Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and ideas are the whole intellectual property of Ms. J.K. Rowling and are hers alone to sell. I do not receive, nor would I accept any compensation for any of the owned intellectual property of Ms. Rowling (nor that which she has licensed to WB etc.). What follows is just a wacky little ditty I wanted to get out of my brain. It only got there because I so love that which Ms. Rowling created. No copyright infringement is intended. **Toward the end of this chapter I have copied a small paragraph directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone pp. 221 in the Raincoast printing of the Bloomsbury edition – it is so not mine.

When good things come out of bad decisions

-Flashback-

'Professor!'

Severus glared at the impertinent student who'd just crashed into his dungeon classroom. 'Miss Ball,' he began acidly, double-digit points deductions on the tip of his tongue, but the angry rebuke died in his mouth when she spoke her next words.

'Sir, it's Harry.'

Sparing barely half a second to dismiss his class, and hearing nothing more beyond the fact that Harry was injured and on his way to the hospital wing, he sprinted ahead of the girl and up the stairs. He arrived barely seconds after Harry, who was being laid gently into a bed by the headmaster. Robes swirling behind him, Severus skidded to a halt at the side of Harry's bed. The boy was frighteningly pale and trembling as he tried desperately to fight the tears staining his cheeks.

Spotting his father at his side, his resolve seemed to falter. 'Daddy,' he sobbed, reaching out desperately. 'Hurt…'

'Shhh,' he soothed. 'Shhh, it's alright.' He gently eased Harry back into the pillows, wiping tears from his cheeks and brushing his hair from his forehead, all the while offering soothing words of comfort. 'Madam Pomfrey is going to fix you right up, you'll see. Don't you worry about a thing.' He gave him a reassuring smile as he backed up allowing the mediwitch to take over.

Keeping his face calm so as not to frighten Harry, and his voice so quiet that only Albus could hear him, Severus turned to the headmaster. 'What happened?'

'Well,' he replied slowly. 'He was running…'

'I've told him so many times not to run…'

'Yes,' Albus sighed. 'Well, the problem was that Peeves was harassing Argus, and had upset his floor polish… Harry came along at just the wrong moment, slipped, and went down the stairs…'

'I'll kill Peeves…'

'He is already dead, Severus – and anyway, it wouldn't help Harry now would it?' Albus said calmly.

'He's only five years old – Peeves should be…'

'He didn't do it to hurt Harry. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine – he ran ahead of me… I'm very sorry…'

Severus took a deep breath, calming himself before giving the headmaster a small smile. 'It's alright, sir. As you say, it was an accident. An unfortunate combination of events… and I'm sure he'll be fine, though perhaps this will finally teach him not to run in the halls…' In spite of his confident words, he couldn't keep the slight quaver out of his voice.

'Lots of bumps and bruises,' Poppy said with a sigh once she'd finished examining Harry, and had pulled the two professors aside. 'A mild concussion and a broken tibia – that's his shin bone. Now, I want to keep him here for tonight because of the concussion. It is mild, but I don't want to take any chances.' Severus nodded, having to work very hard to maintain his cool exterior. 'And the leg will need a splint for about a week.'

'What?' Severus questioned. 'Why can't you just mend the break?'

'The bones of young children are not like those of adults, or even teenagers Severus,' she explained. 'It's how children grow – when they are young their bones are in pieces, connected by cartilage. It's not until after puberty that most of their bones begin to fuse and start to really look like the adult shape you're thinking of.  Because of where he's broken it, if I mend it without being careful for this, the bone could fuse now, and it would stop growing longer, while the other leg wouldn't. The splinting, combined with a slower magical healing will make sure that this doesn't happen, and make sure that his bone growth is not damaged in any way. Trust me,' she smiled encouragingly. 'I know what I'm doing. Now, you're welcome to go and sit with him. You can apply the salve for the bumps and bruises, and the splinting will not be comfortable for him, but with the concussion I'm afraid that we can't let him fall asleep for a while…'

Severus had sat beside his bed that entire day and night – almost six years ago now. The difference was that that time, he'd been trying to keep Harry from falling asleep, and this time, he was praying that Harry would wake…

He was torn between feeling so relieved that Harry was alive, (and would, according to Poppy, recover) that he wanted to grab him and hold him close until he was twenty – and being so angry with him for the multitude of dangerous decisions and direct disobedience that had put him into the situation that had nearly killed him, that he wanted to give him such a walloping that he wouldn't sit comfortably again until he was twenty… Of course he'd do neither. For one, it was completely impractical to either stand or be held for nine years, and besides, the severe 'talking-to' he did have planned would certainly stay with the boy much longer.

Such was the eternal struggle of parenthood, Severus thought. When your child does something so abysmally foolish, and causes you to panic, fearing them dead or so badly hurt… that you don't know what to do first: bawl your eyes out with joy when they end up surviving and being alright, or throttle them yourself for terrifying you…

He'd told Harry to be wary of Quirrell. He'd told him to keep his mind and self away from what was being protected in the school… He'd told him so many times to stay away from dangerous situations. To get help from him, from Minerva, Filius, Albus… almost any of the professors… But what had he done? Granted Albus had been called away, but Minerva would have been available, and surely he should have known that in this situation, he could have interrupted the potion his father had been working on… He had to know that his safety was more valuable than a few potion ingredients…

But he hadn't interrupted, he hadn't gone to Minerva… He'd thrown himself into mortal danger, leaving Severus to find out about it in a note left pinned to the door of his lab.

When he'd finished his work and found the note, he'd rushed to the third floor, arriving at the same time as Albus. The children had made it past the dog, past the devil's snare, past the keys… Weasley and Granger were in the transfigured chess room, Weasley was injured and Granger was blubbering that Harry'd gone on past the potions.  He and Albus had arrived in the final chamber just in time to witness Voldemort desert Quirrell's body… the fool died – it wasn't quick.

And Harry… Harry had been left unconscious, still clutching the Philosopher's Stone…

He was brought out of his memories as Harry began to stir. 'Harry?'

'Hnnn…' Harry groaned, wincing as he tried to shift in his bed. Very gently, Severus placed Harry's glasses on his face and sat back into his chair. After a moment Harry managed to open his eyes and look around. As his gaze fell on his father he froze, swallowing nervously as his father merely stared at him impassively. 'Dad?' His throat was so dry that his voice cracked. Wordlessly Severus helped him to sit up and held a glass to his lips so he could gratefully gulp down some water.

'Are you angry?' Harry asked after a minute, becoming unnerved by the silence.

'Yes.' It was a simple answer, not yelled, nor growled. Not menacing, nor kind. Just 'yes'.

'I'm sorry…' Harry began, feeling tears begin to form behind his eyes.

'I told you to leave it alone. I told you to stay away from Quirrell. I told you…' His voice had begun to rise, and he stopped himself, taking a deep breath and rising. 'We'll talk about this later,' he said, standing up and moving to the fireplace and throwing in some floo-call powder. 'Albus!' he called. 'He's awake.'

******************

After promising to let Madam Pomfrey know if his condition changed at all, Severus managed to convince her that Harry would be more rested if he were to sleep in his own bed instead of the lumpy cots in the hospital wing. Indeed, he'd been right, because Harry rarely remembered sleeping so comfortably as he had the second his head hit his pillow in his room.  When he woke the next morning, his father was there.

'Lie still for a bit,' he said softly as Harry struggled to get up. 'Let me have a look at you.' Severus had felt Harry's forehead for a temperature and examined his remaining scratches and bumps before summoning the matron who, after a similar examination pronounced Harry fit to attend the feast that evening as long as he rested in bed all day.

As soon as she'd gone Severus had helped Harry sit up a little, propping him up with several thick pillows. Harry tried hard to busy himself with examining his pyjamas, which he didn't remember changing into last night… he wondered if his father had gotten him changed after he'd fallen asleep… Speaking of his father…

'We need to talk. Do you feel up to it?' Severus asked, sitting on the edge of the bed so he was facing Harry.

No 'Yes. I'm sorry…"

'Which is…'

'Not as good as not doing something I shouldn't have done in the first place.' Harry finished his father's favourite lecture phrase with him. 'I know, Dad. But I knew someone was going to try and steal the Stone, and you were in your research lab, and Uncle Albus was away, and Auntie Minnie was angry with me…' he shrugged. 'I had to do something…'

'When did you even find out about the Philosopher's Stone?' Severus demanded.

'When we came to the school after my birthday last summer.' Harry confessed, his face flushing with guilt.

'You snuck away from the elves.' He made it a statement, but Harry confirmed it anyway. 'And you eavesdropped on a conversation between the headmaster and I?'

'Yes,' Harry whispered.

'I believe you and I have established the consequences of you deliberately eavesdropping on private conversations between the teachers at this school?' Harry flushed a deeper red, but nodded again. 'Well, as it was nearly a year ago, I think we can say the penalty time has expired on that one, but there's still the matter of your disobedience that lead up to your current situation. I remember telling you to avoid Quirrell outside of class.'

'We didn't know it was Quirrell… we didn't know who it was.'

'And that makes it alright?' Severus yelled. 'So you believe some mystery person – certainly dangerous, was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone, whose use I'm guessing you knew, so you take it upon yourself to go and stop him?! Why didn't you go to Minerva? Or Me?'

'We tried Auntie Minnie. We asked to see Uncle Albus, but she said he was called away, and when we told her it was important because we thought someone would try and take the Philosopher's Stone, she got angry that we knew about it and told us it was safe. You were in your research lab – with the door shut – we waited as long as we could and then I left that note so you'd know where I was…'

'Did you explain to Minerva what evidence you had to suggest that someone would go after the stone?' Harry shook his head, looking intently at his hands. 'Why didn't you interrupt me in my lab to tell me about all this?'

'No one's supposed to disturb you in your research lab, a potion could be destroyed.'

'Do you honestly think that this situation applies? Did you honestly believe that I would value a potion over your safety, and the safety of two other students?'

Harry shrugged. 'I dunno…'

'Well I don't!' Severus replied irritably, causing Harry to jump. 'Harry,' he said more gently, forcing his son to meet his eyes. 'No potion is more important to me than your safety. I want to make sure that you have that firmly imbedded in that skull of yours before we go any further. Do you understand?'

'Yes,'

'What do you understand?'

'Safety is more important than potions.'

'Your safety is more important than anything. Don't ever forget it, Harry.' He paused, finally looking away from Harry before continuing in barely more than a whisper. 'You should have interrupted me. You shouldn't have been in there alone like that.'

'Ron and Hermione…'

'Were not with you in that final chamber! Merlin's beard, Harry, Albus and I barely made it in time to stop you killing yourself in the process of stopping Quirrell…'

Severus had Harry's food for the day brought to his room, and the two sat talking while he ate. There was much talk of how many ways Severus would throttle Harry himself if he terrified him like that again, as well as many apologies and promises to think things through more carefully from Harry. After breakfast, and again after lunch, Harry argued briefly that he wanted to get out of bed and go see his friends, but both times Severus reminded him of Madam Ponfrey's condition if he wanted to attend the leaving feast, so instead Harry napped and played a couple of games of chess with his father.

The leaving feast that night was a difficult affair for Harry. He'd been looking forward to his first Hogwarts feasts as a Hogwarts student, for as long as he could remember – first, in the years when he'd been too young to attend, and then when he'd observed from the head table with his father and the teachers… He'd always dreamed of the day he'd finally be down here with the students, enjoying the feast with friends, pigging out on the pudding… Unfortunately, his first year's worth of student feasts had left something to be desired…

During the welcoming feast, he'd been too worried about his father's reaction to his being assigned to Gryffindor to really enjoy it… At Christmas his father had asked him to sit up at the head table with him. This sounded really cool to the other students – to be invited to eat the Christmas feast with the teachers, but in actual fact, it was kinda boring. The teachers always talked about their lessons, or argued about editorials in scholarly journals. They never talked about Quidditch, or anything fun. And Harry could never get away with skipping his veggies in favour of a double serving of pudding…

Now, for the leaving feast… He'd been hoping to have a great time with all his friends. Maybe even be celebrating having won the Quidditch cup… Unfortunately, they'd had to forfeit the last Quidditch game of the season, and so, their chances for the cup, because of Harry being in the infirmary. Oliver had said that he wasn't angry, and didn't blame Harry one bit, but still, Harry wasn't quite sure, and so he decided to keep his distance, just in case.

No one in Gryffindor was still angry with him for the points he'd lost helping Hagrid (though none of them knew exactly what he'd been doing, it had gotten around that he'd been caught out because he had been trying to help a friend), and no one blamed him for missing the final Quidditch match. As Dumbledore had said to Harry in the infirmary, everything that happened with Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone was a complete secret, so naturally, everyone knew exactly what had happened…

In fact, even Cat (who had been quite cold toward Harry ever since she'd come back from her detentions with Snape, looking distinctly the worse for wear) had patted him on the back and said she was very proud to call herself a member of the same house as him. She'd looked quite emotional as well, when she'd said how glad she was that he was alright and that she really was sorry for how she'd treated him earlier in the term. Harry believed her this time, and only made her suffer through a moment's silence with the whole common room watching before he smiled and accepted her apology.

But in spite of how kind everyone was being toward him – congratulating him, and saying how happy they were that he was alright… the main thing on Harry's mind was how upset his father had been.

Harry was finally brought out of his thoughts by Ron's elbow as the headmaster began his end of year speech, every word making Harry feel more guilty… Ron got fifty points – Hermione got fifty points – he got sixty points… Harry looked up to see his father's reaction at this. Severus smiled ever so slightly, just enough to let Harry know that he wasn't cross with him, and this calmed him greatly.

'There are all kinds of courage,' Dumbledore went on, smiling. 'It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.'

It was pandemonium. Harry was instantly distracted. He'd spent a lot of time helping Neville understand potions better (though try as he might he couldn't dissuade the boy from being terrified of his Dad), he'd passed – though the results wouldn't be out until the next day, Severus had relented to Harry's queries that afternoon and told him that his friend had passed.

'Neville! You did it!' he cried, slapping Neville on the back along with everyone else. 'We've won! Because of you!' Neville looked like he might pass out from the shock as, with a sweep of Dumbledore's hand, the colours in the great hall changed from silver and green to red and gold.

Harry braved a look up to the head table. Hagrid was crying into the tablecloth, McGonagall was smiling broadly, Dumbledore winked at him, and his father… though Harry doubted that anyone else would catch it, the head of Slytherin suppressed a grin and sent his son a look of pride.

TBC