Regulus fingered through the parchments he was reading with disinterest.

He should be delighted with them, he had been chasing up further information on Blood Magic for months, after all, and today, after all of the searching, these had finally turned up on his desk, a contact across the pond seeing to it for him. Not that it was a guarantee of being anything useful, of course; Regulus would have to comb through it all, carefully, before he could be sure either way.

As it was, though, Regulus' mind could not be further from the task at hand – far, far away tucked up beneath the covers of a very inviting bed, crappy mattress be damned, with a woman he could not stop thinking about, no matter how hard he tried – and he had lost count of the number of times he had read and reread the very first paragraph of the parchment; he had resorted to skimming but, even then, nothing was getting through.

Regulus tossed the parchments aside and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hand behind his head.

This wouldn't do.

He was way, way too distracted for this to be normal.

Regulus glanced at the timepiece, wondering if it was too early to duck out. Pointless, if he were to, though; Julia was working late.

Regulus smirked at his own thoughts, shaking his head, but it wasn't funny. Not at all.

Perhaps he should just head out, go down to a bar or a club or something – definitely not the pub he had frequented so much, recently – and pick up someone else, a random, and try to drive Julia from his mind with the arms of another.

He felt nauseous at the thought. Nauseous! It wasn't unheard of for him to have multiple women on the go, sometimes on the very same night, and now he was shrinking away at the thought of being with another woman, as if Julia Bradbury was the one and only for him.

This was crazy.

No way was he in that deep.

Regulus got to his feet.

He'd prove it. Any other woman would do, surely.

He began to step around the side of the desk but was halted within a few steps by a single sharp knock on the adjourning door to his right, before it pulled open and Severus strode into the room.

"Regulus. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up."

Regulus raised his eyebrows; "Well. Someone's in a mood."

An understatement. Severus looked furious. Though what Regulus could have done to evoke this fury was a mystery to him, considering he hadn't seen his friend in almost a fortnight.

Regulus turned and went back to his seat, sitting down, wondering what walloping Severus seemed to have in store for him; "Why so tense?"

"I am not tense," Severus said, looking away, though his eyes were dark with obvious annoyance, at least. He eyed Regulus; "I have been trying to catch you all week. Where have you been?"

"Preoccupied."

"Preoccupied?" Severus repeated, frowningly, as he approached; "With what?"

Regulus shrugged; "Shagging."

Severus lifted his eyes heavenwards; "Of course." He took the seat on the other side of the desk; "Dumbledore hoped you might have some insight into this matter."

"Feeling a little horny himself, is he?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; "Spare me the visuals, Regulus."

Regulus chuckled; "What matter?"

"Have you heard anything regarding the situation at the Ministry?"

"What situation?"

"The disappearances. Aubrey Wyatt and Ethan Mallory; vanished without a trace."

Regulus could barely hold back his surprise; "Uh…"

"You haven't? I thought it was part of your responsibilities to keep track of what is going on in that place?"

Regulus shot him an irritated look, even if he was pretty sure he deserved the censure. He'd spent all month wrapped up in a haze of whispers and kisses, after all, and he doubted Severus would think that was a good enough reason to allow the Dark Lord to continue his advance upon the Ministry unobserved; "It's not my responsibility, I just have people there I can have a word with, is all. If you'd told me sooner –"

"You have been completely off the radar all month."

Regulus pursed his lips together and lifted his chin, eyes sparkling, entirely unwilling to apologise for what had been such a marvellous time.

Severus rolled his eyes, elaborating on the circumstances further; "It seems their disappearance has been made to look as if it is that of a 'lovers tryst', so to speak, clues left with hints that they have coupled up and ran off into the sunset together. A possibility that their respective spouses deny, quite vehemently, apparently. Considering their occupations, it is obvious to those who know what is happening underfoot that their disappearance is no mere coincidence."

"Ah. Of course. The Great Love of the Unspeakables; who'd have thought it."

"It's safe to assume they are not the only ones touched."

Regulus slid the parchments he had (not) been reading in Severus' direction; "I've been looking into other things."

Severus lifted the parchments, and the annoyance Regulus had quickly identified in his eyes upon arrival was immediately directed his way; "Blood Magic?"

"Yes."

"Regulus –"

"It's the way we have to do this."

Severus fingered the parchments, mildly curious; "Did you find anything of use within it?"

"I'm not great at combing through. Thought you might want to take a look. See if you can pick up on anything I might have missed."

Which would be everything, though Regulus didn't voice that thought.

Severus rolled them up, tucking them away into his robes; "In the meantime, perhaps you'd be kind enough to put your connections to use. Before this weekend's Order meeting, if you could possibly spare a moment."

"What's up with you, Prickles?" Regulus said, eyeing him, at the continuing barbed comments; "Lovers tiff?"

Severus' eyes darkened, and Regulus made a face, realising he'd got it right on the money, and he cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow because it was too late to backtrack now.

"No," Severus said, tersely, before pursing his lips together and turning away, glaring at nothing; "It is not Lily."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, surprised that Severus didn't just get up and leave at his prodding; "The Dark Lord, then?"

Severus drew in a breath. He said the name with utter loathing when he eventually spoke; "Remus Lupin."

It was someone Regulus would not have guessed in a million years.

He frowned; "Since when do you allow Lupin to get under your skin?"

"Since he started imposing himself on my family."

"Just tell him to back off."

"It is not as easy as that. He and Lily have…a closeness."

The word was said as if Severus tried for a sneer, but it didn't quite come out that way; rather, it came out as a resigned, unwelcome truth that he did not want to admit.

"Speak to Lily, then."

"I have."

"Hence the lowered brow?" Regulus said, with a sympathetic smile; "She sides with him?"

"She didn't get the chance. I was…short with her."

"Ah," Regulus said, for he had been on the other end of Severus' lashing fury often in the past; "She'll get over it."

She surely knew this side of Severus well enough by now, after all.

"I know," Severus confirmed it; "But that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

There was a silence, as if Severus were deciding whether or not to speak or leave.

Severus drew in a breath, seemingly bracing himself, before he spoke.

"You are aware of the circumstances with Grace?"

Regulus shrugged, mildly surprised, as he always was, when Severus mentioned her; "A bit."

They never talked about Severus' home life and certainly never about Grace. It was dangerous, and Severus was, understandably, incredibly over-cautious when it came to her protection. Sister of the 'Chosen One'; daughter of the spy.

Severus fingered the wood of the desk, not looking at Regulus when he spoke, as if it were very difficult for him to even say the words; "Do you think that I am doing wrong by her? In my handling of the situation?"

Regulus hesitated; "Wrong?"

It was a rare thing, indeed, for Severus to come asking him for his advice on any such matter as this.

"To distance myself from them. From her," Severus elaborated, straightening and meeting his eyes; "Would you do the same, if it were an option, with Malachi?"

Regulus drew in a breath, thinking on the question, before he shook his head, nothing for it; "There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. If keeping away would make him safer; yes, of course I would."

"As I thought," Severus' averted his eyes, frowningly, and glanced around the office; "It is only logical."

Severus said it, but the words were hardly felt, obviously, as there was still that troubled furrow on his brow that he would, under normal circumstances, never let anyone see.

"It's all fine and well for me to speak logically about it," Regulus offered, knowing the reasons for Severus' uneasiness now – it wasn't about Lupin or Lily, no, but his daughter – and he tried to offer some wisdom on the matter, though such things were never really Regulus' forte; "I imagine it would be a lot harder than it sounds, saying it in this comfortable office when the option is pretty much null and void in my case. Life without Malachi?" Regulus shook his head; "Unthinkable. I could but it'd try me. Any father, I'm sure."

Severus only nodded, slowly.

The words didn't seem to offer much comfort. And that Severus felt 'tried' by the circumstances was obvious, now, and of course he would do; she was his child, for Merlin's sake, and, as far as Regulus had managed to gather from his day with her that summer, she longed for her father as much as he did, her, which implied a rather long duration of absence and a painful one, if Severus still had not gone to her following his return from the Dark Lord's side.

Regulus cleared his throat, knowing he was going to have to give him a little more, to lessen the sting, somewhat – though nothing would make up for the absence of his daughter in his life – and he smiled; "I spent a day with her this summer. Potter's funeral, I didn't attend. She is very amusing, very like you –"

"You call her amusing and then link that to myself? That is hardly compatible," Severus said, though his expression had warmed, slightly, at him openly speaking of her.

"Nothing is more amusing than your disapproving frowns; she's got those down, all right, the little monkey. And she seemed to think I was quite the fool in comparison to her great father – whom she could not stop speaking about, I have to tell you, you've certainly got that girl wrapped around your finger – and she is very happy, despite how much she misses you, I could see that much. She is good and kind, just as you said about my son."

Severus held his look and Regulus could feel the gratitude radiating off of him, even if he would not speak the words.

Regulus smiled, nodding; "She is happy and safe and loved, Severus. What more could you do for her?"

Severus lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

Regulus shook his head; "Don't let Remus Lupin, of all people, make you doubt that. What would he know about loving a child?"

"He loves her," Severus stated, not missing a beat, and met his eyes; "Them all."

"So? Surely the more people invested in their safety, the better."

"They are mine to protect."

"Would you say the same about me? You know I'd protect them, just as well, should the occasion call for it."

Severus looked away; "That is different."

Regulus raised an eyebrow; "Surely you don't think Lily has feelings for him?"

"Of course not," Severus bit out, glaring at him.

Regulus didn't look away, never one to wither under Severus' scowls, especially not when he was lashing out at the world for the injustice of it all, and told him the bottom line, the truth of the matter, because that was what mattered, now, amongst all the unbearable options and ways of playing this – none of them good, never – but as it was; "You're the one who will be going home to them, Severus."

Severus pondered the statement for a moment.

And then he met Regulus' eyes, giving him a small smile.

Regulus shot him a smile of his own in turn, before he pulled open the cupboard door beneath his desk and held up a bottle; "Night cap?"

"It is barely seven pm."

"You look like you could use it. Liquid strength, for when you go crawling back to that woman of yours."

Severus' lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes, slightly, at the reminder he was probably going to have to go and apologise to Lily for whatever it was he had said. He inclined his head and Regulus 'accioed' two glasses, filling them up, and they spent the next few of hours chuckling and sparring, back and forth, as they did in the past – the good old days – until Severus had finally taken his leave of him past ten o clock, both a little lightheaded due to the effects of the alcohol.

It was that lightheaded tipsiness that Regulus blamed for the fact that he had glanced at the timepiece in delight, realising Julia's shift would be up now.

He abandoned his earlier intentions to find another – the nauseous thought utterly repellent now – and had left the Foundation without any other destination in mind but the pub, just up the road from hers, where he was sure she would check in on the way home.

Regulus was not disappointed, bright brown eyes and a smile, coming upon him within half an hour of his arrival.

He felt Julia's hands on his hips from behind before he saw her, her breath on the side of his neck just as she whispered a greeting to close into his ear; "Hey, Stranger."

Regulus quickly turned, if only to make her release him. Not because he wanted her to stop touching him, not at all, but because of how it would obviously look; it was far too much like affection and he could not been seen that way with anyone. Especially not in such a public place as this. Especially not with Julia Bradbury.

Julia kissed him and he returned it, as briefly as he could, acutely aware, now, of his previous concern, before drawing back; "To yours, Miss Bradbury?"

"You don't want to hang out here for a bit?"

He shook his head; "Nah. Seen enough. There are other, far more enticing things I'd rather be seeing, I think," he flashed a cheeky smile and she laughed, rolling her eyes, before she took him by the hand and led him home.

There was no other place he'd rather be.

Flashes of James Potter's face whizzed on by, flying on his broomstick, going past again and again on repeat; a moving photograph during a Quidditch game.

There was James Potter's face, staring blankly straight through him.

There was James Potter's photograph, enlarged and placed upon a stand, up at the front of the hall, the frame dressed in flowers and candles lining the bottom of the ledge. A funeral.

There was James Potter's look of the more sincerest loathing, as he glared right back at him…

Severus was abruptly – finally – thrown from Harry's mind.

The boy's breathing was harsh, uneven, and a quick glance at Harry's face told Severus that he needed a minute to compose himself.

"Take a few minutes," Severus said, as he always did when the occasion called for it during these lessons and walked the short distance to his desk.

His step was lighter than it had been for weeks. He had been positively thundering through the halls as he had reeled in the aftermath of Lupin's taunt regarding his absence.

As if it were a choice for him to spend his days at the side of the Dark Lord, rather than that of his little girl.

The conversation and the firewhiskey with Regulus the previous night had done him good.

No longer was Severus rattled and wracked with guilt as to what he was doing to his daughter – what he and Lily were doing, here, was the obvious and only way of doing this – and he cursed Remus Lupin's very existence for making him doubt it.

For weeks, Severus had simmered and stewed over it, acutely aware of every minute that passed that he was not with Grace, trying to come up with various scenarios in his mind as to how things could be done differently. Asking himself if there was magic that could help them, a charm he could maybe tweak or create, some sort of concealment enchantment that would do something to allow him access to Grace; but, then, that would only complicate, further, the situation with Harry, which was part of the reason why he had walked away in the first place.

It was not only about Grace.

Lily couldn't deal with the lie, at such a level as having him actually in the house, anymore, and Severus knew that her resolve had been breaking back at Easter, under her son's continuing questions.

Contrary to Regulus' assumptions that he would be going to her the previous night, Severus didn't. While he had been unfair to lash out quite in the way that he did to her – he should have brought it up with a bit more tact, perhaps – at least he had managed to get the message across.

He wanted Lupin gone.

No way could he make a comment like that and get away with it.

Severus would apologise or explain himself, whichever was more appropriate, following the inaugural Order meeting this weekend and, hopefully, after she had had her words with Lupin; they could resolve it all in one fell swoop, that way, rather than continue with the long, drawn out back and forth that always had to take place over several days due to their need to keep their distance.

Or, at least, the appearance of it.

Severus pushed all those thoughts away; burying them, until the weekend, now that he had finally – somewhat – made peace with it. It was harder than he thought it would be, this time; harder than it was the first, the second time he had done it, returning to the Dark Lord's side. Now that he had a child involved. And Lily. If anything, having a reason not only to succeed but to survive made playing and fighting all of this that much harder.

Severus glanced at Harry.

The boy's head was lowered, as he sat on one of the stools, obviously thinking very deeply about something. Severus hoped it was an attempt to get his emotions in check because his transparency had reached unthinkable levels that week – that month – as he still seemed to reel in the aftermath of his father's demise.

Every lesson, it had been James Potter. He was everywhere, every time Severus had intruded into his mind. The boy was constantly haunted by James Potter's face. His face, yes, but never the man himself. Photographs, a man lying as good as dead in a hospital bed, a look of the purest loathing from someone else's – his – memories.

Severus was certain he had seen the man more now, in death, in Harry's mind than he had during the entire time he had lived and attended school with him.

If only that were true.

Severus pushed aside the thought, sick to death of any thoughts about the damn Marauders, and turned his attention to Harry, instead.

Things were cordial between the two of them, they had been ever since their first encounter following their return to the school, but their interactions lacked the warmth that had been established prior to the holidays.

Severus supposed that was to be expected. While the boy had seemed to take him at his word, and demonstrated no fear whatsoever from him – which was, actually, proving to be rather an annoyance – but he remained somewhat closed off. But then, from his careful observations, he hadn't really been himself even out with these lessons.

Severus supposed, though, if it was the case that Harry sought to distance himself in light of what he now knew about him, it was better that way. He wasn't supposed to be building a relationship with him, after all.

That would be foolish.

Their interactions weren't quite the same, though, as they had been prior to the understanding they had developed on the last day of term. Rather, the whole ordeal over the summer and the ensuing knowledge Harry had gained in the aftermath had led to a confidence and an increase in boldness from the boy, on occasion.

And, today, seemed to be one of those occasions.

"You mind is particularly open today, Mr Potter," Severus said, as he approached him once more.

"Isn't it always, Sir?"

Severus raised an eyebrow; "Especially so, this morning."

"Is this the part where you ask me my troubles and offer me a cup of tea?" Harry said, looking both playful and annoyed at Severus' observation all at once, which he tried not to be affected by.

"You have become very blasé in your choice of phrasing these past few weeks, Mr Potter," Severus said, though he did not find the behaviour quite so grating, now that he had finally put to rest his doubts about Grace; "Do not forget you are talking to a Professor, not a chum from your Quidditch team."

"Sorry for the offence. Sir."

"Sarcasm," Severus crossed his arms – when had Harry and Malachi decided he was someone who would tolerate such cheek; "Five points."

"Fine," Harry shrugged, speaking in a surly tone, that indicated obvious cheek, still, but there was sadness, there, too, that Severus couldn't quite place. The boy had been incredibly up and down ever since the lessons had resumed for the term.

"It is no wonder your mind is so penetrable with that attitude, Potter. Do we need to go back to the beginning?"

"The beginning?"

"A lesson on the benefits of controlling one's emotions."

Harry frowned, looking bewildered; "You never gave me that lesson."

"On the contrary, every minute spent with you is a demonstration of it."

Harry rolled his eyes at the jibe, crossing his arms across his chest, and Severus thought he was going to simply be silent and wait for Severus to resume the lesson, but, instead, Harry seemed to decide his words were an invitation to open up about his woes.

"It's my dad."

Severus rolled his eyes; "Tell me something I do not know, Mr Potter. I have been treated to unending images of the very man for weeks on end."

"He died," Harry bit out, eyes narrowing; "Pardon me for thinking about it a bit."

Severus was suitably cowed by the statement. Obviously, the boy would need to grieve. The kidnapping of the boy taking place the night of James Potter's funeral could not have been more poorly time. To lose a parent, at all, was difficult – Severus knew that – but under the circumstances in this instance, as well as the disaster in the aftermath, it was no wonder Harry had continued to dwell on it.

Harry Potter was a person entirely ruled by his emotions, after all. Just like his mother. Severus would expect nothing less.

"Of course, Mr Potter," Severus conceded, uncrossing his arms and stepping with the intention of returning to his desk; "If you need a moment –"

"I don't need more moments!" Harry said, sounding incredibly exasperated when he did; "It wouldn't change anything. That he's gone."

"No. I suppose not. Nonetheless, sometimes it is necessary to do so. Your father was –"

"He was an arse!"

"Language, Potter. Or I shall have to take points."

Severus marvelled at his ability to maintain his own self-control and not show his complete surprise – not to mention his amusement – at the declaration made by the boy.

"That's all I have of him," Harry said, ignoring Severus' words and shaking his head; "What he did to you. That's the only memory I have and it's not even mine."

It wasn't amusing.

Any humour Severus felt sufficiently snuffed out by the apparent grief in the boy's eyes as he looked back at him.

It was cruel, that Harry should have to bear that. But, then, Severus could offer him nothing else about the man. Someone else could, of course. Lily or Remus Bloody Lupin – who else! – would be on hand to offer platitudes and delightful anecdotes about what a swell young man James Potter had been.

"I'm certain that if you were to go to your mother or, even, your Defence professor, an avid admirer of your father during our school years, they will be able to paint a more…flattering picture of your father than the one you have received from me."

Harry shook his head; "Like you said, Sir. Professor Lupin was an avid admirer," he said it as if it were a bad thing, before elaborating further; "I want to know who he was. What he was like. Really. Not something him or my Mum tell me to make me feel better. I want to know the truth."

Harry swallowed, before he drew in a breath as if he were bracing himself, and looked right at him; "You knew him, didn't you? Could you tell me about him?"

Severus was aghast at the request. Of all the things the boy could possibly ask.

"Potter, I am hardly an unbiased source," Severus said, as diplomatically as possible; "Surely you would rather hear the waxed poetics of those who cared for him rather than anything I have to say. I will not lie, there is nothing positive in it."

Harry looked away, seeming to ponder the words. After a few moments, he looked back at him; "You could help me remember."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I know what you can do, Malachi told me. You can help people get their memories back. Memories they've lost."

Orion. How on Earth had the boys gotten their hands on that. The Project was long ago dead and buried, following Eugene Hopkin's murder of Andromeda and the others at the Foundation.

That day.

"Ah," Severus said, reluctantly elaborating on what Harry had discovered; "You are referring to a project I initiated many years ago. Your mother was, in fact, a Fellow assigned to it," that was not entirely true, no, but she would know about it, at least, due to the nature of Dorado; "As such, I once again urge you to turn to her regarding this matter."

"No," Harry said, refusing, as Severus knew that he would; "I can't wait until Christmas, that's too long. I need to see him, now."

"This impatience does you no credit, Potter," Severus said, his own exasperation seeping into his voice, because he was actually beginning to doubt his ability to fend off the boy's request. But to not fend him off was unthinkable. He could not go into the boy's head and dig up the memories he had of his father. In light of their current circumstances – which Harry had no idea of – it seemed almost entirely immoral to do so.

"Do try and demonstrate some self-control; or did you learn nothing from your little ploy on the first day of term? Two months is nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"Please, Sir," Harry's voice turned pleading now, looking at him with pleading eyes, so much like his mother's, so much like his sister's. Those haunting green eyes; "Just…just help me?"

Severus drew in a breath, his resolve set.

The answer was no.

"Potter, the procedure is both invasive and highly personal, far more so than would make it appropriate for a teacher and student to engage in. Indeed, I'm quite certain the school regulations would require written permissions from your guardians before it could take place."

"Fine, I'll get them, then. I'll owl my Mum tonight."

"You'll do no such thing," Severus said, quickly. He could only just imagine Lily's response; "I have not agreed to this. Nor will I ever. Your memories of your father are private –"

"I don't have any memories of him, that's the point! They're in here but they're lost. I just…I just want to know who he was."

"Potter –"

"You owe me this. Alright? You're the one that gave me all of this crap about him!"

Severus' eyes narrowed, though he wasn't truly offended by the assertion. It was, partly, true, after all.

Even though Harry didn't know it, it was him who instigated the Occlumency tutorials that had led to this particular revelation and Severus hadn't bothered to store his memories of James Potter away during the lessons – there were far more important memories that needed to be concealed, after all – and so, yes, maybe he did owe him an apology, perhaps. But he didn't owe Harry what the boy was asking.

"I only gave you what I had of him, Potter. Believe me when I say that it is not something that I am at all thrilled to hold within my subconsciousness."

"Imagine how I feel, then," Harry said, his voice quiet, with a brokenness that it was impossible for Severus not to be affected by; "That was my dad."

The boy looked back at him, then, with such a look of desperation, of vulnerability, that it was impossible for Severus not to be moved by it. Harry looked at him – and there was trust there, which still had the ability to throw him, when anyone should look at him like that – he looked at him as if Severus had all the answers, as if he was the only one in the world who could possibly rectify this wrong. For him.

And, Severus realised, that was perhaps entirely true.

Severus could help him.

Severus could find those memories. It would be easy. He knew exactly where to look. He knew exactly what Harry wanted him to find. They were not lost in the way that Orion was originally initiated to be of use; Severus could have him something, a hell of a lot in fact, within minutes.

Would Harry thank him for that, in a time long from now, when Severus was eventually revealed to him as Grace's father – as his stepfather – that he had given those memories back to him. Or would he feel betrayed, rather, that Severus had been privy to them, this sacred relationship between father and son?

Severus pushed aside the thought because he could not make this about him.

And, even if sentimentally was pushed aside, there was always the larger picture to consider. Harry had been plagued by these thoughts for weeks and they were, quite clearly, affecting his ability to think clearly. They had gotten almost nowhere since their lessons had resumed in September.

This would help that, if Severus did as he asked. If he helped put this ghost to rest.

Severus eyed Harry, uneasily. Uneasy because, he knew, he was standing here rationalising it in his mind; the reasons he would help him do this.

And, once it got that far, there was obviously no other conclusion.

"Owl your mother," Severus finally said; "Explain it. In detail. If she consents, we'll move forward from there."

Harry's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what Severus had just said.

"Really?" he said, before his expression went from broken to delighted in a second flat.

Severus had to fight very hard not to smile back under such a beaming one as that. But he was, by no means, delighted, himself, by this turn of events.

Really. This boy!

"I'll owl her now," Harry turned, as if to make quickly from the room, and Severus caught him by the arm.

"Patience, Potter," Severus drawled, and Harry looked at him with a frown. Severus raised his eyebrow; "We are still in the middle of a lesson."

"Well. Can I be excused, then, to go?"

"No. You may not."

Harry's shoulders dropped, and he made to protest, but he caught himself at Severus' unamused expression, realising – correctly – that he really ought not to push him, now, as the deal was by no means set in stone.

Harry nodded, smiling at him – the first this term – and he rolled his eyes; "Alright."

Severus nodded at the middle of the room; "Prepare yourself."

Harry did as he was told.

The lesson resumed and Severus was treated to a further twenty minutes of James Bloody Potter flashing on by through the boy's memories – the boy utterly unable to get his emotions about the man under control now – but Severus flattered himself to think that these memories were really not so terrible.

Not, in light, of the ones that were due to show up next.