Asking for help had worked. By the time the weekend was over, Harry was confident that he was, if not caught up, at least on the way there with his schoolwork. The other teachers had been happy to help, except Professors Binns and Trelawney, whom Harry hadn’t bothered to try and approach, instead relying on either Hermione’s guidance, or making it up.

Lyle had taken Harry’s sling off, freeing his wing for the first time, which was stiff but no longer sore. Lyle advised Harry strongly not to test it until it felt the same as the other. Harry was beginning to feel quite excited at the prospect of being able to fly without a broom—doubly so since he had lost his beloved Nimbus.

Of course, he would still need a new broom for Quidditch. Wood had been bugging him about buying a new one. Harry was more concerned about what might happen should the Dementors show up again, and had asked Professor Lupin to teach him to defend himself against them. It served a double purpose, for him: learning how to repel Dementors for him seemed to be a necessary life skill, but he hoped it would also serve as a distraction from everything he was trying to process.

“You could have asked your father,” Lyle said to him quietly later. “He knows how to conjure a Patronus.”

“He does?” Harry said. “Well, I didn’t know that. Anyway, that would just raise more questions. He’s supposed to hate me, remember.”

Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Lyle—whilst he said he was not supposed to interfere in Harry’s life unless he was in trouble—was trying to get him to talk to Snape. He supposed he didn’t mind too much—the man obviously cared, probably more than he was supposed to. Still, that didn’t mean he was ready to follow his advice.

Monday, unfortunately, meant another Potions lesson. Harry had rarely been more nervous before a class.

Just get in, keep your head down, and get out, he told himself. Don’t give him any excuse to get on your case. He had no idea if Snape would still be ignoring him, or back to his façade.

The first sign of something odd was the Slytherins waiting in line. Harry was surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing separately from the rest, head slightly bent and looking thoughtful. Pansy Parkinson kept trying to talk to him but he brushed her off.

“Fallen out with your bodyguards, Malfoy?” Ron called. Hermione elbowed him.

Draco didn’t take the bait. He didn’t even look up, just frowned slightly. Harry thought this was very strange. Now he thought of it, Draco had been rather quiet since the day he’d crashed into him with the photo album. That couldn’t be the reason he was acting odd, could it?

He didn’t have time to dwell on the matter, as the classroom door opened and Snape beckoned them all in. In his thoughts about Draco, he had been completely distracted from the upcoming lesson—one thing Draco was good for, it seemed.

The lesson passed much like the last one. Snape swept past Harry’s cauldron as if he did not exist. The only difference was, the change in behaviour didn’t go unnoticed.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, leaning over towards him as Snape approached a trembling Neville. “Why’s Snape ignoring you?”

“Search me,” Harry said.

Hermione looked even more intrigued when Snape called Harry back at the end of the lesson—the only time he had even looked at him that day. For a moment she looked dangerously like she might hang around, but Harry urged her and Ron to go on and said he would catch them up. Ron glanced warily at Snape, but they agreed and finally left the classroom.

Snape sighed, checked the room was really empty of other students and put up the silencing charm before surveying Harry closely, concern in his eyes. “How are you doing?”

Harry just shrugged.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry muttered.

“If there’s anything I can do to make it easier …”

“Yeah, there is,” Harry said suddenly. “You can give me forewarning when you start being a git in class again. Right now I never know what to expect.”

Snape nodded understandingly. “Of course. For the moment, I thought it best to ignore you—I know it won’t be easy on you when we go back to the way it was before. But I promise, I will tell you beforehand.”

“Hermione’s noticed though,” Harry said. “That your attitude to me’s different. What can I tell her?”

Snape hesitated. “Well … I suppose if it comes down to it, I could pretend to have had a warning from the Headmaster. I very much doubt it would be challenged. Although I would have to tell Albus that that was what I was saying …”

“Professor,” Harry said, “what does Professor Dumbledore know about … all this? ‘Cause he’s met Lyle and he said he knew you’d told me something about my mum, but he didn’t know what. I … I’d rather he knew, sir.”

“That is all he knows, Harry. Sometimes I’ve wondered if he suspected Lily and I were … but he’s never said anything, and I never raised the subject. Not because I don’t trust him, of course I do. But Lily and I felt that the fewer people who were dragged into our complicated world, the better.”

“Did you never wish you could talk to someone about it?” Harry said incredulously.

Snape sighed. “All the time.”

“So why not tell him? Or someone?”

“I have lived as a spy since I was seventeen, Harry,” Snape said quietly. “I’m afraid my instinct is to keep everything secret unless required otherwise. I’m not very good at opening up to people, even Albus.”

“You opened up to me.”

There was a long pause. “You’re my son.”

The pause that followed that statement was even longer, and Harry felt his heart hammering. Had Snape just said what he thought he’d said?

Neither had said the word ‘son’ or ‘father’ in relation to the other yet. There had been no need for it during the explanation—Snape had made things clear enough without. The use of the word now stunned Harry. Of course, he should have realised it would be said eventually, but the expression out loud … he hadn’t been prepared for the whirl of emotions that started at the words.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Harry managed to get out, although he was clinging to the back of a chair to keep himself upright.

“Sit down,” Snape said, and gently guided him into a chair. “Why do you say you’d rather Albus knew?”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t have to be him; I just wish I could talk about all this with someone else—a neutral party, you know. Someone not actually involved, who might be able to give me some advice on handling it.”

“I see.”

“I nearly told him the other day. He asked if there was something wrong and I wanted to tell him but I didn’t. I’m pretty sure he could tell I was lying, though.”

“Yes, that is one of the Headmaster’s many gifts,” Snape said drily. “I’m sure he made it clear that he was ready to listen, should you change your mind.”

“Correct.”

“May I ask why you didn’t tell him?”

Harry paused to think his answer over. “Because I thought he would be hurt if he found out you’d kept things from him, sir. And I didn’t think you’d be very happy either if I’d said anything without first asking you if I could.”

Snape looked rather taken aback for a moment, then unexpectedly smiled. A moment later, however, he frowned.

“I want to say yes,” he said quietly, and disappointment plummeted through Harry. “But I don’t think now is a good time to upload all of this on Albus, Harry. He’s prone to overworking and over-worrying as it is, and he’s just been seriously injured—he needs time to recover properly, not have more anxieties added to his already overburdened shoulders.” Snape laid a gentle hand on Harry’s own shoulder. “However, I understand your need to talk to someone …” He looked deep in thought.

“What about Lupin?” Harry said without thinking.

Snape’s lip curled. “I’d rather you kept the w—Lupin out of this.”

“The what?” Harry asked, distracted for a moment.

“Nothing. Lupin is … I prefer not to criticise my colleagues, but I draw the line at telling Lupin anything I have told you.”

Harry tried to persuade Snape, but the man was adamant—not Lupin. “Minerva is trustworthy. And your Head of House.”

Harry left the dungeon some while later, wondering how he could pick a time to find her in a good mood, and almost ran into someone again.