So Many Secrets.

The more whispers I hear, the more heads I want to smash against the stone pillars. 

Everyone thinks Severus is my dad. That's what they're all saying. Everyone. Even the seventh years won't stop talking about how I finally found a stupid replacement. 

I hate it. He's not my dad. My dad is dead. He always will be, and I can't just 'replace' him, even if I don't remember that much. He's my dad, Lily is my mum, and nothing can change that. Not even a piece of paper some idiot at the Ministry signed. 

"You just have to learn to block them out, mate," Neville says. "I know it sucks, but I have to do it."

"I try, believe me, it's just..."

"I know what it's like to not have parents, Harry, you know that. People are pricks..."

"Never heard you insult someone before, Nev."

"It's not an insult! It's the truth!" he defends, faking a frown. "Besides, with how much everyone insults us, we ought to be able to do it right back once in a while, right?"

"Right. HAve you finished the Transfiguration work yet?"

"Yeah, here. You do Potions?"

"Yep."

We trade so we can finish up our homework. The snow is starting to melt, finally, so we hope to go outside once we're done. Play in the puddles and the mud before we're too old to. 

That is until a Gryffindor fifth year slides on the bench across from us.

"So, is it true you're sleeping with Snape? Or is that just a rumor? I have a little bet with some friends."

"Excuse me?" Neville says. "What did you just say?"

"Well, he's in the man's office once a week. Just figured, maybe it's not a 'parental' thing. We all know Snape's a freak. Isn't it obvious?"

"No, it's not. He's actually pretty neat."

"Well, maybe he's doing you, too. With what happened to your mum and dad, wouldn't be a surprise for you to go after someone like that-"

My next move is to connect my fist with this idiots jaw, because even though he's at least four years older than me, no one says that. Not about NEville, not about his parents. 

"I knew it!"

You don't know anything.

I launch myself at him and it's a big mess of fists, floor, and blood, with a book here or there. Sorry, Madam Pince.

People are just gross. Severus doesn't... He wouldn't... I don't think he would do that. And he isn't doing it with me. DEfinitely not. Not. No. No. No.

Someone lifts me up by my robes, and I try to thrash out of their grip so I can finish what I started, but the grip is firm and won't let me go anywhere. A seventh year in Slytherin is holding the other kid. 

The king of all pricks. 

"What are you two doing!?"

Ah, Severus, lovely bloody time to show up.

"Just talking about how you do him and Longbottom, sir," the kid says, not giving a damn. "He just got pretty physical. Not a shock-"

"I'd hold my tongue before you're on the next train back to platform nine and three-quarters, boy. Potter, did you start this?"

"I threw the first punch at his no good face, sure."

"You boys are coming with me. Longbottom, you as well."