Harry had spent the week after returning from Liverpool with Snape helping the professors, who had all come back to Hogwarts to get ready for the term, set up their classrooms and prepare supplies. His favorite times had been the afternoons spent with Hagrid and the new creatures he'd rounded up for his classes this year, including, of course, the fire lizards. But Hagrid also had eighteen owlets that the first and second years would be raising. The owls would eventually go to Eeylops Owlery in Diagon Alley to be trained as post owls, but not until they reached full maturity. Now they were tiny hatchlings, balls of feathers and fluff in brown, grey and white in every conceivable combination. Hagrid fed the eager little things by sticking tiny pieces of fresh meat on the end of a stick. The trick was to make sure that each owlet was fed during each feeding and with the way they attacked the food and swarmed wherever the stick went, this was easier said than done.

After feeding the owlets, Harry would gather the pieces of dry skin in the fire lizard enclosure for Snape and Slughorn—Snape had not given up his quarters in the dungeon even though he'd no longer be teaching Potions and still did quite a bit of brewing in his spare time. He kept a big jar of Snape's burn cream at Hagrid's to use after the fire lizard skin collecting—he'd learned that Snape always checked first for burns and blisters and that there'd be less time for chess or late-evening discussions on the meaning of song lyrics if he had to spend time treating his burns.

Every night during that week between Liverpool and the start of term, he snuck down to Snape's quarters at 9 p.m., under his invisibility cloak, always sending Dobby down first to make sure Snape was alone. He understood that their newfound "truce" shouldn't even be made known to all the teachers at Hogwarts, so he respected that during the day, avoiding Snape, trying not to look at him during meals they shared, looking at the floor with a muttered "Excuse me, Sir," if they happened to pass in the corridor.

Once, while passing Snape in front of the hospital wing after he stacked teacups (to be transfigured later by fourth years into cordial glasses) for Professor McGonagall for an hour, nearly making him miss lunch, his stomach growled loudly.

"Potter!" exclaimed Snape.

Harry jumped, startled. "Yes sir?" he asked, gritting his teeth and looking over Snape's shoulder where Professor Slughorn and Professor Vector has stopped in their tracks and were looking back at him.

"What is that thing on your lip?" growled Snape. Harry looked at the floor. Snape was playing dirty now. He'd just been teasing Harry the night before, over another game of chess that Harry had handily lost, about the sparse hair growing on his lip. He composed his face into as neutral an expression as possible.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he replied. "Is it dirty? I must have gotten some ink on it when I was helping Professor McGonagall."

"It's not ink, Potter!" groused Snape. "Are you not aware of the Hogwarts dress code? No facial hair! Get up to your dormitory and shave that off now!"

"But what about Millicent Bulstrode?" he exclaimed. "She has a moustache and you don't make her shave it off!"

"Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor. Now get to your dorm and get that thing off your lip!"

"But it's summer!" exclaimed Harry. "You can't take points. The hourglasses aren't even counting yet."

By now, Madam Pomfrey had come out into the hall to see what the ruckus was and both Slughorn and Vector had drifted in closer.

"Detention!" exclaimed Snape. His face was twisted into a very Snapish sneer.

"You can't do that either!" shouted Harry. "Classes haven't even started. He whirled around to look at the other professors. "Isn't that right, Madam Pomfrey? Can I get points off and detention when it's still summer holiday?"

"Now, Severus," cajoled Madam Pomfrey, turning to her colleague. "Mr. Potter is rather late in getting facial hair. He probably wasn't even aware of the Hogwarts policy regarding it. Perhaps you could let me take care of it? I can teach him a handy shaving charm while he helps me get the bedpans ready for term."

Wow! Not that was sneaky! Snape and Pomfrey tag-teaming against him! He'd given Snape the most hateful look he could muster before stomping into the infirmary after Madam Pomfrey, closing the door loudly behind him. She'd already disappeared into her office and he followed her there.

"Not fair!" he said. "It's bad enough having to keep a straight face when HE does that without you having to gang up on me with him!"

Madam Pomfrey just smiled. "Be glad the bedpans haven't been used for several months, then, Harry," she said. "Now wait a few minutes for the hall to clear and get on down to the Great Hall for lunch. I can hear your stomach rumbling from over here."

But it was Snape, not Madam Pomfrey, who taught him the shaving charm that night. They'd sat together in Snape's cozy sitting room, looking at a great anthology on the Beatles that Snape had purchased in Liverpool.

"Do you like them shaggy or clean-cut?" asked Harry, staring at a page that juxtaposed two photos, one from the early '60s and one from 1969.

"Shaggy, like you," Snape commented dryly. He stood up and beckoned to Harry. "Come with me."

Harry followed him down the short hallway to the door on the left. The bathroom must have had a wizard space charm on it, like the tents they'd used at the Quidditch World Cup. Snape ignored the obvious elephant in the room—the humongous sunken tub that was about the size of the Gryffindor Common Room—and stood in front of the mirror over the long vanity. He leaned in to examine the stubble on his chin then, apparently finding it satisfactory, pulled out his wand.

"My father was a Muggle so my mother taught me this charm," he said without other introduction. Harry was used to the way Snape started conversations without preamble, expecting him to catch up quickly. "I will spare you the indignity of Madam Pomfrey having to teach you. Watch closely."

"Cutis Sedis," he said as he moved the tip of his wand across his upper lip, not quite touching it. The hair on his lip vanished. He repeated the spell on his cheeks and chin, then turned to Harry.

"Try it. The incantation is 'Cutis Sedis,'—if done properly, it will remove the hair and smooth your skin as well."

Harry stopped staring at Snape, half bewildered, half overwhelmed, and turned to face the mirror. Like Snape had done, he leaned in to examine the growth of hair on his face. His moustache resembled not much more than an ink smudge, though it was definitely coming in as dark as his hair. There were a few straggly hairs on his chin and a very fine line on the edge of his jawbone. He straightened and took out his wand, catching Snape's eyes in the mirror as he started to lift it to his lip.

"What was that incantation again?" he asked. "I wouldn't want to mess this up and remove my lip or anything." The real problem, of course, was that his hands were shaking too hard to hold his wand steady. He wasn't supposed to have moments like this, least of all with Snape. He'd learned to ride a bike on his own when he was seven, salvaging one of Dudley's cast-offs and pushing it over to Wisteria Drive so the Dursleys didn't see him scraping up his knees and ruining Dudley's good cast-off jeans. He'd played football in the school yard, surprisingly agile and quick on his feet, but the older boys had been the ones to teach him. Madam Hooch had taught him to ride a broom and the Weasleys had taken him to his first professional Quidditch game. He should be learning to shave by himself, or picking it up from one of the other Gryffindor boys (Dean had been shaving since fourth year, after all). That's how his life went. That's how it worked. He didn't have moments like this, moments typically reserved for fathers and sons.

Snape, however, seemed to understand. Levity was needed. "Try not to make the spell too powerful," he said, his usual sarcasm as present as always. "The Slytherin dorm is rather close and the residual magic might affect Miss Bulstrode's facial hair when she arrives."

"Git," muttered Harry, smiling lopsidedly as he raised his wand and tried the charm for the first time. He rubbed his finger over his upper lip to test the result.

"Not bad for a beginner," he said. He looked down into the sink, noting the light stubble that dotted the white porcelain. It reminded him for a moment of Saturday mornings at the Dursleys when he'd had to clean Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bathroom. He'd hated cleaning the sink with Uncle Vernon's beard stubble in it. He shook the thought away, picturing instead Aunt Petunia shaving her chin and hiding the razor away so no one would suspect.

"Another game of chess?" asked Harry to Snape, still looking at him in the mirror. "I suspect I'll play better now that I've improved my rakish good looks."

"Prepare to lose, Mr. Depp," said Snape. He stood to the side so Harry could exit the bathroom first. As Harry walked past him, Snape reached out his hand and moved his thumb over Harry's upper lip. Harry froze at the gentle touch, wanting to run from it and lean into it at the same time.

"Not bad at all for a beginner," said Snape. "But then again, you're hardly a beginner when it comes to growing up."

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Everyone, literally everyone (even some bold first years who had likely never seen him in person before) commented on his glasses. He hadn't taken the Hogwarts Express back to Hogwarts, considering he was already at Hogwarts. But he had gone to Hogsmeade Station with Hagrid to meet the train and to ride back to the castle with his friends in the thestral-drawn carriages. All six of them had crammed into one carriage, Hermione sitting a bit reluctantly in Ron's lap while Ginny, Luna and Harry all crammed together in one seat and Neville settled in next to Ron.

The sorting had been quick, the first-years obediently lining up to meet their fate, and when the feast began, thirteen new Gryffindors sat at the house table, including a pair of twin boys with blonde hair that somehow reminded Harry of Fred and George. It would be quiet around Hogwarts without those two, he mused. They'd tramped up to Gryffindor Tower after the feast and Harry had given each of his Gryffindor friends the gifts he'd purchased in Liverpool.

He could hardly believe it had been a week since they'd returned. For nearly 48 hours last weekend, Snape and Harry had lived the Beatles. Snape had succumbed to nearly ever tour, promotion, restaurant, store and photo opp devoted to the Beatles in Liverpool. They'd stayed at the Hard Day's Night Hotel, and while they'd gone for the more modest "Luxury Room," Snape had done a surreptitious spell on the elevator controls to get them to the limited access floor with the Lennon and McCartney suites. A quick Alohomora had gotten them into the currently vacant Lennon Suite for a quick tour before they'd returned to their own room, laughing at their bravado.

Now, Harry pulled out the rolled up t-shirts he'd bought in Liverpool at the hotel's gift shop. Ron got the Yellow Submarine shirt while Ginny and Hermione received "All You Need is Love" shirts and Neville the classic Abbey Road tee. For Luna, he'd purchased an extremely bright tie-dyed shirt featuring the Magical Mystery Tour. He'd give it to her later when he had the chance.

"This is great, Harry," said Ron, pulling off his school robe and pulling his shirt over his head, right on top of his uniform shirt while the girls and Neville did the same. He looked disapprovingly at Ginny's rather tight shirt and more approvingly at Hermione's equally fitted one.

"Did you go on holiday this summer, Harry?" asked Neville. "These shirts are great! I didn't know you liked the Beatles."

"Everyone loves the Beatles," answered Harry.

"Did you get a shirt too, Harry?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah. I did." He opened his chest drawer and pulled out his own simple t-shirt. It was light blue with a simple line-drawing of John Lennon done in navy and a single word, Imagine, across the bottom. It stood out in its simplicity when compared with the other shirts. He tossed his robes on his bed, and pulled on the shirt just as the others had done.

Hermione stared at Harry a long time. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking like she was trying to keep from crying. "Perfect, Harry," she said at last. She enveloped him in a hug. For a moment he felt like the war was over and they had their whole lives ahead of them to live. It was easy…if he tried.

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one