Chapter Seven -

Your gentle touch beguiles my senses

The room was spinning. Time seemed to slow down as if hindered by the oppressive strain of disquiet.

As the seconds ticked by, reluctant in their progression, Harry's gaze remained fixed on his future father's face while the sounds of Peter's mewls and whimpers melding with the urgent whispers from his fellow classmates assailed his ears.

Harry fought to control his encompassing panic, but a sudden wave of vertigo took hold of him, forcing him to clamp his eyelids together and shut out the distressing image of James' stunned expression. Concentrating on the simple act of taking in air, Harry breathed in and out, trying to find a steady rhythm, desperate to slow down his reeling brain.

What the hell was he going to do now?

There was no denying it this time; he had really screwed things up.

How could he have forgotten about the map?! It was one thing to blank out on Peter Pettigrew's miserable existence, but it was quite another to dismiss the one magical item that could be his own undoing. It had helped Harry more than once, uncovering Pettigrew's deception back in his third year and Barty Crouch Jr's the following year.

True, in both instances, the map had been confiscated before all the pieces of the puzzle were put together and the traitors exposed, but the artifact had divulged their secrets nonetheless. It had been key in identifying duplicity twice in his lifetime already!

And yet Harry had still managed to overlook its capability to reveal fraud… right at the moment when it was imperative that his own identity remained undercover.

It seemed unbelievable that he had not considered any of this earlier, or the fact that of course the Marauders would have the map with them. They had invented the damned thing, for God's sake!

Taking into consideration Harry's encounter with Sirius and James the other day, it was easy to understand how they could have become mistrustful of him. His taunting words of warning may have seemed innocuous at the time, but now he realized he had revealed too much. At that time, Harry had only hoped that his words might instill some fear in the truculent Gryffindors, enough to deter them from bullying Severus. To his chagrin, his impulsive chastisement had created suspicion instead, prompting James and Sirius to turn to the map and seek out the tiny dot labeled 'Gray Skye' in order to keep a watchful eye on him.

It might have been funny at another time, imagining the two Marauders huddled over the map for hours, scanning its surface in search of 'Gray Skye' and coming up empty handed, but Harry was in no mood to be amused.

His position now had turned very precarious.

"Mr. Skye! That abhorrent display will cost you one hundred points from Slytherin, and I will personally be escorting you to the Headmaster's office. I am sure Professor Dumbledore will be very interested to hear about your despicable behavior towards Mr. Pettigrew!"

In contrast to his usual squeaky lilt, Professor Flitwick's voice was now a lower and more threatening timbre.

Harry's eyes snapped open upon hearing the strong admonishment, his heart still clenched tight with fear, regret and mortification. Instead of seeking out the speaker, his grey eyes settled once again on the one person in the room whom it seemed was aware of Harry's true identity.

James returned Harry's stare with wide, ambivalent eyes, his mouth agape, shaking his head in astonishment. It looked as though reality had caught up with him. He swallowed and blinked several times, a trembling hand going up to his head and fingers raking through his unruly mop of raven hair in a nervous gesture. That familiar action was so reminiscent of Harry's own habitual move that he gasped at the sight.

Hazel eyes focused on grey ones again and then dropped their gaze downward to study the fallen parchment, its flamboyant title page lying out in the open, overt to any searching eye. In one swift motion, James bent down, retrieved it with a trembling hand and shoved it into the front pocket of his robes. His eyes darted back and forth, giving away his apprehension, as he scanned the classroom to be certain his covert action went unnoticed.

Despite Harry's and James' silent exchange and the latter's hasty act to conceal the map, Professor Flitwick paid them no mind, his irate scolding continuing as his fury escalated, while the other students stared at him, too shocked to even find amusement in the rare sight.

"…NEVER before have I witnessed such unprovoked violence in my class... such... such blatant disregard for school rules!"

At length, Professor Flitwick ended his tirade and swept over to where Peter lay curled up on the ground, quivering and whimpering. The crowd of students parted when he approached, backing away to give the man room as he knelt down beside Peter's prone form. Raising his wand, he gesticulated it in several elaborate movements above the student, muttering incantations under his breath.

After a tense moment, an audible sigh escaped the professor, relief evident on his flushed face. He stood up and turned to face James who was only now beginning to show a trace of color on his ashen cheeks.

"Mr. Potter, please help Mr. Pettigrew to the Hospital Wing. My diagnostic charms do not indicate any serious injury, however Madam Pomfrey will want to examine him herself. Take Mr. Black with you as well... it looks as though you both could use a Calming Draught."

James walked over to Peter as though in a fog, his motions autonomic, almost devoid of conscious control. He crouched down beside his sobbing friend and hooked his arm under the other boy's, hoisting him up.

This was the catalyst that seemed to rouse Sirius from his debilitating shock. All at once, his blank expression receded, replaced by one of determination. He went over to grab Peter's other arm and pull it around his shoulder for support.

Harry watched their slow progression out of the classroom, torn between regret and fury at the sight of the traitor being assisted by James and Sirius.

"Mr. Snape, Miss Evans, I am placing both of you in charge during my absence. I will return shortly. Class, you are to return to your practical assignment."

Severus' hands which were gripping Harry's shoulders from behind tightened their hold the instant Professor Flitwick called out those two names, before relaxing into forced calm. Harry did not miss the brief reaction, nor did he miss the sharp intake of breath drawn in at the words 'Miss Evans,' followed by its shaky release a split second later. For a moment, he wondered why Flitwick would call upon Severus to help Lily maintain order and then he remembered that Professor Slughorn had referred to him as a prefect during their introduction in the Slytherin common room.

Severus' constricting hold on Harry loosened just as a faint, yet urgent directive issued from his thin lips, edged with fear, "Stay away from Black, Gray. You are in danger. He will be out for revenge now..."

The words yanked Harry from his stupor, but left him feeling bewildered. Of course the remaining three Marauders would be furious about his unprovoked attack on Peter, but Severus' cautionary remark seemed so dire. Harry might have expected that level of warning had he just enraged a future Death Eater… but Sirius?

Before he could ask Severus what he meant, Harry's robe sleeve was grabbed by a fuming Professor Flitwick. The tiny professor tugged on his sleeve as he escorted Harry unceremoniously from the classroom and through the empty corridors toward the seventh floor.

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

The walk to the Headmaster's office had never seemed so lengthy, or so arduous. With each step, Harry's sense of foreboding deepened. Though it was apparent from Professor Flitwick's forcible exhalations and stern expression that his ire had not diminished, he said nothing to Harry as he ushered him through the empty halls leading to Dumbledore's office.

In the strained silence, Harry pondered the possible outcome of his inevitable conversation with the Headmaster. What worried him most was not the disappointment he was certain to encounter from Dumbledore, but the information he would end up divulging to him. Harry had known the Headmaster long enough to know that even if he was able to refrain from vocalizing his true reason for the attack, the elderly wizard was blessed with a keen enough insight to ascertain the truth.

Despite his goal to remain reticent, Harry knew he would have to offer Dumbledore some type of elucidation as to why he had attacked a defenseless student, especially one of his future father's best friends. It would be dangerous to disclose too much though since the Headmaster was not meant to know about the rat animagus' treachery yet.

Or was he?

Harry was struck anew by the breadth of deception the Headmaster had been successful in keeping quiet. The man had harbored more secrets in his lifetime than even Tom Riddle – huge, life-altering secrets, deceptions that could reshape wars, splinter trust, heal wounds and inspire devastation. Could this be just one more secret that he had succeeded in concealing all these years?

Was it possible that Dumbledore was aware that Peter Pettigrew had been the real traitor, the person responsible for James and Lily's deaths all along?

Sirius and Remus were both cognizant of the fact that someone close to Lily and James was duplicitous. Harry knew this to be true. He remembered both of them admitting during those tense moments in the Shrieking Shack at the end of Harry's third year that they each thought the other guilty of double-crossing.

Neither of them had suspected Peter at the time.

But what if someone else had?

"Ice Mice."

It seemed to Harry, lost in his thoughts, that the walk to Dumbledore's office had taken just seconds to traverse. His heart hammered in his chest upon hearing Flitwick utter the password, prompting the gargoyle to leap aside and allow them admittance onto the moving spiral staircase.

Harry took several deep breaths to assuage his growing panic as the platform revolved and ascended, each rotation bringing a sharper edge to his trepidation. He searched his memory frantically as they neared the large door, trying to recall any detail that could shed light on what was guesswork and what was fact, desperate now for some clue that would indicate whether the Headmaster had actually known that Peter was the Potters' traitorous friend.

All of a sudden a memory came back to him; a whispered conversation Harry had overheard four years ago while concealed beneath his invisibility cloak at the Three Broomsticks. He recalled hearing Professor McGonagall tell Madam Rosmerta that Dumbledore had urged James to use himself as their secret-keeper and not one of his friends.

Wait, that wasn't correct - not just one of his friends - specifically Sirius Black.

Dumbledore was suspicious of Sirius, not Peter, a fact which gave Harry pause as he pondered the significance of this insight. His intense contemplation only perplexed him further as he could not fathom why Dumbledore would end up suspecting Sirius in the future, when Harry's actions today should have cast doubt in the Headmaster's mind regarding Peter's loyalty, not Sirius.'

It just didn't make sense.

A reverberating sound of hard knuckles on solid wood, followed seconds later by the authoritative command of "Enter," ripped Harry from his introspection, slamming him back to his harsh reality. Panic that had receded with his thoughts surged back with a vengeance as Harry watched Professor Flitwick push open the heavy oak door and step inside.

"Headmaster, I'm very sorry to have come unannounced," Professor Flitwick prefaced upon entering, Harry following in his wake.

"Nonsense, Fillius, you are always welcome and… ah, Mr. Skye is here with you, I see. No trouble in your seventh-year Charms class, I hope?"

"Unfortunately, yes, Headmaster, there was. Mr. Skye has assaulted another student; the attack was quite brutal and absolutely unprovoked. Considering the severity of his infraction, I thought it best to let you deal with him."

"Yes. Thank you, Fillius. You may go."

Harry could feel the Headmaster's penetrating gaze on him, could almost detect the waves of displeasure radiating from the old man's cerulean eyes as Professor Flitwick left the office, but he could not bring himself to look up. He kept his attention on a dull, tattered crimson feather near one of the clawed feet of Dumbledore's desk; an ashy remnant from Fawkes' last burning day. Harry gazed at the frayed plume with unseeing eyes, his thoughts drifting back to Peter, and what Dumbledore would be able to decipher from their impending exchange.

It wasn't until he heard his long-time mentor clear his throat that Harry acquired the fortitude to look up and face the solemn, lined visage. Immediately, those searing, blue eyes seemed to penetrate his soul, fixing him with an impaling glare that was equal parts vexation and burning curiosity. The intensity of it made Harry's heart ache and his body tremble as he awaited the man's inevitable question. Although that fierce stare spoke volumes, the taut lips uttered only one word.

"Who?"

Swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, Harry met the Headmaster's disapproving stare head on and answered him, sounding every bit the courageous Gryffindor, his voice steady and unfaltering, despite his inner turmoil.

"Peter Pettigrew, sir."

The Headmaster's eyes narrowed as he contemplated Harry's answer. Leaning back in his chair with elbows finding respite on the armrests while the tips of long fingers met in a habitual steeple, he deepened his penetrating gaze into wide grey eyes, lengthening his focal point, infiltrating Harry's psyche… his mind… his very soul.

Harry flinched when he felt the subtle hint of intrusion, and almost without thought, closed his mind to further penetration. His own instinctual reaction surprised him as this was the first time he was ever successful in erecting a viable Occlumency shield. He had never been able to achieve one during those disastrous Occlumency lessons during fifth year with Professor Snape.

His shields were strong and unremitting, and Harry used them to push back against the Headmaster's probing mind. A small gasp issued from him as Dumbledore abandoned his search and withdrew from his mind. Shoulders slumping, Harry closed his stinging eyes and lowered his head, shaking it to make sense of his now muddled, disarranged thoughts. When he lifted his gaze to peer at Dumbledore again, he was surprised to see the hint of a smile on the older man's face.

"Occlumency, Gray? I must say that I am pleased to discover that your mind is properly protected. Am I to assume that I am the one to have taught you?"

"No, sir. Profe-… I mean… No, you asked someone else to teach me," Harry replied, chagrined at his near slip. He could discern by the Headmaster's attenuated eyes, and the long moment of silent repose stretching between them, that what little information he did offer, or rather his lack of information, was being filed away in the aged wizard's brain, stored in some deep recess of his mind for consideration later.

Harry took a deep breath and tried for a calm and reassuring tone.

"Professor Dumbledore, I can't tell you why I reacted the way I did when I saw Pettigrew this morning, but I can promise you, it won't happen again. And I am truly sorry for putting Professor Flitwick through that…"

"…but not Mr. Pettigrew?"

Harry hesitated, mouth dry, pulse racing again, searching his brain for the right words to explain his actions. In the end, he decided to answer in the only way he knew how… honestly… but void of details.

"No, sir. I'm not sorry for what I did to him, but I assure you, it won't happen again."

The Headmaster's eyes remained narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair, locking gazes with Harry once more. He spoke a single quiet request, one that both startled the younger wizard and eased his tension.

"Let me in, Harry."

Again, Harry felt a subtle nudge against the periphery of his mind. This time, he allowed the intrusion. Careful to focus on nothing but his desire to avoid another confrontation with Peter and achieve his goal of saving Severus, Harry took a few steady breaths and released them as flashes of his attack on Peter streamed past his consciousness in quick succession, slowing down at the images of Severus pulling him back and concluding with the Slytherin whispering his dire warning about Sirius.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied for he broke their connection and leaned back in his chair once more, a pensive look on his worn face as if reflecting on the images he had just witnessed. When he spoke again, he said nothing about the specifics of the attack or Severus' cautionary words, returning them to Harry's promise to avoid another confrontation with Peter.

"I believe that your wish to maintain your distance from Mr. Pettigrew and prevent this type of occurrence in the future is sincere, Gray. However…"

Dumbledore's brief pause was followed by a quick flourish of his wand and a fleeting pulse of blue light. As the blinding flash dissipated, a single piece of parchment materialized on the surface of Dumbledore's desk. Even upside down, the name 'Peter Pettigrew' stood out to Harry, written in red ink at the top. Craning his neck a bit, he saw that it was a course schedule.

"It looks as though it will not be possible for you to avoid Mr. Pettigrew's presence. He is enrolled in four of your classes: Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Astronomy. Avoidance will not be feasible… unless of course, you wish for me to change your schedule."

Harry brought his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it in agitation while he released an uneasy sigh. Yes, this would be difficult. Just the idea of seeing the rat traitor so often made him sick to his stomach, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't just opt to change his schedule. Severus was enrolled in these classes too, and the whole point of Harry's time here was to spend it with Severus and figure out how to ensure his survival twenty years from now.

Harry was not willing to sacrifice any time with Severus even if it meant enduring the presence of Pettigrew. Despite the pain and frustration it would cause him, Harry knew what he must do.

"No, professor. Please don't alter my schedule. I can do this. I can. You have my word," Harry asserted, "I... I just... I have to make sure I stay with..."

"...with Severus?" the Headmaster finished, his tone lighter and warmer than it had been, the alluring twinkle Harry was so accustomed to seeing permeating from the Headmaster's blue gaze emerging as he continued.

"Tell me, Gray... how are things going with the two of you?"

All at once, Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks. He lowered his head to conceal his fiery blush as his thoughts raced back to those fervent glances and soft caresses he had shared with Severus. Harry's throat felt dry and he swallowed hard to alleviate the parched, tight sensation.

After a long, awkward moment, he lifted his gaze and noted the Headmaster's amused visage, a silent observation that Harry had stayed silent for way too long.

"Oh... um... yes. It's going well. I mean, he... he doesn't... well, he doesn't hate me like I thought he might."

A hearty chortle escaped the wide grin stretching across the aged face, but Harry could tell Dumbledore was trying to hide his delight at his flustered response. He blushed even more when the Headmaster brought his hand up to his face, brushing the very tips of his long fingers across his upturned lips, as if trying to force his smile to ebb. When he lowered his hand, the grin had been replaced with a more somber expression.

"No, Gray, I never imagined he would hate you. Quite the opposite, actually. By now, I'm sure you have ascertained that Severus does not trust easily, but when he does, he is a very open and caring young man."

"Yes, sir. I do see that. It's just... surprising... I mean, he's so different than I expected," Harry explained.

"Different? What had you expected?" Dumbledore inquired, and Harry could see the plain, sincere look of interest radiating from those impassioned blue depths.

"Well... I... I..." Spluttering again, Harry grappled with his words, hoping to answer in a way that would not lead the Headmaster to any foregone conclusions about Severus' future allegiances, "It's just that I was lead to believe that Severus was interested in the Dark Arts in his youth... so I figured..."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore replied, "You believed Severus to still be... on the wrong side... so to speak."

"Yes, sir."

"Although it is true that Severus was most assuredly headed in that direction, as is the case of many of our Slytherin students, he has experienced a change of heart. He is no more a 'future Death Eater' than myself."

Those familiar words brought a sense of deja vu to Harry, making him shiver. How many times had he heard Dumbledore defend his Potions Master like this, to students and professors alike? While it was a relief to know that the adult Professor Snape had always been loyal to the Headmaster, it made Harry shudder to think how easily the Light could have been vanquished had the man placed his true allegiance with Voldemort instead. He felt cold at the thought and winced as the pangs of a headache started pulsing behind his eyes.

"Gray," Dumbledore voiced, pulling Harry from his distressing thoughts. "Have you asked Severus why he chose to abandon his desire to become a supporter of Voldemort?"

"No... no I haven't, actually," Harry muttered, wondering to himself why he hadn't asked Severus such a pertinent question.

A part of him did want to know what had caused Severus' perspective to change so much, especially since it was obvious that, at some point, his resolve to follow the Light would dissolve and Severus would revert back to his original aspiration to become a Death Eater. The reasons behind both abrupt changes were important, and Harry should have asked Severus – but he hadn't.

Harry exhaled and clamped his eyes shut. He brought both hands up to his now throbbing head, pressing his fingertips into his aching temples to soothe the gnawing pain. His brain felt heavy, burdened and overwhelmed, as if it had not had time to recover from the anxious tedium of the past year and the crushing stress of the past few days. What with insufficient sleep, unaccustomed long hours of study into the night and the sudden outburst of emotion at Pettigrew, Harry felt close to collapse right now.

"I think perhaps," the Headmaster announced, "it may be a good idea for you to forego the remainder of your morning schedule for today, Gray."

Dumbledore's voice came as though from far away. With difficulty, Harry opened his burning eyes.

The Headmaster summoned a potion vial from a nearby cabinet and handed it to Harry with an understanding smile. He walked around his desk and sat down on its edge beside Harry, watching him as he downed the entirety of the elixir.

Dumbledore took a deep breath before issuing his next directive.

"I suggest you go back to your dorm. I will inform your professors that you are too ill to attend the rest of your morning classes. Take this time to regroup, as it is obvious that you have been through much trauma this morning."

Nodding, Harry stood up on weak legs and lifted his head to meet the Headmaster's gaze once more.

"Thank you, sir."

He did not know what else to say.

"Gray, I do hope you realize that I will have to allow Professor Flitwick to assign punishment as he sees fit."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

With one final glance at the Headmaster's forlorn, sympathetic smile, Harry turned to go, catching a fleeting glimpse of scarlet as he exited the room. Fawkes' faint trill of despondency echoed in his ears as he closed the heavy oak door and began his descent down the spiral stairs.

Anxious to dive under the covers of his four-poster and lose himself in heavy slumber, Harry began his trek back to the dungeons at a hurried pace. The pounding in his head had receded somewhat thanks to that headache remedy, but his brain was still mired in confusing thoughts and unanswered questions.

Harry yearned to just forget about everything, at least for a while, and sleep until lunch. This morning had been an absolute disaster and he felt as though he had strength for nothing more.

Just as he had descended the third floor staircase and entered the narrow stretch of hallway which led to the Hospital Wing, a faint voice called out from a very close proximity. Its tone hesitant, uncertain.

"Harry."

Spinning around to find the source of the odd whisper, not even realizing that he was reacting to his given name, Harry answered in a hushed undertone, squinting his eyes and scanning the seemingly deserted corridor.

"Who – who's there...?"

The speaker was revealed a second later when a shaking hand emerged out of thin air and grabbed at something unseen. Silvery fabric shimmered into being and fell to the floor, revealing James Potter with his face pale and wan and his expression devoid of its usual brazenness.

Harry swallowed past the hard lump in his throat, but said nothing as he stared at the trembling boy, waiting for the inevitable.

"That is your real name, isn't it? Harry... Harry Potter?"

It had come to this. Harry had to make a decision here and now, there was nothing else for it. No one was around. He could draw his wand on James, attempt to Obliviate him. Harry had never cast an Obliviate before, but he was aware of the theory behind the spell and he had seen Hermione do it. If he used the Elder wand, he was sure he could manage it. A muscle in his right arm twitched as he contemplated reaching into his bag for the wand, but he halted its progress when James' next words fell from his lips.

"You're my... my son, aren't you?"

It was both a statement and a question, the words filled with hope and awe.

Harry released a huge breath he had been holding, and with it came a muffled whimper of anguish and relief, its liberation fostering a firm decisiveness.

No… he couldn't do it. He could not raise his wand to his future father and force him to forget what might very well be the only opportunity they would ever have to speak to one another alive.

My God! This man would sire him in just a few short years, help to bring him into this world. Then he would be murdered after spending just over a year with Harry, too short a time to form a real bond with his infant son.

How could Harry take away this memory from this man knowing what the future would bring?

His decision made, he answered James' timid question, his own voice trembling and cracking as he spoke.

"Yes. I'm your son."

James took a few steps closer to him, his eyes scanning every inch of him as he drew closer. When he was mere feet from Harry, he halted. He was close enough now that Harry could discern the myriad of emotions conflicting just beyond those wide, hazel eyes, his features portraying a dizzying jumble of confusion, anger, apprehension and hope.

James took in a huge breath and held it, then spoke again, his voice still faint, laden with emotion.

"You... you don't look like me. Are you...?"

"I do. I do look like you," Harry interjected, "I'm just... concealing my appearance while I'm here."

"Oh."

James dropped his gaze for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. When he lifted his eyes to focus on Harry once more, there was more than a trace of fury flashing in his narrowed eyes. His brow was furrowed, his features twisted, a scowl etched on his pale face.

"Why?" he asked, his voice stronger now, his tone terse and sharp.

"Why? You mean... why am I here?" Harry asked, confused about the vague question and sudden hostility radiating from the boy who had seemed so hesitant moments ago.

"Of course why are you here! Why everything! Why are you in Slytherin? Why did you attack Peter? And why the fuck are you best friends with Snivellus..."

"DON'T call him that," Harry warned. He was still bewildered by James' sudden change in behavior, but anger was beginning to build in the pit of his stomach again. His ire was short-lived though, its intensity diminishing when he noticed the emergence of tears in the corners of James' eyes and the softening of his features.

When James spoke again, there was such desperation, such pleading in his voice, Harry couldn't help but to feel sympathy for him, despite his frustration with the boy for his ignorance.

"Please... please explain this to me. I just... I just need to understand..."

"Yes, you do need to understand," Harry interrupted, an eerie sense of calm overtaking him as the words fell without effort from his quivering lips. "You need to understand that you are wrong, James. You are very wrong about Severus. He is not Dark. And he is not the person you should be concentrating your efforts on. At this very moment there is a wizard out there who is gathering strength, and he will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in the way of his rise to power. Are you listening to me? You need to stop this vendetta against Severus, let go of all these petty, meaningless adolescent grudges, and concern yourself with what is good in your life... what is most important... protecting your loved ones... You need to grow the hell up, James, and start making the right decisions... the right choices for the people you love... because you never know when you might... lose them."

The fragile shell of his calm had started to crack midway through his speech. Harry choked out the last two words, and was barely able to suppress the sob that was building deep in his throat.

Letting his gaze drop to the floor, he brought his hands up to his face, not surprised to find his cheeks wet with tears. As he wiped them away with trembling fingers, two gentle hands came to rest on both of his shoulders. Teary grey eyes locked with vitreous hazel ones and Harry was astonished to see the first real look of care and concern leveled at him by his future father, evidenced by the lone tear roving down James' cheek.

All at once, the pain and anguish he had been trying to restrain broke free. Feeling powerless to stop it, Harry gave into it as his weak legs folded beneath him and he fell to the floor, weeping with abandon. James dropped to the floor alongside of him, his hands never leaving Harry's shoulders as they fell.

"Harry... I'll stop, OK? I'll leave Snape alone. I promise. But what did you mean? What did you mean about losing the people I love?"

Harry averted his eyes from James' imploring, desperate look, squeezing them together to block out his terrified expression. He shook his head violently, more to entreat himself not to answer than as a reply to James' distressed question.

"No... I... no... I can't tell you anything else... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..." he choked out, his words hindered by anguished sobs and persistent gasps.

"OK. It's alright. You don't have to say anything else, OK? Just... let's just sit here for a while."

It would have been an odd sight to behold had anyone walked by; two students sitting side by side on the floor, one Gryffindor, one Slytherin, leaning against the cold stone wall in utter silence. As Harry tried to even out his erratic breathing and wipe away the lingering tears from his emotional outburst, James sat stock-still, staring at the floor with wide eyes.

Breathing in the calm and tranquility of the moment, Harry allowed the gravity of their conversation to permeate his spirit and attempted to wrap his brain around the last few minutes.

He knew he would not Obliviate James. He just could not do that to his own father, could never be so cruel as to take this moment away from him, from both of them. Which, of course, could only mean one thing; his father would remember this moment for the rest of his brief life. The words they spoke to each other today would stay with him from this point forward. Harry imagined them lingering in James' thoughts as he asks a beaming Lily to marry him, appearing in the forefront of his mind as his young wife gives birth to a tiny, raven-haired baby boy, tormenting him as he tries to keep his family safe from Voldemort's maniacal clutches.

Would James obsess over this conversation? Would he replay each word in his head over and over again searching for Harry's every meaning? Would he come to cherish this moment? Would it mean the world to him that his future son had tried to lead him down the right path?

One thing was for certain, Harry realized, still feeling half dazed. By revealing his true identity to his eighteen-year-old father, he had, without intending to, given James confirmation that his son would survive Voldemort's attack on the Potters. He wondered if James would share that fact with his wife. Would he comfort a distraught Lily Potter while holed up in Godric's Hollow by admitting to her that he had once had a conversation with an alive and healthy teenage Harry Potter? Would this allow his future parents to persevere in their darkest moments while hiding out from a madman?

"Harry... can I ask you something?"

James hesitant question splintered the heavy silence and pulled Harry from his reverie, the inquiry sounding louder than the speaker had intended in the wake of oppressive quietude.

"Yes. I'm not certain if I'll be able to give you an answer though," Harry replied.

"I just wanted to know... who is your mother?"

Harry turned to face James, smiling slightly at the nervous look in the other boy's eyes. James' yearning for confirmation that his one true love was actually his future wife and the mother of his child was obvious in his worried expression and the way his hands were twisting around one another in an agitated, restless manner.

"I have been told my whole life that I look exactly like my father," he told the anxious boy, "...except for my eyes. Everyone says that I have my mother's eyes."

Harry watched as James' eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing, his confusion evident as he waited for his future son to continue.

"Green. My eyes are a brilliant shade of emerald green, just like my mother's," he finished, his smile growing as he noticed James' unconcealed expression of joy and relief, new tears gathering in those hazel eyes as he breathed out a huge sigh. James' smile soon mimicked Harry's, their euphoric grins beaming as they gazed at one another.

All of a sudden, James blinked and sat up straight, eyes widening.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, shattering their brief contentment. He glanced at his watch and shot up off the floor in one rapid motion, "I have to go. It's almost ten o'clock! I'm supposed to be in Transfiguration in eight minutes, and McGonagall's already given me detention three times this term for being late. Are... are you in that class, too?"

"Yes, but Professor Dumbledore has told me not to go. I'm supposed to take the morning off to... uh... regroup," Harry responded while picking himself up off the dusty floor and straightening his robes.

"Oh, right. And I suppose you're not going to tell me what the hell that was all about, are you?" James asked, his voice laced with strain, irritation blatant on his features again.

"No. I'm not… I- I- can't tell you…" Harry answered, his heart breaking again, "But I can promise you that it won't happen again."

James said nothing, probably because he knew Harry would not divulge any more information. His only response was a small, curt nod, the tension in his face palpable, a mixture of anger and confusion contorting the features that had been so relaxed and at ease just a moment ago.

Harry turned to go, feeling troubled and sick to his stomach again, but turned back around when the Gryffindor called out to him.

"Harry... you realize that Sirius knows, right?" he said, a new emotion flitting across James' features as his gaze locked with Harry's again. Harry swallowed hard when he realized that what he was seeing on the Gryffindor's pale face was... fear.

"Yes, I saw him looking at the map," Harry answered, then waited, wondering where this was going.

"You should be careful," James whispered.

"What? What do you mean... be careful? Look, if he's seen the map then he's at least thinking that I'm related to you, right? So, just talk to him. Tell him... I don't know... tell him I'm a distant cousin of yours or something..."

"Harry. He knows. OK? He knows you're my son."

"But I..."

James heaved a huge sigh of frustration and interrupted Harry, plunging into a series of rambling, terse explanations.

"He knows... He knows that 'Harry' is the name I've picked for my son, alright? And he's not completely clueless. Those things you said to us on Sunday... about the Shrieking Shack... and you referred to us as the Marauders! You called him Padfoot and me Prongs! These are secrets we have never told anybody! Don't you see, Harry... he knows!"

"OK. Alright, I'll admit that this is not ideal, but... OK... so you both know who I am. Just... tell Sirius not to tell anybody..."

"You are not listening to me!" James looked like he was fighting with himself as he struggled to find his next words. He ran his fingers through his hair again, scratching his nails along his scalp, a habitual gesture Harry was quite familiar with having done the same thing countless times when consumed by panic.

"You... you just... need to be careful around Sirius, OK? Just... stay away from him and... keep Sniv- er, Snape away from him, too. Look, I have to go. I'm going to be late."

With that, James turned from him abruptly and hastened down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him as he went. Harry watched him go, stunned and perplexed by the strange turn their conversation had taken.

Had he just been warned for the second time this morning to be wary of his own godfather?

But... why?

Harry's stomach clenched and twisted once again, an ominous feeling of alarm gripping him as he made his way back to his dungeon dormitory.

Chapter End - TBC

A/N: I sincerely hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, despite its lack of Severus/Harry interaction. But don't worry, I am already hard at work on Chapter 8 which will feature some lovely moments between our favorite pair.

I have already been asked more than once... 'When will they kiss?'

Have no fear. It will be coming up soon... very soon. I promise. And I aspire to make it worth your wait!

A big thanks to my Beta, YenGirl, once again, for making this chapter much better than it would have been had she not helped me.

I'd also like to thank the thirty plus reviewers that have posted reviews since my last update. Your kind, encouraging comments mean the world to me. It was way more than I had expected, and I am very pleased that this story is becoming so well received.

Next chapter should be posted by Sept. 24th. So, stay tuned.

Please Review.