked at Severus.

"Your son does you credit, Severus. He's an intelligent young man."

"Thank you, My Lord," Severus replied, smiling down at Harry. "He makes me proud every day. I look forward to the day I can publicly claim him as my own."

"It will come. I do have one question, Harry, before I leave for the evening."

Harry looked at him once more, waiting.

"How is it that your mind is so closed? Don't mistake me, I haven't tried to enter your mind, that would be inexcusably rude of me, but I can usually pick up surface thoughts even without invading a mind."

Harry bit back the thought the Dark Lord didn't give two hoots about being 'inexcusably rude', though he knew the man spoke the truth. His dad picked up surface thoughts occasionally too, though he tried not to.

Instead of verbally replying, he looked down at his hand, willing his Prince Heir ring into view.

"It's the gift of the Prince ring," he said, extending his hand slightly. "It protects me from any mind attacks. Or, well, even reading surface thoughts, I suppose."

"A triple Heir," Lord Slytherin murmured, his eyes moving from one ring to the next on Harry's fingers. "You're going to be quite the impressive young man when you leave Hogwarts, Harry. It'll be my pleasure to watch you flourish."

Nodding, Harry offered a tight smile as he stood. "If you'll excuse me, Lord Slytherin, I think it's time for me to retire for the night. It was nice to meet you."

"Of course. Goodnight, Harry."

Harry leant into Severus' side for a moment in an approximation of a hug, and Lucius ruffled his hair.

"G'night, Gremlin."

Harry snorted, and Severus shook his head before he said, "I'll check on you in a little while, Harry."

Harry nodded, and left the library, heading for the stairs. He was so tired now, he doubted he'd even be awake when his dad came to check on him.

…

Staying at Hogwarts for the Easter holidays hadn't been a difficult decision for Harry. Between the peace and quiet of three quarters of Slytherin house being gone for two weeks and the lure of the Room of Requirement, Harry had decided it was a no-brainer.

Of course, he hadn't actually expected the summons to the headmaster's office.

As soon as the letter arrived, Harry called for Hippy, asking her to let his father know as long as it was safe to do so, before he made the walk up from the dungeons.

The gargoyle in front of the office slid to the side as soon as he approached, and he stepped onto the moving staircase, letting it take him up to the office. He knocked once and waited to be called in, looking around in interest when he was.

There were all kinds of magical items spread around the room, a few of them making tiny noises or emitting little puffs of smoke. In the corner of the room, a large cage stood proudly, a phoenix swinging on the bar.

Harry stared for a long moment. Reading about phoenixes and seeing one were two entirely different experiences, and he couldn't help but admire the red and gold bird.

"This is Fawkes," Dumbledore said, noticing where Harry's gaze was focused. "You've caught him mid life span; he's at his best at the moment. Quite a beautiful creature, and very useful as a familiar."

Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away to look at the headmaster. "He's beautiful, Sir."

"Take a seat, my boy," Dumbledore said, waving Harry into the comfortable seat at the front of the desk. "Would you like tea? A lemon drop perhaps?"

"Tea would be great, thank you, Sir," Harry replied softly, knowing his Potter ring would detect any potions in the tea before he could drink it.

"You know, Harry, I rather thought I would meet you before now," Dumbledore said as he poured the tea and pushed a cup and saucer towards Harry. "Why, I had your father and his friends in here at least once a month for one reason or another."

Harry blinked. "Do you often have students here, Sir? I hadn't heard about it from any of my classmates."

"Oh, no, James was quite the prankster in his day," Dumbledore replied, blue eyes twinkling brightly. "The professors often sent him and Sirius—I believe you know him—up here for punishment. I think I rather let my professors down, Harry. I found James and Sirius quite amusing, I'm afraid. I don't think they saw the visits as much punishment at all."

"I do know Sirius," Harry said, picking out the safest part of the speech. "He's my godfather. It's been nice to get to know him. We holidayed in Spain this past summer, in fact."

"Lovely, lovely," Dumbledore said, nodding his head. "I believe he loves you very much, Harry. I cannot help but wonder why your… guardian chose to make him take a vow as to not tell anybody about who they are though, my boy. It's quite unsettling; I cannot help but wonder at the secrecy."

"My guardian chooses to remain hidden, Sir, for my safety. They want me to have somewhere safe to go, should I need it. After learning about how my parents were murdered, I understand the precaution."

"Quite understandable, Harry! Of course. Though, I cannot help but think that at least one person should know who they are. In case of emergency, I'm sure you understand. It'd be safer if you were to tell me their identity, I can help protect you, if it ever becomes necessary."

Harry frowned. "I can't be much more protected than I already am, Sir. Given the secrecy, I'm able to simply disappear from the world if I need to. I can't be much safer than that, Headmaster."

"I really must insist on knowing the identity of your guardian, Harry."

"Hippy," Harry called softly, smiling at the elf when she arrived. "Professor Dumbledore wants to know who my guardian is."

"I is," Hippy replied firmly, looking up at the headmaster. "Master Harry is my charge, and I protect him always."

"You can go now, Hippy," Harry offered, before he looked back at the headmaster.

Dumbledore was staring at him, clearly confused. "A wizard took you from your Aunt's residence."

Harry blinked. "Apologies if I'm being rude, Headmaster, but… do you take this much interest in all of the students' home lives?"

"You cannot simply have an elf as a guardian, Harry," Dumbledore said, sidestepping the question.

"I don't," Harry replied flatly. "But should you ever be in need of a guardian for me—for school business—then Hippy will suffice. If that is all, Headmaster, I do have some studying to do. OWLs, you know?"

"I… yes, yes, of course, my boy. Do visit again, won't you?"

Harry stood. "If you send for me again, Headmaster, then I'm sure I'll answer the summons. Have a good day, Sir."

He turned away and left the office, irritation running strong. While he knew he shouldn't go and see his dad, he couldn't help but want to. Instead he returned to the Slytherin common room and slumped onto the sofa.

The headmaster had entirely interrupted his studying for the day.

"Draco!" he called across the room, knowing the blond would hear him from the dorm.

"What?"

"Let's go flying."

…

The last morning of the Easter holiday fetched news of a Death Eater attack on a Muggle town in Surrey. It took Harry a moment to realise why the name was so familiar before he realised that it was the home of his Aunt and Uncle.

Auror reports had flocked in, and news of a Voldemort sighting had shook the Wizarding World to the core.

Around the Great Hall, Harry could see the students that had remained for the break pouring over the Daily Prophet, muttering in low voices to one another.

"I used to live there," Harry murmured to Draco, pointing to the name of the town in the paper. "It's where my Aunt and Uncle lived, before I was… moved."

Draco's eyes widened slightly in understanding. He turned the page of the paper, and pointed to an article about Lord Slytherin condemning the lack of Auror power available to defend against the attack, followed by a somewhat unsubtle attack on the Ministry as a whole for being incompetant.

Harry wasn't sure what to think. Why would the Dark Lord break news of his current status, if he was still playing the political circuit?

He glanced up at the high table to see his dad reading the paper. Looking along the table, he could see some of the Professors looked deeply concerned by the news. In the middle, Dumbledore and McGonagall were whispering to one another.

The Headmaster looked quite agitated.

"What does this mean, do you think?" Draco asked, as they closed and folded the paper between them.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Time will tell, I suppose. I do know that we need to study Transfiguration."

They left the Great Hall shoulder to shoulder, heading towards the library. Harry's mind, however, was still on the Prophet article, and more specifically, the Dark Lord.

What was the point, and more importantly, why there?

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the mindless killing of Muggles. Even if he personally didn't care for them, he couldn't help but think, in the long run, it was going to create more of a problem.

If the Dark Lord seemed unstable, who in their right mind was going to want to follow him?

It made little sense to Harry.

But, for now at least, it was none of his business.

…

By the time school broke for the summer, Harry was definitely ready for time off. As ready as he felt he'd been for the OWL exams, he was still grateful for the break from schoolwork.

Having to wait for his results, though, was enough to leave a constant feeling of anxiety and anticipation in his stomach. He just wanted to know he'd passed well, and more importantly, he wanted to know that he'd made his dad proud of him.

Unfortunately, Lord Slytherin had also descended on Malfoy Mansion for the summer, so every time Harry went to visit, he was also greeted by the Dark Lord watching him across rooms and halls.

His eyes always seemed to find Harry.

It was unnerving.

Still, it also came in handy, because there was something he was building up to talking to the man about, and when he finally got the courage, it was a simple matter of asking him for a moment of his time in private.

"For you, Harry, of course," he'd replied softly, a glint in his eyes as he nodded to the library Harry had practically grown up in.

"I'll, uh. Meet you there in five minutes?" Harry offered, a little awkward. "I have to get something from my room first."

Lord Slytherin nodded and Harry raced up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he'd stashed the objects he wanted to talk to Lord Slytherin about in a small black bag.

The locket, the crown, and the diary.

It wasn't that he wanted to give them up—he didn't, really—it was that he felt bad keeping them when he knew they didn't belong to him.

They weren't his to keep, and keeping them in his school trunk, so close to Dumbledore, seemed more of a risk than Harry had any right to take with things that didn't belong to him.

He lifted the bag and returned downstairs, slipping into the library to find the windows open and a lovely breeze drifting through.

Lord Slytherin eyed the bag and arched his eyebrow.

"I, uh. So, we both know I'm your Horcrux," Harry started, swallowing hard against the quick flash of emotion on the older man's face at the admittance. "And it turns out that I can, uh, sense other Horcruxes?"

A quick flash of surprise, and then Harry was pulling the items from the bag with reverent hands, placing them carefully on the table between them.

"Why are you giving these to me now?" Lord Slytherin asked after a moment.

"Dumbledore," Harry replied simply. "He's been watching me more this last year, and I don't suppose that's going to change. I didn't want to put them at risk of him finding them, but I didn't know what else to do. And… they're yours."

"How do you even have them? The diadem—"

"That's Ravenclaw's diadem?" Harry interrupted, eyes wide. "Really?"

Lord Slytherin smirked. "You didn't recognise it?"

Harry shook his head. "I… no. I didn't. I've never really researched the Founders beyond Salazar, to be perfectly honest."

"Go on, tell me how you came to have the others."

"I found the diary first," Harry said, thinking back to his second year. "A first year had it but it felt… strange. Like… like it was mine. I don't know. So I took it from her and hid it. And then, last year, I was at my godfather's house and I found the locket stuffed in a dresser. It felt the same as the diary but different. I… it felt more mine. So I took that too. And then the diadem I found in the room of hidden things at Hogwarts."

"Interesting," Lord Slytherin murmured. "I believed they were safe, and yet you've managed to find three with little effort. I thank you, Harry, for returning them to me."

Harry nodded, watching as the man slipped the diary into a pocket of his robes, the diadem into another. When he picked the locket up, he played with the chain for a moment before he looked at Harry.

"Would you wear this?"

Harry blinked. "I… why would you want me to?"

"Because you are a part of my soul, Harry, but only a small part. I'd like to keep you safe. Protected. When you are at the school, I cannot be there with you, but… part of me can. The locket will protect you, if it ever becomes necessary."

"Like my rings?" Harry asked, glancing down at his hands.

"Similarly."

"I'd be honoured," Harry replied, stilling so the Lord Slytherin could drape the chain over his head until the locket fell to his chest. Harry tucked it beneath his shirt, and felt a warmth where the metal met his skin.

It was almost like the locket was greeting him. He smiled, a little bewildered at the feeling.

"Thank you, Lord Slytherin."

Long, thin fingers cupped his chin, gently pushing his face up until their eyes met. "I think, Harry, that I'd like for you to call me Tom."

Harry stared. "I thought… I thought you didn't like that name."

Tom smiled. "I believe falling from your lips, any name of mine would sound sweet."

Feeling his cheeks heating up, Harry looked away, grateful when the elegant fingers left his face. "Thank you. Tom."

He chanced a glance and found Tom watching him with slightly softened features. When their eyes met, Tom's lips curved up. "Sweet. Just like I said."

…

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Harry asked, walking quickly across the fire to support Lucius, who looked ready to collapse. His robes were singed, his hair dirty with both grime and blood, and there were entirely too many cuts littering him, his robes sliced open to show the marked skin.

He was suddenly very glad that Draco was already fast asleep in bed. Harry was only awake himself because he'd been unable to rest and had gotten bored staring at the ceiling.

He paid little mind to the other Death Eaters that followed, some of them supported by others. Harry didn't care for them, didn't know them.

"Dumbledore intercepted us," Lucius grunted.

"My dad?" Harry asked, tone suddenly sharp, even as he helped Lucius into a chair.

"He's fine," Lucius assured him with a pained smile. "I promise, Harry. Severus is fine. He'll be here shortly with potions for those of us that are injured."

Harry shook his head, pulling his wand from his pocket. A string of Latin left his lips as he concentrated on healing the injuries he could with his rudimental healing abilities.

"Harry," a voice greeted as he entered behind the Death Eaters. "I didn't know you were a healer."

Harry glanced over his shoulder just long enough to aim a glare at the Dark Lord—for this was Voldemort, not Tom—before he turned his attention back to Lucius.

For just a moment, green eyes had met red, and Harry didn't know how he felt about this man, this… this monster.

Intellectually, he knew that Tom and Voldemort were one and the same, but seeing was believing and Harry wasn't sure if he could right at that moment.

Not when his uncle was so bloody.

"Gremlin, be nice," Lucius chided gently, sighing in relief as Harry's magic began to knit his wounds together. "It was a raid, these things happen. It could have been much worse."

"You say that now," Harry muttered.

"I say that always," Lucius replied. "Really, Harry, I'm fine. It looks worse than it actually is."

"Don't tell me," Harry said, his lips tilting. "The other guy looks much worse?"

"The other guy is dead," Lucius retorted with a snort and Harry blinked and then laughed because what the hell was he supposed to do with that?

Lucius smirked at him.

Narcissa joined them, and rolled her eyes when she saw her husband. "Really Lucius, you're going to come home and get blood all over my favourite chair? Is this how you show your love for me these days?"

Lucius laughed, reaching out to snag her hand in his, before he brought it up to his lips for a kiss. "I'll buy you new chairs."

"Yes, you will," she agreed, glancing at Harry with a sly wink. She turned her head to Voldemort. "My Lord, do you require anything?"

"Perhaps some refreshments, my lady," he replied. Harry turned to see that he'd transformed back into Tom, during the time Harry had been focused on healing Lucius. "Severus is bringing the potions we require, but in the meantime, I believe tea and scotch would be welcome."

"Of course, I'll have the elves send up a service. Harry, why don't you come with me?"

Harry nodded, glancing back at Lucius. "Please have my dad come and find me after he's delivered the potions?"

"Of course, Gremlin," Lucius promised. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Harry nodded, and then allowed Narcissa to lead him from the room. He heard Tom call a sharp 'goodnight' to him, but he ignored him. Perhaps tomorrow, after he'd been assured that his dad and uncle Lucius were truly okay, would he apologise for his behaviour.

Until then, well. The Dark Lord could suck a lemon drop.

Narcissa waited until they were out of hearing distance before she laughed, her hand leaving Harry's shoulder only so she could wrap her arm around him properly.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, looking up at her.

"Only you, my love, would ever get away with what you just did in there."

Harry snorted.

Narcissa grinned at him. "Keep it up, Harry. I think it does him good to have someone challenge him. Now come on, get yourself up to your room. Your father will be here shortly, and I'll make sure that he can at least come and say goodnight to you before they begin dissecting the mission."

"Thank you," he replied, reaching up slightly to kiss her cheek. "Goodnight, Auntie."

"Goodnight, Harry."

…

It was almost forty minutes later when his dad finally made it to his room. Harry looked up from the book he'd been trying to read, letting out a breath of relief as he took in his father, uninjured and whole.

"I'm fine," he assured Harry, perching on his bed.

Harry, not caring for propriety or whether he was too old, leant over to wrap his arms around his dad's shoulders.

"Promise?" He asked, feeling more like a child than he had in years as Severus cradled him to his chest.

"I promise. Are you okay?"

Harry nodded before he pulled back reluctantly to sit against his pillows.

"The Dark Lord is in quite the snit downstairs. I don't think he enjoys it when you're angry with him, Harry," his dad murmured, a small smirk on his face.

"Uncle Lucius was a mess, Dad!" Harry protested.

"Flesh wounds, for the most part, and nothing that your spell work and a few potions hasn't already fixed, I promise."

Harry huffed, and his dad chuckled. "I have to go back downstairs—the Dark Lord has called a meeting—but I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Nodding, Harry shifted on the bed until he was lying down, one hand automatically reaching up to clamp around the locket, as he did every night.

"I love you," Severus murmured quietly, reaching out to stroke Harry's hair from his face. "Sleep well, son."

"I love you too, Dad."

…

Harry's hands shook slightly as he pulled the parchment from its envelope, unfolding it and laying it flat on the table in front of him. A wave of relief almost had him slumping against the wood, his eyes tracing over his OWL results.

"How'd you do?" Draco asked, looking up from his own results with a strong expression of pride on his face.

"I did well," Harry replied, nodding. They switched parchments, and Harry noticed Draco had done as well as he had and he smiled at his best friend, before he looked up to find his dad's impatient gaze.

"Straight Os," he admitted with a grin.

"Me too," Draco added, smiling at his parents. He looked back at Harry. "I still think we could stand to spend a little less time in the library."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Heathen."

Severus rounded the table to look over Harry's letter for himself, his hand warm on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you," he murmured, for Harry's ears only, and Harry leant back against him for a moment, enjoying the knowledge that he'd done as well as he possibly could have.

…

Harry stared at the woman, unsure of her insanity-laced laughter. "Is she… okay?"

Severus snorted. "That's Bellatrix Lestrange. So, no. No, she's not okay. But she wasn't okay before Azkaban either, son, so I believe it's something you'll just have to get used to."

Harry snorted, his eyes travelling over the others in the group. "Are they all staying here?"

"No, of course not," Severus assured him. "They'll be gone before the end of the weekend, only coming back for meetings if and when they're necessary. I rather thought we could go home for the weekend though. I know we've spent quite a lot of time here this summer."

"Can we?" Harry asked, glancing at the fireplace.

"Of course. Shall we ask Draco if he wants to join us?"

"Won't he want to greet his…" Harry glanced back at Bellatrix. "Aunt?"

"I'm quite sure he'll be grateful for the excuse not to," his dad replied dryly and Harry chuckled.

"Kay, I'll ask him. I can't believe Tom broke into Azkaban, though. Dumbledore won't be happy, will he?"

"Oh, I think the Dark Lord is quite happy with any plans that displease the headmaster," Severus said, amusement evident in his tone. "Go and collect Draco and we'll take our leave."

Harry nodded and left the room, skirting around the newly released inmates. He was so ready to not be at Malfoy Manor.

…

"He's made me the Defence Professor," Severus announced to Lucius and the Dark Lord a week before the beginning of the term.

He'd been called in to see the Headmaster, and had been told, quite firmly, that it was only for a year and then he'd be able to return to Potions, but Severus wasn't stupid.

He was being discarded in the only way that made it impersonal for the Headmaster.

"Is that right?" the Dark Lord mused, rubbing his chin. "Interesting. Who is he bringing in for Potions?"

"Slughorn."

"So that's his play," Voldemort said softly, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Slughorn was a professor in my day, and I asked him about Horcruxes. If Albus is bringing him back, then I imagine that's the reason. He knows of my treasures. How much he knows is anyone's guess, of course, but perhaps it's time I collect them myself before he can get his hands on them."

"Have you told Harry yet?" Lucius asked softly.

Severus shook his head. "Not yet. He's not going to be happy, and honestly, neither am I. Regardless of what this means for me, he's going to be spending his final year at Hogwarts without me there."

"Not necessarily," Voldemort replied, his lips tilting into a smirk.

"My Lord?"

"I was the one to curse the position," he said, twirling his wand in his hands. "I can release the curse just as easily. Won't it shine a light on his incompetence if you were to serve two consecutive years as Professor of a subject you've been asking him for for years?"

Severus chuckled. "As you say, My Lord."

"Consider it done, Severus. And do tell Harry not to worry, won't you?"

"Yes, My Lord. Thank you."

…

The welcoming feast was barely over when Harry received a summons to the headmaster's office.

Frowning down at the parchment, he tilted it slightly to show Draco.

"What the hell?" Draco muttered. "I'll tell your dad when he comes to welcome the firsties."

"Thanks. I have no idea what this is about but it can't be anything good, can it?"

"Doubt it," Draco agreed. "I'll wait up for you."

Harry nodded and as Draco moved down the stairs towards the dungeons, Harry made his way up to the headmaster's office. He was already irritated with the headmaster for making his dad the Defence Professor, despite the assurances from both his dad and Tom that it would be fine.

He really wasn't looking forward to having to deal with the old man.

Dumbledore was waiting for him by the gargoyle, and they travelled up the moving staircase together.

The headmaster didn't speak until they were seated at the desk with a tea tray between them.

"I know the last thing you expected this evening was to be visiting with me, Harry, but I've come to the conclusion that I can no longer keep the truth from you."

"The truth, Sir?"

"About your destiny, my boy."

Harry blinked. "Um, okay?"

"Shortly after you were born, a prophecy was made. It told of a child, born as the seventh month dies, that was foretold to be the one that would defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort. You, Harry, are that child."

Harry stared for a long moment and then snorted. "I don't think I am, Professor. Sorry to burst your bubble and all but—"

"Harry, you must listen to me. You are the Chosen One."

"Uh. Have you been watching Muggle movies, Sir? That sounds like a line from Star Wars."

"I feel like you're not taking this seriously, my boy. I have the prophecy here, for you to listen to. Perhaps when you hear the whole thing, you'll understand the gravity of the situation."

Harry nodded dubiously, as the headmaster tapped his pensieve. A ghostly figure rose from the depths and a voice came from it, breathless and airy.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but 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... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Harry blinked and looked at Dumbledore, who was watching him with an expectant expression.

"I still don't know why you believe that's me, Headmaster."

"Your mother and father, Lily and James Potter—" at this, Harry rolled his eyes, because did the Headmaster really think he wasn't aware of his heritage. He didn't say anything, and Dumbledore continued. "Had defied the Dark Lord Voldemort three times publicly. The scar on your head was left by Voldemort when you destroyed his physical body when you were just a baby, thus, the mark of an equal."

"Just because my parents defied him three time publicly, doesn't mean anything, Sir," Harry pointed out. "They could have defied him ten times in private. And who says my scar is the scar of an equal? It doesn't look like an equal sign, that's two horizontal lines."

"Harry—"

Not to be deterred, Harry soldiered on, "And 'neither can live while the other survives' is the most open line I've ever heard in my life. What if we were both 'living' rather than surviving? I consider myself to be living, not surviving, Headmaster, so does that mean that Voldemort is only surviving? If he learnt to live, it makes that null and void, surely?"

"Prophecy interpretation—"

"Is just that, Sir," Harry snapped. "Interpretation. I interpret it differently to you, but who is to say which one of us is correct? I don't appreciate you bringing me into your office to tell me that I'm prophesied to kill someone. I'm not a murderer."

"Harry, it matters not how you interpret the prophecy at this point. Voldemort has already decided you're the boy that can defeat him, and he'll stop at nothing to get his hands on you. I'm afraid one way or another, the prophecy will be fulfilled."

"Tell you that over tea and biscuits, did he?" Harry replied, shaking his head as he looked away.

"I know this is a lot to take in, Harry. Perhaps you should go and think it over before you make any rash decisions."

Taking the out for what it was, Harry stood up, leaving his tea untouched on the desk. Before he left, he said, "I know you think this is a 'rash' decision, Headmaster, but I'm not planning to fight a Dark Lord. I enjoy my life as it is, and I'm not going to ruin it in a fight in which I'd be severely overpowered. If Lord Voldemort is as feared as he seems to be by the Wizarding World at large, I'm not stupid enough to want to fight him personally. You need to find yourself another 'Chosen One'. Have a good evening, Sir."

…

As the weeks passed and the weather turned colder by the day, Harry received more letters to 'visit' Dumbledore's office for tea. Given that they were mere suggestions and not orders, Harry felt quite comfortable in ignoring the summons until such a time came that he was ordered to see the headmaster again.

Instead, he continued his school career as he always had, concentrating on his studies and spending the majority of his time with Draco.

The Prophet seemed to be bringing more news of chaos and destruction wrought on the world by the Death Eaters, and Harry always read the articles carefully, he and Draco dissecting them carefully as to the whys and the hows.

Halloween passed and there seemed to be an air of anticipation amongst the teachers. Harry thought Dumbledore actually looked disappointed when nothing happened during the Halloween feast.

It was almost like the man wanted Voldemort to attack.

Strange behaviour for the headmaster of a school, in Harry's opinion. At this point, though, Harry was just waiting for the Yule break. Between the Headmaster annoying him by post and Slughorn's constant invitations to the 'Slug Club', Harry was done with the adults in the castle.

He just wanted to go home.

…

Harry decided that he loved Rabastan Lestrange.

An odd discovery, certainly, but the man was hilarious. "Coming home for Christmas" had in fact meant Malfoy Manor, though his dad was home for the entire time with him. The Manor was bustling with visitors, but Tom and the Lestranges were there for the entire two weeks.

While Harry was still trying to avoid Bellatrix—the air of crazy around her was intense—he found that he enjoyed the company of the brothers.

Rodolphus had a dark humour that had Draco in peals of laughter quite frequently, but Rabastan was just witty, and Harry appreciated that. Watching his dad and Rabastan banter over dinner became his favourite part of the day.

"C'mere, shortstack," Rabastan said to him, a few days into the break.

Harry had snorted at the nickname, but done as he was bid. "What is it?"

"I'm going to teach you how to torture someone with the lightest spell possible," Rabastan replied. "We're going to get Bella."

"Have you got a death wish?" Harry asked, arching his eyebrow. "I don't think she really needs an excuse to murder people, and here you are, trying to give her one."

"I was in Azkaban for a long time, Harry, you can't expect me not to be a little bit addled."

So, Harry had watched as Rabastan—one of the most feared Death Eaters—tortured Bellatrix Lestrange—the most insane of the Death Eaters—with Rictusempra. For twenty five minutes.

In fairness to Bellatrix, she'd managed the first couple of minutes with barely a twitch—an impressive feat with the tickling spell, in Harry's opinion—but by the five minute mark, she was clutching her sides as she cackled loud enough to be heard around the house.

Everytime Rabastan let the spell go, she glared at him and threatened retribution, only for him to cast the spell again.

It was a lesson in torture in the weirdest possible way.

Three days before the end of break, Rabastan was still running away any time Bellatrix entered the room. Harry didn't blame him.

During the break, Harry also found himself spending time with Tom, who still seemed to be seeking him out far more often than he did anyone else.

A lot of the time, they discussed books, because it was a passion that they'd shared, but there had been a serious discussion at the beginning of the holidays when Harry mentioned the prophecy.

All the adults in the room had stiffened, and Harry froze, not realising that he'd just dropped a bomb on the room.

He was hurried off to Lucius' study with his dad and the Dark Lord before he could even apologise for whatever he'd said to cause such a reaction.

"When did he tell you the Prophecy, Harry?" his dad asked, as soon as the door was closed.

"The first night of school," Harry replied. "I told you he'd called me up there to tell me I was the Chosen One, remember?"

"You didn't tell me he'd given you the prophecy," Severus replied softly.

"Uh. Sorry? He made it seem like Tom already knew it though."

"Can we see your memory of the meeting, Harry?" Tom asked, nodding to Lucius' pensieve.

It was smaller than Dumbledore's, but no less ornate, the gold markings glinting in the light.

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Lucius guided him in removing the memory from his mind and into the bowl, and Harry curled up on his armchair while the three of them watched the memory.

He was surprised to find them all laughing when they returned to themselves, and Harry blinked at them all.

"Harry, you don't know how beautifully you did," Lucius said, wiping at the tears of mirth gathering in the corners of his eyes. "But that was a stunning performance."

"And you were correct," Tom added, sitting in the chair beside Harry, their elbows brushing. "Interpretation of Prophecies is a tricky business. In this case, however, Albus was correct about one thing. You're the only one I've ever marked as my equal."

His eyes flicked to the lightning bolt on Harry's head.

"Does this mean you're going to start chasing me round the country trying to kill me, Tom?" Harry asked softly, arching his eyebrow.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Cheeky. No, I rather like your interpretation of the second half of the Prophecy actually. I'd never heard the full thing, it's certainly interesting."

Harry scowled. "You came after me on the basis of half of a prophecy? Are you addled?"

Tom snorted, even as Severus and Lucius' eyes widened at Harry's cheek.

"Perhaps I was," he admitted, meeting Harry's eyes. "I've felt much better since you returned two pieces of my soul after all."

Harry nodded, and then scrunched his nose. "So… I didn't do anything wrong with the Headmaster? I didn't think it was important but—"

"You were perfect, Harry," Severus assured him. "I know you've been avoiding his continued requests for you to visit, but I think next term, he's likely to be more insistent."

"He will," Tom assured them. "If he—like I did—truly believes Harry to be the boy of Prophecy, he'll stop at nothing to get Harry on side. I think this may require moving up the schedule, in all honesty. If he doesn't get his way by the summer, it's likely that he'll do something quite rash."

"What schedule?" Harry asked, brow furrowed.

"The Headmaster needs removing from the school, by any means necessary," Tom replied. "I was going to do it by political means, embarrass him professionally before I allowed him to face off against Voldemort, but I believe, perhaps, for your safety, we may have to change our plans."

"My safety?"

"It's possible the Headmaster will attempt to keep you at the school at the end of the year, Harry, if you continue to refuse to fight Tom," Lucius said. "Or perhaps even remove you to somewhere 'safe' of his own. We don't want to take that chance."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Something to think on, certainly," Tom said, ending the discussion there. "But for now, Christmas approaches and I believe we should be enjoying ourselves, no?"

Lucius nodded. "Quite right. Narcissa has a list of jobs that she requires help with in preparation for the ball, and I believe she intends to recruit everyone over the next few days."

"You'd think being a Dark Lord would excuse me from such tasks," Tom muttered, shaking his head.

Harry laughed. "Nothing gets between Aunt Narcissa and a perfect ball, Tom. Not even the threat of torture."

The holidays had passed quickly after that, between the gift exchange, the ball, and the antics of the Malfoy's guests, and Harry found himself sad to be getting back onto the Hogwarts Express with Draco for the beginning of the new term.

It had been his best Christmas yet.

"Only a year and a half to go, Harry," Draco said, as they settled into their compartment.

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"I was commiserating for the both of us actually," Draco scoffed, and Harry laughed.

At least he still had Draco.

…

Returning to school after Christmas was hard. Harry didn't think he'd ever enjoyed a break more; not only had he had fun himself, but his dad had seemed more carefree and happy than Harry had ever known him.

He tried to remind himself of Draco's words, that there was only half a year until the summer, and then just one more with being so close to Dumbledore until he was done forever.

The old man made Harry nervous.

Not that he didn't think he was protected—he absolutely was, and he knew he had powerful wizards in his corner—but Dumbledore actually seemed a little unhinged to Harry and insane people were dangerous people.

Just look at Bellatrix. Rabastan still couldn't walk in a room she was in without having to avoid curses.

Packing up after defence, a few weeks into the term, Harry realised that there was something inside the scroll of homework his dad passed back to him. Forcing himself to be patient, Harry put it into his bag as he usually did, and left it there until he was in the dorm, behind the privacy of his own pulled curtains.

The envelope was expensive, that much Harry was sure, having gotten used to the Malfoys. His name was written on the front in dark green—almost black—ink, the writing in a perfect calligraphic script.

He opened the letter and immediately scanned to the bottom, eyes widening slightly as he saw the letter was from Tom.

Settling back against his pillows, Harry read.

Dear Harry,

It's been but a few weeks since you returned to the castle, and yet, Malfoy Manor seems lacking without your presence. Lucius can only entertain me for so long as we discuss books—his opinions are never quite as amusing as your own, and he seems unwilling to argue with me quite the way you do.

Not that I can blame him for that. Curses flow to mind when I'm faced with others far quicker than they do when I speak with you.

How is it going at school? I'd hope that the Headmaster is leaving you alone, but I'm not expecting as much. How are your studies? Have you learnt anything particularly interesting in the last few weeks?

I've never been interested in another person before, you'll have to tell me how my letter writing skills are. Usually if I write a missive, it's to order the… removal of an obstacle in my path, not because I actually care about the answers to my questions.

Your father has agreed to pass this along—as I'm quite sure you're now aware—because I don't put it past the headmaster to be watching the post. He's quite paranoid, you know?

Merlin knows why.

I thought perhaps, if you wish to correspond with me until we see one another in the summer, that you could use your house elf to fetch and carry the letters. It's much safer than any—legal—ways I could come up with, and given how taken your Hippy is with you, I know she'd never do anything that could cause you harm.

It comforts me that she cares for you so much.

Please write back at your earliest convenience,

Tom

Harry read the letter twice and then shook his head, bemused. Knowing who Tom actually was, it seemed so… odd, that he'd write such a letter. Surely he had better things to be doing with his time, given his current duel personage.

But then, Harry considered how much time Tom had spent with Harry over the break, how often he sought Harry out when he had a free moment, and he wondered if perhaps having someone off limits for his wand was good for Tom.

As he was thinking about a return letter, the realisation that he liked Tom hit him, and he froze on his bed, brow furrowed. It hadn't even crossed his mind to not reply, and it wasn't even like he felt particularly pressured.

He just… enjoyed Tom's conversation.

He enjoyed his company.

This was the man that had killed his parents, that had killed so many people, that had split his soul without remorse. This was the man that Harry should hate more than anyone else in the world, and yet… he really didn't.

Biting his lip, Harry folded up the letter—unfolded it and spelled it for his eyes only before he refolded it—and then put it in the drawer of his bedside table.

He'd reply to it tomorrow.

…

Their correspondence quickly grew into two, sometimes three, letters every week. Harry kept them all, spelled so that only he could read them, in a box in his trunk, not trusting the Headmaster to not try snooping.

The end of the year was approaching rapidly, and Harry and Draco had turned their attention to the end of year exams. Harry still wasn't sure what was going to happen at the end of the year, at least as far as Dumbledore was concerned. Tom hadn't made mention of any plans.

Unwilling to compromise his marks through worrying about something he didn't know would happen, Harry pushed the matter from his mind and threw himself into his revising.

He thought, later, that that was why he hadn't realised it had been four days since Tom had written to him—the longest gap since the first letter.

The morning after his last exam, Harry followed Draco down to the Great Hall as he did every morning, absently pouring himself a coffee and grabbing a few slices of toast to put on his plate before he flipped open the Daily Prophet.

He blinked at the picture dominating the front and then automatically looked at the teachers' table to find that the Headmaster was indeed missing from his usual seat.

"Merlin," Draco murmured, clearly ahead of Harry in reading, and Harry looked down at the writing at the bottom of the page.

During an attack last night by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers, Albus Dumbledore entered the fray with an envoy of his own people who immediately stepped in to help the Auror battle the Dark Forces attacking a muggle suburb in the South of England.

What followed was a battle for the ages, with Dumbledore clearly hitting the Dark Lord with everything in his repertoire, and the Dark Lord fighting back with just as much ardor.

At more than one point in the battle, it appeared as though the Headmaster of Hogwarts had the upper hand, only for the Dark Lord to turn it quickly on his head with an offensive the likes of which have never been seen before.

In the end, the Dark Lord seemed to win the battle, as Dumbledore Apparated away from the scene in bad shape, and the Dark Lord disappeared with his forces only seconds behind him.

The losses of the battle were few, and their names are printed inside. Our thoughts go out to their families.

Harry shook his head, and moved to open the paper, only for a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Mr Potter, can you come with me, please," his dad said. "I'll write you a pass for your classes."

Harry frowned but nodded, paper left forgotten on the table as he followed his dad from the Great Hall and back down towards the dungeons. Only when they were in his office did his dad relax from his 'Professor Snape' persona.

He warded the office quickly and then turned to Harry, a sombre look on his face.

"Harry—"

"Who died, Dad?"

His dad winced, but nodded. "Black. He was amongst the Order—Dumbledore's group—that joined the headmaster last night. Tom sends his apologies, nobody knew Black was there. They were all wearing masks."

Harry stumbled back until the back of his knees hit a chair, and then sat down heavily.

"He's dead?"

"I'm sorry, son," Severus murmured. "If I'd known—"

Harry shook his head, feeling a little lost. "Wasn't your fault. Sirius… I guess he made his own choices, right?"

Severus sighed, but perched back against the desk, running a hand through Harry's hair as Harry leant sideways against him.

"You okay?"

Harry nodded blankly. "I just… he was the last thing linking me to my birth parents. It's weird that he's just… gone now."

"I believe I can have you removed from school a few days early on bereavement leave," his dad offered softly. "You can go home and wait for me there, or go to the Malfoys. Lucius has already professed a wish to see you and has sent his condolences."

Harry nodded and then scrunched his nose. "I don't want to just wander around on my own at home and…"

"What is it, son?" Severus asked, when Harry hesitated to continue.

"I know it's not his fault, but I don't want to see Tom right now. I know i'm being unfair but—"

"Hey, no. Your feelings are always valid, Harry, haven't I always told you that? If you want to stay here, then you can, and if you want to spend the whole summer at Prince Manor, then that's what you'll do, okay?"

"Thanks, Dad."

Severus nodded, folding himself slightly to press a kiss to Harry's head.

"Can we… can I go to the funeral?"

"Of course. You're his heir, Harry, you can do whatever you want."

Harry nodded, and they sat in silence for a little while as Harry tried to pull his head together. It wasn't easy, and he knew he'd be feeling it for a while, but for now, he just wanted to carry on with his week and deal with the sudden hole in his chest later. Eventually, in an effort to distract himself, he asked, "How's Dumbledore? The paper said he was in bad shape."

"For once, the Prophet actually managed to report the truth," Severus quipped softly. "The Dark Lord hit the headmaster with a slow acting curse that has no known cure. For now, it's been stopped in his arm, but he has—at best—a year to live."

Harry nodded slowly. "Was that wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"The headmaster already struck me as being somewhat unstable; given a death sentence isn't going to make him any less desperate, is it?"

"Likely not," Severus agreed. "But he has an… expiration date now, and it'll be one less thing for us to worry about with regards to your safety. I can't feel sorry about that, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not asking you to feel sorry, Dad. I just… I guess I think he's going to be even more dangerous now, that's all."

"We'll have to be careful," his dad said. "It'll be over soon, Harry, and you'll be able to be who you are."

Harry nodded. While he still didn't particularly enjoy the thought of people dying in general, he couldn't deny that it would be nice to no longer have to pretend that Severus was only his head of house.

And it was nice to know that Severus relished the thought of being able to publicly claim him as his son.

"I'm going to go to class, Dad," Harry said, forcing himself to his feet. "I can't just sit around all day, I'll go mad."

Severus nodded and quickly wrote out a pass on a slip of parchment. "If you need me at all, you know where I am. And you can always send Hippy to get me, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks Dad. I love you."

"I love you too, son. And I am, truly, sorry about Sirius."

Harry tried to smile—he wasn't sure he managed it—and nodded. He knew his dad and Sirius had never gotten along, so the sentiment was appreciated.

He left the office and walked towards the Charms classroom, pass tucked in his pocket.

Today was going to be a day.

…

Harry pulled on a black travelling cloak over his formal robes and checked his appearance in the mirror. He knew he was going to be expected at the funeral—and a large part of him wanted to be there, to pay his respects to the godfather he hadn't known long enough—but having to go alone wasn't easy.

Severus had offered to take Polyjuice so that he could go with him, but Harry had told him no. He knew his dad would be expected there as himself; he had been practically ordered to attend already by Dumbledore.

Lucius had also offered to go with Harry, but again, Harry knew it would be weird for Lucius Malfoy to turn up to Sirius' funeral.

He was grateful for the offers, the knowledge that they would be there with him no matter the circumstances, but he also knew that he could handle this. He was only a few weeks off of his seventeenth birthday.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair—he hadn't even tried to fix it, there was little point—and called for Hippy. Despite his knowing how to apparate, he technically still wasn't allowed to take the actual test for a few more weeks. Ridiculous really, but it was important he did some things correctly.

"Ready, Master Harry?"

"As I'll ever be, Hippy," Harry agreed, holding his hand out for her to grip. There was a split second pause, and then they were gone, leaving behind only an echoing snap.

…

Harry sat in the second row, avoiding the eyes of everyone that sought to make eye contact. Dumbledore was there, the twinkle missing from his eyes as he affected a sombre appearance, helped into his seat by Professor McGonagall. Around him were seated the Hogwarts contingent.

Harry had smiled at his dad, nodding his head in greeting, but sat on the other side to them, unwilling to put up with Dumbledore today.

Listening to the man at the front—a Ministry official that Harry didn't recognise the name of—talk about Sirius, Harry had the feeling that nobody had bothered to supply a eulogy.

The man clearly didn't know Sirius, as he talked about a clever, serious man. The pun—despite it not having been explicitly made—had Harry biting his lip so as not to laugh.

How many times had Sirius made that pun, time and again? He was nothing like this man described him.

Harry had never been to a funeral before, and he watched with a small amount of curiosity as the casket was lit on fire—a magical fire, if the colours were any indication—and it was completely engulfed in the flames until they died down, leaving nothing but a pile of ash.

The ashes were collected into an ornate urn and there was a momentary hesitation, before it was handed solemnly to Harry.

Harry accepted it with wide eyes, unsure what in the hell he was supposed to do with them, as the guests around him started standing from their seats.

He didn't know Sirius well enough to know what he wanted to be done with his ashes, and he sighed as he realised he was going to have to approach the group across the aisle.

He'd seen Remus Lupin in the group, and he supposed if anyone knew what was to be done with the ashes, it would be him.

Gathering himself, Harry stood, the urn cradled delicately in his arms, and walked across to the group.

The Headmaster opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it.

"Mr Lupin?"

His old professor looked up at him through haunted eyes, and Harry barely held the wince. He looked so much older than he had in Harry's third year, like the grief had aged him by decades.

"Harry. It's good to see you. I know Sirius would have been happy you were here," Lupin said, practically choking on Harry's godfather's name.

Harry wanted to point out that Sirius wouldn't have wanted him here because he didn't want to die, but he held his tongue, knowing the sudden anger wasn't really for Lupin.

"I, uh, I wondered if you wanted to keep his ashes," Harry said softly. "Or if you knew what he wanted me to do with them, at least. It wasn't something we ever talked about, so I'm not sure what to do."

Lupin offered a tired smile and nodded. "I believe he wanted to be scattered by your parents' graves, Harry. We were… we were all a family, for better or worse, so I think he'd like to be there with them."

Harry nodded and swallowed hard. He tried to hand over the urn, but Lupin shook his head.

"You should do it, Harry."

Harry blinked. "I… don't know where they're buried, Mr Lupin."

Remus stared at him and then turned to glare at Dumbledore. "You never took him to his parents' graves?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry's guardianship isn't mine, Remus. It would be for his guardians to take him. I'd be happy to escort him though, when I'm feeling better."

Shaking his head with clear disgust, Lupin turned back to Harry. "Would you like me to take you, Harry?"

Harry had never wanted to look at his dad so much in his life, but he forced himself not to, and then nodded. If he had to spread Sirius' ashes there anyway, it would make sense to visit now and get it out of the way.

Lupin stood on slightly shaky legs and gestured for Harry to follow him to the outskirts of the clearing.

"Hold on tight to my arm, Harry," Lupin instructed softly, and Harry did so. Moments later, they were travelling through the tight vice of apparition.

…

Godric's Hollow was a picturesque village, and Harry looked around with interest. This was where he'd been born. Remus led him straight into the graveyard, following a clearly familiar path until they reached two graves, side by side.

Harry looked down at them, and he couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like had they lived. Would he be a Gryffindor, waiting and eager to join the fight against the Dark Lord? Would he be a Quidditch enthusiast? Would he have still enjoyed books?

Not that he'd ever know. His parents were dead, and no amount of wondering would ever change that. Harry opened the urn and carefully tipped the ashes between the two graves.

"I'll miss you, Sirius," he murmured almost silently.

When there were only the last stubborn specks of ash in the urn, Harry again offered it to Lupin.

"You should keep it," was all he said, and Lupin nodded, swallowing hard against the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded.

"If you need anything," Lupin offered. "I'm just a letter away."

Harry nodded again, unsure what to say—or if there was even anything to say. Instead he called for Hippy, wincing when her arrival sounded loudly in the silence of the graveyard.

"I'll see you at the reading of his will next week," Remus said, glancing at the elf.

"Okay. I… thanks for bringing me here, Mr Lupin."

"Call me Remus," Lupin offered.

Harry just offered a tight smile and let Hippy take him home. Standing at the graves of his birth parents had only reinforced for Harry just how much he needed his dad right now.

…

Since the reading of Sirius' will was the day after Harry's birthday, he decided to save all of his business at Gringotts for the same time. It would make for a long day, but it also meant that he could enjoy turning seventeen.

He woke in his bed at Prince Manor and spent a moment doing inconsequential spells just for his own amusement. Despite the fact that he'd been doing magic outside of Hogwarts since he'd first learned it given the wards on both Prince Manor and Malfoy Manor, it was still novel to know that he was allowed to use it now.

He finally left his room to find his dad waiting for him in the kitchen with a simple breakfast spread under warming charms, and a pile of presents waiting.

"Happy seventeenth, son," Severus said, smiling when Harry hugged him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm good," Harry replied. "I feel better about today than I have been."

Severus nodded and Harry focused on filling his plate for a moment. After lunch, they were to go to Malfoy Manor for the first time since Christmas, and Harry had been rather ridiculously nervous about it.

He'd felt stupid even admitting as much to his dad, given the amount of time he'd spent there over the years, but Severus had taken him at face value and offered a compromise.

They could spend the first part of the holidays at Prince Manor, and allow Lucius and Narcissa their fun throwing Harry a birthday party, using that as an excuse to return.

It was giving Harry enough space while also limiting the time he was apart from the people he considered his family, and it was just what he'd needed.

They ate breakfast in a companionable silence, Severus looking over the paper and pointing at specific things he thought Harry would like. He made sure to stay away from any mentions of the battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore, for which Harry was thankful for, and instead pointed out that there was a potions ingredient auction coming up in a couple of weeks, and that the Weasley twins—the only two Weasleys' Harry had met and actually liked—had opened up their own shop in Diagon Alley.

After breakfast, Harry turned his attention to the pile of presents, opening them carefully one by one.

His dad bought him a watch, a new wand holster, and a certificate for him to take Muggle Driving lessons which made Harry chuckle, along with a few of the books Harry had been eyeing lately. He hugged him again in thanks, and asked his dad to help him put the watch on.

A sign of adulthood, aided with the promise that Harry still needed his dad to help him navigate life.

From Lucius and Narcissa—along with a note promising more later—came a travelling cloak with his three house insignias already sewn into it, and a book that made Harry drool.

From Draco, a practice snitch, a bucket-load of sweets, and a pair of leather trousers that made Severus choke on his coffee.

There was nothing from Tom, not that Harry had really expected anything, but it still kind of stung. Then again, there had been no letters between them since Sirius died, so Harry wasn't really sure what he was supposed to think about what was going on with the man.

Harry flew over the grounds for a while after breakfast in an attempt to get rid of some of his nervous energy, playing with the snitch Draco had sent him, before he returned to the house to shower and change for his party.

Merlin, but he didn't want a party.

…

Thankfully, Harry's arrival at Malfoy Manor was met with little fanfare beyond the usual hugs and Lucius' declarations that he'd missed his little Gremlin desperately, and a promise of the library being restocked with new books for him to devour in good time.

It was normal, and Harry had never been more grateful for normal in his life.

The party was low-key, almost non-existent, if what Draco said was anything to go by. His own seventeenth birthday party at the very beginning of summer had been the party to end all parties.

Harry had apologised again for missing it—and been told to stop being a Hufflepuff for his troubles—but he really hadn't been up to it.

There were more presents—Harry practically had a library of his own by the time he'd stacked them up, not to mention clothes and strange little magical objects that he'd enjoy figuring out—along with cake and drinks. Blaise and Theo had joined them, along with Daphne and her little sister.

Harry wondered about that for all of two minutes until he saw the way Draco was looking at Astoria.

If the gleam in Lucius' eyes were anything to go by, there would be a betrothal contract set between the two of them before Astoria had even finished school.

Harry didn't see Tom, but he tried not to let it bother him. Wherever the Dark Lord was, or whatever he was doing, Harry was sure it was important.

Rabastan and Rodolphus provided the entertainment as they got progressively more drunk throughout the evening, and Harry's ribs hurt so hard from laughing that he had to walk away to remember how to breathe.

Draco demonstrated how very much of a lightweight he was by falling, face first, out of his chair when he fell asleep sitting up. Narcissa may have taken pictures to be used as blackmail later, but Harry wasn't going to say a single word about that.

Adult or not, Narcissa would always terrify him just a little bit.

It was an amazing day, and Harry was so grateful to his family. A small part of him still missed Sirius' presence—not that he'd have been at the Manor, but he'd have made himself known during the day, Harry was sure—but it was still a happy occasion, and he'd been thoroughly distracted, and the whole time, Severus had watched on with a small smile on his face, like he couldn't quite believe that the day was actually here.

Harry had never been happier to be his son than when he saw the pride shining from his eyes while Harry laughed at Rabastan's terrible jokes.

…

Later that night, when at least half of the adults had fallen asleep after too much fine wine and whisky, Harry sat in the conservatory, looking up at the stars. He'd debated on the library, but it was a nice night and it wasn't often so clear that you could see so many stars.

A knock on the door startled him, and he turned his head to see Tom standing in the doorway, watching him with dark eyes.

"Hi," Harry greeted softly, turning his gaze back to the sky above.

"Sorry I'm late," Tom murmured, stepping into the conservatory. "I'd hoped to be back in time for your party but… honestly, I wasn't sure if you'd even want me there."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"I caused your godfather to be killed, Harry, it's not unreasonable to think you wouldn't want me around you."

Harry shook his head. "You didn't. Sirius made his own choices, and I have to live with that."

"If I hadn't—"

"Are you really going to argue with me on my birthday, Tom?" Harry rolled his neck to look at Tom again, sat in the armchair beside Harry's.

Tom glanced at his watch and smirked. "You only have eighteen more minutes to use that excuse, you know?"

"Just as well," Harry replied with a smirk of his own. "I happen to enjoy arguing with you."

Tom laughed, and then glanced at the rings adorning Harry's fingers. He had all three of them on show today, knowing he could trust the people in the house to hold their tongues until he was ready for his third inheritance to be known.

"Lord Potter-Black," Tom murmured. "Quite the title, Harry."

Harry nodded. "It's going to take some getting used to. Lucius has already spoken to me about lessons to go over etiquette in political situations. I know some, but… reading about it isn't quite the same as putting it into practice."

"You have a year before you have to worry about it," Tom pointed out. "New Lords don't debut on the circuit until they've finished their last year at school."

"I know, but next summer will be rife with it," Harry pointed out. "So I have to learn how not to incite a public feud with the wrong family before then."

"As opposed to inciting feuds with the right families?"

Harry chuckled. "Exactly." He sobered then. "If I ask you a question, do you promise not to lie to me? You don't have to answer, but don't lie."

"I promise."

"Why are you still Voldemort?" When Tom frowned slightly, Harry elaborated. "You're Lord Slytherin, and if the papers and Lucius are to be believed, you're gathering quite the fan club. Why keep terrorising the world as Voldemort?"

Tom nodded, looking thoughtful. "Because while being Lord Slytherin is part of who I am, Voldemort is as much a part of who I am. I did… so many atrocious things, Harry, and I don't feel remorse for any of them. I regret very little, and I'll continue to not regret the things I do if they move the world in the direction that I want it to go."

Harry nodded, not entirely satisfied with the answer, but accepting it for what it was. "Do you really need to keep murdering people, though?"

Tom sighed. "You're so grown up, Harry, and yet still so innocent in some ways. It's refreshing. I hope you don't lose that innocence."

A non-answer if Harry had ever heard one, and he scowled.

"If you haven't noticed, Harry, each raid, each murder, has a purpose. Voldemort attacks, and then Lord Slytherin is there to tell the masses what they need to do to fix the mistakes. Eventually, Voldemort will be able to disappear into the ether, and I'll be able to control the Wizarding World with words rather than wands."

Harry nodded slowly.

"What was the purpose of attacking Little Whinging?"

It was a question he'd wondered about since it happened, and while logically, he understood the taunt to Dumbledore, he couldn't help but think that there was a deeper reason.

"They hurt you."

Harry tilted his head. "Severus got me out of there."

"I grew up in an orphanage," Tom said, and Harry's eyes widened slightly. "And it was awful. Hearing about your treatment at the hands of Muggles… I couldn't let it go, Harry. Don't ask me to be sorry for it."

"I won't," Harry replied, because he couldn't. He himself wasn't sorry about it, though he wished that innocent people hadn't been involved.

Harry tried to stifle a yawn, but Tom's smirk told him he'd done a terrible job and he rolled his eyes. "I should go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow."

Tom nodded, and reached out to cup Harry's cheek. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry leant into the touch for a moment. "Goodnight, Tom."

…

Harry was just about done with everything by the time the will reading was over.

He'd already spent over an hour with Errongulf prior to the will reading, settling the Potter estate and updating his own will. As a Lord, to not have a will was exceedingly stupid, even at seventeen.

He'd have to do the same again for the Black estate, but he'd hoped that by fulfilling the Potter estate, it would save him time after the will, since he'd promised to attempt to get back to Malfoy Manor in time for dinner.

Given Sirius had left the majority of his family's wealth and artifacts to Harry along with the title of Lord Black and the family properties, he'd been the first to be told about his inheritance. Afterwards, he'd been asked to stay for the larger will reading as the new Lord Black, and it was dragging. For every small bequest, the beneficiary was there, and Sirius knew a lot of people.

The entire Weasley family were present, much to Harry's displeasure, along with Remus, Dumbledore, McGonagall and a whole host of people Harry didn't know. He committed their names to memory, sure that at least some of them were members of Dumbledore's Order.

Settled in his chair in the corner, Harry tried to ignore the others in the room, their exclamations and tears irritating him. He understood that they were grieving—probably even more than he himself, since many of these people would have known Sirius longer and better than Harry had—but really, did Molly Weasley have to make such a show of it, sobbing loudly and telling everyone what a good soul Sirius was?

She was just making everything harder, and Harry was hard-pressed not to tell her to hush the hell up.

Finally, Errongulf came to the last of the bequeaths, and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He stood, nodded to Remus, and swept from the room as quickly as he could.

Unfortunately, because he couldn't leave the bank without going over the Black estate, Dumbledore caught up with him before he could get out of range.

"It's important we discuss this, Harry," Dumbledore told him, voice urgent.

"If you can be quick," Harry offered eventually. "I still have business to do with Errongulf and then I have dinner to get to."

Dumbledore looked irritated at being dismissed, but nodded. "Before he died, we were using one of Sirius' properties as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Order of the—oh, the people who were fighting with you when Sirius died?" Harry asked, arching his eyebrow. "What about it?"

"I'm requesting that you allow us to continue using it," Dumbledore said, a grandfatherly smile on his face that gave Harry the creeps. "To be forced to move headquarters in the middle of the war would be disastrous for our efforts against Voldemort, Harry. It's what Sirius would have wanted."

"Don't tell me what my godfather would have wanted. If he truly wanted you to continue using the house, he'd have bequeathed it to the Order in his will, wouldn't he?"

"Harry, my boy—"

"I am not your boy, Headmaster. I'll discuss the house with my advisor and get back to you by post no later than the end of this week, okay? For now, I really have to go."

Harry turned away, shaking his head and wondering if he could get away with cursing the headmaster in the middle of the bank if only he paid the Goblins enough gold to keep a lid on it.

Deciding it probably wasn't worth it, Harry allowed himself to be led back into the private office of Errongulfand sighed in relief as the door was shut firmly behind them.

Merlin, if this was being a Lord, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted any part of it.

…

"I can't believe he actually asked you," Lucius said, shaking his head. "Is he truly senile? Even disregarding that he has no idea who your guardian is nor what side they're on, he is fully aware that you spend many of your school breaks here with Draco."

"He's desperate," Severus said, rolling his eyes. He'd been called to a meeting almost immediately after the headmaster left the bank, and had been forced to spend over an hour listening to the Order complain about the unfairness of the situation. "And not only is he desperate, but the Order is falling apart. Now that they all know that Dumbledore has a death sentence hanging over his head with the curse still affecting him, they're scrambling for who to look to as a leader when he passes."

"It'll be Moody, most likely," Tom pointed out. "He's surely got seniority over most of them; he was a pain in my ass during the last war. Kept taking out my fighters."

Harry snorted, and Tom rolled his eyes at him.

"I think you should let him use the house," Lucius said eventually. "Of course, before we agree, you'll need to do a walkthrough. A few listening devices wouldn't hurt."

Harry scrunched his nose. "Is it bad that I don't want the house? I was going to give it to Remus to do with as he wished. If you think it will help, then I'll do as you ask, but," he shrugged. "I don't want anything to do with it."

"It will mean your father can stop 'spying' for the Order as soon as the old man dies," Tom pointed out, and Harry glanced at Severus.

"If you truly don't want the house, son, then do as you need to. It's no hardship to—"

"Someone will have to teach me how and where to place the listening devices," Harry interrupted, and then stuck his tongue out at his dad for good measure. "As if you think I wouldn't do anything to make your life easier, Dad."

Severus sighed, but then nodded and smiled slightly at Harry.

"Take Draco with you," Lucius suggested, twisting his lips slightly in thought. "He's a sneaky little sod, he'll be able to find the best hiding places for the devices. We'll make them for you before you leave."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I still want to know how they work though."

Lucius grinned. "Of course you do, Gremlin."

…

"It's a bit… grim, isn't it?" Draco asked, looking around the parlour with distaste.

Harry nodded. He'd thought Sirius would have cleaned it up a little more since Harry had visited; he's said that he intended to do the whole house up.

"Perhaps, in payment for you allowing them to continue to use the house, you should tell them you want it cleaned up," Draco suggested with a cheeky grin as he turned softly, looking for the ideal place for the first listening device.

"Wouldn't that give them more chances to find the devices though? They're not stupid—or at least they're not all stupid—and you know that they'll be looking for them anyway. Tom said Moody is paranoid as hell."

Draco nodded almost absently as he eyes narrowed on a tiny nook in the panelling around the top of the room. He conjured a set of ladders—a little rickety, but usable—and climbed up them to place the tiny bug just inside it. He waved his wand to activate it, and then smiled over his shoulder.

"That's one done. Testing. Testing."

A few minutes later, a fox patronus appeared in front of him, telling Draco in his father's voice that it had worked.

They moved around the house, picking different rooms that seemed most likely to hold important conversations, including the kitchen, the library and the hallway, and placed more of the little bugs.

When it was done, Harry and Draco left via the fireplace to Malfoy Manor. Harry was glad to be done with it, and he was quite happy later that evening to send a letter to the Headmaster, telling him that the house was theirs to use. He, on Lucius' advice, included a warning against putting more wards on the place, given that it wasn't their house.

Unsurprisingly, he got a return letter the very next morning, thanking him for his cooperation, and including thinly veiled threats that they'd be seeing a lot more of each other in the coming months.

Not if Harry could help it, they wouldn't, as he read the letter and then handed it off to his dad to peruse and share with Tom and Lucius if he saw fit.

Glad that the ordeal was over with, Harry set himself to enjoying the rest of his summer. Hopefully it would be problem-free.

…

"Oh lord," Harry muttered, shaking his head at the two letters in front of him. Lucius and Severus both looked up from their breakfast in concern, while Draco shifted in his seat to look over Harry's shoulder.

When Draco let out a snort of laughter, Lucius arched an eyebrow in question while Severus frowned slightly.

Harry slid them down the table towards the two older men, scowl firmly in place. "Someone tell me how to say 'oh hell no' in a polite way, please?" he requested.

"What's got you looking so sad?" Tom asked, announcing his presence at the same time as he joined the breakfast table.

Harry simply waved his hand at the two letters Lucius and Severus were perusing. He wasn't best pleased to find that both men were chewing on their bottom lips to hold in their laughter. His scowl deepened. "Traitors, the pair of you."

"Now that he's an adult, not to mention the Lord of two houses, Harry has begun to receive courtship notices, My Lord," Lucius said, the amusement very evident in his tone. "I assume you don't intend to accept, Gremlin."

Harry threw the crust of a piece of toast at him.

"Rude," Lucius grumbled. "I'll write you a template of refusal up for this, Harry; I should have foreseen it happening, really. You'll get even more of them next summer."

"Oh, yay, something to look forward to," Harry replied dryly.

He turned to ask Tom how his evening had been, only to find him glaring at the parchment in Lucius' hand so hard, Harry was surprised it didn't spontaneously erupt into flames.

"Tom?"

"Who sent them?" Tom asked, turning his gaze to Harry. His usually brown eyes seemed redder than usual, more akin to the ones Harry expected on Voldemort.

"I don't think you need to know that," Harry replied softly. "I'm going to reject them anyway, no harm done."

"Harry—"

"Tom. You're being silly."

There was a long moment, fraught with tension, before Tom relaxed his shoulders slightly and his eyes darkened to their usual brown.

"I apologise," he said, a little stiffly. Harry nodded, and then watched as a spark of mischief appeared in Tom's expression. "Are you quite sure I can't convince you to tell me who sent them, Harry? If I promise not to kill them?"

Harry snorted. "Not killing them leaves entirely too much scope for a mind such as yours, so no deal."

"How about if I promise not to hurt them?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I… would like to know the competition, as it were."

Harry blinked, and then froze as he thought the words over, the meaning behind them clear.

Huh. Well then.

"There is none," Harry replied with a shrug and a tiny smile. "So don't worry about the names, okay?"

Tom's head tilted to the side slightly, before a pleased smirk lifted his lips. "Okay, Harry."

…

"You didn't tell him who sent them, did you?" Harry asked Lucius later, when he was carefully copying the rejection letter onto two new pieces of parchment. "I may not like either of the families, but I don't wish the wrath of His Majesty on them either."

Lucius snorted, but shook his head. "He didn't ask. I think you settled his temper rather well yourself at the table, Gremlin."

"Are you ever going to not call me that?"

Scrunching his nose, Lucius replied, "Well, I don't suppose I can call you Lord Gremlin when introducing you to the circuit next year, but when it is just you and I, or we are at home with family? I'll still be calling you Gremlin when you're seventy."

"I somehow knew that was going to be the answer," Harry replied with a grin. "You know, you're the only person to ever give me a nickname I didn't immediately hate?"

Lucius grinned. "If anyone else ever calls you Gremlin, I'll challenge them to a duel to the death."

"Bit of an overreaction."

Shrugging, Lucius said, "Perhaps, but I have to get my enjoyment somewhere. Are you done with those letters? I'll have them taken to the Owl Post by one of the elves so that they can't be traced."

Harry nodded, putting the two letters into separate envelopes and wrote both Weasley and Parkinson on the outsides. The thought of marrying into either family was grim, never mind the fact that he really didn't like either of the girls he was being offered for courtship.

Besides, he had a feeling that he wasn't interested in the fairer sex at all, if his reactions to Tom—and his lack of reaction to the females he knew—was anything to judge by.

Then again, given Tom's reaction at the breakfast table, Harry supposed that his decision was likely already made.

…

"Nine more months," Lucius told Harry as they walked through Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "And you and your dad will both be free. You've got this, Gremlin."

"What happened to not calling me that in public?" Harry asked, his lips tilting up.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I have a year before I have to call you Lord Potter; let me enjoy it."

Harry laughed as Lucius shared a quick goodbye with Draco, and then winked at the older man before he followed his best friend onto the train.

"Nine more months," he repeated to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. He glanced at Draco. "Why does it feel like the next nine months are going to be the longest of my entire life?"

Draco snorted. "NEWT's, Dumbledore, courtships and politics. Dude, it's going to feel like a lifetime."

"You should never get a job that requires you to comfort people," Harry said, shaking his head. "You're bloody terrible at it."

…

The first month passed without effort, and Harry was quickly buried in his studies, Draco alongside him and complaining about it all the way. October brought more Death Eater attacks—three in quick succession in the middle of the month—and Dumbledore sent for Harry the morning after the third.

Harry politely declined the invitation—as he had for almost the whole of the last year—entirely too busy to entertain whatever the Headmaster wanted.

It wasn't until November that anything interesting enough to distract Harry from his studies happened.

He'd had a few more courtship offers, along with two or three betrothal contracts meant for any children he might sire—and wasn't that just the weirdest thing—but he'd politely rejected all of them by return owl and heard nothing from any of the senders since.

So, a courtship offer shouldn't have been considered interesting.

And yet the name on it made Harry sit up straight and stare, because what the hell was Tom playing at?

Along with the letter, came a small box that Harry opened at the table, unthinking about the fact that eyes were on him from around the hall.

A ring was nestled on silk, shining up at him. It was clearly an heirloom, the stone in the middle was scratched in places, but it had been lovingly restored to almost perfect condition.

What was more interesting was that the ring was emitting the same feeling as the locket that still hung around his neck. Tom had sent him another of his Horcruxes.

Harry slipped the ring from the box to get a closer look at it and smiled to himself, before he put it back into the silk and closed the lid.

"You're not going to put it on?" Draco asked, when Harry cast a few protection spells around the box and put it carefully in his bag.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

"You're going to make Lord Slytherin work for it?" Draco asked, laughter soon following until he was practically cackling at the table.

Harry shoved him lightly, then tucked the courtship offer in his pocket. He was going to have to contact Tom and find out what the hell he was playing at now.

…

"Harry! Come in and sit down," Dumbledore greeted with a feigned cheer that grated Harry's nerves.

The latest letter had arrived after dinner—and Harry didn't think it was a coincidence it came on the same day as Tom's courtship request—and was much less an offer than an order to visit.

Harry took a seat, declining the food and drink offered in favour of crossing his arms and legs in front of him and waiting for Dumbledore to speak.

"Tell me, Harry, did you receive a courtship request from Lord Slytherin?"

Harry tilted his head. "I'm not sure how that has anything to do with school, Sir, so I'm not convinced it's your business."

"Harry, please, this is most important."

Sighing, Harry nodded. He knew it was likely going to be in the Daily Prophet in the morning anyway, so what did it matter to admit it?

"I have to tell you something, Harry. Something about Lord Slytherin."

"Okay?"

"He's Lord Voldemort."

Harry blinked and then snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. When he'd composed himself, he said, "I apologise, Headmaster, that was rude of me, but uh… I thought you said Voldemort wanted to kill me?"

"He does, Harry!"

"Then… why have I been spending time with Tom for over a year on my breaks and during the summer without him hurting a single hair on my head? No offense, Sir, but either your theory about the Prophecy is wrong, or your theory about Lord Slytherin is wrong. The two don't make any sort of sense together."

Dumbledore frowned. "You've been spending time with Lord Slytherin?"

Harry nodded.

"Where?"

"At Malfoy Manor. He's friends with Draco's father, Sir. It's common knowledge that I spend a lot of time with the Malfoys, so I'm not sure why it would be unreasonable to assume I've come into contact with Tom."

If possible, Dumbledore's eyes widened even further. "You call him Tom?"

"That's his name, Professor. He can hardly be expected to adhere to political titles in his time off, can he? Even Lords can take Sundays for themselves, Sir."

"I cannot stress enough how dangerous that is, Harry," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Lord Slytherin is Lord Voldemort."

"Do you have any proof of that?" Harry asked, bored of the conversation now.

Dumbledore pulled his wand and wrote Tom Marvolo Riddle in thin air and then with a wave, sat back to watch them rearrange themselves into I Am Lord Voldemort.

"Neat trick," Harry admitted. "But not really proof. You can just as easily rearrange those letters into," he paused to think. "Immortal Dove Lord. Admittedly not as frightening, but similarly lame."

"Harry—"

"Really, Sir, I'm not sure what you've got against Tom, but he's not your Dark Lord. If that's all, I really do have studying to do."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to argue and then seemed to think better of it. "If you're sure you won't believe me, Harry, I suppose you may go."

Harry walked away from the headmaster, considering the anagrams Tom could have made from his name.

Mortal Dildo Mover was a fun one, he really should have gone with that.

…

Lucius put his mask on, securing it in place before he nodded to Rabastan. "Let's go, we're ready."

They Apparated together, directly into the Atrium of the Ministry. Around them, Death Eaters appeared in twos and threes as screams sounded from the few workers still in the building.

Lucius' wand—a spare, of course—was in his hand and aimed in the direction of the closest Ministry worker, shutting her up with a stunning spell. He bound her for good measure, then summoned her wand, snapping it underfoot. While he understood the Dark Lord's order to only kill if there was no other choice—for Harry, Lucius was sure—there was no sense in leaving someone armed just in case they were freed from the stunner before the Death Eaters left.

Voldemort arrived in the middle of the pack and directed them to different floors. He kept Lucius, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Bellatrix with him, and the five of them made their way to the Department of Law Enforcement.

There were specific targets—Moody, Shacklebolt and Scrimgeour—but any blow to the Aurors could only be a good thing for future attacks. Bellatrix was practically dancing as she walked; her excitement for a good battle was palpable.

They found Scrimgeour first, alone in his office, and he was dealt with quickly, the power of five proving too much for the man. The alarm sounded as they neared the main department room, and Lucius readied himself for the fight, his blood pumping in his veins, his adrenaline high.

While he enjoyed the savagery of the Political circuit, there was just something so satisfying about a real, wand to wand, fight.

And a decimation was even better.

…

Hippy dropped off a letter for Harry before breakfast, and Harry accepted it from her with a frown, thanking her softly. He hadn't been expecting any letters from Tom, not since he hadn't replied to the Courtship offer yet.

Leaving his tie unfastened, Harry opened the letter. As he'd thought, it was from Tom, and Harry read the assurances that he, Lucius and Rabastan were all fine, so would Harry please not be mad at him with a raised brow.

What in Merlin's name had he done?

The postscript made him chuckle, and he rolled his eyes.

Was my ring not to your taste, Potter? Must I drape you in diamonds to call you mine?

"Whatever we hear about today, your father is fine," Harry whispered to Draco, as the two of them left the common room on the heels of Theo and Blaise.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Do I even want to know?"

Harry shrugged. "I know as much as you do."

Of course, it didn't take them long to find out. The front page of the Daily Prophet was emblazoned with the headline Mayhem At The Ministry.

Harry read the article with amused exasperation more than anything. While Tom's letter made more sense in context, he was still a little baffled at having received it. It was thoughtful though, and Harry wondered if it was more a way to bring up the courtship than the attack on the Ministry.

Harry really should have answered him by now. He was just… confused by it, and really wanted to talk to Tom in person about it rather than writing him a letter.

Draco rolled his eyes and folded the paper over when he was done reading. "As if we needed more proof that the Ministry is full of incompetents."

Harry snorted. It was a good point.

…

Severus sat at the head table, picking at his steak. The headmaster had informed the staff that he'd be making an announcement after dinner, and Severus was feeling uneasy about it.

Nothing good could come from Dumbledore at the moment, and he knew it wasn't going to be pretty, whatever it was.

He was just hoping it didn't involve his son. Harry was already feeling a little bit of strain with NEWTs and the Dark Lord's courtship offer—and hadn't that come out of left field? Severus hadn't been expecting it any more than his son had—and he was also already irritated with the headmaster.

Sighing, Severus glanced over his Snakes. Harry and Draco were sitting about a third of the way down the table away from Severus, Zabini, Nott, Greengrass and Parkinson around them. They seemed to be having a rather spirited conversation about something, and when Greengrass pointed to the book and Harry scoffed, Severus realised they must be arguing over a mistake in the book.

He'd have to remember to ask Harry about it later. Nothing set his son off like a mistake in a book, and it did amuse Severus to 'poke the hippogriff' occasionally.

When almost everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore clinked his glass for the students' attention. The older students in particular sat up a little straighter, glancing at each other and then at the teachers with concerned curiosity. The Headmaster only usually spoke at meal-time during the feasts.

Many of them surmised that it had to be something to do with the attack on the Ministry, given the talk over the last day had been of nothing else.

"You've all either read about it yourself or heard it second-hand that the Ministry was attacked by Lord Voldemort and his forces," Dumbledore began. Severus frowned, and noticed his son and Draco were both frowning too. "Hogwarts is the last stronghold against the Dark Lord. As such, we're strengthening the wards and blocking all entrances to the school."

Severus blinked and looked along the table to find Minerva staring at Dumbledore like he'd lost his marbles. She wasn't alone.

"You can't just lock the place down, Albus," she hissed. "The Dark Lord won't be the one banging against the wards, the parents will!"

"Hogwarts is the safest place for you to be in the current climate," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the words of his deputy. "As right here in the castle resides the prophesied defeater of Voldemort; Harry Potter."

Severus glanced at his son, watching as green eyes narrowed on the headmaster.

"I've told you," Harry called out, much to the surprise of almost everyone in the hall, "that you're wrong about that, Headmaster. I'm not prophesied to defeat anything or anyone. For you to announce such a thing is misguiding for the students. You're trying to give them a false sense of safety, and I won't have you doing that in my name!"

Severus nodded, watching his son with pride. He was glad to see that Harry would stand up for himself in public as much as he did in private, and he was pleased that everyone was seeing the headmaster for what he was.

A delusional old fool.

"You can't hold us here indefinitely," Harry added. "And if you try, I'll have you charged with false imprisonment before you can even say the word prophecy."

Standing up, Harry swept from the hall with Draco a step behind him, and Severus lips' tilted up slightly.

He'd never been prouder.

…

After Dumbledore's—failed—attempt to pressure Harry into his presumed destiny, Harry was glad to get back to Malfoy Manor for Christmas. Yet again, the headmaster was keeping Severus busy for at least the first few days of the holiday, much to Harry's displeasure.

It was nice to finally relax, though. Harry hadn't been able to relax at all during the term, especially with Dumbledore staring at him during every meal.

Tom was being more present though, which was nice. Harry had stumbled out of the fire and straight into his arms, and it seemed like the man hadn't left Harry's side since.

"We're going to attack during the spring term," Tom told him, that first night. "I wouldn't want to… distract you during the NEWTs, and if we leave it until after, Dumbledore may not even survive."

Harry sighed. "I'd still prefer you wait until after. Either way, Dumbledore is dead, right by your hand, right? Does it really matter if it's the curse already on him, or a killing curse?"

Tom grumbled at him. "You're just trying to ruin my fun. "

"If you attack the school in the spring, it's going to cause so much change and… it's not fair on the exam students."

"You could pass them tomorrow," Tom pointed out.

"As could Draco, and a handful of others," Harry agreed softly. "But not everyone could, and these students are the ones that are going to be shaping the world under your rule, Tom."

"I… despise it when you're right, Potter," Tom huffed, and Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Fine, we'll attack on the eve of the final exam. Are you satisfied?"

"I uh, have some ideas about that too."

"Of course you do."

…

"So, do you intend to accept my courtship at any point in your lifetime?" Tom asked, a few days before Harry was to return to Hogwarts.

Harry glanced over at him and sighed. They were sitting in the conservatory again, though this time with the fire lit and blankets over their laps to protect against the cold.

"I… want to know why you sent it first," Harry admitted. "You didn't even warn me it was something you wanted."

"I thought I made my intentions quite clear, actually," Tom replied softly. "Have I not been enamoured with you since the moment we met? Do I not let you get away with far more cheek than I've ever allowed anyone else?"

"I'm your Horcrux," Harry pointed out.

"And at first, that was what mattered," Tom allowed. "But Harry, it's been two years, and you still draw my attention like a moth to a flame. I feel free around you. You challenge me in ways nobody else would dare, and you're intelligent. You remind me of me, but better, because despite everything, you're still innocent."

Harry stared for a long moment, and then cursed his cheeks when they heated up. He was quite sure he was flushing brightly.

"Harry, you are… the best part of me. And I mean that both about my Horcrux and not."

Harry nodded slowly and then flicked his wand up from the holster on his arm. He silently summoned the box that held the Gaunt ring, and when it flew into his hand, he offered it to Tom.

"You're not going to make me put it on myself, are you?"

…

After the holidays, time seemed to pass in warped little pockets of studying and stress, but with the NEWTs fast approaching, Harry was trying not to think about anything but the books he needed to revise and the spells he needed to practice.

Of course, it didn't help that Ron fucking Weasley was around every corner, demanding Harry stand up to his fate and kill the Dark Lord.

Harry was absolutely done with the guy. And the stupid thing was; he understood it. If Harry was in Ron's position, only knowing half—or maybe even a quarter, given Dumbledore's skills for spinning tales—of the story, he'd be mad at Harry too.

But really, couldn't he just concentrate on the coming exams and leave Harry the hell alone?

Draco tried to intervene a few times, but only made things worse, since the two of them always seemed to rapidly devolve into throwing spells at one another.

In the end, Harry did the only thing he could. He politely pulled Ron to an empty classroom, sat him down on an abandoned chair, and told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't leave Harry alone to study for his exams, then he was going to give Weasley to the Dark Lord as a graduation gift to himself.

Ron left him alone after that.

Okay, so maybe Harry was a little stressed about the exams.

He really needed a bar of chocolate and perhaps a whole mug of whisky to settle his nerves.

…

The NEWTs were aptly named.

Harry had felt completely prepared for them, and even he was feeling the pressure from the seemingly unending slew of tests and hurried revision, with only the occasional pause for food.

Sleep became a myth that the seventh years remembered fondly but forgot how to do.

When the last exam—Charms—finally ended, Harry felt like he could lie in his bed for a week and just stare at the ceiling in between sleeping. He never thought he'd ever think it, but he needed a break from books.

Of course, with the end of the exams also came the knowledge that Tom—or rather, Voldemort—would be in the castle that evening. Against all the odds, Dumbledore was still living, albeit looking somewhat worse for wear.

While Harry would love nothing more than to skip dinner entirely and just go to bed, he knew he had to be there.

For better or worse, this was the life—and the man—he'd chosen.

That didn't mean he wouldn't make Tom pay later for making him stay awake longer than necessary.

…

A siren sounded, and the teachers all perked up, backs straightening, wands slipping into their hands, a few of them standing up.

Dumbledore's eyes were practically gleaming when the doors were flung open and Voldemort strode inside with an army at his back. Harry didn't know how they'd gotten through the wards without Dumbledore knowing, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the Shrieking Shack passageway, since Harry had told Tom of its location at Christmas.

Oops?

"I suggest the students return to their houses," Voldemort said, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore.

McGonagall took charge, the other heads of house following suit, and then the remaining teachers too, all of them hustling the children from the hall as quickly as they could.

A few of the older Gryffindors tried to stand their ground, but Harry noticed that a quick glare from McGonagall had them moving. Hell, if they couldn't stand up to her, they had no chance in a fight against Voldemort.

Tom didn't even have the freaky red eyes and his glare still made even his bravest minions hit the deck faster than Tom could say Crucio.

Harry stood, leaning against the wall as the rest of the students were hurried down to the Dungeons. Not that Tom would hurt them—or any of the students, unless forced—but they really needed the hall to be empty.

Dumbledore was trying to make himself appear intimidating, but the weakness from the curse was making itself known. He looked around the hall as the last of the students were pushed out, the teachers with them, and spotted Harry.

"Harry! You must fight him! It's your destiny!" he pleaded, and for a split second, Harry almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Voldemort turned slowly to look at Harry, and even in this guise, his eyes softened just a little and Harry knew his Tom was still in there.

He held his hand out to Harry—palm up, an offer.

"You're a dramatic shit," Harry muttered, shaking his head as he stepped forward to slip his hand into the offered one.

"Are you going to kill me, my dear?" Tom asked softly, as he tugged Harry closer.

"La petite mort, perhaps," Harry replied, with a cheeky grin. "If you're lucky."

"Harry?"

Harry turned away from his fiance to look at the headmaster. Dumbledore had paled, his wand held loosely in his hand, and Harry tilted his head a little. From the holster on his arm, his own wand slipped down into his grip.

"Expelliarmus," he murmured, smiling when the Elder Wand sailed through the air into his waiting hand. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but you made my choice for me years ago, when you gave me to a woman who preferred to lock me in the cupboard under the stairs rather than take care of me."

"You—"

"My father rescued me from that before I turned four, but the damage was already done."

"Goodbye, Albus," Tom murmured. "Avada Kedavra."

…

Following the death of Albus Dumbledore, it felt like the world had almost tilted. The public lost faith in the Minister, and he was ousted within forty eight hours. In his place, Pius Thicknesse, one of Tom's most loyal, had slipped into place.

With the right words from him and Tom, order was slowly being restored. Voldemort was still on people's minds, and he'd remain so for some time—particularly since Tom wasn't planning to give up his alter ego just yet—but slowly, people were beginning to feel safer.

Harry had graduated with the people in Hogwarts being none the wiser of what had actually happened in the Great Hall, and another realisation was made.

Dumbledore's wand was connected not only to Harry's cloak, but also the stone that resided in the ring on Harry's left hand, and between the three of them, they formed the Deathly Hallows. As Master of Death—and really, that hadn't been the fairytale Harry had been expecting to come true—Harry was no nearer to death than Tom.

Harry had never seen Tom smile so wide as when they'd found that out.

Of course, now that summer had truly arrived, Harry was being forced to put his training to the test as he arrived with Tom to the first ball of what Harry was sure would be many.

"Do try to remember these people are your peers," Tom reminded him as they stepped into the Ministry.

Still, Harry supposed, it could be worse. He could be alone. Inside the room, he knew Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Severus had already arrived.

His dad had taken up the Prince Lordship a few weeks after Dumbledore's death, and had gleefully quit his career as a Professor. He was looking forward to working more experimentally with his potions, and Harry was beyond happy for him.

"It's not like I was planning to curse anyone, Tom," Harry replied as Tom tugged him closer to the ballroom.

"Tell your face that," Tom chided, amused. "You look more willing to commit murder than I am."

"Merlin forbid," Harry muttered. He glanced up at his fiance and smiled. "Better?"

Tom rolled his eyes and bent for a quick kiss. When he pulled away, he smirked. "That's better."

"You're a smug bastard."

"I know, dear. I love you too."

"Uh huh."

---

~ epilogue ~

---

Harry was practically vibrating with nervous energy as his dad slapped his hands away from his robes, setting them perfectly for him.

"You seem excited, son," he said, a small smile on his face.

"Can you believe it's finally here?" Harry replied, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't even tried to fix it; he was quite strongly convinced that his hair was a magic-resistant entity all of its own.

Besides, Tom was fond of running his hand through it, and he'd only complain if he got product on his fingers.

"I knew you'd get here from the first moment Tom didn't hex you for being cheeky," Severus told him with a chuckle. "You've tried to give me so many heart attacks over the years, Harry Potter-Prince."

"You forgot Black."

"You don't use Black unless you're doing something official."

"Dad, I'm literally getting married. You don't really get more official than that."

"Not right this second you're not."

"Holy shit, Dad, I'm getting married!"

"There it is," Severus laughed. "You've been entirely too calm throughout this whole process. Lucius and I had a bet on when you'd finally snap."

Harry blinked and then rolled his eyes. "Of course you do, you bet on everything, and you're a pair of gossiping old biddies."

"You're not too old for a spanking."

"You've never spanked me once in my life!"

"Maybe that's why you're so bloody cheeky now," Severus retorted, before he stepped back to check his handy work. "You look perfect, by the way. Tom isn't going to know what hit him."

Harry smiled. "Can we go now? Is it time?"

Severus checked his watch and then reached out to cup Harry's cheek. "Yes, Harry. It's time. Are you ready for this?"

Harry nodded. "You made sure of it, Dad."

They walked down the stairs of Malfoy Manor and out onto the grounds. Narcissa had truly outdone herself, and Harry glanced around at her handiwork and smiled when he saw a few things that were nods to Draco's wedding to Astoria from just a few months earlier.

At the end of the aisle, Tom stood with Lucius at his side, a broad smile on his face as he watched Harry approach.

Harry couldn't quite believe that they'd made it here, if he was honest with himself, but he was glad that they had.

On Harry's side of the aisle, Draco stood, waiting to fulfill his position as Harry's best man, a beaming smile on his face as he gave Harry a sneaky thumbs up. Harry grinned at him.

Before Severus could pass Harry's hand into Tom's, Harry paused and turned to look at his father. This was the man who'd given him everything, and Harry tugged him close for a hug, burying his face against Severus' shoulder.

"Thank you, Dad. For everything."

Severus smiled. "For you, my son, nothing is too much."

---

Written for:

Writing Club:

Written In The Stars: 4. Protective

This Or That: 1. Write about your OTP

Book Club: 6. Tom Riddle: Diary / Parselmouth / Tom Riddle / Slytherin / Lying to someone.

Showtime: 7. Tired

Angel's Archive: 1. Zebra Shark: A father/paternal figure

Amber's Anime Adventure: 18. Izuku Midoriya- (color) green

Artist Appreciation: 17. Daniel: Harry Potter

Buttons: C2. Rabastan Lestrange

Summer Camp:

Sports Cabin:

Nothing But Net: Free Throw: 9. Consider

I Wanna Be A Yogi Bear: 11. Feathered Peacock Pose: Lucius Malfoy

Tug of War: 9. Genre: Family

Games Cabin:

They All Fall Down: 1. Harry Potter

Never Have I Ever: 1. Written a story over 10k

Outdoor Cabin:

Gone Fishin': 14. Trio Era

Adventure Cabin:

Wheeee: Word Count: 41,662

Knife Throwing: 23. Excitement

Skills Cabin:

Sew Cute: Step 1: Baby Blanket: Family

Cake Dates: Tiramisu: Coffee

First Aid: 4. Antibiotic Ointment: Receiving an injury

Arts Cabin:

A Little Sparkle: Primer: 5. Orange

Tye Dye Shirts: Orange: Found Family

Other:

Pop Figures: Harry Potter 10: 13. Draco Malfoy: Slytherin

365: 259. Black

Scavenger Hunt: 65. Prompt set: Black / Wingardium Leviosa / Chocolate

Fantastic Beasts: 59. Erkling: Write about someone who dislikes children