Harry had no clue as to what was going on.

What right did Malfoy have to ask about that at the graveyard? He must have seen poor Cedric's body lying on the ground, yet Malfoy ignored him like a piece of discarded rubbish.

Harry was about to tell Lucius Malfoy what he and his Dark Lord could do with each other, when the Headmaster broke his chain of thought.

Harry's nerves were so on edge he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand touch his upper arm. It was the Headmaster. When the Headmaster began to guide him away from Mr Malfoy, Harry was felt slightly annoyed at being treated like a petulant child, but then he realised the Headmaster had led him to his father's bedside.

"What is it, Headmaster?"

Harry looked down at this comatose father. It was so unsettling to see him so helpless. In all of his years at Hogwarts, Harry couldn't recall a time when Professor Snape had been ill—not once. If anything, Harry thought Snape had been a bit too healthy for Harry's own good. But now, he would give anything to see the old Snape scowl over Harry's latest botched potion.

It seemed like an eternity that Harry stood over is father's vulnerable form. He could feel the eyes of others scrutinising his every move and he was beginning to resent it. Harry's feelings for his father were nobody else's business but his own. He wished that they would all just go away. Harry didn't mind keeping vigil over his father, but he was beginning to wonder what the Headmaster wanted.

Harry did not have to wait long.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear him. "I want you to remove Voldemort's Mark."

Harry blinked and shook his head—certain he heard something wrong. He looked up at the Headmaster, feeling as confused as ever.

"Pardon me, Sir. I don't think I heard you correctly," Harry said.

Professor Dumbledore gave Harry a pointed look from behind his half-moon glasses and said, "I think you heard me correctly the first time, Harry; but for the sake of clarification I shall repeat myself. I said I want you to remove Lord Voldemort's Mark from your father's arm."

There was no mistaking the Headmaster's words the second time around, for both Remus and Mr Malfoy exclaimed in unison, "What!"

Harry's head was spinning. He wondered if the Headmaster suffered from dementia. Did Dumbledore understand the magnitude and sheer impossibility of what he had just asked of Harry? Who did the Headmaster think Harry was—Albus Dumbledore?

It was then that Mr Malfoy scoffed and Harry couldn't help but reluctantly agree. "Dumbledore…" Mr Malfoy said, and then paused as he seemed to choose his words carefully, "Do you really expect a… a mere child to counter a curse cast by an adult wizard, especially when it was cast by the most powerful dark wizard ever?"

Harry didn't know whether to agree with Mr Malfoy or feel insulted.

I'm not a child, Harry thought obstinately. He hadn't been a child for…well…Harry couldn't actually remember what it felt like to be a child, since thanks to the Dursleys had been forced to assume adult responsibilities at a young age.

But despite the fact that Harry believed that he was no child, the stark reality was that he had no clue how to execute the Headmaster's request.

Before he realised what he was saying Harry found himself nodding in agreement with Mr Malfoy. "Yeah… what he said," Harry exclaimed as he pointed at Draco's father.

Harry had to take pause for a second. He felt his own face contort with confusion and he abruptly dropped his outstretched arm. If he wouldn't look absolutely ridiculous doing so, Harry would smack himself over his own head for agreeing with Lucius Malfoy.

"Headmaster, what makes you believe that Harry can perform such magic?" Remus asked. From the sceptical tone of his voice, Harry could tell that even Remus was beginning to doubt Professor Dumbledore's sanity.

The Headmaster seemed oblivious to the scrutinising gazes he was receiving from every person in the room and he ignored everyone's questions. Instead, Professor Dumbledore kept his attention fixed upon Harry.

Dumbledore insisted gently, "Harry, if you would please—indulge an old man."

Now Harry was more baffled than ever before. What exactly was he supposed to do? What if he did something and he hurt his dad? Harry didn't think it was fair to have such a responsibility put on his shoulders and he didn't like the situation one bit. What if he mucked it up? He would only cause the situation to go from bad to worse.

"Harry, I want you to point your wand at your father's Mark and cast whatever counterspell comes to mind," Dumbledore explained. "His mind is perfectly safe deep beneath his shields. I promise you, he will not feel a thing."

"He might not feel anything, but what if I end up turning him into a Blast-Ended Skrewt?" Harry only made the offhand comment to relieve his tension. But what if he really did turn his dad into a Blast-Ended Skrewt? What was the Headmaster thinking?

Harry's little remark did relieve the tension in the room enough that Remus let out an amused snort. Mr Malfoy, however, looked far from amused. But the Headmaster had a totally different countenance that showed that he was neither sceptical nor amused.

Instead, the Headmaster seemed confident—confident in Harry's ability to do the impossible.

Without knowing why, Harry found a quiet strength in Dumbledore's confidence in him and resolved to at least try. He supposed that if something went wrong, Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were there to help. At this point Harry was willing to do anything to get his father back.

Harry took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. Concentrating as hard as he could, he touched his wand to his father's Mark and clearly enunciated the only countercharm he knew.

"Finite Incantatem."

Harry could feel the raw magic surge through his body like nothing he ever felt before. He stood transfixed yet held fast as an ethereal blue light emanated from the end of his holly wand and invaded his father's Mark. The blue light weaved its way through the black ink causing the Dark Mark to shimmer. There was a collective gasp throughout the room as the Mark began to slowly lift from Severus' skin.

Once the Mark was detached from its host, something even more remarkable happened. The sinister snake that protruded from the gaping mouth of the skull began to struggle, as if deprived of life-giving air. The serpent reared its head, flinging itself to and fro, looking for something to strike, but found no victim. There was no sound, but it looked as if the black snake screamed in agony.

Then without warning—it happened so quickly that if Harry had blinked at that moment, he would have missed it—the Dark Mark that had defined so much of Severus' life vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Gone forever.

Harry's father still lay in his bed unconscious, but his arm, which had once been defiled by Voldemort's Dark Mark, was now as unblemished as the day he was born.

Harry's heart beat so quickly, he wondered if it was beating at all.

Harry dropped his arm by his side. He stood silent in awe and disbelief. He had done it. He didn't know how—but he had done it. He hadn't even broken a sweat!

The silence in the room was deafening. Harry could swear he could hear the rhythmic thump of Remus' and Mr Malfoy's heartbeats resonate from across the room.

But something was wrong. His father still hadn't moved.

Harry turned to the Headmaster and asked anxiously, "Will Dad be alright now, Sir? Why isn't he awake yet?"

"Yes, your father will be fine," Dumbledore said. The Headmaster's smile did not quite reach his eyes, which unnerved Harry a bit. The Headmaster then said, "I will need to enter his mind to help him regain consciousness, but after that, he will be right as rain—You did well, Harry."

Harry wanted to bask in the headmaster's pride, but he was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. He sank ungracefully into the chair next to his father's bed, and felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders when he realised his father would no longer be a slave to Voldemort's Mark.

"Lucius, you must pardon me," the Headmaster said apologetically as he turned his attention back to the adults. "I am afraid that I will need to cancel today's lesson. Bringing back Severus could take several hours. You may, however, consider taking an additional couple of hours to practice on your own this evening."

Of…of course, Headmaster," Mr Malfoy said, dumbfounded. "I don't believe…how… He's only… It's impossible. How could he?"

Dumbledore patted the still-stunned Mr Malfoy on the shoulder and said patronisingly, "I'm afraid that is an explanation for another time, Lucius. Which reminds me. Before you leave, there is the little matter of…assurances."

Malfoy followed the Headmaster's pointed gaze to Harry.

Mr Malfoy swallowed hard and seemed to say reservedly, "Ah, yes—The Unbreakable Vow."

Harry was unaware that it was Malfoy's second Unbreakable Vow that week. The first was cast by Professor McGonagall when he agreed to take on his father's role as spy. Malfoy had argued that the Vow was unnecessary. He had had as much invested in the Dark Lord's demise as any other member of the Order and perhaps more than most.

If word found its way to the Dark Lord that Lucius had any hand in or knowledge of Severus' treachery for this long and had done nothing to stop it, the Malfoy line would be erased from existence forever. But as a Slytherin, he certainly understood Dumbledore's insistence on "precautions." He would be reluctant to trust this information with a newly turned Death Eater as well.

For all intents and purposes, Lucius Malfoy was now as bound to the Order as he was to Voldemort. The difference was, if he wanted out of the Order, he could leave without worry of retribution to himself or his family. He just couldn't divulge any information.

Dumbledore then turned to Remus and asked, "Remus…would you do the honours?"

Remus was startled out of any musings he seemed to be having. "Of course. Of course, Albus. That is, if Mr Malfoy agrees."

From the way Mr Malfoy's eyes narrowed, Harry guessed that the pureblood aristocrat was not very happy with having a lowly werewolf perform such a personal spell on him.

At least Harry assumed it was personal. He had never heard of the Unbreakable Vow before, but it sounded pretty self-explanatory to him.

Harry was nearly startled out of his trainers when the Headmaster suddenly addressed him. "Harry, if you will excuse us?"

"Oh…yeah," Harry said numbly as Professor Dumbledore ushered the two other wizards out the hospital doors and into a nearby abandoned classroom.

Harry watched as the older wizards left the hospital ward. He turned to his father and said, "You'll be home soon, Dad."

No sooner had Harry settled himself in the chair at his father's bedside than Madam Pomfrey returned from her office. Her arms were laden with phials of potions and ointments for Harry's father. Along with the Nutritive potion she would spell into Severus' system, she also carried Burn-Healing-Paste and Murtlap Essence in a vain attempt to lessen the physical effects of Severus' Mark.

"Where are the Headmaster and Professor Lupin, Mr Potter?" the matron asked as she crossed the room.

"They stepped out across the hall," Harry said pointing in the general direction of the corridor. "Madam Pomfrey, I need to tell you that there's no need to…"

The matron shushed Harry in the middle of his sentence as she began to organise her supplies on a portable work table. "Quiet, Mr Potter, and let me attend to…"

Harry jumped to his feet as the jar of burn unguent Madam Pomfrey was about to apply to Severus' arm fell out of her hands and crashed to the floor.

"WHAT HAPPENED!" she shrieked, clutching chest as if she were trying to keep her heart from jumping out.

"That's what I was about to tell you," Harry said as he spelled away the glass for the matron. "Dumbledore found a way to get rid of the Mark."

It was a half-truth, but Harry wasn't sure that it was a good idea to let too many people in on the fact that it was he who cast out the Mark.

"That is Professor Dumbledore to you, young man," said a faint, yet stern baritone voice.

"Oh my Go…DAD!" Harry flung himself across Severus' chest.

Harry didn't think he would be so emotional when his dad woke up, but he couldn't stop the tears of relief that streamed down his face. He felt like such a baby, but he didn't care. His father was back and that was all that mattered.

Harry felt his dad's hand run through his already messy hair, and he knew everything was going to be all right.

Harry never moved from Severus' chest even when he heard Madam Pomfrey cry out, "ALBUS!"

He finally did look up and his father turned his head at the heavy sound of footsteps running towards the Hospital Wing.

"What is it, Poppy?" the Headmaster asked as soon as he entered the doors.

"He's awake, Albus." Madam Pomfrey said. Harry wasn't too focused on the conversation and the Medi-Witch's words sounded like a far-off echo.

Harry sat up, thinking that his father would not want to be seen in such an undignified having a teen aged boy wrapped around his chest. But to his astonishment, when he tried to pull away, his father held fast.

Remus and Mr Malfoy watched silently from a distance, but the Headmaster stood smiling at the end of the bed. "Severus, my lad, I must say you never fail to astonish this old man." He then turned towards Harry and added, "Which seems to be a trait inherited by your son.

"I will not take them, Madam!"

Severus Snape was the epitome of the impatient patient." His arms were crossed and his head was turned away from the Medi-Witch like a very stubborn five-year-old who would not take his medicine. On the contrary—he was a very stubborn thirty-five-year-old who would not take his medicine. Severus was adamant that he would not take a potion that was not brewed by his own hand.

Harry stood back a couple of beds down, wisely keeping his distance from Severus and his ire. The Potions Master scowled at the smirk that crept across his son's face. The boy obviously found amusement in the contest of wills between his father and the equally stubborn witch.

"I haven't taken a potion not brewed by my own hands in over fifteen years."

"I beg to differ," Pomfrey snapped. "You've been taking my potions all week and yet you live."

Severus sardonically retorted, "I will be sure to beware of any delayed reactions."

Severus' patience was growing thin. He had no time for this." Severus needed to get out of bed. The school term was quickly approaching and he was behind in his preparations. Merlin only knew how many staff and Order meetings he had missed in the past week. Not to mention the next full moon was in less than two weeks. If he was going to brew Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion, he'd better get cracking. Otherwise Hogwarts would be short both a Potions Master and a DADA Professor come the beginning of term, in addition to having a very surly Werewolf traipsing about the castle at night.

Wars were so damn inconvenient.

Severus gingerly turned his body to sit over the side of the bed. Thankfully, his muscles were beginning to remember how they worked.

Poppy snapped at Severus,"What do you think you're doing now?"

"What does it look like, you old witch! I'm getting my arse out of bed."

"At least take a Strengthening Potion before you fall on your face and deform your nose even more than it already is," Poppy said snarkily.

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously at the old matron. If he only had his wand…. Perhaps he could cast a wandless Furnunculus Hex. Now was as good a time as any to practice his wandless magic skills. No sooner had Severus began to raise his hand towards the irksome matron than his meddling son stepped in.

"Dad, perhaps we can ask a house-elf to grab one from your private stores," Harry suggested. The boy's raised eyebrow that was so reminiscent of Severus' and his familiar address were enough to catch both Poppy and Severus off guard for a split second.

Severus moaned internally at missing his opportunity to hex the exasperating Medi-Witch, but he grudgingly acquiesced to his son's suggestion.

"Oh, alright," Severus said, cringing internally because he sounded like a petulant child.

From his peripheral vision he could see Poppy give a little sigh of relief. Oh…she may have escaped Severus' hex, but he wasn't going to let her get away that easily. "After all, considering how well you repaired my nose last time it was broken, Madam—I should be surprised this time if I did not end up with my nostrils facing sideways."

Poppy Pomfrey looked like she was going to oblige Severus, when Harry suddenly called out, "DOBBY!"

Severus sat in his office going over his curriculum for his NEWT students. He had eight new students who had managed to make an 'O' on their OWLs and decided to continue with Potions. He had three returning seventh year students. Severus particularly enjoyed his NEWT classes. These were students who were dedicated to the art and took it seriously. He was not inundated with inane questions and he did not have to worry about dunderheads melting cauldrons or sabotaging potentially dangerous potions.

Severus desperately wanted to see his son advance into his NEWT class the following year. But no matter how much Harry favoured him in appearance, that did not change the fact that Harry's potion skills had always been mediocre at best.

Perhaps if he stepped back, and didn't hover over the boy quite so much?

He thought back on the potions ingredients and the projects that Harry would be submitting this year. Harry had collected daises, hellebore, peppermint, flux weed, and knotgrass. The potions Harry had submitted for his projects were the Draught of Peace, a Euphoria Elixir, and Polyjuice Potion.

Severus had explained to Harry that although the Draught of Peace was a reasonable fifth year Potion, Euphoria Elixir and Polyjuice Potion would not be covered until NEWT level. He truly doubted Harry could pull off the more advanced potions.

But Harry was adamant, confident that he could pull off these potions if Severus gave him the chance. As Severus remembered the previous day, watching Harry in the lab diligently extracting Hellebore Syrup, he could feel his fatherly pride well up within him. Perhaps if given the proper encouragement, Harry could prepare the potions properly. Perhaps one day, Severus' son just might follow in his footsteps.

Should Severus ever actually live to see the day he retired from teaching, he thought he might like to open his own Apothecary. The idea of maybe opening a shop with his son felt somewhat satisfying.

Miraculously, Severus had lived to see his retirement from one career he did not expect to. He lived to see his retirement from espionage.

Severus gave a quick breath as he looked down at his left forearm. It had been nearly twenty years since he had seen the appendage unblemished. Though after the Dark Lord's first downfall the Mark had faded to the point of near invisibility, Severus could see his Mark of Shame glaring back at him as vivid as the day he was branded. Although Severus' intentions were pure, there was no denying that he had felt unclean ever since. This new feeling of freedom and purity was indescribable. This had been the first day in all those long years that Severus had actually dared to take off his restricting jacket and roll up his sleeves outside of his quarters. The absence of the Mark had indeed been liberating.

He was still at a loss as to how Harry managed to pull it off.

Albus would not tell him how Harry had done it. As always, his answers were ambiguous at best. Severus had half a mind to lace the old man's sherbet lemons with Veritaserum. The bloody wizard seemed incapable of giving a straight answer if one asked him if it was raining outside.

…And speaking of the bloody wizard, he had the audacity to enter Severus' office right at that very moment.

Damn, Severus thought to himself. His stores were too far away to reach his Veritaserum in time.

"Severus, my boy," Albus said merrily. "You are looking in fine form today." The Headmaster presumptuously seated himself in front of Severus' desk without waiting for an invitation.

"Please…do have a seat, Albus," said Severus satirically. "Pardon my inhospitality, but I have no sherbet lemons to offer," he added dryly.

Albus took a small tin out of his pocket and shook it gleefully. "Never leave home without them." He plucked one from the tin and with his thin, wrinkled fingers popped it in his mouth like a cheeky ten-year-old.

"Spit it out, Albus," Severus said, not wanting to wait for the Headmaster to get to the point of his visit.

The Headmaster gave Severus the most disturbing of cheeky grins, as if he had contemplated literally spitting out his candy rather than have an adult conversation. Severus often suspected dementia and had been creeping up on the ancient wizard for a number of years now. It wouldn't have surprised Severus in the least if the Headmaster did such a thing, though it would disgust him to the point that he couldn't eat for the rest of the day. Thankfully, Albus thought better of such theatrics.

"What do you want, Albus?" Severus asked in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He suddenly had a headache. "You're never this nauseatingly cheerful unless you want something."

"You never let me have any fun, Severus," the Headmaster said in mock chastisement. However, his demeanour had changed abruptly. "Nevertheless—you are correct. I do want to ask something of you and it is of a very serious nature."

"I would give every galleon in my vault if one day you would just get straight to the point, old man."

Albus' face turned grave and he indeed, came straight to the point. "The death of Vincent Crabbe has made the news and Voldemort's involvement has been exposed."

"I take it Elise let this news slip?"

Severus was well aware that Elise Crabbe never fully approved of Max's association with the Dark Lord for this very reason. She did not want Vincent involved. Now her only son had paid the ultimate price for his father's sins.

"The Order has only just received this information within the hour. Madam Crabbe has left Europe all together. Once she felt herself safe, she sent a post not only to the Ministry, but to all of the wizarding news outlets. She left her home open for investigators, who found indisputable evidence of Death Eater activity as well as Maximilian's private journals."

"Any idea if Max had killed Vincent intentionally or under duress?" Severus asked.

Albus shook his head slightly. "There is no way of telling from his journals. Apparently, he was eager to introduce Vincent to Tom. He was hoping to improve his standing should he be the first to do so. However, we have no way of knowing if he willingly sacrificed his son."

"Also," Albus continued, "Tom has officially marked you for capture. It seems that he has been rather…inconvenienced by your defection. Without a Potions Master his plans have been put on hiatus."

Severus remained deceptively blasé, taking note that Albus' operative word was capture and not death.

"I was expecting as much," Severus said coolly. If it wasn't for Harry, this news wouldn't concern him in the least. He knew he could outwit any Death Eater until King Arthur returned. But Harry probably would not take the news so easily.

"Does this have anything to do with mysterious question you have yet to ask me?"

"As a matter of fact, it does. I think it might be wise if you were to make public your liberation from the Dark Mark," Albus said as easily as if he had just asked Severus to tea.

"I suppose it would make the Dark Lord look a fool in front of the entire wizarding world," Severus said as he tried to reason out Albus' request aloud. "But this is bound to anger him all the more. People will want to know how. That might expose Har…."

Severus stopped as the awful realization of what the Headmaster was asking hit him.

"NO!" Severus shouted as he stood up. "NO,NO, NO, ALBUS!" Severus continued to rant as he pounded his fist on his desk with fury. "I will not allow you to use my son!"

"Severus…you don't understand," said Albus defensively as he held up his hands in a vain attempt to calm Severus. "There may be no other way. You never heard Prophecy in its entirety. If we have any chance at all in winning this war, Harry must be involved. He is the key to Voldemort's downfall."

"I SAID NO, ALBUS!" Severus was so angry he could feel the vein throb in his temple, threatening to explode at any second. "Harry is a fifteen-year-old boy! He is not a pawn to be sacrificed in the name of your cause! He is not a lame hare to be used to draw out the foxes! He is my son, and if you dare try to lay your hands on him, I'll remove him from this school and take him so deep into hiding a pack of werewolves couldn't sniff us out!"

Severus abruptly turned away from Albus. He had to regain his control. If he looked at his old mentor much longer, Severus was afraid that he would cast an Unforgivable.

"Severus…please…Listen to reason?" Albus implored. "We need Harry. We will never be rid of Voldemort without him."

"Get out." The threat behind Severus' nearly inaudible voice was unmistakable.

"But Severus…"

Severus slowly turned to face Dumbledore, his rage seething beneath his thinly veiled demeanour of calm. "I said, get out, Albus … Get out now."

"If you would only calm yourself and listen, I…"

"Get OUT! I don't care about your excuses!" Severus shouted as he rounded his desk. Fortunately, the Headmaster was already walking towards the door, otherwise Severus would have forcibly thrown his employer out without regard to his tenure.

As the Headmaster crossed Severus' threshold, he turned one last time to Severus and said, "Honestly, Severus, you don't understand. Prophesy says …."

Severus was at the end of his tether. "You don't get it, you old fool," Severus said heatedly. "You are not recruiting my son! Damn the Prophecy. Damn this war. Damn the Dark Lord and DAMN YOU!"

Severus no longer cared that he would not have a job, even as he slammed his door in the stunned Headmaster's face