Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 11th 2010

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
"A few days more" is the sequel to "Twenty-one days" – read and review this first or you wouldn't understand all that happens in this story.
The fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindor have survived their imprisonment in the potions classroom situated in the dungeons. How will they go on in all-day life after their survival? How will they manage to reintegrate into the castle's routine and their classes? How will they be able to go back to life at all? Watch how those who survived fight for their lives and for their peace.

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 …
But Hereweald Hrothgar does …

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 A few days more

"Do leave my background out of this discussion, Severus." The woman hissed at him, standing on toes to reach at least his shoulder.
"Hit a nerve, Septima?" He asked, still seriously, knowing that his usual sarcasm was out of place here – and knowing that he had, indeed, hit a nerve.
"That's not fair, Severus!" Septima hissed back, curling her hands into fists.
"No, it is not." He admitted. "But you have not been fair either from what I heard. I know that it might be hard for you to teach that particular class, that not only horrible memories are in the way, but your own stubborn belief that you have to be the master of any situation, too, that you have to prove whatever it is you think you have to prove, but you do not have to. You are here at Hogwarts, and noch back then in that cave where you have lost everything, your dignity included, and we all respect you for your person, not because you are a hard taskmaster, Septima. And especially do I, you know that. However – if you feel unable teaching this class with the necessary care and responsibility, then I suggest you say so from the beginning on, and then I will overtake this class in arithmancy."
"I am, Severus." The woman said, and he wasn't sure if her voice sounded angry or just scared.
"Then I expect you to act accordingly." He said, turning on his heels and leaving the classroom.
"Severus?" Septima's unsure voice called him back and he turned, wordlessly looking back at her. "Are you angry with me now?"
Taking a deep breath he took a quick step back into the classroom and towards the smaller woman.
"No, I am not, Septima." He answered, pulling his colleague close to fold his arms around the tense shoulders for a moment. "But no one hurts my students, not even you."
Merlin, why did always he have to pick up the shards behind people!

A few days more
Chapter eleven
Filch and the stone eater

Turning in his bed he sighed heavily, unable to close his eyes and sleep.

Severus had sent them to bed for their afternoon nap half an hour ago, and normally he would have fallen asleep long ago, but not today.

Last night he'd fallen asleep fairly well, he'd been so tired that he hadn't had any troubles with that, not this time, but since he had awoken in the morning he couldn't forget the Professor's words. All morning long had he thought of those words his dad had said to him the day before, after he'd taken him from herbology, after he'd taken him home, and after he had calmed down enough to finally understand what the man was saying.

He'd been embarrassed at first, horrified at the thought that something must have happened and he'd broken down in front of the entire class, apparently crying like a baby because he had still been crying then, when he'd been aware of his surroundings again, embarrassed about the man, apparently, having had carried him out of class to get him home, but a moment later it had been replaced with the feeling of – of something he wasn't able to describe even, of something he didn't even know what it was, but it had been so warm, and so safe, and so anything, it had been overwhelming. It had been – well, whatever it had been, it had been the fault of why he hadn't been able to stop crying, but his dad had just held him, had held him so safely in his arms, holding his head over his chest, running his fingers through his hair, he had felt safe like never, ever, in his life before.

Flashback

For a moment he wished that the man would just stop speaking, because the Professor's words were surely anything than helping, because the man's words made him just crying harder, but then he gave in to the care his father provided him with, relaxing into the embrace and soaking up the words his father whispered.

"Your way of thinking is not entirely wrong, child, and of course you would come to exact these connections, but you forget something, Harry." The man said, his soft voice velvet and deep, dark, but smooth like a silken blanket, as if the Professor covered him with his voice. "You forget that you are not alone anymore. In the past, your aunt has acted exactly as you understand now. She hated your mother because she was jealous of her gift, because she was jealous of the love your mother received from not only their parents but from me, too, from everyone around them, forgetting that it was her own fault. Petunia could have been loved just as much as Lily – if, just, she hadn't been such a vindictive character as she had actually been. Your mother always laughed, was always light-hearted, always smiling at people, and she was always kind and gentle. She has been the one who greeted people on the street with a smile on her lips, she was the one who infected other people with her laugher, and she was the one who comforted everyone with kind words, even her vindictive sister. Petunia wasn't like that. Petunia was always angry and unkind, her face not friendly and smiling but sour and angry, unhappy. She insulted Lily of being a witch, but she didn't mean it in the context of Lily simply being a person with magical abilities, but in a bad context, as an insult, and only because she was jealous, not understanding that Lily got more kindness with the kindness she gave than she, Petunia, forgetting that the way you are treading others you're treaded back. That she married Vernon Dursley, the director of a firm who called a lot of attention to himself, and who had a reputation to uphold, who was a vindictive character himself – it didn't help her own situation at all, and only worsened her jealousy, watching Lily being happy with Potter, while she herself was unhappy in her own marriage. Do not get me wrong, child. To my knowledge Vernon never hurt Petunia, not physically, but he demanded things of her, and he could be very unpleasant if his demands were not fulfilled. I think, Petunia learned that very quickly, and it only added to the jealousy she already felt of her sister. Of course, it would also add to the hate she had felt towards Lily – and in the end towards Lily's son, because Lily was happy and loved in her marriage as she had been in life general, while there was no love in Petunia's marriage – or life."

And still he was crying in the man's arm, finally knowing why aunt Petunia had hated his mother so much but not understanding why he would have to pay for it. But as if the man had read his thoughts, he continued speaking.

"If you hate someone so much like Petunia had hated Lily in the end, years and years of hate adding to other years of hate, then in the end you are unable to differentiate between that person and anything else that has to do with that person." The Professor said, pulling him even closer and he could feel the thumb of the man's hand on his neck running up and down his skin. "And you are quite close to the person Petunia hated, seeing that you are Lily's son. I have acted no better when it came to James and my hate of him, that had reflected towards you in later years, and again, I can only say how sorry I am. Your father had changed into a great man over the years, a man that had died for his family, to protect his wife and his son, he had fought in a war, had protected wizards, witches and muggles alike, and he had done great things in later years. He had, however, not always been like that. I won't tell you why your father and I had our differences, because James Potter is still your father, never mind what. He died protecting you, and I expect you to always honour his memory. Even I, will do so, because if your father had not done that sacrifice, I would not have you as my son now, because perhaps, you might have died back then."

"But you wouldn't ... you wouldn't know the dif-difference ... 'cause you ... 'cause you wouldn't know me and ... and you hadn't ..." Well, somehow he realized that his sobbing didn't make any sense anyway, and he stopped, squirming even deeper into the blackness that were his father's robes which promised safety and calmness.

"No, I would not know you if you had died back then." His father said, seriously, readjusting him so that he was laying there more comfortably. "And no, I would not have learned to know you like I have during the past month, and so no, I would not know what I had missed – but ... that is irrelevant because I do know you now, because I do love you more than you can imagine, more than I ever thought I could love someone, anyone, more than my own life, and now, now I know what I would have missed if you were not there. And therefore, I have to be grateful towards your father. Not to mention that, whatever reason for, with you becoming my son, the hate I have felt towards your father has vanished. I doubt that we would ever become friends if he were still alive, but I don't feel the need to hate him anymore now. Understanding you, seeing you, loving you – it has destroyed that need for hate, even though I don't know why."

End flashback

Turning again he remembered his father's words and what they had done to him, how they had made him crying even harder at the understanding of their meaning and – Merlin, somehow he would think that his dad loved it, to have him crying all over him, if he didn't know better, if he didn't know that his father was no one for emotional outbursts.

And yet, the man was so very good at causing them, those emotional outbursts – and at calming children.

Sighing he wondered if he should just go and get something to nibble on. They'd really had enough to eat lately, Severus made sure of that, and Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick, too.

Professor McGonagall had been very strange on Monday, during their first transfiguration lesson since – the tragedy of Hogwarts – which they had survived. But she's been alright today, having them handling themselves, and just watching them and reminding them to drink every now and then, but she had let them their ways in nibbling at a piece of apple during lesson, or in taking a short rest during the lesson in form of just leaning atop their desks with their arms and resting their heads over them for a moment.

It's been another thing with Professor Flitwick.

The charms teacher had held his lesson calmly – even though he noticed that Flitwick, too, didn't have them using any magic but stuck to the theory they had learned in the dungeons, talking about that, and explaining things, answering questions if they didn't understand one thing or another, before he'd had them packing their things away, and then taking a short rest and a small snack.

Flashback

"Professor Snape explained to us the difference between the epicure charm and the basic summoning charm like the accio charm, Professor Flitwick." He asked, wracking his brain. There were just some things that had happened in the dungeons during that three weeks which he didn't remember, not completely at least, as if he had been half asleep when it had been explained, or as if he'd been too tired to concentrate on everything back then, he wasn't really sure about that.

"And what is the difference between the two, Mr. Snape?" Professor Flitwick asked, hopping onto the stack of books and from there onto his desk to sit at the tabletop, leaning his elbows on his thighs, and for a moment the small professor looked so strange, relaxed, as if he weren't in a lesson at all but in a ... in a whatever it was he could be in, anything that was not a lesson, he didn't know.

"Well, any basic summoning charm like the accio is to be taught in every wizarding school, it's well, the basic charm." He said, frowning, trying to remember everything and hoping that he explained it well. "Every witch and wizard has to learn it, it's one of the most important charms which we learn in first year even, and everyone uses it, for everything. But there are a few things that would get spoiled or at least would lose some of the taste, or potency, if summoned by a simple charm and so some people, like gourmets for example, have developed the epicure charm to summon delicate things that shouldn't be summoned by an accio."

"Exactly, Mr. Snape, that will be five points to your house, whatever house that will be, I hope we will know that, soon." Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in delight, and he himself wondered the same, what would happen with them, with what they called their "house", with any lessons, with – with whatever ...

"Thank you, Professor." He said. "But, what I don't understand is, what does the Virginia charm has to do with all this?"

"Ah, good you asked, Mr. Snape." Professor Flitwick said. "Your father is the resident Potions Master at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Sure he is." He answered, and for a moment he was startled when he could feel pride rising in him at the thought, at the 'sure he is' he had agreed to Flitwick's question with, knowing for sure that his father was the resident Potions Master.

"Well, then have you ever seen Professor Snape summoning a potion or a potions ingredient?" The professor asked.

"Uhm, no, sir." He said, wracking his brain. It wasn't that Severus was his father since long, but he knew the Potions Master for long and no, he had never seen the man summoning anything in his potions classroom. He actually had never seen Snape using any kind of magic in his classroom at all except of a stirring charm sometimes – or a shield charm, if a cauldron was about to explode.

Back last year, when his father had overtaken the defense against the dark arts class, he had used magic quite often, actually. He had lit candles, the fire, he had closed the shutters and he had – well, turned their pages if they were dreaming along, and so he knew that his dad was capable of using magic. But he had barely used magic in the potions classroom. Maybe that had been the reason as to why they had been unable using magic down there at one point or another? Because it's been the potions classroom to begin with? A place that wasn't meant for a lot of magic? Or ... but no ... if that were so, then Severus wouldn't have been surprised ... but he had been.

He'd said he didn't know the reason for the magic being vanished, and surely not so quickly. He'd said that maybe – well, he'd said 'perhaps', because Severus never said 'maybe' – however, he'd said that ... if the dungeons were closed off hermetically, then of course it could happen that the magic was drained off the room, too, at one point or another. But one: it had happened too soon for that, and second: the dungeons hadn't been shut off hermetically or they would have run out of air and water, too, at one point or anther, which they hadn't. Only the magic had been drained, most likely the remaining magical strands in the classroom's air allowing a few spells until they had been used up.

"Any idea as to why not, Mr. Snape?" Professor Flitwick asked, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to get back on the track, something he had to do often lately, closing his eyes to get back to the subject.

"I don't know, sir." He said, feeling small suddenly.

"Ah, don't worry, my boy." The charms teacher said, and he couldn't help flinching at the word 'boy', remembering his uncle calling him 'boy' and frowning, again, he forced himself back to listen to the Professor's words. "Few know about the Virginia charm or about the delicacy of some potions concerning magic being used around them. Well, it's a charm that has been invented by an American, back in the 19th century. Back then, witches and wizards have already been brewing potions all around the world, and there had been this city called Virginia. There has been a small group of wizards, some of them being Potions Masters, trying to find new potions for everything, experimenting, they have been great scientists.

Unfortunately, their brewing had been a bit – let me say, chaotically. They didn't have much space, and of course they were always in danger of being seen, what caused them to do their brewing at, or near, the mountains, storing their ingredients in small huts they hid behind shields, and often they got in each other's ways with getting potions or potions ingredients. It had been so much easier to summon them and so they did. As I have mentioned, however, there are some potions or potions ingredients that don't do too well with being summoned, and so of course, they blew up their place every now and then – what not only was a danger to them, but was also a guarantee for them being discovered – even though I have to mention that through one of such explosions, they have discovered the first gold in the mountains, what had caused that gold rush in Virginia.

However, so, they had needed a solution and one day one of them had come up with one, with the Virginia charm. The funny thing about it was, the Virginia charm doesn't have its name from the town where it had been invented, but from the person – it's been the only witch in the group, Virginia Carson, who's been the one to invent it."

"And does it work like the others do, Professor?" Hermione asked and he nearly grinned. Of course, Hermione would still have a question.

"Yes, Miss Granger." The teacher said, hopping down from the table. "It is working just like the others, only that the incantation is not 'accio' but 'come potion' and then the name of the potion or potions ingredient, and that it won't interact with the potions ingredients, nor with the potions which are brewed. And now, why don't you take out your lunch packets? I know that Professor Snape had you packing sandwiches this morning and it would be a shame if you brought them back to him uneaten."

"Professor?" He asked while he took the sandwich from his book bag, smiling at the little man's antics.

"Yes, Mr. Snape?" Flitwick asked, getting a sandwich from his own book bag and taking a seat at his table.

"I've never seen ... my father using that charm, sir. Do you know why?" He asked, for a moment wondering how to name Severus in front of another teacher. But then – Severus was his father!

"Oh, that spell is indeed not often used by Potions Masters that know their field, since, let me say ... the past, about fifty years or so, I'm sure your father could give you a much more exact date than I, but sometimes there might be a situation in which it could even safe a Potions Master's life, even now, still, and so I am sure that your father does know about the charm."

End flashback

Well, eating their sandwiches in the charms classroom had been less awkward than taking meals in the great hall, it's been fun actually, they had joked around, and they had laughed together with the small and white-haired charms teacher, Professor Flitwick telling them about his heritage being half human and half goblin. After that they had packed their things and had wandered off to the transfiguration classroom, being there early even though they'd had enough time to walk over there slowly.

Turning in bed he sighed heavily before he got up, slowly and silently.

Not so easy had been their way to the great hall for lunch. Professor McGonagall had released them early so that they had enough time to go to the great hall without having to hurry and when they had passed the history of magic classroom Creighton had grabbed him from behind, hissing at him from behind, asking why they were out of class early.

Draco and Ron had tried to explain that Professor McGonagall had let them go early to the great hall for lunch so that they had enough time to eat in peace and without haste, but Creighton hadn't released him anyway, had started shaking him.

It's been just that moment when his dad had come up upon them, growling at Creighton to release him this instance and the man had, casting one last dark look at him before growling at Severus and walking past them. He'd seen Creighton pushing past Severus, his shoulder brushing Severus' shoulder roughly, and he hadn't understood. He still didn't understand, and he was still scared, kind of.

There had just been too many times someone had grabbed him from behind, and there had been just too many times someone had threatened him, too. He'd been just scared. Well, Severus had led them to the great hall and the matter had been closed, but he knew that his dad waited for one of them to address the topic, he knew his father well enough by now.

Shuddering he slipped out of his door.

It really wasn't that he was hungry, they'd really had enough to eat lately, more than he liked anyway and he often was ill after, even though his dad gave him the stomach soothing potions too, but they didn't help completely against the amount his father made him eating all the time.

So no, it really was not hunger that drove him out of his room, through the parlour and out of their quarters.

If he had really been hungry, then he could have gone to their own kitchen, could have taken a tangerine or something else. The kitchen was provided with tangerines because of him after all, because he had once mentioned to his dad how much he loved them and that he'd never had them until his first Christmas at Hogwarts, even though Severus had told him to not eat too much of them now, because his stomach surely would not take the fruit acid too well – but he could eat one whenever he wished to

And the ghost wasn't there either, seeing that it was broad daylight, and that ghost was only during nighttime in that bloody frame.

He'd been to the kitchen on the late evening two days ago to get a glass of water and that ghost had wailed on him, telling him that he had no dealings in the kitchen after nightfall. He'd tried to reason with the ghost, telling him that he hadn't known that they weren't allowed in the kitchen after curfew, but the ghost hadn't listened to him, had threatened to tell Severus, and so he hadn't tried again last night. It surely wasn't worth the trouble he could get into with his new father, he wasn't ready to lose his family so soon again.

But it wasn't curfew yet, and the ghost wasn't in that frame of his either now either.

But – he just had to know if he could still go to the school kitchens.

He had to know if he could still get food from there, just in case ... just in case that something happened – that, maybe, he might get lost, that, maybe, they might be locked out of their new home, or that, maybe, he might be thrown out. After all, if they could be locked in, then surely they also could be locked out, couldn't they? And what if Severus got mad at him again? When that ghost spoke to him about his visit to the kitchen after curfew? And what if Severus threw him out of the house then? He wasn't a Gryffindor anymore after all. Where would he go then?

He just needed to be sure that there was another place where he would be able to get something to eat from.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was strange, since he was down here, in these new quarters and together with the children – everything had changed, but it hadn't changed for the bad but for the good. He would have never believed it, if anyone would have told him before now, but he actually enjoyed it, having the children around, and he didn't even feel the need of closing the door to his study while sitting here and grading essays, the door being open and allowing him a view of their 'common room', of their living room.

It showed him that there was life around him, that there were children that might have had died not so long ago but hadn't, children that had in their own way fought death, and they were living, were in their own way spreading life even to him, who had never before allowed himself to really live.

Leaning back in his armchair behind the desk he looked up from one of his essays, and through the open door into the living room, frowning, watching Harry leaving their quarters, the boy sneaking out like a thief, clearly scared, as if he were to do something forbidden, and for a moment he considered calling on him – but then he decided against it.

If he was to ever trust his son, then he best got started right now and seeing that it was not curfew yet, but daylight, the boy could, of course, leave their quarters.

So he went back to grading his papers.

It wasn't however easy to concentrate on any grading with that son of his on his mind. Harry had a way of drawing his attention to him, a way of causing him to worry, never mind if there really was reason to worry or not. The child, being too small for his age, far too small, too thin, too scared, and too weak, physically at least – even if there was no immediate danger near that child – and from experience he knew that there was always one or another danger near that particular child – well, even without, there always was a reason to worry.

Petunia.

Why had Petunia abused her nephew so badly?

He could understand that she had hated Harry, he knew best how hate worked in a human mind after all, but to abuse someone the way she had? The way she had allowed her husband to? How could she have hated Lily as much as she had, her own sister? Of course, Harry had never understood that, had never understood how his aunt and uncle could hate him so much, how they could have hurt him so much while he had been forced to watch them loving his cousin. How could the boy have understood that, while not even he could understand it fully?

Flashback

"If you hate someone so much like Petunia had hated Lily in the end, years and years of hate adding to other years of hate, then in the end you are unable to differentiate between that person and anything else that has to do with that person." He Professor said, sighing. "And you are quite close to the person Petunia hated, seeing that you are Lily's son. I have acted no better when it came to James and my hate of him, that had reflected towards you in later years, and again, I can only say how sorry I am. Your father had changed into a great man over the years, a man that had died for his family, to protect his wife and his son, he had fought in a war, had protected wizards, witches and muggles alike, and he had done great things in later years. He had, however, not always been like that. I won't tell you why your father and I had our differences, because James Potter is still your father, never mind what. He died protecting you, and I expect you to always honour his memory. Even I, will do so, because if your father had not done that sacrifice, I would not have you as my son now, because perhaps, you might have died back then."

"But you wouldn't ... you wouldn't know the dif-difference ... 'cause you ... 'cause you wouldn't know me and ... and you hadn't ..."

"No, I would not know you if you had died back then." He said when it was clear that the child didn't go on with his sentence. "And no, I would not have learned to know you like I have during the past month, and so no, I would not know what I had missed – but that is irrelevant because I do know you now, because I do love you more than you can imagine, more than I ever thought I could love someone, anyone, more than my own life, and now, now I know what I would have missed if you were not there. And therefore, I have to be grateful towards your father. Not to mention that, whatever reason for, with you becoming my son, the hate I have felt towards your father has vanished. I doubt
that we would ever become friends if he were still alive, but I don't feel the need to hate him anymore, now. Understanding you, seeing you, loving you – it has destroyed that need for hate, even though I don't know why."

"You ... you've been jealous too ... you've been ... you've been jealous of my father 'cause ... 'cause of me ..." The boy joked out between his sobs and for a moment he looked down, startled. Harry couldn't know how much he had loved Lily. Harry couldn't know how much he had hated James for stealing Lily from him, how much he had ... how much he had wished that Lily's child would be – his … his and Lily's … Harry couldn't know ...

And yet, that child had cut it clean through the truth, where he had never seen it that way, the child had needed but a few minutes to realize just that – he had been jealous, and not only because of Lily, but because of the boy himself, too, because Harry had been James' son and not his, a fourteen year old teenager ... and he saw the truth after only a few moments, where he, the adult, had not seen it for years.

"You might be not so far from the truth, Harry." He softly said, relaxing back into the pillows on the boy's bed and pulling the child with him. "I have not told you yet, but I loved your mother deeply. We were more than just friends and I always thought, hoped, that one day there could be more than just friendship. When we grew older, into teenagers, there actually was more, back then. It wasn't really love, not in the way like married people, but there was something between us, something that was about to grow into the love between two people that could live together forever. And then, we've become young adults, and there had been more – your mother and I, we've become a couple, and we moved together, were living an a small flat in Diagon Alley, until one evening, I have come home, and you mother had been gone, had ended up with, your father of all people

From that moment on the dislike between your father and me had grown into hate, a foolish hate that held no justification for its existence even. Over the years I have watched them, seeing that I have still been in close contact with your mother, and the moment I have learned of you, of your mother being pregnant – you don't know how close you are with your ... perhaps, you are, Harry, because perhaps yes, perhaps I was jealous, perhaps I have always felt that this child of Lily's should be mine, and not James'."
"But then ... why did you hate me, then?" The boy still sobbed. He had become calmer, much calmer, the soft sobs lessening to a mere hiccupping, but he wasn't entirely calm yet.

"Because the human race tends to hate that, what they yearn for, but cannot have." He said, taking a deep breath. "I couldn't have Lily, but I couldn't bring myself to hate Lily, I still loved her too much – instead there was her husband whom I could hate, a natural reaction. Later, when you were born, I couldn't have you either, but as you were newly born, having never been loved by me once, I started hating you, too, because I couldn't have you while I yearned – while I yearned you being mine, a child, a son, I could have had with Lily. It had been foolhardy jealousy and nothing else, and I can never apologize enough for what I have done to you."

End flashback

And it had taken a child to show him that, to have him seeing reason, a foolish child.

Huffing at his own sentimentality he placed his quill on his desk and stood, taking a deep breath. The children would be awake in about half an hour, and so he should get a move on if he wished to be back by then, and a second time he huffed.

Children! He thought while leaving their quarters.

They were no children, not really at least, not in the sense of wizarding law. They were teenagers, young adults soon. Rubbish!

Of course, they were children still. Fourteen-year-old children, twelve-year-old children and even Cameron was one, a sixteen-year-old child because sixteen was not the age of adulthood, of mature decisions and behaviour. A sixteen year old had not enough life experience to be considered an adult yet, and a sixteen year old had surely no experience in life either.

Getting up to the upper levels of the dungeons he shook his head.

With sixteen they just discovered their bodies, learned about their emotions that ran wild, had to make life changing decisions about their future careers, and they discovered love, had to fight with teachers and other students their own age, about proving their own strength and other stupid fears. With sixteen they had their entire life still before them – and often no one to help them.

He was just about to make his way up the stairs towards the livelier parts of the castle and towards the library when he heard a scream that had his blood running cold and quickly he turned back into the direction where he had come from. He turned towards the kitchens and towards where the scream had come from instead of the lower parts of the dungeons where they had their quarters, feeling a mixture of horror and anger.

He knew that scream, the child that had screamed.

Harry.

Turning around the corner he stopped mid-step, giving away an angry growl.

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He knew that it had been foolish to come here and get that pear, he could have gotten that exact fruit at their kitchen at home, too, but he was happy anyway, because now he knew that – there were still the school kitchens, and because he knew that – he could still come here for something to eat if it came to the worst.
Still the image of ...

A hand grabbing him from behind had him giving away a startled scream, and he clutched the pear he was holding close to his chest, or he would have lost it, and for a moment he was sure that it was Creighton again. The man had grabbed him just before lunch today, and it had felt the same, it had felt terrifying.

"Unhand that boy, Filch!" A harsh voice suddenly ordered from behind and – again, just like a few hours ago – Harry couldn't help sighing with relief. Again, his father was here to save his sorry behind.

"Not this time, Professor!" Filch said, smirking and tightening the grip he had on his upper arm so that Harry nearly cried out with the pain. "Caught him red handed stealing food from the school kitchens. He'll pay this time. He'll be in ... chains this time."

"As far as I am aware, Filch, it is not yet illegal for the students to carry food with them, nor going the kitchens for a snack." His father growled darkly, and Harry immediately knew that the Professor was trying to keep his voice calm. "And now, unhand that boy, right now!"

Severus Snape levelled his dark eyes at the idiot of caretaker, using his most piercing stare possible, until Filch did, even if reluctantly only, and even if he did with an accusing, betrayed stare at him, Snape, who had, up to now, always overtaken the students he had caught for punishments, and the Potions Master threw a furious glance at the man upon which the caretaker quickly strolled away, down the corridor, and with Miss Norris running close behind him with her tail straight in the air as if to say – 'next time'.

Looking down at the trembling child, standing there and clutching a pear to his chest as if his life depended on the fruit, he took a deep breath to calm his own nerves.

"If it's not me, then it's Filch or another teacher – do you always have to get into trouble, Mr. Snape?" He asked a moment later, when the caretaker was out of ear shot, placing his hand at his son's shoulder.

"I'm trying, Professor, really." The boy said and at once Snape knew – Harry was desperate and more than just a little bit scared. There was no 'dad' or 'Severus' not even a 'sir' but a 'Professor'. The boy had used the term 'dad' more often lately, aside from 'Severus', and he only rarely called him 'sir' anymore, only if he was in class or if he knew that the situation was serious – or that he was in trouble one way or another. But for the boy to call him by his title – 'Professor' – it was one very huge step backwards – and one he didn't like at all.

"I do know that, Harry." He sighed, watching the boy rubbing his upper arm where Filch had held him. "Come, child." He softly added, leading the boy downstairs, and back into their own refuge, into their quarters and into his study. "I would like to have a look at your arm."

"I'm sorry, Professor." The boy said and he took another deep breath to keep himself from addressing the 'professor-issue'. "I just ... I just needed to know ... well ... just in case ..."
"There is no need to apologize." He calmly said while seating the boy on the chair in front of his desk. "I do understand your reasoning, and there is no rule that forbids you to visit the school kitchen. Undress your shirt, Harry." He added, turning towards the medicine chest to get a salve that would help with any eventual bruising.

"I'm sorry though." The boy said, softly, as if he felt the need to explain himself. "I just needed to know ..."

"You just needed to know if you could still go to the school kitchens for something to eat, just in case, am I correct?" He asked when the boy stopped, turning back towards his son who slipped out of the shirt.

"Yes, Professor." Came the soft answer, nearly a whisper.

"There is no need to fear the worst-case scenario, Harry." He just as softly explained. "Because I won't go back on my offer. You have a home now, and that home does have a kitchen. You are allowed to get food from there whenever you want, Harry, you do know that, don't you?"

There was no answer, just the boy frowning while he had a look at the bruise that formed over the child's upper arm where Filch had grabbed him roughly, and he frowned himself.

"Harry?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at his son, watching the pale face closely. Surely the idiot child did know that he could go to their kitchen whenever he wanted to get something to eat.

"Professor?" The idiot child asked back, and he turned his head an inch or two, to better concentrate on the brat.

"You do know that, Harry?" He asked again. "That you are allowed in the kitchen of our quarters whenever you want, do you not?"

"Well ... yes ...?" Was the answer, but it was such an unsure answer, more a question than anything else that he released the boy's arm and stepped in front of his son, kneeling down on one knee.

"Harry?" He asked again. "I would like to hear the truth from you, and you do not sound as if you were so sure about being allowed in our kitchen to get food whenever you want."

"Well ... it's just ..." The boy started but then averted his eyes.

"It's just what?" He asked, suddenly sure about the answer.

"You know what's blue, small and loves pebbles?" Harry then asked, looking up at him with his large green eyes and a smile on his pale face, a smile that was a smile clearly forced out and he took a deep breath.

"I do doubt that right now is the time for any joke about the stone eater." He seriously said. "I would rather like to hear your answer to my question, Harry, and no diversion. I do wish to get answers to anything I ask, and I do wish to get true answers. Not to mention that if you are unsure about anything concerning our lives, then you should ask about it. And now I am far more interested in your answer than in the stone eater."

"Alright." The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry. It's just ... well ... I've been to the kitchen on Monday night, after curfew ... I didn't mean to sneak around, really, Professor ... I just wanted to get a glass of water, I swear ... really ..."

"Harry." He calmly said when the child's breathing started to get irregular with clear fear, placing his hand atop the child's knee in a calming manner. The boy, anyway, flinched upon the touch. "Calm down, you are not in trouble, neither for getting a glass of water nor for getting something to eat, even if it is past curfew. This is your home, child, you are allowed to visit the kitchen if you are hungry, even if it is in the middle of the night."

"But ... but the ghost ... he said ... the ghost said I had no dealings in the kitchen after nightfall." The boy softly said, and he nearly seethed with anger. "And he'd threatened to tell you and ... and I didn't want to lose you ... and ... and I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to ..."

"Stop." He softly said, increasing the pressure of his hand on the boy's knee. "I know that you didn't mean to do anything wrong – and you didn't do either. You did absolutely nothing wrong, child. You are allowed to go to the kitchen never mind the day- or night-time. You are allowed to have a snack whenever you want, there is no need for you to go hungry ever again, child, not while you are living under my roof and under my protection. And concerning that ghost, I will have a clear word with him – or he will be taken off his nail. I'll cut his canvas off its frame if necessary. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir." Came Harry's answer, the boy sounding very relieved, looking very relieved, too.

"Good – and now, what is it, that is blue, small and loves pebbles?" He asked, just to get the strain off the situation, even though he already knew the answer to this yet another silly question.

"What?" The boy asked, confused, looking up at him as if he, Snape, had lost his mind, and he lifted his eyebrow.

"That blue and small thing of yours that loves pebbles, what is it?" He asked. "That thing with which you wanted to divert me earlier."

"Oh ..." The boy made, blinking up at him, owlishly. "Uhm ... well ... it's the little brother from the big, blue stone eater."

"I should have known." He sighed, shaking his head. "Of course, it would be the little brother from the big, blue stone eater."

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To be continued

Next time in A few days more
Nocturnus arensentia lupin

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, of course I have re-installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

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

Slytherin 95
Gryffindor 53
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01