Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 13th 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

"Yes, Harry." He sighed, knowing the child's line of thinking. "But the basilisk is not to compare with this animal here. The basilisk had been the bonded animal of Salazar Slytherin a thousand of years ago, and back then the basilisk might have been there for the protection of the snakes, of the Slytherins, too, but with the death of Salazar Slytherin the animal was alone, without a Master, alone, and nine hundred years are a long time. The animal must have gone crazy even though it had been in a kind of hibernation for a long time. The one Master who awoke him then, had been the Dark Lord, and of course the basilisk, after nine hundred years of loneliness, influenceable and weak, of course he went dark, grateful to his new Master, doing his biddings. You did not kill an innocent animal but a predator that would have killed half the school, you included, Harry. You did what you had to do, and even though it shouldn't have happened in the first place, it was not your fault. We all, the adults, we should have made sure that it didn't happen. If anyone is at fault for the animal's death, then are we and surely not you. Do you understand?"
"But why is this the house of Wolvenhowl, uncle Severus?" Draco asked. "If you are the fifth founder, and from what I understand you are, then this should be the house of Snape, shouldn't it?"
"And what would this do to all of you?" He asked, sighing, watching the wolf approaching child for child, watching them bonding, watching the children falling asleep as soon as they had finished the bonding. "My name holds a bad reputation, and it would only come down towards you. I might be a – kind of – founder, but that doesn't mean anything now, thousands of years after Hogwarts' foundation. The old times are long gone, Draco, and I am only a latecomer, not one of the original founders. The castle has instructed me to name this house Wolvenhowl instead of Snape and that does make it valid."
"Wolvenhowl doesn't sound so … charming." Draco complained, sighing. "Couldn't it have been Wolf Warrior or something like that?"
"And surely Hufflepuff didn't sound so charming either, back then, but Hogwarts has named that house, and so be it." He said. "Be proud about it, Draco, because no one else, now, has the chance to be the first children in a newly founded house, ot to actually bond with their blazon animal."

A few days more
Chapter thirteen
A moody reporter and defense with Moody

The next morning came, and it was clear – it was official now, there was a new house and even the large house glasses that showed the house points showed: Wolvenhowl already had collected twenty-one points, causing students of other houses to take an extra look at the now fifth house, and during breakfast whisper ruled in the great hall – again. As if there wasn't already enough whisper in the great hall.

"I want you all to be very careful today." The Potions Master said, clearly getting some of the children out of their thoughts, causing them to blink at him. "Alastor Moody is not to be underestimated. That man has been a capable auror once, one of the few capable aurors actually – even I have to admit that, but he is strange, and he surely does not have all his senses. I am sure that he will demand more from you than what you are able to achieve, and you should look out for each other. No heroic deeds and no overestimating yourselves. I want you to come and get me the moment you feel that you are pushed beyond your limits."

"I've heard of Moody." Ronald said, frowning and he nodded. Of course, the boy would have heard about Moody, Arthur Weasley had been one of the few who had to get the ex-auror out of trouble every now and then. "They say he's called Mad Eye Moody, and they say that he's lost his mind, that he has his name with a reason."

"I fear that 'they' are correct, Ronald, whoever 'they' are." He said, sighing.

"Dunno, just heard what dad said." The boy said in a voice as if he had to apologize for people talking and him listening. "And the twins."

"He does have his name for a reason, and I do have a reason for asking you to be careful with that man. I have heard nothing worrying from the Slytherins so far and they would be the first who would inform either me or Professor Hrothgar. I cannot say the same about Professor Creighton, however, and I want you to be very careful in his class, too. Do not give him any reason to punish you, not the slightest reason at all, do you hear?"

"Dad?" Harry asked unsurely, clearly scared, and he locked his dark eyes with the boy's green ones.

"You do not have to worry, Harry." He said, trying to sound reassuring. "He cannot abuse any of you. He might give you detention or he might give you extra work to do, he even might inform me about any misdeeds, but he cannot punish you physically."

"'k." The boy said, but he clearly could hear it in the teen's voice – and see it in his face – it was not 'ok' and he sighed. He wouldn't be able to reassure the boy completely, he knew that. Previous experience had taught the boy too well.

"Well, at least it's defense today." Draco said. "I've been looking forward to that, now, that Harry and I are not on opposite sides anymore. It'll be interesting."

"Yes, I fear it might get – interesting." He mused, narrowing his eyes at both boys.

In their magic, both, Harry and Draco, they definitely had been equals from the beginning on.

And their dueling skills had been far beyond that of any seventh-year student at the end of last year, Harry's, as well as Draco's. Even he, Severus, had to admit that, seeing that he'd had enough chances to watch them dueling in their stupid rivalry, while their knowledge of spells – charms, as well as hexes, and curses – had been impressive. Frowning he realized that – if Draco's arrogance – which he had inherited from his idiot father – hadn't prevented a solid friendship developing between the two boys, they could have been brilliant together. Instead, they had become rivals who had fought hell and devil just in order to beat each other.

"And when will that press conference be, which you have mentioned, Severus?" Neville asked, sounding just as worried as Harry had a moment before.

"During potions, Neville." He answered, glad that the shy boy had not reverted back to calling him Professor Snape after they were out of that dungeon prison. "I won't have any of you missing your physical exercises because of an idiot reporter asking for a press conference to annoy the hell out of me. Your day will be hard enough with Moody and Creighton, I guess, and I can give up one potions class, in order to prevent you giving up a class that is important for your health."

"I'd have preferred potions to PE." Gregory whispered, leaning towards Vincent who nodded in agreement, and he took a deep breath, swallowing a comment. Of course, these two would complain. Even Emma and Neville weren't as grumpy as Gregory and Vincent when it came to the subject of PE, and Emma and Neville surely were anything else than happy about these sixty minutes of physical exercises every evening.

Well, he would wait until after the press conference for any decisions made, because after that, they might be too exhausted and tired for anything else than just sitting together in their dungeons home anyway.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You better be silent, Snape." Professor Moody said, sharply, and he frowned. He hadn't even started asking Draco about any teacher having the permission to use the unforgivables at Hogwarts, Moody having demonstrated the imperious curse on a spider, and he had just leaned backwards in his chair, towards the blond boy a bit. "It might be that you survived the killing curse, but that does not make you an expert who doesn't have to learn anything about them anymore, Snape. Maybe we practice this little spell on you? Just to get your arrogance a notch down. Let's see about your resilience when it comes to the imperious curse."

A moment later he could hear the clear command in his head to jump upon the table while at the same time he could feel the absolute urge to obey that very command. Anyway, he knew what it was, that it was Moody using the imperious curse on him, an unforgivable, and he frowned, concentrating on not obeying that command.

He was scared like never before, knowing that he disobeyed a clear order – and not even one from his uncle but one coming from a wizard who was using an unforgivable on him, knowing what that wizard was capable of if he used an unforgivable on a living person, on a student, and despite the knowledge to end up in Azkaban upon using such a curse on a student … and he knew what that wizard would be capable of to punish him if he so wished, while at the same time he felt rage soaring through his body and his mind, rage that helped him in his determination to not obey that order.

Why did Moody use an unforgivable on him anyway? It was forbidden, at least to his knowledge. It was a thing not done and why was it always him anyway who had to beat all odds, who had to bear unforgivables, who had to bear the hate of one teacher or another?

And no one better told him that Moody didn't hate him, because he had seen the same hate in that man's eyes – at least in the one eye that wasn't moving like mad – he had seen in Severus' eyes in the past.

And he had heard the same loathing in the man's voice. Not to mention that Moody seemed to use the same kind of speech towards him as Severus had used. He'd lived with the Dursleys who hated him to no end, and he'd had a teacher who'd hated him to no end, he did know what hate was after all, if not he, then who?

A moment later he felt the pain in his knees and in his left wrist when he landed on the floor.

Apparently a part of him had tried to jump onto the table while a different part of him had tried to not jump.

"You call that an effort, Snape?" Moody growled. "I'm sure that a squib could make a better effort than the poor attempt you just showed. Well, let's try again, imperio."

Not really understanding he tried again to not obey the very command, the one command that seemed his only focus, that seemed to take all the 'yes' and 'no', all the 'maybe', all the 'should I' or 'should I not', all the indecisions, all the insecurities away, the command that seemed to make everything so much easier if he just followed, if he just obeyed.

He could hear Draco's voice calling out for the teacher to stop, he could hear Hermione saying that it was forbidden, and he could hear Cameron saying something about telling Severus, Ron saying something about going to the headmaster, and he could hear Adrian crying.

Again a moment later he felt pain exploding in his chest when he fell onto the edge of the table, the hard wood robbing his breath for a few seconds and he ended up sitting at the floor, gasping for breath, hissing in pain when he tried to run his hand over his chest to get rid of the pain, to get some breath into his lungs.

The next thing he realized was Cameron and Draco kneeling beside him.

"Let's get you to Severus." Cameron calmly said but despite the calm voice he could see the other boy's hands trembling.

"I'm fine." He gasped. "Just forget it, I'm fine, and dad would just get angry."

"Yes, but not at you." Cameron said. "You'll get into trouble if you don't ask for Severus' help, Harry. He'll want to know about this."

"Nothing happened, Cameron, I'm fine." He croaked out, trying to smile at the older boy.

"Of course nothing happened, Harry, you idiot!" Draco called, clearly upset, the blond boy's voice trembling. "A teacher just cast an unforgivable at you, several times, and you claim that nothing happened, I start to see why your relatives had been able to ... you're an idiot! You ..."

"That is enough, gentlemen." Moody's voice broke through the crowd. "Sit down, all of you, and stop that whimpering Snape. You're not better than your father, a small, little, whimpering Snivellus, trying to get other people into trouble with your pitying sniveling. Maybe you will just try a bit harder next time, if that is possible for you. Your real father would be ashamed of you. James Potter would turn in his grave at the sad display you have shown, as well as for his son becoming a mini-death-eater in training. From a Snape however, one couldn't expect more than that."

Well, if later anyone asked him a question about the lesson, he wouldn't have been able to give an answer, even if his life had depended on it, because the remainder of the lesson he was sitting there, halfway numb, Moody's words never leaving his mind, Moody's words re-playing in his mind over and over again, and he knew – not even Severus in his worst times would have hurt him as much as that man here had.

Of course, he realized immediately that – yet again – he was the subject of hate someone felt towards his father, towards his adopted father this time, but again it was hate not directed towards him, but towards his father, and he had to pay for it. Was that normal? Would it always be like that? Why did people always have him paying for his fathers? Or for his mother, in aunt Petunia's case, for his parents? It was unfair!

He had liked defense, but he knew that the subject would become what potions had been for him for the past three years.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, if he had thought that it might get better – or that it, at least, wouldn't get worse – then he had been a fool.

Luckily however he did remember his past encounters with Professor Creighton – not to mention that he had still the warning of his father in his mind – and so he knew that, at least, it wouldn't get better.

However, he had hoped that it wouldn't get worse – in vain, but one could always hope.

Moody hadn't allowed them to eat the cereal bars Severus had them packing in the morning and the fear of being late for Creighton's class had kept them from eating the cereal bars on their way from the defense classroom to the history classroom – not to mention that Moody hadn't given them any time to rest or to relax a bit. He had startled – and exhausted – them with sudden attacks, telling them that they had to be prepared, always – "constant vigilance" he had called out each time he had attacked one of them – and the man had glared at them angrily when Ron and Cameron had told him that there were some that weren't allowed doing magic yet, like Harry, Theodore, Draco and Adrian.

Moody, however, had just doubled his attacking then, always calling out that he would not support their weakness, that he would not coddle anyone, that they had to wake up, finally, because no Death Eater would coddle them in reality.

And now Creighton's class had just started, the man droning on about the rules in his class, and that he would not allow them to bend his rules, never mind what – and he was already exhausted beyond anything he had ever felt.

Of course, he knew that surely down there in the dungeons he had felt more exhausted than what he felt now, but right now it was a current feeling, and right now he felt as if it were hell. He was tired, his stomach was cramping, his chest hurt, and he wanted nothing else than just closing his eyes and resting for a few minutes. Just a few minutes. And history of magic had started just half an hour ago, they had still an hour left.

Looking around he could see the others being just as tired, being just as exhausted, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes dark and their fingers shaking.

Adrian flinched at every word Creighton hissed out sharply, the man's general voice being filled with anger and dissatisfaction, with disappointment and with displeasure, a man that didn't like his own skin, and therefore hating anyone else just as much. That, at least, was what he thought.

Ron looked angrily back at the man, as did Cameron, and he knew that both boys were close to asking Creighton for a pause. Hermione was soaking in every word the teacher said, like always, even though she looked as if she forced herself to listen.

"The savior of the wizarding world, the chosen one." Creighton hissed out, and he was startled at the sudden closeness of the man's voice, snapped his eyes open and up at the man.

Had he fallen asleep? He had been awake, watching the others, hadn't he? Or had he really fallen asleep for a second or two?

"What a pitying view, the chosen one falling asleep in a lesson!" The man hissed, leaning his hands at his table and leaning close to him. For a moment he even wondered if that man could read his thoughts and might have seen a memory of Severus doing exactly that in his third year. But, of course, it was stupid, because people couldn't read minds or view memories, and so it was just coincidence, nothing else. "I won't allow any student to fall asleep in my lessons, Potter." The man hissed, and he couldn't help the fear creeping up his spine. "Maybe, if we teach you a lesson, it will be enough for all of you to remember in future. Get off your chair, boy, move your nose into that corner, and place your hands behind your neck. Maybe, standing during your lesson, will teach you to stay awake in future."

He shook his head warningly towards Ron, Draco and Cameron when they started to protest and just got off his chair, walking over to the corner Creighton was pointing at.

He knew what the man was doing, namely making an example, and he was sure that never mind what, Creighton would have done it anyway, he had been looking for a reason, and he would have found one thing or another, and he was glad that it was him and not Adrian, Miles or Emma. The younger children surely wouldn't have been able to deal with it.

And he knew what would come.

He wasn't stupid after all and thirteen years living at the Dursley's household had taught him enough. He knew that Creighton would have him standing there for the entire hour, and he knew that soon his entire body would feel as if being on fire, starting with the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back.

He didn't fear the stupidity of having to look at a wall for an hour, he knew enough things to keep his mind busy with for an hour, but he knew that standing there with his hands behind his neck for such a long time, would be hell.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Throwing the quill down at the table he stood to go and meet the children at the great hall.

Damn Albus, the ministry, and any magical contracts, including Maxime and Karkaroff, but most importantly, damn Fudge. How could they – after two hundreds of years – re-establish the Triwizard tournament? After a cockatrice the champions had been supposed to be catching went on the rampage, during the last tournament that had been held in 1792, and all three school champions had died? Not to mention all those, children that had died during triwizard tournaments before that? How could they be so stupid to re-establish the tournament again now? And even bringing in dragons for that event?

Alright – they did have the courtesy to keep underage students from partaking, but even a seventeen year old student was far too young for such a thing like the triwizard tournament – and dragons! What had they been thinking, in Merlin's name!

Of course, he didn't have to bother that any of his children would have to partake, because mone of them was seventeen yet, they were far too young to place their names into the goblet of fire, and he knew that Albus was doing an age-line, as would he do, and one with a potion, seeing that Albus was doing one with a spell.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't worried. He knew that there were some of his Slytherins that were eager to prove themselves in a competition like that.

Entering the great hall he noticed the tense mood at the table of their house at once, and he narrowed his eyes at them one by one, trying to find out what trouble they had gotten into, now. His eyes came to a halt at Harry the moment he noticed the boy's exhaustion. The pale face had lost nearly all remaining colour, the green eyes were shaded with dark rings, and the thin arms and shoulders were trembling uncontrollably.

"What happened?" He asked without greeting, softly, placing his hand on the trembling shoulders. He didn't like the flinch he got immediately, but just one look was enough so that he knew anyway, the trembling itself was not caused by fear but came from exhausted muscles. "Ronald?" He asked his prefect.

"It's been Professor Creighton." The boy said, and inwardly he already seethed with anger at the idiot man – again. "Professor Moody kept us all on the edge with his attacks and after I've told him that Harry and a few others weren't supposed to use magic – or magic being used upon them – he continued with bangs to simulate his attacks, always calling out 'constant vigilance' and telling us that the Death Eaters wouldn't coddle us. We've been tired and we didn't have any time to rest before Creighton's class, and Harry closed his eyes during history, just for a second."

"Continue, Ronald." He said when the boy stopped speaking, his eyes scanning the staff table, looking for both teachers, while he remembered the man's words just a few days ago.

"Bear in mind, Snape, that I won't allow any student to fall asleep in my lessons, no exceptions."

"I will make sure of it, Creighton. I just cannot promise your class being visited regularly by all the students, in that case, and you better be silent, Moody, because I do know what you are doing to my students during detention!"

From the Slytherins he knew that Moody was a strange teacher, more demanding than he should be during class, but nearly coddling during detention while he had the students in a one to one situation, strange really, and generally harmless. But he should have kept them from visiting Creighton's class to begin with, never mind what Albus had said.

"Well, Professor Creighton had Harry standing in the corner, with his hands behind his neck, and for the remainder of the lesson." Ronald softly said while Harry murmured a soft "sorry" from beneath the huddle that was his arms, hands and head.

"And that was how long, Ronald?" He asked, starting to massage his son's tense shoulders.

Harry was actively partaking in all of their meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as the snacks between. He was sleeping a lot, and he was doing the exercises in the gym he had installed in the dungeons for them especially. He also had the children walking through the grounds once a day, around the lake even if they had enough time at the weekends and if the weather allowed it, and he had them talking and playing games in the evenings, making sure that they did other things aside from just studying, as many of them were afraid that they wouldn't catch up due to their imprisonment and four weeks of classes they had missed – and would then disappoint him.

In other words, they were recovering – but that recovery was slow going, and with some of the children, like Harry for example, it was even more slow going than with the others. And of course, it was, seeing that the boy had been starved and abused for nearly three months before their three weeklong imprisonment. The boy was lucky to be alive even.

But he was alive still.

And he had been the one who had kept the others upright back then.

Now, however, Harry was often very quiet.

While he had kept all their spirits up during those twenty-one days down in the potions classroom, it was now as if he had spent all energy back then, and he was now just empty, sometimes too tired to even bothering with anything except of sitting there, wordlessly, thinking, his green eyes lost and so far away, lost so deep in whatever thoughts might go through the child's mind, it was startling sometimes, scary and worrying.

The still so very small portions the boy barely managed eating were worrying as well, but it had to be expected, knowing how long that particular child had been starved actually. It would take time for him to get used to eating regular and – halfway – full meals again.

All of that, the good things and the bad things were promising for Harry's recovery, and he knew that, knew that even the bad – it was necessary so that in the long run it would be alright. What wasn't promising, however, was his still constant trembling. Harry was still unable able to keep up his own body warmth, relying on charms and warm clothes to keep at a reasonable temperature ... and even then, Severus could see the small body shaking from the cold every so often.

At first it had been worrying, then it had become concerning, and now it was just terrifying, and Severus had little choice than facing what was in front of him – Harry had survived, yes, but it would take him months to recover from the hell he had lived through for nearly his entire life, and especially for the last four months ... perhaps even years – if he ever would.

"I will have you out of that class." He growled softly enough to not startle the child. "But for now, I expect you to eat and then to lay down and sleep. I will cancel the press conference that is scheduled for the afternoon."

"Don't, please." The boy softly said, not even bothering with complaining about him, Severus, massaging his thin and trembling limbs in the midst of lunch, in the great hall, where all the other students could see the action.

"You are in no condition for that conference, Harry." He said, seriously.

"I'll be alright after an hour of sleep." The boy said, and he took a deep breath to not snap at the idiot child that was his son.

"I do doubt that, Harry." He growled. "Give me your other arm. You will lay down after lunch and the only place you will be going – perhaps – is the gardens, but surely not to any conference with idiot reporters that would only annoy the hell out of not only me, but you, too."

"They'll never stop harassing the school if we don't have that press conference, dad." The boy softly said, reaching his other arm at him, and he took the thin and trembling limb, gently massaging a relaxing potion into the stiff and overstrained muscles. "And I'd like to go to Hogsmeade anytime soon without having to fear them waylaying for a statement. Please, dad, I'll manage. I'd just like to get this out of the way while you're there. Don' wanna be alone with 'em." The boy added in a whisper, and he sighed, knowing that, not only was the boy right, but that also he was scared.

"Alright." He said, clearly being anything than happy. "But after lunch and until the conference you will lay down for at least an hour. And after the conference you will lay down, too, and even if it is on the sofa in the parlour or in the garden only, that will depend on the weather in the evening."

"'k, dad." The boy murmured and he gritted his teeth in frustration, realizing that never mind what, he couldn't keep them from every danger – or unnecessary strain like the needless strain caused by idiot reporters, just for example.

"Concerning Creighton, I will have a word with the headmaster." He then said, sitting down beside the boy and starting his own lunch. He would like to go and kill that idiot man right now, but Creighton wasn't even present in the great hall – nor was Moody.

"Do eat your lunch, Harry." He said. "I will excuse you from any homework for the day, happy?"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, under normal circumstances he would, actually, have been happy about being excused from doing homework, yes. But since the beginning of this school year – he didn't live with normal circumstances.

His world had turned upside down within a few days, and it had stayed like that, even if he had to admit that it was better than it had been before – more complicated, but definitely better. He had a father now, he had someone who cared and – even the trouble with Creighton, it didn't seem so bad than the trouble with Snape had been back during the past few years – because now he had someone who stood by his side, now he had someone who cared about him, about what had happened to him, and who stood up for him.

So no, he didn't live under normal circumstances and so – he would rather do his homework, not wanting to disappoint his father.

He knew, however, better than to argue with the man about that, knowing that he'd lose the argument.

Severus could be very persistent, never mind if it came to homework, detention, points taken, or other bad things, or if it came to caring and worrying, or such things. And so, he knew that – he better just did as his father told him and lay down after lunch.

The thing was, he wasn't able to sleep.

The upcoming press conference was making his insides squirm unpleasantly.

What if the Dursleys would get their hands on a wizarding newspaper? Like they saw news on the TV about Sirius last year? What if they read about him having a father now? They would make his world a living hell when he came back next summer, they would have him paying, and they would – no, they wouldn't kill him, they would be too scared, like they had been too scared because of Sirius being his godfather, but they would hurt him for being a freak who had a father who didn't even want him during the holidays – and he knew that that would hurt more than any beating they could ever give him.

Sighing he turned in his bed.

If only this press conference would go well.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Trustworthy resources reported that you started cannibalism, taught to you by Professor Snape." One of the reporters said and he groaned in frustration at the stupidity of the man. Didn't he see all the seventeen children and more even here being alive? How stupid could they be? Alone the thought was so absurd, he wondered who had come up with that particular report to begin with.

It was however Harry, who surprised him the most, the boy looking at his hands and starting to count his fingers.

After the children had been all awake – even Harry, who had slept the longest – he had brought them here, explaining to them that, most likely, they would have to deal with idiot questions from those reporters. Harry had immediately huffed at him, and seeing that the boy had been in the kitchen often, listening to the wireless reporting about the "tragedy of Hogwarts", of course the boy knew exactly how stupid a reporter could be.

"Well, I'm not missing a finger." The boy seriously exclaimed, causing the reporters to grow still for a moment, watching the boy, blinking at him stupidly. "What?" The boy then asked, and he had to keep himself from chuckling at his son's innocent face. He knew best that the child was anything than innocent when it came to jokes. "I'm supposed to have ten fingers, am I not?"

"So, what did you eat down there, Mr. Potter?" One of the reporters asked, coming out of his stupor.

"It's Mr. Snape." The boy growled darkly and in a perfect imitation of his own growl, causing him to smirk. "Professor Snape has adopted me and my name is Harry Snape. And WE – have eaten pickled brains of reporters that asked too many annoying questions!"

"Professor Snape has adopted you, Mr. Potter?" Another reporter asked, looking the teen over. "A death eater adopting the savior of the wizarding world? The Boy-Who-Lived?"

"How is it, to be the son of a death Eater, Mr. Potter?" Another reporter wanted to know, coming as close as possible, just to have a good shot with his camera. A moment later the man dropped the equipment as if he had burned his fingers, looking shocked before he looked accusingly at him, Severus Snape, the moment the camera on the floor ended up in smoke.

"No pictures." He said, coldly. "We all have agreed on a verbal statement from the children, but no pictures – and no recording devices."

"Bastard." The man whispered.

"As my parents have both been married – to each other – bevor my birth, actually … no, gentleman." He coldly announced.

"Well, you want a statement." Draco said, standing. "Here is mine: I won't answer any stupid and idiot questions asked by just as stupid and idiot reporters who insult the one man who kept us all alive and who helped us through anything. Good day, gentlemen." And with that the boy left the room, followed by Theodore and Cameron.

"What?" The man asked, blinking at the boy's retreating back and the closing door. "No! Get them back, Snape!"

"Surely I won't do such a thing." Severus said. "This conference is voluntarily, and my students have the right to choose leaving due to rude comments coming from the press."

"First you have us waiting for two hours and now you don't give away any information." The man angrily called out.

"You do know very well what reason for I have kept you waiting, and I have been under the impression that you were not ready to put the children's health at risk."

Flashback

Opening the door to the visitors' room at Hogwarts Severus Snape straightened to his full height before he entered the room, his face his usual unreadable mask.

Immediately, he took in the reporters, two coming from the Daily Prophet, bearing the emblem of the paper, one coming from the Quibbler, Xenophilius Lovegood standing close to the window, two coming from the wizarding wireless, and two from Wizarding Network. Well, they would not like what he had to say, and inwardly he smirked at the opportunity to annoy them a bit.

"Gentlemen, I suggest that you take a seat and enjoy the drinks and the snacks the house elves have prepared, because I fear that the press conference has to be delayed for an hour or two." He said, barely able to keep from smirking at the horrified faces of the reporters, knowing that two hours might be a very long time for them during which they could have held several other interviews for their papers.

"What? But the conference was scheduled for two o'clock in the afternoon, Snape." One of the reporters called out, clearly unhappy about the delay.

"And yet you will wait until all of my students are awake." He said, trying to sound calm and collected while in truth he would like to use one of his more painful curses on the idiot man.

"Then just go and wake them." Another reporter said, and he leaned with his hands onto the table, leaning close to the idiot man – who shrank back, just like his students would do.

"I think not." He growled darkly, softly. "These children do need their sleep, don't you think so, Mr. Davidson? Or are you really ready to risk the health of seventeen children just to get your article written in the Daily Prophet? I thought not. Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do until the children are awake. I will bring them in here the moment they are ready, and I suggest you keep from storming over them like a bunch of idiot hippogriffs the moment they enter this room."

End flashback

"Listen, there isn't much to tell anyway." Ronald said before anyone could say something that might have had the situation going out of hands. "We've eaten one or another root, we've had, one or another – soup – brewed out of ugly stuff by Professor Snape, we've had herbal tea with honey and enough water. And except of that, we've played games to get our minds off the situation, we've studied, and we've talked a lot."

"How have you studied without having real classes?" Lovegood calmly and seriously asked before any of the other reporters could ask one more annoying question, and he inclined his head towards the man, knowing what he was trying to do.

"Well, we've had our books, and Professor Snape has all the books from year one to year seven in his office, too, the entire Hogwarts syllabus." Hermione answered, happily.

"And Professor Snape was there to answer any questions we've had. It was theoretical only, but quite fun, and even though we've not been to real classes for four weeks, we learned a lot, anyway."

"Four weeks?" Another reporter asked. "To my knowledge you've been locked up in the dungeons for three weeks, not four."

"That is correct." He growled darkly at the man. "But Miss Granger's answer is correct, anyway, seeing that they needed a week until they were healthy enough to visit classes after being imprisoned for three weeks."

"What subjects did you cover down there?" Lovegood asked, and he made a silent note to himself to give Miss Lovegood one or two extra points should he see her in the corridors.

"Any subject we wanted." Harry answered. "We've definitely covered potions and history, and transfiguration, and defense, too. And we've even covered theology."

"Theology?" The man asked. "But that isn't a subject covered at Hogwarts generally."

"No, it is not." He answered, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. "But don't you think that the children might have had questions in contemplation of death?"

"Professor Snape," Xenophilius Lovegood adressed him in person, and he lifted his eyebrow while looking at the man. "You have been elected the Order of Merlin, first class." Lovegood then said, and he sighed, knowing what was to come – namely several reporters gasping in shock, and his son looking up at him with wide eyes. "But why did you refuse the award?

"You didn't tell us, dad ..." The boy said, and again he took a deep breath.

"No, I didn't." He said, before turning to the crowd. "I have refused the award, because there is no need for an award for doing your duty, for doing that what everyone would –or should – have done."

"But the order of Merlin, first class, is an award bestowed upon wizards and witches for outstanding bravery, or for outstanding achievements for the wizarding community." Lovegood said, and again he knew what the man was trying to do, but he did not welcome it. "You have shown both. You have bravely kept these children alive, and thus saved several wizarding bloodlines, like the Malfoys, the Longbottoms, and the Notts."

"I have been no braver than these children have been – so, if anybody should get that award, then it should be them, but not the adult in this." He growled, glaring at them, daring them to ask any more questions that would go into this direction.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, all in all the press conference had gone rather well, after the initial idiot questions had been asked – or in other words, after Xenophilius Lovegood had started asking more reasonable questions and therefore leading the others. He had called a stop to the conference anyway an hour later, when the children had started to get really tired. It had been a tiring day, a strenuous day, with two teachers not allowing them peace or rest, one of them even abusing one of his students – and nothing else had Creighton's action towards Harry been.

Of course he'd gone to Albus – and of course the man had told him to be patient with both, Moody and Creighton. And – of course Albus had told him to give both of them one last chance and that he could withdraw all his students if they mishandled one of his students just once more.

He should have known. Albus was always one for a second chance, for a third chance even, for a thousandth chance, if necessary. Merlin, how this man got as far in the war as he actually did, with all his forgiving, he didn't know.

Well, he'd led the children out of their quarters and into the part of the back yard that was attached to their rooms. He had them sitting down, resting, and he was even ready to turn down PE for today. They'd had a strenuous enough day, and one day without PE wouldn't harm them. They had partaken in the physical exercises for the entire week without too much complains, after all.

Watching Harry when he stepped outside he noticed the boy trembling again, the teen being worse today, and throwing a blanket he had brought with them over the bony form that was sitting in one of the more cozy chairs he settled down into one of the chairs himself while the others were scattered around them on the benches or in the grass.

He would manage, he swore to himself, one way or another he would manage to bring Harry back to health, back to life.

Sighing Harry leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and allowing his father to cover him with the blanket, immediately knowing that the soft fabric had a warming charm on it, enjoying the fact that the man cared, that someone cared, that he wasn't alone with all his troubles anymore.

He was grateful for the blanket Snape – his father – always brought with him, as well as for other things, like a cardigan or a bag with potions or other things the older wizard thought he might need. It was more than two weeks now since their '21 days' like many of them called it, but still, he was always so damn cold and weak and tired, and Severus always tried his best to make it easier for him.

The man was, definitely, the complete opposite from what he had been during the past three years. He was caring, and he was helping, and he was ... sighing he had to admit that he didn't know what exactly, and looking over at the man he couldn't help but smile at the strange picture of one Severus Snape, dark and tough Potions Master, who was enjoying the sun.

It looked to him like a man who was enjoying the last sun he would see in his life, ever, or the first sun which he had never seen before – and Harry swallowed thickly for a moment, hitching a breath, because he knew – he wasn't so far from the truth. Severus, as much of a dungeon person as he might be, he, too, had not seen the sun for twenty-once days and surely he must have missed it, feeling the warm rays of sunlight on his face that was still paler than it used to be since he knew that man.

"Do not set yourself apart, Mr. Snape." He heard his father's soft voice, and suddenly the man was leaning towards him, his hand softly touching his chin and lifting his head. "Do not forget that you have been through the same than the rest of us, if not worse." The man's eyes upon him were so piercing suddenly, he could feel it slicing through his body and through his mind, through his soul like a sharp knife ... as if the man could read his thoughts, again!

Well, one thing was sure – as much as the Potions Master was enjoying the warm rays of the sunlight on his face, on his entire body, he was still Severus Snape, hard and tough Potions Master, and he had learned about the man's protectiveness … and he knew – with that man as his father, he would be safe forever.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
St. Mungos and Diagon Alley

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 97
Gryffindor 53
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01