Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 26: Molly-Coddling

Bill Weasley had seen a lot of strange things in his life, but the sight of Professor Snape (of all people) walking into their Quidditch pitch carrying an unconscious child was just about the oddest thing ever. Only the Professor's nasty quips and snarls had convinced him it wasn't a heat mirage, but still. What was Professor Snape doing in their area with a kid anyway? He ran to the house after apparating on the Professor's orders, and burst in the front door.

"Mum!" he hollered. "You in here?"

"In the kitchen, love!" Mrs. Weasley shouted back. "And close the door, you're letting in the flies!"

Bill slammed the door behind him and marched into the kitchen. "We have a problem," he said briskly.

"What happened?" his mother demanded, spinning around from the stove, waving a dripping spoon at him. "If you boys put Percy on a broom again and broke his –!"

"No, Mum, nothing like that," Bill interrupted impatiently. "We've got guests."

"Guests?" Mrs. Weasley echoed, frowning. "Did you invite someone over and forget they were coming?"

"No, Mum," Bill groaned in exasperation. "It's Professor Snape. And some kid."

"Professor Snape," his mother repeated as if he was joking. "Your old Potions Professor from Hogwarts?"

"Yep," Bill said cheerfully. "So where should we put them? I can sleep on the couch and Charlie can squeeze in with Percy if we give them our room …"

"Merciful heavens!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, tossing her spoon onto the counter and wiping her hands on her apron. "Why in the world did he come here, then? Bringing a child too! This just won't do, it won't do at all. The house is a mess and we're only having shepherd's pie for supper!"

"I'm sure he won't care, Mum," Bill said in exasperation. "He looked half-dead and that's the truth. The boy he was carrying looked … sick. He wasn't moving and his face was all flushed. I don't think I've ever seen Professor Snape worried before, but …"

Mrs. Weasley looked thoughtful for a bit before she nodded briskly. "Right," she said firmly. "Bill, you get your wand and tidy up your bedroom, see if you can change the sheets too. I'll set the living room to rights and fetch the medicine chest. Are they walking up?"

"I guess so," Bill shrugged. "I've never exactly seen Professor Snape on a broom, and he'd probably fall over if he tried to ride one now, the way he looks."

"Dear, dear," Molly fretted. She flapped her hands at her eldest son. "Well, go on then! Get your room ready and change those sheets!"

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Severus stopped in horror at the sight of the house before him. It was a monstrosity of unplanned recklessness; a crooked house made of three different materials that more closely resembled a child's imaginative drawing than a proper home.

For some absurd reason, Lily's laughing voice almost seemed to chant in the recesses if his memory:

There once was a crooked old man who lived in a crooked old house with a crooked old cat. The crooked old cat caught a crooked old rat for the crooked old man and they all lived together in the crooked old house.

He had no idea where Lily had learned such an absurd bit of poetry, unless she made it up, but this crooked cottage, three stories high and teetering on the edge of collapse, would have made her laugh, he was certain about that. He glanced quickly at Charlie, still holding Harry and still striding along as if the boy weighed nothing in his arms. The twins had their heads together, but judging from their furtive glances and muffled giggles, Severus Snape might have to show them early why he was the most feared teacher in Hogwarts. The youngest boy looked scared of him, and rightly so, and since his whining earlier in the clearing, he hadn't said a word. His freckles looked rather dark on his pale face.

"Welcome to the Burrow!" Charlie called cheerfully over his shoulder. "Percy, get the door, would you?"

But even as the bespectacled Weasley moved to obey his brother, the front door banged open and Mrs. Weasley bustled out. Severus thought the years had surely been better to her than they had to him. The last time he'd seen the woman, she had been slightly thinner and more serious. Now, she was beaming at them all, the very picture of ideal motherhood. She was slightly plump, red-faced from exertion, wearing a neat house-dress and apron, and her red hair was tied back in a neat bun, from which curls escaped and framed her round, smiling face in a rather becoming manner. Severus wondered why he felt a pang of irritation when he looked at her, and then he remembered that he felt that way around nearly all the mother-hen types. She would mollycoddle him until he screamed for mercy, and he would remember everything his own mother had not done for him and he would get even more irritable with his own irritation. Severus sighed silently, reminding himself that he didn't have a choice, and it was for Harry anyway. The boy could use some mollycoddling right now.

"Professor Snape!" Mrs. Weasley cheered. "What a surprise! Come right in. Mercy, but you look dead on your feet!"

"The boy needs a dim room and water," Severus replied in a politely dry tone. "He is dehydrated and suffering from heatstroke."

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Weasley said, looking suitably worried. "Just take him up to your room, Charlie, there's a good lad. I think Bill fixed your bed for him. The Professor can take the other."

Severus balked at the door. "I beg your pardon," he coughed. "I am not staying the night. I have matters to take care of …"

"Oh no, you don't," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, shooing him inside and herding him toward the stairs. "Our home is yours for as long as you insist on competing with a corpse for looks. You go on up those stairs right now and get washed up. The bathroom's the first door on your right once you reach the landing. Go on!"

Severus' protests fell on deaf ears. The capable woman herded him up the stairs and shoved him into the bathroom, where to his mortification, shampoo, soap, and even a set of clothing had been left out. He curled his lips in disgust and petulantly folded his arms, his skin crawling with apprehension.

"I am not one of your children that you can simply bully me into obeying you, Mrs. Weasley," Severus said in his coldest sneer. "I do not require the services of your bathroom, and I do not require lodgings. I merely ask that you care for the boy and allow me the use of your floo, and I shall make it worth your time and resources."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley said shrilly, giving him a very strong push into the bathroom, smiling triumphantly when he, in his weakened state, stumbled back and had to grab the sink to keep from falling over. "I'm not one of your students that you can intimidate me that easily, Severus Snape," the Weasley matriarch informed him firmly. "Now you wash up and refresh yourself, and then you can have a lie-down until supper. After you've rested and eaten, we'll see about you using the floo." She grabbed the door to shut it on his astonished face and gave him a kindly wink. "And call me Molly, dear."

And with that, she closed the door, locking him in the bathroom. Severus just glared at the door for several minutes before he realized that he really was tired and sore. A bath sounded excellent right about now … but not in a stranger's bathtub, surrounded by current and future students of his. It had to be … inappropriate somehow.

Grumbling and arguing with himself, Severus turned on the shower instead of the main faucet and was glad that hot water came out right away. He was rather filthy from his recent trials, and it wouldn't do to give the wrong impression to his hosts. After all, if they thought he was deranged or something, they might go to Dumbledore, and that could definitely wait until he was strong enough to fight back against the cunning old man. He moved to unbutton his shirt when he had the uncanny sense that he was being watched. Jerking his head up, he yanked out his wand, eyes darting around the bathroom. It was a small room, old-fashioned and rather shabby, and there were no peeping holes or hiding places that he could see. Even so, he scrutinized the room one last time … and his eyes fell on the culprit.

It was a plump brown rat on top of the bathroom cabinet. Grimacing in disgust, he left it alone and put his wand on the sink. He hated rats, but he couldn't spare the magic to kill it or banish it right now. Rodents were simply vile and disgusting, and he wished he knew where to find a good cat right now. Giving the creature a glare that sent it scuttling away, Severus got into the shower, attempting to convince himself that he was only doing it because Mrs. Weasley looked like the most stubborn witch on the planet and not because getting clean seemed like such a good idea right now. After all, he had to maintain a civil relationship with the Weasley matriarch if he wanted Harry to stay safe here. Even Albus Dumbledore would have a hard time taking the boy from that woman if this was any indication.

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Harry woke up to a dry mouth and a raging headache. His ears were ringing, but as he focused on trying to wake up, he heard a lady's voice gently calling him.

"Come on now, love; wake up," she called. Her voice was not familiar, and neither were the smells that surrounded him. There were strange things he had never smelled before, and the lady near him smelled like baked bread and spices. It wasn't like the antiseptic smell of the nurse lady at Hogwarts, or the pine-needle smell of the lady Professor friend of Professor Snape's. With effort, he cracked open his eyes, and had to slam them shut again because it was too bright.

"There's a good lad," the lady crooned softly. "Come on now, open those eyes." A shadow fell across his face and he was able to squint. The lady standing over him was plump, in a comfortable kind of way that would horrify Aunt Petunia. Her hair was a nice shade of golden-red and looked curly. Her blue eyes were sparkling with kindness and concern, and she was smiling at him as she blocked the sunlight from the window. He was in a narrow bedroom he had never seen before, and he felt a jolt of panic as he wondered where he was.

"Wha …?" he managed to say. Not very intelligent, and his throat scratched like sandpaper. He felt nauseous and dizzy and his head was banging.

"I'm sure you're thirsty," the lady said cheerfully, beaming down at him with that nice smile of hers. "Why don't you try to take a few drinks of this, alright?" The lady turned aside and helped him sit up a bit, guiding a glass of water to his dry mouth. The water tasted vaguely sour, like lemon juice had been added to it. To his surprise, it felt terribly nice to his parched tongue and throat. He eagerly drank until half the glass was gone, and to his relief, his pounding headache was a bit less.

"Th-thank you, lady," Harry rasped. He turned aside and coughed, and the lady helped him sit up all the way. She rubbed his back until his coughing fit ended, and helped him drink some more water. Now that he was sitting up and awake, Harry looked around the room. His gaze fell at one on another bed across from his own, and the man lying on it.

"Professor?" Harry whispered, his heart spiking with panic.

"He's fine," the lady soothed him. "He washed up and now he's taking a rest. You've rested, and now it's time for you to have a wash, alright?"

Harry nodded obediently. He was feeling too dizzy and disoriented to argue. The lady helped him off the bed and guided him up a narrow hallway to a bathroom. She sat him on a stool near the sink and ran the bathwater. Harry rubbed his aching head and yawned so hard he almost cracked his jaw. When he blinked the moisture out of his eyes, he noticed a fat rat hiding between the toilet and the sink-counter, blinking at him. He shuddered in revulsion and kicked out at it.

"Shoo," he hissed at it. He hated rodents, thought mostly because he had to handle the mousetraps at his relatives' house.

"Something the matter, dear?" the lady asked in concern.

"N-no ma'am," Harry blushed. He tried to kick the rat again and it scuttled away behind the toilet so it was now under the claw-footed bathtub. "It's just … you've got rats," he said flatly, and tried not to shudder again.

"We do?" the lady asked, sounding surprised. But then she noticed the rodent cowering under the tub and laughed. "Oh, that Scabbers!" She snatched the rat off the floor and the creature didn't even squeak or struggle. Harry watched with an open mouth as she opened the bathroom door and dropped the rat out into the hallway. "Percy!" she shouted. "Your rat was in the bathroom again! You keep an eye on him or out he goes, do you hear me?"

She slammed the door with a satisfied expression on her face and returned to the tub. She dumped some bottles into the water, the way the Professor had when Harry took his baths at his house. "You don't like rats, dear?" the lady asked in concern.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really," he said quietly. "Um … y-you don't really have rats?"

"No, just the one," the lady chuckled. "Percy was pining for a pet and came in with the rat. It's remarkably tame and gentle … for a rat. But it's got a fascination with the bathroom. Alright, love; the bath's all ready. Want to get in now?"

Harry gingerly stood up and had to brace himself against the sink while the world spun around him. The lady was suddenly at his side, crooning comforting words in his ear and trying to get him to take his gritty T-shirt off. He hadn't taken it off in days, but he sure didn't want to take it off now. The lady would see his ugly scars and she might get mad or something.

She stopped when she sensed him squirming in an effort to get away from her, and she gently turned him around, peering into his face worriedly. "Listen, dear," she said gently, smoothing his hair back from his face. Her gaze stopped on his forehead and her eyes widened just a bit. Harry wondered if she was going to say something about his weird jagged scar, and was grateful when she just kept talking like nothing had happened. "I've got seven children of my own, and I've bathed every one of them. You're in no fit shape to wash yourself, but you'll feel much better if you get all clean. Will you let me help you?"

Something about her gentle, understanding voice and in her soft, caring gaze melted Harry's resistance. He wondered if this was what having a mum felt like. He nodded silently and stepped back so he could take his own shirt off. When he yanked it off, she gave a little gasp, but quickly smothered her shock behind an encouraging smile. Harry felt his face getting hot, but since she was busying herself with arranging the shampoo and the soap, he was grateful. A hot bath really did sound like the best idea in the world right now.

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Severus Snape decided that this was the reason all Professors ate at a separate table in Hogwarts' Great Hall. The Weasleys were all Gryffindors, every blasted one of them, (besides the children not yet in school, of course) and they ate like ravenous monsters while simultaneously talking at the tops of their lungs and laughing louder. Severus was sure he was going to be ill, just from sitting at the same table as seven hollering children and their oblivious parents. Mrs. Weasley, (he absolutely refused to cave in to her affectionate bullying and call her 'Molly') bustled about, seemingly never still. She brought things from the kitchen, whisked dirty dishes away almost before her brood was finished with them, and hurried up and down the stairs, reporting that Harry was asleep and seemed fine.

Apparently, while Severus Snape slept in the land of the dead after his shower, Harry had woken up, but seeing his Professor in the other bed, he had allowed Molly to feed, bathe, and medicate him. He was now lost to the world, sleeping blissfully despite the natural disaster that was the Weasleys shaking the house up to the rafters.

After spotting their formidable Professor sound asleep in their older brothers' bedroom, apparently the Weasley children had completely accepted him as one of their own; hence, their complete and utter abandon of all sense of propriety and decency at the dinner table. It was almost a parody of the Gryffindor Table at Hogwarts. Noise, noise, and more noise, pounded on Severus' head until he was sure he was going to lose his mind, and what little food he had managed to swallow as well. He fought the urge to scream at them all and take fifty million points from Gryffindor while assigning the school children to ten years of servitude under Filch. He thought he had been doing quite well, until Mr. Weasley, a thin, cheerful man with a balding head of red hair and eyes that twinkled worse than Albus Dumbledore's, nudged his arm and asked him to pass the peas. Severus actually flinched at the man's voice so close to his ear, and directed at him instead of over him.

Slowly, the Potions Professor turned to face Arthur Weasley, as any sharper movement would make his head explode. "Do tell your brats to shut up," he hissed barely above a whisper. "Before I do something drastic."

Mr. Weasley's eyes popped wide open in surprise at his tone and demand, but he obeyed. Severus was almost amused that simply tapping his water glass with his spoon caught the attention of all his jabbering children. "Why don't we settle down, alright?" Arthur said in a kindly, but firm tone that rather relieved Severus. He had been hoping that the man would be a bit better about putting his foot down than Albus usually was. "Professor Snape has had a long day, and I think we're all giving him a headache," Arthur went on, earning Severus Snape's iciest glare. But the children quieted down, seeming to finally remember who exactly it was that was sitting at their table. They cowered once again and avoided looking at him, which was just how Severus liked it.

Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen with the pudding and seemed shocked to find everyone so quiet. "Did I miss something?" she asked curiously, setting the two dishes of treacle pudding down where everyone could get them.

"The pudding looks fantastic, dear," Arthur said enthusiastically, scooping out a good helping and plopping it on his little daughter's plate. She was the only girl in a family of six brothers, and out of all of them, she had actually been rather quiet during their meal. He had missed her full name, but everyone called her Ginny.

"Arthur?" Molly Weasley prompted, slapping one of her son's hands away from getting a third scoop of pudding.

"Only that the children were about to give Professor Snape here a stroke," Mr. Weasley chuckled. He turned to the Potions Professor with an apologetic shrug. "It's a bit much to get used to, I'm afraid. Seven children all at once can get a bit noisy, but I suppose you know that from teaching a few hundred of them every year, eh?"

"Professors do not sit at the House tables, and now I am quite certain that I never shall," Professor Snape said between clenched teeth, fighting his temper and the pain of his headache. It was too much, even with the children quiet now. The very stillness beat against his eardrums with a deafening agony. "Excuse me," Severus gritted out as he stiffly got up from his chair, leaving his plate half-full on the table. Nobody said a word as he left the dining table and went to the stairs.

It wasn't at all hard to navigate in the narrow house. He climbed the staircase and found the bedroom he and Harry were staying in. Once he closed the door and sat on the bed, he could massage his throbbing temples in peace. The room was dimming as the twilight faded and Severus groped for the lamp. At feeling the warmth of his hand, the lamp's crystal began to glow, filling the room with soft light like a candle's. Severus got up and shut the curtains, suddenly wondering if Black would follow them here. He was almost too tired to care, though.

He paused over Harry and gazed down at the sleeping boy. He was looking better, but he still had a fever and Severus didn't like the idea of moving him anywhere soon. Hopefully they would be safe here for awhile. Severus absently rubbed the silver bracelet on his wrist in agitation. He hadn't even been able to slide it off under hot water with plenty of soap. He was quite certain that Albus Dumbledore could take it off, but he still didn't want to go to the old man yet. He would have to see if the Weasleys could get it to come off. He pulled the chair from the desk and set it next to the bed Harry was sleeping in. Severus sat down and rubbed his aching head.

He waited by the child's bed for over an hour, listening to the noise level downstairs gradually increasing again until it was quite as loud as it had been before, but the closed door helped. When some children went pounding by on their way upstairs and the rest apparently settled down elsewhere, Severus was finally afforded some peace. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined him in the room soon after the house quieted down.

"I'm sorry the noise bothered you so much, Severus," Mrs. Weasley apologized as soon as she bustled in with some food and potions for Harry on a tray. "It does take some getting used to, but once you do, you barely notice it."

"You mean you barely notice it," Severus grumbled, barely looking up. "I teach dunderheads ten months out of every year and I most certainly do notice their babble."

"They're just children," Mr. Weasley commented as he shut the door behind them and put up locking and silencing charms. In answer to Severus' suspicious glare, he shrugged. "It's just to keep our little eavesdroppers and well-wishers away."

"Fred and George especially," Mrs. Weasley snorted. "Here you are, dear. A headache draught."

Severus glared at the bottle of silvery potion in her hand and shook his head in disgust. "I don't need it," he said coolly. He never took potions except ones he brewed, unless he had no choice. Besides, he needed a Migraine potion, and those tended to put him to sleep when they were brewed imperfectly. He had too much to do tonight to afford that.

"Now, Severus," Mrs. Weasley huffed, her lips pinching in disapproval.

"I said no, thank you, Mrs. Weasley;" Severus gritted out. "I need a migraine potion, not a headache draught, and I refuse to take any potions that I did not brew myself."

"Humph, well …" the Weasley matriarch muttered to herself as she put the bottle back in her pocket and ran diagnostic charms over Harry. The glowing runes that hovered over his body were different from the typical conjured parchment that appeared for the more common charms that medi-wizards and healers used and Severus watched with interest. With a wave, Mrs. Weasley banished the glowing lines and tapped Harry on the shoulder, looking satisfied.

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Harry blinked, wondering what had woken him up, until he felt the gentle hand tapping his shoulder again. Yawning, he stretched and rolled over, blinking up at the nice lady who gave him a bath and made him drink medicine and broth earlier today, and at his Professor.

"H'llo, lady," Harry mumbled sleepily.

"How do you feel?" the Professor asked before the lady could say anything.

Harry yawned again and blinked up at the man's worried face. He looked awful, with the dark circles under his eyes and how pale his face looked. "'M okay," Harry answered with a sleepy grin. "Is it time to wake up?"

"It's time to eat some supper and take some medicine," the lady answered quickly, before the Professor could reply. "I don't believe I introduced myself earlier, dear, but I'm Molly Weasley. You can call me Molly, alright?"

"Um, okay," Harry answered uneasily, a little bewildered. He never usually called adults by their first names. It just wasn't proper. He glanced at the Professor and wasn't surprised to see his face pinched in that annoyed way of his. While Mrs. Weasley helped him sit up, he watched the Professor, and the other strange man in the room. "Professor?" Harry asked timidly. "Where are we?"

"We are at the Weasleys' home," the Professor replied in a clipped voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were kind enough to welcome us in. You are quite safe here."

"What about you?" Harry asked, wondering why the Professor said 'you' are safe, not 'we' are safe.

"I will be going back to Hogwarts soon," the Professor answered, standing up and moving back so Mrs. Weasley could put a tray of food on his lap. Harry stared at the plate of food and bowl of pudding. He wasn't even that hungry. He felt fine, just tired. He glanced suspiciously at the glass of thick orange drink and wondered if it was juice or more medicine.

"Why're you leaving?" Harry asked as he accepted his fork and stared in bewilderment at the three bottles in a row above his bowl.

"I have errands to complete," the Professor said impatiently. "I would not leave you here unless I was certain you would be safe and well-treated here."

"Okay," Harry mumbled. He wasn't sure why he felt confused. The Professor had already done so much for him, and he had his own work to take care of.

"I only waited until you woke and I was certain you were alright," the Professor said more gently. "Heatstroke must not be taken lightly."

"Is that why I got so dizzy and fell?" Harry asked, looking up and wrinkling his forehead as he tried to remember. "Where's Snuffles?"

"I don't know and I don't care," the Professor grumbled. "Now if you'll just eat your supper and take your medicine, I will be back soon. I have something to discuss with Mr. Weasley."

With that, the Professor turned on his heel and left the bedroom, herding the other man out with him. Mr. Weasley looked nice; not at all like Uncle Vernon or other men he'd met. He had a nice smile and he moved gently, like he was used to kids and liked them.

"Harry, dear, you ought to drink your potions first," Mrs. Weasley said gently.

Harry turned his attention back to his medicine and made a face. He remembered all too well what the Professor's potions tasted like. "They taste yucky," he groaned.

"I know they do, dear," the lady answered sympathetically. "Drink them quickly, and then you can wash them down with pumpkin juice."

Harry glanced at the cup again and wondered if 'pumpkin juice' tasted better than it sounded. Grimacing, he dumped the three potions down his throat and grabbed the glass, not really caring what it tasted like now so long as it could get the taste of old socks out of his mouth. It was pleasantly delicious and cool and he drank more of the fruity juice than he meant to.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled at his expression and reached out to tuck a napkin into his pajama shirt. "Don't worry about it, love; I can fetch you more juice if you like."

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered shyly. He picked his fork back up and poked at the shepherd's pie in his plate. "Is … is the Professor sick?" he asked softly, glancing up at the lady's nice round face.

"I don't think so," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "But I wish he would rest. I don't believe he has slept properly for days."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"He should be, dear; try not to worry, and eat your supper. You're looking even sicker than your Professor."

Harry grimaced at the comparison, but he obeyed and ate as much as he could. The lady bustled around, humming as she straightened the room. Harry wondered whose room he was in, since it didn't look like a guest room. There were odd rectangular stains on the walls where posters might have hung, the bookshelf was filled with books and some dragon figurines, and the desk was covered in what looked like schoolbooks that had been hastily stacked and shoved to the side to make it look neater. He remembered what Mrs. Weasley had said about having a son who had the pet rat and giving seven kids baths. Maybe the other kids would play with him!

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry spoke up timidly.

"Yes dear?" The lady smiled as she looked over at him from where she was dusting the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. "And I told you to call me Molly, remember?"

Harry squirmed and looked down at his tray. "I c-can't," he confessed hesitantly. "M-my Aunt Petunia says it's not polite to call adults by a first name."

"Well, why don't you call me Aunt Molly then?" Mrs. Weasley suggested, coming back to his bed and gently cupping his chin in her soft, gentle hand. She tilted Harry's face so he had to look up at her. "Aunt Molly is easier to say than Mrs. Weasley, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry smiled shyly. "Yes ma'am," he whispered. "Aunt Molly, I mean."

"There's a good lad," Mrs. Weasley, well … Aunt Molly, said happily. "Now, you need to finish that plate if you want your pudding, understand?"

Harry nodded obediently, but he put his fork down. He was too full to even think about pudding, though looking at it made his mouth water with longing. "I'm not hungry anymore, Mrs. … I mean, Aunt Molly."

"Are you sure?" Aunt Molly fussed. She felt his forehead, clicked her tongue, and ordered him to at least finish his pumpkin juice. Once he did, she gathered up the tray and fluffed his pillows behind him. "Are you tired, Harry?" she asked briskly, as she straightened his covers over his legs.

"N-no, ma'am," Harry stammered. "Do I have to stay in bed?" he asked in alarm.

"Your Professor was quite correct when he said heatstroke is nothing to joke about," Aunt Molly said sternly. "You will stay in this bed until tomorrow, and you will most certainly rest until that fever of yours goes away, understood?"

Harry nodded meekly and glanced longingly at the shelf of books. If he was going to be stuck here until tomorrow he may as well have something to do. In his cupboard, he had cried from boredom more than once, especially when they took his lightbulb away and he couldn't read or do his homework.

"I've a better idea," Aunt Molly chuckled in response to his longing look. "I've got seven children in this house eager to get to know you. Have you ever played Exploding Snap?"

"No," Harry answered curiously. "What's that?"

"You'll see," Aunt Molly chuckled, tucking the covers neatly around him and taking the tray. "I'll send some of them in, alright?"

Harry nodded eagerly as she left the room, and this time, she left the door open. He had caught a glimpse of red hair earlier today when Aunt Molly took him to the bath. It had been a little embarrassing when the lady insisted on washing him like a toddler, but it felt nice to relax and not worry about anything. The Professor was safe, and sound asleep. Snuffles was gone, but he was sure his dogfather would find him eventually. For now, Harry knew he was safe here with this unusual family.

Harry glanced up and felt an unpleasant jolt in his stomach as he wondered if he was seeing double. Two grinning boys, a few years older than himself, were peeking into his room, and they looked exactly the same, from their twinkling blue eyes to their messy red hair right down to the color of their T-shirts.

"Hullo!" they both announced cheerfully, their voices blending perfectly in a weird echo of one another.

"Mum says you wanna play exploding snap," the boy on the right announced.

"And that you've never played it before," the other boy added, holding up what looked like a worn pack of cards.

Harry nodded silently. "Are you twins?" he blurted out, feeling stupid that he hadn't figured it out before.

The boys burst out laughing and Harry felt his face flush in embarrassment. But he soon realized that the twins weren't laughing to be mean. They launched themselves into the room and climbed on his bed, still grinning and chuckling. Another boy stuck his red head into the bedroom and sauntered in. He was a good deal older than Harry and he was stockier than the skinny twins.

"How d'you like my bed?" the teenager asked cheekily, sitting in the chair that the Professor had used.

Harry just gaped at him. He had taken this boy's bed? He didn't know, and he was sorry, but he wasn't sure what to do about it …

"This … is your room?" Harry squeaked.

"Yep, you're in Charlie and Bill's room," one of the twins informed him.

"You're in Charlie's bed …" the other one babbled.

"And Professor Snape's using Bill's bed …"

"And you two need to knock it off," the older boy announced, cutting off the twins' rapid sentence construction. "You're gonna give the poor kid a broken neck the way you go back and forth."

Harry looked at him incredulously, wondering if all Aunt Molly's kids were this odd.

"I'm Charlie," the stocky boy announced with a grin. "I carried you from the Quidditch clearing."

"…Oh," Harry announced stupidly. "I'm … Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Charlie chuckled. "Those two monkeys are Fred and George. Don't even bother trying to tell them apart because not even Mum can; and they're always switching to take the mickey out of us."

"Oy! It isn't our fault …"

"That you can't tell us apart!"

Harry burst out laughing. The twin looks of indignation on the matching faces and the identical tone of voice they used to finish each other's sentences almost made his head swim. Fred and George grinned happily, and one of the boys tossed his pack of cards at Charlie with a cheerful order to "deal 'em". Harry realized that he wouldn't mind being left here for a little while, after all. Once the Professor finished what he needed to do, Harry would go with him. But for now, he would learn how to play 'exploding snap' and try to find some trick to tell Fred and George apart.

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"The boy must stay here for tonight at least, but there are precautions that must be taken, Mr. Weasley," Severus announced as soon as he and Arthur Weasley were ensconced in the outdoor shed. It was full of muggle junk and about the only place they could have any privacy. The boys had been called up to amuse Harry in his sickroom by Mrs. Weasley as Severus was attempting to glare everyone out of the downstairs area. Bill was on the sofa reading some magazine, and Fred and George had been in the middle of constructing a tower of magical building blocks right in front of the fireplace. Severus hoped they behaved themselves around Harry or they would most certainly answer to his wrath.

"Sirius Black is in the area," Severus continued. "It is likely that he will be upset at our escape and may come this way soon."

"The boys told me you mentioned Black," Mr. Weasley replied calmly. "I've already reinforced the house wards and set them on high alert. I'll know if so much as a stray dog crosses them."

Severus nodded once, approvingly, and folded his arms. "I should expect that you and your wife know who the boy is by now?"

Arthur chuckled and nodded. "Only one boy it could be with that scar. When the kids find out, they'll be all kinds of awed and excited. How did you end up with him in the first place? I thought the Prophet said Dumbledore was keeping him safe."

"The Headmaster has many responsibilities," Severus muttered through a clenched jaw. "He has overlooked Mr. Potter's wellbeing in the past, and Black kidnapped the boy from the place where he was supposed to have been safe. I cannot return Mr. Potter either to Dumbledore or his muggle relatives for obvious reasons."

"Not to worry, Professor," Arthur said firmly. "Harry will be fine here. We'll protect him; never fear."

"It was not doubt in you that I was expressing," Severus snapped. "You have seven children of your own to protect and I would expect you to think of them first before the son of strangers. Black is a desperate man. Even now, I expect he knows where the boy and I have fled." He held up his arm and showed Mr. Weasley the ornate bracelet still firmly wrapped around his bony wrist. "This was the portkey that allowed Black to kidnap me," the Professor explained. "But it also acts as a magical suppressant of a sort. It will not allow me to apparate, and I would not be surprised if it also disallows me to use another portkey. It likely also acts as a tracing charm, leading Black to my location in the case of my escape. If the boy were not so ill, I would take him with me at once. But I must leave him with you for tonight while I take care of some matters."

"Of course," Mr. Weasley replied, his voice low and grave. "If the wards are breached by anyone, I'll evacuate the family. If you come and find the house empty, we'll be at my Aunt Muriel's place. She has the Weasley manor, such as it is, and it's quite a bit more defensible. Call Bluebell Estate into the floo, and it should take you straight there."

"A prudent plan," Severus conceded. He let his arms fall to his sides. "I should not be long. There are potions I need from my lab at Hogwarts, and someone I need to speak with, should he be awake. Hopefully I shall return by morning."

"Right," Mr. Weasley nodded briskly and turned to leave the shed with the Professor right behind him. "Any advice on Black?"

"He is insane, so treat him as such. He is easily agitated and a terrible brawler. If you can catch him in a physical confrontation rather than a magical one, you would have more of a chance of subduing him."

"Did he … hurt you? Or Harry?"

"Surprisingly, no," Severus scowled. "I'm not certain what is going through his head, but he believes that the boy is his to protect, and he kidnapped me in particular to act as a healer. I was only with him for approximately ten hours, though. Mr. Potter would be able to tell you more, but I don't believe the child was harmed by him."

Arthur Weasley swallowed hard, looking uneasy. "Molly said Harry's got scars on his torso and back … Nasty ones," he murmured. "And he looked like he'd been beaten in the last few days with some sort of belt. You sure Black didn't …?"

"The scars are from an unfortunate attack last month," Severus replied impatiently. "The beating likely was from his muggle relatives, which is why I am never returning the boy to those people and I will be very … upset with anyone who attempts to take the boy back or allows another to do so."

"Monsters," Mr. Weasley muttered in disgust. "Don't worry; we won't let anyone take Harry without your say-so, Professor. Say, are you going to see Dumbledore?"

"Not if I can help it," Severus Snape hissed. "That man insists on keeping Mr. Potter with those detestable muggles for some unfathomable reason known only to himself."

"The Headmaster never struck me as the type to turn a blind eye to that sort of thing," Arthur replied in astonishment. "Maybe he doesn't know or understand how bad it is …"

"Albus Dumbledore is not stupid. He knows, but for some reason, he does not care."

Arthur Weasley was silent for a long minute. "This whole affair is making me very uneasy, Professor Snape," he finally murmured.

Severus let out a bitter laugh. "Welcome to my world, Mr. Weasley."

They returned to the house in silence and found William still reading his magazine, which turned out to be a publication featuring moving photographs of nature and magical creatures. Absently, Severus mused that Hagrid would love something like that. Subscriptions to magical magazines were rather cheap; something to think about for Christmas, if he happened to draw the half-giant's name during the staff gift-swap.

Severus glanced up the stairs at the sound of a small explosion and a riot of children laughing. He heard what sounded like Harry's voice, and he wondered if he had ever heard that child laugh so hard before. Actually, he wondered if he had ever heard Harry laugh. A load rose off his chest, and he agreed with his own decree that Harry would be safe and happy here for tonight at least. He needed to inspect the damage done to his overcooked potion; if it hadn't boiled to nothing and filled his lab with toxic smoke, that is.

"Tell the boy I'll be back in the morning," Severus announced brusquely. His head pounded as they stopped in front of the flickering fire and the light stabbed his aching eyes.

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I'm in a hurry," Severus snapped.

Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley entered the sitting room and her face lit up when she saw him. "There you are!" she said, pulling two shrunk bags from her pocket which Severus recognized at once. "These were in your cloak pocket. Would you like them back?"

Severus hesitated and then shook his head. "Unshrink them," he ordered her. "You may keep the potions as payment for your hospitality, and the bag of clothing belongs to Mr. Potter." Without a further word, he grabbed a pinch of floo powder from the urn on the mantelpiece and threw it into the flames. Coming to his office from an unapproved floo, he would need to say a password as well as his destination. "Professor Snape's office, Hogwarts, Asphodel!" he announced, and dove into the floo.

As it whisked him away, he heard young William yelp, "Bloody hell! When were you goin' to tell us we had Harry Potter under our roof?"

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Hope that this chapter was everything you hoped it would be! It's mostly filler while I struggle with the next chapter, which is turning out to be surprisingly difficult to write. I hope to get some time to focus on it this weekend.

As always, thank you for all your kind reviews and encouragement!