This is another short chapter and I apologize for that. I've just started a new job and haven't had any time to do, well, anything really. It's long hours, the pay sucks, standing for nine hours straight makes my feet hurt, and it's seriously cutting into my sitting around time; but I am ever so glad to have steady work again. (grin)

Sorry, really lame joke but I'm too tired to do anything better. Updates will be shorter and farther apart than what you all are used to from me, but I am not abandoning this story.

I hope you all aren't upset with me over my last authors note, it seems sort of curt in retrospect, but I was trying ot keep it short.

I'm rather tired, so if I forget to respond to something, just yell at me. Here's a couple of reveiw responses:

juliedecarson: I'm glad you liked the scene with Severus. That was one of those that I was unsure of, so I'm doubly glad of your review. I love the idea of secret passages in general and Hogwarts is such a grand place for them. Let me know if I get carried away. (grin)

Munku-JGSPTV: Don't forget, the disappearing cabinet in HBP was referenced as having appeared in another book. (Won't say more than that, it's not important and I don't want to be accused of adding spoilers.) I really only threw it in because it was a "Hogwarts thing" and I needed something for Harry to want to add to the map. It most likley won't come up again. Every painting we've seen so far (with the possible exception of the "Fat Lady" who guards Gryffindor Tower has been at least slightly bonkers. I started to write that scene with a painting and it came out nonsense, so I decided all the paintings (or at least most of them) were nuts. LOL, I'm glad you like hte story as is. I never even thought about any other way the story could be taken when I wrote this, finding out some people thought it was SS/HP really threw me because of that. I'm glad y ou like it so much. :)

Chiara Crawford: Good Guess, and he might have built some of them, but that's not where I'm going. Enjoy the fic.

Alfa: They're working on it. And Dobby will show up again, I've got plans for him, I think he got a raw deal in the books, he's kind of a plot device there.

Claudia: Can you believe there are people out there who haven't even read HBP yet? I ran into one last night. I advised her to forget about it because she'll hate it, but she just wouldnt' listen...

Everyone else: I know I've got more reviews, see my earlier comments about the new job. I apologize for leaving you all out. Enjoy.


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Chapter Seven

Harry trailed his hand along the stones in the corridor, delighting in the strange golden warmth he found there. He knew the stones should be icy cold, but for some reason they were not. His touch was light as it skimmed over each tiny flaw in the material.

He hesitated when he reached a doorway but only for a moment. Even as he reluctantly raised his fingers from the wall, he felt the warmth through his bare feet. Smiling faintly, he stepped lightly passed the doorway, then broke into a run. Each step offered him strength for the next. The air around him sparkled with power as he opened himself to the warmth that pervaded every part of the castle.

No one person could be aware of everything that happened within these walls all the time, it was simply too much information for the human brain to process – No matter that she would not leave such a task to a mere human. However, she did, on occasion, lend her strength to those who needed it. Right now, Harry needed all the help he could get. He had a difficult task ahead of him. She, of course, couldn't resist lending a hand and a little extra strength. At least until he had a protector of his own. She had her favourites, just like every teacher, after all...

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Harry woke suddenly, his heart pounding and adrenaline flowing through his veins. The dream was fading fast, but he could still remember running through, Hogwarts, excited about something. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the last dregs of sleep, then slowly pulled back his blanket and climbed out of bed to dress.

It was still too early to be up, but Harry knew he was far to keyed up to sleep. The strange dream would not completely leave him. He felt restless, but safe.

With a heavy sigh, knowing that he would be tired that night, Harry left his room, silently ignoring the clock, which read 'Go Back To Sleep!' He was startled, for a moment, to not have to pass the common room before reaching the corridor. He'd felt, for a time, like he'd been in the dormitories.

The thought left him wondering where Neville was staying. Obviously, he wasn't in Gryffindor tower either. But he didn't seem to be staying near the infirmary either. Harry hope he'd see more of the shy boy while they were both here.

Their earlier conversation had helped Harry a great deal. If nothing else, Neville's acceptance had helped. After all, if Neville could handle the fact that he and Snape were related, so could Harry.

Snape's parting comment from that night still bothered Harry a bit.

"I would rather like the opportunity to change your opinion of me; as I have already changed my opinion of you."

Why would Snape have changed his opinion of Harry at this point? It didn't make any sense. What would have done such a thing?" Surely it couldn't have been just that letter. The old Snape would not have cared in the least that anyone was related to him.

And what had been that look on the man's face at their very next examination?

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was going until he very nearly walked into the very subject of his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

It was obvious that a snide remark came first to the man's lips, but he swallowed it before it came out.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" He said in a clipped tone.

Harry shrugged. "I had a strange dream, it woke me up. I was too awake to go back to sleep."

Both of them were startled at the answer but Harry just shrugged again and went with it. Snape wasn't cruel to him anymore and seemed slightly off-balance when Harry answered that way. Harry still enjoyed seeing the Professor unsettled too much to stop himself.

Snape seemed unsure what to say, so Harry asked, "What are you doing up, sir? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Black eyes rounded on him and Harry seriously regretted asking, but then his teacher sighed and wandered toward a nearby window. His expression was almost wistful.

After staring out the window for several long moments, he said, "I've been thinking far too much."

Harry nodded, he understood.

"Did you mean what you said? Weeks ago, in the hospital wing, when you said you didn't wish me dead."

Harry nodded, then realized he couldn't see it. "Yes, sir. I don't wish anyone dead. Certainly not by Vol- er, You-Know-Who's hand."

"But you hated me, even then?"

Harry thought about that. "I don't know. I don't think I truly hate anyone. Not even you."

Snape leaned against he wall. Harry noticed that he'd been leaning an awful lot since the summer had started. The Professor had always seemed so impressive, larger than life as he swept through a room. Now, he seemed somehow diminished. Leaning against walls and tables didn't seem to help his image any.

"Sir, are you alright?" Harry asked when Snape didn't respond.

"No, I'm not alright."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as he stepped toward his father.

Snape looked idly out the window. "I'm marked for death. I haven't been outside this castle, except for your rescue, since the Dark Lord's return. I dare not leave. And this bloody Mark won't quit burning."

Harry had now come close enough he only had to look sideways to see Snape's face. What's more, he could see that the man was rubbing his arm slowly, pushing the loose sleeve up little by little with his motions.

"Isn't there anything that can get rid of it?"

Snape grimaced. "Yes. I can die, or the Dark Lord can release me of my oath."

"Or someone could kill the Dark Lord," Harry finished.

"That too," Snape admitted. "Though that will only mean no one can make it burn. It will still be there, hidden."

Harry winced. The man's tone was pure resignation. He had settled it in his mind that he would never again be free.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Snape scowled and turned toward Harry, only to be startled when the boy was right next to him. "What on earth are you sorry for?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry that you're in pain. And I'm sorry that... that..." He sighed helplessly. "I'm sorry things are so bad in general."

"You do know this is my own fault?"

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know anything about it."

Snape shook his head, though Harry wasn't sure why. "You would think, with everything that's happened, you, of all people, would know more about this."

Harry scowled. "And who, exactly is going to tell me? Nearly everyone clams up when I come into the room because they don't think I should know. I get information in fits and bursts when something turns up in the Prophet or Malfoy blabs something in anger. I didn't even know what the Dark Mark was until the World Cup last summer."

Snape stared at him, then said quickly, "This mark is a form of loyalty oath. It is taken willingly or not at all. That is the only reason there aren't more spies inside the Dark Lord's ranks."

Harry didn't smile, but he nodded and did not look away.

"That's why you were going to go back, even though you knew you would probably get killed."

"Yes. If there had been a chance I would make it, I had to try."

Harry sighed and put one hand on the window pane. They were standing almost shoulder to shoulder now, though neither noticed. With the long uncomfortable pauses, their conversation had taken more than an hour. In a few short minutes the sky would begin lightening. The pre-dawn gloom was already erasing a few of the dimmer stars on the eastern horizon.

"I just wish there was something that could be done," Harry said wistfully.

Severus found he did not have the strength to agree, though his mind screamed the same.

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After standing together, in silence, until the sun began to rise, neither really wanted to be alone. So, Snape did the most logical thing he could think of. He invited Harry to have breakfast with him.

"Okay," Harry said easily, as if Ron had asked him the same question. This new attitude Snape had adopted this summer made it, well, not easy. But it made it possible to forget with whom he was speaking. Harry just pretended he was with someone else.

Snape led the way to the great hall where all but the staff table were covered in dustcloths. Both sat at the long staff table, Harry a bit uncomfortably, and waited on the house elves to serve them. Unlike during the year, the house elves seemed to serve meals when one was ready, rather than waiting for a specific time. Harry had eaten every mean in his room until now.

Neither spoke for a time, but as he started serving himself, Harry found the courage to break the silence.

"So... Remember how I said I wanted to get to know you better? That would probably work better if I knew something about you."

Snape picked up his goblet and took a sip, obviously buying time.

"What did you want to know?" He asked mildly.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know... Oh, I do know. Do you have any family? Besides me, I mean."

Glad he'd set the goblet down, knowing he'd have choked on his juice, Snape tried very hard to keep his face emotionless.

The boy had just referred to them as family. Potter had just referred to him as family.

"Not close relatives, no. I've some distant cousins on my father's side that I don't know well. I was an only child, my parents are dead. Their parents are dead, as well, and I have no aunts and uncles."

Snape spoke in a clipped tone that kept Harry from asking another question. He did not want to break the tenuous peace they had now.

"What about you, who are those people you lived with? What relation are they to you?"

Harry froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, when Snape turned the question back at him.

"Aunt Petunia was my mother's sister. The Dursley's aren't really worth talking about. They are afraid of magic. They hate me." Harry shrugged. "You were there, you know what happened. That was the only decent thing Aunt Petunia ever did for me and I still can't figure out why she did it."

Harry rubbed the scar on his forehead with some annoyance. Snape wondered at that habit, but did not say anything. It did, however, remind him not to rub his arm.

Their conversation died as they drifted onto these uncomfortable topics and yet, neither was really ready to be alone. They finished their meal in silence, then sat together and sipped their drinks, each hoping the other would suggest something else. When neither did, both left to try and find distraction on their own.

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The day flowed as easily as molasses for both Snape and Harry. The latter ended up spending his afternoon staring out a window near Gryffindor tower. The former spent the day desperately trying to focus on any of the work he had yet to do to finish up for the year.

Ordinarily, Snape would have left the school for summer break by now. This year, even if he was finished, he still wouldn't be leaving. As long as he was still Marked he would not be able to leave the Hogwarts Wards. He wouldn't even be able to go to Hogsmede.

He sighed over the student essays, wishing desperately for something physical, and hopefully messy, to work with. It was too soon, however, to start preparing ingredients for the fall classes. They would lose too much potency in the month and a half left before classes began. Anything would be better than this, though. He almost wished for more of Potter's horribly uncomfortable questions...

The weight of the death sentence that still hung over his head was surprisingly overwhelming. It hadn't even been this bad when he'd come to confess to Dumbledore all those years ago. He'd known then that at the very least he'd end up in Azkaban. Most likely he'd end up dead.

It was as if, somehow, he'd known even then that he could still be useful. He hadn't asked for a reprieve. He hadn't asked for the chance to redeem himself. He'd fully expected to pay for his many crimes. Somehow, though, he'd not felt this before.

This death sentence was much heavier than the previous. As if he knew it was only a matter of time. Borrowed time, at that.

Snape pushed his hair back in frustration. He was not only utterly useless, he was helpless as well.

The entire situation made him feel like a fool more than anything else, and yet, he did not have the faintest idea how to get out of it. Especially now that he knew he had a child.

He hadn't the foggiest notion what to do with a fourteen year old son, but there was no part of Snape that could simply abandon the child. Even if he was only a rarely seen presence, he had to be there. That, of course, eliminated the easiest solution.

If not for Harry, he might have simply sat down outside the gates and waited for the end to happen. Equally, he might have made an assault, hoping to take a few of them out as well. But Potter- Harry deserved for him to stay alive.

Then again, wouldn't Potter be better off without his interfering? What, exactly could he offer the boy? Even if he hadn't been marked for death, it was still suicide keeping a Death Eater around.

A sharp stabbing pain brought Snape out of his reverie and sent him walking the halls once again. He was searching for distraction, anything to take his mind off the pain. He already knew that none but the strongest painkillers were effective. Most of those that worked were addictive or had much worse side effects. He thought longingly of the cream in the wooden box in his rooms, then dismissed the thought with a little regret. He may be useless right now, but long-term use of that would make him worthless as well.

It was only a few steps outside his office, however, that he encountered Harry again.

"I'm sorry Professor," Harry said. The boy was distracted by something and seemed slightly annoyed. He repeatedly glared at the walls around him.

"What are you doing down here?" Snape asked with as little annoyance as he could manage. The boy didn't seem notice his tone of voice at all.

"I have no idea, I was on my way back upstairs." Harry then muttered something about 'bloody castle is trying to make me crazy.'

Snape caught his eye automatically and felt the pain in his arm cease as he was drawn into the boy's gaze. After only a few moments, however, Potter turned away. It took immense effort for him to not cry out as the pain returned full force.

"Harry, look at me again." Snape's tone was forceful enough to make Harry obey, even if the request was odd. Their gazes locked again and once again the pain abated.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked without breaking his gaze.

Snape shook his head slowly, knowing he couldn't look at the boy forever and savouring the pain free moments while he could.

"I do not know, but I intend to find out."

The pair returned to Snape's office and the older man began pulling books off the shelves while he explained the effect to Harry.

"Well," Harry began, thinking out loud. "That could only be one of three things: the resurrection spell Voldemort used, the blood connection between me and you, or a combination of the two."

Snape frowned. "That is not particularly helpful."

Harry agreed, though he did not say so. "It's just an idea, but I think it has to do with the resurrection ritual. I picked up some of His traits when he failed to kill me all those years ago. Then he used my blood to bring himself back."

Snape looked up from the tome he was leafing through. His face showed excitement.

"Yes, and the Mark was created by using blood. It would have had to be altered, at least at his end, to work once he had a new body. That's why no one could use the Mark to find him while he was a disembodied spirit."

Harry picked up the thread easily, completely ignoring the books Snape had handed him.

"Let me guess, it's supposed to stop hurting when you go to Him?"

Snape nodded.

"Then that's why. The Mark thinks I'm Him."

Harry said the last cheerfully and very loudly. Both of them froze at the proclamation. Harry whispered again, "The Mark thinks I'm Voldemort."

Snape was shaken to the very core. Harry Potter, his son, was being mistaken for the Dark Lord. The situation was unthinkable and made him want to recoil in terror.

But Harry was less terrified than intrigued. While Snape stared in shock, Harry began asking questions.

"How is the Mark created? Is it a charm? Or is it potion based?"

Snape answered automatically. "It's closer to a loyalty oath. The charm Morsmordre is combined with a protean charm, and exchange of blood and a tracking spell."

"What cancels Morsmordre?"

Snape was still slightly dazed and hadn't caught on to where Harry's questioning was going.

"A simple Finite Incantatem will do if it is properly applied."

Harry considered that for several moments. He had an idea that could help a great many things, but Snape would never let him try it. The man was shell-shocked at the idea that Harry had anything in common with the Dark Lord.

But... If Harry could do it before Snape snapped out of this, then it would be done.

Also, that strong voice he'd heard in his dreams occasionally was telling him he was absolutely right.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, Harry thought as he walked around the table. He grasped the man's arm and pushed the sleeve up before Snape could realize what was happening. Even as a protest formed on Snape's lips, Harry pulled out his penknife and slashed his left hand. He resolutely focussed all his mind on that link he shared with Voldemort then concentrated on the mark, wrapping one hand around it and pointing his wand at it with the other hand. In a strong voice, Harry muttered the cancelling charm for the tracking spell along with a very powerful Finite Incantatem.

This was not the methode that was meant to be used to erase the mark. Indeed, Voldemort had never designed any cancelling effect on the Mark whatsoever. Never the less, it was effective. Harry felt a searing pain through his scar as Voldemort raged. He took this as evidence his spell was working and he continued. When the spell had ended, Harry closed his mind and tried to force the pain away. It worked, but just barely and by the time he was again aware of his surroundings, he was no longer standing beside his father.

Harry found himself sitting on the sofa, strong arms wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders. He sighed in relief and allowed himself to lay there for several moments before alerting the person holding him that he was alright.

His eyes shifted down and he saw the pale fore-arm he'd exposed. It was completely unblemished. Only after he'd noted this, did Harry recognize the man holding him. Almost as if his mind had been waiting for that recognition, Harry was suddenly aware that Snape was muttering something just beside his ear. The tone was soft and comforting, but Harry had to hold back a snicker when he realized what the man was saying.

"Foolish child," he muttered. "Impertinent brat... Stupid. Bloody. Gryffindor! What goes on in that thick skull of yours I will never know..."

Harry coughed once when he tried to speak, but then his voice sounded normally. "I was thinking I knew what to do and this would be my one and only chance."

Snape stiffened, then squeezed tighter for a moment before releasing Harry.

"Do you have any idea what you could have done? What you did?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, I could have completely lost my mind to Voldemort or worse. What I did was eliminate his only means of tracking and or punishing you. Oh, and I probably alerted him to how this stupid link works I'd venture to say he probably knows the mark is gone too, if how angry he was is any indication."

Snape was speechlessly examining his arm, running his hand back and forth over the clear, unblemished skin.

Harry added, "I also did a mild healing charm to repair the major nerves in that arm. The Mark slowly deteriorates the major nerves and you would have, ultimately, had sever tremors in that hand."

Snape seemed beyond anger and beyond gratitude at the same time. He couldn't stop looking at his bare forearm.

Harry would have enjoyed seeing the Potions Master like this under any other circumstances, but just now he was too tired to care.

Waking up in someone's arms was something Harry had never experienced before. He'd woken up and, for that instant, known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was not alone. There was someone there to take care of things and he need not worry about anything just then. At the moment, all he wanted was to go back to that place that he'd dreamed about all too often. He laid back on the couch, comfortably leaning against his father's side, and drifted off to the man's incomprehensible mutters.

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Snape regarded his sleeping son carefully. He was mostly unwilling to move. The boy seemed so comfortable, lying there and he definitely needed the rest.

Earlier, when the boy had eliminated his Mark, for just an instant, their minds had been connected. He saw a depth of Harry Potter's mind that the boy may not even know existed. It hadn't been a long look, nor a thorough one, but he understood everything that had occurred in Harry's mind during that brief instant. He understood completely what the boy had put into those spells and he'd felt the intense pain that opening that link to the Dark Lord caused.

Snape knew he should be writing this sudden epiphany down. At the very least he should be committing every detail to memory. But, for this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

For now, he was enjoying holding his son close while the boy slept, something he'd likely never get to do again.

The boy was curled up against his side, occasionally snuggling closer as the odd thought overtook his brain. Snape gently carded a hand through the boy's hair in a soothing motion as the child whimpered softly.

The sound was barely audible, but it was obviously that of remembered pain.

That a fourteen year old should dream of pain and tortures was unthinkable, but it apparently happened. Harry was living proof. The boy should be dreaming of Quidditch and having to give a class presentation naked like normal people.

He shifted his free hand to smooth the boy's hair back from his brow. The motion revealed the altered curse-scar that still remained an angry red. Snape worried about it for a moment, but the skin was cool and smooth. It seemed the colour was superficial.

At his touch, however, the boy calmed slightly. Snape kept at it until Harry was sleeping soundly and apparently undisturbed. After a time, a slight smile curled Harry's lips.

At this evidence that he was sleeping soundly, Snape lifted his son off his chest and laid him out on the sofa with a warm blanket wrapped around him.

Silently, he paced the room. This was an interesting twist to things. Yes, he was still wanted by the Dark Lord and yes, so was Harry... But now he had no way to track them. Harry's magical signature was constantly changing and impossible to trace just now and without the Mark...

But neither of them should stay here. It was simply too obvious and Hogwarts was not impenetrable.

And he felt as if he simply had to leave this castle or he might go insane, though he would not be consciously adding that to his list of reasons.

Snape tossed a handful of floo powder into the fire and called for Dumbldore.

In only a few minutes, they had made an arrangement. Of course, Dumbldore only knew half the story. Snape had said only that he had discovered a way to negate the tracking magic. The Headmaster, of course, was delighted that he was willing to take care of Harry...

They were ready to leave when Harry awoke.