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Chapter Text

McGonagall wanted to go with him to retrieve Snape’s body. She’d seemed so earnest and remorseful, Harry couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, but she also couldn’t very well crawl with him through the tunnel to get to the Shrieking Shack. They’d had to go the long way around, through Hogsmeade, and thinking of all the things that could be happening to Snape’s body while they walked had had Harry clenching his teeth.

The Shack looked untouched though. At the very least the building wasn’t on fire, and Harry didn’t see any strange people hanging about, or any people at all.  

He pushed open the front door and the coppery tang of blood hit his nose. Snape in his robes was like a melted candle against the far wall. And there was so much blood, a huge, dark pool under his body. Harry couldn’t quite tell where the puddle started and Snape’s robes ended.

“Oh, Severus.” McGonagall moved towards the man. 

Harry wiped at his brow with the sleeve of his own filthy robes and followed. 

They knelt beside him. McGonagall reached out and brushed wayward strands of hair from Snape’s closed eyes. Harry watched her hand as it retreated back into her robes for her wand. “Let’s bring him home, Potter. I’ll cast the levitation spell, if you would, please, help direct the body.”

Harry nodded and began to shift Snape’s legs and straighten his torso. The weight of each of Snape’s legs, the firmness of his torso, threw Harry. He hadn’t expected Snape’s body to feel so real, he supposed. So human. 

Harry picked up the fallen hand closest to him and laid it gently over Snape’s chest. He leaned across the body to bring the other hand up to tuck beside the first, but as Harry’s fingers wrapped around Snape’s wrist the man’s hand twitched in his grip. Harry dropped it. 

“Professor, I- I think his hand moved.”

McGonagall went to lay fingers against Snape’s neck but halted. There was no clear spot to check for a pulse. Harry swallowed and laid his own shaking hand to Snape’s chest. A flicker, maybe. 

“I don’t-“ Harry shook his head. His eyes skated across Snape’s still face. Then he lifted the hand he’d just so carefully placed, bent over, and laid an ear against Snape’s sternum. And there, “Oh god. I think-” Harry’s breathing had gone funny, he was almost panting and he couldn’t hear over it. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and listened. And, yes, there, just there, was an unsteady, but present thump, thump. “Yes. Oh god. There’s a heartbeat.”

McGonagall said something, but Harry heard nothing except for the heart beating away beneath him. 

Fingers curled around Harry’s. He twisted his neck until he could watch as Snape’s blood-stained fingers tightened around his own. He’d moved the hand to listen to Snape’s heart, but he’d never released it. 

Harry lifted his head, shifting his body until he was looking down on Snape’s face, nose to nose. Snape’s eyes were moving behind the fragile lids, a slight left and right, back-and-forth movement. Slowly, the lids peeled apart, the lashes stuck together with the salt of tears and sweat. The dark eyes beneath were glazed and took a moment to focus, but once they did, they locked onto Harry’s. Snape’s lips parted and Harry bent closer and waited, wanting to hear whatever Snape would say, but only a wet breath forced its way out. 

“It’s okay, Professor,” Harry said and curled his own fingers more tightly around Snape’s. “We’re going to move you, okay?”

Harry and McGonagall gathered Snape’s legs and his arms carefully together before levitating his body and turning it so he moved head first out the Shack door. McGonagall’s wandwork was smooth and steady, but still Snape flinched. Harry brought his hands up, one on each side of the man’s face, hoping to support his ruined neck as he was jostled forward.

“We’re going to bring you back to the castle. It’s going to be okay.” It felt ridiculous, the inane chatter, but Snape kept looking at him, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “Someone there will help.” Harry watched him right back. “You’re going be okay. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry kept up a steady litany of reassurance until Snape’s eyelids fluttered shut and his mouth went slack and he lost consciousness once more.

******

Harry traced a vein on the back of Snape’s hand. 

The hospital wing at Hogwarts was empty, or he’d never have dared. 

Snape had lovely hands really. Harry had never bothered to notice before. They looked slight and delicate, clean, pale, but they were knuckly and calloused and long. They had a good inch on Harry’s, and the right one had a thick vein running down the back. 

Harry’s finger followed the vein up towards one knuckle and back down towards the wrist, pausing where it was most pronounced to feel the flutter of a pulse. Blood coursed there, warm and steady against Harry’s touch.

It’d been a week since he’d followed Snape’s floating body up to the hospital wing, a week since the Battle of Hogwarts, since he’d killed Voldemort.

"Still here, Mr. Potter?”

Harry pulled his hand into his lap as Madam Pomfrey went round to the opposite side of the bed. He nodded. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“So you’ve said.”

Harry pressed his lips together.

The mediwitch waved her wand over Snape. “And, as I’ve told you,” she continued while she watched spell light reveal the man’s vitals, “it will be quite some time yet.”

Harry nodded and laced his fingers together in his lap. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“I never implied your presence bothered me.” She smiled at him. “Not at all, Mr. Potter.”

Harry watched as she strode back to her office at the front of the wing. His hand snuck back to Snape’s and the flicker of blood beneath pale skin. It amazed Harry to think of Snape as something human. Something like him. He swallowed and ran his finger up and down the vein again. 

******

Ginny was warm. Too warm. 

Or maybe it was just Harry. No one else seemed so effected. 

He pulled at the collar of his shirt. Hermione’d told him he had to wear the button up for the funeral. Ginny pulled away as Harry tugged on the collar again. She glanced at him and then pressed her body back along Harry’s side and tightened her fingers around his.

Mr. Weasley stood in front of the small group gathered at the Burrow, thanking them all for paying their respects at the funeral and for joining them here for the reception after. Harry shifted, foot to foot, and yanked at his collar again. 

Hermione turned her head and whispered in Harry’s ear. “Stop fidgeting.”

Keeping his voice low and his eyes forward, Harry replied, “I can’t help it. I’m hot.” 

“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione clicked her tongue. “You’ve been a wizard for how long?”

Ginny made an amused noise, something between a snort and a chuckle, and nestled in closer. Harry blushed, though he imagined his face couldn’t get much redder, and cast a cooling charm.

Fred’s funeral was the first in a long line. He’d be attending one everyday this week. None of it felt real yet. Fred was gone. Remus was gone. Tonks. Colin. Lavender. 

But he was here. And so were Ron and Hermione. 

And Ginny. And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Teddy.

Snape. 

Harry planned to stay at the Burrow for now. Madam Pomfrey promised him that Snape would sleep through the week. It was a healing sleep. Snape had woken a few hours after he arrived at the hospital wing. His back had bowed off the bed and he’d screamed. Harry’d clutched at the man’s hand and said nonsense. A useless effort at calming him, telling him it was just the poison working its way out of his system, that Harry was there, that he’d be okay, he had to be okay. The wounds on his throat reopened and Harry sobbed and said more nonsense. 

Madam Pomfrey had put him under then. She said it would be better this way. He could sleep and heal. He wouldn’t feel the pain and he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

“Harry.” Kingsley pulled him from his thoughts. He stood in front of Harry with his hand stretched outward.

Harry took it. “Minister.” 

Kingsley smiled, sadly, putting the appropriate amount of pity in for such an occasion. He reached towards Ginny. “I am so sorry for your loss, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny sniffed and shook the hand. Kingsley moved over to Hermione and Ron. Harry unlaced his hand from Ginny’s and wrapped his arm around her waist. His fingers came to rest on the hipbone hidden beneath her black robes. He traced it for a moment before pulling away entirely. 

The reception was just what Harry expected, somber and sad. Painful. He stayed near Hermione and Ron and Ginny for the hours it lasted. People approached him, thanked him, gave condolences, but his friends’ presence acted as a buffer against anything more intrusive. 

Then everyone left and it was just them. The Weasleys and Harry and Hermione. 

Harry retreated to his bed. Well, his cot. The one set up in Ron’s room. Piled with faded quilts and fraying knitted blankets that smelled of cinnamon and dust. He laid his head on his pillow and turned on his side. He stared at the Cannons posters on the walls until his eyes lost focus and everything went blurry. He took his glasses off, tossing them on Ron’s side table so everything stayed that way. 

Ginny joined him as the light dulled, curling on her side in front of him, facing the same blurry wall, now a burnt orange in the fading daylight. He had no idea what to do with his hands. They hovered over a thigh, a hip, a shoulder, until finally Ginny grabbed his fingers and brought them to her stomach. He laced his finger through hers and buried his face in her hair as she cried. 

******

“You are coming to the Order meeting tonight, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said. 

Harry nodded and watched. McGonagall was brushing Snape’s hair. There was a spell for that, but she was doing it herself. She ran the comb through once more, patted down the flaring ends, and placed the brush back on the bedside table. 

“We may have to cut it soon,” she said. “It’s getting longer than I know he prefers.”

Harry swallowed and nodded again. He wasn’t agreeing with her. He had no idea how long Snape liked his hair. Snape’s hair was never a thing he paid attention to. Like the man’s hands, it was just another ambiguous part of him. Greasy, black, long. That was all that came to mind. It was still black, still long, but not greasy at the moment. Probably because Madam Pomfrey kept a clean hospital wing, including her patients. 

Harry wanted to reach out and touch it. Just to see.

He didn’t. McGonagall was there, sitting on the opposite side of the bed from Harry.

“I remember,” McGonagall said, “when he was small. Some students are simply,“ she looked at Harry, her brow rising, “smaller than others. And he was one of those tiny first years. They always have a harder time. And he was such a scraggly thing too.”  She sniffed. “Ah, well.”

Harry watched Snape’s chest rise and fall. It had been a month now since the final battle. Snape had slept through the funerals, through the beginnings of the Ministry restructuring, through the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Snape was going to wake up to a whole new world. 

“You know,” McGonagall continued, “he didn’t touch Albus’s rooms.”

Harry looked up.

“The quarters. They are exactly the same.” McGonagall met Harry’s eyes. “It eerie. Like a shrine.” 

The urge to reach for Snape’s hand was a force. Harry felt it in his shoulders, running down the length of his arms into his fingers. He needed. He clenched his fists into the fabric of his jeans. 

******

The Burrow was packed to the brim. Every chair at the kitchen table held a body. People lined the walls and filled empty spaces Harry didn’t know existed. The living room practically vibrated with all of the chatter. 

Harry and Ron sat on the second step of the stairs. Ginny and Hermione were tucked in just behind them. Neville, Dean, and Luna were standing in front of them, talking back and forth about something. 

Pomfrey sat at the kitchen table between Flitwick and some witch Harry didn’t recognize. Harry could see them through the gaps in the stair railing.

“Stop jiggling, Harry.” Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s shoulders. “You’re making me nauseous.”

Harry stilled his leg. He hadn’t even noticed it was fidgeting. “Sorry.”

“Most likely I will,” Hermione said. 

Harry sighed and ran a finger through the pale, sparse hair on one of Ginny’s arm. The cool touch of lips pressed to his ear.

Neville asked, “What about you then, Harry?” There was a tone there. Harry couldn’t place it, but it’d been there since the Battle and, honestly, Harry couldn’t be bothered to figure it out just now. 

Neville was different. He was bigger in every possible way. He took up more space in the room and Harry didn’t know quite what to make of it. Harry shook his head at Neville and asked, “What about me what?”

Neville glanced at Ginny and Ginny leaned away from Harry a bit. “Hogwarts, Harry,” she said. “Weren’t you listening?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Leave ‘im alone. He was off in his own world,” Ron said.

“I wasn’t.” Harry grunted. “I just..” 

“Wasn’t listening.”

“Very helpful, Ron.” Harry pursed his lips. “What about Hogwarts then?”

Neville, looking annoyed at having to repeat himself, asked again, “Are you going back, to complete your last year?” 

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it really.”

Ginny pressed closer against Harry. “We’d be in the same year if you went back. We all would.”

“That’s convinced me then,” Ron said. “Auror training it is.”

Ginny kicked him.

“Ow! Jeez, Gin.” Ron glowered at her and nestled further back between Hermione’s legs. 

“I don’t know.” Harry glanced back towards the kitchen. Flitwick had stood up and moved off somewhere, leaving the seat next to Pomfrey free. Harry stood up, pulling out of Ginny’s loose hold. 

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked.

“I’ll be right back.” Harry threw over his shoulder. 

He apologized as he pushed past people, tripping over the folds of a someone’s thick cloak and stumbling into a witch holding a cup of tea. He needed to get to the chair before someone else snatched it up.

He was out of breath when he finally plopped himself down and greeted the mediwitch. “Madam Pomfrey.”

“Mr. Potter.” Harry could have sworn there was a tone there too. He was pretty sure he knew what this one was though: annoyance. 

“Sorry, I just, I was surprised to see you here.”

“Were you?” Madam Pomfrey arched an eyebrow. “I am an Order member. A long standing one.”

“No, no, I’m sure you are. I was just, I was wondering who was watching over, you know, Hogwarts, over Snape, if you and Professor McGonagall and everyone are here.”

Her eyes searched Harry’s. “He is perfectly alright, Harry. Fast asleep, just as you left him an hour ago.”

“I know, but-“

“The school is warded. So is the hospital wing.”

Harry swallowed. “Okay.” Harry settled back in his chair. He drummed his fingers on the table. “So he’s alone there?”

“No, I left my own personal house elf watching the hospital wing. I assure you, Severus is fine. And he will not waken.”

Harry nodded. 

There were so many people in this room, this house. Someone behind him, Fleur it turned out, clocked him right in the head with her handbag. There was no way this was an efficient way for the Order to meet. Had they been squishing in spaces like this for the whole last year?

Harry rubbed the back of his head and scooted his chair in until his belly pressed against the table. “Maybe I should go. Just be with him.”

Pomfrey’s eyes were on him; Harry felt them and the judgment behind them. “It’s warded, Mr. Potter.” 

“Against me?”

“Against all entry until Minerva returns.”

“Oh.” Harry looked at the clock on the wall. “Wasn’t this supposed to start already?”

A group of people across the table pulled Pomfrey’s attention away. Harry had no interest in what they were talking about. He looked over to the stairs. Neville had sat down in his place and Ginny was plaiting his hair. Dean and Ron were laughing about something. 

Kingsley emerged from the crowd gathered by the sink and smiled at Harry as he raised his wand to his own throat. “If we could all gather closer to the kitchen here. I am pleased so many of you could attend tonight.”

The crowd shuffled around them. Harry heard something fall and break. Mrs. Weasley looked quite concerned and dashed off in the direction of the sound. 

When everyone seemed to settle Kingsley continued, “Lovely, lovely. We have grown so numerous.” Kingsley grinned and the crowd whooped. The corner of Harry’s mouth tugged upward as he glanced around at the room full of strangers. “We will need a new meeting place. Perhaps Hogwarts next time.” Another cheer went up. “Which brings us to the update stage of our meeting. Minerva, if you would.” 

McGonagall gave a short speech. Hogwarts was on track to reopen in September. Something was said about staffing and curriculum. McGonagall was the new Headmistress; Flitwick was her Deputy. Harry looked at the clock. 

Someone from the MLE spoke about what was left of the Death Eaters. Harry’s brow wrinkled. He hadn’t even thought about the remnants of Voldemort’s ranks. He shifted in his seat and glanced back at Ron and Hermione. Hermione met his eyes. The Auror, Harry was pretty sure he was an Auror, gave an approximation of how many were out there in hiding. 12-20, was the MLE’s official guess. 

“They are staying pretty low at the moment, committing petty offenses. They’ve defaced the Potter statue in Godric’s Hollow, we believe they torched Snape’s house, and they are likely responsible for a string of robberies in Sussex.”

Snape had a house? Well, of course, he had a house. That made sense.

Someone asked about the robberies. The Auror talked about staffing and cleaning out questionable recruits. Harry looked at the clock. 

Kingsley was up next. Harry paid just enough attention to gather the gist of it. Kingsley had been appointed acting Minister; Harry already knew that. An election would happen in the fall to-  fingers crossed- make it official. Something about a budget and reparations. Azkaban staffing. 

A whole new world. 

“Anything you’d like to add, Potter?”

Harry looked at Kingsley, then he looked around the room at dozens and dozens of expectant faces. He looked back at Kingsley and asked, “Ah, sorry, what?”

“Do you have anything to add, to the meeting?” Kingsley gave an encouraging smile.

Did he? Should he have? “Um, no, I don’t think so.”

Kingsley kept looking at him. Everyone was looking at him. Harry glanced back over to Hermione. She met his eyes again. He could see the gears turning in her head. 

“Alright, then, Potter.” Kingsley nodded. He opened his mouth to continue, but then something did occur to Harry. 

“Actually,” Harry stood, “I do have something.”

Kingsley gestured for him to continue. 

“I want to clear Snape’s name.”

There was scattered muttering, of course. 

Kingsley’s brow contracted, “Clear Snape?”

“Well, the Ministry. I want the Ministry to clear Snape. Completely.”

“He murdered Dumbledore,” the bloke from the MLE, the Auror, said. “The people won’t forget.”

"I don’t give a rat’s arse about the people. They’d all still be cowering in fear from Voldemort if not for Snape.” 

The muttering grew louder.

“We’ve all read the story you gave the paper, Potter,” Kingsley held up a hand to silence the room. “You are asking for a full pardon.”

“Okay. Yes. A full pardon. His actions must fall under some acts of war clause or something. He was only doing what Dumbledore told him to do.”

“What about after he killed Dumbledore?” That Auror bloke spoke up again.

Harry scowled at him. “After? Then he continued to help me, us, of his own free will. Of his own-“ Harry swallowed and licked his lips. “I could never have defeated Voldemort without Snape. Never. We are all here right now because of him. He is a hero.”

There was still murmuring hear and there. But this may have been the quietest the room had been all night. Harry looked at the clock. 

“I will look into it, Potter,” Kingsley finally said, nodding. “Anything else?”

“No. That’s all I have.” Harry sat back down. Pomfrey placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

There wasn’t any more updates it seemed, so Kingsley moved onto new business. Harry listened with half an ear. He didn’t know most of these people. And he hadn’t heard about most of their issues. He had no idea what most of them were talking about. He glanced back at Ron and Hermione and the rest of them a few times. Hermione looked to be soaking in everything like a sponge, Ron looked ready to fall asleep. Ginny met his eyes a few times and smiled, Harry returned each one.

Things wrapped up and Mrs. Weasley offered tea and coffee for anyone who wished. Harry found McGonagall in the crowd and moved towards her. She was already deep in conversation with two witches and a wizard, none of whom Harry recognized. Harry didn’t interrupt; he just stayed nearby, waiting. And that’s where Ginny found him. 

“You staying?” She smiled and took Harry’s hands in hers. 

Harry squeezed her hands. “No. I’m going back to Hogwarts with McGonagall and Pomfrey.”

Ginny reared back, like she’d been slapped. “Why?”

Harry, boggled by her reaction, answered, “I just need to see something.”

“Snape.”

“Yeah, Snape.”

“He’s awake then?”

“No.”

“So you have to go and sit and watch him sleep.”

“Well, no, I don’t have to.”

Ginny’s face scrunched up and she shook her head.

“I mean. I’m not. I’m not going to just watch him sleep.” Not the whole time. Hermione had loaned him a pile of books. Honestly, he spent most of his time reading.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t need to. There’s nothing to understand. He needs someone there. He’s-“

“He needs someone?” Ginny cocked her head. 

Harry turned his head and pressed his lips together.

“Snape doesn’t need anyone, Harry. He’s Snape.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked at the ground. “Yeah, I know.”

She was quiet so long Harry finally looked up. Ginny searched his face. Then she firmed up her grip and pulled Harry closer. “I miss you, you know.”

“I miss you too, Gin.” 

Ginny pulled him in for a hug. Harry gladly returned it. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw McGonagall walk away, heading for the door. He pulled out of the hug and moved to follow her. Ginny grabbed his elbow and yanked him back. 

“Gin. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

Harry gently pulled free. Ginny let him.

Harry made it out the back door in time to catch McGonagall. Flitwick and Pomfrey were standing just inside the wards waiting for her. 

“Joining us again, Potter?” Flitwick smiled as Harry jogged to a halt beside them.

He smiled back. “Yeah.”

They all twisted away together and landed at the gates of Hogwarts with one loud pop. McGonagall loosened the wards and they all crossed the grounds to the entrance. Once inside, Flickwick and McGonagall headed up on staircase and Harry and Madam Pomfrey another. 

“It’s very late, Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey said as they climbed the stairs. 

Harry nodded.

“I think he’ll wake soon.” She added as they reached the first floor and made for the infirmary. “Sometime this week.”

Harry’s heart beat picked up speed. “Great.”

“Perhaps you will feel better then.”

Harry’s brow furrowed and he smiled. “I feel fine.” 

Pomfrey looked him up and down and then opened the doors to the hospital wing.

Snape was exactly where he’d left him. Harry settled into his chair. Pomfrey waved her wand over his body and the lights with Snape’s vitals flashed past, painting a rainbow on Snape’s pale skin.

“See, Mr. Potter. Absolutely fine.”

Harry smiled and nodded. 

“I’m off to bed then.”

“Of course. Good night, Madam Pomfrey.”

She nodded, lingered a moment, but then disappeared into her office. Harry had guessed ages ago that the entry to her quarters was somewhere in there. 

Harry scooted his chair closer, until his knees touched the side of the bed. Then he picked up the delicate hand and ran a finger down the pulsing vein. 

******

“Ron and I are leaving for Australia tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s great.” Harry said. “Good luck.”

Hermione nodded. She’d pulled a chair up beside Harry, at Snape’s bedside. 

Snape slept on. Madam Pomfrey had changed the sheets, given the man a wash and a new set of pyjamas that morning. Everything had that smell particular to Wizarding hospitals. Powdery and herbal.

“You could come if you like.”

Harry scoffed. “I’d rather not be a third wheel there, thanks.”

“Right.”

Harry turned in time to catch her cheeks pink. He smiled. “Just enjoy yourself. As much as you can. Well, maybe not as much as you can.”

Hermione chuckled. “Of course not.”

Their eyes met and they smiled. 

Snape’s hand twitched and Harry’s attention shifted. Harry resisted reaching for the trembling fingers. “Madam Pomfrey says he should be awake by the end of the week.”

“That’s fantastic. Truly.”

“Yeah. I think so too.”

He had also decided it was terrifying. Snape’s hand stilled again. He’d been having these little random bouts of movement in the last few days. The first time it had happened Harry had been holding his hand. He’d leapt from his seat, clutching Snape’s hand, and leaned right over Snape’s prone form. He’d hovered a breath’s space above the man’s nose and whispered his name, over and over again. 

When Snape’s eyes didn’t pop open, when he didn’t reach for Harry’s throat and scream about liberties taken, Harry had called for Pomfrey, rather frantically actually. That’s when Harry had been informed about these little signs. Snape’s body was slowly waking. His hands moved, his face twitched, his eyes shifted beneath their lids. 

Harry was thankful for the false start. He hoped to be much cooler, much more in control, when Snape opened his eyes for the first time. And he hoped not to be holding the man’s hand. 

“How are you, Harry?”

“Ah, fine.” Harry looked askew at her. “Thanks. How are you?”

Hermione reached out and rubbed a bit of the pressed, white sheet between her fingers. “Not great, actually.”

Harry turned his head. “Oh. Um. Are you worried about your parents? I’m sure-”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean.” She plucked at the sheet again. “I’ve been having a terrible time sleeping.”

Harry nodded.

“I have these nightmares. It’s like I’m back there, at Malfoy Manor. And I scream for someone, anyone.” Hermione let go of the sheet and looked at Harry. “I’m so tired.” She smiled, a small, watery one. “Ron too.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled sadly back. “Loads of people probably have dreams after. After everything, you know. You could ask Madam Pomfrey for some Dreamless Sleep.”

“I know.” Hermione’s brow furrowed. She shook her head and looked at Snape. 

Harry looked back at Snape too. The steady up and down of his chest. The way his hair flared against the thin white pillow beneath his head. The pink scar tissue that lined his neck. The flicker of his dark lashes against his pale skin as his eyes shifted around with his own dreams. “Do you think Snape is having nightmares? Do people in comas have nightmares?”

Hermione was quiet a moment. “He likely saw terrible things. He did terrible things.”

“For Dumbledore.”

“Yes. I am only saying that I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Have nightmares I mean.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.”

“Do you sleep here, Harry?” Hermione gestured around the room. “Like, here, in the infirmary.”

“Yeah.” Harry pointed to a bed nearby. “Right there.”

Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Madam Pomfrey doesn’t mind. She says she doesn’t.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“You know the Weasleys would love to have you.”

“I know.” 

Hermione nodded. “If, if you want, I could tell Ginny that you want some space and I could bunk in with her.”

“I’m not avoiding Ginny, Hermione. I’m not avoiding anyone. I want to be here. For when Snape wakes up.”

“Okay, Harry. Okay.” Hermione turned in her chair and reached for Harry’s arm. “I only want, I want to be sure you know-”

“I know. I do. I promise.”

Hermione nodded, gave Harry’s arm a squeeze, and stood up. “I should go.”

Harry stood, knowing a hug was required. He smiled and opened his arms. 

“We should be back before your birthday.” Hermione pulled back, but her hands stayed on his shoulders and squeezed. “All the Weasleys miss you. We are all here for you.”

Harry swallowed and nodded. 

Hermione smiled, gathered up her things, and left. 

Harry took his place back at Snape’s bedside. Snape’s hand spasmed and his fingers flexed. Harry scooped it up between his hands. He inched forward and let his his elbows rest on the bed near Snape’s rising and falling ribcage. The fingers curled around Harry’s and stilled.

Chapter Text

People in real life didn’t wake from comas like they did on the telly or in movies. Harry’d only been allowed to watch a few things like that, but in films the patient had always opened their eyes, looked around, eyelashes aflutter, until they landed on a familiar face, and then they started talking. There was a big weepy reunion scene with all of their loved ones standing around the hospital bed.

Reality turned out to be much less dramatic. 

Snape opened his eyes at the end of June. Harry was eating lunch, hands wrapped around a ham and cheese toastie, when he glanced up and found dark eyes watching him chew. Snape’s eyes drifted shut and then opened, finding Harry’s again.

Harry’s mouth fell open and he dropped his sandwich. “Snape. Professor. Oh my god, sir.” Harry stood and his chair screeched against the stone floor. The eyes followed him. “Are you-? Right, no. I’m going to get Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey.” Snape only watched. Harry shouted. “Madam Pomfrey!” The eyes closed again. “Wait, no, Snape.”

Harry dashed forward and touched Snape’s hands with his fingertips, but yanked them back when Snape’s eyelids lifted again.

Then, in a rustle of fabric, Madam Pomfrey was there brushing Harry aside. She waved her wand over Snape’s head and made spell light dance against his pale skin. She watched it a moment, murmuring to herself as she interpreted it, and then said, “Very good. Can you turn your head for me, Severus?”

Snape blinked, locked focus on Harry for another moment, and then rolled his head. He moaned and his fingers dug into the sheets. 

“That’s good, Severus. There will be some pain, but you are healing nicely. Very nicely, indeed.” She walked to the foot of Snape’s bed to write something in the chart dangling there and Harry stepped back into his place at Snape’s side.

Snape’s turned his face to the ceiling, his breath panting out his nose. His eyes shifted back to Harry. Harry smiled with one side of his mouth, then chewed on his bottom lip. Snape watched his mouth work, his eyes slowly glazing over and losing focus before drifting shut.  

When they didn’t open again, Harry did reach out and pick up Snape’s hand. “Snape?” Harry ran his thumb over the back of the man’s hand. Snape’s eyes stayed closed and still. Harry looked at Pomfrey. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Yes. Perfectly all right. It’s normal for patients to wake for only short periods of time in the beginning.”

Harry nodded and he blew out a breath. “But this is a good sign?”

“Yes.” She summoned a tray of Potions over to the bedside table. She sorted them and began to spell them into Snape’s system. She smiled at Harry. “Absolutely a good sign.” 

Harry took a step back, eyes never leaving Snape’s closed ones. He let go of Snape’s hand and reached for the chair to pull it back up into place. Harry sat down. He was shifting and settling back in when his foot landed and squished into something. Harry reached down and peeled his forgotten toastie from the heel of his trainer. “I’ll just, um, just ask the elves for another lunch, I think.”

Madam Pomfrey raised a single eyebrow, gave Snape’s shoulder a pat, and returned to her office. 

******

The next time Snape woke up went about the same. His eyes had more focus, more life, and he coughed once, a dry, raspy sound, but he still didn’t say a word and fell back asleep before Harry could even offer him a drink. 

The third time, Harry had a glass of cool water waiting. Snape even managed a few sips through a straw Madam Pomfrey had provided. His eyes followed Harry’s every movement before sliding shut once more. 

The fourth time Madam Pomfrey was there, asking him this and that. His eyes never left Harry and he didn’t answer a single one of Pomfrey’s questions. Then he again did that slow blink as his eyes unfocused and he fell back to sleep.

The fifth time, though, he stayed awake long enough to drink some water and to have Madam Pomfrey check him over and flash a bit of wand light in each of his eyes. He listened to Harry bang on about what the house elves had made for breakfast and what he hoped they were bringing for dinner. Snape stayed quiet through Harry’s one-sided lament about the weather. When Harry apologized for how scratchy the sheets in the hospital wing always were, Madam Pomfrey glared at him and bustled off to her office. Harry had turned to watch her and when he looked back at Snape, the man was out again. 

The sixth time Snape stayed awake for two hours. Harry started to update him on the reconstruction, but kept having to go back to fill Snape in on things that had happened during Harry’s year on the run and during the Battle, and so finally Harry decided to just start at the beginning. Harry talked about the prophecy, about Dumbledore’s mission for him, about horcruxes, about the connection between himself and Voldemort, about the Battle, about the Order, and his pardon. Snape made little noises here and there. He grunted annoyance when Harry told him he’d forgotten to take the locket off before jumping in the pond. He rolled his eyes at Harry’s parting words to Voldemort. He sighed and closed his eyes after Harry told him he’d asked Kingsley for a full pardon. 

Seven days after first opening his eyes, Snape sat up. Madam Pomfrey spelled up some barrier rails to attach to the bed, she plumped up a few pillows under his arms and behind his back, and adjusted the bed so it would rise to an incline behind him. Snape didn’t look particularly happy about the change, but he didn’t look unhappy either. He looked tired. His posture loose in a very un-Snape like way and his eyelids puffy and fluttery. Harry pulled out the Daily Prophet and read an article about the reopening of Ollivander’s, then one about a dragon infestation in the American southwest. Snape grunted and closed his eyes when Harry finished. They didn’t open again that day.

The next day, over breakfast of toast and eggs, an owl swooped into the infirmary with a letter for Harry from Kingsley. It said the Death Eater trials were set to start in August. Snape’s case would be evaluated in the next few weeks and charges would be dropped or filed. 

Harry looked up at Snape, fast asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Harry bit his bottom lip and resisted reaching out to grab the man’s hand. He hadn’t realized how much of a habit it had become until he’d repeatedly had to stop himself from doing it over the last week. 

Kingsley also let Harry know they’d caught another Death Eater, one whose name Harry didn’t recognize, and he asked about Harry’s plans for the rest of the summer. Harry stuffed the missive into his robe pocket and went back to his breakfast. 

Later that day, Harry had one of the hobbit books open in his lap. The books were part of the stack Hermione had left with him. They were well worn and smelled a little like Hermione’s perfume. The hobbits in the one Harry was reading were still walking to Mordor; it was taking them forever. Harry bent forward and laid an elbow next to Snape’s hand and propped his head up on his fist and continued reading. He’d already finished the first one, with Bilbo and the dragon. 

In a move completely lacking in subtlety, Hermione had mixed some self-help books into the stack. Harry firmly ignored those. The books with elves and dwarves and dragons were much better. If only they’d bloody well get somewhere already.

Harry yawned and let his eyes close. 

“Potter.”

The voice was raspy, but so obviously Snape’s. Harry’s mouth split in a grin before his eyes opened and he sat up. 

“Professor.”

Snape swallowed, his face creasing with the effort. Harry stood to fill the glass they kept on his bedside table. Harry laid his book next to the flask the house elves had taken to keeping filled with fresh water. 

“Do you want me to sit you up like we did yesterday?” Harry plunked the straw into the glass. 

Snape began to nod, winced, and simply said, “Yes.”

He went about the task, using the spells he’d heard Pomfrey use. When Snape was finally settled, he sighed and closed his eyes, but then he opened them again. Relief filled Harry and he held the glass out for him to drink from. Snape’s hand flexed against the sheets before he lifted his arm to help Harry hold the glass. The effort didn’t last more than moment before Snape’s hand fell to his lap. His nostrils flared, but he didn’t try to lift the arm again.

“I’d thought perhaps,” Harry chuckled awkwardly, “Perhaps you couldn’t speak any longer.”

Snape made a humming noise. Harry put the glass down on the bedside table and then took up his seat again. Harry rubbed his hands up and down the length of his thighs. Snape turned his head to watch impassively. Harry’s tongue darted across his bottom lip. Snape’s eyes closed.

“Would you like for me to read to you again, sir?” Harry said. “I have today’s paper here somewhere. Or I have books. Loads of books.”

Snape’s eyes stayed closed. His breathing seemed to be steadying. Harry watched his chest rise and fall and he swallowed. “Um. Madam Pomfrey said you could start on a liquid diet, like broths and jelly.”

Snape sighed and opened his eyes; they were directed towards the ceiling. Snape said, “Not especially hungry.” Said was too strong a word. The sentence had gusted out of Snape on a strong exhale. And so raspy, like the words had climbed a jagged mountainside to make their way out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “The nutrient potion always makes the stomach feel weirdly full.”

Snape turned his head, flinched, and said, “I know.”

“Right. Potions Master.” Harry smiled, awkwardly, and clenched his fists.

Snape watched Harry, his brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. Harry’s pulse kicked up, expecting a firm dismissal from Snape’s bedside. Maybe a few scathing words.

But then Madam Pomfrey walked through the infirmary door and made straight for them. Harry forced a smile and watched her round the bed to Snape’s other side.

“Awake again, hm?” She smiled. “And how are we feeling?”

Snape’s eyes pulled away from Harry and he turned his head towards the mediwitch. He pulled a breath in through his nose and answered, “Tired.”

“That’s normal, expected. Your body’s done a lot of healing in the last 6 weeks or so.” She did the usual wand waving and potion summoning. “Let’s get you to say something for us.”

“Don’t give me anymore of that bloody nutrient potion.”

Harry laughed. Snape turned his head and boggled at him, choking off Harry’s amusement.

“I’d forgotten what a delightful patient you are, Severus.” 

“Did you say six weeks?”

“I did.”

“Merlin.” Snape closed his eyes. 

Madam Pomfrey spelled the potions into him. Snape grunted and his eyes snapped open. “Woman.”  

Pomfrey’s ignored him and continued, “Your voice sounds about how I expected.”

“I sound like a life-long smoker, mere weeks away from having to use one of those little Muggle talking boxes.”

Harry thought that was pretty accurate. 

“You are a life-long smoker,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Harry’s nose wrinkled. 

Severus sighed and asked, “When can I leave?”

Madam Pomfrey laughed, a sharp bark that shot down Harry’s spine. 

Harry bent forward and clutched the bedsheets by Snape’s hip. He said, “You can’t leave. Your-”

“I certainly can.” Snape’s voice cut in. But then all the blood seemed to drain out of him. His eyes moved from Harry to Madam Pomfrey then back to Harry. “I-”

His voice went out with a crack.

“You can barely lift your arms,” Harry said, frantic. “And the Death Eaters burned down your house.”

Snape’s eyes skittered across Harry’s face. His brow wrinkled and he looked sharply back to Madam Pomfrey and then quickly back to Harry. His panic seemed to be overriding any pain the movement should be causing. He pulled his hands up, they trembled, and he looked at his wrists. 

“Calm down, Severus. Calm down.” Madam Pomfrey took his trembling limbs between her fingers. “Breathe.” 

“You said,” Snape gasped out. “Potter, you said-”

“Oh, god. Oh,” Harry shot to the edge of his chair and reached towards Snape. Snape pulled back and winced. “I didn’t mean you couldn’t go. No, I’m working on clearing you, I swear. I only meant, I only meant you are still…weak. Physically.”

Snape squeezed his eyes shut. His eyelids and the skin around them folded into deep wrinkles. Harry could see little red veins beneath the delicate, bruise-colored surface of each eye. 

Snape’s breath was coming out in little pants. Pomfrey was there at his side cajoling him to, “Breathe, Severus.”

“I am so sorry, sir. I never meant-“ Harry shook his head. “No one is taking you to Azkaban. I swear.”

Madam Pomfrey had moved so she had one hand on Snape’s shoulder and one still cradling the thin wrist attached to Snape’s trembling arm. “Silly man.”

Snape’s breathing seemed to be calming. Harry watched his ribcage expand and contract. He felt wretched. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

Snape shook his head, dismissing Harry and Madam Pomfrey both. He pulled his arm from the mediwitch’s hold. He opened his eyes and glared at Harry. Harry swallowed. Snape closed his eyes and his whole body seemed to sag into the hospital bed beneath him.

“You will be here at least another two weeks, Severus,” Madam Pomfrey pulled away. “Though I’d prefer another month, honestly.”

Snape clicked his tongue. 

“Click that tongue at me again, mister, and I will start giving you the reserve potions the NEWT students brewed.”

Harry settled back in his chair. He clenched his fists in his lap. What a royal fuck up. 

Snape looked at Madam Pomfrey. “No more nutrient potion.”

“Let’s see if you can keep any food down today and then we will talk.”

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine.” 

“Mr. Potter.” Madam Pomfrey pointed at Harry. “Do not upset him again. He needs rest and calm.”

Harry said, quietly, “Yes, ma’am.” 

She pursed her lips before retreating to her office.

Snape wasn’t meeting Harry’s eyes. If Harry didn’t know better he would say the man was pouting. It would have been more effective if he could lift his arms to cross them over his chest. As it stood, Snape had a sulky set to his lips and his eyes were pinched and glaring at the wall opposite his bed. His nostrils were flared.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you would be arrested or anything.”

Snape flicked a hand, a feeble go at a brush off.

Harry pulled at the fabric of his jeans. “You aren’t even going to hang around a week, are you?”

Snape turned to look at Harry.

“You’ll make a break for it as soon as you can hobble off down the hallway.”

Snape continued looking and saying nothing.

“I’m sorry about your house.”

An eyebrow ticked up slightly.

“McGonagall told me that you never moved into Du- into the Headmaster quarters.”

Snape’s eyes shifted away and then back. 

“Didn’t Voldemort think it strange you never moved in, you know, made it your own?”

Then Snape’s eyes sharpened. Harry swallowed.

“The Dark Lord,” Snape said the name slowly, “had more pressing things on his mind besides where I laid my head to rest each night.”

“Right.” Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s true.” 

Perfectly true. Harry opened his eyes and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. 

“Did you keep your professor’s quarters here then? Well, in the dungeons, I mean?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Harry reeled back. “I’m fine.” Just felt like a massive moron at the moment. He shook his head. “Fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Harry clenched his fists, again, the skin pulled so tightly the skin went white. “Yes. I am.” 

Snape’s eyes dissected him. Harry was thrown back to every moment in the last seven years that Snape had disregarded his assertions, called him a liar, called him a horrible replica of James Potter. Harry’s molars mashed together with such force Harry was sure they’d crack. Snape’s eyes narrowed. The muscle in Harry’s jaw jumped. 

“Why are you even here, Potter?”

Harry shook his head and ran his fingers up through his hair. He flattened his fringe and met Snape’s eyes. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“Waiting for me to wake up.”

“Yes, you git.” Harry ran his tongue across his lips. 

Snape tracked it. Then he clenched his own jaw before spitting out, “What the hell for? We are nothing to each other. Nothing, Potter.”

Harry’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell. He could feel bile rising up in his throat. Oh, god. Harry stood and his chair toppled over. “I fucking know that.”

A noise pulled their attention away; Madam Pomfrey was hovering in the doorway to her office, arms crossed. 

“Aren’t you going to throw him out?’ Snape rasped.

“She doesn’t need to.” 

Harry stormed out of the hospital wing. He didn’t look back. Not until he was past the wards. He gave the castle one last look before he apparated away to the Burrow. 

******

Harry didn’t go back to Hogwarts that day. 

The Weasleys were pleased as punch to have him. Mrs. Weasley roasted a chicken, mashed up some potatoes, steamed up fresh-picked carrots, and baked an apple tart. Mr. Weasley patted Harry’s back heartily and squeezed his shoulder. Ginny clung to him like a bad penny. 

Harry didn’t say one word about Snape. 

Bill asked for an update. Everyone went quiet, but Harry only said, “The usual.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie. Snape was just being his usual self. 

Harry climbed the stairs to Ron’s room at the end of the day. It was strange to be at the Weasley’s without him. Harry’s cot was still all set up though and he gratefully burrowed under the quilts. The room was so quiet. And still. Harry could do nothing but think. He imagined Ron and Hermione in Australia. He thought about buying a new owl. 

Harry refused to think about Snape. Refused. 

Ginny sneaked in sometime later. Harry had never fallen asleep. He had lain there awake in the interim hours. So he heard when the door cracked open. He watched the light from the landing seep in. He tracked the lithe shadow of his girlfriend as she tiptoed her way to his cot. He scooted over toward the wall so she could slip beneath the sheets with him.

Her body turned to face Harry and she smiled. Harry smiled back. 

“You’re all blurry,” Harry whispered.

Ginny ran a single finger down the length of his nose. “You’re so blind, Potter.”

Harry pressed forward, lining the length of his body to hers. She smelled like oranges and, maybe, vanilla. Sweet and sour and delightful. He reached up and touched her shoulder, the softness of the worn t-shirt she had on slid pleasantly over her skin. 

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist. “I missed you.”

Harry nodded and touched his forehead to hers. 

“Will you stay?” She asked.

Harry kissed her, a simple press of lips. He shifted one hand up and ran it through her hair; the smell of oranges became stronger. 

Ginny pushed forward and kissed Harry harder. No simple press. Harry’s lips moved uncomfortably against his teeth, forcing Harry to retreat or open up. Harry opened up, Ginny moaned and the sound of it sent heat up Harry’s thighs and down from his belly. She shifted until she straddled Harry’s hips, the heat of her meeting the growing heat of his cock. 

She reached a hand under his shirt and gently twisted a pebbled nipple. Harry gasped and released her mouth. She sat up and pulled her shirt off. She laid her palms flat to Harry’s chest and started rocking her hips, the movement keeping friction on both his nipples and his erection. Everything began tightening and pulling up. Ginny made another one of those moaning noises and threw her head back. He loved when she made those noises. 

Harry reached up to touch, to touch anything, but Ginny grabbed his hands and put them on her hips and held them in place as she kept rocking. Harry clenched his teeth and watched her, and the intensity of his need dulled slightly. 

Ginny let go of Harry’s hands to pinch at her own nipples, properly working herself up. Her red hair falling in waves around her shoulders, brushing against her working fingers and cascading down to her freckled belly. 

She pushed up on her knees and shifted back. She smirked at Harry before pulling down his sleep bottoms. He watched his cock bounce free and slap his stomach. When his attention went back to Gin, she too was naked and moving back to straddle Harry again. 

Harry bit his lip as Gin wrapped a hand around his cock and positioned it. 

“No, Gin, wait.” Harry pushed up to his elbows. “Gin, stop!” 

Ginny’s face crumpled, but she stopped. “Don’t you want to?”

Harry swallowed. He did, he knew he did. He shook his head. “I do, but I don’t- I don’t know the spells. Aren’t their spells for protection?”

“I know them.” Her face brightened. She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue sliding against his. And Merlin it felt so good. She pulled back and repeated, “I know them.”

She searched the pile of clothes she’d made and found her wand, muttered some spells, and got herself back into position. 

Everything after that happened so fast. Ginny was tight and wet and hot. Harry closed his eyes and just let her do what she wanted. Like he’d done the whole time. When it was done and his virginity was lost, he laid there panting, Ginny curling in against his side. He felt hollow and useless. And he thought of Snape. 

******

Breakfast the next morning was awkward, or at least Harry thought so. 

There was no way that everyone at the table didn’t know what had happened the night before. They must be able to smell it on him. Harry felt like he could smell it on himself. 

And Ginny wouldn’t stop smiling.

Mr. Weasley looked disappointed. Harry could swear he did. There was a dullness to his eyes and when he asked Harry how he’d slept there was a challenge in his voice, Harry would swear it. 

When Mrs. Weasley offered him the last rashers, because he needed to “keep up his strength”, Harry knew this wasn’t going to work. It was time to find his own place. 

Then it occurred to Harry, he already had his own place. It just needed some work. 

And someone good with wards and curse breaking.

“I could pay you and everything.”

Bill smiled and tossed a potato in the basket. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I know, but I don’t know what needs to be done,” Harry said. He yanked a potato out of the ground. He’d escaped the kitchen to help Bill out in the garden as soon as he could. “Or how long it’ll take. It could be a big job.”

“The Order did a lot of the curse-breaking work already. But, how about this, Harry? Buy me dinner and a drink after and we’ll call it even,” Bill said. “And I don’t think it’ll take more than a weekend.”

“That’d be fantastic. Really, thank you.”

Lucky for Harry, the weekend started the next day, Bill nailed the time estimate, and the man was a more than pleasant dinner partner. They’d gone to a kitschy curry place around the corner from Grimmauld and Harry had butter chicken for the first time and fell in love. Then they went to a pub down the road and Harry had a fizzy drink while Bill partook of something stronger and shared stories about his time in Egypt. 

Long after the sun had set, Harry returned to Grimmauld. His home. His own home. Freshly warded just for him and, mostly, curse-free. They still couldn’t get that bloody portrait off the wall. 

“Half-Blood filth!” greeted him as he opened the door. 

It echoed through the empty rooms. Harry walked down to the kitchen. Empty. Dusty. He went up the stairs. Cobwebs. More dust. The bedrooms were a mess. Detritus strewn everywhere. And more dust. The library was more of the same. As always, the house was dark and gloomy. The furniture was ancient, or, Harry supposed, antique. In a word: stuffy. 

Harry wandered back down to the kitchen and sat down. Quiet surrounded him. 

Chapter Text

Five days, 120 hours almost precisely, after he’d walked away from Snape, found Harry standing just inside the gates of Hogwarts. Wizards on brooms were high in the air repairing one of the spires near the Ravenclaw dorms. A team was reassembling the Quidditch pitch. Harry adjusted his robes, dark blue and well cut; he’d bought them for Tonks’ funeral. He set a speedy pace straight to the infirmary wing. 

He’d decided that Snape wasn’t going to push him away. Harry wasn’t so dumb as to not recognize a defense mechanism. Snape could snap and snarl all he wanted. Harry wasn’t going to leave him alone.

Harry pushed open the doors of the infirmary ready to do battle. 

Only, the sight that greeted him had him stumble over his own feet to a stop. 

“That was quite the entrance, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall had an arm firmly around Snape’s waist, supporting a good deal of the weight of the lanky limbed man as he maneuvered himself back to his bed. Returning from a trip to the loo, most like. 

Snape gave Harry nothing more than a passing glance before he focused back on each footfall. 

McGonagall continued, “Was there a reason for your hurried arrival?”

Harry shook his head and walked over to the bed as Snape and McGonagall both worked to lower him down. Snape pulled his wand from beneath his pillow and waved the sheets up and over to pool around his waist. He was still wearing the hospital pyjamas; a soft grey cotton fabric with a pattern of pale blue Hogwarts seals all over it. The only difference was he now had a black silk robe thrown over the whole thing. 

“I just came to visit.”

Snape snorted and settled back, closing his eyes. 

“I did.” Harry rounded the bed, pulling his chair up to his usual spot. His books were still piled on the bedside table. He’d left them in his rush to get away. Though they’d clearly been handled since he’d been here last. A muggle detective book was on top of the stack now, but Harry noticed the self-help books weren’t at the bottom of the pile anymore.

McGonagall pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed. “You’d been missing so long we all thought you’d finally wandered off to the Auror training program.”

Harry said, “What?” at the same time Snape opened his eyes, popped his head up, and said, “Missing?” 

“Why would you think that?” Harry asked.

“Robards has been expecting you to show up any day now.”

“I don’t even know who that is, Professor.”

“He’s the new head of the MLE. You met him at the Order meeting a few weeks back.”

Harry shook his head, then looked sharply back at Snape. “I have been gone for five days.”

Snape shrugged. “That’s hardly missing.” He settled back onto his pillow pile, the bed had been spelled to keep him in the sitting position; the bedrails, evidently no longer needed, were absent now. “I knew exactly where you were, Potter.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Where then?”

“The Weasleys. Where else would you go, boy?”

“Don’t call me boy.” Harry brow furrowed. “And you’re only half right.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You started there at the very least.”

Harry pursed his lips.

Snape lifted one eyebrow. “I knew you’d return.” He gestured around with his hand. His movement was so much improved from the last time Harry’d been here, Harry was too shocked for a moment to realize where Snape was going with this. “You left all your junk behind.”

“Technically, the books are Hermione’s junk. I’m only borrowing them,” Harry said. He turned to the bed he’d been occupying, not right next to Snape’s, but not terribly far off either, and took in the neat pile, obviously Pomfrey or an elf had gotten to it, that had become of his clothes and such. He looked back at Snape. “Where was I the other half then?”

Snape breathed in through his nose and looked at Harry. “Grimmauld.”

Harry smirked quickly and then pressed it away. “Got it in one.”

“So, again,” Snape said, “Not missing.”

“Not missed, more like.” 

“True.”

McGonagall sighed, loud enough they both looked at her. “You won’t be able to delay much longer, Mr. Potter. Robards will be at next month’s Order meeting. And so will you.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not delaying anything. I had no idea anything was even expected of me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” McGonagall’s lips squished into a tiny moue is disappointment. 

Harry licked his. He looked at Snape. “Did the paper come today, Professor? I can read it to you again if you like.”

Snape ticked up an eyebrow. “That’s hardly necessary.” 

“I could read one of these.” Harry pulled one the Tolkien’s into his lap.

Snape looked at the book pile. “This lot is rubbish.”

“I can bring some-”

“Mr. Potter.” McGonagall stood and brushed out her robes. “I expect you at the Order meeting next week. It’ll be here at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall.” She pointed a finger at him. “No excuses.”

Harry opened the book to the place he’d left off. “This one isn’t so bad, sir. I can start it from the beginning if you like.”

McGonagall left the infirmary and Snape pounced. With a smirk, he said, “That was very illuminating.” 

Harry closed the book and crossed his legs. “Was it?”

“Indeed.”

Harry rolled his eyes and opened the book to the first page. 

“Close that ridiculous thing, Potter. I don’t need you to read to me. I’m no invalid.”

Harry closed it again. “I know.”

“Also, I’ve read that one already.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I find these much more interesting.” He pulled one of the self-help books out and read the title. “Trauma and You.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione isn’t very subtle.”

“Still.” Snape thumbed through the book and then looked up, his eyes piercing. “Illuminating, Mr. Potter.”

“Alright. If you say so,” Harry said. “Rather obvious, I’d say. Aren’t we all of us trauma victims at this point?”

“Some of us more than others.”

“Fair enough.” Harry reached for the book. “Would you like me to read to you from that one then?”

Snape lifted the book away from Harry’s grasping hand. “And if I said yes?”

“Then I won’t give you these.” Harry pulled out the pack of cigs he’d bought at the pharmacist’s. “I didn’t know which you preferred, obviously, so I just asked for the most popular.”

“Mr. Potter.” Both of Snape’s eyebrows went up to his hairline. “My, my, you are a bad influence.” 

“So?” Harry waggled them and the plastic wrapping crinkled. 

“I have no desire for you to prattle on at me.”

Harry grinned and handed them over. 

Snape lifted the pack to his nose and sniffed. 

“They are alright then?”

“They’ll suit.” Snape sniffed them again and gave a satisfied sigh.

Harry smiled. “You seem much better, sir.”

Snape made a humming noise of agreement. “Well enough to walk the halls soon, I hope.” He raised the pack to Harry.

Harry tilted his head towards them. “There’s a potion that keeps those from killing you.”

Snape shrugged. “Yes, not worth the bother.”

“You should bother. You should brew it.”

Snape looked at him wearily, sighed, and stuffed the packet into a pocket on his robes.

******

Based on the owls he kept getting from Kingsley, parts of the Order met more than once a month. They only did the big, full gathering once a month though. Harry tended to ignore most of the owls, only glancing at them before stuffing them somewhere. This was only the second one he’d been wrangled into attending.

The Great Hall was a much better fit for Order meetings. Harry didn’t know how many people were in the Order before, but they certainly were sizable now. There had to be a hundred people seated in the conjured chairs that faced the raised dais. 

Snape stood in the entrance next to him.They’d wandered down here a bit early. Harry thought maybe Snape didn’t want people to see that he still had some nerve damage in his legs. He really could get around much easier now, but sometimes he stumbled or shook and needed to brace himself for a moment. Madam Pomfrey said it was from random nerve spasms, and she hoped they would fade in time. 

It’d been a chore to convince the man to come down at all. McGonagall using her no arguments tone didn’t work quite as well on Snape as it did on Harry. 

“This meeting will set a precedence, Professor. If you don’t take your rightful place on the other side of all of this, they will have an easier time casting you out.”

Snape’d closed his eyes and huffed. He had said something about not wanting a place amongst those self-righteous arseholes anyway. 

“Don’t let the arseholes take what’s yours, Professor.”

Snape had sighed. “I’m not your professor, you know. ”

“What, you want me to call you Snape?” Harry’d chuckled. “To your face?”

Snape’d rolled his eyes. 

Snape had relented eventually. He had a house elf fetch his standard robes and they’d set out. 

Unfortunately, it took them longer to navigate the stairs then they’d thought, probably because Snape refused a cane and Harry’s arm, and they ended up not nearly early enough for their entrance to avoid an audience. Many eyes swiveled in their direction. Some people averted their eyes, like Snape was some monstrosity too vile to look upon, but the vast majority of the Order members present glared in their direction. 

“Let’s sit in the back,” Harry said. 

“Don’t do me any favors, Potter.”

“I’m really not. This is only my second one of these things and I already hate them.”

Snape glanced at him.

“At least this way, I’ll be able to escape when it’s done without any one cornering me.”

“Hm.”

Snape drew in a deep breath, and amazingly, walked smoothly to a seat in the back, leaving a space next to him for Harry. Harry gladly took it.

The DA gathered at the front of the room. They hadn’t sat down yet and were all turned staring at Harry. Ginny frowned at Snape, but gave Harry a cheery wave and a quick tick up of the corner of her mouth. Neville looked murderous.

“Neville really turned out to be something, eh?” Harry stage whispered. 

Snape took a moment to respond, but he eventually said, in a low voice, “He certainly did.” 

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans and settled in. “If you’re up to it maybe we can sneak out to the grounds after and you can use those death sticks of yours.”

Snape rolled his eyes, but said, “We’ll see. I’d rather avoid being cornered as well.”

“I’m very good at being sneaky.”

Snape sighed. “I’m well aware.”

Luna broke off from the DA group and made her way in their direction. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hey, Luna.”

“Can I sit here?”

Snape stiffened beside him, but Harry nodded anyway and they both shifted down a seat to make room for her.

Luna said, “Ginny said Ron and Hermione went to Australia.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded.

“It must be strange to be here without them.”

“A bit.”

Luna smiled and produced a burlap pouch from her robe pocket. She pulled out something that looked like allsorts. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks, Luna.”

“Professor.” She stretched the bag in his direction and Harry could hug her to bits for it.

Snape looked at the bag, glanced at Harry, and then said, “No, thank you, Miss Lovegood.”

“Alright.” Luna pulled it back to her lap. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do.” Harry’s grin was so big he could barely get the words out.

Kingsley entered a few moments later and everyone found a seat as the meeting began. It proceeded almost exactly like the last one. McGonagall gave an update about Hogwarts: still on track to open in September, staffing matters were still in flux, curriculum issues sorted. The MLE Auror bloke gave an update about the rogue Death Eaters: quiet, likely laying low. He looked at Harry for a long while, an uncomfortable long while before he finally sat down. 

Snape whispered in Harry’s ear, his deep, still raspy voice sending a shiver racing down the back of Harry’s neck. “Robards?”

Harry looked at him, surprised to see the dark eyes looking right back, and nodded. “Most likely, yeah.”

Kingsley stood next. The Ministry was progressing well enough it seemed. Elections still happening next month. There were other candidates, evidently. The Order seemed more a political entity than a resistance group now. Harry really wasn’t much for politics, but knew he’d vote for Kingsley all the same..

Snape crossed his legs and Harry watched as the man’s hand ran up and down his thigh, massaging the muscles. The hand stopped and Harry could see the pulse fluttering in that vein, the one he’d not touched in ages. Then Luna laid a hand on Harry’s and Harry looked up and realized the whole room was looking at him.

Snape turned his head, slowly, almost comically, to look at Harry. He whispered, loudly, “They want to know if you have anything to add, Potter.”

“Oh, ah. No.”

Everyone was still looking so Harry said again, louder, “No.”

Kingsley nodded and they moved onto new business. Harry blew out a breath and flattened his fringe. Robards caught Harry’s eye and made a gesture Harry couldn’t interpret. Harry gave one quick nod anyway, just so he’d stop looking his way.

Just like last time, Harry didn’t know anything about most of the Order’s new business and he didn’t know any of the people involved. Snape contributed something about a Death Eater’s doings. Harry had never heard about the event or the Death Eater, Anders. A few other people spoke about the rebuilding of a little Wizarding village near Dumfries that had had a rough go of it. He, Ron, and Hermione had missed a lot while they were gone last year. Harry spent most of the meeting picking at loose threads on his robes. 

When things wrapped up, Harry stood and turned to covertly help Snape if he needed it, but Kingsley raised a hand and, in his amplified voice, said, “Severus, if you could, please, stay behind.”

Snape nodded and Harry sat back down. 

“I’ll wait with you, Professor.”

Snape licked his lips, looked around, and then gracefully stood. Harry wondered how much pain he was really in. Because going by the time Harry’d spent in the infirmary over the last few days, these repeated bouts of agility should have been nigh on impossible. Then Snape grunted and went stock still and Harry knew that it had cost the man something. 

Harry sighed and stood. “How bad is it, sir?”

“None of your concern.” Came through clenched teeth. 

“Merlin.”

Harry returned every glare that came Snape’s way as they waited for the rest of the room to file out. 

McGonagall emerged from the crowd. “Please, Severus, sit.”

“I’m quite alright, Minerva.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, laced her hands together, and brought them in front of her. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, don’t be such a martyr, Severus. Sit down.”

Snape didn’t sit.

McGonagall didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a close thing. She turned to Harry. “You need not stay, Mr. Potter.”

“I know. I’m quite alright as well.”

Snape clicked his tongue. The room was mostly clear now. Harry glanced around and saw that Ginny seemed to be lingering out in the entrance hall, Neville a grumpy shadow behind her with some other DA members.

Kingsley arrived then, and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Severus, has Potter been keeping you up to date about your pardon?”

The skin around Snape’s eye twitched. “A bit, yes.”

Robards joined them and nodded at each of them in turn. Kingsley nodded and released Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s sit.”

Snape looked at McGonagall, but sat down. Harry sat next to him. McGonagall and Kingsley sat in the row before them and twisted their bodies to face Harry and Snape. 

“Harry’s provided testimony and a pensieve memory in your defense,” Kingsley said. “I’ve spoken with Albus’s portrait, but as you know, we cannot take that as evidence.”

Snape nodded.

“However, I have a new development to share,” Kingsley smiled. “It turns out Albus left evidence in order to clear your name. He left it with Remus. And Remus left it to Andromeda in his will. She, in turn, gave it to me a few days ago.”

Snape rubbed his thumb along the pads of the rest of his fingers. It was the only movement he made at the news. 

“I will present it to the Wizengamot next week, Severus,” Kingsley said. “I see no reason you should not receive your pardon.”

Harry ran his hands along his thighs. “That’s fantastic then.”

“It’s excellent news,” McGonagall said.

Kingsley raised a hand. “We are, however, very concerned about your safety.”

“Death Eaters set fire to the home you own in Cokeworth,” Robards added. “This pardon will only serve to anger them further.”

“I don’t care,” Snape said.

“That’s all well and good, but I have no desire to investigate your murder,” Robards said.

Snape pressed his lips into a firm line.

Harry said, “You could stay at Grimmauld.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, Potter.”

“That’s it, just no. You’re just going to dismiss it. Why?”

Kingsley silenced Harry with a gesture of his hand. “We do have some ideas, Potter.”

“Namely,” said McGonagall, “I’d like to offer you a job here at Hogwarts.”

Snape goggled at her. “You want me to continue teaching children?”

“I need a Defense teacher. You can stay here at Hogwarts, in your quarters, under the protection of the wards.”

Snape crossed his arms and looked away from them all. 

“This is a good option, Severus,” Kingsley said.

Robards straightened his spine and looked down at them. “I’d take it, Snape.”

“What’s wrong with Grimmauld?” Harry turned to Snape. “It’s warded. And empty. It’s just me there.”

 Snape clenched his teeth; Harry saw his jaw jump with the force of it. Snape looked at McGonagall. “I will think about it.”

“I’d like an answer very soon, Severus,” McGonagall said.

Snape nodded.

“Will you be well enough to attend the Wizengamot hearing, Severus?” Kingsley asked.

“Of course.”

Of course? Harry clicked his tongue. Martyr was about right.

Kingsley nodded and stood. Then everyone stood, except Robards who’d never sat to begin with. Harry watched Snape tremble from the effort, and Harry swayed closer. Thanks to Snape’s voluminous robes, and Harry’s less voluminous, but still ample robes, Snape managed to lean slightly against Harry with no one being the wiser. 

“I expect to hear from you soon, Potter,” Robards said.

Harry glanced at Snape before turning back and nodding.

Robards left first, setting a steady clip straight out the door. McGonagall and Kingsley walked out together, chatting lowly. Harry watched them for a moment before turning to Snape.

“McGonagall is like the second in command, isn’t she?” Harry said. “Of the Order?”

“I believe so. Since last fall.” Snape’s voice rasped out and quivered. His hands shook as he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

“Are we skipping that smoke, sir?”

Snape sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Shame. I’ve never smoked before.”

“Who said anything about sharing?”

“I bought them.”

“You gave them to me.”

“Why won’t you even consider Grimmauld?”

“It’s a pit, Potter.”

“Snape.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. 

Harry continued. “I live there, you know.”

“I do know.” Snape pulled away and they began the trek back to the infirmary. 

******

Harry couldn’t spend all of his time in the hospital wing now that Snape was awake. He would have liked to, but after a bit Snape would start giving him the eye. The ‘what the fuck are you doing here’ eye. 

They got on much better now, it seemed, or at least Snape wasn’t strong enough just yet to properly kick Harry out. But Snape was still Snape.

And Grimmauld was a pit. 

An empty, dusty, memory-filled pit. Harry hated being there.

“I’ve been thinking about getting another owl,” Harry told the Weasleys over lunch the next day. 

“Didn’t you used to have a snowy owl?” Mr. Weasley said as he cut into a bit of roast potato with his fork. 

Harry nodded and tapped a finger on the table. “She passed last summer. I do miss her, but having an owl is useful.”

“And Grimmauld must be a bit lonely, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said and looked at him dead on. “You know you could stay here as long as you like?”

“I do know, thank you.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded and sipped her tea. 

“I’ll go with you to Diagon.” Ginny took his hand under the table and Harry smiled at her.

Which was how Harry wound up sweating his way down Diagon Alley on a clear, hot July day, his girlfriend clutching his hand and random DA members filling him in on anything and everything he’d missed in the last year. 

Harry thought about Apparating back to the empty, dust pit just to get away. He hadn’t signed up for a group outing. He’d barely wanted to come here with Ginny. He just wanted to look at the owls. 

“Neville starts an apprenticeship next week.” Ginny gave Harry’s arm a shake. “Aren’t you Neville?” Neville grinned at Ginny, in agreement evidently. Harry kind of wanted to punch it off his face though. “That’s fantastic, isn’t it, Harry?”

“Yeah. That’s great, Neville. Really…great.”

Neville licked his lips and his nostrils flared, but he smiled. “Yeah, it is, actually.”

Harry’s attention wandered off as everyone continued chatting.

Diagon Alley hadn’t recovered yet. Loads of shops were still closed. Fortescue’s had never reopened. Harry wondered if they’d ever found out what happened to the bloke; he had been nice. Quality Quidditch Supply was closed up, but it had a sign in the window indicating it’s imminent reopening: “Just in Time for Hogwarts!” The bookstore was open though and so was Eeylop’s. The two places Harry needed today. 

The street were packed anyway though. Shoppers gawked at Harry as they walked past, and that was nothing to the looks his friends kept giving him. Like he was about to explode or do a trick. He had no idea what to do with it. As they passed Flourish and Blott’s, Harry squeezed Gin’s hand and excused himself from the group. Ginny let him go, but she frowned after him. 

Harry bought a stack of about a dozen books and smirked to himself. He shrunk them down and stuck them in a robe pocket before leaving the bookshop and rejoining Ginny and the lot. She took his hand up immediately and smiled at him. Harry returned it.

“We should go look at owls now, don’t you think, Harry?” Ginny said. 

Everyone looked at him. The prospect of picking a new owl didn’t seem to appeal quite as much at the moment, but he still said, “Yeah, alright.”

He must not have mustered up enough enthusiasm because Ginny shook her head and stayed in place. “We don’t have to. Only I thought you wanted to.”

“No. I did. I just don’t want to so much anymore.”

Neville took a step forward. “What’s wrong with you, Harry?” 

Harry tensed. “Nothing, Neville. Not that it’s your business.”

“Nothings our business anymore.” He gestured to the group, Dean and Seamus, Luna and Hannah. Some girl Harry didn’t know. “Is it, Harry?”

“Look, honestly, Neville, it’s really not.” Harry clenched his fists and straightened his spine. “What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Neville’s nostrils flared and he bent his shoulders towards Harry. “Snape’s the big hero now, huh? ‘Couldn’t have done it without him.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

Seamus stepped forward. “Yeah, in front of the Order lot.” The girl Harry didn’t know pulled him back. 

Harry laughed. “That’s your problem. Really?”

“He’s using you, Harry,” Neville said. He pursed his lips. “I don’t care what he thought about your mum, he still hates you. He killed Dumbledore and he made our lives a misery last year.” Neville smiled and it showed his canines. “You’re his ticket out of trouble. He’s only putting up with you until he gets his pardon.” 

“Everyone says so,” Dean added.

Harry swallowed. He nodded. “That’s fantastic. All of you.” He turned to Ginny. “I’m leaving.”

She clutched at his arm. “Harry, no, please.”

He pulled from her grip. Then he pushed forward and kissed her. He sent a last baleful look at Neville. “I’ll see you later, Gin.”

******

Harry threw himself down in a chair at the kitchen table in Grimmauld. It really was a gloomy, awful space. Not improved in the slightest by Harry’s mood. 

Wallpaper peeled in great chunks from the wall. Pieces had clearly been ripped down by Order members, or Sirius in his boredom and frustration. There was damp in the corners and cobwebs in the fixtures. 

And this ridiculous table. It was enormous. More than a dozen people could sit at it. And it was just Harry now. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need all these chairs. He didn’t need a bloody giant table. 

Harry shot up from his seat and kicked his chair. And the one next to it. He picked up the next one and threw it at the wall opposite. 

He moved around the table. Picked the chair up again, it had had the gall to not break. He threw it into the kitchen; it connected with the stove and the legs broke off. He picked up another one and it followed the first, a leg popped off, bounced up and took out a coffee urn. 

Harry smiled. Turned around, grabbed a great handful of wallpaper and tore. And then he tore some more. Once he started he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The hideous wallpaper reeked of Sirius’ misery. Of his isolation and desperation and his awful family. 

The table where the Order had sat. Where Dumbledore had sat and given them Orders that led people to death and glory and, and, and, Harry screamed, “Reducto,” and the whole thing became a pile of ash. He pointed his wand at the piles of wallpaper and turned them to ash. He took out all the appliances and the wall to the cupboard. He turned everything in the room to ash. Everything. 

He heard an ominous creak from the ceiling and his pending demise finally pulled him to a stop. Harry panted, his breath coming in great heaving gulps. 

The painting, that horrid fucking painting started shrieking, spitting its bile and damning Harry for his actions. 

And Harry couldn’t take it anymore. 

He ran to the stairs, ripped the cloth from her face and shouted back. “You’re a nasty, vile, inbred woman!”

“Unworthy! Unworthy!” Oil paint spittle flew from her mouth. 

Harry took up his wand and shouted abuse at her. And she shouted abuse back. It felt remarkably good.

Harry gave her a Reducto too, but it did nothing but piss her off. And that felt good too. 

He threw other curses at her. Then he cast Sectumsempra. Great slashes appeared and they both went quiet. Harry reached out and touched a flap of the canvas. And laughed. 

“Oh my god,” Harry said. “He could have got rid of you all along. That absolute bastard.”

Harry said the spell again and again and again. She was in shreds on the ground and the frame popped off the wall and joined her. 

Harry stared at the pile and gave one last Reducto, albeit a much milder one than what he’d done in the kitchen. And the painting was in ashes. Ashes to match his entire kitchen.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, “Holy shit." 

Chapter Text

Snape’s bed was empty when Harry arrived at the infirmary.

Pomfrey’s office was dark. The infirmary itself was only lit by the light streaming in through the windows. 

Harry didn’t know where to go from here. 

Harry turned from the doorway and looked down the hallway. 

He could go to the Headmistress’ office. She would know. Maybe.

Or, maybe Snape had taken her up on the offer and he was in the Defense room prepping for the year. 

Maybe he was in his quarters. 

Maybe he was gone. Fled to freedom and obscurity.

Harry put his hands on his hips. He had no idea where Snape’s quarters were, but he couldn’t imagine the man being well enough to be working in his classroom. Even sitting behind a desk would be a struggle. Just yesterday Harry’d pretended to not notice Snape struggling to walk to the loo.

McGonagall it was then, which meant his destination needed to be the Headmaster’s office. Headmistress’ office. 

Harry passed a few witches spelling bricks into place, some wizards using wands to float paintings into place, and Filch sweeping up a completed corridor. Then he was in front of that familiar gargoyle, unfortunately, without a password. Harry scratched at his temple and tried ‘Dumbledore’ again to no avail. Nostalgia had him reeling off various candies. Then he tried biscuit flavors. Nothing. This day was really not going his way.

“I just need in to see Headmistress McGonagall.” Harry pleaded. “Please.”

The gargoyle shifted and the spiral staircase appeared. 

“Really?” Harry hoped it hadn’t been the please. That seemed a bit much, in his opinion.

“Ah, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall peered at him over her spectacles. “Sit, please.”

“Thank you, Pr- Headmistress.” Harry sat and took in the office. It was reassembled. Dumbledore’s bits and bobs were gone. New bits and bobs were in their place. Less shiny and more comfortable. Dumbledore slept in his portrait. “I was actually just looking for Snape.”

“Professor Snape, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh.”

McGonagall took in a deep breath and settled back in her seat. “Indeed.” She tossed her quill to the desk. “It really is for the best, Potter.”

Harry nodded and propped his head on a hand. “I suppose. I don’t think he much likes teaching though, Headmistress.”

“I have gathered a similar impression over the years. However, perhaps things will be different now that teaching is his only responsibility.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “He could still be useful to the Order.”

“If he wants.” McGonagall shrugged. “I’m not sure he’s so inclined.”

Harry pursed his lips. “So is he still around? Only, I went to the infirmary and he wasn’t there.”

“Much to Pomfrey’s urging to the contrary, Severus checked himself out. He’s in his quarters, in the dungeons.”

Harry nodded. “And, how do I find those?”

McGonagall raised a single eyebrow and leaned forward. She drummed her fingers against the desk once. “Mr. Potter.” She looked at Harry and Harry squirmed. “I don’t quite know how to ask this, but what exactly are your intentions-“ She drummed them again. “No, no. How about this: What is it you hope to gain from Professor Snape?”

Harry shook his head and looked out the window to his left. “Why do people think I’m dim? That I’ve forgotten who Snape is? Or how he is?”

McGonagall’s face loosened. She seemed to start breathing again. “I do not think you are dim, Potter. I only worry.”

“Well, don’t. It’s fine. It’s all fine.” Harry nodded and stood. “Where are his quarters?”

McGonagall tapped her fingers on the desk a few times. Then she picked up her quill and returned to her work. “Just take my floo, Potter. ‘Severus Snape’s quarters’ should do.”

Harry’s heart beat fast. He wiped his palms on his jeans. He’d not bothered with robes today. And now he regretted it a bit. Gracing Snape’s quarters for the first time, intruding on them, seemed a more formal occasion. Nothing for it though. Harry grabbed a palm full of floo powder and threw it down, he stepped into the green flame, swallowed once and shouted, “S-Severus Snape’s quarters.”

They weren’t what he expected, but also everything that he expected. 

There were books everywhere. Just everywhere. Shelves and shelves of them, of course, lined the walls on opposite sides of the fireplace. Some of them bowed with the weight of the ancient tomes. Books also covered the dining room table. Stacked as high as Harry’s shoulder, with parchment and quills jutting out of random pages. A few books dotted the coffee table and a side table. There was a simply enormous tome on top of the cold box in the kitchen. 

The small kitchen was buried in one corner. The book laden dining table acted like an island in the kitchen. Two closed doors graced the same wall as the kitchen. In front of the fireplace sat a brown leather couch; it looked ancient. Harry rounded it and turned. The mantle had one book, a small one, and candles. A blue wingback sat askew to the lot. The room smelled like ink and parchment, but also vaguely of cigarettes and mint. 

Harry guessed the two doors led to a bedroom and a toilet. There was a third, much bigger door that clearly must have been the main entrance. Harry walked over and opened it. In the dungeons. The corridor didn’t look familiar. Harry closed it and turned back to the room. The empty room. 

There was no Snape. He must be behind one of the two mystery doors.

Harry hoped he was sleeping because Harry was absolutely about to open the doors to check up on the man. 

Harry clenched his fists and picked door furthest from him, the one closest to the kitchen. 

It was the toilet. A tidy little room. Clean. A simple, standard bathroom. His shower curtain was a lime green and there was a matching shaggy rug on the ground. 

That left one more door. This one had to be Snape’s bedroom. 

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. He cleared his throat and turned the knob. He pushed the door open. 

The room was dark. Harry didn’t go in. That felt like a step too far, but the room was so dark he couldn’t be sure if Snape was in there, and Harry just wanted to be sure he was alright. 

“Lumos minimuma,” Harry whispered and directed his wand into the room. 

Another bookshelf. Smaller by half than the ones out in the lounge space. Two bedside tables, one on each side, obviously. One had a newspaper and a magazine. The other was littered with potions bottles. Between the two tables sat a great big bed with a fluffy blue and green counterpane. And in the middle of the bed a great lump that could only be Snape. Fast asleep. 

Harry had watched this man sleep everyday, every day for weeks and weeks. He knew the rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing, the raspy snore that took him over sometimes. He knew the shape of his fingers and the way they’d started curling and grasping just before he woke up the last week or two. How easily his hair tangled against the pillow. 

And Harry stepped into the room. He stepped up to the bed, and then he was looking down at Snape. He slapped his hand across his mouth to hold in any sound. 

This sleeping Snape was vastly different from the sleeping Snape of the infirmary. 

This Snape sprawled on his back, his limbs akimbo. One arm bent above his head. The other crossed over his chest, the fingers curled gently into the fabric of his sleep shirt. Harry could see one leg pulled up and bent outward. The other out flat. The chest rose and fell like it always had, but his mouth was open slightly and that raspy snore was going full tilt. His hair was a black, knotted disaster against the blue pillowcase.

Something tight and hot squeezed the breath out of Harry’s lungs. 

And he knew he shouldn’t be here. This was different from sitting at someone’s hospital bed. 

This was different. Intimate. 

Harry swallowed. His eyelids fluttered against a blink. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He looked Snape up and down one last time and crept back out and closed the door behind him. He glanced around the quarters one more time. The books, the clutter. Snape’s home.

Harry left through the front door.

******

Harry knew he had to face Ginny. They hadn’t had a fight, not really, but he still felt this need to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong though. Ginny had, if he really thought about. She had invited all those people to traipse along with them. 

As soon as Harry thought that though, he felt like a git. Those people were his friends. He’d known Dean, Seamus, and Neville for seven years. They’d fought together. They were more than old school friends. But, Merlin, they’d been annoying the bejesus out of him. 

Always whispering and laughing. And Neville, glaring at him all the time. And the shit they’d been saying about him and Snape. 

Shit everyone had been saying, evidently. 

Still. Harry mustered up his courage and Apparated to the Weasley’s for breakfast. 

Mr. Weasley gave him a hearty greeting. Mrs. Weasley floated a plate of food to him the second he took his seat next to a smiling Ginny. Maybe he wouldn’t have to apologize for fighting with Neville after all. Maybe it could just be forgotten. 

George was there too. He talked a bit about shop stuff. He’d reopened a few weeks ago. It wasn’t quite the same he said. He had to hire some new staff. Loads of people were looking for jobs since so many shops were still boarded up, and some were never opening again. George took off through the floo shortly after breakfast. Mr. Weasley went off to work. Mrs. Weasley had to run to the market. She invited Harry and Ginny, but they declined. 

“It’s strange to be here alone,” Ginny said as they walked through the orchard behind the Burrow. “At the house I mean. Without Ron or you. Or even Hermione.”

“Yeah, I’d the same thought last time I stayed.”

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, then laced her fingers with his and stared forward. “It reminds me of last summer actually.”

Harry glanced over.

“Just a bit though,” she continued. “It’s calmer, obviously, but just as lonely.”

“Gin. I-“

“Please,” she said. “Don’t apologize again. I know why you left me.” She smiled. “Because you love me.”

Harry smiled back and furrowed his brow. “I wanted to keep you safe.”

Ginny nodded. “So. How’s Grimmauld?”

Harry chuckled. “Oh. Ah. Fine.”

Ginny looked sad. “You could stay here, you know.”

“I know.”

Ginny shifted direction and pulled Harry along. She backed up to a tree and pressed against it. She tugged Harry’s hands until his body covered hers and pressed her still further back. His heart rate picked up and he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back. 

******

Harry pushed the pages of the book down into the floor, but the book fluttered closed as soon he let go. Wizards really needed to jump on the spiral-bound book bandwagon for guidebooks. He found the page he needed again, pressed down on each side. He drug a paint can over to hold one edge, and another can to hold down the other edge. 

Then he stood up and glared down at the wizard renovation guide that now sat open in the middle of Grimmauld kitchen. He’d been flipping through it, and a handful of others, the last few days. They all discouraged simply blasting any room to bits, but it was too late for that. After picking up from his little temper tantrum, the kitchen was bare. A complete blank slate. 

And it needed windows. Big ones that let in the warmth and sunshine of London, such as it was. 

He reread the spell on the page, pulled in a fortifying breath, and raised his wand.

******

Harry’s grasp tightened around the plastic bag. His knuckles popped in their joints. He drew a breath and then knocked with his free hand. 

He took one step back and waited. He blinked twice, rapidly, and blew out a breath. 

Snape didn’t answer. 

Harry had considered flooing in from Grimmauld, but that seemed rude, and he was trying to make a certain impression here. Plus, now he didn’t have the excuse of “McGonagall made me do it” to throw out there at Snape’s annoyance.

Harry stepped up and knocked again. He wondered if Snape could see him through the door, with some kind of monitoring spell. He wanted to know the spell if that was the case. 

Snape didn’t answer. 

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Maybe Snape was too weak to walk to the door. Maybe he’d potioned himself into oblivion again.  Harry knocked again, louder.

The door opened a crack. Snape’s tired eyes peeped out, rolled, and disappeared as the man pulled the door open enough for Harry to slip in. 

“Hello, Professor Snape.” Harry held up the plastic bag. “I brought dinner.”

Snape crossed his arms. He was in dark trousers, a more casual cut then he wore as a professor. Plus a white smock-like shirt, too billowy to be fashionable, and dark robes were thrown over the whole thing. He had purple bruises beneath his eyes and Harry could see the slightest tremble running down his arms.

Harry placed the bag on a kitchen counter and went hunting for plates. “Do you want to sit?”

“Did you just invite me to sit at my own table?”

“If you can find space amongst the books.”

Snape walked over to the table and pursed his lips at the book piles. He used his wand to float some back to the bookcases against the opposite wall. Then he gracefully folded himself down into a chair. 

“I brought a few curries. And some naan bread. Have you ever had it?”

“Of course I have, Potter.”

“I just had it for the first time a few weeks ago and I’m obsessed.” Harry moved the bags over to the table now that there was room for them. He turned back for the plates he’d found. “There’s this place around the corner from Grimmauld.”

“Lovely.” Snape glared at the ensemble gathering on the table. “What made you think I’d eat this?”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t much care, actually. I knew I liked it and I’d eat it, and if you didn’t then you could snub your nose and lose out.”

“Ah.”

Harry piled butter chicken on his plate, some vindaloo, and slapped a piece on naan on top. 

Snape huffed, but he pulled a plate towards himself and spooned up a modest amount of vindaloo. He grabbed naan, tore off a piece, and swiped it through some sauce. 

Harry smiled and dove in. 

Snape summoned up some glasses and filled them with water. 

Harry finished and leaned back in his chair. Snape was still picking at his food. 

“So, do you reckon the Defense post is still cursed?”

Snape made a dismissive gesture with both hands. “I’ll find out, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Harry looked around the room. The fireplace was going and the heat and light perked the space up a bit. It was quite homey actually. There weren’t any windows or anything. It made the room seem smaller than it was; the bookcases likely didn’t help much, but really it was a nice space to live he supposed. 

“Kind of a dangerous gamble.”

Snape raised a single brow, put down his fork, pushed the plate away, and crossed his arms on the table. “What is this, Potter?”

Harry swallowed and licked his lips. “This is dinner.”

Snape sneered, showing his clenched left canine, as he spit out. “Why?”

“Everybody eats.” Harry looked down at his empty plate and ran his fork through the leftover sauce.

“I am the same person I was before. Exactly the same, Potter.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I still don’t like you very much.”

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, I know that too.”

Snape’s jaw flexed and tightened and he looked off to the side. 

“I don’t think I am anymore though. The same, I mean. I don’t think I am the same person. And I think that maybe I could be someone- no, not that. I just think maybe…” Harry shook his head. Licked his lips and shook his head again. “Maybe…”

“Spit it out, Potter.”

“I don’t know what to say to you, but I know that right now this is what I want to do.”

“You want to annoy me and bring me dinner?”

“Yes.”

Snape narrowed his eyes.

Harry continued, twisting his fork between his fingers, “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I just want to be here sometimes.”

Snape looked away.

“You don’t have to be nice or even talk to met. Just let me talk…at you.” Harry laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know. Loads of things have changed. Everything. But you are here. And I just, right now, just want- I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.” Harry looked the man right in the eye. “Just let me. Please.”

Snape shut his eyes. “Potter.”

“You can push me away and tell me when I’m being a nuisance and whatever, but just let me be here. For now.”

Snape drummed his fingers on the table. He looked off over Harry’s shoulder, then at the leftovers of their meal. He stared down at his hands for so long Harry started to pack away what was left of the meal and float the dishes over to the kitchen sink. Then Snape drew in a deep breath and sighed. He looked up and asked, “Why exactly have Granger and Weasley abandoned you for Australia of all places?”

Harry smiled and rambled off about Hermione’s parents and about Ron and Hermione’s new dating status. Snape listened, added remarks here and there, some rude, some sarcastic, but some Harry would have sworn were genuinely inquisitive.

******

Harry slept in the same guest room he and Ron had occupied together years ago. His renovation project hadn’t spread past the first floor landing yet. The kitchen still needed a new table set and an oven. And, besides, Harry hadn’t decided yet which bedroom to make his permanent bedroom. He wasn’t really in a rush anyway.

He stretched out under the covers and just enjoyed a proper Sunday morning lie-in. He knew he had to go see Ginny today. The Weasleys had a Sunday family dinner tradition they were getting off the ground now that all the kids, except Ron and Ginny, were out of the house. They’d owled Harry that he was expected just like the rest of them. 

And speaking of owls, Harry could hear one pecking against his window right then. 

He pulled the covers off his head and glared in its direction before swinging his legs up and out. It took up a steady knocking. “I’m coming you ruddy thing.”

Harry pulled open the window. It stuck a bit and once it was open it let in the sticky heat of almost August. 

Harry grabbed the parchment from its leg. “I don’t have any treats.” It hooted. “Or any food at all up here.”

It flew off. Harry closed and latched the window. Unrolled the parchment, saw it was from Robards, and let it roll up again before he tossed it on the desk. He crawled back onto the bed and burrowed in.

******

“This is pink, mate.”

“No, no.” Harry put his hands on his hips. “This is red. Like a pale red.”

“You mean like a pink,” Ron said.

Harry shook his head. “The book said red was a good color for kitchens; it promotes hunger or something.”

“Alright.” Ron watched Hermione sit down at the new table Harry’d picked up from a furniture shop in Soho.

Harry continued, “But the book also said dark colors were confining and I wanted the opposite of that, so I got this lighter shade.”

“It’s pink, mate.”

Harry crossed his arms. “The can said red blush.”

“I would have guessed rose,” Hermione said. “It’s lovely, Harry. The windows add so much light. It’s like a different room.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks. Yeah.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t nice,” Ron said, his brow wrinkling. “I only said the walls were pink.”

“It clashes with my hair,” Ginny said with a smile and hip bumped Harry. “And yours, Ron.”

Ron rolled his eyes and sat next to Hermione. 

This was the first time since he’d started making changes that he had anyone over. Once Ron and Hermione got home (Hermione’s parents returned, but confused) and found out that Harry had moved out of the Burrow, they’d not let up until Harry agreed to have them over. He warned them that it was very much a work in progress. He’d just de-wallpapered the entry and stairwells yesterday. The kitchen was the only room done so far. 

It felt strange having people see what he’d done, because he had done this solely himself, but he was also pretty proud. 

“I learned all the spells from these books I bought. They’ve been dead helpful.”

“I wondered what you’ve been doing with all your time,” Ginny said. 

“This is a way better use of your time than sitting next to old Snape’s bedside day in and day out.” Ron threw out. 

Harry swallowed and nodded and said nothing about the fact that he still saw Snape every single day. 

“How is Professor Snape?” Hermione asked. 

“Awake,” Harry said. 

“This really is a perfect space, Harry.” Ginny sat down opposite Ron and patted the chair next to her for Harry to join them. “You could have everyone over for dinner.”

“Everyone?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, laying her hand on Harry’s thigh. “Luna, Dean, Neville, Seamus, Rani. All that lot.”

“Rani?”

“Yeah, you met her a few weeks ago. In Diagon Alley.”

Okay. “Was that her name?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, but said,  “Oh! Like for your birthday, Harry!”

“Gin,” Ron screwed up the side of his mouth. “I cannot see Harry liking something like that.”

“A birthday party?”

“Throwing himself a birthday party?”

“Well,” Harry interjected. “I agree with Ron. I can’t see Harry doing something like that.”

Ron and Hermione scoffed, but Ginny clicked her tongue and removed her hand. She slid her arm around Harry’s shoulder and smiled. “Well, that’s alright. We can do something more private if you like.”

“Gross,” muttered Ron. 

Ginny ignored him and the shove Hermione gave him. “That’d be nice actually. We won’t have a lot of time together before I have to go back to Hogwarts.”

Hermione perked up at this and launched into a long diatribe about how behind she was after the year off and bringing her parents back from Australia. Everyone gave her less than enthusiastic reassurance that she was just fine. She wondered whether the curriculum issues that had arisen from half the students missing last year in whole or chunks had been resolved. 

“Did Headmistress McGonagall say anything about it at the last Order meeting?”

“I think she did,” Harry said. “No, I know she did, but I don’t remember exactly what she said.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Thanks, that’s loads of help.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m sure it will all be in the welcome letter. And those will go out soon enough.”

“She did say the information would be in the welcome letter,” Ginny added.

“Oh, that’s right,” Hermione said. “I forgot you’d have been at the meeting too.”

Ginny and Hermione chatted a bit about what McGonagall had said. Ron leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You got anything to eat here, Harry?”

“No, I’ve not gone to the shops. I’ve been getting a lot of takeaway.” 

“That sounds good. Let’s you and me do that then.”

“No, wait,” Hermione said. “Let’s all go. I’m hungry as well.”

Just as they all stood up a peck, peck, peck rattled the shiny new window at the back of the kitchen. Harry groaned and went to let it in. The owl flew to the table and settled in. “Oh no you don’t,” Harry said. “You are not staying.” Harry snatched the parchment and shoved it in his pocket. He gestured towards the window. “Go on now, out.”

The bird didn’t move. Just stared at Harry.

“I think he’s waiting for a response there, mate,” Ron said with a smirk.

“I know he is. He’s here every bloody day lately.”

“Who’s writing to you so much?” Ginny’s brow wrinkled as she eyed the owl.

“Why don’t you respond?” Hermione asked. 

“This annoying Auror bloke. And I thought not responding was a kind of responding. I thought he’d get the message.”

Ginny’s eyes took on a dangerous, playful gleam. “What’s he want then? If he looking for a date and you’re just not so keen?” She smirked and wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and laid her chin on his shoulder.

“Very funny, Gin,” Harry said. “It’s nothing. Let’s just go.”

“No, now you’ve got me curious.” Ginny held tight with one hand and with the other dug into Harry’s pocket. 

“Gin.” Harry pulled away, unsuccessfully. Jesus, she was strong. “Gin, stop!”

She pulled away, the wrinkled wad of parchment in her hand, and turned her back to Harry. Harry leaped after her, making grabs for it as she opened it and read. 

“This just says he wants to talk to you about fast tracking you through Auror Training.” Ginny turned curious eyes on Harry.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and flattened his fringe. He reached for the parchment, but Ginny threw her hand above her head and back. Hermione came from behind and grabbed it off her. 

“Why’s that annoy you?” Ginny asked.

“Why haven’t I been offered a fast track?” Ron said, reading over Hermione’s shoulder.

Harry licked his lips. “I don’t know. He’s just a berk and I haven’t wanted to meet with him, alright?”

“You still want to be an Auror, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione held the parchment out for Harry to take back. She looked concerned. Brow furrowed. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Of course I do,” Harry said. He flattened the parchment and rolled it properly. “Yeah.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Just,” Harry continued. “Maybe not right now, is all. Like, I don’t know. I was thinking of maybe going back is all.”

“Back?” Ron said.

“To Hogwarts.”

Ginny’s face lit up and she threw her arms around Harry’s neck. “That’s fantastic!” She pulled back and kissed him roughly on the mouth.

“Am I the only one not going back then?” Ron crossed his arms. 

“No,” Ginny kept an arm hooked across Harry’s shoulders but turned towards Ron. “Loads of people aren’t. Neville, Seamus. They’re just sitting their NEWTS.”

Ron’s mouth pinched closed and he looked away. 

“You really want to go back, Harry?” Hermione said, reaching out and placing her hand on Harry’s bicep. “You could live at Hogwarts?”

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He thought of Snape and the dungeons and how the man had nearly died at Hogwarts so many times, he’d been bullied there, he’d killed his friend their. It had been his home and his prison and Snape was going back. Harry smiled at Hermione. “Yeah. I think I need to. Just one more year.”

Hermione smiled, small and a bit sad. She nodded. “Let’s go have dinner then and celebrate."

Chapter Text

A sprawling Wizarding market sat at the end of Diagon Alley, just past Ollivander’s. It had the feel of a flea market, with stalls of bright produce, parchment-wrapped meat, mouth-watering baked goods, and shiny jars of preserved and pickled things. Off to one side there was a more modern section of aisles, with boxed and canned products; Wizard-ish things like Magdalena’s Mesmerizing Meat Stew, Percival’s Puffapod Pie Filing, and Hippogriff Helper. 

Harry’d been a few times with the Weasleys. All sorts of people shopped there, from witches and wizards to house elves and goblins. 

It was loud, crowded, and more than a little overwhelming. 

Harry much preferred just going round the corner from Grimmauld to a Tesco, and shopping anonymously with all the muggles. As a kid, Aunt Petunia had dragged him to Tesco often enough that Harry found a bit of comfort in the simple familiarity of it. 

So, when he decided it was high time to stock up the Grimmauld kitchen for his last month in residence, he walked the little way to his local one. It was smaller than the one in Surrey, but perfectly suited to Harry’s needs. It was well-lit, quiet, and utterly boring.

Harry looked from the Coco Shreddies to the Honey Loops and back again. He grabbed both and threw them in his basket, adding them to the milk and OJ he’d already picked out. That was breakfasts covered for a bit.

He walked a little further and his eyes caught on a wall full of coffee.

Maybe he should give coffee a go. He’d noticed Snape had it every morning with his toast and jam. Grimmauld didn’t have a coffee maker, but surely it wouldn’t be hard to find one in a department store.

There were loads of flavors, like vanilla, Columbian, French, and different types, like instant, whole bean, ground. Harry reached out for the ground vanilla, then put it back when he spotted cinnamon.

The heavy tread of boot-clad feet pulled his attention to the front of the aisle.

A man strolled down the aisle. He stopped in front of the cereal, but he kept his focus on Harry. His eyes were a strange shade of blue, icy and pale, and they had a hard intelligence to them that matched his stiff posture. 

Harry swallowed and turned his eyes back to the coffee. The man was dressed oddly in a thick, waffle-knit shirt and the baggiest jeans Harry’d seen outside of his own hand-me-down days. Earrings glittered out from between strands of dark hair. Despite the heaviness of the shirt, Harry could see the bloke was fit, with lines and bulges of lean, capable muscles outlining his arms and chest.

The bloke took another few steps towards Harry, only glancing half-heartedly at the shelves around him, and Harry told himself to calm down. London was full of strange people; everyone always said, and this bloke likely had no idea who Harry was and meant him no harm at all. Plus, who was Harry to judge someone’s clothing choices anyway; his jeans had a hole in one knee and he was wearing a threadbare t-shirt he’d gotten as a gift from Hermione years ago.

The man saddled up beside Harry and paused. Harry felt himself begin to sweat along his lower back and under his arms. He thought of his wand, tucked into the front of jeans, hard against his belly. He turned and met the man’s gaze. 

The blue eyes travelled up to Harry’s scar and Harry reached under his shirt to grasp his wand. 

Then the man just walked away. 

He circled around Harry, walked to the end of the aisle, and turned left.

Harry blinked, and blinked again. He gripped his wand and followed. 

Or tried to, at least.

When he got to the end of the aisle, the bloke was nowhere to be seen. Harry paced up and down the store, looking down each aisle. But it was like the guy had vanished. Like he’d disapparated. Only, Harry hadn’t heard any pops or cracks.

Harry swallowed, his breathing gone a bit funny from racing around the store. He put his basket down at his feet and put his hands on his hips. He gnawed at his bottom lip and searched his memory. The man hadn’t looked familiar at all. 

Harry kept his wand accessible in his hand as he finished up his shopping and checked out. He left the store and discreetly cast a feather-light charm on the bags hanging from his arms. He walked in the direction of Grimmauld Place, keeping his eyes sharp and open, watching for someone overdressed with a dark head of hair and pale eyes.

But he saw nobody suspicious as he walked down Pentonville Road and crossed to Claremont Square.

He was ready to write the whole thing off as simply odd, but then he spotted him. 

Standing at the edge of the park across the street from Grimmauld, bold as brass, right there for Harry to see, stood the same bloke from Tesco.

Harry stopped and met his gaze. The man didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t even appear to be breathing. He looked like nothing more than a strange statue. 

Harry shifted direction. He took one step towards him. 

And just like that, in space of a breath, the man was gone. 

******

“I was in the Tesco,” Harry said as he watched Snape add something that smelled like a Christmas tree to the cauldron. “Tesco’s like a muggle place where you can buy food and such.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Merlin, Potter. I’m more a muggle than you. I know what a bloody Tesco is.”

“Well, I was looking at the coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee.” 

“I was thinking of starting.”

Snape sighed, gave him a look, and used his wand to light the fire beneath his brew. “Continue.”

“Ta. You’re the one that interrupted.” Harry huffed. “So I was at the Tesco in the coffee aisle and this fit bloke came up.”

“Fit?”

“Yeah, he was, you know, he was fit.” Harry flexed his arm muscles, like a bodybuilder. “And kind of intense, I suppose. But he was dressed kind of odd; thermals in July, you know. He just stared at me for a while, then he got real close and looked at my scar.”

Snape’s brow creased up at that and he fingered his stirring rods before picking a glass one.

“Then,” Harry continued. “He just walked away. I tried to follow.”

“Of course, you did.”

“Yeah, but he was just gone. I walked around the whole store, but I couldn’t find him.”

Snape started stirring whatever he was making in the cauldron. “That is odd.”

“There’s more though.” Harry plunked himself down on a stool at Snape’s lab table.

Snape lifted an eyebrow and tapped his stirring rod on the side of his cauldron. He sat down too, across from Harry, with much more grace. 

Harry continued, “He popped up again across the street from Grimmauld. Just watching me walk home.”

Snape crossed his arms. 

“So,” Harry jiggled his leg against the stool. “I made to walk over to him—”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Snape tensed. His brow furrowed and his nostrils flared.

Harry’s mouth hung open for a second before he answered. “To find out what the hell he wanted.”

“Alone? What would you have done if he attacked you?”

“Attacked him back.”

Snape clicked his tongue and scowled. 

“I am not some helpless damsel in distress, Snape. I’ve fought off plenty of wizards.”

“Would you have fought him right there? In the bright, broad daylight of central London?”

“If I had to.”

“Foolish. Typical Potter—”

“Don’t bloody give me that.”

“—fall for any cheap trap they set out for you. Just like—”

“Don’t.” The guilt and grief of Sirius rising in his throat, Harry swallowed and stared Snape down. “This was not the same and you know it.”

Snape sneered, baring his sharp canines. He tightened his arms around his chest and glared at Harry. 

Satisfied Snape was done, Harry finished his story. “He disappeared the second I moved towards him.”

Snape’s glare shifted to his cauldron. Not looking up, he said, “Tell me exactly what he looked like.”

“Dark hair, blue eyes, like a pale blue color. Really pale blue. Good looking. Fit, like I said. Bit intense.”

“Young, old?”

“Neither really, probably your age.”

Snape glanced up at that. Then, without much emotion, straddling the line between bored and neutral, Snape said,“Vague though that description is, it does match that of a known Death Eater, still at large: Callum Anders.” 

Harry nodded. “So where does this Anders fall on the psycho scale? Bellatrix on one end and, I don’t know, Lockhart, on the other end.”

“He was neither vicious nor crazy. Nor was he particularly devout.” Snape said, in a clipped way. Obviously still unhappy with Harry. “However, this behavior does not speak well of his current mental stability. Failure is hard for some to accept.”

“True, and, sometimes the quiet ones that blend in turn out to be the scariest.”

Snape hummed and pursed his lips. He looked hard at Harry. He uncrossed his arms and laid his hands flat on the table before him.  “I know you’ve never seemed able to resist the draw of stumbling face first into these life-or-death conundrums, Potter, but hear me now.” 

Snape paused and Harry watched him, tense and ready.

“Do not go looking for him.”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t plan to.”

Snape lifted a single dark eyebrow. 

Harry scoffed. “I swear. Cross my heart, Snape.”

“Hm. We’ll see.” Snape settled back and recrossed his arms. “I’d say stay at the Weasley home, but I imagine Anders would just find you there.”

Harry nodded. “It’s weird staying there now anyway. Now that I’m dating Ginny.”

Snape’s brow creased. “You’re still dating that girl?”

“Yes.”

Snape had a strange look on his face. Harry tried desperately to decipher its meaning. It looked equal parts thoughtful and outraged. Maybe some shock mixed in. Then it all fell away and Snape leaned forward to check his potion.

Harry bit the inside of his bottom lip then said, “You don’t like Ginny.”

“On the contrary, I have no opinion whatsoever regarding the Weasley girl.” Snape sat back again, pulled his feet up to rest on the highest rung of the stool, and tucked his arms tightly against his chest.

“Why did you look, I don’t know, angry or something, just now?”

“It’s not my business, Potter. Don’t think on it.”

Harry pressed his lips together and decided he’d rather not get into it about Ginny of all people. If Snape thought this was a blacklisted topic, then fine. He’d dropped the Sirius rant easily enough. Harry could drop this too. 

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, Snape.”

“I know.” Snape rolled his eyes. “Our entire world knows our dear hero’s birthday is tomorrow.”

Harry nodded. 

“Why?” Snape smirked. “Are you inviting me to your birthday party, Potter?”

“Would you come if I did? Because I would if I thought you’d come.”

Snape huffed. 

“I’m not having a party or anything anyway. Mrs. Weasley is making a nice dinner and probably a cake of some kind. It’ll be nice. You could come if you want.”

“I don’t.”

Harry shrugged, laid his elbows to rest on the table in front of him, and propped his head on his hands. “You think this Anders guy is the one that burned down your house?”

“If he is, I’ll shake his hand.”

Harry gave Snape a bemused look.

“You aren’t the only one who’d inherited a pit, Potter.”

Harry chuckled. 

******

The Weasley table hit capacity for Harry’s birthday dinner. All of the usual suspects were there. Bill with Fleur. Percy and George. Ron and Hermione and Ginny.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, of course. Andromeda even brought Teddy out. 

Massive red and gold balloons bobbed up and down high above the table. Green streamers criss-crossed the room. They fluttered with the breeze coming in through the open windows and Teddy kept reaching out a chubby little fist towards them. 

Harry yanked a small piece down and handed the paper mâché scrap to him. Teddy immediately stuck it in his mouth and Andromeda had to wrestle it away before he could swallow it. His bottom lip trembled, fat tears sprung from his eyes, and he wailed.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he apologized and apologized, to Teddy, to Andromeda, to all the guests covering their ears. He hadn’t known he was rubbish with babies, given that he had no experience to speak of.

He grabbed another piece and transfigured it into a paper airplane. He charmed it to zoom around and around Teddy’s head. Andromeda didn’t look exactly pleased by this new nuisance, but she jiggled him a bit and pointed it out, making him smile a gummy grin and clap.

Harry blew out a relieved breath as Ron gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder. 

Mrs. Weasley had cooked up a nice dinner of roast chicken and potatoes. Honeyed carrots and yeasty rolls covered in butter. A big chocolate cake with ‘Happy 18^th Birthday Harry!’ written across the top in yellow icing. 

He received the usual sort of gifts from everyone; books, candy, broom care supplies. 

But Ginny had bought him a ring. Harry had worked hard to not let his confusion show. It was gold and fit the middle finger of his left hand. It had an engraved design that circled it like vines. Harry slipped it on and stared at it. He’d never worn a ring before. It seemed strange and heavy. He clenched his fist, then spread his hand out flat against the table. He smiled at Ginny and thanked her. She looked pleased enough so Harry thought he’d faked it pretty well. 

Ginny nestled in close to Harry’s side. She smelled like oranges and that something sweet that always lingered around her. It reminded Harry of his cot up in Ron’s room and sex. He swallowed and lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders.  

“Thanks, Gin.”

She kissed his cheek and whispered, “You’re welcome, Potter.”

Fleur leaned over the table to look more closely at the ring and then Mrs. Weasley, and then Percy, and finally Harry lifted his hand up and swung it around so everyone could take it in.

Ron wrinkled his nose as it swung his direction. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, settling back in his chair. 

Mrs. Weasley stood and began to clear the table. Hermione and Mr. Weasley volunteered to help her clean up. Harry stood to help too, but Mrs. Weasley forbid the ‘guest of honor’ from cleaning up after his own birthday dinner. 

George asked Andromeda if he could hold Teddy. Everyone else watched and cooed as George pulled out a stuffed dragon from somewhere and gave it to Teddy. 

Ginny turned to Harry and said, quietly, so only Harry could hear, “I came round yesterday.”

“Did you?”

“I wanted to give you your present in private.” She smirked. “It has a second part I can’t give you in front of the family.” 

Harry shivered. His eyes darted around the table before he turned back to Ginny. “Yeah?”

“You weren’t there though.” Her smirk fell away. “Where were you?”

“Out. Getting groceries and things.” He kept his visit to Snape to himself. He didn’t know why he still felt compelled to keep his budding…friendship a secret, but he did.

Ginny hummed. “I waited.” She pursed her lips. “For over an hour.”

Harry’s brow scrunched up. “Why?”

Ginny reared back. She looked at Harry like he should know why, but he really didn’t. Ginny lifted both eyebrows and she said, slowly, sounding out each syllable, “The gift.”

“Oh.” Harry’s face cleared. “Oh.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Slow, Potter.” She nudged her shoulder against Harry’s chest and smiled. “It’s alright. We can go back to yours after this.”

One side of Harry’s mouth lifted in something like a return smile. He turned his face away, trying to narrow his attention in on something else in the room and ignore the sudden churning in his gut. Sex was not exactly what he thought it would be. It was good, decent. But the way the boys had talked about it in the Gryffindor dorms and in the Quidditch locker room, he’d expected rockets and fireworks. Not the fizzle of simple satisfaction. It was more like eating a cracker when you were starving. 

Maybe he just wasn’t very good at it. Maybe he just needed more practice. 

He looked down at his new ring and tighten and loosened his fist. The silver etchings slithered and rustled, like they were blowing in some invisible breeze. It was a strange ring. It was a strange gift. What on Earth made Gin pick this for him? 

He lifted his gaze and caught Ron’s eye. Ron looked at the ring and then back up at Harry and made a disgruntled face. Harry bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

******

The second round of sex with Ginny was not any better. 

It was a disaster from the starting gate, in fact. 

Harry’s birthday dinner had wrapped up and everyone began to depart. Ginny told Mrs. Weasley she was going home with Harry and Mrs. Weasley’s eyes popped right out of her head. Her mouth hung open and she looked wide-eyed and shocked at Harry, then purse-lipped and narrow-eyed at Ginny. Harry’s cheeks burned bright red and hot and “I’m so sorry,” burst out of his mouth and fell awkwardly into the silence in the Weasley kitchen. 

Gin, arms crossed and stance wide, yelled at her mother. “If I am old enough to fight a war, I’m old enough to have sex with my boyfriend.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you for this,” Mrs. Weasley returned. 

Back and forth they went. Ginny fighting for her freedom and Mrs. Weasley begging her to think of her future. And please, please, please use protection. 

Gin stomped out of the house, pulling Harry along with her. 

They got to Grimmauld and Harry made the grave mistake of suggesting that maybe fighting with her parents about their sex life was a bit of a mood killer. 

Which set Ginny off at him about not letting Mrs. Weasley control their lives. 

Not something Harry had ever worried about a day in his life. 

But Gin had eventually tackled him down onto his sofa with an angry kiss. She mashed her lips against his, their teeth knocking unpleasantly. She clawed at his arms and rutted against him. Harry grabbed at her hips and tried to slow her down, but she was so mad. He didn’t know if she was mad at him anymore, or her mother, and Harry felt guilty and he just wanted to make her happy.  

Ginny used her mouth and her hands and everything happened even faster than last time, and when it was over Harry was dazed and confused and mortified. Ginny fell asleep, but Harry stayed up long after, staring at the ceiling. 

******

The Defense classroom had been destroyed completely during the Battle of Hogwarts. They’d rebuilt it entirely, leaving no trace of the Carrows behind, and giving Snape a clean slate to work with. 

Snape’s stamina improved with every visit, but he still tired pretty easily, and he never slowed down, even when he sorely needed to. Harry would follow him around Hogwarts, feeling like a lost puppy, forcing him to rest for tea or a sandwich. 

Snape had hung his creepy banners back up and he had the desks arranged how he liked. He had shelves of helpful reference texts along one wall and he had the dummy practice dolls shrunken and lining another wall. He also did a lot of curriculum prep work, sometimes in his office and sometimes in the classroom. Harry read more of his Tolkien book (Frodo and his friend had finally made it to Mordor) while Snape bent over his scrolls and textbooks. 

He told Snape about his new plan: to attend Hogwarts for his seventh year and sit for his NEWTS in May.

“Which NEWTS?” Snape had asked. 

“Defense, obviously. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology.”

Snape curled his lip. “Auror subjects.”

Harry’d shrugged and changed the subject.

Harry looked forward to his time with Snape. He left home every morning and made his way to the dungeons to see him. Harry would watch Snape drink a coffee and eat some toast, and then they would make their way either up to his classroom via the floo or down the hall to his office. 

The Black Lake looked mighty appealing as Harry trudged up the hill to Hogwarts. Scotland was suffering under a bit of heatwave. Harry could already feel the sweat gathering and making his t-shirt stick to his skin. 

Construction work was done on the castle. The grounds were green and bright and the castle was whole and sparking with the magic of the renewed wards and renovation spells. The doors to Hogwarts stood open and Harry walked right into the entrance hall, a kick in his step and a whistle on his lips. He turned towards the stairs to the dungeon and jolted to a stop.

“Auror Robards.”

“Mr. Potter.” 

The man stood dead center in the entryway. His arms were crossed over his chest, making his red robes pull tightly over his broad shoulders. Almost as tight as the expression on his face. 

Harry bit at the inside of his bottom lip and stepped forward. “Well,” he said. “Have a nice day.”

One step to the side and Robards had stopped Harry from moving around him.

“We need to talk, Potter.”

Harry didn’t think they did actually. He licked his lips and crossed his arms. He looked off behind Robards, to the stairs leading down to Snape and away from this conversation. “I’m coming back to Hogwarts in the Fall you see, so I can’t do whatever it is you want me to do.”

“I know. McGonagall told me.”

Harry nodded and looked down at the ground. 

“You could have told me and saved me the owls.”

“I never said I wanted to start Auror training already.”

“Do you want to be an Auror?”

“Of course, I do.” Harry scoffed and met Robards eyes. “Of course.”

Robards nodded. “The offer still stands. Whenever you are ready, Potter. Let me know.”

The man shifted to the side. Harry gave him a tight-lipped smile and pressed forward down the stairs.

He made it about three steps before Robards called out, stopping him. “See you at the next Order meeting.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder and watched the man walk towards the open doors. Harry flattened his fringe and continued on. 

Snape was already exiting his quarters when Harry finally made it down there.

Snape looked him up and down. “Didn’t think you were coming today.”

Harry shook his head, both not wanting to get into his delay, and dismissing the notion that he would skip out on Snape. “Are you working in your office today?”

Snape nodded and turned in that direction. His dungeon office was exactly as it had been for all of Harry’s time at Hogwarts. As much as he’d hated this space as a student, he found comfort in it now. 

He settled himself down into the chair opposite Snape’s desk with his book. Snape opened a couple books and arranged them in front of himself. He pulled parchment out from a drawer and spelled them flat in front of him. 

Snape said, not looking up, “You are aware once term begins, you cannot meet me at my quarters each day.”

“Well, not everyday, I know.”

Snape eyed him. “Not ever.”

Harry turned his head. He knew that, he supposed. It wouldn’t be appropriate. He pursed his lips and twisted Gin’s ring around and around on his finger. It wouldn’t be fair to be too friendly with his teacher, but it seemed laughable that someone would think Snape would show favoritism towards Harry Potter of all people. Harry looked back at Snape and nodded. 

Snape’s attention was caught on the movement of Harry’s hands though. Harry stopped and covered the ring with the opposite hand. 

“That’s fine anyway,” Harry said. “You’re much better.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “I never required a minder to begin with. Don’t style yourself as some sort of martyr.”

“Don’t need to.” Harry opened his book to the page he’d left off on. “Everyone’s already done it for me.”

Snape bunched up a bit of parchment and threw it at him. Harry lifted his book just in time to block it and send it careening off to the right somewhere. 

“What is that thing on your finger?”

Harry swallowed. He looked at the page in his book and did not lift his hand to show said finger to Snape. “It’s a ring.”

“A ring.”

Harry nodded. “It was a birthday gift.”

Snape hummed. “It looks like a wedding ring.”

Harry laughed. “It’s not. It’s not even on the right finger for that.” Harry closed the book and looked at his hand. “Is it?”

“It’s not.”

Harry drummed his fingers against the book and stood. He stepped up to the desk and showed Snape. Snape leaned forward and looked at it more closely. He reached out as if to take Harry’s hand. His slim, graceful fingers twitched and curled in, and he pulled his hands back. Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he watched them. His hand trembled and he moved it further into Snape’s space.

“Is it charmed?” Snape asked.

Harry’s brow creased and he looked at the ring anew. “Not that I know of. Gin didn’t say anything.”

Snape lifted a single, dark brow and sat back. Then he smirked and crossed his arms. “Staking her claim, is she?”

Harry’s mouth popped open and he brought the ring up to eye level. “You think?”

Snape sneered and lifted his shoulders. “I’ve no clue. The whims of the opposite gender remain a mystery to me.”

One side of Harry’s mouth lifted in a smile. “So there’s truly no hope for me then.”

“I suppose only time will tell, Potter.” Snape picked up his quill and returned to his work.

Chapter Text

Since his birthday, Harry had managed to avoid this precise moment. He’d carefully sidestepped it over the last few weeks. He had Gin wait until she was alone at the Burrow to Floo call him. He’d arranged for them to meet up with Ron and Hermione around London. He’d made a romantic date out of having tea at Madam Puddifoot’s.  

He’d ducked and dodged and put off the inevitable for as long as he could. 

But, standing on Platform 9 and 3/4, the Hogwarts Express steaming in the background, crowds of parents and students bustling and hugging and chatting around him, Harry at last had to look Mrs. Weasley in the eye once more, knowing that she knew. 

She placed his face between her hands, gave him a gentle pat and said, “Good luck to you this year, Harry.” The skin at the corners of her eyes had a pinched look and her mouth was ever so slightly downturned. Her eyes took him in, the shifty back and forth of them poking at Harry’s conscience. Then, she smiled, quick and tight. “I am sure you will do well, dear.”

His voice was very small as he replied, “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” in a great rush.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Gin next. The two had come to some sort of middle ground. Not that Mrs. Weasley had much choice. Gin was seventeen now and ‘of age’ by Wizarding standards. Harry decided to keep his opinion about it all to himself. Despite his, uh, involvement, in the problem, it was not really his place. 

Whether from guilt or fear, he had avoided being completely alone with Gin. Their last encounter sat unpleasantly in his gut. Every time he thought of it, he thought of Snape describing the ring as Gin ‘staking her claim’ and it made him sweat and squirm, his pulse thump and his thoughts scatter. 

Harry glanced over at Ron and Hermione, hugging and whispering their goodbyes. Mrs. Weasley, a much more open smile on her face, interrupted them to give Hermione her own farewell.

Ron met Harry’s eyes over their heads and came to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.  “It’s bloody weird to not be going with you lot.”

Harry said, “You could always hop on board with us. I’m sure McGonagall would make up a space for you, in class, the dorms.”

Ron shook his head and dropped his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “No thanks, mate. Can’t imagine sitting in that school, doing bloody homework and thinking about house points. Not after everything.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Watch after Hermione for me though, yeah?”

Harry scoffed. “You and I both know she can take of herself.”

Ron gazed at her with a smirky smile on his face. “She is brilliant, isn’t she?”

Harry looked over at Ginny. Neville had come out to see them all off. He had only spoken to Gin though, making it perfectly clear he’d not forgiven Harry. Harry twisted the ring around and around his finger and watched them. Neville tugged on the end of Gin’s hair and she laughed and pulled it away from him, tossing it over her shoulder. 

“What’s Neville’s problem with you?”

Harry shook his head. “We got in row about…about Snape, actually, and the Order and the DA. Ridiculous stuff.”

Ron hummed and crossed his arms. “He’s been kind of a tosser since everything.” 

Harry hummed a response. That was the second time Ron’d referred to the battle, the entire war, as simply ’everything’. “You ok, mate?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, but it was hollow, distracted. He sniffed, shook his head, and turned to Harry. “At least you’ll get to see your girlfriend every day. Even if your girlfriend is Ginny.”

Harry jabbed him with an elbow. “Hermione’ll be hyper-focused on NEWTs and stuff, you know her. So, you wouldn’t get to, you know,” Harry paused for effect, “anyway.”

“We’ve barely been able to, you know,” Ron wiggled his eyebrows, making Harry chuckle, “the last few weeks. Between mum freaking about you and Gin, and Hermione’s parents recovering from the memory charms, we’ve not been able to find a good moment.”

A good moment. Harry bit the inside of his lower lip, debating. He twisted the ring round and round, then said, hesitantly, “Say, Ron.” Harry lowered his voice and glanced around. “You and Hermione? You’ve like, had sex and stuff, yeah?”

“Yeah, and stuff.” Ron looked a bit dopey-eyed. His lips tugging up into a pleased smile. 

“And you liked it?”

“Of course. It’s brilliant.”

Harry nodded.

Ron wrinkled his nose. “I’d ask about you and Gin, but, to be honest, I really don’t want to know anything about my little sister and… that.”

Harry laughed it off, bumping his shoulder roughly against Ron’s. 

The whistle blew and the crowd started moving and shifting and hugging and shouting out their last farewells. Gin stepped up to Harry’s side and laced her fingers with his. He looked down at her and smiled; she smiled back and snuggled into his side. They climbed on board and he, Hermione, and Ginny found an empty compartment to settle into. They waved to Ron, Neville, and Mrs. Weasley down on the platform. Mrs. Weasley’s face was still pinched with concern. Harry met Neville’s eyes and Neville’s jaw tightened. Harry pursed his lips and sat back in his seat, away from the window. 

Luna and the girl from that horrid day in Diagon Alley (Rani, or whatever Gin had said) joined them a few minutes after the train had ambled away from King’s Cross Station. Rani, it turned out, was a Ravenclaw in Gin and Luna’s year (which was Harry and Hermione’s year now as well, he supposed). She had dark, straight hair, cut sharply at her jawline, and blue eyes. She reminded Harry of Cho Chang a bit, quiet and sweet. He wondered if they were related at all, but didn’t care enough to actually ask.

After a while, Gin, Rani, and Luna went off in search of the sweets trolley. 

Harry stood up, closed the door properly, and sat down next to Hermione.  

She slid a bookmark into place and looked at Harry.

“Can I ask you something, something kind of…” Harry bit his bottom lip, “private?”

Her brow creased and she sat up straighter. “Of course, always.”

Now that Harry was here, he didn’t really know what to say. He ran his hands through his hair, tugged a bit at the ends, huffed, and reached down to grip both of his knees. “It’s about Gin and me, and I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, Harry. Whatever it is. You’re my friend.” She smiled. “Always. No matter what.”

Harry smiled and his posture loosened. 

She glanced down at Harry’s hands, and Harry realized he was twisting the ring round and round again. He stopped, and made his hands into fists. 

Hermione placed her hand over one of Harry’s and said, “Go ahead.”

Harry nodded. “I think, I think maybe…”

Hermione squeezed his hand and looked at him encouragingly.

“I think, um, I’m not, Merlin…this is embarrassing.”

Harry huffed out a laugh and swallowed. They smiled at each other.

“Okay,” Harry continued. “I don’t think I’m— I mean we’re— I don’t think we’re having sex…right.”

Hermione pulled back, only slightly, still holding Harry’s hand. “Oh.” Her face creased up and her eyes glazed over, giving her a faraway look. She repeated, softer, sadder, “Oh.”

“What?”

She shook her head, coming back to herself, and chuckled. “Nothing. I just, I thought you were going to say something else.”

“Really? What did you think I was going to say?”

“Nothing, it’s not important.” She licked her lips. “What to you mean by not ‘right’? Like it hurts or…”

“No, nothing like that. Just, it’s…” Harry considered a few adjectives before settling on, “bad.”

Hermione hummed and dug teeth into her bottom lip. “Well, it takes time to figure it out, and practice, I suppose.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know that, I guess. But, I just, I really don’t like it, Hermione.”

“Then you shouldn’t do it.”

He shook his head, thinking of Ginny’s persistence; his lips pulled up on one side. “I don’t think that is an option.”

“Harry.” Hermione turned her body and looked earnestly into Harry’s eyes. She took both of his hands in hers and said, “It is always an option.”

Harry swallowed, something thick and heavy in his throat. He nodded. He pulled his hands from hers and stood up; Hermione’s eyes followed him. He could hear the murmur of voices and Gin’s laughter making its way down the corridor outside. He sat back down in his seat across from Hermione, her eyes never leaving him.

“Harry, are you okay?”

Harry pulled in a deep breath. “Of course, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. I always do, yeah?”

Her eyes darted over him and she pursed her lips before saying, “Okay.”

Harry got out a quick, “Thanks, Hermione,” as the door was pushed open and the other girls returned.

******

The Great Hall was subdued for the Welcoming Feast. It wasn’t quiet. People whispered and murmured to their housemates, there was the occasional rise of soft laughter, and the clink and scrap of glasses and silverware as people ate and drank. But it lacked its usual jovial quality. 

All of the house banners hung above their heads, swaying gently. The tables were filled with the usual assortment of dishes, roast beef and chicken, potatoes and peas and carrots, rolls, Yorkshire pudding, and gravy. The student population had dwindled, with the Slytherin table looking the most bare; Harry didn’t recognize a single one of the remaining members.

The professors up on the dais were watchful. McGonagall had given a short speech. Wrapping it up with a trite, “We should honor the memory of those we lost here by living, by carrying on.” She’d introduced a new Muggle Studies professor, Anya Strovkosky, but she hadn’t announced Snape’s return as the Defense professor. Snape had always wanted this position, and now he had it, fair and square, without any plots or contingencies, and the moment would just pass by, unremarked. It frustrated Harry, but he wasn’t sure Snape even cared about that anymore.

Snape seemed to be holding up well enough. Harry’d gone to see him yesterday. They’d passed a perfectly normal day brewing Pepper-Up and walking down to the Forbidden Forrest to collect stinging nettles. Snape had sneaked a cigarette; he hadn’t shared a single one from that pack with Harry yet. Just the smoke from them had Harry coughing though, so he hadn’t pressed the issue. They did not speak of the shift everything was about to take, from whatever they were now back to Harry Potter the student and Severus Snape the professor.  

Harry looked up at him now, sat at the end of the staff table, alone and stoic. He could tell Snape was just picking at his dinner. He’d poured himself a third glass of wine, however, and was currently twisting the stem between his fingers. Harry’d been watching him all night and had not seen one person attempt to speak with Snape. He’d seen plenty of glares and furious whispered conversations sent his way though. Harry wanted to march right up there and plunk himself down beside him. He wanted to stare down the whole room for him.

“You all right?” Hermione asked. 

“What?” Harry glanced at her, and then at Ginny beside him. Hermione wouldn’t bring up their train conversation here, would she? “I’m fine.”

“You looked ready to murder someone.”

Harry gave her a confused look, but noticed his hand hurt. He looked down at it and realized he’d been clutching his fork until his knuckles were white. The skin pulled tight across them and his bone were grinding together unpleasantly. He let it go and sheepishly looked at her.

Hermione speared a strawberry with her fork and gave him an exasperated look. 

Gin looked at his hand, a deep line between her brows. She opened her mouth, likely about to ask him what was wrong, but Harry did not want to talk about where his mind had been. He decided to change the subject. 

“When will you hold Quidditch tryouts?”

Ginny had been named captain of the team this year. McGonagall had offered it to Harry, but he’d declined pretty quickly. They hadn’t had Quidditch last year, at all, and Harry’s former team had mostly either graduated or moved on. Ginny was going to get a fresh start with the team. Harry still wanted to play, and fully planned on trying out for the open seeker position, but it didn’t feel right to be captain. 

“This weekend.” Ginny’s face cleared and she spoke a bit more loudly, enough so that others at the table could hear if they wanted. “Not Saturday, on account of the Order meeting. Sunday though. Bright and early.”

A fourth year a few seats down asked which positions were open and Ginny let him, and everyone else, know it was all of them. More people had questions and Ginny got into answering them as Harry allowed himself to zone out, grateful it wasn’t him being bombarded.

Harry searched out Snape again. His heart jolted when he found the dark eyes looking right at him. Harry smiled at him, small and discreet, he hoped. He thought about waving, but that seemed a tad too much, so he didn’t. Snape narrowed his eyes, like he’d read Harry’s mind, and picked up his glass. But he didn’t look away from Harry, so it was almost like he’d smiled back but in a Snape way. 

Harry looked away first, focusing back in on finishing his treacle tart, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

******

The curtains were pulled closed around Harry’s four poster bed, leaving him in inky darkness. The room around him was quiet. It was strange to be in this bed and not have Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean in the beds around him. It was jarring and foreign in a distinctly unpleasant way. These boys tiptoed around him and watched him out of the corners of their eyes. He felt alone and very much not alone all at once. 

It made him wonder why on earth he’d decided to come back to Hogwarts. Maybe, he should have tried to convince Ron to come too. But then, he supposed, they would both be treated with this odd fishbowl life. Or maybe, if he wasn’t the only boy to return from his year, they could have had a dorm room of their own, instead of being shuffled in with these new 7th years.

Harry rolled to his side and snuggled more deeply into his pillow. He shut his eyes and willed away all thoughts of what tomorrow would bring, what today already brought, what could have been, and what never will be, and on and on and on. 

He needed to clear his mind. 

Clear your mind, Potter. Discipline your emotions. 

He took a breath in through his nose and let it out between his lips. He relaxed all of his muscles and sunk into the mattress. Breathe in and out, in and out. Sleep. Just fall asleep. Fall asleep, Potter. 

He opened his eyes. He rolled to his back. Without his glasses, without light, his bed was a blur of nothing. It made him feel like he was floating. He closed his eyes against the disorientating spin of it. 

He reached under his pillow and pulled out his wand. “Lumos minima.”

He flinched and squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He sighed, placed his wand at his hip, and laid his hands against his chest. He counted his breathes with the rise and fall of his ribcage. He shifted a hand to his sternum and pressed down until he found his heartbeat; he counted that out for a bit as well.

He’d start his last term at Hogwarts tomorrow. His last first day of class. He’d sit at a desk and read a blackboard. He’d scribble out homework assignments and mark time by the hour. He’d play Quidditch and eat meals in the Great Hall. He’d see Gin and Hermione everyday. He wouldn’t worry about what Malfoy or Voldemort were up to. It would all be normal, normal, normal.

Harry pulled himself up to sit against his headboard. He picked up his wand and snuffed out the little ball of light. He tucked his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He placed his forehead down, scraping his scar over his kneecap, and tightened his arms. The air in the small space between his legs and chest, where he’d tucked his face into, became warm and humid and it made Harry feel dizzy.

Harry pushed the curtain aside and uncurled his body. He glanced around the room and listened. The normal dorm noises, snuffling snores and shifting limbs, were the only sounds. Harry slid his legs from the bed and crept to his trunk. He pulled out an old jumper, an oversized red one that had belonged to Dudley at some point. He tugged it on over his pyjama shirt and stuffed his feet into his trainers. 

It was so easy and familiar to sneak out of the room and pad down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room. He couldn’t help but grin a little as he took it in. The furniture was all the same, the fire burned low in the grate, and it smelled of wood and smoke and people. He watched the flickering shadows made by the firelight, checking that the room was empty, that no nervous little first year had come down here to while away the hours before breakfast. He crossed the floor, eyes on the door, making for the dungeons. 

“Harry?”

He spun round at the sound of Gin’s voice. She stood at the bottom of the staircase up to the girls’ dorms. Her hair twisted in a plait was draped forward over her shoulder. She wore a lilac nightgown that contrasted beautifully with the red of her hair. It was short; short enough that Harry’s eyes were drawn to the inward curve of her thigh. 

“Where are you going?” Gin stepped forward, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. 

Harry shook his head and watched her walk towards him. “I— nowhere. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

She wrinkled her nose and scoffed as she stopped right in front of him and placed a hand on his hip. 

“I mean,” Harry cleared his throat. “I was only going for a walk. Just a walk.”

“Alone?”

“Course. Yeah, alone.”

She wrapped her other hand around his neck. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Harry looked down at her, shook his head, and pursed his lips. 

“Maybe I could help you with that.” She smirked and Harry smiled, or tried to, as he watched her features dance in the firelight. She was so pretty. Her lips were pink and full, and her freckles kissed the smooth skin of her nose and cheeks. Her hair smelled so nice, like always, and she was warm and she wanted him. Harry placed his hands on her shoulders and the fabric moved easily against her bare skin. Harry’s pulse thudded in his ears and his mouth went dry and cottony. 

She pressed up to meet his lips and Harry bent low and let her. She pushed her tongue out against Harry’s lower lip and dragged her teeth over it. Harry shivered and pulled away. 

“Where were you going to walk to?” Gin traced a line down his jaw, his neck, his chest, with her fingers. “We could go there together.”

Harry stepped around her, back into the common room area. He walked a bit away from her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?” 

She moved closer to him and Harry shifted back. He shuffled until he hit the side of the sofa and sat down on the arm. He crossed his legs in front of him. “I just feel off, tonight, strange.”

Ginny looked at him, a line deepening between her brow. Harry watched her, waiting. He didn’t know for what exactly. He glanced past her towards the door and thought of the wide expanse of the castle beyond. 

Gin nudged Harry’s legs, nudged and nudged until he uncrossed them and she could press her body between them. She ran her fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes. She asked, “Can I help?”

Harry shook his head. 

Ginny clicked her tongue, and she tugged at his still crossed arms. 

He resisted and said, “Gin, come on. Stop.”

“Stop what, Harry?” Gin sounded annoyed with him now.

He opened his eyes and met hers. “I just— I wanted to be alone, Gin.”

Harry heard her swallow. He watched her eyes dart across his face. She reached up again and touched his face, traced the line of his jaw and ran her thumb across his bottom lip. He wondered what she saw and why she cared, wanted. He wondered why he didn’t. She kissed him and pressed close. Harry could feel her belly against his forearms. 

He relented and uncrossed them, wrapping them around her waist. Her body sank into his further and she moaned as she deepened the kiss. A frisson of heat sparked in his gut, finally, but it was small and fleeting and it took everything in him to not push her away. 

He placed his hands on the sides of her head in an effort to control the pace and slow it down, to withdraw, but Gin seemed to take this as a challenge and her hands swept down to the waistband of his plaid sleep bottoms. Her fingers tucked in and Harry pulled his mouth from hers. 

“Gin.” Harry felt breathless, her name catching in his throat. He tried to shake his head, but she clutched at it and pulled him forward and said, “Harry.”

He pushed her away and she stumbled slightly. Harry stood up and reached a hand out to catch her. They stared at each other, panting. 

Wood creaked behind him and Harry turned to see Hermione stepping into the room. She looked from Ginny to Harry and scowled. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Harry answered, quickly.

Hermione stared passed him, at Ginny. Harry was too afraid to turn around and see Ginny’s face. Hurt or anger or confusion, he couldn’t deal with any of that right now. 

His lips were swollen and raw. His skin felt tacky and clammy and too tight. 

Hermione said, “You should both be in bed.”

“Who made you Head Girl?” Ginny said.

Hermione huffed and her look turned baleful. “Aren’t we a bit old for that nonsense?”

Harry nodded and ran his tongue across his bottom lip. His eyes burned and it was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. He wanted nothing more than the small, dark, lonely space of his bed upstairs. 

He nodded again and Hermione looked at him. Whatever she saw there, and he had a pretty good idea what it was, it made her face soften. Then she pursed her lips and pointed to the stairs. “Go, Harry, now.”

Harry had never loved Hermione more than he did in this moment. He mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ and dashed for the stairs. As he climbed, he could hear a hushed argument brewing up behind him. He closed the door of his dorm room on it and crawled back into bed. 

Chapter Text

“Loosen your grip, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked at Snape from the corner of his eyes and let his fingers relax ever so slightly around his wand. 

Snape nodded and then turned to the next student, a stocky blond Slytherin. Snape took the other boy’s wrist and adjusted it a touch to the right. 

Harry focused back on Hermione, who was still holding in a defensive position, and fired off his curse. The spell light flared cold and pink across the gap and Hermione flicked it away easily. It hit the ground and left an icy patch of frozen water on the stone floor. 

Harry cocked his head, still unsatisfied, and they both lifted their wands again. Harry whispered the spell and the light shot out once more. And Hermione threw up a shield that absorbed the spell entirely. Harry pressed his lips together and shook out his arms. 

“Your lips moved, Potter.” Snape was at Harry’s side in two long strides. He bit out. “What year are you in?”

“Seventh.” Harry balled his hands into fists. “Sir.”

“Nonverbal Only.” Snape enunciated each syllable.

“Yes, sir.”

“Go again, now.”

Harry rolled his shoulders, lifted his wand, and waited for Hermione to ready herself. He concentrated on the movement of his wand, on the spell, on his intention. The pink light flew from his wand and Hermione deflected it with a snap of her wrist. 

Snape came behind him, not touching him exactly, but closer than Harry’d expected. Snape laid his arms over Harry’s, not pressing his weight down on them, but his warmth still seeped down into Harry. His hands engulfed Harry’s slim wrists as he adjusted them this way and that. Harry swallowed and couldn’t pull his eyes from the sight of it.

“I said loosen your grip, Potter, not tighten.” Snape’s voice was low and close, right against Harry’s ear. His voice so deep and resonant, a shiver crept down Harry’s spine and settled tight and heavy in his gut. 

“Y-yes, sir.”

Harry let himself go slack under Snape hands. It was harder to focus with this attention so thoroughly on him, and he still couldn’t look away from Snape long, tapered fingers circling his wrist, looking suddenly delicate and birdlike. He flashed back to a time not so long ago when he’d held those hands in his and willed life into them. Snape in pain, Snape near death. Harry’s nerves got to him and his fingers shook, sweat popped up along his hairline, and his teeth dug into the soft flesh of the inside is mouth.

Snape whispered, “Steady, focus.”

The spell flew from his wand and hit Hermione’s shield spell hard enough to break through and freeze her arm, wrist to elbow.

“Better, Potter.” Snape released him, walked over to thaw Hermione’s arm, and moved on to the next student. Harry’s eyes lingered on his departure until they went dry and forced Harry to blink and blink again.

Harry swallowed, blew out a breath, and looked at Hermione. She had one eyebrow cocked up and her lips twisted oddly, like she was holding in a laugh. Harry shrugged, lifted his wand, and said, “Again.”

The first week of class had flown past. Harry’d slid back into the routine of Hogwarts so easily it was like the last year had never happened. Like he hadn’t defeated the greatest Dark Lord of this age. Like people hadn’t died and suffered and lost so much. He woke up each morning and ate toast and eggs and drank pumpkin juice in the same room that they had laid out bodies. He went to class in rooms that still smelled of construction magic. He looked in the eyes of professors and classmates he’d fought with side-by-side and talked about homework and the future. 

It was a bit surreal. 

But Harry didn’t have time to process this, to think about it. Not that he wanted to. He was happy to carry on. 

Just like he was happy to carry on with Ginny like nothing was going on. Harry knew things weren’t right between them. There was a strange tension, but it was easy enough to ignore, and Ginny didn’t seem inclined to explore it either, so they carried on, as if nothing was amiss and all was well.

They still sat together at breakfast each morning. They had the exact same schedule of classes every day. They had lunch together, dinner. Then back to the common room, where Gin would snuggle into his side as they studied and chatted with their housemates. 

Well, while Ginny chatted. 

Harry had a hard time mustering up any interest in these new year-mates. Their faces were familiar, but in a hazy way, and he had no idea what their names were, unless Gin took a moment to remind him. Otherwise, he just couldn’t be bothered. 

Harry hyper-focused on classes. It was amazing how much easier that was to do when there were no nefarious plots and plans brewing in the background. Charms rolled off his tongue. Transfiguration laws simply came to him when called. Potions bubbled and boiled and turned the right colors (mostly). Things moved a bit slower in Herbology, but so far nothing had bit or maimed him. 

And, of course, there was Defense. 

Snape was a different teacher, but Snape was also the exact same teacher. He was short, cold, and impatient. Still rigid and demanding, but more uniformly so. He didn’t favor one house or student over any other. He was exasperated with and annoyed by everyone equally. He didn’t expect anyone to be capable of rising to his standards.

Especially not the wretched Boy Who Lived, Harry Bloody Potter. 

It was like the summer had never happened. Like they hadn’t shared meals and space and walks around the grounds. Harry hadn’t thought they were mates now or anything, and he definitely didn’t expect special treatment, but he thought Snape would…try, maybe. Would maybe show, at the very least, a passing interest in Harry’s life. But Harry didn’t even rank as gum on the bottom of his boots. He wasn’t rude or condescending or anything, not more than usual anyway. Harry had nothing to latch onto specifically to complain about. It was just lacking and Harry felt hollow about the whole thing. 

He missed the summer, and he missed Snape, and he wondered if he would have been better off not returning. Better off just coming to Hogwarts each morning to bug the man into socializing with him and then leaving.

He raised his wand to try the spell again. 

“Enough.” Snape climbed the small dais at the front of the Defense room. “You all need more practice. Two feet on the advantages of nonverbal spells, due in class Tuesday.” Then, with a sneer, “Dismissed.” 

**********

The Order meeting location had moved once more. They were now in a large room above the Three Broomsticks. Chairs had been set up in row after row after row. They lined the walls and were packed tightly, pressing against and overlapping over one another. Kingsley and McGonagall were obviously determined to fit all hundred plus that wished to attend inside this one space. Unfortunately, when the meeting finally started, there were still people standing, people peering in through the doorway and lining the stairs down to the bar.

Harry found a seat towards the back and Ron sat next to him. With all of the shifting and squeezing in of Order members, Ginny had wound up sat on Harry’s lap, nestled sideways with one arm around Harry’s neck and her legs crossed and tucked up in Harry’s not substantial lap. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her in place. Her hair kept tickling his ear and he had to lean into Ron’s personal space to see anything going on around him.

Most of the leaning Harry was doing was in order to check on Snape. This was the first Order meeting that they hadn’t gone to together, at least since Snape woke up. He’d hoped that he’d be able to sit with Snape, but Gin, Ron, and Hermione and the other DA members had all settled around him by the time Snape walked in with Madam Pomfrey. Harry might be imagining it, but Snape seemed to pause when he walked in and scanned the crowd for Harry. Harry smiled at him when their eyes might, but Snape only pressed his lips together and walked to a seat off to the side and towards the front. Nobody sat next to him for the longest time, and Harry thought of offering his chair to Gin (she had to be uncomfortable perched on Harry’s bony thighs). Then he could sit next to Snape. But before he’d mustered up the courage, Andromeda had taken the seat, speaking close and subdued with Snape. Harry wondered what they were talking about. Snape didn’t look bothered, or no more bothered than usual, so Harry guessed they must be all right. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Kingsley said, his voice boomed out, filling the whole room without any amplification charms. “With the school year properly underway, we have decided to headquarter ourselves here. The Order thanks you profusely, Rosmerta.”

Everyone clapped as she stood and waved them off, looking thinner and older than Harry remembered.

The agenda for the night seemed much the same as every other one of these things: Ministry updates from Kingsley, Hogwarts updates from McGonagall, MLE updates from Robards. There was a moment when Kingsley stopped and looked in Harry’s direction. Harry shifted his eyes away quickly, letting them land on Snape. Gin squeezed the back of his neck and whispered, “You okay?” in his ear. 

Snape turned and met his eyes as Harry nodded and said, “Yeah, of course.”

Harry turned back to Kingsley in time to see something loosen and let go in the set of his jaw. He smiled, small and disappointed and asked if anyone had anything to add. They didn’t. And Kingsley ended the meeting. 

Everyone stood up and, given the crowding, trickled towards the door. Harry and them were at a bit of a stand still where they were. Hermione pulled Ron aside and was whispering frantically in his ear. Ron’s brow contracted incrementally as he looked between Gin and Harry. Harry watched and panicked as Ron’s glare became hotter and hotter and more and more directed at Ginny alone. 

Harry had to look away from it. He found Snape in the crowd, stuck behind a gaggle of chatty people, his arms crossed and his frown carving lines down the sides of his face. Without much thought, Harry stepped up and over the chairs, then over the next row and the next, high above the crowd with his tangle of hair brushing the ceiling, much to the delight and bewilderment of those around him, and made his way towards Snape. 

Snape’s eyes went wide and his mouth went a bit slack (slack for Snape) as he watched Harry plow over people and furniture to get to him. He finally cleared the last of the impediments and hopped down in front of Snape. He blew out a breath, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he greeted the bewildered man. “Hello, sir.”

Snape’s eyes darted about. He straightened his spine and replied, “Potter.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to—”

A hand landed heavily on Harry’s shoulder and Kingsley’s voice, cheery and resonant, said, “Harry! How have you been? How is Hogwarts?”

He tore his eyes from Snape and said, “Good. Great. It’s, you know, it’s school.”

Robards joined Kingsley and Harry’s jaw clenched. He could see Snape retreating away from them, and Harry wanted to punch Robards, and clamor his way back over the chairs and crowds and join Snape somewhere far away from this conversation.

“Taking all the NEWTS you need for the Auror Program, yes?” Kingsley continued. 

Harry nodded. 

“If he still plans on joining,” Robards added.

Harry crossed his arms and responded, more harshly than he intended, “I told you I was.” 

The room emptied around them. Harry watched as Snape slipped out the door and down the stairs. 

“Good, good. All in his own time, Gawain.” Kingsley smiled and clapped Harry on the shoulder again. “Let him have one more year.”

Robards hummed and scratched his nose, not looking at Harry anymore. Harry took a moment to wonder if he should maybe not be a dick to this guy, his future boss, then he dismissed the idea. 

Harry pulled away from Kingsley’s grip. “I should go find someone to walk back to the castle with.”

“Yes, of course,” Kingsley said. He pointed a finger at Harry. “See you next month, Potter.”

Harry nodded and left. He took the stairs two at a time and emerged into the crowded bar. Many Order members had stopped off for a drink and dinner. Not Snape though, not that Harry had expected him too. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Rani were waiting for him by the door. 

“Thanks for waiting,” Harry said.

“Didn’t want you to walk alone,” Ginny said and took his hand. 

Ron glanced down at their hands and pursed his lips. Ron’s arm was wrapped around Hermione’s waist and he steered her outside. Rani grabbed Luna’s hand and Luna smiled, bright and laconic, and they all left the Three Broomsticks for Hogwarts. 

Luna and Rani walked in front of them and Harry found that his eyes kept going back to their joined hands. Were they dating? Was Luna gay? She’d never said. But Harry’d never asked. Was he supposed to ask? Were other people at Hogwarts gay?

“Ginny, can I speak with you?” Hermione broke into Harry’s thoughts.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, but nodded. 

Ron came to walk beside Harry. He slowed Harry’s pace down a bit, letting the others go on ahead a bit. Ron and Harry were bringing up the rear now. Luna had charmed little balls of light to float over their heads and follow them up to Hogwarts. It bounced off the trees around them and cast strange shadows along the path. The sky was clear and starless and all was quiet, only the whisper of the conversations in front of them reaching their ears.

“You okay, Harry?’

“Yes. You?”

“I’m all right.”

Harry nodded and trudged on.

“You can tell me things, you know?”

“I know.”

“I know I’m not the most…” His lips twisted and pulled as he chose a word. “…emotional guy. But I understand things. I would understand things.”

Harry sighed. “Hermione said something to you.”

“Don’t get mad at her.”

“I’m not. It’s embarrassing is all. I would’ve asked you, but it’s your sister.”

“Yeah, but we’re mates so, if you need something, I’m here for you, yeah?”

Harry watched his feet crunch over leaves and dirt. He glanced at Ron, and looked away, looked forward up the path. Hogwarts stood tall and shadowed ahead. Ginny peeked at Harry over her shoulder, her long hair catching the white light of Luna’s magic. She smiled at him and Harry smiled back.

Harry said. “We’ll figure it out.”

Ron chewed on his bottom lip. “Okay. If you’re sure.” 

“I am. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing anyway.”

**********

The invisibility cloak sat folded up at the end of his bed. Harry could feel the weight of it on his feet. He wiggled his toes and waited. He twisted Gin’s ring round and round on his finger. Once the dorm had been still and silent for a full hour, he planned to throw the cloak on and sneak down the stairs. 

After reaching the castle, Ron had kissed Hermione and disapparated back to the Burrow and the rest of them had made the long walk up to the front doors. Luna and Rani went off to the Ravenclaw Tower and he, Hermione, and Ginny went off to Gryffindor Tower. They chatted a bit and that is when Harry came up with the plan. 

It wasn’t his most intricate plan. It was incredibly simple, actually. He’d gotten ready for bed: brushed his teeth, put on a pair of pyjamas, and fluffed his pillow, before pretending to go to sleep like everyone else. He’d wait and wait, then creep down the stairs and through the portrait hole, then down, down, down to the dungeons. He’d knock and knock and knock on Snape’s door until the man let him in. 

Harry checked his watch. The time had come. He sat up and wrapped himself in the cloak. He rolled out of bed, slowly and carefully. He slipped his trainers on, stuffed his wand into his waist band, and left the room.

Everything went exactly as he’d thought, including needing to knock excessively before Snape opened the door. 

Snape, upon seeing that nobody was standing out the door to his quarters, narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Potter.”

Harry grinned beneath the cloak. “Can I come in?”

“Why?”

“Because. Just let me in. People are going to think you’ve lost your marbles talking to nothing outside your door.”

“Or,” Snape quirked a brow and twisted one side of his mouth up, “I could simply close the door in your invisible face and go back to bed.”

At that, Harry stood back and took Snape in and found that he was, in fact, wearing a night shirt, that same long, old-fashioned thing, with a black silky robe over it. Harry could see his bare feet. He had dark hairs on his toes. “Aren’t your feet cold?”

Snape looked down, then rolled his eyes, and stepped back, allowing enough space for Harry to pass by him and go inside. 

The room blazed to life as Snape aimed his wand at the fireplace. Harry pulled the cloak off and draped it over the arm of the sofa. 

“You are very much not allowed to be in my rooms, Potter.”

“I was in here almost daily all summer.”

“You were not my student then.”

“All we do it is sit here while I talk at you.”

“That will matter little to the MLE.”

“I’m not even a real student this year. I was supposed to graduate in June.”

“But you didn’t.” Snape snapped each ‘d’ and ’t’ through his teeth. “You are very much still my student.”

“Well, I’m here anyway.” Harry shrugged and let his eyes dart over Snape. “How are you?”

Snape pursed his lips and went into his kitchen nook. “I will be fired.” He took out a kettle and filled it with water. “I will be arrested.” He sat it on the hob and started putting together a tea tray. “I will be further vilified by your adoring throngs of acolytes and damned by the whole of Britain.”

“Surely not the whole of it.” Harry smiled and sat down, twisting his body and pulling his knee up so he could watch Snape work. “A cuppa sounds nice.”

“Never said I would share,” Snape said, not looking up.

“You will.”

Snape sighed, dramatic and gusty, his shoulders lifting and falling with his effort. “You think you are charmingly precocious. You are not.”

Harry propped his chin on his hand and hummed. “I do not think that. Do you think that?”

Snape sent a baleful glare his way and carried the tray over; he’d obviously charmed the water to heat up magically. Harry found it gave the tea a strange tangy taste, but it was getting late so he would let it slide. 

“How was your first week?” Harry asked as he watched Snape set everything down. 

Snape prepared a cup and then settled back on the other side of the sofa, crossing his legs gracefully, like he wasn’t wearing a nightie, like his pale, bare, hairy feet weren’t a mere arm’s reach away. He blew across the top of his tea to cool it. Harry watched the way his hands cradled the cup, steady but light. Not a tremor in sight. Harry had been facetious before about joining him and he waited until Snape gestured to the tray with a nod and gave Harry permission to prepare a cup of his own. 

“My week was dull,” Snape finally answered, when they were both sipping at their tea. “Idiot students, idiot meetings.”

Harry nodded. “Order meetings have very quickly become my least favorite responsibility.” 

“Robards seems to have let up on you though.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, with enthusiasm. “Thank Merlin.”

“Well, you didn’t leave him much choice.”

“That was the plan.”

“Was it?” At Harry’s bemused look, he elaborated. “Was it the plan? To waste a year at Hogwarts to avoid outright declining your place as an Auror?”

Harry bit his bottom lip and lifted his tea cup in front of his mouth. He turned to look into the fire. The logs popped and crackled. Harry pulled his other leg up onto the sofa and sifted until he was sat cross-legged. 

“You don’t have to be an Auror, Potter.”

“I want to be.”

Snape hummed. 

“Do you want to be a teacher still?”

Snape drank his tea. “No. But I have no choice.”

“Of course you do.”

“I really don’t.”

“Well, you will.”

Snape didn’t respond. They sat in silence and Harry enjoyed his tea and the fire and the coolness of the dungeon air. The calm simplicity of this room, in this moment. 

“You didn’t answer before,” Harry said. “How are you really?”

Snape sent his tea cup to float back to the tray with a clink. He pulled his robe more tightly around his body and sank back into the corner of the sofa. “Tired.”

Harry nodded.

“But well enough, Potter. I don’t need a minder.”

“I’m not playing minder. I’m being friendly. You’re my friend.”

Snape sneered and looked at his lap. “I am your teacher.”

Harry scoffed.

Snape glared at him.

“I worry is all.”

“Don’t.”

Harry smirked. “And telling me what to do always works out well for you.”

“You are incorrigible. A truly terrible friend.” 

Harry chuckled.

**********

“Bowtruckles legs,” Harry said and the portrait entrance to Gryffindor Tower swung open. Harry stepped over the threshold and the door fell closed behind him. He pulled the cloak off before looking around the common room, which, it turned out, was a mistake.

Ginny stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed firmly across her chest and lips mashed together into a thin white line. Harry sighed and bunched the cloak up in front of him, like some feeble sort of shield. He walked towards her, slowly, haltingly, chewing at his lip.

When he was directly in front of her, her nostrils flared and “Where have you been?” burst out of her, like she’d been holding onto it for hours. 

Harry needed to be careful, he knew. He had been casual and jokey with Snape earlier, but he did know that there could be repercussions if the wrong person knew he’d been in Snape’s quarters, innocently or not. He said, casually, “Out walking.”

She tapped her foot. “Who were you with?”

Harry scoffed, like Gin was being ridiculous, and shook his head. “No one.”

“Where did you walk to?”

“I don’t know.” Harry narrowed his eyes; each question felt like an attack and his temper began rising to meet it. “Around.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, it is. So what are you doing up?”

Ginny’s eyes darted over Harry. “I am here, where I am supposed to be.”

“Gin, stop. Merlin.” Harry fisted his hands, the ring digging into his skin. He glanced around the room and made sure it was empty, like he should have done straight away, not even four months of peace and he was already becoming complacent with his safety. He huffed, annoyed with himself and Gin now. “You’re acting like I did something wrong.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” She arms slid apart, and she fidgeted and picked at her fingernails before placing her hands on her hips. “I would have gone with you. I would have loved to go with you.”

“I didn’t think of it, Gin. I mean, we’re together all day.”

Her bottom lip trembled and she pulled it between her teeth. “I waited months for you. Years.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He swallowed and tilted his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away. He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning.

“Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not, Gin.” He dropped his hands and shook his head. “I’m not.”

“I just love you, Harry.” Tears sprung from her eyes and she swiped them away with the palms of her hands. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

Gin fell forward against him. He tensed, but still managed to catch her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she nestled into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stop the spinning, spinning, spinning of his thoughts. 

Chapter Text

September rushed past, and then October did the same. The leaves turned orange and yellow, the grass slowly died, and the air became chill and blustery. Classes continued on and on and on, and, without the threat of war and Dark Lords hanging over him, he’d managed to do quite well in them so far. Then, before Harry knew it, they were staring down Halloween.

“Your grades have improved from years past, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall looked at him from across her desk.

 “Thank you, Professor.” Harry smiled. “It’s no small mystery how.”

She chuckled. “One of the world’s greatest, I’m sure.”

Seventh years, like fifth years, had a career counseling session with their Heads of House towards the start of the year. Harry’d put it off as long as he could, but finally McGonagall had forced him to sign up for a meeting time. He’d been dreading it all month. 

He was already in the classes he was meant to take, he was doing well in them, he was going to the Order meetings like they all wanted, he was playing Quidditch, and smiling and studying and sleeping and eating. All the things he ought to be doing. Why couldn’t they just let him be to get on with it?

“Now,” McGonagall continued. “You are perfectly on track with the goal you set during your fifth year.” She interlaced her fingers and brought them up to rest on the desk. “Do you still want to be an Auror?”

“Yes.”

Her lips pressed briefly together, deepening the lines around her mouth. “You, of course, have other options.”

“No.” Harry shook his head and crossed his arms. “I want to be an Auror.” 

“You are aware that you didn’t have to return to Hogwarts to be an Auror. Robards and I had a conversation—”

“I also told him I wanted to be an Auror.”

McGonagall circled her thumbs slowly together. “He thinks you have some doubts.”

“I don’t.” Harry’s shoulders tensed. His skin tingled as his pulse kicked up and set his nerves on edge. “Being an Auror is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”

McGonagall opened her mouth and then closed it again. She leaned back in her chair. “Well, it is certainly the path you are expected to take.”

Harry’s left knee began to bounce and he fidgeted in his chair. He stroked both hands up and down the length of his thighs to still himself. He glanced around her office: her Head of House office, down the hall from Gryffindor Tower. It looked much as it had before the war, but a little emptier. Some of her things must have been moved to the Headmaster’s office. Harry hadn’t decided yet if it was odd that they were doing these meetings in here instead of up there. But he also struggled with seeing the other office as anything but Dumbledore’s. The fact that it had also been Snape’s for a time seemed mind-boggling. 

There was a tin full of humbugs on McGonagall’s desk and piles of colorful pamphlets and brochures about careers, apprenticeships, and graduate studies. 

“Be A Healer!” 

“We Want You…To Be A Cursebreaker!” 

“Plant Plants With Us!”

“Is Potions Research For You? Yes!”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a half-smile. He asked, “Has Hogwarts always done career counseling?”

McGonagall’s eyes widened with the change of subject. “No, not always. They didn’t do it when I attended school here, but they had begun it by the time I started teaching.”

He twisted his ring round and round, a new habit he’d developed. It annoyed him, but short of taking the ring off, he didn’t know how to stop. He pressed his hands down on his legs again, one against each of his thighs, and forced himself not to fiddle with the thing. 

“You did this with my mum then,” Harry said. After she nodded confirmation, he asked, “What did she want to be?”

McGonagall gave him a sad smile, tinged with pity. Harry hated that all too familiar response to questions about his mother, but he was all ears waiting for her answer. 

“Lily wanted to do charm work. She was very good at developing little spells of her own, and she used alchemy to imbue objects with magic.” 

“Wow.” Harry plucked at the fabric of his trousers. “That sounds…complicated.”

McGonagall nodded absently, her eyes lost in a memory. “Yes.”

Harry reached out and touched a finger to the nearest pamphlet. 

“So You Want To Work With Muggles?”

There were so many things about his mother he didn’t know. He’d thought every now and then of asking Snape, but it wasn’t right. It was almost like the Lily Evans of Snape’s memory was a different person from Harry’s mum, Lily Potter. Someone Harry had no business asking about. Harry was an unwelcome blight on something bright and shiny. Lily Evans was off limits and inaccessible. Trapped beneath Snape’s skin, inside his bones, locked away in a time before Harry existed. 

Lily Evans was an ugly bruise that Harry wanted to poke at, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Knew it brought only bitter memories and pain, all tinged with shades of blue and red. She was all of the things that could have been, if not for Harry’s existence.

The world lost her so that Harry could live. And now here he was, in this moment, living that future she’d died for.

He flipped open a brochure about apprenticing. 

He wondered what Snape wanted to be when he grew up, if he’d ever imagined himself growing up the way other kids did. Harry hadn’t, not before everything, not in a real way. 

“Could I have some of these?” Harry gestured to the pamphlets. 

McGonagall’s eyes widened again and her brow went up, but she nodded. “Of course, Potter.”

**********

The wind whipped through Harry’s hair, tossing it to and fro and making it into a great tangled bird’s nest. It’d take him an hour to get the knots out in the shower later. He angled his broom down and dove towards the grassy pitch. The hood of his jumper rippled behind his head like a little cape. He pulled up and leveled himself out, slowing down. 

“Good laps, you lot!” Ginny shouted to them. “Sanders, good speed. Ward, good control in the turns. Potter,” she winked at him, “excellent dive.”

The rest of the team made catcall noises and whistles as Harry flattened his fringe and chewed at a chapped spot on his top lip. 

“All right. Let’s play a match!”

Ginny set it up, casting the alternates (something new Ginny’d come up with that Harry thought was brilliant) as the opposing team. They all flew up into their positions, Ginny released the snitch, and things were off. Harry parked himself in a corner near the Forbidden Forest. He bobbed and weaved and watched the game and got a feel for the wind and the angle of the sun. He loved Sunday afternoon practices. Loved that he could still sleep in in the morning, and that he had a good excuse for not spending the whole of the weekend revising. 

The other seeker stationed himself on the opposite end of the field. The chasers and beaters were a swirl of energy below him until Ginny broke free. She raced across the pitch with the quaffle. She pulled her arm back and launched it through the hoop. Harry whooped and clapped. 

Harry’d been really trying with Ginny the last month or so. He had been attentive and present: walking with her to class, inviting her to study with him in the courtyard, taking walks around the lake, finding little corners around the castle to kiss and cuddle. 

Gin had waited for him, through everything, for years. While he was distracted by expectations, war, grief, and on and on, she’d kept Harry in her heart. She was patient with him as he fumbled his way through this relationship with her. She loved him and he loved her. She didn’t have to but she did.

All of it had made her insecure and clingy, and that was Harry’s fault, or the war’s fault. Which was partly Harry’s fault. So still Harry’s fault. It was his job to reassure her and make sure she was okay. If he wanted this to work, he needed to be what she needed, and he was all-in with Ginny.  

And why wouldn’t he be? She was gorgeous. All that red hair. And she always smelled nice. She was all soft curves and smooth, freckled skin. She was strong too. Harry watched her fly, her legs tight around the broom as she guided it this way and that. The fluid swoop of her body as she reached for the ball and leant into turns. He could imagine the clench and shift of muscles beneath her robes. 

Harry lost himself in the thought of all that power and strength and ability. 

A whistle went off as another goal was scored. Harry glanced around and clapped when he saw that it was his side that gained the points. 

Motion out on the grounds beyond caught his eye. The long, graceful familiar strides of Severus Snape. Harry grinned and turned on his broom to watch him walk. He was stalking towards the Forbidden Forest at a pretty steady clip. Harry would never have been able to keep up— he knew because he’d struggled to do it all summer. He thought about yelling out a greeting, and then felt absolutely ridiculous at the very thought of shouting “Snape!” and waving his hand wildly down at him. Also, Snape’d never be able to hear Harry from way up here. 

Snape collected ingredients from the Forbidden Forest, Harry found out. He would pick flowers and gather roots and herbs, he’d pluck lost unicorn hair that clung to branches and stuck in the underbrush. He could also smoke in there away from prying eyes. But Harry thought maybe Snape was secretly a outdoorsy person, and just liked to take a walk in the woods sometimes. 

Harry watched the man disappear into the tree line. He flexed his thighs were they clung to the broom. Once he couldn’t see Snape any longer, he returned his attention to the practice game, but his eyes kept drifting back to the forest. 

It had been a while since he went on a walk with Snape. He tried to limit his visits down to the dungeons; he didn’t want to abuse Snape’s patience. Also, Gin somehow knew every time he left the dorms. Without fail she was waiting for him, arms crossed and lips pinched, when he returned. 

In fact, if they weren’t dating, and he didn’t know better, he’d stay Ginny was stalking him. She seemed to pop up every time Harry turned a corner. They had the same schedule of classes and activities, but she’d shocked him more than a few times with her uncanny ability to know where he was. It showed how much he’d neglected her the last few months, that she was so desperate to be near him at all times.

But he still missed walking around the Forbidden Forest with Snape. Snape opened up a bit more when he was distracted by an activity while they chatted. 

Harry let his broom swing slowly around, pointing it in the direction Snape had disappeared. 

A loud mix of cheering and groaning brought Harry quickly back round to the pitch. The other team had caught the snitch. Damn.

“Come on, Potter!” Ginny yelled. “Get your head in the game!” 

The alternate seeker, Coates, flew up and handed the fluttery ball off to Gin with a smirk thrown in Harry’s direction. Harry glared at him in return. 

“All right. Let’s go again. Reset!” Ginny held the snitch up as everyone raced around back into position. “And…go!”

Harry tried to focus on the snitch this time, but he kept one eye on the forest and the grounds while doing so. When Ginny ended practice, he knew that Snape hadn’t finished his walk and returned to the castle yet; he was still out there, and Harry planned to join him.

While Ginny was distracted talking to the other Gryffindor Chasers, Harry took off over the stands and toward the Forbidden Forest. He flew low over the tops of the trees and searched for Snape. All in black and light-footed, Snape wasn’t an easy man to find in the woods, but Harry still managed it. 

He spotted Snape meandering his way down a path. He didn’t seem to have a goal or purpose in mind, just walking and trailing his fingers along leaves, pushing low limbs out of his way. Harry watched him, careful not to make noise or give away his presence. Snape’s health had improved immensely over the last two months. His strength and agility returned to him like he hadn’t knocked at death’s door five months ago. He was a marvel. 

Snape stopped and pulled something from his pocket, the cigarette packet, and used his wand to light one. He inhaled, held it, and blew out a white cloud of smoke. 

“Those will kill you, you know?”

Snape snapped around, wand pointed at Harry. Realization flooded his face and he clicked his tongue. He lowered his wand as Harry let his broom sink through the branches. Harry’s feet touched the loamy forest floor and he dismounted. 

“Hello, Snape.”

“Potter.” Snape tucked his wand up his sleeve and brought the cigarette back to his mouth. “Stalking me now?”

Harry smirked. “A little bit. I’ve had loads of practice over the years.”

Snape harrumphed and sucked in another load of tar and tobacco smoke. Harry watched his fingers bring the cigarette up to his mouth, watch his lips encircle the tiny stick. So much of Snape was sharp and hard and angular, it jarred something in Harry’s gut to notice these soft bits. The elegant length of his nimble fingers. The gentle curve of pink red lips. 

Snape’s lips weren’t chapped and rough like Harry’s. Harry pulled his own lips between his teeth and bit down, unaccountably embarrassed. 

“You can’t have one, stop starring at it,” Snape said.

Harry scoffed, throwing off the flutter of emotion. “I did buy them, you know.”

“You did not.” Snape continued walking along the path. “I finished that pack ages ago.” 

Harry followed him, his broom over his shoulder. “What are you looking for today?”

“Quiet.”

Disappointment pierced him, and Harry tripped on a stone. “Oh.”

“Clean air.” Snape exhaled another cloud of smoke and threw down the nubby end of the cigarette. He flicked his wand and it disappeared. “Quidditch practice over then?”

Harry nodded. 

Snape, it turned out, much to Harry’s delight, was an actual Quidditch fan. He didn’t follow the professional teams quite like Ron, or even Harry, and he didn’t play or anything, but he took a great deal of pleasure in the superiority of the Slytherin team and he liked making bets with the other professors. 

Harry said, “We are doing pretty well, I’d say. Definitely going to be kicking some Slytherin butt this year.”

Snape twisted his mouth to the side. “My house is in shambles, so yes, you likely will.”

Harry flattened his fringe and switched his broom to the other shoulder. Snape brought his burlap sack out from where he had it tucked under his arm. He coughed and cleared his throat, raspy and rough. He always did that after he smoked. It sounded dead painful. 

Snape wiggled between a couple bushes. He walked over to a tree just off the path and Harry watched him push at something with his boot. He shifted some roots out of the way and revealed some blood red flowers that Harry didn’t recognize but Snape looked pleased about. Snape bent over and delicately plucked one. He straightened, holding it between his thumb and middle finger to show Harry. 

“Vampire’s Kiss.”

“I’ve never—”

“It only blooms in October.” Snape spun it slowly between his fingers. “Very useful.”

“Very pretty.”

Snape shrugged and placed it gently in his bag. He crouched down, and coughed again. (He really should stop smoking.) He placed the bag next to his find and reached under the roots for another flower. His hair caught on the bark of the tree and he huffed in annoyance and pulled it back. He gathered all of his hair in one hand and twisted and twisted and, through some magic Harry marveled at, managed to secure it back in some low, little bun thing. 

Another soft bit of Snape was revealed: the white, shiny curve of an ear. Small and thin and all delicate whirls and nooks. Harry had the weirdest desire to reach out and trace it with a finger. 

Harry cleared his throat and stepped back. He looked up the path and then down. He touched his own ear, following the curves and dips of it with his finger. It felt nice, soothing. Harry shivered. 

Snape stood up and stepped out of the bramble and back onto the path. He looked at Harry and his brow gathered. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone a funny color.”

Harry dropped his hand and drew in a shaky breath. What was wrong with him? He felt hot and cold and edgy, like he was staring down a hippogriff.

He swallowed and his throat bobbed with something thick and heavy. He shook his head. 

Snape looked at him askance and continued walking. “You do not need to follow me around. You can return to the castle if you are unwell.”

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” His voice did some strange wobbly thing. “Mostly fine. I think.”

They walked a little further, in silence, though Snape kept shooting little looks his way. He broke off twice more, gathering the same red flowers. As Harry’s disquiet grew, so it seemed did Snape’s. Harry could feel it in the tension in his shoulders, the set of his brow. He looked like Professor Snape instead of Snape.

“My health is much improved.” Snape said, tightly. “You need not worry any longer.”

“It’s not really that. I just like walking with you.”

Snape’s face pinched together and then loosened. He hesitated, dug his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, and said, “My pardon cleared the courts.”

“What?” Harry stopped and grabbed Snape’s bicep. His face split into a smile. “Why didn’t you say straight away?”

Snape lifted one shoulder and continued walking, but Harry could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile, just a little twitch upwards, and his whole demeanor changed, all of the tension bleeding away. 

Harry continued with him, sidestepping to keep his body angled and facing Snape. “That is fantastic.” Harry’s smile was so wide it made his chapped lips hurt. “Snape…”

“Hm.”

“You should celebrate.”

“And exactly how would I do that?”

“I’ve no idea.” Harry thought a moment. “A cake.”

Snape scoffed. The closest he got to a laugh.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Harry said. “Chocolate. Do you like chocolate?” Snape nodded and Harry continued, “With lettering on it and everything.”

“And what will the lettering say, exactly?”

“Severus Snape is Free.”

Snape rolled his eyes. He peered over a bush and shifted some branches. He turned back to the path and kept walking, but he the tightness had returned to his face, something hard and sad, and Harry had the distinct impression that he’d said the wrong thing.

**********

“I have ever so many options, of course.” Hermione tucked a loose curl behind her ear. 

And there was an ear he’d never given a second thought to. It’d been nearly a week and he still found himself thinking of Snape’s.

Hermione continued, “Every time I’ve tried to narrow it down, I remember why I wanted to pursue another path of study.”

Harry spun the ring around his middle finger, pulling up over his knuckle and twisting it back down again. 

The common room bustled with the usual energy of a Friday night before a Hogsmeade weekend. Groups of students clustered around tables, couches, on the floor. He and Hermione had secured themselves the window seat. Mostly, he could only see darkness beyond the glass, but vague outlines of trees and the lake and other towers presented themselves if Harry squinted. 

Hermione had her pamphlets from McGonagall’s counseling session spread out in the space between them. Harry picked up one about broomcraft. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You aren’t seriously considering this one are you?”

Hermione barely glanced up as she muttered, “I like to consider all of my options.”

Harry lifted one eyebrow and replaced the pamphlet. Then, he picked it up again and flipped through it. Broomcrafting. “What are your top three?”

Hermione leaned back against the wall, crossing her legs in front of her, she ticked off her answers on her fingers. “Rights protections for magical creatures. Arithmantical applications in spell creation. Runic research…”

“Not magical dentistry then.”

“No. Of course not.”

Harry tilted his head. “Nothing medical at all.”

“No.”

“I thought, maybe, on account of your parents, you’d want to.”

Hermione shook her head, her brow scrunching up. “Is that why you want to be an Auror? Because of your dad?”

Harry put down the broomcraft pamphlet and picked up one about earning a Potions mastery. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.” He picked at the corner of it with his fingernail, peeling it apart. “It’s just the only thing I ever wanted to do.”

“You are allowed to change your mind.”

“I know.” Harry unfolded it. There were pictures of jars and cauldrons. Wizards and witches in dark robes watching over apprentices and students at work over steaming brews. “Do you know anything about alchemy?”

“A bit. Not a great deal. They don’t teach it at Hogwarts any longer.”

“They used to.”

Hermione nodded. “You’d have to find a master or a graduate program. It’s not a very popular field.”

“McGonagall said that’s what my mom wanted to study. Alchemy and Charms.”

“You could—”

But what Harry could do never made it out of her mouth as Ginny plunked herself down on the tiny bit of sill that was left next to Harry’s hip.

“What are you two doing?” She asked, glancing at the array of pamphlets and brochures spread out on the window seat. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, career planning. Dull.”

“It’s not dull,” Hermione said, offended.

Ginny shrugged. “I already know what I want to do. So does Harry, yeah?” She nudged him with her elbow.

Harry tried for a smile and nodded. 

Hermione bit her lip and looked at Gin. “What are you planning to study?” 

“Quidditch.”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Quidditch.”

“Yes, Quidditch. Why not Quidditch?”

“Well, I mean, long-term…it’s not a sustainable career.”

“So, I find something else to do after my successful run as seeker for England’s National Team.” Ginny smirked. “Who knows what I’ll want to do by then?”

Hermione, frustration writ across her features, said, “You should know.”

Ginny shook her head and threw an arm around Harry’s neck. “It’ll work out. And Harry’s going to be an Auror. We will be alright.”

We?

Hermione crossed her arms, her lips mashed together, holding in whatever she really thought of Gin’s plan.

Harry cleared his throat and picked up a brochure about small business loans. “How do people go about picking a career when they are older?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, say you change your mind, or,” he nodded towards Gin, “your illustrious Quidditch career ends. Can you still go for a mastery or an apprenticeship or something when you are forty?”

“Of course, if you can find a master willing to take you in or a program that will accept you.”

Harry wondered what Snape wanted to do, if he’d thought about it. He must have thought about it. He didn’t like teaching and soon he’d be free to leave Hogwarts. He could do anything he wanted. Harry imagined him sitting in his quarters, or his office, piles of pamphlets and brochures in front him, ones he was meant to give out to the students he was advising, but secretly he read them all while he had his afternoon tea. Which ones appealed the most to a man like Severus Snape?

“You know,” Hermione started, and her voice had an odd high quality to it that had both Gin and Harry looking up at her. Harry was on tenterhooks waiting, and then Hermione said, in one great rush. “You shouldn’t rely on Harry being an Auror for your future income.” 

“Hermione,” Harry said, or more gasped out, on a single exhale.

Gin’s hand tightened on his neck, making Harry flinch. She shot back, “And why not?”

“A lot of reasons. If you think about it.” Hermione stuck her chin up. “And you should.”

Gin glared across at Hermione. Her nostrils flared and Harry could see the tips of her ears going red enough to match her hair. Hermione held her stiff pose, but her eyes kept darting between Harry and Gin.

Harry didn’t know what to say. He agreed. He hadn’t known until a moment ago that he figured in anyway into Ginny’s long-term career and financial plans. Harry had barely considered his own, actually. 

Gin said, firmly, “Mind your own business, Hermione.”

Hermione huffed. She looked at Harry, hard. Harry shook his head, small and quick, just enough for Hermione to see, but not enough to draw Gin’s eye. This fight was really not worth it. 

Hermione’s face crumpled, she bit her lip, looked down at her lap, and then out the window.

**********

Halloween dawned bright and surprisingly cold. After a nice lie-in and a hearty breakfast, dozens and dozens and dozens of students swarmed into the courtyard to present their permission slips for Hogsmeade. McGonagall and Flitwick had everyone through the queue in a timely manner. Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were waiting for Hermione, Gin, Harry, Luna, and Rani as they passed through the gates. 

Ron scooped Hermione into his arms and spun her in a circle while she screeched and giggled and clung to his hair. 

“Gross. Get a room, you two.” Seamus screwed up his face and threw an arm over Rani’s shoulders. He steered her down the path to Hogsmeade, Luna and Dean ambling along beside them.

Ron waggled his eyebrows at Hermione. “Want to?”

Hermione giggled some more as Ron let her drop. She whispered into his ear as they walked away after the others, plastered to one another’s side. 

Gin sighed, looking after them wistfully, and she laced her and Harry’s fingers together. Neville glanced down at their joined hands, curled his lip at Harry, and turned down the path to follow after everyone else. 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Neville’s retreating back. He so tall and fit now; where had the lanky little wuss gone? The one that cowered at the mere thought of Snape or Malfoy. Now, he had the balls to glare at Harry and test his patience. Ginny tugged at Harry’s hand, pulling him from his thoughts, so they could walk to the village and start their free day.

Hogsmeade was packed, and, amazingly, unlike Diagon Alley, the shops were perfectly in tact and functional. Like the war hadn’t reached it, hadn’t touched it. They all spent the morning wandering from shop to shop, Zonko’s and Honeydukes and Dervish and Banges and Scrivenshafts. Harry didn’t care at all that he was looking at quills and robes. He was just happy to be out and doing something simple and innocent and familiar. 

They stopped into the Three Broomsticks for a late lunch. By some miracle, they managed to snag a large, circular table off in the corner. Ron and Dean went off to gather a round of butterbeers for everyone. Seamus was telling a story about one of the Defense trainers at the Auror Academy and he had everyone laughing and grinning, even Harry.

Harry draped his arm over the back of Ginny’s chair and looked around.

The pub was full to the brim with students and Hogwarts staff. Harry craned his neck around to check for Snape, but didn’t spot him. Slughorn and Hooch, the day’s chaperones, were at the bar talking loudly and gesturing wildly.

“Who are you looking for?” Gin asked.

“No one.” Harry smiled at her and she smiled back, but her eyes did their own search of the room.

Ron and Dean returned and passed out mugs before sitting down with their own. 

Seamus asked, “When are you going to be joining us, then, Harry?”

All eyes turned to him. 

“Joining you for…”

Seamus rolled his eyes. “Auror training.”

Oh. Harry shrugged.

Neville scoffed. “He’s waiting for Snape to volunteer to join him.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists, he felt his knuckles pop and shift beneath his skin. There was some chuckling around the table. Ginny leaned into him and placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing.

“Stop it, Neville,” Ginny said.

“Oi,” Ron said, placing both hands on the table. He at least still had a half a foot on Neville, and more than a stone. “We’ve had a nice day, haven’t we? Don’t go wrecking it with whatever’s bothering you about Snape and Harry.”

“It’s ‘Snape and Harry’ now, is it?” Seamus leaned forward across the table and Dean pulled him back by the shoulder.

“It’s not anything,” Harry said, looking right at Neville. 

Ron added, “Don’t be a fucking twat, yeah.”

Rosmerta sidled up to the table at just that moment, eyebrows near her hairline. “Everything all right here?” And then, when nobody responded, “Can I get you lot something to nibble on?”

Everyone was quiet, staring either at one  another or down at the table. 

“I’d like soup,” Luna said, bright and chirping. “Any kind that’s good and warm.”

Rani nodded, smiling. “Me too.”

Ron drummed his fingers on the table, gave Neville one last stern look, and ordered a hamburger and chips. They went in a circle after that,  putting in their orders until they got to Harry.

“‘m not hungry.”

“Harry,” Gin said. “Eat something.”

“Don’t be so bloody dramatic, Potter,” Neville said. 

Harry’s blood went hot. “I’m not, Longbottom.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey!”

“Neville!”

Harry clenched his jaw. “I’ll have soup too, thanks.”

Rosmerta looked at them all, glancing and glaring and tapping her foot. Her eyes did one last sweep over all of them and then she left for the kitchen. 

Everyone went silent again. Harry met Ron’s eyes, and then Hermione’s. 

“Neville,” Hermione said, decisively. “How is your apprenticeship going?”

Neville rubbed his hand along his jawline and stared at Ginny. He sighed and tore his eyes away from her to answer Hermione. “Good.”

They chatted a bit about his responsibilities and what he was learning. Harry tuned them out. He pulled his arm from the back of Ginny’s chair and crossed them both against his chest. Gin tucked herself in tight against him, touching him from ankle to hip. She leant forward, putting her elbow on the table, and turned her body so all that Harry could see was her face and the fan of her hair.

She had a frantic look to her eyes. Harry’s brow lowered as he considered her. She pulled her bottom lip between her perfect, white teeth. Harry shifted and pulled away from her. Her eyes went bright and sad and she sat back with a huff, blinking.

Lunch made it to the table and another round of butterbeer was purchased, but they couldn’t recapture the joviality from before. Neville and Harry were sat seething, and everyone else was somber and edgy. 

Harry was barely holding back from launching himself across the table. 

What did it matter to Neville if he and Snape were friends? It’s not like he brought him around for tea or anything. No one even really knew that he and Snape were friends. He’d kept it hidden, for Snape’s sake. And so what, he’d gotten the man’s name cleared and made sure people knew what he’d done—it was more than he deserved.

Lunch wrapped up and they all paid their bills.

Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand as they left the pub. She sidled up close to him and said, “Let’s go for a walk, just me and you, okay?”

Everyone’s eyes were on them. Neville looked like Harry had killed his toad. Ron watched them with a tight, frustrated look on his face. Harry waved him off and nodded at Gin. 

They walked down the street and turned a corner. Once alone, Ginny pulled him off the path into a little alleyway between the Post Office and the apothecary. 

“I need to tell you something, Harry, but I want you to promise that you won’t get mad.” 

Harry shook his head, his lips twisting to the side. “I’m not promising that.”

“Okay. Okay, but I do need you to try to understand.” Ginny was wringing her hands and her brow was a gathered, wrinkled mess. “Please, just think about what it was like last year for us at Hogwarts. For me.”

Harry braced himself. “Just say it, Gin. Whatever it is.”

She nodded and tucked her hands into her pockets. “Last year, when…everything. When you were gone and I was alone. So alone, Harry. I— Me and Neville…we, we were together.”

Harry blinked, and blinked again. “Together.”

Ginny nodded, her lips pressing into a line.

“What do you mean? Together how?”

Her Adam’s apple bobbed. “Romantically.”

“What? I…I don’t understand.”

“We were lonely, Neville and me, and you and I weren’t together.”

“You said you waited. You’ve said it, repeatedly. You said you waited for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You made me feel so guilty for, for— Ginny.”

“It only happened a few times.”

“Happened…” Harry didn’t understand. Then it clicked. He couldn’t believe he’d been imagining something much more innocent. “You slept with him? With Neville?”

“I’ve ended things though. I swear, I have,” she rushed to say.

“When? During the final battle? During the funerals? Before or after you slept with me?”

“Before you and I.”

Harry stared at her.

“But after the fight at Hogwarts. After you killed Voldemort.”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he pushed both hands into his hair. He turned away from Ginny so he didn’t have to see her face. 

“There was just that once more, after.”

Harry spun back. “What?”

“That night, after the battle. You’d disappeared and I was— there was so much.”

Harry’d been with Snape, at his bedside, watching him bleed and moan and die.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized. The more the idea of it settled in, the more right it seemed. “Is that why he is always touching you and staring at you?”

Ginny shrugged. 

“Oh my god.”

“I’ve told him to stop. That he can’t do that anymore.”

Harry choked out a laugh. “He hates me.”

Ginny bit the corner of her lip and nodded. Then she shook her head. “He doesn’t hate you. Not really.”

“He’s…what? Jealous?”

Ginny crossed her arms and looked away.

“I can’t believe this, Gin.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You poisoned my friendship with him, with the entire DA. Are they all mad at me for stealing my girlfriend back?”

Ginny turned her eyes to the sky. “We didn’t hide it, if that’s what you mean.”

“So everyone knows that you were fucking Neville?”

“Harry!”

“Ginny! Come on, seriously.”

Ginny huffed. “You and I weren’t together. You broke up with me, remember?”

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“I just thought you should know why he’s…why he had been so rude.”

“Rude?”

“Yeah.”

Harry sniffed and his jaw clenched. Rude seemed pretty light. He’d been an utter dick to Harry. He shook his head and looked at Ginny. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

Ginny’s eyes scanned Harry, and then she took a step closer. 

Harry backed away. “No.”

“Okay,” Ginny said, calm. “You’re mad. I get it. I would be mad too if you’d been with someone else.”

“When would I have had the time? I’ve been a bit busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“You disappear constantly. I actually thought maybe…”

“I haven’t, at all.”

Ginny’s brows scrunched up in deep lines of disbelief. “We can move past this.”

Harry chuckled. An automatic response because what he felt was not humor or amusement. His hands curled into fists and uncurled. His heart slammed around in his chest. He needed to get away from here. He spun on his heel and left the alley, Ginny shouting after him. He sped up so she couldn’t, wouldn’t follow. 

He thought he heard Ron call out to him, but he didn’t stop. He just kept moving, leaving Hogsmeade, following the wooded path back up to the castle. It was late afternoon and the sun was just beginning to sink in the sky. The students were still enjoying Hogsmeade and the path ahead and behind him was empty.  

Everyone knew. 

We didn’t hide it, she’d said.

It’s not my business, Potter. Don’t think on it. Snape knew. He had to have known. Why hadn’t he said anything? 

Harry would find out.

Harry was so thoroughly distracted by the anger raging inside his head that he almost missed the sound of another set of footfalls. Almost.

Harry stopped and the echoing steps stopped. He let his wand drop into the palm of his hand. He held his breath and looked around. Woods lined both sides of the path, an easy enough place for anyone to hide, to wait, to watch. Harry’s eyes swept the trees, the brush. He looked higher, in the branches. 

I don’t need a cloak to become invisible. 

Dumbledore’s words rushed at him from nowhere.

I know you’ve never seemed able to resist the draw of stumbling face first into these life-or-death conundrums, Potter, but hear me now. Do not go looking for him.

Snape’s words about Callum Anders. 

Harry’d almost forgotten all about him and their weird encounter in Tesco. Harry slowly moved in a circle. Had he come looking for Harry again? 

Harry needed to get back to the castle. He didn’t want to be caught alone in the woods, face-to-face with a Death Eater. Snape would kill him.

Harry didn’t want to run away either though. He licked his lips and raised his wand, walking backward towards Hogwarts, twisting and turning and trying to keep everything in his sight. 

Harry could feel his pulse in his throat. His joints cracked around where he clutched his wand. His eyes went dry from being held open, but Harry didn’t dare close them. 

He stumbled on a downed branch and caught himself, his wand arm darting left then right. 

Laughing. Talking. Footsteps. Loads of them. Coming from behind him.

Harry spun around and shouted, “Reducto!”

Dirt and leaves shot into the air around a screaming group of Ravenclaws. 

Harry lowered his wand and all the air left his lungs in a huff. 

Everything was quiet as they all stared at each other, Harry with sweat on his brow and the Ravenclaws with their eyes wide and their mouths open in shock. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry muttered to himself. More loudly he said, “I am so sorry.”

They crept around him like he had the plague while Harry continued to apologize. 

Harry pushed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. He glanced around one more time and, forgetting his pride, took off at a run for the castle. The castle and Snape.

Chapter Text

Harry pounded a fist on Snape’s door, blood soaring from the adrenaline of revelation, terror, and exertion. He’d come so far, in so many ways, in only a half hour.

Snape didn’t answer. Harry switched to using two fists to knock. 

He’d been careful and sporadic about his visits to the man’s quarters over the last two months, since school started, but he couldn’t be bothered with conspicuousness right now. He needed to see Snape.

The door flew open and there stood Snape. 

Harry knew straight off that something was not right. 

“Snape.” Harry took a step forward and then back again. “What’s wrong?”

Snape screwed up his face. Not in a Snape way though. In a loose way. Everything about Snape was loose. His arms hung down at his sides. He wore a t-shit with a baggy knitted jumper over it. His shoulders were slumped and rounded forward. His head swiveled around on his neck. The pinky red scars slashed across his throat were in full view. They hadn’t been on full display, for Harry, since he’d guided Snape’s unconscious body back from the Shrieking Shack and deposited him moaning and writhing for Pomfrey to bandage up.

Harry pushed through the door and rounded on him. Snape looked at Harry, his eyes narrowing, and said, “Potter,” with a pop of the ‘p’. He didn’t close the door, just slouched against it.

And then it hit Harry, both the smell and the realization: “You’re drunk.”

“Of course, I’m drunk.” Snape stumbled away from the door and towards his sofa. “Why aren’t you drunk?”

Harry didn’t really have an answer for that. He stepped back over the threshold and peeked out down the corridor, first one way and then the other, before closing the door for Snape. He strode over to where Snape sat on the sofa and, hands on hips, asked, “Why would I be drunk, Snape?”

“It’s Halloween, Potter. Your parents died on this day.” Snape pressed his hands to his knees and bent toward Harry for emphasis. “A million years ago, they did, and you,” he shoved a finger at Harry, “go around every year with a stupid bloody smile on your face.”

Harry swallowed, his blood cooling and draining from his limbs, only to turn and surge hot and fast into his chest. 

Snape licked his lips, his tongue catching in the corner. His eyelids fluttered through an uneven blink. He looked up at Harry and squinted. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Hogsmeade? You are meant to be gone, all day, you’re meant to be.”

“I...um…” Harry’s thoughts tumbled over one another. New ones pushing at the old ones. “I…”

Snape clicked his tongue and sunk back into the corner of his sofa. “Useless.”

Harry’s lips pressed together, breathes panted from nose. He wanted to say something. He came here angry at Snape. He didn’t come here to be called names, to be reminded of his parents. He came here to yell at his friend. 

“I was with Ginny—”

“Ginevra.” Snape sneered through the name, each syllable pushing through his uneven teeth. “You are dating your fucking mother. Do you know that? Well, what you think is your mother. That girl is nothing like Lily.” His voice cracked on the name. “I read what you said, in the paper, what you told everyone. You thought I was in love with your mother. I wasn’t. I could have been, easily. I would have stayed with her forever, if she wanted. I would have loved her, loved her so thoroughly. I would have given her everything. But—”

“Shut up.” Everything in Harry recoiled at this Snape, this exposed, babbling version of Snape. “Stop talking.”

“It’s so easy when you’ve been alone and unloved all your life, to attach yourself to anyone, to anything, that shows you a modicum of affection and loyalty and care. But you’d know plenty about that, wouldn’t you?” He looked up at Harry with clouded eyes. “Those are so easy to give, Potter. So easy. But they are not free of intention or malice. And you don’t owe anyone anything. Especially not me.”

Snape was rambling. A long stream of pent up thoughts drunkly expelling from his brain. Harry wanted to shake him, punch him, make him stop talking. But instead he stood frozen, trembling with his fists clenched, and watched. 

“What do you want, Harry? You.”

Harry flinched and opened his mouth, but Snape wasn’t done.

“You just do whatever they tell you.” Snape raised his hands, palms up. “Sure, I’ll live in a cupboard.”

Harry hadn’t known Snape knew about that.

“Sure, I’ll go to some boarding school in the middle of nowhere. Compete in a deadly tournament for a fucking cup? Why the hell not? Kill a Dark Lord. Okay. ” Snape stood up and stepped close to Harry, chest to chest. “Say this. Do that. Be an Auror. Date the pretty girl.”

“Stop it.”

“You loathed me. You hated me so thoroughly I could taste it. Now, you follow at my heels like a kicked puppy.”

“Please, Snape. Severus.”

Snape reared back, and his eyes darted over Harry’s face. They widened like he’d only now noticed he was saying this all to a person and not a figment. He turned his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and inhaled shakily. “Get out.”

Harry smelled the thick, bittersweet fog of liquor that enveloped both of them now. He followed the lines slashed across the tender skin of his throat, down to the sharp jut of a collarbone. The rise and fall of his chest. The slight tremors that shook his long arms. His delicate fingers curled into fists. Harry took it all in. He took it in and felt it in his chest, in his gut. He wanted to touch and hold and calm. His eyes stung, but he wouldn’t cry.

He spun on his heel and threw himself out the door and down the corridor. He stumbled and caught himself on the cold, slick wall of the dungeons. He pushed himself upright and ran the rest of the way. He took the stairs two at a time and burst onto the ground floor in a flurry of motion and breath.

“Potter?” 

McGonagall.

“Potter, what’s the matter with you? What’s wrong?”

Harry licked his lips, dry from the winter air and from running, fleeing from one place to another to another. Hot and flushed, and he’d barely stopped himself from crying back there. Even now he could feel the burn of something in the back of his throat and the corners of his eyes.

McGonagall pressed forward, glancing behind him. “What were you doing down there?”

Harry scoffed and threw his head back, forcing his lungs to take in air, in and out. Willing his pulse to right itself. What a mess he must look. A disaster. He was a disaster. He closed his eyes. 

He shifted and straightened and said, “I was looking for Snape.”

Her mouth pinched itself into a tight white line and her brows rose. 

“Something happened.” Harry shook his head, knowing he needed to divert her attention from Snape, needing to divert his own attention from Snape. “On my way back from Hogsmeade, something happened and I wanted to tell him about it.”

“What? What happened?”

“Someone was following me.”

“Are you alright?” In a flurry of motion, she was at his side. 

He nodded and explained to her what had happened on the path to Hogwarts. Halfway through she pulled him off to the side, away from prying ears and eyes.

“Perhaps it was an animal. A bird.” McGonagall ran a finger across her lower lip. “Or a student playing a prank.”

“Maybe.” Harry winced, screwing up one side of his face. “But this wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Over the summer. Someone followed me around while I was shopping, in London. Then, they were standing outside Grimmauld Place when I got home.”

Her nostrils flared. “And you said nothing?”

“Well, I told Snape.” Harry shrugged. 

She huffed.

“He said my description of the bloke sounded like someone called Callum Anders.”

“A known Death Eater. And neither of you thought to bring it up at an Order meeting?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t…I don’t know. It didn’t seem important.”

“It is, Potter. It very much is important.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m disappointed in both of you.” She moved around him, making to go down the stairs, to Snape.

Harry shook his head. “Don’t.”

She stilled. “And why not?”

“He’s…not himself, right now.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Harry looked down at his feet. “And he doesn’t know anything more than what I just told you.”

She tilted her head and looked Harry up and down. She turned back to him. “Come to my office, Potter. Have some tea with me.”

“No, thank you. I—I kind of want to be alone, for a moment.”

“Are you sure you are alright? You look peaky.”

Harry chuckled, small and shaky and one stiff breeze away from a sob. “It’s been a strange day.”

She nodded, slowly. “Why did you return early from Hogsmeade? Where are Miss Granger, Miss Weasley?”

Harry backed away. He could not have that conversation with her. “I do feel a little off, actually. So that’s why. I don’t need tea or the infirmary or anything though.”

“Perhaps a nap.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Her eyes assessed him, from his muddy trainers up to his damp, mussed hair. She said, “Go then.”

Harry clutched at the dismissal and dashed up the stairs towards the dorms.

**********

Harry’d been staring at the curtains around his bed for hours. 

He did feel sick. 

He closed his eyes. 

He felt empty, like a great hollow statue with images pinging around inside of it.

His parents, dead-eyed and cast in green light. 

Ginny and Neville, naked and writhing.

And Snape. Snape mourning, Snape fighting, Snape bleeding. 

Harry pushed his face into his pillow.

Snape drunk and loose, tight and closed-off, angry and glowing.

Snape lashing at him with his tongue. Watching him with dark eyes. Reaching for him with blood-caked fingers.

Harry letting him, taking it. Taking everything.

Harry curled into himself and shuddered.

White, warm light flooded his solitude. Harry turned over and squinted into it. An otter floated over him, looking at him. Hermione’s voice came out of it. “Harry. Please, come down. Let’s go somewhere and talk.” It blinked down at Harry, waiting for him. “I promise Ginny isn’t here.”

Harry huffed and flopped over. He pulled the curtains apart and was surprised to open them to darkness. Though, he supposed, he shouldn’t have been. 

Earlier, he had thrown himself down in bed still fully clothed. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his shoes. It helped that all he had to do now was trudge down the stairs and meet Hermione. 

She stood there waiting, shifting from foot to foot. Her hair a bushy riot around her concerned face. She launched herself forward and threw her arms around his neck. She smelled like flowers and something fruity.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry pulled her off of him and glanced around. The room wasn’t empty, a few students still sat around, chatty and animated, high on the adventures of the day with piles of candy and Wizard Wheezes in front of them. 

“Did you know?”

“Of course not.” Hermione looked offended. “How could you ask me that?”

Harry tucked his chin to his chest and shook his head, his thoughts still a jumbled chaos.

“Come.” Hermione took his hand. “Let’s go somewhere private, okay?”

She pulled him from the common room, down a corridor, and up another, until they found an empty, unlocked classroom. Old desks were piled against the opposite wall and the dust in the air made Harry’s throat itch. He threw his back against the wall and slid down. The cold stone floor made him shiver. Hermione lowered herself next to him, hugging her knees to her chest.

Harry twisted the ring round and round and asked, “What happened after I left?”

“Ginny was crying when she came back, and we asked her why, what had happened. She said she’d told you. Ron and I, of course, had no idea what she meant, but everyone else looked uncomfortable. Then Neville hugged her and said it was for the best.” Hermione bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Harry shook his head. Neville hugging Ginny was so very low on his list of worries.

“Ginny told us then. Ron was so mad at them. He yelled at Gin and Neville and made a bit of a scene.”

Harry crossed his legs and plucked at his shoelaces.

“I swear we didn’t know. I thought maybe Neville fancied her, but I never imagined they’d allowed themselves to, to….” She shook her head. “It’s just so wrong. I can’t even say it.”

Harry nodded.

“Are you okay?”

Harry scoffed. “No.”

Hermione frowned, deep lines marking the sides of her mouth. “What are you going to do about Ginny?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Hermione pushed her hair behind her ears.

“I’m glad you didn’t know,” Harry said. “That makes me feel better, at least.”

“Harry…”

“I know.”

She shuffled over and snuggled into him. Harry shifted and adjusted until they melded comfortably together. 

“Hermione. Do you think I…that I’m, bad, at…people?”

“Bad at people?”

“At knowing people. I feel like I never get it right. I never see people right. You know, like see them properly.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“I think,” Hermione started slowly. “I think you have been hurt before, by people. It makes you, judge them by different standards. But it’s not your fault that you and Ginny are having trouble. It’s not wrong to trust your friends not to hurt you.”

“We weren’t together when they…”

“That’s what they said.” Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. 

Harry used his chin to tamper down her hair and press his cheek to the top of her head.

Hermione took Harry’s hand in hers and squeezed. “She’s very sad. I think she regrets it. If that means anything.”

Harry hummed.

“Of course, it doesn’t have to.”

There was a patter of rain against the windows opposite. The steady plinking pattern of it lulled Harry and made his eyes close.  The images rushed back in. His parents. Ginny and Neville. And Snape, Snape, Snape. He opened his eyes and took an unsteady breath. 

“My parents died today, seventeen years ago.”

Hermione pulled back and looked at him, eyes full of pity. 

Harry looked away. “Why has that never occurred to me?”

Hermione’s brow creased. “You were very young when it happened.”

“What’s wrong with me, Hermione?” His voice went high and he pressed his lips together to keep anything else from falling out.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry, and Harry felt very close to tears. He swallowed it down and scrubbed his hands over his face, dug his palms into his eyes. Hermione held on more tightly and whispered reassuring words into his hair.

**********

Hours later, he and Hermione climbed back through the portrait hole. The common room was empty of everyone, except Ginny.

“Ginny,” Hermione stepped in front of Harry. “Not tonight, alright?”

Ginny opened her mouth, her brow creased.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “I don’t care.”

He really didn’t at this point. He was utterly drained. Whatever Ginny wanted to say, she could say. Everything was just noise now, and he wanted to get this over with so he could go back to bed.

Hermione looked back at him, searched his face before nodding and moving away. She shot a look at Ginny as she passed, then one last glance at Harry before she climbed the stairs and left. 

Ginny’s eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. She had her arms crossed tightly in front of her. Her hair was high on top of her head in a messy bun. She’d changed clothes since Hogsmeade, into something soft and worn in. Jeans, with holes in the knees and a jumper with a tear at one cuff. She walked over to Harry, and Harry took a step back. 

She stopped, her shoulders going rigid and rising to her ears. “Can we sit and talk?”

Harry ran a finger over his scar, let his hands push into his hair, and nodded.

They took up two high-backed chairs in a corner. Harry let his body fall into it. Ginny perched on the edge of the seat and leaned forward, lacing her hands together and letting them fall between her legs. 

“Where did you go?” 

Harry couldn’t believe that was the first she asked him. “What does that matter?”

She shook her head and looked down. “I wish you’d have stayed. So we could talk.” Harry only stared at her so she continued, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Harry hugged his chest, lining his fingers up with the ridges of his ribcage. 

“I’m sorry it happened. I want to go back, but I can’t.”

Her eyes darted about. She looked pale beneath her freckles. She seemed smaller since this morning, like she’d shrunk without him. Harry looked away. 

“I swear, I promise, Neville and I are done.”

The fire popped and crackled. 

“Harry…”

“I would have understood, you know. If you had told me.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth. She shook her head. “I didn’t—I couldn’t risk losing you. And if you knew I cheated…”

Harry’s brow creased and his mouth tugged up on one side. “We weren’t together.”

Ginny stilled. 

“You and I, we weren’t anything when it happened.” Harry shifted in his seat and the springs creaked beneath him. He uncrossed his arms, places his hands on the arms of the chair, and ran his fingers up and down the fabric. “I didn’t like not knowing it happened.”

Once he said it, he knew it was true. He didn’t actually care that it had happened. The idea of them together didn’t make him sad or angry. It didn’t make him feel anything. Maybe confused. Mostly, he just didn’t like that it had been kept a secret.

Ginny’s lip trembled. “I promise. Never again.” She slid down to the floor, to her knees, and pushed herself between Harry’s legs. 

Harry pulled back. 

Her eyes gleamed. “Please, stay with me.”

Harry shook his head and she reached up, grabbing it between her hands, stilling him, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were wet, slightly manic. Her skin was perfect, pale and freckled and smooth as silk. Her brows, her hair, was so red, like bright flames. 

Did she look like his mother? Is that why—? 

Harry shut his eyes. 

“Gin, I can’t do this right now.”

He heard her swallow, heard her sniff wetly. “Will you think about it, about us? Don’t let this be over, please. Promise, you will think about it, Harry.”

Harry pulled away from her hands and stood up. He looked down at her. He didn’t know what to make of her in this moment, of them. She looked so unlike the Ginny he thought he knew. 

He backed away from her, nodded, and left her kneeling there on the floor.

**********

Harry spent the rest of the weekend in bed feeling sorry for himself. When Monday rolled around he dragged himself up and out and into the shower, sticky and ripe from huddling in his sheets for hours. 

He entered the Great Hall with his head down, trudging to the Gryffindor table and sitting down. Hermione moved to sit next to him, rubbing a comforting hand across his shoulder. 

“You okay, Harry?” She murmured. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. He rolled his shoulders, looked up, met Hermione’s eyes, and gave her pained smile. “I’m alright. Tired.”

Harry let his eyes stray up to the staff table, and he met another set of eyes. Dark and hard. Snape averted his gaze quickly, but not quick enough to escape Hermione’s notice. 

“Did you have a fight with Professor Snape too?”

Harry watched Snape pick his toast into little pieces and answered, “Yeah, a bit.”

Hermione’s breath caught and Harry looked at her. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hermione glanced up at the table, then down into her tea, and finally looked back to Harry. “What did Ginny say?”

“Exactly what you would expect.” Harry pulled a platter of scrambled eggs over and spooned them onto his plate. “I feel like a moron.”

“Oh, Harry. Don’t.”

Ginny walked through the Great Hall doors then. She straighten her shoulders, lifted her chin, and came over, sitting right down next to Harry. Harry and Hermione both watched her every step of the way.

“Good morning.” Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek. 

Harry recoiled and darted a glance up at the staff table. Snape’s focus was down on his plate, running his fork back and forth through whatever was on there.

Ginny’s eyes were wet, but she lifted her mouth in a quick smile. She leaned around Harry. “Good morning, Hermione.”

“Morning,” Hermione responded, tightly, her eyes going right to Harry. 

Harry gave a small shake of his head.

He looked back up just in time to catch the tail end of Snape, his robes a dark cloud behind him as he left the Great Hall. Harry’s hand tightened around his fork.

The little sleep he’d gotten last night had been riddled with dreams of Snape. Snape crying for Lily Evans. Snape drunk and rambling and clutching at Harry. Snape bleeding and dying, growing paler and paler until he faded away completely. 

The owls swopped in, breaking Harry from his thoughts. They dropped letters, scrolls, and packages up and down the tables. A very familiar owl dropped a scroll in Harry’s eggs and took off again. Harry rolled his eyes and picked it up, flinging bits of his breakfast after it.

He broke the seal and unfurled it, peeking up at McGonagall and pursing his lips when their eyes met. 

Mr. Potter, 

Minerva McGonagall delivered very concerning news to me tonight. 

I expect better from a future Auror. 

All future encounters with one Callum Anders, or any other rogue Death Eater should be reported directly to myself or to the Order as a whole, immediately.

I will see you and Professor Snape at the next meeting and expect a full and precise account.

Gawain Robards

Harry let it roll back up and stuffed it into his robes pocket. 

Hermione watched and asked, “What was that?”

“It’s Robards. I—” Harry shook his head and pulled the scroll out again, just as another owl landed in front of him. His mouth popped open.

Harry handed Robards’ letter over to Hermione. 

He reached out a hand, slowly, carefully, to run a finger down the feathers of the behemoth holding out a scrap of paper to him. He’d never seen this owl before. It was easily the biggest owl he’d ever seen. Harry took the bit of paper. He handed the owl a sausage and it took off, the whoosh of its wings sending full slices of toast scattering across the table.

Potter, 

Please, when convenient, stop by my office. 

I would like to apologize, if you will let me.

Severus Snape

Harry’s heart flew into his throat, or maybe his breakfast did. One hand went to his mouth, covering it and keeping his insides where they belonged. The other crumpled the note tightly into a ball, his knuckles going white around it. 

“What are you smiling about?” Hermione said. “Robards sounds livid with you. And you ran into a Death Eater? When?”

Harry shook his head, dropping his hand and shoving the note from Snape into the pocket of his trousers. 

“And who was that other owl from?”

“No one.”

“Death Eater…” Ginny reached over and took Robards’ letter from Hermione. “Why don’t you ever care what this man writes to you?

Harry stood up. “I need to go.”

“What?” Both Ginny and Hermione chorused.

Ginny rose from her seat. “Where are you going now? I’ll go with.”

“No.” Harry put up both hands. “Stay here.”

He grabbed his bag from under the table and threw it over his shoulders while Ginny searched the note from Robards for some clue. 

“Harry,” Hermione said. “Where are you going? What is this—”

“I will explain about the Death Eater thing later, alright?” Harry backed away. “I need to go.”

Ginny reached for her bag. “I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t be alone if there’s—”

“No, I’m fine alone.”

Ginny’s face collapsed. Harry tried to care, but couldn’t find it in him and, instead of the sour churn of guilt, he felt lighter for it.

Harry turned to Hermione. “I swear I’m fine and I’ll be safe. Yeah?”

He waited for her to nod before he turned and left for the dungeons. 

**********

Snape beckoned Harry inside with a simple, “Enter.” 

Harry had expected Snape to be seated behind his desk, but he was standing, pin straight, next to his chair.

Harry closed the door behind him and walked over. Snape had his arms clasped together behind his back. He had purple circles beneath his eyes, which stood out brilliantly against the paleness of his skin. It must have been a rough hangover. From a distance he’d looked steady, but it close, Harry could see the finest tremble running through him.

“I got your note.”

Snape nodded, tucking his chin as he did it. He opened his mouth, closed it. He pressed his lips together, met Harry’s eyes, and said, “I would like to apologize.”

“You said.” Harry shifted from one foot to the other, he hiked his bag up on his shoulder. “In the note.”

“Of course.” He paused. “First, to start, I should not have allowed you in my rooms,” Snape closed his eyes, “in the state I was in.”

“The state you were in probably made it hard for you to judge whether I should have been in your rooms.”

Snape hissed, “Yes,” out between his teeth.

“I wouldn’t really know though, having never been…in that state.”

Snape crossed his arms. “The things I said—”

“Are forgotten.”

Snape stared, mouth agape. He swayed forward, then caught himself and said, firmly, “No.”

Despite his seeming resolve, Snape looked just as shocked as Harry at the word.

“I should say this,” he continued. “It’s not easy to discuss,” Snape’s face pulled and tightened, as though his insides were being yanked out through his mouth, “certain events. To express certain thoughts—”

“About my mother.”

“Yes, about…about Lily.”

“And how you think I’m trying to date my mum.”

Snape huffed out a breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’d never really thought of it like that,” Harry said. “It’s…unnerving.”

Snape swallowed, his throat bobbing roughly against his high collar. He looked at Harry, hard. He blinked, shifted on his feet, and looked away. “She doesn’t really look like Lily.”

Harry shrugged and waited.

“Nevertheless—”

“And she’s sleeping with Neville,” Harry said, and smiled, tightly. He pointed a finger at Snape. “But you knew that.”

Snape’s mouth snapped shut. He twisted it to the side, lifted one eyebrow, and said, “Still?”

Harry gnashed his molars together. “Ginny says they’ve stopped. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am your teacher, Potter. It is not—”

“You are far more than my teacher.”

Snape rubbed at his forehead with long fingers. “I should not be.”

“It doesn’t matter what should and shouldn’t be.”

Snape dropped his hands and his fingers curled into the fabric of his robes.

“I watched you almost die. You watched me almost die a hundred times.” Harry chuckled. “I fought with you and for you. And you’ve always been there, always, in the periphery.” Harry stepped closer. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hated it, and you. But after everything…you have to know that is no longer the case.”

Snape looked away again.

“I’m not saying we’re…but you have to know I trust you. I confide in you. I…” Harry scoffed. “…like you. I see you as my friend.”

Snape pulled his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. His crooked canine tooth pressed into the thin, pink skin. He looked back at Harry and his eyes were frantic and watching. Harry’s heart pounded away in his chest, but he didn’t stop.

“The things you said were not…nice, but they weren’t cruel. Or even wrong.”

Snape tilted his head and lowered his brow, scowling at Harry.

“You could have said any of those things to me, at any other time, and I would have talked to you about them. Not when you are…in that state. And, it was a lot all at once.”

Snape pressed his lips together.

“But, normally, I like talking to you about…things. Anything.”

“Surely, not anything.”

“Well…there are limits. I can only stomach so much Lockhart.”

Snape’s lips twitched. 

“You could apologize for calling me a kicked puppy. I didn’t like that at all.”

“My apologies.”

“Especially since a lot of the kicking was done by you over the years.”

“My sincere apologies.”

Harry nodded. “We’re okay then.”

Snape’s shoulders dropped. Harry hadn’t realized how high he’d been holding them until that moment. Harry watched as Snape seemed to almost unfurl now, the tension leaving his muscles and making him more open. Brighter. 

Harry wanted to hold onto it, but Snape started tensing again as he worked up to ask Harry, “Did you and Miss Weasley…”

“No. I don’t know. I’m angry with her because she made me think she was all loyal and devoted.” Harry pointed at Snape. “And see? You were right—I return loyalty too easily. I never even questioned it.”

“It did seem rather obvious at times. I thought, perhaps, it was willful ignorance.”

“No, just the normal kind.”

Snape snorted and Harry grinned. They looked at each for a moment, watchful, waiting.

“I have to go to class.”

Snape nodded. He took a step forward and crossed his arms. “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry wanted to reach out and touch, reassure him, but he didn’t. He nodded in return and said, “Anytime, Snape.”

**********

Harry pushed past the flow of students down to the dungeons and reached the entrance hall. 

Ginny stood there, arms crossed, lips mashed together, nostrils flared. The students moved around her, glancing nervously between her and Harry.

Harry was starting to dread crossing the entryway to the dungeons.

“Ginny.” Harry approached her. “You didn’t need to wait for me. I told you I was fine.”

“You had to dash off to the dungeons before class.”

“Yeah, I needed—” Harry paused. “How did you know I’d gone down to the dungeons anyway?”

“You were with Snape. You are always down there with Snape. Why?”

“That’s not really your business.” Harry shook his head. “How do you know that though?”

Her eyes dropped to Harry’s hand, where it was curled around the strap of his bag.

The ring. 

Of course, the ring.

Ginny hesitated, mouth open, and then she stated, matter-of-factly, “It’s charmed to track you.”

Harry reeled back. “You were tracking me? Me?”

“You kept disappearing, and you’d never say where you were or what you were doing.”

“You didn’t trust me? What have I ever done to make you not trust me?”

“You spent all summer with him.”

“And you spent all of last year snogging Neville.”

She huffed. “And then, all of a sudden, Snape is back to teaching and you just have to return to Hogwarts.”

Harry sneered. He glanced around at all of the other students and lowered his voice. “I am allowed to be friends with whoever I want.”

“Friends?”

“So, I don’t think you have much room to point fingers here. In fact,” Harry twisted the ring off his finger and tossed it at her, “we are done. So, you have no room at all in this—” Harry lost his train of thought. And, damn, he really wanted to be eloquent when he dumped Ginny. “You can’t make me feel guilty for anything anymore.”

“Were you doing things you should feel guilty about?”

“Of course, I wasn’t. That is why this is absurd. It’s why that ring was absurd.”

“You can’t do this to me, Harry.” She stepped closer. Harry backed away, but she grabbed his shoulders. “Please, we can work this out.”

Harry bent his head forward. “I don’t want to work it out.”

He pulled away, roughly, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Chapter Text

Ginny didn’t show up to their first class of the day, or their second. 

Sometime after lunch, whispers crept into conversations around the castle. Rumors about a distraught Ginny Weasley, tucked away up in Gryffindor Tower, inconsolable and refusing to leave her bed. There were mutterings about a fight in the Entrance Hall with tears and shouting and Harry stomping away from a red-eyed Ginny.

The dots all connected quite simply from there: Harry Potter had broken up with Ginny Weasley.

Harry ignored all the chatter and sidelong glances. He had no interest in what people thought of the end of his relationship with Ginny. They could speculate all they wanted about causes and reconciliations. Harry had no desire to be a part of any it.

“What did you do with the ring?” Hermione, brow creased and arms crossed, asked Harry as they walked away from the Herbology greenhouses at the end of the day.

Harry brushed off the dragon dung fertilizer from his hands onto his robes. “I threw it at her.”

Hermione chuckled and gasped in the same breath. She threw both her hands over her mouth to cover it. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to enjoy Hermione’s amusement at what should be a somber event.

“It bounced off her shoulder, I think,” Harry continued. “It’s probably on the ground somewhere in the Entrance Hall.”

“Waiting for Filch to sweep it up.” Hermione tried to press away a grin.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from returning it. “Maybe he’ll pick it up.”

“And wear it.” Hermione pressed her fingers to her twitching mouth.

“Or give it to Mrs. Norris.”

Hermione laughed, and then Harry did too. Two Hufflepuffs passed them, shooting dirty looks over their shoulders. Once they turned back around, Harry stuck his tongue out at them.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and said, “I just can’t believe her. The audacity, honestly.”

“I should have known.” Harry shook his head. “The ring was such a random gift.”

“You couldn’t have known. Do not blame yourself,” Hermione said. “Harry, we all watched her give it to you and thought nothing of it.”

Harry nodded; that did make him feel a bit better, a little less like a completely naive moron. Even Snape had looked at the ring. He’d almost touched it. Maybe if he had, he would have sensed something. But it was pointless to look back.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Ron will flip when we tell him.”

“Do you think so? Even with Gin being his sister?”

“Harry, you are practically a Weasley yourself. They will all be shocked by Ginny’s behavior.”

Harry wanted her to be right. He didn’t want to have lost the Weasleys along with his girlfriend. But, regardless, he just couldn’t have stayed with her any longer.

“And then the Neville business as well,” Hermione said as they crossed over the threshold back into the castle. “And honestly, you and Ginny haven’t seemed in sync at all since…well, since the end of the war.”

Harry nodded.

They stopped at the base of the stairs that would take them up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione turned to him, a hand on each of his shoulders, and pulled him close. “This is a good thing, Harry. I promise. You did the right thing, for you. You. And that is what is most important.”

Heat lit up Harry’s cheeks. He looked everywhere but at his friend. 

She pulled him into a hug. Harry, surprised, hesitated before lifting his arms and returning the hug. 

“You’re my best friend, Harry. Ron’s too. We love you and will always be here for you.”

Harry closed his eyes and held on a bit more tightly.

**********

Everywhere Harry went (class each day, the Great Hall for meals, the library to study) people gawked at him. They bent together to whisper fiercely amongst themselves. 

Harry Potter the War Hero had turned out to be Harry Potter the Merciless Heartbreaker.

And sweet little Ginevra Weasley, promised marriage and a happily ever after, had been abandoned and cast aside when all was said and done.

The Daily Prophet even had something to say. They had a whole front page’s worth of something to say, actually. They questioned Harry’s emotional state, whether the strain of bringing down Voldemort and his Death Eaters had caught up with him at last, leaving him an unstable wreck of a man. If he had left the carnage of the battlefield only to tarnish the beauty of young love.

The paper had always spread nonsense, and his classmates had always eaten it up. This was nothing new, but Harry had hoped it would end with Voldemort. But being the subject of idle chatter was his burden to bare, always, it seemed. 

What stung most of all were the quotes in the articles. From Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan, calling Harry ungrateful and egotistical and detached from those that only want the best for him and other such rot.

Harry wanted a space to escape from all of it. 

Someplace quiet and uncomplicated and away from the prying eyes of the whole world.

The dungeon air chilled his skin and made him shiver. Harry zipped up his hoodie and knocked on Snape’s office door. He’d arrived right at the tail-end of Snape’s posted office hours; so Harry quickly received a grunted, “Enter.” 

“Hello, Professor.” Harry closed the door behind him, crossed the room, and settled in one of the chairs in front of Snape’s desk. Snape watched him the whole way. “I have a question about the reading you assigned in class today.”

Snape sighed and looked back down at his marking. “No, you don’t.”

“I might have.”

“The chapter I assigned covered disarming spells. In particular, the mechanics of the Expelliarmus spell.” Snape glanced up long enough to raise a single eyebrow at Harry. “Not a spell that troubles the great Harry Potter.”

Harry pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“Do you even do the readings for my class?”

“Course I do.”

Snape hummed.

“Mostly.”

Snape hummed louder.

“I skim them.”

Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I like a more practical approach. I’m a hands on learner, Professor.”

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“I need to get in there myself and see what makes things tick. Touch it. Feel the shape of it.”

Snape tilted his head and narrowed his eyes further.

Harry shook his head. ”What?”

Snape huffed and rolled his eyes. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip.  “Nothing, Potter.”

Harry tapped his finger tips on the arms of his chair. “Did you see the paper today?”

“I did.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. 

“It’ll pass, Potter.”

Harry nodded, tucking his chin to his chest. “I know.”

Snape looked at his watch, then waved his hand at the door. The lock snapped shut.

Harry continued, “I guess, I don’t understand why people care. It effects their lives not at all.”

“People are idiots. They have small minds, incapable of profound thought, and small lives filled with trifling inanities. They compensate by gorging themselves on the meager droppings of the more interesting.”

Harry smiled. “You think I’m interesting.”

Snape rolled his eyes. 

“More than most, maybe?”

“Possibly.”

“I think you’re more interesting than most, too.”

Snape’s mouth pinched to the side with supposed annoyance.

“What are you marking there?”

Snape sighed and looked at the pile in front of him. “Second year essays.”

“What’s the topic?”

“Shield charms.”

“Can I help?”

Snape opened a drawer. He pulled out a bottle of red ink and a quill. He bent forward to set them on the far edge of his desk, closest to Harry. Harry picked up his chair and saddled up to the desk. Snape handed him a small stack of essays.

**********

“The ring Ginny gave me had a tracking charm on it.”

Snape stilled his hands, a blade in one and a bundle of peppermint sprigs in the other. 

“Did you know? Could you sense the charm at all?”

Snape sent him a baleful look, de-leafed the sprig over his cutting board in one quick motion, and tossed the leftover stick off to the side. He chopped his way through the leaves at blazing speed. It surprised Harry that Snape still had all ten fingers when he finished.

“You think I would let you, you, Potter,” Snape shifted his pile of minced mint off to the side, “walk around with a tracking device on your person?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Snape waved his wand over the board, cleaning it of all residue. He reached for a jar of ashwinder eggs. “Fair enough, I suppose. However, I would never leave your welfare in the hands of a fickle child.”

“I suppose Gin is fickle. She’s not really a child though.” Harry pinched a bit of the peppermint leaves between two fingers. He lifted it to his mouth. And yelped when Snape hit his hand with a stinging jinx. “Ow.”

“Don’t eat my ingredients.” Snape laid three of the pickled eggs side-by-side. “You’re both children.”

Harry rubbed at the sore spot. “Did Dumbledore ever use tracking spells on me?”

“Most likely.” Snape squished one egg with the flat side of his blade. It flattened out and oozed a bit. 

“You don’t know though?”

“For reasons even you could deduce, he did not inform me of many of the means he utilized for the protection of your person.”

Harry nodded. “I can deduce, thanks.”

“I would have, if I were him,” Snape added. “For your safety.”

“I don’t think Ginny had my safety in mind.”

“I very much doubt it.”

**********

“Minerva is quite perturbed with me.”

Harry took a moment to process the informal reference to McGonagall. “Why’s that?”

Snape handed Harry a basket. “The Callum Anders issue.”

Harry pulled his hat down so it covered both his ears. November was marching right on towards December and it was bloody cold in the Forbidden Forest now. Not that it stopped Snape. Harry took the basket. “Ah.”

“Yes.” Snape patted his chest, checking the pocket Harry knew he kept his cigarettes in, and they left the castle. “I had to do a bit of playacting. She assumed I’d already been informed, by you, that you’d thought he’d followed you home from Hogsmeade.”

“I would have told you that day, if…”

“Yes.” Snape hissed out the ’s’.

“I have no idea if it was him or not. Someone, or something, was there in the woods. But, it could have been a squirrel for all I know.”

They reached Snape’s favorite walking path and entered the forest.

Snape said, “She does not appreciate the fact that we never told her about the encounter over the summer.”

“I never thought of it much afterward.”

“Nor I.”

“It was a busy time.”

“Transitional.”

Harry gave a questioning hum.

“It was a time of transition. From one stage of life to the next. Tasks, thoughts, whatnot, have a tendency to pile up and become lost.”

Harry gave a grunt of agreement.

“Your lexicon of sounds has me on the edge of my seat.”

“That’s just where I like you.”

Snape coughed, a choking, painful thing.

“You alright?” Harry thought of patting Snape between the blades of his shoulders but held himself back. “Maybe you should go easy on the smoking today, yeah?”

Snape glared at him.

“Just a suggestion,” Harry said. “Anyway, Robards sent me an owl, telling me off. Saying we’ll ‘have a talk’ at the next meeting.”

Snape glanced at him and cleared the last of the cough from his throat. 

“The man’s utterly ridiculous,” Harry went on.

“He’s your future boss.”

“I know. It’s terrible.”

Snape scoffed. “He already dislikes you. It’s astounding.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m glad you’re chuffed.”

“I know you are a maddeningly oblivious creature, Potter, but you have to know it’s truly your own doing this time.”

“Uh-huh. Alright. You mean unlike when you disliked me for no reason?”

“Oh, Potter. I had an entire lifetime of reasons.”

“The vast majority of them not actually being my fault.”

“I am partially aware of that.”

Snape walked over to a tree. The bark of it looked diseased. Gnarled and discolored. Oozing a golden sludge. Snape sniffed it and reared back. Harry watched and hugged his arms tightly around his ribcage. Snape didn’t let him use warming charms in the Forbidden Forrest. On account of the magic’s effect on some of the ingredients they harvested. Snape’s long fingers seemed to caress the scaly looking tree. They tripped and slid their way down the surface, never actually making contact with the bark.

“Do you still dislike me?” Harry wanted to sound jokey, like he didn’t care, but it came out small and sincere. 

“Come here, Potter. Catch the bark in that,” he nodded his head at the basket in Harry’s hand, “please.”

Harry aligned it under where Snape had touched the tree. Snape used his wand to delicately sheer the bark from the surface. It thumped into the basket, the impact kicking up a sour, rotting smell. Several clumps followed the first, until there was a pale, naked patch on the side of the tree.

Harry peered into the basket and then held it far away from him.

“This is the foulest thing you’ve ever made me hold, Snape.”

Snape’s lips twitched up in one corner.

“You do still dislike me.” Harry pouted, hoping to undo whatever awkwardness his feeble question had left hanging in the air. “I knew it.”

Snape turned away, walking further up the path, and called out, “Maddeningly oblivious, Potter.”

Harry grinned. He tried to stop it by pressing his lips together, by bitting the inside of his mouth. He was not successful. 

**********

“Do you really think I was trying to date my mother?”

Snape turned a page in his book. “Do you really want to discuss this?”

“Yes. No.” Harry pulled his feet up onto the chair and rested his chin on his knee. “Maybe.”

Snape ran a finger down the page he was looking at. “When you are sure, ask again.”

Harry glanced at his own book: his Charms textbook, open before him on Snape’s desk. Harry’d been studying and Snape had been researching. Something to do with vampirism and blood substitutes. They both had a cup of tea next to their work and there was a plate of biscuit crumbs balanced on top of jar of beetle eyes.

“Maybe, I want to ask it, but if I don’t like the answer, I tell you to stop.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Harry wobbled his head back and forth. “Yes. It’s a compromise.”

“What if I don’t like the answer?”

“You can call an end to the conversation too, if you need to. Always, Snape.”

Snape leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. He took a breath and said, “When I see the two of you together, quickly, in passing, I do, sometimes, for a fleeting moment, remember James and Lily.”

Harry pressed his lips together. 

“Your mother had a similar…spiritedness about her as Miss Weasley.”

Harry chewed on his lip. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“And you are much like your father.”

Harry scowled and Snape’s lips twisted to the side.

Snape amended, “Though perhaps not as similar as I once believed, but still, a great deal alike.”

Harry dropped a hand to pluck at his shoelace.

“So, yes, more than a passing familiarity.”

Harry desperately wanted to know his parents, to have a piece of them in his life.  Always it had been there, burning him up inside. He looked at Snape and wondered at the ways it had manifested over and over again in his life. “I don’t think I did it consciously.”

“I don’t believe so either.”

“I don’t even really remember why I wanted to be with her, with Ginny. It was so long ago. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You’ve hardly lived a lifetime, Potter.”

“It feels as though I have.”

Snape tilted his head in concession.

“After everything, I thought I owed it to her to try.” Harry shook his head. “Being with her hadn’t felt right since the summer after Dumbledore died.”

Snape flinched, but attempted to hide it by adjusting his position. 

“It felt easier to just get back together with her.”

“The path of least resistance.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Snape nodded. He leaned forward and pulled his book closer.

“Did you love my mother?”

Snape kept his head down, but Harry saw his shoulders tense and pull up. Harry’s heart thumped a steady beat against his sternum. Snape’s drunken words, denying he loved Lily Evans, had pinged around inside Harry’s head for the last few weeks, keeping him awake and distracting him in class.

“You can say stop. That you don’t want to answer,” Harry reminded him. “I just—It seemed like you did, but you said you weren’t in love with her.”

“I loved Lily, I did, as a sister. Perhaps, similar to the bond you share with Miss Granger or Mister Weasley.”

Harry let his feet drop to the floor.

“She was my greatest friend for a long time. My first friend.”

Harry wanted to ask what friends Snape had had since. The greatest for a long time implied someone had replaced her. Harry knew it would eat him to not know, but he didn’t want to derail Snape.

“Love is an odd thing. It takes many forms. I did not know that then. I do now. I didn’t love her in the manner, I believe, you thought I did. However, that does not make it any less significant to me.”

Harry pushed to the front of his chair.

“I still found strength in the memory of it. In the possibility of such untainted goodness.”

Harry nodded and said, “Every step of the way through the war, through my childhood with the Dursleys, I found strength, determination,” Harry chuckled, humorlessly, “A will to live, I found it in my friends. I could only keep going knowing that something good, someone good, was out there, and that they saw something in me as well. Ron was my first friend. Ever. I don’t know what I’d do without him or Hermione—I would do anything to keep them and their families safe.”

Snape’s brow folded into lines of thought. His mouth opened and closed. He looked away and nodded. “It is a powerful motivator.”

“Sometimes, it was the only one I had.”

Snape met his eyes and said, “Yes.”

**********

“You’ve emerged, then?”

Harry glanced up, took in Hermione’s hands-on-hips stance, and looked back down at his homework. “I’ve seen you everyday since the start of September.”

“Yes, but lately only in class.”

Harry had spent the rest of November and the first bit of December cloistered away with Snape. “I was avoiding Ginny and all of the gossip. Waiting for it to die down.”

“Well, it has.”

“Good because I am swamped with homework.”

Hermione sat down across from him and plopped her bag in the chair next to her. “I think you’re safe here in the library anyway. Ginny doesn’t come in here that often.”

Harry snickered.

“Neither do you, so don’t feel all high and mighty.”

Harry lifted his head a bit and smiled at Hermione.

“Where have you been? With Snape?”

Harry twiddled his pen between his fingers. He sat back and nodded. “The dungeons are quiet and he doesn’t, you know…”

Hermione nodded, slowly. “They’re so cold though. Don’t you freeze down there?”

“If Snape’s not brewing, I use a warming charm. And I bring a jumper with me.”

Hermione’s brow lifted and her head tilted. “You watch him brew?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does he help you revise?”

“Never.”

She shook her head, sighed, and said, “What a waste.”

**********

Hermione linked her arm in Harry’s as they left the castle for Hogsmeade. This was the last trip before the rapidly approaching winter holidays. Harry had not been entirely sure if he wanted to go. One, the last trip had been a disaster. Two, he still wasn’t thrilled about being around gossipy people. And, three, Hermione and Ron would likely spend the day snogging and whispering sweet nothings at each other, leaving Harry to gag by himself behind random bins and bushes.

Harry wanted to get out of the castle though, just for the day. Breath in the cold air and let it prickle his lungs. Bundle up in his cloak, scarf, and hat and drink a hot cocoa at the Three Broomsticks. Buy bags and bags of candy from Honeyduke’s.

He planned to take all of the bags down to the dungeons and see which sweets Snape would eat. Knowing which was the man’s favorite could help Harry with his Christmas shopping.

Hermione jerked against him as Ron came into view and her steps took on a hopping quality. 

They reached the gates and she took off to be predictably scooped up and spun around. Ron grinned after and gave her a smacking kiss.

“Ugh, stop,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Ron pulled him into a bear hug. “Alright, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry wheezed out. “You can let go now.”

Ron let him go. He looked him dead in the eyes and asked, “You okay, mate?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty great actually.”

Ron nodded, his eyes darting over Harry’s face. “Well, that’s good then.” He took Hermione’s hand and they turned down the path. “I couldn’t even believe it when you sent that owl. A tracking charm.” Ron whistled. “I knew something was off about that ring. It just didn’t make sense, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I should have said something, but I never thought my sister would be so devious. Well, I knew she could be, but I never thought she’d do something like that to a boyfriend. Relationships are sacred, yeah? Trust and whatnot?”

Hermione smiled up at him, sweet and saccharine. 

“And that shit with Neville. Neville, Harry?”

Harry smiled up at Ron, too. Hopefully not with the same big doe-eyes that Hermione used, but he was unfathomably grateful to hear these words coming out of Ron’s mouth.

“Harry thought you might take Ginny’s side. I told you you had nothing to worry about, Harry.”

Ron said, “Well, I mean. She is my sister. So, I can’t completely disown her, but I am fully on your side here, mate.”

“Thanks. I really, really appreciate that.”

“So. Hogsmeade.” Ron clapped his hands together in front of his chest. “Where should we start?” 

“I need to stop into Scrivenshaft. I am all out of blue ink.”

“That’s as good a place as any,” Harry said.

“Onward!” Ron pointed up the street and they walked…onward.

Harry spotted Snape just up the street. He stood next to the fountain at the center of town, watching the hustle and bustle of the student body. He must have gotten stuck with chaperone duty. Snape’s eyes swept the street, back and forth. His eyes passed over Harry at first, but they caught and made their way back to him. 

Harry smiled and waved, just a small little spasm of his hand. 

Snape hesitated. His body jerked, like it was resisting waving back. He nodded once at Harry and went back to watching the students.

Ron snickered and asked, “Did you just wave at Snape?”

Hermione elbowed Ron, looking at Harry with wide eyes and pursed lips.

Ron yelped and rubbed his side. “Jeez, Hermione.”

Harry flattened his fringe. “I was, yeah. Waving at him.” He shrugged. “We’re friends.”

Hermione bit her lip and looked from Harry to Ron.

Ron’s brow creased and he wrinkled his nose. “Is he nicer to you or something now?”

“Loads nicer.”

Ron looked at Snape. Then, they all looked at Snape. Snape turned and then Snape was looking at them. Snape frowned and narrowed his eyes. Harry cleared his throat. 

“He still looks like a right prick.”

“He is, but I don’t care.”

Ron hummed. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry said. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Neville and them think he’s using you to get out of Azkaban and for a better public opinion against him and stuff.”

“They’re wrong.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I am.”

Ron stared down at Snape, his mouth turned down. “Alright, mate. Be careful though, yeah.”

“I always am.”

Ron laughed. “Course you are.” 

Hermione and Ron went into the stationary store. Harry let his eyes linger on Snape for a moment longer before turning to follow them. Snape’s eyes pursued him in, one thin eyebrow lifting at the last moment before Harry disappeared inside.

Ron and he chatted while Hermione perused the store’s offerings, picking up different quills, inks, and parchment. Weighing them in her hands and fingering over their textures. She touched and tested everything, the way Snape did when he brewed.

Harry twisted the skin on his finger, where the ring used to be. His jaw clenched and he balled his hands into fists. What a useless habit he’d picked up. He wondered if it had something to do with the charm, if it had made his skin itch just enough to draw his attention there. He hoped he’d grow out it with time.

Hermione made her purchases and they left the store. They opened the door directly onto the last people Harry had wanted to see today. 

Ginny and Neville.

Neville had has arm over her shoulders. Harry watched his fingers tighten and curl into the fabric of Ginny’s coat.

“Hey,” Ron said over Harry’s head. “Didn’t take you two long, eh?”

“Ronald, stop.” Hermione warned.

Harry walked away, in the opposite direction, towards the center of town and the fountain. 

“Potter,” Neville called out and Harry stopped. “I want to talk to you.”

Over his shoulder, Harry answered, “Well, I don’t want to talk to you. So…” 

Harry only made it two steps before Neville grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. 

Harry pushed him. “Don’t fucking touch me, Longbottom.”

Neville held up his palms. “You can’t just walk away. Ginny’s been balling her eyes out for weeks about you and you won’t even look at her.”

“Are you serious?” Harry’s brow lifted into his hairline. “You slept with my girlfriend—”

“She wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And you want to lecture me about how I ended things with her.”

“I want you to treat her like a person and not some prize you claimed and discarded.”

“Is that what you think?” Harry looked passed Neville to Ginny. “Is that what you told him?”

“Harry…”

“No,” Harry lifted his hands, palms out, “Actually, I don’t care what she told you. You can have her, mate.” Harry took a step backward, away from this conversation. Ron and Hermione circled Ginny and Neville and made to follow Harry. Harry threw his hands up higher. “I am done with all of this and both of you.”

“Harry Potter.” Neville advanced. “All big and bad, defeating dark lords and throwing around his magic. But can’t properly take care of his girlfriend’s needs.”

“Maybe you should be concerned about the girl that needs two men to take care of those needs.”

Neville’s face flared red and his lips pinched into a tight line. Harry couldn’t quite believe he’d said something so dumb. That he was defending his masculinity, his sexual ability, on a very public street, to Neville fucking Longbottom. But adrenaline and anger and frustration seemed to have overridden all of their senses because Neville answered with the required cliche with a completely straight face.

“She never had issues when I was all she had last year.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t want to fight you on this one. I don’t want her. She’s yours.”

Ginny choked out a sob and Harry glanced at her and then at Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked between them all with a frown on her face, her eyes pulled at the corners with pity. Ron held his body stiff, his face glaring at the ground at his feet. 

Harry pulled himself up straight and tall, ready to put an end to it. He leaned forward. “Look, Neville—”

“You’re useless, Potter. You’ve served your purpose. Now you’re nothing but—”

 Harry launched himself forward, hands grabbing Neville’s collar and tossing him into the nearest hard object. A brick wall. He pulled back a fist and punched Neville in the jaw. Neville took the hit, stumbling to the side, but he righted himself and came at Harry. 

Harry had plenty of experience fighting, though it had been awhile since he tussled with Dudley and Piers Polkiss. Muscle memory had a long shelf life and Harry ducked Neville’s first swing and caught his second in a fleshy part of his back. 

Harry went for the face again, but Neville swept his feet and Harry felt himself going down. He grabbed Neville and took his much larger body with him to the ground.

They rolled around, grabbing and scratching and punching. Neville had a good deal of height and weight on him, but Harry was scrappy and managed to pin him. Harry pulled his arm back and punched, once, twice.

Arms wrapped around Harry’s waist and Harry raked his nails across them as he was bodily lifted into the air and off Neville, his arms flailing and his legs kicking. 

“Put me the fuck down!” He swung his head back, hoping to connect with whoever had a firm grip around his middle, but missed. He settled for shouting, “You’re a fucking prick, Longbottom,” as he was carried away. Neville laid on the ground, propped up on one elbow, blood dripping from a split lip, eye swollen from a good right hook, and glared after Harry. 

Right against his ear, over and over, Harry heard, “Potter, Potter.” 

Harry jerked against it.

“Calm yourself.”

Snape. Snape had his arms wrapped around Harry. Harry stopped fighting against him. He went slack as Snape dragged him into alley and dropped him. 

Harry set off pacing the length of it. “Snape, that arsehole thinks I can’t fight. Me.”

Snape waved his wand and the ends of the alley shimmered under uncrossable privacy wards. 

Harry pointed a finger in the direction he’d just been hauled from. “Did you hear the nonsense that he was saying? That I treated Ginny like she wasn’t a person. Like it was me that treated her like an object, a prize. I was not the one in the wrong. I wasn’t. He is absolutely delusional. Absolutely. Entirely.” 

Harry looked up and stilled. Snape leant against the brick wall of whatever shop they’d been near. Long-limbed and solid. His hair a riot (probably from bodily dragging a writhing Harry). Panting slightly, his chest raising and falling. And he was smirking. 

Harry wanted to bite that smirk. He wanted to kiss it right off his face. Shove him against the wall and rub against him until Snape was panting and begging against Harry’s mouth. He wanted to ball his hands into all of that fabric Snape wrapped himself in and pull and tug it until he found blood-warmed flesh.

Harry stepped towards Snape. 

The smirk disappeared and Snape straightened and crossed his arms, his eyes darting across Harry’s face. 

What was Harry doing? What was Harry thinking?

Snape waved his hands and the wards disappeared.

Harry panted, white breaths clouding the air between them, and stared at Snape, mouth agape.

“Well,” a male voice said. Harry and Snape’s heads snapped to it. “Hello, boys.”

“Anders.” Snape’s raised his wand. “Long time no see.”

Harry let his drop into his hand and went to stand next to Snape.

Anders smiled and took a step forward into the alley way. He entered from the backside of the shops, from the woods. Harry could hear the murmur and rustle of people on the street behind him. 

“I had a feeling I’d find you two together.”

Snape huffed, quietly, beside him. Almost more of a gasp then anything else.

Anders raised his wand and then stilled. His eyes moved to look past Harry and Snape.

Ron stepped up beside Harry. And then Hermione was there. And Neville and Ginny. 

Anders shoulders shrugged up and down. He grinned at Harry and then at Snape, he bowed, and then he spun away in a blur of Apparation. 

Chapter Text

The Hogsmeade trip had been promptly cut short. 

Snape, quickly joined by McGonagall and Flitwick, rounded up every last student and sent them on their way, moaning and groaning, back to Hogwarts. The town went on lockdown and high alert. Aurors arrived to patrol the streets and search the surrounding woods for Callum Anders.

Ron and Neville returned home without much fanfare. Harry tromped back up to the school, Hermione on his right and Ginny on his left, with the rest of the students.

Once they reached the common room, Ginny grabbed for his arm. She pleaded, “Can we talk, Harry, please?”

Harry shook his head at her wide, red-rimmed eyes and pulled away. 

Hermione had a look in her eyes, in the set of her mouth, that told Harry she wanted like to talk through everything that went down in town. To dissect all the things he’d said and done. Harry ignored her and climbed the stairs to his dorm room, to the dark and quiet of his closed off four-poster.

How long had he wanted to touch Snape?

How long had he wanted to touch a man?

A flash of pale, lithe limbs. Flat chest with tightly pebbled nipples. Dark hair trailing down between gathered muscles. His hand wrapped around a hard cock.

Harry’s breath quickened, his heart rattled against his sternum. He was sweating and trembling. He groaned and gathered himself against his headboard.

It was the heat of the moment. His adrenaline pumping through his veins from fighting with Neville. His anger. His frustration. It all combined and twisted and became something else when he looked at Snape. Snape, a man he respected and liked. His friend. 

He’d never lusted after a man before. He never wanted to touch one, to press his mouth to theirs. To be naked with one. To see one naked.

Now that the thought had presented itself…it was not unappealing. But, Merlin, Harry didn't know which emotion to feel first, which one he should let win the conflict inside of him. It all left him light-headed and dizzy. 

Harry toed off his shoes and let them drop to the floor. He pulled his robes off. His jumper, his jeans. He crawled under his covers in his vest, pants, and his socks with a hole in the heel. He yanked his glasses off and threw them off to the side of his pillow.

He laid flat on his back and looked up into the inky darkness above.

He called Ginny to mind. Red hair and soft curves. The smell of oranges and vanilla. He thought of her naked. He thought of the times they’d had sex—quick, empty encounters. Nothing about it did anything for him. Tainted and ruined as that relationship now was.

Cho Chang. Delicate hands with long, tapered fingers. Straight, dark hair. Damp and awkward. Everything laced with grief and disappointment.

No. 

Harry searched his mind, but no other girls came to him. Was that really it? Fantasizing had never been high on his priority list. He’d credited it to the distraction that was the chaos surrounding his life. Thought maybe it’d sprung from his loyalty to Gin. But this was more dire than he’d imagined.

Harry laid very still. He let his hands rest on the bed next to his thighs. Harry reached into his mind for something different. He touched it hesitantly, like a tongue probing a toothache. 

Severus Snape. 

Harry closed his eyes.

That time he’d floo-ed down to Snape’s quarters from McGonagall’s office, over the summer, when he’d found Snape asleep in his bed. One arm stretched over his head, his hair tumbled and spread beneath him. His legs twisted in his sheets. Sleep warm and pliable.

Harry’s fingers curled into his bedsheets. 

Harry changed the memory. Snape was awake. He had nothing on beneath his soft, blue sheets. With lowered lids, he watched Harry approach the bed. Harry’s hand hovered over the pale skin of his chest, stomach. Snape squirmed and shivered, back bowing up and pushing towards Harry’s fingers. That deep, raspy voice would moan and keen so beautifully. 

Harry groaned. Heat gathered between his legs and spread outward. His cock twitched and hardened against his thigh. Harry moved his hands to his belly.

Snape would have wanted him there. He would have reached for Harry. His hands, so much larger than Harry’s, they would wrap around Harry’s wrists, his hips, so completely, so fully, so strongly. He’d pull Harry to him, have him straddle his hips, their cocks aligning. 

What would Snape’s cock look like? Long and pink, the head sheathed in a feather-soft foreskin? Thick and red and leaking come, veins boldly pumping heat into its length?

Harry took himself in hand. He was so hard. He’d never gotten this hard so fast. 

Would Snape let Harry taste it? He would love it. Harry knew, Harry knew, Harry knew, Snape would love Harry between his thighs, Harry looking up at him through dark lashes, Harry’s tongue tracing its way up his cock, circling the head, tasting the drops of precome beading at the slit.

Harry arched off the bed, his cock like granite in his hand, his come warm and slick where it hit his hip, his belly. A noise broke free from his throat, something between and grunt and a sob. He flopped back onto his sheets, chest rising and falling, his eyes stinging. He put his hands to his face, sticky with come, and he shook and shook and shook.

**********

McGonagall ordered an emergency Order meeting, in light of what happened in Hogsmeade. Also in light of what happened in Hogsmeade, they did not hold the meeting at their new location above the Three Broomsticks. They were in the Headmaster’s office, or Headmistress’ (Harry would never get used to that), and, given the last minute nature of the meeting, their numbers were halved. 

And, given that they were all squished in here like sardines in a tin, that suited Harry just fine.

McGonagall explained to everyone there what had happened. She started with the encounter over the summer, moved onto Harry’s experience on Halloween, and finished up with the confrontation today. 

It happened only hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

Harry glanced at Snape across the room. Quickly. He didn’t allow his eyes to linger, afraid he’d give something away. That Snape would somehow sense what he’d done upstairs in his bed. He’d showered, twice, in the hottest water the boy’s dormitory bath offered. He’d taken himself in hand both times (Snape on his knees, Snape holding him, taking him). He’d taken a third shower, a cold one.

Snape turned his head. Their eyes met fleetingly, for barely the length of a breath. Harry looked away, letting his eyes sweep the whole crowded room. 

They landed on Bill Weasley. Bill had always been handsome, in a rugged, sexy kind of way. Harry had never thought of thinking of Bill when he—

His cock twitched at the very idea.

Harry averted his eyes and squeezed them shut.

Did other people do this? Did they think of their friends when they wanked?

Harry had never thought of Hermione. Not once. Or Ron.

Could he think of Ron…no. Nothing.

“Potter.”

“I didn’t—” Harry shouted. He opened his eyes and took in the whole room watching him with various levels of concern. Harry cleared his throat. “I wasn’t— sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Obviously,” McGonagall pursed her mouth. “Do you want to explain what happened this afternoon to everyone?”

Harry’s mouth popped open. “N-nothing happened this afternoon.”

There were murmurs. Of course. Because she was not asking about…she meant Anders.

“I’m sorry. I mean, yes, of course, Anders. I can explain that. More fully.” Harry’s eyes met Snape’s narrowed ones. Harry’s face went hot and twitchy. He flattened his fringe and did just what McGonagall asked. Except, he left out the bit about he and Neville fighting in the street like Muggles. 

He finished and sighed, a gusty breath that ruffled Luna’s hair in front of him. She turned and smiled at him; she took his hand and squeezed it. Harry squeezed back and then let go. He relaxed as everyone’s attention shifted back to the front of the room.

Snape’s attention had turned back to McGonagall and the front of the room, allowing Harry to get a good view of the sharp jut of his profile. His high cheekbones and the overlong slope of his nose. His strong chin and jawline. The soft peak of a pale ear sticking through the dark strands of his hair. The scarred column of his throat. The broad spread of his shoulders.

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He could hold Snape and both his hands wouldn’t be able to span those shoulders. Snape’s hands could span Harry’s though. He could engulf Harry in his arms. Harry bit down on his lip.

It didn’t really matter what he called himself: straight, gay, bisexual. He wanted Snape.

Snape. 

Severus. 

In bed, naked and pressed against him, he wouldn’t call him Snape. He’d be Severus. 

Sev-er-us. Even the name appealed to Harry. It would flow off his tongue like treacle. 

He’d said it once before, when Snape was drunk and he needed him to stop talking about Lily.

Snape had said Harry’s name then too. 

Harry could imagine it gasping out of Snape when he was overcome. Open and vulnerable and wanton. Head back, mouth open, body arching. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispered. He closed his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest. His breathing ragged. His pulse skyrocketing. He counted one, two, three, four…all the way to ten, calming himself.

“You okay, Harry?” Hermione. Right against his ear.

“Yes. Give me a minute.” And please go away, thanks.

“We are forming a team.” 

Robards was speaking now. Harry would focus on that. He looked up. Very much avoiding glancing in Snape’s direction.

“A team of Aurors will work closely with select members of the Order. They will aim to find Callum Anders and any Death Eaters he may be hiding out with.” Robards narrowed in on Harry and then shifted back to the crowd at large. “At this time, we do not believe he is associated with the Death Eaters suspected of burglaries and arson around the country, but neither are we discounting the idea.”

Robards stopped talking. McGonagall looked at him, as if waiting. When he didn’t continue, she stood up. “That is all we have. Remain vigilant. The war may be over, but the fight continues.”

People stood, chatting and shuffling towards the door.

“Harry Potter,” Robards called out. “Remain behind.”

Harry’s shoulders sank and he just barely stopped his eyes from rolling. Ron shot him a half-smile as he took Hermione’s hand and they continued towards the door. 

Luna reached for his hand again. “Harry, I’m sorry about you and Ginny.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“She wasn’t right for you. I always wanted to say, but didn’t think I should.”

“You can always tell me things.” He released her hand. “We’re friends. Remember?”

She smiled and turned her head as Snape approached. He stepped up to them slowly, his gaze shifting between them. His hands were locked together behind his back, making him look taller, straighter. Luna had to lift her head to look up at his face, but Harry’d grown a bit over the last year or so and was only half a head shorter. His lips would line up perfectly with that sharp jawline of Snape’s.

“Hello, Professor,” Luna greeted.

“Miss Lovegood.”

Luna’s smile widened. “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

“Bye, Luna, and thank you.”

She nodded. “Goodbye, Professor Snape.”

Snape watched her retreat and queue up behind the rest of the departing Order.

“Snape.”

He turned back to Harry. “Potter.”

Harry had no idea what to say. He could barely meet the man’s gaze.

Snape waited a beat and then held a jar out to him. 

Harry took it, clutched it tightly, and lifted a brow in question.

His eyes went to Harry’s cheekbone. His jawline. He said, “Bruise paste.”

“Oh,” Harry looked down at the blue jar. “Thank you. I’d not even—thank you.”

“Can’t have our hero going around battered like a muggle boxer. People will talk.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah. Right.” He peered up through his lashes. Snape stared at him, his eyes dark and searching. Harry averted his gaze. “And thank you for stopping me, back there in Hogsmeade. I was angry and not thinking.”

Snape’s eyelids fluttered, blinking, again and again. He opened his mouth, pulled in a breath, and leaned forward.

“Snape,” Robards interrupted. 

Snape snapped upright and Harry jumped. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning forward, hanging on Snape’s every reaction. 

“I didn’t ask you to stay behind,” Robards continued. “Only Potter.”

Snape ran his thumb down his jawline and nodded. He gave Harry one last, very long, look and left. Harry watched his departure, his stride, the sway of his hips, the breadth of his shoulders. Harry blew out a breath and turned around, only to come face-to-face with the lowered brows and pinched lips of McGonagall and Kingsley as well as Robards.

Harry raised his hands, palms out. “I know I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

Kingsley sighed and his expression loosened a touch. “Why did you wait so long to tell anyone?”

Harry opened his mouth to remind them about telling Snape, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to throw him under the bus. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and said, “It was the summer. It was a weird time. For me.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly,” Robards said, cocking his head and nodding.

“Yeah.” Harry licked his lips. “I’d worked alone, mostly, for so long, and going to other people, it just isn’t my first instinct.”

McGonagall’s face creased, now with pity. Robards scrubbed at his chin with a finger.

Kingsley reached forward and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, you are not alone. We are all here for you.”

“I know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I truly just wasn’t thinking.” He darted a quick scowl at Robards.

“Well,” Robards said. “You can make up for your mistake. You are the Order member that will be working closely with my Aurors to find Anders.”

Harry’s mouth popped open. “Just me? I thought you said a group of Order members.”

“Just you. But you’re Harry Potter, the Man Who Lived Twice. Worth ten normal wizards.”

Harry’s responded sharply, “I’ve never said anything like that.”

“Of course you haven’t,” McGonagall said. She looked at Robards. “Honestly, Gawain.”

Robards shrugged and waved her off. “I was just repeating nonsense from the papers.”

“Yes, nonsense.” Harry couldn’t believe the audacity of this man.

“There is no slinking from this duty.”

A breath huffed out of Harry. “I never—”

“As Head of the Order of the Phoenix, McGonagall mandates your involvement,” Robards barreled on. “And as the Head of Ministry Law Enforcement, I am ordering you to comply.”

 Harry’s nostrils flared. His hands shook with anger. He balled them into tight fists. He glanced from face to face to face. 

Kingsley watched Harry, then eyed Robards. “Let’s not start this out on a negative note. This is a good thing. Your aid in this matter is greatly appreciated, Harry. We would like to close this chapter of our history.”

Harry sighed. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that they all had the same goal, that they were on the same team. Already knowing that he would do this. That he would join Robards’ Aurors and chase after Death Eaters. Harry would plot and plan, pursue and fight, protect and defend. He opened his eyes.

“And we think your help, your presence, will motivate others and expedite the endeavor.” Kingsley finished with a smile.

Harry nodded. “Yes, fine. Of course. If you need me.”

**********

Harry folded his glasses and placed them on the sink, near the faucet. He bent closer to the mirror and jutted out his chin, turning his face this way and that. Neville had gotten a good hit in against Harry’s jaw. The purple-blue mark ran the length of his jaw, just left of his chin, and spread downward, swelling and coloring the flesh towards his throat. 

Harry uncorked the jar of bruise paste from Snape. He scooped up a dollop with two fingers and brought them to the bruise. He winced as he pressed it into his skin, but the relief was immediate. The ache dulled and the skin beneath the greasy paste faded first to a yellow-green, then a fleshy pink, and finally back to his usual skin color. 

Snape was such a brilliant Potioneer. Harry’d never had a bruise paste work so quickly. He ran a finger along the newly healthy skin. Snape should start his own potions business. He could work in his own lab and make whatever his heart desired. Everyone would want his potions. Maybe he could setup shop in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Harry could be an investor. Harry would do whatever Snape needed him to. He’d sweep the floors and scrub cauldrons for the rest of his days if it would help Snape live the life he deserved.

The bruise on his right cheek was smaller, the size of a galleon,  and under the far corner of his eye. There was a small cut in the center of it. Harry’d missed it earlier; his glasses must have hidden it. “Episkey.” The bruise lightened and the cut disappeared. Harry rubbed the bruise paste into this one. It faded before Harry’s eyes. 

He looked at his reflection. Back to normal. Same plain, boring Harry Potter. 

Harry sighed and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. He was pale and scrawny, with dark, patchy hair. What on earth did Ginny see in him? What would anyone? Harry lifted his arm and assessed the bruise on his side. Snape hadn’t know about this one, but he’d made Harry enough paste that he may as well take care of this one as well.

Snape was a bit scrawny too, under all those robes, but in a lean, solid way. Harry remembered those arms wrapping around him and lifting him into the air. Stirring potions and lugging around cauldrons had kept him fit enough. Fighting for his life against the world probably didn’t hurt either.

The bruise ran from his bottom rib to just above his hip bone. Neville had kneed him pretty good when they’d tussled on the ground. Harry smeared the paste across the top of it and worked his way down. 

Maybe next time he could get Snape to apply the paste himself. 

Harry shivered and heat coiled low in his gut. He lightened his touch and closed his eyes. He imagined a different hand touching him, running down his body, lower and lower. A fingertip dipping into the waistband of his trousers and caressing the skin. 

Maybe Snape would be more forceful. He’d be rough with Harry Potter. He’d shove his hand in and knead Harry’s flesh. He’d bend Harry over the sink and yank his pants down to his thighs. 

“Fuck.” Harry opened his eyes. They were wide and dark in the mirror. His chest rising and falling with each panted exhale of his breath. 

Harry finished rubbing in the paste and pulled his shirt back on. 

“Christ.”

What was he going to do? How could this have happened?

What would Snape think if he knew? What would he do?

Harry grabbed his glasses and put them back on. 

Could Snape ever, ever, be interested in him?

How would he find something like that out? He couldn’t ask him. That was absolutely out of the question. He didn’t even know if Snape liked men. How did you find out if another man liked men? Could he ask that? 

Maybe if he framed it just right. 

Harry wasn’t very good at subtlety. 

Maybe he should just let it go. Maybe it was a phase, a strange twist of hormone and circumstance. Something to do with the disastrous end to his relationship with Ginny. Maybe this attraction would go away if he gave it time. 

Harry placed one hand on each side of the sink and bent forward, staring hard at himself. 

He was overthinking this. Definitely overthinking it. 

He would just be normal. He would continue on like he hadn’t started wanking furiously and frequently to thoughts of his friend touching his skin, sucking his cock, fucking him over any available hard surface. 

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the mirror with a groan.

Chapter Text

On Thursday afternoon, Harry used McGonagall’s fireplace to floo to the Ministry for his first meeting with Robard’s Auror team. He hoped the whole thing would wrap up before Quidditch practice that evening. He much preferred spending two hours with a mopey Ginny than a single minute with bloody Robard’s. Plus, with Gin, he could take off on his broom and do a few laps when she got too much. Harry had a feeling Robards would chase after him if he tried that here.

It took Harry longer than he expected to find the meeting room on the second level, and so he was the last person to walk in. Dozens of faces turned to watch him find a seat in the back, as far away from where Robards stood speaking at the front of the room as he could get. 

“Nice of you to join us, Potter,” Robards said to scattered laughter. 

One side of Harry’s lips twitched up into a disingenuous smile. Two rows up, Ron turned and met Harry’s eyes and gave a quick nod. Harry raised a hand to wave, his smile growing more genuine. He glanced around the room, but Harry didn’t recognize anyone else. Everyone seemed so much older, and bigger, than Harry. Even Ron. Harry’d always been scrawny and a bit short, but he’d never felt as out of place like he did just then. 

He cleared his throat, quietly, and hunkered down in his chair.

There was a map of England on the wall with little pins stuck all over it, just like Harry’d seen in Muggle police shows and such. Robards listed off names and places. He went through a rolodex of crimes and allegations. Nothing sounded familiar to Harry and he had no hope of remembering the sudden bombardment of new information. People around him jotted down notes. Was he  supposed to have brought quill and parchment?

Harry crossed his arms and uncrossed them. He twisted the skin on his ring finger, again. Then curled his hands into fists against his jeans. Why couldn’t he break this habit? Maybe Ginny’s charm had left some kind of residue on his finger. 

Maybe he should have Snape check for him. 

Snape would need to take his hand. He would need to touch it, caress it. 

Harry closed his eyes, imagining those graceful fingers dancing over his bare skin. Down his finger, around over the palm of his hand, cradling his wrist, his pulse would beat against the pads of Snape’s fingertips. Harry shifted in his seat and opened his eyes.

He’d find Snape later. This idea had some potential. He could test the water, dip in a toe and see how Snape responded to Harry’s request for contact.  A wholly legitimate request, made out of genuine concern for his own wellbeing. 

How was that for subtle? Harry smirked, uncurling his hands. 

“Team B will scout this location.” Robards pointed to a cluster of pin in south Devon. “Team C, here.” Close to Manchester. 

Harry glanced around, wondering what team he was on. He hoped he was with Ron. He also wondered where Team A was scouting, since he’d obviously missed that while thinking about Snape’s fingers on his skin.

“Miller, you’ll lead B,” Robards continued, nodding at a blonde woman in the front row. “Team C’ll be Covern. And I’ll take A.” 

Robards looked right at Harry as he said the last bit, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly which team he’d been assigned to. 

Robards waved his hand at a blackboard off to the left and three rows of names appeared. And, right there, directly under a large, underlined letter ‘A’, Harry’s name was scrawled in white chalk. 

“Gather with your lead now.”

Harry pressed his lips together and stood, reluctantly.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron greeted. “Same team.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry said as they walked towards Robards at the front of the room. “What are you doing here anyway? What happened to training?”

“I’m still working through it, but Robards thought this would be good for me. I’ll get some practical experience. And I can contribute to the team some, you know, with a little insider-type knowledge.”

Harry scoffed. “Insider knowledge…what does that even mean?”

Ron’s brow creased. “I fought Death Eaters off at the Ministry in fifth year. And the whole of last year, with you and Hermione.” Ron ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck. “I didn’t off You-Know-Who or anything, I guess, but I’ve done plenty.”

“Right. Yes. Of course you have.” Harry shook his head. “Sorry, mate. I don’t know what I was even saying.”

Ron’s face cleared and he said, “It’s alright.” 

Robards was in conference with his two leads. The rest of the Aurors had grouped themselves off and were chatting. Harry crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and stuck his hands in his pockets. 

“How’s training going anyhow?”

Ron rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms. “It’s good. Tough. I’m exhausted all the time. And starving by the end of the day. I like it though.”

Harry nodded.

“You’ll see soon enough. In just a few months, it’ll be your turn. July, August, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ron’s eyes darted over Harry’s face, his lips tightened into a frown. “How are things with you? Is Gin being alright?”

“I avoid her as much as I can. That seems to be working out.”

Ron chuckled. “That’s what I did when me and Lavender…well.”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda feel bad now that she’s, you know, “ Ron looked down at his feet, “dead and all.”

“I’m sure she’d moved on from that by then.”

Ron shrugged and looked away. “You’re still coming for Christmas though, right?”

“No,” Harry scoffed. “No way.”

Ron grabbed Harry’s shoulders, eyes wide. “You gotta come to the Burrow.”

“I can’t even imagine how that would not end up being uncomfortable as hell, mate.”

“We’d figure it out,” Ron implored. “You’d be with me up in my room most of the time, and Christmas morning everyone would be there. Mum’ll cook up a storm, like always. And there’ll be presents.”

“And your sister. And Gin always snuck into your room in the middle of the night to climb into bed with me.”

“Gross.” Ron wrinkled his nose. “She wouldn’t dare, and I wouldn’t let her.”

“No, I really don’t think so. Sorry.”

Ron clicked his tongue and dropped his hands. “What’ll you do instead? Grimmauld, all alone?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll probably stay at Hogwarts, like usual.”

“You shouldn’t have to do the usual. War’s over.”

Robards clapped his hands and it echoed around the room, like he’d amplified it with a charm. Harry rolled his eyes and turned towards his future boss, readying himself for the rest of the afternoon.

Staying at Hogwarts for Christmas had one advantage. A pretty big one actually. As Robards droned on and on, Harry imagined a different sort of Christmas. One with Snape all to himself. 

**********

“Did you know Ron was on Robards’ Auror team to catch Anders?”

Hermione added a scoop of peas to her plate. “I did.”

“Oh. He never mentioned it to me.”

“When would he have?” Hermione gave a half-smile and speared a piece of ham. “You boys are terrible about writing to each other.”

Harry drummed his fingers on the table. “I guess.”

“It’ll be good for you to have someone there that you know.” She glanced at Harry. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I grabbed a curry while I was in London, after the meeting.”

“Harry,” Hermione admonished. “You should not have gone out into London like that. What if Anders was there, waiting for you?”

“Why would he be looking for me in central London on a school night?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Well, you never know.”

“I can’t hide away my entire life, Hermione. There will always be someone angry with me.” Harry shrugged. “Besides, the sooner he is caught and put away, the sooner this whole business with Robards is done.”

“And you’re alright being the bait, are you?”

Harry grimaced.

She continued, “You do realize that Robards is going to be your boss soon?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know, but this assignment is ridiculous, so… and he’s only doing it to piss me off.”

“Doing what exactly? He is letting you, an untrained—”

“Untrained?” 

 “—NEWTS student, take part in an important post-War Auror mission.”

“I’m hardly untrained.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d been skipping off to Auror training in your free time.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Hermione’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “I’d forgotten. You are the Harry Potter.”

“Stop.” Harry scoffed and brought his elbows up to the table. He laced his fingers together and placed his chin on top of them. He glanced up at the head table. No Snape. He’d have to venture downstairs tonight. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Just that, you know, I am not without my own merits.”

Hermione’s face softened. “I know, Harry.”

Harry waved her off.

Luna entered the Great Hall, hand in hand with that dark-haired Ravenclaw girl.

Harry bent forward over the table, keeping his voice low. “Is Luna dating that girl?”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. “Rani? Yes.”

“Hm.”

Hermione, fork stilled over her plate and hovering, stared at Harry. 

“What?” Harry asked, thrown by the intensity of her focus. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione shook herself and picked up her knife. “Nothing. Nothing, of course.” She cut her ham into little bite-sized pieces. “And you’re fine with them?”

“Yeees,” Harry drew the word out. He narrowed his eyes.

Hermione’s voice went all breathy. “I don’t know. Sometimes Muggles have ideas about gay couples. There’s a lot of prejudice. And you and I, we grew up with Muggles. So, I just don’t know how you feel about all that.”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s absolutely fine, of course. And you know that.” Hermione reached a hand out across the surface of the table. “You know that it’s fine?”

“Jesus, Hermione.” Harry bit his bottom lip and tucked his chin. “Is there anything you don’t know before me?”

Hermione flushed a brilliant red. “Loads of things. Probably.”

Harry touched her hand, where it rested on the wooden tabletop. “I know it’s fine.”

“Good.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it.” Harry pulled his hand back. He could not even begin to put it into words. And where would he start? With his attraction to blokes? His attraction to Snape? He was a mess over it, but he needed to sort it all out a bit more before he begged advice from Hermione. “Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s…I understand. Whenever you are ready, Harry.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m always here for you.”

Harry smiled. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” Hermione smiled, still bright red. “And I love you too, of course.”

**********

“Hello, Snape.”

Snape didn’t even bother to look up as Harry shut the door behind him. 

“Other students may actually wish to utilize my office hours, you know.”

“Do you have many brave souls come knocking?”

“Occasionally.” Snape sighed and set aside his quill. “What can I do for you tonight, Potter?”

“I have a question.”

Snape’s mouth pulled to one side and he lifted a single brow. “Really?”

“I do.” 

Harry rounded the desk. Snape’s shoulders tightened beneath his robes with each step Harry took. Snape looked up at him, eyes hard and fierce. Harry licked his lips. He curled and uncurled his fingers before holding out his hand.

“So,” Harry began. “It’s my finger. The one I used to wear Ginny’s ring on.”

Snape brow contracted and he looked down at Harry’s hand. He turned in his chair and a shiver ran through Harry’s fingers. Snape reached out, hesitated, and then reached out again, slowly, grasping each side of Harry’s hand in one of his.

Harry swallowed. He drew in a shaky breath and continued. “It tingles, or itches, all the time. Could the tracking charm have, I don’t know, moved from the ring onto my skin?”

Snape hummed. “That seems unlikely. It would need to be powerful magic to penetrate flesh. However, if the magic was unstable, it would not have been imbued properly by the target object.”

“Like it could have leaked.”

Snape nodded. He shifted Harry’s hand this way and that. He tugged it, bringing it closer to his face. Harry could feel Snape’s breath on his skin, hot and humid. Snape tugged again and Harry stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the desk. He settled down on his arse and scooted closer and closer, until his leg pressed against Snape’s knee. The weave of his jeans rasped against the wool of Snape’s trousers.

Snape let go of one side of Harry’s hand and ran a finger down Harry’s middle finger. His fingertip smooth and soft, though Harry thought he felt the slight indentation of a scar or callus. 

Snape pulled back. “I don’t feel anything, save your own magic.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You can feel my magic?”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes shifted, left and right. “What’s it feel like?”

Snape lifted one shoulder in a shrugging motion and said, “Golden.”

Harry snorted.

Snape pulled his wand from his where it was tucked into his sleeve. “May I?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Snape pressed the tip of it to Harry’s knuckles and drew it downward to the end of his finger. The wood was warm against his skin. 

“What’s your wand made from?”

Snape’s eyes flicked up and back down. “Ebony and unicorn hair.”

Harry nodded. “Holly and phoenix feather. Can you feel everyone’s magic like that?”

“No.”

“What does ‘golden’ feel like?”

Snape scowled up at him. “I don’t detect anything, nefarious or otherwise.”

“Oh. That’s good then.”

“I don’t suppose you still have the ring.”

“No. I sort of threw it at Ginny.”

Snape leaned back in his chair, scratching at his eyebrow. “You threw it at her?”

Harry nodded.

“Very dramatic, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “I was angry. It might still be in the Entrance Hall. Would having it help?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Snape said. “Though I don’t recommend carrying it around with you.”

Harry met Snape’s eyes. They’d seemed so dark and cold when he was a child. They were still dark, but really they radiated a certain keenness, alert and alive. Steady and unflinching. Harry swallowed and looked down at his hands in his lap. He flexed the finger in question.

“So, it’s all in my head?”

“Possibly.”

Harry scoffed. “Lovely.”

Snape shifted in his chair, his shoulders slouching so he could rest one elbow on an arm of it and place his chin in his hand. He crossed his legs, pulling away from where Harry had still been pressed up against him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Snape said.

“Yeah, ta.”

Snape smirked and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. He licked his lips and pinched them shut to keep it inside where it belonged.

Snape asked, “How did your meeting with the Aurors go?”

“Ugh.” Harry crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose. “So dull. We will be systematically combing Anglesey for hideouts.”

“Anglesey?” Snape reared back. He shook his head, his hair brushing his shoulders. “Why on earth…?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.”’

Snape raised his palms and gave a grunting of annoyance. “Why not?”

Harry shook his head.

“Honestly, Potter. Do you want to be an Auror?”

“Of course, I do.” Harry stood up and walked away. 

“Because you really seem as though you can’t be arsed.”

“I do, okay. Drop it.”

“No one is forcing you to be an Auror.”

“Aren’t they?” Harry circled the desk and sat down in a chair in front of it. He waved a hand. “I’m so tired of that question anyway.”

“Maybe you should ponder why you keep being asked.”

“Maybe another time, thanks.” Harry huffed and crossed his arms. “Are you excited for the Christmas hols?”

“You are bloody ridiculous, Potter.”

Harry scrubbed his hands up and down his face. “I’m staying here for Christmas. How about you?”

Snape threw himself against the back of his chair and matched Harry’s crossed arms. “You said I could ask you anything and you’d gladly discuss it.”

Harry sneered. “Don’t give me that.”

“We’re friends, are we not?”

Harry’s arms loosened and his hands fell to his lap. His throat gone tight and dry, he answered with a strangled, “Of course.”

Snape’s Adam’s apple jumped. “Then, answer the question.”

“I have. I want to be an Auror, Snape. I swear it.”

“Harry…”

“Severus.”

Snape’s eyes darted back and forth between Harry’s. Harry stayed perfectly still, letting him see what he needed to. 

Snape huffed a breath out of nose and averted his eyes. “Fine. Yes, I am staying here for the holidays as well.”

“Fantastic. We can spend them together.”

Snape laughed, an actual bark of amusement. “That’ll be a cheery time.”

 Harry smiled and said, “It could be.”

“You must be desperate if you’re making plans with me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I like you, Snape. Friends, remember? We covered that about five seconds ago.”

Snape gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m simply your backup plan.”

“You’re not.”

Snape cocked his head to the side.

“Well, maybe, but I would have wanted to spend it with you regardless. I would have invited you to the Weasleys, if I thought you’d come.”

“Perhaps, I would have obliged,” Snape shrugged. “Now we’ll never know.”

“How convenient.” Harry grinned.

Snape’s nostrils twitched, like he’d just suppressed a return smile.

**********

Harry was in his favorite thinking spot: his bed.

He felt lighter, his skin on fire and his blood thrumming through his veins.

Like he’d raced his broom through the clouds, high above everything, the wind in his hair and the tingle of oxygen deprivation in his lungs. 

Talking to Snape was an adrenaline rush. Being near him, hearing his voice, watching him move. Harry needed it. He’d needed it all summer, and through the fall. He known about the need at the time, but he didn’t know. He just felt the want to be with him, always, and given in to it. 

Now that he saw it for what it was, it was all so heightened. 

The need and want spiking and surging and roiling through him. 

This was more than some dumb crush. More than hormones and lust.

Harry felt it in his core, in his bones, laced with his veins and woven into his blood.

Harry replayed every moment of tonight, over and over, looking at it up and down, backwards and forwards. He and Snape. 

Harry and Severus. 

A shiver ran down his spine at the potential in those three simple words.

The power of it all. The magnitude.

The vital importance of getting this right overwhelmed him, engulfed him. Forced the breath from his lungs and the steadiness of the ground beneath him. He clutched at the bedsheets and closed his eyes and pined.

**********

The Great Hall was empty, only a dozen or so students had stuck around. Harry was the lone Gryffindor, the table a gaping empty void around him. He smeared jam on his toast and looked up at the head table. Snape had his head bent close to McGonagall’s as she chatted away. Harry took a bite and watched them. 

Well, he watched Snape. 

Snape had one hand wrapped around a mug. Harry imagined the warmth infusing his palm and heating up the tips of his fingers. They’d be dry and soft as they skipped over Harry’s chest, his belly. 

Snape’s tongue, pink and wet, kept peeking out the corner of his mouth, worrying over his lip. He could apply that right alongside his dancing fingers. 

Harry sighed and looked down at his plate. Eggs and a couple of sad looking slices of orange. Harry took another bite of his jam-slathered toast, his own tongue swiping over his lips, at the sweetness left behind. 

Harry looked up again and caught Snape watching him out of the corner of his eye. Snape averted them back to McGonagall and Harry pressed away a smile. 

Harry lingered at his deserted table until Snape stood. He thought he’d need to rush to catch him as he stalked from the room, but Snape slowed and waited for him. Harry smiled at him, quick and small. Snape glanced back up at the Head Table and Harry followed his line of sight. McGonagall and Pomfrey were both eyeing them. 

“A walk, Potter?”

“Sounds lovely.”

As they descended the front steps, Snape patted his pocket and Harry cast a couple of warming charms over them. It had snowed on and off the last few days and the grounds were now blanketed in a crunchy layer of white. The sky above was blue and wide and the air was still and calm. Once they reached the Forbidden Forest, Snape pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

“I have something to show you,” Snape said.

“Yeah?” Harry’s heart beat double time against his sternum.

Snape blew out a puff of smoke and reached into his pocket with his free hand. He pulled out the ring. Ginny’s ring. Not at all what he’d expected. Not that he’d expected…anything.

“You found it?”

“Obviously.”

“And?”

“The magic is still working.” He twisted it this way and that, catching the sun and sending it sparkling. “It’s quite good, actually.”

“So Gin’s tracking us right now?”

“She could be.”

Harry chuckled. 

“I’m going to keep it.” He stuffed it back in his cloak pocket. “Let her wonder why it’s always down in the dungeons.”

“She was wondering that already.”

Snape scoffed and drew on his cigarette again. “Idiotic.”

“Invasive.”

“She was so afraid of losing you, she chased you right out the door. When really you’d likely never have mustered up the courage to toss her over.”

Harry’s brow creased. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Were you about to forgive her for shagging Longbottom?”

“Ugh. Neville. Could she have chosen anyone worse?”

“Malfoy.”

Harry swung his face in Snape’s direction, nostrils flared and eyes agog.

“Bulstrode.”

Harry gasped.

“Goyle.”

A laugh burst from Harry’s throat. “Do you think so little of your Slytherins?”

“Not at all.” Snape finished smoking, vanishing the cigarette butt. “Just the annoying ones.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his middle. 

“Are you cold?” Snape waved his wand and layered another warming charm over them.

“I didn’t grab a cloak on my way to breakfast. You could have warned me we’d be walking out in the snow.”

“I wouldn’t have presumed you’d be available.”

“I’m all yours, Snape.”

Snape’s steps shuffled a bit, just barely, and Harry pressed away a grin.

**********

Harry watched Snape set a fire beneath his cauldron.

“Do the house elves deliver food to your rooms?” 

Snape’s brow gathered, making a little line above the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. 

“We should order cocoa and biscuits.”

Snape rolled his eyes.

“Sit by the fire.”

“I’m working.”

“Yes, I see. Pepper Up?”

“Hm.”

“I have watched you make it enough times to know it’s got about another thirty minutes,” Harry said, smirking as Snape’s eyebrow lifted. “After this we should enjoy a cozy fire, order some hot cocoa, and wait for Santa.”

Snape scoffed and stirred.

“What?” Harry asked. “Do you not believe in Santa?”

“Oh, no. On the contrary. I am an ardent believer.”

“Fantastic!” Harry clapped his hands together once. “Maybe the elves could add peppermint to the cocoa. A bit of whipped cream on top.”

“Do you really see me drinking such a thing?”

“I think you have a secret sweet tooth. You hide it from everyone. Except me, a true friend who would never judge you, one who only wishes for you to indulge your vices.”

“All my vices?”

Harry’s face split into a grin. “Every one of them.”

“Very dangerous, Mr. Potter.”

Harry rolled his lips together between his teeth. He crossed his arms on the lab table and bent forward. “Let’s indulge together.”

Snape blinked twice and looked up at Harry through his lashes. Something stretched taut in his expression, in the line of his mouth, and the set of his brow, in the shifting of his eyes. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping against his scarred throat. 

Harry held his breath and watched, intently. 

Snape sighed and with it the tension released. “We could, perhaps, celebrate the season.”

Harry smiled, rapped on the table with his knuckles, and leaned back.

The evening turned out to be immensely relaxing. Snape added a bit more than peppermint to his cocoa and he told Harry stories from his Hogwarts days. The names in them were wholly unfamiliar to Harry, but he enjoyed every one of them nonetheless. 

Harry wandered back to his dorm sometime after midnight, had a lovely wank thinking about sucking Severus off in the Prefect’s bath, and drifted right off to sleep. He woke the next morning to a bright, sparkling pile of presents at the end of his bed. Candy, books, and clothes. He pulled his new Weasley sweater (red and gold strips) over his head. Luna had painted the quidditch pitch at sunset for him; he propped it up on his bedside table. 

There was nothing from Snape, but that was alright. He rolled out of bed and went through his morning routine. He tugged on his favorite pair of jeans and slid his trainers on. He tucked the box he’d wrapped up yesterday under his arm. He grabbed his cloak, knowing that Snape would probably want to go for a smoke in the forest at some point today, and bounded down the stairs and out the door. 

Following in Dumbledore’s footsteps, McGonagall had moved all but one of the main tables to the far sides of the Great Hall. She’d placed one in the center and someone had decked it out in Christmas finery. Then, the elves had piled it high with an abundant breakfast. The room smelled of sugar and bacon and pine. Harry smiled and waved hello to McGonagall, Pomfrey, and the few other students and staff seated around the table. He plunked himself down next to Snape.

“Happy Christmas, Professor.”

Snape eyed the gift Harry had set on the table. “Happy Christmas, Potter.”

Harry made his way through four sausages, two fried eggs, three slices of buttered toast, and one large mug of hot cocoa with a dollop of whipped cream. He watched Snape very slowly eat a bowl of oatmeal, which he’d sprinkled with cinnamon and a sliced up banana. Snape did truly indecent things with the spoon, licking and lapping and pulling it between his lips. 

The professors chatted about a new shop opening in Hogsmeade in the Spring, a bakery of some kind. The shop planned to serve hot sandwiches and coffee and special pastries. The owner was a former student they all seemed to like well enough, even Snape. The students lamented about the utterly unfortunate Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. It had taken place just before the holidays, and Slytherin had trounced Hufflepuff in a shocking upset. Harry found himself torn between the two conversations and therefore not engaging in either.

Snape stood. Harry downed the last of his drink and pushed away from the table. The table went quiet as they all watched Harry stand up. Pomfrey pursed her lips and McGonagall looked at Snape and lifted one eyebrow. She gave Snape a strange look, one that made Snape’s shoulders bunch up around his ears. He pushed in his chair and his hair swung forward, blocking his face. 

Harry’s brow creased. He picked Snape’s gift up and turned away.

Snape steered them out the front doors, but instead of their usual path through the forest, they walked around the Black Lake. Snape was quiet and contemplative, and it made Harry fidgety and clammy. He didn’t know what to say and found himself in turns rambling and silent.

By the time they returned to the castle, the Great Hall and corridors were empty and silent and cold. Harry tugged his cloak more tightly around his chest. The wrapping around the gift crinkled, seeming much louder in the echoing stairwell down to the dungeons. 

The quiet of Snape’s quarters were not much better. It shifted to something more pressing. Harry felt it on his skin, constricting his lungs. He stood awkwardly in the entryway, dithering from foot to foot, as if he hadn’t been in Snape’s room dozens of times. He’d been here just last night, for god’s sake. He watched Snape disappear into his bedroom and return. Their eyes met and Snape pulled a red and gold-wrapped box from behind his back. 

Harry’s breath knocked from his lungs and he smiled. He held up his own wrapped box. “I had to charm an old issue of the Daily Prophet for wrapping paper.”

“What a coincidence. I did as well.”

Harry chuckled. 

They swapped gifts and Harry lifted his against his new Weasley sweater. “It matches.”

“Absolutely planned,” Snape deadpanned.

“Gifted in Divination as well? What can’t you do, Snape?”

Snape smirked and ran a finger under the edge of the paper, unwrapping just as delicately and carefully as he did everything else with those lovely hands. Harry’s heart thumped as the gift he’d chosen was revealed: the softest throw blanket Harry could find in London. It was a minty green color and had fringed edges.

Snape laid his palm against it. “You’ve charmed it?”

Harry nodded. Since he’d found out about his mum and her skill with charms and alchemy, and the whole debacle with Ginny’s ring, he’d been reading up on imbuing objects with magic. He’d applied charms to the blanket that made the user pleasantly warm and content. 

Snape’s brow creased. “There’s something else.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if a blanket was… I don’t know.” Harry shook his head. “Open it up.”

Snape unfolded the blanket, layer after layer, until he got to the center. The book wobbled and almost fell, but Snape caught it. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “You’re giving me my own property as a Christmas present.”

Harry took the blanket from Snape so he could look at the book. He huffed. “Technically, yes, but the gift is more that I braved the charred remains of the Room of Requirement to retrieve it.”

“Room of Requirement?” He skimmed his fingers over the front and back covers, down the spine. “What is the Room of Requirement?”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “On the seventh floor? The Come and Go room?”

Snape shook his head. 

“I…I’ll show it to you,” Harry said. “You don’t know about it? You’re sure?”

Snape clicked his tongue. He flipped open the book to the middle and ran a finger along the burnt edges of the pages.

“It’s in good shape considering.” Harry hugged the blanket and his gift to his chest. “I didn’t know it was yours, in sixth year, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Snape turned the pages, one at a time, taking in the markings and notations before moving on to the next. “Where did you find it originally?”

“Slughorn. I didn’t think I’d be taking Potions sixth year and so I didn’t have a textbook the first day. It was in a cabinet.”

Snape hummed. “Open yours.”

He handed the blanket back to Snape. Snape set the book down and started to fold the blanket, not watching as Harry peeled the paper from his present and lifted the lid from the box inside. “Books.”

Snape opened his mouth and then closed it, blowing a breath out of his nostrils.

Harry read the first title and laughed. “Authority Issues: Dealing with Terrible Bosses When You Are A Terrible Employee. Is this a real book?”

“Why would I give you a fake book?”

Harry set the book on the arm of the sofa and looked at the next book in the stack. “Dating in the 90’s for the Blind and Oblivious.” He smiled, his face stretched so wide he could barely read off the next title. “What To Do When You Are An Absolute, Utter Disaster. Okay. You are starting to hurt my feelings a bit.”

Harry glanced up at Snape and found the man digging a crooked canine into his bottom lip as he watched Harry. Harry met his darting eyes with narrowed ones and moved onto the last book, which turned out not to be a book at all, but, “A notebook? Two notebooks? Three?”

Snape opened his mouth, closed it. “They belonged to me as a teenager—younger even, second and third year. Me and Lily, actually. We would write letters to each other, draw pictures, inane mundanities, and pass it off in the hallways.”

Harry sucked in a breath and it caught in his throat. He swallowed and looked back down at the simple black and white composition books. The corners were frayed and bent. Someone had labeled the front of the top one with “Boring Herbology Notes” and then right underneath was a crude drawing of a Mandrake sucking on a dummy.

“I—struggle speaking with you about your mother. But you should have—you need to have parts of her. To understand, appreciate, who she was, what she was, to me, to the world.”

“Thank you.”

“You weren’t allowed, because of me—”

“Severus—”

Snape held up a hand and shook his head. “Because of me.” He drew in an uneven breath. “Because of me you lost that opportunity and this is such a small, small way that I can attempt to give that back to you.”

“I love it. And all the surely, very informative books you layered on top of it in a completely failed attempt to not make this moment mushy and sentimental.”

“Yes, well. Merry Christmas, Potter.”

Harry smiled. “Merry Christmas, Snape.”

Chapter Text

“Who can tell us the five principles of Young’s Law of Anti-Hexes?”

Harry’s hand shot into the air. 

Snape’s eyes swept the room, skipping right over Harry and saying, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione glanced at Harry and then listed them all off perfectly. Harry sunk down into his chair. He toyed with the corner of his textbook and watched Snape flick his wrist at the chalkboard.  The principles listed themselves there in a familiar spidery scrawl. 

Snape caught his hands behind his back. He strolled up the center aisle, expounding on the first principle. Tendrils of his hair swung as he went, looking silk soft and a bit oily. Nothing at all like Harry’s hair, which was always a fluffy tangle. 

Snape passed Harry and Harry swiveled in his chair to follow him. The air left in Snape’s wake smelled of mint and something woodsy and smoky. It was difficult to see the shape of his body from behind, hidden beneath his robes and his teaching cloak, but when he spun back around to return, Harry could see the slim width of his hips, the long lines of his legs, and the breadth of his chest and shoulders. Their eyes met as Snape continued to the front of the room. 

Harry turned around and scooted himself further under his desk. 

“Tell me why the second principle is the most important.”

Harry raised his hand, arse dancing on the edge of his seat.

“Potter.”

Harry smiled. “If you don’t keep it in mind, you will double the strength of the original hex instead of undoing it.”

Snape nodded and crossed his arms. Harry’s smile widened and he brought his elbows up to the desk, resting his chin on his laced fingers. Snape’s lecture voice resonated through Harry, sinking into his gut, commanding his attention. 

He’d like it if that voice commanded him to do other things: Bend over…Get on your knees…Suck my cock…all seemed lovely.

Harry’s stomach muscles tensed and flexed and heat gathered between his legs. He scooted backwards in his chair, bent forward, and brought his legs closer together. 

Severus could grab onto Harry’s hair, guide his mouth to his cock. The hot weight of Severus on his tongue, Severus easing his length down Harry’s throat. 

Harry shivered. He looked around, caught Hermione’s eyes and gave her a small smile. He really needed to stop fantasizing about Snape in class. He pulled his notebook closer and picked up his quill.

At the end of class, Harry made sure his robe covered him properly before standing, even though he’d managed to rein himself in there by the end. He swung his bag over his shoulder and followed Hermione out into the hallway, peeking over his shoulder at Snape one last time before he left.

Hermione tugged him close and whispered a harsh, “Harry!”

“What? What did I do?”

She pursed her lips and released her grip on his robes. “You’re very obvious, you know.”

“Obvious?”

“You were practically drooling on your desk.”

Harry’s eyes widened and narrowed. He glanced around and ducked further into Hermione’s space. “What are you talking about?”

Hermione took a breath. “I know you said you aren’t ready to talk about it, but other people are going to start to talk for you if you aren’t more careful.” She steeled herself and added, “And I know Professor Snape could not possibly be helped by rumors that he is sleeping with a student.”

“Hermione.” Harry’s vision went funny at the edges, white and hazy, as the blood rushed around his body erratically. “I am not—we are not—he has never been anything but completely professional.”

Hermione exhaled, ruffling the curls that had escaped her bun. 

“At the very least, everything has been wholly platonic.”

“I am not judging that you have feelings for him, not at all, but I cannot condone you having an improper relationship with a teacher.”

Harry swallowed and played with his lip between his teeth. “I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

“You need to be careful how much time you spend with him, how you look at him.” She shook her head. “You are always watching him, Harry. Do you even realize it? In the Great Hall, in class. At Order meetings. Your eyes never leave him.”

“They do sometimes. To glare at Robards or roll my eyes at Neville.”

Hermione didn’t look amused by that. 

“Fine. I do like him. Like, a lot, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes searched his. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to be around him all the time.”

Hermione smiled, small and full of pity.

“But I’ll be more careful. I promise, alright?”

Hermione nodded, her lips pressed into a white line.

Someone slammed into Harry’s shoulder, knocking him into Hermione. 

Ginny. 

She looked back at him as she walked away, face pinched and red. She looked absolutely livid. 

**********

Harry apparated into being on a coastal stretch of Anglesey. His assigned partners, Hallewell, Quincy, and Morrant, popped in next to him. They were surrounded by long, swaying sea grass and low, craggy boulders. The sky was clear, moonlit, and speckled with stars. It smelled of salt and earth and damp. The wind pulled at his red robes, whipping them around his legs and tugging them against his chest. 

Harry straightened his shoulders and raised his wand. He, Hallewell, Quincy, and Morrant turned and surveyed their surroundings, keeping their backs to each other, not leaving themselves open to attack. They spread out across the length of a couple Quidditch pitches and walked, falling into an easy rhythm of mindful spell-casting, hunting for traces of magic or the presence of anything purposely hidden or dampened. The magic was not difficult, though it was taxing. Harry found himself sweat-soaked and exhausted at the end of each night. He’d have just enough energy to debrief back at the Ministry and floo home to Hogwarts before collapsing in bed, only to wake a few scant hours later for class. 

He’d fallen asleep in Herbology yesterday. Sprout had pursed her lips and warned him he was lucky his Fanged Geranium hadn’t nibbled on him while he’d been unconscious.

Harry cast his detection spells. He walked fifteen paces and cast again, over and over and over. Robards estimated their team of twelve will have combed the whole of Anglesey within a month. It was tedious work, but tangible. He and Ron weren’t teamed together, on account of them both being new, but Harry saw him every night before they left the Ministry and then again after, when they debriefed. Also, Harry liked his partners. First off, they weren’t Robards, and second, they were focused on the task at hand and let Harry get on with it right alongside them. 

Harry mounted a wide, flat rock that was in his path. His eyes swept the vast expanse around him. He could see his partners, stretched over a half mile track, moving onward through the tall grass. He could see the twinkle of lights from distant homes and towns. He saw the darkness of the nearby bay.

He closed his eyes and felt the emptiness around him. The quiet susurration of grass against grass, the churn of the water against rock, the wind in his cloak, his hair.

He lifted his wand and cast his spells. 

Sensing nothing but clear, open air.

**********

Dumbledore smiled down on Harry. 

Harry met his eyes, watched his smiled widen and his eyes twinkle, and then looked away. 

McGonagall poured tea into two cups. She reached over her desk to place one within Harry’s reach. “Thank you for coming today, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded and twisted his tea cup so the handle was on the right side. 

“I wanted to check in with you, see how your year was going.”

“It’s great, fine.” Harry spooned sugar into the tea. “My grades are decent, I think.”

“Yes, good, good.” McGonagall wrapped her fingers around her cup. “I was not particularly worried about your grades.”

Harry added a splash of milk and began to stir, his brow creasing. “Is there something you are worried about?”

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, yes.”

Harry wanted to point out that he hadn’t mentioned it; she had, but he kept his mouth closed.

McGonagall gathered herself. Her shoulders shifted and settled. She raised her chin. She cleared her throat and said, “It’s S—Professor Snape.”

“Is he alright?” Harry shifted to the edge of his seat.

McGonagall waved her hand. “Of course, yes. Well, I assume, yes. I’ve not seen him since breakfast.”

Neither had Harry. Harry perched his hands on the arms of his chair, ready to take off and check on Snape if need be.

“Perhaps worried was not the correct word.”

Harry relaxed back.

“I am…curious,” McGonagall said, tucking her chin. “You and he have been spending an awful lot of time together. Alone.”

Harry opened his mouth. He closed it and swallowed.

McGonagall’s eyes darted over Harry’s face. Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who only smiled down at him again. Harry looked into the swirl of his milky tea.

In Harry’s silence, McGonagall continued, “Severus and I have a complicated relationship. I have known him a very, very long time. His whole life, in fact. I watched him grow from a knobby-kneed, awkward boy to a very angry, troubled young man. I watched him turn his life around, grow bitter and withdrawn, but still dedicated and loyal and strong-minded. I watched him face impossible odds and unimaginable danger with immense bravery and stoicism. I saw him come back bleeding and broken, in ways not restricted to the purely physical.”

She paused, taking a deep breath. Harry’s heart was beating in his chest. His throat was clogged with something hard and wet. He blinked his eyes and swallowed against it.

“I spent a year thinking he’d murdered Albus, my friend, our friend. I witnessed him commit more atrocities in Voldemort’s name than I care to remember. I called him horrible things, treated him like a traitor, like scum.” McGonagall sipped her tea. “We have lost that year. I am not sure we will ever fully recover, but we are both trying.”

“I am too,” Harry said, voice small. “Trying, I mean.”

McGonagall nodded. “I thought that was what you were doing, initially.”

Harry’s lips parted.

“But I no longer think that is what it is. If it ever was.” She looked at Harry. “You can’t imagine how protective I feel. Of both of you, Harry. I want you to be happy. I want him to be…at peace.”

Harry’s brow drew together.

“People are beginning to talk. It is only speculation and half-hearted comments between students, colleagues, friends. I do not want it to grow. You have to know how rumors of an illicit relationship between Severus Snape and a student, any student, would go over with the public.”

“We are not engaging in anything illic—”

McGonagall held up a hand. “You must also know how much worse it would all be if that student were you, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.”

Harry hands shook. He scrubbed and scratched at his jawline with one hand and shoved the other under his thigh. “I don’t…I would never want to hurt him. Never.”

“I know,” McGonagall said with a small smile. “I am not saying this to dissuade you forever. I am asking you, Harry, please, wait.”

Harry swallowed.

“Allow yourselves to recover, grow. Become what you will become.”

Why couldn’t they recover together? Couldn’t they become what they would become in the safety of the other’s presence? 

Harry looked away and nodded.

********** 

Harry circled the Angelsey Parish Church. Its white plaster walls seemed to glow in the darkness. Harry put a hand to the south wall and cast his spells. They revealed nothing, but something snagged on Harry’s magic as it withdrew. 

He narrowed his eyes and cast again. 

Again, nothing. There was no catch at the end this time. 

Harry took a step back and scanned the wall. He glanced around. Something was off. Harry knew it in his bones. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The air was still to the point of tautness, as if the world was braced, ready. 

Harry’s breath panted out from him in puffs of white. He licked his lips and ducked against the wall. He crept to the corner and peeked around the edge. He could see Quincy off in the distance, close enough to hear if Harry shouted, to see if he shot off a warning flare. He thought of Draco and the dead unicorn in first year and didn’t want his partners to think he was overreacting. He stepped forward, lightly, sliding along the west wall towards the front of the church. 

A spark of something struck his shoulder and crawled upward. Magic closed around his throat and released. Harry spun, wand out, magic ready. The spell formed on his tongue, but didn’t pass his lips. The magic fizzled out on its way to Anders.

“Hi, Harry.” He smiled and then grimaced. “Sorry, silencing charm.”

Harry pointed his wand to the sky as Anders lunged. Anders forced him against the wall. He bashed Harry’s arm against it until he dropped his wand. They both watched it roll away beneath a scrub.

“Crude, but effective,” Anders said. He gripped Harry’s wrists and pinned them above his head. The cracks and dips of the plaster scrapped Harry’s skin. Anders pressed his hips to Harry’s, forcing his body back against the wall. The cold of the wall seeped through Harry’s robes and chilled his sweat-damp skin. The heat of Anders body had him recoiling as far into the cold as he could get.

His face a breath away from Harry’s, Anders whispered, “All alone here, Harry?”

Harry forced his eyes to meet Anders, not wanting to give away his partners. Hopefully, someone would see him, hear something, notice him missing. 

“Tsk, tsk, very dangerous going out without your protector.”

Harry blinked and his brow gathered. He struggled against Anders, kicking out his leg, pounding a foot into the wall, making noise however he could, until Anders aligned their thighs and pressed in. 

“Stop that,” Anders growled, then calmed. His voice took on a saccharine tone. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet.” 

He ran his nose down the length of Harry’s, nuzzled at the sensitive skin behind Harry’s ear. Harry shivered and jerked against him. 

“Shhh,” Anders cooed against the shell of his ear. He pulled back and gazed at Harry. His eyes were such a startling shade of blue. His lips tugged up into a smirking sort of smile and revealed shining white teeth. “Your heart is beating so fast, boy. Are you scared?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered through a series of blinks. He wasn’t scared, actually. He was angry, livid. It thrummed beneath his skin and pulsed. He focused on it and met Ander’s gaze. His magic sparked in his veins and became a physical thing. Golden, bright and warm like sunshine on a summer day. He grabbed onto it and pushed Anders away.

Anders stumbled back and laughed. 

Harry held out his hand and summoned his wand. 

Three loud pops rang out as Quincy, Hallewell, and Morrant appeared. 

Another four bodies apparated in. Soon enough the small space beside the church was a blaze of magic and light and smoke. 

Anders and his four comrades deflected and blocked the Auror spells. They fired off spell after spell after spell of their own. 

Harry’s pulse pounded in his ears, his skin thrilled with each movement, each twist and turn of the fight. Each hit he took enlivened him and drove him on. He forced Anders and his Death Eaters back and back and back. 

There were grunts and howls. The smell of ozone and churned dirt. Morrant went down and didn’t get back up. A series of cracks around them and the chaos increased. Everything became loud and louder and peeked. There was a puff and a blast and darkness descended around them. There was shouting and the pops and cracks of apparation. Harry stood his ground and waited, gathering his bearings. 

As the Peruvian Darkness Powder cleared, it became apparent that the Death Eaters were gone.

**********

Hours later, when Harry appeared in McGonagall’s floo, she took in his torn robes and bloody face and escorted him directly to the infirmary. Most of his wounds were superficial, but, it turned out, he had broken his wrist. 

Pomfrey went off to find Skele-Gro in her stores as Robards and Kingsley stepped through the doors and approached Harry’s bed.

Kingsley placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Well done, Harry.”

“Don’t coddle him. The boy’s fine.”

Harry was fine, but he still ground his back teeth together. “I am fine,” he said. “And I didn’t actually do anything. He surprised me and I reacted.”

Kingsley pointed a finger at him. “Reacted well.”

“Kept himself alive.” Robards cocked his head. “You did fight well, I’ll give you that. Your magic is strong.”

Harry pursed his lips.

Snape burst from Pomfrey’s office, the mediwitch shuffled behind him with a fierce look on her face. Snape’s eyes found Harry and he charged over.

“Severus.” McGonagall’s eyes shifted between Harry and Snape. 

Snape rounded the bed, coming up along Harry’s other side. He placed a vile of Skele-Gro on the side table. “Let me see.”

Harry held out his arm. Snape gently grasped Harry’s forearm and looked at the red, swollen wrist. Finger impressions circled Harrys wrist, purple, raised, and vivid against the red warmth of the break. Snape reached for his other arm and Harry offered it up. The same purple bands marked that wrist. 

Snape sneered and released Harry. He glared at Robards and Kingsley in turn. “Are you happy now?”

“You can’t bubble-wrap the boy, Snape,” Robards growled.

“You’ve sent him out like bait.”

“Hardly.”

Kingsley raised his palms. “He was in a group. All safety precautions were taken. Nothing outside of the standard Auror procedures took place.”

“Except you had a Hogwarts student, not an Auror, on your Auror team.” Snape crossed his arms. “Tell me, what did you gain from having him there besides his preternatural talent at luring the most devious among us from the shadows?”

“He is far from incapable of taking care of himself,” Kinglsey said. “We left him to it for an entire year, if you will remember.”

“I never forget it for a moment.”

“He is an asset to our team,” Robards stepped forward. “And, yes, he does draw the attention of those we are looking for. So what?”

Snape’s sneer grew sharp and he opened his mouth. 

“Snape.” Harry shook his head. “Stop. I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Yes, look at you.”

“I broke my wrist.”

“He broke your wrist.”

“I’ve had worse, much worse.”

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line.

Harry glared at Robards. “I knew my purpose out there.” He looked back at Snape. “I don’t care. Whatever gets him caught.”

Robards nodded, once, sharply.

Snape’s hands curled into fists, his knuckles cracked. He clicked his tongue and reached for the flask of Skele-gro. He handed it off to Harry. “Drink it.”

Harry did. 

“I will accompany Potter from now on.”

Harry choked on his potion.

“You will not,” Robards said, clenching his teeth.

“Dumbledore entrusted his welfare to me, and I intend to see it through.”

Harry wiped his mouth, his brow scrunching. He blinked and looked down at his lap. He watched the swelling shift and reduce. It hurt; a pinching, burning feeling ran up and down his fingers, the meat of his hand, his forearm.

Robards said, “I’m not allowing a Death Eater—”

“Former Death Eater,” McGonagall interrupted.

“I’m not allowing him on any team of mine.”

“Well now,” Kingsley said. “There is some merit to this. Severus is a very capable wizard. He is an asset all his own.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry said. The potion made him woozy, but he stood up anyway. Kingsley shifted out of the way to make room for him. Harry turned to stare Snape down. “I don’t need a bodyguard or a personal protector, Snape. I’m fine.”

Snape’s nostrils flared. His eyes went dark and hard. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”

Harry nodded. His mouth tugged up on one side in a sneering smile. “Thanks.”

Harry spun on his heel and stomped from the room, letting the door slam on his way out.

Chapter Text

Harry’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest. His red robes stretched across his back and pulled in at the armpits. He ignored the discomfort and fisted his hands. He concentrated on not looking at Snape seated beside him. Hovering there like his minder.

Because, to Snape, Harry was nothing more than an inept, useless child. 

Harry had killed Voldemort. 

He had fought Death Eaters and psychopaths.

He’d survived the Dursleys’ tender mercies and the Ministry’s campaign against him.

He’d struggled, alone, through the unrelenting chaos of his life for the last eighteen years and emerged (mostly) unscathed on the other side. Bare minimum: he could hold his own in a fight. 

None of that mattered to Snape. To Snape he would always be a helpless, annoying child. Lily’s pitiful son. The wretched spawn of James Potter. 

So much for friends, so much for equals.

Harry clenched his molars together and lifted his chin.

“We need a new plan,” Robards said, pacing at the front of the room. He had given the special Auror team a day to recover before he called for them to regroup at the Ministry. Morrant was still in the hospital, but he’d make a full recovery. 

Snape had drafted himself to the team, strong-arming the Head of the Auror Office, the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and the Minister of Magic into bending to his ridiculous whim. 

“Our leads have dried up completely. In fact, we have reason to believe we were being led by the nose all along.” He glanced at Harry. Harry kept his face even and placid. “So, new plan,” he continued. “And a new colleague.”

Everyone turned to gawk at Snape. Even though he was angry, disappointed, with the man, Harry still mustered up a couple of glares to go around. Ron clapped, once, twice, before letting it peter out into awkward silence. Snape remained unaffected, or at least, for the most part, appeared so. His foot did twitch and curl inward.

“Our goal is the same: root out the remaining Death Eaters and Voldemort Loyalists, with Anders as our new priority. We need only find them.” Robards placed his hands on his hips. “So, ideas?”

Snape raised his hand. Harry fought the urge to reach for it and pull it back down. 

“Snape?” Robards smirked and gestured for the man to go ahead.

“I know many of the people you are searching for. I know how they think, how they operate. I will use my knowledge, my contacts to find weak spots in their organization, infiltrate their ranks, and locate their hideouts.”

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach. His eyes slid closed. He squeezed them completely shut, until the world was completely dark.

“Not possible,” Robards said. 

Snape clicked his tongue and Harry opened his eyes.

Snape straightened in his seat, laced his hands together in his lap. “My past success at this endeavor disagrees with you.”

“You are enemy number one now, Snape.” Robards spit out, “The Big Traitor, capital B, T.”

“I am more than capable of wheedling my way back in.” Snape shrugged insouciantly. “I assure you, I can do it.”

Murmurs spread around the room. 

Robards eyes narrowed. “You really believe that?”

“I would not have offered my services if I didn’t.”

Robards gazed at Snape, his mouth tugging into a thoughtful pout. He hummed and tilted his head. He nodded. “Let’s work on the details then. In private. After this meeting.”

Harry swallowed; it was difficult with the spiked lump that had worked its way up from his gut and stuck itself in his throat. This was his fault. Snape was right back where he was last year, spying and risking his life, because of Harry. Because, despite everything, Harry hadn’t proven himself worthy of Snape’s trust and regard. Harry’s inability to take care of himself had Snape following behind him, continuing to clean up the mess that was his life.

**********

Ron stayed with Harry after the meeting. Both of them leaned against the wall opposite the room they’d met in. Ron pressed his shoulder to the wall and watched Harry. Harry’s eyes locked onto the closed meeting room doors across the empty corridor and stared.

“I know you don’t like it, mate, but this could be exactly what we need to end this,” Ron said, lowly. “He was fantastic during the war. No one suspected him. He accomplished so fucking much.” Ron paused. “You always say, we never could have won without Snape acting as spy. Maybe that’s still true. Maybe we need him now.”

The words washed over Harry. He didn’t want to hear them. He didn’t want to believe it had come to this already, barely half a year out from Voldemort’s demise. The people he loved were supposed to be safe now. 

“Harry—”

“Yeah. No, I heard you, alright.” Harry pushed away from the wall. He dug his fingers into the roots of his hair. He paced up and down the corridor. “This is my fault.”

Ron scoffed. “You always say the most ridiculous things.”

Harry scowled at Ron on his way past.

“Not everything is about you.”

Harry jabbed his finger at the door. “This is. This is very much about me.”

Ron shrugged. “There were Death Eaters long before there was Harry Potter. And, I’d reckon, there will be something of their sort long after you as well.”

“Anders comes after me.”

“And he’d come after someone else if there was no you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and flapped a hand at Ron.

The meeting room doors opened and Harry halted. Snape emerged, looked at Harry, at Ron, and turned left. Harry leapt in that direction and trailed after him.

“Why are you doing this?”

Snape marched towards the bank of lifts, robes flying behind him.

“Snape.”

Snape mashed the button for the lift and glanced behind Harry. Harry looked over his shoulder. Ron waved from where Harry had abandoned him. Harry threw a hand up in response and turned back. 

“I don’t like this,” Harry said. “It’s dangerous.”

Snape sent him a baleful look as the door slid open. Several people were already crowded inside. A few of their jaws dropped open as they took in Severus Snape in all his glory and Harry Potter in Auror red. The group scuttled out of the way as the pair of them stepped onto the lift, giving them a much wider berth than they needed. 

Harry bit his tongue as the lift started to move. Secrecy would be absolutely essential now. No one could know what Snape planned to do. Harry almost wished Snape hadn’t announced his plan to the room full of special Aurors. He certainly wouldn’t be continuing their one-sided argument in this enclosed space. Harry crossed his arms and glared at the backside of the lift doors.

The doors opened onto the wide expanse of the Ministry Atrium. Harry and Snape plowed forward through the cavernous room, their steps echoing and ringing around them. Snape’s legs were so much longer than his though. He could outpace Harry in a heartbeat and disappear. Harry couldn’t let that happen. He had to talk Snape out of this mission. He had to stop him from sacrificing his freedom.

They reached an open floo and Harry wrapped his hand around Snape’s bicep. “Please, stop.”

Snape pulled from his grip. He spun on Harry, his eyes hard and his mouth pinched shut. He stared down at Harry and Harry stared right back at him, his eyes just as flinty. Harry was not going to budge. 

Snape bared his teeth, a quick flash of his canines. “You will floo to my quarters. I will follow. I will listen to you for five minutes and then you will leave.”

Harry searched his eyes. He nodded, once, and stepped into the floo. “Snape’s quarters.”

Harry moved out of the way and turned around as Snape emerged from the green flames behind him.

“You cannot do this.”

“You do not tell me what to do.”

“Then I will ask you not to do this.” Harry pressed his palms together. “Please.”

“Do you want this to end?”

“I want for you not to do all this again.”

“Anders is nothing, a peon. I’ve fought better men and won, Potter.”

“I don’t want you to fight anymore.”

“And I want for you to be able to go be an Auror, if you want. Or fly around a Quidditch pitch for some team with a moronic name. Or run a bloody ice lolly cart in Diagon Alley is you so bloody choose.” Snape stomped across the room, gesturing madly. “And I want you to be safe doing it. If I have to find this worm of a man myself and strangle him.” Snape’s hands shook as their motions matched his words. “Then so bloody be it. And you,” he jabbed a finger at Harry, “don’t get to say a fucking word about it.”

“I will say whatever I damn well please.”

Snape growled.

“You are not one of them and they know it. You can’t sneak back into their ranks and think they won’t hurt you, kill you,” Harry’s voice cracked. “And that cannot happen.”

“I have done this before, boy—”

“Do not call me that.”

Snape pressed his lips together and continued, “I spied for Albus Dumbledore for years, Potter. I know what I am doing. I would not risk it if I didn’t. I am not much good to you dead.”

You are everything to me alive. The words hung in his mind. Waiting to drip onto his tongue and pour out of his mouth. The two of them were panting, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. A chair separated them. If it didn’t, Harry may have fallen to his knees.

“I am begging you not to do this. Please. There has to be another way.”

Snape’s jaw clenched and his Adam’s apple pushed against his collar as it bobbed up and down with a swallow. “I am not without means to defend myself should things go sour.”

Harry pushed his fingers beneath his glasses and pressed hard against his eye sockets, sending the black void behind his lids sparking.

“I am not suicidal. I would not do this if I did not think there was a chance I could succeed.”

Harry pulled his hands down over his mouth and looked at Snape with wide eyes.

“If I could end this, bring further peace, what kind of man would I be if I did not?”

Harry dropped his hands. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. What was he supposed to say to that?

“Severus.” Harry put his hands on his hips, sniffed away any emotion from his voice. “I hate this.”

Severus curled his hands into fists and looked away. “You should leave.”

“Is there anything I could say, anything at all, to change your mind?” Harry said. “Because I will say it in a heartbeat.”

Severus exhaled a breath through his nostrils and shook his head.

Harry took a step towards him, but Snape held up both palms and glared. He pointed a finger at the door. Harry’s shoulders slumped. He gave Snape one last long look and left.

**********

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, the Marauder’s Map unfolded and laid out before him. 

Tracking Snape’s usual haunts was the only way Harry knew when he wasn’t in the castle. That he was out somewhere playing the hero instead. Snape shared nothing about his mission with Harry. His lips tightly sealed about any of the details. Snape snapped and snarled and sent him away when he pushed. 

Harry wouldn’t give up though. He just needed to find someway to get around Snape’s defenses. If he could only come up with the right combination of words, the right argument, the right miraculous something, he would be able to steer Snape from his path. 

In the meantime, he would have to be satisfied with just keeping a watchful on the man.

Snape’s office was empty. So was his lab and his classroom. No movement in his quarters. 

Last Sunday afternoon, Harry was certain he’d watched Snape take a nap. His label settled down and stilled in his bedroom for two hours. Harry sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, his eyes flicking between his Transfiguration paper and the map the entire time. It had been peaceful, knowing Snape was tucked away and safe beneath the castle. 

Harry wished he was there now. He scanned the corridors for a stalking Severus Snape label as his eyes made their way to the Headmistress’ office on the seventh floor. The halls were empty. Most students had hunkered down for the night in their dorms. A few were cloistered away together in various nooks and crannies around the castle. Harry sighed and pressed his lips together. 

There he was. 

Harry’s back straightened and he bent over the map to watch Snape’s name pause in front of McGonagall’s door, move up the spiral staircase, and then cross the office to her desk.

Harry touched the name, lightly, and it moved, pacing from one side to the other. McGonagall sat still behind her desk. Harry imagined her watching Snape stomp and rant and complain about Harry bloody Potter. Harry pressed his finger against the name, trying to pin the man down.

It didn’t work. Snape escaped from beneath his thumb and moved over to the window.

Harry hugged his arms around his ribcage. He kept his eyes glued to Snape’s name.

**********

The Gryffindor Quidditch team shivered and hugged their broomsticks close to their chests. Harry flexed his gloved hands. He’d had enough of this winter nonsense. He was ready to skip right through February and get to the springtime sunshine of late March. 

“Great playing so far,” Ginny called out. She glanced over her shoulder at the Ravenclaw team huddled together. “Just give more of the same. Harry, find that bloody snitch so we can go back inside.”

Harry nodded. His teammates clapped him encouragingly on the shoulders. 

Hooch blew her whistle and the teams kicked back off into the air. Harry circled the pitch, eyes searching and searching. He swept past the professors’ box and couldn’t resist twitching his sight towards Snape. Snape safely sat beside McGonagall. His back pin straight and his face impassive. Harry pushed more speed from his broom and whipped away. 

He pulled himself to a stop. The day was cloudy enough to keep the sun from his eyes, but not so overcast as to be gloomy. It helped Harry to see everything without obstruction, but there was also nothing to glint off the snitch. Harry pressed his lips together and let his eyes rove over the pitch, high, low, near, far. Another chill ran through Harry and he tucked his shoulders up to his neck. 

His eyes went back to Snape. Just a black smudge amidst the rainbow of house colors of the other professors. 

“Eyes on the game, Potter!” Ginny pulled up beside him, shouting. 

Harry opened his mouth, brow furrowing, ready to yell something back, but she kicked off and was gone. Harry inhaled, deeply, the cold prickling his lungs and tightening his belly. He glanced at Snape one last time before dashing off to the opposite side of the pitch. 

Alas, a Gryffindor win was not to be. The Ravenclaw seeker found the snitch fifteen minutes later to a loud mixture of groans and cheers. Harry tucked his hands into the roots of his hair and tugged. He cursed and descended to line up for the ‘good game’ team handshaking. 

Ginny landed behind him. Harry could smell the citrus-vanilla of her perfume and the musky salt of sweat. She placed a hand in the center of his back and shoved. Not enough to draw attention or to cause Harry to fall. But plenty hard enough to jostle him and get her point across. Harry turned narrowed eyes on her over his shoulder. 

Once back in the locker room, Ginny decided to get her point across more thoroughly. 

She stomped in behind everyone and went off, “What the hell, Potter?”

The team turned, hesitantly, to watch their exchange. 

“If you aren’t going to focus and keep your moony eyes off—”

“Shut up, Gin.” Harry gritted his teeth and glared at her. “I was focused. It wasn—”

“Real focused. Focused on the stands.”

Peakes and Coote whispered behind their hands and Harry heard it spread to some of the others. He felt all of their eyes on him. Harry threw his glare to his teammates and shouted, “What are you all staring at?”

“They’re staring at the person that cost them the game. But it would be better aimed at Snape, wouldn’t it? He’s the one you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.”

Harry reeled back. He’d known what she was hinting at, had known she had certain ideas about he and Snape’s relationship, but he hadn’t really expected her to lay it all out for the entire Quidditch team to dissect and gawk at.

Ginny crossed her arms. “Don’t deny it.”

Harry ran his tongue along his top teeth. He looked at the faces around him. Their expressions ran the gamut between unnaturally passive and blindingly baffled, but nobody would meet his eyes. Harry didn’t know what to do, what to say. His skin itched and there was a strange ringing in his ears. Harry had an awful, sinking realization. 

There was no chance that Snape wouldn’t find out about his stupid crush. 

Harry was rubbish at keeping a secret. Rubbish at hiding anything about himself from the world. He wore his whole heart on his sleeve. Nothing was his own, nothing was sacred.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m so—I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I was focused on the game, Gin, guys. Believe it or not. I don’t care.”

Ginny huffed and uncrossed her arms. “Whatever.” 

She turned away to the girls’ shower area. The other girls followed her. The boys took off for their own showers, leaving Harry alone in the center of the locker room.  

**********

Harry’s favorite jeans had a hole forming over his right knee. The weave of denim had weakened and unravelled and fallen away. Four white threads spanned the growing void and pulled taut against his pale skin. Harry traced across them, one after the other, with his finger. 

Robards stood at the front of the room, giving an update to the Auror team. They were seated in rows, listening, learning nothing new. Robards map was up on the wall. New pins and strings marked and connected different locations. Photos of different people, some mug shots, some more candid captures, circled the map. The faces looking out of each photo tracked Robards as he moved around the room. 

Harry looked at his knee next to Snape’s. Snape’s legs were longer, but he sat all the way back in his chair whereas Harry slouched a bit. So their knees lined up perfectly side-by-side. Snape wore well-fitted trousers beneath his robes. They were easier to move in probably, better wind resistance for swooping about. But they hugged his knee just so and Harry could see the lines of his kneecap, the bend of his joint.

Harry’s fingers itched to reach over and touch him, to trace the dips and rises of Snape’s body. He flicked his eyes to Snape’s face. He expected Snape to be paying attention to Robards or the board or the map or whatever was happening now at the front of the room, but his eyes were on Harry’s knee. 

Harry’s finger twitched from the threads of fabric to his own skin. Cool and smooth. His dark, thin leg hair caught in the grooves of his fingerprint. 

Snape’s eyelids fluttered and he shifted in his chair.

Harry held his breath and let his legs fall open. Only slightly. Ron was on his other side and he didn’t want to pull his attention. But enough to close the gap between his leg and Snape’s to nothing more than a breath.  

Harry looked up again. Snape’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth. The flesh, soft and rosy, was bitten white around his sharp teeth.

Harry huffed and Snape’s eyes snapped to him then swung away. Snape crossed his legs and his arms, pulling far away from Harry. Harry watched him as Snape swallowed. His eyes flicked to Harry and Harry lifted his eyebrows and forced his mouth to twitch up into a small smile. Snape closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 

Harry sighed. He pulled his arse to the back of his chair and bent forward, resting his elbows to his knees. 

**********

“Harry,” Hermione whispered across the library table. “Do you think it’s a good idea to have that out in here?”

Harry looked down at the Marauder’s Map. The little squiggly names drifted up and down the corridors. Harry shook his head. “It’s fine. No one cares.”

Hermione’s lips flattened into a straight line, but she went back to her paper.

Severus Snape’s name was nowhere to be found. Harry hadn’t seen it at all today. It wasn’t abnormal for him to go missing from the map all weekend. At least, it wasn’t abnormal anymore. Harry turned to the next page of Goshank’s Standard Book of Spells, Year 7, having not read the previous page. He scanned it quickly and then looked back at the map.

When Snape returned from a mission, he sometimes came in through the floo in his quarters. Sometimes, he walked in the front doors. Once, he’d returned through McGonagall’s floo.

Hermione looked around. There weren’t very many people in the library with them, and none nearby. Hermione still whispered when she asked, “Is he out?”

Harry nodded. He drummed his fingers against the table. “He’s been gone since yesterday morning.”

Harry knew he probably shouldn’t have told Hermione about Snape’s new task. He knew he should have been keeping it a secret from absolutely everyone, not breathing a word of it outside of the Ministry. But he needed someone to talk to, to vent to, while Snape was shutting him out.

Hermione hummed and looked down at the map with Harry. “I know it’s hard, but try not to worry too much. He’s very good at what he does. He’s had loads of practice.”

“Things can still happen. How many of our plans fell to shit once we were on the ground fighting? And this whole situation is different from before. It’s not the same fight.”

Hermione ran a finger along a bent fold in the map. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, and I don’t want Snape fighting anymore battles for me.”

“That is not what is happening, Harry.”

“He is out there, alone.” Harry bit his bottom lip. “He never has anyone at his side. When he does these things, he’s not—he’s all alone. I hate that he is always alone.”

Hermione’s eyes went wet and glassy. 

Harry crossed his arms and looked away. 

“He’s not alone, Harry. “

Harry turned back to Hermione. 

She smiled and shrugged. “Look at you. He’s not alone.”

Harry blinked, his brow scrunched. He scoffed and returned her smile. They both looked back down at the map. 

Harry inhaled. “Look. There he is.” Harry pointed to the front door.

He and Hermione bent over the map and watched the name. He’d come in the front door and stopped. No one else was in the Entrance Hall. A couple names lingered up the stairs a ways. Maybe Snape was shouting at them to get to their dorms. Then, the name flickered out and they both gasped. It popped back into existence and Snape shifted left. Then more left. The name flickered again and then tucked itself into a corner by the door and stilled. 

Harry was up out of his seat, out of the library, and pounding down the corridor to Snape within one heartbeat and the next. 

Chapter Text

Harry pounded down the stairs, hopping over the trick steps and dodging wayward students, until he reached the empty Entrance Hall. He went straight to the corner he’d watched Snape stumble to on the Marauder’s Map. Between his hair, his robes, and his boots, Snape blended into the shadows to near perfection. If Harry hadn’t already known he was there, he never would have spotted him. 

Harry knelt down next to the collapsed form tucked upright into the dark corner. Snape’s eyes were closed. His breath rattled and wheezed from between his parted lips. Sweat glistened on the skin across his forehead and made the hair at his temples damp, matting it into clumps. 

“Snape?” Harry laid his hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall, the warmth of his body, against his palms. Harry couldn’t see any blood or bruising, no wound at all, but it would be hard to tell with the way Snape bundled himself up in all that fabric. Harry took Snape’s face between his hands. He ran his thumbs over high, sharp cheekbones. “Snape. Severus, come on, wake up.”

Snape’s shoulders hitched and a white foam trickled from the corner of his mouth. 

“Shit.” Harry’s heart kicked against his sternum. He looked around for help, hoping Hermione had followed him, but he didn’t see anyone. He turned back to Snape; he looked so pale, grey even, almost blue. “Fuck.”

He needed to get Snape to the infirmary. Snape was thin and lanky, but, Merlin, he was heavy. Harry’d struggled with getting him up and down the stairs for meetings, out of bed and to the loo, all last summer, and that was with Snape conscious and helping him. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He’d have to charm him and float his body up to Pomfrey. He really hoped his magic, the movement, didn’t worsen whatever was wrong with the man.

Harry pressed his forehead to Snape’s and took in a breath. “Please, Severus. Please be okay.”

Harry sniffed and pulled away. He shifted Snape so he was flat on his back. He straightened his legs and crossed his arms over his chest so they wouldn’t drag on the ground or hang lifeless at his sides. They jerked up and down with each hitching breath Snape took as his lungs struggled for air. 

Harry held his wand out and carefully levitated Snape’s body into the air. He walked him to the staircase just as Hermione came clattering down with McGonagall at her heels. They met him at the bottom step in a rush of concerned faces and gesturing. 

“Oh, Severus.” McGonagall touched a hand to his shoulder and tucked a lock of dark hair behind Snape’s ear. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at Snape. Harry felt the burden on his magic lighten. “Come, Potter, hurry.”

They maneuvered him up the stairs to the first floor and down the corridor to the infirmary. Harry couldn’t stop looking at the spread of Snape’s twitching eyelashes, the parting of his pale lips, the stuttering lift of his chest. He could have sworn Snape looked paler, bluer by the second. By the time they lowered his body onto a hospital bed, Harry was bursting out of skin. His eyes stung. Movement swirled around him, but Harry couldn’t look away. He scooped up Snape’s hand and held it in his own. The hand trembled and shook and Harry grasped it against his belly to still it. 

Pomfrey was there with her wand, making light dance and flicker above Snape, telling her whatever she needed to know to help him. She flicked her wrist and cleaned his face, unfastened a row of buttons, and loosened his robes and shirt around his throat.

Harry placed a hand on Snape’s forehead and bent close to his ear. He smelled like tobacco and mint and something cloyingly sweet. “Snape. Wake up, you bastard. Wake up or I will tell the whole world some little peon Death Eater poisoned you with chocolate biscuits, I swear I will.”

Harry backed away, but didn’t take his hands off of Snape, as Pomfrey chanted something and poured a potion between Snape’s lips. McGonagall reached past Harry to massage Snape’s throat, forcing him to swallow.

Harry shifted his hand so his fingers were in the damp hair at Snape’s temple and his thumb smoothed over a dark eyebrow.

Everything stilled and went quiet as they waited. Harry swallowed and swiped his tongue across his chapped lips. Wind rattled the windows and something faraway creaked and settled.

“Come on, Severus,” Harry whispered. “You’ve got this. You’ve got it. You are so strong. Come back to me.” He tightened his grip around Severus’ hand. “No good to me dead, remember?”

Severus’ back lifted from the mattress as he pulled in a great gulp of air. 

“Yes, yes,” Pomfrey chanted and rubbed Severus’ arm. “Good, Severus. Breathe, breathe.”

Harry watched Severus’ chest rise and fall in a regular rhythm. Up, down, up, down. Color pinked his lips, his cheeks. Relief shook through Harry, making him weak and shaky. He fell forward to his elbows. His face buried itself in the pillow next to Severus’ head. He aligned his stubbly cheek against Severus’ smooth one and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to crawl onto the bed. He wanted to press his body against Severus’, hold him, feel the warmth and life pump through his veins, the air enter and leave his lungs. 

A hand was on his back, rubbing circles. Harry pushed his face further into the pillow, forcing himself not to cry. He inhaled the smell of Severus’ hair, his skin, his robes, along with the musty odor of infirmary sheets. He pulled back, pressed his forehead to Severus’ one more time, and straightened. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and over his eyes. Hermione hugged her arms around his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder. 

Pomfrey trailed her wand over Severus’ body, from the top of his head to his toes. “Only traces left, and those are fading.”

“Thank Merlin,” McGonagall said, a hand patting Severus’ knee. “Thank Merlin.”

“He should be fine,” Pomfrey said. “We will have to wait until he wakes to be sure nothing has lingered or caused lasting damage, but I am not sensing anything.”

Harry nodded and asked, “When will he wake up, you think?”

“Not long.” Pomfrey looked at him and gave a small smile. “He is very strong, Mr. Potter.”

Harry desperately hoped so in the same breath as he wished he didn’t have to be.

**********

Pomfrey was both right and wrong. 

Relatively speaking, it did not take long at all for Severus to wake up. However, with the adrenaline leaving his body and the night pressing in, it felt like ages and ages to an exhausted Harry. Hermione had returned to her dorms, not even bothering to ask him to come with her. Pomfrey had retreated to her quarters, again, not bothering to suggest Harry leave Severus to rest. McGonagall had sat with him at Severus’ bedside for two hours before she too headed off to her own bed, leaving Harry alone with Severus. 

His eyes were gritty with sleep and emotion. He kept pushing his fingers beneath his glasses to scrub at them. He traced a vein along the back of Severus’s hand, from his center knuckle down to where it disappeared at his wrist. He watched the pulse flicker in the pale, scarred column of Severus’ throat and the gentle movement of his chest, still on display from Pomfrey loosening his robes as he struggled for air.

Harry could tell when Severus was nearing consciousness. His fingers did that curling, uncurling thing Harry remembered from over the summer and his nose twitched as he snuffled. Harry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He pressed his lips together and waited. 

Severus’ eyelids peeled apart in the wee hours of the morning. He stared up at the ceiling and fluttered his way through a series of blinks before he focused and turned his head to look at Harry.

“You said you would be safe.”

Severus closed his eyes and turned his face back to the ceiling.

“You said—”

“I know what I said.” Severus’ voice rasped out between clenched teeth.

“Are you done now then?” Harry bent forward. “Now that someone’s tried to off you, again.”

“I was careless. It won’t happen a second time.”

“A second time?” Harry’s mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious.”

Severus struggled his way up to a seated position, hissing and clutching at his stomach. Harry clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from helping Severus. Severus scrubbed his hands over his face, glanced once at Harry, and swung his legs off the other side of the bed. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked and stood up.

Severus hobbled towards to the door. “I think that is rather obvious.” 

Pomfrey, wearing a yellow and grey housecoat and a nightcap, appeared in the doorway of her office. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To sleep this off in the comfort of my own bed.”

“No, you are not.” Pomfrey met him at the door and blocked his way. “Get back in bed immediately.”

Severus’ shoulders slumped. “Must we?”

“Yes, we must.”

“I assure you I can handle this from here.” He lifted his arms and held them out. “Check me here and now.”

Pomfrey clicked her tongue, but scanned her wand over his chest, his stomach. The air sparked with magic and both she and Severus eyed whatever it told them about Severus’ health.

“I have the necessary potions in my quarters.”

Pomfrey’s lips thinned into a line and she looked at Severus for a long moment, but then she nodded and stepped aside. 

Harry huffed and pointed at Severus’ retreating back. “He plans on going back out there, to spy.”

Severus swung around and slashed his hand through the air. “That is not up for discussion.”

Pomfrey’s eyes met Harry’s before turning to Severus. “I am sure Minerva and Kingsley will have some things to discuss with you.”

Severus growled and yanked the door open. He marched out into the corridor, Harry right on his heel, leaving Pomfrey and the infirmary behind them. 

Harry had to jog to keep up with him. “You’d rather have me watch you die.”

Severus didn’t stop, didn’t respond. He turned a corner and pounded down the stairs. Harry followed barely a step behind him. They reached the Entrance Hall and Harry knew once they got to the dungeons and to Severus’ quarters, he had no chance of forcing this conversation, knew he’d be locked outside, alone.

“You think my mother would want—”

Severus had spun around so fast Harry stumbled back a step with the momentum shift. Severus’ eyes pierced straight through him. “You do not get to speak about what your mother would have wanted of me.” 

They both panted into the cool air between them, gazes locked on one another.

Harry gnashed his back teeth together and shook his head. “I will speak to you about whatever I damn well please.”

Severus emphasized his next words with swift hand motions. “I am your teacher. You will respect—”

“You are so much more than my bloody teacher. You can shake your head and protest all you want it does not change the fact that I am—”

Severus grabbed him, his hands circling Harry’s biceps. His fingers dug in, hard, and Harry flinched and squirmed. Severus shook him, not roughly, just enough to stop Harry’s words, to still him. He looked at Harry, eyes wild and desperate.

Harry reached up and wrapped his fingers around Severus’ forearms. Very quietly, he said, “Severus.” 

Severus’ shoulders tensed and rose towards his ears, but his grip loosened and he blinked.

“You have done enough for me, for this cause, for a lifetime. I am begging you to stop.”

His nostrils flared. “I will stop when you are safe.”

Harry’s fingers tightened around Severus. He wanted to pull Severus forward, wanted to wrap his arms around him, to hold him and not let go. They were already so close together, clutching at each other like they were. Harry could feel the heat of Severus’ breath as it gusted over his face. He could still see the skin of his throat, the ridge of his collarbone peeking out from his unbuttoned robes.  

Severus pulled himself free. He took a step back, and then another. He turned his body away from Harry and blew out a breath. He looked back at Harry and shook his head. “Potter, I am exhausted.”

“Yeah, almost dying will do that to you.”

“You’d know.”

Harry’s mouth tugged up into a smile, and he hated Severus for it. “I’m not done with this.”

Severus sighed. “I was under no delusion that you were, I assure you.”

“I can be very persistent.”

Severus’ tongue ran across his bottom lip. A single dark brow rose. “I know.”

**********

Robards had given Harry Auror robes to wear to their team’s strategy meetings and when he worked in the field with everyone. They were completely plain and unadorned, simply a heavy red robe with a black belt. No medals, no rank signifiers. Ron, as a trainee, had a yellow patch sewn onto the left side, over his chest. Harry had nothing. He did not necessarily want anything, but it made him feel even smaller, less significant, than he already felt, sitting in a room of fully-trained and experienced Aurors.

 “Here,” Robards pointed to a location on his map, “and here,” he pointed to another. “These are the new areas of focus for our teams.”

Harry wondered how much of this new information had come from Severus and his spying. If what he did out there, whatever that was, was what was steering the team in this new direction. 

Harry glanced around. Severus wasn’t here tonight. Harry supposed being poisoned on the job had earned him a pass. 

If that was even what had happened. 

Harry had assumed so. That was what it had looked like to him. 

Harry wasn’t privy to that information, and Severus sure as hell wasn’t telling him anything about what had happened that night.

If Harry ever found out who had managed to slip poison into Severus Snape, he’d murder them. Slowly. 

Robards met Harry’s eyes. Harry straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back. Robards lifted an eyebrow and continued.

**********

“If I hear so much as a whisper.” Severus informed the class as he stalked down the middle aisle they’d created. “You will all owe me three feet on Cronvendor’s Theory of Proportional Intent.” 

Harry followed Severus’ movements. His graceful stride and perfect posture. Like he hadn’t knocked at death’s door less than a week ago. Harry wondered just how many times Severus had returned to Hogwarts near death and rose the next morning to teach a class. How often had Harry sat in this classroom and been an ungrateful brat, glaring at this man while his body was still healing from some Death Eater horror? The thought made Harry slightly breathless. 

“Select your spell and begin.”

Hermione lifted her wand and, with her lips pressed together, shot off a spell. A tickling jinx, Harry thought, as he deflected it without speaking. Hermione gave him a half-smile and a nod before assuming a defensive position. 

Harry thought for a moment, then lifted his wand and reached for his magic, bright and golden. A book flew from behind Hermione and headed towards her back. She ducked and it crossed the gap and smacked Harry in the shoulder. 

Harry grunted and rubbed at the spot it had hit.

“Interesting approach, Potter.” Severus bent to pick up the book. “Next time don’t stare at the object you are summoning and completely give the game away.”

Harry nodded. Severus released the book and it floated back to its place on the shelf behind Hermione.

“Subtlety, Potter. Practice it even in friendly sparring, or you’ll stand no chance against an enemy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus’ jaw twitched and he moved onto the next pair of students. 

The class continued on for another hour, mostly in silence. Harry thought everyone had much improved over the last few months with their wordless spell casting. Severus reminded them, regularly, that it would be a significant portion of their NEWTS grade. 

“That’s enough,” Severus said, resuming his place at the front of the room. He glanced around the room, mulling them all over. “Dismissed.”

Harry waited, fiddling with his bag, as the room cleared out. Harry waved his wand to shut the door behind the last person. He turned to look at Severus, eyebrows lifted. Severus rolled his eyes and sat down on the front edge of his desk. 

“You look much better,” Harry said as he approached.

“I’m perfectly fine, Potter.” He crossed his arms. “As I told you I would be each time I’ve seen you in the last week.”

“You weren’t at the Auror meeting last night.”

Severus shrugged. “That is not your concern.”

“Does that mean that you’ve reconsidered this suicide mission?”

“Hardly.”

“Christ, Severus. Please.”

“You’ve been taking an awful lot of liberty with my name lately, Potter.”

“Feel free to take every liberty with mine.”

Severus cocked his head to one side. “I don’t think I will.”

“Of course not,” Harry said. “Look, I don’t actually care what you call me as long as you stop this undercover nonsense.”

“My undercover nonsense won us a war.”

“And I am eternally grateful. More than you could possibly fathom. But I’d like to have the chance to show you the depths of that gratitude, and I won’t be able to if you are dead.”

“How very dramatic.”

“I found you unconscious in a corner with foamy spittle spilling from your lips, so no, I don’t think I am being dramatic. I think I am being rational. Sane. And you are the one being completely moronic.”

“Watch yourself.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Severus pushed off of the desk and stepped forward.

“I will not have this argument with you every time I see you.” Severus stepped forward again. “You will stop. You will let me—”

Harry grabbed his face, one hand on each soft cheek, and pulled him down. He pressed his lips to Severus’. He wasn’t kissing him, and Severus wasn’t kissing back. They were just two people mashed together. Harry’s breath puffed from his nostrils, hot and fast. Severus seemed to not be breathing at all.

Harry flexed his lips against Severus’ still ones. He pushed his hands into Severus’ hair, cradling the back of his head. Eyes firmly shut, Harry tilted his own head and kissed Severus again, and again. Slowly, he swiped his tongue along the line of Severus’ mouth. 

Severus’ breath hitched and Harry felt his body twitch and startle. Harry shuffled forward, closing the space between them and settling Severus’ body against his. Severus was warm, and he trembled against Harry. Harry’s stomach clenched and flipped over. Heat flared from low in his belly, up his chest and out to his limbs. He kissed Severus again, harder, and flicked his tongue against Severus’ bottom lip. 

Severus kissed back, a quick shift of his lips against Harry’s, and Harry groaned. Severus made a noise, deep in the back of his throat, a keening, growling noise. His hands came up and gripped Harry’s hips. 

Harry pushed forward, pushed until Severus connected with his desk and went down. Severus’ legs parted and Harry moved between them. He pressed his body against Severus’, at last. God, at last, and he wanted to touch all of him at once. His hands moved down Severus’ neck, across his broad shoulders. Harry racked his fingers down a firm chest.

Harry’s cock ached, throbbed, and he wanted so badly to press and rut against Severus, to find the hard line of Severus’ cock hidden beneath his robes. He wanted to know that Severus felt the same, that he wanted just as desperately. He wanted to unravel Severus and touch him, his skin, every part of him. 

Severus reached up and those hands, those beautiful, perfect hands that Harry had held and touched, laced into Harry’s hair and clutched. Harry moaned and opened his mouth. Severus did the same and this was it, finally. His tongue was in Severus’ mouth and Severus’ worked his own against it. 

Harry pushed, and pushed, until Severus was on his back. Harry climbed on top of him, lips never breaking contact, and straddled Severus’ hips with his knees. 

Harry ground his hips down and then up. Severus pulled away, hissing, and threw his head,  connecting forcefully with the desk beneath him. His eyes squeezed shut, his breath came in gasps, his mouth slack and wanting. 

Harry ground his hips in again and Severus keened and opened his eyes. That veneer cracking. Harry was doing this, Harry was taking him apart.

And then he wasn’t. 

Severus pushed and shoved and rolled from beneath Harry and stood up. He turned his back. Harry watched that back heave in one breath after another, watched those hands come up to cradle Severus’ face. 

Harry licked his lips. “I’m sorry. I just…wanted. So badly.”

Severus said nothing.

Harry shook his head, took in a breath. He pulled himself up from the desk and stepped towards Severus, his hand outstretched. 

“Don’t you dare.” Severus curled into himself with a twitchy flinch. 

Harry’s chest rose and fell. He swallowed. 

“You wretched, reckless child.”

Harry closed his eyes. And there it was. Harry swallowed gravel. He would never be anything but that to Severus, would he?

“What in the world are you thinking?” Severus whipped around. “What is wrong with you?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He dug his fingernails in and scrapped them forward. 

“You are my student.”

Harry panted, his chest rising and falling as he watched Severus. Severus’ dark eyes, his pale skin, his lips, wet and kiss-swollen. His hair disheveled and wild around his angry face. 

“I could be fired for laying a finger on you.”

“You hate this job.”

Severus pressed his mouth into a tight line. “I could be thrown in Azkaban.”

“I’m an adult. It’s not a crime.”

“It should be.”

Harry laughed, but it came out almost as a sob.

“What you think you feel for me is not real, Potter.”

“Don’t call me Potter when you are rejecting me.”

Severus’ tongue raced across his bottom lip. “You have had a hard year. A hard few years. You are recovering and searching for a new purpose.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. 

“I cannot be that purpose. I should not be.” Severus looked away. “I knew that you…I should have put a stop to it immediately. This is my fault. I’ve abused you horribly, your kindness—”

“Stop it. Just fucking stop it.”

Severus crossed his arms and curled his lips. 

“Do you like me?”

Severus sent him a baleful look.

“You aren’t my new purpose.”

Severus scoffed.

“Christ, Severus. I just like you.”

“This will not happen.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Well. That’s a long time.”

Severus reached up and pulled his fingers through his hair, flattening it. He yanked at his robes and arranged them back into place. 

Harry ran his tongue over his teeth and pursed his lips. “You still look well-kissed.”

Severus stilled. He eyed Harry. Then, he tugged on his cuffs and rolled his shoulders. He cleared his throat. He didn’t look Harry in the eyes as he said, “You need to leave.”

“Just like that.”

“Yes,” he hissed out. “I have a class to teach and you have a class to attend.”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t imagine sitting through Charms after this. He couldn’t imagine doing anything again after this.

“For both of our sakes, we will pretend this never happened.”

A laugh burst from Harry’s chest.

“Do you understand, Potter?”

Harry shook his head and walked over to his bag, snatching it up. “Perfectly, Snape.”

Severus’ hands curled into fists, his knuckles popping from the force of it.

Harry clicked his tongue and wiped his mouth with his palm. He turned on his heel and marched from the room. He yanked the doors open to a corridor full of wide-eyed first years. He swept a glare over all of them and left. 

Chapter Text

Harry walked into the Great Hall the next morning with his shoulders back and his head high. His eyes met Severus’ at the staff table. Harry flashed him a smile and Severus’ nostrils flared and his chest puffed out. 

Harry only smiled wider.

Severus had another thing coming if he honestly thought Harry Potter would forget what happened and fade into the background like some shrinking violet. 

Harry inhaled, nodded, tore his eyes from Severus’, and strode over to the Gryffindor table.

“Hermione,” he greeted and slung his bag under the table.

She looked up from her bowl of Honey Loops as Harry took a seat across from her. “Harry.”

Harry cast a Muffliato charm and said, “I kissed Snape yesterday.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her spoon stilled halfway to her mouth. “You what?”

Harry nodded, once, with his lips pressed together. “I kissed him. After class.”

They both looked over at Severus. Severus caught them at it and his spine went pin straight. He narrowed his eyes and, endearingly, his cheeks pinked right up. Harry smirked and Severus bared his teeth.

Hermione turned back to Harry. “It didn’t go well then I take it?”

“No, not so well.” Harry licked his bottom lip. “It started off pretty mild, then it was spectacular, but the end was disappointing.”

Hermione’s brow gathered. “Is he not a good kisser?”

“No, it was the best kiss of my life.” Harry grinned, remembering the heat of Severus’ mouth, the slick push and pull of their tongues, the look of Severus’ head thrown back, overcome with want. “Just much, much too short.”

“Ah.” Hermione’s spoon finished its journey to her mouth. 

 “Yeah.” Harry sighed and reached for a banana. “He says I should pretend that it never happened.”

Hermione hummed and looked down, scrounging around her milk for the last few loops of cereal. “Maybe you should.”

Harry took a bite of his banana and arched one eyebrow.

“Well, he is your professor, Harry. Kissing him is a terrible idea, really, if you think about it.”

Harry chewed and narrowed his eyes.

Hermione continued, “He could get in loads of trouble.”

“I thought you supported me.”

“I do. Of course I do. If you want to be with S-Snape and Snape wants to be with you, I will support you. But,” Hermione’s shoulders sagged, “Oh, Harry. Why couldn’t you wait? A few more months and you wouldn’t be a student here any longer.”

“He could be dead by then. Or I could.” Harry dropped his empty peel. He clicked his tongue and reached for a mug and the carafe of pumpkin juice. “I guess I didn’t really think about it. I just sort of did it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “But he obviously didn’t want you to.”

“Well, I mean…”

“Harry. Did you learn nothing from your relationship with Ginny?”

Harry snapped his mouth shut and swallowed.

“Consent is important. Always. You can’t force yourself on him.”

Harry nodded, shakily. “You’re right. Yeah. Merlin. I am such—”

“You aren’t.” She shook her head. “Just go slow. It will happen, if it’s meant to, when it happens.” Hermione smiled. “If it helps though, I do think he wants to.”

One side of Harry’s mouth tugged upwards, but it fell away as he remembered. “Actually, he said yesterday that he would never want to.”

“Oh.”

“That I’m a child. That what I think I feel about him isn’t real. He thinks I’ve made him into some kind of charity case. He said he’s my new purpose, whatever that means.”

“Have you?”

“No. I honestly, truly just like him.”

Hermione pursed her lips.

“I know. I know it’s strange given everything, but…” Harry shrugged.

“Well, then, none of his reasons sound like he doesn’t like you, necessarily. He’s obviously unsure about your sincerity. You are rather young and inexperienced and you do have that saving people thing. His concerns don’t lack merit.”

Harry shifted his eyes up to Severus at the Head Table, sat by himself in the last chair at the end. He held a piece of toast between his fingers and he was just staring down at it with a pinched, thoughtful look. 

How much worse would today be if they had stripped off yesterday, right there in the classroom, if he’d touched Severus and Severus had touched him, and then today Severus regretted it? If Severus resented him and blamed him?

What if Severus became put off by Harry and avoided him? 

Like Harry’d been with Gin at the end. 

Hermione reached across the table and covered Harry’s hand with hers, bringing him back to the moment. “You need to be careful and you need to be sure.”

Harry nodded, more than a little ashamed, and waved his wand to end the quieting charm. 

In a flutter of noise and feathers, the morning owls swooped into the room, dropping off scrolls, newspapers, and packages. Harry looked for Hedwig, a terrible, lingering habit that made his chest ache, before he remembered and grabbed his own piece of toast and the jam jar.  

Hermione set two scrolls aside and flipped open her Daily Prophet. She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Harry.”

Harry licked a smear of jam from his finger. “What?” 

Hermione turned the paper around and Harry’s mouth fell open.

“Boy Who Lived In Love With Death Eater Severus Snape!”

Harry looked up at the staff table. Severus had the paper clutched in his hands as he read fervently. 

Up and down every packed table in the room, including the staff table, people murmured and read and gawked first at Harry and then at Severus. 

Harry pressed his lips together and reached for Hermione’s paper.

Sources close to the much-beloved Harry Potter say the boy hero has been busy pining his brave little heart out for none other than the much-maligned (rightfully?) Severus Snape. The two spend all of their free time cloistered away together in the Hogwarts professor’s personal quarters. 

We feel compelled to inform you, the Wizarding public, that, yes, Snape is indeed currently Potter’s DADA professor. 

Our source states, “I’m not sure if they’ve done anything yet, but Harry absolutely wants to. His whole world centers around what Snape is doing, where he is at, how he is feeling, and on and on and on. It’s getting really old. He’s impossible to be around.”

Harry Potter championed the clearing of Snape’s name and record last summer, after the end of the Great War. His memorable interview, published in this very paper, recounted the extreme hardships undertaken by Dumbledore’s spy in order to aid Harry Potter in his victory over He Who Must Not Be Named and his minions, Snape’s fellow Death Eaters. Potter told a tale of lost love and deep remorse, the search for redemption and a bravery beyond measure. 

This reporter admits to being charmed and dazzled by Potter’s account.

However, we are disturbed by the turn this story has taken. 

After all, that lost love Potter spoke of was between Severus Snape and his own mother, Lily Potter. 

Has Snape replaced one Potter for another?

Our source presents another, more nefarious option:

“Snape is using Harry to repair his rubbish reputation. No one believes he should be free and walking among us. He should be in Azkaban, but that will never happen with Harry on his side. He knows that Harry is his ticket out of answering for his past. Harry’s obsession has even landed him a wholly undeserved spot working in the ranks of the Ministry’s Aurors. Right at Harry’s side, of course.”

Could this be true, readers? Is Snape using our Boy Hero? Leading him on? Or is he indeed canoodling with his student after dark?

Two pictures were included with the article. One of Harry, taken during the Triward Tournament his fourth year, and one of Severus, looking stern and professional in his teaching robes. Side-by-side, obviously meant to highlight the age difference and the teacher-student dichotomy at play in their relationship. Harry took in a shuddering breath and glanced up at the staff table. Severus was gone.

**********

Harry rushed from the Great Hall. He pushed his way out of the front door and strode towards the lake. His breath puffed white and cloudy from his lips. He dug his fingers deep into the roots of his hair and stopped at the shoreline. He stared out over the great expanse of the Black Lake, dark and still in the grey morning light. 

He closed his eyes and tried to forget. Forget the damn article, forget the disaster he’d created with Severus, forget the target Callum Anders had placed on his back.

He hugged his arms around his ribcage and opened his eyes. He shifted his gaze over his shoulder and towards the front gates of the school. 

Why was he even here at Hogwarts? 

He didn’t need to be. 

He could be out there, away from all of this. 

He could seclude himself from the press, from Robards, from the Order. 

He could be free to pursue Severus, to spend every waking moment with him.

He hadn’t been thinking about that when he’d decided to come back to Hogwarts for his final year, hadn’t known yet that he would want to do that. Maybe he did though, somewhere deep down. He’d certainly felt drawn to him, known he wanted, needed, to be near him. Severus was there in the back of Harry’s mind upon waking each morning and before falling asleep each night. At first snapping and snarling, but now softer, warmer. A comfort. 

Harry was pretty sure that he loved Severus now, actually. Not in some school boy crush way, not some kind of fleeting fancy. Harry loved Severus, bone-deep and all-encompassing. 

Severus was the center of everything. 

The Prophet’s source knew. They’d been right in that regard at the very least. 

Footsteps crunched over the icy grass behind him, coming closer and closer. 

Harry sighed. “I’m fine, Hermione. I just need a minute. Head to class—” Harry turned around and was surprised to see that it was not Hermione who’d followed him down here, but the absolute last person he wanted to talk to right now. “Gin.”

“Hello.” 

She sidled up next to him and Harry shifted two steps away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Ginny sighed. “I read the article.”

“Of course you did. Everyone did.” He glanced at her, a quick up and down, and then looked back out to the lake. “You were the source, right?”

Ginny crossed her arms.

Harry shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Why would you do that?”

Ginny picked a stray thread from her robes. “I was angry at you. Still am.”

Their eyes met. 

Ginny blinked and tucked her chin to her chest. “Nothing I said wasn’t true.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists. “You had no right to talk to anybody about it.” He turned his body towards her. “I don’t understand you. We were friends once.”

“I know.”

“Just because I can’t give you what you want—”

“You could have though.” Her brow scrunched up and her mouth pursed. “You didn’t even try. You never came back to me at all. As soon as everything was over, you chose him over me.”

“I didn’t—”

Ginny laughed. “Yes, you did. All summer. You were at his bedside, in his quarters.”

“He was hurt and alone.”

“So was I. So were we all.”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “Gin.”

“You couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Ginny pulled her bottom lip between her white teeth, the pink flesh indenting around their sharpness. A breeze caught her hair and Harry picked up the familiar scent of oranges and vanilla. He swallowed and wiped at his nose. 

“Besides,” Harry continued. “You had been shagging Neville for months before all of that happened.”

“I was lonely.”

“You think I wasn’t? I was, but I didn’t have a go with Hermione.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course I bloody didn’t.”

Ginny hummed and lifted her chin. “I messed up with Neville, but things between us were off before you found out about him.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled and he scoffed. “Would it have been better for me to be deeply, madly in love with you when I found out?”

“So, you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you didn’t love me.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed. Opened again. He looked away and cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t, I guess.”

“Because of Snape.”

Was it because of Snape? Harry didn’t know anymore. 

He’d spent all summer with Severus. That was true. 

He’d spent nearly every night in the infirmary while the man was unconscious. 

He’d watched him sleep and held his hand. 

When he was away from Hogwarts, he was only ever half gone, part of his mind had always stayed behind at Severus’ bedside. 

He’d been terrified that Severus would up and disappear. That he would take a sudden turn for the worse. He’d been even more terrified of when Severus waking up. That he would reject him, rant and rave and cut him down with that silver tongue. 

That hadn’t really happened though. Severus hadn’t exactly been an open book, and he still wasn’t, but what they had wasn’t nothing. It was closer to something real than what he’d had with Ginny. And, if he could break through a few more barriers, if he could wiggle his way into Severus’ heart, Harry knew they could be so much more. 

They could be something spectacular.

Harry gave Ginny one last look before he turned and walked back to the castle.

**********

The castle was dark, quiet, and cold as Harry slipped out of Gryffindor Tower and descended the staircases to the dungeons. He knew Severus was in his quarters because he’d watched him pacing in his rooms, for the last hour or so, stalking from one side of his sitting room to the other. Harry also knew that Severus likely did not want to see him now, or possibly ever again, but that was so unrealistic it bordered on farcical. 

Harry’d spent the rest of the day ignoring his classmates, not meeting their eyes, pretending to not hear them whispering as he passed. He wasn’t ashamed about what the Prophet had printed. He didn’t even really care if the world knew about his feelings. But he knew Severus cared. He knew that his feelings didn’t come without repercussion for Severus, and that he cared about a great deal.

He knocked on Severus’ door. He sighed and knocked on it again.  He rolled his eyes and knocked a third time and kept knocking. The door finally whipped open and Harry said, “Why bother trying to delay the inevitable?”

Severus’ jaw tightened and he gave Harry a withering look with a tilt of his head.

“You knew it was me at your door and you knew I wouldn’t leave until you opened it. I’m not above making a scene.”

“I’d like to think that with this morning’s incident you’d have more sense.”

“Incident? What incident are you speaking of?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Harry smiled. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll just start then. When we kissed—”

Severus clicked his tongue and dragged Harry into his quarters. 

Harry took a few steps forward and turned around. “Who knew you’d be so easy to manipulate.”

“It’s self-preservation. Something you wholly lack, you frustrating brat.”

“No one was around.” He patted the robe pocket that held the Marauder’s Map. “I checked first.”

Severus followed his hand with a confused expression. It dawned on Harry then that he’d never actually told Severus about about the map. Well…that wasn’t why he was here. Harry cleared his throat and decided to get on with what he’d come to say while he still had his courage up. 

“I was really angry with you yesterday, after you, you know, rejected me in your classroom.” Harry ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “I skipped all of my classes and had a good sulk in my dorm room.”

“Like the child you are.”

Harry gathered his brows together. “Do adults not sulk? I could have sworn I’d seen you sulk a time or two.”

Severus narrowed his eyes.

“So, anyway, I was having a sulk, feeling sorry for myself and hating the whole world, and I did a lot of thinking. About me and you. And, like you said, my new purpose in life. I thought a lot about our kissing, and about pressing you down into the desk. You moaning and throwing your head back.” Harry smirked. “After a nice wank…not the first time I’d done that thinking of you, by the way…I really dissected the moment, and I think you liked it. I think you wanted me too, but you’re all moral and noble…things I love about you…but I really thought that that might be all that was really holding you back.”

“They are not small things,” Severus interrupted, his eyes hard.

“And then, this morning, before the article, Hermione dashed all that. She told me that kind of thinking was rubbish and selfish. And she was right, of course. I can’t force this on you if you don’t want it. Or even if you do want it, but don’t want to want it.”

Severus’ lips curled inward, pressing into thin line.

“But, I have to say this, so you know all of it before you decide to write me off. Okay?”

Severus’ eyes darted around the room before returning to Harry’s. He nodded.

“I can’t promise you everything will work out. I can’t promise you anything but myself. I know, know, Severus, that I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” Harry lifted a hand to the coming objection. “A short life, yes, but not an idle one. And I can wait.” Harry smiled, small and sincere. “I can wait for you for as long as you need.”

Severus swallowed. “I could never ask you—”

“You don’t have to.” Harry licked his lips. “I’m pretty sure I love you. I don’t know a lot about it…love, I mean…but you have been, you’ve been everything, you’ve taken up every bit of me. That stupid article…it got that right. You are the center of my world.”

Severus closed his eyes and tilted his chin to his chest. 

“I know you probably have a million moral objections about why this shouldn’t happen, and you know that I will counter every single one of them with something frustrating and reckless. So I say we skip that part, and you just tell me how you feel, actually really feel, absent the rational, reasonable Snape-ish logic.”

Severus watched him.

“I’ll start because I know it’s scary. I love you. I love the thought of us as a team, in this together. I have no idea what the reality would look like, or feel like, but I want to try.”

“You are a teenage boy, thinking with your cock.”

Harry shivered hearing that world, from that mouth, in that voice. “I won’t lie. I think about you…like that all the time. But that’s not everything, not the whole of it. Not nearly all of it. I love so many things about you. How protective you are, how passionate. Your loyalty.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. An ideal you’ve formed in your mind from the war.”

“You’re a complete bastard. Mean and judgmental. Stubborn and cold. Pessimistic to a fault. Rude.” Harry scoffed. “So fucking rude sometimes. And you snore, like a freight train. Your nose is a bit too big for your face, really.”

Severus huffed. His ears had gone all red. He shifted from one foot to another.

Harry pulled a breath into his lungs and continued, “I love walking through the forrest with you though. I love how you always smell a bit like mint. I love that you twist your hair up into a bun when it annoys you. I love that you gave me letters for Christmas. I love that you markup your books. I love that you have coffee and toast every morning for breakfast. I love how clever and quick you are. You see life so differently from me, but also so much like me that it’s almost scary. I love the way your fingers curl and twitch when you’re about to wake up. I just love your hands. The shape of them. The way they feel against my skin. The way they look cradling a tea cup.”

“Stop, enough.”

“Maybe it’s not like that for you. Maybe you don’t think about me like that. Maybe you just liked kissing me because I was a warm body.”

“I never said that.” Severus said, so small it was almost a whisper.

“But it’s absolutely unacceptable for you to go on thinking that I don’t see all of you and love all of you, as a whole person. My feelings run deeper, are more nuanced, than wanting you as an outlet for sex or in some quest for a new purpose.”

Harry took a breath and waited. He’d poured his heart out here. He didn’t expect a gushing return of feelings, but he’d expected something. Severus had frozen, arms across his chest, mouth slightly parted, eyes lost somewhere faraway. Severus held that pose for so long, Harry started to worry a bit. 

He edged forward, a step or two closer, and Severus sprung into life. First sending a glare Harry’s way, and then circling around to the back of one of his wingback chairs, he looked at Harry with a considering, thoughtful light in his eyes.

“Are you even gay, Potter?”

“If you call me Potter again, after all of that, I’m going to hex your hair purple. And, I don’t know. I think I might be bi. I’m pretty sure. It doesn’t really matter to me. It only matters that I know I like you. I know I’m attracted to you.” Harry’s eye shifted back and forth over Severus’ face. “What about you?”

Severus hesitated, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth. “Men. I prefer men.”

Harry’s lips tugged up on one side. “That’s lucky then. For me, I mean.”

“You are barely a man.”

“But I am. So, that’s all that matters.”

Severus exhaled through his nose. “That article highlighted perfectly why it matters a great deal that I am twenty years older than you, and your teacher, and your mother’s friend.”

“I don’t care about any of that though, and what you and I think should be all that matters.”

Severus blinked, twice. 

“You are barely my teacher any way. I only came back to Hogwarts because you were here.”

Severus brow gathered. 

“I didn’t realize it at the time, I don’t think. It was on the pro side of my list, but in retrospect, it was the whole list. The rest of the reasons were bollocks. And the school year is almost done, and like I said, I can wait.”

“I-I’ve talked myself quite thoroughly out of…this over the last few months. I knew you maybe wanted—but I didn’t expect you to act on it. Which was foolhardy of me. Maybe I knew you would, wanted you to even, and was simply lying to myself.” Severus sighed. “Deep down I am truly a selfish, wretched person.” He held up a hand when Harry made to contradict him. “I need time, Harry, to process this. I don’t want—I want to do this with as much grace and thought as possible. If you see this as something fiery, as an adventure, I will disappoint.”

“Grace and thought sounds nice. Perfect.”

Severus hummed and pulled his bottom lip between his front teeth. “Not boring?”

“We could never be entirely boring. No matter how much we wish to be.”

Severus chuckled, quiet and honest, and Harry’s heart lit up with it. 

“I’ll give you all the time, Severus, all of that you need.”

**********

“The school board has discussed removing you from Professor Snape’s class. I told them that though that article may have some merit, I had seen nothing to indicate the return of your…affections.” McGonagall held up a hand. “And, please Harry, do not tell me a single thing that would force my to retract that statement.”

Harry had absolutely not intended to. 

“Rumor and speculation is all the Prophet has and I will not give credence to it by removing you from the class and stifling your education.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“But I must ask you, and I will do the same of Severus, to please be cautious. I am not blind, nor am I naive, and this is also not the first time you and I have had this conversation. And, so you are aware, this will also not be the first time I’ve discussed this with Severus.”

Harry would give up his rights to the Black estate to have been a fly on the wall for those conversations. Harry glanced up at the portraits hung around the room and wondered what Hermione’d done with her portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, and whether she’d let him borrow it for a bit.

“I’ve not been great at hiding the fact that I fancy him a bit, but S—Professor Snape has asked me to stay away from him, give him space, and I will respect that.”

McGonagall sighed and some of the tension left her shoulders. “Good. Good.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Not on purpose.”

McGonagall nodded. 

Harry meant it. He did not want to do anything that could jeopardize Severus’ freedom. He did not give a toss about Severus’ reputation, or his own really, but if it mattered to him then it mattered to Harry. It would be hard, Harry knew, to stay away from Severus for the next few months. To only see the man in class or during meals in the Great Hall. But it would be worth it if Harry could pursue Severus honestly and openly this summer. 

And he fully planned to.

**********

Harrys plan was immediately put to the test when he showed up for his next Auror mission. 

He’d forgotten that Severus was part of the team’s mission now, and he’d forgotten Severus’ vow to be at Harry’s side for these missions from here on out.

Harry grinned at Severus in his matching red Auror robes, equally as unadorned as Harry’s. Severus had his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth held a pouty downturned curve.

“Having a sulk, Severus?”

“Shut up, Potter.”

Harry chuckled and turned away. A lot of the team were watching them, some out of the sides of their eyes, but some unabashedly staring right at them. Harry cleared his throat and pressed away any emotion from his lips.

Severus rolled his shoulders and picked at his sleeves, seemingly oblivious to the focus of everyone else’s gaze. “Red is the least subtle color. The enemy sees you coming from miles away.”

A solid point, actually. “It’s the uniform though.”

“I am aware.” Severus swept his hands down the robes in a no-shit-Sherlock gesture.

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. He leaned over and whispered, “You look very nice.”

Severus’ nose wrinkled. He looked around and must have realized they had a captive audience because his expression smoothed out and his spine straightened. He tucked his chin and whispered back, “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“I think I should, and I want to. So, I will.”

“How very Pott—Harry of you.”

A grin split Harry’s face. “How very nice of you to say, Severus.”

“Eyes forward, Aurors!” Robards called out as he entered the room. Those gathered pulled to attention and faced the front of the room. “Tonight we head back out into the field. You’ve been prepped about our new recon site.” He gestured to the board behind him. “High alert. So, we’ll be going in pairs. Or in the case of our lovebirds,” he looked at Harry, Severus, and Hallewell, “threes.”

Harry pressed his lips together. His eyelids flickered with the effort it took to not glance in Severus’ direction, but he snuck a quick peek at Hallewell. Even though others in the room had snickered at Robards’ comment, Hallewell’s brow had only furrowed slightly. His expression, for the most part, had remained stoic and focused.

“Alright, you lot, move it.”

The Aurors shuffled into action, turning towards the door and making for the MLE Apparation Platform down the hall. The platform was large enough for about a dozen Aurors to leave at the same time. There was a map with coordinate markers all over it, to help guide them wherever they needed to go even if they’d never been there before. Team A (Harry, Severus, and Hallewell’s) was staying in  London tonight, only apparating over to Regent’s Park. 

They stepped onto the platform together, facing the map. Hallewell pointed to a wooded area north of the lake. “Right there, yeah?”

Harry nodded, glanced at Snape, and disapparated. Harry landed in the park with only a small stumble to the left. The grass was higher than he’d expected it to be, and he’d landed in a copse of trees right on the lake. He stomped and shuffled his way to flatter ground as he heard the small pop and crack of Severus and Hallewell’s arrival.

Today’s work was a bit different from Angelsey, though it was essential the same idea. Quincy and Morrant were still part of their team, and so were Robards and a handful of others. They were all together here in Regent’s, but now the pairings wouldn’t break apart and search for magical hotspots alone. Instead, they would stay close together. They were less like sitting ducks this way, Harry supposed. Or a single sitting duck. They were a flock of ducks. Harry rolled his eyes at his own sloppy metaphor.

His fingers tightened around his wand as he lifted it into a defensive position. Severus lined up next to Harry, very nearly pressing against him, shoulder to shoulder. He was close enough that Severus’ body heat warmed Harry’s left side. Harry shifted one foot, just a bit, until his robes tangled with Severus’. Severus faced forward, but his eyes slid down to glance at Harry, quickly, before looking back up. 

“How could a group of Death Eaters hide themselves in a well-trafficked public park like this?” Harry asked as they all stepped forward and started in on the spell-casting and detecting. 

“How could an entire train platform exist in one of the busiest tube stations in London?” Severus said. “Magic, Potter.”

“Muggles don’t see what they don’t want to see,” Hallewell added.

Severus hummed his agreement.

Things moved faster with Harry doing half of the spellwork, Hallewell doing the other half, and Severus keeping a watchful eye. They covered less ground at once, but they also had less ground to cover at Regent’s compared to Anglesey. 

Severus pulled something small and black out from a pocket of his robes. He waved his wand over it and it grew in size. It, in fact, grew into a black cloak. Harry and Hallewell paused and watched him draw it on over his red Auror robes. 

Harry scoffed. 

Severus didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s cold.”

“It’s a bit chilly, I suppose,” Harry said, the side of his mouth pulling into a grin. “You really hate red.”

“No, I just like my own clothes.”

“Okay.” Harry smiled and turned back to his work. “You look nice in red.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“I know what I am buying you next Christmas.”

“How thoughtful of you to consider my kindling needs in the cold winter months.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and glanced at Hallewell. He appeared to be doing his best to ignore them, though he looked more indifferent than annoyed.

They walked closer to the lake, back into the trees that lined its shores. Water lapped at the edge and he could hear the sounds of ducks chattering. The air smelled of grass and wood. The lights of London sparkled a short ways off, but the city didn’t press in or overwhelm. 

“It’s nice here, this park. I should come here, once I’m back in London this summer.”

“My wife and I like to come here. They have this garden area over that way.” Hallewell gestured southward with the hand not casting. “She likes the lavender.”

Harry looked at Severus with a smile. “That sounds nice.”

Severus’ lips pinched together and he turned his face away from Harry. 

Hallewell cleared his throat and waved his wand. “Are you two really…you know…”

“No,” Harry said at the same time Severus spit out, “Of course not.”

Hallewell was quiet for a moment and then said, simply, “Alright then.”

They moved forward through the trees. Another few steps and they would be out the other side. Harry could see the wide expanse of an open field, walking paths, and park benches just beyond. Harry opened his mouth to say something about the area being good for Quidditch, if it weren’t for all the Muggles, obviously, but he never got the chance. 

Behind them, four cracks broke the air. Harry, Severus, and Hallewell spun around to face them. Hallewell raised his wand and sent red sparks soaring high above them. 

The Death Eaters obviously had a plan though. They moved smoothly into formation around the three of them and pressed in. Anders’ blue eyes twinkled even in the low light as he smiled at Harry with his teeth. Harry didn’t recognize the other three, though they looked familiar in a passing way. 

“Guard Potter!” Severus called out as he used his body to shield Harry. Hallewell turned his body and Harry found himself encases by the two men. 

Harry huffed and pushed at their shoulders and elbows, trying to get out and help.

“Come on,” Anders stepped forward, smirking. “Let Potter out. He wants to fight for himself.”

“What the fuck do you want, Anders?” Severus said, shoving Harry back behind him and holding him there with a hand on Harry’s hip.

“I wanted to see you, of course.”

Severus hand twitched and tightened.

“You remember me?”

Severus didn’t respond for a beat, and when he did, he drew out the last syllable. “Yes.”

“Good.” Anders said and dove forward. 

Everything happened very fast from there. The rest of the Auror team apparated in around them. Severus flew forward to block Anders and called out to Hallewell to take Harry. Hallewell wrapped one arm around Harry’s shoulders as he fought off a Death Eater with his other. Harry struggled to lift his own wand to help.

Hallewell shouted, “We’re apparating out!” 

Harry ducked and squirmed and jerked free of his hold. He dashed in Severus’ direction as Hallewell grasped for him and stumbled. 

Harry’s eyes found Severus, his cloak billowing and his wand at the ready, but Anders didn’t seem interested. At least, he didn’t have his own wand pointed at Severus. Instead of going on the defense, he grabbed Severus by both shoulders, met Harry’s eyes, and grinned. Harry blinked and the two disappeared. 

Then, the rest of the Death Eaters disappeared too. It was just the Aurors standing in the grove of trees, staring at one another with their wands raised.

Harry’s breath heaved in and out of him. He stared at the vast empty spot where Severus had been standing only seconds ago. 

Severus was gone. 

Gone.

Chapter Text

The world went still around him. 

Harry stared at the empty air that had once held Severus. 

Severus had stood there, right there, fighting, grappling with Anders, and then he was gone.

Vanished. Disappeared. 

Hallewell’s arm fell away from where it’d wrapped itself protectively around Harry’s shoulders. Harry rocked forward one step, then another, until he stood where Severus had been. 

Where he’d been until Anders stole him.

Harry lifted his head, searching the crowds around him. Nothing but red-robed Aurors looked back. They were all that remained in this nondescript bit of Regent’s Park, such an innocuous spot for something that had Harry’s limbs shaking, his heart skipping, his fingers curling into fists.  

The Death Eaters. They’d all left. 

Harry blinked, blinked again. His breathing stuttered as he turned this way and that. “Where are they? Where’d they all go?”

“Gone, Potter,” Robards said.

“I don’t understand.” Harry’s mouth hung open. “Nobody stopped a single one of them?”

Robards mouth pulled to one side in a sneer. His gaze fell behind Harry and he said, “Hallewell, get Potter back to HQ.” Robards moved away from Harry, shouting, “Spread out and search!”

“I’m not leaving,” Harry called after him, but Robards didn’t stop, kept marching away as though he hadn’t heard Harry. 

Hadn’t heard him or didn’t care. 

Harry’s jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a line. If he was going to be here, working as an Auror, he was going to actually do something.

Hallewell approached him, but Harry stalked away. He jogged after a group of Aurors heading north, intending to join them in their search of the park. 

Their wands were lit and sweeping the fields, peering into the shadows of trees and brush. All attempts at conspicuousness had gone out the window. Logically, Harry knew that Severus could be on the other side of the world by now. That the odds of him still being here in the park were slim to nil. But the thought of returning to some small room at the Ministry, to Hogwarts, of sitting somewhere and waiting for someone else to find Severus was unimaginable, terrifying. His hands went clammy and his gut knotted just thinking of it.

Hallewell caught up with Harry. They stared at one another. Harry hard and tight-lipped. Hallewell calm and unreadable. Then they both turned and searched for Severus. 

**********

Nothing. 

They had turned up nothing in Regent’s Park. 

Not a single witch or wizard. Not a glimmer of residual magic. 

The Death Eaters had been and gone and left not a trace behind. 

The Aurors had returned to the Ministry with nothing, with less than what they’d started with. 

Robards had raged and ranted and stared at his maps and notes, pulling at his hair and pointing fingers. Then, he’d called in the Order. Shacklebolt arrived first. Then McGonagall.  Slowly, more and more members trickled in to help. Harry’d watched them all come through the door in a hazy, detached, blurred sort of way. Hermione, Ginny, Luna. Neville and Dean. The Weasleys. Pomfrey and Flitwick and Hooch. Hagrid and dozens of others he didn’t recognize at all. They’d all come to find Severus. 

What would Severus think of that?

Harry didn’t have the energy to give it any real thought. 

All he could think about was Severus. Taken. Lost. Gone. 

About how he’d failed him. 

Harry had failed Severus. 

Severus had kept Harry safe for years and years and years. 

Harry couldn’t even protect him for one. 

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, blacking out everything around him. He wished he could block out this room, the world, his thoughts. He wished he could focus down on just Severus, on only Severus. On sensing his magic out there somewhere, on finding him alive and whole.

The Death Eaters would kill him. Harry knew they would. They’d hurt him. Visions of Severus screaming, twisting against the pain. Of blood, warm and tacky against his skin. Severus crying out. Dying. 

Harry’s pulse thudded against his temples and echoed in his ears. His heart clenched and his veins turned cold, like ice thrummed under his skin. The need to touch Severus, to feel his warmth and life, it overwhelmed Harry. It had Harry’s fingers trembling and curling where he had his arms hugged against his ribs. 

“Snape could be telling them anything, right at this very moment. He could be filling their ears with Order passwords, MLE tactics.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He turned a fiery glare on the speaker—Robards.

Of fucking course, it was Robards. The absolute git.

Harry’s nostrils flared and his molars crashed together as his jaw tightened. He wanted to smash the guy’s bloody face in. Harry stomped forward and said, voice raised and finger pointing, “I know you did not just fucking say that.”

Hermione and Ron came out of the woodwork and grabbed for Harry. McGonagall stood and placed herself between Harry and Robards. Harry slapped and pushed away their grasping hands. Only to be brought up short by Kingsley’s much more substantial form. Harry jerked back from the Minister’s raised palms and craned his neck until he had Robards in his line of sight again. 

“Severus would never—”

“Potter,” Robards interrupted, already shaking his head. “I know you think you know that man, but you do not. None of us do. Snape and Dumbledore ensured we did not.”

“You think after everything he’s been through he would spill Order secrets to the enemy?”

“You are counting on Snape viewing them as the enemy.”

“Of course he views them as the enemy.”

Robards tilted his head and shrugged, palms raised. “We have to consider that this was all a long set up.” He glanced at Kingsley. “Snape wheedled his way onto the Auror team, fed us bollocks information—”

“He almost died last week for that information.”

“You don’t find the number of times the Death Eaters could have snatched you, but didn’t, a bit odd, Potter. Yet, as soon as Anders gets his hands on Snape, Snape, he disappears off with him.”

There was murmuring around the room.

Harry shook his head. “Voldemort had Severus’ throat ripped out at the final battle. Why would he go back to that lot now?”

“Voldemort was a figurehead of a much larger movement, Potter. Something you don’t seem to understand. You killed the head, not the body. A body that Snape was very much a part of. So much a part of that he had it imprinted on his skin, boy. You think he turned away from that so easily?”

“Yes.” Simple as that. Harry didn’t need to give it another thought. 

Robards tapped his temple. “You’re delusional.”

“Oi,” Ron said and took a step forward.

McGonagall spoke up, “Wholly uncalled for, Gawain.”

Kingsley held his hands up between them. “Stop it both of you. This is neither helpful nor productive.” He lifted his voice to the room at large, to Aurors and Order members alike. “We are all of us a team, everyone in this room. We are all in this together, with one goal. Can we agree on that?”

Robards sniffed and scuffed a hand across his nose. He said, sounding angry and not a bit contrite, “Yes, Minister,”

Harry licked his lips and nodded, once, sharply.

“Alright.” Kingsley lowered his hands. “One of our own, our own,” he emphasized with a hard look and jabbed finger at Robards, “has been taken and we need to get him back. That is out focus right now. So, where do we begin?”

Robards sucked at his teeth. He brought his hands up to rest on his hips. He had an annoyed tilt to his mouth as he admitted, “The MLE has thus far been unable to locate any Death Eater strongholds.”

“Severus could be anywhere then,” McGonagall said.

“You truly have no idea?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry realized that practically every member of the Weasley family was present. Mrs. Weasley stood beside her husband, concern writ across her face. Bill, George, and Gin surrounded her. Harry and Gin locked eyes, briefly, before Gin looked down at her feet.

Harry considered blaming her for this, because of the article, because she hadn’t kept her mouth shut. He wanted to take his fear and frustration out on her. It would be easy. But, Harry took note of Neville Longbottom’s arm draped across her shoulders and he decided he couldn’t be bothered.

“We have some ideas.” Robards pulled Harry’s attention back. He shook his head. “They’re not strong leads.”

Harry lifted his chin and pushed his shoulders back. “Give the leads to me. I will go to each and every one myself.”

Robards scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You will not be doing this yourself,” McGonagall said.

“No,” Mrs. Weasley added. “You absolutely won’t. We’ll all help.”

Harry swept his eyes over the room. People nodded, some half-heartedly, but more (certainly more than Harry’d expected) seemed primed and ready for a fight. 

“I’m tired of standing around. We should have already left.”

“Left and gone where, Potter?”

“Well, he sure as fuck isn’t here, is he?”

“Harry.” McGonagall sighed. “Is the language entirely necessary?”

Harry sent a baleful look her way before turning back to Robards. “Give me your strongest lead and I will go now.”

Robards lip curled. “Is this how you plan to conduct yourself as one of my Aurors, boy?”

“I don’t plan to conduct myself any kind of way. I will never work for you.”

The curl of his lips grew and revealed sharp canines. “I bloody well knew it. One-Hit Wonder Boy, swooping in at the end to steal the glory from those fighting day after day. That’s the real Potter right there.”

“Oh, very clever.” Harry took a step forward. “Practice that in front of a mirror, did you?”

Hermione’s fingers circled his biceps, clutching, and pulled him back. 

McGonagall straightened to her full height and with a firm slash of her hand, stated, “Stop this right now.” She eyed Robards and Harry in turn. Her gaze held on Harry and she continued, “Is this helping Severus? Will this bickering get him home faster?”

Harry pushed his fingers under his glasses and scrubbed at his face. 

He kept failing and failing and failing Severus. 

“Fine.” Harry let his glasses fall back into place as he threw his arms up. “Fine.” 

Harry turned away from everyone and circled to the back of the room. He ignored the eyes of the Aurors and Order members that followed him and sat in the last chair of the end row. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his palms. 

He was a moron. Sat there in the ridiculous red Auror robes, not doing a damn bit of good. Harry didn’t have the first clue where to look for Severus. He’d paid barely a moment’s attention to this whole business. He’d not cared at all about Anders or the Death Eaters still out there. He was so tired of it all. He’d only wanted to live his life, to go to school, woo Severus. 

Hadn’t he earned the right to take a bloody breath? Just for one year?

Harry tipped himself back in the chair and looked around. The lead members of the Auror teams were up at the maps, pinned files, and photos with Robards and the senior Order members. The rest of the team had dispersed into smaller groups around the room to chat. Harry gritted his teeth as he watched some people have the audacity to leave. He could not believe people could be so callous, wandering off to grab a coffee or a bite to eat, while Severus was out there somewhere suffering. 

Hermione and Ron approached and stood off to the side next to him. He glanced up at them, saw the pitying look on their faces, and darted his eyes away. He pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. 

His voice cracked as he said, “I can’t do anything. I feel so helpless.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione fell to her knees and took his hands in hers. “You don’t have to be the hero every time.”

Harry scoffed. 

Ron knelt down and quietly added, “And you aren’t alone. Look at all these people here to help. We’ll get him back.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Alive?”

Hermione squeezed his hands. “We are not giving up, Harry. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “And Snape’s a strong bastard. Look what he’s already lived through?”

Harry swallowed. “He’s only human, Ron.”

“So are you, and you always manage.”

Harry huffed out a laugh.

“And that whole business about you not wanting to be an Auror,” Ron continued, “that’s alright too, you know?”

Hermione nodded.

“I can’t think about that right now.” Harry had no idea where it had even come from, but he’d meant it. He could never work under Robards, or even Kingsley. 

It had nothing to do with arrogance or ego. 

He was just tired of figuring people out, of playing their games. 

He wanted something simple and straightforward. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be an Auror. 

He didn’t want to deal with the politics involved with being an Auror.

Ron pushed to his feet and then sat down in the empty chair next to Harry. “My point is only that of all the people most likely to save themselves, you and Snape are at the top of the list. Snape’ll insult them until they cry a river, then he’ll escape in a boat he conjured without a wand, paddling his way through their tears.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled and he snorted a laugh.

“Ron, that’s ridiculous,” Hermione said, but a smile tugged at her lips. 

“Made the both of you crack a smile though.”

“You’re terrible.”

Ron bent across Harry to nuzzle Hermione’s cheek and kiss her lips. “You love me.”

“Ugh.” Harry’s nose wrinkled for an entirely different reason. “Stop that.”

Hermione stood up and moved over to Ron’s lap. Harry sighed. He unbuttoned his Auror robes and wished Severus were here. Not that Severus would ever allow Harry to sit on his lap in public. 

Not that Harry wanted to. 

He’d rather do that in private. 

Along with some other choice things.

“Harry.”

Harry suppressed a groan. 

Ron did not, and he added, “Merlin, Neville, not now, alright?”

Harry didn’t look up at where the man hovered over him. He pulled his arms from the sleeves of the red robes, twisted and shifted his way out of them, then tossed them over the chair in front of him. 

Neville went ahead anyway. “I only wanted to talk with you.”

Harry laughed, small and breathy. “Look, Neville, mate, I really, really don’t care right now. You’re upset about Gin and me or wha—”

“No. I mean, yes. But, I don’t want to talk about Gin. I want to talk about you and me. I want us to be alright again.” 

Harry pressed his lips together and stood up. Neville’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and Harry met his eyes. His face was pale, but the tips of his ears reddened. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides. 

“Alright again…”Harry echoed back to him, slowly, brow furrowing and head shaking. He ran his tongue across his top lip. “What exactly does that mean? What would that even look like?”

Neville sighed, a breath of air bursting from his nose. “We got along fine before. More than fine, I think.”

“You’re right.” Harry’s eyebrows arched up to his hairline. “I never had an issue with you. At all.”

“What happened between Gin and me—”

Harry held up a hand and glanced around. Four Order members watched them out of the sides of their eyes. Harry had no desire to add to any gossip going around about his romantic life; he hated it almost as much as the idea that he had a public romantic life. He stepped further away and Neville followed. They tucked themselves into an out of the way corner of the room. 

“I don’t care about you and Gin,” Harry said, quietly but emphatically. “Right now, all I care about is finding Severus. If you want to bloody well marry Gin and make a thousand little red-headed babies, go right ahead. I’m not bothered. Just don’t act like you are the wronged party here, mate.”

Neville scrubbed fingers across his mouth. “You didn’t treat—”

“Stop right there. I don’t know what she told you, but it’s bollocks. She was unhappy and I was unhappy, but I never set out to hurt her or harass her. I tried with her, I did, but the ring was the last straw. I mean, Christ, she gave me a tracking charm disguised as a bit of jewelry for my birthday.”

Neville’s forehead wrinkled. “A tracking charm?”

“Yeah, she hid it in a ring…”

The ring.

“Oh my god.”

The ring.

“Severus took the ring.” Harry gripped Neville’s shoulders in both hands. His face split into a wide grin and he laughed, with only a hint of hysteria. “He stuck it in his cloak pocket.”

Neville looked at Harry like he’d lost it. “What are you talking about?”

Harry spun away from him. “Ginny!”

He searched the room. She’d been there only a second ago. Harry’s eyes darted from face to face, from redhead to redhead, until he finally spotted her. She must have heard his shouts because she was already making her way over to him. Ron and Hermione hurried over and they dashed forward to meet Gin halfway.

Harry locked eyes with her. “The ring. Can you still sense it? Is the charm still connected to you?”

She glanced down at his hands. 

Harry lifted them, only now noticing that they were trembling. “It’s Severus. After you and I fought, I told him the ring was charmed, and he went and found it. I watched him put it in his cloak pocket. If he still has it… Ginny, is it working?”

“Um.” Her brow creased and her nostrils flared. Her eyes tracked over Harry’s face and then over his shoulder to look at Neville. “I don’t know. Let me try.”

Neville wrapped a hand around Harry’s upper arm. “What ring?”

“Not now, Neville, alright,” Ron said, buzzing and eager. 

“Yes.” Ginny nodded “Yes, it’s still working. I can feel it.”

Harry’s heart slammed double time into his sternum and he wrenched himself free of Neville’s grip. “Where is he?”

She shook her head. “Wherever he is, I haven’t been there before. The charm works better if I’ve been to where it is.” She pressed her lips together. “It helps if I look at a map.”

“Well, lucky us.” Harry took her hand and dragged her over to Robards’ maps, pushing through Aurors and Order members. He pulled her to a stop in front of the vast, pin-bedecked spread of Great Britain. “Look at it, Gin. Where is Severus?”

Her brow furrowed as she scanned it.

“What is this?” Robards demanded. “What’s happening right now?”

“Yes, why would Miss Weasley know where Severus is?” McGonagall saddled up beside them, her gaze following Gin’s to the map. 

Ginny tucked a sheet of red hair behind an ear and pulled her lip between her teeth again. “Here.” She pointed. “Near Canterbury.”

“No. Not a single lead from that area,” Robards said. “No known Death Eater activity out that way during this war.”

Harry asked, “What about during the last one?”

“Yes,” a new voice piped in.

Harry jerked around until he faced the person it had come from. It was an older woman with mousy hair laced with streaks of grey. She was small, short really, but strong looking.

“During the last war. The Provans lived out in Canterbury,” she continued. “They’re all gone now. The ones that didn’t die fighting, died in Azkaban. But that’s where they where before, if I remember correctly.”

McGonagall, smiling slightly, nodded and said, “I think you do.”

“This is it then,” Harry said, smiling. “That’s where they have Severus.”

“Stop, stop.” Robards rubbed vigorously at his stubbled jaw. “How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Harry raked his fingers through his hair. They did not have time for this. “Gin put a tracking charm on a bit of jewelry and then gave it to me. After we broke up, Severus,” Harry paused, trying to catch his breath and stop the words tumbling from his mouth in a jumble, “Severus took the ring to check out the magic she’d used, as a favor. I watched Severus put the ring in his cloak. He was wearing that cloak tonight when he was taken.”

The room was very quiet. 

“A tracking charm.” Kingsley broke the silence.

“It’s a trap,” Robards said. “A juvenile charm like that…they’d have sensed it on Snape.”

Harry shook his head. “Severus said the magic was good, that she’d done the thing properly. He’d seen the ring a hundred times and hadn’t noticed the charm.”

“What about distortion from wards?” Bill added. “Surely they have him somewhere warded.”

“It worked even through the Hogwarts wards.” Ginny pressed her lips into a tight line. “I knew over the summer when Harry was there, even from the Burrow.”

Mrs. Weasley clicked her tongue, quietly. “Oh, Ginevra.”

Gin turned the color of a ripe tomato. 

“This is it then.” McGonagall nodded.

“And we have the element of surprise.” Kingsley grinned. “How precise can you be, Miss Weasley?”

Gin gnawed on her lower lip and lifted her hand to the map. She pressed the tip of her finger to a spot just south of Canterbury. She glanced at Harry and sighed. “I can tell down to the exact room.”

The violation of it curdled in Harry’s stomach. He hated her fiercely in this moment, but if this saved Severus…

Kingsley clapped his hands together. “Let’s rally the troops and make a plan, then.”

**********

Landing in Canterbury all at once, the Order members and the teams of Aurors formed a great circle of people around the old Provan house. Well-lit by the full moon, it looked like any other old country manor. Red-bricked, three stories high. Surrounded by rolling hills and overgrown fields of winter-browned grass. The windows shone with the flickering, yellow light of candles: a dead giveaway for occupation by wizards. 

The electric spark of ward magic danced over Harry’s skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He’d not encountered wards this strong since the Battle of Hogwarts. The wards hugged tight to the property, encasing it much like Hogwarts’ had done. The same ones Voldemort had ripped through like they were nothing but paper. Harry hoped they would have the same sort of luck with these.

Bill Weasley, Kingsley, Robards, and an Auror Harry didn’t know stepped forward to inspect them. They craned their necks and crossed their arms over their chests. Harry inhaled a deep breath and then blew it out, glancing around at all of the other anxious faces. Sweat gathered at the small of his back, making his shirt stick to him. It beaded across his brow and prickled under his arms. His pulse ratcheted up higher and higher, making his veins jump and flutter under his skin. 

Harry searched out Ginny in the crowd. He found her not so far off, standing stoically between Neville and Flitwick. He pulled her aside, closer to the glittering barrier of the wards, and asked “Where in the house is he? Can you tell?”

Ginny’s eyes unfocused and her brow gathered. “The top floor, towards the front of the house.” She looked up and pointed to a window, the one window darkened by curtains. “That room there, that’s where the ring is.”

The wards lit up around them as Bill and a handful of Aurors did some intricate wand work further down the circle. 

Shadows appeared in the windows of the house. 

“Surprise lost, I guess,” Ron said from behind Harry. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Hermione and Neville standing there as well. 

The front door swung open and bathed the front path in light. A dozen or so witches and wizards exited, leaving only two shadows still standing at the windows, both up on the top floor. A couple of the faces walking towards them looked familiar. A few cowards had on the shiny silver Death Eater masks. Anders was at the forefront, dressed pristinely in a well-cut suit and dark purple robes. 

Harry’s fist tightened around his wand. He just barely held back from charging forward, from plowing through the wards. The layer of magic in front of him rippled as he swayed towards them. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, and the wards stilled. 

Anders spoke first in a lofty voice. “Minister Shacklebolt. Head Auror Robards. I apologize for not coming out to greet you upon arrival.”

“Quite alright,” Kingsley called back, a tight grin on his face. “After all, I know you were not expecting us.”

“Yes, very rude of you to drop by uninvited. But you did announce yourselves sufficiently once you got here. So, I can find it in my heart to forgive.” He ruddy well smirked. “Didn’t expect these wards though, did you?”

They had expected wards. Wards had been part of the planning. The MLE touted having the best Wards Team in Europe.

So, of course, they had thought to be through them by now.  

Any longer and they’d risked the Death Eaters running. 

But they didn’t look like they were preparing to run. They looked like they were gloating. 

“Something’s not right.” Harry stared at the window to the room where they were keeping Severus, but couldn’t make out any movement. No flickering of light, no shadows dancing on the walls. 

Hermione asked, “What do you mean?”

“Obvious isn’t it?” All heads turned to Ron. “These aren’t normal wards.”

There was a shriek and one of the Aurors working the wards flew back. Pomfrey and McGonagall rushed to his side as the Death Eaters chuckled. 

“They don’t think we can cross them,” Ron continued. “Or they’d’ve been long gone by now.”

“They can’t be impenetrable.” Harry lifted his palm parallel to the wards. Not touching them, but close enough he could feel the whisper of magic licking his skin. The wards dipped away from him and stretched thin as he pushed forward. Ron brought his hand up beside Harry’s. The wards snapped back out. Lightning streaked out from where Ron’s hand hovered. It raced away in every direction, crackling and drawing the attention of the Death Eaters. 

Harry arched an eyebrow and shared a look with Ron. 

Anders and his comrades ambled towards Harry. 

From out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw another Auror flung backwards as the wards lit up like fireworks. Robards shouted something and their was a flurry of movement. Anders didn’t seem too fussed as he smiled and greeted Harry. 

“Hello, Harry.”

“Anders.” Now that Harry got a good look at him and his cohorts, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face or the snort that left his nose. “Someone did a number on you lot, yeah?”

Ron joined in with, “Snape not the damsel in distress you were hoping for?”

Anders and the Death Eaters behind him were bruised, bloody, and looking distinctly worse for wear. A cut beneath Anders right eye welled with fresh blood and the skin around it was puffy and swollen. A purple-blue bruise ran the length of his jawline and another marred his temple. His robe was torn at the shoulder. Actually all of their robes were singed and torn in spots. One of his cohorts was missing an eyebrow. While another had a large bald spot on the side of her head. A blond wizard had bruises that looked suspiciously like fingers wrapped around his neck.

Anders sneered. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads about us. We’ve got him nice and docile now. Quiet as a kitten.”

Harry’s vision went grey and fuzzy around the edges as images of rending Anders limb from useless bloody limb rose to the forefront of his mind. “I’m going to kill you, you know.”

“Of course you are, Potter.” Anders smiled, white canines clenching and blue eyes glittering. “But not today, and not before we give the traitor his due.”

Anders turned to leave and Harry stepped forward. The wards rippled again as he approached. 

He heard Hermione gasp, saw her dash over to Ginny.

Harry shifted his gaze to Anders’ retreating back and called out, “Is that what this was about? Getting to Snape?”

Anders looked over his shoulder at Harry. “You didn’t think this was about you, did you?” He pouted out a bottom lip. “Aw. Poor, little Potter.”

“Then why didn’t your lot grab him when you poisoned him?”

Anders turned back around, his brow furrowed. “Poisoned him?” He shook his head. “We never poisoned him, boy.”

Ginny made a keening noise. Anders and Harry’s eyes swung to her. 

Hermione whispered fiercely into her ear as Ginny fisted her hands and screwed her face up into worried little wrinkles. Ginny nodded, pulled air into her lungs, and squared her shoulders. 

She thrust her fist forward and her mouth popped open on a gasp.

Her hand had slid through the wards like butter. 

Anders eyebrows slammed together over his eyes and he muttered, “What the…”

Hermione jumped into the air and pumped her fists, chanting, “I knew it, I knew it.” She dashed off towards Robards, Bill, Kingsley, and the Wards Team, tugging a shocked Ginny behind her.

Harry met Anders’ eyes through the glossy sheen of the wards. “Bit scared now?”

Anders eyes narrowed. Three of the Death Eaters behind him disapparated and he spun around just in time to catch two more disappearing after them. 

Ron said, “Now that looks a bit familiar.”

Harry lifted his hand to the wards again, watched the magic bend away from him, and pressed onward. His hand broke through, not as easily as Gin’s had, but the magic gave and parted like cobwebs beneath his fingers. Harry locked eyes with Anders and grinned. 

Another Death Eater disapparated, and then another, and Anders ran towards the house with the few (very few) comrades he had left to him. 

Harry flung himself through the wards. They caught and tugged at him. He stumbled a bit, but didn’t fall. 

The magic surrounding the house cracked and sparked, but it was no longer Harry’s concern. 

He raced after Anders, casting hex after hex at the man as they sprinted down the gravel path and up the front stairs. A tripping jinx found its mark on the man’s shoulder and Anders careened into the front door. He stumbled his way inside and up the first few steps of a wide staircase in the entryway, Harry hot on his heels. 

Harry focused on staying on his feet as they climbed to the top floor, taking them two, three, four steps at a time. Anders had longer legs, and Harry just couldn’t catch up no matter how hard he pushed. 

“Grab Snape and apparate!” Anders shouted, likely to one of the shadows Harry’d seen in the windows, but Anders luck had run out. The corridor on the top floor was empty and his shout echoed off the ceiling, the walls, and only hit Harry’s ears.

Harry cast, “Stupefy!”

It was hard to aim and sprint though, and the spell hit the floor at Anders heels, bounced up, and hit his calf. Anders fell through a doorway at the end of the hall, his wand clattering out of his hand and disappearing into the room. Harry skidded and slipped to stop himself from tumbling over Anders’ prone form. 

A garbled shout snapped Harry’s attention into the room. 

“Snape!”

Severus was splayed against the wall across from the doorway. Arms and legs spread wide and pinned to the wallpaper.

Ropes of metal chains criss-crossed his body. Red lines of magic had been woven through and over the links. They both pressed tight against his torn black robes, making them ruck up and twist away from his body. The exposed flesh of his neck, his forearms, and his belly bulged from between the twists of shiny metal and glowing spell light. 

Blood ran in a jagged line down one side of his face. His hair was disheveled and knotted. He was swollen and bruised and beaten. Something grey and dirty had been shoved into his mouth and then tied in place with a bit of cord. 

Harry dashed for Severus, anger burning and mixing with the rush of relief.

Anders caught his ankle and Harry fell forward. His wand disappeared off with Anders’ as he let it go to catch himself with his hands. Pain shot up his arms as he slammed into the ground with all his weight. 

His eyes met Severus’ just long enough to catch Severus rolling his in exasperation. 

Anders plowed into Harry’s side, knocking him onto his back. He threw a leg over Harry and pinned him to the ground with his hips. He tried to get a few punches in, but Harry caught his wrists and they grappled, twisting and bucking and grunting on the floor.

Harry bent his knee outward and pushed awkwardly at Anders with his heel, scraping and shoving until he gained enough leverage to get out from under the man. Harry slithered left and Anders kneed him in the kidney. Harry kicked him in the shin and grabbed his face. 

Anders’ hands came around Harry’s throat and tightened, choking him. Harry coughed against the crushing force constricting his windpipe. He jerked away, but Anders was only pulled along with Harry. Harry’s lungs burned and the edges of his vision went grey and fuzzy. 

He twisted his back, trying to escape the staggering pressure, and caught sight of Severus. 

Severus’ eyes were wide and wild as he watched Harry. He thrashed and jerked against the magic binding him. 

Harry’s head hurt, his vision pulsed and went red. 

Severus was about to watch Harry die. 

Helpless and bruised, skin gone blue, staring up with vacant eyes. 

Laid out on the floor of this old, defunct house. 

Harry remembered Severus in a pool of tacky, cooling blood. Eyes going dark and glassy. 

Harry’d watched Severus die there on the mouldering floor of the Shrieking Shack. 

Harry’s magic, bright and golden, sparked under his skin. He reached for it and pushed it out, letting it leak from him. It jarred Anders grip, but Harry couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. He grabbed at Anders’ face, limply. He dug his fingernails into the flesh under his grip and scratched, raking them against Anders’ skin. Something wet and hot pooled against the pads of his fingers. 

Harry wiggled his hips back as far as he could away from Anders, primed his leg, and kicked the man full-force right in his bits with his heel. 

The hands fell away from Harry’s throat.

He rolled away and sucked in a lungful of air. Then another. And another.

Harry scrambled to his hands and knees as Anders folded in half, one hand covering his injured groin. 

Light flashed against the window and Harry caught a glimpse between a gap in the curtains of the warding falling away. 

Harry pushed his way to his feet and searched the floor for his wand.

Anders gave a high-pitched groan and rolled to his knees. He huffed out, “Fucking Potter,” and stumbled his way to his feet in front of Harry.  

Harry pulled back his arm and punched him squarely in the face. 

Anders reeled back, holding his nose. 

Harry punched him again and he fell to the floor in a clattering splay of limbs. He didn’t move. Harry returned the earlier kick in the kidney, his own side still throbbing and aching from where Anders had nailed him. 

Anders lay still, unmoving. 

Harry sniffed, coughed, and rubbed his throat. 

Severus mumbled behind his gag and Harry rushed over to him.

Harry took his face between his hands, ran his thumbs gently over bruised cheekbones. Severus’ eyelashes fluttered closed as he settled into Harry’s touch. Harry tipped their foreheads together and let their breathing sync. Harry swallowed, thick and painful, and pulled back. 

Harry unwound the rope holding the gag in place and pulled the cloth from Severus’ mouth. He used it to dab at the blood running close to Severus’ eyes, then at a rivulet coming from his nose and inching towards his now open mouth. He tossed it on the ground and nodded towards Anders. 

“Keep an eye on him while I look for my wand, yeah.” 

Severus wet his lips with his tongue and cleared his throat. “Under the chair. Your wand. That’s where it went.”

Harry nodded and jogged over to it. He moved the chair and scooped up his wand before turning back to Severus. “Let me free you, then we can kill him together.”

“The most marvelous plan you’ve ever proposed, Potter.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that because I’ve shared so few with you.”

“Doubtful.”

“Oi, I’ve had some real bangers over the years.”

The sound of voices and footsteps echoed up from downstairs. The others must have finally broken through the wards, using whatever trick Hermione had devised. 

“Sounds like the cavalry has arrived.”

“A bit too late,” Harry said and they both looked down at Anders’ unconscious body. 

Harry decided to start with Severus’ hands so the man could maybe help Harry and speed the whole process up. He reached for it and reeled back. It was covered in blood and hanging limply at an odd angle. 

“Oh Christ, Severus. What did they do to your hand?”

Harry was afraid to touch it, afraid he’d cause the man pain. 

Severus gazed at the hand with little emotion. He said, simply, “Fingernails.”

Harry craned his neck and saw, indeed, Severus was missing two fingernails from his right hand. His lips mashed together into a tight line.

Severus wiggled it at the wrist. “I believe my ring finger is broken. Possibly, the thumb is dislocated.”

Harry glanced at where the other hand was pinned against the wall. It too looked bloody and mangled. “We’ll kill him very slowly.”

Severus hummed and coughed. 

The footsteps drew closer and closer as Harry worked to undo the magic holding Severus. Soon enough, the room was filled with Order members and Aurors. Anders’ was whisked away to the MLE cells at the Ministry. It took five of them casting to get Severus unstuck and unchained. Harry caught him as he fell away from the wall, staggering under the weight of all twelve stones of him.

Harry didn’t care a lick. He would gladly catch Severus, hold him, carry him, every second of every day for the rest of his life. 

He clutched Severus against his body and didn’t bother sticking around another moment. He apparated the both of them back to Hogwarts. Pomfrey appeared beside them a half-second later. 

Severus limped his way forward two steps. Harry and Pomfrey tutted and stopped him. They each wrapped one of his arms over their shoulders and carried him between the two of them up to the infirmary. 

**********

Fingernails were easy to grow back. Bones could be healed. Bruises and cuts and scrapes were nothing to wizards like Severus Snape. Anders and the Death Eaters had only just begun the slow and monotonous torture they’d concocted for Severus. They’d planned to hold him there and pick him apart, piece by piece, chunk by chunk, until he was nothing but a bloody stump. 

It was vile. Hateful. 

Also hateful was the fact that Harry would be indebted to Ginny forever for that fucking ring. 

Not only had it led them to Severus, but it was the trick to the wards. 

The wards, it turned out, only worked for people whose magic had already crossed through them. A neat little charm, strong in its simplicity. The ring, imbued with Ginny’s magic and, to a lesser but still permissible extent, Harry’s, had crossed the barrier with Severus and given them an in. 

Once they’d had the key to the wards, they’d used Ginny’s magic to dissolve them. 

All the Death Eaters, save Anders, had made a run for it, like the cowards they were. 

After Harry and Pomfrey transported Severus back to Hogwarts, Harry had done his best to hold to his previous promise: to give Severus space, to not cause him any (further) trouble. 

Once he knew Severus would be alright, he returned to his dorm to brood. He wanted so badly to stay at Severus’ side, to put his hands on his skin, to feel the blood rush through his veins, to listen to his voice. 

He lay in his four poster bed and reminded himself that Severus was fine, Severus was safe, Severus was only a few floors away. Alive and whole. 

Harry dozed off and on throughout the night and into the morning, clutching the Marauder’s Map. He checked in on the little ‘Severus Snape’ dot each time he wakened. Especially once he’d seen that Severus had checked himself out of the infirmary already. 

Because of course he had. 

Severus paced around his quarters. He sat before his fire. He tucked himself away in bed and Harry watched him sleep, his own eyes drifting shut. 

Around lunch time, Severus left his quarters and headed for the Great Hall. Harry sprung from his bed and rushed to the toilet to freshen up a bit before heading down for a meal as well. 

At least in the Great Hall, he’d be able to catch a glimpse of Severus up at the staff table. 

He pulled on a clean jumper and fresh pants. His favorite ratty jeans would have to do. He shoved his feet into a pair of trainers and dashed from the dorms. He took the stairs two at a time, hoping he hadn’t missed Severus. He turned a corner on the third floor, raced down the final corridor towards the marble staircase into the entrance hall. 

An arm reached out from an open classroom door, hooked him around the waist, and snatched him inside. Harry’s wand dropped into his hand as he wrangled himself free and spun on his kidnapper. Only to find himself face-to-face with Severus. 

Harry exhaled and his shoulders dropped. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

Severus smirked and closed the door. 

“I was just coming down to see if you were still at lunch. How are you feeling?”

Severus kissed him by way of answering. His hands came up to cradle Harry’s jaw, his fingers warm and sure where they touched Harry’s stubbled skin. Harry lifted his arms and grabbed onto Severus robes. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, shifting his lips over Severus’. He walked Severus back and pressed him against the closed door. Severus went, easily, willingly, beautifully. 

Harry groaned and broke away. He kept his eyes shut and let his forehead rest on Severus’. 

“This is unexpected.”

Severus nodded against him. 

“Feeling good then?”

“Very well, yes.”

Harry unclenched his hands and splayed his fingers out over Severus’ chest. His breathing was fast and Harry could feel his heart pounding away, even through the layers of cloth, skin, muscle, and bone. “I’m glad.” Harry whispered, “I was so scared, Severus.”

“I’m fine.” Severus aligned their noses side-by-side. “Alive.”

The unspoken trauma of it, Harry knew, would linger. Perhaps, one day, it wouldn’t be unspoken, but Harry also knew it wasn’t so simple for people like them. For right now, alive would be enough. 

“I’m sorry I took so long to get to you.”

“Considering everything, I’d say you were admirably expeditious.”

Harry laughed, breathy and quiet, and opened his eyes. Severus’ dark eyes gazed back at him. Harry’s fingers moved to the line of buttons down Severus’ middle. He circled and fiddled with the one right over Severus rabbit-quick heart. “Even a second out of my sight is too long.”

“Saccharine.”

“True.”

Severus rolled his lips between his teeth. “We didn’t get to kill him. A bit anticlimactic.”

“True.” Harry arched an eyebrow. “I did get to punch him a few times.”

“I saw a few well-aimed kicks as well.’

Harry hummed his agreement. “It’s fine, really. I was mostly there for you, anyways.”

Severus kissed him again. 

Harry pulled back. “Or, maybe, entirely.”

Severus growled and wrapped his hands around Harry’s head and pulled him back in. Harry smiled into the kiss. He pushed his tongue forward and licked his way into the wet heat of Severus’ mouth. Even the man’s tongue was bloody strong, meeting Harry’s twisting undulations with strength and purpose and making him shiver.

“Not that I don’t absolutely love this turn of events,” Harry said, a bit wobbly. “Truly love it, Severus.”

Severus hummed and pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, to the shell of his ear, to the warm skin of his throat. 

“But what are we doing right now?”

Severus’ tongue flickered against his pulse point and Harry’s knees went weak as blood rushed to his cock. Severus nosed at the collar of Harry’s jumper and kissed his clavicle. “I’m seducing you.”

“In a dusty classroom.”

“Yes. Seemed fitting.”

“It does suit a number of my favorite fantasies.”

“Mine as well.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I could tell you,” Severus’ hands traced a path down Harry’s jumper, coming to a stop over the trembling muscles of his stomach. “Or…”

Harry went for the top button of Severus’ jacket. “Or?”

“I could undress you. Show you how…grateful I am.”

Harry’s fingers shook as he undid the button and continued down, slowly revealing the white button up beneath Severus’ jacket. That would be his next target. “Is that the only reason this is happening? Because I saved you?”

Severus took Harry’s hands in his, stilling them, but not removing them. Harry looked up and swallowed at the keenness he found in Severus’ eyes. “Harry, you saved me months ago.”

Harry’s voice cracked on his reply, “Yeah?”

“In innumerable ways. However, that is not at all why this is happening.” He lifted Harry’s hands to his lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. “What was it you said? Ah. The center of my world. Protective, passionate, loyal.”

Harry’s lips tugged up at the corners as Severus mirrored his own words back to him. Harry reciprocated. “Nonsense. An ideal you’ve formed…”

“You’re ridiculous, reckless. So fucking rude sometimes.”

Harry snorted. 

Severus smirked and placed Harry’s hands back on the opening folds of his jacket. “Your glasses are entirely too round, really.”

“Okay, okay, now switch to the sweet bits.” Harry resumed undressing Severus. 

“I love walking with you through the forrest. I love the way you throw a punch. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you see Potions ingredients. I love that you always smell like grass and summer air. I love how selflessly you give yourself to people that matter. I love that you have a bird’s nest on top of your head instead of hair. I love your smart mouth. I love the way your arse looks on a broom. I love the way you look at me across the Great Hall every morning, earnest and pleased, like you’re happy to see me. You,” Severus swallowed, “you make me feel open, vulnerable in a way I’ve never…” He shook his head. “I love how fiercely you love and fight and live. You make me feel…hopeful.”

Harry sniffed and bit the inside of his cheek. “Well done, you. Very sappy.”

“As for ‘why now’…” Severus kissed Harry, sweetly, simply, once. “I was reminded that, you and I, we are not normal men. We do not have the luxury of security, the promise of a tomorrow, even during peace. I don’t want to die without—without having you—”

“You already have me. I’ve been yours for ages.”

“Without having you know how you make me feel.” 

Harry smiled. “I know.”

Severus’ hands went to Harry’s hips. His fingers dipped under the hem of Harry’s jumper, warm and light against his skin. The muscles shifted and fluttered beneath them. 

Harry, having reached the end of the jacket buttons, began again at the top with the button up. He ran his thumb over the pink, smooth scars marking Severus throat. He worked the top button free, and then the next, and the next, revealing the vast expanse of Severus’ skin, one shiny button at a time. 

“These buttons keep me up at night, you know.”

Severus pulled Harry’s jumper over his head and tossed it aside. 

Harry righted his glasses before smoothing his hands under the open edges of fabric and pushing them all from Severus’ shoulders. Severus shivered, his skin prickling with goosebumps as Harry traced his fingers over the man’s shoulders and down his chest, through the dark trail of hair disappearing into his trousers. 

“Gorgeous, Harry.” Severus’ own hands skimmed over Harry’s shoulder and chest. He plucked at Harry’s pink nipples and they both watched them tighten under his attentions. 

Pleasure blazed a line of fire straight down to his cock and Harry moaned. He pressed his hips forward, finding the hard line of Severus’ cock. “Merlin, you feel huge.”

Severus pulled Harry into another kiss. “I’m going to strip you naked and throw you onto that desk.”

Harry licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder. “That big one over there?”

“Yes.” Severus hissed in his ear and nipped at the soft lobe. “Then, I will fuck you. Any objections?”

“None at all.”

In a flurry of motion and a tangling of limbs, Severus unzipped Harry’s jeans and pushed them and his pants down to his thighs, and Harry unbuckled Severus’ belt and opened his trousers. They dropped to pool around his ankles. Harry kicked his jeans off. They both shuffled out of socks and shoes and then crashed back together. 

Severus’ skin was so warm and smooth against Harry’s. Harry’s hands slid and glided over his body, trying to touch Severus everywhere at once. He sunk his nails in, wanted to leave an indelible mark on him. 

Severus’ hands hooked under Harry’s bum and hoisted him up. Harry wrapped his legs around Severus’ waist and his arms around his shoulders. Their lips never separating, their tongues never untangling. Severus set him down on the desk, as promised. The wood rough against delicate skin. 

Harry pulled away from Severus’ mouth and leaned back on his hands. “Wait.”

Severus tensed and stepped back. His eyes darted between Harry’s and his brows drew together. 

“No, it’s fine. I only want to look at you first.”

Severus’ expression cleared. His tongue slid along his red, kiss-swollen bottom lip. “I’m not—”

Harry reached forward to run his thumb over the tender flesh Severus’ tongue had just wet. He shook his head. “Let’s not do that, yeah.” 

Harry brought the thumb back to his chest, still damp from Severus’ mouth, and brushed it over the pink peak of his left nipple. He whimpered and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Only good thoughts here. Between us, only good things, alright?”

Severus nodded and stood up, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back. 

Harry spread his legs and looked between, taking it all in. 

Severus was pale, but Harry’d known he would be. 

He had less hair than Harry, only a light dusting on his legs, his forearms, his chest, and down the smooth plane of his belly. His cock stood out from a nest a dark curls. Pink, heavy, and lovely. 

He had scars. His throat, of course, but also a great gash down his thigh, small burn marks above his belly button, and a hook-shaped line over his hip.

 The jut of his hip bones was perfect, sharp but soft, forming a nice vee of muscle and bone, giving Harry something he could hold onto when he fucked him, while being fucked. 

Pleasure coursed through his limbs, pulling low in his belly. Harry squeezed the base of his cock before palming himself.

A breath huffed from Severus’ nose and his own cock twitched as he watched Harry’s hand move. His eyes grew darker, sharper. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the scar tissue as he swallowed and pulled his bottom lip between crooked teeth. 

Severus shifted between Harry’s thighs, bent forward, and kissed Harry. His hard length nudged at Harry’s and Harry’s breath caught in his lungs. 

He was about to have sex with Severus. Severus would touch him, be inside him. He’d come apart in front of Harry’s eyes. Pleasure would break over his face and, god, he’d moan and come, and Harry would see it all. Harry needed it, he needed all of it, he needed all of Severus. 

He released his cock and spread his legs further, opened his mouth wider, dug fingernails into the skin of Severus’ shoulders and pressed his hips against Severus’ over and over and over, moaning and whimpering. 

“Please, Severus. Fuck me. Please, I need you.”

A moan broke free from Severus lips, pulled from somewhere deep inside him. It rumbled through Harry and set his nerves on fire. Harry could die from it, from this, and Severus hadn’t even touched his cock yet. 

“You’re driving me mad.” Harry ran his hands down Severus back, his arse. He squeezed and pressed and let his fingers drift inward. “Touch me.”

Their eyes met and then drifted downward. Severus’ hand trembled as his fingers circled Harry’s cock and touched him for the first time. Harry keened at the sight of those beautiful hands on him. He’d never in his life been this hard. His cockhead was dusky red, free from his foreskin, a bead of precome leaked from the narrow slit. Severus’ hand moved, jerking him off slowly, brilliantly. 

“Can I touch you too?” Harry pressed his temple to Severus’. “Please, I want to.”

“Oh fuck, Christ, Harry.”

Harry’s fingers wandered down Severus’ side, skating over soft skin. He brushed them through the thick hair between his thighs. Severus’ mouth opened, his hot breath puffing over Harry’s lips. Harry’s own breath was coming fast, panting over his lips and mingling with Severus’. Harry kissed Severus and took him in hand. 

Severus whined, a hitching sob of noise. His eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Harry kissed him again and pumped his fist. “I’ve got you. It’s good, yeah?”

Severus nodded against Harry’s forehead.

Harry smirked. “Imagine how good it will be inside me.”

Severus’ eyes fluttered open and met Harry’s, overwhelmed but determined, shifting over every inch of Harry, analyzing, focusing. He turned his wrist just so and swiped his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock. 

Harry’s nerve endings sparked and flared.

Severus released Harry’s cock and moved his hand down, dancing over his bollocks, and then past them. 

“Hold yourself open for me, Harry.”

Harry moaned and let go of Severus. He hooked his hands behind his knees and pulled them back and out. He felt so open, so vulnerable, he shook from it. Severus bent forward and kissed Harry again, calming him. 

“You look beautiful like this, laid out for me.”

“On a desk.” Harry smirked.

Severus stood up, trailed his fingertips down the backs of Harry’s thighs, and smirked back. “On a desk, Mr. Potter.”

“I’ll wear my school uniform next time, shall I?”

Severus arched a brow and whispered a spell that made his fingers slick and shiny. “If you like.”

“If you like.”

“Hm. We can find out.”

Harry’s grin fell away as Severus’ fingers circled his hole, wider circles first than narrowing down, smaller and smaller, firmer and firmer, before pushing in and breaching Harry for the first time. Severus set a rhythm with one finger, then two, and reached up to take Harry’s cock in his other hand. 

Severus was wonderfully focused, watching Harry’s expression with his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth. His hands working quickly, but surely. The muscles in his arms shifting and flexing beneath his pale skin.

Harry rocked back against one of Severus’ gorgeous hands and then up into the other one. 

“So perfect,” he said. 

Then, Severus crooked a finger and Harry wanted to cry. He felt like a live wire. Any touch to his skin would set him on fire, set him off, sending him soaring. He could break apart, right here in this room. 

And then Severus slipped his fingers free and gripped Harry’s hip with one slick hand. He took his cock in the other hand and lined it up with Harry’s hole.

“Tell me,” Severus said, voice thick and rasping, “tell me if you need me to stop.”

Harry nodded and shored up his grip behind his knees. His hands were damp and slid against his skin, catching in the sparse hairs on his lower thigh. His pulse picked up and his breath became short and stuttered as he waited and wanted. 

Severus pressed in, slowly, carefully. So carefully Harry thought he’d go mad. 

When he sunk in to the hilt, Severus’ balls nestling against Harry’s arse, they both groaned. 

Severus’ hair was a riot around his face, bits here and there stuck straight up. His cheeks were pink and his ears red. He bent forward, pressed his mouth to Harry’s, and rocked his hips forward. 

Severus moaned and stopped. He straightened up and grabbed Harry’s hips with both hands. He met Harry’s eyes, his face so open, so clearly eager. Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest, fast and light and relentless. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, Severus.”

And Severus pumped his hips. Filling Harry. Touching him in places he’d never been touched. Harry felt him everywhere. Felt the lick of his magic. The press of his skin. The steady beat of his pulse. 

Severus closed his eyes, his mouth falling open. His teeth gnashed together and he hissed as he fucked Harry harder and harder. Harry grunted and wrapped his fingers around Severus’ forearms. 

Severus opened his eyes and looked down at Harry, panting and slowing down. He tilted his head and adjusted the angle of his hips to Harry’s arse. He pumped his hips again and Harry gasped as Severus’ cock brushed that spot his fingers had found earlier. 

One side of Severus mouth tugged upward and he said, “Almost.”

“Almost,” Harry echoed, mindlessly.

Severus adjusted Harry’s hips and began fucking him again, and that was it. Harry threw his head back with a curse, trying so very bloody hard not to change this miracle angle that Severus had found. 

Harry reached back and clutched the edge of the desk, rutting his arse forward, harder and harder, onto Severus’ cock. His own cock angled straight off from his body, bouncing with the steady rhythm of their fucking. He arched his back just so and the head knocked against his lower belly with each thrust and Harry knew he would come like this. Without a hand on him. 

“Oh god, Harry. I’m so close. I need you to come for me.”

Harry looked down between them, where they were joined, where Severus was fucking into him. Harry’s thighs shook and trembled. His stomach muscles twitched and flexed as his orgasm built and heat pooled. 

Harry looked at Severus’ face, lost and wild and open, watching Harry. Always watching Harry.

Pleasure raced up his thighs, down his belly. His muscles pulled taut and his teeth clenched and he was coming. Stripes of hot, sticky come painted his tight stomach, hit a a pebbled nipple. He tasted blood in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. 

Severus suppressed a shout as his hips pumped helplessly into Harry. His fingers tightened around Harry’s hips hard enough to bruise. A burst of heat filled Harry and the muscles in his channel clenched around it, around Severus’ cock. 

Harry’s heart pounded and pounded, almost painfully, away in his chest. He feared it would never settle again, that he’d spend the rest of his life with his heart racing after Severus. His panting breath made his lips dry, he licked his tongue across the tender skin to relieve them. 

He let his head drop back against the desk as Severus gently pulled his cock free and collapsed on top of Harry. His dark tangle of hair tickled Harry’s nose. Harry shifted his face away, but turned back to press a kiss to Severus’ damp temple. But then, finding he didn’t want to remove them, he left them there to rest. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ chest, felt it rise and fall as Severus’ breath settled. 

“That was fantastic,” Harry said.

Severus agreed with a raspy hum. 

“Everyday, Severus.”

A questioning grunt.

“We should do this everyday.”

Severus pushed up onto his hands and peered down at Harry. His hair falling in sex-tousled curtains around his sharp cheekbones, his earnest eyes, his swollen mouth. 

Harry ran a hand through the hair, tucking it behind a so-soft ear. Harry smiled up at him. He could tell it was soppy and too loose, but he couldn’t hold it in. He was mad about Severus. Besotted. Crazy in love.

Harry cradled Severus face in his hands and pulled him down for another kiss. 

Severus came willingly, beautifully, with the loveliest of sighs. 

Chapter Text

Harry ran his finger across the page one last time, making sure he had the spell inflections memorized correctly. He pointed his wand at the wall and cast. The bricks folded in and away, the glass panes stretched and lengthened, and the window’s bench seating expanded, a new cushion popping into existence. Bright summer sunshine flooded into the Grimmauld sitting room. The sun still high in the sky even though it was pushing towards seven already. 

Harry stepped forward to take a gander out of his new window. The green hilled space that was Claremont Square peeked into view over the trees that lined the area. A couple walked a brindle dog along the pavement below, holding hands and chatting and looking happy. One side of Harry’s mouth tugged up as he watched them disappear around the corner. 

“And what are you smiling about, Potter?”

Harry turned around to find Severus stood in the arched entryway of the room. 

Harry had crafted the archway last week using the same renovation guides he’d bought last summer. He’d enlarged the doorway and added a simple white molding. It provided the room with a modern look. And, presently, it contrasted nicely with Severus’ dark robes. They weren’t his old teaching style robes. They were looser, softer. Very touchable, in Harry’s opinion. And he’d been touching them plenty recently. 

From one of Severus’ lovely hands dangled a familiar plastic takeaway bag.

Harry grinned. “Is that curry?”

Severus lifted it higher. “It is indeed.”

“Plan on sharing?”

“Perhaps.”

Harry chuckled and gestured to the window. “What do you think?”

“It’s certainly bigger.”

Harry sent him an unimpressed look. “Does it suit the room though? Too big? Too small?”

Severus shrugged. “It’s your home.”

“Not this nonsense again.” Harry just barely suppressed an eye roll. “You’ve been here for over two months. It’s our home, you prat.”

“If you say so.” 

Severus spun on his heel and made for the kitchen, the delicious scent of cumin, ginger, and turmeric trailing after him. Harry’s stomach rumbled and he was powerless to resist. He had to follow behind. 

Not that this was a hardship. The sight of Severus’ broad shoulders and slender hips sauntering down the hallway more than made up for being distracted from his renovation work by dinner. 

After graduation, Harry’d moved back to Grimmauld and took the project back up first thing. He’d worked on the foyer and front corridor, then the stairs and the landings. He’d made space for a Potions lab towards the beginning of August and used it to lure a newly unemployed (by choice) and homeless Severus to move in with him. 

Harry’d worked on their bedroom while Severus set up his new lab, preparing it for a, hopefully, robust mail order Potions business. 

Harry’d moved on to the sitting room last week, selling the furniture, patching the walls, ripping down the wallpaper, and pulling out mouldering carpets and refinishing the floors. The window was the last structural change. Tomorrow, he’d paint the walls and have a go at coaxing Severus into some furniture shopping and a nice dinner out in Soho. 

Harry came up behind where Severus was taking styrofoam containers out of the bag and arranging them on the table. He wrapped his arms around a slim waist, spread his hands over the flat stomach hidden away beneath all those layers. He tucked his chin over Severus’ left shoulder and watched graceful hands lay everything out. 

“Mmmm, you remembered the samosas.”

“Vegetable and lamb.”

“You spoil me.”

Severus unwrapped the naan from its foil and popped open containers of fish marsala, butter chicken, and aloo palak. The heavenly scent of roasted garlic, grilled meat, and slow-cooked vegetables blended and wafted up. Harry groaned against the warm skin of Severus’ throat. 

“Merlin,” he said. “‘m starving.”

Severus brushed his hands together before bring them up to mantle Harry’s own. He turned his head, pressing his cheek to Harry’s temple, and asked, “Did you mail your applications?”

Harry nodded and drew in a breath. Severus smelled of mint and smoke and the lavender laundry detergent they used. “Both of them,” he mumbled against Severus.

“How do you feel?”

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line and gave it some real thought. “Lighter, I suppose.”

Severus laced their fingers together and squeezed before pulling away to fetch plates and cutlery. Harry opened the fridge and grabbed two beers. Severus’ lip curled a bit when he saw but took one from Harry all the same. 

Severus liked to pretend he was above things like takeaway and beer and domestic nights in, but he really, really wasn’t. As evidenced by their dinner tonight.

Harry would bet good money that Severus’d be the one to grab their second bottles as they ambled off to the library after dinner. Severus’d be the one to scoot a bit closer on the sofa while Harry watched telly; whatever book he was reading would sit open and abandoned in his lap while he carded fingers through Harry’s hair. They’d brush their teeth side-by-side before tucking into bed for the night. 

Harry smirked as he settled into his seat and continued, “I should hear back from the London Uni by December, but the selection board for the program in Glasgow won’t meet again until after the holidays.”

Harry had shut the door to joining the MLE. His interest in fighting dark wizards extended about as far as keeping his friends and family safe. He couldn’t operate under Robards’ thumb. He wasn’t built to bow under the whims and priorities of others. He didn’t want to play politics with the Ministry or cat-and-mouse with the Order. He wanted something simple, but challenging. Something that didn’t have him constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next attack.  

He still enjoyed studying Defense. It was easily his best subject. He and Severus had had a long talk about what he could do with that interest that didn’t involve dealing with administrative bureaucracy and gits with big egos. What they came up with was surprising to everyone.

Healing. Treating and reversing the effects of curses, hexes, and other dark magic. 

He’d get his saving-people-thing fix. He would be fighting the fight against the evil of the world, but in his own way. 

He’d managed to pass all the NEWTS he needed to to apply to programs in Britain. Slughorn had written a stunning letter of recommendation for him and Severus had helped him with his applications. 

He had a few more years of advanced study before he could apply for a training residency at St. Mungo’s, but Harry was excited about the process, about all of it. The future had become eminently tangible as soon as he’d made his choice, in a way it had never been in his life. Not like a tumbled inevitability, a clashing of fates, but in a measured, normal way. 

Severus swiped his naan through some masala sauce and popped the last of it in his mouth. His nimble fingers, so graceful and slender, with their neatly trimmed nails and knobby knuckles, plucked up a napkin and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. He spoke, oblivious to Harry’s attentions, “What are your plans for tonight?”

He glanced up and his eyes caught on Harry’s gaze. Harry smirked and pushed his plate away. He brought his elbow to the table and let his chin rest on his hand. He waggled his eyebrows. 

Severus rolled his eyes, but his mouth struggled to hold back a return smirk. “Insatiable.”

“It’s hard to be sated when the offerings are so delectable.”

“Hm.” Severus pushed his plate away and took a sip from his bottle. “Such a big word.”

“I know how much you love when I show off my many talents.”

Severus scoffed, but his eyes had gone dark. 

Visions of snuggling on the sofa while watching telly vanished, replaced with thoughts of warm skin, of fingers tracing over the hard planes and soft curves of flesh. Plates forgotten, leftovers abandoned to spoil, they tumbled up the stairs, hands working buttons free and tackling buckles and zips. By the time they fell into the downy comfort of their bed, they were only wearing their pants. 

Harry pressed Severus into the sheets, nipping at his lips before moving on to kiss the sensitive skin of Severus’ throat. Severus’ sighed softly as Harry mapped the paths and ridges of the now-familiar scars. 

Harry brushed his lips over the cool bump of a clavicle. 

Severus’ heart thrummed away beneath his sternum and Harry lingered there, feeling the steady beat of life against his mouth. Harry’s brow drew together as he focused on it, memorized it, imprinted the rhythm of it onto his own heart.

Harry swallowed down the emotion welling up from his gut and continued on, kissing a line over the warm skin of his belly and running his fingers over Severus’ quivering muscles. There was a freckle nestled in the shallow of his right hip bone and Harry kissed it, tasted it with his tongue. Severus arched his back and huffed a breathy pant from his nose.

Harry’s cock twitched, trapped in the cotton of his briefs. The sounds Severus made in bed—they drove Harry mad. Every little whimper, each keening cry sent heat racing through his limbs, made his vision narrow and darken.

He nuzzled his nose into the tangle of hair that disappeared into Severus’ pants. Harry traced two fingers under the hem of his blue boxer brief and Severus hissed, his hips jerking upward. 

Harry met Severus’ eyes as he hooked his fingers into the man’s pants and carefully peeled them off. Severus’ lovely cock sprang free. Slender and dusky pink, longer than Harry’s. Harry could admire it all day, drive himself wild with the sight of it. The wet head peeked out from the sheath of his foreskin, not yet fully free. 

Harry could fix that. 

On his hands and knees, he bent low to taste the precome gathered there at the soft folded edge. He flicked his tongue up and dipped into the slit, gathering the salty offering with a groan. 

Severus hands buried themselves into Harry’s hair, moaning and tugging, setting Harry’s nerves on fire. 

Harry brought Severus into his mouth. With the flat of his tongue, he stroked over thick veins, lapped at the delicate bit of skin under the head of his cock. He bobbed his head, up and down, bringing Severus as far into his throat as he could bare, over and over again. 

He pulled off, hovering only a breath away from Severus’ cock. He ran the back of his hand over his lips, swollen and tender from sucking Severus off. His voice rasped as he said, “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Severus’ hands tightened in Harry’s hair as he threw his head back. His chest bowed upward.

“Look at me.” Harry circled his tongue around the soft pink cockhead, dipping into the slit, and kissing the tip gently to get his attention back. “Look at me, Severus.”

Severus lifted his head. His breath came in gusty pants, his chest moving up and down jaggedly. He adjusted his grip on Harry’s hair as Harry’s mouth parted over his cock. Severus pushed himself between Harry’s lips, filling him slowly, carefully. 

Harry spread his knees wider and reached down between his legs. He took his own cock in hand and jerked himself off as Severus used his mouth. He wanted more of it, wanted Severus to not be so careful with him, wanted Severus to lose control and take what he needed. 

Harry shifted slightly and lowered his shoulder, made sure Severus could see what he was doing, knowing Severus loved watching Harry bring himself off. 

Severus caught sight of Harry working his own cock and whimpered. His brow drawing together and his mouth parting. His cheeks colored and his eyes went glassy. He pumped his hips upward, matching the rhythm of Harry’s hand as his cock nudged relentlessly at the back of Harry’s throat. 

Severus chanted his name, “Harry, Harry, Harry.” The sound of it on those lips, coming from the low rumble of that voice, made Harry’s thighs tremble as bolts of pleasure raced up his limbs, shot through his belly, tightened in his groin. 

Severus’ cock filled his mouth and, God, it was glorious. He never wanted to leave this bed. He never wanted to stop touching Severus. He never wanted Severus to stop saying his name, to stop needing him, stop loving him. He wrapped the hand not on his cock around one of Severus’ thighs. Everything, sensation and emotion and potential, gathered together, pulled tight inside of him. He sobbed around a moan and his hand sped up, desperate for relief. 

Severus’ cock hardened further against his tongue and Severus groaned, rough, pulled from deep within his gut. His come filled Harry’s mouth and set off Harry’s own orgasm, bright and hot and beautiful. 

Harry pulled off and collapsed against Severus’ trembling thigh. He let himself catch his breath before wiping his mouth and climbing up the bed to curl against Severus’ side. He laid his head on the man’s shoulder. 

Severus pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and summoned the sheets up over their bodies. 

They rested in silence. Severus ran a hand up and down Harry’s spine. Harry swirled a finger around Severus’ pink, peeked nipple, thumbing at it. He watched the rise and fall of his chest, felt the strong heart beating within him. He remembered all the times over the last year he’d watched this man breathe. All the times he’d been thankful for the steady thrumming of his pulse. 

First, when he’d found him in the Shrieking Shack, then all those weeks at his bedside while he recovered, and again when he’d been poisoned—

Harry flattened his hand over Severus’ heart. “Severus, who poisoned you?”

Severus stiffened beneath him. “What do you mean?”

Harry pushed up onto an elbow and looked down at Severus. “Anders didn’t know what I was talking about when I said you’d been poisoned.”

Severus wrinkled his nose and plucked at the sheets. “When on earth did you manage to bring that up?”

“When we were messing about with the wards.”

Severus arched a brow. He blew out a breath and shifted, forcing Harry off of him as he pushed up on his own elbow and met his gaze. His mouth did a weird little dance, like he could taste the words on his tongue and didn’t care for them. Harry watched, both bemused and amused, achingly curious over what he was about to be told. 

Severus huffed and threw himself back down on the bed. He draped an arm over his eyes, sighed, and said, quietly, “You were right.”

“What does that mean?” Harry chuckled and buried his mouth against his pillow, eyes staying on Severus. “What exactly was I right about?”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling. “It was ridiculous of me to think I could slip back into that world, into my role as a spy.”

“Ah.” Harry felt a surge of satisfaction, but tried to keep it pressed into the pillow. “You don’t say.”

“Shut it,” Severus said, low and without heat. “I am not the same man and they knew it. You’ve made me soft and useless. There was no regaining their trust.”

Harry took Severus’ hands in his, forcing them to untuck from the man’s chest. “You are far from useless, Sev, and I like you a bit soft.”

Severus threw an unimpressed look his way, whether about the nickname or the comment, Harry didn’t know. Severus laced their fingers together and continued, “I’d protected you for so long, regardless of danger. Every move bent towards that task, above all else.” Severus ran his tongue across his top lip. “It is a hard habit to let go. Especially as your continued existence means unfathomably more to me now, in a myriad of novel ways.”

Harry smiled. “We will just have to protect each other from here on, yeah?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Mush.”

“Truth.” Harry curled himself back around Severus and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “So, tell me who it was. Do I know them?”

Severus shook his head. “Unlikely. A friendly contact trying to scare me away from my mission.”

“Friendly? They almost killed you.”

“I am aware.”

Harry snuggle close to Severus’ warmth, melding the curve of his body to the curve of Severus’. “Do you want me to punch him in the face for you?”

“Her, and no.” Severus tugged Harry impossibly closer. “Not that I don’t find your reliance on fisticuffs charming, but I’ve already sent her something quite unpleasant.”

Harry smiled, then pressed it away with a scowl. “Nothing illegal, I hope.”

“Oh, very illegal.”

Harry shook his head, but let his smile return. “No one messes with Severus Snape.”

“No one but you.”

Harry chuckled against the warm skin beneath him. “That is so bloody sappy of you.”

One side of Severus’ mouth tugged up and he kissed Harry. 

Harry grinned against his mouth and said, “I love you.”

Severus hummed and kissed him again, a soft press. He nuzzled his cheek against Harry’s and whispered into the delicate shell of Harry’s ear, “And I you, always.”