Tis here, now that we're back up and running, at least somewhat, eh? I still don't own Harry Potter, this is still containing slash, and I'm still just as tired as I was when I woke up this morning. Oh, yes, and thank you to all my reviewers. :-)



Draco Malfoy was in something of a quandary. Pansy had organised another group to go and beat up Pot– Harry earlier in the evening, but she had returned looking disappointed, and he could only conclude that she had failed. He stewed for most of the evening as he ostensibly was researching potions. An observant person would have realised that he had not, in fact, read more than two or three pages, but by fifth year, Draco had made sure that his Housemates knew it was not prudent to be too observant when it came to Draco Malfoy, so no one was aware of his preoccupation.

He should tell Harry, or Professor Snape. Harry was a Snape. He should have been in Slytherin – did that fool Dumbledore hex the Sorting Hat, perhaps? Slytherins shouldn't, didn't cross other Slytherins or their families. Professor Snape was their head of House! Harry had to have been injured relatively seriously if he had cried out in pain after potions. It also indicated, though, that he had had one of his friends heal him, rather than Madam Pomfrey, which suggested that Professor Snape might not even know. Draco couldn't tell him, then. He had to tell Harry, but how?

He frowned and took out a piece of parchment.

Parkinson's bragging about beating you up. She tried again tonight, but it seems she failed. Bulstrode knows but isn't in on it. I won't say more, not yet.

Does your father know? Nod here, someone will be watching you discreetly. Tell him about Parkinson, if he already knows about the attack(s?). Slytherins don't cross other Slytherins or their families. And some of us are gay or bisexual, too.

How badly were you hurt, anyway?

He continued to frown as he read over what he had written. He hurried out of the common room and up to the Owlery, determined to send the owl before what little courage he possessed left him. He selected a gray screech owl from the available school owls and instructed it to deliver the letter to Harry Potter, just at the end of the owl post the next morning. The owl screeched its agreement and Draco berated himself for selecting such an annoying owl as he left the Owlery. He was stopped just as he stepped back inside the Slytherin common room.

It was Pansy. He sighed heavily. You've been so busy lately, I haven't had a chance to tell you. Some of us taught Hogwarts' resident fag a little lesson the other night.

Draco raised his eyebrows. I gathered, from your reaction to his pain after Potions today. Not very discreet, Pans.

She shrugged slightly, an embarrassed half-smile on her face as she rolled her eyes lightly and moved her head from side to side. Well, I know, but he didn't notice, that's the important thing. You wouldn't believe who helped out though. I mean, we had two Gryffindors!

Draco was shocked, in more ways that one. Pansy, you consorted with Muggle-loving and Mudblood scum?

She scoffed. No, of course not. It was one of the pureblood girls, I think she's in sixth? And, surprizingly, Longbottom. He was most useful, knew the queer's routine. Her tone turned businesslike. Well. If you want to come along the next time, let me know.

I prefer not to get involved in physical altercations, Pansy. You know that, he replied coolly. You really shouldn't either. They're beneath you.

She sniffed and walked away. 'A Slytherin uses the necessary tools, no matter how distasteful,' she quoted.

I hope you know what you're doing, Pans. He's still Professor Snape's son, Draco whispered as she walked away. He and Pansy had known each other since they were babies, and he often thought of her as a sister, or cousin. He didn't want to see her get burnt, no matter how ill-considered her actions were.



Harry looked up in surprize as the school owl landed in front of him, and he scanned the letter quickly, his face registering some of his shock. He nodded slowly, then mouthed Very, very badly. With that, he drew out a piece of parchment and copied the letter into his own handwriting. He was sure that his father would recognise any Slytherin's handwriting, and the writer had gone to some lengths to conceal his or her identity. He finished quickly, muttered a spell at the original, causing it to crumble into confetti, and stood, walking purposefully to the front of the room, where he handed the letter to his father and raised his eyebrow before striding away.


Draco Malfoy watched surreptitiously, confused. So. Professor Snape knew, and Harry had been hurt rather badly. But why was Harry copying the letter...? Oh! Draco nearly flushed with embarrassment when he realised that the Gryffindor was saving his skin. Professor Snape would undoubtedly have recognised Draco's handwriting. Bloody hell! he swore at himself. How could he have been so careless? And who would have thought that the other boy would have even considered the idea, much less covered his tracks. Draco shook his head. It wasn't often that a Slytherin was out-manuevered by a member of another House, but he had the distinctly uneasy feeling that it had just happened – and that it wouldn't be the last time, either.


Severus read over the letter his son handed him, slightly surprized. He was impressed that Harry had thought to rewrite the letter before handing it to him, although he assumed that it meant the writer had been sufficiently rattled when composing it. It didn't have any real new information, but it was an interesting confirmation – as well as raising some interesting questions.




That night, Neville was once again convinced to leave the fifth year boys' dormitory, and Hermione, Fred, and George joined the other four occupants to discuss the potential attackers. Harry was grateful for their help, but was getting a bit tired of everyone concentrating solely on his injuries. If it wasn't his scar, or something related to it, it was his newfound propensity for getting attacked. He contemplated whether to tell the others about the letter from the Slytherin or not, and still had not decided when everyone else gathered around his bed.

First, how's your arm feeling, Harry? Hermione questioned. Is it hurting any less?

Harry nodded. I have that potion I got last night, and it helps. Plus you set it straight, so there shouldn't be any problems. He grinned at her. Ankle's completely better now, though.

There were general murmurs at that announcement.

So, what have we found? Ron asked moments later.

There weren't any other Gryffindors involved, Dean answered. I also ruled out a couple of Hufflepuffs, because they were with a large group of our sixth years.

We know that Bulstrode wasn't in on it, but she knows about it. Harry felt the words tumble out of his mouth before he could stop them.

asked Hermione, astonished.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. One of the Slytherins sent me a letter. Apparently he – or she – is bisexual or gay, and thought that since I'm Snape's son, I shouldn't be a target of Slytherins. Parkinson admitted it to him/her and Bulstrode wasn't in on the actual attack.

The others just stared. A Slytherin? Helping you? Ron gasped out.

He is Snape's son, Seamus said mildly. I'm surprised, really, that the Hat didn't try to put you in Slytherin, Harry.

Harry just stared at Seamus, his mouth hanging open. No one knew that the Hat had wanted to make Harry a Slytherin. No one.

Seamus took in Harry's shocked expression with a single glance. Oh, sweet Merlin. I was kidding, Harry. I was kidding!

Harry just shook his head. The Hat wasn't, he mumbled lowly, then he raised his head. Don't worry about it, Seamus.

Well, I already put my notes together with Ron's and those responses you got from the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuff, Harry. If I can combine that with Fred and George, and you, Seamus, we might just have a list, Hermione said quickly into the silence.

Several moments later, Hermione looked up, and her rapidly moving quill stilled at last. I think I have a complete list. Two Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, one Ravenclaw, and two Slytherins. Does that fit with how many you remember, Harry?

He nodded. More or less. May I see the list?

Of course. She passed him the parchment, and he read over it carefully.

Okay. Let's make duplicates of this, then. Fred, George, continue with your plans. Get Parkinson next. Please.

They nodded. Are you going to take that to Snape tomorrow, then, Harry? Dean asked, and Harry nodded slightly.

Yes. I do wonder what's going to happen.

The others all nodded, then Hermione suddenly sprang up. Harry! Can you come with me for a bit? Grab the cloak and the map, we should be fine.

Startled, Harry complied, and he soon found himself walking through the corridors with Hermione under the cloak. What's up, Hermione?

Shh. Look, Filch is coming. We'll duck in here and then head to the kitchens.

Filch strolled past, seemingly staring right at them, but he continued on without incident. Harry and Hermione hurried the rest of the way to the kitchen, where Dobby greeted them cheerfully before disappearing back into the bowels of the kitchen proper.

I'm sorry to drag you out, Harry, but I wanted to talk to you about something.

What about?

Your father. Professor Snape. Harry, I know that you've accepted him as your father in your mind, but... I'm not so sure you really have. You either call him Professor Snape' still or that weird formal my father.' What do you do when it's just the two of you talking?

Harry blinked. Hermione was right, of course; he consciously avoided having to decide what to call the man. Um... I don't. Call him anything, that is. We just... talk. Avoid titles, I suppose.

Hermione said gently, I'm not trying to tell you what you should be doing. But I think that the sooner you get comfortable in here – and she tapped his chest lightly – with regarding him as your dad, the better able both of you are going to be to handle whatever gets thrown at you. She smiled, a trifle sadly. Nothing's ever easy for you, Harry, is it?

agreed Harry ruefully. And you're right. I need to figure out what to call him. I'll talk to him tomorrow.

Hermione's face brightened. Good. Now, c'mon, I know you have plenty of studying to take care of!

Harry chuckled. Same old Hermione. We'd best get some desserts, though, if we're already down here.



Harry approached his father was some trepidation the next day. Er, I was wondering if we could talk for a moment. In your office.

Slightly surprised, Severus nodded. I have a few moments free right now.

They entered the office and Severus shut the door behind them before sitting down. After he sat down, he stood back up. You must feel like you're coming in for a detention, he remarked as he walked around and sat in the chair opposite Harry's.

Er, well, sometimes, Harry admitted with a small smile. He took a deep breath. Last night, Hermione pointed out to me that, well, I really don't call you anything. Except maybe Er,' but that's just circumstantial. And, well, I don't really know what to call you. Or what you even want me to call you. Because Professor' sounds rather stilted. But... Harry trailed off. I just don't know.

Severus nodded slightly. I can understand your confusion. To be frank, I am not as self-assured on this matter as you might suppose me to be. I know that it seems awkward at this time, but I think we would both hate to feel this awkward in twenty years.

The awkwardness must be dealt with head-on, is what you're saying, Harry responded slowly, his head nodding unconsciously.

Precisely. I suggest you come up with whatever name you would feel most comfortable calling me, and we'll go from there. Although... I don't know that Severus or some form of it would be the most appropriate, all things considered.

Harry stood. I nearly forgot – here is the list, as near as we can determine it. You might want to bring in the four that we don't have confirmation on, and question them. I don't know. We're pretty confident about the Gryffindors and Parkinson, though.

Severus nodded slowly. I must commend you and your friends, Harry. Normally your impulse would be to suspect Mr. Malfoy, but you have avoided that throughout.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. I would have known if he or Crabbe or Goyle had been there. You know? We probably know each other better than we'd like to admit. And he hasn't been... oh sweet Merlin!

What is it, Harry?

Do you have any of Malfoy's old tests or essays here?

Surprized, Severus nodded and pulled one out of a drawer. Here. Why, what's wrong?

Harry stared at the parchment unbelieving for a long moment before he raised his gaze and took in the sight of his father in front of him. Malfoy wrote that letter.