Part 9:
Madame Pomphrey shook her head at the trio of males waiting for news in her office. "I'll let you know when she's awake. Now, go on. Get out," she shooed them out.
"Sir?"
Both men stopped instinctively, Albus turning to face Harry. Severus excused himself, knowing that he was not needed in this situation. Taking off at a brisk pace, he wanted to put as much distance as he could between them.
"I meant Professor Snape," Harry said sheepishly. "Why does he feel the need to constantly flee from me? I'm not carrying any contagious disease, am I?"
"That's the way he is, Harry. Run along. If he won't speak to you, be patient. It took your mother two years to start breaking through his harsh exterior," Albus counseled.
"Thanks," the Gryffindor dashed down the hall, intent on catching up with his professor.
"Oh, Harry? Go to the right, not the left."
For a split second, he debated the wisdom of going towards a dead ended hall but shrugged carelessly. With typical Gryffindor courage (others say recklessness), he plunged ahead and found himself near the main entrance of the dungeons.
Severus sighed, relieved to be away from the Infirmary and the infernal Potter boy. As he entered the cool interior of the lower levels, he allowed the darkness to soothe him. Let others have their sunlight, he'd take this underground haven any day.
Or may be not, he stared in disbelief at a familiar messy head, waiting in front of his office. "Oh, for Merlyn's sake," he muttered, glaring at him balefully.
Harry merely smiled at him, leaning back against the wall. To all appearances, he was quite confident. Inside, he was trembling and hoping that he wouldn't fall flat on his face. "Headmaster Dumbledore gave me permission to be here, Professor Snape."
Clenching his teeth, he opened his office door and walked in. Choosing to ignore when the current bane of his existence did the same, searching for something to do. Sitting down, he graded the huge pile of scrolls waiting on his desk.
Shrugging, the Gryffindor sat and pulled a book out of his bag. After he placed it on the only open space, he pulled out a scroll and pen, beginning to do his homework. Hermione would be so pleased with me, Harry thought, wondering just why he wasn't more upset by what happened earlier. Pushing his thoughts aside for examination later, he buried his head in work.
They spent an hour, then two, working. Severus on ignoring the other's presence and behavior. And Harry with the work that had piled up while he'd been doing other things.
'Who do you think will crack first?' Sirius asked curiously as they paused outside the door and looked in.
'Severus. He's only able to bury his curiosity and pride for so long.' Septina replied, leading him past the office and outside. 'Made your peace with Potter's father yet?'
'What business is it of yours?'
'Call it concern, Black. We have reached a point where I can be that, right?' There was the slightest sound of amusement in her voice.
The animagi was silent until they were walking by the forest. Coming to a stop by the lake, he returned to his human form, facing her. "Do you think you can bring yourself to call me Sirius? That is, if you mean what you say."
It was a definite challenge.
"Sirius," she tested the name, drawing it out slowly. "I suppose I can live with that."
"She can be taught," he quipped, sobering suddenly. "In answer to your question, no, I have not."
"Well, if continuing to blame yourself for something you had no control over continues to carry you down the path of maturity, keep it up." It was extremely flippant, but she too, sobered. "Sirius, it isn't your fault. You once asked if Lily was keeping him here. She isn't. You are."
"That's impossible," his voice was faint.
"No. It isn't. You have a great deal of love for James Potter, he was your best friend for years. It is the remorse inside, the pain you feel, that holds him to this world."
"I told him that," James spoke from their right. "He won't listen to anything I have to say."
"Smartest thing he's ever done," she muttered. "May be it's your approach. They only James Potter he ever knew consistently was the prankster. You two spent much of your formative years trying to outdo each other."
"That may be true, but we are best friends. Siri should know when I'm being honest," he came over to them, waiting beside her.
She snorted, "right. Forgive me for being oblivious but how? Has he ever seen you being serious?" she groaned, awaiting for the inevitable pun.
But James surprised her, his face contemplative. "I guess not. Even when Remus was exposed as a werewolf, I was flippant. Of course, I already knew about it because I was there, I had time to accept it."
"Jamie, am I really holding you here, away from your rest?" his voice trembled on the question.
James rested a hand on his shoulder, flooding him with comfort. "You are the only line holding onto me now, Siri, the others no longer hold me tangibly."
Septina felt it was time to leave them alone. Awkward had never been a word to describe her but it would surely apply now.
***
Narcissa and Bellatrix shared a glass of mulled wine, talking quietly of times past. "I am no less faithful now than when I first began, but I fear that our lord has changed his goals. He no longer seems to be in control of himself or his mind." She spoke now of the things of the present, gently urging her friend to think beyond the shadows that rested on her since Azkaban.
"He does not seem himself, I do agree with you. But, would you be the same if you had Potter's filthy blood and the flesh of that rat, Pettigrew, about you?" Bellatrix mused, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder and studying the icy blonde by her side. It was shocking to see the changes in her friend since the death of her beloved Lucius.
"You may be right, Bella. Still, something doesn't rest well with me."
Bella turned to her drink, "you are not thinking of leaving him, are you?"
Narcissa shook her head slightly, the cropped blonde hair barely moved. "Of course not, I would never do something so irresponsibly rash. There is no place for me but at my lord's side. But I am thinking of a contingency plan should that Potter whelp succeed. Again. Do be so kind as to recall what set him off in the first place. We do not know if he was successful in his attempts and the results will show soon. Or if we once more must suffer for our beliefs in this Dumbledore world."
"He will not fail this time, Narcissa."
"I wish that I could be so naïvely certain as you But your eyes have not seen all that has transpired, Bella. You have not seen that miscreant tear down walls that should have lasted. Even Dumbledore has not the power to match that child. Mark me, we will witness the dragon's rebirth."
Bella studied the flames, reflexively. "Dragon's rebirth, you say? Is that what the brat is?"
"It appears so," they sat in contemplative silence for a time. "What do you know of the dog that you kept from the Dark Lord?"
She did not bother to feign innocence, "Sirius Black. That black mongrel reminds me of Black."
"Are you so sure that he it not?"
"No and it frustrates me. So much knowledge is trapped in here," she gestured to her head, "no ability to reach even one tenth of it." Bella tossed back the drink, then went to search for something stronger in Lucius' personal stash.
"Is that why you chose to say nothing?" Narcissa watched her closely, ignoring the pain inside as Bella grabbed Lucius' favorite drink. In times past, Bellatrix and her husband had been well known for their drinking habits. She had never felt the need to stop it, both could handle their liquor. Besides, they never did any harm-to her or Draco.
"Yes. Besides, I would look like a fool. Blind or not, do you really see Septina Snape," spitting out the name, "would allow herself to be led in by him?"
"Do you really see him leading her in?"
"Oddly enough, I do. Black may have been a Gryffindor but he has quite a mean streak inside of him. Don't you recall many of his 'pranks'?" She sat back down, the bottle nestled in her side.
"I concede you the point. It does sound like something he would do," Narcissa nodded, declining anything more to drink. "I have a meeting with our 'glorious' Minister, a certain Cornelius Fudge in the morning."
"How goes things with the minister?" Bella snickered at the word, and they exchanged knowing smiles.
"Well. He is a besotted fool and I can't quite remember why we put him into power in the first place."
"Possibly because he is a fool," her comment was dry.
"There is that," she was silent. "Anyway, he is making no moves to stop the announcement of Voldemort's return. To do so after certain events so recently orchestrated by him would make him appear to be idiotic. But he won't be drawn into any plans-even tentative ones-to fight him. Hogwarts is on its own."
"But I've heard that we have precious few to aid us inside," it was a gentle reproach.
"My son is leading the opposition against us. I had thought to use that to our advantage. Bring him into closer bonds with me, then kill him once I had no further use for him." Her eyes flashed angrily, "but something interfered. I don't like it when things interfere with my designs."
"Something?"
Decisive nod, "yes. A something I have not felt since the days that Lily Potter graced us with her charming presence," she mocked.
"Lily Potter. She caused quite a stir when the Dark Lord found out about her-especially related to her pregnancy."
"Filthy mudblood, though Lucius once hinted that she wasn't." Her voice derided that idea.
"Sorry about your loss. Lucius was a great and terrible force to be reckoned with. He will be missed." Bella commented, reaching out to offer her comfort.
"Thank you," they sat in silence again, linked by their hands. It was a scene like this that gave truth to the illusion of Slytherin comradery. "Don't you have to leave?"
With a sigh, Bella nodded and rose, putting her glass on the side table. "We must do this again, Nar. Next time, we should invite Septina-sans that dog." Reluctantly, she placed the decanter by the glass, running her hand longingly over it.
"You know we can't hurt the Dark Lord's pet. She's worth more to him than the both of us combined," she warned, rising as well.
"Which is why we'll need her if we want to get out of this," Bella replied. "Think on it."
"I shall. Keep it," Narcissa pressed the bottle into her unresisting hands. "Lucius would've wanted you to have it. You always did share his taste in fine beverages."
"Thank you," Bella wrapped her robe around herself and flooed out.
Narcissa stood in the empty room, surrounded by memories of Lucius. Picking up the brandy, she left the room, intent on loosing herself in drink-minister notwithstanding.
***
"Potter! Why are you still here?" Severus snapped, finally losing patience with the boy.
"Questions, sir," he spoke mildly, watching his professor. "I believe that I once told you that our conversation was not far from over. Do you remember?"
"I remember," he answered after a long pause.
"Then why ask when you already knew the answer?"
"I would have thought, Potter, that you would already possess those answers after all the events that have transpired these past few weeks." Acid dripped from his words, a hard light in his eyes.
Harry's gaze never wavered, nor his conviction. "That may be true, did you hear me deny anything? But you must admit, that that was before I heard my mother propose to you. She wrote nothing of your great love story in her journal, sir. Nor has she spoke of it to me."
He waited half a beat, "or should I say, father? Knowing you, stepfather might be better. One must observe all the conventions to get by, don't you think?"
"How dare you!"
"No, how dare you leave my mother answerless, dad."
He sneered, "I refuse to be called that by anyone."
Harry smiled suddenly, "I am my mother's son. Do you really think that will work?"
"If you insist on going through this absurd charade of acceptance, I prefer the term 'pater'. Get out before you break curfew," he left the room, and Harry gapping after him, with a tiny smirk. After a moment, he poked his head around the door, studying the seeker sardonically. "not that that has ever stopped you before."
Harry rose, packing his things with mechanical motions, deep in thought. Professor Snape was, indeed, one of the most annoying and confusing people he'd had the chance to deal with-right after Albus Dumbledore.
"Watch it, Potter." An irritated voice snapped as they collided in the hall.
"Malfoy. A displeasure to be around you, as always," he retorted automatically.
"The day I want to please the golden god of Gryffindor, I'll leave Slytherin for I will no longer be worthy of the house," he drawled, moving away.
Harry watched him go, a twinge of guilt twisting his stomach. By the sparkle in Draco's eyes, his attempts to act as though nothing had changed were working. But it didn't matter. NO matter who or what a person had done to him, he hated kicking a wounded heart.
It reminded him too much of the Dursleys.
Hearing footsteps, he sped along the hall. Now was not the time to be caught after hours. Upon entering the common room, he looked for his friends.
"Oy, Harry. In here," Ron hissed from one of the back rooms.
Dropping his bag on the couch, he entered and flopped onto the empty bed. Hermione tsked such casualness but was quiet, returning to her reading.
"What did the Headmaster have to say when you told him what you'd found, Harry?" Ron eagerly asked.
"Nothing. That is," he quickly amended, giving Ron no more time than to give a squawk of protest, "I didn't have the chance to say anything. He was in a meeting with Professor Snape and a young woman who I didn't recognize. I barely missed Mr. Giles, you remember him, he subbed for Remus."
Hermione's ears perked up at this reference, "what happened, Harry?"
"I'm not quite sure," he briefly filled them in, leaving nothing out of the story.
"Revolting! How could anyone want to spend the rest of their life with that greasy git." Ron shuddered.
"Be nice, Ron. Professor Snape is not the same teacher we had," Hermione chided.
Ron made a face, turning to face Harry. "This Willow, is she really your mum?"
"It seems so, she feels so familiar." Harry was quiet, "and its not like Snape hasn't been acting like a parent to me since the moment I arrived."
"Still, he's just impossible. What if he made you act like him? Or change the way you look? Or drop the Potter from your name?"
"Valid questions, Ron. But he would have to go through mum to do that." Harry pointed out, "besides, it would be a way for me to escape all this 'boy-who-lived' crap."
"He's cracked, Hermione," Ron muttered, shock on his normally cheery face.
"Now, Ron, I think Harry's being very grown-up about it."
"To grown up, if you want my opinion," Ron retorted. "No offense, mate, but you are completely nutters."
Harry laughed, "thanks, Ron. The next time I need a psychological analysis from an unbiased source, I'll call you." He patted his head affectionately.
"Go ahead and laugh at me. But I bet you won't find it so funny when Snape's your father," he gloomily predicted.
"Thank you for your prediction, Professor Trewlaney." Harry quipped, "and I don't think I have to worry about that, Ron."
"Why not?" Skeptically.
"Professor Snape told me to call him 'pater'. Night, Ron."
Ron spluttered, chocked and turned to Hermione, "has the world gone utterly mad?"
"Not yet, Ron," she got to her feet, yawning. "Let's hope it never does. Good night, Ron."
"Night, Hermione," he was quiet, resolving to speak to Neville in the morning. After all, the boy seemed to know a lot about what was really going on inside of Snape. The idea of actually talking to the professor never crossed his mind. Fear of the potions master ran deep in him.
Madame Pomphrey shook her head at the trio of males waiting for news in her office. "I'll let you know when she's awake. Now, go on. Get out," she shooed them out.
"Sir?"
Both men stopped instinctively, Albus turning to face Harry. Severus excused himself, knowing that he was not needed in this situation. Taking off at a brisk pace, he wanted to put as much distance as he could between them.
"I meant Professor Snape," Harry said sheepishly. "Why does he feel the need to constantly flee from me? I'm not carrying any contagious disease, am I?"
"That's the way he is, Harry. Run along. If he won't speak to you, be patient. It took your mother two years to start breaking through his harsh exterior," Albus counseled.
"Thanks," the Gryffindor dashed down the hall, intent on catching up with his professor.
"Oh, Harry? Go to the right, not the left."
For a split second, he debated the wisdom of going towards a dead ended hall but shrugged carelessly. With typical Gryffindor courage (others say recklessness), he plunged ahead and found himself near the main entrance of the dungeons.
Severus sighed, relieved to be away from the Infirmary and the infernal Potter boy. As he entered the cool interior of the lower levels, he allowed the darkness to soothe him. Let others have their sunlight, he'd take this underground haven any day.
Or may be not, he stared in disbelief at a familiar messy head, waiting in front of his office. "Oh, for Merlyn's sake," he muttered, glaring at him balefully.
Harry merely smiled at him, leaning back against the wall. To all appearances, he was quite confident. Inside, he was trembling and hoping that he wouldn't fall flat on his face. "Headmaster Dumbledore gave me permission to be here, Professor Snape."
Clenching his teeth, he opened his office door and walked in. Choosing to ignore when the current bane of his existence did the same, searching for something to do. Sitting down, he graded the huge pile of scrolls waiting on his desk.
Shrugging, the Gryffindor sat and pulled a book out of his bag. After he placed it on the only open space, he pulled out a scroll and pen, beginning to do his homework. Hermione would be so pleased with me, Harry thought, wondering just why he wasn't more upset by what happened earlier. Pushing his thoughts aside for examination later, he buried his head in work.
They spent an hour, then two, working. Severus on ignoring the other's presence and behavior. And Harry with the work that had piled up while he'd been doing other things.
'Who do you think will crack first?' Sirius asked curiously as they paused outside the door and looked in.
'Severus. He's only able to bury his curiosity and pride for so long.' Septina replied, leading him past the office and outside. 'Made your peace with Potter's father yet?'
'What business is it of yours?'
'Call it concern, Black. We have reached a point where I can be that, right?' There was the slightest sound of amusement in her voice.
The animagi was silent until they were walking by the forest. Coming to a stop by the lake, he returned to his human form, facing her. "Do you think you can bring yourself to call me Sirius? That is, if you mean what you say."
It was a definite challenge.
"Sirius," she tested the name, drawing it out slowly. "I suppose I can live with that."
"She can be taught," he quipped, sobering suddenly. "In answer to your question, no, I have not."
"Well, if continuing to blame yourself for something you had no control over continues to carry you down the path of maturity, keep it up." It was extremely flippant, but she too, sobered. "Sirius, it isn't your fault. You once asked if Lily was keeping him here. She isn't. You are."
"That's impossible," his voice was faint.
"No. It isn't. You have a great deal of love for James Potter, he was your best friend for years. It is the remorse inside, the pain you feel, that holds him to this world."
"I told him that," James spoke from their right. "He won't listen to anything I have to say."
"Smartest thing he's ever done," she muttered. "May be it's your approach. They only James Potter he ever knew consistently was the prankster. You two spent much of your formative years trying to outdo each other."
"That may be true, but we are best friends. Siri should know when I'm being honest," he came over to them, waiting beside her.
She snorted, "right. Forgive me for being oblivious but how? Has he ever seen you being serious?" she groaned, awaiting for the inevitable pun.
But James surprised her, his face contemplative. "I guess not. Even when Remus was exposed as a werewolf, I was flippant. Of course, I already knew about it because I was there, I had time to accept it."
"Jamie, am I really holding you here, away from your rest?" his voice trembled on the question.
James rested a hand on his shoulder, flooding him with comfort. "You are the only line holding onto me now, Siri, the others no longer hold me tangibly."
Septina felt it was time to leave them alone. Awkward had never been a word to describe her but it would surely apply now.
***
Narcissa and Bellatrix shared a glass of mulled wine, talking quietly of times past. "I am no less faithful now than when I first began, but I fear that our lord has changed his goals. He no longer seems to be in control of himself or his mind." She spoke now of the things of the present, gently urging her friend to think beyond the shadows that rested on her since Azkaban.
"He does not seem himself, I do agree with you. But, would you be the same if you had Potter's filthy blood and the flesh of that rat, Pettigrew, about you?" Bellatrix mused, flipping her raven hair over her shoulder and studying the icy blonde by her side. It was shocking to see the changes in her friend since the death of her beloved Lucius.
"You may be right, Bella. Still, something doesn't rest well with me."
Bella turned to her drink, "you are not thinking of leaving him, are you?"
Narcissa shook her head slightly, the cropped blonde hair barely moved. "Of course not, I would never do something so irresponsibly rash. There is no place for me but at my lord's side. But I am thinking of a contingency plan should that Potter whelp succeed. Again. Do be so kind as to recall what set him off in the first place. We do not know if he was successful in his attempts and the results will show soon. Or if we once more must suffer for our beliefs in this Dumbledore world."
"He will not fail this time, Narcissa."
"I wish that I could be so naïvely certain as you But your eyes have not seen all that has transpired, Bella. You have not seen that miscreant tear down walls that should have lasted. Even Dumbledore has not the power to match that child. Mark me, we will witness the dragon's rebirth."
Bella studied the flames, reflexively. "Dragon's rebirth, you say? Is that what the brat is?"
"It appears so," they sat in contemplative silence for a time. "What do you know of the dog that you kept from the Dark Lord?"
She did not bother to feign innocence, "Sirius Black. That black mongrel reminds me of Black."
"Are you so sure that he it not?"
"No and it frustrates me. So much knowledge is trapped in here," she gestured to her head, "no ability to reach even one tenth of it." Bella tossed back the drink, then went to search for something stronger in Lucius' personal stash.
"Is that why you chose to say nothing?" Narcissa watched her closely, ignoring the pain inside as Bella grabbed Lucius' favorite drink. In times past, Bellatrix and her husband had been well known for their drinking habits. She had never felt the need to stop it, both could handle their liquor. Besides, they never did any harm-to her or Draco.
"Yes. Besides, I would look like a fool. Blind or not, do you really see Septina Snape," spitting out the name, "would allow herself to be led in by him?"
"Do you really see him leading her in?"
"Oddly enough, I do. Black may have been a Gryffindor but he has quite a mean streak inside of him. Don't you recall many of his 'pranks'?" She sat back down, the bottle nestled in her side.
"I concede you the point. It does sound like something he would do," Narcissa nodded, declining anything more to drink. "I have a meeting with our 'glorious' Minister, a certain Cornelius Fudge in the morning."
"How goes things with the minister?" Bella snickered at the word, and they exchanged knowing smiles.
"Well. He is a besotted fool and I can't quite remember why we put him into power in the first place."
"Possibly because he is a fool," her comment was dry.
"There is that," she was silent. "Anyway, he is making no moves to stop the announcement of Voldemort's return. To do so after certain events so recently orchestrated by him would make him appear to be idiotic. But he won't be drawn into any plans-even tentative ones-to fight him. Hogwarts is on its own."
"But I've heard that we have precious few to aid us inside," it was a gentle reproach.
"My son is leading the opposition against us. I had thought to use that to our advantage. Bring him into closer bonds with me, then kill him once I had no further use for him." Her eyes flashed angrily, "but something interfered. I don't like it when things interfere with my designs."
"Something?"
Decisive nod, "yes. A something I have not felt since the days that Lily Potter graced us with her charming presence," she mocked.
"Lily Potter. She caused quite a stir when the Dark Lord found out about her-especially related to her pregnancy."
"Filthy mudblood, though Lucius once hinted that she wasn't." Her voice derided that idea.
"Sorry about your loss. Lucius was a great and terrible force to be reckoned with. He will be missed." Bella commented, reaching out to offer her comfort.
"Thank you," they sat in silence again, linked by their hands. It was a scene like this that gave truth to the illusion of Slytherin comradery. "Don't you have to leave?"
With a sigh, Bella nodded and rose, putting her glass on the side table. "We must do this again, Nar. Next time, we should invite Septina-sans that dog." Reluctantly, she placed the decanter by the glass, running her hand longingly over it.
"You know we can't hurt the Dark Lord's pet. She's worth more to him than the both of us combined," she warned, rising as well.
"Which is why we'll need her if we want to get out of this," Bella replied. "Think on it."
"I shall. Keep it," Narcissa pressed the bottle into her unresisting hands. "Lucius would've wanted you to have it. You always did share his taste in fine beverages."
"Thank you," Bella wrapped her robe around herself and flooed out.
Narcissa stood in the empty room, surrounded by memories of Lucius. Picking up the brandy, she left the room, intent on loosing herself in drink-minister notwithstanding.
***
"Potter! Why are you still here?" Severus snapped, finally losing patience with the boy.
"Questions, sir," he spoke mildly, watching his professor. "I believe that I once told you that our conversation was not far from over. Do you remember?"
"I remember," he answered after a long pause.
"Then why ask when you already knew the answer?"
"I would have thought, Potter, that you would already possess those answers after all the events that have transpired these past few weeks." Acid dripped from his words, a hard light in his eyes.
Harry's gaze never wavered, nor his conviction. "That may be true, did you hear me deny anything? But you must admit, that that was before I heard my mother propose to you. She wrote nothing of your great love story in her journal, sir. Nor has she spoke of it to me."
He waited half a beat, "or should I say, father? Knowing you, stepfather might be better. One must observe all the conventions to get by, don't you think?"
"How dare you!"
"No, how dare you leave my mother answerless, dad."
He sneered, "I refuse to be called that by anyone."
Harry smiled suddenly, "I am my mother's son. Do you really think that will work?"
"If you insist on going through this absurd charade of acceptance, I prefer the term 'pater'. Get out before you break curfew," he left the room, and Harry gapping after him, with a tiny smirk. After a moment, he poked his head around the door, studying the seeker sardonically. "not that that has ever stopped you before."
Harry rose, packing his things with mechanical motions, deep in thought. Professor Snape was, indeed, one of the most annoying and confusing people he'd had the chance to deal with-right after Albus Dumbledore.
"Watch it, Potter." An irritated voice snapped as they collided in the hall.
"Malfoy. A displeasure to be around you, as always," he retorted automatically.
"The day I want to please the golden god of Gryffindor, I'll leave Slytherin for I will no longer be worthy of the house," he drawled, moving away.
Harry watched him go, a twinge of guilt twisting his stomach. By the sparkle in Draco's eyes, his attempts to act as though nothing had changed were working. But it didn't matter. NO matter who or what a person had done to him, he hated kicking a wounded heart.
It reminded him too much of the Dursleys.
Hearing footsteps, he sped along the hall. Now was not the time to be caught after hours. Upon entering the common room, he looked for his friends.
"Oy, Harry. In here," Ron hissed from one of the back rooms.
Dropping his bag on the couch, he entered and flopped onto the empty bed. Hermione tsked such casualness but was quiet, returning to her reading.
"What did the Headmaster have to say when you told him what you'd found, Harry?" Ron eagerly asked.
"Nothing. That is," he quickly amended, giving Ron no more time than to give a squawk of protest, "I didn't have the chance to say anything. He was in a meeting with Professor Snape and a young woman who I didn't recognize. I barely missed Mr. Giles, you remember him, he subbed for Remus."
Hermione's ears perked up at this reference, "what happened, Harry?"
"I'm not quite sure," he briefly filled them in, leaving nothing out of the story.
"Revolting! How could anyone want to spend the rest of their life with that greasy git." Ron shuddered.
"Be nice, Ron. Professor Snape is not the same teacher we had," Hermione chided.
Ron made a face, turning to face Harry. "This Willow, is she really your mum?"
"It seems so, she feels so familiar." Harry was quiet, "and its not like Snape hasn't been acting like a parent to me since the moment I arrived."
"Still, he's just impossible. What if he made you act like him? Or change the way you look? Or drop the Potter from your name?"
"Valid questions, Ron. But he would have to go through mum to do that." Harry pointed out, "besides, it would be a way for me to escape all this 'boy-who-lived' crap."
"He's cracked, Hermione," Ron muttered, shock on his normally cheery face.
"Now, Ron, I think Harry's being very grown-up about it."
"To grown up, if you want my opinion," Ron retorted. "No offense, mate, but you are completely nutters."
Harry laughed, "thanks, Ron. The next time I need a psychological analysis from an unbiased source, I'll call you." He patted his head affectionately.
"Go ahead and laugh at me. But I bet you won't find it so funny when Snape's your father," he gloomily predicted.
"Thank you for your prediction, Professor Trewlaney." Harry quipped, "and I don't think I have to worry about that, Ron."
"Why not?" Skeptically.
"Professor Snape told me to call him 'pater'. Night, Ron."
Ron spluttered, chocked and turned to Hermione, "has the world gone utterly mad?"
"Not yet, Ron," she got to her feet, yawning. "Let's hope it never does. Good night, Ron."
"Night, Hermione," he was quiet, resolving to speak to Neville in the morning. After all, the boy seemed to know a lot about what was really going on inside of Snape. The idea of actually talking to the professor never crossed his mind. Fear of the potions master ran deep in him.