Harry stood outside Snape's door for a moment. He was nervous. Was this a real detention, or was it one of Snape's fake detentions? Snape really hadn't been himself that afternoon, and that boded rather badly. Ah, well, there was really no point in having bothered to show up on time, only to procrastinate actually knocking on the door.

So he knocked softly, and almost immediately, Snape answered the door. Snape didn't say anything but he looked long and hard at Harry with a very calculating gaze. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. Snape didn't look angry, at least not angry at him. Harry slipped past the somber man and went to his oft occupied chair across from the professor's desk. He squirmed a bit nervously under Snape's cold, dark eyes.

Snape circled his chair twice, reminding Harry of a hawk about to strike at his prey, and then Snape sat down at his desk. For once, Snape had cleared off said piece of furniture and was leaning back in his chair, still watching Harry's every move.

"Is everything alright?" Harry finally asked. "I mean - I'm not really in trouble, am I?"

"I suppose that depends on your definition of trouble," Snape replied, a worried look crossing his face. "I have some - news - to tell you."

"Well, is it bad?" Harry pressed.

"I suppose that depends on your perspective," Snape sighed. Harry simply looked at Snape expectantly. The man would say what he had to when he was ready, and prompting from Harry would only make him more irate.

Well, Snape actually, for once, didn't look irate at all. Harry still didn't want to push his luck, but Snape looked worried. His professor suddenly stood and began to pace.

"Potter," he began, the usual coldness of his tone gone as well, "I'm not sure how to tell you this. I want you to know that what I am about to tell you is something which I have only known myself for a few hours. You have many - legitimate - problems with my person, but I do not want this to be one of them. Withholding this information from you goes beyond what even I am willing to do to you."

"Alright," Harry agreed nervously.

"Your mother and I were quite close friends," Snape began, his voice a bit stilted. "Closer than I imagined, apparently." He raised a curious eyebrow at Harry.

"Really?" Harry replied. "I don't see how this is vital information though."

"Hold on, I haven't gotten that far yet," Snape snapped. "Are you aware of the nature of the obliviate spell?"

"Yes," Harry said. "At least some of it. It erases a memory and it can never be recovered once lost."

"Exactly," Snape nodded. "There is no way a person who has been obliviated can ever regain that memory, ever. It is beyond what can be done." Harry shifted nervously, unsure where Snape was driving with this information.

"What are you trying to say?" Harry finally asked. Snape sighed, but it didn't seem like his professor was exasperated at him this time.

"Here, let me show," he said, bringing Harry to a mirror on the other side of the room. He stood Harry in front of it, as he stood behind. Hesitantly, Snape lay one hand on Harry's shoulder, and with the other, pointed his wand at Harry.

"Take off your glasses," Snape instructed quietly. Harry did has he was told without question. Remarkably, Harry did not feel threatened by Snape's close proximity and the physical contact. If anything, Snape was being more civil than he had ever been before. Harry hoped that this would have something to do with him not having to wear glasses anymore. They were a right up pain in the backside and he would love to be able to see without dependance on two special pieces of plastic. What puzzled him more than anything though was why would Snape do something entirely unnecessary for him?

Laying his glasses aside, Harry looked at the blurred mess in the mirror. Snape leaned in close, also watching the mirror intently.

"Finite incantem," he whispered, and he laid his wand next to Harry's glasses. Snape placed his wand hand on Harry's other shoulder, as though he expected Harry to run at any given moment and was prepared to make him stay there, physically, if necessary.

Slowly, Harry's vision became clearer. He saw what he assumed to be his reflection, but it didn't look like him. His hair was straight, coal black, and his nose was different. His face was longer. Harry reached up to check that this really was him. He felt his nose and cheekbones. Inspection verified that the mirror wasn't lying.

It didn't take a few seconds for Harry to realize that these were Snape's features.

"What - " Harry said nervously, horrified. "What did you do to me?" Maybe this was some sort of awful prank Snape was playing on him? Harry whirled, breaking Snape's grasp on his shoulders, and searched his professor's countenance for some sign of triumph. He found none though. Just a cold mask, graced with fear and uncertainty.

"I took off a glamour," Snape explained, clearing his throat a bit.

"You took off a glamour?" Harry clarified.

"Yes, Potter," Snape replied, actually taking a step back. "Or should I say, Snape." The man spun on his heel quickly and sank into a nearby armchair. Harry never recalled Snape sitting there while he was in his professor's office. He always sat behind the desk.

"I don't understand," Harry's voice wavered as he stepped nearer to Snape and the fireplace. Snape gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite his. Still exploring the foreign features, Harry did so. "Please tell me this isn't what it looks like," Harry said after a moment.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, truthfully," Snape intoned. There was silence for a moment. "Do what you will. Rant, have a tantrum. I won't blame you for that. I can't imagine this is welcome news for you."

"Welcome news?" Harry almost shrieked. "That my mum cheated on my dad with - with you? What did she ever see in you?" Snape simply frowned a bit, but didn't lash out like Harry had expected.

"To answer your first question - " Snape began.

"I've always hated you, Snape," Harry cut him off. "But I always thought you had a few shreds of honor!" Harry got to his feet and clenched his fists as he actually did a fair imitation of Snape's own glower. "Did you make her do it? Did you threaten her, force her somehow? Is that why you were so quick to believe me about Sirius, because you took advantage of someone yourself?"

"Potter!" Snape shouted back at him, his mask down, looking horrified himself. "Harry," he then amended lamely, "let me explain. When I have finished, I will let you be the judge of it. Just let me have my say before you jump to conclusions, please." Reluctantly, Harry sat back down, his expression as dark as it had ever been. Harry couldn't remember feeling so angry and betrayed. Even the incident with Ron didn't match up. Snape stood and began to pace anxiously.

"When I went to consult with the Headmaster about you and Black," he began, "he told me about this - whole - fiasco. To make a long story short, your mother and I were married. She did not cheat on James, and I didn't force her into anything. The Headmaster - apparently - was responsible for wiping my memory of the marriage, you, and Lily, and replacing it with what I remember as reality. He did this to create his spy for the Order, and in order to protect you and Lily, James agreed to make a show of their marriage. He knew that you were my son. To conceal your true paternity, a glamour was placed on you to make you look like James." Harry blinked at Snape for a moment.

"Why did Dumbledore tell you now?" Harry asked, his voice returned to normal. He just felt numb. He - thankfully - did not fee like going into hysterics at the moment.

"Why does the Headmaster do anything?" Snape replied. "And it is Professor Dumbledore. As I mentioned before, if I were to speculate at his motivations for some of his bizarre actions, I would have a migraine. And I believe you mentioned a certain predisposition to them as well, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered. "I think I'm about to have one." Snape nodded, and wordlessly summoned a potion.

"Pain reliever," he explained as he handed it to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he accepted the vial. After quickly downing the awful tasting contents, Harry handed the empty glass back to Snape. "How do you know this is true, then? If you don't remember?"

"For my part, you are enough proof," Snape replied. "But if you wish to verify that I was, in fact, married to your mother, Professor Dumbledore says he has the marriage license. I am sure I could persuade him to show you if you require."

"It's not necessary, sir," Harry said. "If he lied to you for that long - over fifteen years - why do you believe him now? Could he still be lying to you?" Snape settled back into his original chair and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

"It seems fairly undeniable that you're my spawn," Snape said.

"But how do you know you were really married to my mother?" Harry pressed. "What if Dumbledore just forged the license?"

"While I am sure that Professor Dumbledore would have no ethical problem with doing just that," Snape began, "that would leave two other options as to your origin, both of which I reject. The Headmaster may be able to manipulate all of the wizarding world around his little finger, including memories and documents, but he can't change who someone is. You may or may not believe it, Harry, but I am neither an adulterer nor a rapist. I find both abundantly appalling and repugnant in the extreme. I understand that my word is not proof for you, but I have no other means to verify the story than what I know to be true about myself. Take it or leave it."

"Alright," Harry said warily. A few silent moments passed.

"What do you believe?" Snape finally asked.

"Does it matter?" Harry shrugged.

"Yes, because I would like to know what you believe about me," Snape said.

"You loved my mum?" Harry asked quietly.

"Very much," Snape replied, in equal decibel.

"So you never would have hurt her?"

"Not intentionally," Snape dodged. Harry snorted. "Harry, I'm sure your friends and you have hurt each other over things. You never intend to do it though."

"Alright," Harry agreed. After a moment he said, "I believe you. Now what?"

"I wish to extend my - apologies - on my absence in your life for your first eleven years, and then again on my presence in your life for the last four."

"It doesn't matter," Harry shrugged.

"I believe it does," Snape argued.

"No, it doesn't," Harry contradicted immediately. "I'm the same person now as I was last year, and the year before that. If you saw fit to do what you did for the last four years, you better go right ahead and continue to treat me the same way. Just because I happen to have half of your chromosomes doesn't change who I am."

"Harry," Snape sighed.

"You can call me Potter," Harry said coldly. "I may not have James Potter's genes, but he died for me. He knew I wasn't his son, and he still treated me like it!" Harry stood. "If you were half the man James Potter was, you would have still respected me, even if I were James Potter's son. Put the glamour back on. Please."

"I'm sorely tempted not to," Snape began to Harry's horror. "As a sign of my good faith, I will do as you request." With a subtle flick of his wand, Harry's appearance went back to what it had been for fifteen years. "Accio glasses," Snape incanted. "Here." He handed Harry his glasses. Harry put them on, and once again could see. Harry turned on his heel, grabbed his school bag, and showed himself to the door.

"Good night, Harry," Snape said before he had a chance to escape.

"It's Potter!" Harry called back, and slammed the door behind him.