Harry couldn't help it. He was nervous. More nervous, in fact, than he ever was in his first Quidditch match. Biting his bottom lip, he glanced down at yet another incomplete essay in his hands. It was beginning to become an awful habit for him.

"Your essay, Mr. Potter?" a kind voice spoke above him.

Sighing quietly, Harry reluctantly handed the parchment to the man. "I'm sorry, Professor," he mumbled before looking down at his desk. His father was not going to be pleased. He could feel the professor's eyes linger on him for a moment or two before the man moved on to the next student.

It wasn't long after that class was dismissed. Harry was one of the first ones to stand and turn to leave. However, a voice to his left quickly stopped him.

"Must be nice to be the greasy bat's son and get away with murder." Ron.

Harry's fist clenched at his sides. Of course that prat would start this up again.

"But, then again, I forgot you're too good for the rest of us anymore."

"Ronald!" sharply hissed Hermione, strangely sounding very much like Ron's mother.

"Oh, come off it," Ron scoffed. "Come to think of it. You're no better than he is either."

Instinctively, Harry took a threatening step towards his ex-best friend with every intention to knock the git flat on his backside.

"Is there a problem here, gentleman?" cut in their professor suddenly, his knowing green eyes darting between the both of them. He forced his smile when neither answered. "Excellent. Then you best be on your way, hmm?"

"Yes, Professor." The boys dutifully turned to leave in opposite directions.

"Mr. Potter, a moment, please?" spoke up the professor once more.

Harry caught the pained look Hermione had given him before she continued on to her next class. His head hung as he heard the shuffling of feet from the others as they left him alone with the professor.

"Professor Lupin, I—" Harry's mouth closed the moment he saw the man's raised hand. His professor was right. Apologies wouldn't do any good here.

"I take it the reason you didn't complete your essay is that you've been spending all your time in the hospital wing, yes?"

Harry nodded and glanced at the floor again.

"Aurora is lucky to have you care so deeply for her."

A tiny smile graced the young man's lips at his professor's words.

"However," Lupin continued, "I'm certain she would not be pleased to see your grades suffering because of her either."

The smile fell once more. "Yes, sir."

"Nor would your father for that matter."

Harry winced inwardly and said nothing.

"If I were to ask your other teachers about your latest schoolwork, would they tell me you haven't been completing their work either?"

Forcing his eyes to meet his professor's, Harry replied quietly, "All but my father, yes."

"I see."

The young man swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat.

"Perhaps I should speak to your father—"

"NO!" Harry cried out, latching onto Lupin's forearms. "Please, please, Professor, I'll do better. I promise. Please. Don't tell him. I'll do better. I will."

Lupin's eyes narrowed on him even more before he finally inclined his head. "As you wish."

Harry sighed in relief.

"But you must answer something for me first."

"What?" Harry blinked at the older man.

"Answer a question, and I will not speak with your father about this. Do we have a deal?"

Staring at the older man, Harry tried to think of all the possible questions and consequences it could have for him. If Lupin asked about the Dursleys—but how would the professor know about them anyway—so that was likely not going to be asked. Maybe he'd ask about how it was possible that he wasn't James Potter's son—but why would Lupin care about that?

"I promise it's not a difficult question to answer, Harry," Lupin replied with a thin smile.

"All right," Harry replied as he stuffed his hand into his pocket, his fingers curling around his wand. If this were a trick, he'd be ready for it.

"Are you happy?"

"Am I happy?" Harry repeated, feeling very confused by the question.

"Yes. Are you happy living with your father?"

And just like that, the lightbulb switched on. No matter what his father did to rid himself of his past, there would always be people like Lupin and Ron out there bringing it right back up.

"Why? Because he's the greasy bat of the dungeons?" Harry snapped back, his temper flaring. "I'm sick and tired of people like you and Ron calling him that. He's ten times the man you'll ever be, Professor. More than that, in fact." He shook his head in disgust. Why couldn't they all get it through their thick skulls that things were not always what they appeared to be? "You know nothing about him, so how dare you—"

"Severus, what a surprise," Lupin interrupted with an amused smile on his lips.

Harry's mouth snapped shut before his eyes darted to the doorway. There was his father holding a smoking goblet.

"Why are you not in class?" his father asked, ignoring Lupin for the moment.

"I'm afraid that's my doing. I asked Harry to remain behind so that I could speak with him privately about his essay."

"Oh?" His father's eyes narrowed even more on Harry.

Unable to endure his father's scrutiny any longer, the truth burst from the young man's lips.

"I didn't finish it. I didn't finish any of my essays last night. I-I'm sorry, Dad. I-I know. I know that doesn't help. I should have finished them. I should've done better. I'm sorry." He felt the pit grow in his stomach once more. This was it. His father would leave him. He had broken the rules. He would be given back to the Dursleys now. He had ruined everything. Again.

"Breathe, brat," his father grumbled next to him as strong arms quickly wrapped around the panicking child. "You've ruined nothing."

"But I-I-I have," Harry spit out through shaky breaths. "One thing you asked of—of me, and I didn't do it. I'm sorry."

"Enough," his dad cut in, grabbing Harry's face with his hand and forcing him to look up. "You are my son, Harry. While I'm extremely disappointed with your actions, that hardly warrants you being returned to those idiots. Do you understand me, child?"

The words 'You are my son' echoed in Harry's mind, though. His son. He was Severus Snape's son. Who would have thought that'd be something he'd be so happy to hear? That he had a father? One who loved him beyond all measures. Loved.

"Do you understand me, Harry?"

The young boy blinked once as he slowly regained control of himself again. "Yes."

"Good." His father then released him and stood straight again. "I would appreciate it, Lupin, if you would take your potion without me having to remind you all the time."

"Of course. My apologies," replied the professor quietly before he downed the last little bit of his smoking potion. "You have enough to worry about without me adding to it."

"Indeed." Severus then grabbed the empty goblet from Lupin.

"How is Aurora today anyway?" Lupin asked cheerfully. "I thought about visiting her later."

With no warning whatsoever, Harry found himself watching his father slam Lupin back against the wall with his wand pressed deep into the other man's neck.

"Stay away from her, Lupin," his father snarled with bared teeth. "I will not warn you again. Or do you want more reminders of what happens when you cross me?"

Harry watched the blood vanish from his professor's face instantly. They clearly had more history than either of them had ever admitted. The young man made a note to ask his mum later. She'd know what that was all about. He'd just leave out the fact his dad had threatened Lupin over her.

"Go to class," his father ordered, leaving no room for argument. Harry did as he was told.