"No," Harry exclaimed, shocked. "You saved me from Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! Nobody could seriously think that's an issue..." His face fell. "Could they?"
"The headmaster assures me not."
"Oh, great," Harry muttered. "He's still upset I wouldn't blurt out all my deepest feelings to him. I mean, he hardly said two words when he brought Darswaithe by, and today when he returned my ring, he was even less talkative--"
"If Albus Dumbledore did not think the adoption a good idea, he would most assuredly have not sent Lupin to the Continent."
"I guess I just think things never go my way," Harry admitted. "I mean, I've never had a normal year, yet."
"A circumstance in your favor, I should think. Who would have predicted during this year's Sorting Feast that December would see you adopted by your hated Potions Master? Willingly, no less."
Harry looked up. "I... I don't hate you."
"My point exactly."
"I was thinking I should probably try to call you Severus," Harry admitted, frowning a bit. "But... I don't know. It doesn't feel right. Too many years of class with you. I guess it's different for Draco. He knew you before."
Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "I certainly don't recommend Severus in class, no. But outside of it, you may do as you think best."
"Hardly matters. I'll never get back to class," Harry sighed.
"You will."
"I wish somebody could tell me when."
"Divination not being my specialty, I'm afraid I can be of no use, there."
That observation lightened Harry's mood. "Why'd you take it to N.E.W.T. level, Professor? I mean, what's the point of taking the exam if you're going to earn a score of Troll?"
Draco heard that from inside the bedroom, and came strolling out. "Oh, do tell. Severus scored Troll on something?"
"Divination," the Potions Master growled.
"But anybody can fake their way through Divination," Draco laughed. "All it takes is half a brain-- oh, sorry. That didn't come out right."
Harry had never before heard of a good-natured glower, but Snape managed to direct one toward the Slytherin boy.
"Come on, tell us the rest," Draco urged, taking a seat next to Harry. "I know there's more to the story. I know you could easily lie your way through it the way Harry and I did. So why didn't you?"
The glower got a little bit less friendly as Snape admitted, "I was possessed of some vainglorious notion that I could prove the discipline a complete farce. My N.E.W.T. essay topic was something along the lines of Discuss five different Divination techniques and for each, give detailed examples of prophecies that have been subsequently fulfilled."
Draco chuckled low in his throat. "Let me guess. You discussed five techniques at length, all right."
Snape's lips curled in fond remembrance. "Oh yes, great length, but my detailed examples tended toward refutation, to say the least. I believe my thesis was, There never has been, and never will be, any possible means of foretelling the future. Of course from the perspective of twenty years I can see that my point of view then was overly didactic."
Harry glanced at Draco and was relieved to see the other boy looking puzzled, too.
"I was wrong," Snape clarified, exchanging a look with Harry.
The prophecy ...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
Draco clearly didn't follow the conversation. "You mean Harry's seer dreams?"
"Among other manifestations. But what they have in common is they aren't solicited." Snape steepled his fingers and looked at the two boys over them. "The future doesn't reveal itself on command. But when it wants itself revealed, it will find a way."
"So, what does the future hold?" Draco asked, shifting towards Harry.
"Got me," Harry lightly returned.
"Not going to tell me, then?"
Snape got him off the hook. "There's still the issue of interpretation, Draco."
"Yeah, I don't really know anything," Harry insisted. And wasn't that true, considering how little he'd understood about what the brothers-dream actually meant. It was about his feelings regarding his Slytherin side, really. Just as Remus had said.
While Harry was still pondering that, a package tumbled out of the Floo. Flat, square, and wrapped in parchment, it had tied atop it a small, folded note. Harry started to get up, but Draco grabbed his arm and yanked him back down to the couch.
"What's your problem?" Harry erupted. "It's the adoption certificate!"
"Wait," Draco only said, pointing toward Snape, who was circling the package cautiously, his wand at the ready. A few spells later and he was satisfied.
Constant vigilance, Harry remembered. Sure, the Floo was warded from here to Sunday with Snape's usual safeguards as well as blood-protection for Harry, but it still paid to be cautious.
Snatching the note off the top, Snape unfolded it and read aloud, "Severus, this was dropped at your place in the Great Hall this evening during dinner. I shall speak to Wizard Family Services about their obtaining some more intelligent owls, as you were most definitely not present. Perhaps you would consider joining your colleagues for the occasional meal. Yours, etc, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
Harry realized he was grinding his teeth in irritation. "You're there most days at lunch! Dinner too, sometimes."
Snape shook his head as he tapped his wand to dissolve the parchment wrapping to reveal a simple wooden box.
"What, you're eating in your office when you're not with us?"
No answer.
"You're skipping meals?" Harry reasoned, finally. "Well, that has to stop."
"You," Snape stressed as he slid a document from the box and handed it to Harry, "are not the parent here."
Well, neither are you, was Harry's automatic response, but he couldn't say that now, could he? Not with the adoption contract staring him straight in the face. Each corner bore a small seal of authenticity, and over their signatures was a larger one depicting a large bird hovering over several smaller ones. Snape handed it to Harry, who looked it over with a feeling like satisfaction welling up inside him. Fear was there too... fear of the unknown, fear of getting in too deep, fear of this mattering to him more than it should.
But mostly, the feeling was one of contentment.
"What do we do with this?" Harry asked.
"Thistlethorne suggested framing it."
"Yeah, Thistlethorne," Harry mocked. "She was full of suggestions, wasn't she?"
"That's enough of that," Snape warned, his expression easy to read, at least for Harry.
"Yes, sir," he quietly said.
"May I see?" Draco asked, surprising them both.
"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, passing it over.
Draco looked at it for several moments, but didn't seem to be reading it; his eyes were fixed on the document as a whole, rather than scanning it line by line. Then standing, he handed it back to Harry and said, "Please do excuse me."
Harry thought it best to say nothing at all about Draco's hasty departure. "Here," he said, handing Snape the parchment. "I have a copy already, after all. You decide what to do with it."
Nodding, Snape rolled the parchment up, transfigured a bit of lint into a white ribbon, and tied it around the scroll. He placed it on top of a bookshelf in the living room. "I strongly recommend you keep your own copy in your trunk until you get a chance to place it in your vault. This copy, however, is designed for show. I'll leave it here in case you wish to let anyone see it."
"I'm not ashamed," Harry declared. "First chance I get, I'll tell my friends."