Harry glared at his potion. He would not look up. He would not give the man the satisfaction.

Whatever foolish part of him had believed that things would somehow be better after the wedding had gone and died a painful death already, and now there was only bitter resentment left. Yes, his professor and new stepfather still treated him with all the loathing and prejudice that he had previously.

Except, of course, when his mum was in the room. Just like Harry. When Lily was watching them, she saw the two of them bonding. Not quite warm and friendly, but cordial and cautious. Harry even managed the occasional smile for his hated Potions professor, just to put his mother's heart at ease. He didn't need her worrying or second-guessing her choice to marry the man.

Because for all his other faults, Severus Snape did make Lily Potter (now Potter-Snape) happy. And Harry wanted his mother to be happy more than anything in the world.

So he put on a marvelous show with the man anytime they breakfasted together, or had a 'family day', or were in the general vicinity of each other under Lily's observation.

Snape was still awful in class, and very conspicuous about it. He had a pass, after all. He was a spy. He had to maintain his cover, and his marriage to Lily was a complete secret excepting a select few. So Harry could not possibly complain to his mother of ill treatment (not that he would, because it would cause tension for all of them, and general misery).

His Uncle Remus was also a non-starter. Since his godfather had been offered the position after two abnormally disastrous years in a row—first Quirrellmort, the inhuman abomination who'd tried to murder Harry, and then Lockhart, the pompous, incompetent fraud who'd tried to Obliviate Harry—Remus had managed to avoid Snape's ire by staying out of the man's way and, in all instances where such avoidance was impossible, maintaining a cool civility. Harry knew just how poorly his father and friends had treated Snape in school, courtesy of Lily, who had, on more than one occasion, threatened to beat the Potter genes right out of Harry if he so much as hinted at such despicable tendencies.

And so Harry understood Remus' delicate position, and the reasons he was predisposed to see only the best in Snape as a way of compensating for his complicity in James Potter's pranks and bullying. Too, Harry knew that even if Remus believed Harry's accusations, the man would only go straight to Lily and urge her to cut all ties to the man. And Harry could not have that.

So Harry would suffer in silence. It was only two classes a week.

But lately Snape had been particularly vicious. It was as if he were testing the limits of Harry's commitment to his silence. The professor had taken to deriding and insulting his stepson at every turn, almost sabotaging his class work himself. And Harry was close to a breaking point.

His potion was nearing a critical stage. It was one of the more complex brews they'd tackled in his third year, a Solution of Clarity, and so far his was coming along well. He'd taken to studying extra for this class just to mitigate all the ill effects of having to put up with Snape, so he knew the instructions fairly well, as well as the precautionary tips and correctional methods highlighted in his text.

Taking a calming breath, Harry began adding his pine needles, one at a time, watching with bated breath as his pale green solution began to darken gradually. A few more, he told himself, and it would be the correct shade, a forest green. One more... and there it was. He let out a heavy breath and picked up his stirrer, knowing he could waste no time. Letting it settle now would ruin it.

He began working the slow clockwise figure eights that the text recommended, taking care that his strokes were even and smooth. He would get this. He would turn in a perfect assignment today, and there would be nothing that Snape could do.

"Potter."

Harry winced. Setting his jaw and continuing his stirring, he called, "Yes, Professor?"

"Come see me at my desk."

Harry felt his blood start to thrum angrily in his veins. No. He could not do this, not now. Through gritted teeth, he bit out, "I need to tend my potion, Professor-"

"Longbottom will watch it for you."

Harry chanced a glance up, only to find Snape sneering at him triumphantly from behind a stack of papers. His eyes flickered over to Neville, who was only barely managing his own cauldron. He already looked flustered and nervous.

"Maybe Hermione-"

"Miss Granger will tend to her own cauldron, not attempt to salvage yours, Potter. Up here. Now."

Harry sighed. He knew there was no point in arguing. He would just lose points or earn more detentions. He extracted his stirring rod, set it down carefully, and made his way to the front of the room, feeling like a prisoner reporting for sentencing.

"You needed something, sir?" Harry ground out, keeping his eyes locked on the corner of the man's desk so he couldn't be accused of glaring.

"Eyes up here, Potter."

Harry sighed and dragged his gaze up to the hateful man. And waited.

Snape seemed to be taking his sweet time. He rifled through the stack of papers, flipping them over fastidiously so that they remained neat and perfectly aligned.

Harry lost patience quickly. "Did you need something, or can I get back to my potion? Sir?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your tone," Snape announced, a vindictive little smile playing about his lips. "Patience is a virtue, and it would behoove you to exhibit some. Especially with me."

Harry forced himself to draw another calming breath. You can't win this fight, he reminded himself. No sense in trying. Take the path of least resistance. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Inadequate," Snape murmured. "Ah, here it is." He withdrew the essay Harry had turned in the previous week. "Like this, as it is blatantly full of plagiarism."

Harry could feel his nails digging into his palms. "I wrote that myself, sir. I did the research myself. If you have evidence that I didn't, though, maybe we could discuss it after class-"

"We will discuss it now," Snape cut him off coolly. "Hard as it may be for you to comprehend, my time is valuable, and I do have obligations apart from chastising you for academic dishonesty. So, would you care to explain why your abysmal understanding of potions has suddenly and miraculously improved by leaps and bounds?"

Harry stared back at his professor as fiercely as he possibly could. "I decided to make an effort, sir, since my grades have been so bad recently. I spent a lot of time on that assignment and went through a lot of drafts. I know that if I want a decent mark, I'll have to put in a lot more effort for the rest of the term, since my practicals have been so bad."

"Hm." Snape sounded unconvinced. "I will look into the matter and let you know my verdict. You may return to your station."

Harry was fuming. As if it wasn't enough to have the man purposefully tripping him up in class, now he had to accuse him of cheating! In front of the whole class!

Neville caught Harry's eye as he returned to his bench. The boy looked positively mournful. "I tried to watch it, Harry, really, I did, but..."

Harry peered into his cauldron. What he found was burbling black sludge, completely unsalvageable. He let loose a low growl of frustration, fighting the urge to tip the whole thing over and dump it to the ground.

Hermione and Ron cast him furtive sympathetic glances, but they didn't dare try to speak. They'd learned over the last two weeks that trying to comfort Harry would only lead to a tongue-lashing from Snape and points from Gryffindor. They could commiserate after class.

Harry forced a few more deep breaths. If he had to deal with this for much longer, he was going to have to take up meditation. Hopefully Snape would eventually mellow out and go back to his run-of-the-mill nastiness. That, at least, Harry could brush off.

At last, Harry had calmed enough to draw his wand and mutter a banishing spell over the contents of his cauldron. There was no use in even trying to turn it in. That sludge was absolutely worthless, likely toxic. Another zero, he thought.

Hermione swept him into a hug after class, once they'd cleared the hallway outside the potions classroom.

"Oh, he's just awful," she murmured into Harry's shoulder. "I saw how careful you were being today, Harry. I even tried to help Neville, but I was afraid to be too obvious about it... and to call your work plagiarism! The nerve! He has nothing to base that on, and I know that Dumbledore will see reason. Snape can't do anything about it on his own, you know, it's in the school charter. Serious charges like that have to be investigated by the Headmaster and the student's Head of House..."

"S'alright, Hermione," Harry reassured her. "I know it'll be fine. He's just being a git about it. It was just an excuse to get me away from my potion so I'd mess it up."

"But detention too, for failing the assignment," Ron groaned. "That's just evil. Harry, you have to say something to your mum. She's been duped-"

"No," Harry said firmly, pulling away from Hermione so that he could level a glare at Ron. "She's not. Mum's too smart for that. And... and he's good to her. I see it. It's like he's a different person with her. He makes her happy, and that's all that matters. I... I don't want it to be like it was when I was little, before they got over their differences. I told you that. She was miserable. If this is what I have to put up with... well, it's a small price."

"But you shouldn't have to put up with it!" Hermione cried. "He's the adult, and he's acting like a-a-"

"Total and complete jerk-off arsehole," Ron stated matter-of-factly. "Really, mate, you can't go through life letting the man whack you around like a Bludger. You'll go barmy."

Harry sighed. "He'll calm down. I mean, it has to be exhausting, being this hateful. Look, let's just forget about it all, okay? I don't really want to talk about it."

"We have a free period now," Ron pointed out. "Want to go flying, blow off some steam?"

Harry shook his head. "Can't. I have too much homework, and if I'm going to be in detention all night tonight..." He let loose a heavy sigh and turned to Hermione, who was looking at him intently, her eyes filled with concern. "Library?"

She nodded, her lips pursing into a little frown. "Maybe you could talk to Dumbledore," she suggested. "He could speak with Snape without involving your mother at all-"

"No," Harry said, with an air of finality. "Dumbledore... he wouldn't understand. He thinks this whole situation with Snape is as much my fault as Snape's, and I'm not about to get into that argument with him again. Okay?"

Hermione sighed. "Okay, but if you just explained to Professor Dumbledore-"

"I said no," Harry snapped, a little too forcefully.

Hermione took a step back, startled. "All right," she agreed quietly. "Do you have your books?"

Harry nodded. "Ron? You going to join us?"

"Nah," Ron mumbled. "You guys have fun. I'm, er... I'm going to go hang out in the Tower for a bit."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you're already behind in every class. And I'm not helping you cram for your exams this year, Ronald! If you can't be responsible-"

"Fine," Ron hissed, "I'll go suffer in the library alongside you too. Happy?"

"Yes," Hermione sniffed primly, before her face split into a triumphant grin.

Harry just shook his head.

XXXXX

"What's that?"

Harry glanced up to where Ron was pointing and saw a tiny paper boat drifting along, rocking in some air current.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, poking her head up from her Transfiguration text. "What a lovely charm! I wonder who..."

The rest of her question died as the boat drifted down to Harry, settling into the crook between the pages of his own open book. The delicate little thing immediately unfolded, revealing a short note.

Fawn,

It's a lovely afternoon and I know you don't have another class after Sev's. Maybe you'd like to join me for a walk? I'll be reading down by the lake in my favorite spot.

Love,

Mum

Harry smoothed a hand lovingly over the note. He desperately wanted to rush out there right then and sob to her all about how awful his afternoon had been. He knew that she would tuck him against her shoulder and run a gentle hand over his head, and murmur to him that it would be all right.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to her. She loved Snape, and complaining about him would just ruin the already-delicate relationship they had. There were enough old wounds between them; she didn't need to deal with any new wounds.

Still, he couldn't bear to completely ignore the invitation, especially since she was so rarely free to spend such time with him. When she wasn't working at the Ministry, she was often absorbed in her own research during the school year. It would be stupid to let this opportunity pass him by.

"On my way, mum," he murmured, knowing that the parchment was clever enough to report back his answer. He watched with a soft smile as the ink of the message bled together to the center, reforming into a sketch of a forest with a doe in the clearing. The doe dipped her head at Harry before bounding off through the trees.

Hermione, who had been admiring the message over his shoulder, murmured in appreciation. "Your mother is so gifted."

Harry smiled at Hermione fondly, knowing how well his friend got on with his mum. It hadn't surprised him in the least; they were both extremely clever, extremely talented Muggleborn witches. Sometimes Harry was certain that his mum looked on her more as a little sister than his friend.

"Yeah. She's brilliant. Anyway, I better go before she thinks that Peeves carried me off."

Ron snorted. "You drag me to the library, then you ditch me here after an hour? Some friend-"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs. "Quit whining. You've just been sitting there doodling snitches anyway, not actually working."

"Don't leave me with her," Ron pleaded jokingly. "She'll make me work."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, mum's a tyrant. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Good luck!"

"Shh," Madam Pince hissed at him.

Harry smiled sheepishly at her before scooping his books into his bag and dashing off.

Harry made it down to the lake in record time, mostly because his agitation with Snape manifested as an excess of energy. He barely heard the taunts Malfoy yelled after him when they crossed paths in the second floor corridor, and was gone before Filch, puffing after him, could tell him off for not walking.

Harry immediately spied his mother's familiar bright red hair, made all the more obvious in the abundant September sunshine. She spotted him too and waved exuberantly. He forced a cheery smile onto his face as he made his way across the grounds toward her.

"I think you're going to have to teach Hermione some of your tricks with your messages," Harry huffed when he finally reached her. "She was pretty blown away by the boat."

His mother laughed, the sound sparkling and uplifting, as she pulled her son into a close hug. "I don't know about that. Those spells are jealously guarded secrets... hmm, but I suppose I could make an exception." Lily kissed his temple before letting him go to look him over. "How were classes today?"

Harry fought the sour look that started to overtake his face. "Fine," he lied. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Binns set a new record for putting students to sleep, I think."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Harry," she scolded him. "What happened?"

Harry sighed internally. He was going to have to tell her something. She was too perceptive, and he knew that she wasn't about to let this drop. Well, he thought, he would keep it as close to actual events as possible, and just do some creative editing. Maybe he could vent a little of his frustration without actually throwing Snape off the broom.

"I messed up real bad in potions today."

Lily's green eyes turned sympathetic. "Let's take a walk, hm? And you can tell me all about it."

Harry found himself trailing beside his mother as they set off in no direction in particular. "It was my fault," he lied, choosing to pronounce "all Snape's" as "my". This was likely the best tactic, the only way he could tell the events so that his mother would believe him. He would still viciously blame Snape for everything with his inflections, but he would hide behind his words, and she would think all his anger was directed toward himself.

And then she would give him some advice and promise to nudge "Sev" in the right direction, and that would be that.

"I wasn't paying attention in the last stage, and I didn't stir enough... I ended up with swamp goop that I didn't even bother to turn in."

Lily sighed in disappointment. "Another zero, huh?"

Harry blushed and bit his tongue to keep himself from retorting. He knew she wasn't happy with his current potions grade. And he was doing everything in his power to fix that, especially since that conversation so often diverged into the "I respect Sev so much" territory. And Harry didn't think he could stand to hear how great Snape was and how much Harry could learn from him if he would just make an effort, not today.

"Yeah. I was trying so hard to get it perfect and it just got away from me in the last few minutes there." Harry huffed out the breath he'd been holding in. He felt like he could cry, and he knew his mother could sense those tears coming. He didn't want her to see that they were tears of anger, so he decided to spin out this lie just a little bit more. "P-Severus just looked so disappointed in me. I hate it. I hate it so much."

Lily hummed softly in sympathy. "Harry," she began slowly, "in class, does Sev..."

She seemed to be searching for words to put her thoughts delicately.

Harry panicked a little. Was his resentment so obvious? He wasn't ready for this. He'd been so damned careful. He couldn't lie through his teeth to his mother; she was way too smart for that to work.

"Look, he has to keep up a front for spying," Harry cut her off. "I know. Sometimes it's hard to remember that it's all an act, but he's been much better about it lately, you know? Like, when no one's looking, he'll wink at me to remind me, and sometimes he'll hold me after class for a minute or two to talk. So you don't have to worry about that. I'm not taking it so hard anymore."

Maybe he'd pushed it a little with that last bit, he thought. Especially claiming something so patently absurd, like Snape winking at him. Though he sometimes winked at Lily, didn't he? So maybe it wasn't quite ridiculous on its face...

Lily smiled, looking pleased at hearing that. "Oh, good. I asked him to try to reassure you a little bit. I'm so glad... but that's not what I wanted to ask, Harry. I want to know, are you nervous around Sev? It's completely understandable if you are, you know. I know how he can be. He's no teddy bear, and I hear he can be a right terror in class."

Harry swallowed thickly. God, his mother actually thought Snape would wink at him and voluntarily speak with him kindly. Well, better than the alternative, he reminded himself.

"Yeah," he agreed readily, glad for the excuse. Maybe he wouldn't be grounded for failing another potions assignment after all. Maybe his mum would excuse him. "Yeah, I think that's part of it."

"And I can imagine you want to impress him," Lily continued.

Harry fought a grin at those words. Yeah, that was true, he conceded, but not for the reasons his mum assumed. He wanted to be so good that Snape would have no room to criticize him. He just wanted to shut the man up for once. "I really do," he agreed softly.

"Hmm," Lily mused. "I think I see a simple solution to all of this. I'm sure Sev would love to give you private lessons-"

"No!" Harry cried, maybe a little too loudly.

Lily started, and stared at her son with wide green eyes. "Harry, it wouldn't be so bad-"

"I don't want special treatment," Harry protested, knowing that this was the best argument for almost anything. He touched his scar. "I already get enough because of this." That, and a subtle reference to his dead father and the man's incredible sacrifice... just enough guilt that he would likely get his way.

Lily pursed her lips. "Sev would be happy to take you on," she argued, but Harry could tell by her tone that he'd already convinced her to drop it. "You are his stepson now, after all."

"He's got enough on his plate," Harry insisted. "And I have to get over my fears, Mum, you know that. I'll do better, I promise."

She sighed unhappily. "As long as you pass, I suppose. But at least think about it. It would be such a good chance for you to get to know each other better, too..."

"I'll think about it," Harry promised, though more realistically he would be having nightmares about private lessons with his new stepfather.

They walked for a little longer, passing by Hagrid's hut and trailing along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Finally, they arrived back at the front steps leading into the Entrance Hall.

"This is where I leave you," his mother told him. "You'd best go get dinner, before everything's gone."

Harry smiled wearily. He knew he probably only had an hour or so anyway before his detention. "Are you coming back this weekend?" He inquired hopefully.

"You bet." Lily pecked him on the cheek,, then admonished him with false sternness, "Make sure you hit the books tonight. Especially your potions text."

"I will, Mum."

"Give my best to Ron and Hermione."

"I always do."

His mother waved to him, then headed toward the Apparition boundary beyond the front gates. She would go back to her job as an Unspeakable at the Ministry, and return to their empty little flat in London at night. Snape would likely visit her later on in the evening, popping through the Floo nonchalantly to pay her a visit. And that was where Harry stopped speculating, because thinking too much further on things tended to make his skin crawl.

Snape would likely taunt him with that prospect tonight, he thought angrily, casually mentioning how easy it was for him to see Lily while Harry was confined to the castle.

Harry pushed those thoughts away. No use in dwelling on things. He went to find Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

XXXXX

Severus leaned back in his chair, savoring the comfort of the plush leather against his tired body. It had been a long day, and he was ready to get through the stack of essays before him, then head over to see his new wife for a few sweet hours. He took a draft of his wine, his lips curling into a smile as he thought of Lily.

If only Potter's son wasn't part and parcel of this deal. He couldn't stand the child. He knew he had to restrain himself better with the boy, but it was too easy to be cruel, to pour out every ounce of vindictiveness he harbored for the late James Potter onto his new stepson.

He'd seen the boy's anger about to erupt earlier that day. He'd half expected things to devolve into a shouting match, truth be told. But Potter had somehow controlled himself. And a good thing too, Severus thought. It wasn't as if calling him to his desk had done any irreparable damage to the boy's brew. Potter was hardly better than Longbottom in the discipline, and his day's work was likely completely ruined long before the last twenty minutes of class. At least the boy had been wise enough not to attempt to turn anything in.

And he felt perfectly justified in discussing the boy's essay with him. After all, the quality was vastly improved from the drivel Potter usually turned in. Severus couldn't quite pinpoint how Potter had managed it, because it was consistent with his handwriting and style and he'd yet to come across a similar essay that could be used to prove cheating. But he didn't buy for a second Potter's story of working exceptionally hard on a mundane assignment about stirring techniques. Did the boy take him for a complete fool?

He would eventually have to ease up on the boy, he knew. Lily would not be happy if her precious son failed his class. That, and he was a little wary of what might happen if the boy complained to anyone, particularly the headmaster. He knew only too well that he was getting just a touch carried away with things. He could hardly justify all of his behavior over the last weeks. Yes, he would have to rein it in a little before Potter could go crying to the Headmaster with any real grievances.

At least he'd restrained himself during Potter's detention that night. He could tell Potter had an attitude problem what with the way the boy had gone slamming cauldrons around. He'd just growled at the boy and taken points rather than goading the boy any further, as he easily could have done.

At least Potter had had the sense to keep his responses short and respectful.

An hour and a half and two glasses of wine later, Severus finished scrawling out his final scathing assessment on Penelope Clearwater's essay on stasis potions. He rose from his chair, stretched his stiff limbs, and strolled merrily over to the floo. After he'd thrown a pinch in and called out the address of their London flat, he poked his head through.

Just as he'd expected, Lily was curled up on their sofa, already in her dressing gown for the night, curled up with a thick volume. She smiled down at him, her eyes crinkling in delight.

"May I step through?" Severus inquired.

Lily pretended to contemplate. "I don't know... it is an awfully late hour for gentleman callers."

"Ah, but what about husbands?" Severus pressed, his lips curving in a gentle smile of their own.

"Well, I suppose husbands are a special case. But you have to make us tea."

Severus pulled himself through into their cozy sitting room, brushing the ashes from himself. "I have to make the tea," he mused, already stepping over to the kitchen. "Sometimes I wonder if you married me just so you could force me to do menial labor..." He filled the kettle with a muttered Aguamenti, and heated it with a tap of his wand, before summoning two mugs-chipped, as Lily liked them-and the tin of tea.

Lily followed him, drawing her robe closed over her midsection. Severus noticed that her feet were bare, a preference from childhood that she'd never given up. He could never quite understand why. "That, and so that you could blatantly favor my son in your classes," Lily teased.

Severus snorted derisively, hoping that the reaction covered the loathing that was clenched in his gut. Why could he not have one peaceful evening with Lily without Potter brat cropping up in their conversations? "He desperately needs that favoritism."

Lily's face grew serious. "He told me what happened in class today."

Severus stiffened at those words. The brat had tattled? Well, he thought, he would bury the boy. After all, one flustered adolescent who was already failing the class, and who had done poorly in the subject for years, could hardly argue that Severus had purposely sabotaged him by calling him up to the front to speak for a few moments. The boy didn't have a leg to stand on. He would come across as petulant and bitter, and Severus could add to that image by casually letting slip how ill-mannered the boy had been during his detention that night.

"Ah. Well, I'm very interested to hear his version of events."

A small frown graced Lily's lips. "He didn't blame it all on his evil Potions Professor, Sev. In fact, he didn't want to talk about it at all. He was pretty embarrassed about the whole debacle."

Severus fought back a smile. Good, so he'd humiliated the little cretin. But whatever the boy had said, it had likely painted him as calloused and uncaring. Best to defend himself on that charge, he thought, with a little creative storytelling. "I'd planned to speak to him after class, but he fled before I had a chance."

Lily's expression predictably softened, and her eyes sparked with gratitude. "Thank you, Sev, for looking out for him."

Guilt twisted in Severus' gut. He ignored it.

"But I doubt it would have made a difference. Like I said, he was quite upset when I saw him this afternoon. He told me he just lost his concentration, and that was all it took for it to all go south." Here Lily paused to tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear. She glanced up through her lashes at Severus. "He told me he was nervous. And that he was afraid of disappointing you."

Severus forced back another snort. What crock of lies had Potter put together for her? The boy didn't give a shrivelfig for his opinion. No, he was just playing the pity card again, crying to his mummy that his Potions Professor terrified him so badly that he couldn't perform.

"Hmm. He didn't seem very cowed in class today."

Lily flashed him another smile. "Yes, he told me all about how much of an effort you've been making to put him at ease."

Severus strained to hear the sarcasm in her words, but there was none. They sounded completely genuine.

"I know you put on an impressive front for your duties and all… maybe too good of a front. But Harry told me all about how you've been keeping him behind after class and all to make sure he doesn't take any of it to heart."

Severus swallowed thickly, searching for words. Potter lying to excuse his failings, that Severus could understand. But this? By Merlin, the boy had described him as a model stepfather to Lily. What possible motivation did he have for that? Perhaps he thought that it would give him an advantage somehow. If so, the boy had an abysmal sense of strategy.

"I do what I can," Severus hedged.

Lily took up her mug and lifted it to her lips. Severus watched intently as those beautiful, perfect lips pressed to the rip of the mug, gracing the porcelain with their softness. "Mm, adequate," she pronounced, then tilted her head back toward the sitting room. "Shall we?"

Severus settled beside Lily on the couch. He smiled warmly down at her when she nestled against his side.

"I told him that you could take him on for private lessons."

Severus held back a groan, not only at the thought of that imposition—and, Merlin save him, more time with Potter—but because he was sick to death of this topic. He wanted to move on to something much more pleasant, like dying puppies or irreversible nerve damage caused by the Cruciatus curse. But he knew it wouldn't come across favorably if he outright refused.

Besides, if he was stuck tutoring Potter, he could make the boy suffer every bit as much as he did.

"Of course," Severus agreed immediately. "It would be no trouble, and it would hardly do to have my own stepson fail at potions…."

Lily's smile turned sad. "Of course not. I knew you wouldn't turn him down. But Harry refused—rather adamantly, too. He didn't want any special treatment. I should have known, of course…. Heavens, this is the boy who turned down early placement on the Gryffindor team because his classmates wouldn't get the same opportunity."

Severus arched a brow, a little taken aback. He was relieved that the boy did not want to suffer through private lessons, of course, but he couldn't imagine James Potter's son refusing anything to do with Quidditch. "I never heard of this."

Lily laughed softly. "I'd imagine you didn't. Minerva was quite miffed. She happened to see him during flying lessons, you see. The boy caught a classmate's Remembrall in a dead dive. She had him pegged for Seeker."

"As a first year," Severus muttered, shaking his head. He remembered that incident too well. He'd reprimanded Draco rather severely; he'd imagined that Potter had received the same treatment, not been rewarded for flouting the rules. Though it didn't surprise him in the least to find out that he'd been wrong.

"She even brought it up in our disciplinary hearing for the incident," Lily continued, her eyes crinkling fondly as she recounted the memory. "She begged me to try to persuade Harry, but the boy was set. Minerva promised him that she would arrange for special permission from the Headmaster, and that did it for Harry. Stubborn like his mother, I suppose. Then he complained that he only had so many detentions because Minerva was annoyed with him… though I think three with Filch was about right for blatantly disobeying a teacher, not to mention nearly breaking his neck." Lily sighed, and her smile faded. "I couldn't punish him today, Sev," she confessed suddenly. "I told him—I was very clear—that if he got another zero, he was grounded. But when I saw him today, he was so out of sorts, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm a terrible mother."

Severus felt that bundle of guilt twist inside him again. Why in the name of Merlin's wand had the boy not ratted on him? Why had he accepted all the blame for his failure that day if he knew he would be in such trouble for it? Not to protect his Potions Master. Maybe the boy simply realized that the truth would sound too much like he was trying to shirk responsibility. After all, his track record would certainly work against him.

Right now, though, his concern was comforting Lily, not trying to unravel the enigma that was Potter. So he snaked an arm around her and drew her close and whispered, in his gentlest voice, "You are not a terrible mother. Stop speaking such nonsense."

"He needs boundaries," she burst out. "He needs to know that there are lines he can't cross, and that I expect him to scrape out at least an Acceptable in all his subjects. And that's setting the bar low! I know this has been a difficult transition for him, especially having you at school with him, but that still shouldn't be an excuse. And for this to be in your class! He claims he's just intimidated by you, but if this is because he doesn't respect you… if that boy has been lying to me, I swear, he'll never see a blasted broomstick again!"

It would have been so easy in that moment to destroy Potter's life. His mother was already doubting him, and all it would take, really, would be a little nudge to convince her that the boy didn't respect him and was trying to take advantage of him. He had plenty of complaints, after all, and the boy was a mess when it came to potions, his latest essay aside. He could gently lead Lily into seeing the boy for the ungrateful brat he was….

But that was too wrong, too underhanded, even for him. The boy had defended him for some reason, and even told flattering lies about him. To what end Severus had no idea, but the fact of the matter remained. It would not be right to throw the boy to the dogs.

So instead, Severus began placatingly, "I'm certain it wasn't out of disrespect. As you said, the boy was nervous. And I'm sure that's the truth. For some reason, my students shy away from me, even though I know for a fact I have a very warm and sunny disposition."

The small smile returned to Lily's lips at those words. "And you're very patient," she teased him lightly.

"Always. Now, considering that, and the difficulty of adjusting to our situation, I can understand a little stumbling about. So, just this once, I think I'll propose to P-Harry that he come make up the assignment, and I'll suggest that he pay more attention in the future."

"Sev, he won't like the special treatment, I'm telling you—"

"This is not special treatment. In general the staff are permitted to make allowances for certain circumstances. I think emotional upheaval would fall under that category, yes?"

Lily snuggled closer to him. "You make sure you tell him that. And barring that, tell him that I will ground him if he's stupid enough to refuse this opportunity. All right?" She leaned up and planted a light kiss on his lips.

He kissed her back, much more firmly than the bare brush of her lips. He pressed into her, willing her to feel his love for her in his urgency. He drew back and gazed down at her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breaths against his side. "Very well," he murmured. "Now, can we please close all subjects relating to my professional life?"

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to discuss the essays you were grading tonight?"

"Not on your life." Severus kissed her again, and this time Lily clambered onto his lap. Merlin, it was like they were teenagers again.

The two cups of tea sat on the coffee table, abandoned, for the remainder of the evening.