Harry and Oliver talked that Sunday night, after a rather awkward and uncomfortable Sunday dinner at Grimmauld Place, with Sirius shooting Harry dirty looks, Harry ignoring them, and Remus throwing up his hands and scolding them both. Finally, when most of his dinner was finished, Harry shoved his napkin upon the tabletop, his phone vibrating in his pocket, and went towards the staircase. He hadn't gotten very far when Sirius came up behind him, taking him roughly by the shoulder and turning him around, causing Harry to shake him off.

"Tell me. Is that Snape?" Sirius demanded.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" he asked, deathly quiet.

"Siri, don't," Remus said, coming up behind him.

"Not now, Remy," Sirius replied, not even looking at his lover as his blue eyes gazed down at his adopted son. "Is it or is it not Sirius?"

"For the love of..." Harry yanked his phone out of his pocket, and jabbed it at Sirius's face, to which Sirius stared at him in shock. "Drake introduced me to someone from Eton. His name is Oliver Wood."

"The football player?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, him," Harry said, pulling his phone back and glaring at Sirius. "What I do in my personal life shouldn't have any bearing on you. I pay my own way, and used my inheritance to cover the university costs that my academic scholarships wouldn't. I successfully managed to pay you both back for the private school education you insisted I get overseas, and the only thing I ever let you buy me without back payment was my flat near Yale. I've never asked you for anything, in all my years, but I'm invoking it now. Stay out of my romantic relationships if you feel so negatively about them!"

"It's not that we feel so negative about them, Harry," Remus said gently.

Sirius dragged a hand through his dark, wavy hair. "It's Cedric," he said, and Harry felt something slamming inside him then. "You were just so... You were so distant and closed off after he was murdered. Remus and I were so worried about you, and you refused to open up to us, or consult the therapist we'd found."

"That's because I didn't need it," Harry growled. "According to Cedric, he didn't want anyone to know about us, because I couldn't..."

"You couldn't what, Harry?"

"No, Remus, I... I can't," Harry said, pushing past them both and charging up the staircase, to his bedroom, and slammed the door. He was shaking as he locked it behind him, and carefully took his phone out of his pocket, which had begun vibrating again. This time, it was for a phone call, not an incoming text message, and he sighed, waiting to calm down before he opened up the phone and pressed it against his ear. "Hey, Oliver," he said into the receiver.

~*~

Harry managed to avoid Sirius and Remus for the rest of the week, by working late on the case files on potential low-level members of Tom Riddle's gang, in order to find a way in to get Narcissa Black-Malfoy back. Of course, it didn't help that Narcissa's own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, who had successfully managed to convince a board of parolees from Broadmoor Hospital that she was sane enough to be released, only to go back to Tom Riddle's side and go into hiding. Despite her long-standing marriage to a fellow member of Riddle's gang, Rodolphus Lestrange, it was widely suspected that Rodolphus would look the other way while his wife engaged in an affair with Riddle.

Harry was slightly startled when a plate of fish and chips was placed beside him, and turned to see Severus entering the office once again, a travel cup of hot tea steaming in his other hand. He nodded his thanks to his superior, carefully putting away the important documents so as not to get the salt and vinegar scent upon them too terribly, and put them aside, before pulling his lunch towards him. "You really should let me treat you sometimes," Harry said, giving a small smile towards Severus.

Severus inclined his head. "Indeed?"

"Yes. After all, it's only fair," Harry said with a shrug to Severus, cutting into his fish with the plastic utensils. "What do you fancy?"

"Indian," Severus said softly.

Harry nodded, making a mental note to ask Drake or Ginny about some suitable Indian restaurants that did take-out in the vicinity. "Monday, then," he said.

Severus bowed his head. "Very well."

"Anything in particular?"

"Curry would be just fine," he replied.

Harry smiled; thankfully, he knew what that was, and he wouldn't have to appear completely inept as he shoved a bite of fish into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, swallowing the bit of fried protein, and mulled over his next words carefully. "Mind if I ask you more about your past?" he asked casually.

Severus inclined his head. "I am feeling unusually generous today," he said softly. "I suppose I can allow a question or two, depending on the subject-matter."

"Why chemistry?"

Severus shifted slightly in his chair. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you select chemistry as one of your majors at Oxford?"

Severus sipped at his tea for a moment before putting the travel mug onto his desk, whereupon he folded his hands beside it, and considered it. "No one has asked me that before, not since an old friend... He died."

Harry swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

Severus waved it away. "It was a long time ago now," he said, shaking his head. "To answer your question, Harry, it was because I was bloody good at it. It served as a distraction from a less-than-savory childhood."

"Less-than-savory?"

Severus gave a brief nod. "Indeed. My mother left her rich and upstanding family to marry a poor factory worker and, as such, was disowned. Her family was right, however, and perhaps if she had not given into flights of fancy for a love affair in springtime, she would have seen Tobias Snape for what he really was—an abusive alcoholic who would take out his rages of constant unemployment and poverty upon his wife and son."

Harry lowered his utensils; he had already finished one piece of his fish, and a few handfuls of the chips, but he had suddenly lost his appetite at what Severus was saying to him. "And... And that son was you?"

"I didn't have any brothers, if that's what you're asking, Harry. No sisters either," Severus said, answering the unspoken question between them.

"You mentioned a friend..."

"Before Lucius, who was several years ahead of me at Eton and didn't really know of me, I had two friends to speak of. One was a girl I had a severe falling-out with when I was fifteen, when I called her the worst thing you could ever call a woman. I once believed myself to be in love with her, but I found out she'd selected a different path in life, a path which would forever link her to my greatest tormentor in school. She made her choice, and I made mine, and we never spoke again. She is gone now."

"Was she the friend you spoke of earlier?"

Severus raised his eyes slowly. "No. No, the other friend I spoke of helped me come to terms with my sexuality. He, too, was in my year at Eton, and it was a wonderful romance. We were together three years, before his death took him away from me. I'll never forget how freeing and wonderful it was, being myself..."

"I suppose being yourself wasn't easy, given that it was in the 1980's, and people were less-than-tolerant of such things back then..."

"Indeed," Severus said again. "Nowadays, things are easier. We may not have the right to marry yet, but it is certainly easier, to be sure."

"So, this second friend of yours, he helped you?"

"Yes. I was sixteen, and my former best friend was married and expecting a child. We were all so young, but each family in the union approved, likely because there was a baby on the way. I didn't really speak to her much after that, and I only knew about it because my significant other was the brother of the best friend of my tormentor."

Harry swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you."

"Not like you, apparently."

Harry blinked, shifting in his chair. "I don't understand."

"It seems as though, despite my warnings, you saw fit to continue seeing Mr. Wood. All the tabloids over the past week have been featuring the two of you. You even made the Sunday evening post, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't see a problem. If anything, we're just getting to know each other, and, despite your concerns, you need not be."

"He is a tomcat, Harry," Severus said firmly, and the possessiveness in his tone caused Harry's spine to tingle in a most appealing way. "Or the homosexual equivalent of one. What you must understand is, he will ultimately return to his former lover."

Harry sighed. "Well, no promises have been made on either end, other than my acceptance to have another meal with him. We just talk..."

"You just talk?"

"Yes. I mean, I gave him my backstory—not about the case," he said, and Severus visibly relaxed at that. "Besides, he's in Wales right now, and then he'll go onto Ireland, in order to play a few games."

"How can he possibly not be interested in your career, when you evidently know something about his own?"

Harry shrugged. "He knows who I work for, however, and that I'm on a case, but I stated that I couldn't discuss it."

Severus's lips thinned. "And what is your backstory, Harry?"

Harry spread his hands. "It's all in my file, essentially. Dead parents, adopted by my gay godfather at fifteen-months-old. Raised by him and his partner overseas in America. Graduated from Yale University, and began my work for the New York Police Force. Then, I took a transfer here instead of accepting a promotion to detective."

Severus hummed. "That's your full backstory?"

"My lover was knifed in an alley, before I graduated from Yale," Harry said, practically tasting the bitterness in his tone. "That enough for you?" he asked, his voice trembling as he shot to his feet. "Or, get this, I was actually in the house when my parents were murdered? I was upstairs asleep, and they were shot on the main floor," he went on, crossing towards Severus's desk and slamming his fists upon its surface. "Sirius later told the press that I was over at his place for the night, and Scotland Yard opted to release that information instead, in case Riddle or his followers deemed it appropriate to come after me eventually. Oh, and yeah, I have a vendetta in this case—bring Tom Riddle to justice and avenge my parents' deaths. That enough for you, Severus?!"

Severus stared up at Harry, his jaw dropped in pure disbelief. "I was unaware that you were in the house upon that night, Harry."

Harry's eyes flashed then, looking shocked. "What are you talking about? Why would it matter if I was in the house or not?"

"No reason," Severus said, suddenly closing himself off. He made a grab for his travel mug, the impenetrable mask in place once more, before he swept out of their shared office, leaving Harry more confused than ever before.

~*~

Despite their falling out the previous week, a truce had been given after Harry had managed to find some halfway decent chicken curry, which Severus declared to be delicious. Later on the following week, as they continued sifting through files and going through the various take-out restaurants close by, they were eating Chinese food one day, the chopsticks and white cardboard boxes having since been put to the side, while they perused the list of Tom Riddle's known and established followers. Most of the males of Riddle's gang, who had been successfully captured throughout the years, had been locked away in Manchester, but Harry came across an old newspaper article, hidden among the files.

"Severus, did you know about this?" he asked him carefully, and looked at the article's title and the attached image. "Mass Breakout of Manchester Prison Leads Officials to Believe That Tom Riddle is on the Rise Again," he said softly.

Severus inclined his head. "I heard something about that, yes. What else does the article manage to tell you, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, looking over the article again. "'It appears that failure to train a new guard properly, according to reports, is the reasoning behind this massive breakout, with more than two-dozen prisoners unaccounted for. While the senior guard took role call yesterday morning, he discovered that several key players in Tom Riddle's gang—the serial killer who identifies himself to the press and authorities as 'Lord Voldemort'—are officially being declared missing by the prison system, and Scotland Yard. Among the missing are Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and Peter Pettigrew. Many lesser known prisoners escaped last night, according to the senior guard, but they will not be releasing their names at this time, as those prisoners are considered low-risk, due to the non-violent nature of the crimes they committed. People are instructed to remain as vigilant as possible, and to remember as clearly as they can how these members of Riddle's gang look like. Do not send your children out alone, and the various boroughs are suggesting a curfew of no later than after dark...'"

"What is the date on that paper, Harry?" Severus asked.

Harry looked up at the top of the paper. "It's dated the nineteenth of January, of 1996," he said quickly, and immediately delved through the files to check and see if there was a follow-up article, and said, "Ah-ha!" when he found it. Scanning the words, he reported to Severus that Peter Pettigrew ended up being the only member of the gang that didn't manage to evade capture by the authorities, and was caught just six months later. "Well, that narrows it down," Harry observed quietly.

Severus sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Only slightly."

"My boys," Albus said, suddenly bursting into their shared office. "There has been an urgent update on the case. Come with me."

Harry and Severus looked at each other for a moment but immediately moved to follow Albus, who made his way promptly to the staff room, where the television on top of the fridge was turned onto the main news network. Lucius, Draco, Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all clustered about as well, and Severus moved to stand with Albus and Lucius, while Harry took the available spot between Draco and Ron.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"Some bloke escaped from Manchester again," Ron whispered back.

"Again?" Harry demanded.

"Hush, Harry," Draco said, squeezing Harry's arm for a moment, "and listen."

A newswoman with too much makeup and overly teased hair immediately became the focus of the camera, and she was standing in the car park of Manchester Prison. "Good afternoon. I'm Sarah Watts, here with a special report, direct from Her Majesty's Manchester Prison. Earlier this morning, we were given reports that one of the beds turned up empty during the routine check upon the hour of breakfast. Initially thinking that the gentleman in question had simply gone to the infirmary, it seems as though he has engineered a daring escape. Convicted murderer Peter Pettigrew," she went on, and a mugshot of the man in question appeared on the screen, with beady eyes, a less-than-satisfactory complexion, wispy and pale blond hair, weak and rodent-like teeth, and an overall simpering demeanor, "has been found out to be this missing and escaped man, according to the prisons' warden. Pettigrew, who was given an indefinite life sentence back in mid-1982 for the 1981 for the mass murder of twelve people, due to a pipe bomb he planted, which was ultimately set off upon the streets of London, escaped once before in January of 1996," she said, showing footage of Pettigrew's arrest and subsequent court appearances over the years, along with those of the other escaped members of the gang, "along with several other supporters of the notorious gang leader Tom Riddle, otherwise known as 'Lord Voldemort'. Pettigrew was the only member re-captured, and he was transferred to another prison in Ireland for a time, but was moved back here in late-2003. As for reports about potential whereabouts of Pettigrew, none are forthcoming so far. It is known that he keeps in touch with members of the gang, as evidenced by the correspondence letters that were found beneath Pettigrew's mattress in his cell. Police are on the lookout for him, and we ask that you continue to stay with us for further updates. I'm Sarah Watts, reporting from Her Majesty's Manchester Prison," she said, and the news logo overtook the screen.

"Turn it off," Lucius said softly then, his voice devoid of any emotion as he stood, stock-still between Severus and Commissioner Dumbledore. "Turn that off, please."

Albus stepped forward then, switching off the television and looking grave. "Lucius, in light of the circumstances, if you would like to leave..."

"Yes," Lucius said firmly, turning about and taking both Draco and Harry by the shoulders, and propelling them out. "Go to your respective offices and gather your things."

"Father, perhaps if..."

"I will take the limo back to the estate, Draco," Lucius said softly, cutting across his son as he squeezed his shoulder, as Ron stepped out into the hallway. "Perhaps it would be prudent if Mr. Weasley gave you a lift to the Burrow."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, stepping forward. "Mum and Dad haven't seen Drake in quite a bit, and I know they would like to meet Harry..."

"That sounds all right with me," Harry replied, realizing that Lucius probably needed some time to himself, in light of the news report. He stepped forward, embracing him for a quick moment before stepping away once more. "I'm here if you need anything, Uncle Luc," he said, and motioned for Ron to follow him, as he went to fetch his things from his office. "Your parents won't mind the unexpected guests?" he asked, slipping the case files he'd been working on into his messenger bag, and gathering up his coat.

Ron shook his head. "No, of course she won't. She misses having the seven kids at home to take care of. She always makes too much food anyhow."

"What's on the menu tonight?" Harry asked with a small smile.

"Shepherd's Pie," Ron said with a grin. "That okay?"

"Brilliant," Harry told him with a nod, stepping out into the hallway again, Ron leaving for a moment to gather his own things from his work station with Lucius, just as Severus, Seamus, Dean, and Commissioner Dumbledore slipped into the latter's office. Harry approached Draco, now standing on his own at the end of the hallway, all ready to leave. "Did you bring the town car?" he asked.

"No, I drove him in today," Ron explained, coming up behind them and removing his phone from his pocket. "Ah. 'Mione's waiting for us. Let's go, then."

"Gin's been at the Burrow the entire day with the kids," Draco put in as they meandered towards the lifts, which would ultimately take them to the lobby, where Hermione was waiting. "It'll be nice to see the wife..."

"She still buried in those essays?" Harry asked.

Draco smirked. "You don't know the half of it."

"I took a fair amount of English and history courses, Drake," Harry said, gently nudging his cousin in the ribs as they stepped into the lift, once it arrived. "Believe me, even though I didn't seek a degree in either subject, I had to write plenty of essays in my time."

"Not Ron," Draco said, still smirking.

The redhead narrowed his eyes. "Oi!"

"Hermione did a lot of his work for him," Draco informed Harry.

"Hey, she was always the brains!" Ron said, annoyance trickling into his tone, just as the doors of the lift opened, and Hermione stood there, tapping her foot. Ron turned red to his ears and stepped forward, kissing her cheek. "Hello, love. Nice day?"

"Part of being a successful barrister is having decent hearing, Ronald," Hermione said, her brown eyes flashing with temporary annoyance. "Drake," she said, brushing past her fiancé and embracing Draco. "I'm so sorry to hear about... Well, everything."

"Just wish I could figure it out," Harry said softly as Draco and Hermione hugged, broke apart, and then permitted the foursome to go outside into the mid-afternoon overcast day.

"Figure out what?" Draco wanted to know.

Harry dragged a hand through his messy hair as they wandered towards where the designated street parking was for the employees of Scotland Yard, raising his eyebrows at the blue Ford Anglia, which Ron promptly unlocked, and opened the passenger doors for Hermione. "Guess I feel like I'm going mad. Must be all the hours..."

"You cannot possibly permit yourself to go mad, Harry," Hermione admonished gently as she straightened her knee-length skirt, and brought her briefcase into her lap. "I'm sure you're positively knackered at the end of the day, but don't lose yourself."

"She's right, mate," Ron said, watching as Harry and Draco got into the backseat and buckled up promptly, while Ron got into the driver's seat.

"What's bothering you, Harry?" Draco asked considerately, as Ron expertly pulled out of the parking space and onto the stretch of road which would ultimately lead them to the Burrow Cottage and Farm.

Harry swallowed, leaning up against the leather seat and mulling it over in his mind. "It's the name, out of all things."

"What name, Harry?" Hermione asked, turning around and looking at him.

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, attempting to smooth down his hair. "I'm sure I've heard people talking about it. My godfather and his partner, they must've said it..."

"With Sirius and Remus so close to my dad, it's not unlikely," Draco said, reaching between them and squeezing Harry's shoulder. "They probably just brought it up when that rat escaped the last time, and that's where you heard it."

Harry nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, almost convincing himself of Draco's theory. "I mean, we were around fifteen the last time Pettigrew managed to escape, right? We all had our own things to worry about."

"I was sixteen already, but I see your point," Hermione said with a soft smile. "The teenage years are complex ones, in a nutshell, not just because of academic ones, but social ones as well. It's so sad that, when we look back, what we deemed important then, doesn't seem nearly as so now, and, quite frankly, is downright laughable."

Harry smiled at her. "You're right, Hermione. Quite laughable."

The rest of the drive was spent mostly in silence, only broken a couple of times when Ron would mention a landmark or two on the rest of the way. Finally, they drove onto a dirt road, with many trees thickening the longer they drove down it, and, finally, came to a vast clearing. At the center of it all, a sign proclaiming it to be so, was the Burrow Cottage and Farm, with an old barn house with massive stables and pig pens and other various places for animals to roam stationed beyond, and Ron pulled to a stop beside a couple of other vehicles.

"Come on out, then," Ron said, helping Hermione from her side of the car, and Draco and Harry didn't need telling twice. "Mum! We're here!" Ron called, using a key to unlock the door and step inside, an arm around Hermione's waist as they trooped into a very homey-looking living room, which Harry found that he loved.

"Ron!" came a shout, and a woman bustled into the room, shoulder-length red hair and expressive brown eyes the most distinctive features about her as she charged forward, pulling her youngest son into her arms. She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back, enveloping Hermione into another warm embrace, before she took ahold of her future daughter-in-law's elegant left wrist. "I see that my son finally got you an engagement ring with a diamond on it. I am very proud," she said, and Hermione flushed becomingly. "Oh, Draco," she said, motioning for Ron and Hermione to walk deeper inside the house, and embraced her only son-in-law with a quick hug. "How are you holding up, dear?"

"Father is worse," Draco said softly.

The woman nodded. "Well, I know things will work out the way that they're supposed to, my dear," she declared, before pulling back and looking Harry up and down. "And who do we have here?" she asked, still smiling.

"Mum, this is my cousin, Harry Potter," Draco said to his mother-in-law. "He was adopted by Sirius when he was fifteen-months-old."

"Oh, of course," Molly said, and quickly enveloped Harry into her arms, and Harry was surprised at how pleased he was with the turn of events. "I remember you from a Malfoy family gathering a few years ago. You were much younger then."

"Yes, of course," Harry told her, and pulled away from Molly once she had turned him lose. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Weasley."

"None of that, my dear boy, none of that. Call me 'Molly', please," she said, putting a caring arm around Harry and Draco's shoulders and leading them into the house, where delicious smells emitted from the kitchen beyond. "Arthur, darling!"

A middle-aged man, close in height to Ron and with equally red hair, stepped out of the kitchen with a smile. He wore trousers, a white T-shirt, and a tartan flannel around his shoulders, while his feet were occupied with brown work boots. "Draco," the man said as he laid eyes upon his son-in-law, and shook his hand warmly, clapping him on the shoulder, before he turned and regarded Harry. "And who are you?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. I'm Harry, sir. Harry Potter," Harry said, almost breathlessly, hating the notion of essentially being on display.

"Good lord," Arthur said, a familiarity lurking just behind his kind eyes. "Are you really?" He smiled then as Harry nodded slightly, and accepted his handshake. "Well, Ron's told us all about you, of course," he went on, almost dragging Harry away from his wife and gesturing him to sit beside Draco at the large table in the kitchen.

"Not much to talk about, I'm afraid," Harry said with a nervous laugh. "Hey, Ginny," he said, reaching around Draco to embrace her. "And these must be my godchildren."

"That's correct," Ginny said, beaming as she motioned to them. "Scorpius Abraxas, our rather mischievous son," she said, indicating the first child, who was Draco in miniature, "and our lovely daughters, Henrietta Cedrella and Desdemona Andromeda," she finished. "My darlings, say hello, like Mummy told you."

"Hello, Uncle Harry," Scorpius said, getting to his feet and offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry smiled, touched as he took the hand of the boy, seeing the spark of mischief behind his refined expression, knowing that he was definitely part-Weasley. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Scorpius," he said to his godson. He turned then to the girls, who were staring, open-mouthed, at the exchange. "Hello, there," he said.

At only two, the redheaded girls stared for a moment, before speaking. "Hi, Unca Harry," they said, and giggled effectively.

Harry smiled, waving to them both before he forced himself to sit, while Molly brought over their dinner, which Arthur cut up and served to them all. He had to admit, he had never tasted anything so wonderful. It felt as if, for a few precious moments, that Harry knew what his life would have been like, had he not moved to the States as a toddler.

~*~

After spending a significant period of time with Severus canvassing the areas that Pettigrew could be hiding out, the pair had come up with nothing so far, which caused definite frustrations on both ends. Thankfully, Albus seemed to understand where said feelings were coming from, and did not seek to push either person. He claimed that they had time, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that Riddle was operating on a different schedule, meaning that Narcissa's time could potentially be running out.

Harry had been vaguely following Oliver's games in Wales and Ireland, and Ron, who was an avid fan of the sport, bonded with Harry over seeing Oliver. Harry found out that Ron had played for the team while attending Eton, as did his brothers Charlie, Fred, George, and, when her time came to participate, Ginny had done so as well. During his free time, when he wasn't avoiding Sirius or Remus, texting with Oliver, or spending time with Draco and Ginny, Harry and Ron would discuss the games, and while Harry had played while he was in what the people in the States called 'high school', he hadn't cared about it as much as Ron had, or Cedric, who was said to be a star in his own right back at Eton.

Harry met Oliver for dinner the night he came back, and was pleased that he didn't feel knackered as he had been of late. He was slightly taken aback when he went into the pub that Oliver had requested they meet up at, and was greeted with a passionate embrace and an equally passionate snog. Not one not to return the favor, Harry allowed himself to kiss the football player back, although it lacked something that he was unable to put his finger on. When Oliver told him that he missed him, and wanted to be official, however, Harry smiled and accepted the offer, and ordered a pint for himself.

That next Friday, after Oliver had been home for six days, Harry decided to take a chance with Severus. They had been getting nowhere on the case recently, and Harry had pondered shaking things up for some time. Just as they were gathering their things to call it a night, Harry reached out and put a tentative hand on Severus's arm.

"Can I persuade you to have a drink with me?"

Severus blinked at the apparent boldness of the younger man, but inclined his head slightly at the request. "That would be acceptable."

Harry and Severus left Scotland Yard together, walking down the street. Since he knew the area better than he did, Harry followed Severus and allowed him to pick the place, which turned out to be the Hog's Head, and Harry remembered Commissioner Dumbledore informing him that his younger brother, Aberforth, owned the place. They stepped inside the place, Severus nodding to the bearded man behind the bar, who Harry guessed was Aberforth in the flesh, and moved over to a table that Severus had selected.

"What brought this on?" Severus asked, slipping into the booth attached to the wall, his obsidian eyes sweeping over Harry.

"I figured that perhaps a change of scenery would allow you to open up to me a bit more," Harry replied with a shrug, unknotting the scarf from around his neck, which Ginny had considerately made for him.

Severus hummed, as if mulling it over. He nodded his head when Aberforth approached, putting two pints onto the wood table, and walked away. "A change of scenery," he intoned, lifting the glass to his lips, vaguely aware of Harry doing the same.

"Yes," Harry said, after he'd swallowed. "The office can be a bit dreary or stuffy. I just figured that you and I could come to an understanding."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "An understanding?"

"I feel like there are some unspoken things between us," Harry admitted, after the moment of silence that passed between them was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"How so?"

Harry sighed, leaning back against the wooden booth. "It's just something that Sirius and Remus said to me," he admitted.

Severus blinked. "And they are?"

"My godfather, or, rather, my adopted father, and his partner," Harry explained. "I would've taken Sirius's surname, Black, I suppose, upon the adoption, but he always said something about not insulting my parents' memories..."

Severus stiffened. "Sirius Black is your godfather?"

Harry blinked. "Yes."

"And... And his partner? Remus? Would that happen to be Remus Lupin?"

Harry felt his heart thundering in his chest at full speed at the look that Severus was giving him then, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why that was. "Yes. Why?"

Severus shut his eyes then, and shook his head. "What is your question?"

Harry worried his lower lip then, noticing that Severus's body language had drastically changed, and it worried him, but he forced himself to press on. "Well, Sirius was angered when I told him that Commissioner Dumbledore had paired us to work together..."

Severus chuckled bitterly, low in his throat. "Oh, I'll bet he was."

"He... He also told me that I was to stay away from you..."

Severus opened his eyes and stared at Harry, momentary confusion passing over his face. "Well, I suppose not following the rules is a familial trait..."

"What..." Harry cut himself off then, and shook his head. "What are you saying?"

Severus hummed to himself again, picking up his glass and swirling the amber liquid inside it this way and that, so that it danced dangerously close to the rim. "Did Black inform you that he and I were at Eton at the same time?"

Harry shook his head. "He didn't have to."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I figured that out for myself," Harry replied. "He is two months your senior, after all, and I already knew that he and Remus attended, obviously. That would mean, barring academic restriction of any kind, or any potential failures on either end, that the three of you would have been in the same year."

Severus scoffed to himself, allowing Harry's assumption a brief nod. "Indeed, Harry, your deduction is correct."

"Well," Harry said, shrugging. "Why?"

Severus looked up at him again. "Pardon?"

"Why would Sirius tell me something like that?" Harry reached out then, tracing the ring that his glass had made onto the table before him, as the glasses' condensation continued to steadily drip onto its surface, leading him to wonder why Aberforth didn't consider coasters, as the slats of wood the table was built from seemed to be rather cheap, as its edges splintered easily. "Why would my adoptive father tell me to stay away from you?"

"Obviously, you're not obeying his request," Severus said softly, spreading out his hands wide, a flicker of annoyance peppering his tone. "So, why should it matter?"

"It matters to me," Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "For... For years, Sirius wanted me to be my father, leading Remus to tell him not to put that kind of burden upon me, and they would fight... I moved out as soon as I could, and yet, I'm back in the fray."

Severus's hands tightened around his glass. "Did they ever become violent with one another in front of you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Never."

"And you? Did Black ever raise a hand to you?"

Harry shook his head again. "No. Yelled at me a few times, when I was caught with my hand down a bloke's pants during secondary school, and again, when he found cigarettes in my sock drawer, around the same time. But that was about it."

Severus smirked. "Black is a hypocrite then."

Harry blinked. "Pardon?"

"His hands were all over Lupin at Eton, and, as for the smoking, he and their little circle of friends were constantly blazing it up, as they said..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose it's not as bad as I thought, then..."

"What wasn't, Harry?"

"Well, perhaps Sirius's reasoning for telling me to stay away from you were merely petty ones, in that they formed back when you were teenagers."

"While our opinions of one another certainly formed during those years, Harry, it was not merely over trivial matters such as sexual orientation or smoking habits."

"I thought you were... You know," Harry said.

Severus sighed. "I am, yes."

"And, as for smoking?"

"Only when I'm stressed to the point where I cannot get to a gym to take out my frustration on the ways of the world by pushing my endurance to its limit," Severus remarked quietly. "Albus looks the other way at the office, considering we're technically not supposed to smoke within the building itself."

Harry worried his lower lip and, unbeknownst to him, Severus shifted in his seat, attempting to hide his arousal at the unexpected gesture from the younger man. "But, it still doesn't make any sense to me... Sirius always explained things at length to me over the years, but now..."

"Now what, Harry?"

"Now he just throws up his hands and storms out of the room. I want to understand, Severus, really I do. It's all become much too much, and I've even started looking at nearby flats, because I can't stand this childish behavior from him."

Severus sighed. "All I can say to the matter in question, Harry, is that Black, Lupin, their little gang, and I did not get along during our Eton years. As for the rest," he said, picking up his pint and staring into Harry's unblinking green eyes, "I suggest you ask them yourself."