Harry hated to admit it, but it had taken a couple years for him to realize exactly what Snape had done in his third year. He knew that Snape had seemed to shield him, Ron, and Hermoine from Remus when he’d changed into the werewolf. There was a reluctant kind of admiration for that. Adults didn’t have the best track record when it came to protecting him. Even if Snape was a complete git in class that he just wanted to shut up, Harry had moved him to An Okay Adult That Will Protect Me. And when Moody that had always seemed to be on his side turned out to be a death eater out for his blood? Well, everything he thought he knew was on his head. Maybe Snape wasn’t that good of adult that would always protect him.

It wasn’t until fifth year that Harry find out just how big of a deal with it. Remus had almost attacked Snape over some “prank” Sirius had pulled. He’d stood up to the same werewolf that had almost killed him when he was Harry’s age.

He knocked on Snape’s door. For all he knew Snape could still be mad at him for peeking on his memories. Was confronting Snape about something that happened in third year worth the risk? The door opened before he could even knock. Snape glared down at him. “What do you want Potter?”

“You hate werewolves.”

Snape blinked.

“And you put yourself between us and Remus.”

Snape seemed on the edge of closing the door on him.

“I don’t know if I ever saved thank you.”

“Save it, Potter. It doesn’t change anything.” Snape takes a step back, closing the door. Well. Nothing had changed. But Harry wasn’t sure he could look at Snape the same way again. There was a little bit of Gryffindor in the dungeon bat.