Hello people,

I hope you like this chapter. Chapter 3 is being translated and I will put it online as soon as I have it. Be patient, translating is not easy, especially if you want to make a quality translation.
Of course, you know, the characters do not belong to me (except Dementia, it's all mine!)

Thanks to Les Varioufs for translation!

Good reading

.

.

A quarter of an hour before meal time, Snape went downstairs into the living room, a book in his hand. He was surprised to see Harry sitting in one of the armchairs, watching the fire absently.

"I never thought I would live long enough to see you arrive early for something," he said mockingly.

Harry jumped slightly but didn't reply, instead looking away. Snape had just enough time to read fear on his face.

Perfect, he thought. His threats had had the desired impact. Fear was an excellent way of making people remember things.

Kookie entered the living room, looking happy; the little house elf loved the holidays, as there was always a lot to do. He laid the table in a flash. Harry noticed that it was laid for three people, but did not dare ask why.

Snape sat in the second armchair and opened his book.

11:00 came, and Snape continued to read.

At 11:30, just when Harry was thinking that it hadn't really been worth ordering him to be in the living room at 11:00 on the dot, Snape snapped his book shut and stood up.

"Let's sit down," he said severely.

Harry swallowed nervously when he heard Snape's tone of voice. Could he have read his thoughts?

"Hurry up, Harry! We've lost enough time!"

Harry frowned. "It wasn't me who read for forty five minutes," he muttered.

Snape looked up at him. "What did you say?"

Harry didn't reply. Snape violently slammed his hand down onto the table.

"I'm waiting for a reply! I do not tolerate insolence!"

"I wasn't insolent!" Harry said, forgetting to be careful in his annoyance. "You're being unfair!"

Snape slowly stood up. "Go to your room immediately."

"Oh, that's practical," spat Harry.

For a moment, it looked like Snape would yell at him, but he immediately regained his composure. He sat back down to eat his meal.

"You will go to your room and think about why you'll be punished."

All of Harry's anger was immediately replaced by fear. "What?"

"You understood me perfectly well."

"But you can't!"

"Oh, but I can. I am your father - I can do whatever I want! And I can assure you that after this, you'll think twice before speaking to me in that tone of voice again! Now go!"

Harry obeyed, terrified. He ran up the stairs and sat on the last step, incapable of going any further. He burst into tears, completely overwhelmed by panic.

Although he had been a punching bag for Dudley and his gang for years, he had never really been punished in that way by an adult who had authority over him, at least not without being able to defend himself. The idea of being hit by Snape terrified him.

He knew that he should go to his room, he knew that he was making everything worse by sitting at the top of the stairs, but he couldn't go to his room knowing what was waiting for him.

"Sirius," he whispered.

If only he could go and live with his godfather.

Suddenly, he heard Snape's voice. He was thanking Kookie for the meal and asking him to give him a coffee in twenty minutes, as he had something to do beforehand.

Harry jumped to his feet, trembling in fear. He was the "something to do". Completely panicked, he opened the door to the room on the left and rushed inside.

It wasn't until he'd closed the door that he realised the magnitude of what he had done. He had deliberately disobeyed Snape and gone into the forbidden room.

"He's going to kill me," he muttered.

No matter what he did, he just made it worse. In any case, he couldn't undo it – he could hear Snape coming up the stairs already. He was going to be furious.

A few moments later, Snape's magically amplified voice reached him.

"Harry, your attitude is childish. You have just made your punishment worse! You have five minutes to go back to your room. If you force me to look through every room in this manor to find you, you will regret it."

Harry swallowed thickly. He knew that he should obey Snape, but he couldn't. He realised that he was stuck like that, opposite the door, where Snape would have no trouble finding him. He opened the door on the left without looking around him. His mouth dropped open. It was like he had walked into the ocean. Everything, from the furniture to the walls to the lighting, reminded him of being deep underwater.

He sat between the bed and the wall, hiding himself behind some coral. He stayed there for over an hour, shocked that he hadn't been found. Snape hadn't come in and it seemed that no house elves had been ordered to find him.

At that moment, he heard the door open, and his heart leapt into his throat.

I'm dead, he thought, holding his breath.

The door separating the living room from the bedroom opened. Harry closed his eyes, biting his lip.

"Come out," said… a female voice?

He carefully opened his eyes and tried to see who was coming towards him through the coral. He could just make out a young, dark-haired woman who couldn't have been older than twenty.

"You must be Harry? Is that right? Get out of here! Who told you that you could come in?"

Harry stood up slowly, coming face to face with a sophisticated, manicured woman who didn't have a hair out of place. She immediately started telling him off again.

"I'm waiting for an explanation! Go on, say something!"

At that moment, someone knocked on the door and Harry heard Snape's voice. "Are you there?"

"I'm coming!" she shouted.

She glanced at Harry. He had turned very pale.

"You have ten seconds to persuade me."

"He's going to hit me," Harry said in a subdued voice, feeling exhausted and disheartened.

"So?" asked the young woman, crossing her arms.

Feeling embarrassed and ridiculous, Harry lowered his eyes, on the verge of tears. The young woman looked at him for a few moments and then, rolling her eyes, went back into the living room to open the door. Harry let himself fall onto the bed, trying hard to stop trembling. When he heard the door open, he pricked his ears.

"If you've come to tell me that Marc wants to talk to me, there's no point! I don't want to see him!"

"I'm looking for Harry."

"Why, have you lost him?"

"I wouldn't be looking for him otherwise."

"I haven't seen him. Is that all?"

"Dinner was at 11 o'clock-"

"I had a meeting."

Snape groaned but made no comment.

"Can I go and have a shower now?"

"Of course. I'm going to have a coffee and then go back to my research."

Harry couldn't believe it – she had covered for him!

His relief was short lived. He would have to confront Snape at some point. He felt a sob forming in his throat. Too much had happened to him in too short a time. He was also confused; everything had started well between them. How could everything have gone so badly wrong after just one comment? Tears began pouring down his cheeks.

The young woman came back into the room and sat down opposite Harry on her make-up stool, her legs crossed neatly.

"I've bought you some time. You can either convince me to help you, or you can give yourself up."

Harry told her everything in detail, starting with his arrival at the manor. He left nothing out, not even the tone he had used when he had been angry. She listened attentively without interrupting, then sighed softly.

"I think it was all my fault… It was me he was waiting for, but I had a meeting and I didn't think it was worth telling him I would be late. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Like I said, I don't look for trouble, it just happens," Harry muttered.

"Yes, but by disobeying him, you made it worse. Even if he admits that he was unfair in the beginning, he will not tolerate your disobedience and he'll punish you for that. But I'll try and calm him down first, that way your punishment won't be as bad."

Harry nodded, his breathing shallow. His fear had quickly come back. The young woman stood and tousled his hair, smiling.

"Come on, don't look like that, relax - he isn't a monster. And even if I can't get you out of it, it will only last a moment. Anyway, from what I've heard you've been through worse, so calm down."

She turned towards the door. "You can wait here if you want, or in my living room. He never comes in here, no matter what happens."

"Wait!" Harry stopped her just before she left. "I still don't know who you are."

"I'm Démi, your older sister," she said, then left.

Harry huddled up on Démi's bed. He was shocked. Snape had a daughter. And judging from her age, he must have had her when he was very young, maybe even before he left Hogwarts. He thought of the young woman. She reminded him of someone, but he didn't know who. In any case, she was lucky not to have Snape's nose! She had his dark hair and eyes, but the rest must have come from her mother. Who was she? Had he seen her, even if it was only in a photo? That would explain the fleeting feeling of déjà vu that he had had when he saw her.

Harry sighed. He felt extremely tired and was still anxious about the idea of seeing Snape. He wondered what Démi could do to calm the professor down.

oOo

Démi walked into the living room. Snape had settled himself into an armchair with a steaming mug, and still looked angry. The young woman sat on the arm of the armchair and unceremoniously took the mug out of his hands before it could even touch his lips.

"Ew," she grimaced, "have you put sugar in your coffee?"

"No one's making you drink it."

"That's good, since I'm on a diet!"

"What," Snape replied, shooting her a smile, "you put on 3 pounds since Christmas and are having trouble losing it?"

"More like I'm having trouble losing 13 stone…"

"Marc-"

"Marc!"

Kookie appeared next to them with a steaming mug containing a liquid that was somewhere between yellow and green, and held it out to Démi.

"What is that disgusting rubbish?" Snape asked.

"A purifying herbal tea."

Snape rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting. They were quiet for several minutes before Démi spoke, disturbing the silence. "Do you at least realise you're wrong?"

Snape shot her a dark look. "Where is he?"

"In my room…"

"And he's still alive," he said in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

"I felt sorry for him," she replied, shrugging.

Silence fell for a few moments.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I wouldn't be here."

"No you're not."

"Fine," she admitted after a moment's thought, "I'm very not sorry. Anyway, you're wrong."

"He was insolent."

"He's a teenager-"

"And you're only 15 minutes older than him."

"Almost 4 years," she countered, annoyed. "Stop trying to make yourself sound younger!"

Snape finished his coffee and stood up. He held his hand out to Démi to invite her to follow him. "Make him get out of your room."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're being unfair! You were angry with me and you took it out on him just because he was there."

"He disobeyed me!"

"And he was wrong to do that – I'll be the first to admit it. But he panicked. Can't you try and be a bit more… I don't know… not human – that would be impossible – but tolerant?"

Snape glanced at her. "I've already been a tolerant and understanding father, and look where it got me."

Démi rolled her eyes but held her tongue. "Look, you can punish him for disobeying you if you're that upset about the idea of forgetting about it… but don't hit him."

"Are you going to pester me until I give in?"

"Probably. He's completely terrified."

"Very well, Mrs Johnson, you win."

They walked upstairs. Making sure he knew that this was a one-off and that he shouldn't get used to it, Démi let her father go into her private living room. She pointed to a sofa and ordered him to wait there, without moving, looking around or touching anything, while she went to talk to Harry.

Wondering just who owned the manor and who was the master of the house, Snape purposefully sat in the armchair instead of on the sofa, to show that he alone was in charge of what he did.

Démi went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Hearing the handle turning, Harry's heart skipped a beat. Démi gestured for him to be quiet and cast a silencing charm on the room.

"Right, I talked to Father."

"And?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"He won't hit you. You'll be punished for disobeying him, but not like that."

Harry seemed to breathe easier and the colour began to return to his cheeks. "Thanks," he whispered.

Démi smiled at him distractedly while she took various things out of her dresser. "Ok… outside now."

He walked towards the door and put his hand on the handle. Then he froze, unable to open it, unable to move at all… Snape was waiting for him beyond that door. He gave Démi a pleading look. She sighed in exasperation and, opening the door, went out first.

"Right, let's sort this out so that I can start making myself pretty, which takes time given my genes. Father, what's Harry's punishment?"

"I'll give him some homework, probably a potion," Snape replied, ignoring the acidic remark about his genes.

"Do you feel better?" she asked Harry quietly. Harry nodded. "Perfect," she continued, her voice becoming sharp again. "Now get out."

The two wizards obeyed. Once they were in the corridor, Snape went into his room and slammed the door without a single word or glance at Harry. Harry approached his own door. His hand on the handle, he hesitated. He glanced at Snape's door.

He hesitated again.

"You're a Gryffindor," he reminded himself.

He walked decisively over to Snape's door and, before he could lose his nerve, he knocked. He heard Snape's footsteps getting closer and then the door opened to reveal the Potions Master. He raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw Harry.

"Sorry," the young man breathed, barely audible, biting his lip.

Snape stared at him for a moment without saying anything and then, well aware of the courage it must have taken for Harry to come and knock on his door and say that one word, he stood aside and waved him inside.

"Sit down," he said calmly.

Harry nodded, his throat suddenly dry – something that Snape noticed immediately.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Harry nodded but seemed incapable of starting the conversation himself.

"Ok," Snape began, "I think we can say that things got a bit difficult between us this evening."

"It's my fault," Harry whispered.

"I see. Why is that?"

"I got angry – I usually do when I don't understand something."

"I noticed that, yes. But on the other hand, I reacted a bit too quickly to a comment that was more ironic than insolent, as I first believed. And the fact that you answered back and disobeyed me didn't help. I had hoped that you would meet Démi in different circumstances."

"How old is she?" Harry asked, happy to change the subject.

"18," replied Snape, who hadn't been fooled and had no intention of letting himself be distracted. "You can get to know her better tomorrow, after your punishment."

Harry paled.

"I told you that I wouldn't hit you this time," Snape reassured him. "I always keep my promises, but don't expect me to be this lenient again. It will happen sooner or later. It might seem cruel to you, but it's an effective and quick punishment and lets us move on to other things."

Harry nodded, not at all convinced, his throat dry. He didn't have a choice – he would have to accept the situation. Snape watched him for a moment. He knew that his son would need time to absorb this information.

"Go to bed, Harry, it's very late and breakfast is at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Ok, good night Father."

"Good night Harry."

Harry went into his room, worried and frightened. He knew himself, he knew that he was incapable of keeping his calm and holding his tongue… he wondered how long it would take before that would get him into trouble, and just how painful annoying Snape would be. He was shaking just thinking about it.

He lay down on his bed. He should write to Ron and Hermione. He should tell them, explain… and more than anything, he should write to Sirius – he needed him, his advice. And he needed to see him more than he needed to write to him, no matter what it took.

No one would stop him from seeing his godfather, he decided, lying back against his pillows. Exhausted from the events of the evening, he was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

oOo

Harry awoke with a start. He glanced at his clock: 7:48. He closed his eyes… and then snapped them open. 12 minutes! He only had 12 minutes!

Having taken a shower the previous evening, he made do with a quick wash, dressed and ran into the living room, panting, at the exact moment the clock in the hall chimed 8:00. Only Snape was already seated. He looked up at Harry and frowned.

"What are you wearing?" he asked quietly.

Harry looked at his clothes: he was wearing an old and overly large pair of jeans and a t-shirt, clothes that had once belonged to Dudley. "I don't have anything else," he muttered.

"What?" Snape snapped, more surprised than angry.

After Harry had explained that his Muggle relatives had never given him anything that hadn't already been worn out by their own son, Snape allowed him to sit down and help himself to food.

"This afternoon, we're going to get you some suitable Muggle clothes," he decided.

"I don't have any Muggle money," Harry sighed.

"Don't worry about that, you don't have to pay for your own clothes."

"Thank you," Harry muttered, helping himself to some pumpkin juice.

He nervously looked at the clock (8:15) and then at the empty place at the end of the table. Where was Démi? Was the rule about being on time meant only for him?

Snape's furious glances at the empty chair soon confirmed that the rule was for everyone. At exactly 8:20, the young woman walked into the living room, looking every bit as furious as her father.

"What a nightmare," she moaned, dropping into a chair without greeting anyone.

"Let me guess," Snape said sarcastically, "you've broken a nail?"

"No," groaned Démi, taking Harry's pumpkin juice, "Marc has changed his mind – he's not agreeing to the divorce."

"Ah. These things happen," her father replied wisely.

"That bloody little toad!" Démi said, losing her temper. "I gave him the best years of my life!"

"You only got married nine months ago," Snape sighed.

His daughter shot him a dark look. Snape rolled his eyes and turned to Harry. "The first one only lasted 6 months-"

"Yes, just like how the price of everything is going up, especially cauldrons," Démi said, giving the empty glass back to Harry.

Harry bit his lip to stop from laughing. His sister's mood suddenly became calmer.

"Father?"

"No!" Snape immediately replied.

Démi stood up and put her arms around her father's neck, her tone suddenly becoming affectionate. "Dad… Dad…"

"I don't have time," he said drily, "I have to test Harry's Potions skills, and I think that will punish me just as much as him."

"Yes, but-"

"And this afternoon I have to take him to the Muggle neighbourhood."

Démi frowned. "I can't talk to him! I don't want to! If I come face to face with him, I'll lose my temper and use the Killing Curse before I can stop myself!"

"Démi," Snape said warningly.

"And," she continued, sitting back down, "I'm too busy! The publication date is two days away. Two days! And nothing is ready!"

Snape didn't reply. Harry, curious, gathered his courage and asked, "What publication date?"

"Oh!" Démi exclaimed, sitting up straighter in her chair, "only the publication date!"

"He's not interested," Snape interrupted.

"Obviously he is if he's asking!"

"Only because he didn't know what he was getting himself into."

"I'm the chief editor of a witches' fashion magazine," she continued, ignoring Snape.

"Démi," Snape said warningly.

"And twice a year, we publish the fashion trends for the next season."

"Démi," Snape said insistently.

"We publish in July for the autumn/winter season and in January for spring/summer-"

"Dementia!" Snape yelled, making them both jump. "Right," he said, ignoring Démi's glare, "I'm going to my laboratory. Join me when you've escaped the harpy's claws," he told Harry, who nodded quickly.

Snape threw his serviette onto the table and walked brusquely out of the room.

"When are you going to talk to Marc?" Démi yelled after him as he walked away.

He didn't even bother to reply. She sulkily nibbled on a piece of toast that she had taken from Harry's plate, trying to think of a way of convincing her stubborn father to talk to her equally stubborn future ex-husband.

"Dementia?" Harry snorted, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She grimaced. "Every time I complain, he reminds me that he was still at Hogwarts when I was born so he wasn't asked about choosing my name. Then he tells me he would have called me Cassandra and that I have my idiot mother to thank for my name. Crazy woman."

Harry managed to stop himself from laughing; he didn't want to annoy his sister, who was infinitely nicer than Snape.

"Who's your mother?"

He could have sworn that he saw Démi stiffen slightly before she smiled at him. "Forget about it. You don't know… I don't either, actually… right," she said, standing up, "I'm going to change and go to the office… you should go to the lab. Good luck. I know how you feel – I'm rubbish at Potions!"

Harry gave her a tense smile. He remembered that Snape had decided to punish him and wondered what was waiting for him.

"I really do attract trouble," he muttered, going into the hall.

He opened the door to the lab, went down the steps and knocked at the second door.

"Come in."

He opened the door and found himself in an exact replica of the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape, who was sorting through his jars, glanced at him.

"Would you prefer to start with theory or practice?"

Harry looked at the workbench, where there was a pile of parchment and a cauldron sitting side by side. It was like having to choose between a dragon and a Thestral. When Harry didn't reply, Snape looked up from his jars. Harry's overwhelmed look both amused and annoyed him.

"I suspect that you would prefer to work on Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I want to know where you really are in Potions. It is for your O.W.L.s after all."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Perhaps if you concentrate and Miss Granger isn't here to whisper the answers to you."

Harry blushed but didn't dare reply.

"Here are the method and ingredients, and here is a 50-question test. I will be back in three hours – you must be finished by this time."

On that note, he turned on his heel and left Harry alone in the lab. Harry sighed and opened the test. He remembered some advice that Hermione had given him; "Don't waste time. Skip questions that you can't answer immediately. When you've finished answering the questions you know, go back to the start and try to answer the others."

"Right," he said to himself, "let's try it Hermione's way."

Half an hour later, he had answered 10 questions. Trying a different version of Hermione's technique, he left the test and decided to tackle the potion.

After two hours, he started to panic. Instead of being canary yellow, his potion kept changing between dirty green and yellow. Snape was going to kill him; he'd only answered 10 questions out of 50 and he had failed the potion. Completely.

He started to feel angry. He hated Potions. He wasn't going to find them interesting now that Snape had suddenly adopted him. He sat down on a bench, resolving not to touch anything until the furious madman who was now his father came back. Half an hour later Snape, punctual as ever, walked into the lab. He frowned when he saw Harry sitting down doing nothing.

"Have you finished?"

Harry looked away and said nothing. Snape's frown deepened. He glanced at the potion and rolled his eyes. Even for an unsuccessful potion, it was a mess. And it was one of the simpler ones that he had been able to find.

Without saying a word, he sat on a corner of the table and started looking through the parchment. Incredulous, he looked through it twice more. The bloody boy hadn't even answered a quarter of the questions!

He glared at Harry. "Are you making fun of me?"

Harry shook his head, still silent.

"Most of the questions were first year level," Snape said. "You had better try them again because you are not stepping foot outside until you have answered them correctly!"

"What?" Harry exploded. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to spend my summer doing Potions! I'm rubbish at it and that's fine by me. I don't want to get a job in it. I'm not going to be like you just because I'm living with you! I don't want to become evil, bitter and greasy!"

Snape crossed his arms and looked at him. "Have you finished? Good," he said, not giving Harry time to respond. "Go to your room. I'm going to let you calm down, then I'm going to come and speak to you. Get out of my sight."

Harry slammed the door of the lab with all his strength. He did the same with all the doors that were unfortunate enough to encounter him on the way back to his room.