Title: Family Matters
Author: drama-princess
Pairing(s): Hints of Snape/Sinistra and Harry/Ginny, mentions of Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG to PG-13, most likely. PG for the moment.
Disclaimer: Major characters and basic premises belong to J.K. Rowling and are used without permission, but with plenty of love and respect. No money is being made off of this, which is really quite a pity, as I could use some. All other characters and content of the story-- and Amalthea Sinistra's first name-- belongs to me.
Notes: This story is dedicated to my lovely beta, She's A Star, whose stuff I highly recommend and can be found in my favorites list. . . after you read this, of course. ;) Without her help, this would be just another plot bunny hopping round. And we all know how terrible that would be. Reviews are greatly appreciated, constructive criticism welcome.
Amalthea, incidentally, in a bit of mindless trivia, means to soothe, to soften and was, in mythology, the goat that nursed Zeus.
Summary: Harry, Snape, and Sinistra must pose as a Muggle family over the summer holidays-- and in doing so, don't only discover a web of intrigue in the Order of Phoenix, but something about themselves as well.

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Chapter One: A Change of Plans

Just for once, Harry Potter reflected to himself, he'd like to finish up a term outside the hospital wing.

It was a rather cheery place, he owned, glancing around at Madam Pomfrey's freshly painted walls and bright curtains, but the circumstances that brought him there weren't among his favorite. To say the least, he thought wryly. His fifth year had started out in a decent fashion, spending the last two weeks with the Weasleys. And between Weasley's Wizard Wheezes finally snatching a reluctant approval from Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley setting up a food-only Floo system for his extraordinary office hours, there was never any lack of activity to keep his mind off of the previous year. Luckily the school seemed to have been caught up in the same philosophy-- one moment the entire Order of Phoenix Apparated in for another meeting, the next Dumbledore was happily leading the school out for a picnic-- and so his fifth year passed well enough.

Until the hour after he completed his O.W.L.'s, that was. Harry supposed he ought to write Voldemort a thank-you note for waiting for his Potions final to finish to attack-- but somehow, he couldn't muster the energy. Sighing, he tried to shift the unfortunate pile of chocolate (most of which, he realized, came from Ginny Weasley in an effort to vary the flavours) The thought brought a smile to his face. With Ron and Hermione trying an on-again, off-again relationship, he'd have felt a bit left out if he hadn't had Ginny to study with.

Not that he fancied her or anything like that.

Sighing, he flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He'd been here a week and a half, and as much fun as conversing with a water spot could be, it lost a lot of allure after a very short while. And being left alone with his thoughts meant just that-- his memories of the last battle having free reign.

And, Harry Potter, we come face to face again. . .surely you didn't think that Dumbledore could keep you safe forever?

Ugh. He really didn't want to call Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep potion. He'd slept too much lately, and he'd just wake up feeling more restless than ever.

The same high, cold voice--

Maybe he'd draft another plea to Dumbledore to let him stay with the Weasleys for the summer. He'd finally talked Fred and George into letting him slip a few extra Galleons into the family jar when he stayed with them-- and he couldn't face going back to the Dursleys, not this year.

Such concern over a filthy Muggle?

He couldn't wait to play Quidditch again, maybe he'd even have a shot at captain next year. Angelina had been a great leader this year, but she was graduating, and maybe it wasn't just his imagination that she'd been grooming him to take over her position. Or, even better, if Sirius was at Hogwarts for a brief rest in between assignments, he'd be able to see Harry play.

The thought made Harry grin briefly, and temporarily dispelled any other ideas. He finally took hold of the bell next to his bed-- he'd beg Madam Pomfrey for a brief walk outside, a short visit (and some illicit snacks-- he was very tired of broth and chocolate) from Dobby, or a few more minutes with Ron and Hermione when they were allowed to come into the infirmary.

Before he could summon up his most pleading expression, Professor Dumbledore entered with an enormous bar of (Harry forced back his disgusted expression at the sight) Honeydukes chocolate in his hands.

Hello, Professor, he offered meekly, hoping against hope that the chocolate wasn't for him. He remembered, vaguely, that just a week and a half ago, he'd loved the sweet-- and he'd probably love it again as soon as he was suffering under Dudley's diet-- but this was really too much.

Ah, Harry. Much to Harry's relief, Dumbledore set the bar next to Madam Pomfrey's knitting needles. He settled himself down next to Harry's bedside table and studied Harry over his half-moon glasses. And how are you feeling today?

Much better, thanks-- some chocolate, Professor? Harry asked, mentally crossing his fingers. If he could convince Dumbledore to start in on the pile, that'd be that much less he had to choke down under Madam Pomfrey's gaze.

Why, yes, thank you, Dumbledore plucked a box of Chocolate Frogs from the table and opened one up. The old twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes, and Harry relaxed back into his bolster of pillows. He missed the perennially cheerful Dumbledore he remembered from his earlier years at Hogwarts, and seeing a glimpse of him convinced Harry that all would be well, after all. I imagine Honeydukes does as well.

Harry smiled, almost involuntarily. Hermione had complained yesterday that she never saw him smile anymore, and hadn't, not for ages. She'd certainly be pleased to see him acting happy and cheerful-- and normal,' as Ron had put it. Well, if Dumbledore was in a good mood, perhaps Harry would have reason to be as well.

Did you get my note about the Weasleys, Professor Dumbledore? he asked tentatively. He noted anxiously that although the twinkle didn't fade entirely, it did dim a bit. Mrs. Weasley wrote and said she'd be delighted to have me, and it'd be fantastic if I could go, would it really put everyone in such danger? This, he thought with chagrin, he said very quickly and rather guiltily, as if he knew that Dumbledore was going to give him a negative reply, and was asking in spite of it. Nice indicator of confidence there, Potter, he thought grimly.

Dumbledore began, tapping his fingers together and studying him over them. That happens to be precisely the topic of conversation I wished to bring up, Harry. Harry felt himself tense up, his stomach fluttering in a way that would have sent Madam Pomfrey into convulsions.

I did receive your note, Dumbledore said gently, and your reluctance to go home for the summer is well understood, Harry. Harry nodded quickly, biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to hide his anxiety. But, Harry, I am afraid that it is not possible for you to spend the summer with the Weasleys. He held up a hand, forestalling any reply Harry might have mad. It is simply too dangerous, for both you and the Weasleys-- you are both targets as it is, and the Ministry simply cannot afford to provide the amount of protection that such a gathering would require. Harry swallowed, hard. He'd taken his danger as a matter of course, but he'd-- stupidly-- never thought that his friends would be targets as well.

he said softly. That was--

Stupid, selfish, Potter, stupid.

A thought that I wish you did not have to deal with, Dumbledore cut in sternly. And one that I would prefer that you did not spend time worrying over. They have protection, Harry, as much as we can provide. You must take care of yourself. Harry flushed slightly and nodded.

Yes, Professor, he said softly, drumming his fingers on the bar next to his bed. His stomach seemed to be sinking more by the minute. Back to the Dursleys, then, and three months of fretting over Sirius and his friends, not knowing if he was getting all his owls, not knowing if he would even be able to go back--

Dumbledore's voice interrupted his gloomy thoughts, and Harry looked up hopefully. Could he stay at Hogwarts? He grinned to himself, thinking of a whole summer spent with his books and broomsticks (maybe Hermione's efforts were paying off, after all, if books immediately sprang to mind as a benefit. She'd be pleased) I would like to offer you an option of a different sort.

Harry nodded obediently, inwardly beaming with happiness. His mind was overflowing with potential-- stay at Hogwarts, perhaps, or even settle with Sirus for a few months. Anywhere but the Dursleys. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and a little of Harry's anticipation tinged with anxiety as he caught the reluctance to speak.

Well, Harry, I want to tell you that this would be ensure your protection, and would serve the Order in ways that-- yes, well. Er--

The door the the infirmary opened, and both Harry and Dumbledore turned to see Professor Sinistra edge into the room, her face slightly pink with the exertion from running. His eyes widened, puzzled by the interruption.

she said, breathing heavily and fanning herself. I'm sorry, Albus-- I completely lost track of the time-- I was reading this Muggle magazine-- oh, you've not said anything yet-- and goodness, you wouldn't believe how strange some of their robes are--

Hello, Amalthea, Dumbledore said warmly, rising to bring over a chair for the Astronomy Professor. Please, don't concern yourself-- I've seen nothing of Severus all morning.

Harry's eyebrows shot up at the mention of his least favorite professor--alarm bells beginning to clang in his head. As much as he did not want to go to Privet Drive for the holidays, the idea of spending summer under the sneer of Professor Severus Snape was definitely. Not. Appealing. Then again, it was highly unlikely that Snape would be willing to let Harry within a hundred feet of his free time if he had any say in the matter.

Professor Sinistra snorted softly under her breath at the mention of Snape, and Harry turned his head to study her. He was mildly surprised to find that he'd never really done so before-- you'd think five years of Astronomy would pretty much clue you in as far as appearance and personality went, but it was hard to get the gist of anybody when the only time you saw them was at midnight. Besides which, Sinistra rarely descended from her quarters in the Astronomy tower (much to the disappointment of students seeking to tryst at the top of Hogwarts). He knew that Hermione had had a few chats with her after class at midnight, but he and Ron had always been more interested in getting to bed, so he'd never had a chance to even attempt small talk with her.

Professor-- Amalthea?-- Sinistra was a slightly dowdy woman in her thirties, who might have been pretty once, and retained a little of her former beauty in her tired face. Her auburn hair curled above her shoulders, wrestled back into an unflattering style that would have boosted Hermione's ego. But the dark eyes that peered from behind thick spectacles were kind and bright, and, Harry noticed with a start, were smiling at him. Sinistra had always struck him as being a bit unfriendly-- well, he amended privately, sort of overly academic-- a Hermione without the amiability.

Not that he'd ever spared much thought on her, to be honest. She didn't give too much homework, graded easily enough, rarely took points off or gave them out, and took meals in her tower. In Harry's book, the only thing you could do to be more unnoticed was to go round with an Invisibility Cloak on.

Hello, Harry, she said, extending a small hand to him and shaking his hand with surprising firmness. Nice to see you in daylight. Her mouth twitched, and he caught a glimpse of repressed mischief lingering behind the facade of reserve.

Harry replied, instinctively warming to this new side of his professor. She definitely reminded him of Hermione, he reflected, but that beam in her eyes was reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley, of all people. Her gaze flicked to Dumbledore, and he thought, for a moment, she even looked like the photographs of his own mother-- smart, cheerful, and in control.

So, Albus, have you explained things yet? she asked, briskly rubbing her hands together and looking doubtfully down at his pile of chocolate. She sent Harry a sympathetic glance and he stifled a laugh-- plainly Professor Sinistra was acquainted with the phenomenon of too much chocolate. Her lip curled slightly. Or are you waiting for Severus to sweep in with one of his disgusting concoctions-- the only decent use of which, I might add, would be to put himself out of his own misery?

It was, perhaps, a very good thing that Harry had just lifted a handkerchief to his face to sneeze-- it muffled his snort of laughter. Professor Sinistra, at any rate, was the recipient of Dumbledore's warning frown, but she seemed oblivious. Harry grinned to himself behind the refuge of his handkerchief. It was always nice to know you weren't alone in loathing Snape.

Dumbledore said slowly. Harry, let me begin by explaining something. He glanced up at Professor Sinistra, who merely shrugged at him. We've become concerned, recently, with a few of our agents based in a Muggle neighborhood. He hesitated briefly, long enough for Harry to start worrying. We don't suspect their loyalties in the slightest-- I want to make this clear right now. But we are worried about their tendency to disappear for long periods of time, and we'd like to put a--

Low profile team in a high security location, Professor Sinistra put in dryly. She grinned mischievously at Harry, her eyes sparkling at him. Harry grinned back, and noticed that the little bit of prettiness she had really came out when she smiled. I read that in a Muggle novel. Been doing a bit of research, and I must admit it's rather fun.

Harry asked, now definitely puzzled. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Professor Sinistra beat him to it.

We're going to go pose as a Muggle family, and we'd like to know if you'd come along.

Harry asked, taken back by the offer. For one thing, members of the wizarding world definitely did not do well among Muggles, and secondly, this sounded like the sort of thing that he was definitely Not Welcome in. Too dangerous for the Boy Who Lived. Why me?

Several reasons, Harry, Dumbledore said, popping another bit of chocolate into his mouth and smiling at him. With two fully qualified Defense wizards and the additional comfort of living incognito, you'd be both protected and anonymous-- something, Dumbledore added, the corner of his mouth twitching. I imagine you might enjoy.

And secondly, Sinistra added. We don't want to attract any attention-- from either the neighbors or those we're watching. A childless couple in their mid-thirties-- in this area, at least-- would attract a lot more attention than a a couple with their teenage son. Add into which that despite my brief introduction to the Muggle world through Albus's, she smirked a little at Dumbledore. Exemplary reading list, we'll be making a lot of mistakes. You've lived with Muggles for extended periods of time-- and-- more importantly, you've seen some kind of family dynamic.

It took all of Harry's self-possession not to roll his eyes at that. Family dynamic? A screeching mother, a selfish father, and a spoiled son-- but to be fair, the Dursleys were the most . . . Muggleish, for lack of a better word, of all Muggles. Almost reluctantly, he nodded.

That's true.

From what I've garnered from my research, Sinistra continued, Muggle teenage boys don't spend their holidays doing much of anything-- and it wouldn't be necessary for you to work with a family' of our standing. So you'd just spend the summer being. . . here she shrugged a little. Whatever Muggle boys do. She pondered for this for a minute. Muggle. . . things, she said weakly.

Harry bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. The ignorance of the wizarding world about some Muggle practices really were quite funny, and it was absolutely hilarious to see an obviously otherwise intelligent witch grasping for a statement. But this was no raw deal they were offering him, as the more serious aspect of his mind put in. Spend the summer with Professor Sinistra and her husband, he guessed, pretend to be their kid, and maybe actually get a chance to play on a computer or ride a bike without Dudley descending upon him.

Should I give you leave to think about this, Harry, or do you feel well-enough informed to make a decision now? Dumbledore asked after a decent interval.

Harry said, his mind furiously racing. No Dursleys, no fear of discovery, no slimy potions professors lurking around the bend-- visiting the Weasleys aside, this was the best thing that could have happened to his summer. Um, sure, he said cheerfully. Sounds great.

Dumbledore exclaimed, standing up and brushing the crumbs off of his robe. Then I'll leave you two to get acquainted. I assume you'll leave as soon as Harry's fully recovered, Amalthea?

Professor Sinistra nodded, and shook Dumbledore's hand with the beginnings of a smile lurking about her mouth.

Goodbye, then, Harry. Dumbledore smiled at him brightly. Madam Pomfrey thinks you will be well enough to attend the end-of-term feast, so I hope I to see you there.

Goodbye, Professor! Harry called after him. He turned to see Professor Sinistra still sitting by his bed, a strange look having crossed her face. Er. . . Professor Sinistra?

Her head turned quickly to study him, and he was struck by the soft loneliness in her eyes. It was peculiar-- like seeing a reflection of his younger self, he thought. He racked his memory, trying to think of sometime he'd seen his new in a social setting. She had to be married, though, so he guessed that accounted for the lack of sociability. Did her husband live in Hogsmeade?

she said in return, nervously fumbling for her spectacles. She looked up at him and smiled wryly. These always get filthy. . . all the dusty books I pour over, I suppose. Harry grinned back.

Yeah, same here, he said quickly. He pulled them off and held the lenses up to the filtered sunlight of the infirmary. Only I don't think it's books, for my part. For a moment, it looked as if Sinistra was smothering genuine amusement, but the smile vanished as the professional persona swept over her again.

You don't do badly in Astronomy, though, she said seriously, eyeing him sternly. She paused, then tapped her wand against the frame of her spectacles.

Occulus Abstergeo!

Harry watched as the smears of dust and grime vanished, and felt a little impressed in spite of himself. He'd never really had trouble with charms, but at the same time, he didn't have the ability to go doing everything with them. Professor Sinistra settled the glasses on her nose-- a little crookedly, he noticed with a small grin-- and raised her left eyebrow.

Know it? she asked, seemingly offhandedly, but he saw her observing him closely through those thick spectacles. Summing him up? Harry shrugged a little.

I used to, but I can never seem to remember it. I usually just wipe them down on my robe, he admitted.

Professor Sinsitra seemed to consider this for a minute, then took his spectacles from him. she said, resting her wand on the tip of them. This ought to help, she said a bit shyly, repeating the same charm. Keeps them clean for at least a week.

Thanks, Professor, Harry said, snagging them back and restoring clarity to the world. Sinistra's mouth twitched, and she fingered a bit of her robe before speaking again.

You may call me Amalthea, if you like. I suppose you'll have to call me Mother or something when we're in company, but it does feel a bit silly to have you call me Professor.

All right, Harry agreed, idly wondering what it would be like to have to call two completely unrelated people by names he hadn't used for. . . well, for his whole life, he guessed. Strangely, it didn't bother him to think of calling Sinist-- Amalthea-- Mum.

So what's your husband's name? he asked, swinging a bit of candyfloss by his fingertips. Calling a complete stranger Dad, on the other hand-- well, he just hoped her husband was a nice guy.

My husband? Amalthea asked, her eyebrows shooting up in puzzlement. Oh, no, Harry-- she actually blushed a little, something that he'd never have thought her capable of. I thought you understood--

Harry echoed.

Just then, Severus Snape swept into the infirmary, a malicious sneer firmly planted on his face. Harry watched in horror as Snape drew close to the bed, folded his arms, and proceeded to glare at both him and Amalthea.

Amalthea said, gesturing powerlessly at him. Harry has . . . she tried to smile, but it wavered in and out of existence. She obviously felt bad for his misunderstanding, but just as much did not wish to lose face in front of Snape. It was a feeling he had definite empathy with, but not really enough to spend his entire holiday with the greasy git. Agreed to come, she finished faintly.

Snape's lips thinned and he glared coldly at Harry. Amalthea had lost any ability to articulate, and Harry was frantically trying to find a way to refuse this insane trip without making himself and Amalthea (who he had developed an unfortunate fondness for in the past ten minutes) look like complete idiots.

Well, what excellent news, Snape said silkily. He scowled about the hospital wing, obviously looking for something to hex in lieu of Harry. Since it looked like he was rather stuck in this situation, Harry hoped fervently that Snape was under strict orders from Dumbledore to return Harry in single piece-- preferably a sane one. Not finding anything to take his anger out on, Snape stalked to the window. he repeated. he snapped brusquely. Just how prepared are we?

We, uh, Harry could see Amalthea scrambling for her wits, and when she glanced frantically at him, he mouthed shopping' at her. Practical application was clearly not her forte. Need to get some things. At the Muggle shops. In, er-- she looked helplessly at him again.

Harry hissed, thankful that Snape's attention was focused on the view outside.



Snape said curtly, turning to face them both. Will my attendance be necessary? His expression suggested that he was prepared to endure such an ordeal, but only out of his most sacrificial bend of character. Harry tried to imagine his Potions professor in a Muggle suit and failed utterly. He couldn't fathom a Snape outside of those sweeping black robes. And, if they were venturing into the Muggle world, Snape might actually have to wash his hair, Merlin forbid.

The thought was tempting, but the idea of Snape's company on a trip to the shops was certainly not. Harry began to shake his head, but Amalthea beat him to it, probably to prove to Snape that she was still capable of functioning in his presence. He suspected that she was that unfortunate sort of person. In lieu of demonstrating actual competence, she would expend all resources to simulate it. It was, Harry thought grimly, perhaps not the best time to demonstrate that particular talent.

she said firmly, even as her face began to pale with the realization of what she had just said. In spite of her sarcastic words about Snape earlier, it was rather obvious that he intimidated her. And it was that particular sign of human weakness that made Harry give in and mentally agree to this insane trip. He liked Amalthea-- and more than that, he wanted to spend time with somebody who wouldn't try to smother him with attention. Not after this last year. Not after Cedric, and Cho, and Voldemort's punctual return during every blasted school year.

Very well. Snape forced the words out and tried to not glare at Harry-- something that he didn't quite succeed at, as his lip twisted sardonically. Amalthea appeared not to notice, staring indifferently out the window, once again immersed in her facade of academic reserve. Harry just barely managed not to cry. Snape looked slightly mollified by the reactions to his presence, and dropped the enormous chocolate bar Dumbledore had brought in earlier next to Harry.

Better eat that, Potter, he said with a slightly twisted little smile. Wouldn't want you to be too ill to come, now. . . would we? He arched an eyebrow at Harry, nodded curtly at Amalthea, and swept out of the room. The sound of the door slamming roused Amalthea enough to stand, and she patted his hand absently before wandering out of the infirmary.

Harry threw himself back on the bed and groaned loudly. No Dursleys-- good. On the other hand, he was about to spend the summer with an adult, emotionally dead Hermione and his nasty Potions teacher. He rolled over on his side, glaring at the new bar of chocolate. The thing was bloody huge, he thought grimly. He lay there for another minute, pondering the nauseating idea of having to call Severus Snape before he lost his patience, marched over to the window, and chucked the chocolate out onto the Quidditch field. At times like these, he really wished Sirius wasn't making nightly appearances on Wizard's Most Wanted.

Then again, when Sirius heard he'd be spending the summer pretending to be Snape's son, he'd probably have a coronary, and then Harry would be really stuck.

Pondering the idea for a bit, he let out a bit of laugh, which quickly stopped once the chocolate hurled itself back through the window. He stuck his head out the window to see Severus Snape gliding past. Harry just stared for a minute, then slammed the chocolate into the bed and let out a frustrated yell.

How on earth was he supposed to survive this summer?