“Severus!” James heard Lily scolding from the kitchen, “Remus will be here any minute.”

“Leave him alone, Lils. He’s trying to teach Harry to say ‘Powdered Lichen’,” James told her with a chuckle as he listened to Severus coaching his son in the finer points of potion making, though the little boy was more interested in transferring plastic frogs in and out of the child-sized cauldron that was sitting on the low table in front of Severus.

“Must you continue to use that asinine moniker?” Severus asked as he always did, though the question came in various forms.

“Language!” Lily called from the kitchen.

Severus pursed his lips and then made a little oomph-ing sound as one of Harry’s frogs struck him on the nose, making the little boy giggle. “Brilliant, Harry,” James congratulated him and Harry grinned a toothy grin.

Harry held out a hand to Severus, waiting for his father to return the errant toy. Severus sighed, retrieved the frog from the floor and handed it obediently to Harry. Harry immediately threw it again, making James break into hearty laughter.

Severus, shaking his head in mild amusement, reached down for his boy and pulled him upwards and into his arms. James stood and held out his hands toward Harry. Harry clung tightly to his father and it was James’ turn to sigh. “Come on, Harry. Time to get dressed for Uncle Remus,” he coaxed, but Harry wouldn’t budge. Lily came in from the kitchen then and reached her arms out as well to Harry.

“Come along, sweetie.” But even for Lily, Harry didn’t move an inch, content in his father’s arms. Lily shook her head, though she was smiling. “I suppose he’s fine as he is.” She did use her wand though to clean the little boy’s smudgy hands and face.

Severus held Harry still while Lily spelled him clean and James couldn’t help noticing the smug look on the man’s face and he wondered if Severus even realized he was looking so ridiculously pleased with himself. But James didn’t begrudge him the feelings; Severus had come a long way and although he knew Severus would never admit to a similar feeling, James enjoyed their newfound friendship.

There a was a quiet knock on the front door and with a quick glance at James and Severus to ensure that they were ready, Lily went to let Remus in. When Remus followed Lily into the parlor, James immediately grinned and greeted him, “Moony!” The two thumped one another soundly as they hugged and James quickly asked, “How did everything go?”

Remus shrugged but then turned at the childish shout, “We!” with a grin on his worn face.

“Harry!”

Harry toddled over to Remus and excitedly lifted his little hands in the air, clenching and unclenching them into fists with impatience as he waited for Remus to lift him. Remus obliged immediately, planting a kiss on the toddler’s cheek, tickling him gently. Harry squealed in delight.

“How’s my big boy?” Remus asked the decidedly little boy. Harry watched the werewolf with solemn eyes and Remus tousled the black hair with affection. Then, as if he had just remembered his manners, Remus turned to where Severus was standing near the other doorway and offered politely, “Good evening, Severus.”

Severus nodded curtly, “Lupin.”

James knew Severus was annoyed that Harry had gone so easily and swiftly to Remus. But jealously was another emotion Severus would not have admitted to and he covered his feelings well as he watched Moony holding his son. James doubted he could have done as well himself.

“You’ll stay for dinner, Remus?” Lily asked, her face warm as she watched her friend; Remus chuckled.

“Are you cooking?” he wanted to know. Lily grinned and nodded. “Well, then, of course,” he accepted easily.

“Would you like to help?” Lily asked him.

Remus eyed the little boy in his arms, assessing him “What do you say, Harry? Should we give your old mum a hand?”

Lily swatted Remus’ arm playfully. “Don’t warp Harry’s mind. I am not old.”

Remus grinned and asked Harry seriously, “Should we help your young mum, then, Harry?” He tickled the little boy again, setting off peals of giggles and Remus laughed with him, bouncing Harry lightly in his arms as he followed Lily to the kitchen.

James was grinning as he watched the trio walk out of the parlor but he stopped at the look on Severus’ face. Now that Remus had left the room, Severus was looking distinctly disgruntled.

“Harry adores you,” James tried gently only to have Severus turn toward him with a scowl.

“Thank you, James, for stating the obvious,” he drawled sarcastically. James sighed and Severus, still huffing in frustration, went to finish whatever potion he was working on in the lab. James shook his head and wondered why he even bothered sometimes; the man was a walking sneer.

------

1996

Severus paced in angry, measured steps in front of the hearth in his quarters. Damn his temper! He couldn’t even claim the excuse that he had little experience dealing with volatile teenage mood swings; Severus was the Head of Slytherin House, for Merlin’s sake! Teenagers didn’t come more explosive than his Slytherins. Damn, damn, damn, Severus fumed as he moved.

Why couldn’t he have simply explained calmly to Harry that he was concerned about him? Why did he have snap at the boy? Harry only had such idiotic assumptions about him because Severus had never given Harry any reason to believe his Professor capable of anything but hate. Of course his son would think him an egotistical cretin.

Severus had seen the way he’d left his son shaking in his bed. He had felt instantly remorseful, but he hadn’t known what to do. So he’d left. How many times was he going to just Floo away from a problem without dealing with it? But Harry wasn’t a problem…he was a boy…his son. A son he’d left three times in the past week without any sort of explanation.

Severus stopped pacing when his Floo erupted and then an extremely irate werewolf was glaring out at him. Severus glared back, wishing he’d remembered to close his damned Floo.

“What do you want?” he barked, expecting Lupin to have the decency to cringe at his tone, but instead Lupin stepped through the flames and into Severus’ sitting room. Outraged at Lupin’s audacity, Severus drew his wand and growled, “How dare you enter my rooms without permission in the middle of the night?”

Remus, completely unaffected, folded his arms across his chest and said calmly, not even bothering to draw his own wand, “You’ve left Harry a mess twice now and I will not allow you to hurt him again.”

Severus mentally sagged at Lupin’s words, cringing inwardly as he remembered the crushed look on Harry’s face earlier. But Severus would not reveal any such pitiful feeling to anyone, least of all Remus Lupin so he said instead, “Your threats do not interest me.”

“What does interest you, Severus?” Lupin asked, his brown eyes suddenly intense as he watched the Potions Master carefully.

“I am certain that is none of your business, wolf.”

Lupin raised a brow, obstinately refusing to rise to Severus’ bait. Severus cursed the man for his easy going nature. “Harry is my business, especially now that you’ve made it clear that he is none of yours.” Lupin’s eyes were glowing with determination, though he retained his docile tone.

Severus narrowed his eyes, “I have made no such thing clear, especially not to you,” he snarled.

Lupin’s eyes registered surprise and then he shook his head sadly. Lupin was looking at him with such pity that Severus felt his neck begin to flush, but he determinedly willed himself to calm; the tinge of red did not creep further up. “Whether you realize it or not, Severus, your behavior makes it plain to Harry that you do not want anything more to do with him now than you ever have.”

Severus turned away, lest the werewolf see the anguish that he was too surprised to restrain. That had not been his intention at all when he’d begun talking to Harry in the Hospital Wing. Hadn’t he answered the boy’s questions honestly? Of course he had lost his temper, which had made the boy understandably upset, but surely Harry should have understood his anger was only in reaction to his concern for his son? Apparently not though, Severus thought bitterly, as Harry had obviously called for Lupin at the first chance.

“Harry’s just a boy, Severus,” Lupin said gently. When Severus didn’t answer, he continued in that same cloying voice, “Surely you must have realized that Harry’s relatives would not be able to love him?”

He had realized it. Lily hadn’t talked of her sister very often, but the pain his wife had endured because of her sister’s obvious jealousy and loathing had been acute. Of course Petunia would not have cared for Lily’s son. The reason for Lupin’s words was not lost on Severus either; he understood from his own childhood that Harry would most likely not be able to trust easily, having no recollection of being loved or accepted as a child. Severus of course, had found love from Lily as an adult. Her acceptance had eased much of his own self-doubts…though not all.

“He deserves better from you.”

Severus jerked around. He had almost forgotten Lupin was still in his parlour, he had so lost himself to his musings. And Severus was surprised to realize that he was in perfect agreement with the werewolf. Harry did deserve better; it seemed unlikely however that the boy would get it.

“Are you finished?” Severus asked in an overly-polite tone, though his fearsome glare belied it.

“Are you going to talk to Harry?” Lupin pressed, with a glare of his own.

“I believe I mentioned before that this is none of your concern,” Severus said, an edge of menace having crept into his voice.

“And I made it clear to you that Harry is my concern. And I can assure you that he has no plans to change that arrangement,” Lupin answered lightly, sounded utterly indifferent to Severus’ rising anger.

“An arrangement, have you?” Severus sneered and the damn werewolf had the nerve to smile.

“Yes, Severus…it’s called a relationship, but then you wouldn’t know about those, would you, as poorly as yours went with Lily and now with your own son.”

Severus advanced on Remus, his wand drawing straight up until it was touching Lupin’s marred face. “You go too far,” Severus snarled.

“And you do not go far enough,” Lupin said quietly and with a measured glare, Lupin left the same way he had come in.

Severus’ snapped his wand back down from where it was still pointing at the empty air, cursing the werewolf’s name. How dare Lupin come here to tell him how to mind his own private affairs? Severus would talk to his son in his own way, in his own good time. He resented the man, Flooing to see Harry at a moment’s notice. Giving the boy comfort where Severus had so soundly failed. Of course he had failed! How dare Lupin expect of him what he could not give!

His fury set him pacing again in the small confines of his dungeon quarters. Did Harry expect the same of him? How could the boy expect anything, after all he’d gone through…after all the Potions Master had put him through? It was obvious though that Harry expected something of him. Severus’ words in the Hospital Wing had clearly decimated the boy. But Severus had spent nearly forty years battling with his renowned temper; if Harry could not even handle as small a sampling as Severus had doled out, any further effort would be doomed.

And Harry had a formidable temper of his own, which no doubt had been granted at least in part by Severus’ half of his son’s genetic makeup. But for all of Lupin’s frustrating blather, the werewolf had been correct. Harry was just a boy. Severus was an adult, at least technically, Severus amended in brief amusement, remembering that Lily had often used the term ‘technically an adult’ when she was claming that Severus was being childish.

As Severus allowed his thoughts to stray to Lily, his resolve firmed again. Severus had promised her that he would try. And try he would…again. He wondered, as he spelled the lights off in his the sitting room and turned toward his bedroom, just how many attempts it would take before Severus could leave a room without the boy quaking with some sort of overwhelming emotion?

------

Severus flipped the Infirmary door open and stepped into the hospital wing, which was now bathed in the subdued light of the early-morning sun. Harry was sitting in the same position he had been in last night, propped against his pillows, though now there was a tray brimming with half-eaten food hovering above the boy’s thighs. Harry looked up with an expectant smile; his face immediately crumpled when he saw it was Severus coming through the door.

“You were expecting someone else?” Severus asked coolly, falling back on the familiar jibing tone far too easily. Harry bit his lip, nervously it seemed, but the boy shook his head, denying the obvious truth in Severus’ statement.

Poppy hurried out of her office. “Severus, you brought Mr. Potter’s last dose of Ossifying Potion, I hope.”

“Obviously,” Severus answered dryly, holding out the small vile.

Poppy gave him a disapproving look before snapping, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Severus handed the potion to the boy. Harry took it obediently before gulping it in one smooth motion. He held out the vial without being asked and Severus found himself staring into his son’s green eyes, almost mesmerized by them. Mentally shaking himself, Severus pulled his wand out swiftly and this time, Harry remained perfectly still as he brought it forward. He waved the instrument over Harry’s form, taking extra time over the bones that had been shattered two days previous. Satisfied that the boy was healed, he turned to Poppy. “The Ossifying Potion seems to have worked effectively.”

Poppy huffed at him and took out her wand to do her own examination, saying snippily as she did so, “Thank you, Healer Snape.” Severus pursed his lips and simply watched Poppy complete the scan. “Well,” she said finally to Harry, “it seems Professor Snape is correct. You may leave after breakfast.” Severus bit back a small smile at Poppy’s tone; she sounded almost disappointed at the news. He knew the witch was never more content than when she was tutting over students, something he himself could not claim.

Harry grinned. “Brilliant!” he enthused and pushed his breakfast tray further down the bed and started to push himself up.

“Just a minute, young man,” Poppy cut in sharply and Harry stopped in mid-movement, looking up at her, his eyebrows drawn into his fringe. “Finish your breakfast and take your time. If you go flinging yourself about like that, you’ll be back here before nightfall.” With that, Poppy placed Harry’s tray back above the boy’s thighs and glared at the fork pointedly. With a sigh, Harry took a few more bites of egg before Poppy nodded and went back toward her office.

As soon as the Healer was out of sight, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and moved the tray out of the way again and sat up again, swinging his fully healed legs over the bed in one swift movement.

“I believe Madame Pomfrey would likely qualify that as ‘flinging’,” Severus said dryly and Harry looked up, startled. His face immediately flushed.

“Right. Sorry, sir,” Harry muttered, pushing himself back a little on the mattress and Severus immediately wished he hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t thought his comment as a chastisement, but apparently Harry saw something different.

Distinctly uncomfortable, Severus looked away, taking a moment to order his mind before turning back and replying, “As I said, the Ossifying Potion worked adequately, but it would be unwise to push yourself.”

Severus watched the boy carefully while Harry nodded and then gingerly stood up from the bed, seeming to test his stance slightly before standing upright. He looked up as he straightened. It looked as though he was considering his next words and Severus braced himself. He was a bit taken aback when the boy simply said, “Thank you…for the Potion, I mean.”

Severus nodded once and the feelings of disquiet began to overwhelm him; he Occluded his mind and said to the boy, “Classes start in less than thirty minutes. Unless you plan to arrive in your pyjamas, I suggest you be on your way.”

Severus had done his best to keep any traces of sarcasm or malice out of his voice and it seemed as though he might have succeeded. Harry didn’t glare at him or otherwise lose him temper at the words. He only nodded and put his robes over his night clothes. He stared again at Severus, an indecipherable expression on his face before clutching the long robes about himself and letting himself out into the corridor. Severus watched him go, feeling satisfied.

------

Harry smiled as he entered his dorm room; Ron was sprawled out on his stomach, his head under the bed, apparently looking for something. Harry laughed when Ron scrambled out, his hand grasped triumphantly around one of his shoes. Ron looked around at the sound of Harry’s laughter and grinned.

“Harry! You’re back!”

Smiling at him, Harry gave his friend a hand up and said, “Brilliant observation, Ron. Hermione would be impressed.”

“You’re a real riot, Harry.” Ron made a face at him and then bent down to tie up his shoe. “You going to class?” he asked as he straightened up, eyeing Harry’s pyjamas.

“Yeah,” Harry told him rolling his eyes as pushed off his robes and slung them over the bed.

“You’d better change then…unless you want to walk around the castle in those,” Ron said with a smirk.

Harry groaned, “You sound like Snape.”

Ron frowned at him. “Snape?”

Harry shrugged, “He said almost the same thing earlier,”

Ron was staring at him curiously, though Harry noticed he did look a bit disgruntled, presumably at having been compared to Snape. Harry grinned to himself and just as he was pulling his pyjama shirt over his head, Hermione’s voice range out in annoyance, “Ronald! Are you almost ready?”

Harry looked up, startled. Hermione was striding in, with Ginny right behind her. Hermione blushed at the sight of Harry standing in the middle of room, half-naked; she looked hurriedly away. He saw Ginny smile slightly at him before he quickly turned away to grab his shirt and jumper, his own face heating with a blush. He pulled the jumper over his head and turned back to face the girls in his doorway.

“Hey!” Ron told them pointedly, “Harry’s not going to wear his pyjama bottoms to Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know.”

Ginny and Hermione obediently turned around though Harry was pretty sure Ginny’s smile had brightened a bit. Harry mumbled a sarcastic and nearly inaudible, “Thanks, mate,” in Ron’s general direction as he yanked his legs into his trousers. He picked up both his tie and his robes after tying his shoes and said finally, “Okay, let’s go.”

“We thought you’d still be in the Hospital Wing,” Ginny offered as the four of them trooped down the stairs.

“Pomfrey sprung me after the last dose of Snape’s Potion,” he told her with a shrug.

“Did you see him again, then?” Ginny asked curiously and Harry figured she must have told her brother and Hermione about the Potions Master visiting him the first night in the Infirmary.

Harry nodded. “He came again last night to give me the potion and again this morning for the last dose.” He didn’t elaborate and he saw Ron nudging Hermione when she opened her mouth.

Hermione gave the redheaded boy a glare before asking, “What happened?”

Harry felt his face warm with the remembered hurt of Snape’s words the night before. But keeping his tone studiously light, he said, “He sneered about this and that…you know, the usual.”

Hermione gave him a skeptical look, while Ron nodded, “Course he did, Harry. What else can you expect from the bat?”

“Ron, you’re not helping,” Hermione chastised, but Ron ignored her.

“Did you at least get in a few good shots of you own, then?” he asked

Harry watched his feet as he walked. “A few,” he confirmed uneasily and his throat tightened a bit as he thought of at least one of his ‘shots’ to Snape. The one that had made Snape so angry.

They had stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Harry glanced up in some surprise. He hadn’t realized they’d made it all the way down to the main level.

“I’ve got Transfiguration. I’d better go.” Harry nodded at Ginny’s words. Ginny smiled and asked suddenly, “Do you want to study tonight in the library?”

“Good idea, Ginny,” Ron approved, “and then you can help me with the Charms essay Flitwick set for us,” Ron told Hermione happily but she frowned at him.

“I don’t think we were invited, Ronald.” Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, both confused and Ron said indignantly, “We are so…” but he trailed off at a glare from his sister. “…aren’t we?” he asked her.

“No,” Ginny said simply and Harry felt his cheeks warm again. “Harry?” Ginny asked again and Harry nodded mutely at her. She smiled and Harry felt his gut spasm, though not unpleasantly. “Good. See you later, then,” she said. She waggled her fingers and then she was lost in the clutch of students as they hurried to their classes.

Ron was staring at Harry in astonishment. Harry shrugged slightly, but Ron didn’t move until Hermione tugged sharply at his arm and said urgently, “Come on, Ron. We’re going to be late for class!” Ron nodded, somewhat dumbly and then allowed Hermione to drag him toward Remus’ classroom, with a fairly giddy Harry trailing behind them.

Remus’ return to Hogwarts had been a rousing success; only the Slytherins seemed to mind that Remus was teaching again. Harry enjoyed today’s session as much as he had the last two times, but since he was waiting anxiously for class to finish, he fidgeted in his seat almost the entire time, garnering him odd looks from Remus at regular intervals throughout the class.

When Remus finally dismissed the class, Harry explained quickly to his friends and then waited for the rest of the class to leave before perching on one of the desks in the front row. Remus eyed Harry’s decidedly nonchalant posture with an amused look before asking, “Something on your mind, Harry?”

Harry nodded, too distracted to notice Remus’ amusement. “You haven’t talked to Snape already, have you?”

Baffled, Remus nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“You did?” Harry asked, his voice rising a bit in puzzlement.

Remus nodded again, still confused. “I told you I was going to, Harry.”

“But when did you talk to him?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter.

“Last night, right after I spoke with you in the infirmary.”

“Remus!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t think you were going to go barging in on him. It was the middle of the night!” Harry said in exasperation.

“That’s exactly what Severus said,” Remus said, chuckling.

“What did you say to him?” Harry demanded, suddenly very nervous. He winced a bit as his question came out more abruptly then he’d intended. “Sorry,” he said quickly, hoping Remus wouldn’t pause to scold him.

Remus just shook his head, still looking highly amused at Harry’s near-panic. “Harry, calm down. I simply told him you were upset.”

Harry stared at him. “Why?” he wanted to know.

Remus sighed. “I couldn’t very well just threaten to hex him into oblivion if he didn’t stop being an arse, without some explanation. That is what you wanted me to say, right?” Remus was smiling again.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually want you say that, you know.”

“You didn’t?” Remus asked innocently and when Harry looked alarmed, Remus smiled.

Harry scowled at the man and groused, “You said you were just going to tell him to leave me alone.”

“And so I did. He didn’t take kindly to my request.”

“He didn’t?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Harry,” Remus said gently as he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Severus has had very little experience in caring for other people. I gather from what little Lily told me, that even then, when it was obvious how much Lily cared for Severus, he did not return those feelings easily.”

Harry tilted his head as he tried to process Remus’ confusing words. “I don’t think I understand,” he admitted slowly.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do believe Severus is capable of caring about you, but I don’t know that he’s capable of demonstrating that to you.”

Harry clenched his fists. “What do you expect me to do then? Just sit around and listen to him insult me?” Harry asked angrily.

Remus raised his eyebrows, giving Harry a look. “I don’t expect you to do anything, Harry. It would help though if you’d try to keep better control of your temper,” he suggested.

Harry folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the slight rebuke. “Right, Remus. And Snape is sure to notice, as he’s basically just one giant temper tantrum.”

Remus laughed and shook his head at Harry’s imagery. “You’re right about that.” He sobered quickly though and asked seriously, “Why did you ask if I’d talked to him?”

Harry frowned. “He came to the Hospital Wing again this morning to give me the last dose of Ossifying Potion. He was…odd.”

“Odd?”

“Yeah,” Harry said thoughtfully. “It seemed like he was being really careful about what he was saying, but he wasn’t exactly nice either.” He looked at Remus quizzically as though he expected the older man to be able to explain the other Professor.

“As I said before, I think Severus is trying but he’s a bit rusty.”

Harry nodded. “And pleasant is not exactly one of his favorite moods, is it?” he mused.

“No,” Remus chuckled in agreement, “it’s not.”

------

Harry didn’t see Snape again until Potions the next day. He felt the same nervous butterflies as he had the last time. As was becoming routine, Harry set up the cauldron while Malfoy set out his ingredients; the Slytherin seemed to prefer to use his own supplies. Harry didn’t bother to argue.

Harry was so engrossed in watching Malfoy meticulously sorting through and lining up his ingredients that he didn’t notice when Snape came in. He was startled by the Professor’s voice as he snapped out, “Weasley! Are you planning to force Ms. Parkinson to do all your work today?”

Harry’s head snapped around to look at Ron, who was glaring at the Potions Master. “No, sir,” his friend said, his voice barely containing his annoyance.

“Excellent,” Snape drawled, “then stop sitting there, gaping like a Mountain Troll and get out your materials.”

Harry watched Ron grit his teeth and resentfully begin taking his things out of his bag. Snape turned around and glared around the classroom.

“I trust everyone else is prepared?”

Harry bit his lip. Surely Snape would notice that none of Harry’s own ingredients were out. He braced himself for it, but although Snape made brief eye contact with Harry and with Malfoy as well, he didn’t comment on the way they had divided their work. He turned instead to face the class at the front of the room.

“I believe you have an essay due today.” Snape looked at his students expectantly and after a second, those whose parchments were not already on their desks, hurried to retrieve them from their bags until every desk had a roll of parchment on top of it. Snape waved his wand and the essays rose off the desks and flew together to the front of the room to land in a neat pile on Snape’s desk.

“Ossifying Potion,” Snape began in a bored voice and spent the next 10 minutes lecturing the class on the finer points of “the brewing thereof” then with a fearsome glare, he ordered the students to begin.

Harry lit his cauldron, thinking how mellow Snape seemed today…well, mellow for Snape anyway. When Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him adjust the flames, Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly although he had no idea what he was expecting. Malfoy raised his pale brows but said nothing. Remembering suddenly Dumbledore’s departing words the other day in this very classroom, Harry asked quickly, “What’s with you, Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s grey eyes registered his surprise but then he answered smoothly, “I have no idea what you mean, Potter.” Harry grinned at the other boy’s snide tone. Now that was the Malfoy he had grown to know and despise.

“Sure, you don’t. You’ve been acting half-way decent for a change,” Harry informed him.

“Why thank you,” Malfoy said in a lilting voice and then began grinding his dried eel’s stomach, effectively turning his back to Harry.

Harry wished he could make a face at the infuriating Slytherin but decided it would be too childish, so he checked the ingredients list in his text and began working.

“You’re slicing it the wrong way.”

Harry looked up. Malfoy was staring critically at the knife in Harry’s hand. “What are you talking about, Malfoy? They’re diagonal cuts, just like it says in the book,” he protested.

“Please, Potter. Can’t you read? It clearly says ‘cut the root at a forty-five degree angle. You’re slicing at a sixty degree angle, at least,” Malfoy informed him, looking extremely put out.

“Oh, did it say forty-five?” Irritated, Harry pretended to peer interestedly at his book. “Don’t know how I missed that,” he drawled, feigning concern. Then, he glared at Malfoy. “Just do it yourself,” he snapped when Malfoy stared at him, nonplussed.

“Merlin, Potter, you do have a temper,” the other boy sniffed and began slicing another root, presumably at a precise forty-five degree angle.

“Problem, gentlemen?” Snape’s dark shadow loomed over their cauldron and both boys snapped their heads up, though there was not a trace of unease on Malfoy’s face. Harry on the other hand, felt ice form in the pit of his stomach. Here it was, then.

“Potter was just having trouble reading, sir. But don’t worry, I set him straight.” Snape’s black eyes narrowed into thin slits and Harry wondered why Snape was directing his livid glare at the Slytherin. But then Snape’s eyes trained on Harry and Harry forced himself to stay calm.

“Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points.” Harry blinked up at him. Snape moved on to the next pair without another word.

“Thanks, Potter,” Malfoy said, sounding so gleeful that Harry wanted to sick up all over the Slytherin’s expensive robes.

Harry ignored Malfoy for the rest of class, even to the point of refusing to hand the other boy ingredients that were on Harry’s side of the table. Malfoy though seemed genuinely unaware of Harry’s silent treatment, shrugging whenever Harry made no move to hand him something, and then reaching across Harry to get it himself. Harry knew very well that he was being childish, but this time he didn’t care.

Class ended much too slowly for Harry’s tastes and he was very relieved when Snape stopped pacing near Harry’s table and ordered the class to bottle their potions. Harry leaned over his cauldron, intending to do as instructed but his leg caught on his chair and he lurched forward, stumbling gracelessly into Snape. Snape reached for Harry’s wrist, automatically it seemed, to steady him.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry rushed to mumble but Snape didn’t appear to hear him. He was staring at Harry’s hand. With a jerking motion, Harry yanked his hand out of Snape’s grip, making him stumble again, this time knocking into his cauldron. Malfoy yelped as the contents splashed to the floor. There was utter silence as the metal cauldron clanged loudly against the dungeon’s stone floor.

Harry’s face flamed with mortification as everyone stared at him and then almost as a collective force they turned to Snape, waiting for the explosion. The Potions Master didn’t disappoint. With an angry swipe of his wand, the mess on the floor vanished and Snape snapped, “Pick up your cauldron!”

Harry quickly obeyed, up righting the pewter cauldron and hefting it back onto the table. For some reason, that made Malfoy laugh.

“Everyone else...out!” The other students scrambled to obey, packing up bags and rushing vials of their Ossifying Potion onto Snape’s desk.

“But Professor, what about my potion?” Malfoy asked indignantly.

“Out, Malfoy!” Harry cringed at the near-roar from the Professor. Malfoy raised his brows, clearly not appreciative of Snape’s tone and with a huff he followed his classmates out of the room.

As soon as the last student stepped over the threshold, Snape slammed the door and added his Charms before turning to Harry. Harry, remembering exactly how things had played out the last time they had both been in this room, backed up a few paces away from Snape’s wrath.

“Give me your hand,” Snape ordered as soon as he’d turned around.

“What?” Harry asked, confusion coating his voice. Losing his patience, Snape stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, turning it so that the scar was clearly visible. “It’s nothing, sir,” Harry insisted quickly, trying to pull his hand away but Snape held him firmly.

“How did you get this?” Snape demanded harshly, ignoring Harry’s words. “Did Umbridge do this to you?” he asked, his voice a dangerously low hiss when Harry stayed silent.

Harry nodded quickly, hoping Snape would just let go of him. He didn’t like the way the Potions Master was peering at him, as if he would like to systematically harvest all of his organs and bottle them one by one for storage in his office.

“You did not think to tell someone?” Snape asked sharply, his tone clearly indicating that even a simpleton should have known to do at least that much.

“Who was I going to tell? My parents?” Harry returned sarcastically. And then realizing who he was talking to, Harry looked away. Snape’s grip tightened on his hand as if in some sort of spasm and then Snape’s hold loosened.

Harry started to pull his hand away from the Professor and was taken aback when he felt a rough warmth against the scarred flesh. He looked down at his hand and watched, stunned, as Snape brushed his thumb lightly across the words, ‘I will not tell lies’. Harry stared up at his Professor. Snape lifted his head and Harry thought he glimpsed pain deep in the shadowed eyes.

“How many times did she do this?” Snape’s voice was strained.

Harry swallowed. “Just a few times,” he answered, keeping his answer deliberately vague.

Snape abruptly dropped Harry’s hand. “A scar from a blood quill cannot be magically removed,” he said, sounding much more the Professor than a moment before.

“What’s one more scar?” Harry shrugged.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “I did not realize you felt so apathetic about the Dark Lord’s scar.”

“I’m not apathetic,” Harry told him stiffly. “I’ve lived with it for fifteen years though. Umbridge’s is just one more thing to add to the list…no big deal,” he added with another shrug.

Snape worked his jaw a few times. “Torture of students is most certainly a ‘big deal’, and you should not claim otherwise,” the man told him coldly.

“Yeah, well…there’s more than one way to torture students, you know.” Harry wasn’t sure why he had said it, but he regretted it almost instantly as he watched Snape’s face pale slightly and then clench up in anger before smoothing into placid lines once again.

“Unless you want a failing grade on today’s potion, I suggest you get started on brewing a new one,” was all Snape said, his tone absolutely bland.

Harry stared at him. “You want me to brew another potion?” he asked, perplexed. When had the Potions Master ever allowed anyone another chance?

Snape looked down at him, no expression on his face as he answered, “You may do as you wish.”

“Okay,” Harry finally agreed and turned back to light his cauldron. He heard Snape’s robes swishing and Harry glanced up furtively to watch the Professor as he walked over to his desk. Having no idea what compelled him, he said quietly, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Snape turned slowly, his midnight robes sweeping across the stones, reminding Harry with a shiver, of the gently slithering motion of a snake. Snape stared at him for a protracted minute, and then said, “Do not apologize for speaking the truth.” His voice was completely unfeeling, but Harry remembered Remus’ words and recognized this as perhaps one of the times that Snape wanted to express some emotion but couldn’t. Harry felt a rush of pity for the Potions Master, but tried to hide it.

“Not all truths need to be said, sir.”

“I see you’ve been taking lessons with the Headmaster,” Snape replied after a pause. Harry stared. Had Snape just made a joke? Snape favored Harry with a slightly raised eyebrow and then turned back to his desk. Harry stared at him for a long time before starting his second Ossifying Potion of the afternoon.