Note: This doesn't take place in the universe of my "Guardian" fics. Rather, it falls into what many fans would call, "Established Severitis." I very much doubt I will write the prequel to this fic, as many have done so before, and I have enough projects on my plate! All the same, this fic idea--while far from unexplored by others--came to me, and I decided to run with it!

The Potions master opened the door to the Great Hall, and a burst of wind accosted them. Not that Harry should have been surprised. It had been chilly earlier when Wood nearly dragged him and the Weasley twins from their bed for practice. Why shouldn't it feel even colder, especially for a fall evening? Harry felt grateful for the Heating Charm Sn--his guardian/dad had placed on his clothes moments earlier, when he'd arrived in the classroom to report for detention. Besides his black school robes, he wore a fall cloak, gloves, and a scarf--the latter of which the man who'd become his guardian had shown him a clever way of tying, so that his hood remained upright.

Really, even Harry's face felt warm, despite it being the only uncovered part of him.

"This way, Potter. Don't dawdle--you'll only lengthen your detention," the Potions master warned, placing an arm around Harry's shoulders as he steered him into the cold outside.

It wasn't truly a detention. Not in the sense of a punishment, anyway. Sn--Severus had needed to gather some rather hard to find ingredients required for the potions after the Petrifications had begun, and not wanting to miss out on the time with Harry, had determined that they would spend his weekly "detention" in this manner.

Harry still couldn't believe that his once most hated teacher had become his guardian. He supposed events had been set in motion when, just after the end-of-term feast, he'd asked Snape (as he'd still the man then) to speak to him.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape had sneered.

Harry had almost lost his nerve. Or, if not his nerve, his willingness to thank the man. Probably, Snape would just make some sarcastic comment. If Harry was lucky. Could he assign detentions this late? Fail him outright?

"I wanted to thank you," he managed. "For saving my life last fall. A-at the Quidditch game. Quirrel said he'd been trying to kill me, but you'd performed the countercurse."

Snape had just stared at him.

"He said you hated me, but didn't want me to die," Harry had added, filling in the silence. "So, er, thank you."

More staring, and just as Harry had been about to bolt, Snape spoke.

"Well, Potter." He paused. "I would be remiss if I permitted any student to die. Especially such a painful death as that."

Harry had nodded, and finally, Snape had dismissed him with a hand.

Things might have gone very differently had this exchange not taken place. Apparently, the Potions master had sent Harry a letter shortly into the summer holidays, which he hadn't received. Three days after Dobby's arrival and Harry's being locked in his room, Snape had shown up.

Harry remembered how weak he'd been. Hunger hadn't been a new experience, but the Dursleys had never expected him to subsist on a can--half a can, as he'd shared with Hedwig--of soup. How long could he have gone on, had Snape not burst into their house?

And the anger. While not directed at Harry, he'd still curled up in a ball, in on himself. Snape hadn't taken kindly to that, either, and he'd expressed more ire on the Dursleys for it.

After collecting his belongings, he'd Apparated himself and Harry to his home. Harry had promptly thrown up what little food had been in his stomach. Snape hadn't sneered, yelled, or hurt him. Instead, he'd put an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him inside. He hadn't even bothered to Vanish the mess from the grass until the following day.

Even now, Harry's insides warmed when he remembered the month that followed. Snape had fed him immediately, making sure he had enough to eat, but cautioning Harry to take it slowly.

"You don't want it coming up again," he'd cautioned, but his voice had been...almost gentle. The way he spoke to Malfoy, and maybe a couple of other Slytherin students.

Then, he'd given Harry a room to sleep in. Exhausted from the three days of hunger and finally having enough to eat (which he'd not had, not really, since the end-of-term feast), Harry had fallen asleep nearly as soon as he'd gotten into bed, and hadn't experienced any nightmares.

When Harry looked back on the days that followed, he thought the change in his teacher had been sudden. Not that Snape had gone from hated teacher to mother hen overnight, but seeing Harry in the state he'd been in must have struck something. Then, there had been Harry's desire for his schoolbooks, so he could do his homework. Snape had helped him there, too.

He'd been there when Harry woke up from the nightmares. At first, Snape would just sit there, reassuring in its own way. Then, he'd ask if he could hold Harry, and when he'd nodded, arms had enveloped him completely.

Harry had never experienced a hug before that point.

Snape had offered guardianship a week before school began. Harry hadn't paused before accepting. He'd still stay at school during the Christmas and Easter holidays because, as a Head of House, Sn--Severus had to remain if any of his Slytherin students chose to do so. During the summer holidays, Harry would return to Privet Drive, but only for two weeks, and would remain in contact with Severus during this time. Then, his guardian would take him to his home--to their home.

Almost no one knew of this arrangement. Dumbledore, of course, and the Ministry, but it was confidental. Ron and his family, and Hermione. Neville had also found out. That hadn't been part of the plan, but Severus had taken it in stride, even used this as an opportunity to--like with Harry--assign Neville detentions that weren't truly detentions, but a way to mend things between them.

During these, Harry or Hermione or Ron was always present. Neville might have stopped shaking as soon as the Potions Master entered the classroom, but spending time with him outside of lessons was an ordeal.

Harry had a room in Severus's quarters, too. It was right across the hallway from him, and even contained an attached bathroom, so he wouldn't have to tiptoe into his guardian's room for that purpose. Of course, Harry still occasionally had nightmares, and Severus would be there almost as soon as he woke up, holding him and rubbing his back.

Sometimes, he was surprised by how quickly they'd gone from enemies to guardian and child. Well, not quite child. Harry was twelve, after all. But Severus would just laugh at say that twelve was still very much a child, even if Harry had survived two encounters with You-Know-Who.

If there was one thing Harry struggled with, and admittedly it was a small thing, it was what to call his guardian. You didn't call a guardian, "Guardian," even if that was his official title. Severus had told Harry he could call him by his first name, or "Dad," or whatever he felt comfortable with, as long as it wasn't disrespectful. Nothing felt exactly right, not yet, but it was only early October. Mostly, Harry alternated between "Severus" and "Dad," with the latter feeling a little more comfortable. Especially after a nightmare.

In lessons and if they saw each other in the corridors, he was still "Professor" or "sir." But Severus strongly discouraged this during their private time together.

The "detention" turned into "family time" as soon as they entered the Forbidden Forest. Harry felt this cemented as the man's arm wrapped around his frame, pulling him close. Filling Harry with more warmth, inwardly and outwardly.

"All right, Harry?" he queried, turning slightly. "Are you warm enough?"

Harry smiled, relaxing as the barrier between them fell. "I'm great. Thanks for the Heating Charm. And showing me the scarf trick."

Severus chuckled--a sound Harry hadn't heard from him until two weeks into their time together. "Good. And you're most welcome, child."

Harry could have bet his entire vault that his new dad would never call him "ickle Harrykins," but he was starting to try pet names. "Little lion" for after a particularly bad dream, "child" for when he wanted to show affection in a general manner, and "Harry" could be for that, but sometimes, for apologies.

Severus had done a lot of that, especially after learning the extent of the Dursleys' neglect. Harry had brushed them off, at first. In part because he hadn't been sure his guardian really meant them, but also because he'd never had received an apology before from an adult. And, besides, wasn't Severus caring for him now, and hadn't he tried to save Harry's life? Those ought to count, even if he had been awful last year.

He was still struggling to accept them. Not that he harbored ill feelings towards Severus, only that a part of him wanted to forget how he'd been before.

His guardian seemed to understand this. Maybe, he'd had bad experiences growing up, too. Severus never volunteered this information, and Harry didn't ask.

"This evening, Harry, we'll be searching primarily for the Oblat berries, which are dark brown in appearance. While they can be eaten by themselves, they must be perfectly ripe or you will risk a stomachache. In potions, such as the Mandrake Restorative Draught, such is not necessary. With that in mind," he went on, keeping close to Harry as they walked further into the forest, "they must be dark brown in color. I will squeeze the juice from the berries when the time for brewing arrives, and light brown berries are sorely lacking in juice."

"But sir--I mean, Severus--won't it be months until the mandrakes are ready?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and that's why I will perform a Stasis Charm this evening," he explained, gently.

"Oh, right." Harry reddened. "I forgot."

A hand squeezed his shoulders. "As you will not begin to learn about those until after your OWLs, and you are not Hermione Granger, I would hardly expect you to know about them."

Harry looked up at his guardian's face. He was smiling--yes, it was a small one, but there all the same--and wasn't his hand on his shoulders proof enough that he cared?

"Thanks. Do you study them in Potions, after that?"

"Towards the second part of your seventh year," Severus explained, "as that will be when you would brew potions that require several weeks to brew."

Harry took a deep breath. "Do--do you think I could qualify for NEWT Potions?"

"I do. Your work has improved greatly this year, Harry. Mind you, I believe that your mediocre work last year was very much due to my treatment of you." He took a deep breath. "I cannot apologize enough for that, Harry."

"It's okay, Dad. Really," Harry reassured him.

Sure, Potions had felt like torture to go to at times, but hadn't that also been because Harry had been certain that Snape was working for Voldemort, trying to steal the Stone?

His exam result in that lesson had been his lowest--passing, but not by much. He'd done lots better in his other lessons, even History of Magic.

Severus shook his head. Whether to disagree with Harry or clear his mind--he'd done both, on several occasions--Harry couldn't tell. But he hugged Harry tightly, for a long time, before Harry's arms grew tired, and he let go, prompting his guardian to do the same.

The berries would be hard to find, were it not for the light on their wands. Severus had taught Harry this handy charm over the summer, after reassuring him that underage magic can't be detected in a house with at least one other adult witch or wizard. The forbidden forest still felt a bit scary, especially at night, but far less so under the protection of his guardian.

Anyway, no doubt the Potions Master had used them before, even found them here.

Which prompted another question.

"Dad? Do you find a lot of potions ingredients here?" he asked, softly.

"Sometimes. The headmaster has no assigned figure pertaining to how much I may spend per term on ingredients, but finding them fresh and free is certainly more convenient for him than purchasing them. As well as not needing to wait for their arrival," Severus began. "Then, there's the added benefit of extra time to myself, for very few people will follow me into the Forbidden Forest."

"You prefer being alone, then?" Harry asked.

He smiled again. "Generally speaking. Your company is always welcome, child."

Harry returned the smile.

"And you? Do you prefer your own company, or that of others?" Severus went on.

They stopped in front of an assortment of bushes, all containing the berries needed. Both withdrew bags from the pockets of their robes, and began to pick the fruit.

"I reckon I prefer being with Ron and Hermione over just myself. And you, of course," Harry added, quickly. "But I'm not much for crowds of people. Not if I can pick between the two."

"An introvert, then," Severus mused.

"Is that what you are?"

"I expect that's the closest measurement of my preferences of the two. Like you, I very much dislike crowds," Severus explained, "but, present company excluded, I would be quite content going for weeks without speaking to anyone."

"Not even an animal? Like, a pet?" Harry pressed, walking towards the second bush.

"I've never been one to desire the company of animals for the sake of companionship. Mind you, I possess an owl for the sake of sending and receiving letters, and I admit that they require considerably less time to care for. Particularly with magic." He chuckled. "But I have no desire to share my thoughts with someone who cannot speak to me."

"You could get a parrot," Harry offered, with a grin.

His guardian rolled his eyes in response.

They were silent for a few minutes, focusing on collecting the berries. It would have been a simple enough task if it were a warm day, but the gloves made it more difficult to pick them without bursting them. For every one Harry placed into his bag, he had to discard another.

"Your company, as I mentioned previously, is never unwanted," Severus said, suddenly. "I would hate for you to think otherwise from my statements earlier."

"Oh, I didn't. But thanks," Harry answered, quickly.

"You're welcome, child," Severus returned, staring at Harry.

His gaze felt gentle, loving, even.

Harry wasn't sure how long they picked the berries. Certainly, more than an hour. They didn't strip the bushes bare, stopping when Severus had determined they had a more than sufficient amount.

"What if more students get attacked?"

"This will be ample for twenty students. If more than that number are attacked, the school will likely close down for at least the term." Seeing the fear on Harry's face, Severus added, "You will remain with me until the summer holidays, should this occur, and we will keep current on your lessons."

Ron ribbed Harry about having a teacher as his guardian, someone who would nag him about his homework and his marks. Hermione, of course, thought this was a very good thing, not just for Harry, but in general.

Harry was more inclined to agree with Hermione. It wasn't just that Severus cared about him finishing his homework in a timely manner and doing well in lessons. Even though Harry's new guardian was particularly skilled at Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, there were few subjects he did not excel at. Which meant, if Professor Flitwick or McGonagall (as he was now expected to refer to them--at least in front of Severus) taught something and Harry didn't fully grasp it, he could ask his dad. Who explained it far better than Hermione, if he had to be honest with himself.

They walked in the direction of the castle. Midway through, Severus checked his watch. "It's still fairly early."

It being a Friday night, Harry usually stayed in Severus's quarters. Saturdays were a tossup, and Sundays always meant ending the weekend with his guardian. It was more difficult during the week, but that was where the invisibility cloak came in handy. Especially when it was his guardian's turn to patroll the corridors. It was difficult, in part, because it meant not getting "caught" by his other roommates at sneaking out or, more accurately, never arriving in their shared room. When five boys slept in the same room, even with four-poster beds, it was obvious when someone consistently wasn't there when the others went to bed or woke up.

The easiest thing would be to tell Dean and Seamus, then swear them to secrecy. Nothing as drastic as an Unbreakable Vow, but maybe assigning all three detention and having Severus tell them then. That was what Harry thought, anyway.

His guardian wasn't adamantly against the idea, but he was also of the mindset that the fewer people who knew, the better.

It could be worse. Harry could not have a room, could not have Severus as a guardian. A man who, despite his seemingly terrifying exterior, could be incredibly loving, kind, and with a sense of humor similar to his own. Who, on the rare occasion Harry woke up in a cold sweat after a bad dream, would still hold him, rub his back, and reassure him that he was loved--and safe--until Harry gradually fell back to sleep.

"Could we play Chess?" Harry asked, hopefully.

Severus nodded. "And have hot chocolate and biscuits, if you like."

His dad, to Harry's surprise, had more than somewhat of a sweet tooth.

So, that's what they did, after entering Severus's quarters and preparing most of their bedtime routines--minus brushing their teeth, of course. Dressed in their night clothes, with dressing gowns over them for added warmth, they sat in the sitting room, each determined to best the other in Chess.

Harry won--barely.

Then, after brushing their teeth, they read together on the couch, a blanket over them, Harry nestled into his dad's side. Before long, he found himself unable to keep his eyes open, but also lacked the energy to move.

Harry found himself being lifted up, his dad's arms around him.

"Wha..." he murmured.

"Shh," his dad soothed. "It's all right."

Then, Harry felt himself being tucked into bed, his glasses removed from his face.

"Mmm."

"Shall I stay with you until you fall asleep?" came a soft voice.

"Yes, please," Harry whispered, turning on his side.

He felt the bed shift slightly, then a hand carding his hair. It felt so good, he almost didn't want to fall asleep right away.

But between his soft pajamas (a birthday gift from his guardian), the equally soft and warm blankets, and the rhythmic, relaxing feel of his dad's fingers making their way over his scalp, and the knowledge that he was safe and loved, Harry felt his eyes grow heavy, and a deep, restful sleep followed.

The end

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