It wasn't until the next afternoon that Snape received word the ministry had authorized a portkey to transport them back to Hogwarts.

Harry's health had improved enough for the boy to grow irritable with the confinement, and Snape maintained his distance. He preferred to regard it as a spiteful gesture, forcing the boy to attend to his own needs in a time of ill-health, but when he was honest with himself, it was more because Harry preferred it that way.

Their vacation had served the purposes Snape originally intended. He'd broken the glamour, wrested the boy at least temporarily from the influence of Dumbledore, and delayed Remus Lupin's triumphant re-entry into Harry's life. He'd forced Harry to acknowledge his true parentage, and asserted a certain measure of authority over the boy.

Yet the entire experience had left him unsettled, and distinctly regretful that he'd even embarked upon the venture. He had a feeling that he'd personally lost more than he'd gained. He was all too aware now of Harry as his biological son, but he knew this awareness was not reciprocated by the boy. His opinion of Harry had shifted, but he was certain Harry's opinion of him had only been reinforced.

And he didn't anticipate Minerva's reaction upon their return to Hogwarts.

"Merlin, Severus, he looks terrible!" she breathed. "What did you do to him?"

Snape shot her a sour look as he set the portkey on the desk. At his side, Harry's expression turned sulky.

"I'm fine," he said, clearly not appreciating her shocked scrutiny. "May I go?"

Snape had restored the glamour- a temporary spell of his own until the Headmaster could cast something stronger- but it was weak enough to reflect Harry's current physical state. The boy was pale and shaky, still exhibiting signs of his ordeal at Lucius's hands.

"You may go to the Hospital Wing to be evaluated by Madame Pomfrey," Snape informed him.

"But-" Harry began.

"Yes, to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said sternly, still looking rather appalled at just how pale and thin the boy looked. "I will check with Madame Pomfrey to make certain that you've seen her."

With a glare for both of them, Harry stalked towards the door. He paused only at the entrance with a hopeful look on his face.

"Er, Professor McGonagall? Is Remus here yet?"

Snape felt a curious sensation like someone had just dropped a lead weight on his chest.

Lupin… bloody flea-bitten mongrel…

"The hospital wing, Potter!" Snape said sharply. "You can seek out your beloved werewolf on your own time."

Harry's fists curled into twin balls of anger, but he turned and stiffly walked out of the office.

Minerva stared after him for a long moment before whirling on Severus, accusation in her eyes.

"Lucius Malfoy," Snape explained curtly, folding his arms and leaning back against the desk. "Do not pin the blame on me for his condition."

She pursed her thin lips, and glanced after Harry worriedly. "We should have horsewhipped Fudge into authorizing a portkey earlier. You wouldn't believe how many barriers the ministry was throwing up, trying to figure out just where we'd sequestered him."

"Well," Snape said, "I sincerely doubt we'll be forced to maintain this ridiculous truce much longer. Once the details of Malfoy's escape are known, we'll have a new minister within a week."

Minerva's eyes flashed with a vindictive satisfaction, and Snape was rather surprised to realize he didn't find her company entirely distasteful. Maybe he had some middling appreciation for some elements of humanity after all.

Perhaps a break from Hogwarts had been beneficial…

Lupin walked through the door of the staff room, and whatever notions of good cheer Snape might have momentarily entertained quickly died away.

Damned werewolf!

"Minerva! Severus!" Lupin greeted genially.

Snape was satisfied to note the deep lines on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. Lupin had to have lost two stone since the last time he saw him, and aged a good ten years.

Probably mourning that mangy mutt…

"Remus! Settling in well?" Minerva inquired pleasantly.

Lupin smiled, and his thin face was rendered somewhat less haggard by the gesture. "Very well, thank you. All the furniture's in the same place. It's almost as though I never left."

Snape felt a bristle of distaste at Lupin's wistful tone, and remarked snidely, "Don't get too comfortable. If the parents have anything to say about it, I'm certain your stint among us will be blessedly fleeting."

Lupin looked at him a little sadly, but smiled nevertheless. "I suppose I should make the most of it, then."

Oh, he hated Lupin. He hated that soft, mild voice, that gentle way he parried aside every one of Severus's verbal thrusts.

"Did you pass Harry on your way in?" Minerva asked him. "I know he asked about you the first moment he returned."

The dark emotions curling in Snape's gut were offset by the way the smile vanished from Lupin's lips.

What's this? Snape wondered, peering at Lupin with renewed interest.

"Did he?" Lupin said mildly. He seemed to force his smile back, but there was something decidedly off about it. "I'll have to speak with him later."

Snape felt suspicion and loathing flare within him, and if anything, he glared with more fire at the other man.

Something was wrong. And Severus had a feeling he knew what.

Lupin knew. The blasted Headmaster must have told him.

So much for keeping this matter in confidence. First Minerva, now Lupin…

Angry thoughts raced through Snape's mind as he stormed out into the hallway later. Although he barely credited Lupin with sentience, much less with a mind suited for calculation, he no longer trusted the Headmaster. Clearly Lupin had been informed with a purpose. The werewolf clearly knew something. That was the only way to account for his odd reaction to Harry's name.

The Headmaster must have hoped Lupin would erode Snape's influence. Maybe he wanted a counter-balance to Snape. Maybe he saw Lupin as a more beneficial influence over the boy than Severus.

Well… Well… He'd just see about that!

He ran into Harry halfway to Gryffindor Tower. He watched dismay flicker across the boy's features as he seemed to search for some way to circumvent him, and Snape immediately pounced.

"Potter! You were supposed to be in the Hospital Wing!"

Harry gaped at him, eyes wide. "I went already. Madame Pomfrey let me out."

"Why don't I believe you?" Snape said vindictively. "You are clearly disregarding the directives of two of your professors, merely to visit your bloody werewolf!"

"I was going to visit Lupin, yes-" Harry explained.

"So you admit it, then," Snape said repressively, cutting off the boy's objections. "Very well, one week's detention."

"What-"

"… to be served with me starting tomorrow. Now, on your way, boy!"

Harry goggled at him in disbelief as Snape stalked past him, eyes glittering with dark victory.

"I went to the hospital wing!" Harry shouted to his back. "You can't do this! You have NO GROUNDS!"

Snape ignored him. He'd be damned if he was going to lie down and let another Marauder impede on his territory.

Not this time.

Lupin wouldn't get away with this.

* * *

Harry was still shaking with anger when he reached Remus's office.

At least he'd known better, this time, than to credit Snape with any sort of human decency before having his scant expectations crushed. Sure, Snape had taken care of him when he was sick, but Dumbledore would have been upset had he not. And those moments when the greasy git seemed less than evil- well, those were just there to mess with Harry's mind. He knew that now. They had to be.

Snape was so infuriating. And horrible. He wished he could talk to Remus about it, but he wasn't certain whether Remus knew.

And he wasn't sure whether he was ready to face Remus's disappointment.

Or worse, rejection.

But… no. It wouldn't come to that. Remus wouldn't reject him because he was Snape's son. That might have been a possibility with Sirius (it killed Harry to admit it to himself), but Remus wasn't like that.

There was a tense, anxious sensation fluttering in his stomach, and he had to stop to catch his breath once he reached the door to the DADA office.

He didn't know why he felt so nervous. This was just Remus, after all. And he'd missed him. Really, really missed him. Remus would be glad to see him, too. Right? Right..?

And Remus would understand. He'd lost Sirius, too. He'd been there when Sirius fell. He had to be hurting just like Harry was. He wouldn't accuse Harry of sulking or ask him awkward questions about how he was coping.

Damn it, he needed to see Remus.

Of course, Harry reflected bitterly, he'd needed to see him this summer, too.

Where the hell had Remus been? Why had he left, for no reason? How could he just have done that without at least sending Harry an owl?

Harry shook off the thoughts and knocked on the door.

He waited several seconds before knocking again. No answer.

Harry felt himself droop with disappointment. Remus wasn't in.

* * *

Harry was sulking when he showed up for detention. Snape supposed he could see why… he didn't have the best of grounds for assigning it, after all.

The boy had apparently gone to Minerva in an attempt to contest his punishment, but the woman had somehow convinced herself that Severus was using detention as a ploy to spend more time with his newfound son. Snape had scoffed when she called him out on it. Really, he had no idea how the woman got these deluded notions in her head. He had no appreciation for the knowing little smile she sent him before they parted ways.

It galled him to no end that she was drawing erroneous assumptions, so he perhaps was somewhat petty in assigning Harry the tedious task of brewing polishing serum for Slytherin Quidditch trophies, especially taking into consideration the boy's own ban from the sport.

He was mildly surprised when he glanced up from his lesson plans and found Harry stirring with a rather serene look on his face.

"Potter!"

Harry glanced up mildly. "Sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Enjoying yourself?"

His tone was scathing, but he was genuinely curious; the boy was a lamentable potions maker. He'd expected at least a few mishaps by now.

Harry shrugged his thin shoulders. "It's better than scrubbing cauldrons."

"I would think it would serve as a painful reminder," Snape said snidely before he could restrain himself. "You, after all, will have no chance to win one of these ever again."

Harry smirked Before Snape could summon the proper frustration at the fact that the boy had evaded the sting of his insult, he heard Harry mutter something into his potion.

"What's that, Potter?"

"I said, 'That shows how much you know.'" Harry's green eyes raised defiantly to his father's. "My ban was lifted. I'm not playing because I don't want to."

Snape stared at him in surprise for a long moment, even after Harry had turned his attention back to the potion.

This was a baffling development.

He studied the boy who once again looked like James Potter, all too aware of the boy who to some degree resembled him beneath the surface. It frustrated him to no end that he repeatedly encountered facets of Harry's personality he could not account for, or hope to understand.

Snape understood Gryffindors. He hated and despised their impulsive foolishness. Harry was not entirely a Gryffindor.

Snape understood Slytherins. He'd spent half his life actively manipulating the most lethal of them. Harry was not entirely a Slytherin.

So when asked to pinpoint exactly why Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the youngest seeker in a century, would willingly give up Quidditch, he was frustrated to come up empty-handed.

The boy certainly had talent. Even he had to admit it. There had been a damn good reason his house consistently lost to Gryffindor during Harry's stint as seeker.

Harry was a natural seeker. James Potter, after all-

Snape's thought stopped short.

James Potter was not his father. Harry's talent had absolutely no connection to James Potter.

He folded his hands thoughtfully on his desk, considering Harry speculatively. He'd watched Lily Evans… She had a certain degree of aptitude on a broomstick, but nothing rivaling Harry's own level of performance.

But Severus… he himself had possessed no small measure of talent. He'd swear it. His father had forbidden him to play, perceiving Quidditch as a frivolous use of time better spent in one's studies. When he'd found a moment alone, where no one could see him, though, he could fly.

Snape rubbed his finger across his lips, wondering about it. What would have happened, had someone else had the opportunity to witness his flying? Before that malicious hex his father had placed upon him, forcing any broomstick he mounted to buck furiously beneath him… Would he have flown like Harry? Would someone have perceived talent in him?

He suddenly wanted a chance to see Harry fly again, if for no other reason than to witness that talent and know it might have come from him, not James Potter.

And of course, he reflected irritably, the boy has chosen now to quit.

He stared at Harry in silent resentment for a long moment before a tentative knock interrupted his brooding.

"Enter!" he called, and then wished he hadn't as Lupin walked in.

"Severus, I-" Lupin's voice faltered. Then, "Harry!"

"Hi, Professor Lupin." Harry looked suddenly uncertain, as though he didn't know what to say next.

Snape heard an ominous fizzing from the potion, and with an exasperated sigh, vaulted over to wrest the ladle from Harry's hand.

The two hesitated a moment more, and then with an odd smile, Lupin enveloped Harry in a hug. Snape found himself watching Lupin carefully, nothing that odd expression still lingering on the werewolf's face.

"You've been well, I hope?" Lupin said in that soft, mild tone of his, stepping back from the boy.

"Er, fine…" Harry shot an uneasy glance at Snape; he clearly didn't appreciate having Snape there. "How are you?"

There was worry in his eyes, taking in Lupin's bedraggled appearance. It was all Snape could do not to roll his eyes.

"Just fine, thank you. Give me a moment, Harry…" Lupin turned to Snape. "The Headmaster sent me with regards to the next batch of Wolfsbane-"

"It will be made, Lupin," Snape said coolly. "I trust you'll actually remember to imbibe it this time. I doubt anyone would appreciate you mauling their children."

Regret flickered over Lupin's face. "No, I doubt they would. Thank you, Severus." He shot what seemed like an uneasy glance between Snape and Harry. "Well, I suppose I should leave you two to your potion."

"Your absence would be most welcome," Snape sneered.

Harry was staring at Lupin, looking as though his feelings were hurt and he trying to hide it. "You're going already? But we just- I haven't…" He stopped speaking, and then mustered a smile that was even less convincing than Lupin's. "I suppose I'll see you later, then?"

Lupin again looked at him with that strange, unreadable expression.

"Of course we'll spend some time together, Harry." He seemed to muster the energy to give them both a courteous nod. "Good luck with your potion."

Harry no longer looked serene after Lupin's departure. He stared down at the potion with dark eyes, a troubled expression on his face. The mistakes Severus had expected all along began to happen, turning at least two batches of the polishing serum into a white goo.

"Go to bed, Potter," Snape said at last.

He wanted Harry to sleep before his over-curious little friends returned from vacation the following afternoon. No need for unwanted questions.

Gloomily, Harry set about scouring the cauldron and gathering his materials. Snape did not miss it when he flinched, and rubbed harshly at his scar.

"Clear your mind before sleep," he added.

Harry nodded without looking at him, and set off for the door. Snape watched him leave, more troubled than he liked to admit by the reminder that he still needed to teach the boy to occlude.

He leaned back, considering matters.

What in Merlin's name was that display with Lupin?

There was no doubt in his mind now that the bloody werewolf knew. Only now, Severus was uncertain just what game Lupin was playing. Was he scheming to wrest Harry away from him, and simply approaching it in a subtle, disturbingly Slytherin manner, or had knowledge of Harry's identity truly changed Lupin's opinion of the boy?

It couldn't be that, could it?

Snape salvaged the remains of Harry's concoction. He didn't appreciate mystery, especially in Gryffindors he liked to consider utterly predictable. And he especially didn't like having to contemplate Remus Lupin.