jharad17 - Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Still, he supposed with everything that had happened today, Harry was likely to manifest more symptoms of his fear than new nightmares, and he soothed Harry through the aftermath of this one as he had any other.

In the morning, both of them were tired and anxious, and Severus decided to take his son home.

XX(Whelp)XX

Harry was uneasy. Though he liked being at Spinner's End, especially seeing Dappin again, Father was acting all weird. When Dappin let him help with dusting -- even letting Harry use the real feather duster, which he quite liked, with its colorful plumes and all -- Father followed them from room to room, carrying a book he pretended to read. And when Harry played out in the garden on his replacement broom (the first one having been eaten by a squid), Father sat on the bench near the back door, watching over the top of his book again. As far as Harry knew, Father didn't usually like being outdoors.

Also, he wouldn't let Harry eat lunch outside, even though he used to, before they moved to Hogwarts. Instead, they sat at the dining table together, with Harry nibbling on a sandwich and casting uneasy glances at his father.

"What is it, Harry?" Father asked at last. He hadn't eaten any of his own lunch, Harry noticed. His sandwich was cut into two pieces, still whole, and he still had eight apple slices on his plate. Harry liked having even numbers of food portions, like two, four and eight, whenever he could.

Harry bit his lip, not sure what Father meant, nor how he was supposed to answer that question. "Sorry, Father?"

"Whatever for?"

"Um. I don't know?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Ummm?"

Father closed his eyes briefly, then looked at Harry with a calmer expression than he'd had before. Harry instantly relaxed a bit. "Let me start again. You seem nervous, Harry. Is anything wrong?" He paused, then in a sharper tone: "Have you seen anyone lurking around, a man with black hair, for instance?"

"You have black hair, Father."

A twitch of his lip was as close to laughing as Father usually got, but this time, he snorted a breath, and his lip twitched quite a lot. "Yes. I do, don't I." He shook his head, lip still twitching. "But have you seen anyone else about?"

"Like the man who murdered my Mum and Dad?"

The lip stilled completely in that moment. The air itself seemed to still, and Harry held his breath, waiting for . . . something.

At last, Father gave one sharp nod and lowered his gaze to his plate. "Yes."

An odd feeling uncurled in Harry's stomach, making him almost ill, but he managed to say, "No, Father. I haven't seen anyone."

"Good."

Harry lifted his glass and took a long drink of milk to soothe his stomach, still watching his father's face, still uneasy.

Father's dark gaze came up again. "Did you have something you wanted to ask me, Harry?"

Though Father had told him many times he was allowed to ask questions, it was still a concept Harry was getting used to, and he was not yet passed the point of being fearful each time he did it. But after a moment's hesitation, he said, "You didn't make any potions today?"

"That doesn't sound like a question," Father said quietly.

"N-no." Harry bit his lip again, then blew out his breath an screwed up his courage. "How come?"

Something in Father's eyes darkened to pinpoints of black fire, and Harry knew an instant of pure terror, until he realized the darkness was not aimed towards him, but at something inside Father himself. "I had something more important to do."

Harry frowned, having not seen Father do much of anything all day except pretend to read while watching him play in the garden. "You did?"

Father nodded, tilting his head a bit to the side, almost like a bird watching a worm. His expression was not like a bird's, predatory, but only curious. "Yes, of course."

"But, you were only watching me play!" Harry tried to explain.

"Yes," Father said simply, and Harry was confused all over again.

He thought for another few moments, taking a bite of peanut butter sandwich to help him work it out. "Do you think he might come here, then?" he asked once he'd swallowed.

"I don't think so," Father said gravely. "But I don't want to take chances, either."

Harry chewed on his lower lip until Father drew it gently out from between his teeth. With a chagrined half-smile, Harry leaned into his hand. "Me neither."

XX(Whelp)XX

The next few days passed fairly quietly. Harry played in the garden, worked on his reading and writing, and occasionally, helped his father out with potions. Father insisted that, if he wanted to help, he had to be very careful with the instruments they used. He could not play with the knives or pestles or cauldrons, but had to be respectful; it was grown up work.

He liked the calm quietness of Father's laboratory, and the voice Father used when talking about his potions, or anything to do with them. Certain ingredients were spoken of in a near reverent whisper. Harry particularly liked the look Father gave him when they completed their first potion together. He had never had someone look proud of him before, and he basked in the wonder of that feeling until bed time.

Even though Father said the wards at the Weasleys' house -- which they called the Burrow -- had been made stronger already, they didn't return to see the Weasleys for several more days. Harry didn't mind. He liked spending time with his father more than going there. Although, he did miss playing with Ronnie and the others. A bit.

When they did finally go to the Burrow, Father did not just leave Harry there while he went to Hogwarts. Instead, he stayed nearby, keeping an eye on Harry, just like he had been doing at Spinner's End. Harry was glad that he didn't leave. He even watched Harry play Quidditch with Ronnie, Ginny and the twins, but he wouldn't play with them, even when the twins begged him to. Harry could have told them that Father didn't like that tone of voice, but he figured they'd learn it on their own.

Ronnie told Harry that his parents had received letters from their older sons who were at Hogwarts: Charlie -- who Harry missed a great deal, even after the brush off after classes started -- and Bill and "widdle Percy," as the twins called him. The letters told them about the Dementors, which Ronnie said were really scary monsters, and the twins said were more like floating zombies what tried to kiss you, and which Mrs. Weasley said not to talk about at all, boys, if you please. Bill wrote about how all the students had been warned to keep an eye out for danger in the form of Sirius Black, but no one had seen any clue that he was actually in the area. None of the older boys seemed worried about anything, in fact, except Percy was upset because his pet rat had gone missing. Unfortunately for him, the Weasleys could not afford to buy him a new one, so he had to do without a familiar for now.

All in all, despite the fact that Father hovered nearby more than Harry had ever seen him do before, they spent a contented, peaceful week or so together, both at Spinner's End, and at the Burrow, reading, making potions, and, in Harry's case, playing Quidditch and getting back to schooling with the other children.

Of course, such peace could not last forever.

TBC . . .

A/N: Thanks to all who read and/or review!

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*Chapter 19*: Chapter 19

Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape

By jharad17