A/N: Another chapter, another day, another usual disclaimer.

Thanks, as usual, to everyone who reviewed – and if someone could tell me if review responses are allowed as part of author notes at the end and beginning, I would really appreciate it, as I seem to come across tons of fics that do this, and yet harbour the feeling that it's banned by the good old folks here at I've reread the guidelines, but it makes it no clearer – please contact me if you've actually had an experience over the matter, so I'll know what to do…

Now, enjoy yourself with this one, folks…sorry I haven't been able to update till now…

Chapter 5: A Snape Discovered

Albus Dumbledore was really not having a good day.

He popped into sight, conveniently hidden by the bent, creaking limbs of the small copse of trees not too far from Snape Manor. Birds and other frightened creatures raised an angry tumult around him as he broke his way through the close trees, careful to Disillusion himself before starting. He'd never been able to find that so-called path Severus consistently insisted was here somewhere –

The Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed at the thought of the harried, frantic spy. He'd appeared in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts about five nights ago, greatly disturbed in mind and body. Albus had barely been able to extract a coherent answer from the man, that time.

Like so many other times…

Albus shook his head carefully as he finally broke through the thinning trees, then stopped short – silently, he'd made sure of that – in disgust. He was on the other side of the copse, in the opposite direction from the imposing, crumbling cluster of buildings. Sighing in renewed frustration, he began to edge quietly round the trees, keeping an eye out for anyone and anything.

Fine start to the evening, indeed –

Albus sighed again. Tonight would be difficult – moreso than the three nights of the past week in which he'd taken the same responsibility and the same trip, at this very hour.

And that was saying something. Albus shook his head wearily, almost forgetting he was alone. He could almost hear that impatient, cracking voice sneering back at Remus the very first night he'd come, bearing the ghastly news of the Dursleys' demise.

"Well," Harry said icily, "that settles it, then." Remus turned wearily towards the blank aspect of the teenager.

"Settles what?" Albus' shoulders sank. One thing never to ask Harry now was why, or what –

"It means I'm not there, doesn't it?" Albus had shut his eyes momentarily. Such uncaring statements – from the boy who was supposed to save them all…

Albus' old features tightened. That boy, as he and Remus had begun to realise, had barely been able to save himself –

The old man grimaced, feeling the razor-sharp wards pass over him as he crossed the boundary. Another new wound – another failure – same person, as usual, same –

Enough!

Albus slipped stealthily through the back gate of the Manor, navigating the wild gardens easily from practice. He stopped on the threshold of the garden door, to catch his breath.

To ready himself, in truth. To meet the – the saviour he'd created, with his mistakes and folly and hidden secrets and mistaken pride…

That saviour was still a stone beneath his normal weight. He still looked awful, with mottled skin and badly healing cuts and bruises everywhere on his pale, skinny, painfully lengthening form. All of the above, actually, had some sort of root in the dratted and forever blasted Enchantment Strengthener necessity had forced upon Harry at Hogwarts, a fact he continued to raise and refer to again and again to the weary werewolf and harassed Headmaster tending him.

Albus sighed, entering the Manor house. Harry's death had thrown the wizarding world into a furore – effectively halting all goings on at Hogwarts for more than two weeks. The Ministry of Magic was regaining strength under the paranoia of Minister Orwell, and clamping down on the rest of the prisoners in Azkaban and cinching tight the security around the comings and goings of the Ministry of Magic building so that it approached impossibility to penetrate it without significant cost. Phillip Orwell and his old, crafty father had scheduled yet another meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts for later in the day, to discuss implementing higher security for the children of magical Britain. It was cutting it fine to be here now – he looked quickly at his pocket watch – but he'd wanted to be there when Severus returned from making the urgent trip to Romania. Albus winced a little – another mistake, he reminded himself. The frantic Headmaster had not foreseen the attack on the home of the Dursleys, had thought, effectively, that they would have been safe for a little while…

Albus winced again. The wards had had to be taken down – had been essential to remove the guard – no one could be spared, with all the other attacks occurring. No one could be trusted –

Albus Dumbledore squared his shoulders, purging his frantic mind from all thought about Harry's current situation. He would not, could not think about this now, not when he had to make this – this decision.

His palms perspired at the very thought of the stark plan ahead of the painfully thin boy somewhere below as he navigated the mazelike corridors of the dusty house. It was so unprecedented, so ambitious – but then, it had to be; it was, literally, do – or die.

So many things were, now.

Dumbledore frowned as he uttered the complex charm to reveal the hidden staircase that led to the dungeons below. Even now, even as events were straining out of his control, he still had this decision, this awful, life-changing decision, hanging over him.

Severus, as tired as he'd been on the Thursday afternoon before he'd left for Romania, had stared at him when he'd voiced his doubts. For him, there clearly was no decision. Albus sighed. In this matter, for this – decision – Severus was near useless. He was rapidly becoming incapable of objectivity in all things concerning – concerning Harry. Oh, he would help, but, as always, it was left to Albus to make the final decision.

In a way, it was simple. Or, at least, one major part of it was: to decide whether Harry would be safer in Hogwarts was easy – yes.

But, Albus told himself, hearing the beginnings of a faint argument as he walked slowly towards Harry's dungeon, to think – to decide – if Hogwarts would be safe with Harry in it –

The prospect of finding half of Hogwarts razed to the ground had seemed even less implausible when Albus had sparked the embers of Harry's rage the second time that week. It had been on his second visit to the stifling room before him now, and he had been trying to draw the sullen boy out of the hard, brittle exterior that belied his weak, near-skeletal state.

Albus cringed, now, at the galling memory. He'd said something – something about Harry seeing his friends again, or telling them about what had happened, and suddenly Harry's voice had begun to rise higher and higher in argument. At the very end, he'd gone from a near scream to a low, dangerous tone, the waves of rage flowing off him, making the room seem like a furnace. It had been Harry who had told Albus to leave, that first, shocking Sunday. The second time, it had been Remus who had pleaded with him – face drawn – to let him deal with it.

And Albus had left, heart bleeding within him. How things had come to this pass – how the boy he'd watched over with unceasing affection had come to only tolerate his presence – was no mystery. Oh, Albus knew – he knew every detail – his mind could calculate and surmise those he did not, in any case – but it did not lessen or mitigate the sting, did not shield his heart from the suffocating self-loathing that had surged anew in his breast at the horrible look he'd seen in the eyes of their saviour.

He knew, too, that it would fall to him to – to do something, if their hero decided there were better ways to live, that there was a brotherhood more – more solicitous of his need for something that had helped shape the current plague on the wizarding world.

Albus forcibly shook off the feeling of mingled helplessness and apprehension. The door opened at another password, and –

" – if you think I'm going to drink that, you must be bloody out of your fucking mind, Remus – "

Albus tried not to flinch at that harsh, scraping voice. So different from the voice from a month before –

"You know you need the Strengthening Solution, Harry – "

"No – I – DON'T!"

"Harry," Remus was saying, back to Albus as he silently closed the door with a wave of his wand. "Severus said – "

"I know what Severus SAID, Remus – I was awake – " Harry was spitting out. He paused as his green eyes, full of determination and – something that had become an almost permanent fixture on his sharper, more angular features – contempt. Remus turned at that point, sighing in relief as Albus walked calmly over to the table of dwindling potions Severus had hurriedly left behind before his departure almost four days ago…

That was another thing he'd learned.

Show no fear. Show no heightened emotion –

"Thank Merlin you're here, Albus – "

"Maybe you'll tell him my system can't take any more bloody Solution – maybe he'll actually listen to you – "

"He's refused two doses already, Albus," Remus interspersed hastily, waving the two requisite vials as he crossed over to the table. Harry slumped against the headboard behind him, rolling his eyes.

"I've read about Strengthening Solution, Remus – plus you've forgotten how much has been in my system already, Severus gave me some – "

"Professor Snape gave you some!" Remus snapped back spinning to face the hard-eyed teen.

"Gentlemen, please – " Albus shrugged off his outer robe, reinforcing the Heating Charm that Remus had probably – understandably – neglected in his dealings with the stubborn Boy-Who-Lived.

Who has certainly earned his name –

Albus pushed down the impulse to shake his head, to get rid of the taunting voice that, with every word, with every cadence, seemed to remind him of each and every one of his failures. Harry, sad to say, was probably correct in this instance – his skin had a sallow, greenish tinge to it that spoke of a slight overuse of Strengthening Solution, as well as one or more other ingredients that occurred in the Solution and in the various other potions the boy so desperately needed.

"I think," Harry was saying, through gritted teeth, "that I've earned the right to call him by any bloody name I want!"

"You owe him RESPECT – "

Clearly the situation, as always, was about to get out of hand.

"Harry – Remus – calm down," Dumbledore ordered, raising a hand in careful signal. "Remus, Harry is right – "

"Finally – " Albus gave the triumphant boy a firm look, feeling thankful that Harry would pay heed to it, still.

" – but that was no reason to shout at him, as you did, Harry," Albus finished carefully. He maintained his calm façade as he watched Harry's eyes gain a vicious sheen, hoping –

"How the hell could I help it – he was driving me round the bend, for Merlin's sake – " Harry changed his tone to an appallingly close imitation of Remus' usual voice and calm tone – " 'Harry, don't you think you should take that Solution now'; 'Harry – you'd better take it'; 'Harry, Severus said'; 'Harry, you'd better take it or you'll die, even though you've gone the last twelve bleeding hours without it and you still appear to be breathing' – "

"Harry!" Albus made his voice as cold as he could bear, his heart sinking as Harry's eyes merely focused on the drained werewolf at the table beside him.

At least he'd stopped.

"That," Albus got out, with some effort, watching Remus' hands clench around the vials he was mixing two potions into, "was completely out of order." Blue eyes hardened, focusing on the uncooperative green ahead. "Apologise. Now."

The silence weighed heavy on the three men, as green eyes simply narrowed in response. Albus' heart beat fast – please, Harry – just do it –

"I take it I'm not intruding…?"

The snide tone of Severus Snape had never sounded so melodious to Albus as it did now. Remus fairly jumped, head shooting round to peer at the limping, rather ragged spy, defiant as always.

Lip curling, black eyes narrowed in thought. So he heard –

"No," was Remus' slightly strangled answer, as he jerkily set down the mixed vial, closing the bottles with an almost clumsy rapidity. "The – the Headmaster and I were just discussing my departure – "

Merlin, Harry – say something –

"Giving up so soon?"

– but not that. Anything, anything would have been better –

Remus' muscles clenched, and the tension in the room suddenly mended itself.

All Albus could think of was seeing Remus' desperate face light up when he stepped into the same room a week earlier, and –

A sigh punctuated the tension. From Harry, whose eyes were now directed at his hands in his lap.

"I shouldn't have said that, should I?" His voice was softer, more weary. Dumbledore searched his drawn face, heart clenching just a little – a little more –at the strained, desperate look on Harry's face as he continued. "I'm – I'm sorry. I think."

It was telling that none of the wizards within the dungeon expressed surprise over the boy's nonchalant-seeming action.

Remus gulped, hard, beside Albus. He could see the emotions playing across the werewolf's high-strung body, feel them emanating from him, as he slowly made his answer.

"I – I was going to leave, anyway, Harry – no need to – to feel…" Remus' strained voice drifted off for a minute or two. He breathed in and out, ignoring the low snort that sounded suspiciously like Severus behind them, then continued. "I need to show my face – make sure no one's worried about me – see Tonks…" Remus looked at the suddenly tired old man beside him. This was all so – "Headmaster…I'll return on Monday evening, as – as promised…Should I tell…?"

"Not yet, Remus…" Albus gave the spy behind him – rolling his eyes, he'd expected that – a hard look. Now was not the time to discuss the hasty plan they'd cooked up – he had to try, first, with Harry, to see if he'd talk about his – experience – "No one. We cannot risk it, for now." He could feel black eyes on him as he watched a shaken Remus Lupin wearily depart, Disillusioning himself at the door.

And it was entirely true.

They honestly could not risk inflicting this raw, bitter, unhealed Harry on the panicked wizarding world…or, as Albus increasingly thought, on Hogwarts.

So, Albus reminded himself, as Severus moved purposefully for the near-empty table of potions, we will inflict someone else, by Merlin's beard.

Tobias Snape.

Severus Snape sat down at his – Harry Potter's bedside with a thump. He felt worn out in the extreme – entirely unable to deal with any further comments from the glaring boy. It had been a tumultuous week in every regard, and Severus had barely had time to close his eyes every night.

First, of course, there had been the terrifying journey back to the Headmaster after destroying the last real refuge of his – Potter. The Headmaster had appeared to have taken the news more calmly than was possible – he had simply sought out the spy's tired eyes with his own, and asked him to get himself washed and dressed, and to catch a few hours of rest.

That was one of the small acts that had begun to inure Dumbledore back into his seething Potions Master's good graces, for, as Severus had discovered, he had needed that rest. Badly. He woke early on Monday, as was usual, only to discover Dumbledore within his chambers, sipping tea. They had had a rapid, near-silent, wary breakfast, and taken an hour afterwards to discuss the issue that had been weighing on their minds.

It was relatively simple, and – like many simple problems – astoundingly complex. Severus could not stop himself from giving the ungrateful boy a sneer before commencing with a much-needed check-up – no telling what foolery the werewolf wrought on him – by asking him a series of questions.

"Now, Potter, before I can safely dose you with anything more, I will need some important, simple information. Try to answer quickly and simply – I am extremely tired, and therefore in no state to bandy insults about with a skeletal teenager this evening. Is that clear?"

Har – Potter – scowled, but made no real objection. Severus hid his relief – if that had not worked, he would have had no idea whatsoever as to how to go about this very much needed check-up. Severus retrieved a bent quill and a scrap of parchment from within his robes – charmed parchment that would remember all the information that was needed – and, true to his word, asked away.

"Now, if you would oblige me by raising your right hand…?"

And the check-up began, as the boy raised his hand – painstakingly, undoubtedly some residual pain, probably from his changing body – "…right, your left hand…? Are you in pain, Potter? If so, you should have informed Lupin – I left behind a rather powerful pain-killing draught, as you well know." Severus fixed the boy with his black eyes, watching the ever more familiar features curl into what resembled a sneer that could, with time, expertly mirror his own. "I hope," he added scathingly, ignoring the warning look – no, the warning feeling flowing off the Headmaster, "I hope that you did not succumb to any foolish Gryffindor tendencies in this matter, as – "

"Look, I'm acquainted with pain, Severus – " The man hardly kept from wincing at the utter scorn the boy now, it seemed, continuously added to the name – surely – " – this is hardly as bad as it can get, and I'm willing to put up with it as long as the change goes faster." Severus paused in surprise, wondering where and when the boy had picked up so many – "The draught would have slowed the change, right?" The look of challenge in Harry – Potter's eyes was not fazing in the least. Severus' sneer increased – the boy had a lot to learn of intimidation –

"Will you teach him, Severus? Freely?"

Severus shoved the image, the memory, out of sight. He was acutely aware of Harry's abilities as a Legilimens – as foolish as it probably seemed from an outsider's point of view, from what he'd seen of the boy this week, he would certainly stop at nothing to gain an advantage of any sort over him. The only way he could see to ensure a measure of respect from Harry – Potter, now, would be to stay as far ahead of him as possible, with regards to knowledge.

Or, at least, Severus was beginning to think so –

"Well?" Potter arrogantly waved a – thinner, much thinner – hand in front of Severus' face. The Potions Master glared at him for a minute, before continuing – he honestly could not afford to forget himself like that –

"You are correct," Severus forced out, watching Harry's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Good, the boy was pleased – at least something pleased him, if it was only annoying his father –

An image of his folly of that first night, clutching at the brat as if he were a drowning man, assaulted him without warning. Severus rose from his seat immediately, to forestall the strong urge he had to touch the boy – to see if he was real, insults and rage and all –

"Now – have you been able to rise much, this past week?"

And the check-up continued without much of an interruption from either side, Severus absentmindedly re-spelling vials that were already clean – bloody filthy werewolf, spoiling this table like that – as he ascertained little to cheer his, or even Dumbledore's heart. Harry was still very weak – he could probably walk in a few days, when the lingering effects of the Strengthening Solutions – that fool of a Lupin, overdosing the boy – wore off, and his magic was certainly gaining in normal quantities. What niggled was the boy's seemingly endless fount of anger – simmering constantly beneath the surface, making Severus watch what he said and did with a vigour normally reserved for his – ah – associates.

He watched Albus as well – the old fool was certainly overdoing it, as usual, and obviously rather distressed at Harry's condition. Severus snorted to himself as he listened to Albus' latest, halting attempt to ask his – Potter the details of his captivity and escape. The old man was probably still hung up on that so-called 'decision' he'd spoken of when revealing his – rather imaginative, Severus grudgingly allowed, again – plans for Harr – Potter.

Albus had decided to send the boy back to Hogwarts, only not as himself. It made perfect sense – Potter had changed, irrevocably, and he would be considerably safer and more relaxed if he did not have to worry overmuch about the Dark Lord stalking his every move, as would surely happen. This way, he could finish the education he might need in event of the useless war's cessation, receive more much-needed training, and be firmly under Severus' sharp eye.

The man went over the complex plan in his head again, testing it for flaws. There were few of them – Dumbledore had insisted on creating an iron-cast identity for the boy, and leaving a trail of paperwork that would be unearthed by any overly curious eyes. Potter, Severus thought, rather nastily, to himself, was to be his nephew – mandated and supported by his relatives from Romania. It would be hard work training him, moulding him so he spoke and behaved appropriately, but it would pay off in terms of the boy's security. For the two men had agreed, almost immediately, that the awkward arrangement currently in place could not go on indefinitely, what with all of their pressing engagements and various problems and responsibilities.

Severus now began to alter the remaining Strengthening Solution – it needed to be diluted greatly, as Harry's system was not dealing with the overdose well at all, and he wished to finish that before Albus left, so he could try to pry a few more secrets from the old man, who was obviously continuing in his habit of holding his cards close to his chest concerning the boy, despite the fact that Snape was his father, and would undoubtedly need to know any extra details that the Headmaster was wont to cook up.

The Solution was ready sooner than he'd thought, and all that was left, now, was to fight with his stubborn – immeasurably foolish – son, and try to bully him into taking the Sleeping Draught he'd fished out of his potions case.

"What about my questions?" Harry was shouting back at him. "None of you still tell me anything – "

" – and that is because nothing has been decided yet!" Severus snapped back, shoving the slightly smoking vial into the boy's unwilling hands. He cursed himself momentarily as Harry's darker green eyes narrowed – he should really not have –

"So that's what you're doing – sending me to bed like your good little boy so you can discuss where to cram me in the morning?"

"If it helps, yes," Severus hissed back, maliciously, disregarding Albus' look of constraint. The boy glared at him, fingers gripping the vial tightly. "And you'll drink that draught, boy – I've been watching you, too. You can't fool me the same way you fool that werewolf – you haven't been sleeping well, have you?" He sneered triumphantly at the colour that rose into Harry's cheeks. "Drink – now."

"And what if I say no?"

"I'll Stun you," Severus put forth coolly, going to lean against the cleaner, more presentable table. He felt a surge of satisfaction at the look of surprise and consternation on Harry's face as he withdrew his wand – which, after the last week of hectic activity, looked slightly worse for the wear. Harry looked sharply at Dumbledore – praise Merlin, the old man's face was serene – Severus felt almost giddy with their success –

"Don't think this is over, Severus…" Harry issued forth, eyes shining with repressed anger as he drank the hot vial down, uncaring of how it splashed on his clothes and – Severus winced – his already mottled skin. It made his heart clench to see how the boy shrugged off the pain, falling rather unwillingly into a deep slumber he knew would last for a few hours.

"Merlin alive," Albus said, wearily, from behind him. "I was beginning to think he'd never go to sleep, Severus."

"I am only glad he thought not to think of your involvement, Headmaster," Severus replied, just as wearily, sinking into a chair beside his son's bed. "You have an appointment, Headmaster?" Dumbledore nodded, rising from the seat he'd remained in for most of the conversation. "Then I should tell you the news now…our attempt to gain the support of my relatives has succeeded – rather too well." Severus leant forward, unconsciously reaching out to take a closer look at his son's hair, which he'd not dared to do earlier, or had the patience to even ask – "His hair was not this long when I left, Albus – "

Severus barely noticed the slight relaxation that seemed to come over the old man, who drew just as close to the subject of their conversation.

"It grows abnormally fast – probably part of the changes, and partly a result of the strong doses of Solution we gave him, Severus." Albus took a seat directly opposite the spy, waving away the concerned look the man gave him. "I have some time yet – my appointment is for five o'clock, not four." Seeing the tired nod of the other man – his feet ached, for no good reason – Dumbledore continued with the question that had probably been pressing upon him ever since Severus had returned. "Severus…is the plan feasible?"

"Completely so, Headmaster," Severus replied, peering at the grimy hair beneath his fingers. It would almost certainly have to be cut – "As I said before, my relatives took to the concept rather too well. They have agreed to accept falsified memories of the boy, and to pass on as much of the inheritance to him as is needed. They even wish to meet him, for reasons completely unknown to me, as I told them as little as I could of his true identity – "

"You will contact them again, Severus," the Headmaster interrupted decisively. "You will ask them to pass on all of the inheritance – most through you, if possible – "

"But – Headmaster – "

"It may be necessary, Severus," Albus replied sharply, rising from his chair. "And if the plan does not – succeed quite the way it should, you will have responsibility over most of the funds – " Severus' lips thinned.

"You still think there is a decision to be made, don't you?" he offered quietly. Really, the man had blinded himself to their predicament in some ways – Severus could think of nothing more damaging than the other possible alternative they had discussed for his – for Potter –

"Will you inform him of his choices, Severus?"

Avoiding my question, as always, Severus thought, rather bitterly. The man never changes, does he –

"Yes, Headmaster." Albus sighed, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Severus – "

"You quite understand my views of the matter, Albus. I will inform him of everything he needs to know, as we agreed." Severus gave the old man a glance as he began to leave. "I will do my best, Headmaster."

Albus nodded, relieved, and left the dungeon, closing the door with a soft clang.

Severus smiled, darkly, to himself. Of course, doing his best would mean making sure that his – the boy wanted to follow through with what his father thought was the better plan, but, of course, Albus didn't need to know that.

As Severus felt his eyelids begin to droop, he reminded himself to be careful. Ensuring the correct outcome for tonight's deliberations…would not…be…easy…

A/N: Don't worry, I'm uploading the two monsterish chapters at the same time, so stay put – you'll get your fix in a minute…