Harry kept his word, and did study most of that evening.

He just wanted to be left alone, he convinced himself. For that to happen he had to keep his grades up, act normal, not let his friends or his teachers know what he was thinking.

He played Wizard Chess with Ron that night, let Hermione check his History homework, and attached a friendly note for Lupin to his essay on ghouls. The following day he put all his efforts into early-morning Quidditch practice.

Maybe he was on to something. When he focused on acting as if nothing was wrong, he could almost forget all the things that were.

He was having the best day in two weeks, until Potions. It was impossible to pretend that nothing was wrong while listening to the reason for everything being wrong yelling at his friends.

Potions ended. Harry gathered up his things and was about to leave the classroom with Ron and Hermione.

"One moment, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up to see Snape standing on the other side of the room, a very cold look on his face.

Ron and Hermione gave Harry a questioning glance as he put his book bag down. He attempted an encouraging smile but his face felt frozen.

He wasn't looking forward to whatever Snape was going to say to him. Most likely Dumbledore had once again interfered. Harry wished for the hundredth time that Dumbledore, as well as everyone else, would just stay out of it.

The classroom emptied, and Harry was left alone with Snape.

Snape waited until the last of the footsteps died down in the corridor outside, crossed the room and shut the classroom door.

"I heard some interesting things, Mr. Potter," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Can't eat? Can't sleep? Falling behind in your classes?"

"Dumbledore is quite worried," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "And he came to me. Not to Lupin, whose fault it is. To me." A very ugly look crossed Snape's face. "Can you explain that?"

Harry shook his head. He wished desperately that Dumbledore hadn't dragged Snape into this.

"Is this where I'm expected to make a. . . paternal. . . speech?" Snape's lip curled in a sneer. "Am I supposed to give you. . . fatherly. . . guidance?"

Harry shook his head again, but couldn't help thinking miserably of all the speeches and advice he had missed out on through not having parents. Even strict, unemotional parents had to be better than nothing.

The way Snape was looking at him, Harry wondered if his last thought had been written on his forehead.

"Are you thinking, Mr. Potter," he demanded, "that you would like me to begin spouting fatherly advice?"

"Is that an option?" Harry inquired sarcastically.

"Hardly!" Snape gave him another fierce look.

"Because you hate me?" Harry demanded.

"Because I'm not your father!" Snape looked as if he wanted to strangle Harry for making him repeat that yet again.

"Actually," Harry corrected him, "you are."

Snape stared at him in wordless fury.

Harry laughed a hollow, bitter laugh.

"Oh, I know it wasn't your fault," he continued. "I'm not holding you accountable. I'm just wondering how anyone could hold such a grudge. Against a child. For being born." He glared at Snape. "It wasn't my fault either."

Snape looked like he might disagree, but Harry went on.

"You treated me like dirt from the day I arrived at Hogwarts. And all this time, you knew." He paused for breath, his anger overwhelming him. "No matter what you did to me, I would have never thought you could treat your own child like that. But you did." His anger was mounting quickly, and his voice rose. "It doesn't matter how it happened. It couldn't be taken back once it did. You were my father, and you could have chosen to accept that instead of despising me."

"Clearly you are ignorant in these matters," Snape told him with a contemptuous sniff.

"Maybe I am, but at least I'm not denying that there's a part of you inside of me. That's what no amount of logic can reason away." He paused. "I tried."

Snape laughed harshly.

"Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Potter?" he asked, his lip curling in a sneer. "You think we have something in common?"

Harry didn't answer. He had thought it, but to say it out loud was beyond his ability.

"You are nothing like me!" Snape continued angrily. "I could see that from the day you were brought here! You should be grateful for your perfect parents."

"They're dead!" Harry yelled, losing his temper altogether. "Do you think I want just a memory?"

"You should!" Snape looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Even when they're dead they're the only fitting parents for you."

"I never expected my parents to be perfect." Harry frowned. "That's crazy. They weren't perfect. You said yourself that my mother almost joined the Death Eaters. And I forgave her."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "And would everyone else feel the same way?"

Would they? What would everyone think if they found out about his mother? Harry couldn't say for sure.

"You never said anything because of what people would think of her?" he asked, not understanding.

Snape snorted. "I never said anything because there was no point."

"No point?" Harry repeated.

"Use your head!" Snape snarled at him.

Harry tried to think. He just didn't understand, no matter how he looked at it.

Wait.

He looked at Snape suspiciously.

Death Eaters. Voldemort. Snape.

Somewhere deep in his mind it began to make sense, but only enough to frustrate him as he tried to get at the truth.

"I don't understand."

"No, of course not," Snape scoffed.

"Then tell me!"

Snape hesitated. Harry could see that he was about to say no, to keep the truth from him.

"Please!" he cried, jumping up and taking a few steps toward Snape, who took as many steps back to keep the distance between them.

"What do you think I could have done, after you were born?" Snape asked him. "Just tell me that."

Harry understood.

"But after they died. . ." he tried again.

"What about it?"

"You could have. . ." but then he realized, Snape couldn't have. In the time following Voldemort's fall, the Death Eaters were slowly rounded up by the Ministry. Snape's own status was still uncertain then.

Snape watched him work it out, and waited.

"But after. . ." Harry struggled to find the illusive words that would make everything make sense.

Snape shook his head.

"Why not!" Harry demanded.

"You don't seem to realize what the world was like. All anyone could talk about was The Boy Who Lived," Snape sneered as he said the words, "and the parents who had sacrificed themselves for him."

"So you never thought of claiming me?"

"What gives you the idea that I ever wanted to claim you?"

"Because I was yours!"

"You are still convinced that means something?" Snape mocked.

Harry didn't answer, afraid that his voice would shake. Because it did mean something, he realized. Maybe not to Snape, but it meant something to him. A lump rose in his throat, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep it still.

"Alright," Snape sighed in frustration. "Alright. I could have been your father once. Maybe. But the time for that passed. It was better to let you have the parents you were meant to have."

There was a silence while both regarded each other.

"What about. . . now?" Harry asked, his voice really shaking this time.

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but didn't, because at that moment the door opened and Dumbledore walked in. Harry could have howled in frustration.

"Am I interrupting?" Dumbledore asked as he peered closely at their faces, Snape's a stony mask, Harry's pale and wide-eyed. "Dinner was over a quarter hour ago."

"No," Snape began to gather up the papers on his desk. "Mr. Potter was just leaving."

"I wasn't!" Harry cried, turning to Dumbledore. "He just said that he would have claimed me if. . ."

"Don't put words in my mouth!" Snape interrupted indignantly. "I said nothing of the sort!"

They glared at each other as Dumbledore tried to make sense of them both.

"Fine! Fine, just keep denying it!" Harry pushed past Dumbledore, needing to get away. His book bag lay abandoned in the isle next to his desk. He stomped down the corridor, the floor in front of him blurring through the hot tears that had finally sprung to his eyes.