Chapter Seven

Two weeks.

It was not long in the grand scheme of life, no.

But, truly, the Hogwarts term breaks always seemed to drag on and on. Certainly, Easter was not as bad as the Summer or, indeed, the Winter break when he longed to spend the time with his family. But the sudden and unexpected announcement that Potter would be returning home for the holidays with only three weeks notice left Severus entirely unprepared for the fortnight of being stuck within the four walls of the castle.

He did, at least, have the brief visit to the Foundation and Regulus during those two weeks to look forward to. Even if he was entirely against the idea of it all.

On either side of that, he would spend the time in his quarters, marking and brewing and brooding on the impending return of the Dark Lord; he doubted he would continue to be able to ignore the faint, but ever darkening, outline of the Dark Mark that had been returning for the past few months.

The time was close. Very close.

"Daddy?"

A little hand waved in front of his face.

Severus quickly snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at Grace where she was curled up next to him in her bed.

"You did it, again."

"Ah. My apologies."

"Sorry?"

"Yes."

Grace pointed at the place in the book where he had been reading from, before he had encouraged her to take over and his mind had wandered, and he carried on reading the bedtime story she had chosen, as was their ritual when he managed to make it home.

He had made sure, that night, that he did.

He couldn't stay, no, not the whole night, as he sometimes – often, recently – did. It was too much of a risk, if Potter should decide to leave for home early in the morning, rather than in the afternoon as had been arranged.

Grace was asleep before the story was completed, and Severus slipped from her room, quietly, taking an extra glance back at where she slept to commit it to memory for the next few weeks, before joining Lily in the living room downstairs.

"All set?" she stood from the couch, making her way over to him as he returned the book to the mantle.

"Hm. As much as will ever be. You know how to contact me, should you need to."

"I do, yes," Lily smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss.

"You'll have your hands full, no doubt."

Lily waved a hand; "Nothing I can't handle. It's you I'm worried about. Patrols all holidays?"

"There will be coursework, too. That will certainly light the dark nights."

Lily laughed, quietly, so as not to disturb Grace; "You're still going to see Regulus?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It'll throw people off, seeing us together. On both sides. I can use that. The Dark Mark continues to darken, all is happening in the same way that it did before. We need to start lining up, getting our stories straight."

"What are you planning?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet. I just know it's better to have a foot in both doors, lest the Dark Lord believe I have nothing to offer when he returns. I am, also, quite certain that I will not be the only of his followers in attendance at this event. If anything, it will look suspicious not to go."

"That could easily be put down to Regulus believing you are entirely devoted to him. Voldemort knows he knew you better than anyone, back then."

"If I couldn't convince Regulus otherwise, in the Dark Lord's eyes what chance would I have of doing so with Dumbledore?"

Lily rolled her eyes, giving a shrug; "It makes my head spin. All the scenarios."

"It keeps me busy." Severus leaned down, pressed his lips to hers; "Stay safe. You won't be there?"

"No. I'll be at St Mungo's that day."

"Good."

"I'll try and make it."

"I'd expect nothing less."

Lily grinned.

"I shall see you in a few weeks."

"Or days."

"Hm."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

It was perfectly domestic and right.

Severus would spend the next two weeks missing it.

By the time the Easter holidays came around, Harry was entirely certain of Remus' secrecy regarding the identity of Grace's father.

He wasn't an idiot.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what it meant; Harry must know him, too. Either personally, which severely limited the number of men it could be, or because the man was in some way well-known. Famous!

Harry couldn't help but be a little excited by the thought.

It wasn't all that farfetched an idea. His mum worked at the Foundation, and there had been plenty a number of world renowned wizards who had come and gone through the place.

And just as logic quickly brought Harry to that conclusion, logic also told him that there was no way he was going to get anywhere with his questions to his Uncle Remus; no matter how many hints and outright enquiries he had fired his way since the initial conversation at the beginning of term.

His Uncle Remus was driven by loyalty; not to him, but to his mum.

And so, Harry would have to go to the source.

It wasn't only the promise of attending the Spring Fling at the Foundation that had him owling his mum that he would be coming home for the holidays.

"Sweetheart!"

His mum had him wrapped in a tight embrace the moment he and Remus stepped through the door on his arrival home; "This was such a wonderful surprise."

"Hi," Harry's voice was muffled as he shared an embarrassed grin with Remus.

"Are you hungry? I've got dinner cooking."

"A bit. Where's Grace?"

"Upstairs."

Lily motioned at Remus with a wave, urging him inside, before sweeping past to close the door behind him; "She woke up at dawn after getting herself all excited knowing you were coming home and ended up crashed out before noon."

Harry chuckled, dumping his backpack down on the kitchen table, rummaging inside.

"Are you staying for dinner, Remus?" his mum went on, heading past to the stove.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Mum, can I go to the Fling at the Foundation next week?" Harry asked, absentmindedly, "I was going to ask Ron if he wanted to go."

"Oh. Um…no, I don't think so, Sweetheart."

Harry looked up from his bag with a frown; "What? Why?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't get it, why wouldn't it be okay? You'll be there, won't you be working?"

"Not on Friday, I have to be at St Mungo's that day. I was hoping you'd watch Grace."

"Grace? Why can't Uncle Remus watch her?"

"Because Uncle Remus is busy."

Harry looked at Remus pleadingly but he only shrugged, apologetically.

Harry sighed, zipping up his bag and letting it fall to the floor, only mildly disappointed by the response. He'd lost most of his excitement about the event when Malachi had announced he wouldn't be able to go either, only deciding to go ahead and ask Ron at Malachi's insistence.

Ron was fine.

They had been close in their first year, and even most of the second, but he had been strange with him for befriending a Slytherin, not willing to see past the Houses, especially after Ginny was taken, despite them all happily playing together before they'd ever gone to Hogwarts.

Really, Harry was just as disappointed by Malachi being sorted into Slytherin as any of them, but he was still Malachi and he wasn't going to turn around and ditch him just because some crazy old rule said that Gryffindors and Slytherins couldn't suck it up and get on with it.

"Can Malachi come over, then?"

"Yes, that'd be fine."

"Harry!"

He was suddenly pounced on by little arms and legs from behind and he laughed, just as delighted as his little sister by the reunion and he reached down, grasping her under the arms and spun them both round.

"Be careful, you two," came their mum's warning, even as she smiled, and Harry carried on, ignoring the caution in favour of Grace's squeals.

The kitchen quickly came alive with the sounds of chatter and laughter, crockery and scraping chairs on the tiled floor, as they started getting set up for dinner.

Harry quickly found the weight of the questions – the wonderings about Grace's father, creepy nightmares and Death Eaters – all of it chased away by the busy, boisterous, cling, clang, clattering sounds of home.

"This next week is all about you, Beansprout!"

His dad was as delighted as ever to have him home, that much was obvious, and Malachi couldn't help the smile he gave as his dad moved around the room, chatting away in the same way he always did whenever he came back, even if the heaviness in his chest still wouldn't be shifted.

"I've managed to move some things around at the Foundation," his dad went on, putting a hand on his shoulder; "Oh! And tickets to the Quidditch friendly down in Yorkshire next week."

"Great," Malachi managed, mustering up some false cheerfulness but it fell short, his dad quickly picking up on his lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh. Unless you already had plans?"

Malachi fought not to scoff.

"Nothing. Well. Harry and me were gonna go to the Foundation one day."

He didn't say why, the reason being to make use of the information available in the Research Centre. Even the restricted section at Hogwarts was failing to provide any further information about Voldemort – or his dad – but both he and Harry knew that if there was any information documented, the Foundation would have it in the archives.

His dad wouldn't ask him the reason for going to the Foundation, though. It was the only place Malachi was ever allowed to go.

Except;

"Not for the Fling though. Don't worry."

His dad's excitement dimmed slightly at the mention; "Ah. Yes. Look, I'm sorry about that. But you know how it is, it's just too –"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Yeah?"

Malachi shrugged.

He didn't care about the stupid Fling anymore now, anyway.

His dad gave a nod at the couch; "So, you going to tell me what's been going on at school the past three months?"

"Maybe later."

Malachi hauled up his bag from where it lay at his feet; "I'm just gonna go unpack."

"Oh. Sure, no problem. I'll just get started on dinner, then."

Malachi avoided his eyes as he walked on by to the hallway, knowing his dad was watching his every move because it was obvious something was wrong, and he felt rotten both because of what he now knew and because of his dad's disappointment in his lack of excitement to be home.

He was glad to be home. It beat Hogwarts, any day.

But his immediate desire to get back and confront his dad about the truth had evaporated as the days to his visit had dwindled down. He was uncertain how to broach the subject. It felt wrong to even ask.

Were you a Death Eater?

What if it wasn't true and his dad was upset that Malachi had believed it possible?

Or, worse, what if it was true and his dad admitted it; how was he supposed to react to that?

Malachi had no idea.

He still couldn't figure out what his feelings were, even in the hypothetical sense. But he could very quickly identify the feeling he had whenever he and Harry had spoken about it in the days since the Prophet had been left in his schoolbag.

Shame.

And it crushed him to think he could ever be ashamed of his dad.

Malachi had always been so proud to be his son.

He stepped into his room and leaned his back against the door, pushing it shut as he did and slid to the floor, finally alone for the first time since he'd found out and did nothing to fight the tears that, for weeks now, had been begging to fall.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns!"

"Hey Julia," Harry grinned, before he was quickly pulled into a tight, swaying hug.

"Aw, look at you, little man!" Julia drew back, having to tilt her chin up to make eye contact; "This is a sin, it has to be. What are you now, fourteen?"

"Almost."

"Pah, rubbish. You'll always be that chubby little two-year-old to me."

His mum, appearing from nowhere, laughed beside him, clutching the most hideous scarf he had ever seen. He eyed it sceptically, shooting his mum a look to convey his disapproval of the wardrobe choice, but before either could quip it, he was called back into the living room by Grace.

"Stay for dinner?" he heard his mum say, as he shot Julia a smile of goodbye and headed out from the kitchen.

"Nah, I've got the graveyard shift tonight. Cute scarf –"

"It's really cold in Scotland, Uncle Remus," Grace was saying as Harry stepped into the living room; "You'll have to wear a hat."

"So it is, Grace. I'll take your advice and thank you for it," Remus ruffled her hair, affectionately, as Harry sat back down at the table.

"Why are you going back to Scotland?" Harry asked, reaching for the potatoes and loading up his plate.

"Sun, sand and sea."

Harry gave an amused chuckle, shooting Remus a look, but didn't press further, even if he did think it was weird that Remus seemed to head up there at least once a month, every month, since before he could remember.

He wondered if there was a girlfriend up there.

His mum came back into the room, then, joining them at the table and the conversation carried on; general chit chat that was typical when the four of them ate together and it took a good fifteen minutes or so for Grace to finally mention the mysterious 'Daddy' of hers but, when she did, Harry was ready for it.

"…he said it's the best school, the Learning Centre. Did you like it, Harry?"

"Yeah, it was great," Harry nodded. And, usually, that would be all he'd say. Humour her, is what his Uncle Remus had always told him to do, and so he did.

This time, however, he took it further. Too far, as was the point; "Did he say he'd take you for your first day?"

His mum looked up sharply at that.

"I'll ask him!"

"Great. Maybe I'll get to meet him."

"How come you don't know Daddy?"

"He's never here, see."

"He was here last night."

"He was? What was he doing?"

"Reading me a story."

"Which story?"

"That one."

Grace pointed at the book lying on the mantle, not missing a beat.

She was good, his little sister, so quick and able to answer any question he threw her way. She'd have a bright career in show business.

Harry started to say more, the discomfort rolling off both his mum and Uncle Remus palpable, but before he could open his mouth once again his mum spoke up.

"Harry."

He met her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Harry shrugged, as innocently as he could muster and failing miserably. He really was no good at this sort of thing. It had been Malachi's idea; he was far better at tricking people. Harry was pretty sure this whole exchange had gone down with all the subtlety of a lead balloon but, from the look on his mum's face, it had at least got the point across.

"Grace was just telling me about her dad. Why? What's the secret?"

Lily put down her knife and fork, looking agitated as she shared a look with Remus; "Grace, honey."

His sister, who had easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room, was looking back and forth between them.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get those pictures you painted for Harry?"

Grace brightened, instantly; "Okay!"

She was off her seat and hurrying from the room in a flash, but none spoke until her footsteps on the stairs could no longer be heard; his mum, because she wouldn't have wanted Grace to overhear the conversation that she expected to happen next and Harry because, well, because he was nervous. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he tried to make sense of what it was that he was expecting and how to approach the whole thing, months of private deliberation in his dorm room failing him.

His mum spoke first.

"Don't tease her like that."

"I wasn't teasing her."

"Yes, you were. You know…"

His mum's words dwindled off and the accusation in her tone drove away his nerves completely and, instead, he found himself bristling.

"I don't know anything, actually."

His mum sighed, sharing another look with Remus.

"Well, I know you and Uncle Remus aren't telling me something. And I know it has something to do with Grace and who her dad is."

"Harry, please, just…"

"Just what? Let it go?"

Remus shifted at that, the not-so-subtle nod to the words he had said to him in January, when he had all but admitted that there was a secret there.

His mum said nothing, simply shook her head with her thumb pressed to her lips, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment and Harry figured that maybe a little less attitude might do a bit more to encourage her to be forthcoming.

"Look, I get it, Grace is just a kid making up stories –" his mum met his eyes at that and he couldn't quite make sense of the look in hers at the statement so he just went on "- but he has to be someone, right? Why won't you just tell me who?"

"It was a long time ago, Harry. Why does it matter now?"

"If it didn't matter you wouldn't be keeping it a secret, though. Why are you? Do I know him?"

"No."

It was too quick.

Far too quick for her response to be convincing and Harry knew, he knew, in that moment that he did know this man. And his mum really, really didn't want him to figure it out.

"Don't lie to me, Mum. I'm not a kid."

"Mummy, I can't find them!" Grace's voice sounded from the stairs.

"I'll go," Remus stood, leaving them at the table.

His mum sighed, pressed her hand to her forehead as she seemed to think for a second, before she brushed her hand through her hair and met his eyes, looking surer.

"It's complicated, Harry."

"Why is it complicated?"

"It just is."

"That's not vague."

"Yes, it's vague, it has to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Grace. And you. And…"

"Him?"

"Yes."

"Tell me who he is."

"No. I won't, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not safe."

That threw him. It wasn't a scenario Harry had considered. That he or Grace would somehow be endangered by the identity of the man.

"Is he dangerous?"

His mum sighed; "No."

"Well what, then?"

"Stop it, Harry. Just stop. I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Why not, why not, why not?

Harry wanted to cry it from the rooftops.

He had to know, the information his mum had now given him would only drive him crazy otherwise. Why was it dangerous to know who he was? What had he done? Would he come back for them? Put them in danger, even more than they already were because of who Harry was?

"Harry, I'm telling you. It's not safe for you, it's not safe for Grace, for anyone to know who he is. So stop asking. Now."

"I don't understand."

"Good. I don't want you to understand."

"Mum –"

"Harry. Stop asking. Stop looking. I mean it."

His mum's tone left no room for argument.

Harry ground his teeth as he thought on the tiny snippet he had managed to gain but he was far from satisfied by the exchange. Not even close. If anything, he was only more curious – unbelievable so – and, also, angry, because his mum had just went ahead and admitted that there was a secret there, that she and Remus were keeping, and he didn't get to be part of it. Because he had to be protected. As always.

Like a child.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head and lifted his fork, stabbing one of his potatoes with unnecessary force.

"He sounds like a real winner."

His mum's lips parted, as if to speak or protest, but she didn't. Instead, she just froze up, pursing her lips together as they looked at one another, and Harry was thrown when he realised that what he'd said had actually hurt her.

He felt bad, then, but, more than that, utterly confused; it was as if she still cared about this guy. Cared what Harry thought of him, even.

But before he could think any further on it Grace ran back into the room, straight to Harry, with Remus close behind, forcing him to feign delight at viewing the various paintings his little sister had done for him.

But, even with one eye upon the parchments, Harry easily caught it, the look of concern Remus gave his mum as he passed her, the brief hand on her shoulder before he took his own seat.

It was then, in that moment, that Harry realised it. That the whole conversation they had just had was so much more, so much bigger than just the question of who Grace's father was.

It was big, and bad and, potentially, shattering.

And, despite his mother's warnings, Harry knew there was no way he could possibly rest until he knew for sure what it was.