“I still can’t believe that you’ve never seen a balloon before,” Harry said, bouncing one up and down while lying flat on his back on the sofa.

 

“And I can’t quite understand the hype,” Draco said loftily, eyeing the few littered around Snape’s quarters with derision.

 

“They’d have been better if I had some helium,” Harry insisted. “That way they’d float.”

 

“Wingardium leviosa.” Draco jabbed his wand at a blue balloon, then gave it a deeply unimpressed look. “This still isn’t thrilling me, Potter.”

 

“Well, it’s better if you don’t have a magic wand lying around that can use to make everything float,” Harry said, slapping his balloon so it hit Draco in the side. 

 

He glared at Harry, then heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh. “I often forget how much of a Muggle you are…”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Don’t be rude, Draco,” Snape said tonelessly. “Well, I do appreciate the effort at these… birthday festivities.”

 

Snape’s lip curled slightly at the word ‘festivities’, like he couldn’t imagine anything more dreadful than celebrating anything related to his birth. Still, Harry and Draco had been insistent. Harry thought Snape could do with a bit of cheering up, since he’d spent the latter half of the first week of term laid up in the Hospital Wing with the flu Draco and Harry had spent New Years suffering from. Harry thought it was a bit rich that Snape always had a go at Harry for not acknowledging illness when he had been practically forced at wandpoint by Professor McGonagall to go to the Hospital Wing!

 

Since Snape had been sending Professor McGonagall down to the dungeons periodically to check in on Harry and Draco, they’d managed to employ her services in procuring some decorations for the dungeons, including the balloons Harry had wanted. She had been surprisingly enthusiastic; judging by the wry twist of Professor McGonagall’s lips when they’d asked, Harry thought that she agreed Snape needed a little cheering up.

 

It was only a small celebration - between Snape’s illness and his general cynicism, Harry thought he’d have baulked at anything resembling an actual party - but they’d gotten him a cake and some candles, and Snape tolerated their singing of ‘Happy Birthday’ with minimal scowling. In fact, when he blew out the candles, there was something close to fondness in his eyes as he watched Harry and Draco.

 

No one deserved to have their birthday ignored, Harry thought, no matter how much they claimed to hate parties. 

 

“Now, while I appreciate your efforts, I must turn in for the evening,” Snape said hoarsely, getting to his feet. “I am going to try to sleep off the remainder of this flu. Don’t stay up too late.”

 

Harry winced as he took in the man’s bloodshot eyes and pallid features, feeling oddly guilty. “Sorry again about infecting you.”

 

“You know, apologising for the inevitable transfer of germs cheapens the worth of any apologies you give for valid reasons,” Snape said waspishly. “Cease with the constant pleas for forgiveness and save everyone a lot of trouble.”

 

He shut the door without another word. Harry looked down the empty corridor and chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He’d been meaning to tell Snape at some point today about his news - namely, that Professor Lupin was hunting up a boggart for Harry to start Anti-Dementor lessons at some point in the near future. Of course, the minute Snape had gotten back to his quarters they’d had their little celebration, and Harry was well aware of the fact that he didn’t like Professor Lupin, so he certainly wasn’t going to ruin Snape’s birthday by bringing him up and putting him in a bad mood, especially since he was still sick -

 

“What’s got you looking so stressed?” Draco asked, interrupting his spiral of worrying.

 

Harry sighed. “Nothing.”

 

He’d tell Snape when he had a spare moment, Harry decided. Hopefully tomorrow.

 

Unfortunately for Harry, that plan also fell flat rather quickly. Quidditch training was in full swing, and by the time he arrived back in the dungeons after a rather late dinner, it was clear that the man was otherwise occupied. 

 

“You have to let me go, Severus, you have to!” Draco shouted. Harry paused in the living room, and strained his ears to listen. It quickly became obvious that was an unnecessary measure; both Snape and Draco’s voices were loud enough to be heard throughout their entire home.

 

“Under-seventeens aren't allowed in the courtroom viewing area,” Snape said flatly.

 

“But that's stupid!” Draco bellowed. “He's my father, I should be there!”

 

Harry winced, and quickly realised that the two of them must be discussing the upcoming trial of Lucius Malfoy. He shrugged off his cloak and carried his school bag to his bedroom as the argument continued to rise in volume.

 

“The ministry makes the rules, not me,” Snape said.

 

“But you wouldn't let me go even if I was allowed, would you?!” Draco said accusingly.

 

“Considering the way you are currently comporting yourself, no!” Snape said loudly.

 

“Exactly!” Draco screeched. “You’re being completely unfair!”

 

“I fail to see why I should treat you as an adult when you are currently throwing a tantrum fit for a toddler!” Snape seethed. Harry imagined that the nerve in his jaw must be twitching like mad by now.

 

“I hate you!”

 

“Scream all you like, but it's not going to change anything,” Snape said, in the irritatingly calm voice that only served to infuriate angry people further. “When you stop acting like a child, perhaps we can attempt a reasonable conversation -”

 

“Just get out and leave me alone!”

 

Harry heard a door slam violently shut. To his immense relief, Snape did not take that as an opportunity to restart an argument by lecturing Draco about door slamming. Instead, the man proceeded to storm into Harry's room, jaw tense and face red. 

 

“Evening,” he said tersely. “I presume you heard most of that.”

 

“I think half the castle did, actually,” Harry said pointedly.

 

Snape huffed loudly and sat down at Harry’s desk. “Since the trial is drawing ever-closer, we have had several unfortunate conversations regarding his non-attendance this evening…”

 

“Are you sure he can’t just go?” Harry asked. “If he’s so set on it and all.”

 

“Draco does not have the emotional capacity to withstand such an event,” Snape said bluntly. “And, furthermore, he shouldn’t have to see his father in such a position.”

 

“Er - right.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure why, but he thought that Snape probably knew more about all of this than he did, so he wasn’t going to argue.

 

“I simply wish to warn you that the next few weeks may be rather trying,” Snape said wearily, running his hands over his face. “I will do my best to mitigate, but you may wish to prepare yourself mentally for some difficulties around here.”

 

“Okay,” Harry said, nodding. Snape got to his feet and left Harry alone in his room without another word, and any plans to talk about the Anti-Dementor lessons evaporated around him. Snape was already in a rotten mood - Harry certainly wasn’t going to make it worse! He’d still have time to tell the man eventually…

 

But before Harry had a chance to see his guardian again, Professor Lupin was pulling him aside after Defence Against the Dark Arts on Thursday afternoon to tell Harry that he’d found that boggart, so they could start their lessons that day after dinner in the History of Magic classroom if he wanted. Since Harry really wanted to fix his Dementor problem before any upcoming Quidditch matches, he quickly agreed. 

 

Harry knew he was supposed to be back in Snape’s quarters after dinner, but it wasn’t like he was just wandering around aimlessly - he was going to be with a teacher the whole time, for goodness sake! Besides, Snape had agreed for Harry to go around the castle accompanied by Ron and Hermione after dinner on a few occasions where he’d needed to go to the library or had needed to ask a professor something. Normally he’d ask in advance, but Harry could just send word with Draco. It was basically the same thing.

 

While all the students milled about in the Entrance Hall before dinner, Harry spotted Draco at the other end of the room. He quickly said goodbye to his friends and made a beeline for the other boy, so he could pass on the message to Snape. Unfortunately for Harry, however, Draco decided to seize that as an opportunity to vent his spleen about their guardian, and Harry didn’t have the slightest chance to get a word in edgewise. It went on, and on, and on…

 

“And then, he starts having a go at me this morning for not making my bed!” Draco said indignantly. “As if there aren’t house-elves who are perfectly capable of doing that themselves - he’s depriving them of labour! But no, Severus and his bleeding heart thinks that I ought to ‘learn to contribute to the running of a household’ - I mean can you even believe it?!”

 

Given that Harry had witnessed this entire row while impatiently waiting to go to breakfast that morning, he certainly could believe it. He breathed in the delicious smells wafting out of the Great Hall and sighed. Once again, Draco and Snape’s rift was depriving him of a decent meal. 

 

“Sure, he’s an arse,” Harry said impatiently, hoping to get the conversation over with. “But I need you to tell Severus that I’m not going to be back straight away after dinner - Professor Lupin is giving me some extra Defence lessons so I can fight off Dementors.”

 

Draco scowled at him. “After everything I’ve just told you, I certainly won’t be speaking to Severus about anything!”

 

“Oh, come on!” Harry said loudly. “If you don’t, I’ll get in trouble! I’ll give you a chocolate frog if you do it, okay? Please?”

 

Draco’s irritation softened slightly. “Alright, fine.”

 

Harry, who couldn’t believe he was having to lower himself to bribery to get a message to his own guardian, turned on his heel and hurried into the Great Hall before Draco could start moaning about Snape again.

 

---

 

After eating, Harry was dropped off in the History of Magic corridor by Ron and Hermione, and he tentatively pushed open the classroom door to find Professor Lupin waiting. He was standing in front of a desk, on top of which lay a thumping, rattling trunk.

 

"What's that?" Harry asked. 

 

"Another boggart," Lupin said. He walked a circle around the desk, eyes fixed on the trunk. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practise on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like." 

 

"Okay," Harry said, trying very hard to hide his nervousness. 

 

Lupin took out his wand, and indicated that Harry should do the same. "Now, the spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry - well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm." 

 

"How does it work?" he asked.

 

 "Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus," Lupin said, "which is a kind of anti- dementor - a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon - hope, happiness, the desire to survive - but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can't hurt it.” 

 

Harry nodded slowly.

 

“I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you,” Lupin said softly. “Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it." 

 

"What does a Patronus look like?" Harry asked curiously. 

 

"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."

 

"And how do you conjure it?"

 

"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory." 

 

Harry began to think hard on what might count as a happy memory. It definitely wouldn’t be something that had happened to him at the Dursleys… his time with Snape and Draco would certainly do, but every time Harry tried to conjure up a happy memory, his mind immediately got stuck on how worried he was feeling about the trial. Finally, he settled on the moment when he had first ridden a broomstick. There was nothing going on that could possibly taint that.

 

"I’m ready," he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of his stomach. 

 

"The incantation is this." Lupin cleared his throat. "Expecto patronum!"

 

"Expecto patronum," Harry repeated under his breath, "expecto patronum." 

 

"Concentrating hard on your happy memory?"

 

“Oh - er, yeah.” Harry shook himself and tried to focus harder. “Expecto patronum, expecto patronum… expecto patronum -”

 

Silvery gas suddenly shot from the end of Harry’s wand. He jumped slightly, then looked to Lupin excitedly. “Did you see that? I made something happen!”

 

"Very good," Lupin said with a smile. "Right, then - ready to try it on a dementor?" 

 

"Yes," Harry said. He tried to get a tighter grip on his wand, but his palms had gone rather sweaty. It was a bit hard to concentrate on his happy memory when other recollections were surging forth, like the memory of what he’d inevitably hear when the dementor was released…

 

But he had no time to give that any real thought; not as Lupin was pulling the lid of the trunk open.

 

A dementor slowly rose from the trunk’s depths, and the lights spluttered into darkness. The dementor surveyed Harry from beneath its ragged black hood, extended a single, scabbed hand, and an icy chill began to descend over the classroom…

 

“Expecto patronum!” he shouted. “Expecto patronum, expecto -”

 

But it wasn’t enough… the classroom was engulfed by fog, and Harry could hear her voice again, "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything!" 

 

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" 

 

And he was back, lying flat on the classroom floor. He gingerly pushed himself up and muttered, “Sorry.”

 

"Are you all right?" Lupin asked.

 

"Yeah..." Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it. 

 

"Here." Lupin handed him a chocolate frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had." 

 

"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting off the frog's head. "I could hear her louder that time - my mum - and him. Voldemort.”

 

Lupin had gone horribly pale. "Harry, if you don't want to continue, it is completely understandable -" 

 

"I do!" said Harry fiercely. He ate the rest of the chocolate frog in one bite and squeezed his hands into fists. "I've got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match? I can't afford to fall off again! Besides, I can’t go around hearing that all the time. I just can’t.”

 

"All right then, " Lupin agreed reluctantly. "You might want to select another happy memory to concentrate on… That one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…”

 

Harry thought hard, and remembered a conversation in mid December… Late at night, in the darkness of his room, when Draco had turned to him and whispered, “Brothers. I like it too.” If that wasn’t a happy memory, Harry didn’t know what was, even if all of his unhappiness surrounding the trial tainted it with a bit of worry. Hopefully that wouldn't matter?

 

"Ready?" Lupin asked, unlatching the lid. 

 

"Ready.”

 

"Go!" Lupin shouted, pulling off the lid. 

 

The room turned frosty yet again. The dementor floated forward, a frozen breath rattling in its chest -

 

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. "Expecto patronum! Expecto -" 

 

White fog obscured his senses... big, blurred shapes were moving around him... then came a new voice, a man's voice, strained with terror… 

 

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -" 

 

The sounds of someone stumbling from a room - a door bursting open - a cackle of high-pitched laughter - 

 

"Harry! Harry, wake up…" 

 

Lupin was shaking Harry by the shoulders, and it took him several moments to work out why he was lying on the floor. Harry felt sick, and cold all over, even though the dementor was locked away.

 

"I heard my dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him - he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…”

 

Harry suddenly realised that there were tears burning in his eyes, and turned to one side so Lupin wouldn’t see him wipe them away.

 

“You heard James?” Lupin rasped.

 

“Yeah…” Harry turned to face him again. “Wait - you knew him, then?”

 

“I - I did, as a matter of fact,” Lupin said eventually. “We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry -”

 

“Severus never talks about my dad,” he said softly. Lupin looked at him inquisitively, so Harry pressed on. “He does about my mum, but never him. I don’t think he can - not pleasantly, anyway. They didn’t get along.”

 

“That much is certainly true,” Lupin murmured.

 

There was an aching longing in Harry’s chest. “But you and my dad were friends?” 

 

Lupin hesitated, and then nodded. “Quite good friends. I… I miss him often. He… well, James was a remarkable man.”

 

From the way that Lupin was stumbling over his words, Harry quickly drew the conclusion that it was just as difficult for him to talk about James as it was for Snape to talk about Lily. He couldn’t help but wince a little as he took in Lupin’s features, somehow greyer and wearier than usual.

 

“Listen, Harry - perhaps we should leave it here for tonight,” Lupin said. “This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this -" 

 

"No!" he said vehemently. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is… Hang on…"

 

As Harry staggered to his feet, casting his mind around for another happy memory, he could have slapped himself. Of course - Christmas day! He and Draco had had such fun, and the presents, particularly the letters from his mother that Severus had given him, were so precious to him now… even with the tangled knot of worry that surrounded any thoughts of Draco at the minute wouldn’t taint this, Harry thought.

 

"Ready?" Lupin said. "Concentrating hard? All right - go!" 

 

He popped open the lid of the trunk yet again, and the dementor rose out of it. Harry braced himself.

 

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he bellowed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" 

 

The screaming inside Harry's head had started again, but something was different - it sounded like the time Snape had tried to tune into a Muggle radio station with his Wizarding Wireless. A strange static filled his head, with brief snatches of sound and screams, but the fog hadn’t engulfed him. Harry could still see the Dementor, halted behind a silvery cloud of vapour… Harry’s legs were wobbling, but the shield held -

 

“Riddikulus!” Lupin shouted, jumping between Harry and the dementor. As the professor shut the box, Harry sank back into a chair, legs trembling. He was exhausted, and felt like he’d just finished running a marathon. Still, amongst it all remained a feeling of great exhilaration.

 

Excellent!" Lupin said excitedly. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" 

 

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?" 

 

"Not now," Lupin said firmly. "You've had enough for one night. Here." He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. So - same time next week?" 

 

"Okay," Harry said. He grinned and took a large bite out of the chocolate bar as Lupin muttered a few spells to properly lock up the trunk.

 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Professor Lupin? If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well." 

 

Lupin started. "What gives you that idea?" 

 

"Nothing - I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…" 

 

Lupin's face relaxed slightly. "Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You’d better be getting off, Harry. It’s getting rather late.”

 

“Right.” Harry very suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up - it was clear that Lupin wasn’t keen on the subject. Harry supposed he wouldn’t be either, given the circumstances…

 

“Oh, would you mind walking me back down to the dungeons?” he asked. “Severus doesn’t like me wandering around alone after dark.”

 

“Understandable,” Lupin said. “Of course I’ll walk you down.”

 

He left the trunk on the desk of the History of Magic classroom, still rattling slightly, and strode out of the classroom. Harry followed along, still nibbling on the chocolate bar he’d been handed, mind racing with questions. He’d spent the last few months hearing so much about his mother, but James was still quite a mystery to Harry. He realised that Snape must know something, but the little Harry had heard from his guardian’s perspective had been highly unpleasant, and had left him reluctant to prod for more. The prospect of speaking with someone who did know his father and was fond of him had Harry buzzing with questions he’d secreted away for months.

 

He knew he ought to leave it, but Harry couldn’t help himself. He blurted, “So would you say you knew my dad quite well?”

 

“I suppose so,” Lupin said guardedly. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I just - well, I suppose I have questions about him,” Harry said quietly. “Sometimes I wonder what he’d think about certain things.”

 

“Such as?” Lupin prompted.

 

“Well… what he’d think about Severus being my guardian,” Harry said softly. “All I do know about him from Severus is that they really didn’t like each other, so… Well, I don’t know.  Sometimes I worry.”

 

Lupin slowed down, then stopped walking entirely. He didn’t respond for a long moment as he regarded Harry carefully. “I think… actually, I know that a lot of the animosity between James and Professor Snape eased on your father’s side as he aged. Lily always held Professor Snape in rather high regard, after all… she never appreciated any griping… no, don’t worry yourself about such things, Harry. James would want you to be happy, and taken care of. The fact that Professor Snape is the one doing that would certainly not affront him. I am sure of it.”

 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, feeling something of a weight lift from his shoulders. It was nice, talking to Lupin. While Harry understood that Snape couldn’t talk about James positively without inducing a brain aneurysm, that didn’t change the fact that he was still Harry’s dad. He’d grown up being told that James Potter was a worthless, unemployed drunk; Harry had heard enough negative things about the man to last him a lifetime. Once in a while, it would be decent to hear something positive about his dad. 

 

Harry couldn’t help but notice that even though Harry was calling Snape by his first name, Lupin staunchly refused to do so. Then, it occurred to him that Lupin was speaking as if he’d known Harry’s mother rather well, too. Before he could even begin to address that, however, they had reached the portrait of Asclepius the snake.

 

“I shall leave you here, then,” Lupin said. “I’ll see you next week, Harry. Well done again.” 

 

He smiled, and quietly said the password to Asclepius. He allowed Harry into Snape’s quarters with minimal haughty commentary for once. As Harry walked in, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Lupin and realised that the man had paused to watch him, too. It was clear he was making sure Harry got in safely. He smiled at the professor, then shut the portrait behind him.

 

That smile immediately fell off Harry’s face when he saw Snape in the living room, glowering fiercely. His first thought was that Draco had started throwing a tantrum again, but a moment later Harry realised that Snape’s anger was clearly directed at him.

 

“And where exactly have you been?” Snape inquired icily.

 

“Professor Lupin was giving me Anti-Dementor lessons.” Harry frowned. “Didn’t Draco tell you? I asked him to.”

 

“He did, but I simply fail to see why you didn’t bother telling me yourself!” he snapped.

 

Harry winced. He’d known it was probably not the best of ideas to dance around the topic with Snape until the last minute. Still, they’d all been busy this week! It had just… conveniently not come up, was all…

 

“He only just managed to capture the boggart we were going to use today,” Harry said. It wasn’t a lie, at least.

 

Snape’s lips curled into a particularly unpleasant sneer. “Well, then… did you have fun sneaking around behind my back with Lupin, then?”

 

“I don’t see how this is any different to me going up to Professor Sinistra’s office after dinner in November to ask her about the work I’d missed in Astronomy when I was off,” Harry said coldly. Annoyance was bubbling up in him. “I didn’t run that all past you then, did I?”

 

Part of him had hoped that the reminder of his missed lessons in November would prompt Snape to remember why he’d been off school - because of the Dementors and their effects, which Harry was trying to learn to stave off. He ought to understand why this was so important!

 

“You also know perfectly well that you aren’t allowed to traipse around the corridors at night by yourself, even if you are visiting a teacher!” Snape added, folding his arms. “You should have asked me, so I -”

 

“I wasn’t wandering around alone, actually!” Harry said indignantly. “Ron and Hermione walked me there, and Professor Lupin walked me back down!”

 

Snape opened his mouth. After a moment, he shut it with a furious click, clearly out of arguments. 

 

Harry wasn’t done, though. The way Snape was acting about this entire thing had seriously angered him.

 

“And just what’s your problem, anyway?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You know how badly I react to the Dementors! Why are you being so nasty about me actually doing something about that?”

 

“It’s just a waste of time!” Snape spat. “A thirteen year old can’t cast the Patronus Charm. You’ll never manage it, so Lupin shouldn’t bother.”

 

Harry flinched back, stung by Snape’s words. Any modicum of restraint was washed away in a tidal wave of anger and hurt.

 

“That’s not it and you know it!” he said loudly. “You just have some kind of problem with Professor Lupin, don’t you?”

 

“My relationship with my colleagues is none of your business,” Snape growled. “You are treading on thin ice, Harry. Watch it.”

 

Harry didn’t heed the warning. “Don’t give me that - you clearly hate him, and I can’t understand it at all! Professor Lupin’s really nice! What, is it just because he has the Defence Against the Dark Arts post? Or - oh! Do you not like him because was friends with my father or something?”

 

Harry hadn’t really expected that last accusation to hold much truth, but some dark emotion flashed in Snape’s eyes before being quickly Occluded away. He immediately knew he’d hit home. 

 

Harry stared at him, aghast. “Oh my God, that is why!” 

 

“That is enough!” Snape erupted, rising to his feet. “You have absolutely no right to speak to me this way, Harry! If I want to ban you from lessons with any staff member - especially with the likes of Lupin - you will sit back and accept it!”

 

“Why should I?” Harry shouted back. “I didn’t even do anything wrong and you’re being absolutely horrid to me, just because he was mates with James Potter!”

 

Harry couldn’t help but completely lose his temper - he felt so violently defensive of his father that it was practically choking him. He had heard his father’s voice for the first time that night, heard how he’d sacrificed himself to try and buy Harry and his mother time, and even the slightest disparagement of James Potter felt like a white-hot strike against a raw nerve. 

 

The muscles in Snape’s jaw were twitching furiously by now. “You stop it, or -”

 

“Or what?!” Harry yelled. “You’ll start talking about how much I’m like my awful, arrogant father again? Oh, what a big surprise! Do you have any idea what it’s like growing up and being told how your father is a worthless, unemployed drunk, and how you’re going to be just as useless as he was when you’re older? Well, it’s bloody horrible! I’m so used to people telling me nothing but awful things about my dad, and the one time I have someone who can actually tell me James Potter was a decent man, you want to take that away from me!”

 

“Go to your room,” Snape growled, jabbing a finger in the direction of the corridor.

 

Harry stalked past him, but whirled around at the last moment for one last word.

 

“For someone who spent weeks telling me and Draco that we had to get over our feud, you sure love to keep getting shots in at a man you didn’t like who’s been dead twelve years!” he said furiously. “I don’t know how you can get on your high horse with us two when you’re such a bloody great hypocrite!”

 

Snape’s shoulders tensed, and Harry knew his words had rang true. He shot one final glare at his guardian before storming into his bedroom and slamming the door as loudly as he possibly could. The minute he was inside, Harry wrenched the lock closed, sank down against the door, and put his face to his knees. Any happiness he’d felt from his success with the Patronus Charm had evaporated into all-consuming misery.

 

Great. He was in yet another fight with Snape. If Harry knew anything, there was now going to be an awful tension lingering between the two of them for days upon days, until someone finally grew too unhappy to allow it all to carry on any longer. He had a bad feeling about this argument, too - it was a big one. James Potter was a definite sore subject with Snape, one that Harry had gotten very used to avoiding.

 

Still, the elephant in the room could no longer be ignored. As much as Harry thought Snape often disliked it, James Potter was, and always would be, Harry’s father. Knowing that his guardian hated the man who had sacrificed his life for Harry’s sake hurt him deeply. Snape, as much as Harry hated to admit it in a time like this, was one of the most important people in Harry’s life. The fact that he despised someone who was an equally important part of Harry made him feel like something in his chest was cracked irreparably. 

 

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Not after Lupin, and certainly not after what he’d heard from the Dementors.

 

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off…”

 

He felt cold and clammy all over. Harry jumped to his feet and snatched a dark blue blanket from the end of his bed and draped it around his shoulders. He then sank down into the rug at the base of his four poster and hugged his knees again.

 

His father was a good man, right? Despite what Snape said, despite what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said, James Potter couldn’t have just been the scum of society…

 

Contrary to what Harry had assumed, it was not days upon days before he would next speak to Snape properly. As a matter of fact, he bypassed the lock on Harry’s bedroom door not twenty minutes after their fight. His face was Occlumency-blank as he leaned against the door frame. 

 

Harry scowled fiercely. “I don’t -”

 

“We need to talk,” Snape interrupted.

 

“I’m not stopping the Anti-Dementor lessons,” Harry said staunchly, hunching his shoulders. “I’ll get kicked off the Quidditch team if I don’t learn the Patronus Charm, that isn’t -”

 

“Harry, will you just let me talk for once?” Snape snapped. “Please!” 

 

He reluctantly fell silent, but only because Snape saying ‘please’ like that was such a rare event that it immediately demanded attention. He wrapped the blanket more tightly around his shoulders and watched Snape closely. He was staring at Harry, too, and something in his expression seemed oddly lost. 

 

“You were right, earlier,” he said softly. “I hated your father.”

 

Harry glared. “Trust me, I’m aware. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

 

“No, that isn’t -” Snape gritted his teeth and looked away. He paused to collect himself before speaking again. “Harry, I quite frankly do not even know where to begin with this conversation. Could you simply allow me to speak uninterrupted while I find my way?”

 

“Fine,” he muttered.

 

Snape entered the room fully, and walked over to where Harry was seated. He paused, and then lowered himself down and folded his legs beneath him so he was sitting opposite to Harry on the rug. He felt an odd twinge of deja vu, and suddenly remembered a similar conversation from many months ago when Snape had sat like this with Harry, when he was first trying to pry information about the Dursleys out of him. It felt like that day had been a lifetime ago…

 

“I know we came to something of an agreement to never speak of Potter Senior several months ago,” Snape began. “However, it is clear we cannot carry on like this… I think it would be prudent for me to make you aware of why I feel the way that I do about him.”

 

Harry nodded slowly. Something akin to dread curdled in his stomach.

 

“James Potter despised me,” Snape said bluntly. “I felt the same in return. I saw him as an arrogant and spoilt, and I couldn’t stand that, or his immense popularity, or his skill on the Quidditch pitch… he similarly loathed me, because he viewed me as pompous, and dirty, and he was disgusted by my interest in Dark magic, and was jealous of my friendship with your mother.” Snape sighed heavily. “He and his little friends liked to bully me - a claim Professor McGonagall or Lupin will confirm if you consult them, I might add.”

 

Harry broke eye contact and began to tug at the rug beneath him as the dread in his core hardened into something worse. Snape reached out and placed a hand over Harry’s to still them, and waited until he looked back up to start speaking again.

 

“I similarly wasn’t an innocent target,” he added quietly. Something akin to regret flickered in Snape’s eyes. “I took great pleasure in tormenting them back with various Dark hexes and curses that I oughtn’t to have ever known, let alone used. There were several occasions where I was humiliated, and retaliated with such force that they were landed in the Hospital Wing for extended stretches… well, I’ll spare you the worst of the details. All you really must know is that it was a bitter, bitter rivalry that spanned years.”

 

Harry bit down on his lip, hard. Despite his earlier curiosities, he was beginning to wish he’d never heard any of this at all… he sort of wished he could hug his knees and sink back into himself, but Snape kept a gentle but firm hold on his hands, and Harry was rather reluctant to pull himself free.

 

“Some say… well, they say that James grew up and got over these prejudices,” Snape said rather angrily. “I suppose, given his considerable popularity and Lily’s affections for him, the man must have some redeemable qualities -” He cut himself off again and took a sharp breath in, eyes squeezed shut. “As I’m sure you can see, there is a reason why I try to avoid speaking of him with you. I am certainly far from an unbiased source…”

 

Snape trailed off completely, and took a minute to collect himself. “Yes, James did change. He grew up and became a… a respectable man. But his improvement in character and his relationship with Lily only served to make me hate him more. I did not grow up or move on, even after his death, and I unfairly took out my hatred of him on you over a decade after our feud. Something I regret deeply, as I hope you know.”

 

Harry nodded slowly. He’d forgiven Snape for the first two years of their time together, but he certainly hadn’t forgotten the way he’d been treated. It was something he tried hard not to think about, in all honesty. Everything that had happened after second year was what really mattered, after all.

 

“I am not a good person,” Snape said bluntly. 

 

Harry stared at him in dismay. “Severus, you -”

 

“Don’t placate me,” Snape said bitterly. “Harry, I am a man of many faults. I can be vindictive, and I hold grudges, and there is so much bad blood between myself and James that I am unsure if I will ever have it in me to stop hating him.”

 

Harry broke his gaze to stare at the ground again. It hurt to hear, but he appreciated Snape’s honesty, at the very least. 

 

“But despite everything that has happened between myself and James… he is still your father,” Snape said. “My own, ah… personal issues, shall we say, should not get in the way of you from finding out more about him. Even if it is from the likes of Lupin -” Snape practically spat the name, then shook himself. This time, he was the one refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. 

 

“I… I do not wish to behave in regard to James as Petunia did when you would ask about Lily,” he admitted eventually.

 

Harry felt horrified. He shook his head vigorously. “You’re nothing like her! Severus, you aren’t -”

 

“Don’t excuse me,” Snape said sharply. “I am simply saying all of this to explain that I think you should pursue information about Po - about your father. Speak to Professor McGonagall, speak to Lupin, whoever is necessary - I will not react as I did earlier. I just thought I ought to explain myself.”

 

Looking extraordinarily weary, Snape released Harry’s hands to rub his temples. 

 

“Er… I have one last question,” Harry said tentatively.

 

“Go on.”

 

“At the end of my first year, I asked Professor Dumbledore why you hated my father so much, and - er - he said he saved your life or something?” Harry said awkwardly.

 

Snape’s expression darkened, and it instantly made Harry wish he’d kept quiet. There appeared to be a moment of great mental turmoil before Snape finally spoke. “Sirius Black decided it would be highly amusing to set a werewolf on me. Your father got cold feet on that delightful joke at the last moment.”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know where to start - a werewolf? Sirius Black, again?!

 

“Why didn’t Black go to Azkaban then?!” Harry demanded.

 

“A good question,” Snape said bitterly. “If you don’t mind, that’s all I’d like to say on the matter.”

 

Harry looked at him closely, lost for words, but so grateful they had at last cleared the air.

 

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

 

“Don’t,” Snape sighed. “We ought to have discussed this a long time ago. I’ve been putting it off.”

 

“Oh.” Harry shifted awkwardly. “Well… thanks anyway, Severus. Er - why are we talking about it, though? You don’t normally find me this quickly after we argue…”

 

Snape’s lips twitched with amusement. “Your Head of House’s influence, I dare say. Professor McGonagall frequently sees fit to either lecture me or assign me books, of all things, on the value of ‘open communication’ and other such tosh… I suppose her influence must be taking root at last. Perish the thought.”

 

He looked vaguely disgusted, and Harry laughed. “Even after all these years, she still sets you homework?”

 

“Unfortunately enough.”

 

“Well, I like it,” Harry declared. “I hate arguing, you know.”

 

“As do I.”

 

They fell into a comfortable silence, both a little bit happier than they’d been upon entering the room. After a few moments, Snape reached into his pocket, retrieved his wand and flicked it. A bar of Honeydukes chocolate flew into his hand.

 

“While I may not know the precise details of your Anti-Dementor lessons, I am certain they must be draining. Here.” Snape placed the chocolate bar into Harry’s palm. “Eat it all.”

 

Harry stared at the chocolate bar and coughed awkwardly. “Er - well, Professor Lupin already gave me some…”

 

“Humour me,” Snape drawled, arching an eyebrow. “At any rate, you turning down chocolate is a surefire sign of some sort of Dementor-induced illness…”

 

Well, Snape had a point there, Harry decided. There wasn’t anything wrong with a bit of extra chocolate. After taking the first bite, he said, “So about the Anti-Dementor lessons. Are you going to let me keep up with them?”

 

“Yes,” Snape said, although some reluctance was evident in his tone. “I suppose Lupin is… qualified…”

 

“Even though you think it’s useless, because I’m not good enough to manage the spell.” Harry couldn’t help the hurt creeping into his voice, and Snape winced.

 

“I’m sure you are unfortunately acquainted with my rather foul temper by now,” he said with a shake of his head. “You know that when I lose it, my words are often uncharitable at best. I do not think you aren’t good enough, Harry - far from it. In fact, I think you are a talented and capable wizard.”

 

Harry’s eyebrows rose with surprise. “Wait, really?

 

A dark shadow passed across Snape’s face. “If I have not made that clear to you before now, I believe I have more to atone for than I realised…”

 

“No, no!” Harry said quickly. “Er - you know what I’m like. All that Dursley stuff and all.” Those words made his mouth go a little dry, but Harry did his best to ignore it. “You know how they sort of, er - screwed up how I feel about my magic.”

 

“True,” Snape acquiesced. “But in regard to the Patronus Charm - it is very difficult for adults, Harry, and you are only thirteen. Talented as you are, you still have a lot of time before your powers fully mature, and given the strain Dementors place upon you, I simply do not know if frequent contact with them is healthy.”

 

“But it is helping!” Harry stressed. “The Charm’s already working, you know. It’s just vapour right now, and I couldn’t hold it for that long, but I didn’t faint for once!”

 

Snape’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “You managed an incorporeal Patronus on your first try?”

 

“Third,” Harry admitted.

 

“Only your third? Practically a Squib, then,” Snape said dryly. To Harry’s shock, he actually smiled. “Then once again, you have proven me wrong - I shouldn’t have doubted your skill, Harry. You are a very gifted young man.”

 

Those words made a warm glow spread throughout Harry’s chest, until he found himself unable to help from smiling, too. “Thanks.”

 

“Now eat that properly,” Snape ordered, gesturing to the forgotten chocolate bar in Harry’s hand. He quickly obeyed and bit into it once more, while Snape tapped his fingers against his palms and simply observed. Harry got the sense that he had something else he was contemplating, and was quickly proven right.

 

“I have one last thing to say about your father,” Snape said in a quiet voice. Harry’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “There are some positive things I can say about James - for one, he certainly wasn’t a drunkard.”

 

Harry leaned heavily against the side of his bed, feeling oddly deflated. Of course Snape wouldn’t let the Dursleys reference from earlier just slide…

 

“He also wasn’t unemployed,” Snape added. “He worked for the Order of the Phoenix - Professor Dumbledore’s group of fighters opposing the Dark Lord. While his work wasn’t paid, it does not change how dedicated Potter was to the cause. Fighting the Dark Lord certainly counted as a full time job, paycheque or not, and he was willing to donate his time and efforts without any financial incentive. The Dursleys are liars, do you understand? Full of vindictive nonsense.”

 

“Well, vindictive was practically my aunt and uncle’s middle names,” Harry muttered with a sigh. If even Snape, who by the sounds of it had rather valid reasons to dislike Harry’s father, thought it was wrong, that certainly said a lot about his relatives. A lump rose into Harry’s throat.

 

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about them - I didn’t even know the day they died,” he said bitterly. “All I got until Hagrid came to deliver my letter was ‘car crash, and don’t ask questions’. It was almost like they never existed. I think Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon liked to pretend all three of us didn’t exist, actually.”

 

Snape’s face was truly stormy by now. He muttered something that seemed vaguely threatening under his breath, then reached out and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

 

“Well, the truth is that James cared about you very much,” Snape said eventually. “Enough to sacrifice his life in an effort to save yours. I am certain he would have been a good father to you, if he’d been given the time and opportunity. Despite everything else I may think of him, that does earn my respect.”

 

The majority of the tension melted from Harry’s shoulders. Before he could help it, he found himself leaning against Snape’s side, anger fading away. Despite whatever had happened between his father and Snape - Harry wasn’t too stupid to realise he’d certainly told an abridged version - Snape had still mustered something positive. That was a vast improvement. Snape was trying, and that was what mattered to Harry.