Chapter Four

Grace's father.

Harry had never really given him much thought.

Whoever the man was, he was a deadbeat. Harry had never heard so much as a peep from him. His mum may as well have immaculately conceived his sister.

In fact, he would much prefer to believe that was the case.

He certainly didn't believe the rumours when Ron had come to him, earlier in the year, saying that Mr and Mrs Weasley were under the impression that it was his Uncle Remus. That everyone knew that it was Remus.

But that was impossible.

Pretty much every summer since Harry had started at Hogwarts his little sister would inundate him with made-up stories about what she and her non-existent father had been up to while he was gone. His mum had simply laughed it off and Remus just shrugged and told him that he'd had quite an imagination of his own when he was her age too. It was better to just humour her.

No way would their Uncle Remus not claim her as his own if he was the man she was talking about.

And Grace, well, why wouldn't she just refer to him as her dad when they were all together? He was already the only 'dad' figure either of them knew – now that Uncle Sirius was gone – and denying it was nonsensical unless his mum had sworn him to secrecy for some reason.

And it was that which gave him pause.

Because, for the first time in years, he had wondered.

His sister had a crazy imagination at the best of times, and was a real drama-queen to boot, but at Christmas she had something, a wishing stone, and she was claiming that her 'Daddy' had given it to her. Here, for the first time, she was actually showing him 'proof' that the man had been there.

Sure, it could have just been a rock that she'd found herself and decided that this was the story behind it, but she treasured that little thing every day that Harry was home until he finally couldn't help but ask his mum about it again.

Even then, Harry didn't really believe Grace. He'd already thought of all the reasons that it couldn't be true. But after the way his mum had reacted, suddenly everything seemed far less sure.

His mum was cagey, obviously uncomfortable with the subject, which probably could have been explained away by the fact that she had been done over by this guy. But when Harry came right out and asked her if it was Remus she suddenly started acting weird. For a second, Harry thought she was actually going to say yes.

Harry had retreated quickly, feeling sick, and left for Hogwarts wondering if he even wanted to know.

He adored his Uncle Remus. But this would change things. Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to look him in the eye again if it were true. His mum deserved better. Grace deserved better.

Remus was better than that.

Harry didn't want to know. That's why it took him almost a month after he started thinking it before he decided to go to Remus himself. Because, awful as it would be, Harry had to know if it were true.

Remus looked just as uncomfortable as his mum had done when he finally did, cornering him at his desk after one of their extra defence sessions.

"What? Who told you that?"

"Does it matter? If it's the truth–"

"It's not."

"Right. Then why are you acting weird about it?"

"I'm not. Harry, if I was Grace's father, don't you think – I mean, I've been there this whole time. Don't you think you would know? Why would I hide it?"

"I don't know," Harry refused to concede, although he'd been wondering the very same thing himself; "Maybe Mum didn't want you to say anything."

"Why wouldn't she?"

"I don't know. But she obviously told the other guy to stay away."

"Now, we don't – we shouldn't assume…we don't know what happened there."

"But, like you said, you've been there. You're Mum's best friend."

Remus shook his head, and Harry didn't miss the way he averted his eyes as he did; "She's never told me who Grace's father is."

"So, what, Mum just turned up pregnant one day and you didn't think to ask?"

Averted eyes were suddenly back on him and Harry felt himself shrink slightly at the disapproval there.

"Don't forget who you're talking to."

Harry backed down, if only a little; "Sorry."

Remus placed a hand to his forehead, giving a sigh before he went on; "Look. Even if your Mum did tell Grace's father to stay away…She wouldn't do that unless there was a good reason for it."

"A good reason? Like what?"

"Life is complicated, there could be a number of them. Or it could simply be the case that the man in question was unable to…"

"Take responsibility?"

"Something like that."

Harry looked at him carefully; "You're talking like you know him."

"Like I said, your Mum and I have never talked about it," Remus said, as he messed about straightening some already-perfectly-neat parchments on his desk; "This is all just guessing. Dangerous, really, because we'll probably never know what happened."

"Grace keeps talking about him," Harry remarked, needlessly, as Remus already knew that, but the statement sparked an uneasy thought in his mind; "What if he has contacted her? What if she's seen him and Mum doesn't realise?"

Remus chuckled; "That would never happen. Your Mum watches you two like a hawk."

Harry smiled, then, finally feeling somewhat at ease for the first time since the suggestion that it could have been Remus had taken root.

It really was ridiculous. Obviously, it wasn't Remus. He could have figured that out himself. He did figure it out himself, all the reasons it couldn't be true.

He felt silly for even asking.

Remus smiled in turn, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder; "Harry, whatever your Mum does she always has your best interests at heart. Yours and Grace's. If she doesn't want us to know, well, we just have to accept that. It's not like you're all unhappy, is it?"

"No. Not at all."

Remus nodded, giving his shoulder a pat and then, with a nod at the classroom door, a reluctant dismissal; "Professor Dumbledore has asked that I stop by his office after our session. You know where to find me, though. Later, if you need to."

"Nah, that's okay."

Remus smiled again, relief evident in his expression that he'd managed to dispel Harry's doubts.

Harry reached for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder; "I gotta go, too. Detention. Snape."

For a second, Harry thought he saw Remus flinch as he turned away and when he looked at him to check his uncle was gathering up the parchments and avoiding his eyes. Harry couldn't really tell what the furrow on his brow meant but he guessed it was disappointment, or disapproval, and he instantly felt the need to defend himself.

"Nothing new. Snape hands out detentions like –"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Remus interrupted him, before he turned and placed another hand on his shoulder and giving him a tight smile; "And you wouldn't want to keep him waiting, or you may find yourself with another to make up for it."

"Don't need to, he'd find a reason to get me down there either way," Harry stated; "I'll see you later, Uncle Remus."

Remus only nodded, looking thoughtful, before he went on; "Just trust her, Harry. Your Mum."

He did.

Of course he trusted his mum. That wasn't what the problem was. Harry knew all of this, that everything she did was for them. That she would always put them first. That wasn't what he was asking.

Harry paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder and meeting Remus' questioning gaze.

But the relief was still there, in his Uncle's eyes. Relief that'd he'd somehow managed to get through the questions, the conversation at all. As if he had something to hide.

Sure, it was pretty obvious that Grace's father couldn't be Remus.

But someone had to be. And Remus had just spent the last few minutes trying to convince Harry that it didn't matter who.

"You know who he is." It wasn't a question this time. Harry knew it. He was sure. Even if Remus refused to admit it.

The relief was gone with Harry's statement, but there wasn't a look of guilt or culpability in his eyes; no, instead, his uncle just looked exasperated by the persistence.

But Harry wouldn't let that stop him. Even if he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere now, he wasn't letting Remus off the hook.

"Don't you?" Harry challenged him.

This time, his uncle didn't deny it.

Instead, Remus just sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Just let it go, Harry."

It was as close to 'yes' as he was going to get.

Potter was in a particularly sour mood that evening.

But then, Severus was not in a much better one himself.

News of Lucius' escape weighed heavily on his mind. It was not, only, that the man had been a friend. Technically, he still was, and it would be impossible for him to play it otherwise when the two came face to face once more. There could be no overt animosity from him over the way Lucius had handled the situation with Regulus. And, really, it shouldn't have been a surprise. The Dark Lord had assigned him with the search and retrieval of Regulus Black, a known traitor, and there was no way Lucius would give his life up for his wife's cousin. For anyone, in fact.

But the wound ran deep.

Had things played out differently that night, Regulus could have perished at the Dark Lord's hands. The wrong Black brother, if he did say so himself, though always silently. Neither Lily nor Regulus would hear a bad word said about Sirius Black, now.

It was small comfort that Narcissa's intervention – and betrayal – while not exactly the reason Regulus was spared, at least led to the arrest and imprisonment of her husband by the waiting aurors when everything eventually went down.

Just deserts and all that.

He wondered if he ought to ask Narcissa himself if she had heard from him – he doubted Lucius knew what she had done – but, to do so, would signal a desire on Severus' part to seek them out and he would then be put in the situation of having to explain why he did not, then, join them or attempt to communicate to receive further instructions.

Doing nothing, though, was the more frustrating option.

Severus was tired of waiting.

But, then, he also didn't want it all to begin.

His thoughts made no sense.

The pounding in his temples was doing nothing to help rationalise them, the pain-relieving potions he had taken earlier beginning to wear off.

He really was too old, now, to stay up drinking firewhiskey all night with Regulus. He may only be in his thirties, but these wars had aged him decades.

The furious, unnecessarily noisy, swiping of turning pages drew Severus from his thoughts.

From this angle, Harry Potter looked exactly like his father. That same messy turf of black hair, the edge of his glasses catching the light, jawline that was changing and angling further each year to make the resemblance even more uncanny. A jaw that was set with tense agitation that could only mean the boy was thinking heatedly about something – and that something certainly wasn't anything he was looking at in the volume in front of him.

Even Severus had to admit that it wasn't all that interesting.

Just necessary.

Yes, Potter was in a mood, that much was obvious. He had skulked into the room at exactly seven o' clock, barely glanced in Severus' direction and took his place at the same desk, with the same book that had been left out for him at every detention he had been called into for the past month.

He had been huffing and puffing and flicking the pages aside with disinterest ever since and it was a wonder his quill hadn't snapped under the force of his writing.

Of course, after a month, the boy must have finished the book by now, but there was no harm in a second – or even third – reading.

If the book survived the onslaught, that is.

"Potter."

The boy snapped to attention. Startled green eyes were suddenly upon him and it was impossiblefor Severus not to pause.

It was impossible for him not to see Lily.

Snap out of it.

"If you're in need of burning off some energy then there's a perfectly disgusting pile of cauldrons in the back in need of tending to. Otherwise, please refrain from damaging my property."

He expected a huff, a puff, and then a – hopefully silent – continuation of writing but, instead, Potter thought for a moment and then pushed back off the stool with a screech that went right through him and headed in the direction of the cleaning supplies.

Brilliant.

The classroom was suddenly brought to life with the sounds of clattering cauldrons, scraping scourers and running water, Potter getting to work with the same furious energy that he had been directing towards the book.

Let him be.

Obviously the boy needed to let off some steam. Frankly, it was better he did so here, in the safety of the classroom – and under Severus' watchful eye – lest he continue to search for another outlet once detention had concluded and Severus found himself summoned from his bed once again to deal with it.

Severus couldn't help but look, but watch. He never could. It was impossible not to see who and where the boy had come from, James Potter's double but with Lily's eyes, and it was difficult to play the game, sometimes, when he failed to shut himself off from it.

It would have always had to be this way, even if not for Lily.

Like he had warned Regulus the night before; people were watching. He was more than a little aware of the fact. Even the pupils of Hogwarts couldn't be trusted; they were the eyes and ears of their parents within these walls and Severus had never quite managed to get himself back up there, the top of the circle, after Regulus' betrayal had been revealed.

Even the slightest sniff that he had the trust of Harry Potter, that he had access to him, would put everything in jeopardy. Malachi he could get away with; Severus' place within the walls of Hogwarts would not be sacrificed just to get their hands upon a traitor's son. It didn't measure up to his usefulness there.

But Harry Potter? That just might.

Still, that didn't make it any easier. Particularly when Lily was less than pleased by her son's report of their first class together.

"Do you have to be so hard on him?" She'd brought it up almost immediately after Grace had gone to bed, his first visit home after her son's arrival at Hogwarts.

"You know I have to keep him at distance."

"Not like that. You ridiculed him. I won't have that, Severus."

Well. That was him told.

Perhaps not something to be proud of, but mockery and sarcasm came easily to him. Hell, the entire foundation of his and Regulus' friendship was based upon it. Or had been, at least, in the beginning. But, with that option out the window, Severus would have to play it all differently.

And so, silence was the only alternative, because kindness was not an option and even to 'go easy on him', as Lily implied, was not possible as he had always been hard on all of his students. They did not come to this school to be coddled and have their noses wiped. Distasteful as the thought may be, they were the next generation of fighters in the war effort and if they couldn't handle the pressures of a secondary education then they would crumble like leaves in the Autumn when they came face to face with the world.

The boy continued working vigorously on the cauldrons, with a focus and determination in his actions that Severus could only dream the boy would put into his schoolwork.

Whatever had maddened him, the muggle-inspired punishment seemed to be an almost therapeutic outlet.

Just like Lily, Severus realised with a start.

She always did that. Whenever she was furious or upset, she took out her frustrations on the unsuspecting dishes and carpets and windows, the house sparkling from top to bottom by the time she was done in a way that even magic did not accomplish.

Whenever the house seemed particularly cleaner than usual, Severus often joked and asked what had happened to aggravate her.

Of course, it was not as if Severus never noticed Lily in him. He was not all James Potter – or Sirius Black, as even those mannerisms sometimes, unfortunately, came through – Severus could see that. That nonsense the previous year with the Chamber of Secrets; throwing oneself into dangerous situations without regard for the consequences to try to save a friend?

That was all Lily.

And now, because he had allowed himself the moment of weakness, he could only see Lily as he observed the boy. Sometimes the way he talked and smiled – at others – would evoke it. His laughter in the classrooms and in the halls did not quite hold that same cocky, infuriating arrogance that his father had displayed as a child. When Potter laughed, he meant it.

He could see Lily, then.

Potter scrubbed at one of the cauldrons, distracted now, the edge of his anger seeming to have been taken away and he dropped the scourer he was using. He lifted a hand, a dramatic show of exasperation, and reached for it with a roll of his eyes.

And that, that, was Grace right there.

The over-dramatics.

Severus could handle seeing Lily and James Potter in him. But when he saw his daughter in Harry Potter's actions, it always, always, hit him like a punch in the gut. Because, in those moments, Severus just couldn't push aside the fact that this boy was family.

"Potter."

Without thinking about the what or why, he indicated the chair opposite him on the other side of the desk.

The boy's brow furrowed, evidently confused, but he did as was asked and approached, taking the seat opposite him with obvious wariness and the bewilderment on his face was enough to snap Severus out of his weakness.

Too late, obviously, as he now needed to think up a reason to call the boy before him. Quickly.

Familiar, too familiar, green eyes watched and waited.

Severus didn't speak to Potter as a rule – a self-imposed one, yes, but a rule nonetheless. And this was why. The were absolutely nothing he could possibly have to say while maintaining the lie.

Seeing his family – perhaps he just missed them too much because, Merlin, he did and it was almost crippling him that he hadn't seen them properly since well before Christmas – seeing them in him made him reach out.

Foolishly.

He grasped at the only thing the two of them had in common.

That the boy knew about, of course.

"Do you have any questions?"

Potter only looked back at him with confusion, seeming as thrown by the summons to his desk as Severus was.

"Regarding the volume you have been writing from," he elaborated. He supposed he really ought to offer this service now and again, as a Professor of Hogwarts, if nothing else. After all, if the boy really was called up to fight, then the information Severus had been presenting him with at his detentions was essential.

"Oh." Potter still looked thrown; "Uh. No. No, Sir."

"None at all?" That was highly doubtful, even Severus himself had had to do some additional reading when he had first accessed the textbook; "It is a rather dense work."

"I didn't think…I mean I didn't…"

Potter looked nervous, as well as confused now, and it didn't take Severus long to realise why.

Surely not?

"Mr Potter. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you trying to tell me that in all this time that you have been writing from these books that you have not actually been reading the text?"

"I didn't think I was supposed to."

"And what do you believe are the purpose of books?"

Potter seemed to shrink in his seat but even then, there was a defiance in his expression that told Severus that the boy before him just didn't get it. This whole time, he thought Severus was just throwing textbooks at him for the jollies of watching him suffer while his friends were off out gallivanting, probably cursing the world that he couldn't join in.

Of course, Potter decided not to leave it at that. There had to be a little impertinence. He was raised by Sirius Black, after all.

"I didn't think there was going to be a test."

Unbelievable.

Suddenly, Severus no longer saw Lily, or Grace, or even James-Bloody-Potter. No, in that moment, he saw only thirteen-year-old Harry Potter. A child. A naïve, foolish child who was soon to be hunted by the most powerful Dark Wizard the world had ever known.

And he didn't stand a chance.

"Very well," Severus managed to grit out past his outrage; "Very well. If assessment is what is required to get information into that…" He paused, reigning himself in and drew a breath; "If a test is what you seek, Mr Potter, then you are in luck. Two rolls of parchment on my desk by Friday morning on the uses and practices of occlumency."

"What?" Potter was outraged in turn; "We're in detention, you can't –"

"I can and I have. Should you wish to contest the assignment, I suggest you take it up with the Headmaster."

Green eyes, Lily's eyes, glared back at him with the full force of the boy's loathing but Severus wouldn't allow himself to look away.

The boy's failings here were his own too.

It had been Severus' responsibility to prepare him.

He would not make the same mistake again. From now on, he would have to add 'quizzes' to his ever-growing daily task list.

But needs must.

"Consider that a dismissal, Mr Potter."

The boy left the room even more furious than when he had entered it.