Golden sunlight reflected off the surface of the lake, warm on Harry's face. The black marble was also warmed by the sunlight. It was very comfortable to lean his back against the warmth as he sat on the green grass. In his lap, a cloak wrapped around him securely, a little blond boy breathed lightly in his sleep. Dozily, Harry wondered if it was worth the effort to call on Kreacher to bring him a butterbeer.

Ginny, James, Lily and Al were playing a game of two-a-side Quidditch, in the clear spot on the edge of the lake. They were keeping closer to the ground than they usually did, probably because Ginny knew that he was watching. Kindly avoiding giving Harry (with his new lung) heart failure.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. He felt a shadow fall across him, "Don't wake him." Harry said softly to whoever, "He needs the sleep."

"Given the amount of sleeping draft the healers have spelled into both of you, I doubt a nuclear blast would wake either." replied a voice sarcastically.

Harry opened his eyes. Severus Snape's unmistakable sillouette occluded the light. "May I join you?" the man asked with remarkable civility.

"Uh, I suppose," Harry squinted up at him.

"This is rather idyllic." Snape remarked, sitting on the ground next to Harry, careful to not disturb the sleeping child. Like the last time Harry had seen him, this was a younger version of Snape than Harry had ever met in life. The hooked nose and black hair were the same, but the face less sallow, healthier, less lined and careworn.

"If I'm dead, don't mention it to me for a couple thousand years, right?" Harry remarked lazily, he assumed he was sleeping if Snape was here, but it could be that he had died.

"Is this Heaven to you then, Potter?" asked Snape, seriously.

Harry turned his head. As he had in other encounters, he examined the Potion Master's face for mockery. Finding none, he replied, "Probably." he said slowly, considering, "I wouldn't mind finding my parents here, if that were the case."

Snape shrugged. He looked very comfortable as he sat with arms resting on bent knees, hands clasped in front of him, in his usual robes of black. With his habitual white shirt that he wore under his robe, he looked a bit like someone mourning their wife. The effect was subtle, a shirt collar was not the same as a white cravat, but it was similiar to what a widowed wizard might wear in the years after his spouses death if he'd never married. Harry wondered if it was Snape's way of continuing to mourn Lily.

The tall wizard pointed his chin towards the little Quidditch game, "There are James Potter and Lily Evans. Right there."

Harry smiled, "Yeah. And Fred. Molly says that, too. She says that she can see her brothers or her parents, in the children sometimes, as well. And Teddy's the dead spit of Remus, some days."

"Indeed." Snape replied with his mouth quirking up.

"What do you want?" asked Harry, after they'd sat in the sun for a long time, "Unless, it's just to enjoy the day I've dreamed up." The boy in Harry's lap moved a little in his sleep. Harry rubbed the boy's shoulder and he sighed, drifting more deeply asleep.

It was very difficult to be worried about anything at the moment.

"It is a lovely day." agreed Snape.

"What the hell are the healers giving me that I'm dreaming about discussing the weather with you?" asked Harry, idly, not really sure if he wanted an answer.

Snape smirked, "Sleeping draft with something for anxiety, given how relaxed you are. They can't keep giving you Dreamless Sleep, but I'm sure the healers don't want you injuring that new lung tissue with reacting to nightmares."

That made sense. Probably the healer had explained all of this to him.

"How are you feeling?" asked Snape solicitously.

"They appear to be keeping me very comfortable if you're asking me that." Harry quipped, "I supposed you'll turn into a Cheshire cat any second."

"In your state, it would be a hookah-smoking-caterpillar." snorted the man.

"Did you just make a joke?" asked Harry, "I'll have to ask them to decrease the dosage."

Snape looked at him a bit sourly. That was better.

The child with his head in Harry's lap shifted a little restlessly, again, before opening his eyes, "Hello." he whispered, rubbing one of them with his hand.

"Hello." replied Harry, smiling down at him, "Have a good sleep?"

Tim nodded, yawned, sat up.

Snape stared at the child with the oddest expression on his face.

The child looked back at the professor with an expression that seemed to precisely mirror the man's, "Hello," he said.

To Harry's surprise, Snape smiled at the boy, curiously gentle, "Hello, little one. How are you feeling?"

The dream Tim showed none of the reticence the real Tim showed around men he didn't know. Rather he looked delighted to be in the presence of the man who was known to make even third years cry. He touched Snape's hand as if to reassure himself. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yes." Snape replied, in a kinder voice than any Harry had ever heard him use.

"So, am I dreaming you or are you dreaming me?" Harry asked Dream-Tim, amused.

Snape turned his gaze back to Harry's face. It was he who answered, "Perhaps a little of both." he said seriously.

"Do you know him, Mr. Potter?" asked Tim, "I thought he was just mine."

"I am yours, child. I just wanted a word with Mr. Potter." Snape's baritone was soft, "You should go back to sleep. It's very late."

"But, it's afternoon." replied the boy, looking around.

"Only in Mr. Potter's mind."

"Oh." replied Tim, as though the conversation made sense..

"Come here, child." Snape held out his arms.

Tim held out his own arms and was curled up on the man's shoulder before Harry could stop him, Tim's blonde hair mingling with Snape's black

Definitely, Harry needed to talk to the healers about reducing the dosage of whatever they were giving him.

"You used the killing curse, Mr. Potter." said Snape flatly, now that he had the sleeping Tim nestled firmly against him.

Harry looked away, "Yeah. Surprised that you're not Smith coming to haunt me. Although, I suppose that's why they're worried about me having nightmares."

"Mm." agreed Snape, "Curious that you never used that against the Dark Lord."

"I was seventeen. There are loads of things I couldn't imagine myself doing at seventeen that I find myself quite capable of doing now. I suppose everyone's like that." replied Harry. Although the sleeping draft prevented him from getting too upset, he felt a distant ache.

"Some of us are quite the opposite." Snape stroked the head of the child, "I suppose it's the old adage about one only being able to understand one's life in hindsight."

There was a little silence between them. Harry watched Ginny and the children play their game some more.

"Have you spoken to Molly about it?" Snape said suddenly, "I imagine she might have something to say. Perhaps, her grief after the War had as much to do with the blood on her hands as it did with her son."

"I'd thought about it."

"I notice Miss Roslyn was very helpful to you." Snape observed, "She was one of my favorite students, you know, when I was her head of house. Intelligent. Patient. Skilled at potions. The only muggle-born sorted into Slytherin that year. She was determined that she would be the best witch in her year. She was very quiet about it though. She didn't have Miss Granger's irritating habit of flaunting her intelligence and seeking approval from all and sundry."

Harry nodded, "Roz is really good. She does the politics thing really well, too. I didn't know she'd been a Slytherin until I started working on your journals." Harry smiled wryly, "She told how much help you'd given her in learning how to navigate Wizard society. She said that she never, ever believed you betrayed Dumbledore, you know. She couldn't reconcile the idea of you killing the headmaster, so she assumed there was something wrong with the information they were getting. She said it was one of the things that made her think she needed to flee the country." Fleeing when Dumbledore had been killed had been the main reason Roz hadn't wound up in Azkaban, like so many of her fellow Aurors who had the bad fortune to be muggle-born.

"I am glad that there are some few who remember me fondly." another long silence.

"Ernie McMillon is getting your potion patented. Under your name. He's already got an article for publication in 'The Cauldron'. Someone in America wants to replicate the studies for their use. It's commonly being called the Snape potion." Harry reached over to rub the blond boy's back. "I have to tell you, thank you. He's so much better."

Snape huffed to himself, "Do not let them call it the 'Snape potion.' That's just embarassing. It's proper name is 'Tears' " I am very glad the child is better, but make no mistake, he will still have a long road ahead of him to really heal." Then abruptly. "Do you love the boy, Potter?"

Harry turned to say something harsh or sarcastic to the man, irritated that Snape was questioning him like this.

The man's expression stopped him. He looked only a very little older than James. Barely old enough to have left school, if that. He looked like the Snape who, in memory, had begged for Lily Evan's forgiveness. He looked like the man who, only a few years later, had begged Dumbledore to protect Lily Potter and had vowed to give anything Dumbledore wanted in return.

The curious thing was that the boy had woken and was now staring at Harry, with the exact same expression of hope, desperation and fear.

"Yes." Harry said firmly, "I'm not sure what it will take for you believe me."

Snape relaxed, sighed, "Just time, I suppose."

Tim appeared to go back to sleep.

"So, tell me, Professor," Harry asked, "What's your idea of Heaven?" He was honestly curious.

The corner of Snape's mouth quirked up, "Oddly enough, it's not dissimilar to this."

That was interesting.

"Do you like wherever-you-are now?" asked Harry, forgetting that the man was merely in his head.

Snape gave Harry a long, measuring look, "I think I do."

Suddenly, the taller man moved awkwardly, getting his feet under him to stand with the child in his arms. Harry scrambled up too,

"Where are you going?" Harry said, sharply.

Snape smiled at Harry, as he'd smiled at Tim earlier.  The expression reaching his dark eyes, warming and softening them, "Won't let the child out of your sight, even in your dreams?"

"No. If it's all the same to you." Harry replied, stiffly. He gently took the sleeping boy back from Snape.