His robes brushed the house boundaries of the ruined property and the air around him crackled with historical magic. This place was where everything had changed. He could remember it as though it was yesterday, entering and killing the first one. It was easy, waving his way through the door, killing the blood traitor. They should have been more prepared. They should have expected more of him. He had glided up the stairs and followed the scent of fear. He remembered the girl, the foolish mudblood, who had thought she could stand in his way. She was weak to love another. She could have saved herself, but she chose not to. She chose to die for him. 'Please, no! Not Harry, please!' He was glad when he had killed her. He found her pleas pathetic. The last one should have been the easiest, defenseless as he was. And yet here he was. He remembered the pain, he could feel it still. He had cast with so much confidence, as he had done so many times before. Only this time the green light enveloped him, bright and all encompassing, and he felt, truly, for the first time, what his words had done.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Harry gasped sitting straight up in bed as he was jolted abruptly out of his nightmare. As he sucked air into his lungs, he reminded himself that this was only a nightmare; a nightmare of the vision he had seen that night he and Hermione had escaped Godric's Hollow. A vision which had transported him into Voldemort's mind as the dark wizard relived the moments when he had slaughtered Harry's parents.

Harry laid back onto his pillow, damp as it was with sweat and tears, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he fought to calm himself. The room was glowing in light and Ron's bed was empty so it must already be morning. Soon he would compose himself and join them all downstairs, but for now he sobbed. Tears streamed down his face as he grieved over the parents he'd never known and the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Mate, you're missing out on pancakes." Ron burst into the room as Harry hastily wiped his face with the sleeve of his pyjama top.

"Mum said I had to – hey, are you alright?" Ron's voice turned concerned as he took in Harry's obviously tear-stained face.

"Yeah," Harry tried to mask the tightness of his voice. "Just tired."

"Alright, well… come down soon, yeah? Food doesn't last that long round here when all the brothers are back."

"Yeah, sure, I'll be down in a bit."

Ron gave him a last long look as if he was deciding whether he should challenge his mate on the state he was in. In the end, however, he settled for a comforting smile and a nod before he left Harry alone again.

Harry dragged himself out of bed and went through the motions of getting ready without much conscious thought. In the bathroom he scrubbed at his face in an attempt to cover his emotional state. It worked somewhat for the tear tracks but did little to remove the tired and slightly haunted look from his eyes.

In the kitchen, the Weasleys said nothing about his appearance, though the somewhat startled expression on Molly's face when Harry had walked in told him that his face gave him away.

"Here you are, Harry, dear." The motherly witch said with the smallest hint of pity as she placed a high stack of American-style pancakes in front of him.

Ginny, who sat next to him, patted his knee reassuringly, sending him instant comfort just by her studying presence.

He kept his eyes on his breakfast as the Weasley family bustled around him, eating methodically though he could barely stomach it. Vaguely he registered their conversation on their preparations for Christmas and the various jobs they were being assigned to complete before the Christmas Eve drinks they were to host.

Harry finished up and the Weasley offspring began heading towards their respective chores for the day. Having not heard his own name mentioned, Harry his own name mentioned, Harry assumed his job would be to do whatever Ron was doing and he made to follow him into te living room to begin dusting.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs Weasley stopped him. "Don't worry yourself about that. You go get some rest if you need it."

Harry flattened down his hair self-consciously, knowing the last thing he wanted was to go back to sleep. "That's ok, Mrs Weasley, I'm happy to help."

"If you're sure, dear." She didn't look convinced. "And you really must call me, Molly."

Harry smiled sheepishly at her, nodding, and quickly followed Ron into the living room. Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to call Mrs Weasley by her first name. It wasn't that they weren't familiar enough. On the contrary, Molly Weasley was the closest thing to a mother figure he'd ever had. But after all she had done for him, every happy and safe experience she had ensured he'd had, it just didn't seem respectful enough to call her by her first name.

The day passed in a blur of chores and preparations. They were kept busy and, as much as Ron complained, Harry loved it. Christmas at the Burrow was everything he'd never been allowed to experience as a child. There were decorations and presents and festive food. The whole house was filled with noise; laughter and bickering and Christmas music that blasted out of Molly's record player while she made mince pies in the kitchen. It was a stark contrast from Christmases at the Dursleys. Those had been the worst days as a child, without even his muggle school to escape to. Christmas day itself had been spent mostly locked in his cupboard so as not to tarnish his relatives' day. He'd been allowed out solely to assist Petunia in the cooking of a mountainous Christmas dinner; a meal he would not be allowed to partake in.

At the Burrow, Harry reveled in being allowed to participate in family life, even if that meant taking a share in the work. After lunch, he and Ron were sent outside to spell the dozens of lanterns which ran up the garden path from the gate at the boundary of the property. While they were out there, setting each lamp with a time-delay lumos so they wouldn't turn on until it was dark, Charlie came out to join them, bundled up against the wind chill just as they were.

"Alright?" He greeted. "How's it going?"

"Alright." Ron answered for them both. "I reckon we've done more than half."

"I'll give you a hand." Charlie offered, taking out his own wand. "It's too cold to be standing around out here for long."

Ron eyed him suspiciously, but Harry seemed too preoccupied to notice. Charlie, ignoring Ron's look, went to work alongside Harry.

"Ron said you're heading back to Grimmauld Place after Christmas?"

"Lumos tenebris." Harry cast once more. "Yeah, the day after boxing day."

"You know you're welcome to stay here, right? Even when Ron's gone. You're family to us; you can stay whenever you like."

"Thanks, Charlie." Harry answered feeling emotional. "But really, it's ok. I want to go back and clear up some more of the rooms."

"Maybe Bill and I could come and give you a hand on one day." Charlie said persistently.

"Sure, maybe. I'll let you know if I need any help."

Charlie opened his mouth to say something else, but Ron got in first. "Charlie, mum said something about there being more lanterns in the shed. Come have a look with me, will you?"

"Sure," Charlie agreed reluctantly. "Back in a min." Harry nodded absentmindedly, already back in his own thoughts.

On the other side of the house Ron looked at Charlie crossly. "I know what you're doing. Just leave it."

"Ron, come on, he needs to talk to someone. Have you seen him today?"

"Of course I've seen what he looks like." Ron argued defensively. "He's my best mate."

"We're just worried about him, Ron. All of you actually."

"I'm not saying he doesn't need to talk to someone. He knows that too. But Harry'll talk to someone in his own time. If you push him when he isn't ready, he'll just shut down."

"What happened this morning?"

Ron shrugged. "Nightmares, I'm guessing. "When I went in he was awake and he'd been crying."

"Is that usual?"

"He's always had nightmares, on and off. It's not often that they affect him that bad though."

"Did you ask him about it?"

Ron shook his head. "I knew he wasn't ready."

"Ron…" Charlie sighed.

"You don't know Harry like I do." Ron argued with frustration. "He's not going to talk to you or Bill or Dad because he doesn't trust you enough."

"Does he talk to you and Hermione?"

"Mostly. Not everything."

"I just don't think this is something you three can handle by yourselves."

"I know that. I told him he should talk to Snape."

Charlie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You did? Did he talk to him?"

Ron shrugged, "I think so."

"Well that's good. And you?"

"Me?"

"Are you talking to Professor Snape?"

"What would I say to him?"

"Whatever you need to. You could talk about the things that happened last year and… your grief."

Ron rubbed his face. "I'm just trying to get through this year. I think – I think if I talked about it now, I couldn't – "

Charlie pulled his little brother into a hug as Ron trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. "You're holding it together for everyone else; for mum, for Hermione, for George." Holding his brother at arms' length, his hands applying a reassuring pressure to Ron's shoulders, he said firmly. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

"When they needed me, I left them. I can't let them down again."

Minerva, true to her word, had ensured that Severus attended the Weasley family Christmas Eve drinks. And so, despite much resistance, the sour professor, ex-Death Eater, former spy, found himself trudging towards the lantern-lit Burrow. He could hear the festivities of the house's occupants from outside the door and was skeptical (and hopeful) that anyone would open the door given the raucous noise from within. Nonetheless, once he had knocked, the door was opened by the oldest of the Weasley offspring, who greeted him warmly.

"Hello, Professor, come on in."

"I should think 'Severus' will suffice now. You have not been my student for some years."

Bill chuckled. "You're making me feel old."

"Not nearly as old as it makes me feel." Severus groused.

"Can I get you a drink, Severus?"

"Dear God, yes."

Bill laughed again, leading the former spy over to what had become the drinks table. "We've got mulled wine, elf gin, firewhiskey…"

"Ogden's" Severus said quickly. "Please."

Bill poured him a hearty measure of the fiery liquid and picked up his own half-finished glass before leading Severus to a sofa on the far side of the room where he assumed the professor would feel more comfortable.

"So, how's life treating you, Sir?"

"Better than I could have asked for, I suppose."

"You never expected to make it to the other side of the war, I imagine."

Severus sipped his drink, savoring the burn. "No. I imagined two possible endings, death or incarceration."

Bill nodded.

"And you, Mr Weasley? I trust the goblins are treating you well?" Severus said with only a little sarcasm.

Bill laughed. "Well, there's never a dull day, at least. They always keep me busy."

"And your new wife?" Severus watched as Bill's expression softened.

"She's amazing."

"Dear Merlin," Severus groaned. "Remind me to resign when the next round of Weasleys start roaming the halls of Hogwarts."

"Ha! Not yet, Severus, you're alright."

Soon Bill was dragged away by the aforementioned wife and Severus was left to observe the party alone. Most of the Order was there, he could see; plus a good number of Ministry officials, topped off with the many members of Weasley extended family.

Kingsley joined him for awhile and they discussed politics and the upcoming trials. The Minister assured him that he was still looking into Harry's legal routes for justice against the Dursleys but that getting answers without raising anyone's curiosity or suspicion was slow going.

A few other Order members stopped by and then Charlie Weasley settled in the vacated seat beside Severus and Bill returned with a refill for Severus' glass.

"McGonagall kicked you out of the castle then, Severus?" The dragon-tamer teased.

Severus only grumbled back, sipping his firewhiskey once more. Across the room he caught sight of that familiar mop of black hair pausing by the fireplace as he chatted to the youngest Weasleys. Severus observed them for a moment wondering why Ronald and Ginevra looked so concerned until Potter turned around and Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy's appearance.

"What in Merlin's name have you done to Potter?" He growled at the two eldest Weasleys.

"Nothing –" Bill tried to explain but was interrupted.

"He's only been here three bloody days. Look at the state of him!" Harry's eyes were dark and hollow, his face drawn. He looked shattered.

"I know." Charlie said firmly. "He hasn't been like that the whole time, just today."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, as far as we know. Ron told me that Harry gets nightmares. When he went to wake Harry this morning he was particularly upset."

"Have you spoken to Harry about it?"

Charlie shook his head. "I tried, but Ron told me to back off; said that Harry will talk about it when he's ready."

"They're very protective of each other." Bill commented.

"Definitely." Charlie agreed, adding quietly, "Today is the most Ron's opened up with me since the war ended. He's just trying to hold it together for everyone else."

"It's good he's started talking." Bill said. "Has he spoken to you yet, Severus?"

"He is beginning to be less openly hostile, which I took to be progress. Potter told me I should try playing chess with him and it worked like a charm."

Bill grinned, "Did he beat you?"

"Not quite, but it was a closer match than I would wish to admit." Severus drawled.

Soon the Weasleys were summoned by their mother to support with hosting duties and Severus was left alone with his firewhiskey once more.

"Sir," Severus was interrupted from his musings by Potter offering him a tray of mince pies.

"No, thank you."

"It's alright, Sir, I didn't make them."

Snape smirked. "Even so."

Placing his tray on a nearby side table, Harry sat himself down next to his formerly most hated professor. Severus waited for the boy to say something but was met with a silence that was only broken when Severus said bluntly, "Potter, you look awful."

Harry spluttered in a mixture of humour and shock. "Right, thanks."

"I'm not joking, Harry." Severus said seriously. "You don't look well."

"I'm alright, just didn't sleep great."

"Nightmares."

Harry nodded, eyes downcast.

"Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

"Trust me, Sir, you really don't want to know."

Something in Harry's voice, the edge of bitterness and slight despair, told Severus that the boy wasn't exaggerating. He seemed to truly believe that the content of his nightmare would upset Severus. Perhaps that it would upset Severus as much as it had Harry.

"It is believed that talking about one's nightmares can alleviate the severity of their impact."

"I just can't." Harry whispered, voice full of pain.

"I understand." Severus sighed. "Try and get some rest."

"I have been trying." Harry defended. "I don't choose to have the nightmares."

"Of course. I'll send you some Dreamless Sleep."

"Thanks, Sir."

"When are you heading to Grimmauld Place?"

"Tuesday, I think. You are going to come over on New Year's Eve, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm going to bloody have to now, aren't I?"

"Why's that?"

"How else will I check that you are still sleeping and eating properly?" He grumbled teasingly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know how to look after myself. I've only been doing it my whole life."

Severus' lips pursed as he acknowledged the truth of Harry's statement.

"I suppose I better hand out some more mince pies." Harry said, picking up his tray. "Have a good Christmas, Professor."

"You too, Potter."

The 28th of December and, after a plethora of enforced festive activities, Minerva had finally allowed Severus to hide away in his dungeon. As far as he was concerned, Christmas was well and truly over and there was no better time to begin marking the 5th Year test papers which he had set before the holidays.

God they were idiots, he groused, crossing out large passages of text with his red-inked quill. At least their actual spell-casting wasn't as bad as their theory. No doubt another thing for which they had to thank Potter and his little club.

An iridescent light seeped under the door, rousing Severus from his marking. The light puddled, shimmered, and then began to take shape, molding into the opalescent form of a weasel.

"Severus," Arthur's voice spoke urgently from the weasel's mouth. "There's been another Death Eater attack. The Order are gathering at the Burrow. Come as quick as you can."

In no time at all, Severus was ready to leave and was finding his quickest way out of the castle. Years of spying meant he was well practiced in leaving the grounds with expediency. In less than 10 minutes he was apparating to the boundary of the Weasley's property.

The door was opened before he could knock and Molly bustled Severus in. She looked frazzled, hair frizzy and eyes alert.

"Oh, Severus, thank Godric." He was ushered into the living room and though he had been here only a few nights previously the difference in the occasions was stark. Where the room had been loud and jovial on Christmas Eve, the atmosphere was now tense and strained. There weren't too many there yet; Severus must have been one of Arthur's first contacts. The few voices he could hear were all hushed and urgent. Arthur sat at the table with Bill and Wallace Westinburgh, an Auror who was by no means a fan of Severus. At the end of the table were the young Weasleys: Charlie, George, Ron and Ginny, and, to Severus' surprise, Miss Granger, though he had thought she was abroad for the duration of the Christmas holidays.

"Severus." Arthur finally seemed to notice him.

"What has happened?"

"They've murdered a muggle family."

Severus grimaced as the present members filled him in on the details. It was unpleasant but not surprising. At least he understood now why the younger Order members were looking so vulnerable.

"We need to go and tell Harry." Ginevra inserted with urgency. "If he hears about this from the papers or someone else…"

She didn't need to say anything else. They all knew how Potter would react if he heard about a potential threat to his friends.

"I know," Arthur agreed. "But we can't send just anyone."

"'Mione and me can go. The wards are set to let us in."

"Absolutely not!" Molly cried. "You are in far too much danger already."

"But –"

"Your mother's right, Ron. You can't go."

"But no one else can even get in." Ron argued.

"You could go, Professor." Severus looked sharply at the Granger girl. She was pale and shaken but her chin was lifted with the fight still within her.

"We need someone keyed into the wards." Severus explained.

"You are." She insisted. "Harry trusts you. The wards will let you in."

Severus could hardly believe it to be true, but Granger seemed so confident, so sure in Harry's faith of him.

"Very well." He agreed. "I will go."