A/N: This is it, folks. The one, the only…final chapter of PTS!

Usual disclaimer applies, as I own nothing.

Will tell you absolutely nil about this chapter, as I've no idea what's going into it at this point in any case, see?

:D Cannot believe I've actually FINISHED this…

Chapter 11: Détente At Nightfall

I pause at the front door of Snape Manor, my sharp ears picking up the sound of what I know instinctively to be a heated argument between Severus and – who else – Harry. The wind is high here, prodding cold fingers into my slightly less tattered cloak – a favourite of mine for visits here. Almost everything is unpredictable about this old Manor, you see – never hurts to have something you can rely on in a pinch to protect you from a hex when Harry's feeling mischievous.

I slip in, shoulders hunched as I quietly shut the door, the countercharm for the Disillusionment Charm falling easily from my lips from months of practice. Now that 'Tobias' had officially arrived in England, me, Albus and Severus have deemed it the most practical thing for Harry to move into the Manor proper. That, unfortunately, constituted at least three days' work of dragging the crumbling old place from 'barely habitable' to 'almost habitable', and several hours' worth of violent bickering between Harry and his – I only just manage not to cringe – father.

The thought still hurts, of course, that James and Lily had it so fucking wrong, and I couldn't see it. I saw signs, of course, but I knew them, or thought I did. Passing it off as slightly more serious bickering was not hard.

But to see Harry now, after all Severus' help –

"(1) Desigur, Severus, desigur – "

Sighing, I head for the raised voices, only able to make out that they are arguing in Romanian. My mind turns over the memory of the first time I set foot here in, what – seventeen, eighteen years? Seeing Harry's weakened body on that bed – even from the rather precarious angle I was held in by a, now that I let myself look back on it, justifiably over-cautious Severus – was one of the most shocking, joyful moments of my life, second only to meeting Sirius in the Shack. Admittedly, dealing with Harry's temper tantrums and added vitriolic intensity (only complex words suffice for his rages, now) has been challenging, and sometimes almost maddening, but, looking on Harry's lean, healthy frame as I see him tonight makes it seem worth it.

Even if he is currently screaming what sounds like a hundred imprecations in his stormy father's face at the moment, I'd hold myself to that.

Right, then. Approach cautiously –

"Severus – Harry, what's – "

"Stay out of it!" both of them order, almost without thinking. I roll my eyes – their dynamic is almost set in stone, for crying out loud – and, shrugging diffidently, try out one of the fairly decent-looking couches in the oversized living room the two of them have evidently been working on for the past one or two hours. Then Severus lets off a rapid string of Romanian – manages to sound insulting even when you can't understand what the bloody hell he's saying, as usual – that seems to anger Harry so much that he actually does the unthinkable.

Turns to me.

"Remus, seriously, you've got to hear this – he thinks my idea for causing 'disturbances' doesn't have any merit – " My eyebrows rise almost of their own accord, even as I fight to keep a straight face. I recall, now, not thinking much of that idea either – how the hell a fucking party is going to distract every dodgy little twerp in Slytherin house enough that the Order's activities go unnoticed is slightly beyond my ken– but I make an effort to let go of that thought very quickly. Harry's become unpredictable about using Legilimency, once Severus beat it into him around two weeks ago, and it would not be pretty if –

"And that is because they do not, Toby," Severus hisses back, fists balling up at his sides. I try not to cringe – or even show any emotion but calm acceptance, or whatever the bollocks it is. Severus always seems like a tightly coiled spring whenever I'm with him and Harry, together, nowadays.

My keen sense tells me he might be jealous, but, bloody hell, I can't see it, much less understand it. Severus Snape, jealous of me? I look away and cross my legs, out of habit, because it's just – unthinkable.

My brain urges me to think about it – fine, fine – and I do, for a split second, as Harry turns his attention back to his father. I don't stay here as much as Severus does – anti-reason #1 – because the Order activities, which have gone up like nothing before after Minister Orwell's eager agreement to aid the Order. Then again, I always try to have a chat with Harry whenever I'm here, and that usually involves something silly from my day, to break the ice. Only once the ice is broken, Severus returns - anti-reason #2 – scowling fit to kill himself, and the ice is either fully formed by the end of my stay, or melting and spewing forth as boiling hot water as a result of one of their disagreements. Or Severus stays and glowers at me, interrupting my wimp, leading anecdotes – anti-reason #3 – and I decide it isn't worth the headache trying to talk about anything serious.

Then again, Harry and I are almost always laughing, just before he gets back, and the whole bother seems to lessen on seeing that new smile of his forcing the rest of his taut face to relax. A slightly foolish, fond half-smile forms against my will, and, to my misfortune, Severus glances at me, just at that moment.

And his scowl becomes almost manic. I blink hard, and then it really hits me. I let it impact, feeling the realisation spread through my body as Severus snarls something in Romanian at Harry. So. He doesn't like me smiling, or, probably, knowing Severus, laughing, around Harry, which is silly, because that's what I've always tried to –

Shite. Reason #1, then – I make him laugh.

But…but that's so stupid my brain responds in disbelief.

So I make Harry laugh sometimes. So what? I only laugh with Harry because he needs it. When I'm away, it's Severus, his bloody dad, that deals with everything – things like almost drowning in that god-forsaken fucking tub from pure panic aren't the things Harry likes to laugh about. Or talk about, refer to, hint at – if there's a master at hiding his feelings now, it's that dark-haired young man angrily fidgeting in front of me.

My half-smile wants to fade, but I won't let it, because Harry's looking over at me again. Show no emotion, hide no already perceived emotion, see? Rule number one, for dealing with Harry now, I promise you.

For a crazy instant, I really, really want to burst into a decidedly non-werewolf-like giggle. Albus had that down to a fine art before the fiasco of his fifth year, but has really lost the plot, even now, when Harry doesn't hiss and spit and ignore as much. Even Severus just says whatever the hell he feels like saying or sneering, and gets on with it, even getting away with putting Harry in his place (according to Severus) every so often. Me? I am the master of Dealing With Harry.

So it stings when all he does, or wants to do, is laugh.

"Severus," Harry continues impatiently – another battle lost, there – "you know I can't go round exploding – what, cauldrons, or – or fucking fireworks every time you and Dumbledore's Tinpot League," the words are emphasized, viciously, "decide to do a bit of challenging down at the local Voldemort lair, you know that – someone, anyone would see a fucking pattern, it's too bloody – "

"And your suggestion to remedy that is to prance around half naked in the Slytherin dungeons with your more wand-happy peers to the dregs of wizarding music, Tobias? Pathetic in the extreme – "

"One of these days," Harry snarls back, in the very same tone, "I'm going to hex you so you can't say that word – "

"Oh, the great Harry Potter has threatened me. Pardon me, Lupin," a sneering Severus turns on me, "if I hide behind your tattered skirts in abject terror. Soothe and save me, if you will – "

"As always, you make this about mocking me instead of about my idea," hissed Harry, taking a menacing – and it really was – step towards his father. "It's just a fucking suggestion, for God's sake – "

Okay – things look about to get out of hand now. I'll just –

"Severus, why don't we just listen – it wouldn't hurt to talk to Albus about it, now, would – "

"I recall," Severus spat, turning menacingly on me, "telling you to stay out of it – "

"Oh, so he can't be on my side, now, can he, just because you think my idea is pathetic?" Harry retorts, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. I want to sigh – he keeps manipulating all of us this way, playing each against the other in such a – "That is such bollocks– "

"I recall," Severus begins to shout, turning on his smug son, "YOU telling HIM to STAY OUT OF IT just as loudly as ME – "

"Look, it's fine, I'll stay out of it – " I interject helplessly, even as the malicious satisfaction in Harry's eyes turns rapidly to something else –

"What IS IT with you?" he shouts back, hoarsely, radiating anger and consternation like a magical furnace, "You KEEP DOING THIS, every fucking time I bring him up – every FUCKING time he gets here – "

"Give me one good reason why NOT!" Severus shouts back, just as hoarsely, moving so close to Harry that they're practically in each other's faces. "You are DISGUSTINGLY PATHETIC – you treat him like HE is your father – like I have not done everything for you, would not do ANYTHING…" Harry stills in shock, as I have already done. The look on his face – bloody hell, the look on Severus' face makes me want to sink into the floor – slink off out of the Manor –

Severus is gasping for breath now, almost apoplectic with anger and – oh Merlin – shame. Shame that I'm here – that I heard that –

Harry somehow regains his voice, stumbling horribly over everything he tries to say –

"Severus – I didn't mean – I never said – "

"I do not know why I bother," Snape snarls, pushing roughly past his son. His eyes fill with malevolence as they alight on me, a hatred that makes me recoil.

Say something – just say anything…

He doesn't even touch me as he moves swiftly out of the room, leaving me with a stricken, shaking Harry.

I feel even guiltier than before, now, as I turn to Harry, because I'm actually looking forward to this.

Sad, isn't it?

Or, I think, turning to the shaking teen beside me, perhaps not.

The conversation I have with Harry doesn't go well. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, saying wrong – all I get out of him is a series of self-recriminations and a lot of focusing on the door through which Severus left.

In the end, he does laugh, and I want to cry, just for a moment. Then I slam the gates down and return to being Good Old Remus, just for now.

As he leaves, I wonder if there is anything else, for me, with him.

I Conjure a drink and concentrate my attention on that, because I fear the answer is no.

Harry watched his father storm jerkily from the room, wishing, above all things, that he'd just kept his mouth shut. Remus looked horrible all the way through that – stricken, just like Severus did –

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" he found himself saying, slowly, head spinning so fast with the stupid, stupid, STUPIDITY of saying that, of bringing it up – "Makes you wonder why I'm an orphan, doesn't it?"

"Don't say that, Harry – "

"Why not?" Harry replied, shaking his head, almost unable to breathe, now – "I shouldn't even have brought it up – I knew, and I said it – "

"You didn't know, Harry, I didn't know either – "

"I knew, Remus – I knew! Don't treat me like this – don't you dare pass this off like I just didn't know what I was saying, all right?" Harry snapped, turning on Remus, too – it wouldn't be fair if he didn't, would it? Hysterical laughter bubbled tightly up in his chest, but he kept it down, kept it away – "I knew exactly what I was saying, and you know it. Don't try to make me feel better, because Merlin knows I don't deserve it." Remus fell silent, just looking and looking, as Harry's insides writhed with guilt.

Stupid stupid stupid fucking STUPID –

"It doesn't mean you need to beat yourself up over it, Harry," Remus began, looking oddly eager to pacify him, somehow –

"Bollocks. I knew this would happen eventually, you know. Just didn't think I'd start it, did I?" Harry shook his head, a mirthless, horrible smile stretching oddly at his lips. "Was there anything you needed to tell us? Anything you need to say?"

Remus' expression twisted oddly, but Harry couldn't see why – maybe he'd offended them both, today, by some twisted logic. He couldn't keep a mirthless laugh from bursting out, now – this was so ridiculous, the day hadn't started any different, for fuck's sake, and was now turning into a morbid series of hurting people he knew he cared about –

"No," Remus replied, his expression closing up. Harry resisted the urge to pry, just this once. Wouldn't hurt to let it go, just once, would it?

"Everything's all right, yeah? Tonks okay…?" he couldn't stop himself from prodding. Remus was just looking so –

"Tonks is fine, Harry." Remus replied, rising from his seat on the couch, briefly.

Harry nodded slowly, then forced himself towards the door his father had stormed out through, absently noting that his former professor was Conjuring a cup of tea behind him. He started a little as he realised he'd almost sensed the incantation as much as heard it, behind him, and thought, before he could stop himself, that Severus would be pleased.

Harry snarled at the empty corridor, shaking his head as he wandlessly cast the Four-Point spell.

He had some serious explaining to do.

He snorted as his elegant new wand stopped turning in his hand, at an odd angle.

He had some grovelling to do, more like.

Severus Snape knew who it was, opening his door like that.

Of course he knew – his bloody – brat – never deemed it sufficient to open the door by hand. Nothing but a force spell for the Great Harry Potter, of course –

He resisted the powerful urge to throw the small flask of Firewhiskey at the door – more because he wanted to consume it than due to any sort of concern for the ungrateful wretch's safety – turning decidedly to face the wall beside his bed. Pallet would be a more appropriate description for this wretched, threadbare thing, as thin as it bloody is –

Severus swore inwardly. Why had he come here, to the dungeon he'd used while 'Tobias' had 'been' in Romania?

He snorted as the familiar footfalls crossed the threshold. Some stupid sense of sentimentality, no doubt, Merlin knows how the fucking hell it crept up on me –

"You already know what I'll say, don't you?" Harry – dear Merlin, I cannot call him anything else now – murmured from behind him. Severus refused to move – to capitulate –

But a hand was placed on his shoulder, and his body betrayed him, turning traitorously.

"No reason for me for me to allow you to slither out of making a proper apology, is it?" he spat back, unable to keep the venom from his tone. "Only the great Harry Potter – "

"Oh let that go," the boy practically shouted back, wrenching away his irritatingly long hand. Severus turned fully, rising to his feet, his most malevolent sneer in place. But the brat was still speaking – "It's Tobias Snape, and you know it," Harry spat, eyes narrowed, chin held high, "and I'll thank you not to forget it."

Severus could not think of a thing to say.

"You really need to let go of that habit, by the way," his son continued, dropping insolently into the mattress where he'd just risen from, "Really, Severus – I'm supposed to be in hiding…Things like that tend to give one's cover away, you see – "

"Oh be quiet," Severus forced out, rolling his eyes as he grudgingly took a seat beside his son, who gave him a long, drawn out look. "I'm not a spy for nothing, Tobias – you can assure yourself of your safety." Severus held on to that image, that idea, so hard that he could feel his head hurting.

If anything – Lucius – happened to him – if anything went wrong – if those over-inquisitive idiots the boy had had the gall to call his friends found out –

He refused to look at the boy again – he could practically feel the boy's eyes sweeping him, and then –

A hand snaked onto his shoulder, and they were still for a moment.

My son, indeed. The reverie, of course, did not last long. Tobias broke it, perking up to attention in the most fascinatingly horrible manner.

"Oh, you're a spy! Really, uncle?"

Severus did look at his 'nephew' then, because that was just so bloody off topic – "Who do you spy for? Uncle – do you spy for the Ministry, or just so – "

"Do you need a Silencing Charm, Tobias? Nothing else seems to suffice with you – "

"Oh come on, let's not get wand-happy down here – put that – don't – " And the low voice of his son was abruptly cut off. Severus felt an equally traitorous smile twitching onto his face as Harry made increasingly violent rude gestures in his direction, where he twirled his son's sparking wand in the air.

"Now I do think this is rather more pleasant – don't you? Lovely, rational conversations we'll be able to have now, don't you think – "

" – BASTARD!" Severus looked down at his son's hands in surprise. They usually glowed slightly when he was trying to work his increasingly shocking wandless magic, and they…hadn't –

Oh, right. Wonder Boy was now twirling his wand in his hand, a vicious look (now properly at home on his face) making itself known. And –

"Return my wand immediately, Tob – "

Severus' lips stopped moving mid-syllable, as he watched the equally vicious grin spread across his son's face, and realised that he couldn't –

"Merlin's purple arsehole – give that – put me right, this instant – you – you - !" Severus felt his fists curl up once more beside him as he loomed threateningly above his evilly chuckling son, the effect spoiled by the fact that the brat had fucking Silenced him as well –

"Ah, ah ah – you didn't say the magic word, Dad – "

What was he thinking, flapping his arms about – there was a nonverbal incantation for the countercharm, he knew it –

And the wand was in reach, and – come on –

"Say your prayers, Potter – Agitares cubilis!" The mattress rippled powerfully under his alarmed son, distracting him just enough – "Pruriginis!" A too-powerful Itching Hex hit Harry just as he managed to scrabble off the bed, and the deed was –

"Finite prurigo!"

- done. Or, rather, Severus thought exchanging the most juvenile hexes and jinxes that came to mind with his wildly shrieking son, not quite finished -

"Severus? Harry? Is everything all – "

"Densaugeo!"

"Tarantallegra!"

" – oo bashtardsh – "

And there they were. Severus could hardly believe the state of his dungeon, now – there were scorch marks and injured black robes everywhere, and the bloody pallet had a mind of its own – oh wait, there it was, doing an admirable job of strangling the helplessly, compulsively wriggling Lupin. Severus could not help pausing to watch – simply lovely –

"Silencio! Rictusempra!"

For the next few minutes, Severus found that there was nothing as torturous as being condemned to silent, immensely foolish giggles while your idiot son scrambled over your body in order to rescue that foul puddle of genes known as the werewolf. He could – barely – remember – nonverbal –

"Oh Merlin – letch me outch, pleashe – "

Severus tried to grit his teeth and wait for his brat to simper over Lupin, but, dear Merlin on a pike on the London Tower – trying to – grit –

Ow – ow – OW – always hated this – kill – son –

"Rictusempra!"

"No – ahaha – "

"Silencio!"

And Lupin was captive, then – in very much the same manner. Apart from the fact that the pallet, now on the cluttered floor, seemed to be trying to consume his dancing feet, Merlin knew why –

"And now, gentlemen," said a very irritating voice, from somewhere above Severus, out of his (continuously changing) line of sight, "it is my duty to remind you that I am a Slytherin, and thus…" Harry de-animated the rabid pallet with a flick of his feeble, overly decorated monstrosity he called a wand, "…I take no sides. I stab people, such as you, Remus – and you too, Dad – in the back. Consequently," his smoking trouser legs appeared momentarily before Severus, before he convulsed with another cramp of silent, demonical-son-induced laughter, "I always win."

Footsteps seemed to move away from him and the silently convulsing werewolf.

"Let that be a lesson to you both, gentlemen. Finite…"

"I'll – I'll shkill you – "

"Get back here…this instant, you…arrogant little…brat!" Severus rose, chest heaving, stomach cramping with all the laughing. A rather dishevelled Lupin did the same from a few yards away, grimacing with pain as they heard the supremely annoying sound of Harry's deep laughter from nearby.

" – you'sh forgotchen I know where you shleep, Potcher!"

" – and I know where you wash your stinking little hide!"

"Point-me Harry Potter!" Severus practically shouted, almost at the same time as the gasping werewolf beside him. But his wand wasn't moving in his palm – what was –

"Facking blaghdy – "

"Wait! The name change – Albus must have – shite, shite shite – "

"Redushio! Oh, that little – Point-me Tobias Snape!" Lupin ordered, glaring at his wand almost as if he could terrorise it into –

– pointing.

"What are you waiting for? He's upstairs, the slimy little bugger – "

"Why the fuck should I trust your pathetic little – "

"Oh Merlin – do it yourself, why don't you!"

"Point-me Tobias Snape!" So Lupin's wand did appear to have a few basic functions. So what – the important thing was getting out of this bloody dungeon and getting his hands on his son's tricky little arse –

"Don't push me – "

"Fuck off, Lupin – "

"Can't believe you made that fucking thing try to eat me – "

"Get a grip, you idiot – " After all, he'd only animated the thing – the further, rather thoughtful added function may have been the little brat's handiwork, for all they knew –

" – same fucking pallet I transfigured for you – "

" – as if I would waste my machinations on your furry hide – "

"Who the fuck are you calling – "

"Yes! You! Lupin! Furry!"

"I've had it – "

"From who? That giddy little Tonks character, I suppose – "

"You leave her out of this – "

"Oh dear, I seem to have hit a sore spot – " Merlin, but the stupid bastard will live to regret this – always have their weak spots, don't they, these stupid careless werewolf Gryffindors –

"Don't you dare – "

"So tell me, werewolf – what way does she like it best?" Crude, but sufficient. Look at him – one step away from spontaneously combusting –

"I'm giving you one chance – "

" – on top? Against one of those crumbling doors?" Urgh, no – the images – well. Brought it up, may as well –

" – to take that back – "

" – or does she prefer the eternal doggy style – " – finish it off.

"Oh fuck you – as if you've gotten anything in the past ten years – "

"I'll have you know – "

"What? Where? Who? I'm dying to know – "

"I don't have to explain myself to you – "

"Oh, it's men for you, is it?" Severus felt his heart seize in horror – how did he – no, he bloody didn't, he couldn't –

"FUCK OFF, you pervy arsehole – " Because, really – it had taken the company of an overly quiescent Black female to rid himself of the experience that was Walden Macnair, and Lupin had no business ridiculing –

"Arses do it for you, much? Ever tell Lily, Snivellus – "

He did not just say that.

"YOU – YOU keep your mouth SHUT – "

"Couldn't do the maths, could you, SNIVELLUS? Couldn't think to COUNT THE MONTHS – "

"I warn you for THE LAST TIME – "

" – and yet, it never OCCURRED to you to CHECK if he was your SON – "

"I was NOT AT FAULT – "

" – seeing as you were FUCKING HIS MOTHER – "

" – because dear old JAMES couldn't FUCK her to save his LIFE you mean?"

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT, YOU – ADULTERER – "

"What in the fucking hell is going on?"

Both men had no eyes for the apprehensive teenager – all Severus really felt was sensible at the moment, was rearranging Lupin's disgusting, lying face, or perhaps his knees –

"Cut it out – stop it, for Merlin's sake, stop cursing each other – this is so stupid – Expedio! Expelliarmus – Expelliarmus!" Severus felt himself thrown against the wall, but could barely even register the sensation of his wand being torn from him –

Don't need my wand to kill the werewolf, do I –

"Rudentis ligo – Rudentis ligo – "

"Get these ropes off me, Harry – "

"Not until you calm the fuck down – both of you!" Harry snarled back, shocking them both into sullen silence. "I can't believe this – can't believe the both of you can't be in the same hallway without arguing about something," furious greeneyes raked Severus' prone form, "that happened sixteen years ago!" His shout rang at their ears, filling the hallway with pure menace. "Do you know just how pathetic you two sound, arguing over me? For Merlin's sake, it's over. Finished. DONE WITH!" Severus could hear Harry taking deep, harsh breaths, trying to calm himself – the corridor was teeming with magic, just now – "You will let it go, understand? You'll either let go of this stupid feud over me – over my mum, for crying out loud – or I'll stop speaking to you. Both of you. Understand!"

And, naturally, the next sound that reached all their ears is the one they hoped for least – the sound of the cheery whistle of Albus Dumbledore.

Severus groaned, deeply ashamed. How this would look –

Footsteps barely sounded on the twisted steps a few metres away, then stilled in shock.

Lupin cleared his throat, the very act sounding profoundly ashamed. Bloody werewolf –

"Severus, Remus – what on earth happened to you…?" Albus' footsteps quickened over to the prone form of Lupin, slowing again, as he saw whose wand was menacing them both. "Harry – "

"They were about to tear each other apart over the fact that I got born, sir," Harry interjected snidely. "Bit of a harsh thing to kill someone over, isn't it, Severus?"

"He insulted me – "

"Nothing more than you deserved for insulting James!"

"And I suppose it didn't occur to you that if I was an adulterer, then your precious Lily was one as well?"

"Stop it! Both of you!"

Severus started in his prison of ropes, eyes drawn irresistibly towards the weary old man nearby, who, for a moment, briefly channelled all the hidden power he truly held.

"This is not the time for discussing the past, and you both should know that," Albus said, advancing on Severus' fallen form. "We have important decisions to make, important things to discuss. You will both pull yourself together, understood? I will hear no more of this bickering." A sigh worked its way into the dim air of the dungeon corridor, and Severus could just see his son stowing away his still-glowing wand. The ropes binding him fell, and Severus got jerkily to his feet, steadfastly refusing to look at the monstrous fool beside him. "I assume your things are packed, Harry?"

"Managed to find some time, sir." Severus did not flinch at the scorn in that voice – he'd faced it before, and he'd face it again –

"Good, good...if you would lead the way to a dungeon that is – " Albus peered past Severus' stiff frame into his wildly disordered dungeon, " – relatively intact, we may begin speaking of our plans."

"Why down here," Harry asked, making no move to obey the already ambling Headmaster, "instead of upstairs? Are the wards down here more concentrated, or – "

"It is, indeed, as you have guessed," Albus replied, a little tiredly, apparently over the hesitation that usually followed such direct queries from the boy these days. "Severus, Remus, do rouse yourselves. I do not have much time, this evening." Severus jerked abruptly into a stiff walk. That the Headmaster would admit that he was pressed for time – "Harry – did you add – "

"Oh, sorry. Forgot about those, yeah…" His tall son edged past him to touch the dungeon door, which opened with slightly dizzying alacrity. Severus felt his gut tighten in added shame – he'd forgotten the new wards Harry had been trying out earlier in the week as well, in addition to his folly, of course – "Chairs, right?" Before any of the three older men could nod or affirm his son's abrupt, well-meaning request, four chairs had winked into the dungeon, which had been empty but for an old trunk and a few garments draped on top of it. "Um…you might want to be careful with these – they tend to disappear after an hour or so. No idea why."

Nevertheless, he sat down in the smallest chair, the lines of his body arranged as if for a challenge. Severus grunted noncomitantly despite his admiration for the boy's tactic. Harry had Conjured the chairs so that the one he sat in was slightly apart from the other three, given the meeting a time limit and not allowed much room for dispute, all in one action. A slightly sad smile lit Albus' face as he took the one of the comfortable seats that was closest to Harry, and, surprisingly, began to speak.

"All is ready for your return, Harry. As planned, you will be residing in the male Slytherin Sixth Year dormitory. The extra wards have already been added in gradual layers, so that none of the current occupants of the dormitory suspect any foul play." Severus found himself forced to sit next to the monstrous fiend that was Lupin. It didn't help to know that Albus had almost certainly manoeuvred him into the precarious position by the side of the werewolf, either. "You will take your morning lessons with the Slytherin sixth years every day, and spend, as we agreed last week, your afternoon lessons with your – ah – uncle. From this hour on, I advise that you refrain from answering to anything but your new name, to better ease your journey this evening – "

"Today?" Harry – no, Tobias interrupted, jutting out his chin in a manner absurdly reminiscent of his old self, "But I thought – "

"It is safer that you leave today, instead of tomorrow, Harry. The Daily Prophet has been full of unfounded rumours of an attack on the Hogwarts Express, and we have cause to believe that the rumours are far less unfounded than they appear. As we have already determined that we will take no chances with your safety, it is natural that you should leave this evening." Tobias nodded slowly, his now defensive posture starting to relax somewhat. "Where is Iona, Tobias?"

Severus blinked at the rapid – and rather random – change of subject, but his son was already replying, even as he fiddled with that ridiculous wand.

"She's sleeping in the trunk, in the top compartment. And yes, the antidote's right beside her, in case some innocent idiot goes through me and the wards on that trunk and gets bitten for their idiocy." At the blanched look on Lupin's face – that idiot had never gotten quite used to the snake's presence – Har - Tobias rolled his eyes. "I'm joking, of course. She's upstairs in the drawing room, and she'll be in my sleeve, so I can keep an eye on her. Safer, eh?"

"How?" Severus could not keep himself from exclaiming. The boy never thought – "And if some innocent idiot hears you speaking Parseltongue, what then?"

"Didn't we sort this out last week? I thought I'd just try not to hiss at her – maybe say one or two words, but just make it look like I'm good with snakes, instead of like I may be Harry Potter the Parselmouth…?" Snape closed his mouth grimly, inwardly bristling at the smug look his son gave him then. "Right. Thought so."

"Severus," Albus spoke quickly, cutting into what he probably thought would become another argument. The old bastard didn't even have faith that Severus could – "you have taught him the Anti-Tracking Charm, have you not?"

Severus found himself nodding stiffly, at the same time with the brat. He bristled further, wishing that little idiot was not so much like him, did not know his weaker points so well – "If you would demonstrate, Tobias…?"

"Induo incantatem," Har - Tobias intoned boredly, shaking some tendrils of overly shiny hair back as his wand shivered, familiar white lines seeming to snake up and down the length and disappear. At Albus' approving nod, he changed it back, giving his father a resentful look as he spoke again: "Finite indutus."

You needed to learn that charm, Severus felt like snapping. It was important to practise it, for Merlin's sake –

"And the charm for name concealment?"

"Incantation Dissimulo nominis, countercharm incantation being Aperio nominis." Severus nodded despite himself – he'd made sure to drum the dangers of that charm into the boy's thick head. It was a useful spell for – well, for spies, helping them to deter and mask discovery by making their intrepid discoverer only able to call them by their adopted name. However, if performed wrongly, or with too much power, it could either backfire on the caster, ensuring they forgot their own name for an indefinite period of time, or permanently make the victim – subject – forget the caster's name.

"Excellent." Albus rose abruptly, startling all three wizards as he continued to speak. "As I said, I have little time left to spend. I will contact you through Severus, as agreed. I believe you were able to procure the tickets, Remus?"

"Yes, Albus, but – "

"As long as Severus and Tobias are present on the evening professors' train to Hogwarts this evening, I will be most satisfied, Remus. I have a meeting with the Minister, and my timed Portkey is set to activate soon, so forgive my brevity. Tobias," The Headmaster turned on Tobias, looking harried and rather ill at ease, "I am sorry – I would see you off, if it were possible, but – "

"Has everyone forgotten I'll just be moving to Hogwarts?" Tobias cut in, an odd smile playing at his lips. "It's no problem, really, sir." Albus stood very still for a moment, his blue eyes burning into Tobias' own gaze. He straightened, slowly, the familiar twinkle returning as he nodded his goodbyes, and, in a moment, was no longer there.

Severus could not bring himself to break the absurdly comfortable silence that Albus had left behind.

Silent moments, such as these, would be few and far between at Hogwarts, after all.

Severus was the first to rise from his oddly quaking chair. The first to snort at Lupin as his reverie was interrupted by the disappearance of his own chair, and the first to send off the partly exasperated, partly mollified look in the direction of his wickedly chuckling son. The first to leave the dungeon, the first to suggest (snidely) that his still-chuckling son levitate the trunk and attendant garments upstairs and save them an extra task later on.

The first to extend a (disdainful) hand Lupin's way in wary truce. The first to hex his artlessly smiling son, and the first to flee the scene, chortling and heavily out of breath. The first to return when the sounds of a scuffle ceased alarmingly, and, consequently, the first to be hexed by an avenging Tobias.

The first to re-enter Harry's dungeon – Tobias' dungeon – and wonder stupidly why it was empty.

The first to re-enter his dungeon, but not the first to repair the damage. Tobias' slightly pink face at their hasty little tea told him the answer to that question, though neither he nor Lupin admitted to the deed when asked.

But, that evening, he was the last to leave the close little dungeon, after disabling the wards. He stayed, despite the odd red spatters they'd been unable to expunge, where his son's pallet had been. Despite the almost debilitating anger that seized him on remembering what the boisterous, sneaky teen had been, two or three months ago.

He stayed for the silence.

(1) Desigur – of course.

A/N: Yup. That's it. To forestall needless questions, let me just say a couple things:

1. My theory of the Hogwarts Express in this story is that the train doesn't make overly regular journeys except around pivotal dates in the school year, and three to five defined extra dates a year, so people would need to arrange their journeys and holidays around its schedule if they needed to travel to Hogwarts at some point. The Express makes four trips between King's Cross and Hogsmeade around Easter, namely two at the beginning of the holiday, and two at the end. That is, one train for the exclusive use of professors (and their families, perhaps), and one for the use of students.

And that is it. Part the Third should begin sometime this weekend, or next week, if I'm really busy. Thanks for sticking with me this long, guys!