February 5th

“Draco’s not here,” Blaise said to Pansy who had been looking at the Great Hall doors for at least ten minutes. “He didn’t come back to the dorms last night.”

Pansy and Daphne stared wide-eyed at Blaise and Millicent pushed her food away giving him her attention.

“Potter didn’t come back either.”

“Professor Snape’s not here,” mumbled Goyle around a bite of food. The group looked at him before each looking up toward the staff table to see for themselves.

“He wasn’t at dinner last night either,” Daphne whispered and began chewing on her fingers. Millicent leaned over and took her hand. Daphne gave her a short glare which Millicent answered back with a pointed look. Sighing, the tiny blonde girl returned to her meal, picking at it.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Professor Snape is perfectly fine–”

“Of course, he’s perfectly fine,” said Nott as he came up behind Blaise holding a copy of the Daily Prophet. “He made the front page.”

Then he slapped down the paper in a plate of eggs. The others leaned forward to see the large headline blaring at them – HOGWARTS PROFESSOR CLAIMS TO BE THE FATHER OF HARRY POTTER! SUSPECT A POSSIBLE DEATH EATER!

With wide eyes they looked at each other and then up at Nott. But the normally impassive boy was smiling, a glint sparkling in his dark eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen, things just got interesting.”

***

Severus was in an incredibly bad mood from lack of sleep though no sleep might be more accurate. He was quite unsure how today would go, how he could teach after yesterday, after his world had turned on its head.

Harry had a relapse shortly before two in the morning and it affected his nerves severely. Severus had spent most of the night rubbing a special nerve salve on his son’s body. For once he had been grateful that he had some in stock. Thanks to the Dark Lord’s many Cruciatus curses.

The irony was not lost on him.

Then, of course, there were Draco’s attacks and the many administrations of his medication. The boy had been less than cooperative – that was indeed saying it lightly – though deep down, Severus couldn’t blame him. He knew the child had to be in pain. During the times Harry dozed off, the Potions master had spent the rest of the night in his lab, going over notes he’d obtained from Narcissa, trying to find something better for his godson.

Two Slytherins. Two eleven year old boys. Both now his responsibility.

He pulled a hand through his hair, scowling at how greasy it felt. He’d run out of Lily’s special potion weeks ago and hadn’t had the time to make anymore. However, it was simply lovely to hear the wonderful wisecracks the students had about the ‘greasy git’.

Of course, Harry might like to help… He smiled. His son was perfectly capable of creating a third year potion with little to no difficulty.

“Good morning, Professor Snape!” chirruped Fred and George Weasley as Severus strode into the classroom, black robes billowing behind him.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Severus snapped, sharply. Hearing snickering, he said a little louder, sneering, “Each.”

He turned to open the cupboard doors and still hearing soft snickering. Clenching his jaw, he tried to stay calm – though for the life of him he had no idea why. Then, he heard rustling and then Lee Jordan’s irritated voice.

“Get off it! After what McGonagall did, we can’t afford to lose any more points!”

“As much as I agree with you, Mr. Jordan,” Severus drawled, strolling over to his desk and flicking a wand at the board which soon filled with his spidery script. “I must take another five for your misconduct in class. Speaking out of turn is much against the rules.”

After smiling silkily at the Gryffindor who glared heatedly at him, Severus straightened up and glanced over at his Slytherins who sat expressionless. He sighed barely perceptively. “The instructions are on the board. This potion is clearly a first year level potion but Ministry curriculum requires it taught in your third year. It is not capable of being an explosive but my years of teaching have taught me to expect anything.”

He did not miss the mischievous, conspiratorial grins of the Weasley brothers.

Welcome back to the real world, Sev, said his thoughts and he found it disconcerting that they began to sound like Lily.

***

“This is boring!”

Harry rolled his eyes. He’d given up trying to placate his classmate because Draco apparently was beyond reconciliation.

Harry rolled over in his bed gingerly, wincing a little at his sore muscles, curling around his cat. Aella gave his hand a lick as it came around to rub behind her ears. He watched as Draco lifted a violently shaking arm and the boy’s face was strained as he tried to keep it aloft. Finally, his strength gave out and it fell back down on the bed.

Draco hissed with pain before letting out his breath in a huff. “Pathetic…”

“Why are you trying so hard?” Harry asked quietly, running a hand down the kitten’s back, which arched to his touch.

Draco looked at him incredulously. “Maybe because I would like to be normal.”

Harry was quiet for a while, turning his attention to his familiar. Draco looked out at the sky through Harry’s window.

Then Harry whispered quietly, keeping his eyes focused on Aella, “What is normal?”

Draco looked back at him. “I’m not really in the mood for a deep philosophical discussion–”

“No!” Harry erupted loudly before realizing what he had done and biting his lip, he whispered, “I mean… for wizards… for us…”

“Not me,” Draco murmured looking down at himself as best he could. “Though for the most part I can appear so.” Before now at least, he thought scowling.

Then he looked up at Harry with surprisingly honest eyes and not a trace of malice in his voice. His eyes flittered up to the boy’s forehead where his lightening scar was now hidden by messy curls, before locking gazes again. “And definitely not you.”

Harry nodded solemnly. He felt tears sting his eyes and he blinked at them furiously, losing the battle.

“Potter – or whatever I’m bloody well supposed to call you – if you start crying again, I’ll find a way to curse you through to next Christmas!”

Harry looked up him with wide eyes. Draco’s pale cheeks were flushed with irritation. “What?” the dark haired boy asked dumbly.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter!” Draco explained, rolling his eyes. He looked back at Harry, shaking his head. “You stalk about this castle like a kicked puppy. You let yourself get beaten up by Weasley and Finnegan who – together – know as many curses as a rock. Self-defense, Potter. You are top of our class! Use what’s in your fuzzy head for once!”

Harry absently brought a hand up to his curly hair, feeling how frizzy it was after laying in bed. It wasn’t always fuzzy… he thought absently, nibbling his bottom lip.

“How?” Harry finally asked swiping at the drying tears on his face.

“Your mother was a Gryffindor, Potter. Figure it out.”

And with that Draco turned his face away.

***

Surprisingly, he had made it out unharmed, flicking his gaze to the retreating forms of the Weasley twins.

Severus didn’t look up as the rest of the students filed past his desk, placing down potions and essays. He was aware of the Gryffindors’ glaring faces but promptly ignored them, like always. He stayed completely still for a long moment after the procession had ended and he slowly began to relax until he heard the soft cough.

Looking up into dark blue eyes, Severus nodded to Augustine Sage, who stood calmly a few feet from his desk. She had a very slight build for her age, almost as short as the first years. Her black hair was pulled up into a braided bun and the thick rimmed black glasses gave her an almost McGonagall-like look. But the coolness in her eyes and the way she carried herself made her every bit a pureblood Slytherin.

“Can I help you, Miss Sage?” Severus asked lowly, marking the paper below him, scowling at Ronald Weasley’s name scratched on top.

“Professor, I noticed you were not at breakfast,” she stated quietly.

“Indeed.” He made a rather violent mark on Weasley’s parchment – no one can be that stupid – before looking up into Sage’s hard eyes. Finally, he said lowly, “I assume you have a point.”

She smiled softly before imploring, “Did you receive the paper this morning, sir?”

He gave her a guarded look, as his heart began pound in his chest – undetectable by her as his body or his emotions that did not give him away. “Of course… though I have not yet had the time to peruse it.”

Sage nodded then walked forward, carefully placing a rolled newspaper on his desk. He gave her an odd look before unrolling it immediately and snapping it open. It didn’t take him long to find what the girl had wanted him to see. The headline made him go cold and while the world seemed to burn around him.

Augustine Sage, seeing the emotions swirling in her professor’s suddenly unguarded eyes, turned to leave, whispering, “I thought it best you knew…”

***

“Minerva, how pleasant it is to see you this morning!” Headmaster Dumbledore exclaimed jovially before popping a lemon drop into his bearded mouth.

He either effectively ignored McGonagall’s fuming look or never noticed at all.

McGonagall strode forward, muscles tensed, clenching a rolled copy of the Daily Prophet in her long, thin fingers. Her lips were pursed into a thin line as she lay the paper down gingerly on the Dumbledore’s massive desk.

“Albus… would you care to explain that?”

Dumbledore – no doubt already fully aware already of what was in the paper – pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and lifted it to his face. Tense silence passed in the room as McGonagall clenched and unclenched her hands. Finally, the wizened Headmaster lay the parchment down gently and lay his chin on laced fingers.

“Minerva, as much as I would like to, I am not the best one to enlighten you.”

She shook her head, her eyes straying to Dumbledore’s crackling fire in his marble hearth. “Is it true, Albus?”

The old man sighed. “If, indeed, what Severus says is true, then yes, Harry is his son.”

McGonagall’s head snapped back to Dumbledore and she took a step forward, sitting stiffly on the edge of a chair. “But that child is practically a copy of James Potter.”

“If it is true, which I would still be surprised if it was but knowing Lily, the boy, without doubt, will favor Severus much more than before.”

She seemed pensive but the longer Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses, the more she seemed lost, broken.

Lily was almost a daughter to you, Minerva, and you love Harry just as much. I would have thought she would have told you about this. After all, she lost trust me after I…

Even his thoughts could not complete it.

Suddenly, the fireplace erupted with bright green flames and a lopsided, cloaked figure appeared among them. McGonagall jumped up quickly in alarm reaching for her wand. The man hobbled out, leaning heavily on a dark wooden cane topped with the copper rendition of a howling wolf. Wiping soot from his graying blonde hair, he looked up at them with brilliant hazel eyes.

“Remus Lupin?!” McGonagall explained, rushing forward to help the man who had been her student once upon a time. Lupin smiled gently at her, allowing her hands to guide him into a plush chair before the Headmaster’s desk.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said quietly. She nodded as creases of concern formed between her eyes. She placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“What are you doing out, Remus…” Dumbledore inquired, leaning forward, “…so soon after the full moon?”

“Albus, I received the paper this morning,” he whispered, looking up at the Headmaster with eyes that seemed to demand attention and obedience.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard absently, “Ah, yes… Yes, the Prophet has appeared to create quite a stir today,” He said, nonchalantly and with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Albus!” McGonagall scolded like she would one of her own students. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, peering at her over his glasses. “I don’t believe that it is time for you to be pulling your common tricks! Harry is the one who needs our concern now!”

“I assure you both that Harry is in no harm with Severus.”

“No harm…?” Lupin asked. “Can you imagine what this could do to an orphaned child? Finding out they have a father, this man lying just to possess him? Let alone a man convicted and sent to Azkaban for crimes against the Ministry and the Light army?”

“My boy, Severus has repented of his crimes, a spy for many years and there is no doubt that Severus has paid for his sins these past twelve years.” Then Dumbledore looked up Remus with cool but kind eyes and whispered, “As, no doubt, you have as well, Remus.”

Silence stretched between them then and McGonagall tightened her hand on Lupin’s shoulder. Dumbledore watched them pensively before leaning over to grab another lemon drop.

“Will I even be allowed to see him, Headmaster?”

“That…” Dumbledore stated, leaning forward and laying his chin on steeped hands once more. “…is for Severus to decide.”

And the look in the werewolf’s amber eyes proved to Dumbledore that Remus had come to him only for the easy way. He knew that Remus was determined to never see Severus again.

Too much bad blood between them – all because of a Lily Evans Potter and a group of young boys who became their own destruction.

***

Severus made his way out of his classroom in a hurried fashion. The house elves he had put in charge of the boys had not alerted him at all while he was teaching. More than likely it meant they were physically well for the moment.

Of course, Severus also had the feeling that if Harry had another episode as he did when he was attacked by Lando Fester, nothing as primitive as a house elf would survive. And possibly even Draco in his current state.

Suddenly, while putting a locking spell on his classroom door, a lithe figure ran into him as they came hurriedly around the corner. Seeing in a split second that the person was about to fall backwards, he reached out an arm and grabbed their own, jerking them up against him. The person let their head collapse on Severus’ chest and stayed still for a moment before looking up at him with tear filled grey eyes.

“Narcissa, what…?”

She leaned back swiping gently at her tears. Trembling slightly, she slowly came under control. “It’s nothing, Severus. I just need to see my baby and my godson.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I really don’t feel like explaining anything,” she responded tersely, swiping at her face. Looking up at him, she whispered fiercely, “Let alone the fact that technically I’m not supposed to!”

Severus opened his mouth to give a rebuttal when he was stopped by a soft cough and mumbled, “Sir…?”

Severus looked up to see Hermione Granger dressed in a green sweater and a pleated skirt with her school cloak draped over top. A red and gold scarf hung loosely about her neck. She bit her lip before mumbled, “…Hello…”

“Miss Granger, what are you doing in the dungeons this time?”

“I-I came to see Harry,” she looked up into Severus’ hard eyes before staring quickly back down at her shoes, mumbling, “…sir…”

Narcissa leaned up toward Severus’ ear and whispered softly, “The girl has no friends, Severus. Let her be.”

Severus looked into Narcissa’s beseeching eyes and sighed, looking back at Hermione who was shuffling her feet. “You may see him.”

She flashed a brilliant smile at Severus and opened her mouth – he supposed – to thank him when a low, slightly gravelly voice intervened.

“Good afternoon, Severus, Narcissa.”

All three of them turned to see the loping figure of Remus Lupin. Hermione watched in fascination as her professor’s faced darkened in a horrible sneer. Mrs. Malfoy’s face was in a deep glare, grey eyes like a cool liquid metal.

“What the hell are you doing here, Lupin?” Severus growled, pulling Hermione behind him roughly as if the stranger would attack her in a moment’s notice.

Remus’ eyes were filled with something like grief as he watched Snape needlessly protect the girl. “I would not hurt her, Severus.”

“And you expect us to trust you?” Narcissa asked contemptuously.

Remus seemed unfazed. “No,” he said flatly, hobbling forward a bit.

Narcissa was surprised when Hermione clutched at her robes. She supposed the child had never seen her professor this irate or, frankly, this murderous.

“Severus, perhaps I should take Miss Granger with me to your quarters…?”

“You don’t know the password,” he said quietly not taking his eyes away from Lupin.

Narcissa saw the pain in his eyes and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Then tell me.”

Severus stared a long time at the werewolf before leaning down to whisper back into Narcissa’s ear. She jumped away from him after he told her the password, eyes filling with tears again. “Oh… Severus…”

“Go, Narcissa.”

With one last searching look at his stone-like face, she fled toward the inner dungeons. One of her hands was holding Hermione Granger’s own. Granger looked over her shoulder once with curious eyes before rushing along with Narcissa.

Severus watched them go until they rounded the corner. Then, he turned back to his childhood enemy, gliding forward until they were face to face.

“Why are you here, Lupin?” Severus growled, right before grabbing Remus’ robes and shaking him a bit.

“I figured it would be obvious,” he said coolly, “I came to see Harry.”

“Like hell you are going to see my son!”

“I just want to see if it’s true, Severus.” He looked up sadly into Severus eyes. “I know she hated James.”

“With damn good reason!”

“I know. I know.” Remus was sad as he looked off to the side. “But I’ve seen the paper. You’ll need all the support you can get.”

“I’d rather rot in Azkaban like your traitor friend then even have you come near my son.”

Severus turned away, striding toward his quarter when Remus’ words stopped him.

“I apologized for the past, Severus. We can’t change anything now.”

Severus looked over his shoulder at the man before growling, “Go bite yourself, Lupin.”