"I don't--"
"You do, every time you say James in reference to him."
"Well, that was his name, you know." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you sure I've been calling him that?"
"I've been meaning to speak to you about it."
That sounded sort of ominous. Maybe that explained why it felt a bit hard to breathe. "All right, I'll work on it."
The Potions Master lapsed into thought for a moment. "You seem to be caught an a dichotomy. But there's no need for one."
"Really?" Harry folded his arms in front of him. "It'd probably help if I told you I don't know that word."
A slow smile curled Snape's lips. "There's no need for you to make an either/or choice of father, Harry." His smile fading, Snape continued, "It occurs to me that you've been doing this all along. When the adoption first took place, you actually experienced guilt over agreeing."
Harry thought back. It seemed like a long time ago. A lifetime, but he could still remember. That awful clamping feeling like he was doing something wrong... visions of James Potter spinning 'round and 'round in his grave... Harry sighed. "I did think at one point that it was pretty disloyal to James... shite, you're right, I do call him that."
Snape took Harry's hands in his. "Say my father."
"Right." Words starting tumbling over his teeth as he tried to make sense of his own tangled feelings. "I know that by the time my father died you weren't horrible enemies any longer and you were on the same side and knew it and all that, but I still thought that if J... my father could see me signing on to be your son, he'd basically sick up. I needed the blood wards but I could hardly stand the thought of what I was doing..." When Harry thought back over what he'd said he could have cringed, but Snape merely looked at him with a steady black gaze and gave him time to work his way through it.
Harry didn't say anything else, though. He didn't know what to say.
"At some point your perceptions about being adopted changed," the Potions Master finally prompted.
"Hard to say when, exactly, but yes. Obviously." His throat felt dry, so Harry went over to the Floo to throw some powder in. "One Butterbeer." He belatedly threw a glance over his shoulder. "Do you want something?"
"Just for you to be at ease."
Talk about tall orders. Harry sat down with his drink and started nursing it. He wished it was later so he could claim to be sleepy and avoid this. Snape probably wouldn't buy that, though, not before lunch. Then again, he'd just let him have a Butterbeer before lunch. That was pretty interesting.
"So, you started off as my son feeling you had to stay loyal to your first father," Snape prompted. "I was aware of that, so don't feel you must spare my feelings, Harry. When did you start thinking that your loyalty was something to overcome?"
Harry's hand clenched on his glass. "I don't know. It's not like I woke up one day and decided. It just happened, bit by bit. I think maybe it started after that big fight we had. See, I realised that I really wanted you to be my father. And then... well I know he was fifteen and an idiot and all that, but it wasn't right, how he treated you in school. It was almost like saying my father was a slap in your face. Because you were the one who was being a father to me."
Snape frowned. "James was a father to you as well. A very good one, in fact."
Harry felt a bit ill but a big swallow of cold Butterbeer seemed to calm his stomach. "I know. Sort of. I mean, I have memories now, from Truthful Dreams. But it's like they're someone else's memories. I can remember dreaming them, but not them really happening. The dreams helped me at first. I felt so loved... but after a while I started thinking that it hadn't done me much good. I mean, he died and I was left with... well, you know. And I forgot about the love until I had you to show me with the potion that it had ever been there." Harry glanced up. "I owe it all to you, even the memories, that's all. I know you don't like me thanking you but honestly, I don't think you understand how much I appreciate everything. And then there was Draco saying Lucius instead of my father, you know, and it just seemed like... if he could move forward then why should I still be clinging onto the past?"
"Draco," Snape carefully said, "is trying to distance himself from his father, but there is no reason for you to feel ashamed of yours."
"But he was so awful to you," Harry protested, a thin film hazing the vision in his good eye. It went away when he blinked, so he told himself he wasn't crying, not really.
Snape waited until his son looked at him. "Your allegiance to me is impressive, and I do appreciate it, but you need to forgive your father, Harry. My old wounds no longer fester, as I told you... but it seems that you have taken them on yourself. My doing, likely. I vented my rage on an innocent child, simply because he was a reminder. I don't believe I have ever even apologised--"
"We're past that now," Harry quickly said. "It's all right."
"It was ill-done of me and I am in fact sorry." Snape brushed his long hair away from his face. "More than you can know, because I see now that my own displays of bitterness have led you to deny James. Back then, I wanted you to be ashamed of him. It was a way of getting back, that I could make his own son despise him. But you're the one I've hurt with my pettiness."
Harry rolled the empty glass between his palms. "I don't despise him. I just never have understood how he could be so mean. You didn't even do anything to him that day."
"What your father did is nothing to what I myself have done. How can you overlook crimes worthy of Azkaban yet resent James Potter's pranks? Draco has done worse to you, yet you've forgiven him."
"He hasn't spun me upside down so everybody can see my-- Sorry."
Snape ignored the reference. "He dressed as a Dementor, knowing full well that you might lose consciousness and fall from your broom while flying at high-velocity. That was worse. What he did to help Umbridge was worse. Attending Samhain eager to see you tortured was worse."
"He's probably awake and listening."
"Don't change the subject. James Potter was and is your father, and I do not expect to hear differently from your lips. And I am your father as well. There is no dichotomy and no competition. Is that clear?"
Harry nodded. Strange how it could feel good to be lectured, he thought. But it did. The tight knot of tension in his belly was easing some. Maybe it just came from knowing that Snape wanted what was best for him... that Snape could care enough about him to talk like this. The old wounds obviously had closed over. Harry hadn't really believed that before, not completely. But he could see now that it was true.
He nodded again, the gesture that time more definite, and told himself he'd try to notice if he said James again. So he could stop it. "Um, I actually was serious about Draco probably listening. He's not going to feel great that we were sitting out here discussing all his past mistakes."
"We were hardly doing that, but as it happens, the door is still warded from last night." Snape studied Harry, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "So, you never answered me. Shall we remove the hex on my trunk or would you rather it continue to stain prying hands?"
"No hex. Your initials alone should be enough to scare everybody off. Besides, it's not like the other Gryffindors would steal from me or anything."
"Very well, no hex. Go see if Draco is awake, Harry. After he's had breakfast we can all of us work together on removing the spells on the trunk."