1997

“Why don’t you just tell the little shit to bugger off?”

Harry shrugged at his grousing friend, who was glaring at Draco’s blond head as Draco retreated down the long aisle.

“Just sit down, Ron.” Ginny emphasized her suggestion with a sharp poke to her brother’s back. Ron continued to scowl, but he finally did duck his head inside the compartment and flop grumpily onto the bench as the train swayed.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione scolded as she sat down on the bench opposite Ron, “he wasn’t bothering anyone. He just wanted to wish Harry a good summer.”

Ron directed his scowl at his girlfriend. “Malfoy always has an agenda.”

Hermione sighed and leaned her head back as Ron continued on.

“And how is he ever going to get it into his head that Harry doesn’t want to be his friend if Harry keeps being so nice to him?”

“Well, obviously Harry doesn’t mind,” Hermione pointed out, “so there’s no reason for you to work yourself up over it.”

“Harry doesn’t want to be friends with Malfoy!”

“Harry can be friends with whomever he chooses,” Hermione told him tartly as Neville and his girlfriend waved on their way past the quartet’s compartment.

“Malfoy’s become like one of those leaches—you know, the really juicy ones— we use in Potions class. Harry never chose to be friends with him.”

“Harry-” Hermione began to retort.

“Harry would rather not be the subject of your squabbling,” Harry interjected wearily as he settled next to Ron--though he would have preferred to sit next to Ginny. Ron and Hermione quieted immediately, both of them looking guilty, though neither of them so much as glanced at the other. Harry sighed, and shook his head slightly.

“Look,” he said quickly, “Malfoy’s a prat, I know, but he hasn’t done anything to me or anyone lately.” He shrugged again, at Ron’s skeptical look. “I don’t know if he’s up to something, but I can’t just be an arse to him for no reason.”

“Have you forgotten he almost got you killed?”

“Shut up, Ron,” Ginny ordered as Harry glared at his friend. As if he could have forgotten that. Draco had nearly gotten his father and Remus killed as well.

“I haven’t forgotten it,” Harry said quietly, glancing out the closed door, though it was unlikely that anyone would hear. “And he’s not my friend, all right?”

“Right,” Ron said tightly, though Harry wasn’t certain if Ron was annoyed at him, or at one of the girls, though Hermione wasn’t even looking at him; she was staring at the copy of today’s Prophet in her lap. “Sorry, mate,” Ron muttered after another moment, before turning toward the window.

Harry glanced at Ginny, who shrugged. Ron had been moody for days now, so he was fairly certain his spark of anger wasn’t really for Malfoy.

“Anything interesting in the Prophet?” Ginny asked Hermione pointedly, who was still focused on the newspaper. Hermione finally looked up.

“Scrimgeour’s resignation is being called for, even more strongly now,” she told him, pointing to the headlining article. Harry glanced at it, even though there was no point, since he couldn’t read upside down. Hermione passed the paper to him. “They do have a point,” she said.

The article was more of the same thing that had been churned over and over for months now. Scrimgeour’s administration had allowed Dawn Ridley, an innocent woman, to die in Bellatrix Lestrange’s stead—and Lucius Malfoy’s freedom was a certain sign of a corrupt system.

“Many people think Malfoy’s freedom is a slap in the face to every one of Voldemort’s victims,” Hermione added.

Harry vacillated on this point; he had since last Halloween, so he didn’t comment.

“Are they still nattering about my becoming minister?” he asked, not wanting to actually read the article. Hermione smiled.

“Of course. You and Dumbledore are the top candidates, all over wizarding Britain.”

“Just think,” Ginny said with a grin, “you could be the youngest Minister of Magic ever.”

“You’ll have to hire your dad as head of security,” Ron spoke up, sounding a bit more like normal. “He’ll just follow anyone else around otherwise, to make sure they do their job properly.”

Ron ducked neatly as Harry tossed the rolled newspaper at his head.

--

Harry and his friends were jostled as they fought their way through the narrow aisle of the long, scarlet train, hours later.

“That was my foot, Neville!”

“Er, Luna… I think something’s alive in your trunk…”

“Come on, Parvati! Mum and dad are waiting for us!”

“Oi!” Ron yelped as a first year knocked into him on her way off the train.

Harry caught his elbow before he and Pig could tumble head-first onto the platform. Somehow, they’d gotten separated from Ginny and Hermione in the fray. And by the time he and Ron had descended the few stairs, Hermione was already being hugged by Mrs. Weasley, while Ginny was receiving the same treatment from Mr. Weasley.

And right next to Mr. Weasley, looking decidedly out of place in his severe black robes, was Severus.

“Hi,” Harry greeted him with a huge grin as he stepped onto the platform. Severus didn’t have to smile for Harry to see the warm welcome in his features.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Severus asked as he took Harry’s trunk; Harry nodded as Severus shrunk the trunk and slipped it into a pocket.

“Yeah. Though I think I won’t eat again for a week.”

“Minerva and I have implored Albus to do away with the sweets offered on the train,” Severus said seriously.

“Be a bit hypocritical, wouldn’t it?”

“His words exactly.”

“Well, just lucky for me I know you have Stomach Calming Draught in your pockets,” Harry said, with a pointed glance at his father’s robes.

Severus obliged immediately, and Harry grimaced as the vile concoction rolled over his taste buds. “Thanks,” he managed anyway. Severus returned the empty vial to his pocket.

“Since you undoubtedly have no interest in dinner,” he began, and Harry made a face at the thought of more food, “perhaps you would like to accompany me to Knockturn Alley instead—to Daniel’s shop. I need to procure a few of the rarer ingredients which I regularly use.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, though he was a bit surprised that his dad seemed to have no qualms about taking him to the darker side of London’s wizarding shops.

The skin around Severus' eyes crinkled, emphasizing his good humor. “I believe I can trust you to stay out of mischief?”

“Me?” Harry parroted with the most innocent expression he could muster. “I haven’t been in any sort of trouble for ages.”

“Of course, he hasn’t, Severus. Harry’s a good boy.”

Harry smiled as Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in a hug.

“You mind your father now, Harry,” she admonished as she pulled away, tapping his cheek firmly to emphasize the order.

“I will, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry promised. Satisfied, Mrs. Weasley left Harry to her husband, who shook Harry’s hand.

“Good to see you again, Harry,” he said sincerely. “Ginny told us all about your last match. Molly and I were so proud—all three of you on the team this year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley.”

“Arthur,” Mr. Weasley corrected with another pat to Harry’s shoulder. “Now,” he said to his family, leaving Harry blinking slowly. “Let’s get these bags out to the car.”

“Oh, I wish we would have Apparated, Arthur. That car-”

“Now, now, Molly, dear, it’s supposed to be fun.”

A small hand snaked around Harry’s waist. He smiled down at Ginny as she leaned into his side.

“Good thing my dad likes you so much,” she teased. “I get to skip all the lectures about dating the wrong boy.”

“That’s why you’re dating me, eh?”

“Pretty much.”

Harry had to settle for taking her hand, in place of a very public kiss. “Walk you to the car park?” he asked, already feeling a tug of sadness that he wouldn’t see her every day for the next two months. He glanced up at his dad when Ginny nodded. “That all right?”

In answer, Severus waved his wand, and he was no longer wearing his robes. And though the rest of his black ensemble wasn’t exactly Muggle-chic, Harry tried not to smirk. Severus’ eyebrow rose a fraction before he turned toward the exit. With Ginny pressed firmly next to his ribs, Harry grinned and followed.

“My dad’s taking me to Hermione’s house tomorrow,” Ginny said quietly as they walked. Harry tried not to glance back at Hermione; he could just see her in his peripheral vision.

“I tried talking to Ron last night,” Harry returned, just as softly, “but he wouldn’t say what was bothering him.”

“I know it’s Hermione.”

“You know? Did she tell you something?” Harry couldn’t help glancing at Hermione that time; she was chatting with Mr. Weasley—about toothpaste, of all things. Harry turned back to Ginny when she nudged him in the ribs.

“She didn’t tell me anything, but what else could have Ron so…” she struggled for the right word.

“Grumpy?” Harry supplied with a shrug.

“I was going to say distant…”

Harry sighed. He hated the idea of his two best friends at odds with one another, but he knew Ginny was right. And really, he supposed it was actually pretty surprising that the two of them hadn’t been on the outs before this—with the way they were always fighting…

“Harry, you and I will step through together.”

Harry looked up, confused for a second until he realized his dad was waiting in front of the barrier—best to go through in shifts so as not to make the Muggles on the other side suspicious.

“Go ahead with them, Ginny dear,” Mrs. Weasley urged. Severus nodded once and the trio stepped through the brick, and continued on, without meeting any curious stares, forward through the crowded station.

Though for Harry, it was very odd to step through without the familiar dread or unease gnawing at the pit of his stomach. For the first time in five years, he wasn’t here to meet his uncle. And he wouldn’t have to hear his aunt’s frantic, nearly-shrill admonishments to get into the car before somebody spotted them. Or listen to Dudley whining that he was hot, or thirsty… or the other hundred complaints he always seemed to have.

Harry kept all his relief carefully shielded; if he felt the need, he could explain how he was feeling later—when he and his dad weren’t dodging their way around harried passengers. He smiled a bit when Severus glanced over at him.

I’ll tell you later, Harry told him silently, with a rueful shake of his head. He tended to forget that his dad could feel him shielding—not that his father had been asking really… The tiny flame beside Harry’s storm brightened briefly, the equivalent of a shoulder squeeze, before Severus turned his eyes back to searching for the end to the crowd.

They all stopped once for the Grangers, and another round of greetings, before continuing on together.

“Maybe you can invite Ron to do something,” Ginny suggested as they finally came to the car park.

Harry ducked his head, and skimmed his lips over Ginny’s hair. “I will,” he promised. “And you try to work it out of Hermione.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

Ginny and Harry turned to Mr. Weasley, who was steering Mrs. Weasley toward a gleaming silver Bentley.

“The headlights are an ingenious invention, aren’t they, Molly dear? I could probably figure out how to wire our house… Severus, are you familiar with this-”

“Arthur, hush. So many Muggles…”

“Oh… yes.” Mr. Weasley ducked his head sheepishly, but he was waving toward the rest of them. Probably in an effort to keep Mr. Weasley mum, everyone except Harry turned to inspect the car. Harry punched Ron lightly on the shoulder as Ron twisted to do likewise.

“Want to come over tomorrow? Ginny’s going to Hermione’s house.”

Ron’s eyes darted to Hermione’s back. “She is?” His face was uncommonly pale.

“You all right?” Harry asked, lowering his voice. He watched his friend’s Adam’s apple pulse for a few seconds. “Ron, what-”

“There you are!”

Harry’s upper arm was caught in a rough grip, and he stumbled slightly as he was jerked around. Vernon’s furious eyes glared down at him.

Reacting instinctively, even though Vernon shouldn’t have been here—they’d sent an owl to tell him not to come—Harry tried to pull away, but that only made Vernon shake him sharply.

“You’re an ungrateful little sod, you are! We’ve been waiting for nearly an hour for you! And here you are, standing around in a car park with your freakish lot!”

Harry couldn’t dodge the hot spittle as it splattered across his cheeks and forehead. As he tried to twist away again, a shadow loomed over both of them, and then a long-fingered hand was clutched around Vernon’s beefy neck.

Severus’ nose was pressed close to Vernon’s bulging eyes. “Release him,” he hissed. But before Vernon could comply, Severus yanked him so hard, Vernon’s face purpled. Harry grimaced as Vernon’s fingers sought purchase against his bicep. Severus shoved hard with the flat of his palm against Vernon’s collar, and Harry nearly fell backward. Ron’s arms stopped him.

“Bloody hell…” Ron breathed near his ear. Harry swatted at Ron’s hands impatiently as he steadied himself. His father had pressed a panting and scrabbling Vernon up against the Bentley; his fingers were inching toward his wand.

“Severus!” Mr. Weasley said sharply, touching Severus’ arm as Harry sprinted over to his father’s side.

“Dad, stop,” he said quietly, interposing himself between Vernon and his father. Severus’ eyes slid away from Vernon. The raw hatred burning through the deep black made Harry’s stomach turn. “I’m all right,” Harry said quietly, placating.

He settled a hand on his father’s arm. 

“He’s not worth it."  And where Mr. Weasley had failed, Harry reached him. Severus released Vernon. And as Harry’s uncle slithered to the ground, Severus took Harry’s arm—impossibly gently—and turned both of them away.

A few cars down, Harry could see Petunia peering at them from behind the windshield of the Dursleys’ car, and Harry could see Dudley’s head sticking out of the car window just behind her. Petunia’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Harry, being escorted; she’d obviously missed the rest of the scene. She twisted her head around. After what looked like hasty instructions for Dudley, Petunia got out of the car.

She came forward cautiously, and Harry glanced up at the heightened pressure around his arm. His father’s mouth was stretched in a severe line.

Petunia stared at Severus for a long moment. “You’re that friend of Lily’s and James’…” She shook herself and frowned at Harry. “Whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into-” she began in her more familiar shrewish tones, “Vernon and I will take care-”

“Seal your lips,” Severus interrupted harshly, “and listen carefully.”

Petunia blinked.

“Harry will not set foot in your house again,” Severus continued icily. “If the choice were mine, I would see you and your husband punished in the most painful way possible for the years of abuse you have subjected Harry to.”

Petunia opened her mouth, but then her eyes widened. “Vernon!” she cried. She skirted around Harry and Severus to bat at Mr. Weasley’s hands as he tried to help Vernon toward his car. “What happened?” she asked Vernon frantically, but Vernon only sputtered a little as he backed away from Severus.

To Harry he said, his voice too shaky to be intimidating, “You can find your own way to Privet Drive, boy.”

Harry found himself stepping a little in front of his father when Severus stiffened; he supposed he wasn’t surprised when Severus pulled him back again.

“He’s not coming, Vernon,” Petunia whispered. Behind them, Dudley leaned even farther out the window, looking like he might topple over onto the concrete.

“Not coming?” Vernon blustered, looking around confusedly.

“Vernon, let’s leave. People are starting to look.”

As she steered Vernon away, Severus said in a voice full of contempt, “Lily would be sickened to know how you have treated her son.”

Petunia turned back sharply. Vernon teetered unsteadily with the quick movement. Petunia advanced on Severus, no longer looking cowed.

“I took her son into my home, without any compensation. We didn’t want him!”

No matter that he already knew it, the words still hit Harry a bit like a fist to the solar plexus.

“Yes,” Severus said, and the air seemed to freeze around them, “you made that perfectly clear.”

“Of course I did!” Petunia shot back. “I knew what he would be. Just like Lily, with her disgusting talents, infecting us just like she did. I had to protect my family from that.”

“And that is why you locked him in a cupboard, and fed him your scraps? To protect yourselves?”

“Yes,” Petunia snapped. “Lily ruined everything,” she said, her voice nearly cracking. “I refused to allow her son to do the same.”

Harry tugged against his father’s hold, just wanting to let his aunt and uncle leave. Severus looked down at him; Harry hoped he didn’t look as desperate as he felt—he didn’t need anyone else to understand what he was feeling. Harry could see the war behind his father’s eyes, but it only lasted for seconds before he turned back to Petunia.

“You are despicable,” Severus said softly. “You have always been so. I have no idea why Lily ever cared for you. Though it was never a mystery why your parents favored her, over you.”

Petunia’s pinched lips trembled.

Severus snarled at her, and then he pivoted around, bringing Harry with him, and away from the Dursleys.

As they turned, Harry caught Dudley’s eye. He couldn’t be sure, since he’d never seen that particular expression on his cousin’s face, but… Harry almost thought Dudley looked regretful.

Harry was perplexed—and too stunned to reciprocate—when Dudley lifted his fingers in what looked like a wave-

“Hurry, Petunia…before they change their minds...” And then Vernon was blocking any more sight of Dudley or Petunia.

Severus walked with clipped steps which seemed to glance off of the ears, back to Harry’s friends, while Harry’s mind whirled with thoughts of that unfulfilled wave.

“Is everyone all right?”

That was Mr. Granger, leaning slightly toward Severus and Harry, though his body was obviously a shield to his wife and daughter. Harry wondered wryly if Mr. Granger knew that Hermione could have blasted the Dursleys to bits with one little word.

“Yes, sir, everything’s fine,” Harry answered—his dad looked a bit flayed open at the moment.

There was a stretch of unfilled silence and then Mrs. Weasley took over and began saying goodbyes to everyone. Her hug for Harry was much tighter than her first one had been. And Ginny was standing closer than she would normally in this sort of crowd. Harry sighed a little as Ron gripped his shoulder.

“So, you coming over tomorrow?” Harry asked, as casually as he could.

“Sure, mate.”

Hermione kissed Harry’s cheek, mumbled a farewell to Ron, and left quickly with her parents. Ron watched Hermione’s back until she disappeared. With slumped shoulders, he slid into the backseat of Mr. Weasley’s charmed car.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Harry promised as Ginny wrapped her arms around him. Ginny didn’t answer; she pulled his head down and kissed him softly. His initial surprise fleeing quickly, Harry kissed her back. And when Ginny pulled away, she pressed her cheek to his.

“You are loved, Harry,” she said quietly. “By many people. Don’t you forget that.”

Though he’d been largely unaware of the large knot of tension which had formed in the pit of his stomach when Vernon had first grabbed him, Harry did recognize the feeling of those muscles loosening. He pulled Ginny close. She kissed his warm cheek.

“I’ll see you soon,” Ginny whispered as she pulled away, and then she too was safely in the car. Mr. Weasley smiled at them before he slid behind the wheel. Harry and Severus stepped back to allow him room to maneuver.

Ginny and Ron both waved until they veered out of the park.

“To Knockturn Alley, then?”

“We will need to find a more secluded place,” Severus answered quietly. Harry fell in step beside him, trying not to glance at him as they walked toward the street. They had to walk for several blocks before they came to a park.

Harry turned to his father as soon as they had slipped into a shaded copse of trees. He abruptly decided not to suggest they go home. Severus was gazing at him, his features shuttered.

“I should have gone to tell them in person,” he finally said, “instead of relying on an owl.”

Harry smiled, which seemed to come out a little lopsided. “Well, owls are usually pretty reliable…”

Harry watched as his father’s jaw tensed. “Did he hurt you?”

Harry had to think for a second, where exactly his uncle might have hurt him. Right… Vernon had grabbed his arm… It felt like someone had grabbed him, and it might sport a bruise, but it was nothing to fuss over, so he shook his head.

Severus studied him for a moment; he didn’t look convinced. “I apologize for making the situation worse than was necessary,” he said, still speaking in low tones. “It was… extremely difficult to restrain myself.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if you had done something to them. I don’t think they’re capable of anything more.”

Severus closed his eyes, and Harry knew he was struggling to compose himself, even though, outwardly, he was perfectly calm.

“Dudley waved to me.”

Severus’ eyes opened slowly. “And this surprised you?”

“Dudley’s never really liked me much.”

“And I assume the dislike is reciprocated?”

Smiling to himself at his effective distraction, Harry nodded.

“You did, however, save him from Dementors, if I recall correctly…”

Harry nearly snorted. If… “Well, couldn’t let him be Kissed, could I?”

“I suppose it would have been frowned upon," Severus agreed, his lips quirking. And then, more seriously, he said, “If you wish to discuss the Dursleys, we may—at any time.”

“I know.” Harry gave his father a reassuring smile, which seemed to relax Severus considerably.

“Are you ready to Disapparate?” he inquired.

Harry nodded and stepped forward. His father’s arms came around him, pulling him close. Closer, really, than was strictly necessary to cushion the effects of Disapparating. And it took much longer than it usually did for Severus to turn on the spot.

Harry gasped a little when they reappeared—near Gringotts. He blinked up at the tall building as he caught his breath.

Severus held Harry’s elbow as he stepped away; he felt a bit wobblier than usual. “I thought we were going to Knockturn Alley.”

“It is unwise to Apparate into Knockturn Alley, since it leaves you briefly vulnerable.” He released Harry’s elbow. “Is there anywhere else you would like to go first?”

They hadn’t been to Diagon Alley since right before Christmas. Harry felt a quiet tug in his chest at the thought of Sirius; he let it linger as he glanced around the busy street. They’d already been noticed by more than one passerby, and Harry wondered if it would ever feel normal to be recognized by strangers.

“I don’t really need anything,” Harry finally answered. Severus nodded and gestured down the street.

“We can return here anytime during the summer, of course,” he said as they walked toward the shadowed street that would take them into Knockturn Alley. “Or take a trip to Hogsmeade, should you think of anything before we return here for your supplies.”

“I’ll need to think of something to buy for Ginny’s birthday,” Harry mused as they stepped onto the dirty, cobbled path. A stooped hag smiled toothily at him. Harry couldn’t be certain, of course, but he was pretty sure he had seen her when he’d been here right before second year—she even had a tray of fingers in her hands. He made sure to give her a wide berth.

“Have you anything in mind?” his father asked as they passed Borgin and Burkes.

“Not yet…” Harry’s brow furrowed as the proprietor of the creepy shop pressed his nose against the dusty shop window. His eyes seemed to want to crawl inside Harry; Harry shivered. He looked up in surprise when they stopped walking a few moments later. They were standing in front of a dilapidated-looking shop—the windows were too dark to see inside, and it wasn’t even marked.

“This is it?”

“Yes.” Severus pressed his fingertips against the small pane of glass in the middle of the closed door. “Only regular customers are allowed entrance,” he explained. “And most choose to use the Floo, rather than venture into Knockturn Alley.”

The door creaked open. Severus motioned for Harry to precede him, which Harry did, though not without a measure of hesitation—this was even weirder than Borgin and Burkes…

Harry halted just inside the door, and didn’t move until his father’s hand prodded his shoulder blade. Harry stepped forward, and the door closed softly behind them, but Harry didn’t stop staring. The room was brightly lit—and pristine. There wasn’t even a hint that dust could have ever been in this shop, in fact. There were shelves along each wall—hundreds of them, and they were all neatly filled with flasks and vials. Of every imaginable color and shape.

A short man, with a full head of gleaming silver hair and perfectly round spectacles was just coming through the door in the back. “Severus, so good to see you,” he said warmly. He reached out a wrinkled hand to Harry. “And you must be Harry,” he guessed.

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered, taking the man’s hand and shaking it firmly.

“Daniel Virala,” the man introduced himself. “Your father told you he was my apprentice during the last summer before his majority?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need to be so formal. Daniel will do,” the shopkeeper said with a smile. To Severus, he chided, “You’ve certainly taken your time, in allowing me to meet him.”

Severus inclined his head. “The school year has kept us busy.”

“Of course,” Daniel said, accepting what sounded like an apology to Harry. “Your father,” he continued on to Harry, “very seldom writes to me unprompted, but I’ve kept up with the news. Although, I am fairly certain most of that is inaccurate… Of course, you can expect my vote, if you really do intend to make a go of becoming Minister.” He winked, and Harry found himself smiling at the older man.

“Come on into the back room,” Daniel invited, gesturing with both hands. “You’ll be most interested in my newest acquisition, Severus.”

Harry glanced at his father, who nodded. Harry followed Daniel, stepping into a room, which was divided into two parts—a general workroom and a lab, it looked like.

Daniel led them over to a corner of the workroom, which was just as immaculate as the shop. Severus stepped close to a rectangular cage sitting on a table in the corner.

“Where did you find him?” he asked, sounding surprised—and more than a little excited.

“In New York, of all places… near Niagara Falls,” Daniel answered, leaning in next to Severus, both of them with their heads bent down toward whatever was in the tank. “Though it wasn’t found by me.”

“One of your contacts?”

“No, actually. Margaret Blunt. You remember her, don’t you? She’s just returned to England.” Daniel glanced at Harry. “Healer Blunt. She was your mother’s midwife-” which Harry already knew, but he didn’t want to interrupt, so he nodded, “- I do believe James told us that she delivered you…” Daniel furrowed his brow as he turned back to Severus. “Though perhaps that was a story to go along with your cover?”

“It was not,” Severus answered, still distracted by the mystery ‘acquisition’. Daniel smiled at Severus before turning back to Harry.

“It’s a very rare reptile—called a kylaria. Its scales are used to make several different potions.” He moved aside and ushered Harry forward.

“A dragon?” Harry blurted in surprise. A tiny dragon… no bigger than Harry’s hand. It was black, except for the golden yellow tail, which ended in a rather fearsome-looking, triangular point. And when the dragon moved, its black scales seemed to shimmer as if they’d been sprinkled with golden dust. As soon as Harry came near, the little creature’s head swung around. Harry bent closer, mesmerized by its liquid eyes—as yellow as its tail.

“It is remarkable, isn’t it?” Daniel said with a nod. “It doesn’t breathe fire, though.”

Harry bent his neck to get a closer look at the regal reptile. The kylaria continued to study him.

“Be careful not to get too close—kylaria are very fond of human flesh.”

Harry pulled back abruptly, and Daniel chuckled.

Severus finally turned from the kylaria. “Do you have a buyer yet?”

“Of course not, Severus,” Daniel said. “Though, your timing was perfect. Margaret brought it to me last night. I received your owl just as I was about to send you a message myself.”

“Excellent,” Severus said with a nod.

“I have the rest of your order ready as well,” Daniel said, gesturing to a large box on the table in the middle of the room. As Severus went over to inspect the box, Daniel said to Harry, “Margaret—Healer Blunt—relocated to New York only days before You Know Who disappeared. She was a Muggleborn,” he explained.

“I did not realize she had returned,” Severus said as he inspected a tall bottle of what looked like blue mist.

“She’s taken up her position at St. Mungo’s again.”

Severus nodded as he carefully replaced the bottle of blue mist, and went onto a flask with tiny green, shrimp-shaped things floating in a clear liquid.

“Did you father tell you any stories about when he used to work with me?” Daniel asked Harry.

“Your attempts at embarrassing me will not work any better with Harry than they did with Lily,” Severus said dryly, not even looking at them.

“Whatever do you mean, Severus?” Daniel returned innocently. He leaned in close to Harry. “Severus brought Lily to meet me after they’d graduated. She particularly enjoyed it when I told her how many cauldrons exploded while Severus was with me.”

“You blew up cauldrons?” Harry asked incredulously.

“We were working with highly temperamental potions-”

“Some of them,” Daniel cut in with a laugh. Severus opened his mouth, paused and then closed it again. Daniel smiled. “He learned quickly though. Always an excellent student. My best,” he added firmly. And Harry was certain he only imagined that his father’s chest puffed out at the praise.

“Now if I could just get him to agree to partner with me…”

“In your shop?” Harry asked with surprise. “But he teaches at Hogwarts.”

“And from what Albus tells me, he has done an excellent job,” Daniel said. “But he’s truly not using all of his talents as a teacher.”

Harry eyed his father.

“As I have explained Daniel, I have no wish to leave my post.”

“Well….” Daniel gestured around the room, “…if you ever change your mind, you are always welcome here.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now,” Daniel said thoughtfully, “you will need to Floo back to Hogwarts… Wouldn’t want to take the kylaria back through these streets… Perhaps you’d like to carry the cage, Harry?”

Harry glanced warily at the unassuming reptile.

“I will take the kylaria,” Severus interjected, his lips quirking with amusement.

“I’m not afraid of it.”

“Well, I should hope not, Harry. He will be living in your home, after all.”

“Living there?”

“Kylaria scales are harvested live,” Severus explained.

“You’re going to skin it alive?!”

“Certainly not,” Severus answered, frowning. “The scales are plucked—and only one at a time.”

“Doesn’t that hurt it?”

“The kylaria is a male,” Daniel said. “It doesn’t hurt him. He gives his scales quite willingly, in fact, to his familiar.”

“His familiar?” Harry narrowed his eyes at the little creature, who was once again staring right back at him. “Like Hedwig… or Hermione’s kneazle?”

“Exactly,” Severus said with a nod.

“So, you were only joking then, when you said he likes human flesh?” Harry asked Daniel.

“Not at all.” Daniel smiled at Harry’s darting glance toward the kylaria. “But a kylaria won’t hurt you, not if he knows you are part of his familiar’s clan.”

“Oh.” That made sense, he supposed. As much sense as a miniature dragon-creature, who was part potions-ingredient could make…

Severus turned to retrieve the cage. The kylaria’s black wings spread open, and the little creature roared—though it sounded more like a squeak. His wings flapped loudly against the metal bars; gold shimmered as the leathery black wings caught the light.

“It seems our friend here, doesn’t want you, Severus,” Daniel said; he stroked his chin.

Severus frowned. “Harry,” he said quietly, motioning Harry forward with his fingers, “come here.”

Harry did as he was bid, and as he stepped next to his father, the kylaria tucked his wings away. He stalked forward and thrust his head between the bars.

Harry stared at it. “What’s going on?”

“He has chosen you,” Severus answered simply.

“Me?” Harry shook his head. “But you’re the one who needs him for your potions. And I already have Hedwig…”

“A bond with the kylaria won’t affect your relationship with Hedwig. And a kylaria is rather firm in its choice of a familiar,” Daniel explained. “This one will not bond with Severus now, though he should have no objection to you giving his scales to Severus…”

Harry grimaced at the idea of plucking the little kylaria, even if they said it wouldn’t hurt. The kylaria nudged his head forward again, this time making a soft sound, like a purr.

“I believe he is attempting to communicate that he would like you to take him out of his cage,” Severus said.

Harry looked between the two men.

“And you’re certain he wants to be my familiar? Maybe he’s just peckish…”

“His teeth are too small to remove any of your limbs, even your fingers,” Daniel assured him. “The latch is right on that little door.”

Harry gave the little reptile a stern look. “I’m not dinner,” he said firmly. The kylaria nudged his head further outside the cage. And with a little sigh, Harry undid the latch, and opened the door.

“Put your hand out—palm facing up,” Severus said quietly. Harry did, and the kylaria pulled its head back through the bars and walked with regal steps to the door. Without pausing, he hopped delicately into Harry’s hand. He was so light, Harry doubted he’d know the kylaria was even there, if he hadn’t been looking right at it.

Uncertain what to do, Harry cradled his hand to his chest. It would be harder to drop the kylaria that way. The kylaria curled his long tail around its body, and made himself right at home. As Harry stared down at the little dragon, he found himself wondering what Hedwig would think of his new familiar. Hopefully, she wouldn’t think he was dinner.

1997 

“Has your father left yet?”

Harry shook his head as he opened the door fully. Remus, his arms wrapped securely around a squalling bundle of blankets, stepped in quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, peering at his howling godson, who had been named Sirius.  Which had still made Harry grin, every time he heard it.  

Remus stared down at the green-haired baby Sirius, shrugging helplessly. “…I don’t know. Tonks went shopping with her mother, and he just started crying… I can’t get him to stop.”

“Maybe he’s hungry.”

Remus shook his head. “He just ate. He’s been changed, and I don’t think he’s tired. He just woke up.”

“Perhaps he would prefer to be held a different way.”

Remus looked up as Severus entered the room.

“I’ve tried rocking him… burping him. Nothing helps.”

Severus glanced at Harry as he stepped past them to pull his teaching robes from their hook. “Harry used to prefer to be held upright.”

“He’s too small…” Remus tried to shift Sirius in his arms; Harry winced at the piercing wail.

“Cradle his bottom with your elbow,” Severus directed, moving closer and nodding as Remus slid Sirius’ bum into the crook of his elbow. “Bring your shoulder upward so that his chest is lying against yours. And hold his back with your palm.”

Remus concentrated as he did as Severus directed. The baby’s cries slowed.

“Sway,” Severus ordered.

Remus began to shift his hips so that he was rocking side to side; Harry grinned at him, which earned him a mock-glare from Remus.

“You had best pay attention, yourself,” he said quietly as Sirius began to make soft, contented sounds. “Once he gets a little older, you’ll be on babysitter duty.”

“Maybe you should have my dad do it,” Harry said with a smirk.

Remus smiled, then swiveled his head to Severus. “Thank you.”

Severus nodded. “We should not be late,” he reminded the other man, glancing pointedly at the mantel clock.

“Right,” Remus said, with a glance for his son. “I hope he cooperates…”

“You’ll get a good workout, anyway,” Harry chuckled. He leaned down so that he was eye-level with his godson. Sirius stared at him with sleepy brown eyes. Harry reached a finger to caress his soft cheek with the knuckle. “You’ve got some big shoes to fill, kiddo. Don’t make it too easy on your old man.”

“I’ll remember you said that, when your turn comes.”

“You’ll be too old by then,” Harry said as he straightened up. “And Sirius will already be corrupted.”

Remus responded with smile, and a nudge to move Harry out of the way. “Tonks has big plans for him to be the best prankster since the Weasley twins, so the two of you can talk later.”

Harry grinned.

“The meeting will likely last through most of the afternoon,” Severus said as he and Remus moved toward the door. “Leave a note, if you leave the castle grounds.”

“I will. I think we’re just going to do a bit of flying—around the pitch.”

“Tell Ron ‘hello’ for me,” Remus added over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.

“We are expected in Albus’ office for dinner.”

“I’ll be back by then,” Harry promised; apparently, it was the tradition for the staff to dine together before they went their separate ways for the summer.

“Enjoy yourself,” Severus said, before following Remus into the corridor.

Harry sighed as soon as the door closed behind them. It was probably too much to expect that he and Ron would have much fun—not if Ron was going to be acting the same way he had been for the past week.

Harry started when the door was pushed open. Severus held his hand out; a scaly black head was poking out of his fist. “You and I will need to find a more suitable environment for him, since my pocket is generally not the best place for a dragon,” Severus said dryly. He opened his fist.

Levi spread his wings, flapped them gently and soared toward Harry, where he settled onto Harry’s forearm.

Harry gave his dragon a mild glare. “Dragons live in caves though,” he pointed out to his father. Harry’s first stop when they’d returned to the castle last night had been the Hogwarts’ library. Madame Pince had nearly tripped over her feet in her excitement to find Harry a book about the rare kylaria.

“I will speak with Hagrid after the meeting.”

Harry ran a gentle finger down Levi’s neck; Levi purred. “Thanks,” he said to his father.

Severus smiled slightly, and returned to the corridor.

Harry jiggled his arm, and Levi obligingly walked upward, his sharp claws using Harry’s sleeve for traction. “I think you would have been pretty bored at that meeting,” Harry said quietly—the book Madame Pince had given him had said that kylaria were very sensitive to sound. And, despite what Daniel had said, they didn’t really enjoy feasting on human flesh—they simply seemed to have no aversion to taking a chunk out of an aggressor.

Levi gazed at him as Harry explained that the professors were supposed to meet to discuss the past year—and the upcoming year, before they reconvened in August. Levi's bright yellow eyes seemed to take in every word.

Both Harry and his dragon turned as the Floo opened. Ron stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his windbreaker as he came. A bit envious of Ron’s easy travel, Harry asked, “How do you do that? Come out without tripping?”

Ron smirked—a rare sight these days. “Practice… What is that?” Ron’s ginger eyebrows snapped together as he stared at Levi.

“He’s a kylaria—a rare sort of dragon.”

“A Dragon? Did Hagrid get another egg?” Ron stepped closer; Levi spread his wings, hissing a little. Ron pulled back.

“He’s a friend,” Harry assured his familiar. “He’s not a baby… My dad got him from a friend—his scales are used for potions.” Harry hastily explained exactly how the scales were used, not wanting Ron to think they were going to kill the little dragon.

“Have you shown him to Hagrid?”

“Not yet. We’re going to see if Hagrid can help make some sort of cave for him to live in.”

Levi had ventured down to Harry’s hand again.

“You can touch him,” Harry said to Ron. “A friend,” he reminded Levi. Levi began to purr when Ron stroked his head. “He’s a bit telepathic, I think—more so than Hedwig or Crookshanks…”

Ron drew his finger away from Levi abruptly; Harry frowned.

“What’s going on, mate?” he asked quietly. Ron shook his head though.

“Nothing,” he said. “I brought my broom; still want to play out on the pitch?”

Harry wanted to press his friend further, but Ron didn’t have that mulish look on his face, like he usually did when he didn’t want to talk about something, and it unnerved Harry. The skin under Ron's eyes was mottled—it stood out starkly against his pale, freckled skin. Maybe a few hours with a Quaffle would sort him out...

--

But two hours did nothing for Ron—except perhaps make him angrier than he had been at Malfoy yesterday. He attacked the Quaffle like it was his own personal Voldemort, nearly knocking Harry off his broom more than once. The fifth time it happened, the Quaffle plowed into Harry’s stomach, dispelling the air from his chest in a great whoosh.

He doubled over, groaning softly. Levi, who had been flying happily with them, roared. Harry looked up; the kylaria was diving for Ron’s head. With a quick thrust of his arm, Harry snatched the angry dragon from the sky.

“Accident,” he muttered to his familiar. Levi craned his neck to peer suspiciously at Ron.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said in a low voice as he circled above. “Maybe we better take a break.”

“Could use some water,” Harry agreed breathlessly, trying to crack a grin. Ron mopped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and then dove toward the ground without a word. Harry followed at a slower pace. He scrubbed at his abdomen as he slid off his broom, and tucked Levi into his front pocket for safe keeping; the kylaria curled against his stomach.

“You all right?” Ron asked, grimacing.

“Just surprised me,” Harry lied. But Ron nodded and they walked together toward the castle. Silently, until Harry could no longer keep still.

“Ron,” he began tentatively, not quite sure how to start a conversation like this one, “if you need to… er, talk about something… well, we can.”

Ron sighed, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “Yeah… Thanks, but I’m all right.”

Harry studied his friend’s slumped shoulders. “Is it Hermione?”

Ron stopped walking; his swung sharply around so that he was facing Harry. “She told you,” he breathed, in an accusatory way that startled Harry.

“Ron-”

“She thinks she’s pregnant, and won’t even talk to me, but she tells you!”

It was a very long minute before Harry remembered to close his mouth again.

“Hermione’s… pregnant?”

“Might be,” Ron corrected automatically, but then his eyes became saucers. “Did she tell you she was?”

“What? No,” Harry said hastily as the veins in Ron’s neck began pulsing. “Hermione didn’t tell me anything.”

“You just said she told you!”

“No, I didn’t.” Harry shook his head, unable to untangle the last few minutes of their conversation. “Forget that, Ron. What do you mean, she might be-” Harry swallowed. “-pregnant?”

Ron’s shoulders suddenly drooped. He pressed his hand into his eyes. “I don’t know,” he moaned softly. “I don’t know, Harry. We were careful… I’m almost certain we were.”

Harry licked his lips, which had gone completely dry. “Almost…?” Though he and Ron had never discussed it specifically, he’d figured that his two best friends were having sex. But this—well, this was something he had never even imagined.

“We meant to… I used the charm. The one my dad showed me…”

“Just you? Why didn’t she use… you know the one that lasts longer for girls… or that potion?”

Ron groaned. “I don’t know,” he said again. “Her parents are Muggles! And there wasn’t a lot of information about those types of charms in the library—and we couldn’t exactly ask Pince for help … Hermione thought about talking to Pomfrey… but…” Ron shook his helplessly, and Harry couldn’t blame Hermione for that. How does one go about asking the school’s Mediwitch for help with contraceptive charms?

“But isn’t there some way to find out for sure… if she’s…”

Ron sank down onto the top step. His next words were muffled against his arms—something about a diagnostic and Hermione not knowing how to perform one. Harry plopped down next to him.

“I’m sorry, Ron…” What else could he say?

Ron raised his head; his blue eyes were sunken. “She says there’s some sort of Muggle test… you have to buy it…“

Harry sat beside his friend, trying to figure out what he could say—not that there was really going to be a way to make this better if Hermione was… Harry looked over at his friend. “You should go with her,” he said quietly.

Ron was staring at his hands. “She didn’t want me to.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “… Is she going to tell her mum?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think that’s why she asked Ginny for a visit? So that-”

“Bloody hell!”

Harry shifted backward at Ron’s strangled yelp; Levi’s claws pricked through his windbreaker.

“If Hermione tells Ginny, she’ll tell my mum and dad!”

Harry stared at his friend, whose pale face had now flushed a deep crimson. An angry crimson… “Well, didn’t you sort of assume that Hermione asked her there -?”

“She didn’t!” Ron exploded. He stood up, his hands fisting agitatedly. “Hermione’s dad offered to show my dad around his office. Dad wanted to see the drills and toothpickles the Grangers’ use. Shit, Harry! How could Hermione tell Ginny?” Ron stuffed his fists into his pockets, and stomped down the stairs.

Harry, leaving aside the mistake about the toothpickles, stood up and followed slowly after his friend. He watched Ron pacing back and forth in front of the steps for a few minutes, until Ron had worked himself into a proper froth.

“You don’t know she’s going to tell Ginny-”

“Of course she will! You just made me tell you, didn’t you?”

Harry very carefully battened down his irritation, figuring Ron had a good reason to be in a temper. “I didn’t make you. But it doesn’t matter,” he stressed when Ron looked ready to disagree. “Ginny won’t tell your parents.”

Ron huffed at that.

“Do you really think that’s the most important thing?” Harry asked, a bit of his irritation slipping through, after all. “If she is pregnant, every one’s going to know-”

“Is that supposed to help?” Ron demanded. “I know that, Harry! It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

Harry frowned at his friend, his anger surging through now on behalf of Hermione. “That’s what you’ve been brooding about? Not what Hermione must be feeling? Or even what it’s going to mean to-”

“Of course I’ve been thinking about Hermione! What kind of prick do you think I am?”

“I didn’t say you were a prick,” Harry gritted. “And if you care so much about Hermione, why didn’t you go with your dad?”

“I told you! Hermione doesn’t want me there. She’s barely spoken to me in a week.” He kicked at a loose rock. “What do you want me to do?” he snapped. “Barge in there and force her to talk to me?”

“Well, it might help. She probably wants to talk to you, but doesn’t-”

“Oh, and you know so much about what Hermione wants, do you?”

“I think I know Hermione pretty well,” Harry shot back. “And even if I didn’t, I’d know she’d be in a panic. Even Ginny would be, and she’s not nearly as emotional as Hermione-”

“Ginny better not ever be in a panic about this,” Ron interrupted, his voice suddenly cold.

“Oh leave it, Ron. I didn’t mean that-”

“Yeah, well you’d better not, Harry.”

“You know, Ron,” Harry said, just barely keeping his temper in check now, “what Ginny and I do really isn’t any of your business.”

“She’s my sister!”

“Hermione’s as good as, and I don’t go around telling you what to do.”

“Well, if she’s such a sister to you, maybe you should have!”

Harry stared at his friend; he could feel Levi fidgeting against his stomach. “You’re trying to make this out to be my fault?” Harry asked, his fingers splaying over his own chest. “It’s my fault you were irresponsible enough to get Hermione pregnant?”

“Maybe!” Ron shouted. “Maybe she’s pregnant! Haven’t you been listening? We don’t know!”

“You only don’t know because you won’t go with Hermione to find out!” Harry retorted as Levi shot out of his pocket; his wings beat the air as he soared above Harry’s head.

“She told me not to come!”

“Go anyway!” Harry shouted, his volume now matching Ron’s. “Stop being a selfish prick and think about Hermione for a minute.”

“I can’t!” Ron yelled; he was tearing at his windbreaker. “I can’t, Harry! I just-” All the heat deflated out of him and he plopped onto the third step. Above them, Levi was making slow circuits—circling his prey, Harry thought without humor.

“I don’t know what to do… Merlin, Harry-” Ron looked up desperately, “-how did this happen?”

Well, obviously, they both knew exactly how it had happened... Harry shook his head, searching for something to say that would make Ron feel better—as if anything could make this better.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, settling for easy. Ron dropped his head again; he pressed his toe into the soft grass.

“You really think I should go there?” he finally asked, the words timid. Harry glanced up at his familiar; Levi was circling lower.

“I think this is just as much your problem as it is hers,” he answered quietly; he lowered himself slowly to sit beside Ron.

“I know,” Ron whispered. He hunched low over his knees. “I can’t have a kid, Harry…”

Harry watched his friend, as Ron hung his head in his hands. Tentatively, Harry put a hand on Ron’s shoulder. He squeezed briefly and let his hand fall back to his leg. Then he simply sat there next to his friend, because he had no idea what else to do.

--

Hours later, after Ron had left to ask one of his brothers to take him to Hermione’s house, Harry stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, absent-mindedly stroking Levi’s head. Levi nuzzled his chest when Harry paused—the Floo had activated. Harry took up the methodical petting again, knowing he should probably go out and tell his dad he was here—even without Voldemort lurking in the shadows, Severus never seemed to stop worrying.

Harry turned his head—a bit surprised when he heard his father’s footsteps coming down the hall. And as if he knew Harry would be there, Severus stopped in front of Harry’s open door. He was frowning.

“Was the meeting that bad?” Harry asked.

“It was tedious, yes,” Severus answered as he stepped into the room. After a slight hesitation, Severus pulled the chair from Harry’s desk and sat down. Harry furrowed his brow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“The entire staff heard your exchange with Ron.”

Harry’s eyes widened; in one smooth movement, he scooped Levi off his chest and sat up. “What? How?”

“The windows were open in the headmaster’s office,” Severus explained. “And both of you were yelling loudly enough to be heard well beyond the Shrieking Shack, I imagine.”

Harry grimaced. “You heard all of it…?”

“Enough that Poppy decided to contact your friends' parents.”

“What?” Harry very nearly shouted; Levi’s wings fluttered nervously against Harry’s closed fist. Harry relaxed his tight grip, and Levi quickly traversed the length of his arm. “She can’t do that.”

“She is rightfully concerned about Hermione.”

“But if Hermione is…” He tried not to let the word bother him, but he couldn’t, “…she’ll tell her parents.”

“Poppy was not to be dissuaded.” Severus held up a hand when Harry tried to interject. “I did not come in solely to speak with you about Hermione.”

Harry closed his mouth, and waited—impatiently—for his father to continue.

“I realize the subject makes you uncomfortable,” Severus began, in the calm tones that never failed to make Harry nervous. “However, in light of the situation which your friends find themselves in, I would like to discuss your relationship with Ginny.”

Harry sighed. “We’ve already discussed it—more than once,” he pointed out.

“Our last conversation on the topic was two months ago.”

And unlike that particular conversation, Harry didn’t flush as his father gazed expectantly at him. Probably because he’d spent the last few hours, talking to Levi about Ginny—and Ron and Hermione—and about how glad he was that he and Ginny had not yet crossed that last barrier.

“Nothing’s changed since then,” Harry said, rather amazed that his voice came out nearly as evenly as his father’s had.

Severus’ face relaxed. And realizing that his father had believed otherwise—probably from Ron’s angry comments—Harry flushed, after all.

“Everyone heard that as well…”

“I do not think anyone else gave as much consideration to that aspect of your exchange with Ron,” Severus reassured him. “Did Ron leave when you left the steps?” he asked, when Harry didn’t respond.

“Yeah. He went to his brothers’ shop—to ask one of them to take him to Hermione’s house.”

“You were right to suggest he go.”

Harry grimaced. “I hope so.”

Levi nudged his neck, that odd purring sound starting up again. Harry turned his head toward Levi and smiled. “Not sure if he’s hungry when he does that or if he wants to play… actually I don’t even know if kylaria play.”

“He seems to be attempting to make you feel better,” Severus mused as Levi nudged Harry again. "Kylaria have been known to have empathetic abilities.”

Harry put his hand out, and Levi hopped into his palm. “Did you talk to Hagrid about the cave?” he asked as he scratched lightly under the kylaria’s snout.

“Yes. He suggested we hollow out a large rock for him—which can be done with magic. Hagrid volunteered to help ‘decorate’ it, as he put it.”

Harry smiled. “We’ll have to add some sort of water source as well.” Pince’s book had said that the kylaria was an aquatic dragon—and Levi had very much enjoyed a swim in the sink earlier this morning.

“Hagrid suggested a waterfall, since the kylaria was found near one.” Severus shook his head slightly. “He also asked—three times—that you bring Levi to dinner this evening. He was most anxious to meet him.”

Harry nodded slowly, trying to figure out how they’d create a waterfall. Levi seemed to know he was the subject of the conversation now; he was gazing at Severus, as if he was absorbing every word. His wings spread a little as he curled up in Harry’s palm, his tail twitching lightly, and tickling Harry’s skin.

“When do we need to go upstairs?” Harry asked. “Do we have time to look for a rock?” He needed to do something, so that he would stop thinking about Ron and Hermione. And understanding the unspoken need, Severus nodded without hesitation.

“There are rocks, which should be large enough, near the lake.”

--

“Do you think Hermione will be able to finish school… if she is going to have a baby?” Harry asked ten minutes later, as they walked, with Levi flying overhead, toward the lake. He waved as he spied Hagrid, kneeling in the sand, and already sorting through a piled group of large rocks.

“I believe Hermione would insist upon it,” Severus answered.

“I don’t think Ron will be able to deal with it—if she is. He was really upset when he left… quieter than I’ve ever seen him.”

Severus stopped walking. Harry stopped as well, and looked up at him, squinting against the sun. “He will have no choice,” Severus said gravely. “Having a child will change Ron’s life substantially.”

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

“This is what I meant,” Severus continued, his somber gaze unwavering, “when I expressed a desire for you to wait to become with intimate with Ginny until you are ready. The possible consequences are simply too life-altering to take the step lightly.”

Harry swallowed, his mind going to Ginny—as it had during most of the afternoon. “Yeah,” he said as he switched his gaze toward Hagrid, who was waving them over. But even as they picked their way across the pebble-strewn sand, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Ron—slumped on the bottom step, with his head hanging in his hands.

1997 

Harry had been staring at the fireplace since he and his dad had returned from the staff dinner.

Granted, they’d only returned twenty minutes ago, but already the embers in the grate were beginning to take on blurry shapes that obviously couldn’t exist.

“Perhaps you should Floo one of them,” Severus suggested as he turned the page in his Potions journal.

“I’m afraid to,” Harry said with a sigh. At his father’s raised brow, he explained, “If Mrs. Weasley knows about it, she’s probably upset.”

“She will not be upset with you, however.”

Harry actually wasn’t so certain. At the very least, both Weasley parents would probably be watching him with a gimlet eye from now on.

“Would you like to finish preparing Levi’s cave?” Severus asked, setting his journal aside.

Harry glanced over at the hollowed out rock, which was sitting on the table next to the fireplace. Levi lifted his head from where it was resting on Harry’s shoulder and followed Harry’s gaze. The familiar made a noise—a bit like a yip. Harry smiled.

“I think he’s anxious to move in,” he said, holding out his palm so that Levi would jump into it.

His lip quirked in amusement, Severus followed Harry and his familiar to the table. Harry deposited Levi on the top of his ‘cave’, and the little kylaria immediately clamped his claws around the edge of the rock, and turned himself nearly upside down so that he could peer inside.

“Careful,” Harry said automatically; Levi raised his head a bit, he widened his eyes a little and then went back to peering inside. Harry chuckled as he picked up a clump of the moss that Hagrid had given to them. He applied a Sticking Spell so that it was affixed to the stone floor. Levi purred approvingly. “It’ll make a nice bed,” Harry told him. Levi took that in and then stepped back from the edge. He picked his way across the smooth rock face toward Severus.

Severus and Hagrid had carved the large rock, so that there was a lower level outside the hollowed portion. A crater had been carved into that lower portion so that Levi could have his lake.

Levi watched with interest as Severus filled the kylaria-sized lake with his wand tip.

“Is that really going to work?” Harry asked curiously as he bent his head beside his dad, once the lake was full.

“Would you like to do it yourself? It is not difficult.”

“Yeah?” Harry drew his wand at Severus’ nod.

“Place your wand tip against the top of the rock; at the edge of where it drops off and into the lake,” Severus directed. “The spell is Estus… it will melt the rock in whatever shape you define. An oblong will work best.”

“All right,” Harry acknowledged with a nod. “Step back, Levi.” Levi hopped backward. Harry pursed his lips and put the tip of his wand against the rock. “Estus,” he chanted, and drew an invisible oblong along the surface, about the same width as the lake.

With a sizzle, the rock face began to glow. Harry, Severus and Levi watched as the rock disappeared, layer by layer. Severus had already made a similar incision at the base of lake, and a bit of water drained into the newly created, vertical shaft.

Severus uttered a spell and Harry grinned as water burbled up the shaft, to spill over the edge of the rock face and splash down again in the lake.

“Brilliant.”

Levi seemed to concur. His wings flapping excitedly, he hopped into the lake, and began splashing happily under the waterfall, shaking his head and sending water spraying in every direction.

Harry’s chuckles were cut short by the Floo. Green flames roared, and two seconds later, Ginny’s head came through. Harry immediately frowned as he stepped over to the fireplace; her features were drawn—her eyes bloodshot.

“Ginny? Are you all right?” he asked as he dropped to his knees; out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father slipping into the corridor.

“I’m all right,” Ginny said; she sighed. “Hermione’s not pregnant-” Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed gustily in relief. “-but she’s pretty upset. Do you think you could ask your dad to take you to see her tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course…” He frowned. “Wouldn’t she rather Ron… or you-”

Ginny shook her head jerkily. “We can’t,” she said quickly. Harry leaned toward her, ignoring Levi as he flew over and perched on his shoulder; cold water seeped through Harry’s shirt. Ginny’s fiery brows scrunched together.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry said, feeling impatient to get to whatever was bothering Ginny. “He’s a kylaria, and he chose me as his familiar. His name’s Levi.” Levi had craned his neck so that he was peering at Ginny, but he backed up swiftly as Harry made a move to jostle him down his arm. He made a soft hissing sound.

“Is he all right?” Ginny asked, looking confused.

“He’s wary of strangers. She’s my girlfriend, Levi,” he told his familiar, but Levi stayed put, close to Harry’s ear. Harry sighed and turned his attention back to Ginny. “Gin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Harry,” she said, her voice wobbling just a little. She glanced behind her and bit her bottom lip. “Harry, I have to be quick, but when Ron and George came, everything sort of tumbled out, Ron was in such a state.” Harry grimaced at the thought of Ron’s dad and Hermione’s parents overhearing. “Dad and Mum are pretty upset, Mum especially, and she insisted that we go away for a little while.”

“Go away?” Harry echoed. “Why?”

Ginny shook her head. “Hermione’s father told Ron that he couldn’t see her again—he started yelling at Dad too, and well, Mum went a little mad when we got back. Ron was really rattled—just standing there staring at nothing and Dad was too quiet—Mr. Granger really lit into him and Ron. So Mum had the whole story out of them almost before Dad could sit down. She wants to take us somewhere quiet, so that Ron can separate himself from the situation, I guess…”

Ginny took a deep breath before she glanced down, while Harry tried to process all the information he had just heard. When Ginny looked at Harry again, her face was expressionless. “And she said she wants me to have some space from you as well.”

“Me?”

Fingers came through the fire and tapped Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny twisted around briefly. “I have to go,” she said when she turned back around.

“Wait!” Harry blurted. “Can’t you talk for just a few more minutes? When are you leaving… and why would your mum want you to-”

“She’s anxious, Harry,” Ginny interrupted him quietly--apologetically. “I don’t think she was expecting this. And she’s worried now—about you and me…”

Harry could feel his brow crumpling with confusion. “Can you just step through for a minute—my dad’s here if that will make your mum feel-”

“I can’t,” Ginny said quickly, shaking her head.

“Can I step through then?” Harry asked, inwardly wincing as his request came out with more desperation than he had intended. “Just for a minute, to speak with you… and Ron as well.”

Ginny didn’t immediately agree, and Harry couldn’t help but frown at her. What the hell was going on?

“I’ll ask,” Ginny finally said. She pulled her head back through the flames, leaving a very confused Harry staring at the green fire. When had Mrs. Weasley ever not welcomed him?

Ginny’s head popped back through a moment later. “Mum says you can step through, but just for a few minutes… we have a lot to do, she says, since we’re leaving in the morning.”

Harry nodded, starting to wish he hadn’t insisted on coming through. It seemed the Weasleys reaction was going to be worse than a simple wary eye.

After shooing a very disgruntled Levi away from the fireplace and calling out to his father that he was stepping through to the Weasleys, Harry ducked through the flames.

Ginny, with a solid wall of parents behind her, was waiting for him.

“Hi…” Harry said, feeling a nervousness he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d visited the Weasleys.

“How are you, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked, a bit stiffly, as far as Harry could tell. And Mr. Weasley’s smile was strained—though that could have easily had more to do with Ron’s current predicament, than with him.

Unnerved though, Harry could only nod a greeting.

“Ron is upstairs,” Mrs. Weasley said, “with the twins.”

“Oh…” Harry cleared his throat. “Would it be all right if I spoke to Ginny for a few minutes first?”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley glanced at one another.

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley finally said. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Mr. Weasley hesitated, but after a few seconds he turned and followed his wife into the kitchen.

“Gin?” Harry prodded quietly, as soon as they were left alone; he wanted to reach out and hug her—at least hold her hand, but Harry had the impression that she would pull away. “Did I-” He’d never had to ask this particular question before.”-do something?”

Ginny’s straight-backed posture relaxed somewhat and, thankfully, she smiled. “Of course not, Harry,” she said. But still, she made no move to come closer—to touch him in any way.

“Something’s bothering you… What is it, Gin?” Harry asked quietly, genuinely worried.

Ginny sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry. But Mum and Dad were so upset, and they were talking about me—and us—and I guess I’m feeling a little unsettled by everything.”

Harry could certainly understand that. He smiled at her and reached out for her hand; hers came forward automatically, but instead of her fingers coming to intertwine with his, they hung limply in his hand.

“My parents…” she murmured, glancing over Harry’s shoulder; Harry let her hand go, slowly.

“Did they… ask you about us?” he asked, grasping for something to fill the silence.

Ginny’s cheeks immediately pinked.

“They were concerned, as they put it,” she said softly. Harry watched her hands twisting the little Snitch nestled in the hollow of her throat. “Mum and I had a long talk,” she added with a grimace.

“And you told her that we hadn’t done anything yet?” Harry asked, suddenly really wanting Ginny’s parents to understand that much.

Ginny nodded. Her hand wrapped entirely around the little Snitch. “It was the ‘yet’ part that had she was concerned about…”

No longer able to stand not touching her, Harry brushed her hair back from her cheeks. Ginny smiled a little, and Harry was encouraged enough to say, “We don’t have to do anything, Ginny.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I tried to tell Mum that…”

“Tried?”

Ginny shrugged. “She said she thinks we’re too young to be so serious.”

That was news to Harry.

“It’s getting quite late, Ginny,” Mr. Weasley interrupted as he came back into the room. “If you would like to visit with Ron, Harry, you'd best go on up now.”

Harry nodded glumly. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Weasley looked like he wanted to say something, but he only nodded and turned back to the kitchen.

“I’ll write you,” Ginny said. She reached up slowly and touched his cheek gently with her fingertips.

Harry chest constricted as her hand dropped back to her side.

“Where are you going?” The question came out gruffer than he’d intended.

“To visit Charlie… Fred and George are coming for a few days.”

Harry shifted in front of Ginny, wondering why he suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. But Mum mentioned something about sending me to Beauxbatons Academy. Only girls, you know…” Ginny smile wavered.

That was singularly not funny, and Harry made no attempt to smile.

“Ginny, dear, it’s time to get ready for bed,” Mrs. Weasley called out.

“It’s not even ten o’clock, Mum.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said quickly, turning around so that neither one of Ginny’s parents would have any reason to rebuke Ginny. And since both of them were watching them—much too intently for Harry’s tastes, he had to settle for a simple goodbye.

Ginny didn’t seem to mind.

“Is it all right if I go upstairs?” Harry asked stiffly when he’d turned away.

“Of course, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, nodding toward the stairs.

Harry thanked her and trudged up the steps. Ron’s door was closed, so he knocked lightly. The door swung open. Fred frowned down at him.

“Wotcher,” Harry said, without much enthusiasm.

“I thought Ginny was just going to speak with you through the Floo.”

“She did,” Harry said, hearing the edge in his voice, but not caring much about it. “I wanted to speak to Ron.”

“Just let him in, Fred,” Ron’s weary voice floated out from somewhere behind George. “I already told you he hasn’t done anything to Ginny.”

To her?

Harry scowled.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?” he asked sourly as Fred moved aside. “I’ve been dating Ginny for almost a year now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded George.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Harry snapped. “We’ve been together this entire time, and nobody’s treated me like I’m some sort of pervert before.”

“We’re just looking out for our little sister,” Fred said, with a scowl to match Harry’s.

It took Harry a moment to respond; the unspoken accusation was more than a little painful. “I would never hurt Ginny.”

“You wouldn’t mean to,” George said, leaning forward. “And I know you’re a good sort, but Ron’s not so bad himself, and he came very close to hurting Hermione.”

Ron groaned; he was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. George glanced back at him, and fell silent.

Since Ron didn’t seem particularly angry with him about Ginny, Harry stepped toward the bed.

“What happened, mate?” he asked quietly. “How did everyone find out?”

Ron continued to stare at the ceiling. “Hermione’s parents were a bit confused when George and I just arrived so suddenly.”

“And even more so when you kept apologizing,” George interjected; Ron shrugged.

“Hermione told me that everything was fine, and I was a bit stunned…”

“Stared at her for almost a full minute,” George clarified.

“Hermione’s dad asked what was going on, and it turns out that Hermione can’t lie very well to her father.”

“It didn’t help that you kept asking her if she was certain-”

“Shut it, George,” Ron muttered without heat; George complied.

Nobody spoke.

“Ginny asked me to visit Hermione tomorrow,” Harry finally said. Ron’s gaze found his.

“Are you going to?”

Did Ron really have to ask?

“Yeah.”

Ron swallowed. “Make sure she’s all right for me, would you?”

Harry nodded.

Ron’s eyes went back to the ceiling.

Again, there was silence, and once it began to eat at him, Harry turned away.

“Harry?” Ron called out quietly as Harry reached the door.

Harry turned, his hand on the door; looking at Ron expectantly.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” was all Harry could find to say. Three Weasley brothers gazed back at him, and Harry let himself out.

Harry went slowly back down the stairs, his eyes flicking to Ginny’s closed door as he passed it. His footsteps heavy, he finished treading down the creaky stairs; he froze on the last step, his insides twisting.

His father was sitting stiffly in one of the chairs surrounding the table. Mrs. Weasley was pouring him a cup of tea.

The three adults looked up as Harry stepped into the room.

Remain calm, Severus’ flame abruptly warned, and Harry wanted to make a mad dash for the Floo.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing him forward, “won’t you sit down? We’d like to speak with you for a few moments.”

Harry sat beside his father; he did his best not to fidget.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Harry murmured.

Mrs. Weasley set the tea kettle down and sat beside her husband.

“We thought,” she began in a brisk sort of voice, “that since you were here, Harry, we would invite your father as well. To discuss you and Ginny.”

Harry nodded. What else could he do? He certainly couldn’t tell Mrs. Weasley that he’d heard quite enough silent threats and insinuations for one night, thank you very much. Mrs. Weasley smiled at him.

“Perhaps, if you wish to speak about Harry’s relationship with Ginny, she should be present as well,” Severus said, and Harry could tell by both his posture and his tone that he was considerably displeased to be here.

“Ginny and I have spoken extensively this evening,” Mrs. Weasley assured him. “Arthur and I,” she continued, glancing at her husband, “are concerned that Harry and Ginny have become a little too serious…”

“…for ones their age,” Mr. Weasley murmured.

“Yes, and as I’m certain you realize,” Mrs. Weasley addressed Severus, “Ginny is only fifteen-”

“I am well aware of Ginny’s age, yes.”

“Then you’ll agree,” Mrs. Weasley said smoothly, seemingly unruffled by Severus’ curt tone, “that the children are much too young to be exclusive with one another.”

Harry’s insides jumped.

“Harry has always been a complete gentleman toward your daughter,” Severus said. “I have no doubt that he will continue to do so.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyebrows climbed toward her sweep of red fringe. “Why then, if I may ask, did you teach him how to perform a Contraceptive Charm?”

“I do believe,” Severus retorted quietly, “that Arthur taught the same charm to your sons, has he not?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said stoutly, “and do you see where that’s led us today? Hermione and Ron nearly ruining their lives.”

“And you believe they would have practiced abstinence had Arthur withheld information from Ron?” Severus asked, and Harry knew neither of the Weasleys could miss the scorn in the question.

“If they hadn’t had such easy access-”

“They would have found the information elsewhere,” Severus cut Mrs. Weasley off.

That seemed to take Mrs. Weasley off her course a bit, but then she shook her head firmly. “By teaching Harry that charm, it’s as if you’ve given your assent, and I wonder, Severus, if that was your intent?”

Severus gazed at Mrs. Weasley, his eyes narrowed, for a moment before turning his head abruptly to Mr. Weasley.

“Tell me, Arthur, why did you teach your sons the Contraceptive Charm?”

Mr. Weasley glanced at his wife, who pursed her lips at him.

“That is not the point, Severus,” she stressed. “Harry and Ginny are entirely too young to be so focused on each other. They are only children still, and both have so much growing up to do.”

Harry’s couldn’t seem to stop his teeth from grinding together.

“I will not deny that liaisons between teenagers are generally not a wise idea,” Severus said, a definite edge to his voice this time. “However,” he added when Mrs. Weasley nodded crisply, “I will not agree that it is impossible for teenagers to find a mate while still young.”

“Harry will only be seventeen next month.”

“I am also well aware of my son’s birthday, Molly,” Severus said tightly.

“And have you no concerns at all with his dating Ginny at such a young age?”

“No.”

Severus’ jaw was clenched as tightly as Harry’s now. Harry, though his anxiety about Mrs. Weasley’s comments was soaring, said quietly, “He and my mum were married right after they graduated,” he said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes still on Severus. “But surely you wouldn’t want that for Harry?”

“And why would I not?” Severus inquired coldly. Mrs. Weasley fell silent; Mr. Weasley had placed a hand over hers. “Are you implying that had I not been so young, I might not have been so irresponsible as to leave my family?”

Mrs. Weasley swallowed, and Harry wondered, for the first time, how many people really believed that his parents could not have loved each other.

“Severus,” Mr. Weasley began.

“You are entitled to your opinion,” Severus interrupted brusquely. Neither of Ginny’s parents replied. “Is it your intention to forbid your daughter from seeing Harry?” Severus asked bluntly.

“Of course not, Severus,” Mr. Weasley said quickly as Harry sucked in a breath; Severus narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“Then what, precisely, is your intention?”

Mrs. Weasley found her voice again. “We’ve made it perfectly plain to Ginny that if we feel things are progressing too quickly in her relationship with Harry, we will intervene.” She turned to Harry, and her expression softened. “We wanted you to understand Harry, that we don’t say that out of anything but concern—for both of you.  And we thought that if you understood how we feel, that you would take more care with Ginny.”

How much more care could he take?

“Yes, ma’am,” was the only appropriate response.

Mrs. Weasley reached out and patted Harry’s hand. “That’s a good boy,” she encouraged with a smile, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to smile back.

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain, but that was cut short as Severus pushed back his chair. “Thank you for the tea,” he said, his tone making it clear that that was all he was thanking them for. Harry stood up, the feeling of numbness that had been spreading through him since Ginny had first put her head through the Floo only worsening as his dad stepped away from the table so that Harry could go into the parlor first.

Harry did, after a quiet farewell to Ginny’s parents. Severus said nothing as he turned to follow Harry into the Floo.

“Snape Quarters—Hogwarts!” he said sharply as he flung the powder down. The Floo spun them away, with more force than it seemed to usually entail, and Harry stumbled over the hearth rug and nearly lost his balance.

His father’s fingers grasped his wrist before he landed face first onto the hard stones.

“Damn it,” Harry muttered. As soon as he was upright again, he sank into one of the chairs. Only then did he notice that Levi had obviously been waiting for them. He soared from his cave to land gracefully in Harry’s hand. Harry brought the little kylaria to his chest; his purring was soothing.

“I assume Hermione does not find herself with child?”

Harry shook his head.

“And Ron was feeling better?”

“Not really. And I think George and Fred would like to use me to test new products—volatile ones.”

Severus scowled.

“Ginny received you?”

Harry tilted his head, wondering at his father’s interrogation. “She was upset.” And didn’t even hug me, he didn’t add.

Severus nodded curtly. He sat opposite Harry. “I was perfectly clear, was I not, when I expressed a desire for you to wait until you are ready, to become intimate with Ginny?”

Harry frowned. “Yes.”

Severus nodded, still scowling.

“Mrs. Weasley shouldn’t have said that about you and mum,” Harry said after a minute.

“Molly Weasley has never been one to keep her opinions to herself.”

“But she had no right to-”

“Do not worry yourself over it,” Severus broke in wearily. “Her opinion is shared by most of wizarding Britain, I quite assure you.”

Harry bit his lip, the confirmation of his earlier ponderings making him angry despite his best effort. But since his father clearly didn’t want to talk about it…

“Ginny’s parents—as well as her brother—may well have calmed down by the time they return,” Severus went on, perhaps misreading Harry’s silence.

“I hope so,” Harry said as Levi’s nuzzled against his shirt. And he hoped Ginny would be feeling better as well, once she returned. She’d been much more rattled than Harry had expected, though after listening to Mrs. Weasley, he supposed he shouldn't be so surprised that she hadn’t hugged him.

--

As he and his dad—and Levi in Harry’s windbreaker again—walked down the unfamiliar, tree-lined street to Hermione’s house the next morning, Harry hoped Hermione wouldn’t mind the visit. But that worry heightened as soon as Hermione answered Harry’s tentative knock.

“Harry?”

“Hi,” Harry said. “I would have sent an owl, but even Hedwig would have taken too long. I hope it’s all right?”

“Oh… of course,” Hermione told him; she glanced at Severus. “Good morning, Professor.”

“Good morning.”

“Come in,” Hermione said as she gestured toward the sitting room that Harry could see just inside.

“How did you get here?” she asked after they’d crossed the threshold. Crookshanks was sitting near the fireplace, watching Harry with a carefully twitching tail.

“My dad used to be apprenticed to a man who lives about a mile away,” Harry said. Though Daniel had already been at his shop when Severus had contacted him that morning, he had urged them to use the Floo whenever they had need.

“Oh,” Hermione said again. When she didn’t add anything further, not even to ask a question or express any curiosity, Harry glanced at his dad. They communicated silently for a moment, his father urging him to go ahead.

“Hermione, is it all right if we talk for a minute?” Harry looked around, not sure where the kitchen might be—he could see only a staircase to his right. “In the kitchen?”

Hermione nodded and turned, but then she turned around so quickly that Harry nearly crashed into her. Leaning around Harry, she said to Severus, “May I get you anything, sir? Some tea or biscuits?”

“No, thank you.”

Hermione bit her lip, but nodded. She gave Harry an uncertain look. He smiled reassuringly at her, and she turned again. She led Harry through a door and into a sunny kitchen. Before the door had closed behind them, Hermione spun around and threw her arms around Harry.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed into his neck.

It took Harry a few seconds to return the hug, and was surprised to find her shaking. “Hermione…”

“Ron told you then?”

“He didn’t mean to.”

Hermione shook her head; her curly hair tickled his nose. “It’s all right.” She dragged in a deep shuddery breath. Harry wasn’t sure what to do, so he patted her back a few times.

“Are you all right?”

Hermione nodded as she pulled away. She took a handkerchief from her pocket. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. “It’s just been so horrible... Oh! You’re shirt!”

“What?”

Hermione halted in mid-reach toward her wand. “Oh… I always forget.”

Harry smiled at that; he had often found himself doing the exact same thing during his summers with the Dursleys. Hermione’s features brightened with a grin briefly, but then her face crumpled.

“Professor Snape knows too, doesn’t he?” She sank onto one of four chairs around the table when Harry nodded.

“I didn’t tell him,” Harry quickly assured her; he sat next to her.

Hermione nodded. “I know. Madame Pomfrey paid a visit last night.” Her cheeks had flushed a faint rose. “She said she had only hoped to speak with me alone. But my parents already knew-” Her voice lowered. “-everything by the time she got here.”

Hermione folded her hands on the tabletop. She was staring at them intently, and Harry didn’t want to interrupt her concentration. Besides he couldn’t think what to add.

“The entire staff knows,” she whispered. “Dumbledore and McGonagall… Hagrid. And even though I’m not pregnant, they all know.” Tears had gathered in her eyes again. She brushed at her eyes. “It was so humiliating, Harry. And my parents were so disappointed—my dad, especially.”

Knowing just how much that could hurt, Harry nodded sympathetically, but still he didn’t interrupt.

“And my dad told Ron he could never see me again.” To Harry, that seemed a bit of an extreme reaction—after all, Ron cared very much about Hermione, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. “My dad is usually so level-headed and fair about things.”

Like you, Harry could have added, but didn’t.

“My mum understood—at least I think she did, but she kept reminding me last night, about all the plans I have after graduation. And how I can’t accomplish everything I want to with a baby.” Hermione hands twisted together. “And she’s right, Harry. What was I thinking?”

“You couldn’t have counted on this happening,” Harry tried to soothe her, but Hermione shook her head.

“Of course I knew it could happen, Harry. And I was really careful. Really I was. I’ve known since I was a little girl that Muggle medicines won't work when a witch or wizard takes them. And I asked one of the seventh year girls to teach me a Contraceptive spell, but all of them use potions, and I couldn’t find any information on the spell in the library, not even when I tried an Accio for a book on sexual reproduction.”

Harry hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, but even if they were, it didn’t detract Hermione.

“Mary gave me a vial of potion. And I followed all her instructions exactly, and I even performed Ron’s charm for him…”

“Hermione!”

Hermione abruptly stopped speaking, maybe because even Harry’s ears were on fire by then.

“Oh…” Hermione put her fingers over her lips; she flushed.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Harry breathed, shaking his head to dispel the images, which he decidedly did not want, of Ron starkers-

“Don’t tell Ron I told you that!”

“I won’t,” Harry assured her quickly.

Hermione pressed her lips together as they tried to twitch, but a few breaths of laughter escaped anyway; it died away quickly, and the two of them sat in contented silence for several long minutes as the sun warmed them.

“Ron was pretty upset,” Harry thought to mention, hoping it wouldn’t make Hermione cry again, but he owed it to his friend.

“I know,” Hermione said softly. “We didn’t leave on very good terms. And my dad said he could never see me again…”

“But he’ll cool down, right?” Harry said reasonably, thinking back to his conversation with his father last night.

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose so…”

Before Harry could ask if she intended to contact Ron—by owl, at least, Hermione reached over and squeezed Harry’s hand.

“I really am glad you came.” Her brown eyes were bright.

Harry shrugged off her gratitude. “I wanted to make sure you were all right, since Ron and Ginny are leaving.”

Hermione smiled, and Harry knew she understood that it was more than that.

“Oh!” Hermione cried softly as Levi backed out of Harry’s pocket and hopped onto the table. “A kylaria?”

Harry grinned, not at all surprised that she had known that.

“Where did you get him?”

“From the man my dad mentioned earlier. He owns a potions shop in Knockturn Alley. He intended to give Levi—that’s his name—to my dad but Levi chose me.”

“He’s adorable, Harry.”

Levi‘s leathery wings fluttered at the praise, and he took a few steps toward Hermione. Hermione held out her hand, and without hesitation, he hopped into her palm. Hermione stroked Levi’s head, down his spiny neck and Levi purred, the sound filling the room.

Hermione’s eyes came up, locking with Harry’s and at the same time, they smiled.

1997 

Harry opened his eyes groggily as Levi’s wings brushed his cheek for the second time. He glared at his familiar and said grumpily, “It’s too early.”

Levi ignored him and hopped onto his head; his claws kneading his scalp lightly. Harry sighed and sat up slowly; Levi’s claws stayed firmly clamped in Harry’s hair.

“It’s my holiday,” he grumbled to the kylaria. Levi simply made his little yipping sound and enjoyed the ride as Harry shuffled down the corridor.

“Good morning,” Severus greeted him from his seat at the table when he entered the sitting room. “I see Levi was successful.”

Harry flopped into the chair across from his dad, eyeing him blearily. “Successful?”

Levi hopped onto Harry’s shoulder and then onto the table.

“Well done,” Severus said to the kylaria as Levi strutted over to him and accepted the pinkie-sized slice of melon. Levi plucked it from Severus’ fingers and flew away to his cave, where he attacked it with verve.

“That was your idea?” Harry asked sourly, turning away from Levi.

“I cannot have you sleeping away your entire summer, after all,” his father said with a small smile.

“You didn’t seem to mind yesterday,” Harry grumbled. “And it’s only the second day of summer holidays.”

“Third,” Severus corrected as he filled a glass with pumpkin juice for Harry. “It is Friday.”

“Like it matters,” Harry muttered.

Severus didn’t respond and Harry hunched down over his plate of eggs. He ate two unappetizing bites before he began stabbing the eggs aimlessly. “Sorry,” he said quietly, not looking up.

“It is at least a two day trip from Romania, for an owl.”

Harry’s eyes came up. His tensed shoulders relaxed as he met his father’s easy gaze. “Right. And there isn’t a Floo connection across water…”

“Molly would likely restrict access, in any case…” Severus said, his eyebrows drawn. When Harry began flattening the eggs with the tines of his fork, he added, “And Ginny has not seen her brother in quite some time, yes?”

“I guess…” The eggs were nothing but little yellow bits now.

“When Ginny returns, I will speak with Molly and Arthur.”

Harry looked up again; his father’s jaw was set.

“It’s not only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley…” Harry swallowed. “Ginny was-” He wasn’t certain how to describe it. “-hesitant, I suppose.”

Severus frowned. “Can you elaborate?”

It sounded stupid, but Harry said it anyway. “She didn’t hug me. She wouldn’t even let me hold her hand.”

“Molly and Arthur were watching the exchange, I presume?”

“That’s never stopped Ginny before," Harry said, shaking his head. He was trying very hard not to be angry at Ginny—it wasn’t her fault her parents were overreacting. Harry let the fork fall from his fingers; it hit the plate with a jarring clatter. “How can they be angry with me?” he demanded as he swiped the full glass of juice from the table. “We didn’t even do anything. Mrs. Weasley told me I needed to take more care with Ginny!” he sputtered indignantly. “As if I go about being a berk to her. And Ron had to reassure Fred and George that I hadn’t done anything to her. To her, Dad!”

Pumpkin juice sloshed over the sides of the short glass as Harry plunked it down. Levi had rejoined the pair, scooting under the collar of Harry’s shirt to purr softly while Harry forced himself to calm down.

“They should not have treated you so poorly,” Severus said in a low voice which seemed in perfect harmony to Levi’s melodious purring, even with the anger beneath the surface. “And all of the Weasleys know better than to believe you would behave poorly toward Ginny. I do not believe Molly was thinking clearly when she spoke to us. She cannot truly believe that her only daughter would be better off with a different suitor. One that would certainly not care for Ginny as much as you do.”

Harry slumped. “But why didn’t Ginny stand up for herself? Everything was all right between us at the train station.”

Harry wasn’t certain why all of this was tumbling out now—except that it had been a very long two days. With nothing but his father’s end of the year inventory to distract him.

“I suspect she had not had enough time to process everything that had happened. Molly and Arthur should have allowed her time to speak with you properly before whisking her away. Her emotions following the events at the Grangers' undoubtedly left her feeling confused.”

Harry stared glumly at the drops of juice dotted across the tabletop. What did Ginny have to feel confused about?

“You could send a letter,” Severus suggested after a moment.

“If they’ll even let her receive mail from me…”

“Would you like me to write to Arthur?”

Harry couldn’t help smiling as he looked up again. “Thanks, but that’s all right. I’ll work on a letter after we work on the inventory. “

His father shook his head though. “You can join me once you have finished.” He gave Harry’s plate a pointed look. “And after you eat.”

Harry sighed and picked up another piece of melon from the platter in the middle of the table. He waggled it in front of Levi’s nose, which was just peeking out from under Harry’s collar. Levi came out quickly, blinked a few times at Harry—perhaps to be certain he was all right, before taking the morsel in his mouth and going back to his cave.

Harry was going to protest that he wasn’t hungry, but his dad was watching him with concern, so Harry picked up the sweet roll that the elves always included on Harry’s plate and took a few bites. The pinched lines around Severus’ eyes smoothed out.

Once Harry had polished off the roll, Severus pushed back his chair and stood up. He summoned a quill and parchment for Harry.

“I will meet you in my classroom,” he said, with a parting squeeze for Harry’s shoulder.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, already turning over what he wanted to say in his head as his dad clasped his robes around his shoulders and stepped out the door.

It took much longer than it should have for Harry to complete the simple letter, which in the end didn’t really say much of anything, except that he missed Ginny, and hoped she was having fun. As letters went, it was rather a lame one.

Harry sighed—it was becoming a habit of late—as he wound a green ribbon around the small scroll.

“Want to come with me?”

Levi, who’d been taking a nap on Harry’s shoulder, peered out from under his wing at Harry’s question.

“You can meet Hedwig.”

Levi narrowed his eyes, as if considering the intelligence of such an idea.

“Come on,” Harry coaxed with a smile. “I’m pretty sure she won’t try to eat you.”

Levi nuzzled his neck.

“Of course I wouldn’t let her,” Harry assured his familiar, and smoothed a finger down Levi’s neck to seal the promise. Levi yipped, and taking that as assent, Harry began the slow climb to the Owlery.

It was very strange to be in the corridors without one of his friends, or his father. The castle seemed so empty. Almost foreign. When Harry finally reached the Owlery, the noisy owls were a welcome relief. Though they quieted as soon as Harry entered—dozens of feathered heads swiveled toward him.

Harry spotted Hedwig right away—her snowy feathers stood out easily amidst the sea of brown and black. She too was staring at Harry. Or Levi, more accurately, Harry could sense. None of the other owls seemed to know what to make of the tiny dragon either.

“Hi girl,” Harry called up to her. Her feathers ruffled a bit, and she made an indignant sort of hooting sound. The same sound she always made if Harry didn’t give her a treat as soon as she’d delivered a letter. “It’s all right, girl,” he told her soothingly.

Hedwig hooted again, and this time, Levi answered back, with his happy yip, his yellow eyes wide and as un-alarming as he could make them. Harry held out his arm encouragingly to his owl. Hedwig inched forward and after another minute of the intent staring between the two familiars, she hooted once more and spread her wings.

She soared gracefully from her perch and landed delicately on Harry’s forearm. Harry stroked her breast.

“Levi,” he said, “this is Hedwig. Hedwig, Levi.”

Maybe it was the way Levi was purring; Hedwig dipped her head slightly, her hooting this time soft and deep—accepting the kylaria, leaving Harry to wonder if Levi’s mood was affecting his owl as it did him.

Levi yipped again and without further ado, he hopped off Harry’s shoulder and onto Harry’s arm beside Hedwig. He nuzzled her wing, and though Harry tensed, afraid his temperamental bird would take offense at the familiarity, Hedwig brought her head toward the Kylaria and chucked him gently under his chin with her beak. Levi simply purred louder.

Harry chuckled. At least something had gone right.

With that settled, Hedwig looked up at Harry, her eyes curious—a little eager. “I have a letter for you to deliver, though it’s a bit of a long trip,” Harry told her. Hedwig chirruped in agreement, nibbling Harry’s fingers as he stroked her again. “Thanks.” He handed her the slice of bacon he’d saved from breakfast, and though it took a little maneuvering with both familiars on his arm, he secured the little scroll to her foot.

Hedwig, after swallowing her treat, hooted once more and took off on her errand. Harry and Levi watcher her until she was out of sight.

“She’s been with me since I came to Hogwarts,” Harry explained to Levi as he turned to leave the Owlery. Levi nudged his neck in response and curled up for the walk back downstairs. Their exit was halted however by a large brown owl, which was just entering the Owlery. It hooted loudly, and instead of finding a perch with the other owls that were resting, he glided down toward Harry. A white, rectangular envelope dropped out of its mouth, and then it turned around and left the way it came.

Harry stared after it quizzically, only bending down to retrieve the envelope—which was made from regular paper, instead of parchment—from the straw on the floor after it was gone.

The envelope was addressed to him—to Harry Potter, rather, in familiar, untidy script.

With his brows furrowed in confusion, Harry tore the envelope open hastily.

Harry,

Mrs. Figg says you’ll be able to receive this by owl… just like the one you used to bring home during the summers. Hers isn’t as grand as yours though. Just one of those ordinary brown sorts. I’m not certain why I’m writing this, really. And I know you’re probably surprised to hear from me. I’m surprised too, I guess. But I didn’t get a chance to speak with you at the train station.

I was hoping we’d be able to speak this summer. Not that we ever did much of that. And you probably don’t really want to talk to me. I’m not sure we actually have much of anything to speak about, I suppose. Not that we ever tried.

Mrs. Figg is watching me as a write this. She’s a bit creepy, to be honest. And she has too many cats, but I guess you know that as well, don’t you? It must have been awful to have to stay here with her.

Look, Harry, I better hurry and finish this—Mrs. Figg’s cats think I’m a scratching post.

I hope you’re doing well. That man you were with, in the car park—you know, the tall one in black—well he looked rather frightening. Not that I would be scared, you understand. But I hope you don’t have to stay with him this summer and that’s why you aren’t coming home.

Mum has hardly spoken since we saw you. I can’t imagine it’s because of you, but it is odd, all the same. Dad keeps saying how grand it is to be rid of you. Honestly though, the house seems strangely empty now. Not sure why.

Anyway, Harry, Mrs. Figg says to say hello for her. She wants to have tea, so I better close now or I will actually have to stay and have some.

Your cousin,

Dudley.

Even after he’d read it through a second time, Harry had no better understanding of what he’d just read.

Dudley had written him a letter.

Dudley.

Of course, the letter didn’t really make much sense, but then Dudley had never really been much for eloquence. Though Harry wouldn’t have thought his cousin to be one to write him a letter either.

“I have no idea,” Harry said to Levi when the kylaria poked his nose at the letter.

Although Dudley hadn’t bothered him during his brief stay in Privet Drive last summer, he certainly hadn’t made any overt gestures of friendships—any gestures at all. Although, perhaps for Dudley, leaving Harry alone could be considered gesture enough.

As Harry read the letter again, he tried to decipher if there was anything he could glean from the rambling, half-thoughts which littered the missive. Except that Vernon wasn’t going to waste a tear over him, and that Petunia had gone oddly quiet, there wasn’t much sense to be made of it.

“Maybe he’s been Imperiused…”

“Who has?”

Harry looked up. “Hi Remus.”

“Hello,” Remus said with a smile, even though Harry hadn't offered one. “And good morning to you, Levi.” Levi purred, and allowed Remus to stroke his neck. “Who’s been Imperiused?” Remus asked again, once Levi was satisfied with the attention.

“Dudley.”

Remus frowned, his head tilted. “Dudley? Your cousin?”

“He wrote me a letter,” Harry explained. Since he couldn’t really explain further, he handed the letter to Remus. Remus raised his eyebrows, as though to ask Harry if he was certain he wanted to share, and at Harry’s nod, Remus read the letter through silently.

“Doesn’t sound like your cousin is very fond of cats,” Remus said with a bemused smile once he’d finished; Harry shrugged. “I didn’t think you and Dudley got along…”

“We didn’t,” Harry said, turning a little so that he could look over the grounds—he could see Hagrid’s hut in the distance; smoke curling happily from the chimney. “He always hated me.”

“It doesn’t sound as if he hates you any longer,” Remus said mildly, turning so that he and Harry were side by side as they leaned against the window ledge.

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t. I didn’t do anything… to make him stop hating me, I mean.”

“Maybe you did, and you don’t realize-”

Harry shook his head, cutting Remus off. “I didn’t see him nearly at all last summer—Dumbledore came to fetch me after only a few weeks at Privet Drive, remember? And I didn’t even speak to him in the car park in London.”

Remus pursed his lips, as he and Harry watched Hagrid and Fang loping into the Forbidden Forest.

“Your cousin was almost Kissed by Dementors, wasn’t he? The summer before fifth year?”

Harry glanced at his friend. “I don’t think even almost losing his soul to Dementors could have changed Dudley that much.”

Remus smiled a little. “Perhaps not, but you remember how you felt when the Dementor affected you on the train, don’t you?”

Harry shivered a little. He would never forget how cold and empty he’d felt when he’d heard the screaming—his mum's screaming, he knew now.

“The worst thing that’s ever happened to Dudley is that he didn’t get enough Christmas presents,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “Whatever he saw or felt when the Dementors attacked couldn’t have been as awful as what I felt.”

“Are you certain of that?” Remus asked quietly, sparing a hand to squeeze Harry's shoulder. “Even someone as pampered as Dudley may have his own demons. Your aunt certainly does…”

That was true, Harry supposed. And Draco Malfoy, the other most pampered kid Harry knew, most definitely carried around more than a few demons of his own.

Harry shook his head though, dismissing Remus’ words. “Dudley and his friends use to play a game called Harry Hunting. Later,” he continued with a shrug for Remus’ wide-eyed look, “when Dudley was too afraid of my magic, he and his gang used to torment the neighborhood children. That sort of person doesn’t just wake up one morning and decide to stop being a bully.”

“Not in one morning, no,” Remus agreed. “But over time, people grow up. Much like James did. Or Sirius…”

Harry turned back to study the forest’s leafy treetops.

Dudley Dursley… like Sirius? Even after everything he and Sirius had gone through before Christmas, Harry couldn’t reconcile the two images. Probably because he didn't want to.

--

It seemed Levi’s purring had gone into overdrive by the time Harry and Remus made their way down from the Owlery to the dungeons; Harry was even grumpier than when the day had started. The kylaria was probably beginning to wish he’d chosen Harry's father—at least he wasn’t moody.

“Absolutely not!”

Severus’ heated voice halted Harry and Remus as they reached the door to the Potions classroom.

“Do not suggest it again, Albus. The next time I see that woman, it shall be in a casket,” Severus’ clipped words reverberated against the stone walls in the corridor. A door—probably to the storage cupboard—slammed loudly.

Remus had taken a step back, his hand on Harry’s sleeve as if to pull him away from the door.

“She’s your mother, Severus-”

Harry pulled his arm from Remus’ grip. He reached to push the door open, but before he could, it was wrenched open for him.

“Yes, I am well aware that I share her genes-”

Severus’ sarcastic words were cut off as he found Harry in the doorway. His eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“Good morning, Harry… Remus,” Dumbledore said calmly from behind Severus, but Harry couldn’t miss the frustration in the old wizard’s eyes. Or perhaps, it was worry.

“Good morning, sir…” Harry said distractedly. “Is something wrong with your mother?” he asked his dad quietly.

“She is dying, Harry-”

“Albus!” Severus spun around to glare at the headmaster.

“Did you plan to keep it from him, Severus?” Dumbledore asked mildly.

“My mother’s health is not your concern."

“You are, however,” Dumbledore said, in a voice that for once, held no riddle. “If you deny yourself the opportunity to see her once more before she dies, you will almost certainly regret it.”

“I will regret not seeing the woman responsible for my wife's death?” There was an edge of fury in the question.

“It is not for Eileen, Severus. Allow yourself to make peace with her passing—for all the years-worth of damage she has wrought on your life.”

Severus’ eyes were narrowed into slits as he glared at the headmaster. “I have no desire to see her—not ever again.”

“Severus, if you are worried about your reaction to her, I can accompany you-”

“I am more than capable of controlling myself.”

“I can go with you, Dad…”

Severus spun around. “No, you may not,” he said sharply.

Harry closed his mouth.

“You are not to go anywhere near St. Mungo’s,” Severus added harshly. “Is that clear?”

Stung, Harry only nodded.

Severus’ jaw tightened, but instead of responding, he glared at Remus. “Was there something you needed?”

“Nothing at all…” Remus said quietly.

“Then if you would excuse me, I have work to do,” Severus said pointedly, including both Remus and Dumbledore in his gaze. Dumbledore sighed.

“Margaret only gives your mother three more days at most-”

“It is three days too many,” Severus said flatly, and then he pivoted on his heel and stalked over to the larger of the two storage cupboards. He pulled the door open with a loud creak, and disappeared inside.

Harry stared at the still-open door until Dumbledore put a wrinkled hand on his arm; Levi had scrambled into Harry’s palm, and he was purring madly against the fisted fingers.

“Why don’t you and Remus come along to tea?” Dumbledore suggested quietly.

Harry hesitated as he drew Levi close to his chest.

“I think your father could use a few minutes to himself,” Dumbledore assured him. To Remus said, “It is little Sirius’ naptime, I think?”

Remus nodded.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said with a smile. He put a hand on Harry’s slumped shoulder and guided Harry from his father’s classroom. “I’m certain I can persuade Dobby to send up some of those lemon biscuits you’re so found of, Harry. And then you can tell me all about what you plan to write in your letter to Dudley.”

1978

“My deepest sympathies, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly.

Sympathies? Severus wanted to sneer. Sympathies for what, exactly? That my father didn’t die years ago, perhaps before he broke my nose?

“Thank you, sir,” Severus said to the expectant headmaster. Dumbledore smiled kindly.

“As soon as you can gather your things, I will Apparate you home. Your mother is expecting you as soon as possible.”

“That will not be necessary, sir.”

Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow behind his spectacles. “You haven’t yet managed to Apparate as far as Snape Manor, have you?”

“No, sir,” Severus answered, technically in truth. He had never had any reason to Apparate to his father’s home since he’d acquired his license, though he had Apparated distances that would have been equally as far. “I will not be attending the funeral.”

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change; he folded his aged hands on the desk. Severus stiffened, readying himself for the arguments he knew would be forthcoming.

“I do not blame you for not wanting to attend your father’s funeral,” Dumbledore said with a solemn nod; Severus did not relax his posture. “Among pureblood wizards, it is a grave dishonor for a child to snub his parent’s final parting, is it not?”

Severus said nothing, knowing the headmaster already knew the answer.

“I know there was no love lost between you and your father, and I know you have no wish to see your mother either.” Dumbledore stood up and came to stand in front of his desk—right in front of Severus. “And neither do I disagree that you are right to feel the way you do, Severus,” he said gently. “I have spent the past three years doing all that I could do to help you distance yourself from your father’s influences.”

Severus wished he could turn away from the caring blue eyes.

“I ask you to reconsider, however,” Dumbledore went on quietly. He held up a wizened hand when Severus would have interrupted. “Not for Tobias or Eileen, but for you, Severus.” He placed a hand on Severus’ shoulder, and Severus had to force himself not to flinch away. “You need to allow yourself to grieve, in whatever form it may take—even if only to mourn the father you wish you had had.”

Severus could feel his fingers trembling against his robes. When he didn’t offer a dissent, Dumbledore nodded and let his hand fall.

“I will remain with you through the funeral, of course, as it will no doubt be attended by man y of your father’s associates.” Dumbledore said the word delicately, as if Severus was still as innocent as a first year Hufflepuff.

“Thank you, sir,” Severus said as politely as he could manage, “but I will not be attending.”

“Severus-” Dumbledore began gently.

“I will need to send a reply to my mother immediately,” Severus said, as if that task itself would cause him pain. He looked pointedly at his mother’s letter, still in Dumbledore’s hand.

Dumbledore hesitated before giving it over. Severus tucked it into his pocket without looking at it.

“Perhaps after you’ve had the night to sleep on it,” Dumbledore said quietly.

“No sir,” was all that Severus said, his voice crisp, and probably a tad impatient as well.

Dumbledore stared at him for long minutes, his eyes conveying disappointment as only he could. “I’ll be in my office all morning, should you change your mind,” he finally said.

Severus nodded, not meaning it all; if he could help it, he would never step foot on his family estate again.

Twenty minutes later, Severus was standing on the top step of the Owlery, staring at the sun as it dusted red on the horizon.

He turned his head at the sound of familiar laughter from below. He watched as two forms crested the hill from the gamekeeper’s hut. Unmistakable hair—darkening to crimson in the waning light, alongside the equally unmistakable unkempt black head of hair that could only belong to James Potter. Severus’ jaw tightened as his eyes zeroed in on Lily’s small hand, which was tucked in Potter’s as they navigated the large rocks atop the hill.

Lily looked up as she straightened; their eyes connected and a smile immediately lit Lily’s face. Potter’s head came up as well; his face darkened. Lily tugged her hand from Potter’s, said something which Severus had no hope of hearing. Potter nodded, responded—all while scowling at Severus—and then turned and kept on walking toward the castle. Lily, still smiling, jogged toward the Owlery.

Severus went back to staring toward the horizon, his entire body tense. He didn’t relax, even as Lily’s arms came around his waist.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked softly as she stretched to kiss his neck.

Severus pressed his lips together.

“Sev?”

“Why were you with Potter?” he finally asked; thoughts of his parents were easily pushed aside.

“I wasn’t with James,” Lily said, her lips still against his hair. “He delivered something to Hagrid while I was visiting.” She slipped around so that she was facing him. “Were you sending a letter to someone?” she asked when Severus didn’t move.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon; Severus could see the twinkle of candlelight from Hagrid’s small hut.

“You were holding his hand.” The stiff accusation felt foreign on his lips, but the dull ache of anger in the pit of his stomach was beginning to consume him.

Lily’s hands found his face again; this time they tilted it down so that Severus had no choice but to look at her. The deep emerald of her irises was even more beautiful in the twilight.

“He was helping me over the rocks, Sev,” she said quietly—firmly. “Now, what’s going on?”

Anger he couldn’t place made way for inexplicable betrayal which had nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but the feeling was so raw, Severus didn’t know what to do with it; he could feel his lips scowling—the line of his jaw firming as he gazed down at Lily. Lily frowned as she took in his expression. Her hands dropped.

“I hope you don’t expect me to apologize for being with James,” she told him, anger in her voice now as well. Severus did not expect that, but he said nothing. Lily’s scowl almost certainly matched his by now.

She turned away; the anger slipped silently toward fear.

Severus reached his hand out; his fingers brushed against Lily’s.

“Lily…”

Lily’s fingers tightened in his even before she had fully turned back.

“I-” Severus’ fell silent; unable to apologize, or to explain. He shouldn’t feel anger. Not for his father’s death. There should be no grief. He hated Tobias now—today—as much as he always had.

Lily stepped toward him, her other hand coming up to caress his face; her frown was full of concern now. “What’s wrong?”

Severus closed his eyes at her touch, relief flooding him; he did not deserve to be treated so well.

“Sev?”

Severus drew a long, slow breath through his nostrils; wondering, as he did, if it would have felt different through a nose that had never been broken. He opened his eyes and looked down into Lily’s worried eyes. “My father died.”

Without a word, Lily put her arms around his neck, and tucked herself close. Severus’ eyes opened as his arms came around her, fitting her to his chest as tightly as he could. Lily didn’t offer any inane, meaningless platitudes. She didn’t ask him if he planned to go to the funeral, or insist that he must allow himself to grieve. Instead, she stretched up on her toes and buried her lips against his neck, kissing him tenderly. And then she simply held him, her fingers imparting comfort in his hair, and against his back.

They stayed on the top step of the Owlery long after the sun set.

And they stood there again in the morning, with Lily’s arms securely around him, while Severus’ father was laid to rest, many kilometers away.

--

1997

While things hadn’t exactly been strained between Harry and Severus since yesterday, Harry thought he’d never known his father to be quite this quiet. He’d brewed through most of the previous evening, and as Harry came into the sitting room, well past ten o’clock the next morning—Severus hadn’t woken him—with his hair damp after his morning shower, he could see his father was once again hovering over a misty cauldron; Severus didn’t look up at Harry’s footfalls.

Hesitating only briefly, Harry went to the Floo and ordered breakfast for both of them. The food arrived on the table moments later. Harry stood in the doorway for several silent minutes as he watched his father; he was involved in an extremely complicated series of alternating slicing, plopping and stirring. When Severus finally set the glass stirring rod down, and looked up, he seemed surprised to find Harry watching him.

“Morning,” Harry murmured. “I ordered breakfast for us.”

“Good morning.” Severus glanced over Harry’s shoulder at the clock on the mantel, before taking several vials off the counter and upending them simultaneously into the bubbling cauldron. “I had breakfast several hours ago,” he said as he sent the empty vials to the sink.

“Oh.” He should have realized, since it was so late. But this was the first time since he’d moved into his father’s quarters that they hadn’t shared their morning meal, unless of course they’d both eaten in the Great Hall.

Harry watched Severus stir eleven times clockwise, and four times counter-clockwise before he said, “I guess I’ll go eat then…”

Severus nodded, still concentrating on the potion.

Knowing he was being overly sensitive, and not particularly caring, Harry frowned at the top of his father’s bent head. When no other comments were forthcoming, he turned and went over to the table, ignoring Levi’s curious prods to his neck.

Harry sat there, poking at his crumpet with the knife he’d used to slather it with raspberry preserves. Levi was alternating his gaze between Harry and the lab, where Severus was now pounding something in a mortar.

Harry wanted to bring up his father’s mum again—his own grandmother. What an odd thought…

But when Harry had tried to broach the subject last night, Severus had been unusually curt—again, and since Harry wasn’t anxious to be snapped at for a third time, they’d gone the remainder of the night in near silence. It looked like today was to be more of the same.

He was suddenly at lot lonelier for Ginny. Even Ron in a temper would be welcome. And if Harry hadn’t thought that his father would say no, he would have asked to visit Hermione again. Perhaps he could ask Remus or Dumbledore to Apparate him there. Hermione’s house really needed to be connected to the Floo Network…

Once his crumpet was hacked to pieces by the jam-swathed knife, Harry pushed his chair away from the table. Levi growled in protest when the food was whisked away by the elves—including Levi’s plate of fruit. Harry sighed and ordered another plate for his familiar. This time, Levi secreted away to his cave, carrying as many slices of melon in his claws as he could manage.

Harry went back to his father’s lab, and watched Severus cracking a hawk’s egg into his brew; half the shell followed suit.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly; Severus looked up, once again looking surprised that Harry was standing there.

“Did you eat?” he asked as he stirred the rapidly boiling concoction inside the dark cauldron.

“Yeah.” The two bites of crumpet he’d chewed and swallowed, surely counted. “Will you be ready to work on the inventory soon?” Harry asked. Severus glanced around at the merrily bubbling cauldrons... actually, one of the ones in the back of the room seemed to be hissing…

“I should not leave this one unattended for several more hours,” Severus said. “The inventory will keep until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Harry tried not to allow his disappointment to show, especially when his father didn’t suggest Harry help him, though Harry knew he could have offered… “I guess I’ll go fly for a bit. Unless… you need help…?”

Severus’ eyes came up again, more swiftly than the last time. He narrowed his eyes, studying Harry. Before he could speak though, the Floo roared. Harry turned. Dumbledore smiled out at him.

“Good morning, Harry,” he said cheerfully. “How are you?”

“Well, sir.” It didn’t much matter that it was a lie.

“Excellent. Is your father available?”

Severus was already stepping around Harry.

“Ah, Severus. Wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

“It is tolerable,” Severus allowed as he stepped to the fireplace; Harry drifted toward the sofa. “Did you wish to step through, Albus?” Severus said impatiently. “I am brewing.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “No, no, that’s all right, Severus. I have a visitor, waiting to speak with you.”

“A visitor?” Severus echoed ominously.

“No need to become anxious,” Dumbledore assured. “Since you declined to see your mother, the Healer assigned to her case has come to call—to discuss your mother’s final wishes.”

Harry noticed the slight stiffening of his father’s spine. It seemed Dumbledore noticed it as well.

“Whether or not you have denounced her,” he said gently, “you are still her last living relative. You have several decisions to make.”

When Severus said nothing, Dumbledore said in a very soft voice—almost too soft for Harry to hear, “It is Margaret Blunt.”

There was another moment of silence, before Severus nodded brusquely. Harry saw Dumbledore smiling—looking vastly relieved and then the old wizard pulled his head back through the flames. Severus waved his wand at the fireplace, and ordered it to allow the healer entrance. Harry stood up, feeling suddenly very nervous to meet the woman who had known his mother so well. And who had been there at his birth—it felt almost as if Harry was as close as he could ever get to meeting his mother.

Without any fanfare or even a crackle from the green flames, a tall woman with short black hair stepped through and onto the hearth rug. Her serious features didn’t change much, even though she immediately smiled when she saw Severus.

“Severus-” Her voice was deeper than Harry would have expected it to be. “-it is good to see you again. How are you?” Her voice was perfectly warm and friendly, but she made no move to shake hands; she didn’t even step off the rug.

Severus inclined his head. “I am well, Healer.” Blunt looked amused at the formal address, but she said nothing. Severus turned to Harry. “This is Harry.”

“Harry,” Blunt said, her light eyes matching the smile now, “I had hoped you would be here.” To Harry, she extended a hand, which Harry took. “I have been looking forward to seeing you again for some time. I was very pleased when I read that you’d been reunited with your father.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“Albus removed the charm, I presume?” Severus inquired. When Healer Blunt nodded, Severus said to Harry, “Albus placed Healer Blunt under a charm that would not allow her to speak of what she knew.”

“You would be surprised at how often the subject of Harry Potter came up—even as far removed as I was in the United States,” the healer said. Harry wasn’t particularly surprised. The little group of three turned at an excited squawk from the corner.

Levi soared from his cave in the corner of the room and landed on Harry now-open palm. He was purring loudly as he stretched his neck out toward Blunt. Blunt stroked his neck, just as Harry always did. “Hello again,” she said in a soft voice—soothing in a way that Harry often associated with Pomfrey. “Daniel told me that the kylaria had chosen you,” Blunt said, looking up from Levi.

“He seems to like you well enough,” Severus commented.

Blunt smiled. “He and I got along perfectly well, but without any sort of connection.”

“His name’s Levi,” Harry supplied. Levi turned his head, and as gracefully as always, he hopped onto Harry’s arm and walked up to his favorite perch atop Harry’s shoulder. He curled his tail around his body.

“After the biblical Leviathan,” Blunt surmised, her voice full of approval. “I think you’ll find him an adequate protector.”

Harry didn’t know about that, but he was fond of the kylaria nonetheless. He tickled Levi’s spine before focusing on the healer again. “Daniel said that you and my mum were friends.”

“Yes, we were. I was a year ahead of Lily at Hogwarts, but after my first year, I was the only Gryffindor girl in my year—the other girl transferred to Beauxbatons before our second year. I bunked with Lily for six years.”

“You knew her fairly well, then,” Harry said eagerly. Blunt smiled kindly at him, but Harry couldn’t miss the sadness in her eyes.

“I did. Your mother was a fine woman, Harry. Very warm… she was uncommonly kind. I can’t think of even one person who didn’t like Lily… I have several pictures of her, if you’d like to see them.”

Harry was almost certain his face would crack from the force of his smile. “I would. Thank you, Healer,” he said happily.

“You may call me Margaret,” the healer said. She glanced at Severus. “That is, if your father doesn’t mind the informality.”

“I do not,” Severus said with slight nod. “May I offer you a drink?” Severus inquired as he stepped back to allow the healer access to a seat.

“No, thank you. I’m technically working.”

Severus nodded as he indicated the chair nearest the fireplace. Margaret sat, arranging her light blue healer’s robes neatly around her legs.

“Albus told you I wished to speak with about your mother’s… rather unique case?”

“Yes, he did.” Severus turned to Harry, who was about to take the seat opposite Margaret. “You were about to go flying?” Severus asked, his eyebrow rising pointedly.

Harry blinked. Had he just been dismissed? There was definitely a note of insistence in his father’s tone, even though Margaret didn’t seem to be able to detect it.

“By all means, Harry,” she said. “This will likely be rather boring… administrative details.” She said it as though it was the worst possible way to spend a morning.

Harry straightened, glancing uncertainly at the door.

“We will be a few hours,” Severus said quietly—firmly as far as Harry was concerned.

Since he seemed to have very little choice in the matter, Harry nodded. “It was nice to meet you,” he said to Margaret—reluctantly.

“I will send you the photographs of your mother,” she assured him. She took his hand once more, squeezing the palm comfortingly. “You’ve certainly grown into the Snape features you were meant to have,” she said quietly, and Harry wondered if she was aware of what had gone on beyond the Veil all those months ago. “Lily would be very happy.”

Harry flushed, too pleased to offer any response.

“Enjoy your flying,” Margaret added as she dropped her hand. Harry nodded. He paused on his way to the door as he caught the expression on his father’s face. Or rather, the lack of expression. And Harry realized how shadowed his father’s flame was—it was nearly as stony as his father’s blank features. It reminded him eerily of the days when they were just getting to know one another, but Harry shrugged it off; his dad was obviously much more affected by his mother’s illness than he was willing to admit.

Harry smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. Severus’ features didn’t relax though; his answering smile was thin. So Harry gave up, hoping that Margaret could help—she was a healer, after all. Feeling ridiculously dejected, Harry took his Firebolt and trudged out the door.

“He is a lovely young man, Severus,” he heard Margaret say, just before the door closed. He didn’t hear his father’s response.

An hour later, Harry had decided that flying around the pitch, even with Levi taking every turn by his side, wasn’t nearly as much fun as it had been with Ron. And Ron hadn’t even been particularly good company.

His summer holidays weren’t supposed to be this way, Harry told himself, feeling mildly irritated at the prank that fate was playing on him. Finally, he was free from the Dursleys—free from Dumbledore’s credo that he remain in the protective wards, and free from Voldemort himself, and somehow he was still all alone. Well, if one didn’t count Levi.

Ginny was gone—for how long, Harry hadn’t a clue. But he didn’t want to think about that.

There was no Ron either. Hell, even when he’d stayed with the Dursleys, he had always—after the Dobby incident, anyway— had Ron to look forward to for at least part of the summer. And Hermione. He was really going to have to talk to Remus about Apparating to her house. Though, Remus was probably too busy with little Sirius—too bad his godson wasn’t a few years older—at least he’d have someone to fly with.

Maybe Dumbledore would teach me how to make a Portkey to get Hermione’s house…

Not that Harry couldn’t ask his father, because he knew he could, and his dad would almost certainly agree. But somehow, Harry didn’t think he should ask. His father was much too distracted, and Harry had no idea what he could do to help. Remus would probably know teach him. Not that Harry wanted to bother him either…

Perhaps realizing that Harry was growing restless, Levi began circling farther and farther out, moving faster and maneuvering in odd patterns which Harry followed. Every dip and roll until they were well out of the bounds of the pitch, with Harry frowning as he concentrated and tried to keep up with the tiny speed demon—Levi seemed to enjoy the slightly reckless pace even more than Harry did.

After awhile, he was flying so fast, he was just a black and golden blur, and Harry was having a difficult time keeping up with him. He grinned though as Levi dove sharply and began a tight series of spirals. Harry followed suit. His eyes widened as he saw the leafy treetops spread out below—treetops that looked like part of the Forbidden Forest. How the hell had he come so far from the pitch?

He mimicked Levi’s next complicated set of twists and spins, earning Levi’s version of an approving roar. He grinned, and then called to his familiar, “We’d best head back, Levi!”

Levi zoomed upward and out of sight.

Harry tugged sharply on his broomstick, so that he was facing once more toward the sky. He swung his head to the right, looking for Levi. A sudden pain pierced Harry’s left shoulder blade. “What…” There were several whistling sounds; Harry twisted again, trying to locate the source. He grunted as several more pricks of zinging pain jolted over his back.

There was a roar so loud that Harry flinched, even as he slumped forward over his broom handle. The trees began rushing at him—greens swirling in undignified patterns… wind biting at his cheeks, and then everything was dark.

--

Severus stood stiffly on the Owlery’s top step; staring out over the lake, not really seeing anything. He had no idea how long he’d been standing here, but he couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to move. He could very nearly feel Lily’s small arms around his waist… her hair tickling his chin as it had done the night his father had died.

Nearly twenty years ago now…

How much simpler his life would life have been had Eileen died with him? How much more fulfilled would he be?

So many empty years wasted.

He’d tried to pay no attention to the voices clamoring for attention—voices of Lily, and more specifically, the shocked and disappointed voice of his son; Harry would not understand.

So Severus had shielded his feelings most carefully since Albus had brought him news of Eileen. Healer Blunt’s visit had brought it all to the fore, though he didn’t exactly regret allowing her to speak with him. It was her duty, after all, and Severus owed the healer a great deal—things he’d never thanked her for. And now that she knew the truth of what Severus had done, he owed her even more. She would not tell his secret—of that he was certain.

And Severus would do as the healer had asked him; it was past time to bury his hatred. And just as Margaret had said, Lily would want him to end it.

Severus closed his eyes. If only he’d had the foresight to kill his mother the first time she’d expressed disdain for Lily. The curse he’d cast on her, all those months ago, had made no difference. Though he certainly felt no remorse over what he’d done—even though his curse was contributing to her failing health. And Albus’ meddling assertions aside, he would not have regretted not seeing her again. He wished her agony until her final breath, even though that was not to be.

Severus’ clear view of the lake was abruptly obstructed by a familiar silver shape. He stepped back as Albus’ Patronus opened its beak. “Harry was flying over the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid just informed me that he crashed… well beyond the boundaries of the-”

Severus stopped listening. His wand was drawn before he’d fully spun around. His rapid footsteps—nearly running—echoed loudly as he flew down the stone steps.

He nearly crashed into both Remus and Albus as he ran toward Hagrid’s hut.

Hagrid, with Fang beside him, was waiting anxiously.

“Where did he go down?” Severus demanded. Hagrid pointed with a shaking finger toward Albus’ invisible boundary line—where the most dangerous beasts were kept at bay, far enough away from the school to keep the children as safe as possible.

“Just beyond the Golden Pool, it looks like,” Remus interjected quickly, having an intimate knowledge of the Dark Forest and its inhabitants. “I’ll Apparate you,” he offered. Severus nodded curtly as he latched onto Remus’ arm. The world turned inside out.

Severus staggered as he and Remus reappeared in the murky forest with a loud pop. Albus and Hagrid appeared right alongside. Birds scattered from the trees at the intrusion.

Severus concentrated as Remus led the way forward; he probed his son’s wisp, nestled safely in his flames’ embrace. Harry was alive, but there was no answering response. The silence stabbed at Severus.

Hagrid and Remus were scanning the dark forest, pink umbrella and wand stretched before them.

A gleaming white unicorn watched them silently, making no move to flee.

Farther on, a Thestral pawed the earth. Severus met the black steed’s eyes. They glittered as the Thestral turned his head to the right.

“Remus, turn to the right,” Albus directed from behind Severus; he dipped his head gratefully to the Thestral, who slipped back into the trees, as if he had never been there at all.

Severus crept forward behind Hagrid and Remus, wanting nothing more than to break out into a frenzied run.

“…careful…” Hagrid’s normally booming voice whispered. There was something in the dense trees ahead…glinting in the strands of sunlight from above.

With Albus at his side, Severus readied his wand. They slipped around the mossy tree trunks. Severus’ heart rate quickened. There was Harry, lying on the soft earth—a giant clawed wing curled around his chest. A black, scaly wing, that shimmered gold in the single shaft of sunlight that shone down on it, and illuminated half of Harry’s pale face.

Behind him, Remus and Hagrid gasped.

The tip of Severus’ wand touched Albus’ as Albus began to utter a Stunning Spell. A pair of radiant golden eyes found Severus’. Gentle eyes which held no malice. The golden gaze shifted to the side, and Severus’ own eyes followed. Sprawled out, its powerful jaws stretched open to attack—his great horns poised to charge— was a Minotaur. Its lower body, below the bare torso was no longer attached.

Severus turned back to Harry, and his mystifying protector. He brought his wand arm down and stepped quickly forward. The golden eyes watched him until he dropped to his knees beside his son. Severus’ fingertips brushed lightly over Harry’s cheeks and neck; he closed his eyes in relief as he found the steady thread of life beneath Harry’s skin.

There were a dozen tiny arrows lying in an untidy heap beside him.

Severus performed a quick diagnostic, and let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Harry’s blood was filled with the toxins of Wood Nymph arrows, but that would do little harm—except to make Harry have a strong desire to frolic more than usual… barefoot, most likely.

The resultant fall from his broom seemed to have caused his concussion, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

Severus looked up again. The golden eyes met his once more. “Thank you,” Severus said quietly. The black head bowed just slightly and then the air around them shivered with magic. Levi, restored to his tiny size, blinked at him several times, before slumping against Harry’s chest, his shimmering wings slack now.

--

Harry’s eyes focused slowly as he felt the brush of a cool flannel against his temple. His father’s face hovered above him.

“What happened?” Harry asked; his voice came out a little gruffly.

“You were shot with the arrows of Wood Nymphs,” Severus explained quietly, still moving the damp flannel carefully over Harry’s cheek. “You lost consciousness. And it seems you were nearly attacked by a Minotaur.”

“What?” Harry croaked. “A Minotaur? Wait… I fell from my broom?” He tried to sit up, but his dad shook his head slightly and Harry stopped moving.

“Yes. You have a concussion.”

Harry tried to take that in. “That’s all?” he finally asked; Severus smiled a little.

“It seems we know very little about your familiar.”

“Levi? Is he all right?” Harry tried to sit up again, but Severus held his arm firmly.

“Harry,” he scolded. “Be still. You have a concussion, and I need to finish cleaning the cuts on your face.” He gestured to the side of Harry’s head once Harry had obeyed. “Levi is asleep on your pillow.”

Harry shifted his eyes to see for himself. “What happened, then?” he asked, relieved that his tiny kylaria was all right.

Harry stared at his father as Severus explained that Levi had been as big as the dragon Harry had fought in his fourth year.

“He broke the Minotaur in half,” Severus said candidly, with a nod for Harry’s disbelief. “Hagrid believes Levi severed him with his tail.”

“And then he just shrunk again?” Harry asked when he finally found his voice.

“Shrink is not an accurate term. He used magic.”

Harry brushed that aside and reached out a finger to gently stroke Levi’s neck; Levi opened a groggy eye. He yawned widely and butted Harry’s fingers, a soft purr issuing from his throat. And then he settled himself back in the downy pillow and closed his eye.

“I wonder what else he can do.” Harry asked, turning his gaze back to his father with a grin. His smile faltered as he met his father’s frown. “What’s wrong?”

Severus continued the gentle ministrations with the flannel before answering. “You should not have been flying over the Forbidden Forest; it is as out of bounds as actually walking along the forest floor.”

“I know,” Harry answered, coloring a bit under his father’s stern gaze. “I didn’t really mean to fly so far out… I lost track of where I was going.”

Severus raised a disbelieving brow. “You lost track?”

“Levi and I were doing stunts… I only noticed a few minutes before the arrows struck me…” His father’s glower was only becoming fiercer.

“And you did not immediately turn back?”

“Almost immediately… after one more turn with Levi,” Harry admitted.

Severus stopped daubing the flannel; his black eyes were very serious as he pinned Harry with them. “Do not go near the Forbidden Forest again.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised quickly. Severus gazed down at him for a moment longer, before shaking his head slightly.

“You could have been killed.”

Harry said nothing, sensing his father’s dire mood.

“You very nearly were,” Severus continued in a dark tone. “Your propensity to find danger seems to be never-ending.”

Harry had no response for that either. Especially as he hadn’t meant to fly over the Forbidden Forest, and he didn’t want to explain that he’d been following Levi. Severus pursed his lips and continued his ministrations with the flannel in silence. Once he’d finished, he uncapped a jar of blue salve.

“You have several gashes,” Severus explained as he spread a thin layer of Harry’s cheeks and forehead. He brushed Harry’s hair away from his scar as he worked. He paused, and Harry studied his father’s face as Severus traced the lightning bolt with his thumb.

“Dad,” Harry interrupted the melancholy inspection quietly, “are you all right?”

Severus pulled his fingers slowly from Harry’s fringe. “No,” he said heavily. Harry’s stomach tightened.

“I really didn’t mean to fly so far out…”

But his father was shaking his head. “I know.” He recapped the jar of salve. “I am not angry,” he explained. “I have been plagued by thoughts of my mother… I did not expect to give the situation much thought.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Severus said, sounding very old and tired; it made Harry’s heart squeeze painfully. He still didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to talk about her… or anything, I can listen almost as well as you, I should think,” he finally said, smiling a little and hoping he was covering his anxiety well.

A small smile graced his father’s lips. “A trait you inherited from your mother, no doubt,” he murmured, making Harry grin; he relaxed as his father rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I do appreciate the offer, but if you would concentrate on confining yourself to safer activities, that would ease my mind greatly.”

The teasing cadence kept Harry from grimacing too much. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

A nudge of agreement tickled his ear; Harry glanced at his drowsy familiar. He growled softly, emphasizing his agreement with Harry’s father.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered, almost reminding the kylaria that it had been his own fault. “Can I get up?”

“If you move slowly,” Severus agreed with a hesitant nod. Levi continued to watch the proceedings with a wary eye.

--

Hours later, with Harry tucked safely in bed—yes, tucked, no matter that he was nearly seventeen and full of protests on the matter—Severus, with Remus beside him, stepped out of the Floo and into the St. Mungo’s reception area.

Healer Blunt was waiting for them.

“Remus,” the healer greeted, in much the same way she had greeted both Harry and Severus earlier—with that same, softly serious look she had worn seventeen years ago. Remus smiled warmly at her, perfectly at ease, even through the decades-gap.

“Hello, Margaret. How are you?” he asked quietly, in the muted tones best suited to libraries and hospital wards.

“Very well, thank you,” Margaret replied, gesturing for both of them to follow. “I hear that congratulations are in order. On at least three fronts.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, his face nearly lighting up, though Severus couldn’t be certain if it was for Tonks or their newborn son. “Albus didn’t have much news of you through the years, but we were all very happy to hear you’d returned.”

“I am glad to be home again as well,” the healer said with her quiet smile. They’d stopped in front of a plain brown door, just like all the other patients’ doors. Healer Blunt raised her wand, and performed a complicated Privacy Charm. “Eileen’s magic is nearly gone now. Several charms have been placed on both her person and the perimeter of the bed.” At Severus’ curt nod, she opened the door and allowed Severus to step through first.

Eileen, frail and almost wraith-like, was lying in the white hospital-issue bed near the window. The curtains were drawn; the only light came from the flickering sconce on the opposite wall.

Blunt moved away from Remus and Severus, to perform a swift diagnostic on her patient. Eileen’s eyes fluttered open.

“Eileen?” the healer questioned. “Can you hear me?”

Eileen didn’t answer, but several muscles in her face twitched.

“Your son is here to see you,” Margaret went on, her solemn tones unchanging.

Eileen’s eyes flicked toward the door; her lip curled, and Severus wished that the staff at St. Mungo’s hadn’t been so proficient in quelling the majority of the pain which Severus had inflicted on her. She should have suffered longer.

“Out,” Eileen rasped, the hatred that Severus had always seen in her eyes not dulled even as she approached her final hours.

Severus’ jaw trembled as he fought to rein in his anger. His own inescapable hatred. He turned away from the bed—from the pair of vitriolic eyes.

As he turned, he caught Margaret’s gaze. There was no judgment in her eyes, not a hint that she believed he’d made the wrong decision. How could she? She had been Lily’s best friend, and she had been with them at Harry’s birth.

Harry’s face crowded Severus’ vision then. Harry’s innocence stabbed him—both seventeen years ago when Healer Blunt had handed him to Lily, and now—more innocent than he had a right to be.

Eileen’s black eyes replaced Margaret’s light blue ones as Severus turned his head. The hatred was still there. And so was the soft warmth from Harry’s wisp. Severus raised his wand.

“Finite Incantatum,” he said quietly. He did not watch to see if Eileen’s expression changed as the curse ended. He turned away.

He did not look at either Remus or Margaret as he stepped out into the corridor.

1997

Harry blinked in the near-darkness, grogginess obscuring his vision. Levi was jostled on the pillow as Harry pushed himself to sit; the distinct sound of the Floo had woken him. He fumbled for his wand, and cast a quick Tempus Spell. Wondering who the hell could be calling on them at four in the morning, Harry took a defensive posture and deposited Levi on his shoulder for good measure—anything that could grow to twice the size of a Hippogriff couldn’t hurt.

Harry peered into his father’s room, but found it empty. Maybe someone hadn’t been calling after all? But where would his dad have to go at this hour…

Keeping his wand out, with Levi at attention on his perch, Harry moved quickly but carefully down the corridor. As soon as he stepped into the parlor, he deflated, his wand arm sinking to his side. Severus was sitting on the sofa facing the fireplace. The soft light from the candlelit sconces was dancing in harsh patterns across his skin.

Levi stretched his neck forward, but Harry waved his hand in front of the kylaria’s curious eyes, silently telling him to be quiet. The kylaria obeyed, but remained tense.

Harry moved hesitantly toward the sofa. “Dad?”

A flicker of movement in Severus’ eyes.

Harry shifted a little, but didn’t move closer. “Did you go somewhere?”

His father studied the embers in the grate. “My mother died. Healer Blunt just delivered the news.”

“Oh.” Harry watched his father’s face, but there was absolutely no indication of what Severus was feeling, which was a good indication, Harry knew. He didn’t want to say he was sorry, or offer his condolences, like he would have in a normal situation. “Do you need anything?” he finally asked quietly. “I could get some tea…”

Severus turned his head so that their eyes met. “Thank you, yes.”

Harry nodded and went to the Floo. A tea service quickly appeared on the table. Harry left his father’s black, added sugar to his own and when both of their hands were cradling their cups, he sat gingerly on the empty cushion next to his dad.

He let his body relax against the back of the sofa as he watched his father sipping carefully at the steaming brew.

Severus took a final sip before setting his cup on its saucer and turning to Harry. “There are various details which I will need to tend to before her funeral.”

Harry nodded, though he was more than a little surprised to hear that there would be a funeral—he hadn’t expected as much, since he knew his dad hadn’t attended his own father’s funeral. Unless…

“Are we going to be there?” he asked, hoping it was all right to ask.

“There will be too many questions otherwise,” Severus said quietly. “A traditional wizarding funeral will be expected. Only those who are disowned by their families would not have one. It is a grave dishonor.”

One which Eileen Snape no doubt deserved, but just as with so many other aspects of Harry’s life, it didn’t really make much difference what was right or fair. Harry understood that perfectly well.

“I’ll help however I can.”

“As her grandson-” Severus lip curled in distaste, “-and her youngest living bloodline relative, it is customary for you to perform certain parts of the funeral ritual.”

Harry nodded again, wanting to show his father as much support as he could. Whatever he could do to make this easier.

“We will keep your involvement to a minimum however,” Severus explained. “There will be a number my parents’ associates in attendance—people which I wish to give no opportunity to get close to you.”

“Not Death Eaters?”

“Death Eaters, with Voldemort’s Mark, are actually much rarer than you might believe. Most of these particular associates would have been much too cowardly to align themselves too closely with him. They will most likely be no threat to you… unpleasant, rather.”

“I will notify the Daily Prophet in a few hours,” Severus went on wearily. “The funeral will take place tomorrow… on the grounds of my father’s house. We will have to remove the Fidelius Charm. Albus and I will put several anti-Apparition jinxes over most of the grounds however, as well as protective spells over you and me.”

Harry knew his father had not attended his father’s funeral, and he had a fair idea of how much it galled him to have to do this for his mother. But he knew it was preferable to the inevitable prying which would occur if they were to forgo the traditional funeral.

“There will be a reception to follow the service.” The tight lines around Severus’ eyes indicated just how distasteful that added tradition would be.

“What can I do?”

“There are details to arrange... arrangement for food. It is traditional for the grieving-” Again the curled lip. “-family to either hire someone to see to the details, or to ask friends to assist.”

“Remus or Dumbledore will help,” Harry said quickly, “and Dobby would put himself in charge of the food if I asked him—he could get some of the other elves here to help.” Warming up to the idea of his friends helping, Harry continued, “And Hermione will do whatever we ask her to do. Tonks as well. The Weasleys might not be able to get here in time, but they would help if they can, even if they aren’t so keen on me right now. And you can Floo Daniel. I’m sure he’ll want to come anyway, to support you. And Margaret. Even McGonagall and Pomfrey…”

Harry let his words fade away; his dad was staring at him, his brow puckered as if trying to convince himself that Harry was really there. The expression of bewilderment on his face made a shiver of unease slink down Harry’s spine. And then as quickly as Harry had noticed the baffling expression, Severus’ face cleared. He stood abruptly.

“I have several things to attend to,” he said shortly. “I will return in a few hours.”

“But it’s four o’clock in the morning…”

“It is no matter,” Severus said dismissively. “Go back to bed. You will need your rest.”

“Where are you going?” Harry knew he was too old to be anxious, but that knowledge didn’t seem to make much difference.

“I will be back shortly,” was his father’s curt answer.

“But-”Harry cut off his own objection, the thin set of his father’s lips finally deterring him. Levi made a noise halfway between a growl and a bark. Harry looked at his familiar, surprised at the display of displeasure. Severus raised his eyebrow; he and Levi glared at one another. Severus blinked first.

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nostrils. The sound was extremely loud in the small room.

“Dad, if you-”

Severus opened his eyes. “I need to be alone, Harry.”

Harry noticed the deep circles under his eyes then. Hating the feeling of uselessness, he nodded. He shooed Levi away when the kylaria huffed indignantly at Severus. Severus watched Levi fly with resentful wings to his cave. Then he turned his head back and gazed at Harry for a long minute.

“I will return shortly,” he said again, quietly this time. His hand stretched toward Harry’s fringe, but before he made contact, he turned abruptly away. He fastened his cloak with terse movements. “Sleep,” he ordered softly, in contrast to his severe expression . He glanced once more at Harry, and then he slipped out into the dark corridor.

--

Two hours later, Harry and Levi got out of the bed for the second time—he’d been too restless to fall asleep again anyway. And after listening to every squeak for signs of his father, he gave up. Padding down the corridor and into the sitting room, his stomach twisted with disappointment, even though he knew his dad wasn’t back yet.

He wandered into the lab, peering into cauldrons and taking lids out of flasks to squint at murky liquids. The Repelling Potion that his father had been working on yesterday, sans Harry, was sitting quietly under a Stasis Charm. He and his father had been working on the potion since before Christmas, though they hadn’t quite found the right combination of ingredients to make it effective against anything but the most harmless of hexes.

Harry studied the long list of ingredients, smiling as he remembered the hours he and his dad had spent at this bench, poring over potions texts. The times Severus’ eyes had lit with pleasure at a sound suggestion from Harry—or even a curious question. The moments of shared excitement when the brew reacted just the way they had been hoping it would.

Hoping it would lift his father’s spirits, and needing a distraction, Harry scanned the notes he and his dad had made for the last batch of Repelling Potion. It took a bit of time to figure out which stage his father was at in this particular batch, but once he’d analyzed the contents in the cauldron, he set to work slicing the Asphodel. It looked nearly as good as his father would have done before he poured it carefully into the cauldron and murmured the spell to activate the potion, and set his wand aside to begin the next step. And then the liquid in the cauldron erupted.

“Bloody hell…”

Harry scrambled for his wand, but his fingers slipped and the holly clattered to the floor. “Damn it,” he muttered, bending quickly to retrieve it, and when he straightened up, the dark purple potion was still spilling over the edge of the worktable, pouring in a steady, sticky stream, dripping down walls and from the ceiling.

“Evanesco,” he said quickly, pointing his wand at the largest spot of potion, spilling like a curtain from the edge of the table, but it did very little good; the potion continued to gurgle from the cauldron. “Finite,” he tried next, a bit desperately, trying to cancel the spell that had caused the mess in the first place, but that was no use either, and before Harry could think of another solution, the door was pushed open.

“Harry, I would like…”

Harry grimaced as his father halted abruptly, just over the threshold. “I’m sorry,” Harry said hastily. “I was trying to finish the potion before you came back…”

But Severus paid no mind to Harry’s apology; he was moving quickly around the work table; he opened one of the storage cupboards, and quickly selected a slim vial from the top shelf. Harry moved aside as his father came close, and then he watched with his lip between his teeth as Severus uncorked the small glass container and tipped the green potion into the explosive purple potion. Almost instantly, the out of control potion thickened; the march toward the floor slowing.

Severus and Harry stared at the congealed pool of unfinished Repelling Potion.

“Are you all right?” Severus asked, eying Harry closely. “None of it came in contact with your skin?”

Harry glanced down at his hands, half-expecting to find some of the purplish liquid searing his skin; they were still perfectly clean; he shook his head.

Severus gripped Harry’s shoulder lightly, turning him to the side, and looking him over as though expecting Harry to be at least half melted. His cheeks flushing, Harry twisted, mumbling an almost incoherent, “I’m all right.”

Severus didn’t release him though. Harry looked up; his father was regarding him with one of his more intense gazes. Levi was watching both of them.

“I’ll clean it up,” Harry offered, feeling uncommonly nervous. Severus’ eyebrows lifted. He finally relaxed his hold on Harry’s shoulder as his eyes traveled over the splotches of purple decorating the walls of his previously pristine lab.

“The table and cauldron will be the only difficulty, since magic will interfere with the work surfaces,” Severus reminded him, and then with a few concise arcs with his wand, the walls and floor were spotless once again. Another wave of his wand produced two scouring brushes, the ones Harry had learned to dread over the last several years. But instead of leaving Harry to the task, Severus handed one of the brushes to Harry and picked up the cauldron of congealed potion and began scraping the purplish sludge into one of the sinks.

Harry felt pretty stupid as he stood there, the scrub brush hanging by his side as he watched his father cleaning the cauldron.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he felt compelled to say again, in lieu of an apology for thinking his father was going to glower at him while Harry scrubbed the lab spotless again.

Severus looked up from beginning to scour the cauldron; the sound of the brush scraping against metal grated against Harry’s eardrums. Severus frowned, his eyes narrowed just slightly—the way they always did when he was concerned about Harry’s state of mind.

“Did you crush the Asphodel this time?” he asked quietly; the brush stilled against the pewter.

“It didn’t seem to work any better that way when we tried it last time,” Harry said; he had to use his fingernail to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of sludge. “So, I diced it this time… to keep the toxins from releasing until I cast the spell over the cauldron.”

“Hmm,” Severus murmured. “Did you cast the spell after all of the slices were submerged?”

“I didn’t remember I was supposed to until it was too late.” Harry flushed again. “I, uh, didn’t read through all your notes before I began…”

“Our notes,” Severus corrected. “You wrote that particular set, I believe.”

Harry shrugged, and focused on the purple mess still adorning his father’s lab bench. There seemed to be much more than Harry had noticed.

“I sent my Patronus to inform the Weasleys of my mother’s passing.”

Harry looked up. Severus had set his brush aside and was turned so that he was facing Harry fully.

“You did?” Harry asked in surprise. He’d assumed his father had been walking aimlessly over the grounds. Though he had said had had ‘several things to attend to’…

“Arthur sent a message back. They will return as soon as they can acquire an international Portkey.”

Harry’s inside danced in nervous excitement at the thought of seeing Ginny. “Thanks,” he said sincerely, the knot in his stomach which had lingered for days now, loosening at the minute softening of Severus’ lips. They tightened briefly though only a second later and he looked as though he might say something, but he only nodded.

But the tension which had overshadowed them since Severus had first heard news of his mother still hovered over the lab, or perhaps it was only Harry’s imagination. “Do you think they’ll make it in time for the funeral?” he asked tentatively as he set his brush to the bench again.

“Albus will hurry the process along, no doubt.”

Harry smiled, mostly because of the slightly amused, sardonic lift of Severus’ lip.

They finished cleaning the lab, and then Severus suggested they begin the Repelling Potion again. Wanting to believe that his father’s spirits were on the mend, Harry agreed readily.

--

Funerals were meant to be rainy, Harry decided as he stood beside his father the next morning; the raindrops beating a steady staccato on the gleaming white casket in front of them. Daniel, who was acting as the head of the Snape family as Severus ‘grieved’ for his mother, had cast a very impressive Umbrella Charm over the gathered mourners themselves.

Harry was very grateful, as he often was, that he no longer wore glasses; they would have fogged up as the humidity increased. Although it really wouldn’t have mattered if he couldn’t see—there was nothing to see except the glistening coffin, since he’d long since given up searching for Ginny, or even Ron, in the crowd.

He was no longer listening to Daniel’s carefully prepared monologue about the rituals which had been passed down for dozens of generations. He wasn’t thinking about Ginny though—not specifically. Hermione had already assured him, very convincingly, that Ginny would have come if they’d been able to secure a Portkey.

His mind was actually stuck on the people standing next to him. Hermione, for one. She was standing on Harry’s other side. Where Harry’s next closest relative should have been standing. She was standing very close to Harry, nearly trodding on his foot actually—because she was trying to stay as far away as possible from Draco, who was standing with his parents, just as if they belonged there.

And Harry knew they did—as far as the rest of the wizarding world was concerned. Eileen Prince had been a well-respected pureblooded witch. And she was not only well-connected to, and a cousin of the Blacks, she and Tobias had apparently been very good friends of Draco’s grandparents. Harry had been more than a little repulsed to realize that he and Draco were nearly as closely related as Draco and Sirius had been. He’d searched the blond Slytherin’s face when Lucius had calmly suggested that he take on the role Daniel currently held.

Both the Black and Malfoy lines intersect with the Snape line more than once, Severus. Surely you must realize the honor should be mine. Your mother would have wanted one of her cousins to do it.

And that had decided it, of course. Severus had smiled thinly and explained that Daniel had already accepted the role. Lucius’ false smile matched Severus’. And through the entire exchange, Draco had chatted with Harry and Hermione about the Canons’ latest match. As if being so closely related to Harry didn’t bother him the slightest bit.

“Harry?”

Harry pulled his eyes from Eileen’s coffin. Daniel was nodding expectantly at him. Oh right. It was time for Harry to present a geneology of the Prince family. He very carefully didn’t look at the Malfoys as he pulled the folded copy of the family tree from his robe pocket—according to tradition, he was supposed to recite it from memory. Draco could have recited it without any preparation at all, Harry thought sourly as he began to read.

He stumbled over a few of the names but nobody seemed to notice.

“Thank you, Harry,” Daniel said formally before directing his gaze to Severus. “And now, Eileen’s son, Severus Tobias Snape, will honor his mother with a eulogy.”

Severus inclined his head in acceptance, just as was expected. Daniel stepped back, near the head of Eileen’s coffin while Severus stepped forward. He met Harry’s gaze, and Harry smiled encouragingly. A quickly-squelched wave of emotions flooded Harry’s storm, but the blank expression on his father’s face remained unchanged, and then he turned to face his mother’s coffin.

“Eileen Sarah Prince was born on March eighteenth in nineteen-forty,” Severus began. His voice was perfectly level, without even a hint of inflection. “She was born in London.”

The history of Eileen Prince, as delivered by Harry’s father, was detailed and rich. And it was absolutely false, as far as Harry was concerned. There was no mention of her abuse toward her son, or a side note that she was an accessory to the murder of two perfectly innocent people. And quite possibly, the indirect cause of several others. Or, that, if not for her, Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to turn her only grandchild into a Horcrux.

There were no indulgences on Severus’ part either; not even to give the impression that he had been fond of her, but that didn’t make it any better. As Harry stood by his father’s side and listened to him eulogize Eileen, he found he wanted to shout the truth to the listening crowd. He wanted to tell them that Eileen Prince was little more than a murderer, and didn’t deserve any of this.

There was a sudden comforting pressure against Harry’s shoulder. He glanced sideways and found Remus smiling gently at him, standing in the spot meant for Severus’ closest family member. Harry nodded a little, thanking his friend for the quiet support—it helped that someone else understood. Remus’ hand fell away—no doubt he was breaking some sort of protocol with the gesture—and Harry faced forward again, really only half-listening to the eulogy and mostly thinking about Ginny again.

He knew they might still make it, but Harry wasn’t counting on it. And even if they did, how was he supposed to talk to her with all these people around? Although, maybe it would be easier to sneak away in the crowd… find somewhere on the manor grounds… Mmm…

Harry closed his eyes, his father’s words drifting aimlessly as he focused the driving rain. Imagining Ginny grinning as she ran toward him, her bright hair darkening as the rain soaked through it. Wrapping his arms around her waist as she pushed herself up to kiss him. And her hands would wind through his own wet hair. The rain would drench her shirt eventually as well, if they stood out in the open for long enough. He smiled as he thought of her shirt clinging to her chest, and what it would feel like to have the wet fabric pressed up against him. What it would be like to peel the wet shirt-

Harry’s eyes snapped open at a tap to his shoulder. He looked at Hermione questioningly. She gestured with a small wave of her fingers toward Eileen’s coffin. Severus and Remus were stepping close to the marble box; he had missed the rest of the eulogy.

Harry shook the lingering images of Ginny from his mind and moved forward as well, taking his place in between his father and Remus. Daniel was already standing at the head of the coffin; the rain was no longer pelting the marble. Severus moved closer to Harry, the urge to protect him coming loudly through their connection. Daniel waved his wand, and the casket opened.

Harry saw his grandmother for the first time.

Her hair was the perfect shade of silver, styled without even one strand out of place. Her eyes were closed, of course, but Harry remembered how cold her black eyes had been in James’ Pensieved memories. And Harry imagined the slight lift of her lips was a sneer.

Harry looked up to find his father gazing at him, as if his mother’s body wasn’t even there. He knew the sorrow in his father’s eyes had nothing to do with Eileen. Harry smiled again, and this time, Severus smiled a bit in return. And then he raised his wand. Harry, Remus and Daniel followed suit.

In one voice, the four men commanded, “Prosecutus,” and the army of flowers surrounding the coffin burst into a cloud of twittering, singing birds.

Every single one of them was black.

Like am angry storm cloud, the birds rose and with another quartet of waved wands, Eileen’s coffin was closed and she and her eternal black companions disappeared; buried beneath the ground beside Tobias. Harry’s arm fell slowly back to his side as the partially-filled headstone began to engrave the date of Eileen’s death. Once completed, the quartet turned to face the gathered crowd of mourners.

“Eileen Sarah Prince Snape,” Daniel said in his strong voice, “is laid to rest beside her husband. May her family find the peace which they deserve, and may her son continue the legacy of the Prince family name, of which Eileen was so proud.”

In keeping with the ceremony of the day, Daniel held out the Prince Crest, which Severus accepted with a nod of his head. Harry stepped forward, as he had practiced and with a silent Sticking Charm, he affixed it to his father’s chest.

“Severus Tobias Snape,” Harry said formally, following the script, “you are now the keeper of the Prince Family Crest. May you give the name the honor it deserves.”

“Thank you,” Severus said. He held Harry’s gaze, both of them full of the irony of Harry’s words. The moment didn’t last however. With the ritual complete, the mourners began to stir, speaking to one another quietly and coming to offer Severus and Harry their condolences, though in several cases, it was to tell Severus how disappointed Eileen would have been in him. Severus accepted all it with a empty face and a nod.

Most of the more disdainful attendees spared only a grimace or scowl for Harry before excusing themselves to pay their final respects to Eileen at her headstone before Disapparating away at the designated point beside the stone. Only one—a man who introduced himself as a long-time friend of Tobias’ bothered to speak to Harry.

“You have your grandfather’s chin,” he said with a severe frown, as if the vague similarity was offensive. “You had best do nothing to disgrace the Snape name,” he added, pointing a gnarled finger at Harry. “It is a name with pride and traditions which have been upheld for generations.”

“For far too long, in many cases,” Severus interjected, his eyes narrowing for the first time since the day began. The aristocratic man sniffed disdainfully at Severus, and pointed his long cane in the direction of Tobias’ grave.

“You dishonored the family name more than once, Severus. A disgrace, your father used to call you. And now you poison the next generation with your misplaced rebellion? Your mother and father would be ashamed.”

“No doubt,” Severus said dryly as if the words had no effect on him. The other man drew himself up and harrumphed at Severus’ impertinence before finally turning away and hobbling toward the headstones. He muttered for a few minutes as he switched his gaze between the headstones, before turning on the spot and vanishing.

By then, the most malignant elements of the crowd had vanished. The Malfoys, Harry supposed, couldn’t really be included in the former group. Lucius and Narcissa took Severus’ attention next, while Draco strolled up to Harry, with Hermione right behind him.

Hermione squeezed past the Slytherin, however and hugged Harry before Draco could speak. “You did wonderfully, Harry,” she told him quietly.

“Thanks,” he whispered back. Hermione squeezed him a little before pulling her head away from his and studying his face. Apparently, she thought he looked all right, because she nodded and stepped back. Draco took the opportunity to extend his pale hand.

“My condolences, Harry,” he said, which as far as Harry had been told, was exactly what he should have said. So Harry thanked him. “You did a fair job of the geneology, especially as you hadn’t had much practice,” Draco added, which was quite the compliment from the Slytherin.

“I read it,” Harry reminded him, hoping to catch the other boy in a sneer, but Draco only shrugged.

“Most pureblooded wizards are given their family trees to memorize, even before they can read. It isn’t your fault that you weren’t.”

Surprised by the sentiment, Harry didn’t respond right away, and before he had a chance, Oliver Wood and Owen August came up behind Draco. Harry had seen them earlier as the guests had assembled, but there had been no chance for him to speak with anyone, save Daniel… Neville and his grandmother were around her somewhere as well.

Oliver and August, who didn’t insist on being called Auggie this time, echoed Draco’s sentiments.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” August then said, and excused himself to greet Severus.

“How are you, Harry?” Oliver asked, after saying hello to Hermione and Draco.

“Doing all right, I suppose, all things considered,” Harry said with a shrug. Oliver nodded sympathetically.

“Are you and Professor Snape going to live here during the summer?” he asked. “There’s enough space to put up a pitch.”

Harry smiled, but Hermione frowned at the former Gryffindor Captain. “We are at a funeral, Oliver,” she scolded quietly.

“It’s all right, Hermione,” Harry assured her. He was in no mood to be sad. And on that note, he added, “Why don’t you come on into the house, Oliver? Dobby made a lot food.” Not wanting to be rude, he nodded at Draco. “Er… you as well, Draco.”

Draco smiled, and didn’t seem to notice the odd look Oliver was favoring Harry with. But nonetheless, both he and Hermione fell in step beside Draco and Harry. August and Severus were walking toward the house as well. Harry spotted Neville standing next to his grandmother and Dumbledore; he waved his friend over. With a quick nod of approval from his grandmother, Neville joined Harry on his free side.

Mrs. Longbottom, Remus and Tonks brought up the rear of the little procession. Daniel and Margaret, Harry noticed, were accompanying the Malfoys up the steps and into the house ahead of all of them. Dumbledore, lingering behind, was shepherding the remaining professors toward the house.

“Thank you, Professor,” August was saying as Harry and his little qroup of friends entered the manor. Severus inclined his head and with another smile, August rejoined Harry’s group. Harry watched his father walk into Tobias’ study—the one with the ruby strap that Harry would have liked to never have seen—with Remus.

“Your friend Dobby never does anything by halves, does he?” Oliver was saying admiringly. Harry pulled his eyes away from the study. He’d already seen the huge banquet of food which had been prepared by Dobby and several other Hogwarts’ house-elves.

“I hope you’re paying them for this extra work, Harry,” Hermione said with a sour twist to her lips. Harry had given Dobby a tiny sweater as a thank you, so he nodded; it was easier than arguing. Hermione smiled as she chose a plate from the stack and made her way down the long table full of food. August picked up a plate for himself and followed behind, keeping up a steady stream of chatter, to which Hermione nodded and occasionally interjected comments.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Neville asked as Harry drifted toward a table.

“Later, maybe.”

Neville nodded in understanding and instead of taking his place in line, he joined Harry at the table. Draco and Oliver collected plates and followed along after Hermione and August, eyeing one another warily the entire time.

“Where are Ron and Ginny?” Neville asked after he’d poured water for both of them, from the pitchers on the table.

“They went to Romania, and couldn’t get a Portkey in time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry,” Neville said sincerely, his kind eyes crinkling with concern. “Your dad must be having a really hard time right now as well.”

For some reason he couldn’t really pinpoint, Harry didn’t relish the idea of lying to Neville, so he simply said, “He and my grandmother weren’t really very close.”

“That’s the case in a lot of pureblood wizarding families, from what my Gran says,” Neville said with a nod.

“Most pureblooded wizards simply exercise more restraint when it comes to family than other wizards. It doesn’t mean we are not as close as any other family.”

Neville and Harry looked up. Draco nodded at them as if that single bob of his head would make his statement inarguable. Neville stared into his water as he took a sip.

“I think he has a point,” August said, gesturing at Neville, as he pulled out Hermione’s chair for her. Hermione looked surprised but didn’t protest.

“His name’s Neville,” Harry supplied quietly. August smiled at Neville.

“Neville has a point then. But so does Draco,” he added. “The majority of Slytherins are purebloods, and not all of them hate their families.”

“I didn’t say my dad hated his mother,” Harry protested. “And neither did Neville.”

“Of course not, Harry,” August said easily. “Your grandmother was probably a fine woman, which is why I said Draco has a point.”

“Where are you playing your next match?” Hermione cut in smoothly, directing her question to Oliver as Harry tried not to scowl at the idea of Eileen being called a ‘fine woman’. Oliver brightened and he, Draco and August—with an occasional contribution by Neville and Harry, began a lively debate about which team had the best chance for the Cup this year.

--

“We’ve got loads of tickets, Harry. And Hermione will only agree if you come.” August smiled sheepishly as Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was chatting with McGonagall. “And of course, Oliver and I—and the rest of team would love to have you there.”

“You’re both welcome as well,” Oliver added to Neville and Draco as he stood.

“It sounds lovely,” Draco said with a smile as he straightened his cloak in preparation to leave. “Perhaps you and I could go together, Harry?”

Lucius, just joining them with his wife, smiled at that.

“Sure,” Harry said, distracted as he watched August walking toward Hermione to take his leave. It was certainly a bad time for Ron to be missing…

“Excellent,” Draco was saying to Harry. “I will Floo you tomorrow and we can settle on a time and a place to meet.”

Harry nodded, not really paying much attention to the fact that he had just agreed to go to the Quidditch World Cup with Draco Malfoy, of all people.

“Have you seen your father, Harry?” Narcissa asked as she straightened her white gloves. “We would like to take our leave.”

Harry shook his head. “Not for awhile…” He turned in the direction of Tobias’ office, wondering if he was still in there. “Pardon me,” he excused himself. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

Harry stopped just outside Tobias’ half-closed office door. Remus was speaking softly.

“He doesn’t need to know, Severus.”

“I know that, Lupin,” Severus said irritably. Harry could hear Remus sighing.

“It’s over now, and there is nothing to be gained by Harry learning what you did,” Margaret added; she was speaking in a tone that sounded much like Pomfrey’s when the Mediwitch was making a professional observation. …what you did… Harry’s heart quickened at the ominous words; he inched toward the door.

“Several of your guests are preparing to leave, Severus.” That was Daniel, still acting his part from earlier. “You can attend to those letters later.”

The door swung open and before Harry could pedal himself backward, he came face to face with Remus.

“Harry?”

Remus stepped back quickly to halt the impending collision. Severus was standing behind his father’s massive oak desk; a scroll was open in his hand, but his eyes were on Harry. The surprised arch of his eyebrows quickly dropped to a low sweep of appraisal. Harry tried not to let his sudden worry over Margaret’s statement show.

“May I speak with you?” he asked quickly before his father could echo that they needed to return to the departing guests.

Pausing only for a split second, Severus nodded. To Margaret, Daniel and Remus he said, “If you will excuse us?”

Margaret glanced at Severus; her eyes were soft even though she didn’t smile. Daniel smiled at Harry, his own expression sad as he turned with Margaret. Remus caught Severus’ gaze before he turned to follow; he closed the door behind him, and Harry could feel the activation of Silencing Spells as the knob clicked.

He tried to make his tone more curious than suspicious when he asked, “What was Margaret talking about?”

“Eavesdropping seems to be becoming a habit with you,” Severus returned, his tone much too bland as he set the re-tied scroll back on the table.

Harry did his best to ignore the understated reprimand. “What was she talking about?” he repeated, unwilling to let this go. Not if it had something to do with him. His father narrowed his eyes.

“It does not concern you,” he said in a voice meant to forestall any arguments. Perhaps to emphasize his dismissal, Severus picked up another of the scrolls and untied it. “Hermione is still here, I believe?”

But Harry didn’t move. For days now, his dad had been acting strangely. Distant. The realization that he was now most definitely hiding something made Harry’s chest tighten. What could his father possibly have to hide? What had happened that Harry couldn’t know? Something to do with Eileen…

Severus looked up from the missive he was reading, his eyebrows raised pointedly. Dismissing him again. Harry curled his fingers at his sides so that his father wouldn’t see that they were shaking. He was having difficulty finding his voice.

“Did you…” Harry faltered, knowing what he was about to say couldn’t possibly be true, but what else could his father have to hide? “You didn’t…”

Severus lowered the parchment; his black eyes narrowed. “Did I what?” he demanded, his voice dropping to one of his more ominous octaves. Far from intimidating him, Harry bristled. He recognized the defensiveness in his father’s tone.

“Something’s going on,” he said, trying not to sound as accusatory as he felt. “You’ve been irritable for days.”

“My mother just died, Harry,” Severus countered in a tone that was much too acerbic for Harry’s tastes. More evasion, as far as Harry was concerned. He knew how much his father hated Eileen.

“And ever since Dumbledore told you, you’ve been secreting around, and making certain I’m not included in whatever you’ve been discussing with Margaret, and now Daniel and Remus. I know you’re not telling me something, Dad, and whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Anger flared within the depths of his father’s dark eyes, but there was regret and remorse echoing in the flames surrounding Harry’s wisp and he knew the anger was a cover. “I have already told you that this does not concern you,” Severus began in a hard tone but Harry cut him off.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice soft and warbling just slightly as he tried not to let his sudden fear out into the open.

The usually dormant barrier between their minds snapped into place.

“I beg your pardon?”

Harry carefully kept himself from reacting with anger. “Margaret said that I don’t need to know what you did.”

Severus dropped the scroll onto the desk; it rolled and came to a stop beside Tobias’ ruby red strap. “I do not wish to discuss this further,” he said in a low voice.

Harry swallowed as he pulled his gaze from the horrible leather. “Why?”

“Harry-”

“What did you do that was so awful that you can’t even talk about it?” Harry demanded, his voice rising a little. “You did something to your mother, didn’t you?”

And that was it. Harry knew it just from the way his father gazed at him—that gaze as icy has Harry had seen it in almost a year. Severus didn’t answer as he came around the desk. “As you no doubt heard Daniel say,” he said coldly, “we have guests to attend to.”

“Who cares about the guests? Why won’t you tell me?”

Severus spun sharply around; his eyes were blazing now, the calm mask completely gone. “You will cease this line of questioning instantly, Harry,” he growled. “I will not tell you again.”

Harry paid no attention to the way his insides squirmed at the pronouncement, instead allowing his anger to take over. “Fine,” he snapped.

“Mind your tone,” Severus snapped right back.

So Harry did. He minded it so well that he did nothing more than glare as he wrenched the door open to retreat down the long corridor and out onto the grounds, where mercifully, it had stopped raining.

He went right past Moody and another bloke, who had both been charged by Dumbledore to guard the Manor. Knowing they would have put the protective wards back over the grounds after the undesirables had left, Harry walked all the way over to the edge of the property, to the cliff that overlooked the beach where he and his father had come before Christmas.

Harry stared out at the gently cresting water for a long time, glad it was no longer raining. He dug his fists deep into his pockets, and hunched his shoulders against the wind which was just starting to pick up. He didn’t care that he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. He knew his dad could find him if he had wanted to—he obviously didn’t want to. Not that Harry cared about that either, or so he told himself once more as the water crashed over the sand.

It was hours until sunset; he could just stay here until then. No matter how angry his father was, he would notice his absence by then.

Harry kicked a loose stone from the grass where it was half-buried and glared at it as it arced through the air, over the small cliff and plopped into the waving water. A movement in his peripheral vision made him turn his head. And for a moment, every nerve in his body seemed to come alive.

Ginny.

Her pretty nose was wrinkled in concern, and her lips were curved into a soft, sad smile. Without a word, she came forward, or maybe he made the first move; he couldn’t be certain. But an instant later, she was in his arms, her head tucked just beneath his chin, just where it belonged. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him, her grip so tight, there was something desperate about it. Something final in the way she pressed her fingertips against his nape.

But he couldn’t let it matter. He pressed his lips to Ginny’s fiery hair; she trembled, and Harry held her even tighter. Nothing was wrong, he told himself. Nothing could be wrong, as long as he was holding her.

1997 

“I’m glad you’re back.” Harry knew he should have been embarrassed that his voice came out a little wobbly, but he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Ginny whispered into his neck. She showed no signs of allowing him to step back so Harry pulled her closer. “International Portkeys are a nightmare…”

“You’re here,” Harry told her. It was all that mattered anyway. He bent his head so that his cheek brushed against her face. He could feel her jaw trembling as he kissed the hollow beneath her earlobe.

“Harry…”

A twinge of unease tickled Harry’s gut again. But he refused to acknowledge it. Refused to believe that Ginny had come out had come out here for anything but a welcome homecoming.

“Everything’s all right,” Harry heard himself saying—as if she was far away and he was speaking through a very dense fog.

“I don’t…”

Harry had to fight his almost overpowering instinct to pull her closer and pretend she hadn’t spoken. But Ginny’s fingers had slipped from the back of his neck and her tight hold was starting to slacken, so Harry reluctantly let his arms fall as well and stepped back.

Ginny was staring up at him. Her chocolate brown eyes were as beautiful as they’d always been.

“Do you want to take a walk?” he blurted. Maybe if they walked, she’d forget what she wanted to say. Or she’d realize she didn’t want to say it at all…

Ginny bit at the inside of her lip and nodded.

“Are you cold?” he asked as they turned away from the cliff.

Ginny didn’t look at him as she shook her head, but Harry told himself it didn’t mean anything. Everything was fine.

The sound of the breaking water, and the Manor itself, faded behind them as they walked.

No one stopped them, and as far as Harry could tell, no one was standing on the steps of the Manor, spying on them.

“Did you have a good time in Romania?” Harry asked in a forced conversational tone after they’d walked for several minutes, and once they’d passed through the clearing. There was a dense forest beyond, but Ginny showed no signs of wanting to stop.

“No… Hedwig came with your letter just before your dad’s Patronus.”

Harry nodded and they continued on through the trees; he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How is your father?” Ginny asked next, in a tone that suggested they were nothing more than polite acquaintances.

But Harry didn’t want to talk about his dad. He was still simmering with anger, even through the mass of anxiety he was feeling about Ginny.

“He’s not mourning his mother.”

Ginny nodded in understanding.

Harry had no idea where he was going, but he couldn’t stop walking.

Harry?

Startled by the sudden mental intrusion, Harry almost stumbled over a root in his path. His father’s hastily constructed barrier had fallen again and Harry felt the sudden rush of warmth he’d been missing since their earlier row.

Where are you?

His earlier resentments and hurt at his father’s refusal to tell him what was going on flared again.

With Ginny, he answered tersely.

The flames flickered—a mental blink of surprise. It is getting late. Ginny’s parents are looking for her. And I would like to speak with-

Ginny and I are talking, Harry interrupted. We’ll be back later.

Harry-

Harry very carefully tucked his wisp away. He could still hear the echo of his father’s words—calling his name, but he could ignore it.

And he did.

“Did you see any dragons?” Harry asked to distract himself from the niggle of guilt chewing at him now.

The foliage was becoming sparser as they walked on.

“Charlie took us to see some nestlings.”

“Yeah?” This was a nice, safe topic.

“Mmmhmm… they were bigger than your little… what did you call it?”

“A kylaria… Levi.”

Ginny nodded.

There safe topic came to an abrupt close, and Harry struggled for something else to say. They were just pushing their way through the last of the feathery green trees. A tiny stretch of beach greeted them… completely secluded.

The day was turning to dusk, lighting a strip of pink and gold sky on the water’s edge.

“It’s beautiful…” Ginny breathed, mesmerized. Harry smiled and dropped slowly, so that he was sitting in the soft sand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she sat beside him. His hand brushed hers as she settled in.

“Are you… going back to Romania…?”

Ginny shook her head as she stared at the dark blue water; it was just beginning to break over the sand. A tiny blossom of hope peeked through the dark cloud which had been stewing over them.

“Ginny, I-” Harry started to say, leaning in toward her, but Ginny pulled back abruptly.

“Harry…”

With a knot in his stomach, Harry closed his mouth. Ginny tilted her face up so that she was gazing right into his eyes. Searching. She blinked several times.

“I’m sorry about what happened at my house,” she finally said softly; her fingers were like clamps as they dug into the sand next to her legs.

“It’s all right,” Harry murmured. Ginny’s ginger hair swished over her cheekbones as she shook her head.

“I should have explained…”

Harry struggled to keep his voice even. “Explained what?”

“It was really hard to see Hermione so flustered,” Ginny said. “Maybe it’s because I never really thought about what it might really mean… if we were to…” Ginny took in a shaky breath when Harry nodded to show he understood. “And mum and I had a long talk-” Ginny was blinking rapidly again. “Don’t be angry with her... it isn’t her fault.”

Her fault… The words were echoing through Harry’s conscience.

“What isn’t?” he asked hollowly as he watched Ginny’s eyes become shiny.

“Harry…” The word was a quietly gulped breath, and it was all Harry could do not to fold her against his chest and refuse to let her finish. “I’ve thought about it so many times… wanted to so many times.”

Harry’s eyebrows came together as he stared down at her in confusion. That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting her to say, but oddly the words, which should have thrilled him, left him feeling even emptier. Tears were gathering in Ginny's eyes now.

“So have I…” He needed her to know that he felt the same way. Ginny nodded jerkily, and before he lost his nerve—he wouldn’t be a coward, not even about this—he added what she obviously couldn’t say, “And we're only going to want it more.”

The truth hung over them as fragile as crystal, making Harry feel like the world would shatter if he moved.

“I have two more years until I graduate,” Ginny said, her voice almost hoarse from forcing the tears at bay. “I’m not ready, but I don’t think I could wait… and that scares me.” Her lips trembled but no tears escaped.

“I know,” Harry said, his own voice a shade too hoarse for his comfort. “I would never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” He was only repeated what he'd told her before. The words had meant something to her once.

“But I would want to.” A tear slipped past Ginny's lashes. “I just need some time, Harry… Maybe if we just slow down…”

“Slow down…” Harry repeated dully.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Ginny whispered. “It’s just too fast… all of it.”

It felt like something was lodged in Harry’s diaphragm and he could no longer breathe.

Ginny was babbling then, but Harry barely heard her. “I don’t want to ruin it… Hermione said she felt like she didn’t really know Ron—the way he acted… we’re too young… Ron wasn’t even there when Hermione needed him and I always thought he was in love with her… She said she loved him…”

She trailed off, and they sat side by side as the moonless night tightened its noose. The breeze was beginning to pick up but Harry didn’t feel the cold wind. He was already too numb. They sat there together, the silence cloaking them, neither one of them mentioning that it would be nearly impossible to find their way back to the Manor in the darkness.

--

“Potter.”

Dreams weren’t supposed to be shaky. At least, not dreams of walking barefoot through tall, golden grasses with Ginny. When she was barefoot as well-

“Wake up, Potter. Harry!”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Someone with a haughty voice. “Merlin, Potter, wake up, would you?” Someone who was annoyed.

Harry dragged his eyes open. He squinted against the light only centimeters from his face.

“Malfoy?”

“Bloody hell, Potter. You’re in so much trouble. ” Draco grabbed his elbow and began tugging him upward; the light from his wand bobbed dizzily.

“What?” Harry asked fuzzily; he sat up slowly, his eyes blinking rapidly now as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was sitting in sand, on the beach where he and Ginny had come at dusk. Ginny was sitting beside him, her ginger hair tangled around her face. She looked just as confused as he felt.

“At least they’re already dressed.”

Harry squinted as he looked up; a tall, lean shadow was illuminated by the moonlight. “August?”

What the hell was going on?

The tall shadow sighed and leaned down. “If you’re not going to call me Auggie, just call me Owen,” he said with a shake of his head. “And would you get up already? Your father is going to kill you. To say nothing of Ginny’s dad…”

“What are you talking about? And what do you mean, ‘at least we’re dressed’?” Harry demanded in exasperation, but he accepted Auggie—or Owen’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He offered his own hand to Ginny as soon as he was standing and pulled her up.

“It’s nearly two o’clock,” Draco explained. “We’ve been searching for you for hours.”

Ginny and Harry exchanged startled glances. “You have?”

“Professor Snape organized search parties,” Owen said as he looked around. “And we’re supposed to set off this firework now that we’ve found you—your brothers had some with them, oddly enough,” he said to Ginny. He plucked a star-shaped firework from his pocket and activated it by tapping one of the points. It shot into the sky and erupted in a spray of green and orange sparks. “Everyone is supposed to meet back at the Manor—the front steps.”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered.

“We won’t tell them we found you asleep together,” Owen said with a shrug.

“I think they might come to the conclusion on their own,” Draco pointed out.

“We didn’t-” Harry closed his mouth at Draco’s skeptical look. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. As the sparks rained downward, fizzling out, his father’s flames burst with life again. Harry cringed as his father called his name; it was if the flames were burning him.

Harry?! The call was nearly as frantic as Harry had ever heard it.

Yes, I’m here, he answered resignedly. And I’m all right, he added quickly before he was asked. There was no coherent rage; just the flames snapping furiously. Perhaps ignoring his father earlier hadn't been such a good idea...

“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Ginny was saying; her teeth were chattering a bit. She rubbed briskly at her arms.

“Here,” Harry said, shrugging out of his formal robes. Before Ginny could protest, he draped the heavy fabric around her shoulders and fastened the clasp. His hands lingered around the clasp, as he found himself caught in her unexpected smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly. Harry nodded, feeling shaky all over again. A wisp of her hair blew over her cheek then, and automatically his fingers strayed to brush it away. Her smile wobbled a little and Harry immediately regretted it. He regretted being found even more. He would have liked nothing more than to kiss her right then, no matter that she’d said they needed to spend some time apart...

“Maybe next time, the two of you should think about some tents or least a Warming Charm or two if you plan to spend the night outside,” Draco said with a pointed look at Harry’s wand which was sticking out of Harry’s trousers pocket.

“Didn’t you even hear Harry?” Ginny asked with a bit of a bite to her tone now. “We didn’t plan it.”

Draco and Owen exchanged looks as they turned around. “The Manor is this way,” Owen said, which cut off Ginny’s retort.

“We weren’t lost,” she said instead; her irritation was growing steadily now that they weren’t alone.

“How long have you been looking for us?” Harry asked, fighting his natural instinct to reach out and take Ginny’s hand as they followed the other two.

“All night,” Draco said sourly; he wrapped his own cloak around himself as the breeze whipped his blond hair. “Severus is pretty mental when it comes to you, you know.”

Yes, Harry did know; he ignored the observation however. “Who else is looking for us?”

“Everyone who was still there when you pulled your little disappearing act,” Draco answered.

“We weren’t-”

“Listen, Potter,” Draco interrupted, “I don’t care if you and Ginny were shagging. You don’t need to deny it for my sake.”

Without warning, Ginny grabbed Draco’s arm and spun him around. Draco’s wide, silver eyes glinted in the moonlight. Ginny jabbed her wand, which was now lit by a Lumos, close to Draco’s face. “You can just keep your filthy thoughts to yourself, Malfoy, or I’ll hex your mouth closed for you.”

Ahead of them, August snorted. He held his hands up in surrender when Ginny turned her glare on him. “Funny image,” he told her through a grin. A familiar jealousy clawed at Harry then, and he very suddenly began to feel like his stomach would twist itself into so many knots, it might never untangle. She’d only wanted to slow things down. It was easier to breathe if he didn’t question it. He'd let her have some time... that was all she needed to sort everything out-

“Harry? You coming?” August called from ahead. Harry ducked his head, away from Ginny’s dark brown eyes and began walking again.

They continued onward, Ginny walking ahead of Harry, but not quite catching up with August, off the tiny stretch of beach and through the dense forest of trees again. It was too dark to seem familiar to Harry; he didn’t even try to retrace his steps, allowing August and Draco to lead the way. Good thing August had come, he supposed. Since alone, Harry wouldn’t have trusted Draco to lead him anywhere.

“Couldn’t you and Ginny have found a secluded spot a bit closer to the Manor?” Draco complained as he picked his way over a fallen log.

Harry ignored him—pointedly he hoped. But Draco didn’t take the glaring hint.

“Why did you even need to find such a private place, if you weren’t doing anything?”

“We were talking. Ever heard of it?”

Draco glanced sideways at him. “Touchy, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Maybe that was pointed enough. Draco pursed his lips; he leaned his head in closer to Harry’s.

“Look. Severus was pretty upset… but I guess he will be more relieved that you’re all right than angry because he had to look for you all night.” He shrugged when Harry turned his head to stare at him. “And there’ll be too many people there to do anything right away… so maybe if you explain quickly, it won’t be as bad.”

As bad? Harry didn’t think the Slytherin was talking about Severus lecturing him.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, unsure what else to say. Draco shrugged again.

“I just know Severus has a temper, that’s all. He’s like my father that way,” he said quietly. Harry felt disloyal somehow when he didn’t refute Draco’s assumption that Severus would discipline him the same way Lucius disciplined Draco, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to explain it after Draco had made himself vulnerable.

He met Draco’s eye again, and the other boy smiled just a little and turned his head forward again. They continued on in silence. The trees began to thin after they’d walked for a long time, finally fading into the clearing near the cliff where Ginny had first met him. Ron and Hermione, with McGonagall between them, were already coming toward them.

“Are you all right?” Hermione was calling anxiously. She hugged both of them tightly and then August, thanking him and Draco. Ron folded his hands over his chest and scowled, first at Hermione and August, and then at Harry.

“You aren’t hurt?” McGonagall demanded tartly, looking them over with narrowed eyes.

“No ma’am,” Harry said.

“Where were you?” Ron demanded.

“We took a walk,” Ginny said wearily; she bunched Harry’s cloak around her shoulders as the wind whipped the fabric around her. “We were talking and we fell asleep.”

“You expect us to believe that?”

“It’s none of your business,” Ginny retorted.

“Ron, just leave it,” Hermione suggested quietly.

“They were asleep when we found them,” August volunteered from beside her. Ron narrowed his eyes, his gaze snapping between August and Hermione, but seemed to find it prudent not to challenge the taller man.

That wariness didn’t extend to Harry; Ron grabbed his arm as Harry walked past.

“You’ve been alone with Ginny all night,” he said, his voice still heavy with accusation.

Harry pulled his elbow away. “So?”

Ron’s cheeks pinked. “So? You disappear with Ginny for hours, just to talk? Where the hell did you go?”

“Bugger off, Ron,” Harry snapped. He wanted Ron to yell back, or better move a little closer, so that he could shove him. Or hex him, though that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as a good shove.

“You disappeared with my sister all night!”

“We didn’t do anything, you stupid git!” Harry yelled. “We never did anything!”

“Like hell you didn’t!” Ron snarled, pushing his face right up to Harry’s. “Do you think we’re all stupid? What were you doing all night, eh?”

“None of your damned business!” Harry shouted; he shoved Ron’s shoulder so that Ron was no longer breathing in his face.

“So you did do something then!” Ron retorted loudly and then Harry was being shoved with two hands against his chest, and away from his best mate. Incensed, Harry could have punched Ron right in the jaw, but Ron had had hours to stoke his own anger and he swung first as Harry straightened up.

“Ron!” two female voices protested in one breath as Harry was knocked backward into Draco. Harry could have sworn as Draco grabbed his arms and righted him again, that the Slytherin was grinning.

Pulling himself away from Draco, Harry launched himself at Ron, who was ready, and apparently quite willing to fight. But there wasn’t much of a chance.

“Harry!”

“Ron?”

Harry struggled as he was yanked away from Ron. “What’s going on?” It was Remus’ voice next to his ear.

“What the hell are you doing, Ron?” That one was Bill, who was fighting to restrain a flailing Ron.

“Harry spent the night with Ginny, that’s what’s going on,” Ron managed to say as he struggled for breath.

Harry opened his mouth, about to retort or to re-launch himself at Ron if Remus would allow it, but Ginny stepped between the two mates.

“We didn’t do anything, Bill Weasley, so you just wipe that look off your face. You two as well,” she added coldly to the twins as they appeared behind Ron and Bill. “And as for you, Ron-”

“Ginny,” Remus interrupted calmly, “I think the best thing is for everyone to cool off. Nothing is going to be solved by yelling at one another… or with blows.”

“It’s Harry’s fault,” Ron began heatedly.

“No, it isn’t,” Harry snapped. Remus gave his bicep a light, admonishing squeeze. Harry swallowed down another angry retort and shook his head. “You’re the one who ruined everything,” he muttered as he wiped his mouth; the back of his hand came away smeared with blood.

Ron’s face was screwed up into an ugly scowl, but Bill nudged him—not exactly gently—with an elbow. “Belt up, Ron,” he said quietly. “Are you all right?” he asked his little sister. Ginny nodded; her hands had relaxed their defiant stance on her hips. “How about you, Harry? All right?”

Though he was surprised to have been asked, Harry nodded. He’d expected Bill to begin an interrogation, at the very least. Not that Bill looked friendly either. Harry looked away from him.

“Will you be all right if I let go now?” Remus asked quietly. At Harry’s quick nod, Remus released him, and then handed him a dampened handkerchief; blood was still trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Either calm down or Fred and George can take you back home,” Bill was saying to Ron, who still looked like he wanted to land at least one more blow to Harry’s jaw. Harry expected Ron to snap at his brother, but he only muttered under his breath and with Bill’s loosened grip, he wrenched himself away and stomped toward the Manor steps. Fred and George exchanged looks with Bill before following after their younger brother.

Harry glanced at Hermione then. She was staring at Ron’s retreating back with her bottom lip between her teeth. No one spoke as they watched the three Weasleys Disapparate away.

“And he's your best mate?” Draco asked out of the side of his mouth, sotto voce.

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said irritably. Draco’s exaggeratedly wide-eyed, offended look didn’t last long. Running footsteps and the sounds of frantic adults crashing through the edge of the forest had the group turning, Harry the most reluctantly. And of course he tensed when Severus stormed through the foliage; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were coming from the opposite direction but Harry paid little attention to them.

Harry wanted to step back as soon as he met his father’s eyes, but Draco and August were right behind him, blocking his retreat. Harry hadn’t seen his father so livid since he’d Flooed from Severus’ office to Remus’ quarters, all those months ago.

Bill and Remus stepped aside as Severus strode into the clearing; Ginny had already been gathered up into her mother’s trembling arms. Daniel was just a few steps behind Severus and he looked relieved to find Harry there.

Severus’ furious pace slowed a little as he caught sight of Remus’ bloodied handkerchief; it was still in Harry’s hand. “What happened?” he demanded as soon as he was close enough that he didn’t need to raise his voice. Before Harry could answer, his chin was pulled up; his father’s gaze zeroed in Harry’s lip, which by this point was feeling swollen and sore.

“Weasley punched him,” Draco volunteered helpfully.

“Not me,” Bill said quickly when Mr. Weasley turned to gape at him. “Ron.”

“Why?” Severus rapped out, and Harry realized his father was much angrier than he was allowing himself to show.

“Because,” Ginny said as she extracted herself from her mother, “he wouldn’t listen when we tried to tell him that Harry and I fell asleep.” There were four confused faces at that answer—six now as the group was joined by Dumbledore and Margaret.

“We went for a walk and sat down to talk.” She stressed the word, as if should have held some meaning for her parents. “We fell asleep,” Ginny explained again.

Harry would have explained for them, but Severus was still gripping his chin; Harry wondered if he realized he was.

No one said anything.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “We did.”

Her parents glanced at one another, but either they believed her or they didn’t want to press the issue in the overcrowded clearing. “All right Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley finally said. “I think we’d best go on home now. Are you all right?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Ginny answered, her meaning clear to Harry. Pressure against the sides of his chin had Harry bringing his eyes up to his father’s.

“You and I need to have a lengthy discussion,” Severus said in a low tone, meant for only Harry to hear; it made it more menacing somehow. “In private.”

Harry’s insides reacted unpleasantly to the pronouncement, but he managed not to let on—or so he hoped. “All right,” he answered steadily.

His father narrowed his eyes. He released Harry’s chin. “Say goodnight to Ginny and the others,” he ordered curtly. Annoyed at everyone, but especially his father, Harry wanted to refuse. But it would serve no purpose, since Ginny was leaving anyway with or without a goodbye. Not that it would be much of one anyway, with everyone else gawking at them, and Ginny was standing in between her parents; neither one of them looked like they were planning to leave her side.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” Ginny finally said.

“It isn’t your fault.” It was partly her fault, but Harry wasn’t about to say so.

They stared at each other awkwardly. Mrs. Weasley intervened after a minute. “It’s late…”

Neither one of her parents looked at him as they shepherded Ginny away, Harry noticed. And Bill was silent as he followed them. The final spell to bury the coffin, as far as Harry was concerned. Ginny was gone. All of the Weasleys were gone.

“Severus, Harry’s lip needs tending to.”

Harry barely noticed as Margaret cupped his chin gently and performed a quick diagnostic. His lip and lower jaw began to tingle as she numbed the area.

“Your father can renew the spell if you need it,” she said quietly. Harry nodded silently. “How does that feel now?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Let your father know if it does.” Margaret studied his face a moment longer before letting him go.

“Thank you for assisting in the search for Harry,” Severus said stiffly to those who were still gathered. “Now, if you will pardon us.”

Harry’s mortification quickly changed to anger anew as his father waited pointedly for him to go first before he began walking toward the Manor, as if Harry was a child who needed to be watched at all times.

His anger fizzled measurably though as he found himself past the wide steps in the chandeliered entrance. He really didn’t want to go back to Tobias’ office, but he wasn’t sure if the grand dining hall was the sort of place where one had a row.

The heavy front door closed with a thud behind them and in the silence, he realized his father was no longer following him. Harry turned around slowly; Severus’ lips were taut with fury.

“Explain yourself,” he said tightly, so that his lips barely moved. Problem solved. Apparently his dad wanted to have their row right here under the chandelier.

“We fell asleep.”

“You know perfectly well that that is not what I mean,” Severus snapped. “You refused to acknowledge me when I attempted to speak with you through our connection. When you knew full well that I was looking for you!”

“You put your barriers up,” Harry reminded him quietly. You shut me out first.

“One has nothing to do with the other.” His father’s black eyes were snapping with ire.

Harry didn’t respond; he watched his father’s jaw flex.

”Why did you not answer?” he demanded when Harry allowed the silence to stretch on.

“Ginny and I were talking.”

His calm tone seemed only to irritate his father further. “And you could not spare one moment to answer my summons?”

Harry met the query with silence. What was he supposed to say, except that he hadn’t wanted to answer?

“Have you any idea how worried I was?” Severus went on. “Ginny’s parents were frantic.”

“You knew we were all right,” Harry pointed out. He didn’t exactly mean to make the comment as flippant as it came out.

“No, I did not,” Severus growled and Harry’s stomach flip-flopped. “When I could not contact you, I imagined all manner of scenarios, each more gruesome than the next.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, the words coming automatically at the tremor of lingering anxiety in his father’s voice.

“Are you?” Severus demanded.

It would have been easy enough to lie, and part of him even wanted to since his father obviously had no compunction about lying to him. And remembering that—the reason he’d ignored his dad’s mental summons in the first place—stirred his ebbing anger.

He clenched his jaw and glanced away. “No.”

Anger radiated between them, and without even looking Harry knew his father had narrowed his eyes. But Harry didn’t care. He didn’t. He glued his eyes to the massive front doors and waited for his father to continue with his lecture.

“And the fact that you could have put Ginny in danger? Or that you were reckless, inconsiderate and immature?” Severus’ voice was tightly controlled; Harry’s gaze shifted back to his father’s face.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said dully; the aching, hollow feeling began to take hold again at the reminder of Ginny.

“Traipsing about all over a property which you are not familiar is your idea of a sound plan?” The sarcasm would have bothered Harry if he wasn’t so numb.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Harry said in that same flat tone; he had looked away again.

“What were you thinking about then?” Severus demanded exasperatedly. Harry didn’t answer.

Ginny, he wanted to say. Ginny and how she was about to break up with me…

Severus made a low noise—more of a growl than a sigh. And then a terse, “Come with me,” had Harry’s head jerking up. Severus didn’t wait to see if Harry would obey—he pivoted on a booted sole, clipped down the corridor and made another sharp left so that he was standing in front of the door to Tobias’ study.

Harry stood there, staring down the shadowed corridor, and at the little bit of the study’s cream-colored wall that was visible. Severus made a terse gesture toward the study. Too tired of fighting to even protest another trip into that awful room, Harry complied, even though his feet were heavy as he retraced his earlier steps... thinking about what Draco had said to him.

Severus turned into the room before Harry reached it, and slowly—and wishing he had never overheard Margaret and Remus talking to his father—he stepped into the room. Before he even came to a full stop, his stomach turned to ice. Severus was turning around, back toward the door, the Snape family strap in his hands.

Then his father looked up. His lips, half-open, froze as his dark eyes met Harry’s. Confusion, and then hurt swelled Harry’s storm. Neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity.

Slowly, as if slow motion, his father closed his mouth. With quiet, unerringly calm footsteps, Severus walked to the fireplace next to an antique grandfather clock, and placed the ruby strap on top of the glowing coals. He flicked his wrist and flames filled the hearth. Harry watched the fire consuming the family heirloom; he didn’t even realize he was staring until Severus turned around.

And then he noticed a scroll in his father’s hand—the same one he’d been reading earlier, before their row. His face perfectly still, Severus handed the scroll to Harry.

“That is why I called you in here,” he said softly, and before Harry could take that in, his father walked past him and out of Tobias’ study.

Harry swallowed through the sudden, painful swelling in his throat as Severus’ footsteps faded down the corridor. The flames were spitting as they burned through the curling and blackening leather. The weight of the past several days settled over Harry like a lead cloak, and his legs seemed unable to support him any longer. He slumped in the chair across from the fireplace. He could feel the moisture gathering in his eyes; he tried to blink it away, to force it back but the effort only clogged his throat even more.

1997

“Does Master Snape wish Schminge to make up the bed in the master suite?”

Severus’ head came up at the intrusion; he had been staring at nothing in particular as he sat in the marble entrance to his parents’ home. His mother’s house-elf was staring up at him with wide, nervous eyes. Master Snape now, instead of Master Severus, as he had been addressed for the past four decades. And he was being offered the master suite, a domain which had been reserved for his parents.

Off-limits to Severus.

But here was Schminge, his mother’s elderly house-elf, waiting expectantly for instructions from his new master. The new head of the Snape line.

As he sat, surrounded by the opulence of the enormous chandelier, Severus felt the crushing weight of his parents’ presence. The weight had been with him since Albus had brought him news of his mother’s imminent death; he just hadn’t recognized it.

It had been eating away at him for days. Straining each interaction with his son, he realized now. Enough that he had seen fear in Harry’s eyes as they’d faced off in Tobias’ study.

How Severus loathed that room.

Even more, now that he’d managed to alienate Harry to the point of such distrust. All of which was unquestionably Severus’ fault. Not that he wasn’t angry with Harry for ignoring him earlier. He was extremely displeased, to say the least. And that had obviously been all too clear to Harry. But even as furious as he’d been, for Harry to believe, even for a second, that Severus would strike him—with that damn piece of red leather, of all things-

Severus shook his head, his teeth grinding together.

“We are not staying,” Severus finally said gruffly in answer to Schminge’s question.

Schminge blinked several times. “But it is the middle of the night, Master Snape,” he protested. He wrung his hands agitatedly. “And Master Harry will be tired. Schminge is happy to serve-”

“We are returning home,” Severus interrupted firmly as he stood up from the carved bench in the entryway—his muscles made him aware of just how long he’d been sitting there. If nothing else, Harry should have cooled down by now.

“Home?” Schminge asked in confusion. “Master Snape does not intend to reside here?”

“No, Master Snape does not,” Severus said impatiently. If given the choice, I would never set foot in this miserable house again.

Ignoring the quiet squeak of surprise from the elf, Severus turned and retraced his steps back to the study. He paused just outside the door, taking the moment to quiet his still-churning emotions. Harry would likely have lost most of the belligerent attitude which he’d begun the night with. Actually, Severus was rather surprised that Harry hadn’t ventured out—perhaps he was still as angry as he’d been earlier.

Severus scowled at the thought. He really did not want to have another row with his son, which was why he’d wanted to explain his most recent sin, but if Harry was determined, there would be little recourse. That realization irritating him even more, Severus turned the knob and pushed the door open. His irritation quickly drained away.

Harry was in the chair closest to the nearly cold fire, curled into a ball. Even in the dim light, Severus could see that the skin around his closed eyes was red and puffy… he’d been crying. Severus’ eyebrows drew together as he crossed the thick carpet.

His chest constricted as guilt settled in.

Harry looked so small, his body scrunched as it was; using his upper arm for a pillow as his shoulder squished into the chair’s corner. Severus swept his dirtied and ragged robes out of the way—a casualty to the search through the dense forests earlier—and sat in the chair opposite.

He leaned forward as he studied his son’s face. If not for the evidence of the recent tears, he would have looked extremely peaceful. Except perhaps for the lip which Ron had bruised so expertly.

Severus settled his hand lightly on Harry’s head and with feathered fingers, brushed the few strands away that had fallen over his eyes. He looked so young, so like the little boy Severus had once held in his arms.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and Severus found himself smiling slightly at the cloud of confusion in the green eyes.

“You fell asleep,” Severus explained quietly as he pulled his fingers from the untidy bird’s nest his son called hair. Harry blinked several times, and slowly unbent his body from the stiff corners of the chair.

“Sorry…” Harry murmured into his lap, and the smile which was forming on Severus’ lips in response to the lines crisscrossing Harry’s cheek, immediately vanished. So, they had backtracked far enough that Harry was apologizing for falling asleep.

Parchment crinkled as Harry rubbed the back of his hand against his lined cheek. Severus frowned as he noticed the scroll for the first time. It was still neatly secured by the brown ribbon.

“You did not read it?” he asked, the surprised words sharper than he had intended. Harry’s fingers curled around the scroll—in either nervousness or defense, Severus could not be certain.

“No, sir.”

The whispered words nearly unbalanced Severus then and he only just managed to quell the urge to rip the scroll from his son’s hand. He would not allow them to retreat nine months. Especially not when they were sitting in Tobias’ damned study.

“I would prefer Severus over that blasted title,” he snapped. Obviously, he was less in control than he had thought.

Harry’s eyes snapped up, but he looked back down to his lap just as quickly. His fingers were twisting the scroll mercilessly.

Severus drew in a slow breath, and did all he could to banish his father from his thoughts—it was nearly impossible in this dark, wood-paneled study. “Perhaps you should read it,” he finally said, making certain his voice was level this time. “I wanted to explain why I have been irritable the past few days.” He paused. “I should have told you when you first asked.”

Harry looked up again, for which Severus was extremely grateful. “I don’t need to,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have been-”

“Perhaps it would be best to let our recriminations lie,” Severus interrupted. “And,” he continued in an even voice, “I do wish you to know.”

Harry glanced down at the scroll. “Can’t you just tell me…?”

Severus’ impulse was to refuse. But his fears that Harry might be disappointed in him seemed rather ludicrous, now that Harry had all but accused him of being the very bastard he had tried so hard to distance himself from.

“It is a letter from my mother,” Severus said, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his legs, continuing the fiction of nonchalance. “Her last words, in essence.” Severus considered summoning Schminge for a tumbler full of Tobias’ oldest scotch. But since that would serve only to cement his legacy as his father’s son, he dismissed the desire. “She felt it her duty, I suppose, to detail each one of my sins.” Severus smiled wryly as Harry’s eyes widened. “Most of the letter was spent detailing how I’d sullied the esteemed Snape and Prince lines with my marriage to your mother.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed—indignance, Severus supposed. Well, that would be short-lived…

“The last few paragraphs of the letter,” he continued, “were in reference to what I considered just punishment for her actions against your mother and James… and you.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew together. “…punishment?”

“Revenge is a more apt description,” Severus said, his voice soft now. Tired of the pretense of calm, Severus stood and went to stand in front of the fireplace. He stared at the charred and broken strap of red leather. Satisfaction for destroying that which had delivered so much pain surged through him. He attempted to temper it with forced regret for the painful curse he’d inflicted on his mother, but it was in vain.

She had deserved it.

“I cursed her—after you showed me how she threatened your mother,” he said to the faintly glowing embers. He heard Harry’s quiet intake of breath; Severus closed his eyes. No stopping this now. “Semper Desparo… always despair. I forced her to feel every nuance of pain that she and my father ever inflicted upon me.”

“Oh.”

The soft utterance startled Severus. Oh?

He turned around; Harry was watching him with intense green eyes.

“And you’re feeling guilty now… because that’s what killed her?” The question came slowly from Harry’s lips, as if he was trying to understand Severus’ hesitation.

“No,” Severus said tiredly. At least he wouldn’t appear as monstrous as Harry was assuming. “Her healers at St. Mungo’s were able to mask most of the pain she was feeling, but the curse left her weaker than she already was. My mother did have an incurable wizard’s disease, just as I told you several months ago. She would have died even without my revenge, though it happened more swiftly due to my curse.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he pressed his lips together. “Could your mother have been sent to Azkaban for what she did?”

“For conspiring with Death Eaters to murder three innocents, one of them a child—the Savior of the Wizarding World, no less?”

Harry nodded, not reacting to the sneer in Severus’ tone. “So, yes then?”

“If I had brought the information to the proper authorities, yes.”

“And you think what you did was worse than a year spent in Azkaban?” Harry asked. He nodded again at Severus’ silence. “But you thought I would,” he said quietly.

“I assumed you would be disappointed in my cruelty toward my own mother.” The admission finally loosened something in Severus’ chest.

Harry shrugged; his eyes were suspiciously dull. “I think you probably did her a favor. I nearly lost my soul twice to the Dementors, remember? Even someone as foul as Bellatrix suffered more than necessary in Azkaban.” He shifted in the hard chair. “Hermione spouts off all the time about how the legal system needs to be reformed in the wizarding world. I think she’s right.”

Severus surveyed his son, watching as his unusually pale features stayed too still. “Your anger over my choice would be perfectly understandable,” he started to stay.

“I’m not angry,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me… before you told people who are virtual strangers to you.” There was an edge of sullenness in Harry’s tone just then, to which Severus raised an eyebrow.

“I have known Daniel for the better part of three decades.”

“And Margaret too…” Harry murmured.

“She was Eileen’s healer-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I would appreciate it if you allow me to complete my sentences,” Severus said mildly. Harry glanced at him briefly, but said nothing. “My silence on this matter has nothing to do with my level of trust in you,” Severus continued. “I would simply have preferred that you not know.”

Harry was silent for a moment, and Severus had the distinct impression that Harry was ensuring that Severus was finished with his sentence.

“Dumbledore and Remus both knew,” Harry finally said wearily, and Severus remembered that it was not quite dawn. Harry clearly needed sleep, but there was something else going on here, besides Harry being hurt that he wasn’t included in Severus’ supposed inner circle. And neither of them was going to sleep until Severus discovered what that was.

“Albus knows everything,” Severus pointed out. No answering smile. “And Remus knows only because I asked him to come along with me—in case I was unable to restrain myself when I went to cancel the spell two nights past.”

Harry’s eyes flew up again. “You cancelled the curse?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Severus wasn’t certain he could put the reason into words. But for Harry, he would attempt it. “I have held on to my anger toward my parents for far too long. Eileen’s suffering changed nothing.” As explanations went, Severus wasn’t particularly proud of that one, but Harry seemed to understand. “And as for why I did not wish to explain my revenge to you…” Severus smiled a little. “No one else’s opinion is quite as important to me as yours.”

Harry swallowed hard as he nodded. He said nothing, instead turning to face the dead fire once more. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to…”

Severus followed his son’s gaze. “What? Assume that I would beat you with my father’s strap for your refusal to speak with me?”

He watched with regret as Harry flinched at the blunt words. But it was far past time to end this.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Harry said in a strained voice. “Not even if you were really angry.”

“Oh, I assure you, I was quite angry,” Severus said, feeling surer of himself now that Harry was at least looking at him. “Nothing short of the Imperius Curse would have forced me to strike you, however.”

“I know…” Harry whispered. He stood abruptly; the scroll hit the floor and Harry took a few pointless, agitated steps toward Tobias desk. His hand was balled into a fist as it rested on the slick wood; his arm was trembling. Coming toward his son, Severus took Harry’s chin and tilted his face upward. Harry’s lashes were damp; the skin around his eyes and nose was becoming blotchy.

Severus hadn’t seen his son cry since Black’s death. And he had never, not even then, looked as vulnerable and small as he did now. “What is wrong?” Severus probed quietly into the unbroken silence of his father’s dark study.

When Harry’s words emerged, they were barely a croak. “Ginny… broke up with me.”

Dull pain stabbed Severus deep in his abdomen as he stared, dumbfounded, at his son; Harry stared back at him with tears in his eyes.

Harry’s lips were quivering slightly and he was blinking and swallowing in a futile attempt to get his emotions under control. Feeling as numb as Harry must feel, Severus’ hand slid around to squeeze the back of his son’s neck lightly. With that silent invitation, Harry let his head fall so that the top of the black mop was resting lightly against Severus’ chest.

Harry’s attitude since he’d stood in the clearing outside the steps made sense now. His reticence, most especially. The dull ache of pain in Severus’ chest was blossoming into something more consuming as he wove his fingers through the black strands at the base of Harry’s neck. Fury was a part of that. Black anger at Ginny’s parents.

He couldn’t imagine that this had been Ginny’s idea. He’d watched her with his son. And Severus knew without a doubt in his mind that she was the match to Harry’s soul, as much as Lily was to his.

Severus decided then, as he listened to Harry trying to calm his hitching breaths, that he would have a few words with Molly and Arthur as soon as possible. A very unpleasant few words.

--

With his father’s fingers making soothing patterns against his scalp, Harry nearly lost his tenuous grip on his emotions. But he’d already cried enough. He didn’t want to cry again, especially not right now.

“What happened?” Severus asked quietly; the words vibrated against the top of Harry’s head.

Harry sniffed, trying to block his sinuses’ efforts to sneak a few tears through. His dad’s hand imparted comfort again as Harry wiped the majority of the slobber away with his sleeve. “I don’t know,” he mumbled into the fabric. “She said she was afraid…”

A pause long enough for Harry to swallow through the swelling in his throat. “Afraid of what?”

“Ruining things, like Ron and Hermione.”

“Have Ron and Hermione separated?” Severus asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“I don’t know… Ginny made it sound that way.”

His father was quiet for what seemed like a long time, before asking, “And Ginny fears that you will pressure her?”

That was the worst part, and Harry could only breathe, “No.”

Severus took that in. “But she is worried about the consequences of a sexual relationship with you.”

“Yeah…” Harry’s throat felt scraped raw. He allowed his father’s hand to stay where it was until he was certain he had his emotions under control. He lifted his head, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he began to see stars. “She said she needed space… or time, or something…” Harry shook his head and let his hands fall. The stars swam slowly as light crawled back. “I didn’t even do anything! I wouldn’t…”

“Did you express these feelings to her?” Severus asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I tried to, but I was surprised as hell. I’ve told her I would never do anything she didn’t want to do. It’s been clear all along. Ginny said it wasn’t her mum’s idea, and that simply makes it worse, doesn’t it?” Losing his small burst of energy, Harry swallowed and shook his head. “Two years…”

Unsurprisingly, his father’s head tilted in confusion.

“She still has two more years at Hogwarts… I don’t know why that should matter.”

“You would be separated for an entire year. She is most likely thinking practically-”

“That’s a whole year away!” Harry ran a hand roughly through his hair as his shoulders slumped.

“It is not unreasonable for Ginny to be thinking of a future with you,” Severus said calmly.

“I don’t care about that.” Harry shook his head as his throat began to burn again. “I don’t care about any of it. I’d rather be with Ginny, with a charm that wouldn’t allow me even to hold her hand, than have things as they are now.”

His father glanced above his head, a faraway look in his black eyes. “Yes,” he murmured, “I believe I understand the sentiment.” He turned his attention slowly back to Harry. “And… I have no doubt that Ginny feelings toward you have not diminished.”

“Then why is she doing this?” Harry made a noise of frustration as he swiped at his eyes for the hundredth time.

“Because,” Severus said with a voice full of surety on the subject, “she has yet to discover what you have already.”

Harry had no idea what his father meant. Severus nodded, as if he understood Harry’s confusion.

“Sex is powerful, have no misconceptions on that point. Love, on the other hand, is in a different league altogether. As Albus once explained to you, I believe…”

Harry understood that immediately. Love had defeated Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, and again on the wind-swept hill at Riddle Manor.

“Give her time to realize what she has given up,” Severus advised as Harry concentrated on the dark threads in his trousers-clad leg. He didn’t say anything, instead focusing on keeping his eyes from leaking again. How many bloody tears could he have in there anyway?

“I think perhaps we should go home so that you may sleep properly,” Severus suggested after a few more minutes of quiet.

Harry stood reluctantly. He didn’t want to stay here certainly, but somehow, he was in no hurry to go home again either.

“Are you feeling any pain in your lip?” Severus asked; he was gazing at Harry with narrowed eyes.

Harry glanced down automatically through a squint, though of course he couldn’t see where Ron had clocked him. “No,” he answered honestly. It didn’t hurt at all. It was just one more item to add to his list of all the things making this day the worst Harry had had in months. Brilliant.

“Your friend was no doubt in a rather poor frame of mind if he had just ended his relationship with Hermione.”

When you put it that way…

“Well, he still didn’t have to hit me.”

“A momentary lapse which he will most certainly regret,” Severus agreed. Harry sighed as his father turned to lead the way out of Tobias’ office.

“He always regrets them…” he half-mumbled to no one, but his mind was taken quickly from Ron’s sucker punch as he watched his father’s robes trailing along the wide wooden floorboards. They were ragged and caked with a thick layer of mud along the edges. His boots, Harry could see as they strode free of the fabric, looked even worse.

Harry nearly collided with his dad as Severus paused in the entryway so that Harry could fall in step beside him. Harry tried not to look away too quickly as Severus gave him his familiar half-smile, which was probably meant to be encouragement of some sort. He even attempted to return it, but as soon as his dad was looking ahead again, the tingle of dormant guilt overtook most of his thoughts. He couldn’t believe what a prat he’d been. He’d even said he wasn’t sorry for ignoring his dad earlier.

His anger at being excluded had drained away, now that he understood his father’s reticence, leaving a lot of room for remorse for his quick temper. And he hadn’t really needed to know. Harry stifled a sigh of frustration at himself.

“Where are your robes?” Severus had stopped walking, his hand poised to open the door. Harry had to clench his molars together tightly as Ginny’s face popped into his thoughts. With his dress robes around her small shoulders…

“Ginny has them,” he managed to say without starting the entire cycle all over again. “It was cold.”

“Mm,” Severus murmured as he pulled open the door with a sharp tug, “perhaps I will retrieve them this afternoon.” Harry didn’t like the dark tone of the suggestion.

“Dad-”

A loud pop cut off Harry’s protest and he immediately reached for his wad.

“It is only my mother’s house-elf,” Severus said blandly, not even breaking stride, and Harry had to swerve to avoid the knee-high elf in his path.

“Master Snape, sir!” the elf cried tremulously as Severus swept down the stairs to the lawn. Severus ignored him. “Schminge wishes to serve Master Snape!”

“We are returning to Hogwarts,” Snape said impatiently, not even turning around.

There were two more loud pops and the twitchy elf was prostrated in front of the last step, his face pressed into the damp grass.

Severus scowled down at the creature in his path. Before he could step over him though, Harry grabbed his arm. Schminge was mumbling into the earth. Making certain his father didn’t step on the prone elf, Harry crouched beside him.

“Schminge must go with Master Snape. Schminge must not lose his master. Schminge wishes to serve Master Snape.” And over and over the pleading, wretched litany spilled onto the lawn. Harry rose to his feet in one lithe movement.

“He wants to come with us,” he whispered as he leaned toward Severus. Severus made an impatient noise. “He’s begging…”

“We have no need of a house-elf at Hogwarts.”

Harry glanced down at Schminge, who was shaking miserably. “Don’t house-elves feel a bit lost without a master to serve? He’s not a bad one, is he? You know… like Kreacher?”

“He is harmless.”

“Well, then…” Harry shrugged.

“Harry,” Severus said on a sigh, “Schminge will have nothing to do at Hogwarts. And where would he live-”

“He could stay at the cottage,” Harry pointed out. “We’ll be there on holidays—even part of the summer-”

Schminge’s head lifted from the ground; his ears were quivering.

“Schminge wishes to serve Master Snape at his cottage,” he whispered. Severus held Harry’s imploring gaze for several long seconds before peering down his nose at the elf.

“You will need to ensure that the Manor is in good repair as well,” he said resignedly. Harry couldn’t help but smile as Schminge popped to his feet; he was bouncing on his soles.

“Master Snape is most kind to Schminge! Schminge will serve you most happily, Master Snape!”

“Yes, well,” Severus said stiffly as he extracted his hand from the elf’s grip, “you should really thank Harry.”

Schminge beamed at Harry. “Schminge is most grateful to Master Harry!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Schminge will go directly to Master Snape’s cottage!”

Severus nodded dismissively at the elf. To Harry, he said, “Shall we go?”

Schminge was quivering, looking near to bursting as Harry stepped close to his father.

“Dobby will be jealous, you realize,” Severus said.

Harry smiled weakly.

The brief spark of amusement faded from Severus’ eyes. He smiled a little as he put his arms around Harry’s shoulders. He didn’t speak but the smile took some of the tightness from Harry’s chest. Harry pressed his face into his dad’s shoulder again and let himself be whirled home.

1976

Severus lay on his back at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his fingers trailing close to Lily’s, but not touching them. Lily turned her head from the stars dotting the dark sky. She smiled when their eyes met.

“Thanks, Sev,” she said softly. “I knew you would understand what I meant.”

Severus nodded as he watched her green irises catch the starlight. He understood perfectly why Lily had told Collins that she wasn’t ready to take their relationship any further than the few snogging sessions they’d shared in the dustiest section of the library. Lily didn’t love the Ravenclaw.

As if anyone could love a Ravenclaw…

“You were right to end the relationship,” he told her and was graced with another smile.

His eyes traced the gentle downward curve of her lip as she turned her head away and spoke, “He was rather sore over it.”

Severus felt a surge of irritation at that. “Sore?”

Lily glanced at him, her lips slowly melting into a smile once more. “He took his necklace back… and he asked Margaret to the Spring Ball.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose sharply, and Lily laughed, the soft tinkling breaking over the otherwise soundless night.

“Don’t worry, she refused.”

Severus nodded.

“Have you changed your mind about attending the Ball?” Lily asked after a moment, and Severus’ heart increased its tempo briefly. But Severus knew that she didn’t mean the words as he wished she would. It was a friendly inquiry, nothing more.

“I have far too much studying to accomplish before the summer,” he answered quietly, his eyes on the stars once more. He could sense Lily’s gaze so he shifted his head toward her.

“So you’ve decided to accept Daniel Virala’s offer of an apprenticeship then?”

“Yes.”

“Your father agreed?” Lily asked softly, her eyes narrowing in concern.

“I convinced him that my talents could be put to good use...”

Lily’s fingers brushed his arm and a slight shiver coursed along Severus’ skin.

“Who will you attend with?” he asked to distract himself. The slow loss of Lily’s fingers made his chest ache briefly, but he focused on her eyes and the feeling abated.

Lily sighed. “It feels spoiled now,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll just study with you.”

Severus warred briefly with the silent shout of agreement that wanted to shoot past his lips. “I would certainly enjoy your company,” he said, a small smile the only evidence of his very real pleasure at the idea.

Lily smiled. “It’s a date then,” she said. She squeezed Severus’ hand, her eyes holding his. Severus’ heart pounded erratically and then Lily was once more staring up at the sky. Startled to find that Lily had not removed her hand, Severus stayed very still, wanting to keep that small gift for as long as he could.

--

1997

The roar of the Floo woke Harry up from a dream-infested sleep. Most of which had involved Eileen’s face superimposed over Ginny’s. Harry turned his head toward the wall and smashed the pillow over his face as he tried to banish the images from his mind. He didn’t even want to think about the psychological significance of that.

Levi gave an indignant squeak—probably at being dislodged from his place on Harry’s pillow—but Harry just buried his face into the mattress.

“Why is Draco Malfoy’s head floating in the Headmaster’s Floo?”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he dragged his pillow back off his head. Severus, his own hair akimbo as he in stood in his bare feet and dressing gown with a sloppily-tied knot around its waist, gazed down at him with a disgruntled frown.

“Huh?” was all Harry could come up with.

“Draco apparently wishes to speak with you. About Quidditch…?”

It took Harry a moment to remember that he’d agreed to go the Quidditch World Cup with Draco yesterday. “Why didn’t he just use our Floo?” he asked as he sat up. “What time is it?”

“It is not yet eight o’clock… and he has not been granted access,” Severus reminded him impatiently, retying his belt as he spoke.

“Right.” Harry sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Harry paused with his foot halfway into his trainer. “Erm… Dumbledore’s office?” He half-smiled as his father frowned. “I’ll take Levi with me, just in case.”

“Albus is there,” Severus pointed out, apparently not in the mood for levity after three hours of sleep. “And exactly what do you have to say to Draco about Quidditch?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as Harry shrugged his arms out of his button-up shirt—he’d fallen asleep with last night’s clothes on.

“I sort of told him I’d go to the World Cup with him…” Harry grimaced as his father’s eyebrows swept up to his fringe. Fumbling for a tee shirt in his bureau, and rejecting the green one Ginny liked so well, Harry tried to explain, “I wasn’t really paying attention when he asked me. I’ll just go tell him I can’t.”

Severus regarded him silently while Harry pulled a blue shirt on. Ginny had never remarked on that particular color bringing out his eyes, at least.

“Do you wish to go?” Severus finally inquired, once Harry had beckoned Levi to him and waited for the kylaria to settle on his shoulder.

“Not with Draco,” Harry said automatically.

Severus pursed his lips; it was perfectly clear what he was thinking. Without Ron and Ginny, who was he going to go with? Hermione certainly didn’t like Quidditch enough…

Harry swallowed, ignoring the burning along the back of his throat. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured.

“I believe Lupin would be interested in an invitation,” his father interrupted his exit. “And I have never attended a World Cup Match.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to still the tingling spread in his throat. “You haven’t?”

Severus shook his head. “I realize that it will not be nearly as enjoyable as it would be with your friends…” His fingers lifted slightly in a shrug.

Harry shook his head. It took him an extra few seconds to respond through the catch in his throat. “Sounds brilliant.”

Severus’ eyes smiled. “The Floo is open to the headmaster’s office,” he said, nodding toward the sitting room.

Harry nodded and turned toward the door. “Dad?” he said, pausing and swiveling his head back around. “You’re not really going to go speak to the Weasleys, are you?”

“If you would prefer I do not…”

Harry tried not to let the relief show on his face. “I don’t think it will help anything.” He didn’t add that he didn’t particularly want his dad to fight his battles. Nor did he want Ginny angry with his father, though why that should matter now, he had no idea.

“Very well,” Severus said with a single nod. Harry pressed his lips together as he studied his father’s face.

“Thanks though,” he added softly.

“Go speak with Draco,” Severus said in response, though he did look perfectly at ease.

Harry smiled a little and nodded, and with Levi purring on his shoulder, he went into the sitting room and through the Floo. Dumbledore smiled at him as soon as his feet hit the hearth rug.

“Good morning, Harry. And Levi.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Levi nodded regally.

“If you would step aside, I will retrieve Draco,” Dumbledore said pleasantly as he motioned Harry forward.

“Retrieve him, sir?”

“He is waiting in the network,” Dumbledore explained and with a few swishes of his wand, Draco’s face filled the green flames. “Ah, Draco,” Dumbledore said with another smile, “do step through.”

Draco was peering at Harry with narrowed eyes as soon as he was no longer encased in flames. Looking for bruises, probably…

“I will be just up on the landing above, should you need me,” Dumbledore interrupted the scrutiny. “Help yourselves to breakfast… or a sweet. Oh,” he said, his blue eyes brightening as he slipped a hand into a pocket, “this was delivered to the Great Hall this morning…from Surrey, I believe.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry murmured as he took the scroll being offered, wishing the note was from Ginny instead. Still smiling, Dumbledore made his way up the small winding staircase to the expansive bookshelves above.

Harry wasn’t the slightest bit interested in breakfast, and since he didn’t particularly want to spend any more time than was necessary with Draco, he stayed near the hearth rug.

“Who do you know in Surrey?”

“My cousin,” Harry answered before he really thought not to. Draco raised his eyebrows at the tidbit, but didn’t comment otherwise.

“What’s that?” Draco asked abruptly, his eyes riveted on Harry’s familiar.

“Levi,” Harry said resignedly, and held out his palm for Levi to occupy. “He’s a kylaria…my familiar.”

“Will he bite?” Draco asked, keeping his nose out of range.

“Only if I tell him to.”

Draco gave him an odd look at that but stretched his fingers toward the kylaria anyway.

“This is Draco,” Harry offered. Levi, it seemed, didn’t know what to make of the blond boy. He didn’t hiss at him, as he had Ron, but neither did he offer his head for a scratch. “He won’t hurt you,” Harry assured his familiar and then hoped he was telling the truth. Levi, ever trusting of his master, stretched his neck forward and allowed a quick pat from Draco. And then he hopped back onto Harry’s shoulder keeping his eyes glued to the young Slytherin. Draco eyed him warily for another moment before returning his attention back to Harry.

“So-” A quick glance for Dumbledore “-how was it?”

Harry stole a glance at the headmaster as well. His nose was buried in a book. “He didn’t do anything,” Harry answered as frankly as he could. Draco’s gaze sharpened. “Lectured me, you know…” Harry tried to sound as casual as he could, even though even that wasn’t the truth. Or at least, his father had never finished his lecture.

Draco stared at him for a long moment before nodding briskly. “I told you, didn’t I?” He nodded again. “My parents,” he began in a slightly haughtier voice, “were very pleased to hear of our plans.”

“Erm,” Harry tried to interrupt, “my father was actually hoping to take me-”

Draco smiled widely. “Perfect. My father would be delighted to host the group, naturally.” He waited expectantly for Harry to thank him.

“Well, I was hoping to bring Remus… Professor Lupin and maybe even Hermione if she wants to come-”

“Professor Lupin would be more than welcome, of course. Any friend of yours, and all that. Even Neville, though I expect he’d rather not.”

“I hadn’t thought of Neville…”

“Well, perhaps Owen then… He was Severus’ favorite before I came along. And he seemed sweet on Hermione, though he’s a bit old for her, isn’t he?” Again, that raised-eyebrow, expectant look that was entirely more disconcerting than it should have been.

“I…” Harry glanced at Dumbledore involuntarily as he tried to figure a way out of this. He caught the headmaster’s eye and immediately wished he hadn’t. Dumbledore’s face practically shone its approval of Draco’s plan.

“I’ll have to make sure it’s all right with my dad,” Harry heard himself saying even before he had torn his eyes away. And as he turned back to meet Draco’s wide smile, he almost took the words back. But what difference did it make if he went along? He was minus his girlfriend and his best mate, not to mention the people he’d considered family for the last six years. Even a day spent with the Malfoys couldn’t be worse than that.

--

Severus was in the shower when he stepped into their rooms ten minutes later, and Harry took the opportunity to burrow back under his covers, with Levi tucked close to his chest. The purring was the only thing keeping him from screaming out every single one of his frustrations.

When he heard the washroom door open and his father’s footsteps treading down the corridor, Harry had a wild hope that his dad would simply continue on to either his own room or straight to his lab. He didn’t of course, and Harry wasn’t particularly surprised when the mattress dipped.

“I take it that your discussion with Draco did not go as planned?”

Harry sighed as he turned from the wall, bringing Levi with him.

“If you do not wish Draco’s company, I will take care of it,” Severus said after Harry told him what had happened, but Harry shook his head. He didn’t wish for Draco’s company, but it wasn’t as if there were any other options at the moment.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said as he stroked Levi’s scaly head. “He’s better than…” He shook his head, not wanting to say ‘nothing’, since he still had his father, and that was certainly enough. “I got another letter from Dudley,” Harry added.

“Did you?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Was this letter as articulate as his last?”

“Haven’t read it yet,” Harry murmured, unable to find any amusement in the sarcasm.

“I spoke with Mr. August yesterday,” Severus said as he watched Harry’s fingertips pulling against the dragon’s neck as he stroked.

“I saw the two of you talking…”

“I believe it might be best for you to have an activity—or several—to occupy you just now.” The words were accompanied by Severus’ hand on Harry’s brow. “August suggested it to me yesterday… training with the Cannons, now that their season is over for the summer.”

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion, dislodging his father’s hand. “For me, you mean?”

“Yes, he said that the entire team had discussed it. They are apparently very keen on acquiring you as their Seeker.”

Harry went back to absently petting his familiar, whose purring was vibrating through Harry’s skin, buoying him.

“But I haven’t decided yet…”

“No,” Severus agreed. “Choosing to practice with the team will not mean a decision, however, which I made eminently clear to Mr. August.”

Harry only nodded as he puzzled out why he wasn’t giddy at the thought of spending hours playing Quidditch with a professional team. The idea held some appeal, certainly, but nothing even close to what he might have, before last night.

“You need not make an immediate decision,” Severus said as he reached out a long finger to trace the curl of Levi’s tail. He held the golden, triangular tail delicately between thumb and forefinger. “The offer is open indefinitely, Mr. August tells me.”

“Mr. August?” Harry questioned, his tone lightly teasing. “Malfoy said he was your favorite student.”

“Mm,” Severus murmured noncommittally. He released Levi’s tail; it flicked against Harry’s hand. “If you do not wish to the join the practices, there are several other options available.”

“Options?” Harry sat up, only realizing how wary the echo had been when his father smirked.

“An internship at the Ministry if you are so inclined—Albus has vouched for a man named Peter Joseph in the Magical Law Enforcement Office. Or an internship at St. Mungo’s… Healer Blunt offered to arrange it, of course. And Daniel has offered you employment at his shop for the summer...”

“Employment...” Harry had never even considered something like that. Severus shrugged slightly.

“You do not need the money, of course, and I would rather prefer you negotiated an apprenticeship with Daniel if the prospect does interest you.”

Harry felt a little dizzy with all the possibilities, but perhaps it had more to do with the idea that there was only one more year before he would be expected to know what he wanted. Or maybe it was because all he really wanted was to be sitting next to Ginny right now.

Harry let his head fall against the headboard, closing his eyes as he asked, “You can teach me anything about Potions though, can’t you?” Not that Harry had ever considered becoming any sort of Potions master.

“I believe Daniel thought you might be more interested in the business aspect of his work.”

Harry opened his eyes, unable to still his surprise. “I thought he wanted you to become his partner.”

“A father and son going into business together is not unheard of. Though he most likely realizes he will not get his wish, as far as I am concerned.”

Harry gazed at his father thoughtfully. “Why not though? I mean, you don’t really like teaching… do you?” he tacked on, realizing how offensive the comment might be.

“It would not have been my first choice, no.”

“What would have been?”

His father’s black eyes shone with amusement. “A procurer of Potions ingredients.”

Despite himself, that won a smile out of Harry. “Why don’t you agree to partner with Daniel then? Or at least think about it.”

“I have no desire to leave Hogwarts just now.”

“Well… yeah,” Harry said, the reasoning behind that making him feel warm, “but you could think about it for next year.”

“Perhaps.”

They sat comfortably in the ensuing silence, until Harry sighed. “I don’t really want an internship at the Ministry—not right now, or one at St. Mungo’s… not ever, I don’t think.” Harry shrugged as he pictured himself in Daniel’s shop. “And even if I did want to make a go of some sort of shop someday, not there. There aren’t enough windows.”

Far from befuddling his father, Severus nodded and Harry was relieved he didn’t have to explain that that he didn’t want to be trapped in a closed shop in Knockturn Alley all summer.

“Practicing with a professional Quidditch team tempts you though?” Severus asked.

“Sure. It’s the Cannons, and I do miss playing.”

“Then I see no reason why you should not accept the offer.”

Harry nodded slowly. The idea of flying with a team—in practice matches—would be a hell of lot better than chasing after Levi for the rest of the summer. Even if the excitement was dulled by knowledge that he wouldn’t even be able to tell Ron. And Ginny would have been so happy for him…

“Do you think they’ll want me to start today?” Harry asked quickly, not really feeling up to it, but what else was he supposed to do besides sit here and feel sorry for himself?

“Actually, I believe I could use your assistance with the inventory for the remainder of the day,” Severus said.

Confused, Harry’s eyebrows pulled together. His father raised his eyebrow pointedly, his chin angling downward just enough to pin Harry with his gaze. Harry’s gut tingled a little at that, but he nodded quickly.

“Erm… right.”

Severus nodded once before his posture relaxed. “You may, however, send him a letter to tell him you will be at tomorrow’s session.”

“Yeah, all right…” As Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, he thought again that he should probably apologize for the way he’d carried on at the Manor. He bit the edge of his lip as he considered it, his eyes on his knees.

A quiet pressure under his chin brought his eyes back up. “Get dressed and then we will have breakfast together.” Harry smiled, the urge to voice his regret draining away. Severus squeezed Harry’s jaw lightly before standing and turning toward the door and leaving him to make his way to the shower.

--

“Done,” Harry announced, setting the last flask of Zzyzzerbeck Oil on the shelf next to its mates. He glanced down at the list of each ingredient he’d ticked off in the last eight hours. “How about your end?”

Severus was counting the vials of Aardvark Toenails. “Fifteen,” he told Harry over his shoulder, and Harry added a fifteen and a tick to the box next to Aardvark Toenails.

“That completes the inventory, then,” Harry said.

“Excellent,” Severus said as he turned. He took the list Harry handed over, his eyes scanning it. “I will need to draft an order for Daniel…”

“I’ll draw it up for you,” Harry offered, holding his hand out for the long scroll. His father, looking pleased, gave it over and followed Harry out the door and back into the classroom. Severus rifled through several other parchments on his desk and handed another sheet to Harry as Harry inked his quill and sat at one of the tables.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, glancing at the list of additional ingredients. “I’ll have Hedwig take this along with my letter for Dudley after dinner. What time are Remus and Tonks expecting us?”

“At six-thirty,” Severus answered absently, already engrossed in one of his potions manuals. “Add Indian Flower to the list, if you would.”

Harry did, concentrating between the three lists so that he wouldn’t forget anything. “Do we need anything for the Repelling Potion?”

“Asphodel,” his father answered without pausing to think about it.

“Right,” Harry murmured as he jotted that down as well. “I used the last of it when I fouled up the last attempt…”

His father’s lips quirked, but otherwise didn’t comment. Harry continued on with the list, his hand just beginning to cramp up as he scrawled the final two requests.

“Isn’t there a spell I could have used?” he asked as he flexed his fingers.

“There is.” Severus checked over the list before spinning it into a neat roll and securing it with a deep blue ribbon. “It is extremely complex, however.”

Harry nodded as he tucked the scroll in his pocket, next to the one he’d written for Dudley. “Maybe you can show it to me next time.”

“Certainly,” Severus said quickly, and Harry didn’t miss the crinkling satisfaction around his father’s eyes.

They were in Remus’ rooms shortly afterward, and Harry found his own mood lifted by his godson, who spent most of the evening chewing a fist and gazing up a Harry.

“Flying with the Cannons!” Tonks exclaimed once Harry had detailed his plans for her and Remus. “You must be awfully excited.”

Harry wasn’t, not really, but he nodded anyway. He saw Remus exchange glances with his father, but found it difficult to resent. He’d be worried about himself too, if he’d had the energy for it.

“I think they’ll have you signed by summer’s end,” Tonks said with a cheery smile as she set a tea service on the low table in front of the settee.

“They don’t need a new Seeker yet,” Harry told her, smiling a little at Sirius as he gripped Harry’s finger in his little fist. “And I’ve got a whole year before I could accept anyway.” The prospect of that was entirely disheartening now. It would be like fourth year all over again, with Ron ignoring him… except that this time, he’d be missing Ginny as well. Too bad he couldn’t join the team now…

“The practices will be exhilarating enough on their own, I should think,” Remus said, smiling gently at Harry; Harry nodded silently as he concentrated on Sirius’ brown eyes watching him.

“When do you plan to return to work?” Severus asked, turning everyone’s attention to Tonks. Harry relaxed a bit then, and let the conversation float around him. It was easy enough to do, as long as he didn’t really let himself think too much beyond wondering how long it would be until he could elicit a smile from his tiny godson.

--

The next morning, Harry stumbled out of his bedroom, exhausted from a night spent staring at nothing in particular and still half-asleep. His father was scowling over the newspaper.

“What is it?” he asked wearily, dropping onto the empty chair beside his father at the table. And somehow, Harry wasn’t surprised at all by the bold, black headline emblazoned across the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Hero of the Wizarding World Heart-Broken.

At least not until he began to read the article below.

Harry Potter, who goes by Harry Snape in some circles, has been cast aside by his steady girlfriend, the beautiful vixen Ginevra Weasley. Harry is said to be stunned by the news, though there are whispers that Ms. Weasley has entertained numerous young men during the entirety of the year-long romance. Some say, even while he was in the midst of defeating He Who Must Not Be Named, she was in the arms of another-

“Buggering hell…”

Levi squawked as the paper went skidding across the tabletop, its pages scattering in all directions.

“It is not true,” Severus said quietly.

Harry didn’t answer; he knew it wasn’t true. He did. Nothing would convince him that Ginny had ever been unfaithful, but the image of her snogging some other bloke in the common room… or in a dark corridor, mocked him as he stared at the dark wood. Because eventually that’s exactly what would happen, wasn’t it?

While Ginny was waiting to figure out how to keep herself from shagging him, she was bound to meet other guys. And one of them would fancy her, wouldn’t they? And while Harry sat here waiting, she would eventually fancy him right back. The thought made Harry’s face heat with anger.

What the hell had he been thinking? Sitting there and agreeing with Ginny’s ridiculous plan? Because it was absurd. Ginny was going to shag someone eventually, and he’d be damned if it was anyone else.

His face still hot, his fingers tingling, Harry turned to his father. “I need to see Ginny.”

1997

“Harry, your indignation is not the most important issue at the moment,” Severus said quietly as he flicked his wand to put the tumbled Prophet pages back in order. “Ginny and her family will undoubtedly be extremely distressed by this article.”

“But it’s ridiculous! No one will believe it.”

“Just as no one believed that you lied about Voldemort? Or that I was attempting to bring you to him in October. Or that your mother was-”

“All right.” Harry closed his eyes and let his head thunk against the tabletop. He threaded his fingers together and pressed them against the back of his neck as he forced himself to calm down. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he finally mumbled. He lifted his head when his father didn’t answer. “Voldemort’s gone,” Harry said, even as he cringed at the plaintive note in his voice. “I was supposed to be able to just have a normal life.”

Severus’ lips quirked, though Harry didn’t understand why. “Harry, the article in the Prophet aside, there is nothing particularly abnormal in this situation.”

“Nothing abnormal!”

“A thoroughly unpleasant situation, yes, but one which is not unheard of, I assure you.”

Harry stared at his dad for a moment. “You’re thinking of mum?” he finally realized.

“Yes.” Severus held out his hand for Levi, who was watching Harry suspiciously; The kylaria stepped into Severus’ hand, relaxing a little as Severus stroked his neck. “I was your mother’s friend for six years.”

Six years.

Well, that was certainly the worst possibility that Harry had heard all morning. “I don’t want to be Ginny’s friend.” He shook his head as he watched Levi eyeing him. He held out his palm, giving the kylaria an encouraging smile. His eyes wary, Levi hopped onto his hand. “I can’t just sit here and wait,” Harry said as he slid his finger under Levi’s chin. “I can’t do nothing.”

“If you wish to speak to Ginny, I will Apparate you to her house after your practice,” his father said. “I do suggest, however, that you make certain your temper will not interfere with a rational conversation.”

Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t want to have a rational conversation. “Maybe I should visit the Prophet,” he finally muttered. Someone should get the brunt of this anger.

“Arthur and Molly will no doubt take care of it.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but Severus shook his head. “You are not visiting The Daily Prophet offices, Harry.”

Harry scowled at the table, and Severus sighed.

“Anything you say to anyone on the staff will be twisted to suit their own needs. It will not matter that you are defending Ginny.”

Even though he knew his father was right, it still rankled. “Should I… write her a letter then?” he asked as he looked up. “To make sure she’s all right?”

Severus considered him. “That may be the best course, as she did ask for space…”

Severus left Harry alone to write a letter that was even more difficult than the one he’d written while she’d been in Romania. He used an Erasing Spell four times before settling on: I just wanted to make sure you were all right; I didn’t believe any of the lies in the Prophet this morning. I’m beginning practices with the Cannons this morning—I will be practicing with them all summer. I’m not sure if it means much, but at least it gives me something to do. He added I miss you, after that. He debated over the farewell and couldn’t stand not to sign it love, Harry, so he did.

Feeling even worse than he had when he first read the article, Harry took a detour with his father to the Owlery before they went to the Cannons’ pitch.

“Once we go to the cottage, we can begin Apparating lessons, if you wish,” Severus said as Harry straightened his shirt. “You will be able to apply for your license at the end of next month.”

“Sure,” Harry answered without much enthusiasm.

“Harry!”

Oliver was waving from high above the pitch. Harry waved back and the rest of the team called out greetings. Styles, the team’s captain, swooped down and hopped off his broom; August was right behind him.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Styles said with a grin. “Hello again, Professor Snape.”

After greeting both Styles and August, Severus said to Harry, “I will return for you at one o’clock.”

“I can bring him back to Hogwarts, sir,” August offered. “I wanted to visit the book shop in Hogsmeade.”

Harry shrugged at his father’s questioning look, and Severus nodded. “I will see you this afternoon then. Enjoy yourself,” he said pointedly before Disapparating.

“Bit intense, isn’t he?” Styles said.

Despite himself, Harry smiled. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Harry’s girlfriend broke it off,” August explained.

“I saw it in the paper this morning… bad luck, mate,” Styles said with a sympathetic clap to Harry’s back. He gripped Harry’s shoulder, twisted him to the side a little bit and pointed into the stands, where two women were watching. “That’s my wife there, the brunette. And her sister. Lovely, isn’t she? She’s a few years older than you, but if you’re interested…”

“Er…”

“Leave him alone, Styles,” August said, thumping the captain’s chest. “Snape will tear you to pieces if you start setting him up with twenty year olds.”

“True; didn’t think about that,” Styles mused as he shrugged. “Well, keep your chin up, Harry. Loads of fish in the sea and all that rot.” He made a face and bellowed into the sky, “Wood, get your head out of your arse! That Bludger nearly knocked your block off!”

“Come on, Harry,” August said with a grin for Harry’s wince. “Some hard exercise will take your mind off Ginny.”

But even four hours later, when Harry was sweaty and panting with exertion from the drills Styles put them through, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ginny. Mostly about how people would be offering to set her up on dates with random blokes…

“Best not to think about it,” Oliver advised, handing Harry some water as they sat in varying positions of rest along the bottom row of bleachers. “You’ll only drive yourself mad trying to figure out who she was snogging.”

Harry swallowed his water too quickly; he coughed a few times before he could speak. “She didn’t snog anyone,” he finally managed. “That whole article was a lie.”

Oliver’s brows furrowed. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the Prophet has written lies about you,” he said, surprising Harry.

“You can’t really be certain though, can you?” William Harding, the soon to be retired Seeker, asked doubtfully.

“I’m certain,” Harry said firmly. “Ginny wouldn’t do that.”

Harding pursed his lips but only nodded before he pushed himself to his feet. “Loo,” he said to the air in general and went into the changing room.

“His boyfriend left him a year ago for another bloke… never suspected a thing,” Oliver said in a low, sympathetic voice.

“Oh,” Harry murmured quietly.

“He’s a bit sensitive about it, that’s all,” August added. “I’m sure you’re right about Ginny.” He leaned in to say something but a series of ear-splitting pops drowned him out; everyone looked up, their mouths falling open in surprise.

There was a swarm of reporters, all of them converging on Harry; the flash of a camera blinded him.

“Harry!”

“Can we get a statement about Ginny?”

“Are you joining the Cannons?”

“Have you found a new love yet?”

The questions bounced all around the gathered team, and Harry pressed himself back against the bleachers as they leaned in.

“Hey!” Styles finally shouted; he and the two Beaters pushed themselves right into the aggressive reporters’ faces; in front of Harry. “This is not a public pitch! You’ve no right to be here!”

“Harry is a public figure,” one of the reporters retorted. “We have every right to get a statement from him.”

“I’ve nothing to say,” Harry said quickly, but the reporters paid no attention.

“Can you tell us anything, Harry?” one of them asked. “Did you know about Miss Weasley’s suitors?”

“How many has she had?” called another.

“She hasn’t had any,” Harry said through his teeth.

“So you didn’t know then?”

“There was nothing to know,” Harry insisted.

“The little tart was seen in Diagon Alley, just this morning, kissing another fellow,” the first reporter said.

“Don’t call her that!” Harry snarled. “And you’re lying!”

The reporter smiled. “Am I?” he asked innocently. He reached into the inside pocket of his robes. “Is this picture lying as well?”

Harry gaped at the photograph as a camera captured his shock.

Not Ginny. Not Ginny. Not Ginny, his brain repeated.

It didn’t matter that she had fiery red hair, as long as Ginny’s. Or that a tall bloke had his arms around her back, their lips locked together… her palms against the boy’s chest. “That’s not Ginny…” he breathed.

It couldn’t be…

The reporter continued smiling as he jotted on his pad, saying aloud as he wrote, “Hero in denial…”

“I’m not in denial!”

“So you’re confirming the reports that Ginny had a bit on the side?” the reporter asked eagerly.

“Do you know the names of any of her suitors?” another demanded, with her quill poised over her notepad.

“How many were there?”

“There weren’t any!”

“Denial,” the first reporter said firmly, and the other reporters nodded along; their quills were writing furiously.

“Stop that!”

August had grabbed Harry’s arm and he tried to wrench it free, but August held him fast.

“It’ll just make a better story if you hit him,” August said into Harry’s ear. Harry gnashed his teeth and stopped struggling.

“All right!” a deep voice called out from behind them; Harry and August turned. “Maxwell Short, Magical Law Enforcement,” a burly man barked out, while his tall companion waved a wand toward the throng of reporters, who were writing even more furiously now. “This is a private pitch,” the burly man said. “All of you move along now or you will be escorted out.”

“Harry Potter strong-arms truth seekers,” one of the reporters muttered.

“You aren’t looking for the truth,” Harry snapped, but the reporter only smiled and continued with his writing even as the two M.L.E. officers shepherded him and his fellows off the pitch.

Harry stared after them, his jaw beginning to throb in time with his heartbeat and he wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he threw out a Furnunculus or two.

“Nasty lot,” Styles grumbled as he came up beside Harry and August.

Harry took a calming breath and said to the captain, “Sorry about that.” Lovely way to end his first practice with the Cannons…

“Not your fault, mate.” Styles shook his head, his eyes following the reporters’ retreating back as well. “How do you put up with it?”

“Not much choice, looks like,” August said quietly. “Photographs can be altered.” he added, his hand giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze; Harry sighed. He knew that well enough, after that image of Voldemort had been altered last year.

“Excellent work!”

The trio turned at Oliver’s loud congratulations; his arm was slung over Harding’s.

“Harding here called the M.L.E.,” he explained.

“Always a step ahead of us.” Styles gave the Seeker an enthusiastic clap on the back.

Harry smiled at Harding. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. Harding shrugged; his face was relaxed as he returned the smile.

--

Harry and August Apparated to Hogwarts’ gates after they’d showered and changed. Harry groaned as he tried to steady his protesting stomach, using one of the iron slats to support himself.

“I told you to stand close,” August reminded him, peering in with eyebrows puckered in worry. “Going to sick up?”

“No…” And Harry forced himself not to. Not hugging August around the middle while Apparating had seemed like the best course a few moments ago…

“You’ve Apparated before, haven’t you?”

Harry straightened up; it sounded like August was two seconds away from running to the castle to fetch his father. “I’m all right,” Harry assured him. “Magical travel doesn’t agree with me…”

“Except a broomstick?” August asked with a smirk.

“Just Floos and Apparition,” Harry said with an answering grin. “And Portkeys, come to think of it…”

August made a face. “I hate Portkeys. You’ll be all right once you learn to Apparate by yourself, I imagine. It’s different when you’re controlling it.”

“Hope so…” Harry hefted his rucksack over his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

“Absolutely.” August gestured down the long road behind them. “I want to look in the bookstore; any interest?”

Harry glanced at Hogwarts’ main gate; August’s gaze followed.

“We can go in and tell your father.” He smiled wryly. “We’d better, eh?”

Harry hesitated, unsure if it was safe to tell August about the connection he shared with his father. But since Severus had obviously trusted his former student to deliver Harry safely back to Hogwarts…

“If you’d rather not…”

Harry shook his head. “It isn’t that. It’s a rather complicated story, but my dad and I established a mental connection last year-”

“A link between your minds?” August’s eyebrows had swept up with interest. “I’ve read about it, of course… but that sort of connection usually only happens when two people bond, doesn’t it?”

“I think so; at least as my dad and Dumbledore explained it. It was a precaution when Voldemort was still alive.” Harry shrugged. “But I can speak to him through the connection…”

“Truly?”

Harry smiled at the awed tone; at least he hadn’t scoffed or run away screaming. And while August watched, fascinated, Harry focused on his wisp.

Dad?

His father’s response was immediate. Yes?

Owen invited me to go to Hogsmeade for lunch. May I?

Have you any money?

That gave Harry pause. He hadn’t thought to bring his coin purse, which was stuffed full of almost all the money his dad had been giving him as a weekly allowance; he’d used only a few galleons during the last two Hogsmeade weekends of the year.

I retain an account at The Three Broomsticks, Severus’ flame added before Harry could reply in the negative. Enjoy yourself.

Thanks. Harry hoped his dad could feel his smile. The flame warmed around him briefly and Harry knew he had.

“That was… odd,” August said when Harry let his wisp settle in again and they were walking toward Hogsmeade. “Your eyes sort of glazed over…”

“Did they?”

“A bit…”

“What are you looking for at the bookstore?” Harry asked as they came to the little shop.

“A book for your friend Hermione, actually,” August said as he led the way inside; Harry’s step faltered. “I told her about one of my favorite authors—a fellow named Broker. She had never heard of him, which seemed to fluster her quite a bit…”

August’s voice faded away as he went behind one of the stacks of books near the back; his head popped out a moment later. “Harry?”

Harry came toward him at a slower pace, two very distinct emotions warring in his chest; he hadn’t decided how loyal he wanted to be to Ron by the time he reached the teetering stack of novels.

“She’ll love the book, don’t worry,” August said as he stretched up to snatch one with a red binding at the top.

“Hermione loves all books…”

August grinned. “I sort of got that impression.” He flipped through the gold-edged pages before asking, “Do you mind if we stop at the post office?”

Harry shook his head and said nothing as he waited while August sorted out galleons.

“Thank you,” August said to the clerk who seemed much more interested in smiling at Harry than in counting out August’s change.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she said shyly; her fingers were still curled around August’s knuts.

“Snape,” August corrected before Harry could; he held his hand out pointedly for the coins, and she dropped them into his palm without a glance.

“Are you going to be here all summer?” the clerk asked, and Harry could see a copy of the morning’s Prophet on the counter behind her—it looked well-read.

“No,” he said, more aggressively than he meant to and the girl’s eyes widened. Harry flushed; he ducked his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. August tugged on his arm, his coins still in his fist, and he and Harry left the shop without another word.

“You all right?”

“Yeah… bit sensitive about it,” he said, echoing August’s earlier words about the Cannon's Seeker. August smiled a little and steered them toward the post office. “Owen,” Harry said tentatively before he could go inside. Harry bit his lip as he tried to figure out how not to offend. “Ron’s my friend…”

August glanced down at the book in his hand. “Ah... Hermione’s going to date someone else eventually, you realize…” He sighed and held out the book. “Would you give it to her, then? You can just say I mentioned it if you’d like; just so she has it…”

Harry took the book, guilt making his chest tight. “It isn’t that I don’t think you and she wouldn’t get on…”

“But if I date her, it will make things between you and Ron rather uncomfortable,” August said with a quick nod; he smiled a little. “Especially as Oliver and I do intend to keep encouraging you to join the team.”

“It’s another-”

“-whole year, yeah,” August finished for him. “You keep saying that, you know. So just because I’m a nosy bastard, is that Professor’s Snape’s qualm… or your own?”

“We’ve never discussed it; not seriously.”

“Would you be interested?” August pressed. “Reserve Seeker for the season—learn the ropes from Martin. You could practice as your schedule allows; school would still be your top priority.”

Harry didn’t have an answer, but mostly, he realized as they went into The Three Broomsticks, because he didn’t know what his father would think of the idea.

--

Severus was coming down the castle’s front steps as Harry walked up the path from the front gate; he waved and Severus waited for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked as soon as he made it to his dad.

“To the Forbidden Forest, to collect a few sprigs of mistletoe. I need them for a brew I am experimenting with.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Certainly,” Severus said with a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked as they turned toward Hagrid’s cabin.

“Yeah, I did,” Harry told him, a bit surprised at just how much he had enjoyed the impromptu visit to Hogsmeade.

“You purchased a book?” Severus asked, gesturing to the one August had given him. “Did you use my account at Nodding’s?”

“I didn’t know you had one at the book shop… Owen bought it for Hermione… He fancies her.” Harry frowned. “And I’m not certain why, but I sort of implied that I didn’t want him to see her, so he gave me the book to deliver.”

“You are unfailingly loyal to your friends… even if they do not deserve it.”

Harry sighed; he wasn’t particularly angry at Ron any longer, though he didn’t think he’d be especially happy to see him either.

“I have accounts with most of the establishments in Hogsmeade, should you need to purchase something, except Madame Puddifoot’s and Zonko’s… I do have one at the Hog’s Head, though I would generally prefer you avoid that particular establishment.”

“It’s not really my favorite place,” Harry said, unconcerned by the mild edict.

“Mm,” Severus murmured thoughtfully. And then, “How did you fair at practice?”

Harry made a face which had his father raising an eyebrow.

“Some reporters came to the pitch,” Harry explained.

Severus immediately halted. “What?” he demanded darkly.

Harry summarized their visit; by the time he finished, his father’s eyes were snapping with ire. And Harry wasn’t entirely sure at whom that anger was directed.

“The photo must have been manipulated,” Severus agreed with a scowl and Harry relaxed, but the relief didn’t last long. “I will take care of it.”

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, eyeing his father as they began walking once more.

“Nothing terribly illegal,” Severus answered with a sideways glance. He smiled slightly when Harry opened his mouth to protest. “My presence at the pitch should deter them.”

“You don’t need to do that-”

“I will not feel comfortable if you are so exposed,” Severus interrupted.

Harry noted the firm set of his father’s jaw and nodded silently.

They’d reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest; Severus beckoned him forward.

“We do not need to go far.”

Harry kept pace with his father, crouching down beside him when Severus knelt beside a bush. “Do you see this?” Severus asked, his voice loud in the hush of the dim forest. “Other than in this forest, mistletoe only bears fruit in the winter. The berry’s juice is quite sticky when the fruit is mashed.” He plucked a small sprig and gave it to Harry. “I am experimenting with adding the pulp to a basic healing salve, to enhance its adhesive qualities.”

Harry squeezed the berry between his thumb and first finger; its cloudy, viscous juice coated his fingers.

“It’s used in Sticking Solution, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and in the creation of Spell-o Tape.”

Harry wiped the juice in the damp grass around his feet and handed the sprig back to his father. Severus took a container out of one of his pockets and placed the plant carefully inside and then he showed Harry how to pluck the sprigs, with a gentle twist to the left.

“How many do you need?” Harry asked after he’d set the sixth one in the container.

“Two more should suffice,” Severus murmured as he examined leaves and berries with gentle fingers. As soon as the last specimen was deposited in the pile, Severus closed the lid and turned his attention to Harry.

“There is something on your mind,” he said, his dark eyes holding Harry’s steadily; Harry blinked. “Would you care to illuminate me?”

Harry pursed his lips for a moment and finally sighed. “I was thinking about something Owen asked me while were in Hogsmeade…” He hadn’t realized, however, that he’d been dwelling on it. Severus raised both eyebrows, inviting Harry to continue.

“The team wants me to sign on as Reserve Seeker next season…”

Severus’ brows furrowed. “And you wish to?”

“I never considered it as a possibility,” Harry said with a shrug.

“You will still be in school.”

“I know… but Owen said I could attend practices as I’m able; it wouldn’t interfere much.”

“You do wish to then?” Severus inferred, his eyes studying Harry’s face. “At least you wish to entertain the idea.”

Before Harry could answer, Severus went on, “You would be unable to continue playing on the Gryffindor team; your practices generally take up a great deal of your time, and you would have considerably less opportunities for leisure activities.”

“Yeah…”

Severus frowned. “Your interest is based on your current difficulty with Ginny?” When Harry swallowed and averted his gaze, Severus said quietly, “Perhaps a decision should wait until the season draws closer.”

Harry sighed, his fingers playing with one of the spiky mistletoe leaves. “I know that photo must have been tampered with… and I couldn’t even see Ginny’s face…” Harry pulled in a slow, unsteady breath. “How did you feel when Mum told you she kissed James?”

“Dead,” Severus answered in a low voice; Harry swallowed as he nodded. There was no other way to describe the feeling.

“Would you still have been her friend if she had chosen James?” he asked softly.

“For as long as she would have allowed it.”

Harry blinked several times, forcing the lump far past his Adam’s apple. Ginny’s dark brown eyes were in the forefront of Harry’s thoughts as he asked, “Would you object though, if I did want to play with the Cannons this season?”

Severus stood, and offering Harry a hand, pulled him up. “I do not know,” he answered; he settled a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “If it was not the best course, I would. And at the moment, I am inclined to think your last year at Hogwarts should be as carefree as possible.”

Harry didn’t say anything and was surprised when his father pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“You are still a child, though I do understand that the concept is difficult for you to fully appreciate.”

“I’m nearly seventeen…” Harry mumbled into his father’s shoulder.

“As I said,” Severus intoned dryly, “still a child.”

Harry smiled as his father dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

“Come along,” Severus said with a squeeze for Harry’s shoulder. “You can assist me with my experimentations.”

“Did Levi miss me?” Harry asked as they walked back toward the castle. “Or was he still irritated?”

“I have no idea; I do not speak dragon,” Severus said with a smirk.

“You’re a stitch, Dad…”

1997

“Another slice of melon?” Harry asked lazily, dangling a piece of the green fruit in front of Levi’s snout. The kylaria took it between his teeth and resettled himself on Harry’s stomach. A drop of juice splotched Harry’s shirt as Levi crunched.

“Lucky for you I have nowhere to go,” Harry said with a playful scowl. Levi swallowed his snack and nuzzled Harry’s breastbone. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven.” His fingers trailed along the spiny neck and Levi began to purr.

“Don’t tell my dad,” he said with a half-smile, “but I think I could get used to this; he thinks I’m going spare here with nothing to do but brood about Ginny.”

“I miss her loads, yeah,” Harry said with a sigh. “I didn’t think I could miss her as much as I do-” Harry swallowed, shrugging as Levi’s gentle eyes blinked. “I don’t know when I’ll see her. We’ve been sending letters but she never really says much. Neither do I, I suppose.”

Levi’s golden eyes were soothing and his soft purring was making Harry feel rather drowsy. The door opened then though and Severus stepped in from the corridor. He paused when he found Harry in the same place he’d left him three hours ago.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, eyeing the striped pajamas that Harry had slept in.

“No,” Harry said with a shrug.

Severus hung his robes on his peg. “Would you like to take lunch in Diagon Alley with Daniel? I think it is time you dressed for the day,” he said.

“Not really hungry,” Harry said as he selected another juicy melon slice from the plate beside his head and offered it to Levi.

“Would you like me to rephrase that?”

Harry looked up at his father, who was currently upside down, but that didn’t make his eyebrow look any less impressive. Harry sighed and nudged Levi off his chest. “All right,” he mumbled.

Levi took refuge in his cave and Harry trudged off to his bedroom, thinking his father might at least have had some sympathy for his pathetic Ginny-less plight.

He was still sulking by the time he came back into the sitting room, and he wasn’t inclined to pretend otherwise. Severus watched in amusement as he cinched his trainers with his lips pursed in a sullen frown.

“What’s so funny?” Harry groused as he straightened up.

“You remind me of your mother when you scowl like that.”

“Oh.” Harry gave up quickly and smiled at his father. “You do that on purpose, don’t you?” he said with a shake of his head as he preceded Severus out into the corridor.

“Quite possibly.”

“Where are we having lunch?” Harry asked, after sending his father another scowl; this one without heat. His father shook his head, amusement still clear in his dark eyes.

“There are several dining establishments in Diagon Alley. Whichever suits you will do,” he said.

“I’ve never eaten there… well, except The Leaky Cauldron and Fortescue’s.”

Severus quickly amended, “Other than both of those, whichever suits.”

Harry chuckled. “You don’t like either of those, Dad? Have to say, I would have thought Fortescue’s would be a particular favorite of yours.”

“Would you?” Severus returned dryly. “Given all the times you have seen me indulging in ice cream sundaes?”

“We could share one,” Harry suggested with a grin. “One of those massive ones that even the Weasleys can’t finish in one go.” His grin quickly faded as soon as he realized what he’d said. His throat felt dry as Severus smoothed the hair near the back of his neck.

“There is a small café near the apothecary,” Severus said. “Perhaps you would like to dine there?”

“Sure.”

Severus’ fingers squeezed the back of Harry’s neck lightly and Harry gave him a faint smile. They continued out of the main doors and found Remus just coming up the steps.

“Just seeing Tonks and the baby off,” he said by way of greeting. “They went to spend the afternoon with Andromeda.”

“We are on our way to Diagon Alley for lunch,” Severus said and Harry could feel his father’s eyes on him, even though he was staring out past the main gates. “Would you care to join us?”

Harry smiled a little, despite the burgeoning ache in his chest and turned to see Remus smiling as well.

“I haven’t left the castle since the end of term,” he said as they walked down the path together. “I think I almost forgot what the sun felt like.”

“You can bring Sirius outside, you know,” Harry said with another smile for his friend. “Babies like sunshine, or so I’ve heard.”

“I think age has made him a bit cheeky,” Remus said to Severus.

“He is nearly seventeen, as he reminds me on a regular basis.”

“And nearly ready to try for my Apparating License,” Harry pointed out.

“How are you faring in your practice sessions?” Remus asked as they passed through the gates.

“I haven’t splinched myself yet,” Harry told him, rather proud of the fact.

“You have an excellent teacher then,” Remus said. He glanced at Severus, his lips twitching. “Severus, if I remember correctly, splinched several minor body parts during lessons at Hogwarts.”

“Minor parts?” Harry echoed.

“An eyebrow and a few toenails … We were in the same group.” Remus explained, chuckling at Severus’ narrow-eyed glare. “Didn’t you lose half your pinkie as well?”

Severus made a dignified sort of harrumphing sound as he pulled Harry in close. “I do not recall,” he replied. And before either Remus or Harry could press for further details, he turned on the spot.

He and Harry reappeared a moment before Remus, all three of them materializing in front of Gringotts. They found not only Daniel waiting for them in the small café, but Margaret as well.

“I needed Kelpinea seeds,” she explained after the three men had greeted her. “Daniel invited me to come along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Severus said, dipping his head. Margaret smiled and accepted the chair that he offered her. “Bone restorative?” he guessed as he sat across from her.

Margaret nodded. “Daniel is assisting with an improved recipe. It’s taken much longer than we had anticipated.”

“Kelpinea seeds are notoriously unstable,” Severus said, his brow furrowing in thought. “I have used them with some degree of success in a skin re-growth potion that Poppy stocks in her infirmary. I treat them with stink sap before they boil.”

“Do you?” Margaret leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. “The head of my department would be most interested in that technique.”

“Perhaps if you have time after lunch, Severus,” Daniel interjected, “you and Margaret might come back to my shop and show her the technique. And I myself would like to see it as well.”

“Certainly,” Severus said, taking no time to think about it, and Harry had the distinct impression that there wasn’t much his father would refuse his old mentor. Harry just hoped that no one would mind if he used the Floo to go back home.

Harry didn’t say much during lunch, though both his father and Remus pulled him into the conversation each time he grew quiet, asking him questions about his Quidditch practices or sharing anecdotes about the past school year. He answered politely and smiled where it was appropriate but all he wanted to do was climb back into his pajamas and curl up with Levi—this time in bed with a blanket pulled over his head.

After the bill was paid, Harry lagged behind the rest of the party, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “Do you mind if I take the Floo back home?” he asked his father quietly once they’d stepped out into the sunlight.

Severus frowned, turning a little so that Harry had to turn with him; away from the rest of the group. “I would rather you did not spend the remainder of the afternoon alone in our quarters,” he said in a voice low and filled with concern. “I will make arrangements to demonstrate the technique to Healer Blunt at another time.”

“I can stay and walk around a bit.”

Severus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes flicking up and down the busy street.

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Harry said, hoping he didn’t sound as irritated as he felt. It wasn’t his father’s fault, after all, that he was the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.

“I have no doubt that you are mature enough to be on your own,” Severus said quietly. “It is the potential threat of stray Death Eaters that concerns me.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll be able to Apparate on my own in less than a month.”

Severus quirked one of his dark eyebrows, looking only slightly amused. “Are you planning to use that privilege to go off on your own without permission?”

Memories of Apparating away with Sirius last December rose unbidden to Harry’s mind, even though his dad hadn’t meant it that way. He looked away, staring down the street as he shook his head. Severus didn’t speak right away.

“If you will allow me to place anti-Portkey and Apparition jinxes over you, I will not object,” he finally said. Harry nodded, not secure enough about the state of his voice to say anything. Severus applied the spells with swift precision.

“Thanks,” Harry said, grateful that he words were even when they emerged.

“I will meet you here in two hours,” Severus said. He placed both hands on Harry’s shoulders, his gaze holding Harry’s. “Ginny will come when she is ready.”

Harry nodded silently as heat crawled up his throat. “I know.”

His father squeezed his shoulders. “If you are not here in precisely two hours, it is very likely that I will alert the Aurors,” he said without a hint of jest.

“I’ll be here,” Harry promised.

“Contact me at any sign of trouble.”

“I will,” Harry said obediently, beginning to smile now in spite of his father’s solemn features.

“Avoid secluded places.”

“I will, Dad.”

Severus shook his head as Harry smiled. “Two hours,” he said firmly.

“Two hours,” Harry agreed.

Severus finally released the ever-tightening grip on his shoulders and stepped back.

Harry said his farewells to the other three adults and then gave his father an encouraging smile. “Have fun,” he said, to which Severus pursed his lips. Harry waved to the mismatched quartet and went down the street. His father was still watching him as he stepped into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

--

By the time Harry left the shop, he was wondering why he’d been so eager to be off on his own. Looking at the newest broom model, he realized, wasn’t nearly as much fun without Ron.

And there was nobody to create a diversion when the shopkeeper had suggested that Harry might wish to become the new spokesperson for his originally-designed Quidditch gloves. He’d finally had to mumble something about getting his father’s permission before slipping out the door.

He wandered aimlessly along the cobbled street, startled to find himself in front of the twins’ shop eventually. A place where he had always been welcome.

He could see George through the glass pane, demonstrating how to use a model of a fire-breathing dragon to a captivated boy. Fred was just coming out of the back room. Harry drew a quick breath through his nose as he saw who followed behind him.

Ginny.

Her arms full of boxes; her ginger hair falling over her face and shoulders as she tried to balance the precarious stack. Fred took it from her with a wave of his wand and paraded the boxes to a shelf off to the side, saying something over his shoulder to his little sister. She smiled—the expression wooden—as she nodded.

As soon as Fred was out of sight, the smile disappeared. She went back into the supply room, her beautiful face clouded with sadness. Harry swallowed through the lump in his throat and pressed himself back against the bricks and away from the large window. It should be so easy. He could just open the door and go inside. Tell Ginny that he didn’t care if she had snogged every wizard in Britain—he couldn’t stand another minute like this.

The door swung open before he could force himself to grip its handle and Harry found himself face to face with Fred.

“I thought I saw you standing out here,” he said.

Harry was a little surprised at the lack of animosity in Fred’s voice and it took him a moment to respond. “I was just walking by.”

Fred gazed at him for a moment. “You didn’t come to speak with Ginny?”

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

Fred’s eyebrows swept upward.

Battling a surge of irritation, Harry asked, “How would I?”

Something flickered in Fred’s blue eyes but then he shook his head. “Listen Harry, things are really tense around the Burrow. Ginny doesn’t smile anymore; she rarely even speaks to anyone and mum is beside herself with worry. And all of us feel awful about what happened; Ron especially.” Fred paused, his face pained. “I don’t think our house has ever been so quiet.”

It hurt to hear that and yet Harry had no idea why Fred was telling him.

Fred sighed. “I’m trying to apologize, Harry. George as well. And Ron would if he could see you-”

“Nothing’s stopping him,” Harry interrupted, brusque without meaning to be. And no matter how much he wanted things to go back to the way they had been before, he wasn’t just going to pretend that the entire Weasley family hadn’t tossed him away without a thought.

“Ginny’s miserable,” Fred said quietly. “None of us can stand to see her like this, Harry.”

“You think I wanted this?” Harry demanded hoarsely. “None of this was my idea, if you remember. It was your mum’s and probably all of you, with your threats that I’d better not hurt her.” Harry’s voice had risen a little but he went on anyway, “But it’s all of you who’ve hurt her, not me. And I won’t hurt her; not ever. She asked me to wait and so I’m waiting. And I’d appreciate it if you and your family would leave me the hell alone!”

He didn’t wait for a response from Fred. He pivoted away and fled down the street, not caring that half a dozen people were gawking at them. All of this would probably be in the morning papers. But Harry didn’t care.

He told himself that over and over as he veered away from the steps of Gringotts and found Diagon Alley’s Floo Center instead. He dropped a galleon into the waiting attendant’s palm and stepped into the nearest empty Fireplace without waiting for his change.

“Harry Snape’s home,” he croaked out as he threw down the powder. With a flash of green fire, Harry was spun away and spit out into his own sitting room a moment later.

Coughing and spluttering, he ignored Levi’s mad roaring from above. “I’m all right,” he finally managed to say when the soot was no longer clogging his throat. Levi perched on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck as Harry tried to wipe off the year’s worth of dust from his face.

Giving up, he reached out with his wisp for his father’s flame.

Are you all right?

Yes, Harry answered quickly and his father’s panic subsided. I used the Transport Center to come home. Nothing happened, he added as the flames flickered anew. I just wanted to come home.

Are you certain you are all right?

Yeah.

His father’s flames were uncertain, and Harry could sense the effort it took him not to insist that he explain what was wrong. He imagined he could feel the sigh through their connection.

I will be home within the hour.

Harry slumped into the nearest chair as soon as he was again alone with his thoughts. He stroked Levi’s cold scales absently and decided he was really angry. Angry at Ron for being such a berk—in a thousand different ways, angry at all of the Weasleys for not being the family he had thought they were, and angry at Hermione for pushing Ron away in the first place.

But more than any of them, he was angry with Ginny. He’d been angry with her for weeks now, he finally realized. He just hadn’t allowed himself to admit it. If she was so miserable, why wouldn’t she just tell him she wanted everything to be as it had been?

Didn’t she know he’d take her back in a heartbeat?

And why hadn’t he just gone inside the twins’ stupid shop and told Ginny how much he loved her? He should have. He should have wrapped her in his arms and kissed her until she forgot why she was so afraid.

Furious at himself now as well, Harry went out the pitch, where he flew faster and harder than he ever had before—so fast that Levi had difficulty keeping up with him. He spun his broomstick in ways that were much too wild but he didn’t care. Not even when he nearly fell off half a dozen times. And when Harry’s legs began to protest the punishment, he came to a skidding, wobbling halt against the ground, panting and dripping with sweat. Levi collapsed on his shoulder, winded.

“I believe I have asked you more than once to leave a note when you leave our quarters.”

Harry’s head jerked up. His father was sitting on one of the benches where the teams usually sat during the captain’s speech and he looked extremely displeased.

Before Harry could mumble an apology, Severus asked, “What happened that you felt the need to fly so recklessly?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Do not insult my intelligence, or my eyesight,” Severus interrupted in a steely voice. “You were careening around up there like a man with a death wish.”

Harry had to look away from the dark gaze. “I saw Fred,” he said quietly. “Talked to him.”

“What did he say?” Severus demanded, his voice darkening with renewed anger.

Harry shook his head; he couldn’t answer that. It didn’t matter what Fred had said. All that mattered was that he was even angrier with Ginny than he had been before he started flying.

“Whatever he said distressed you enough that you disregarded your own safety,” his father said, the worry dominating his voice now.

Harry smiled wryly even though he was still staring at Hogwarts’ in the distance. “I think we both know I don’t need to be distressed to do that.”

“I do not care for your flippancy.”

Harry pulled his eyes from the towering castle, grimacing when he saw the scowl on his father’s face. “Sorry.” He shifted restlessly as Severus continued to gaze at him. “I just miss Ginny,” he finally said. “And Fred said she was unhappy.”

“I do understand that this is a very difficult situation,” Severus said, the sharp planes of his face softening. “And I realize that hearing about Ginny’s unhappiness is hurtful, but screaming around the pitch with such abandon will not solve anything—as you well know.”

“Nothing will solve anything,” Harry muttered, sinking down beside his father. “If Ginny is so miserable-” He shook his head. He didn’t want to rehash this. “Flying felt good,” he admitted into the silence as he unconsciously imitated the way Severus was holding himself; palms flat against his legs. He slid his eyes toward his father when there was no response.

“I should have gone into the twins’ shop,” he went on, and wondered briefly when he had decided to tell his dad the particulars. “I think Fred wanted me to.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose. “Did he?”

“He apologized. Tried to apologize for Ron as well.”

“I take it you did not accept?”

“I’m not accepting an apology on Ron’s behalf,” Harry said, kicking at the grass with his toe; Levi’s wings fluttered against his shoulder. “If he wants to apologize for being a giant tosspot, he’s going to have to do it himself.”

“And Ginny?” Severus asked. “Are you waiting for Ginny to apologize as well?”

Harry looked up sharply. “Of course not.”

“No? You are not angry with her?” Severus returned, his voice too even.

Harry wanted to accuse his father of being infuriating but he simply sighed again. “It’s stupid to be so angry. She can’t help the way she feels.” He frowned. “And I would never ask her to apologize for it.”

“Then why did you not speak with her?”

“She asked me to wait,” Harry reminded his father. “And you told me I should as well,” he pointed out, indignant.

Severus ignored Harry’s accusation as he asked seriously, “You fear her rejection?”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”Harry asked bitterly.

“It is possible that Ginny will reject you,” Severus agreed and Harry made a face.

“Thanks loads for the encouragement.”

Severus studied Harry’s face, not looking chagrined in the least for his blunt assessment. “It is also possible,” he said quietly, “that she is just as fearful of being rejected as you are.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “That just leaves us in the same place we’re in now. Ginny asked me to give her space.” He huffed in frustration. “How am I supposed to know if she’s had enough?”

“That I cannot answer,” Severus said, his lips turning down a little.

“Only Ginny can, yeah,” Harry mumbled. They sat together, listening to Levi’s soft purring for several long minutes. When Harry finally pushed up to stand, his father’s fingers curled around his wrist.

Harry twisted his neck around, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Has your anger abated?” he asked. “After your flight?”

Unsure of what answer his father wanted, Harry settled on the truth; nodding. His brows furrowed as Severus’ hold became firmer around his wrist.

“And can you promise me that you will not resort to such therapy again?” he asked, his voice dropping; his black eyes were boring into Harry’s. Harry could only shake his head; it had been a long time since he’d lied to his father. He wasn’t keen to do it again, no matter what those dark eyes promised.

Severus nodded, the forbidding expression clearing from his features. “You may have your broom for practice, but otherwise I will keep it until this situation resolves itself.”

Harry swallowed hard. “But what if it doesn’t?” he asked thickly; not because he wanted his broom but because he didn’t think he could bear it otherwise.

“One of you is going to have to break this silence,” Severus said, his grip relenting to a more comforting one. “One of you will be brave enough.”

Brave.

Harry had plenty of bravery, or so he’d always been told. But what good was courage when you’re terrified that the girl you love doesn’t love you back?

--

Harry channeled his feelings into Severus-approved activities for the next several days, turning out some of the best moves he’d ever had during practice with the Cannons.

Remus showed up one afternoon as well, in running shorts and a tee shirt, making Harry stare at him for a full minute before he remembered to ask him in.

“Care for a jog over the grounds?” Remus asked, chuckling at Harry’s bafflement.

“A jog…” Harry narrowed his eyes. “Did my Dad put you up to this?”

“It was Tonks’ idea, actually,” Remus said, still smiling. “I think she’s rather sick of me being underfoot. And after we heard about your flying tricks yesterday evening, she decided you needed a way to burn off some of your restless energy. Your father was quite enthusiastic when I mentioned it this morning, however,” he added with a smirk.

“Jogging?” Harry couldn’t help but make a face. “I’m not really much of a runner, Remus. I’ve never seen you run either.”

“I used to jog quite regularly with your mother during our school years.”

Harry immediately smiled and then rolled his eyes. “You and my dad really need to stop bringing up Mum’s name every time you want to cajole me into doing something.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Harry smiled again. “Never mind. All right,” he agreed, “I’ll go with you, but I’m warning you, I’m only fast in the air.”

“I’ll match your pace,” Remus assured him. He clapped Harry’s shoulder and told him to find something more suitable than pajamas to wear.

Levi came with them, squawking excitedly as they covered the dips and peaks of Hogwarts’ rolling grounds. They didn’t talk and Harry found himself running faster; pounding the grass as he thought of Ginny. And how much he wanted to see her.

It became a ritual between them—Remus stopping by in the afternoon and Harry running as hard as he could until he felt like every last bit of anger and grief was purged.

He looked forward to those hours with eagerness; as much as he did the hours he spent in the lab with his father, both of them working in easy camaraderie even when what they were doing required silent concentration.

Three days after his first run with Remus, he and Severus stood over a simmering cauldron full of Bittertox Potion.

“I have three more salves to brew for Poppy,” Severus said as he stirred in a clockwise motion. “I should be finished in three days time.”

Harry grinned. “We can go to the Cottage then?” He didn’t know what it was exactly about the small dwelling, but he loved being there. “Schminge will be pleased,” he said happily when his father nodded.

“We should plan a few trips as well,” Severus said, looking a bit sour over the mention of the amiable house-elf.

“Where?” Harry demanded, pouncing on the idea; his father smiled.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Erm… I have no idea,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly at his father’s amused smirk. “Where have you never been?”

Severus thought it over. “The American continents, Australia, Asia and quite a large portion of Europe.”

“Well, that narrows it down…” Harry shook his head. “Where would you most like to go?”

It was Severus’ turn to be flummoxed and Harry laughed. “Maybe we can spell that globe in Binns’ classroom to choose for us.”

Severus nodded seriously. “Perhaps.”

The Floo erupted in the other room before Harry could tell his dad he’d only been joking, so he simply smiled and went into the sitting room to see who was calling.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”

Hermione smiled out through the green flames. “Professor Dumbledore asked the Ministry to connect my parent’s fireplace to the Floo Network; isn’t that lovely?”

“Brilliant,” Harry said with a grin. “Come through.”

“I know it’s a bit gauche to arrive in one’s Floo unannounced, but I haven’t received my Apparating license yet. Is Professor Snape here?” she asked as she brushed her sleeves.

“In the lab; we’ve been brewing.”

“Have you?” Hermione asked, a smile lighting her face. “May I see what you’re working on?”

Harry wasn’t certain how his dad would react to Hermione’s presence in the lab, but he waved her into the adjacent room anyway.

“Good afternoon, Hermione,” Severus greeted before Harry could even announce his friend.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” Hermione peered into Severus’ cauldron. “Bittertox Brew?” she guessed.

“In its final stage, yes.”

“May I help with anything?”

“I am finished for another two hours,” Severus answered and Hermione sighed. “Harry would probably enjoy your company however,” Severus said, glancing over at Harry.

“We can dice flobberworms another day,” Harry told Hermione, trying not to smile at the look of disappointment on her face. “Dad will save some for you next time,” he promised, giving his father a smile when Severus opened his mouth to protest. “Won’t you?”

“I can come back tomorrow,” Hermione said, her expression brightening. “I’ve been researching the various types of healing elixirs. I would appreciate your opinion on one of them, sir. A brew by a man named Ewing; he’s new to the field.”

Harry watched as interest lit his father’s dark eyes. “His theories tend toward the radical,” Severus said with a nod, “though they are generally sound.”

Harry drifted toward the sofa as Hermione responded; she and Severus spent the next ten minutes debating the Potioneer named Ewing. And only when both of them realized that Harry wasn’t in the room anymore did Hermione emerge, with Severus sending an apology through their connection, but Harry didn’t mind. He was glad to see Hermione so happy.

Hermione was grinning as she settled next to Harry on the sofa. “You must think I’m daft,” she laughed, though Harry had been trying not to let his amusement show. “But I’ve always wished I could discuss potions with Professor Snape.”

Harry smiled. “Well, he’s here all summer. Well, actually we’ll be at my parents’ Cottage, but you can come there as well as here.”

Hermione squeezed his hand and sighed. “It’s really lonely at home. My parents have been sorting their hours so they can spend more time with me. I think my mother was relieved though when I told her I would be able to visit you through the Floo. She and Dad have been worried about me, I think.”

“I’m glad you came,” Harry told her. “Which reminds me,” he added as she leaned against his shoulder. “Owen and I went to Hogsmeade after practice last week.”

“How are your practices?” she asked. “You’re enjoying them, aren’t you?”

“More than I thought I would, actually,” he said with a grin. “You should come watch. My dad has been coming since those reporters showed up. The two of you can discuss potions,” he teased. Hermione nodded eagerly though, not noticing Harry’s tone at all. Harry shook his head, still amused as he reached a hand out and summoned the book that Owen had bought for Hermione.

“Your dad’s been tutoring you!” Hermione said, delighted at the show of wandless magic.

Harry shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “It’s been rather fun to be able to do magic all summer.” He handed Hermione the book.

“Mistin Broker?” Hermione breathed, her voice full of excitement. “How did you know I wanted to read one of his books? I meant to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to find one!”

“Owen bought that for you, when we went to Hogsmeade. Said he’d mentioned the author to you.” Not sure why he felt the need to confess, Harry bit his lip and added, “He wanted to give it to you himself but I sort of discouraged him…”

Hermione’s brown eyes darted up to meet his. “Why?”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t think Ron would like it and it felt funny-”

“Harry, Ron and I aren’t dating any longer,” she broke in softly.

Shifting a bit, Harry said, “It’s hardly been two weeks since you broke it off though.”

“I don’t mean I want to start seeing Auggie-”

“Auggie?” Harry said, making a face. “Please don’t tell me you call him that?”

Hermione flushed. “It’s what he asked me to call him and-”

Harry waved his hand hastily, suddenly not wanting to hear another word about Owen. “Never mind, never mind… call him whatever you want.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, it isn’t like that at all. I enjoy his company and if I Ron and I hadn’t just-” She shook her head. “Well, it’s much too soon to date another boy.”

“Owen’s not exactly a boy,” Harry felt constrained to point out, even though he’d just promised himself he wasn’t going to have this conversation.

“I’m nearly eighteen, Harry,” Hermione said with a shrug. Harry didn’t think that had much to do with anything but he didn’t say anything else; the feeling of betraying Ron was much too strong. Not that he’d even spoken to Ron in ages. Hermione smiled and squeezed his fingers again.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asked.

“As long as we don’t have to go to the library,” Harry agreed with a smirk.

“You know, Harry, it wouldn’t kill you to spend some time in the library this summer,” Hermione retorted after nudging him with an elbow to his ribs. “You have access to the most extension collection of books in wizarding Britain.”

“I have access to it all year as well and I never go in then either.”

Hermione made a face and Harry offered her a hand up from the sofa with a chuckle.

“We’re going outside for a bit,” he called to his father as he held the door open for Hermione.

“If you leave the grounds,” Severus began his customary admonishment, but Harry was already nodding.

“I’ll tell you. Don’t worry; we aren’t going off to fight a Minotaur or anything.”

Looking decidedly unamused, Severus retorted, “I have your broom.”

Touche.

Harry smiled. “Good thing then or we just might have done it.” Unable to resist, he waggled his fingers at his surprised father and followed Hermione out into the corridor.

For the first time in weeks, the dungeon corridors no longer felt oppressive and since they were no longer discussing either Ron or August, Harry relaxed, listening with a smile to Hermione detailing the list of books she’d already read in the few short weeks of the summer hols.

“The author makes a case for the enslavement of house-elves, Harry,” she was saying indignantly as they crossed the lawn. “Can you imagine such a thing? He goes far beyond the usual-” Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste, “-asinine belief about house-elves enjoying their work. The author actually believes that our entire way of life would be destroyed without house-elves!”

“Ridiculous,” Harry agreed, making certain his voice and face were as serious as possible. Hermione nodded.

“One day, Harry,” she said, “it’s going to fall to our generation to fix this. There are so many injustices. Even more than in the non-magical world, I think.” She gripped Harry’s fingers as he reached out to steady her over a slippery rock on the path down to Hagrid’s hut.

“You’re probably right,” Harry said, thoughtful despite himself. “Why haven’t you taken an internship at the Ministry for the summer? I was offered… four, I think.”

Hermione slid her eyes toward him and smiled. “You’re Harry Potter,” she reminded him. “Every office in the Ministry wants you.”

“All the more reason for you to fight for change, then,” Harry said dryly. “They’d have to be stupid to choose me over you.” He thought he saw Hermione’s cheeks flush but she looked down too quickly for him to be certain.

“Hagrid’s outside,” she said a moment later when she looked up again. She waved and Hagrid returned the gesture, his broad face breaking out in a great grin. “Come on, Harry,” she said; she took his hand impatiently when the toe of his trainer hooked over a root and then practically dragged him over to where Hagrid and Fang were waiting.

1997

“When is Tonks coming home?” Harry asked, feeling a little frantic as he bounced his squalling godson.

Remus sighed as he checked the temperature of the feeding supplement in Sirius’ bottle. “She will be home Monday,” he said. He held out his arms for his son, but Harry shook his head and waggled his fingers for the bottle. His face clearing of some of its stress, Remus handed it over.

Harry shifted the baby just as Tonks had showed him yesterday evening while peppering Remus with last minute instructions. Remus sighed with relief as the soft sounds of suckling replaced the harsh crying.

“You’ve got a set of lungs,” Harry said, smiling as Sirius wrapped a small fist around his thumb.

“Takes after his mother,” Remus murmured. “He’s really quite taken with you, isn’t he?”

Harry glanced at Remus, grinning. “He’s my godson, after all.”

Remus smiled and handed Harry a small cloth. Harry settled into the soft chair by the fire. “I can’t believe it’s been almost two months since he was born,” Harry said. “Or that Tonks is already on an assignment. They didn’t waste any time, did they?”

“This one is only temporary, or so Kingsley insisted.” Remus shook his head. “Tonks was happy to take it though,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t think she’ll enjoy office duties.”

“Maybe she’ll decide to continue on with fieldwork instead."

Remus nodded, his eyes on his son. After a moment, he gave his attention back to Harry. “How was your practice this morning?”

Harry noticed the abrupt change in subject and decided he’d tell his dad that Remus could probably do with a chat some late evening after Sirius was down for the night. But for now, all he said was, “Grueling. If I do take on reserve Seeker, I’ll be scraping myself off the dungeon floor.”

Remus’ eyebrows went up. “Are you still thinking of doing that?”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t ruled it out.”

“I didn’t think your father was keen on the idea.”

“He isn’t,” Harry said. “And he probably would be even less enthused if he heard what I just said,” he added, his lips lifting in a wry smile.

“Probably,” Remus echoed, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re enjoying yourself, though?” he asked.

“Yeah. Especially since the reporters have stopped coming to the pitch every day. There’s always one there from the Prophet but he never says much; just sits and watches the game. He tried to speak with Hermione but she mentioned that she’s quite handy with a wand.” Harry grinned at the memory. “He didn’t bother her again.”

“I imagine not,” Remus said with a chuckle; he stood up then, holding his arms out for Sirius who had just finished the last few drops in his bottle and was fast asleep. Harry transferred him as gently as he could and Remus patted his back expertly. “Be back in a moment,” he murmured.

Harry rested his head against the back of the chair while he waited, thinking he’d better mention that Remus shouldn’t actually repeat that last bit about reserve Seeker. He wasn’t any more decided on the prospect than he had been a week ago, but he wasn’t going to rule it out. His dad on the other hand…

Remus returned a few minutes later, without Sirius. He called for Dobby, who spent more time telling them what a privilege it was to stay with Harry Potter’s godson than it had taken Remus to put the baby down in the first place.

Harry finally managed to assure the house-elf that he’d thanked them enough and he and Remus finally took to the hills, where they stayed for over an hour. And if Harry hadn’t slipped on a loose rock, they would have continued even longer. Harry almost thought Remus would have gone on without him if he hadn’t been concerned that Harry might need assistance.

“Are you certain you’re all right?” Remus asked as they walked slowly through the front entrance.

“Doesn’t hurt much any longer,” Harry said, with a shrug. He smiled when Remus turned to follow him into the dungeons. “Voldemort’s dead, remember? I don’t need an escort.”

Remus shook his head, a smile on his face as well. “Sure you can make it on your own?” he asked, looking amused and it took Harry a moment to realize he was referring to his ankle.

“Sirius won’t know what to do with such an old mother hen for a dad,” Harry teased.

“You’ll have something to bond over then,” Remus retorted and Harry chuckled.

“Thanks for the run,” he said before Remus turned away. Remus clapped his sweaty shoulder, murmuring his own gratitude before continuing on toward his quarters.

“What happened?” Severus demanded as soon as Harry stepped into the classroom a few minutes later. Harry stared at him in confusion, halting as his father came toward him. “Did you fall?”

“What? Oh.” Harry shrugged. “I twisted my ankle. I’m all right.”

“You’re limping,” Severus said, taking Harry’s bicep and maneuvering him toward a chair. Harry sighed and carefully took off his trainer and sock. “I do not feel any breaks,” Severus murmured as his fingers probed; he performed a diagnostic as well. “It does not seem serious, but I will ask Margaret to look at it in a moment,” he said as he straightened.

“Margaret’s here?”

“Yes,” Severus said with a quick nod. “Did you sustain any other injuries?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t know Margaret was visiting today.”

“Neither did I. We were going over some of her notes for the healing potions we discussed in Daniel’s shop. She was just about to leave.”

Margaret appeared from the potions store then. She frowned when she saw Severus kneeling in front of Harry on the floor. “Are you all right, Harry?”

“He twisted his ankle,” Severus answered before Harry could. “I can detect no broken bones.”

“May I?” Margaret asked, though she asked Harry instead of Severus. When he nodded, she came over, taking Severus’ place as he stood. She felt the ankle as Severus had and performed two diagnostics. “A Strengthening Potion should suffice,” she said. “It isn’t sprained.”

Severus nodded and went to fetch the potion. Harry made a face as he drank it. “Thanks,” he said anyway.

“You’re very welcome,” Margaret said as she smiled. “It will make you drowsy. If it's still bothering you this evening, take another dose. Your father can contact me in the morning if you still aren’t walking normally."

"All right," Harry agreed.

“Thank you,” Severus said as well.

“And thank you for the Basilisk scales,” Margaret said, holding up the flask of crushed scales.

“We have an ample supply,” Severus told her, glancing at Harry. Margaret’s smile that time made Harry wonder just how much his father had shared with the healer.

Harry rested his head on his folded arms while his father collected Margaret’s deep maroon traveling cloak from his office, though he started to rise once Severus handed it to her.

“Don’t get up, Harry,” Margaret said as she fastened the little clasp. “That potion is rather draining. And you should rest your ankle.”

“Thanks,” Harry said and put his head down again; a nap sounded like a capital idea. Margaret smiled at him and then at Severus as he held the door open for her. Harry listened to them exchanging farewells and something more about potions with half an ear, his brain beginning to feel muzzy.

He blinked a few times when he heard the door closing, yawning widely. His father’s footsteps came closer and Harry closed his eyes. “I like Margaret,” he murmured.

Long fingers brushed through his hair. “Do you?” Severus’ deep voice was full of amusement. “Perhaps we should return to our quarters.”

Harry mumbled something that even he wasn’t sure was an agreement or not. His father’s rumbling response sounded like a chuckle.

--

Severus looked up from the flasks he was carefully labeling when Harry groaned.

“Your tables are hard,” he grumbled when he raised his head.

“You have a habit of sleeping in the oddest places,” Severus replied and Harry smiled as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “And I did attempt to insist you move to your bedroom.

“You attempted?” Harry echoed with a smirk. “You’re getting soft.”

Severus snorted softly. “So it would seem. Next time I will I set you to scrubbing cauldrons in your sleep until you obey.”

Harry stretched, his easy smile not leaving his face. “What time is it?”

“Nearly five o’clock.”

“Already?”

“You have dinner plans with Hermione in an hour.”

“Yeah.” Harry was already standing. He flexed his ankle and Severus raised his eyebrows. “Feels all right.”

“Where are you taking Hermione?” Severus asked, putting his quill down and sending the newly-labeled flasks into the cupboard.

“Just The Three Broomsticks. She wants to be home early since the Cup match is tomorrow.”

Severus gestured for Harry to go ahead of him into the corridor. “She is aware that Draco is sitting with us?” he asked.

“She wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the prospect but she’s bored enough that even Draco seems like good company,” Harry explained; he smiled at the amused glint in his father’s eyes.

“You and Hermione have spent a significant amount of time together during the last week,” Severus commented as they wound their way downward.

“Not much else to do.”

“I’m surprised she has not pursued an internship at the Ministry,” Severus mused, allowing the melancholy statement to pass. Just as well, Harry thought. Dwelling on the fact that without Hermione he’d have only his dad and Remus for company was much too depressing.

“No one has asked her to,” Harry said; he was still irritated about that. He had meant it when he’d told Hermione that she was far more deserving of such an opportunity than he was.

Severus’ eyebrows rose and he stopped walking. “If Hermione is interested in a position, it is quite permissible for her to pursue one on her own.”

“It is?”

“Certainly,” Severus said with a quick nod. “My own apprenticeship with Daniel was only secured because I wrote to him after reading one of his pieces in a journal.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Well, why didn’t anyone tell Hermione that she could do that?”

“It is generally considered the duty of a student’s Head of House to ensure all students are aware of their opportunities,” Severus explained. “It is not too late, however. Albus could most certainly arrange something on her behalf.”

“He would, do you think?” Harry asked eagerly.

“I see no reason he would not,” Severus said. “Albus has always been fond of your friends, you realize.”

Harry nodded, though really he’d never thought much about the headmaster’s feelings about Hermione and Ron. “I’ll mention it to her this evening,” Harry said with a grin. He knew Hermione would like the idea, and not simply because it would take her mind off everything else.

“You’re eating with the rest of the staff, yeah?” Harry asked when they resumed walking.

“Professor Flitwick left this morning. Albus is the only other staff member here at the moment.”

“Oh,” Harry said with a frown. “But you’re you’ll have dinner with Remus, right?”

Severus smiled as he opened the door to their quarters. “You need not worry about how I will keep myself entertained when you aren’t here,” he said. “But yes,” he added when Harry opened his mouth to protest, “Lupin and I are joining the headmaster for dinner.”

“Good,” Harry said as he moved toward his bedroom, sparing a pat for Levi as his familiar perched on his shoulder. “Oh,” he said, turning as an afterthought, “Remus needs someone to talk to, I think. So…”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “And you are his coordinator?”

“Yep,” Harry said, ignoring the sarcasm. “I think he’s unhappy that Tonks took that assignment with Shacklebolt.”

“I see…”

“So if you’re having dinner with him any-”

“Harry,” Severus interrupted with a raised eyebrow, “do you really believe that Lupin intended you and I to converse about this subject?”

“Er…”

“Precisely,” Severus concluded for him. “Now unless you wish to be late, I suggest you shower and get dressed and leave Lupin’s personal affairs to Lupin.”

Harry sighed. Somehow, he’d known his father would say that. He was right, of course, no matter how much Harry hated to see his friend unhappy. He pushed thoughts of Remus aside for the moment and showered and dressed quickly.

“Mind if I use your shaving balm?” he called down the corridor after he’d finished with his Shaving Charm. He started when his father came up behind him.

“I did not realize this dinner with Hermione was quite so formal,” he said, reaching over Harry’s shoulder to pluck a small flask of the thin cream he brewed himself.

“It’s not,” Harry said, his eyebrows scrunching up as he gazed at his father’s reflection. “I overdid the charm a bit, and it’s chafing.”

Severus stepped aside and took his chin, tilting it so that he could study Harry’s raw cheeks. “A little too much force behind the swish,” he concluded. He released Harry’s chin. “Soothing Salve will work better. In my lab,” he said and Harry followed him, smoothing his shirt as he did.

Harry sighed as the salve cooled the fiery burn. “Thanks.”

Severus nodded as he sent the jar back to its spot in the cupboard. “You will be home before dark, I assume?”

“Early night,” Harry assured him.

“And you need no reminders about how to conduct yourself?”

Harry smiled. “Don’t think so.”

“Very well, then,” his father said, with just a hint of a smile.

The Floo flared and Hermione smiled at both of them as she stepped out. “Good evening, Professor. Hi Harry.”

“Hi,” Harry said, grinning. Severus greeted her as well.

Harry held open the door for her, turning back to his father before following. “Don’t do anything too exhausting while I’m out,” Harry said as he opened the door. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a round of chess.”

“An excellent idea.”

Harry smiled. “Have fun with Remus and Dumbledore.”

“It shall be the highlight of my summer,” Severus drawled. Harry laughed and with another smile, he ducked into the corridor. He told Hermione what his father had said about an internship as soon as they were alone.

Hermione clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Do you really think Dumbledore would do that for me?”

“Dumbledore knows just as well as anyone how smart you are. Why shouldn’t he help you?” Harry didn’t want to mention that his father had implied that the headmaster would help because Hermione was the Chosen One’s friend.

Hermione gripped Harry’s forearm in excitement as they went down the wide steps to the lawn. “I’ll write him a letter in the morning.” She shook her head, her brown hair tumbling all over. “I don’t even know what department I’m interested in... The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” she said firmly a moment later.

Harry grinned. “Well that certainly didn’t take long.”

Instead of looking sheepish, Hermione’s steps became lighter. “This is wonderful, Harry. Absolutely wonderful. My parents will be so excited. And can you imagine everything I can learn? That department controls everything to do with magical creatures … even house-elves. Just think of how I might be able to help!”

“You’ll be running the Department by summer’s end,” Harry said, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “If they ask me to run for Minister again, I’ll send them to you instead.”

Hermione laughed and they continued down the lane to Hogsmeade, both of them grinning.

--

“Wine?” Severus asked after he and Remus had left the headmaster’s office and reconvened in Severus’ quarters; Dobby had taken a sleeping Sirius back to his quarters after the main course. Severus poured for both of them and handed one of the glasses to Remus. The other man accepted with a sigh as he relaxed in one of the chairs.

“I had no idea that babies could cry quite so loudly,” he said. “Or that they did so all day.”

“You no longer wonder why Tonks wished to take Kingsley’s assignment, I take it?” Severus asked, smirking just a little.

“I’m half-tempted to take one myself,” Remus murmured into the dark liquid. “And yes, of course I do understand her accepting the assignment,” he said after he’d swallowed some. “It’s selfish of me to wish she wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps.”

Remus gazed at him briefly before smiling. “I know perfectly well that you believe it's Tonks’ decision that is selfish. Even if I couldn’t it read it all over face.”

Severus probably should have been offended, but he simply shrugged. “I do know very well what it means to risk your life when a child is involved.”

Remus nodded, no longer smiling. “Your risks were an effort to save your child though; and your wife. It wasn’t frivolity.”

“Being in the Auror service is not a frivolity,” Severus said evenly. “And your wife is highly skilled in her line of work.”

“I won’t deny that,” Remus said, his features set in hard angles. “I’ve seen her working. But anyone can take her place on any given assignment, Severus. She’s the only one who can be Sirius’ mother.”

If Remus was looking for an argument on that point, he certainly wouldn’t get one from Severus, but before Severus could say as much, the Floo opened. Both men stared at their red-haired guest.

“Erm … hello, sir…”

Remus found his voice first. “Good evening, Ron.”

“Hi Professor,” Ron said quietly. To Severus he said, “May I … er … come through?”

Only just realizing that he was gaping like a fish, Severus stepped back and gestured for him to enter.

“My, er … brother … George, that is. He’d like to come through as well.”

“Unless you come through first,” Severus said, unable to stop the sneer completely, “your brother will not be able to follow.”

“Uh, right sir.” Ron’s face darkened with his embarrassment as he stepped completely from the flames. Severus adjusted the Floo to allow George and the elder Weasley stepped through. George spent the first few seconds with eyes darting around the room, attempting to take in every recess of his former professor’s chambers. Ron nudged him with an elbow and George cleared his throat.

“Hallo Professor. Oh, and hi Professor,” he added as his eyes fell on Remus.

“Remus,” Lupin corrected with a small smile. “I’m no longer your professor.”

“Right,” George said with a nod. Severus gazed at the freckled faces, his eyes narrowing until a blush blossomed on George’s face as well. “I suppose you’re wondering why we’re here…”

“One would assume you came to speak with Harry,” Severus drawled. When he offered nothing else, George shifted and Ron licked his lips.

“Is he here, sir?” Ron ventured.

“No.”

The brothers glanced at one another and Severus almost took pity on them. Almost.

“Do you … know where he is, sir?” George asked quietly.

“Yes.”

George opened his mouth again but before he could, Ron blurted, “We came to apologize!”

“Indeed,” Severus said, purposely shifting his voice to convey his skepticism.

George frowned. “You have every reason to be angry with us, Professor,” he said, nudging his brother, though Severus had no idea why. “But we really did come to apologize. Fred had to mind the shop or he would have come as well.”

“I was under the impression that Fred had apologized already,” Severus said critically. “And Harry made it plain that the apology was inadequate, did he not?”

“Well,” George said slowly, glancing at Ron and then back again to Severus. “Fred rather thought that Harry wanted Ron to apologize on his own-”

“So you thought you would bring him here to do just that?” Severus folded his arms across his chest and fixed Ron with a hard glare. “Have you no ability to accept responsibility for your own actions then?”

Ron’s neck turned crimson as he visibly struggled for words.

“Professor,” George began, but Severus waved a hand to silence him.

“And neither can you speak for yourself?” he demanded.

Severus could see Remus out of the corner of his eye, frowning, but Severus would be damned if he’d allow any of the Weasleys to hurt Harry again; with the exception of Ginny. Ginny, as far as Severus was concerned, was sacrosanct and with her, he would not interfere.

“Well?” Severus prodded, his own scowl much fiercer than Remus’.

“I…” Ron clenched and unclenched his fingers several times before nodding. “I can speak for myself. I came to apologize.” The words were low and mumbled but for all that, Severus could detect no deception.

Severus studied his son’s dejected friend and finally put his anger aside. “Harry is due back from Hogsmeade within the next thirty minutes. You may wait for him if you wish.”

Ron let out a breath, his entire chest caving in. George patted his shoulder. “Thank you, sir,” he said, sounding even more relieved than Ron looked. “Would it be all right if we waited for him outside?”

Severus waved his hand toward the door. “You can find your way, I assume?” he asked, directing the question at George for the most part; he was well aware of how many times these dark dungeon labyrinths had been used by the twins.

George smiled, a bit of the impish Weasley that Severus had despised for years, showing himself. “I think so, sir.”

Severus nodded curtly. Ron turned back before they reached the door.

“Uh … Harry won’t be missing his curfew or anything if we talk to him?”

Severus had to feign his frown that time. “I believe I might excuse it this once.” He leveled a glare at the redhead. “Provided that there is no mischief.”

“No sir,” Ron said quickly, his face flaming once more. Severus saw George roll his eyes before grabbing his brother’s arm and giving him a shove out into the corridor.

“Thank you, sir,” George added as an afterthought. Severus nodded and the door closed behind them.

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know you haven’t lost your touch,” Remus said, no longer frowning as his lips twitched.

“Harry did mention this morning that I might be getting soft,” Severus said as he finally took a seat opposite Remus.

Remus chuckled. “After seeing that little display I’m fairly certain that that will never happen.”

Severus smirked, though it faded quickly.

Sobering, Remus asked, “Do you think Harry will want to see Ron?”

Twirling the long stem of his wine glass in his fingers, Severus said, “I believe Harry has been ready for some time to forgive him. And perhaps if he does, he will be better able to decide how he wishes to proceed with Ginny.”

Remus nodded. “Sounds silly I suppose,” he said with a fond smile, “but I cannot imagine Harry without her now.”

It didn’t sound silly at all to Severus, but he didn’t answer, instead taking a sip of his wine and focusing for a moment on his shields, fanning them unobtrusively toward Harry’s wisp in case Harry needed support.

--

“This spot is rather peaceful when the tree isn’t trying to kill us,” Harry said as he spread his light cloak over the grass. He gestured for Hermione to choose a spot first and she sighed in contentment as she leaned against the Whomping Willow’s wide trunk.

“It has a nice view of the lake,” she agreed, twisting a little so that Harry could sit beside her. She smiled. “We skipped rocks right there, just a few days after you defeated Voldemort; do you remember?” she asked, pointing to the pebbled stretch of beach in the distance; the horizon was dusted a deep orange. “You and Ron plotted the best way to turn the Minister’s hair into a rainbow…”

Her grin faded away as she swallowed. She stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “I really miss him, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said awkwardly. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Why don’t you tell him-”

“I can’t do that,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “All of this was my fault.”

“It wasn’t all-”

“Yes it was, Harry,” she said, her chin lifting a little. “Of course it was. I was the one that snubbed him when I first began to suspect. He tried to talk to me … a dozen times, but I didn’t want to talk about it. And I was so angry when he was so nervous.”

“That’s understandable-”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “And it was reasonable that he was so anxious. Seventeen year old boys are not meant to be fathers, especially like that.” She shook her head, her lips rueful now. “Especially not Ron.”

Harry let the words settle before saying quietly, “He would have done what he had to do.”

Hermione turned her face toward him, her lips lifted in sad smile. “I was stupid to doubt that, wasn’t I?”

Harry couldn’t say yes. Hermione nodded, taking his silence for agreement. “I’m sorry about Ginny,” she said quietly. “That’s my fault as well.”

“No it isn’t, Hermione,” Harry said, this time before she could interpret his silence again.

“I was in a muddle when I spoke with her that day,” Hermione continued anyway. “And I know I made her second guess your relationship-”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted, his voice strained. He didn’t want to talk about this. He’d said enough about Ginny lately. “You aren’t to blame. We both know Ginny well enough to know that she makes her own decisions.”

Hermione drew a deep breath but didn’t contradict him again, though he could clearly see the pain in her eyes.

“You should tell Ron this,” he said again when the silence began to gnaw at him.

“I can’t,” Hermione said through a deep, unsteady breath. “Things can’t be the same between us.”

“But you just said you miss him…”

“I do miss him … or rather I miss the old us.”

Harry didn’t believe that things couldn’t be okay between Hermione and Ron. But he realized a second later that maybe he couldn’t believe it because then, wouldn’t the same be true of him and Ginny?

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, frowning now, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you relive this awful situation. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

Harry cracked a smile. “You’ve always been a bit difficult to ignore.”

A bit of humor broke through Hermione’s clouded features. She laughed and shook her head. “Well, try anyway,” she said.

“Not a chance,” he told her with a smile. “Who would I talk to then?” He meant to make the question light but it made both of them tense. He almost apologized but Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and without thinking much about it, Harry slipped his arm up around her shoulders, brushing a bit of her curly hair away from her neck as they leaned into the comfort together. They sat like that for a long time, watching the sun sink into the lake.

“It is peaceful here,” she finally murmured and then sighed. “I hate to leave. But if you want me up bright and early for the match…”

“As bright and early as possible,” Harry said. “You have to keep Draco and me company you know, so I don’t want any chance of you falling asleep.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why you thought I’d be any help with that prat. He hates me.”

“He’ll pretend to like you though,” Harry said with a smirk; Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “And you can pretend as well. It’ll be a fine party,” he said in his best snooty voice.

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed as she straightened. Harry grinned and untangled himself. He pulled her up, steadying her as she swayed a little.

“Too many Butterbeers?” he teased. She shook her head.

“You were the one who had three,” she reminded him tartly.

“I think they put something in the food to make you thirsty,” Harry said seriously, smiling as Hermione’s brown eyes danced.

“Ask your dad to test it the next time you go in.”

Harry smiled. “He’ll think I’ve gone round the twist.”

“You haven’t?”

“Very funny, Hermione.”

She smiled at his scowl and then said seriously, “Thank you, Harry. And don’t ask me for what. Just everything, all right?”

Harry had to force himself not to look away as his cheeks warmed. He hadn’t done anything especially nice to Hermione. He was about to say so, but she hugged him before he could. Relieved, Harry put his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

Hermione pulled her head back a little; she was smiling. The sun was setting behind her, making her features warmer somehow and Harry smiled too. She leaned forward and Harry stilled as her lips pressed against his, soft even through their insistence.

Almost before he realized what was happening, she pulled back with a jerk, her eyes wide. “Harry…” she whispered and then Hermione clamped her fingers over her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry!” she choked out as she spun away.

“Hermione!” Harry finally found his voice as she crested the hill. “Wait!”

But she didn’t stop and in the next moment, she was gone and Harry was left standing under the Whomping Willow all alone, staring at the divots that Hermione’s frantic feet had made all the way up the grassy hill, his lips still warm from her kiss.

1997

Harry trudged through the castle, his mind not quite muddled enough not to wonder which Floo Hermione had used to get home. Or maybe she’d illegally Apparated; she was probably far gone enough to do it.

He still didn’t know what had happened. She’d kissed him; that much he was clear on. But as for why …

Harry shook his head and tried to force the giant knot in his stomach to dissipate. He hadn’t wanted that. Had he done something to make her believe he did? He had no idea really what a person usually did to let someone else know he wanted a snog-

Harry halted as he reached the bottom of the steps to the dungeon, his heart plummeting.

Ron and George shot to their feet, both of them yanking on their shirts to straighten them as Harry stared at them. The sconces on the walls flickered eerie patterns on their faces.

“Er, wotcher Harry,” Ron said quietly, a slow trail of crimson crawling up his neck, bleeding into his cheeks.

Harry’s tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth; clearly neither of them had any idea of what had just happened out by the Whomping Willow. “Hi,” he managed.

George cleared his throat. “Sorry to just-” He gestured with his hands, and then fell silent. Harry stared between them; he could feel his own face heating up as he remembered the feel of Hermione’s lips on his; lips that were meant for someone else. Even if Hermione had insisted that she and Ron could never be the same.

“Listen-” Both Ron and Harry closed their mouths abruptly but neither continued to speak. Harry tugged on his collar, feet shifting against the stones as he wondered if there was some sort of spell he could use to make them swallow him whole.

“I suppose Fred told you I spoke with him,” he finally said, halting over the words. The brothers nodded. “I, er … lost my temper a bit.” He wasn’t exactly sure if he was trying to apologize, but a huge part of him was relieved when Ron’s shoulders relaxed.

“It wasn’t your fault, mate,” he said. His blue eyes were so earnest that Harry wanted to skewer himself on his own wand. Hermione’s face invaded his thoughts; hiding inside the dungeons forever actually sounded appealing. Ron would never speak to him again anyway. And any hope of convincing Ginny that everything could be the same again-

Harry swallowed, his palm coming up to brace against the wall; his knees felt like liquid.

“Are you all right?” Ron asked, peering closely at him. “You look like you’re about to sick up.”

Harry shook his head, feeling exactly like he might hurl the contents of his stomach right onto Ron’s trainers. “Too many Butterbeers,” he said, trying for a grin and failing miserably.

Ron nodded though and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His gaze shifted around the dark corridor for a few seconds before settling somewhere around the vicinity of Harry’s left shoulder. “How’s your lip?” he asked gruffly. Confused, Harry’s fingers flew to his mouth but then he remembered that Ron had punched him at Snape Manor.

Feeling foolish, he shrugged. “Nothing broken.”

Ron nodded; his eyes slid to Harry’s face.

Before he could speak again, Harry said quickly, “I know I told Fred I wanted you to apologize but that was a bit stupid really-”

“No it wasn’t,” Ron cut him off, shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. “I wasn’t exactly sure what to say-”

Harry shook his head just as hard, flapping his hand as well and Ron fell silent. What Ron had done had been nothing compared to Harry’s own betrayal—not that he’d meant to betray his friend. But he must have done. Girls didn’t just haul off and kiss blokes for no reason.

“You going to the Cup?” Ron asked into the silence.

Harry nodded. “You?”

“Dad and I are going with Fred and George,” Ron said; his hands were digging even deeper into his pockets.

Harry swallowed and wished his throat didn’t ache. “Ginny isn’t going?”

Ron shook his head, his eyes darting to the floor and back again.

“How is she?” Harry asked quietly. Not that she would ever speak to him again; not that he had any right to know.

“She’s quiet…”

“You were right about what you said to Fred,” George finally spoke. “It was all of us who hurt Ginny, not you. And we were awful to you-”

“It’s all right,” Harry interrupted, because the Weasleys had been right after all, hadn’t they? He had hurt Ginny; it didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to. He didn’t think he could hate himself any more than he did right now; his belly burned with shame. “You were only worried about Ginny. She’s your sister.”

“Yeah, she is,” George said, his voice more serious than Harry had thought it could be. “But we adopted you into our family and that isn’t any way to treat family.”

Harry didn’t think he would be able to speak without giving himself away. George’s words would only be true until they found out what he’d done. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting it out.

“Thanks,” he finally warbled. It was a stupid thing to say but Harry’s insides were being gnawed to shreds and if he didn’t get away, he was certain he would explode.

“Even if you and Ginny-” George cleared his throat again. He shook his head. “I mean it when I say you’re family.”

Harry tried not to let the word in, but it burrowed down deep without his permission, planting itself in his ribcage and refused to leave. He didn’t deserve the warmth it gave him. But all he could do was nod.

Ron clapped his shoulder, the movement so awkward Harry nearly sidled away. The next time Ron touched him it would be to break his nose and this time, Harry knew he would deserve it.

“Ginny and I are taking turns working at the twins’ shop,” he said, still hesitant. “If you ever…” He gestured vaguely and Harry nodded. Ron offered him a ghost of a smile, which looked rather sickly next to George’s easy grin.

“You’re always welcome there, Harry,” George said, his words as earnest as they could be. “We’re all really sorry.”

“Right. Thanks.” Harry offered the best smile he could and then they all stood there, no one knowing what to say now that everything required had been said. “I … ought to go inside. You know, my dad…”

“Yeah.”

“Right,” Harry said again, doing his best imitation of an Echoing Charm. “Have fun … er, at the match.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there,” George said.

“Sure.” Because Ron would just love to see Draco. “Well, goodnight … oh, do you need to use the Floo?”

“We’ll Apparate beyond the gates.”

“Right.” Harry flushed; he sounded like a complete prat. “Night.”

“Night,” Ron and George murmured. George draped an arm over Ron’s shoulders and together they went up the stairs, Harry staring after them until they blended with the shadows. The door to his father’s quarters sprang open at his touch.

He paused as he stepped over the threshold. His father and Remus were bent over a chessboard, Remus chuckling at something while Severus scowled. They looked up as Harry closed the door and gave them a small smile. His father’s eyes immediately narrowed and since for all intents, Severus was inside his head, Harry wasn’t surprised.

“Who’s winning?” he asked, sliding his eyes from then intent gaze.

“Your father isn’t ready to concede defeat just yet,” Remus said, just as Levi landed on the top of Harry’s head. Claws kneaded his scalp for several long seconds; the kylaria’s purring vibrated through Harry’s skull.

“Did you speak with Ron and George?” Severus asked, neutrally as far as Remus’ ears were probably concerned and Harry was momentarily relieved to have an excuse for whatever emotions his father could feel.

“Yeah, they just left,” Harry said as he held out his palm for Levi. The little dragon hopped into his hand; he butted Harry’s chest, encouraging Harry’s thumb to trail down his back. Harry didn’t elaborate and neither his father nor Remus probed further.

“How was your evening?” Severus asked instead. “Hermione took a Floo from Hogsmeade?”

“Er … she left before I found Ron and George,” Harry said, shrugging to cover his flaring nerves. “I should probably go to bed … Cup tomorrow you know.”

His father’s eyebrows rose, but he simply said, “I will be retiring shortly as well.”

“Sirius will need to eat soon,” Remus added.

Harry nodded and smiled again. “I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said. He waggled his fingers in farewell and went to his room. He knew his dad would be in as soon as Remus left, which would probably be very soon, since Remus knew Harry almost as well as Severus did.

So Harry didn’t even bother pretending he was really tired. He flopped on his bed, fully clothed. “Fuck everything,” he muttered to Levi. Levi curled close to his chest and simply purred, the only way he knew how to help. Harry figured he was beyond help at this point.

His shoulders remained tense until Severus knocked on the door. Drawing in a deep breath through is nose, Harry called, “Come in.” Severus opened the door but didn’t come inside.

“Do you wish to speak about whatever is bothering you?” he asked. Harry shook his head and watched while the lines around his father’s mouth tightened. “Are you angry that I allowed Ron and George to wait for you?” he finally asked.

“No, of course not,” Harry said. “They didn’t do anything.”

After a short silence, Severus asked, “I do not need to tell you that I will listen should you wish to talk?”

Harry shook his head and after another moment, Severus nodded.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

“Night. Thanks, Dad,” he added before his father closed the door. Severus’ lips lifted in a tiny smile before he disappeared.

Harry listened to the sounds of his father preparing for bed as he stroked his purring familiar. He shifted restlessly against his pillow when the faint glow from across the corridor was finally extinguished and Harry darkened his own room as well; no need to call even more attention to his mental state.

After awhile, even Levi was asleep; his breathing soft and even beside Harry’s head but Harry had long since given up trying to sleep as well.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hermione’s face leaning in toward his and then Ginny’s, her eyes full of betrayal, her lips twisted with hurt. And Ron’s face, purple with rage. So he kept his eyes open, and tried not to think about any of them.

It was impossible.

Why the hell had Hermione kissed him? Even if he’d given her some reason to think he’d wanted a snog, was she mad? Didn’t she know that Ron would surely kill him? And if … if Ginny did still care about him, Hermione was in very real danger as well.

And no matter how many times he tried to figure it out—even when he tried to convince himself he must have wanted to kiss her, he couldn’t get past the fact that they hadn’t been Ginny’s lips. It had been wrong—the feel, the pressure; all of it.

Ginny’s lips were perfect. The way her body fit against his when they kissed was perfect too.

He had no idea how long he lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to stop himself from remembering every line and curve of Ginny’s body, but he finally gave up and spelled the lamps back up. Levi grunted at him in annoyance as he cracked an eye. “The dark is driving me mad,” Harry explained and with a disgruntled snort, the kylaria flew out the door when Harry opened it. Across the corridor, his father’s door was open, and Harry could see him in the sliver of light from his room; sleeping.

Sighing, Harry closed his door again and sagged onto his bed, though what he really needed was a cold shower.

It wasn’t quite midnight, though Harry was rather surprised that he’d lain awake for so long. He picked up one of the Quidditch magazines from the pile on the table next to his bed. He scooted back into the corner of the wall, drew his knees into his chest and flipped idly through the pages. He stared at the illustrated maneuvers, filling his head with Bludgers and Quaffles instead of Ginny’s soft breasts until his eyes began to cross; the pictures becoming blurrier the harder he stared at them.

--

“Harry …”

Harry smiled as he heard that soft, familiar voice in his dreams. He heard it again and then someone was shaking him. Scowling at the abrupt end to his fantasy, Harry dragged his eyes open and then he sat up abruptly, his neck screaming in protest.

Dreaming; he was dreaming. That was the only way Ginny could be standing in front of his closed door in her pajamas. As if he was pulled by puppeteer’s strings, Harry felt himself rising from the bed.

“Ginny?” he croaked. His face flushed and he cleared his throat.

“Hi,” Ginny said, her voice soft and uneven; as if she was about to cry. And though he wanted nothing more than to go to her, he couldn’t move. “I had to talk to you,” she whispered. “I know I should have waited until morning, but I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said; he swallowed. Apologies where once they wouldn’t have been needed; he hated it.

“Harry, I-” Ginny breathed, but then she shook her head, her long ginger ponytail swishing against her neck and even though he knew he shouldn’t allow it, a familiar warmth spread through Harry’s body. His breath faltered as he watched Ginny coming toward him. Without his permission, his feet were moving forward too. He tried to stop them; tried to convince himself that he couldn’t have what he wanted so badly.

“Harry,” she tried again, but Harry finally managed to shake his head, stopping their forward momentum; he planted his feet on the cold stones and stared down at the freckles sprinkled across Ginny’s nose as he tried to convince himself that she would care about what he had to say.

He blanketed the room in the strongest Privacy Charm he knew, taking his time as he returned his wand to the table.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. “And when I do you’re going to hate me, so please just let me say it before you leave.” His throat was throbbing as he stopped speaking; Ginny was gazing up at him, a crease in her forehead. “I didn’t mean to make her think I wanted to; I swear I didn’t, Ginny and I’m really sorry since I must have, but Hermione-” He had to grit his teeth before he could continue, “-kissed me.”

He willed himself not to look away; he wasn’t going to be a coward. Ginny didn’t look away either and after a silent moment, her forehead smoothed and she whispered, “I know.”

Harry felt his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to make sense of what he’d clearly heard.

“She told me,” Ginny explained, her voice soft and still warbling a little.

“She … did?”

Ginny nodded, her eyes not straying at all. “Came right to the twins’ shop; she was a mess. Blurted it all out right in front of Fred.” She shook her head as Harry felt the blood draining from his face. “He isn’t angry. He couldn’t be after listening to her.” She swallowed. “She said you didn’t kiss her back; that it was all her and I can’t even be mad at her.”

“She was just confused,” Harry tried to explain, feeling nearly panicked at the thought that Ginny might not understand. “She’s lonely and she misses Ron.”

Tears were making Ginny’s eyes sparkle; she shook her head to wave Harry’s words away. “That’s not what I mean,” she said softly. She wouldn’t have kissed you if I hadn’t been an idiot. A stupid, frightened idiot…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Did you?” she whispered. “Did you kiss her back?”

Harry was numb as he shook his head; he didn’t point out that he hadn’t had time, or that her lips hadn’t felt right at all. That it wouldn’t have meant anything if he had kissed Hermione. “Would it have mattered to you if I had?” he asked. Ginny drew back a little and Harry didn’t like the expression on her face, as though he’d said something truly heinous.

“Of course-”

“No,” he said, cutting her off with the sharp word; her mouth closed very slowly. “It isn’t an ‘of course’ sort of situation. How am I to know if you care who I do or don’t kiss?”

Ginny blinked several times before demanding shakily, “There were others?”

“No,” he breathed so loudly it was practically a hiss. “Of course not!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you’ve been snogging every girl in Britain?” Ginny whispered right back, her eyes snapping now.

“I didn’t snog any girls! And you’d know,” he retorted, “if you hadn’t insisted we not see each other.”

Ginny’s cheeks had flushed a bright red. “I didn’t say you could kiss anyone else,” she said fiercely.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either!”

Ginny’s face darkened as her eyes narrowed to slits and Harry shook his head as he realized how that sounded. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“I suppose I know exactly what you meant,” Ginny said, her voice icy now; her fingers balled into fists at her side and the anger that had been stewing for weeks finally exploded.

“You haven’t any right to be cross with me,” Harry said, his volume ratcheting up a notch. “This was your idea, not mine!”

“I was trying to make certain we didn’t ruin everything,” Ginny snapped. “Like Ron and Hermione did!”

“Who cares about Ron and Hermione? We aren’t Ron and Hermione. I don’t give a damn about them,” he said, keeping his voice as low as he could manage. “You used to trust me.”

“I do trust you-”

“No you don’t. You think I’d be as stupid as Ron.”

“I never said that!”

“As good as,” Harry come back with. “If you were pregnant, it would be my kid as well you know! I’d be frightened as hell but it wouldn’t matter. And it wouldn’t change the way I feel about you!”

“How do you know that, Harry?” Ginny was practically shouting now, the ponytail quivering with each word.

“Because I do,” he hissed; it took all his effort not to shout back.

“You can’t just say you know how things would-”

“It’s because I love you, Ginny,” he interrupted forcefully as he grabbed the nearest thing to curl his fingers around, which happened to be the back of the desk chair. “And if you don’t know how much I love you by now, then I don’t know why you even came here.”

“I came here to apologize,” Ginny said, crossing her arms over her chest and Harry finally recognized the defensive tone to go along with the posture; he sighed.

“You don’t have to,” he said, feeling like he’d been popped.

“Why not?” Ginny demanded. “You just said you love me.”

Confused, Harry said, “I do-”

“Then why can’t I apologize?” She lifted her chin, her defensiveness turned swiftly to defiance. “If you haven’t snogged every other girl in wizarding Britain, why can’t I say I’m sorry?”

“I haven’t snogged even one girl,” Harry snapped, his anger renewed with vigor. “But I had to read about all the blokes you’d supposedly snogged,” he reminded her.

“Do you think I wanted to read those things any more than you did? Do you think I enjoyed being a prisoner at the Burrow because every time I left, reporters hounded me for the names of my dozens of lovers!”

Harry cringed as the evocative word slipped from Ginny’s tongue.

“I came here because when Hermione told me she kissed you, I wanted to hex her,” she went on furiously. “I couldn’t even think of a spell awful enough. And then I stood there, imagining how many bloody Elizabeths from Hufflepuff there are in the world and how I'm going to hex every single one if they even look at you!”

It was wildly inappropriate but Harry couldn’t help it; he smiled.

“It isn’t funny, Harry!”

“It’s sort of funny,” he told her. “You’ll have to walk around Hogwarts all year with your wand out. And what are you going to do once I graduate, eh?” he asked, his smile tentative and hopeful all at once.

“Create a charm that will hex girls in my absence,” Ginny retorted. Her swift answer surprised both of them. Ginny flushed, but she didn’t look away and Harry’s chest swelled.

“You’ve already thought about it?”

“I thought maybe your dad would help me.” Ginny’s brown eyes danced for a moment but it didn’t last. “You’re right,” she said heavily. “I haven’t any right to be cross with you.” She crossed her arms again, but this time she just looked small and vulnerable. “And I don’t even have any right to tell you who you can and can’t kiss. I’ve bollixed everything-”

“No you haven’t,” Harry said quietly. “And as far as I’m concerned, Gin, you have every right to care who I kiss. I wouldn’t even bother with a hex if someone kissed you. Remember when I punched Pinth?” he asked seriously. “Well, I’d do a lot worse to any bloke who tried to kiss you.”

He didn’t particularly like Ginny’s surprised reaction. “You would?”

“What have I been saying for the past year?” he asked, his arms spreading wide in exasperation. “What do you not understand about how much I love you? Not once since this ridiculous situation started have I ever said otherwise, have I?” he demanded. “Haven’t I said over and over that I love you? That I would wait if you wanted to wait? Do you think I’ve been patient out of the goodness of my heart? Do you think I wanted to sit here and picture myself strangling dozens of fictitious men? I wouldn’t want to mangle people if I didn’t love you! How many times do I have to say it, Gin?!”

His voice was so hoarse from trying not to shout that Harry could hardly breathe.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me,” Ginny whispered, her voice nearly as hoarse as his was. “I didn’t know how to … tell you how sorry I was … We’d never had a row.”

Ginny stilled as Harry’s thumb came up to brush at a smudge of soot on her cheek. “I think this counts,” he said gruffly.

Ginny’s smile was shaky. “I meant before…”

“It doesn’t matter, Gin,” he said softly as his thumb traversed her cheekbone.

“It does,” she insisted, just as quietly. “I was an idiot-”

“No you weren’t.”

“Will you let me apologize?” Ginny demanded abruptly, her eyes flashing in a brief temper.

Harry’s thumb stopped its caresses but only for a second. He smiled. “If I let you apologize, will you stop feeling like you have to?” he asked, cupping her cheek.

“If you’d let me apologize, I wouldn’t need to any longer!” she said indignantly; her face moved with his touch though and Harry decided he’d had enough of talking.

“Well?” he asked softly and almost gave in right then as Ginny’s face grew warm under his fingertips.

“I’ m sorry-”

The apology was swallowed up as Harry kissed her. The instant their lips touched, electricity sparked between them, igniting every nerve ending in Harry’s body. It was everything that Hermione’s impromptu kiss hadn’t been. This was right.

Ginny’s arms were already wound around his neck, her body pressed to his before he could pull her in. Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged his head down, asking for more and Harry obliged, having not realized before that a kiss could be so deep.

Jolts of energy pulsed through them and Harry groaned into her mouth as her hands found his arse, pulling him even closer and in the next moments, the hands slipped up, under his shirt, her soft palms smoothing over his back as they kissed.

And then he was sitting on the bed, with Ginny standing between his knees; he was so foggy with sensation that he wasn’t even certain how they’d gotten there. She was pressed right against him, still kissing him even as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

His fingertips grazed her back, finding the clasp of her bra and with less trouble than he’d planned for, he released it; the elastics springing away from her skin. Harry pulled back, breathing heavily, silently asking her what she wanted. Ginny smiled at him, so beautiful with her flushed cheeks and hair spilling out from her ponytail.

With his free hand, Harry brought her lips to his, kissing her until nothing mattered but the way her skin felt against his.

1977

Severus looked up as a familiar shadow fell over his textbook. Lily was watching him, her green eyes intense; her slender fingers wound tightly together. Severus stood, the respect automatic, drilled into him since his very early childhood.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice deep with concern. She continued to stare at him as though she was trying to figure out why he was in the library, where he always was on Saturday afternoons. His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “Did Potter do something to you?” he demanded, his fingers curling at his sides. But Lily shook her head quickly, still looking rather dazed.

“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked, the words coming out in a rush. Confused, but perfectly willing to comply, Severus nodded.

“Of course, Lily.” She waited with barely concealed impatience while Severus swept his books into his bag and adjusted the strap quickly over his shoulder. Lily was fairly twitching when he stepped to her side. Severus put the requisite distance between them, but as they walked through the corridors, Lily seemed to be moving closer to him, and by the time they reached the third floor corridor, their arms were brushing together.

Severus followed Lily into the Room of Requirement once the door materialized in the wall. She was standing very close so he took a step back from her, refusing to allow his mind to wander down paths where it did not belong. Severus’ dark eyes widened when Lily moved with him.

What is she doing?

But of course, she could have no idea what she was doing to him; what reactions the nearness of her body were eliciting in him. He pushed the heat down. After the day when Lily had almost ended their friendship during their fifth year, Severus had vowed that he would never do anything to hurt Lily again. And this would hurt her. She was his friend, nothing more. She had made it perfectly plain, on more than one occasion, though Severus had never attempted to explain the depth of his feelings for her.

“You love me, don’t you?” she asked abruptly, her eyes locked with his as she studied him curiously. Severus stared down at her, too surprised to speak.

How had she known? He had been so careful. Even as boys paraded themselves around her, flirting with his Lily, he had been her friend throughout, not even batting an eye when she’d told him two days earlier that she had finally agreed to a date with James Potter.

“James kissed me,” Lily went on when Severus didn’t answer.

Severus’ heart squeezed painfully at the soft words. Why was she telling him this? And then his breath caught in his throat. Lily’s hand was on his chest. She moved closer until her breasts were pressed against his shirt. He felt the heat coursing up his neck again and he tried desperately to push it back down.

“And I wished,” she continued softly, “while he was kissing me … that I was kissing you instead.”

Her breasts, soft through the thin cotton of her shirt pressed more firmly against his’ chest. “Lily…” He tried to move away once more, but his head was cloudy with sensation. And then his eyes widened and he gaped down at her. Her green eyes were huge, filled with expectation—with new and unexpected warmth.

“What did you say?” Severus breathed.

Lily smiled, making Severus’ heart pound erratically. Lily had never looked at him that way before. He had never seen her look at anybody that way before. Her fingers reached up to caress his cheek. “I think I’m in love with you, Sev.”

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Severus was at a loss for words. “You think you...” he said slowly, dumbly as Lily’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, down to his mouth. She drew her thumb slowly across his lips.

“All day, when James and I were walking through Hogsmeade together, I kept thinking of you,” Lily went on, her fingers now trailing down his arm, “wondering what it would be like to hold your hand…”

Severus stared at his hand now as she traced designs over his palm; his breathing becoming shallower as she lifted it and placed it on her breast—over her quickening heartbeat.

“…what your lips would feel like … whether or not you’d lean down and push your chest against me…” Lily’s voice was huskier now, nearly breathless. And as she spoke, she slid her hands up Severus’ chest; Severus was frozen, his long fingers still nestling her quivering breast.

Shaking… Lily was shaking.

“… or if you’d pull me toward you, your fingers brushing my back…”

And they were; Severus’ fingertips pressed into the small dip just below her hips. His arms were drawing her closer instinctively; her breath warm against his chin. Her lips, so soft as his head bent to meet hers. He pulled her toward him until there was no more space between them.

Lily’s arms wound around his neck; her fingers were tangling in his long hair as her tongue surged past his lips. He welcomed her, murmuring low in his throat as sensations exploded along every centimeter of his body. He needed to be closer; his mouth needed more of the warmth of her tongue. More of everything Lily was offering.

But he forced his roaming fingers to stay against her back, ignoring his body’s protests. He moaned, unable to still the desire though as Lily’s hip brushed against him. Conditioned to expect Lily’s need for space between them, Severus stiffened and started to pull away, but Lily’s small body pressed forward, insistent.

“Lily…” he tried to say around her lips, but she didn’t let him speak. And he forgot why he even wanted to as she continued to kiss him.

--

1997

“You know you’re going to have to go home eventually,” Harry murmured as he let go of Ginny’s hair so that it cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

She laughed. “Why? If anyone’s noticed I’m not in my bed, I’m going to be in trouble no matter when I leave.”

“They can’t have noticed, since your brothers haven’t cursed me yet.”

“My brothers are prats,” Ginny said, wrinkling her freckled nose as she shifted and Harry had to bite his lip as her leg brushed against his groin.

He leaned in to kiss her neck to hide the flush he could feel creeping into his cheeks. “I hope you aren’t expecting me to disagree,” he said, too gruffly but Ginny was too busy shivering at the feathered kisses to notice. Her fingers walked over the small patch of his chest that was exposed.

“Ron told me he apologized,” she said. “George said you were acting funny.”

Harry shrugged, trying to make his flesh behave but it was rather difficult when Ginny kept trailing her hand up and down his chest; playing with the buttons she hadn’t opened. “I couldn’t really focus on what they were saying.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Harry smiled against Ginny’s neck, even though it wasn’t funny. “I don’t think Ron will see it that way.”

“Well, he’d better,” Ginny said darkly.

Harry lifted his head. “They were only trying to protect you, you know,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Not that you need it.”

Ginny smiled as she shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he asked as his hands planted on her hips, his fingers dipping just below her waistband; he liked the way it made her voice shake.

“You don’t have to … forgive them so easily…”

“Good point,” Harry said, still grinning from her reaction. He cared very little about Ginny’s brothers at the moment. “I’m going to the World Cup match tomorrow,” he told her; he tugged her hips forward and she dropped the button she was fiddling with to drape her arms around his neck again. “Want to come?”

“You don’t think Draco will mind?” she teased.

“Don’t care,” he said quietly and then they were silent for several minutes, their tongues busy with other things. When they broke apart, Harry pressed his cheek to hers and enjoyed the feel of her chest heaving against his.

“Hermione told me she isn’t going,” Ginny said when their breathing had slowed.

“She doesn’t have to do that.” Harry pulled back a little, frowning now. “Unless you don’t want her there?”

Ginny circled one of his ears with her fingertip and didn’t answer.

“You said you weren’t angry-”

“I’m not,” Ginny sighed. “I’m feeling rather idiotic-”

“You shouldn’t,” Harry told her firmly. “But she doesn’t have to come if it will make you uncomfortable.”

“Hermione’s my friend,” Ginny said quietly, though she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than actually making a statement. “She feels awful enough already…” She shrugged. “I’ll Floo her before we have to leave … What time do we have to leave?”

“I love you, you know,” Harry said, smiling as a pleased flush crept into her cheeks. But then her smile faltered.

“Harry…”

“If you apologize again,” Harry interrupted with mock-severity, “I won’t loan you my cloak so you can sneak out of here.”

“Yes you will,” Ginny said, smiling as she kissed him again.

“You’re right; I will,” he agreed. What wouldn’t he do for her? “How did you even leave without someone hearing the Floo?”

“Silencing Charm … with Ron’s wand,” she told him with a grin.

“Mm … you’re brilliant.”

“And your dad didn’t even wake up either.”

Harry’s hands dropped from Ginny’s waist. His dad…

“What’s the matter?” Ginny ginger eyebrows came together. “He didn’t, Harry. I saw him in his bed when I came in.”

“He never sleeps through the Floo,” Harry told her, grimacing. “And he always knows who’s coming in.”

“You think he’ll be upset that I’m here?” Ginny asked, surprised.

Harry smiled despite the sudden spike of anxiety in his stomach. “Not a chance.”

“Then why are you making a face?”

“He can feel my emotions,” Harry reminded her. “Especially when I’m really happy… ”

Ginny flushed, her own lips twisting. “Don’t you have a way to turn that off?”

“Yeah … I had other things on my mind though.”

Ginny accepted his kiss before pulling away and shaking her head. “But if he knows we’re in here, why hasn’t he come in?”

Harry combed his fingers through her soft hair before answering seriously, “He’s been rather anxious for me to see you. And since I didn’t shut him out, I think he would realize if we had been … doing anything more serious.”

Ginny didn’t say anything as she threaded one of his buttons back through its hole.

“I didn’t mean to keep my shields down,” he said. “He wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what it sounds like. It’s not like that-”

Ginny’s eyes came up. “I wasn’t worried about that,” she said, smiling a little. “I’ve thought about you every single day … all day.”

Harry’s hands slid down Ginny’s sides, coming to rest again on her hips. He kept his hands away from her skin this time, but her breath hitched anyway.

“I know you wouldn’t run away if I was pregnant,” she said and even though Harry didn’t really want to re-hash this, Ginny obviously needed to, so he simply nodded. “I never thought that, though, Harry; not really. Hermione was a mess that day and I had this image in my head of me losing my head—like she did. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven.” She laughed, though it was a nervous sound. “I know that sounds silly-”

“It doesn’t sound silly,” Harry assured her. If he had been paying any attention, he would have loved her too.

“It was me that I was frightened of,” she went on. “I didn’t trust me not to ruin everything. I couldn’t bear it if-” She shook her head, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Gin, I’m not going anywhere. Even when you want me to, I don’t,” he teased.

But instead of smiling along with his jest, Ginny took his face in between her small hands. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. I was stupid to even think it would help to be away from you.” He would have protested, but Ginny put a thumb over his lips. “And it was even stupider to think I’d want you less somehow.”

“You don’t?” he murmured, still not in the mood to be completely serious. She smirked.

“Do you think I let just anyone touch me like that?”

Instantly sobering, Harry scowled. “You’d better not.”

Ginny laughed, the sound making Harry feel happier than he had in weeks. She kissed him as she reached back to re-fasten her bra and then she caught his hands, still poised on her waist and pulled them to wrap around her back; she slipped hers around his neck again.

“I won’t,” she told him as she pressed her lips to his cheek. “And you keep your lips to yourself.”

It took Harry a moment to realize she was probably referring to Hermione. The entire incident made him want to crawl into a hole but he nodded anyway. “Next time a girl tries to kiss me, I’ll hex her,” he said solemnly; Ginny grinned.

“Good.” She was kissing him again after that and all thoughts of Hermione and anything else left his head. When they broke apart, Harry pulled her close, wanting to hold her for the rest of the night.

“Maybe no one will miss you in the morning,” he said against her ear.

“Hazard of being the only girl in the family.”

Harry sighed. “You’ll have to explain something when you tell them you want to come to the match with me,” he said as they untangled their limbs.

“I’ll just tell my dad and Ron I want to come with them.”

Harry shook his head though. “I don’t think it will help anything if you lie to them-”

“I’ll explain to Dad that I want to see you when we get there. He’ll let me,” she assured him.

“If you’re certain…”

Ginny stretched up and kissed him. “Absolutely. Dad adores you, you know. He didn’t want to go along with any of this but you know how Mum gets.”

Harry didn’t really want to say he did, so he settled for kissing Ginny once more before quietly opening the door. His father’s door was closed now, which made Harry’s stomach twist into knots. As quietly as he could, he walked Ginny to the Floo.

“I’ll meet you at the entrance to the stands,” he told her, pulling her in for another hug. “Ten o’clock.”

Ginny nodded and then into his ear, she whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry wasn’t particularly fond of the way his throat nearly closed over the words, but he didn’t think Ginny minded. She kissed him then, until the clock above the heads struck three o’clock.

Harry’s fingers traced her jaw again as she pulled away, reluctantly letting his hand fall a moment later. Smiling, Ginny stepped into the Floo and was whisked away.

He flapped a hand at Levi, who grumbled in an unappreciative sort of way and closed his eyes again. Deciding he was way too unlucky for his dad to have slept through the Floo—no matter what Ginny had said—Harry went back down the corridor slowly.

His father’s door was still closed. Narrowing his eyes, he realized that it was entirely possible that his dad wasn’t even here. He pushed the door open, making certain it didn’t creak at all. The room was dark; he squinted as he let his eyes adjust.

His dad was definitely in bed. Harry crept toward the still form as irrational fears zinged through his head. He looks like he was breathing anyway. Harry leaned down; peering closely at his father’s closed eyes, holding his own breath as he studied the relaxed face.

Severus’ eyes snapped open. “Problem?”

“Ah!” Harry gasped as he jerked back. “Don’t do that,” he breathed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Severus’ lips quirked. “Did I?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Harry said as he sank onto the edge of the bed, his heart thumping in his chest.

Severus sent a spell toward the walls, illuminating the room as he sat up. “Why did you come in here then?” he asked, still looking amused.

“Er…”

“Wondering if I had been woken by the Floo?”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his still-tingling cheek. “You heard that, eh?”

Severus nodded. “That is all I heard however.”

Some of the tension left Harry’s shoulders. “You’re not angry, are you?” he asked, just in case.

His father raised an eyebrow. “Should I be? I assumed this visit was unplanned.”

Harry fiddled with his buttons as he shook his head. “It was,” he said quietly, glancing down as he realized that his shirt was still half undone. He flushed and when he looked up again, Severus’ gaze had followed his fingers. “We … er, didn’t do anything,” he said as he did up the rest of the buttons.

“Have you settled things between you?” Severus asked. Harry relaxed further, grateful for the change of subject.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling as he remembered just how well they’d settled them.

Severus smiled, and Harry fairly basked in the approval. “Did Ginny’s decision to come here have anything to do with her brother’s visit?” Severus asked, pulling Harry from his light-hearted moment.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself as he shook his head. “I wanted to tell you about what happened earlier, but I didn’t know how to begin. Hermione kissed me.”

After a tiny pause, Severus nodded; Harry’s brows furrowed.

“That’s all?” he asked incredulously. “Aren’t you surprised?”

“I am,” Severus assured him with a small frown. He summoned a blanket from his bureau and handed it to Harry. After Harry was covered, he said, “Ginny discovered what transpired rather quickly.”

“Hermione told her.”

“Ah.” Severus narrowed his eyes in thought as he studied Harry. “Ron does not know?”

“Not unless Hermione told him as well,” Harry said, his cheeks glowing at the thought. “I don’t think she would though … but then I didn’t think she would kiss me either.”

“Are you going to tell Ron?”

Harry squinted up at his father. “Do you think I should?”

“I think perhaps you should encourage Hermione to tell him,” Severus said. “I believe he might accept it better.”

Harry sighed. “I still don’t know why she did that.”

“If she was Slytherin, I would say she kissed you in order to make Ginny jealous.”

Harry smiled as he shook his head. “Hermione wouldn’t do that.”

“No,” Severus agreed. “But Ginny was jealous, I take it?”

“She wants to create a spell that hexes girls while I’m away from Hogwarts,” Harry said, grinning. “She wants you to help.”

“Does she? The idea does have merit,” Severus mused and Harry could see his father’ mind turning the idea over. He laughed; Severus smiled at the sound. “I am pleased to see you so happy.”

“Ginny’s going to come to the match tomorrow,” Harry said, still smiling as his stomach flipped with his excitement.

“Will Hermione be joining you?”

“Not sure,” Harry said as he shrugged inside his blanket cocoon. “Ginny’s going to square it with her dad though. It’s all right with you if she comes, yeah?”

“I think you know very well that Ginny is always welcome,” Severus said seriously.

Harry focused on the warmth coming from this father’s flames. “Thanks.”

“Lupin and I will sit elsewhere, if you like,” Severus added, looking thoughtful, “though I believe it will be a bit more difficult to rid yourself of Draco.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if Draco sat somewhere else, but you and Remus don’t need to,” Harry said. “And besides, Mr. Weasley will probably want to sit with us as well.” Remembering how his dad had been so upset with both Weasley parents, he asked nervously, “You aren’t going to want to talk to him or anything, are you?”

“I am not allowed to speak with Arthur?” Severus asked with a smirk.

“Well, you know what I mean,” Harry grumbled, making a face at his father’s amusement.

“Yes I do,” Severus said, more seriously. “And as long as Arthur allows you and Ginny to be together, I will say nothing.”

“Ginny says he will.”

“Since I have no doubt that it was Molly’s idea to begin with,” Severus agreed, “I foresee no problems.”

“No problems?” Harry echoed with a wry grin. “That would be a first, wouldn’t it?”

--

Ginny was waiting for him the following morning, just as they’d planned—with Mr. Weasley and three brothers in tow. Ginny beamed as soon as she saw him, launching herself at him before he could even say hello. Harry hugged her tightly as she kissed his cheek.

“Missed you,” he murmured against her hair. They stayed that way for only a moment and then Harry finally looked up.

The Weasley men all looked shocked and Harry realized the greeting must have been startling without the entire story. And he had no idea what Ginny had told her family. But Mr. Weasley was smiling a second later so Harry relaxed; Mr. Weasley looked relieved actually.

Harry smiled and stuck out a hand as Ginny wound an arm firmly around his waist. “It’s good to see you again, sir,” he said, feeling only a minor twinge for lying. Mr. Weasley shook his hand, his own smile faltering just a little.

“You as well, Harry,” he said quietly. “We’ve missed you. And it’s just Arthur … if you’d like.”

The uncertainty didn’t really suit the normally happy man. And though Harry would have liked to air a few of his stored grievances, there was no way he would. Especially not with Ginny so happy beside him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he said and five redheads smiled. Harry slid his free arm around Ginny’s shoulders, unable to stop his own grin.

The reunion between Arthur and Severus was a bit icier—at least on Severus’ part. Severus caught Harry’s gaze as Arthur greeted him. Harry didn’t put his plea into mental words, but he knew his father could see it in his eyes.

“Will you be joining us?” Severus asked as he turned his attention back to Arthur; the words were rather cold, but Harry hadn’t really expected anything else. “We are in one of the upper suites.”

Arthur glanced at Harry and Ginny, who were firmly entwined. “If you have room…”

Severus’ nod was curt and then with Harry and Ginny leading the way, the fractured group made their way up the stands.

1997

Ginny leaned against the half-wall of their box, her back pressed to Harry’s chest. He had his arms round her waist and his chin propped on her shoulder.

“Do you think any of them are ever going to talk?” she asked as Harry nuzzled his cheek close to hers.

“I don’t much care,” he murmured. The game had started hours ago and neither the Weasleys nor Severus had spoken at all. Draco had wrinkled his nose in distaste as the box was overrun and had disappeared after only fifteen minutes of the awkward silence. Harry had no idea where he’d gone. He hadn’t cared enough to ask. “What did you tell them anyway? Your dad and brothers.”

“That you expressed your undying love of course. With a serenade.”

“Oh, you did not.”

Ginny laughed. “Yes I did. But of course you couldn’t actually visit, so you sent Hedwig with a letter charmed with the song.”

“And that would convince you to see me?” Harry asked dubiously.

Ginny turned in his arms; her lips were twitching. “What song would you sing?”

“Erm… Well, I do know the Cannons’ anthem.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “How romantic.”

“No? You thought a Snitch necklace was romantic,” he teased. Ginny smiled as she touched the silver Snitch at her throat. She stretched up for a kiss and Harry obliged with a smile. The Snitch had definitely been a brilliant idea. He took his time kissing her, paying no mind to the rest of the world until there was a great roar from the crowd… the announcer saying something…

“I think Italy just got the Snitch.”

“Mmm…”

Ginny’s laugh against his lips made Harry smile and he pulled back so he could let his eyes take in every soft line of her face. “Think your dad will let you come back to the cottage?”

“Have you moved everything in?” Ginny asked with surprise.

“Mostly.”

Ginny had to stop talking then, since conversation was another thing Harry didn’t care for just now. His lips lingered on hers and he wished they weren’t at the match.

“What’s so funny?” Ginny murmured, her own mouth twitching at his smile.

“Not funny,” he told her. “Wishing we were alone.”

“Harry,” his father’s deep voice interrupted and Severus’ hand settled briefly on his shoulder. Harry sighed softly and pulled away from Ginny. Witches and wizards were making their way slowly back to ground level. “Arthur has invited us for dinner.”

“Yeah?” He glanced around his father, finding the Weasleys standing in a nervous clump. “Er… Mrs. Weasley?”

“She is not expecting us, but Arthur assures me we are welcome.”

Harry wanted to smirk at the irony of that statement but instead turned to Ginny.

“Mum will be happy to see you,” Ginny said before Harry could ask. She wasn’t smiling any longer though. She took a little breath and said to Severus, “It really wasn’t their fault. Harry knows, but it was really-”

“Gin, you don’t need to explain anything,” Harry interrupted; he squeezed her hand. “Dad understands.” Harry knew Dad didn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to let Ginny apologize again.

Ginny glanced between Harry and Severus, obviously not believing Harry for a moment, but of course Severus’ face gave away nothing and finally she nodded on a sigh. His arm secure around Ginny’s waist, they turned, stepping together toward the waiting Weasleys.

--

The Weasley men went through the door first, with Harry sandwiched between Ron and Ginny… and Severus trailing at the end of the queue; Remus had gone home to reclaim Sirius from Dobby.

Mrs. Weasley was overseeing half a dozen pots and pans; she waved distractedly as her family trooped in, not even noticing the extra bodies until Arthur said over the din, “Molly dear… we’ve brought visitors…”

“Visitors?” she echoed. She looked up and froze; the expression on her face would have been comical. Except that tears immediately sprang to her eyes and she warbled, “Harry?”

Ginny had an arm firmly around his waist and Mrs. Weasley looked between them, her face doing all sorts of strange contortions. She finally settled on a watery smile as she pushed Fred and George aside to get to Harry. She gripped his shoulders and Harry managed a very feeble, “Hi.”

The tears spilled over and Harry found himself clutched in a frighteningly strong embrace. He tried to let his shoulders relax, but it took more effort than he had. He hadn’t realized until this moment exactly how rejected he’d been feeling. Mrs. Weasley had, for years, been the closest thing he had had to a mother and though his rational mind told him that she hadn’t really cast him away, the ache in his throat said differently.

“Oh Harry,” she said softly as she brushed a hand through his hair. It seemed like she wanted to say something else but she only sniffed a few times, and after another agonizing moment, she stepped back.

Harry ducked his head, afraid that his emotions would show on his face. Ginny’s hand slipped into his again and he let himself glance up quickly; her face was pinched with worry. He smiled but it only deepened the anxiety in her dark eyes. He tugged her closer, but even that didn’t relax her.

“Dinner will just be another few minutes,” Mrs. Weasley said in between sniffs; she was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Boys, help me set the table, would you and Arthur… perhaps Severus would like a drink.” She ushered the twins and Ron to find the plates, and smiled once more between Ginny and Harry before bustling off to her pans.

Arthur gestured awkwardly toward the parlour, and looking very stiff, Severus followed. Not wanting to leave his father alone with Ginny’s dad, Harry went with them, Ginny’s fingers still firmly twined with his. Harry pressed his lips to her hair. He hadn’t expected her to be so rattled and he wondered how long it would take for her to forgive herself.

“Oy. Ron…”

Harry twisted, half-way into the parlour. Fred was in front of the kitchen window. Ron looked over from where he was plunking forks onto the table.

“What?”

Fred gestured limply toward the glass. “Erm… Hermione.”

Ron froze.

Ginny drew in a sharp breath.

Mrs. Weasley dropped the pot she was holding.

And the twins turned at the same moment—toward Harry.

Harry wanted to close his eyes, but he wasn’t quite coward enough; he could almost feel the ax grazing his neck.

Ron yanked his shirt straight and swallowed loudly. His face as pale as bone, he went outside.

As if he was stuck inside a Pensieve, Harry watched through the window as Ron crossed the lawn, his steps clearly unsure. Neither he nor Hermione spoke for long minutes when he finally reached her.

Hermione finally spoke first, her lips moving so fast that Harry couldn’t imagine that Ron would be able to decipher what she was saying, even so close. But Harry knew the instant that Hermione told Ron about the kiss. The nervous fidgeting stopped abruptly and then Ron spun around so quickly that Harry took a step back.

He heard the swish of his father’s robes behind him and was unprepared for the solid wall of Ginny that suddenly materialized in front of him as the kitchen door was flung open. It smacked against the window pane and a collective breath was held. But the glass stayed intact and Ron, his face red and livid, stalked forward.

Harry would have liked to say he didn’t even flinch, but if his father hadn’t been blocking his exit, he would have fled.

“You!”

Ginny matched his next step forward. “Don’t you dare, Ron Weasley!” Her voice was loud in the hush.

“Me?” Ron said, just as loudly, “He-”

“I already know,” she drowned him out. “And it wasn’t his fault. Hermione must have told you so.” She didn’t let Ron answer, ploughing ahead, her hands on her hips, “It meant nothing; you know very well that Harry would never betray you like that. He loves you, even though you don’t deserve it. And Hermione was just upset and confused. And she loves you too. I’m not angry about it. So you,” she said, jabbing Ron’s chest with her finger, “grow up, go outside and snog Hermione senseless.”

Ron’s mouth finally snapped shut. He stared at Ginny for a long minute, his gaze switching very briefly to Harry and then he pivoted round, stalked out the door and pulled a very surprised Hermione to him. He did kiss her, for several minutes until both of them gasped for air.

Their eyes were glazed as Ron tugged her over the threshold and back into the kitchen, though the haze quickly left as Ron planted himself and Hermione in front of Mrs. Weasley, his mouth set in a determined line. Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted both to embrace Hermione and scold her but, not unexpectedly, the hug won out.

She was dabbing at her eyes again as she released Hermione and began scooping up pasta with a wave of her wand. “Sit, sit, everyone,” she called out, waving her occupied hands toward the table.

With a great deal more cheer Ginny pulled Harry to one end while Ron pulled a chair out for Hermione at the other. Harry was watching his friend carefully, but finally, Ron looked up and after a wary moment, he grunted and plopped himself down next to Hermione. Harry caught Ginny’s eye and they grinned; that grunt was as good as a declaration of brotherhood as far as Harry was concerned.

“Does anyone want to help test out our newest product line after dinner?” George asked brightly as the rest of the family was seated, Severus on Harry’s other side. Mrs. Weasley eyed George over the tray of chicken.

“Don’t worry, mum, it’s nothing dangerous,” Fred assured her and then grinned. “Well, it won’t damage anything permanently anyway…”

“Now see here, young man,” Mrs. Weasley began to lecture, even as she gave him a generous helping from the platter.

Harry grinned at his father’s resigned expression. Severus glanced over; he shook his head, the barest smile on his lips.

Everything’s all right, Harry told him silently; nearly giddy with relief.

Yes, I can see that… Affection clear in his father’s black eyes, but he was looking at Ginny, who was running her fingers absently through Harry’s hair as she suggested that Fred should test their products in their flat, instead of trying to destroy the Burrow. Remind me not to invite the twins to our cottage, Severus added, his flames coming forward to warm Harry through.

Harry’s storm vibrated with laughter.