Harry's hands drew out a blue-green shirt, the kind with a proper collar and a row of buttons down the front. Harry tossed it over a chair and reached for a white undershirt.

After he slipped on the undershirt, he pulled on the blue-green shirt and set to work buttoning the front buttons before moving to the wrists and the tiny buttons at the collar. He preferred the softer shirts without buttons, the ones that let him work in the gardens, fly on his broom, and roam over the grounds with ease, but Snape had ordered these shirts sometime last summer and enchanted them to keep pressed and clean.

Harry supposed they must also be enchanted to adjust as he was taller and more muscular than last summer, but the shirt still fit. Snape liked him in nicer clothes, especially when they had guests, and Harry reached for a pair of dark trousers, the straight kind that didn't let him move or climb freely. Really, the only thing these trousers permitted was standing loftily, the way Draco always seemed to do in and outside Hogwarts.

Harry grabbed socks and shoes, not realizing until he had left the bedroom that he was falling back on his old habit of trying to walk down the hallway while putting on socks and shoes, an activity that usually had him tripping and grabbing for the wall several times. This time, he only bumped the wall once.

No one was out in the hallways, and by the time he reached the main stairway, he didn't see anyone besides the moving figures in the portraits.

"Very, very good," muttered the portrait of the mustached man. "Much more suitable for Snapdragon Manor."

"Still in a temper, always a temper," another portrait chimed in

He scowled in the direction of portraits, who always seemed to have sentiments about things that were not their business, but he didn't want risk making a verbal retort. The portraits had been extra opinionated ever since the prank he and Draco had played on Snape with the red and blue paint, and even though all the paint had been removed from the portraits, they acted as if he was moments away from ripping them to shreds. Rumors had reached them about the Snape-permitted tantrum Harry had thrown back January, and although Harry had only thrashed an inactive picture to pieces, the portraits were always whispering and gasping about his temper and his appearance.

One of those days, he was going to start spreading rumors about using whispering portraits as kindling for fire.

He reached the family room, but it was empty.

The desk with the curved side was still in the middle of the room, but it had been aligned beside a chair, as if trying to pass itself off as a normal part of the furniture. Harry had a wild impulse to sit on top of the table in open defiance, but he caught sight of sideboard table where tea had been set out: a stemming teapot, the usual cups, the bowl of sugar lumps, and a three-tiered tray stand with little cakes, scones, muffins, and butter pats with the raised SM on top.

He was still hungry, but Harry just huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to give in and attack the food with the same voracity he had attacked the tray of food before his nap.

The fact that he had been made to take a nap annoyed him further (though it had helped, and he felt loads better than he had that morning), and he huffed again, hoping it sounded threatening and emphatic. By everyone's account, he was the strongest, most-powerful wizard in the world, and he didn't have to wait for anyone if he didn't want –

Snape came into the room.

Harry dropped his arms by his side and stepped back before he realized he had reacted. "I -er, uh, Mione said . . ."

"Sit down." Snape moved to sit in his usual armchair.

Harry went to the chair across from him and sat down. Suddenly, his palms felt sweaty, and his heart hammered in his chest. Those countless conversations he had had with himself while out fishing in the blazing-hot mornings of Ghana, those long debates where he argued with an imaginary Snape, and Harry had come out on top every time with solid, irrefutable logic that made Snape look like a fool - a fool! All those hours of imagining what he would say and how he would say it simply disappeared. Just like the muck scrubbed off him in the tub, those conversations evaporated, and he scrambled to remember what had seemed so brave and daring alone on the ocean waters.

"I cleaned up," Harry gestured to himself.

"Obviously."

"I did what you wanted. I cleaned up, and I ate, and I slept. Just like you wanted."

"So accommodating."

"If you're just going to mock me, I'm leaving," Harry threatened, but he didn't move.

"I'm still furious at you."

The cold bluntness of Snape's tone hurt this time, but Harry swallowed his feelings.

"I'm furious with you, too."

Snape raised his eyebrows in dangerous consideration.

Harry shoved his sweaty hands down on his perfectly-straight trousers. "I can't talk when you're in the middle of a rage. You-you made me calm down to talk to you last summer. You have to do the same."

"You disappeared for seven months," Snape's face was still a mask of determined fury. "Seven months."

"You died and left me alone!" the words tore out of Harry's throat before he knew he had said them.

"I said I was sorry for that."

"I don't accept your apology!"

"I told you to let me go, but you insisted on bringing me back from being scattered."

"You promised me that I was your son and you would always love me."

"You are my son and I do love you, but I'm very angry at you," Snape kept the same hard tone.

"You threatened to rip up the papers."

"Because I was angry."

Harry could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, that same pressure that grew every time he and Snape quarreled and Snape said . . . true things. If they could just keep lying to each other, Harry was certain he could keep his composure for much longer.

"You-you shouldn't say things to me when you are angry then."

"You left me," Snape grounded out, "and then you tortured me every third night by through Legilimency."

Harry blanched, confused. "What?"

"You forced me to see you every third night. Narcissa told me to resist. She made me practice Occlumency with her, she even drugged me twice, but you were too strong and too insistence. Even if I was asleep or unconscious, you invaded my mind and made me see you every THIRD NIGHT!"

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it without a sound.

"It was relentless. Hermione and Draco both offered their magic in support to protect me, but I was afraid you would hurt them. So I braced myself and I bore it out. And," Snape leaned forward, and Harry instinctively pulled back in his chair, "in case I seem irrational, let me describe to you the sequence of events from the last fourteen months."

He paused, and Harry felt compelled to stammered, "If you have to."

"It's June. I'm sitting in my manor, all alone, and the student I dislike the most breaks through my fireplace, invited and unwanted. The fireplace is cursed, and I nurse the student back to health. Dumbledore asks me to keep the student for the summer, and I agree because I owe Dumbledore for his help in the past and I respect him. Dumbledore, not the student."

Harry wanted to scowl, but he didn't dare move his face.

"This student, a boy about to turn sixteen, proceeds to run all over my home, demanding all my time, and breaking things as he goes. I spend the entire summer watching over him as he destroys my potions closet, sneaks in a house elf, tries to time-travel, and refuses to follow any rules."

"I followed some," Harry offered, but Snape ignored him.

"Very tired with shenanigans, I agree to let another student stay here, and now both boys proceed to fight each other to the point that they physically harm each other drastically."

"I closed the door on Draco's fingers, but he almost put me in a coma."

"The summer ends, and I realize that I've grown used to having the all-consuming boy in my house, demanding most of my time. But he's matured, and I am now invested in him as a person, and in a moment of weakness I think, just adopt him and make your life easier. He's only going to grow older, and surely we've gone through the worst of the trouble in the summer."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm, but he wanted Snape to finish, feeling an almost morbid curiosity to hear Snape's view of events.

"So we go back to school, a proper Wizarding school where I am a respected teacher with a new position of teaching Defense against the Dark Arts. Mrs. Longbottom contacts Dumbledore and wants to take the position of Potions Master under a disguise. I agree, hiding my amusement because there is no possible way that the boy, just adopted and having spent a summer where he was the focus of my attention, is going to cause enough problems to need her help as well. But . . ."

The pause was so long that Harry squirmed, feeling his cheeks burn even hotter.

"But I was wrong again. The boy ignores the school rules as usual and gets himself into one situation after another. I realize this undercover bit won't work so I design a training schedule for the boy, one so strenuous and exhausting that I'm sure he won't have an ounce of energy left to cause any trouble. And for a moment, it works. And then we come home for holidays, and I think, let the boy have a little time off from his training. And he goes to Diagon Alley with his friends and starts the war."

"I was tricked into going," Harry tried.

"I realize then that I have come to love the boy as my own son to the point that I know I cannot let him sacrifice himself to the monster that killed his original parents. I take on his scar and I go to face my doom. But the boy intercedes, and I'm cast into a place of darkness where I cannot move or speak. I'm ready to fade into oblivion, but the boy shows up and says he's impregnated his girlfriend."

Harry took a steady breath and nodded in acceptance, willing the story to continue.

"I try to reason with the boy, but he doesn't listen and then brings back my body, but I and my soul are stuck somewhere else. I get reunited with my soul only to find the boy about to be torn to shreds by angry mobs. Who have also destroyed my house. Again. I take care of the mob, I reason with heads of government, I give up my position at the school and agree to house arrest. The boy, not liking my sacrifice, finds a rogue wizard and nearly sells himself to the wizard. By that time, the other boy and that boy's mother are part of my concern as well, and I decide to square off with the governmental body. I think it's wise to keep the boy in the dark as he often responds erratically in moments of political maneuvering, but I manage to get a message to him. He goes to prison, and I'm crushed, but I know I can work out a plan to gather support to our side if the boy will give me a little time, just a little."

Harry was barely breathing, and he couldn't look away from Snape's blazing black eyes.

"The boy breaks out the prison. He creates absolute havoc and then he disappears. I return home. The other boy and his mother stay with me. A friend of the boy needs a home, and I take her in. A nurse was fired because of the boy so I take her in as well. I wait to see if the boy will return, and he doesn't. I'm ready to admit I tried something that didn't work, and I must move on and forget everything about the boy and try to make a new family. But – the boy invades my head every THIRD NIGHT!"

Harry stopped breathing altogether.

"He won't leave me alone, but he won't come home, and he won't tell me anything important. We play mind games, and I swear I will stop talking to him. It's not fair that I have to be hurt over and over again when I tried so hard to be patient, and trusting, and kind. I love this boy as my own son, and he only comes home because he's dragged back by the rogue wizard who tricks him into captivity. And I'm not allowed to be angry?"

Harry felt tears welling up, but he wasn't sure who he was crying for.

"I'm not sure what angers me the most," Snape shook his head. "The fact that I allowed you to do this to me, or the fact that I cared about you in the first place. I was ready to be a father to you, and I tried my best, but you crushed me. Nothing is ever good enough for you, you spoiled, selfish boy."

Harry felt the tears spill down his cold cheeks, but then Snape did something absolutely wretched.

Snape covered his own eyes with one hand and gave a short, gasping sob. It was just a second of a sound, but the entire manor might as well have crumbled into ash in devastation.

Harry was on his feet and at Snape's side so fast he thought he had Apparated.

"No, no, no," Harry rushed out, "no, don't do that. I'm going to fix this. It will be better. I'm going to make it better."

He began patting Snape's shoulder with one shaking hand while he stretched the other towards the tea table. The magic worked instantly, and the items all zoomed over to hover in the air.

"No, see," Harry hastily poured the tea and pushed Snape back into the chair, "I'm going to fix everything."

Snape just stared straight ahead with a wounded, helpless look that would have made Harry cry more if he were not busy dumping sugar into the full teacup.

"I heard sugar is good for shock," Harry babbled. "I mean, it should be. I used to love sucking on it here, and I never went into shock while I was here."

He grabbed up Snape's hand, flinching at how cold it felt, and forced the teacup into his hand and up to his mouth. Snape did take a sip, but he didn't look any different.

"All right, eat something," Harry jammed scone in Snape's other hand. "And it's freezing in here, considering it is August. Is there a permanent chill cursed over this manor?"

He ran to the sofa and yanked the quilt off it, the same quilt Snape had made him huddle under after cold nights of training. Harry spread the quilt over Snape, tucking it around Snape's torso and lifting the cup for him to take another drink.

"It's all going to be fine," Harry was loud and insistent. "I will make all this better. I will deal with Gringwad. I'll pay him to leave us alone."

"He'll reveal you to the Ministry," Snape's words sounded dull and tired. "They'll execute you."

"Fine! I'll take Gringwad out into the wood and kill him myself. I'll bury him, and no one will know. And I'll live with the house elves and be a servant here. I'll sleep in the attic. No, find me a cupboard under the stairs. I can fit if I scrunch up and stop eating."

"You are not living under the stairs, and you are not killing Gringwad."

"I will make up a contract," Harry stood resolute in front of Snape. "I will become your apprentice. I will charm myself to do anything you order. The boy who ruined your life will be the boy who makes your life a thousand times easier!"

Snape let out his breath in a heavy sigh.

"Look, look, there is my punishment desk," Harry pointed to it. "I'll lean over it and you can wail away at me. You always feel better after punishing me."

"I do not. I'm usually still upset I had to do it in the first place."

"All right, all right, then I'll do it myself," Harry thrust out both hands. "Punish me, O Table of Righting of Wrongs, and don't stop until Snape says so."

"That's won't work. It's not a proper spell -"

Before Snape could finish, the table broke itself into strips of wood, about three inches across and fifteen inches long, and all the strips (looking like flapping rulers) flew towards Harry.

He barely had time to gasp in fear when all the rulers started whacking him in frenzy. They managed to avoid his face and his privates, thankfully, but all the rest of him was free for the taking. He felt stinging swats on his arms, hands, bottom, shoulders, stomach, thighs, knees, even his ears were boxed.

He flailed his hands to ward them off, but then they got at his underarms and ribs. The nice shirt and proper trousers were whacked without pause as Harry yelled, "Fine, stop then. I said stop!"

The barrage didn't stop.

He reached out in panic and grabbed the teapot from midair, but two enthusiastic strips whacked the teapot out of his hands and peppered his knuckles in reprimand.

Snape finally lifted his hand, with the scone still in it, and said, "Stop."

The pieces of wood flew off and dove down beside the chair, neatly assembling back into a desk again.

Harry made a face and let out an indignant, "Ow!" before turning to Snape, "See? Don't you feel better?"

Snape sighed, and Harry rushed back over.

"I told you to finish the tea. What about a potion? A potion to help you feel better about letting yourself care about someone who is barely worth the time. You've made all the potions – you must have something close to that."

"You're starting to sound hysterical."

"No, no," Harry lowered his voice to a low soothe, "not hysterical. Just calm, ordinary Harry, a little bit sore from getting smacked, but very calm. No problems, no trouble, no torturing you inside your head, just a quiet time with a well-respected teacher and a student who wants him to drink some tea."

Snape took another sip and made a face. "Why is it so sweet?"

"I'll get you another cup." Harry looked around to see the teapot smashed on the floor with tea leaking out slowly. "No worries. I can conjure food and drink that tastes almost like the real thing. I ate it in prison where I had planned to stay for a long time. Yes, I was going to, but I'm pretty sure Gringwad persuaded me to break out. He came to visit me, but I did not tell him anything."

"What was there to keep secret? You were already in prison."

"While I was in prison," Harry went on, determined to keep the steady cheerfulness in his tone, "I improved my wandless magic. No, it's a good thing because I can do chores and magic around the manor even though they took my wand."

"The wand I told you never to lose?"

"I think you're still in shock," Harry reached for the bowl of sugar lumps. "Suck on some of these and I'll find something to calm you down. What about firewhiskey? You drank that last time you felt out of control."

"When I was reading the list of all the crimes you committed during the time I was scattered. The list you wrote."

"All right," Harry knelt down and grabbed the edge of Snape's knees. "I'm going to be completely honest with you. I am a lot of work. I'm selfish, and I'm not used to being in a family. I've lived for years muddling through life, and no one cared about me. You took me in, but I wasn't willing to admit I needed guidance. I just came of age, and I'm admitting here and now that I have no idea what to do. I have these new powers, but I didn't use them when I was gone other than to find fish to sell. I don't know what they are, and I'm scared to test them. I always thought life was simple and the good guys won, but it's not and they don't. Life is messy and confusing, and sometimes you think the world is going to be amazing and full of adventure when you're out there, but you just end up missing home. I cried every night I woke up alone. That stupid hut and stupid hammock and that stupid, stupid beach! I have never been so utterly lonely than the last seven months. I'm sorry our Legilimency meetings were painful to you, but they were the only thing keeping me alive."

Snape just looked at him, expressionless.

"All these years I thought I was grown up and could take care of myself, but I finally realized that adulthood is so lonely. I used to imagine you would show up on the beach and insist on taking me home because you had come up with a new plan. I made myself work and be active all hours of the day so I never had to sit and think about how much I hated being there. I don't care what you do now. Marry Narcissa. Adopt Draco. Research with Hermione. Contract me out to Gringwad, take me back to prison, torture me all you like. Just please, please let me be your son again."

Silence.

Harry let his forehead thud against Snape's knees. "Please, please, please," he whispered as the silence roared in his ears.

Nothing, and then a hand touched the top of his hair. The hand pushed down his unruly hair.

"It never will lie flat," Snape murmured. "A disappointment in such a promising boy."

Harry gave a hoarse sob, and he broke into real crying as Snape leaned forward and pulled him closer.

"Shh," Snape hushed him. "Stop crying. You're still my son."

"I don't deserve it," Harry choked. "I've been awful, and-and you were so good to me."

Another deep sigh, and Snape was standing up, gathering Harry to his feet and then coaxing him to sit down in the other armchair. Snape even put the quilt over him and ordered, "Take deep breaths," before stepping to cabinets beside the mantel. He pulled out a vial, shook it, uncorked it, and handed it to Harry.

"What?" Harry blinked through his tears.

"It's a calming drought. Ever since you destroyed my potions closet, I've hidden potions all throughout the manor. You can't break them that way, and they're on hand when I need them."

"I don't deserve to feel better."

"I didn't ask what you deserved. I'm your father, and I'm telling you to take the potion."

Harry raised it up and swallowed it down, ignoring the last few tears that fell.

"Are you hungry?"

At Harry's nod, Snape moved to the tea table and put food on a plate. A house elf brought another pot of tea, and Snape handed Harry a cup, commenting,

"And just one lump of sugar for you. Because sugar is not good for shock. It makes people jittery. Do shocked people need to be jittery?"

Harry didn't answer, preferring to concentrate on eating. The calming draught made him sleepy, but he glanced up to ask,

"What are we going to do with Gringwad?"

"We're not killing him," Snape poured himself a new cup. "He insists that he gets the reward money, but I don't have 50,000 galleons lying around as of right now. The earliest I can go to the bank is tomorrow, so he and Narcissa are deciding which room he should occupy for the night. Odd, isn't it, that I told -"

"Please don't say that you told the boy to stay away from the rogue wizard and now the boy's brought the rogue wizard to the house."

"It's true," Snape took a sip of tea.

"It might be true, but you don't get to call me the boy anymore. It's Harry or 'my son' for you."

"And?"

"I think of you as Snape sometimes, but I will only address you as Dad. I've done it before. And that doesn't solve what we do with Gringwad."

"There are several ways to deal with him and his silly contract quite effectively."

"Really?" Harry perked up. "How?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, the question part of this afternoon is over. If you can behave for the rest of the day, I might let you join the adults at the table for dinner. Am I understood?"

The old defiance rose up inside him, but Harry took a swallow of his now-tepid, barely-sweetened tea and said, "Yes, Dad."

"And you will be on your best behavior?"

Looking down, Harry saw that he was holding the yellow teacup, the one he always chose at night. He wondered if anyone else had been allowed to use it while he had been gone. "Yes, Dad," with earnest promise.

"Welcome home, Harry."