Learning to Live again.

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Thanks to Kei for her betaing Job....

Chapter Four

Remus's return to the Great Hall was met with silence by the other professors, and it remained that way until he was seated.

Albus' blue eyes looked at him without the twinkle but with a diffident question in them. “How is he?” he asked softly.

Sighing, Remus filled his plate while he formed a response. “I'm not really sure. He was actually just outside the entrance to the dungeons when we went out. I don't think he would have made it any further then that on his own. Severus sent me back in here instead of actually getting close to Harry.”

“Does he truly feel that way Remus or do you know?” Flitwick asked.

Glancing around the table he made sure to meet everyone's eyes. “He's telling the truth. He doesn't trust any of you at the moment, especially you, Minerva,” he said softly.

Minerva felt more tears gather in her eyes, and had to ask the next question, a question that she knew was on everyone's mind. “How do you know, if Severus never allowed you near Harry?”

“Do any of you know how a Blood Quill works and why it was banned?” he asked, and sighed heavily at the negative responses he received. “The Blood Quill he told you about has the unfortunate side effect of actually becoming a magical contract in a way. They were banned for a few different reasons, the lesser charges being the actually pain and torture of who ever uses one; the greatest reason is that they force you into a magical contract or geas that is carved into a person’s magical core and their blood. The strength of the geas is determined by the length of time it was used and how deep the scars are.”

Minerva looked up in horror. “Harry spent weeks in detention with her,” she gasped.

“Then Harry had no choice but to tell you the honest truth. And unless he learns how to tell half truths and to use misdirection, he will never be able to lie to anyone ever again.”

“Is there anything we can do to help him regain our trust?” Professor Sprout asked in a small voice.

Remus glared at everyone at the table before turning it on the Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor and standing up. “If he comes to any of you, answer his questions, listen to his thoughts, and above all else, remember that he is not and has never actually been a child, so don't treat him like one,” he replied, his voice cold, and before anyone could say anything else, left the Great Hall and those in it once more in silence.

~~hp~~

From his position cradled against his professor-turned-father’s chest, Harry was unable to really see much of the room they entered, but from what he could see, it wasn't what he or any of other students thought. The expect whips, chains and manacles and of course the ever popular coffin, with the color schemes that mimicked his clothing of stark black to Slytherin green, black and silver, were conspicuously absent.

When his father settled him on the sofa, and left to whip together a quick breakfast, Harry was able to take a better look at his father’s rooms. The walls were painted an elegant royal blue, while a thick rich carpet done in a mix of blues, blacks and cream graced the floor. A black leather couch divided the sitting room from the dining room and from there Harry could just glimpse a kitchen. Wing-back chairs that matched the sofa flanked the fireplace and another more worn chair done in forest green looked out of place nestled in the corner by a bookcase full of― as far as Harry could see anyway-- Muggle books.

Severus walked back into the sitting room and stopped as he watched his son take in his new surroundings. Amusement glinted in his dark eyes at the astonishment in Harry's green eyes.

“Expecting to find a coffin and manacles, Harry?”

Harry jumped and folded himself into the corner of the sofa for a moment before relaxing once again. “Not exactly, but then I really don't know you well enough to know what to expect,” he replied softly.

His answer gave Severus more information than Harry would ever know. He knew that he would have to treat his new-found son with caution. “Relax Harry, I know what the students say about me. It amuses me to the point that I've added my own rumors into he gossip mill.”

Looking up in surprise, Harry had to smile at the dark humor he found in those eyes and added, “Just to reinforce your image of being anything but nice, correct Sir?”

“Indeed, Harry. We can't have the general public telling lies about me now can we?”

Smiling Harry shock his head, before staring off into the distance. Many things ran through his mind, and he wasn't sure what to ask, or even the reaction he would get if he did ask. His thoughts were interrupted, once more startling him.

“Just ask, Harry. It's the only way you will get to know what's going on around you,” Severus said, placing a tray of food down on the coffee table before handing a plate over to his son.

Taking the plate, Harry settled it on his lap, staring down at the amount of food on it, and felt slightly sick. Scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a small dish of fresh fruit still waited along with a cup of tea and juice on the table. “I don't think I can eat all this,” he said softly.

“Eat what you can without making yourself sick, but do try to eat a little of everything,” was his father’s reply.

Sighing softly he took a small bite of eggs, before asking his first question. “What am I to call you?”

Severus smiled. “I'm not going to push you to call me anything you are not comfortable with. How about you start out by calling me by my first name, and then work your way from there? When the time comes, I will be honored if you called my dad or father.”

“What about Paps?”

Severus breathed deeply in surprise as a sharp pain tugged at his heart. “You remember?” he breathed.

Nodding his head, Harry was astonished by the look of remembered pain that flashed across Severus's eyes. “When I read that letter from my mother, I found myself remembering a few things. Not many, and they are very unclear, but I remembered that I called you Paps.”

“If you wish to call me Paps, or even Da, I won't object,” Severus said softly.

“Sir, how did you know that I needed help?” Harry asked the main question that was running through his mind.

“When the Wolf came up to the Headmaster's tower with your unopened letter, he demanded that something be done to check on you. Albus though refused to do anything without proof. It wasn't until Fawkes gave him his proof that help was sent to you,” Severus explained.

“And what was that proof?”

Severus sighed. “Albus has a crystal amulet with a Phoenix embossed on it. The amulet changes colors depending on how much trouble you’re in. I've only read about them before and had never actually seen one until that morning. It was already deep red by the time Fawkes brought it to Albus, and was steadily becoming darker.”

“I see.”

Any other question was postponed by a knock on the door. Getting up to answer it, Severus returned with Remus following behind him. Pouring the newcomer a cup of tea, Severus motioned for Remus to have a seat on the sofa near Harry.

“How are you doing Cub?” Remus asked.

“I've found myself with this awful habit forming to always tell the truth,” Harry replied with a slight grin.

“Yes, well, that's going to be normal with you from now on,” Remus said uncomfortably.

Harry's head snapped up, and both men saw signs of the old Harry. “Why?” he asked sharply.

“May I see your hand Cub? The one with the damage from the Blood Quill?” Remus asked carefully.

Harry hesitated for a moment before removing the glamour, and held out his hand to Remus, waiting for both men to examine it.

Severus, seeing where this was going, also stood up to examine the scar, his fingers lightly tracing the words etched into the skin: “I must not tell lies”. He snorted to himself. 'Like he would really lie about something like the return of the Dark Lord.' Out loud, he asked for Remus, when he saw the Wolf's eyes glint a darker gold. “Do you know how a Blood Quill works, Harry?” he asked darkly.

“Other than that you use your own blood to write what you have been told, no Si—um… Severus.”

Severus's eyes glinted darkly. “A Blood Quill carves into your blood, skin, soul and magic. You will be compelled to do exactly what this says.”

Harry breathed in sharply, as he looked from one man to the other. “You're telling me that I'll never be able to tell another lie.”

When both men nodded in response, Harry felt the need to curl up and cry. His life depended on being able to lie to those around him. Tears glinted in his eyes as he looked back into his father's eyes. “What am I going to do?” he whispered.

Severus knelt in front of the young teen and placed both hands on Harry's knees. “You are going to have to learn how to speak around the truth. Half lies and misdirection you will be able to use, as long as what you say at the core is the truth. Presentation will be everything,” he told his son.

Harry had to smile at that. “In other words, I'm going to have to become even more of a Slytherin.”

“Precisely.”

Harry nodded his head in understanding as he retrieved his hand and replaced the glamour.

“Harry, now that Remus is here, do you feel up to answering a few more questions?”

Harry dropped his head and thought about it for a moment before actually answering, then just nodded his head. “Can I ask another one first?”

“Of course.”

Looking up at Remus with conflicting emotions reflecting in his eyes, he almost pleaded, “This is real right Moony? I’m not dreaming any of this?”

“Yes Cub, It's all real. I'm just sorry that Lily didn't charm those letters to be delivered earlier. I would have loved to have been able to remove you from that house when I first found out about what they did to you,” Remus told him softly.

“How long have you known Lupin?” Severus asked from his chair, startling Harry and Remus. All traces of his usual sneer were gone; instead, cold fury could be heard in voice.

“Since his third year. And before you ask, I couldn't tell. He tricked me into a Wizard’s Oath,” Remus said softly.

Severus sat back in shock, so much time wasted, with so much pain delivered. “Why Harry? Why didn't you tell anyone?” he asked, the fury leaving as despair took over.

“I tried to tell my teacher while I was in primary school. But it was always brushed off as me seeking attention, especially after the first teacher I told was fired for bad-mouthing ‘kind-hearted citizens’ who took in the son of a ‘drunk’, and for all they knew, ‘murderer’.” Here Harry stopped and reigned in his temper. Looking up at the others he realized that he was not the only not having to much luck with that aspect.

Taking a few more deep breaths Harry continued, “When I found out I was a wizard I was going to try again. This was it! A way out finally, and then I was brought to the Leaky Cauldron, and everyone wanted to touch me, thank me. It was hard, going from one expectation to another, going from hated to loved in a matter of minutes. I found out about being the Boy Who Lived, and realized that nothing I said would matter, people would only believe what they wanted to believe or what told to believe. The only thing that had changed was the amount of pressure I found myself under,” Harry mumbled, not even bothering to fight telling the truth.

“I see. I suppose it wouldn't have mattered to the Headmaster, either, when you told him what you were feeling at the time,” Severus replied in disgust, anger over the whole issue getting to him once again.

Harry looked up sharply at that tone of voice his father used and felt his own anger rise to meet it. When he replied, his own voice went somewhere in between anger and despair. “Thing is, I never tried to tell him, I only asked if I could stay here since I didn't like it at the Dursleys. I've only tried to tell one other person besides Moony, during my stay here in the Wizarding world. Of course it didn't matter to him either, did it Sir?” Harry said, sending a glare towards his “Father” before continuing. “I was nothing more then Dumbledore's Golden Boy, Saviour of the Wizarding World, The Boy Who Lived, or James Potter's son,” he spat out bitterly. When Severus went to reply, Harry raised his hand. “I don't' want to discuss this any more. It's going to take some time to work through my feelings about this and many other things. Please, no more.”

Remus and Severus shared a glance and realized that asking more about his feelings and life with the Dursleys would only result in Harry losing his temper, a temper that rivaled Severus's own. “Alright Harry, if that's what you want, we'll leave it alone for now. We will have to come back to it at a later date though.”

Harry nodded his head in response, trying to bring his temper back under the control he had fought hard to get. It took awhile, but he was finally able to look both of them in the eye without feeling the urge to lash out at one, if not both, of them. Waving his hand over the cup of cold tea in front of him, he brought it back up to the proper temperature and took a sip. “I do have a question about my knee that I would like answered,” he said, his voice soft once again.

“Of course Harry. What would you like to know?” Severus asked.

“Why was Madam Pomfrey unable to heal it correctly? I mean, if you can vanish and re-grow bones, why wasn't it possible for her to do the same with my knees?”