Harry slipped on his school bag and headed to his detention. His mind was set on James Potter as he wondered if everything was really true about how he wasn't his real father. Harry was traumatised over the Snape's-your-dad thing but it hadn't really sunk in. Harry didn't really believe it. It seemed like a strange dream. The thing was just not getting processed by his brain.

He was still lost in his thoughts before he bumped into Umbridge's office door. Sighing, he knocked and waited for the sugary, "Come in," before opening the door and trying not to slam it behind him.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," Umbridge smiled sweetly, a fluffy magenta cloak wrapped around her and her mousy brown hair curled.

Harry sat, looking bored, and waited. He was a little scared as to what "the surprise" was going to be.

"Though your last punishment was satisfyingly...physical, I think I have something that is even more so. Something, I have been told, that leaves a lasting impression on miscreants."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. What was she going to do? He remembered worrying about being caned by Professor McGonagall in his first-year, and the same feelings were taking course now.

Umbridge took out something long from her desk drawer and Harry nearly fainted. But it wasn't a cane-it was a wooden ruler.

Harry thought he was going to be sick.

He opened his mouth in anger, about to shout how she'd be fired, when she said, "This is quite the common punishment in other schools, Potter. And I think you've deserved it after spreading lies and distress around the school. Stand up, come to my desk, and hold our your palm."

Harry was confused. Palm? Then he understood-Umbridge was going to hit his knuckles...just like his aunt and uncle did sometimes, and just like his muggle school teachers did to other children, though much less often.

He looked carefully at Umbridge's elated face. She didn't look very strong to him, and he was probably going to have to fake a reaction to please her before she really did decide to cane him.

Standing up, he went to her desk and still nervous about whether she was strong or not, held out his palm.

Umbridge looked a little surprised at his lack of protest but then after smiling evilly, intoned, "Oh, you won't be so calm afterwards, I assure you Potter,"

Harry didn't reply. How hard could someone like her hit anyway? Remembering to gasp appropriately, he stood still.

"There will be three strikes."

Umbridge raised the ruler and whacked him seemingly as hard as she could. It stung badly-and Harry choked back a cry of surprise. But suddenly the pain seemed to grow and increase. Harry was horrified. That didn't usually happen, did it?

Oh, it hurt! The pain was increasing for some reason and his hand was red already. Umbridge looked satisfied and whacked the ruler down again.

It was agony and Harry grit his teeth, a gasp escaping. His knuckles were bruised by now and the pain was growing even more.

He looked up and saw with shock the ruler glowing green. It wasn't any ordinary wooden instrument. It had been improved by Dark Magic...so that his pain would increase...so that he would get hurt.

Rage consumed Harry but before he could push Umbridge away, the ruler came down again harder than before.

Tears stung in his eyes, but he did his best not to make a sound. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding a bit. Umbridge put the ruler away.

"You will write "I will not act up in class" fifty times," Umbridge said sweetly. "Be thankful I only hit one of your palms."

Harry glared at her and achingly made his way back to the table. How did she expect him to write with a bleeding hand!?

He took his quill out however and started writing determinedly, not willing to give her any more satisfaction. The pain was so much Harry thought he would faint.

XXX

Severus was on his night patrol duty when he heard stumbling footsteps and noises of discomfort. Rather curious as to who it was, he looked around him and saw that the voices were coming from somewhere behind the corner.

Walking to the spot, ready to chastise whoever was disobedient enough to walk around the corridors so late, Severus suddenly skid to a halt.

Oh no! It was Potter, someone he really hadn't wanted to see. But something was strange about him-the arrogant boy wasn't strutting around as he usually did, looking infuriating...he seemed to be in pain.

"What are you doing?" Snape said sharply.

Harry flinched violently when he heard him. His face paled and he backed away, holding his right hand tightly. Snape was startled to see a few stray tears on his face.

"I had a detention. Get out of my way," Harry's face coloured again. He looked at Snape in hatred and tried to move past.

A hand clamped on his shoulder before he could leave. It tightened ominously and pulled Harry back.

"Don't you dare disrespect me," Snape's voice was fierce. "And what are you hiding? Show me!"

"Get away from me!'

"Show it to me," Snape ordered, pulling Harry's hands away.

He looked confused when there was nothing there, but then stared transfixedly at Harry's right hand.

"What did you do to it?" He asked, a bit of concern colouring his voice. It was bleeding, bruised and red. It looked awful and Severus knew it needed medical attention immediately.

"I was playing Quidditch." Harry lied, pulling his hand away with a pained hiss. It was still throbbing.

Snape stared into his eyes and Harry shifted nervously. It was as if Snape knew he wasn't telling the truth. Harry fought to block his mind.

"You said you've been from detention," Snape said quietly. He seemed to be piecing things together. "With who?"

"WILL YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?"

"With who?" Snape's voice dropped an octave. "Answer me or you will regret it,"

"With Umbridge!" Harry shouted. "And I thought I told you I never want to see your face again! Get out of my way!"

"Did she do that to you?" Snape asked steadily, and Harry was a little surprised to see the anger bubbling in his eyes.

Snape didn't know where these feelings were coming from...but he was furious. Furious that Umbridge-as if he didn't hate her enough already!-had dared to do that. Even if it was to Potter. But Potter wasn't just a student. He was related to him, he was his son. Though he had almost disowned the brat, not wanting anything to do with him, he felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. The same he felt when he had tried saving Harry in the boy's first-year, doing it for Lily.

Lily.

"Answer me!" Snape shouted. "Don't just stare at me like an idiot!"

Harry winced, eyes as round as saucers. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "I-well-uh-"

"Potter!"

"Yes! Yes, she did! Can you stop interrogating me now!?" Harry finally shouted in exasperation before realising what he had done. He had told Snape!

Snape looked at him sternly for a moment before dragging him off to the dungeons.

"What the! Let go of me! Snape, I'm seriously going to-"

"Another word, and I'll tell you what I'm going to do to you," Snape spat, pulling him as quickly as he could to his office.

He opened the office door, shoved Potter in and then went inside and closed the door behind him.

"I'm going alerting the Headmaster about this. Professor Umbridge has broken severe rules-your hand will need some salve, that I'll go fetch-"

"Just like you did when you-when you-punished me?" Harry couldn't bear to say "smack". It was too humiliating.

"That's different," Snape said, looking at him with ill-disguised disgust. "I have total authority over you and you deserved it for assaulting me,"

"Oh, was it assault? Drop the formalities-I punched you just like you deserved!"

Snape's face darkened and Harry suddenly grew frightened. The man swooped over to him and Harry backed away slowly. But he couldn't escape-Snape took hold of his injured hand.

"Oww!" Harry cried, as tears filled his eyes. "Ouch! Let go, it hurts!"

Snape let go of him as if burnt.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he said, sounding sincere. He accioed some salve cream and bandage. He pushed Harry to a chair and began to tend to his hand.

Harry was staring at him in shock.

"What did she do?" Snape asked in a low voice.

"R-ruler," Harry said, still surprised. Snape was tending to him gently but it stung and he was trying his best to keep quiet.

"How many strokes? The damage is very severe,"

"Only three, but the ruler was cursed,"

"Was it?" Snape sounded interested. "If it really was, then she is in a great deal of trouble."

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he blurted out: "Why are you healing me?"

Snape paused in his ministrations of bandaging Harry's hand firmly and stared. "Pardon?"

"You hate me, even though I'm supposedly your son. You hate James Potter, though he's dead and long gone. You don't like me and want nothing to do with me, probably. You get my mother in trouble and then act towards me as if I have no right to display any emotion on the fact that you're my real father-if it's true-not James Potter." Harry said all of this in a rush, getting it all out of his system.

Snape didn't say anything for a minute. When Harry saw his face next...it actually looked slightly contrite.

"Potter-"

"And you refuse to call me by my own name. Though I don't want you to, thanks. You call me by the surname of someone who isn't even related to me,"

Snape looked like he would smack him one but he didn't. "How do you think I feel? Finding about this suddenly? For once, think of others. I never got your mother in trouble. I probably should have told you this, but I never wanted to. Dumbledore wanted to, but I wanted it to remain a secret forever. I did, however, request you to have a discussion with me but you refused to come. Your mother and I didn't just stumble past each other. We knew each other,"

"Wow, as if I don't know already. You went to school together, didn't you?"

"We were more than acquaintances. We were friends but then we drifted away. Your mother was happy with your father-"

"I thought he wasn't my father,"

"With Potter. And I forgot her." Snape seemed to pale at that sentence but he went on, "And then we met again. She wasn't happy with Potter and I tried to help her. I would never hurt her, betray her, or get her in trouble intentionally. I'm not that type of person. So you should stop accusing me of that,"

Harry blinked at him, processing all of this. He didn't know why but he believed Snape. The man couldn't lie to his face like that. Even if he was a pretty good damn actor.

"But you-you hated me the moment I came to Hogwarts."

Snape took a deep breath. "You looked like the copy of Potter,"

"You should accept me," Harry's voice was thick with raw emotion. "Accept me for once! Even after you find out I'm your son, dammit, you're the same! The same! You're not the nicest person around, but I thought you'd change. You didn't. I don't want to be your son, especially after the way you've treated me. I just can't believe this happened to me, but I can't do anything about it. What are you-"

Snape stood Harry up abruptly and looked him square in the eyes. "Stop," he said, his voice strained. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't want a son? Disown me,"

"I don't know what to do! I don't know if I should!"

"Meaning?"

"I'd probably disown you but it feels traitorous to your mother-"

"She wouldn't have wanted you with-"

"She wouldn't have wanted you to go back to those relatives of yours either,"

Harry's eyes widened, not knowing what that meant. "Take me then!' He sneered. "You don't want to betray her, prove you're worthy of being a father!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "The first thing I'm going to do is discipline you. Stay in your limits,"

But Harry was laughing bitterly and drawing out his wand. "You know what? I want to see what all the fuss is about. I want to see who I really am. I'm taking off the glamours,"

"Don't!" Snape said sharply. "Not yet, stop-"

But Harry looked determined. "I'm tired of living a lie, Professor. Finite Incantatem!"

Snape went absolutely white and Harry felt himself changing rapidly. He grew slightly taller, he felt his hair brushing against his nape in a different way, his cheekbones contort painfully and his legs grow longer. He turned away, using a wall as support, his wand dropping to the floor.

He panted against the cool wall, afraid to turn around, afraid to look at himself. He tried to reach for his wand to make himself go back to normal but he was scared he would accidentally look behind him.

Snape was standing stock-still behind him, utterly silent. The fear in the room was almost tangible.

Harry didn't know what to do so he bent down and clasped his wand carefully, finding that his new long hair (oh no, he was going to puke) was hiding his face. He used his wand to create a mid-air mirror, hands trembling and his back still to Snape.

When he saw what he saw he let out a cry of horror.