Chapter 22

Can I do it?

xxx

It was late that night when Harry finally returned to his dormitory. He and Dumbledore had taken a long time getting up to the castle. Their entire trip had been in silence; Dumbledore had seemed to understand that Harry was busy pondering all he'd just been told.

Trying to absorb everything Dumbledore had said was like trying to eat dessert while stuffed full from dinner. His brain was filled to the brim with information and he was having trouble sorting it all out. His feelings towards Snape were more than conflicted; two opposing arguments were engaged in a full on battle within his mind. He hated Snape on a fundamental level; he was a hateful, spiteful man who had bullied Harry for years, broken his Mother's heart, and denied him the right to a proper family. But now, Harry couldn't ignore the sympathy he felt for Snape; he had suffered immensely throughout his childhood and had sacrificed everything in his adult life in order to right his past mistakes. And in addition to all of this, Harry couldn't deny that he had been wrong about the man in the past. He had saved his life on countless occasions; he had watched over him from a distance throughout all his years at Hogwarts.

Harry had felt brief pity for the man once, but now he felt he could actually understand him. Even more than this, there was a part of him that admired him, as much as he wished to push this thought from his mind.

Harry knew that he was beginning to, in a sense, forgive Snape. And yet, he didn't know that he wanted to. Everything inside of him, all those annoying little voices in the back of his head, were screaming at him to push the concepts of forgiveness and acceptance from his mind… and yet he couldn't quite propel the notion from his thoughts.

Snape hadn't simply hated Harry because of who his father was- he had hated what Harry represented. To Snape, Harry was the very embodiment of everything that had gone wrong in his life. He was the symbol of Lily's betrayal, he was the very image of James Potter, with the same talents, looks, and apparent arrogance, and he received praise and attention for enduring hardships that paled by comparison to Snape's. The man had endured inward suffering for years, and Harry wore it all on the outside, and was, in Snape's view, supported by an entire collection of friends and family for it. Harry had gained everything that he had- his fame and the benefits of it because of his pain- Snape had gained nothing. His jealousy- resentment- bitterness- was understandable.

Perhaps Snape deserved a second chance… but did he truly want it? Was he actually hoping that Harry would come to him? Was that even possible?

And could Harry do it? This was the question annoyingly repeating inside Harry's mind; through all of his thoughts and feelings it was conveyed. He didn't know what to think about it all, and every time he seemed to come up with an option, it was countered by the annoying thought of could he do it?

Harry sank down onto his bed, head falling to his hands as he rubbed his temples in attempt to release the throbbing pain within. He heard Hedwig clucking softly at him from across the room and looked up at her sideways through his fingers; she seemed to take this as a cue of welcome. She gracefully fluttered over to him, dropping a letter in his lap and landing on his shoulder with a playful nip at his ear. He reached up to give her a gentle stroke, offering a weak smile that he knew she couldn't comprehend and then reaching down for the letter she'd just brought him. He ran his finger through the crevice of the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the parchment it contained. He brightened slightly as he realized it was from Lupin, and his eyes scanned the contents of the letter before reading it thoroughly. It was asking him about his O.W.L.s.

Dear Harry,

I am terribly sorry not to have written sooner, and can only offer the excuse that I have been horribly busy. It has been very difficult to find the time for the basic activities of my everyday life, much less to sit and write letters, and realize when certain ones are due.

How have you been? I understand that there was a minor fiasco earlier this summer that involved Professor Snape, though I'm assured that it was all smoothed over. I trust that you two have worked everything out, am I right? Well, that's hardly the point of this letter. How did your O.W.L.s come out? Are you still considering a career path as an Auror? Sometimes I wonder, Harry, if you'll still want to do that when all is said and done; you may very well be tired of chasing dark wizards by then, having gotten your start so young! I say this with fondness, of course; it is a worthy profession, and you of all people could handle it.

I will be seeing you a bit more this year, with some luck. I can't say much more here, but we shall see.

You should probably know that I was offered the Defense against the Dark Arts position for this year, but turned it down. I thought you might prefer to hear it from me than someone else, and I should explain. I hope you won't feel guilty for my not coming; knowing you, Harry, you would believe me to be angry with you for what happened at the Ministry. But if you have jumped to that conclusion, I am telling you right now that I, in no way, shape, or form, blame you for what happened. Sirius went there by choice, as I hope you realize now. Know that I am here if you have anything you with to talk about, and by all means, welcome your contact. I turned down the position with great regret, in fact, that I would not be seeing you. Moody will be taking the position instead, and I have hopes that his reputation will serve as something of a ward in itself.

I hope you are not upset that I have taken so long in writing, and I do assure you that my response to your next letter will be much swifter.

Write back soon,

Remus J. Lupin

Harry frowned as he refolded the letter and set it aside. Lupin. He hadn't given any consideration to his reaction to Snape being Harry's father, and magnanimous as he was, part of Harry couldn't help but wonder whether he would still look at Harry the same way, knowing he was not the son of James Potter.

With a sinking feeling, Harry concluded that he would have to tell him… but maybe not just yet. Not when he was so unsure of what he himself wanted out of the situation.

But what did he want? Why couldn't he figure this out? If he had been faced with this decision several years ago… without any knowledge of what Snape's life had been like, and with Sirius still in his life, there was no doubt that his choice would have been more easily made. Now, he knew what he wanted to do- his mind kept telling him to ignore all that he'd learned, that Snape didn't deserve compassion… but he wasn't sure if he did feel that way.

What if he never would have felt that way? Come to think of it, Harry realized how very lonely he'd been all his life… come to think of it… Harry would have welcomed anyone willing to play the role of father in his life, and would have been overjoyed to have a true family member to take that place. And part of him still felt that way… part of him still wondered if it wouldn't be worth it, getting to know Snape… maybe…

He was so torn; he had dreamed of having a family since his days as a small child, and yet, time and time, he'd sworn hatred against the malevolent Potions Master. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't explained everything, offering some sort of silent truce. It would have been so much easier if Dumbledore hadn't told him the long story of Snape's painful past, which made it difficult to bear the idea of hurting the man anymore. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't loved his Mother, Lily… it would have been easier, but it wasn't. Harry was being tormented by his past grievances with the man, and yet he couldn't help but feel that the rest of the circumstances overshadowed those said injustices.

Maybe Snape did deserve a chance… but could Harry give it to him?

Could Harry ever answer that question?

xxx

It wasn't until the next morning, on the way down to the Great Hall, when Harry's head had cleared that he realized how very like his father he was beginning to think. He had never thought of forgiveness as something one must earn- and yet, here he was, contemplating whether or not to make a man suffer for his past wrongdoings, despite his present regret; battling his will to allow him clemency. It wasn't right… it wasn't like him… and did he really want to end up like Snape?

"Potter!" called a crisp, tense voice from inside the doors of the great hall, giving Harry a start. Harry looked up to see McGonagall standing there, beckoning impatiently for him to come.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, walking towards her. He hoped she would provide some sort of distraction from his thoughts… he had a feeling he had been contemplating them for far too long.

"We're preparing the school for tonight's arrivals," McGonagall said, turning and heading towards the staff table, where several other teachers were going over lists of tasks and delegating them accordingly. "I thought perhaps it would be good for you to engage in something productive and help us decorate the Great Hall."

"Decorate?" Harry asked, looking around. This seemed so unlike his strict, no nonsense Professor, asking him to decorate. He couldn't recall there being festive décor in the prior years of his coming there.

"Yes, Potter, decorate," Professor McGonagall said, looking up at him over the parchment she had been scanning. "The tables need to be set with the cloths, the House crests and flags must be strung. Professor Snape is already taking care of the staff table and Slytherin apparel, while Flitwick assists him and does the Ravenclaw. You are here to put up Gryffindor representation; I have a fair few things to do, and can hardly find the time…"

Harry hadn't realized his eyes were widened, but quickly remedied this as he did. "Right," he said faintly, shaking his head. "Well, perhaps I could do something else for you? I would hate to make a mess of something which will be so public-"

"No, Potter, this will do," McGonagall answered him. "Professor Snape is already putting the finishing touch on the Slytherin table, you can ask him to show you how to do it."

"Er- Professor Snape?" Harry questioned, and quickly regretted speaking as a look of comprehension graced McGonagall's features.

"If it's him you're worrying about," McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows, "I'm going to tell you once and for all to move past it. He is your Professor, and at your age you should realize you must treat him with respect even if the two of you can't see eye to eye."

"Yes, I know," Harry grumbled, wishing he could explain himself.

McGonagall gave a small nod. "Good," she said. "And Potter, don't make us look bad," she added with a gesture towards the Gryffindor hangings and nodding subtly towards the Slytherin table, which was mostly completed.

Harry watched her leave, not wanting to turn around. He could almost feel black eyes boring into his back- he knew Snape was standing there, watching him. He was getting used to the fact that he seemed to pop up at the most inopportune moments, unnoticed and quiet until he wished to be otherwise. Harry stayed frozen for half a minute; he expected Snape to say something. He didn't quite know what, but it just seemed that he would have some comment to make… and yet, as moments passed, no sound came from behind him. Snape was choosing to remain silent.

Harry turned around almost mechanically; his unease was blatantly obvious. Snape quickly turned his eyes to the table in front of him, making what Harry could tell was quite a show of fixing the black velvet tablecloth draped across it.

Severus smoothed out the cloth on the table, his eyes closed in a wince that he hoped Harry wasn't noticing. He couldn't explain the strange feeling he'd felt when Harry had turned and caught him watching - it had never used to bother him. In fact, he had once enjoyed the visible anxiety it caused Harry; he had relished the fact that his very gaze made the boy quell with fear. Now, however, he wondered whether this was a good thing… no… he knew it wasn't a good thing. This was his son, and to be in the same room with him made the boy uncomfortable- scared, even. He wasn't sure why this bothered him so much… perhaps because it was a painful reminder of the fact that Lily had felt the same way.

Harry quietly inspected the man before him. His face was devoid of the malice and darkness it usually portrayed. His expression reflected something deeper, something more meaningful- humanity. As simple as the trace of pain and worry on Snape's face was, it brought out the man hidden behind the stone façade. And despite all of Harry's previous thoughts- all his feelings of hate, anger, bitterness and betrayal, he found a dull ache within him that was undeniably a yearning for… well, it was a yearning, but for what Harry had no idea.

Severus opened his eyes, and lifted his brows from the pained grimace they had been furrowed in. He looked up at the boy, and was not surprised to find that his startlingly green gaze was fixed intently upon him. And yet, though he knew what was lingering on the boy's mind, though he knew now was the most opportune time of all to speak to him, the promise he'd made to leave it up to Harry would not leave the premises of his thoughts. He cast around for something to say- anything which would stop him from continuing in the reflection of his own thoughts, something to make it apparent that he was not ignoring Harry, but rather holding true to his vow.

"The Gryffindor banners are lying over there," Severus said mildly, after a moment. He was careful to keep his voice casual- a subtle acknowledgement of their changed situation, and yet on the passive side, not steering the conversation. "It's really very simple to do-"

He turned to the Slytherin table, where the banners were already neatly laid down the length of it, and gave his wand a small flick at each one. They lined up in a row along the ceiling, and Severus turned back to Harry.

"We've been doing this for years- they just require the flick of the wand. They do the rest on their own."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, turning towards the Gryffindor table and beginning to align the banners as they would be positioned on the ceiling. He was relieved that Snape had set the atmosphere at a more comfortable level. "If it's such a simple task, then why am I needed to do it?"

"Are you too far above such menial tasks? Why should you laze about the castle while the rest prepare-"

"I wasn't complaining," Harry objected, looking Snape straight in the eyes. "I was just wondering why I'd be asked to do such simple tasks when there are other things that I could be of more help doing. You always jump to the worst conclusion about me." Harry turned back to the banners he was straightening, with a noticeable jerk now present in his motions.

Severus was slightly taken aback at Harry's tone with him. He hadn't shouted, but he'd put his point across. and though he had controlled his temper, his anger was obvious in the way he went about his job with hard, jagged motions. No- the difference in Harry now seemed to be tolerance… he was tolerating Severus… and that was a surprise exceptional to all others.

"I'm-" Severus stopped, his mouth open, trying to form the words. Harry turned around and looked at him in question.

"You're what?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

Severus raised his eyebrow, and for a fleeting moment, he was reminded distinctly of Lily. Harry was standing there, in an angry position with a fierce look on his face, and yet there was no true loathing in his expression- only strength. It took Severus a moment to realize he was actually admiring his… his son. It took him another moment to regain his composure as he remembered their conversation.

"I'm sorry," Severus said grudgingly, averting his eyes and allowing his arms to fall against his sides.

"You're… sorry," Harry repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"Must I spell it out for you?" Severus remarked dryly.

Both went back to fiddling with the decorations unnecessarily. After a long pause, Harry finally turned back to Snape, determined to see this conversation through.

"Listen, I just need to know. What do you want from all of this?" Harry asked quietly, resting one hand on the table behind him for support and watching his... his father closely.

Severus stayed silent for a moment, contemplating his response. Finally, he settled on the very conclusion he and Dumbledore had come up with in his office.

"I don't want to wonder what if," he said quietly, nodding as though to reassure himself of his answer. "And I don't think you do either."

Harry stared at Snape, only blinking. Was Snape right? Did Harry really want to spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he'd made the harder choice? Was there a chance that this could turn out for the better, instead of the worst?

"And if I tell you I want to try this," Harry said, "you're not going to back out? You're one hundred percent positive that you can handle my decision?"

"If I wasn't," said Severus with a slightly coy smirk, "Do you really think I would have placed the choice in the hands of an imbecile like yourself?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was torn between a smile and a frown, and the result was an awkward mix of the two. Snape raised his eyebrows, as if to say, "Good point, yes?" and then looked up at something, his expression instantly changing. Harry looked at him for another moment, and then, following his gaze he turned to see a large group of people heading towards the doors to the hall. They were his friends: Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

He looked back around at Snape, who gave him a curt nod and swept away. Harry's stomach sank slightly; he had almost been hoping that he and Snape could have reached some sort of agreement right then. At least it would feel a bit more mutual, not like his deciding what to do and then running off to inform Snape of his plan.

He could hear them entering the hall now, so with some effort, he forced a smile onto his face as he turned to greet them.

"What are you all doing here? I wasn't expecting you until this evening!"

"We came by floo," Ron answered him. "Stepped right out of the fireplace into Gryffindor tower!"

"Mum reckoned it wasn't safe to be on the Hogwarts express with You-Know-Who out in the open now," Ginny explained further.

"Funny," said Harry, "Dumbledore said something similar when I arrived here. Of course, the train probably would have been safer than-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, realizing suddenly that he hadn't told a single soul about his kidnapping from the Astronomy tower, and from his friends' casual manner, Harry guessed Dumbledore hadn't either.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted him when he failed to finish his sentence, standing there with his mouth hanging open. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry answered, a bit too quickly, and three pairs of eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I mean..." Harry lowered his voice and looked around. He knew at once that he would have to tell Ron and Hermione- Ginny, too, now that he thought of it. "Listen, I have to tell you guys something, but not here..."

His friends glanced around the Great Hall and to one another conspiratorially. "Let's go to the common room," Hermione suggested at once, but just a minute too late.

"My prefects have arrived! Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall was calling briskly as she swished into the hall. "Here, I've a list of things for you to check before the first years get here. Ah, Miss Weasley; come along, I'll find you some work as well." Harry exchanged a miserable look with the three of them as McGonagall then exclaimed, "Potter! That banner is on crooked! If I have to listen to one cross word from Professor Snape about our table..."

"I'm on it, Professor," Harry answered at once, inwardly cursing. He would just have to wait until after the feast.

xxx

At a quarter to six, Filch escorted the four Gryffindors down to the school carriages that were waiting by the gates. In order to avoid attracting unnecessary attention, their arrivals were to be staged as ordinary as everyone else's. Harry tried to get far ahead of Filch so that he could tell them his story without him overhearing, but the old caretaker was determined to stay right on their tails and Harry's efforts for privacy were completely futile.

Soon after they had climbed into a carriage, the rest of the student body began filtering through and choosing theirs as well. Before long, they were set in motion, on their way up to the castle.

"I reckon it's safe to talk now, Harry," Ron said quietly as they jostled along with the movement of the carriage.

But Harry was not sure that now was the best time to talk. Not now, when they were on their way to the welcome feast, where everyone would be excitedly catching up on the events of the summer and making predictions for the year to come. "I don't know-"

"Oh, come on, Harry!" interjected Ginny. "We won't have time along again for who knows how long. Out with it."

"They're right, Harry," Hermione was saying, "If you want to talk, better to do it now..."

"Okay," Harry said in a hushed voice, even though he doubted anyone outside the carriage would be able to hear. "Let's just say Voldemort- oh, you're fine Ron- didn't wait very long this year to try and get his hands on me." A mixture of gasps exchanged his three friends, and he continued. "I went up to the Astronomy tower for a bit of fresh air, one night..."

When Harry had finished telling his story, each of his friends looked to be in a different type of shock. Ron was muttering curse words under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. Ginny was frowning deeply, staring at Harry as though he were in mortal danger even as they spoke. Hermione looked as though she were adding things up in her head, calculating something.

"I thought Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban," said Ginny after a moment.

"I did as well," Harry replied, "but he must have been let out. It's certainly been kept quiet, hasn't it?"

"Everything's been kept quiet," Hermione responded, glowering. "The Ministry doesn't want people talking about its blunder, does it? Everything in the paper now is about saving face, making it seem as though they're the reason that things have been quiet... but I think Voldemort- for goodness' sakes, Ron- has been biding his time. Now that we know what he's been plotting for Harry, his lack of action certainly makes a lot more sense..."

Their carriage came to a stop and so did their conversation. As they were ushered into the great hall, the greetings began. All around them, girls were giggling and meeting their friends, boys were exchanging stories of summertime adventures... but Harry and the others were pushing silently through the crowd, looking for a seat at Gryffindor table. They found one not too far from the front and sat down, exchanging furtive glances at one another. Harry felt guilty for having ruined their mood for the welcome feast.

"Harry!" called a familiar voice. Harry turned to see Neville Longbottom trying desperately to push his way through the crowd to join them. Harry moved his bag off of the seat next to him and motioned for Neville to sit down.

"I looked for you on the train," said Neville as he climbed over the bench, "but I couldn't find you."

'"Sorry, Neville, couldn't take the train," Harry said in a low voice, glancing around furtively.

"You're not the only one," Neville responded. "It was a bit emptier than usual. My Gran said some people wouldn't want their children returning, knowing what's happening, but she reckons Hogwarts is the safest place there is..."

Harry nodded and looked around the the Great Hall, but in the flurry of people looking for places at their tables, he couldn't immediately spot any missing faces. He turned back to his friends, who were making light conversation, unable to talk about what they'd discussed in the carriage.

"Well," Hermione was saying to Ron, "I'm going to be spending my free periods in the library of course, not that I've got many-"

"You would, Hermione," Ron said, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "You've got nothing better to do."

"Oh, pardon me!" Hermione huffed. "And I suppose obsessing over the three-point difference in a game of Quidditch for two weeks straight is something better to do? You're one to talk."

Ron glared. "It was the Chudley Cannons and it was important," he said slowly, as though spelling it out. "Not that I'd expect you to understand. If they'd won that game-"

"But they didn't, Ron," Ginny said, sounding very bored, as if they'd already been over this a million times. "So get over it, please, for the last time."

Ginny stared at her brother in challenge for a moment, but Ron seemed to resign himself to his defeat as he crossed his arms and looked crossly back and forth between the two girls. She turned back to Harry. "Well," she the said, smirking, "you haven't missed much."

Harry couldn't resist a laugh. He only wished he could say the same to her.

At this, he glanced briefly up to the head table and caught sight of Snape sitting there, clearly trying to ignore the conversation happening between Professors Sprout and McGonagall, who were sitting on either side and leaning around him to speak. With a pang, Harry realized that this was one thing he could not yet tell his friends. Would they look at him differently, he wondered? Would it change the way everyone looked at him? No, he couldn't think about such dilemmas right now. He needed first to decide what he was going to do about the situation.

His attention was drawn away from Snape as Dumbledore rose to welcome everyone and announce that the sorting was about to begin.

And though there had been no deep conversations of huge emotional magnitude, no sudden revelations to strike Harry, no nerves touched, he couldn't help but spend the entire Sorting Hat's song and Dumbledore's speech thinking about what to do with the issue of his father. He had to talk to him… but he couldn't drag himself down to Snape's office, and he knew that. He knew he would end up turning back, or saying something completely different than he had planned. Snape did that to him… or at least, he had in the past. His eyes flickered up to the staff table, desperate and sad, and he saw that Snape was watching him as well. But this time, neither man looked away. Their eyes held contact for just a brief moment, and Harry hoped in that instant that perhaps Snape was reading the look on his face… perhaps he would know that Harry wanted to talk to him, and… but no; Snape was never that intuitive. The only emotions he usually noticed were guilt, fear, and arrogance. Even if he understood how Harry felt, he wouldn't act on it. The hall broke into applause as hat declared, "Ravenclaw!" and both their gazes fell.

Severus sat at the head table, watching intently the range of emotions sliding on and off Harry's face. It almost seemed as if he were asking something of him… was it that he was finally ready to tell Severus his decision? Was he too afraid to approach him on his own? Perhaps he ought seek him out, question him about his thoughts… but no, if he were wrong, he would only be breaking his own promise to leave the situation in Harry's hands. Then again, it would be so like Harry to resent him for not taking action. Somehow, their lack of confrontation would eventually be twisted into the fault of Severus'. If he was right, maybe this was a good opportunity to work on his ways of dealing with the child, and show Harry that he was doing his best.

And yet, he wasn't doing his best. He had no special connection to the boy, and for some reason, he still saw him as "Harry Potter," every time he looked at him. Yet… out of duty to his wife, and a small desire to know his son, he was going to have to attempt to make amends with Harry… no matter how difficult.

The food was served, and Severus noticed that Harry avoided his gaze for the rest of the meal, keeping his eyes fixed intently on the plate in front of him, or occupying himself with unenthused conversation with his friends. Severus waited until he'd seemingly eaten to his full, and then rose from his own seat, dismissing himself from the staff table.

The walk to Gryffindor table seemed such a long one, and Severus had to repress a flicker of annoyance at his own unease. Here he was, a grown man nearing forty, and his heart was beating out of his chest from apprehension about approaching a sixteen-year-old boy. He'd stood in the Dark Lord's presence and felt little more than anxiety in the worst of times, and this young Gryffindor had his stomach tied in knots of doubt and hesitation.

Neville was the first to notice Snape coming towards the table, and he immediately let out a small squeak and elbowed Harry in the side. Harry looked at his friend, and Neville shifted his eyes towards Snape, who had now come to a halt in front of the Gryffindor table, and was glaring darkly at the children before him.

Harry looked up at him, dropping his fork to his plate, and waited.

"Potter," Severus said in a low voice. He did not nod or give any perceptible sign of change in his demeanor, but the lack of malice in his voice was enough to tell Harry he wasn't in trouble.

"Sir," Harry responded, trying to ignore the questioning looks on his friends' faces.

"You and I need to speak about remedial potions," Severus said, and Harry knew, with instant relief, that Snape had picked up on his desire to speak with him. Severus clenched his teeth, his face full of annoyance as he said, "Unsurprisingly, your Head of House has come to your rescue once again, and so I must request that you come to my office at this time. Of course, if you cannot sacrifice a meal for this, as she seems so worried about, I have another free block of time during your Quidditch tryouts. I'm sure," he sneered, "That your position on the team has been secured, regardless of how unworthy you may become of it."

Harry looked at him for a moment, rose from the table, dropping his napkin atop his plate. "Now would be fine," he mumbled, following his Professor out of the hall.

They had come to the corridor leading to Snape's office, and Harry was quite sure they were alone now.

"You knew," Harry said quietly, looking up at the Potions Master.

Severus stopped outside his door and looked at Harry. "I knew what, Potter?"

Harry looked up at him, a mildly surprised expression on his face, and then looked away. Did he know? Had Harry just made a fool of himself, and would he worsen it by elaborating?

Seeing the worried expression on the teenager's face, Severus sighed and allowed his hard expression to relent. "That you wanted to speak with me?" Harry looked back to him, nodding. "Yes, I knew," he said, opening his door.

Harry exhaled lightly and followed Snape into the office, shutting the door behind him. Snape did not sit, but rather, walked about halfway into the room and then turned to face his son.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, almost impressedly.

"I can read minds, remember?" Severus said with an ironic smirk. Harry smiled. Then Severus shook his head. "No, it wasn't difficult to figure out; you're not so hard to understand."

Harry gave him an odd look, and then said, "You're the first person to say that."

The things said which carry the most significance are often the things that are most difficult to analyze the importance of. For Severus, this was one of those moments. He didn't know why those words had such an impact on either one of them, but they did. In some way, both parties realized that it was some form of thank you, some kind of gratefulness.

"Ahh," Severus said in a sort of shocked acknowledgement, raising his eyebrows… for he didn't know what else to say.

xxx end chapter xxx