Terrible is the arrogance of Youth, and its vulnerability.

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Severus Snape swept through the stone corridors, as imposing as ever. Students, especially first-years scuttling out of his way. At most times, this sight would have filled him with complete enjoyment but he was finally free of his duties as deputy headmaster and the thought of how he had come to have this position still hurt so deep the most days he refused to have anything to do with the memory.

Now, he was impatiently hurrying towards his quarters, he was expecting a visitor but his face was still fixed with his legendary scowl. The end of the war had indeed left him less burdened with bitterness and fear- and a little amazed at the forgiveness he had found from the only person who mattered. However, he firmly asserted to this very person that the children were still dunderheads and would always remain so.

He quietly muttered the password only four people other than him knew. Headmistress McGonagall, the two prefects(1) from his House and,

Harry looked up from where he was sitting next to the fire but he didn't really focus on Severus. Severus swiftly shed his outer cloak, put on a pair of comfortable slippers and sat down on a couch across from him with a book in his lap. He knew never to push Harry to talk in these strange moods, when he wanted to talk he would and sooner or later he would want to talk. Nevertheless the book in his lap remained unread with a long stained finger marking the page at which it was open. Instead he observed the comfortably large room all in dark browns and blues. Couches arranged around a tea table near the fire, not that he often had visitors to tea but it had seemed like a good idea. The warm dark brown bookshelves were all in two sections, his research books and journals in one and interesting novels (particularly detective-stories(2)) which he enjoyed.

The orange glow from the fireplace gave light to these and set shadows jumping and shifting playfully but they seemed to focus most of their roaring flames on the glitter of Harry's eyes. "We were stupid then, weren't we?" he said suddenly, despairingly

Severus knew what time he was talking about but he realized that Harry was not looking for an answer, or even consolation- everyone had made excuses for him, over and over again but he had never made any for himself. All he wanted Severus to do was listen.

So listen Severus did, "I knew, we all knew that however powerful we were, we still didn't have control. We didn't even have the knowledge Hermione did and we had no way of getting it either. But we were so sure of ourselves that we thought we didn't need it and we didn't want to admit that we were scared of what other people would say." He stopped again for a long moment and Severus wondered for a moment if he had not fallen asleep.

Harry swallowed what sounded a bit like a sob, "We shouldn't have cared about that but it was what mattered most. Even then we knew we couldn't have saved the Dursleys" (soon after the confirmation of their death he had stopped calling them his family(3) in any sense). "Maybe if we had brought some news to someone here…" he trailed off. They both knew even an owl would take almost a day to travel from where they had been, and the Dursleys had had a thankfully swift execution, though not painless especially not for Petunia Dursley who had actually tried to defend her nephew.

Strangely, no one seemed to know when-or how- they had actually left safety and fallen into Death Eater hands. Or how Lord Voldemort knew that they could be useful to him. "We believed everything was black and white, you know," he said it softly, shame in his voice as if making a horrible confession. "We didn't even learn from learning about each other- we still thought that everyone was either evil or good. We thought Profes…the late Headmaster," (It gave Severus a shock, the shame that would not allow Harry to call Albus his own. He himself had been hurt by the old man in his life and by his death but Harry had had things to be forgiven and many, many things to forgive. The old man should have lived.) It was the same way with Hermione and Ron, in moving ahead Harry had left them behind. They had never quite been able to catch up and had blamed him for it, as they always had.

He had asked "Have you spoken with them yet?"
"Have they apologized to me yet?" yet he had said it quite calmly. Severus had felt how desperately they wanted each other back every time he saw the three in the same room.

"We simply assumed he was completely evil, the late Headmaster- that he would join Voldemort, we hated him so much we forgot how hard he had fought against the Dark, I honestly believed he would have killed the Dursleys! If we had known better," Harry turned to look at Severus for the first time and asked him, very seriously, "if we had known better, things would have been very different wouldn't they?"

It was such a childish question and Severus felt like withering it with scorn but part of it was desperation, because he himself had wondered the same. Had rethought those days out, moment by moment wondering how to convince five powerful young wizards that they were causing more harm than good.

Severus nodded, pinned by those eyes which had suddenly become burning, bright points, the fire in those eyes just as suddenly flickered and became dim pools of light as he lay back on the carpet and looked up at him.

Severus hesitated a second, I write this, he began, not as an autobiography of a great man or a battle, it was the story of a child, of many children becoming adults too young to understand the responsibilities thrust upon them. They did much harm and I began my book showing this private scene because it was requested so by Harry Potter himself. He would not, he says, wish anyone to repeat his mistakes. Severus hesitated another moment and wondered when he had become so kind. He would never have agreed to this kind of nonsense before. He went on writing,

1. The younger students often had problems, nightmares and the like. When it was desperately required; prefects were allowed to call their Head of House to deal with the child.

2. Agatha Christie was a particular favorite, again Severus hesitated before writing down of Harry, Mr. Potter would seem needlessly formal. My own preference was for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

3. I was never quite sure whether this was brought on by the reminder; if not for him they might have been safe. Or if it was merely the natural result of years of abuse, however, I always felt there was something about their interactions that he kept back.
"Perhaps one day I'll tell you," said Harry, reading over his shoulder and added teasingly, "but I'll need quite a lot of chocolate first,"

Excerpts are from "Growing Pains" written by Severus Snape, co-written by Harry Potter; permission has been taken from publisher and authors alike.

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Power buzzed in the little house, Harry had no control over his own magic and the others knew they were untraceable; the Ministry could not reach this house so they were eager to feel the energy they knew would feel like nothing on earth. They helped his control the best way they knew, reaching out with their own powers they showed him to sort out his own spells.

"This is," Apollo explained lazily, "the most difficult thing to understand for anyone who isn't born with mage powers,"

Harry could well believe it, the others sitting around had laughed at his amazement when he had realized that there were no fixed words to activate spells. And that each spell you ever created whether it be to kill a hyperactive Dark Lord or create an amusement park out of chocolate would become an almost living part of you. They would talk to you and try to help you.

Siri sat near the window-sill stroking the plants in the window-boxes. Harry still wasn't quite comfortable with his old friend in this new, confident guise. They had talked earlier and Harry had felt especially uncomfortable about fainting twice but everyone else seemed happy to forget about it. He still wasn't sure what they did though, and he asked now.

"I have, for various reasons," Apollo shrugged delicately, "inherited most of my family's vast estates. I take care of them."

Harry had almost forgotten about Lucius Malfoy ending up in jail. A day ago needling Draco about it would have been a highlight of his day but he had accepted a truce.

Luc said, "I could always draw rather well, my mum and dad," here he stopped suddenly as if with pain and his eyes darkened for a moment before he went on, "my mum and dad had encouraged all of my interests so now I illustrate books for a pretty hefty price. Anonymously, of course," he added the last with a wry glance at Seth who started saying "Safe..." 'ty first,' everyone finished in unison.

"Sometimes, you remind me of Mad-Eye Moody and his constant vigilance," replied Luc laughing

"What do you do?" Harry asked curiously, Ravenclaws were famous for their brains after all.

"I research for people," he explained further at the puzzled look on his face, "if someone wants a specific period of history looked up for a very small detail, or isn't quite sure how to tweak a new potion which has side-effects, they send a letter to me through a newspaper, it pays quite well and I can work from home."

"I work with plants, as you might've known," Siri spoke up, "I have a little herb-garden at the back of the house, and I send people cuttings and stuff. I also help out the local Muggle pet-store with their animals. They aren't nearly as scary as the ones Hagrid taught us about, not even the poisonous ones." He said the last part with a rueful laugh, probably remembering how horrible he had always been during Care of Magical Creatures or any class really excepting Herbology.

"Do you do anything?" asked Seth calmly, "Because you'll need to do some sort of…"

"I write and I get paid for it," Harry interrupted defiantly, Seth looked rather affronted at being interrupted, he reminded Harry a lot of Percy Weasley. "Not under your own name I hope," he went on

Harry rolled his eyes, "Of course I didn't," he was starting to boil at being treated like a child again. The others looked interested, "Where do you write? In magazines?" asked Siri

Harry named a few of the local newspapers and weekly magazines where he had also sent stories a few days ago. "They're all Muggle," exclaimed Apollo with disgust

"'pollo, your jeans and t-shirt are from Levi's, also Muggle," said Luc- effectively shutting him up with an even more disgusted look on his face. From the weary looks on everyone's faces, Harry could tell this was an old argument.

"So they sent the money to your house?" Siri asked, looking puzzled, "Your relatives allowed that?" all the boys sharing Harry's dorms knew how horrible his aunt and uncle were to him.

"Maybe they would've, my aunt," he hesitated and a dark look passed over his face, when he remembered how very kindly she had treated him the last summer and why (but that memory would have to wait. Wait until he had found them) she never had before. "But I had a post-box in a Muggle London office that was open all night." None of them seemed very sure of what Harry was saying, "I had a number and anyone writing to that number box could reach me. I went at night and got the checks but I had to cash them in Diagon Alley. I don't have a bank account in Muggle banks."

All of them looked amazed. Luc gave a low whistle, "Have you murdered someone and I haven't heard of it? You're like a man on the run,"

"He is, as of now, a boy on the run," Seth interrupted, "if he decides to stay here, and find his relatives without informing any guardians who might take over now that they might be presumed dead."

"You mean Dumbledore," said Siri tightly

For the first time, Seth looked slightly apologetic, "Yes, I'm afraid; Dumbledore would be the logical person,"

"What are you blathering about Seth?" Apollo drawled, though his nonchalance seemed entirely feigned, "Surely you can't be thinking of handing him over to Dumbledore."

Luc was frowning, "You never called any of us a boy on the run,"

"With any of us four, it was completely unnecessary," Seth replied, and added almost indignantly, "And no, I'm not suggesting handing him over to anyone, I merely wanted everyone to remember quite clearly that we will need more than a few safety precautions if he is to stay here."

"Why was it unnecessary for you?" Harry snapped he wasn't sure why Seth seemed so hostile but he certainly wasn't going to let him walk all over him.

"Because no one cared where we went," he said tightly, "My parents have disowned me, Lucifer's think he's dead, Apollo's are too busy wrestling with their own problems and Osiris'…" here he looked at Siri who was still looking out at the window.

Siri said even more tightly, "It's okay, he knows,"

But your grandmother, Harry wanted to say, but he had seen his grandmother, had seen the tiredness behind her stern and unyielding face. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened, and asking about it would be cruel.

Siri then turned and smiled at him, "I'm sorry we're behaving like this but it still hurts, everything that happened just began a year ago and we're still mourning. Don't mind Seth, you are welcome here, we're your guardians after all."

Harry nodded slowly, and turned to glance at Seth who still looked stony-faced. Slowly, he nodded back, just once.

"So," Apollo interrupted, a bit too brightly to mean anything but mischief, "when are we shopping for his clothes?"

Harry was gratified to see that the three other boys looked just as horrified as he felt.

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Finally this d—ned story is going somewhere! I'm not betaing it or I'm sure I'll just scratch it all out again.