Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 15th 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

"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.

A few days more
Chapter fifteen
Socks, mistakes and puzzles

Well, of course the boy had fallen asleep on him last night, like so often lately, and one should wonder if the child was really a teenager already and not a small toddler. On the other hand – this particular teenager had missed so much physical comfort, of course he was soaking up any physical comfort he could now get, like a sponge. The child had tried to make it alright for his 'family', but never mind how hard the boy had tried, it had never been good enough, and those people had been damn good at letting him know just that. Of course, the child was in desperate need of catching up on the need of comfort.

He just – he would have never thought that it would be him, helping a teenager in catching up on physical comfort, or mental comfort, never would he have thought that it would be him, giving a teenage boy a family.

Schooling his face into his usual unreadable mask he handed three galleons over to the boy – who looked up at him with large and questioning green eyes, just like he had known the teen would do.

"I ... I don't understand, Professor." The boy asked, his voice unsure and soft, incredulous.

Professor.

Of course the boy was back to 'professor'.

"Your allowance, Harry." He said. "In the wizarding world it is common to provide a child with a few galleons each month or week, dependent on the financial position of the family. And so, I will, of course, provide you with a weekly allowance just like any child would get. It is what you deserve, Harry."

"But ... but you already bought ..." The boy whispered, green eyes watching him unsurely, startled – scared.

"That what you need has nothing to do with any allowance or reward I set for you, nor with any removal of said allowance or reward, or any other punishment I set." He said. "One is what you just need, irrespective of any behaviour you show, while the other – reward and any other agreement like your allowance, or any punishment – is dependent on your behaviour. And seeing that your behaviour was very well since the beginning of the school year, you do deserve your allowance."

Again, it was clearly written in the boy's pale face what he felt, wondering how he could deserve any kind of allowance or reward – while at the same time realizing that he had never gotten such from his aunt and uncle, realizing what he had missed, not only food and care, love, but such things like rewards or an allowance, too. He could actually see the wheels in the boy's head turning, could see the disappointment at his relatives in his eyes – until there was the unsureness back, the child wondering how he, Harry Bloody Potter, now Snape, could deserve anything at all, and he sighed.

He had hoped that his son would see the difference, and would start seeing not only how much had been denied of him, but how much he had suffered, too – and how much he did indeed deserve. But the boy didn't see the difference, not for longer than a short moment in which he felt disappointed at his relatives failing him – no, the boy still thought it was an absolute normal and correct occurrence, his aunt and uncle beating him, starving him, and locking him away, denying him any comfort or assistance.

"I suggest you pack the money into your room and prepare for breakfast in the great hall." He said, calmly.

"But it's Sunday, and you said we could have breakfast here on Sundays." Draco said, frowning at him and he sighed.

"I do remember the agreement we have made earlier in the week, but today is a special day and our presence is required for breakfast in the great hall." He said.

"Why is it a special day, Severus?" Neville asked, the boy sitting beside Draco, and he started to see a pattern – Draco and Neville becoming close friends, like Draco, Theodore and Harry while Adrian was clinging to Harry and Miles clinging to Neville. A group of six children that grew closer and closer with each day that passed.

"You will see if you move your backside from that sofa and start walking towards the great hall, Neville." He huffed at the boy. "And preferably before breakfast is over." He added, watching Hermione, Pansy and Millicent getting off the other sofa, quickly, Emma clinging to Hermione like Adrian and Miles were clinging to Harry and Neville.

Vincent and Gregory were both close to the sextet but not really members of the group but rather two autonomic children standing for themselves while Cameron was trying to be closer to the sextet. It was strange – Cameron who always had been very close to his own class, to the children of his age, was now trying to make ground with the fourth and second year students, thus creating one of the strangest mixtures Hogwarts had ever had, while Vincent and Gregory, who had always been dependent on Draco, were now autonomously acting on their own.

The others had become a light group, mixing with one or another in various combinations, often being seen with either the sextet or the quartet too, except for Ronald and Blaise.

He didn't worry about Blaise, that boy always had been a loner, since his first year at Hogwarts, never belonging to one or another group while he got along with everyone, even with students from other years or houses, and it was the same now, Blaise got alone with everyone while he didn't belong to a group, but the boy was happy the way it was.

It was different with Ronald. Ronald Weasley was like an outcast, the others accepting him in their new house but not trying to befriend him or to integrate him in one or another of their groups and friendships, all of them remembering what the red-haired boy had done to hurt a friend, and he himself didn't try to make friends either, keeping to himself.

But where Blaise was able to "visit" one group or another, Ronald wasn't and rather reacted with the first signs of depressions.

Well, he knew that he had two choices now, and he knew that he had to act soon – he could either keep Ronald in their house and then he would have to do something that would help the boy finding a new group – what he preferred – or he would have to give Ronald back to Minerva, what most likely only would end in stoking hate. Not to mention that, never mind if he liked the general situation or not, Ronald Weasley was one of them and he belonged in this house here.

He would just have to find a way to integrate the boy into the house, nearly a mission impossible, nearly, because he wouldn't be Severus Snape if he didn't find a way. He'd had other difficult kids in his care.

With a heavy sigh he followed the children out of their quarters. Blast that idiot minister for magic, and blast these idiot headmasters of several magical schools for their idiot decisions.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Good morning, good morning, and what a wonderful morning it is." Albus said upon the great hall being filled to nearly the last seat, a rare occasion on mornings, especially on Sunday mornings.

"Does Professor Dumbledore always have the same greeting on Sunday mornings?" Neville whispered while leaning towards Draco, and the Potions Master huffed.

"The headmaster does always have the same greeting upon announcing something he knows the students won't like." He answered the boy's question, shaking his head.

"Great." Harry groaned and he smirked at the boy.

"I have a few announcements to make for this year." Albus started his speech, and he leaned back, folding his arms in front of his chest – here it came. "Maybe you all have noticed that, so far, no Quidditch tryouts, and no training sessions have been scheduled for this school year."

"There was no Quidditch while we were ... away?" Harry asked, looking up at him incredulously and he nodded his head, seriously this time.

"And even though many of you won't like it, this year will be no Quidditch, at all." Albus said, lifting both his hands before the groans and the startled and shocked gasps coming from the student body could turn into full-throated complaints. "I know, I know, but instead, we will present you with a much more interesting, captivating and magical event – the triwizard tournament."

Many 'ahhh's and 'ohhh's were heard at that while others – the muggle born and the muggle raised children – were at a loss of what the triwizard tournament could be, Harry included.

"A competition between three magical schools, in which one representative of each school, will have to solve riddles that are designed to test the champions in many different ways, in their magical skills, their daring, their judgment, and in their ability to cope with danger, and face magical creatures – to win the prize of 1.000 galleons and unending fame and glory."

Well, and now it was out, the dangerous secret, and he scanned the great hall beneath half lidded eyes, again wondering why Albus would agree to such risks.

Well, Diggory from Hufflepuff definitely looked eager, as did Clearwater from Ravenclaw and Wood from Gryffindor. Derrick and Bole from the Slytherin house, too, looked definitely interested – as did the Weasley twins, and he would have to take a serious word with his two new apprentices – they were definitely too young for that. He didn't worry too much about the two Slytherins looking interested – he had taught them enough sense so that they would rethink their action twice or even thrice before adding their names, weighing the risks and the fun, or fame. The best chances he thought, would be on Wood's side, the young Gryffindor was – except of Harry and Cameron – the best Quidditch player he had ever seen, after all, but would it be enough to make it through the triwizard tournament?

Diggory, too, was good. He knew the Hufflepuff Quidditch player from games they had lost against Hufflepuff, but he also knew that the boy would have a very hard time staying alive in that blasted competition, let alone win it. And Clearwater? The girl still looked eager, and he was sure – would she have the chance, she would add her name into the goblet immediately.

"So, let us greet the delegation from Beauxbatons under the lead of Madam Maxime ..." Albus announced, and the double winged doors of the great hall opened, Maxime leading in the girls from her school in France – all in light blue dresses, white and pretty faces and soft bodies. He immediately knew that none of these girls would stand a chance. Not that they would lack the magical abilities, he didn't doubt that, but they all lacked the harshness and the roughness needed in such a competition.

He knew Maxime of course, and the giant woman was anything than a harmless giant princess, but she wouldn't be able keeping her girls in a competition like this, not if they had to face dragons and what other dangerous creatures might arise, perhaps even death, they would run before the threat.

He noticed Harry making a face at their girlish behaviour, and he smirked at the boy while Ronald, Dean and Seamus were melting away at their arrival. He wouldn't have wondered if the red-head had started drooling while he turned his head this way and that way to see better – while Hermione gave a huff away followed by a "they're Barbie dolls" coming from Emma.

"... and the delegation from Durmstrang." Dumbledore announced the next arrival, the doors to the great hall opening again, and Igor Karkaroff was leading in his students.

Yes, they were more like not only surviving the competition but winning, too, the young men looking very much like the Slytherins, rough, dark and determined, while he knew that – just like with his Slytherins – it was only a mask they were showing.

The girls from Beauxbatons had been taking seats at the Ravenclaw and at the Hufflepuff tables while the boys from Durmstrang were looking around darkly. But he knew that the 'looking around darkly' was only to conceal their 'looking around unsurely', and he cast a small fireball that led them to the Slytherin table.

He watched Karkaroff approaching the head table and Albus, greeting the other wizard with open arms that ended in an embrace, and he scrunched his face in disgust at the gesture. He knew that Karkaroff was a showoff, a coward and a deceiver, a man that would stab his own brother's back if he could buy his skin with the act. A man that had bought his way out of Azkaban by not only money but by friends and brothers he had sold, even giving false names just to save himself.

"Do you chaf a seat for me, Professor?" Came a hard-edged but soft voice and looking up he noticed one of the Durmstrang students standing at their table, still unsurely. "Thee other table is full."

He cast a quick glance at the Slytherin table, seeing that indeed there was no place left even though there wasn't the full number of children in the house left after the fifth house had been created by Hogwarts, and he inclined his head, moving to his left a bit, closer to Harry, and thus making space for the boy.

"That ... that is ... Dean! That's Victor Krum! That's the Bulgarian seeker who played at the Quidditch world cup!" He heard Ronald whispering and he frowned at the Weasley boy who gaped open-mouthed at the new addition at their table.

"And you are acting uncourtly, Mr. Weasley." He calmly said, piercing the boy with one of his more sterner glares, and the red-head got his senses back, concentrating back on the situation instead of the Bulgarian Quidditch Celebrity sitting at their table.

"I bid my apology, Professor." Krum said and he frowned. Did everyone he had to deal with, have a constant apology on their lips?

"There is no need to apologize, Mr. Krum." He said. "I suggest you take some food and start eating. Knowing Igor Karkaroff, he has been sleeping on that ship of his, while you had to sail all the way to the Hogwarts lake by yourself. You must be hungry, eat. That goes for you, too." He then added to the other children on his table. "I am sure that whatever the headmaster has to say, you will be able listening while you have your breakfast."

And as if his words had been a command – "The champions from each school will be selected by the Goblet of Fire." Albus continued in his explanation now that Maxime and Karkaroff as well as the students from their schools were placed. "Any student who wishes to partake in the competition, will have to write their names and their school at a piece of parchment and then drop it into the Goblet of Fire that will be placed in the antechamber beside he great hall, note however, that for safety reasons only students that are seventeen years old or older will be able to partake in the triwizard tournament."

Well, if there had been many groans of displeasure at Albus' announcement about Quidditch being cancelled for the school year – now there was a storm of displeasure ripping through the great hall.

"To make sure that this rule won't be broken, I will draw an age line around the Goblet of Fire the moment the artefact will be placed in the antechamber." Albus continued, ignoring the storm and he made a note to himself, too. Albus might cast an age line around the goblet – but he would add an age potion, too, just in case. "Also please note, that you should not enter this tournament lightly. It is a dangerous competition and once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is bound to not only enter the tournament but to partake in the tasks until the end, it is a binding magical contract and there can be no reconsider once you have been chosen by the goblet. I therefore ask you to only drop your name into the goblet if you are really prepared to partake in the competition with all the consequences."

Well, at least Albus didn't take this lightly, didn't encourage the students to drop their names into the goblet. That didn't change the fact, however, that he didn't like the tournament being played at all. It was a dangerous competition in which children had died in the past, and it had been banned with a reason.

"All of you, who are seventeen years old or older, will have a week to drop your name into the goblet." Albus continued. "The goblet will be placed in the antechamber overnight and you will have access to the artefact during the entire next week beginning Monday morning just before breakfast. Next Sunday evening during dinner, the goblet will return the names of the three students which the artefact has deemed most worthy to represent their schools. The students that are chosen to become champions are still bound to
partake in most classes, but can be freed from several lessons during the school year – and homework – to prepare for the respective tasks. Seeing that the partakers are seventeen year old young adults, I assume that you are reasonable enough to make your own decisions about missing lessons. That is all for now, so let's have a happy dig into your breakfast."

He couldn't help snorting at yet another ridiculous saying coming from Albus, but then he sighed, watching his children.

"Imagine, everlasting glory and honour." Weasley whispered, the boy's blue eyes glinting in the light cast by the thousands of candles in the great hall.

"I've had enough of that for a lifetime." Harry growled at his friend. "I hope that now, that I'm not Harry Bloody Potter anymore, I will be finally, left alone with all that crap."

"But imagine, Harry. all the things you could do if you'd be champion and win that cup." The red-head raved over the thing and he sighed.

"I would prefer the house cup or the Quidditch cup, really." Harry said, concentrating on his food, casting hidden and unsure glances at Krum every now and then, while he was sitting there, clearly wanting to cut the slice of toast into half like he always did but not daring encase Krum, who didn't know their eating habits, wouldn't understand – while at the same time he was just unable to take the uncut slice of toast for eating it.

"Seeing that there has been a fifth house added, and seeing that there is a fifth point glass in the great hall, too, I am sure that our house, as small as it is, will be partaking in the house cup. And now you just cut that slice of toast in half and eat." He said, combining the answer to Harry's unsureness to his spoken thoughts so that Krum wouldn't take too much notice.

But of course the seventeen year old was far more perceptive than that.

"Vy vould the children haf to cuut their toast in half?" Krum asked unsurely looking down at his own toast, clearly wondering if he had to do the same and if he had made a mistake and broken a strange English tradition in not halving his food.

Well, he had two possibilities now – he could either clear the situation now and forever, even if he took risk to drive Harry and a few others into not eating anything at all, or he could have more such awkward moments in near future, the Bulgarian boy asking such questions every now and then because he didn't understand, because he would fear he'd made a mistake.

Well, he would handle it the way he had always handled things, the way he had handled Harry's and Theodore's nightmares back then, when they had been locked down in the dungeons, and taking a sip of his coffee he leaned back in his chair.

Harry had gotten pale, watching him and Krum with his usual unsure and scared eyes whenever there was a situation that was over his head, as did Adrian, and even Theodore.

"These children here have been starved for a long time due to an accident, Mr. Krum, and some of them had not been provided with much food at home before that either, due to child neglect or child abuse." He started to explain, calmly, trying to ignore the horrified look his son regarded him with, and he answered with his own pointing look at Harry's plate, signaling the boy to go on eating. "Some of them, like Harry, nearly died just two weeks ago and during the time of their imprisonment. They all have developed their own rituals to cope with not only the situation but with the little food that had barely kept them alive for weeks, and now they have to find their own ways back to a life in freedom and liberty."

Taking a deep breath he looked over the children for a moment, his eyes resting on the disappointed eyes of his son for a moment before he concentrated back on Krum.

"You will stumble over more of such situations which you won't understand if you remain sitting with these children." He then said, looking into the boy's dark eyes. "And you will have to accept them with as little fuss and questions as possible to prevent awkward situations that will only make it harder for the children. I also ask you to maintain silence and to respect the privacy of this small house. They will talk to you or any other students the moment they are ready to, but that lies in their own decision, and until then, it is no business of the entire school."

"Oh." The boy made, looking uncomfortable. "I bid my apology. I did not vant to make anyone feel bad."

"Apology accepted, Mr. Krum." He said, placing the coffee cup back on the table. "And now I suggest you go on eating, that goes for you too, Harry." He then added with another pointed look at the boy. Adrian and Theodore had done just that the moment they had realized that there was no danger, and that Severus had the situation under control. Not so his son. Of course not. Of course, the boy sat there, like frozen, and he hadn't even taken the knife to cut the toast into his usual two pieces.

Sighing he took the boy's plate and cut the slice in two. He added scrambled eggs and then pushed the plate back to his son.

"Eat, Harry." He said, his own dark eyes resting on the pale face. "There is no need to be scared, you are not alone here, and you have all the time you need. We won't run away and leave you alone, and neither will the plate be taken from you before you have finished your breakfast. I am here, child." He then added, softly, causing the boy to take a deep breath and to give a curt nod away before concentrating on the toast.

He knew the reason as to why Harry had so much trouble handling a complete slice of toast – it was simply too large for the boy.

Not generally, a slice of toast generally was not too large for a fourteen year old boy's hands, and it would fit into Harry's hands, too, even though the teen was smaller than even Adrian was, but it was because the boy was not used to holding much food or large food in his hands, he was not used to holding any food in his hands for himself, actually, and the simple slice of toast felt just too large for Harry, the boy feeling overwhelmed and assaulted by the food, feeling that he could never manage eating all he held in his hand – and then getting scared by a simple slice of toast.

He was however a Slytherin, and he knew how he had to take his children. He knew that Harry actually melted at his use of the term 'child', that said child reacted to the word. Harry would do everything if he was called a child, or at least he would do his best to please him, Severus, he knew that, and honestly – it was no wonder. This child had never been allowed being a child, neither at home nor at school, so of course he would now long for such a term being directed at him. As much as he longed for someone who was there for him, who would stand beside him, who would take care of him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Harry." He called the boy and his son looked up at him.

It had taken Harry a long time to finally finish his breakfast, longer than usual, but like he had promised, he had been there, as had the others, waiting for him while having fun.

Karkaroff had come to their table at one point during the morning and he had prepared himself for the worst.

Of course he knew Karkaroff from his times as a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks, and so he knew that Karkaroff was a Death Eater par excellence – he was no bit happy about his presence at Hogwarts at all, and he was just another reason to being angry at Albus for allowing a known Death Eater to enter the school.

Flashback

"Severus, my old friend!" The man called out even before he had reached their table completely and he stood, just in case Karkaroff might get the idea of taking a seat at their table himself. He wanted to prevent that at any costs. That man didn't belong at their table, and he would not allow him there. "I have missed you at the teacher's table. Is it common now to dine with your students?"

"I prefer the students' curiosity to Trelawney's chatter and Moody's lack of table manners." He said, causing Draco to snort, and he folded his arms in front of his chest to prevent Karkaroff from embracing him like he had done with Albus – and any other person he knew, and called 'my old friend', the imbecile already having lifted his arms for that gesture.

"Ah, still the misanthrope, I see." Karkaroff laughed. "But admit it, Severus, you have welcomed my students in your house happily."

"I am no longer the head of Slytherin, as you have surely noticed, but the head of a new house established at Hogwarts." He growled.

"A small house, Severus, they have downgraded you." The imbecile said, nearly sounding accusingly.

"I have chosen this house as mine, Igor, and I had my reasons." He said, barely able to keep himself from seething at the idiot man. He never really had hated Harry, even back then, during the past three years, it had only been dislike that had started because the boy was James Potter's son, and because he had looked so much like Potter Senior, too, but had he never really hated the boy. He did, however, despise Karkaroff. He despised cowards that would stab and sold their brothers and friends for their own skin, and Karkaroff was just that, a coward without one single bone.

"Ahhh, very well, Severus." Karkaroff smiled at him, the idiot not realizing the danger he was in. "I see that Victor has found a place at your small table. Maybe you will come and visit me at my ship for a glass of good vodka while I am here."

"Mr. Krum is welcomed at this table, but I doubt that I will visit you, Igor." He said. "I have many obligations here at the castle, and I barely have time for my own."

"What a shame, Severus." The man still smiled. "But we still have one or another meals together here at your castle, and I am sure we will have one or another chat."

"I am sure we will, Igor." He said. "If you excuse me, now, I still have a few things to care for with my students before lunch."

"But of course, of course, my old friend, Victor, come." Karkaroff said, waving his student over, and he noticed that the boy only got off the chair with an unhappy sigh, slower than he should and without looking at anyone, only murmuring a soft "good bye" before following his headmaster out of the great hall.

"He doesn't seem to like his headmaster." Theodore softly said.

"No, I don't think he does." He answered, his eyes thoughtfull at the double winged doors of the entrance hall through which the two had gone, and he was sure that at least Theodore, Draco, Harry, Adrian and Cameron knew what he was thinking. He would have an eye on the situation.

End flashback

"Professor?" Harry's questioning voice got him out of his thoughts.

Of course – another 'Professor' instead of a 'dad' or at least 'Severus'. It had been a strenuous day so far, and Harry was tired – and whenever the boy was tired, he got unsure and scared.

"The headmaster has required our presence, Harry, so let's visit this bloody old fool." He then said, taking a deep breath.

"What does Professor Dumbledore want?" Harry asked, slipping into his shoes and taking the school cloak from one of the hooks which were attached to the hallway wall that led to the children's rooms.

"I have no idea." He answered, watching the boy coming closer, and he opened the door, led the child outside into the dungeons corridors. "I suggest we get that visit over with, and then we will know more."

"Professor?" The boy asked after a few moments they had walked in silence.

"Yes, Harry?" Looking down he noticed his son walking with his right arm extended towards the wall a bit, not really touching the wall but being close to it, as if looking for support should he fall, and frowning he noticed the unsure steps, too. Yes, the boy was very tired, and it was only one more proof of how weak he still was.

"Have ... have I done everything alright?" Harry asked, a question the boy had never before asked and he stopped, halting his son, too, with a hand on the small and bony shoulder. The boy immediately tensed up, looking up at him with unsure and scared green eyes, and he took a deep breath.

"You have done everything correctly, Harry." He answered.

Of course, he knew that this particular question was always in the forefront of his son's mind, Harry always fearing that he would make a mistake and disappoint him, his new father, but so far, he had never dared asking – at least not in this wording.

'Have I made a mistake?' would have been the child's kind of question, or 'did I do something wrong?' but – 'have I done everything alright?' was ...as if the child thought he was bound to do everything without mistakes.

"You have made absolutely no mistake, child." He answered. "But even if you had, then it would not be the end of the world. You are a child, Harry, despite what people so far have told you, or expected of you, you are still a child, and as a child you are not only bound to make mistakes, but you are allowed to make mistakes, too. Let's get walking, Harry." He said, leading the startled boy further towards the entrance hall and the marble staircase that would lead to Albus' office.

"We all make mistakes, Harry, not only children but adult and grown people, too." He then calmly explained. "We make mistakes, and we learn from our mistakes. If we didn't make a mistake, then we couldn't learn from it, and then, perhaps, we wouldn't know how to react in a dire situation. Just one example: any mother would tell her child to not touch the stove because it is hot. But a child normally does touch the hot plate anyway because in the beginning a child doesn't know what 'hot' means. After the child has burned its hand it knows just that – that a hot plate is hot, and that it hurts, and that way the child develops the reflex to pull back his hand upon coming close to something hot, or any otherwise dangerous thing, an important reflex, and a reflex the person would have never developed without the mistake made in his youth."

The boy stopping beside him caused him to stop, too, and to look down, just to see his son lifting his own hand, palm up, staring at his palm. Well, so Harry had made the same mistake and had touched the hot stove despite his aunt's warnings, so the boy did have that reflex to pull back his hand.

A moment later however he frowned when he cast his own look at the boy's palm and he couldn't help reaching out, taking his son's wrist and pulling his hand closer, with his other hand keeping the boy from closing his own hand and then tightening his grip when Harry tried to pull his hand back.

A child that touched the hot stove would automatically pull the hand back, quickly, before it was hurt enough for the skin to get scarred. Harry's palm however was scarred, and not only a bit scarred but the entire palm being scarred, badly scarred, included the fingers and the finger tips, a thick layer of scarred skin, and immediately he knew that the contact had not only been for a split second, but for many agonizing seconds.

Narrowing his eyes and ignoring the startled look on Harry's face he inspected the scarred palm closer, trying to find more, before he took the boy's other wrist, lifting Harry's other hand and inspecting the other palm, the boy's right one. It wasn't burnt.

Slowly lifting his eyes until they met the startled large, green eyes of his son, he didn't even have to use legilimency to see, and immediately he could see Lily's sister, holding the hand of a small and screaming boy that tried to get free onto the hot plate, screaming at him because he had accidentally burnt the breakfast bacon in the frying pan.

Wordlessly he pulled the boy close and drew his son's head against his stomach, holding him in a tight embrace while he needed a moment to get his own emotions back under control.

He knew a lot of abuse, the Death Eaters surely not being gentle with their children and punishment was doled out quickly and severely, without thinking even, them beating their children with canes and whips, not minding drawing blood – but never would they starve a child until said child's metabolism collapsed, and never would they hold their children's hands onto a burning plate until the skin was glued to the hot metal – and nothing else had it been what Petunia had done.

"Do not mix up my earlier words, and what your aunt has done to you, into something normal that occurred to many children." He then said, slowly, keeping his voice as calm as possible. "A child that would touch the stove despite the warning from his mother would automatically pull his hand away a split second later, and before any harm is done. And except of the skin reddening and hurting for a moment or perhaps a few hours, nothing would happen. There would be no injury, there would be no scar, and surely not the entire palm being scarred as badly as is yours. What your aunt has done to you, it was child abuse, and do not say it was not because it was. It was inhuman and clearly forbidden, and she will pay for what she has done. No, Harry, do not look so startled." He then added when the boy looked up at him with his eyes going large again, and he pulled the boy's head back against his stomach. "Do not think for one moment, that I won't have her standing account for her actions, or your uncle. They need to be punished and I will see it done. And do not think for one moment, that you always have to make sure you won't make a mistake, because I will never punish you for a simple mistake, and surely not with such cruelly."

He scowled at a fourth year Hufflepuff who had lost his way and landed himself near the dungeons corridors, gaping at him open-mouthed upon seeing him cradling Harry in a tight embrace, running his hand over the teen's back to give what comfort he was able to give, but he refused to let go of his son right now. He would give the idiot Hufflepuff a punishment that would make sure he would never again lose his way and land himself close to the dungeons except for potions or detentions with him – the little fact that the Hufflepuff common room was underground just as well, didn't matter.

He waited until the idiot student was gone before he tightened his embrace for a moment and then released the boy that had become his son so quickly, and so completely. He knew that the boy had cried for a moment, but he didn't comment on it. He didn't comment anything else at all while leading him through the entrance hall and towards the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office.

"Milky way" He said with a suffering sigh at the yet another favourite sweet from Albus.

A moment later the stony stairway turned to bring them upwards in a constant spiral. Normally, he would speed up the process in climbing the moving staircases too, but now, with Harry, he just waited until they had reached the top and therefore Albus' office, having an arm lightly laying around his son's shoulders.

"Severus, Harry, nice to see you." Albus greeted them upon their entering, smiling at them happily. "Take a seat, both of you. I've never congratulated you two for becoming a family but well, better late than never, isn't it? Lemon Drop?"

"Thank you, Albus, but no." Severus declined and he smirked when Harry shook his head, too. "There is something you wanted to discuss with us?"

"Straight to the point, Severus, like always." Albus sighed. "Can't an old man have a simple conversation with his favourite teacher and his favourite student?"

"I do know you better than that, Albus." He huffed at the old man. "If you wanted small talk, then you would have come down to the dungeons and visited us in our quarters."

"I am an old man, Severus, and you have cut off any shortcut that would lead to your quarters." Albus said, looking at him accusingly like a small child that was chided and taken away his favourite toy. "At least those known to us, and walking down all those stairs afoot, I am too old for that, my old bones wouldn't manage. Surely you wouldn't want me to die of a heart attack."

"You are far from risking a heart attack by climbing stairs, Albus." He scowled. "And surely not from descending them either ... and concerning your old bones, I am sure that in a race from your office to the lowest part of the dungeons and back, with one or another student, you would easily win. So – what is it you have asked us into your office for?"

"You are no fun, Severus, not a bit." Albus smiled, winking at Harry and he shook his head.

"Have I ever made the impression that I would like to be fun, Albus?" He asked in his most suffering tone of voice, causing Harry to smile. It wasn't a laugh like he had hopd, but it was a smile and that was better than nothing at all.

"Of course not, Severus, your reputation does fit you very well." Albus said, smiling too, and he took a deep breath to calm his temper. "But well, let us get to the reason for your presence. You do remember, Harry, that Sirius Black is your godfather, don't you?" The old coot then asked, leaning forwards in his chair, and looking at Harry intently.

Black.

Of course Black would appear at one point or another.

"Yes, sir." Harry softly said, clearly sounding unsure, and with a raised eyebrow he looked over at the child.

The boy definitely looked uncomfortable, scared even, and he wondered about the reason as to why. To his knowledge Harry had gotten along rather well with the mutt, not only risking being expelled, but also risking a stay in Azkaban ... or even death, by saving the imbecile's backside. Alright, they wouldn't have put a thirteen year old in Azkaban, but he had clearly risked a lot of trouble. So – why did the boy now seem to fear the mentioning of Black?

"Well, your godfather has demanded to see you, Harry." Albus said and he could feel Harry going tense at the headmaster's words.

"I don't think that the mutt has the right to – demand – anything, Albus." He softly said, slowly, his senses on alert. He didn't like the way Harry tensed at the mentioning of his god-mutt.

"Please, Severus." Albus chided. "Sirius Black is his godfather and the boy needs him in his life."

"Professor?" Harry's voice – Harry's clearly scared voice – kept him from giving away an acerbic remark. "Dad?"

"What is it, son?" He asked, exactly knowing the reason as to why the boy – for once – dared adding a 'dad' to the 'professor' upon a situation in which he felt unsure of his situation or position.

"I ... I don't want to be ungrateful, and ... and I really like Sirius ... but ... I mean ... I do have you, haven't I?" The boy asked with a soft voice. "And ... I don't really know how to balance another adult in my life. I ... I don't ... I have you, haven't I, dad?"

Well, the need the boy expressed with that simple question was so clear as if he had screamed it out loud, and taking a deep breath he pulled the child close again, until the thin upper body rested against his chest.

And even despite that need his son showed, he was worried that he would lose Harry to the mangy mutt. He knew that he should trust into the relationship with the green-eyed child that was his son, if only because of that need, but he was scared.

"Of course you do have me, you foolish child. Think of Black as an eccentric uncle, Harry, you may listen to his stories, but you should never get too emotional over him, because then he would only hurt you the moment he will leave you upon a woman's skirt or a snitch crossing his way. And you will be in real trouble with your father if you ever try to follow in his steps, as they would only lead you into danger – what the end of last year had been proof of." He said in a stern tone of voice, but without releasing his son. "And you, Albus, I am perfectly willing for Harry to have a closer relationship with Black as an uncle, but nothing else, and surely I will not give up on Harry as my son for anyone, just to make that clear from the beginning on."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You look tired, Harry." He said the moment they came back to their quarters, looking the boy up and down critically. "Anything I should know about?"

"No, sir." Harry answered, sounding as tired as he looked. "I'm just ... it's been a long day, and so many things have happened today. Students from two other schools, and I don't like the headmaster from Durmstrang. And then Krum sitting at our table. And now Sirius wanting to see me. I don't know what to think, and I'm scared, dad."

"Black wishes to see you, but he won't be able to harm you, child." He said, realizing how desperate the child had to be if he used yet another 'dad' upon the unsure and for the boy scary situation. "And Karkaroff can't harm you either, he doesn't even live in the castle but on that ship of his, not to mention that he is too much a coward to try anything with my son. If you like to fear something, then you better fear my wrath if you don't stop worrying, I'm far more dangerous than is Karkaroff – or Black." He added, smiling, running his hand through the boy's hair. "Why don't you put off your shoes so that you can get comfortable in front of the fire and to enjoy the remainder of the evening?"

Barely ten minutes later they settled down in front of the fireplace, the room being silent except of the soft murmur coming from one or another of the children, except of the soft rustling of a paper being turned in Hermione's or Emma's book, and except of the softly crackling flames in the fireplace. The last hour in the evening was always the most peaceful one, the children calming down in their home, getting comfortable and sitting together in perfect harmony, without much fuss and arguments, understanding each other in silence, with a look or a single gesture only.

He could watch Diagon laying near one child or another, calmly, too, dependent on which child seemed to need her most at the moment. The blasted animal was playing during the early morning hours, waking the children – and him – one by one by trying to catch their hair that moved in the soft breeze of their breathing or by nibbling on a finger or toe that looked forth from beneath a blanket. Yesterday morning – at five – the bloody thing had even nibbled at his nose, and he had rather harshly pushed it off his bed.

The animal was also active during the night of course, but luckily not in their quarters. He didn't know how the bloody cub was able to leave their quarters – or to come back for that matter – but, and as young as Diagon was, the animal was already on the hunt during the night hours, he knew that, waking them when she got back.

In the evening hours however, the large baby wolf – and yes, it still was a baby wolf, and he was sure that Harry would be an old man the moment Diagon would be a grown predator, finally – was reacting to their calmness, snuggling close to one child or another, and at its best lazily trying to catch a moving toe or a turning page, a moving quill with movements of a tired and lazy paw.

Normally.

Right now however, he was barely able to suppress the smile that over and over again threatened to break through his stern mask.

Harry had settled down on the floor near the fire where he had spread his latest challenge.

During their outing yesterday, they had been to muggle London, because he had been running out of coffee and honestly, the only thing he would get in wizarding London was tea – all sorts of tea, and definitely tea he liked, too, but he just needed a cup of coffee first thing in the morning and there was no place in wizarding London where he could get such. So, they had been to a small shop in muggle London.

While he had gone to select his favourite blend of coffee, Harry had gone to look around and in the end he had found the boy standing in front of a carton with a picture of a house in a clearing in the midst of a forest, with a small river running between the trees and with a narrow path. There had been the edge of a lake in one part of the picture and at the upper border there had been mountains. The house itself had been a beautiful house with flowers shining in the sunset and with a softly sloping roof made of grass, with a pond and a fence.

He hadn't known why the boy would stand in front of the carton, looking at it so longingly, but when Harry had noticed him, had turned and smiled up at him, ready to leave the shop without buying anything like he had done in all the other shops, not even asking if he could have it, he had just bought the carton. Only then had he realized that there had been something inside the carton, but well, he guessed that Harry would know what it was, seeing that he had looked at it so longingly.

And right now the boy was sitting on the floor, with hundreds over hundreds of small pieces that were scattered all over the floor, while Diagon seemed to have fun hitting with her claws at one or another of the pieces, always eyeing the boy out of the corner of her eyes, always jumping back or changing tactic and trying to catch Harry's fingers whenever the boy tried to shoe her away from his task.

Flashback

Light shining through the gap of his ajar door woke him and sighing he wondered which child was unable to sleep now, deep down knowing that most likely it would be either Harry or Cameron, both children having serious sleeping disorders and he slipped into his night-robe, left his bedroom and entered their parlour. A moment later he stopped in his tracks.

Harry was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, hundreds of pieces that had been the picture of the carton laying on the floor in front of him while Harry himself didn't seem to mind, and he nearly held his breath with worry. What in Merlin's name had happened that might have caused Harry to destroy the picture into hundreds of tiny pieces? The child was no child that mishandled things or destroyed anything, but a child that handled things with care and respect, so what had upset him so much, so that he would destroy the picture he had loved so much?

"Harry?" He softly asked, kneeling down beside the boy, preparing himself to find a teary face, but instead he found a pale, but calm face looking up at him, questioningly. "What happened?"

"Just couldn't sleep." The boy softly and calmly answered, and he frowned.

"But what happened so that you destroyed the picture?" He then asked, but this time it was Harry who looked up at him, frowning before the boy looked back at the destroyed picture – and then smiled at him. Smiled, the imbecile!

"It isn't destroyed." Harry answered, and he shook his head, not understanding. It clearly was destroyed, into thousands of tiny pieces! They were laying there in front of them!

"It has to be like that, dad, it's a puzzle, and the pieces are all different in size and form. You have to put it together so that they form the picture."

Alright so – that was the reason as to why there was "1000 pieces" written on the carton. He already had wondered about that, and only now did he notice that those pieces were not ripped apart, but that they seemed to have similar forms, some of them having rounded tabs, and other having hollowed-out spaces, some having both, and they were clearly cut mechanically.

"Thousand pieces, and you have to put them back together into the picture?" He asked, at a loss about why anyone would want to sit down and repair a broken thing by hand, piecing it together slowly, and bit by bit instead of using a single reparo charm, but as Harry seemed to be very calm despite the boy having been unable to sleep – he didn't mind. "I could help you with a simple spell, Harry." He offered, frowning.

Harry should know the reparo by now, in his fourth year, but then – the boy was muggle raised, he was not used to doing things the magic way in general, and he knew that many muggle raised children often started to use magic intuitively only if they got older, if they became young adults and got out of the influence of their muggle parents.

Harry, however, looked startled at him, shaking his head.

"Please not, dad." The boy said. "It's meant to being pieced together by hand. You have to find the pieces and put them where they belong. You have to use your eyes, and your hands, and your mind, to find the pieces, it's like a game."

End flashback

Well, he had let the child, and he had looked on for some time while Harry had started to build the defect picture back together, trying to set the frame of the entire work until he had all the border pieces pieced together and the boy had since continued with his task, working on the picture every now and then for a few minutes, and he noticed that indeed the child calmed down upon his task, something he would keep in mind.

Watching the boy working his way through the pieces he noticed two different ways to do such a thing.

Sometimes Harry was picking a few pieces and looked them over more closely before he would choose one and insert it into the place where it belonged to, and at other times Harry picked one single piece and tried it at one or another place – and mostly he was correct in his guesses of which piece would fit in where.

So well – if that was what the child needed to get calm, then he would buy any puzzle available for the boy.

If only it would help with the mixed socks the child was wearing – again.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was later in the night when he entered Harry's room silently, to look at the child, and he pulled the blanket over his son's shoulder. He took the boy's foot that was looking forth from beneath the blanket and pushed it back under the blanket – again noticing that – Harry was wearing mixed socks, despite now having enough socks in pairs.

He didn't mind the child wearing socks in bed at all, Harry was cold enough all the time and any warmth that was not a warming charm and therefore magic used on the child was welcomed to him, but why would the child still wear mixed socks?

The first thing Harry had done upon coming home last night and after his clothes being placed in the dresser, had been throwing out his cousin's old clothes – and he had watched the child's face while doing so, it had been as if the child had left part for part of his past behind, as if he had gotten rid of a heavy weight that had pulled him down, and so he had been sure that the boy would be happy having complete socks in pairs, finally.

Shaking his head he made sure that Adrian, too, was covered well before he left the room and went back to the parlour, sitting down in his armchair by the fire, unable to sleep right now.

He had been to Albus' office again, just half an hour ago, after the headmaster had met him in the antechamber where he had poured an age potion into the goblet, asking him over for a moment and he had met – the mutt and his wolf.

Flashback

"Severus, please take a seat." Albus said before he could lose his temper and say something that was not appropriate. "Upon your agreement of Harry seeing his godfather, I just wished to inform you about Sirius and Remus living at the castle for a while so that it might be easier for them to meet. You know that the ministry is still in search of Sirius."

"What do you mean – they are living at the castle?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "I have not agreed to Black living that close – nor to Harry meeting with the wolf!"

"Severus, take reason." Albus said. "It will be much easier ..."

"Absolutely no, Albus!" He growled. "The agreement was that I would allow Harry to visit his god-mutt, the agreement was that I still brew the wolfsbane potion for Lupin, even though he doesn't teach here at Hogwarts anymore, which I have, but the agreement was not that I would allow my –" hesitating for a moment he took a deep breath before he continued. "The agreement was not that I would allow the brat to visit a dangerous werewolf."

"You have no authority to demand anything, Snivellus!" Black growled at him.

"Actually, I do have the authority." He calmly answered, smirking at Black's shocked face.

"What?" The idiot dog asked. "What right would you have? He isn't your son or your ward, just one of your students, and he isn't related to you at all. You're not even his head of house! What are you to him, Snape? What right do you have over him? I don't even see any reason for you to be here to discuss it in the first place!"

"I have every right!" He said, getting off the chair. "Because actually, I am his father – not to mention his head of house!"

"You ... you ... you are not, Snape!"

"I fear Severus is correct, Sirius." Albus said, trying to smooth the situation before it would go out of hands. "Severus has adopted Harry."

"Adopted ... you had no right to do such a thing, Snape."

"You are wrong, Black, because I did have that right." He calmly answered. "Harry himself gave that right to me the moment he asked me to. I am the only person who has ever looked out for his safety and for the best interests of that boy, even though I have never before shown it before, but it has been me who had been running after him, and who had kept him alive over and over again during the past three years."

"James and Lilly looked out for his interests, Snape, long before you ..."

"And now they're dead, aren't they?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow at the mutt taking a step towards him, and Lupin having to keep him back. He did not back away, and he nearly smiled at Black's anger. "That boy has no one else who wanted him, so I took him as my son."

"You know that I ..."

"You have offered him a home even though you didn't have one, Black, even though you've been on the run, without knowing anything about his background, a stupid thing to do, that had only disappointed him the moment it has been impossible for you to take him and he'd had to go back to his relatives." He said. "But have you looked out for him during the holidays? Have you checked up on him to see if he was well cared for during the holidays? No, Black, you have not, or the child would have been more healthy when he came back to Hogwarts. You are barely able to look out for yourself let alone for a child, Black."

"I wasn't able to ..."

"And you are not able now either." He said. "You are a wanted convict still. How often do you wish to hurt him again?"

"Even if Sirius can't take Harry, I could ..."

"You!" He hissed at the wolf. "What have you done for the boy except of offering him a smile and a bar of bloody chocolate? You have never checked up on him either, not once in twelve bloody years and even though you had the boy under your very nose for nearly an entire year – you have not really seen him, or you would have noticed that he was ill, wolf! You are so much centered around yourselves, both of you, pitying yourselves, you do not really think of the child and what you would do to him if you hurt him further, but only at yourselves. And now I bid you a good evening, gentlemen, because I have a son to look after before I retire for the night."

End flashback

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
shoes, socks, and something else

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