Remus was awake.

Harry stopped short, the breakfast tray nearly tumbling from his hands. He'd only meant to drop by some food for Lupin; he knew what a wreck Remus was after a full moon. It was just supposed to be a nice thing he could do for him now that they were trying to be friendly again. He hadn't meant to actually speak to him.

It was too late to turn back now. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry approached Lupin where he sat half-slumped in his office chair. His professor smiled in weary greeting, rubbing with clumsy fingers at the heavy bags under his eyes.

"Harry, how are you this morning?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry said, unable to ignore the butterflies fluttering inside him. He set the tray down, edging back skittishly. "Did you, er, need help getting back to your rooms?"

"No, it's alright," Remus said, reaching for the pumpkin juice. "There's a passageway I usually take after a rough night in the office." He chuckled at his own private joke, then sucked in a breath and clutched at his ribs.

Harry eyed him warily. "I didn't mean to bother you… I thought you wouldn't be fit for a trip to the kitchens."

Remus's faint smile made him look exhausted. "I appreciate the gesture, but I don't tend to have an appetite right after the full moon."

Harry felt stupid; he hadn't even thought of that. "Oh, never mind. I'll just--" he started to take the tray, but Remus stopped him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

"No, stay a little. I need a minute to gather my strength, and I should be very pleased to have some company." He sipped his pumpkin juice, watching Harry fondly over the brim of his glass. "This was very thoughtful of you. I'm sure you haven't even eaten breakfast yourself."

It occurred to Harry suddenly that he hadn't. Remus gestured for Harry to help himself, and he didn't need to be told twice. He plunked down into a chair and stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth with the relish of a hungry sixteen-year-old boy. Remus quickly hid his smile.

"Did you have a good weekend, Harry?"

Well… He'd spent most of it in Snape's. Any time he'd been away from his Professor's stoic presence and his dark curse books, he was confronted with one of those many reasons his life was shit. So, no, not really. But he shrugged.

"Okay, I guess."

Lupin's hand suddenly rested on his arm, drawing Harry's attention from the breakfast he was devouring.

"Harry," Remus said, "how are you really? Your father told me about Nymphadora."

Harry's mouth went dry. The eggs suddenly tasted like styrofoam, and he had to swallow hard to get them down. "He-- what did he tell you?"

Remus's thumb lightly stroked Harry's skin. "He told me you two cared about each other very much."

Harry drew back from his grip with an uneasy laugh, feeling stripped bare under Remus's perceptive gaze. "He told you that? Really?" He stared at the breakfast, wondering why in the hell Snape had gone and told Remus. "You must think it's weird, huh? Snape did. But it really wasn't. Tonks and I--"

"I don't think you did anything wrong, Harry," Remus said softly. "I just wanted to see how you're holding up."

Harry folded his arms over his chest, avoiding Lupin's eyes. He felt suddenly as though a weight was pressing on his chest, and everything in him wanted to get away from this subject. His thoughts turned to Snape, and he felt a fresh burst of outrage that Snape had just taken it upon himself to tell Lupin… Probably hoping Remus would be disgusted with him or something…

"I should have known that git would tell you," he said bitterly. "I shouldn't have told him we were trying to work things out. I knew he'd just try to get you angry with me again."

"Or maybe he thought I could help," Remus said, his brow furrowing. "He's worried about you. We both are."

Harry did laugh then. "You really don't know Snape all that well, do you?"

Remus stared at him for a long, searching moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft and measured, as though he were dealing with a volatile child.

"I think perhaps you don't know him very well, Harry, if you think he doesn't worry about you." Lupin smiled ruefully. "Last night, I thought he was going to hex me right there for what I said to you."

Harry turned his attention from Remus dismissively, and dug his fork unnecessarily hard into the scrambled eggs, scraping the metal across the plate.

"Yeah, well, he acts like that sometimes. He thinks it makes him look bad when something happens to me. Don't read too much into it."

Remus remained silent, and Harry polished off half the meal, more as an excuse not to talk than due to ravenous hunger. Unfortunately, when he paused for just a moment, Lupin spoke up again.

"Harry, you must realize that Severus-- your father-- well, he's a very lonely man. More lonely than I think even he realizes." Lupin fell silent a moment, watching Harry intently as though debating whether or not to continue. "I think it's been a long time since anyone's shown him they cared about him. Kindness is something you learn from others, and I'm not sure how many people have been kind to him."

Harry drew a sharp breath to retort that the Dursleys had been perfectly nasty to him, and he'd still known not to insult and mock every person he'd ever met, but he fell silent; there was only so much he could stand to mention about the Dursleys.

He remembered suddenly with a pang of uneasiness that Snape was the only one who knew the way they'd really treated him.

"Severus cares about you a great deal," Remus continued. "Maybe he doesn't know how to show it."

Harry wasn't sure what Remus was expecting him to say. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding his eyes.

"Well," Remus said with a heavy sigh, suddenly looking too tired to speak further, "I don't expect to change your mind just with a talk. But think about what I've said. You have a father who cares about you, Harry. I just think it's a shame you don't know it yourself."

Harry took this as a cue that Remus needed to catch a few hours of sleep now. Relieved, he sprung to his feet.

"Are you sure you don't need any help getting to your rooms?" he asked, even though he was secretly glad he could get away from this confusing conversation.

Remus smiled, and patted him gently on the shoulder. "I'll manage. You have a good day in class. I should like to spend some time with you later this week. "

"Sure," Harry said quickly, grabbing the tray. He flashed Lupin a quick grin. "Take care, Professor."

"And you, Harry."

* * * It was a rare day that Harry chose to pull a Ron and go for a second helping of breakfast, but he did so today. As soon as he entered the Great Hall, though, he knew something was amiss.

A hush had fallen over the room, a tense silence penetrated only by the faint hiss of whispers. Students were either intent on their Daily Prophets, or casting strange looks towards the Slytherin table. It was only when Harry retrieved a copy of the paper that he realized why.

NARCISSA MALFOY FOUND DEAD IN HER HOME

Any thought of Remus, Snape, or a second breakfast fled his mind. Harry glanced around the Great Hall, and found many other students doing it as well, searching for the familiar blonde head.

But of course, Draco wasn't there. His family had probably picked him up hours ago.

At the other end of the Gryffindor table, he spotted Ron looking a bit shame-faced, maybe having realized that around the time he'd accused Harry and Draco of having a fling, Draco's mother had already been dead for several days. Harry felt a low, churning guilt of his own, though he couldn't pinpoint just why. Maybe he should have made more of an effort to be nice to Draco.

Yeah, Malfoy was a git… but within one week he'd nearly been kissed by a Dementor, and he'd lost his mum. Who else did he have? His dad was a fugitive and a sociopath. His aunt was crazy. His friends were all future Death Eaters, and if Lucius had spoken the truth, Draco already was one himself. He was condemned to a life of servitude. Harry had spent the last several days dwelling upon how horrible his existence had become, but suddenly Draco's was looking a good deal bleaker.

Breakfast appeared before him, but he instantly shoved it away and rose to his feet, unable to staunch the pity for his nemesis. He knew the other students would want to talk about it; Harry really didn't think he could do that without feeling like some sort of vulture, preying on Draco's loss.

He hoisted up his bag up to his shoulder, and realized then that it was simply… too light. He glanced inside and fumbled around; his Transfiguration book was missing. His mind raked intently over where he could have left it-- his room? the library? Snape's office?-- all the while, he tried not to be distracted by the whispered conversations around him about Narcissa Malfoy.

Snape's office seemed the most logical choice. He could remember carrying it from the library; he had no memory of bringing it back to his room.

He hoped Snape wasn't in there. A strange feeling of unease stole over him at the prospect of seeing him. Lupin's belief that Snape had developed some sort of attachment to him was obviously mistaken, but it added a note of uncertainty to his relationship with Snape just when things had begun to grow so clear.

Snape didn't like him, but he seemed to have accepted some obligation to keep Harry alive, whether because Harry was related to him, or because he didn't think Harry was truly capable of taking care of himself. And Harry had grown accustomed to Snape, he supposed. The insults didn't really hurt all that much now; they just came hand-in-hand with being around Snape.

In a way, Snape had become safe… He was the one person in Harry's life who was dependable and predictable in his twisted way.

He made his way up to Snape's office, and at the last minute pulled on his invisibility cloak before entering; it would be easiest just to avoid him. He was bound to be annoyed with Harry, anyway, for cluttering up his office with his book, or something along those lines, so he could spare them both some trouble and remain hidden.

He was already several steps into the Potions Master's office when he realized his mistake. There was a new easy-chair in front of the desk, and a pale, blonde figure curled up against the arm.

Harry froze, his heart leaping to his throat. Draco.

He knew he needed to leave. He immediately inched backwards, hoping to sneak out the way he'd come, but a dark figure emerged from the next room. Harry scuttled hastily into the corner, trying to stay out of the way of Snape's billowing black robes.

His professor stood still a moment, blocking the exit, considering Draco with an expression on his face Harry couldn't identify.

"Draco, wake up. It's nearly seven thirty." Snape's voice was unusually soft, and Harry had to glance at him twice to fully register that he was actually watching Draco with something that resembled pity. "The Headmaster will be down here shortly to collect you. I thought you might like something to eat first."

"No," Draco mumbled, ducking his stricken expression out of Harry's sight. "I-- I'm fine."

To Harry's disbelief, Snape's expression softened further, and he reached out to gently stroke Draco's hair. "At least have something to drink. I'm certain you're parched. Pumpkin juice? Tea?"

Harry stared at this strange being who looked like Professor Snape. Snape was… he was actually being pretty nice.

Snape was never nice!

Well…

He supposed Snape had been alright that time Lucius had made him sick, asking him if he wanted water, trying to make him better with potions. And, well, holding him (it made his cheeks heat up with embarrassment even thinking about it)… But that was different. He'd never seen Snape like this.

"I think it shall be pumpkin juice, if you have no objection," Snape continued, still looking like he actually cared whether or not Draco was alright.

Snape didn't like Draco. Harry knew his opinion of Draco had soured along with his regard for Lucius; he'd seen it in the hallways when Snape docked points from an incredulous Draco, heard it in Snape's voice thundering with derision after one misdeed or another of the blonde Slytherin's. He knew Draco wasn't Snape's favorite student any longer. Far from it.

But now he found himself wondering if he'd really seen anything, because he'd swear Snape wasn't actually capable of a human emotion so powerful as pity, and certainly not for a student he loathed.

Was he?

His eyes riveted morbidly to Snape's hand, still caressing Draco's hair, and Snape's expression, so compassionate and so unlike Snape that it took his breath away.

"Harry, you must realize that Severus-- your father-- well, he's a very lonely man. More lonely than I think even he realizes."

Against his will, Harry found his thoughts turning back to earlier in the week, to Snape forcing potion after potion upon him until he was sure Harry could bear to face the world… to Snape pinning him to the ground until he'd convinced him not to cast the kinship curse… to that foggy night Snape had taken care of him when he'd gotten drunk with Ron…

He could recall now that strange time Snape had seemed almost… well, not happy, exactly, but certainly not enraged to discover Harry in the Hospital Wing with him. There had been an odd expression on his face, a certain gentleness when he'd pulled the invisibility cloak back over his head and sent him on his way…

"Severus cares about you a great deal. Maybe he doesn't know how to show it."

Harry's thoughts turned to that look of black fury on Snape's face when he'd caught Lucius torturing him.

His mind riveted to that day, the one that still chilled him, and he wondered suddenly if it would be madness to read something other than Snape's inherent sadism in his actions… something other than Snape's need to 'exact retribution' against Lucius…

He watched Snape, still looming over Draco like some protective shadow with an empathy he would never have expected in Snape.

A strange feeling that resembled anxiety welled up in Harry's stomach. It was hard for him to watch as Snape leaned impossibly closer to Draco, still running his hand fondly through Draco's fine blonde hair.

"However dark the cloud, Draco, there's always a silver lining… You will be a stronger person for this in the end."

Harry stared at him, feeling as though he stared at a stranger. He wondered for a wild moment if Remus had really seen this in the way Snape treated him… If Snape had been worried about him, too.

He closed his eyes against the sight, his heart thudding violently in his chest. It didn't seem possible… he couldn't have been wrong this whole time. He couldn't have been convinced for so long that Snape merely put up with him if Snape had been treating him like this, worrying about him like this.

Snape still insulted him at every opportunity; Snape still took points whenever he had the chance. And even when he protected Harry, he seemed upset about it. There was no way… no possible way…

"Kindness is something you learn from others, and I'm not sure how many people have been kind to him."

But what Snape had just done for Draco didn't seem possible either. And it had just happened. He'd seen it with his own eyes.

Snape was comforting Draco. He had nothing to gain from it; there was no advantage in doing so… Snape was merely choosing to be decent.

Just as decent as he had been with Harry.

His mind returned to those instances-- too numerous-- when in one way or another Snape had done something that protected him, something for his own good, something almost like a father might do for his son.

Snape had warned him away from Lucius, hadn't he?

"Lucius Malfoy is your foe. He will cheerfully eviscerate you and bring your broken body to his master!"

And-- the wild thought occurred to Harry now-- he supposed Snape had even tried to protect him from Tonks.

"Nymphadora Tonks's tastes, or lack thereof, are not the issue here. The issue is a twenty-two year old woman taking advantage of a teenager!"

Harry's blood roared in his ears and his mind spun with the implications. Snape had been watching out for him... he'd been doing it for months.

He was torn from his thoughts when Snape rose to his feet and headed into the next room. Harry stood there paralyzed for one horrible moment of indecision, wondering what in hell he should do about this, what he should do after such a long period of ignoring what was right in front of his eyes.

"You have a father who cares about you, Harry. I just think it's a shame you don't know it yourself."

Harry felt like he was going to be sick with anxiety.

But he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

He stepped forward and followed his father through the door.

* * *Severus Snape found himself in the disconcerting position of being trusted by his own son. He was no longer on the receiving end of that suspicious look Harry always directed his way when he made a suggestion regarding Occlumency or dueling; there was no thoughtful pause in which his son analyzed his motives and tried to figure out just what he had to gain from being helpful.

His tip on timing breath during an Occlumency attempt proved a success. His advice on twisting the end of a wand when casting a blasting curse, however, was a colossal failure, and it cost the Potions Master a shelf of priceless potions as well as a torturous ten minutes in which Harry stammered apologies, attempting to clean the mess himself and only mucking up the office further.

Severus's reprimand was half-hearted. However vindicated he felt by his son's sudden belief in him, nothing could make him forget the price he'd paid for this new confidence. He knew himself to be living in a fool's paradise, and any moment Lucius Malfoy would call in his debts and tear apart their fragile peace.

But Malfoy was certainly taking his damn time. It had been five days since Draco's disappearance, and Snape hadn't so much as received a threatening owl.

The lousy bastard was clearly enjoying the upper hand, hoping Severus would spend the interval sweating.

Well, he wouldn't. And he'd already ingested a healthy dose of Counter-Hyperhidrosis Potion to make sure he did not

He was distracted by his musings, so after a long night in which Harry proved himself bereft of any talent at Occlusion, it took him a moment to realize the boy had not yet departed.

"Sir?"

Snape glanced up. "You're still here?"

Harry's expression flickered. His eyes drifted to the entrance as though he were second-guessing his decision not to escape while he had the chance. Snape relented.

"What is it?" he asked, forcing a more patient tone.

"I wanted to tell you about something," Harry said. "I'm not sure if I should. It's a secret… but I suppose you're good at keeping those, aren't you?" Harry laughed uneasily. "Better, probably, than anyone else. I mean, you're a spy… Occlumency Master, huh?"

"What is it, Potter?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why do you still call me 'Potter'?"

He held Harry's eye for a severe moment, and the boy shuddered as though physically ridding himself of something.

"Never mind…" he mumbled, grabbing his books. "This is a mistake--"

Intrigued despite himself, Snape locked the door with a wave of his wand. "Come now, you have piqued my curiosity."

Harry turned to face him again, his green eyes glittering oddly. "I've changed my mind."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps we aborted our Occlumency lesson too early. I feel quite ready for another round." He rose to his feet, his wand waving threateningly at his unarmed son. "Shall we make an exercise of it?"

Harry stared back at him with an expression fast becoming disappointment. "Don't do this."

Something about his tone sent doubt curling through Severus's mind. Disgusted with himself, he unlocked the door again.

"Get going, then, Potter!"

He whirled away from Harry and turned his attention to his course plans. Predictably, Harry lingered, clearly still intent on airing whatever grievance was nagging at him.

"You shouldn't call me Potter," Harry said. "He's not my father. It's not the right name."

Snape sent him a withering look. He'd be happy to rid his son of the hated moniker, but it was a force of habit at this point, and he was not feeling charitable enough to point it out.

Harry's eyes grew hooded and thoughtful, and Severus disliked the look on his face. Calm deliberation was entirely out of place on his expressive features.

"Then again," the boy said in a loud, snide tone that reminded him disconcertingly of Sirius Black, "I guess it makes sense that you don't. You're probably just afraid you'll slip up and call me by my first name in front of someone else, right?"

Snape stiffened. "I do not 'slip up'," he sneered, mortally offended. "I am far too disciplined for that." After a moment, he added in a tone that bordered on malicious, "As you shall see, Harry."

"Yeah, I guess I'll see," his son said in a dubious tone, but there was a triumphant glint in his eyes.

It occurred to Severus suddenly that he'd just been manipulated. Very skillfully.

Impressed despite himself, he had to look down quickly to hide the sudden rush of pleasure that flooded him. That Harry had chosen to outwit him, and over something like this… He intensely disliked this burgeoning sentimentality. It was embarrassing.

When he at last mastered his expression, he saw that Harry had lowered himself into the other chair. The tension in the room had dissipated with his son's clever maneuver.

"I want to tell you something," Harry said, his green eyes glowing feverishly. "I suppose I should have told you earlier… It relates to Occlumency; it always comes to my mind when I'm trying to clear my head. And I'm sure you could handle knowing about it." He looked troubled suddenly. "I bet you're one of the only people who could handle it."

"What is it, Harry?"

Harry eyed him carefully. "The Prophecy-- the one all the Death Eaters were chasing last year… Do you know about it?"

"Who doesn't?" Snape said dryly. "A load of nonsense. Sybil Trewlaney could not predict a storm if it thundered down about her head."

Harry cracked a grin, suddenly looking relieved. "Yeah, it's crazy, isn't it? I couldn't believe it. Dumbledore does, though. He really thinks I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort…" He glanced away sharply. "Or be killed by him, more likely."

Snape froze.

Oh, he'd known there was some prophecy pertaining to Harry and the Dark Lord, some prediction in which both his masters inexplicably had chosen to invest their faith. He had no idea Harry himself was familiar with its contents… or that it truly pointed to Harry as the destroyer of the Dark Lord.

"The Headmaster believes this?" Snape said in as neutral a tone as possible, his heart picking up a beat.

He wasn't supposed to know this; Dumbledore, the Dark Lord-- one of them would have told him if he was meant to know.

But he had a right to know. It was his damn son.

"Yeah, he really thinks it's true. 'Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'. Either I kill Vold-- sorry, the Dark Lord, or he kills me." He raked a hand through his unruly hair. "It's… it's really been bugging me. I mean, how could I take on Voldemort? I'm not nearly that powerful. He-- I've seen him fight Dumbledore, and he's a match for him. And so I try not to think about it… But I just keep remembering it at the worst times. I'll be about to sleep, I'll be trying to occlude--"

"You could not possibly defeat the Dark Lord," Snape said, stunned. "You would need decades of training, and even then…"

Harry threw him a despairing look, and for a crazed moment Severus wondered what in the hell the boy had been waiting for him to say. Why had Harry told him this? What did he want from him? A lie?

And then he realized it suddenly, just what Harry could always expect from him that he could never expect from the others.

"That prophecy," he said hoarsely, "sounds like the most nonsensical piece of drivel I've ever heard." He fixed Harry with a level stare, shaken inside. "Any wizard who seriously entertains the thought that you could challenge the Dark Lord needs a specialist from Saint Mungo's."

It seemed to be the right thing to say.

Harry grinned suddenly. "Yeah, it can't be true, can it? It's ridiculous."

"Utterly ridiculous," Snape assured him. "You would be a fool to think on it further. I suggest you confine your delusions of grandeur to Quidditch where they have some basis in your actual capabilities."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, sounding more cheerful.

Long after his departure, Severus stared after him, horrified to suddenly know the true weight resting on his son's shoulders.

* * *Harry regretted his presumption as soon as he spotted Snape the next evening across the Great Hall. The Potions Master was hovering in the doorway, watching him with a thunderous expression on his face. He instantly felt alarmed, wondering if Snape was angry at him for some reason. He dared to send him a questioning glance.

Abruptly, Snape whirled around and vanished back into the hallway. Harry was torn between the bizarre impulse to follow, and his every last survival instinct.

As it turned out, Remus appeared behind him and took the choice from his hands.

"Harry," he said pleasantly, "Are you busy tonight?"

Harry glanced uncertainly in the direction where Snape had disappeared, then shook his head. "Er, no. I suppose not."

"In that case," Lupin said, lowering his voice, "Are you busy right now? I have something I'd like to show you."

* * * Remus hadn't been certain what to expect when he brought Harry to the wizard graveyard just outside Ayrshire. He knew Harry was hardly one to openly air his grief, but he'd expected-- or at least hoped-- for something more than the blank look he sent the tombstone of Nymphadora Tonks.

"They buried her here?" Harry said in a neutral tone.

"That's right," Lupin said softly, watching him intently for any sign of emotion. "The funeral was last week."

"Oh." Harry took a tentative step closer to the grave, then shot Lupin a curiously empty look. "What am I supposed to do?"

Remus stared at him helplessly for a long moment. How was he supposed to answer that?

"It depends," he said. "Some people just like to… well, reflect. Some leave personal items. Maybe flowers."

Harry stared at him blankly. "I didn't bring anything."

"I could conjure you something if you'd like… But really, it doesn't matter."

A grim little smile twisted Harry's lips. "No, it really doesn't, does it?"

He turned his back to Lupin, and Remus's conviction that this had been a good idea suddenly faltered.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought this might help you."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, not sounding like he particularly meant it.

"We can leave anytime you'd like," Remus offered.

"That might be a good idea," said a cold voice.

Lupin spun around with a wild start to face a glowering Severus Snape.

"Severus!" Remus exclaimed.

Snape fixed Lupin with a lethal glare and prowled slowly over, his gloomy black robes for once placing him entirely in his element.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded icily. "Did you even think to inform the Headmaster you were removing him from Hogwarts grounds? I was alerted by a tracking spell I placed on the floo! Any one of the Dark Lord's followers could have done the same thing!"

Remus watched him approach with mounting confusion. "I'm a Hogwarts professor, Severus. I have permission."

"You bloody fool!" Snape snarled. "Did it not occur to you that they might be tracking his movements?"

"Did you hear something?" Remus said, instantly alert.

Snape sent a wary look at Harry, who was listening intently to their every word.

"I did not," he said slowly, enunciating every syllable as though for Harry's benefit. His sharp black eyes snapped back to Remus's. "I simply possess some modicum of judgment! He cannot leave the school without an escort!"

"I am an escort!"

Snape gave him a derisive sneer, "An escort sufficiently capable of protecting him, Lupin."

Remus wrestled with the desire to point out which one of them was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but for Harry's sake, he bit his tongue and tried not to argue with the boy's father. He glanced down at Harry, and found him watching them, his posture stiff and his skin deathly white.

"We should go," Harry whispered.

"There's no immediate danger, is there, Severus?" Remus asked in a hard tone, never taking his eyes from the suddenly distressed Harry.

Snape, too, was watching Harry with a curious expression. "Nothing immediate. I am merely assailing your exceedingly poor judgment."

Harry raked his hand through his dark hair, smoothing it over his scar. "Look, don't coddle me, okay? I'm not panicking… After what happened at Hogsmeade, I just want everyone to be safe. We should go. They could come after me here, too."

It took Remus a long moment to understand the implications of Harry's words; he saw comprehension cross Severus's face at nearly the same moment.

"The attack upon Hogsmeade was not about you, idiot boy," Snape said, looking and sounding for all the world like was dealing with an imbecile. Remus cringed as he continued ruthlessly, "I am continually amazed at your ability to ascribe blame for everything to yourself"

"Severus…" Remus said warningly.

"There's a point when self-flagellation becomes outright narcissism!"

"Enough, Severus," Remus said, taking an aggressive step forward.

Snape flinched back from Lupin as though he carried a fatal disease, and fixed him with a lethal glare.

"Ten minutes, Lupin," he said in an icy voice. "No longer."

Remus sent Harry another worried look, and knew from his alert posture that ten anxious minutes would do little to bring his charge some solace.

Nothing. He'd accomplished nothing.

"I don't think we need ten minutes," he said resignedly. "Are you ready to go, Harry?"

He glanced at Harry when he received no answer. The young wizard's eyes were fixed on a nearby plot, his expression cloudy as though his thoughts were miles away.

SILVA SISSELTEIN: BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER

"What about my--" Harry faltered, shooting Snape an uneasy glance before continuing, "What about my mother and James? Are they-- are their graves--"

Lupin had expected this question; he sucked in a breath for the response he'd prepared, but Severus beat him to the punch.

"Desecrated," Snape answered with cool disinterest. "The Dark Lord's surviving partisans were severely disappointed by his defeat; they made quite a mess of the bodies."

Harry's eyes widened as though someone had just slapped him. Remus felt a surge of white fury that nearly blinded him.

"Careful, Snape!" he hissed, sending Severus a dangerous look.

The bastard! Didn't he think? Had he considered for just one moment how Harry would feel hearing that?

"Don't look at me that way," Snape said coldly, misreading the cause of Remus's anger. "I did not participate."

Snape's eyes then slid to Harry-- drained of all color, staring a hole into Silva Sisseltein's tombstone-- and something like regret stole into his expression. Remus's expression was still murderous, and he moved past Severus to lay a hand on Harry's tense shoulder.

"They were relocated to a Muggle graveyard by the Ministry. They were heroes, Harry, and everyone wanted them to rest somewhere undisturbed." He shot Snape another scathing look over Harry's bent head-- he could tear him apart!-- and continued in a soothing voice, "I'll ask Arthur Weasley to make some inquiries. How would you like that?"

Harry shrugged under his hands. "They're dead." His voice sounded strained. "I guess there's no real point just going to visit some gravestones. It's not a big deal."

"Harry--"

"It's really not." He glanced around the graveyard bleakly. "These are all just… names. They don't matter." His gaze settled on the tombstone of Nymphadora Tonks; there was a glassy look in his eyes that warned Remus immediately he was no longer engaged with the situation. His voice sounded distant. "She's not there. It's just a body. So why does this matter?"

Lupin watched him with a helpless expression.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"You know, Lupin," he drawled, "I find it highly dubious that the Ministry has yet to release the secret location of the Potters' graves even to their closest friends. I am certain they simply disposed of the remains... assuming anything was even left of the Potters after--"

Lupin whirled on him. "So help me Severus, if you do not Shut. Up--"

He stopped abruptly when Harry jerked out from under his grip, the thin veneer of indifference torn by Snape's callous words.

"They did that?" Harry cried, rounding on Snape. "They just… threw them away?"

Snape stood there, a picture of calm, as Harry's entire form shook with anger.

"No." Snape shrugged his thin shoulders. "I'm certain there are quite a few sentimental souls in the Ministry who would have secreted them away and even paid the expenses out of their own pockets. They were nauseatingly revered, though Merlin knows why…" He shot Harry a calculating look. "But that wouldn't matter, now, would it, Harry? We're simply discussing two bodies."

Harry's eyes drifted away from Snape, back to the grave of Nymphadora Tonks. Remus watched in disbelief as the clarity stole back into his expression. The boy swallowed hard, and then took a tentative step closer to her plot.

Lupin found himself torn between admiration that Severus had so effectively halted Harry's retreat into himself, and fury that Severus had done so in such a cruel way.

"I don't know whether to punch your lights out or pat you on the back," he said in a low voice, making sure Harry couldn't hear.

Snape glanced over, and his lip curled in distaste. "I would prefer neither. I understand lycanthropy is contagious... And I have my own theories about rank idiocy."

Remus sent him a challenging look, rankled by the implication in Snape's tone.

"He needed to come here, Severus," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. He knew any show of anger would simply goad Severus on. "There's more to taking care of a child than protecting his physical well-being."

"I doubt blatantly endangering it qualifies," Snape sneered.

"He needs some closure," Remus argued quietly. "He has no memory of his parents, and he lost Sirius too soon. I don't know if this will help, Severus-- really, I don't… But perhaps some feeling of resolution will help him move on from the pain."

Snape watched Harry, his black eyes glittering oddly. "Anger will help him there, too."

"Harry's not a vengeful person, Severus."

Snape shot him a withering glance. "Really?" his tone was sarcastic. "How well you must know him, Lupin!"

"It won't help him, Severus," Lupin repeated, with conviction. "He'll drown in it. He needs some peace."

Snape scoffed. "You don't know what he needs. Your little respite from his life removed you quite thoroughly from any new developments in it."

"I don't know much of what's happened to him recently," Lupin admitted sadly. "But Severus, I do know Harry."

Snape looked at him sharply, his eyes suddenly intent, and Lupin wondered for a moment just what he'd said to make him react so strongly. But then Snape glanced away, a muscle in his jaw fluttering.

"Very well, Lupin," he growled, in a voice so low it was nearly imperceptible. "You know him so well-- do your job. Comfort him."

Remus stared at him in confusion for a long moment, but instead of elaborating, Snape merely pulled out his wand and stalked away. He marched to the perimeter of the graveyard as though he'd chosen to remove himself entirely from the situation.

The gesture made Lupin unaccountably sad; it seemed to him then that Severus would always be retreating to the background, surrendering his responsibilities with his son to those he felt could actually handle them.

He was torn for a moment between the urge to follow Severus, and the need to support Harry.

But he knew that only one of them would welcome his help.

"Harry…"

The dark-haired boy glanced back at Lupin briefly before returning his attention to the grave. "Is it time to go?" he asked tonelessly.

Remus laid his hand on Harry's shoulder; the muscles felt tense beneath his palm. "No. Take your time."

He stood next to the boy, and considered the lively, laughing girl buried beneath them. Sadness welled up inside him for Nymphadora Tonks, and for all those nameless souls they'd already lost in this fight.

"We need these moments, I think," Remus whispered. "It can't fill the hole left by their passing, Harry… but perhaps we can make some peace with what we've lost."

And when Harry's eyes found him, they both shared the silent knowledge that he was speaking of more than just the woman who had just died… Of another man, vanished into his anonymous death, one whose loss only they would truly feel.

Sirius had died still in the shadow of the world's disgrace. But when Remus reached out and draped an arm around Harry's shoulders, it was certain at least two people would never forget him.