Well, Harry couldn't have asked for a better segue, could he? "Um, that's pretty much why I didn't tell you, Professor. Because er . . ." Anger came roaring in to loosen his tongue. "Because right up until you decided to actually see me instead of James, you were the most biased professor the world had ever seen! You treated me worse than Umbridge! You--"
"I most certainly did not treat you worse than Umbridge! Show me a single scar I ever gave you, Harry!"
"Ha, I can't! And you want to know why I can't? They're inside! And those are worse!" Harry pulled in a breath so fast that it felt like his lungs were burning. "And I'd like to know why, anyway, everybody assumes that if I had a problem with a teacher I'd go whingeing on about it! I learned early on that there was no use complaining about you, didn't I?"
"Harry, I--"
But now that Harry had started to vent, he felt like a steam pipe that had split open. "I couldn't do anything right in your class, oh, but all of a sudden I'm your son and you can stand me, suddenly I'm a decent student! But no, for years and years before that, it's your potion is too thick Potter, start over when it looked exactly the same as ten other students' work! And that's when it wasn't what's the matter, does that scar go all the way down to brain? or do you need new glasses, Potter? Because you can't seem to see what's right in front of your nose, and accusing me of stealing all the time, too! And that's not even counting detentions! You gave me about five million detentions, every single one of them undeserved, and--"
"Every single one, Harry?"
The quiet question stopped Harry's tirade. "No, not every single one," he muttered. "Most of them, though. And before you pick apart the rest of my words, I guess there weren't five million. Don't you get it, though? I feel like there were!"
"Yes, I see that," murmured Snape. "I did in fact apologise for all this, if you recall."
"Yeah, I know." More exhausted now than angry, Harry put his head down on the table and piled his arms on top of his skull. "I guess I'm not . . . er, as over it as I used to think. And I think deep down I knew I wasn't, and the whole Aran thing just . . . I don't know. I wanted to handle it by myself. I'm used to handling arsehole teachers by myself. Oh . . . sorry, Professor."
"For calling me Professor or an arsehole?" Snape dryly asked.
Harry blearily looked up. "Dunno."
Snape laid his hands on the table, almost as though to reach for Harry, but after a moment's hesitation, ended up just lacing his fingers together. "Harry, I am most sincerely sorry I used Potions class as a means to torment you. I know it wasn't well done of me. I--"
"Ha, not just Potions," said Harry, sitting up again. "How about hallways and in the Great Hall too? You practically knocked my head into Ron's fourth year during homework time!"
"You were talking."
"Half the hall was talking! How many students did you attack?"
Attack was probably strong, Harry thought the moment he'd said it, but Snape didn't dispute the word. "Only you. How many apologies do you need?"
"Maybe I need you to write ten thousand times I will not torture my students," said Harry caustically. "No, considering what you assigned Ron, it ought to be more like, As I hold a position of . . . er, great responsibility over the lives and hearts of innocent children, I will earnestly endeavour to . . . uh, not sure. Something long-winded."
"You've very angry."
Harry stared. "Well, duh."
"You said to me at one point that that was all over."
"It is." Harry leaned back, wishing this wasn't so hard. "I mean, I know you won't treat me like that again. And I've even noticed how lately, you've been less totally unfair to Gryffindor. I guess because of what you said, how you can't love me and still hate Gryffindor, or at least not like you did before. I don't know why I let all the old stuff still bother me. I mean, as long as I didn't think about it, I was fine! But then Aran started his rubbish and I just kept remembering you dropping my assignment that time I was sure I'd brewed a perfect potion and . . ." Harry shrugged and looked away.
"You had just violated my memories, Harry," Snape reminded him.
For Snape to put those two things on a level made Harry see red. "Yeah, I had!" he said, his anger surging back so strongly that he heard himself yelling. "But it's hardly the same thing! I was fifteen -- how old were you, eh? Old enough to know better, you think? And I wasn't trying to find out about your private business, anyway! I just wanted to know about the secret weapon at the Ministry and I ended up seeing all that other stuff by accident! And I damned well kept it to myself. Even Draco doesn't know you were hoisted upside down by my father so the whole school could see your pants--"
"Yes, thank you for your discretion," Snape interrupted, his voice a little caustic. "I'm sure Draco will continue on in total ignorance of the event."
Harry felt his collar heating. What his father meant was that even if Draco wasn't trying to eavesdrop, which was pretty unlikely considering they were talking about Draco, there was no way he could have missed Harry's shouting. Defensive, Harry crossed his arms in front of him. "Well, anyway, what you did to my potion that day wasn't on accident or for a good reason or anything. It was just petty revenge."
"It was ill-done of me," agreed Snape. "Which I have said before, although perhaps not in reference to that specific event. What can I do about it now, though, Harry? It's done and I have apologised. Yet you still bear me ill-will?" His voice by the end sounded pained.
"Not ill-will exactly." Harry's arms fell to his sides as he met his father's gaze. "I love you a lot, Severus. I think you know that. And that . . . it hasn't changed or anything. But how you used to act . . . it still does bother me some, I guess."
"Shall I write you those ten thousand lines to prove I do indeed regret the past?"
Harry almost said yes, just for spite. Or maybe to see if Severus would actually do it. Though he was pretty sure Severus would cheat on them, anyway.
"No," he slowly said, resting his hands on the table again. "That's just going to . . . er, keep us stuck in the past all the more. And that's the whole point, Professor. I didn't come talk to you about Aran because I knew it would get messy. And I don't want the past to stand between us. I really like being your son and getting on with you and having a home besides the Tower and . . . all."
"I like having you for a son," said Snape gently. "And I'm very pleased to provide you with a home. Harry . . . until I began to truly know you, I was a seething mass of anger over wounds which should have healed long before. You bore the brunt of it. If I could go back and get to know you from the first, I would. But at that time, I simply was not capable, and for that I am most sincerely sorry."
Harry swallowed. "Yeah. I . . . uh, I actually was going to, er, bite the bullet and come talk to you about Aran on my own. I'd been putting it off because I didn't want to dredge all this up. I mean, I didn't want you to think I still hated you for all that stuff, 'cause I don't. Honestly! I guess it's better that we talked it all over."
"Definitely, that is better. Harry, if you have a serious problem with another teacher or anything else, I want you to come talk to me. Even if you think that so doing will hurt me. How else can I be your father?" Reaching across the table then, Snape clasped Harry's twitching fingers in his large, warm hands. "Though I will admit it buoys me to know that in the end, you were intending to bring this matter to my attention."