Chapter Thirty-Eight

So, Harry had figured out the truth by himself.

Severus would be impressed if the outcome were not so grave.

Lupin had confirmed the worst of all the possible scenarios – that Harry knew it all – and the reality of that had finally snapped Severus out of his brooding that had plagued him these past few weeks, almost as if he had just been waiting for this to happen, and he cast all dwelling aside in the wake of it.

Along with it, he cast aside any concern, any regret, any desire to point fingers – he was entirely certain the realisation had come to Harry due to a slip he had made during that lesson, though he wasn't quite sure, yet, what – in light of the necessity to get this situation under control.

Immediately.

Three days Harry had known and that was three days too many.

He only hoped that Lupin had asserted the need for discretion, along with any confirmations he had made, when Harry had gone to him and that Harry had managed to keep his mouth shut in the ensuing mind-blowing the boy would have experienced along with it.

Lily, no doubt, would be beside herself and Severus prayed that she would heed his previous warnings that she stay away from both him and Regulus at the Foundation – under no circumstances was she to imply any connection to either, and especially not to him – until this continuing spy-threat that plagued the organisation was brought under control.

He half-expected that Lily would burst down these doors – the ones of Hogwarts – and demand to speak with her son, immediately. He doubted doing so would be productive – Severus was unable to quite shake the concern he felt for the boy, in light of the anguish he had felt radiating from him during their brief lesson earlier that morning – but it was, by far, the least damaging of all Lily's possible reactions to whatever Lupin had said to her.

Maybe some words with his mother, no matter how much he would not want to hear them, would at least lessen the grief Harry had made so apparent to him.

But, then, it was that very grief that Severus was counting on, in that moment, that would save them all from the worst possible outcome of Harry's learning the truth, in the way that he did.

"It seems that the parentage of Grace Potter has become apparent to her older brother."

"Hm."

"Needless to say, he has not taken the revelation well."

Severus made a good show of concealing his mortification that it had come to this - doing his best not to look and feel like a miscreant schoolboy who had been caught and brought before the Headmaster to confess his misdeeds – as he sat across the desk from Dumbledore.

"Quite needless," Albus conceded, with a nod.

Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling, as they always did, whenever they skirted around the topic of the Potters and the youngest child's parentage – the old wizard entirely aware of what he and Lily had been up to these past few years – rather, they were coolly calm, as he digested the information.

He was not even looking Severus' way at all, in fact, as he contemplated all that this could mean; Severus could almost see the cogs turning behind those wise, blue eyes as each scenario and solution passed by and he simply waited, patiently, for either his reprimand or his orders, whichever the Headmaster saw best fit to bestow.

After a moment, Dumbledore lowered his chin in a second, conceding nod and met his look once more.

"And you are of the opinion that Harry's current state of mind could be to our advantage?"

Severus almost ground his teeth together at the crassness of both the question and the reality of it; "Indeed. While I am quite certain that the Dark Lord will have felt something, through the connection that he and the boy share – even while attempting to block the connection, himself – I'm not entirely convinced the Dark Lord would have been able to access his mind in that moment – or, indeed, any moment in the ensuing aftermath of Potter's realisation – due to the intensity of the boy's emotional response. It was…quite unlike anything I have ever experienced."

"Ah, Severus, you have always said that he is an emotional child."

"Even I did not expect an impact such as that, Albus, the boy floored me – literally – with it."

The Headmaster's lips twitched a little, eyes almost sparkling but not quite, and he nodded; which seemed to indicate he was not seeing impending doom at that very moment, which was actually a comfort – thank the deities – and suggested that, perhaps, Severus' assessment of the situation was accurate.

"It stands to reason that if you, Severus, were overwhelmed enough by the severity of Harry's emotions – so much so that you were pushed and held out by the grief that Harry is experiencing – that Tom would find it quite impossible to bear the brunt of it, as well. Indeed, love and all the associations that come with it – such as grief bourn of the great betrayal by a loved one – would be something that your old Master would be most unable to withstand or comprehend."

"Then you agree that the intensity of the boy's emotions will have kept him out?"

"Yes."

"Good," Severus said, glancing away. That was a relief. A momentary one, yes, but a relief nonetheless.

"Though his grief will not last long," Dumbledore said; "Which, of course, is something that ought to bring comfort – particularly to his mother – but, unfortunately, when that subsides, it will soon turn to emotions that Tom understands remarkably well. And, when that happens –"

"Yes."

"It is imperative that Harry is able to block the link, efficiently, when it does, lest Harry continue to vent his frustrations and reveal the truth in his interactions."

"It is," Severus agreed; "Though I think we can both agree that I will get nowhere with the boy in my attempts to tutor him now."

"We can, Severus," Dumbledore agreed; "I shall take over the Occlumency Lessons with Harry, for the time being, until a more amicable partnership between the two of you can be established, once more."

"We were never amicable, Headmaster," Severus countered, eyeing him.

Although that was not, entirely, true. Nonetheless, Severus doubted very much that he and Harry would again manage to reach a level in their relationship that would be considered as such – ever – after all of this.

He felt it, that pang of regret, of concern that he had pushed down, rise back up, once more – the brokenness in the boy's eyes as he had rounded on him coming back to him with it – but Severus pushed it aside; Harry would be unaccepting of any explanations or comfort that he may attempt to offer, and obviously would not be at all interested in anything he had to say about it – he had not reached that level of importance in the boy's life, even now that he knew the truth, no matter what understanding the two of them had managed to establish these past few months.

It would have to be Lily.

Or Lupin. Severus could almost roll his eyes, knowing that, of the two of them, Harry would be far more likely to hear what he had to say, over his mother, on the matter.

And Severus was quite certain that Lupin meant it when he said he was done with all of them.

He was also quite certain that Harry would put up a good fight with any and all.

"Perhaps it is best that you keep your distance for the time being, Severus," the Headmaster came out and said, as if he were reading his mind and breaking a more established pattern of just hinting at the things he should like him to do in his personal life; "Until the situation is brought more fully under our control."

"I doubt the boy would let me get within ten feet of him, regardless, Albus," Severus stated, leaning back in his chair; "Though if he were to direct any feelings of distrust or, rather, loathing my way during our future interactions and the Dark Lord were to see and sense it, that could easily be explained away by my involvement in his resurrection. Harry witnessed it, after all."

"I am not doubting your abilities to turn a situation to your advantage, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving him a smile.

Severus glanced away.

He doubted he would ever be able to turn this circumstance to his advantage.

"Well then, Severus," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet; "I am quite certain you have others that require your immediate attention, with regards to this matter –"

Severus also stood, not acknowledging the obvious nod at his need to discuss this with Lily, and accepted the dismissal.

" – my own lessons with Harry shall commence this week."

Severus could only hope that Dumbledore's intervention in the boy's tuition may put a stop to the impending doom that he had always foreseen.

"I don't think my dad would let me stay for Christmas, Harry."

Harry didn't want to go home this year.

Malachi really didn't want to stay.

It wasn't that he didn't want to spend Christmas with Harry, obviously; he made it sound like a blast! All the other kids – most of them, anyway – went home and the Professors weren't as strict, and they, pretty much, got free reign of the whole Castle. Not to mention a feast to end all feasts!

But Malachi really wanted to be with his dad.

His last two visits home had ended badly – really badly – and he didn't even like being away from him so long, as it was, anyway.

He hated the thought of his dad spending Christmas Day by himself at home.

And then there was the anniversary of his mum's death, just before that, too.

The thought of his dad being alone for either – nevermind both – made Malachi feel sick.

But, then, Harry was still so upset about what had happened with his mum. And Severus. That was so very weird on so many levels, to Malachi, who couldn't imagine his Godfather being warm enough to actually be with anyone, nevermind Mrs Potter. But, meh, he was constantly being surprised by all the things he'd learned his dad and Severus had gotten up to before they'd become parents.

He'd remember that the next time either tried to give him a scolding, for sure.

He would get one at Christmas for something, no doubt, Malachi was sure. If he went home. But that wasn't enough to put him off. His dad could make him laugh like no one else; not even Harry. And things were all really grim around here, these days, with all the talk of the war beyond the walls and the increasing tension between the Houses – Gryffindor and Slytherin, especially – in light of that.

It sounded stupid and childish, but whatever fun and mischief he and Harry could get up to unleashed in the Castle for the holidays, he really just wanted to be with his dad. All this crap going on with Harry's family only made him want to go home even more.

But Malachi really wanted to be there for Harry, too. He had only told Malachi about everything that was going on and Malachi was the only one who could and would ever know, that Harry could stand to be around – so he claimed.

"It's fine," Harry shrugged, though he looked clearly disappointed at Malachi's lack of enthusiasm; "It was just an idea."

Malachi's eyes glanced in the direction of the top table, in the direction of their Defence Professor, and wasn't surprised to find his eyes upon them, with an expression of obvious concern.

Malachi quickly averted his eyes.

"Have you spoken to Professor Lupin again?"

"No. I don't want to talk to him."

"Maybe he'd stay for Christmas with you? It's better than going home to your Mum, right?"

"She'll probably just show up and drag me home, anyway."

"I don't know if you can stay without a parent's permission," Malachi pointed out, sure he'd seen as much on other kids' forms when they had opted to remain in the Castle for the holidays.

"Well, if she wants me home, then she will just have to come here and drag me back."

Malachi was pretty sure Harry meant it. That Mrs Potter would have to drag him from the Castle kicking and screaming, literally, if she wanted him home that year.

"Maybe my dad would let you come to mine?" Malachi suggested.

Harry looked at him, sharply; "Do you think he would?"

Malachi nodded, immediately, certain of his dad's cooperation – and that would surely solve both issues, allowing him to be there for both his dad and Harry; "Yeah! I'll owl him tonight and ask."

Professor McGonagall approached where they sat at the Slytherin table, before anything further could be said between them.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."

"Professor," Harry straightened – ever respectful in the presence of his Head of House – and gave a smile, though it was obviously forced.

"The Headmaster has asked that you go to his office; with due haste, if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh," Harry looked, first, surprised at the request, and then suspicious; "Uh. Can I ask why?"

"No, you may not," Professor McGonagall said, sharply, before giving a nod in the direction of the doors, and then head on by up to the table at the top of the room.

Harry shot Malachi a look, before he rolled his eyes; "Obviously Snape's been at him." He got to his feet; "Whatever."

Harry stormed off in the direction of the entrance doors with a glower.

The more Harry learned about Snape, the more he hated him.

He couldn't believe he'd actually gone to Dumbledore about what had happened that morning. At least, why else would he be called to the Headmaster's office, just hours after their confrontation – if it could even be labelled as such – while both Professors were peculiarly absent from the top table that day at lunch.

He did not want to see Snape.

He'd be quite happy if he never saw the man again for the rest of his life.

Harry wondered if Snape really hated him or if he actually liked him or if it had all just been part of the act, the way he had treated him – he had treated him in so many different, weird and wonderful ways, since Harry had known him that Harry wasn't sure which of the acts were even Snape's real face – and the only thing Harry was sure of, when it came to the man, was that he had been playing a game and playing Harry, all this time, and he had been made a complete fool of by him.

Harry spoke the password, before reluctantly climbing the spiral staircase, figuring he may as well just get this over with.

If Snape wanted Dumbledore there to chaperone their confrontation, fine.

Dumbledore, Harry was pretty sure, was one of the only people in the world who he could actually trust. A tiny list in his mind, now.

But it wasn't Snape who was waiting on the other side of the office door.

It wasn't even Dumbledore.

No.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Harry's eyes rested on the last person in the world he wanted to see; his mum.

"Harry."

Harry frowned, both baffled and horrified by the sight of her; "What…where's Professor Dumbledore?"

"I asked him if I could have a little while to speak to you."

It only took a second for it all to come back to him; the betrayal of it all. What his mum had done and how she had lied to him for years and had a whole other life that he wasn't even a part of.

"I don't want to talk to you," he bit out.

"Harry, we have to talk about this."

Harry shook his head, though the upset he felt bled into his voice the second time; "I don't want to talk to you, Mum."

"Please –"

"I did want to talk to you. All year," he went on, and he hated the way his voice shook a little, past his anger. He wanted to slam her for this, what she had done, but he realised he would sooner break down, himself, before he could do so; "Since last Christmas, remember? And you wouldn't talk to me about it. Well, now, maybe it's time you got to see what that feels like –"

"Harry, please, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But you have to listen."

Harry shook his head, releasing a breath of disbelief; "Ugh. Unbelievable."

"What is?"

"You," he said, his rage increasing, tenfold, at his mum's refusal to have any respect, at all, for what he wanted; "You never care what I want; you just say 'I'm Mum, so you have to do this, or think that, or believe this, or' whatever; I don't want to hear whatever you have to say because I know that whatever it is, it's just you trying to tell me that I'm wrong and you're right and that's that."

"Harry –"

"What? Even that's wrong, right?"

His mum reached up, brushing back the hair from her face, and when she did Harry caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and the glimpse of utter sadness and defeat in them, too, and then her voice, and how it shook:

"Please, Sweetheart, please just sit down."

And he couldn't hold onto the rage and hurt her, not intentionally, no matter how much she had hurt him.

Harry drew in a breath and then did as she asked, heading towards the couch at the side of the room, sitting down, and did his best not to tense when she sat down next to him; close enough that their legs touched.

They were quiet for a minute, as if his mum didn't quite know what to say. And Harry had no idea what to say, either, so he just kept schtum until she finally spoke.

"I'm not sure what your Uncle Remus told you – "

Harry looked at her, sharply; "Uncle Remus came to you about this?"

She frowned; "Yes."

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he glowered, darkly, at the new information;"Can't trust anyone around here."

"Of course, your Uncle Remus would come to me about this; how could he not? This is dangerous, Harry, and it's not something you could be expected to handle by yourself."

"Because I'm so dumb."

"It's not about intelligence or maturity or trust, Harry, this is about your safety. Yours and Grace's," his mum said, as if he were, indeed, stupid; "I told you, months ago, that it's not safe for you to know this information. Not for any of us."

"Yeah. Yeah, right. It's not safe. I get it. Snape's a spy – a Death Eater – and people would want him dead, and people want me dead, and people would get to Grace; I get it, okay," Harry hated how juvenile he sounded but if his mum was determined to treat him as a child, well, whatever; "What I don't get is why you even got together in the first place. What I don't get is why you picked him; why did you pick him over me?

"Harry, I never did that; I would never do that. Not for anyone. You and Grace, you come first, always."

"Oh, that's just…"

"Harry –"

Harry shook his head; "Tell me why? Why are you with him? Even if he wasn't a Death Eater or a spy or whatever he is; he'd still be a complete arse."

"You only think that because that's the way he has to be; it's part of –"

"The lie."

"Yes. Yes, alright. It's part of the role he has to play, to fight this war. For us. He does it for all of us."

Harry sighed, as his mum tried to redirect the conversation. Always pushing things away from her and the things that she did, and was doing, as if that would make him see and forgive what she had done.

"Mum, I don't care about Snape," Harry stated, with a shrug, no truer words spoken, ever. Snape was nothing to him; "I don't care why he does what he does or why he's treated me like crap – he's got a ton of reasons, and all of them I actually get. What I don't get is why did you do this?"

"What?"

"Why are you with him?"

His mum looked confused; as if the answer were obvious.

"Because…because I love him, Harry," she leaned forward, taking his hand; "But that doesn't, in any way, diminish or change how much I love you."

"People fall in love all the time; not everyone who love one another are together. Sometimes they can't be. You can't be. But instead of leaving him, you stuck around and just lied about it; to me. Your my mum, you're supposed to…"

"I know, Sweetheart."

Harry shook his head, hating that there were tears, now, threatening to fall, and he pulled his hand back from her, swiping, furiously, at the ones that had escaped and begun to run down his cheeks.

"Don't, okay. You wanted to talk, so talk."

His mum was looking at him carefully, as if she weren't sure that she should.

Harry wasn't going to let her off the hook. He just looked at her and waited. He had waited so long, what was a few more minutes of patience, after all.

His mum drew in a breath, finally speaking; "It was a long time ago. Before all of this; before Vo – before he fell – before he came for Sirius. Things were dangerous then, yes, but they were nothing like they are now. We couldn't have imagined that it would have ended up this way. But I promise you; we talked about this, about you, and it was always going to be us three. Always. He wanted you, both of us, and we would have had that."

"If not for Volde –"

"Don't say his name, Harry. Not now."

Harry looked away; "Right."

"When what happened, happened, we knew he would come back for you. We knew the best chance was for Severus to be where he was. It was the best chance at protecting you; at keeping you safe."

"And then you had Grace."

"Yes."

Harry considered the words; they were things he already knew; things he had already figured out, himself, based on what he had learned and what he had seen and the few bits of information his mum had given to him, that year.

"See, Mum, I get all that. I get why I couldn't know. I get why you kept it from me. Hell, I'd even get why you're still keeping all this from me now. But Grace…Mum, you had Grace and you had him and you lived together, the three of you, you were a family."

"The four of us are a family –"

"No we're not, Mum!" No way would Harry have that; that was bull; "You seriously expect me to think of Snape as family? What, were you really just going to wait until the end of the war and then bring him home and tell me, 'here, Harry, this is your new Daddy' who Grace already knows. That's crazy, Mum."

"Harry –"

"It wasn't Uncle Remus who told me. It was Grace. Grace told me. But you lied to me so much, you lied about her so much, that I've always thought she was stupid. That she was making up stories; that she was this crazy, little drama queen, and I loved her and, hell, I don't even know her at all. She's the most honest person I know, and I didn't even know it!"

"Sweetheart –"

"But it's not just that, Mum. It's not just that you had this whole other life and I was just expected to slot on back into it, when you decided the time was right. No. It's…it's you, Mum."

That was it. The truth of it, and what Harry only, just now, realised. It wasn't just that she – they all – had kept who Grace's father was from him. It wasn't that they had lied to him, seen only the Marked Boy, and refused to bring him into their circle of secrecy and trust that he would do anything – even die – if it meant it would keep his baby sister safe.

It was his mum.

It was all his mum.

"What do you mean?"

Harry drew in a breath, before he finally looked at her, properly, giving her a humourless smile; "I know you must think I'm really stupid. I mean, I'd have to be, to ignore what was right in front of me all this time. All that Grace was telling me; all the warnings you gave me; all the special attention Snape's been giving me – I know he's been trying to get me ready to fight, it all makes sense now. I get it."

His mum looked hopeful, for a minute. But Harry shook his head, knowing that things would never – could never – be the same between them. Not after this.

"But I remember everything from back then, too, you know. Before Grace. With Sirius. When you were never there and all you cared about was getting dad back. You were never happy. I remember wishing, so much, that you could find someone – anyone – if it just meant you'd be home and we could be a family. And that you and me, we could actually be together. And, then, you just stopped – like dad never existed, all of a sudden – and it was like we actually had that, and then you had Grace, and the three of us were so happy. You were so happy. And now I know the truth; it wasn't us that were the family. It you and Grace and him. Not me; never me. I have never been enough for you, Mum. Never."

His mum looked stricken.

"Harry, that's not true," her voice was a whisper. At first. A determination came over her and she grasped his hand in both of hers, speaking desperately; "That's not true. I know, I know why you must think that, but you have to understand; we never meant for it to be this way, we never thought it would go on this long; but it was always going to be the four of us. Always."

Harry shook his head, not angry anymore. Just sad. Broken. Like them.

"Not always, Mum. Not ever. Not now."

"Harry –"

"You'll get over it, Mum," Harry shrugged, getting to his feet; "You were never happy anyway until Snape came along."

"That's not –"

He turned to her, no going back now, and he hated this and he hated her for this. More, so much more, even, than Snape; "I hope you'll all be really, so, so happy, without me. At least now you don't have to feel guilty about not telling me. Or that you have to bother them thinking about me at all. If you ever did."

"Harry," his mum's voice broke.

Harry told himself he didn't care.

"Bye, Mum."

Harry didn't look back, as he walked from the room.