Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 18th 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

"Severus?" Albus asked and he nearly rolled his eyes, he would definitely have done so, if he weren't Severus Snape, but Severus Snape didn't roll his eyes – clearly not!
"He has in unmistakable terms told my son that I am incapable of any emotions towards the child, unable to care for him, and only using Harry for my own dark intentions." He said, placing his hands back on the child's shoulders to give what reassurance he could give. "And if you will now finally allow me to get my son home so that, perhaps, he could finally find some rest and peace, I would be so very grateful."
"Of course, Severus." Albus softly said. "Just take your son home, I'll care about the situation here."
"Good, because you'll have both hands full of work to keep Black out of prison this time." He growled angrily, tiredly. He wanted his son home and safe and he wished to go home himself. "I don't care how you keep the mutt from my son, as long as you do. Let's get you home, Harry, it's late and surely you don't wish losing house-points because you are out in the corridors after curfew – and that goes for you other imbeciles, too." He then added first to his son, and then to the other students still standing around, looking.
"You're not Harry's boss, Snivellus!" Black called out, even while the wolf tried to calm the mutt.
"No, but I am his father! Diagon!" He hissed back, turning, calling the wolf to follow them, and without another word he led the child and the animal – a wolf with a tail held tall and proud – through the entrance hall and then down the staircase that led towards the dungeons and their home.

A few days more
Chapter eighteen
Sleepless sorrow and dry skin

Taking a deep breath he realized – he was awake.

But he wasn't laying in his bed where he belonged to, and frowning he turned, slowly opening his eyes – very slowly, just in case. It wasn't that they still hurt all the time, his dad had done a great job with them and he could see nearly as good as before, and they didn't hurt anymore, normally, if he wasn't tired, but he had already noticed that – if he opened his eyes after sleep, he better did it slowly or his eyes would hurt for a long time, until after noon sometimes even, and he didn't think that it would change ever.

It wasn't that he was angry with Ron because of that, not even about the fact that his lungs, too, had made some trouble every now and then since Ron had caused the potions accident down in their classroom. It was just – he couldn't bring himself to being as close to Ron as they had once been.

He knew that he wouldn't play Quidditch anymore, even though he asked Severus about it every now and then, but he knew that he wouldn't play anymore, because he could barely see anything that was farther away than – than ... that would be as far away as a snitch could be, and he had also that scary sound in his chest whenever he did something that was a bit more strenuous than just walking along the corridors – or if he took a deeper breath than he should. Even just walking up a flight of stairs made him wheezing and catching his breath and sometimes he had to actually stop, and to lean against the wall, after having managed such a flight of stairs, pressing his hand against his chest that hurt.

So, of course, it was no wonder that he couldn't bring himself to being as close to Ron as they had been before that.

He didn't even know why Ron had done it to begin with.

And now there was another person that wanted a place in his life but hurt him. And Sirius had hurt him, there was no doubt about that. He had hurt him with what he had implied last night, and he hadn't been able to sleep after that.

Groaning in frustration – yes, he had crept into his dad's bed, into Severus' bed, for Merlin's sake, to sleep in his father's arms. But well, even though it had taken him quite a long time to settle down before, in the man's arms he had fallen asleep rather soon, and luckily he had been too tired for having nightmares – Severus Snape would surely have kicked him out of his bed.

"Stop struggling, Harry." Severus' voice growled into his ear, and he stopped moving, holding his breath even, but Merlin, he had been sleeping well, and he didn't mind the growl now.

The first thing the Potions Master realized was – there was something laying on his upper arm, using his arm as a pillow. And the second thing he noticed was – somehow he was cradling his pillow, and the blasted thing was moving – he just pulled it closer to keep it from falling off the bed and to the floor, only to realize – the bloody pillow was no pillow at all, but Harry who had come to his bed last night after his god-mutt had nearly strangled and abducted the boy and who had threatened him, Severus, with his wand pointed at him. Of course, the boy would come to his bed after such an experience, Harry was a fourteen year old teenager, but due to the abuse and neglect, he rather reminded him at a four year old child, sometimes.

Not that he had many experiences with four year old children, the only one he so far had known at that age had been Draco, seeing that he was the boy's godfather after all, but that surely didn't make him an expert on four year old, small children. And yet, while watching the boy holding his breath even, after he had told him to stop his struggling – he couldn't help thinking of a four year old.

"You do realize that breathing is a vital function of your body, Harry, and does not belong into the category of struggling?" He asked and the boy opened his eyes, looking over at him in a mixture of – being startled and sheepish. Merlin, if the boy would always be startled so easily, then he would suffer a near heart attack for all his life. "I suggest we get up and ready for breakfast." He said, pushing the boy's upper body up and into a sitting position. "It is charms and transfiguration today, I think it will be an easier day than the one yester."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

They had barely finished breakfast in the great hall, Harry clearly very tiredly, as well as Adrian. The younger boy's first question had been – where Harry had been last night.
"In my bed." He had answered, with a suffering sigh, knowing that next time his son came to sleep in his bed – Adrian would soon be there, too.

Cameron had started a conversion with Victor, but the other boy had been very monosyllabic, every now and then throwing a strange glance up at the head table where Karkaroff was sitting, at least throwing a strange glance up there whenever he allowed himself to get carried into the conversation and it was clear – the boy wanted contact with the children from Hogwarts, he just didn't dare because he feared Karkaroff, and he narrowed his eyes at the other headmaster.

He would have to be very careful, but he would have a closer eye on the man.

"What is your special subject, Mr. Krum?" He asked, leaning back in his chair after having finished his own breakfast, enjoying his second cup of coffee which he drank slower now than the first. Most of the children were still eating and Harry had barely started on his cereals. He knew that surely the boy wouldn't take a toast too, after he had finished them.

"It vas potions, Professor Snape." The boy answered and again there was that glance at the head table.

"It was, Mr. Krum?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted. "There is no need to seek confirmation – or permission – from your headmaster, boy, I won't harm you. Nor will any of my students."

"I know you von't." The boy answered, shrugging, concentrating on his own cup of coffee, too – clearly anything than looking up at the head table again, now that he had been discovered. "It vas, because potions is not permitted as – vot do you call it ... education? at Durmstrang."

"An apprenticeship." He answered, nodding his head. "I see. And you would have liked starting an apprenticeship in the fields of potions."

"I vanted to become a Master." The boy said, his voice nearly sounding angry – yet, he could also hear pride in the voice, and the boy even straightened a bit.

"I see." He said again. "What have you started concentrating on instead of potions now? It is your seventh year after all and you had to choose added subjects."

"Not at Durmstrang, Professor." The boy shook his head. "At Durmstrang ve do start training only after our seventh year. Professor Karkaroff has me listed in an institution that teaches dark arts."

"And that is not your wish, according to your tone of voice." He said, lifting his eyebrows while Harry and a few others looked between them and Karkaroff, a dark shadow going over the pale faces.

Victor Krum leaned back in his chair, watching him with his eyes narrowed before he took a deep breath.

"Professor Karkaroff has told me how much he enjoys meeting you again, Professor Snape." The boy then said. "He has told me that you and he vere close friends, and that you share his view on the dark arts. Yet, I find you not enjoying his being here as much as he said, and even if I vill get into trouble, I vill not lie to you. So, no, I do not vant to go to that institution. But he is my professor and I haf no other chance than obeying him. Good day, Professor."

And with these words the boy got off his chair and left.

It was now or never, and he knew it.

"Krum!" He ordered, sharply, getting off his own chair, too. He stood straight and tall, his head held high and his dark eyes cold, knowing that he startled some of his children but hoping that they would trust him enough to – to not being scared, to learn, to ... he didn't know what.

But well, it had an effect and Krum stopped, slowly turning around – while at the same time Karkaroff seemed to listen closely, too ... just what he wanted.

"Do not leave this table without permission, and surely not with as much disrespect as you have shown, because here, I am also your Professor as long as you attend Hogwarts." He growled at the boy. "And now you get your pitiful backside back here, sit down and wait until your housemates have finished their breakfast. Now!"

Of course, Krum didn't object to his command, not even asking him where he had been disrespectful – he obeyed like the good and quiet student Karkaroff had raised – and looking up at the head table for a moment he could see the satisfied smirk on Karkaroff's face – but well, he had made his point and he had made it clear that, the boy was a housemate of his students now, and therefore his student too, a student of his house – sort of.

"You do not have to fear any harm from my side, Victor." He said, more softly while sitting back down, too. "I have just made sure that your headmaster believes me performing as much control over you as does he, what gives you the freedom to move freely in my presence, to partake in any conversations at this table here without fear, and to have him not questioning about what has happened between you and me. And you, continue eating, Harry. I have been playing an act, noting else."

Well, there wasn't anyone saying anything – except for Krum murmuring a soft "thank you, Professor".

It was Poppy who was the next person speaking up around their table, and inwardly he already groaned – why did Poppy now think that he had overreacted? If that bloody woman would only once in a while let him act the way he thought it was right ... and important. But no – she always interfered, fearing that he was too harsh with the students and therefore getting in his way of handling his students, just for having to apologize later towards him when learning that his actions at that precise time did have a reason.

"Severus!" The woman said, softly, leaning down to him. "Molly flooed over to the infirmary and she has Ginevra with her."

"I'm coming." He said, placing his cup at the table and getting up. "Excuse me." He then said, addressing his students. "I have something to take care of. I expect you to go to your classes ... after breakfast ... and should I not be back until lunch, then I expect you all to look out for each other during the meal. Mr. Krum, I expect you here for lunch, too, even though should I not be present – you are not to miss meals."

He cast a long look at the children, one by one, Harry especially, trying to find out if the boy was too startled for classes by his behaviour earlier, behaviour that surely must have reminded him at the old Severus Snape who had made his potions lessons a living hell, back during the past three years. But except of being paler than normally recently, the boy seemed alright and gave him a nod in return, a calm nod, not a scared one, and he was satisfied.

Turning he left the hall with his usual harsh gait.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Victor regarded the students on the table he had chosen with hidden eyes.

They were a strange mixture. He knew that they were all in the same class, but there were some that were older and there were children that were younger and to his knowledge England did not hold mixed classes in their schools. English children got educated according to their age – these children here were mixed up. Different genders, different nations as far as he could tell, there was even one black boy, and different ages, most likely different religions, too – so, what did these children have in common so that they were all together in not only one small – much smaller than the others – house, but in one class, too?

The only common thing he could think of was, that they all looked thin and ill somehow and he remembered what Professor Snape had said, Sunday morning when they had come to Hogwarts, that some of these students had been neglected and abused, that there had been an accident, and that they had been imprisoned. But who would imprison children? And one of them, he thought that it was the son of the Professor, because they looked very much alike and Professor Snape was not only overly protective of this boy but very caring, too, and that boy had nearly died, Professor Snape had said so.

So – was this the house for the ill children? The school matron had come and said something to the Professor and then he had left, it would fit, because he never seemed to leave the table early. But if this was the house for the ill children, then why were there no children with other illnesses? With a broken leg? Or Dragon pox?

And if this was the house for the ill children, then why would Professor Snape of all people be the head of that house? He had heard of Professor Snape of course, and not only from Professor Karkaroff. His headmaster seemed even obsessed with Professor Snape, but he had heard of the English Professor from others, too, the man was a loyal, and very cold and harsh follower of the Dark Lord, a dark man that didn't step short before murder.

Not that Professor Karkaroff was better, and he was the headmaster of a school with children, but Professor Karkaroff didn't care about the weak and the ill children. If he were to ever come running to the man, crying about one or another thing, then the headmaster would rather beat him to death instead of caring for anything. And Professor Snape was Professor Karkaroff's ideol – because he was so cold and harsh, a hard man, because he was ready to ruthlessly kill.

What if Professor Karkaroff knew that Professor Snape only – only what? Played a role? Or had two personalities? The one that was the cold and rough person, and the one that was caring and worrying?

Professor Karkaroff would be very disappointed – and angry.

He wouldn't tell him, of course not, he was not stupid enough to do that – not to mention that, Professor Snape gave him the freedom he had always wanted, the freedom Professor Karkaroff had never allowed him, the freedom to – to think, and to think what he wanted, to think … to think on his own, to – to live.

It wouldn't last, he knew that, he wasn't stupid after all, he would either be chosen or he would die, and if he was chosen then he better won this tournament or he would die, and if he won that tournament, then they would leave, and Professor Karkaroff would take him back to Durmstrang. But as long as it lasted, he would enjoy the freedom Professor Snape had created for him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Poppy." He greeted upon reaching the hospital wing. "Molly."

"I don't understand, Poppy." Molly said, and he lifted his eyebrow. "Why would you want to see Ginny, Severus?"

"Calm down, Molly." He answered, softly. "I wished to see Ginevra because she has been ill enough to be sent home by Poppy upon her brother being missed, and seeing that I am the head of these children that suffer under these weeks, the ones locked up as well as the ones missing friends or family – that does not really make a difference – I just wanted to make sure that your daughter is really ready for the all-day life at this school, Molly. The other option would be to integrate her into the group of students that has formed the fifth house of Hogwarts."

"You mean, taking Ginny out of Gryffindor?" Molly asked, pulling the girl closer.

"Yes, I mean taking the girl out of Gryffindor, temporarily if it is amenable with you, permanently if need be – and with your permission of course." He said, watching mother and daughter exchanging a glance. "Come with me, Ginevra." He simply said, taking matters into his hand. If he waited for Molly's permission, he would wait until next year, seeing that the woman didn't seem to understand.

It wasn't that Molly and him didn't get along well, Arthur and Molly Weasley were – despite their children grating on his nerves like barely any other children – something like friends, but in Molly's eyes he was just a teacher, a Potions Master, yes, but only a teacher, not a healer, not one who knew about the human body and mind, and how to either destroy both, or to keep both safe and healthy.

"You go with Severus, Miss Weasley, I need to have a few words with your mother anyway." Poppy said, and he was very grateful for her help. He placed his hand on the girl's shoulder to lead her away from her mother, entering Poppy's office and closing the door behind them.

"Sit down, Ginevra." He said. "You have been at home for a few weeks now." He started, coming to the point at once, like always. "And now you think you are ready to visit school again. Are you sure about that? There is no need for haste after all."

"Mum said I should go back to school, or I would miss too much, and then I wouldn't pass the exams." The girl answered, frowning at him, and he nodded. Of course, Molly would be worried about that, she was a very responsible mother after all, and she cared about the education of her children.

"And she is correct in that, Ginevra." He said, waving his wand and two cups of tea appeared. He gave one of the cups to the girl before he sat halfway onto Poppy's desk, nearly enjoying the startled look on the girl's face for a moment. "But even if you wouldn't pass your end of year exams, then you could still do them next year. You wouldn't be the first student who did the year a second time."

"Mum wouldn't like that." The girl sighed.

"Most likely not." He answered. "But if you now come back to school before you are really ready to, you wouldn't be able to go through the year without struggling – with the result that, most likely, you would not pass your end of year exams anyway – your struggle would have been for nothing then."

"You know, it's strange, sir, you of all people saying that." The girl frowned at him, and he lifted his eyebrow.

"Yes, I can see your point, Miss Weasley, but I do have more than one intentions." He took a sip of the tea. "One is, I rather have you at school being healthy, and with the knowledge that I don't have to keep an eye on you instead of being ill, and the second is – you are sister and friend to some of my students, and for their own health I wish to keep them from worrying and from being distracted with an ill and struggling friend and sister. Another intent is – I got responsibility over any students that are affected by the imprisonment of the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. So, I do ask you – do you feel well enough to visit school and to go back to the all-day life at the castle without having to struggle?"

"I don't really know." Miss Weasley said. "I don't really think that I'm ready, but I've been home for too long and I ... I just don't know, and mum said it's about time and ..."

"I see." He said. "Drink your tea, Ginevra. You haven't seen your brother since breakfast on the first day of school, you haven't been here to see him when your mother came a few weeks ago."

The girl only shook her head.

"Why not?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Mum said that Ron needed peace and rest, and that I could see him later." Miss Weasley answered, and he nodded. He had known that answer would come.

"I think, you would manage, but not if you were thrown back into the crowd of students." He finally said, placing his cup at the table. "What I can offer you is a place at my house for a few weeks until you have caught up with the other students. You could learn individually like the other students I have, and that way you could catch up at your own pace."

"And what if I won't manage?"

"Then you just won't manage, it won't be the end of the world."

"I'd very much like that, but I don't think mum would like it."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I don't understand, Poppy." Molly shook her head. "What is Severus doing with Ginny?"

"I'm sure he has already cast a diagnostic charm, and aside from that, he is just talking with Ginny." Poppy answered, sighing. She knew that the Weasleys were not openly against Severus, that they got along, but sometimes Molly was a mother hen, at least when it came to her sons. If only she were worrying about Ginevra.

Of course, she worried about her daughter, too, but after having raised six sons, she didn't really know what a girl in Ginevra's position, as the only girl in the family, and the youngest child, needed.

However, her trust in Severus, when it came to his healer abilities was far from being – present at all.

"But why?" Molly asked, wringing her hands. "You have already cast a diagnostic. Why should a teacher cast one again? And why can't he do so here?"

"Because I wanted a word with Ginevra in privacy, Molly, without you hovering over her and having an influence on her answers." Severus' voice came from the office, and she watched the two coming back, the girl being worried, and Severus wearing his ever present mask that didn't allow her to read anything in his face. "I wanted to hear from your daughter how she felt about school, not what you thought the girl should think. And yes, I have cast a diagnostic, too, and I am not really happy."

"I know that Ginny is still too thin, but she's much better." Molly said, taking a deep breath.

"I do not doubt your care, Molly, do not misunderstand my words, but it is a fact that your daughter is not ready for school yet." He said. "At the very first, she should get the chance to finally see her brother for real, with her own eyes so that she can finally heal, Molly. She is not one of your boys who are tougher than that, and even they have suffered. Your twins have lost too much weight for my liking, just as well, and now imagine what this all has done to your daughter."

"Oh, Merlin, Severus!" Molly gasped, looking down at the girl, horrified, and again Poppy was amazed at how Severus managed saying the inevitable to the parents, even though it could be taken as an offence, that man simply didn't care. But well, at least she didn't have to tell them. "Have I really ... oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry, Ginny, dear! I didn't think that ..."

"Severus?" She asked, waving the man a few steps aside.

"I have found nothing you have not found, too." He answered. "I'm just worried about how slow the girl's healing goes. The other children in her position are already far healthier, and so should be Miss Weasley. I think she desperately needs to see her brother, and then she desperately needs either a small house where her needs are seen and attended to, or homeschooling where her mother can concentrate on her solely – except of that, the usual potions, nutrient potions and relaxing potions, and a lot of rest and sleep."

"Strengthening potion?" She suggested, even though she already knew Severus' answer, she knew the man after all. She just wanted to make sure.

"No, I rather had her recovering slowly than in a rash, and then risking a relapse." The Potions Master affirmed, like she'd known he would.

"But what do we do now?" She heard Molly asking and she turned, sighing. It was always bad to tell some parents that they should keep their children out of school for longer, but doing so with people she knew and liked was just the harder. But again, Severus was there.

"I can offer a place in my house for Ginevra, a small house with just twenty-four students at the present time." Severus said, his face still a stony mask and his black eyes resting on Molly calmly. "That would give her the chance to being seen and not disappear in the crowd while it would give her the chance to catch up at her own pace. And it could be for a few weeks only, it doesn't have to be permanent. The other option I would suggest is – you keep Ginevra at home for a bit longer after she has seen her brother. She needs this chance to understand and to believe completely. She needs to see Ronald, and she needs to touch him to know that he is alive for real. This is vital, Molly. And only after Ginevra has seen with her own eyes, that her brother is really alive, and not only told by you, only then your daughter can heal. But she will need more rest than she would have in that blasted lion tower, and a smaller house would provide that rest. It is your decision Molly, but you have to make this decision soon, before you throw your daughter into the crowd of students that will choke her."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Go and get socks, Harry, and preferably socks in pairs." He growled, taking the boy by his shoulder and leading him into his room. "You are cold enough already even with socks on your feet, and now you are running along these halls with bare feet? Are you deliberately risking to catch a cold, child? And what's it with this drawer again, Harry? I have sorted your socks, all of them, into pairs last night and now look at this."

"Dunno, sir." The boy said, taking a step back, and he took a deep breath to calm himself, realizing that – there was something wrong here, and he was scaring the child. "It already was like this when I needed socks this morning. But I didn't do it, really, I swear, sir."

"Calm down, Harry." He said, slowly reaching out and taking Harry's shoulder. "Take a deep breath and calm down. I am not angry, I just would like to know why your drawer is such a mess, it isn't the first time after all and it isn't like you either, seeing that generally, your room is very tidy. There has to be a reason and I would like to know it."

"But ... but I don't know it, sir!" The boy still said, allowing him to pull him close but not really relaxing. "I haven't done this and I ... I don't know why they always get mixed up."

"Hush now, child." He softly soothed, his hand running calming circles over the boy's back. "Why don't you let me in, child, and then we could see what happened to this drawer?" He softly asked. There was nothing for a while, only the child trying to not sob in his arms, and he waited. But then the boy nodded his head, clearly tired, clearly scared, but he did give his permission and gently he placed his hand over the boy's forehead, pulling him into a more comfortable position in his arms before he slowly entered the child's mind.

He knew that most likely he shouldn't do it, but it wasn't the first time that the drawer was in such a disarray, all – really all of the socks being pulled out of the pair and he knew – such a thing didn't happen by accident, nor by simply taking a pair of socks to wear this morning. And Harry had said that it had already been like this in the morning anyway, when he had taken a pair of socks to wear.

He could see Harry standing in front of his shelf, pulling out the drawer and – without being startled by the socks being in a disarray again – taking two socks, at random, not minding if they would belong together or not, and he frowned. So, Harry definitely had been correct, and the drawer of socks had already been a mess in the morning when he had taken out his socks, but that didn't explain how it had happened in the first place – and why Harry didn't seem bothered by it.

Going further back, to the night, he watched Harry getting off his bed, slowly and sleepily shuffling towards the shelf and pulling out the drawer. He could easily see the boy's half lidded eyes, sleepy eyes, and he knew – Harry wasn't awake. With slow and unsure movements, the child took the socks and divided the pairs, placing the sole socks back into the drawer until he had them all in – the disarray he had found them earlier.

He could feel the boy in his arms stirring, getting nervous and trying to wriggle out of his arms, and gently he tightened his grip. He knew that there had to be more to it and so he sipped through the memories again, ignoring the past few months but going back in time a few years, concentrating on socks.

He knew that Harry would not lie to him. He would have thought so a few weeks ago, before he had known the boy better, but now – he knew that Harry wouldn't lie to him. The boy did everything he could to make him proud, did everything to make things alright, to make things perfect, to do exactly like he thought he, Severus, expected him to – he knew that there had to be more to it.

And well, he had been correct.

One scene was sticking out. He had already shifted it to the side but went back to watch it, Harry in his arms meanwhile clearly scared, and again he tightened his grip, running his thumb over the boy's eyebrows in what he hoped was a calming gesture, trying to tell his son that it was alright without breaking concentration on the scene.

He could see Harry – the Harry in the scene – being ridiculed by his uncle, again, when the obese whale of a man looked down at the boy's feet. Immediately Dursley stopped his rant, got deathly silent and he could feel the fear the child in the memory radiated, taking a step back from his uncle.

"You little thief." The man then thundered, grabbing the boy and pulling him close before Harry could run away, even though he wasn't sure if the boy would really have run, even though he looked like he wished doing just that, but he knew that most likely the child would have been too scared to run from his uncle – or too reasonable, knowing that it would only worsen the situation.

"I haven't ..." The boy started with rattling teeth while the man shook him roughly.

"You have stolen Dudley's socks, you bloody thief!" Dursley screamed, starting to pull off the boy's clothes while hitting the boy wherever he could reach him. "You thought I wouldn't notice, you little freak? You thought I wouldn't see you wearing a pair of my son's socks? I've never given you a pair and you have stolen it from my son you freaky little thief!" The man screamed at the top of his lungs while pulling the last pieces of clothing from the boy's body, all the while beating and kicking at him. "I'll show you what happens with dirty little thieves, I'll teach you a lesson you'll never ever forget in your bloody worthless life! You had better prepare for a few less comfortable nights. I should have done this before! I should've never given you such a nice and comfortable cupboard or any clothes to begin with, and you'll rue the day you have stolen clothes from my son!"

"I haven't ... they're no pair ... they ..." The reminder of the sentence was drowned in piercing screams when Dursley grabbed for a cane and started beating the boy for real. He would have liked nothing more than leaving the memory at that, but he knew that first – he had to know what had happened, second – Harry was with him and even though he had not planned it, at least for this one event of abuse the child had right now the chance to deal with it, and with his help, and third – he couldn't leave a child's mind so abruptly anyway.

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"Hush, child." He whispered, while cradling the boy to his chest, one hand resting on the shaking back and one hand resting on the hot and wet face of his son while he tried to comfort the child. He had left the boy's mind slowly after he had seen enough, Dursley beating the perhaps seven year old with a cane until blood was drawn, an explanation for all the scars he had seen on the child's body that day when Weasley had attacked Harry.

"How long?" He asked, softly – and not for the first time since he had left Harry's mind. "How long has he kept you out there, child?"

Dursley had dragged the boy outside – the naked boy, mind you – locking him into a shed behind their house. "You'll learn to appreciate the clothes you're given with kissing our feet, you dirty little thief!" Dursley had said. "I'll leave you in here until you have learned to lick my ass for clothes or food, and you better don't scream for help, because no one will come and if you do, then I'll skin you alive! I'll cut you into so small pieces, not even your worthless parents would recognize you the moment you meet them!"

He was sure that Harry had believed every word Dursley had threatened the boy with, because the child was too scared, already knowing what his uncle was capable of. Of course, the child would believe those words, would not call for help, even if it was winter, snow rippling in through a hole in the roof of the shed in a peaceful but deathly pattern – deathly for a naked child that was trapped in a bloody shed, without any cover, without anything to warm him, without any meat on his bones that could keep him alive for at least a few hours. The shed may have kept the wind from the child, and the child might have crawled beneath the workbench, curled up into a protective ball to keep up any body warmth as long as possible, but that bastard of Dursley had chained the child to the middle pole of the shed, and he was sure that – again, it had been either Harry's magic that had kept him alive, or the Lord's will, but surely not Dursley's luck or mercy.

"D'nno ..." The boy sobbed out, his entire body shaking as if he were in that shed right now.

Of course, Harry wouldn't remember. Knowing what Dursley had been able to, and remembering the feeling of the memory, the emotions in them, he knew that surely it had been more than just one night. It had felt as if it had been at least one more day and night. He would cast a memory diagnostic as soon as possible, a charm that would show old injuries – a charm that would show old burns and frostbites, too.

"You will never have to fear anything like that, Harry." He whispered, not even knowing what to say.

What did you say to a child that had been mishandled like that, that had been abused so badly, that had been tortured like that? And nothing else than torture had it been, chaining a child inside a shed in the midst of winter, without clothes or any other cower, for many, many hours. Nothing else had it been than torture.

What did one say to such cruelty? There was nothing to say, because no words could undo the harm, the pain and the fear the child had felt, no words could undo what had been done to that child over the years, and he settled back, murmuring meaningless things while cradling his son to his chest and running his hand over the hot and wet face, trying to give as much comfort as he could give.

It was Diagon however who was able to finally pull the child out and back to actively moving, the animal coming over and first nudging the boy's hands with his nose and then starting to nibble on the boy's fingers when Harry didn't react.

Harry then pulled the large wolf cub close and into his arms, tightly, his thin arms barely able to hold the animal but anyway Diagon gave a choked sound away for a moment and he already thought that the beast would surely attack the child for choking him, was ready to interfere, but the desert wolf only twisted into a more comfortable position in the boy's arms, allowing the surely too tight hold, allowing the boy's fingers curling into the animal's fur, surely pulling hair, but Diagon didn't seem to mind.

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It was late in the night when Harry finally had calmed down in his arms.

Diagon was already gone, and he had thought that surely the boy had fallen asleep – he hadn't dared releasing him anyway, not now, not in that particular situation, not while a healing process had started, one of the many healing processes that surely would come with the time. He had been ready to sit there on the floor for the remainder of the night, in Harry's room.

He had sent Adrian over to Draco and Theodore, and even though the boy had obeyed, it had been clear that he had not been happy about it, the second night he had to sleep without Harry being close by – but surely he would not use legilimency upon another child being in the room to distract him. Not to mention that barely someone knew that he was a Master of legilimency, and he wanted it to stay that way for as long as possible.

"Dad?" Harry asked, softly, and he looked down at the child in his arms. He had been sure that the boy had fallen asleep, but apparently – he hadn't. "'m sorry, dad." The boy said and he sighed. Of course, the child would apologize, like he always did and again – not for the first time – he wondered how it was, that the Dursleys could so badly hurt such a polite and obedient child that had done nothing – how he himself had been able to hurt such a friendly child as Harry was.

"There is no need to apologize, child." He said. "Remember what I told you, a few weeks ago? You will not apologize for things that are not your fault – and the way the Dursleys mistreated and abused you is surely not your fault at all. Do you hear?"

Well, the only thing he got was a weak nodding but that would have to do for the moment.

"Dad?" The boy then asked again, softly and again he looked down at his son, questioningly. "What did Sirius mean when he called you a viper?"

Groaning he closed his eyes for a moment.

Of all the things his son could have asked ... of all the things ...

Even if he had asked how many people he had killed under the Dark Lord's command ...

Even if he had asked how many people he had tortured under the Dark Lord's command ...

Even if he ...

How was he to explain that to his son without startling him to death? How could he explain that to his son without scaring the boy away from him as far as possible? Without having his son grimacing at him in disgust and repulsion whenever he would look at him in future? Harry wouldn't look at him ever again, wouldn't allow him to touch him ever again, to hold him ever again. Most likely the boy would demand leaving these quarters.

It wasn't that Harry would have no place to sleep, he could always go back to his tower. And it wasn't that he would lose his son out of sight, he could keep an eye on the boy from the distance, they were at the same school after all, the boy as a student and he as a teacher. But he knew that – he would miss it, he would ... he had gotten used to the child.

It wasn't that he loved him, surely not! He was Severus Snape after all, and Severus Snape didn't love people, no one, but he had gotten used to the child, and he would miss it.
So, perhaps he just told the boy that this was none of his business? He knew that Harry wouldn't ask a second time if he told the boy off.

"'m sorry, dad." Was Harry's next comment even before he had been able to say something – and he knew, that wasn't the right way to act. He should trust in his son, it was what he expected of the child after all, to trust him.

But with something like that?

It wasn't as if his animagus form were a bat, or a rat, or maybe even a fly on the wall – no! Absolutely not!

"There is no need to be, Harry." He said. "Don't be scared, I won't harm you." And with a deep sigh he shifted the child in his arms a bit before he shifted into his animagus form, ready for everything, ready for losing the child with the action, ready to have Harry running away from him, screaming, seeing that his animagus form was a bloody snake! A large viper, even bigger than Nagini had been!

Well, the child actually gave a startled scream away the moment he held the small and thin body between the curls of his own snake body curled around the child in a way the boy hopefully would not take as a threatening or capturing hold but a protective one – green eyes going larger than he had ever seen them, and the boy looked him over with his mouth hanging open – but then, there was a smile on the pale face appearing, the boy calming down rather quickly and then ... the bloody brat actually snuggled deeper into the knot that were the windings of his body, and he himself relaxed.

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Harry's first impulse was to run, remembering the giant snake, the basilisk that had lived in the chamber of secrets, and again he remembered how angry the Potions Master had been about the headmaster not telling him about the basilisk bite.

Flashback

"You do realize that I am the resident Potions Master here at Hogwarts, do you not, Headmaster?" Severus said, deliberately using the headmaster's title.

"Of course, I do, Severus?" The bloody man said. "Why would you ask a question such as this?"

"You also do realize, that as the resident Potions Master, I am also the resident Healer here at Hogwarts, do you not, Headmaster?" He asked, not answering the bloody man's own question, and he was nearly seething – well, he actually was seething.

"I do, of course." The man answered, frowning himself. "Severus, what is this about?"

"So – perhaps you could explain to me as to why you did not see it necessary to inform me of a student at this school being biten by a Basilisk?"

"Ah, the chamber and Harry." The headmaster said, relaxing, and smiling at him. "I didn't deem it important, as Fawks has neutralized the poison and healed Harry's arm."

"He did neutralize the poison and heal Harry's arm, yes." He hissed angrily, leaning his hands upon the headmaster's desk, and for once the bloody old man backed away from him. "But he could, of course, not extract the poison that was already running through the child's veins – the poison that would react with one or another potion the child would get ... that would react with stress the child would be in ... and that would even react with one or another spell cast upon the child. You idiot old man!"

"Severus, I ..."

"You have risked a child's health and life, just because you kept your Potions Master and Healer at this school in the blue about the injuries of your students. A student of your school has been bitten by a basilisk, of all snakes, and you didn't deem it necessary to inform your Potions Master ..."

"Severus, I would ..."

"Or to pull St. Mungos into it, for Merlin's sake, if you didn't trust your Potions Master."

"Of course I trust ..."

"You have not only caused Mr. Snape's ever returning fever over the past days, risking his recovery, risking his life ..."

"Severus, please .."

"But you have also offended your Potions Master by ignoring his diploma! I am so close to ..."

"Severus ..."

"Resigning and leaving this school together with my son, Headmaster, you can't imagine how close I am – "

"Surely you ..."

"And only the knowledge of my new students being uncared for, as you are an unfit Headmaster to them, is keeping me here ... "

"Please, Severus ... listen ..."

"Good evening, Headmaster."

End Flashback

The next thought was – Severus was the basilisk and so he knew what had happened in their second year. But the thought was gone before he had even thought it, because back then he had killed the basilisk, and Severus was very much alive.

Not to mention that Severus was much, much smaller than the basilisk had been, and there were no poisoning fangs either. And where the basilisk had seemed so angry, Severus held him absolutely peacefully and calmly, deep black eyes watching him intently, nearly scared, as if he feared he would refuse him, now.

But he didn't.

He had been startled for a moment, yes, but he wasn't scared of snakes generally.

He'd been scared of the basilisk, after Tom Riddle had told it to get him, Harry, and to kill him. But generally, he was not scared of snakes, not even of the larger ones.

In aunt Petunia's garden had been a lot of snakes, small snakes only, but many of them, and he'd always liked them, talked to them, and he'd played with their kids during summer when he'd been locked outside. And he hadn't feared the bigger ones either, had even set a boa constrictor free in the zoo, once – smiling he snuggled into the folds that were surrounding him, looking for a comfortable position while he ran one hand over the dry skin of the snake, before placing his head onto the thing, closing his eyes, and falling asleep.

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To be continued

Next time in A few days more
jealousy at its finest

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