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Chapter Text

It started when Hermione found him passed out drunk on the floor. He'd taken a week vacation because he'd been forced to by Minister Kingsley and had nothing better to do but drain the wine cellar of Grimmauld place. Ginny was away playing Quidditch somewhere, Ron and Hermione were busy with work, Neville had proposed for the second time (this time with her mother's opal ring instead of the one with the Longbottom family crest on it) to Luna and was eyeball deep in wedding planning, and Harry had just crashed hard.

He'd tried to tell people so many times that he felt wrong in his own skin, and they'd always told him it was fine and he should be happy. It didn't matter that he'd been given straight O grades on all his work and N.E.W.T. exams during their final year of school, because he'd probably earned at least an EE on them anyway. It didn't matter that he felt uncomfortable with all the awards and gifts, it was good for other people to celebrate the end of the war. It didn't matter that the drunken hate-fuck he had with Malfoy after one ministry gala had been the best sex of his life, he really should have proposed to Ginny already. It didn't matter that he only barely knew Ginny and had trouble remembering important things about her sometimes, they were obviously meant to be and he'd just been too busy during the war to properly court her. It didn't matter that he cried harder at Snape's grave than at Sirius' or Remus' and had vomited the last time he was asked to visit Dumbledore's, grief is just funny that way. It didn't matter that he woke up in a cold sweat most nights from dreams he pretended he didn't remember, that would pass with time.

For once, Hermione listened and admitted that it wasn't right that he'd gotten the same grades she did when he hadn't put in nearly as much work. She gasped when he told her about the night he cheated on Ginny, but didn't shush him or try to tell him how he should feel the way Percy had when Harry told him he was thinking of ending things with Ginny. She didn't downplay his anger over the way Dumbledore manipulated them, and listened to his grief over having never properly gotten to know the only one of his mum's friend who survived the first war until after Snape was dead. Snape had been one of the few adults in his childhood who hadn't wanted anything from him other than to be a good student. That led into a recounting of the times the unpleasant man had saved Harry, or tried to, or objected when other people thought that Harry ought to be the one solving adult problems. Harry had never really talked about Snape's memories, they were so personal and he didn't think Snape would want him to, but between bouts of vomiting and crying he described the way Snape had snapped at Dumbledore when the plan for Harry to martyr himself to destroy the horcrux inside him was revealed, all but snarling at the headmaster for raising Harry as a pig for slaughter.

She should have gone back to the ministry. She was only supposed to pop in for a quick lunch, but instead she sent a note saying that Harry was ill and she would be taking the afternoon to help him get sorted. Then she poured some water down him, cleaned him up, and put him down for a nap.

"If you really can't shake the feeling that you aren't qualified for the job, you could do some night classes or take a year to get a specialty of some kind. The auror's office is short on medics, aren't they? You learned some basic first aid and all that during the war, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get the certification," Hermione suggested when he woke up that evening, still a bit drunk but no longer too far off his tits to remember the details of the conversation. She'd been knitting by the fire and was no longer in the fussy starched robes she wore to work, so she must have popped home while he was sleeping.

"But healing?" Harry asked, flopping down into the armchair across from her.

"As an example. You could probably do a creature specialization, if you want to go overseas to get away from the bias in your favor. You could ask Charlie about it, he'd certainly help you find a nature reserve where you could do the magizoologist studies. I mention healing because I really don't think they would fudge the mediwizard exams just because you are The Man Who Lived. Lives are on the line, so if anything they'd be harsher on you to over-correct," Hermione said, her fingers dancing as she turned yarn into cloth.

Harry spent the next month in a robotic haze, the idea percolating in the back of his mind. He'd been given the job as an auror, but it had been long enough since the war he should be able to trust that a specialist certification wouldn't just be given to him because of his fame. Healing certifications were too important to fudge, but to become a magical creature specialist he'd have to spend a few months working closely with dangerous creatures. That would probably take him out of England, at least to the Highlands if not to the continent or further. He wasn't sure he wanted to be that far from Teddy, the only reason he hadn't fallen to pieces before now was helping Andromeda raise the happy little ball of energy.

So, Harry started studying. First aid, emergency care, mostly the sorts of things he was likely to encounter on the job at first. It was interesting, and doing something new was rather nice. It broke him out of the routine he'd gotten stuck in, for certain. Hermione came by to tell him he seemed better and showed him a booklet about a program in the United States for aspiring healers. The American system was all rather profit-oriented with their private healthcare system, the way the program was sponsored by an alchemical company felt downright strange, and the fees were outrageous, but it was a comprehensive program with a campus complete with simple one-bedroom flats to house traveling students for the duration. The whole thing was modeled after the muggle university system. Hermione said that while the apprenticeship-style system was still used in the muggle world for trade skills like carpentry and electricians and such, most formal professions now required university degrees. European wixan still used the apprentice system for everything beyond N.E.W.T. level, but trust the Americans to experiment with things they could charge a fee for.

He spent two months in Arizona, spending up to twelve hours a day in seminars, lectures, and demonstrations. Some of that was propaganda and advertising, and he wrote home with scathing critiques about American capitalism, but there were interesting bits of information even in the seminars designed to promote a certain apothecary supplier. He got a deeper tan than he'd ever had before, his skin warming to a cinnamon color that reminded him of the portrait of his great-great grandmother he'd found in the old Potter estate once the timed lock from his grandparent's dragon pox quarantine ended. Her mother had been from India, and Henry Potter, Harry's namesake, had converted to Hinduism for her according to what he understood from the old journals and letters.

There was a Native American healer who came into the lecture hall with his rattlesnake familiar wrapped around his neck that really sparked Harry's interest. He had long gorgeous black hair, an interesting face with high cheekbones, and an extremely flirtatious personality. Also, his lectures about snake venom and the use of familiars to anchor a healer's magic or assist in diagnostic exams were interesting. Dave became just as interested in Harry after Harry responded sarcastically to the rattlesnake's comments about Harry's elevated heart rate and scent implying a desire to mate, and they had a number of conversations both in English and Parseltongue about the connection between snakes and healing. Harry also, after perhaps too much denial, accepted that he was completely and irrevocably bent after some of their conversations ended with both of them naked and panting.

Turns out snake familiars made excellent wingmen, and Harry quite liked a bit of verbal sparring and intellectual debate. The whole thing with Malfoy made a lot more sense in hindsight, though that bisexual disaster was set to have some grand gala of a wedding to one of the Greengrass sisters as fast as a member of high society could possibly plan such a thing. Ron wrote that the gossip vine was sure Malfoy's first child was already on the way, and it was very poor form to have a baby bump at your own wedding.

Harry returned to England with a stack of books on parselmagic, a newly hatched butter corn snake squirming around his robes, and arguably improved mental health. Teddy thought Goldenrod was the most interesting little critter he'd ever seen, and Goldenrod broke all the stereotypes about reptiles by liking everyone and being highly social. She especially liked the people who liked her the least, because the baby snake self-identified as a nuisance and a problem, and would shimmy up Hermione's leg without warning just to freak her out.

The junior mediwizard exam was given on a set schedule four times a year, and he'd just missed it when he came back from America so he had some time back at work while he waited. After so long working in the ministry, Harry had discovered deeper significance in the many subtle differences between the muggle and magical worlds. Aurors were both police and the army, hit wizards were both special forces and the most aggressive side of MI6 while the Department of Mysteries handled the rest as well as providing information on various subjects to the wizengamot ahead of votes on proposals by request. So many things were just slightly different than what a muggle-raised person might expect, either in scope or organization. It had been four centuries since their world was split into the magical and the mundane, and things had diverged quite a bit. Harry found himself reading books on recent history during his downtime instead of novels, filling in more understanding of where his country's borders and territories were, international politics, and how the world got to be where it was in the 90's with a Dark Lord on the loose. Harry's world had been so myopically small, and he now understood that Dumbledore had deliberately ensured that was the case so that Harry could be better steered through what needed to be done, and now he had the chance to catch up.

Yet, the distractions didn't chase the melancholy haze away completely, and he still had nightmares. He was depressed, enough that he and Dave had had more than one row about Harry needing professional help, but there were things Harry would never be able to talk about with some uninvolved person. He was haunted, and he did try not to think about how literally or what it all meant, but he knew there was one way he could safely talk to someone about what stalked him in his nightmares.

Covered in the invisibility cloak, Harry went to visit Hogwarts grounds. Grave robbing was wrong, but it was his own property via conquest and bloodline right. He looked as little as he could at the rest of the tomb as he retrieved the wand. The elder wand all but leapt into his hand, chilly yet humming with an eagerness to get on with things. Then he turned to the forest, and although he couldn't see it, although the underbrush had changed in the years since, although he had to dig his fingers into the earth to the second knuckle, Harry bent down and plucked the stone from the ground on the first try. He turned it over once in his fingers, and just knew she was there without even looking up. He didn't remove the cloak, not even the hood.

"Hello, mum."

"You've been suffering, Harry," the soul of the late Lily Jean Potter said gently.

"I don't want this," Harry said. "I didn't want to be special when I was a kid, and I don't want this now."

"That doesn't change what is," mum said.

"Could I die?" Harry asked. "Not that I'm planning to, but if I did, would it stop?"

"No, it wouldn't. You are the Master of Death. If you die, you only lose the ability to hide from Death among the living," there was a bit of censure under the gentle words.

"Immortality sucks," Harry spat out. "None of this is fair."

"Life isn't fair," she said, but Harry could swear a male voice echoed behind her. Perhaps it was just his own memories.

"So I get to spend eternity as the Master of Death," Harry said. "I keep having dreams about balance, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it."

"I'm not the person you really need to talk to about that, and you should stop avoiding it. Perhaps it is just that I have been dead for so long, but Death is quite comforting," mum said thoughtfully.

"You've spoken to Death?" Harry asked. Mum shook her head.

"No, that is a privilege I hadn't earned. I was greeted by my parents and in-laws, since James and I arrived nearly together. The gods are all so busy. St. Peter did spare me a moment, he does for all Christians, and James was worried at first that some Hindu god would show up with some things to say about him leaving his faith behind so casually, but mostly the dead are led on by those who died before us. Few get to speak to death directly. Most wouldn't want to."

Harry sighed. Here he was, hiding from Death among the living and running from Death in his dreams, and all the while the majority of people were never granted the privilege of Death's attention. Harry shrugged off the cloak, properly chastised, and raised the death stick over his head. Fog started to roll in, without him properly casting any spell, and he lowered his arm slowly.

"Thanks Mum, for talking to me about this," Harry said, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes.

"Oh, Harry, have you been sleeping at all?"

"I'm actually doing better recently. It got really bad for a bit," Harry admitted.

"I saw. I watch over you, you know. That's part of what parents do."

"That's not at all concerning," Harry joked. "My mum watching everything I do."

"I do give you some privacy, and sometimes I spend time with others or check on Petunia." She shrugged, her green eyes crinkled with mirth. "It is difficult to explain, but I will always be watching you when you need me to be there. When you are shagging some random bloke, I'm suddenly far too busy with my own affairs." Harry barked out a surprised laugh.

"Good to know. Is there a point asking how you've been?"

"I've been dead long enough, I am almost fully at peace with my life. I'm only waiting on Petunia, really. You don't need me very much, anymore."

"Rest well, mum."

"Farewell, Harry." Harry kept looking at the spot where she'd been for some time as the fog grew thicker.

The fog followed him all the way home, blanketing London within ten minutes of him apperating back to Grimmauld. He had some supper. He took a bath. He settled down to sleep.

When the nightmare came, he didn't run this time. He stood in the void and let the cloying cold and damp envelop him. The mist surrounded him and passed over him, but the damp retreated to a respectable distance after a moment. There was no skeletal figure with a sickle, crippled man with a mace riding a buffalo, wise elder accountant, or raven-faced witch of the wilds. Just a presence, an ancient darkness, just out of sight but obviously there. Harry was nervous, but felt no fear. It was still and quiet. Like being out in a field of snow, when everything was sleeping and the stars were out.

"Was there something you wanted?" Harry asked, when the silence stretched on.

"Acceptance." Harry couldn't have described the voice if he spent the rest of his life with a thesaurus. He couldn't even say that the response had been in a human language, or that it was spoken at all. It was just a concept that rang through the mist around him.

"Oh, well, I suppose I have been fighting this," Harry admitted.

"Difficult."

"I've been told I'm hard work sometimes, yeah," Harry answered nervously.

"Same."

"Right. Yes, I suppose so." Harry took a steadying breath. Why was he so nervous, anyway? Death seemed calm and rather understanding, even about how speaking to the personification of a concept of a natural process wasn't exactly a normal thing for a mortal mind to wrap itself around. "Anything you need? Only there has been this howling screech chasing me recently, and now that I've stood still long enough to meet you I'm thinking it wasn't you yelling at me."

"Not I. You."

"Sorry?"

"You need."

"Oh, I... haven't been well. I think the living and I can work that out, though," Harry said delicately. "Not that I'm ungrateful that you've noticed."

"You lack."

"I lack what?" Harry asked. Out in the mist, Harry saw a shape moving.

"Balance."

"I don't follow."

"You can not follow. What was to be yours, was taken into mine. I can not give." Harry listened to the slow words that echoed in his soul and flowed in his veins.

"Someone died who shouldn't have?" Harry asked, curious that such a thing could happen.

"I can not give," Death repeated, though it seemed remorseful this time. "I only take."

"I wasn't asking you to give anyone back. I'm trying to understand." The shape in the fog was some kind of animal, moving slow and cautiously on four thin legs. "Who was taken?"

"Reward. Balance."

"Alright. What can I do to fix it?" Harry asked, abandoning his previous question as too open-ended in favor of some practicality.

"Willing?"

"Yes," Harry said, cautiously lifting the end of the word into a question.

"You will take."

"If you can explain, I will try my best."

"Try again."

"Alright, we'll try again." Harry took a deep breath. The mist seemed to be drawing closer, and he thought he could just about make out the animal shrouded by it. Something with hooves, that took cautious, delicate little steps on what seemed to be a forest floor. "Tell me what to do."

"Live."

"I'd planned to. What else?"

"Live well."

"As I said, already the plan, even if I wasn't doing the best job of it before. Not sure I can die, unless I choose to, given the whole Master of Death thing." Harry twitched nervously. It was a female deer, made of glittering silver mist like a patronus might be. 

When he was younger, he hadn't known the difference between types of deer. He'd thought any male deer with antlers could be called a stag and all the girls were called does. Instead, a stag like Harry's patronus was a red deer, and the female of that species was called a hind. The hind in front of him now looked lovely and lonely, and he reached out to touch without thinking. She bounded to the side, joyfully skipping around him like her legs were made of springs before melting back into the mist that surrounded Harry.

"The soul will not reincarnate. Too soon."

"You tried to reincarnate the person who shouldn't have died early?" Harry asked.

"No. Too Soon. I can take the time."

"Alright," Harry said, relief flowing through him. He breathed it out into the mist in long, steadying breaths. He thought he got it now. Someone died that hadn't been meant to die, however that was possible. They had been important to balance somehow, however that worked, but that person's soul would need time before it was ready to live again. He could wrap his mind around that.

"Calm. Finally."

"Sorry I've been so nervous. So, it was that soul I heard howling?" Harry supposed.

"Loss."

"Yes. There was a lot of that going around."

"Once, and again. It can be done."

"I suppose it would take time for a soul to be ready to reincarnate. I doubt many would be ready to do it so long as they had someone living who loved them they could watch over. They deserve time to confront their lives and find their peace, also, and others may need them to find peace for themselves even if they were already at peace," Harry said. The mist felt like agreement around him as he said it, and he was sure he'd gotten that whole concept the right way around. He'd certainly spent enough time poking around old bits of writing about the Peverell family.

"Ready?"

"Can you tell me how much time?"

"Thirty and ten should do. Give or take."

"Well, I've only lived to twenty-five so far, but I think I can handle that." A forty year wait to meet whoever it was again. That seemed rather quick, considering. Or maybe Death meant thirty years for them to be reborn and... and McGonagall had invited him back to teach at Hogwarts a few times, and he'd been tempted, hadn't he? He'd likely meet this reborn person as a student when they started school depending on what subject he took on. Perhaps it was Tonks? Lavender Brown? He hadn't known many of the girls or women who had died in the war personally. Maybe it was someone he was meant to meet and become close to after. It still didn't quite sit right, considering he wasn't into women, and the only male with a female patronus that he knew of was...

"Snape?" Harry whispered, confused again.

"I will take the time from you. You will take your reward, and all will be balanced."

"F-from me?"

"Be ready."

Harry woke with a start, leaping up out of the bed to find he'd overslept and would have to hurry to get to the office on time. He'd have to have a long think on what that all meant when he had the chance, though now that he thought that it must have been Snape he wasn't certain a soul mate was what Death had been talking about. Though, if anyone deserved a chance at a better life, Severus Snape certainly qualified. His life had been terrible, and then he hadn't lived long enough to see himself called a hero for all the hard work he put in or get to move on without being chained to two masters. No rewards for him, and there hadn't even been anyone to handle the funeral arrangements until the other Heads of House stepped up to claim the body. They were still finding little things Snape had done, protective spells he'd worked into the Hogwarts wards or people creeping out of safe houses now that some sustainable charm had failed or their food had finally run out. If Harry could return the favor, balance the debt owed perhaps; that would be nice. Snape's reborn self wouldn't know why Harry favored him, whenever he made it back to the world of the living, but Harry could be there to protect and guide him, perhaps with a kinder methodology than how Snape had tried to guide him.

Five hours later, Harry was full of sweets from his coworkers, well chided for not taking his birthday off, and in hot pursuit of a suspect. They were still mopping up mess from those who believed deeply in blood supremacy. This one was a sixteen year old trying to reinvent time-turners so he could go back and help Voldemort win the war. He had help from an aunt of his, some ancient old witch who said she spoke with the Morrigan. Her words when she was being restrained and arrested bothered Harry.

"The world is out of balance! There is too little magic and the old ways are being lost! You must let us do this, we must change the timeline!"

Now, they were deep in the old wood the woman lived next to. One of the protected groves that had been shielded from muggle industry since the statute of secrecy was signed, and it was a magnificent patch of wilderness. It was hot out, but the shade was cool and the forest so bursting with life and magic Harry felt crowded by it. He hopped over a fallen log, careful despite his haste not to disturb the hanging moss above or the mushrooms sprouting below more than he absolutely had to. He caught up to the young man, who was trying to perform the ritual on his own.

"Stop! Stop, please, we can talk this through," Harry cried out, sprinting around a chest-high brier to get to the clearing beyond. "That's dangerous magic, it will destroy you if you don't stop."

"If Magic demands my sacrifice, I give my life willingly!" the young man shouted back. He would have started Hogwarts while Harry and Hermione were doing their 'eighth' year of school. There had been no N.E.W.T. exams held in '98 with the castle such a mess. Everyone had either stayed an extra year or gotten a job and come back to take the exams in '99. "Morrigan take me, use me to right the world!"

"Stop! There are better ways!" Harry pivoted around the edge of the thorns with the help of an old Yew tree, entering the clearing past a rock that marked true north. Magic swelled and spun in the clearing as the young man tried to conjure the sands of time. "Don't throw your life away."

"I give it. I give my life," the boy panted as the ritual drained him. Harry tried to dismantle or stop the ritual, but he had to be cautious. He didn't want it to explode on him, or destroy the grove, or kill the boy. It might be too late for that. Gods, but he had looked too much like Bellatrix Lestrange when the chase began. Now the color was draining from him. His hair gone white with age, his youthful skin fading and going papery thin, his body shrinking as it was consumed. "Take it! Take me!"

A strong breeze blew through the chaotic magic, bringing fallen Yew needles with it that brushed Harry's skin as they danced on the wind. It was weird enough to make him turn and see the tree looming, growing unnaturally fast to reach into the small clearing. Harry comprehended what he was seeing a moment too late, instinct kicking his legs into a run as the tree grew and the magic pulled until the huge tree overbalanced to fall toward him. The magic of the ritual scraped at him as he darted through it to try and evade the falling tree. In the same moment the boy collapsed and wild, unbound magic from the ritual exploded out in every direction.

Harry didn't feel himself hit the forest floor before it all went dark.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up confused, and unfortunately that confusion only compounded over the next week. He was no longer the robust, muscular man he had been, but back in a stringy looking teenaged body complete with untreated underlying medical issues due to the abuse he'd suffered as a child. An age-line test had been done while he was unconscious that pegged him as newly fifteen years old instead of twenty-five. The healers had done full diagnostics when the Auror department delivered him into their capable hands, and immediately started in on fixing his chronic issues. Mostly that meant vitamin supplements and cleansing baths to support the natural healing process, with some physical therapy and light mental arts to settle his mind and body into a unified state. Rather similar to what had to happen after the horcrux was yanked out of him the first time. There was also rather too many potions meant to stabilize someone experiencing hallucinations due to brain damage.

Nobody believed him when he said he was an auror, or an adult. It was 1975, not 2005, and he'd been caught up in some rather nasty black magic. He was obviously confounded, and required extensive mental healing to reorient himself. He was a child, a victim of that racist vigilante group that had just recently turned violent after a package proposal in the Wizengamot to change how citizenship was defined had failed. Death Meters, or whatever they called themselves. Every test, every spell cast and ritual done, said he was fifteen. They tested his blood, which they had to put him in a full body bind to collect, and when the hospital's test was muddy and uncertain they commissioned a goblin to do it. The goblin records said he was entitled to a vacant account in dispute under the name Peverell. They attached that very old, modestly sized account to the name Harry Jay Peverell so that the hospital could collect a modest fee for the specialty long-term care he was receiving, and provided Harry with a load of old books and journals from that vault that he could use to orient himself to reality and shed the spell-damage induced delusion.

The Potters were the most closely related to the Peverell line, of course, so his confusion over his true name was put down as a confounded attempt to contact his next of kin, while insisting he was an auror was likewise accounted for by having been sent to find help as the youngest son of a large family. Charlus Potter and his wife Dorea came to visit Harry shortly after his lineage was determined. Charlus was a photographer for the Prophet in his late sixties. He reminded Harry quite a bit of Arthur Weasley with how he went on about muggle inventions. Unlike Mr. Weasley, Charlus was focused on how to adapt muggle inventions for use in the magical world, as had been done with cameras and the wireless during his lifetime, and seemed to have bothered to visit some muggle libraries and learn about the sciences directly instead of making guesses based on what he observed from afar. Harry, with his vague understanding of how things like television broadcasts and motor vehicles worked, was able to keep up a lively discussion with the older man. Dorea was born a Black, Harry remembered that from the family tree at Grimmauld. If he remembered correctly, she was at least a decade younger than her husband, and would only live another two years. She told him that the head of the Potter family was Charlus' first cousin Fleamont Potter - which would be Harry's grandfather, though he had given up convincing anyone he was the son of James Potter by then and was careful not to say so. She supposed that Harry was the eventual product of a squib Peverell or Potter that was taken into one of the enclaves. Such people usually pretended to be muggle-born if they left the enclave to avoid any accusations of attempted line theft, but she understood that the secrecy spells had come down hard on him and he hadn't been in his right mind.

Talk of the enclaves and politics dominated the rest of their visit. Small communities of werewolves, squibs or near-squibs, mixed families, and half-humans were all over the wizarding world, both in Greater Albion and on the continent. Many of them had been closed communities well before the Statute of Secrecy was adopted by all European magical communities in 1689, as they had faced greater persecution than the average witch or wizard. The statute and the spells that enforced it were based on those older places hidden under hill. Harry only knew about them as the smallest footnote in his history lessons, and via rumors about farm complexes kept under mass fidelius way out in the countryside. They were the sort of thing everyone in the wizarding world knew about, so it wasn't really covered in classes. The more open squib-friendly enclaves were the first targets of Voldemort's join-or-die campaign once he gave up on getting elected as Minister for Magic, and most of the enclaves in Brittan had been completely destroyed between the two wars against him. In 1975, Voldemort was still just a charismatic politician, though a rapidly failing one. He had no noble seat in the Wizengamot and only just barely gotten one of the commoner's seats via a controversial appointment after a resignation. Charlus was certain someone had been paid off, as the man had come out of nowhere and started throwing around some dangerous ideas left over from after the second Great War.

Dorea was sure he'd lose his election and never be heard from again. None of his proposals, all aimed generally at expanding authoritarian power in the ministry and annexing muggle-held land to create more magical-only neighborhoods, had done more than start heated arguments. A few had been close to passing, but she suspected Voldemort was doing back room deals and would soon run out of political capital or gold to spend. Charlus thought he was an extremist hack being used by the traditionalists - The Oak Party - who didn't want to admit to being blood purists in public and would rather have a commoner as their mouthpiece. He figured Mister Voldemort - which he pronounced with emphasis on the 't' adult Harry had learned should have been silent if the name was meant to be French - had some highly personal ax to grind he was wasting his political capital on, and would soon fall from power since he wasn't proving useful to the people who put him in the Wizengamot. When Harry said Voldemort was the leader of the Death Eaters, Charlus shrugged and said he could be connected to the group, but was likely just a mouthpiece. Charlus had met the man and while he was charismatic and had dangerous ideas, he thought that the self-styled Lord was simply too petty and unyielding to be the man in charge. He wasn't even a real lord, after all, just a pretender with deep pockets. No amount of charisma could make up for the costs or dangers that enacting his proposals would cause, so even if people found his words compelling the majority wasn't willing to fork over the additional taxes to cover construction and security for the proposed neighborhoods. His ideas about abducting muggle-born children and forcing blood tests on them, with adoptions for the worthy and a vague fate after obliviation for the rest were going over like a lead balloon except with the anti-muggle extremists. 

When Harry's minders started talking about arranging schooling for him now that he was well enough to keep track of days and seemed aware of reality, Harry pushed back demanding to take his N.E.W.T.s. That just got him another round of anti-psychotic potions. When he recovered from that and was 'in his right mind' again, Harry asked to be given the junior mediwizard exams instead, arguing that he needed to be able to support himself and was certain he could pass if given the chance. He was brushed off, but through careful persistence the ministry clerk responsible for him gave in. The aurors and healers were all certain he'd fail badly, but it would help him face reality, and then they could get him into a mail-in program for squibs. After all, if he had a sufficient amount of magical power to be a productive member of society, then his name would be in the Book of Admittance at Hogwarts, which would have generated an acceptance letter, and therefore there would be a record filed in the ministry of when he declined to attend. They had him try out a bunch of second-hand wands so he could attempt the practical portion of the test, and the auror overseeing him as he swished through the battered old wands from the ministry vault was certain he wouldn't be able to use a wand at all until one bad match shattered the windows in the room. He ended up being escorted to get a wand at Olivanders, but his old Holly wand hadn't even been offered to him. He'd matched well with a pale Ash wand, though the core was phoenix feather just like his first had been. Olivander waxed poetic about how he and a young Newt Scamander had encountered the bird in the wild, but it had flown off after gifting only a single feather.

After he had a wand, everyone treated him more like a thinking person than an infant or object. Oh, they still disbelieved that he'd been de-aged magically and expected him to fail, but at least they didn't talk down to him as if he wouldn't understand three-syllable words. They had used spells to check his mental age as well as his physical one, and it all came up fifteen. There was absolutely nothing to gain from arguing the point further, except another dose of something strong enough to send him through the looking glass for the rest of the day.

Harry did have trouble remembering the specifics from after his fourth year of school, but he was sure it had been real and not some fever dream. As unlikely as it might be, as much as they assured him it wasn't possible, perhaps his body and mind had been reverted together while he was displaced through time to before his birth. Improbable things hadn't stopped happening to him after Voldemort was defeated. He was "touched by chaos and death" according to Luna, and she'd assured him that that wouldn't ever change with a seer's certainty. So, as unlikely as it was, it wasn't impossible by Harry's account no matter what anyone told him. He found himself having the same frustrated hormonal outbursts he'd had the first time he was fifteen, though given his situation he thought he was entitled to a few screaming fits, so there was some undeniable evidence to support the idea that he was really, properly fifteen again. While the details were hazy, it wasn't as if his memories didn't have a logical progression. It might sound impossible that he'd stolen from Gringotts on dragonback, but he remembered all the practical parts of doing it and why it had worked out the way it did. Dreams didn't make logical sense like that, at least not in the light of day when you were trying to explain it to another person.

The aurors maintained that he was just confounded and wasn't from the future, but he thought that he'd gotten a visit from an unspeakable the week after Charlus and Dorea came by. By then he was well versed in all the 'correct' answers that wouldn't get him dosed with something that sent him to Wonderland, and had the fresh lesson of the fight to take the N.E.W.T. exams to encourage him to toe the line, so he was fairly certain the unspeakable thought he's wasted his afternoon. If they had gotten to him first he wasn't sure what would have happened, but he didn't fancy being some unspeakable's pet project or lab rat.

Everyone, including Harry himself, was startled when Harry aced the junior mediwizard exam with a perfect score. He hadn't thought he'd been good enough on the emergency triage hierarchy questions, though the first aid section had been a breeze, and the practical section had felt hit and miss. He'd bent the Sano spell, which was a bit like the old method of laying on hands, to handle some of the problems the lab rats had that he didn't know a specific charm or transfiguration for. Episkey was fine for minor lacerations, and he could conjure a splint for a long bone fracture, and the "throw a bezoar at it" method of countering poison or unwanted potion effects in a hurry hadn't felt as perfect a solution as the examiners thought it was, but he hadn't been able to diagnose all the rats and wasn't sure how to fix it when one of the rats had a leg chopped off with a clever. It would seem keeping it alive until the timer ran out counted as a rousing success, even if it died while he was treating the burnt one by frantically chanting Sano until the spell blended into one long undulating hiss of healing magic.

He really hoped those were conjured rats.

The little pin he was given along with the exam results, a silver caduceus rather than the bronze one given to those who'd passed with a score below eighty percent, was something he'd planned to wear on the collar of his auror robes. Hermione had originally thought that it was an error, that this symbol of the Messanger God with two snakes around a winged staff really ought to be the Rod of Asclepius, the god of medicine. Muggles used the rod with one snake most of the time, but for once Harry got to correct her about the difference in symbolism. Mediwizards, especially junior mediwizards who had some other day job like magizoologists and aurors, were not healers and should not display a healer's symbol. They were fast, accurate messengers or simple apothecary brewers. They were either directly or metaphorically sent by healers to provide emergency and basic first aid support, or would deliver patients to a hospital. As an auror, it made him the equivalent of an army medic. Would have made. Whatever. Some muggle ambulances had the caduceus on them, and so did some A&E offices, though it was rare. A mortar and pestle was the common symbol for chemist's shops, but general apothecaries used that and specialists used a cauldron with a symbol on it instead. Caduceus for medical potions, a horseshoe for farm supply, a hairbrush for beauty products, and so on. Hermione was correct that nearly all doctors in the muggle U.K. used the Rod of Asclepius the same as St. Mungos did, but it was a protected symbol only for places with fully trained and equipped healers at the ready on the magical side of things. There was even a special spell active across all of Albion that would help anyone seeking medical care reach the nearest magical place that displayed the single snake and rod symbol by focusing on only that symbol while apperating, and a hefty fine for putting or leaving one up in a place where there wasn't an immediately available healer.

There was another test, which he'd have to take at least once every thirteen years to maintain his certification, that could get him a gold pin. If he studied hard, if he wanted to go for it, he might even earn the single-snake staff and wear St. Mungo's lime green instead of auror red one day. To have all these people talking to him about career options and never breathe a single word about the auror's office felt surreal, but the healers taking care of him made it seem like there was a shortage of qualified healers brewing that would only get worse as the younger women left work to become mothers for a couple decades and the high percentage of older people in the profession retired. The job market would be far better than the path to becoming an auror or private-eye even for someone half-trained. It felt so weird to have the option. McGonagall had practically told him he was going to be an auror, and it seemed like his whole life had been one inevitable step after another toward a career of hunting dark wizards. Now it seemed like every day some old man or woman came in and started explaining some niche job or specialist position in the medical field that he'd never known existed.

But none of those things he remembered doing had happened, had they? He'd been pitched into the past, so far that his parents were now about the same age he was. He'd be in the long term care ward for a while yet, but once he got out he'd have an entire life ahead of him with no guardrails or expectations. It was 1975, and the season had turned from summer to autumn while he was recovering and adjusting. He wasn't famous. The lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead had faded so much it once again looked like the rune Eihwaz instead of forking lightning, as it had after the war, but was otherwise completely nonmagical and uninteresting to the healers. He wasn't tied to Voldemort, he wasn't having any disturbing vision-dreams, the first war with Voldemort and the Death Eaters was only just kicking off, and Harry could do anything he wanted. Within reason and sticking to a slim budget, but it was more freedom than he'd ever had as a teenager. Even when he had first graduated, he hadn't really had any choice for how to live his life, where he was expected to be, or what he was meant to be doing. His life had been on rails, and now he was completely free.

The official records, since the people writing them disbelieved the truth, listed him as the only surviving member of a large family enclave that used to be hidden between the expanding suburbs of southern England. He'd lived with a neglectful squib aunt and an abusive uncle after someone - likely the werewolf Greyback who was more feared than the Death Eaters at the moment - killed his parents. When the abuse was discovered by a half-giant in the community, he was taken in by a cousin with seven kids that could only just barely afford one more at the table. He'd been home schooled, with an advanced but not comprehensive curriculum, and would require remedial work before he could join his peers at Hogwarts. The name Harry Jay Peverell had been found in the Book of Admittance, written at the very bottom of the list of people invited to be part of the class of 1978. They assumed his enclave had been old enough that it had not been considered part of Greater Albion, and that was why he hadn't been on the list until after he'd left and performed strong magic. He was currently a ward of the magical government of Greater Albion, which contained the magical communities of the muggle United Kingdom, Ireland, Greenland, and Iceland. There was a contested group of Nordic islands scattered about the North Sea called the UVO that Norway, Sweden, and Denmark thought ought to belong to those Norse magical governments, and that conflict was the headline political turmoil of the day that had stretched over a couple decades since the Second Great War. The islands had turned to Albion for protection from the great wars when their original countries had left their fishing boats at the mercy of muggle naval power, and Harry realized that secrecy and muggle-repelling spells of that magnitude and scope were something of a specialty of his country. Exactly how they worked and why they worked so well was a magically held secret that only citizens of Albion could know, and even if a foreigner came here and read the books they wouldn't be able to remember it, which was quite an amazing bit of spellwork itself.

Just because Voldemort wasn't running around killing people left and right didn't mean that all was well in the magical world. Part of getting Harry to accept that he really was in 1975 was essentially a civics tutor coming to teach him about recent history. The modern maps of magical nations in 2005 had looked a lot more like the muggle ones than the 1970's maps did, though few borders were exactly where the muggle ones were unless there was an ocean or major river to draw them along. Nationalism had been seeping over from the muggle side to pressure magical Europe's governments in greater and greater amounts, threatening to shatter the larger empires wizards still had into smaller pieces for a couple generations now.

The International Confederation of Wizards was just barely holding things together at the moment. The French Coalition of Free Wizards - a democratic republic that had held onto quite a lot of colonies compared to the muggle or magical English - and The Grand Wendish Empire - a Slavic monarchy that had held what Harry knew as muggle Poland and Romania for generations now - are the dominant powers on the continent, with Germany and Denmark as a single nation wedged between them that had been falling apart at the seams over the last five years. It was expected to shatter into at least two countries before the end of the current calendar year and possibly be absorbed into France - and with how his tutor tacked on the word 'again' he figured that patch of land had spent more time as part of some larger kingdom than not since the Holy Roman emperor Charlamagne died and split his kingdom into three. Italy and Spain were rising in power as their economies recovered from WWII on both sides of the magical divide, Magical Portugal had some ongoing mess where someone was trying to claim to be the rightful king and bin the assassination-prone democratic system, and the Greeks were generally trying and failing to stay out of what the middle eastern nations had been fighting about for the last millennium or three.

Harry knew that the muggle maps of the 1970's were quite different from their 2005 counterparts too, he vaguely remembered the fall of the Berlin wall and that the USSR went to pieces. When Albion is consumed by civil war and all the internal problems a Dark Lord on the rise can cause, there will be no help to be had from the continent because of all that. The cold wars in both the magical and muggle worlds will spark and fracture along the tension lines, causing different but similar problems across the entire continent. The Berlin Wall would eventually fall in the late 80's on the muggle side, and the current travel restrictions were bothering witches and wizards there. The Wendish Empire would fracture into four Slavic and Baltic nations when the sons of their current monarch insist on splitting their holdings instead of agreeing on which of them would be Emperor, ending up with democratically elected parliaments as the brotherly pissing contest anger the people into demanding reform. The population of Europe in general would be too busy putting out local fires to be concerned with anything going on outside of their own sphere, and Voldemort wouldn't be the only Dark Lord type trying to make hay while the sun shines.

All of that was in the future, now. None of that might happen, or all of it could. Harry had never felt so small, so insignificant. It didn't matter that he knew how the future may go. Perhaps Cassandra's curse had extended to cover him, for all who had certain knowledge of the future would be called mad if they tried to explain it to others. None would believe him, he'd tried it and failed. Even if they did, there was no guarantee that Harry's advice and forewarning would change much.

Merlin, but he didn't want to track down the horcruxes again, especially alone. That would have to be a problem for later. First, he had to get out of St. Mungo's long term spell damage ward.

Chapter Text

This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. As Severus hung upside-down, he regretted what he'd said, but she'd been smiling at them! Smiling at what Black, Potter, and Pettigrew were doing to him, just because she thought Potter was handsome! Lily was supposed to be his friend. His one real friend, and she'd seen him so weak and helpless and hadn't even drawn her wand. How could she just smile like that at Potter while he was being humiliated? Why wouldn't she ever do something to help? Did she really think asking nicely would work? It never had before, they just waited for her to leave and if he couldn't get away they'd have their fun anyway. They always seemed able to find him these days, it was relentless, and he didn't understand why they could suddenly track him down. He'd checked all his things for tracking charms twice.

He didn't really mean to call her a mudblood, he was just so angry at her high holy attitude lately, and at Black for trying to feed him to a werewolf, and at Lestrange for tearing through his school things, and how he couldn't seem to get rid of his spots, and he had run out of money and soap because he'd needed to buy ink, and he had to ace his exams or Slughorn wouldn't help him pay for the advanced textbooks for the classes Ma never took. Now Lily was just abandoning him to be these sadist's plaything, and he couldn't even blame her after he said that. She had to know they weren't bluffing, that they really would pull his pants off, that they'd stripped him down and ruined his clothes before...

"Evanesco!"

Severus howled in pain loud enough he couldn't make out what jokes the assholes were making about his body. That wasn't the right sort of spell to undress someone, and it scraped his skin and pulled hair from sensitive areas as his pants weren't just removed but unmade. There would be no mending them after, now. Evanesco wasn't reversible.

"Bombarda."

The quiet spell sent an icy chill of fear through him, and he whimpered in expectation of his naked lower body being hit with the bombardment curse, but then he only fell on his head as other voices cried out in alarm. It took a moment for Severus to sit up and fight his robe down out of his face, and then he assessed the situation. Standing slightly in front and to his left was someone in cheap tan robes with a walking stick in his left hand and his wand aimed toward a great hole between Severus and the heap where his tormentors had been. The ground was torn up, sod and soil blown by the spell to cover Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, who were laying dazed and groaning under an inch or so of mess. Aiming the curse at their feet meant they weren't bludgeoned by the spell, so they probably hadn't broken any bones, though Severus worried that his wand had been lost in the scattered debris. The stranger set his walking stick in the crook of his arm, his stance a rock-solid dueling pose Severus had practiced in a mirror but hadn't quite mastered.

"Accio wands," the same quiet, cold voice said as the stranger's wand swished through the air. It was a rather longer than average wand made of some light-colored wood. A collection of wands flew out of the pile of boys, sod, and dirt. The stranger caught them all with quick, darting hands. He turned to look at Severus and he had just enough time to think that the stranger looked a bit like if James Potter grew out his hair before he was captured by the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. They couldn't be natural, shining like emeralds in the sun. "Are you injured?"

"It's fine," Severus said automatically. The stranger tilted his head and pointed at the neckline of his robes with his left hand. His neck was thinner, and he seemed much more delicately built than Potter even if the face had a strong resemblance.

"Certified junior mediwizard, and you don't sound terribly sure about that. Which wand is yours?" the stranger said. The ruthlessness had melted from his tone. Severus levered himself off the ground on unsteady legs and reached out for his black walnut wand. The perfect cylinder of the shaft slid comfortably into his hand, a sense of relief at no longer being unarmed and helpless washing over him. Just in time, as the dazed and dirt-covered assholes were getting up.

"Are you trying to fucking kill us?" Black screeched, still spitting soil out of his mouth.

"Nothing less than a pack of rapists deserves," the stranger said. "No permanent injuries, and I only made you as filthy on the outside as your morals suggest you are inside."

"What?" Potter asked, still blinking around on the ground, feeling for his glasses.

"Don't try to sugar coat it, I saw you pick him up from the window. What's wrong with you? The whole lot of you, even," the stranger asked, turning to include the people who had been watching. Severus caught sight of Regulus Black trying to hide behind a bush, and the young MacNair girl, though the second-year looked scared and lost among the older students. "Are you all so unpleasant that you can't find anybody willing to help you get off? They sell magazines for that, you sick fucks."

"Mr. Peverell, language!" Professor Sprout said as she hurried down the hill. The little glade near the lake wasn't easily seen from the castle. Severus was relatively certain the only way to see them was to be on the left-hand side of the third floor, which was completely disused.

"I've interrupted a rape, ma'am, some strong language seems appropriate," the stranger, Peverell, said. He stood tall and confident, though he'd stuffed the wands in a pocket so he could lean a little on the walking stick. Severus remembered seeing him around now, sitting all the way in the front corner of the O.W.L. exams. He'd heard some people saying he was home schooled. Severus was rather embarrassed, but Sprout was probably the best teacher to have found them. McGonagall would assume he started it, Slughorn wouldn't really punish the upper class boys, and Flitwick would try and get them all to apologize to each other as if they were all at fault.

"Oh, where is the poor girl?" Professor Sprout said, looking around. The people who had been eagerly watching were all slinking off, trying not to be noticed.

"These three," Peverell said, pointing at Pettigrew, Black, and Potter, "stripped a male classmate using a vanishing spell, after choking him enough to weaken him so he couldn't fight back."

"A... a male?" Sprout asked, her gaze drifting over to Severus.

"Please don't tell me you are the sort who thinks boys can't get raped," Peverell muttered. "That would be just the perfect end to this shit day."

"Language," Sprout scolded again. "Mr. Snape seems fully clothed."

"They flipped me upside down so my robe came up over my head and vanished my pants," Severus said to the ground. His chest was wet from where he'd spit suds, and his lower body felt exposed and raw even with the robe covering him to the ankle again.

"We weren't going to touch him," Black said, sounding repulsed by the idea.

"There were two prefects here, I think, who weren't doing their jobs," Peverell said. He pointed off behind the ruined bit of lawn. "There, that's the boy, the one with the scars hiding behind a textbook, and there was a red-haired girl flirting with the one that had glasses on. They were both involved." Lupin was up the hill enough he hadn't been covered in dirt, but he must have been watching for professors coming from the main entrance of the castle and not from the greenhouses. Severus wasn't sure how Peverell had come from that direction, it didn't make sense.

"Snape called Evans a mudblood," Potter accused, giving up looking for his glasses among the churned up soil.

"Are you trying to say that something that happened after you'd started to strip him is the reason you did this?" Peverell said sharply. "Unless you are in a time loop, that's rather weak."

"You heard it?" Sprout asked.

"I saw most of it, reminded me of when Death Eaters attacked my home, to be honest. It started with, er, sorry, what was your name?"

"Severus Snape," Severus said, his stomach doing a bit of a flip when those shining eyes locked on his. There was something in the way Peverell looked at him that was just different. The stranger turned to face Sprout, fiddling with the twin-serpent pin he wore to draw attention to it.

"I was a distance away, and I can't move very fast with my leg. It started when Snape was sitting under the tree, not bothering anyone. These three came at him, had him disarmed and choking on foam almost before he noticed they were coming for him, and I started on my way over. Some things were said I couldn't hear. I was still too far away, but I saw the red-haired girl, you said her name was Evans? She came over and started talking with them during that, seemed to be smiling about it all, so I don't think she was helping anything even if they did drop Snape on the ground for a moment there. That's when Snape called her that name. I'd never use that word for fear of my mother rising from the grave to whip me, but I really don't know what they were saying before that, and it's still no reason to strip someone like that. Personally, I wonder that there were a dozen people watching, including at least one prefect and there didn't seem any point in yelling for help. Not that he could have for most of it, given how he couldn't take a proper breath with all those pink suds choking him, but still. That seems the more important thing to me, as an outsider," Peverell said, in roughly the same tone that Madam Pomphrey used when describing injuries. Severus wondered if that kind of rapid, clear speech was part of healer training. "I used bombarda on the lawn to put an end to it all as fast as I could. They were clearly going to go further, and using evanesco on someone's clothing is downright cruel."

"I see. What do you three gentlemen have to say for yourselves?" Sprout said, turning toward the Gryffindors. Peverell stepped up to Severus and lifted his wand.

"Just a quick diagnostic, if you don't mind. You look terrible," Peverell murmured. Snape nodded, keeping his attention on the smoothly delivered excuses Potter and Black were trying to make. Though, Potter seemed more concentrated on explaining that Lily wasn't any part of it and needed defending from Severus' attention first and foremost.

"He wasn't just sitting there, he was being creepy to the girls. They were sitting closer to the lake and he was hiding here by the tree to watch them," Black added on, and Potter eagerly latched onto the idea to back him up. Severus felt the faint hope Peverell had given him snuff out. Mary Macdonald had gone to Pomphrey with bruises and refused to say who had hurt her a couple times now, and a lot of girls were complaining that the hem of their robes would start floating up in the hallways even when no one seemed to be around. Lily was right, it was probably Mulciber. They'd had a row about Severus being polite to the pure-blood elitist, but Lily was just as polite to Lupin and Pettigrew during classes and kept saying things like 'he's awful, but at least Potter is nice to look at' as if that was any excuse for the way the rich ponce acted. In any case, it seemed like Severus was a convenient scapegoat at the moment, and might be blamed for the recent wave of harassment on top of everything else he had to deal with.

"I'd never touch any of the girls," Severus grumbled under his breath, feeling too dejected to really defend himself. It wasn't like anyone would listen. Mulciber certainly wouldn't come forward to save his hide, but maybe he could twist it around and make sure his dormmates owed him for taking the heat.

"Oh, uh, you play for the other team?" Peverell asked. Severus snapped his head around to look at the slightly taller boy, but the sharp denial died on his tongue at the look in those green eyes. Like he was interested, like Severus was worth his time and attention, like Lily used to look at him back before her dormmates convinced her that some magic was dangerous even just to think about. "You're not fine, by the way. Anemia, low blood sugar, low D, and your C is so low you're at risk for scurvy so it isn't just that you need more sunlight, some signs of insomnia, and the abrasion from the vanishing spell needs to be cleaned soonish or you'll risk a skin infection in the worst possible place for it."

"That's my business," Severus said, bristling at the idiot for publicly talking about his health like that. There were still nosy busybodies milling about.

"You are a trauma victim, I am first on the scene. This pin and those diagnostic results say I get to haul you off to the nearest fully qualified healer for a comprehensive exam unless a responsible adult says otherwise," Peverell said louder with a bright obnoxious smile.

"Was there some significant injury?" Sprout asked, having clearly missed most of their exchange while listening to the other boys imply he was the real problem and they were just defending the honor of the Gryffindor girls by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Chronic illness, more like, but bad enough I'm duty-bound by oath," Peverell said, sounding genuinely concerned. "I'm surprised Snape was setting up to study under the tree instead of just taking a nap or going to the infirmary, he's a bit of a wreck. I find Black's insinuation that he could have recently overpowered anybody pretty laughable. Also, three on one - four if you count the prefect lookout - against someone who can hardly stand isn't just overkill, it's spineless on top of being the wrong way to handle the whole thing. If they think they know who has been lifting girl's skirts without their consent that's something they should report to the staff, isn't it?"

"I've never bothered Macdonald, and any guy going after Fortescue would have to be insane," Severus said to Professor Sprout. "You can ask them yourself, if you want."

"Did you use that horrible slur against Miss Evans?" she asked, disappointment radiating from sad eyes beneath her twig-covered hat.

"Yes, but I didn't mean it. I shouldn't have said it at all, I know, but, well, she was standing there without even her wand out to help and I was, I was...," Severus said in a rush. "It just came out. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Professor Sprout scolded.

"I know, ma'am."

"I'll have to take points, I think only five will do given the circumstances. As for you three, I think detention, both Saturday and Sunday as a start," Sprout said sharply.

"I still have their wands," Peverell said, pulling them out of his pocket. Instead of offering them up, he started casting spells on them. Wispy images of the last several spells cast by each wand puffed out of them.

"That's an auror's spell," Professor Sprout said, clearly impressed. Then her eyes narrowed as she realized what she was looking at.

The spells poured out in reverse order to how they'd been cast from Potter and then Black's wands, but one after another instead of with the original timing. Thankfully, the echo of the vanishing spell that came out of Potter's wand first only showed an empty pair of pants dissolving into nothing and not anything more. It was bad enough watching a tiny Severus getting hung upside-down and the cleaning charm filling his disembodied mouth with acrid bubbles. The three idiots objected loudly, trying to stop him from casting on Black and Pettigrew's wands as soon as the pants appeared, but Peverell was quick enough they couldn't stop the ghostly incriminating images spilling out of all three wands. Severus had expected Pettigrew's wand to show something from the charms practical this morning, since he hadn't actually done anything but watch, but instead the ghostly image of a pair of fancy heeled shoes and lacy green hosiery under the hem of a student robe appeared. The hem of the robe covering most of the legs lifted up until the fancy tops of the knee-high hold-ups showed. Peverell's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "Well, I never," Sprout huffed out, as upset as Severus had ever seen her. "Who was it that you three were just accusing of going up people's robes, when you've done it to two people today?"

"Can I take him to the infirmary now, ma'am?" Peverell interjected.

"Yes, yes, you go on and do what must be done," she dismissed, taking the wands. "Mr. Black, Mr. Pettigrew, please help Mr. Potter since his glasses are missing. All three of you are coming with me, straight up to the headmaster's office."

Severus grabbed his messenger bag, shoving his belongings back inside. He hadn't even noticed it had been upended when he'd been flipped. Peverell leaned on his walking stick and used silent magic to float stray items closer so Severus could pack up more efficiently. The charcoal sticks he used to sketch, his last good quill, a library book about Runes that was a shade or three darker than the curriculum, and the battered leather case that was meant to be part of a potions kit but made a nice way to hide cigarettes. He walked with Peverell, keeping him between Severus and the other boys.

"So, er, I'm Harry Peverell. Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances," the strange person in tan said. Those shining green eyes were set in a face that on a second look wasn't as blocky as James Potter's, but certainly implied some kind of relation. The nose was completely wrong, and the jaw wasn't as square, but the lips and general shape of his head was close enough. Wild, loose curls tumbled down to Peverell's shoulders from under a battered looking pointed hat. It wasn't the artful mess meant to look like he'd just gotten off a broom or rolled out of bed that Potter obsessed over, but instead just looked like the curls had been shoved out of the way of his face.

"I'm glad you stopped them," Severus admitted. "I can't imagine what they would have done next."

"They... I might be sick if I think about it too much, honestly. That little shit had that spell as his last cast, and they were in the process of molesting you, and they tried to say you were the one going around peeping. I'm glad I have my own room with a sturdy lock for the exams," Peverell said.

"Why are you here?" Severus asked, twitching a bit as he heard the bluntness of his own words. He held his folded arms closer to his chest. "I meant, if you're a certified mediwizard already why are you taking your O.W.L.s again?"

"I'm only fifteen," Peverell said, blushing a little. "I was home schooled and then I was in hospital for about six months. I'm the last survivor of a Death Eater raid. The whole village was burnt down, it's a long story."

"I thought they only went after, you know, certain people," Severus said cautiously. "You seem pretty capable, and you'd have to be really skilled and from a respectable family to get a certification so young. Those fees are steep, and the ministry charges double if you don't have the right N.E.W.T. scores for any of the certification exams." Severus had turned sixteen last January, so he was at least a few months older than Peverell.

"It was a rural enclave that welcomed squibs, barely more than a crossroads and an orchard. We weren't hurting anyone, we weren't involved in national politics at all, just a closed community with a lot of people who were half one thing and half something else," Peverell said, his eyes going unfocused as he looked across the lawn. "Not that we were perfect. My aunt was a squib, and she and her muggle husband were awful enough to me a half-giant neighbor noticed. You don't argue with an angry half-giant, he bent my uncle's shotgun with one hand like a cartoon character."

"I... My roommates said some things," Severus started to say, but he came up short in a way he hadn't when talking to Lily. Severus hadn't known anyone who had lost family to the attacks, and Mulciber made it out like they were only going after people who were working to hurt the cause or were a drain on society the way Da was with his constant drinking. Peverell didn't fit that at all. "They offered to protect me. Said that I could earn my place on merit if I joined them and worked hard."

"Didn't see anyone like that stepping up for you, just that girl with the red and gold satin scarf," Peverell pointed out, his voice gone a bit frosty.

"That's true," Severus had to say. Regulus had been right there, and he'd been the most enthusiastic about his 'favorite tutor' giving up on his friendship with Lily to join the Dark Lord. There had been whispers in the dorms for years, but ever since the ministry chucked Lord Voldemort out of the Wizengamot due to a bunch of unprovable claims the debates had gotten a lot more heated and the news from outside the school became much, much more violent. "Lily and I, I mean that girl Evans that told them to stop, we've been friends for ages. Lately we've had some arguments about my dorm mates, and she's been saying the whole house is just evil and it's infecting me, but she won't admit that that lot in Gryffindor aren't any better. I keep telling her it's the exact same thing."

"That's a false equivalence if I ever heard one. I think the cannibals are worse than some nasty schoolboys with a penchant for sexual assault, even if both are horrid and any decent person wouldn't associate with either," Peverell said. Severus froze in his track.

"Cannibals?"

"It's in the name. Death Eater. They kill and ritualistically eat muggle-borns or other people they deem unworthy to have magic. Supposedly, they do it to take back stolen magic and revitalize the old bloodlines. Which is total crap, the old lines are messed up due to inbreeding and it's as obvious as the physical deformity and miscarriage rates. All the most powerful wizards around are half-bloods, meaning fresh blood was added to the old gene pool to wake it up and get it sparking again. Good or bad you have both Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and then most of the big name inventions of the last fifty years were all done by half-bloods, and if you really think of it a lot of the big name pure-bloods that have been running businesses are just rich enough to hire other people to..." Peverell finally noticed Severus had stopped following and turned those lamplight eyes on him again. "You really didn't know?" Severus shook his head. Peverell cast a spell at him, which he twitched away from after it had already hit him.

"Alright," Peverell said, his voice shifting to a gentle tone, "so you're experiencing an adrenaline crash, and that was rather blunt of me to say. Poor form to throw a shock like that at you when you aren't in great shape already, so," Peverell conjured a stretcher, "you just sit down and enjoy the ride, yeah? I'll take care of you from here."

Severus sat, unwilling to make himself vulnerable by laying down despite feeling horrible as the stretcher floated him along. He had known, really, that Lily was right about the Death Eaters, but she had just stopped listening to his side of things sometime over the summer and wouldn't allow for any sort of compromise. What was he supposed to do, piss off his roommates? No matter what spells he might put on his bed, he had to sleep in there with them. Besides, they weren't going out doing those things right now, they were just talking about politics and how to improve the wizarding world. A lot of it was racist, sure, but was it really worse than what Potter, Black, and Pettigrew were doing? Avery said exceptions could be made, and he was pretty sure Mulciber properly fancied Macdonald, even if he was being weird about it since he couldn't freely admit he liked a muggle-born girl. It didn't make it right, but at a bare minimum Pettigrew was clearly doing the same shit!

But if becoming a Death Eater meant not just condoning but participating in cannibalism? If that's what they were alluding to by saying there was a test of loyalty and dedication that would make his magic stronger if he made it through? Some of the things Regulus said about muggles not being any better than pigs suddenly took on a much more horrifying meaning. That was beyond wrong, it was depraved. Muggles might not be as good as wizards, but that just couldn't be what they meant when they compared muggles to animals. Could it?

Severus didn't do much beyond answer questions about his health in as few words as possible when they got to the infirmary. He endured being cleaned up and then a lecture about eating better, but it wasn't like he wanted to skip so many meals. Stuffing roasted meat into a dinner roll to take out of the Great Hall was the fastest way to get a lot of calories so he wasn't starving later. The Gryffindors made it hard to do anything predictable, and meal times were as predictable as anything could possibly be. Not that he said any of that. He'd just be scolded for not taking personal responsibility. He was prescribed a couple potions, which would be delivered to him at mealtimes and the healer would track him down if he missed even one dose, so he'd have to show up for them.

"Madam Pomphrey, could Snape come eat with me tonight?" Peverell asked, startling Severus out of his inner turmoil.

"He is old enough to feed himself in the Great Hall," the matron insisted.

"Of course, but with my leg and all the stairs, and the fact that I don't really know anyone or belong to a house, I'm shut up in my room pretty much all the time. Not that it isn't a nice room, and I understand why I can't be sorted until the start of term when I'm properly enrolled, but still. It's a bit lonely being shut up by myself all day outside of exams, and the house elves will be delivering food up to me anyway," Peverell said, looking a bit nervous.

"Have you been taking all your meals in your room?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes," Peverell admitted, shuffling his feet. "I went into the Great Hall the first day for lunch, but there wasn't anywhere for me to sit, so I just went back up to the room and sat where my breakfast had shown up. Lunch appeared just the same, so I've just been going back up and staying there whenever I'm not taking an exam. I didn't think I was allowed to be anywhere else."

"Weren't you shown around? Given directions to the library at least?" she asked, her nose scrunching up and her brows furrowing as Peverell shook his head.

"Just in the main door and up to my rooms on Sunday night," he confirmed. "I had to ask the portraits the way to the exams that first morning, and used them and a point me spell to find the infirmary just now."

"Of all the ridiculous things to overlook," she huffed. "And after what you've been though besides."

"Snape's had a rough day too, and it isn't any more work for the elves," Peverell turned to include Severus, "if you want to, that is. I think we could both use the quiet after all that."

"I need to apologize to Lily," Severus said.

"Too right, but you are in poor enough health I'm tempted to keep you overnight," the matron threatened. "So, you go with Peverell and eat a proper meal, and if you don’t, I'll drag you back in here by your ear to be certain. Then, you can go apologize and I want to see the both of you at breakfast tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you in the Great Hall at seven sharp to get you settled. No excuses."

"Yes, ma'am," Severus said dutifully.

"Thank you," Peverell said right after.

Peverell was staying in the disused part of the third floor. As they walked across the school, Peverell made Severus promise not to mention he'd hopped out the window to stop what was happening out on the lawn by the lake. Severus did, but demanded a full explanation as compensation.

"I'm supposed to be taking it easy, but it looked so much like a Death Eater attack I panicked a bit. I lost everyone I ever knew last summer, and I don't think I'll ever really get over it," Peverell said, leaning on the wall just out of sight of the main stairwell. They'd gone up to the second floor before Peverell slipped on a trick stair and seemed to crumple, so Severus had pulled him through the archway into the second-floor hallway with the perpetually flooded toilet so he could lean in the nook made where the arch met the wall. Severus thought he heard something when Peverell mentioned the Death Eaters, but he didn't see anyone going up the stair when he poked his head out of the archway. "I was sure that was what I was seeing, the Death Eaters play with people like that before they kill them, so I cast a cushioning charm on the ground and a featherlight on myself and jumped right out the window, arms and legs spread so my robes and cloak would slow my fall. Floated down like a leaf."

"I really appreciate it. Lily's always saying I should stop provoking Black and Potter, and that means I need to stop talking to Avery and Mulciber. Even if that would work, and they were coming after me even before Avery would give me the time of day, I don't see how I have much choice there. They are my dorm mates, and it's just the three of us so it's impossible to avoid them entirely. If I cut them off, I wouldn't have anyone but Lily to talk to, and she told me back in third year I'm not supposed to approach her when she's with any other girls, and last year she said not to talk to her in public, and now I can't even sit with her in the library..."

"Sounds unfair," Peverell cut him off. "I've had to live with racist idiots, my muggle uncle thought the witch burnings were the right call, and sometimes you just have to play along to avoid getting stomped on worse than you're already being. So long as that's all it is?" The expectant look was something he had endured from Lily plenty of times, but those eyes. Merlin, he must be sick with how the world seemed to tilt and melt away to nothing when he looked straight into them.

"They're all rich, I'm lucky to have two knuts to my name all term, and my Da's a muggle, so I don't... I mean... They pretend, or say I'm one of the good ones because I get top grades and they want me to tutor them and all, but I don't think they actually care. I pretend too, just to keep them happy and leaving me alone, but I do know better than to trust it completely. I have had to, you know, talk like them sometimes, and it just slipped out today because I was, you know, and she was just standing there smiling at them, and it isn't fair because I'm not really mad at her just... it's been a lot, and I guess I've been sick and didn't notice how bad. I'm going to have to beg Lily on my knees to forgive me for what I said to her. She's my only real friend," Severus admitted. He'd thought it was the same as how he covered up his accent so he didn't sound like he was from the gutter of a black country town, but then it had spewed out of his mouth in the worst way. "I know some people think I fancy her. Potter sure does, he's come after me telling me that he's going to marry her and I need to back off and let him have her or else, well, I suppose you get the idea."

"But you don't fancy Evans?" Peverell asked, his eyes widening. They were already so big, and so bright, and now that they were indoors Severus thought they must be lit from within. He had said the community he came from was all half something, and mentioned a half-giant, so it wasn't impossible the vibrant spring green was an inhuman trait. Severus licked his lips, his body tense with his arms tucked up and his hands folded in front of his collar to try and hold in his nerves.

"No. I just don't want her to get hurt or used by a toerag like Potter or Black. The way he was talking, I wouldn't put it past Potter to get her into trouble, you know, girl trouble, just to get her to agree to marry him quick. Guess I was worried about the wrong idiot, though, with that spell you pulled out of Pettigrew's wand. That was sick," Severus said, the disgust breaking through whatever Peverell's eyes were doing to him.

"It was low, accusing you of harassing the girls when it was them doing it, especially after they'd just done the same to you. I'm just glad the spell was still in there, Priori doesn't go back more than four no matter how perfectly you cast it, so if he'd done much of anything after we'd have never known. Well, it only goes back four so long as you stop short of damaging the wand permanently, anyway," Peverell shrugged. "Sorry, I know you're really sick and I'm supposed to be helping with that instead of loitering here yapping, I just... my leg is throbbing."

"Did you hurt yourself jumping down to help me?" Severus asked, stepping forward. People didn't welcome him in their personal space, generally. Not that he often wanted anyone in his, either.

"No, but I probably did when I was jogging over, and then that trick stair tried to eat my cane. I just need another minute or three." Out of the corner of his eye, Severus caught some movement. He turned and saw Mary Macdonald and Alice Fortescue step into the hallway.

"Um, we couldn't help but overhear," Fortescue started. She was dating Frank Longbottom, a seventh year who would happily render anyone who dared bother his girl into a fine paste. Her skirt had gone up and showed off her knickers to the entire class a month ago, and Longbottom was just shy of breaking out in scales and breathing dragon fire over it. Severus was sure to stay well out of her space, backing away closer to Peverell. "Are you saying you caught the boy who has been lifting up girl's robes red handed?" Severus looked at Peverell, who seemed to have gone suddenly shy and gave Severus a pleading look.

"When Potter, Black, and Pettigrew's wands were checked after they attacked me earlier, Pettigrew's wand said he lifted a girl's robe to look at her bits today, well, at least at her legs up to the top of her hose," Severus told the girls. "Professor Sprout was there for it, and looked ready to turn them into compost, last I saw them."

"If he was at a lower angle, either sitting in a shadow or if it was done near any of the thousand stairs in this castle, he'd have seen a lot more," Peverell added, his nose scrunching up. It looked kind of cute, and Severus really needed to stop thinking that sort of thing about him.

"I've been telling Lily they aren't any better than Mulciber for ages," Severus said, fully aware he was pouting. "She keeps saying it's not the same, but, well they are, at least for this." Mary had gone very pale, the small girl ghostlike under her freckles.

"Pettigrew does the same things Mulciber does?" she asked.

"It seems that way," Peverell said.

"Who are you, anyway?" Fortescue said, stepping in front of her friend, who seemed about to faint.

"Harry Peverell, home-schooled, half-blood survivor of a Death Eater attack, last of my name here to take my O.W.L. exams. I took the junior mediwizard exam to prove I wasn't a squib, long story, and aced it, but I'm still only fifteen so the ministry sent me here to get properly tested. I've been out of hospital for a little while, but my one leg is taking its sweet time getting back to normal after too much bedrest. We talked Madam Pomphrey into cutting us loose, but on the promise we'd look after each other and eat a proper supper of whatever the house elves deliver to my guest room. Neither of us should really be out and about, to be honest, but we've got more masculine pride than good sense I suppose."

"Oi," Severus objected, looking back at Peverell. Which was a mistake, because as soon as he looked into the other boy's eyes he stopped feeling mad.

"Do you need us to get her?" Fortescue asked.

"Could you two help us get to my rooms instead?" Peverell asked, pointing toward the stairs. "No funny business, I promise. I'm as bent as a nine-speed walking stick, and I think it goes without saying that Snape here believes in informed consent given everything that’s happened."

The four of them walked together, with Fortescue the only one that wasn't flagging. Peverell stopped at a portrait of a stern looking man with entirely too much forehead, nearly apelike if Severus wanted to be uncharitable, though with his nose he couldn't afford to throw stones. Peverell traced a rune on the frame and the portrait opened to an enormous flat. The main room was almost as big as the first floor of the Snape's house on Spinner's End. There was a folding room divider that hid most of the bed area in the far lefthand corner, a fireplace on the right wall, and a collection of cozy furniture in blues and greens. The far wall had several large windows, one open enough to jump out of. There was a door in the near lefthand corner next to some bookshelves that was probably a toilet. Four cups and a tea service popped into being on the round table in the near righthand corner, as well as two more chairs to match the two that had been there when they first walked in.

"Do you want some tea? I've hardly spoken to anyone since I got here. The caretaker showed me up to my room and the rest of the staff seems to have forgotten I'm here at all," Peverell said. The little tin of tea next to the steaming pot had 'mint chamomile' printed on the side in big letters, but no branding. The tin was probably just used by the elves to serve out of a bulk order, or maybe even blended by them to order.

"Only Filtch and Snape? You are hard up for conversation," Fortescue said.

"Oh, I, er," Peverell stumbled over his words so hard he lost his bearings entirely.

"You've got to be desperate if you're asking me for company," Snape agreed with Fortescue, watching the girls carefully for their reactions. Peverell looked crushed, which Severus hadn't the faintest clue how to deal with, and flopped into the closest chair. Merlin, what was he supposed to say? Nobody had ever looked his way like that before, let alone a cute bloke who treated him like a person, and now he was blowing it.

"Are we all allowed to eat here?" Macdonald asked, and the table was suddenly set with four serviettes and silverware. The food appeared only a moment later, when they were all seated. Unlike how the food was served in the hall, their plates weren't empty. Each one had small portions of chicken, rice, peas, and roasted carrots. Severus hardly had any rice, but got a little dish with orange wedges and blackberries on the side and two potion vials to drink next to his teacup. Peverell had his own vial appear, and his special side was a small salad with nuts and cubes of soft cheese. The girls each had a salad with orange slices in it, which seemed an odd hybrid of the special items given to the boys. In a central platter was more chicken and veg, including some scalloped potatoes Severus wished were on his plate instead of the rice. He hated peas, but he'd been forcing them down with nearly every supper for years because, despite the lecture he'd just had, he did know he had to eat his greens, and mum had made sure he understood that peas were important. Peverell hardly had any peas at all, which seemed unfair, but then the salad greens probably covered the required vegetables.

For a while they just ate, and Severus gulped down the potions. Peverell pinched his nose and tilted his head back to try and miss having his touch his tongue at all, but the great shiver he gave proved the method didn't work. They talked a bit about the food and recent events. Peverell explained that he was in ministry custody and got to talk with aurors rather often since he was orphaned, but so long as his O.W.L. scores were high enough he'd be allowed to support and manage himself using a modest inheritance in the short term and whatever summer job he could find in a hurry. The serving spoon in the scalloped potatoes moved around and didn't let Severus touch it. Peverell suggested they had to finish what they were given first, which was annoying because he'd eaten all the bloody rice, and he knew potatoes were also healthy - at least according to his Ma - but it was probably a good guess, so he went back to his bland chicken and nasty mushy peas. The girls talked about exams and Peverell talked about being tutored while in hospital without saying much about why he was there so long. It was Macdonald that finally forced Severus to join in by bringing up a heavier topic.

"When I heard you talking about Death Eaters I thought that you... I'm sorry for thinking it of you, Snape, but I'm glad I did because it means I stayed to listen. You aren't all bad, I guess, just really odd. You never really talked to me before, now that I think of it."

"Odd is hardly the worst thing I've been called," Severus said. "Lily asked me not to talk to any of her friends, because you told her I seemed creepy." Macdonald blushed a bit, and when Severus caught her eye she seemed regretful.

"How much did you hear?" Peverell asked.

"Um, from when you said you thought you were seeing a Death Eater attack here at the school," Macdonald admitted, blushing even brighter. "I know it was rude to eavesdrop around the corner, but I've been, that is, Muciber has..."

"I'm sorry," Snape said, and he meant it. He had thought, had told himself, that the bigger boy's bragging was just a lot of hot air. "He's said things, but everyone thinks he's exaggerating."

"Everyone, or is that just what you tell yourself?" Fortescue asked sharply, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"The prefects, maybe not Avery, but they don't think he actually did any of it and that's what matters most for if he gets punished or not. Just that he's planning to. Planning anything isn't quite against the rules until you try to do it and someone gets hurt. About a week before Yule, Black tried to... do something. To me," Severus trailed off, cringing at how that sounded. The promise he'd made not to tell anyone about Lupin and the night he'd gone out to the Whomping Willow tree last December burned painfully in his chest, warning him not to say too much. "The headmaster made me promise not to talk about specifics, because it would ruin his future. I wasn't physically hurt so it didn't count. Black's plan didn't do what he wanted, and he just got detention, which none of them care about. I'm not sure what kind of detentions they are serving, but no matter how many they get they aren't phased at all."

"You said Lily's been giving you a hard time about them? I d-don't think she would," Macdonald stuttered a bit from nerves and was wringing the serviette in her hands. "Date any of them, I mean, but we should probably tell her, right Alice? Just in case."

"Did Sprout see Pettigrew's wand do the, what was it, prior-y?"

"She did. Priori Incantatem is the reverse spell effect charm, used by aurors to check wands to see who cast which spell in a firefight. It has limits, but lifting up some girl's robe was the last spell Pettigrew cast so it popped out front and center," Peverell said with a nod. "Evans had walked off before I got to them, just gave up trying to stop them from raping Snape on the lawn, so someone needs to help get her head on straight."

"They usually just make a bunch of jokes about what I look like and leave me to get dressed again," Severus said, stirring his peas around the plate. "There was just the one time they tried to make me, er, stand up while laying down. It didn't work, and then that was the joke."

"They what?" Peverell's voice was cold with outrage and anger, but his face looked green and nauseated. Severus didn't want to look at the girls.

"They don't touch me with their hands, it's just with spells. They learned from what the headmaster said before that it doesn't count if I don't need medical attention, so they try to stop short of that. I think they cast the charm wrong, anyway," Severus mumbled mostly to himself, but in the quiet of the private room he was sure they all heard him.

"That's still rape, even if it is done by spells alone. Legally, the line is doing any unwanted sexual or sensual act when the victim's genitalia or nipples are exposed that includes physical touch, the illusion or approximation of physical touch under clothing, or causing the perpetrator's magic to enter the body of the victim in parody or approximation of a sensual act. Less than that standard is assault," Peverell said, his voice trembling with emotion. "My dad was an auror. He died when I was a baby. I was supposed to grow up just like him; I know the common statutes back to front. You were sexually assaulted today, but if they'd done something to try and make you, you know, some other time when they weren't stopped that's rape. Even if you didn't react to it, them casting the spell on you was enough."

"Oh," Severus said, feeling a bit like his head wasn't connected to his body. He remembered what Peverell had said to Sprout earlier, asking if she was the sort who thought a boy couldn't be raped. Severus wondered if he'd convinced himself of that, or if he'd just forced all thought of it out of his mind to the point he didn't have the chance to consider it. Fortescue swore vividly. The food was replaced by a collection of petit fours, and Severus' teacup refilled.

"I'm telling Frank," she said when she'd finished disparaging the ancestors of the Gryffindor boys.

"Alice," Macdonald hissed.

"No, I'm telling Frank everything, and that's the end of it." Fortescue threw down her serviette, popped a tiny cake in her mouth, and walked out.

"Won't that make it worse?" Macdonald asked. Peverell shrugged, his shocked expression communicating 'how should I know' loud enough Severus could practically hear the thought.

"For the rest of term, maybe not, but he graduates this year," Severus pointed out.

"That's what I'm worried about," the tiny girl said. He could kind of understand what Mulciber saw in her, even if he wasn't into it himself. She looked like a little doll with her round rosy cheeks and piles of loose coiled curls, all on a body that was small and delicate all over. Even Severus was noticeably taller than her, and he had always been about one growth spurt behind the rest of the boys in his year.

"I'm transferring here next year, or that's the plan. I had six older brothers, before. Adopted, sure, but we were as good as blood in my book," Peverell said. "When I say everyone I ever loved is gone, I mean a lot of people, and it was those rich, privileged racists at fault. We are good, right?" Peverell's gaze bore into Severus, and Severus wasn't stupid enough to lie or give the wrong answer.

"Yeah, of course. I... I'm a mudblood too, so," Severus started to say.

"No, you're the son of a witch and a muggle, and that doesn't make you less than them," Peverell said forcefully. Severus rushed to finish, words tumbling out of him carelessly.

"I know that. I mean I know what I said to Lily is really wrong, but they say the same shit about me. I... what I really meant was that she isn't so much better than me, even if she's been acting like it and not listening to me lately, but I shouldn't have used that word. I know how it feels, and I'm going straight up now that we've eaten to beg her forgiveness, and... and we are good, you and I… I'm not one of them, and I don't really want to be, they just offered to protect me but I don't know what that means or how much it would cost me if I went to them for help. Not just my year-mates either, but the older boys, and I'll need references for a job and that soon and who else is going to get me anything. If you are here next year, then, maybe we'll stick together. We'll see which of us gets the top slot in the class rankings, though Potter and Black are up there too. It's part of how they get away with so much."

"We'll hold the line, then, even if we have to get messy sometimes to make it work," Peverell said with a nod, then pointed at the petit fours. "Eat at least one, you desperately need the calories." When Severus picked up a chocolate one with a bright yellow flower on top Peverell swished his wand and a bag flew over to him. While Macdonald and Severus had their pudding he started writing.

"What's that that can't wait?" Macdonald asked.

"If they won't be punished properly by the headmaster because they are rich with connections, then we use what we have," Peverell said, not looking up from the parchment. "I may be a poor nobody from rural England, but I do have one connection left. A cousin twice removed, or maybe three times it's a bit fuzzy, on my father's side. He works at the Daily Prophet, but that's a bonus. The big thing is he can go have a serious talk with Potter's parents and maybe get them to have another look-in on whatever they get told. Even better, his wife was born a Black, so Charlus Potter might be exactly who we need to make sure whatever Fortescue is doing right now doesn't blow up in our faces next year. About how often would you say Potter has detention?"

"Just Potter?" Macdonald said, "At least once a month, but then they tend to get in trouble in a group and the professors don't like to have them all serve detention at the same time or in the same room. Over the last two years it seemed like one of the three of them had detention at least once a week. It's harder to tell with Lupin. He's ill, so I don't know when he's missing because he's in the infirmary and when he's scarce because he's in detention."

"That sounds about right," Severus agreed, wishing he could explain more. "Lupin is the lookout most of the time, making sure they don't get caught and staying out of it when they do. They get scolded a lot, but they don't always lose points for the smaller things because of their grades and status."

"I'll write this and send it off before I get settled for bed. Thanks for coming, both of you. I was starting to go a bit spare with just me and Hermes, and then the exams and straight back up here."

"Is Hermes your owl?" Macdonald asked.

"I don't have an owl. I used to, but I'm not quite ready to replace her, I guess. Hermes helps me with healing magic. He's been in my robes this whole time, mostly making snide comments." Peverell didn't look up from the parchment, but his leg started to bounce.

"Making comments?" Severus asked.

"Either it is my fault for naming him after one of the more mischievous gods or I just chose the name really well," Peverell said.

"Is it a toad?" Macdonald asked.

"Toads aren't usually much help for healing magic," Severus said. "Some species can be helpful, but in general they are better anchors for herbology and transfiguration. They also don't talk last I checked."

"You can't keep a cat in a pocket," Macdonald said, which was a reasonable argument.

"Well, you could call it a cat, of a sort," Peverell said, his every feature suspicious from the hand fiddling with his hair to the way he was looking away from them and chewing his lip.

"What sort of cat?" Severus asked, straightening up in his seat.

"Hermes is a cat snake, named because of how they act not what they eat. I think." Peverell looked sheepish. "Also called a mangrove snake or a Boiga. He's a rear-fanged snake and only a little venomous, he couldn't do any permanent damage to you if he tried and he's still a baby. He stays in my clothes pretty much all the time because he needs the warmth. They like to live in trees anyway, so I'm basically his tree." Peverell shifted and hissed a sigh, and for a moment it looked like he had a Hufflepuff themed ribbon poking up from under his drab robe. Then the head of the black and yellow striped snake poked up and onto his shoulder. "Eventually, because he is my familiar and not out in the wild, his venom will change to become less like an irritant and more like a restorative or sedative potion. Based on intent, of course. For now he's just a sassy little noodle."

"That you can talk to," Severus clarified.

"While the people who are most famous in Bri- er - in Albion for using parseltongue tend to be, er, let's just say they are not the best human beings. That's just the people who get famous for it, you see. It's most closely associated with healing magic in Asia where the ability is far more common. I've got a two or three greats- gran from India and that's probably how I got the ability," Peverell said. "The Cadmus branch of the Peverell family did marry one of Salazar Slytherin's several-great-granddaughters, and they became the Gaunts which leads us to the current Dark Lord. Parseltongue or no, I really don't think that's the same branch I'm from. I look too much like the Potters, which are the line descending from Ignotus, but since I'm from an enclave I could also be from Antioch's line - the eldest brother - and be related some other way to the Potters since I inherited the original Peverell vault."

"I thought you said you were poor," Severus said, irritated and off balance. Peverell said he was a half-blood like Severus, but he had an incredible pedigree and family money.

"I didn't say it had much money in it, just that it was the original family vault under the Peverell name. There's some stuff in it, old journals and portraits and so on, but not much coin," Peverell explained with a shrug.

"You said that's a baby?" Macdonald asked.

"You can't be afraid of that," Severus scoffed. "He's a particularly mobile hair ribbon. Peverell could wear him in the Great Hall and as long as nobody saw the head or tail it wouldn't cause a fuss."

"But, how big will it get?" Macdonald countered.

"I can't know that," Peverell said. "If Hermes was a wild snake, he wouldn't be magical. As my familiar, my magic will infuse into him and that will have some special effects the same as how post owls are different from common mundane owls even of the same species. That said, a wild mangrove snake could get to be two and a half, maybe two and three-quarters."

"Feet?" Macdonald said. "That isn't so ba-."

"Meters." The girl's blue eyes widened comically. To be fair, that was a lot of snake.

"Over two meters of black and yellow venomous snake? In the dorms?" Severus asked cautiously.

"He probably won't get near that size before I'm graduated," Peverell said sheepishly. "And may never. He'll live longer than the ten to fifteen years wild ones do, but familiars tend to stay cuter than wild animals. Like the difference between a dog and a wolf, or any other domesticated animal. A full-grown dog acts a bit more like a wolf puppy than any grown wild wolf ever would. So, he might stay smaller, but then he might not. He will be more intelligent than a wild snake, and since I can talk to him he isn't likely to strike anyone or anything unless I tell him it is food. Originally, I wanted a corn or garter snake, but then he hatched while I was in the reptile house looking at my options and it just felt right. He's rear-fanged, so he has to chew to get the venom in. It isn't like a viper at all."

With that revelation done with, Peverell finished his letter. There was a bit of an argument where Macdonald insisted on taking the letter up so Peverell could rest his leg, Severus pointed out that it probably wasn't safe for her to go anywhere alone, the snake said things that made Peverell blanch and blush in turns. When Peverell hissed back at the snake, the sound ran tingles from Severus' scalp down his spine, short-circuiting whatever argument he'd been thinking of and replacing it with the desire to keep hearing that sound. If he took Avery up on the offer to collect Severus this summer so he could bring his O.W.L. results to the Dark Lord, and the man spoke parseltongue for any length of time, Severus would probably turn to jelly. As it was, he was glad he was in a sturdy chair and could play off the way he was leaning on the table as supreme boredom and the desire to get going already.

In the end, Peverell insisted on posting his own mail so Severus could walk Macdonald to the tower and apologize to Lily there, and then Peverell would come the rest of the way up through the castle to make sure Potter, Black, and Pettigrew didn't do anything stupid to Severus on the way back down. At least from the seventh floor to the third, anyway. He'd just taken his potion so he was feeling fine, and he probably had so much trouble on the stairs this afternoon only because he'd been so sedentary the last couple days.

"I wish I'd gotten to talk to you before now," Macdonald said when they were nearly at the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. "You are kind of... forceful, I guess is the polite way to say it, and you walk weird, but that's because you are just as scared of them as I am, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with how I walk?" Severus asked, since the rest of it was stupid and not worth replying to. He looked down at his hands holding on his messenger bag strap and the rhythmic appearance of his worn-out loafers from under his robe. His feet were straight and his steps even. Madam Pomphrey had given him some fresh pants and thermals to go over them so his legs weren't bare, and they caught on the robe to make the movement of his legs more obvious. He was a bit too warm for this time of year with them on, but being a bit warm was better than feeling so exposed.

"You've always got your arms tucked up close, and your body is so stiff up top but curled over," she said, hooking a hand in his elbow like he was a proper escort. "At the same time, you've got those skinny legs going mad most of the time, almost like you are running everywhere even when you aren't. Though to be fair some people say that about me, since I have to take two steps for every one someone like Frank does, and you've always been one of the shortest boys. It's like you are trying to be even smaller, and get away from wherever you are. It works well, though. I don't think anyone in our year could outrun you if it was just a footrace with no magic."

"I used to only walk on tip-toes, Ma said. My gran said Da was the same way, but it took me longer to walk normal," Severus said, because it was the first thing that came to mind. He was out of practice, it had been so long since he last had a real conversation. With Lily it quickly became an argument and with his dorm mates it was always some power play or manipulation. He wished it hadn't come out with so much of his natural accent, either, but it had been a long day. "It bothered Ma that I didn't walk right, so she made me learn to dance when I was really little. Not in a class or anything, just her teaching me."

"Oh, I had dance lessons when I was little too. It was once a week, and probably more like babysitting than real lessons now that I think about it, but it was fun," Macdonald said. "Do you like dancing?"

"I like music. All kinds, or mostly so, but sometimes people play it so loud I can't think. That can be nice, if I don't want to think, or completely intolerable," Severus answered her, feeling rather silly. He wasn't terribly good at this, and it felt a bit like he was giving things away. Macdonald was harmless, he thought, but she might say things to the Gryffindor boys without thinking through how it could be used against him.

"Do you have a favorite band?" she asked.

"Queen." That was true and should be safe to say.

"Oh, I like them. The lead singer is just my type, his mustache is so cute."

"If you say so," Severus said.

"Peverell is nice too. Shame he's bent."

"His eyes are really green," Severus said. That was safe enough to say, right? Macdonald leaned close and dropped her voice to a whisper.

"He hardly took them off you, you know. If you are into that."

"That's my business."

"That's a yes if I ever heard one. Which is nice, if you don't mind me being selfish about it. It's good to know you aren't interested. Safe. It's been... hard, lately."

"I'm not safe," Severus said quietly. The grip on his elbow jerked away. "The Gryffindor boys have been relentless to me. I used to be able to hide, but this year it doesn't matter where I go, they can find me anytime they want."

"Oh. Jesus, think about how you phrase things!" Macdonald scolded, her outrage dissolving into giggles and she reached out to take his arm again. He could see why people did that. It wasn't as intrusive as holding hands, and rather nice.

"I'm not attracted to pocket-sized people," Severus said, and he wanted to tilt his head so his hair hid his face, but Macdonald was so short he didn't think that would even work. "You look breakable. You should wear an orange hat, bright and tall like a traffic cone with reflective tape and 'fragile' written on it in large block letters." The girl giggled again.

"I think I've decided to be mad at Lily, for keeping you to herself," Macdonald said. "Not much, but enough to make sure you get to apologize and to find out what her deal is. There just has to be something."

"Thanks, I think."

Severus waited a long while outside the Gryffindor common room. Quite a few students passed him by, giving him looks ranging from disgust to indifference. Peverell found a battered wooden bench to sit on when he came up moving slow, puffing hard, and leaning on his stick and the wall just how Severus and Mary told him he would be if he came all this way. It was nice to have someone watching out for him, though, and he half-hoped they'd be in the same dorm. It seemed obvious someone who could talk to snakes would be a Slytherin, but he wasn't sure. Jumping out the window was brave and stupid, passing the certification test at fifteen was solid Ravenclaw behavior, and he was so friendly with a familiar that could double as a Hufflepuff hairband.

"Snape, we need to talk," Frank Longbottom said, stepping out of the portrait.

"What do you want?" Severus asked. He was glad the bench Peverell sat on was on the other side of the portrait, so Longbottom didn't notice him.

"Alice told me a lot of things when she came up after you had dinner together," Longbottom said. Snape put both his hands up.

"It wasn't like that, I wasn't trying anything on with her," Severus rushed to defend himself. "Or Macdonald either."

"No worries there, she explained that whole thing. Alice was on the warpath about the rest, and then when Lily came back from wherever in a snit and stomped through the common room, she went up to have a talk with her. The girls are all screaming at each other right now, we can hear some of it from the common room, but it isn't very clear. I can make some guesses based on what Alice told me before. What's your best guess?"

"Lily and I haven't been talking properly," Severus started, weighing the pros and cons of getting the seventh- year involved. He was a prefect, and Head Boy, but there were only a few weeks left before summer hols and that would be the end of his involvement. "She's been, well, I didn't want her getting hurt. Potter fancies her, which isn't a secret, but no matter what he plays at while people are looking, he's dangerous when there aren't a lot of people around. Black too, and then Pettigrew got caught by Sprout today for lifting a girl's robe after they'd accused me of doing it. She talks about how my dorm mates are evil, as if that means Potter isn't, and while I can't do anything about who my dorm mates are she can't stop making doe eyes at Potter and Black at least while they are busy tormenting me if not full stop."

"It's only because you are her friend and don't want her to get hurt? If she started dating Carmichael or Johnson...." Severus cut Longbottom off.

"Johnson's a great idea, and I know he fancies her. He's got a plan to open a shop doing repair work on houses, and with his runes grades he could do well. Maybe enough to get into curse breaking, but he might be too much of an eagle and not enough of a lion for that. He wants kids the same way Lily does, by that I mean after five or ten years of setting themselves up, and he'd respect her. Potter would treat her like a broodmare or a trophy, and cheat on her, and then she'd be miserable by the time she's thirty, and then I'd have to figure out how to kill him so she can have his money without getting arrested for it," Severus said, all matter of fact.

"Huh. So, you don't go after girl's knickers?"

"Most people don't without permission. That's hardly a high standard of behavior for any intelligent person to meet."

"There's been a rash of it happening anyway."

"Unfortunately, some people aren't terribly intelligent." Peverell snorted at Severus's words, and Longbottom whirled around, wand drawn.

"Who are you?" Longbottom demanded.

"Someone intelligent enough to insist that vulnerable people travel in pairs," Peverell said.

"I'm not some wilting flower," Severus hissed, shame burning on his face.

"You are sick, though," Peverell shot back, "and I think my leg qualifies me for that category too, so you're stuck with me at least halfway down to the dungeons. I'd offer you a couch and a spare blanket, but I think that would cause more problems."

"Alice said Snape talked his way out of the infirmary when he shouldn't have. You must be Peverell," Longbottom said.

"Junior mediwizard and certified imbecile," Peverell gave a mock salute from his seat, "and by that, I mean I did most of the talking our way out of the infirmary when I have a certificate that says I absolutely do know better."

"Alice said you're too interested in wands and broomsticks to bother any girls," Longbottom said cautiously.

"Love me a good broomstick. Unfortunately, I can't fly for another month. Medical restriction, the potion I'm on can cause periodic dizziness and weakness. Also, I can't stand up for extended periods of time or I risk fainting, again that's a potion side effect and not anything permanent. Sad to say it, but I mean all of that literally and metaphorically," Peverell said it so easily, like he just didn't care if anyone teased him for having a limp prick.

Severus and Peverell gave Longbottom a rundown of what had happened out on the lawn today, what they knew of the assaults, the lack of evidence against Mulciber unless a victim spoke up, and why Snape thought that Mulciber genuinely liked Macdonald but was still an awful person she should stay away from. They also talked a bit about how the Gryffindor boys had stepped up targeting Severus, and what sort of things they did to him before, with a few bits thrown in by Peverell about how the attack today resembled a Death Eater raid. Severus complained that they could find him no matter where he tried to run and hide, when last year he could lose them relatively easily. Eventually a chime sounded, indicating curfew had begun.

"I'm going to see if we can get Lily down here, so you can get on your knees and beg forgiveness for using that slur," Longbottom said. Severus nodded vigorously.

"That is why I came here in the first place, you know. Macdonald said she'd get Lily for me."

"I know, I know. You are a prickly little hedgehog," Longbottom said. Severus sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips, deciding to be offended. He was absolutely nothing like a hedgehog. Peverell snorted, but only spoke up after the portrait was fully closed.

"Hermes says hedgehogs are worse than rats, because you can't eat them. I tried to say that's the point, but he thinks they should have fewer points." Severus smiled at the ridiculous person that might become his second real friend. Perhaps with Macdonald and Fortescue backing him up, this wouldn't be too humiliating.

He should have known not to get his hopes up.

Chapter Text

Severus wasn't entirely sure how he got to be on a train into Burmingham with Lily and Mr. Evans with a bank draft for five hundred Galleons in his pocket. He did know it had to be mostly Macdonald and Peverell's fault.

He was glad that Macdonald's pet owl knew to come in his window and leave the letters on his dresser, or maybe just that the owl had another letter to deliver in Cokeworth and he slept with the window open enough for the barn owl to get inside that first time. Da would have entirely too much to say about owls at the breakfast table and Severus getting letters from a girl, so best he didn't have to know about it. It was nice to be getting letters. It was a lot easier, he thought, to write to Macdonald than to talk to her. He could take his time and revise his words just like an essay. Coming from a muggle home, she shouldn't care if he used pencil instead of a quill, either, so he could save his ink and paper by using a rubber on whatever he wanted to reword instead of needing a whole new sheet to rewrite it. There was one letter from Fortescue the second week of summer hols, mostly about how Macdonald had told her they were writing and how she felt safe around him, and that if he hurt her after gaining her trust like this he wouldn't like the consequences. Fortescue's letter also came with a box of dried fruit and a postscript hoping whatever illness he had during exams healed up well. It was a bit of mixed messages, but he supposed he understood. Fortescue was kind, and she was giving him a chance, but she still didn't trust him.

He had been worried that Macdonald's letters would all be about what Mulciber did to her and asking about what was done to him, but they weren't really. She talked a bit about being scared to walk alone even though none of the boys from school knew where in Scotland she lived, and mentioned that she told her mum everything because her mum was the best sort of listener and always knew what to say to make her feel better. She'd apologized that she'd talked about how the same had been done to him without getting his permission in the first letter she sent, which sat oddly in his chest, but all of that was a small part of her letters. Mostly they were about school, summer, and music she heard on the radio. Severus didn't get to use the radio at home, it got turned on for the news and then off again to keep the electric bill low. He liked to hang out in town near a chippy that always had their door wide open and the radio turned up loud sometimes, so he had heard some of the new songs she was talking about.

After her third letter, he was out of things to say about his summer and the exam results weren't back yet to talk about those, so he took his charcoal sticks, a notebook, and a nice white sheet of paper into the allotment. He found a caterpillar on a pea plant and sketched it. Then he listed out the ways the caterpillar or the pea plant could be used in potions, and what they might do if used together. Not that it was a very useful or interesting combination of effects. It didn't seem like enough, so he filled in the background. Instead of using the brick walls of the houses that had actually been behind the best angle for the leaf the caterpillar was eating, he drew the trees and countryside as seen from the other end of the allotment. There was a sort of blank halo around the pea plant and annotations since he didn't want to smudge up what he'd done, and he thought that looked silly, but he wasn't sure how to fix it and didn't have time to do it over. The owl always came back the next night to get his replies, already holding a letter with Macdonald's given name written in Lily's hand, so he sent it as is. Lily used to like looking at his drawings on days when he didn't have much to say.

The first letter from Peverell came when he was still at school, written on cheap muggle paper that smelled like vanilla. He wasn't sure if Peverell had scented the paper on purpose, that seemed rather too frilly for the impressive teenager with his certification and his pet snake and his simple no-nonsense robes. The scent was strong enough Severus kept sniffing it weeks later, which he knew was weird but he was alone in his bedroom so it was fine. He found a library book about perfume meanings just in case. Vanilla perfume meant simplicity, calm, and sensuality, assuming the paper was intentionally scented, which was just a wonderful way to flirt. Proper magical customs like that were considered old fashioned and silly by muggles, but it was just so nice and subtle. The letter itself reminded him to take care of his health, asked how his summer was, and vaguely mentioned that Peverell was doing something risky in the hopes of doubling his money over the summer. The whole thing hinged on him being able to sell what he built up before the end of August, but he didn't say what he was making. The letter wouldn't be very flirty at all if it wasn't for the scent on it.

The real problem was that Severus had never thought he was a homosexual. He hadn't fancied Lily, that wasn't a lie. She was important to him and he missed her now that they weren't talking and he wanted to keep her safe, but he didn't want to kiss her. He tried touching himself and imagining she was doing it once back in third year and it hadn't worked. Or it had, in the sense that he'd figured out what he wanted to know for sure and for certain. He'd also felt awful after, a bit like he was trying to piss but someone was staring at him while he was at the urinal so it wouldn't go, except that the wrong plugged-up feeling and the shame of it all had lingered for a whole day of not being able to relieve himself right in any sense of the word. He woke up on the second morning after he tried with a sticky mess in his pajama bottom and a desperately urgent need to use the loo, and promised himself he would never try to think of Lily that way again.

There were pretty girls. He wasn't sure if he preferred looking at taller girls because they were taller or because they were older and used more makeup and stuff to make themselves prettier. He'd thought he had a little crush on one of the Slytherin prefects back in second year, though Andromeda Black had been a seventh year then, so he hadn't dared let on to anyone that he liked looking at her. On the other hand, that had been in second year, and his body had only just gotten working to the stage where his bits would tingle for just about any reason as far as he could remember. He'd put a flag up when his favorite pudding was served or even sometimes when he was especially interested in his classwork back then, so he was fair sure his prick didn't know what it was on about until maybe his fourteenth birthday or so when it stopped posting up at the smallest happy thought. Not that it didn't still happen when he was especially excited, but it wasn't quite as bad as it had been. There really hadn't been anyone else he'd gotten stuck on, but then he didn't like many people in general.

He did like the way Peverell had looked at him, and the shadows of thoughts that floated behind his eyes. He did like that the second letter smelled more like cinnamon but still with a little vanilla, which stood for passion if he remembered right. He did like writing to Peverell about how he wished he could live in the magical part of London, or maybe Hogsmeade, or maybe just closer to other wizards in general, because his house in Cokeworth was shabby and his mother couldn't use much magic here. He made sure it sounded like they were worried about neighbors noticing and not Da going more spare if Ma charmed the teapot to be full of boiling water than he would if Ma used too much fuel or water when the bills came due. He liked it even more when Peverell replied saying he hoped they could meet up sometime this summer, at least to hunt through secondhand shops for school supplies and maybe get something to eat for lunch just the two of them. Like a proper date!

Severus decided to try it on. He made sure his Ma was asleep and Da was out drinking before he stripped himself naked and lay on his bed, taking deep steady breaths to try and squash down his nerves. He sniffed the two letters and put them back under his pillow so they wouldn't get messy. It was a warm summer night, so he wasn't too cold even though he was bare, and he had a towel so the sheets wouldn't get messy. He didn't need Ma asking him about any stains. He thought about Peverell, with those unnaturally bright eyes and strong-looking hands, and not much happened. He was a bit too nervous, maybe, for his prick to stand up without a touch, so he tried to focus on what Peverell's square hand looked like holding his wand as he touched himself. He thought about the way Peverell insisted on taking care of him by bringing him to the infirmary, and how he listened when Severus spoke. He thought about sitting next to Peverell in the Great Hall for meals, all the way on the end of the Slytherin table like he usually did, but now he wasn't alone and they could use Peverell's flashcards to cram before their tests together. He thought about holding onto Peverell's elbow after Lily refused to accept his apology - no, not that, that was awful.

His erection wilted away when he thought of that night, so he shoved it down and away and replaced it with sitting in the sun with Peverell well away from the more popular parts of the lawn after the last exam. They'd been nearer to the Forbidden Forrest where the grass was higher and the ground loamy. Peverell had pulled out a cheap wooden flute and tooted on it slightly out of tune while Severus used his charcoal sticks to sketch the lake and some dandelions. His cock jumped in his hand and filled back up to full size as he remembered the gentle smile on the other boy's face when Peverell had accepted that Severus was tired from exams and didn't want to talk, while still insisting that Severus shouldn't be left alone. His balls tingled in the best way as his he remembered how Peverell stared at his lips as Severus ate the orange the other boy peeled for him while they sat there, hardly speaking but enjoying each other's company. A wild tension grew in him as all the little touches they shared over those few days melted together into a warm brew in his mind and poured hot down his spine. He started to leak when he thought of the mug of hot chocolate Peverell nicked from the kitchens on his last day in the castle, which was warm with cinnamon instead of marshmallow and maybe it counted as a kiss since they'd sipped from the same part of the mug.

Severus gathered his courage and dared to pretend it was Peverell's hand on him. He tried to fool himself into thinking that what was in his hand was the other boy's. Suddenly his whole body was on fire and he was shaking and panting harder than he ever had when doing this, the tension in his lower body growing tighter and more urgent out of control. It was too much and not enough, he felt like he was going to shatter and fly off into the night in a thousand pieces. His balls were so sensitive it almost hurt when he held them a little too roughly with his other hand, imagining it wasn't him doing it, that it was too rough because it had been Peverell's hand instead. He pushed past the overload of sensation to dive into the fantasy until everything went white and he'd painted his stomach and chest with thick, sticky ribbons.

Fuck, that had been intense. Even just thinking about it day's later made him feel warm. Well, at least he didn't have to wonder about that anymore. Maybe he could still do a girl, but he could definitely do a boy and that was the important thing for now since it was a boy interested in doing him. He hoped, anyway. He'd snuck into his parent's room and gotten some of Ma's lotion on the next letter. Just the smallest dot. The cheap, chemical, false-floral smell wasn't quite the right thing, but it was that or spearmint from the allotment or nothing and he didn't want to send another unscented letter for fear of Peverell thinking he wasn't interested. He absolutely didn't want to imply Peverell should cool it with the flirtation, so the mint was right out. He harvested some of it anyway, hanging the sprigs to dry in his room with string, to pack into his potions kit.

Macdonald wanted to meet him in Burmingham on the third weekend of summer break. Her parents would be with her and they were going to a bakery and some high street shops. She implied but didn't say that her parents wanted to talk to him about the harassment she'd dealt with, if not also what had happened to him, but she did say the trip would be all her treat and that she felt she owed him for making sure she never walked anywhere alone after exams even when Fortescue was busy with her boyfriend. Severus had eaten crow and accepted that Mulciber really was as bad as all that, though he didn't repeat what Peverell said about why Death Eaters were called Death Eaters to the girls or anyone else. However, Lily refused to do the same about Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, and she refused to even entertain his apologies for using a hateful slur.

Macdonald taking his side felt surreal. The weekend after OWL and NEWT exams was always a Hogsmeade weekend, but Peverell had to leave after lunch on Saturday and couldn't go to the village. Severus had stayed to plunder the kitchen and what Peverell called the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor using directions given to them by an animated carved snake Peverell found while Severus was in a meeting with Slughorn. Fortescue and Macdonald had stayed the morning in the castle so they could catch them at lunch, and the girls said that a pack of unrepentant bullies who thought they were just being funny were at least as bad as one actively malicious one. Mulciber had quidditch practice and other things that kept him busy, but one of the four Gryffindor boys was always around. They'd essentially thrown their lot in with Severus as soon as he'd agreed that Mulciber was an entitled pillock, and had decided Lily was being unreasonable because she wanted James Potter to have a salvageable personality rather than just being an odious troll to the bone.

Severus would be using the Room of Requirement to study and experiment in next year for certain. Since the room became what you needed, if Severus needed to not be found then the castle would block any tracking on him while he was inside. He'd believe it when it worked, but for now he tried to hope. It was especially amazing because it provided all sorts of books and equipment, though it was bound by Gamp's law and couldn't provide healthy food. Still, knowing how to get into the kitchens and having a safe place to hide fixed his two biggest problems, and Peverell had shown him the way without even realizing how big a gift it was. He'd seriously considered kissing the other boy just to thank him in a way he knew Peverell would like when he saw the shelves of books and racks of glassware and art supplies the room provided when he took a turn making it into something, but had lost his nerve since he hadn't been sure he was queer at the time. He should have tested that earlier, maybe, but if it hadn't worked he would have felt all wrong during his more important exams. It was better that he hadn't, and had been nice and relaxed instead since he didn't need to worry so much about being attacked. The food and potions helped too, giving him more restful sleep at night and more energy in the day.

It wouldn't be fair to punish the Gryffindor boys during exam week, according to the headmaster. It would ruin their futures, which always seemed to be the excuse. Their potential future was worth more than Severus' very real present. At least Peverell got a letter back from Potter's cousins Charlus and Dorea promising to bring the wrath of Lady Magic down on Potter's head the second he got off the train. Neither of them had heard that James was having behavior problems at school, and Fleamont Potter, James' father, seemed to think the pranks had been more on the order of color change spells that faded in an hour or filling someone's hat with conjured rabbits. Severus wrote out what happened to him, signed it in blood to ensure it was true, and gave it to Peverell to include in a reply.

Now Severus Snape was sitting on the second Friday morning local train to Burmingham, headed to the lunch and shopping trip Macdonald had insisted on treating him to. He wore a shirt with no stains that at least looked like it hadn't been his Ma's first and tan trousers with almost evenly patched knees that he'd fixed up himself while at school. She hadn't mentioned Lily being invited in any of her letters, but Mr. Evans and Lily had come up behind him shortly after he bought his ticket with money he scrounged from selling cigarettes. He'd been tempted to try them a few times, just to find out why people paid so much for them, but he'd held off only because of the cost. It was a tough business, buying or trading for a pack and selling them as singles while underage, but his ugly face meant he was taken for older than he was, or maybe all the store clerks knew his Da well enough they didn't question it when Severus had cash in hand and was buying his Da's brand. He'd sell some at school and some around the bad parts of town and that was how he had any pocket money at all.

Mr. Evans had been friendly enough to ask how Severus was doing in school and how his mother was doing before he noticed that Lily had turned to glare in the opposite direction. Severus admitted they weren't speaking because he'd said something rude, and Lily hadn't accepted his apology yet. She all but dragged her father away, whispering furiously, and Severus shifted down the platform. When the train arrived it was fairly empty. The commuters would have been on either the earlier or the express train into the city, so it was just people going on a day trip or to one of the many local stops.

"No, daddy, I don't want to sit next to him," Lily whined when they boarded the train.

"I think if it was such a big deal to you, you should have told me about it already," Mr. Evans said firmly, taking the seat next to Severus. "You don't want to talk about it now, and you didn't take the chance in the weeks since you came home from school. Severus did think it was important enough to tell me, so I think I should listen. You can sit on another seat, but not more than two away from me."

"No," Lily said, crossing her arms over her bright floral sun dress. She had a yellow beret hat that matched her shoes, a chain necklace with a little glass crystal, and big plastic rose earrings, so she was certainly having a special day out.

"Young Lady, you have been a bit out of line this summer, especially with the way you and Petunia have been fighting. You will settle down, for your mother's sake if not because it's the proper way to behave. You can tell me your side later," he said evenly. "Now sit." Lily turned away with a groan and stomped two seats forward.

"She has a right to be mad at me," Severus said. "I'm ashamed, but that doesn't fix what I said."

"What happened?"

"I... I get bullied. A lot. Lily's been my only friend, but..." Severus looked at her. She was listening, he was sure, and if he said it wrong she'd probably snap at him. "Some people think I fancy her, and they've gone after me even worse trying to chase me off this last year at school."

"Do you?"

"I, well..."

"I won't be mad, so long as you respect that she obviously isn't interested," Mr. Evans said.

"No, I'm... I don't. There is someone else, I just don't want to say who it is," Severus said. "For reasons."

"It's Mary Macdonald," Lily said loudly. A lady in the front of the train car shushed her.

"No, Macdonald has been hanging around me because I told her I think she's unattractive. She..." Mr. Evans looked cross and Severus took a deep breath. He had to try his very best to explain himself. "She got hurt, by some other boys. Taken advantage of, and all. She doesn't want to date anyone, but I'm safe since she knows who I fancy and I don't have any interest in her. She doesn't feel safe walking alone, because of what happened."

"Is this related to what happened between the two of you?" Mr. Evans asked. Severus hunched down and spoke as quietly as he could.

"Yes. The boy who hurt Macdonald? We share a room, and it's just three Slytherin boys in my year so there isn't another room I could move to. I have to live with him. He's also rich, and he pays me to tutor him, and I need the money for school supplies. Sure, there are other people I get a little money from, but it's complicated. He's also a racist, a really bad one, and I've picked up some rather ugly words from talking to him because I had to, and I used one when I was frustrated and sick, and it's about the worst thing I could have said to Lily. I didn't mean it, not... not that way. I was angry," Severus finished.

"Sick?"

"I'd missed a lot of meals trying to avoid my bullies, who aren't the same as who was bothering Macdonald, I get it most from the Gryffindor boys, and that and some other things made me sick," Severus forced out, kicking the empty seat in from of him. "I've got a prescription, and I'm required to eat proper, now, or the kitchen elves will tattle tale."

"The teachers didn't stop that before it made you ill?" Mr. Evans asked.

"I guess, I'd stopped complaining about it to the professors when they weren't punished, since I should hold firm and come to meals no matter what so that's my fault for being too sensitive, but then they got worse, and I didn't want to admit what they did to me. One of their father's sent me a bank draft, though, so I guess it was that serious," Severus trailed off. He caught himself rocking and stopped. He was too old to rock himself, he wasn't a baby.

"A bank draft?"

"Converted from galleons, it's about two thousand five hundred pounds sterling," Severus whispered at Mr. Evans, which meant he had to look toward the man instead of everywhere else. A series of emotions rolled over the usually cheerful man's face, before it settled into something very stern.

"Have you cashed that yet?"

"I told Macdonald about it when I got it, and she told her Ma, who told her Da, who wrote me in all capital letters that I shouldn't dare until I showed a solicitor," Severus explained.

"Good advice," Mr. Evans muttered.

"What are you whispering about?" Lily asked. Severus looked forward and saw she'd turned around in her seat.

"We'll talk later, Lily," Mr. Evans said. "What is it they did that they are paying to keep it quiet?"

"I... I don't want to say it," Severus said, hunching as far down in the seat as he could. "Lily was there. She told them to stop, but then Potter was flirting with her while I was on the ground, and she seemed to like that, and that's why I said what I did because I wanted her to hurt too, so she called me Snivelous like they do and walked off. It's not that different than what happened to Macdonald, and it wasn't the first time they did it to me, but it was the time they got caught doing it." He peaked though his hair to look at Mr. Evans, who had an expression like he was doing a lot of maths.

"What exactly did you call Lily?"

"I promised I'd never use the word again when I apologized, and I won't. It's a slur for people who don't have all magical ancestors. Which people use to talk about me, too, because of my Da, not that it makes it any better. Makes it worse, according to Fortescue. She caught up with me the next day and told me all the ways I'd messed up and why and didn't let me go until she was sure I was proper sorry and knew how to do better," Severus admitted. It wasn't shameful to get cornered by Fortescue, everyone knew she was a demon with a wand when crossed. "She thinks Lily and I were both being idiots to each other."

"Well, you do seem to know what you did wrong, but I'm even more concerned about the rest," Mr. Evans said. Severus blew out a relived breath.

"Lily doesn't think it is the same, and was offended that the other girls called it even. What my dormmates do and what the Gryffindor boys do, I mean," Severus said slowly. "I tried to tell her it was for months, and at the time I was trying to say it was fine, because everyone was fine with it happening to me, but that's what Fortescue hunted me down to explain. That it wasn't fine, and that I was wrong to tell Lily that what was happening to Macdonald wasn't a big deal. It wasn't fine when it was done to me and it wasn't fine when it happened to Macdonald, but by then Peverell had already gotten me to understand all that."

"I know of Alice Fortescue, she came to tea once, but who is Peverell?" Severus dropped his voice again, but this time because he'd have to explain the magical terms to a muggle.

"He's the one that stopped them, after Lily walked off, and he got them in trouble because he knew the spell to make wands say what they were last used to do. Peverell was only at the school for exams, but I think it's... I think you'd say he's trained as a paramedic, with his certification. His family didn't send him to Hogwarts, they home schooled him and he took the test to be a junior mediwizard. Ma's old books say novice healer, journeyman healer, and all like that, but they changed the technical terms all around not that long ago to make the title healer more exclusive. He's got the second level, and he noticed how sick I was when he checked me over."

"They hit you hard enough to put you on the ground, enough someone thought to check your vitals," Mr. Evans mused, rubbing his mustache.

Severus didn't say anything else during the ride. Mr. Evans eventually moved next to Lily, and when the old lady at the front got off she talked loudly about how important it is to treat your siblings well. He darted off the train as soon as it pulled into his station and spotted Macdonald. To Severus' surprise she'd gotten her tiny size from her father - he was shorter than Severus was, even - and her mother was towering over him in heels. Well, maybe Macdonald understood why he didn't fancy her better than he thought she might. He introduced himself, accidentally laying the palm of his wand hand over his heart before offering his right hand to shake like a wizard in his nervousness. At least Mr. and Mrs. Macdonald thought he was just excited and thought nothing of the gesture.

"You have to call me Mary, now," Macdonald said forcefully. "Or we won't know who you are talking to."

"Is that a challenge?" Severus asked, tilting his head down to cover his face with his hair. She giggled, linked her arm in his, and bounced. "I'm exhausted just looking at you."

"Has your health recovered?" Mrs. Macdonald asked.

"I've got another week of po- medication, but I'm much better," Severus said.

"Always finish what they give you," Mr. Macdonald said. "My brother does family medicine, and people don't finish their antibiotics because they start feeling well and then end up right back in his office saying it didn't work."

"I will, sir," Severus said, adding the 'sir' reflexively.

"And how are you doing, Lily?" Mrs. Macdonald asked.

"I'd be better if he wasn't here," Lily said.

"They seem to be having a disagreement," Mr. Evans added. "Nice to see you again, Edgar."

"Likewise, Greg," Mr. Macdonald said, shaking his hand. "I've heard the whole tale. Terrible business, I hope the school is taking serious action."

"Severus got a bank draft," Mr. Evans said as they moved further out of the flow of foot traffic.

"I don't like it," Mrs. Macdonald said. "Just because they are upper class, they can't just buy their way out of something like this."

"It's dangerous, mum," Mary said. "It's like the IRA bombings. If I take that boy to court, or if Snape does, they might do something."

"Did you bring the letter that came with the cheque?" Mr. Macdonald asked. "I'm not a lawyer, but I've had to do a few things for the store with tradesmen and payment plans and all that. If it is what I think it is, later we can go to, ah, that alley place in London and ask a professional about it." He tapped his nose. Severus nodded and pat his coat pocket. "Good, good. Now the plan we came up with was that my girls and the Evans' will go off for a bit, and Imogene can have a chat with you so all us parents are on the same page and know what's what. I had expected two more for company?"

"I appreciate being included," Mr. Evans said. "Lily hasn't been very forthcoming, and Carol has been ill lately. I think my girls have been taking their worry out on each other, so we thought to separate them for the day. Petunia has never got on with Severus, in any case. They met at a bad age, I think, and it never mended."

"Sorry to hear," Mr. Macdonald said. "I'll take charge of Mr. Snape, and we'll get you what you need in case we do end up in court over this. I think we'll stop in at the barbers, I need a bit of a trim myself. We'll meet back up with the girls and Mr. Evans at the bakery at noon."

"Thank you, sir," Severus said.

"Mary, you know what he said," Lily hissed.

"I think, we tell Mr. Evans everything, including why I... I...," Mary said, cutting herself off suddenly and going quite still, "and then he'll tell you to fold your pride into squares and you'll have to listen." Severus looked at her with wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked her. She was clutching his arm hard enough to hurt. She turned blank blue eyes on him and whispered.

"I killed the baby last week."

"You're barely sixteen, and shy of six stone," Mrs. Macdonald said quietly. "You would have been sick half to death and it would have happened anyway."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Mr. Evans said, his voice hushed. "It's that sort of trouble?"

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Macdonald said, putting a hand on Mary's shoulder. Lily had her hands up to her mouth, clearly horrified. "We thought it was the best thing to be done, the least suffering for all involved. Otherwise she'd need to miss a year of school on top of the doctors saying it was terribly risky and going wrong already, and those public schools tend to have opinions even when it isn't the girl's fault."

"Mum had to hide me," Severus said. "She'd met Da when she was on holiday in sixth year, and in her seventh they spent the spring holiday together when she'd told my grandfather she was staying at school to study for exams. I was born the next winter, and she had to hide that I was already growing during her last term of school. They got married as soon as they could after her graduation. She'd have been expelled if anyone found out, it's against the conduct code unless you are already engaged before conception, with an announcement or betrothal contract to prove it."

"Then we did the right thing all around," Mrs. Macdonald said.

"I wouldn't mind, Severus," Mary said. "If you need someone convenient, you know, to hide. I know you won't hurt me, or make a mistake like that."

"Oh, that," Severus blushed. "I don't need you to do that for me. Thank you, though, and I would still pretend for you if you think it would help keep you safe, at least for a while. I want to get a mastery before I really settle down, and boys going into academic fields don't have the same expectations that girls have for that kind of thing, anyway. Normally it takes until twenty-two or twenty-five to get a mastery, depending on the specialty. Though I don't know what, um, what expectations... We haven't talked about that, us, yet. There isn't an us, even. Just two people. Separate." He held up his pointer fingers together then split them apart to show the gap, for emphasis.

"Who does Snape fancy, that he'd need to pretend to date you instead?" Lily asked.

"There's a lot of things that are different in our culture than in muggle culture," Severus quietly changed the subject entirely. "We live twice as long, so age gaps can be bigger without a fuss, so long as you aren't going after someone underage, and you can wait longer and still be healthy. We've got transfigurations and blood adoption and I could drink a potion and turn into a girl permanently if I wanted. I don't, but I could. Triads are rare but not scandalous, where you've got three instead of a pair."

"Or the short version," Mary cut off his babble when he took a breath, "you don't get to know if you aren't his friend, and you said you aren't his friend, so we won't tell you."

"Ta very much," Lily said, crossing her arms in a huff. "Since when are you his friend?"

"Since he tried his best to keep me safe, even when he wasn't, and didn't ask for anything in return."

"I think I need a full explanation," Mr. Evans said. "So why don't we get started with that?"

"Yes, I've booked the girls at a salon," Mrs. Macdonald said, checking her sparkly wristwatch. "I made sure to leave time in case you were delayed, but we should go or we'll be late. You and I can have a coffee in the front and talk in the meantime."

Mr. Macdonald first took Severus through a charity shop, and then the discount section of a Marks & Spencer's. He got some black trousers, a navy blue polo and a white button down shirt, and a soft off-size green jumper. After a bit of argument over the cost, he also got a new pair of dress shoes that fit properly and a pack of new pants and socks. The totals at the register were making him feel queasy, so Mr. Macdonald took them off in a corner to set him straight.

"The thing is, and I'd appreciate you not letting on that you know even to Mary, but she was planning on jumping off a roof because of the trouble she was in. After she saw what was done to you, that it was even happening to boys and out in broad daylight, she figured there wasn't any hope. You and that Peverell boy caught her when she was trying to get rid of Alice to do it. I like to think Alice wouldn't have left her alone, and that she would have thought better of it in the morning, but I can't know that. I do know you stopped her doing it. It wasn't planned or intentional, but you two boys made her feel like there were still good people in the world just by doing the right thing and stepping up where you could. She feels poorly for misjudging you at first, but now that she knows you were putting on a show to stay safe she figures other people might be doing the same, and doesn't feel so alone," Mr. Macdonald explained.

"But it wasn't all an act," Severus objected. "That's the problem, and that's why Lily's right to be mad at me, even if I hope she comes around. They'd started treating me like a person, saying I was one of the good half-breeds. I'd started thinking it would be even better if I... and they were saying they could help me get a job or an apprenticeship, and I invented a few things. I thought it was nothing too special but they said they were impressive. Nobody thinks I'm impressive."

"It sounds to me like you thought about all that, and considered joining this group of radicals and what benefit it would be to you, but you haven't done it and may not want to," Mr. Macdonald said.

"Well, no. I was supposed to meet with someone after I got my exam results," Severus said.

"Will you be doing that?" he prompted.

"No, sir, not at all. I didn't make the appointment," Severus said, and realized as he was saying it that he'd properly made the decision. He wouldn't contact Avery when his exam results came. He wouldn't become a Death Eater.

"Then you've nothing to feel guilty about," he said kindly. "Maybe it was a harder choice for you than you think it should have been, but you are still a boy and you were in a difficult situation. You are allowed to have trouble making the right choices, and to make mistakes that require you to change course and accept some mild consequences as you make up for them. Think about it this way. You haven't had enough life experience yet to legally enter into contracts, or take out loans, or drive yourself around. You still can't do," and Mr. Macdonald mimed waving a wand, "most things without supervision, even something you were born with a special talent for. I remember Mary making her toys dance when she was small enough I could hold her in one hand, and that was a long time ago, but she's not quite old enough yet for adult responsibilities, and neither are you. Anyone pushing you to join up with something political like that, before you've left school, is trying to pull a fast one on you. They are, almost without fail, counting on you not knowing what questions to ask, or that you need to read the fine print, or being able to protect your own interests."

"That makes sense," Severus said slowly.

"Now, you are one of those homosexual types," the man said, rocking back on his heels and looking uncomfortable.

"Not entirely," Severus said quickly. "I don't fancy any girls now, but I have done."

"But at the moment, it's the two of you boys?"

"Yes," Severus stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. This was awful.

"Are there, things? That you need. For, er, health and safety? There's a chemists, just down the way, and Mary's made it clear your father isn't exactly reliable. Cause and effect, in my opinion, but never mind that. I," the man cleared his throat elaborately, "when Imogene suggested I take you about I thought it would be my chance at spoiling a boy for once, just for a day, but I hope you have had a proper talk about the birds and the bees already and... all those things."

"The infirmary matron went over all the details in a special class, sir, so I know how it all works. Only theoretically, so far, but I do like to read and there's a section in the library," Severus admitted. "A rather comprehensive section, and of course I live in a dorm full of boys and we all talk."

"Good, good. So you have a bottle of clean oil?"

"Oil?"

"Friction burns, lad. You're liable to hurt yourself without it, or the other person. Especially when approaching from behind, and I can't imagine it's any different than a woman from that angle. This is something all good men should know." Mr. Macdonald wagged his finger at Severus. "You need to be gentle, and oil everything involved twice as well as you think you need to."

"Oh, there's a spell for that. And for cleaning up, after. I think most boys figure out how to do the lubrication one even without a wand before the end of third year," Severus mumbled, holding in the obvious joke about which wand was best to use when casting lube spells.

"Clever that. Well, now you know why I'm doing this, there will be no more arguments over how much I'm spending on you today, understood?" Mr. Macdonald punctuated the change in topic with a clap of his hands.

"Understood, sir," Severus said, and heaved a deep breath of relief as they moved on to the barber's.

Severus liked his long hair, but it hadn't been cut since last August and Ma wasn't always careful with the scissors. The barber agreed to keep it 'like those newfangled musicians like it' but insisted on giving it some more shape around his face. They tried to draw him into a conversation about football, which he knew less than nothing about, so he mentioned he liked to sketch. Mr. Macdonald spoke up about the sketch he'd sent to Mary looking alive enough to come off the page and having enough annotations on it that he'd thought it came out of a science magazine. After a bit of back and forth Severus ended up saying he wanted a career in research, but hadn't quite decided what kind so probably whichever paid best. The other men in the barber shop thought that was a fine answer. Before too long he'd had a shampoo, a hot towel on his face to help with his spots, his hair trimmed, and his nails clipped. It was a lot of weird sensations and unexpected touching, and Severus was well and properly tired after it was over.

He'd always been under the impression that beauty routines were something muggle men didn't bother with, and he was quite sure everyone in the barber shop would object to him using that phrasing, but maybe it was just a matter of having enough money. Like most everything else in life.

Mr. Macdonald had Severus give him the letter to read while Severus put on the new polo shirt and trousers in the bathroom before they left. He got some compliments from the staff on the way out before he put his coat back on, which was surprising. The navy and black under his Da's old brown coat wasn't too bad, he supposed, and the clothes fit perfectly with no ragged edges or itchy seams. There hadn't been a decent jacket that he wouldn't be swimming in even worse than he was in the old military coat among the discount items or at the charity shop.

"It's that time of year, lots of hungry young men looking for jobs and needing a good jacket, so only the ones that fit more rounded older men like me are in ample supply," Mr. Macdonald said, adjusting his own jacket over his paunch. He was trim compared to Professor Slughorn, but that wasn't a high bar to pass.

"It's fine, Mr. Macdonald."

"Not for visiting professional offices, and I really think you need to after reading this. It's... almost childish, the way it's written out. More than an insult."

"I'd be wearing a robe over the shirt, not a jacket or trousers," he whispered, and the man pulled up short.

"Just that?" he asked.

"The uniforms are the same for everyone. I wear my mum's old one, and it doesn't matter," Severus said quietly.

"Ah," Mr. Macdonald said expressively. "Imogene usually takes Mary for her school things, I hadn't realized."

"I've thought of wearing hose, or even just thin trousers under the robe, lately. I wore a pair of thermals I borrowed from the infirmary after, well, after and all the way through the end of term," Severus said, kicking the ground a bit. "It's not the done thing, like putting shorts on under a kilt, but it made me more comfortable to have something on just in case."

"I've got your size now, but it would be better if Imogene does the shopping in that case, or we can see the solicitor dressed smart but not wizzy, and get something ahead of the court date if it comes to that," Mr. Macdonald decided. "Be a bit strange, a man buying a boy hose."

"I meant knit ones, like extra tall socks, not the sheer lacy kind. I'm not bent that far," Severus protested.

"She might know where to look for something like that, unless you would rather just have thermals," the older man said. Severus considered that for a moment.

"Thermals would be good," Severus agreed. "Useful even if I get over it."

"Don't rush yourself. You are well within your rights to be upset about it all."

They met back up with the girls and Mr. Evans, all of Severus' things stuffed into a new messenger bag with compartments to help keep things organized. He had gotten an expansion charm to work on his battered old one, but only just. This new, sturdy canvass would hold a much stronger spell and keep things neater inside. The girls looked alright. Lily seemed less angry and when Mary took his elbow she seemed to be relaxed enough. He complimented their freshly painted nails because he knew he ought to, but he didn't want to say anything else since he wasn't sure what else had been done. Lily had yellow to match her hat and shoes, and Mary had gone for a very dark red with a bit of glitter. They both seemed to like that he noticed. Mr. Evans looked sterner than usual, and again like he was doing a lot of maths in his head, but Mrs. Macdonald seemed fine. Severus wasn't sure he trusted it. Mary was good at hiding how poorly she felt, and he had to wonder if she got that from her mum. Severus knew he had.

The bakery they walked to had a snitch on the logo.

Sure, fine, it looked somewhat like a flying hand pie given the context, but it was painted in brilliant gold when the basket of bread next to it was drab shades of tan and brown. It was subtle, but so obviously owned by a wizard he wondered if someone from the ministry would fine the owner for flaunting the Statute of Secrecy. There was a line of office workers and the like, and the stream of them leaving mostly had the same little brown bags and a steaming paper cup. He saw a sign for a lunch special. A pair of lamb and vegetable hand pies and a cup of tea or coffee, offered for a price even Tobias Snape would say was fair. There was flavored milk for an extra half penny in either cinnamon or vanilla. There were even some shop girls who seemed to be going halves on the pie deal, and he heard someone complaining that there wasn't any of the cheaper cheese ones left. As they walked past the line for the counter toward a sign for seating, Severus spotted a chalkboard menu with a range of items from affordable sandwich bread to special occasion cakes priced to order.

"Six for high tea, under the name Edgar Macdonald. We were originally supposed to be eight, but unfortunately the last two won't be joining us," Mr. Macdonald said.

"Sorry to hear. I can put you at a smaller table, then, right by the window, or would you still like to be in the back?" the woman at the podium replied.

"The window sounds lovely," Mrs. Macdonald said a beat after Mary nodded.

Severus swallowed hard. This was all too much, and he was so tired after the barbers. He shucked off his coat to hang on his chair, but corrected himself to use the hooks near to their table. The room was sectioned off as if the building used to have booth seating and every other one of the half-walls supporting the benches were converted to creamy wallpapered dividers with sturdy hooks to hang hats and coats and shopping bags on. They were given laminated menus and a soft pastel stick to mark what they wanted. It was a rather cheap art supply, Severus recognized the brand as the same ones Ma got him for Yule a few years back. They were awful for drawing, really, but they marked the laminated card stock just fine. It probably seemed posh or unique. The waiter hardly looked older than Severus. He came over pushing a cart of mismatched teacups, taking the menus as each person picked a color of cup. The girls picked ones that matched their nails. Severus saw one with a monkshood flower, and asked for it specifically. The boy serving them shrugged and gave him the pale lavender cup.

"Well, this is a surprise," a warm voice said from behind him.

"Peverell, hello," Mary chirped. Harry Peverell was dressed in a sharp-looking outfit, a bit oriental looking with a high starched collar and all bright red with tan piping. The pin for his certification was on it, next to a little teacup pin. His tumbling curls looked attractively oiled and lay clipped at the nape of his neck, but his eyes were caged behind chunky tortoiseshell glasses. "I wasn't sure we'd see you in the front today. You must be so busy."

"We thought we'd show our support," Mr. Macdonald said. Peverell moved around to be closer to the man and dropped his voice.

"If you make another reservation, mention the secret in the logo."

"You put a snitch in it, might as well walk around with a broomstick and pointy hat," Severus said softly. Peverell looked over and did a double-take.

"S-Snape, I didn't recognize you from behind." The smooth confidence returned as he straightened up, but those too-green eyes were clearly taking in all the details of his new haircut and tighter-fitting muggle shirt. Peverell tapped his glasses. "What a day to drop my lenses in the sugar, I'm using my back-up eyes."

"There is a snitch in the logo," Lily said, peering at the little card stand listing this week's flavors.

"The logo, yes, it's a bit of being in the know, if you know. There are a trio of private rooms in the back, you see, with some special accommodation," Peverell whispered to the adults, though he didn't seem to want to look away from Severus for long. "Customs being different in my culture, and all."

"Oh, are you from abroad?" Mr. Evans asked.

"More like under hill," Severus said, quiet and cutting. "Lily and Mary are the immigrants, and we crossed the border at the threshold."

"Well said," Peverell agreed. "Though you are shorter than me, so that's the last free elf ancestry joke you get."

"Your eyes glow in the dark," Severus retorted.

"Hush, there's muggle ears, Snack." Marry burst into giggles.

"He called you a snack," she gasped out, failing to fully muffle herself in her serviette. Peverell blushed bright enough he nearly matched his outfit. Severus probably looked the same. "Just bold as that."

"That wasn't what I... I need to get back to work." Peverell legged it, leaving Marry nearly shaking off her chair in mirth and Lily looking annoyed.

"That boy's got a case of it," Mrs. Macdonald said.

"Girls, be nice," Mr. Macdonald chided. "He's probably run off his feet, running a business like this at his age. Simple slip of the tongue."

"What did you mean, about immigrating?" Mr. Evans asked.

"It's a different country," Severus said, "Great Britain and Greater Albion. We've got all of Ireland as one country on our maps, for a start, and Germany isn't one country with a wall in the middle. It's not really a country at all, actually. Part of it is French and the rest is Wendish. Well, not officially part of the kingdom, just a controlled territory. Like Northern Ireland is to us."

"Aren't those just older maps?" Lily asked. "Professor Binns hasn't updated anything since he, ah."

"Became a ghost," Mary whispered.

"No, someone updated the maps for him. That's why he gets confused sometimes when he's explaining the more recent stuff," Severus explained quietly. "I don't think there ever was a Wendish Empire except for us, that all happened after the statute of secrecy went into effect and the governments split. It happened because the governments split, if I understand it right, because the whole monarchy over there hadn't converted to Christianity and the secrecy spells used made people... ."

Severus shut up when the waiter approached, and when the first course was served conversation shifted to what the girls had done at the spa and on from there. There were scones and enough different kinds of things to top them to satisfy everyone's tastes. There was a tiny cup of soup and a bit of salad, and Severus belatedly remembered to run into the loo to take his potion before the main came out. That was half-size croissants full of tuna or chicken salad and little sharp-edged cucumber sandwiches for him. He had thought there was more to a cucumber sandwich, but apparently it was exactly what it sounded like and nothing more. More the fool him. The dessert course was a mix of petit fours, fruit tarts, and some kind of chocolate fluff on a cracker. The tea was all fresh and delicious, and very obviously one of Mary's favorite things.

The whole day was Mary's favorite things, Severus supposed, since it was meant to settle things and make her feel better. He wasn't sure what to do with the idea that she'd wanted to die. He'd never thought that, even when things were awful. He'd just wanted to prove them all wrong and become strong enough they wouldn't be able to beat him down again. Her parents seemed confident that all of this, spending a bunch of money and making her happy with a fancy day out, would help.

Peverell stopped back at their table after the last course was served. Severus swallowed the chocolate fluff and made sure there wasn't anything on his face when he saw the bright red moving through the dining area.

"Everything going well?" Peverell asked. A shower of compliments pinked his cheeks. "I didn't cook all of it, I'd need five of me running around, but I've got a nice team back there and after closing a lot of the prep work gets done with some very old family tricks."

"You've got quite the business running, that lunch rush line was out the door for a while there." Mr. Evans said. "Does it run in the family, or...?"

"Oh, no," there was a pause and Severus was certain he was translating things over, "Er, law enforcement and chemists, and if you shake the family tree particularly hard you'll get hit with a lot of silver spoons, but I do know a thing or three about leadership and managing a reputation. The whole first week I went to different offices and such around their closing time with leftover hand pies and a stack of fliers for the to-go lunches. There's a bulk price if an office wants to get two dozen or more of them in a shot, and I talked a few places into doing that as a treat for their staff, but they have to order in advance so we have a chance to make extra."

"You make good money on that, even with the prices?" Mr. Macdonald asked. Peverell put a hand on his hip and smiled bright.

"If I sold four dozen in an hour? No. When we sell a gross of them in an hour? Yes. The fancier side is a higher markup and lower volume, of course, but most of the income is in cheap lunch and basic breads. The people helping me set up said I was mad giving so much away, and especially grumpy when they realized I wasn't a classicist, but it would have been in the bin as too old to sell if I didn't give it away. They really didn't think I'd do enough volume to make a profit, and when it was working and I didn't have any spare pies they hated that I'd take other leftover things, but it's my money even if they are trying to manage it. If some places got a box of fairy cakes with their fliers instead of cheese pies, that just meant they knew we could make cakes. Generosity won out over stinginess, and now we've got word of mouth on our side. I sold three hundred hand pies between eleven and one yesterday, and we haven't had more than a ten percent drop from one day to the next excepting Sundays, but that's Sundays."

"Closed, I assume?" Mrs. Macdonald said.

"We're not open long and sell mostly the fancier things on Sundays, or family sized items."

"Boy? Come here, boy," a loud shrill voice shattered Peverell's easy smile into something sharp and unfriendly. "Stop chattering, I need service."

"Please tell me that woman isn't looking at me," Peverell muttered.

"She is," Mary said apologetically. A blue-haired old woman and two friends were seated two tables away. They all had fancy hats and a lot of jewelry.

"Boy!" Severus saw the exact moment Peverell broke. The green in his eyes shifted from a spring leaf to something poisonous, and he turned to look around at the ground.

"For future, ma'am, we don't allow dogs in here. Not sure where your boy has gone, but we'll keep an eye and get him back to you," Peverell said just as loudly and with a little bow. "Is there another problem?"

"Never in my life! Get me the manager," the shill old lady shouted.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I simply don't think we can serve you any more today, let me go adjust your bill," Peverell said, the same ruthlessness he'd had when dealing with the Gryffindor boys cloaking him.

"How dare you. Get me the manager, now."

"I own this business, ma'am."

"You do not."

"The staff here wear blue; I own the bakery and run the cafe." Everyone in the cafe was watching, especially the ones too polite to turn their heads. Severus could see them looking in the little mirrors on the walls.

"You are a liar, and I'm never coming back here."

"That's a splendid idea," Peverell said, and at last the woman was so offended she was speechless. "You have complained about the flavored milk having flavor, claimed your perfectly spotless silverware wasn't, and complained about the soup - both that it was bland and that you shouldn't be charged for it and that you'd like a second because it was too small a portion. You ate all but a crumb of what you claim wasn't your order and insisted on being given the other dish at no additional charge, which I quite generously approved. You have been short with the wait staff, and just addressed me as if I was an animal. I don't think I can make you happy, and at this point I think it would only do more harm to continue to try," Peverell said, catching the eye of the waiter and making a hand gesture Severus didn't understand. The woman started to sputter and inhale for some loud reaction as he walked off, but Peverell turned back suddenly. "Oh, and I can't help but notice that you have one of my forks sticking out of your bag. It is a nice set, but not half valuable enough to spend your afternoon explaining yourself to the police."

"I... I..."

"Shush," the thinner of the woman's two friends interrupted, "you said enough." The other woman had pulled down her hat to try and hide her face. Peverell came back with the bill and a man in a messy apron so tall and broad Severus wasn't sure how he fit between the delicate tables.

"I do apologize for the experience, ladies," Peverell said, turned so much toward the other two at the table he practically had his back to the shrill one. "Jack will take care of you from here. I've only charged you for what you've eaten, and not the desserts, though I think I will have to charge for the additional plate of sandwiches after all. I did take the initiative to write separate totals, should you prefer to split payment." The large man stayed right where he was while the money was counted, ensuring the stray flatware returned to the tabletop.

"Sorry for that. I'm conjuring up some shaved ice for all the tables for the inconvenience," Peverell said to Mary with a wink. "Should it be berry or caramel? I don't have many types of syrup spare. I'd make it a mint remise en bouche if I had enough. I am glad I'm the boss and Adrian is the one that has to pronounce that seventeen times in the next half hour."

"I don't think I've ever had caramel shaved ice," Mary said.

"Berry makes more sense," Lily countered.

"Some people might be allergic to berries," Severus added, and Lily glared at him.

"That's two votes caramel and one berry," Peverell said.

"I have wondered about eating something made of...," Mrs. Macdonald said thoughtfully. "A question for another time, the caramel sauce will be fine." Peverell was off again.

"If there was nothing in a bowl, and you imagine it is full of soup, you still only have the idea of soup no matter how good you are at pretending it is there," Severus muttered.

"You just made Gamp's Law make sense," Mary said, then her face fell. "Oh, no, I did not get that part of the exam right. Not even slightly."

"What did you write?" Lily asked.

"That it takes more energy to do, and the nutrition has to come from somewhere," Mary groaned.

"Where did you get that?" Lily asked. Mary looked really uncomfortable.

"Baby books," Severus said, then winced when everyone looked at him. "Filling the bottles. Men can do it to help, but it doesn't make sense to use unless you need to, and if you are hungry and use it to feed yourself, you'll only starve faster."

"Why were you reading about that?" Mr. Evans asked. Severus shrugged.

"It came up as an exception when I was reading something, but it isn't the same kind of thing at all," Severus said. "It just looks the same, but it's moving things around instead of making or inflating something. It can hurt your bones if overused, but I thought the structure was far more inefficient than it needed to be. I'm not sure how to make it better without making it hurt a lot."

"All your inventions hurt people," Lily said.

"Not all of them," Severus muttered to himself.

"Inventing things is hard work, and a lot of things blowing up in your face if I understand the process," Mr. Macdonald said. "We were talking about what Mr. Snape plans to do after school and his inventions earlier. It's quite a lofty ambition, inventing something grand. He seemed to have the leap cut down into smaller jumps, with higher education and employment in a research position. Maybe the things he makes don't work well yet, but for every light bulb or automobile, there are a hundred people trying to install screen doors on submarines."

"I know it," Mr. Evans said. "At the mill, we get all sorts claiming they can save the company money with some new invention or process. There was this one time..."

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful and mostly full of the girls taking their turn at buying new outfits. Eventually they all parted ways. Lily was still cross at him, but Mr. Evans and the Macdonads weren't. The men talked over their heads a while about the letter that came with the bank draft, but thought it would have to wait for another day when they could go to London. Severus knew he had to take the train back, but he decided to head back to Peverell's bakery first. He wasn't sure he wouldn't be a bother, but he desperately wanted to talk to the other boy without an audience.

Chapter Text

Lily Evans was having an awful week when she should have been having an amazing one. Mary's father owned two stores selling all sorts of home maintenance supplies and tools, one in Edinburgh and one in Glasgow, and so her family was quite posh compared to anyone in Cokeworth. Having the Macdonald family invite her out for a day in Birmingham including a fancy high tea and an entire morning in a salon was incredible. It got even better when Dad said Petunia would go with Mum for the day instead. Petunia had gotten more and more hostile with every year Lily attended Hogwarts, just dripping jealousy that Lily went to a posh school full of the sons and daughters of viscounts to learn to perform miracles. Petunia said it wasn't jealousy, that what Lily was doing was unnatural and wrong and she'd be going to hell for it, but she never said that part where Mum and Dad could hear her.

Mum was sick. She wouldn't talk about what was wrong, but Lily had been home from school nearly a month now and Mum hadn't gotten any better. Dad kept reminding Lily and Petunia to do chores that Mum usually took care of or even just to get them started for her, like to chop up the carrots, potatoes, and onions before it was time for Mum to make dinner or to get the laundry hung up on the line. Mum had always said she liked hanging the laundry, so it was one chore Lily and Petunia had never been asked to help with even if they were asked to help with the actual washing. Lily didn't want to say she was worried, that would make it more real, but maybe it would have been nice to have Mum along for the day trip even if it meant Petunia with all her snide remarks came along too.

The sunny yellow nails were a bit chipped now, thanks to all the chores she'd had to do in the week since, but it had been so much fun to have them done professionally like that. They'd had face masks, pedicures, and their hair shampooed and blown out as well. Mary seemed happy, even though Severus was with them for the afternoon. Lily was still mad at him, even now, but everyone else thought she was taking it too far. Dad said she was right to be angry but asked her if she'd been a bad friend to Severus recently. Then he'd said a bunch of stuff about how what has been happening to Severus really is just as bad as what had been happening to Mary, and that Lily hadn't been listening to Severus' problems. It wasn't the same! Potter, Black, and Pettigrew have been playing tricks on Severus for ages, and he's a boy, and at this point it's his fault for not avoiding them and continuing to antagonize them. Mulciber has only been going after Mary this last year, he's obviously part of that crazy Death Eater group, and Mary can't defend herself from all that. She’d even gotten pregnant, and Severus didn’t have to worry about that at all.

Dad had a long talk with Lily when they got home about what happened to Mary and how Lily might need to keep herself safer next year so she wouldn't be an easy next target. Lily hadn't thought a girl could get pregnant from that sort of thing. When all the girls in her year had gone to the infirmary to learn about periods and pregnancy, the school nurse said that love and intent were powerful magic that could make miracles. When Mum had explained about where babies came from she'd also said it was for after marriage, and that a wife would give her husband her body because she loved him to make the baby. Mary certainly didn't love Mulciber, but he'd put a baby in her anyway.

Lily saw Severus hanging around the chippy like he sometimes did a couple days later, bopping a little to the music and pretending like he didn't wish he could buy something. She'd asked him what he knew about Mulciber and Mary. He'd been a bit more hesitant to talk than usual, which she could understand since she hadn't forgiven him, but he said that Mulciber fancied Mary but couldn't act properly about it because he was an awful bigot. He also told her that he meant what he said about pretending to date Mary if she needed it, even if it meant Muciber turning on him for a bit, but he thought maybe Mary's father thought he meant something more permanent and was worried that if she got pregnant again he'd be asked to step up as the father, which was something that happened sometimes. Lily had heard it happen as part of Mum's radio dramas before. She told him he was being stupid and overthinking, that Mr. Macdonald wouldn't make him marry her over it just because he'd offered to help a little.

She'd thought he'd get defensive about how he was good enough to do it, after all he seemed to like Mary for real no matter what everyone was saying. He let her hold onto his arm. He never let Lily hang on him like that, not even back in fourth year when she'd tried to get him to take her to Hogsmeade for Valentine's. She hadn't been too upset with him for not asking then, he was right that he didn't even have enough money to buy himself lunch out, so he couldn't ask 'anyone' to go with him for Valentine's. As if it wasn't obvious that the two of them should be dating, and only weren't because he was too shy and couldn't afford to give her presents. He was all cagey about who he really fancied when they were on their outing, too, but Lily could understand not wanting to say that he really fancied Lily in front of her dad. Even if he had been awfully cold about their breakup at the beginning of fifth year. It was like he didn't even care that they didn't have their library dates anymore, he just kept talking with those horrible Slytherin boys like they were his friends. Still, it was a bit odd; Severus was just relieved when Lily assured him that their parents wouldn't expect him to get serious with Mary unless he offered.

Then Alice had called late that evening, all excited that she'd gotten the pay phone to work using Lily's instructions, and that should have been wonderful. Instead, Alice told Lily that she was off her broomstick and needed to get a grip soonish, and that Mary was mad at her for being so hostile to Severus during their day out while Severus had been on his best behavior. Then she started saying Severus had never fancied Lily because he only fancied other wizards! Lily had made all of that up in her own head, apparently, which Lily didn't believe for a second. When Lily tried explaining, Alice cut it all to ribbons by saying that no matter how muggles did things, Lily should know that Severus would do it proper with scented notes, conjured gifts if he couldn't afford real ones, and a bunch of other courting customs Lily hadn't ever heard of but vaguely remembered seeing done. Unless Severus had specifically agreed that their study sessions were dates and did things like kissing her hand when greeting her, they had never been going out and Severus probably didn't know Lily thought they had been together at all. There was no such thing as 'not being official' according to Alice, what Lily had done didn't count.

On top of that, she thought Severus didn't go after the Gryffidor boys to attack them. The way Lily expected him to fix it by hiding from them better while also not spending any time among his house mates, which was the obvious way to avoid the Gryffindor boys, wasn't fair to Snape. When he was hexing them, it was because they had hunted him down to try and rape him the same as what was happening to Mary, and he had a right to defend himself. That wasn't him antagonizing them, and Lily calling it that made her a bad friend. All in all, Alice made out like it was Lily's fault Severus was cross enough at her to start cussing in the first place. Even if what he said was completely unacceptable, he apologized properly. More than that, he was fitting actions to words and doing things that proved he was sorry and knew he'd been in the wrong, so even if she didn't want to be his friend anymore she should accept the apology while saying they were done flat out so he knew where he stood with her, that she had heard him, and understood that he could stop trying to apologize.

It was dirty quidditch to pretend his remorse wasn't genuine when she knew it was, and accepting his apology only meant hearing him out. It was not agreeing with him or forgiving him - which seemed like another bit of that cultural stuff. Severus used to talk like it was a whole different world those first few years, but once Lily got to Hogwarts it hadn't seemed so foreign. They'd still had the same kinds of food served front and center, even if there were some odd dishes on the side. The robes on boys seemed odd, but it was a bit like monks or clergy and plenty of people wore regular clothes on the weekends - at least in Gryffindor. It was all the same language just with some new terms for magic things, wasn't it? They were all British, and most of them English even if some people used old or silly words for it like Albion or Wizarding. Yet at the same time, it seemed to be happening more often that someone would be short with her over some misunderstanding. One of the Ravenclaw pure-bloods that Lily had thought was a good sort and not a blood-purist had snapped at Lily that she ought to know better by now even if she was muggle-born and stormed off in the middle of working on a group project. Lily still didn't know why she'd been upset. After the phone call with Alice, Lily wondered if all the nagging Severus had done during third year trying to get her to read books about comportment and manners with him hadn't just been him wanting company while he tried to improve his waspish temperament.

Lily hated being wrong. Severus had said he was sorry, and Mary was right that he had acted perfectly well during their day out. Or at least as normal and well-behaved as he ever was, though Peverell hadn't seemed insulted when Severus insinuated things about him being descended from elves. Lily had heard about house elves, so wasn't that like being rude about slavery? She realized she didn't even know if house elves were the only kind of elf. She also wondered if Peverell's eyes really did glow in the dark. It sounded a bit creepy, but he was fit looking even if he had needed that cane during exam week and had impressed Dad and Mr. Macdonald.

Mum had talked to Lily and Petunia about the difference between cute boys that were fun and good boys who would make proper husbands a couple times this summer, and not just because of Mary but because the boy Petunia was going with seemed flaky. She'd never thought much about her Mum dating anyone before she met dad, but they were both in their fifties and only got married the year before Petunia was born, so she must have done. Mum had even been married to someone else for a little bit! Lily had never known that, but Mum said they were both old enough to understand now.

That other man had been handsome and fun for a while, but mum shouldn't have gone with him as long as she had. He'd gotten into real trouble with the law shortly after they married. It was a big, long fight in court that took two years, and in the end Mum had to lie to the judge to get the divorce. She made out like it was only the things the other man had done to himself with opium that were why she hadn't gotten pregnant from him, as if he wasn't able to do what needed done in their bed and she had a right to leave him for someone who could give her children, but really she'd started taking special herbs (it sounded a lot like the potion Madam Pomphrey offered up to certain girls to help with their monthly) after he'd lost her trust by cheating. Once he was in prison, she'd gone straight to the magistrate to start the divorce process. Dad had swooped in shortly after that was all settled. Mum made him sound like a knight in shining armor come home from the war just for her, as if it was god's plan all along that she would go through all that so she would know how to help other women and Dad was her reward for staying strong through the bad times.

It was Mum who talked over the phone to Mrs. Macdonald about what happened to Mary before they'd decided what to do about it and suggested just ending things before they got more complicated. Mary was too young, and too small, and it could have meant her bleeding to death. Mum was a nurse before she got pregnant with Petunia and had seen it all before. The midwife they talked to up in Scotland agreed and mixed the medicine to fix it. Mum explained all of that, and then started in picking into what sort Lily and Petunia fancied. She told Lily that if Potter and all them were pretty that was fine to think about, and whatever daydreams she might have about them were fine too, but she had to start thinking about what kind of man would support her and respect her the way Dad did for Mum. Mum even pointed out how Dad had stepped up to help her and even learned to run the Hoover properly since she fell ill. Lily had to think about what she would do with her education and if she wanted a big family soonish or a small one later.

That reminded Lily that she'd talked about having kids with Severus more than once, and how she wanted her life to go in general plenty more than that. Wouldn't that count as making it clear they were dating? She'd have to remember that bit, next time she talked to Alice. Maybe she’d accidentally made out like they were too much like family to ever date by accident or something.

At that point, Lily had mentioned that Peverell looked like Potter but slimmer and slightly more exotic, with his curls growing long like that one cinnamon-skinned boy in Hufflepuff instead of sheared short, and he was running his own business already. Unfortunately, Mum had already thought about fixing them up, but Dad shut it down before she'd worked it through enough to mention. Dad told Mum that Peverell wasn't on the market, full stop. Petunia piped up to say that just meant you had to make yourself the better option, but Mum shut that down too. It would work with some boys, provided you had the color hair they liked or the sort of figure that made them weak in the knees, but other boys would just get angry if you tried to tempt them and every boy was different when it came to which things about a girl they would get stuck on. Whatever Dad had said to Mum, she was sure Peverell was well spoken for and not an option.

And Severus hadn't had the decency to mention he was bent, and he'd been her backup plan this whole time. Now the best boys were starting to be properly betrothed or whatever. For all that Alice said she'd only imagined they were going together, Severus had promised they'd be there for each other back in first year, no matter what, and that he'd always care about her, and they would never be alone so long as they were both alive. What else could that mean? Sure, he was poor as dirt and tended to work himself into a strop over silly things sometimes, but he was dead smart. Dad had been born poor, but he was so good with numbers he worked his way up to become an NCO in the military and then became a manager at the mill. Severus would probably get a good enough job for a girl to want him. Lily just didn't know how to deal with him not liking her like that. Everyone thought he did, Alice thought he did until just recently, and she wished Alice had said what it was that made her so sure he hadn't ever been all of the sudden.

Two days after the trip, Dad very awkwardly asked if she knew a bookish boy named Johnson. She'd been much too embarrassed that he even asked her about boys to talk about it. Had Mary said something to him because she was cross at her? Nobody would be impressed if she was dating Johnson. He talked about bricks, lumber, and runes all the time. What kind of weirdo liked to talk about bricks that much? Her parents were clearly talking to the Macdonalds on the phone a lot, and she thought that Alice had put her mother on the phone to talk to Mum as well. She wasn't sure why else Mum would need to give someone directions for how to talk without shouting. It was a big deal, it wasn't like Lily didn't know that, but she just didn't understand why Severus was such a big part of taking care of Mary.

Lily had been out of the house all day today but hadn’t run into Severus once. Maybe he was home? He didn't normally stay in his house much, even if it was raining, but he might have taken ill. He'd been on a prescription, after all. As she walked home, she thought about the evening of their outing, when Snape had turned away from the train station and Dad was worried he'd run off and do "something unfortunate." She didn't think he meant a crime, and his tone of voice bothered her, but then Sev had only gone back to the bakery despite it being almost two hours after closing. Peverell was still there, just locking up and looking exhausted, and he invited them all upstairs to his flat.

Lily had never been in a fully magical home. Alice had invited her last year, but when Lily explained their fireplace couldn't be used for floo travel they changed plans to a meet-up in London for shopping. It was a bit like being in the dorms, but smaller and more personalized. Snape guessed that Peverell had just taken his daily potion and that's why he flopped boneless onto the couch. The bright-eyed boy, who had earned wand rights because of his certification, summoned a teapot and his contact lenses so he could take off 'these clunky butter-smudged things, I don't know how I lived with them so long before I got proper lenses.' Peverell started up what looked like an old record player, which sang Puff the Magic Dragon and then some energetic instrumental fiddle music while Dad asked him questions about how he'd set up the business. Severus got a pot out of 'the cold cupboard' which looked like a perfectly normal cabinet aside from the frost on the shelves when Peverell asked him to. They were offered some of the stew in the pot, but Dad declined. Severus said yes but also wanted to stay the night. Peverell nagged him about if he was taking his potions on time, if he had enough on him to last through lunch tomorrow if the trains were late, if he was eating properly, if his parents would be worried, and if he should try calling them on a phone. After all that searching for a reason to say no, Peverell reversed his tone and asked if he wanted to make the sleepover a regular thing since he had a spare bedroom and Sev could try working a day or three in the bakery kitchen.

The worst part, the most unfair and intolerable part, was that Sev let him! Severus hadn't let Lily talk to him like that in months, but Peverell could do it after a couple days studying together during exams. Why? Severus didn't even seem mad, not even when Peverell came back to the couch after cleaning up for supper in the loo and toppled over onto Sev. It was pretty funny to watch. Right after taking his potion Peverell was a bit like a ragdoll. He hit his cane on Dad's shoe trying to walk past and went tumbling forward, sputtering out apologies. Severus told him to shush, then tucked him into the armchair with him instead of shoving him off, their two skinny bodies squishing close into the overstuffed seat.

Dad had been a bit odd about it, asking a lot of questions about the logistics of it all and if they'd really be fine. Peverell was fifteen until the end of July and Sev was already sixteen of course, and that didn't seem old enough to be doing any of the things they were doing. Lily was the same age, and she wouldn't know half enough to live on her own somewhere let alone run a whole business, but then the boys had started talking about budgets, keeping a schedule, and nutrition. Peverell said it would help in the evenings to have someone who wasn't floppy all over - not that she got why that of all things seemed an important thing to Dad. They were certainly trying to talk around something, and then Dad sent Lily to the little corner shop two doors down to buy a couple things in the least subtle 'get your ears out of the room' excuse she'd ever heard from him. She bought a bright pink toothbrush, the cheapest bar of soap, rosewater shampoo, and a halfpenny bag of aniseed balls. They were Sev's favorite candy. Even if she was mad enough to get him some girly stuff and claim they didn't have anything else, she'd still grabbed the candy without thinking and then didn't want to make a fuss about putting them back at the till. When she got back, Dad seemed more relaxed and was happy to leave Severus there, so she didn't have a chance to fix her mistake by claiming the candy was for her before they hurried to catch the next train home.

Lily looked up at the overcast sky, trying to clear up all her scattered, out of order thoughts. She didn't like all this... this brooding over things. She liked to live in the now, to worry only about the next school assignments or what was playing at the cinema this weekend. She didn't want to have to think back at all the shattered things she'd misunderstood or just plain missed and try and piece together how she should feel about it. She just wanted to feel the way she did and move on. It had been over a week since the outing, and Mum was still sick, and Lily hated that even more than everyone being all broody. Lily had been out since right after breakfast, and now was cold and hungry since it was all dreary today and she hadn't brought her purse to get lunch or anything. Sev was nowhere to be found, and she felt like maybe she should try talking to him again since he'd been decent at the chippy the other day. They could just get on with it, maybe not as friends the same as they had been, but not as enemies either.

She was headed home when a sound not unlike a car backfiring came from an alley between two terrace blocks too narrow to fit a car, and then Peverell stepped out onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street. He had his cane, a paper map, and was wearing jeans like a normal boy might. She caught up with him at the next crossroad.

"Sev's house is back the other way," Lily called out, and Peverell turned surprised green eyes on her. "If you go back to that crossroad there, and take a right then a left, then over the little bridge over the creek, and then immediately take a left and a right, you'll find Spinner's is the last street of terraces. You can see the allotments down the end of it, even from the corner. The Snapes are the last house. If you see the wall around the mill, you went a block too far. If you see the river, you went the wrong way."

"Oh, that's very helpful to know, but it was Mr. Evans who invited me around. Severus is with a solicitor, and I'd just be worrying myself spare and unable to concentrate on my work if I stayed in Birmingham," Peverell said politely.

"I didn't know we were having company," Lily said, trying to remember if anything was said over breakfast. She'd been in rather a hurry to leave.

"Well, nice to see you again," he said awkwardly, pressing his eyes shut a moment as if he knew exactly how unenthusiastic that came out.

"So, it's Severus now?"

"Oh, yeah. Living together, even if just part of the week, has been different."

"Not used to dorm life?" Lily guessed.

"I had six older brothers and a sister, so that's debatable, but it's different with just two people," Peverell said to the sky, walking easily. Lily supposed he hadn't taken that potion he needed yet.

"I suppose it would be, if you were used to being all crowded on top of each other," Lily said.

"We start work at half past three in the morning to get all the dough ready for the day, and the kitchen staff is all the same sort so that wouldn't be an issue. I'd expected a couple other guys to stay over sometimes, because of the time and some of them taking the train in, so I put a bunk bed in the spare room. It's been Severus in the top bunk like a raven in his nest three nights a week saving on train fare, and that's it. A couple guys said they'd keep it in mind if they had an emergency, but nobody really wants to hang out with their boss after hours. It's tough, being in charge when sometimes all I want to do is goof off, but I'm already making moves to leave for school."

"How is that going to work?" Lily asked.

"I'd planned to sell the whole business by the end of August, it was only supposed to be a summer thing, but it's looking like I'll sell slices of it while looking for a good manager to run it for me. I talked to a goblin at the bank, and then they assigned me an account manager to advise me. He wanted me to sell no more than forty-nine percent and keep full control, but I don't think I could do that while I'm still in school without Trolling my way out or messing things up so bad I lose all the money still in the business. So long as I keep a bit more than any other single person, I could be a tiebreaker vote for big changes, which is plenty enough responsibility."

"Could you sell all the slices if you wanted to?" Lily asked. "If you don't want to do it and nobody wants to buy the whole thing outright, I mean."

"If I can find enough people who want to buy it, I could, but I'm not so sure I want to anymore. The account manager said with how well it was doing, it would be stupid to sell the whole thing. As the business matures and establishes a reputation it will be worth more and more over time, so keeping a slice of it for myself would be a good investment. So far, if I sold to everyone who is asking, I'd still have about a third of it left, and the rest split five ways, but I also have to think about who I'm selling it to and some of them... Let's just say I don't want to accidentally fund any cult activities. Or to become business partners with criminals. There is one person who wants the whole thing that I like, but McKinnon can't afford it outright and he's worried the interest on a loan that large would be a problem. I've considered hiring him as the manager, since he seems to know his stuff, and if he owns a slice of it he'll be more inclined to do a good job. I... I honestly think Gringotts has overvalued it, but I'm not going to question their appraisals anywhere it might get back to them," Peverell said with a little nervous giggle.

"Certainly not when they are inflating it in your favor," Lily agreed. It really was a shame he was off limits. That giggle was so cute!

"I guess," he shrugged. "How's your summer been?"

"Not nearly as busy as all that. Not much ever happens in Cokeworth, it's pretty ordinary," Lily sighed. "Everyone says I should square things with Sev."

"He was pretty happy you are talking to him again, even if it's just about Mary and that," Peverell looked away when he said that. "He swears up and down he never fancied you, so I guess I have to believe him despite that."

"Alice told me he's bent," Lily spat. Peverell whipped his head around to look at her.

"You... have a problem with that?"

"Not," Lilly heaved a huge sigh, "not hypothetically, like if it was anyone else that’s fine."

"Did you fancy him?" Peverell said slowly, as if he'd gotten to some complex part of a lesson and couldn't follow what the professor was trying to say.

"He didn't tell me! We promised, ages ago, that we'd always have each other if things went wrong. Like, as a backup, so we wouldn't end up alone. He should have told me he only liked boys, since he wouldn't be able to keep his promise."

"I, um, I'm not sure I should say," Peverell said. Lily stopped walking and crossed her arms. Her house was just next door, and she didn't want Petunia to peek out a window and decide to eavesdrop.

"Say what?"

"He plays both teams." Peverell said quietly, looking embarrassed. "He, well, several people have told me he fancies a certain guy right now, but he's not done anything about it, and he's told me there were girls he liked before. Not who, just that he has. I don't know, he doesn't seem to like talking about it with me. Not directly, anyway."

"Oh. I didn't know that was a thing." Lily stared at him in shock.

"It's a very real thing. That I thought I was, at least for a while," Peverell blushed when he said so. "I figured out I don't play for both teams, there was just one person I cared about enough to force myself through a few dates, but it took what I think was an embarrassingly long time to sort through it all. Also, more cider than anyone should have at a party and someone I'd been arguing with for years that I ended up snogging just to shut up, and then we agreed to never talk to each other again, but yeah. I don't know how Severus figured himself out, or when. He seems a lot more confident about it than I am, come to that. Maybe he just didn't want to talk about it when you were fighting about the whole thing with Mulciber, Potter, and Black and all that mess."

"Avery is just as bad, even if he wasn't the one peeping or, you know," Lily insisted.

"I think, you might have to trust that your friend is a good person even if sometimes he doesn't do things exactly the way you want them done. He's smart, he knows what he can get away with and not get attacked while he sleeps." Lily pouted. If he'd just said the first part, she could have said he'd only heard Sev's side, but that last bit was a good point.

"I'll think about it," Lily said instead. "My house is just there."

"If I'm not wrong, thinking about it from his side is all Severus ever wanted from you." Ugh, Peverell was one of those boys who just had to have the last word, wasn't he?

Chapter Text

It had been nearly a year in the 70's and Harry thought he wasn't doing too badly for himself. Sure, he'd gotten himself sectioned at the beginning, and he had to accept living as a teenager despite having about 25 years of wisdom in his head. Talking his way out of the bad old days of mental health care where any 'overly excitable' behaviors won you either a dose of a sedative or something that sent you to have tea with the March Hare at best was a challenge that had him learning mental control and compartmentalization that he hadn't had when he was fifteen the first time. He managed to learn a bit during his auror training later in life, but he was certainly better at it now than he'd ever been before. He had a lot of secrets to keep hidden, first and foremost that he had the personification of Death as a buddy who kept watch over him and offered favors.

Unfortunately, Death was sometimes hard to understand, as you might expect from an eldritch entity, but Harry wasn't supposed to worry about that because he'd been assured he'd "just know" when something needed doing by various spirits Death sent to help Harry acclimate. Harry could now tell when someone's number was coming up, which was creepy and he wished he wasn't given that gift, but that dumb luck that had always been the most dependable tool in his arsenal had evolved into a much more tangible power so there was some upside to it all. His gut feelings were much more specific and felt more like divination and less like guesswork. It wasn't as strong or specific as that time he'd taken Felix Flexis, but Harry could make the comparison without feeling like he was using ridiculously overblown hyperbole. He'd never felt he understood the art outside of Firenze's classes, but once he was allowed escorted visits to the public library in Transition Alley, he did a bit of reading up on what Trelawney had never managed to teach him.

Transition Alley ran through wizard space in a manner that completely ignored muggle geometry and architecture starting just behind St. Mungos to terminate at Diagon Alley near Flourish and Blotts. It curved a bit through a small neighborhood of middle-class flats on cross-streets named after trees. It also crossed Practic Alley, which had quieter professional offices and tradesmen on the ground floor with rather fancy looking flats above. Pracic ran up one side of Gringotts to form the other leg of the big Y-junction square with Diagon. Nocturn Alley fed into the district on the opposite side of Diagon from Practic and Transition.

As an adult in the 00's, Harry had come to understand that Nocturn's neighborhood wasn't "the place evil people lived" but was in fact a slum with the cheapest rents in London - including the muggle side of things - and the mix of the desperate, the poor, and fresh graduates trying to get started in life naturally spawned pick-pockets and opportunists with a wide range of excuses for their actions. Most of the shops were perfectly respectable businesses, even if some paid under the table or weren't quite up to date for their codes or inspections. Others sold second-hand or knockoff goods, which for someone with money problems came in handy. It was also where a lot of adult-oriented businesses, from the oldest profession to midwives and nightclubs, were located, so even if the likes of Mrs. Weasley may shop there, she wouldn't have ever brought any children with her. It was a lot more pleasant to visit at night, since most places were shuttered to prevent vandals or thieves easily breaking expensive glass windows until three in the afternoon or so. There was one extremely busy breakfast cafe open down the far end of Nocturn that doubled as an entrance to the magical district that had been Harry's inspiration for his bakery.

The 42 Bakery, which had a mailing address of 420b but that sounded like an entirely different sort of bake to his ears, was half-magic and half-muggle. Unlike The Leaky Cauldron, which couldn't be seen by muggles even though it stood at the borderline, Harry designed the business so that 42 served people in a completely mundane fashion in the front and remodeled three small rooms in the back for magical customers. Previously, those rooms were office and storage space, but by knocking an archway out of a wall to connect the small and mid-sized ones into a nice sized cafe and making the third into an exclusive room for high tea and blue-bloods, he had plenty of space for all types of customers. Some runes and a few conditional muffling charms ensured that parents of muggle-born kids could talk about whatever even when seated in the muggle-facing side, which was tricky to do since the standard muggle confounding spells weren't fit for purpose. Harry bent the spells he needed to suit the job at hand, and they seemed to hold fine for the inspectors. It wasn't really a new invention, though Severus had cooed and gushed over the magic when they talked about it one day after work. He had counter service for anyone wanting to pay for their hand pies and pantry staples in Goblin coin. There was both a warded alley entrance with a registered apparition point and a floo connection for wizards to get in without all of them having to be escorted into 'the back' by the hostess.

His alley wasn't connected to the magical neighborhood in Birmingham, the cost of that kind of real estate was well out of his price range, but he'd secured a rent to own contract from an aging man who had to close the old sandwich shop he'd inherited from his grandfather when his sons declined to take on the family trade. The elderly man had come by for the grand opening, staring open-mouthed at the sort of renovation that would have taken six months or more if not for magic. Harry didn't correct him when he supposed they'd fit three dozen workmen in the building all at once to get it done in two weeks, and only vaguely said there were modern ways of doing things while pointing out the way he'd simply repainted most of the walls and swapped out furniture.

Harry was glad he'd learned enough about electricity to know he shouldn't let anyone mess with it who wasn't qualified, and the most expensive work done in the renovation was a muggle-born wizard who had taken up his father's trade as an electrician. Harry's advert in the paper for a qualified electrician had only found the man, who had all but left the magical world behind, thanks to a friend of a friend showing it to him. Between nepotism and prejudice, the skilled wizard had found better and more comfortable employment on the muggle side of things, even if he did have to go through all the trouble to register his home as a magical residence and convert some pounds over to pay his counsel tax. Being the only qualified wizard that could do the job in the entire country by Harry's reckoning, the man had essentially gotten to name his price. Harry's offer to use his cousin at the Prophet to get a good, fully animated ad for his business in the magical paper helped soften the blow to his bank ledger, but it was still a hefty fee.

All of Harry's employees were muggle-born, half, or squibs. Not because he wouldn't hire pure-bloods, but because none applied. He paid fair wages according to what he'd learned by asking at other cafés around Birmingham. The managers and staff he talked to had all thought he was thinking about a first job, rather than opening his own place, so they had been relatively up front with him. The muggle-born adults flooing in for work said he paid good wages compared to what they'd been offered at any magically owned establishment, while for others it was their first job or just a summer gig before going back to school. The head chef said when he was hired that if he had any serious trouble about being a squib he'd be out the door. Benny Housemen had been working in muggle kitchens, but his kid had started doing accidental magic and his wife as a muggle-born witch he'd met when she'd been renting a room in Nocturn, so the family was trying to re-integrate into Albion's culture and economy.

It was hard to rent a flat anywhere in Albion in better condition than what might be found in Nocturn when employed by a muggle business, no matter how much you were taking in, so that was where Harry had targeted his job listings. Harry couldn't pay what Benny asked for straight off, but offered the man a contract with a profit-based bonus that should pay even better than what Benny asked for once things got going. Harry's account manager at the bank, a wizened old Goblin named Eekut, had helped him write it to ensure it was iron-clad, and then the bakery took off so well and so fast that Benny was grinning ear to ear and joking about how Harry shouldn't have negotiated by the time he got his third pay packet.

The bakery really was doing well. All those hours sitting with Luna watching crap TV to try and turn his anxiety off had been surprisingly useful. He'd learned from Gordon Ramsey shouting about keeping things as simple and clean as you could in a kitchen. There were exotic foods and interesting combinations from challenge shows. That home renovation show about flipping properties had advice for how to renovate on the cheap. There was that business show with the investors, and the baking shows all had relevant advice.

Harry had been the one switching to the baking shows. Aunt Petunia had insisted he cook for the family, from an age so young it was a wonder he hadn't burnt their house down. That mostly meant fry-ups and roasts, but she'd had him do the more tedious parts of making fancier things. She didn't like to let him near a pint of berries, rightly sure he'd sneak a few, and the same went for icing. Instead, he would make puff pastry, or blind-bake pie crust, or whip up egg whites. Anything that was slow or took a lot of work. It had been the only thing he'd missed when she eventually decided it was 'too dangerous' to give him huge lists of chores to do, and he'd been hurt when his offers to help with making pudding at The Burrow were put down as unnecessary by Mrs. Weasley. Eventually, he'd just brought an over-sized chiffon cake over, covered in a generous amount of lemon whip and blackberries, and then nearly splattered it in Percy's face when he congratulated Ginny on finally making an edible cake. They hadn't even arrived together!

Harry made that same chiffon cake and sold it as the bakery's signature sweet: The 42 Chiffon. A hothouse just outside Hogsmeade promised to provide the berries year-round at a decent price, among other fresh fruits and herbs. Harry added "American Style" ice cream, which he had to explain to the staff.

"You want to charge how much for a scoop of ice cream in a crepe?" Benny asked at the second weekly staff meeting after Harry hired Severus.

"I know what Mr. Whippy charges, and that's because his product is made out of vegetable oil instead of cream. The Americans have regulations for how little milk can be in something before it can't legally be called ice cream," Harry said calmly. "We don't, and so a lot of cheap ice cream has an ingredients list that more closely resembles cheap mayonnaise than any kind of dairy. You just leave out the vinegar and freeze it."

"Hold on, are you saying there's no cream in the ice cream?" Adrian asked, indignant.

"There's some, but it's stretched out to keep costs down. Like trying to cut butter with margarine, which might work if you only use a little or if you do it for a white cake, but eventually you end up with flavorless croissants if you take it too far. I got this recipe on a trip to Arizona. While I won't ever order a tea over there again unless I'm craving a glass of cold simple syrup, the people living in a blazing hot desert know their frozen treats. Everyone have a taste, you'll see what I mean. No offense to Fortescue's, but there is certainly room in the market for a little competition." Harry let everyone try a spoonful of the ice cream he made.

"Fuck!" Severus shouted. He'd been the first to try the special dark chocolate one he'd mixed up instead of the vanilla or strawberry. Harry got him some of the vanilla in a hurry, and Severus glared at him, sniffing the spoon experimentally before shoving it in his mouth with visible relief.

"Chocolate, cayenne pepper, and cinnamon," Harry said, standing proudly behind his creation. "I call it frozen hot chocolate."

"No shit?" Benny asked, going for a taste himself. The man took a deep steadying breath. "The normal flavors are incredible, and even this one is smooth as butter, but you can't serve that one as it is. We'll have complaints." The other staff said it couldn't be that hot if it was frozen, but then every one of them agreed they needed something to put the fire out after a taste.

"I can't imagine eating a bowl of that," Adrian said.

"Do none of you eat curry?" Harry asked, shocked that everyone hated it.

"That's spicier than curry, mate," Adrian insisted, backing away from the table.

"It's based off a Mexican style hot chocolate, and I even toned down the cayenne." Harry took a spoon, worried he'd messed it up somehow, but it was fine. "This is mild compared to what I made for myself."

"This is the mild version?" Severus asked. "A Gryffindor wouldn't eat a double scoop of it on a dare."

"Maybe just the cinnamon?" Benny suggested. "That would make it nice and warm rather than blazing."

"Or we could serve it half this and half vanilla, or one with marshmallow ribbons to keep the hot chocolate theme," one of the other waitresses, Laura, suggested. "This stuff is posh, and pricey, so having some fancy exotic flavors to talk the toffs into might help sell it. Like with the lavender cupcakes, nobody wants to eat something that smells of laundry soap unless you're too rich to have ever used laundry soap."

"Eat three scoops," Harry said thoughtfully, wondering if going out twice a month with one or both Patil sisters for the best part of a year had done something to his tongue that even reversing time hadn't fixed, "of my original recipe, and win a photo on the wall and a free... something."

"Like a pub challenge?" Benny asked.

"Any eight-inch pie, maybe?" Harry suggested. "Is that too much? It would have to be worth more than the ice cream to be a decent prize, but I don't want a lot of people walking away with too much free food."

"I really don't think we have to worry about too many people winning if we use your original recipe. We can sleep on it and pick something tomorrow morning, but remind me never to trust you about how spicy something is," Benny said. There was a general murmur of agreement.

"What dishwater curry are they serving around here?" Harry thought aloud.

"Oh, we're going out now," Adrian said, pointing between Harry and himself. Harry reared back and looked him up and down. "Not like that, there's a place downtown that says if you finish their spicy curry you get half off the bill for the whole table. They probably have a limit of like four people or whatever, but come on." The waiter looked around at the other staff. "Let's see if anything can burn the boss' mouth off like he just did to us. Who's with me?"

Harry had everyone on board for their premium ice cream menu, including what to charge for scoops added to other orders and magically spun milkshakes at a price high enough that should mean they don't run out of milk making them. Laura and Severus painted a gorgeous sign for the window that declared 'No fillers or fakes, quality cream in our shakes!' while the rest of them finished cleaning and prepping for the next day.

Then, he was herded down the road and into a curry house by Adrian, Severus, Laura, and John - their dishwasher and cranky customer remover. John said he wasn't really a quarter giant, but everyone figured that just meant he was an eighth instead. The others either had plans or didn't want to come, with Benny phoning his wife before going home to meatloaf made from scratch. Poor man looked so sad when he said it, but then Harry had seen Ginny in the kitchen.

It was a nice place, not a dive and not too fancy, and it seemed fine that they were all still in their work uniforms. Pale blue for the wait staff, white for John and Severus' kitchen uniforms, and Harry in bright red, and all of them with flour or grease on them somewhere. Harry pulled off his pill box hat, leaning back so he could put up his hair in a straw wrapper he discreetly transfigured into a clip. The waitress clearly thought it was some kind of dare, smirking when Adrien ordered the curry challenge plate for Harry. She asked if Harry wanted it with pork or chicken, looking pointedly at Severus for some reason. While they waited, Harry tried to stay involved in the conversation about music, if the English team had any chance for the cup (all carefully worded with no proper nouns or names,) and other small talk, but Severus kept bumping Harry's knee with his leg and it was the most distracting thing Harry had ever had to ignore in his life.

With how they'd met and now that Harry was his boss, he'd have to be seven kinds of monster to do anything about it. Headmaster Snape's memories had not conveyed how adorable he was when happy and not wearing a mask. The little smile, the sass, the way he twisted himself when he was shy as if he was soaked in words and had to wring himself out to speak them... Harry wanted to kiss him like he wanted breath in his body, but he couldn't put that kind of pressure on Severus. Sure, Severus asked to stay with him part of the week, but that was just practical. Same for giving him permission to use his given name, which was important for a traditional wizard. He was nicer than Harry had expected, but that might be because he hadn't been made bitter by the war yet. White daisies kept popping up all over the flat, but Snape seemed to like flowers more than the average bloke with how he always smelled of rosewater. Gregory Evans, his grandfather (even if the man didn't know it) had asked them point-blank if there was going to be any 'funny business' about them sharing a bed, and Harry had gushed out a lot of mess about how the potion dropped his blood pressure so much that wasn't possible, and he wasn't even sixteen until the end of July, and there was a bunk bed in the spare room... and thank Merlin Severus stopped his verbal diarrhea by saying they weren't even dating, and asking the man if he'd kissed every girl he met when he was their age.

Harry had conjured a few flowers of his own, lavender because of what Severus' letters started to smell of once he was home for a while, and a few extra daisies. He caught Severus smiling at them, so he was sure to conjure some replacements before Severus came back the following week and stuffed them in a pitcher. Severus had spread them out all around the place, and this morning there was a white rose petal in the sugar bowl when Harry went to fix his tea. If Severus started putting roses everywhere he might just explode, innocent white buds or not. And he couldn't even masturbate about it, because of the stupid potion!

The curry served to him came in a wok with a fair amount of fanfare to announce the challenge to the room. Thankfully it wasn't a full-sized wok, but Laura said just smelling it was making her eyes burn. The waitress stayed to watch him eat the first bite, but there was a front of house manager or something that came over with her and shooed her off. To win the challenge he couldn't share after all, so they would have to watch the table. Fucking hell, but it was hot. It wasn't all hot peppers, though. Under the fire there was a great blend of spices on marinated chicken, onion, and tomato.

"Oh, this is good," Harry said, going for a second and a third bite before taking a bit of rice. Severus had ordered the cheapest option, which was a vegetarian yellow curry, and took a hesitant bite.

"Right, so, we knew he was nuts," Adrien said. "I mean that with all due respect for my employer."

"No, it's good. Hot as the sun, but besides that, this is good food," Harry insisted, blinking back tears.

"Your mouth says one thing, but I don't think the rest of you agrees," John said, then took a bite of his own tikka masala. Harry's was probably a really good vindaloo they mixed extra chili paste into before dumping a bunch of sliced peppers on top for a dramatic look. Sure, he might be sweating and there were tear tracks down his face, and it was the hottest thing his fifteen-year-old body had ever consumed by a wide margin, but the food was still good quality. He was glad he ordered a lassi instead of a coke, sipping it was his only relief.

"I can't believe you're nearly finished," Laura said. "Mine isn't half as hot as that, and I can't eat any more."

"Parvati's incarnation better be feeling proud of me right now," Harry said, panting a bit.

"Who's that?" Laura asked.

"Friend of mine. I found out I got my curls from India, and when I told her, she and her sister made it their mission to burn the beige out of me." Parvati had taken belated revenge for how Harry treated her at the Yule Ball fourth year in the form of feeding him blazingly hot food when he'd cautiously asked them for help with the revelation that his grandparents had been Hindu. Their bodies were still in the quarantine-sealed house and he wanted to bury them properly and learn a bit about it all. Padma had been too happy to help, coming to the old manor home to explain the alter and roasting Ron in absentia by suggesting all the boys in Harry's dorm were cultureless bores who thought a bit of black pepper made something spicy. Harry paid for and ate whatever they chose for him while listening to them explain everything from who the gods were to all the ways the British Raj had been evil. He'd decided not to convert early on, but he wanted to know what it was all about before he finalized the decision. Besides, it had been something to do with himself, and what kind of Gryffindor chickened out over a few spicy vegetables?

"They died in the raid?" Severus asked quietly.

"That is what only survivor means," Harry said, mixing the last few bites of his curry around. Then, much quieter, "Fiendfyre."

"Shit," Adrien mumbled, "sorry."

"Don't be, it's good memories," Harry said, taking a quick sip of his lassi before going for the rest. There was a nice sized chunk of a chili pepper sitting right in the middle.

"What's this about some scrawny little boy eating all my spicy curry?" an old man with skin like a paperbark maple tree, all stretched looking and ruddy brown, called out. He had a tall chef's hat, a wide grin, and had captured the attention of the whole room. "Where are you all from?"

"We work at The 42 Bakery," John said, hooking a thumb towards Harry. "That's the boss. He even puts hot pepper in chocolate ice cream."

"I didn't invent it; I just froze a hot cocoa recipe from Mexico. This is brilliant Vindaloo," Harry said to John and then head chef, digging back in.

"Quite a young man, for running a bakery."

"Peverell owns it, but the head chef is named Houseman," Adrien explained while Harry ate. "When he's cooking it's Houseman giving the boss orders, but once he's up front handling customers it's obvious who runs the place."

"I think I've singed my nose hairs just sitting next to you," Severus said.

"I'd share, but I'm not allowed to," Harry threatened.

"That's the only reason I came along," Laura said. "If you weren't doing the challenge, we'd all have to try your definition of medium spice, or else you'd send it back as not hot enough and none of us would ever be able to eat normal food here again."

"I know how to be polite in someone else's restaurant," Harry said over his last bite. The chef clapped and congratulated him, and then Harry had to explain about how a lot of British ice cream couldn't legally be called ice cream across the pond to the chef here. "You just can't drink their tea."

"Ah, I know. A cousin of mine brought me back a bottle of instant tea mix when she visited Florida." The old chef chuckled. "She also said she ordered something called biscuits and gravy that explained why so many Americans are fat."

"Biscuits and what?" Adrien asked.

"She said it was like a scone, and the gravy was white, but I couldn't make any sense of the rest of what she said," the chef said.

"That sounds worse than unexpected peppers ruining chocolate ice cream," Severus chimed in.

"Nice meeting the new neighbors, but I must get back to the kitchen. Enjoy your discount tonight, only one per customer per lifetime," the old man said. The waitress came over to take desert orders. Harry was stuffed, it had been a very large portion after all, so he just ordered another lassi to try and counter the heat he was still feeling. When Severus hesitated to order something for after, Harry squeezed his knee and hoped he understood that Harry had him if he was short.

"Did I see a rose and cardamom lassi on the menu?" Harry asked.

"Yes, would you like that instead of the plain?" the waitress asked. Harry looked at Severus, but his face had gone very blank.

"Yes," Harry said. When it arrived, he offered Severus some. It was similar to how he'd gotten Severus to snack a bit while they were at Hogwarts, getting things for himself and then offering to share. Severus took the straw out of his water so they weren't sharing one.

"Pass it down this way?" Laura asked.

"You have cake," Harry pointed out. "It tastes like unset Turkish delight mixed with yogurt."

"It is very pink," John said. "Can't share that with a girl without starting rumors."

"Lots of food is pink," Harry dismissed. Severus' knee bumped his, and he bumped back. "Your curry was pink, that's just what happens when you mix red tomatoes and white yogurt, and you shared that around."

"Snape just needs feeding, and the boss likes to feed people" Adrien said. "I tell people we have a miniature cake decorator, and then have to specify that the cakes are full size."

"I can do the petite fours, too," Severus quipped, shifting so his leg was pressed against Harry's from ankle to knee. Then, less confidently, "I'm not that small."

"It's not the size of the spoon," Harry began, and then he had to defend himself from a bunch of used paper napkins flying at him. "Hey, hey, alright, but you can't get any jam out of a jar with a soup ladle is all I wanted to say."

"Alright," Laura said, "I'll admit I haven't heard that one, so I'll bite. What the fuck does that mean?"

"If you had to, and you knew what you were doing, and you had the time, you could get your toast buttered and jammed with a toothpick, but while you can slap some butter around with a soup ladle, you'll never get it in the jar. There is no floor if you have skill, but there is a ceiling," Harry said.

"I..." Adrien began, "No, I need you to back up that whole thing."

"Every known half-giant comes from a giantess and a wizard, because a great big ladle doesn't fit in a little jam jar," Harry said confidently, holding up his left hand with his pointer finger just touching his thumb and then smacking that hole with a closed fist to illustrate the problem.

"Christ on a bike, I meant like pretend she hadn't asked, not cite your sources," Adrien moaned, clapping his hands on his ears dramatically. Laura choked on her cake and John let out a deep chuckle. "The boys back at Beauxbatons are not going to believe how I spent my summer when I tell them I went out with my boss to eat the spiciest curry in the country, and he proved with inarguable citation that small dicks get the job done better."

"I meant versatility, but..." Harry was cut off.

"Why are you in Birmingham," Severus asked, changing the subject, "or maybe, why do you go to Beauxbatons?"

"My mother hated her Hogwarts years," Adrien said. "Dad's always been a bit upset I'm going overseas, and the fees and paperwork and all that is a hassle, but he can't argue against what mum said about her school days. He just wishes there was another option with real instruction instead of just self-study or by mail."

"I can understand that," Severus said. Harry couldn't bump his leg with them already pressed together, but he could scoot the lassi over in front of Severus.

"The headmaster plays favorites. We knew that even where I came from. Not so much by house the way some people claim, but he picks individuals he thinks will serve the greater good of magical society. He gets a plan in his head, some lofty idea that this kid or that one is going to be good for the world, and then he tries to help them along. It doesn't always work, and his idea of acceptable losses when achieving a good end has ruffled a lot of feathers. He hasn't picked a Slytherin in a long while, true, but I think that's just because ambitious people with a strong sense of self-preservation either don't need help finding a path that might better our entire society or else are just harder to manipulate using his preferred methods. I think the last time he tried to go all father figure on a Slytherin student to get them on what he considered the right path, Tom Riddle told him to fuck off. Then Dumbledore either chose not to explain The Blitz to the current headmaster or actively downplayed how dangerous it was for unrelated reasons, Riddle got shipped home for the holidays into a warzone, and the kid developed a god complex from surviving for some reason or another. Changed his name to 'flight from death' but then nobody teaches poor orphan boys how to properly pronounce French, so, Vol-de-more where you do pronounce the 'T' at the end was born."

"Hogwarts sent kids home during the Blitz?" Laura asked.

"That's part of why Mum didn't want me going there," Adrien said. "She was fine, because it was all but over before she started school and she's a Brummie anyway, Nazis never got this far, but she remembers her parents panicking about having to pick her older sister up from the train in London. They sent everyone back just the same way, instead of having the train stop north of the bombings. Beauxbatons has - I think it's called Muggle Studies here - as a required class, and Wizard Culture too. For everyone and not just the muggle-born kids or whatever."

"There isn't an extra culture class for muggle-born students at Hogwarts," Severus said.

"Really? I thought Mum said there was, but people who are half like she is weren't allowed in even though she wanted to take it," Adrien said thoughtfully. "I'll have to check with her."

"Dumbledore's idea of equality over fairness," Harry muttered. "Giving everyone exactly the same treatment isn't always fair. Imagine if Professor Flitwick and the groundskeeper were given the same size chairs as the purely human staff. Thats equal, but it isn't fair."

"You said he plays favorites," John pointed out.

"And if you aren't one of the chosen he deems worthy, you get the same treatment as everyone else," Severus explained. "Which is that you suck it up and carry on, and if one of the golden children steps on you to reach their goals you should be grateful for the privilege of being a stepstool." Harry nodded at Severus' assessment.

"Right now, it seems like he thinks these two boys in our year are destined to be the finest aurors the force has seen in decades, so if they get some practice hunting criminals by going after people they think are evil they get a bit of extra leniency even when they are wrong or go way too far," Harry explained. "Severus has been on the wrong end of that, because he finds creepy magic fascinating on an academic rather than practical level. As a Peverell, and given my natural talents, I figure I have no chance at beating the reputation that family name comes with and I'll be pegged as evil too."

"Your natural talent for making a perfect chiffon cake even in your sleep, or your ability to eat food that classifies as a war crime as if you are half-dragon?" Adrien asked.

"You haven't read the Tale of Three Brothers, have you?" Harry asked. "Not all the rumors and fairy tales are true, of course, but they all sprung from something. Besides, knowing the future is often much worse than being surprised, and the curse of Cassandra drops down on me like a ton of bricks at the worst moments, so I do try to button up and keep it all to myself. I don't mind saying I think Dumbledore's current pet projects were slated to crash and burn before they turned twenty, though I may have accidentally helped them out by getting them to experience some real consequences before they slipped down that particular slope."

"You think Potter and Black will fail out? They get top grades, and don't ask me how with all the other stuff they are doing," Severus snapped. Harry took a sip of the nearly empty drink and sighed, then he explained. Harry's eyes glazed over a bit as he tried to think about everything he knew of the Marauders and work out the general shape of their future, leaning heavily on his oddly specific gut feelings about the whole thing.

"I doubt they will make it through auror training with the path they are on now. What's been allowed to happen is all a waste, really, and the way he's gone about it means it's only making them a more vicious and insular little group that feels they are above the rules rather than fostering brotherhood and teamwork or making Black into an example of how good people might discard racist traditions. Being a rabid classicist instead of a rabid racist isn't an improvement, it's just a different sort of awful. Even if they are a little better prepared for the exciting parts of being on the force, they won't tolerate all the rest. Being told what to do and when, having to follow regulations, only catching people who are properly guilty, following evidence rather than emotions, and all the paperwork. Once they don't have ready targets in the form of schoolyard rivalries, it'll get nasty fast, especially for Pettigrew since he's never wanted to be an auror. He just likes to watch people get the tar beaten out of them and sneak about looking at knickers, and frankly it isn't Dumbledore's side of politics that offers that kind of entertainment as a bonus."

"Well, shit, the boss is a real seer, the kind that don't get stuck talking in riddles unless he's in front of the person he's talking about," John said. "I promise I won't ask you, ever, about any specific future plans I have. I know better than to tickle sleeping dragons."

"You've got nothing to worry about that you can't handle." Harry waved a hand dismissively.

"And that's as specific as I want you to be about it," John said with a nod.

"How many kids will I have?" Laura asked. Everyone gave her an incredulous look. "What? A girl has to have plans, and I'm twenty-one already. I've got to catch a man soonish."

"You'll have to remember my family name and come up with a question I can answer, because I've got nothing for that one," Harry said with a shrug.

"Am I supposed to ask you when I'll die?" Laura asked sarcastically.

"Either the ninth of June 1999, the eleventh of December 2036, or the tenth of August 2056," Harry voiced the chill whisper that murmured in his ear, the timbre of his voice nearly unrecognizable for a moment. Laura dropped her fork. In his normal speaking voice he continued, "Every choice you make matters, and that's only the three most probable dates based on your current plans, health, and all that."

"Either I'll die on my forty-fifth birthday or make it to a hundred and two," Laura said.

"Free will exists, but it seems like you'll go in the summer," Harry said with a shrug.

"That's pretty damn specific for someone who claims predestination isn't a thing in the next breath," Severus said.

"I see what you mean about being creepy enough to be a target," Adrien mumbled. "That's one hell of a natural talent."

"I think we settle up and get out of here before we learn something we don't want to know," John cut off any further conversation.

Harry tried to cover the whole bill, arguing that they could take turns covering the tab. Adrien and John said Harry had already 'paid' for half the meal, so why not have it work that way with the person who picked the place paying half off the top and then everyone chipping in for their part of the remainder. John said it would keep it square in case somebody ordered the most or least expensive thing on the menu, and he sounded like he was speaking from some bad experience he'd had in the past. Lauren thought it would be way too much maths especially if 'the adults among us' had alcohol, but Severus piped up to make it three against two so Harry conceded. Severus also insisted on paying for half the rose lassi, and then they were all parting ways and heading home.

"I am so late taking my potion," Harry said when he caught sight of the time displayed on a bank branch sign. It was still a bright Thursday afternoon, since the Bakery didn't stay open past 2pm except Fridays and weekends.

"I took mine before we left the bakery," Severus said. "Are you alright?"

"I don't really need it anymore, at least not for the tendon repair and muscle redevelopment it's meant for. I'm only still taking it at all because if I don't wean myself off it slowly, I risk going into withdrawal and having a seizure or heart attack. I feel fine right now, and I'm down to an eighth dose so I'll be off it after my birthday, or that's the plan anyway. They pushed back when I was supposed to stop taking the full dose twice last spring, and then they kept me on a half-dose for ages because my right quadriceps wouldn't get with the program."

"I didn't know going off a potion could make you sick," Severus said. "I thought you needed to take the full course to get all the benefits and ensure they are permanent."

"It's a chemical addiction, er, I don't think magical medicine uses a separate phrase for the different types of addictions," yet anyway. "To use laymen's terms, I'm not addicted to it mentally or emotionally or whatever you want to call it, only physically, so it's not as hard to kick."

"Can you explain the difference?" Severus asked.

"My body got so used to having the potion, that it's changed how some of the essential systems are regulated to compensate. It had to, because the potion is invasive and if my body kept operating normally around it my blood would have gone all out of whack. The body tries to maintain homeostasis, and the side effects of that class of potion really throw that off."

"I know about homeostasis." Severus rolled his eyes. "So, your body adapted to having the potion, and in order for it to heal you without killing you, it changed your blood."

"Yes, and blood being what it is, any change affects just about everything. Blood pressure is my biggest problem. My heart and bone marrow and so on are working to overcome the artificially lowered blood pressure and relaxed blood vessels all the time, and it will take a while for everything to get back to normal. If I just stop taking it, my blood pressure will shoot up and cause all sorts of problems. Hermes will take a long time to train up as a medical familiar, but he's already bang on monitoring blood pressure because of my whole mess. I really should have popped upstairs to get him before we headed out, even if he wasn't finished shedding."

"So, what's a mental addiction, then?"

"When it's all in your mind, more like a bad habit that's really ingrained. If you take something that makes you feel good, your brain starts to reset itself to crave that when you feel sad. The same way you might crave a favorite food or want to listen to a certain song when you've had a shit day. In very basic terms, drinking or something like that can be fine in moderation, but it becomes an addiction when you are doing something that disrupts your life just to feel good. That happens because your baseline of happiness or misery has adjusted so that unless you have it in your system, you feel atrocious," Harry said, holding out his hands like balancing a scale. "Alcohol is also chemically addictive, all the worst ones do both, and people wouldn't normally consider it a food or music addiction unless it's really fucking up your life. Even then, it tends to be considered an emotional imbalance or obsession, and professionals would check for something like chronic depression to go after the thing making you want the unhealthy habit. Caffeine is chemically addictive too, though it's not anywhere near as bad, but lots of people simply must have their tea even if they are drinking an herbal blend without a stimulant in it. The ritual of making tea became a habit that they can't get through their day without, even if they have stopped or never started drinking anything caffeinated. Have you heard of operant conditioning?" Severus nodded.

"If you would feel bad if you don't take your potion, then isn't that the same thing because you'd be conditioned to want it?" Severus asked, his head tilted cutely. The haircut framed his face so much better than the mess he'd had when they met. Even better than the neater but harsher cut Harry remembered from the 90's.

"I don't crave it, I don't like how it makes me feel even a little, and frankly I think it's annoying. True, if I don't take it soon, I'll start to feel awful. That can cause a psychological addiction, which is why I've been careful not to miss doses. If not taking it makes me miserable repeatedly, and taking it makes me feel better right away every time, over time I might build up that association even if I don't want to and that could become a problem. In my case, I would very much like my dick to work again, so I've got a very strong counter to that mental spiral," Harry said, blushing a bit. "I've got an appointment coming up on the 29th, and I'm really hoping I can ditch it."

"So, an alcoholic has two addictions?" Harry wasn't supposed to know why Severus was so keen on the topic. He tried to play it cool.

"Well, I don't think any health care professional would say it exactly that way. They might talk about the severity, but people who drink or smoke all day every day are completely addicted, in every way a person can be. It is really hard to drop the habit when it's that bad. It becomes part of the routine, it produces rewarding mental compounds in the brain resulting in operant conditioning, their body adjusts how it operates so if they quit or even just reduce how much they use suddenly they would experience horrific withdrawal sickness, and they require it to get through their day emotionally while also needing to prioritize it over other things they would otherwise want to do," Harry rattled off.

"Then, you really should take your potion on time to make sure you don't become mentally addicted to it," Severus said. "That way you'll be off it for your birthday."

"Exactly, though each time I drop the dose down I go through a little bit of withdrawal, so I'll probably feel ill on my birthday. I do try not to take weekends off, but even if I'm well enough to show up I might have to stay in the office," Harry said with a sigh. He did tend to take a bit of a nap in his office to make it through the longer days. Severus either worked the morning with him or showed up in time for the doors to open, like most of the staff. It was really only Harry and Benny pulling the long hours, but that was the job.

With the original office now part of the magical dining space, he'd hit a small coat closet with an expansion charm to make his own office. He'd thought about just having it upstairs, but he'd been convinced to keep his work and living spaces separate mostly to avoid offending Eekut. Goblins had very strong work ethics, but they also had strict rules about the separation of their duty to The Hoard and their duty to their family. As soon as Harry explained the plan, Eekut had started talking about how much extra cost would be involved since they would have to either put stairs inside so the office could be accessed from the business or carve out an entry area for the flat so he didn't go through the door to his home to get to the to the office and didn't need to have visitors walk through his workspace to get to his home. Stuffing himself into a cupboard came with a certain amount of irony he had to keep bottled up, but he'd been assured by multiple people that having the office upstairs would have been a very bad idea especially if he planned on selling the majority of the business.

"Houseman can keep things running for a day or two," Severus said confidently.

"He's terrible with customer complaints, though. He either gives the place away or pops off shouting," Harry argued.

"Well, most of what you do is handle people, even if you do spend a lot of time cooking that isn't why you are there," Severus said. "You're good at it, you know, knowing what you can say to people and how to keep us all on task. That... that time you sent me out front I thought I'd die."

"Don't be dramatic," Harry soothed, hooking his arm around Severus playfully for a moment. "It went great!"

"I could have vanished myself, they were so mad before I even walked out there, and I was sure they'd just know it was my fault," Severus moaned.

The mayor's wife had brought a party of twelve for the five-course high tea on short notice. Meanwhile, at a table in the Lord's tea room, the soon to be Mrs. Malfoy was being treated to a day out by Andromeda and ordered some of the fancy tarts decorated with candied violets. Narcissa had arrived with a tiara that said "bride to be" and Harry had pulled Adrien, with all his boyish charm, off getting new tables in the front for a bit so he could focus more on the special party of high-maintenance witches. Severus had insisted he deliver the tarts to the table himself, and Harry hadn't realized he and Narcissa Black (almost Malfoy) were ever so close.

Severus' steady hands and careful precision produced the most beautiful sugared flowers, Harry was hardly the only one who cooed over the delicate blossoms. Severus convinced Narcissa to buy an extra dozen of mixed flavors and decorations to take home so she could show them to her family and the wedding planner. He'd even suggested that white rose petals could be made to look like a peacock's tail, if she wanted to have something to symbolize her future home.

Harry had needed to visit the table and talk to them after that, and not saying anything rude to Bellatrix had been a real trial especially with the tattoo showing through her lace sleeves. Getting to meet Andromeda again had made up for it, they'd had a lovely chat where Harry realized she was Andromeda Tonks currently and Nymphadora was already three, and then Adrien had to come soothe Bellatrix since she was loudly bemoaning that her traitorous older sister was getting too much attention on her younger sister's special day. How Narcissa was keeping the peace at that table, Harry couldn't guess. Perhaps Bellatrix just loved her little sister enough to keep her racist ideas to herself for the duration. While Bellatrix was being fussed over, Harry had peered into Andromeda's teacup, with permission of course, and said there was a good chance her daughter would meet a werewolf as an auror and be very happy about it. That left Andromeda very confused, but Narcissa seemed supportive of having an auror for a niece even if 'it's not a very ladylike profession, but she is a metamorphamagus. Just look at Uncle Alphard and his odd hobbies.'

Unfortunately, since Severus had sold them out of nearly all their flowered tarts and they took ages of fiddly work to make, there wasn't enough when the mayor's wife and her friends selected them as the final course of their tea service. Benny tried to stall so they could put fresh flowers on some of the cheaper plain tarts instead, but Harry just knew that wouldn't work. Harry sent Severus out with a cart of petite fours that had been iced but not yet decorated, a paintbrush, and a bunch of colored icing to sketch flowers onto the cakes table-side. The black sisters saw Severus walking terrified with the cart as they were leaving, Harry chattering at him trying to assure him it would be fine, and Andromeda followed them out under the sign warning everyone they were entering the muggle half of the business. Bellatrix refused to follow, but after a few sharp words Narcissa told her to just go home and joined her sister in her exploration, both of them listening to the muggle ladies asking Severus for certain colors or flowers.

Harry checked in making sure the Black sisters had everything they needed after making certain that Bellatrix left without making a mess, and Narcissa seemed flattered that so many people read her tiara and congratulated or at least smiled at her. She also seemed taken aback by the sheer volume of people coming in.

"There's over two million muggles in the city of Birmingham," Harry muttered. Andromeda looked around nervously. "No need to worry, Mrs. Tonks, we have wards so we can speak freely so long as we aren't drawing attention to ourselves. Anyway, I run a successful business in part because I serve out both sides of the place. There are only a hundred thousand or so of our sort in Albion, with perhaps ten thousand in this part of the country, which means there just aren't enough customers to go around unless I want to run someone else out of business. Of course, I'm not upset you bought me out of those tarts, Severus can draw just as well as he can cook or brew, so I'm certain those politician's wives will leave happy. I do love magic, but when it comes to filling up my bank account I'm willing to take most anyone's money."

"You'll be a Slytherin for certain," Andromeda said with a warm smile.

"I've resigned myself to it, even if my family would have preferred a lion were they still with me," Harry said wistfully.

"Oh, have they passed?" Narcissa asked.

"I'm fairly certain I saw your other sister trying her best to murder my siblings during the Death Eater raid that orphaned me for the second time. I'm the only one of my family still alive because as the fastest runner they told me to go get help," Harry recited, shocking both women enough their porcelain skin paled further, and their eyes blew wide. "I figured it wasn't worth the potential consequence to chuck her out, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring her back for tea. The two of you are welcome any time, and I'll gladly take her money if she's ordering to go."

"Your entire family is gone?" Andromeda asked, grabbing hard at Narcissa's arm.

"The entire enclave village: squibs, half-bloods, pure-bloods, half-humans... everyone. I think it was because we were such a mixed community and had a strict policy of telling outsiders to keep their politics to themselves, but I'm not certain. The elders didn’t tend to keep the kids in the loop. He acts as if he's the only one in Albion who can talk to snakes, so he gets to run the place. Hermes, come say hello, but be sneaky about it," Harry switched to parseltongue briefly. Hermes slid up out of his collar to twist though his hair and then down the other side of his head while Harry spoke. "Obviously, I have my own opinions about how killing a bunch of magical people will or won't result in a stronger community that overpowers the muggle one enough to safely drop the Statute of Secrecy, but I'm just some random seer running a bakery."

"You said two million muggles?" Narcissa asked.

"In this one city, yes," Harry confirmed. "At this front counter, we serve about a hundred people an hour from eleven to two on weekdays. That's the equivalent of a tenth of every witch and wizard living in London coming in for lunch, and never mind the morning rush of people right when we open getting their breads and basics. I trust you see the problem with certain people's politics that I'm trying to highlight?"

"We won't bring Bella back," Andromeda said. "Thank you, for the wonderful tea and the... free service, as a seer."

"I'm sure there are plenty of people predicting a more favorable outcome for his aims, but the thing about seers is that we're people. We can lie, and we can be biased, and we can be wrong, but I am glad you came out front to see some things with your own eyes. I am sorry for bringing you down on a special day out. If I can make a suggestion if you aren't sure what to do with yourselves for the next quarter hour that might make up for it?" Harry asked.

"Please do," Narcissa said, looking quite stressed.

"It's a lovely day outside for a walk," Harry said, gesturing to the muggle entrance. "Just once around the block to clear your head, and you'll feel much better. If you please and have more than a few minutes, we aren't so far from the museum and art gallery on Queensway. Just follow Livery or Newhall Street southwest, cross the main road with care paying attention to the colored lights, and turn right. You can't miss it." He pressed a few muggle coins into Narcissa's hand, the entrance fee wasn't much. "Even if you hate it all, it's better to know than guess." The sisters left out the front, and Harry turned in time to see Severus being handed a five-pound note for his performance. The dark-eyed boy scuttled off back to the kitchen, where he was far more comfortable. Harry made a circuit around the dining room, his bright red uniform and chef's pill-box hat making him more eye-catching than the front staff's more muted uniforms. Benny had a red uniform as well, as head chef, and he planned to put the new manager in red if it all went to plan. The front counter had a steady but sedate stream of customers this close to close on a weekend, and everyone looked happy, so he went back to prepping ingredients.

"Customers are awful," Severus insisted, breaking Harry out of his memories and bringing him back to the leisurely stroll back to the flat above the bakery.

"I have an inquiry about making a hundred and fifty apple tarts with white rose petal and icing peacocks on them next spring," Harry said.

"Really?" Severus asked, his eyebrows flying up.

"The caterer doesn't think they can do that kind of volume without elves, and Narcissa is insisting that the elf ones don't taste right." Harry bumped Severus’ shoulder with his own, smiling bright. "You deserve to be proud of your work. Not that I'm sure we can fill the order, with how close to spring exams it is. We might need to train someone up to your standard before the end of summer."

"I'd still have a job next summer?" Severus asked.

"No reason you wouldn't, there's plenty of work to go around. Unless you find something better, which would be fine. Of course, you said there isn't a convenient floo where you live, so if you still wanted to use my flat, we can work that out, I'm sure," Harry said, his nerves buzzing. "You'd be seventeen by then, so there is always apparition, but it's an option."

"Provided you still live there after it's sold," Severus said, tilting his head down to obscure his face with his hair.

"I've decided not to sell the majority of it. Do you know Mr. McKinnon? He's been in quite a few times watching how things work; sandy hair, a bit more muscular than average, walking amalgamation of the nicer Scottish stereotypes, can't talk to anyone without mentioning his daughters."

"I've seen him. He was hanging over my station while I was dipping the pansies with his mouth open, so I told him to back off and stop breathing moist air on them before they all turned white. Seemed alright, just really curious," Severus said with a shrug.

"He can't afford more than ten percent right now, but I'm thinking he'll be a great manager and could take over my part of the work with a gentleman’s agreement that he’d be the first to know if I’m selling more of the business later on. We've scheduled to work semi-overlapping shifts next week, and he'll be in when I'm technically out on the 30th and 31st." Harry watched Severus carefully. "If it's a good fit, and I don't expect it to be perfect and I'm going to promote Laura to assistant manager for the front of house so nobody has to work the insane hours I've had to put in this past month and a half, but if it's a good fit I'll sell to him and he'll be a permanent part of the staff. I'll have more free time in August, be able to get my school shopping done and maybe even some revision or a trip to the cinema before school starts. The Tenant looks interesting, but I saw an advert for Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That came out last year and I missed it, but it's coming back to the local cinema for a two week run."

"What's that supposed to be about, a big snake and some Christian myths?" Severus scoffed.

"It's a comedy about King Arthur, actually," Harry said, feeling a little disappointed. "I never got to go the cinema much, but I've heard..." Harry pulled up short at the look Severus was giving him.

"King Arthur?" Severus asked, clearly excited.

"Yeah. Monty Python is a comedy group, they have a show on the telly that's popular, or so I hear. I haven’t lived anywhere with a telly since I left my Aunt’s place at eleven. The movie is supposedly about King Arthur on a quest, and the more you know about the myths, the funnier it is."

"I know everything about King Arthur," Severus said with such confidence and certainty that Harry had no choice but to believe him. Nevertheless, for the rest of the walk home and getting settled in for the evening Harry was treated to a monologue that reminded him of how Hermione would dump a bunch of facts about some random topic she'd recently read up on. Snape really did know all sorts of things about King Arthur, Merlin, and the knights of the round table. His mother apparently had a set of books that he'd re-read enough to have memorized them, or at least that's how it seemed to Harry. Eventually he cut into the somewhat disjointed tumble of interesting things.

"I'd always been curious, but never had the time to read much fiction," Harry said, and Snape spun away from where he was making some chamomile tea to sputter indignantly for a moment.

"It's not fiction, it's mythology! There are numerous historical kings and great feats by knights that could have been the original inspiration for various tales that lived in the 4th to 6th centuries, and then there is the Merlin who lived in the 10th century who was likely a time traveler, and it is a folk hero story of great importance to our culture," Severus finally shouted at Harry. A barrage of facts and figures followed which Harry listened to dutifully, as this was clearly something Severus was deeply passionate about even if the old tales had previously been something Harry was only vaguely aware of.

"My Aunt and Uncle, the ones who weren't so nice I got rescued from? They disallowed any talk of fantasy, fairy stories, all of that," Harry explained when Severus finally took a breath. "So, when I say I haven't had the chance for fiction, I mean all the stuff of day-dreams and leisure. Fifteen-year-olds from normal family backgrounds don't pass the junior mediwizard exam at all, let alone getting a perfect score on their first try. I'm not trying to compare it to anything, I'm just saying my life never had much in it that was frivolous outside of Quidditch. Boys are allowed sport, after all." Severus peered at him for a while, as if trying to make a very important decision. Harry waved his wand, wordlessly finishing fixing their tea so he could wash down the flavor of his prescription. Severus came over to sit at the table.

"The once and future King was named Arthur, and he was advised by a wizard who far surpassed all others named Merlin..." Severus began, and what followed was a lovely bit of storytelling. There were no funny voices or sound effects, but there was a passion for the story that came through in vibrant descriptions told in a voice that - while it hadn't deepened to what it would eventually become - was a gentle monotone somewhere a bit shy of the cultured RP accent Severus used most of the time – notably not when he was swearing a blue streak.

In a home without a telly or a radio, there were still many ways of keeping oneself entertained. Handicrafts, like Mrs. Weasley's knitting, but also storytelling, playing instruments, song, and reading. Alone in the early part of the summer, Harry had mostly read the paper and then fallen into bed exhausted. He'd tried his flute, a cheap gift from one of his minders who remembered the least significant detail of him trying to tell the story of his first year at Hogwarts, but without an audience there wasn't much motivation to improve. With Severus around three of four evenings out of the week, it was much nicer. Harry tried to play along to Severus' singing something he'd heard around Cokeworth, both of them out of tune but enjoying themselves anyway, or else they would talk. Sometimes Severus was in a dark mood and would retreat early up into his bed, other times they'd stay up too late and nod off on the couch. Harry felt his eyes drooping as Severus recited one of the origin stories for Arthur - Harry knew enough to know there were multiple versions of all the old tales - and finally had to cut Severus short. He reached over to catch Severus' wand hand in both of his.

"You can tell me more tomorrow, for now I've got to drag myself through a shower and into bed," Harry said gently. "I really want to hear it all, even if it takes the rest of the summer."

"We'll go to the cinema to see that movie, too," Severus said decisively.

"The advert is on the side table there, with my mail. The bright yellow paper. Stick it up somewhere obvious, will you?" Harry asked, levering himself up.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he saw the flier had been attached to the cold cupboard and surrounded by multicolored flower petals, which ensured it was highly visible from every part of the first floor of the flat. The confetti petals were so adorable Severus caught him stroking them, but actions taken at fuck me o'clock in the morning couldn't be held against anyone. Harry was reasonably certain he'd opened the cupboard to hide his blush before Severus' sleepy brain caught up with what he saw.

Chapter Text

Tobias Snape had a splitting headache. His back ached, but that was almost always true since he'd gotten a herniated disk while working at the mill. Things had been different back then, when he was an able-bodied, respectable, and hard-working. Now he was a despicable man, and he knew it. They couldn't afford anything fancy, and Eileen was sure she couldn't help - that she couldn't take him to one of her kind's healers and she'd only make it worse if she tried. She flat refused to try; he thinks that was the first time he'd struck her. He'd always had a temper on him, but he'd lost any chance of controlling it. Nothing stopped the pain, but drinking numbed it, and that much to drink cost a fair amount. He was a failure and a burden and there was nothing to do about it but accept that life wasn't fair and keep on.

He found he couldn't clearly recall much of the last ten years.

He looked around his home now like a man woken from a long dream. He could recall the general shape of how it had all gone, but exactly how that dent that fit his fist got in the plaster, or why that chair was wobbly, or when the place had become so dingy was hard to say. In his hands he held a worn out old book much the way a sinner would clutch at a bible while at prayer, but this one had Dickens written on the side and a faded wreath on the cover. He'd gotten it out of Severus' room, an old secondhand novel he'd picked up to read him to sleep when he was small and Tobias could give his boy rides around up on his shoulders. Severus had a lot of books, and he vaguely remembered he'd gotten the four-foot-high shelf out of a rental house a bock away - stolen, but then more than half the houses were empty these days with the cutbacks at the mill and new housing being built on the other side of town closer to the train station. The book had dust on it, when most of the books were noticeably better kept, and there were a few pages missing now in where the ghost of Christmas present visits Scrooge.

Tobias had the same dream, at least three times a week for months and months now. His son, grown and dressed for a funeral, though in that wizard kind of style. A great green snake, like the badges on his school uniform made enormous, ripping his throat out. There was so much blood, always so much, with a gasping plea that made no sense and silver tears. The room was shabby past the point of habitable. The snake disappeared the way things in dreams tended to when they were no longer relevant, but his boy, that man's body slumped onto the floor in agony, remained until a ghostly hand closed the eyes. Then came a chill that terrified Tobias down to his bones.

The doctor said recurring nightmares weren't something physical, and sent him to church instead of giving him any real help. He'd been warned he wouldn't be able to take sleeping pills unless he got sober or he might as well dig a grave and lay in it, anyway. Eventually, he'd dragged his sorry carcass to church and went into the confession box to give a vague outline of the dream and confess his sins. The priest asked him if he had a reason to feel guilt or anxiety about his son in particular.

Did Tobias Snape have a reason to feel guilt? What a useless question. He was on the dole as an invalid, wasn't he? It had been a decade since he'd paid for anything with money he'd earned.

He stood in an empty house, Eileen at her job at the grocer and Severus... gone, as the boy tended to be these days. He saw Greg Evans and his family at church and the man asked how Severus' job at the bakery was going. Tobias was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He'd known Severus had made those pot pies. Eileen hadn't made something like that in years, and they had the date and STS on the side of plain wax paper instead of any branding. He'd mentioned Severus bringing the pies home and the Evans family filled in the rest for him. A bakery in Burmingham. Three days a week, and staying in a bunk-room in the flat upstairs to save on train fare, and something about a girl in trouble Severus had stood up for at school. Eileen said she gave permission, but hadn't been clear on any details. Useless woman, hardly looked at anything that wasn't a crossword puzzle these days. Sometimes he thought she was waiting for Severus to graduate and then he'd wake up the next morning to find all her things gone from the house. He'd deserve it, but that didn't mean he would be happy about it.

The nightmare came every night now, and more vivid than ever. The worst part of it was the voice at the end. The cold, misty presence that he could never turn fast enough to see. It only ever said a number. He didn't remember what it started with, but that was months ago. It had been a few weeks before he realized it was counting down the days.

The night after seeing the doctor, it said thirty-three. By the time he went to church it said nine. He talked to Eileen about Severus and that night it said eight. Wednesday night he passed out drunk and it said six. Thursday he talked to Severus briefly before he left for Burmingham, and the voice said five. Friday he went into Severus' room and looked for anything dangerous, but nothing seemed out of place and that was night four. He paced around his empty house Saturday morning with a book about a man haunted by spirits until he changed his ways clutched in both hands. What was he supposed to do? Why was God, or maybe one of Eileen's gods, making him suffer through that horror every night? What would happen when the countdown ended? What was he meant to do?

He'd seen Severus, looked at him just the way the dream asked, and he seemed fine. He had a summer job, which was good for a sixteen-year-old. All Eileen had said was that in his letter home earlier in the year he wasn't meant to start until August after those fancy exam scores came through, and that was normal for their sort, not that Tobias would have allowed Severus a full month of sloth when Tobias had started his first job at fifteen. Severus must have talked his way into some dogsbody work so he could start before his qualifications came in. That was the sort of hard work Tobias liked to see. He'd been working all July, and for all Severus was an effeminate sort with his narrow shoulders and all the rest of it, a job in a professional kitchen was respectable work.

He was a bit more sober than usually, had been since the doctor's visit last month, not for his health but out of pure paranoia. He didn't want to be slow or sleeping if some other sign turned up, and once he was down in single digits he was filled with the need to prepare, though he didn't know for what or how. He eventually put down the battered storybook and took the late Saturday morning train to Burmingham. He found the bakery easy enough, it was just as Evans described and the people in the corner store raved about the place when he got a pack of smokes. It seemed a nice place with a counter for the normal people and a posh dining area for the sort who had servants to carry their bread home. He didn't want to make a scene, but he cased the place as best he could.

The owner caught him at it, claiming he'd recognized him due to family resemblance. Bullshit, Severus was like a new boy with that more flattering haircut, clearer skin, and he'd even filled out some. Likely nicking sweets at work, though maybe the pies that didn't sell got fed to the bunkhouse boys. He was still twiggy while Tobias was broad-shouldered, and with his mother's coloring while Tobias had shaggy mid-brown hair and even lighter brown eyes. This baby-faced weirdo with long curly hair and fancy red cook's uniform must have known who he was, not that he could imagine Severus showing around a photo of his old man.

They talked in the alleyway behind the bakery. Tobias knew Severus had trouble at school but he had no idea... and those degenerates were going after defenseless girls too. Posh assholes, obviously they had no respect for anyone born without a silver spoon. Peverell's cousin saying the school hadn't been properly reporting it, possibly because the headmaster was also the leader of their House of Lords. By baby Jesus' dirty diapers, that was some high-quality shit they were pouring downhill onto the common folk for the sake of greasing the wheels of politics.

"Most wizards have a special talent or two. Severus is incredibly precise, I think he's more accurate pouring from a bottle than most people are when using measuring spoons, and inventive among other talents. I'm more of a gut feeling guy, I listen to what magic tells me, rarely look before I leap, and do what feels right. That does take leadership, intuition, and a bit of proper fortune telling, but really I don't think it takes much talent to know what is hunting you, just the right kind of eyes," Peverell said, those unnaturally green orbs scanning him as if cataloging every mistake he'd ever made in his life. "Though, maybe it's just because my family has such a strong connection to death."

"Wat'cha mean by that?" Tobias asked, ever-abrasive fool that he was. His Ma had taught him better than to antagonize the fey - and this ageless person had all but admitted what he was already. What he said next only cemented the impression.

"Old magic, the kind that got my kind burnt because sometimes knowing sucks worse than being surprised. Mrs. Evans has it too, but she's harder to look at. I mean it hurts me, in my heart, seeing a good person walking in death's shadow. Strange that I don't feel much pain now, but then you don't even look insulted I said so. Shadows are clinging to you, Mr. Snape, and you know it, but you're here checking on Severus, making sure he's alright. That's something. Monday morning the O.W.L. exam scores will come out. It was supposed to be Tuesday, if nothing changed. That is right, isn't it? Tuesday. Do you think something has changed, or is it still only four sunsets until you die?"

"Did you do something to me? Those nightmares torturing me every night," Tobias raged, spewing out his frustrations in a litany of all his woes he hadn't regulated well enough to properly remember after he'd said them. On the train home, he'd wonder if the boy's magic had loosened his tongue. The boy held firm against the onslaught of mixed rambling and threats, flicking the little pin he wore under his chin. Tobias felt that presence, silent cold mist breathing across the back of his neck the same as it did in the dreams, and finally shut his big mouth.

"Hermes is the messenger god, and my certification is in emergency medicine and breaking curses, not casting them. Perhaps there is a spark of magic in you after all, if you can see it coming so clearly. I can tell you that you are supposed to die next Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of July, just after sundown. Short of the usual methods, I can't make that happen. I don't want to, either, Severus has been through more than enough recently. It doesn't have to be what happens, even the best seers can only say what is most likely and give warnings to people who won't listen. Most men are haunted by their past, but you've spent enough time dwelling on that. It's the future you have to worry about, Mr. Snape. I'd get thinking about that, if I was you." With that, the young man turned and went back into his business, leaving Tobias shaken and unsure in a dark alley.

There were several ways a man like him could die. He wasn't sure why he was seeing his boy dying as a grown man - but still far too young. His hair was perfectly black, not a single graying strand. His face was severe with worry lines on his forehead and his hair downright unkempt, but he was only just grown. There were no crow's feet, no age lines around the mouth. He looked younger than Tobias was now. Perhaps it wasn't literal? If Tobias died, Severus would be consumed, or destroyed, or whatever. He'd never been much good with words and poetry. He danced and sang his way into Eileen's heart.

He had one evening and three full days to put his affairs in order, and he may be a lot of things he'd never planned to become, but he'd always been a responsible man when it came to his paperwork. He found all his family documents and made sure they were in order as soon as he got home. He'd only have Monday to go to the city offices and make sure he was up to date with everything about the dole payments. Maybe, if he wasn't found right off or if his death wasn't reported right away, then Eileen could still get the August payment. He had always done the paperwork on time even if he hated it, and some of it was damn insulting, but his family was entitled to the money since he'd been permanently injured at work and it was the only thing he could still do that was in any way productive. Nobody was going to hire him when he couldn't handle any manual work. He was clever, but that only went so far for a man who'd left school to start digging ditches when they built the motorway then moved on to a factory job he'd expected to keep for 30 years or more, and the economy had been shit for people on his rung of the ladder and getting worse. At least the current PM, the Labor party's Wilson, wasn't completely useless. Eileen would have had a lot more trouble doing all she did without the reforms for women's equality that had gotten passed. The Tories were gaining more backing, though, and some fancy bint named Thatcher had just taken leadership of the conservative party.

He hated Eileen's magic. He probably shouldn't, but he did. Hated how she could just fix broken cups and little things like new in a moment, but couldn't do anything about his back or the roof. Hated that she swore by strange gods and had odd ways of doing certain things that put off the neighbors so much they stopped talking to them, and then it got round at his job and he had to hear his coworkers saying shit about his runaway blue-blood wife. Hated that Severus, instead of making fireworks or changing the color of his toys like Eileen said he would, would make the illustrations in his picture books move or change his bedding into flower petals. She'd stared into the child's eyes, the way she would at him that made his knees weak, and said the petal thing was because the wool blanket scratched his delicate skin too much. He liked pink and lavender petals instead of a proper red winter blanket when he was a month old. He'd danced about on tip-toe instead of walking properly when he was toddling, and made flowers bloom out of season whenever he escaped their property and ran out into the allotment.

Tobias had started putting him in girl's clothes just to stop strangers coming up to them wondering why he let his boy walk around with flowers in his hair. As if he hadn't tried explaining to the three-year-old about how boys should act with all the effectiveness and positive result of pissing on a grease fire. Severus had screwed up his face in concentration, grown his own hair out four inches while Tobias watched, made his one daisy into a slightly uncanny bundle of them, and then declared himself a girl. At the time Tobias had a good job, and a few respectable friends left, and had decided that picking his battles was the better option. What kind of self-important busybody cared what a three year old did? The better solution was simply to take the boy around to see other things that might interest him, and he'd gotten the boy into some less girly things with a carrot more easily than with a stick. The Christmas before Tobias' injury he gave Severus the biggest art kit he could afford - all sorts of pastels and watercolors and such. Even after he was ruined he hadn't given up on his boy. Chess might be a bit pretentious, but he got a little travel set that didn't move or talk that the boy could take around with him. The flowers never completely went away, but they weren't out of control anymore once they boy was busy with other things.

It was really only a matter of time before Severus turned up queer, no matter that he'd been hanging around the Evans girls for years. Tobias had been through all the disappointment and acceptance about that back when he was still able-bodied and sober, so even now he was just glad they changed the laws in '67 so his boy wouldn't get sent to prison over it whenever he was found out. Provided he could keep it to himself until he turned twenty-one, and since he didn't leave trails of flower petals all over the house anymore, he figured the boy had that all contained enough to pass as normal.

He didn't drink after meeting Peverell. Not a drop; he didn't dare. He thought being sober might help, that he could get more done. It was the hardest fucking thing he'd ever done in his life to put all the bottles in the chest in the attic and lock it, then drop the key down the crack in the floor where Eileen hid her wand. She'd be the only one who could get it back now. Short of taking a hatchet to the floor, which would almost certainly throw his back out bad enough he couldn't stand. He thought he'd have a bit of a rough time of it. It had been bad enough when he started limiting his drinking this last month. He drank so he didn't have to think about how much pain he was in or how much of a failure he was to have his wife working when he wasn't. It turned out to be just one more terrible decision. He heaved up even plain water, shook like he was being electrocuted, and wondered if you could die from stopping drinking the same way as from having too much.

Eileen tried to help him, when she found him late Sunday morning sprawled on the kitchen floor with a water pitcher and the mop bucket to spew in. She didn't believe him when he said it was just water. Before the accident at the mill, he'd had a better handle on his temper. He'd been able to keep things to himself when it really counted before it blew out his mouth or got his hands swinging. He'd gotten this girl pregnant, and he had to man up to the consequences, and he had done right by her in the beginning. Her magic giving him the heebie jeebies was his problem, and she said she was just born that way and the pact with the devil stuff was nonsense. He only sort-of believed it in the beginning, especially after she'd cast a spell on him for the first and last time, and he still wondered what these people were that made them that way even after all this time. After the constant pain and frustration from not being able to provide for his family steeped him in depression and uselessness, his anger had no fuse. He'd go off like a loaded gun no matter what.

So of course, on the last Sunday of July in '76 when he was sick as a dog because he'd gone through with the fool idea of giving up drinking, he shouted at Eileen for trying to feed him as a way to cure his 'hangover.' They had a row, right there in the kitchen while he lay in his own sick and filth. He would have hit her if he could, but he was on the floor and she was dressed for work already. He did try not to fight with her just before a shift, but he was dying on Tuesday and couldn't fucking believe he was having a harder time standing up on a sober Sunday morning than when he was sloshed on a Friday night.

"Use your fucking wand and check if you don't believe me!" flew out of him the same as every other vile thing, unfiltered and harsh. "I'm not drunk. It's fucking water you dried up old bitch. Go on, I'm just a useless sack of meat on the floor, taking up space and too sick even to get up and piss so go on with it you shitting cunt. I can't stop you. I can't do fucking anything."

Eileen left, coming back with her wand looking determined. She said something while he was still mouthing off and suddenly he couldn't move except to breathe. There was a harsh sensation over his whole body, and some of the stink from the filth he'd been wallowing in on the tile went away. Another few words and he was shifting into a better position for her to get at him, floating a bit off the tile and being manhandled by a load of sparks. Holy fuck he'd known she could do this theoretically, but she never had, and his fears of what it would be like had nothing at all on the reality of having his wife magically force him into compliance. Then, she knelt down and looked at him with those dark eyes. They were like tunnels, and he used to love falling down them. He knew now it was some sort of magic, that it only felt good because he'd trusted her and wanted to fall into her eyes. Now he was pulled into them, yanked along if he wanted to be or not, just as harsh and violent as he ever was with her. He was helpless and she could do anything to him and he was confused and dizzy and sick and he'd like it if she put one of those delicate little feet on his chest just now so there would be something physical holding him to the floor instead of the weightless disorienting nothing of the spells.

"I don't know who has confounded you, and I don't care if it's made you sober and randy. I'll not have some busybody trying to fix my husband for me and then coming to collect," Eileen said, shifting into a better position. She tore into him again, flinching at the recurring nightmare and moving on to lance through everything he'd done in the last few months with the same ruthlessness that had him marching to the alter. She was hunting for something, and went back to look through his meeting with Peverell a second time. She released him from whatever she'd done, standing up to loom over him as he lay there dazed. Despite feeling so awful, he found himself peeking up her skirt at her legs. It had been a while, and damn if she hadn't kept the best parts of her figure. "Peverell, no, no it can't be, that's a fairy story. The main branch of the family ended ages ago."

"Evans said he came from an enclave, whatever that is, and his wife said it was like one of the neighbors coming back from under hill. Their girl says he's possessive of Severus, and Evans shushed her but she said they became the best of friends inside a day and it was weird how Severus latched onto Peverell and changed his mind about some other thing all at once," Tobias said even though she'd seen when he met them at church, because he preferred talking about things instead of having it all pulled through the front of his skull without comment.

"So you are dying, then?" Eileen asked. He looked up at her, with her wand out and her arms crossed, standing over him while he was helpless, and felt like he was having an epiphany he should have had fifteen years ago. Christ on a bike, what was wrong with him? She must have noticed his expression was a bit out of sync with the topic of conversation, and those glittering tunnels sucked him up again while he was answering.

"I was sort of hoping you'd tell me I'd been hoodwinked into making myself ill," Tobias admitted. "Or that there was a spell doing this to me you could just end." What her overpowering him was doing to him was silently examined, and she cocked her head at him the way she did for the more complicated crossword puzzles. The floating was actually quite comfortable for his back, which was rare enough he couldn't help but marvel at it, though at the same time she'd said nothing she could do would help and here was a spell at helped.

"I'll get the key and give you a sip - just a sip, and mixed special - because you will drop dead here today if you cut off your drinking all at once like this," Eileen said, and went to leave. At the last moment she turned back around and changed the restraints so he wasn't floating anymore and only his lower body was restricted, that same weightless restraint that terrified him so much it looped back around to become something entirely different.

Of course, that was when Severus came home. The boy stood in the frame of the kitchen door, looking at Tobias in his still slightly-soiled clothes sitting on the floor, propped up by the cabinets.

"Don't you have work today?" Tobias asked him. "You paint those fancy cakes the posh ladies pay a fortune to have with Sunday tea, I heard."

"I worked the morning," Severus said cautiously. The boy didn't meet his eyes, but he seemed to be able to tell something was off about Tobias' legs. "Harry sent me home before we opened because the exam results come out tomorrow."

"You're too nervous to work," Tobias guessed.

"No," Severus said, but he knew the boy well enough. Knew the shape of the shoulders and shifting weight that meant it was at least half-right.

"I'm sick, and sober, and even more of the first one because of the second. Your Ma's upstairs making me something for it," Tobias found it easier to keep his tone even, with whatever the fuck was going cross-ways in his head over Eileen using her magic on him still processing. Like someone dropping a coin in the mechanism at the mill, it slowed things down and fucked shit up, but eventually the copper would fall out the bottom and the gears would turn at normal speeds again. He hoped.

"Upstairs?" Severus asked, and Tobias knew what he was really asking.

"Probably borrowed your cauldron or whatever else. It's... serious."

"Oh." He'd never seen the boy's face so blank. He shut the door, but he hardly came into the room.

"Step around me if you need to do... whatever. Your mother cleaned me up a bit but I'm not going anywhere in a hurry," Tobias said. "Not sure she didn't do something to my mood, either, when she was getting me out of the middle of the floor." That part was probably more to do with the shape of her legs than the patterns she traced with her wand, but the boy didn't need to know that. "The pies you made were good. Baking is honest work. Most teenagers get stuck washing dishes and sweeping floors. Can I assume you are getting paid fair for what you are doing?"

"I am, and one time I took a cart out to serve my best work. Ended up selling the lot, and that led to a five-pound tip from the mayor's wife. Or it might have been one of her guests."

"Yeah?" Tobias asked, impressed despite himself. "How'd you get one of those rich fucks to part with that?"

"She'd wanted tarts with candied edible flowers on, which I made but then I showed them off and sold almost all of them to a high-class bride to be not realizing we needed them for the party in the other room. There weren't enough of the tarts left for everybody and they made me fix my mess. I went out and said I'd paint their favorite flowers on petite fours if they could wait a little. One of the other ladies said we probably had stencils in the back and another said I shouldn't take credit when I'm just a dirty busboy. I got insulted, but I can't just snap at the customers, so I stomped into the back and loaded up a bunch of the blank cakes that were chilled waiting to be decorated and all my supplies on a cart and did it right at the table," Severus said, still hovering nervously just inside the door. "Almost lost my nerve right at the end, but Harry said it would be fine."

"Showed them up," Tobias said with a nod. "That'll cover a lot of your school supplies, won't it?"

"Yes, sir, I should be able to get what I need for myself this year, I think." Severus started to move as if he was going to leave the kitchen. "Is it just a fever?" he asked, almost like an afterthought.

"Been told by your boss I'll be dead by sundown, Tuesday." The boy froze, hand on the door to the front room. "Been getting my affairs in order the last few days. I don't know if Eileen is cross at me for not telling her sooner, or if it's just she might miss her shift at Tescos. She locked my legs up so I can't act a fool about what's wrong with me. Fair enough, one of my plans was getting lost deep enough in the woods so I'd be sure not to get reported dead before the August dole checks get written. She really didn't seem to like that one. Go ask her if she needs you to run down to the pay phone and call them, will you? No sense in her getting written up at work over it."

The boy moved so fast he might as well have vanished. Not soon after, Tobias heard him moving quick and quiet back down the stairs and out the front. Eileen came down, studied him like she was waiting for him to do a trick, and then forced the most vile thing he'd ever tasted down his throat. The rest of the day was hazy. Severus came home with Mrs. Evans, who had a dish of something with her, and they said a bunch of things while Tobias blinked up from where he'd been bundled on the couch. He thinks he must have said something lacking all tact about how she was dying too, but he was too delirious to be certain.

The next day, Peverell showed up and spent a while talking gently to Severus just inside the door. He was in soft-looking tan robes, like some kind of monk, but he still had that bright pin on with the snakes twisting around. Severus looked at the taller, more confident boy like he'd hung the moon and the sun in the sky, and Tobias was fairly certain that if they had even a hint of privacy they'd start kissing.

"I'd like if you went ahead and told me to my face instead of pretending I don't have eyes," Tobias said, slightly more lucid than he'd been since Eileen fed him whatever that chunky swill was. When they looked at him with innocent confusion he nearly believed, he went on. "I've known you were queer since you were toddling, boy. It's as obvious as your nose; give me some respect and introduce me properly."

"How?" Severus asked, clearly bewildered, so Tobias told them all about the flowers and petal showers, to Severus' mounting embarrassment and horror, and then Severus making himself look even more like a girl so rude people wouldn't come up to hassle them until Tobias got him to act more like a normal boy. Severus reached up to tug at his hair, clearly having forgotten why he'd had it grown out long in the first place. Peverell looked at Severus like he was his favorite pudding, which Tobias decided to treat exactly how he would if Tobias had started with a daughter.

"Not that you were ever fussy about mud or dirt the way a girl would be, and then you went through a phase that was all about bugs and every other kind of plants, so you were still a boy after all, just a sensitive Nancy. All that darker magic stuff, too, with those creepy books full of dissected things and whatever, so I suppose I'm not so disappointed you're bent because I'm relieved you never asked to be called Sarah or Susan or something drastic along those lines. Seemed a fair chance you'd haul off and start dressing in drag all the time, or do something even more unnatural about it. And also, I'm not daft. Not a single picture of a girl in your room. Not even the bra and knicker adverts torn out of a catalog, and most of those will show you half a tit and all the legs for free. Half my bedroom wall was pinups when I was your age," Tobias finished off.

"Oh, well, I am, and he is, but we aren't," Severus said slowly, looking up at the taller boy out of the corner of his eye.

"Severus called me because I'm the wizard version of a trained medic, and unlikely to charge anything," Peverell said. "More to the point, do I have permission to check your vitals?"

"Eileen!" Tobias shouted. Severus went and opened the door to the stairs.

"Ma, I got a mediwizard here," Severus called up. Eileen came down in a hurry.

"We can't afford... what in Merlin's name?" Eileen asked, coming to a sudden stop when she saw the boys.

"It's Severus' boyfriend," Tobias said.

"Not yet. Our first date isn't until next week," Severus said through clenched teeth and a bright blush, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"Date?" the green-eyed boy said, freezing in place halfway to the couch. Tobias had never seen someone go from confident and sure of their own personal power to so completely poleaxed so quickly. Severus looked away, but Tobias caught the glitter in his eye as the boy tried not to cry.

"The cinema? With the King Arthur Movie by Monty Python and all," Severus said timidly.

"Oh," Peverell said. "I thought... yes, er, yes! Of course you meant... as a date. Yes." Tobias looked between the two, feeling slow. Had that innocent surprise been genuine after all? They were practically swooning over each other for God's sake!

"Aren't you both boys?" Eileen asked.

"Oh, come off it, Eileen. Don't you dare say you're shocked," Tobias said, levering himself up into a sitting position. It hurt like blazes to twist his back, and he bit his cheek to keep from gasping. He vaguely remembered Eileen floating him out back to use the bog, but hadn't moved off the couch on his own power since he'd been put there so he was stiff as a board. She stepped up to Peverell, and Tobias may not have magic but he knew well enough what she was trying to do by glaring into the boy's eyes. Peverell's face went stony, and then Eileen reared back as if struck.

"Legilimancy on an unwilling minor is punishable by six months in prison," Peverell said, his voice flat. It might just be Tobias' head spinning, but the shadows seemed to stretch and a haze crept into the room like when the smoke from the mill blew down over the town. "You really don't want to try that a second time."

"Tobias was fine, then you told my husband he's dying, and now he is after all," Eileen insisted.

"This is why most seers tell people to shove off instead of answering questions," Peverell huffed. "Am I here for a reason, or not? I work about sixty hours a week and would fancy a bit of rest if I'm not welcome."

"Eileen said there's nothing that can be done to really fix anything, but that goes ten years back and it occurs to me she never got any fancy training like what you've mentioned," Tobias spoke over whatever Eileen was going to say. He fixed his wife with a glare. "And I called you down to make sure he understands me, not for you to chase him off. Remember how it was when we were first married and you couldn't understand half of anything? Severus is too besotted to be trusted with it."

"Da!" Severus moaned, clearly mortified.

"I'm a half-blood wizard, sir, I can correctly pronounce electricity and I'm planning to get a motorcycle license when I turn seventeen," Peverell said. "Most magical travel methods are awful, honestly. There's good reason Severus takes the train instead of the magical Knight Bus service."

"Eileen blinked me somewhere once, first spell she ever cast on me as far as I know, and it felt like I was being crushed and sucked through a tube. I spent a day hitchhiking back and made her promise to never cast a spell on me again," Tobias admitted.

"Until yesterday, when he asked me to use my wand on him," Eileen added. "He's completely off, utterly confounded. Nearly killed himself, trying to quit drinking all at once and in one day."

"Harry knows all about that sort of thing, he was telling me about addictions, prescription potions and... and cigarettes and stuff," Severus said.

"And why would he need to be telling you that?" Eileen asked, eyes sharp. This whole business seemed to have put some life back into her, though he'd known Severus was nicking cigarettes for a while. He'd tanned the boy's hide for it once or twice, and figured that was enough punishment without talking to Eileen since he'd stopped stealing them at least. Peverell must be the sort who hated the taste, if he was bullying Severus into quitting.

"I was on one with nasty side effects that I have to wean myself off. Still am, for a few more days. The side effects are, uh, rather inconvenient instead of harmful, but I only have to deal with them at night and if I cut off cold I ran the risk of damaging my heart. Severus was asking because I was late taking it and worried." Peverell seemed keen to cover for Severus, which told Tobias who won that dispute. If he was getting into medicine it made sense the boy would be all about clean living. Severus could do worse. Medical training was expensive, and he couldn't imagine that was any different for their sort, so the family business he'd taken over and Severus seemed to enjoy working at would cover the tuition and then they'd be set. His boy in the role of a housewife ruffled his feathers some, but then Severus had said something last year about some of his costs being covered thanks to his high marks, so maybe he had plans for more than baking.

"What's the risks for cutting off an alcohol addiction?" Severus asked. "You weren't specific about that, before."

"Hallucinations, anxiety, and tremors for the higher end of the spectrum. For milder addictions, high blood pressure, rapid heart rate, headache, nausea or vomiting...."

"I've got all that," Tobias said. "Far as I can tell, anyway. What are you going to check me for?"

"Has there been a seizure or impaired consciousness? In the most extreme cases, alcohol withdrawal can cause Delirium Tremens, which I had a feeling I should read up on. It's rare, but can be life threatening."

"Wha's that when it's at home?" Tobias asked.

"Have you been fully aware when awake, or have you been delirious or confused? Not in your right mind, even mildly, or a blackout while you were sober?"

"Oh, well, like Eileen said," Tobias spat out, not liking having to admit to it. "I'm not right."

"Uncontrollable shaking, especially violently... do you know what a seizure looks like ma'am?" Peverell turned to Eileen, who was picking nervously at her nails. She shook her head. "Rhythmic flailing, loss of bladder control, unresponsive while he appears awake, often people don't remember having them at all..."

"I found him on the kitchen floor, too sick to stand. He wasn't coherent at first, I thought he was blind drunk, and he's not been himself at all since. His mind is a mess. He was laying in a mess... enough of a mess, I guess, he must have been flailing about in it."

"It's more common for those with a poor diet," Peverell turned to give Severus a very pointed look. "Certain bad habits come to mind."

"I fixed it!" Severus snapped. "You're here to help him, anyway, not nag me about what I eat."

"Right, so, probably a seizure. Thats all the worst news you could have given me, just so we've set expectations at the lowest bar. I'm going to take your vitals and see where we are," Peverell said. He tapped his shoulder and a snake popped out of his collar. "This works pretty much the same way the muggle devices that monitor heart rate and blood pressure do, but Hermes here is obviously a living creature and will talk to me. Some people find the sound off putting, but the diagnostic spells shouldn't feel like anything at all. I'm not entirely certain you will be able to see them, not even all wizards can clearly see diagnostics cast by someone else without a lot of training."

The next several minutes were surreal. It was a good job he'd been warned about Peverell talking to the snake, because his soul would have jumped clean out of his body otherwise. It seemed to freak Severus out too, the boy shivering at the sound before sitting himself in the armchair and pulling one leg up to hug close. There was something in the air above and around him that Peverell was looking at, but Tobias couldn't see shit. He touched him here and there, the way a doctor might, and helped him move a bit without hurting his back so he could get a closer look at Tobias' old injury. The scar between his shoulder blades where the metal had fallen onto him looked a right mess. People said he was lucky to be alive, two other men hadn't survived the accident, but he'd never quite seen it that way. Lucky would have been if he'd been a little stronger to keep from being crushed or faster and gotten off the floor in time after the alarm sounded.

"That's got to be painful," the idiot boy said.

"You can't give a muggle skele-gro to fix broken bones, it'll poison them," Eileen said.

"The bone isn't the problem, it's his spinal column being pinched," he muttered, the snake still moving in slow circles around Tobias' arm.

"The spine is bones," Eileen snapped.

"The bones protect 'is spinal column," Severus cut in, timid and in his correct accent for once. "The nerves tha' bring signals from the brain to the rest of the body, controlling ev'rything. Is that wha's wrong with Da's back?"

"Not the sort of thing I can fix. Maybe ten years ago, when it first happened, something could have been done. Maybe in ten years, if I become a master healer, I would know what to do. As it stands, you need a hundred galleons, a method of time travel, and someone willing to treat it, since you aren't technically a citizen," Peverell said.

"I was born in England," Tobias protested.

"Yes, muggle England, part of the United Kingdom. Not Greater Albion, a nation of magic that controls... honestly a fair bit more of the North Sea than you might expect," Peverell said, his hand on Tobias' shoulder feeling far warmer than it ought to all of the sudden. The tip of his wand leaked warm sparks that settled over Tobias' body before sinking reluctantly into his skin. "Our France doesn't have anything near the same borders, either, and after that mess during the forties there might be a dozen wizards left over the age of thirty who would call themselves German. You might say nationalism has gone out of fashion in that part of Europe, though I don't expect anything in that part of the map is terribly stable at the moment. Ask Severus for a look in our history books sometime, if he has one written more recently than 1910. Hogwarts has a bit of a staffing issue where that's concerned and that class is a bit out of date. The upper-class tutor and groom their kids for their place in politics so they don't care to fund it better. As for me, I can perform some generalized healing, try to get your body back to a stable state."

"You've started that," Tobias pointed out.

"You are a lot more aware of magic than the average muggle," Peverell said, a cheeky smile on his face. He said something that was more hiss than anything else, and it had his wand flashing and sparking again, much brighter this time, and Tobias felt less desperately poorly.

"Am I still dying tomorrow?" he asked boldly.

"Toby," Eileen hissed.

"It was intended to be murder." The snake slithered up Peverell's arm, and the boy was already turning away.

"What?" Tobias barked.

"You were supposed to be murdered," the boy said, his back to all of them. "Now you're too sick to walk."

"You asked a seer how long you had left to live, but nothing about the how and whys of it?" Eileen screeched. Eileen seemed to have become more of a decorative statue at some point during Tobias' checkup, so it was good to see she hadn't completely left them behind in favor of a daydream.

"I didn't ask for shit, I was having nightmares of Severus getting his neck ripped open with a bloody countdown!" he roared back.

"You dreamed what, exactly?" Peverell said, rushing back to Tobias' side.

"It was me?" Severus said, sounding small and hugging his leg even tighter.

"Wolf or snake?" Peverell asked.

"You can't know about that!" Severus shouted, popping up out of the chair like he was spring loaded.

"A snake," Tobias said. "Why would it be a wolf?"

"Don't be stupid," Peverell said, rolling his eyes at Severus. "You know how I know, because you know how I know how people die. There shouldn't be a snake anymore. Nobody should be dreaming of you dying in that shit hole shack from a fucking snake!" He seemed properly upset about it.

"What snake?" Severus asked.

"I killed her," Peverell said. "It was Neville, before, but he didn't get it done until after you were dead, so I found her. It was a lot easier than I expected, she practically came to me. She was a maledictus, and a murderer even before she got trapped as a snake permanently, and the world's better off."

"You killed a witch, because she would have murdered Severus," Eileen said softly.

"I killed a snake who used to be a witch, because she liked to swallow sentient beings whole, a lot of them still alive and begging for mercy at the time, others while they were dazed and bleeding out," Peverell said. His voice was cold and steady, and the shadows were dancing further up the walls than they should be again.

"During the attack that burned your village," Severus whispered.

"After, while I was advertising the bakery and looking for employees," Peverell said. "You were hardly her only victim." Tobias was impressed despite himself. Severus had caught a live one for sure. Killing an animal wasn't illegal, though if she'd been a woman at some point that might be a little hazy, but she'd been destined to kill Severus and if Tobias had known enough to track the snake down he'd have done the same thing.

"Got your tenses mixed up, there. I'm fine," Severus said, reaching out cautiously to touch Peverell's arm. "Completely un-murdered, me."

"Fair point," Peverell whispered. "I get a bit... caught up in what might be, sometimes. Stay out of the Shrieking Shack, please."

"That already happened; I owe a life debt about it. I had to take an oath of secrecy, so I can't say much else," Severus looked at his mother, and Tobias did as well. She was pale and scandalized, and Tobias wasn't sure what she'd do with all this information. He certainly didn't understand enough of it to be happy about any of it.

"Severus, stay out of there," Peverell said, eyes on the ground but voice firm.

"I didn't say I was stupid enough to go back now that I know what's in there!" Severus said, crossing his arms defensively while anger raised his voice. "So Da was supposed to get murdered tomorrow, but now he's too sick to go out to cross paths with whoever it was going to be and we'll all probably be home taking care of him, and Ma's got her wand out and ready, so it's fine." Peverell looked up at Severus, looking wary and biting his lip. "What? What else?"

"Are you sure you want me to ask?" Peverell cautioned.

"Yes," Severus insisted.

"Have you heard anything from Avery or Mulciber?" Peverell asked.

"Why would...?" Severus started to squeak indignantly, but cut it off abruptly as his face went white as chalk and his anger transformed into pure terror. "Da was going to be murdered tomorrow night."

"I got a letter from the school this morning, didn't you? Last Monday in July, so the standardized exam scores are out," Peverell said. Severus swayed, his breath coming in quick pants. "I got a letter from my cousin asking how they went. Anyone contact you about yours?"

"No, they didn't," Severus said quietly, tears dripping steadily from his eyes now. "No, no, that isn't happening."

"Of course it isn't going to happen," Peverell said, which was reassuring.

"They don't know where I live," Severus said, sniffing and rubbing his face to try and stop weeping like a little girl. "They don't. I didn't. I said I wouldn't and I didn't." Eileen was still frozen, confusion etched into her face. Clearly only the two boys understood what they were on about. Peverell stepped forward and opened his arms. Severus just stayed still sniffling pathetically like a total lemon, so Tobias leaned back on the couch to kick him square in the rump. The weepy boy fell forward into Peverell's comfort and the half-hearted glares Tobias got over Severus' shoulder were fair enough.

"Thank the man for killing a rabid animal to keep you safe, and for making sure I was so paranoid about my nightmares I made myself too much of a mess to get killed," Tobias said. "I've taught you some kind of manners, haven't I, boy?"

"Can you stay?" Severus half-sobbed, he seemed to be getting worse instead of better put together with Peverell awkwardly petting his back. How chaste were wizards, normally, that they hadn't done anything yet when they were living together half the week? Eileen gave Tobias the impression he'd been easy as a Sunday morning, but then he'd thought most men were. Perhaps it was because they were homosexuals? Then he realized where Peverell would be sleeping if he stayed the night since Tobias was stuck on the couch.

"Now hold on," Tobias tried to butt in.

"I still have to take that potion with dinner," Peverell said, shaking his head. "Not sure what use I'd be after. You said yourself they shouldn't have any reason to show up here anyway, and it wouldn't be tonight. If you really want to come, the bakery is closed Tuesdays so I have a bunch of chores and errands but just, well, all the domestic stuff and getting my own food for the week. A trip to the laundromat is the big one. You could arrive in the afternoon sometime tomorrow and spend the night if it makes you feel safer. I get up at three-fifteen Wednesday morning to get the dough proofing, but usually take a nap after the first round of setup and I could probably pop up to see you off at a more reasonable hour. There is the bunk bed, after all. I could take the bottom and your parents could use the master, but then this house would be empty."

"You mentioned a village burning?" Tobias said.

"Bit like the IRA, bit like part of the conservative party just went off the rails and decided to kill anyone who disagrees with their politics," Peverell said. Severus was still sniffing, but finally got himself tucked into Peverell's neck in a way that looked natural. It would have been easier if Severus had been born a girl, but he wasn't. Tobias didn't think there were rules for how to handle a boy coming after his boy, but he could take what he might do if it was a boy after his girl and if it was a girl after his boy and split the difference.

"Bloody Tories," Tobias grumbled.

"We'd say rotten old Oaks, but yeah, same energy, and we don't have a house of commons," Peverell said. Severus had collected himself to realize he was being cuddled in front of his parents, his dark eyes darting around as if checking this was alright. It wasn't, but Tobias wasn't well enough to get off the couch and there was definitely something done to him that was helping keep his temper in check because he really should be screaming about this curly-haired medic with his arm around his boy.

"Right, so, we'll think about that offer," Eileen said, finally shaken from her statue impression. "For now, what exactly did you do to Tobias?"

"His blood pressure and heart rate were up dangerously high, so I calmed him to prevent any severe issues there. You will want to reapply that to handle tremors or racing heartbeat as needed." Tobias did not like the sound of that. "I helped his body filter toxins and did some generalized healing to bring his vitals back to a good baseline, but that is very temporary. There was some damage I was able to fix, but not much. Mostly bruising from a fall or something I think, and I numbed the problematic area of his back," here Peverell turned to speak to Tobias, and Severus stepped back from him, taking a deep calming breath as he finally got himself in order, "which should reduce your overall pain, but will likely make you rather clumsy given how high up on your back the injury is. That can't be done much or you risk permanent nerve damage. I do mean at best a loss of fine control for your hands and feet and at worst paralysis, so don't even ask me to do it again. Your body has to find its own equilibrium now that the alcohol is gone, though if you want to risk not kicking the addiction, a drink - I mean one - to reduce the withdrawal symptoms will help."

"Just a sip, though, when he needs it to keep the symptoms in control," Eileen said, and Peverell nodded.

"The tremors are going to be what to watch for that, I expect, and willow bark - aspirin - in moderation for headache. If you have a bad nosebleed or bloody shits get to an A&E as fast as you can. The more alcohol you drink, the longer this will take, but if you have none you'll have another seizure which very well could kill you. It's a balancing act between being deathly ill and getting better if you are serious about getting off it - which can be almost impossible to do by yourself so having your wife control how much you have isn't anything to say about your willpower or ability. It's just what it takes, if you plan to not be drunk twenty hours out of the day anymore. I can't do anything about the seizure, and you may have another one if you get properly drunk again. You can go to a muggle hospital to get that treated, and if you have another that's another sign you should get to an A&E fast. I just don't know anything about that beyond that it's the sort of thing you bring to a fully qualified healer, but I was under the impression that if a seizure was going to kill you it would happen in less than a day, so maybe you got lucky or Mrs. Snape's first aid worked. Generally, eat many small light meals through the day rather than any large ones to handle the nausea and be sure to keep hydrated."

"So, treat it like a nasty fever?" Eileen summarized.

"If you want to go the home care route instead of a hospital, essentially yes," Peverell said. "The willow bark will thin his blood, so it's better for his symptoms than paracetamol - which can stress the liver, which is already in a lot of trouble - but someone has to keep an eye on him."

"We can do that, thank you for coming," Eileen said. There was a bit of an awkward moment where Severus and Peverell didn't seem to remember how to talk, and then Severus took Peverell's hand and kissed it, sending the slightly taller boy out the door like a shot.

"We will be having a talk about that," Eileen said to Severus.

"I had one with Da already," Severus said.

"You can't court a boy, Severus," Eileen started up.

It may have started out with logic and facts, but inside of five minutes it became a shouting fight. He couldn't remember the last time Severus screamed in anger like that. He always seemed like a spineless Nancy boy, which was why Tobias was so hard on him to try and toughen him up. Eileen really must have been dreaming if she thought the boy wasn't queer, though Severus said he did fancy some older girls. It was a rough night. Severus sat with his nose in a book after Eileen stormed out, making sure Tobias wasn't dying. Eventually she came back, made some food, and took over the watch. Tobias was helped out to the bog again and cleaned, again with magic, and then floated up to the bed. She stood over him, considering him for a long time.

"What?" he barked. He was starting to feel like himself again.

"You liked it," she said.

"Well, you'd just sucked me through a straw without any warning and I vomited all over my new shoes, and then you said that's just what all magic was like. How would I have known it could be different?"

"You liked it when I overpowered you," she said again, and she pulled out her wand to point it at his chest. "You liked being helpless on the floor looking up at my legs."

"I was sick. Delirious; you heard it yourself," Tobias tried to deny.

"But it was better that way, and you liked it, didn't you? It hurt your back less, and it made you randy. I could do it, Toby. I could keep you like a doll, only able to move where I put you." Damn it all, but the very thought made him shiver, and not with fear. "You've been out of control a long time. I... You have to tell me yes, Toby. You have to tell me I can. I won't... I won't be some monster who keeps a pet muggle. You tell me I'm allowed to do this, even after you are strong enough to stand again, or I won't."

He looked up at her dark eyes, trying to make his mouth work. He was a proud man, and even with calm forced on him he didn't want to admit to any of it. Then again, maybe he didn't have to.

"I still hate magic. It's caused me no end of trouble. On the other hand, we're deep in the shit, aren't we?"

"Toby," Eileen began.

"I don't want to die, El. I was just trying to... I've been useless forever, and those damn nightmares made me think I had to be ready for something to come attack my family."

"I still love you, Toby." Her dark eyes glittered, but with tears this time. "Despite it all."

"For now... do what needs done, however you need to do it. God knows you'll snap your own back trying to haul me around without your wand. The rest we can figure out later," Tobias said, as authoritative as he could be while laying sick in bed.

"I'll hold you to that," she said, showing more spine than he'd seen from her in years.

"I'm not weak, even if I am sick and hurt."

"You can take it?" she said, lifting it into a question.

"I can take anything you can dish out, woman."

"We'll see."

Chapter Text

Life wasn't perfect, and he was fairly certain he'd lost Lily's friendship for good, but on balance things were alright. The bad was obvious. Ma didn't want to go to Birmingham, but none of them slept a wink the night of the 27th. Severus spent pretty much all of that Tuesday and most of the following few days as a depressed broody slug, re-thinking and over-analyzing every moment since he'd started Hogwarts. He was poor as dirt, and everyone knew it just from how he looked. Hardly anyone at Hogwarts wanted to be seen with him because of that. Even Lily was able to talk herself up to sound like she had been born proper middle class, and he supposed she really was that far above his own family now that her father got that promotion in their second year. Lily's father had just been a floor manager at the mill before, but now he worked in the office. While her parents would swear as bad as Severus' if they had reason to, they had always worked to be more proper and had an eye to work their way higher up in the world. Severus wanted to do better for himself, he had gotten into Slytherin due to some rather lofty ambitions after all, but his parents either didn't want to or didn't have the ability to make their lives better.

Severus wasn't sure that factored into why their friendship had gotten more complicated as time went on, but it might have. It didn't line up with when she'd asked him not to talk to her in public anymore or anything, but it may have factored in. Severus knew what he was, a guttersnipe and a weirdo. Fey-touched, a lot of the neighbors said, and he supposed that was fair. Lily was always so kind to tolerate him, and he knew that well enough to be properly grateful for it. He knew it was her grace that let her see past that to be his friend. He'd done his best, or thought he had. He'd made mistakes and he knew it, and he always apologized. He'd learned, practiced even, the things Lily mentioned about how to act proper and Ma helped him learn to talk like he had some worth. He had to mold himself into something better, since he wasn't good enough as he started, and eventually it worked. People talked to him for more reason than asking him to get out of their way. With his good grades he was asked to tutor people in exchange for a knut or two, though in general they found him abrasive and didn't like how he corrected them sometimes. Wasn't that was the whole point of tutoring? Yet every time he seemed to make some progress with his house mates - who weren't all blood supremacists even if both his dorm mates were - or other students in their year, it seemed to take him further from his one true friend.

There were people who talked to him regularly now, even if they weren't anything close to friends. He traded favors for incidental help with homework or information. Ma couldn't send him much, so he had to trade for stationery and toiletries. Being so overlooked, and rather good at going unnoticed in a shadow even if the Gryffindor boys seemed always able to find him recently, Severus overheard a lot of things. The gossips loved it when he brought them some juicy tidbit of information they could cluck about and extrapolate from. He spent a lot of time observing people and listening at doorways, which was really the best way to keep himself safe and know what was coming, and while he hadn't quite figured out how to act completely normally by observing others he had learned to spot when people were trying to hide a crush or had been sneaking out after curfew or whatever. He was less likely to be shoved aside if he was sitting in a spot in the common room someone else wanted and more likely to be asked politely to move, and that was a notable improvement in the general state of things. There were even a few girls, when he thought about it, who might not laugh in his face if he brought them flowers. Not that he thought any of them would take him seriously, but they might be up for a bit of fumbling around in a closet.

It was a purely theoretical line of thought, since he was quite happy courting Peverell. He couldn't quite believe that Da was fine with that, or that his father had kicked him into Harry's arms when he started freaking out. Harry had been amazing, accepting that Severus was having one of his fits as if that was a normal thing to do and just letting him work through it. For Merlin's sake, Severus nearly murdered his father, but Peverell had just whispered to him that he'd made his choice not to invite his dorm mates over. Like it was that simple! Like he wasn't being an embarrassing weepy mess over nothing!

Mr. Macdonald's words came back to him as he was resting in bed unable to summon the will to do anything but lay still and feel like an awful person. It sounds to me like you thought about all that, and considered joining this group of radicals... but you haven't done it and may not want to... You are allowed to have trouble making the right choices. Could it really be just that? He'd had a hard time making a decision, but he picked the right one, so it didn't count. That didn't seem real. He felt like he ought to be punished, not rewarded, for what he'd nearly done. He would have, he would have! He could have killed his father, he certainly hated the man enough, or at least he would have given the man over to be killed by the Dark Lord to prove he had no love of muggle ways. Tobias Snape made Severus and his Ma's lives horrible. He was violent, drunk, and resentful of Severus going to some fancy boarding school with a bunch of rich kids. He called Severus a class traitor when he said he wanted a job doing research.

Tobias beat them for any reason no matter how real or small, and drank most of their money, and the only thing that kept them from being homeless was the settlement with the mill saying they now owned their nearly worthless house instead of renting it and could live there forever as compensation for Da being disabled from an industrial accident. Of course, they had to pay council tax directly and didn't have a landlord obligated to repair the building for them, since they owned it, so Severus thought it was a bad deal all around. There was never enough of anything in the Snape home; most years Severus didn't even have a coat warm or dry enough for the winter storms and had to stay indoors. The house itself was never kept warm in the winter, not that he'd ever come home for winter holidays once he started Hogwarts, and then there was only ever just enough food they didn't actually die from the lack of it. Severus had gone out to gather twigs and such to put into the stove to supplement their meager fuel supply plenty of times. While Ma could use warming charms to keep the place from icing over, that only worked well if she was well fed and not too tired to cast them.

If he tried, he could remember a time when it wasn't quite so bad. It had always been hard, but Da used to laugh. He had a hazy memory of Ma and Da snuggled under a blanket near the fire when it snowed, one on either side of him, taking turns reading a book. None of that warmth between them was left, or he didn't think so, but Ma seemed to think she could use Da freaking out over nightmares as a way to maybe fix him up a bit. At least, she seemed keen to get him under control, which she didn't really enjoy except that it might make their lives better if she could figure out how to put him back together in a way that was less broken than he had been. Severus hoped she'd manage, but wasn't about to hang his hat on it. He was nearly grown enough to leave them behind, after all.

None of the people in Severus' part of town liked that he'd gone to a posh school and learned to talk like the upper classes. They had never liked his Ma because she was some strange runaway blueblood. He'd always been a bit of an odd duck, though his father's reputation as an angry drunk kept most people from bothering with him, so he'd never really fit in with his own class. Then he'd made friends with a manager's daughter, and people didn't like that either. Now word was getting around that he worked in a bakery in Birmingham, and the working-class people around him respected that enough to nod at him when he passed them by in the street. He was still dirt poor, but now people thought about how he might turn out as a decent man after all when he met their eyes.

Ma had a talk with him about legilimency while Da was asleep. She'd explained the natural talent he'd inherited from her family and how to control it before, but she went a little more in depth to the theory this time. Reading people that way was just so easy, or he'd thought so, and he gleaned the most surface thoughts of whoever he was talking to almost without him wanting to do it. He had a better grasp over why surface thoughts could be misleading, now. Intrusive thoughts and things that someone noticed but didn't put any credit to might float on the surface of their mind for a moment, but their deeper thoughts and opinions may or may not reflect those fleeting notions. Even if they did, they might disregard those things in favor of other goals and notions since most people's minds operated on at least three levels even for the most vapid conversations. People could have seven or even more layers even without studying occlumency if they were particularly complicated inside, and it was unlikely he'd ever meet anyone so numb and dim they wouldn't notice if he tried to look deeper than two. Figuring out what he saw really meant was the more difficult part of legilimancy, and he'd need to remember to take anything he learned via the art with a grain of salt. The lesson was familiar, but he must not have been old enough to really understand it the first time.

Lots of things were better in his life just recently, and it was all down to Harry, really. Macdonald and Fortescue had given him a chance because they caught him talking to Harry about a bit of politics and his whole situation. He couldn't imagine saying those things in a hallway under other circumstances, if only because everyone knew or thought they knew all about it already. None of his dorm mates would ever talk about the Dark Lord and that just in the open no matter if they agreed with him or not. That one afternoon kicked off a cascading change for the better. The gifts of new clothes and the trip to the barber. He could do the hot clean towel thing to his face easy enough in his own room since he could cast magic in his house without anyone caring. Lily had always been bent out of shape by the idea that the government monitored her home to be sure she didn't break underage sorcery laws but assumed any magic Severus cast in his home was supervised by his Ma. Maybe it wasn't fair, but it let him sanitize an old rag and wet it with hot water every day to clean and soak his skin. It didn't work quickly, the barber had told him he'd have to keep it up and keep his face clean through the day to see the most benefits, but it was something when before he hadn't known of anything he could do to help his face and it was free. He kept at it, and after several weeks his spots weren't covering three-quarters of his face like they used to. It would have to be good enough.

He was trying not to spend every coin he earned and buying something as expensive as vanishing cream for his spots, or even just the ingredients, would drain his pockets faster than anything. Saving money was hard, he'd never realized how easy it was to spend it all as soon as he got paid, but he needed to keep every coin he could for his school things. He really hoped he could afford a set of uniforms that would at least fit correctly and blend in with his classmates, even if they were still second hand. Tailoring was expensive, and Ma was terrible at crafts, but a hem wasn't so pricey to get done and the belt and shoes Mr. Macdonald bought him would go a long way even if their style wasn't quite right for wizard wear. If he could get robes long enough to pull up over the belt, so it bloused a little without being too baggy to hide the chunky muggle style of the belt, that would save him the cost of a hem so long as it wasn't frayed. He did get little things now and then, like the day he'd gotten himself some hot chips with malt vinegar for lunch and could sit in the chippy while he ate them. The loud music filled his brain for a while, which was much more relaxing than hanging about outside keeping an eye out for muggers or his Da. Not that he had anything to steal, but they'd still rough him up. One of the neighbors had caught him on the way out to be nosy about Severus' job while he was still mostly in his own head and annoyed at being questioned. Severus' waspish answer that he was glad he got most of his work done making things before the customers were halfway out of bed was received with good humor instead of offense.

The afternoon when some of his coworkers went to get curry had been a lot of fun. There simply must be something wrong with Harry that he could eat that many hot peppers in the first place, though he did seem a bit queasy the following day. Severus made Harry some simple toast and tea - using some good quality bread, the benefits of owning a bakery were many - when his shift was done to help settle the blazing fire that was no doubt working through Harry's system. Living in Harry's house was oddly comfortable, and a lot easier than he expected. He kept his room clean, made or helped make about half the meals, tossed some cleaning charms around and cleaned up after himself, and generally got to do what he liked when he was off shift.

Wandering around Birmingham wasn't quite the same as Cokeworth - the city was bigger and had bigger and less well-known dangers than his more familiar hometown. He did find the libraries, both the muggle and the little wizarding one in the magical district he could enter by walking under the bridge over the canal. The water didn't stink quite as bad here as it did in Cokeworth, which was nice, and if he wore his new polo shirt people treated him like he was somebody instead of like he was rubbish. He'd gotten a steady stream of reading materials from both libraries, thanks to being able to claim he was a Birmingham resident. Harry gave him official paperwork saying he was renting a room above the bakery. It only cost him a couple knuts out of each check to be above-board, but they'd discussed how having records would work in Severus' favor later on. The record of income and renting the room would give him something he could use to prove his reliability that would make up for his muggle name and lower class, which was more practical advice for how to start climbing up out of the gutter than anyone had offered him. Getting good grades was obvious, and nobody had bothered explaining how to get started on things like building credit and having references. Harry was oddly willing to read anything Severus said was worth the time, even the darker books, and they talked about them sometimes, though Harry didn't have anywhere near as much leisure time as Severus did.

Severus wasn't legally allowed to work the long hours Harry did, and Harry refused to do anything off the books, flat out. It had to all be above board, what with two governments worth of inspectors and scrutiny on the place. Severus' favorite days were Fridays when he would wake up with Harry to get started at 3:30, make a bunch of things with Houseman showing up at 4 to put their prep work to use, and then Severus would knock off an hour after they opened for a three and a half hour long break where he went upstairs to eat, read, listen to the wireless, or generally lounge around. Then, Severus came back as support during the feeding frenzy that was the lunch rush, they closed at two, and he helped clean and set up for the next day. The bakery was open later on Saturdays and he slept through the early morning work to work a more normal shift. Sundays they didn't open until noon since everyone was supposed to be in church for the morning, so it was a much shorter day where most of what Severus did was help stock for Monday's rush. He put in twenty-four hours across three days at max. Harry made sure his income was properly registered under both governments properly so he didn't get double taxed and could reap all the benefits he was due.

There were real benefits, too. After a month of employment in a magical business he qualified for better quality medical care, which had lapsed since Ma worked at a muggle grocer and didn't pay taxes to Greater Albion. Severus wasn't entirely certain she shouldn't be, but no matter what Harry said, Severus figured what the aurors don't know isn't his problem. In any case, Severus got an owl with the paperwork explaining how to get himself a healthcare card on that awful Tuesday, and Da wouldn't let him up from the breakfast table until he'd filled it all out ready to file. Then, he nagged Ma until she promised to take Severus to London. Da went on and on about how he'd always had his papers in order even when he was barely functional, or else the dole payments would have stopped and the electric would be cut off, so Severus would be sure to do it just as well or better with his own affairs or else.

So that's what they did the very next day, and both his parents came along - even though Da was still clearly sick and retched up what he'd had for breakfast when they apperated. Severus arranged an appointment with the solicitor as well, which was a bit last minute but the man had a cancellation he was happy to fill. Severus had gone with Mr. Macdonald before, and he took the time to explain about the bank draft and how something was hinky while they waited for the clerk in the St. Mungos patient services office to finish making him an ID card. He had to make an appointment for a semi-annual physical, but they set it up to be done at Hogwarts in early October.

Harry had hardly glanced at the letter that first night Severus stayed over before saying it didn't come from Fleamont Potter. Londinuim vault 687? That number is pretty high for a family that old and prestigious. Maybe it could be an heir's vault, but the Potters have been in England long enough they should be in the first four hundred. That isn't about wealth, it's about ancestry. The Peverell vault is one sixteen, even though there wasn't much money in it compared to other low-number vaults. It isn't like a muggle bank account number, Mr. Evans, the numbered vaults are actual places you can go visit. More like a street address, and anything under a thousand gets inherited or put up for auction. You can't really do much with the number alone even if you know who it belongs to, either. This letter might even be forged, and I wouldn't trust any contract wording written out in blue ink from a wizard. We use brown as a rule for anything like this, because there is a special ink that verifies identity by tagging the magical signature of the person writing, and if you can't afford it we use our own blood - which also dries brown. The bank draft looks real, though. I don't know what to make of that. Severus felt dirty anytime he looked at the letter from the start and had done his best not to think about it, but knowing it might have been a trap to make him attempt bank fraud made it even worse.

None of them breathed a word about Da being an alcoholic in front of the solicitor. They just said he was badly injured at work a while back and had some recent complications with his disability. Ma helped parse the legal jargon, but it came down to Harry being half-right. Mr. Macdonald's sense that it was childish had been verified during Severus' first visit to the office. The letter that came with the bank draft outlining a contract for payment in exchange for silence was legal nonsense. It sounded official enough to a layman but didn't use the technical terms properly. Severus quite liked how exact and precise the language needed to be for secrecy contracts like this, and the way the solicitor explained them made so much sense. He felt a lot less stupid now that he knew it wasn't properly worded.

This time he got some more answers once his parents were brought up to speed. Vault 687 was an heir vault - the Potter heir vault to be exact - though if it was registered for use by James Potter or his cousin Charlus was unknown. The bank draft didn't seem fraudulent, James Potter had likely written it and authorized it with a drop of blood mixed into the ink he used to sign his father's name and that would be good enough for the Goblins if it was the right blood for the right account. What Potter wrote using his blood wouldn't matter at all, so long as he didn't write something along the lines of 'canceled' or 'void.' What they couldn't know without contacting the Potter family was if James Potter had that much money in his account, if he was permitted to make drafts of that size from that vault, or if Fleamont Potter knew anything about any of it.

The solicitor planned to try and collect the money from the bank, accepting a ten percent fee for his time and trouble if the payment went through and handing over the remaining 450G so Severus could open his own vault. If it didn't go through, the solicitor and the bank would go after James Potter for the relevant fees, with the appropriate documentation of the fraudulent draft from the bank to back up the claim. In either case, he had prepared a statement to send to Fleamont Potter declaring the contract invalid due to compounding errors rendering it either meaningless or in violation of the decrees outlawing the practice of human slavery. One potential reading of the contract would essentially mean Severus could never speak ill of or bring harm to James Potter or anyone he considered a friend for the rest of their natural lives, even indirectly. Another would have it that Severus had to be kind to the Potters and couldn't talk about nothing that wasn't truthful or untruthful in a cascade of negatives and misused technicalities that worked out to a vow of silence and service. It really was a mess that made no sense.

Da was a right mess trying to be civil while ill, so he went to sit in the tube station not far from Diagon Alley since he couldn't stand to wait in the Leaky Cauldron. Ma went with him, worrying aloud about him having another seizure. Severus walked with the solicitor to the bank. He was in his best robe with the crisp collar of his new dress shirt showing out the top. It had been one of his Ma's rather than from a second-hand shop, the sort of thing an upper class witch might wear on a weekend instead of their school uniform when she was a girl, and he'd carefully unstitched the lace from the sleeves and clipped the satin rosette flowers off the body so it was just dull green vines on gray. He could still tell where it had been inexpertly deflowered because the fabric was less faded under the rosettes, but it was the best he had by far. Harry had hit it with a repairo after Severus' hand slipped and that had fixed both the hole he accidentally made when clipping off one of the rosettes and mended the frayed edges and worn patches of the embroidery fairly well. Because of that, wearing it made him think of the casual, no strings attached care his boyfriend showed him. Potential boyfriend, there were six days to go before their first real date after all. Still, it was a comfort to wear something Harry's magic had helped mend.

The goblins took three sickles to break any ties the contract may or may not have with the bank draft, which Severus paid and didn't ask if it had really been necessary. The solicitor's letter to the head of the Potter family was notarized by the bank and sent off. Then, they tried to use the bank draft. The wait was agonizing, but the goblin came back with a feral grin and a bag of gold. Severus opened an account, vault number 17,932 was about the size of his wardrobe back home if tipped on its side, and he added half his accumulated wages to the initial deposit so he'd be less likely to spend it.

It wasn't over. It was likely Fleamont Potter would hit the roof when he got a letter accusing his son of attempting to enslave one of his classmates in exchange for five hundred galleons of hush money, if not for the things he was trying to stop Severus from talking about with that poorly worded contract. Severus didn't know how that would shake out. A part of him hoped that James Potter would finally get what he had coming and Severus could agree not to try and bring charges in court without feeling like he'd become a rentboy - charges that weren't likely to stick no matter what, because convincing the peerage during the trial that the school staff was aware but complicit in the cover-up instead of reporting it as was their duty would be a tall order. Severus didn't want to get his hopes up. It would have been less degrading if the bank draft had never come, but again that was probably Harry's doing since he'd lit a fire under Potter's cousin about it all. A bit of bad in with the good. Severus was pretty sure he'd spotted the five members of the Potter family having a heated discussion under a shimmering old-fashioned silencing spell when he got off the train back in June. Honestly, Severus had gotten the shimmer off of his silencing spells by the end of first year by tweaking the pronunciation and focusing more on the intent than the mechanics. People were just so lazy about using sloppy magic.

Ma brought them home, Da shaking and whimpering about how he'd behave himself better than he had if she'd stop sucking him through the world and just let him take the train. It was so weird to see him so weak. He'd been this menacing, overbearing, violent presence in Severus' life for so long he could only barely remember that things used to be better. Now he was so sick he could hardly function, which wasn't exactly better but it was different. Not that Severus was feeling terribly energetic. Wrung out from all the horrors of his life, he'd crawled into bed and hardly moved until it was time to take the Thursday night train to Birmingham.

He didn't say a word to Harry about all the legal nonsense, but Harry could tell his mood wasn't great. He didn't say so, but he thought it loudly and fixed a simple meal of chicken thighs and mixed veg while Severus unpacked and moped around. Just like with classes, Severus could focus on his tasks at work to shove all his troubles aside, and then Friday evening Harry sat next to him, tense as a bowstring.

"No potion tonight," Harry said.

"You'll be fine, though, right?" Severus asked, blinking as he looked up from the book on the unique qualities of rune arrays with five lines of symmetry he'd been reading.

"Should do," Harry said. "Mind if I see what's on the wireless? I just... need to stop thinking about it."

"It's your flat," Severus said, looking back at his book. It was a bit less interesting than it had been, what with Harry sitting so close.

The wireless channels flicked from sports - a gobstone tournament half in Welsh, yeesh - to the news - a piece on the rising political tensions Harry listened to for a moment before nearly punching the radio off the side table in his haste to change it - to some dreary old quartet singing songs popular with people four times their age. That was the trouble with wizarding music, really. The stuff people his age liked was almost exclusively found in live venues and hard to source records, both of which cost a fair amount of money, while the stuff beloved by people twice his Ma’s age dominated the wireless stations. Severus was hardly the only boy at Hogwarts whose favorite band was muggle almost by default.

Harry had those odd recordings of a rock band led by a violinist, some that sounded like instruments screaming, and another few that sounded like a full orchestra, but he'd said the cylinders were memory pressed and not bought. It was a tricky way of recording sound from memory. It took a lot of mental focus to be certain you weren't adding in other things you associated with the memory when you encoded the cylinder and they had a bunch of fussy limitations on top of being single use. If you did it wrong, that was it, and they were proprietary so no chance of making them yourself. The only option was to buy a new one and start over. They had a few practical applications, but weren't often used for music since music often made people think about other things and spoil the recording. Severus was sure that Harry had only done it because there was no other way for him to hear those songs again, that they came from his enclave, and he wanted to preserve them before the memory faded too much. Severus had certainly never heard music like it anywhere else, not that Severus had a lot of chances at listening to music. Aside from the chippy in Cokeworth, his life was rather quiet. A lot of his time was spent out in the allotments, or in the sparse, polluted stand of trees beyond them where the sounds of town were distant.

There were few words in Harry's recordings, just the occasional vocalization that put paid to any denial of of his fey traits from the vibrant green eyes to the intense aura of magic around him when he was roused, or maybe one line that was probably referencing some poem or folk story from Harry's village. One Severus liked was a sort of oriental orchestral thing that was like nothing else, starting calm and peaceful, perhaps even a little sad, and then slowly building to this grand celebratory feeling he could practically taste. It was a bit like an audio version of one of those painted rice paper scrolls Avery showed off that told a story as you unrolled it. That one had been imported from Asia, and Avery didn't know anything about the history or where it came from and that, he just knew it was the sort of extremely expensive thing certain girls liked to look at and pretend they understood to seem more refined and posh. Of course, what made that sort of thing valuable was usually the history attached to it, but Avery was never all that bright. All Harry had said about the song was that it was called If I Should Return, and the artist used a mix of Celtic and Asian folk music styles that reminded Harry of happy things, which pretty much confirmed what Severus guessed about it coming from the enclave. It was good the cylinders didn't wear out the way muggle records did, since Severus had played it so many times.

Harry also liked regular muggle rock music, though he hadn't recognized the few songs Severus knew by name. He mentioned hearing some of them while at the laundrette as time went on, and while neither of them was an audiophile it certainly seemed they had similar taste - excluding the screaming songs that sounded like pure channeled rage. Harry gave up on the wireless having anything playing worth listening to and started to fiddle with the player. Their eyes met as he turned away from the player. Why was he so nervous and tense?

"I heard one of the songs you mentioned the other day and I thought, well, I liked it a lot, so I found a record shop after I was done with my errands," Harry held up a muggle record. The white sleeve had obviously muggle-drawn fairies, a lion, a griffin, and a swan-like phoenix on it, with 'Queen, A Night At The Opera' in delicate script underneath. "I haven't listened to it yet, but it should have You're My Best Friend on it."

"Well, put it on then," Severus said, turning the daisy that was on the coffee table in front of him back into the scrap of newspaper it used to be so he could use it as a bookmark. Harry finished switching the player over from using enchanted cylinders to using flat vinyl records and set it playing.

The two-story flat came partially furnished, and most of what was in the sitting room was what the previous owner had when he rented it out. Harry said he'd had to hit the worn blue velvet couch and matching armchair with some powerful sanitation and repair spells, but the chunky coffee table would probably look worse if it wasn't so scuffed. As it was, the simple butcher block with blocky legs seemed like it had been there since the building was erected. Wood the same color as the room's trim was worn down on the corners and it stood just the right size he could prop his stocking feet on the metal rail that ran around the legs to better support the books he liked to curl over in the evenings. Harry usually sat in the armchair, often lounging sideways or twisted up into it like pasta on a fork. On the wall to the left of the entrance door was an enclosed stairway, and a wall came from the end of that to divide the first floor into two parts. A little built-in seat was tucked under the stairs, which Harry had recolored from the oaky and Victorian look of the rest of the space to a shockingly sterile white with a new fluffy green cushion and sky blue painted on the bit of angled ceiling above it. It was a nice place to sit, but Harry seemed uncomfortable whenever he found Severus there, which was odd. Severus had never seen Harry touch it, and the armchair had it's back to that corner.

A tiny but serviceable one-wall kitchen ran along the right side of the flat beyond that wall, with the magical cold cupboard visible through the large archway connecting the rooms. Harry said the refrigerator that had been there was knackered, and the magical equivalent was the cheaper option. The dining area was up by the windows overlooking the street, since the entrance to the flat was from a metal staircase in the alleyway. On the left side of kitchen and dining area, a great fireplace dominated the wall that had obviously been enchanted when Harry moved in. At minimum, Harry had it hooked up to the floo, though Severus was sure it had some practical and safety enchantments on it as well to help with temperature regulation in the building. Harry said he was glad the floo connection was in a less personal room, even if it meant the sitting room would have a bit of a draft come winter.

While the layout of the first floor was similar to the two-up two-down house Severus grew up in, the whole flat was noticeably deeper, wider, and generally nicer than the little terrace house with one cold tap in the kitchen heated by a stove he was used to. He supposed it fit the footprint of half the bakery below, but it was the second floor where the big differences were found.

Above the kitchen was a large full bath, at least in Severus' estimation. Then again his house only had a privy out in the yard, and he washed himself in a tin tub he had to set up in the kitchen and fill with the kettle. The previous owner hid the bog behind a door of its own in case one wanted privacy to poop while someone else was brushing their teeth or whatever, and there was a gooseneck shower conversion installed on the old clawfoot tub. The shower seemed to be a common thing muggles installed to alter old bathrooms to be more modern, Mr. Evans had bragged about having one installed a while back, but Severus just liked that the flat had hot water taps that were charmed so he didn't have to worry about burning extra coal or wood to have a hot bath.

The master bedroom was above the dining area facing the main street and the bedroom Severus used was above the sitting room, facing the alley. The air didn't stink quite as bad as Cokeworth, though it wasn't as clean as it was around Hogwarts. The view from the bedroom window was limited by the alley, and the buildings were closer together since there weren't any yards for them, but on balance it wasn't much better or worse than the view of the alley between the houses facing Spinner's and Cobbler's he had at home. It was still higher up than he was used to, so that was something. He'd heard Harry call the top bunk Severus' crow's nest. He liked that. He liked the room better than the one back home. There was plenty of space even with the oversized chest of drawers, banged up wardrobe, and desk that had come with the room and the bunk bed that Harry snagged cheap from some estate sale was comfortable enough.

If it wouldn't break Ma's heart, if he even suspected he had enough to cover half the rent and utilities for a home this big, he'd ask to move in. He still might, but maybe next year when he's seventeen. There wasn't another fireplace upstairs, but there was brickwork in the hallway near the top of the stairs with holes where air could circulate against the flue pipe, creating a natural draft as the cold air drifted in the bottom near the baseboard, was warmed, expanded and moved up through the brickwork naturally, and blew out at about Severus' eye level in a constant warm blast when the fire was going in the fireplace below. Not that they needed the fire for anything other than using the floo connection this time of year, but Harry had lit one so Severus could see the odd muggle trick with the brickwork in action when he kept asking questions about the physics. Severus peered into the holes and used his wand to puff colored smoke in the bottom to watch it zoom out the top - and no fans or spells needed!

They'd needed to open the windows to let the heat out, but it was a nice breezy day and since it was mostly a magical fire they hadn't wasted much fuel. Harry was really something to set a blaze like that on a single log, and he didn't seem to even realize how much more powerful he was than most other wizards. Severus was no slouch when it came to raw magical power, but he had a lot of trouble with his wand.

Ma had insisted he get a wand suited to him, no matter the expense, and had saved for years in anticipation of the purchase. His was black walnut and dragon heartstrings, perfectly cylindrical with a hilt completely covered in runes. Black walnut was finicky and sensitive, as wand woods went, and his wand didn't like to obey him all the time because he still hadn't mastered it. It seemed to fail him when it mattered most, when he needed to protect himself or was at all hesitant or unsure. The books he'd found about wand lore said he had to be more honest and to embrace his true self, since black walnut wands were sensitive to inner conflict and indecision, but he was an awful mess of a person. It was little wonder Potter and them had gotten the drop on him so often, and he had no chance after exams since he'd been a bundle of nerves and second-guessing over his answers. Even if he'd had his wand out first, it was unlikely it would have actually mattered.

He needed to fix himself up and be better. He needed to become someone strong who could stand tall and be proud of who he was, and then he would win his wand's loyalty. He didn't like feeling so weak when he knew he had power of his own, if only he could make sure it came out the way he wanted when he was under pressure. He knew he had points taken off his transfiguration practical because his wand had fought him when he was trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. The end result was a purse just the wrong shade of fleshy pink instead of a proper jewel-tone, but thankfully made of silk with functional metal clasps in the style requested.

During the DADA practical, Harry had wowed everyone by casting a corporeal patronus. He said most of the kids where he came from had been taught the spell, and joked with the examiner that it was a very effective night light an older sibling or parent could make when a little kid had a nightmare, but the stag he'd conjured up was massive. Severus was certain real stags were significantly smaller and the spell was illustrated in the books as producing a miniature figure of the patron animal. A patronus wasn't meant to radiate easily visible waves of magic like that, either, just trail a stream of silver mist behind them that blocked a certain class of dark creatures. It filled the room to bursting with magic that tingled down Severus' spine like warm honey and dancing charged pixies, obviously effecting the mood of everyone in the room. It was no shock to find out Harry had gotten an Outstanding with special commendation on his DADA O.W.L. exams after that display.

Severus had done better than he thought he would. Mostly Os in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, DADA, Herbology, and Potions. He only got an E in Care of Magical Creatures, History, and Transfiguration. He'd be keen to have a look at the rankings when they got back to school.

Harry had to take all the exams as part of his agreement about his wand rights as the last of his family. He got Os in Care, DADA, Herbology, History, and Muggle Studies. He got an E in Charms, Astronomy, Potions, and Transfiguration. Harry got an A in Arithmancy and Divination - which surprised Severus, but Harry said he'd had a terrible teacher so he didn't know much about all the methods of divination he'd been graded on even if his natural talent came easily. He'd failed Ancient Runes with a Poor, which they agreed was shockingly good for having never studied them before the three months he spent cramming for the exams. Harry had fully expected a Troll or Dreadful grade.

That was ten passing grades for Severus and eleven for Harry, though Severus had twenty-seven exam points to Harry's twenty-five. With scores so high they could pick their classes pretty much however they liked, but Severus was probably going to drop at least one so he could focus better on the rest and he knew he wanted to take the two-year Alchemy class which meant keeping Transfiguration and Potions - not that he would have dropped either anyway. Harry planned to take the Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. without taking the class, and encouraged Severus to do the same even though he hadn't taken the O.W.L. They would lose nothing if they failed, and Harry was sure both of them knew enough about the muggle way of life to pass with minimal studying. The qualification was simply too useful, in Harry's estimation, and they could avoid the associated political issues with their more violent classmates by not taking the class. They were half-bloods, after all, so it should be an easy A just from how they'd lived.

The first side of the record finished while Severus was lost in thought and Harry flipped it, but he seemed no more relaxed. Severus fiddled with his wand, thinking about being more like his best self and wondering what that might look like. The music was good, and he was sitting next to the person he was courting, and his... intended? Potential partner? Whatever the word for it was, Harry was clearly uncomfortable because of the potion withdrawal. There had to be a right answer, something true to himself and... and Harry thought that awful embarrassing story Da told about what Severus was like as a toddler was cute, didn't he? Severus pressed his lips closed, screwed up his courage, and sprayed a cloud of colorful flower petals over Harry.

"Wha-what?" Harry sputtered, looking down at his casual muggle clothes covered in a variety of mixed floral confetti. "Severus?"

"You looked miserable, listening to good music on the couch when you should be relaxed or even in bed if you feel ill," Severus scolded. "If my company is so awful you should have gone upstairs and let me read in peace."

"I... I'm not ill," Harry said, slumping against the back of the couch. "Just... I'm being stupid, I guess. It isn't your fault."

"Of course it isn't my fault," Severus said with more confidence than he felt. "So, what is wrong, then?"

"Er," Harry stalled, a blush warming his face as he babbled. "Well, with the potion out of my system I was... well, over-thinking things I guess. Um, it's just that it's been about nine months since, yeah. Maybe ten, actually, so it's on my mind. The attack was about a year ago, and I was a right mess in the beginning, but the problem with muscle atrophy that that potion helped treat didn't start until I'd been bedridden for a while, so you know. You can be pretty banged up and still take care of things when they, ah, come up."

"Congratulations on taking such a long time to say nothing at all that was even vaguely comprehensible without completely exhausting my patience," Severus drawled. "Are you sick, yes or no?"

"I'm not, I'm... anxious, I guess, about... you know," Harry said, looking down and away. Severus was about to make a sarcastic quip about having to pull things out of Harry one tiny crumb at a time when the penny dropped. Harry's potion made him impotent. For about ten months. Now he wasn't on it, and was sitting next to Severus on the couch instead of in the armchair like normal.

"Were you expecting me to want something?" Severus asked.

"No, of course not," Harry said, scooting away from Severus. "I mean, we aren't officially dating yet. You wanted a proper date at the cinema first, and that's what I'll give you. We can go as slow as you like, you know. We've... we've got all the time in the world, really."

"Oh," Severus said slowly, digesting the idea that Harry had given a good look at Severus' future and was in no hurry. That could be good news. "Would you want to do something?"

"That... that can't be how this works, you and me." Harry pointed at Severus and then himself. "It's too much on my side, see? At least right now, it's not right to be your boss and... and... and everything else. I'm not going to take advantage of all that leverage. I just won't do it."

"Even when you're nearly bursting?" Severus asked, reading something completely different in the tension in Harry's body. "You are, aren't you?" It wouldn't take much, with it being so long, would it? Did it build up or did the potion turn off the whole system? Severus hadn't put much thought into those sorts of medicinal potions before. They weren't in the curriculum until after O.W.L.s and he'd been more interested in more exciting things, like potions that transformed the drinker or changed the properties of the things they were poured on. Could it build up even without something like that? Severus hadn't really had any reason to go without...

"I won't do it. I won't touch you when you've not told me I can," Harry said decisively to the coffee table, and Severus thought he could put more faith in that plain statement than a magical vow from most people.

"What if I want to touch you a little?" Severus asked, blushing a little. Harry's eyes snapped up to meet his, and Severus scooted closer as he watched the pupils blow wide.

"Um, yes? Yes." Severus put his left hand on Harry's thigh and felt it jump. He scooted even closer, until their legs touched. Harry shivered. This was... fun, empowering.

"Maybe we could just kiss a bit," Severus couldn't say it without blushing brighter. "That's not too much, right?"

"I'd like that," Harry said, but stayed right where he was. Severus stood up, hugging himself to try and contain his own nerves, and Harry just watched. Merlin, but Severus could probably walk away, and Harry wouldn't chase him down to take what Severus had offered. Severus swallowed and climbed into Harry's lap. "Oh, okay," Harry said, shivering beneath Severus as he tried to get properly in place without elbowing Harry or smushing anything sensitive.

"I've never kissed anyone. Besides my Ma, I mean," spilled out of Severus.

"I have, but it was shite."

"You told me about that already." Severus tilted his head to look carefully at his target, and then Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward so Severus did the same.

It was... soft, and warm, and the tingle that ran through him felt wonderful even if his nose got in the way and they had to adjust a bit. They backed off and met again, and this time Harry licked his bottom lip, which was a great idea, and it got warmer and more interesting from there. After a little bit, and the addition of a hand in each other's hair, Harry made a high-pitched noise, and shook, and then Severus realized he'd taken care of the problem. He stood up and saw that Harry had done a bit of accidental magic as well, with the shadows crowding unnaturally close and a bit of what might be snow floating in the air around him. Harry looked happy and relaxed, and a bit goofy with such a silly grin on his face. Thank the stars he only wore glasses when his contacts were being washed, or the family resemblance would be a bit too much for how shaky Severus felt all the sudden.

"That's much better," Severus declared, and then excused himself up to his room because he was panicking inside and hated himself because he'd just gotten his boyfriend off and shouldn't he be happy? This was what he'd wanted to happen when he offered to touch Harry, wasn't it? Why was he freaking out and hiding under the quilt in his bed instead of letting... shouldn't he want to... Fuck, he was so useless!

It wasn't until the next morning that his own prick wanted a go, and he nearly decided not to take care of that out of spite against himself. Harry asked through the door if he was alright before he went to bed, but didn't come in even though Severus had just got him off. Most guys would consider that more than permission to come in, but Harry was better than his word. At breakfast he told Severus that yes last night didn't mean yes today, and nothing would be any different while they were at work. It was more comfort than he wanted to admit, and that made no sense because he wanted to fool around. Why was he so jittery about something he wanted so much?

Everything was normal on Saturday, if a somewhat strained sort of normal. At work Mr. McKinnon was working with Harry throughout the day, and while Harry was moving a little slower than usual he seemed to be working through the expected lethargy with little trouble.

There was no big to-do about Harry's sixteenth birthday. The staff pooled together to pay the employee price for a small cake and everyone wrote on it with icing, but Harry yawned big enough that if anyone had planned to stay late to do something they thought better of it. They all knew that he'd had some medical something or other done on Thursday after closing, even if Severus thought he was the only one there who knew all the specifics. Some get well cards were mixed in the birthday wishes.

After work, Harry sat in the armchair to doze, the effort he'd put in to make it through all those hours of work catching up to him. Severus took a walk to the library to change out the books they were done with and select some new ones, and he tried to look for something that might help with his own issues. There wasn't anything at all about two wizards having sex, though he had a look through a book titled "Anatomy and Sexuality for the Teenager" which was really about health, cleanliness, and how babies grew, but nothing about the mechanics of how to get to that point in the first place let alone anything alternative. Dinner was stew made from leftovers and a slice of cake. Severus grabbed Harry's elbow just before they turned in for the night, and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight," Severus said.

"Goodnight, Severus," Harry said, looking quite happy in the dark hallway. With no windows, only a single charmed fairy light that marked the top of the stairs and another that marked the bathroom door cut through the gloom. It made the way Harry's aura effected the world around him all the more obvious, as Severus could practically feel the shadows swirling around him like feathers and mist.

Sunday was more of the same, though now Harry seemed happier and more like his usual self. Mr. McKinnon was everywhere, but in a productive and helpful way rather than just being in the way. Harry told everyone that the schedule for when he or Mr. McKinnon were on duty would start going up week after next as they were closing up. Severus took the train home, and he wasn't sure how he made it through Monday, and then he took the midday train back on Tuesday for their date.

Chapter Text

Sweat rolled down his back, but Harry kept at it. This was one thing he always knew he'd earned. There were no shortcuts for fitness. No magical talent, no potion or spell, no fame or power could grant real, lasting improvements in his physical strength and stamina beyond a baseline of nutrition and intact, functional parts. There was a time that the only thing he knew for certain he was good at was quidditch, and he'd run an extra lap around the pitch or load his plate with protein and vegetables as Oliver Wood suggested to ensure he was at his peak. Waking up as early as he did before work these days, he couldn't make himself do the routine he liked to do before breakfast when he was in Hogwarts or an Auror. He rolled out of bed, shoved some tea and toast in his belly as quick as a flash, and went right to work. He did the stretches in his office during his first break and did the rest of his daily workout in his room or the kitchen just before an evening shower. Given how dirty he got working in the bakery, taking his daily shower in the morning would mean his sheets would start growing sourdough starter by laundry day. The water bill was high enough without taking two, so he had to shift his workout and bathing habits to the evening anyway. The ward chimed once, someone knocking on the door to the bakery no doubt, but it didn't repeat so they probably read the sign saying they were closed.

With the bakery closed on Tuesdays he could really test his body and work on getting back into the shape he had been before Death brought him back in time. Sure, he had chores, and all his early rising the rest of the week meant he was up before dawn getting that all started, but this was important to make time for. Once upon a time that had been undone, he'd manhandled grown men, outran and overpowered murderers, and generally kicked ass in a very literal way. It would take years and growing back to his adult height before he had the power he expected behind his punches again, but he hadn't been a wimpy kid who could only run away since first year. It was hard work to get back to his old standards after being pitched back in time and into the dubious care of hospital staff convinced he was a raving lunatic, but Harry had always had to work hard for what he wanted out of life.

He'd made the punching bag by multiplying sand into an expanded leather lipstick case he found at a thrift shop, then added some padded sticks he could hit or duck. Suspended from the ceiling with a chain from a magically reinforced hook designed to hold up a houseplant, the swinging and spinning bag provided a great target so he could practice what he knew about muggle means of defense. There was something deeply satisfying in getting up close to some violent asshole, disarming them with a spell while dodging curses or empty bottles, and then throwing the drunk, violent, or disturbed individual on the floor. Sometimes it was the only safe option, what with potion interactions and altered states to consider.

Severus would be here in the evening for their date, so Harry had set up the punching bag right after lunch and started working so he could be done and have a nice shower before they went out. He'd ruined their first snogging session by going off early like a poorly made firecracker. Severus had been right, he had assumed that the other boy would want something from him as soon as he was able to provide it. He had thought the only reason Severus was waiting was because Harry physically couldn't, and then Severus had jumped in his lap the moment Harry signaled that things were working normally again so he thought he'd been right, but then Severus ran off to hide after and gave Harry only the most chaste affection until he went home. Harry beat his frustrations into the bag of sand until the undershirt and joggers he wore were soaked in sweat, his muscles burned with effort, and his heart pumped hard in his chest.

He'd taken the edge off his teenaged body's needs when he woke, jogged to the launderette and back, and now he'd get an intense workout in for his upper body in. He had to show Severus tonight that this wasn't just physical, so he'd wear himself out a bit before their relaxing night on the town. Lots of teenaged relationships fell off and from what he'd seen it was all about how much it was just snogging and how much was a real connection, so he had to strike the balance right from the off or Severus might see it as just a convenience or summer fling.

He lifted his knee in a dirty move that sent the bag spinning the other way, and let out a grunt of effort as he blocked with his right and struck with his left when the lower stick came around the other side. The bag reversed again and Harry ducked under the upper stick, striking out low and sending the whole thing swinging in a way the spinning bars he modeled this setup after never did. It probably wasn't as safe for it to move so wildly, but he'd balked at the cost of a real one and didn't know how to make anything better. He shifted around it a bit, attacking from slightly different angles to keep it under control so nothing scraped the wall. Even with the minimal furniture he owned, there was only so much space between the fireplace and the dining table. Footwork was important in a duel, and he was careful to keep his center as he shifted. Another series of hits and he ducked again, coming up with a kick and minding his breathing because in a real fight he might have to use that breath to cast.

"Holy shi-omething," a shocked and unexpected voice cut through the kitchen and Harry spun away from the hanging bag, drawing his wand from the holster strapped to his left arm reflexively.

"The fuck?" Harry squawked, lowering his right arm as he looked over his house guests. James Potter, Sirius Black, and two people who could only be Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were all crowded behind a wide-eyed Severus Snape by the kitchen cabinets. If they were alone Harry was certain Severus would have jumped on him again, he was looking at Harry like he was a Sunday roast. "How are you all in my house?"

"Snape had the key," James said. He'd been the one to speak first. Severus blinked at Harry, his brain clearly not with them for the moment as all his blood was otherwise occupied. Sirius looked rather dazed as well, though more out of worry than admiration.

"Sorry for startling you during your... exercise," Fleamont Potter said, stepping forward. "We had knocked on the door at the base of the metal stairway and were waiting some time when Mr. Snape appeared to show us to the correct door."

"We're closed on Tuesdays, so I ignored it when the wards only chimed once. I figured whoever it was left after reading the sign," Harry said, feeling supremely self-conscious and under-dressed in the second-hand vest and joggers he'd purchased because they were the cheapest clothes in his size at the charity shop. The Potters and Sirius were all in rather posh robes, and Severus was wearing a grayish paisley shirt that showed off his collar bones over some beat-up jeans. "I didn't expect Severus until later." Severus shook like he was fighting off a confundus before he answered.

"There's chores and all that need done before, and I forgot one of the library books that has to go back or I'll get a fine when I went out Saturday. If I took the next train, we wouldn't have time for everything." Severus waved at the collection of unwanted guests, taking the bag off his shoulder to hold in front of himself. A bit late, if he was trying to hide anything from Harry. Maybe he'd noticed Harry noticing. "They were in the alley, and when I came around the bend Potter saw me the same time I saw them. They said they wanted to talk to you about family business, and wouldn't back off when I said I'd fetch you. Seems they don't think I belong here, even though I have a key."

"There is no cause to stretch truth," Mrs. Potter said. Her gray hair was pinned up in a braid that mimicked a crown, with a red feathered fascinator instead of a regular pointed hat. "James said you were unlikely to assist us, and given your reaction I think that is fair to say, and we certainly didn't expect to meet you here today when we came to visit family."

"I let you in, didn't I?" Severus said, trying to put some distance between them without getting too far from the door.

"How about you four settle at the table while Severus and I go upstairs. I'm hardly dressed for company, and he's got his bag to put away," Harry said, then turned his wand on the punching bag. A series of spells he could easily cast as a half- mumbled chain of spells - Reducio, Scourgefy, Aridis, Wingardium Leviosa - and the bag was shrunken, washed, dried, and put away on top of the cupboard next to the biscuit jar. Another couple swishes and the teapot was full and set on the stove to heat up. "Won't be a moment."

"You shouldn't do that without your parents home," Fleamont scolded.

"I see that not listening to things you don't want to hear is a family trait James gets from both sides, as I'm sure you couldn't be here without speaking to Charlus and ignoring half of what he told you." The elder Potters frowned, and James opened his mouth to speak, but Harry hit him with a temporary silencing hex without pausing his explanation. "I am a fully emancipated orphan, sir. I have wand rights and an apperation license, earned through hard work, though I understand why you might assume otherwise if James is your primary source of information. To that end, know that we've never spoken, and I only know him from acting as medical assistance for the victim after he and his friends decided to torture someone for fun," Harry said. As he was passing the group he hissed through his teeth. "The actual fuck, Severus." He grabbed Severus' arm and steered them through the sitting room and upstairs.

"Potter talked over me, Black kept crowding me so I fled up the stair, and then they just followed me in," Severus hissed back as they went up to the second floor.

"Which Potter?"

"James," Severus clarified. Harry flicked on the overhead hall light and looked at Severus. With the Potters here and the legal mess they had going between them, in his shoes Harry would hate for someone to swoop in and try to handle any of it without his say so. He'd hated the whole business with the trial and the dementor, and how helpless he'd felt throughout. Severus wasn't as alone and out to sea as Harry had been when he was trapped in Surrey, at least Harry didn't think he was. Still, Harry had been in tough spots like this, and there was something he'd wanted that nobody had ever said aloud, even if Ron and Hermione had clearly meant it with their actions. Something he'd needed someone with the power to actually effect the outcome had bothered to say and mean, during any of the nonsense he'd had to live through.

"I've got your back, Severus, however this goes. If you don't want me getting involved with what is between you and Potter, then I won't, but if you want me to back you up, I'll help what I can."

"Alright," Severus said hesitantly. He was almost hugging himself and seemed reluctant to look Harry in the eye.

"I mean it, I'll back off if you don't want me in your business," Harry said. "Or you can stay up here, and I won't let them change the subject to be about you in the first place." Severus looked up at him, those dark eyes absorbing Harry's earnest expression without any reflection.

"Can I think about it?" Severus asked.

"Change your mind any time. For now, I am going to take the world's shortest shower so I don't stink of sweat for the rest of the day. If you go back down, please don't start or let them start anything until I'm dressed, if at all possible." Harry fit words to action, glad he'd already picked out his best muggle clothes for his date and hung them up in the bathroom. Water, soap, water, and then a drying charm that always left his hair too frizzy, but he didn't have time for better.

He went downstairs in bell-bottom jeans and a blue pinstripe dress shirt to find Severus in the armchair hiding behind a thick book. Sirius Black was lounging on the couch, and Harry didn't think for a second that he'd been waiting patiently. Hermes was expressing annoyance in a steady hum just below a non-parselmouth's range of hearing from somewhere nearby.

"Your name is Black, right?" Harry asked, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Every instinct said it was the only thing he could do without compromising his own morals. At the sound of Harry's voice, Hermes started hissing about his intended mate being stoic through pain and Harry's spine straightened further. Sirius rolled easily onto his feet and smiled, taller than Harry as he always had been and always will be. The Potters came into the sitting room as they spoke.

"Sirius Black, nice to meet you properly," the blue-eyed boy said with a little bow.

"I don't want you here."

"Excuse me," Sirius said, "why?"

"Because your cousin murdered most of my family and I don't see how you are on track to be any better. I'm glad Severus had the good sense not to serve any of you tea. Out. Now."

"Sirius is staying with our family for the summer," Fleamont Potter said.

"And you knew better than to leave him in your home unsupervised, but not enough to keep an eye on him while he is in mine."

"I was just laying here," Sirius said.

"I banned Bellatrix, and the only reason I didn't throw Narcissa Black out when the three sisters arrived for high tea was because she was wearing a tiara that read 'bride to be' and being polite to Mrs. Tonks, who is a lovely person. If your parents tried to book a tea service downstairs my staff knows to tell them we're unavailable through to the end of time. To be abundantly clear: Get out of my house until you learn to act like someone who won't become the lapdog of a psychopath just like your murderess cousin in two years."

"I'm not a Death Eater. He's filled your head with lies. Snape is the one hanging out with those assholes and practicing the Dark Arts," Sirius argued.

"Boys, we should remain civil," Fleamont said, stepping further into the room. Harry addressed the old man.

"I saw Bellatrix attacking my sister, not that my word is enough to get her locked up. My familiar informs me that Black has been peppering Severus with stinging hexes while you weren't supervising him. I have no problem casting Priori on his wand again. The last time was quite illuminating."

"That's ridiculous. I was just on the couch," Sirius exclaimed, arms wide.

"Hermes," Harry said, a clear command in his voice. The little snake spilled out from behind the couch cushion. "Weren't you being crushed?"

"There is space between where I fit, and it is fluffy so I am not harmed," Hermes said, appraising the crowd. "They are all quite scared and upset now. How silly of them."

"If they weren't being so rude we would have no reason to make them smell upset," Harry said, very deliberately in English. Hermes would understand his tone of voice. "So you see, Mr. Potter, Severus is acting like a civilized human being despite Black acting like he enjoys torturing people he considers lesser than him. As I understand it, that is what the self-styled Dark Lord who likes to kill half-bloods like Snape and myself is looking for in his slaves."

"Sirius, we are guests in his home, I would expect better behavior from you," Euphemia Potter scolded, but there was no real strength behind the sing-song tone. Harry could see how James and Sirius were able to bully their way in despite the older Potters being there - or perhaps because of their presence since Severus might have banged on the Bakery wards enough to alert Harry or just hauled off and hexed them once close enough to the flat his trace wouldn't flag it if he wasn't trying to act like the bigger man in front of the adults. Severus did know exactly which step on the metal stairway was his limit and had expressed some rather heavy disdain for law enforcement generally in some of their chats. At least on the subjects of dark magic studies being necessary and the way the scales were tilted to favor the most privileged among the upper classes, Harry couldn't argue the point much.

"They're both dark wizards," James Potter said, pointing at Harry and Severus.

"Hermes is being trained as a medical familiar," Harry countered, "and parselmagic has a strong affinity to healing spells, some of the best healers in India are parselmouths, and I'd be lucky to go study under them one day. Like many things it can be misused. Unless you mean politically dark instead of magic cast with ill intent, in which case that is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard."

"Perhaps you boys should wait in the kitchen while I speak with Mr. Peverell?" Fleamont Potter suggested. Sirius and James went with Euphemia into the kitchen, and Severus moved to the bench seat under the stairs. Harry fixed tea for himself and the two elder Potters, utterly ignoring his father and godfather in an act of supreme willpower. Severus made no move to indicate he wanted some, staring at his book without moving his eyes or turning the page. Harry settled into his armchair and Fleamont settled on the couch with their cups. The old man opened with, "I am sorry for how this visit began."

"I'm a bit of a seer, and not much of an idiot, so let me guess: The idea to come today in a hurry without sending an owl or anything ahead was mainly fueled by James and Sirius?" Harry said, holding a hand down so Hermes could climb him.

"Well, we had started discussing a meeting with you, and James knew that the Bakery was closed today. Euphemia mentioned your birthday would be sometime soon, and it went from there. Since you are a child, we didn't see the harm in dropping in on a whim. I regret the miscommunication about your parents, I had been told you were adopted," Mr. Potter said gently. He was as handsome as his son, with square shoulders rounded by age and a square jaw emphasized by his gold-rimmed square glasses.

"I was. My parents died, we think to Greyback, when I was very small. I was raised by my aunt for a time, but she was a squib married to a muggle and couldn't handle my accidental magic in a sensible way. A neighbor noticed how dire things got and had me removed for fear I would become an obscurous if left in her care. Last summer the family who took me in was taken from me with the rest of the enclave, and I was able to become legally emancipated after passing the mediwizard exam with full marks. While I didn't get my O.W.L. results early, the preliminary assessment and my emancipation granted me the right to test for an apparition license," Harry said, keeping his tone even.

"That is quite the accomplishment at your age. There isn't anyone else living here?" Mr. Potter asked.

"I am the sole survivor of the attack on my village, and I have one cousin aside from your family still alive, but we aren't in contact. Severus rents a bunk, since he doesn't live in the city and his shifts at work start before the early train would get him here. With my situation, I've made sure even that has all the paperwork and taxes done properly for that since it's regular, while the other guys only crash here as needed. I get check-ins every so often from aurors, less frequently now that I've proved I can feed and house myself without squandering the modest amount I inherited. Never did get any insurance payments for my loss, but that's the danger when you have secrecy spells that strong and our government doesn't provide much more than medical care for people in my situation. I'm not sure it isn't a problem that he technically lives here and you've shown up. The legal situation is his business, obviously, but I've been informed of basics like when he had appointments with a solicitor as his roommate," Harry hedged.

"Well, I came to discuss other matters, but if Mr. Snape has anything to say about the money?" Fleamont trailed off, turning to look at where Severus was seated.

"The solicitor took a cut off the top as his fee when it was cashed, and I used the rest to open an account, so I don't have any of it on me," Severus said. Harry had to shift the armchair so he could see him, since usually the bench seat was directly behind the chair. He didn't want the kitchen door at his back, which meant his back was to the outside door instead, but he would deal with that uneasiness since he wouldn't make Severus move. "I couldn't pay it all back if I wanted to, and the contract your son tried to make me sign is a pretty clear admission of guilt, so..."

"Slimy asshole."

"James, language," Euphemia chided.

"We aren't asking for the money back," Fleamont said quickly. "James chose to send it to you, and so now he has to deal with the consequences of what he's done."

"What kind of consequences, beyond a chunk of his spending money not being replenished?" Harry asked.

"I've spoken to him about the errors in the contract..."

"So he can do it properly next time he wants to - to -" Severus seemed stuck unable to say the rest.

"Commit sexual assault," Harry suggested.

"Peverell is the only one that calls it that," Sirius complained loudly. The flat was nice but with no door between the two rooms there wasn't any real privacy. It made Harry wonder what they must have assumed from the sounds that had them rushing into the kitchen when they came in.

"You tried that spell on me to make me," Severus shouted back, he dropped his book as he pressed himself further into the corner as he sputtered out, "make me erect the time you stripped me off before exams started. Why would it have gone any different that time if Peverell hadn't shown up to stop it?"

"This wasn't a single instance of them going too far?" Fleamont asked, sounding puzzled. Severus looked like a cornered animal, so Harry took Fleamont's attention.

"According to everyone I talked to," Harry said, "including students in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, those four Gryffindor boys are a dangerous gang of thugs who play mean spirited and dangerous pranks and viciously attack people who annoy them. They are to be avoided if possible, and the teachers give them a pass for a lot of smaller things that would get other students in trouble because of their excellent grades. Even with that free pass, they serve detention at least once a month each, though it is unclear if that includes Lupin being scarce every four weeks due to his medical condition."

"Oh, Merlin, you do know," Severus murmured, covering his face. 

"I'm only as good at keeping secrets as I care to be, and as a medic and a seer I notice a lot," there was a scuffle in the kitchen, and then Sirius and James were in the doorway being gently and ineffectively scolded. "For example: Regulus Black won't live to see his nineteenth birthday now that Walburga Black doesn't have a stronger target for her advancing mental instability, but he may die heroically despite her poisons. Now, I got a good look at the broken body of one of my elder brothers after he fought and died to protect us from the Black family's kind of crazy, so maybe I'm a bit biased, but my point should be clear. When I say that I want Sirius Black out of my house because he's a selfish fool who needs to sort out his priorities, and that I don't trust him not to set my flat on fire even with himself inside, I am not just talking about the things Sirius has done to Severus. All four of them are vicious, selfish, careless, and entitled to some degree. If none of them end up in prison in the next five years it will be a miracle. If they don't get Remus Lupin executed it will only because the Headmaster used his power to stop it, possibly his power as Chief Warlock rather than any power he has in the school."

"You're blackmailing us," Sirius said, stepping forward while James stepped back into the kitchen to placate his mother.

"I encourage the adults in the room to consider what sort of thing could be used as blackmail in this situation given what I just said. As for you two, if you really want me to do this, then let's do this, Black. The bravery it took to leave an abusive home is commendable," that had everyone too shocked to interrupt, "but that doesn't make up for your other actions. You two need to sort out your mess and grow up. I have had to overcome enough impulse control issues in myself, thanks. As for the other thing, I knew within thirty seconds of seeing his scars, and there are only so many reasons you and your friends would be so cavalier about the whole thing. Rather lowers how much bravery it takes to pull someone out of the fire you set while you are completely immune to the possible consequences, and from your reaction I am certain I'm right. Which means what you did is illegal, in a way that could have rippling consequences well beyond your intentions, and while I don't like using what I am and what I know for blackmail I do like seeing jackasses who hurt people get what they have coming." Harry said with steel in his voice. "Nothing personal, it's just that poorly trained dogs tend to piss on the carpet."

"I am not -"

"Siri, don't," James said, grabbing his friend. Sirius almost spun off his feet to look at James. "Just let it go for now. This isn't why we're here."

"Right, sure," Sirius said, but the ugly look he sent to Severus made it clear who he blamed and that retribution was coming. Harry hadn't taken his eyes off Sirius.

"Eighteenth of June, 1996," Harry said, all the grief from his godfather's death rising up in his mind, still sharp.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"I'm a Peverell seer, what do you think I mean when I tell someone a date?" Harry shouted, his voice thick with emotion. "If you don't do better, you have until June of '96. On the outside, by the way, and James goes in '81. Enough time for you to regret acting like you are untouchable, but what of those you aren't there for? The ones left behind in the ashes. You've escaped your mother's insanity and your father's negligence, good for you, now do something with it other than piss into the wind." A hand pulled on Harry's shoulder, and then he was looking at Severus' dark eyes. Severus frowned, peering at Harry with an intensity that pushed against Harry's occlumency.

"You are thinking of someone else," Severus said firmly.

"They abandoned me, when he could have taken me in, and I was left in that hell for years because they couldn't be bothered to speak up," Harry said, and entirely too much was leaking out from his mental shielding, which was rapidly falling apart. "Please stop that."

"I thought it would help," Severus said, looking away.

"It didn't," Harry said, shaking it off. "Just makes it harder to separate the similarities."

"Sirius reminds you of someone who failed you," Fleamont Potter said. "I assume he is dead."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm not right, and it doesn't change their dates," Harry said.

"James will die in nineteen eighty-one?" Euphemia asked. "You are sure?"

"As sure as I can be. No seer can speak unchangeable futures sensibly," Harry reminded them. "Basic rule of magic. If you think you understand something a seer says, know you can alter it if you try hard enough, but on the other hand fate hates being thwarted and everybody dies so watch out for the part you didn't understand."

"We came here because our family is small, to wish you well for your sixteenth birthday," Fleamont said.

"Harry's birthday was three days ago," Severus corrected.

"Thanks, but I had plans for later today," Harry added on.

"Should I go to the library and return that?" Severus asked, pointing at his book.

"If you want to, and I have an order for pickup at Moore's that should be ready," Harry replied.

"Sending me to an apothecary with authority over your account?" Severus said with a smirk.

"I trust you; the slip should be on my dresser," Harry replied. "We have to leave by six-fifteen to get where we're going, earlier if we're going to eat out, so get done what you need to as long as you are back by then." Severus nodded and retreated upstairs.

"You're going out somewhere with Snape?" James asked. Harry looked back at them and Sirius looked shaken, though he was trying to play it off by turning away from the adults and staring at the record player. Harry gave his not-father an expectant look.

"Is that supposed to imply something?" He heard Severus come down the stairs behind him.

"Why go somewhere with Snape? Just because he lives here doesn't mean you have to drag him along for your birthday celebrations," Sirius added.

"We're not just going somewhere, we're going out together," Severus grumbled. Harry smiled bright and turned to look at him.

"Be safe, darling," Harry teased.

"Don't be ridiculous about this," Severus complained through a light blush, and when he darted out the door there was a new daisy on the bottom stair. Adorable.

"Ah, the two of you are quite close," Fleamont said cautiously.

"Maybe, if I'm lucky. James and Sirius might not like him, and he's awful when he's scared and upset, but he's a different person when he's happy. Besides, Severus is a brilliant artist and inventor. He has plenty to recommend him."

"But he likes Evans," James said, looking around as if confused by the very idea.

"I thought so too, but I had it backwards. She liked him, and that's in past tense anyway," Harry said with a shrug. He continued more diplomatically. "I had dinner at the Evans' a while back. I've had a few conversations with her father about the political situation and got to know him rather well, and Lily has been fighting with Severus over some kind of miscommunication for quite a while now. I think his offer to step up and date another girl to keep her safe got her feathers ruffled. Although, I don't think that's what first started the argument."

"Oh, my," Euphemia said, settling next to her husband. "Did something happen that this other girl needed that kind of protection?"

"The Gryffindor boys have their targets, based on who they think deserves to be treated like rubbish, and at least Pettigrew was looking up girls' skirts, but there is also at least one other guy at school who was doing far more than that to one girl in particular. She did nothing wrong, she's just a slight and gentle girl who was easily overpowered. Her, uh... monthly bill came late, and she was so confounded she couldn't quite tell the nurse what had happened so it had everyone worried for her. Her parents brought Severus out for lunch at the bakery as part of getting to know him just in case, which was how I realized he lived close enough I offered him a job, and that's how we got where we are. I'm not for the girls at all, while Severus plays both sides, and she was glad to have the offer. As I understand it she fell ill, and the problem sorted itself without any drastic action. People like me tend to marry some woman who needs help, and make it work with a kid to carry on the name and all, but for right now I'm glad I don't have to share him," Harry said as casually as he could.

"A noble mindset," Fleamont acknowledged with a nod. "I knew a pair of men, schoolmates of mine, who built houses right next to each other in a little town on the southern coast. They had a tall fence that enclosed both gardens as one space. They married a pair of ladies of similar inclinations in a joint ceremony where nearly everyone knew the vows went four ways between them, and they were all quite happy with the arrangement."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry said automatically.

"It was before James was born, in the First Great War, but thank you nonetheless. Don't take this the wrong way, but grief is part of why we came today. You do seem to be doing well. I'd gotten the impression from Charlus that you might be a bit buried in your work and wouldn't have much time for your grief," Fleamont said gently. "If you have been out visiting and making friends that is excellent news, though I have to wonder if you have plans to continue your education."

"I'll be joining the sixth-year class at Hogwarts, and there is an investor in the business who is already taking over some of the day to day management. I'll retain majority ownership, but this is my first week with two days off since before we opened and we're overlapping as he settles in," Harry explained, glad to be on an easier topic. "Even when I was studying for my O.W.L.s, I was planning the business on the weekends. I'm sure I'll remain involved even while at school."

"It is a lot of hard work," Fleamont said thoughtfully.

"Yes, but on Hogsmeade weekends adult or emancipated students are not required to remain in the village. I can go in person one or two times a month, keep an eye on the finances through weekly reports, and an owl can get to me in a day for emergencies. Realistically Benny can run the kitchen just fine and McKinnon should have the customer service side taken care of without me shortly," Harry said with a shrug.

"Well, you do seem to have it all figured out. You know, I was a bit of an inventor in my youth," Fleamont said proudly.

"Oh? What sort of things did you invent?" Harry asked. In the background James muttered 'not the story again' and Sirius replied, 'You knew it was gonna happen, mate.'

The next hour was rather pleasant. Harry knew a fair bit about his grandparents from Fleamont's journals, but it was quite different to hear the stories directly. James moaned about Harry being a suck-up because nobody could be so interested, but it came off as lighthearted teasing. James and Sirius were a bit over the line with their dick jokes, but they only made them when Euphemia went upstairs to use the facilities and were more about why they preferred birds to broomsticks than anything too personal. The lack of any strong bias against homosexuality in the magical world (provided you were still willing to raise a kid to carry on the name and family magic) meant it was less awkward than talking to the Evanses, who didn't approve at all but were the sort of polite where they didn't care as long as it didn't involve or affect them. How Petunia became such an incurable gossip hyper-focused on what all the neighbors thought when Mr. Evans had all but said 'you aren't my sons so I don't give a damn' Harry couldn't understand. There were some tangents about quidditch. When Harry mentioned he was a fairly good seeker before he was hospitalized but hadn't had the chance to replace his broom, he was given am open invitation to visit the Potter home and fly on their pitch with James and Sirius. Harry just barely managed not to overreact, and changed the subject back to Fleamont's potion experiments.

Mr. Potter was explaining some complicated alchemical interactions that could only be safely done in an airless vessel when Severus came home. Harry got up to help put away the bags, but was swatted away when he tried to take one with the local sweet shop's logo on it. Harry tried to pick up the thread of conversation before it was lost, it was the sort of thing he was certain Severus would like to talk about too, but James and Sirius complained they wanted to go flying before it got too late and so the four uninvited guests saw themselves out. Harry set down the apothecary bag Severus shoved at him and cast a few detection spells around just in case.

"Were you checking out the competition?" Harry called out as he went to restock the bathroom with his ordered items. He didn't get an immediate answer.

Most apothecaries were a bit like a magical Boots, but Moore's had a larger than usual off the shelf home supply section and a specialization in personal care and cosmetic potions. While Harry did in fact use Sleekeasy's in the future, there was a cheaper oil the man running the shop suggested he put on his combs and brushes. It kept his curls and waves bouncy instead of trying to straighten them out, but the real magic was that a drop or two a day ensured his hair didn't snarl into a rat's nest by noon. While in hospital, a nurse explained to him that it was normal for wavy hair to get curlier during puberty for some people and he should try to work with it instead of against it. Encouraging his curly hair to curl neatly was a lot more effective than trying to force his hair into the tidy, ironed flat perfection Aunt Petunia wanted and that Harry had always been jealous of Draco Malfoy for having. He had even asked for a hair growth spell last time he went to get his fraying mop trimmed so it wouldn't look any shorter when he left. He liked how he looked so much now that he figured out how to care for it properly, and the longer curls covered the scar on his head a lot better than trying to flatten the hair down ever could have.

Moore's was also where he got his deodorant, soap, lotion, bathroom cleaner, floor polish, and all those sundries that tended to get forgotten until they are needed. The done thing was to place an order and come back when the shop told you to unless you wanted to pay extra for off- the- shelf convenience. Wizards just liked things bespoke, it seemed, and keeping track of a lot of ready-to-use stock for perishable brews was a hassle the potioneers didn't like to deal with. The ingredients to make the potions, bars, oils, infusions, and waxes almost always had a longer shelf life if stored properly than the end products anyway. The shops had enough to display at least one of everything, but he found that some of the display items were obviously older than Harry himself or even fake - and he wasn't sure if that was because it was the '70s or if it was because he wasn't shopping in London. It wasn't uncommon for him to see people collect a basket full of items, pay for them, schedule a pickup time, and then the shopkeeper would put the collected items all back on the shelves. In the 90's in August it had always been a little different. At least for Diagon Alley, since a mix of lovely summer weather and back to school shopping meant there was something of a blowout sale going on just about everywhere. Here in Birmingham there seemed to be a lot less muggle influence on the magical district than in London generally, and the high street in Hogsmeade always had a lot of grab and go goods for impatient young children.

Every potion maser he'd ever met was a proud, taciturn person certain that customers existed to harass them, though he'd been surprised at how few men were in the profession once he got out of school and started visiting different magical communities. It tended to be the husband who manned the till and dealt with customers while the wife was the brewer. As someone who currently had to deal with how entitled and empty-headed the general public could be about the time it took to make things, he had a feeling most of them were so standoffish because they had been asked for the impossible too many times to ever assume some fresh-faced auror like he had been wouldn't request the moon and sun bottled by noon tomorrow.

He wasn't sure what Severus used beyond the bottle of shampoo and travel-sized chip of bar soap Mr. Evans had sent Lily out to get as a diversion, though he suspected Severus just didn't use deodorant or hair products at all. Harry wasn't sure how he could bring that up, or if he should. Severus had shown up some Thursday nights trailing a rather intense odor. He hadn't today, but Harry had uncharitably wondered if Severus bathed at all at home. Even more uncharitably, he'd wondered if Mr. Tobias Snape had bathed in the last month when he'd gone to Spinner's End. The man was awful six ways, the smell of him ranking high enough on the list. While the house had that sharp quality to the air that came with recent cleaning charms, it had still been fragrant... and more in the way a packed nightclub at 2am was than the usual smells Harry associated with a house. They both washed every day after work, exchanging their soiled uniforms for something comfortable before supper, but Harry had to concede a point to his godfather's memory: when he was young, Severus Snape stunk. He hadn't smelled of anything other than potion fumes as an adult, not that Harry had ever noticed at least, but Harry wasn't sure if he should mention it in the here and now.

There were people who reacted badly to certain ones. The first time Dean tried a wizard-made formula his dark skin had gone ashy and he said it itched like mad. Neville had suggested it was a reaction to using too much eucalyptus oil, which had been a trendy thing at the time for guys to smell like. Neville and Seamus brought Harry and Dean along the next Hogsmeade weekend to explain how to order toiletries like a real wizard, with owl delivery since they were in school. Ron hadn't had enough money for that, his mother made enough of the basics for the whole crop of boys in the house for cheap, and presumably gave Ginny some of what she made for herself. Severus had grown up with even less than Ron had, and while they hadn't fought over money in any sense yet he figured it was only a matter of time.

It had been difficult for Harry to adapt his lifestyle to his current budget, which was solidly in the middle class instead of the filthy stinking rich he had been once he'd collected all of his inheritance, but not having people close to him the last year and living in hospital for so long helped him pare down his expectations. Harry liked fancy things, but even more than that he liked giving fancy gifts. The hand-made body soap he'd ordered, scented with just a hint of sandalwood, should be gentle even for sensitive skin. Most things in the wizarding world were handmade, and ideas like assembly lines and factory production were muggle nonsense that had never caught on. It wasn't really all that expensive, not even with the extra charge to have the image of a white clematis pressed into the top of the sandy colored bar.

The flower meant 'mental beauty,' which was the perfect flower for someone like Severus. Not only would crafting a complement about his physical appearance be akin to a stroll through mine field due to the teasing he knew Severus had dealt with, it would be beyond stupid to try and thread that needle at all given Severus' personality. For all that Harry found him adorable in his mannerisms at times, Severus Snape still had a nose too big for his face, which was currently half covered in red and white spots instead of the rough scars they might leave behind. His teeth were crooked, though not as yellow and broken looking as in Harry's memory. He was thin enough Harry was sure his ribs would be easily counted if he was ever without a shirt, which combined with his narrow bone structure made him so twiggy anyone with an ounce of nurturing instinct would want to feed him. Harry happened to like that body type, all stringy and firm, and while he'd never seen Professor Snape less than conservatively dressed - there was one fuzzy memory of him in a nightshirt he thought he must have dreamed up - he did remember how the man could run like the wind.

Severus was also short, maybe only an inch over five foot, and his posture made him seem even smaller. Headmaster Snape was about dead average height for a white British man, perhaps five seven, but when he wasn't commanding a classroom he'd curl himself into a posture that shrunk him down the same way his younger self did. Harry had eventually made it to a respectably tall five feet nine and three quarters inches (he quite liked the fraction, even though it felt childish,) but for the moment he was about five foot and six. Sirius had towered over both of them, already much closer to his adult height the same way Ron had sprung up like a weed nearly all at once before sixth year.

"Are you done?" Severus asked, startling Harry. He'd been standing in the bathroom with the door open staring at the wall like a loon.

"Oh, yeah, I just... this was for you," Harry said, offering the bar of soap. Severus snatched it out of Harry's hand, but he seemed to freeze when he caught sight of the flower on it.

"You got me soap," Severus said, his voice a careful monotone. Harry hoped he hadn't insulted him.

"Fancy toiletries are a fairly common courting gift," Harry said, moronically. Some of the tension left Severus' shoulders.

"I meant, what kind?" Severus asked.

"Just regular body soap, almost the same as mine. I wasn't sure what scent you would like, so I asked for half-strength sandalwood, and then a white clematis on top. I know your other things were floral and pink, but it was Evans who got those for you, and she was still a bit cross at you when she bought them, so..." Harry shut up before he accidentally implied he was worried his mum would steal his boyfriend, or something equally idiotic.

"Yours smells like thyme and a whole bunch of things, like a pine forest," Severus said, examining the soap with much more scrutiny than Harry thought was necessary.

"It has eucalyptus oil and pine, and both those can irritate skin for some people. I didn't want to give you the gift of itchy everything. Just, this is a gentle soap. If you want something stronger when this one is done you can tell me what you prefer."

"I'm not dainty," Severus said firmly.

"I know, that doesn't mean I should be careless with you."  It didn't feel like he was just talking about soap anymore. Severus was quiet long enough Harry was starting to panic before Severus took mercy on him and quietly said.

"I'm not allergic to pine. Or anything else, at least as far as I know."

"Good to know." Harry rocked on his heels.

"A flower meaning beauty is a bit..."

"Mental beauty and ingenuity. Clematis is a delicate looking but a resilient plant that thrives even in poor soil, transforming an otherwise barren space into something beautiful," Harry vomited out the relevant research he'd done into flowers and their meaning over the last couple weeks. "It does need bright sunlight to flourish, and tend to be purple, but can be white." Severus was blushing brightly.

"Thank you," Severus said. Harry wished he'd led with that.

"You're welcome. We should pack up and go."

"Pack?" Severus asked.

"Did you see what they are charging for popcorn? It's robbery!" Harry said, stepping around Severus to head down the stairs. "I figure we line our pockets with wax paper and hit the chippy before we go to the theater, a double order of chips is more food for about what the popcorn would be, and we can get fish for just a bit more. Whatever we don't finish eating before we get there we'll sneak in. I'll buy you whatever drink you want at the counter. I didn't read the whole menu; most of the actual food there is only available on the weekends when they have live shows, and the drinks section was huge. I think they do shakes or mix sodas or something."

Harry couldn't breathe for laughing. Monty Python was officially his favorite thing ever, not that he was sure how he'd get to see more of them since he didn't have anyone like Luna in his life in the '70s that would invite him over to watch telly. They sat together in some great middle seats near the back, smuggled chips in their pockets and an overpriced coke for each of them. It turned out the small theater that set itself up as a cinema on weekdays had an alcohol license and with their pathetic sixteen-year-old facial hair shaved clean off they had no chance of ordering anything more interesting than a glass bottle of soda, but it was fine. Severus had laughed through the movie, as had Harry, and the other people in the theater had been just as loud so nobody cared. Pretty much everyone there had already seen it twice, at least from what Harry overheard as they waited for the doors to open.

From the subtitles and shenanigans during the opening credits the movie was hilarious, and it carried on to be the single funniest thing he'd ever seen right up through the entire cast being arrested by the police at the end. There was a moment in the middle where he wished he could tell the twins about this, but Severus grabbed him and tried to explain the joke he thought Harry missed between uncontrollable snickers and the moment of melancholy was gone. There were some thoughtful bits of social commentary here and there, but the slapstick and the bad special effects - and the coconuts, for fucks sake the coconuts - all compounded into such a perfect storm of hilarity Harry couldn't help but be swept away by it.

"'Tis but a scratch," Severus said as they walked down the sidewalk, setting Harry off again.

"I'm feeling better!" Harry gasped out in response. Severus had just about got himself under control, but at Harry's reminder burst into a new round of what could only be called giggles and snorts. They continued in this fashion all the way back to the flat, setting the other off with a reminder of some joke or gag whenever one of them got too close to a straight face.

"The rabbit... Merlin, the rabbit," Severus moaned as they turned into the alley, and Harry was starting to worry he'd hurt himself laughing so hard. He flopped against the wall at the bottom of the metal staircase and tried to finally put some effort into calming down.

"Alright, alright, we have to make it up the stairs without falling and breaking our necks," Harry said, holding out a hand to Severus. "Deep breath, try to hold it in until we're safe and sound." Severus took Harry's hand, met his eyes, and then suddenly he was pressed against Harry from hips to lips. Harry's knees turned to jelly and Severus pushing him against the brick was the only thing keeping him up.

"Upstairs?" Severus asked after a while, and Harry nodded.

"Whatever you want, short of the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. I'm not royal enough to have that sort of knowledge," Harry said. Severus dropped his face into the crook of Harry's neck and snickered. Harry hugged him close for a moment, basking in the easy joy of it. "I do mean it, though. I'll suck your dick, or we can just cuddle on the couch and read, or both. Hopefully not at the same time, it would be a bit insulting for you to not pay me much attention while I'm getting you off."

"You're ridiculous," Severus said, pulling back. "I'm not going to read while we get off, it'll glue the pages together!"

"Speaking from experience?" Harry teased. "Come on, I'm not into public places, not even shadowy alleys."

"No added thrill in getting caught?" Severus asked, though he was twisting himself up as if he was uncomfortable about something.

"I'll kiss you anywhere you like, but I won't kiss you anywhere but your face or hand in public," Harry said directly into Severus' ear.

"Fuck," he whispered, and started pulling Harry up the stairs.

They landed in a tangle on the couch, Harry laying with his legs hanging off and the top of his head jammed in the corner between the back and armrest. They were too focused on re-learning how their tongues and teeth best fit together to care that he was half off the couch. After a while he started to slip. Harry reached up to pull Severus down into him, hugging the other boy tight until he broke the kiss and Harry could shift enough to hook his leg up onto the couch.

"Do you want me to..." Holy hell, Severus sounded scared and it was like a bucket of ice on Harry's libido.

"I'm fine, just didn't want to fall on the floor," Harry said gently. "How are you feeling?" The question sounded dumb out loud, but he had to ask.

"I can do this." Wrong answer, and in the wrong tone of voice. Harry pushed to sit up.

"You know what I want?"

"To get naked?" Severus squeaked. Well, that was certainly off the table.

"To wait until you want this."

"I do."

"I believe you want something, so tell me what it is," Harry said, and buried his face in Severus' shoulder. "People who are happy to be doing what they are doing don't say 'I can do this' like they are about to take a History test they forgot to study for. I'm not going anywhere, there is no rush. You don't even have to answer immediately. What do you want?" Harry pulled back and pecked a kiss on Severus' cheek. "Or if you aren't sure how to answer that, what is wrong here that needs to change?"

"I'm fine," Severus insisted.

"OK," Harry said, and relaxed to sit more comfortably. He was still at an angle on the couch, but fully seated on it now.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked.

"Enjoying your company," Harry said, an impish smile tugging his lips. "You're fine sitting here chatting, then we sit and chat."

"Ugh, I'm trying to get you off for your birthday," Severus said, poking Harry's chest with a slim finger.

"See, I think that's the problem," Harry said, waving a hand between them. "I'd rather we to try and get you off, especially since we already got me off for my birthday last Friday."

"It's the same thing."

"Really isn't. You don't have to try and get me off, I want you enough right now that's not something either of us needs to put much brainpower into. It'll happen if we keep kissing, but not if you are scared."

"I'm not scared!"

"Do you want to be naked with me?" Harry asked.

"Y-yes." Harry looked at the ridiculous person straddling his lap in complete disbelief. "Maybe later."

"That's better," Harry encouraged. "Is the kissing good?"

"Yes." Harry smiled bright at Severus' emphatic response.

"You do hear the difference, right? That's what I want. More like that, the things you really want to do, and none of the rest."

"I want to kiss you." Severus gripped Harry's upper arms tight.

"I want you," Harry purred, and then neither of them had much to say because their mouths were busy again. Harry rubbed Severus' jean-covered thighs while Severus pushed him into the cushions.

"You aren't a virgin," Severus said when he pulled back.

"I don't think that matters much for guys, does it?" Harry asked, a bit thrown by the sudden question. His entire body was singing with pleasure. The kisses were good, he wasn't exaggerating when he said he could be happy with just this.

"I am, though," Severus added on.

"Does it matter a lot to you?" Harry asked.

"Just that... I don't know what I'm doing. I only know how to do it with a girl." Harry licked his lips and tried desperately to think with his brain and not his dick.

"Are you trying to get yourself off?" Harry asked.

"I want you to get me off," Severus said, shoving Harry in frustration. He was looking down, not meeting Harry's eyes and the word choice gave Harry an idea.

"Look at me," Harry commanded. Severus glanced up through his lashes and then looked away again. "Look, Severus, look at me in the eye." Harry waited, demanding patience from himself. When Severus met his gaze Harry spoke while projecting all the honesty and care he could. "If I flip us over and suck you off, all you have to say is no and I'll stop. I'll take care of you, Severus, just say you want me to."

"Yes," Severus breathed, wide-eyed and eager. "Yes."

"Can I pull your trousers down, or do you want to do it?" Harry asked, and Severus answered by standing up to get the thick belt and fly open himself. "I could suck you off while you're standing if you like. Lick you like an ice lolly until I get some milk to drink."

"Oh, fuck, I... You, you, you talk like a..." Severus trailed off, so Harry smiled brightly and filled in the blank.

"A cock-slut gagging for a taste. You seem to like my dirty mouth, though I imagine you'll like it more when you use that leaking prick to shut me up." There was a nice damp spot on the white pants, and a delicious musky scent that some deep-rooted part of his brain associated with sex. Harry felt his own cock twitch, begging for freedom. Talking dirty was a double-edged sword, since he worked himself up when he did it.

"How the fuck did I pull you?" Severus asked himself as he pulled his erect prick free of his pants. He didn't pull the jeans down, though they were well-worn and a size or two too big, so they gaped open nicely. Harry didn't even try to hide that he was staring, though he might be playing up his panting in anticipation just a little to really sell it. "I'll fall over trying to stand through it."

"I'll kneel for you," Harry offered, tearing his eyes away from the prize to look up at Severus' face. The dark-eyed boy gasped like he'd been punched. "Just a little lick before you lay under me?" He watched Severus' eyes blow wide in shock before they snapped closed and warm, thick fluid sprayed on Harry's cheek and neck. Harry leaned forward to catch the third pulse at the source, using his hands to steady Severus as he shivered. Harry sucked greedily at what he could get, and a hand fisted in his hair to hold him there. Oh, bliss, and his own prick was trapped and begging for something, anything to set it off. The hand in his hair tugged back, and Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Delicious, oh please, please I'm close. Anything, please."

Severus pulled Harry where he needed him using the grip his dominant hand had on Harry's hair, and then Severus held him there while his right hand went to do something to Harry's crotch. The first press of exploration was all it took. Silly teenaged body with it's hair trigger, but that would get better with time. For now he let himself shatter, greedy hands reaching up to pull Severus down into another kiss. They collapsed together, the kiss when they finally got aligned was languid and gentle.

"Happy b'lated," Severus said sleepily, his northern accent slipping out a bit, clipping off bits of his words. It made Harry feel a little fuzzy inside. "'ere's some sweets I got ya, upstairs." Harry went to answer, yawned deeply, and then tried again.

"Were we meant to make it up there?"

"I dunno," Severus said. "Maybe, but 'is was brill."

"Today was great," Harry agreed, settling down with Severus like he was an especially boney teddy bear. "Might take a nap just here, unless you want up."

"Nah thanks, mm'a stay."

"For future, you can grab my hair like that any time we're doing it. Nearly came when you did it, fuck, it was so good."

"Mmm, I will. Now shu' up an' sleep." Harry yawned once more, and then the flat was quiet and still for an hour. They woke up with crusty pants when Severus fell off the couch, his dick still out, after putting an elbow into one of Harry's vital organs hard enough to get shoved, but such was the danger of two stringy boys napping on a small couch.

"Alright, we'll call it a draw," Severus said emphatically from the floor.

"It's only a model," Harry muttered back, and they laughed.