Sorry guys for the delay, Here it is, at last, chapter 17, beta readed by Joycelyn Solo. Enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen: No Safe Place

When Connor returned home later that weekend, the atmosphere seemed to have calmed down a little. Or maybe it was just Mr. Snape's absence: lately he barely spent any time at the house as he was busy, it seemed, catching up with old friends.

However, Severus was as absent-minded as he was before Connor left. The boy soon had a chance to find out when he saw how little affected Severus was by the news he gave him. News that, in the child's eyes, were extremely relevant.

'Mum's got a boyfriend,' he announced, without so much as a warning. At first, Severus didn't look up from the parchment he was writing. 'She introduced me to him when I went to her house.'

When Severus kept writting without saying nothing, Connor grew impatient. 'Hello? Are you listening to me?'

Finally, his mentor looked up. 'Sorry. What did you say?'

Connor suppressed a snort. 'My mum's got a boyfriend.'

For some reason he couldn't understand (after all, it had been quite a shock for him), Severus didn't look that surprised. 'Oh, really?' He eyed Connor carefully. 'How do you feel about that?'

Connor thought about it. How did he feel about the idea of his mother having a boyfriend?

At first, he'd been a little shocked. To his childish mind, the idea of a mother having a boyfriend was...weird. After all, all his friends' mothers had husbands, not boyfriends. However, later on he remembered that Jacob Collins' father had a girlfriend, now that he'd gotten divorced from his wife. Maybe it worked the same way for mothers. And now that he came to think of it, how would people marry a second time if they didn't have a boyfriend/girlfriend first? It was kind of silly, wasn't it?

'Dunno,' he finally answered. 'He seems nice. He's American, like Mum. She met him in Los Angeles some years ago. And he plays the guitar, but not like the eclectical one Spike has. His name's Lindsey.'

Severus nodded, but he seemed to have lost interest in the subject, which irritated Connor. For him, it was a very serious matter. After all, there was a possibility that this Lindsey would turn into his mother's new husband. He didn't know whether that would be good or not. But it was important, and Severus didn't seem to care.

Of course, it wasn't his mother. Connor frowned. He'd never heard Severus talking about his mum. Was she still alive? Had her and Mr. Snape got divorced like Jacob's parents?

Connor shrugged. If Severus didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't ask. Instead, he focused again on his homework, although his mind kept wondering about Lindsey. He seemed like a cool bloke. It was a little soon to say, but Connor decided that he didn't mind him dating his mum.

Who knew, maybe one day he would get a little brother and all...

'Can I go to Stuart's house tomorrow?'

Sirius glanced at Harry through the mirror, then returned his gaze to the road ahead.

'Stuart who?'

Harry let out an impatient sigh. 'Stuart Nevers. He sits behind me in all my classes! We've been friends for a month, remember?'

Sirius frowned in concentration (trying his best not to laugh at the way Harry said "a month" as if it were an eternity) until he managed to remember.

'A tall one with freckles?'

The child nodded. 'That one. Can I?'

Sirius bit his lower lip, knowing his answer wouldn't please the boy.

'We'll see, Harry.'

The child's eyes widened. 'But it's his birthday party!'

'I said we'll see.' He grabbed the wheel a little tighter, making his knuckles turn white. Harry was a perceptive kid. But, after all, he was just a kid, so he didn't notice this, neither did he notice the tense tone of his godfather or the slight frown on his forehead.

'It's so unfair,' he muumbled, loud enough so Sirius could hear him. 'I can never go anywhere. And I can't even go to school by the school bus like all the other kids!'

You aren't like the other kids, Harry.

Sirius took a deep breath and tried to relax his tense shoulders.

'I told you we'd see. Please, Harry, don't act like a small child'. But he is a small child. So small, so vulnerable...

He stopped the car in front of Harry's school. The boy rushed to grab his bag and jumped out the car.

'Bye, Harry. Good luck at school,' Sirius said, in a forcibly cheerful voice. The child turned just for a second, saying "bye, Sirius" somewhat grudgingly, and ran towards a crowd of boys his age. Sirius sighed. Great. Now Harry was mad at him over that stupid birthday party.

He tried to turn on the car, but the old engine took a moment to start. Damned second-hand car, he hissed through gritted teeth, damned Muggle car.

No one who saw him with that poor excuse of a car would have said he was a rich heir of a large sum of gold. Neither would someone who saw his small house.

But it's not like I can walk into Gringotts and exchange Galleons for Pounds whenever I want, can I?'

After the second time his and Harry's whereabouts had been revealed to the Wizarding world (yes, ladies and gentleman, there had been a second time) Dumbledore had asked Sirius to be extra cautious. One of the things he'd told Sirius was not to go to Gringotts too often, especially not to get Muggle money. That would make too evident how Sirius was hiding. Hell, Sirius had had to ask for authorization to see that idiot Burkes. Dumbledore had asked him to have as little contact with the Wizarding world as possible, which meant he barely saw Remus or Andromeda anymore. Merlin, he didn't even get to see Arabella Figg anymore. He'd never thought he'd miss that mad cat-lover, but he sort of did. It was terribly lonely sometimes, not having anyone to talk about old times.

Dumbledore had also talked with Sirius about the potential danger new relationships could represent, last time Harry's address had been discovered. The old wizard suspected that someone Sirius or Harry new (a friend, a neighbour or perhaps a teacher) had given away the information, either on purpouse or accidentally. That couldn't happen again.

This meant that Sirius had to be extra careful with the people he and Harry related to. That was why he'd turned so – paranoid – cautious with Harry's new friends at school. You could never know which family had distant connections with the Wizarding world, or who would talk if questioned.

Who would have guessed that the infamously reckless Sirius Black would be so distrusting? Who would have guessed that the most sociable and popular boy at Hogwarts would live like an hermit, without any contact with anyone? In the eight months they'd been living there, Sirius hadn't made a single friend, or at least an acquaintance to go to a football match every now and then. All his social interaction had been reduced to doing small talk with his coworkers or the parents of Harry's classmates, and one-night-dates with unknown girls in different clubs.

And much to his dismay, Harry's social life wasn't much better: Sirius made him turn down half of the invitations to other childern's houses he received. What the boy would never know was how much that pained Sirius. He knew very well what a ridiculously over-protected childhood was, and he hadn't wanted James' son to go through that.

But what other option did he have? Harry's safety was above everything else. Sure, it hurt Sirius to see how his godson turned into a lonely boy, but it'd be much worse if something happened to Harry. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Harry was hurt or...

The hate mail and the threats Sirius had received eight months ago (without Harry ever finding out) had affected him more than he would have liked to admit. It was true than many of them had been sent by loonies who probably couldn't hurt a fly, but there had been a few that were truly scary. Someone had sent a diagram of Harry's daily activities, and attached to it several magical pictures of him that had been taken at different times and days. Other letters had been more explicit.

That had been when the nightmares began. Dreadful nightmares, in which Harry was terribly injured or dead, and he saw James' and Lily's faces, both reproaching him for what had happened to their only son...

Could anybody be surprised that Sirius fretted every time Harry wasn't under his watch? Could anyone blame him for checking the time every few minutes when Harry was at one of his friends' house? Was it so surprising that his heart skipped a beat when he saw in the news that something bad had happened to a child, and he wondered "what if"...?

The only times when Sirius felt at ease were those in which Harry was under his watch, or when he was at school. The rest of the time, it was a never-ending nightmare for Sirius.

As he finally managed to start the car and drove away, Sirius remembered Harry's last invitation. He would have to give him an answer...but not now. Not now.

Severus Snape was utterly annoyed. It seemed like the whole universe was conspiring against him.

Dumbledore had called an urgent staff meeting (why couldn't those take place during school hours?) that evening. The problem was that he didn't know what to do with Connor, as the child had refused to go to Mrs. Frobisher's again.

'I'm not a small kid anymore,' he protested. 'I could stay here.'

Snape raised his eyebrows. 'On your own? No way.'

Connor frowned, and for a second Snape thought he'd start pouting. But Connor had never been one of those children.

'Can I go with you, then?'

'I don't think so. No one will be able to take care of you.'

The boy looked annoyed. 'I don't need to be babysat! I'm nine already.'

In that moment, his father walked into the room. After casting one glance at each other's faces, he asked:

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing, Father. It's just that I have to leave and I don't want to leave Connor alone.'

His father glanced at Connor, then looked back at his son. 'I could watch over him.'

Startled, it took Snape a moment to realise his father was serious. He looked at Connor, certain he'd refuse...but to his shock, Connor shrugged.

'I don't mind.'

Mr. Snape didn't smile, but seemed satisfied. 'See? All settled. Now you can go.'

Snape realised he was already late. With one last dubious glance at Connor, and pushing his uneasy thoughts to the back of his mind, Snape left the house.

After half an hour of getting bored to death, Mr. Snape suggested Connor go for a walk. He accepted, and they left a note for Severus.

Since he'd got back from his mother's house, Mr. Snape had been almost civil to him. Connor suspected this had more to the with loss of interest than with a newfound politeness. Either way, it was an improvement, and Connor tried to be as civil as he could. His mother had given him a way too long talk about manners, and had made him promise he'd try his best to be polite with Mr. Snape. Grudgingly he'd promised, and so here he was now, enjoying – well, not suffering, at least – a walk with the old man.

As they got outside the village, Mr. Snape led the conversation, asking Connor a lot of weird questions, which the boy tried to answer as well as possible.

First, he asked how came he'd come to live with Severus. Connor gave him the official version, which for some reason didn't seem to satisfy him. However, he did not push the subject. Instead, he asked Connor how often he visited his mother.

'Once a week, and more often during school holidays.'

Mr. Snape looked pensive. 'Does she always pick you up?'

Connor nodded, surprised by the change of subject. 'Severus doesn't like Muggle London.'

'And does she stay long at Severus' house?'

'Hmm... As long as I pick up my stuff'.

Mr. Snape frowned. 'So she and Severus don't spend a lot of time alone?'

Connor was feeling more and more confused by the minute. 'No, sir.'

The boy noticed that his answer wasn't what the old man had been expecting, as his frown deepened.

'Really? Well, I gues that when you're around...' He fell silent for a moment, then he asked how long Severus and his mother had known each other. Connor shrugged.

'I had already been living with Severus for a few months when they first met.'

Mr. Snape was startled. 'You say they hadn't met...? Well, suppose they wouldn't tell you... What about your father? What do you know about him?'

Connor blinked, taken aback by his brisk tone.

'Well, he was called Liam Angel, but everybody called him Angel. He ran a detective agency in Los Angeles...' Connor frowned in concentration. 'He was very serious, but also very kind, my mum says. And Spike told me he listened to the worst music in history. And...'

Mr. Snape waved a hand to indicate Connor to shut up. He didn't ask him any more questions, but the child heard him muttering "Liam Angel? What kind of a name is that?"

Fortunately, Mr. Snape abandoned the questioning. Instead, he began telling Connor about the uses of the plants surrounding them for potion-making, and was surprised at the boy's sharp questions.

'You're smarter than I gave you credit for, boy,' he said, and Connor felt like a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. It seemed like he and Severus' dad were finally going to get on more or less well.

They had left Hogsmeade behind, and they had circled around Hogwarts' outer limits. They finally reached a zone where there were no stone walls. Connor was intrigued by this.

'Why are there no walls protecting this side of the school grounds?'

Mr. Snape seemed amused by his question.

'Well, because it's not necessary at all. See those trees over there? This is the border of the Forbidden Forest.'

Connor let out a stunned 'oh.'

'But isn't it dangerous for us to be so close?'

Mr. Snape laughed. 'Of course not, boy. Didn't you know that the creatures in the Forest can't abandon it? How did you think it would be safe for the students if it were otherwise?'

Connor absorbed this new information, and as soon as he did a new question formed in his mind.

'And can people go into the school grounds from here?'

Mr. Snape raised an eyebrow. 'You mean, if they are mad enough to go in there? No, I don't think so. I mean, they can go into the woods, but they can't go to the school grounds. No matter in which direction they walked, they'd end up getting out through the same way they got in. Otherwise, the castle wouldn't be so safe.'

The boy nodded, as he kicked a little stone out of his way. They continued slowly walking along the border of the forest in silence. Connor kept darting curious glances at the dark trees, in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse of any of the creatures that lived there. However, the shadows closed in like a veil, concealing the mysteries of the woods. Probably this would be the last time he'd be so close to the Forbidden Forest, and also the last time to see why it was forbidden... He shook his head. He'd better not think like that. Last time he'd asked, in a little too eager tone, what was inside the Forest, Hagrid had paled. 'Not thinkin' of goin' in 'ere, are yeh,' he'd asked, concern creeping into his voice. 'Of course not,' Connor had replied...without looking at him in the eye.

He noticed that Mr. Snape was shooting a glance at his golden clock again . He'd been doing it a lot in the last ten minutes. Perhaps it was getting late. He was thinking that maybe he should suggest going back before Severus' meeting was over, when the old man turned to face him, an unreadable expression on his face.

'Connor,' he spoke, and the boy was surprised to hear the anxiety in his voice, 'would you mind waiting a little while here? I have to go to...check something.'

The child was surprised to see him twisting his hands nervously. He frowned. The man kept looking at him expectantly.

'Hmm, will it take long? 'Cause Severus might worry...'

The man hastened to shake his head. 'Oh, no, not at all. Ten minutes at most.'

Connor guessed that Mr. Snape wouldn't tell him what he was up to, so he merely shrugged. 'Ok.'

Mr. Snape smiled at him, a real smile. Connor automatically returned the smile, but a feeling of uneasiness revolved in the pit of his stomach, although he couldn't explain where it had come from.

The old man patted his back, muttering 'good boy' and, to the child's shock, he headed towards the woods.

'Wait,' he called after him. 'Are you going into the Forbidden Forest?'

Mr. Snape didn't bother to turn. He merely waved a hand, as if it were unimportant.

'Just the first line of trees. Don't worry,' he added, and something in his tone made Connor even more nervous, 'the dangerous creatures hide in the centre'.

And then, the shadows just engulfed him and Connor didn't see him anymore.

Harry sank down into his seat, deflated. Stuart sat next to him, a little frown on his face.

'Why wouldn't your godfather let you come to my party?'

Harry shrugged, feeling even more depressed at not knowing the answer. Stuart shook his head.

'He never lets you go anywhere,' he exclaimed, annoyed, as he began pulling out his stuff from his bag.

Harry would have liked to say that wasn't true. Sirius let him go to a lot of places...but only when he was around to watch over him.

As he mused on the world's general unfairness, he felt a knock on the back of his head. He turned around and saw, at the end of the class, a group of boys giggling and making paper balls...and using them as projectiles, it seemed. According to Harry's unfortunate experience, in every school there was a gang of bullies that existed only to make your life miserable. Harry glared at them and turned to face the blackboard. There wasn't much he could do as they were thrice his size.

Eventually, the boys stopped throwing paper balls at Harry, and aimed for the girls instead. They made a funnier target as they shrieked every time they were hit.

Then they began throwing balls at the duster bin, which was in the opposite side of the room. When this got boring, one of them pulled out a lighter and had a great idea: it would be way more funny if they ignited the balls.

They did so, and it was certainly more entertaining to send the flaming – well, not flaming, but certainly smoking – balls fly across the room whenever the teacher wasn't looking. And by the time they reached the bin, the balls weren't burning anymore.

However, one of the balls that fell into the nearly full bin was still burning. The boys didn't notice this. The teacher had finally gotten tired of their misbehavior and had started to give them a severe lecture.

Meanwhile, a thin and almost invisible column of smoke rose from the bin, all the class oblivious to it.

Severus returned home only to find it unnaturally quiet. At first, a stupid fear filled him: what if they had killed each other or something? Then more rational fears invaded him: what if one of them had gotten injured or sick and they were at St. Mungo's? What if...?

Fortunately, it didn't take him long to find the note. However, he didn't feel altogether reassured when he read it. They had gone out for a walk? His father and Connor together? It sounded strange. Once again, creepy thoughts invaded his mind. What if his father took the chance he was alone with Connor and he...?

He what? His father was already an old man, and Severus didn't doubt Connor could beat him at a race. And what would his father do anyway? Try to discipline him? His father wasn't that interested in Connor to do that, especially knowing what Snape's reaction would be.

He shook his head. He was becoming overly paranoid. His father and Connor would return soon, and then he'd see that the boy was all right and that his fears were unfounded.

Feeling a little more relaxed, Snape proceeded to take off his cloak and pour himself a glass of firewhisky. He had just made himself comfortable in his favourite armchair when the fireplace burst to life.

Startled, he jumped on his feet, nearly dropping the glass – and its contents – on the carpet. Who the hell...?

His question was soon answered when the familiar form of Darla stepped out from the fire, closely followed by her freaky friend Spike.

Snape blinked, confused. Was this one of the days Darla picked up Connor and he'd just forgotten? No, it was a Tuesday, so it couldn't be. Perhaps there was something wrong?

'Hello, Darla. Spike,' he adressed them cautiously. They didn't look very well. Darla seemed tired, and the other vampire looked angry over something. Secretly, Snape hoped it wasn't him, then he repressed the cowardly thought.

'Hello, Severus.' Darla sighed. 'Sorry to come over like this but, see, there's a problem...'

Snape raised his eyebrows, not saying nothing that could commit him. At least he knew it had nothing to do with Connor.

'See,' Darla continued, when she realised Snape wasn't going to say anything else, 'you remember what I told you about the army of Slayers, right?' Snape nodded. He'd heard the story quite a few times. 'Well, Spike and I are helping them, as you know. It seems that there's a major problem of the demoniac kind in Ireland, and I remembered you had a book that might help...'

Snape almost let out a sigh of relief. A book. All they wanted was a book. Thank Merlin.

Five minutes.

Connor had sat down against a rock, facing the mysterious forest. He examined his surroundings and entertained himself watching a flobberworm. Well, not like a flobberworm was that entertaining but...

Ten minutes.

He kept darting glances at the twisted trees, but saw no sign of Mr. Snape. But it had only been ten minutes. Connor began to try to perform juggling with some stones, failing miserably. And every now and then, he glanced back at the trees.

Fifteen minutes.

No signs of Mr. Snape yet. His surroundings had grown darker as night closed in on him. He didn't mind the darkness, though. In fact, he kind of like it. For some reason, he felt much more comfortable in the shadows than most people. Connor couldn't explain it, but at night it was like he felt more...alive. His senses seemed to sharpen: his eyesight became superb, his nostrils were filled with a dozen of intriguing smells and all the noises became clearer, while all his muscles tensed in expectation.

Like now. All his senses were alert, and he felt that he wouldn't be able to remain still much longer. His whole body seemed to be screaming for some action.

And the forest kept catching his gaze...

He shook his head. Soon Mr. Snape would come and they would return home. He'd better calm himself down.

Twenty minutes.

Connor wondered whether there might be something wrong. Could something bad have happened to Mr. Snape?.

Twenty-five minutes.

Slowly, Connor rose from the ground. He hesitated, then he took a step forward.

'Mr. Snape? Are you there,' he called in a hushed whisper. He didn't want to attract any creatures. In spite of what the old man had said, he still didn't feel altogether reassured on that matter.

He listened intently, but all that reached his ears were the whispers of the winds moving along the tress, bending slightly the grass as it passed, and a distant sound he couldn't identify, but that certainly didn't sound like a human voice or footsteps.

'Mr. Snape? Heeelloooo,' he called again, a little louder, and waited.

Thirty minutes.

Connor looked in both directions. Should he get some help or something? But perhaps it was nothing serious, and Mr. Snape might be mad at him for making a fuss. Maybe he could go to look for him on his own...

His gaze returned to the somber trees, full of surprises hidden in shadows and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

Since the first time he'd seen it, the Forbidden Forest had seemed to be calling him. Or perhaps he was just a little too curious for his own good.

He took a step forward and scrutinized the darkness. Nope, no sign of Mr. Snape. He took another step.

It would do no harm if he investigated a little, right? After all, this was probably his last chance to see the forest this close.

Another step. He felt dragged to the woods, as if he were being attracted by a magnet.

He hesitated a moment. It was a dangerous thing that he was doing. Wasn't it?

Well, Mr. Snape had said that the dangerous creatures were in the centre, hadn't he? So it wouldn't be so bad if he walked into the first line of trees...

And Connor took the final step into the shadows, without looking back.

It happened so fast that nobody had time to react. One moment, everything was almost normal – except for the tiny detail that a thickening column of smoke was coming out from the duster bin, that is. The next minute, the wind blew one of the curtains, making it touch the bin...and get in fire.

The curtains ignited fastly (they were made of a cheap plastic fabric), and the fire spread to the posters hanging on the walls next to the door. By this time, everyone had noticed what was going on, but it was already too late: a part of the curtains and some of the posters fell to the ground, in flames...just in front of the door.

The children shrieked, boys and girls alike, and the teacher tried to calm them down and control the situation. One of the children, though, had more initiative than the rest and made a logical mistake: he opened the window that was closest to him. The fire, instead of fading away, made combustion with the intake of oxygen and spread...to the wooden door, which began to burn.

Now there was no way the teacher could keep the children in control: when they saw how their one way out was engulfed by the fire, they began to scream at top of their lungs.

The poor man didn't know what to do. Preventing the students from panicking was already out of question, as their way out was covered in flames, and the fire extinguishers were in the hallway. So he did the only thing he could do.

His voice rose above his students', who fell silent. He called them to get as far from the fire as possible, and made them kneel under the desks. The following was to indicate them to breath through their T-shirts, and to inhale as little smoke as possible. Then he closed the window, hoping that the lack of oxygen would help to extinguish the fire.

Lastly, he did the only thing he could think of.

He shouted for help.

Tall, black trees rose to the sky, forming an impenetrable roof over Connor's head that almost completely blocked the rays of moonlight, leaving the forest in complete darkness.

He didn't mind, though. His excellent eyesight adjusted in few seconds, and soon he no longer tripped over the tangled roots and stretched branches that threatened to hit his face.

'Mr. Snape?' he whispered. He listened intently, but no sound reached his ears. The woods had fallen in a grave silence, only broken by the soft whisper of a breeze agitating the black trees' leaves.

He was going to call again, louder this time, but he refrained the impulse. Something told him it would be unwise to raise his voice and disturbe the forest's peaceful silence.

It didn't seem peaceful, though. Actually, Connor had the distinct impression that the sudden silence surrounding him was anything but peaceful. He couldn't explain it, but there was a tingling on the back of his neck, something that exalted his nerves. Eletricity ran through his veins, and all his body was filled with a sensation of expectation. He felt something was going to happen, and it seemed like the forest felt it too, and that everything in there – the trees, the grass, even the breeze – was holding its breath.

He was so embedded in these feelings and sensations that he didn't hear the inaudible steps behind him; he didn't sense the way too fast creatures coming closer; his superb eyesight wasn't enough to glimpse them surrounding him.

And no one could blame Connor for that. After all, their feet barely touched the ground and they knew how to move silently; their bodies didn't need to breath; their eyesight was way better than his; they knew how to take the wind's direction as an advantage, and especially they were very experienced in the art of hunting their prey without it noticing. Connor didn't stand a chance.

By the time he realised they had surrounded him, it was already too late to escape.

The dusty volume Darla had been reading fell from her trembling fingers with a thump that startled both Snape and Spike, who turned to face her.

'What's wrong, pet? Found something?'

Darla shook her head, and when she looked up they saw that her clear eyes were wide with fear. Both men looked at each other, none of them knowing what was going on. They looked back at her expectantly, but she seemed unable to speak. Whatever had happened, it had clearly terrified her. Snape felt uneasy. What in this world could terrify someone like Darla?

Seconds seemed to extend forever. Finally, she was able to say in a hushed whisper:

'Connor. He's in danger.'

And she didn't need to say anything else, because within mere seconds Snape and Spike had jumped on their feet and fled through the door, Darla following them closely.

The heat in the room increased until it resembled the Fifth Circle of Hell, while the thick smoke blackened the air.

The children had their noses pressed against the floor and were breathing through their clothes. However, many of them had already inhaled too much smoke: some were coughing; others were already showing slight signs of apshyxia, and a couple of them were about to faint from fear and lack of oxygen. Many of the children were crying silently – or perhaps it was just the sound of the fire consuming the room that engulfed their terrified sobs.

Horrified, the teacher saw the sparks coming closer to one of the desks. In his feverish mind, he already saw the desk on fire and the flames spreading to the other deks, and then...

He tried to clear his mind. Why wasn't help coming? Why were they taking so long? The bloody fire extinguisher was just at the other end of the hallway... How long could it take to grab it and save them?

Or... A hideous thought came to his mind. Was it possible that no one had realised what was going on? Was it possible that the other teachers were still teaching calmly in their classrooms, unaware of the fact they were trapped in a burning hell?

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down, as panicking wasn't going to help...then he remembered the smoke and refrained the impulse.

Perhaps they hadn't had time yet to react. After all, the fire had spread so quickly... He tried to see how much time had passed, but the smoke and the sweat covering his eyes blurred his sight to the point he couldn't make out what the watch indicated anymore.

Time elapsed, turning nanoseconds into pieces of eternity. His mind seemed to drift away and confused, ilogical thoughts kept coming to him. He'd heard, more than pnce, that the main cause people died during a fire wasn't out of burns or asphyxia, but stupidity. Not only were their senses confused due to the panic they felt, but also the smoke in their lungs and the lack of oxygen occluded their minds, preventing them from thinking clearly. Many people ended up dying because they had walked in the opposite direction from the nearest exit; or because they lost precious minutes in nonsense, or because...

...they crept on their stomachs straight to the line of fire! He blinked, unwilling to believe what his eyes were seeing. One of the children – a small boy with dark hair and black-rimmed glasses – was creeping his way making a beeline to the flames. The teacher opened his mouth to call out the name his name... and realised that suddenly that bit of information had been erased from his mind. How could he have forgotten the name of one of his students just like that? And who in heaven's sake cared?

The man opened his mouth once more, but a gulp of thick smoke entered in his lungs and he bent in a coughing fist. He jerked so violently that his forehead hit the floor, and to his horror he realised he was finally slipping into unconsciousness...

Trapped.

Wherever Connor turned to, he saw the tight circle of people, standing so close to each other that left not a single gap to escape. And they didn't look that much like people.

Connor had seen those ridged faces before, and that hungry look in their eyes, but where?

When some of them smirked, showing Connor their pointed, ivory-white teeth, he remembered. They appeared in one of Severus' books. The one about dark creatures and beings.

Connor even remembered the caption under the picture: This is what the real face of a vampire looks like...

Vampires. He hadn't even known that there were vampires in the Forbidden Forest. And now he was face to face with at least a dozen of them. A dozen of bloodthirsty vampires that were much faster, much stronger than him. He was only one. Without a wand. Without a weapon. Without anything.

His mind went blank from panic. Only one coherent thought remained.

Oh-oh. I'm so dead.

Snape was running as fast as he could, and in spite of that he was having trouble keeping up with Darla and Spike, who were moving faster than he would have believed possible.

However, a part of him felt they weren't moving fast enough. After all, it was Connor who was out there, on his own, facing Merlin knew what terrible danger. Every second that went by, every step, represented a nightmare for the child. And if Snape had learnt something about himself in the last couple of years, was that he preferred to lose his right arm before letting something bad happen to Connor.

Apparating would have been faster, but that would have meant leaving Spike and Darla behind, and he wasn't sure whether that'd be for the best, especially as they didn't know what they'd face. Besides, he hadn't a clue of where Connor was. He would have liked to perform a Locating Spell, but those took way too long. Time wasn't something to be wasted.

And Darla, apart from the superb tracking skills she shared with Spike, possesed something essential: her link with Connor, which guided her through the darkness in a beeline straight to her child.

They ran out from Hogsmeade and into the countryside; and soon Snape noticed they were approaching Hogwarts. Was is possible Connor was there? If it was so, what was the danger?

But before they reached the castle's gates, Darla made a turn and, instead, they began to run along the school's outer walls. Snape had the wand ready in his hand, whereas Darla and Spike were armed with stakes.

Finally, Darla stopped dead on her tracks, in front of a set of black trees Snape recognized at once. Oh, no.

'He's in there.' Her voice was as detached as her expression, but he could see the terror in her eyes. 'And he's not alone.'

Without no further explanation, she led the way into the woods.

'Look at the little boy. He came to the woods to play and got lost. Now the bad wolf's gonna eat him up...'

The vampire got elbowed in the ribs. 'Shut up, idiot. You're starting to sound like her.'

'Shhh, be quiet, here she comes!'

Connor would have found this exchange strange or remotely funny hadn't it been for the fact he was scared to death. He felt certain he'd never been this afraid before, or at least not since he was a small child in Pylea.

A tight knot had formed in his throat, his insides were squirming, his legs had turned into stone and even breathing was proving to be a hard task.

His mind, though, kept working tiredlessly. A dozen possible plans to escape were formed in his head, and each one of them was discarded as soon as he found the flaws. Soon, he would run out of ideas. Soon, and then it would be nothing left but desperation. Soon, but not yet. Please, God, not yet...

The vampires fell uncharacteristically silent. A few minutes ago, they had been harassing Connor: taunting him, showing their teeth, growling, one of the females had even traced his neck with her tongue, while all the time the boy stood as still as he could, barely breathing. Now, though, they all had serious expressions on their faces, and they were keeping a small distance from him – too small to try anything, though.

Two of the vampires separated, leaving a narrow gap, through which another vampire walked into the circle. However, this wasn't like any of the other vampires.

They were all rough and hulking, with their worn out faces and their dirty, shabby robes, and a general look of stupidity present in their vacuous eyes.

This one was different. Dressed in a velvet red dress, the woman (no, not a woman, a demon, like all the others) moved with a grace that made her look like she were floating above the ground instead of stepping on it. Her hair was silky and dark as a starless night, while her pale features couldn't have been more delicate if an artist had sculpted them. And her eyes... Her blue eyes were profound as the sea, and they shone with a light Connor had never seen in any other person...or demon.

'Baby Brother.' Her voice was soft and somewhat childish, as if it belonged to a little girl. 'I'm so glad to meet you at last. I looked and looked for you, under the sea and beyond the stars, but you weren't there. You were far, far beyond here.'

She took another step closer and one of her deadly cold fingers caressed his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

'Oh, sweet Baby Brother, we will be so happy together. We will play and sing all day, and it'll be so much better than dolls, even Miss Edith.' A pout formed in her ruby lips. 'I miss Ms. Edith. And I miss Daddy, and Grandma, and my sweet William.' A strange smile lightened her face once more. 'But it doesn't matter, because now I have a baby brother!'

Suddenly, Connor realised what the brightness in her eyes meant: It was a gleam of madness.

As her smile became broader until he could see all her pointed teeth, she took one more step forward and grabbed his arm.

'Now you will come with me, Baby Brother, and we will have so much fun!'

She grabbed his other arm and pulled him closer, as her face tranformed. At last, Connor was able to react. All his stiffness had disappeared. This was the moment to act.

He began to jerk violently, to kick, to struggle, to bite, to spit: In one word, to fight like hell. No Weakening Solution could have stopped him: panic, and something more primal, gave him an unnatural strength.

However, she was much stronger than him, being her delicate movements only a facade. Her grip on his arms was so tight that she cut his circulation, and her nails ripped his sleeves and digged into his skin, as she raised him in the air.

'Look at me.'

Connor struggled even more violently, trying with every fiber of his body to get free from her grip...

'Look at me.'

Her voice changed: it grew softer, more tempting, and it lost its childish quality. Completely against his will, Connor was forced to turn to look her in the eye, as though an invisible hand was moving his head.

His eyes locked with hers, and for a brief moment he glimpsed something much more terrible than madness, something deeper. He glimpsed a power so great and ancient that he couldn't grasp it, he felt how everything else faded into nothingness...

And then his mind turned completely blank.

He didn't feel her sharp nail cutting a thin red line on his neck; he didn't feel her lips tracing the red line; he didn't see her cutting her hand and he didn't feel the dead blood staining his lips as she muttered words in a language he'd never heard.

What he did feel, though, was when he fell with a harsh thump to the ground when the vampiress dropped him. Pulled out of his trance, he looked up to see a line of blood on her cheek, which had been produced when a stake had passed next to her and impaled the closest vampire.

Calvary had finally arrived.

He felt like his hands were on fire every time they touched the scorching floor, and the heat seemed to come through his clothes to burn his skin.

The smoke was so dense that it was almost solid and, to him, it resembled a very real and physical force trying to push him back. But he didn't let himself to be pushed back. Whatever happened, he'd keep going. It didn't matter if the plastic of his glasses seemed to be melting on his nose; it didn't matter if he could barely breath; it didn't matter if the heat seemed to hit him on the face with incredible strength. He'd keep going. Because there was only one thing that his dizzy mind knew for certain: He couldn't go back.

Harry didn't know when he had realised that help wasn't on the way and that it was a matter of time before the fire reached them all. He just knew that one moment he was waiting to be rescued, paralyzed by fear, and the next, he knew he had to escape or they all would die.

The window, as they were on a third floor, was out of question. Besides, the glasses were protected with metal bars, so there was no escape through them. Obviously he couldn't walk through the concrete walls, so there was only one way out left: the door.

Of course, that would involve walking through the fire. Something that no one – not even a eight-year-old – would do willingly in normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances.

The world around Harry seemed to have turned into a blazing orange, the temperature had risen to what felt like an impossible level; and his brain had stopped functioning properly a while ago. His teacher could have probably explained to him that this was a result of inhaling so much smoke, but it wouldn't have mattered much.

All Harry knew was that he'd stopped thinking, and instead he just kept moving, towards his only escape, or perhaps towards a certain death. No one could tell, and least of all Harry.

As the rational side of his brain seemed to have gone on vacation, a primal instinct had seized command of his body, and he crept on his stomach, guided by the will to survive. Everything else faded into nothingness.

However, as he came closer to the flames and both the heat and the smoke increased, it became harder and harder to move. His lungs seemed like they were going to explode, his head was dizzier than ever, his clothes had glued to his skin, and he felt blisters already forming on his hands.

Suddenly, his senses came back to him for a moment and the harsh reality of what he was doing hit him.

I can't do this. I can't go through the fire.

It was nuts, he was going to fry. The fire covered it all: there was no gap, no small way out. There were only flames and smoke.

Desperation took over him, and he let his head fell on his arms, in spite of the heat. He couldn't do this. He couldn't get out to seek for help. And no one could. They all were trapped.

If help gets here in time...

But no, help wouldn't get there in time. It was already too late.

A part of his brain told him he should go backwards immediately with the others, before the flames reached him too. But a feeling of defeat and impotence had paralyzed both his muscles and his mind, and he remained motionless, sensing the flames coming closer, yet aware he could do nothing to save himself.

A thought of Sirius came to his mind. Brave, cheerful, strong Sirius. Surely Sirius would have known what to do. But Sirius wasn't here. Sirius would never be by Harry's side ever again.

A strangled cry escaped from Harry's dry throat. If only the fire went away... Just a little bit, just for a little time... If I could go through the door...

But he couldn't. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry so badly. But he couldn't do that either. It seemed like all his tears had dried. He closed his eyes. The sounds seemed to grow quieter, as if they came from far, far away, and everything seemed a little less tangible, a little less real. Without him knowing it, Harry began to slip into unconsciousness.

A faint breeze caressed his eyelids. Harry flinched and panted...and when he breathed, real, pure air filled his lungs.

He took another breath, and another, like a thirsty man drinking water in the dessert. It was the most wonderful sensation he'd ever felt... and the faint breeze, the gentlest touch in the world...

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, so he didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted so badly to think this was real...

Finally, his eyes snapped wide open. And his jaw fell open in shock.

The flames, which had been coming closer and closer, had now stopped spreading. Not only that: if Harry's feverish mind wasn't deceiving him, the flames were moving aside.

Harry blinked, but when he opened his eyes the image hadn't disappeared. The fire, which moments before had been blocking the exit completely, was slowly being pushed to one side, as though some invisible force were dragging it.

Before Harry's astonished eyes, a gap had appeared where once the door, now carbonized, had been. Through the gap, he saw something he'd feared he'd never see again: the hallway, and beyond it, the outside world, where there were other colours apart from orange, and air, and sunshine, and wind.

He didn't hesitate. In spite of his tiredness, the fever, the lack of oxygen and the burns, he jumped to his feet so fast he nearly fell, and jumped forward through the doorframe, right into salvation.

As he stepped out the classroom, the sound of someone shouting reached his ears. It took him a moment to realise it was his own voice, screaming for help.

He heard the sound of footsteps rushing, of people shouting, and blurry visions of persons with bright-coloured jackets running past him passed before his eyes, but everything was getting dizzy and confusing right now. The world started to spin around him, and in few seconds he fell to the ground in a whirl of dazzling colours and reverberating sounds.

Darla and Spike had seen them first. Or perhaps they had sensed them, with those terryfing powers they possesed. Either way, they had realised what was going on before him, and as soon as they did, Darla commanded Snape to stay behind.

For a moment, he was going to refuse heartily, until he saw the look on Darla's face. Many times Snape's innards squirmed at the thought of all the stuff this woman had done. She had killed so many, done such terrible things. She was a vampire, she was a monster.

However, this was the first time he realised this petite, fragile-looking woman could snap his neck in two without a blink of the eye.

'Vampires will be able to hear your breathing or, if the wind changes its direction, they'll smell you. You can't come. Not yet.'

She needen't to say more. Actually, she wouldn't have needed to say nothing at all: Snape wasn't going to contradict her.

So he remained behind, but he had the wand ready and his eyes never stopped watching what was going on, not a single detail escaping from his penetrating gaze.

Darla and Spike moved forward and split. As he watched their graceful, unnatural moves, Snape realised he could have never gone unnoticed. It didn't matter that many people had said that his walking was cat-like, in comparison to the unhuman way that their feet barely touched the ground and the smooth movements they made, Snape was the loudest and clumsiest person in the world. A vampire would have heard him a mile away.

Darla and Spike surrounded from a safe distance the circle of vampires, studying it carefully, counting how many of them there were, checking their possible weaknesses and planning different ways of attacking.

Soon, they noticed that Connor (Darla's heart jumped when she saw him standing on his feet, apparently still in one piece) wasn't alone in the centre of the circle. There was another vampire standing in front of him, its spine bent so its eyes and Connor's were at the same level. None of them could distinguish its features, though: the mass of vampires and Connor blocked its face from sight.

Darla saw one of the vampire's hands – a feminine hand, she noted – reached Connor's face, and Darla suddenly had her nostrils filled with the smell of blood. Her child's blood.

Ok, enough was enough. Throwing caution – and all her strategies – to the winds, she tossed the stake in her hand, which went flying through the air and thrust into the chest of the vampire which was closest to the vampiress. Hell was unleashed.

The fight started, as fierce and bloody as only a fight amongst vampires could be. Spike, she noted, looked elated and ecstactic as his fists made impact with his adversaries' faces and his feet sent them flying, in a way that reminded her of Faith, the Rogue Slayer.

Darla had never been much of a fighter herself. She'd always preferred other people to fight for her. After she'd got her soul, though, this had changed. Not only she'd have to fight that time in Sunnydale to save the world from The First, but after that she'd helped the Slayers-in-training many times, as well as she helping Faith, Spike and Giles whenever they needed it. She still didn't enjoy fighting as much as Spike and Faith did – but she couldn't deny the satisfaction and the thrill that reducing her enemies gave her: the last type of violent thirst that she allowed herself.

But this wasn't about gratuitous violence. This was about something even more primal: protecting her child. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw Snape rushing to Connor's side. The child had a look of confusion on his face, as though he'd just woken up from a bizarre dream, but on the whole he looked just fine. She saw Snape casting a Shield Charm (which of course she didn't know what was called) and caught a glimpse of the wizard setting a vampire on fire with his wand, before she received a steeled punch on her chin.

She swirled, her foot collisioning with the vampire's chest. He fell on his back, with such bad luck that his heart was penetrated by a root, and he disappeared in a explosion of dust. Darla didn't wait to see his sorry end: she had already turned around to face another vampire.

Soon, the three of them had taken care of all the vampires, except for a couple that had run away. Amongst them, Darla glimpsed the dark-haired leader. Something about her – the smell, the shinning dark hair, her mere pressence – had raised her suspicions. Spike, who had felt it too, made an attempt to follow her when she headed in the direction the vampiress had disappeared – but one look at Darla's face made him to hesitate.

'You have to get them out of here unharmed,' she simply said, gesturing towards Connor, who still looked perplexed yet undamaged, and Snape, who'd gotten a nasty bruise on his left arm. Spike opened his mouth to protest – and then closed it. Certain times, you just couldn't argue with Darla, even Spike knew that.

Darla ran through the mass of black trees, tracking down the female vampire's smell, which got more and more familiar with every passing second. How could she have been so stupid? How couldn't she have imagined that she would try something like this...?

She pushed those thoughts away. They wouldn't help her now. Instead, she concentrated in the smell and the sounds surrounding her, discarding those that wouldn't help her in her search.

When she reached a small clearing, she stopped on her tracks. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to one side, and concentrated. Snapping her eyes open, she spun round, stretched out and arm and grabbed the vampiress by the neck, pushing her against the nearest tree. The delicate features and the clear, mad eyes couldn't have been more familiar than if they had been her own.

'Dear Dru,' she hissed. A forced smile curved the brunette's lips.

'Grandmother.'

Darla refrained the impulse to crack her neck right and proper. It wouldn't help her much.

'What are you doing here, my dear girl?' she asked in her most dulcet tones. Drusilla wasn't fooled: her eyes widened in fear and she tried to get free from her grip unsuccesfully. Finally, she gave up and answered:

'I came to play with Baby Brother. You've been bad, Grandmother, very bad. You didn't let me see him.'

Darla tilted her head to one side and eyed her. 'I see. You came to play with him. Then why did I smell blood? His blood?'

Drusilla squirmed at her Grand Sire's venomous glare. She opened her mouth, then closed it. With any other person or demon, she would have gotten away babbling some nonsense. But she couldn't fool Darla like that. She'd never been able to.

In the most sensible way she'd talked in a long time, she said:

'I wanted to see him. And I wanted him to see me. Nobody sees me anymore.' She pouted. 'Everybody's left me alone. Daddy's gone. My Spike walked away. You have let them taint you. Nobody is with me anymore. I gave you life, and you all wasted the gift.'

Darla's mouth went dry when all the connotations sank in.

'So you thought he wouldn't waste your gift? That was what you were trying to do?'

A faint breeze agitated the trees' leaves above their heads. Seconds went by and Drusilla remained silent. Darla tightened her grip on the vampiress' neck.

'Were you?' she urged, no longer veiling the menace underneath dulcet tones.

The brunette's eyes flashed in indignation.

'No! He is white, and we are black. We are black and grey, and blood and death. He is white and colours, sunshine and life. I can't turn him into one of us. It's not allowed.' She shook her head, and shot scared glances to both sides, as if she was waiting for someone else to attack her. Darla ignored this, and increased the pressure. That snapped Drusilla back to reality. 'You can't turn an angel. Angels and birds get wings and sing, above and above, beyond the incandescent sky, and the fish...'

Darla realised that was the last bit of rational information she'd get from Drusilla, who was now babbling nonsense like usual. However, she still had to make herself clear enough.

'Dru, listen to me. Don't you ever come close to him again. And don't dare to tell anybody about where Connor is. Understood?'

Before she could answer, though, a whistle was heard and something passed so close to her head that it ruffled her hair. What the...?

She saw an arrow stuck on the tree, right above Drusilla's head. Darla shot a quick glance over her shoulder, and had enough time to release Drusilla and duck before another arrow was shot in her direction. Drusilla, who had kneeled next to her to avoid the arrow, clapped and exclaimed:

'The little ponies are here to play!'

Darla glared at her, annoyed (how could she have forgotten how irritating the vampire was?), and then she heard it: a sound of hooves was coming closer. She blinked. Hooves? What...?

And then she saw them. First of all, she saw their inferior part. Then she saw their torso and head. Uh-oh...

'How do you dare, treacherous creatures of the dark, to disturb this place's peace?' one of the whatever-they-were roared.

It took Darla a moment to get over that a horse was speaking to her – no, not a horse. A centaur, she corrected herself. And who cared what it was, anyway? There were three of them, all of them with bows ready in their hands.

Darla put her hands in the air, and began to rise to her feet slowly. 'Look, we are going out of here now. We won't do you any harm...'

All she got as a response was an arrow aimed to her chest, which she avoided just in time, and a harsh laugh.

'Vampire, do not try to trick us. Your kind is incapable of not doing harm. But we will put an end to it now: you will not go out of this forest. Your unlife will be finished now.'

Darla took a step backwards, her hands still in the air. 'Look, you shouldn't...'

It was so fast she didn't have enough time to react. An arrow flew across the air and stuck into her left arm. She looked at the growing stain of blood on her blouse, shocked, before the pain flooded her arm and spread to the rest of her body. Okay, enough is enough.

Without so much as a warning, she jumped and grabbed with both hands a branch, then she launched herself forward and hit with both feet one of the centarus' faces. She could hear bone cracking under her feet as both of them fell to the ground. Darla rolled over and threw a stone to the second centaur, not before he managed to shoot an arrow at her, which didn't hit her by inches. The third one aimed at her, but Drusilla morphed and punched his face.

Darla didn't stay to see the out come of the fight: she fled through the woods, before the centaurs roaring voices could ask for help. She had had enough for one evening.

Sirius' old car had never ran so fast. By the time he reached the hospital, he was pretty certain that the engine had probably melted down, and he couldn't have cared less.

He jumped out the car and ran to the hospital, rushing inside. In the hall there was the usual confusion present in every hospital: doctors, nurses, patients, relatives, all of them hurrying to one place or another. Sirius didn't have time to try to find the receptionist. Instead, he grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm and made her face him.

The woman flinched, and then her expression relaxed into a mask of cold competence. She was probably used to hysterical patients and relatives, and she surveyed him with indifference.

'How can I help you, sir?'

Sirius's words came out in a rush, and it was a miracle he could make himself clear.

'Loking for my godson. Eight years old, tiny, jet-black hair, glasses. Name's Harry Potter. He was one of the students of the school that burnt down...'

A look of dawning comprehension appeared on the nurse's face.

'Oh, the kids from the school...Poor devils.' At Sirius' panicked expression, she hastened to add: 'Don't worry, sir. None of the kids has serious injuries. The teacher is still unconscious, but he'll recover.'

Sirius couldn't have cared less about the teacher. 'Where are they?'

The nurse led him to a large, shinningly white room, with a long line of white beds. There was a child in each bed, some of them sleeping, some others talking in hushed whispers with their parents. Most of them had large parts of their faces covered by bandages and gauze, but none of them looked seriously hurt.

He strided through the room, his gaze examining each one of the beds' little occupants, searching for the familiar features of his godson. Finally, he saw him lying on the bed closest to the window. Sirius' heart skipped a beat as he launched forward.

Harry, who had been looking through the window dully, looked at the right side of his bed and his face lightened when he saw his godfather.

'Sirius! So did Mrs. Dartwood call you?'

Sirius nodded. Harry's headmistress had called him at work, and it hadn't taken Sirius a minute to jump from his seat, mumble an excuse to his boss and flee through the door.

The man examined his godson carefully. He had bandages on his hands and a bit of gauze covered his forehead, but on the whole he seemed to be all right. A sigh of relief emptied his lungs. Thank God...

He sat on the bed, and gently pulled Harry into an embrace. God, he had been so scared, so terrified of losing him... He hid his face in the child's messy hair so he wouldn't see his eyes watering out from relief. Harry was laughing, also out of relief, and trying to explain what had happened to Sirius' shoulder. He didn't get a word of what he was saying, but it didn't matter: Harry was fine, and he was with him, and everything else was unimportant and it could wait. In that moment, the pressure of Harry's tiny body against his chest and his high-pitched voice reaching his ears were the most important thing in the world.

Later, after a nurse had given Harry his lunch, the boy looked thoughtfully at his godfather.

'Sirius', he finally said, 'if Stuart's mum lets him throw a party... will you let me go?'

The man sighed. There was only one answer possible, and Sirius said it. Letting out a delighted shriek that nearly destroyed Sirius' tympanum, Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius.

As he ruffled his godson's hair tenderly, Sirius realised that sometimes there was no such a thing as a safe place. That, sometimes, all the safety measures taken weren't enough.

And that he would have to learn to live with that.

After Connor had been calmed down and been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion; after Darla's and Spike's wounds, as well as his own, had been taken care of; after they had discussed all the implications of the mad vampiress' visit, and after he had sent an owl to Dumbledore explaining what had happened, there was only one thing to take care of. But, as he walked towards his study, after Darla and Spike had disappeared through the flames, he knew that it was something he would have to do on his own.

'You are aware that none of this would have happened if the damned boy had stayed quiet as I had told him, don't you? But of course, what can be expected from a child whose mother...?'

'Shut up.'

Mr. Snape looked up, one of his eyebrows raising.

'What did you say, son? I didn't hear you.'

Snape ignored the hint of sarcasm and kept his voice calm and cold.

'I told you to shut up.'

His father's eyes flashed with anger as he rose – not without certain difficulty – from the armchair.

'How dare you, stupid boy, to tell me what to do? I am your father, you ungrateful...'

Snape remained calm. 'I dare to because I am no longer a boy, depite what you believe. I'll make myself clear: I don't care why you did leave Connor alone today. I don't care what sort of business you've came to take care of in Britain, and I don't care which one of your old associates you were meeting this evening in the Forbidden Forest. You put Connor in danger. Now get out of my house.'

His father's mouth fell open, letting him see the few missing teeth, in a way that was almost comical. Almost.

'So you're kicking me out,' his father hissed, in his most dangerous tone. 'You are kicking out your own father, who also happens to be the last member of your family...'

It became harder for Snape to remain composed, but he managed to control himself by clenching his hands into fists inside his pockets.

'Funny you claim to be my father now, when some years ago you disowned me. As for being the last member of my family...Well, that isn't true anymore, is it?'

The old man fumed and his eyes narrowed.

'Oh, yes, it's true. You have another family now.' A harsh laugh escaped from his dry lips. 'Do you think I'm that naïve? That I wouldn't realise that all you had told me about the brat was a lie? Did you believe me to be that stupid?'

Snape's heart seemed to have stopped beating in his chest, as cold sweat covered his hands. If his father had found out the truth about Connor, then...

'Did you honestly think that I wouldn't see what the Muggle whore was doing here? Well, at least you had the decency not to give the bastard our name and cover the family tree in shame. No wonder you hid it from me: a Mudblood bastard brat, nevertheless! Could you have fallen any lower?'

Snape blinked. What the hell was his father talking about? Then all the pieces fell into place: his father believed that he and Darla were lovers, and that Connor was their child.

The idea was so ridiculous that he almost burst into hysterical laughter, but he refrained himself in time. It was better to let his father believe any nonsense his twisted imagination could come up with, rather to let him know the truth.

'It's none of your business. Now, get out of this house, and out of our lives.'

Holding his head high, his father strided to the door and stopped before turning the knob and threw him one last glare.

'You will regret this, Severus. Mark my words.'

As his father's footsteps echoed away, Snape's gaze fell on a framed photograph on his desk. In it, a beaming Connor was holding a brand-new broomstick, his eyes shinning with glee.

'No, father. I don't think I will.'

Jesse: Thanks for your good wishes and, in case you didn't notice with this chapter, I hate Mr. Snape too. With a bit of luck, we won't see him in a long time...hopefully. I don't know, and I'm supposed to be the author. Like always, I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter, and now tell me if you've liked this new Spike cameo.

Luna Moonlight Fawn: Thanks for the good wishes, last chapter's review and the reviews you sent to Percy Weasley's the Series: in sum, for lighting up my day. As you can see, that series is a little abandoned by now, as I'm focusing in 2SP, but I hope that soon I'll be able to update it. And about Sirius' heir or heiresss...nope, I haven't thought about it, and it probably won't happen in this fic.Have a nice summer.