Title:
Twenty-one days

Prequel to:
A few days more

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 14th 2009

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive for the next twenty-one days?

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in twenty-one days
"Stop this annoying wiggling and go back to sleep, you insufferable child." He growled, opening one eye to look down at the child. "It is still too early for being awake."
"I'm sorry, sir." The boy immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to …"
"Shut up, brat." Snape interrupted before Harry could make a fool of himself. "I pulled you to me last night, and you are quite fine right here where you are. You have been much too cold after sitting on the cold floor wearing a damp shirt."
He could tell that the boy wanted to protest, but that he was just too tired, and that the warmth he offered was just too beckoning.
"Okay." Was all he heard from the brat before he fell back asleep, and he himself closed his eyes again, too.

Chapter fourteen
Day eight - Monday, ninth of September
Hi dad

Coming back to the classroom Severus watched the children for a few moments silently. As it seemed they had found the packing thread he kept on one of the shelves. There were some occasions that he sold one or another potion, and if he had to send them, he had to make sure that they were packed safely. In a packet wrapped with packing thread. And now the little imps had found this one and were playing ball with it, throwing it through the classroom to each other.

"Alright." Draco said. "I choose truth."

"You're just too scared about what we could make you doing." Theodore smirked at the blond who huffed at the other boy.

"Alright, Draco." Weasley, Ronald, started, slowly. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"That's all you can ask, Weasel?" Draco blinked at the redhead, and he could see the hurt in the other boy's eyes at Draco using weasel instead of Ronald or at least Weasley. Well, he had known that the boy would have a hard time, reintegrating himself into the group after his attack on Harry. "You're disappointing me. And yes, I have."

Severus quickly scanned the present Slytherin girls, and upon noticing Tracy going red, he knew at once who it had been the boy, that right now threw the ball towards Longbottom, Neville, had been kissing.

"Truth." Neville said, quickly. Well, somehow, he had known that the boy would choose that.

"Alright, Neville." Draco said. "Is it true that you're in love with Lovegood?"

"Yes." The other boy admitted with a heavy sigh.

"You're not serious." Weasley, Ronald, said, his eyes large. "She's mental!"

"Dunno." Neville answered. "Sometimes she seems mental, but in the end, she's always right somehow. She knows things just in another, in a strange way we can't understand, but in the end she's always right."

"But she's talking in riddles." Seamus shook his head. "No one's able to understand her."

"Dumbledore's talking in riddles, too." Neville defended the third year Ravenclaw girl. "And no one understands him either if he's in his antics, but everyone likes him nevertheless."

"Alright, that's an argument." Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "And she's pretty, good choice, Neville."

The boy blushed a deep red, averting his eyes for a moment, and Theodore actually had to remind him to throw the ball, what he did then, towards Blaise.

"Dare." The boy said, seemingly being the first one who chose this as they all cheered at that.

"Uhm … well … alright … you go to Professor Snape and ask him if he's ever been in love."

Groaning Severus closed his eyes. That definitely was the worst thing they could … "I don't think that's a good idea." He heard Harry saying and startled he opened them and looked over at the boy.

"And why not? It's a simple dare-question." Neville blinked at the raven.

"Yes, normally it would be, but we're not in a normal situation." Harry said. "Maybe he had been in love once, and something happened, whatever it could have been, because he isn't married, now, is he? After all, he's old enough so that he could have a family, but he hasn't … well, and with that question we would just hurt him, and we shouldn't do so. None of us knows if we'll make it out of here alive, and none of us should do anything that would hurt someone."

"You're right." Theodore said. "Think of something else, Neville."

"Alright … ok … uhm … well … I bet you wouldn't dare waking Professor Snape tonight and telling him that all his shelves in the potions lab broke – the potions vials all laying broken on the floor now."

"Isn't he supposed doing the dare right away?" Gran- … Hermione asked.

"Normally yes." Draco answered. "But Neville is right. Severus would hear it, if his potions lab were destroyed, and he wouldn't believe it without the noise."

"Oh … yes." The girl answered, frowning, and he, Severus, couldn't help frowning, too. Hermione normally would have been the one thinking of such a thing as missing noise when it came to his destroyed potions laboratory. Yet – she obviously hadn't. He knew that the lack of food would cause lack of concentration sooner or later, but honestly, he had thought that the girl would show signs of this lack rather later than sooner. Obviously, he was wrong.

"Ok, I'll do it." Blaise said, smirking, and he, Snape lifted his eyebrow. Well, that could be funny, if he had any say in this, too – now that he knew what awaited him. The boy threw the 'ball' to Harry who sighed.

"Truth." He said and for a moment he could see fear in the boy's eyes.

Yes, Harry was a Gryffindor through and through – when it came to keeping his friends safe, when it came to helping someone that was in trouble. He would go through hell and back if it were necessary to save his friends or anyone at all and he would willingly die if it were necessary to keep someone else alive. But otherwise, the boy was rather sly. Yes – Harry would have fit well into his house. It would have taken him, Snape, some time to get used to the fact, but …

"Well …" He heard Blaise starting his question and he could see both boys regarding each other carefully, Blaise apparently wondering if he could ask the question that was on his mind, and Harry as it seemed wondering what question Blaise might ask of him. "Well … Professor Snape said he would take you in, and you seemed to be alright with it. I mean, you even looked as if you were afraid, he would back out of it." The boy started and he could see Harry going pale.

For a moment he wondered if that thought was so startling to the boy and he wondered if he really had done the right thing, offering the boy adoption, and why the boy had agreed so easily, even had been disappointed upon learning that Draco was his godson, when at the same time the thought of it was so startling to him. But then Blaise continued.

"Well, I wonder, what do you think? Are you really sure that you are alright with the Professor taking you in?"

He could see Harry giving a sigh of relief before smiling – actually smiling – at the other boy, and he wondered what it had been the boy had feared Blaise might be asking.

"Yes, I am." He listened to the Gryffindor's answer, and he couldn't help feeling a strange knot settling into his chest. "I am absolutely sure."

"But why?" Ronald asked, shaking his head. "It's Snape we're speaking of. He's made your potions lessons a living hell since day one. I don't understand, Harry. You've been ill before each and every potions class and on days we've had potions you weren't even able to eat anything at all, neither before nor after."

"Yes." Harry admitted in a near whisper, averting his eyes and Severus couldn't help feeling the pain the boy felt himself, knowing that he had caused the boy such troubles for three years. "Yes, I have been ill before potions, and yes I have been too nervous to eat anything on days we've had potions. But that's the past. Professor Snape has apologized and … dunno, maybe he'd just had a wrong view of me, as I had a wrong view of him. He isn't so bad. He does everything to keep us not only alive, but as comfortable as possible, too. He talks to us and he … well, he's the only adult who ever listened to me, who ever believed me, who never lied to me. He's the only one … I mean, he allowed me to cry all over him and he even held me. Much has changed Ron, and honestly, we haven't been much better anyway, calling him dungeons bat and evil git. We have never tried to see what might be behind his mask."

"As I have never tried to see what might be behind your mask, Harry."

It was at that moment that he finally entered the classroom, stepping behind the boy that was to become his son, that neither had noticed Draco's startled face, nor Theodore's, and he had to suppress a smile when he saw the startled faces of the nine children that were awake right now, their guilty looks, and again he realized how much he enjoyed tormenting children, Gryffindors as well as Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, even if only his Gryffindors were present right now aside from his Slytherins. His Gryffindors! Somehow that thought wasn't so frightening anymore.

Gently he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and took the packing thread ball from Harry's fingers. The imp, however, did not really look contrite as he looked up at him – so much for the tormenting.

"Truth." He simply said, still looking at the boy, the curled up packing thread they had used as a ball still in his hands.

It took the boy a few moments to curl his mind around the fact that he, the dungeons bat, the evil git, had joined their game, had taken the ball, and now had chosen truth, allowing him to ask a question, any question, in front of his classmates. But then his shoulders slumped, and Severus knew that he had chosen his question, and that it wouldn't be a pleasant question.

"What if we're out of here?" The boy asked. "Right now, we're here and none of us knows if we will survive. But what if … what if …" Unable to finish his question the boy trailed off and then averted his eyes and he physically could feel the child's desperation.

"You mean – will I stand to my word the moment we are out of this classroom?" He asked, lowering himself down to one knee beside the boy until he was at eye level with the teenager who looked at him nearly frightened. "Yes, it is easy to take someone in, knowing that it wouldn't be for long, knowing that maybe death lies ahead soon to remedy the situation. And yes, your question is very much warranted, and I do understand your train of thoughts. You, however, should know me by now, after three years of having me as your potions teacher. Did I ever give you the impression that I did things I have not thought through? Did I ever give you the impression that I did things I never wanted to? Until the end?"

The boy could only shake his head, still not able to give a vocal answer away, and he slowly nodded his head. "I, too, had a picture of you in my mind, a picture that had been wrong, I might add, and I have acted according to that picture, I have allowed that picture to rule over my emotions and to dictate my actions towards you, for what I once again apologize. I should not have caused you so much pain. And to finally answer your question. Yes, I have offered to adopt you, and you will stay my son until the end, whatever end this might be, death down here, or you being old enough to have your own children to present an old and grumpy Potions Master with grandchildren."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said after a few moments of just watching him, smiling at him, even though it was a shy smile only, and groaning inwardly Snape realized that he liked to see the child smiling, realized that he was indeed about to go soft – or to lose his touch, perhaps both. That wasn't good … that was not good at all … but at the same time he was afraid that something would stop it now, that something would draw a halt to it. He was more afraid that the small smile would stop again some day, than about the fact that he was becoming soft.

Throughout all the years living with his less pleasant father, throughout all the years as a spy, and throughout all the years since Lily had died, he had learned all the stages of grief by heart, but he had never healed. There had always been another pain, another reminder, another betrayal that had ripped his heart open wider and wider, until he had built such a strong wall around it, that nobody could penetrate it to reach him and to hurt him anymore, and all he allowed them to see was a bitter, sarcastic, and dark, cold, bastard of a man. A mere shell of the man he would like to be.

Of course it was nice from time to time to deceive himself, to allow himself to think of better times or another world, to dream of someone who would accept him, of someone who would not shy away from him the moment he entered the room, of someone who would not turn his back on him, of someone who would see the man he wanted to be – but he didn't know anymore how to show others the other side of the man that was Severus Snape, and somehow he had always known that there would never be such a person. No one could see behind his mask, not even his Slytherins, as well as they knew him, not even they could see him completely.

But somehow Harry could see. Harry, who had absolutely never learned positive interactions between human beings, this child was able to see more than just the shell of the man he wanted to be. He could see the man he already was, not the one he displayed out of fear of being rejected.

Gently he lifted his hand and carded his fingers through the boy's black mop of hair, piercing the child that could see behind his mask with a serious look of his own before he got a grip on himself, and his eyes came to rest on Weasley. He stood and then threw the ball at the red haired boy.

Shocked, the teen needed a few moments until he was able to stammer a "t-truth" out, his eyes as startled as his voice. Well, he had hoped that the boy would choose this.

"Will you accept your friend's decision in his choice of his elders, Ronald?" He simply asked, his eyes not leaving the boy while one of his hands still rested on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes." Ronald Weasley answered after another few moments he seemed to need to comprehend the situation and to understand the question. "Of course."

"Good." The Potions Master inclined his head curtly. "Then I suggest you end this – silly game, and take the bowls from the shelf. Our … 'soup' … is ready."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Did you really … I mean, I don't want to be so … dunno … I know I'm annoying the hell out of you … but …"

Sighing, Severus placed the quill aside and beckoned the boy over. He waited until the child, that was so unsure of himself and anything that had to do with himself, stood in front of him, his eyes lowered to his knees, and he took the boy's wrists and gently pulled him closer until he stood between said knees.

"I guess I will have to say it for another thousand times." He said, gently taking hold of the boy's chin, and lifting his head slightly so he had to look at him. "Yes, I did mean what I said, or I would not have said it in the first place, and surely not in front of your classmates. And yes, I do want you, or I would not have offered adoption to you in the first place. And no, nothing will change the moment we are out of here. I have thought it through before I offered it to you, and I do know that it is something that will be permanent. You cannot adopt someone today and discard him tomorrow. So, I do realize that it will last until either you, or I, will be dead. You have never had someone who actually wanted you, and your entire life you have learned how unwanted you are, in physical lessons as well as in emotional lessons, and so I do understand your reluctance in believing my words. But can you not at least try to believe them?"

"I want to, sir." The boy sighed and looked back at the dirty floor underneath their feet. "But I just don't know how. I want to belief it so badly it hurts whenever I think that such a thing could never happen to me, but I don't know how."

That was a response that somehow warmed within him, and he pulled the boy closer even, until he could wrap his arms around the thin frame of the child. Some place within, that had been cold for such a long time, warmed by Harry's tone of voice as his former bane of existence said that he wanted to believe Severus. That was something, and concerning this particular child it was something important, it was a step in the right direction and Severus silently acknowledged it as what it was.

Watching the child leaving his office, stepping back into the classroom, and sighing a sad sigh of somebody who had seen too many things while having too small shoulders to carry them, sighing a tired sigh, he wondered if the child would have a chance, ever, if they would have a chance, or if they would die down here before he could try to help the boy back to life.

Coming back to the classroom Harry saw Ron and Hermione talking quietly together with Neville, Vincent, and Gregory, sitting on the tables they had pushed together a few days earlier. For a moment he had to furrow his brows, but then he remembered their given names and he smiled, noticing that he got better at that. Draco and Theodore both were sleeping as well as Lavender, Seamus, and Parvati. Dean was reading a book, but he could see his eyes dropping from time to time. Millicent, Pansy, and Daphne were whispering together, sitting at the group of mattresses, Tracy and Blaise sitting beside them tiredly.

He strolled over to one of the remaining tables in the background, and taking his book bag, he pulled out another sheet of parchment and his quill. He didn't have to bother with ink as their ink bottles were scattered around on the different desks.

While for an essay he normally got distracted easily, never mind how much he tried to keep focused while sitting at his desk in the common room – by Ron's fiddling with his Quidditch book or by Ginny's talking about the last Quidditch game, by Seamus' theories about the next Quidditch game, he right now was able to concentrate on what he wanted to write down, even if the soft whisper of their conversations reached him. He normally wanted to join their conversations and to ask about the Ravenclaws' seeker or the Hufflepuffs' beater, or the Slytherin's keeper – and the next thing he knew, it was too late for finishing his essay but time for bed.

Right now, however, he began scratching off words right away, as if they were longing to leap from his fingers through the quill and onto the page. He scribbled and he could ignore everyone in the room as he wrote and wrote and wrote.

A little while later, Harry heard the Potions Master quietly returning to the classroom and sitting down at his desk, but he didn't stop writing even then, and from the occasional sound of a scratching quill, Harry knew that the man was writing in his own journal.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus Snape had been writing for some time now. Some days ago now, he had started making accounts on what was happening down here, on the children's health, on their remaining potions and potions ingredients, on their emotions and on their decisions, and he would continue doing so until the end. It was important for when Albus found them, never mind if he found them dead or alive, and so he ended each report on what step would be important when they were found – just in case that he wouldn't be present anymore to take care of things – or would be to weak doing so.

Looking over at the boy he worried most about, he noticed that Harry had fallen asleep, his arm laying outstretched on the tabletop beside the parchment he had been writing on, his head laying atop his outstretched arm, using it as some kind of pillow. The quill lay loosely in the boy's other hand that rested on the other side of the parchment, and he shook his head. If the boy slept in such an uncomfortable position, then he would surely be all achy the next day, something that wouldn't go well together with the hunger cramps the boy already experienced.

With a silent groan he got off his chair. His own body started to complain, as it seemed, not liking the treatment it had to go through, but he shoved it to the background. He had endured worse during his life, he would be able to endure this here as well.

For a while at least.

When he had come back to the classroom, he had spotted Harry sitting at the table, writing, while some others had been sleeping, and two groups of children had been conversing quietly. He had been about to go over to Harry, to spend some company with him, but then he had decided against it. If Harry had wanted company, then he would have chosen their 'commontable' as they called it by now to write on. The boy, however, hadn't done so, he had chosen the solitary of one of the abandoned desks, what had meant that he had wanted to be alone, and he had respected that wish for privacy. They had little enough of that down here.

Coming to a halt beside the table, he couldn't help looking down at the sleeping child for a moment, at the relaxed form despite the uncomfortable position the boy slept in, and at the parchment that lay in front of the sleeping boy, and two words practically sprang to his eyes, beckoning him to take the parchment and to read it, two words that made his heart leap within his chest.

'Hi dad,'

He stared at those two words, even after he had taken the parchment from between the sleeping child's arms, and he seemed to be unable to peel his eyes off them.

Hi dad.

Two simple words, simple letters stringed together, and they had him nearly hitching a breath, had his heart leaping in his chest, had him swallowing past a lump that formed in his throat, had him nearly suffocating.

Hi dad.

And Harry had used them.

Harry, the child that had trusted no adult so far, Harry, who had been abused for his entire life, Harry whom he had hurt so badly for the past three years. This child had used those strings of letters, those two small words.

Hi dad.

This child, that had gone through so much, acknowledged him even yet, even before they had used the potion he was brewing in his laboratory right now, even before the adoption was valid, as his father, as the one person he would be living with, and the amount of trust he could sense between those two simple words nearly made him wanting to slam his fist at the table for all the injustice, and all the hurt, and pain this particular boy had been through – and would go through if they weren't found and freed soon.

Looking back at the parchment, he couldn't help reading those two words once more before reading the rest of what that child had composed.

'Hi dad,

I know it's stupid to write this now, and I know that you're no one for sentimentalities or such things, but I feel that I just HAVE to write it, just in case. Well, there isn't much to say at all, we've talked a lot, and I'm sure that we'll do so until the end, whatever end it might be, just like you said. But what I wanted to say to you is, thanks.

It's true what I've said earlier, you're the ONLY adult who ever listened to me, who ever believed me, and who never lied to me. You've given me so much more in such a short time than aunt Petunia ever had in thirteen years. You've given me more than just healing, words, hugs, and comfort. You've given me hope and a reason to fight until we're out of here, because you've given me a family, and I want to live to HAVE that family, and for that I do thank you. You can't imagine how happy you've made me with this.

Maybe I should have listened to the hat, three years ago, and I wonder what it would have been like, if I had been sorted into YOUR house, if I had been sorted into Slytherin. I wonder if that had been a bad thing, or a good thing, or if it would have made a difference at all. I wonder what you would have been like, if you would have still hated me then, and if, if you then would have acted towards me differently even IF you hated me.

Well, maybe I would have lost Ron's and Hermione's friendship then, ok, not maybe but SURELY. And surely, I would have missed a lot then, because they've been my first and only real friends I ever had. But on the other hand, I wouldn't have known their friendship then, and surely, I can't miss something I've never had. And besides – well, Draco, Theo and I have become some kinds of friends now anyway, and maybe I would have been friends with them back then, too. I don't know.

However, I just wanted to say thanks to you, and I wanted to apologize. For all the troubles I cause you now.

I know that it's my fault that you have to worry about me now, in such a way. If I were NORMAL, just like the others, then you wouldn't have to worry about me so much, added to all the worries because of this situation to begin with. And I know, that if I just hadn't been so bad, then uncle Vernon wouldn't have had to punish me so often, or if I just would have been STRONGER, then you would never have found out – what also leads to not worrying so much over me added to your worries about the situation.

So, if I summarize everything, I can just say I'm sorry for all the trouble I cause – again, and thanks for all you've done and for all you're about to do.

Harry'

For a moment he didn't know if he should feel affected by the gratitude the boy showed towards him, if he should blame himself for the deep misjudgment he'd had, thinking of the boy as an ungrateful brat, if he should be angry at the brat for this ridiculous self-blame, or if he should …

Sighing, he shook his head and sat down at the table himself, carefully taking the ink-stained quill from the boy's loose hand. He took another piece of parchment from the boy's book bag, wondering how the child could find anything in the chaos that was said book bag, and dipping the quill into the ink pot, he then started to write.

'Dear foolish child,'

He wrote, but then he blinked at the line and shaking his head at his own sentimentality, he added another word.

'Dear foolish child, son,'

Well, that would do, he thought, and he even smiled. It was strange using this term towards the child, but then – it wasn't unpleasantly strange, just strange, and as the boy would be his son soon – well, it fit.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was an hour later that he finally shook the boy awake, after he had placed the quill back on the table, atop the parchment he had just written on, and after he had folded the parchment Harry had written, to put it into the pocket of his robe. He surely did not do so out of sentimentality, as he easily could have left the parchment until Harry would give it to him, or as he easily could have placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. No – he only did so, because he hadn't corrected it yet, and he didn't want it getting lost – or forgotten – before he had covered the blasted miscreant's composure in red ink.

"It's late, Harry." He said while gently shaking the boy. "Get up, child … no, you can't sleep here at that table … you would just feel stiff and achy tomorrow … up you get, child … that's it … the mattress definitely will be more comfortable … what are you doing, child … no, you won't stay awake now … it's in the middle of the night … go back to sleep … just close your eyes brat …"

Well, never wake a peacefully sleeping child … that much was for sure and next time he would leave the blasted imp to sleep on the table for the entire night, enjoying the stiff and achy muscles the brat would suffer from the next day. What however didn't help him much right now … as the boy –

"Sir?"

"What is it, brat?" He asked with an annoyed sigh.

"What would have been if I had been sorted into your house?" The boy wanted to know, looking up at him sleepily.

"Then you would have been a Slytherin." He growled at the boy, not really sounding annoyed but rather good heartedly.

He could hear Theodore on his other side snickering softly at his response, and with a frown he turned towards the other boy.

"One would think that small children such as you brats should be asleep at such an hour." He drawled. "Are you waiting for a bedtime story? Maybe a bottle of milk? And me covering you with your baby blanket?" This time it was Harry who snickered softly.

"Only if I get my binky." The boy grinned cheekily at him, and he couldn't help choking with shock at alone that word – yes, so much for him torturing children – it rather seemed to be the other way round right now, and them torturing him.

"Surely you are familiar enough with my person by now that you know – you won't be so lucky." Severus Snape the dungeons bat drawled. "I would hide your … your … binky … and let you alone with neither a bottle of milk nor your baby blanket to cuddle with."

"You're mean." Draco's voice piped up and the Potions Master groaned.

"That is my job, Mr. Malfoy." He growled. "How else could I ensure having a bit of fun?"

"So, torturing small children such as us is your idea of fun, Professor?" Theodore asked, giving a tired smile away.

"Actually yes – the smaller they are the more fun it is torturing them." Severus smirked.

"Sir?" Came Harry's voice again, and again it sounded too small for his liking. Not tiredly small but scared small, insecure small and he turned towards the teen.

"I would have been able to help you sooner." He finally answered, knowing that the boy would repeat his earlier question. "And never mind my motivations, my view of you or my emotions towards you, do not one second doubt the support I would have given."

"Would you really have known if I had been in your house?" The boy asked in his still so small voice, and he wondered – not for the first time – what had caused that particular thought in the child's head. The boy had mentioned in this foolish letter of his that he should have listened to the sorting hat. But – the sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor, not Slytherin. He'd been there, he'd heard the hat sorting the boy into the house of the lions – that, after all, was the reason as to why the sorting was a public thing, done in front of the entire school as witnesses.

"I would have known during the first week." He seriously answered. "And I would have taken actions to get you out of the Dursleys' house at once."

"Then I should have let the sorting hat place me in Slytherin." The boy murmured with a sigh that clearly spoke of regret.

Snape had been about to explain once more that he would have done so, never mind his view of him, that in fact as soon as he would have found out his view of him would have changed back then, just as it had changed right now in their present situation the moment he had found out, but upon the boy's words he stopped mid-thought and blinked at the teen, facing the child he had chosen to be his son, and he couldn't help gripping the small and thin shoulders with both his hands to look at him seriously, piercing him with his dark eyes, not caring right now that he startled the child.

"The sorting hat wanted to place you in Slytherin?" He asked, his voice incredulous, still blinking at the boy that could just give a scared nod away, and it took him another few moments to understand the implications of Harry's words.

"Of all the stupid things you have done over the years … Merlin! … you could have been mine …" Snape did not say anything else but simply pulled the still startled child close and wrapped his arms around the skeletal frame. So, that had it been, what had been running through the boy's mind lately. So, that had it been, what had caused him to ask that question in his letter earlier. So, that had it …

"What foolish notion had caused you to question the sorting hat's decision, child?" He asked a moment later, curiosity taking over.

"Well, in Diagon Alley, when Hagrid helped me getting my school things, he said that Voldemort had killed my parents, and then I've heard that he had been in Slytherin, and I didn't want to be in the same house as he had been. And on the train, I've met Ron and he had been the first friend I've ever had, and he had been sorted into Gryffindor."

"Both had been very understandable motivations, Harry and I apologize for questioning your reasoning." Severus said, massaging the boy's neck with his fingers. "It surely must have been very important to you, having Ronald as a friend when you never before did have one, and it only is logically that you did not want to be in the same house as the Dark Lord. I guess the thought of being in the same house as your parent's murderer, would have been a horrified idea for anyone. And nevertheless – at alone the thought of what could have been if you had been in my house …"

"I'm sorry." Came the boy's words when he trailed off, not finishing his sentence, words that were merely a sob than actual words and he gripped both the boy's shoulders and held him at arm's length, so that he could look at him closely.

"Harry, look at me." Severus demanded softly and Harry did as the Potions Master asked of him, looked up at the man, and he was startled at how soft and gentle the dark eyes were, those black eyes that normally had been so cold and hard.

"None of this is your fault, child." He said. "Neither could you have known that something good could have come out of it if you had been in my house, nor could you help your gut feeling in the first place, that told you to do the logical thing back then. Anyone would have chosen the same as have you. You did what you thought was the right thing. I am just glad that I found out at least now." He added, gently running his fingertips over the child's forehead. "And now go to sleep, you insufferable brat. And that goes for the two of you as well. And don't expect a goodnight story or a milk bottle – nor a … binky …"

Harry smiled up at him, surprised but not uncomfortable with the man's long fingers brushing over his forehead. He could feel himself slipping into sleep, coaxed by Severus' gentle fingers, and he truly couldn't remember when he had felt more content.

"As long as he doesn't try providing us with nappies …" He could hear Theodore whispering to Draco while the man settled behind him, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him while settling down for sleeping, and he couldn't help smiling.

"Don't!" He heard Draco whispering back. "He'd done that when I was little, and it still gives me the creeps."

"You know, Draco, I still do remember how to change nappies." He heard the man smirking. "I could try to re-freshen this particular skill if you are not quiet this instant."

"Good night, Severus." Came Draco's immediate reply.

"Good night, Professor." Theodore's voice answered at nearly the same time.

"Good night, Sir." Harry whispered quietly, smiling to himself.

"Good night, you insufferable brats."

And then there was silence in the potions classroom that was their prison for eight days now, that would be their prison for only Merlin knew how much longer, that perhaps would be their prison until death, but that – at the same time – had become some kind of heaven to them, too, because here, in this unlikeliest of all places, they had found family, friends and comfort, here, where they never would have expected to find such.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "twenty-one days"
dear foolish child, son

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like in the past, I have installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get points. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

Please also note that I have done a 'go over' concerning the house points as I have lost track over the years. I have them now saved in a chart where I can keep them easily updated – I have also installed a new category: Hogwarts, as one reader or another (Jostanos, just for example) prefers to review for Hogwarts itself instead of one of her houses … and who knows, perhaps one day a reader might come from another wizarding school to add their review … thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 54
Gryffindor 30
Ravenclaw 25
Hufflepuff 07
Hogwarts 17