Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 21st 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

"Who did this, Severus?" Poppy asked and he needed a moment to concentrate on the woman's question.
"Creighton." He softly said, refusing to startle the boy with another growl while he ran a wet cloth over the hot and damp face. He didn't like the glassy look in Harry's eyes, nor the faraway look either, but he could only hope that for now it was shock only, and that after a night's sleep the boy would feel better.
"I will write a report and send it to child welfare, too." Poppy said while reading the result of the diagnistic spell, and he nodded.
"Very good, that way Creighton won't be able to come near children ever again." He answered, gently lifting his child out of the water and wrapping him into a large towel, again being reminded at that last day down there in the dungeons, when he had taken the child to the shower, and with a heavy sigh, he watched Harry's eyes dropping slowly but surely, the boy was about to fall asleep on him – again.
The thing was – he didn't mind.
"You best massage some ointment mixed with a calming and a nerve regeneration potion into his skin twice a day for several days, Severus." Poppy got up and packed her things away, re-arranged his things on the nightstand by Harry's bed, so that he would be able reaching them easily without releasing his son. "I think it is best if the skin has some time to absorb the potions instead of him ingesting them. That way the process will be slower, but not as strenuous on his weak body."
"Of course, Poppy." He softly said while Harry in his arms fell asleep, exhaustedly. "Thank you."

A few days more
Chapter twenty-one
Resign to surrender

"Draco?" Adrian asked and he forced himself out of his own numbness and to look down at the younger boy.

"Yes, Adrian?" He asked.

Severus had put Adrian into his and Theo's room, had told them that Harry wasn't up for company in his room, and Merlin!

They had just finished lunch, they had just arrived at their quarters, when Severus had carried Harry in, trembling and shivering, and ... and wrapped into Severus' cloak. And Severus had been as pale as had been Harry – or at least what he had seen of Harry's face.

Harry himself had been laying in Severus' arms as if dead.

"You think that was Creighton?" Adrian asked, his eyes large on him.

Adrian had climbed into his bed shortly after Severus had brought him in for the next one or two days, and he had pulled the younger boy close.

"Sure it was!" Neville answered for him.

Well, it was his and Theo's room, but right now it was rather crowded with Neville and Miles too, but he didn't mind. These two had come shortly after, Neville softly knocking on his doorframe, Miles' hand in his, and he had just waved them in.

"You think Creighton will do the same to us?" Miles softly asked.

"Nope." Theodore answered from the doorway, and he smiled, waving him inside the room, too. "Severus will have Creighton's ass for that and he will tear Creighton apart from his ass cheeks up to the cheeks in his face. When he's through with him, then that bastard won't be able to sit, move or come close to any child ever again. I bet he will end up in Azkaban for that!"

"I'm not sure about that." Blaise said. Blaise had been the first, already accompanying him into his room when he had come in here. "Azkaban, I mean, but yes, Severus will give him hell for that. I wonder if Creighton is even alive still."

"He is." Draco sighed. "I know Severus, and as bad tempered as he can be, he is too rational for an emotional move like killing Creighton. He had to tend to Harry first, and he had to regard ending up in Azkaban for killing Creighton. He knew that the bastard wasn't worth it, because we need Severus. Who would look after us if he's in Azkaban? And Harry!"

"You're right." Neville growled darkly and he chuckled. "But that doesn't make it any better, I'd love seeing Severus with Creighton for only ten minutes."

"He should get an hour with Creighton!" Adrian sobbed. "I'm scared, Draco! What if Harry dies?"

"He won't die, Adrian." Draco said, trying to soothe the younger one. "Severus will make sure. Harry will be alright."

"I hate Creighton!" Miles sobbed in Neville's arms. "And Moody, too."

"Don't worry, Miles, the moment we tell Severus about the last defense lesson, he will take care of Moody, too." He reassured the younger boy.

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Neville said and he frowned.

"Why ever not, Neville?" He asked.

"Because Severus has enough on his hands with Harry and with Creighton." The other boy softly answered. "We should try to deal with Moody ourselves and leave Severus to care for Harry."

"I don't think that's a good idea." He slowly shook his head. "Severus always told us to inform him about any abuse, and that's what Moody did."

"That might be, but Severus does really have enough on his hands now, and he does have enough worry with Harry too, and with you, Theo." Hermione commented from the doorway. "I think, Moody is a small problem compared to Harry's health right now, and we should try to solve that problem alone."

"That's the way of thinking you have learned in Gryffindor because Professor McGonagall has never cared for you like Severus does." He growled at the girl. He didn't even try to wave her in, knowing that she wouldn't be able to enter anyway. "But Severus does care, and he has to know about what happens so that he can do something."

"That might be, Theo." The girl said. "But it has also made us independent."

"And what if we expect too much of him?" Blaise asked and he frowned at him, because Blaise should know better. "He's just human, not a vampire as so many think, and he's not well at all! He has his limits, too, and – dunno, I don't want to lose him because we load too much on him." He could understand Hermione's reasoning, but not Blaise's "You know that Severus will have our hides if he learns of it later?" He asked, seriously, trying to get the others to reason. He wouldn't go against them, not before it wasn't absolutely necessary, but he tried to get them to see reason.

"He won't learn about it, not if we've dealt with the problem." Weasley said from beside Hermione and even if Weasley was their prefect – and had behaved alright so far – he still didn't like him, and so he didn't wave him into his room – it was his room, after all.

"Believe me, Weasley, he will learn of it, you don't fool around with Severus, and after that he will have our hides." He reassured the redhead. "He does take his responsibility very seriously after all."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

If he didn't have Harry still laying in his lap, sleeping at the moment, even though this sleep was anything but a restless sleep, then he would have gone back to Creighton to kill the man, slowly but surely kill him, to break each and every bone that bastard had in his sorry body before skinning him, before using any painful potion on him he knew, any painful spell, while denying him death for preferably days and weeks.

But he had Harry laying over his lap, and fortunately so, he knew, because seeing that he wasn't ready to release the child, to leave his son alone right now, he couldn't get to torture and then kill Creighton – and that meant, the sleeping child he held in his arms right now was keeping him from getting a lifelong stay in Azkaban.

Merlin, last time he had seen the boy like this, trembling and pale to death, and with a damp face that spoke of pain – despite being asleep – had been just last week, after he had picked Harry up from the Weasley twins' party. And now, only a week later, he had the same situation again – only worse and only because – not childish misjudgment, but the cruelly of an adult, again in Harry's life due to the cruelly of an adult.

Flashback

"What are you doing here, Mr. Weasley?" He asked Frederic Weasley when he met the boy roaming the dungeons, wondering where the other imbeciles might be and why they would include roaming the castle into their games – they were bound to have a simple party in the Gryffindor common room after all, not a hunting party through the castle.

Flashback within flashback

"Please, dad!" Harry asked of him, looking up with large, green, puppy eyes, and even though he had never been one to give in to such a look coming from begging children, he right now was forced to learn – it was different if said look came from his own son who had been denied everything in his life and who asked something of him for the first time. "Please! I promise we'll behave, and we'll be good, and we won't do anything, and we'll be home on time, and we ..."

"Harry ..."

"Just please, dad, please, please, I'll really do anything, I'll scrub cauldrons, and I'll ..."

"Harry!" He sternly said when the boy started to go from the 'we' to the 'I', frowning. Merlin! The boy never had asked anything of him and now he was so desperate to get his permission to visit that bloody party – how could he not allow it now?

Not to mention, he wondered why the boy asked in the first place, in the past he would never have asked, and he had made it clear that his former house was still allowed to him, that he could go to the lion's tower whenever he wanted – and now he desperately was begging for his permission to visit a party the lions were giving for the 'homecomers' as they called it.

"Of course you may – if you promise to come home the moment you are tired, feel unwell, or any of the Gryffindors starts trouble." He said, shaking his head.

End flashback within flashback

"It's Harry, sir." The boy answered and he frowned. "He isn't feeling well."

Without a word he gestured for Weasley to lead the way and then followed quickly.

The moment he entered the Gryffindor common room he didn't have to ask any more questions, because it was clear what the problem with Harry – who was laying on his side on one of the red sofas in the circular room, his fingers cramped into the fabric of the t-shirt over his stomach – seemed to be, namely stomach aches, cramps because of having indulged in too much sweets and snacks. Of course, the boy's stomach would not manage that yet. He could, just as well, have given the child a large steak with a lot of lardy French fries and chocolate cake as desert, and sighing he went over to the boy, ignoring all the Gryffindors who watched him with overly large eyes, and crouched down in front of the sofa.

Flashback within flashback

"Don't eat too much, Harry." He said when they were about to leave. He hadn't allowed Emma, Adrian and Miles, the three being too young for this party in his opinion, but he had given his permission for the remainder of the children, even though Cameron had shaken his head and told him that he wouldn't attend a 'children's party'

"Won't, I promise." Harry had said.

"And no sweets or sausages, Harry, no cake." He said, knowing that it was unfair that the boy had to watch what he was eating on a party given for him and the others.

"I won't, really." Harry promised, again.

"From the snacks you may have, but be careful to not indulge too much in them."

"I won't, I promise." The boy answered, nodding his head.

"And no alcohol, drugs or sex either." He added, lifting his eyebrow to keep himself from smirking.

"Dad!" Was Harry's shocked reply, followed by an "uncle Severus!" from Draco and a "Merlin!" from Neville.

End flashback within flashback

"Harry." He announced his approach before he placed his hand over the pale face that was twisted into a mask of pain.

"Hurts ..." Seemed all the boy was able to get out at the moment, and he sighed again.

"I can see that." He said, while taking the boy's shoulders and getting him into a sitting position – very much to the dislike of said boy who struggled to stay in his curled up position on the sofa. "Just take this potion, Harry, it will help with the cramping, and then I suggest we get you home and to bed where you will surely feel more comfortable than here on that sofa."

"Don't wanna go up, dad." The boy whined and he took a deep breath.

"Understandable." He calmly said while pulling the boy up anyway, before reaching over a vial. "But you barely would be able taking the potion in the position you have in been before. That potion, Harry, now."

For a moment he couldn't help remembering their imprisonment, couldn't help remembering the time when he'd had to somehow keep these children alive, one way or another, without knowing the outcome of all of this, despite attacks, despite accidents, despite ...

Flashback within flashback

"Does your eyes still hurt, Harry?" He asked gently and the child nodded, again.

"Headache." Came a rough whisper from the boy, and he reached the cup towards Draco who took it immediately.

"That had to be expected." He said, gently pulling the boy's other hand and the cool cloth away from his eyes. "I need to have a look at your eyes. Open them. Slowly."

Well, the boy did, a fraction, before quickly pressing them shut, again with a sharp hiss of pain, and he was not sure if it was because of the movement itself or because of the light blinding him.

"Open them, Potter! Now!" He ordered, again feeling sorry about using such a harsh tone with the child that definitely was in a mixture of shock, fear and pain, but he had to know if there was more damage than he had thought originally. He wasn't able to use a diagnostic spell, after all, as still no magic worked down here, and so he had to retreat to using simple muggle ways for examining the boy.

"Hurts." Came the next raspy comment and he gritted his teeth for a moment.

"I know, Potter." He said, forcing himself to not sound worried or upset. "Nevertheless, I need them open for a moment. Now, Potter, if you don't want to find yourself in detention for the rest of your stay here."

End flashback within flashback

"Come now." He said a moment later, pulling the boy off the sofa, but another moment later Harry was bent forwards, heavily leaning on his, Snape's, arms. Sighing and throwing dignity to the wind he pulled his son into his arms, in the midst of the Gryffindor common room filled with imbecilic lions watching his ever move and he swore that he would have Harry paying for losing his dignity while he carried him out of the room, through the corridors and down into the dungeons, their home.

End flashback

Well, of course he hadn't let Harry pay for it.

He'd had the boy taking a warm bath with a relaxing potion in it and he'd had the boy laying on his bed after that, massaging Harry's stomach and his lower body before going over to massaging the boy's limbs while he was at it.

A real problem had been the boy's visit to the bathroom. He hadn't noticed it first, until he had passed the bathroom, hearing soft crying and he had entered, not caring about the dignity of the child in there if there was need to cry. Well, he had found Harry on the loo, bent forwards and rocking back and forth with obvious stomach cramps.

It hadn't been easy to reassure that child that it was alright, that he had seen him in the bathroom before, during their imprisonment, that there was no need for being ashamed, and surely not for his body function that anyone had, but in the end he'd managed to get Harry relaxed enough so that he'd been able to take another potion for the cramps.

The bloody Gryffindors had been another thing. These imbeciles had more than once whispered behind his back, whispered while pointing at him, Snape, the evil Potions Master who had carried a child out of their common room, some of the girls even giving away a heavy sigh, smiling at him, and he had only been able to gain his reputation back by giving out detentions and taking points – Gryffindor must have lost more points than ever in the history of that house – Minerva, at least, was not happy, neither with him nor with her lions, and that was a small satisfaction – that and the little fact that they had soon learned to better forget what they had seen, because he was still the evil dungeons bastard that had them crying and cringing upon his mere appearance.

"Severus?" Albus' voice got him off his thoughts and he looked up at the headmaster.

"I take it that Creighton is arrested by the aurors?" He asked, not even caring about a greeting.

"He is." The headmaster answered, seriously. "I would have been here earlier, but Poppy has already visited, and I've had a look at Harry's files."

"Just tell me that he won't be allowed to teach any child ever again." He demanded and for once Albus nodded.

"He won't." The older wizard answered. "He has been taken into custody by the aurors and he has been brought to one of the high security Ministry cells. He will be there until his trial and after that I'm sure that he'll be shipped off to Azkaban straight. They've said that he'd been wanted already."

"You have hired a wanted person, Albus?" He couldn't help asking, incredulously. "After you have hired a werewolf last year and two idiots the years before that?"

"He hasn't been wanted as Carl Creighton but as Falk Fenrir, son of Finn Fenrir, Grayback."

"Fenrir." He gasped, looking up at the headmaster startled. "Creighton was Fenrir? Merlin! How could we have been so blind! And I thought that he had only a grudge against me because of my Death Eater status."

"Apparently not." Albus softly said, sitting into a chair beside him, his blue eyes on Harry. "It was a mistake on my part, I should have checked him for polyjuice potion, he was an unknown teacher after all. How is Harry doing?"

"What do you think how he's doing, Albus?" He asked, angrily. He should have recognized Fenrir! "You have read Harry's files!"

"Merlin, yes! I have!" Albus looked grieved. There was no twinkling in his blue eyes, and the old face seemed older than it had ever been before.

"I want my house out of classes, Albus." He said, his eyes still on Harry's slightly trembling body laying halfway in his arms, halfway over his lap.

"Severus?" The headmaster asked, incredulously, blinking at him stupidly and he would have growled at the man if he had not had a child in his arms that was – even though asleep – scared to death by his teachers. Really, his friend and mentor or not, but Albus could be such an idiot sometimes – scratch that, he was a big idiot most of the times.

"Since the day they are back to classes these children's needs are ignored by their teachers at the best, and abused at the worst, headmaster." He said, using the term headmaster to show Albus that – he meant it, this was business, and he would not back away. "Except for Minerva, Filius, Hereweald and Pomona – all heads of houses, mind you – they have been disregarded by any other teacher. They are either not allowed to drink or eat during their lessons, even though their drinks contain the prescribed potions they need, and they are not allowed rest, even though they need rest after they have nearly died only a few weeks ago. On the contrary, headmaster, they are put into corners, given detention, and they are even cursed – what do you think will happen after this now? They will be scared, all of them will be scared of any next lesson they have with any teacher because they have lost their trust in them, especially Harry, and especially the younger ones."

"I have not thought of that, Severus." Albus said, looking miserable. "Harry has always been so strong in dealing with such things."

"In dealing with such things!" He called out. "A child being strong in dealing with beatings and with being starved, with being cursed! Do you realize what you are saying?" He asked, glaring at the headmaster. "But yes, of course he has!" He then said, forcing himself to calm down, so he wouldn't startle the child. "After he has been conditioned about how to deal with cruel abuse and neglect at the hands of his relatives, of course he is able to deal with abuse at school, too. But that doesn't make it any better, and that doesn't change the fact that the child will be scared upon any next lessons."

"I assume you can help him getting over that fear." Albus calmly said, and for a moment he wasn't sure if the older wizard was serious, if he was just stupid, or cold as ice.

"I shouldn't have to." He nearly hissed. "My son should not be facing such things at your school. Creighton has gone way over the line here and we both know it."

"Of course I do know it, Severus, but I do have to warrant my decision to the board." Albus said and he huffed at the headmaster. "And we both know that one of the heads on the board is Lucius Malfoy. It will be difficult enough to begin with, dealing with them."

"I do not care about the board, Albus." He said. "My son has been cursed with an unforgivable in your school and by one of your teachers, the children in my house have been abused by some of your teachers, their needs – which are indispensable to life – are neglected nearly constantly! I will teach them myself from this very beginning on – or I will contact some parents, take my house and leave your school."

"Severus you ..."

"This is not up for discussion, Albus!"

"But you cannot ..."

"I have taught them for three weeks already." He said. "During our imprisonment I already have overtaken any other subject they've been ready to learn – what had been surprising many subjects actually. They want to learn if only they are given the chance to. I will teach them again, and that is not up for discussion, I do not care if you inform the board at all, or how you gain their approval."

"Very well, Severus." Albus sighed, and inwardly he himself breathed a sigh of relief.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

After Dumbledore had left, he had put Harry to bed, laying him on his side and then covering the boy with the salve Poppy had suggested, wincing himself upon the still slightly trembling limbs, but due to the pain reliever and other potions in the boy's system Harry had, at least, not woken.

On a strong and healthy fourteen year old boy the first dose of the nerve regeneration potion together with the general healing potion he had given Harry earlier would have done most of the healing already. There would have been a few sore muscles left, but most of the tremors would have been gone by now. But Harry was no healthy and strong fourteen year old child – he was still thin and bony, weak, easily tiring out, and his body was anything than healthy in the first place – of course the healing potion and the salve didn't have the same effect.

The bruises from when the child had fallen to the floor, did look much better than they had after he had brought the child home, but some of them still were dark blue, and the weak limbs were still shaking, the boy's hands too, and he knew from his own experiences with the cruciatus, that Harry's hands would be half useless for some days more.

After applying the second layer of the ointment, he cast a covering spell over Harry's small form, not ready to wrap the boy's upper body into blanket. Not only would it have limited Harry's range of movement, but also would it most likely have scared the boy, too, and he was not ready for that.

He had made sure that he was informed upon Harry waking, that Zilly was close by – namely sitting beside Harry's bed – and then he had taken a look at the other children – who had been worried and scared, but fine. He had told them to leave Harry alone, never mind their worries, and to not leave their quarters, had told them that he would be back home as soon as possible.

Of course, Draco and Theodore had asked what he was about to do, their drastically paling faces worried, and he had known that they had known his destiny – and had been worried that he could overstep a line.

"How can I help you, Professor Snape?" Will asked, sounding just as worried as had Draco and Theodore and he knew that – Will, too, knew about his plans – and didn't like it.

"You know very well what reason for I am here, Will, do not play dump on me." He growled.

"Are you sure that you will go that step, Professor?" Will asked, and he narrowed his eyes at the boy.

Will Allison had been one of his more worrying problem children during his time in Slytherin, and he was glad that the boy had found a place where he could do what had been denied to him – namely caring about children.

"If you are trying to change my mind, then you can, just as well, sign these papers and let me down into the dungeons." He growled, leaning with his hands onto the tabletop and leaning closer, glad that Will was not intimidated by him, the boy had grown – good. "It is my lawful right to being here under several conditions, and I happen to fulfil all of them. I am here in time, I am the child's father, the boy is not of age yet, Fenrir has used a spell, one of the unforgivables, actually, I have not harmed Fenrir yet – and I, hereby, swear that I won't kill him."

Well, that was the wizarding law.

A father had the right to punish any abuser of his child if blood had been drawn by the abuser, if a potion had been used or if a spell had been used to harm the child. He had the right doing so while the father could be considered as 'acting in an affect' – within six hours after the abuse or learning of it. In other words – immediately upon the abuse or learning of it, or later (within the time mentioned before) as long as he had not harmed the abuser in any way possible before. And last but not least – as long as the child was not of age and as long as he, the father, swore that he would not kill the abuser – what he had just done.

Then he had an hour with the culprit.

"I'm not trying to change your mind, Professor, if anyone has a right to do that, then it is you." Will said. "I just fear that you might end up in Azkaban, and that would surely be a death warrant for one or another child at Hogwarts."

"You should know that I am a collected and rational man, Will, not an emotional fool of a Gryffindor." He growled at his former student.

"I do." The boy said. "But I also know that you can have a temper – and I know how protective you are when it comes to children."

"I do not have a temper, Mr. Allison!" He hissed angrily. "And now you sign these papers, or I will address Miss Harvest with the issue, I am sure that she will let me through right away."

"I have already signed them, Professor, and they are already down in the holding area." The boy smirked at him, and he huffed, looking at the brat angrily before turning to leave the office.

"Professor." Will called after him and he stopped, without looking back even. He just wanted to be down there. "Remember that you are not to use any spell that could be considered dark magic, and remember that you have an hour exactly."

He gave a curt nod away, still without turning, before he went on and crossed the corridor, entering the hall that would lead to the dungeons of the ministry building, and to the holding cells.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Finally know who I am, don't you, Snape?" Fenrir asked and he growled at the man.

He didn't even feel the need to answer the son of the werewolf.

Falk Fenrir, son of Finn Fenrir, the Grayback, the werewolf – the only son of a werewolf in the history of Hogwarts, like there had only been one werewolf in the history of Hogwarts either. And both had been in the same year, in different houses, but in the same year and while Remus Lupin, the werewolf, had been harmless – Finn Fenrir, the son of another werewolf, had not been, even though he had not been an actual werewolf himself.

Waving his wand he had the bastard turned and leaning with his hands against the wall, with his hands glued against the wall and another moment later he had the man's back bare.

"And here we are for revenge, again." The man laughed at him.

Yes, he was.

Like Fenrir had been there for revenge, too.

Only that the werewolf's son had chosen the wrong person for revenge.

It had all started during their first year at Hogwarts.

Where Remus Lupin had tried to keep his lycanthropy a secret for as long as possible, Fenrir had not done the same about his father's status, but had boasted about having a werewolf as his father – to inflict fear amongst his fellow students, and successfully so.

He didn't bother with a muggle move like a whip or a cane – he just waved his wand, because that way he could make sure that each stroke he inflicted upon Fenrir, now, would reappear exactly twenty-four hours later again – for the remainder of the man's life. And he would make sure that he handed out as much strokes as possible.

"Nice, Snape." Fenrir gasped after going to his knees upon the pain his first lash had caused.

And it wasn't the first time that Fenrir did.

All of the students had been scared of the werewolf's son, because he had always threatened them with his father, had threatened that he would send his father to their parents – the problem was, he had not cared about his father being alive or not, and so he hadn't been scared of Fenrir's threat either. And he had fought many of a fight with the werewolf's son.

When they'd been in their sixth year, just the year after Black and Potter had played the prank on him with Lupin, a prank that nearly had cost his life, Fenrir had attacked a student, a first year Slytherin. He had used polyjuice potion to transform into his father and while a werewolf would normally transform back into a human being after the full moon – Fenrir Grayback had never done so, had always forced his body to keep some of his werewolf traits, like – just for example – some of his wolf claws, and some of his fangs.

So Fenrir junior had transformed into his father's form of being 'human' and had then attacked the first year student after the younger child had not cared about his father being alive or dead either, had therefore not answered to the older student's orders either.

"You've lost your bite, Snape." The man groaned out between clenched teeth.

He knew that he hadn't, but if Fenrir tried to make him angry, so that he would start talking instead of inflicting pain – or if he tried to make him angry so that he would use a dark spell, then he was wrong – then it was the same he had tried back then, nearly twenty years in the past.

He had waited for a day or two, had waited if Dumbledore would do something, or if maybe Slughorn would do something – but back then, already, he had known that Slughorn wouldn't do anything, Slughorn had never done anything, because Slughorn was a coward bastard that gathered the strong, the rich and the influential around himself to do his work.

When neither of the two had done anything, he had taken matters into his own hands and he had once and for all ended the idiot's behaviour. He had given him a piece of his own medicine, and Fenrir had ended up with a few nice scars over his own chest. After that the son of the werewolf had stopped his arrogant and threatening activities.

Surely not because he, Snape, had handed out a few lashes with a well-placed spell to slice Fenrir's chest, no – it had rather been because after the first year had ended up in the hospital wing with his sliced chest, with his mutilated chest, where he had died a day later. Of course, Fenrir Senior had gotten wind of his son's actions after that – he didn't know what exactly the werewolf had done, but he knew that he had taken his son home for the weekend where he had punished him, and he knew that Fenrir junior had never ever again threatened any student – at least until he had left Hogwarts. He had lost sight of the other after that.

"Still a bastard ..." Fenrir choked out between gasps and trying to somehow catch his breath.

Well, each stroke he gave left a scar without a drop of blood being shed, and he knew that all the scars wold be healed within the hour, not even leaving thin lines on the skin – until 24 hours were up. The spell he was using healing him much quicker than he would heal if he had used an actual whip – why it was not considered a dark spell to begin with, even though the whiping would be repeated every 24 hours – and so he had no problem with beating the man for an hour without allowing any distraction, handing out many more strokes, he had an hour after all.

He wasn't really impressed by the scream coming from Fenrir, but that didn't matter, because he knew that Fenrir hadn't been impressed by Harry's screams either.

He couldn't really understand why the idiot had chosen Harry for his games anyway, he should have known that he would have him paying for it – so why had he? What had Fenrir's reasoning been? Fenrir was an idiot, but he wasn't stupid, and of course he had known that Harry was Severus' son, and so he must, of course, have also known that – he would have revenge for his actions.

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In the end Fenrir had hung on the wall, his hands glued to the rough and cold stone while his knees had been on the floor, screaming with each blow his wand caused, and he had been satisfied with the knowledge that the bastard would suffer the same every twenty-four hours for the remainder of his life – that could last for many years yet.

"Two things are unlimited." Was all he had said to the man after his hour had been over. "The wisdom of the Lord, and the stupidity of men – because you should have known that you wouldn't get away with it, Fenrir."

"Not really." Fenrir had gasped, laying on the stone floor in a huddle. "I told you, you have lost your bite. Some years ago you would have drawn blood with a dark spell, and you would have ended up in Azkaban, a death sentence for you and your children! I have counted on that."

He had not even given an answer, but he had turned and he had gone home after he had made sure that not only the guard, but Will, too, saw the werewolf's son alive, just in case – and after he had appointed Will as his lawfully child welfare representative for not only all of Harry's trials – and he knew that now, after the issue with Fenrir would end up at court, it would be time for the Dursleys being called to court, too, but as his lawfully child welfare representative for all of the children in his new house. He had been very glad that Will had agreed immediately, and he had also been glad about Zilly's reassurance that Harry had not woken while he'd been gone.

Elsa Harvest would still take care of them all – and be present at court – like she'd done with all the abused children in his house, but Will would take over the law in all of this.

Of course, he hadn't though that the boy would wake, not after that strenuous day, after being exhausted beyond his limits, and surely not after a double dose of his strongest pain reliever, not to mention the healing potions and the calming draught Harry had in his system despite his weak body that shouldn't have to deal with so many potions in the first place. Of course, the child would be out of it for most of the day. But well, if you speak of the devil – small whimper got him out of his thoughts, and he paid attention to said child in the bed beside the armchair he was sitting in, again, since he had come back home from the ministry.

"Easy, child." He softly said, gently, reaching out to run his hand through Harry's hair. A moment later he leaned over to place his hand on the boy's neck instead, the only spot he right now could be sure wouldn't hurt upon touch and where he could keep the boy from turning. "Stay on your side, that will be the most comfortable position right now ... no, don't turn ... you'll hurt yourself ... Harry! ... don't ... stop struggling and ... just calm down, child ... you're at home, you're safe ... that's it, child ... very good ... that's it, just stay laying on your side ..."

"'m sorry, sir." Was – how could it be otherwise – again the only thing the boy murmured after he had calmed down enough to recognize his surroundings and the person who was with him.

"There is no reason to be, Harry." He gently said, his hand still on his son's neck while his thumb ran over the soft skin traitorously. "There is no reason to be ashamed either, Harry." He then added, shifting a bit so that he could look into the pale face more easily, noticing the red spots on the nearly white face. "It is Creighton who should be ashamed, Harry. And his name isn't even Creighton. His name was Falk Fenrir, son of Finn Fenrir, Grayback, the son of a werewolf in the Death Eater's ranks. He has been arrested and he won't teach any child ever again, he won't come close to any child ever again. He will end up in Azkaban and you won't see him ever again, Harry."

"'m sorry."

Of course the child would say that.

"There's still no need to be, child." He said, softly, trying to not sounding annoyed. It wasn't Harry's fault after all. "It is late evening, Harry." He then started to explain, just to give the boy a sense of where he was, what time it was meanwhile, what had happened in the world around him, to keep him from falling into an abyss of loneliness. He would make sure that the boy wouldn't feel alone, that he wouldn't drown in desperation and the carelessness of the people around him. "The others have had their dinner already, but not in the great hall tonight. We've had dinner in the kitchen here, and we've had invited Victor. He would have been alone at our table otherwise. We just didn't want you being alone either."

"'m sorry." Came the same remark, again, and he had known that it would come.

"There is no need to be." He himself repeated, wondering who of the two would go insane upon the repeated remarks first, Harry or him – but most likely it would be him. "We have decided it as a group, and we felt better here than in the great hall anyway. Are you hungry, child? You need to eat something, Harry." He added upon the slight headshake he received. "Your body will need any strength it can get, your body needs food and fluids. Very good, child." He said when the boy gave in with a tired sigh, remembering how important it was for the boy to being called 'child', remembering how good the child felt upon being addressed as such, upon being allowed to be a child.

"Then let me help you, Harry." He softly said, reaching over with his other hand, slowly, to take the boy's upper arm, and gently, he pulled him up and into a sitting position.

"That's alright?" He asked, his eyes narrowed at the pale face – and the boy nodded. Of course, he would nod, even if it weren't ok he would nod, and so he only could guess. Well, it would do for now, even though he knew that it wouldn't do for long. Harry would feel a little bit better by tomorrow, he knew, but he would definitely need the night to recover more, and it would be several days, until his son were back to the condition of yesterday.

He waited until the teen was sitting on his bed steadily before reaching over and taking the glass with orange juice from the nightstand, handing it over to the boy who took it with trembling hands. Trembling hands that shook so badly, he had to steady them, or Harry would have spilled the juice all over his bed.

And of course ...

"Sorry, sir ..." The boy said while for the first time looking up at him – with large and fear filled eyes.

"There is no need to be, Harry." He said, forcing himself to not choke upon the scared green eyes watching him, as if he feared a beating because his hands shook, because he, Snape, his father, had to steady them. "You are seriously injured, Harry, you have been seriously abused by a teacher of this school, and you have every right to being scared and in need of support. You have every right to show any physical reactions like trembling hands or the need to lean on me – that is what I am here for, child, it is not only my job to support you in need, but my wish, too, you are my son after all. And now stop worrying and drink. It is my place to worry, not yours."

He was sure that Harry would have whispered another "sorry" if he hadn't led the boy's hands with the glass to his mouth, gently dipping the bottom of the glass a bit while at the same time placing one hand behind the boy's head to steady him, to give him a sense of safety while drinking.

Well, it came later, the "sorry" after the coughing fit, of course.

Of course, the child would choke on the juice upon being scared and unsure, upon being weak, and surely in pain, too, meanwhile, and quickly he placed the glass at the nightstand. Surely he couldn't pat the boy's back, but he at least could prop him up and steady him.

"Easy, child." He softly said while he pulled his son closer until he leaned with his chest against him and carefully he ran his free hand over the boy's neck and shoulder, trying to give at least comfort until the fit was over. "Try to breathe slower ... slower, Harry ... that's it ... well done, son ..."

"'m sorry ..." The boy murmured, nearly sobbed, and yes, of course there had been another apology.

And he knew that he wouldn't hear anything else from the child for some time, for a time much too long for his liking, but he would deal with it, he would deal with it like he had dealt with anything else, and he would get Harry back to where they had been before this needless and cruel abuse. He knew that it would take him a long time, but he would manage.

"It vos a long day?" Victor had asked during dinner when he had run his hand over his face for a moment, and he had leaned back in his chair, nodding at the boy.

"Yes." He had answered. "And they seem to get longer."

But he would manage.

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To be continued

Next time in A few days more
and here the inevitable comes

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 54
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 15
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01