1996

Taking a chance, Severus offered, “If you wish, you may spend the day in my private labs with me.”

Severus watched as Harry’s face lit up with a smile. “I’d like that, sir,” he agreed and Severus felt a rush of relief at his son’s words. He had not expected him to consent so readily.

Encouraged, Severus said in a conversational tone, “You decided to take on the Quidditch Captaincy.”

For some reason, Harry’s cheeks tinged red. “Yeah,” he nodded. After a hesitation, he elaborated with a shrug, “I was going to play anyway.” Then Harry’s face clouded over and Severus raised an eyebrow at his son’s sudden change in mood.

“It was your choice,” Severus told him, trying to make it clear that he was not angry that he had not taken his advice. Harry looked confused.

Clearly, the boy did not understand Severus’ message, but Harry surprised him by saying, “I know, sir.”

“Indeed. What then is the matter?” The words of concern came much more easily than Severus would have believed they could.

Harry looked away. Severus waited for Harry to collect himself, recognizing in his son his own habit of tempering an emotional response. When Harry turned back, he said quietly, “It was Remus who asked if I’d play even if I wasn’t Captain.”

Severus frowned, displeased that either Harry had sought out Lupin’s advice or that Lupin had offered it unasked. “And?” the Potions Master asked, more severely than he had intended. Harry’s eyes flashed in irritation and Severus regretted his harsh tone.

“He snapped at me in his office and it bothered me, alright?” Harry huffed. Severus held back a smile as his son crossed his arms across his chest in a decidedly Lily-like gesture. The halted smile seemed to annoy Harry though as he exclaimed, “Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you need to be happy that he upset me!” The hurt on Harry’s face was plain.

Severus stared at him, taken aback. He narrowed his eyes as he studied his son. “It does not make me happy that Lupin upset you.” It wasn’t precisely the truth even if Harry hadn’t used the word happy to describe the way Severus was feeling. And he knew perfectly well why Lupin would have been peevish with Harry. Something in Severus’ expression must have given him away as Harry was squinting suspiciously at him. Wanting to distract him, Severus asked evenly, “What did Lupin say?”

Harry ignored the question in favor of asking, “Did you say something to him?”

Severus shifted in rare discomfort. He was disinclined to share his earlier conversation with the werewolf. But Harry was watching him carefully; Severus set his jaw in determination, unwilling to lose the tenuous connection he now had with his son.

“I would not permit Lupin to speak with you about your Silencing Spell,” he admitted, Occluding his mind. Severus had no wish to lose his temper during the justifiably angry outburst that was sure to follow his statement. But Harry was gazing at him, his face stilled in contemplation.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Severus didn’t know what to make of Harry’s lack of response. Each time he felt as though he was getting to understand his son better, Harry would say or do something that the Professor could not have hoped to account for. The boy was utterly unpredictable and Severus had very little patience for the erratic behaviors that so obviously ruled the boy.

With a small nod, Severus stood slowly from his chair, keeping his movements carefully smooth. Harry was watching him warily though, most likely suspecting that Severus was annoyed. Severus sighed and gestured for his son to stand. Harry complied reluctantly. “No doubt you wish to speak to Lupin,” Severus intoned, utterly failing to keep the resentment from his voice.

Harry’s face smoothed into a smile and he nodded. Severus tensed. “Yeah, but he won’t be expecting me for another thirty minutes yet,” Harry noted with a shrug.

Severus’ eyebrows almost rose in considerable surprise, but he managed to resist the expression. “Perhaps then, we should use our remaining time in more productive pursuits,” he said curtly. Harry’s smile didn’t falter and Severus wondered briefly if he was allowing his emotions to show far more than he was intending as Harry didn’t seem at all fazed by Severus’ purposefully cold tone.

“Should I try my shields against you again?” Harry interrupted his thoughts.

Severus, feeling unsettled by the aftermath of Harry’s last attempt to keep his shields intact, wanted to refuse but it wouldn’t do to reveal such weakness to his son, so he nodded in agreement. He need only to apply a fraction of his earlier pressure against Harry’s storm; he had no desire to cause Harry any more pain this evening.

xxxxx

Harry had managed to fend off all of Snape’s remaining attacks after their short discussion about Remus. He suspected that the Professor was not seeking in earnest to get past his defenses, as he had earlier in the evening. Harry himself was feeling particularly vulnerable and edgy after what had passed between them and it was obvious that Snape felt the same way. But even through Harry’s discomfort, he felt happier than he had in months.

“Goodnight, sir,” Harry said at the end of the evening, trying not to yawn as he spoke, not wanting Snape to see how much the evening’s lesson had drained him.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Tired?” he asked, his voice lilting with suppressed sarcasm.

“A bit,” Harry admitted and Snape nodded briskly.

“Get some rest. As I noted already, you have stretched yourself far too thinly this term.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, a reaction that was beginning to feel all too familiar when he was around the Professor. He just nodded though, in favor of leaving without a fight. He was also getting anxious to talk to Remus now that he understood why his friend had been so irritable. Harry wanted to assure Remus that even though he and Snape were getting along better, he didn’t want things to change between them.

“I will, sir,” Harry promised.

“Goodnight then.” Snape’s voice, as it always was at the end of the evening, was harsh. Harry nodded at the Professor and threw down the Floo Powder he was grasping, calling for Remus’ office.

As soon as Harry appeared in Remus’ Floo, his friend stopped his pacing, his face washed in worry.

“Harry,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so brusque with you,” his friend apologized quickly as though he had been fretfully waiting to say the words, and the pained look on Remus’ face tugged at Harry’s heart.

“It’s all right, Remus,” Harry tried to assure him, but Remus was shaking his head.

“It’s not, Harry. Severus and I had words and I-”

“Snape told me,” Harry interrupted, wanting to stop the flow of Remus’ anxiety. It worked; Remus tilted his head in confusion.

“He did?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry told him, and then his cheeks warmed slightly as he looked intently at his friend. “Look, Remus, I know Snape’s jealous of you….I mean that you and I are close. And, well…I don’t want you to worry that…” Harry trailed off uncomfortably, not really knowing what he was trying to say and worrying that he might upset Remus further.

“Harry.” Remus’ voice was gentle. He took a step closer to his young friend. Remus put his hands securely on Harry’s shoulders. Harry looked up into Remus’ warm eyes. “I’m afraid the jealousy goes both ways. When Severus told me it wasn’t my place to tell you not to use that Silencing Spell, I was envious of the relationship that’s developing between the two of you. I was worried about losing you to Severus. I’m sorry I took those feelings out on you, Harry.”

Harry’s chest was glowing with Remus’ words, and not only because of his friend’s admission. “I don’t want to lose you either, Remus,” Harry told the other man thickly.

“Harry,” Remus said, his own voice heavy with emotion, “you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Harry nodded and not wanting to bawl for a second time that night, he took a deep breath and said shakily, “Thanks.”

Remus smiled, seeming somehow to understand that Harry had used up his emotional quota for the day as he gave the boy’s shoulders a quick squeeze and then dropped his hands again. “You look exhausted. Did everything go all right?”

“It was just harder than usual. I’m okay though,” he told his friend, hoping Remus would just believe him and not ask for details. Remus gave him a look, letting Harry know that he didn’t believe him one bit, but that he would respect Harry’s wishes, for which the young wizard was grateful.

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to the Tower,” Remus invited and Harry smiled.

He fell in step beside Remus and they walked through the castle together in companionable silence until they reached the Fat Lady. Trying not to sound too excited, Harry asked suddenly, “Did Snape really say that?”

Remus chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement, obviously knowing that Harry was referring to Snape’s demand that he not usurp his new role as Harry’s father. “Yes, Harry, he did,” Remus assured him. Harry coloured in pleased embarrassment. Remus tried to keep his further amusement at bay. “Go to bed, Harry,” he told his young friend, giving him a light push toward the Portrait.

Still smiling, Harry said, “Pariter,” and ducked in through the portrait hole. His smile brightened considerably when he saw Ginny, waiting for him on the sofa by the fireplace. He went and sat down next to her. He brushed a light kiss on Ginny’s lips. When he pulled back, she too was grinning at him, her brown eyes sparkling.

“Well, you’re happy. I’m guessing your lesson went well tonight.” she said as she closed her Care of Magical Creatures book.

Harry shrugged though, as he thought about the past few hours. “We dueled. It was better than last year though. Snape can actually teach when he tries,” Harry admitted. He settled in next to her, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“But?” Ginny asked, knowing that there was much more to the story.

Harry frowned in thought. “Near the end, Snape broke through my shields; it was even worse than the first time he did it…I sort of lost it,” he told her, his voice lowering with discomfort at the memory of crying into Snape’s chest.

Ginny squeezed his hand, imparting her strength to Harry. “What happened?” she asked.

Harry chewed his lower lip. “He was really nice about it. We talked about Sirius….he said I haven’t grieved yet for him.”

“He’s right,” Ginny told him gently, leaning further into Harry’s side.

“I suppose,” Harry said, still not wanting to dwell on this painful topic. He brought his hand up to Ginny’s neck and ran his fingers lightly through her soft hair. He was staring into the fireplace as he absently stroked the long tresses. “Gin?” he questioned finally.

“Hmm…” she murmured, enjoying the peace of the empty common room and the warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth.

“Do you think Hermione was right about my calling him Snape?” Harry asked, his voice sounding faraway.

Ginny twisted so she could look at him and she smiled at the mixed expression of hope and uneasiness on his face.

“I don’t know,” she told him carefully. “How do you feel about calling him Professor?” she asked, gauging his response in the way his eyes darted quickly down to look at her.

“I don’t usually don’t call him Professor, actually.”

“What do you call him, then?” Ginny asked in surprise.

Harry shrugged. “Mostly, just ‘sir’,” he answered, looking away.

“And, does he seem to mind?”

Harry snorted. “No. Can you imagine Snape objecting to being addressed as ‘sir’?” he asked. Ginny didn’t answer and Harry smiled again, enjoying watching as her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her softly between her eyebrows. When Ginny looked at him questioningly, Harry teased, “Just trying to smooth out your forehead a bit.” Ginny laughed.

“Why don’t you try that on my lips, instead?” she asked and Harry obliged, still grinning. The innocent kiss turned quickly into a full-blown snogging session. They were interrupted of course by Ron awhile later. Harry sighed as he pulled away from Ginny, wishing his friend didn’t have such bad timing.

Ron, looking distinctly disgruntled at finding his little sister in the middle of a songfest, sat heavily in the chair opposite the pair, frowning fiercely in Harry’s direction.

“Ignore him, Harry,” Ginny directed as she re-opened her textbook. “He’s just annoyed because he’s not doing the same thing with Hermione,” she said with a smirk.

Ron turned his glare toward his sister and muttered crossly, “Oh, shut up.”

“Hey,” Harry said lightly as he pulled out quill and parchment from his overly full bag, “don’t tell Ginny to ‘shut up’.” And then when Ron didn’t respond, he asked curiously, “You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

“No,” Ron said, leaning back in his chair, his glower still firmly in place. “Hermione’s in the library researching your mum’s Charm. She spends practically every minute in that damn library. She just threw me out…she said I was distracting her too much.”

Ginny laughed, but Harry leaned forward, frowning in concern. He didn’t want to cause problems between his newly coupled friends. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean for her to spend so much time trying to figure the Charm out. I’ll go talk to her if you want.”

But Ron shook his head resignedly. “It’s not your fault, Harry. Hermione’s having a ball trying to solve her little puzzle; she’s practically about to explode with excitement down there.” He made a face.

“You sure, Ron?” Harry asked, his features still filled with worry. Ron nodded but didn’t have time to respond further as Hermione burst into the room, out of breath, her hair in a tangled, sweaty mess around her face.

“Harry,” she panted as she rushed over to them. “Put up your Privacy Spell,” she ordered, her words choppy as she tried to catch her breath.

Harry paused, remembering Snape’s order not to use the Spell in public. But…this was Gryffindor Tower and technically, it wasn’t a public place so he it couldn’t really be included in Snape’s demand. Ignoring the niggling of his conscious, Harry erected the rather complex Spell quickly and Hermione dropped onto the low table in front of Harry; she thrust a thick book at him, the pages splayed open.

“Just look at this, Harry.”

Ginny and Ron had crowded around as well, all four of them peering at the paragraphs Hermione was pointing to. Harry squinted at the sentences, trying to understand what had Hermione so excited.

“Impenetrabiilis?” he asked.

Hermione nodded excitedly, pointing over Harry’s hand to the second paragraph on the page. “It’s like a Protego Charm…I think your mum actually charmed the skin on Snape’s arm so that Voldemort’s magic couldn’t bind with it…the Dark Mark couldn’t actually become a part of Snape’s arm, like the other Death Eaters’.”

“But didn’t we already know that, Hermione? I thought we decided there had to be more to the Charm than just a way for Snape to be free from the Mark’s pain.”

“Harry, look at the third paragraph.” Hermione demanded, sounding as though she really was about to burst, just as Ron had foretold.

Harry obeyed, scanning the lines quickly. He goggled at what he read. “But, that’s impossible!” he exclaimed as he re-read the sentences.

“I don’t think so,” Ginny disagreed, who had read quickly over his shoulder. “It says that the kind of ‘skin-tattoo magic’ that Voldemort used has been around for centuries. If your mum found the Impenetrabiilis Charm from this textbook, it makes sense that she would take it a step further.”

Even Ron was nodding by now, seeming to be in full agreement with both girls. “Where did you find this, Hermione?” he asked, flipping the book over so he could scan the title, Interwoven Bodily Charms of the Fifteenth Century.

“Professor Flitwick loaned it to me. I told him I was thinking about doing a special project about Charms used specifically on body parts,” Hermione said with a shrug, although she looked quite pleased with herself.

Harry however, was barely paying attention as he tried to figure out just what his mum and Snape had planned so many years ago. It didn’t make sense. He said so out loud to his friends, to which Hermione vehemently disagreed. Then Harry, in a mystified voice asked her, “But, then why the hell didn’t they finish Voldemort off?”

xxxxx

Harry was no closer to an answer the next day as he demonstrated an advanced Reducto Curse on one of the suits of armor which Remus had transfigured for the day’s lesson. This particular curse was even more powerful than the one Ginny had used in the Department of Mysteries but Harry had mastered it quickly and had agreed when Remus asked him to assist some of the other students.

All of the other Slytherins, including Malfoy had outright refused his help, so Harry concentrated his time instead on the two Ravenclaw girls who had nodded quickly when Harry had asked if they needed help, both of them blushing and giggling. Harry had almost retracted the offer as one of the girls brushed up deliberately against Harry’s arm as he’d shown her how to hold the wand.

Instead of abandoning them completely, Harry grabbed Neville to help him demonstrate so he wouldn’t have to deal with the giggling girls alone, thinking that Ginny probably wouldn’t appreciate their flirting. Neville had mastered the Curse quickly enough and after a few minutes of tutoring, Harry had left the girls to Neville and though Neville’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, he seemed content enough.

Harry wandered away from Neville, grinning as he listened to his friend stammering an explanation to one of the girls’ questions. He watched Ron and Hermione, each taking turns blasting a suit of armor and then headed toward Remus, who was demonstrating the proper pronunciation of the particular incantation. Harry waited patiently until Remus had finished and watched along with the Professor as Seamus reduced the suit of armor to dust. Harry congratulated his ecstatic bunkmate before Seamus went charging over to Dean to show off his newfound skill.

“Your fellows in the D.A. are catching on to everything we do much faster than the rest of the students,” Remus mused to Harry, his face gleaming in approval as he watched Dean perform almost as well as Seamus had a moment before.

Harry nodded. “I know. It was a brilliant idea,” he agreed, glancing at Hermione and Ron.

Remus followed his gaze. “It was a wonderful idea, Harry. But, you made it work. You gave all those students confidence….Have you ever considered becoming a teacher when you graduate?” he asked, his tone very serious.

But Harry laughed at the thought. “Me?” He shook his head, unable to imagine himself as Professor Potter. “I’m still thinking of becoming an Auror,” he told his friend.

“You’d do wonderfully as an Auror,” Remus told him as he nodded. Harry and Remus watched as a Malfoy and Zabini tried repeatedly to blast a suit of armor, but with little luck. “Harry,” Remus said after Malfoy finally managed to turn the suit’s head to little bits, “I have a message for you, if you’ll stay after class for a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry told him, knowing immediately who the message was from and since Remus hadn’t sounded stressed, Harry didn’t think there was anything to worry about.

He was glad however when class ended shortly afterward, giving Harry little time to dwell on the possibilities of what Snape could want. Ron and Hermione followed him up to Remus’ desk and Remus, though he glanced at his friends briefly, he didn’t object to their inclusion.

“Severus spoke to me this morning at breakfast. He wants you to earn yourself a detention in class tomorrow, with behavior severe enough to warrant you missing Hogsmeade on Saturday.”

Harry’s insides twisted. He didn’t like the sound of this at all. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to pretend I’m sick?” he asked, not liking the idea of antagonizing Snape in front of the class, no matter how staged it would be.

“I suggested that to Severus, but he insisted,” Remus told him, shaking his head a bit, probably in annoyance at Snape’s obvious pig-headedness.

Harry rubbed his palms together nervously. “What in Merlin’s name does he expect me to do that would be bad enough for him give me a Saturday detention?” he wondered aloud.

“You could blow up a cauldron,” Ron suggested, a little too eagerly. “Or…you could hex Malfoy,” he added, the glee now evident in his voice.

Harry made a face at him. “I really don’t think Snape was thinking along the lines of me hexing one of his Slytherins.”

Hermione cut in quickly as Ron tried to make another suggestion. “If you’re really disrespectful to him, it would perfectly believable for Snape to get angry enough to give you a detention on a Hogsmeade Saturday.”

Harry bit his lip, liking this idea least of all. He would, after all, need to be exceptionally rude to pull that off. For some reason, now that he knew Snape was his father, he just couldn’t fathom being purposefully rude to him. So he shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that,” he told them.

Hermione, instead of looking surprised, nodded as though she understood exactly why Harry wouldn’t want to insult Snape. Remus was nodding as well. Ron looked predictably skeptical at the idea that Harry couldn’t find some sort of insult to throw at Snape.

xxxxx

Harry was so nervous about Potions class the next day, he was very nearly late; he slid into his seat just as Snape was storming into the classroom. Harry breathed a sigh of relief only to have it hitch again with anxiety as Snape glared down at him as he scrambled to assemble his ingredients.

“Five points for tardiness, Potter,” he snapped and Harry felt the heat of anger rising in his cheeks; other students were still assembling their own ingredients. Harry just hoped this was part of the Potions Master’s act.

It was hard to believe though as Snape continued to glare at him until Harry finally muttered, “Yes, sir.” Snape spun away from him and began lecturing the class, calling on students randomly.

He called on Harry somewhere in the middle of the lecture and when Harry wasn’t able to answer the question to Snape’s satisfaction, the Professor sneered, “You do realize, Potter, that this is N.E.W.T. level Potions…or did you think you had stumbled into a first year class?”

“No, sir,” Harry bit out, trying desperately not to snap at the man. What the hell did Snape think he was doing?

Snape regarded Harry coldly. “Your answers are frequently pedantic and lacking in any coherent thought; perhaps a day spent with first years would do you some good.”

“And perhaps a day spent with anyone other than Death Eaters would do you some good, you-” Harry snapped, only just stopping himself from calling the Potions Master something he would definitely regret later.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and the expression on his face became positively grim. “Mind your tongue, Potter, before you find it in one of the jars in my private stores…I think a detention this evening will encourage you to keep a civil tone when you are speaking to me.”

Harry’s own eyes narrowed as he glared at Snape. Detention tonight? What had happened to a Saturday detention? This definitely wasn’t an act then, Harry realized as he sat staring at the Professor, whose black eyes by now were boring into Harry’s. Harry knew the man was waiting for a response; well, he could wait the rest of class…Harry wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not if Snape was going to play by the old rules.

“Have your ears been clogged by a Deafening Potion, Potter?” Snape finally spat, taking a step closer to Harry’s table.

“No,” Harry assured the angry Professor, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then you will answer me when I speak to you.” Snape’s snarled command echoed in the now silent classroom; all eyes were on Harry and Snape, most mouths twisted in surprise at Harry’s behavior. The Slytherins of course were all smirking…even Malfoy this time.

“If you prefer,” Harry said with an overconfident shrug. A vein began to pulse in Snape’s temple and Harry knew he’d gone too far. He swallowed nervously as Snape advanced on him. Snape leaned down toward Harry, his palms resting on the table, in a fair imitation of their first meeting after Harry’s third trip into the Pensieve. Harry leaned back.

“Your insolence will not be tolerated, Potter. Your have just lost yourself Hogsmeade privileges this Saturday. Now-get-out-of-my-classroom.” Each word was an explosive syllable and Harry, with ice clenching up against his heart, shoved himself to his feet. He fumbled for his bag, trying to ignore the stares of his classmates as he turned swiftly toward the door.

Once he had escaped the classroom, Harry kept going, swiftly navigating the winding corridors of the dungeons almost without thought. When he reached the ground floor again, he continued through the entrance doors and onto the grounds, his pace rapidly increasing to a run. Harry had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to get away. From everything.

xxxxx

Severus brought his hands to his temple and rubbed at the burgeoning headache with his fingertips as he watched the students entering the Great Hall for dinner. Why for Merlin’s sake, hadn’t he just taken the wolf’s advice and allowed Harry to feign an illness on Saturday? Severus knew the answer of course, but even the promise of the Dark Lord’s downfall seemed insignificant next to the prospect of losing his son again.

He hadn’t meant to let his temper turn the conversation quite so ugly. But Severus had seen the look on his son’s face when he’d told him to get out and the Potions Master knew instantly that he’d taken the charade too far. Harry’s obvious discomfort and confusion about Severus’ intentions at the beginning of the class had stirred feelings of pain in him and he’d wanted to end the chance of any more interactions with Harry. Harry’s expulsion from the classroom had seemed the ideal solution…until Severus had to watch his son flee from the room, like some sort of frightened animal.

Of course, his annoyance with Harry had already been firmly in place before class had even begun. Severus was well aware that the boy had ignored his clear instruction not to raise a Privacy Shield where others could discover it. He supposed however, that it had been an inappropriate time to vent his frustration. But why was it that Harry couldn’t even follow the simplest instructions?

And Severus hadn’t been expecting Harry’s verbal sparring to be quite so cutting and though he didn’t like to admit it, his son’s comment about Death Eaters had wounded him. Especially because the Potions Master knew Harry had insulted him in anger, not with any calculation. Severus tried to put aside the pointless recriminations. He would simply explain to Harry during his ‘detention’ that he had planned the initial remarks. Perhaps then, his son would not need to hold on to any lingering distress.

Severus thoughts had wandered along the same path for the better part of the past few hours and he was frankly relieved that in less than an hour, Harry would arrive in his classroom and they could end this discomfort. Severus scanned the Hall for Harry as the students continued to trickle into the room.

He narrowed his eyes as he saw Weasley and Ms. Granger, his son’s constant companions, enter the room alone. Ms. Weasley came in soon after that, hurrying to her brother and Ms. Granger. Ms. Weasley spoke, which was followed by a nervous shrug from Ms. Granger. A few more words passed between the clearly confused trio and then the Weasley girl’s eyes flashed up to Severus, her face lit in angry accusation. Then she said something to Harry’s other friends and spun on her heel, stomping from the room, leaving two very worried-looking Gryffindors in her wake. Severus watched her go, his mind working feverishly.

“Severus,” Lupin greeted him as he took his place beside the Potions Master. Severus knew immediately from Lupin’s easy tone that Harry had not gone to the werewolf to discuss this afternoon’s events. Instead of relieving him, Severus’ gut clenched in panic.

Harry had clearly been distraught earlier and if he hadn’t spoken with Lupin and wasn’t in the Great Hall as his friends thought he should have been, then where the hell was he? Without a word, Severus stood up and hurried out of the great hall, not caring in the least that Minerva would most likely want to have words about his abrupt departure from dinner.