Soth-ince Den, The Lizard, Cornwall, July 1996 (30)

Waking up was different. The cushiony buffer stunting the movement of Harry's left arm informed him that he was not in his bed, but in the sitting room, on the sofa. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep there, but it was the first time he had woken up there. Taking a moment to orient himself, he flipped onto his back, snuggling his head against his pillow.

The sun was at its peak, and he squeezed his eyes closed tighter against its saturating light. Through the small open window behind the sofa, Harry fancied he could hear the ocean crashing against the coast's craggy edges. That soothing sound mingled with the awkwardly dry honk of the resident Diricawl.

A week ago, Harry had glimpsed the dodo-like bird near the oak grove, but when Fang tried to flush it out of its nesting spot, it had quickly vanished, abandoning stray feathers in its wake. The ensuing bang of the bird's disappearance had startled the dog so that he yelped, and then raced back to cower behind Harry, whimpering pitifully. As the boarhound snored softly from his spot beneath the large window, Harry smiled at the memory.

Warm and sated, he was tempted to roll over and catch a few more winks; instead, he inhaled deeply. The scent of cinnamon and cloves pervaded his nose, making his chest swell easily, wondrously, framing his heart as it beat an airy rhythm - a welcome contrast to its plodding cadence of recent months.

That deep inhale ignited a jaw-cracking yawn. Lazily, he stretched his arms above him until his fist struck something bony, which grunted. Though gummy with sleep, his eyes flew open as he jerked around to find a blurry Snape grasping his hawk-like nose in both hands.

Harry shot up, horrified.

"Sorry, sir!" he croaked, escaping to the other end of the sofa, tangling his limbs up in the dark blanket covering him. As he struggled out of it, he squinted, watching Snape slowly pull his hands from his face, wiggling his top lip and nose.

"Your glasses are on the table," Snape said, sounding a bit nasally.

Harry snatched them up, grateful when the world came into focus. Looking down, he recognized the aromatic ‘blanket' as Snape's robes. He carefully folded them up and laid them on the table.

Though he figured Snape was heartily tired of hearing the question, Harry asked, "You okay?"

Snape was standing now, still tenderly fingering his nose. He shot Harry an exasperated look and muttered, "I'm fine. Nothing broken, nothing bruised."

Taking in the man's appearance, Harry noted several oddly placed stains on his otherwise pristine, black trousers. He blushed, realizing they were from his crying all over the man. Snape caught him looking and glanced down.

"Sorry..." Harry whispered.

Snape closed his eyes, irritated. "Stop apologizing, Potter! Not everything you do is punishable by law!"

"Sor -" He stopped. It was an ingrained response, honed to perfection while residing in the Dursley household.

"Go get cleaned up," Snape said. He sighed inwardly as Harry shuffled past, shoulders slumped.

*WO

In the shower, Harry berated himself for being consistently emotionally weak in front of Snape. What was wrong with him? Only weeks ago he had boasted to the man that he was glad he'd always been hard on him because it motivated him to be strong! Now all he ever did was fall apart in the man's presence. It was maddening!

With last night's events still fresh in his mind, Harry recalled hating Snape for forcing that potion on him, but he now understood why Snape had done it. The emotional lightness he had experienced while lying on the sofa, lingered; he hoped this meant an end to the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on since Sirius's death. It had proved an exhausting ride, and he imagined his numerous outbursts had been no piece of cake for Snape either.

Harry ruefully wondered if Snape had truly grasped the repercussions of looking after him; if Snape had counted on him being such a challenge.

He wondered if the man regretted it.

Emerging from the bathroom, he dripped the short distance across the hall to his room where he toweled himself dry and dressed. The door to the bathroom closed just as he opened his to stepped out into the hall. There, the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked rolls and ham wafted in from the kitchen to tease his senses.

In the kitchen, Harry set a place for himself and Snape. He then sat down, hungrily eyeing everything, but eating nothing, waiting the fifteen minutes it took for Snape to leave the bathroom. When he heard the bathroom door open, Harry filled the glasses, pouring from the white stone pitcher. Seconds later, with still damp hair, Snape rounded the corner. He looked up to see Harry's tentative half-smile.

"You haven't eaten?" Snape frowned, eyes roaming the table.

"I was waiting on you."

Snape grunted. "You needn't have," he said softly, taking his seat.

He took up the platter of eggs, and as always, tipped a generous amount onto Harry's plate, following them up with rolls, ham, and mushrooms. Harry knew he was underweight for his age, but at this rate, he was going to look like Crabbe and Goyle put together come the end of summer. Nevertheless, he happily ate his fill.

After clearing his plate, Snape poured himself a cup of tea and leaned back, crossing his legs. Harry took the opportunity to ask something that had been on his mind since leaving Hogwarts.

"Why am I always so tired after using my magic?"

Snape thought a moment before answering.

"I rather suspect it has more to do with how you are feeling at that moment than with the simple use of magic." Harry frowned. "Anger and fear," Snape said, "for anyone, are an emotional drain. That coupled with the rather impressive depth of your powers, it's not surprising it physically devastates you."

"Oh," Harry said, now understanding why Snape was adamant that his thoughts be positive. "It's like using happy thoughts to conjure a Patronus, like Remus taught me."

"It's not so different, theoretically, but conjuring a Patronus is a singular event. Your wandless magic is wholly dependent upon your emotions no matter what spell you cast, thus you must always be diligent in your intent."

Harry nodded at Snape's teacher-speak as he got up to clear the table, resolving to work harder at not letting his emotions rule him when it came to his magic.

"What are we working on today?" he asked.

"Nothing." 

"Yeah?" Harry turned to look at Snape, surprised.

"Yes. We're going into the village."

Snape had mentioned a nearby village and how they might be visiting it at some point during their stay. When Harry questioned Snape about the safety factor, Snape assured him all would be well as they would both be taking Polyjuice Potion.

"What are we going to do there?" asked Harry, eager to roam freely amongst a crowd without fear of being recognized.

"There is a festival. I need to replenish some things and there will be vendors dealing in special herbs and other ingredients that often aren't readily available in Hogsmeade or Knockturn Alley." Snape sipped at his tea, eyeing Harry critically. "There are other activities as well - games, rides..."

"Are we leaving now?" Harry asked, excited. 

Snape nodded, Harry grinned. He quickly cleaned the kitchen while Snape went outside to the lab, returning with two vials. Their content looked as disgustingly glutinous as it had in Harry's second year, but there was something distinctly different about this batch.

Noticing Harry's odd look, Snape said, "I don't want us having to drink every hour on the hour, so this is a highly concentrated version I brewed. I warn you, it does taste as unpleasant as it looks."

"Yeah," Harry said, unable to suppress a shudder, "I know."

"Indeed?" A dark eyebrow crooked upward.

Harry shrugged guiltily. What was the point of denying things now?

"Well, er, in second year, we - Ron, Hermione and me - were trying to find out if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin, so we - Hermione, mostly - brewed up some Polyjuice Potion... and we - Ron and I - got, er, hairs from Crabbe and Goyle and went to the Slytherin common room..."

"I see." Snape didn't sound angry, which was a relief, but there was a strange tone to his voice. "And Miss Granger?"

Harry flushed deeply. "Oh, er, she wasn't able to go through with it," he said, eyes glued to his shuffling feet.

"Why not?"

Harry looked up. There was ill-concealed humor in Snape's eyes, just like the day in the hospital wing when Harry tripped and fell, telling Harry he knew exactly what had occurred.

"She thought she had a strand of Millicent Bulstrode's hair, but it was cat hair. That's why she missed so many days in January," Harry confessed with a tiny smile.

"Ah," Snape said, with a wry smirk. He then offered Harry one of the vials. "This contains the hair of a local Muggle man and boy."

"When were you able to get this?"

"A few weeks ago." When Harry looked puzzled, Snape, with lips pursed, said, "When we argued... about the inkwell."

Harry lowered his eyes at the memory. Banishing the unpleasant thought, he grimaced, then tipped the vial to his lips, gagging as its sludge-like contents slid down his throat.

Transformed, he became a tall, dark blond, hazel-eyed sixteen year-old. Looking down at himself, he observed the differences: his hands were much larger, square and rough; his feet properly filled out Dudley's cast-off trainers and his cast-off jeans as well. The only trouble was the shirt. One of the few Harry owned outright, it had ripped along the sides as his chest expanded.

"I have to go change me shirt," Harry said, in a soft baritone, quite unlike his own tenor, and tipped with a soft Cornish accent.

Snape nodded. After swallowing the contents of his vial, he had transformed into a farmer, still tall, but burly and square; a far cry from his normally lean physique. He had the same dark blond hair as Harry's, but it was neatly trimmed, contrasting Harry's shaggy locks, and long dark lashes framed china blue eyes.

"Bring a jacket," he called from the open front door, in an accent much thicker than Harry's. "The weather migh' turn b'fore we git back."

Harry couldn't help the smile that formed at his lips. How could something as ordinary as being reminded to bring a jacket make him feel as though he had just swallowed warm, honey sweetened tea?

He hurriedly grabbed an oversized shirt, and called back, "Okay," as he slipped it over his head. After snatching his jacket from inside his trunk and tossing his glasses on his bed, he dashed out to join Snape.

*WO

The festival's entrance was crowded with people being slowly admitted. Harry craned his neck, curious what an outdoor wizarding festival was like. Having never been to a Muggle festival, he had no point for comparison, though the Dursleys had attended a travelling fair every summer at Dudley's insistence.

Had it been his choice, Vernon would never have gone. Anyone having the misfortune to bring up the subject were obliged to listen to him rant about how the fairs were run by ‘no count Gypsies' and how he wasn't ‘fool enough' to give his hard earned money to ‘none of them common thieves.' Naturally, the family always returned from the outings - just before Harry had come back from Mrs. Figg's - with the car overflowing with stuffed animals and other useless trifles. Harry expected his uncle had bullied the vendors as he was fairly certain neither Dudley nor Vernon had the skill to hit a bull's eye, even if it had been pinned to their hands.

And of course Dudley had always made quite the spectacle of himself, slurping loudly on whatever tooth-destructive sweets his parents had got him, thus, Harry instantly knew his cousin would have loved this festival. From his newly enhanced vantage point, he observed that the number of tents seemed to stretch on for days, and judging from the delicious aromas wafting toward him, many of them served food. The amalgam of sweet and salty grew ever more pungent as he and Snape drew closer to the entrance.

Once inside, Harry gawked at the lively vision of the midway, teeming with families. Small children with cherubic faces already sticky and stained with some colorful confection, milled about, gaping wide-eyed at varied toys floating enticingly in the air. Gaudily attired riders atop charmed unicycles wove expertly in and out of the thick crowd while juggling balls, hoops, or disgruntled Cornish pixies. Farther down the midway, there was an enormous stage where actors were performing historical skits. The current performance was of a cackling Wendelin the Weird being torched repeatedly at the stake.

Taking in Harry's child-like reaction, Snape asked, "Have yeh ne'er bin ter a festival b'fore?"

Harry shook his head. "My cousin, Dudley, used to make his parents take him to a local fair every year, but I never went." His eyes were soon tracking a tiny toy Snitch that had been released along with toy Quidditch seekers zooming after it.

"Why didn' yeh want ter go?" Snape seemed not to be bothered at all by the rough accent, so unlike his own silky inflection.

Harry tore his gaze away from the Snitch to look at Snape. "I wasn' allowed to go."

"Every time they went, yeh were bein' punished?"

Leave it to Snape to assume the worst, thought Harry wryly.

"No, I hardly ever went on family outings. Me aunt and uncle were afraid I migh' blow something up."

"Yeh made a habit o' that? Blowin' things up?"

Harry sighed. Of all the times for Snape to be curious about his life with the Dursleys, the man chose this moment?

"It's a long story. Could we enjoy the festival?"

"Fine. We'll discuss this la'er," Snape said. But, Harry's attention was once again on the action surrounding them. "Don' wander off too far."

Harry nodded distractedly. "Okay."

"Yeh mayn't always see me, but I'll be close," Snape said, lightly touching Harry's shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.

"Yes sir," Harry said, fully attentive, a slight smile tugging at the side of his mouth. He watched Snape stride away before moving forward and getting lost in the crowd.

*WO

Harry was astounded watching the lengths vendors went to, hoping to entice a crowd of paying customers to their booth. A swarthy, compact wizard peddling a powder which he professed grew beards on anything that breathed, demonstrated its effects on his dog, a black toy Chihuahua. Harry laughed when the spritely canine sprouted a coal black beard which dragged across the grass as it tip-toed back and forth before the crowd, yipping happily at their laughter and applause.

Fred and George would have loved it; Uncle Vernon would have turned puce with horror. Not only was the vendor obviously a Gypsy and a wizard, but he was hawking something of questionable origin, inviting the suspicion that it was ‘probably some homemade nonsense, hardly worth a pence let alone a pound.'

Nearly half an hour later, after wandering past several more booths, Harry stopped. Snape was peering at him from a distance. Harry waved. The man nodded sharply, then continued walking. Though he would have normally despised someone keeping tabs on him, particularly Snape, Harry didn't mind it so much now. He felt perfectly safe in his disguise, yet, he admittedly felt even safer having seen Snape. As he strolled about, ruminating on the strangeness of that new feeling, he noticed a familiar head of hair.

"Hermione?"

The bushy haired girl whipped around, completely ignoring the tall blond standing before her. Curiously, she canvassed the area behind him, only looking up to meet his eyes when he again spoke her name.

"Hermione... It's Harry," he said, mouthing his name.

She frowned. "Har -"

He clapped a hand over her mouth.

"It's me," he hissed. Her eyes widened impossibly, then crinkled in confusion as she took in his face. Gingerly, she nodded her head, indicating it was okay to remove his hand. He did so, slowly, just in case.

Regarding him with deep suspicion, she said, "What did the Dursleys give you for Christmas second-year?"

Harry snorted ruefully at the memory and her suspicious nature. "A toothpick."

She then whipped around, hunting for something. Eventually, she grasped Harry's hand and dragged him next to an area where children were riding carpets enchanted to allow them to bump into one another. The entire space beneath the floating rectangles consisted of fluffy white pillows for the riders to fall on if knocked from their carpet. With a smile, Harry realized it was a wizarding version of dodgem cars; he'd seen the actual thing on an episode of Jonny Briggs.

Catching Harry off guard, Hermione grabbed him, and like a vice, embraced him tightly. The gleeful squeals of the children drowned out his grunt of surprise. Luckily she let him go as quickly as she had pounced on him.

"What are you doing here?" she squeaked. "More importantly, why are you here looking like... that?" Her eyes roamed his body in disbelief. "And why have you never answered any of my letters? Or Ron's? I've been - we've been so worried about you! How could you worry us like that? I mean, honestly, what is going on with you?" she demanded, hands on her hips, questions coming faster than Umbridge's Educational Decrees.

"It's a long story," he said, with a grin. "It would take more time than we have to explain ev'rything."

"You can at least tell me why you're here!"

"I'm on holiday, jus' like you..."

"At least I look like me, and sound like me," she retorted. "Why the disguise, and how did you get hold of Polyjuice Potion?" she whispered, again suspicious.

"Think about it," he said, giving her a pointed look. Ever clever, it took her only seconds to understand.

"You got it from Sn -" Again, Harry clapped a hand to her mouth. "Sorry, sorry..." she said, batting his hand away, noting his furious look. "You can't be serious!" she gasped. "Why?"

"Like I said... long story."

"How did you...? What are you...? Where is he?"

"Wandering around the festival somewhere."

"He's here with you?" Harry nodded. "Snape?" She mouthed the name. When Harry nodded again, her eyes bugged out of her head. Harry almost laughed. "Goodness, Har - er, what should I call you?"

Harry blinked, flummoxed. He and Snape hadn't discussed names. He never dreamed he would run into someone he knew, so he blurted out the first thing to come to mind.

"James."

Hermione grinned and he shrugged, a half-smile playing at his lips.

"Okay... James," she said, tugging his hand to lead him back out onto the midway. "We need someplace quiet, so we can talk."

"Where're your parents?" Harry said, hoping to distract her. He wasn't ready to give details about his summer, yet.

"Oh, they're..." She stood on her toes to crane her neck and scan the crowd. Squinting, she pointed. "There!" she said.

Harry followed her finger to spot a familiar couple standing arm in arm, gazing at one another dazedly, as though there was no else around.

Harry snickered. "They look like they're on a date."

"They sort of are. They're calling this trip their second honeymoon," Hermione said, smiling fondly. "They came here for their first one and my dad's family is from the area."

"Yeah?" said Harry, gazing at her, noting how truly happy she looked. He would never have guessed that she was newly recovered from her experience at the Ministry. She was pleasantly tanned, her tawny skin glowing wonderfully beneath the midday sun, highlighting the dark spattering of freckles framing her nose. He stared at them, captivated.

"Yeah," she said, breaking the spell. "Come on... let's go say ‘hi!'"

Harry grabbed her hand and hauled her back. "I don't want to interrupt their... thing," he said, blushing. "Plus, it might not be a good idea, since they... you know, kind of know me."

"Don't be silly," she said, with a snort. "You don't even look or sound like you, remember?" She then looked him over in such an appreciative manner, Harry felt his face warming. He cleared his throat and she jumped.

"Oh... right, sorry..." She shook her head, then dragged him toward her laughing parents. "What's so funny?" She smiled, responding to their good humor as she and Harry joined them.

"Oh, hi darling," her mum said.  "Are you having a good time?"

"Brilliant," beamed Hermione. "You remember Har - er, James?" Her parents looked at him quizzically.

"No, dear, I don't think we've met... James," said her dad.

"Oh, well, this is James, a friend from school," she said. "These are my parents, Monroe and Thérèse Granger."

"It's nice to meet you, James," said Mrs. Granger.

"Likewise," said Harry, feeling like a right fraud because he'd met them before. As he was shaking hands with Hermione's dad, he spotted Snape. Before he realized what he was doing, he waved the man over. Snape's eyes widened; he started to shake his head, but stopped when Hermione turned to see who Harry was waving at.

She whipped back around to Harry. "Is that him?"

"Yeah," Harry said. Snape strode over and Harry could tell he was forcing his face into a neutral expression. Hermione grinned broadly as he approached, bouncing on her toes. Harry rolled his eyes at her behavior.

"Hi Prof - er, sir," Hermione stammered.

"Miss." Snape nodded politely.

"James just met my parents," she said, eagerly embracing the name and charade.

"Indeed?" said Snape.

If Harry had thought Snape's demeanor rigid before, it became positively wooden at the utterance of that name. He couldn't feel too bad about it though - it was his father's name after all.

"Yeah, this is, um, my friend, Hermione, from school and these are her parents," Harry muttered, gesturing awkwardly between them.

Snape smoothly introduced himself as Edmund Brockman, extending his square workman's hand to shake theirs. Harry noted that while Snape physically looked like a farmer, his movements and tone bore all the natural, self-possessed grace of Severus Snape, Hogwarts' Potions Master. It was a peculiar sight for Harry, who was only just managing to stifle a grin.

"Mr. Brockman," Hermione piped up. "James and I were just about to explore the festival a bit more."

Snape hitched a blond eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged. After a moment, Snape nodded and Harry let out a relieved breath.

"Thanks," he said.

"Mr. Brockman, would you and your son like to join us for an early dinner?" Mrs. Granger asked.

Harry choked, coughing into his fist; Hermione squeaked and clapped her hands to her mouth to prevent anything escaping, while Snape looked as though he had been Obliviated - repeatedly. Hermione's parents looked at the trio, confused.

"What is it now?" Mr. Granger asked Hermione, who shook her head.

"N-nothing, Dad," she said, thoroughly unconvincing as her wide eyes shifted anxiously between Snape and Harry.

Recovering quickly, Snape cleared his throat and said, "We'd... be delighted, thank yeh."

"Wonderful!" said Mrs. Granger, clapping her hands happily. "We'll meet here at, oh, four o'clock?"

With everyone in agreement, they parted ways. The Grangers continued their stroll along the midway, arm in arm, while Snape went off in search of rare herbs vendors, or the like. Harry and Hermione took off in the opposite direction, but he glanced back at Snape and found the man doing the same, a look of puzzled wonderment on his face. Harry quickly turned back around; he was feeling similarly.

"Whew!" he sighed. "That was bollocks, wasn't it?!"

"I thought it was brilliant!" Hermione said, clutching his arm excitedly. "How are you two getting on?"

"We-we're... Fine."

"Fine?" She looked at him, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Come on..."

Harry shrugged. "It's weird, is all. I mean, it's not like we bin best mates these pas' five years, have we? There's a lot to get pas'," Harry said, a touch defensive.

Hermione's brown eyes were wide with curiosity. "But you're doing it? You're getting on fairly well, aren't you?"

Harry thought of how last night had ended and the morning began.

"Yeah, pretty well," he said, blushing.

"Pretty well? I'd say things were going great. Considering that he managed not to hex me - or you - when I called you ‘James'... I actually think it's wonderful!" Hermione grinned, tugging on his arm. "I mean, after what happened at the Ministry..." She trailed off at Harry's pained expression, then screwed her eyes closed, clapping a palm to her forehead. "I'm sorry... I put my foot in it, didn't I?"

"No, you're right," Harry said. "It was horrible and this summer has bin... difficult, too."

"Well, come on then," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go find somewhere to talk..."

"Hermione..."

"I want to know what's been going on."

Judging the stubborn look on her face, Harry knew she wouldn't take ‘no' for an answer and would squeeze every detail out him that she could. Shortly, they found a secluded spot beneath a tree off behind one of the tents, away from prying ears. 

*WO

"So," said Hermione, once they got settled on the grass, "from the beginning, Snape."

In the midst of relating his vision, she held her hand out to interrupt him.

"My God, Harry! You Apparated Snape to Hogsmeade? That's what the crack was, wasn't it?" Hermione said, wanting to get an answer right, even though they weren't in class.

"Yes," Harry said.

"From where?"

Harry stared blankly then shrugged, embarrassed by her awestruck expression. "Some forest... Dunno."

Hermione laughed disbelievingly at Harry's understated response then motioned for him to resume his story. Describing the Order's arrival and his rescue garnered wide-eyed ‘ooh's' and ‘ahh's.' She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror as he explained what Dumbledore had said happened to the Dursleys and how it eerily mirrored Snape's ordeal.

Harry blushed furiously when her eyes glittered brightly with tears as he recounted his time looking after Snape, and of helping Galen when Snape finally awoke. When he told her of Snape's clot and how dreadful an experience it was, she gasped and clutched his arm.

"Oh, Harry, he could have died! Those clots are created by the darkest magic! Designed to cause a slow death, killing off the internal organs, rotting a person from the inside..." She trailed off as Harry grew pale.

"Galen never explained what it did, just that it made it difficult to treat him. Those bastards..." he said, his voice hoarse with anger and disgust. Hermione scooted closer to him, taking his hand in hers.

"But, he's okay now," she said soothingly. "Madam Pomfrey and the healer saw to that..."

"I know, but it was just - just horrible to watch. I don't know how he survived it! I really don't." His admiration of the man could not have been plainer in his tone.

"Some summer, huh?" said Hermione, but Harry missed the curious grin on her face.

Peering through a gap beside the tent that shielded them, he observed a small boy, frantically looking about, obviously lost. Harry couldn't hear him, but his little features were screwed up in distress as he searched for a familiar face. Seconds later, a tall dark-haired man scooped the boy up, holding him tightly to his chest. The little boy's arms flew around the man's neck and Harry heard the child's giggle clearly, as though it had been carried over on a breeze.

"Yeah, some summer," he replied, then gasped, jumping to his feet.

"What?" Hermione turned to follow his gaze.

"Snape!"

"I see him... so?" Snape was standing near the father and son, twisting his head to and fro.

"He's looking for me! We gotta go!" He reached down to pull Hermione to her feet.

"What? Why?"

"He checks on me." Harry said. "If he doesn't see me... he'll worry."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her tone soft.

"What?" He turned to find her smiling gently at him.

"Nothing... Look, he's leaving!"

They sprinted onto the midway just as Snape turned back in their direction. When he spotted the two teens, the lines of worry in his gently weathered face smoothed out a bit.

"Sorry," Harry said, looking abashed as they approached the man.

"Where ‘ave yeh bin?" he asked, his gruff tone belying his obvious relief.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault," said Hermione, in a rush to explain. "I wanted him to fill me in on his summer and we needed someplace private - we were just behind the tent there," she said, pointing. "I'm sorry to have worried you, sir."

Snape then looked Harry over so thoroughly, the boy began to fidget. Once he was satisfied Harry was unharmed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small seashell covered in white and tan spirals. He tapped it with his finger and muttered, "Connectere." The shell glowed red momentarily before he handed it to Harry.

"Touch this ev'ry twenty minutes. It's connected ter the one I ‘ave in me pocket. I'll see yeh at dinner."

Speechless, Harry watched the man stride away until he rounded a corner, out of sight. He swallowed and contemplated the non-descript shell in his palm before firmly wrapping his fingers around it.

*WO

Two hours later, two laughing couples and a stern faced man met at a booth. It was an Indian take away joint out front, but it's magically extended inside was a traditional full-service restaurant. The group of five settled on richly colored cushions around their table and placed their orders with the chatty server. Unfamiliar with Indian food, Harry allowed Hermione to do the honors for him.

Hermione's parents and Snape chatted fluidly, while Hermione and Harry - his eyes darting curiously between the three adults - continued to catch up on their summers. After her parents had deemed her well enough to venture outside the house, Hermione had talked them into letting her take a Mythology class at a local university.

"How's it going?" Harry asked, impressed, yet unsurprised.

"Oh, it's terribly interesting. I'm learning..."

Harry listened attentively as she described her class and what she was learning about not only Greek mythology, but British mythology as well.

Consuming the meal was a leisurely affair. The conversation ranged from ‘Edmund's' work, to the Grangers' dental practice, and what ‘James' and Hermione were most looking forward to in their sixth-year. Eventually, Harry leaned back, rubbing his stomach, a slight frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, concerned. "Did you eat something bad?"

"No!" he groaned. "These past few weeks, I bin eatin' like Ron." Hermione laughed and poked at his stomach clearly protruding from beneath his shirt. Weakly, Harry elbowed her hand away from him, grinning lazily.

"Yeh bin ill, yeh needed to gain yer strength back," Snape said.

Harry could not fail to notice the shocked look Hermione was firing at him, silently demanding the details of his illness, but his eyes were glued to Snape, who was now listening to Hermione's mother.

"Our Hermione was ill earlier this summer," said Mrs. Granger, reaching to quickly grasp Snape's hand in parental commiseration. The man stiffened at her touch, but listened intently as she quietly went on to describe the events at the Ministry and her daughter's subsequent recovery. 

Harry winced at the mention of that night, but relaxed when Hermione clasped his hand beneath the table, squeezing it supportively. He had not forgotten that Sirius was not the only casualty that night. They had all of them been injured, but Hermione had nearly died after being cursed by a Death Eater who had taken great pleasure in the act. He squeezed her hand back in relief. Snape flicked his blue eyes in their direction, noting Harry's reaction.

"We've only just decided to let her return to Hogwarts," said Mr. Granger. "It's just so dangerous what with -"

Now it was Harry's turn to fire off his own shocked look at Hermione, who conveniently ignored him.

"Mum, Dad," she said, abruptly, "James and I are going outside for some air."

"All right, dear," Mrs. Granger said, blinking at her daughter's behavior.

To Harry's relief Mr. Granger said, "Perhaps we should all go," as he pulled out his wallet.

Harry knew that once Hermione had him outside, she would grill him about his time in the hospital wing, and he didn't want to talk about it. He had truly enjoyed the day and did not want it to end on a sour note.

"No. Le'me git it," Snape said, picking up the check so quickly, it looked like sleight of hand. As he went to the cashier, everyone else rose and exited, thanking the host as they emerged onto the crowded midway. Hermione then spun on her heel to rush back inside the restaurant, claiming she had forgotten something.

"James," said Mrs. Granger, moving to stand close to Harry, "your dad is a very nice man."

"Oh, er, thanks," Harry managed, instantly wondering what was taking Snape and Hermione so long.

Then Mrs. Granger smiled at him. Harry noticed that it was Hermione's smile; Hermione's lips quirked the exact way her mother's did.

"I pray I'm not embarrassing you, but he seems so very proud of you," she said, giving his hand a light squeeze.

Harry blinked. ‘Proud of' was not a phrase he would have ever imagined Snape feeling about him, so he silently commended the man's spot on role-playing.

"He said you've both experienced some losses this summer, but that you were managing tremendously well."

For Harry, that Snape would mention anything about what they had both endured since June, and to a relative stranger, was even more mindboggling than Snape being proud of him.

"Oh? Er..."

"It's always heartening to see a loving family," Mrs. Granger continued. "You two seem to have a lovely relationship."

Harry shuffled nervously, but was saved the awkwardness of responding when Hermione and Snape finally joined them.

"Do you have everything now, dear?" asked Mr. Granger.

"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said, shivering.

"Okay?" Harry asked. Dusk was falling, and the evening was cooling off quickly.

"I'm fine, just a little chilly," Hermione said, looking at him as if for the first time that day. Though the packaging looked nothing like her friend, the concern in those hazel eyes was unmistakably Harry Potter.

"What?" Harry asked, smiling at her confounded expression.

"It's... nothing," she breathed, shaking her head, strangely unable to hold his gaze any longer.

"Here," Harry said, taking off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"No H - James, I'm fine," Hermione said, trying to shrug it off and hand it back to him.

"Keep it," he said, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets.

"I'll give it back once school starts," she promised, smiling. Harry returned her smile and shrugged unconcernedly.

"We shou' be goin'," Snape said. "Pleasure meetin' yeh." He shook the Grangers' hands once more, ending with Hermione. "Miss Granger."

"P - Mr. Brockman," she said, flushing with pleasure. Harry snorted and Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Harry groaned.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger gasped, appalled.

"Oh Mum, he's exaggerating!"

Harry winced and grabbed his shoulder dramatically, so she punched him again. Then they burst into raucous laughter. When Hermione snorted, Harry doubled over, holding his stomach. The adults looked on in wary acceptance, chalking up their behavior to teenage queerness.

As their laughter quieted down, Harry straightened up. He grunted loudly when Hermione once again threw herself at him, just managing to keep his footing to hug her back.

Standing on her toes, she whispered, "See you in September, Harry."

"Count on it," he replied, shivering at her breath on his ear.

"Hermione, love..." It was her dad.

Harry released her, but their hands were still linked as she moved toward her parents. When her hand finally slipped free from his, Harry watched them leave; Hermione bundled securely between her parents, each with an arm around her shoulders. She cast one last glance back, waving happily. Harry waved back, swallowing at the lump in his throat. He started at Snape's whispered command.

"Le's go, Potter."

Harry sighed. All day Snape had managed to avoid referring to him as ‘James', but Harry would have preferred being nameless to being called ‘Potter.' Though it held none of the hate-filled resonance Snape had reserved for Harry in the past, it had an incredibly impersonal resonance about it now.

At the hang-dog look on Harry's face, Snape asked, "Wha'?"

Knowing it would not be wise to get into a discussion about his name while they were surrounded by so many people, Harry shook his head and said, "It's nothin'."

Before exiting the festival, they passed a booth where Harry saw a witch selling Jabberwocky Bones. According to Hagrid, Fang loved them.

"Sir?"

"Mmm?"

"D' you think I could get some Jabberwocky Bones for Fang?"

Snape hitched an eyebrow, then reached into his jacket pocket. Harry stopped him, flabbergasted.

"Ah, sir, I have a bit o' money lef' over from the end of las' term," he said.

"As yeh wish," said Snape. Harry hadn't thought anything of it when Snape had paid for dinner, but he was taken aback and touched by Snape even considering giving him money. Grinning from ear to ear, he went to purchase the bones.

"Ready, sir," Harry said as he returned to man's side, clutching the package to his chest.

They continued to the Apparition point which was populated by families in various states of chaos preparing to Apparate. A giggling, four-year old boy was running in circles trying to escape his dad - the same boy, Harry realized, that he had seen earlier, wandering lost on the midway. Eventually, the man caught his son and hoisted him into the air, making the boy squeal with delight. They smiled at Harry when they caught him looking at them. Harry smiled back, returning the boy's excited wave, then Snape prompted him to take hold of his arm.