Severus' eyes narrowed as he gazed at the wizened Headmaster. 'I believe that is a foregone conclusion.'
Albus said nothing for a moment, then: 'Did you speak to the Weasleys?'
'I did. They will go under Fidelius tomorrow, if you are available.' Severus had, frankly, been amazed at the alacrity with which they had agreed to his request. Though the couple had been among the most active members of the Order of the Phoenix during the war, willing to do nearly anything to ensure the Dark Lord's downfall, as well as the most . . . forgiving of Severus' past affiliations, excepting Dumbledore perhaps, he had learned quite a long time ago not to take anything for granted. Obviously, Arthur had wanted to consider the ramifications of such a move more, and he could not blame the man; Severus would have done the same if such a request had been made of him -- not that it ever would. Molly, on the other hand, seemed willing to do absolutely anything to keep Harry safe, even a favor for a former Death Eater, and Severus had been taken aback by the swiftness of her decision.
'Excellent,' Albus said. 'I shall perform the ritual in the morning.'
'Thank you.' A soft sound from near his ear alerted him to the fact that Harry had fallen asleep, head still resting on his father's shoulder, his pale, little lips parted just enough to puff warm breaths against his neck. 'I will let you know if I decide to go home.'
'As soon as possible, please.'
'Of course. Good night, Albus.'
'Good night, my dear boy. Everything will work out for the best, I'm sure.'
Severus could not abide such meaningless platitudes, so he ignored the Headmaster's last words in favor of cutting the Floo connection. A few minutes later, after laying Harry on his bed and tucking him into his quilts, he woke the boy gently so they could do their mind clearing exercises. Though not a perfect solution to Harry's nightmares by any stretch, the Occlumency-like exercises did seem to mitigate the length of time his son was caught up in such terrors, at least, and even kept him from screaming himself hoarse, some nights. Tonight, especially, he did not want to guess what shape Harry's nightmares would take.
Besides, although Severus had very few fond memories of his own childhood, the time spent with his mother on these same exercises before bed each night were chief among those. He hoped Harry would find this experience as peaceful and calming as Severus had when he was a child. Not to mention, he hoped it would strengthen the bond he had with his son. Having not been there for the first six of Harry's years, he never wanted his to doubt again that he was cared for, or that his father was near, ready and willing to aid him.
Despite the exercises, however, Harry woke with nightmares several times during the night. The second nightmare was a new one, of being chased by a big, black dog, all claws and slavering teeth. Severus knew Harry was, in general, frightened of dogs, due to his experiences with one called Ripper, a nasty little beast owned by Dursley's sister, who was another horrid, nasty beast herself. In specific, though, Harry seemed to like Fang, Hagrid's dog, and he had never had a nightmare about any other dog but Ripper as far as Severus knew.
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.'
