It's me, and I'm alive!

So, as has been written on my profile for the past couple of months, I've been dreadfully busy with everything from school to debates. This chapter has been brewing for months and months, and really did not want to be written, partially because it is a sort of transition. Hence, I do apolgse if it is not the epic, adventurous chapter you had been hoping for. In any case, it's an update, and I hope people haven't lost hope entirely.

I can't say how long it will be 'til I update again; I will be travelling to Belgium for a debate in a couple of weeks, and then I have exams. But as I have said many times: the story is not abandoned, nor will I say it's on a hiatus. I simply need more time to complete chapters with the work I have.

Hope everyone's well, and please let me know what you've all been up to in my absence!

Lots of love,

Ivy

As soon as the large, wooden doors banged shut behind the irate Sirius Black, the room erupted in voices; surprised, smug and aghast alike. Harry, who didn't even know the man, felt oddly betrayed. He'd liked Sirius when they'd first met; he'd smiled kindly and been really gentle to him. And Snape had explained a few days earlier that Sirius wouldn't be happy about him – Severus – adopting Harry, but he'd never thought he wouldn't consent. From the looks of it, neither did anyone else.

Severus Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a swelling solution; he's face and body were rigid, and his breathing rapid. His eyes were trained on Dumbledore, and they once again seemed to be having a conversation meant for them only. Harry tugged at Severus' robes.

"Professor?" he said, his voice cracking. Snape's head twisted around and looked down at Harry, a small frown in place.

"We need to leave," he said as a form of answer, and stood up without waiting for Harry to respond. Placing a hand carefully but firmly on the back of Harry's neck, he urged the child to rise, and as soon as he was on his feet, he was led out of the room, long before any of the reporters or gathered guests had time to catch up with them.

Through the corridor they hurried, Professor Dumbledore some way behind them, all the way to the lifts. Not daring to wait for Dumbledore, for fear that some nosey wench from the Prophet would catch up, Severus stabbed at a button, and the lift clanked into movement. Looking down, he was met by a pair of large, worried, emerald eyes.

"We will speak when we get back to Hogwarts," Severus declared curtly, his anger at the situation rather evident in his terse mannerisms. Harry nodded and bit his lip. How had things gone downhill so quickly? Ever since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, everyone had acted as though there would be no problem for Snape to adopt Harry. And here they were, journalists hot on their heels and nowhere closer to the formal adoption than Harry had been when living at the Dursley's.

As the lift rocked to a halt, they continued through the atrium, many of the Ministry officials glancing curiously at their hasty walk. Stopping for a mere second at the Floo, Severus irritably flung a handful of Floo powder into the flames and barked;

"Hogwarts!"

Seconds later they were deposited in Dumbledore's office, and Severus finally let go of the child.

"What happened?" Harry asked. Indeed, he had been there, but nevertheless he was still rather confused. Could Sirius' refusal really mean that Snape couldn't adopt him? It all seemed rather daft to him; why should one man be able to veto a decision made by at least another ten wizards and witches? He watched as his guardian unscrewed a bottle of a dark amber liquid, pouring the smallest of splashes into a glass and drinking it all up in one go. The tumbler placed safely on the Headmaster's desk, Severus seemed to deflate as he closed his eyes for a moment.

As Harry waited for Snape to return to the present, the fireplace roared to life once again, spitting out the Headmaster, who looked equally as put out as Severus. The boy nibbled on his bottom lip, scared of the serious tension in the air. Snape, lifting his head as he heard Dumbledore step through, immediately frowned.

"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin just happened?" he demanded, echoing the little boy's earlier question (albeit with certain additions), his voice still terribly cross. Dumbledore did not reply, but took a deep breath before walking around the desk and slumping down into his grand chair.

"I don't know Severus," he replied, and Harry found his heart beating faster. Although he hadn't known Dumbledore for very long, he could sense that this sentence, from this particular wizard, was very unusual. Dumbledore was, to him, and many others, a source for any and all wisdom, and to have him declare confusion and ignorance so openly was almost like someone smashing up one's favourite possession; positively heart-breaking.

The Potions master slammed his hand into the heavy wooden desk, making Harry jump with fright, and Professor Dumbledore smile sadly.

"Damn it, Albus, you'll have to give me more than that!" he exploded, his lank hair hanging in his face, as it often did when the man was in deep distress. Harry, standing diagonally behind his guardian, didn't know to say, or do. He stood quietly, wringing his hands, his worried, emerald eyes scurrying from one professor to the other.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, pleadingly, quietly, and somehow managed to calm the younger wizard down considerably. Standing up straight, Snape yanked his robes into immaculate order, and twitched his head in silent command to Harry. The boy hurried over, and sat down in the chair indicated by his guardian. Snape summoned another one from the fireplace and seated himself in it, gingerly placing his fingertips together and staring over them at his long-time mentor. "Of course I can't explain it," the elderly man elaborated. "As much as I wish this wasn't the case, I am not capable of steering people to do what I want if they are entirely opposed to the idea." Snape snorted incredulously, but Dumbledore merely kept his sad smile in place and remained silent. Huffing in annoyance, Snape shifted in his chair. Dumbledore's raised eyebrow was almost unnoticeable.

"Um…" Both men turned to Harry at this utterance, and the boy blushed, for some unfathomable reason. "Can… I mean, can someone explain what—"

"You heard the Headmaster," Severus instantly chided him. "We don't know."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore hurried to say, smiling comfortingly at Harry. "The boy is understandably confused." Snape held Harry's gaze for a moment, before the boy looked away. Sighing, the head of Slytherin House closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face.

"It is difficult to say, at this point, what is going to happen," Snape amended in a comparatively soft voice (as soft as the former Death Eater would ever allow himself to sound).

"But I don't understand," Harry confessed, his hands still tightly clenched around each other. Reaching over, Snape's pale, cold fingers wrapped around Harry's hands, and gently untangled them. Once freed, Harry almost smiled, and opted for sitting on his hands instead.

"What don't you understand, my boy?" Dumbledore enquired jovially, somehow forgetting the disaster that had just taken place at the Ministry.

"How could Sirius do that?" he enquired, his brow crumpling. "And why does he get to decide? He doesn't know me," he added firmly. Harry liked Sirius, but he wasn't daft. He didn't know Sirius, even though Sirius had been good friends with his parents.

"Your godfather is upset, Harry," Dumbledore started explaining calmly, ignoring the clenching of Severus' jaw. "While in prison, he was convinced that once he was released, he would be given custody of you. He loves you like you were his own son." Harry's brow furrowed further.

"But then why didn't he understand… I mean, Snape—"

"Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape knows me," Harry continued. "Didn't anyone explain that to Sirius?" Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"We tried." Harry chewed his bottom lip in an attempt to make sense of it all, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how we twisted and turned the situation, he could not seem to understand it. Finally giving up, he heaved a deep sigh and slumped back in the chair, utterly dejected.

"Do I have to go back to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia now?" he asked fearfully after a few moments. Surprisingly, the Potions Master was quicker to offer reassurances than the kindly Headmaster.

"No, Harry, you don't. Despite the fact that I am not legally your father I am still your guardian and you are going nowhere." Even Dumbledore was surprised at the word 'father' escaping the younger wizard's lips, completely without malice or contempt. It was the first time he had truly spoken of it.

"As Severus says," Dumbledore filled in as the other two broke eye contact to look at the elderly man, "you will remain here at Hogwarts until we know what will happen next. I daresay we departed so quickly we were not given a date for a second meeting."

"A second meeting?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore affirmed. "We will of course push for the adoption anyway." The Headmaster met Severus' eyes and they seemed to have one of their non-verbal exchanges. Harry huffed, and was immediately settled down by a sharp look from his guardian. "For the time being, Sirius has the last say. However, there are certain… Arguments we can put forward," Dumbledore continued, Snape's eyes trained on him as if he, Dumbledore, were about to explode.

"That's enough," said Severus finally, rising, and indicating that Harry do the same. "It's high time we head back to our quarters. Harry ought to rest."

"But I'm not tired, I just—"

"Rest," Severus interrupted. He pointed at the door. "Head downstairs; I'll be right behind you." For a moment, the boy looked like he was about to protest, but when he met his guardian's eyes, he decided not to push his luck. Sighing, he turned around and trotted for the door; the older men heard his trainer-clad feet pad down the stairs, and his voice was muffled as it greeted the gargoyle outside the door.

"He needn't know," Severus told Dumbledore firmly when he was certain his charge was well out of earshot. "He is a little… boy, he doesn't need…"

"Severus, I think we can both agree that despite his age, he has experienced more than any child ever ought to," Dumbledore answered quietly, as was his custom.

"Damn his experiences!" Severus exploded, slamming his hand into the top of the desk once more, sending several small, silver trinkets to the ground. Dumbledore, not fazed by this outburst, merely regarded the younger wizard with sad interest. "Curiosity killed the cat, Dumbledore," Severus hissed, running a hand down his face yet again. "Let me… Please… Just let me deal with it." Remaining silent for a moment, Dumbledore eventually sighed, almost inaudibly.

"Very well." Straightening, Severus performed his customary tug-of-the-cuffs to sort himself out, allowed himself to run his hand through his hair one last time, before he turned and left the room without so much as another glance at his old mentor. The remains of the fire crackled in the hearth as Dumbledore stared into the space in front of him, the two younger wizards out of sight and earshot. Closing his eyes, he repressed the urge to place his face in his hands.

The corridors were draughty, more so than usual, as the Potions Master walked down the corridors, lost in thought. It was almost as though he was under an Imperius curse, the way he walked, seemingly without the slightest worry about where is was going. He knew all right. And he was still warring with himself about how to deal with the situation which awaited him.

He had meant what he'd said to the Headmaster. Curiosity killed the cat. At the same time, the boy did have a certain right to know what was going on, as much as it disgusted him to have to admit it, even just to himself. On the one hand, if he explained everything to the boy, there was bound to be more questions. Naïve questions, those he could handle, but impudent ones, which were sure to follow, he wasn't too keen on. On the other hand, if he did not relent and simply allowed the boy to live in ignorance, there would, without a doubt, be in increase in frequency of Harry's bouts of misbehaviour. He could not decide which he preferred.

Reaching his quarters, he flicked his wand to open the door. As the slab of wood swung open, Severus had to bite his tongue not to swear loudly.

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry, who had been dawdling along the corridors, taking a detour to get himself time to think, stiffened at the foreboding shout of his name. He hadn't thought that Snape would be so quick to leave the Headmaster's. He'd thought Snape would stay there for at least another twenty minutes or so, and had thus decided that it'd be safe to take a slightly longer walk. Evidently, he had been wrong, and with anxious butterflies in the pit of his stomach he broke into a run, barrelling down the stairs and eventually skidded to a halt in front of his guardian, perhaps three minutes later. With a swat to his backside, he was sent into the living room before the door was shut with an ominous click.

"Do you wish to get your backside tanned tonight, son, or were you simply being obtuse?" Snape thundered the minute the door was closed. Harry winced, not having realised Severus was quite that irritated until that moment.

"Sorry sir," he croaked. "Can I just explain!" he hurried to add, as Snape looked no less enraged.

"I don't know, can you?" Snape hissed.

"May I," Harry was quick to amend, forcing himself not to fidget.

"You may. In fact, if you don't try explain, you'll be over my lap in the next five seconds."

"I just needed to clear my head. I promise, sir, I really do. I was on my way but I just took an extra round on the third floor before heading down the stairs. I swear, I wasn't going anywhere I just wanted to try and get a grip of the situation—"

"All right, all right," Snape sighed, sinking into his armchair, his anger completely drained in the course of five seconds. "Sit down." Harry, eager to follow instructions, hurried over to the couch and bounced into his regular seat, pressing himself into the corner. "Listen Harry, we don't know what's happening. We will try again with this, and hopefully the Ministry will allow us the adoption without your godfather's consent."

"Why would they do that later if they didn't do it now?" the boy enquired, confused.

"We can plead that Bl—Sirius is not mentally stable," Severus said calmly, seeing the disapproval in the boy's eyes.

"Sirius is not mentally unstable," the boy murmured, torn between the desire to please his guardian and his wish to protect his godfather.

"As much as you mightn't want to admit it, your godfather is not exactly entirely sane at the moment. He's been locked up for almost eight years, obviously he is not the man he once was." And thank Salazar for it, he added to himself.

"He hasn't changed. He knew my parents." Snape failed to see the logic in this, but decided, for once, that he would not correct or question the boy for it.

"How about some lunch?" he said instead, abruptly leaving the topic in favour of something more (the horror) domestic.

"Lunch? Lunch?" Harry blurted out, incredulous. "How can I think about lunch when my future—"

"Cease your melodramatic ranting," Snape broke in, rising to call the house elves for some food.

"But Sna-ape!" the boy whinged, rising and trailing after his guardian, nipping at his heels like a forlorn puppy.

"If you do not quieten right this instant you can spend the next fifteen minutes in the corner."

"But—"

"Harry."

"Fine." The boy resisted the urge to stomp his foot and instead trudged back to the couch.

"Mind your attitude." The boy didn't acknowledge the remark, but simply stared down at his trainers, irritated at the perfect knots of the laces. Too tidy, he thought. Just like Snape.

"Can we have ice cream?" he found himself calling to the professor after a moment, as he heard the man shuffling papers on his desk.

"Ice cr—" Snape broke off, realising he'd almost let down his placid façade. "No, we will not have ice cream," he continued almost immediately, frowning at the slouching boy on the sofa.

"Why?"

"Because we don't have any," Snape replied curtly, aware of how ridiculous a notion that was. If the boy asked the elves for ice cream, they'd have fifteen tons of it within minutes.

"What sort of people don't have ice cream?" Harry asked, looking at his guardian with a frown on his small forehead.

"I'm growing tired of your endless chattering," Snape said, shutting a desk drawer with considerable force, pleased to see the boy's nervous twitch at the sound. "Table, now." The boy got up, and made his way to the table a bit slower than normally, but not quite slowly enough to earn him a rebuke. The Potion's Master seethed. "You are treading on very thin ice, young man," he bit out as he, too, sat down at the table, just as the food appeared. The boy looked down, hiding his reddening cheeks, but still feeling irritated and rebellious enough to not reply.

They ate in silence. Harry's feet did not swing as they normally did during meals, and Snape did not chide the boy as he usually did when the boy held his fork in the wrong hand. All that could be heard was cutlery against plates and the ticking from Snape's desk clock.