Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 14th 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
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 never before had seen – 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.

A few days more
Chapter fourteen
St. Mungo's and Diagon Alley

"Dad?" The boy asked and he looked down at the fourteen year old, once again noticing how startling it was, the fact that he had to look down like he looked down at one of the first years. What he also noticed was – Harry always started a question by addressing him before asking, the boy never giving away a question the way it came to his mind, but always addressing him first with a "dad?" or a "sir?" or in the worst case with a "professor?"

"Yes?" He asked back.

In the beginning he had thought that most likely he would be annoyed by Harry calling him 'dad', and he had dreaded that particular word for addressing him. He would have settled with 'Severus' or with 'father' even, if necessary, but he had soon realized that the boy he had adopted had been in too much need of someone he could call dad – of course he would do so very soon, and strangely – it had not bothered him like he had feared.

"Why are we here?" Harry asked, looking up at him unsurely. Of course, the boy was unsure upon everything he said or did. He was always unsure … still. "Isn't that examination at St. Mungo's today?"

He had also dreaded the questions over questions coming from a teenage child that lived in very close contact with him, as his son actually, the boy asking stupid questions until he had a headache – but there hadn't been stupid questions, the boy asking questions that actually were worth being asked, and except of that learning by watching others, or listening to others, and upon learning that the child hadn't even been allowed to school before Hogwarts, that he hadn't been allowed to ask questions at his relatives, that all the knowledge he had, he'd had to gain all alone by himself, by trial and error, being punished, beaten, and locked away for said error, while the only praise for a success had been ... not being beaten – it soon had smashed his resolve to let the thousands and thousands of upcoming question in to one ear, and out the other. That particular child could ask him all the questions he wanted, and he wouldn't mind.

"It is." He confirmed while leading the boy across the street to Gladrag's. "But seeing that your trunk holds nothing than old rags that do not even fit, you are in desperate need of new clothes."

"Wha– ..." The boy made, abruptly stopping in his tracks. Well, luckily it was a Saturday morning, and the street wasn't as crowded as it was during the week, only a few older witches doing their Saturday morning shopping, or Harry would have caused people running into him.

"You are in desperate need of new clothes, child." He said, frowning.

"But ... but you can't ... I mean ... I don't need them, and ..." Harry gasped out, actually taking a step backwards, the green eyes going large and ghost-like in the pale face, like so often, and he reached out to take the boy's upper arm before he could flee the situation completely, and he had to search Diagon Alley for the child.

"I do know you very well by now." He said, locking his dark eyes with the green ones, and trying to get as much confidence over to the child. "And so, I am aware of the fact that you dislike getting things, even though they are needed, and even though you get them rightfully. And in your case, new clothes are very much needed, and you do get them rightfully. You should have gotten them years ago, already!"

"But you don't have to ..." The boy choked out, the green eyes going desperate, and he wondered why.

"Actually – I do have to." He said, gently and slowly guiding the child into the direction of the shop. "I have adopted you, and so you are my son now, I am your father, and I am responsible for not only feeding you, for not only giving you a roof over your head, a bed and a place to live in, but I am also responsible for your school supplies, for your clothes, for books and toys, for comfort given to you. But except for the 'have to'-aspect, I also do wish to. No one has provided you with the things any child needs – I would like to do so now, Harry. Please do allow me to care for you the way someone should have cared for you years ago, child."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

And there it was again – the ... "child"... the one word that made him weak, the one word that showed that Severus was the first one, the only one, who acknowledged that he was just that, a child, and he couldn't help giving in. He didn't know if Severus did it on purpose – the man knew him well enough now, like he'd said, and he was sure that his father knew exactly where his weak spots were, one being the word "child" used by that man.

"'k" He said, giving in, but he didn't like it one bit.

Of course, it would be nice to have new clothes, other children had new clothes every now and then, too, and he had always wished that he'd got something new, too, instead of getting the old rags from his cousin.

Aunt Petunia had been very stingy with Dudley's clothes. The clothes that had been alright and without holes or stains, she had brought to the secondhand shop, and the clothes that had only a small hole or stain, she had given to the Salvation Army. Only those clothes that really couldn't be given away anymore because they had too many holes or stains, the clothes that were too worn off and thin – well, he had got them. And that really hadn't been many clothes.

He'd normally had one spare Jeans, a spare pullover and two or three t-shirts, a pair of shoes and – well, too little underwear. It's been the first thing he'd bought before his first year at Hogwarts, when he'd been to Diagon Alley, underwear. Underwear that fit, underwear that had not been worn by someone else, underwear that was clean and without holes – and stains.

Of course, he'd had to be careful with his money, he'd know that, and so he hadn't spent too much of it, but he'd bought new underwear together with his school robes, anyway.

So yes, that his father was now going to buy him new things felt nice, definitely, very nice, but ... but what if the man realized that he was not worth so much money? What if the man realized that he was better off without him? And what if ...

The boy slumping his shoulders caused Severus to frown.

What was so startling at the thought of getting new clothes?

"Who's been the whale you got those – rags from anyway?" He asked. Of course, he knew exactly who the whale had been – or rather, the baby whale – Harry had gotten those damn clothes from, but he asked anyway, just to lighten the mood a bit.

And indeed, the boy snorted at his question.

"Whale is a good description." Harry said, huffing at him. "They're from my cousin. Aunt Petunia always gave the good clothes to a secondhand shop and to the Salvation Army. I only got those clothes that couldn't be given away anymore." The boy added with a shrug.

"One has to just look at the rags you have in your trunk to know that." He growled darkly. "Just the more it is time that you get new clothes for once in your life, child. And neither will I allow you to run along in clothes being transfigured from a sheet of paper for any longer either. Come now, we're there." He then added, leading the boy into the shop.

It was one of the larger and more well cared for buildings in the alley, but it was one of the most expensive cloth shops, too. Seeing however that Gladrag sold the best only, well, he always bought his clothes here, and he had never rued his decision.

"Professor Snape." One of the clerks came to greet him. "Shall I get Master Gladrag for you?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Henson." He inclined his head, allowing the young man to lead them to a corner with a table surrounded by armchairs and a sofa in front of a warm and happily dancing fire. He took a seat at the large sofa, pulling the boy down with him, the child clearly scared in the new and unknown environment. But well, that had to be expected.

Any abused child would be scared in unknown environment, and so he didn't mind the boy sitting closer than necessary.

"Tea, Professor Snape?" The young man asked before looking over at Harry. "And perhaps a cup of hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please." He nodded his head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Professor." The clerk smiled and then called for the house elf that worked at Gladrag's. "A cup of Professor Snape's usual blend of tea, please, and a cup of hot chocolate for this young man here, please." He ordered, and a moment later the house elf was gone with an "of course, Master Henson, sir" and a soft 'pop'.

"Master Gladrag will be here in a moment, Professor Snape." The young man said. "Please, enjoy the tea."

"You get drinks in a shop for clothes?" Harry asked, startled, when the young man was gone.

"Gladrag is one of the most expensive cloth shops you could find within the entire wizarding world. He has his noble shops in London, Dublin, Paris, Berlin, Brussels, Luxembourg, Amsterdam, Helsinki, Oslo, Tokyo, Washington and Cairo. And so, of course, you lose a lot of money by shopping here." He explained, leaning back against the backrest of the sofa, pulling the boy with him. "But his service is excellent. His clothes are the best, and they have woven self-cleaning charms for stains into them as a standard, simple protective charms for minor spells and hexes as well as a slight fitting charm – and yes, one of his services is, you get drinks while waiting, and if you are a regular customer, like me, then you even get lunch if you happen to be at his shop during lunchtime."

"Whoa ... wait ... that means – if I spill the hot chocolate over the clothes accidentally, then they won't be stained?" Harry asked, amazed at the information.

"Exactly that." He answered.

"Whoa." The boy made again. "Could have needed these for living with the Dursleys when I've been smaller, would've spared me one or another punishment."

"You won't be punished for spilling anything in future, you do realize that, don't you, Harry?" He asked, his eyes narrowed at the brat, ignoring the house elf that brought the required drinks. "It is a normal thing for children to spill something every now and then, it happens, and it surely is no reason for punishment."

"Yeah." The boy answered, but he didn't really look at him.

"Harry!" He said. "Do you?"

"Yes, I do." The boy said, sighing. "It is just ... it's strange, having you telling me that it isn't a reason for punishment. I've been so sure that you'd punish a toddler for spilling things."

"Well, then surely Draco wouldn't be able to sit on his behind for years, Harry." He chuckled. Well, at least his reputation was not lost completely – he, however, didn't like the fact that the boy still seemed to fear him.

"Master Snape, good morning." Gladrag said while approaching the sofa, and sat down in one of the armchairs. "I see you have already made yourself home. I hope I find you in good health?"

"Considering the situation, yes, I cannot complain." He answered, knowing that Gladrag would never mention any gossip of the – 'tragedy of Hogwarts' – but he was sure that the man had heard of it like anyone else. "May I introduce to you my son, Harry Snape."

"Mr. Snape, nice to meet you." Gladrag said, smiling at the boy who gave a small "hello" away, causing him to chuckle. "I already wondered about your visit, Professor, seeing that you've been here during the summer holidays to do your shopping. Not that I would complain however." The man added with a friendly smile. Gladrag was one of the few people who would dare smiling at him, knowing that he wouldn't take it the wrong way. A shop owner who knew how he could handle his several customers was a rare thing.

"I am not here for myself, Master Gladrag, but for my son." He said, taking a deep breath, knowing that the boy wouldn't like what would come next.

"I see." Gladrag answered, still smiling but the smile seemed forced for a moment when casting a deeper glance at the boy's clothes, and he knew that Gladrag noticed the clothes being transfigured from sheets of paper only, even though he didn't say anything about it.

"We need an entire wardrobe for Harry." The Potions Master said. "And I would like to visit your boys' section, too, so that my son can choose one or another thing for himself."

"Of course Professor." Gladrag smiled. "We have a new collection for fourteen and fifteen year old teenagers since last week, and I'm sure that you will find one or another thing you'd like Mr. Snape."

Well, he had always known that Gladrag wasn't stupid, because even though the boy looked like an eleven year old first year student, his scar being hidden behind strands of black hair falling into the pale face, Gladrag seemed to know exactly who that boy was, seeing that there had been a fourth year Harry being imprisoned together with him, and therefore handled him like the fourteen year old.

Well, the boy itself only nodded his head quickly and nervously, unable to give an answer.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

They had finished their drinks, having small talk with Gladrag – or rather, he'd had the small talk with Gladrag, while Harry had been sitting there, listening, only answering one or another question about what colours he liked, if he liked casual clothes or rather sartorial elegance – at which the boy had gotten large eyes, quickly shaking his head – and then the tailor had taken the boy's measures, with a charm luckily, after the boy had gotten tense upon the tailor coming close.

Again, Gladrag had said nothing but had taken his wand and had cast a measuring spell.

He knew that there had been a cursory scan too, the man never daring to do a deeper diagnostic, but he knew that Gladrag would weave a warming charm, as well as a softening charm on the clothes added to the self-cleaning and protective charm.

Well – and now they were here, in the boys' section, and he had to take a deep breath every few minutes to not lose his patience with his son, reminding himself that it was not Harry's fault.

But well, watching the boy standing in front of a hoodie or a Jeans, with bright eyes and then quickly turning away without taking it, or at least asking if he could have it – it was nerve wracking.

"The set of wardrobe I have ordered earlier, consists of underwear, your school uniform, some plain white shirts and black trousers." He said, hoping to make it easier for the child. "Except for that it contains only a few t-shirts, plain pullovers, and pyjamas in the colors Master Gladrag has asked of you earlier, and a few plain Jeans. Now, you have to choose your more personal clothing to wear in privacy, Harry."

"But ..." The boy said, nearly breathlessly. "But ... you don't have to ... and I could wear the plain ..."

"We have already had this discussion, Harry." He said. "I might not have to buy more than the standard wardrobe, but I wish to. You need clothes you like to wear in privacy. And so, I expect you to choose some of the clothes you have looked at without daring to take it. Or else I will choose for you – t-shirts with potions or potions ingredients on it." He added with a smirk.

Well, the horrified look on the boy's face caused him to chuckle, but a moment later his son actually went back to the clothes he had looked at so longingly earlier.

In the end the boy had chosen a hoodie, one with a dragon on it – and he sighed at the reminder of what would be close to the castle soon, namely dragons which the ministry had decided to bring to Great Britain for the tournament, a pair of Blue Jeans with holes – and he took a deep breath at that piece of clothing, knowing that the child wouldn't chose anything else if he told him to put that one back, a pair of pyjamas that consisted of a light brown trousers and a light brown hoodie with a wolf that slept on a cushion on the front side. At the back the wolf was surrounded by a destroyed pillow and feathers, and read – he actually, had to smile at that one – "It's not my fault, really … one moment I've been sleeping peacefully, and the next moment the pillow exploded, just like that … you're lucky I'm still alive …", and two t-shirts, one with a very small dog standing in front of a very large dog, looking up with innocent puppy-eyes and daringly saying "asshole", and one with the inscription "hell was full, so I came back".

Well, the first one surely showed the bloody Gryffindor bravery his son owned while for the second t-shirt – he had to admit that yes, the boy was right. Including the poison from a basilisk, acromantulas, and the killing curse, not to mention twenty-one days of imprisonment without food, and the abuse of his former caretakers – the boy had survived more than any adult wizard of high age could say. Something that should not have happened with any child.

"I do hope that your pyjamas won't inspire Diagon to make a mess like that." Was all he said at his son's choice of clothes, when they went back to the counter.

"Master Snape, Mr. Snape." Gladrag greeted them the moment they came back down. "I take it you have found a few items."

"Too little for my liking, but we can always come back." He said with a pointed look at the boy. "Would you please add any charms to these too, Master Gladrag?"

"But of course, Professor Snape." The man said. "Would you like a small lunch?"

"Not this time." He said. "My son and I have an important appointment. Please send the items over to Harry's room at Hogwarts."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, he had known that Adam would like to have them for lunch so that he could watch Harry eating. Of course, he knew that the man wouldn't do so openly, but that he would be just dining with them and having a conversation about anything imaginable, about school, about what classes they now visited, about Harry's favourite food, about the next Hogsmeade trip in a few weeks, and even about the three weeks they'd been locked in the dungeons classroom, Harry telling the healer that, actually, he was glad that it had happened, because otherwise he wouldn't have been adopted by him, Snape.

When the healer however had asked why he would be so happy about that, Harry had only shrugged his shoulders, and had concentrated onto the roasted vegetables and potatoes, and the grilled chicken.

Well, after that the conversation had continued while they've been walking through the gardens. Harry had clearly been careful at first after the question from Healer Adam during dinner, but soon he'd started to partake in the conversation again – if he was not following one or another butterfly or bird with his eyes, watching a squirrel for a few minutes or kneeling before a flower.

"Look at the bark of this tree, dad." The boy called out, amazed, standing near an Elven tree.

They had kept standing whenever the boy had looked at something else, the healer and him discussing the boy, his past with the Dursleys – at least that what he knew of it – and the healer running one or another diagnostic when the boy didn't look.

"It is an Elven tree, Harry." He said. "And I do not speak of the house elves but of real Elves, creatures similar to – let me say Vampires. They have lived hundreds of years ago, and they have lived high up in the trees. That's the reason the bark of the Elven tree is so ragged and easy to be climbed."

"Urgh, they drank blood?" The boy asked, his face scrunched up.

"Of course not, child." He chuckled. "But they are immortal, and they are stronger and faster than we humans are."

"Why are they gone?" The boy asked, green eyes showing real interest like with everything the boy asked.

"No one knows." He answered. "No one knows if they are really gone, actually, or if they just vanished from the view of the human race for one reason or another."

"Maybe they've seen that the human race is so easily ready to destroy lives." The boy softly mused, and he knew exactly what his son was thinking, placed his hands on the thin shoulder.

"Like your aunt and uncle?" The healer asked.

Well – he could have told the man what kind of reaction he would elicit from the boy, namely no reaction at all, except of - "You know what is big and blue and is sitting twenty-five yards deep in the earth?" The boy asked, looking up at the man innocently, and he chuckled.

"I don't know, Harry." The older healer said. "Maybe it is a blue elephant that has lost his way?"

"Noooo." He boy smiled happily at the healer who accepted the game.

"Then surely it has to be a blue rocket, having lost its way." The healer smiled back at the boy, and he sighed.

"Noooooooo." Harry again made, shaking his head.

"Then help me, Harry." The healer said in a suffering and desperate voice.

"It's the big, blue stone eater of course."

"Of course it is the big, blue stone eater." Healer Adam sighed, smiling.

"Well, you could have asked me." Severus said, smirking at the older man.

"I should have known that you would enjoy that very much. Professor." The older man said, chuckling. "I forgot how much fun you find in some things."

"Dad?" The boy asked, his voice back to being unsure, but the green eyes – even if carefully – looked up at him questioningly.

"Ask that bloody healer." He huffed. "I'm sure he would like to share one or another story with you."

"Oh ... well, it's not really important, sir." Harry said upon having taken his huff for displeasure.

"I think I'll go looking for a bathroom." He said, shaking his head about Harry – yet again – re-treating a step. He knew that healer Adam would like a few minutes with the boy alone anyway, and he also knew that Adam wouldn't give away any story he, Severus, wouldn't like the boy to know.

"Oh – I'll come, too." Harry immediately said, a hint of panic showing in his voice.

"You have been to the bathroom just a few minutes ago, Harry." He said, getting serious, knowing the reason as to why his son wanted to accompany him. "Healer Adam won't eat you while you are alone with him … he isn't allowed to."

"But I ..." The boy softly tried, carefully taking a step backwards.

"Harry ..." He calmly warned, just as softly.

"Alright ..."

"Good." He gently said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment, before he turned and left the two. And – even if he would never admit it – he had to force himself to walking away and leaving Harry behind, knowing how miserable the boy felt.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Watching his father leaving he sighed before he turned back towards the Elven tree, running his hand over the rough bark with the many cracks and ledges, refusing to look at the healer in hopes that the man would just forget him if he didn't look at him, that he would not ask any awkward questions. But he would, he knew.

"Well, you know, your father is a Potions Master, and as a Potions Master your father has, of course, made an apprenticeship as a healer, too."

Startled – and despite his resolve to not look at the man – he turned and looked up at healer Adam, the older man with the dark hair that was mixed with grey looking over at him with warm and gentle eyes.

"He has?" He asked, startled. One – he hadn't known that, and two – he'd thought that the healer would ask stupid questions of him, not telling him something about his father.

"Hmm, yes, if you want to become a Potions Master, you have to become a healer first, and the other way round of course, because you have to know about the other field, too." The man said. "Becoming a Potions Master, you have to know what to do in case of an accident or emergency as well as you have to know how the potions you are brewing have to work with each illness, or how they would interfere with other medical things. You also have to know what illness you have to deal with, or you couldn't prescribe potions in the first place. The same goes the other way round. As a healer you have to become a Potions Master, too, because you have to know how the potions in the body of a patient are working or what could happen if you give someone several different potions, how they are acting or reacting with each other."

"It's a strange thought." He softly said, not sure if it was safe to speak up. "That dad's a healer. But it would explain a lot, I guess."

Harry wasn't sure what he should be feeling. He just couldn't believe how things had changed in the last weeks for him, so completely, and so quickly. He was still struggling with the concept of having a father to begin with, but he was beginning to learn and trust the man, seeing that the older wizard had done everything he could to help him feeling better, and feeling safe, too. And still there were new things he learned about his father, nearly every day.

"Yes, I guess so." The healer chuckled. "It would startle me, too. However, your father has been working for three years at St. Mungo's for his apprenticeship as a healer, after he has been working with a Potions Master for three years, of course. Well, the students that do their apprenticeship at St. Mungos, have their own meeting-room at the hospital, down in the dungeons, while the students that are in their last year, are allowed in the staff room for the professors on the first floor. Now, of course there were several clothing hooks attached to the wall beside the door, and as the professors thought the young students didn't deserve the right to hang up their robes on those hooks, there was a sign above the cloaks that read 'for Professors only'. That however didn't keep your father from adding a note just between the sign and the hooks, burned into the wall with his wand, a note that read 'you can hang up cloaks as well'."

"Dad did that?" He couldn't help asking, smiling, forgetting that he better didn't trust this man too much.

"Hmm, your father is, surely, not as innocent as he makes you all believing, Harry." Healer Adam said, chuckling. "He has become a serious man, a proud man, and a stern man, a man of responsibility, but that doesn't mean that he's never been a teenager, too."

"I've never seen it from that point of view." He softly said.

Learning that his father, that Severus Snape of all people, had been a child once, a teenager once, a young man once, that he had done the same stupid things as they had done, it was strange, it was ... and at the same time there was that man that was a healer, and not just a Potions Master, a new aspect he had learned about his father, too.

At least, he didn't have to wonder anymore why his father knew how to handle them all now, and how to keep them all alive, and why he dared going against Madam Pomfrey in his prescriptions. He didn't have to wonder anymore why he had always the correct potions in his pockets, knowing what to give them and ...

But would it be enough? Would all of that ... all that new information didn't help him either, didn't help him with – would the man keep him? Would the man ...

"You should watch your father's chest swelling proudly each time you call him 'dad'." The older healer said, softly, but with an amused grin on his face.

At first he looked up at the man, startled, but then he smiled back, realizing that – did that mean that Snape was really proud at him? Did that mean that he'd done something right? That Snape was – just maybe, happy about having him? A bit at least? Looking over at Severus who was coming back from the bathroom, his smile brightened, causing the man to raise one of his eyebrows at him when he reached them, looking down at him so seriously, like always.

"Something funny, son?" The man asked.

Still smiling, unable to stop smiling, he quickly shook his head, while he had a hard time keeping himself from running his arms around the Potions Master's midsection.

"What incorrect story did you tell him, healer Adam?" Severus asked, frowning at the older man who nearly chuckled. Well, of course he knew that Adam would never tell an untrue story – he just wanted to keep the boy smiling a bit longer, while he himself, wanted to keep the other two from thinking he could enjoy the situation.

"Oh, only the story about the hooks for the cloaks in the Professors' staff room." The man chuckled at his outburst. "Or should I have told him the story about the first exams you had to overlook?"

"Merlin save me from dunderheads, but at least that one is not too harmful for my reputation." He groaned playfully.

"Well, Harry, if you become a healer, then after your apprenticeship you have to teach the younger students at St. Mungos for a year for your apprenticeship to become valid." The man started and he sighed, sitting at the bench beside the garden path and waving Harry over. The boy had been on his feet for hours now, playfully running through the garden of the hospital and chasing butterflies or such foolish things, and he could see the tiredness radiating off the boy, Harry most likely not even realizing how tired he was.

"My worst year." He growled while pulling his son close, the boy leaning against him easily.

"Even worse than teaching the 'dunderheads' at Hogwarts?" Harry asked and he nearly smiled at the boy.

"Even worse than that, indeed." He answered, calmly, while running his hand through the mop of black hair.

"Well, back then, there'd been four students that had been so very good at potions that they had all managed their tests throughout the year with an A." The healer continued his story, having Harry listening closely, and he smirked. "And they were so sure that they would manage their end exams without troubles, too, so they decided to go to London over the weekend to visit a party of their friends. Now you have to know that if you become a healer, then you have to live your first year as a muggle so that you know what to do in a muggle accident, too. After all, you cannot use magic in front of muggles, and it wouldn't be fair leaving them to death in an accident just because they're no wizards. We would be back in times with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named then. However, so, they drove there with a car, had a good time but unfortunately, after the party they overslept all Sunday and therefore didn't manage it back to the end exam on Monday morning."

"But, they've been wizards!" The boy said. "And if they're in an emergency, and that surely is one, then they surely could have used magic to get back to St. Mungos. It's been the end exams after all, and they're important, aren't they?"

"They are, Harry." He said. "But there are rules, and one of them says that they have to live as muggles during their first year, or they wouldn't be allowed to continue, and that includes the end exams."

"But that's unfair." The boy sighed.

"Maybe, but it has a reason." Healer Adam said. "They have to learn how to work without their magic, and they have to learn that this rule is not to be bent. However, they decided to tell their Professor that they had visited the London National Potions Archive to prepare for the end exams but had a flat tire on their way home and no carjack, that they'd had to wait until someone had stopped to help them because they hadn't been allowed to do magic, of course. Well, their young Professor thought over the matter, and then allowed them to do their end exams the next day."

"Ok, now I know that you've not been the Professor but one of the four students, dad." The boy said, turning in his arms to look up at him, and he frowned. "Because you would never do such a thing and allow them to do their finals a day late."

He didn't say anything to that, just huffed at the boy.

"Well, the four students had been very glad about that, and they really learned until the late evening, and the next morning they arrived punctually at the Professor's classroom. The Professor, however, placed all four students in four different rooms and then gave them the parchments with the exams. The first question gained them one point. It was a simple question about how to brew a forgetfulness potion."

"But that's a Hogwarts Potions!" The boy gasped and he chuckled. Of course, the boy would remember this one.

"What is the reason as to why the four students thought that it would be an easy exam." Healer Adam said, and he couldn't help chuckling again. "They wrote down the answer, and then turned their parchment for the second question."

"And what was the second question?" The boy eagerly asked.

"The second question gained them 99 points and it was – which tire was flat?"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Dad?" The boy asked after Healer Adam had left them for a moment to order dinner, softly, tiredly, and he could hear the desperation in the boy's voice as well as the strain.

"Yes, Harry?" He asked back, giving his son his full attention.

"When will that examination be?" The boy softly asked. "'m tired."

Well, except for the stories healer Adam had told Harry, and except of the moments when the child had been chasing one or another insect through the gardens of the hospital – the boy had been rather tense, clearly fearing that the examination would start at any moment, and he wondered how it was, that the boy was so very scared of it.

"The examination is already over." He said, unable to keep the boy on the edge any longer, even though he knew that most likely healer Adam wouldn't have told the boy now.

"It is ... but ... I don't understand, dad." The boy softly said in a mixture of disbelieve and relief, even a bit of hurt.

"The muggles would do a test with the child knowing that it was a test in hopes that the child would do the best possible." He said while pulling the boy close, knowing that he had to explain it to his son. "But we know that such an unnatural behaviour would only skew the outcome of the test. We would rather have a nice day with the child, ask one or another question we deem important, cast one or another diagnostic charm, but would otherwise watch the child. That way we learn much more, than if we have the child in an environment where it feels uncomfortable and watched."

"But ... but I didn't know ..."

"You were not supposed to know, or you wouldn't have been just a normal child." Healer Adam's voice came from the doorway. "But let me assure you that you have done very well, Harry."

"But ... but I haven't done anything ..."

"Exact." He said, sighing, feeling his son's disappointment even. "You have done nothing, except for what we expected from you, running along and playing, asking questions and simply being – you, being Harry. If you had known that this was the examination, would you have been as free as you have been?"

"I think not ... sorry, dad." The boy admitted, meekly, and he pulled the boy's head against his chest.

"Exactly, Harry." He said. "And there is no reason to apologize, child. We have tricked you, and you have every right to feel disappointed. It is I who has to apologize for tricking you in the first place."

"No!" The boy said, too small hands for a fourteen year old being placed at his chest, and the child pushing himself upright, looking at him, startled. "I just forgot to consider that you're the adult and that I ..."

"Perhaps you should also consider how long it might take for your body to be found, Mr. Snape, if you ever dare going into that line of thinking, again." He growled darkly at the boy, taking the two thin upper arms into a tight grip. "Just because we are 'the adults' it doesn't mean that we have every right over you. That is the line of thinking that the Dursleys have beaten into you, in the truest sense of the word, but ... that is not what is right, child." He added after taking a deep breath to calm himself, relaxing the grip he'd had on the child's arms. "As the child, you have to be protected by the adults around you, not harmed. And the adults around you have no right to hurt you in any way or form just because they are older and stronger, they have no more rights than you have just because they can do things to hurt you."

Well, after that, dinner hadn't been too easy, the strain of having to fear an oncoming examination falling off the child, and so the boy relaxed so much that he nearly fell asleep over his full plate a few times. In the end he just transfigured their chairs into one large sofa and pulled the boy close until he lay with his head in his lap.

"You don't have to worry, Severus, the boy is quite fine." Adam said and he huffed.

"You have a strange definition of 'fine'." He said, running his hand over the pale face.

"Considering of what the child has been through, and considering your memories I have viewed, he is fine, Severus, you have cared very well for him."

"He is still not out of the woods yet." He growled at the man.

"I didn't say that." Adam answered. "But he is on a good way. He has gained weight after all, and he is eating without throwing up – as little as he actually does eat, and even though he nearly fell asleep during dinner. However, he's moving. He's still moving slowly and awkwardly, his movements are still clearly weak and careful, but he is moving, Severus. He is using his brain if he is given an impulse, and his ways of thinking are very complicated. Should he survive, then I'm sure that the moment he is at health, he will be a very strenuous child, my dear Professor Snape."

"What do you mean, should he survive?" He growled at the man, startled as well as – as if defending the child that way. This boy was not supposed to die now after all, now that everything was over – and yet, he knew that it still could happen, the child dying, he was not out of danger, yet.

"You have said it yourself, Severus, he is not out of the woods, yet, and he is so very weak, his organs having lost too much energy in order to keep him alive during your imprisonment, most likely already during the time with his relatives, some of them don't even work properly anymore."

"I know." He sighed. He had run the same diagnostics Adam had, after all. "But there's nothing I can do about that, except of giving him the required potions."

"No, there is not." The healer eyed him warily. "And that is the reason as to why I said – should he survive. You should be aware of the fact that he could still die, Severus, do not blind yourself just because you love the boy."

"I do not ..." A glance down at the sleeping child in his arms was enough to know – he couldn't say it aloud, and he looked back at the bloody healer. "Yes, I do love that idiot child. But should word of that leave this room here, then be assured that it is you who won't survive. Now, you better continue with the outcome of your examination."

"Well, it definitely is not autism." Adam said, inclining his head. "He rather has a general problem with his attention. You can catch him by setting an impulse, a story that he finds interesting, and then he actually concentrates on listening to the story told – until there is a squirrel hurrying up a tree and setting another impulse. He is unable to not following these impulses, and if you want to handle the boy, then you just have to set impulses, and if possible stronger impulses than the ones crossing the boy's ways, or he will just forget about the impulses you have set earlier."

"I surely can't tell him a story to keep him at the task during potions." He growled. He understood what Adam meant, the muggles would call it ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder, but that didn't mean that he liked it. The muggles used medication for that, but he knew that in the long run the children should rather learn controlling their impulses instead of following them, a task neither easy for the children nor for the parents.

In the wizarding world disorder illnesses were very rare and therefore didn't count as an illness to begin with until recently, and therefore there were no real therapies or institutions where the children or parents could get help and learn how to deal with it. The children, so far, were viewed as "difficult children" or "stupid children", sometimes even as squibs, their families as anti-social, as minor subjects, and they were easily pushed aside. There were only a few healers meanwhile who really tried to set up therapies that might help, and Adam Chandler was one of them.

"Where does it come from?" He asked. "Neither James Potter nor Lily Evans showed any signs of the disorder. Nor did Petunia, never mind how much I disliked the woman to begin with. So where does it come from?"

"Well, the disorder might mostly be passed down to the children or grandchildren, but that is not a necessity. It can also be that the disorder stems from abuse in the childhood – what would explain the disorder in Harry's case."

"That should make it easier to deal with it, shouldn't it?" He couldn't help asking.

"In one way yes, while in the other way no." Adam answered. "It might seem easier insofar as the disorder is not present and tightened from the moment of conception, it is not rooted in his magical core, but it is harder to deal with insofar as the disorder is his way of dealing with what had been done to him. He has learned certain ways of acting or reacting, and it has become a refuge where his mind can flee into, to dream, to forget, or to prove himself – and to prove himself to you. If he doesn't react, then most likely his mind has shut down, and he is dreaming away his worries and his fears, his emotional pain while if he is overactive and daring, he most likely wishes to prove one thing or another to himself or to you."

"I see." He said, understanding that it could be a real challenge the moment the child was well, and back to strength. "So, what do you suggest?"

"You offered him therapy once a week on Saturdays?" Adam asked and he nodded.

"He didn't like it, but he accepted it, seeing that Draco, Theodore and Adrian are in this, too." He answered. "He is very dependent on his friends, more than any other child I have ever known."

"I take it that your son didn't have too many friends while living with his muggle relatives." The healer mused and he huffed.

"To my knowledge he hadn't been allowed any friends at all, and the only other child living in the household had been overindulged in not only food, shelter, and love, but in sweets, and any other unnecessary things like new computer games every week, too, while Harry had been forced to watch his cousin being pampered and loved. The boy hadn't even been allowed to visit school."

"And you wonder that he depends so much on his friends now?" The man now huffed at him. "Of course, he does, he is suffering from severe fear of loss, fear of being abandoned by other people, especially those close to him, whether through the people leaving him, or dying. He is trying to hold something he'd never had before with both hands, so desperately, as if he tried holding running water in his hands. You won't be able to change that for a long time, Severus, if ever, nor will you be able to change his symptoms of the disorder. And I'm sure that there will be more disorders coming along his way. Two more he already suffers from, aside from the ADD and the fear of loss, I can tell you already, namely a sleeping disorder and an eating disorder, but I guess you already know that. And the more you try to openly change it, the worse you will make it."

"I know." He said. "So, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing except of you sending him over for therapy on Saturdays." The man said, smirking at him. "And nothing except of you resting more than you do now."

"My health is none of your business, healer, so you better keep your opinion to yourself." He growled at the man.

"You are correct, Severus." The healer smiled at him. "Your health is none of my business, but Harry's health is, as well as Draco's, Theodore's and Adrian's. And so, you will either rest more than you do so far, or I will pull in the ministry, Severus."

"You wouldn't dare ..." He hissed angrily.

"You should know me better than that, Severus." The idiot man said, and he had to admit that – yes, he should know the man better than that, he'd been in the hands of this particular man, too, after all, even though it was a long time ago, and so he should know that the man was ready to do anything that would keep the children entrusted to him safe, even if it meant going against their parents.

"And I will fight you with my life if necessary, healer." He hissed back at the man, preparing to leave with Harry.

"I know." The bloody man said, calmly. "And that is the difference between you and most of the other parents I have sitting here, they do not care while you do. When was it, that you have taken a look into a mirror, Severus? When was it that you have cast a diagnostic at yourself? When was it that you had a decent night's sleep? And when was it that you did something for yourself like reading a book, or going for a walk, or even brewing a potion? Anything that would relax you and help you to recover yourself?"

"Like I said, that is none of your business."

"If your own poor health causes you to break down while these children are in need of you, then it IS my business, Professor Snape." The older wizard watched him daringly. "And either, you have a – 'babysitter' – scheduled for twice a week and for at least three hours during which you are doing something for yourself, or I will get the ministry into this."

"I won't break down, you imbecile of a healer." He growled darkly.

"Still the old temper, and here I heard that you lost it." The man smirked. "Either way, the choice is yours, because you do look ready to drop at any turn you might take."

"Dad?" Harry's small voice came from his lap, like it had come back then in the infirmary when he'd had the argument with Poppy. Why did this bloody boy address him with a reproachful "dad" whenever he was in an argument about his own health? "Please?" Was the next thing the bloody boy uttered, and he sighed.

"Alright." He gave in while looking down at the child. "For Harry's sake, and for his alone, Chandler." He growled. "I will do so, and I will take a babysitter for two hours twice a week, but nothing more, and now you will surely excuse us, my son is tired, and I'll bring him home."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Of course, Severus." Had been all the bloody healer had said, smirking at him, knowing that he had won, and he huffed at even the reminder of it while he landed in their quarters after flooing home, Harry being encircled into his arms and into his cloak safely, and he kept the boy in the warmth of his cloak for a while longer, casting a warming charm on the living room.

The boy seemed always so cold, there was no warmth in his body, and the child had to rely upon his warming charms and thick clothes to keep him warm, something that worried him immensely but it was no wonder, seeing that there was nothing on the child's bones that would keep him warm.

"Hi uncle Severus, hi Harry." Draco said, coming closer, followed by some of the others. "How did the examination go?"

"Seeing that the bloody healer annoyed the hell out of me – it did go better than I feared." He said, growling at the boy's chuckling.

"You know, you really have a disturbed relationship with healers, uncle Severus." The boy laughed.

"I'll take you to one next time, boy." He growled, causing the boy in his arms to flinch and he sighed, tightening his grip for a moment. He understood what Adam meant, namely that it was hard to always being there for them, to always trying to remind himself of not using one word or another, like the word 'boy' for example, but that didn't mean that the healer could patronize him. He was an adult and he was his own Master after all – at the truest sense of the word since his spying days were over.

Well, the bloody man had at least had to answer all of the blue stone eater jokes from his son, one by one, and whenever he'd asked a question the boy hadn't been ready to answer – that alone was satisfaction enough to him, knowing that Adam Chandler, too, would have a hard time with that particular child, seeing that he was Harry's therapist.

"Why don't you go to your room, Harry?" He said to the bundle of child that was still hidden beneath his cloak. "I am sure that the parcels from Gladrag have already arrived, and they need to be packed into your wardrobe."

"They're here." Adrian piped up. "They've arrived after lunch, and I've put them on Harry's bed."

"Dad?" The boy asked, peering forth from the cloak, and with a heavy sigh he realized that this started to become a habit, the boy starting any question with a 'dad?'.

"Yes, Harry?" He asked back.

"What do I do now?" The boy asked, green eyes large and unsure.

"You take the clothes from the boxes and put them into the wardrobe." He said, peeling his cloak from the boy.

"But ... but how ... I've never had enough ..." The boy said before stopping.

"You have never had enough clothes to put them into a wardrobe, I know that, Harry." He said, again feeling the fury rising up in him. Of course, he knew that Harry had no other clothes than a spare Jeans, the hoodie that was three sizes too large for him, and two or three t-shirts that didn't even deserve the name. "Anyway, I am sure that you will find a way to get your clothes sorted into the wardrobe, child." He then said, giving the boy a small push into the direction of his room.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, it's been nearly an hour since the boy had left for his room, and he wondered how long it took the boy to get the clothes into the wardrobe. Admitted, yes, the child surely had no practice in such, seeing that he'd never had enough clothes to put away in the first place, and yes, it was a lot of clothes to put away, too, but surely it couldn't take the boy that long, and with a frown on his face he got off the armchair and went towards his son's room.

He didn't have to open the door. He never had to, because the boy always feared closed doors – and he was sure that the boy had feared them even before their imprisonment, too, seeing that the Dursleys had locked Harry into a bloody cupboard for days if they deemed it fit.

The boy was sitting on the floor, his back to the bed, his knees drawn close to his chest, and his head resting on top of his arms that laid on his drawn knees. And from the soft sobbing sounds, and the slight and irregular shaking of the boy's shoulder, he was crying.

Looking down at the child and watching him for a few seconds he noticed one of the new t-shirts grasped tightly in the boy's fingers, crumbling the material.

"Harry?" He asked, coming closer but gaining no answer from the boy.

"What is wrong, child?" He asked, kneeling down beside his son, at least getting a headshake this time.

"But there seems something wrong, son." He softly said, reaching out and touching the boy's chin, lifting Harry's head so that he had to look at him. The emotional pain and the lack of understanding of the situation he was seeing in his son's eyes, made him once more realizing – he needed to visit the Dursleys, not only to collect whatever there might be left at Privet Drive, but to view some memories, too, to punish them, and to offer his son a chance to have a closure, even if he knew that the child would never be able to have a normal life like any other child, the Dursleys had robbed such from the child forever.

"Don't know." The boy finally sobbed. "There's no problem at all, sir. I ... I have so many new things, a home, a family, friends, my own room, and new clothes, toys and books even and ... and a lot of food, too, and even if I'm in trouble, then I'm not beaten, or hungry, or locked in my cupboard, and ... I ... I just don't know if I deserve it. Uncle Vernon always said I don't deserve anything, but if I don't deserve it, then ... then it can't last. You ... you've been so good to me and ... even though I'm in trouble and ... I don't want to ... I don't want to like it here, because ... because it'll end and then ..."

"It won't end, Harry." He said, firmly. "Your uncle lied to you, like he lied about so many things. You do deserve this, all of this, and you will have it as long as you wish to. I gave you this family and home, and I won't take this away from you, not ever. And what do you mean by – even though you're in trouble, Harry? Why would you be in trouble?"

"Cause ... 'cause I've said you ... 'cause I've said you tricked me, at the hospital." The boy still sobbed.

"That is no reason at all to be in trouble, Harry, not to mention that you actually have been right in the first place, we did trick you." He said, sitting down beside the child and leaning against the bed, pulling the teenager close. "And even if you were in trouble, Harry, then it would be still no reason at all to withdraw food from you, to beat you, or to lock you away, and I will absolutely never do so."

"I want to believe you so much, and I really try to." The boy said, hiding his head in his robes, and he ran his hand over the bony back. "But then I'm doing something stupid, and I can't help thinking of ..."

"It is not your fault, Harry." He seriously said. "You cannot fight against your body's natural reactions that were hammered into your brain by your relatives. It will take time, a lot of time, and these reactions will, of course, surface in situations where you're tired or stressed. It is a normal reaction of your body, child, and no reason to blame yourself for anything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." The boy said. A 'sir' again, of course. Merlin, this child had so many things to deal with – sometimes he didn't know where he could even start.

"Are you ready for a game of pyramids?" He asked, causing the boy to look up at him with a questioning face, what he had wanted, to distract the child before bedtime.

"What is it?" Harry asked, satisfying him with falling for his little trick – again.

"You just put on your pyjamas." He said, getting off the floor and pulling the child with him. "You'll be easier to put to bed later, after you have fallen asleep on me, if you're already in your pyjamas."

"But I'm fourteen!" The boy called out, horrified. "I don't need to be put to bed!"

"It would hardly be the first time that I've put you to bed during the past month, Harry." He huffed at the child's outburst.

"But I'm too old to fall asleep on you!" The boy said.

"And yet, somehow I know that you're going to do just that anyway." He said. "And now you go and put on your pyjamas, Harry."

It was barely ten minutes later that Harry was sitting down beside him on the sofa in their living room while he prepared the game, sticking the pins into the soft board, one pin into one small square on the board so that they formed a ball.

"We have to take pin for pin, never mind which, and move them out of the circle and towards our respectable sides of the board." He explained while the boy pulled up his legs on the sofa, scooting closer to him and the small game so that he could see it better. "That way we both gain the same number of pins and then we have to start forming a pyramid. We can only move a pin over one square, and we can only jump over one pin. The first player unable to do his move will lose."

"And what if we don't get all the pins out of the circle?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Well, it's all the way the same, the first player unable doing his move loses." He said, again amazed at the concentration the child could afford if he was interested.

"'k, that won't be too easy." The child said, already staring at the board attentively.

"Hmm, I can see you liking something like this." He mused.

It was barely an hour later that Harry was laying on the sofa, his head resting in his lap, fast asleep, just as he had predicted, and he smirked while picking the child up and carrying him into his room, putting him to bed and covering him with a blanket before he sat down into the chair closest to his son's bed, watching his child.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
Socks, mistakes, and puzzles

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 98
Gryffindor 53
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01