Harry stood outside Snape's office with Ron, even more reluctant than usual to enter. Ron's presence helped, but Harry still felt unsettled from the brief conversation with Snape only half an hour before, and he knew that Snape would be mad about him not paying attention in Potions. All in all, it was not a good setup, and Harry felt anxiety tense his shoulders even as he knew that nothing real would happen with Ron there. He knocked.

“Enter.”

Snape was standing in front of his desk, and Harry went in and walked up to stand in front of him as usual, Ron at his side. He gave Snape blank-face, and Snape looked back at him, seeming puzzled, but didn't press, instead asking, “Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodial to an infusion of Wormwood?” The question was asked with less vitriol than the previous time, and Harry looked at him in confusion. What's this about?

“I don't know, sir.”

“How about you, Weasley?”

Ron looked up, clearly startled, and stuttered, “I d-don't know either, sir.”

“That is interesting, both of you, considering we went over both ingredients in class today.”

Ron went a little green behind his freckles, but Harry just shrugged. He'd known while he was talking to Ron that he wasn't absorbing anything from the lesson, and it came as no surprise that Snape knew it as well. There was no reason to get any more nervous than he already was over it, especially with Ron there. The only thing that bothered him, and he couldn't quite figure out why, was that Snape had called him 'Mr. Potter' again. He usually didn't, in private, and Harry figured it was probably for Ron's benefit, but it still felt strange. Then he looked into Snape's eyes, and something else bothered him: the man looked...unhappy. Not angry, precisely, but...not happy with him. He found he didn't like it, and looked away.

“Well, Gentlemen?” Severus finally asked, “Anything to say?” When neither boy answered, he prompted, “Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked back up. “Harry.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Harry. You use it in private, you can use it around Ron.”

Severus looked at Harry for a moment, surprised. He cares what I call him? That was...strange. Encouraging. Dangerous as hell. “You are correct. I apologize, Harry.” Ignoring the Weasley boy, whose eyes were like to pop out of their sockets, and Harry's own somewhat confused reaction, he continued. “Anything to say, Harry?”

“No.”

“Mr. Weasley?”

Ron shook his head, still looking shell shocked.

“Very well. Come with me then, both of you.”

He lead them back to his classroom, and pointed them towards a large pile of dirty cauldrons he had prepared, explaining that the potions prepared in them were too volatile to be cleaned off magically. “Which means, of course, that you'll have to scrub them by hand.”

Ron groaned, but Harry didn't comment. Scrubbing was something he could do.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Two and a half hours later, Severus called both exhausted boys up to his desk to talk. “What do you have to say for yourself?” When neither chose to answer, he prompted, “Harry?”

“I was writing notes in class.”

“Yes, you were. And?”

Harry spoke neutrally. “I really don't know what you want me to say, sir.”

“I'd like you to at least acknowledge that your actions were disrespectful.”

“Fine, I was disrespectful.” He didn't sound particularly repentant, and Severus closed his eyes in frustration. Patience, patience. “Harry...”

“Why do you care? It's not like we were disrupting the class, or anything.”

“I didn't say you were. I said you were disrespecting me. You will apologize, please.”

“No.”

“Or you will spend the next half hour with your nose to the wall.”

That made Harry pause. He looked at Severus, and then subtly at Ron, then back at Severus. The plea was muted, but nevertheless clear: Not in front of him, please. Severus just raised his eyebrows, - then you'd better behave. - and Harry had to admit defeat. “Yes sir.” Damn you. Snape acted as if it was completely the same to him whether Harry apologized or went to the corner, but Harry knew which he was actually looking for. Snape knew perfectly well that Harry wouldn't choose the corner, just as Harry knew that 'neither' was not an option. Clenching his teeth, Harry bit out his apology. “I apologize for my behavior, sir.”

Snape sighed, and met his eyes, that look in them even stronger than before, even though he still didn't seem particularly angry. “And you will you do differently next time?”

Harry looked away, suddenly tired of arguing. “I'll try, sir.”

“Better.”

Harry straightened up as Snape transferred his attention onto Ron. “And you, Mr. Weasley?”

“Sorry sir,” Ron hastily said, eying Harry incredulously, “Won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn't.”

“Blimey, he's like nice to you,” Ron commented once the two of them were out of detention and back in the Slytherin common room with the other Slythindors.

Not this AGAIN. Harry groaned. “That was nice??”

“Are you kidding? Compared to how he'd treat me if I talked to him that way? I'd have another detention, at least! I can't believe that you're still alive!” Ron exclaimed.

“Ron, I survived turning his hair rainbow and filling his office with farm animals, it's not that surprising that I survived detention.”

“Okay, maybe not, but that's not really my point. I mean, sure, you get away with a lot, but he's also nice to you. Didn't you notice?” The others looked up at that, curiously.

“Umm...he made me scrub cauldrons and apologize to him for talking in class?”

“He apologized to you! He didn't insult you once! He didn't even insult me while you were there! And you – you made him call you Harry! He calls everybody by their last name. All the professors do!”

Harry frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah I- don't really know why I did that, honestly, but he usually calls me Harry.”

“And it bothers you when he doesn't,” Blaise pointed out, suddenly thoughtful.

Harry grimaced. “Don't worry: if I start to like him you have my permission to give me a quick and painless death.”

Blaise emitted a noise that was halfway between a snort and a cough, but didn't answer. Harry turned back to Ron.

“Come on, Ron, you're a Gryffindor, and you hate Snape. Surely you can conceive of putting honor and reputation before common sense and killing me if go insane?”

“Hey!! Just 'cause I'm a Gryffindor doesn't mean I'm an idiot! Snape would kill me!”

Harry snorted. “You're no help. Anybody else?”

“Harry,” Hermione finally put in huffily, “that is not funny. Why on earth would you want someone to kill you for liking Snape?”

“Hermione! You're a logical sort. Given all current factors, we can safely assume if I decide to like Snape that someone has messed with my head or I've gone criminally insane. Kill me before I decide to hop off and join the Dark Lord, would you?”

“Don't call him that,” protested Ron and the same time as Hermione exclaimed, “That's not funny, Harry!”

“I thought it was funny,” contributed Theo, “and besides, everybody calls him the Dark Lord. It sounds dumb to call him 'You-Know-Who'.”

A tense silence fell, finally broken by Ron's tentative, “uh, Theo? Not everybody calls him that. It's- uh- it's sort of a Death Eater thing.”

The silence fell again, until Blaise asked curiously, “I've been wondering about that, actually. How's your Da about you being friends with a blood traitor, a mu-muggle-born, and Harry Potter?”

“It's a little weird, but he's kinda happy about it, actually. He says it'll be good for me later. He's actually less happy with me associating with you, though I've never figured out why.”

“Seems logical, to me,” put in Hermione thoughtfully. “I mean, if he wants you to be a Death Eater, then maybe he'd want you to make good Death Eater friends, but what if he doesn't?”

Theo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well think about it. Politically, if your father's a Death Eater, and you don't want to be, then you'd better be careful, right? With the ministry and stuff? But if you're friends with Harry Potter, it makes it pretty clear you're not a Death Eater. No offense, Blaise, but that's lots less clear with you.”

Blaise shrugged. “It's no secret I'm supposed to be a Death Eater, is it? I'm surprised Ron's family lets him hang with me, actually, or with Theo.”

“They don't know,” Ron put in shortly. “I'm not stupid. I had to beg Percy not to tell, though.”

The Slytherins looked at Ron in surprise.

“Wow, Ron, thanks!” Theo exclaimed enthusiastically.

Ron's ears turned red and he shrugged. “No problem. I had to make friends with somebody, didn't I? And they're happy with me hanging with Harry, and he's lots scarier than Theo, isn't he?” They all laughed.

“Thanks, guys,” Harry said sarcastically, “love you, too.”

“Truth hurts, doesn't it?” Blaise said mock-sympathetically, “We feel your pain. Us scary people've got to stick together.”

“Yep. We should form a club of scary people and lord it over all the non-scary people. And everybody with blond hair. 'Cause we're superior.” Put in Theo.

“Death Eaters: next Gen.” Put in Hermione, giggling.

“Hey! No giggling. We're scary people, remember? We're important.”

“Can we have a no-actual-Death-Eaters allowed policy on our new scary-supremacy club?” Asked Harry, “Otherwise we'd have to invite Snape, and then we'd be back to me committing hara-kiri. I'm really not prepared for that, honestly.”

“Can do,” declared Theo, “no current or former Death Eaters allowed. This is our scary-supremacy club.”

“Snape's not a Death Eater,” Hermione said, sounding less sure than her words would indicate, “Dumbledore wouldn't hire-”

She cut off when the three Slytherins looked at her in disbelief. “You wanna bet on that, Hermione?” Asked Blaise.

“Surely-” Hermione started again, “surely-”

“He used to be, and he's real friendly with my Da,” said Theo.

“And my guardians,” said Blaise, “and Malfoy's parents.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully. That Snape had been a Death Eater came as no surprise to him, but it made things complicated now. Eh, if he wanted to kill me, he'd've done it already. “But he has a thing about my parents, especially my mo- Mrs. Potter. He insists that I be grateful to them. He even gave me photos.”

Blaise gave him a strange look at his reference to his mother, then frowned. “Huh. That does seem a bit suspicious, doesn't it?”

“And he's Harry Potter,” Hermione added, “surely he wouldn't be so nice to him if he were a Death Eater?”

“He might want to make friends with him, to betray him later when the Dark Lord can see,” argued Blaise, but he didn't sound convinced.

“He's hardly sucking up to me,” put in Harry, “I could hardly see him giving me detention all the time if he just wanted to manipulate me.” He frowned deeper at that. And I just defended Severus Snape. Shoot me now, someone.

“And so the verdict is...?” Ron insisted.

“Independently evil, but not a Death Eater.” Harry answered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise's frown deepen, but turned away when Ron spoke up.

“Hey, Harry? You said Snape gave you photos. Could we see?”

Harry's first impulse was to snap at him, but he throttled it down. “Why?”

Suddenly Theo looked really excited. “They're famous, too! And they're your parents! And we can make fun of you as a chubby baby! I wanna see!”

Harry swallowed. “I – all I have are pictures of Mrs. Potter. I don't have any of James.”

Surprisingly, it was Hermione that picked up on his reluctance. “It's all right, Harry. You don't have to show us. We're just- curious.” She smiled briefly at Blaise, apparently forgiving him for the week before. “We'll get over it.”

That calmed Harry somewhat. Maybe she'll leave me alone about the other stuff if I show her this? Theo's face shone with hope. “It's – it's okay,” he said reluctantly. “I'll show you.”

Two minutes later he stood in front of his trunk with the envelope in his hands. What did I just sign up for? I don't even want to see these again, let alone show them to someone else! What am I thinking?!

Slowly, reluctantly, Harry sat on his bed with the envelope, and opened it. On top was the picture of his mother holding him in her arms, too distracted by him to pay attention to the whoever was behind the camera. Harry's throat closed and he put the picture aside. That one's mine. He flipped through the others quickly to avoid letting his emotions take over, taking out two more as he went – one of his mother bathing him in the sink, covered in water and laughing as he splashed, and another that was clearly taken just after he was born – he didn't want his friends to see that much of his mother's skin, whether he'd known her or not. The others he put carefully back in the envelope and, throttling back his emotions, brought downstairs.

“Here,” he said, handing the envelope to Hermione stiffly. Blaise looked up at him and Harry could read the question on his face. He lifted his chin challengingly, and Blaise smiled, apparently reassured.

The first photo to come out was one of the ones of his mother at Hogwarts, with the scowling dark-haired boy.

“Ooooo she's pretty,” said Theo, at the same time Ron asked, “Who's the other bloke?”

“I dunno,” answered Harry. “One of her friends I guess. I'm supposed to look like my- like James, though, so it's not him.”

“We could look it up,” commented Hermione, “if we looked for a record of people at Hogwarts at the same time as your parents, maybe we could find an all-school photo. They took them, sometimes, back then. It would probably even be labeled-” She had that look in her eyes that she got when she had a project, and Harry moved quickly to stave her off. He wanted to get this over with.

“Later, maybe.”

The next photo showed him fighting his mother for the spoon she'd been using to feed him. He had it gripped in his teeth, apparently refusing to give it back.

“Pain in the arse even then.” Blaise commented, smiling slightly. Harry blushed. This isn't so bad, I guess...

The next photo showed Lily holding Harry on her hip while she worked at the stove. He was smiling broadly, his hands wrapped in her hair, and Harry noticed something that he hadn't before.

“Look at her hair!”

The others looked, and Theo let out a surprised laugh. The length of hair wrapped in the baby's tiny fist was bright, bubblegum pink.

Hermione laughed. “You couldn't just drool in it, like a normal baby, Harry?”

“Of course not!” Defended Ron indignantly, “He's a wizard! He could never do something that undignified!”

“Umm, Ron?” Started Blaise gently, “You might want to look at the next one before you claim that.”

Harry and Ron looked down at the same time, and Harry blushed again. Someone had apparently made the mistake of giving him a bowl full of banana slices. In the picture he was busy mashing them up on the counter-top with his fists, sending banana mush all over the kitchen. And there was his mother, hands on her hips and attempting to glare, when it was blatantly obvious that she couldn't really manage it. As the picture moved, a bit of banana flew to land directly on her forehead, and Harry laughed.

“Umm...yeah, okay. I lose.” Admitted Ron.

“I'm very dignified!” Harry defended. “Warfare is a messy business!”

That was too much for Theo and Hermione, who burst into helpless giggles.

“Wait 'till I see your baby pictures,” said Harry, mock-scowling. “I'm sure you all ate your duck foie gras on toast with the utmost seriousness and dignity.”

“Not really,” admitted Theo, still laughing, “I actually remember using a spoon to shoot peas at my Da's head at a fancy dinner party.”

Severus stood outside of Dumbledore's office and glared at the gargoyle, who promptly sprung aside. He walked impatiently up the magical escalator and into Dumbledore's office, barely waiting for the door to open for him. Before the Headmaster had the chance to offer the usual tea, biscuits, and lemon drops, he spoke.

“Tell me, Headmaster, is it your intention to have me killed?”

Albus looked up at Severus calmly. “My boy, I haven't the foggiest idea of what you are going on about.”

“The boy, Albus. You said you intended for me to mentor him. You apparently did not consider the fact that doing so could mean my life.”

Albus frowned. “I see no reason why it should put you in more danger than you were already courting in the days of your spying.”

“Then you are blind, old man. The boy demands that I treat him in public the same as in private. Of course he does! How could he ever trust me, otherwise? Do you realize just how fast it is going to come out, soon, that I am protecting the Boy-Who-Lived? And you expect me to keep spying for the Order?!”

“No, I don't.” Albus answered, still calm.

“And- you- you don't.”

“Of course not. Contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot, Severus. I knew that if this relationship with Harry worked, you would have to someday giving up spying. I admit that I had not expected it this soon...”

“You- you knew. If you knew this would interfere with my spying, then why did you demand it?! I am a spy, Albus. That is who I am, that is all I am worth to you. How can the Order possibly use me, if not as a spy?”

“I was under the impression that you hated spying, Severus.”

“Of course I did! Even if my tastes did run to pain, I will never be crazy enough to enjoy my place in the Death Eater ranks. This is the price I pay, Albus. I took the mark; I killed Lily. The least I can do is-”

“Care for her son. I judged it more important.”

I could clear my name. All of the suspicion, the angry glances. I could openly council my students away from the Dark Lord. “I will die, Albus. Others may not care, but the Malfoys and the Lestranges, at least, will not take it kindly that I have turned traitor to their Lord.”

“I thought you said Narcissa's loyalties were primarily to Draco?”

“They are, but Lucius, at least, would kill me on site if he could get away with it, and I do not want to face Narcissa if she thinks my choice has endangered her son. And certainly Bellatrix could do the job all on her own.”

“I think you sell yourself short.”

“I don't. I am a skilled duelist, Albus, but I cannot compete with a being of fanatic devotion and berserker rage. The woman knows no fear, and no thought that does not coincide with the Dark Lords wishes.”

“You make her sound like some sort of creature.”

“That's not entirely inaccurate, Albus. I have never seen such madness, even in the Black family. But no matter, it is too late to worry for my mortality. At least the other Order members will finally know for sure that I have renounced the Dark Lord.” I'll be free. Finally, finally, I can be free of the Dark Lord. Finally I can show those bastards than I am more than dirt under their feet. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at that, for the few in the Order who, like Minerva, had trusted him. However much he fought with the older woman, he had always been grateful to her for that. Despite her, though, the idea of throwing his true loyalties in the Order's face gave him a feeling of fierce satisfaction.

Albus looked sad. “No, Severus.”

“No?”

“No, we cannot announce your innocence to the world. It would mark you as a target as quiet realizations would not. I know that having you openly protect Harry Potter has put you in danger, Severus, but I would minimize it, if I can, for Harry's sake, and mine, if you do not care.”

Severus felt his face still. “You would have all of the more intelligent Death Eaters know that I was a spy, and those on our side remain in ignorance. You would have me hated by both sides.”

“Not hated, Severus. There are members of the Order who do not trust you, Severus, but-”

“Spare me your platitudes, old man. There are many more Death Eaters that trust me than Order members. That was how you intended it, what made me a good spy. Merlin, Albus I have friends in the Death Eater ranks. And you would have them know of my betrayal, and no-one else. You would destroy my purpose, reveal my betrayal to those who cared about me, and allow others to continue to revile me for crimes that I have committed in your name, under your orders, and not the Dark Lord's. You are my general, Albus, and I will obey your wishes, but do not expect me to be happy about it.”

“Severus-”

“No. There are times, Headmaster, when I think less on why I once hated you and more on whether I don't still. You cannot fix this. Do not try.” Severus turned on his heel and left without another word.

“Excuse me, Severus.”

“I am occupied, Minerva.” Snape said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

“It is urgent.”

“Tell the Headmaster I do not wish to speak with him.” He said coldly.

“What about urgent do you not understand, Severus?”

“Not tonight, Minerva!”

Minerva seemed to finally pick up on his mood. “Please, Severus. I need to know if you are missing any of your students.”

“Missing? I assure you, Minerva, that I keep very good track of my students. If I were missing any, the prefects would have alerted me, this being after curfew. If you are missing any of your students I can assure you it has little to do with me. I renounced eating them years ago.”

“This is not funny, Severus! I am missing two of my students!”

“And I reiterate that this has little to do with me.” Leave me alone, woman. I have no patience for your hysteria.

“It does if they are in your common room! I'll have you know that the students in question are a certain Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. If you are not missing your three, then the likelihood is that my lions are with them in your common room! And if you are, the likelihood is that they are all off wandering the castle somewhere! Now get off your rump and let me in to your common room, dammit!”

“Fine, cursed woman! I'm coming.”

“Who's he?” Theo wanted to know, looking at a picture of Harry and his mother next to an unhealthy-looking man in beat-up robes.

“How should I know? Some friend of my- my mother's- I guess.” Harry said. Blaise gave him a slight smile.

Just then, the portrait hole opened and the five looked up, surprised to see an absolutely irate Professor McGonagall enter the Slytherin common room, followed closely by a neutral-looking Professor Snape. Harry bit his lip. That's not neutral. He's pissed about something.

“Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, would you care to explain what you are doing in the Slytherin common room an hour after curfew? I have been looking for you all over the castle!”

Hermione looked horrified. “Professor McGonagall! Oh my goodness, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I just forgot where we were and lost track of time!”

“Forgot where you were?” The Professor sounded very skeptical.

“Well, we were in a common room, Professor. I guess we...kinda forgot that it wasn't ours?” Ron tried helpfully.

“Be that as it may, Mr. Weasley, you are required to keep track of the time and be in your common room at half past ten. Both of you have detention with me tomorrow night, and five points each from Gryffindor. Now come along, both of you.”

Ron and Hermione followed the Professor out, Hermione looking mortified and Ron resigned, leaving the other three with Snape.

Harry looked up anxiously. Are we in trouble, too? With him this pissed off?

When Snape looked at him and scowled, however, Blaise got up abruptly and approached the Potions Master. Someone has a death wish, Harry reflected. Of all times to approach the man...