Lily's Charm

1996

With its usual attitude, the Floo spit Harry out onto Remus' hearth rug; Remus looked up in surprise from the newspaper he was reading. "Harry?" His eyes sharpened as he put his paper down and asked anxiously, "What's happened?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Harry demanded right back, and Remus' face relaxed.

"Severus didn't give me a chance this morning," Remus explained, clearly expecting Harry's anger to defuse at these words.

"You could have told me before," Harry accused and Remus pursed his lips, most likely at Harry's tone. Harry folded his arms across his chest, too upset about everything to worry much about being disrespectful.

"The Headmaster only told me this morning, Harry," Remus told him, his voice hardening a bit, but Harry paid no attention.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked intently and Remus shook his head.

"It's Order business Harry, and you know perfectly well that I can't tell you where I'm going."

"Are you kidding me, Remus? If Sirius would have had his way, I'd have been inducted already!" Harry retorted angrily.

"Stop it, Harry," Remus ordered abruptly, his tone unyielding. "I'm not going to argue with you. Especially about Sirius. And you don't need to know anything else about where I'm going."

"You're as bad as he is," Harry finally snorted, making it perfectly plain who he was as he glared resentfully at Remus.

Remus sighed and turned away toward the Floo. Harry tensed, but Remus only called for the kitchens and ordered a service of tea and a plate of crumpets.

"Where is Severus?" Remus asked as he poured himself a cup of tea, after the little house elf's face had disappeared from the flames.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose he's still in the Potions classroom," he answered, acting as if he was unconcerned by his father's whereabouts as he slouched comfortably in the chair facing the Floo.

Remus straightened from the refreshments, the teacup forgotten on the table. "You suppose?" he echoed and then his brown eyes narrowed. "Does Severus know you're here?"

Harry looked down at his knees. "Erm..."

"Harry," Remus scolded, exasperated. "What did you do?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He raised his eyebrows and waited impatiently for Harry to explain.

"I overheard him and Malfoy talking about whatever plot they have with Dumbledore and Malfoy said he knew you were leaving...and he didn't seem pleased that Malfoy knew about it from some source...I was worried about you. And, he's telling secrets to Malfoy!"

Remus seemed to glean at least some of the pertinent information from Harry's muddled explanation as he nodded thoughtfully, but his first question caught Harry completely off guard. "Do you know that you're not actually calling Severus anything anymore...well, besides 'he'?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, bewildered by Remus' question.

Remus sat in the chair opposite Harry, a slight frown on his face. "Harry, I know you're struggling with everything's that happened, and you have a right to be, but...Harry, can you honestly tell me that you thought it would be a good idea to leave Severus' classroom without telling him?"

"I wasn't in his classroom," Harry muttered sullenly, averting his eyes from his friend's concerned face.

"Harry," Remus chided as he blew out a breath.

Harry looked back over at his friend. Before Remus could finish his thought, most likely one that would have included a reprimand, Harry shook his head. "What does that have to do with my not calling him...well, I don't know what to call him," Harry told his friend, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Remus smiled. "Why not?"

Harry stared at him. "Why not?" he repeated incredulously. Remus didn't respond. "I just can't," he said tightly when Remus just continued to look at him.

"Harry, I know you're not completely comfortable yet-"

"No, you don't understand, Remus," Harry argued as he shook his head, his voice very small. "If I call him anything else, it...will make it true. I...can't go back then." Harry's robes were tangled in his fingers; his eyes had closed with his confession.

"Harry," Remus said gently as he moved toward the boy, "it already is true."

"I know that," Harry whispered miserably. "But if he changes his mind, Remus..." Harry swallowed, unable to finish the thought. He didn't need to though. Remus understood, as he always seemed to.

"Severus is not going to change his mind. And you, refusing to let yourself open up to him because you're afraid of getting hurt, is just hurting both of you."

Harry finally looked up at his friend, blinking rapidly. He had not even considered that he could have been hurting Snape. Remus nodded at him, as if he understood the conclusion Harry had just come to and was affirming that indeed the Potions Master could be hurt by Harry's behavior.

Without warning, Dumbledore's face appeared in the flames behind Remus and as soon as he spotted Harry, his face went slack with relief. "Harry...thank Merlin," he breathed. "Your father is frantic with worry." Before Harry could even process the Headmaster's words, Dumbledore's face had disappeared from the flames and then Snape was storming through, his expression thunderous.

"Have you lost your mind?" he raged at Harry as soon as he was clear of the fireplace and striding quickly toward him. Harry stood and took several steps backward, trying to keep a safe distance between himself and the enraged man.

"Severus, calm down," Remus implored quietly, standing as well.

Snape rounded on him.

Wildly afraid that his father was going to try to strangle Remus again, Harry lunged between the two of them, and Snape had to rear back, his feet backpedaling almost comically to stop himself grabbing the front of Harry's robes in his fists.

Harry stared at his father. Snape glared back at him, his chest heaving and then he was stepping toward him again, leaning in menacingly. "Do you have any idea how imbecilic that was? I don't care how angry you are...how dare you just leave, without any way for me to know where you are!" Snape roared at him, the shout so loud that Harry wanted to cover his ears as he cringed.

"You could have been anywhere. Do you not have any sense?" his father raged, the volume increasing slightly and Snape's face tensed even further in righteous anger as he continued his tirade. "How many times do you need to hear me tell you that you are not to go off alone, before it will penetrate your skull?" Harry opened his mouth to interject an explanation, but Snape was not nearly finished. "How did you expect me to explain to Draco that you had left? Did you wish me to tell him that you are so convinced that I am only just waiting to be rid of you, that you need to run off to Lupin every time something concerns you?"

Harry shook his head in denial, but with an angry movement, Snape waved his calloused hand toward Remus' table full of refreshments. "That you came to have tea while I was running about the castle like some idiotic first year, attempting to discover if had been captured by lurking Death Eaters?"

"I-" Harry's throat was too clogged to finish the apology.

Something flashed in his father's eyes. He leaned in closer, his voice all of a sudden low and rough as he said, "As you apparently did not understand my meaning the first two times I said it, I will say it again. You are my son. Nothing is going to change that...no matter how many times you give me the urge to throttle you." When Harry could only stare at him, Snape asked, "Do you understand me now?"

Harry didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to grab Snape and never let him go. But Harry was pretty sure his father wouldn't exactly appreciate a hug in front of Remus--or at all. "I-Yes, sir...erm...sir." Not exactly sure what that had been, Harry's cheeks flamed and he looked away from Snape's piercing gaze. When he looked back up, Harry found his father's eyes deeply shadowed and he almost seemed to be smiling, though his mouth was still held firmly in a frown.

"If you ever do something so foolish again, you will have more to deal with than a lecture. Do I make myself clear?" Harry didn't have any idea what his father meant by that either, but the threat effectively squelched any desire Harry might have had to find out. He nodded hastily, leaving off any more awkward responses and for once, Snape didn't seem to mind. "Excellent," he approved. Not giving Harry any chance to respond, Snape turned abruptly, saying "Albus, we need to change our plans."

Harry started. He peered around his father's black robes to find the Headmaster watching them with keen interest. Remus, on the other hand, was pouring cups of the still-warm tea for all of them, seeming not to be paying any attention to Harry and his father.

Glancing back at Harry, Snape pointed to one of Remus' chairs and ordered, "Sit." Harry sat, not daring to argue.

With a gentle smile, Remus handed Harry a cup of steaming tea. Harry smiled back, wanting to apologize to Remus for being such a prat. He didn't even know why he had been acting that way. And maybe, just maybe, his friend had been right. After all, Snape had just told Harry, in front of Dumbledore and Remus, that nothing was going to change his mind about Harry. Harry grinned.

Snape caught his eye and at his father's raised eyebrow, Harry's smile widened. Snape shook his head slightly though he didn't seem annoyed by his smile, more...amused.

"What plans are we changing?" Harry asked eagerly, feeling at ease after Snape's mild look.

Snape turned to the Headmaster, apparently ignoring Harry's question. "Nott knows about Lupin's plans, Albus. I can only assume others among the Death Eaters know as well...possibly even the Dark Lord."

"Not Lucius?" Dumbledore asked, looking very concerned but Snape shook his head.

"Not now, when his son's life is in danger," he said as he glanced at Harry.

Harry wasn't exactly sure if his father had meant the quick look to be significant, but he felt warmed by it all the same. And before he could lose his nerve, he asked quickly, "What's wrong with Malfoy?"

"You did not hear enough of my conversation with Mr. Malfoy to deduce his little problem?" Snape asked sardonically; Harry flushed.

"You meant for me to hear?"

But his father shook his head. "I realized after you had left that I had not activated the reverse Silencing Spells. A rather foolish mistake," he admitted.

"Who's Malfoy supposed to kill?" Harry blurted, ignoring Snape's rather startling admission that he was not infallible. All three wizards turned their heads so that they were staring directly at Harry.

"Severus, I think it would be best to start at the beginning," Dumbledore advised, the first to find his voice.

Severus frowned as he looked at Harry and his gaze turned suddenly much sterner as he said quietly, "I want to make it clear that there will be some things that we will not share with you. You will have to accept that."

Harry sighed, feeling both frustrated and resigned before he argued, "If I'm captured by Death Eaters, it's not going to matter how much more I know. I'm still 'The Boy Who Lived', either way."

Snape's jaw clenched and he commanded sharply, "Do not speak of such things so casually."

Harry nodded quickly, but still pressed, "All right, even without being cap...erm...even so, I could still help you," Harry amended as his father's scowl deepened. "I can," he insisted, as his father shook his head.

But it was the Headmaster who said, "Harry, you can't help with everything. If your father is willing, you can help with the Malfoys, but that's all."

He knew he shouldn't, but Harry turned to Remus anyway. "Remus?" he implored.

Remus, after a quick glance at Snape, shook his head, "No, Harry...your father's right."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Remus had just referred to Snape as his father, and when it registered, Harry turned back to Snape, who was watching him again, his eyes narrowed. Harry bit his lip and just nodded. "All right," he conceded. Without further conversation, the Headmaster began the explanation, during which Snape didn't once take his eyes from Harry's face.

"Voldemort was, to put it mildly, furious with Lucius for failing to retrieve the prophecy at the Ministry of Magic. After torturing him within an inch of his sanity, he gave Draco orders to kill me," Dumbledore said quietly.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. Somehow, even after eavesdropping on his father's conversation with Malfoy, he hadn't been expecting that. "Why?" Harry asked, mystified.

"Voldemort fully expects Draco to fail. When he does, as it would be a fate worse than anything he could otherwise to do Lucius, Voldemort will force both Lucius and Narcissa to watch as Draco is slowly tortured to death."

Harry's stomach chilled with ice as Dumbledore's words punctured his conscience.

"Draco will not die, Harry," his father assured him, and Harry felt the ice thawing.

"But, how?" he asked, looking up to find his father's eyes.

Snape held his gaze and then Dumbledore was explaining, "Lucius asked Severus for help. It seems the threat of Draco's death was too much for his mother."

"Narcissa insisted that Lucius talk to me," Snape interjected and Harry shook his head in confusion.

"But how could Malfoy know you wouldn't tell Voldemort? You've supposedly been loyal to him for seventeen years." The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled instantly as he watched his father shifting slightly in his chair. "Bloody hell!" he exploded. "Malfoy knows you're a spy," he concluded, and the realization made him feel light-headed.

"Harry," his father said quietly. Then, when Harry didn't move, Snape demanded, "Look at me, Harry."

Harry brought his eyes up slowly, but the panic wouldn't leave. "But if he knows about you...what if he tells...and what about us?" he asked, his voice rising as more and more troubling scenarios wound themselves around Harry's thoughts.

"Lucius knows nothing more than that I am spying for Albus and the Order. Even if he were to find out that you are my son, he will not do anything to jeopardize Draco."

"But," Harry began to object.

"He will not cross me," Snape promised, his voice dark. Chills ran up and down Harry's spine at the implication in his father's words.

"You would let Malfoy-"

"Yes."

Harry shivered again as he took that in.

"But if Malfoy doesn't kill you, Professor, how will you be able to stop Voldemort?" Harry finally asked when he could keep his voice steady enough to speak again.

"Voldemort does not expect Draco to accomplish his task, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "It is part of his pleasure, watching Lucius suffer through these months."

Though Harry could understand that, he wasn't about to accept it as any sort of explanation. "But, eventually?" he insisted.

"Voldemort will have to be dealt with before he can dole out his revenge," Dumbledore said simply; Harry frowned.

"Dealt with?" he confirmed. "You mean, killed, don't you?" Harry looked at the other men surrounding him in Remus' quarters, and saw the answer in all of their eyes. Gnashing his teeth together, Harry demanded, "And this is what you thought you should keep from me? You want me to kill Voldemort...when...in the next few months and you didn't think I should know about it?"

"There's no reason for you to have to worry about this," Remus put in, but Harry waved an angry hand.

"I'm not a child, Remus! I don't need to be coddled," he said sharply. Remus nodded easily in assent, which made Harry wish he hadn't used such a sharp tone but then as the next thought came to him, he turned abruptly to his father. "And, if I am going to have to fight Voldemort, it might actually help if I knew how to do it," he rapped out, his voice losing none of its heat.

The only sign his father might not have appreciated Harry's tone was the way his lips thinned before he said, "It will help, yes. Did you not think there was a reason for our Occlumency lessons, or your continuation of the D.A. group?"

"But now that I know, you can train me even more, can't you?" he asked, paying no attention to the surprised look on his father's face. "I mean, this is Voldemort we're talking about." He stopped speaking as Dumbledore and Remus gave him very strange looks. "What?" he questioned, looking confusedly between them. "Prof...erm, sir?" he hemmed as he settled his gaze on Snape, blushing as he faltered.

His father seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. "I did not realize the idea would excite you quite so much," Snape explained carefully, and Harry decided his father was trying not to sound too disdainful as he described how he thought Harry was feeling. Harry snorted.

"You didn't think I'd want to be rid of that bastard as soon as possible?" he marveled. "Does it seem like I've been enjoying his attempts to kill me every year?" he questioned with a laugh, though the topic wasn't in the least funny and none of the others looked at all amused.

"Of course not, Harry," Remus assured him, smiling slightly. "We just all thought you'd be more concerned about it."

"Well of course I'm concerned. I'd be a nutter if I wasn't worried. I don't want to fight Voldemort, you know. But I'm not going to sit here complaining about it, am I?"

Dumbledore and Remus exchanged looks and Harry scowled. He knew he hadn't exactly been at his best the last few months, but sweet Merlin, did they have to act as though he was some sort of mental case?

"What's Remus going to do now?" Harry asked tightly, wanting to steer all of them away from their speculations about his state of mind.

"Now that my boy, you do not need to know," Dumbledore told him cheerfully and Harry stiffened again.

"But if Malfoy and whoever else knows, you can't send him, right?" he asked, peering closely at the Headmaster, who smiled infuriatingly back at Harry. "It'll be too dangerous-"

"The plans will be changed accordingly," Snape cut in smoothly before Harry's worry could overtake him again.

Harry ignored that and turned immediately to Remus. "You can't do it, Remus. Not if Voldemort knows! You'll be killed."

"Harry, the plan will change. I promise, all right?" Remus said seriously. Harry nodded shakily, and then Remus grinned as he added, "I don't think Tonks would be too happy if I got myself killed."

Feeling much better at the mention of Tonks, Harry smiled as well. After all, Harry had a good reason to keep himself alive as well.

"Remus, we should be going," Dumbledore said as stood up, shaking out his robes. The others in the room followed suit, each rising out of his chair. Dumbledore turned to Snape to ask, "Severus, when will the Wolfsbane be ready?"

"Harry and I will finish it in the next few hours. I will have it sent to you."

Dumbledore smiled. "Wonderful, Severus. Harry, my boy, take care of yourself...and your father, if you wouldn't mind." The old blue eyes twinkled as they always did and Harry felt a moment's rush of warmth for the Headmaster. He still wasn't completely convinced thatDumbledore hadn't had a hand in keeping his father from him but at least now he seemed to want them to be together.

"I'll try, sir," Harry promised, grinning at the frown that overtook Snape's face.

Dumbledore chuckled and turned toward the Floo. Harry's chest constricted as Remus stepped closer. "Harry, I'm afraid I'll be out of contact for the next few days. Do take care of yourself, all right? I'll expect to find you in one piece when I return," he said in mock-seriousness. The attempt at levity failed miserably.

"You be careful, Remus. Tonks isn't the only one who needs you," Harry said gravely as he looked at his friend.

Remus nodded and after only a quick hesitation, during which he again glanced at Snape, he pulled Harry into a tight hug. With his breath hitching, Harry returned the embrace fiercely. And then Remus was pulling away and with one final glance, he walked into the Floo with the Headmaster, and both of them were gone.

There was silence as the green flames died down. "We need to finish the Wolfsbane," Snape finally said and Harry was well aware of the reason for the stiff edge to his father's voice.

"Right," Harry answered as he walked back to the Floo, with his father following him this time. Harry took some of Remus' powder from the wooden box on the mantel and after Snape had joined him in the fireplace, Harry threw the glittery powder down, calling, "Severus Snape's quarters-Hogwarts!" With a great roar and a whoosh, Harry and his father were deposited on the familiar blue hearth rug.

"You are certainly well-versed in the use of a Floo," Snape intoned as he and Harry returned to the lab.

Harry glanced up at his father. "Er, yeah. I'm, well...I'm sorry about leaving, erm..."

"I was simply making an observation, not seeking an apology," his father told him. He pointed to the mortar and pestle as he instructed, "Finish crushing the Dried Salamander Hearts, if you would."

Harry complied as Snape removed the Stasis Charm he'd applied over the cauldron earlier and began adding pinches of various ingredients from the vials and flasks he had arranged earlier. They worked in silence until Harry asked tentatively, "You told Malfoy that you, uh, had me 'under control'...?"

Snape raised his eyes to look at Harry. "I did."

Harry bit his lip, looking down again at the hearts he was still crushing into a fine powder. "Did you...I mean, well...what did you mean by that...um, sir?"

His father's lips twitched. "You thought perhaps I had duplicitous plans concerning you?"

"Uh, no, sir," Harry said uncomfortably, shaking his head in denial.

"It was misdirection, Harry," Snape assured him, seeming quite amused by Harry's discomfort.

"Right, erm...yeah," Harry agreed quickly, wishing he could stop stuttering like a bloody mountain troll.

"The hearts need to be added now," Snape instructed, eyeing the mortar. "Adequate," he remarked as Harry brought the hearts, which were now reduced to a fine powder, over to his father. "Pour it in slowly, at an even pace," Snape ordered. He watched closely as Harry followed his directions; Harry was being as careful as he could while he poured.

Snape nodded approvingly and then as Harry set the stone bowl back on the counter, Harry asked suspiciously, "You're not hoping I'll mess up and the Potion will end up poisoning Remus, are you?"

The same twitch of the lips. "Hardly. Think what that would do to my reputation," Snape drawled innocently. And with that, Snape gave the Potion a final stir before turning toward the door and saying over his shoulder, "I believe it is time for lunch."

Grinning, Harry followed him. "I was thinking about that. It would work wonders for your reputation with Voldemort."

His father spared him a glance. "Indeed," he agreed dryly.

Harry shook his head, enjoying the exchange. But once they reached the sitting room, he stood uncertainly while Snape called for the kitchens, positioning himself so that Harry was effectively blocked from the house-elf's view. Snape spoke briefly to the house-elf, though Harry couldn't make out what he was saying and then Snape was turning around again. A platter of food, with place settings for two popped into existence on the table next to the fireplace.

Snape seemed to be waiting for something. Harry didn't move though, feeling very awkward as he stood next to one of his mother's chairs, with the prospect of sitting down to a meal with his father looming up on him.

"The young men in Slytherin always seem to have quite an appetite. I assume you have as well." Snape's tone was relaxed, and that made Harry even more nervous.

"Uh, yeah...I mean, yes," Harry answered, trying very hard to quit the ridiculous stumbling all over himself. Remus' words kept coming back to him, encouraging him. And still he couldn't bring himself to address the man as anything other than 'sir', and even that title was beginning to make Harry squirm.

"Would you like to sit?" Snape asked. The question was innocuous enough, but Harry flushed anyway.

Not even bothering to answer as his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, Harry walked gingerly toward the table and sat in the chair farthest from where Snape was standing. His father sat in the other chair wordlessly. He lifted the lid from the platter, gesturing that Harry should serve himself. Harry hesitated but then as his father nodded, he helped himself to one of the delicious looking sandwiches on the tray.

"Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, Harry," his father said simply and feeling vastly relieved, Harry began to eat. But even with Harry's relief, lunch was a much too silent affair.

--

"Is it ready, then?" Harry asked, two wary hours later as he watched Snape adding a vial of tiny Dragon Scales to the Wolfsbane."

"That is the final ingredient," Snape told him. "The Wolfsbane needs to be stored while still bubbling, so we will need to work quickly. Hand me that flask." Harry handed the indicated flask to his father.

Snape set the flask on the table and then took out his wand, tapping the hot cauldron and then the empty glass flask in turn. "Transfero Wolfsbane," his father ordered and the contents of the cauldron rose up, forming a long stream and then the stream was flowing downward into the flask with a gentle gurgle. Snape slid a cork into the flask and nodded, apparently satisfied.

Harry grinned, still amazed as ever at the things magic could do. "Wow," he said appreciatively.

Snape didn't comment on Harry's wonder. "I need to send this up to the Headmaster's office," he said. "Then we should return to the classroom so your friends will be able to retrieve you when they return from Hogsmeade."

"Is it so late already?" Harry wondered, surprised.

Snape cast a Tempus Charm. It was nearly four o'clock. Feeling mildly disappointed, Harry watched Snape banishing all the equipment and ingredients bottles from the table before picking up the flask of Wolfsbane Potion and returning to the parlor. After he'd sent the Flask to Dumbledore, Snape turned back to Harry, his lips set firmly together.

"I trust you did understand this time, the idea that you are not to be alone anywhere in or out of the castle?" Snape asked, almost sneering and Harry was taken aback by the abrupt change in his father's mood.

"Well, no...I mean, not really, sir..." Harry started to answer and then sort of trailed off, unnerved by Snape's glare.

"It was not clear that I do not want you to be alone?" he demanded, looking thunderous.

"Um, no...I mean, yes sir, it was clear, sir...just...well, but not why...sir," Harry finally managed to say, not at all sure his father would be able to understand the garbled response.

Snape scowled. "Your answers are becoming more and more muddled with each passing minute," he observed darkly.

Apparently not.

Harry sighed, hoping Snape wouldn't catch on to just why he was feeling so muddled. The likelihood of that however was maddeningly low. "Why don't you just tell me why I need to be under constant guard?" he managed to ask, pleased with his coherency this time.

"I would have thought that would have been clear as well," Snape told him, narrowing his eyes.

Harry ground his teeth. "Yeah, well, not all of us are as clever as your Slytherins, Professor," he bit out and then flushed. He added lamely, "...er, I mean...sir." He chewed his lip while he watched Snape's mask slip into place.

"'Professor' will do, if you prefer the title," Snape informed him tonelessly, his voice smooth as glass.

"Uh...oh, yeah...all right..." Harry tried to agree, his cheeks flaming in regret, embarrassment and myriad other emotions that Harry couldn't even begin to identify.

Snape nodded and turned away, the pain not nearly shadowed enough for Harry to miss it this time. Harry's heart clenched against his ribcage as he witnessed the hurt that Remus had been so sure Snape was feeling. Harry drew a breath; it was now or never, then.

"...Dad..."

Snape froze and Harry stammered, "...erm, or...Father, if you would prefer that...sir."

--

Dad.

Severus froze, his breath catching in his chest at the word, and then his thoughts were reeling back to James' innocent jibe, fifteen years ago.

"Severus, for the love of Merlin, do you have to do that in here?"

Severus raised his black eyebrow at James' irritated query. "You have an office, you do realize," Severus returned. James glowered at him. Severus didn't even pause as he continued plying quill to parchment, the steady scratch, scratch, making the corners of James' mouth turn down even further.

Severus knew perfectly well what had James in such a foul temper, and he smiled to himself as he enjoyed the memory of James' anger at the mutt this afternoon. And Black's confusion and the wonderfully hurt look on his face when James had snapped at him for insulting Severus. Severus stifled the urge to let his smirk touch his lips. James was still directing his glare at Severus every few minutes; no need to anger the Gryffindor any further.

"Sev."

His wife's musical voice had Severus looking up from his parchment and stilling his quill. James heaved a sigh of relief at the interruption.

Lily noticed immediately, as she shifted Harry to her other hip and eyed the two men. "James, you're not still upset about Sirius, are you?" she asked, concern touching her emerald eyes.

James flushed and turned back to his own parchment. "No," he lied, and Severus made a small noise. James' eyes flashed back up to the Potions Master. Severus allowed himself a small smirk this time. The expression made James roll his eyes before he turned back to his work.

Lily just shook her head at the two men and turned to her husband. "Harry wants you to read him a story before bedtime...don't you, Harry?" she asked the little boy. Harry smiled and reached for Severus.

"Daddy," Harry demanded as he reached out for Severus. Severus stood immediately and took the little boy in his arms, reaching out automatically to smooth down the boy's ceaselessly messy hair.

"Are you ready for bed, Harry?" Severus asked his little son. Harry shook his head at the suggestion, his lips puckering in a frown.

"Daddy will read you a story," Lily promised the child and Harry smiled toothily up his father, while Severus gave Lily a slight frown, as he always did when she referred to him that way.

But before he could react appropriately, James cut in, "You really better get used to it, Severus. One of these days, it'll probably just be Dad." He looked highly amused by Severus' chagrin.

Dad? It was a foreign word to Severus, who had called his own father nothing but father... or more often, sir. But it wasn't as though Tobias had ever done anything to warrant emulation. And judging by the way Lily was grinning between her husband and son, Severus couldn't help but feeling that perhaps Dad might suit his son quite nicely.

...One of these days, it'll probably just be Dad.

James of course could have had no idea just how this day would have come and Severus, feeling as though he could no longer breathe, turned slowly, carefully erecting his shields so his face would not betray even a hint of his near-panic as he searched for what to say. And even when Severus was finally facing his son, words eluded him still.

Harry was shifting nervously, his feet fairly dancing as he stood there, waiting for Severus to respond. What was he supposed to say? How could he explain to Harry how much he had missed the word, though back then it had been Daddy?

Severus wanted to tell Harry again that he could address him however he chose but he was certain that such an ambiguous response would make his son even more anxious than he had been all day as he had struggled with what to call him. And it wasn't lost on Severus that Harry had chosen Dad first and had only added on Father as he saw how the first had affected him.

And Harry was still staring. Damn. Severus had to tread carefully. His son was much more fragile than even he could have dreamed of. Best not to tamper too much with their somewhat tenuous peace. Holding his features as smoothly as he could, Severus said carefully, "The first will suffice." And then he awaited judgment.

--

Snape slowly turned around and Harry, feeling incredibly foolish, shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the man to say something. Anything.

But Snape was staring, just staring and Harry was about to retract the entire idiotic attempt when his father said stiffly, "The first will suffice."

The first? Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing. Snape couldn't even bring himself to say the word! Harry couldn't stop his lips from twitching madly though as his father continued to watch him, the stiffness slowly draining from his angular face.

"All right," Harry agreed nonchalantly, keeping the laughter firmly at bay. He pushed his hands into his pockets for good measure, trying to demonstrate how easy the whole exchange had been. His father, it seemed, was not fooled.

"We should be going before your friends began to wonder if I've resorted to testing Muggle tortures on you," he said, his voice lilting a bit with what Harry was beginning to recognize as humor.

He smiled. "All right, but I still want to know why I can't go anywhere alone," he reminded his father pointedly and Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Surely you realize that the Dark Lord is quite desperate to see you again."

Harry nodded. "He's been after me for years, though. I've been alone before," he said with a shrug.

His father firmed his lips. "Albus has very different ideas than I do about how best to keep you safe."

Harry blinked. "So, then...this is your idea?"

Snape scowled at Harry's choice of words. "It is not an idea," he scathed. "Every one of the Dark Lord's followers has orders to find a way to get their hands on you. You are well protected within the castle's walls but I do not wish to trust even its security. There is more than one Death Eater's child who would be pleased to hand you over to Voldemort."

Harry started at his father's use of Voldemort's name, and his father gave him a pointed look as if to say, "See, I can be just as enlightened as your little friends." Harry was pretty sure the likelihood of Snape actually thinking that was dismally low, however.

Harry turned his thoughts from the surprise he felt and asked the obvious question, "So the Slytherins have orders as well?"

"Do not be naive. Not all Slytherins are the children of Death Eaters," was Snape's sharp response.

Harry paused to consider that; it did of course make sense. Just as not all Gryffindors were honorable. Peter Pettigrew certainly hadn't been.

"But, do the others-"

"I do not know," Snape told him, his voice full of regret.

"You can't know everything," he tried to reassure his father. Snape's upper lips curled slightly.

"I am surprised however to hear you acknowledge as much," he said coolly.

Harry shrugged, not all bothered by Snape's light barb. "Most of the things I don't know, I could know, if someone would just tell me," he returned, and he was surprised when his father glanced away.

"Harry," Snape said quietly when he was looking at Harry again, "I do realize that you need to be included more than you have been in the past..." at Harry's eager look, Snape held up a hand, "...but, whether you want to admit or not, you are still a child. Some decisions will have to be made for you."

Harry glared up at his father. "I'm not a child. I've done-"

But Snape interrupted him again. "Yes," he agreed, "you have accomplished more in your life than any young man ought to, but that does not make you an adult. More importantly though, there are some things that you just cannot do."

Harry, trying to listen carefully to his father's words, didn't rise again to anger. "You keep saying that...you and Remus and Dumbledore. But, even if I can't do whatever it is the three of you are doing, you could still tell me and maybe I could help somehow," he reasoned. Snape had the gall to raise a scornful brow.

"You forget, Harry, that I have watched you for five years, rushing off at any sign of trouble, without a thought to anything else," Snape informed him, looking both annoyed and amused, though how he could, Harry really had no idea.

And Harry wondered if Snape had realized he had just given him a very important clue. Well, even if he hadn't, he was clued in quickly as Harry smiled in spite of himself. His father leaned in toward him again and he said threateningly, "Which is a pattern, you will not be continuing."

Harry swallowed, wondering how Snape could switch so swiftly from amused to menacing. "Erm...okay," Harry hurriedly assured the man.

Snape pulled back and after eying Harry critically, said, "I am quite serious, Harry."

"Yeah...I sort of got that," Harry told him smartly, though he was smiling.

"Make sure you do not forget it," his father stressed, still glaring at him and Harry laughed.

"I'm pretty sure you're not likely to let me."

"No, I am not," his father assured him, his eyes shadowing once again, but this time, Harry was convinced the pain he saw in those obsidian eyes was not caused by anything he had done.

--

After they had stepped through Snape's office Floo, his father grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him back from his attempt to open the door. Harry looked up questioningly, and Snape pointed silently to a small round orb on his desk; it was glowing a bright red.

Not bothering to explain, Snape used his wand to tap the orb gently. The red mist dissipated and then the shapes of three people began to form. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were standing around the frogs that Harry had not finished gutting. Harry grinned at the suspicious looks on their faces as they stared down at the dead animals, as though they were wondering if a transfigured Harry could be among the pile.

"It seems your friends are early," Snape intoned, making Harry glance up nervously at him.

"You're not going to make me finish those frogs, are you?" he asked. It would be just like Snape to do just that, after he'd banished his friends from the room, of course.

"Are you going to be erecting any more Privacy Spells in public?" Snape returned, rather snidely to Harry's ears.

Harry opened his mouth to argue that it hadn't really been in public but since that wouldn't get him anywhere, he asked instead, "How did you even know about that?"

"I have my ways," his father said mysteriously and Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes that time.

"Am I going to be able to do anything without you knowing about it?" he complained. Snape peered down at him.

"I would not advise doing anything you would not wish me to know about."

Harry's cheeks burned as he thought about all the time he'd spent with Ginny, the two of them all but plastered together by a Sticking Charm. Ignoring Harry's embarrassment, Snape strode to his office door and jerked it open. Harry followed, wishing he could sink through the floor. The feeling was made worse at Ginny's wide grin. Hermione smiled as well, though Ron's expression was more like a scowl.

Ginny's smile faltered though as soon as she noticed Harry's deep flush. She narrowed her eyes and turned to Snape.

Before she could even open her mouth, Snape informed her, "You may rest assured that there is no need for your ire."

Ginny, looking surprised that Snape would address her without bellowing or sneering, turned to Harry for confirmation. He nodded. Unconvinced, the redhead turned back to Snape. "Then why are you making him disembowel frogs?" she demanded. "This wasn't supposed to be a real detention," she reminded him tartly.

"Perhaps you should ask Harry," Snape suggested mildly and then turned away to return to his desk. The four Gryffindors watched, mesmerized, as the Potions Master's robes billowed around him, and Harry knew a frivolous urge to ask his father just how the hell he did that.

And then Harry's friends were staring at him instead, most likely in amazement that the cold Potions Master had just called their friend Harry. He shrugged, hoping Ron and Hermione would quit staring at him. He'd had enough of just being looked at today.

Hermione finally whispered to Harry, "Well, Harry?"

As she was obviously referring to the frog gutting, Harry shrugged. "Privacy Spell," he explained and then wished he hadn't. Ron turned to glare at Snape.

"Unless you wish to finish Harry's task, Mr. Weasley, I suggest you find another expression." Ron's face immediately snapped out of its glower. He turned back to Harry.

"Still a git, I see," he noted quietly.

Harry cringed, knowing that his father would have been able to hear Ron's slur. But when no further comment came from Snape, Harry just shrugged, not wanting to insult his father...at least not in front of him.

"Ronald," Hermione hissed and then darted a quick glance towards Snape's desk. Snape was back to marking essays and didn't seem to be paying any attention to Harry or his friends.

Harry couldn't figure out how or even if he should say goodbye to his father, so he settled for simply telling his friends, "We better get going." Ron and Hermione nodded eagerly.

Ginny, however, was watching Harry. She turned abruptly back to Snape. "Goodbye, Professor," she said confidently and Harry wished he could kiss her as Snape looked up.

"Ms. Weasley," he acknowledged.

"See you later," Harry rushed out and his father nodded.

"I will see you Tuesday evening," he told him. "You will need to go to the Headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall will escort you."

Right. Remus would be gone. Harry had almost forgotten about that and now all his worries came rushing back. Snape's voice startled him out of his concerns though, as he said in a hard tone, "I expect you to keep our earlier conversation private."

Harry's stomach flipped at his father's words. There was no way he could promise not to tell his friends about everything, especially about Draco. Ron and Hermione had been with him every step for five years, and now Ginny...well, he certainly wasn't about to keep this from her. And Snape had no right to ask him to. Harry was certain it was only his general dislike of everything Gryffindor that would even make this an issue.

But as Harry didn't think it would be the best idea to offer up any of these excuses in front of his friends, he nodded, even though he knew he would fare no better once Snape found out about the blatant lie. Well he would just have to make sure Snape didn't find out, Harry told himself. It was as simple as that.

With that thought firmly ensconced in his brain, he turned at Snape's nod of dismissal and left with his friends. "We need to go somewhere private," Harry told them as soon as they were well clear of his father's classroom.

------

Hermione had been predictably reluctant for Harry to go against his father's wishes and even Ginny vacillated, but after Ron's rather startling argument that neither of them would have hesitated to defy their parents if they thought it necessary, both girls had given in. Hermione even put up the Silencing Spell this time, after Harry had explained that Snape had somehow known about the one he'd done. He was still hoping fervently that his father wouldn't be able to detect Hermione's as well.

Flitwick filled in for Remus on Monday, in both the classroom and in the D.A. group. Harry and the other members of the D.A. were astonished at just how powerful the tiny little Professor was. Flitwick, absurdly pleased at their praise, had demonstrated a magnificent Crushing Jinx amidst the oohs and ahhs of the students. Even Harry, who at first had been resentful of Flitwick for taking Remus' place, had been impressed.

Tuesday found Harry back in Potions class, with a subdued Malfoy. Harry, feeling distinctly uncomfortable after Saturday's revelations, couldn't even bring himself to find anything to be annoyed at the Slytherin for. Harry even found himself going out of his way to make sure he didn't annoy Malfoy, quickly adding ingredients as soon as Malfoy looked at him and dicing the slimy grubs before Malfoy could. It seemed a wasted effort however, as the silent Slytherin boy didn't even seem to notice; he was too busy staring at things unseen.

By the end of class, Malfoy looked thoroughly depressed, and Harry felt a rush of pity for the other boy as he watched him leaving the classroom with his two usual companions. Harry knew exactly how that felt, at least...the constant presence of his friends. Come to think of it, Harry knew the threat of torture and death by Voldemort's hand as well.

Harry, completely lost to his thoughts hadn't noticed the nearly empty classroom until Ron hissed impatiently from the door, "Harry!"

Harry looked up. Ron made a 'come on' motion with his head and Harry scrambled to stuff his belongings into his sack; without meaning to, he caught Snape's eye. His father was studying him, as though the man was trying to determine something and with a lurch, Harry remembered his mild deception on Saturday. Regretting it much too late, Harry turned quickly from Snape;s calculating eyes and hurried to join Ron and Hermione by the door, wishing that he didn't have to see his father again this evening.

"How could he possibly know?" Hermione wondered as Harry and his friends worked on their homework in the library after dinner.

Harry shrugged. "Who knows, but he seems to know everything I'm doing," he muttered over the essay Flitwick had assigned for Defense.

"Some sort of Surveillance Charm?" Ron guessed, but Hermione shook her head.

"I've never heard of one," she told them, as if that settled the matter.

"That doesn't mean there isn't one," Harry told his friend grouchily, overly nervous about the possibility of a confrontation with Snape later. Hermione lifted a lofty brow and turned back to one of her ever-present books. Harry tried to ignore Ron's reproachful glare, but finally sighed and offered a quiet apology.

Hermione glanced up again, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, you did have a point," she conceded. "Do you want me to see if I can find anything about a Surveillance Charm?" she asked, her eyes lighting now with renewed fervor. Harry chuckled as he nodded.

Ron, looking much happier with Harry's apology, asked, "How many frogs do you think he'll make you gut this time?"

Harry shook his head resignedly. "He'll probably make it mice this time."

Hermione made a face and Ron grinned. "Better you than me, mate."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, thinking it was going to become very tiresome having a professor for a father.

"Maybe he doesn't even know," Ginny put in, obviously hoping to soothe Harry's worry but he shook his head.

"Well if he doesn't, he's got something else on his mind and that's probably even worse."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's impatient voice interrupted, and the four Gryffindors looked up at their head of house. Harry almost groaned. But he stood up anyway, knowing there was no way to avoid seeing his father. Harry gathered his things together. McGonagall turned away, expecting Harry to follow. And after a kiss to Ginny, he did.

"Good luck, mate!" Ron called after him, chortling unnecessarily. Harry heard a muffled, "Oomph," as his friend was likely elbowed in the ribs by Hermione. Harry grinned.

When Harry and McGonagall reached the imposing Gargoyle, she stopped abruptly and demanded, "Is he mistreating you?"

Taken aback, Harry stammered, "What...what do you mean?"

The Professor waved her fingers pointedly toward the Headmaster's office, indicating that Snape was waiting for them. "I will not stand by and let him-"

"No, Professor," Harry interrupted quickly. "He hasn't done anything."

McGonagall however, looked unconvinced. She didn't say anything more though as she gave the password to the Gargoyle and then ushered Harry onto the stairs.

When they reached the door, McGonagall pushed it open and stepped into the Headmaster's office. Snape was waiting for them. McGonagall marched up to Snape, a look of determination on her face. "I hope you are treating Harry well," she snapped at the Potions Master, who raised an eyebrow at her rather imperious tone.

Then he glanced at Harry. "Has he suggested otherwise?" he asked the Deputy Headmistress icily.

"I didn't!" Harry exclaimed from over by the heavy door, wanting to end that theory immediately.

McGonagall paid no attention to Harry. "You know as well as I do, Severus Snape, that your behavior toward Harry has been abominable over the past five years. I cannot believe that even certain revelations could change that so easily."

His father's face had gone ghostly pale and Harry felt sick.

"Professor, please don't," Harry pleaded, his voice strained, but his Head of House cut him off, still glaring at Snape.

"You will do well to remember that I am still Harry's Head of House and I will not tolerate any more of your mistreatment of the boy." McGonagall's voice was very cold. "Especially as Albus is not here to undermine my efforts in that regard," she added. It was silent in the room, as her threat hung ominously over the trio.

His eyes were chips of black ice as Snape replied in a dangerously low voice, "And, while you have been his Head of House, Harry has been in almost constant danger. You failed as soundly in your responsibilities as I have in mine. And, you, Minerva, will keep in mind that as Harry's father, my authority supersedes yours."

"Your authority?" McGonagall sputtered, and Harry sucked in a breath as he watched the two Professors staring each other down.

"Yes, my authority, Minerva. And I will not tolerate any more of your scurrilous accusations that I am mistreating my son in any way."

McGonagall's face betrayed her surprise and then she narrowed her eyes very slightly as she assessed Harry's father. "As long as you give me no reason to make such accusations," she agreed finally, her voice like steel.

After a beat, Snape inclined his head. "There will be no reason for concern," he assured her stiffly.

Apparently not completely satisfied, McGonagall turned to Harry. "You know where to find me, should you need me."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Erm...yes, ma'am," he murmured, avoiding eye contact with both of the adults.

McGonagall left swiftly. Harry didn't know if she'd looked again at Snape as he was staring firmly at Fawkes' empty perch. He heard the door close behind her, and only then did Harry chance a glance up at his father.

Snape was staring at him, his face without expression. Harry wanted to say something to erase McGonagall's cruel words. But even as harsh as they had been, it didn't change their truthfulness. But the years of hurt had already been acknowledged and Snape had even apologized, albeit in the privacy of their minds. Harry was far from over all that had passed between them, but neither was he going to purposely cause his father pain by re-hashing it.

"I didn't say anything," was all Harry could think to say, and even he could hear how pathetic that sounded.

"Her point is valid, nonetheless," Snape replied quietly, holding Harry's gaze.

Harry shrugged, keeping his tone studiously light. "So was yours," he reasoned. "McGonagall wouldn't exactly win the Head of House award," he quipped with a forced smile.

"She has had little support." Harry felt a rush of confusion. Why was his father defending McGonagall? "You should not dismiss her so easily," Snape continued at Harry's quizzical look, even though Snape shouldn't have been able to know what Harry had been thinking.

He stared at his father. The man certainly was an enigma. Was he actually telling him to continue to rely on another adult? Well, it was just McGonagall. Harry doubted he'd get the same advice regarding Remus. As Snape was still gazing at him, Harry nodded, letting his father know he'd heard and understood.

"Harry," his father began softly, his eyes intent, but Harry shook his head hurriedly, not wanting to continue this conversation as he was beginning to feel as though the walls were pressing in on him.

"I have a lot of homework," he told his father. "We should probably get started," he suggested, beginning toward the Floo.

"We will practice here tonight," Snape told him, his voice sounding somewhat normal again. Harry turned back to his father.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"The Headmaster will be coming later. I need to speak with him briefly." Harry perked up at this bit of news.

"Is Remus coming too?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No."

Trying to hide his disappointment, Harry only nodded. And then he prepared himself for his father's testing.

"Ready," he said.

Snape nodded and they began. The flames seemed thinner, sparser than Harry remembered from their last lesson, but as it had been a week since they'd last practiced, Harry couldn't be sure. He turned his attention to strengthening his own shields as the flames began to lick closer to his storm.

Instinctively, Harry guided his storm to push against the fire inside his mind and as he did, he felt their unusual weakness. They felt almost without substance and Harry shoved toward them. The flames flickered briefly, and Harry saw Malfoy, sitting with Snape in the Potions Classroom.

"Potter hates me," the blonde boy was saying angrily.

And Snape was telling him, "Then you'd best find a way to remedy that."

With a great roar of his flames, Snape forced the scene back down into his own mind. With a mighty heave from the flames, Harry was back in Dumbledore's office, breathing heavily as he stared at his father.

"You've been trying to force Malfoy to be nice to me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I would hardly use the term 'force'," his father said vaguely as he steadied his own breathing.

"Well, I would," Harry argued after he'd taken a few slow breaths. "We've hated each other for years," he exclaimed.

"Yes," Snape said, gazing at Harry with a strange expression. "Much as James and I did."

Well at least now Harry understood the expression. He cocked a challenging brow at his father though and asked sarcastically, "What, you want me father Pansy's baby and then conceal it from everybody except Malfoy?" He waited for the rebuke, but Snape surprised him yet again.

He narrowed his eyes. "I would not suggest a bond between you and Ms. Parkinson, no. I do not believe your Ms. Weasley would approve, as it seems you are far more likely to father a litter of Weasleys than Parkinsons," he said smoothly.

Harry's face burned scarlet. Before he could stammer out a response, Snape said coolly, "Which is another topic we will need to discuss, rather soon I should think."

Merlin...

If Snape was trying to tell him that he wanted to talk about sex with him...well, Harry would just head straight to Voldemort and his entire army of murderous Death Eaters right now. Too embarrassed to even attempt a response, Harry just stared at his father, his mind going over every possible interaction Snape might have seen between him and Ginny, if the man did indeed have some sort of Surveillance Charm.

Bloody Hell.

"Raise your shields," Snape commanded, swiftly changing the subject, but as Harry was quickly becoming used to his father's abrupt mannerisms, he obeyed. He forced all thoughts of Ginny deep below his shields, testing the storm vigorously after his thoughts were safely buried.

Snape's efforts were relentless; his flames raged mercilessly against Harry's dark storm. But Harry's shield had grown stronger with each session and as he was practicing daily this time around, his father's shields were beginning to be tested as well. Harry was no longer just a student of Occlumency. His Dementor Storm was quickly becoming a shield to rival Snape's.

As Snape broke off contact with Harry's mind after a particularly long struggle, and Harry watched his father working to get his breathing back under control, he couldn't help but feel a feel a bit smug. Soon enough, even Voldemort would not be able to get through his shields.

Snape noticed Harry's look and informed him condescendingly, "Your overconfidence will only undermine your efforts."

Harry frowned. "I'm not overconfident," he objected.

"Were you not just thinking how easily you will best the Dark Lord?"

"Not exactly," Harry hedged.

Without warning, Snape raised his wand. "Defend yourself!" he hissed and Harry scrambled to erect his shields, only just managing before his father's flames could overtake his storm.

Damn you, Harry raged silently and he could have sworn he could sense the vibration of laughter from the flames, taunting him with gentle flicks against his gathered cloud.

Show me what you can do then, Harry, the flames called to him.

Shoring up his hasty shields, Harry fought. He fought for control of his memories, battling as though it really was Voldemort this time, as if it really counted. And it did, in a way; Harry was determined to show his father he was strong enough.

Storm and flame raged, clashing mightily, each passing minute bringing weakness and then strength again to one side or the other. But there was no acrimony in this war, no real anger. Not anymore. This was pure skill, two minds pitted against one another in common combat, each one hoping that Harry would be victor.

But that wouldn't be the case this time. Harry, growing weaker as they dueled, finally succumbed. His cloud ripped soundlessly, though not enough to bring up Harry's deeply buried memories. Harry slammed back to the present.

"Damn you," he gasped as he stumbled back, out loud this time, though there was no heat in the words. His father's eyes glinted in quick amusement.

"As it was you who was consumed in flames, I believe you are the one who is damned," he returned easily. Harry smirked at his father, who raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Well done," he congratulated him sincerely, and Harry's insides glowed.

"Thanks," he said happily, pleased at the unexpected compliment. "Should we try it again?" he asked eagerly, but Snape shook his head.

"That will be enough for tonight. You should not overtax yourself."

"You just don't want to go out on a loss," Harry accused with a grin.

His raised his eyebrow again. "I suspect one day soon, I will...however until that time, it may be in your best interest to bury your more deceitful exploits further beneath your shields."

And with that simple suggestion, Harry's warm glow disappeared. He fumbled for a reply, knowing exactly what Snape was referring to. Finding no suitable response, he could only shrug.

"Clever however, asking Ms. Granger for a Silencing Spell," Snape mocked as he peered at Harry through hooded eyes.

"If you're going to yell at me about everything you find while we're practicing, we might as well just stop now," Harry suggested, refusing to rise to his father's jibe.

"You would prefer the Dark Lord to find your mind?" Snape asked, as though he really was interested in the answer.

"No, but I don't want you browsing around in there either," Harry pointed out, to which his father favored him with a cool look.

"Perhaps you should simply stop doing things I would not approve of," he advised prudently.

"Well, that's about as likely as you taking points from Slytherin," Harry retorted.

"Then you will need to ensure I do not break through again," Snape said simply, his non-response an acquiescence of the impossibility of Harry's points scenario. Harry rolled his eyes. Everything was so black and white with Snape. "But as I do know about your egregious lack of judgment," his father continued, "I see no reason why you should not face the consequences."

Harry looked up warily at Snape, having expected this.

"A detention I think," his father decided, and Harry was almost sure the man was smirking, as he continued, "...with Filch. I'm sure he can find some toilets that need cleaning."

"I'm not cleaning toilets," Harry protested, finally allowing his ire to show. "Not for that!"

"Not for lying? Or not for your disobedience?" Snape inquired, with his old sneer back in place.

Disobedience. The word sounded very strange coming from Snape's lips, Harry decided as he glared. "I didn't exactly lie and you didn't really tell me not to tell them...only that you expected me not to." He figured it couldn't hurt to rationalize a bit.

"My intent was clear," his father growled, his eyes widening slightly at Harry's audacity.

"No it wasn't," Harry tried to deny, which only made Snape's face darken further. Before he could respond, Dumbledore's Floo roared to life. Harry turned toward the fireplace, relieved at the Headmaster's timely interruption.

And then Harry stopped breathing. It seemed his father had been wrong. Because there was Remus, lying bloodied and absolutely unmoving, in Dumbledore's arms.