18 Sept 1991 - Sunday

Snape settled into his desk chair in his office and glared at the potions that all needed analysing for the resumption of classes on Monday. They were from his first year Gryffindor/Slytherin class and he could all ready see that many had not been brewed up to his standards. Just as he was reaching for the first rack of potions there came a polite knock on his door. He pointed his wand at the door to reveal his visitors as he was not expecting anyone during his free period.

"The twin banes of my existence," Snape muttered under his breath. "Come!" he ordered sharply.

"Sorry to bother you, Professor," began George as they stepped into the office.

"We have a matter to discuss with you," said Fred.

"Why not bring your problem to your Head of House?" he asked thinly.

Fred and George glanced at each other. A nearly imperceptible nod from George had Fred replying, "We believe that Professor McGonagall can't help, Sir."

George clarified softly, "Not won't but can't…"

Snape nodded for the twins to sit in the chairs before his desk, and he steepled his hands over his abdomen to listen.

George began again, "We know that you're aware of the bullying Hermione's getting from our House, Professor."

"Our little brother Ron is set to break mum's cooking spoon with his bum," Fred said shaking his head.

"Is your brother the instigator?" inquired Snape. Both twins shook their heads.

"Ron sat with Hermione on the train at the start of term, Professor," said George. "They shared the same compartment. We're certain Ron's acting out because Draco and Harry "took" Hermione from him."

"Dean and Seamus just don't like Hermione," sighed Fred. "That's only gotten worse since classes started."

"Then Mr. Thomas and Mr. Finnegan are the instigators," stated Snape. He clamped his Occlumency down upon the thread of a memory of Sirius Black and James Potter who disliked him for simply existing.

The twins nodded. "Ron follows them, Professor," said George with a tinge of disgust. "And, the three of them have gotten the entire House against Hermione."

"It doesn't help that she's still losing points, too," pointed out Fred.

"Which is something that never mattered to the two of you," remarked Snape with a very slight smirk.

Fred and George smiled. George agreed, "We may seem like clowns to everyone, Professor, but me and Gred have specific plans that require a certain amount of education."

"Forge is right, Sir," nodded Fred. "We can also see how much our world means to Hermione and how much she wants to be a part of it…"

Snape interrupted smoothly, "I am certain there were two… gentlemen… at the Gryffindor table that 'booed' when the first child was Sorted into Slytherin." He glared pointedly at the twins who both squirmed uneasily under the stern look.

George spoke up, "Yeah… uhm… about that, Professor… me and Fred… well…"

"What my oh-so-eloquent counterpart is trying to say, Sir, is that Hermione took us right to sorts about that right after the feast," butted in Fred with a slight huff of annoyance.

George nodded abjectly. "I think that set Dean and Seamus right off but Hermione was right. Milli…"

"Millicent Bulstrode," Fred added softly.

George nodded. "Well, she's only eleven years old, and Hermione told us…"

"After hitting us," chuckled Fred.

George smiled at his brother, but then sobered. Snape had not lost the stern frown upon his features. "Professor, after Hermione made it clear how mean we'd been she then demanded we apologise to Milli."

"Boy did that set off Dean and Seamus!" Fred huffed darkly. "They thought Hermione was being unreasonable and that just set up a terrible row."

"Professor McGonagall came in at that point and we all got a lecture and lost points," continued George.

"Which really made Dean and Seamus mad at Hermione," sighed Fred.

"Hmmm, no doubt it did. Tell me," inquired the Potions Master, "Did the two of you apologise for your rudeness at the Welcoming Feast?"

Both boys nodded firmly. "Milli's rather a nice girl," remarked Fred.

"Draco and Harry are good, too, Professor," interjected George. "Hermione thinks the world of them both and they make her feel like she belongs, but…"

"But what, Mr. Weasley?" asked Snape as he straightened in his chair and clasped his hands upon the surface of his desk.

Fred drew in a steadying breath before speaking. "Dean and Seamus are instigators, Professor but they're not alone in their feelings towards Hermione. A good portion want her out of our House."

"Or better, out of Hogwarts altogether," finished George darkly.

George's tone of voice was worrisome. Snape knew that he meant getting Hermione out of Hogwarts meant 'out of the Wizarding world'. He would have immediately blamed Blood Purity as the cause of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan's hate for the Muggle-born but that would make no sense. Both boys were half-bloods.

Snape considered the twins, and the problem they brought before him. For a long moment he was silent, and then he spoke. "Gentlemen, I am aware of Miss Granger's situation but I must be honest with you; there is little that I can do as the girl is not in my House." He grimaced at the fallen expression on the two 3rd year students faces. "I can only encourage you to bring your concerns to your Head of House…"

Fred burst, "We've had three lectures, Professor Snape! All about how we're all in Gryffindor and we have a duty to our Founder…"

George stretched out a hand and touched his twin's arm to calm him. "Professor, the lectures are nothing to do with how anyone is treating Hermione, and that they shouldn't. The lectures are about how noble our House is, that we should have pride in ourselves, that we should show the school that we are united. Our House is united. Each day, and with every points loss Hermione incurs, Gryffindor is more united to get rid of Hermione."

"And Professor McGonagall just seems to be ignoring that," huffed Fred.

"What of Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked seemingly out of the blue. "How is he treated?"

For a moment Fred and George looked at each other, then their teacher. George spoke, "There was some teasing at the first of term…"

"Mostly about his frog…" murmured Fred.

"Trevor is a toad, Gred," George said softly to his twin. He then addressed Professor Snape, "Nev's ignored now. No one but us has made any effort to befriend Nev," said George. "He stays very quiet and does his best not to attract attention."

Snape rose from his desk, peripherally aware that his free period was coming to an end. "Misters Weasley, I can keep an eye on the situation but anymore I am afraid my hands are tied by the By-Laws of Hogwarts. I can speak to my colleague but I am not allowed to interfere with any student of Professor McGonagall's House." He slipped around his desk, urged the twins from their chairs, and escorted them to the door of his office. "If…" he rested a hand on each of their shoulders, and eyed them slowly, "...Miss Granger were re-Sorted into my House... there would be more I could do on her behalf."

Fred and George paused as their teacher mentioned "re-Sorting". They both grinned in understanding at the Head of Slytherin House. "Thank you, Professor," they both spoke in perfect unison. Snape nodded, then closed the door behind the two wiley Gryffindors.

Out in the corridor of the dungeons George turned to his brother, "We've some research to do, Gred."

"Off to the library, Forge?"

"Aye! Let's find out about getting Hermione re-Sorted!"

Arms in brotherly fashion over their shoulders they sauntered up the corridor and out of the main dungeons.


19 Sept 1991 - Hermione's Birthday

Hermione woke warily, as she had since Extra Strength Itching Powder had been jinxed all over her that morning she wound up in the Infirmary scratching herself nearly to death. Whether no one else believed it so she did. Had it not been for her screams her stupid roommates would have stayed in the corner of the dorm afraid of her AFTER they had giggled like idiots. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil still made faces at her, whispered insults whenever they could, but they appeared to be leaving her alone. She was alone in their dorm and likely a few minutes late for her morning shower.

Still, Hermione looked around the dorm, and lifted her wand. "Magia Revelare," she whispered. The charm had been taught to her by Professor Flitwick to help her discover hidden, magical traps. Breathing a sigh of relief when none showed she started to throw her duvet off… and froze when her toes felt something.

Looking to the end of the bed there were five gaily wrapped packages. Once more she pointed her wand which caused a message in smokey letters to rise above the packages.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione!" echoed the exuberant, combined voices of the twins Weasley. "From Gred, Forge, Nev, Draco and Harry. Open these up and then meet us for breakfast at the Gryffindor table where only the cool kids eat!"

Hermione chuckled, placed her wand on the bedside table, and attacked the first gift. Fred and George's gifts were somewhat of a mystery until she realised that they were parts of one object; a miniature Foe Glass upon a pedestal that allowed it to swivel. Neville had given her seeds for an Elf Rose and instructions for when to plant her seeds. Draco's gift was a beautiful quill that his card said was made from one of the fuzzy pin-feathers of a Snow Peacock. The nib was highly polished pewter. Harry's gift complemented Draco's; a rainbow of coloured inks and a scroll of white parchment.

Hermione hadn't received any books for her birthday but that was all right. She loved books but that wasn't always what she wanted.

She rushed through her shower, dressed quickly, and practically ran down from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall to meet her friends. Before she reached the all ready noisy Great Hall she plowed right into her Potions Teacher. She feared the worst but as she glanced upward she found his hand stretched out to help her to her feet. With that assistance came the shadow of a smile in his dark eyes. The smile did not touch his face.

Snape helped the witch to her feet. She brushed the dust from her robes until he swept his wand over her. "Tut, Miss Granger. You are a witch."

"Sorry, Professor. You're right. I forget a lot," she smiled briefly. "I'm sorry, too, for running into you. It's just it's my birthday and I didn't want to miss my friends at breakfast."

Snape nodded and ushered her into the Great Hall. "So I am informed, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy came to me before breakfast to ask for permission to sit at Gryffindor's table. You will find them there."

Snape was rewarded with a beam of a smile that was sunshine itself. His smile, confined to his gaze, drifted across his lips as the young girl spotted her friends and ran to go sit with them. She did not see the pleasant expression but Harry did. He smiled at his Head of House, and Snape found that pesky warmth filling his heart.

-That Evening-

Professor Snape did take over Hermione Granger's detention from Professor McGonagall, yet he included Draco and Harry in it as well. Both knew the detention would be part of their Hogwarts Permanent Record but both boys had insisted upon being there when the choice was given.

The evening began with a 6 inch essay for Hermione that detailed her doing spells that she was not prepared for and what the consequences were. Snape had several books for her to reference and she was quickly finished with the essay and was able to join her two friends who were busy brewing something fragrant and mysterious.

"It's pretty," remarked Hermione as she stared down into the #3 cauldron that was big enough for 2 litres of potion. The miasma was pearly grey with a few odd lumps that were fading, or melting away. "What is it, Professor?"

Professor Snape glided effortlessly over between his two Slytherins and sprinkled in something that appeared to be black ash. "Twenty clockwise stirs, Mr. Potter. When he is finished, Mr. Malfoy, be sure to have the three #2 cauldrons ready. One under stasis, one add the dried Sage to, and the third one requires the measure of aloe." The professor turned slightly to Hermione. "We are creating a 'tri-fold' potion, Miss Granger. This is…" she started to interrupt and finish his lecture because she understood, but he stopped her from speaking by raising his hand. "Allow me to finish, Miss Granger," his voice admonished. "We are brewing three different substances that begin with the same base. Once the potion is portioned and transferred to the new cauldrons we will add specific ingredients for each one that will change the consistency of the potions." He nodded, allowing the inquisitive student to ask the question on her mind.

"What ingredient is for the third potion and why is it in stasis?" asked Hermione as she watched Harry finish stirring the potion.

"Ah, that one requires a more delicate touch than these two yet have," Snape smirked at each of his Snakes who each glanced askance at him. "And, I shall complete that potion once all of you have returned to your common rooms for the evening." Hermione appeared a bit disappointed. "Would I allow your idleness, Miss Granger?" She lifted her gaze hopefully up to her teacher's dark eyes. "Come with me."

Snape turned and as Hermione fell in line to follow, both Harry and Draco smirked at each other with the smugness of a secret well kept.

In his potions ingredients cabinet Snape had laid out a variety of dried herbs; all were of scents he had detected upon the girl when she had come to class. It wasn't an unpleasant aroma but it was so many thrown together with no thought that the scents tended to assault his own senses. He had become inured to that particular problem as all young girls experimented with scents or had a mixture of scents in their cleansing products. For most the scents might be bearable, even acceptable in some circumstances, but Snape had been blessed with persnickety olfactory senses that could determine each scent any young girl, or young boy, tended to douse themselves with.

Snape pointed to each of the herbs and spoke of their properties, "Several varieties of rose, then white hyacinth, white lavender, sage, orange thyme. If you prefer others I am sure to have something that pleases. Choose one, Miss Granger."

Hermione was very soon engulfed by a heaven of scents. The dried roses went from subtle to spicy, and although she liked all of the herbs, it was the rose that fascinated her most. "The rose, sir," Hermione smiled. "The very red one. It's scent is light but there's… hmm… it's…" her voice faded.

"Elf Rose has a truly mysterious scent that brings to mind the gentility of Spring, the spice of excitement, and the subtle sweetness of temptation." Snape nodded as he picked up the dried and crushed petals. He then turned and removed a small, corked bottle from off one of the shelves. "The rose is delicate and complex." He flipped off the cork of the bottle with his thumb, and held it towards Hermione. "Moreso, perhaps is the Elf Rose. It tells the tale of mystery, exploration, the quest for answers sublime, yet dark. It can be sultry or romantic all in a breath." Hermione was mesmerised by her teacher's voice. He smiled briefly just as she realised she was blushing. "You have picked well, Miss Granger. Come along, let us see what my two Snakes are up to."

"We're ready, Professor!" announced Harry with a grin.

Snape moved towards the workbench to see how each of the potions were. They were thicker now, pale white, with the chiaroscuro of a glow toward the edge of the cauldrons. "Very good, gentlemen." Into each cauldron he sprinkled the dried roses and then a drop of the rose oil for each. "Ten stirs counter-clockwise each, gentlemen. Mr. Potter, I would like you to pour yours into that mold to your right when you have finished stirring. Mr. Malfoy, your potion is complete but I would like it poured into this bottle." Snape Summoned a shaped bottle of clear crystal with an widened, flat bottom, so it could not be easily tipped.

Draco's potion filled the pretty crystal bottle. Just as he finished Harry's potion, which the boy had poured into a mold that was divided into four portions, the potion had hardened into bars flecked with dried roses and smelled beautifully of rose and aloe.

"Hermione, you want to help wrap the soap?" asked Harry.

"Sure, Harry!" she nodded and walked over as he was popping the soap out of the mold.

"Professor Snape made this really nice wrap of sage parchment and a ribbon… uhm…" Draco glanced up at his teacher for help.

"A ribbon infused with sage, Mr. Malfoy," finished Snape.

"That's it!" agreed Draco.

Harry handed Hermione a bar of the soap and the wrapper and ribbon. "Here you are, Hermione."

For a moment they were all quiet as they wrapped the soap. Snape wrapped two and then he added one of the ribbons with a dried rosebud around the top of the bottle. He then handed it to Hermione who took it hesitantly. Harry and Draco pushed the soap in front of her.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" crowed Harry and Draco.

"I made you the best sage and rose shampoo in the world," boasted Draco. "It'll be great for your curly hair, Hermione."

"I made you the best aloe and rose soap, Hermione. This will make you super-clean and you'll have soft skin that will make Parvati and Lavender jealous!" enthused Harry as he sniffed a wrapped bar of soap.

"They're mine?" Hermione beamed as she hugged the shampoo to her chest. Harry and Draco nodded, and grinned. "Wow… thank you! This has been the best birthday ever!"

Hermione had forgotten about the third portion of potion but Snape had not. As soon as the three friends left he removed the Stasis Spell, and finished up the last potion. He added ambergris and several drops of the rose oil. When he was finished he sent the result into a slim, tapered cut crystal of quartz that he sealed. The Potions Master then banished the exquisite bottle to its intended recipient.


Hermione, who had been long asleep, woke in the middle of the night with the sensation of being watched. Before her eyes opened she reached for her wand but she did not need it. Hovering over her was a beautiful, tapered bottle that softly glowed with the rosy-pale liquid within. Hermione caught the bottle and it revealed a small label next the dried rosebud caught in the ribbon around the neck of the container. The small label, written in a spiky hand she'd all ready seen on her essays in Potions, read:

A perfume all your own. Happy birthday, Miss Granger. ~SS

With a smile, and the perfume bottle next to her heart, Hermione went back to sleep where she slept peacefully.


21 Sept 1991 - Saturday

The rest of the week Hermione did her best to avoid her House mates; especially Eleanor Broodland who had been released from the Infirmary on Thursday. Twice Hermione had been hexed in the corridors but she'd dodged each one. A lecture from their Head of House ended the hexing war, but the teasing and pranking continued. Hermione was glad of having lunch to sit with her friends, but breakfast at the Gryffindor table had changed for the better once Fred, George, and Neville joined her place of exile. Draco and Harry tried to sit with her but Professor McGonagall had forbade it.

In Gryffindor Hermione noticed that the nasty looks she would get in the common room were starting to fade as the twins and Neville were not going to be chased off.

Things were easier but not entirely. Hermione would not allow her guard to drop and for that she was slowly losing sleep as her body refused to relax.

Harry was having problems as well that were making his days difficult. Nightmares, horrific ones that made him scream or fight in his bed until he fell from it, were plaguing his sleep. Draco was suffering, too, from a decrease in sleep and because Harry wouldn't talk about the nightmares to him.

Also suffering was Prefect Billock, who was awakened nearly every night because Draco couldn't wake his friend and would wake him, instead. Once roused, Billock would find that Harry had retreated to the space under his bed. The Prefect sat poised in vigil over Harry while Draco was sent to awaken their Head of House.

When Harry did awaken he would only respond to Snape, seeking comfort in the stoic man's arms. He would weep silently against Snape's chest until he fell back into an exhausted sleep. Snape rarely was able to go back to sleep after tucking the small boy into bed because he would worry about him.

Consequently, despite strong coffee in the morning, Snape's mood wasn't at his best for his classes.

And Harry wouldn't talk to him about the nightmares.

And Draco was turning back into a little brat.

And Orencia and Prefect Billock had broken up, making everyone's life in Slytherin House miserable because they wouldn't make up.

These concerns were on the mind of the Potions Master when he dressed in his finest black robes, left the castle, and then Apparated to Malfoy Manor for tea on Saturday.

A somewhat distracted house elf escorted him to Narcissa's parlor where the lady of the house greeted him.

Narcissa Malfoy was a regal looking, tall, slim woman who wore her long, blond hair in a soft bun with perfectly styled curls dancing lightly around her face in a random way that was hardly random. The beauty that was Lucius Malfoy's greatest jewel was dressed in a gown of powder blue silk that complemented her ice blue eyes and creamy complexion.

Narcissa greeted Snape warmly and directed him to place his outer cloak upon a gold plated brass coat tree inside the parlor door. Snape did so, and then seated himself upon one of the silk upholstered, pine chairs that had a subtle, but clean design of celery green and cream stripes. It matched the rest of the furniture and the entire parlor.

"Lucius regrets being a bit late, but he was called to the Ministry for some last minute business," Narcissa smiled and bade her guest to seat himself.

Snape settled in his chair and took in a measure of his hostess. He'd had a crush on the willowy Black girl when he was a student. Narcissa had been the definition of grace and kindness. She held herself above the petty politics of "Pureblood Supremacy" that riddled their House. Even before she was a made Head Girl in her seventh year Narcissa was taking care of the younger Slytherins. She organised study groups, talked to the girls, and even some of the boys.

Instead of feeling jealous when Narcissa and Lucius had announced they were to marry upon leaving Hogwarts he had felt happy; especially after he had seen how happy Lucius had been before he left Hogwarts at the end of Snape's first year. Lucius was not forgotten, though, something he made sure of when he came to visit Narcissa on every weekend of her seventh year. Lucius always spared a few minutes for the "poor" Slytherin boy.

Narcissa Malfoy had matured from a girl into a beautiful woman. Sometimes Snape felt his heart ache with that old school boy crush when he saw her. She would never know of that. As her husband was Snape's friend so too, was she.

"Do tell me how is Draco getting along, Severus?" Narcissa placed a cup of tea in front of him.

"He is doing quite well in almost all of his classes with the exception of some difficulty in Transfiguration. I am certain he will work it out with added study," Snape replied.

"Transfiguration was never an easy subject for Lucius, but he did manage an E for his NEWTs. Is my son doing well in your class, Severus?" she inquired. She politely did not mention that she was a Mistress of Transfiguration.

"He is doing as well as expected," Severus hedged smoothly. In truth, he didn't wish to assess any student so new into the term.

"I am disappointed that my son is still allowing his temper to get the better of him, Severus." Narcissa was obviously referring to the two detentions Draco had already managed to earn. Draco, of course, had written the first letter to his father to tell about his infraction, whereas Snape had written the second letter.

"I believe that he and Harry may benefit from a meditation technique that is a foundation to Occlumency that I will be teaching them once the term is settled," he replied quietly. Of course he did not mention that he had hopes that the meditation would aid in easing Harry's nightmares.

"That is good to know, Severus. I know how much it has helped Lucius since you taught him." Narcissa did not speak of it aloud, although they both knew it, Lucius' fair skill with Occlumency had saved his life a time or two. She did, however, give the Potions Master a slight, gracious nod in acknowledgement. "Draco seems quite happy with this friendship he has with Harry Potter," said Narcissa, gently changing the subject. "I was very pleased to learn that he had disassociated himself from the sons of Andrew Crabbe and Liam Goyle. I told Lucius that I was worried that the lazy habits and their bullish nature could influence Draco and neither his father nor I want to see his education to suffer." Narcissa took a sip of her tea and then turned her gaze fully to him. "I would never have guessed the son of Lily and James Potter would end up in our House, Severus. Remarkable, isn't it?"

Snape nodded. "Has Draco told you much about Mr. Potter?"

Narcissa smiled. "Quite a bit, Severus. I think I know almost everything that Harry has told my son; with the exception of secrets that boys will keep between themselves."

Snape sipped his tea thoughtfully. He wondered how much Harry might have told Draco of his home life. The main concern that had impelled him to accept this invitation to tea was to hopefully ferret out more information on the boy.

"Ah, Severus!" Lucius entered at that moment, tossing his outer robe over the back of a chair. He went to Narcissa and chastely kissed her cheek before sitting in a chair opposite Snape and accepting a cup of tea from his wife.

"A difficulty at the Ministry, Lucius?" asked Snape with feigned nonchalance.

"The Minister had another one of his panic attacks," Lucius replied blithely as he seated himself casually in one of the matching chairs.

"Would this be over the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" asked Snape.

Lucius nodded and then took a sip of his tea. "The Minister and that toady of his, Dolores Umbridge are looking upon the political and media opportunities that would arise with the revival of the Tournament. Fudge believes it would be most prestigious for Hogwarts to be involved, thus forcing Dumbledore to act, for once, with the Minister." He sighed and was quiet for a moment. "However, the Board of Governors are in an uproar over the whole thing due to the danger attached to the Tournament."

"It is unconscionable to put children in such deadly circumstances," murmured Narcissa. "It is enough that we must concern ourselves with past... associates."

"Quite right, my dear. The Minister is not even taking that into consideration and as such he is panicking over the backlash he is receiving not just from the Board, but parents, as well." Lucius sighed, put down his teacup, and elegantly crossed one leg over the other. He shrugged as he sipped at his tea, "That dim-witch Umbridge should never have spoken to the Daily Prophet about the supposed revival of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Snape nodded. He recalled that massacre of an article that extolled the virtues of wizarding games that had taken the lives of at least ten children since its inception. He then watched the older wizard choosing to leave the conversation to his friend.

Snape had no doubts about Lucius Malfoy's motives; what he did was for his family, and the honor of the Malfoy name. They had both taken the Dark Mark but Lucius was following the dictates of his father whereas Snape had done what Abraxas ordered him to do once he had foolishly pledged himself to the wicked man.

Snape survived as he was able. Lucius, though, was an obedient son, or else. He did as his father commanded; no matter if it came from the Dark Lord, or Abraxas Malfoy. Lucius had a new family to keep safe, and what he did, even if it was distasteful, he did to keep his family alive. Many in the wizarding world did not understand that there were more than just Snape and the Malfoys caught in such a deadly trap. Many of the Death Eaters had families caught in the maelstrom of the Dark Lord's evil.

Snape, with his talent in Potions, and the Malfoys with their money, quickly became part of the Dark Lord's most trusted. They weren't part of His elite, Inner Circle, but they were very close.

It wasn't until Abraxas Malfoy's untimely death from Dragon Pox, that the two men had come together. Snape, at great risk to himself, confessed to Lucius of his spying for Dumbledore, and Lucius revealed that he had plans in place to not only make it impossible for him to return to the Dark Lord's side should he return, but to restore the Malfoy family name and reputation and to keep his family safe.

When the Wizengamot held the Death Eater Tribunal, Lucius had refused to ally himself with Dumbledore. Dumbledore's charm had failed to thaw the aristocrat; he had underestimated the young, intelligent wizard who was able to provide solid proof that he had been under Imperius and thus innocent.

The Dark Lord often used the Unforgivables against his own followers, and there were times that he either tortured them with the Cruciatus Curse, for his own enjoyment, or put them under the Imperius Curse to get them to do his bidding when they would otherwise turn and run.

Lucius had never tortured or killed a Muggle unless he had been under the Dark Lord's Imperius and his pensieve evidence had been all too horrific, and convincing for the Wizengamot.

Snape, on the other hand, spent three months in Azkaban before Dumbledore gathered the evidence required to free the young man. It was a source of constant irritation over the years for Snape knowing that should Dumbledore choose to do so he would be gone from Hogwarts and back in Azkaban before he could blink.

"From my son's letters, I gather that the fight he and Harry had is no longer a problem," Lucius made it sound as though his mention of the fight Draco and Harry had had over the feathers and the summoned house elf, was of no great concern.

"Those two are quite united over a new cause, Lucius," Snape replied simply. He watched the older wizard and could tell by the briefest of expressions that Draco had not, yet, told his father of his Muggle born friend, Hermione Granger.

Lucius watched as Narcissa poured him a fresh cup of tea and then he leaned forward to take it from her. "I have not heard of this 'new cause', Severus. What is this about?" asked Lucius.

"A young witch of their year. Hermione Granger. She is an extremely bright and intelligent girl, but rather insecure and as a consequence she has a bad habit of needing to answer all the questions in class, to the point if she is not called upon quickly enough, she will blurt out the answer."

Lucius smirked at the younger wizard. In his final year at Hogwarts he could recall a certain first year Slytherin who had been similarly annoying. Taking another sip, he encouraged Snape to continue.

"Miss Granger was Sorted into Gryffindor and she is not... settling in well there. Her other teachers indulge her bad habits concentrating only on the fact that they are in possession of an intelligent student that desires to learn. Everything." A minor sneer crossed Snape's face for a moment.

"And you do not indulge her?" asked Lucius.

"Although I understand the child's insecurities I take points where I see fit and I do not tolerate any student speaking when not spoken to. Unfortunately for Miss Granger, this has led to a loss of points for Gryffindor, and one detention for the young witch. From me." Snape put down his empty teacup.

"There is something else you have to say, my friend," surmised Lucius. "What is it?"

Snape took a deep breath then replied, "Miss Granger hexed a student that was taunting her with a very sophisticated Boil Hex."

Lucius leaned forward as he was very interested in what the Potions Master had to say about a first year wielding a 'sophisticated' hex. Hexes were notoriously difficult to control which is why they tended to be widespread in their damage, and not terribly harmful. "How sophisticated, Severus?"

"Miss Granger centred the boils on the student's nose," he grimaced with a dark half-smile.

Lucius laughed and clapped his hands together once. "Capital! Good form, Miss Granger!"

Snape's right eyebrow rose briefly. "I suppose that is why I took over the week's worth of detention Minerva gave to the girl."

Lucius' brow furrowed in anger. Narcissa gave no clue to the dismay she felt. Instead she spoke softly, "How good of you, Severus. More tea?" He nodded and held out his cup for his hostess to fill.

"Am I to understand I that the young lady has made no friends in Gryffindor and they are ill-disposed to do so, Severus?"

"Fred and George Weasley have but those two have never followed the popular vote. Neville Longbottom has also become a friend as he is a terribly nervous sort," clarified Snape.

"Augusta Longbottom's boy?" asked Narcissa with pointed curiosity. Lucius merely shook his head, and Narcissa gave him the shadow of a glare. "Augusta is a fearsome witch, Severus, and her brother Algernon is…"

"Algernon tried to kill the boy when he was seven by tossing him from the north widow's walk," sneered Lucius. Snape was aghast. "It was fortunate that the child's magic manifested and saved him, Severus."

"We still should have brought charges against the wizard for abuse," Narcissa chided softly. She turned to Snape. "How does the Longbottom boy fare, Severus?"

"He is nervous about everything," sighed Snape. "Miss Granger's presence, I have noted of late, appears to calm him. He has also improved in his work since he blew up a potion in class recently. I believe he understands the seriousness of Potions better."

"Tell me, Severus," smirked Lucius as he sipped at his tea and returned the discussion to the interesting Miss Granger. "How did a first year ever manage such a spell. Are you teaching magic we were not taught at our age?" He chuckled softly, and Narcissa smiled at him.

Snape chuckled softly himself, then elucidated, "Many students have learned the Boil Hex in their first year, or even at home. It is often used in petty little duels between students. Madame Pomfrey uses the Boil Shrink Potion for their cure. What Miss Granger did was to focus the Boil Hex in such a manner that the boils only appeared on the girl's face. Quite impressive."

"However did she manage it, Severus?" asked Narcissa.

"The child is a voracious reader," explained Snape. "I learned that she has been reading all the textbooks for her classes for the years in advance."

"And you say that this is a friend of Draco's?" smiled Lucius in satisfaction. "I like her."

"And Harry's," Snape added.

"It is unfortunate that she wasn't Sorted into Slytherin," mused Lucius.

Narcissa spoke delicately, "Do you know the reason why Miss Granger jinxed the other girl so... proficiently, Severus?"

"According to the boys, while Harry was trying to comfort a crying Miss Granger, Miss Broodland saw the three friends and called Miss Granger a 'Slytherin whore'."

Narcissa's cup of tea rattled, but Lucius' teacup exploded with his sudden outrage. Narcissa, quite recovered from the vulgar insult, took out her wand and vanished the mess and repaired the broken cup.

"And McGonagall's response?" asked Lucius tightly.

"Minerva did take points from Miss Granger, as she should have," Snape added quickly to cool Lucius' anger, "and then Minerva assigned the little witch a week's worth of detention." Snape gave Lucius a small, smug smile. "I heard Miss Broodland's insult and so I took 25 points. Equally, I awarded the child 35 points for the jinx. As I said, it was quite well done."

"Professor McGonagall was no doubt displeased about that," observed Narcissa.

"Indeed, but it was no matter." Snape and his Gryffindor colleague often argued over points, whether it was a loss or a gain.

Lucius eyed the younger man shrewdly, "Yet you still appear to worry about Miss Granger, Severus, and she isn't even in our House."

"Minerva has unfortunately burdened Miss Granger with the idea that it is her fault that her Housemates dislike her so," Snape shrugged lightly. "Minerva has always believed that all her lions must get along and it is difficult for her to accept that they may unite against one of their own."

"Professor McGonagall comes from a simpler age," Narcissa gently defended the older woman. "It was easier then for a House to unite. We live in difficult times and it's quite evident that all the Houses are suffering."

Lucius nodded in agreement with his wife. "We Slytherins are a wary lot and are accustomed to questioning the motives of all, even those we are allied with. A schism in the House of Gryffindor is like a fatal wound upon an animal."

"They are black and white and cannot exist in the grey areas," added Snape.

"Light and Dark, Narcissa said softly.

"Voldemort and Dumbledore," Lucius added wryly.

Snape winced at Voldemort's name, but he continued, "As Miss Granger is not in my House, there is little I can do and although, of all the staff, Minerva is the one I best get along with, she and I do disagree. Often."

"Miss Granger at least has Draco and Harry," concluded Narcissa.

Snape nodded. "That, and Minerva at least conceded to allow the girl to eat her lunch with her friends. It has been interesting to see how... comfortable Miss Granger appears with some of the other Slytherins."

Lucius caught the underlying implication that there was a reason for only some of the Slytherins accepting Hermione. He pressed this point by asking, "And why wouldn't all of the Slytherins welcome the child, Severus?"

Here Snape paused, studying the cooling surface of his tea. He then glanced over the rim of the teacup at his old friend. "Miss Granger is a Muggle-born."

There was a long silence between both husband and wife as Snape carefully regarded them both.

Abraxas Malfoy had harbored a great hatred for Muggles and the Muggle-born. There had been too many times that he had sickened both young men with vile tales of horrors he had been a part of towards unfortunate Muggles and Muggle-borns.

When Lucius had refused to join his father on one such terrorising raid of a Muggle family Abraxas had not hesitated in putting his own son under the Imperious Curse. Snape, working with his Potions Master on his own mastery, had not been a part of it. He had dealt with the aftermath; Lucius, sick to the point of fever, had been so distressed and ashamed, that he could not bear to return to his own family.

It was inevitable that Lucius soon began parroting his father's beliefs and hardened part of his soul against nearly half of the wizarding world. Snape had expected it. It was the only way for Lucius to survive, to keep his family safe. Even so, there were still nights when Lucius would retreat to Snape's home on Spinner's End to weep, to rail, to drink, and to sleep without nightmares beneath the veil of Dreamless Sleep.

Naricissa Black Malfoy came from a family, all but for her sister Andromeda, and cousin Sirius, that had a heavy prejudice against the Muggles and Muggle-borns. Another sister, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, was a psychotic mad-woman who desired any excuse to hurt someone. Narcissa had managed, with grace, to remain neutral. Snape suspected but did not know for certain but Narcissa comforted her husband as well when his nightmares had him waking with screams.

It was Narcissa who spoke first, "As Miss Granger's parents are Muggles, then, they would not be able to petition for a re-Sorting, would they?"

Snape's eyebrow rose as he took in Narcissa's subtle mien. Her mind was calculating decisively over something. Snape shook his head. "As Miss Granger's parents are Muggles they would have no knowledge of the petition, Narcissa."

Lucius straightened. "Are you aware that it has been done in the past, Severus? The re-Sorting?"

"Truthfully, no, I was not. I have heard of it being done but rarely so. Nor do I understand under what circumstances it would be requested," Snape confessed. Both Malfoys had something up their sleeve, and Snape was quietly eager (although neither Narcissa nor Lucius could see it) to know what it was.

Lucius was more than amenable to educate the educator; in fact, he was somewhat smug about it. "To a Pureblood family, your House is not just something you have for seven years and then leave behind once your NEWTs are complete. A House is status, a symbol, an ally that can aid one in stepping through the Door of Opportunity. As of late what your House was can be used as a source of prejudice." Lucius sneered. He was proud to be a Slytherin and he would never feel ashamed. He continued, "It is no accident that certain Pureblood families are drawn to one House or another. The Weasleys, for example, all Gryffindors as far back as Augustus Weasley in the 17th century on Arthur's side and Elgar Prewitt in the 18th century on Molly's side. As for the Malfoys, we've been Slytherin since the time of the Founders."

Narcissa smiled indulgently at her husband's obvious pride. Snape tried not to scowl. Snape was a half-blood and from his mother's side members of the Prince family didn't start attending Hogwarts until the latter half of the 18th century. They were a scattering of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, with an odd Gryffindor or two despite the strong Darkness of the family and their 'Blood Purity' prejudice.

Lucius went on, "Because of how important a House was to a family, you can imagine the stress it might cause if say a strong Gryffindor family were to find themselves suddenly with a Slytherin. Or, vice versa. A solution was instituted that allowed for the immediate family of the mis-Sorted child to petition for a re-Sorting; hopefully one that was in line with what the Pureblood family desired."

"Sirius Black," Narcissa said so softly that Snape almost hadn't heard her.

Snape turned to Lucius' wife. "Did Sirius' parents ask for a re-Sorting?"

Narcissa nodded. "Aunt Walburga Black was absolutely scandalised by Sirius having been Sorted into Gryffindor. A petition was made, and granted, but the Sorting Hat was adamant, and refused to put Sirius elsewhere." Narcissa smiled sadly. "I believe, that in Sirius' bid to distance himself from the Black family name that he talked the Hat into Gryffindor and it wasn't the Hat that wouldn't re-Sort him, but Sirius himself."

"As fascinating as that history lesson is," Snape paused and calmed the sneer that had appeared in his silken tones. Any mention of any of the Marauders of his childhood had that effect on him. "I do not see how that would help Miss Granger if her parents are unaware of such a petition. There is also the small matter that as Muggles they can neither see Hogwarts nor approach it."

Narcissa had noted Snape's acerbic tone and gave him an admonishing frown. She then smiled at her husband. "One of the few ideas I rather liked that Headmaster Dumbledore tried to institute was a sponsorship program that paired a Muggle-born child with a Pureblood family."

"It was doomed from the start," stated Lucius. "Prejudice against the Muggle-born was growing, and exploded when the Dark Lord arrived on the scene."

"It was too dangerous," Narcissa interjected firmly. "For Pureblood and Muggle-born." She rose to her feet and laid a hand upon her husband's shoulder. "This may not be the time for the program to be revived, husband, but I do think it would be... diplomatic... for our family to sponsor a Muggle Born child."

Lucius blinked slowly. "We are still in dangerous waters, my dear," Lucius spoke carefully.

"Black and white though it may be, Lucius, if we wish not to be dragged down by your father's sin when the Dark Lord returns, we will need to be allied with more than the Savior of the Wizarding World." Narcissa leaned closer to her husband. "We must protect all the children, my love," she cajoled softly.

Lucius lightly kissed his wife's fingertips. The one good thing his father had allowed, was to permit him to wed a witch that he loved. Over and over again, Narcissa had proved to Lucius her worth; in giving him a healthy son, in easing his pain, and in being an intelligent witch with whom he often consulted for her wisdom.

"Shall we begin with Miss Granger, dear wife?" Lucius spoke formally, but there was a gentle tease in his voice.

Narcissa smiled graciously, her ice blue eyes warming with the smile. As she stood, a twinkle touched her eyes. "I think I should like indulging a girl." She cast a quick, wicked glance at Lucius, and he blushed outrageously, choking on the sip of tea he'd taken. While he recovered his demeanor, Narcissa nodded to Snape. "I'm pleased you could visit, Severus. You'll have to excuse me, though, as I have some correspondence I must take care of."

Both men stood. Snape gave Narcissa a courtly bow, and Lucius kissed his wife's cheek, delicately. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed. Once she'd left the parlor, the two wizards resumed their tea.

"Your... beliefs appear to be changing, Lucius," Snape observed smoothly.

Lucius frowned. He put down his tea and summoned his brandy, which he offered to Snape. "I never believed in the wholesale slaughter of Muggles, Severus. To accuse me of that is more than rude, it's thoughtless." His voice held old resentments that weren't all pointed at his younger friend.

Snape agreed to the brandy, and Lucius poured them each a half snifter full. Snape drank a portion of the brandy that he knew would have cost him at least half a years salary. It tasted like it. "We both believed that our worlds should remain separate, Lucius," Snape persisted. "How we chose to voice that belief was our downfall."

Lucius glared at Snape as he perceived insult where there was none. He knew of Snape's Muggle father and he also knew of the grief the drunkard had caused the younger man.

-The Year 1971-

Lucius had been in his seventh year when he'd met the scrawny, poor boy whom many in Slytherin viewed with distaste. Severus Snape was not from a wealthy family, although, it was known that his mother, Eileen Prince had come from wealth, and pureblood. Snape's mother, to nearly her entire family, had defiled herself by falling in love with a Muggle.

Lucius hadn't thought much of the skinny boy. Things were changing in the wizarding world and as a wealthy pureblood, engaged to the daughter of the high ranking Black family, his position in society and politics was secure.

Lord Voldemort, as he was known then, was simply a powerful wizard who preached the complete severing of the Wizarding world from the Muggle world. As Lucius was not a part of the Inner Circle as his father was, he had no clue that Voldemort desired the annihilation of all Muggles and that his hatred of them was so acute, that it had been poisoning his mind for years. Voldemort was going mad and intended to take his followers along with his madness.

To Snape, Lucius Malfoy was an arrogant, snobbish aristocrat who neither deserved his time nor attention. Content with his books and his potions, Snape never gave the man a second thought. Not until they discovered each other in the library one evening.

Lucius Malfoy appeared to be a charming, wealthy, and spoiled wizard, but that did not mean he was without intelligence. Lucius had long held a fascination, not for the Dark Arts, but the Old Magic that had fallen into disuse over the centuries in favor of the more "spectacular" magic.

When Snape was researching the origins of a potion, he was a bit surprised to find the supposed spoiled Malfoy Prince deep in his own research. Lucius had nearly taken over an entire table in the library and was almost hidden by the books, parchment, quill, and ink he had at hand. Lucius was not aware of the first year boy's arrival until he sensed someone staring at him. When he looked up, his gaze was caught by the unwavering gaze of fathomless black eyes. Those eyes unnerved him. Thy looked like they belonged to a man three times the boy's age.

"Have I taken your study space, Snape?" drawled Lucius, teasingly.

Snape blinked once, "Not at all. I was just surprised to see you in the library, much less studying."

Lucius watched as the eyes of the boy stole over his books and he smirked. "Not the scholarly type, am I? Maybe if I didn't wash my hair, or broke my nose, hm?"

Snape scowled darkly and drew back like a turtle behind the curtains of his unfortunately oily hair. He did not deign to answer, and was contemplating leaving, but he had read the titles of some of Malfoy's books and he was intrigued.

"Oh stop that!" chided Lucius with a slight smile. "You really are too sensitive, Snape. And, I know the Marauders broke your nose, so don't be so shy about it." Lucius used his wand to pull a chair closer. "Sit down, Snape."

The skinny boy hesitated, then did so. "How do you know they broke it?" asked Snape.

"Cissy was in the Infirmary visiting Annelise Moss when you came in. Seems Apprentice Pomfrey made quite a fuss and was rather disgusted when the Headmaster chuckled at the 'prank'." Lucius leaned forward, his eyes clearly upon Snape's poor broken nose. "It's been broken before, hasn't it? There's only so many times the fragile bones and cartilage in a nose can be magically repaired."

"You sound like a Healer," accused Snape.

"Anatomy was a fascinating subject for a time and I indulged myself in quite a few books that had Healing magic in them," elaborated Lucius. "Were you aware that the Healing Magic that a witch or wizard learns is still one of the oldest magics we use? Hippocrates invented many spells including the practice of drawing upon the elements for help in strengthening spells that once drew directly upon the magical core of the injured."

"I didn't know that," said Snape. "Is that why you're reading about Elemental Magic?"

"It's really quite brilliant," smiled Lucius, all teasing gone from his voice as he shoved one book over to the smaller boy. "Baggins History on Earth Magic. I think it must be the definitive work on that particular Element."

Snape opened the book and found it to be handwritten, not typeset. It was rather a beautiful book that the author had illustrated with quaint drawings of animals, landscapes, and images of magical people. He then realised that the book was written in a language he couldn't read.

"You can read this?" asked Snape incredulously.

Lucius leaned forward and tapped the book with his wand, "Reddo mortuus lingua!"

Snape watched as the odd letters shifted until they morphed into words he could read. "Wicked!"

"It lasts about an hour, unfortunately," sighed Lucius. "I've been thinking that if I draw a particular rune instead of just tapping my wand against the text, I can make it last longer."

"You've taken Ancient Runes?" asked Snape. His perception of the spoiled aristocrat was shattering beautifully.

"I did. Professor Fehring believes himself to always be right despite being wrong at times. I'm better off studying on my own. I think Rune magic needs to be incorporated more into serious magic," commented Lucius.

"My mother used Rune magic with Potions," stated Snape. "I was hoping I'd learn more of that here, but Slughorn seems to prefer the more modern aspects of potion making."

"Slughorn's an idiot," declared Lucius with a sneer. "Rune magic is an old, powerful magic and your mother is smart to teach it to you, Snape."

Snape shook his head woefully. "It is far too risky for my mother to teach me runes."

Lucius frowned. "And why would that be?"

Snape stared up at the aristocrat warily. He would not be duped into giving the older boy ammunition that could be used against him. When he saw the earnestness in the older boy's question, he spoke softly, "My father has forbidden it. He is... he is..."

"Muggle," stated Lucius. "I know, Snape. From what I've been told, he's a drunkard, too."

Snape's anger flared and Lucius shook his head. "The truth hurts, Snape, but we must accept it and move on." Snape gave the older boy a puzzled glance. "I can teach you, then, Snape. At least until your fifth year when you can take Ancient Runes. Of course, if 'Auld Fenny' is still teaching that class you had better write to me on a regular basis."

Snape looked up abruptly into the grey eyes of the Malfoy heir. He said nothing, but Lucius smiled as he could see the gratitude in the young boy's dark eyes. He then smirked, "But first, we need to find a good potion to take care of that hair of yours!"

Snape smirked and with a sharp toss of his head, moved a portion of his hair out of his face.

"I meant," soothed Snape, "that we chose to allow others to think for us when we knew better."

Lucius nodded. "Too true. Had I known my father was as mad as the Dark Lord..."

"You had better not be preparing an apology, or repeating an old regret, Lucius," warned Snape. "We spoke of this years ago. What is done is done. All we can do now is make certain that when He does return that He has made the biggest mistake of His existence."

Both men touched the Dark Marks that had been burned into their forearms by the cruel hand of the Dark Lord himself.

"You still worry that Voldemort will return?" asked Lucius warily.

Snape scowled at the older wizard. "As do you, Lucius. It wasn't long ago that you woke feeling the same burn that I did." Lucius did not reply, retreating to the remainder of his brandy. Snape spoke angrily, "As long as the old man believes it, I will worry, Lucius. I have long held the belief that there was more to that damned prophecy than what I overheard."

"You don't believe in prophecies!" scoffed Lucius.

"I certainly do not. Unfortunately, there are wizards that do and it is them I am concerned with." Without asking, Snape summoned the brandy and refilled his glass.

"And their belief was more than enough to damage lives, wasn't it, Severus?" Lucius' look was calculating, studying his friend's reaction since Snape rarely spoke of Lily, and certainly never mentioned her death.

Snape eyed his friend narrowly as his lips thinned tightly. His voice was as taut as the emotions he'd beaten back so long ago, "More than enough," he agreed. "But I have the feeling, that if I do not do something, that prophecy will be to the ruin of Harry Potter, as well."

"Ahhh," mused Lucius knowingly. "And how might that be, Severus?"

Snape paused a moment. He had come with the intention of asking a favour of Lucius, but a cautious nature borne out of habit and childhood experience kept the Potions Master from being completely open. Snape was uneasy about being beholden to Malfoy senior. Only Abraxas' untimely death had allowed Snape the freedom he desired to ask for help from Albus Dumbledore. One bond had been broken only to be replaced by one more difficult to bear.

For now, he would only speak of Potter. He would not mention the artifact that Dumbledore had brought into the castle. Not yet, at least. "As you know, Potter did not make it on time to Hogwarts."

Lucius nodded. "An accident, you said," as he recalled the afternoon he'd gone to visit his son and found him playing with Harry Potter in the Infirmary. "Am I to believe it was something more?"

"It was, and is," nodded Snape. "Dumbledore placed the child with the family of his aunt. Petunia was Lily's older sister and even before the mention of magic, Petunia was not always... kind... to her youngest sister. Once Petunia learned that Lily was a witch, any bond the two sisters might have been able to forge, was lost."

"The aunt was not pleased to have the responsibility of her sister's magical offspring," deduced Lucius.

Snape's mouth was grim. "She was not. Petunia, her husband Vernon, and son, Dudley, have abused the boy for years." Now it was Lucius' turn to look grim. He poured each of them another brandy as Snape continued, "I was charged by Dumbledore to find out why the boy didn't make it to school. What I found was... deplorable. Potter had been beaten and bloodied and shoved into a cupboard. Pomfrey's diagnostic showed older beatings, and broken bones, and severe, ongoing, malnutrition."

"Potter did appear quite small when I saw him."

"He is flesh and sinew!" snapped Snape. He took a long sip of the brandy and then a deep breath. "I can still count each and every one of that child's ribs." Lucius was suitably appalled. "Foolishly, I had expected Dumbledore to do the right thing by the boy when this school term was completed and to find him a new home. A proper, wizarding home. However, that barmy old coot is going to send Harry back! He claims that the Blood Wards are of utmost importance!" he spat.

Lucius noted, shrewdly, Snape's unintended use of the child's first name. "I'm not that well-versed in Blood Wards," Lucius interjected.

"I spoke with Minerva who knows a bit more about Blood Wards and according to what she said, and I was able to verify this with some further research, unless the person the Blood Wards are protecting feels the place is 'home' and that there is love, they are useless."

"They are certainly useless against the very same Muggles who are supposed to be protecting the boy," agreed Lucius.

"Indeed," Snape nodded with a scowl. "Harry's uncle burned all his school items and would have killed the child's owl, as well, but Hedwig is a smart bird and escaped," added Snape, still not entirely aware that he'd stopped referring to Harry by his last name.

"What would you have me do, Severus?" Lucius asked benevolently.

Snape stared at the older wizard. "Harry must not return to those relatives, Lucius. My hands are tied, though. If I try to go against Dumbledore, he may choose to send me straight back to Azkaban."

Lucius waved that worry off. "He can do no such thing..."

Snape angrily interrupted Lucius, "Dumbledore has evidence...!"

"Which is inadmissible after Dumbledore gave evidence on your behalf!" Lucius declared loudly. "Our judicial system leaves much to be desired, Severus, and is, most certainly, rather flawed in many places, but this I do know; once Dumbledore has given evidence and testified upon your behalf, he cannot go back on that testimony and evidence without implicating himself in your crimes. Or, any crimes you might have committed since your exoneration. Have you been criminal?" asked Lucius with a slight taunt to his voice.

"Of course not!" snapped the Potions Master in irritation. He slumped in his chair and finished his brandy in one gulp. There were many things he knew, but the law, the judicial system of the Wizarding world, was not one of them. Among the many things that Lucius had made a study of, he did know the judicial system. He would not have been able to escape incarceration at Azkaban without such knowledge. Politics, the law, and diplomacy; these were the disciplines that Abraxas Malfoy had drilled into his son's head.

It had never occurred to Snape that Dumbledore had sealed his own fate the day he gave evidence and testimony as to Snape's innocence, and his own place in the war against Voldemort as a spy.

"Then, I am no longer obligated to Dumbledore?" asked Snape in disbelief.

"No more than any of his other employees are," shrugged Lucius. "Of course, if an employer is perpetuating and covering up the abuse of a magical child by Muggles, he is obligated to report such behaviour."

"Would not that employee's job be in jeopardy?" asked Snape.

"Only if there weren't enough evidence to support the employee's assertions. I would counsel anyone asking my advice to wait and to be vigilant. An employer that risks the life of one child, may be risking the lives of others. Is he?" Lucius' tone of voice was quiet, but the look in his grey eyes was hard, and demanding.

Snape was a bit chilled by that look. He knew of the artifact sitting within the bowels of the castle that he and the others had helped the Headmaster to protect. They had all voiced their concerns and had been 'happily' told 'not to worry'. Had Lucius somehow made the connection between the robbery at Gringotts to... no. He couldn't have.

Lucius poured them each a last, small measure of brandy before closing it and replacing it upon the table. "Through some discreet inquiries, I discovered that the vault that was robbed belonged to Nicholas Flamel. It is interesting to note, that Flamel has not visited his own vault in over five centuries."

"Flamel hasn't been seen by the wizarding world in five centuries," stated Snape.

"Indeed, that is true, Severus." Lucius gave the younger man an insincere smile. "I also discovered that in the last year, Albus Dumbledore was made the legal custodian of that vault. And then, it was robbed. Curious, isn't it?"

"Curious, yes," Snape echoed cautiously.

Lucius finished the last of his brandy and vanished the snifter to the kitchen for cleaning. He leaned forward and pinned Snape with his gaze, "What did Dumbledore bring to Hogwarts, Severus? What foolish plan has that old coot bullied his employees into helping him keep secret? And why, why have none of you said anything?"

Snape rarely squirmed under anyone's scrutiny these days. He knew his magic was exceptional, and he also knew that he intimidated, and could frighten, the most diabolical of Death Eaters. There were a few times Lucius felt intimidated by Snape, but it was no more often than those times Lucius turned the tables and intimidated him.

Lucius might not know what exactly Dumbledore had brought to the castle, but he knew that it had belonged to Nicholas Flamel, the ancient alchemist, and therefore Lucius assumed it was dangerous. That was more knowledge than Snape himself had of the artifact.

Snape's fingers drummed nervously on the arm of his chair as he composed his ruffled emotions. Once they were back in place, the drumming of his fingers stopped and he returned Lucius gaze with one of his own. His depthless, dark eyes gave away nothing. For a very brief moment, Lucius wondered if he had made too many assumptions. He did not give away his thoughts, though, and waited until Snape spoke.

"We… I... do not know what it is. Until you said so, I was not even aware that the vault supposedly robbed belonged to Flamel. Dumbledore has made assurances that the object itself is not a danger to anyone, and he enlisted our help to protect it." At Lucius' perceived objection, Snape held up his hand. "All of us voiced our objections in order to get the Headmaster to tell us his plans." His dark gaze then became like steel in which he pierced Lucius. He then bit out, "Those of us that know of an artifact in Hogwarts have all made Unbreakable Vows to Albus Dumbledore as members of the Order of the Phoenix." Severus then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He then opened his eyes and spoke softly, "The most I have been able to... speculate... is that Dumbledore suspects that one of us desires the object."

Lucius blinked in surprise. "You?"

Snape irritably shook his head. "No. The Headmaster has twice reminded me of my obligation to Lily, and in no uncertain terms, when the need arises, he reminds me of my debt to him." Snape's expression soured at the memory of that old reminder.

Of the five that the Headmaster had enlisted to help protect The Artifact (as Flitwick had dubbed it) Snape had been the most vocal in his objection of even allowing the artifact in the school.

-Before the 1991 Hogwarts Term Begins-

"You have had us construct a puzzler's nightmare, Headmaster, for an unknown artifact..."

Albus interrupted as he cleaned his spectacles. "There is no need to tell you what it is, Severus."

"That is not my concern!" snapped Snape. "It is clear to me that you have brought an artifact into the school that might be a danger to the children! How do you expect us to keep whoever it is from stealing the artifact and protecting a school full of children?"

"There is no danger, Severus," the Headmaster spoke coolly. "It is well protected, and even if someone should try to steal the artifact and make it through all the obstacles, they still will not be able to possess it."

Snape's gaze darkened at the tranquil expression on the Headmaster's face. His watery blue eyes twinkled with assured madness. Stiffening his spine and his resolution, Snape spoke, "And what of the children, Headmaster? It would take a powerful wizard to break through all of our puzzles. You are putting the children at risk in order to trap one of us!"

"Not you, my boy." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes vanished, and for the briefest of moments, Snape wondered if he'd gone too far in his chastisement of his employer. "We shall speak no more of this, Severus. As I trust in you to keep Harry Potter safe, I expect you to have trust in me to keep the school safe."

With a shuffling of the papers on his desk, Dumbledore dismissed Snape. The Potions Master rose to his feet, drawing the volume of his robes close around his person. Without a look at the Headmaster, he strode across the office to the door. Just as he opened it, Dumbledore stopped him.

"Severus?" Reluctantly Snape turned to regard the old wizard. The twinkle was most certainly gone, and there was a hard edge to the old wizard's expression that spoke of his years, and his power. Snape's shoulders slumped a tiny bit. "Do not forget, my boy, I trust you. Implicitly."

As it had always been for him, Albus Dumbledore's declaration of trust was not the assurance of confidence that others heard when the Headmaster used that phrase. For Snape, it was an uncomfortable reminder that he had traded one master for another.

Now that he knew Dumbledore had no hold over him, especially legally, it sickened him.

Lucius watched as Snape's sallow colouring dropped so quickly to white, he was immediately concerned for the young man's health. Practically leaping to his feet he caught the younger wizard by his upper arms and prevented him from slipping, bonelessly, off the chair in an undignified heap upon the floor. Intuitively diagnosing the problem, the elder Malfoy summoned a Calming Potion and helped Snape drink it down.

As a warmer cast washed the Potions Master's cheeks, Snape gritted his teeth before leaning forward and catching his woozy head in his hands.

"That... bas... he lied to me!" groaned Snape. He raised his head and Lucius was pleased to see the return of his imperiously cool friend.

"I know you shall keep up the charade, Severus; never let your Occlumency shields down around him. I shall make inquiries on behalf of Mr. Potter. He will not return to those Muggles.

Snape nodded sharply in gratitude to his friend. He knew, of course, that he must remain Dumbledore's 'servant' until Harry's safety was assured.

"I must ask again, though, Severus. Your answer, although concise, was not the one I was seeking. What do you wish me to do... for you?" Lucius' fingers had formed a triangle over his abdomen as he re-seated himself. He was the picture of aristocratic superiority, and for a moment Snape bristled at the image.

Lucius knew that he was projecting the persona that most irritated his friend, but he felt it was necessary. It was time for Severus to realise that he had allies other than that manipulating, old, man. Allies that had a much better understanding of what 'sacrifice' meant than an elderly wizard who fought by sacrificing others in his place.

Snape had a sudden vision of Harry's drawing that he'd taken from the boy's cupboard. He recalled how Harry smiled, at him, when he visited him in the Infirmary. He remembered the look of joy no one else in the castle had seen as Harry had looked to him right after his Sorting. In the drawing, crayon-Harry stood beside crayon-Snape, assured in the safety the wizard offered him. To protect him from, not just his enemies, but from well-meaning, manipulative, old wizards.

For the moment, Snape was the Dark Man of Harry's dreams. His saviour. And, in that moment Snape realised something that he did want. He wanted to be more than a rescuer, more than the Dark Man, he wanted…

"I can give him what his relatives did not," Snape spoke in humble tones he'd never thought to hear come from himself. "I want to give Harry a family."

Lucius smiled. A warm smile, that although touched with a bit of triumph, it was triumph in that Lucius was pleased that Snape discovered he could truly trust his old friend.

"It shall be done, my friend," Lucius assured him.

Even though Snape's own smile was grim, he was a pessimist after all, he knew that Lucius spoke the truth.


Lucius escorted his friend to the door of Malfoy Manor. He was pleased at what had been accomplished over the tea. Before the younger man stepped through the door, he stopped him by lightly placing his hand upon Snape's shoulder.

Snape turned to regard the hard look behind Lucius Malfoy's genial smile. "I know that you miss nothing, my friend. Watch Dumbledore. As Narcissa says, we must protect the children. They are our future. Do not allow a foolish, old man to harm them."

Snape merely nodded his agreement. Then, he stepped out of the door, turned on the spot, and vanished.

23 Sept 1991 - Monday

Albus Dumbledore's first (unpleasant) surprise arrived at breakfast on Monday morning. A great eagle owl, the beast owned by Lucius Malfoy, dropped a letter off from Narcissa to her son, and a second letter from Lucius. The owl continued to soar up to the staff table. A very official parchment scroll was unceremoniously dropped into the Headmaster's oatmeal. The great owl then perched, quite imperiously, upon the back of Dumbledore's chair. With a loud screech that deafened all chatter in the Great Hall, the bird shook out its feathers, and contentedly tucked its head under its wing and appeared to fall right to sleep.

The Headmaster refused to read the scroll at breakfast, but disturbed by the owl, his appetite was ruined, and so he retreated to his office.

Draco, meanwhile, was staring in apprehension at the two letters from his parents. They were in red envelopes.

"Those are Howlers," explained Teddy Nott nervously.

Tara leaned over and patted Draco's arm. "It's best to get it over with quickly, Draco." She gave him a sympathetic look.

Draco tapped the first one from his father and it jumped up into the air in front of his face. His father's voice, heavy and full of disapproval, came from the Howler.

"Three detentions, Draco? The term has hardly begun! Do you realise the shame you are bringing down not only upon yourself but the Family name? Your temper will be the death of you, Dragon, if you don't start shaping up, and now! Recall what I told you when you left for school. You are eleven years old. Do not lead me to believe that you are five or I shall come to Hogwarts and remind you, clearly, just how I punished you at five."

The Howler exploded and Draco, his cheeks red, his mouth gaping, sat stiffly and nearly in shock.

Tara gave the little boy a small pat on the back. A second hand, Harry's, joined Tara's in the comfort. "Come on, now. Finish the second one," urged the prefect gently.

Draco swallowed. He stared at the second red envelope. Harry leaned over. "Just open it, Draco. It can't be any worse than the first."

Draco cast Harry a quick stricken look before he tapped the Howler that was from his mother. It flew up, opened, and also began to speak but with Narcissa's voice.

"Draco. I am so terribly disappointed in you." Her voice was soft, but it was so sad that Draco let out a sniffle. "Your father and I will be coming this weekend to visit. Do behave. I love you, dear." The Howler burst into confetti and Draco suddenly dropped his head onto his arms.

Tara continued to pat his back while Harry looked on with sympathy.

"Mr. Malfoy," came a soft, velvet voice behind the children. Snape had appeared silently behind them. Draco lifted his head, doing his best to keep anyone near from seeing his tears. "Come with me."

As the boy got up, Snape felt a hesitant touch to his arm. Glancing towards the right of Draco he could see Harry looking up worriedly. The boy's green eyes were pleading with him not to punish his upset friend any further. "I merely require your friend's assistance, Mr. Potter. You will see him in your first class."

Harry nodded with relief. He then watched as Snape, with Draco in front of him, took the boy out of the Great Hall.

Once out of the Great Hall, Snape directed the boy to walk beside him. He shortened his pace so Draco would be able to keep up. Draco did not say anything, but Snape could still hear faint sniffles and saw the child wiping at his eyes.

"I believe I mentioned to you that there is something I can teach you to help you better control your temper, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir. You did," answered the very sad, little voice.

Snape put his hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "It is a mental discipline called Occlumency that I think would benefit Mr. Potter as well. Would you be averse to sharing the time with him in learning this skill?"

Draco shook his head first, then replied vocally, "No, sir. I wouldn't mind learning Occul... Occumen..." his voice faded.

"Occ-lu-men-cy," Snape pronounced the word for the boy. "I shall send you and Mr. Potter a schedule." They walked in silence for a few more minutes and at one point, Snape conjured a handkerchief for Draco. They went a bit more and then the Head of Slytherin House stopped. "Draco." Draco turned to face his teacher and Snape was pleased to see that the crying had stopped. "Your father will be proud of you if you learn this."

Draco managed a small smile. "I know he will, sir. I'm just... well... will Harry's family be proud of him, too?"

Snape's lips thinned at the thought of the Dursleys. "Harry's relatives unfortunately do not realise the gift they have in their nephew. I believe it is up to us to be proud of Harry, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's smile widened as he nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe so, too."

Placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, he turned Draco around to face the classroom of his first class of the day. Feeling much better, Draco gave his teacher a wave goodbye and walked into the classroom where he saw Hermione and Harry waiting for him. It wasn't until much later that he wondered what path he and his Head of House had taken to the classroom that allowed Harry and Hermione to get to it first!


24 Sept 1991 - Tuesday

Hermione had awakened in a bed of slime. Rising early from the ghastly mess, she had choked back her tears so no one would benefit from any sort of reaction, and cleaned her bed with the Scourgify spell that Professor Flitwick had taught her after she requested that he teach it to her. Hermione was glad that she'd wakened so early and her dorm mates, who had no doubt pulled the vile prank, were still asleep. She snuck into the girls bathroom and was able to put her filthy nightgown into the laundry and wash the gunk from her hair. To her dismay, the moment the water touched her hair, it changed from her mousy brown, impossible curls to dull, absolutely straight, black hair.

"Oh no!" she cried under her breath as she looked at a lock of the changed hair under the water. "It looks like Snape's!"

Hermione could only wash herself and the hair. She didn't know enough magic to change it, so she knew she would have to endure more teasing from her cruel House mates and probably from the other Houses as well. Worse, when Professor Snape saw her hair, he might think she was mocking him.

It was going to be an awful day.

Hermione had escaped seeing anyone in the common room and once she left Gryffindor Tower, she practically ran to Professor McGonagall's office. She knocked several times, but it was obviously too early. Giving up, she decided that today she'd just not attend any classes at all. She then ran the entire way down to the Entrance Hall. She started in surprise when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hermione?"

Hermione came to a full stop and spun around. Harry was in the Entrance Hall. He was staring at her hair.

"Who did it?" he asked as he walked closer.

Hermione was proud of herself for not breaking down into tears as she replied, "My dorm mates. They filled my sheets with slime and whatever it was, once the water touched it, it changed to this." Her voice cracked. She took a moment to compose herself. She would NOT cry. "Professor Snape is going to be so angry at me, Harry!"

Harry grabbed her hand. "No he won't. C'mon!"

Harry led his friend down into the dungeons and to the door of the Slytherin common room. He had her wait while he disappeared inside. Hermione stepped back into the shadows and allowed her eyes to jerk back and forth hoping the Potions professor wouldn't show up.

A few minutes later Harry emerged with Prefect Tara Anglaise and behind her was Draco. Draco just gaped at Hermione while Tara studied the problem.

"Finite incatatem!" she cast as she waved her wand. Nothing happened. She tried a few more spells, including a glamour, but whatever had caused Hermione's hair to change colour was resisting all of Tara's attempts.

After almost twenty minutes, Draco griped at the prefect, "You're a seventh year!"

Tara glared down at the short firstie. "If I had time to study whatever did this, Mr. Malfoy, I'd be able to come up with a solution."

Hermione's tears threatened again. "I don't know how long this will last!"

Tara patted Hermione on the back. "We'll go to the professor. At the very least, if he can't do anything, he'll know this wasn't your fault and won't get mad at you."

A small sniffle did escape as Hermione nodded her agreement. As Tara led the way to Snape's office, Harry and Draco walked on either side of the girl.

Draco whispered to Harry, "Where were you?"


Snape was just preparing to leave for a staff meeting when the knock came on his office door. He eyed Prefect Anglaise who motioned the distraught girl to come out from behind her.

"It wasn't her fault, sir," declared Harry before Snape even had time to react.

Snape rose to his feet and walked around his desk to stare down upon the Gryffindor. His gaze went to Harry. "I had surmised that, Mr. Potter." He returned his gaze to Hermione. "What can you tell me about this, Miss Granger?"

Hermione told her story and then Tara told her teacher what spells she had tried to reverse the problem.

"I believe it was not a spell that did this," Snape said as he took a strand of Hermione's changed hair between his thumb and index finger. "Some sort of potion. Unfortunately, without a sample of the 'slime' I am unable to brew a counter potion."

Hermione put her hand into her robe pocket and pulled out a small phial. She handed it to Snape.

"You took a sample, Miss Granger?" he asked with almost concealed surprise.

"I thought it might be a good idea, sir," she replied with an effacing shrug.

"Indeed it was," he nodded. Hermione beamed brightly. "Miss Anglaise, please go to Professor McGonagall in the staff lounge and let her know that Miss Granger was pranked, once again, and I am brewing an antidote. Miss Granger will take her breakfast in my office with her friends." The Potions Master felt this problem would be more ideal to solve than sitting through a boring staff meeting.

"I'll do that, sir." Tara then smiled and squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "You'll be right as rain, soon, Hermione."

The three children thanked Tara. When she left the office, Snape summoned an elf and ordered breakfast for all of them. Once they were done, he ushered the children into the classroom lab and had them help him to analyse the slime and then brew an antidote.

Hermione's hair was back to its normal bushy, brown colour before Snape had his first class of the day.

It was going to be a good day.


25 Sept 1991 - Wednesday

Draco woke at seven in the morning, and just as Harry's bed was neatly made yesterday, it was so again. Draco frowned at it. What was going on? Where was Harry?

Shrugging the mystery off as one he couldn't solve this second, Draco slid from bed and went into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. A half hour later, he finished getting dressed, smoothed the covers on his bed, and ran out of the dorm.

Draco was just about to head into the Great Hall when he saw Harry pushing through the tall, oak doors into the Entrance Hall.

"Harry! Where were you?" Draco ran over to the boy who looked as though he hadn't had a good night's sleep.

Harry smiled gamely as he met his friend. "I was just taking a walk."

Draco frowned. "Bit early for that." He peered at Harry. "I know you went to bed last night, but did you get any sleep?"

Harry hesitated. It was natural for him to do so. Nobody had ever asked after him, and certainly nobody ever cared enough to know what he was thinking or feeling. But, Draco was his friend, right? Friends cared. They wanted to know if you were feeling all right or not. Harry knew that if something were wrong with Draco he'd want to know so he could help.

"Sort of," he hedged cautiously.

"Nightmares again?" asked Draco softly, as though it were a big secret.

"Yeah..." Harry stopped as they entered the Great Hall and made their way to the Slytherin table.

There were pitchers of juice and milk and teapots with hot water. Food wasn't served, yet, as it wasn't quite 8:15 in the morning. Harry poured some milk and Draco had some as well.

"So?" asked Draco, after he took a big swallow of his cold milk. For a brief second he sported a milk mustache until he wiped it off with his sleeve. "Same stuff you've been dreaming about or something else?"

"Something else," Harry said quickly, trying to dismiss any further talk about his nightmares.

Draco did continue to talk about nightmares, but instead he told Harry about one of his. "When I was five I kept having this terrible nightmare about these really scary guys in black robes and silver masks. They were coming to take me away, but my father was there and he was killing them with all sorts of spells. Only thing is, everytime he killed one, another would appear." Draco's voice dropped to a hush. "Then, the nightmare would really get awful because they weren't after me anymore, they were after my father. And... and... they'd get him." Draco shuddered at the memory of the nightmare.

Harry had been listening intently and was horrified by the dream. "So what happened? Did you wake up?"

Breakfast appeared and for a moment the nightmares were forgotten as the two boys prepared their oatmeal. Draco liked honey, so he had fun pouring the honey in a thin stream all over the oatmeal's surface in intricate little patterns. Harry liked butter and maple sugar so he stirred in a pat of butter and then added a spoonful of the maple sugar. After a few bites, their conversation resumed.

"Don't tell anyone, but I screamed really loudly," Draco replied.

"Did you cry, too?" asked Harry sympathetically.

"Oh yeah. I was a mess but my father came and... well, he'd do what fathers do." Draco looked up to see that Harry was frowning in puzzlement and was about to ask, what did fathers do? "You know. Like when Professor Snape helps you with your nightmares? That sort of stuff."

Harry seemed genuinely surprised by this information. "Your dad would hold you... and...?"

"Yeah, cause that's what fathers are supposed to do," Draco insisted firmly. "I think mums probably do that for girls. Father would hug me and tell me that the bad guys couldn't get to me because the wards around Malfoy Manor were really strong." Draco's voice again dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Want to know what's really scary?"

Harry didn't, but his head had other ideas and nodded in the affirmative.

"They were Death Eaters."

"Those sound terrible, Draco!" gasped Harry.

"What are Death Eaters?" Harry had the same question on the tip of his tongue, but Hermione, who had arrived early for breakfast, sat down beside Harry and dropped her heavy book bag onto the floor. She planned to move back to the Gryffindor table when breakfast officially began. "So? What are they?"

"You-Know-Who's followers," chimed in Marcus Flint. Draco and Harry both shot the smart aleck seventh year matching scowls. "Dear old daddy was one and he pleaded the Imperious didn't he, baby Malfoy? What a bleedin' coward!"

"Shut up, Flint!" Harry yelled sharply.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as inwardly he tried to tell his temper not to do anything.

"Awwww, the ickle baby's gonna cry," Flint continued nastily as he ignored Harry.

"Flint! Leave him alone!" ordered Tara who had no idea what was going on since she just arrived. She could see Flint looming over Draco who seemed hunched in upon himself. Hermione was standing firmly between Harry and Flint.

"Zip it, bitch!" growled Flint towards Tara though he did not take his hungry eyes from Draco. "C'mon, baby Malfoy. Give up those tears now!" His laugh grated over them all.

Draco's fists clenched tightly and his breathing became shallow. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder, and that small bit of compassion was nearly his undoing. Just as he thought he was going to lose, and to cry in front of Flint…

"AWK!" Flint let out a strangled shout as he felt someone, very strong, grasp the back of his collar and yank it. He coughed from the brief choking sensation, and was about to give his attacker a few boils with the Boils Hex when he realised the person he'd just pulled his wand upon was a very angry, stormy-eyed Head of Slytherin House.

"Oh shite!" gasped Flint as he tumbled backwards into Harry, Hermione, and Draco.

Draco had opened his eyes in surprise, and seeing a perfect target, Flint's ear, the boy grabbed the sensitive lobe of the ear, and with a tight-lipped scowl upon his face, twisted as hard as he could.

Flint let out another yell and before he could hex the boy he'd been teasing, Snape's voice countered, "Accio Flint's wand!" The wand flew from Flint's hand and slapped firmly into Snape's empty hand.

"Get up, Mr. Flint!" ordered the professor.

Marcus Flint scrambled to his feet without any help from anyone. Although he was almost as tall as his Head of House, he still felt small. To compensate, he tried to sneer imposingly at his teacher.

It didn't work.

"Go to my office, Mr. Flint." His gaze was dark, and cold, and Snape was very angry.

"But I haven't had my breakfast, yet!" he whined.

That was a mistake and the boy instantly knew it. "Do I look like I care about your breakfast?" sneered Snape.

Flint shook his head, and before he could make things worse for himself, he shouldered his way past Tara and jogged out of the Great Hall.

Snape leaned over Draco who had dropped his head so he was eyeing the surface of the table. He touched two fingers to the child's chin, and gave him a small smile as Draco looked up. Draco returned the smile wearily as he saw the warmth and concern in his teacher's eyes.

Snape spoke so only those around Draco could hear. "You did very well, Mr. Malfoy. I am pleased that you did not retaliate. Ten points." Snape straightened and then turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you are welcome, again, to eat here at breakfast. I have spoken to Professor McGonagall, and she agrees with me that we must be an example to the other Houses in promoting House Unity. I believe you ought to invite Mr. and Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom to share in this venture."

Hermione beamed. "Oh! I will, Professor! Thank you." Hermione trotted over to the Gryffindor table where the Twins and Neville were just seating themselves at the end. She bent over to speak to them, and moment later the four Gryffindors made their way to the Slytherin table.

Fred sat next to Tara Anglaise and grinned at her. For a third year he was quite a tall boy. "Fancy younger men, my lady?"

"As tempting is your offer, Mr. Weasley, I am bespoke for all ready," she lifted her hand to show a silver ring that ended with the head of a serpent that held an emerald in its mouth.

Fred smiled then held his hand over his heart. "My heart breaks, lovely lady. Your betrothed is a lucky wizard."

Tara simply smiled, and then tapped the spot between herself and Harry. "Please sit here, Neville."

Neville smiled shyly, and then sat himself down. "Hi, Harry."

"Hi, Nev," Harry smiled back.

Tara tapped the table. "Seven bowls of oatmeal, please," she asked. Moments later seven bowls of oatmeal appeared before herself and the other Slytherins and their guests. Playing mother, Tara poured milk or juice, and made sure that everything from fruit to maple sugar to butter was available.

They all ate in companionable silence until Tara left when she was finished.

When the friends were alone, Draco said softly, "My father wasn't a coward."

Fred and George listened carefully. "What was Flint talking about?" Harry asked gently.

Draco stirred his spoon idly in his oatmeal, but didn't eat any of it. "I don't want to talk about it here," he finally said. He glanced up at Fred and George. "Sorry, guys."

George patted Draco's head, and the blonde jerked away from the affectation. "Gred and I have to get ready for Charms." George took no offence and only grinned at Draco who finally relented and gave the twins a smirk as he smoothed his hair.

Hermione let out a gasp. "We have to get to Potions! Hurry everyone!" she urged.

Harry patted Draco's back and Hermione nudged his arm as she held up his bookbag.


Right before lunch the trio of friends went outside to sit on the bank of the lake. It wasn't, yet, too cold, so the giant squid was showing a tentacle or three languidly every now and then.

The three sat in companionable silence until Draco began talking softly.

"My grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, was a really bad man. I think he was probably as insane as Aunt Bellatrix is. Anyway, my grandfather was a follower of You-Know-Who." Draco glanced up worriedly at Harry. Everyone knew that it was Voldemort that had killed Harry's parents and Draco was a bit worried that Harry might think he was evil, too.

"Did your grandfather know about my parents?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco nodded miserably. "I don't know for sure, but he probably did. He was really close to the Dark... I mean to You-Know-Who and everyone says that those wizards and witches did some really horrible things." Draco swiped his arm at an errant tear and Hermione took his other hand in hers, offering what little comfort she could.

"Flint said your dad was a... a... Death Eater?" asked Harry warily.

"Yeah, but he never wanted to be!" Draco blurted quickly. "Father had to do what grandfather said to do or grandfather would use one of the Unforgivables on him."

Hermione nodded knowingly, "Your father was part of the Death Eaters Tribunal."

Draco hung his head in shame. Harry asked, "What's the Death Eaters Tribunal?"

Hermione sighed. "I read about some of it in Hogwarts: A History, but I found out more in Babbage's History of the Wizangamot. It was a huge trial of all the followers of Voldemort, and some of them were Death Eaters." Hermione had looked up the Death Eaters for a bit of a refresher during their History class as Professor Binns droned on about some goblin war. "Death Eaters had this Mark that Voldemort put on all his closest and most loyal followers. The trials were to figure out how many followers were actually loyal because Voldemort..."

"Quit saying his name, Hermione!" snapped Draco who had been wincing each time she spoke the dark wizard's name.

"Sorry, Draco. Anyway," she continued, "You-Know-Who used the Imperious Curse a lot on those followers who wouldn't do what he wanted them to do. There were a lot of Death Eaters who claimed they were Imperious'd."

"Well, a lot of them lied!" Draco huffed defensively. "My father didn't! But it's because he's a Malfoy and my grandfather ruined our honor that everybody thinks my father's a liar and a... a..." he stuttered as he looked up at his friends in horror.

"A what?" asked Harry, almost demanding.

"A m-m-m-Muggle killer!" Draco turned away as he felt Hermione's comforting hand slip from his. To his surprise, Hermione was soon engulfing him in a hug, and a few seconds later, Harry was hugging them both.

Draco sighed in relief. His friends understood.


-You-Know-Who-

Harry, Draco, and Hermione were just in time to flow into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with all the other students. Draco started to go towards the seats at the front of the class where they sat last week, but Harry urged him to remain in the back. Draco frowned, then shrugged and the three sat down.

Professor Quirrell arrived soon after everyone was seated. Halfway to the front of the class, he paused, looking around for someone. When he spotted Harry, his watery blue eyes stared at the boy.

Harry winced and rubbed at the scar on his forehead. Hermione stopped him. She whispered, "Don't, Harry! It's all inflamed. Maybe you should see Madame Pomfrey."

Harry just shook his head as Quirrell finally stopped staring and made his way up to the front of the class.

"Why was he staring at you like that?" asked Draco in a concerned whisper. "That was creepy."

"I don't know," Harry said tightly. It was creepy but Harry felt as though a thin, skeletal finger was running down his spine and trying to insinuate itself into his blood. It made him feel a touch ill.

"M-m-mister Potter!" called the professor. His smile seemed friendly enough, but Harry couldn't help pushing his back against the back of his chair.

"Sir?" he replied as respectfully as he could.

"Y-y-your assistance? P-p-please?"

Harry felt a heavy dread in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to move.

"Q-q-q-quite harmless, M-m-mister Potter. Do c-c-come up," encouraged Quirrell with a very genial smile. He waved his hand in a beckoning gesture.

"Just do it and get it over with," Draco hissed, and nodded to his friend.

"I'm sure he won't hurt you, Harry," smiled Hermione.

Harry sighed, but then left his chair and headed up towards his teacher. He touched his scar, thinking it might hurt, but it didn't. Puzzled, he still warily approached his teacher.

"T-t-today, st-st-students," Quirrell addressed the class, "we'll b-b-be learning about..."

"Harrrrrry Potterrrrrrr…"

There was still no pain in his scar, but he felt as though something was inside of him. Slithery, slimey, icky.

"Oh yessss... I remember you, Harry Potter. My young nemesssissss."

Harry felt hatred dripping down his spine… that skeletal finger dug painfully into the base and he shivered. He was no longer aware of where he was.

"You weakened me, Harrrrry Potterrrrrr, but each day I grow sssstronger. Have you sssseen me in your dreamssss? Do you hear your mother'ssss delightful sssscreamssss?"

Harry saw a flash of red and he felt something, arms tightening around him; protectively.

"Please! Not my son! Not Harry!" screamed a voice whose timbre Harry had once known as it sang softly to him at night when the Dursleys locked him in his cupboard. Now the voice was heavily tinged with fear... terror... and he let out a whimper.

"...delightful sssscreamssss…" the hissing voice laughed.

And her voice screamed as green light suffused everything! Somewhere, a baby cried in terror.

"Harry!" screeched Hermione as Harry dropped to the floor like a boneless sack of skin.

Draco pushed ahead of everyone. Professor Quirrell was leaning over his friend, muttering something. Whatever it was, Draco only saw a threat. Without analysing the situation, he plowed his body into the professor and knocked him away from Harry. Quirrell's head impacted with the leg of his desk, knocking his awful smelling turban slightly askew and him out.

Draco, ignoring his teacher, turned around to see how Harry was. Harry was still unconscious but Hermione had knelt down by her friend and was holding a handkerchief to his forehead. Draco grimaced. The handkerchief was almost all red.


26 Sept1991 - 3am Thursday

In his dreams the nightmare screams were neatly packed away into a trunk that was then pushed deep into a dark cupboard. A gentle hum of some lost lullabye pervaded the dreams and Harry looked around the jumbled mess of his mind.

He wanted to cry. Or shout. It was messy and scary despite the pretty voice he was hearing. He wanted someone to hold him and to tell him it was all going to be all right.

"Harry?"

Harry lifted his head hopefully. He knew that voice. "Dark Man," he sighed with relief. Dark Man was very far away but Harry felt safe now that he was here.

"Harry, child, come along now. Wake up."

"I'm coming Dark Man! Don't go away!" shouted Harry. He ran away from the jumbled mess of painful memories and towards the voice of safety and comfort.

Harry woke with a start and a sob in his throat from his dreams. Before he even had to reach out and silently ask, arms enveloped him. Warm wool that smelled of spices and herbs surrounded him. Harry wrapped his arms around the waist of his teacher, not even caring that as he sobbed, his tears were wetting the man's long coat.

After several minutes, Snape felt the tears waning and the hitch in the boy's breath that signaled a near end to the tears. "Harry," he asked, his deep voice thrumming gently in his chest. "Can you tell me what happened in Professor Quirrell's class." He felt the panicked shaking of the boy's head.

Snape sighed, patted the boy's back a bit more and then pulled Harry away slightly. "I know that you are frightened, Harry, but did you know you scared all your classmates?"

"No, sir?" Harry hiccuped.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy told me what they saw, but I would like to know from you what happened."

Harry's hand reached up and he touched his teacher's cheek, as if to reassure himself that the worry he saw in Professor Snape's eyes was real. Snape was a little taken aback by the gesture, but he gave the child a smile to encourage him.

Harry didn't speak right away. Since the odour of disinfectant was doing away with the more pleasant smell of the older man, Harry's nose wrinkled as he recognised that he was in the Infirmary.

The small boy sighed, and began to speak quietly, "I didn't want to help Professor Quirrell, but he just was being so nice and... so anyway, I went up to the front of the class. I couldn't hear the professor anymore. There was a voice... in my head…" Harry suddenly made the connection. "It was the same one I heard in my nightmares!"

"Nightmares?" asked Snape. He hadn't been wakened in a few days and had hoped that the nightmares Harry had had earlier were gone.

Harry nodded. "I'm always having bad dreams about the Dursleys but these…" he huffed, sniffed, and was thankful when his teacher urged him to blow his nose in the handkerchief that appeared. Once he felt a little clearer, Harry explained, "They started about two days ago, sir, the nightmares did. Only, I'm not sure if they are nightmares. They seem so..." he grimaced in distaste, "real."

"Go on, Harry. Let me see if we can figure this out together," Snape urged. He wanted to hear what had happened in the DADA class, but if Harry's nightmares were connected to what happened in Quirrell's class, then he needed to know.

Harry slid back so his rear rested on the bed that Snape and he currently were seated upon, and his legs draped over his professor's. Snape did not move to push Harry's legs from his.

Harry blinked, and swiped at a stray tear. He then began to recite the dream he'd had for the last three nights, "I wake up in the Forbidden Forest. I don't feel scared or anything like that. I seem to know just where I am, too. And... and I'm hungry. More hungry than I ever was at the Dursleys. I'm so hungry that everything hurts inside of me. That's when I see it... a unicorn. I use some kind of spell to trap it and then I... I..." Harry's complexion went ashy and Snape straightened in worry. "I-I-I pull out a knife and I cut its throat!" Harry gasped out. Tears sprang from his eyes and his arms wrapped tightly about himself as he was now reliving the nightmare. "It was silver. It's blood was silver. And I... ugh... I d-d-d-drank it!" Harry wrenched himself from the horrible vision of his dream and sought out his professor's eyes. "I felt sick, but it tasted soooo good!"

That was too much for Harry's stomach. It protested sharply and he threw up over himself, his legs, and Snape's. Harry was mortified and tried to scramble away from his teacher, but Snape stopped him.

Snape was more horrified by the nightmare Harry had told him, then the fact that the boy had just thrown up on him. A few Scourgify spells, plus a Disinfectant Spell had the mess vanished and cleaned. He didn't ask anymore about the nightmare or DADA class as he fussed over his littlest Snake and helped him back under the covers of his hospital bed. When finished, he sat back down on the edge of the bed and Harry grasped his hand tightly. Snape gave it a comforting squeeze.

"You heard a voice in your head in DADA class?" Snape asked carefully.

Harry nodded. "In my nightmare, I spoke only once. I said, 'Ooh steh ah uhhh sstahhh.'"*

Snape felt a shiver of cold racing down his spine. He had not understood what Harry said, but he knew the language. He had heard it crooned by the darkest wizard of all to his beloved familiar, a huge snake. Harry was speaking Parseltongue!

Harry saw the fear in his teacher's eyes and he backed away. "I'm turning bad!" Harry scrunched the blankets down on the bed as he scrambled to get off the bed.

"No!" Snape caught the boy who struggled wildly against him. "Harry! You're not bad!" Snape's voice was sharp and firm and to his chagrin the wild boy relaxed so suddenly, as if his very Soul were giving up, that he became as substantial as a rag doll in his professor's arms. Snape tried to speak softly, warmly to the child, but Harry would not respond and Snape was feeling a panic building in his chest. Supporting the boy's lolling head he spoke in the terse tone his students were familiar with.

"Look at me, Mr. Potter!" Harry's spine stiffened, a bit, so Snape kept up the tone that had frightened ten years of students. "Do not make me take points or give you a detention, Mr. Potter! I will not put up with this attitude while I am speaking to you. Look. At. Me!" He ordered and just managed to stop short of shaking the child.

It was enough. Harry's bones and muscles came back to his skin and he shifted, sitting up, and locked his eyes upon his professor's.

Tears glimmered at the edge of his red-rimmed eyes. "I saw it in your eyes, sir," he said so sadly it caused a rip in Snape's heart. "You think I'm bad."

Snape, still supporting Harry, but now with one arm, cupped the boy's cheek with his other hand so he wouldn't look away. His voice was quieter, but no less firm then before. "You listen carefully to me, child. You are not a bad boy. You had a terrifying nightmare and what you described in your nightmare did frighten me, as well."

"What? Why?" Harry asked, the hope in his eyes painful.

"You spoke in a language that is very rare amongst wizard-kind..." and then he could say no more. That kernel of panic was blooming in his chest. Snape knew he had to say this just right or he would break this vulnerable, little boy.

Snape took a moment to shift Harry more comfortably on his lap. For a moment the boy looked away from his teacher, concentrating his attention upon the many, cloth covered buttons of Snape's long coat in the manner a much younger child might. He did not break Harry's concentration.

"Harry, have you ever spoken to snakes?" he asked in his gentlest, most cautious voice possible.

Harry nodded, then spoke up. "On Dudley's birthday Aunt Petunia tried to call Mrs. Figg to sit me, but she was gone or something so they had to take me to the zoo with them. The best part was the reptile area." Harry raised his head and gave his teacher a faint ghost of a smile. "I like snakes."

Snape returned the brief smile. "As do I, child," he agreed and Harry smiled a bit more as he got the small joke.

Feeling a bit more secure, Harry continued, "There was this really big snake that just looked very unhappy and when no one was looking, I started talking to her. Nobody would have caught me but then the glass disappeared and she got out." A small giggle escaped.

"You were pleased about that, hm?" asked Snape with a smirk.

"I was. Uncle Vernon wasn't.

Snape's lips thinned. No, he doubted very much that Uncle Vernon was at all pleased. He drew in a deep breath. "Harry," he said, wrapping his arms protectively around the boy. "Can you tell me what happened in Professor Quirrell's class today?"

He could feel small fingers worrying the buttons on his coat as Harry pressed his cheek against his professor's chest. Harry slowly began, timidly. "The voice? The one in my nightmare?" Harry's own voice hitched worriedly so Snape carded his fingers through the boy's messy hair. Harry stopped with the buttons and curled a fist in his teacher's robes before continuing, "I heard the voice in my head, but I didn't feel like I did in my nightmare. I was scared this time and I couldn't get away and it... he... he wanted to kill me but he killed HER instead! And there was all this icky green light and she screamed and he laughed and... and..." Harry sniffed at a tear. "...and… the baby was scared!"

Harry's arms suddenly gripped so tightly about Snape's waist that it was painful. Trapped in the horror of that moment, Harry begged the Dark Man to keep him safe. Only, instead of calling Snape Dark Man, he called him by his very, very secret name Harry only ever used in his dreams…

"Please don't let him kill me, Daddy!"


It was nearly an hour and a Calming Potion and a Dreamless Sleep Potion before Snape was finally able to calm the little boy down and get him back into bed. Even though it was nearly four in the morning and he was quite tired himself, he roamed the halls of Hogwarts deep in his thoughts and they were troublesome.

Daddy.

He wasn't as disturbed by the fact Harry had called him Daddy then he had expected. It had shocked him, of course, but as he intended to adopt the child, he didn't mind it. Something within his chest, down to his soul told him that it was right. Potter would kill him. That is, if he weren't dead already. Perhaps he might haunt Snape for daring to replace him? He felt that Lily would approve.

Oh, Lily! Harry had seen Voldemort killing Lily! And the poor child remembered her screams.

Snape had to stop in his wanderings where he rushed over to one of the windows, yanked it open and welcomed the chill breeze that heralded the oncoming cold weather of winter. If he hadn't, he was worried he might vomit.

He stood in the chill for who knows how long. Snape only knew that at some point his fingers were in danger of early frostbite so he closed the window and forced himself to return to his quarters where he poured himself a half measure of scotch that Minerva had given him last Christmas.

As he held the glass of pale amber liquid courage in his hand, he went to the Floo, threw in a handful of powder, and called out, "Minerva McGonagall's Quarters!"

Kneeling on the hearth, his head in the green flames, Snape felt like he waited for an eternity before the sleepy witch arrived in her sitting room tieing the belt of her tartan plaid sleeping robe about her waist. Her hair, that Snape was so used to seeing in its severe bun, fell in soft, brown waves touched by white and grey to her hips. It threw him for a bit and he felt rather stupid as he stared at his colleague.

"What is the matter, Severus?" Minerva asked crossly.

"I am very sorry for disturbing your sleep, Minerva, but I need to speak to someone and you're the only one I can talk to. Will you come through?" he asked.

"Give me a few minutes, if you would?" He nodded in reply. "Good. Have some strong tea ready, then."

Snape retreated from the green flames and as the connection closed they faded back into the orange and red. Snape went into his kitchenette and began to prepare the tea.

By the time the tea was prepared Minerva had come through his Floo. Her hair was back in its severe bun and she was dressed in the casual robes he'd sometimes seen her wear on her shopping trips to Hogsmeade.

Snape served the tea and for a long moment the two of them drank in silence.

"Harry woke this evening," Snape began quietly.

Minerva nodded. She, like everyone in the school, had heard how Harry had frozen in front of the DADA class and then fainted dead away so no one could awaken him.

"Was he able to tell you what happened in class?" she asked.

Snape nodded. "More than I wished to know," he gusted and then took a long sip of the hot tea, nearly burning his tongue.

Minerva listened quietly as first he told her about Harry's nightmare. She did not interrupt, but she paled considerably. He then told her about how Harry heard the same voice from his nightmare in his head and that it wanted to kill him.

"You-know-who?" Minerva finally asked and her hands were shaking slightly so that the teacup rattled against the saucer.

Snape nodded and summoned the scotch. He poured a small bit into her tea and Minerva thanked him with an inclination of her head.

The younger man waited until his colleague had sipped a respectable portion of the scotch laced tea before adding, "He remembers Lily getting killed."

"Oh sweet Circe! No! He couldn't have," Minerva's voice quavered and she put down her tea before it could slip from her hands.

Snape nodded miserably. "He was terror stricken, Minerva, and he asked... he begged me to protect him." He rose to his feet and turned to face the fire. "Minerva, what if it is not even safe for Harry here?"

"The wards would keep him safe from intruders, but you're worried about The Artifact," she stated.

"I can only surmise that it would be something the Dark Lord desired and I... cannot trust Albus anymore, Minerva." His hands clenched so tightly behind his back that his knuckles were white. "What if he has made it possible for Him or one of His most trusted to get into the castle?"

"He wouldn't!" declared Minerva staunchly.

Snape spun, aiming his darkest glare at the woman. True to her Gryffindor heritage, she did not flinch. Even so, he snapped sharply, "Are you so certain? Albus has lied to you, to me, and he plans to send Harry back to those damned Muggles! We don't know bloody anything that he is up to, yet we stupidly, and blindly, constructed a devil's nightmare of an obstacle course on his word alone!" He began to pace angrily. "Did you know that Harry's scar was bleeding when Madame Pomfrey was summoned to Quirrell's class?"

"I hadn't heard..."

"I did not know either. Not until Poppy told me when I went to visit after my classes and to sit with him. She was worried that she might not be able to stop the bleeding, but once she left the DADA classroom she was able to do so."

Minerva stiffened under Snape's sudden, intense gaze. She almost felt like he was accusing her of something, but she wasn't sure what. Scowling, she demanded, "There's more, isn't there, Severus?"

"Harry's a Parseltongue," he replied flatly.

The older witch's hand went to her mouth in shock. "Whatever does this mean, Severus? What is going on with that wee bairn?" Her distress showed starkly as her usually cultured brogue thickened.

Snape shook his head. "I think I do not wish to know, but I have a terrible suspicion that I do. I also think that Albus might know something as well." Snape dropped into his chair. "Albus must not learn of Harry's ability to talk to snakes, Minerva. I'm certain the Headmaster already disapproves of the boy being in my House. If he knew Harry were a Parseltongue..." he raked his fingers in frustration through his hair. "Merlin's teeth, Minerva! What if Albus thinks Harry is the incarnation of the Dark Lord?"


27 Sept 1991 - 6am

Later in the morning the Potions Master, who had not slept at all, arrived at the Infirmary a few hours before breakfast to check on Harry. He was not at all pleased to find the Headmaster watching vigil over the boy.

Snape made certain his Occlumency shields were tight and then he locked his distrust and anger at the Headmaster behind them. When he was ready, he greeted Dumbledore cordially.

"Headmaster. You are up early."

The Headmaster turned in the plush chair he was seated in and his eyes twinkled at the Potions professor. "Ah, my boy! Good morning to you. I thought you might sleep a bit later as Poppy informed me that you were here nearly all night."

"I was behind on my grading, so I decided to get up early and get some of it finished," Snape explained as he went to stand a bit closer to Harry.

"I don't think I've ever heard of you spending night watch over one of your Snakes before, Severus." Though it was an observation, Snape heard the question beneath.

Snape did not turn to face the older wizard. "I watch over all of my Snakes as needs must, Headmaster. His scar..." Snape indicated the child's forehead where a lock of hair had slid aside to reveal the lightning bolt shaped scar that still appeared as though its edges were infected.

"Yes. Poppy did mention that she had a bit of trouble with it, but it seems quite well now." As the Headmaster leaned over to brush more of the raven haired fringe aside, it took every ounce of control Snape had to not knock the man's hand away from the boy.

For a long moment the two men were silent before the Headmaster spoke again. "Poppy tells me he woke up rather upset last night while you were here, Severus. Did Harry say anything to you?"

"Nothing that was coherent, Headmaster," Snape lied smoothly. He faced his employer allowing Dumbledore the illusion that he was able to Legilimens him freely to discern the truth. As the old man's mind touched his, he realised for the first time that the unasked for intrusion was as distasteful to him as when the Dark Lord slammed into his mind. He was glad he had nothing in his stomach.

Snape faced Harry again. "Headmaster, have you any idea what it could mean? The bleeding of his scar?" Snape masked his worry and made sure to tinge his tone with an appropriate amount of curiosity.

"I have wondered, to be sure, since I received Madame Pomfrey's report about the incident. Unfortunately, unless Harry sees fit to tell us something, I cannot make anything better than a guess."

"Might I inquire what your guess is, Headmaster?" Snape asked with a slight sneer to show his irritation at Dumbledore's usual evasiveness. As he was often irritated with the man, this was not difficult to produce.

Dumbledore scratched his chin thoughtfully as though he needed to consider replying. After a few minutes he did so. "I wonder if the curse scar isn't similar to that Mark on your arm, Severus."

Snape's surprise was genuine for that was not something he had considered. "You believe that the Dark Lord marked the boy?"

"Voldemort," he caught Snape's flinch at the Dark Lord's name and shook his head. "Voldemort may not have intended to Mark Harry, but may have done so by accident."

Snape regarded Dumbledore, as the situation required, but then allowed his thoughts to whirr and shift as he turned over several ideas in his mind. It was only a blink of an eye, but it gave Snape the moment he needed before asking his next question.

"Is it possible, Headmaster, for Mr. Potter to be possessed by the Dark Lord, if indeed that scar is his Mark?" Snape asked carefully.

"It is entirely possible, Severus," Dumbledore replied sadly and a bit too quickly for Snape's comfort. The Headmaster then rose so that he was eye to eye with his Potions professor. "I need not remind you, my boy, that I must be told if Harry manifests any powers that are unusual, or if he should have nightmares that are... far too realistic to be such."

Snape stiffened but made sure not to show how the Headmaster's reminder caused him just a touch of fear. Was it possible for the man to already know of Harry's nightmares? No. Snape nodded curtly and added, once again, a touch of irritation to his voice. "I will not hesitate, Headmaster. You know where my loyalties lie."

The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes faded for just a moment as he patted Snape's forearm; the left forearm. "I sincerely hope that I do, my boy." He then smiled and that dangerous twinkle was back. "I shall see you at breakfast. Do let me know if Harry awakens."

Snape inclined his head as Dumbledore passed him. He did not breathe until the older wizard had gone for at least a minute. Then Snape dropped into the plush chair letting out a breath of relief.

His peace was short-lived as Madame Pomfrey entered the main room of the Infirmary from her office. She gave Snape a nod as she proceeded to examine Harry. Snape watched her meticulous care.

"I hadn't expected him to still be sleeping," mused Snape, needing the sound in the heavily silent Infirmary.

"He's more than exhausted, Severus. Whatever happened to him affected his magical core as well." She clucked her tongue and bent over to tuck the covers up to his chin.

This alarmed Snape and he sat up straighter. "How exhausted?"

"About a third. It's as though he fought a duel with a wizard more powerful than he was." She sighed sadly.

Snape shook his head. In a way, the child had been dueling with a much stronger wizard. "Will he sleep the rest of the day, Poppy?" She nodded. Snape rose from the chair and vanished the offensive, paisley, plush furniture. "I shall return at dinnertime to see how he's doing." Snape was almost at the door of the Infirmary when he stopped and turned around.

Poppy Pomfrey, showing an amazing insight, spoke before he could ask. "If the Headmaster is here when Harry awakens, I'll notify you, Severus. Don't worry yourself."

At the end of the day Snape returned to watch over Harry.

According to Poppy Pomfrey the Headmaster had not returned to visit the boy.

Poppy emerged from her office with a tray full of potions. They were for nutrition, hydration, calming, and a magical boost that would help in replenishing the magical core. Together they spelled the potions into the still sleeping child. When Poppy returned to her office, Snape levitated Harry slightly so he could change the linen. When it was all fresh, he Scourgified the boy's pyjamas. He used a more mild Cleaning Spell that Healers used on comatose patients to clean Harry as much as was possible without water and soap.

Finally he lowered the exhausted boy back into his bed where he took the time to tuck the covers around him and brush away a lock of hair where it had fallen across his cheek.

He then seated himself, took a book from his pocket, and began to read.


Two children played on the swings in a park. The sky was darkening and in the distance thunder rumbled ominously. The little girl, her straight, red hair wind-blown and tumbling around her shoulders, slid off the swing and ran, as if to get closer to the storm.

The little, black-haired boy panicked and jumped from his swing. He ran after the little girl. To his surprise, she spun around to face him and began to grow, becoming a woman. She knelt down in front of him.

"Keep Harry safe," she said softly as she held onto his upper arms.

"Lily?" the small boy asked.

"I trust you, Severus."

Thunder cracked in the sky and green lightning burst down towards the two children, striking the grown Lily. She screamed.

Little Severus screamed as well.

Snape shot awake with a shout, "Harry!"

The wizard's iron will took over and he was quickly composed from the dream he'd had. He looked over at the still sleeping boy and laid his hand upon the child's back, needing to feel him breathing.

After several minutes he leaned back in his chair and summoned his book which had fallen to the floor.


28 Sept 1991 - Saturday, Very Early

Harry finally woke up at almost two in the morning. It was dark in the Infirmary except for two torches and the moon slipping in through heavy drapes over the windows. He raised himself up on his elbows and when he turned his head to the right, he saw the Dark Man.

His cheeks coloured as he remembered being so afraid and asking... begging... daddy... oh God! Had he really said that? He meant to never say that! It was his secret... Harry slithered down under the covers, hoping against hope that maybe his teacher was asleep.

He wasn't.

Snape had been awake. He hadn't wanted to meet his nightmares again, and he honestly wished to be awake when his Snake finally woke. Even in the dim light he'd seen the boy's embarrassment. Snape smirked knowing that Harry had recalled earlier when he'd referred to his teacher as 'daddy'.

The Potions Master put away his book and rose from his chair. Harry had squirreled himself under his blankets and rolled himself up into a ball. Snape pulled the blankets down halfway and patted the child's back.

"Come along now, Mr. Potter. I know you are awake." Snape moved away to gather Harry's potions and to order some soup for him.

While his Head of House was across the Infirmary over by the Floo, Harry slowly uncurled himself, gave a slight shiver, and then slipped from the bed. He felt a bit wobbly, but he was steady enough that he was able to walk the short distance to the loo.

Snape turned away from the open cabinet of potions just in time to catch sight of messy black hair and striped pyjamas making for the loo. He walked over to Harry's bed and set down the potions on the night table. Very soon he heard the muted flush of the loo, then water running in the sink. Then he heard the pitter-patter slap of bare feet on a stone floor.

"Get into bed, Mr. Potter," ordered Snape as he reached for one of the potions.

Harry scrambled into his bed and eyed the potion in his teacher's hand. "What's that for, sir?" he asked.

"A magical boost to help the replenishment of your magical core. You need to drink it down before you eat anything." Snape handed him the phial and Harry regarded the potion in the glass.

As Harry took the phial in his hand, it went from clear to a glittery lavender blue. "That's wicked," breathed Harry.

"Indeed," the Potions Master agreed dryly. "Drink it down."

Harry uncorked the phial and tipped it into his mouth. He hadn't much experience with potions other than his chalky Nutrition Potion, but he they were medicine, just like in the Muggle world, and medicines never tasted good. This one was different, though. Harry couldn't honestly say that it tasted nice, but he did feel as though he'd swallowed dozens of tiny, twinkling stars. His tongue was tickled by a tripping fizziness that caused him to burp. Little transparent bubbles emerged with the burp and Harry couldn't suppress the euphoric giggle that followed. He then felt an oddly pleasant blossoming that began in his chest then spread outward, up and down his spine and out to his fingers and toes.

There was a simple smile upon Harry's face and his green eyes sparkled. "Wow! Is it like that for everyone?" he asked.

Snape smirked and shook his head as he levitated the soup bowl over to the boy. "Only for children. Adults require a Magical Boost Potion that's a bit more sober." Harry frowned slightly in puzzlement. Snape elaborated, "Adults don't care that much for bubbles. They are too... amusing."

"Oh! I like it. Do I get more?" he asked, still feeling an edge of euphoria through his veins.

"You will have two more doses before you get to leave the Infirmary, Mr. Potter." Snape handed him a spoon and then he sat back down with his book.

For a short while there was only the sound of Harry slurping his soup and Snape turning pages in his book as he read.

Halfway through his soup, Harry mumbled an apology. It was said so quietly, and so quickly, Snape almost didn't hear it.

"What do you have to apologise for, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape as he laid his book in his lap with his index finger tucked into the pages to save his place. He had his suspicions and as Harry's cheeks blushed to a healthy ruddiness his suspicion was confirmed.

Harry stared intently down into his soup. "F-for what I called you earlier, sir. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

Snape felt a tiny twinge of pain that the boy hadn't meant what he said. He clamped down upon it mentally and the relaxed air he'd been showing around Harry stiffened ever so imperceptibly.

"It is no matter, Mr. Potter," Snape replied so flatly that Harry's head snapped up.

Too late he realised that he'd said something, but what, that had hurt the older man. Harry couldn't help himself as he apologised again. This time Snape ignored it.

"Are you finished with your soup?"

Harry nodded miserably as the soup was vanished. He then curled up under his blankets, rolling onto his side and curling himself up as a hedgehog might.

Snape, seeing the child become even smaller as he curled up and away from his teacher, sighed inwardly. Had he not seen the boy's embarrassment earlier? How could he so easily take umbrage with Harry when he, the adult, had known the child was speaking from his terror. Anyone so afraid would not take time to lie and for him to feel a sting when Harry tried to take back the words that no one was obviously ever to hear, especially him, well it was natural to feel a touch of hurt. But, to take it out on the boy was… well… mean.

Snape, who had had every intention of leaving the little boy to his dreams, and possibly his nightmares, rose from his chair and leaned over the still curled up form. He brought the covers up, tucked them in and then placed a warm hand upon the boy's back.

"Sleep easily, Harry. I will remain the rest of the evening in case you need me."

The small form let out a gentle sigh and Harry's body relaxed beneath the covers. As Snape seated himself once more, Harry turned so he was now facing his professor though his eyes did not open. He yawned and soon Harry was sleeping peacefully.

They were both, silently, forgiven.


*'Ooh steh ah uhhh sstahhh.' phonetic translation from the Parseltongue Generator