Hermione sat in the corner reading a book she'd found in Ginny's room while Harry and Ron played a few games of Exploding Snap after tea.

Ginny stuck her head in to give them a wan smile and a little jerk of her head at Hermione, who got up and followed her.

There hadn't been much conversation between them all afternoon. Hermione had been relieved to hear about Snape's about-face but she kept giving Harry those oddly furtive looks. He began to wonder if she might have guessed about his little hanging stunt.

Snape was still being a puzzle. There was no way he should have given in that easily, and so Harry felt on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Hey, where's Scabbers?" asked Harry suddenly, realizing that he hadn't seen Ron's rat since he'd gotten to the Burrow.

Ron looked up at him and sighed, frowning morosely. "He disappeared the night Ginny… got sick… I think Crookshanks got him."

"Oh, mate. I'm sorry," replied Harry, meaning it. "I didn't know."

The other boy shrugged. "He was a bit pathetic. And after everything else… ."

"Yes, but that's rough," Harry said, upset with himself. He couldn't believe he'd been such a rotten friend that he hadn't noticed until now that Ron's pet had disappeared. He remembered how bad he felt when Snuffles was gone. An idea occurred to him. "How do you know Crookshanks got him?"

"That cat's had it in for Scabbers since Hermione got him," Ron said darkly. He glowered at the cards for a moment, before sighing, "Well, I know she feels really bad about it. It's not her fault that Sirius Black got into the tower and her cat got in too." He paused and then added more softly, "She's been good for Ginny to talk to. And we owe her a Life Debt. She's been over about once a week since we got home."

"You know," Harry said slowly, "Snuffles went missing and turned back up. Maybe all the stuff happening just made Scabbers hide?"

"Could be." Ron's face brightened a bit and Harry was glad he'd spoken. "There's lots of places for him to hide in the tower."

They played quietly for a few more minutes. Harry looked at Ron. "So how are Life Debts different from the Tribua stuff?"

Ron shrugged, throwing out a card, which exploded with a little pop. "I guess it's more ordinary, you know? Basically, it means Ginny owes Hermione her life, but it's not a Bondage spell. It doesn't make her forfeit her rights or anything."

"What do you mean?"

Ron glanced up as if to make sure no one was listening. "Bill was doing his nut on the quiet. He and Dad-they wanted to get Snape to marry Ginny so he couldn't turn her into his house-elf or something."

"Huh."

"Mum kept telling them not to worry so much." Ron smirked. "That was funny, usually it's Mum who's worrying."

Dumbledore had said something to Harry at the end of his first year about Snape owing James Potter a Life Debt and how that made the man save Harry's life. Did that mean he owed Snape a Life Debt now?

He owed the man something, he was sure.

"So, it was okay, living with Snape?" It was the first time Ron had asked outright.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to sound offhand. "You know his dad was a Muggle?"

Ron goggled at him. "No, really?"

Harry nodded. "He's even got a telephone and a stereo at his house. He watches television too, sometimes."

"Wicked." Ron grinned. "I'd've thought he had a drafty old castle or something."

"No, it was pretty nice actually," Harry said. Once I cleaned it up, he didn't add. He threw out another card and this time his was the one to go off with a bang. "Hermione would love it, he's got books everywhere. Some of them are good. I found a copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles." He didn't mention Tales of Beadle the Bard; he wasn't going to tell Ron that he'd been reading a kid's book. That was hidden in the bottom of his bag still. He wasn't sure why he'd brought it with him; it just seemed like if he had it near, the Storyteller from that night couldn't be far away.

He knew that the Storyteller had been Snape—the man's voice was unmistakable. It just seemed so weird. Snape would probably laugh like hell if he found out how much those stories meant to him.

"Snape's really different away from school, then?" Ron asked.

Thinking of the Storyteller, Harry nodded. He wasn't about to tell Ron about that, though. "He's been different all year." He shrugged. "Neville… " he hesitated; this was the first time he'd spoken of Neville to Ron since he died. "I think Neville really upset him." That was really the only reason Harry could imagine for Snape's change in attitude towards him.

Ron nodded, not meeting his eyes. He swiped one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. Tactfully, Harry pretended not to notice.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasely stuck her head in the door. "Professor Snape wonders if he can have a word. He's on the back porch."

Harry nodded, getting up from where he'd been sitting on the floor. At Ron's quizzical expression, Harry said, "He had other things he wanted to talk about."

The boy trotted down the stairs trying to quell the nervous flutter in his stomach.

Professor Snape was sitting on the little porch Mrs. Weasley had spelled into existence. A huge silver animal was standing in front of Snape's chair.

A deer, Harry realized. It lifted its head to gaze at him as he came out of the back door. It had huge eyes and tiny antler spikes no larger than the ends of its ears. It must be a stag, then.

The thing would have been too large for the space if it had been solid. Snape seemed to be just looking at it.

The professor looked over his shoulder to follow the deer's gaze. "Harry," he said, "come in." He turned and banished the creature with an absent flick of his wand and a muttered "Finite."

"What was that?" asked Harry, as the beautiful phantasm faded.

"It's called a Patronus," Snape said softly. "It's especially useful against Dementors."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what to say to that.

A second chair was separated from Snape's by an end table that had a tea tray with tea and biscuits on top of it. Snape waved to it. "Sit down, Harry." He paused a beat. "How are you doing?" His voice was soft.

A little nonplussed at the question, the boy shrugged. "Fine," he said automatically. That was the kind of question Lupin kept asking him. He'd been relieved that Lupin hadn't shown back up, thoroughly tired of the man's constant questions about Harry's feelings. Snape usually asked questions about practical or specific things.

The man turned his you're-a-bug look onto him. Something about his face made Harry very uneasy. His eyes glittered with something that Harry didn't recognize. After a minute, he realized that Snape looked almost frightened.

"That was a stupid question, I suppose," Snape muttered irritably.

Harry kept quiet, figuring it was rhetorical.

"I wanted to speak to you about a few things," Snape said, but he didn't say anything further.

The boy sat quietly, his stomach clenching. He had no idea what could be the reason for a build-up like this.

The man's face went from that weird frightened look to almost horrified. "It occurs to me, Harry," he said in a low voice, "I really don't know how well acquainted you are with… certain facts… about… well… " Snape cleared his throat. "That is to say, I have no idea what the state of sexual education would be in the Muggle world." The man's cheeks flushed to an almost painful-looking red.

Oh dear god, thought Harry, mortified. Does he want to give me The Talk? Nothing would be more embarrassing than that. Harry had listened in on Vernon's discussions with Dudley, usually when they were sitting in front of the telly and Petunia was out for the evening. That was awkward enough, but this?

"It's okay, Professor," Harry said quickly, before the man could continue. "They tell us all about that in Muggle school." That was stretching it a bit, but that was all right; Vernon had gone on at length to Dudley about not letting some girl trap him into marriage. He went on so Snape couldn't interrupt, "And the twins apologized for teasing me and I didn't really get that freaked out and since I don't have to be engaged to Ginny—I don't even have a girlfriend. Aunt Petunia… well… she said… anyway… She was pretty… erm… graphic." The boy's face started to heat up. "You know… about how my mum got herself in trouble and if I ever did that to some girl, I wouldn't need the girl's father to kill me. She'd do it for him."

Snape stared at him, with that unplaceable expression. It occurred to Harry that he actually didn't know much about the Wizarding world when it came to this stuff. He'd just found out that arranged marriages were apparently common. Who knew what other customs no one had mentioned to him?

"So, uh, yeah… I sort of have some idea of the… er… mechanics," he finished lamely.

Snape sighed, maybe in relief? "This is awkward enough," the man muttered, "without having to explain the plumbing."

"Er… what?" asked Harry, feeling completely baffled.

The professor's black eyes caught his. In the dim light of a single lamp, the man's eyes seemed bottomless. He looked at Harry very seriously before saying, "I need you to listen to what I have to say to the very end. It is something that will undoubtedly upset you."

"What?" demanded Harry, before catching himself. "Sir?" he added grudgingly, reckoning it wouldn't hurt to be polite.

Snape looked away, directing his gaze out of the windows, though it was fully dark now, "Do you remember me telling you that your mother went through some effort to conceive you?" he asked in a low voice.

Harry felt his face pale. That night, he'd babbled at The Storyteller about what Aunt Petunia used to say, not realizing he was spouting off to Snape. And then again when Snape had slipped him a truth potion. The memory of the man holding his hand gave Harry a funny, tight flutter in his chest. "If you needed a delicate potion, to whom would you go?" Snape had asked.

Numbly the child nodded. He just knew that Snape was going to tell him it was all a comforting lie, just to get him through that night.

"You should know that the trouble they had conceiving lay with James Potter, not your mother. They'd been trying for over a year. The potion I made for her… " Snape trailed off, caught Harry's eyes, then looked away again, "It is commonly used by women whose husbands are infertile." He was speaking more quickly now, as if to just get it out. "It's not unlike a Polyjuice potion. However, the effects are permanent. The woman takes it so that her child will resemble her husband rather than the child's biological father."

"So… what… ? Like sperm donation?" Harry had seen something about that on the telly once.

The professor relaxed a little, "Yes, yes, precisely." The man's speech took on the tone of voice he usually had when one of the Slytherins answered a question correctly, "According to Wizarding law, a man's wife's child is automatically counted as his magical and legal heir, unless he disinherits the child. However, your presumed father… well… given that he is deceased, only a blood relative can take custody of you without it going before the Wizengamot."

"I was the only one who could do it, and do it quietly." Harry remembered those words from a lifetime ago. His mind slowly churned into motion, as he tried to decipher what the man was trying to tell him.

"So, you're related to me somehow?" Harry said the words quietly, only then remembering some of the odd things Snape had said, especially since the whole hanging incident.

"Go to sleep, son."

"I have every right, I'm the boy's fa-"

"The boy's father."

A wild fit of hysteria nearly made Harry burst into giggles. He remembered an American film Dudley and his friends were fond of. The black shrouded villain told the hero in some climactic scene, "I am your father." As Harry remembered, it the poor hero had ended up hanging in space by his knees. He couldn't remember the rest of it.

He choked the giggles down, managing to only give voice to a snort. He looked down at his hands, took three or four deep breaths before looking back up at his guardian.

Snape sat rigidly upright in the comfortable chair; his hand was curled around the top of his cane, gripping it so hard that his knuckles were white. His mouth was a tight-lipped line.

Very slowly, feeling the need to be absolutely clear, Harry said, "So, you're saying that James Potter wasn't really my dad."

Something twisted in Snape's face. "No. I'm saying that, had Potter lived, he would have been your father in every way that counted," he paused a beat, "but since your placement was… unsuitable… I have exercised my rights as your closest living blood relative. To answer your question, I am your—your biological father. Since I have officially claimed you, you are now my legal and magical heir."

"Did… did my… did James Potter know about this?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"No," Snape said. "Although I do believe your mother told him before they were killed."

"So, you and my mother… you did some magical rite or something? And made my mother pregnant that way?" Harry's stomach was starting to tie itself in knots.

"I made the potion for her," Snape said, his eyes averted.

"So, you and my mother… you and her… ?"

The man's bright red cheeks were answer enough.

"So Marge was right," Harry hissed. The teapot cracked. "She was just a common little slag who'd sleep with anything that looked at her twice."

Snape's expression darkened to something thunderous. At any other time just his glare would have silenced Harry, but after the last month, he'd gotten reckless where Snape was concerned.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry growled.

"It may be that, given that the Dursleys were so publically arrested, it will get back to the Wizarding world. If that happens, there would be petitions to put you with a wizard family. In all likelihood, this would get out."

"So, the whole world will know that my mother was a bloody little slut?" Harry jumped up from his chair, his fists clenched.

Snape rose too, "Don't you speak of your mother like that!" he snapped.

"Why not?" shouted Harry, "That's what she was!" His heart was racing and angry tears were leaking from his eyes. "You! You put one over on my father because you hated him, didn't you? I bet you laughed like hell. Yeah… you never competed with… " The child realized he had no idea what to call James Potter now. "With him for her affection because she was a tart just like my aunt said she was! Did you pay her too? I bet you had to pay to get her. And then when she gets knocked up you figure out some way to fix it so I look like… look like… " The breath in Harry's chest caught as Snape took one step towards him, one hand outstretched. Harry jumped away, protecting his head. Any second now he was sure that Snape was going to lash out with either that cane or his wand.

"Harry." Snape didn't move another muscle; his face was colorless. "Please, listen."

"NO." The boy was beyond reason, beyond fear. Like that night with Aunt Marge, it didn't seem like he could rein in his fury. A wind whipped up from nowhere and blew the furniture across the porch. "You have been LYING to me! Pretending that you wanted to look after me. Why didn't you just let me die? You never wanted me! You could have come for me! You left me with the Dursleys!"

"Your mother loved Petunia," Snape said quietly, "It never occurred to me that Petunia didn't return the affection."

Harry couldn't stand being here any more. He turned and tried to open the back door, and found it locked.

"Let me go." Harry yanked on the doorknob.

"Not yet," Snape said softly. "I need you to let me finish." The man's quiet voice held something more compelling than his harsh tones.

Unwillingly, the boy turned around. He lifted his chin and glared at the tall man. "There's not anything left to say."

Snape leaned heavily on his cane. He looked older than Dumbledore at that second. "Harry… listen… It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never wanted you to know."

"Of course not. You didn't want anyone to know you were fucking somebody's wife."

"Mind your tongue!" Snape drew himself up and took a step towards Harry.

"You can do it, but I can't say it?" Tired of the man's games, Harry recklessly disregarded the man's warning tone, "You and her…!" His stomach turned over at the very thought. Petunia had been right all along. Not knowing what else to do with his ire and his humiliation, Harry turned around and slammed his fist into the wall.

"Stop that. Now!" growled Snape, moving more quickly than he had been of late; he caught Harry's wrist in a firm grip, preventing him from hitting the wall again. He turned Harry around to face him.

The man was much too close. Harry suddenly became sensible of the danger he was in. Vernon would have already throttled him.

"Harry. You can't keep doing this." Snape sighed, still holding Harry's wrist. "Madam Pomfrey fixed it when she did your neck, but you'll break it again if you continue. Mrs. Weasley will not appreciate fixing self-inflicted injuries."

Dammit, Snape did not play fair.

Harry felt sick. He leaned against the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, pulling his arm from Snape's grip. He put his head on his knees and hid his face in his arms. He felt the air stir in front of him and felt a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry." Snape sounded like he had knelt down in front of him. "I know you won't believe me yet, but it wasn't like that. Your father suffered from a genetic defect that made him unable to have children. It's not uncommon in pure-blood houses. Your mother came to me for help. She was my best friend." He paused, but Harry didn't move or speak. "Think of how many wizard families have only one child. Isn't that strange, when they all value family and lineage as they do?"

Harry shrugged.

"I do have proof, should you need to see it."

The boy shook his head; it was all too much to take in. The horrible things the Dursleys said about his parents rang in his ears. "Why didn't you let me go?" he whispered.

"I will not. You are my responsibility." The man's voice sounded choked.

Finally Harry looked up. "You don't want me," he tried to snarl, but it came out as a defeated whisper. "You're just doing your duty."

Snape seemed impossibly pale, like he was going to pass out at any moment, but his voice was steady. "Love can't exist without Duty," he rasped, reaching out with one hand to curl it around Harry's shoulder.

Feeling a bit like he did after Vernon backhanded him, Harry shook his head to clear it. There was no way Snape meant that the way it sounded. "Love? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know if you can believe me… I… have grown… fond… of you, I think." As declarations went, it was weak, and the tone was stiff but for all that it was as if a small explosion had gone off in Harry's chest.

And then he pulled his hand away. "I realize that you will be much happier here, of course, and I certainly won't alter the plan to turn custody over to the Weasleys at the earliest convenience. However, I… "

That was enough for Harry. "So fond you want to get rid of me, at 'the earliest convenience'." He jumped up and crossed the little porch to the outside door. This one opened when he twisted the knob.

He ran out into the dank night, heedless of where he was going or the shouting of his guardian's voice.