1996

With its usual attitude, the Floo spit Harry out onto Remus’ hearth rug; Remus looked up in surprise from the newspaper he was reading. “Harry?” Hiis eyes sharpened as he put his paper down and asked anxiously, “What’s happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Harry demanded right back and Remus’ face relaxed.

“Severus didn’t give me a chance this morning,” Remus explained, clearly expecting Harry’s anger to defuse at these words.

“You could have told me before,” Harry accused and Remus pursed his lips, most likely at Harry’s tone. Harry folded his arms across his chest, too upset about everything to worry much about being disrespectful.

“The Headmaster only told me this morning, Harry,” Remus told him, his voice hardening a bit, but Harry paid no attention.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked intently and Remus shook his head.

“It’s Order business Harry, and you know perfectly well that I can’t tell you where I’m going.”

“Are you kidding me, Remus? If Sirius would have had his way, I’d have been inducted already!” Harry retorted angrily.

“Stop it, Harry,” Remus ordered abruptly, his tone unyielding. “I’m not going to argue with you. Especially about Sirius. And you don’t need to know anything else about where I’m going.”

“You’re as bad as he is,” Harry finally snorted, making it perfectly plain who he was as he glared resentfully at his friend.

Remus sighed and turned away toward the Floo. Harry tensed, but Remus only called for the kitchens and ordered a service of tea and a plate of crumpets.

“Where is Severus?” Remus asked as he poured himself a cup of tea, after the little house elf’s face had disappeared from the flames.

Harry shrugged. “I suppose he’s still in the Potions classroom,” he answered, acting as if he was unconcerned by his father’s whereabouts as he slouched comfortably in the chair facing the Floo.

Remus straightened from the refreshments, the teacup forgotten on the table. “You suppose?” he echoed and then his brown eyes narrowed. “Does Severus know you’re here?”

Harry looked down at his knees. “Erm…”

“Harry,” Remus scolded, exasperated. “What did you do?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He raised his eyebrows and waited impatiently for Harry to explain.

“I overheard him and Malfoy talking about whatever plot they have with Dumbledore and Malfoy said he knew you were leaving…and he didn’t seem pleased that Malfoy knew about it from some source…I was worried about you. And, he’s telling secrets to Malfoy!”

Remus seemed to glean at least some of the pertinent information from Harry’s muddled explanation as he nodded thoughtfully, but his first question caught Harry completely off guard. “Do you know that you’re not actually calling Severus anything anymore…well, besides ‘he’?”

“Huh?” Harry asked, bewildered by Remus’ question.

Remus sat in the chair opposite Harry, a slight frown on his face. “Harry, I know you’re struggling with everything’s that happened, and you have a right to be, but…Harry, can you honestly tell me that you thought it would be a good idea to leave Severus’ classroom without telling him?”

“I wasn’t in his classroom,” Harry muttered sullenly, averting his eyes from his friend’s concerned face.

“Harry.” Remus blew out a breath, clearly frustrated.

Harry looked back over at his friend. Before Remus could finish his thought, most likely one that would have included a reprimand, Harry hurried to ask, “What does that have to do with my not calling him…well, I don’t know what to call him,” Harry told his friend, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Remus smiled at his younger friend. “Why not?”

Harry stared at him. “Why not?” he repeated incredulously. “Are you serious?” he asked. “I just can’t,” he said tightly when Remus just continued to look at him.

“Harry, I know you’re not completely comfortable yet-”

“No, you don’t understand, Remus,” Harry shook his head, his voice very small. “If I call him anything else, it….it makes it true…I-I can’t go back then.” Harry’s robes were tangled in his fingers; his eyes had closed with his confession.

“Harry,” Remus said gently, moving toward the boy. “It already is true.”

“I know that,” Harry whispered miserably. “But if he changes his mind, Remus…” Harry swallowed, unable to finish the thought. But he didn’t need to. Remus understood, as he always seemed to.

“Severus is not going to change his mind. And you, refusing to let yourself open up to him because you’re afraid of getting hurt, is just hurting both of you.”

Harry finally looked up at his friend, blinking rapidly. He had not even considered that he could have been hurting Snape. Remus nodded at him, as if he understood the conclusion Harry had just come to and was affirming that indeed the Potions Master could be hurt by Harry’s behavior.

Without warning, Dumbledore’s face appeared in the flames behind Remus and as soon as he spotted Harry, his face went slack with relief. “Harry…thank Merlin,” he breathed. “Your father is frantic with worry,” and with that, Dumbledore’s face disappeared. Before Harry could even process the Headmaster’s words, Snape stormed through the Floo, his expression thunderous.

“Have you lost your mind?” Snape raged at Harry as soon as he was clear of the fireplace and stomping toward him. Harry stood and took several steps backward, trying to keep a safe distance between himself and the enraged man.

“Severus, calm down,” Remus implored quietly, already haven risen from his chair as well. Snape rounded on him. Wildly afraid that his father was going to try to strangle Remus again, Harry lunged between the two of them, and Snape had to rear back, his feet backpedaling almost comically to stop himself grabbing the front of Harry’s robes in his fists.

Harry stared at his father. Snape glared at him, his chest heaving and then he was stepping toward him again, leaning in menacingly. “Do you have any idea how imbecilic that was? I don’t care how angry you are…how dare you just leave, without any way for me to know where in the hell you are!” Snape roared at him, the shout so loud that Harry wanted to cover his ears as he cringed.

“You could have been anywhere. Do you have any sense?” his father raged, the volume increasing slightly and Snape’s face tensed even further in righteous anger as he continued to shout at Harry. “How many times do you need to hear me tell you, you are not to go off alone, before it will penetrate your thick skull?” Harry opened his mouth to interject an explanation, but Snape was not nearly finished. “How did you expect me to explain to Draco that you had left? Did you wish me to tell him that you are so convinced that I am only just waiting to be rid of you, that you need to run off to Lupin every time something concerns you?”

Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes, unbidden at his father’s words. He shook his head but with an angry movement, Snape waved his calloused hand toward Remus’ table full of refreshments. “That you came to have tea while I was running about the castle like some idiotic first year, attempting to discover if had been captured by lurking Death Eaters?”

Harry blinked rapidly. He bit his lip, hard, hoping the pain would still the moisture. “I-” Harry’s throat was too clogged to finish the apology and something flashed in his father’s eyes, before the man leaned in closer, his voice all of a sudden low and rough.

“As you apparently did not understand my meaning the first two times I said it, I will say it again. You are my son. Nothing is going to change that…no matter how many times you give me the urge to throttle you.” When Harry could only stare at him, Snape asked, “Do you understand me now?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to grab Snape and never let the man go. But Harry was pretty sure his father wouldn’t exactly appreciate a hug in front of Remus. “I-Yes, sir…erm…sir.” Not exactly sure what that had been, Harry’s cheeks flamed and he looked away from the piercing gaze. When he looked back up, Harry found his father’s eyes deeply shadowed and he almost seemed to be smiling, though his mouth was still held firmly in a frown.

“If you ever do something so foolish again, you will have more to deal with than my shouting. Do I make myself clear?” Harry didn’t have any idea what his father meant by that either, but the threat effectively squelched any desire Harry might have had to find out. He nodded hastily, leaving off any more awkward responses and for once, Snape didn’t seem to mind. “Excellent,” he approved and then turned abruptly, saying “Albus, we need to change our plans.”

Harry started, looking around his father’s black robes to find the Headmaster watching them with keen interest. Remus, on the other hand, was pouring cups of the still-warm tea for all of them, seeming not to be paying any attention to Harry and his father.

Glancing back at Harry, Snape ordered, “Sit,” pointing to one of Remus’ chairs. Harry sat, not daring to argue. With a gentle smile, Remus handed Harry a cup of steaming tea. Harry smiled back, wanting to apologize to Remus for being such a prat. He didn’t even know why he had been acting that way. And maybe, just maybe, his friend had been right…because Snape had just told Harry, where Dumbledore and Remus, a man his father despised, could hear that nothing was going to change his mind about Harry. Harry grinned.

Snape caught his eye and at his father’s raised eyebrow, Harry’s smile widened. Snape shook his head slightly though he didn’t seem annoyed by his smile, more…amused.

“What plans are we changing?” Harry asked eagerly, feeling at ease after Snape’s mild look.

His father turned to the Headmaster, apparently ignoring Harry’s question. “Nott knows about Lupin’s plans, Albus. I can only assume others among the Death Eaters know as well…possibly even the Dark Lord.”

“Not Lucius?” Dumbledore asked, looking very concerned but Snape shook his head.

“Not now, when his son’s life is in danger.” Harry’s father glanced at him as he spoke.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure if his father had meant the quick look to be significant, but Harry felt warmed by it all the same. And before he could lose his nerve, he asked quickly, “What’s wrong with Malfoy?”

“You did not hear enough of my conversation with Mr. Malfoy to deduce his little problem?” Snape asked sardonically and Harry flushed.

“You meant for me to hear?”

But his father shook his head. “I realized after you had left that I had not activated the reverse Silencing Spells. A rather foolish mistake,” Snape admitted.

“Who’s Malfoy supposed to kill?” Harry blurted, ignoring Snape’s rather startling admission that he was not infallible. All three wizards turned their heads so that they were staring directly at Harry.

“Severus, I think it would be best to start at the beginning,” Dumbledore advised, the first to find his voice.

Severus frowned as he looked at Harry and his gaze turned suddenly much sterner as he said quietly, “I want to make it clear that there will be some things that we will not share with you. You will have to accept that.”

Harry sighed, both frustrated and resigned before he argued, “If I’m captured by Death Eaters, it’s not going to matter how much more I know. I’m still the boy-who-lived, either way.”

Snape’s jaw clenched and he said sharply, “Do not speak of such things so casually, Harry.”

Harry nodded quickly, but still pressed, “All right, even without being cap—erm…even so,” Harry amended as his father’s scowl deepened, “I could help you. I can,” he insisted, as his father was shaking his head.

It was the Headmaster though who said, “Harry, you can’t help with everything. If your father is willing, you can help with the Malfoys, but that’s all.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but Harry turned anyway to Remus. “Remus?” he implored.

Remus though, after a quick glance at Snape, shook his head, “No, Harry…your father’s right.”

It took Harry a moment to digest that Remus had just referred to Snape as his father, and when he did, he turned back to Snape, who was watching him again, his eyes narrowed. Harry bit his lip and just nodded. “All right,” he conceded. Without further conversation, the Headmaster began to explain, during which Snape didn’t once take his eyes off Harry.

“Voldemort was, to put it mildly, furious with Lucius for failing to retrieve the prophecy at the Ministry of Magic. After torturing him within an inch of his sanity, he gave Draco orders to kill me.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed. Somehow, even after eavesdropping on his father’s conversation with Malfoy, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?” Harry asked, mystified by the mind of the darkest wizard.

“Voldemort fully expects Draco to fail. When he does, as it would be a fate worse than anything he could otherwise to do Lucius, Voldemort will force both Lucius and Narcissa to watch as Draco is slowly tortured to death.”

Bile rose up through Harry’s throat and he made a retching noise as Dumbledore’s words punctured his conscience. A hand was on Harry’s shoulder immediately and Harry relaxed under the touch, though his stomach still rolled with nausea.

“Draco will not die, Harry,” his father said gently and the hand on his shoulder applied pressure so that Harry felt steadied again.

“But, how?” Harry asked, looking up to find his father’s eyes.

Snape held his gaze and then Dumbledore was speaking again. “Lucius asked Severus for help. It seems the threat of Draco’s death was too much for his mother.”

“Narcissa insisted that Lucius talk to me,” Snape interjected and Harry shook his head in confusion.

“But how could Malfoy know you wouldn’t tell Voldemort? You’ve supposedly been loyal to him for seventeen years…” The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled instantly as he watched his father shifting slightly in his chair. “Bloody hell!” he exploded. “Malfoy knows you’re a spy?” he finished, the nausea gripping him again and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop the rush of vomit that threatened him.

“Harry,” his father said quietly. Then, in a firmer voice when Harry didn’t move, Snape demanded, “Look at me, Harry,” as he gave the boy a firm shake. Snape pulled Harry’s clenched hand from his mouth.

Harry brought his eyes up slowly, but the panic wouldn’t leave. “But if he knows about you…what if he tells…and what about us?” he asked, his voice rising as more and more troubling scenarios wound themselves around Harry’s thoughts.

“Lucius knows nothing more than that I am spying for Albus and the Order. Even if he were to find out that you are my son, he will not do anything to jeopardize Draco.”

“But-” Harry objected.

Snape grasped Harry’s hands in his own and waited until Harry stilled and was looking at him. “He will not cross me,” Snape promised, his voice dark. Chills ran up and down Harry’s spine at the implication in his father’s words.

“You would let Malfoy-”

“Yes.”

Harry shivered again as he took that in.

“But if Malfoy doesn’t kill you, Professor…how will you be able to stop Voldemort?” Harry finally asked when he could keep his voice steady enough to speak again.

“Voldemort does not expect Draco to accomplish his task soon, Harry. It is part of his pleasure, watching Lucius suffer through these months.”

Though Harry could understand that, he wasn’t about to accept it as any sort of explanation. “But, eventually?” he insisted.

“Voldemort will have to be dealt with before he can dole out his revenge,” Dumbledore said simply and Harry frowned.

“Dealt with?” he confirmed. “You mean, killed, don’t you?” Harry looked at the other men, surrounding him in Remus’ quarters and saw the answer in all of their eyes. Gnashing his teeth together, Harry demanded, “And this is what you thought you should keep from me? You want me to kill Voldemort. When…in the next few months and you didn’t think I should know about it?”

“There’s no reason for you to have to worry about this-” Remus put in, but Harry waved an angry hand.

“I’m not a child, Remus! I don’t need to be coddled,” he told his friend and Remus nodded easily in assent, which made Harry wish he hadn’t used such a sharp tone but then as the next thought came to him, he turned abruptly to his father. “And, if I am going to have to fight Voldemort, it might actually help if I knew how to do it,” he rapped out, his voice losing none of its heat.

The only sign his father might not have appreciated Harry’s tone was the way Snape’s lips thinned before he answered, “It will help, yes. Did you not think there was an actual reason for our Occlumency lessons, or your continuation of the D.A. group?” his father enquired tartly.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry allowed, “but now that I know…you can train me even more, can’t you?” he finished, paying no attention to the surprised look on his father’s face. “I mean, this is Voldemort we’re talking about, here…” he trailed off as Dumbledore and Remus were giving him very strange looks. “What?” he questioned, looking confusedly between them. “Prof…erm, sir?” he hemmed as he settled his gaze on Snape, blushing as he faltered.

His father seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. “It is nothing. I did not realize the idea would excite you quite so much,” Snape explained carefully, and Harry decided his father was trying not to sound too disdainful as he described how he thought Harry was feeling. Harry snorted.

“You didn’t think I’d want to be rid of that bastard as soon as possible?” he marveled. “Does it seem like I’ve been enjoying his attempts to kill me every year?” he laughed, though the topic wasn’t in the least funny and none of the others looked at all amused.

“Of course not, Harry,” Remus assured him, smiling slightly. “We just all thought you’d be more concerned…”

“Well of course, I’m concerned. I’d be a nutter if I wasn’t worried. I don’t want to fight Voldemort you know. But I’m not going to sit here whinging on about it, am I?”

Dumbledore and Remus exchanged looks and Harry scowled. He knew he hadn’t exactly been at his best the last few months, but sweet Merlin….did they have to act as though he was some sort of mental case?

“What’s Remus going to do now?” Harry asked tightly, wanting to steer all of them away from their speculations about his state of mind.

“Now that my boy, you do not need to know,” Dumbledore told him cheerfully and Harry stiffened again.

“But if Malfoy and whoever else knows, you can’t send him anymore, right?” he asked, peering closely at the Headmaster who just smiled infuriatingly back at Harry. “It’ll be too dangerous-”

“The plans will be changed accordingly,” Snape cut in smoothly before Harry’s worry could overtake him again.

Harry ignored that and turned immediately to Remus. “You can’t do it, Remus. Not if Voldemort knows! You’ll be killed.”

“Harry, the plan will change…I promise, all right?” Harry nodded shakily and then Remus grinned. “I don’t think Tonks would be too happy if I got myself killed.”

Feeling much better at the mention of Tonks, even after Remus’ promise, Harry smiled as well. After all, Harry had a good reason to keep himself alive as well. A very pretty reason.

“Remus, we should be going.” Dumbledore stood up, shaking out his robes. The others in the room followed suit, each rising out of his chair. “Severus, when will the Wolfsbane be ready?”

“Harry and I will finish it in the next few hours. I will have it sent to you.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Wonderful, Severus. Harry, my boy, take care of yourself…and your father, if you wouldn’t mind.” The old blue eyes twinkled as they always did and Harry felt a moment’s rush of warmth for the Headmaster. He still wasn’t completely convinced Dumbledore hadn’t had a hand in keeping his father from him but at least now he seemed to want them to be together.

“I’ll try, sir,” Harry promised and grinned at the frown that overtook Snape’s face.

Dumbledore chuckled and turned toward the Floo. Remus stepped close and Harry’s chest constricted. “Harry, I’m afraid I’ll be out of contact for the next few days. Do take care of yourself, all right? I’ll expect to find you in one piece when I return.” The attempt at levity failed miserably.

“You be careful, Remus. Tonks isn’t the only one who needs you,” Harry said softly as he looked at his friend.

Remus nodded and after only a quick hesitation, during which Remus again glanced at Snape, he pulled Harry into a tight hug. With his breath hitching, Harry returned the embrace fiercely. And, then Remus was pulling away and with one final glance, he walked into the Floo with the Headmaster and both of them were gone.

There was silence as the green flames died down. “We need to finish the Wolfsbane,” Snape finally said and Harry was well aware of the reason for the stiff edge to his father’s voice.

“Right,” Harry answered as he walked back to the Floo, with his father following him this time. Harry took some of Remus’ Powder from the wooden box on the mantel and after Snape had joined him in the fireplace, Harry threw the glittery powder down, calling, “Severus Snape’s quarters-Hogwarts!” With a great roar and a whoosh, Harry and his father were deposited on the familiar blue hearth rug.

“You are certainly well-versed in the use of a Floo,” Snape intoned as he and Harry returned to the lab.

Harry glanced up at his father. “Er, yeah. I’m, well…I’m sorry about leaving, erm...”

“I was simply making an observation, not seeking an apology,” his father told him. He pointed to the mortar and pestle as he instructed, “Finish crushing the Dried Salamander Hearts, if you would.”

Harry complied as Snape removed the Stasis Charm he’d applied over the cauldron earlier and began adding pinches of various ingredients from the vials and flasks he had arranged. They worked in silence until Harry asked tentatively, “You told Malfoy that you, uh, had me ‘under control’…?”

Snape raised his eyes to look at Harry. “I did.”

Harry bit his lip, looking down again at the Hearts he was still crushing into a fine powder. “Did you…I mean, well…what did you mean by that…um, sir?”

His father’s lips twitched. “You thought perhaps I had duplicitous plans concerning you?”

“Uh, no, sir,” Harry said uncomfortably, shaking his head in denial.

“It was misdirection, Harry,” Snape assured him, seeming quite amused by Harry’s discomfort.

“Right, erm…yeah,” Harry agreed quickly, wishing he could stop stuttering like a bloody mountain troll.

“The Hearts need to be added now,” Snape changed the subject, eyeing the mortar. “Adequate,” he remarked as Harry brought the Hearts, now reduced to a fine powder, over to his father. “Pour it in slowly, at an even pace,” Snape instructed. He watched closely as Harry followed his directions; he was being as careful as he could while he poured.

Snape nodded approvingly and then as Harry set the stone bowl back on the counter, Harry asked suspiciously, “You’re not hoping I’ll mess up and the Potion will end up poisoning Remus, are you?”

The same twitch of the lips. “Hardly. Think what that would do to my reputation.” And with that, Snape gave the Potion a last stir and turned toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “I believe it is time for lunch.”

Grinning, Harry followed him. “I was thinking about that. It would work wonders for your reputation with Voldemort.”

His father spared him a glance. “Indeed.”

Harry shook his head, enjoying the exchange. But once they reached the sitting room, he stood uncertainly while Snape called for the kitchens, positioning himself so that Harry was effectively blocked from the house-elf’s view. Snape spoke briefly to the house-elf, though Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying and then Snape was turning around again and a platter of food, with place settings for two was popping into existence on the table next to the fireplace.

Snape seemed to be waiting for something. Harry didn’t move though, feeling very strange as he stood next to one of his mother’s chairs, with the prospect of sitting down to a meal with his father looming up on him.

“The young men in Slytherin always seem to have quite an appetite. I assume you have as well.” Snape’s tone was easy, relaxed and that made Harry even more nervous.

“Uh, yeah…I mean, yes…” Harry answered, trying very hard to quit the ridiculous stumbling all over himself. Remus’ words kept coming back to him, encouraging him. And still he couldn’t bring himself to address the man as anything other than ‘sir’, and even that title was beginning to make Harry squirm.

“Would you like to sit?” The question was innocuous enough, but Harry colored anyway.

Not even bothering to answer as his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth, Harry walked gingerly toward the table and sat in the chair farthest from where Snape was standing. His father sat in the other chair wordlessly and lifted the lid from the platter, gesturing that Harry should serve himself. Harry hesitated but then as his father nodded, he helped himself to one of the delicious looking sandwiches on the tray.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You are welcome, Harry,” his father said simply and feeling vastly relieved, Harry began to eat. But even with Harry’s relief, lunch was a much too silent affair.

--

“Is it ready, then?” Harry asked, two wary hours later as he watched Snape adding a vial of tiny Dragon Scales to the Wolfsbane.”

“That is the final ingredient. The Potion needs to be stored while still bubbling, so we will need to work quickly. Hand me that flask.” Harry handed the indicated flask to his father.

Snape set the flask on the table and then took out his wand, tapping the hot cauldron and then the empty glass flask in turn. “Transfero Wolfsbane,” his father ordered and the entire contents of the cauldron rose up, forming a long stream and then the stream was flowing downward into the flask with a gentle gurgle. Snape slid a cork into the flask and nodded, apparently satisfied.

Harry grinned, still amazed as ever at the things magic could do. “Wow,” he said appreciatively.

Snape didn’t comment on Harry’s wonder. “I need to send this up to the Headmaster’s office,” he informed Harry. “Then we should return to the classroom so your friends can retrieve you when they return from Hogsmeade.”

Harry asked, “Is it so late already?”

Snape cast a Tempus Charm. It was nearly four o’clock. Feeling mildly disappointed, Harry watched Snape banishing all the equipment and ingredients bottles from the table before picking up the flask of Wolfsbane Potion and returning to the parlour. After he’d sent the Flask to Dumbledore, Snape turned back to Harry, his lips set firmly together.

“I trust you did understand this time, the idea that you are not to be alone anywhere in or out of the castle?” Snape asked, almost sneering and Harry was taken aback by this abrupt change in his father’s mood.

“Well, no…I mean, not really, sir…?” Harry started and then sort of trailed off as Snape was glaring at him.

“It was not clear that I do not want you to be alone?” his father demanded, looking thunderous.

“Um, no…I mean, yes sir, it was clear, sir…just…well, but not why…sir” Harry finally managed to say, not at all sure his father would be able to understand his garbled response.

Snape scowled. “Your answers are becoming more and more muddled with each passing minute.” Apparently not.

Harry sighed, hoping Snape wouldn’t catch on to just why he was feeling so muddled. The likelihood of that however was maddeningly low. “Why don’t you just tell me why I need to be under constant guard?” he managed to ask, pleased with his coherency this time.

“I would have thought that would have been clear as well.” Snape told him, narrowing his eyes.

Harry ground his teeth. “Yeah, well, not all of us are as clever as your Slytherins, Professor,” he bit out and then flushed and added lamely, “…er, I mean…sir…,” and then niggled his lip while he watched Snape’s mask slip into place.

“‘Professor’ will do, if you prefer the title,” his father informed him tonelessly, his voice smooth as glass.

“Uh…oh, yeah…all right.” Harry tried to agree, his cheeks flaming in regret, embarrassment and myriad other emotions that Harry couldn’t even begin to identify.

Snape nodded and turned away, the pain not nearly shadowed enough for Harry to miss it this time. Harry’s heart clenched against his ribcage as he witnessed the hurt that Remus had been so sure Snape was feeling. Harry drew a breath; it was now or never, then.

“…Dad?” Snape froze and Harry stammered, “…erm, or…Father, if you would prefer that…sir…”