Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 19th 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

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.

A few days more
Chapter nineteen
Jealousy – at its finest

Watching Harry leaving his room and shuffling over to him, sitting at the sofa beside him and pulling up his feet, leaning against his shoulder, the Potions Master remembered the last night – and what he had done.

Merlin – he had shown the boy – he had actually shown the boy his animagus form!

Laying his arm around his son's shoulders, carefully, he pulled the boy close and looked down into the pale face. Well, at least the boy had slept for about an hour, considering the sleepy and crinkled face that rather looked like a pillow than like a face right now, he had feared that the child wouldn't sleep after charms, ancient runes and lunch today.

Sighing he leaned back against the backrest of the sofa, pulling the boy with him and waiting – they had enough time until the other children were all awake from their – afternoon nap – and ready for their meeting.

Well, admittedly, Harry had not been scared last night, had not fled him. That bloody boy had – snuggled into his – embrace, had run his fingers over the scales which covered his snakeskin, until he had fallen asleep. He had been lucky, because it could have been really bad, the child could have been scared to death and running as far as possible, screaming, keeping him as far away as possible.

Just imagine – you open your eyes, and you are cradled by a giant snake! What a horrifying thought!

What had he been thinking last night? He was lucky that his son had reacted so well to it, but it had been a stupid thing to do in the first place and he shouldn't have done it.

"Dad?" Said boy asked and he stopped the hand that was running through the black hair of the child, looking down questioningly. "Don't you think that Mrs. Weasley should have allowed Ginny to attend this house here?"

"I am sure that, whatever reason Mrs. Weasley had to keep her daughter in Gryffindor, it had been a good reason, and it is not our place to question her decisions." He answered, frowning down at the child.

"I know." Harry answered and the child sounded serious. "But you know, she made a lot of wind about Ron being prefect. Ron told me once that, with older brothers they have set a standard and you better didn't do worse than they had done or your family would be disappointed in you, but if you lived up to their standard, then it wouldn't be something to make a fuss over either, because they had done it before you. And now Ron is prefect, after Percy was prefect and Charley, too, as was Bill, but Mrs. Weasley did make a lot of fuss about it. Ginny came back to Hogwarts, to learn, so that she wouldn't disappoint her mother, but for Mrs. Weasley it seemed to be the most normal thing in the world. I think she cares more about Ron than about Ginny, but Ginny is ill, too."

"I do see your point." He said, shifting the boy in his arms so that Harry leaned with his back against his chest, and he started massaging the boy's lower arms. "But it is not our place to judge it as long as Ginevra doesn't take harm. I will have an eye on her anyway. I am the resident Potions Master after all, and so I do have access to the infirmary. You should be happy for your friend, that his mother had been so proud of him despite his worries."

Flashback

"Oh, my poor baby! My poor but strong Ronikins!" Molly screeched upon storming into the great hall, and he grimaced. "I am so proud of you, Ronikins, so proud! What you've been through, and then you have become a prefect! Bill would be so proud of you, too, as would be Charley! And your father! He told me to make sure you're alright, Ronikins! Had I known how proud you'd make me one day ..."

Well, they didn't learn what Molly would have done had she known, because the woman was sobbing too hard to go on in her outburst.

Getting off his chair he met the woman before she could reach her son and smother him to death, taking her shoulders and slowing her march down. The last thing he needed right now was the bloody woman breaking down upon the boy who had already buried his bright red face between his arms he had laying on the table – while Ginevra was silently slipping away to the Gryffindor table, unnoticed, and he frowned.

Molly seemed to have forgotten about her daughter – again – upon seeing her youngest son.

"I do understand your feelings, Molly, but please do try to get a grip at yourself, you are making a scene." He whispered while allowing the woman closer to their table.
Well, the woman actually got calmer, until her eyes fell on Harry.

"Oh, and Harry, my dear boy!" The woman started sobbing anew. "I am so ..."

"Molly, please." He said, more firm this time. "You are scaring the children."

"But my Ronikins." Molly sobbed. "And poor Harry ..."

"Molly!" He softly hissed upon seeing Harry's distress, the boy already looking for an escape route. "Get a grip on yourself, woman, before you cause more harm than good!"

Merlin, the woman was worse than was Maria from St. Mungos!

End flashback

Well, his irritable hiss had caused Molly to look at him angrily, but at least she had stopped her utterly impossible behaviour.

"I am, in a way." Harry answered, and he looked down at the child, frowning. "But not as much as I would have been in the past."

There was a pause, but he didn't dare giving away a comment, knowing that there was something the child wanted to say while, at the same time, he seemed unsure about how to say it, or where to begin.

"Look, dad, I know that I always got more attention than Ron." The boy started and his frown deepened. The way the child had started what was on his mind, it sounded as if he was trying to defend himself. "I never liked it, I hated it, but I couldn't change it, just because I'm – the boy who lived. But I always hated it, and Ron knew that I hated it. I always knew that Ron was jealous, kind of, because of it, because he wanted attention, too, and I always could understand that, with so many older brothers – but down there, in the potions classroom, while we've been locked up, you know, I've seen a new side on Ron, and I don't know how to handle that. I've never said something, but ..."

"But what, child?" He asked when it was clear that Harry wouldn't continue. "You may speak your mind instead of bottling up what you feel or think."

"Well ... don' wanna sound ungrateful ..." The boy mumbled and he sighed.

"And I will not take it as ungratefulness." He reassured, turning the boy who still was leaning against him, so that he could look at him. "It has nothing to do with ungratefulness, to say what you feel – not to mention that, during the past few weeks I have learned that there is not one small bone of ungratefulness in you, child. You are respectful, grateful and obedient. So, you may speak your mind, child."

The boy looked at him for a moment, before he averted his eyes and he allowed it.

"You know, I won't play Quidditch ever again." The boy started and he frowned again. "I know it, I'm not stupid, dad. I guess, I can be lucky that I'm alive still, and I really do thank you for everything you have done to keep me alive. It's not meant to complain, that's just how it is. I can barely walk up a flight of stairs without having to catch my breath, I have trouble balancing on the high beam, and I can barely see enough to find the snitch if it is farther away than a broom's length. It hasn't been like that before, and I know that it's not just because of our twenty-one days, but because of the potion Ron got to explode in my cauldron. It had hurt my lungs and my eyes and somehow my balancing system or what it would be called."

"Your sense of balance, yes. Well, I won't lie to you, Harry, and it might indeed be that you won't be able to play on a team ever again." He said, after taking a deep breath. "Your physical condition is as bad as it could possibly be in your situation, and even though you will get better with time given, you – most likely – won't be back to complete health ever. You have been so close to death, Harry, I still don't know how you could have survived. You have even stopped breathing at several points during that last night, your heart had stopped beating. You ... I have prepared for you dying during that night, Harry, and I don't know how I have been able to fall asleep even, with you laying in my arms, barely alive, dying ... I don't know it."

There was a pause for some time, both wizards, father and son, sitting on the sofa, the boy resting against the man's chest, calmly, despite what the Potions Master had just told the child and it was a sign of how much the teen already had been through, if he wasn't scared about it, or at least upset, that he was used to talking of death and dying.

"But you will always be able playing for fun." Severus said after a few minutes of silence. "You will get better, and even though you won't play on a team, you will always be able to play for fun. We will deal with your eyes and your lungs when you are not so damn weak anymore, but we cannot do much now. Right now, it is important that I keep you the way you are – namely alive. However – I take it, you do blame Ronald for your eyes and lungs being so bad." He stated, he didn't have to ask.

"Partly." The boy said, thoughtfully. "I don't think I should, he didn't do it to harm me, but – you see, I didn't think that he really would attack me, that he would be violent towards me, but he has. And now ... I don't know how to trust him anymore ... I ..."

"I think I know what you mean, Harry, but I also think that he has indeed done it intentionally." He softly said when the boy stopped again. "He has grabbed you, and he has thrown you at the wall, ready to hit his fist into your face. He has thrown a beetle's eye into your cauldron – most likely knowing that it would cause some sort of an explosion, or he wouldn't have done it in the first place. So, Ronald is responsible for your injuries, and for your health being so bad still. I do not wish to set you up against him, do not misunderstand my intentions – he has apologized, and he is indeed sorry for what he'd done, I just want you to see this realistic. You do have the right to feel anger, because if you don't allow that feeling, it will be bottled up until the bottle shatters and then the shards might cause harm, more harm than your anger might cause right now. But if you allow your anger, then you will be able to deal with it, you will be able to control it, and then perhaps, you will be able to forgive your friend one day. It might take some time, but you will heal, alright?"

"'k, dad." The boy said, but he didn't really sound convinced, and the Potions Master sighed.

"Come here, child." He said, pulling the boy closer and running his hand through the boy's hair, through the strands of shoulder long black hair, narrowing his eyes.

He knew that Harry's hair had always been – stubborn – for the lack of a better word, but – and he didn't notice it for the first time – he knew that it wasn't meant to grow so quickly. He recognized his own hair, hair that was like his own had been when he had been that age, hair that grew long, never mind what he tried – and suddenly he understood that Harry had never been able to tame his own unruly hair, not even now while it was longer.

"I suggest you wear your hair in a braid, Harry." He said, smiling like an idiot. "I fear it will be not only unruly now, but long and unruly. You start showing signs of being my son."

A small but happy smile coming from the child was the answer and he placed his palm at the boy's cheek, wondering how the child could smile at something like that, proof of being the snarky Potions Master's son, while he ran his thumb over his son's cheekbone.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Dad?" The boy asked, like so often – carefully, as if he was scared of asking questions, and he knew why the boy was scared, fearing punishment for asking questions, while at the same time – he was curious, he was eager for knowledge, wishing to understand his magic, his surroundings and what happened, wishing to understand the family bond and his position.

"Yes?" He asked back.

The meeting had gone well.

They hadn't been discussing anything today, only playing a game, but that had been alright. Those meetings, they were for discussions, they were for playing, they were for just sitting together, it didn't matter what they did during those times, as long as they did it together to keep their sense of togetherness, of being a group, of being a house, united.

"Just wanted to say – well, thanks, for showing me." The boy softly said, as softly as always.

He had watched Harry during the afternoon, and he had noticed that the child had been very quiet, tiredly partaking in the game without saying much, smiling happily. It had been clear – the boy had been very content with sitting amongst them, with watching them and with listening to them, he didn't have to partake in their conversations for being happy.

"My animagus form?" He asked, frowning.

The boy hadn't said anything about it since last night, had neither showed any sign of remembering nor of being disgusted, nor – anything, as if he hadn't ever shown him that he was a snake – a giant snake, of all animals. Well, one couldn't simply become the animal they wanted – it was the animal choosing the wizard, similar as it was with a wand.

"Yes." Harry said. "You didn't have to, but you showed me."

"I feared you would be – disgusted." He said, remembering the fear he had felt, being so sure that the boy would run upon being between the curls of a snake. Most children would have, even most of the fourteen year old teenage boys would have. It wasn't that the animagus animals chose wizards that were – disgusted by them. They of course chose wizards who felt comfortable with them, like the cat that was Minerva's animagus form, the idiot woman always had loved cats. Black had always loved dogs, the reason his animagus form was a mutt, a flea-bag, whatever – and he, well, he was a friend of snakes.

"Why?" The boy asked, looking at him with large eyes, as if he couldn't understand him.

"Most people are rather – disgusted, by snakes, scared and sometimes even terrified – even some of the members of the Slytherin house." He said, smiling, remembering one or another of his former children. "Ophidiophobia is one of the most specific phobias after all. And it isn't as if I transformed into a – cute little snakeling." He then added, causing his son to chuckle for a moment.

"I know." Harry said. "Dudley always played the strongman's act, but if seeing a spider, a worm or a bug, he ran screaming from the room and didn't come back. Aunt Petunia, too, was scared of snakes, what kept her out of the garden because they lived there. Unfortunately, uncle Vernon did not fear them." The child softly added, and he lifted his son's head so the boy had to look at him.

"I already told you to never avert your eyes." He gently said. "It is not your fault, Harry – and ... I am glad that you do not fear snakes – which I should have known, seeing that you have spoken to a snake in your second year. However, you just better don't tell people, seeing that I happen to be an – unregistered animagus, coincidentally only, of course."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Shall we go to the great hall for dinner?" He asked a few minutes later, after the other children had come out of their rooms one by one, looking just as pillow-like as Harry had looked half an hour ago.

"It's bean stew." Draco said, wrinkling his face, and he could see Harry, too, grimacing for a moment.

"It's Professor Sprout's birthday, and she's always ordering bean stew for dinner then." Hermione sighed while he led them out of their dungeons and up the stairs towards the entrance hall that would lead to the great hall.

"You have to poop because of them." Emma wrinkled her nose, causing some of the children to laugh and he sighed.

"It won't be beans for you anyway." He said, leading them into the great hall. "Most of you might feel better, but none of you would be able to handle beans yet. I have ordered bread and mild cheese, tomatoes and cucumber for tonight's dinner, together with butter and some herbs."

"Great!" Theo smiled, followed by most others, only Emma seemed not being happy about it, whispering a soft "that's rotten milk".

"I have ordered herbal butter for you, Emma, don't worry." He said.

He wouldn't do so generally, allowing the children to have different food than the rest of the student body – but he knew that they were not to miss meals, and bean stew they wouldn't be able to handle anyway.

So why should Emma have to partake in a meal she didn't like while he had ordered something the others liked? It wouldn't be fair.

Not to mention that – at the present time he had them rather eating something different than eating nothing at all.

"That's roasted bread." Neville called out the moment they reached their table and the food already appeared.

"Great!" Theo smiled, like the others, and he could easily notice the difference to last year here at Hogwarts – or to the remainder of the students at the great hall. They were happy about such a thing like roasted bread, they were ready to eat things they didn't like to begin with, and they didn't complain because of not enough food being on the table.

Most of the others did complain about that, about not enough food on the table – even though in the end there was food left anyway, many of them took too much food on their plates and then didn't even manage to eat all of that.

He had long ago taught his students that they were not to load food on their plates more than they could eat while at the same time he had taught them that they were allowed to take a second. Of course, they, too, complained about food they didn't like, but they knew that they had to eat it anyway as long as their head of house deemed them well enough for doing so.

"Harry?" He asked when the boy sat just there, not taking anything, and he looked down at the child with a frown. He had gotten used to the boy's eating disorder, the child not daring to take much, and in the beginning Harry had not dared taking anything at all, but it had gotten better – until now, it seemed.

"Would you like herbal butter for your bread, too, like Emma, rather than cheese?" He asked, trying to find out where the problem was – well, he only gained a headshake as an answer to his question.

"Do you like cheese at all?" He asked, getting the boy to shrugging his shoulder and he thought he knew the problem. "You've never had cheese before." He sighed. He didn't even have to ask the question, he could make it a statement. "Well, I suggest you simply try it, without listening to any prejudices. There are too many things in our world we would be able to enjoy if we did not rob ourselves of these experiences to begin with. Only mild cheese is served today so you will be able enjoying dinner."

Well, the boy looked very unsure, scared even, and he just cut a slice from the cheese truckle and put it on the boy's plate. Most of the others had already started eating, taking tomatoes and roasted bread, some grapes and apple slices, and taking either from the cheese slices or a small block of cheese.

Well, Harry, too, started eating, cutting a mall piece from the cheese and then putting it into his mouth – without smelling it first – and, once again, it was clear – Harry knew exactly what cheese was, and therefore how it would smell, seeing that he'd had to prepare the Dursleys' meals for years, he had just never been allowed eating it himself.

Chewing slowly – very slowly – the boy looked thoughtful, and he wondered what was going through his son's mind.

There was hesitation before the boy cut another small piece from the cheese, putting it into his mouth just as experimentally as the piece before, as if he were unsure if he liked it or not.

He had started on his dinner himself meanwhile, trying to not watch the boy – and his amazed face – openly, but he knew that he would have to do something about the Dursleys, soon, or he would explode with the anger he felt over and over again when watching his son, knowing that they were still not punished yet.

They would be, there was no mistake, he would make sure of that, but they weren't yet, and that knowledge didn't help his anger at them to begin with.

Well, as it seemed, Harry did like the cheese, because even though he still ate carefully, only small pieces he put into his mouth – from the way he was chewing it, he was unsure still, but seemed to like it. It was not a disgusted chewing but an enjoying one.

"You know, that reminds me at home." Gregory smiled at him, and he lowered his head to one side, questioningly. "We're often having cheese for dinner at home, with roasted bread and with tomato salad and loads of onions." Vincent explained, smiling, too.

"Onions surely is nothing your stomach would enjoy right now, and surely not salad made with vinegar and oil." He smirked at the boy. "I am however sure that until your Christmas holidays you will be able to enjoy it. As will you, Draco."

"You know, that will be real fun." Gregory smiled happily. "Christmas at the Crabbe and Goyle house. You'll have a Christmas tree even."

"Yes, mum told me." Draco said, thoughtfully. "Dad never allowed a Christmas tree, he said it was a muggle thing, and he wouldn't allow it in his house as long as he lived. Strange, he's alive still, but mum and me will have one at your house now."

"I'm glad that you're coming." Vincent simply said. "Dad's happy with your mum in the house, too."

"You know, that's really strange, my mum in a house with your dads." Draco said, nearly laughing.

"Wait – your fathers are – gay?" Dean asked, looking from Gregory to Vincent and back. "You two are living together?"

"Not really – and yes." Gregory answered and he could hear a hint of carefulness in the boy's voice. "Our fathers are not gay, they're just living together and sharing a house, since our mothers are both dead, and since we're so close we've become one family, but there's nothing between them. But yes, Vince and I are growing up like brothers, after our mothers have been killed."

"'m sorry." Came Harry's voice, sounding sad. "But I think it's pretty cool that your fathers have been able to come live together then. That way they're giving you a family, even though without a mother and you're really like brothers that way."

"Hmm." Vincent made. "But you know, living in a family with two fathers – there are some, especially Gryffindors, who judge us on that."

"We're no Gryffindors anymore, remember?" Dean shrugged his shoulders and the Potions Master relaxed. "We're all Wolvenhowls now. And honestly, now I know why you two are always together, you always reminded me at the Weasley twins even though you don't look alike."

"I think that's pretty cool." Theodore said, softly. "I'd like to have a brother, too, one that was at school with me."

"Actually, you will have one." Severus said, casting a quick glance at Harry, asking for permission. "Harry and I have decided that you will be better off at Prince Manor instead of your home, Theodore, and I have already asked for custody over you."

"You have ... but surely my father would never ..."

"Your father has no say in that, Theodore, seeing that he has been made responsible for the attack at Hogwarts, together with Lucius Malfoy, using dark magic and therefore landed himself in Azkaban." He calmly said, leaning back in his chair.

"I know." Theodore softly said, averting his eyes. "But he still has friends and ... dunno, he'd never allow that."

"If you end up in Azkaban because you are accused of using dark magic – even the Death Eaters remain far away from you." He said with a sigh. "They will abandon you quicker than you can say the word Azkaban, because they don't want the ministry to investigate in their own cases too deeply. They are easily abandoning you to safe their own skin, Theodore, and so your father has absolutely no influence on anything."

A moment later he had a small hand beneath the table slipping into his, squeezing tightly and he squeezed the small hand in return for a moment, knowing that the boy didn't want to cause an emotional scene openly in the great hall but needed reassurance and comfort anyway right now.

No one said anything else on the subject, because there wasn't anything else to say at all, and so they finished their dinner in relative silence.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was when they left the great hall, that he – again – learned about how quickly a house could abandon its members, too – or former members – just like the Death Eaters abandoned their fellow men.

He had heard some of the Gryffindors complaining about them having to eat bean stew while the Wolvenhowls were allowed other food – despite the fact that two thirds of the Gryffindors were missing anyway and he was sure that they were down in the kitchens to get something different to eat, like pumpkin cake, pudding and early Halloween cookies.

It was however as if the children's jealousy and anger was stoked by the minute, and he shook his head about the loyally of them. Half of Wolvenhowl was former Gryffindor after all, just like the other half was former Slytherin – but that didn't mean that they had become enemies from just one day to the other just because they had changed houses. Didn't friendship mean anything anymore?

Apparently not, he huffed, inwardly, apparently the children were forgotten as quickly by their former housemates the moment they changed houses as were Death Eaters by their former colleagues the moment they got imprisoned.

He – partly – could understand the second, them fearing that the ministry could investigate in their households, and then could imprison them, too, them fearing for their families. He however couldn't understand the Gryffindors. What did they fear if they were befriended with members of another house? Seeing that it wasn't even Slytherin?

"What's that, Potty, is that a pink and a grey line running through your shoes?" McLaggen sneered down at the boy, and he growled down at that boy. McLaggen however seemed unimpressed, smirking up at him with a "how girlish" on his lips – while at the same time he could see the envy in the boy's eyes and he smirked himself.

"How fortunate then, that you'll never have to wear them, McLaggen, seeing that you have a different opinion on fashion like most others." He sneered himself, anger rushing through his veins, and he was about to push Harry through the double door of the great hall, into the entrance hall from where they had access to their dungeons.

"You know, it's Snape now, not Potter, McLaggen, and they actually are from the boy's section at Gladrag's, they're Gladrag's original." Harry said before he could get the child outside. "I can understand however your mistake, because surely Gladrag wouldn't want customers who ridicule others upon their clothing."

He could see McLaggen seething with anger, he could feel Harry tensing under his hand he had resting on the boy's shoulder, and beside him Theodore and Draco took a step towards the fifth year student.

"You little traitor ..." McLaggen started, actually taking a threatening step forwards.

"That is enough." He softly said, silkily, knowing that he caused a shiver running down the students' backs, and inwardly he smirked. "McLaggen, I will see you in half an hour for detention – for starting an argument in the great hall. Harry, Draco and Theodore, you better run along, I will meet you in the parlour shortly."

"What's that been about?" He heard Towler, a Gryffindor sixth year whispering. "Snape protecting Potter? That's new."

"Told you that Potter's a spy." Stimpson answered. "That means he's in the right house, Snape's a spy too after all, was in the newspaper."

"Like father like son ..." Was the last he heard but chose to ignore for now, he would however have an eye on some Lions though, just in case, to keep his own students safe if necessary.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Gladrag!" He heard McLaggen murmuring, angrily, and he smirked. "Who'd like shoes from Gladrag!"

He had met Harry, Draco and Theodore in their parlour, thanking them for not starting a fight even though they were provoked, telling Harry that it was ok to give a comment back but that he was glad they had walked away the moment he had them ordered to, and to tell them that he would be away for the next one and a half hours.

"Designer clothes are too much regarded anyway!" The boy murmured while scrubbing cauldrons, nearly sticking with his head in them, and he had given the boy some of his most ugly cauldrons, knowing that the always so well dressed and arrogant boy would mind these cauldrons. McLaggen was one of these children that got the most expensive clothes and then rubbed it beneath the other children's noses, showing off like a peacock, often causing trouble that way.

"Gladrag's!" The boy went on murmuring. "Gladrag is no match for a real good designer! I'd die before I had to wear Gladrag's!"

Well, considering the other clothes the boy wore, all being designed by Gillian Gladrag, he did indeed rather sound jealous instead of really disgusted by the thought. Not to mention that – after Harry had seen the boots, had taken them from the shelf to have a closer look, the boy's green eyes bright, he had placed them back at the shelf, had said that he surely couldn't wear girls' shoes. Gladrag had been close at that moment, and he had come closer to tell the boy that the small and thin pink lines were neutralized by the grey lines, both colours matching with the pitch black shoes to begin with, and that they were indeed boys' shoes. He had then summoned over similar shoes, designed for girls and the pink in them had been much more and brighter lines and there were no grey lines but other, darker pink lines of which Gladrag had told them they were not pink at all, but violet and purple.

Fashion, really – he didn't know why children thought it was so important.

He had packed some of the essays he still had to grade and then he had gone to his classroom.

He had overtaken the sixth and the seventh year students meanwhile – much to Hereweald's dismay as the man thought he wouldn't manage, feared he would suffer a breakdown because of four classes he taught each week – alright, it were eight classes each week, actually, seeing that after second year the students had potions twice a week – but even though, that made one or two classes a day instead of five classes a day, like it had been in the past. And it wasn't that he had a lot of students asking for his attention either, seeing that Hereweald had overtaken Slytherin, and seeing that the Slytherin children got along with the Norwegian very well. So, now, he had not even half of the students he normally had as the head of house for Slytherin. And so, he didn't see any reason as to why he should suffer from a breakdown, for Merlin's sake!

Not to mention that on Tuesday and on Thursday afternoons Filius was to come over to their common room to ... babysit ... the children, while he was to do other things – something that had caused a smile to the bloody man's face.

Flashback

"If you could spare a moment, Filius?" He asked the Ravenclaw head of house after breakfast, after aproaching the head table, causing Minerva and Albus to look at him questioningly.

"Of course, Severus." The charms teacher answered, getting off his chair and then following him towards the staff room beside the great hall. "What can I do for you?" He then asked, after closing the door behind them.

"I would ask a favor of you, Filius." He sighed, warding the room against intruders and against eavesdroppers, causing the other to frown in curiosity.

"Anything to help, Severus." Filius said, seriously. "You know that."

"I know. And that is the reason as to why I ask you. I have been to St. Mungos with Harry." He then started to explain. "His recovery will take a very long time due to the abuse at his former caretakers' hands, and due to the little fact that – he does suffer from several disorders caused by either the abuse, or the three weeks of imprisonment."

"Of course, he does." Filius huffed.

Well, the half goblin was grandfather to several grandchildren, after all, and he was teaching at Hogwarts for about – 5000 years? Well, of course not, it was perhaps sixty years, or seventy years, but it was a long time nevertheless ... and he loved children very much. Of course he'd know a little about raising children and what might ail them.

"Of course." He agreed. "However, his healer is Adam Chandler, and that bloody idiot has taken interest in my health, just as well, accusing me of ... of having a breakdown at any moment, that idiot!" He growled, causing the small charms teacher to smile.

"I do know Adam Chandler." Filius nodded his head. "Did he not look after you several times when you've been young?"

"He did." He gritted his teeth, not liking that reminder – and neither other people knowing about it.

"And now he insists that you take a break every now and then." Filius stated. He didn't ask, he made it a statement. Bloody imbecile of a teacher! "How often?"

"Twice a week." He sighed. "That bloody imbecile!" Well, he couldn't accuse Fillius of being one, seeing that he was standing in front of him and he was asking a favor of him, but he could accuse Chandler of being one ... openly ... venting his annoyance ...

"If Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are sufficent?" Filius asked. "I do not have classes on these afternoons, and I guess that the evenings and the weekends are more important to you and your students. I have noticed that you are close together on these times."

"Indeed." He growled. "And I do thank you for your help, Filius. You do not have to ..."

"Nonsense, Severus!" The Ravenclaw head of house said. "I'm glad I can help. Minerva is busy with her deputy responsibilities, added to her head of house duties and teaching, and Pomona has to care for the greenhouses added to being a head of house and teaching. And Hereweald is new to all of this. He's doing a great job, of course, but I would not add more duties on his shoulders for the moment."

"That was, indeed, my thinking as well." The Potions Master sighed, tiredly. "I'm sorry to ask, but knowing Chandler, he'll really get child welfare into this if I don't do as he wishes."

"And he is right, Severus." Filius softly said, looking up at him. "You look like death warmed over, and yet, you allow yourself not a moment of rest."

"Anyway." He said, biting his tongue to not snap at the small man. "You have my sincer apology for causing this inconv..."

"Stop!" Filius called out, glaring at him, and for a moment he was so perplex, that he needed to blink at the small charms teacher – something that was rather unbecoming for him. "You stop right here, Severus!" Filius then repeated, calmer, but not less forcefully. "I am as much a teacher at this school as are you, and you have done so much more for these children, so please, allow me the pleasure to do my part in helping you and these children. We have been so worried, and we have felt so helpless, and now we can actually do something, you have no right to deny us this, young man! You have done enough, and now it is our part to help out – and that is final."

End flashback

Well, McLaggen cursing under his breath told him about the boy having gotten some of the goo from the cauldron at his clothes, most likely his white shirt – that was a Gladrag shirt, just by the way.

It was McLaggen's next comment, that had Severus concentrating more on the comments than on his essays.

"That bloody idiot better be very careful!" The fifth year Gryffindor hissed to himself. "Barely a Snape and already he's a git ... let's see if he's as tough as his daddy is ... maybe let's see if he's as good at potions as his daddy is ... that little traitor snake will pay ..."

Yes, he would have a very close eye on McLaggen – and on his son, for that matter. It was a clear threat McLaggen had murmured to himself, and he knew that the boy was capable of going through with his threat.

Waving his hand at the boy and muttering a spell he set an alarm on the fifth year student, an alarm that would alert him if he either came closer than a few yards towards his son, or if he came close to any of his son's belongings – or the other Wolvenhowls.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
fighting back your tears

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