Harry wakes up feeling disgusting. His head aches – his whole body actually, he can't breathe through his nose, and he feels both too hot and too cold all at once. It doesn't take much to figure out that he is sick. Great. Just what he needs on top of everything else. As if classes weren't hard enough.

And then his memory kicks in and he remembers both how much shite he is likely in and how school work is the least of his troubles right now. He warily opens an eye, but he doesn't immediately know where he is. Not the dorm. And not the Hospital Wing. So where did they take him? What is going to happen to him next?

He has enough self awareness to feel vaguely embarrassed about passing out like that, but only a little. Enough to know that it was pathetic. Disgusting, really. But not nearly enough to be able to do anything about it. Not with the way he feels like hell right now. Blinking, he tries to place the room he is in, but he can't see it very well without his glasses.

Before he can decide what to do, the door opens and Professor Snape walks in. Harry doesn't need his glasses to recognize him. Nor does he need them to know that he is scowling darkly. He looks to be in a foul mood. Swallowing nervously, he looks down at the bed. He has to blink back tears as his eyes water. He can add throat to the things that ache. Better to make a list of things that don't at this point. It would be easier. And shorter.

"Potter, glad to see you are back among the living," Professor Snape drawls, "You have been mostly unconscious for three days now. But that is what happens when one spends the day outside in autumn without proper clothing, is it not? Especially when one has been feeling poorly before this."

Harry wrings the covet in his hands, not looking up. Not needing to look up to know what expression his Professor is wearing. His voice says it all. A vial is thrust into his line of vision.

"Time for your potions Potter," Professor Snape says.

Harry knows better to complain, especially now. He takes the potion, holding back a grimace at the taste. The empty vial is plucked out of his hands and another replaces it.

"Now this one next."

All told, Harry takes five potions. He recognizes them all– his nutrient potion, fever reducer, pain reliever, muscle relaxant and a milder sleeping potion then Dreamless Sleep. He takes them all without a word. Part of him is shocked that he is being offered anything at all. Not only has he been a terrible nuisance and a burden besides, this isn't something he is use to. His Aunt certainly never cared for him when he was sick. He worked through it. Or, if it got too bad and he might be contagious, he was locked in his cupboard until he was better. Maybe he would get half a pill, if she was feeling generous and some crust and water. Other than that, he is use to being left on his own.

Not that he thinks his Professor would be particularly cruel about this. But he is obviously taking up his time and energy. Time and energy he could be using on something more useful than him. Why he didn't get dumped in the Hospital Wing, he doesn't know. Unless Madam Pomfrey doesn't want to bother with him either.

"Sleep Potter," Professor Snape says, "We will talk when you are feeling better."

That sounds ominous. But Harry can't worry about it for too long before he is asleep again.

.

.

The best care can come from the least expected places, sometimes. Never judge a book by its cover, as the saying goes.

.

.

He is in and out of sleep for the next, well, Harry doesn't know how long exactly. Most of the time it never really feels as if he is awake at all. Sometimes he remembers drinking his potions. Sometimes he remembers Riddle sitting on the bed next to him, stroking his hair with a possessive smile. Sometimes he is back in his cupboard at the Dursleys. Sometimes he doesn't know where he is, all he knows is that he has to get away. Get out. He isn't safe here. Isn't welcome. He tries to get away, but he can't. Something always stops him.

Most of the time his sleep isn't very restful until suddenly it is. Or it has to be because he doesn't remember anything else until he wakes up feeling much better than before. Sure, his muscles still vaguely ache. And he feels tender all over. And his chest sort of rattles when he breathes. But he is clear headed now, not trapped inside his nightmares, which is a blessing right there. He is feeling better now. Well enough that he should prepare himself to be kicked out now.

Kicked out and told off. He has a hazy memory of Professor Snape telling him they will talk when he is better. Well, he is better now. Time to face the consequences. He braces himself and gets out of bed. Briefly he has to hold on to steady himself. His legs are a bit shaky. But then he lets go and exits the room.

Both Professor Black and Professor Snape look up as he does. Oh. He must be in their quarters. Oh. Then he has been an even bigger burden than he thought he was, invading their space like this.

"What in the blue blazes are you doing out of bed Potter?" Professor Snape asks, "Trying to get sick again?"

"Ah Harry, glad to see you are finally awake. Again," Professor Black says, "What I believe Severus is trying to ask is why you have left your bed so soon after being so sick?" There is a teasing smile on his face, but it doesn't quite mask the worry in his eyes.

Professor Snape scowls. "I mean exactly what I said," he grumbles.

Harry blinks at them. "I'm fine now Sirs," he says and then begins to cough. Try as he might to stop, he can't. It is as if there is a kilo of gravel in his throat.

"So I can see," Professor Snape says bitingly.

"How about a good soak in the bath," Professor Black says, "that should help your chest. And I bet you would like to be clean after almost two weeks without. Cleaning charms only go so far I know." He stands and herds Harry into the loo before he can protest.

Two weeks? He has been asleep almost two weeks? How? He knew he was sick, but surely he couldn't have been that bad. Carefully he watches as Professor Black prepares the bath himself. He fills the tub with water, adjusting it so that it is the right temperature, and then adds something to it. The room begins to fill with the sweet scent of lavender.

"There you are," he says, "take your time. No need to rush right now. And call if you need anything." He briefly squeezes Harry on the shoulder and leaves.

Harry stands there blinking in shock for a moment before obeying. A sigh of pure pleasure escapes as he slips into the water. While he never would have said anything himself, Professor Black was right. Harry did feel more than a bit grimy after waking up. Dried sweat and the feeling of not being able to shower often enough. He hates that feeling. Cleaning charms really do only go so far.

He sinks into the water, letting himself just enjoy it for a few moments before he begins to clean. No matter what Professor Black said, Harry shouldn't linger for too long. He has already wasted enough of their time as is. He is sure they want him gone and out of the way soon. More than soon. So he scrubs himself once and then does it again. He does his hair three times, making sure it no longer feels itchy and gross under his fingers.

Leaning back he gives himself a few more moments to enjoy this. When will he ever get something like this again? Likely never, that's when. So he gives himself just a few more moments, no matter how much he doesn't deserve this.

But then he must have drifted off again because he starts when he hears a knocking on the door. "Harry, are you fine in there?" Professor Black asks.

"Ye -yes," he says, having to clear his throat to get the word out.

"Alright, we just wanted to make sure. There are clean pajamas for you to dress in. When you are done, come out to the living room. You can have your next set of potions there and some tea and toast, if your stomach can handle it."

Harry nods and then remembers he can't see the gesture. "Yes Sir," he says.

"Good. I'll leave you to it then." Footsteps walk away.

Harry carefully gets out and dresses in the clean pajamas. He can admit that he feels even better now from when he woke up. Grimacing at the water, he drains the tub and puts his towel in the hamper for the laundry before exiting. Cautiously he enters the living room where he is promptly directed to the couch and given his potions. The only difference is that he now has a stomach soother instead of a sleeping draft.

"Now Potter," Professor Snape says after he is finished, "would you like to explain your logic behind your escape? Because I find myself curious about how my Slytherin could have acted such like a Gryffindor. Or do I have the ginger menaces to blame for that?" He raises an eyebrow in demand for an answer.

"No Sir," he says, focusing on his knees instead. He had wedged himself into the corner of the couch, so not to take up any more room than he needs to.

Professor Black hands him a large mug of tea. Instead of drinking right away, he holds it to his chest, feeling the warmth of it sink in from the outside. It also gives him something else to focus on, which he is grateful for. Carefully he takes a sip of it and now the warmth spreads through him on the inside as well. It helps, some.

Professor Black then sets a plate of toast on the small table in front of him. "Eat when you feel like you can," he says then takes a seat in the chair beside Professor Snape.

"Would that be a no against the ginger menaces or to explaining yourself?" Professor Snape asks, "Because I would hope that it would be the former of the two."

Harry nods and then shrugs and then tugs his hair in frustration. He knows he needs to explain. There is no getting out of it. Why are words so hard though? It's not even his reluctance to have this conversation, although it is there. It's just the words are like weights in his throat. They are too heavy to get out.

"Let's start with the basics then shall we?" Professor Snape continues, "We have heard from Draco that you had been unwell that day. You would not get out of bed and sounded particularly wretched, according to his words, when he talked to you. He told the Professors as promised. Then, when he went back to check on you, you were gone. A quick check of the Hospital Wing confirmed that you hadn't gone there and the search commenced.

"The other Professors, those who were free, searched the school. Several portraits had seen you running away, but did not know where to. It was only when the Headmaster remembered that blasted map that we finally knew you were in the Forbidden Forest of all places. Hagrid went to retrieve you and came back with a parade of unicorns of all things. They are still being sighted, in case you are wondering. Hagrid appears to be right – they have adopted you. Now, shall we hear your side of the story Mr Potter? Now."

Harry takes another sip of tea, more to brace himself than anything. "I... I couldn't get out of bed that day. I just couldn't. Everything was just," he shakes his head in frustration, "But then I had to get out. I had to. I had to get away. I just," he shrugs, "and the Forbidden Forest was just," he shrugs again, not knowing how to explain it so they will understand. It seems so impossible. "Then I got lost. A bit. That's when the unicorn, she found me. And at first I thought," he clutches his mug, "but she brought me back to her herd instead. And they guarded me while I slept." He gives a final shrug and doesn't look up. He doesn't want to see the expression on either of his Professors faces.

"That would be both the depression and the fatigue taking effect then," Professor Black says.

That is enough to get Harry to look up. "Sir?" he asks.

"Ah yes, you have officially been diagnosed with fatigue. The depression is our own, which you already knew of in any case, so it is not on any records that anyone can get ahold of. Unlike your names," he adds darkly, more to himself than to Harry, "But fatigue, most likely brought on by a combination of stress and nightmares, would explain much of what you have been feeling this past term."

Harry doesn't know where to start with that. Several questions pop into his mind, but he stays silent. He isn't sure if he is allowed to ask them. If he is allowed to talk anymore now that he has – sort of – told his side of things.

But the questions must be obvious on his face because Professor Black answers him, "Fatigue can cause tiredness, headaches, muscle strain, moodiness, a lack of motivation, loss of appetite and a number of other things. Given that some of these symptoms overlap with your depression as well, which would have likely only made it worse.

"As for your medical records, every student at Hogwarts have them. And, rather unfortunately in this case, they also contain a record of any name on your wrist. That is how Skeeter found out. Someone broke into your record and then told her." He scowls darkly, "We do not know who yet, but once we do, they are going to regret the decision for quite some time to come."

Shivering, Harry is reminded that Professor Snape isn't the only scary one in their relationship. Just because Professor Black doesn't show it all the time, doesn't mean he can't be. He remembers him in the graveyard. He can be just as scary and just as lethal as Professor Snape ever is.

He nods in thanks and takes the last drink of tea. Now what? What are they going to do to him now?

"The next question Potter, is what triggered this latest episode, if anything," Professor Snape says then, "Dare I assume it is that charming article that has been circling around like a demented chicken?"

Harry grimaces at that. It wouldn't be an inaccurate statement, no. Although that is not where his trouble started. The social upheaval did that. Then again, if one were being completely accurate, the start of it all would have been when he killed Voldemort as a baby. Or maybe when he had been born. He doubts that that is an answer he would want however.

"I see. Dare I next assume that you have been having thoughts about this? That you assume that she is right?"

Harry nods, feeling ashamed for some reason.

"I see. Would you care to explain why that is?"

"Because it's true!" Harry blurts out, "I've known it was true for years now. How else can I have this terrible power inside me?"

"Explain," is all Professor Snape says, but that's all he needs to say.

It is as if a flood gate has been opened and everything comes spilling out. While earlier the words were too heavy for Harry, now they are as light as a feather. No. Lighter than a feather. Because feathers float. These words pour out of him instead. He trips over the words, trying to get them out quick enough. He talks about his magic and what he figured out about it. He tells them about his conversation with Granger and how she helped him realize it all. He explains this terrible power and what he thought it was doing to other people. He talks about Draco and his nightmares and Black and never being good enough and a Freak and how, for him, soulmates aren't real and, well, everything. Everything.

He is panting slightly when he is done, as if he has just run a long race. As if he has been running for years instead of talking. He is oddly lighter as well. As if it really is possible, right here and now for him to float away. How strange.

Professor Snape looks thunderous. "I am going to kill him," he says calmly. Much too calmly, perhaps, for a man contemplating murder.

Professor Black doesn't look too upset about that, although he does add, "I believe that death would be too good for him at this moment."

"I never said that I was going to be quick about it," he snaps, "Potter."

Harry can't help but flinch at the tone.

Professor Snape sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Harry," he begins again, "while there are numerous flaws in your train of thought, there are two that we are going to correct right now before you go back to bed to rest. Tell me, have you ever heard of occlumency?"

Harry shakes his head, watching him carefully.

"It is a means to guard your mind from mental attacks. It's counter – legilimency – allows you to read a person's mind. The more skilled you are, the less effort and concentration you need to breach their mind. Once in, the legilimen can read thoughts, memories and shape those thoughts as they will, if they are strong enough. The two greatest legilimens of our age Voldemort and Dumbledore. And do you know what?" He leans forward, a proud smirk lighting his face.

"No Sir," Harry says, feeling as if this is a question he should answer.

"Neither of them have ever been able to break through my shields. Yes, my legilimency is excellent, but my occlumency is second to none. Do you know what this means?"

"You made a good spy?" Harry asks tentatively. Partly because he thinks that it is true and partly to change the subject. He has an idea of where this is going and he's not sure how he feels about it. If he can believe it.

Professor Snape snorts at that. "Brat," he says, in that slightly fonder tone that always lets Harry know that he is secretly amused by his sass, even if he will never admit to it. "It means that no matter how powerful your brain has convinced yourself this so called power is, I am better. I have to be, yes, to have survived this long. It made me a very good spy." He smiles sharply at this, all teeth and sharp edges.

Something about that look makes Harry relax. It isn't because it is soothing, but because it is the exact opposite. He knows Professor Snape is a fighter, a survivor. He knows just how vicious he is. He isn't one to take things lying down. If there is something wrong, now that he knows, he can trust Professor Snape to fight it. He may not be able to trust much else, but he knows he can trust that. Still, "But-" he starts softly.

"No Harry, this is not something you can debate," Professor Snape says firmly, "I know my shields and I know my mind. Whatever power your mind has convinced you that you possess, you are still only fifteen years old. Add to that that this is not the way Horcruxes work and you are not getting past my shields. And in any case, I have never felt so much of a hint of attack from you. If it hasn't happened to me, then it hasn't happened to anyone of the people you spend time with. Understand?"

Part of Harry wants to argue more. Wants to try to convince him. Wants to accuse Professor Snape of not listening to him. Only he can't because Harry knows that he is. Professor Snape has never been one to dismiss him, especially not when he has worries such as this. He is trying to help solve his problems, not add to them. Harry may not know why he bothers, but he does know that.

"As to this 'terrible power' as you call it, Potter," he sighs, "haven't you ever heard of wandless magic you ridiculous child?"

Something in Harry freezes at that. Wandless magic? What is he talking about? Of course he has heard of it. Even if he hadn't, the name explains itself well enough. Magic without a wand. He knows that you begin to learn it your sixth year. Fred and George have talked about it often enough. But this can't be it because it isn't like that. Wandless magic doesn't work that way. Does it?

"In lieu of a wand, the hands are the conductor of your magic. You said your hands tingled when the rock wall exploded down in the Chamber? That was exactly what you were feeling. Not everyone is able to, which is why not everyone can perform wandless magic easily. Some may never be able to. It would appear that if cultivated correctly, it may come naturally to you."

Harry stares at Professor Snape in shock. What? Natural at wandless magic, him? How... how can that be possible when he isn't good at anything?

"Do you remember when you first met Sirius in your third year?" Professor Black asks then, "The shields that you formed around us? That is another example of what Severus is talking about. It is true that this isn't the usual way wandless magic manifests, but we both suspect that your magic will always be slightly different from everyone else's."

That makes Harry hunch in on himself. Different. Great, just what he wants to hear. He knows what different really means – Freak. It always means Freak when it comes to him. Nothing good ever comes from being different.

"This means you protected yourself," Professor Black insists, "You know that a Horcrux is a container for a person's soul. But that does not automatically make the container evil. Yes, it can be tainted by this foul magic, but that is only if there are no other protections on it. Harry, you are a living thing with your own magic – strong magic at that. Your magic is going to protect you the best that it can. Likely it mutated a bit to contain your core from the Horcrux.

"You also have your Mother's protection as well. There is rarely any stronger magic than a Mother's sacrifice. It is extremely powerful, if unpredictable magic. It can manifest in many different ways. Here it protected you from Voldemort's magic. That would have only helped your magic protect you from the Horcurx's influence.

"The burns you inflicted on Quirrell were unfortunate, but it was also a strong protection in saving your life. Even Lightest spell can kill if the situation demands it. In any case, it was the shock of Voldemort leaving his host that killed him, not you. No the burns would not have been pleasant. There is every chance that they would be damaging and likely scarring. But his death is not your fault."

Harry doesn't know what to think about all of this. It all feels like too much information at once. He has spent all this time understanding what he is, what he can do. Now he is being told that he is wrong. That he isn't a monster like he thought. He isn't useless or worthless. That everything that has been crowding his thoughts and drowning him is wrong.

"The only power in your body is your own," Professor Snape says, "You are the only person who gets to decide what you are going to do with it. No one else. No outside force nor any unconscious inside force. Only you."

Only him. Only Harry. It is almost hard to imagine. He has never been in charge of anything in his own life. That is what made it so easy to believe that this terrible power inside of him was controlling people whether he wished it or not. Because what else can Harry control in his life? Not much. Not the truly important bits. "But what about my names?" he asks. Because that is one of the top things that Harry has no control over. One of the things that seems to control him instead.

"How do the names work?" Professor Snape asks.

Harry huffs in frustration at that. Why is he asking? Everyone knows how they work, if not the true way they appear. Still he answers, "The names appear on your wrist when you are born. Some people have one, some people have two. Other people have none at all. One is supposed to be your soulmate. The other is suppose to be your enemy. There is no way to tell what name is which. No one can explain them beyond that."

"Correct. And have you ever heard of people sharing a soulmate before?"

Harry looks questioningly at him. Share a soulmate? Yes, there are triad bonds out there, but those are suppose to be rare. And complicated because it's not as if you can have two soulmate names on your wrist. So you have one and the other person might have yours. Or they might have someone else's. And a third person might have one or the other. Maybe a person has no names at all, but both people have their name. There are endless possibilities and all of them include work for the relationship to settle and to grow. There is always a touch of scandal around them as well. "It's rare, isn't it?" he asks.

"Yes," Professor Snape nods, "it is. And there are some people that do not believe they exist at all, but that the people are going against the magic of the names. However, that is not the point right now. Have you ever heard of people sharing an enemy's name?"

Harry pauses to think about that. He... he isn't sure about that one. Again there are stories. More stories about that than about sharing a soulmate. It's not seen as quite as scandalous. He remembers the stories he use to read, when he was hiding from Dudley and his gang in the school library. Stories of the two heroes teaming up to defeat the bad guy. They may have never have heard of each other before they met, tracking the bad guy down. Then they would go on the quest to defeat him. It was all very grand. But has he ever heard of it happening outside of a story book? He doesn't think so. "In books," he answers.

Professor Black walks over to join him on the couch. "It can happen in more than books. It is a recorded phenomenon, although most people don't even realize it. Because names are not talked about, they never know that they may share an enemy with someone. Just because they are your enemy doesn't mean that you have to confront them about it after all." As he talks he begins to roll up the sleeves to his shirt.

Harry watches, eyes riveted to the sight. It is clear what he is doing, but why? Can he really mean that...? He can't even seem to finish the question in his own head. Part of him is nervous. Showing your names is suppose to be a big deal. It isn't something you do casually. He has never seen another person's name. Yes he has been told, but he has never seen it before.

Professor Black deftly unties the cuffs that cover the names. Something about them remind Harry of his own. He wonders if they have the same protections that his does. It seems likely. Maybe even more. Professor Black had a much more dangerous job before, defeating Voldemort.

He slips the first one off and shows it to Harry. Severus Snape it reads. That one is no surprise. He already knows that those two are soulmates. But it is when he shows Harry his other wrist that he stops breathing. Tom Riddle. It stands out boldly against the pale of his skin.

Tom Riddle.

Harry's thoughts are in a whirl. Without much thought he takes his own cuff off so that he can compare them side by side. Tom Riddle. It looks identical to Harry's. The same name, the same style of writing, the same bold black, everything. Everything about these two names are the same. It is enough to make Harry's head spin. He begins to feel slightly lightheaded. Dizzy, as if the world has picked up speed around him.

"I have known Tom Riddle was my enemy since I was twelve. That was the year I knew Severus was mine, no matter how stubbornly he denied it." He smirks, "The last thing he wanted at the time was another Black you see. But I was stubborn and refused to be pushed away. Of course it was work, but anything with Severus is."

"Thank you ever so much dear," Professor Snape drawls.

Harry has to cover his mouth to stop the giggles from coming out. Those two are ridiculous. Sometimes he thinks that they do it on purpose.

Professor Black winks at him. "But it was worth it." Then he sobers, looking serious again, "I learned just who Tom Riddle was when I was seventeen and already Marked – both of us were. By then it was too late or so I thought. That was around the time I learned of Voldemort's Horcurxes. That was when we vowed to stop him, no matter the cost."

Harry can't seem to take his eyes off of Professor Black's wrist. His thoughts are racing too fast for him to keep track of them all, it seems like. Tom Riddle. Professor Black has Tom Riddle on his wrist – his enemy. Even if Tom Riddle wasn't Voldemort, wasn't evil, he still wouldn't be Professor Black's soulmate. He and Professor Snape fit too well together.

Can that mean that Harry can still be Voldemort's soulmate, even with this revelation? Even someone's enemy is allowed to have a soulmate of their own, surely? But for the first time he feels the beginning of doubt start to bloom in him. It feels the same as his hope – fragile and dangerous. As if this could be true. As if he could have this. As if he doesn't have to worry about being evil or a monster or anything like that.

Maybe the two feelings are really one and the same. Professor Black has Tom Riddle as an enemy. Why can't Harry? Professor Black was Marked by Voldemort and he broke away. So why can't Harry? Maybe, even if this is true, even if he might be Voldemort's soulmate, who says he has to accept it? He doesn't believe in soulmates anymore. Not the way he should. So why should he accept that he is Voldemort's? That he is Tom Riddle's?

Maybe this means that Tom Riddle truly is his enemy. Maybe it doesn't. But either way, Harry doesn't have to accept it. He is a fighter. A survivor. Yes, some days he wishes he wasn't, but that doesn't change it. He is a fighter. He fights every day of his life for something or other. What makes this any different? Why give up now?

Hope is a terrible thing. But, sometimes, it can be wonderful as well.

"If I had realized just how much this was bothering you, I would have shown you much sooner," Professor Black chides gently.

Harry ducks his head, but the words don't mean much to him. Not now, with everything else in the way. Not with the other information he has just been given. Not with the revelation he just had. And really, it isn't as if they don't know about his trust issues either. Are they really surprised?

"Time to go back to bed now," Professor Snape says, breaking Harry out of his thoughts, "It will not do for you to have a relapse."

Harry jumps at that, not expecting it. Honestly, he sort of forgot that he wasn't alone, there for a moment. He bites his lip nervously, wanting to ask, but not sure if he should. Not sure why he is still here. Surely he has taken up enough of their time already.

"Yes Potter?" Professor Snape asks.

"Yes Sir, but when," he swallows, "when will I be going back to class? And why am I here and not the Hospital Wing?" he asks quickly.

"To the latter, you are here because this is where you are most comfortable. Am I right in assuming you would not want Madam Pomfrey – or anyone else – to find out about your nightmares?"

Harry nods.

"You had a high fever by time you were found. That means you were delirious most of the time until it could be gotten under control. If you had stayed in the Hospital Wing, I can assure you that others would be much more aware of the issues you have. That includes the Headmaster as well. I am sure Poppy would have had something to say to him if she knew even half about what you raved about."

Harry can feel himself blushing in embarrassment, but also feeling dread at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wants is for the Headmaster to know anything more about him than he already does. Especially something like this. That would be a disaster, he is sure. He meddles far too much for it to be otherwise.

"As to the latter, you will be going back to classes after Christmas Break."

"What? No!" Harry jerks his head up to look at him, horrified. After Break? No, he can't. He is already drowning in everything already. How is he going to survive after, with all the work he will miss? And what about his projects? Will he fail them?

"Do you believe that you are the first student to have a break down over their OWLs? Or to become seriously sick?" Professor Snape raises an eyebrow at him, "Because I assure you, you are not. We Professors are well equipped to handle this. Not only that, you have been dangerously sick for two weeks. This is also the first time you have been both awake and lucid. Your body needs time to recover from that. Missing the three weeks before the end of the term is not going to be as disastrous as you believe. Neither I nor Regulus will allow you to fail anything because of this."

"Professor McGonagall is willing to grade you on the work you have already done," Professor Black says next, "You and Ms Granger will write separate essays, but two that will be meant to be read together. You two may discuss it, although not for as long as I am sure Ms Granger would wish.

"As well, Mr Longbottom has already been discussing the possibility of spending break here so that the two of you may work. We will be providing you with your other school work. Any book that is not available in our own library can be borrowed and read here. Do not panic over this. You will not fail, understand?"

Harry nods, although it is more automatic then believing. Don't panic? Easy for them to say. But something in him also settles at their reassurance. They will watch him. They won't let him fall. They will catch him if he does. He may not understand why they bother, but he knows they will.

"Rest," Professor Snape says, "The ginger menaces and Ms Lovegood will not be allowed to see you otherwise. And if they try to sneak into our quarters one more time, I am going to hang them by their toes to the ceiling," he grumbles.

Harry can't help the smile he gives at that. Yes, that sounds exactly like them. "Yes Sir," he says and stands. Quickly he has to grab onto Professor Black for support because the world spins around him. Oh. So that would be what Professor Snape is talking about then. Yes, he still obviously needs to recover. Professor Black stands and wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder for support. "Come now, time to sleep. We can talk more later."

"We will be talking more later," Professor Snape adds firmly.

It sounds like both a promise and a threat. Harry can't say that he is looking forward to it. If he thought their talks were bad before, they are sure to be nothing like they will be now. Goody. Still he doesn't protest. Not that there would be a point to it, even if he did.

"And Potter, what have I said about my name?" he asks.

Harry blinks for a moment at that. Oh. "It is Severus, not Sev?"

"Yes. Make sure that you remember that in the future."

Professor Black chuckles as he herds Harry back into bed. "However, I am fine with Reg if you should ever desire, just not Reggy." He makes a face at that.

Harry remembers that Black once called him that. He didn't react well. "Yes Sir."

Professor Black tucks him in. "Sleep well. Call if you need anything."

Harry can already feel his eyes begin to close. He had thought that he would have trouble falling asleep, with everything he has learned. Clearly his body has other ideas. "Night Reg," he slurs, already mostly asleep.

A smooth laugh. A hand to his hair. "Goodnight Harry."

Harry sleeps.

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.

It is hard having a long held belief torn from you. It makes you feel as if the ground has been pulled out from under your feet. As if the Earth has come off its axis. Nothing seems quite right after that. After all, if one thing can change, why can't all of it? You have known it for so long and with such conviction, how can it possibly be a lie?

.

.

True to their word, neither Severus nor Regulus let him drown in school work. He suspects that the number of assignments have been reduced on purpose, but he can't prove it. He doesn't know if he wants to prove it. He is busy enough without it. Technically he is still on bed rest, but that doesn't change the fact that he is still working on essays and such.

To keep him from being too restless, he is allowed to move to the couch to work, but for the first week that is the extent of it. Nor is he allowed to study for too long. Taking breaks helps avoid stress apparently, or so he's been told. Multiple times. Usually when his books are being forcibly taken away from him. Regulus has taken to accusing him of pouting when he does.

Harry can't help it though. Everything is so boring without anything to do. He isn't allowed to wander around. Everyone is in class. He can't study continuously. The only option left is to read something else. Fortunately Regulus was not joking about their library. There is an entire room dedicated to Severus' and Regulus' books. Not as impressive as the Black library, but still impressive nonetheless. Enough to have something to do.

And then there is the talking. True to his word, Severus does indeed begin talking to Harry more. Much more. If someone were to ask Harry, he would say too much in fact. It's just a shame that no one asked him. It is just as much fun as he had been expecting it to be – that is, not at all. Add to the fact the Severus insists on them talking every other night and Harry sort of dreads those evenings.

It is a good thing Regulus teaches Astronomy so that he is able to be with Harry during the day while Severus is teaching. Then, when Regulus has to leave for office hours before class, Severus is there. Harry feels as if he is being very managed. Pass back and forth like a ball two children are playing with. It is enough to make him dizzy some days.

The lack of privacy is enough to about drive him out of his skin as well. Not to say that they will not respect his wish to be alone if he so desires. But there seems to be a limit on that. And even when he is technically alone, he is aware that there is always someone present, just out of view. Almost as if they are hovering. Judging. Ready to condemn him as soon as he does something wrong. Not that they are, but it is enough to make him feel that is what they are doing.

Fortunately he does not always have to deal with them alone. Harry considers it a minor miracle, but the twins, Luna and Draco are all allowed into their quarters to visit him. Not alone of course. Either Severus or Regulus are always there. But they are still able to spend time together. Harry suspects it has something to do with them making sure that he does not isolate himself. Severus has mentioned the importance of that a few times. This is obviously his way.

It is always interesting when they come. Luna still insists on gluing herself to his side. Although now she is satisfied with sitting beside him on the couch. The twins attempt to keep him laughing continuously. Be it with their antics, their bantering, their jokes, clearly their goal is to make Harry laugh as much as possible. They also give him any help he may need with his work. They have a knack for explaining anything he may not understand better than some of the Professors. Then again, that may be because he is so use to the George and Fred's language, he understands them better.

Draco is another matter entirely. He doesn't really talk much when any of the others are there. Not as in a I-am-too-good-for-you kind if way, but a thoughtful, watching way. As if he is observing all he can to use the knowledge later. Harry can't think that it is that helpful, but it must be because Draco never complains about it. He has also gotten better about not being such a right prat all the time. He still has his moments, but Harry suspects that he always will. Some might even find it charming.

Harry is still waiting though. He doesn't know what to think. Just like he doesn't know what to think about Regulus insisting that Riddle isn't his soulmate. And Severus insisting that there is no great evil power inside of him. He is still waiting to see about that too. Thinking and gathering new information. Part of him wants to believe it, desperately so. But the other part of him is much more cautious. That is the part of him that knows what happens when he hopes too much. Disappointment always follows somehow.

Still, it is pleasant, generally speaking, to have them join him in their quarters. He doesn't feel quite as itchy and as judged when they are there. Of course they can't always be there. They have their own studies and hobbies as well. But it is always nice when they come.

It startles him when he realizes that he is slowly beginning to think of these quarters as his. They certainly feel more like a home than anywhere else. Most certainly the Dursleys, but even the dorms or the room at Grimmauld Place. There, in the first room that was ever his, comes the closest to feeling like home. But something had been missing. Now, in the spare bedroom he has been living in, it comes together for him. It looks like his room, not just a room he is staying in.

It scares him, feeling this. It is dangerous, just like the hope is dangerous. How does he know this will last? What guarantee does he have that this day will not be the day that they tire of him? That it will not be the day when, once again, he loses something he thought was secure. He doesn't. And so he waits for the other shoe to drop. Even as he laughs and smiles and cautiously feels like maybe, just maybe, he might belong here, he waits.

It feels as if he has been waiting his whole life practically. And he is right, there always ends up being something. But now he is so tired of waiting. It is what he lives by, but that doesn't mean that he has to like it. It just means that he has to do it.

And so he carries on.

One thing, as much as he dislikes his and Severus' talks, they do seem to be helping. At least they are if his nightmares are anything to go by. They are still present and they still chill him to the bone. Riddle is still there whispering in his ear. But they do seem to be decreasing again. And changing. Riddle isn't always at the center of them now. The first time he gets a nightmare about the Dementors he about cries from the relief of it all. Yes, no nightmare is a good nightmare, but at least it wasn't Riddle.

At least it wasn't Riddle. At least it was something else. Thank Merlin. Some people might point out how messed up that is. They wouldn't be wrong. Harry knows that it is. But when hasn't something in his life been messed up? He has never lived in a fairy tale, no matter what the Wizarding World thought when he was younger. No happily ever after for him.

It brings to mind the tale of Cinderella. That was his favorite story when he was younger. The young girl, forced to work for the people that should have taken care of her, going to the Ball and finding her Prince. He would have to have been blind not to see the similarities. He had hoped for the same, secretly. Then his mind would inevitably point out that she wasn't a Freak. She got her happily ever after because she was normal. She deserved it. She wasn't a burden or a Freak like Harry was.

It was only on the surface that they were similar. Still that didn't stop him from reading the story over and over again until he memorized it. He knew all the stories in those books. He never cared that they were 'girl stories'. Stories about Princesses finding their soulmates and their happiness. That was what Harry wanted. What he wished for for so long. One person. Just one person to love him as he was.

Now he knows there is no such thing. Not in the real world. Nothing is ever so simple. Still, late at night when he can't sleep, when he wakes up gasping for breath, he can't help but hope. Can't help but wish for it again.

It is foolish he knows. A waste of time and effort. But like a weed, once hope begins to grow inside of him again, it spreads. It infects things that it has no business touching. Choking out sensibility and making him more daring with his dreams instead. It is both a hindrance and a joy to have. The difference between the two is enough to give him a headache, so he tries to avoid overthinking it. He has had enough of headaches for some time now.

One thing that has improved significantly is his appetite. He is now able to eat more and not get sick at the mere thought of food. To help his stomach settle after his erratic eating pattern followed by his sickness, small bowls of food are usually set around the rooms. Generally fruit or nuts, something healthy and filling. He can see an improvement as the days go on.

Severus is pleased with the progress. He even mentioned that, if this continues, he will be able to take Harry off of his nutrient potion before the start of next term.

The thought makes Harry glad and not just because that means that Severus will not have to brew it anymore for him. He has found himself... wanting his approval lately. It is another thing that has Harry worried. He wants to please Severus. To make him proud of him. And Regulus. He wants the same with him.

It scares him because how can he? He is nothing to be proud of. No one ever has before. How can he do it now? How can he be enough? He is still half convinced that there is something making them like him somehow. Some power forcing them to seem to care for him, no matter what Severus says. What else explains all of this? This is far beyond the call of a Professor. This is, well, what a parent would do. A real parent, not like the Dursleys. A parent with a child that they actually want.

It has him thinking of the adoption again. Can they, can they really mean it? Can they really want this? Want him? Why? It doesn't seem possible. Surely they would want someone better than him. Like Draco for example. He may be a prat, but he knows what he is doing. He has been raised in it. Why not adopt him? Make him the Black heir? He knows that they are related. And yes, he is already going to be Lord Malfoy when he reaches majority. Can someone be a Lord of two Houses? It can't be that complicated surely.

Draco is someone who won't embarrass them. Someone that they can be proud of. Even when he was a right arse to Harry, he knew that he wasn't completely irredeemable. Wasn't unloveable or a burden like Harry himself was.

Or if not Draco than someone else. Surely there must be better people out there for this. But still they continue to act as his parents, not just his Professors. It is just like at Grimmauld Place, if a bit more intense. Not as if they are proving anything, but as if they are even more focused on him.

Harry would have thought that it would be the opposite. They have other responsibilities here after all. To their students – teaching, grading homework, being Head of House, offering advice and guidance when needed, detentions, everything. And at the beginning of the year, that was true, it seemed. But now that he is living with them again, they spend a significant amount of time with him. Even if they aren't talking, just doing their respective work at the same table, they are still there.

He wonders if this is what having a family is supposed to feel like. He isn't entirely sure. All he knows comes from watching his Aunt and Uncle with his cousin. From listening to his friends stories, from his dorm mates talk. They all seem so very different from one another. How are you supposed to know which is the right one? If you belong or not.

But maybe there isn't only one way to be a family. Maybe there are multiple ways. And maybe, just maybe, this is one of them. Harry doesn't know for sure. He refuses to ask. But he hopes so anyways.

.

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Hope, though fragile, is hard to kill.

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Before Harry knows it, break has started and the majority of the students have gone home for the holidays. Of course there always those students that stay over, but for the most part, Hogwarts is now empty. Strangely enough, it makes her feel more alive than ever.

Harry is finally off of his bed rest and allowed to roam again. That doesn't stop his friends from hovering slightly to make sure he doesn't get sick again. Well, mostly. Each in their own way at least. The first day the twins drag them outside for an epic snowball fight. Harry has a blast with that. It is their usual group with Fred, George and Luna plus Longbottom and Draco this year. The whole thing is ridiculous, but he doesn't care. It feels good to be out and playing.

He is soaked through by time they calls it a tie and go back inside. There they are met with warm tea and blankets from a stern looking Severus. He fusses over them all, making sure that they are warm and dry. He tells them it is so that he doesn't get sick making potions for foolish dunderheads, but Harry doesn't believe him. He can claim all he wants that he doesn't fuss, he most certainly does. True, it looks different on him then on other people, but that doesn't make it any less true. Severus Snape fusses over people.

It is rather entertaining to watch. The others look anywhere from bemused to happy to cheeky about it, each by their own personality and how use to Severus they are. Longbottom, naturally, is the bemused, and slightly scared, one. The twins are as entertained as Harry is. Luna just obeys cheerfully while Draco subtly rolls his eyes about the whole thing.

He and Longbottom take advantage of the near empty library and spread out, digging through any book that might help them. Their notes are getting a bit ridiculous. Fortunately Regulus has shown them a handy spell that organizes them into what is essentially a notebook. Harry then introduced Longbottom to the joys of Muggle stationery – highlighters and stick it notes and such. All of them are being used liberally at this point. Their notes look like a rainbow got sick on them.

If it were not for the others, they might have camped out in there. But they aren't allowed. Everyone takes turns dragging them out for food and breaks. Harry suspects that there is a schedule between all of them. It is likely a good thing or the words might start swimming in front of Harry's eyes again. Too much stress was part of what triggered all of his problems the last time. He would rather not go through that again. Especially not so soon after the last time.

Still, for all that he is doing school work, there is something almost peaceful about it. Longbottom has none of Granger's frantic energy to do everything at once and so thoroughly that it is bleeding from all the questions. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. Now that Harry no longer has to deal with it, he has an easier time appreciating how dedicated she is. There is little doubt that she will succeed in anything she puts her mind to. That doesn't mean she isn't completely exhausting to work with.

It also helps that he no longer has to deal with the added stress of her broken expectations. Or her misunderstanding. It is a weight off of his shoulders. Working with Longbottom is much more relaxing. He has all of her passion with none of her whirl flies, as Luna insists on telling her. Constantly. It is likely a sign that she has probably been spending too much time with George and Fred, but oh well. It happens.

Even though Harry is better, he hasn't gone back to the dorms to sleep. Part of him keeps waiting for Severus and Regulus to tell him to go. That they want their quarters back. That they are tired of him invading their space. But that hasn't happened yet. They give no sign that they want him gone. So Harry stays and goes on as he has been.

He isn't in a hurry to leave although he knows he should. It wouldn't do for him to overstay his welcome. They might finally decide they have had enough then. But he can't seem to bring himself to. Something stops him each time. The hope that never seems to die for him. Every time he thinks that it is gone for good, it proves him wrong. It comes back, setting Harry up for failure all over again.

Which is why he watches and waits. He doesn't say anything about it, but nor does he take anything for granted. He's not ungrateful after all. Only ungrateful people take things for granted. They don't appreciate the things they have, always wanting more and more.

The Dursleys always liked to tell Harry he was an ungrateful Freak. Always taking up time and energy and resources that they could be using elsewhere. On more deserving people. Normal people, who weren't Freaks like him. Usually his cousin. His cousin was used as an example of someone worthy frequently. It never worked the way they wanted it to. Despite how much Harry wanted to be normal, be worthy of someone's love, he was always glad that he was nothing like Dudley. He never seemed like he was a good role model to look up to.

So Harry waits and watches, but they never say anything.

His days fall into a sort of pattern. He and Longbottom get up and study in the mornings until lunch. Then they are dragged away to eat either in the Great Hall or the kitchens, depending on what they feel like. In the afternoons, instead of going back to the library like they should, Harry is exiled from school work and told to play. The twins and Luna follow these instructions with glee. Draco is much more dignified about it, but that doesn't change the fact that he does the same. Longbottom is basically along for the ride at this point.

It hasn't escaped Harry's notice that the boy is slowly becoming a new part of their group. There is nothing said about it, no one ever sits down and makes a decision. But he is included more and more into their activities. He shares more and more of their jokes. He learns twin speak and Luna speak. He learns to ignore Draco if he is in a prissy mood. He relaxes more around them than before.

Harry finds, much to his surprise, that he doesn't mind. Not really. Hadn't he chosen Longbottom because he was the best of the Gryffindors in their year? The least stressful. Harry doesn't have to be constantly on his guard around him. He never laughs or pokes at him. Never sneers or makes cruel remarks. When Harry has bad days and doesn't want to get out of bed, he is right there with the others to support him.

And oh how Harry loathes those days. The days when everything is too much and too heavy and too everything. When the only safe place is his bed. And not even there because the thoughts in his head threaten to drown him. The world is a sea of grey and smoke. Why bother? What's the point?

He loathes those days with a passion. They had never been that bad before. Yes, sometimes – often if he is being honest – he wished that he didn't have to get up. Didn't have to face the world. But he always did. It never seemed like an impossible task then, only an unpleasant chore. Now it is almost as if the very world is weighing him down. Severus tells him that it is a symptom of his depression flaring up. Harry wishes he could pour some water on it and be done with it.

Those are the days he spends on the couch, curled up with his friends around him. The days that food is thick, warm soups and endless tea. They never act as if he is a bother when this happens, although surely he must. Surely they must see how weak he is. How pathetic. But they never say anything. They never even look like they want to. They are all there, whether he wants them or not – Longbottom included.

Then, in the evenings, after supper, he goes back to his – the – quarters to spend time with Severus and Regulus. Sometimes he studies. Sometimes they talk. It is not all Severus dragging up his past or dark thoughts. There are questions on how his day went and what he is thinking and if he is enjoying himself. Normal things like that. Regulus continues to talk to him about parseltongue. He even brings some books from the Black library for Harry to read. Severus has him help with potions.

They both begin to teach Harry how to play wizarding chess. He is absolutely terrible at it in the beginning. The games are very short and merciless. But they always explain to him what went wrong and how he can improve. Regulus and Severus play a game for him to observe and it is possibly one of the most fascinating things Harry has ever seen. For one thing, both are top strategists. For another thing, it is clear that they know each other very well. The game lasts for hours before Regulus finally wins by a move.

It makes him feel like so much as if he is a part of a family that he thinks he might burst. It makes him feel as if he belongs. Does he? Can he? Can he ever really belong anywhere? Is it possible for him? For the longest time, he would think not. He has never belonged anywhere before. Not with his relatives. Not with his House. Not with the other students. Nowhere. There was no place for a Freak like him. Now he wonders if he has finally found a place. If he can trust this. If it will last.

As always, he is at war with himself as he debates this. Part of him desperately wants to. Wants to trust this. Wants to keep this. Wants to finally have something that he can call his own. The other part is suspicious. Distrustful. How can he know this will last? That they won't get tired of him. That they will want to keep him and to treat him well. Not that he thinks they would ever go so far as to abuse him, but, well, what if he turns into that pair of shoes? The ones that you use to like but are now worn out or don't fit anymore. Who keeps those? If they aren't given away or thrown away, they are tossed into a corner and forgotten.

It exhausts Harry just thinking about it. He wishes he could just make up his mind. Then he could move on with it. But he doesn't know and he doesn't know how to find out either. How does one go about testing something like this? He could act out if he really wanted to know, but everything in him protests at the idea. He cringes at the mere thought. Test Severus and Regulus? Push their boundaries on purpose? He could, he knows he could, but it is so terrifying and so distasteful that he doesn't know if he could go through with it. Besides, he knows how terrifying they can be when angered. Can he handle that?

Something to keep in mind then, but not something to follow through with. Yet. Maybe if he becomes too desperate then he will. But for now he suffers his indecision in silence.

One surprise that takes place over the holidays is that Fawkes visits him. This isn't the first time he has seen the phoenix since his second year, but it's not as if there are frequent visits or anything like that. Harry wouldn't expect there to be. Fawkes is suppose to be Dumbledore's familiar after all, or so he has heard. And even if he isn't then surely he is attached to Dumbledore in some way.

So it was a bit of a shock to have Fawkes burst in on him one afternoon. It is right after lunch and they have moved to the Astronomy Tower to watch it snow. The others had been talking, but Harry wasn't really paying attention. He had been sitting on the edge, one leg dangling over, absently watching the snowflakes drift past. His mind had been too full and too empty all at once. The burst of flame startles him and before he knows it, Fawkes is standing in front of him, singing.

Harry can't help but smile at that. And yes, he knows that is what a phoenix song is for, to make you feel happy. Peaceful. Whole. But he can't help but feel that it is different for him. That, for once, being special isn't a bad thing. That he is worthy of a special song, just for him. Of course he knows that he is being foolish, but it doesn't stop the thoughts.

It is only after he stops singing and snuggles up – for lack of a better description – to Harry that he notices the others are watching him. There is an awed look in their eyes as they do. It makes him duck his head so that they cannot see his face. They shouldn't be looking at him like that. As if he is something worthy of that. He isn't. He never was and he never will be. After an awkward pause, they go back to pretending like nothing unusual is happening.

Fawkes is a rather frequent visitor after that. He keeps popping up and joining Harry in whatever he is doing. He never seems bothered if Harry pays him any mind or not. He simply seems to enjoy being around him. It's odd.

It also has Regulus joking about him choosing a career in Magical Creatures. "They certainly seem to like you enough."

Harry makes a face at him. It isn't his fault that he seems to attract the oddities – first Fawkes, then the Thestrals and the unicorns. Maybe even the Basilisk if he wants to go that far. None of those are his fault. There is no need to mock him about it.

But Regulus just smiles. "Think about it. There are plenty of jobs that would love to have someone with a natural talent for creatures. It wouldn't even matter if you didn't have an OWL in it. There is always an independent study option. And some of the jobs that are available for parselmouths overlap in any case."

Harry just nods. It would be... different, that's for sure. And maybe not even a bad different at that.

Overall, it is one of the best Christmases – one of the best breaks – he has ever had. Everyone likes their gifts, which is a relief, especially Draco, Severus and Regulus. They are the hardest to shop for. But now he knows what to get the twins and Luna. And for Longbottom, he goes for the obvious, but also obviously appreciated, gift of Herbology. It is rather hard to go wrong there.

Longbottom surprises him as well, having given him some candles. Each comes with a card explaining what they are suppose to be for – sleep, calming thoughts, energy. Things like that. Not something he was expecting, but considering that Longbottom is the expert, he'll take his word for it that they work.

Before Harry knows it, break is over and a new term is about to begin.

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Rage. Rage against the dying light.

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.

It is odd, being back in classes again. Being at a desk, listening to his Professor's lecture, just being a normal student. Or as normal as he can get anyways. There is a definite adjustment period to it. Both Regulus and Severus have a different way of teaching when they only have one student to teach. It is more discussion than lecture and then a practical. Yes, he was getting most of his information from a book, but they also made sure that he always understood what he was reading.

It was both intimidating – to have all of their focus wholly on him – and informative – less pressure to complete the spell as quickly as possible and more time to fully understand it all. A different teaching method to be sure, but Harry thinks that he might like it better than the traditional way. Not that he could see it going well with a regular class. And not that he thinks it would work with every Professor and every class. But still, for all that he hates being signaled out, Harry enjoyed it.

Now he is back to taking notes and keeping his head down. And yes, he knows that his Professors will answer a question if he asks, but he won't. Not in front of everyone. And not when he thinks that it might be a stupid question. Or a waste of their time. Not when everyone can stare and judge.

Some adults might say there is no such thing as a stupid question, but Harry knows that there is. Severus has confirmed this as well. Sure, some of that might be because he has so little patience sometimes, but not all. He has heard some questions that are enough to make even him cringe, let alone his Professors.

Besides, if he truly cannot figure it out, he knows that either Regulus or Severus will be willing to help him. He still spends part of his evenings with them, even if he is back to sleeping in the dorms.

He surprises himself to find just how much he misses their quarters. He didn't realize just how safe he felt there until he left them. There he knew that nothing would happen to him. They wouldn't let it. But outside their rooms – in the halls and classes and dorms – it is another story. He never knows when someone is going to have a problem with him again. How they are going to act on that problem.

Nowhere is safe. Not even in the common room. Too many enemies there. It is funny, in a way. One of the places he should feel the safest and he feels as if he is in the most danger. The danger always seems to vary from year to year, but it is always the same. He is never welcomed there. Not really. The best he can hope for is to be ignored, not taunted or hurt.

Fortunately for him, right now they have collectively decided to ignore him. That is fine with Harry. He is use to being alone.

Though, he should say they mostly decide to leave him alone. Draco is still talking to him. Or sometimes just sitting with him, neither of them saying a thing. They might study or they might silently watch the fire, but they don't always talk.

Zabini is also back to talking at Harry. At because Harry has stopped responding to him. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He is tired of it. So he hopes that if he doesn't respond, than he will get bored. He used the same tactics on Dudley and his gang when he was younger. And on all those kids who decided to laugh at him for whatever reason. That is an important lesson he has learned. If you don't give a bully what they want, then eventually they will get bored. Or most of them will. Sometimes there are those who don't care. They take pleasure in it, no matter what you do.

One thing he has found though, that he can escape that problem by sitting with Nott. He never minds, tolerating Harry more than the rest of his Housemates. He never glares or silently threatens. That doesn't mean he is overly welcoming or enthusiastic, but Harry doesn't need that. He needs some peace to work.

He's never noticed this before, but he is fairly sure that Zabini is afraid of Nott. Not cautious or wary but actually afraid of him. There is something in his eyes sometimes. A quick flash before he covers it up again. Harry only saw it a few times and it took awhile for him to realize what it was. He wonders what Nott did to him to deserve that look.

Still Nott never troubles Harry any. He always nods to him before going back to his books whenever he sits down at his table. It helps him relax some. Not because he thinks that Nott will defend him, but he knows that he will defend himself. If there is a chance that he will get caught in the crossfire, Nott will fight back. And Harry has a strong hunch that Nott is a vicious fighter when he wants to be. It makes him glad that he has never been an enemy, just a disinterested bystander.

"Alright Potter?" he had asked that first day of term when Harry sat next to him.

Harry nodded as he arranged his books.

"Good. Don't let those idiots get to you. Most can't tell their arse from their head." His tone is matter of fact before he returns his attention back to his own work.

That makes Harry smirk. Nott isn't exactly wrong. Some of their Housemates aren't exactly the brightest. Nor are some of their classmates for that matter. They could make a flobberworm look like a genius.

Another thing that Harry finds funny, in a bitter sort of way, is the way his Housemates have taken the news of his names. With the way everyone was assuming that he was Voldemort's soulmate, it would seem a safe assumption to make that he would be more popular. After all, Voldemort may be dead, but his ideals and ideas are not. He still has supporters out there. As his soulmate, he should have been accepted by them. But he wasn't. Either because they didn't believe it or because they just do not like him, he isn't sure. But it hardly matters when they acted as if they hated him just as much as everyone else.

With this new term brought the next step of Harry and Longbottom's DADA project. They are officially beginning to brew. Severus has given them a schedule of when they are able to come and brew in the classroom. As they work, he sits at his desk and grades, scowling darkly at the essays as he does.

It doesn't go quite as planned honestly. Yes Harry knew this was going to be tough. He knew it was going to be work. Quite a bit of work. But even with all the research and reading they did before, he still managed to underestimate just how much work it will be.

Their first couple of times are a complete disaster. Nothing explodes fortunately, but it is a close call. That takes them right back to the books to see what went wrong. It also shows Harry that they need a comprehensive study of what ingredients will react with what. He buries himself in potion books, beginning to put together some kind of chart they can use.

Well, he says buries, but not literally. For one, his schedule is still being managed to make sure he does not get too overwhelmed again. Harry is fairly sure that Severus and Regulus recruited his friends to help with that. He is never left alone for too long before they come for him. For another, he still has other class work he needs to complete. The OWLs are looming even closer now and no one will let them forget it.

One weight off of his mind is his and Granger's Transfiguration project. They received an EE for their efforts. He can tell Granger is disappointed that it isn't an O, but Harry is just relieved. He didn't fail it. He didn't ruin his Transfiguration grade for the year. Regulus smiled when he told him and Severus gave him an approving nod. Their work was solid and well thought out and well explained. Any more work to get it up to an O and Harry might have gone mad.

Fawkes is still visiting Harry as well. He had thought that would end once classes started again, but no. He still pops up from time to time, making Harry relax as he studies or sits in his Professor's quarters at night. He is the one thing that makes it bearable when Severus insists on having their talks, as Harry refers to them. He refuses to think of it as therapy. Therapy is for people that are crazy. He's not crazy. He's not. Crazy people go to the asylum where they do all kinds of painful experiments on you. His Uncle told him that when he was young. Threatened really. It scared Harry back then, although he never showed it.

So he's not crazy and it isn't therapy of any kind. That doesn't make it anymore pleasant. Dragging up his past never is. Nor is talking about the dark thoughts in his head. It is downright painful some days. Fawkes' presence helps him when nothing else can. So he still doesn't know why he visits, but he is grateful for it anyways.

Then one day not long after term starts, he gets another surprise – a note from Hagrid with a request to visit him after classes. It is delivered along with the rest of the morning mail and Harry has to keep the shock from his face. Hagrid wants to talk to him? Why? What could he possibly want?

He remembers how friendly – overly friendly maybe, but open and kind – he had been when he first delivered Harry's letter. He remembers how wary he was in the years after, when he was Sorted into Slytherin. Yes, he was the one who brought him back from the Forbidden Forest, but this can't be about that surely. It wasn't as if he could have been worried about him. He is a slimy snake after all. Voldemort's soulmate. Why would he worry?

But what else could it possibly be about? It's not as if he takes his class or anything. Does he want to yell at Harry? Not that he seems the type for that either. So why?

It makes his stomach cramp just thinking about it. It sticks in his mind all through the rest of the day. He pays attention in class, but just barely. It is almost ridiculous, how nervous he is about this. But nothing good generally comes from adults wanting to talk to him. Quite the opposite in fact. All it means is trouble of some kind.

So when class is over, he goes back to the dorm and changes into warm clothes to go outside. There is a light snowfall on the ground now. Nothing bad yet, but it will. Give it time and it always will. They have several snowstorms a winter here. Still right now it is mild compared to what it will be. His breath puffs out in front of him as he walks. It looks like a dragon's breath.

Snow crunches under his feet as he makes his way to Hagrid's hut. He hears the barking before he gets there and sees Fang running up to greet him. Harry keeps his footing as Fang – rather enthusiastically – says hello. Fortunately he doesn't lick Harry, so it doesn't freeze on him. But he bounds right up to him and tries to snuggle up.

Harry can't help but laugh as he pets him. Regulus better not find out about this or the teasing will get even worse. He means well of course. And Harry isn't truly hurt by it. But he would rather not give him any more fuel to add to the fire. He is actually at least half serious as he jokes about Harry being a 'creature tamer', as he puts it.

"Fang, no," Hagrid says as he comes outside, "down ye silly brute. Don go knocking him over now."

Fang obeys with a whine, dropping down and looking pitiful about it.

"Ello Arry," he greets.

"Hello," he says cautiously, watching. He doesn't look angry now, but that can change quickly enough. Moods can be as changeable as the tide with some people.

"Thanks fer coming down, I know yer probably busy, what with this being a big year and all. But I wanted ta show you something that I think ye will like. Follow me." With that he starts off towards the Forbidden Forest.

Harry walks beside him, watching him from the corner of his eye. Just in case. Fang trots happily at his side, tongue hanging out. His head bumps against Harry's hand as they walk. He takes the hint and scratches his ears. Fang pants happily at that.

They stop at the edge of the Forest. Hagrid holds out a hand and Harry tenses, braced. But Hagrid points to a specific clump of trees. If he saw his flinch, then he doesn't show it. "Look there," he says.

Harry obeys, squinting. At first he doesn't see anything besides the trees. There is nothing there. But as he waits, he sees a flash of white. Then, before he can process what he is seeing, three unicorns step into sight. And not just any three unicorns, but his unicorns. The ones who brought him back that day.

"They've been hanging around recently. I spect they've been looking for ye," Hagrid tells him, "No other reason for them to be this close. Unicorns are shy creatures ye know. Don like being around people much. There's exceptions course and it looks like yer one. Go on and say ello then."

Harry looks at Hagrid for a long moment, assessing. Making sure that he is serious. That this isn't some kind of trap. Then he walks forward, towards the trees. The three unicorns come out to greet him. They look warily at Hagrid and Fang, as if they are assessing them too. Then they dismiss them, nuzzling Harry all over.

He laughs at that, feeling their fur against the skin of his face, his hands, anywhere there is skin. Anywhere they can reach really. It tickles. A grin threatens to take over his face. For once, he doesn't fight it. He doesn't need to. He already knows that he is safe here. Instinctively he knows his unicorns won't let anything happen to him.

With playful shoves and laughing whinnies, they coax him into running around with them. It is not unlike the time he and Luna played with the Thestrals. He can't help but laugh again. There is just something about playing with them that is freeing. As if everything else matters less when they are around.

Alright, so maybe Regulus has a point about him. Not that he is going to tell him that. He'll be positively insufferable if he does.

He loses track of time as he moves and laughs and plays. It is only when Hagrid calls his name again that he realizes that he can no longer feel his nose. Regretfully he waves to signal that he heard and says goodbye to them. He doesn't want to leave, but he knows that he has to. Who knows if he will ever see them again. It was a surprise enough that he saw them this time. It is likely that now that they have seen him safe they will leave him alone.

"Thought ye might like to see em again," Hagrid says as he walks them back to the castle, "They've certainly been watching ye when ye've been out playing with yer friends. Interesting that it's those three that have adopted ye, specially the two males. They're twins ye know. Gave they're Ma a fair bit of trouble when they were born. Twins are rare in unicorns. Most of time, if yer not careful, they won't make it."

Harry listen and Harry aches. Twins. A set of male twins and a girl unicorn. Those are the three that adopted him. He doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't think that he can. Merlin what is his life anymore? A bloody mess, that's what. A bloody mess with some bloody wonderful pit stops along the way. Incredible.

Hagrid and Fang drop him off at the doors. "Feel free to come back and visit em. I can watch so ye don get into any trouble with anyone." With that, he walks away, not looking back.

Harry stares after him for a long moment, processing everything before he goes back inside the castle to get some work done. He finds that he is humming as he goes, but he doesn't stop. Today is a good day.

It is the next day at breakfast that he is reminded that, once again, nothing in his life is sacred. Or private. The public must feel as if they are entitled to everything in his life. Once again, as he eats, he feels eyes on him, growing more intense as every second passes.

Draco passes him the Daily Prophet and Harry can feel his stomach automatically begin to knot. But he sees that it is both better and worse than he thought it would be. It is certainly a change, that is for sure. There, in bold color, is a picture of Harry playing with the three unicorns. As he skims the article, he finds that it is a complete flip from what he has been so recently accused of. Instead of being Voldemort's soulmate, the newest incarnation of evil, he is a young and misunderstood boy. One who has endured the world's scorn and yet still has a pure soul. Because obviously no one who is so clearly loved by unicorns can be evil. They are too sensitive to deal with anything Dark.

That is why Muggles think that they are attracted to virgins – purity. But it is not purity of the body that they are attracted to. It is purity of the soul.

He knew Hagrid said that they had good judgment before, but this? This is so much more than that. This claiming that this is proof, once and for all, that there is absolutely nothing Dark about him. There can't be. The unicorns wouldn't come anywhere near him if it were true. Proof that he isn't evil or destined to be the next Dark Lord or any of the things that he has been accused of recently.

If it is true, that is. If this isn't another pitch to make him into something that he is not. Another way to pin new expectations onto him. Or dust off the old ones, calling him their hero again. He glances at the others to see if they have anything to say.

Zabini is smirking at him, clearly entertained by this.

Draco nods. "For once the paper is right. Unicorns cannot abide anything Dark. It goes against their very nature. If they like you, then it is a rare thing that people treasure as long as they can. It is seen as a great honor. There is even such a thing as a unicorn blessing. That is seen as the greatest honor although no one is really sure what it is."

Harry stares at him. Merlin, he is serious. This... this is real. People actually consider unicorns that good a judge of character that they are willing to drop weeks of hate and scorn to love him again. Just like that. Though then again, he shouldn't be surprised. The public has always been pretty fickle when it comes to him. They are like sheep, in that regard. Easily led. Why should this time be any different? Clearly it's not.

But as much as this newest article helps him, he can't help but feel annoyed by it. For one thing, why are people taking photos of him in the first place? What business of it is theirs, what he does with his time? None that's what. Nosiness is what started this mess to begin with. People not leaving well enough alone and invading his privacy. For another thing, this is all likely to change again, the next time someone comes forward with 'proof' that Harry is going Dark. Something will happen to convince people sooner or later. It always does. And then they will hate him again. For a third thing, why wouldn't people just leave him alone for once and for all?

He sighs and takes another bite of eggs. He knows that he should be used to this by now. But he isn't, not really. He's beginning to think that he never will be.

That's just life after all.

.

.

Life, in the end, is an ordinary thing. There are long stretches of boredom and routine in between all of the big events. Good or bad, life is filled with the small things. It is only because the because the big stuff take up so much room in our head that we think they are more than they are. The excitement, the tragedy, the laughter and tears, they are enough to drown the less memorable things out. It is the small things in life that count the most.

.

.

That's just life and life damn well can jump off a bloody cliff Harry decides.

Things are not going well. School is not going well. Studying is not going well. His DADA project is not going well. His sleep is not going well. His head space is not going well. Nothing is going well.

As time comes closer and closer to the end of the year, Harry can feel the edges of darkness creeping back in. Panic tries to choke him, cutting off his air. Thoughts of failure and disappointment haunt both his nights and his days. Some days it threatens to drown him beneath its pitch black waves, never to see the light again.

Basically he is becoming stressed out of his mind and nothing else is helping with that stress. Not his friends. Not Severus and Regulus. Not the unicorns or Thestrals or Fawkes. Nothing. Sometimes all he can see is a giant countdown until the end of the year, when it will all come to an end. It doesn't help that no one will be quiet about the OWLs. Or the NEWTs, if they are seventh years. Apparently they are even worse than the OWLs. It's hardly reassuring, that.

Regulus has taken to telling him that parseltongue needs not a degree to use correctly. It's not something you can learn. Either you speak it or you don't. Everything else is just extra. And if he does decide to accept the adoption, he needs no degree to become Lord Black either. So those are two paths he could choose that aren't riding on the OWLs. Plus his creatures will love him no matter what he scores.

Nor, if he decides to work with the twins, will they care about that. They are remarkably relaxed about their NEWTs. They just might be the calmest people out of both age groups. Then again, they have never been ones to take school seriously. They're brilliant, there is no doubt about that – well there isn't if one actually pays attention to them and not just their jokes – but school has never really been their thing. They have their eyes on bigger things. Bigger and non traditional things.

He has taken to studying with both Longbottom and Nott. Longbottom because yes, while he is freaking out as much as the others, he does so quietly. No frantic pacing or flailing – unlike some he could name. Draco among them. Draco does not worry quietly. Nott because he is not panicking at all. He is calm, cool and collected. Harry can still minorly relax around him. That is something he desperately needs at this point.

As the weeks and months draw closer, Harry can feel himself tense more and more. Soon, if something does not happen, he is either going to snap or fly off the handle. Neither is something that he wants to happen. Messy.

Severus has him drinking a special tea every night before he goes to bed just so he can sleep some. Not a potion because that isn't going to be good for him at this point. But it helps him relax a bit and calm his thoughts down. Sometimes it keeps the nightmares away. Sometimes it isn't enough.

At this point, he is either on the edge of crying or laughing hysterically. He tries not to do either mainly because he isn't sure he will be able to stop once he starts. And if his and Longbottom's potion doesn't start to improve soon, he is going to scream. That he most definitely isn't going to be able to stop if he starts.

Something keeps going wrong with it and neither of them are sure what. It's not as if it is exploding or anything. It is just... useless. Worthless. Not unlike Harry himself, especially now. Both have exactly no purpose except to waste valuable time and resources. One good thing is that his comprehensive notes are done and more useful than he had expected. Longbottom seems especially impressed by it. But that is the only good thing about the whole thing.

At this rate, how is he suppose to survive until the end of the year?

.

.

Pressure, just like the tide, ebbs and flows with time. It can build, slowly and surely, or it can come rushing in at once. But always remember, like the tide, it will always retreat eventually again.

.

.

It comes to Harry in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping. He had woken up, gasping, from a dream of Dementors chasing him, trying to Kiss him. Because of course he is dreaming of that. It is practically unavoidable at this point. He had been desperately trying to cast a Patronus, but of course he couldn't. He can't, not even in dreams. They had surrounded him.

But then he had dropped his wand, waved a hand and suddenly, as the way dreams go, he wasn't alone. His unicorns were there with him. They pushed him in between them and neighed in challenge at the Dementors. And miraculously the Dementors fled from them. His unicorns protected him.

Thinking on that, he smacks himself on the head and climbs out of bed. Quickly grabbing the books he needs from his pile, he goes out to the common room where he can read in peace. He climbs into one of the window seats that looks into the lake and begins to read. Fortunately he has this book with him. Ironically enough it wasn't for DADA either, but because Regulus had given it to him.

He is still reading when his Housemates begin to wake up and get ready for breakfast. He is practically bouncing in his seat. This could work. This could be the break they have been looking for. The exact thing they need. Well, things technically, but Harry knows that he can get both easily enough. Because, yes, he is obviously a 'creature tamer'. This would be almost impossible without that. Maybe, just this once, he will catch a break.

Lessons are a torture. He can hardly concentrate and it shows. None of his Professors are very impressed with him, although fortunately none give him detention. It's not as if he isn't trying to pay attention. He really is. But he can't help but keep going back to his potion idea, discarding that and revising this. Drafting several tests and combinations they can try to see if it will work.

At the end of classes, Harry flies out of the door and races so that he can get his supplies and meet up with Longbottom right away. First he goes outside, to his usual spot where he meets the – his – unicorns. After all this time, he can't help but think of them as his. He can't help himself. They don't seem to mind though. In fact, they seem to like it quite a bit.

As always, they are waiting for him. It is almost as if they know when he needs them. "Hello," he greets, slightly out of breath from running, "can I have some of your hair?" he blurts out gracelessly, "If you wouldn't mind that is. You see, I'm trying to make a potion to protect people from Dementors. And people are always saying about how sensitive you are to anything Dark. And how you're supposed to be one of the purist creatures there are. We have been trying to find something powerful enough to battle a Dementor's depression and I think you might be a key to help with that." He explains all of this quickly, almost tripping over his words.

He is both too excited and too nervous to slow down. He's not sure how much they understand him, but they always respond when he talks to them, so there is no harm in trying. And he wouldn't dare do anything without telling them why in any case. That is both rude and stupid.

They seem to confer with each other before they all approach him. Harry grins and pulls a brush out of his bag. Carefully he combs their manes and tails, gathering all the loose hair they have. When he is done he seals it all in a bag he took just for this purpose. "Thank you so much," he says, hugging them all and running off, "I'll let you know how it goes," he calls over his shoulder. One down, one more to go.

Fortunately he doesn't have to go far either. Fawkes is waiting for him as he passes a row of empty classrooms. "Hello Fawkes," he says.

Fawkes trills at him.

"Um, listen, do you think that maybe I could have some of your tears? For a research potion," he quickly explains once again what he is doing and why he thinks he needs phoenix tears to make it work.

Fawkes trills at him again.

Harry pulls out a vital and he cries into it. When it is full, he carefully caps it and puts it into his bag. Elevated, he hugs Fawkes too, with a quick "Thanks, you're the best" before he is running off to Gryffindor Tower to get Longbottom. Today isn't a day that they planned to work together, but Harry doubts he will mind once he learns of Harry's idea. It's the best thing they have to go on so far.

Of course he knows exactly where the Tower is. Between the twins and the Marauders Map how could he not? So he approaches their portrait, the Fat Lady, with only a bit of nervousness about coming this close to the lion's den. "Hello," he greets.

"Hello Sweetie. What is the password?" she asks, obviously not noticing the color of his tie.

Harry shakes his head. "Wrong House ma'am. I was wondering if you could pass on a message for me? I need to talk to Neville Longbottom – for a school project," he adds.

"Oh ma'am," she says. If she was able to blush, she would have, "my aren't you a polite one then. You wait right here then and I'll see what I can do." She disappears from her frame.

Harry waits, shifting from one foot to another. Before long, she is back and then her portrait opens. Longbottom steps out. "Potter? Oh, I didn't forget to meet up with you did I?" he asks in concern.

Harry shakes his head. "I have an idea," he says excitedly.

Longbottom's eyes light up. "Wait here, I'll go grab my things then." He closes the portrait, disappearing from view.

"Thank you very much ma'am," he says.

"Oh you're very welcome. It's always nice to see such a polite young man, no matter his House."

Harry is saved from having to respond to that by Longbottom appearing again. "Let's go to the lab then."

Harry nods and off they go. He doesn't say anything until they are in the room, door closed. Severus isn't there, but seeing as how they aren't going to be brewing right now, that is fine. Quickly he explains the thought he had, trying to fully articulate why he thinks it is a good idea.

"So you think phoenix tears because they are essentially the most powerful healing liquid there is," Longbottom summarizes, "And unicorn hair because of their purity and their infinity for the Light."

Harry nods. "So?" he asks, suddenly nervous again. What if this ends up being a stupid idea? He would hate to waste their time and resources just for this to be a disaster. Just because he thinks it is a good idea doesn't mean it is. He got his inspiration from a dream for Merlin's sake. That isn't exactly very confidence inspiring is it? What if-

"I think it's brilliant," Longbottom says excitedly, "I can't believe we didn't think of this before. Potter, you're a genius!"

Harry blushes. Genius? He certainly wouldn't go that far. Still, this is a new place to start.

They pull out their notes and begin to work.

.

.

Inspiration, when it strikes, is something akin to being stroke by lightening.

.

.

It still takes them another three weeks to produce anything they think might be successful. But unlike the other long, unsuccessful months before this, these three weeks seem to fly by. They are now spending all of their time that they can get away with in the potions lab.

Severus had raised an eyebrow when Harry had told him of this latest development, but said nothing. He took that as a good sign. He may not be allowed to offer advice, but he has a way of steering them clear of anything too potentially disastrous.

But three weeks later and they have something that can be tested. They bottle it up and go see if Professor Graham has any advice on how to do so. In fact he does, being an Auror. He promises to take good care of it and show them the pensieve memory of it when it is done. There is nothing more they can do but wait.

A nerve wrecking three days later and Professor Graham returns with their results. The potion is a success – mostly. It does what it needs to do, but it also needs to be stronger. Still, even with it being as weak as it is, the Department of Law Enforcement was already interested in it.

Harry and Longbottom look at each other in surprise. One thing to hear that they might be. Another thing to be told that they already are.

It takes two more tests and one more week before they have something that works and works well. Professor Graham comes back from the test beaming at both of them. Harry can hardly believe it. They did it. They actually did it.

They actually did it.

"I want to congratulate the both of you," Professor Graham says, still beaming at them, "This is no little thing, making a new potion. And at fifteen years old at that. Mark my word boys, this is going to make your future right here. You will be hailed as proteges. I can already tell you Head Auror Scrimgeour has already said that he will be willing to negotiate with you for either brewing rights or to purchase it from you once you have everything sorted out."

Harry and Longbottom share another look. What?

"Take some time and think about it. Clean up your notes, write up your report and turn it in. I'd recommend discussing this with Professor Snape. He is our resident Potions Master after all. I am sure he can give you sound advice on the matter."

"Yes Sir," both Harry and Longbottom say before leaving the room.

Harry feels as if he is in a daze. They did it. Merlin, he can hardly believe it.

"Well why don't the two of you look like the kneazle that got the canary,"

"And then found out it was still alive afterwards."

Fred and George come up to them and carelessly throw an arm around either of Harry's shoulders.

Longbottom holds up their vital. "We did it!" he tells them, grinning from ear to ear.

"You did?"

"Congratulations then!"

"Our little Lord and his faithful minion,"

"Taking over the world, one potion at a time."

"We are so proud."

They pick both of them up and pull them into an overly enthusiastic hug.

Harry can't help but hug them back. A giggle escapes him and he lets it. Merlin, it's done. Over. Complete. No more experimenting. No more frantic reading. All they need to do is some compiling and some editing and they are done. Even better yet, this means they no longer have to do either their potions OWL or their herbology OWL. They've already passed with this! Two more things he no longer has to worry about.

"Time to celebrate."

"Yes, let us feast and make merry on this joyous occasion."

Needless to say they do not get any more work done that day. None of them do. Once Luna and Draco hear, they gladly abandon their homework and join in. They gather in one of the unused classrooms and laugh and eat and joke for the rest of the night until curfew.

True to his promise, he tells both Fawkes and his unicorns about their success the next day. Of course none of them can speak, but they all act happy for him. Maybe they are simply picking up his mood, but he doesn't think so.

He also talks to Severus about what to do next.

He sits both of them down and explains, "As of right now, both of you two are the only ones who know how to make this potion. Once everything is in order and sent to the correct people, you will own the rights to it. This means you are the only ones who will be legally allowed to brew it. Should you wish to do so, you can sell brewing rights to either certain people or give it up entirely and allow anyone to brew it.

"Should you decide only a few people may brew it, they will have to pay you for the right to have the recipe. It is still your potion, but they are allowed to use it. Legally only you two and said brewer are allowed to make it. Should you give up brewing rights, anyone may use it as they please. That means legally anyone may make it. Understand?"

Both of them nod.

"Now when choosing what to do, it depends a great deal on what you wish done with it. Do you wish to make money on it? Do you wish to spread the knowledge of it? Do you wish to brew it anymore now that you have perfected it? All of these questions factor into your decision.

"Understand that even if you give up brewing rights, you will not be giving up the fame of it. It will still be known as your potion. The two of you are the creators of it. No one can take that away from you. And rest assured that there will be quite a bit of fame coming from this. Making a potion is no small feat. It is one of the requirements of completing a Mastery in potions. And seeing as you both know how many – or how few rather – Potion Masters there are out there comparatively to other professions, you may assume how difficult this feat is.

"Do not rush into this decision. If you wish to keep the brewing rights for now, you may always change that later. But once you sell them, there is no getting it back. Yes?"

Both of them nod again.

"Another thing to keep in mind specifically is the availability of your ingredients. Both phoenix tears and unicorn hair are rare – and expensive – ingredients. They are not easy to obtain if your last name is not Potter." Severus looks at him pointedly.

Harry blushes at his teasing. Yes he knows he has an odd following of creatures. True to his prediction, Regulus enjoys joking about it. He seems delighted in it and Harry can see how he is related to his godfather now. Both of them joke the same way when they let themselves.

"Indeed. This would factor into the price of brewing rights and how useful it will be to others who may not be able to afford these ingredients. Should you brew it yourselves then it's availability would increase rather than be limited by other factors. The fact that the Ministry is interested means that you may set the price how you wish and distribute it to them without a third party complicating matters more. Otherwise whoever you allow to brew it will have to find their own source for rare ingredients. Are you still following?"

"Yes Sir," Harry reassures him.

"Very good. Now Potter, this is also something for you personally to consider. I am aware of a certain amount of research you put into this – mainly your comprehensive study of all potion ingredients and how they interact with each other. This is a valuable resource as you have no doubt realized. Nor is there another resource out there that is quite as detailed and user friendly. If you so wished so, you could turn this into a text book for the masses to use.

"And Mr Longbottom, should you have contributed, or have your own similar version for herbology then I offer you the same advice. Books such as this are not written very often. Both of them are sure to be rather popular and useful to the dunderheads that cannot tell dragon's blood from a bat's wing." He scowls.

Harry snorts at that, wholly amused. It is just so very Severus that he simply cannot help it. It also distracts him from the shock of his suggestion. A book? Severus thinks that, on top of everything, he would be able to publish a book as well? This just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

It grows even more when their potion is submitted to the Potions Guild for their approval. Word gets out and not only do they have the professionals excited, they have the public following along as well. They make the front page of the Daily Prophet for three days running. There are numerous requests for them – everything from interviews to questions to straight up fan mail.

It is overwhelming to say the least. Never has he ever received this much positive attention before. It is down right unnerving. He doesn't know what to do with it all. People as a rule don't like him. They don't praise him. They don't think he is worth the time or the effort or anything. He is use to being the Freak. Now... now he isn't. Now they are finally saying he is worth something. He doesn't know what to do with that.

Add to everything that while they have completed two classes, they still have their other classes and OWLs to prepare for. It is enough to make Harry wish he could clone himself to be able to get everything done. There is still a month left before they take their OWLs and they need all the extra time they can get.

Talking it over, both Harry and Longbottom – now Neville because he finally asked after all this time to be on first name basis with him – agree to brew the potion for now. It makes more sense because Severus is right. Both phoenix tears and unicorn hair are rare if you can't get them as easily as Harry can. And they want their potion to be able to be useful. Harry also tentatively mentions that he would like to give brewing rights to Severus, as a thank you for all he has done for Harry.

Neville smiles at that, but doesn't say anything beyond agreeing that it is fine with him.

They also make the decision to publish their notes into books. Harry's is all but finished, with only some finishing touches needed, but Neville's needs more work. His wasn't as originally as detailed as Harry's. But Harry is fine with waiting. More than fine, what with how busy they are right now. So they decide to publish them as companion books over the summer.

Thus they are kept busy right up until testing begins. All of them are. The tension in the school rises as the days grow closer. People become more irritable. More prone to hysterics and emotional outbursts. Tempers become frayed and patience runs thin. It is a nightmare in and of itself without Harry's actual nightmares adding to it all.

The only calm people in the entire school seem to be the twins and Luna. Well, and Nott as well, but seeing as he is always calm that is no real surprise there. Everyone else is running around in a panic. The three of them take it upon themselves to make sure that the other three do not lose their heads – or their sanity – before the school year is done. Although Harry thinks it might be too late for his sanity. Far too late. Years in fact.

Still the dreaded week arrives whether they are ready for it or not. And Harry most certainly does not feel ready. Sick? Yes. Panicked as bloody hell? Most definitely. Prepared in the slightest? Not at all. All the hours of studying and reading seem like a poor effort now that it is here.

No matter though. Time to finish this once and for all.

Harry is exhausted by the end of it. He feels like a puddle of goo. Automatically his feet carry him to Regulus and Severus' quarters where he climbs into the bed he claimed last term as his and falls straight asleep. He stays that way for ten hours before he wakes up again, if not fully rested then at least feeling human again.

And with that, the school year is done. Now all that is left to do is wait for his results. And finish up his book for publication. Too bad that isn't the end of everything. Not quite yet anyways.

.

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Likewise, fame can have a similar affect. Both are rather stunning when you are not expecting it.

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"Harry my boy, thank you for coming to see me." Dumbledore smiles kindly at him. "Lemon drop?"

Harry shakes his head. Thank you for coming? Right, as if he really had a choice in the matter. When one receives a summons from the Headmaster, it is not a suggestion to consider but a command to obey. And why does he insist on 'my boy'? Harry is no one's boy. And even if he is, he certainly isn't the Headmaster's, that's for certain.

"Suit yourself then. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable."

Harry obeys.

"Good then. My you have had a busy school year, have you not?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkle at him as he speaks. It makes Harry terribly uneasy. "Congratulations are certainly in order. I am sure that you are tired of hearing this my now, but it really is quite a remarkable thing. Why, you might even end up giving Severus a run for his money hmm?"

Harry smiles at that, but it feels fake to him. Stretched too thin over unwilling lips. "Thank you Sir," he says, hoping that they can move on now.

"I am sure you are wondering why I asked you here. Rest assured that you are not in any trouble. I simply wished to know where you plan to stay for your summer. Of course you really should be returned to your relatives. I understand why that was not possible last year, but now it should be."

Harry can feel himself go pale at that. Suddenly he feels very lightheaded. As if the world has picked up speed around him. If Dumbledore notices this, he gives no sign, continuing on.

"However I am aware that you have had another offer for new legal guardians. Or even adoption as I have heard. Yes, I am sure that both Severus and Regulus would be glad to have such a bright boy. But I wanted to make sure that you are aware of all of your options before you come to a decision."

That sounds ominous. It does nothing to settle his nerves, only make them worse. "Sir?" he asks.

But before he can get an answer, Dumbledore's fireplace flares and out walks Black. "Hello Albus," he greets happily, "you wanted to see me?"

Harry's stomach drops. This is not good. In fact, this is a disaster in the making right here. Bad, so very very bad. His breath catches in his throat. He barely notices Lupin arrive behind him.

"Yes indeed my boy. I was just beginning to tell Harry about this, so your timing is excellent."

Black turns and beams at him. "Harry! Hi pup, how are you doing? Survived the tests alright? Merlin I hated those things." He comes over and pulls Harry into a hug. Harry is too frozen to respond, but Black doesn't seem to mind if he even notices at all.

Lupin smiles at him but does not approach. He takes a seat in the last available chair away from Harry, leaving room for Black to sit next to him. Which is exactly what he does. He takes the chair next to him, grinning happily.

"Now as I was saying," Dumbledore continues, "I wanted to make sure that you knew all of the options available to you before you made any decisions." The twinkling increases.

Harry wants to yell at him to be quiet. To stop talking. To not even suggest it where Black can hear it. Because once he does, it will make everything all the worse. But he doesn't say anything. He can't. His voice is stuck in his throat with no way to escape in time.

"As you know, Sirius is your godfather. He was the person your parents chose to raise you should anything happen to them. Of course things being as they were, he was not able to," he says, as if twelve years in Azkaban was nothing more than a simple annoyance, "But now he is able to. If you should desire, you could live with Sirius. He could even legally become your guardian. Or your parent," he adds the last as if it is a wonderful gift he is giving Harry.

It isn't. Not at all. It is the opposite in fact.

He hears Black's breath catch beside him. "Really, I could?" he asks, voice growing excited, "I am finally cleared?"

"Indeed my boy, you are. Legally you now have every right to Harry as any other godparent."

As if he is a thing to be handed over or a toy to be given away. Nails bite into skin as he tries to control himself. He is going to remain calm. He is going to be reasonable and collected about this. He is not going to act like a baby or fly into a panic attack. Then none of them will listen to him.

Black turns to him. "What do you say pup? Would you like to be mine? Officially that is?"

The hope in Black's face is painful to witness. To know that he wants this so badly. To know Harry does not want this just as much. What is even worse is that he doubts he will end up having a choice in the matter. It has already been decided. Before Black and Lupin even entered the room, it had been decided. Dumbledore will do what he thinks is best, as always, whether Harry agrees with him or not. Isn't that how it always goes.

Harry's breath hitches, catching in his throat.

Black seems oblivious to this, waiting for his answer, but Lupin isn't. He frowns. "Harry, are you alright?" he asks in concern.

Harry doesn't say anything. All he can do is stare at Black and keep breathing. Breathe and wait for his fate to once again be decided by another. When has what Harry wanted ever mattered? Never because it doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. He never has. He likely never will. Certainly not if he is given to Black.

At first he doesn't even realize that he is shaking until he looks down at his hands and sees for himself. Blood drips from his fingernails where they have broken skin on his palm. Calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. But it is no use. His breath picks up again, stuttering as it comes out.

"Harry?" Black asks, finally realizing that something isn't right here, "Pup? You don't look so good all of a sudden. Are you feeling alright"

He can't move. He can hardly breathe. No he isn't feeling alright, what a stupid question. See, Severus was right. There is such a thing as a stupid question.

Almost as if his thought had summoned him, Severus walks in the door, Regulus close behind in. "Headmaster," he greets coolly, "I see you have started without us. Might I remind you that I am required to be here when you summon my students for important matters?"

"Come now my boy, this is a friendly family meeting, no need to be so defensive here."

"Friendly yes," Severus says, dry as a desert, "Is that why Potter looks as if he is a ghost."

"Yes it does appear as if he has had a shock. I admit that I did not think my news would affect him this much."

"And what news might that be?" Oh Severus sounds dangerous now. His voice is practically a purr. Any of his students know that is when he is about to attack. Unfortunately for him, the Headmaster does not seem to know this – or he doesn't care – for he carries on cheerfully. "Why the fact that Sirius, as the boy's legal godfather, is able to adopt him as well. Perhaps even easier than the two of you.

There is a low noise at that. Harry doesn't realize that it is him that is making it. He is too busy trying to breathe instead.

"I beg your pardon?" Regulus asks, "are you implying that, for some reason, Harry is not suppose to be with us? That Sirius is the better choice although we both know Harry better."

There is a warm presence at his back. Harry leans into it. He barely registers the black robe in his hand as he grabs onto it.

"I am just saying that I believe Harry should have a chance to be with his real family is all. The one that Lily and James chose for their son."

"You mean like Petunia," Severus spits the name, "is his real family? Because I can assure you that is no recommendation on either of their parts."

"And you think you could do a better job Snivellus? Just what are you doing to him now?"

Black touches his arm and Harry flinches violently away. No, no, no. No touching. It isn't safe. It's never safe. It only means more pain. He leans into Severus more, desperately trying to hide.

"Yes, clearly you are an excellent choice Mutt. Fine job right there."

"Harry is my godson, I would never hurt him. It's because of you that he is like this. I bet you filled his head with all kinds of stories. Trying to turn him against me."

"Oh no, you are doing a fine job of that yourself. There is no need for me to say a word."

Harry burrows further in the robes. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants to be gone. Away. He wants this conversation to have never have happened. Too bad he never gets what he wishes for.

"Just what are you playing at here Headmaster?" Regulus asks angrily.

"I am not playing at anything. I want the best for Harry here, the same as all of us here. It wouldn't be fair to keep information from him, would it?"

"Of course not," Regulus snorts in disgust, "Especially when it is to your advantage."

"Give me my godson Snivellus," Black says angrily, "He is mine, not yours."

"One might argue that because he is a Slytherin, he is in fact mine. However, seeing as how he is a human and not a chew toy, I will not stand here and fight over him like one."

"So he's a Slytherin? So what? His parents were Gryffindors, he can't be all bad."

"You mean he can't be all evil," Regulus says, just as dry as Severus ever is.

Harry flinches as his breath once again picks up. It is true isn't it? That is what Black means. It is always what Black means.

"Shall we do an arm count to see how many of my classmates were Marked compared to yours?" Black bites back.

Harry loses the thread of conversation after that. Everything is a blur, especially when the yelling begins. When he comes back to himself, he is curled up in Severus' lap, inside his robes. He makes a faint noise.

"Back with us brat?" Severus asks.

"Brat?" Black hisses. There is a thud and then, "Ow, Remmy," he complains.

Harry plasters himself against his side, getting as close as possible.

"I will take that as a yes. Are you going to come out now?"

Harry shakes his head. No. No he isn't. He isn't coming out until it is safe. And it isn't safe yet. There are too many dangerous people around still. Too many unknown factors. Better to stay here where he knows he has some form of protection.

"Brat," Severus mutters again.

"Quit calling my godson a brat Snivellus," Black says, a growl clear in his voice.

"His brat," Harry mutters back to him. It isn't very effective considering he said it into Severus' chest, but still. The point remains the same. He is Severus' brat.

"What was that pup?" he asks, all concerned.

Harry turns so that he can be heard this time. "His brat. Means I'm tolerable," he says, echoing Severus from all those months ago.

"Tolerable?" Black sounds outraged at this.

Regulus sighs. "Your tolerable and Severus' tolerable mean two completely different things, believe me. And haven't you been listening to your Mind Healer at all lately? Or has all your sense flown out the window? Again."

Black grumbles something under his breath but doesn't answer.

"If you are done pushing my students into panic attacks then Headmaster," Severus says.

"Do you not believe this is a sign that Harry needs help? A good support system?"

"Which we are fully capable of providing. Or did you miss which of us he clung to when he was vulnerable?"

Harry flinches at the word, hating how weak it makes him sound. How weak he is.

"Hush child," Severus soothes, "remember what I said."

"Panic attacks are not a sign of failure. They are a body's way of reacting to undue amounts of stress. It does not mean you are weak for having them," he says dutifully.

"Very good. Now is that all?"

"There is still the matter of Harry's legal guardians," Dumbledore says gently.

Severus growls, "You are really pushing your luck today, aren't you, you manipulative old bastard?"

"Now come now my boy-"

"I am not your boy," Severus says angrily.

"These things need to be taken care of sooner rather than later. You know how it is."

"I'll do it," Harry says.

"What was that?" Regulus asks.

Harry partly comes out of the safety of Severus' robes. "I accept your adoption. I choose the two of you," he says firmly. Now is not the time for doubts. Now is the time for action. "I choose you," he repeats.

"Are you sure?" Regulus asks, "We may be forced into this," and here he glares at the Headmaster, "but we can become your legal guardians instead."

He shakes his head.

"Adoption cannot be undone. We can do the paperwork for the guardianship now and the adoption later, if you want it still."

"No, adoption," he insists.

"And why is that?"

"Legal guardians can be undone. If we do that, you can be taken away. I don't want to lose you."

"And who would take us away?"

He points at the Headmaster. "Him. He keeps trying to control me and he might change his mind and take you away from me. But if you adopt me, he can't. He can't undo it. You'll be my parents. Mine." His parents. The thought both thrills him and makes him sick to his stomach. But out of the three choices he has, it is no choice at all. The Dursleys certainly aren't an option. And he has too many issues with Black to agree to be his son, the least being he does not trust him at all.

He may not trust Severus and Regulus fully, but it is more than most people. He isn't even sure if, at this point, he will ever be able to trust anyone completely. He has been burned too many times before. Still, it is the best choice he has. And he can't say he isn't happy with it. He is. He may have issues with it, but he has issues with everything. That's just the way he is.

And so it is decided.

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Beware the person who says they are doing this for your own good. They likely have no idea what they are talking about.

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And that is how Harry James Potter became Lord Heir Harry James Regulus Potter-Black-Snape. It is a mouthful, but traditional. Or that's what he's told when he complains about it. The best part about the ceremony is the extra height he gained from the blood adoption potion. Finally he isn't the shortest in his year anymore.

The school is shocked when the announcement is made. So is the rest of their world. But Harry doesn't care. He refuses to care when they treat his life like the newest show on the telly. This is his life, he will live it the way he wants to. And if he still has doubts about this, well, it is still better than the Dursleys or Black. Everything else can be dealt with later. He has the time now after all.

The twins graduate with a bang of course. None of the Professors are very impressed, the Headmaster least of all. Harry appreciates the gesture though. None of his friends are happy with the way the he handled the adoption. They promise to show him their new shop once they buy it. They already have the building picked out. Their job offers still stands firm, even with all the attention he is getting over his potion. Especially with all the attention he is getting.

Neville is almost ready with the final draft of his book. They want to publish it before the next school year begins. Maybe some of the students will find it useful. The they are going to work out a schedule and way to brew their Dementor Protection Potion. Not a very original name, but then it doesn't have to be. It just needs to say what it does.

Luna is going with her Father to Sweden to look for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He wishes her luck. She promises to bring one back for him.

Draco is yet again spending the summer with them. Narcissa is still in France. It is doubtful she will ever come back at this point. He finds himself happier than expected at this. As it turns out, the prat is growing on him after all. A bit like fungus actually. Maybe... maybe something is possible between them after all. Only time will tell at this point.

And Harry, well.

"Come on brat, let's go home."

Harry is beginning to think that his hope might not be such a bad thing after all.

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Always remember, and never forget, it is always darkest before the dawn.