Harry, of course, promptly sat right back down. He was suddenly very sure that he didn't want to move from where he was sitting on Snape's cramped little sofa.

"Snape…"

Snape raised an eyebrow slightly. "They are all members of the Order. I thought it prudent." Tugging a bit at his waistcoat, Snape sat back down as well.

A part of Harry was thrilled – way more than that, really – but a part of him was also fucking terrified. "No one… Do they…remember?" he asked, voice hushed.

Snape's eyes considered him very closely. "Some, to some extent. Minerva, for example, as we have discussed before. She has only forgotten about the Boy Who Lived. You yourself, pesky little brat that you are, she remembers quite clearly." Snape's voice was dry and heavily amused.

Harry sat up straight, eyes narrowed in indignation. "I am not pesky!"

"No? My mistake," Snape drawled. Then he cleared his voice and reassumed his serious manner. "Harry, they have all forgotten entirely about your moniker—"

"Why didn't you?" Harry interrupted. Harry bit his lip. He hadn't realised it earlier, when him and Snape had first talked about, about…why no one seemed to know who he was any more. "You know. You didn't forget."

Snape's jaw set. "I have the Dark Mark. The others don't. I have been in touch with you periodically since the summer. I would wager it's a combination of the two. If my theory is correct, then most children of the Death Eaters will know who you are as well. The Dark Lord still mentions you when he Summons us."

Harry blinked. "Oh," was all he said.

Snape ran a hand through his hair. While neat, it didn't look as if Snape had bothered to either brush it or wash it recently. Mostly, Harry knew, the man just fixed his hair with either his wand or his fingers. "While the Headmaster has remembered everything about you, I would guess that's because he most likely Obscured you in the first place. Bill Weasley, probably because his position as a Curse Breaker, seems to remember the most of the Order members I asked to join us today."

Harry's throat felt impossibly tight. "Snape?" he whispered. Not necessarily because of what Snape had just said, but rather because of the thought that had just occurred to Harry.

Snape looked a bit startled, then fixed his eyes on Harry. "Yes?"

"If…if no one knows I'm the Boy Who Lived any more, could…could you adopt me, then?"

Snape's eyes widened almost comically.

Harry was studying the non-existent pattern on the rug lying on the floor very intently. "I know you said earlier that you wouldn't mind if, if you had a kid who turned out to be like me, and I was thinking that, that…I'd really like it if you did, so, I was just really wondering if you actually could, I mean, if you want to, 'cause I really do, but," Harry babbled, oblivious to everything going on around him. At least he was right up until the moment where Snape reached out a hand tugged Harry's chin up with a finger.

"I am in the middle of a discussion as to what the various members the Order remember," Snape began, brows furrowed, "while you are busy contemplating becoming a Snape. I am not certain whose priorities are the most straight, here. Did you at least listen to a fraction of what I said?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, "but…I don't care if they don't know I'm the bloody Boy Who Lived. I've always really fucking hated that," he spat. Then he cast a contrite look at Snape, as if to apologise for cussing. Or, perhaps, for what he was about to say. "And, I mean, it sounded like you were sort of rambling anyway," Harry hurriedly added. "And I was just thinking…"

Snape rolled his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his crooked nose in what was, Harry guessed, probably annoyance. "Harry, I was not rambling."

"My point was better," Harry interjected, just a bit sullen.

"From a personal point of view, certainly. From a broader perspective, however…" Snape trailed off meaningfully. "In the long run, I do believe my point was the most pertinent one. Or do you wish to be forgotten by your friends forever?"

Harry nodded, feeling his ears heat up a little. "No, I mean, I don't, but…"

"Yes?"

Harry threw Snape a sly glance. Only his restless hands betrayed his uncertainty; the nervousness that was bubbling inside of him. "I kinda want a dad, too."

Snape cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. "Yes, well. Perhaps this discussion—"

"But…would you?" Harry interjected, quick as lightning, before Snape could suggest that they'd talk about it later.

Snape shifted a little. "I would not be…averse to the idea. I've said as much before."

Harry beamed at Snape, then shifted as well, until he was slouching properly in his corner of the sofa. Snape merely rolled his eyes.

"Well, then. Where was I?" After a short pause, Snape nodded to himself, then launched back into the 'discussion' he'd been having before. Harry silently wondered if Snape discussed with himself a lot, or if it merely was a glorified way of—

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his thigh as he shot Snape an indignant glare. "What d'you pinch me for?"

"You were not paying attention," Snape said primly. Only his eyes betrayed his amusement. "There is no spell or ritual powerful enough to completely Oblivate an entire nation of people, Harry. Oblivate works only at one person at the time, at close range, and is full of risk if you don't know what you are doing. Even then, it is not a spell that will succeed on everyone it's cast on. A person with strong enough magic can resist it, as can a particular headstrong person, or a skilled Occlumens. What the Dark Lord did was not an Oblivate.

"His ritual made sure that all memory of you was pushed to the very back of everyone's minds. He made sure that thinking of you would make the thinker highly uncomfortable. With the Obscurity put on you removed, I believe your mere presence will start jiggling the memories of your friends."

"You really—" Snape held up a finger. Harry closed his mouth.

"I am not sure, no. In any case, if it does work the way I believe it will, then it will only work on those who felt strongly about you before this whole ordeal was set in motion. A stranger would have no reason to confront the uncomfortable feelings you evoke in them."

Harry felt his hands start to tremble again, worse than they had before. "So… Mrs Weasley might remember me, but…but Lavender won't? We weren't all that…close, and, but she's my classmate." He really didn't like that this would, in some fucked up way, let Harry know once and for all just who his 'real' friends had been. Harry wasn't all that sure he was prepared to know. On the one hand, yeah, sure, he'd been missing his friends an awful lot lately. But on the other hand…if someone like Ron or Hermione still didn't remember…

Harry wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with something like that. He most definitely didn't want to.

Snape reached out and took hold of one of Harry's hands. "I can only speculate. In any case, it is not a theory I can put to test in here."

Harry cast a nervous glance at the door, then looked back at Snape. The dark eyes met his stare directly. "Don't leave me," Harry implored in a hushed whisper.

"Try not to be more stupid than you have to be," Snape returned, voice dry. Harry grinned. "Shall we?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, ok."

Snape squeezed Harry's hand, then let go. "You need to bear in mind that even if this succeeds, you cannot expect them to remember everything. Things will have changed, Harry. You have changed. It will not be like it was before."

Harry nodded again. "I know," he whispered. "With Charlie…it was like it was only random bits that came back. He felt like he knew me, but he didn't really get why." He narrowed his eyes. "Hey, what did you tell him, anyway? He was really, you know, off about it."

Snape smirked, his dark eyes taking on a dangerous glint for a moment. "I merely asked what his mother would think of his conduct, nothing more," Snape drawled, voice ever so silky.

Right, Harry decided with a snort, there was way more to it than that.

"Shall we?" Snape asked then and, heart in his throat, Harry nodded.

—x—

The sitting room wasn't large. It had never been, Harry knew, but it felt particularly small when filled with so many adults. There was Mr and Mrs Weasley, standing by one of the many bookshelves, talking softly with Tonks and Shacklebolt. Lupin was sitting on the sofa, looking drawn and tired, together with McGonagall and Bill. Fleur was there, listening to something Charlie was talking about, the two of them sharing an armchair with the ease of close friends. Even Pomfrey was there, though Harry wasn't sure if she was a member of the Order or not. Notably absent was the Headmaster.

Harry felt Snape's hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I tried to recall who you were most close to. Also, I figured the lowest number of redheads, and by default Gryffindors, in my flat, the better." There was a hint of teasing in the man's tone that made Harry smile.

"Severus."

Harry started a bit. Snape looked up, but didn't remove his hand. "Kingsley."

The Auror was standing in front of them, a serious expression on his face as he carefully took Harry in. After a while, he said, "You are right, I feel something. You know who I am?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Auror. You picked me up from my relatives with some other members of the Order before my fifth year. I'm—"

"Harry Potter. So Severus told me. Your eyes are familiar." Shacklebolt gave him one last look, before turning to Snape. "Should I be worried that some of your books appear curiously Warded?"

Snape didn't even twitch. "Impressionable young eyes and curious fingers," he said, not batting an eye at the obvious lie.

To Harry's knowledge, the only books he wasn't allowed to touch were the ones that glowed red when he was about to touch them. Those books, he'd quickly figured out from reading the text on their spines, were about curses, potions and Dark Arts. Quite obviously, if Shacklebolt was anything to go by, they weren't strictly speaking legal. There had never been any Warded books on Snape's shelves before, though.

Harry wondered if the books Snape had in his bedroom were a bit more than merely borderline illegal.

"Hmmm," Shacklebolt said.

Snape changed the subject. "Shall we get this meeting started?"

It took a surprisingly short time to expand the sitting area. There were sofas and armchairs for everyone, and a tea tray or two popped up on the tables, carrying an array of biscuits, scones and other forms of snacks.

Harry found himself sitting between Snape and Lupin.

Lupin had been giving him odd looks. Harry even thought he'd felt the man sniff him, rather discretely, once, but he wasn't sure. What he was sure about, however, was that Snape clearly didn't like that Lupin was sitting so close to Harry. While Snape acted his part as host, Harry found himself leaning back comfortably on the newly transfigured sofa.

"Have we met before? You seem so familiar." Harry tensed at the question, then turned to face Lupin. Lupin was regarding him with friendly eyes and a kind, gentle smile on his face.

"You used to be my teacher."

"Really?"

Harry hesitated, wondering for a short moment what he was supposed to do. Was there even a right or wrong way to 'reintroduce himself'? It was probably the nicest way he could describe what he had to do, but, fancy words or not, that still didn't mean it was in any way easy.

"In third year. My name's Harry Potter," he said.

Lupin blinked. "James' son?"

Harry nodded. "Do you…remember me?" he clutched the sleeves of his too long jumper. It was Snape's, it even had a print of a bubbling cauldron on the back, with a faded text above it.

Now, Harry knew Lupin was a werewolf. It wasn't something that bothered him, or made him afraid. It was just a fact. That still didn't mean he was in any way prepared for Lupin's eyes to flash yellow like that, all of a sudden. Harry started enough that Lupin looked guilty and quickly averted his eyes.

"What was that?" Harry yelped.

"That was my…other part," Lupin said softly.

"Because you're a werewolf?" Harry wondered.

Lupin nodded. He did look faintly surprised, then seemed to remember that Snape had told the entire school about his condition. "It would seem the wolf recognised you, too. Well, your scent, most probably. It's most peculiar. I clearly recognise you, I know you're James' son, but—"

"You've no idea who I am. Can't remember," Harry filled, voice subdued.

"Exactly." Lupin's tone matched Harry's exactly. The man smiled, then. It was both a gentle and sad smile. "The wolf in me thinks I'm an idiot for not knowing who you are."

"Perhaps because you clearly are, Lupin," Snape interrupted. Harry shot the man a glare that went unnoticed, because Snape was sending a glare of his own at Lupin.

"So what is this about, Severus?" That was Mr Weasley.

Much to his own chagrin, Harry found he had to force himself to look at the Weasley parents. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of them, or didn't like them. No, nothing like that. It was more that he didn't want to see blank faces staring back at him without an ounce of recognition in them.

This was a terrible idea.

But Snape was next to him. Snape said he was going to stay with him, not matter what. For probably the first time in his life, Harry consciously took strength in the knowledge that an adult was there for him, to protect his interests and look out for him as well as after him.

"This meeting is about Harry Potter. What do you know about him?"

At first, there was a terrible, awful, bloody horrible moment of silence.

"He's James and Lily's boy," Lupin said then, in that soft, hoarse voice of his.

"Yes," Snape agreed, with a touch of sarcasm. "And six years ago he began his first year here at Hogwarts, and was promptly sorted into Gryffindor."

Mrs Weasley was frowning rather heavily. "No, surely my Ron would've mentioned sharing a dorm with the Potters' boy?"

Up until that moment, Harry hadn't known that Snape hadn't talked about how everyone had forgotten him. But the look of shock on McGonagall's face told him. It was mirrored on Pomfrey's.

"But Potter, Weasley and Granger were thick as thieves!" McGonagall exclaimed, her Scottish brogue way thicker than it had ever been in class. "They had a fallout over the summer, but surely, Molly! The boy must have spent time at your house on numerous occasions!"

Harry suddenly sprung up from the sofa and sprinted off to his room. He thought he heard Snape call out for him, but he ignored it in favour of sorting through his ever sparse closet. Harry was back in the sitting room in no time, sitting on the sofa next to Snape, a bit closer than he had been sitting before. In his hands he clutched a green knitted jumper.

"You used to make one of these for me each Christmas, Mrs Weasley," Harry said. Slowly, he held up the jumper. That one had a golden snitch on the front.

Mrs Weasley stared. Mr Weasley was frowning.

"You'd send me some of your homemade fudge, too. I used to beg Dumbledore each summer that I could stay with you, and usually he let me after I'd stayed a month with the Dursleys first. You always complained about that, 'cause you didn't think they fed me properly, and I was always too skinny.

"Then, before fourth year, Mr Weasley let me and Hermione come with you for the Quidditch World Cup. It was the first time I met Bill and Charlie." By then, Harry was clutching the jumper, now in a crumpled heap in his lap, so tight his knuckles had turned white.

Again, the oppressive silence wore heavily on Harry's frayed nerves.

This time, it was rather unexpectedly Fleur who broke the silence. "You were ze little boy in ze TriWizard completion, no? Saved my Gabrielle?"

Harry felt too numb to do anything but nod.

At least, he was feeling too numb until Snape reached out and stilled Harry's fidgeting hands by simply placing a hand over them. Harry didn't mind very much right then, even if holding Snape's hand made him feel weird and warm and wanted all at once; right then, there was no force on earth that could make him let go of Snape's hand.

"Yeah," he whispered, "that's right."

"Oh, that awful competition!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "I'll never understand—! What was Albus thinking? The dragons!"

"Mum, don't you remember? It was Harry who went up against the Hungarian Horntail," Charlie asked.

Harry didn't remember telling Charlie that. Maybe Fleur had jogged his memory. He hoped so.

"I don't know about Bill, but I think you mentioned Harry at least once a month when you wrote letters to me," Charlie continued.

At that, Bill suddenly sat up straighter. "Yeah. I knew that." Bill narrowed his eyes. "Professor, are you saying that someone made us all forget about a kid?"

Snape merely inclined his head.

"But that's, that's barbaric!" Mrs Weasley sputtered.

"Why would anyone do that?" Lupin wondered.

At first Snape didn't say anything, then he tugged his hand free. Well, Harry let it go after several tugs and a pointed glare. Now unhindered, Snape reached over and brushed Harry's wayward fringe off his forehead. "Do any of you recall ever seeing, or hearing of this scar before?"

"I feel like I should," Lupin answered. He was studying the scar with scrutinising eyes. "It's…from a curse, isn't it?"

Bill left his armchair and went around the table. He crouched in front of Harry. "May I?" he asked.

Harry blinked, then looked at Snape. "Yes," Snape said. So Harry nodded.

"Okay, good. I'm just gonna take a look at it, all right? Poke around a bit with my wand, nothing that should hurt."

"Okay. Sure." Snape had said it was okay, so Harry simply had to believe that he knew what he was talking about.

Bill's fingers were warm and dry, just a bit rough. When he touched Harry's scar, it sent a tingle down his spine. Harry couldn't help but shiver. With his thumb and forefinger at each point of the lightning bolt, Bill brought up his wand.

"Some think this feels a bit weird, others don't feel a thing, okay, kid? Basically, it's a diagnostic of the scar itself. Being dead tissue, scars normally have reduced sensitivity. Do you know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure if the scar on his forehead always worked liked that, but he'd noticed that the scar on his arm, from when the basilisk bit him, felt a bit…dead whenever he touched it.

"Good. That's why what I'm about to do doesn't really hurt or anything, but can feel a bit strange, like I said," Bill concluded. He tapped Harry's scar twice, then incanted a long string of Latin.

Harry froze. It didn't hurt. It paralysed him. For a moment, Harry was afraid he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Couldn't blink. He couldn't fell anything. It felt like he was choking. He was moments away from panicking.

As abruptly as it had started, Harry's senses and feelings all came rushing back to him. Suddenly, he could breathe again, and Harry sobbed down great mouthfuls of wonderful air into his lungs. Snape had an arm around him and was rubbing his back.

"That's…"

"Yes?" Snape raised an eyebrow. Of course, he knew what Bill's spell had told him. Harry did too, or at least he thought he did.

"About fifteen years ago, someone cast the Avada Kedavra on him, and bounced right off because of the protection runes and a complex charm I can't identify, that someone placed on him moments before the curse hit."

At that, Snape sat up straighter. "There is something under the scar?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what, but I'm guessing whoever did it knew someone was coming after them."

Harry's mum had known he was going to die. She had known Voldemort was going to kill him. "Mum saved me," he whispered.

"Lily always was very good with Charms," Harry heard McGonagall say softly. "Her stubbornness knew no bounds."

"Are you saying Mum came up with a spell that defeated Avada Kedavra? I thought that was impossible."

McGonagall smiled at him. "I would not be the least bit surprised if she figured out a way to counteract it. She loved you very much."

"There are old texts that talk about it," Bill added. "Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Babylonian. Fragments are all that's left of them. The magic was different in their time, of course, but some of the inscriptions mention how mothers sometimes defeated the 'ultimate enemy'. Of course, we don't really know what that is, but some think it was Death. Most of it's just speculation. But to someone who's desperate to find a way to protect a kid…" Bill trailed off.

"The impossible becomes possible," Snape murmured.

Clearing his throat, Harry sat up a bit straighter. "I, um. This is a bit off topic, but…do all of you remember my parents?" It was a bit of a topic changer, yes, but considering how many times someone or other had mentioned his parents, Harry's curiosity was definitely peaked. "But you've no idea who I am?"

"It certainly appears that way," Shacklebolt said. "For those of us who knew your parents. So, Severus, why have you called us?"

Same question as before, but different. And Harry answered before Snape had even had the chance to open his mouth. "Because everyone's forgotten who I am."

Sitting up a bit straighter, not that Snape ever slouched – at least not in public; just when he thought Harry wasn't looking – the man cleared his throat, once. "This is what I have observed." Then he lectured for a very long time.

At least, it sounded like a lecture to Harry. The way Snape presented the facts, the terminology, the old magic and what theories Snape had collected made it all sound like a very well researched lecture at a University. Didn't exactly help matters none, either, that all of the members of Order were listening very carefully, serious expressions on their faces. Some, like Bill, Lupin and Shacklebolt, were even taking notes.

Harry had heard it all before, and found that while, yeah, he was listening, he just wasn't listening as attentively as he had the first time. His ears were both feeling warmer than he was used to, but they weren't smarting any more. He silently wondered the wisdom of letting himself be talked into doing so many new piercings at the same time. Not that he would let anyone talk him into taking them out, oh no, not now that he finally had them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill sit up a bit straighter at the mention of Obscuration Wards and Perception Filters. As a Curse Breaker working with Ancient Egyptian artefacts, Harry figured Bill knew more about magic like that than anyone else here, except maybe Snape. Snape seemed to be the kind of man who was not only extremely intelligent, but also sucked up knowledge like a sponge, and on top of it all knew how to put it all to use.

Snape was coming to a close on his lecture, so Harry drew himself out of his thoughts and tried to look like he'd been paying attention the entire time. It didn't work, because just seconds later there was a familiar pinch on his thigh.

"Ow!" he hissed. "I was listening earlier!"

"Nevertheless, it would not hurt you to pay attention, Harry." Snape gave him a sort of mild glare, then added something that he hadn't said when speaking to Harry earlier. "Do any of you recall the Daily Prophet writing articles early this summer about Tom Riddle and Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I do," Charlie said.

"Me, too," Bill agreed. "I was in Egypt at the time. I wonder, d'you think my being so far away would've diminished the effects?"

If he was completely honest. Harry himself had sort of forgotten about those articles as well. He hadn't read them though, and figured it was because of that he didn't remember. It had been Malfoy who'd told him about them. From what he could recall, the articles had been comparisons between himself and Riddle, their parentage, Parseltongue abilities, as well as somewhat disturbingly similar childhoods.

"It is possible," Snape agreed. "The ritual the Dark Lord performed is still unknown to me."

Harry noticed Snape hadn't told them what he had told Harry: That Snape didn't know, because Voldemort hadn't even told him that there had been a ritual. It should have occurred to him before, but it hadn't until just then, and the thought popped out of his mouth before he could stop it, "Does he know you're really on our side?"

Snape's only outward reaction was a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps," was all he said.

"Ah!" that was Lupin, his loud and unexpected exclamation drawing everyone's attention, which appeared to fluster the man. "Oh, sorry! I just remembered, Harry, I taught you the Patronus, didn't I?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, you did. And gave me about a ton of chocolate, too."

"Are you sure, Severus?" Shacklebolt steered them back to the subject.

Snape lifted a shoulder. "I cannot be. There are many reasons why I would not have been informed of this ritual. Which one applies in this situation, I do not know. It has been quite some time since I was last requested to brew a potion. He mostly asks for updates on the on-goings of the castle. Grapevine gossip.

"On a related note, you might try approaching Lucius Malfoy for more relevant information. According to Harry, his son is now playing both sides. Perhaps it might be worth looking into?"

Harry stiffened a bit. "But, I just said Malfoy wasn't being a git! He's been a lot of help, yeah, but you were the one who said Malfoys were real slippery, Snape! You know, doing whatever they got the most out of."

"If Lucius Malfoy was truly against it, his son would not have dared to step out of line," Shacklebolt filled in. "Families like the Malfoys are very loyal to themselves. Draco Malfoy would have been unable to keep something like this from his father."

Then Mrs Weasley spoke up. "Should we really be discussing such matters with the boy here?"

"Nothing he does not already know, Molly," Snape said smoothly.

"He's just a boy!"

"Again, he already knows," Snape drawled.

"It's okay, Mrs Weasley," Harry added, even though he knew that it wouldn't matter what he said, because in Mrs Weasley's eyes, he'd always be a kid, whether she knew him or not.

Mrs Weasley narrowed her eyes at him. Then all air seemed to leave her as she paled. "Oh!" she gasped, eyes wide. "You saved my Ginny!"

"I…yeah."

"Oh, oh! Harry! I… But you were such a little boy!"

"I grew up," Harry made himself say, even though his throat felt really dry.

Mrs Weasley waved the explanation away. "Don't be stupid. Come here, dear, I need to have a closer look at you."

The meeting changed a bit after that. Some of the members of the Order withdrew to talk inside Snape's kitchen, which was possibly the smallest room in the entire flat. Charlie and Bill drifted over to one of Snape's many bookshelves, while Harry, Lupin and Mrs Weasley relocated to the original sofa in the flat. Harry, somehow, ended up sitting between the adults.

He strongly suspected it was a cleverly executed scheme.

"Let me look at you, then," Mrs Weasley whispered. Harry felt his face heat up when she placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his face to look at her. "You do have such lovely eyes, my dear."

"Thanks."

Mrs Weasley's warm eyes twinkled. "A killer with the ladies, hmmm?"

Much to Harry's eternal frustration, he felt his ears heat up. "Um, I don't really care about that," he said.

"Oh?" Mrs Weasley raised her eyebrows. Then she smiled and seemed to shrug it off. "Now, where do I know you from?"

"I'm Ron's best mate. Or, well. I used to be…'till everyone forgot. I spent a couple of weeks at the Burrow every year, almost, except for the two last summers. I loved it there."

"Skin and bones, boy. You were always skin and bones from how those dreadful Muggles treated you," she muttered.

Harry's eyes widened a little. "Do you remember me?"

A frustrated expression appeared on Mrs Weasley's face, then. "I want to. Oh, dear Harry, I dearly want to. But something, like a mist, is in the way and the more I try to push it aside, the denser it gets."

"Just keep pushing, Mum," Charlie called from where he was talking with Bill. "The harder I tried, the easier it got."

Harry's heart leaped into his throat. Twisting free from Mrs Weasley's grip, he turned and stared straight at Charlie. "You remember now? Me? Last summer? What we did—" Maybe he was sounding a bit too hopeful, but Harry really couldn't help it. For the longest time, the absolute silence from Charlie had hurt him the worst.

It was a hurt that was different from any other kind of hurt he'd been through before. One he hadn't experienced before, or expected to.

"Hey!" Charlie exclaimed. "Yeah, I mean, I'm sort of starting to remember bits and pieces, more and more, but mostly it's just what you told me about when I visited yesterday. And the films we saw, now, why that came back I don't know, 'cause I wasn't trying to remember that."

"Maybe because you loved the films? You wouldn't shut up about them." Harry's look turned a little sly. "Unless, you know, we did that thing."

"Harry. Shut up. Please."

Harry suddenly grinned and sat a little straighter. "So Snape was telling the truth, then?" he mused.

Could it be, really? Charlie was most scared of his mum finding out he'd sort of had it off with Harry? More, even, than having the wrath of the Potions Master invoked on him?

Charlie's glare was a little sullen, a little childish, and a little amused. "Depends on what he said, right?"

"Something about Mum finding out something, perhaps?" Bill filled in, his tone just a little too hard and serious. "Like, say, dating a kid under seventeen?"

"Charlie Weasley!" Mrs Weasley exploded at once, shooting up and away from the sofa.

Charlie's hands went to his hips. "There is nothing illegal about dating anyone who's over sixteen!"

"You are twenty-four years old, young man!" Mrs Weasley snapped. "You're an adult. You are supposed to know better."

"Oh, he did," Harry muttered, face hidden in his hands. His comment went ignored by everyone, except Lupin, who glanced sharply at him.

Mrs Weasley went on, clearly not ready to be interrupted yet. "Shall I take your response as this is something you do a lot? Lure young, innocent boys, like our Harry here, into debauchery and disgrace?"

Harry's heart lurched at the 'our Harry' bit that seemed to appear on Mrs Weasley's tongue as natural as it had always done. Of course, his heart promptly dropped again at the end of her sentence.

"No!" Charlie snapped, his face red. "I've told you about every bloody boyfriend I ever had, Mum! I never kept it from you, 'cause I knew it was something you had to get used to! I knew it made you uncomfortable, and don't even try and denying it! I told you, every time, so that, maybe, when it mattered, you'd be happy for me!"

Every word felt like a slap in Harry's face.

"Harry and I were together for a month and a half. Three months, and I'd have told you about him, too," Charlie finished. "I never kept anything from you."

"Why, I never—!" Mrs Weasley sputtered. "I always kept an open mind for my children, Charlie Weasley! A mother hardly expects her son to drag home boys to show off instead of girls. But I tried. I did the best I could to treat you and Bill the same." Mrs Weasley's eyes hardened. "My own mother would have kicked you out."

Even from where Harry was still sitting on the sofa, he could see how Charlie reeled back at that last stinging remark.

"I love my children too much. So, I decided I was willing to treat you as I always had." Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips, and for a moment, Charlie and her looked rather a lot alike. Mrs Weasley's eyes softened. "I do try, dear, it just isn't easy."

"I know, Mum," Charlie voice matched hers. "But you know me. You know I'd never do anything I shouldn't. I'm an adult. And, yeah, maybe dating Harry last summer wasn't exactly the smartest thing I've ever done, but… I was happy, while it lasted. We both were."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, mostly to himself, "while it lasted."

Mrs Weasley turned puzzled eyes to Harry. "What do you mean, dear?"

It was Bill who answered. "Charlie forgot, too, Mum. Forgot he had something to tell you, forgot he even knew Harry."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed.

Mrs Weasley looked torn between looking sorry for Harry, and stern at Charlie. "He is still only sixteen." Her countenance darkened. "Charlie Weasley, tell me you did not—!"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, shooting to his feet. "No, we didn't! Not! Ever. Promise."

Harry sat down again when Lupin pulled him down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Lupin gave him a quick smile, then began rubbing Harry's back.