Everything that Harry wanted was to rest. His biggest desire was to lay down in his bed, upstairs, in Gryffindor’s common room. But before doing that, there was something else he had to do. He could not sleep until then.

“I must go find him.” He said out loud, causing Ron and Hermione to look at him without understanding.

The three of them where in the middle of a hallway destroyed during the battle. They had moved the wounded and the bodies of the fallen, but Harry could still see the holes in the walls and the stains of blood. He tore his eyes from a particularly big stain and forced himself to look at his best friends.

“Harry?” Asked Hermione. “What…?”

“Snape. I have to go find him.” He repeated. “He can’t stay there, all alone.”

Hermione and Ron shared a look. The two of them were as exhausted as Harry, but they understood what he must have been feeling.

“Alright, I will inform Professor McGonagall and ask her to send somebody.” Said Hermione. “You go to sleep, it’s clear that you need it”.

“No! No, I can’t-”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Harry was quicker.

“You don’t understand. It has to be somebody that believes completely in his innocence. I can’t risk it!” He noticed that he had raised his voice and he forced himself to calm down. “There are a lot of people that still want revenge for Dumbledore’s death and… well, not everyone has believed me as fast as you guys. I cannot risk them cursing the body or doing something to it.”

“Okay, I understand.” Hermione put her hands up, trying to calm him down. “You are right.”

“I need to bring him back.” Insisted Harry. “He has to be at home.”

He said, and his voice broke.

His mind could not stop reminding him of all those people they had lost in the battle: Remus, Tonks, Fred, even poor Colin Creevey. But they rested beneath the starry sky of the Great Hall, surrounded by their families. Snape, instead, was alone in that horrible place and Harry needed to do something about it.

“We will go.” said Ron firmly. “You go get some rest, Harry. Hermione and I will bring him home.”

Ron wore the pain of Fred’s loss in each centimetre of his face, and Harry looked at him without knowing what to say.

“I can’t ask you that.” He said. “If anyone deserves to sleep it’s you.”

“Harry is right.” Said Hermione softly. She put a hand on Ron’s shoulder and squeezed, showing her affection. “Besides, if you don’t want to sleep, you should be with your family. I can take care of this on my own.”

Ron shook his head, maybe with too much energy.

“No, I don’t want to. I can’t right now.” He closed his eyes and tried to control himself. “I’m not strong enough to be there with them. I can’t handle looking at my mum’s face or see George with those empty eyes that he has and…”

Suddenly, he felt out of breath and started breathing fast and shakily. A heartbeat later, Harry and Hermione were there, hugging him both at the same time. Inside that safe place, Ron could finally let himself go and started crying silently. It took him a while to notice that they were crying too, and in a way, it made him feel better. If he wasn’t in that situation, he would probably remark how crazy they looked: three teenagers alone in the middle of a hallway, hugging and crying in silence.

They stayed like that for a few moments in which they said with the strength of their arms what they couldn’t say out loud until, finally, they let go. They all had tears on their faces, but they felt better than before.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Said Ron, breathing deeply. “And I know. I know that at some point I will have to face this. But… But I’m not there yet. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t… I don’t want to think about it.” He confessed, lowering his voice.

He averted their gaze, ashamed and scared that they would judge him, but Harry understood.

“I went through something similar with Sirius.” He told him. “If what you need right now is to keep busy, I get it. You are not a bad person for it.”

Ron swallowed and nodded slowly.

“So, do you trust me to bring Snape back?” He asked.

“Of course, I do, but…”

“But let me at least go with you.” Intervened Hermione, smiling gently at him.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” said Ron. “Really, I can handle it.”

“I know. And that’s not why I want to come.” She explained, calming him down. “The truth is that I don’t want to sleep either. But if you prefer that I don’t go, I will understand. Just say it and I will stay here.”

Hermione didn’t want to leave him alone, but she knew that it had to be his choice. That’s why she felt better when, after a few seconds, Ron nodded.

“If you want to, that is okay.”

“I want to.” She told him, closing the topic.

The look of affection that Ron was giving Hermione, told her that she did the right thing by coming with him. He shouldn’t be on his own during those moments.

“Go to sleep, Harry.” She added, turning towards him. “We will take care of it.”

Even though Harry knew that everything was going to be okay, he was nervous to be away from them after all that had happened. He was going to say something about it when a yawn interrupted his words. After that, he was sure that Hermione was going to do her best Mrs. Weasley imitation and send him to bed without the possibility to argue. So, aware that he had no other option, he nodded.

“Alright but take with you the D.A. coin.” It calmed him down to know that he could communicate with them in an instant.

“Don’t worry, I always have it on me.” Promised Hermione, pointing at her purse.

Then, softly, she gave him a pat in the arm.

“Really, try to get some rest, okay? We will see each other when you wake up.”

Harry nodded again and looked at Ron before walking up the stairs towards his room.

“We will be there.” He assured him.

And, with that, they finally parted ways.

---

“Everything is so quiet.” Hermione said, breaking the silence. “It’s weird.”

“It is. But I prefer it to the explosions and the screams.” Ron was aware of how depressing his words sounded, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah… That’s true.”

From that point, Hermione decided to not say anything else. She knew that Ron would need time to be the same as before, if he ever would be the same. But she was going to be there for him for as long as he needed, helping him heal.

“Look, there it is.”

The boy’s voice took her out of her thoughts.

Ron was pointing at the huge tree that guarded the entrance to the Shrieking Shack. The Whomping Willow didn’t look good: it had lost some branches fighting Death Eaters and its bark had burn marks and cuts.

“I’ll take care of this.” Said Hermione, taking her wand out. "Wingardium Leviosa".

In an instant, a branch flew from the ground to the point of the tree that could paralyze it. Hermione shook her wand and the branch touched it, freezing the Willow in its place.

“Okay, that’s it. Ready?”

Ron nodded and together they started descending through the tunnel. When they reached the end, a sombre and unpleasant scene greeted them. Snape, laying on his back, with a puddle of blood around his head.

The two teenagers became paralyzed when they saw it.

“Merlin…” Whispered Ron. “It’s worse than I remembered.”

“I guess we didn’t see it clearly when it happened.” Said Hermione, approaching slowly, with her eyes more open than normal. “We were in the middle of the battle. And with the adrenalin and everything…”

Ron nodded, distant, and then moved his eyes to any other place of the room that wasn’t Snape.

“It’s weird to see him like this.” Continued Hermione, without knowing exactly what to feel. “So many years and I had never seen him so vulnerable.”

Ron returned his gaze back to Snape’s body. Then he swallowed, studying his face.

“It makes you realize that he was only a man.” He said, finally.

There, laying in the darkness, pale and bloody, Snape looked more human than he had ever looked when he was alive.

“It’s weird, to know the truth about him.” Said Hermione, that until that moment hadn’t really had the time to think about it. “Bittersweet.”

“Yeah… You are right.” Ron shook his head. “Seeing him like this… It’s hard to think of him as the greasy and evil Potion’s Master.”

“I can’t believe that he was on our side this whole time …” Whispered Hermione, with shaky voice.

Ron couldn’t believe it either, his exhausted brain still wasn’t able to assimilate everything that had happened.

“Well...” Sighed Hermione. “Let’s get this over with.”

She cleared her throat, uttered some words, and waved her wand. In a moment, a white bed like the ones in the infirmary appeared.

“Go to his other side, Ron. I stay here and between the two of us we pull him up.”

“Alright.” He nodded and went to Snape’s left.

Suddenly, he noticed that his eyes were open, and he crouched down to close them. He rested on his knees and put a hand over the professor’s face. He had just closed his eyes when he felt something that made him gasp in surprise.

“What? What happened?” Hermione said, scared.

But Ron didn’t seem to be listening to her, his eyes went from Snape’s face to his own hand. He moved it again towards the dead man, slowly. This time, he positioned his hand under the hooked nose. He felt it again. It was there, a breeze of air. Snape was breathing.

Ron’s blue eyes met Hermione’s, who was looking at him with her mouth open. She also fell on her knees next to Snape, and took her fingers towards the professor’s neck, careful to not touch the wounded area. There, very weak but undeniable, she found the heartbeat that she was looking for.

“Ron.” She said slowly. “Ron, do you know what this means?”

The boy’s lips formed a smile for the first time in days, filled with incredulity.

“He is alive.” He whispered, without believing it fully.

He let go a shocked laugh and, suddenly, he was crying. The faces of Fred, of Remus, of Tonks, appeared in his mind and Ron couldn’t stop. He released everything he had been accumulating, all the fear, the desperation and the sadness disappeared with his sobs until the only thing that was left was hope.

“You are going to live.” He promised, helping Hermione put Snape on the bed. “You stupid greasy bat, you are going to live.”

They had lost a lot of people, but Ron wasn’t going to allow anybody else to die. At least, that was something that he could achieve.

“Come on, Snape, come on. Don’t you dare slip away.” He said, running through Hogwarts’ grounds with Hermione next to him and Snape floating in his bed. “We are almost home.”

---

Harry was about to fall asleep when something vibrated next to him. When he noticed that the thing making that noise was the D.A.’s coin, he immediately sat up and took it in his hands. His heart skipped a beat when he read the words written on it:

Harry, he is alive

He jumped out of bed and started running towards the infirmary, with the cold stone floor touching his naked feet.

His lungs were burning, and he was beginning to pant from the effort, but Harry kept running. So intent was he on reaching his destination that when he opened the door to the infirmary he almost ran into Hermione, who had come out to meet him.

“Harry. Harry, wait!”

“Where is he?”

“Hold on, take a breath for a second.”

“Where is he, Hermione?”

She put her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down.

“He's here. It's all right, Madam Pomfrey is taking care of him.”

“Where?”

“In the emergency area.” She said, pointing to the back of the infirmary. “But wait, Harry, you can't go in there.”

Hermione had to pick up her pace to get to him.

“Madam Pomfrey specifically told us not to disturb her until she's finished. He's in critical condition, okay? And whatever she's doing to save him needs her full attention. If you distract her, you could kill him.”

Those words stopped Harry, who looked at her in fear.

“What can we do?”

“Nothing, for the moment. But come on, Ron is in there.”

Harry followed her to the back of the room. They left the beds with the less serious patients behind them and, after passing through a door, they reached the emergency area. In the waiting room stood Ron, crestfallen and with signs of fatigue on his face. He looked up when he heard them enter and it was then that Harry saw the bloodstains on his friend's clothes.

“Ron, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit tired.” He said, forcing a smile. Then, he followed Harry's gaze down to his own shirt. “Oh, I hadn't noticed. Don't worry, it's not mine. It's Snape's.”

As he said that last sentence, the smile disappeared.

“Okay, that sounded really bad. I did not mean it like that.”

“Don't worry” Hermione said, sitting down next to him. “We got it.”

Harry followed her lead and took his place on the other side of Ron. A few seconds passed in silence, and Harry couldn't help but think that at any moment Madam Pomfrey was going to come out of the door and tell them that she was sorry, but that there was nothing else she could do. He remembered seeing similar scenes in the medical soap operas his aunt loved so much. They always ended with the patient's relatives crying, while sad music played in the background. Harry wondered who would be crying for Snape, if it came to that. Professor McGonagall, perhaps. Or maybe Draco Malfoy. And Harry himself? Even he didn't know. He'd lost so many people that he wasn't sure if he had any tears left to shed.

“Ron?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me what happened. How did you realize that he was alive?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. It was obvious that Harry was simply looking for a distraction, but the two friends decided to give him one. They told him all but the grimmest and most unpleasant details, such as how much blood was on the floor, how faint Snape's pulse sounded, and how long the journey felt from the Shrieking House to Hogwarts.

“...then Madam Pomfrey told us not to disturb her under any circumstances, and that's when Hermione alerted you. He hasn't been in there for more than twenty minutes.”

Harry, who had been listening intently, nodded. Silence fell over the room again, but it didn't last long.

“Harry, listen to me.” Ron said seriously. “If anyone can survive this, it's Snape. We all know what he's like, there isn't a more stubborn, obstinate person on earth. And if he thinks that by surviving, he can annoy us a bit more, he will.”

“Ron!”

Hermione gave him a shocked look, but Harry smiled and, in doing so, found it a little less difficult to breathe.

“You're right. It would be just like him.”

“Exactly. We just have to give him time. You'll see, he'll turn up with his bat cloak and his ‘ten points less for Gryffindor’ as soon as you least expect him to.”

Harry's grin widened, imagining the scene.

“Thank you, Ron.”

His friend gave him a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Don't worry,” he continued with a small smile, “it will be fine. My father was bitten by that bloody snake too, and he recovered, remember?”

Harry nodded more calmly, but a thought filled him with anxiety again.

“But Ron, your father started to be treated right after the attack and he still was in a very bad shape, how could Snape have survived for almost a whole day?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, not knowing the answer.

“I should have gone to look for him earlier. I should have checked to see if he was still alive before I left him lying there for hours on end.”

“Harry,” Hermione began, “it's not your fault. We had things to do, like defeating Voldemort, for example! Besides, we didn't even know he was on our side!”

“I did. I knew after I saw his memories. I knew, and instead of going after him or telling anyone, I went straight for Voldemort. If I had died... If had died no one would have known everything he did. Whose side he was really on.”

“You had other things on your mind! You were going to sacrifice yourself to give us a chance. Anyone in your situation would have forgotten.”

“But...”

“But nothing.” Hermione said firmly. “If Snape gave you those memories, it was so that you would do what you did. So that you could take down Voldemort. And if in the end...” Hermione took a deep breath, but the air came shakily into her lungs. “If in the end the worst happens, and Snape doesn't make it... I don't think he'll regret it, Harry.”

Hermione's eyes were red, but her gaze was determined.

“Okay?” She asked.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

From then on, the conversation went relatively normally, until Hermione explained that she was planning to go to Australia to look for her parents as soon as things calmed down.

“Obviously, I miss them. But I'd rather not see them for a few more weeks than have them come back and be in danger. We have become known faces, and there are still Death Eaters out there. I don't want some bastard to use them for his absurd revenge. If they were smart, they'd hide and try to keep a low profile or flee the country, but…”

“If they were smart, they would not be Death Eaters.” Ron said.

“True.”

Harry listened to them without really participating in the conversation, except for a few nods. He didn't feel much like talking, and though he tried not to think about it, his mind kept wandering back to the possibility of Snape's death. The uncertainty was strange to him. He had lost many people in his life, but always quickly and brutally. One moment they were there and the next they were gone. This state of waiting and not knowing was different. He didn't know how to deal with it.

Half an hour had passed since Harry had entered the infirmary when the door opened. Madam Pomfrey emerged from it, sweat on her brow and exhaustion on her face. All three got on their feet in an instant and Harry braced himself for the worst.

“How is he? Is he...?”

“He's stable.” Said the healer, smiling slightly. “I won’t lie to you, there's still some risk. But the worst is over. And without any complications, he is more than likely to recover.”

Harry was so relieved that he had to sit down. He exhaled, and in doing so let out all the fear that he had accumulated. As he inhaled again, the air felt more pure and fresh.

He wanted to get up and go into the room, to check that Snape was really there. That he was alive and breathing. But he could only bury his face in his hands and close his eyes. Was he going to cry? He wasn't sure. If someone had told him he would be crying for Snape less than a week ago, he wouldn't have believed it. After hating Dumbledore's murderer with all his being, that would have seemed impossible. But here he was. In the waiting room of the infirmary, his hands over his eyes, silently weeping for the Potions Master. They were tears of relief and joy, but they also carried sadness at the thought of all those people who had not made it.

“Harry.” Hermione said softly.

Her friend was crying too, but there was happiness on her face. And next to her was Ron, one arm around her, and on his lips was the first sincere smile Harry had seen in a long time.

He got up from his seat and starting walking towards the room when Madam Pomfrey offered him something as he passed her.

“Here.” she said.

It was a handkerchief.

“He's asleep. It will take him some time to wake up, but you can see him if you like.”

Harry nodded.

“Thank you. Thank you very much, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Don't just give them to me. He has done his part, too.”

The three friends stared at her blankly.

“I will explain. Come along.”

She opened the door she had just left and gestured for them to enter.

Harry's mind had prepared him for the worst. He had imagined Snape lying in a pool of blood, grimacing in pain and with a sickening hole in his neck. But what he saw was the exact opposite of that scene, and perhaps that was why it shocked him so much.

Snape lay with his eyes closed on the infirmary bed; sheets pulled up to his chest. Madam Pomfrey had exchanged his usual black clothes for a pair of white pajamas that looked strangely out of place. His face had been cleaned of blood and his neck was bandaged. Nothing seemed to indicate that he had been at death's door only a couple of hours before. Only the extreme paleness of his face betrayed the amount of blood he had lost.

Harry approached him slowly, expecting Snape to snap his eyes open and start yelling at him. He knew he wouldn't want anyone to see him in such a vulnerable state. Especially if that someone was Harry.

But he walked to the foot of the bed and nothing happened.

Then Harry looked up and met Ron's gaze, who nodded.

“He looks much better than he did before.” He assured him.

“Looking worse would be difficult.” Madam Pomfrey whispered. “Anyone else would have been dead in a matter of minutes, but Severus is no ordinary man. For all his faults... He's a brilliant man, always has been. And that is exactly what saved his life. He must have taken some potions I don't know about before the attack. Probably his own invention.”

Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that Hermione had raised her eyebrows with interest.

“From the tests I have done and the simple fact that he is alive now, I have certain theories about what kind of potions they are. An anti-poison, no doubt about it. Otherwise, it would have spread throughout his body and I only found traces of it in the area of the bite.”

“He must have started taking it when he saw how Voldemort used Nagini.” Said Hermione, remembering her encounter with the snake. If she'd had to spend time around the thing like Snape had, she'd probably want to have the antidote at her disposal as well.

Madam Pomfrey nodded.

“What I don't understand is where he got the samples from in order to create the potion.”

“Voldemort extracted poison from it sometimes.” Harry said, remembering. “He ordered Wormtail to do it. I think he drank it to make himself stronger or something like that.”

The grimaces of disgust on the faces of the others were a reflection of Harry’s own feelings on the matter.

“So gross…” Ron whispered.

“Yes, but that explains how Snape got the venom.” Said Hermione. “It mustn’t have been hard to keep some of it.”

“Did you say he took other potions, Madam Pomfrey?” Harry asked, trying not to think about the huge snake attacking the Professor's neck over and over again.

“Yes, I did.” She nodded. “Even without the effect of the poison, the blood loss caused by the wounds should have killed him.”

Harry flinched visibly at that sentence.

“I suspect he must also have taken something that regenerates the blood at a faster rate than normal.” Continued the healer. “I suppose it must still have been in the experimental stage and that's why he never mentioned it. He always brought me any new potions he created that he thought might be useful. If he took this one without being sure whether it would work or not, he must have been very desperate.”

Madam Pomfrey's voice trailed off and her eyes fell on Snape's face. Even if she didn't show it, it was clear that she was worried too.

“So, you're saying that Snape knew that V-Voldemort was going to attack him?” Ron asked.

“I can't say for sure. But why else would he take that second potion?”

“Oh man...” sighed Ron, admiring the professor's bravery despite himself.

Harry felt sick all of a sudden. He remembered how Snape had asked Voldemort to let him go and get him. ‘Let me go get the boy’, he had said. But now Harry knew the truth. Snape had wanted to find him so he could tell him what he needed to know. That he was a Horcrux and that he had to sacrifice himself to bring Voldemort down. Or all would be lost.

Snape had taken those potions and gone to meet his master, even though he knew he would most likely try to kill him. All to avoid arousing suspicion and to keep Voldemort from distrusting him. And all so that Dumbledore's plan would run its course.

Harry had forgiven the Headmaster; he had understood the reason of everything. Of all the manipulations, sacrifices, and hidden truths. But at the thought of what Snape had given for the cause without anyone knowing, the anger returned. The Potions Professor had lived for and to bring Voldemort down. The eternal spy, always between two sides. Unable to trust anyone. It was unfair, Harry decided. Snape had made many mistakes as a young man, but as far as Harry was concerned, he had more than made up for them.

“That's my theory, at least.” Madam Pomfrey continued. “I hope I can ask him about it when he wakes up.”

Harry liked the sound of that ‘when’.

“Anyway, I'll leave you guys alone now. I have set up charms that will alert me in case there are any changes, so there's no need for someone to be with him all the time. I will be back in a few hours to change his bandages, but there are other patients who need me and there is really nothing more I can do. We'll just have to wait.”

“All right.” Said Hermione. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”

She nodded and headed for the door.

“Oh, and one last thing. I think it would be wise not to proclaim to everyone that Severus is alive and here. There are still people who will want to make sure he doesn't wake up. On both sides.”

The three friends nodded gravely, and with that, the healer left the room.

“Harry” said Hermione after a while.

“Uh...?”

“I think you should go and get ready, and also get something to eat. We can stay with Snape in the meantime.”

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“I don’t mean to contradict you,” Ron said, ”but you're not even wearing shoes, mate.”

Harry looked down at his feet in surprise. He had completely forgotten that detail.

“And even if Snape is on our side now... He's still Snape. I don't think he'll be too thrilled to see you in your pajamas and barefoot when he wakes up.”

Hermione smiled, agreeing with Ron.

“He'll think it's disrespectful or something” she said.

Harry looked down at the black soles of his bare feet, uncertain.

“Look, you don't even have to leave the infirmary.” Hermione explained. “There are showers around here that I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will let you use. And Ron can get you some clothes from your dormitory.”

The boy nodded, but Harry still didn't look convinced.

“I don't know, Hermione…”

“Let's do one thing. I'll get us something to eat and Ron can get you some clothes. You stay here in the meantime, okay? And when we get back, you go have a shower and we'll stay with him.”

“That's a good plan.” Ron supported her.

Harry sighed, knowing, despite himself, that his friends were right.

“Okay...”

“Perfect.” Hermione smiled, getting to her feet. “You'll see, after you eat something and get cleaned up, you'll feel better.”

Harry doubted that the uneasy feeling he had inside his stomach would fade away, but he said nothing. Ron and Hermione moved towards the door and, after a last glance in their friend's direction, they left the room.

Once he was alone, Harry was aware of the silence in the room. He could hear Snape's slow breathing and, suddenly, he felt out of place. What was he doing there? He should be with the Weasleys, mourning Fred. Or with Andromeda Tonks, who had come to Hogwarts to make funeral arrangements for her daughter and Remus. They had been his friends and had died for him, to defeat Voldemort. Harry should be standing next to their families, supporting them. What was he doing sitting by Snape's bed, suffering for the man? He had always treated him with contempt and hatred. He didn't deserve Harry to cry for him.

‘But he also saved your life many times’, a voice in his head reminded him. ‘He put himself in danger, he spied and fought for Dumbledore. But also, for you, to keep you safe’. That much was true, but Harry had not yet had time to assimilate it. And there was also another thing. The fact that his own mother had seen something in Snape. Something good that had made her his friend for five years. It was all strange and confusing, and Harry didn't have the energy to deal with it at the moment. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want Snape to die. That should be enough. At least until the professor woke up.

The minutes ticked by, as Harry sat quietly and deep in thought. After a while, the door opened, and Ron came in again.

“Hello,” he greeted him, “I have brought your clothes.”

He placed them on his lap and Harry looked at them for a moment. They were Muggle clothes, simple and comfortable. One of the outfits Hermione had kept in her beaded bag in case of emergency, along with pajamas for the three of them. When the battle was over, she had left them in their rooms in the Common Room and, upon seeing them, Harry was thankful for his friend's planful nature. It would not have been very nice to still be wearing the clothes he was wearing during the battle, full of sweat, blood and dirt. It might have seemed like a small thing, given the circumstances, but it wasn't.

“Hermione's not here yet, is she? Well, there must be a long queue. Everyone's hungry and the house elves have only been back in the kitchens for a little while.” He explained. “I suppose it must feel strange for them too, returning to normal after everything that's happened.” He sighed, and his gaze lingered on the floor for a few seconds longer than usual.

Harry noticed but didn't say anything. He wanted to tell Ron how sorry he was about Fred’s loss, but he couldn't find the words.

“Well, while we are waiting, you can go take a shower if you want. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Snape.”

Seeing that Harry didn't move, he insisted.

“I mean it, I don't care. I've almost grown fond of the bat.” He joked.

But Harry still wouldn't get up, so Ron said:

“Harry, listen to me.”

His voice had suddenly deepened, and when he looked up, Harry could see him giving him a serious look.

“You heard Madam Pomfrey, he's stable. We just need to wait. You don't need to be with him permanently.”

“I know.” Harry said slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I really do. But... I'm afraid to leave him alone. What if something changes while I'm gone and... and he dies?” He whispered the last word, afraid that it might come true if he said it out loud.

“It won't happen, I promise. And if it does... It will happen even if you're here.”

“I just don't know why I suddenly care so much about what happens to him.” He admitted, embarrassed. “I guess... I don't want to lose anyone else.”

At that, Ron closed his eyes tightly.

“I understand.” He said, his voice heavy with pain. “But that's not up to us anymore.”

He sat down next to him and squeezed his knee, giving him his support.

“And now, come on, go and get changed. We will be here.” He said, pointing to Snape and himself.

Harry looked down and was silent for a few seconds, thinking about everything Ron had said. When he looked up again, he seemed convinced. He nodded to himself and gave a small smile.

“Thank you, Ron.” he said with warmth in his voice. He gathered up his clothes, took one last look at Snape, and stood up.

“You're welcome.” He replied as he was opening the door to leave. “And don't worry. If Hermione comes in and you're still not here, I promise not to eat your food.”

Harry couldn't help but chuckle softly.

“Oh, I will hurry up,” he said, teasingly, “I'm not going to take any chances with your appetite.” And closed the door before Ron had time to reply.

Once out of the room he found the showers easily, he just had to follow the signs that indicated each of the different areas of the infirmary. Grabbing one of the clean towels at the entrance, he noticed that the place was empty, something Harry was grateful for. After leaving his clothes in a cupboard, he stepped into the first shower he could find. He had told Ron that he would go as quickly as possible, but once he was under the hot water, he began to relax and changed his mind. The heat made him feel clean and caused his muscles to stop being stiff. He was there, enjoying the warmth on his skin when suddenly something broke inside of him and he started crying so hard that he didn't know where his tears ended and the water began.

He didn't know how long he spent like that, sitting on the floor, crying like a baby as the water washed him clean, but there came a point when it was over. He felt better, as if he had let go of what had been pressing on his chest. He realized that he had. Amazed by this new sensation, he got out of the shower and wrapped himself in the towel. Evidently, what had happened at the battle at Hogwarts still hurt. But at least now, for a moment, he could look at the facts, face them. It was liberating in a way.

After drying off, he began to get dressed. As soon as he reached his shoes, he smiled to himself. Ron was right. If Snape had seen him in his pajamas and barefoot, as soon as he woke up, he probably would have killed him. It was nice to know that some things had not changed.

He walked back to the room, enjoying the silence, and realized how hungry he was. He hoped Ron had kept his promise to save him some food.

Luckily, he had. Opening the door, he was greeted by Hermione, who placed a plate in his hands. Harry thanked her for it and then sat down next to her.

“I ran into Ginny when I was in the Dining Hall.” He explained as Harry chewed. “She had gone to get food as well. She said she would take a plate to Mrs. Weasley and then she would come here.”

Harry nodded, not quite sure what to think. He still hadn't really spoken to Ginny after the Battle. She had been supporting her parents after Fred and helping Neville with the wounded. Harry had wanted to lend a hand too, but every time he appeared in public a crowd came up to thank him. The last thing the injured needed was noise and people pilling up around them. And the Weasleys had to deal with their loss as a family. For that reason, Harry had preferred to retreat to more discreet places. There would be time to talk later.

“Well, if she comes, I'll go and keep my parents’ company.” Ron said, suddenly very serious. “I wanted to go earlier, but I wasn’t ready yet. And besides, with everything that has happened…” He gestured vaguely in Snape's direction.

“Of course, Ron. You don't have to explain yourself.” Harry said sincerely. “You belong with your family.”

“I know. That is why I've been here all this time.”

He said it so naturally that Harry didn't know how to react. He looked at his best friend and saw in his eyes what must have been in his own. Sadness for what was lost, yes, but infinite love and affection for those who were still there. For his family. And that included Harry and Hermione too. They had been through so much together that something as insignificant as blood did not matter.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured.

Ron smiled at him, while Hermione watched them with unshed tears, moved.

“Okay, you are making it really hard for me not to cry.” She said, her voice trembling but still smiling.

Ron opened his mouth to reply but before he could, the door opened, and Ginny walked in. Seeing the sight, she stood still and watched them, undecided.

“Hey... Am I interrupting something? I can come back later if you want.

“No, that’s all right.” Ron said quickly. “It’s okay. We were just... eh...”

“Don't worry, Ginny.” Hermione reassured her, wiping her eyes discretely. “It was a bit of a sappy conversation, but it was coming to an end.”

Ginny bit her lip.

“Oh, I'm sorry...”

“It's all right.” Ron said, making a nonchalant gesture. “I was just leaving anyway. I wanted to go and see Mum and Dad.”

“I left them with George in the Great Hall. I suppose they'll still be there for a while.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Ron got up from his seat and looked around. He saw Ginny watching Harry intently and realized that Harry hadn't said anything yet.

“Hey... Hermione, do you want to come with me?” He shared a glance with the girl, and then pointed with his head to the other two.

Hermione understood instantly.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” She nodded. “I am actually a bit hungry still. I'll come with you and get some more food.”

She stood up and opened the door, Ron at her side.

“We'll see you guys in a bit, okay?” She said as a goodbye.

Harry and Ginny looked at them in surprise but nodded. It was lucky Hermione turned to leave at that moment, or they would have seen the satisfied smile on her face.

As soon as the door had closed, Ginny sat down on the chair next to Harry.

“I'm sorry for interrupting the moment.” She said, filling the silence.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” Harry replied. “In fact, I appreciate it.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know how much Hermione likes it when Ron behaves in a mature and sensitive way. If you hadn't come along, they would probably have started making out.”

He made an exaggerated grimace and got what he was looking for, a smile on Ginny's face. The truth was, he had been dreading being alone with her, that it would be awkward or uncomfortable. But now that he was in the situation, everything was so much simpler. He had forgotten how easy it was to talk to her.

“You're right, she does like it... So, they really are together, aren't they?” Ginny sighed. “I never thought I'd see the day. It had to take a war to get those two to confess their feelings.” She shook her head.

“We never had that problem.” Harry said, more bravely than he felt.

“No, we did not...” She whispered; her eyes fixed in some point of the white wall. “Rather, it was the war that drove us apart.”

“Ginny, I... I don't...” He took a deep breath. “Look, I don't want screw it up, okay?”

“Screw it up? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about this, about us.” He pointed at himself and then at her. “I... the time we spent together I was very happy. Happier than I've ever been.” He admitted. “But now... I never thought I would have a future. And now it's here and I don't know what to do!”

He realized he had raised his voice and looked at Snape, suddenly remembering that he was there.

“We didn't pick the best place to talk about this, did we?” Said Ginny sarcastically, as she waited for Harry to collect his thoughts.

Harry sighed and then said what he really wanted to say.

“Listen, you... You've had a really hard time. You have spent a whole year fighting from Hogwarts, holding on. You've... you've lost your brother and a lot of other friends.” His voice trembled, and Ginny winced at the reminder. “That changes you as a person. You need time to come to terms with everything that's happened. And then to decide if you want to keep going with it, with us, or not.”

“Harry.”

“I don't want you to feel some kind of... obligation to be with me. Or that you do it just so you don't have to think about everything that's happened. It's not fair to you.”

“And it wouldn't be fair to you either, Harry.” She said firmly. “Listen to me: I'm aware of all this. I have also been thinking about us. And everything you've said about me applies to you too. You've changed too, you've suffered too. That is a fact. We are not the same people we were a year ago. We will never be again.” For an instant, the reality of those words silenced her. “But, despite all this, I still have feelings for you. You're my friend, you're my family. And... and you're probably something else. I'm not telling you to... ‘get married tomorrow.’” She snorted, shaking her head. “I just want to take it slow. Get to know each other again and see what we want. There's no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

“Get to know each other again.” Repeated Harry. “Yes, I would like that. I would like that very much.”

Without intending to, a smile spread across his face. He looked at Ginny, his eyes bright with relief and hope. She looked back at him, and Harry lost himself in her brown eyes. He had missed them so much; he had missed her so much! When he realized that, he was no longer afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Now he knew what he wanted.

Instinctively, he found Ginny's right hand and took it in his left. For a moment, he waited for her reaction, fearing he had crossed a line. It was merely the length of a heartbeat. The next, she ran her thumb over the back of his hand, where the words ‘I must not tell lies’ were marked on his skin, and gave him a firm squeeze.

“I've missed you.” Ginny admitted.

“I've missed you too.”

She brought their joined hands to her lips and placed a kiss on Harry's, before letting him go.

“I have a confession to make.” She said after doing so, causing Harry to listen carefully.

“Tell me.”

“If Snape wasn't in front of us, this kiss would have probably been on your lips.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But being in the same room as him is a complete turn-off.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh softly.

“Bloody Snape.” He said, amused. “Very like him to screw me over even when he’s unconscious.”

Ginny's laughter did not take long, and Harry soaked in it. He realized he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his days listening to it. Being the cause of that sound.

“I'm glad we're okay.” He confessed.

“Me too.”

A few moments passed in silence, until Ginny stood up. She slowly approached Snape and looked at him curiously.

“Hermione explained everything.” She said. “How Nagini attacked him and how she and Ron found him. And I also remember what you said while you were fighting Voldemort. About his loyalties. I suppose it must be true or else you wouldn't be here, worried about him.”

Harry nodded.

“It is true.”

“At least now it makes sense of all the things he did last year.”

“What things?”

“Sending Neville and me to Hagrid as punishment, for example. Instead of with the Carrows. I didn't understand how he could be so stupid as to think Hagrid would treat us badly. Turns out he was smarter than I thought... It was his way of protecting us.” She said, quietly. “I never liked him much, but if he wakes up, I'd want to thank him. Not only that, but all the things he must have done as a spy that we didn't even realize. All of the times his information kept us safe.”

“That's one of the reasons why I'm here. I feel like I owe him, in a way. I wish... I wish that when he wakes up, he can have a second chance. A better life than before.”

“We will make sure he does, Harry.” She said, sitting down next to him. “No one will ever suffer because of that monster again. You made sure of that.”

“Not just me.” He told her, with seriousness in his eyes. “We all did.”

Ginny nodded and then they stayed together in silence, enjoying each other's presence. Minutes passed and Harry's tiredness began to take its toll. He slowly closed his eyes, resting his head on Ginny’s shoulder. Just when he was about to fall asleep, the door opened for the umpteenth time that day.

“Are you still here, Mr. Potter?” It was Madam Pomfrey. “I told you there was no need for you to stay. If there are any changes, the enchantments I've placed around him should let me know.”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, I remember. But I didn't want to leave him alone.”

Madam Pomfrey's gaze softened.

“It's all right. If you want to stay, you can stay, of course. But now I've come to change his bandages.”

Seeing that neither Harry nor Ginny made any sign of moving, the nurse stared at them.

“Professor Snape's wounds are not very pleasant to look at.” She explained. “I recommend that you both leave the room in the meantime.”

The two exchanged a glance. After all he had been through, Harry doubted that anything could impress him, but he knew that Snape would not like to be seen in an even more vulnerable position, so, he decided to leave.

“All right.” he said, standing up. Next to him, Ginny did the same. “We'll be outside.”

“I'll let you know when I'm done.” Madam Pomfrey promised, though her attention was completely focused on Snape. She had his back to them and was making complicated wand movements as the clean bandages floated around her.

Harry hurried out the door.

“It's been a long time since Ron and Hermione left.” Ginny commented as they entered the waiting room.

Harry checked his wristwatch.

“True.”

“I don't think they'll be back.” She smiled. “I guess they wanted to give us some privacy.”

“Oh, totally. I saw Ron nodding his head in our direction. I'm grateful he did it, but it was quite noticeable.”

Ginny laughed softly.

“Typical Ron...”

“Typical Ron.” Harry repeated, smiling warmly.

Ginny returned the smile but then a thought crossed her mind, making it disappear.

“I don't know if he told you. But we'll probably be going home for a couple of days.”

“Oh... No, I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, Weasleys are coming from all over the country, for the... for Fred's funeral,” Ginny swallowed and continued. “Mum wants to host them all at home and feed them... You know how she is. And I want to be there to help her and Dad too. I know they are the adults, but someone should look after them too. Make sure they don't work themselves to exhaustion.

Harry nodded, slowly.

“I wish I could do something to help you.”

“Your place is here, for the moment. Professor McGonagall told me you still have a lot to do. Explanations to give and hands to shake.”

Harry snorted.

“You know how much I like to be the center of attention...”

Ginny gave a small smile and looked up at him, the affection evident in her eyes.

“I know. But besides, Snape's here.” She reminded him. “At some point he'll wake up and he'll need someone to fill him in on everything. And there will probably be a trial. You'll have to testify on his behalf.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

“I hadn't thought of that.”

“Don't worry. You're Harry Potter.” Said Ginny, as if that explained everything. “They'll listen to you.”

“I hope...” Sighed Harry. “But no matter what responsibilities I have here. If you need me, let me know.” He said seriously.

Ginny reached up and stroked his cheek gently.

“Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.”

Harry brought his hand up to hers and left it there. They spent a few seconds like that, looking at each other and giving each other affection.

“I should go check on my parents.” Ginny finally said, releasing his hand. “And George.”

“Is he still so quiet?”

“Yeah...” he sighed, looking away. “It's like... It's like a part of him has been ripped out of him. I can't even imagine how he must be feeling. If it's hard enough for the rest of us...” She breathed shakily, trying not to cry. “It must be awful for him.”

“I'm so sorry, Ginny.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her, and she felt safe against his chest. There, she was able to let go and cry quietly. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding and supporting each other. When she was a little calmer, she pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.”

She ran the back of her hand over her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“And we'll be fine. Someday. We just need time to learn to deal with it.” She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “Tell me something.”

“Anything you want.”

“Do you still miss Sirius?”

Harry felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to hide the reality and tell her that he didn't, that it had gotten easier with time. But it was Ginny who had asked him, and he would never lie to her.

“Every day.” He admitted. “I miss him every day.”

Ginny looked down at the floor and, after a few seconds, nodded.

“Wow, that's great.” She said sarcastically, with a sad smile. “But thanks... for telling me the truth.”

“I still miss him.” Harry said again. “But there comes a time when you are at peace with it. Some days it hurts more and some days it hurts less.” He shrugged, not quite knowing what to say. “I'm sorry, I don't have a formula for dealing with it. You just... do it. Because there is no other way. And because the people who are still here make it worth it.”

Ginny's lips trembled, but she nodded decisively.

“I'm glad to know that I'll never stop missing him, because I don't want to. I don't want to forget him. But the other thing you said about being able to bear it... It gives me hope, in a way. To know that together we'll be able to move forward.”

“That's what I wanted to achieve. I'm glad I've cheered you up, if only a little.”

Ginny smiled at him, still with traces of moisture on her cheeks.

“You always do. Thank you, Harry.”

‘Thank you,’ Harry wanted to say, ‘for so many things’. But instead, he remained silent and simply nodded.

“Well, I'm sorry to leave you in such a bad mood.” She said. “But I really do have to go.”

“It's okay, I understand.”

“I'll come by and say goodbye before I go home, okay? And I'll see you again at the funeral.”

The word still sounded strange to Harry, unreal.

“Alright.”

“Do you want me say something to Ron and Hermione, so they can come and keep you company?”

Harry shook his head.

“Don't worry, I've got the coin from the D.A. I'll let them know.”

“Alright, then. See you later.”

She walked over to say goodbye and Harry raised his arms, thinking she was going to hug him. To his surprise, Ginny stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, before pulling away.

“Snape is no longer here.” She said as an explanation.

Harry couldn't help but smile, a little flushed, as Ginny winked at him and turned to leave the room. He wanted to say something but could only stare at her with an idiotic look on his face and his lips burning where Ginny's had touched him.

He stood there for a few seconds, staring at the door that had just closed, when he realized that Madam Pomfrey was still in Snape's room. It had been a long time and Harry feared that something had gone wrong.

He went in without a second thought and saw the nurse sitting in a chair, staring at the Potions professor, who was still asleep on his bed.

“Madam Pomfrey? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes, don't worry. I was just taking a little break. It has been a tiring few days. Besides, I assumed you and Miss Weasley had things to talk about.”

Harry could feel his cheeks burning.

“Thank you.”

Madam Pomfrey's smile was not long in coming.

“Don't be embarrassed, Potter. You are young! It's the right time for the dramas of the heart. And especially considering everything you have been through.” She shook her head and the smile disappeared. “Poor kids.”

Harry didn't quite know what to say, so he kept silent.

“Anyway,” sighed the nurse, “I should get back to work.”

“Is there anything I can do...?”

“Thank you, Potter, but I'm afraid not.” lowly, she got up on her feet, and Harry could see the fatigue in her movements. “I only have to hold on for a couple more days. Kingsley has promised me that when things are a little calmer at the Ministry, he will send staff to Hogwarts. Medical, mostly, but also people to rebuild the school.”

Harry remembered the havoc caused by the battle and nodded.

“As well as politicians and judges,” continued the healer, “who will have to deal with the Death Eaters who didn't manage to get away. Judge them for their crimes…” Madam Pomfrey shook her head and Harry could see the anger in her usually calm features. “Judge them! They would only have to spend five minutes in the infirmary to reach a verdict. The horrors committed by these... these people. Beasts, more like. They should spend the rest of their lives locked up. Now that would be justice. Anyone connected with V-Voldemort would deserve it.”

Harry said nothing, but he thought of Draco and Narcissa, even Snape, and realized that things were not so simple. He used to think the world was black and white, but he had learned that it was not.

“Oh... Merlin. I'm sorry, Potter. I shouldn't lose my temper like this.” She cleared her throat and smoothed down the white skirt of her uniform.

“It's all right. I understand.”

She nodded.

“Anyway… I'd better get back to work.”

“Okay, Madam Pomfrey. I hope it gets easier.”

“Me too, Potter, thank you” she said. And without another word she left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Harry took a deep breath. He had told Ginny that he would say something to Ron and Hermione, but the truth was that he wanted to be alone. He took the coin from the D.A. and, after fiddling with it for a while, decided to put it in his pocket.

His two friends deserved to spend some time together, without Harry hanging around. Besides, after all he'd been through that day, he was grateful to have some time to himself. To think about everything that had happened since he'd arrived at the infirmary. He reminisced about his conversations with Ron and Hermione, but also with Ginny and Madam Pomfrey. As he did so, he could feel his eyelids getting heavier and before he knew it, he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, his mouth was dry, and his neck was numb from the back of the chair. It took him a while to remember where he was. When he did, he realized two things. One, Snape was still asleep. And two, he was not alone in the room. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the intruder, before realizing it was Professor McGonagall.

“I didn't mean to wake you.” She said apologetically. “It was clear you needed your sleep.”

Harry lowered his wand, still a little sleepy.

“Professor?”

“Good morning, Potter.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and checked her watch. “Afternoon, rather.”

“What? Have I slept that long?”

“Yes, but don't worry.” She said, seeing the look on the boy's face. “Madam Pomfrey has already informed your friends that you were here. They have also decided that it would be best to let you rest.”

Harry ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the sleep.

“Thank you... It’s true that I was tired.”

Professor McGonagall smiled, but then looked at Snape and that caused it to disappeared.

“Madam Pomfrey has explained everything to me... I couldn't come earlier, there's still a lot of work to be done. But I had to see it for myself.”

She moved to the edge of Snape's bed, her back to Harry. Then, she brought a hand to the man’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. Although he could not see her face, the shaking of her shoulders indicated to Harry that she was crying.

A few minutes passed in silence. Harry not knowing what to say and Professor McGonagall standing beside Snape, sobbing quietly. Finally, she turned away from the bed. Harry could see the remnants of tears on her face, but otherwise she had almost completely regained her composure.

“Merlin... I'm sorry, Harry.”

“Don't worry, Professor. It's quite normal. You were friends for years.”

“Friends.” She repeated. “That is a word Severus would never use. Workmates, colleagues... That was as far as one could go with Severus Snape. And now I understand why. He couldn't allow himself to form bonds with people. His role as a spy was too important.” She smiled humorlessly, sitting down on a chair. “And yet... I like to think we had something akin to friendship. All these years have got to be worth something, haven't they?”

Harry didn't know if she was talking to him or just out loud, though he didn't want to interrupt her. It wasn't like Professor McGonagall to open up like that. But he supposed that what had happened over the last few days and seeing Snape alive again would affect anyone.

“I hated him so much this year.” The teacher confessed. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it, that at some point I would explode and finish him off. Dumbledore's murderer, the traitor. The one who had betrayed our trust... But I held on. And then, to know that he was on our side all this time, only to find out that he was dead... It was quite painful.” Her face clearly said that word didn't begin to describe it. “And now, after all that, he's alive?”

Harry couldn't quite believe it either, even if he had known it all day.

“Yes, this is Severus’ style.” Professor McGonagall's sarcastic smile was full of affection, despite everything. “Dramatic to the end.”

Silence fell in the room after that sentence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Harry was happy to share that moment with Professor McGonagall. The two of them sitting in front of Snape's bed, while the professor laid there, breathing slowly. He liked knowing that McGonagall's feelings for Snape were as complicated as his own for the man.

“He'll wake up, Professor.” He said, finally. “I'm sure of it. I am now.”

She smiled at him. It was a sad smile, but Harry could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“I really hope you are right, Potter.”

The rain pattered against the glass, accompanying Harry and filling the silence of the room. The storm that was falling was typical of the time of year, heavy but brief, so he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying it while it lasted. It had only been a few days since the war had ended, since Ron and Hermione had brought Snape to the infirmary, but Harry felt as if it had been months.

The Weasleys, with the exception of Ron, had returned to the Burrow that morning. Harry remembered Mrs. Weasley's hug and the kiss Ginny had given him on the lips, promising to see him again in a few days at the funeral. But the farewell that had shocked the boy the most had been George's. Harry had approached him carefully, planning to give him a squeeze on the arm and a few words of encouragement. Before he could do so, however, George had wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him so tightly that Harry had run out of breath for a moment. He quickly returned the embrace with the same intensity, trying to show him everything he felt. When they pulled apart, both their cheeks were wet, but George's eyes were less empty than before.

And so, the Weasleys had returned home to prepare for Fred's funeral and to welcome all the family that had travelled there. Only Ron had stayed behind, which Mrs. Weasley hadn't been very happy about at first. Her husband made her understand that everyone deals with grief in their own way, and eventually Molly gave in. Ron was going to return to the Burrow in time for the funeral, after things had calmed down at Hogwarts.

Politicians, journalists, and celebrities had come to the school. But also, relatives of the victims, healers and people who wanted to help rebuild the castle. Because Harry, Ron and Hermione had played such an important role in defeating Voldemort, their presence was somehow required. They had to give their side of the story to various authorities in the magical world, as well as shaking hands and helping to boost the morale of the wounded. Of course, they could have refused, but all three felt responsible. Had they not returned to Hogwarts for the Horcrux, the battle would never have happened.

In this moment, though, Harry was back in Snape's room. The Professor had not yet awoken, but according to Madam Pomfrey his wounds were healing. As time passed, it had become easier for Harry to leave Snape under the watchful eye of his friends. Both Ron and Hermione had replaced him in his chair by the professor’s gurney so that Harry could sleep in a bed, spend time away from the infirmary, or attend to his responsibilities. Now, however, it was his turn to be there.

He didn't know exactly what time it was, but by the moonlight coming in from the window, it must have been late. Still, he didn't mind. He felt strangely calm and at ease, with Snape still asleep on his bed and the rain falling hard against the glass. He had checked out several books from the library and was reading them sitting cross-legged, the light from his wand illuminating the pages.

He knew that, if he so desired, he could start working as an auror at any time. But Harry didn't want to have any gaps in a knowledge that might one day save his life, so he had gone to the library to get several advanced books on Defence, Potions or Charms. Mrs. Prince had cleverly created powerful protections on the books at the start of the battle and thanks to that most of them survived the fight.

So, Harry sat there, next to Snape, reading in a silence broken only by the rain and the turning of the pages. He knew that when dawn came that quiet would be replaced by the coming and going of healers, the noise of the owls and the crowds of people wandering around the school. He was also aware that in the coming days he would be attending many funerals of loved ones, which would be painful. And that as soon as Snape woke up, he would have another fire to put out. But at that moment he felt strangely at peace.

He read on for a long time, well into the early hours of the morning, when suddenly the door opened, and Madam Pomfrey entered the room.

“Potter.”

The healer was not surprised to see him, having grown accustomed to his presence over the past few days.

“Madam Pomfrey. Has something happened?”

“I'm not sure.” She approached Snape slowly and watched him for a moment. “The charms I placed have alerted me that a change is taking place.”

Harry got suddenly out of breath.

“A... a change?”

“That's right.” She said. “Give me a minute.”

She made some complicated movements with her wand, whispering different words in a language Harry didn't know. As the seconds ticked by, the boy began to worry. He didn't want to distract Madam Pomfrey, so he didn't say anything, but only the most pessimistic scenarios were running through his mind.

Just when he thought he couldn't take the uncertainty any longer, Madam Pomfrey turned around and Harry could see her face. She had a tired smile on her face and her eyes were shining with satisfaction.

“It will be all right, Potter.” She said, reassuringly. “His breathing, as well as his pulse, are quickening. That indicates that his body is preparing to wake up. I can tell you that he will do so shortly.”

Those words dispelled the anxiety Harry had carried with him since he had discovered that Snape was alive. The twinge of nervousness in his stomach disappeared and he had to take a deep breath to keep from getting dizzy with relief.

“Are you alright?” Madam Pomfrey asked, watching him closely.

“Yes, yes. Of course. This is fantastic news. It's just...” He hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to explain himself. “It's been so many days of nerves; I can't believe it's really happening.”

“It's perfectly normal, Potter.” She said, reaching over and patting him on the back. “Take deep breaths and it will pass.”

Harry did so, and slowly regained his composure.

“Okay, I’m good. I'm all right.” He said, more to himself than to Madam Pomfrey.

“I'm glad, because you only have a few minutes until Professor Snape wakes up.”

Harry nodded, suddenly nervous, anticipating the moment. He looked around and saw the mess in the room. He decided that the last thing he wanted was to upset Snape as soon as he woke up, so he set to work. He gathered up his books and stuffed them into his backpack, which he then left leaning against his chair. Then he folded up the blanket he had covered himself with and put it in a drawer indicated by Madam Pomfrey. When he was done, he sat down again, fiddling impatiently with his fingers.

“Potter.” The healer said when only a few seconds had passed. “I want you to listen to me carefully. I know you probably have a lot to talk to Severus about, but it's important that you don't upset him too much. He'll still be very weak and, considering your history with him... I don't want to have to throw you out of the room, do you understand?”

Harry nodded, though he couldn't help but to smile with humour.

“I understand, but don't worry. I don't mean to pick up a fight with Snape. I don't think I ever will again.”

Now that the war was over and Harry knew him better, he hoped to be able to maintain a cordial relationship with the man. Their days of childish bickering were behind them, at least as far as Harry was concerned.

“Good,” Was all Madam Pomfrey said.

The next few seconds passed in silence, as Harry's heart pounded. Behind the windows the rain had stopped, but he didn't notice, he was too focused on Snape. He watched his face, waiting for some change.

When it finally happened, it was as if time slowed down. Snape's eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened. It took them a few seconds to get used to the light, but when they did, they quickly went to rest on Harry.

Green met black, just as it had nights before, in the Shrieking House. Harry had thought it would never happen again, and so he shivered when Snape's dark eyes looked directly at him and, after a few moments, recognized him.

“Potter?” His name had only been a whisper, a sigh in the silence of the room, but Harry could hear it clearly.

He wanted to reply, but the lump in his throat was too strong, so he could only smile. Some part of him realized that this was the first time he had ever smiled because of Snape.

“Severus.” Said Madam Pomfrey, her eyes a little blurry with emotion.

Snape's head turned in her direction and the movement must have caused him pain, as a grimace appeared on his face. Then he seemed to realize where he was because his eyes widened in alarm, and he began to look around nervously.

“It's all right, it's all right.” Madam Pomfrey said quickly. “You are safe.”

But Harry could see the fear on the Professor's face. Used to the man's impassivity, it worried him and made him take a step forward, approaching the bed.

“Professor, Madam Pomfrey is right: all is well. Voldemort has been defeated. The war is over.”

He hoped those words would calm him, but Snape continued to look at him, fear on his eyes, and shaking his head weakly.

“You're still... you're still alive, Potter.” Snape's voice was hoarse, Harry didn't know if it was from lack of use or from his injuries, but the panic in it was clear. “As long as... you live...” he had to pause for a moment to catch his breath, “… so will he...”

And then Harry understood.

“Oh, of course... You don't know.” The expression on Snape's face made him continue speaking quickly. “Eh... It's a bit of a long story, but basically, I did what Dumbledore wanted me to do. I let him... kill me. And that killed the part of him that lived in me. And I don't quite know how, but somehow, I survived. I was able to come back, to wake up again as if I had just fainted.”

Snape was still looking at him, sceptical, but a little calmer than before. Harry interpreted his silence as a sign for him to keep talking.

“And when I woke up again, I managed to... well, defeat him.” He didn't want to use the word ‘kill’. “There was a battle with a few Death Eaters that were left, but most of them tried to run away or surrendered. And... that was it. The war was over.”

He had been averting his gaze as he spoke, but when he finished, he turned his attention back to Snape.

“Professor?”

Snape took some time before answering him. Although the fear was gone from his features, his gaze was lost somewhere on the ceiling and for a few seconds he didn't move from there. Still, Harry couldn't blame him. He could imagine what Snape must have been feeling at that moment. Probably something similar to what he had felt when he saw Voldemort's body touch the ground.

“He's dead.” Snape finally said, and Harry did not know whether he was asking or affirming.

“Yes.” He answered, anyway. “He is dead.”

Snape's eyes met his, once more, and Harry could see the relief in them.

“Good.” He said simply. Then, surprising Harry, he gave a small smile and closed his eyes, resting his head on the pillow.

A few seconds passed in silence until Madam Pomfrey approached the bed and softly said:

“Severus, I have a few questions to ask you, if that's all right.”

Snape's eyes were still closed, but Harry could see the irritation emanating from him.

“Alright.” He said finally, sitting up with Madam Pomfrey's help.

She conjured up a pillow and placed it behind Snape's back. Once he was settled, she moved aside to make room for him.

Meanwhile, Harry felt completely out of place, watching. It had been different when Snape was asleep, but now that he was awake, he felt like an intruder.

“Let’s see.” Madam Pomfrey began. “I have noticed that you are having some difficulty speaking. It's probably due to the wounds you received to your neck.” Snape tried to hide a slight shudder, but Harry saw it. “I'm not too worried about that, though. They are healing well, so you should be able to recover your voice without any problems. Alternatively, it could also be dryness from lack of use. Which reminds me...” She waved her wand and a glass of water appeared.

Madam Pomfrey took it in one hand and helped Snape drink. When he had finished, he thanked her with a slight nod.

“Okay.” She said, placing the glass on the small table. “Another thing I wanted to know is if you remember anything about the attack.”

She had asked it gently and carefully, but Snape was not amused.

“I remember.” He said dryly.

“I'm asking because sometimes losing a lot of blood or even trauma can cause memory loss and…”

“I said I remember.”

Harry could see Snape's right hand gripping the sheets tightly.

“Alright.” Madam Pomfrey nodded, putting the matter to rest.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, just a question.”

Snape sighed, but didn't complain. Meanwhile, Harry was trying not to draw attention to himself. He didn't know if they had forgotten about him, but he didn't want to be thrown out of the room.

“I would like to know how you're feeling. Are you in any discomfort? Are you in any pain? More than would be normal under the circumstances.”

“No, I'm perfectly fine.” Snape said sarcastically.

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips together but nodded. She must have been used to dealing with difficult patients.

“Very well, then, that will be all. Now I will change the bandages and give you your potions.” Snape started to speak, but she silenced him, waving a hand. “Yes, before you start: they are potions prepared by you.”

That must have satisfied him, because he nodded and Harry could see something resembling a smile on his lips.

“Well, I'll get everything I need, and I will be right back.” Said Madam Pomfrey, heading for the door. “Mr. Potter, I think it's time for you to go back to your room, don't you think?”

Harry felt his cheeks redden and hurried to pick up his backpack. Madam Pomfrey left the room, and he was about to do the same when Snape spoke.

“Stay, Potter. At least until she returns. I have some questions.”

The surprise on Harry's face was evident, but he did as Snape had told him. He put his bag back on the floor and sat down in the chair he already considered his own.

“Professor?”

Snape said nothing for a few moments and Harry began to get nervous. Clearly, he would have been more intimidated had he not been lying on the stretcher, wearing white pyjamas and bandages around his neck. But even so, Snape's silences were always frightening.

“Have you been staying here long, Potter?” Snape's gaze went to rest on his backpack.

Harry wanted to play dumb, to deny it, but he knew it would do no good. So, he nodded.

“Yeah, a bit... We've been taking turns since you were brought to the infirmary.”

Snape watched him silently, processing that answer. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and instead asked:

“Turns? You and who else?”

“Ron and Hermione.” Said Harry.

“Of course.”

“They were the ones who found you, sir. The ones who realized you were alive.”

Snape's sarcastic smile disappeared.

“I suppose I should thank them...”

He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Harry.

“Tell me, Potter, how did you survive?” He said suddenly.

Harry tried to gather his thoughts, as even he was not sure.

“It's a bit of a long story...”

“I do not know if you've noticed, but I've got time.”

Snape seemed to be slowly regaining his voice, and though Harry was glad, it had also brought back his sarcasm.

“All right.” The boy sighed. “First of all, do you know what a Horcrux is?”

Snape's white skin paled even more, but he nodded.

“I thought you would know, after all…”

“I'm a former Death Eater who knows too much about the Dark Arts?”

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just kept explaining.

“Basically, Voldemort,” Snape grimaced at the name of his former master, “created seven of them.”

“Seven?” He whispered in horror.

“You didn’t know, sir?”

“Dumbledore never told me directly. Though after I knew you were supposed to die... Well, it wasn't hard to figure out. But I never thought there would be so many. Is that what you have been doing all this year? Destroying them?”

Harry nodded

“But how did you...?” Suddenly something clicked in his mind. “The Gryffindor sword... That's what you needed it for.”

“It absorbed the basilisk's poison.” Harry explained.

Snape ran a hand over his face, looking very tired.

“Thank you for giving it to us, by the way.”

Snape pulled his hand away and watched him. It was a curious expression, as if he were looking for the trap in Harry's words. But the boy meant it with complete sincerity. Obtaining that sword had been key to their mission. Being able to destroy the Horcruxes had been a much-needed boost of positivity for the three friends. Besides, he still remembered Snape's Patronus and the feeling of familiarity he felt when he saw it. The doe had made him feel safe and secure, and though he hadn't known why then, he understood now.

“Actually,” Harry continued, “I wanted to thank you for everything you've done. For the magical world, but especially for me.” He had wanted to say that ever since he had looked at Snape's memories.

“Potter...” It was only one word, but it caught Harry's attention.

He had heard Snape say his name with hatred or anger, but never like this. This time, his voice was full of guilt and sadness. Looking into his face, Harry could see the weariness of a man who had lived for thousands of years.

“You shouldn't thank me.” He said finally.

“Of course, I should!” That had angered Harry. “You have put yourself in danger over and over again for years without anyone knowing about it. I've seen your memories, I've seen everything you’ve done, so I know perfectly well...”

“You know nothing!” Snape had raised his voice and it sounded hoarse and raspy. “If you have seen my memories, then you should understand why I don't deserve your gratitude. I killed your parents, Potter.” He spat, trying to hurt Harry, trying to make him hate him as much as Snape hated himself. “I've been a Death Eater, I've done horrible things. I still would be one if it wasn't for that stupid prophecy! Do you think I would have cared about you if you were not the son of who you are? Do you think I would have protected you if you weren't ‘the famous Harry Potter’?”

That hurt, Harry had to admit. He felt like snapping back, like shouting at him and agreeing with everything that he had said. Telling him that he was a soulless Death Eater and that he deserved everything bad that had happened to him. He wanted to flee the room and never see the man who had caused so much misfortune in his life ever again. Once upon a time he would have done it. But Harry had matured, he had grown up and learned a lot. And, above all, he had lost. And he had had enough. Snape may have wanted Harry to leave him alone, but he wasn't about to.

So, he took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat, and said:

“‘Lately, only those whom I could not save’.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Snape looked up at him blankly.

“It's something you said. Dumbledore asked you how many men and women you had seen die. And you replied, ‘Lately, only those whom I could not save’.”

Snape was speechless, and Harry took the opportunity to continue.

“I have seen your memories,” he repeated, “so I know that everything you have said is a lie. I do not believe it. Not for a moment. You tried to save Lupin and Charity Burbage. You protected Ginny, Neville and Luna this past year. You have kept me and my friends safe who knows how many times. You even stopped Draco from having to kill Dumbledore. And that's not even counting the number of lives you must have saved thanks to your role as a spy.”

Snape shook his head, trying to deny it. Any other time he would have answered, but he was tired. Tired of fighting and pushing people away. He was exhausted. So, he kept silent.

“Besides, no matter what kind of man you were twenty years ago, you have changed. I saw it in your memories. How you told Phineas Nigellus not to use the word ‘mud-blood’. And, for what it's worth, I also found out about Dumbledore, about his past. He, too, once believed in magical supremacy.”

Though he hid it well, Harry could see the interest in Snape's features.

“That's right.” He continued. “He did once, and then he became the Muggles' greatest advocate.”

“I am not Albus Dumbledore.” said Snape, frowning.

“No, you are not. But you both changed your minds. You both put your misguided ideas behind you, and in the end, you were instrumental in saving the magical world.”

Snape shook his head again and looked away.

“As far as I'm concerned,” Harry continued, “I think that even without the Prophecy, you would have given up on the Death Eaters in the end.”

“Potter... Do not talk about things you don't know anything about.” Snape muttered, very seriously.

“You're right, I don't know what you were like when you were young... But my mother did.”

That made Snape look him straight in the eyes, and Harry saw such pain in his that he had to look away.

“She saw something good in you, she was your friend for years.” he said, despite everything. “And even if I did not know her well, I trust her judgement.”

He finished speaking and waited. He was aware that so many years of loneliness, pain, and self-hatred had taken their toll on Snape, but he hoped that his words would resonate with the man.

Several seconds passed in silence, but Snape said nothing. So, finally, Harry decided to speak again.

“Look, I realize that our relationship has never been easy.” He said. “But now that I know the truth, I would like to.... I don't know, come to some sort of truce? Try to get along as amicably as possible?”

This caused Snape to snort sarcastically, but Harry took it as a good sign. After all, he hadn't shouted at him to leave the room.

“I'm here.” Madam Pomfrey said from the door, startling them both. Harry had almost forgotten about her.

She placed the potions and fresh bandages on the table and turned to Harry.

“Mr. Potter? I thought you had gone to your room.”

“Eh…”

“I told him to stay.” Snape explained. “I had some questions.”

Madam Pomfrey's eyes twinkled.

“Has he answered them yet?”

“He has. Most of them, anyway.” Snape said, though Harry would have liked to say otherwise. His conversation with Snape wasn't over yet.

“Well, then I must ask you to leave the room.”

Harry alternated a hesitant glance between Snape and Madam Pomfrey. He had grown accustomed to spending hours in that place, and now that the Professor had woken up, he wasn't sure when he would be able to return.

“Severus will sleep until late with the potions I've given him.” The nurse said with a small smile. “It's almost dawn, Potter. Go to bed. You can visit Professor Snape again after lunch, once he's awake.”

The man wanted to reply, but before he could, Harry nodded. Knowing he could come back made him smile. He bent down to pick up his bag and, before heading out the door, he turned once more.

“We still have some things I would like to talk about, Professor. I'll come back later.” He said. “Good night.”

And he closed the door before Snape could answer.

---

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Poppy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're no good at lying. You knew perfectly well that Potter was still here. I may still be weak but I'm not an idiot; it doesn't take that long to fetch a couple of potions and some bandages.”

Madam Pomfrey was silent as she removed the used bandages and applied the new ones. When she had finished, she stepped back a little and looked at Snape gravely.

“The poor boy has been here for days. It took his friends a while to convince him to leave you alone, even for a moment. I wasn't going to deny him the chance to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Snape said nothing.

“Look, Severus... We have known each other for years, but at the same time I get the feeling I don't know anything about you. Potter said something about your loyalties. When he was confronting You-Know-Who. He explained that you have always been on our side... I don't know how, but now he knows you better than most of us. And that has made him care about you. The boy has already lost a lot of people, it's only natural he'd want to hold on to the few he has left. Don't push him away, Severus.”

Those words caused Snape to close his eyes and turn his head in the opposite direction, ending the conversation. That was the last thing he needed. After all these years it was ridiculous to imagine a friendly relationship between him and Potter. Suddenly, something said by the nurse made him open his eyes and turn around again.

“Wait. You said: ‘he has already lost a lot of people’.” Repeating that sentence made his blood run cold. “Who? How many died in the battle?”

Before being attacked by Nagini, Snape had been able to watch the fight from the castle grounds. He couldn't tell the number of casualties, but from the explosions and the screams, he was sure there had been many.

“A lot, Severus.” Madam Pomfrey said grimly. “There's a list that appeared in the Prophet, I'll bring it to you later. It lists all the victims, both on one side and the other. Potter insisted.” She added, seeing the look on Snape's face. “And Minerva agreed. But I suppose you will want to know the names of those you knew best.”

Snape prepared himself for the worst but nodded.

“Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley...” Her voice trembled as she listed the victims, and with each name, Snape could feel a new stabbing in his chest. “I'm sorry, Severus...”

Snape didn't know how to react to that. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to undo the lump in his throat. He thought of Lupin, the young boy who had done nothing when his friends tormented him. The man who had thanked him time and time again as he brewed his wolfsbane potion. Another member of the Order, just like him. Always polite, even if Snape hated that politeness. The last of the Marauders. Someone Snape had come to respect. For whom he had almost revealed his true loyalties by protecting him from a Death Eater's attack.

Silent tears fell down his cheeks and Snape did nothing to stop them. What was the point? It no longer mattered to show weakness. A lifetime of hiding his emotions had brought him nothing but misfortune.

He kept thinking of the victims. Of Tonks, so young, who had been his student. Always joking, bumping into everything, so much that it was annoying. But smart and cheerful, trying to include Snape when the others wouldn't. He had heard that she and Lupin had recently become parents. That hurt him even more. Another war orphan, like Potter once was. History was repeating itself.

And finally, the Weasley boy. Snape had hurt the other brother without meaning to. He remembered it well. When he saw the blood gushing from George's head, he had to make an effort not to fall off the broom he was flying on. Back then, he had pictured the whole family gathered around the boy. Molly and Arthur worried and angry, the siblings looking after him and joking to make him feel better. And now one of them was dead. The lump in his throat tightened at the thought of what Arthur and Molly must have been going through. Lily had died to protect her son. He was sure that, if someone had given them the choice, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have done it too.

“Severus?” Asked Madam Pomfrey, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Snape took a moment to answer, but finally nodded.

“Yes... Yes, I am.”

“I am sorry. “The healer said again. “It's not easy, I know.”

“I'm tired, Poppy.” Snape said suddenly, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

“Of course... It is normal.”

She picked up the first potion and held it to his lips.

“Here you go.”

Snape turned away.

“You don't have to give them to me, I can do it myself.”

Madam Pomfrey hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.

“Alright.”

She put the potions back on the table.

“I'm sorry, Poppy.” Snape forced himself to say, immediately regretting his rudeness. “I did not mean to be ungrateful.”

“It's okay, I understand.” She smiled sadly. “When you wake up, let me know, all right?”

Snape nodded, as she walked towards the door.

“I'm going to lie down for a while too.” She said, opening it. “Rest, Severus. Merlin knows you have earned it.”

When Madam Pomfrey left the room, Snape let out a sigh. He had not been awake for more than an hour, but he was already exhausted. He had a lot to think about, and he knew that when he did manage to fall asleep, his dreams would not be pleasant ones. He picked up the potions from the table and looked at them carefully. He drank first the one that replenished the blood he had lost and then the one that helped his wounds heal. Then he took the last vial between his fingers. It was a potion that allowed him to sleep without dreaming, preventing nightmares for those who drank it. Though he was grateful for the healer's gesture, he could not drink it.

He bent with effort to pick up his wand from the table. He supposed they must have found it next to his unconscious body. He was glad he had not lost it.

“Evanesco.” he whispered, and the potion disappeared.

He placed the empty vial back on the table and lay down on the bed. He was aware that he had just condemned himself to an unpleasant sleep, but he didn't care. He owed it to those who had not made it. He didn't deserve to sleep peacefully while they had died, and he was still there. If he could trade his fate with any of the victims, he would do so without hesitation. Once the war was over, he felt he no longer had a purpose to follow. But Snape had learned, much to his regret, that nothing can change the past. So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment: close his eyes and, once managed to fall asleep, dream.

---

In the dormitory of the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was still awake. Ron was snoring next to his bed, and Hermione was sleeping next to him. After spending so many months together, it felt strange for the three of them to be apart. So, Hermione had decided to break the rules and use the bed of one of the seventh-year boys who had come home after the battle. No one had noticed, or at least they hadn't complained, and Harry was grateful for it. He slept more peacefully knowing that two of the most important people in his life were safe. And he also felt more protected, lying next to them. In that moment, however, he was still awake. He was staring at the ceiling, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the curtains from the window. His conversation with Snape had given him much to think about. He replayed it in his mind, thinking of things he could have said and things he should not have. Finally, he realized that it didn't matter if it hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped: Snape was alive, and he could talk to him a thousand more times if he wanted to. That was if the professor did not finish him off first, he thought with a sleepy smile.

Slowly, sleep had begun to take its toll on him. Before he fell asleep, however, he realized that he felt safer and more optimistic than he had in a long time. For the first time he could think about the future, and though there were still many wounds to heal and a long road ahead, he was excited and hopeful for what it had to offer. He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander until he fell asleep.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

The voice came from somewhere over his head, but to the boy, still half asleep, it sounded far away.

“Harry?” The voice repeated. “Did something happen?”

The tone of concern finally woke him up and made him open his eyes. The sunlight streaming in from the window dazzled him and caused him to close them again immediately.

“Ron? What...?”

“I asked you if something had happened. To Snape, I mean. You slept here instead of in the infirmary. And you didn't wake us up so we could go in your place.”

“Oh...” Harry sat up slowly, trying to keep the cold air out of the sheets.

Ron and Hermione stood beside him, looking at him with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. That set Harry's brain in motion, causing images of the previous day to flood his mind.

“Actually, something did happen.” He said, smiling. “He woke up. I didn't tell you because it happened in the middle of the night, and you guys needed to rest. But yes, he woke up.” He repeated, and his smile widened.

“Oh! That's very good news!” Hermione said, smiling. “I'm so happy for that, I really am.”

She had seated on the bed, next to Harry, and the boy could see her eyes sparkling.

“It is great news.” Agreed Ron, with a big smile. “Brilliant, I would say.” He had been waiting to hear that Snape had woken up since the moment he had found him laying in the Shrieking Shack. “So, how is he feeling? Is he all right?”

Harry nodded, moved by his friends’ reaction.

“Well, tell us what happened. Did you talk to him?”

“Yes, I spoke to him. Although I'm not quite sure if it went well or not…”

He began to explain what happened, while his friends listened in silence.

“... and well, that's all there was to it. It was late and he needed his rest. What do you think?”

Ron was quiet for a few moments, putting his thoughts in order.

“Considering this is Snape we're talking about,” he said finally, “I think the conversation could have gone a lot worse.”

That made Harry smile.

“Yeah, you're right.”

“I usually am.” Ron teased him. “But seriously, don't worry if it wasn't the perfect reunion. We all know what Snape's like... And I don't think living through a war has made him any nicer.”

Hermione nodded.

“I agree with Ron. Besides, it was only the first conversation. Give it time.”

“Exactly.” Ron continued, confidently. “Just think that being bitten by a snake isn't a very pleasant experience. I'm sure his wounds were still hurting, and he was feeling a bit lost. Try going again today and you'll see how it goes well.”

Harry felt better after hearing those words.

“Thank you” He said genuinely. “Actually, I'd already thought about going again: Madam Pomfrey said I could do it after lunch. So, I hope you're right and everything goes better this time.”

“As I said,” Ron reminded him with a smile, “I usually am.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him, but the smirk stayed on his face.

“Now, can we get dressed and go have breakfast? My guts are growling.”

Hermione put up an arm like she used to do in class when she wanted to say something.

“I was actually thinking of going to Hagrid's.” She told them. “Would you like to have breakfast there?

“Hermione.” Ron looked at her in horror. “Have you forgotten his cakes that feel and taste like stone? We can't eat anything he cooks.”

“Of course, we can't” She said, like it was obvious. “Hagrid told me yesterday that he'd fixed up his hut and wanted to show it to us. My plan was to grab a couple of sandwiches from the kitchens before we went and eat them there.”

Ron weighed those words, remembering that Hagrid's house had been destroyed during the battle.

“Okay, sounds good. But let's make it more than just a couple of sandwiches, eh?”

Smiling at his friend's appetite, Harry finally got out of bed.

“That sounds like a great idea,” he said as he did so, “but I've got to take a shower. Meet me in the kitchens in twenty minutes?”

He began searching through his chest, trying to find all the clothes that he needed.

“Perfect. But make sure you take a jacket.” Hermione suggested, looking out of the window. “Even if it's sunny it's still cold.”

“Yes, you're right, thank you.” Harry picked up a coat from the bottom of the chest and turned around to face his friends. “Right, I think I've got everything. See you in a bit in the kitchens. Don't be late!”

---

After twenty minutes, already dressed and with his hair still damp, Harry joined his friends in the Hogwarts kitchens. He remembered how strange it had felt the first time he had entered them after the Battle: something as normal as the bubbling pots and the boiling of the oil felt out of place in the middle of the silent, shattered castle. Still, the survivors had needed to recover from the fighting and eat something urgently after the effort and energies expended during the battle. So, the house elves had quickly returned to the kitchens and had set to work to provide the food that everyone required.

Since then, Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of pain every time he watched them, remembering Dobby and all that his friend had done for him. If the war had ended well, it was largely thanks to the brave house elf.

“Do you want these from here?”

Ron's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Uh?”

“The sandwiches, Harry. Would you like these ones here?”

His gaze fell on the tray Ron was pointing to. On it there were some ham and cheese sandwiches. They looked and smelled amazing, and his stomach growled at the sight of them.

“I'll take that as a yes.” Smiled Ron, taking and putting them in a paper bag that already contained his and Hermione's.

Harry wondered where she had gone, since he didn’t remember her leaving. Before he could ask Ron, though, he looked around and saw her.

“Would you like something sweet as well?” Hermione asked them, showing them what she had been carrying in her hands. “I found these chocolate muffins. They look good.”

“They look more than good!” Nodded Ron appreciatively, looking at the little pieces of chocolate on top of the muffin. “Would you like one, Harry?”

“Uh? Yeah, yeah, they are okay.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

“Is something wrong?” She asked. “You've been distracted since we came in.”

“No, nothing's wrong.” Harry lied, biting his lip. “It's just... I was thinking about Dobby. I can almost see him there, with the other elves.”

That caused Hermione to lower her head with sadness and Ron to get closer to Harry, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It will probably happen to us for a while.” He said, his eyes filled with pain. “And not just with Dobby, but with the others as well. There are days when I keep seeing Fred out of the corner of my eye.” He admitted. “I know it sounds strange, but it's comforting. It's like a part of them is still here.”

Those words made Harry think of the Resurrection Stone. He had been able to see his parents, Sirius, and Remus, one last time. Even got to say goodbye to them. But Ron hadn't had that small comfort and, for a moment, he was tempted to tell him about it. He knew the stone was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, near the place where he had given himself to Voldemort, ready to die. If he wanted to, it would not be too difficult to find it again. But he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. It might be unfair and even cruel, but Ron had never been known for his mental fortitude and Harry didn't want to risk losing him in the pale reflection of his loved ones.

So, instead, he swallowed and nodded slowly.

“I understand what you're saying. It's sad, but it helps in a way.”

“It happens to me too.” Hermione confessed. “The other day, one of those healers from St. Mungo's passed by me, the one with the pink hair. My mind automatically flashed back to Tonks, and I swear I could see her face in that girl's for a couple of seconds.”

“Merlin...” Ron ran his hand over his face. “We're a mess. Good thing we can at least understand each other.”

“That's true.” Said Hermione, the sadness in her eyes replaced by affection. Knowing that the others went through the same things as her helped a lot.

Harry watched them, still thinking about Dobby, but feeling a little better. Ron caught his gaze and gave a hint of a smile.

“Come on, cheer up, Harry. I don't feel like being sad today. I've had enough of it.” He said with determination, pushing away all the depressing thoughts that had being going through his mind. “Let's stop thinking about these things and enjoy the day. It's sunny and we have good food for breakfast.”

Hermione put the muffins inside the bag and nodded.

“I think you are right, Ron. I’m tired of feeling sad all the time too. So a bit of happiness and optimism would be nice.”

He smiled at her.

“I'm glad. Because you'll see: today will be a good day.” He turned to face Harry, who had been looking at them without saying a word. “What do you think?”

The boy could see the effort his friends were making, trying to boost their morale, and decided to not disagree with them. After all, if anyone deserved a bit of happiness, it was the three of them. Perhaps, for now, they could only get obtain it that way: by not letting sadness win for a few hours and by stubbornly trying to find joy wherever it hid. But Harry hoped that in time it would get easier.

So, he nodded and gave a small smile.

“All right.” He said. “Let's have a good day.”

Surprisingly, that morning was one of the best Harry had had in a long time. The familiarity of sitting in Hagrid's hut with Ron and Hermione, catching up and chatting about unimportant things, helped him relax and stop thinking.

The time passed quickly and pleasantly until, when it was almost lunchtime, Hagrid asked them about their plans for the future.

“I'm going back to Hogwarts in September to finish my remaining year.” Hermione explained. “But first Ron and I are going to Australia to bring my parents back. I erased their memories of me so that they would be safe from the Death Eaters.” She added, meeting Hagrid's questioning gaze.

The half-giant's eyes widened in surprise at that information, but he made no comment.

“What about you, Harry?” He asked then, looking at the boy.

“I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest.” That was a lie, of course. Harry had thought a lot about his future, but the truth was that he wasn't sure what to do with it. “For now, I'm going to stay at Hogwarts until most of the wounded recover and things settle down a bit at the Ministry. I don't want to leave and have to go back to talk to some politician or give my version of what happened during the Battle.” He shook his head tiredly. “And after that... maybe I could go back to Grimauld Place to tidy it up a bit. Or come back next year like Hermione, too. I don't know, really.”

Hagrid nodded.

“Don't worry about that, you've still got time.” He smiled. “And you know that, whatever happens, you'll always have a place in my hut. You could be my assistant if I ever teach Care of Magical Creatures again. You were good at it.”

Harry couldn't help smiling at him.

“We'll see what happens, but I appreciate it. By the way, is Buckbeak all right? I saw him fighting Voldemort's giants.”

After wincing at the name, Hagrid nodded.

“Yes, he's fine. I've left him free to come and go from the Forbidden Forest as he pleases. He's a clever Hippogriff and knows how to stay out of trouble. Besides, he and Grawp have become friends, it seems, and he visits him in his cave from time to time” He smiled warmly. “Poor Grawp suffered some injuries during the fight, but he's strong and has almost recovered. I've been to see him a couple of times since then and he is doing alright.”

“I was going to ask you about him too.” Said Harry, remembering Hagrid's huge half-brother. “I'm glad he's okay.”

“Yeah, we've been very lucky. More than most…” He muttered, then realized Ron was there and shut up immediately. “Anyway,” he said quickly, awkwardly changing the subject, “those are very good plans you've got going on. I hope everything goes well and that you enjoy your summer. You've earned it.”

The three friends thanked him for his words, but the reminder of Fred's loss lingered in the air. Harry couldn't help but notice that there was one part of their plans that none of them had mentioned. The reason why Ron and Hermione hadn't left for Australia yet, despite the girl wanting to join her parents as soon as possible. The reason the three of them were still at Hogwarts instead of back at the Burrow. That reason was that Fred's funeral had not yet taken place.

Only a week had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, since that night when the young Weasley had been killed along with so many others like Remus and Tonks, but for Harry it had been much longer. In fact, it wasn't that much time had passed, but that somehow it had come to a standstill for the boy. Harry had built a small fortress in the infirmary, next to Snape's bed, and had taken refuge in it. There, focusing his energy on the concern he felt for the Professor's health and spending his time reading library books, it had been easy not to think about what had happened. However, now that Snape had woken up and Fred's funeral was closer than ever, Harry couldn't ignore it.

He was aware that both Ron and Hermione had been through something similar. Perhaps that was why Ron had decided not to return to the Burrow with the rest of his family. It was easier to be at Hogwarts, searching for a long-lost normality. Harry knew that, while he had clung to Snape like a lifeline to keep his mind off everything that had happened; Ron and Hermione were focusing on their new relationship, on those feelings of joy and affection that were so different from the wrenching pain of loss. But those shelters were slowly cracking, and reality was on the other side of them.

Lost on these thoughts, Harry was vaguely aware that Hagrid was still talking, and suddenly he couldn't stand it any longer.

“I have to go see Snape.” He said, rising to his feet.

The others stared at him in surprise.

“I told him yesterday that I'd stop by around lunchtime and finish explaining everything. I'm sorry...”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance but nodded.

“Don't worry, Harry; we'll stay here a bit longer. When you're done, let us know.” Hermione said, pointing to the D.A. coin.

Hagrid, who was still looking at him with some surprise, reassured him as well.

“It's all right.” He said genuinely. “I understand you have other responsibilities. It was good to see you, Harry.”

He leaned over to give him a hug and Harry hugged him back, feeling guilty.

“Say hi to Snape for me.” Added the half-giant. “Tell him I'm glad to hear he's awake.”

“I will.” Harry promised, opening the door and stepping out of the hut.

When he was at a considerable distance, he began to run.

---

And he didn't stop running, trying to outrun the pain and the thoughts that threatened to drown him, until he reached the infirmary. As soon as he entered, he felt a little better, although his heart was still pounding too hard. Almost without thinking, his legs carried him straight to the room where Snape was.

“Potter?”

Madam Pomfrey, standing by Snape's gurney, was looking at him with confusion. Next to her, reclining on a pair of cushions and holding a bowl in his hands, was Snape himself.

“Potter, I said you could come after lunch.” The healer told him. “That means in the afternoon.”

Harry took a closer look and saw that Madam Pomfrey had a spoon in her hand and that the bowl Snape was holding was filled with what appeared to be pumpkin soup. One part of his mind wondered if the Professor was too weak to eat on his own. The other part was suddenly aware that he had entered the room without even knocking, that he was breathing heavily, and that his face was red with the effort of having run all the way from Hagrid's house.

“Poppy,” said Snape suddenly, “you can go. Potter will feed me in your place.”

Harry, still pinned in place, looked at Snape in panic but said nothing.

“Severus...”

“You said I needed help to eat and, lo and behold, a volunteer has turned up.” Snape cut her off. “I am sure you have more important duties than watching me eat. I assure you Potter is fully capable of lifting a spoon. It's not that difficult.”

Madam Pomfrey watched him for a few moments, but in the end, she sighed with defeat.

“As you wish, Severus... But you'd better finish that whole bowl. Or I'll get really angry.”

“Of course.” He lied.

Madam Pomfrey set the spoon down on the bedside table and, with a final exasperated sigh, left the room.

“Potter, sit down.”

Harry stared at him, a little confused.

“Sit down.” Snape repeated, though his tone had softened slightly.

Still breathing heavily, Harry did as he was told. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Snape placed the bowl of soup on the small table, next to the spoon, but his head was spinning so he had to close his eyes.

“Breathe, Potter. I don't want you to pass out on me.”

Harry felt he was about to do so, and he forced himself to focus on the feeling of the chair under his palms and Snape's deep voice as he continued to speak to him, even if he couldn't understand every word.

“...like this. Good. Take a deep breath.”

Seconds passed, until Harry's heart steadied, and he could finally open his eyes.

“Okay, I'm better now.” He said. “I'm sorry, I don't know what..”

His face turned red again, though this time in embarrassment.

“No, Potter. I don't want to hear an excuse. I'm not interested in that.”

Harry swallowed, not quite sure what to say.

“What I want to know is what the hell happened.”

“I don't know...”

“You don't know?”

“No... I mean, yes. But...”

“Potter.”

Harry fiddled with his fingers, not quite sure what to say.

“I know what happened. But... but it's not something you need to worry about, sir.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Considering you turned up on my doorstep, red and sweaty, I'd say it is something I need to worry about.”

Harry wanted to keep quiet, but he knew Snape required an explanation. One look at him was enough to understand that he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. So, against his own wishes, he took a deep breath and said:

“We were in Hagrid's hut. Ron, Hermione and I. We were talking...”

He looked at Snape, unsure.

“Go on.”

Harry swallowed.

“I don't know what happened.” He confessed. “But I suddenly started thinking about things I didn't want to think about and... And, I don't know, I had to get out of there.”

“Did you run all the way from Hagrid's hut to here?”

Harry thought it was odd that Snape was asking him about that part of the story and not 'the things he didn't want to think about', but he nodded.

“No wonder you were about to faint.”

“I wasn't going to faint.”

“Of course not, Potter.” Snape cut him off. “Now tell me: why here?”

“Uh?”

“The infirmary. My room. Why? Were you looking for Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry avoided his eyes.

“No... Actually… I was looking for you.”

Snape was speechless.

“Me?”

“Yes...”

“Why?”

Harry kept his gaze on the floor.

“I don't know.”

“Why, Potter?” Snape insisted.

“I don't know!” Almost screamed Harry. “I know it's strange, but... I don't know, I feel safe here.” He admitted.

“You feel safe here.” Snape repeated, causing Harry to instantly regret saying it.

“Forget it, it was a mistake to come.” He said, standing up. “I'll get Madam Pomfrey so she can help you with the soup. Have a good meal, Professor.”

Snape looked at him with obvious confusion on his face.

“Potter, wait. Hold on a second.”

Harry turned to face him.

“Look, Potter. I'm... I'm a bit lost.” He confessed.

The boy stared at him in surprise. It wasn't like Snape to show his feelings like that.

“Sit down again.” He said. “We need to talk.”

Harry did as he was told and waited, while Snape sorted out his thoughts.

“All right,” the man began, choosing his words carefully, “it's clear that a lot has happened since I passed out. I'm not talking about the end of the war or the Dark Lord's defeat, though I am interested to know exactly what happened, and I hope you will finish explaining what you started yesterday.”

“I will.” Harry promised, not quite sure what Snape was getting at.

The Professor nodded and continued speaking.

“Well. What I want to say is that, obviously, a lot has changed since the Dark Lord... attacked me. And from what I've seen since I woke up, you've been assimilating the new information I gave you in the Shrieking Shack during that time, haven't you?”

“You mean your memories?”

Snape nodded.

“Yes, precisely.”

That caused Harry to frown.

“You regret giving them to me, don't you?” He said, with pain in his voice.

“What? How on earth did you come to that conclusion, Potter? No. If I gave you my memories at the time, it was because I had to. And I don't regret giving them to you. It was crucial that you knew the truth about Dumbledore's plan.”

“But it wasn't just that truth that I needed to know.” Said Harry, still upset.

“What do you mean?”

“You gave me more than just the information I needed to defeat Voldemort. You also taught me about your own life. Because you wanted me to see the kind of person you really are.”

“Potter...”

“Don't deny it.”

Snape closed his eyes tightly.

“I...” He sighed and opened his eyes again. “Damn it, Potter. I'm not good at this sort of thing.”

“I know. I've seen your memories, remember?” teased Harry, trying to help the professor relax. “But I didn't think you'd hate the idea of me knowing the truth so much. After all, it was you who gave them to me.”

Snape glared at him with his black eyes.

“It's not that I hate that you know the truth about me. It's just that...” He sighed, trying to find a way to explain himself. “The last time we saw each other before the Battle, do you remember when that was? About a year ago.”

Harry's mind took him back to one of the worst nights of his life: a bolt of green light striking Dumbledore right in his chest, the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower, hatred pounding in his temples as he screamed spells that were deflected again and again.

“Yes, I remember. The night Dumbledore died.”

“The night I killed Dumbledore.” Snape corrected him. “The night you chased me around Hogwarts and tried to hit me with the Cruciatus Curse. As well as using my own spells on me.”

Harry bit his lip, remembering Snape's demented, furious face as he called him a coward. The horror of discovering he was the Half-Blood Prince. It all seemed so far away.

“I'm sorry.” He apologized. “But in my defense, I hated you even more than I hated Voldemort that night.”

Snape tried to hide a grimace.

“I understand, Potter, but that brings us to my point. That was the last time we met. At least before the Battle. By the way,” he said with curiosity on his face, “tell me what you and your friends were doing in the Shrieking Shack.”

“What does this have to do with...?”

“Patience, Potter. I'm trying to explain my thought process. Or is it being too complicated for you?”

“No.” Harry sighed. “Alright. We went looking for Nagini because it was the last remaining Horcrux. As I told you yesterday, Voldemort created seven, but at that point only the snake remained.”

“And you.” Said Snape softly.

“And me…” Muttered Harry, somewhat uncomfortably. “The thing is, I could see where Voldemort was through our mental connection, so we went looking for him. Him and the snake.”

“That was completely stupid.” Snape reprimanded him, but with less malice than usual.

“I know. But Fred… It had just happened. And neither of us wanted to think about it too much.”

Snape said nothing, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Anyway,” continued Harry, “we went all the way to the Shrieking Shack and got there just in time to...”

“To see it all.”

It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded.

“It was one of the most horrible things I've ever seen in my life.” the boy admitted, shuddering. “I'm really sorry that happened to you.”

Snape swallowed and brought a hand to his neck, brushing at the scars the fangs had left behind. He didn’t want to think too much about it, but he appreciated Harry’s words.

“It's all right, Potter. Continue. Tell me why you approached me. There was no rational reason for it. Though I’ll admit that it was lucky that you did.”

“I... I don't know why, really. I guess no one deserved to have that done to them. I hated you a lot this year, but I didn't want you to die like that.”

Snape blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure. Remembering those moments was affecting him more than he wanted to admit.

“Well,” he said, changing the topic, “I suppose then you took my memories to Dumbledore's Pensieve and from there you knew what you had to do, didn't you?”

Harry nodded, thinking about what had happened that night.

“Yes, Voldemort gave me an hour to give myself up. That's how I had time to look at the memories and go meet him.”

“Did you?”

Something in Snape’s voice made Harry stare at him with curiosity. He couldn’t quite make it out but, if it wasn’t impossible, he would have said that there had been a trace of appreciation in his tone.

“There was no point in not doing it. I had to die either way. And if I gave myself up, I could save the others. So… I did.”

Snape stared at him with a new respect. Potter had mentioned something similar the day before, but his mind had only just woken up, so it hadn't quite sunk in.

“I'm sure it wasn't easy, Potter. You did well.”

Harry stared at him in surprise. That was the first time Snape had ever given him a compliment.

“Thank you, sir. No, it wasn't easy.” He admitted. His heart, which had been filled with dread and beating faster than normal from thinking about that night, slowed down after listening to Snape’s words. If anyone could comprehend the weight of the sacrifice that he had been willing to make, it was him. “Although, you also did something like this.” He told him, trying to show him that he also understood. “When Voldemort called, you went without hesitation, knowing that he was probably going to kill you. And all so as not to arouse suspicion. And all so Dumbledore’s plan could end its course. That must have been extremely hard too.”

Snape looked at him in a strange way that made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable.

“What?”

“This is why I said I was a bit lost.”

“What do you mean?”

He was still looking at him in that way that made him feel so exposed, like he was trying to solve a very complicated riddle or put together the pieces of a puzzle.

“Think about everything we've talked about, Potter.”

“I am, sir.”

“Well, unfortunately, it seems like I will have to explain it to you step by step” Snape said irritably, though Harry noticed a hint of nervousness in his voice. He knew that the professor wasn’t used to explaining his feelings to anyone. “Do not interrupt me and listen carefully. I won't repeat myself.”

Harry remained silent, waiting.

“The last time we met, you hated me and thought I was a coward. So that was going to be the way you would remember me in case I died. Which, being a double spy, was more than likely.” He said calmly. “In the Shrieking Shack, I thought I was going to die. And that's why I gave you my memories.”

Harry nodded; he knew all of that.

“But yes, you're right. I showed you more memories than absolutely necessary.” Snape admitted. “I wanted you to see me as I am, Potter. If I was going to die then, I needed to know that at least one person would know the truth. But” he added, “the plan was never to survive. I was convinced I was going to die there. I didn't think that I would see you again. And suddenly, I open my eyes and find you waiting in my room. And I discover that you don't hate me, but that you feel safe here? It's a strange situation for me, Potter. I have to admit it.” He confessed, with visible discomfort.

Harry was silent for a few moments, assimilating everything that he had said and choosing his words carefully.

“I understand.” He finally said. “The problem is that you haven't had time to come to terms with everything that's happened, right? And it seems strange to you that I don't hate you anymore.”

“Yes. And no.” Said Snape, for a moment sounding exactly like Dumbledore. “It's not just that, Potter. It's also that I don't understand you anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Snape sighed, getting ready to expose his thoughts again. He was not used to it, and he didn’t think that it would get easier with time, but he needed Potter to understand what he was saying. He looked at him, stared into those green eyes to remind himself why he was doing it, and said:

“Look, Potter. My problem is that, for years, I have been able to foresee your actions, to know how you were going to react. Obviously, sometimes you acted so stupidly and recklessly that it was impossible to predict...” Snape added with irritation, letting go some of his frustration. “But, overall, I knew what kind of person you were and why you did one thing or the other. Now, however, I don't know what to expect from you.

Harry looked at him, unsure what to say.

“I've had a lot of time to think during this year.” Snape continued. “To reflect. I've gone over my memories hundreds of times, looking for something that Dumbledore or I might have missed. Trying to find a mistake in the plan or some miracle that would allow you to survive. And all of that has made me realize that maybe I didn't judge you as I should have.” He admitted. “I've seen so many situations where you acted in a way I never anticipated. So many moments where you didn't do what an arrogant, pampered kid was supposed to do... That I started to realize that I was probably wrong. And that I never really understood you at all.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He would never have thought that Snape would admit something like that.

“That's another reason why I gave you my memories.” The Potions Master added. “But if you're not that insolent, spoiled brat, who are you?”

“I'm Harry. Just Harry.” Replied the boy, remembering a time seven years ago when he had said something similar.

Snape, to his surprise, smiled at him. And it wasn't a sarcastic or sinister smile, the kind Harry was used to seeing on the man's face, but one that reminded him of the boy he had seen in his memories. Harry returned it without noticing.

“But yes, I understand what you are saying, sir.” He continued. “You also weren't the person I thought you were. The difference is that I learned that watching your memories. That’s why I haven't found this situation so strange.” Those words began to form an idea in his head, and his eyes lighted up with excitement. “So, it's only fair that I should do the same for you.”

“What do you mean?

Harry stood up, too focused on his thoughts to be able to explain himself.

“Wait here a second.”

“Potter? What are you...?”

“It will only take a second, I promise. I'll be right back.”

---

Snape wanted to reply, but before he could, the boy had left the room.

He stayed for a few seconds in silence, staring at the door, still not understanding what had just happened. Finally, he looked around and saw the bowl of soup on the small table next to his bed. After hesitating for a few moments, he decided that he was going to need all his energy to deal with whatever Potter had planned. So, with an effort, he bent down to pick up the bowl and spoon, cursing under his breath as the movement strained his neck muscles, causing a sharp pain in the area.

Finally, breathing with some difficulty and gritting his teeth, he settled back on the pillows with the plate in his hands.

“Small victories, Severus.” He said to himself, lifting the spoon to his lips.

It wasn't the easiest process of his life, but Snape had been through worse, and he wasn't about to let a bowl of soup defeat him. He continued to eat, slowly and carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements, until he reached the end. He would not admit it in front of anyone, but at the sight of the empty plate he felt a strange sense of pride in his chest.

He put the bowl back on the table, with the resulting pain in his wound, and lay back down on the cushions. He noticed that at least ten minutes had passed, and Potter still hadn't turned up.

“Where the hell are you?” Snape muttered to himself.

---

Harry went up the stairs two steps at a time, anxious to reach his destination. The events at Hagrid's hut no longer troubled him in the same way: he felt much better after talking to Snape and was focused on carrying out the plan that had just occurred to him. He was so deep in thought that he almost didn't see the flight of stairs in front of him move and nearly fell through the gap it had left.

“Guess I'll have to wait.” He sighed to himself, as he saw the ladder move away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin from the D.A. He turned it over a couple of times, unsure, before sending a message to Ron and Hermione.

"I'm fine, sorry I left so quickly."

He wrote, feeling guilty again.

"I'll stay here for a bit. Don't expect me for lunch. H."

The stairs were already back, so Harry climbed on them. When he did, the coin vibrated between his fingers.

"Don't worry. We're fine too, we're still at Hagrid's hut. We'll talk later. Take care of yourself. R & H."

Those words made him smile, even though he still regretted his actions.

"Thank you. You too."

He was aware that his friends deserved an explanation, but he knew they would wait for him to bring the topic up when he was ready. That was something he was grateful for.

In the meantime, the staircase had taken him where he wanted to go, so he hurried to get off before it changed direction again. He continued walking through the corridors of Hogwarts until he found himself in front of a door guarded by a gargoyle. A door he knew all too well.

“Dumbledore.” He said, hoping the password hadn't changed. Luckily, it hadn't, as the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the stairs that led to the Headmaster's old office. When he stood in front of the large wooden door that led to the entrance, he knocked and waited.

“Come in.” Said a voice from inside the room.

Harry opened the door to find Professor McGonagall sitting at the desk, a mountain of papers in front of her and a quill in her hand.

“Potter?”

“Professor McGonagall, sorry to interrupt.”

“Don't worry, I appreciate it.” She smiled, getting up. “I needed a break from all this paperwork. Did something happen?”

“No. Well, yes. It's about Snape.”

“Severus?” Concern filled the teacher's face. “I went to see him this morning and he seemed fine.”

“He is! He is fine.” Harry hurried to clarify.

“Oh, thank goodness. Don't give me these scares, Potter.” She reprimanded gently, putting a hand on her chest. “So, what's the matter?”

“I need to borrow the Pensieve, Professor. If it's not too much trouble.”

“The Pensieve? Severus needs the Pensieve? He woke up yesterday and he's already doing Merlin knows what...” She shook her head.

“Actually, it was my idea.” Harry said, rather sheepishly. “I have a debt to settle with him.”

She didn’t ask what he meant, and he was grateful for that. He trusted Professor McGonagall but there were some things that only concerned Snape and him. She did watch him for a few seconds, though, in silence and, when she was finished, she seemed to have understood a lot of things.

“All right.” She finally said. “It's over there, in that cupboard.”

Harry opened the cabinet she was pointing to. Inside was the Pensieve that he had used to look at Snape's memories. Harry guessed that someone had put it there after he had used it during the Battle. Next to it was also a vial with a white substance inside.

“Are those...?”

“They were inside the Pensive when I entered the office.” Professor McGonagall replied to his unfinished question. “I can assure you that no one has seen them. Not even me.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Snape would have killed him if anyone else had seen his memories.

“Thank you, Professor.” He said, holding the vial against his chest. “As for the Pensive... I'll get it back to you right away.”

“Don't worry about that, Harry.” She said with a tired smile. “You can use it for as long as you need.”

Harry nodded, tucking the little flask of memories into the pocket of his trousers. Then, he bent down to pick up the Pensieve as well. He was surprised to find that it weighed less than it seemed.

“Do you need anything else, Potter?”

“No, that was all. Thank you.”

McGonagall nodded, sitting back down in front of the desk. Harry couldn't help but think of Dumbledore and how many times the old Headmaster had watched him from that very spot, with his half-moon spectacles and sparkling eyes.

“You know, Professor.” He said suddenly. “You are the only one who could fill his shoes.”

He didn't say Dumbledore's name, but she knew who he meant. She looked at him and swallowed; and Harry could see that there were unshed tears behind the glass of her spectacles.

“Thank you, Potter.” She said, with a sad smile. “He would be so proud of you. Of the man you've become.”

‘You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man.’ The words Dumbledore had said to him came to his mind, causing Harry to swallow, moved. He looked up at his Portrait but there was nobody there, he must have left to visit other paintings around the Castle.

“I want to believe he'd be proud of all of us” he said, his voice trembling.

“I'm sure he is.” She whispered. “After all, we achieved what he had worked so hard for. The end of the war.”

Harry nodded, a little overwhelmed.

“I wish he could have seen it.”

“Me too, Harry.” The teacher sighed. “Me too.”

They spent a few moments in silence, remembering. After a while, McGonagall straightened up in her chair and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

“Anyway.... I'd better get back to work, Potter...”

“Yes, you are right.” Harry said, still holding the Pensieve. “Sorry to have distracted you.”

“Not at all, it's always a pleasure to see you.” McGonagall smiled at him sincerely. “You're welcome to come again whenever you like.”

“Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.” Harry replied. “Have a good day, Professor.”

She thanked him for his words with a nod, though her attention was already back on the pile of papers.

“You too, Potter.”

After a final glance around the room, Harry left the office.

Once outside, he held the Pensieve up to his face and looked at it carefully. Memories were something very important, personal, and intimate. Harry knew that, and that was why he appreciated the gift Snape had given him so much. The professor had shown him the key moments of his life, the ones that had transformed him into the man he was today. The happiest days, but also the darkest and most terrible. Harry understood how vulnerable he must have felt knowing that he had seen it all.

By giving him his memories, Snape was saying goodbye to him. He didn't think he would survive and that was why he had been able to show him all that. Now, however, that he was still alive and Harry knew the truth, Snape was in an awkward position. Too exposed for the reserved and surly Potions Master.

And that was why Harry had decided to show him his own memories. He wasn't quite sure if Snape would be willing to see them, but he felt an obligation to offer the same thing that the professor had given him. That way, Harry could repay his debt and Snape would be able to get to know him better and understand the man he had become.

“It's only fair.” He said to himself, running a finger over the magical runes on the Pensieve. “I just hope he doesn't loathe the idea.”

Wanting to find out, he grabbed the Pensieve with both hands, careful not to drop it, and started making his way back to the infirmary.

“Potter, where the hell have you been?”

Snape was looking up from his gurney, a frown on his face and a hint of worry in his dark eyes.

“Sir?” Asked Harry, hurrying to close the door behind him.

“You can't just disappear like that, Potter." the Professor reprimanded him. “If we're having a conversation, a normal person would give an explanation before leaving.”

“I'm sorry, I hadn't thought of that.”

“That's obvious.” Snape muttered.

Harry watched him for a few moments, not quite sure what to say. Finally, he decided to change the subject to avoid an argument.

“I've... I've been to Dumbledore's office, sir. Professor McGonagall's, rather. To get this.”

Snape's eyes focused on the object in Harry's hands.

“The Pensive?”

“That's right." Harry nodded, setting it down carefully on a chair. “And also, this.” He pulled the small pot containing Snape's memories from his pocket and approached the gurney, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I... I wanted to thank you again." He said, holding the vial between them. “And I also wanted to assure you that no one but me has seen these memories. Which makes me feel truly privileged.”

Snape stared at him for a moment. Then, he raised his right hand and picked up the flask carefully. For a few seconds he stood like that, not moving and with the vial in front of his nose, watching as the memories swirled against the glass walls.

“Is that why you brought the Pensieve?” He said, his voice cold as ice. “So I could show you more memories?”

“What?” Harry couldn't believe what he'd just heard. “Of course not! I would never ask you to do that. Unless... Unless you wanted to. But that's not the reason I brought it here."

“What for, then?”

Snape was still looking at him with suspicion in his eyes.

“Because I wanted to show you my memories!” Said Harry, offended. “I wanted to settle this debt I owe you!”

Despite those words, Snape continued to stare at him silently, his eyes narrowed.

“By Merlin... What image do you have of me?” Harry said in disbelief, trying to find an answer in the man's features, but they remained unchanged. “You know what? You're right, you don't know me at all. Did you really think that I believe myself with the right to demand more memories from you? After all you've done for me?” He shook his head, frustrated and saddened. “What I meant to say was that I was honored to have seen them. That was all.”

Snape continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, as Harry made an effort to control his emotions and not storm out of the room. He continued to stand there, trying to take deep breaths while holding Snape's gaze, until the professor raised the hand that wasn't holding the vial.

“Alight, Potter. I believe you. My reaction was... uncalled for, perhaps. I...” he took a deep breath, "I'd like to... apologize. I shouldn't have made that assumption. Okay?”

Harry almost opened his mouth like an idiot in shock. Did Snape just admit that he'd made a mistake? And he had apologized? That must have been a first.

The professor was waiting for an answer, though, so he hurried up to reply.

“Okay.” He said, feeling more surprised than angry.

“Good” Snape nodded. “Now give me a few seconds.”

He leaned over to the bedside table to pick up his wand, while Harry watched him, calmer than before. After leaning back against the pillow, the Potions Master sighed and muttered a few words. Instantly, the memories began to rise from the vial until they formed a silver thread that wrapped around the wand. For a few moments, Snape held them there, staring at them and not moving a muscle. Then he raised them to his temples, letting the memories flow back into his mind while he closed his eyes. It still took him a little longer to open them again, but when he did, it seemed to Harry that there was a gleam of pent-up emotion in them.

“Alright. One less thing." Said Snape finally, setting the wand and the vial down on the table. “Now, would you mind explaining this crazy idea you've had, Potter? Did you say something about showing me your memories?”

At that question, Harry's nervousness returned. Suddenly, he was transported back several years, and he felt again that insecurity that came over him every time Snape asked a question during Potions class.

“I... Erm...”

“Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a grown man, that he had defeated the deadliest wizard in recent history, and that his old Potions teacher no longer had any power over him. There was no reason to be intimidated. But then again, that wasn't so easy when Snape was staring at him with those piercing eyes. ‘Bloody dungeon bat,’ thought Harry, not without some affection.

“Yes." He said, despite everything. “That was the idea. It's thanks to your memories that I understand you better and... Well, considering that you said earlier that you don't really know who I am... I thought that, besides being fair, it might help if I showed you my memories. If... if you want to, sir, of course."

He looked up at Snape, worrying that he was going to laugh at him or throw him out of the room, but the teacher was just staring at him in silence, just like he did before. The difference was that the coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a curiosity that Harry knew too well. He was used to it because it had been there, in Snape’s eyes, since the moment he had woken up. He noticed that it showed up every time he did something that Snape didn’t expect him to do.

“If you'd offered me something like that a year ago, Potter, I'd have thought it was a joke.”

“Yes, me too.”

Snape sighed.

“But clearly, things have changed... And, I must admit, I'm a little curious.”

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise, he couldn't believe that Snape was agreeing to his proposal.

“So, yes, Potter. I think it would be a good idea. But," he added, seeing the smile that had spread across the boy's face, "not today.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, not today. I'm tired, and trips to the Pensieve are always tiring. Besides, right now there is another matter that seems more urgent to me.”

“Sir?”

“What happened at Hagrid's hut, Potter. I think we should talk about it.”

The joy Harry had felt at Snape's agreement with his idea diminished considerably when he heard those words.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“I know, Potter. Neither do I.”

“Then why...?”

“Because we have to." Snape cut him off. “Sit down, Potter.”

Harry looked at him with some apprehension but did as he was told.

“There's nothing to talk about.” He said, swallowing with nervousness.

“If there wasn’t, you wouldn't have gotten so defensive.”

“I'm not defensive." Harry replied. “Besides, why do you care? It's not your job to worry about me anymore.”

Snape glared at him, and Harry had to avert his gaze.

“Make no mistake, Potter. I may no longer be your teacher, and we may have reached a certain cordiality. But I won't tolerate any disrespect from you. Understood?”

Harry pressed his teeth together, trying to remind himself that he had wanted just that, to spend time with Snape and to be able to talk to him about important things. He kept telling those words to himself until, slowly, he managed to regain his composure and nod.

“I understand, sir.”

“Good. Because, as I said, we need to talk about what happened this morning. Before, however, I want to make a couple of things clear. First, you're right, I know that it's no longer my job to worry about your safety, but somehow, I still do. I guess it's a hard habit to break after all these years" He said with a sarcastic smile.

“I suppose it is...”

“But it's not just that, Potter. You've seen my memories, so you know I didn't just want to keep you alive so you could defeat the Dark Lord.”

“No. No, it was for my mother, wasn't it?” Said Harry, remembering. “Mostly for her. The fact that I had to take down Voldemort only made things more complicated.”

“Exactly." Snape nodded; a bit uncomfortable with discussing the topic but knowing that it was important that he made himself clear. "For her sake, I have to make sure you're safe. Even now, after the Dark Lord is not a threat anymore. I can't simply ignore your existence. I hope you can understand that.”

“I do. And I'm glad you aren’t, sir…”

Snape looked at him with surprise and also a hint of discomfort. He wasn't used to anyone caring about his attention.

“Well," he cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation, “as I was saying, I can't just ignore you. As much as that displeases me… So, my only alternative is to make sure you stay out of danger. And that means physical threats but also mental ones.”

Despite the taunt, Harry could sense that Snape felt real concern for him. He might conceal it beneath a surface of sarcasm, but the Professor cared about what happened to him. That comforted Harry: perhaps his relationship with Snape was not as one-sided as it seemed.

“I understand." He said, with a small smile.

“I hope so." Snape nodded, seemingly satisfied. “And now, back to what happened in Hagrid's hut…”

Harry wanted to groan but contained himself.

“You said that you 'thought about things you didn't want to think about',” continued Snape, “and that's why you came running here. Because here you feel, eh... safe.”

Harry blushed at those words but nodded with determination. That was the truth, he couldn't deny it. Besides, if Snape had devoted his whole life to keeping him alive, it was only natural that he should feel safe with him.

“Well," Snape continued. “I want to know what those 'things you didn't want to think about' were.”

Harry swallowed and gripped the armrest of the chair, trying to calm himself.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Obviously, Potter. If you don't want to think about it, you don't want to talk about it either. But it's important that you do.

“Why?”

“You know why." said Snape irritably. “So that you don't run away every time someone mentions something you don't want to hear. This is exactly like Occlumency. You need to learn to control your emotions, Potter.”

Harry frowned, suddenly remembering who was in front of him. This was Snape, his most hated teacher, and the least patient person in the Universe. What on earth was he doing, talking to him about feelings and the traumas the war had left him with?

“I don't want to control my emotions, okay? They're part of me. If I didn't have them, I'd be exactly like Voldemort. A being without love or any kind of remorse. Besides,” he said, raising his voice without realizing it, “I don't have to control them! It's perfectly normal to be devastated when you lose people you care about! It's normal to be traumatized when you or your friends are tortured! Or when you live in fear for months, looking behind you all the time because you have a psychopath after you who wants to kill you! Or when you...!

“Potter.”

Harry realized he had been shouting and snapped his mouth shut. He looked at Snape, fearing he had angered the professor, but saw only concern in his gaze.

“Potter. I don't think you understood me. Or maybe... Maybe I didn't make myself clear.” It was obvious how difficult it was for Snape to admit that. “You see, I... I'm not saying that you must give up your feelings. But it is important that you keep them under control, so that they don't control you instead.”

Harry looked at him, still unconvinced, but appreciating the effort Snape was making in trying to explain himself. That had never happened during the failed Occlumency lessons.

“I think I see the problem now," Snape continued, "why you were never able to learn to close your mind to the Dark Lord. You are like an open book: you show every emotion and thought on your face. You show them in your actions and in your words.”

Coming from Snape, that should have been a criticism, but he had said it with such a tone of amazement that Harry wasn't sure if it was a reproach or a compliment.

“If a master Occlumens seeks to hide every feeling; you do just the opposite. And that's how you managed to defeat the Dark Lord at the Ministry. Yes, Dumbledore explained it to me.” He added after seeing the questioning gaze that Harry had sent his way. “You threw all your emotions at him, everything you were feeling at the time. With an intensity he could never have imagined. That must have hurt, no doubt. And that's why he never entered your mind again.”

Harry nodded; he knew all of that. Dumbledore had also told him after Sirius's death.

“It wasn't the traditional method, but it was certainly effective.” Snape continued, his lips curving into something resembling a smile. “But if it had been anyone else and not him, those feelings wouldn't have affected him at all. Or at least they wouldn't have stopped him from digging into your mind.”

“Where are you going with all this, sir?”

Harry had found out that Snape's thoughts were complex and that to follow them he had to pay attention to his lengthy explanations. It was relaxing in a way, and he enjoyed trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together with each new idea the professor added. Still, sometimes he got frustrated at having to wait so long to reach the final conclusion.

“Where am I going with this?” Snape repeated. “I’m trying to make you understand that, although you managed to prevent the Dark Lord from entering your mind, you never actually learned to control yourself. Your emotions were beneficial against him, but now you face an even more dangerous enemy. Those feelings that were once so useful could now drive you mad.”

Harry swallowed hard. He didn't like being told what to do, but Snape seemed to be speaking from experience.

“I... Maybe... Maybe you’ve got a point.” He said after thinking about it for a few seconds. “I don't want to give up my feelings, but it is true that it's not nice when they control me like this.”

“I'm glad you understand and agree with me, Potter. It's the first step. And now..." he said with a gentleness that Harry had never heard from him before, "… could you tell me what happened in Hagrid's hut?”

Harry fiddled with his fingers for a few moments. He wanted to open up to Snape, but at the same time the idea frightened him: talking about certain things could be very painful. Although, he reminded himself, if anyone could understand what he was going through, it was Snape. So could his friends, obviously, but Harry didn't want to worry them or make them suffer by forcing them to remember. No, if he was going to talk to anyone, it had to be the Potions Master.

He took a deep breath and looked up to meet the man's gaze. There had been a time when those black eyes had seemed cold and reminiscent of dark tunnels, but now Harry could see something else in them. Something that comforted him and made him feel safe. Like a Patronus. Like Snape's doe was in the room, calming him with its presence. He focused on those feelings and continued to breathe slowly, holding Snape's gaze. Finally, summoning up all his courage, he nodded:

“Alright, I will tell you.”

“Alright, I will tell you.”

The spark of pride that crossed Snape's features, gave Harry strength to continue speaking.

“Okay... As I said before, we were in Hagrid's hut. Ron, Hermione and I.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue. “Everything was going pretty well until Hagrid mentioned his brother. Well, half-brother. Whatever.” Harry shook his head, impatient. “Grawp. I don't know if you know him.”

“Yes, I know who he is.” Snape replied, not wanting to interrupt him.

“Okay...” The boy nodded. “The thing is, Grawp was injured during the Battle. Fortunately, he's almost recovered and, obviously, I'm very happy about that. The problem is... When I told Hagrid about it, he said that... that they were very lucky.” He closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure. “‘Luckier than most’, he said and... And then I... I...”

Harry's voice had begun to tremble and both Snape and himself had noticed it.

“Potter, take a deep breath.” The professor told him.

“I'm trying.”

His heart was racing, and he didn't like that.

“Don't focus on the emotions, just the facts.” Snape suggested. “Just tell me what happened, don't think about how it made you feel. It's just words and phrases. Nothing more. They can't hurt you if you don't let them.”

That made sense and Harry wanted to believe it was that easy to control himself. But he wasn't succeeding: his pulse kept increasing and his hands were shaking.

“I can't... I can't...”

“Potter.” Snape had leaned over from his gurney to grip his arm tightly. The effort was evident on his face, but so was the concern for the boy. “Look at me, Potter.”

Harry did as he was told. His green eyes met Snape's, and that made him feel better. It didn't quite calm his raging heartbeat, but at least he could hear something more than the pulse in his ears. He continued to breathe deeply, telling himself that he was okay, that he was safe. That they were both okay, that they were safe. Little by little, his hands stopped shaking.

“Words are just that.” He muttered, repeating what Snape had told him. “They can't hurt me if I don't let them.”

“That's right, Potter. That's right.”

As the seconds passed, he regained his composure. Though his body was still tense, bracing itself for whatever happened next.

“Potter?”

“I'm better.”

Snape watched him for a few moments. Then, slowly, he released his arm and lay back down on the pillows.

“I'm sorry about all this.” Harry said, seeing that the man had remained silent. “I'm sorry for making this scene and...”

“Potter.” Snape cut him off. “I knew what I was getting into when I told you to explain what had happened. It is clear to me that this will not be the last time something like this happens... I am aware of that, and while it gives me no pleasure to see you in this state, I have seen worse. A child's panic attack doesn't frighten or impress me. So, stop apologizing.

Harry didn't know whether to frown at the professor's tactlessness or be relieved. It was somehow comforting that Snape didn't treat him like he was made of glass.

“Okay,” he said after thinking for a few moments, “I won't say sorry anymore.”

Snape nodded approvingly, but seconds passed and he said nothing more. Instead, he remained silent, watching him.

“What?” Harry asked, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

Snape decided to ignore his lack of manners for once.

“I'm trying to find out if you're ready to continue talking.”

“And why don't you ask me directly, instead of just staring at me like I'm some kind of experiment?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry swallowed. “Sir.” He added, aware that he had crossed a line.

Snape narrowed his eyes but, to Harry's surprise, did not reply.

“Are you?” he asked instead. “Are you ready to continue?”

The answer was 'no', of course. Harry didn't want to keep talking. If it were up to him, he would never bring the subject up again. But Snape was being extremely patient with him and he felt, somehow, that he owed him the truth. So he took a deep breath, summoned all his courage and nodded.

“Well, go on then.” Snape indicated, waving his hand. “You were explaining what Hagrid said.”

Harry suppressed a grimace and nodded again. 'It's just words,' he repeated to himself.

“Yes.” He swallowed. “Hagrid said... He said they'd been luckier than most. And... And at that moment I... I thought about Fred.”

Snape tilted his head, indicating that he was doing a good job.

“Not just Fred.” The boy continued, taking strength from the gesture. “Remus and Tonks, too. All the people we've... we've lost, really. But especially the three of them. And... And it's been obvious that Ron and Hermione have been thinking about them too. You could feel it.”

“Good, Potter. You're doing well.” Snape was looking at him with those dark eyes, studying his face. “Go on. Tell me why you felt the need to run out of there. I imagine this isn't the first time you've talked about it between the three of you, so there must be something else. Was it because Hagrid was there too?”

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep control of himself.

“No.” He shook his head. “It's not that. The problem... The problem is that...”

He closed his mouth and swallowed, refusing to speak any further.

“Potter?”

“I... I... I can't...”

“Potter, just say it and be done with it.” Snape was beginning to lose his patience.

“It's not that simple.”

“Of course, it is. You have the words in your mind, Potter, I could read them without any difficulty if I wanted to.”

Harry seemed to suddenly remember that Snape was a master of Legilimency. He averted his eyes, preventing him from being able to get the truth through his gaze.

“Don't even think about it.” He said firmly, avoiding those black eyes.

“If I wanted to dig into your mind, Potter, I could do it with the greatest of ease and you wouldn't be able to stop me.” Snape said, his eyes narrowed. That had annoyed him. “You and I both know that you have never been exactly brilliant at hiding your thoughts.”

Anger began to throb in Harry's temples, wondering once again why on earth he had decided to talk to Snape about that.

“Maybe not, but that doesn't give you the right to force me to tell you-”

“Force you?” muttered Snape in a voice as cold as ice. “Force you?” he said again, causing Harry to flinch and turn to look at him again.

The boy knew how to recognize the disappointment on Snape's face perfectly. He had seen it a million times in Potions class when a student blew up a cauldron or ruined a potion. His expression usually showed resignation rather than surprise, showing that Snape didn't trust his students at all and expected such things to happen. At that moment, however, Snape's features showed restrained anger mixed with a different kind of disappointment than Harry was used to. One he had never seen on the man's thin face before. A mixture of anger and sadness at the same time.

“I didn't force you to do anything, Potter.” Snape continued. “It was you who was sitting here every day since I arrived in the infirmary, even when I was unconscious. It was you who insisted on maintaining a relationship of 'cordiality'. It was you who wanted to show me your memories and it was you who came here when you needed to talk about certain things. So don't tell me that I forced you to do anything, because all I did was give you my memories so that you would know the truth. That's all.

With each new sentence from Snape, a new, increasingly intense shade of red had appeared on Harry's cheeks. The man was right, it had been him who had sought to improve his relationship with Snape and, now that he stopped to think about it, perhaps that wasn't what the Potions master had wanted.

“I... You're right. And I understand if you don't want to be a part of this anymore. I've been stupid. I'll leave you alone, Professor.” Harry started to get up.

“What the...? Potter, for Merlin's sake, can you stop being so dramatic? You don't have to leave the room every time we have a bit of an argument.”

Harry looked up at him and sat back down, surprised. Snape's words had sounded different from what he was used to. The Professor's way of speaking was usually poetic and complicated. Nothing like that simple, matter-of-fact phrase. It had reminded Harry a little of Ron, but obviously he wasn't going to tell Snape that. So, instead, he nodded and said:

“Okay, sorry.”

Snape shook his head.

“Stop apologizing, too. I don't want that, Potter. I only intend for you to tell me what it is you're so worried about that you're not able to.”

Harry bit his lip.

“It's... It's hard.”

“Yes, I've noticed...” Snape said sarcastically, but without malice. Suddenly, he had an idea. “You may not like it, but... If you can't say it out loud, do you want me to use Legilimency?”

“No!” Harry said instantly. Realizing this, he forced himself to take a deep breath. “Thanks, but no.” He added trying to calm himself down. “I hate it when someone digs through my mind.”

Snape nodded, understanding perfectly.

“Alright. Then there's only one option left. Come on, Potter, it's getting late and I'm sure you have things to do.”

The sunlight streaming through the window was no longer as bright, and although there were still a couple of hours of sunshine left, Harry knew Snape was right. He couldn't delay it any longer.

“Alright.” He took a deep breath. “But... I don't want you... to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Why would I do that?” Harry shrugged. “Besides, you've never cared much about that from what I remember, Potter. I haven't had the best opinion of you over the years and you've been completely unbothered by it.”

“That's true...” ‘But things have changed’, Harry wanted to say, though he bit his tongue.

“Come on, Potter. What happened? Why did you run away from Hagrid's hut?”

“I...”

“What are you afraid of?”

‘Nothing’, he wanted to say, but after all he had talked to Snape about, he couldn't do it. The man deserved better. Harry took another deep breath, feeling like the words were about to escape his mouth.

“What is the problem?” Snape insisted, with the last shred of patience he had left. He could see Harry's face and how the hardness and tenacity had been draining from it. Now, all that remained was a desperate need to be heard and understood.

“The problem...” Harry finally muttered, “...is me.”

“Why?” Snape asked in surprise, using all the delicacy he was capable of.

“Because... I'm... I'm a coward.” He admitted in a whisper. So quietly that Snape almost thought he had imagined it.

“Potter?”

Harry didn't reply, but instead averted his gaze, embarrassed.

“Why would you say that?”

The boy swallowed, still not looking Snape in the eye.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Potter.”

“I said forget it.” Harry's heart was pounding and he could feel the embarrassment begin to tinge his face red again.

“I'm not going to forget it, Potter.” Snape said firmly. “Basically, because it's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard you say. And you've said a lot of stupid things over the years.”

Harry raised his head in surprise, stunned. Trying to make sense of Snape's words. They sounded like an insult, but there was something else amidst the sarcasm. He forced his eyes to meet the Professor's and saw something in them that startled him. A cold anger that reminded him of a night long ago when the sky showed the Dark Mark, Hagrid's hut was burning and Fang was barking in despair as Harry lay on the ground. ‘Don't call me a coward!’ Snape had said, looking at him with that anger on his features.

“Sir?” Harry said, somewhat confused.

“Potter.” Snape replied, gritting his teeth angrily. “You are one of the bravest people I have ever met, so don't even think about referring to yourself as a 'coward'. Do you understand me?”

Harry's brain stopped working for a few moments - had he heard correctly?

“Do you understand me?” Snape repeated, taking a deep breath.

Harry nodded, though a part of him wondered if he hadn't really died in the Forbidden Forest after all. That seemed more likely than Snape saying those words to him.

“Right.” Snape cleared his throat, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “I just wanted to make it clear...”

Harry nodded again. Feeling as if a Troll had hit him over the head with his stick.

“It... It was clear, sir.”

“I'm glad... And now, would you mind explaining to me why you said something so stupid? Why do you think you're a coward?” The word always left a bad taste in the Potions master's mouth.

“I...” Harry fiddled with his fingers, thinking quickly. He could try to lie to Snape, to avoid telling the truth, but he knew that, more than likely, he would notice. On the other hand, he could drag that conversation out even longer, delay the moment of his confession, but Snape wasn't going to give up and sooner or later he would end up telling him.

“Potter. I'm waiting.”

“Yes, I know. I'm sorry. It's just...”

“You don't know how to begin?” Snape sighed, wondering where he was getting all this patience from. Maybe, and just maybe, this boy traumatized by the war reminded him of himself. Just a little. “Let's recap for a moment. You were in Hagrid's hut, and he said he was luckier than most. That caused you and your friends to think about Fred and the others. This, while painful, is not out of the ordinary, is it?”

Harry nodded.

“Right, so the problem is that you need to get away from there because, quote, ‘you're a coward’.”

Harry nodded again, nervously.

“Why are you a coward, Potter? You've shown more bravery than most adult wizards I know. You sacrificed yourself to the Dark Lord, by Merlin! Why are you a coward?” Snape's voice had been filling with anger as he spoke and Harry could see a vein in his forehead throbbing.

“I don't know.”

“Potter.”

“I don't know!” Said the boy offering the last bit of resistance he had left.

“Why are you a coward, Potter?” Pressed Snape.

“I...”

“What are you afraid of?”

“The funeral!” Harry confessed, unable to take it anymore. “I'm scared of the funeral, okay? That's why I'm a coward.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, trying to understand.

“Fred's funeral.” Harry muttered. “It's just around the corner. We're waiting for a letter from Mrs. Weasley, but it shouldn't be more than a couple of days. And I... I can't. I can't go. Not his and not Remus and Tonks'. I can't because, if I go, then it will be true. It willl be true that they're dead and I-”

The sensation of shortness of breath in his chest was more than familiar to Harry by now, though he would never get used to it. His heart pounding, his hands shaking and the oxygen that never seemed to reach his lungs had become his faithful companions lately. And, at that moment, they had returned with a vengeance.

“Potter. Potter!”

Snape was calling to him from his gurney and had leaned over again to grab his arm, but Harry didn't seem to hear him.

“Dammit...” The professor muttered, beginning to worry.

Harry was still gasping for breath, shaking like a leaf and his eyes had begun to fill with tears.

“Potter!” Snape repeated, shaking him. “Look at me, Potter!” But Harry wasn’t replying.

Thinking quickly, the Potions Master reached over to the bedside table to pick up his wand.

“Expecto Patronum.” He said firmly, waving it.

Instantly, the silver doe appeared from Snape's wand, filling the room with her comforting presence. She trotted delicately to stand directly in front of Harry and then laid her head on his shoulder. Harry blinked as he felt the contact, warm and familiar, and brought a hand up to her neck in a sort of hug.

Patronuses were not solid, but being made of energy and pure magic, one could touch them and not pass through as one would a ghost. In that moment, Harry was incredibly grateful for it. He couldn't explain it, but the warmth of Snape's doe reminded him intensely of his mother and the love that had saved his life seventeen years ago, protecting him from Voldemort's curse. Her mere presence calmed him, and he was able to regain control of his body, slowing his heartbeat and being able to breathe freely again.

He had closed his eyes at the start of the hug, so he was not able to see all the emotions that had crossed Snape's normally inexpressive face. Relief, sadness, and joy all at once. And also the strange feeling that he was watching something very intimate and special. Yes, it was true that the Patronus had been conjured by him, but Lily's essence, all that she had been, covered the doe from the tip of her ears to her tail. The Patronus was filled with the soul of Lily Evans, with all the good that she had brought to Severus Snape's life. Her friendship, but also her smile, her cheek, and her bravery. The doe was mostly Lily and that embrace between mother and son belonged only to the two of them. And so, Snape waited patiently for Harry to be ready to separate a little from her and, after petting her once more, turned his attention back to him.

“Thank you.” The boy finally said, emotion in his eyes.

“Don't thank me, Potter.” Snape replied, trying to regain his composure and control of the situation. But a part of him was still moved by what he had just witnessed, perhaps because the doe was still there, reminding him of the friend he had lost. So, without intending to, he added, “It's what she would have wanted.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, but he was glad that Snape had mentioned his mother without him having to ask about her.

Seconds passed, but neither said anything else, as the Patronus floated in front of Harry, transforming what might have been an awkward silence into a calm and placid one. Finally, Snape cleared his throat and said:

“Look, Potter... I... I don't know if I'm the best person for you to be having this conversation with. I'm not good at listening to people or helping them with their problems. By that I don't mean that I don't want to try.” He added as he saw the expression on Harry's face. “But I think it might be better if you went through this whole... uh... process with someone more qualified.”

“Qualified?” Harry repeated.

“Yes.”

“Someone like a St. Mungo's healer, you mean?” Harry's voice was calm, but Snape could sense the anger in it. “Someone who doesn't know what it's like to be tortured, to watch the people you love die, or that horrible fear when Voldemort seeks you out to kill you?”

“Potter...”

“I want to talk to you because you're the only one who can understand what I've been through. That level of terror when Voldemort wants you in particular, that responsibility when the weight of the war falls on your shoulders... Only you can understand.”

Snape swallowed, understanding, but said nothing. He wanted Harry to get all his thoughts out before answering.

“And yes. There's also Ron and Hermione, the other Weasleys, Andromeda Tonks... So many people who have lost loved ones and who could help me. But I can't ask them to deal with this on top of their own problems.”

Harry shook his head and then looked back at the doe; with her there it was easier to talk about such things.

“And, come to think of it,” he continued, “maybe it's not fair to ask you either...”

“You don’t need to concern yourself about that, Potter.” Snape said, reassuringly. “If I'm honest, I didn't have any plans in case I survived the war. I never thought I would still be here... So you're not interrupting anything.” He added sarcastically.

Harry frowned; he hadn't liked that at all.

“But that's not fair.” He repeated. “You of all people should be doing something that makes you happy; not standing here putting up with me. You deserve it. Especially after surviving two magical wars.”

Snape smiled with sarcasm.

“Ah, but that’s precisely the point, Potter. I have survived two magical wars, yes. But surviving is not living.” He said seriously. “This is what I meant when I said that I'm not the most qualified person to help you. My methods for dealing with the aftermath of a war are not...” Snape fell silent trying to find a suitable word. “They're not the best, one might say.”

“But...”

“You've seen my memories, Potter. You've known me for seven years. Do you think the boy I was at some point was anything like the man I am today?”

Harry took a few seconds to answer, trying to put his thoughts into words, but Snape identified that silence as an answer.

“Exactly.” Said the Potions master. “The War changes you. It did with me and it has done the same to you and your friends. But the most important thing is how you deal with that change.” Snape's voice sounded deep and heavy, bearing the weight of experience. “You said I survived two wars, but the truth is I'm still stuck in the first one.”

If the doe hadn't been there at the time, Snape was sure he would never have confessed all that. But her presence, coupled with the boy's green eyes, made him feel as if there was someone else in the room. Someone he had always been able to tell everything to.

“But that's not true.” Harry said suddenly. “Maybe you haven’t dealt with it in the best way, but it's not true that you are stuck. I've seen your memories. There is an evolution in you. I told you that yesterday, but I'll say it again. You went from being a Death Eater to caring about saving everyone. My mother may have been the starting point, but as time went on you became the bravest person I know. Everything you did over the years was to protect the magical world. I can't think of anything more noble.

Snape, who had become speechless, listening to Harry's word, wrinkled his nose at that last one.

“I am not noble, Potter. Everything I did was out of guilt. It was not a selfless act.”

Harry shook his head.

“Maybe not, but you have to start somewhere. Call it guilt or a sense of responsibility. The point is you did it. Not many people would have put up with everything that you did if they were in your position.”

Snape still looked disgusted. He didn't like flattery, especially when he clearly didn't deserve it.

“Enough, Potter. Stop saying things that aren't true. And” he added when he saw that Harry wanted to reply, “we're getting off the point. What's important here is that you understand that I'm not a role model, quite the opposite.”

“But...”

“But nothing. I'm not a nice man, Potter. I'm not a good person, or someone pleasant to hang out with or whatever it is people do with their friends. I'm a lonely, resentful man. And I'll stay that way until I die.” He assured. “As I said before, I'm not the most qualified to help you. I'll keep trying because, after all these years, I can't just look the other way. But it's important that you understand that you must not make the same mistakes I did. Alright?” He said, fatigue on his face. It had been many years since Snape had been so honest with another person and it was exhausting him.

“I...”

“I don't want you to end up like me. Promise me, Potter. You have to be better.”

The desperation on Snape's face told Harry that there was only one possible answer.

“I promise.” He said solemnly.

“Good.”

After that word, there was silence in the room and the doe began to move again, approaching Snape. The Potions Master petted her snout, as she watched him with those big black eyes, so similar to his own.

“I'm going to keep the charm active for as long as we talk about these things, okay?” Snape told him, still stroking the doe. “It's obviously helping.”

Harry nodded.

“Thank you.”

The professor lowered his head, accepting them. Then he cleared his throat and, slowly, asked:

“Shall we continue with the conversation, then?”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to control himself. The doe seemed to realize this, because she moved away from Snape and walked back to the boy, resting her head in Harry's hands.

“Okay, I think I'm ready.” He said, feeling the warmth in his fingers.

“Good.” Snape said. “You were telling me you were scared of Fred's funeral. His and everyone else's, right?

Harry nodded, swallowing.

“Yeah... That's what I said.”

“Alright.” Snape said, watching him intently, but unsure how to continue.

Harry was silent for a few seconds, keeping his attention on the doe. Then, still stroking its fur, he said:

“I suppose you want to know what's changed. Don't you, sir? I mean, it's not like it's the first time I've been to a funeral, is it? Fred, Remus and Tonks aren't the only people I've lost over the years. I should be used to it, shouldn't I?” Harry's voice was full of sadness and bitterness.

“You shouldn't be used to it. No matter how many people you lose, you never will be.” Snape said, very serious. “But it is true that I would like to understand what has changed.”

Harry sighed, trying to put into words what he was feeling. Though he was having a hard time understanding it too.

“The truth is, I'm not really sure why I'm reacting like this.” He confessed. “I think... Maybe, what's going on, is that whenever I've lost someone the threat of Voldemort was still there. So I could focus all my grief and anger on him, instead of thinking about what had happened.”

The Patronus was still in Harry's lap, his fingers moving through the animal's fur, but the boy's gaze was pinned somewhere on the wall, not fully aware of what he was doing.

“When Cedric died, I had a very hard time, it's true...” He continued. “But Voldemort had just returned, and I had to worry about that. And the year after that, when... When Sirius passed... I don't know, I never got to go to his funeral. There wasn't a body to bury, of course...” Harry spoke on autopilot, trying not to focus on emotions, just facts, just as Snape had taught him. “And then, that summer... It wasn't pleasant, I have to admit. But, somehow, my grief was sort of... sort of squashed. Hidden, more like. I tried not to think about him, about what had happened. And then Dumbledore had so much to teach me about Voldemort that I couldn't allow myself to be sad...”

Snape listened attentively, as Harry continued to speak. It was important for the boy to externalize his thoughts, perhaps then he could find out what was going on.

“And last year... When... when Dumbledore died...” Harry continued. “I'm sorry, but I focused all my anger on you.” He said, sending him a remorseful look.

“Yes, I assumed that, Potter. But I understand.”

Harry nodded, relieved.

“Good... Because that is what happened... I focused on the hatred I felt towards you and Voldemort, and the mission Dumbledore had given me...” Suddenly he inhaled sharply, realizing something. “There's a pattern, isn't there? Whenever I lost someone, I always did the same thing.”

Snape sighed, mentally exhausted.

“Yes, Potter, but it's the most common thing. Most people tend to do it. They hide in some corner of their mind what they don't want to think about and focus on what they can control. After the first war, after your mother... after your parents,” Snape corrected himself, “passed away... I did the same thing for a long time.”

Harry looked up, seeking that support, that understanding, that Snape was offering.

“But, sir, now that the war is over, now that there is no one to hate, no threat to fight... There is nothing left.” He said, realizing that reality. “There is no more anger, no more fear, no more work to do. There is nothing left.” He repeated, his eyes lowered. The doe was still in his lap, but Harry was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice. “There's only me left. Me and this... this sadness. This horrible emptiness.”

Snape tried to keep his face blank so it wouldn’t reflect that same pain he could see in Harry's features. He understood perfectly well what the boy was going through.

“And I think... I think I know why the thought of going to the funeral scares me so much...” Harry continued, with the terrible suspicion that he had found the explanation he had been looking for. “It's as if... As if everything I've been pushing down over the years is finally coming up. All those deaths - Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore’s, even my parents’... And now the rest of them: Fred, Remus and Tonks. So when... when I go to the funeral...” His voice was trembling again, but Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on the doe's warmth and reassuring presence, drawing strength from it. “When it happens... It will be as if all those losses become true at the same time.”

That sentence made the hair on the back of Snape's neck stand up. Harry had just hit the nail on the head, he knew it, he could see it in the boy's face. For a few seconds he said nothing, he sat there watching him, trying to anticipate a change in the boy's face, a crack in the poise he was showing, but he couldn't find it. Despite that revelation, Harry was keeping his composure and Snape felt a flash of pride at the sight of it. Perhaps it was the Patronus in the room, or the relief at having finally discovered the reason for his fear, or probably the boy's mind was too exhausted to take it all in, but Harry was being able to control himself and that meant an improvement in the boy, an evolution. Even if it was only a small one.

“I think you're right, Potter.” Snape finally said. “It makes sense that, faced with a situation like a funeral, your mind would remind you of other painful moments. Especially when there are no longer any distractions present. The problem is that I don't... I'm not quite sure how to help in this case... But I want you to know that it's important to have identified the reason of your fear. And also the fact that you were able to tell me. I...” He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. “You've done a good job.” He said instead.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry replied, still upset by what he had just discovered, but grateful for those words. “Honestly, I don't know quite what to do either... But as you said, knowing what's going on is important.”

Snape nodded, as an idea formed in his mind.

“That's right, Potter... And that's precisely why you should talk to your friends about this. Before you protest,” He added, seeing that Harry wanted to retort, “I know you don't want to upset them or make them sad. But I don't care about that.” Snape said, sounding again like the harsh professor Harry remembered. “The important thing here is that you deal with this situation. And your friends can help you in ways that I cannot. So explain to them what's going on. They've probably already realized that there's something wrong with you; they're not complete idiots. At least Miss Granger isn't...” Snape muttered under his breath.

For once, Harry decided to ignore that comment. He had more important things to worry about.

“But...”

“But nothing, Potter. You know I'm right.”

He was. And Harry sighed, admitting defeat.

“Alright. I'll talk to them, okay?” He said finally. “But not now; I'm tired.”

Snape wanted to smile sarcastically but restrained himself in time.

“That makes two of us, Potter...” Between the injuries he was still recovering from, the draining conversations, and having kept the Patronus active for so long, Snape looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

Harry stared at him for a few moments, realizing this.

“Sorry, Professor. It’s my fault; I shouldn't have stayed here for so long.” He turned his wrist to check his watch and discovered that he had been in the infirmary longer than he had thought. “By Merlin, it really is late... I'm sorry, sir. I'll let you be.”

Snape held up a hand.

“Potter, do you remember me telling you to stop apologizing?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, then stop doing it. It was vitally important to have a conversation on this subject. And, even if we still don't know how to fix it, I think it's a step forward.”

“I think so too.” Agreed Harry. “I know it sounds weird to say, but I feel calmer than I did before. Talking about all this stuff with you helps me a lot. So... er, thank you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

The gratitude in the boy's eyes was evident and Snape, who in other times would have rolled his eyes at such a display of sentimentality, could not help the warmth that flooded his chest.

“It has actually been easier than I would have thought a couple of days ago.” He admitted, with a genuine smile, before realizing what he was doing.

Harry smiled back almost immediately, glad to see his relationship with Snape was slowly improving.

“Anyway...” Snape continued, clearing his throat. “Since it's gotten so late and we're both tired, I suppose we'd better conclude this talk here, don't you think?”

Harry nodded. His head was starting to ache after all those emotions and his bed in the Gryffindor Common Room was calling to him more and more. With those thoughts in mind, he gathered up his belongings and stroked the doe once more, before making his way to the door.

“Thank you again for everything, sir.” He said as he reached it. He had turned to look at Snape, who was currently waving his wand, making the Patronus disappear. Harry instantly felt the warmth of the room diminish considerably.

“You're welcome, Potter...” Snape said, placing the wand back on the small table. “Now go have some dinner and then go to sleep, all right? And talk to your friends.”

Harry nodded.

“I will, I promise. Have a good rest, Professor. I'll come see you tomorrow.” He assured him, with a small smile. He was glad to know that his daily visits to the infirmary had become part of his routine.

Snape merely bowed his head, accepting that fact. He knew that, at that point, he could not run away from Potter and his incessant chatter. So, he remained there, laying on his bed, watching Harry as he closed the door behind him.

His mind went back to the boy, and the improvement that their relationship had experienced during the last two days. It was incredible how quickly things could change. And even though he would never admit it, at the thought of Harry, a twinkle appeared in Snape's dark eyes that would have made Albus Dumbledore jealous.

Harry had been waiting for his friends outside the infirmary doors, remembering everything that had happened that afternoon. His conversations with Snape and the whirlwind of emotions they had triggered were still in his head, but he felt better than when he had run away from Hagrid's hut several hours ago.

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She looked up and there stood her friend, a small smile on her face. Next to her was Ron, who nodded his head in greeting. Harry returned the gesture, covering the few yards that separated them with a couple of steps.

"Everything alright?" He asked, studying their faces.

"All good." Ron said. "You?"

Harry opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say to that. He had told Snape that he was tired and would talk to his friends later. But, now that he had them in front of him, he felt the need to explain to them why he had behaved like that and everything that had happened since he had left Hagrid's hut.

"I'm fine too." He said finally. "I'm sorry for running off like that... I have a lot to tell you guys."

Ron put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately.

"We figured as much, Harry. But you don't have to apologize; we're all a bit weird these days."

"Exactly." Hermione nodded. "And it's perfectly normal."

Harry swallowed at those words, touched to see once again how much his friends understood him.

"Thank you..."

Ron shook his head.

"Don't thank us, Harry. It's something we're all going through, so we totally understand. And maybe next time it might be me or Hermione who has to leave somewhere or reacts in some strange way. The important thing is that we're in this together and we'll never judge each other."

The war had matured Ron by leaps and bounds. Harry could see it in the way he carried himself, in the wrinkles on his face and in his gaze that wandered off into nothingness from time to time. But if there was one thing that showed that new maturity, it was the empathy and emotional intelligence that the boy had been demonstrating of late.

"Thank you, Ron. I... it means a lot to me."

Harry already knew everything his friend had said, but he was grateful for the reminder. He had grown accustomed to dealing with problems and sorrows on his own, with no one to help him. Even after meeting Ron and Hermione it still felt strange to depend on them, like he was a burden, but gestures like that reminded him that he wasn't alone and that leaning on the people who loved him wasn't a sign of weakness or a bother to them.

"Like I said: don't thank me." Smiled Ron, affection in his eyes. "By the way, maybe we should go somewhere else." He said looking around. "The infirmary door isn't the most welcoming place in all of Hogwarts..."

Harry nodded, and was about to propose that they go to the Common Room when Hermione, who was watching him intently, asked:

"Have you eaten anything since this morning, Harry?"

It dawned on the boy that he had forgotten to do so.

"Er... I haven't, actually..."

"I thought so..." She sighed. "Well, let's go to the Great Hall and have some dinner, then. You can tell us all about what happened while we eat."

Harry agreed to that proposal, aware that he was going to need energy to explain to them what had happened with Snape.

In the good old days, the Great Dining Hall used to be full of students chatting with each other, laughing, and enjoying the delicacies cooked by the House Elves. But that was before the War, before the Battle of Hogwarts and before most people left the school. The few that remained at Hogwarts - teachers, the wounded, and a few students who either had nowhere else to go or wanted to help with the rebuilding of the castle - usually ate in their rooms or around the Hogwarts grounds. As a result, the tables were usually empty, except for a handful of healers who would come to get something to eat after long hours in the infirmary. The silver trays were automatically refilled when someone sat down in front of them and emptied in the same way when no one was there, returning the leftover food to the kitchens.

At the moment, to Harry's gratitude, the Great Dining Hall was empty. He had no desire for anyone to overhear his conversation with Ron and Hermione. The three of them sat down at the table that had belonged to the Gryffindor house and filled their plates with the food that had appeared on the trays. Harry took a couple of bites of the meat pie he had chosen and suddenly realized how hungry he was.

They ate in pleasant silence, giving Harry time to collect his thoughts. At another time, he might have been nervous about talking to his friends about everything that was eating him up inside, about being so vulnerable, about hurting them without meaning to, but recent events had changed his perspective. If he had been able open up to Snape, he could trust Ron and Hermione. Besides, as the man had said, they could help each other. So, after swallowing the last bit of food, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I know I haven't been very present these days. After everything that happened during the Battle I... I needed time to myself." He said, averting their gaze. "And... even though we've been together physically, I know you've noticed that my mind wasn't fully here."

Ron and Hermione nodded, it was true that they had noticed that. Still, they didn't interrupt him; they wanted him to let out what was inside of him.

"Ever since you found Snape... Ever since I knew he was alive... I... I've been using him as an escape route." Harry admitted embarrassed but forcing himself to keep talking. "I've put all my energies into visiting him in the infirmary, into making sure he was going to survive. And my thoughts have been focused on trying to understand him, to come to terms with the fact that he was on our side all this time."

On the one hand, it still felt strange to think that he had been, but on the other, imagining his life without the Snape of the infirmary, who had listened to him and helped him so much, seemed impossible.

"And yes," Harry continued, "I've also been thinking about everything that's happened, about the people we've lost. It's impossible not to. But I've been doing it from a distance, not really taking it in. But now... Now that Fred's funeral is coming up... The reality is right under my nose and I can't ignore it."

He sighed and picked up the glass in front of him to drink some water. He realized his hands were shaking and tried to conjure up the image of Snape's Patronus, her reassuring presence.

"Harry..." Hermione called to him gently. "We're going through the same thing. Maybe we haven't focused as much on Snape as you have, but... But we've also tried to distract ourselves in our own way."

Ron nodded at those words and took her hand, conveying his warmth and support. She thanked him with a small smile, albeit one that was loaded with sadness.

"Just think, Harry, that Ron and I started being together on the same day as the Battle. And these first few days of our relationship, these feelings... They have been a distraction for us. We have used them to try not to think too much about the other stuff. It sounds bad… But it’s the truth.”

Hermione, too, looked ashamed of herself. At the sight of it, Ron squeezed her hand tighter and said:

"It's horrible, yes, but it's the reality and no one can blame us for it. These first days, which in theory should be precious and full of joy, have been sad and strange. The least we can do is try to survive as best we can and find some moments of happiness in our relationship."

Those words comforted Hermione a little, and she nodded. It was clear that this was not the first time they had discussed the subject. Harry understood what they must be feeling: joy at knowing that their feelings were reciprocated and looking forward to spending time with each other; but at the same time, sadness and grief for what they had lost, as well as guilt for not thinking about it all the time.

"Each one of us has created a little shelter where we could take refuge from everything that's happened. And it’s normal." Harry told them. "But that's precisely why the conversation in Hagrid's hut affected me so much. Facing certain things, certain... moments is something that we have to do. But I don't know if I'm ready for it."

"You mentioned Fred's funeral earlier." Ron reminded him, pain in his voice. "Is that what scares you the most?"

Harry swallowed.

"Yeah... I... I've been talking about it with Snape."

Ron narrowed his eyes but didn't interrupt him.

"When I went to see him after Hagrid's hut... Let's just say I was pretty nervous and he, er... helped me calm down. We talked about what I was afraid of and I think I've figured out the answer." He swallowed, preparing to explain everything that was going through his mind. "Besides the obvious reasons, Fred's funeral will be about accepting that what happened really happened. That all the people we've lost to Voldemort - Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, even Sirius, Cedric or my parents... They won't be coming back. It will mean that all those deaths are true, that defeating Voldemort isn't going to bring them back."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry continued speaking.

"You don't understand. I know you want to be positive and think about the future. Try to make some sense out of this. But the reality is that there's nothing left to fight for now. There is only this horrible pain and no solution. This emptiness. Forever."

"Harry..."

"And I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so very, very sorry. I should be beside you, cheering you on, being strong. Because you're having the worst time of the three of us - you've lost your brother, damn it! But I can't. I can't deal with this. Or help you or... Or Ginny." The words gushed out of his mouth and Harry wasn't able to hold them back. "I've left her alone like a coward because I don't even know what to say to her. I don't even know what to say to myself. All I know is that I don't want to hurt her. Or you. And I-"

He hadn't finished speaking when Ron lifted him out of his seat and wrapped him in a desperate hug. Harry clutched at his friend's shirt as tightly as he could, trying not to get swept up in the spiral of negative thoughts that threatened to drown him. He felt another pair of arms wrap around them and Harry could hear Hermione crying, joining in with his own cries. For the second time that afternoon, he was once again grateful that the Great Hall was empty.

They stayed like that for a long time until, little by little, they regained control of themselves. Ron, still holding him by the shoulders, put some distance between Harry and himself, studying his face.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked him.

Harry nodded weakly, feeling very tired all of a sudden. Maybe that was why the sadness felt less suffocating.

"Good, because I want you to listen to me carefully."

Ron sat back down on the bench and helped Harry do the same. Hermione sat down as well, trying not to break the moment.

"Harry, I'm going to tell you something and I want to make it very clear to you."

The boy swallowed, surprised by the intensity and seriousness on his friend's face.

"We will get through this. We will survive. I promise." Ron had never been so sure of anything in his life. "We will get to be happy again."

Harry wanted to reply, but his friend continued speaking, looking into his eyes. And there was such determination in them that it shut him up.

"It won't be in a week. Not in a month. Probably not in a year either. But, I promise you, we will live a life they would have been proud of. We will be happy and we will live as well as we can. Because that is what Fred, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, your parents, and everyone else would have wanted. Because if we're here, we have to take advantage of this gift. It will hurt. It won't be easy. And there will be times when it seems impossible. But we will find a way to be happy. I promise you that. And more importantly: I promise it to them."

Harry's eyes had filled with tears, but they were tears of emotion and relief. Until that moment he hadn't really believed he could have a future. But now, a strange warmth had spread through his chest, making him feel stronger and more optimistic than before.

"Thank you, Ron." He told him, moved.

Hermione, who until that moment hadn't wanted to interrupt, reached over once more to rest her hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We'll make it. You'll see. We haven't faced a thousand dangers over the years. This is just another battle. The most important one, true, but I'm sure we'll win."

Harry gave her a small smile and squeeze her hand.

"I'm very lucky to have you. I want you guys to know that."

Ron and Hermione smiled back at him, the affection evident on their features.

"And we're lucky to have you, Harry." Ron told him, as Hermione nodded.

Before anyone could say anything else, the clock in the Great Hall began to chime, indicating that it was eight o'clock in the evening.

"It's getting late." Harry said, watching the golden hands of the clock. "Do you want to go back up to the Common Room? Honestly, I'd like to get into my pajamas and relax a bit."

The others agreed, so they gulped down what was left of their drinks and then set off for the Gryffindor Common Room. Once they arrived, they changed into their pajamas and sat down in the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Hermione pointed her wand and said an incantation. Instantly, flames engulfed the logs and the smell of burning wood filled the air. The fire danced inside the fireplace, casting shadows and orange light on the teenagers. Harry smiled, enjoying the pleasant feeling, and relaxing completely for the first time in the whole day.

"You know? Little moments like this make me realize that you're right, Ron. That we'll get to be happy."

His friend smiled at him and then leaned his head back against the back of the armchair. The color of his hair and the light coming from the fireplace made it seem as if Ron was surrounded by flames. Harry thought that if that was true, it wouldn't be surprising. The boy exuded warmth. His presence and personality were as comforting as the crackling of the wood against the flames, as the cozy warmth of the fireplace. Once again, Harry felt lucky to have him in his life. Him and Hermione. If it weren't for them, Harry didn't want to imagine where he would be right now.

"Come to think of it, I haven't finished telling you everything I've talked to Snape about." He said suddenly, causing Ron to sit up again, giving him his full attention. "It's just that this moment reminded me… Snape told me one thing. He told me that I have to be better than him."

Hermione gave him a questioning look and Ron smiled, shaking his head.

"I don't want to pick on Snape now that I kind of like him…" The boy began. “But, Harry, you have always been better than him."

Harry ignored the teasing and decided to explain himself better.

"Wait, Ron, I didn't make myself clear. And I want to, cause it’s important what he told me. He said that, in the face of what we've been through, there are different ways of reacting. Snape, when my mother died, he withdrew into himself. He got angry at the world and became... well, the man we all know. And as brave as he was, and as much as I admire him for it, the truth is that he's not a role model... And he knows it. That's why he made me promise him that I wouldn't end up like him. That I would be better."

Ron's eyebrows rose up.

"Snape admitting his mistakes. Wow... He's really changed."

"He really has, Ron. And that brings me to what I was getting at. I can see myself being able to deal with everything we have on our hands because I have you guys, the other Weasleys and people like Neville and Luna. But Snape had no one. Until now.” He stopped talking for a second, acknowledging that fact. “Maybe that's why now he has been able to come to terms with his mistakes and with his past. Even if slowly." Harry nodded to himself. "It's clear to me now. Especially after the way you guys opened my eyes in the Great Hall. I felt alone and lost, but you, my 'support system' like Snape says, have shown me the way. You've shown me that we'll make it, that no matter how much it hurts, the people who are still here make it worth staying and going through all of this."

Harry smiled, suddenly remembering how he had said something similar to Ginny, a few days before. "I'm sorry, I don't have a formula for dealing with it. You just... do it. Because there is no other way. And because the people who are still here make it worth it." His own words echoed in his mind, and he realized that it was the absolute truth. Living was worth it and would still be worth it, even if sometimes it hurt so much that one could forget. Despite everything, despite the fact that loss, pain and grief would always be part of his life, Harry now knew that whenever he needed it, whenever his strength faltered, his loved ones would be there to remind him of that.

Harry woke up slowly the following morning. The sunlight streaming through the curtains illuminated subtly the room, but it wasn't enough to disturb the sleep of the other two people beside him. Both Ron and Hermione were sleeping soundly, their hands clasped together. At the sight of that Harry, who in the past might have felt out of place, couldn't help but smile fondly.

The conversation the three of them had had the night before had been hard, there was no doubt about it, but extremely necessary. Harry could still feel the warmth in his chest at the memory of it. If he focused enough, though, he could also feel the deep sadness and anxiety that had been inside him for so long, crouched and waiting for their moment. However, he seemed to have found the formula to keep them at bay, at least for most of the time.

He fumbled under his pillow until he found his wand. Then he grasped it with the fingers of his right hand and waved it, whispering:

"Tempus."

The numbers that appeared suspended in the air read nine o'clock in the morning. The boy wondered if it would be too early to visit Snape. On one hand, he knew that he had to let the professor sleep, but on the other one, he wanted to be able to explain to him what he had discussed with his friends the night before. To show him that he was calmer and in control of his emotions.

He sat up carefully, placing the pillow behind his back, pondering what to do, when a bluish light suddenly flooded the room. Harry immediately recognized Mr. Weasley's weasel Patronus.

"Ron! Hermione! Wake up!"

"W-what?" Hermione opened her eyes, her hair all tangled up and a confused expression on her face.

"Harry?" Ron sat up at the same time as the girl, squinting at the unexpected Patronus light and covering his face with his hand. "What's going on?"

The boy merely tilted his head in the direction of the weasel made of light, floating in the middle of the room.

The Patronus, who had waited patiently until that moment, seemed to decide that Ron and Hermione were now able to hear his message, because he opened his mouth and began to speak in Mr. Weasley's voice:

"Hello, boys, good morning. I'm sorry to inform you on such short notice, but it seems that the last of the remaining Weasleys will be here shortly. This means that we should be able to start the funeral this afternoon. Please come to the Burrow as soon as you can. Love, Arthur."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Patronus vanished, taking the bluish glow with it. The three friends stared at each other for a few moments in silence.

"What a way to wake up." Ron muttered. "Although we were already expecting it..."

Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Ron-"

"I'm fine, really." He was quick to say, though he intertwined his fingers with hers and gave a squeeze. "Really. I mean, it's not like it's going to be the best day of my life, but it has to be done. And I'm ready." Harry met the boy's blue eyes and saw that he was telling the truth. "What about you Harry, are you ready?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Ron. You're his brother. I'm not-"

"Harry," his best friend interrupted him firmly, but affectionately, "really? Come on, answer the question."

The boy closed his mouth, pushing aside his guilt. After yesterday's conversation there was no point. He took a breath and tilted his head to one side, listening to himself. He waited for a few seconds, nervous, thinking his heart would start to race and he would feel out of oxygen once more, but those reactions never came.

"Harry?"

"Yes, I think I am. I think I'm ready." He said, still not fully believing that he could feel that way. But he did. Everything he'd learned over the past few days, plus the conversation they'd had the night before, was helping a lot.

"Good." Ron smiled at him with pride in his features. Harry looked into his eyes and couldn't help but feel his heart sink. Ron's blue eyes used to be full of humor and happiness but as of late, and especially at that moment, they were filled with sadness and pain. He wished with all his might that he could do something about it, that he could comfort the boy who had given him so much, but there was nothing he could do.

"What about you, Hermione?" The question snapped Harry out of his thoughts.

Hermione brought her gaze down to their still intertwined hands and ran her thumb over the boy's knuckles. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Good." Ron nodded, with a sad smile.

Hermione smiled back, staring at him for a few moments. Then, she got out of bed and pulled Ron up using the hand that was holding his.

"Come on, let's go say goodbye to Fred." She said gently.

That sentence sparked an idea in Harry's mind. He could hear Hermione organizing the morning in the background - showering first, then breakfast, then transfiguring some clothing into something black and elegant, and finally, packing and walking to the outside of Hogwarts where they would Apparate to the Burrow - but Harry wasn't really listening to her.

"Hello?"

"Huh?"

"Harry, are you there?"

Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, yes. I'm here. It's just... I have to do something. I'm really sorry." He added as he stood up and began to grab the first few items of clothing in his trunk. "It's something important and it won't take me long. But I have to do it before we go to the Burrow."

"But, Harry-"

"Harry." Something in Ron's tone of voice made the boy stop searching through his trunk and turn to look at him. "Are you trying to run away from the situation again?"

He didn't say it in an accusatory tone, he simply wanted to know the answer.

"No." Harry replied very seriously, looking him in the eye. "I was telling the truth when I said I'm ready. This is... something I have to do before the funeral. I just can't say what it is right now. Please trust me."

Ron stared at him for a few more seconds, until he finally nodded.

"All right. I do trust you. Just keep us update and let us now when you are ready."

"Thank you, Ron."

"I'll transfigure your clothes for you, okay, Harry?" Hermione offered. "From what you say, we'll finish getting ready before you do."

Harry nodded, gathering the pile of clothes in his hands, and standing up.

"Yes, thank you very much. I'll see you guys in a bit." He said, starting to walk towards the door. "I promise."

Ron and Hermione waved goodbye to him, though a hint of confusion remained on their faces.

"What do you think he has to do?" Hermione asked as Harry disappeared through the gap in the door.

"No idea... But knowing him it must be something important."

---

Harry ran in the direction of the showers of the Gryffindor Common Room, trying to hurry as much as possible. There was no time to waste, and he still had to talk to Snape and then find the exact spot in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

He mentally reviewed the path he had taken that fateful night during the Battle, when he had gone to meet Voldemort. The hot water ran over his head as the boy searched through his memories. He finished showering and began to dress, still deep into his thoughts. Then, once fully dressed, he left the pajamas on a box that would send them back straight to his room, and he began to stride down the stairs to the infirmary. He wished with all his being that Snape was awake, as he had no desire to provoke the man's bad mood, especially when he needed his advice urgently.

Arriving in front of Snape's room, Harry knocked softly on the door.

"Come in." Sounded the Potions Master's deep voice from inside.

Harry opened the door, somewhat nervously.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Potter?"

It was clear that Snape was expecting Madam Pomfrey and not an already dressed and showered Harry Potter at half past nine in the morning.

"Potter." Snape's gaze hardened. "I don't know who you think you are, but just because there's a certain cordiality between us now doesn't mean that-"

"Professor." Harry interrupted him. In other circumstances he would have thought twice about cutting Snape off like that, but he didn't have time to lose. "I need your advice."

The man fell silent, taken by surprise, and Harry took the opportunity to continue speaking.

"I spoke to Ron and Hermione yesterday and, you were right, it helped me a great deal. Now I know I can count on them, that they understand me and won't judge me. Like you said."

Snape had to summon all his willpower not to roll his eyes.

"That's good, Potter. But couldn't it wait for a more decent hour? Perhaps you think you have the right to be able to disturb people at any time and disregard their privacy and their rest. Being the 'famous' Harry Potter I wouldn't be surprised that you think so, but-"

"Stop that." Harry said very seriously. "Stop doing that. You know it's not true." He had to take a deep breath to keep from throwing away all the progress he and Snape had made together. In that moment of nerves and sadness, a good fight with Snape - a familiar situation, one he was used to and one that reminded him of the old days - would have been comforting. Toxic, yes, but comforting. And it would have served to distract him from the situation at hand.

"Excuse me?" Snape's eyes flashed dangerously.

It would have been so easy: a little disrespect, a rude remark, or a bit of passive aggressiveness... and everything he'd achieved the last few days would have gone down the drain. He could see it in Snape's eyes, he had realized it too. But Harry thought of the man from the days before: the one who had been patient with him, who had listened to him and given him advice, the one who had conjured the Patronus to calm him down... And he didn't want to go back to the old ways.

"I'm here for the funeral, all right? We got a message from Mr. Weasley this morning, otherwise I wouldn't be here so soon." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "It's going to be this afternoon. We'll be leaving for the Burrow in a couple of hours."

Snape frowned, his anger completely forgotten in the face of that new information.

"And what are you doing here, then? Shouldn't you be with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"

"Yes... I'm going to join them in a bit. But there are a couple of things I have to do first. That's why I'm here. As I said, I need your advice..."

Snape's brow was still furrowed, but the expression on his face had changed. Anger had given way to curiosity.

"Advice on what?"

And here came the tricky part, Harry thought. If he explained his plan to Snape, he would be trusting the man completely. Perhaps too much. And the boy wasn't sure if that was a good idea. He looked into his dark eyes, remembering that this was the kid who had introduced his mother to the magical world, the boy who had loved her, the former Death Eater who had given his whole life to make amends, the teacher who had protected him, even though he hated him, the man who had been willing to sacrifice his life to defeat Voldemort and give him a chance. And then he had no more doubts.

"Er... It's a bit of a long and strange story... But please have patience with me."

Snape bit his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking. That he had been having infinite patience since the first moment he had woken up in the infirmary.

"Fine." Harry continued, clearing his throat. "Does the name 'Deathly Hallows' ring a bell?"

Snape's eyes narrowed for a moment, but he nodded and said:

"Until recently I had never heard anyone talk about them in any way other than as a myth, a legend, or a children's story...But I do remember seeing books in Albus's office that dealt with the subject. At the time I thought he was just curious. That he wanted to investigate the possible veracity of these artefacts. Although," Snape added, his voice deepening, "after the Dark Lord developed an obsession with the Elder Wand… Let's just say I decided to find out as much about them as possible. The Wand of Death, the most powerful wand in the world seemed the most real Hallow of the three. And also, the one most people had died for..." Snape muttered, unknowingly brushing his neck, where the scars caused by Nagini's fangs glistened in the sunlight.

Memories of that night, of that moment in the Shrieking Shack flooded Harry's mind and, by the look on the Potions Master's face, Snape's as well.

"The... The other two Hallows are real too, sir." Harry said, studying Snape's reaction. The man raised an eyebrow, putting aside thoughts of that night.

"Oh, really? And how exactly are you so sure?"

The boy took a deep breath.

"Because Dumbledore gave them to me. And because I have used them."

Had it not been an important moment, the expression on Snape's face would have caused Harry to burst out laughing.

"You have used the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak." He said slowly, as if questioning his sanity. "Because Dumbledore gave them to you."

"That's right." Harry replied. "The Invisibility Cloak he gave it back to me during my first Christmas at Hogwarts, it had belonged to my father and his father before him."

Snape's mouth had dropped open in surprise.

"I remember you had an invisibility cloak... I used it during your third year…" He shook his head. "But that doesn't mean that-"

"Cloaks usually lose their power after a short amount time. This one has been in my family for generations, and no one has ever had to renew their magic. Dumbledore asked my father to study it and so he gave it to me when I was old enough. It's the second Hallow. I promise, sir."

Snape looked at him, still with some skepticism on his face, but nodded. Weirdest things had happened, and he knew Potter wouldn't make up a lie like that.

"And the... the Stone?" He said it trying to show impassivity, but there was something else there.

"That's why I need your advice, sir."

"You mean it's real, then? That the Stone exists?" Snape's voice sounded strange, yearning, and desperate.

Harry swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully.

"It exists. And I've used it. I was able to talk to my parents, to Sirius and Remus. They helped me to be strong enough to give myself up to Voldemort, to accept my death. But, sir," he added, trying to wipe away the longing that had settled in Snape's eyes, "they weren't really alive. They were almost like a cross between a Patronus and a ghost. A reflection of the people they were. You could tell they didn't belong to the world of the living. It was comforting to talk to them, to say goodbye. But the Stone can never bring back what has been lost. What we have lost." He added, emphasizing those last words.

Snape's black eyes met Harry's green ones and lingered there for a few seconds. For an instant he had thought... He had thought they could bring everyone back. Make amends for their mistakes. Fix what was broken. But from what Potter was saying that wasn't possible. If someone like the boy, who had lost so many people, was saying that they couldn't bring them back to life, that they were just a pale reflection of their loved ones, then Snape had no choice but to believe him. As much as it hurt.

"Professor?"

"Potter."

"Are you still here?"

"Of course, I'm still here, Potter." Snape seemed to have awoken from that trance. "Where do you want me to have gone?"

"It's just that the existence of the Stone often affects people. Especially those of us who have lost someone. Dumbledore died because of it."

Snape, who had been about to interrupt him, narrowed his eyes at this new information.

"How?"

"The ring that poisoned him. The one that left him with a black hand and only one more year left to live. It was one of the Horcruxes, but it was also the Resurrection Stone. That's why Dumbledore tried to put it on him. He wanted to bring his family back. His sister..."

Snape shook his head, taking in those words. He had read in the Prophet some things about Albus' family, but he had never given it much thought; he had more pressing things to think about. But apparently, he and Dumbledore had more in common than he had thought. They both felt responsible for the death of a loved one and, upon learning of the Stone's existence, they had both been tempted by it.

"Well, Potter... You seem to know more about these Hallows than I. May I ask why you need my advice, then?"

Harry fiddled with his fingers, suddenly nervous.

"I… I want to give the Weasleys a chance to say goodbye." He said, looking up. "Say goodbye to Fred."

Snape pursed his lips, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"I understand."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I... I honestly don't know." Snape sighed, wearily. He was pleased that Potter had wanted to ask him for advice on the subject, but perhaps he wasn't the best person for it. "I think you should do as you see fit. Dumbledore gave you the Stone because he understood that you were ready to use it. And however, many mistakes he made in his life, I think he was right in this case. You have shown great maturity. Trying to control your emotions, dealing with your grief... Anyone else in your position would have used the Stone to bring back everyone they had lost, but you have not. So, whatever you decide... It will be the right decision."

Harry swallowed.

"Thank you, sir."

Despite those words, Snape could see that concern was still present on the boy's features.

"You're not convinced, are you?"

"I... No, I'm not, actually. I'm afraid of losing them. What if after they say goodbye to Fred they don't want to let him go? What if I do more harm than anything else?"

Snape sighed, running a hand over his face. His near-death experience must have affected him more than he realized. Such levels of patience were not normal for him.

"The Weasleys must be having a hard enough time with or without your help, Potter. At least by giving them a chance to say goodbye maybe they'll come to terms with it and move on, if only a little."

"Yes, but-"

"Look, Potter... Get the Stone from wherever you've hidden it. Don't make that face, it's obvious you don't have it in the pocket of your trousers." He added. "Then, once you're at the Burrow, talk to the Weasleys. See how they're doing, figure out whether they'll be able to handle seeing the boy again and then having to say goodbye to him. Think about whether it will do them more good than harm. Or vice versa. And once you know all that, make your decision."

Harry took a deep breath, nodding with every word that came out of Snape's mouth.

"Okay. Yes, it makes sense. I'll take the Stone with me and then I'll figure out what to do. But at least I'll have the chance to use it if I think it's necessary."

"Exactly."

"Alright." Harry said to himself, getting to his feet. "Thank you very much for your help, Professor. It's really helped me clear my head and put in order my thoughts."

Snape waved his hand gently.

"Easy, Potter. It seems these 'interesting' conversations are becoming a tradition." He said it sarcastically, but Harry took no offence. There was not a hint of malice in Snape's tone of voice.

"It would seem so..."

"Lucky me..." There it was again, Snape's usual sarcasm, but without the venom it had carried every time for the last seven years.

Harry smiled at him, and Snape couldn't help but return the gesture.

"But, Potter," he added, trying to show seriousness, "don't show up in my room so early in the morning again, unless it's an emergency. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And now go, you have things to do."

"Yes, sir." Harry repeated, turning towards the door.

"Oh and, Potter?"

"Yes?"

"I hope the funeral goes as well as possible. I know it won't be easy for you. And give my condolences to the Weasleys, please."

Snape's voice sounded heavy. The teasing tone from before was gone.

"I will, Professor. Thank you. I don't know when we'll be back at Hogwarts, but as soon as I do, I'll come and explain how it went."

Snape nodded but said nothing more and Harry took the opportunity to leave the room, carefully closing the door.

Once he was alone, Snape sighed tiredly. He tried to clear his mind, to push the negative thoughts aside. And, though he almost succeeded, there was still a small part of him worrying about Potter, aware of the situation the boy would have to face in a few hours. He only hoped that the boy had the strength and maturity to make the right decisions and survive the whirlwind of emotions they would unleash.

It took him a few minutes to reach the place where the Forbidden Forest began, and then a few more to walk to the clearing where he had given himself to Voldemort, but once he was there, the Stone was not hard to find.

He scanned the ground several times, looking over the roots, grass, and dirt, until he came across a black pebble that reflected the sunlight in a different way than the others. He bent down to pick it up and looked at it between his fingers. The Deathly Hallows mark was still there, as was the cut that ran vertically across it, marking the spot where Dumbledore had destroyed the Horcrux. He had wondered if seeing it would make him want to summon his parents, Sirius and Remus again, but so far it wasn't happening. It had been different that night; Harry had been willing to die. Now, however, that he had a life and a future ahead of him, he was aware that they had no place in the world of the living. It would be pointless and unfair to force them to spend any more time there than necessary. He wondered if the Weasleys would be able to understand that too.

Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, he pocketed the Stone and turned to look around the rest of the clearing. It was strange to think that less than two weeks ago Voldemort and his followers had been right there, waiting for him. If he concentrated, he could see him right in front of him, with his red eyes and snake-like face, pointing his wand and hitting him with the Killing Curse for the second time in his life. He still couldn't believe that he had been willing to die and that he had, in fact, died. It seemed too unbelievable to be true, but he knew it had happened. If he closed his eyes, he could see the beam of green light approaching before everything went black.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on what to do next. He would have time to think about such things later. And so, he left the clearing behind him and started walking towards Hogwarts.

He was halfway there when he realized that he hadn't say anything to his friends yet. He fumbled in his pocket until he found the D.A. coin.

"I've done what I had to do. I'm on my way back to the Common Room now. H"

Ron and Hermione's response didn't take long. A few seconds later, the coin vibrated again displaying the following message:

"Alright, Harry. We're almost done. We'll wait for you here. R&H"

He read those words and picked up his pace, trying to hurry. He was starting to get nervous, aware of what he had to do that day. A funeral was sad and exhausting enough, but having to decide what to do with the Stone and perhaps explain to the Weasleys that they could talk to Fred, but only for a few minutes, was extremely stressful. Still, if he believed it could help them, he would do it without a second thought: the Weasleys deserved it.

He continued walking, immersed in his thoughts, debating what to do, as his legs carried him to the castle entrance and then beyond, until he reached the Gryffindor Common Room.

Ron and Hermione, conversing quietly and dressed in elegant black robes, were sitting in the armchairs, waiting for him.

"I'm here." Harry said, stepping through the portrait hole.

His friends looked up at the sight of him and greeted him in unison.

"We left your clothes on the bed." Hermione told him, pointing in the direction of the room. "And I've also taken some extra clothes for you, in case we stay at the Burrow for a few days." She showed him her little beaded bag, which she had dyed black for the occasion.

Harry saw it and nodded, grateful for his friend's ability to think of everything.

"Thank you. Well, I'm going to change, and I'll be right back."

Five minutes later, dressed in a robe similar to the one he had worn during Dumbledore's funeral, Harry descended the stairs of the Common Room to join his friends.

"Ready?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, but Harry could see the nervousness on their faces.

"Yeah, yeah..." Ron said. "Come on, let's go."

Harry could see his hands shaking.

"Ron."

His friend looked up.

"Mm?"

"We're going to be fine, okay? You said so yourself yesterday."

Ron swallowed.

"I know, I keep thinking it, but... I'm a little scared now... Just thinking about coming home and seeing his stuff lying around and him not being there..." He shuddered. "And having to put up with the stares from all those Weasleys. All those people that I can't even remember their names. Their whispers and their 'I'm so sorry' and-"

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, trying to curb those thoughts.

"Ron. They don't matter, okay?" She said softly. "We're not doing this for them. We're doing it for Fred. And for your parents and your brothers too. They need this. And so do you. I've been reading about loss and grieving and-"

"Hermione..." Ron sighed.

"No, listen to me. I know you can't learn certain things from books, but in this case, I think it's essential to know what we're dealing with. And everywhere else it says it's very important to have a funeral or some kind of ceremony to say goodbye and to be able to continue the grieving process. Really, the brain works like that."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione continued speaking.

"Look, I know... I know it's a completely different situation, but it helped me. When... when my grandmother died, I wasn't able to understand what was going on until I went to her funeral. And it was nice in a way. Seeing all those people there who loved her, hearing stories about her, laughing and crying with anecdotes from her life..."

Ron swallowed.

"Looking at it like that... Maybe... Maybe you're right."

Hermione smiled sadly at him.

"Look, it scares me too. But we're going to be together. Forget about those relatives that don't matter. Those of us who really loved Fred are going to be there, supporting each other. Saying goodbye to him."

Ron nodded, slowly, and, Harry, who had been watching the exchange holding the Stone between his fingers, dropped it back into his pocket. At some point, he had come to think that Ron was the weakest of the three of them. He was ashamed of it, but when he had abandoned them in the midst of their search for the Horcruxes it had been easy to be angry with him and believe it. What had happened during the War, and also after it, had shown him how wrong he had been. Ron had always been the heart of the trio, but now he was also the anchor that kept them grounded. The one who made sure that pain and loss wouldn't drag them down. That was why it hurt so much to see the sadness in his eyes. Harry sighed, wishing he was able to make the right choice.

"Hermione's right." He said finally. "And we're going to be with you the whole time. You won't have to face this alone."

Ron looked at him with affection on his features.

"Thank you. Both of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd manage." Hermione joked, trying to cheer him up.

"I'm not so sure..." Replied the boy, though he seemed calmer. "Okay." Ron sighed. "I guess we should get going then. We better not be late..."

He got up for the armchair.

"Yeah, you're right." Hermione nodded, joining him.

They checked one last time that they had everything they needed. Once they were sure they did, the three friends left the Common Room and started walking towards the Hogwarts grounds.

---

The large iron gate that marked the entrance to Hogwarts seemed small from that distance. Ron squinted his eyes to get a clearer look and estimated that it would still take them a few minutes to reach it.

"Harry." He said breaking the silence. "I know you couldn't say it before, but can you tell us now what you went to do this morning?"

It was clear that what had pushed Ron to ask that question had been the need for a distraction, and, although Harry wanted to give it to him, he wasn't sure what to answer. He still hadn't decided what to do with the Stone.

"Er... I went to talk to Snape, I needed his advice about... One thing. And then I went to do that, uh, thing..." He fell silent suddenly, realizing how stupid he sounded. "I'm sorry, I know it's weird and I don't want to keep secrets from you, but I still can't tell you exactly what I've been doing. It's important that I don't."

Ron sighed.

"I trust you, Harry. If you say you can't tell us, then you must have a good reason for it. But promise me you're not in danger. The last time you disappeared without an explanation... Well, let's just say that when we saw you again you were in Hagrid's arms and Voldemort was screaming and laughing, saying that he had killed you." He swallowed to undo the lump in his throat. "I don't want to go through that again, okay?"

"N-no, of course not." That had made him feel guilty. He hadn't stopped to think about how traumatic that scene must have been for his friends. "It's nothing like that, really. No one's in danger. It's just that... I want to do something that might help someone, but it might also make things worse. And I don't know what to do."

Ron watched him for a few seconds, thinking. Harry could almost see the gears in his mind moving.

"That 'someone', is it me? Is that why you can't tell us what is going on? Is that why you went to talk to Snape, instead of asking us for advice?"

Harry, who had opened his mouth to deny it, realized there was no point in doing so and closed it again.

"Yes..." He said finally. "It's you. You and the other Weasleys." He bit the inside of his cheek, choosing his next words carefully. "I'm sorry... I wish I could explain it, but I don't think it's a good idea to do that right now. I want to help." He continued. "Help you deal with... all of this. But maybe I'm going to make it worse. That's why I haven't said anything until now. I want to wait to talk to your family and see how they're doing before I make a decision. But even then, I don't know if it's going to be the right one. Snape said that... that I should trust myself. That whatever I choose will be the right choice. But I'm not so sure."

Ron looked at him for a few moments, as Harry's heart pounded. He was afraid that he had said too much, that Ron wouldn't understand him, that he would ask for explanations, or that he would tell him to mind his own business. But the boy simply continued to watch him and when he spoke, he did so gently, as if he was afraid of scaring him.

"I understand. You have to decide if it's worth the risk before you do anything..." Ron sighed. "Look, Harry. If you're trying to help, then, whatever you decide I'm going to be grateful. And I know my family will too. The only thing I feel bad about is that you have to carry the weight of making this decision alone."

At those words, ironically, Harry felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. He still wasn't sure what he should do but having Ron's support helped a lot.

"Thank you, Ron. Really. I promise that as soon as I make a decision I will tell you right away. I'll tell you both of you right away." He added, looking at Hermione.

The girl, who had been silent until then, was watching him with a sparkle in her eye. Harry realized then that he recognized that expression. It used to appear on her friend's features when she solved a riddle or knew the answer to a question. And, in that moment, Harry was sure that Hermione had deduced that he was talking about the Stone. He would have liked to ask her opinion, if she thought it was a good idea. But that was not possible with Ron in front of him.

"Don't worry about this now, okay?" Harry added, turning his attention back to his friend. "You just concentrate on what you have to do today. On being with your family. Alright?"

Ron nodded and looked ahead, towards the large metal door in front of them.

"Okay, Harry. I'll try."

They had reached the end of the Hogwarts grounds and his heart began to pound, aware of what was ahead of him.

"Ready?" Ron asked, looking at his friends.

Harry and Hermione were paler than usual, but he could see the determination in their features. They nodded and began to walk forward, crossing the door. Before following them, Ron turned one last time towards Hogwarts. The school, bathed in sunlight, looked quiet and peaceful. No one could have imagined that only days before there had been a battle there, one that had taken lives and caused so much pain and sorrow. He shook his head, turning to his friends.

The midday sun was shining through the doorway and creating shadows that fell across the road in front of it, darkening it. Harry and Hermione were waiting there, wands in their hands, ready to Appear. Ron fumbled in his pocket until he found his own wand. He hesitated for a moment, a heartbeat. Then he took a deep breath, gathering his courage. After another heartbeat, he followed them.

Although the War was over, the Weasleys still maintained the magical defenses around the Burrow. For that reason, Harry, Ron and Hermione had Apparated a hundred yards from the entrance, just where the shield around the house ended.

Mr. Weasley was waiting for them in the middle of the unkempt garden, also dressed in elegant black robes. He greeted them warmly, hugging them one by one, but Harry could see the stiffness in his smile. Strange and forced, it looked as if his face had forgotten how to do it. His heart shrank at the thought, and he was suddenly aware of the weight of the Stone in his pocket.

Arthur motioned for them to follow him, and Harry glanced around. Dozens of Weasleys scattered around the garden were talking quietly amongst themselves, some sitting at the tables that had been set up for the occasion. Mr. Weasley led them towards the house at a fast pace, nodding when they came across a group of people but not stopping to chat. Swallowing, Harry remembered Bill and Fleur's wedding and how those same tables had been filled with smiling people eager to eat, dance and celebrate the occasion. He could feel his head spinning, just by thinking about how quickly things had changed. There would be a meal and a ceremony that day too, but it would have nothing to do with the happiness and joy of a wedding.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them inside the house, also dressed in black robes and matching dark circles under her eyes. She hugged Ron and Hermione, and then did the same to Harry.

"Hi, sweetheart, how are you?"

Hearing that affection and warmth in her voice, after everything that had happened, was too much for Harry. He blinked rapidly a couple of times before answering.

"I'm... er... I'm fine. I'm... I'm managing." He added, more honestly. "Little by little Mrs. Weasley."

Molly smiled at him, pain in her eyes, and started patting his cheek.

"Harry, darling. With all we've been through... You know you can call us Molly and Arthur, right?"

The boy nodded, he was aware, but it felt odd to change their names after so long. Still, he was right.

"I know. Thank you, er... Molly."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him again, giving him those pats again. Pam, pam, pam.

"Good boy." She said. Like she said to her children. Like she used to say to Fred. Like Lily would have said to him if she were still alive. The weight of the Stone increased a little more.

"Harry." Arthur called to him, snapping him out of his stupor. "The others are upstairs. Ron and Hermione just went up, if you want to go too."

The boy nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Weasley. Arthur." He added to Molly's watchful gaze. "I'll be right up."

He waved goodbye and started going up the stairs that led to the upper floors of the Burrow. He passed Fred and George's room, with the resulting twinge of pain in his chest, and continued walking until he reached Ron's room. He could hear the sound of voices coming from it. Bill and Charlie, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, were inside. He approached the doorway and, upon seeing him, the two brothers greeted him with welcoming expressions. Once the greetings were over, Harry looked around and realized that some of the siblings were missing. He was about to open his mouth to ask about it when Bill, who had caught his glance, said:

"If you're looking for the others, Ginny went the bathroom, George is in the garden, and Percy went to get the last of the Weasley's relatives."

"They have been having trouble at the border." Added Charlie, "People are still nervous after the War, and the Ministry doesn't want to risk Death Eaters getting in or out of the country. It's been a bit chaotic, but it should be sorted by now. It shouldn't take long for them to be here."

Harry nodded, grateful for the explanation.

A few seconds passed in silence until he realized that the room looked different. He hadn't seen it when he had first walked in, but now that he noticed, it was obvious. Next to him, Ron also seemed to have seen it because he turned in Charlie's direction and said:

"I see you've been staying in my room."

The walls were still covered with his Chudley Cannons posters, but the rest of his things were gone, replaced by his brother's belongings. Dragon encyclopaedias and books in Romanian lined the shelves and Ron could see a fireproof cloak hanging on the coat rack. He had seen Charlie dressed in it on more than one occasion.

Yes..." Said his brother. "Ginny got mine when I moved to Romania and Bill is sharing his with Fleur. You were at Hogwarts, so..."

Ron nodded. In other times he might have been angry, but after what had happened, things like that were unimportant.

Bill misunderstood his silence.

"Don't worry, we didn't throw anything away. Mum has put all your stuff in the cupboards." He said. "I helped her create an extension charm on them so everything would fit."

"Thank you." The boy replied in a quiet voice. He had slept in that room all his life, but without his things, he almost had trouble recognizing it as his own. Or perhaps the reason was something else. Between the search for the Horcruxes and the War, he hadn't been in the house for almost a year. It was still home, but it felt different. It felt strange to be there. Too much had changed. Especially him. He was not the same person who had grown up, played, and laughed within those walls.

"I didn't know you had already arrived." Ginny's voice from down the corridor startled him. Ron turned and there stood his sister, her long red hair standing out against the black of her robes.

"We just did." Hermione said, coming over to give her a hug which the girl returned. "How are you, Ginny?"

"Tired, actually. It hasn't been an easy few days..."

"I imagine..." Hermione said, pulling away to make room for Ron. The boy walked over to greet his sister.

"What about you guys? How are things at Hogwarts?"

"Strange." He acknowledged. "They seem to be getting better one day and worse the next.

Ginny nodded.

"I hear you. It's been pretty much the same here..."

After those words, the girl turned to look at Harry. It had been less than two weeks since they had last been in the same room together, but, seeing her, the boy's heart began to pound, suddenly realising how much he had missed her.

"Hello, Harry."

"Hi..."

She reached out to hug him, and when she did, Harry had to remind himself that they were surrounded by people. As much as he wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go again, this wasn't the time or place for it. They could make up for lost time in the future. So, summoning all his willpower, he took half a step back, leaving a little space between them. Ginny smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, causing his heartbeat to quicken even more.

"Ahem..." Ron coughed, though with less awkwardness than he usually showed. "Can you explain to me a bit what the... schedule is, shall we say. I've seen there are tables in the garden, so I'm guessing there's going to be a big meal, right?"

Bill sighed.

"Yeah... Keeping the Weasley tradition, Mum and Dad decided that before the funeral they were going to have a meal with all the relatives. They've been preparing it for days. I tried to reason with them, tell them it wasn't necessary. That we could have the ceremony without having to feed several dozen people..." Bill shook his head, showing how well that conversation had gone. "But, as you can see, they didn't listen to me. I suppose keeping busy helps them... But honestly, it seems a bit much to me."

Ginny snorted, showing her disapproval.

"Same here... And it's not just the food. It's also the fact that there are so many people. Fred wouldn't care about any of these Weasleys who don't even know his name. It should have been just us. Close family and friends."

Charlie bit his lip, showing some discomfort.

"Come on, don't be like that... They may not have known Fred very well, but they've come to pay their respects. And to support mum and dad. There are some relatives that they were pretty close to years ago, even if we don't know them. Dad has told me that they went to live in other countries and that's why they lost touch a bit. But they have come from far away to try to cheer them up. We should be grateful."

Ginny sighed in frustration, but then looked down.

"Looking at it like that..." She didn't finish the sentence because, although she understood what her brother was saying, she would have liked things to be different.

"Look," Charlie told her seriously, "I understand that having to do this with so many people isn't easy. It feels more like a show than something intimate and ours, doesn't it? But it also makes you realise how loved Fred is. As well as our family. Not everyone has a funeral so full of people."

Ginny bit her lip.

"I understand what you mean... But at the same time, I would have preferred something more private. And as for the food... How can we eat when we're going to…?" She swallowed, trying to keep her composure. "...When we're going to bury Fred in a few hours?"

Those words came down on everyone hard. They knew what was going to happen during that afternoon but thinking about it like that was painful.

"Ginny..." Bill interjected. "I know it seems like a very final thing, ¿doesn't it? It seems like once we've done it, there's not going to be anything after. There's no going back. But that's not true. Today doesn't change anything. It's a formality and something we have to do to begin to accept it. But we can have a thousand ceremonies for Fred if that's what you want. Just us. Where there is food or where there isn't."

The girl listened to those words, nodding slowly.

"I'd like that. Something smaller. Just us. His family and friends. And there should... There should be fireworks." She smiled, with her gaze lost somewhere on the wall. "The kind he loved so much. And there should be music. And butterbeer. And laughter. And-" Her voice broke, and a few tears ran free down her cheeks.

Harry, who had been listening to her intently, heartbroken, stroked her back with his hand, trying to show his support. Seconds passed, the silence in the room broken only by the girl's sniffles and hard breathing. Slowly, partly thanks to the warmth of Harry's hand on her back, Ginny regained her composure.

"It's all right." She told them, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "It's not the first time I've cried today, and it won't be the last... It is what it is. And it would be strange not to do it."

Bill, who had moved closer until he was standing in front of his sister, smiled sadly at her.

"You're right, Ginny. And we have to get it out. No point in keeping it hidden inside. Otherwise, it gets stuck, okay?" He said, looking into her eyes until she nodded. "Right. And that goes for all of us, eh? We didn't survive this bloody war to end up rotten inside."

Bill's words echoed in the room, his serious voice and solemn expression causing the others to nod as well, accepting them. The boy was exercising his role as big brother, using his authority and experience.

"Right." Bill continued. "Are you a bit better?"

Ginny nodded, her eyes slightly red, but calmer.

"All right." Bill continued. "Then I'm going to go downstairs and see if Mum and Dad need help with anything. I don't know if the rest of you want to come too..."

"I do. I'll come with you." Charlie told him, getting up from the bed he was sitting on.

Harry had opened his mouth to answer when Ginny grabbed his hand.

"I wanted to talk to you for a second, if you don't mind."

The boy looked at her for a moment, surprised, but then nodded.

"Of course not. We can talk for as long as you want."

Ginny smiled sweetly at him and then turned her attention to Ron and Hermione, as Bill and Charlie left the room.

"We'll be in my room, then." She told them. "I'll just be a few minutes, are you two going to be alright on your own?"

Hermione nodded.

"Don't worry about us, Ginny. We'll find something to do, won't we?"

Ron smiled at her.

"That's right. I'd like to check the cupboards, see if it's true that none of my things have been thrown out."

That was going to be a waste of time, Ron was sure of it. He was aware that his brothers wouldn't have thrown anything without asking first and he knew that, most certainly, he would find every single one of his belongings inside the drawers. The problem was that he needed to keep busy until lunchtime and that was a good distraction.

"Go, really." Hermione said to Ginny and Harry, who were still standing in the doorway. "I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about."

Ginny thanked her with a nod and then gently tugged Harry to come with her. The boy followed her, walking down the corridors of the Burrow and remembering other times together with her, under that same roof. Happier times.

They reached her room, and she sat down on the bed, gesturing for him to do the same. Harry did so, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his legs over the sheets.

"So... what did you want to talk about?" He asked. He could feel Ginny's knee next to his. The warmth it exuded.

"I... Several things, actually. First, I wanted to know how you were doing. And also, how these past few weeks at Hogwarts have been going."

Harry breathed in, not knowing where to start.

"Let's see... I'm feeling probably the same way that you are. Strange, tired, and sad. Exhausted, even though there's not much going on. But, at the same time, having the feeling that everything is changing at an incredible speed. And that makes me a bit dizzy. Does that make sense?"

"It does." She told him. "Because I feel the exact same way.

Harry smiled. That was one of his favorite things about his relationship with Ginny, how they understood each other.

"I'm also a bit confused about not having to think about fighting anyone." Continued the boy. "I'm not used to living without being in constant tension."

"I hear you... I still carry my wand with me all the time. Even in the shower or when I go to the bathroom. I don't feel calm if I don't have it within arm's reach."

Harry nodded.

"I know what you mean."

"It's so unfair that we have to feel this way..." She sighed wearily. Then she shook her head, pushing the feeling away. "Changing the subject, how did it go with Snape? Dad told me he had woken up."

Harry knew that Mr. Weasley must have heard the news from Ron. They were still trying to keep Snape's survival a secret, at least until the professor was feeling a little better, and there weren't that many people at Hogwarts who were aware of what had happened.

"It went well. More than well, actually. I have gone to talk to him every day and... He has been helping me a great deal."

"In what way?"

"With the War. Everything it's left me with. My emotions, the traumas, all that. I know it's hard to believe, but... He's changed. I don't know if it's because Voldemort's gone or because we understand each other better now, but... He's been helping me." He repeated. "I know it might sound weird, but..."

"Not at all." Ginny told him. "I mean, if I think of Snape as the bat of the dungeons, I can't imagine him being particularly kind and patient with anything to do with emotions. But with the new information about his past... What you said about him being friends with your mother and loving her... Then I totally get it. I'd want to take care of and protect your son too if you weren't around, Harry. Even if he wasn't mine. Even if he wasn't mine. He would still be a part of you."

The boy looked into her eyes, touched by those words, and also surprised by the comparison. He had never thought about his situation with Snape in that way. He imagined himself twenty years in the future, protecting Ginny's son with another man. He added to the mix the fact that this other man was his enemy and that both he and Ginny had died in part because of Harry. His head began to hurt just thinking about it, but he also understood Snape a little better.

"I hope it doesn't happen." He said finally.

"Me too." She smiled. "But tell me a bit more about Snape. Now I'm intrigued."

Harry swallowed.

"If you want, I can tell you all about it. But it'll be a bit of a long story..."

"Don't worry about that, we still have time until they call us for lunch. And I like listening to you talk."

The boy smiled. Then he cleared his throat and began to explain to her what had happened during the last few weeks. He told her about the moment Snape opened his eyes, about that first conversation and how they had come to a certain cordiality. His voice trembled a little as he described what had happened in Hagrid's hut, how much the funeral had frightened him, and how Snape had been patient with him. How he had listened to him and helped him manage his emotions, how he had conjured the Patronus to comfort him and keep him calm. Harry's face broke into a smile as he remembered the feel of the doe in his arms, conveying his mother's love to him. Finally, he explained that Snape had told him that he needed to talk to his friends, tell them what had happened and use the support and understanding that only they could provide. The only thing Harry kept to himself was that last conversation about the Stone. He was a bit surer of what he wanted to do, but he still needed to talk to the other Weasleys before he didn't have any doubt.

"And that's it..." Harry finished.

"Not bad." Ginny said, taking in all that new information.

"What do you think?"

"Honestly? I'm happy for you. I never would have thought Snape would be able to help you like this, but I'm glad he is. And not just for you. But most of all, for him.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and settled against Harry, resting her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head to place a kiss on her red hair. He smelled her perfume, and his mind took him back to the happiest months of his life, during his sixth year, when he and Ginny had been together. So much had changed since then, but Harry wished with all his being that he could recapture the feelings and magic of those days.

"I mean, you have us, Harry." Ginny explained, snapping him out of those thoughts. "So many people who love you and care about you. But Snape is alone. He has been all his life from what you tell me. Until now." She smiled. "So, I'm really happy for him. You're helping him to open up, Harry. To have that support he was telling you about."

The boy tilted his head.

"Maybe you're right... But I don't really know if that's what he wants, though. Sometimes I get the feeling he'd rather I leave him alone so he can be on his own.

"That's like when Mom says she doesn't need help doing the dishes. It's just a facade. If you insist a bit or start cleaning with her, you can see the gratitude on her face." Ginny smiled. "I'm sure it's the same with Snape."

"I hope you're right. Because he doesn't deserve to be alone. Not after all he's been through."

"I like that you think so." Ginny told her honestly. "That even with everything that's happened... You still care about others."

The girl sat up and turned, so she could look him in the face. Harry's heart began to pound as he saw the intensity in her dark eyes. After a few seconds, her gaze dropped to his lips, and Harry instinctively crossed the distance between them. The kiss began slowly, tentatively, but gradually deepened. Both of them put into it all the sadness and pain they carried inside, but also the affection and love they had for each other. That passion that had not been extinguished even after so many months away from one another. When they finally separated a few centimeters, still holding each other and leaning their foreheads together, they were both breathing heavily, and their cheeks were tinged with red.

"I've missed you so much." Harry whispered. The pain was still inside him, but moments like that anchored him in reality, reminding him how beautiful it could be to be alive.

"Me too." Ginny told him, swallowing and trying to catch her breath. "Actually, this was something else I wanted to talk about. Though I seem to have already gotten my answer." She said with a small smile. "I wanted to ask you if you had thought about us."

Harry nodded and stroked her cheek with sparkling eyes.

"I've thought about us a lot. I think I've made that clear." His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't look down as he said it.

"Yes, I think you have."

Harry smiled at her, giving her another kiss, though this one was a quick and sweet one.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here these past few days." He told her suddenly, unable to contain himself. The words had come out of his mouth without even thinking them. Now that he had her in front of him, the guilt had surfaced again. "I'm sorry that I've left you alone when you needed it most."

She looked at him in confusion.

"What? Come on, Harry, don't say such things..."

"But it's the truth." He said firmly. "You needed support and I... I haven't been up to the task."

"Harry..."

"It's the truth." He repeated. "I wasn't able to deal with certain things. I couldn't. But now I can. I feel stronger. And I won't hide again, I promise. I'll be there when you need me."

Ginny took his hand in hers.

"Harry, listen to me carefully. I appreciate what you're saying. But you don't have to apologize. Listen to me." She repeated as she saw that he wanted to retort. "We're all feeling like shit. Maybe you needed space and to 'hide', as you say, so you wouldn't have to think about certain things. So what? It's normal. We're all trying to manage this as best we can. And I'm never going to blame you or get mad at you for it."

"Ginny..."

"You think I'm doing any better? I'm irritable, everything annoys me. I get angry for no reason. I've had more fights with Mum in these last few days than I had the rest of my life. I find her insufferable when she talks to me. My own mother..." She shook his head. "And when I go to sleep, I think about all this and feel guilty... But then the next day I do it all over again."

Harry didn't know what to say to make her feel better, so he hugged her even tighter.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. It's so unfair that you have to go through all this..."

"Yes. But it is what it is. But I'm trying to be better, you know?" She told him. "When I feel like I'm filling up with anger and I'm going to explode, I leave the room and try to tone down the anger. It works sometimes. Other I just start crying. That helps, too, though."

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't know what to say or what to do."

"You don't have to say or do anything. Time just has to pass. And we have to learn to live in this new reality."

Harry nodded, though he remained silent.

"At least I'm glad to hear that you're doing a little better, Harry. It's important that you notice some evolution... If you weren't..." She shook her head. "If you weren't you'd be like George."

"Merlin... Is he still the same as when you left Hogwarts?"

She nodded wearily.

"Yes... He hardly speaks and it's hard for him to look you in the face. He eats when Mum puts a plate in front of him and goes to bed when we do... But I don't know if he sleeps, judging by those huge dark circles under his eyes. And he spends his days in the garden, where we used to play Quidditch."

Harry listened to those words with concern on his face.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny. Is he there now? In the garden?"

The girl nodded.

"Yes, he was there the last time I looked."

She carefully separated herself from Harry and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains. From the bed, the boy could see the backyard of the Burrow. The area where he had played Quidditch with the Weasleys during so many summers was still there, but several rows of chairs had been placed on it. In front of the seats was a brown coffin and Harry's stomach turned at the sight of it. Sitting in one of the chairs closest to the casket was a red-haired figure Harry recognized instantly. George.

"He's been sitting in that chair every day since we got back from Hogwarts. He only moves to go to the toilet, eat and sleep. Mum had to convince him to take a shower and change his clothes. I can't tell you what it took to get him into his black robes this morning..." Ginny sighed, exhausted, as Harry got out of bed.

The Stone in his pocket grew even heavier. The boy wondered how he was able to stand with that weight on him.

"Do you think... Do you think I could go and talk to him before the funeral?" He asked Ginny with a dry throat.

She was silent for a few moments, watching him.

"Sure, Harry." She said finally. "I'm sure he'd like to see you."

The boy nodded.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Actually, I wanted to go see my parents. Ask them if I could help them with anything." She said. "But if you need me to, I'll come with you."

Harry shook his head.

"Don't worry, I can do it alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah. Really."

"Okay." Ginny said. "I'll see you in a bit then." She leaned in for a quick kiss and Harry kissed her back, though his mind was focused on what he had to do next.

Ginny left the room and Harry followed her down the stairs to the Burrow's kitchen. Molly was there, conversing quietly with Bill and pointing her wand at a tray full of food. Actually, Harry noticed, the countertops and the kitchen table were full of them, filled with different dishes. From the looks of it, the spell Mrs. Weasley was applying was keeping the food in perfect, just-cooked condition. Harry could see the smoke from the stew petrified in the air, frozen in time. In another situation he would probably have stopped to ask her about it, full of curiosity. At that moment, however, he had more important things to do. And so, he nodded goodbye to Ginny and left the room, closing the entrance door behind him.

---

He walked at a fast pace towards where George was sitting, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He was about ten meters away from the chairs when, at the sight of the coffin, his legs stopped working. He was suddenly aware that the wooden box was not only that, but that inside it there was Fred's lifeless body. He swallowed, realizing that his mouth was dry. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the casket was still there, its presence unavoidable. His hands began to shake, and Harry tried with all his might to remember his conversations with Snape, how he had managed to calm him down. But with the coffin only a few feet away from him it was proving difficult to concentrate on anything but his racing heart and the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

"Harry." The murmur came from somewhere close to his right and, while it didn't completely snap him out of that shock, it was enough to distract him and allow him to take a big breath of fresh air. Thanks to it, Harry was able to clear his head a little and realize that it was George who had spoken to him.

The boy was still staring at the coffin, but his head was turned slightly in his direction. The sight of him sitting there, with those dark circles under his eyes and that empty expression, stirred something in Harry. George needed him and he couldn't afford to let his own fears get the better of him. He had to be strong for his friend. So, he approached carefully and sat down in the chair next to him, facing the coffin.

"Hello, George, how are you?" He asked carefully.

The expression on the boy's face didn't change.

"I'm fine, Harry."

The boy nodded, though he obviously didn't believe those words at all. A few seconds passed in silence as Harry searched his head for something to say that would wake the boy up. He knew that nothing could bring the old George back, but all Harry wanted was to see a glimpse of the smiling, cheerful boy he used to be. To make sure that he hadn't died with Fred.

"They will bury him here, you know." George said suddenly, startling him. "Right here."

Harry looked up at him and could see the biggest pain in his eyes. His gaze was still locked on the coffin, as if his eyes could pierce the wood and see the body lying in it. His brother's body. His twin. His other half.

"We used to play Quidditch here, remember, Harry?" George continued, in a whisper. "Every summer when we came back from Hogwarts. And before that, when we were little. We learned to play Quidditch here." His lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We used Bill and Charlie's old brooms, and Mum was so worried... We were so young, you know? And she suffered for us. But she didn't have to. We had each other's back. We made sure the other wouldn't get hurt. No more than a few scratches, at least." Tears had started to fall down Harry's face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to interrupt him. "We protected each other, you know? If he fell off the broom, I was there to catch him. And he did the same for me... Yeah..." He whispered. "He did the same for me..."

George's voice trailed off, as the knot in Harry's stomach tightened even more. He wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. He desperately wanted to help him. To do or say something that would make him feel better. But there was only one thing he could do. Something that, in the whole world, only Harry could give him. He put his right hand in his pocket and squeezed the Stone tightly, before taking a deep breath and saying:

"George, I know there's nothing I can say to make this better. But... could you answer me one question?"

The boy shrugged and Harry took that as an indication to continue.

"I... I wanted to ask you if...if being able to talk to Fred, say goodbye to him, would help you a bit."

George blinked slightly, the only sign that he had heard Harry's words, but the boy could see how his hands had begun to shake.

"It would help." He said, with longing in his voice. "But that's impossible. There is no magic capable of bringing back the dead." His face returned to a mask of impassivity, void of the emotions that had filled it a few seconds ago.

Harry bit his lip. He had noticed that change. The thought of Fred, of being able to talk to him again, had awakened something in the boy.

"You're right. There's nothing that can bring them back to life. But... I heard a rumor once. The existence of an object that made it possible to see them again, to talk to them." He said cautiously, avoiding telling the whole truth. "And I thought it would help me, personally, to be able talk to my parents. Or Sirius. Saying goodbye to them, you know?"

Something other than the pain and emptiness that had plagued George's face for days appeared on the boy's features.

"I wish I could do it." He whispered, trying not to show how much he wanted it. "Being able to talk to him one more time. Tell him that... That I'm sorry I couldn't protect him... So sorry…" George blinked and a tear fell onto his lap, wetting his hands. Feeling the humidity on his skin surprised him. He brought his left hand up to his eye level, staring at the small drop with curiosity. It was the first time he had cried in days. "But this is nothing but a fantasy. It's never going to happen." His face had hardened, pushing away that glimmer of hope. "There's no point in thinking about it.

Harry, who had watched the scene with mixed emotions, nodded.

"Maybe…"

George said nothing, focusing his attention on the coffin again. The impassivity had returned to his features.

"It was nice talking to you." Harry told him anyway, rising from his seat. "I'm going to see if your parents need any help. See you later, George."

The boy nodded slightly but didn't even look in his direction as Harry walked away from him, deep in thought. Using the Stone might affect the Weasleys, and he was sure it wouldn't be easy for them to let Fred go a second time, but the alternative was even worse. He didn't want to live out the rest of his days knowing that he could have done something to remedy George's empty face and blank stare, but he hadn't. If there was a chance, however small, of making things better, Harry had to take the risk. Not just for the boy, but for the rest of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had the right to be able to say goodbye to their son, as did Ginny, Ron, and the other siblings. If they needed to talk to Fred to be able to start healing, he was going to offer them that opportunity.

Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the Stone once more, feeling the hard edges against his palm. Then he started walking towards the Burrow, with determination in his features.

Harry walked into the kitchen, still holding the Stone between his fingers, and searching for Ron and Hermione with his eyes. He found them in the corner of the room, talking quietly. He approached them, nervous to share his decision, but certain, finally, that it was the right one.

"Harry." Hermione said when she saw him. "Are you alright?"

That was a common phrase these days. They asked it to each other all the time, even though they knew no one was okay.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He said, after all, dropping the stone back into his pocket. "I went to see George."

At the sound of his brother's name, Ron looked down. He hadn't gone to greet him yet and he felt guilty about it, but at the same time, he didn't have enough energy to deal with that blank stare that reflected his own pain.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said to them, regaining his friend's attention. "Remember what I told you this morning, when we were at Hogwarts?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, attentive to his words.

"Well... The thing is, I've made a decision. Talking to the other Weasleys has helped me to get a clearer picture and I'm now sure of what I need to do. But first I wanted to explain it to you. Especially you, Ron. To see what you think. Obviously, I won't do anything unless you agree to it as well."

The boy looked at him, taking in that new information.

"I'm glad you've made up your mind. I have to admit, I'm curious to know what it is. But let's go somewhere a little more private." He murmured, pointing his head at Mrs. Weasley. Molly was finishing all the details of the meal, glancing over each tray, and waving her wand from time to time.

"We could go to the living room." Hermione suggested.

Ron nodded.

"Good idea."

Before following them, Harry glanced around for Ginny, feeling somewhat disappointed that he didn't find her. He supposed she was with Mr. Weasley on the front lawn, so he decided that he would go looking for her later, after he had finished his conversation with Ron and Hermione.

After checking that the living room was empty, the three friends sat down on the old sofas. Harry remembered how almost a year ago the Minister of Magic had handed them Dumbledore's will in the same place. A small part of him wondered who Fred had left his belongings to. Then he noticed that both Ron and Hermione were watching him expectantly and he cleared his throat, remembering what he had to tell them.

"Okay..." The boy began. "First of all, Ron, I think it's important that I remind you of what I said this morning. I need you to be aware that... what I've thought about doing, what I'm going to explain to you... It could affect you negatively. You and your family, if you decide to go through with it.

"I understand."

"And you still agree to go forward with this?

"Yes, I do. I trust you, Harry."

At those words, the boy swallowed.

"All right." Harry took a deep breath, putting aside his fears. "First of all, I have to ask you a question."

"Anything you want."

"Do you remember that mirror we found during our first year, the one where I could see my parents?"

Ron nodded.

"Yes, I do."

"And do you remember how it affected me?"

That longing on Harry's face was hard to forget and Ron nodded slowly. Beside him, Hermione watched the scene silently.

"I do."

"Good. Because I want you to keep it in mind and not forget how easy it is to get lost in dreams and fantasies." Harry said seriously.

Ron said nothing, but nodded.

"In my case," Harry continued, "being able to see my parents could have been a beautiful thing, but I became obsessed with that mirror." He explained, hoping with all his might that Ron could understand him. "I would sneak out at night and spend hours staring at it. If it wasn't for Dumbledore, I might still be there..." He shook his head. "And I don't want anything like that happening to you."

"Harry, I understand. I really do. You're not going to lose me, I promise."

The boy watched him for a few moments, wishing with all his being that it was true.

"I hope so. Because I think it's worth a try, even with that possibility. Though I need to know that you feel the same way. That you understand the risks and still agree."

Silence fell in the room, as Ron took in his friend's words. Fear, curiosity, and nervousness fluttered in his stomach, aware of the responsibility Harry had just placed on him. He didn't know exactly what he was referring to, but it was clear to him that, depending on his decision, his family's fate could change.

"I understand the risks." He said finally. "And I'm ready. Tell me what you had planned to do."

Harry took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the Stone for the umpteenth time that day, reminding him that what he was going to do next could affect Ron forever. Finally, placing his trust in his best friend's strength, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed them the ordinary looking black pebble, except for the Deathly Hallows sign engraved on it.

"This," he said slowly, "is the Resurrection Stone. It was inside the Snitch that Dumbledore left me."

Ron's mouth opened into a shocked expression, but no sound came out of it.

"I managed to open it just before I gave myself to Voldemort." He continued. "Dumbledore planned it that way so I could use it when I was about to die."

"Harry..." Ron had regained his voice, though it sounded weak, full of emotion. He swallowed, not quite sure what to say, and Harry took advantage of that to continue speaking.

"I used it to talk to my parents, Sirius and Remus. They were the ones who gave me the strength to sacrifice myself." Memories of that night filled his mind, as Ron and Hermione shuddered. Harry had never told them the details of what had happened.

"So, you mean the Stone works? That it could-?"

A longing expression had appeared on Ron's face. One the boy knew all too well.

"No." Harry cut him off, very serious. "It doesn't work. At least not how we would like it to." He said, looking at them straight into their eyes. "It doesn't bring the dead back. It only shows a shadow of what they were. This I want to make very clear." Those words could sound harsh, but they were necessary. Especially after seeing that gleam, that desire, in Ron's blue eyes. "You can talk to them, but they clearly don't belong in this world."

"But-"

"And insisting on keeping them here will only make things worse. For the living, but also for the dead."

The hope on Ron's features had been fading as the words reached his ears. When Harry's voice trailed off, the boy sank back into the sofa cushions, devastated.

"For a moment there I thought..." He muttered leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. "Merlin..."

Hermione put a hand on his knee, reminding him that she was there. It was unusual for her to be quiet for so long, but she knew Ron needed that silence to take in the whirlwind of emotions inside him. So did she, but she had already figured out that the Stone had something to do with what Harry was planning and so she hadn't been so surprised. Still, the situation was really getting to her. Even if Fred wasn't her brother, Hermione considered the Weasleys part of her family, and losing him had been very hard for her. If she didn't show it as much as she would like to, it was because Ron needed her support and she had to be strong for him.

"Ron?" Harry called out to him, concern in his eyes. "It's hard, I know. But remember everything I've told you, please. And what you promised me."

Ron slowly sat up and removed the hands that were hiding his face. Harry could see the glint of tears in his eyes.

"I hate this..." The boy muttered, blinking. "Why does everything have to be so hard? Why did something like this have to happen to us? Voldemort is gone. We could have a peaceful life at last... But no. My brother had to die."

Harry grimaced as he felt Ron's pain. It was so palpable, so real. It filled every inch of his best friend's face.

"I don't want this situation. I don't want it." He continued, like a sulking child.

The way he said those words, as well as the angry expression on his face, made Ron look much younger than his seventeen years. He almost looked like a kid throwing a tantrum. Pain used to have that effect. Harry knew it well. When faced with a situation like the loss of a loved one, the inner child would resurface, angry and refusing to accept the new reality.

"I know." Was all Harry could say. "I don't want it either.

Ron sighed deeply, looking up at the ceiling and blinking to keep the tears from falling. Harry and Hermione remained silent, giving the boy time. It took a few seconds until, sniffling through his nose and wiping away the unshed tears with the back of his hand, Ron managed to regain his composure.

"It's okay. I'm okay." He said finally, nodding to himself. Then, extending a hand towards Harry, he murmured, "Can I see it?"

The boy, still holding the Stone between his fingers, hesitated for an instant. But it was just that, an instant. He had decided to trust Ron, to the very end. So, pushing the doubts from his mind, he nodded and, carefully, deposited the pebble in the boy's hand.

When the Relic touched his palm, Ron breathed in sharply. Then he swallowed and stared at the Stone in silence. He studied it for a few moments without saying anything.

"So..." He began, his voice a little hoarse. "With this thing... you said we could talk to Fred?"

"That's right."

"But not bring him back."

Harry shook his head.

"No. I'm sorry, Ron."

"Okay."

The Stone glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window as Ron watched it, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself.

"Bad luck, really." He blurted out suddenly. "The Invisibility Cloak works perfectly, the Elder Wand too. It has to be the bloody Resurrection Stone that doesn't."

"Remember the tale of the three brothers." Hermione interjected, placing a hand on his arm. "The Stone never worked. The second brother tried to bring back his beloved, but he didn't succeed one hundred percent. And..."

"And in the end, he killed himself over it." Ron sighed. "Yes, I remember. And I understand your concern, Harry. This is... Difficult." He said, smiling ironically and holding up the Stone between his fingers. "We don't want it anyone to end up like the second brother..."

"No, we don't." Harry muttered, as Hermione shook her head.

"It's cruel. Not being able to bring him back, I mean."

"Yeah..."

"But, at the same time... Seeing him once more. Talk to him..." Ron's red eyes had regained some of their sparkle. He smiled and with a trembling voice said, "It would be... It would be something incredible."

Harry felt the knot in his stomach being replaced by pride towards his best friend. Ron was starting to let go of the disappointment and focusing on the silver lining, just what he had hoped he would.

"Alright." Ron said, nodding slowly. "I think...I think we should do it."

Harry let out the air he had been holding in, feeling a great relief at hearing those words.

"Are you sure?" He said, however. He had to know that Ron was completely on board with that plan.

"Yes." He said decisively. "I'm not going to deny that I'm a little worried about how the others are going to react. Especially George. Or Mum... But leaving them without the chance to say goodbye seems like a much worse alternative to me."

"I'm glad you think so." Harry smiled at him.

"So... How does it work, and when do we do it, before or after the funeral?"

"Maybe after the ceremony would be smartest." Hermione said. "I don't think we want word spreading about the Stone's existence. It would be better to do it after the other guests have left."

"Yes, you're right." Harry nodded. "And as for how it works... Don't worry, I'll use the Stone. I've done it before, so I know what to do." He didn't say out loud the real reason for that decision. That Ron might have been able to resist the temptation that the relic carried with it, but Harry knew it wasn't going to be that easy when he had Fred in front of him.

Ron watched him for a few moments. It was obvious that he knew what was going on. His hand trembled, twitching, almost closing over the Stone he was still holding. Harry and Hermione noticed that reaction, and so did Ron. The boy stared at his own fingers, surprised. A flash of fear appeared in his eyes.

"Here, take it." He said, hurrying to hand the Stone to Harry. The boy picked it up carefully, concern evident on his features.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. But you're right. That thing is... dangerous. For a moment, it reminded me of... of what the locket made me feel." Ron's face reddened, but his words were serious. That little voice inside him, trying to convince him to do and think things he would never do, had returned for a moment.

"Are you okay?" Hermione said, this time.

"Yes. But I think it's best if Harry takes care of all this. Let him decide when and how to do it."

The boy nodded but was still somewhat alarmed by the reaction he had just witnessed. He wondered again if this was the right thing to do. If he wouldn't be putting the Weasleys at great risk.

"Oh and, Harry." Ron's voice snapped him out of those thoughts. "This doesn't mean I'm backing out, okay? I still think it's a good idea. But you were right. We have to be careful."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"But..."

"But nothing. I know you're worried and you're thinking about what happened last winter. But, Harry, you don't have to. I've learned a lot from those days. Now I know when I'm in over my head. So, you take care of the Stone. I'll try to make the most of the extra time with my brother." He added with emotion in his eyes. "Okay?"

Harry swallowed, considering those words.

"Okay." He said finally. He then turned in Hermione's direction. "What do you think?"

The girl sighed.

"It's a complicated subject. It's true that there's a big risk involved, but as you rightly said, it's worth a try. The benefits clearly outweigh the possible negative outcomes."

Harry and Ron shared a look and smiled at each other: only Hermione could make a situation like that sound so mathematical.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing." Ron smiled at her, taking her hand. "Then it's settled, we'll do it after the funeral."

Harry nodded.

"Yes. And, back to the topic of how it works..." He bit his lip. "I know it's difficult, but I think the best option is to not use the Stone for too long. Just once and only for a few minutes. Agreed?"

Ron looked down. He was aware that it had to be this way, even if it hurt.

"Agreed."

"Good." Harry said, getting to his feet. "Then it's settled."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Ginny. I'd like to talk to her and explain the plan, do you know where she is?"

"Last time I saw her she was talking to Mr. Weasley in the garden." Hermione said, getting up from the sofa as well.

Ron was about to join his friends when the door opened, startling him. Molly came in at a brisk pace, stopping at the sight of them.

"Ah, there you are, boys. I've been looking all over for you. Percy's just arrived with the missing Weasleys. We're all waiting for you to start eating lunch."

"But..."

"But nothing. Come on, let's go." Molly gently pushed them towards the door. "Or the food's going to get cold."

The three friends exchanged a look. Apparently, the conversation with Ginny would have to wait.

"Okay, Mum. We are going, don't worry." Ron said opening the door that led to the garden and letting them through, before closing it behind him.

The tables were even more crowded than when they had arrived in the morning, with dozens of Weasleys sitting at them and filled with steaming dishes. Each one looked better than the last, flooding the air with delicious aromas and, at any other time, Harry's stomach would have growled at the sight of them. He glanced around, trying to find a free place to sit when he heard someone call out to him.

"Harry, over here!"

Sitting at a table, Charlie and George next to her, was Ginny. The girl pointed to the three empty seats next to her, gesturing for them to come over.

"Mum said we have to sit here." She explained. "She's over there with Dad, Bill, Fleur and her family..." Her dislike of the girl had lessened considerably as of late, but she still had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She was a little annoyed that she couldn't sit with the rest of her family. Especially on a day like that.

"I see." Ron said, sitting down next to Hermione and leaving the seat closest to Ginny for Harry, who thanked him with a nod.

"There you are." A voice behind them startled them. Harry turned and saw Percy, dressed in black like the rest of his family and with the same dark circles under his eyes. "Sorry I didn't greet you earlier, I had to go and find the last of the Weasleys that were missing..."

"Yeah, we've been told." Ron said, getting up again to hug his brother. "Trouble at the border, eh?

"Yes... It gets a bit annoying, but it makes sense. The Ministry can't risk the last remaining Death Eaters escaping and..."

Percy began to speak and never stopped. He paused briefly to greet Harry and Hermione, but then went on to explain what had happened at the border, the new measures the Ministry was taking, and how Kingsley was the best Minister of Magic he had ever seen. It seemed that Percy's obsession with government had returned once Voldemort had been defeated. His faith in the institutions had been renewed by seeing a wizard like Kingsley in power. Or perhaps, Harry thought, mechanically shoveling food into his mouth, Percy had latched on to anything that offered him some hope.

The rest of the meal passed without much incident. Harry ate in silence, while Percy and Charlie discussed various immigration and border control policies. Next to him, Hermione and Ron tried to convince George to eat something, exclaiming a little too forcibly about how good each of the dishes were. But George just drank water and nibbled on the occasional bread roll. Ginny wasn't very hungry either, and Harry watched her with concern, though he understood perfectly well. He would have liked to explain his plan to her, but with the others around it didn't seem like the best idea.

Finally, the meal was over, and Mrs. Weasley waved her wand, making the dishes, plates and cutlery disappear, as if they had never been there. Then, next to her, Arthur stood up and raised his wand to his throat, amplifying his voice.

"Hello, everyone. You know I'm not a man who likes to speak in public..." Mr. Weasley turned to smile in the direction of his children, though Harry could see the sadness on his face and his voice had begun to tremble. "But I wanted to thank you all for coming here today and for the support you have given me and the rest of my family. Now... If you could do me the favor of following me to the back of the garden, the ceremony will take place in a few minutes." He swallowed visibly and added, "Thank you."

A short man, whom Harry recognized as the wizard who had officiated at Dumbledore's funeral approached Mr. Weasley. The two began to speak in hushed tones, and Harry guessed that he would also be conducting the ceremony for Fred. That must have been a common occurrence at magical funerals. Sort of like the priests for Muggles. Christian Muggles, actually. Harry wondered if there were different religions in the magical world. He'd never really thought about it.

"Harry, are you ready?" Ginny's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The girl was standing next to him, looking scared.

"Huh?"

"I asked you if you're ready."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Yes, I am." He realized that wasn't a lie. "Or at least as ready as I'm ever going to be." He took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"You?"

"I'm afraid." She admitted, taking a deep breath. "But we have to do it for Fred."

Although anguish filled Ginny's face, Harry could also see the determination in her eyes. His heart swelled with pride at the girl's bravery.

"You're right. And you're not alone. I'm here." He told her seriously. "We're all here."

Ginny nodded and, still with her hand in Harry's she began to walk towards the back garden, tugging him gently. The boy followed her, passing next to Ron and Hermione. The three of them shared a look in which they said everything to each other that they couldn't with words, and so they gained enough strength to keep walking until they reached the coffin.

The other Weasleys were already sitting there, in the row of chairs right in front of the casket. There were still four empty seats, for Ron and Ginny but also for Hermione and Harry himself, and the boy was deeply touched when he saw it. Even at a time like this they had considered him part of the family.

Once they were all in their seats, the short wizard began to speak. Later, Harry would remember nothing of the ceremony. The wizard started reading some papers, talking about death and the afterlife. About the fact that Fred was no longer suffering and how he would be waiting for them in the future. And Harry just listened, thinking that Ginny had been right. That ceremony was entirely impersonal. It could have been Fred or anyone else who had died during the War, who was lying inside the coffin. The man's words lacked any weight because he hadn't known Fred and he didn't know what was gone. What was lost. The wrenching pain of knowing they would never hear his laughter again.

Harry started thinking that it was ridiculous to have been so afraid of the funeral, after all. Until the short wizard fell silent and Molly rose from her seat. She walked over to the coffin and, after caressing it lightly, turned around. Her hands were shaking, but Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath and began to speak. Her voice was weak, and tears were streaming down her face, but Molly Weasley did not break down. She spoke of Fred, of his life, of his strengths and weaknesses. Of how loved he had been and always would be. And when she had finished, her face broken with grief, but with so much love in her eyes that it hurt to look into them, Harry could feel Fred's presence as if he had summoned him with the Stone. Better even. For it was not a pale reflection of what the boy had been. But something complete, full of love and life.

Blinking back tears, Harry watched as the rest of the Weasley family rose as well and joined their mother in front of the coffin. They embraced, Molly, Arthur and their six remaining children, and stood there for a few moments. Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley separated slightly and, pointing their wands at the ground, created a rectangular hole. The other Weasleys joined their parents and took out their wands as well. George turned and whispered something to his mother. She nodded and he bent down to place an object that Harry couldn't identify on top of the coffin. From a distance it looked like a piece of wood. Finally, the entire Weasley family pointed their wands at the coffin, levitating it and placing it gently into the hole. Arthur turned to his children once more and, after checking that everyone was ready, waved his wand to place the first amount of earth on top of the coffin. The others followed his lead, and, within seconds, the soil covered it completely.

Silence fell over the garden as the Weasley family returned to their seats. The short wizard spoke a few more sentences, thanking everyone for coming to say goodbye to Fred, but Harry was no longer listening. His eyes were fixed on the pile of dark earth covering his friend's lifeless body. He took a deep breath, his mind flooded with memories. The first time he saw Fred and the last. As well as hundreds of moments between the two of them, filled with laughter, banter, and conversations. His heart shrank at the thought that, if he had so many memories of the boy, he couldn't imagine what his family would be remembering.

Harry stayed like that for a long time, staring at that spot and hundreds of vivid moments dancing in front of his eyes. He was unaware that most of the guests were rising from their chairs, approaching the mound of earth to pay their respects, and then bidding farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with hugs or heartfelt words. Minutes passed until, suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Hermione.

"Harry, are you alright?"

The boy looked around. The chairs were empty and as he turned, he saw that the Weasleys were standing nearby the house, saying goodbye to the few remaining family members.

"Uh?"

"I asked if you are alright. We left you alone for a while because you looked like you needed it. But it's getting late."

Hermione was right. The light had dimmed considerably since the funeral had begun. It wasn't night yet, but the sun's rays didn't have that midday glow.

"Yes." He said, though he didn't believe it himself. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Almost everyone's gone..." Hermione replied. "I mean, in case you want to do you-know-what."

Harry blinked, suddenly remembering the existence of the Stone and the plan he had formed with his friends.

"Yeah, you're right. For a second there I'd forgotten."

Hermione smiled sadly at him.

"Don't worry. It's normal."

Harry watched her for a few moments intently. Her eyes were red and there were dry tears on her cheeks.

"Hermione... I'm sorry I didn't ask you back. Are you alright?"

The girl sighed.

"I have to admit, it was intense. And very sad... But beautiful at the same time. It's just..." She was silent for a few moments, something rare for her, searching for the right word. "It's hard. And I feel really sorry for the Weasleys and for us, but mostly for Fred. He deserved so much more."

Harry nodded.

"Yes. He deserved so much more."

There was nothing more to say, so Hermione took him by the arm.

"Come."

Together they approached the mound of earth and Harry found himself transported back to that Christmas night in Godric's Hollow, in front of his parents' grave. Hermione's presence comforted him, and he was glad to be there with her. Only the two of them could understand what it meant to not be a Weasley by birth, but still part of the family. They shared the same concern and care for that group of redheads they loved so much.

"We'll see that they get through this, Fred. I promise." Hermione whispered to the pile of sand, dust, and roots. "We'll take care of them."

Harry didn't think he was capable to talk, so he just nodded and placed a hand on Hermione's, conveying his affection.

The girl gave him a sad smile.

"Come on, let's go check on the others."

Harry nodded, taking one last look at the grave where Fred Weasley was already resting. The funeral had been hard, but he knew that now came the hardest part.

"Here, sweetheart."

Molly placed a steaming cup of tea in his hands.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled sweetly at him and nodded, accepting his thanks. She then leaned over to hand her drink to Ginny, who was next to him

They were in the living room of the Burrow, sitting on the sofas. The last of the relatives had left a few minutes ago, finally letting the silence and the quiet fall over the house. The sun was also leaving, painting the sky with warm colors in its departure. Harry watched it, admiring the reddish-orange light show. He held the mug in his hands and took a sip, feeling the warmth move from his fingertips to his chest.

Once Mrs. Weasley had handed everyone else their drinks, she set the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to her husband on the sofa opposite Harry. The boy exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione, deciding that the time had come. But before he could say anything, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, demanding the attention of everyone present.

"Kids, I know you're all exhausted. It's been a long, hard day... But I wanted to say that you've been very, very brave. And that both your mother and I are extremely proud of you." He said, his voice a little shaky. "We are lucky to have such amazing children. And you are handling all of this with a maturity that many adults would want for themselves."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, backing up each of those words.

"Yes, and that includes also both of you, Harry and Hermione." She added, with a sad little smile.

Harry swallowed, emotional, and returned the gesture. Then, he turned his gaze to the window once more, his green eyes scanning the sky. The beauty of that image, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's words, comforted his exhausted heart, giving him strength for what he had to do next.

"And I know you know..." Molly continued, regaining Harry's attention. "But if you need to talk to us, or anything, we're here. Don't forget that alright?"

The teenagers nodded, but said nothing, showing the weariness on their faces. Arthur noticed this and decided to change the subject.

"Right, having said that, I think we need to talk a bit about the logistics of tonight. As you know, Fleur has left with her parents so her bed in Bill's room is free. If Charlie doesn't mind," He added, looking at his son, who shook his head, "he can sleep there tonight. So, your room, Ron, is free for the three of you."

"Thank you, Dad." Said the boy, who hadn't even thought about it. Knowing where he was going to sleep hadn't been one of his priorities that day.

"Why, 'thank you'? This is your house. Besides, it's already too late to go back to Hogwarts. Although I don't know why you'd go back to school for the summer..." Arthur muttered to himself. "But, well, we'll discuss this another time."

Ron thanked him with a nod, he didn't feel like talking about his future in that moment.

"Alright." Mr. Weasley continued. "Then we'll just need to conjure up a couple of beds for Harry and Hermione."

"I'll take care of that, sweetheart." Molly told him, seeing the exhaustion on her husband's face. "By the way, I don't think anyone's hungry, right?"

They all shook their heads.

"If you change your minds, there's plenty of food left over. It's in the fridge."

"Thanks, Mum." Bill said, though his stomach had been closed since the funeral.

No one said anything else, and silence fell over the room, prompting another glance between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The boy finished his tea, which had already begun to cool, and nodded in the direction of his friends, indicating that the time had come. Ron paled slightly but his face showed determination. Beside him, Hermione visibly took a deep breath, preparing herself.

"Er... I know, as Dad said, we're all exhausted. But Harry, Hermione and I have something to tell you guys... Something very important." Ron took a second to calm his nerves. Then he took a deep breath and, knowing that if he waited too long, he would start to have second thoughts, he said: "I know it might sound crazy, but there is a way to talk to Fred again. And we could do it right now if you want."

Harry mentally braced himself, waiting for the reactions of the others. He looked around, focusing on each of the Weasleys. He started with Ginny, who was sitting next to him. The girl had turned to look directly at him, with a hundred questions in her eyes, but also a glint of hope in them. Harry nodded, but made no further explanation, turning his attention to George. The boy also had that glint in his eye, though it was mixed with distrust, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. On the other side of the room, Percy was watching Ron as if he had lost his mind, while Bill and Charlie shared a look of alarm, the wariness evident on their faces.

As for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Molly had put a hand to her mouth, letting out a cry of surprise at Ron's words; while Arthur, after putting an arm around her, had given his son a stern look.

"I don't think this is the best time to joke." He said very seriously.

"I'm not joking." Ron's voice sounded weak, so the boy cleared his throat, trying to show confidence. "I'm telling the truth. Explain it to them, Harry."

Everyone's gazes focused on him, and the boy lowered his own, uncomfortable, and wondering if it might have been a very bad idea.

"What Ron said is true." He explained, looking at the Weasleys one by one and reminding himself why he was doing that. "There's an artefact Dumbledore gave me. The Resurrection Stone, it's called. Legend has it that it was one of the objects Death gave to three brothers, but..."

Mrs. Weasley breathed in.

"The fable of the three brothers."

"What?" Arthur had turned to look at her, confusion on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"The tales of Beedle the Bard." She replied in a whisper. "We used to read them to the children when they were little. Before bedtime." The possibility of talking to Fred again filled every corner of her mind and she looked at Harry desperately, waiting avidly for him to continue talking.

"Wait a second, are you telling me that an object out of a children's story is going to allow me to talk to my son?" The pain had exhausted Arthur's patience.

"Dad, just hear what we have to say, okay? I know it's hard to believe but listen to us for two minutes. And that goes for everyone." He added, looking at the others. "Please."

Arthur looked his son in the eyes for a few moments. Finally, he sighed.

"Alright." He said, motioning Ron with one hand to continue.

The boy took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Dad. Like I said before, I know it sounds crazy. But the Stone is real. Dumbledore himself had it in his possession. And it works, in its own way. But it's also dangerous. So, you have to be careful when using it and..." He shook his head, realizing he wasn't explaining himself properly. "Harry? Help me?"

Everyone's attention turned to him again, and Harry could feel the weight of those stares and the expectations they carried with them.

"Er, yes... Dumbledore had the Stone for a while and gave it to me in his will. But I couldn't use it until a few weeks ago. Until I wasn't ready. He made sure of it. As Ron said, it's dangerous. And Dumbledore knew that from experience."

Mr. Weasley frowned.

"Wait a minute... During the battle, when you were talking to You-Know-Who..." He said closing his eyes as he remembered. "You mentioned that Dumbledore was already dying when Snape killed him. That they planned it together. So, was it because of this? Was it because of the Stone?"

Harry nodded.

"He too had lost many loved ones and thought the Stone could bring them back. He tried to use it without seeing that it was protected by a curse, and it poisoned him." The gazes of the other Weasleys were still on him, and Harry could almost see the pieces of the puzzle coming together in their minds. "Snape managed to contain it in his arm, but it was spreading as time went on. He wasn't going to survive much longer when he killed him."

At the mention of Snape, the Professor's face popped into his mind. He wondered if the man would be proud of him. For surviving the funeral and being able to tell the Weasleys about the Stone.

Meanwhile, Arthur had brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a lot to take in. The others also seemed a little dizzy by the amount of new information.

"What Harry says makes a lot of sense." Said Bill suddenly, who was slowly letting go of his initial skepticism. "Dumbledore's arm turned black. As if the flesh was rotting, even though he was still alive." He shook his head. "Something like that happens because of a very powerful curse. But if this one still protects the Stone... Won't it be too dangerous to try to use it?"

"Bill." Percy interjected. "You're not buying this story, are you?"

Ron gave him a dirty look and was ready to defend himself when Bill replied.

"Why not? Clearly grief can change people, but do you really think Harry, Ron and Hermione have changed enough to agree to lie to us about something so important?" Bill shook his head. "There are many branches of magic still unexplored, and many ancient artefacts lost. Is it so far-fetched to think that Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards who ever lived, found one that allows you to talk to the dead?"

Percy didn't know what to answer to that, so he swallowed hard and averted his gaze.

"So, you think it's possible?" Muttered Molly, who had been silent, hanging on his every word. "Is it possible to talk to my boy again?"

"I think we should let them explain." Bill said. "Starting with my question: how can we use the Stone if it's surrounded by such a powerful curse?"

"The curse no longer exists." Harry replied. "Dumbledore managed to remove it, so in that sense it can be used without risk..."

"The problem is another one." Ron interjected, lending his best friend a hand. It wasn't fair for him to have to face the questions alone. "I don't know if you all remember the story of the three brothers, but basically, the middle one uses the Stone to bring back his beloved. But she no longer belongs to the world of the living, and he ends up committing suicide when he realizes this." He looked his family in the eye, very serious. "That's where the real danger lies. We have to be able to talk to Fred and say goodbye. We have to be strong enough not to keep him trapped in this world. If we don't, it will only hurt us more and we could end up like the second brother..."

After those words, silence fell over the room. The skepticism had disappeared from Percy and Arthur's faces, giving way to a worried expression. But it was Molly who spoke first.

"Merlin... That's a lot to take it." She focused her attention on Harry and the boy watched her. Excitement, hope, longing, and fear filled her features. "Sweetie, you said you've used the Stone before?"

He nodded, choosing his words carefully.

"That's right. Only once. The night that... The night of the Battle. Before I gave myself to Voldemort. I spoke to Sirius and Remus, and my parents as well."

Mr. Weasley swallowed, taking Molly's hand, the hope on his wife's face had now appeared on his own, no matter how much he had fought against it.

"So how does it work? I mean, what can we expect? I think before we decide whether we want to do it or not, we should know as much as possible."

"Decide?" George's voice startled everyone. "What's there to decide? I want to talk to Fred - I want to see my brother!"

It had been weeks since George had shown that level of excitement and Harry shared a quick glance with Ron, somewhat alarmed.

"George, darling." His mother said. "Don't you think I desperately want to talk to him too? But I have to think of all of you as well. I don't want to risk losing any more children." Her voice broke. "What if some of us aren't able to say goodbye to him? What if you or Ginny or somebody else, ends up as the secondbrother? Have you stopped to think about it?"

The boy averted his gaze, trying to control his emotions.

"I get what you mean, okay? It's just... Merlin, it's hard..."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

Mrs. Weasley got up to hug him and George hugged her back, burying his face in her neck as she stroked his hair, comforting him.

Harry saw George's shoulders shaking, indicating that the boy was silently crying. He averted his gaze, giving him some privacy in the middle of the crowded living room. His eyes fell on Ginny, still sitting next to him. He had avoided looking at her because he knew that if he did, if he thought about losing her to the Stone, even for an instant, then he would change his mind. He knew the girl was strong and he trusted her, but the thought of endangering her sent shivers down his spine. He felt a warmth against his little finger and looked down in that direction. Ginny had brought a hand close to his. The expression on her face was questioning and Harry nodded, letting her intertwine her fingers with his.

"Are you alright?" he said, unable to contain himself, seeing a reddish mark on her bottom lip. Harry knew she must have been nibbling on it nervously.

Ginny blinked, emotions filling her eyes. Harry could see a mixture of worry and fear, but also anticipation in them.

"Sort of." She said. "This is... I don't know how to describe it. Important. Special. And it scares me. But I'm also aware that it's a gift. Something most people don't get."

Harry nodded slowly. Admiring as always her way of looking at the world and putting into words his own thoughts. He looked into her brown eyes and time seemed to stand still. The fear and sadness disappeared for an instant.

"Harry?"

Mrs. Weasley had stopped hugging George, but she was still next to him, sitting on the same sofa with an arm around his shoulders.

"Can you explain to us how the Stone works? Arthur's right, it's important to be prepared before making a decision."

The boy nodded, still holding Ginny's hand in his.

"Yes, of course. I've only used it once, so I'm no expert... But from the moment the person appears you can tell they're not really alive. It's something different, lighter. Different from a ghost or a Patronus." Everyone's eyes were on him, and Harry swallowed. Ginny gave him a squeeze and the boy breathed, taking strength from the gesture. "It's like a reflection of the person they used to be and, in the case of my parents, Sirius and Remus, no one else could see them. I don't know if Fred will be like that, something tells me he won't. I was surrounded by Death Eaters. People who didn't know or love them. And, obviously, I didn't want to share them with those people. But if you decide to talk to Fred... He's part of all of us. So, I think we'll be able to see him at the same time."

The Weasleys nodded at his words, realizing as the minutes passed that it was true what Harry was saying, that they could talk to Fred again. There was something else the boy wanted to make clear, so he hurried to do so.

"And as we've said a couple of times already, it's very important to keep in mind that this is temporary. That he's not here to stay. He's here to say goodbye. It will be very hard, but you have to be strong."

Silence returned once more to the room, as the Weasleys looked at each other. Finally, Molly, still sitting next to George said:

"Guys... this is a decision you each have to make on your own. You're all adults now. Or almost." She added in Ginny's direction. "And even though you're so young, you've also experienced so much... You've survived a war. You've fought. Lost loved ones. So your father and I can't tell you what to do. You have to think about whether you will be able to deal with this or not. I just ask you to be responsible and honest with yourselves."

Mr. Weasley, from the other sofa, looked at each of his children. He gave them a few seconds before asking:

"So, have you decided?"

They all nodded slowly and Arthur took a deep breath.

"Okay. All in favor of talking to Fred, raise your hand."

Some raised their arms immediately, like Ron, George and Molly. Others, like Percy and Charlie, took a little longer, hesitating for a second. But in the end, each one of the Weasleys had their hand in the air and Harry felt something in his chest clench tightly, aware that there was no turning back.

"All right. Before we start... do you have any other questions?"

To Harry's surprise, Percy nodded:

"Yes... I wanted to ask you... How long? How long do you think we can have with him?"

"It's not an exact science, but... I'd say half an hour. Longer seems risky to me."

There were a few expressions of protest, but Mr. Weasley silenced them with a gesture.

"Boys, boys. I know it's not long enough. But how long would it be? A day? A month? A year? No." Arthur replied, shaking his head. "We all want a life with Fred. Even more. Ten thousand more years with your brother. Eternity. But we know that's not possible. He's gone. And this thirty minutes that Harry is offering us is a gift. A chance to say goodbye. So, instead of protesting, think about what you wanted to say to him but couldn't. Okay?"

The others nodded and silence returned to the living room. Harry looked at Ron and noticed the frightened look on his friend's face. It had been one thing to plan that. It was one of the hundreds of plans they had hatched over the last seven years. But explaining it to his family, and seeing that it was so close, was scary. Ron's heart had begun to pound. He wasn't ready for it. He didn't want to see Fred again, knowing that this would be the last time. He wanted to keep the possibility tucked away in a drawer and open it at the right time. What if in two, three, twenty years, he needed to talk to his brother again, but he'd already burned that option? What if he was never going to be ready to say goodbye? What if...?

Feeling his panic, Hermione's hand rested on his shoulder.

"Ron. You're going to be fine. We'll all be together, okay? We'll get through this together."

"But what if I'm not ready?" he muttered, anguish in his voice.

"None of us are. But it has to be done. For Fred, for your family and for you. This could be the first step to healing."

Ron looked into her eyes for several seconds, calming his trembling heart.

"I understand what you mean. But it's all happening so fast. And we'll have so little time with him. What do I tell him? I've been thinking for weeks about what I would say to him if I could talk to him again and now I'm forgetting everything. It's like my head has suddenly emptied."

Hermione smiled warmly at him.

"It's okay. Give me a second." She pulled her wand out of her pocket and conjured a notebook and pen. "Think about Fred, take a deep breath and write down the first thing that comes to mind. It will help you unblock your mind. Keep writing without focusing too hard. Don't force it and it will come to you on its own."

Ron took the objects in his hands gratefully. Then he leaned back against the couch with the notebook on his legs and did as Hermione had told him. He imagined Fred's face, his laughing eyes He would see them again in a few minutes, and his heart skipped a beat, filled with sad joy. He took the pen in his right hand and began to write.

Hermione, who had been watching him, decided not to distract him, and turned in the direction of the others.

"Anyone else want one? To write down what you want to say to him?"

"What a good idea, Hermione." Molly told her, grateful to be able to focus her attention on something specific, instead of letting her nerves and anticipation get the better of her.

Soon, all the Weasleys had their own notebook. They wrote in silence for a few minutes, the rustle of quills breaking the nervous silence. Harry watched them, worried and with adrenaline coursing through his veins. He looked out of the window once more, trying to calm himself. The sun was gone for good, and a blanket of stars brought some light to the darkness of the night. He looked for the moon, too, but it must have been hidden behind some cloud, for he couldn't find it. That made him think of Remus, and his heart shrank. He wished he could talk to his old teacher, ask him what he thought of the whole situation with the Stone. His thoughts inevitably led him to Tonks as well, and Harry forced himself to stop. Down that road he would end up thinking about every single person they had lost, and he couldn't afford to fall into that spiral. But an idea had popped into his mind, and he decided to keep it for the future. His brain had reminded him that it wasn't just the Weasleys who were grieving. Andromeda Tonks had lost a lot of people too. Her daughter, her husband, and her son-in-law. And she had become Teddy Lupin's last remaining relative. Harry pushed aside the guilt at the thought of his godson and tried to bring himself back to the present.

The Weasleys had finished writing and were looking at him expectantly, the sheets of paper in their hands.

"Harry?" Ron asked him. "What do we do now?"

Nervousness, fear, and excitement filled the Weasley's faces, and Harry knew there was no turning back now. He got up from the couch and pulled the Stone out of his pocket. The Relic seemed an insignificant thing between his fingers, but Harry knew the power it contained and how dangerous it was.

"Now." He said. "If you're ready... We can begin."

He looked at the Weasleys one by one and saw that they were. Or at least as much as they would ever be. He shared one last look with Ginny and Ron, then closed his eyes. He thought of Fred and twirled that little black stone between his fingers three times. The gasps of surprise and the cries that echoed through the room told him, without opening his eyes, what had happened.

His eyelids trembled before they opened and when they finally did, Harry could see a red-haired figure in the middle of the living room.

Fred Weasley stood in front of him, with a smile on his face.

Fred's smile was not the frozen, stiff one that had remained on his corpse when he had died, but a sincere, natural one that caught Harry's heart and squeezed it so hard that the boy thought for an instant that he was going to collapse in the middle of the Burrow's living room. Luckily, he didn't, and he was able to look more closely at his friend. Fred looked the same: his red hair, the mischievous gleam in his eyes and the hands in his trousers' pockets were the same as always. But upon closer inspection, he noticed subtle differences from the Fred of his memories. His hair was lusher and shinier than it used to be, his teeth whiter, and his face was clean, devoid of cuts or stains. But if there was one thing that indicated that this Fred was not the same as he had always been, it was his skin. If one focused, one could almost see through it, as if the boy was made of transparent material. Or light, Harry thought somewhere in the back of his mind.

It had been two seconds since Fred had appeared in the middle of the room and no one had moved yet. Disbelief and excitement had paralyzed the Weasleys. Harry took a tentative step forward and that seemed to wake the others, because they all stood up suddenly, dropping the notebooks they were holding and rushing at Fred.

"Fred!"

"Oh, Fred..."

"Sweetheart!"

"My boy!"

The words piled up and tangled with one another as the Weasleys engulfed Fred in their arms, hiding him from Harry's sight. The boy hesitated, unsure whether to join them or not. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione also stood some distance away. The girl felt his gaze and smiled at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before Harry could do anything, two arms came out of the human pile and dragged him and Hermione towards the others.

Inside, it was even more confusing: he could hear crying and whispered words, feel breathing against his back and someone sobbing next to his chest. In the midst of it all, Harry was transported back to a day when he was seven years old at the Dursleys' house. His aunt had been watching a documentary on television about something called 'Castells'. Apparently, it was a tradition in some parts of Spain, where people, with the force of their arms and the group's strength created human towers. At the bottom were the largest number of people, forming a pile that helped support the people who would eventually climb up and create the castles. Harry had found it impressive and beautiful. A demonstration of strength, bravery, and brotherhood. However, his aunt had snorted, called them idiots, and changed the channel. But Harry had been moved by the image and it had stayed in his mind for a long time. When the human tower had finally fallen, the bodies of those below had cushioned the blow, supporting, and protecting the others, and Harry had wondered if at some point in his life he would ever feel that bond, that connection with other people. If he would trust someone enough to know that they would bear his weight and, should he fall, be there to protect him with their own body. He had never thought that could be true, and over time he had discarded the idea. Then he'd gone to Hogwarts, met Ron and Hermione, the other Weasleys. And, without planning it, without looking for it, he had found those people he had longed for so long. His tower wasn't complete, of course. There were members missing: Sirius, Remus, Tonks, even Dumbledore. But, feeling the Weasleys' arms around him, hearing their heartbeats, Harry realized he could survive it.

Minutes passed and they stood there, holding each other, unwilling to let go. Fearing that, if they did, Fred would leave. This time for good. But, little by little, their lungs began to beg for oxygen and their faces needed to be wiped of tears. And so, they pulled away somewhat, though they continued to hold each other.

Fred was in the center, with everyone's eyes fixed on him. Molly was on his right, holding his hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She watched him avidly, trying to remember every detail, before the boy disappeared again, her gaze roaming over every inch of that face she had helped create.

"My sweet boy." She said, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have protected you. I should have done so much more, I-"

Fred shook his head and gave her hand a squeeze, smiling sadly at her. He exuded a surprising wisdom for his young age.

"Mum. Don't say that. It wasn't your fault." He insisted, looking into her eyes. "There's nothing you could have done."

"But..."

"It was a war. In wars people die. That's how it is... And if you'd been there with me maybe you would have died too. No." He shook his head, very serious. "What had to happen, happened. And as much as it makes me angry to know that I'm going to miss out on a lot of things I wanted to experience... There's nothing I can do about it. What has happened can't be changed. And feeling guilty or beating yourself up about it isn't going to get you anywhere. It's only going to hurt you more."

Harry looked away from Fred for the first time since the boy had appeared. He too felt guilty and responsible for his death. Despite the boy's words, he couldn't escape his own thoughts that reminded him over and over again that, had he not gone to Hogwarts, the Battle wouldn't have happened, and Fred would still be alive.

"And that goes for everyone else, too." The boy continued. "I know you all perfectly well and I know that each one of you is taking responsibility for my death. As if you were the ones who cast the curse." Fred rolled his eyes. "No way, do you hear me? Percy, you were standing right next to me. And I bet you've wondered a thousand times why me and not you, haven't you?"

Percy avoided looking him in the eye, but tears began to fall down his cheeks, answering the question.

"I knew it." Fred said. "And do you think we would have all been happy and content if that had been the case? If you had died instead of me? No. Of course not. We would have been devastated. Just like you are now. It wouldn't have made any difference at all. Because in wars. Or in life, for that matter... People die. You lose loved ones without warning. And there's nothing you can do about it. Wanting to change the choices you made or thinking you could have done something different only leads to madness. The only real option we all have in this life is to decide what we want to do with it every day. And I am happy with my choices. Even if it ended like this. I wouldn't change them." He assured earnestly. "Because even though I knew what I was risking when I decided to come to Hogwarts to fight, I also knew it was worth it."

There was a silence in the room, as everyone pondered the boy's words. They couldn't believe them or take them in at the moment, but, in time, they would remember, and it would help them on their way to getting better.

After a few seconds, Harry could hear a rhythmic noise coming from his left. Turning around, he saw George clapping slowly and with a small smile on his lips. His face was streaked with dried tears, but the humor on his features was real, and it puzzled Harry for a few moments. It had been weeks, since the Battle in fact, since he had seen such emotion on George's face.

"Well, well, Fred, who knew death would make you so wise? For once you're smarter than me... How does it feel?"

His twin brother let out a laugh, drowning out the reproach Molly had begun to formulate.

"Actually, I could ask you the same question, how does it feel to know that you're now the better-looking twin? Surely, you're glad you don't have to compete against this anymore, eh?" He pointed up and down at himself with his hand, as Mrs. Weasley alternated indignant looks between the two of them.

"But... How dare you! Do you two think it's normal to joke about...?!"

But she was silenced as he saw George move even closer to Fred and then embrace him with such force that for a moment, they looked like one person. As if their bodies had merged together. They had both started laughing and crying at the same time. Tears streamed down their cheeks towards the floor and laughter echoed through the room. But there was a strange peace on their faces, and no one wanted to say anything or intervene. This moment belonged to them alone.

The anger in Mrs. Weasley face turned into silent tears in a second, and she stared at them with her heart in her throat. Arthur reached for his wife's hand and squeezed. He was crying too, feeling that this moment was the last of the old normality, and that from then on, he would have to learn to live without a piece of his family. But for a few precious seconds, everything was in place. All the Weasleys in the same room, together, while the twins laughed about their latest joke.

Inevitably, the minutes passed, and the moment went with them. The two brothers separated and looked at each other with emotion in their eyes.

"I'm going to miss you." George told him, the humor fading from his face.

Fred nodded.

"I'm going to miss you too. But remember what I said. All of you." He turned to look at the others. "What happened is not your fault. I want you to remember it. Always."

The entire family nodded, and though there was still a long way to go, it seemed they were beginning to understand those words.

"And that goes for you too, eh, Harry?"

The boy looked up and met Fred's brown eyes.

"Yeah... I know. I do, really."

"I know you do. But it's another thing to accept it. It'll take time, but I'm sure you will." He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. His skin was colder than usual. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this, by the way. It's a gift not many people get."

Harry swallowed, moved, and relieved to see that he'd made the right decision.

"I wish I could give you a lot more time with them. I'm sorry, Fred..."

He gave him a quick sad smile and then wrapped him in a tight hug.

"It's a lot more than we'd have if it wasn't for you. Thank you." He repeated. "By the way, you were very brave to decide to come back. To not take that train yet." He whispered those words in his ear, making Harry's heart skip a beat. Only Dumbledore had been there. "I know the road ahead won't be easy, and there will be times when you might regret your decision. But I promise you it will be worth it to stay here."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, though he doubted the words would come out, so he just nodded against Fred's shoulder.

"They need you. And you need them." Continued the boy quietly. "Take care of each other, okay?"

"I promise." Harry swore solemnly.

Fred nodded and, after giving him one last smile, took a step back.

"Good. Now... From what I understand you had a lot of things to tell me, didn't you?" He pointed his finger at the floor, where all the notebooks were lying on top of each other. "I suppose we should get on with it if you don't want to be here for the next hundred years." He said it with humor, but it was clear that the idea would have pleased everyone present.

To avoid giving in to that temptation, Ron decided to go first. He picked up his notebook, as they all sat down on the sofas, and then began to speak. He talked about his regrets, the things he felt sorry for, the good memories and the bad ones too, how much it hurt him to have to say goodbye, how scared he was at the thought of the future without him. He told Fred that he forgave him for every fight and joke taken too far, and that he hoped he could forgive him for his mistakes too. He assured him that together they would survive his loss. And finally, sniffling and with tears streaming down his cheeks, he hugged him, telling him how much he loved him and how much he would be missed. When he finished talking, there was not a dry eye in the room. Everyone was crying, thinking about what they would say to Fred when it was their turn, to avoid focusing on what would come after that.

Harry wiped his tears with the back of his hand and watched as Ginny picked up her own notebook and began to speak. The boy reached a hand into his pocket, picking up the Stone again. He was aware that they had gone over the half hour mark, but watching Ginny hug her brother and tell him in sobs everything she had been thinking for weeks, Harry found himself unable to intervene. The other Weasleys deserved and needed their time to say goodbye too, it would have been unfair to forbid them to do so. And that was why Harry waited patiently until each member of the family, notebook in hand, had finished talking to Fred.

Many things came out along the way: past fights, good times and bad, guilt over what had happened during the Battle, sadness over what had been lost, anger at such injustice, anguish over the future, fear at the thought of being without Fred for the rest of their lives. But, above all, love. Lots of love. So much that, even mixed with the pain, anger, and desolation, it filled every inch of the room, comforting Harry's heart with its bittersweet presence. The boy looked over and what he saw stunned him. Fred was hugging his parents while Mr. Weasley stroked his hair and Molly clasped his cheek. That image stirred something in Harry, a deep sadness, yes, but also a comforting one. He realized that for generations, for as long as the world had existed and humans had lived in it, people had lost loved ones. Fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends, partners... All had buried people important to them. And they had survived it. This horrible pain was not his alone. Millions of people shared it with him. They knew what it felt like to be in his situation. Or would one day. And as sad or catastrophic as it might seem, there was beauty in it. It was comforting to know that he was not alone. That, at that moment, thousands of people across the planet were mourning the loss of someone and feeling their absence. And it would be like that for millennia to come. That certainty moved and consoled him.

With those thoughts, he looked at Fred once more and took the Stone between his fingers. The boy noticed his gaze, as he raised his eyes to meet his, and nodded slightly, indicating that he was ready.

"Dad, Mum...I think it's time."

"W-what?" Molly looked at Fred and then at Harry and understood. "No. No! I'm not ready. Not yet. Stay a little longer. Fred, please." Her voice broke and she looked around, searching for support among her children. She needed to see that someone, anyone, felt just as lost as she did. Just as scared. She would never be ready for what was about to happen.

The other Weasleys looked at her with fear and sadness on their faces, mirroring her own feelings. None of them wanted to say goodbye. But they remembered well Harry's warnings about the Stone.

"Mum." Fred took her hand in his. "Listen to me. You're going to be okay. I know it's hard to believe right now. But you are going to be. Yes. Look at me. Yes." He repeated as he saw her shake her head. "Listen to me, everybody. I know this sucks. I know it's unfair and none of us want it. But it happened. And nothing can change it. And now you have a whole life to live. And I don't want you to waste it." He said very seriously, looking them all in the eye. "I'm not going to lie to you. It's not going to be easy. You're going to go through some very bad weeks, months or even years. And it's not going to be linear. There will be good days and bad days. It's going to take a hell of a lot to get you back on your feet. I know that. And I'm sorry. I wish you didn't have to go through this. But I promise you..." Fred's voice broke, but he kept talking; it was very important what he had to say. "I promise you that you're going to get better, and you will be okay. You will have a good life. You will be happy."

"But... But how can we be okay without you?" Asked Ginny in a shaky voice. "How can we be happy if you're not here?"

Fred smiled sadly at her.

"That, I can't answer, I'm afraid. The answer will be different for everyone. You'll have to find your purpose. What moves you forward. I can only tell you to support and take care of each other. That the people we love make life worth living. Even if every now and then it all gets shaky when we lose one of them."

Ginny nodded and tried to keep her composure bravely. But she wasn't able to, and tears welled up in her eyes, as sobs ran through her. She let herself fall against Fred, hugging him once more, closing her eyes so she could remember every little detail of that moment in the future. Her brother held her tightly and whispered soothing words in her ear. After a few seconds, Ginny took a deep breath and stepped back.

"You're going to be fine." Fred said again, looking at them one by one. "And, whenever you need it, whenever you want it, I'll be there with you. I promise you that. You will take me with you wherever you go and, when you do something that makes you happy, I will be there to share that happiness."

After those words, Harry, who had been trying not to cry, could feel the moisture leaving his eyes. He had wanted to be strong for the Weasleys. He knew he had to keep a clear head to resist the temptation of the Stone, but he was finding it very difficult. He looked around at the others and saw that they were all crying as well, and had gone over to Fred to hug him one more time, one last time.

"Harry." The boy called to him. "Come here too."

His feet felt like they were made of cement, weighing him down and moving clumsily, as Harry trudged the few steps that separated him from Fred and the other Weasleys. When he finally reached them, arms engulfed him again and Harry knew that, when he emerged from that embrace, Fred Weasley would no longer be in the room.

"I'm sorry." He said, unable to contain himself, blinking through tears.

"Don't be sorry. As I said before, you've given us a gift. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart." He could hear the smile in Fred's voice, somewhere over his shoulder. He could hear the tremor in it, too. "And thank you, Mum and Dad. Thank you, Charlie, Bill, Percy." Fred listed their names, one by one and clearly. "...George, Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione. For giving me the best family anyone could ever wish for."

"Fred..." George murmured. "Thanks to you."

Harry could tell Fred was nodding.

"Remember what we talked about, okay? And look after each other. Love each other. That's the most important thing."

"We will. I promise." Ron said softly, as Harry took the Stone between his fingers and began to turn it.

"I love you so much..." Fred's voice sounded distant.

"And we love you." Mrs. Weasley whispered, though this time there was no response to her words.

Harry dropped the Stone back into his pocket and realized that, despite still being inside that embrace, there was more space. One person was missing from it. He bowed his head, exhausted and heartbroken.

Realizing what had happened, the others moved a few inches apart, and then reality hit them.

Bill and Charlie both turned away from the others at the same time. The former left the room without a word, while the latter sat down on a sofa, burying his head in his hands. Percy also separated from the others and then leaned his back against the wall, slowly lowering himself to sit on the floor. For his part, Ron had moved closer to Hermione, seeking her support, and she had wrapped an arm around him, offering a handkerchief with the other one. George had hardly moved, staring at the spot where Fred had been moments before, tears streaming down his cheeks.

But it was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that Harry was most worried about. They were hugging each other so tightly that he couldn't see their faces. Suddenly, they broke apart and Molly turned in his direction, her face broken and distorted. Harry took an instinctive step backwards, watching as the woman came towards him in a couple of strides. For an instant he feared that she was going to slap him, that she was going to shout at him, that she was going to try to force him to call Fred again. But Mrs. Weasley bridged the distance between them and wrapped him in a hug that took his breath away. For a moment he was fourteen again and it was his fourth year at Hogwarts, the day Voldemort had returned, and Cedric had been killed. Molly had hugged him like that, then. Like a mother. She had comforted him. And after blinking in surprise, Harry realized that this hug was similar, but also different. Because Mrs. Weasley wanted to comfort him and at the same time needed to be comforted by him. Harry returned the gesture, trying to show her how much she meant to him.

"Thank you, Harry. Thank you." The woman murmured between shaky breaths. "It was a gift. As F-Fred said. It was a gift..."

The weight that had been piled up on the boy's shoulders, his guilt, his fear at having traumatized them further; it melted away, and Harry cried tears of relief. They kept hugging each other and stayed like that for a long time, until someone touched the boy's shoulder. Harry turned and saw that it was Mr. Weasley.

"Here." He said, helping to separate them and sit Molly on the nearest sofa. He then placed another cup of tea in Harry's hand and leaned over to do the same for Mrs. Weasley. "Bill's made them, dear. Drink up, it'll help."

Harry did as Molly was doing and took a sip. As he did so, he realized it wasn't normal tea.

"It's a calming herbal tea." Arthur explained. "I think we all needed one. We also have potions in the kitchen cupboard if anyone needs something stronger." He added in a louder voice. Harry thanked him with a nod, but just drank from his cup.

He then glanced around and saw that all the Weasleys had a drink like his in their hands. He shared a glance with Ginny and Ron. They both smiled sadly at him, but that comforted him. They seemed a little more themselves than they had a few minutes ago.

"Harry..." Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "I wanted to thank you too for what you've done. It hasn't been easy. No doubt. But I'm sure it's helped us all. Even if it hurts now... I think it's given us a little more peace of mind, in a sense. It'll help us heal the wound."

The boy nodded, grateful for those words as well, as Arthur returned to Molly and sat down beside her. A few minutes passed in silence, as they all drank their infusions and recovered a little from their emotions. Harry turned his wrist to check the time, curious. He wasn't surprised to see that it was well into the early hours of the morning; it had been a long day.

"I think there's enough room for two people."

Harry looked up to see Bill and Charlie waving their wands and staring at what appeared to be a bed. It had appeared in the middle of the room, taking the place of one of the sofas.

"Charlie?" Arthur asked his son.

"We thought it would be a good idea to transfigure the sofas into double beds for everyone. At least for tonight. I don't think anyone feels like sleeping alone, do we?"

Arthur looked at his sons with affection evident on his features.

"Good thinking, boys. I think it's an excellent idea."

The next fifteen minutes were spent transfiguring the beds they would be sleeping in that night. And when they were ready, Harry realized just how tired he was and how much he wanted to just lay down on them. He had to muster all his strength to get into his pajamas and not fall asleep standing up while he brushed his teeth in the bathroom next to the living room.

When he returned, he saw that all the Weasleys and Hermione were already in their pajamas, ready for bed. They had closed the curtains and dimmed the lights, but Harry was still able to see around him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lying down in a double bed a little further away from the others, while Percy and George, who had his eyes closed, apparently asleep, were sharing the one closest to them. Next came the bed of Bill and Charlie, and after that, the one of Ginny and Hermione. The girls' bed was right next to Harry and Ron's and, as he passed by them, Ginny looked at him affectionately, causing Harry's exhausted heart to flutter, showing signs of life.

"Good night, kids." Mr. Weasley said, placing his head on his pillow. "Tomorrow will be another day, so try to get some rest. I love you all very very much."

His sons returned those words and then the lights dimmed even more, filling the room with a darkness broken only by the moonlight streaming through the closed curtains.

Harry closed his eyes, exhausted. Ron was already snoring beside him, and he was about to fall asleep when he felt something against his arm. In the darkness, he could see that it was Ginny's hand reaching for his. Despite everything that had happened, Harry couldn't help a sleepy smile. He laced his fingers with hers and, before he fell into a deep sleep, he thought that maybe Fred was right. That maybe they would indeed get to be well and happy. Surrounded by his loved ones and feeling Ginny's warmth against his hand, it was easier to believe.

Severus Snape walked down the stairs carefully, placing one foot in front of the other and gripping the rail with his hand. It took him half an hour to cover a distance that, before Nagini's attack, he would have done in barely five minutes, but when finally, sweaty and aching all over, he reached the door to his quarters, satisfaction filled his chest. It had been almost a week since he had awakened, but his near-death experience had left him with after-effects that he wasn't sure were going to disappear completely. He seemed to be getting better every day, regaining strength and autonomy, but it frightened him to think that he might never be his old self again.

He looked around before opening the door, to make sure he was alone. He felt no imminent threat but after so many years in tension it was hard to relax. He was in the dungeons, in front of the rooms that had been his home for so many years. That area of the castle had been deserted since the Slytherin had left the school before and after the battle, and at the moment it still was.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the doorknob, fearing what he might find when he opened it, but to his surprise his quarters looked just as they had been when he had left them. He raised an eyebrow, wondering how that was possible since Slughorn had lived there for two years. When he reached the kitchen, he got his answer. A letter rested on the table and, glancing at it, he immediately recognized Minerva's handwriting.

Dear Severus,

As we agreed, I have had your belongings sent to your new quarters. Everything should be there, but if you find anything in particular missing, don't hesitate to let me know.

P.S. Horace took all his stuff with him before he left and I have transfigured the furniture back so it looks exactly as it did two years ago when you left.

Welcome back,

Minerva McGonagall

Severus sighed, setting the letter back down on the table. Minerva was being too attentive and considerate. It irritated him. The professor still felt guilty about how she had treated Snape during that last year, and she also seemed to have taken responsibility for his near-death experience. She was convinced that, if she hadn't hexed him out of the castle, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to try to kill him. Snape rolled his eyes at the memory. As if she could have prevented it. The Dark Lord would have found him anyway if he so wished.

Those thoughts brought back images in his mind that he was trying to forget. The sharp fangs of the snake, the stabbing pain in his throat, the venom burning in his veins...

Snape shook his head and forced himself to think of something else. He pushed those memories to the back of his mind and looked around for a distraction. As he did so, he noticed for the first time a box leaning against the sofa. He approached it with curiosity. Inside were the few personal items he had taken with him to Dumbledore's office. A notebook in which he wrote the potions or new spells he was working on, a dark green - almost black - cloak that had been a gift from Albus, some cufflinks that Minerva had given him in his first year teaching at Hogwarts... Severus Snape was not a sentimental person and, if someone had asked him, he would have said that those objects were simply useful and expensive enough to want to keep them under his watch. That was why he had taken them from his quarters in the dungeons, to his rooms in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower and, finally, to the Headmaster's office. And, if it was the case that they were gifts that showed respect or affection that someone had felt for him at some point... That was just a coincidence.

He continued searching through the box until he found what he was looking for. A photo album enchanted to look empty. Snape waved his wand, muttering the counter spell, and, instantly, the blank pages filled with pictures, some moving, some static. Snape stared at them, swallowing hard. His mother hugging him, looking at the camera with still some sparkle in her eyes, before it disappeared; Lily and him as children, smiling and making faces in his direction; Snape, head held high and pride in his features as Lucius slipped an arm around his shoulders; Minerva and Albus forcing him to take a picture at the staff Christmas lunch, his usual expression of irritation softened against his will... He took a deep breath, pushing down the feelings that rose from his chest to his throat. Then he sat down on the couch, trying to regain his breath and composure. With trembling hands, from fatigue or emotions, he couldn't tell, he reached the last page of the album. Half of the letter and the photo he had taken from Grimmauld Place were there, and Severus felt a pang of guilt at the sight of them. He had needed them during that last horrible year, but now it seemed selfish to have robbed Potter of a memory of his mother. Pushing those thoughts aside for later, he set the photo album on the coffee table, and lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

He was exhausted and, as he ran a hand over his face, his white hand contrasted against the black of his sleeve. Before leaving the infirmary, Snape had changed back into his usual robes, as there was no way he was going to walk the halls of Hogwarts in his hospital pajamas, no matter how empty the school was. Seeing himself in those familiar robes had made him feel a little more like himself, but the walk from the infirmary had brought him back to reality and that strange feeling of not recognizing or controlling his own body. Still, he was relieved to be back in his space. He had needed to get away from the gurney, from that smell of sickness and potions that filled the air, especially without Potter's irritating presence to distract him. Of course, Poppy hadn't agreed. 'You still need to rest and recover,' she had said. But Severus could take it no more and, after talking to Minerva, they had agreed that, for the time being, returning to their rooms in the dungeons was the best solution.

Slughorn had left the school after the battle, and no one knew if he would return the following year. That might free up Snape's old position, but the man was not sure at all what he wanted to do with his life. Teaching those brats for over fifteen years had not been his favorite thing to do, but it was all he had ever known. That, and spying for Dumbledore and protecting Potter. Now that the threat of the Dark Lord was gone, Snape would have to think long and hard about his plans for the future. At the moment, no one knew what would happen next school year and no one seemed worried about it. So, Severus would still have a few months to decide what to do. That was if the Ministry didn't arrest him first and send him to Azkaban, of course.

Minerva had informed him how the Death Eater trials were to begin shortly, after all the victims had been buried. It had been decided that way out of respect for the families. Severus didn't know if he was going to be arrested as well once word got out that he had survived. Or if he would have to stand trial and testify about his true alliances. He almost preferred to be sent straight to Azkaban, rather than have to show his memories to that bunch of corrupt wizards of the Wizengamot. Perhaps Potter could testify on his behalf. That would probably be enough. Severus shuddered at the thought. The spawn of James Potter, saving him from a life sentence in Azkaban. The thought held less malice than usual, as his talks with the boy had made him see him in a different light, but still, now that the boy wasn't around to see those green eyes full of ghosts, Snape was back to his old ways.

He leaned against the back of the couch, running a hand over his tired eyes. Thinking of Potter troubled him these days. So many things troubled him these days. On the one hand, he wanted to ignore the boy and go live in a cabin in the middle of the mountains where no one would ever find him or bother him. Maybe he could finally sit somewhere and never move again. The forest would grow around him, and the moss would cover him, and Severus wouldn't have to think and deal with all those traumas, feelings, and memories that he carried with him. But, on the other hand, he knew that even so, a part of him would always be worried for the boy, wondering if he was well, if he was in danger. It had become second nature to Severus. Something as natural as breathing.

'I wish I were dead,' he had said the night Lily was killed. But Dumbledore had redirected those feelings to one purpose: protecting the boy. That had kept him alive for seventeen long years, and when he had learned that Potter had to die, Snape had felt that that purpose was gone and, consequently, a part of him had died as well. He had dragged himself through the next year like an automaton, spying, lying and carrying out every part of Albus' plan, fearing that every second that passed, the boy was closer to the slaughterhouse. And when, finally, Voldemort had decided to finish him off and Potter was there to hear the last part of the plan, to know what he should do and to understand him, Snape, the man had felt at peace. Ready to go. If the boy was going to die, he no longer had anything to anchor him to this world.

But Potter had survived and, against all odds, so had Snape. Then the boy had decided that he wanted to build some sort of friendship with Severus and spend time with him. Snape had reluctantly agreed because he needed to make sure Potter was going to be all right. Not because he cared about the boy, of course. But because, if he knew he wasn't in any danger, mental or physical, then he wouldn't have to worry about him and perhaps he could move on with his life.

Snape sighed, exhausted, and pushed Potter from his mind with an effort. The boy had left a couple of days ago to the Burrow, for Fred Weasley's funeral, and Snape was going to enjoy the quiet. He would not let Potter invade his thoughts as well as his loneliness. He also removed everything that had to do with the funeral. He didn't want to imagine the Weasleys in that situation, or all that it entailed. He couldn't think about it, or he would lose his temper like Potter had in Hagrid's hut. He cursed himself as his mind wandered back to the boy and he forced himself to empty his head, taking deep breaths and concentrating, as he had done so many times before meeting with the Dark Lord.

By the time he was done, Snape was too exhausted to bother walking to the bed. He sat up with an effort and waved his wand, creating some protective spells around his new quarters. Then, lying back down on the couch, he leaned against the dark cushions and took a deep breath. It felt strange to be there again and a part of him wished the last two years hadn't happened. That Albus was still alive and he didn't have to face the unknown of his future or think about what he was going to do with Potter and this new relationship he had unintentionally formed with the boy. But Snape knew that wishing something deeply did not make it true. So, resigning himself to his fate, he rolled onto his side and pushed those thoughts from his mind once more. Then he closed his eyes and, after a few seconds, he fell asleep.

---

---

The day had started slowly, quietly, with the Sun shining in the sky and the Weasleys gradually waking up in the living room of the Burrow. Harry, blinking and with his hand still holding Ginny's, remembered what had happened the night before. But he thought of Fred's words, his smile, and his hug, and felt comforted. He realized that the boy's absence now hurt a little less than before. From the expressions on the faces of the others; the Weasleys felt that way too. He could see it in the way Percy said good morning to him, in the look he shared with George, and in the smile Ron gave him, still squinting half-asleep. Also in Arthur, who, opening the curtains to let light into the living room, looked more like that easy-going wizard Harry had known than the broken father of the last few weeks. He could also see it in Bill and Charlie, and in the easy conversation they shared as they transfigured the beds back into sofas And, finally, in Mrs. Weasley who, walking with a new stride in her step, went straight to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The mood had changed from the day before, of that there was no doubt. And, although the future would not be easy, at least for one morning tranquility had returned to the Burrow.

After a few minutes, Molly called them from the kitchen, saying that breakfast was ready. They all went in together, still in their pajamas and with unkempt hair. They sat at the table, enjoying the freshly made food and talking quietly. That scene reminded Harry of one of many mornings at the Burrow, when life had been simpler. Or maybe it just seemed that way, reminiscing through the glass of the past and nostalgia. Harry sipped his cup of chocolate milk, deep in thought, when a tapping against the window startled them all. On the windowsill, a brown owl carried a letter in its beak.

Mr. Weasley picked it up, opened it and began to read to himself, while Harry wondered who it could be from.

"It's from Andromeda Tonks." Arthur explained. "She gives us her condolences for Fred and apologizes for not coming yesterday. And... and invites us, for lack of a better word, to Remus and Tonks' funeral. Which will take place tomorrow at her home..."

Harry slowly lowered the cup and rested it back on the table. He knew that moment would eventually come, but he had hoped to have a little more time to take in Fred's funeral first. From the expressions of the others, so did they.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, running a hand over her face wearily.

"It's hard, guys. I know. But it has to be done."

Arthur patted her shoulder, supporting her.

"It does...and Remus and Tonks deserve it." He said, nodding sadly. "Listen, I know we're still recovering from everything we went through yesterday. So today we're going to take the day to ourselves. If you feel like lying in bed in your pajamas for hours, go for it. If you want to go for a walk, or to Hogwarts, or go broomstick flying, you can do that too. Really. Today is a day when we won't be explaining ourselves to anyone. Not even to me or your mother. We'll take care of ourselves, doing whatever we feel like doing." He looked them one by one in the eye. "Agreed?"

They all nodded, appreciating that idea and Harry began to think about what he wanted to do during that day. The letter had left them all without much of an appetite, so breakfast didn't last much longer. Once they had risen from the table, Harry walked over to the corner where Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing.

"I'd like to stay here with you guys." He began, somewhat nervously. "But I feel like I have to go to Hogwarts - at least for a couple of hours. I want to talk to Snape and explain everything that's happened. But I also want to tell him to come to the funeral. Andromeda doesn't know he's alive, so she won't have sent him a letter... But something tells me that Snape will need to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks."

Ginny said nothing, but Ron and Hermione shared a look, something they tended to do of late, communicating without words.

"Sounds good to me, Harry." Ron nodded. "Really. I think it will help Snape to go to the funeral. But I'll tell Dad to let Andromeda know first. Just so she knows. I don't think she needs a surprise like that during a day like tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, of course. You're right." Harry hadn't thought of that. "And thank you for understanding. I'll try to get back as soon as possible, because I want to spend time with you too. Even if it's just to have a game of chess or a couple of laps on the brooms."

They both smiled at those words. Then Hermione came over and hugged him, saying:

"We want to spend time with you too, Harry. Who knew I'd miss our day-to-day life in the forest."

"I wouldn't..." Ron joked, though there was seriousness in his face. "But I see what you mean. I have the feeling that it's been years since we've had a normal day."

The four of them nodded, but, before their thoughts could drift off into depressing topics, Ron added:

"Anyway, I'm going to take a shower. Cause if I hug you like Hermione just did maybe I'll kill you with my smelliness."

Humor snapped them back to reality, pushing away the images that had begun to form in their minds.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Ginny told him, grimacing exaggeratedly.

"Hey!" Ron played offended, though he grinned and started walking towards the bathroom.

Once there was a little distance between them, Ginny breathed in dramatically.

"Whew, thank goodness. I can get oxygen again!" That caused Hermione and Harry to let out a laugh, while Ron, after opening the bathroom door with a smile in his face, made a rude gesture with his hand and closed it behind him.

"I'm going to ask Mrs. Weasley for a clean towel." Hermione said, looking at the spot where Ron stood seconds before. "Your brother has forgotten to do that, and I can already imagine him freezing and shivering."

"He doesn't know how lucky he is to have you." Ginny smiled at her.

Hermione returned the gesture.

"I know..." She said. "Though I'm lucky to have him too." After those words, she walked away in search of Molly, leaving them alone.

"Are you angry that I'm leaving for Hogwarts?" The question escaped Harry's lips without him wanting to. "I know we have a conversation waiting for us, but..." The words died in his mouth, without Harry knowing how to continue. Between the War, the funeral and everything else, they hadn't had time for the two of them for almost a year now, and although there were more important things going on at the moment, they would have to talk about their relationship at some point. They couldn't keep avoiding it after the kisses, the looks, the hugs, and the conversations they had shared. That was why he understood if Ginny was mad at him. If she was upset about the fact that Harry needed to go to Hogwarts to talk to Snape rather than stay and spend time with her.

"I'm not angry." Ginny said, seeing that the boy wasn't going to continue. "Really. I understand if you want to go and tell him everything that's happened. I really do. Your relationship has changed and now Snape is someone important to you."

Harry appreciated those words but realized that Ginny hadn't said anything about the second part of his sentence.

"I also understand that you need some air, after these last two days. That you need a few hours to yourself." The girl continued. "I mean, you've spent the last year living in the middle of the woods with Ron and Hermione. You've gotten used to doing what you wanted without having to explain yourself to anybody. And now you've been at Hogwarts for two weeks doing the same thing too. So, it seems normal to me that you'd need some space."

Harry nodded but was still nervous. Ginny still hadn't said anything about the two of them, and the more the boy thought about it, the more he wondered if they could ever have a normal relationship. The traumas, the pain, all the things they'd been through and done, weighed too much. And Harry couldn't see himself getting up every day next to her, with the same routine; cleaning the dishes, going to work, shopping, going on dates in fancy restaurants, dancing without music in the kitchen... as if nothing had happened. All those thoughts had been building up in his head for some time and Harry swallowed nervously. He knew that, if she asked him, he wouldn't be able to give her a straight answer. He couldn't promise to be an ordinary boyfriend. Not right now at least. And he knew that, if Ginny wanted a relationship and a future like that, she was going to get it, with or without Harry. And the boy couldn't ask her to wait for him. Or to give up what she wanted for him.

"Harry?"

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You're shaking."

Harry realized he was, so he concentrated on trying to calm himself down.

"Is it because of something I said?" Ginny looked him straight in the eye, wanting to understand him. "Listen to me, we don't have to have any conversations about us. Not today and not tomorrow either. I told you a couple of weeks ago, Harry. There's no rush. We can take this slow. Figure out what we want. I thought you knew that."

"Yeah... Well, but after, you know, yesterday's kisses." Harry blushed. "And after... After everything that happened at the funeral and then with Fred. And you holding my hand the whole night... I don't know, I thought maybe you wanted an answer. That you wanted me to be sure."

Ginny smiled warmly at him.

"If at any time I need to talk to you about something, I'll tell you. You don't have to worry about that. And, as for us... At the moment, I can say that I like being with you. And I think you like being with me too. But we don't have to complicate ourselves. Not with everything that's happened. I told you before and I repeat it now: we have time. And you don't have to ask my permission to go to Hogwarts or wherever you want. That would be crazy!" She shook her head, humor on her face. "I want you to do what you need to do. Whatever makes you happy. Because I'll do the same. Obviously, communicating is important, and I thank you for thinking of me, but you don't owe me anything. Okay?"

Harry stared at her for a few moments, remembering once again why he liked Ginny so much. Things were simple with her. They always had been, even during their time together in their sixth year. Ginny knew what she wanted. And more importantly, she was always going to tell him what was on her mind. She was always going to tell him the truth. After so many years of secrets about his future, of not knowing, of half-truths, it was refreshing. And it was something he needed.

"Harry?" Ginny asked when the boy didn't answer. "I mean it. I don't want you to worry about me. The truth is, it's going to be nice to be alone for a few hours. After the funeral and all those days helping mom prepare the tables, the food, organize the whole guests situation... A little calm and quiet will be fine. Obviously, I also want to spend time together, but when we both feel like it. We'll have plenty of days for that."

Harry managed to finally regain his voice.

"Thank you. Really. For understanding and for, I don't know, making things so simple. Cho Chang would never-"

He snapped his mouth shut; afraid he'd made a mistake. But Ginny shook her head.

"I never liked her too much for obvious reasons." She said, nodding in his direction. "But after Fred... I understand why she was always crying and why almost everything put her in a bad mood. It must not have been easy to lose Cedric so young."

Harry swallowed hard, feeling guilty.

"No, it mustn't... The truth is, I feel bad that I didn't know how to help her. I guess we dealt with grief in totally opposite ways. Though I don't regret that we ended whatever we had between us, obviously." He said, smiling in the direction of the girl, who returned the gesture.

"Me, neither."

"But, seriously now, Ginny. Back to the subject we were talking about... I really appreciate everything you've said. I like the way you make things so easy. Sometimes I get all confused and stressed out inside of my own mind and I need you to come in and tell my brain to stop with that nonsense." The girl smiled at him, and he took that as a good sign to continue talking. "And it's important that you know that I want to spend time with you too. And I will. Today if you want. I'll try to come as soon as possible and then we can sit together and talk for as long as we want."

Ginny smiled warmly at him.

"I look forward to it."

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Ron appeared, wrapped in a towel. Hermione must have handed it to him while they were talking, without Harry or Ginny noticing.

"Are you guys still here?" He asked them, the water falling from his hair dampening the floor. "Harry, I'd go get ready if I were you, or the day is going to pass, and you won't have gone to Hogwarts."

Ginny smiled at him.

"He's right. Go, Harry, I'll see you later."

The boy nodded and, after a quick hug, he went to ask Mrs. Weasley for a clean towel. He then hurried into the bathroom and showered quickly. After that, he brushed his teeth and got dressed. He tried to comb his hair as well, but ever since he was little that had been a losing battle, so he flattened it with one hand, hoping that would be enough to keep it under control.

Half an hour later, after saying goodbye to the Weasleys, Apparating at Hogwarts, and walking across the grounds to the castle, Harry was inside the infirmary, his hair still slightly damp. He entered at a brisk pace, his feet carrying him without having to think about it towards Snape's room. He had taken that route countless times over the past two weeks. The clean smell and the silence that reigned in the infirmary did not fill him with anxiety as they had at first, but instead they comforted him, knowing that he was safe there and that Snape was only a few feet away, lying on his gurney. After the last few days, Fred's funeral, saying goodbye to him, and, finally, Andromeda Tonks' letter that morning, Harry needed to feel that safety.

Reaching Snape's door, he knocked with his knuckles a couple of times, getting no response. Frowning, he opened it slowly, wondering if the professor was sleeping. The blinds were down, but enough light was coming in to see that no one was lying on the bed. Harry muttered a quick "Lumos," wondering where Snape might be. The light coming from his wand illuminated the room, allowing Harry to inspect his surroundings.

There was no sign of Snape and the place was spotless, as if it had not been used at all. The bed was made, the white sheets lay on the mattress without a single wrinkle and the pillows looked soft and unused. The room smelled clean and new. For an instant, Harry had a horrible thought. Had Snape been a figment of his imagination? Had the man died in the Shrieking Shack and his brain had created the Snape of the infirmary in order to deal with what had happened during the battle?

Harry's heart pounded and the boy had to sit in the nearest chair. The chair he used to read in during those long nights waiting for Snape to wake up. Harry buried his face in his hands, forcing himself to take a deep breath. 'I'm not losing my mind.' He said to himself. 'Snape is real, he survived. Hermione and Ron brought him back from the Shrieking Shack. And Ginny, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall have seen him too. 'I'm not losing my mind.' He repeated it to himself several times until he was sure of it. And, once he managed to calm down somewhat, he took another deep breath and glanced at the bed. 'But then... Why isn't Snape here? And why are the sheets so clean and new?' Another horrible thought ran through him. Had Snape died while he was at the Burrow? It couldn't be, the Professor seemed to be recovering and Madam Pomfrey had said he was out of danger now. He had woken up and had been eating and talking to Harry for several days. It couldn't be that he had passed away. Someone would have told him. But that horrible feeling wouldn't go away from his stomach. That unsteadiness. It didn't matter that Harry kept repeating those words to himself and tried to be rational. 'Maybe I've got the wrong room?' The thought came in the middle of that whirlwind of panic, causing Harry to shake his head. If that was the case, he was going to be very angry with himself.

He got up from his chair and walked out the door so he could look at the number written next to it.

"Potter?" Harry turned and saw Madam Pomfrey a few feet away in the middle of the waiting room. "What are you doing here?"

"I... uh..." Harry swallowed hard. He had just seen that the room number was correct. He hadn't made a mistake. "I was looking for Snape, Madam Pomfrey. But... He's not on his gurney and the room is all clean and-"

The woman held up a hand in a reassuring gesture, quieting him.

"Severus is okay, Harry. He and Professor McGonagall decided it would be wise for him to leave the infirmary and return to his rooms in the Dungeons." She let out a snort, making it clear what she thought about it.

"Oh." Relief took Harry's breath away. "So, he's okay?" He repeated. "Nothing happened to him?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him for a few moments, understanding.

"Of course he's okay, Harry. Have you been worried? I'm sorry, I thought someone would have told you. Severus is perfectly fine. You can go and see him if you want. I'm sure he'll like it."

Harry wasn't sure about that, but he nodded, with his heart still pounding. A few seconds passed in which he tried to regain his composure. He finally managed to do it, but there was one thing he still didn't understand.

"Madam Pomfrey, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What happened to the room? It's as if Snape had never been in it. It's so tidy and clean..."

The woman looked at him with humor in her eyes and a small smile.

"This is an infirmary, Potter." She said as if it was obvious. "The rooms are left like this for the next patient. We use potions and spells to remove any trace of the person who has been there before. Hygiene is extremely important in this job, you know."

Harry felt very stupid all of a sudden but nodded.

"Yeah, right. It makes sense... Did you say Snape is in the Dungeons?" He asked, changing the subject so as not to look even dumber.

"That's right, do you know where his rooms are?"

Harry shook his head.

"I know where his office is, but I don't think he sleeps there, does he?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head but smiled at him.

"No. Severus is on the other side. Near the Slytherin Common Room." The woman looked at him suspiciously as she saw him nod. "Though being a Gryffindor, you shouldn't know where that is..."

Harry tried to look innocent.

"Eh... It's too long a story. But yes, I do know where the Common Room is."

She let out a long sigh.

"I don't even know why I'm asking..." She ran a hand over her face wearily. "Severus' quarters are behind a black wooden door. In a corridor to the left of the Common Room."

Harry repeated those words in his mind for a few seconds, memorizing them.

"Understood. Thank you very much, Madam Pomfrey."

She nodded accepting his thanks.

"You're welcome, Potter. If you can't find them, come back here and I'll help you as soon as I have a minute."

"Thank you, but I think I can handle it.

"All right, then. Have a good day, Potter."

"You too, ma'am."

After nodding at those words, Madam Pomfrey left the room, in search of her other patients. Harry watched her for a few moments, before departing in the direction of the Dungeons.

It had been a long time since he had been in that area of the castle and the hairs on his arms stood up as he descended the stairs, feeling the cold that reigned in the place. He tried to remember where the Slytherin Common Room was, but it had been many years since he and Ron, posing as Crabbe and Goyle, had entered it, so it took him longer than expected. The entrance to the Common Room was hidden in the middle of a brick wall and, if Harry hadn't been paying attention, he would have thought that was an ordinary one. Luckily, on closer inspection, he could see the markings on the sides, indicating where the wall retreated, allowing passage. Proud of himself, Harry couldn't help but smirk. Then, remembering Madam Pomfrey's words, he turned to his left, looking for the corridor and the black wooden door the healer had indicated. When he finally found it, he stopped in front of it, admiring its dark color. He ran his fingers over the material, tracing the curves of the wood and feeling himself getting goosebumps again, though this time they were caused by the excitement he was feeling. He had never been to Snape's chambers before, and he couldn't deny that he was extremely curious about it. His office in the dungeons was the only place he had ever been to that belonged to the professor. And it didn't exactly bring back good memories. He hoped that these quarters, Snape's home after all, would be different.

Swallowing with nervousness, he realized that his hands were sweating, so he wiped them against the fabric of his pants. After taking a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked twice with his knuckles. He then exhaled, waiting for a reply.

After a few seconds that felt endless to Harry, the door opened and Snape, with ruffled hair and disheveled clothes appeared in front of him.

"Potter, what are you doing here? Has something happened?"

"No, Professor, nothing's happened. I just, uh... I just wanted to talk to you."

Snape looked at him, with some confusion on his face and his eyes narrowed, as if the light was bothering him. Harry realized that he had probably been sleeping and felt guilty for waking him up. But that feeling didn't last long as Snape gestured for him to come in and stepped aside. Once Harry had crossed the threshold, curiosity replaced any other thoughts.

They were in a small hallway with a door to his left that was closed. Ahead of him, the room opened into a wide space, with the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. Harry noticed that the color palette used was dark but not cold. It reminded him of what he had seen in the Slytherin common room. Black and green were predominant, but there were also shades of brown, gray, even blue. It looked cozy and welcoming to Harry in a way, something he would never have associated with Snape. He had imagined that the man would live in a gloomy, dark place, with pots full of potion ingredients floating inside them. A place similar to his office in the dungeons, where the hated Occlumency lessons had taken place. But now that he stopped to think about it, perhaps that, along with the billowing black cloak, the sarcasm, and the sharp comments, had just been part of Snape's character. Of the armor he had created around himself to hide and protect from others.

"Sit down, Potter."

Two dark-colored sofas separated by a low coffee table stood in front of him. One of them had been used recently as the cushions were flattened and unorganized. Harry wondered if Snape would have slept on it, perhaps too exhausted to reach the bed. He got his answer when, without looking him in the eye, the man waved his wand, tidying up the couch in an instant. Harry made no comment on that and merely sat on the other, facing Snape.

"Potter." Started the Potions Master, much more awake than he had been a few seconds before. "You said you wanted to talk to me. But how on earth did you know where to find me?" He was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, his back brushing lightly against the cushions and his hands on his legs, as if ready to move at any moment. His demeanor had changed. He no longer seemed disoriented but was watching Harry with curiosity and also a hint of suspicion.

"And shouldn't you be at the Burrow with the Weasleys?"

Snape moved the hand resting on his knee that held the wand. Only a few millimeters, but enough to point it directly at Harry. To the untrained eye it might have looked like a casual gesture but the boy, an expert at recognizing threats, saw it, and his heart began to pound. With his eyes glowing dangerously, wand pointed at him, dressed again in his black robes, Snape looked too much like the one from before. Too much like the Death Eater Harry had feared and hated. He could sense the danger in the air and was tempted to reach into his pocket to pull out his own wand as well. But then he saw the scars on Snape's neck, the dark circles under his black eyes, the way his hand slightly trembled...and he kept his wand where it was. Guilt filled him inside and he felt very stupid all of a sudden. Of course Snape was going to distrust him after showing up unannounced in front of his quarters and considering he was supposed to be with the Weasleys. They both had enough experience with the Polyjuice Potion and, even though the war was over, there were still people left who hated Snape and would want to hurt him.

Harry raised his hands slowly.

"I went to look for you in the infirmary, but your room was empty." He said. "I saw Madam Pomfrey, who told me where you were and showed me how to get here."

Something stirred in the back of the Potions Master's eyes, but he did not lower his wand.

"My patronus, what animal is it?"

"The same as my mother's." Harry said without hesitation. "A doe. I saw it for the first time this winter, when you used it to give me the Gryffindor sword."

Snape looked at him for a couple more seconds that felt infinite to Harry. Finally, he nodded and leaned over to rest the wand on top of the table.

Harry took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his hands against the fabric of his pants.

"Sorry, Professor. I understand why you thought it wasn't me. I should have warned you."

"Yes, it would have been smart."

Harry's face reddened.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time." He replied, regardless.

Snape sighed but didn't tell him there wouldn't be a next time, so Harry took it as a victory.

"Well, Potter. Tell me, what did you want to talk about? I imagine it has to be important or else you wouldn't have come all the way from the Burrow."

Harry bit his lip.

"Uh... Actually, I wanted to tell you about what has happened these past few days. Fred's funeral and... everything else."

"I see..."

Snape leaned back against the cushions, interlacing his long fingers. Harry tried to read his expression, but he wasn't able to and that made him feel very vulnerable all of a sudden. Talking with Snape in the infirmary had been one thing, but it was quite another to do it there, at his own home, sitting on his couch. The piercing gaze and the man's intimidating presence held their full power once again, something that hadn't happened with Snape lying on his gurney and full of bandages.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself not to look away. He met the man's black eyes, the ones he had hated so much once. Those that had opened again just a week ago and had begun to see him as he was.

"Well?" Snape asked, his face still not betraying his thoughts.

Harry cleared his throat, nervously.

"I wanted to tell you that the funeral went better than I expected. I mean, it was very hard and sad, but I managed to keep control over myself. Talking to the Weasleys helped me a lot and, in the end, it was even nice to be all together, supporting each other."

Snape nodded, but said nothing more and Harry looked away, trying not to show his disappointment. He hadn't expected him to tell him that he was proud of him, but, after very hard days, it would have been gratifying to receive some sort of acknowledgement from the man. However, Snape was still watching him silently, so Harry decided to keep talking, pushing down those feelings.

"Speaking of the funeral... I wanted to ask you something." He said, changing the subject. "I was surprised that the ceremony was officiated by a man from the Ministry. He was almost like a priest of Christian funerals... Uh, to Muggles, a priest is a man who-"

"I know what a priest is, Potter." Snape cut him off. Then he pointed to himself. "Half-blood, remember?"

"Oh."

Harry did, in fact, remember, though for the last year he had tried to forget it. After Snape's betrayal, after he had killed Dumbledore, it had hurt to think of the Half-Blood Prince. Knowing that that invisible friend who had been by his side during his sixth year, that brilliant student that Harry had identified with and had come to admire, was actually a Death Eater and a murderer, had been a hard pill to swallow. Harry had felt stupid for letting himself be fooled like that and had hidden that memory deep in the back of his mind. But now that he knew the truth about Snape, he could see traces of the Prince in him. The Professor's sarcastic and pointed humor was similar to the one conveyed by the comments written between the pages, and that sixteen-year-old's intelligence had only grown, making him a vital part of Voldemort's defeat. Harry was saddened to think of how the book had burned along with the Room of Requirement. But having Snape in front of him, alive and in the flesh, not just his words written over twenty years ago, meant that the Prince was not gone forever. And that, perhaps, that connection he had felt with him, wasn't gone either.

"Potter?"

"Mm?"

"Are you still here?"

"Yes, sorry. I got distracted for a second."

"Evidently."

Harry sighed. As much as he wanted to ask Snape about the Prince, that wasn't why he had come to Hogwarts. He knew the professor's patience was limited and he didn't want to exhaust it before he had told him everything that had happened over the past two days.

"Back to your question..." Snape began to explain. "It's a common thing. There are people who don't have the energy to prepare a whole funeral, but, at the same time, they want to say a proper goodbye. So, the Ministry makes these wizards available to them."

Harry nodded.

"Makes sense, although it must be a bit of a depressing job…"

"They don't just handle funerals, Potter. Wizards live longer than Muggles and our numbers are much smaller. It wouldn't be worth it for them to work on that alone. So, as long as they get paid, they'll perform whatever ceremony one needs." Snape replied in his usual sarcastic tone. "They can officiate marriages, birthday parties, or even present newborns in society. The latter is usually done by wealthy pureblood families."

Harry listened intently, admiring the amount of things he didn't know about the magical world.

"When they have a baby," Snape continued, "they invite half the magical population to a big party. To be honest, rather than honoring the kid what they want is an occasion to show off their economic and social status." He sighed. "Although that's always the case with families like that..."

Harry saw the change in Snape's expression. The man was speaking from experience. He was aware that he shouldn't press the matter, but he was overcome with curiosity and asked:

"Did the Malfoy's do something like that when Draco was born?"

Snape's gaze hardened, confirming to Harry that this was a difficult subject.

"Yes, something like that..." Was all he said, but his face reflected a shadow of melancholy. Then he blinked and transformed that emotion into boredom and indifference, leaving Harry fascinated. Snape's ability to control his emotions and decide what he wanted to show others was truly amazing. "But we're getting off topic, Potter. The funeral."

"Yes, the funeral." Harry repeated.

"There's something you haven't told me... Did you use the Stone in the end?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I did use it. But before I did anything I explained my plan to Ron and Hermione. I needed to know that they thought it was a good idea too... And, well, they agreed. So once the ceremony was over and all the guests left, we talked to the other Weasleys."

Snape leaned back against the cushions.

"How did it go?"

Harry sighed, remembering what had happened the day before.

"Well, it wasn't easy... They had a hard time believing us at first. And, once they did, they freaked out, of course. I don't blame them, because I was the first one who wanted to make it clear to them how dangerous the Stone was. And how hard it was going to be to let Fred go again." Harry swallowed hard. "But, in the end, they decided to use it and... And we did it. We were able to talk to him and say goodbye."

Harry's gaze got stuck to the small table in front of him, as memories flashed through his mind. In a shaky voice, he explained to Snape what had happened the night before, though he didn't go into details, as they were part of the Weasleys' privacy, as well as his own. Once he finished talking, he blinked slowly, trying to bring himself back to reality. His eyes focused on an object resting on the table. It looked like a photo album.

"It still seems completely impossible that such an object exists." Snape stated, snapping him out of his thoughts. "And that Albus would decide to just hand it over to you."

"I told you the truth." Replied Harry, somewhat annoyed.

"I know you wouldn't make up something that important, Potter. But I do have to wonder what he was thinking when he decided to load a child with such a burden."

"A child?" Harry felt anger throbbing inside him. "I stopped being one the day I became a part of that stupid prophecy. The day Voldemort decided he wanted me dead."

"Potter, I'm not saying that-"

"I may be young but I'm not an idiot. I know the responsibility that comes with the Stone, okay?"

"I didn't say otherwise." Snape said through gritted teeth. "And I'm sure you think you've helped the Weasleys. But, at the same time, you have to think about whether making them relive everything again won't have hurt them more."

Those words made Harry even more defensive.

"It would have been worse not to. I've already told you that it helped them a lot. It was obvious. We were able to say goodbye and talk about things left unsaid. Besides, what's this all about? When I asked you for advice two days ago, you told me you trusted my judgment. That if Dumbledore had given me the Stone it was for a reason."

Snape averted his gaze.

"I've simply had time to reflect and..."

"Reflect? No. What I think is that you've gone back to seeing me the way you did before. And because of that, it bothers you to think that Dumbledore trusted me." Harry shook his head. "Yes, I'm sure these days that I haven't been here you've used them to hate me again. It must have been very easy for you."

"You're wrong, Potter." Snape said, though Harry didn't believe him. "When you asked me about it, I thought it made sense to use the Stone because I sincerely believed it could help the Weasleys. But now, after hearing everything you've told me and thinking about it coldly, I don't think it should be your decision that allows someone to say goodbye to their loved ones or not. It seems to me that it is too much responsibility for anyone. But especially for a seventeen-year-old."

"I disagree." Harry said coolly. "After talking to the Weasleys and seeing what state they were in...it was a very simple decision. And, if it were up to me, everyone would have the opportunity to do it. To be able to say goodbye."

"Everyone?" Scoffed Snape. "Is that what you're planning on doing with your life, Potter? Wandering the Earth for the next hundred years? Using the Stone on every person who has lost someone?"

Rage filled Harry's chest. It had been a long time since Snape had taunted him like this. Before he would have ignored it, not giving it too much thought. But now it hurt, and that, the fact that Snape could affect him like that, made him even angrier. Especially at himself.

"And what does it matter to you if it's what I want to do? I hadn't thought about it, but... Maybe I do! Maybe that's my purpose. To help people deal with their losses. It would be a very noble thing to do. And, maybe... Maybe then it would make some sense to have come back!"

"Very noble?" Snape repeated with a small smile, but without humor. "It wouldn't be noble, Potter. It would be stupid. And a waste. You don't have to throw away your life carrying the burden of other people's pain. It's not your fault that people die."

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't need to. You obviously feel guilty about everything that's happened."

"How could I not?" Harry snorted. "Didn't you feel guilt when my mother died?" The tension in the air had risen considerably, but Harry didn't care. "Of course you did. You even told Dumbledore that you wished you were dead."

"Potter." Snape warned him, pronouncing each word slowly. "You're you are treading on some mighty thin ice here."

They stared at each other for a few seconds as Harry tried to decide what to do. One part of him wanted to get up and leave, get away from Snape and his comments that always hit the mark. The other wanted to throw hurtful, but true, words back at him. To tell him that maybe, if he used the Stone to talk to Lily, he could let go of much of his guilt and start moving forward. To stop being stuck in the past and not live forever bitter and unhappy. But Harry did neither of those things, he just stared at Snape, his heart pounding and anger throbbing in his temples.

Finally, Snape sighed, and the glint of danger in his eyes faded, leaving only weariness in them.

"Potter... I don't have the energy for this, okay? Let's... Let's go back for a second."

That caught Harry by surprise, causing his anger to fade without realizing it. He stared at Snape, who continued speaking.

"Right. You said that... That helping people would make some sense to having come back.

Harry sighed. He hoped Snape had missed that sentence.

"Yes..."

"Explain."

"It's not important..."

"Potter. We're not going to play this game where I ask you a question and you try not to answer. Just say it and be done with it."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. All right." Said Harry, hoping that if he told the truth, Snape would leave him alone. "The day of the Battle, when Voldemort hit me with the Avada Kedavra and killed the part of him that lived in me... I could have died too. But I decided to go back."

"What do you mean you 'decided'?"

"I mean that I had to make a choice." Harry sighed and, not knowing why, began to explain to Snape something that he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione. "It may sound crazy, but the moment the curse hit me... I woke up in a different place. In some sort of train station. Only it was a lot cleaner than any I'd ever seen in my life." He said remembering the sense of calm that he had felt there.

"You mean you saw Heaven?" Snape asked sarcastically, though there was interest in his eyes.

"No. It was more of a place in between. I know how it sounds okay?" Harry blurted out, before the man could say anything. "And I thought I had imagined it too... But Dumbledore was there. And he told me I could take a train. Go forward. Or go back. Go back to life and face Voldemort and all that was left here."

Snape continued to stare at him, though he said nothing. Harry knew that was one of the tricks the man used to keep him talking, but he still couldn't help himself and continued to explain what had happened.

"As I said before, I know what it looks like. But I didn't imagine it. Dumbledore seemed too real, and he knew things I didn't. And besides... Fred told me something yesterday. Something only someone who's been there could know. Someone who has spoken to Dumbledore. He told me that..." Harry swallowed, moved. Not caring, suddenly, that Snape saw him like that. "That I was very brave to decide to come back. And that, even though the road ahead isn't going to be easy and maybe at some point I'll regret my choice, he promised me that it will be worth it in the end."

Silence fell over the room and this time Harry did nothing to break it. He merely stared at that object on top of the table that looked like a photo album, while Snape looked at him.

"Merlin, Potter..." He sighed. "Who knew dying would turn a Weasley twin into a fountain of wisdom."

"George said something along those lines," Harry smiled without anger. He knew Snape was trying to control the conversation, bringing it back to a space in which he felt more comfortable. "But his 'wisdom' didn't stop there." Continued the boy. "He also told us that we needed each other. And to take care of each other. It may seem obvious, but since the Battle there have been times when I wanted to be left alone. Times when I never wanted to see anyone ever again."

'I don't want you to end up like me', Snape had told him a couple of days ago. And Harry had promised him he wouldn't. The words echoed in his mind and, without knowing how, joined with what Fred had said the night before, forming an idea in his head. Putting together the pieces of a puzzle he didn't even know existed.

"It's normal, Potter. I'm sure your friends have had something similar happen to them."

"There's something else." Harry added, as that puzzle took shape. "Fred told us that we would have to find our purpose. Something that would help us keep going. Even be happy."

"Mm..." Snape muttered.

"The thing is, I think I know what that might be. Not going all over the world using the Stone..." He said, reminding Snape of his own words. "But something along those lines. My purpose could be to take care of the people important to me. To help them in any way I can and make sure they're okay.

With excitement in his eyes, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black pebble.

"And if I have to use the Stone to achieve it, then I will. It's one thing only I can offer. And I have already seen that it can help a great deal."

Snape watched him, him and the Stone, connecting the dots.

"Potter."

"If you wanted to, we could use it."

"Potter." Snape repeated, this time more firmly. Ignoring the fact that, by offering to use the Relic, Harry had included him in the group of people important to him.

"With this you could talk to Dumbledore, sir - even my mother! I'm sure it would help you."

"I don't need your help or your charity, Potter." Snape's voice, as well as his expression, had hardened.

"It's not-"

"Is that why you came here to see me?" Now his voice was soft and dangerous. Like a snake about to strike. "To try to 'help' me?"

"No. I hadn't thought about it until now. But it makes sense. And after seeing how the Weasleys reacted even more so."

"No." Snape said, firmly. "It doesn't. The dead will still be dead. And talking to a poor imitation of them isn't going to change anything."

"But-"

"I'm not going to do it, Potter." Snape had raised his voice and was looking at him from the other sofa. The vein in his forehead throbbing dangerously. "And even less so with you there."

That hurt, and Harry had to take several deep breaths before he said:

"You said that you didn't want me to end up like you. You made me promise that I wouldn't. That I wouldn't become bitter and get stuck in the past. And I won't. But you don't have to either. You're still here. You are still alive. And Voldemort is gone. You have a second chance. You can change things. Find a new purpose."

For a moment, it seemed that those words had taken effect on Snape, for the tension and anger in his face visibly reduced. But, as soon as Harry uttered the last sentence, they came back, filling the Potions Master's features again.

"It's not your responsibility to worry about what I do with my life, Potter. And, quite frankly, I don't want you to. What difference does it make to you if I live like this forever? Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"

"Why do I care about what happens to you?" Harry asked incredulously. "It's you who has kept me alive for years, putting yourself in danger and risking everything to do so."

"It's not the same thing and you know it, Potter, I-"

"And now," Harry continued, cutting him off, "even after the War is over and Voldemort is gone... You've helped me deal with all of this. Something you didn't need to do."

"It's not the same." Snape said again. "You know I made a promise. I owe it to your mother and-"

"And I owe it to you!" Harry exclaimed, losing his patience. "After all you've done I can't-"

"Precisely because of all I've done." Snape replied angrily. "If you truly believe that your purpose is to help others, using the Stone or however you see fit... Then do it. But keep me out of it."

Harry watched Snape's face, his black eyes that tried to show indifference, but were filled with anger. Harry didn't know whether at him or at Snape himself. Did he really want him to leave him alone? Or did he simply not feel worthy of help? Of moving on? Of being forgiven for his mistakes?

"I don't want to keep you out of it." Harry said. "If you don't want to use the Stone, fine. That's your choice. But I'm not going to disappear. And I'm going to keep trying to help you."

Snape put his hands to his temples, covering part of his face, no doubt starting to get a headache.

"What if I don't want you to? Is it so hard to understand that I might want to have some peace and quiet after all?"

Harry frowned. He knew Snape was trying to manipulate him, but he wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"No. I can understand that perfectly well. But you don't need to shut yourself off from the world and from everybody to obtain them."

"Oh, so that's what you've been trying to achieve by coming here today? Open me up to what's happening beyond the walls of Hogwarts? Save it, Potter." Snape spat, with one of his classic sneers. "You came because you wanted to take a pat on the back. You wanted to hear a 'well done', so you'd feel that putting the Weasleys in danger has been worth it."

Harry's heart began to pound even harder, fueled by the anger those words were making him feel. But it wasn't just rage he felt deep in his chest, but also sadness and a sense of being betrayed by Snape. Harry thought that what they had built was something special; to go from being enemies to achieving a truce and, eventually, a friendship of sorts. But Snape was throwing it all away so that Harry would get mad at him and leave him alone. And all because he was a stubborn, bitter git who would rather be alone forever than risk trying to heal his wounds. Harry took a deep breath, cutting off that thought before it fully formed, and cursing Snape as he realized the man's plan was working.

"No." Harry said firmly. "That's not why I'm here and you know it. I came for two reasons. First, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know your opinion on what happened. And yes, perhaps a few words of support would have been nice... But that's not what I was looking for. And second," Harry continued, "I had to inform you of something important. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but anyway..." He closed his eyes wearily. "We received a letter from Andromeda inviting us to Remus and Tonks' funeral, which is tomorrow. And, well... I had thought that you could come with us. Now that I say it out loud and considering your earlier reaction... I don't think you'd want to... But I'm sure it could help you. And, if you're not going to do it for that reason, at least come and say goodbye to Remus and Tonks. I've seen your memories and I know you respected them and didn't want them to die."

Harry's voice trailed off and it was then that the boy realized just how exhausted he was. It wasn't easy to control his emotions, to try not to fall into Snape's manipulation, to put into words what he was thinking and, finally, to try to convince the man, all at the same time.

But Snape did not appreciate his efforts or his speech. Slowly, he pulled his hands away and Harry almost preferred he didn't. The furious expression on his face shattered any hope the boy still harbored of convincing him.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you come here, to my house, and tell me how to live my life? Try to manipulate me into doing what you think is best for me? Who do you think I am? Your little experiment? Your charity project?"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had imagined some reluctance on Snape's part, that he would become defensive. But that reaction was completely disproportionate.

"'Oh, let's save the evil Death Eater,'" Snape continued, mocking him, "maybe then my mistakes will be forgiven, and I can finally stop feeling guilty about all the people who have died'."

"What are you saying?" Harry had regained his voice. "I've got it, okay? You don't want to come. There is no need to be so cruel. I was just trying to help you and-"

"Oh, but that's precisely the problem, right, Potter?" Continued Snape viciously. "You're just trying to help, aren't you? Just like when you wanted to save Black at the Ministry… And how did that end, I wonder? Or when you came to Hogwarts to follow Dumbledore's plan and brought the deadliest Battle that this castle remembers. At the end of the day, it's clear that you're just a boy who doesn't know anything. But your actions have consequences."

"I know they have consequences!" Harry replied angrily, unable to believe that Snape was telling him all that. "That's why I'm trying to make amends for my mistakes. Or at least trying to fix the few things I still can. And that includes you! I don't understand why you're making everything so difficult. And why you're saying all these horrible things. I thought that-"

"What did you think? That we were friends? That after all of our history you could come over every Sunday for tea and we'd talk about life and tell each other our problems?" Snape snorted, showing what he thought of it. "Well, you were wrong, Potter. If I helped you when I did, it was so you wouldn't throw away nearly twenty years keeping you alive. Nothing more. And now that you have the Weasleys and all those people 'important' to you... You don't need me anymore. My purpose is over. So do what your little friends should have done when they found me in the Shrieking House: leave me alone!"

"Stop!" Harry shouted unable to take it anymore. "Stop! Why are you doing all of this?"

There was a moment of silence, in which Snape seemed to come to his senses. For an instant, Harry thought the man would apologize, that he would acknowledge that he had crossed the line and that he didn't really mean all those things. But that second passed, and Snape's face filled with malice.

"Oh, but this is touching, Potter..." He said with a sneer that chilled his blood.

"What... What do you mean?"

"It's clear to me now, Potter. What you were looking for, all these days, coming to talk to me. You didn't want to make amends, no. But something much sadder. Much more... pathetic." Snape grinned, causing the hair on Harry's arms to stand up. "That horrible void that Black left when he died, that Lupin left... Even your father... You're desperately looking for someone who can fill it..." His lips curved into a false grimace of sympathy and then Snape said something that Harry hadn't even thought of, but that he knew, as soon as he heard it, was true. "What do you think poor James Potter would say if he saw his own son wanting me to fill that void?"

The air left Harry's lungs, as those words pierced him like daggers. The patient and wise Snape from the infirmary, who had helped him so much, had just attacked him where it hurt the most, using the information that Harry himself had inadvertently given him. It felt like a nightmare. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be that Snape was back to his old self. Even worse, Harry realized, because the professor was now an important part of his life and, where before there would have been only anger, now a hole full of sadness and confusion had formed. Right on the spot where, minutes ago, Snape stood. Struggling to breathe, Harry felt himself losing him, and the man's words hurt far more than if he had hit him with the Cruciatus curse.

With tears in his eyes, making a superhuman effort not to shed them, Harry rose from the couch. Pushing the sadness aside so as not to break down and give him that satisfaction, he looked at Snape with all the hatred he felt at that moment. With his heart pounding in his temples, his hands clenched into fists and breathing heavily, he tried to hurt Snape the same way he had hurt him. In a low but clear voice, he told him:

"You're right. Ron and Hermione should have left you in the Shrieking House. They would have done us all a favor."

Then, without looking him in the eye, he crossed the distance to the door. He flung it open and left that place, slamming the door behind him. He walked, not knowing which way he was going to, trying to get away from Snape and his words. When he felt he had put enough distance, he leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. He could feel the anger and sadness rising up through his stomach and into his throat, making him nauseous. Trying not to vomit or let the tears escape, Harry took a deep breath. But the memories of what had just happened filled his head and the boy, unable to help himself, let out a cry of frustration, kicking the dark wall of the dungeons, putting all his anger into that gesture. Then, with a sore foot, he sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Moisture began to run down his cheeks and his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, as Harry lay in the middle of the dungeons, the cries draining what little energy he had left.

Minutes went by until, without knowing how much time had passed, the tears stopped. Harry then forced himself to push Snape out of his mind and think only of the Burrow, and the people he loved who were waiting for him there. Then, with effort, he got up and dragged his legs through the castle. When he finally made it to the Hogwarts grounds, the fresh air and the Sun shining in the sky helped him breathe. Harry took a few minutes under the blue, being comforted by the soft warmth of the rays on his skin. Gradually, his agitated heart calmed down somewhat, and he gained enough strength to keep going. When he reached the entrance door, which marked the boundary of the anti-Apparition spells, he took a deep breath and, with the back of his hand, removed the dried tears from his cheeks. He realized that anger had given way to grief, confusion, and disappointment. Harry didn't understand what had happened. Everything seemed to be going well. Was the idea of being helped by him really such a horrible thing? Why would Snape rather hurt him than accept that someone else cared about him? Than admit that he could have a second chance and be happy? And as for filling the gap left by his father... Harry shuddered, not wanting to think about it. He hugged himself, suddenly feeling cold. The sun no longer seemed to warm like before.

"Come on, Harry..." The boy said to himself. "The Burrow. Ron and Hermione will be there. And so will Ginny and the others. It's going to be all right."

He repeated it a couple of times until he managed to regain control over himself. Then he closed his eyes and, with a resounding snap, disappeared from Hogwarts.

He was unaware that, deep inside the castle, a former Death Eater was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions, as different parts of himself struggled to gain control. Despite this, the man's face remained impassive, and his gaze was fixed on a sofa in front of him, where minutes before a black-haired boy with green eyes was standing.

When he arrived at the Burrow, his friends were waiting for him with questions in their eyes. Harry told them that he and Snape had argued and that the man wouldn't be coming to the funeral the next day but didn't offer much more detail. He didn't want to think too much about what had happened and luckily Ginny, Ron and Hermione understood instantly. They put the subject aside without him having to tell them and spent their time talking about unimportant things, rather than hounding him for more information. Those conversations, while playing chess or flying their brooms, made him feel almost normal, and caused Harry's mood to improve considerably from when he had run out of the dungeons. It also helped him to see the change in the other Weasleys, the new energy they had gained from saying goodbye to Fred. Harry watched George riding his broom, joining them in the sky above the Burrow, playing until the Sun began to set; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley smiling fondly at each other, cuddling on the sofa as they listened to Percy talk about his plans for the future; Bill and Fleur, who had returned that morning, holding hands, strolling through the garden, their eyes full of affection for each other... And those everyday scenes filled him with optimism for the days ahead.

That night, however, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling in the dark, he couldn't help but feel sadness deep in his chest. Ron was snoring next to him, but Harry was still awake, wide-eyed and deep in thoughts he would have preferred to ignore. That afternoon at the Burrow had been quiet and pleasant, but now, in the dark, without any distractions, it was impossible to escape reality. Things had changed, and not for the better. The sweet summer days at the Weasleys' house, where the only worry had been trying to figure out what the adults were talking about and what new and exciting things would be happening that year at Hogwarts, were over. They weren't coming back. As much as he wanted them to. And Harry's heart ached for it.

The hours passed, slow and silent, as the boy laid there, accompanied by Ron's breathing and his own, the creaking of the Burrow and the singing of cicadas coming from the garden. His body was sore, and although he had missed that familiar ache of his muscles, it had been months since he had ridden a broom and his legs were reminding him of it. He also felt the exhaustion of his mind and emotions, brought on by his argument with Snape and the effort he had made all afternoon to push the man's words out of his head. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to clear his mind, forcing himself to sleep, knowing he needed rest to face Remus and Tonks' funeral the next day. Finally, his eyelids began to give way, heavy from accumulated exhaustion. And though finally, exhausted, he managed to let the longed-for sleep take hold of him, Snape's angry face was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, Ron's bed was empty, the room too warm, and the light reflecting off the floor, coming in where the curtains ended, was much brighter than it should be during the early hours of the day. Dizzy, Harry ran a hand over his face and bent down to pick up the socks he had left on the side of the bed the night before. After putting them on, he walked out of the room and down the stairs until he reached the kitchen. Molly was there and, seeing him, greeted him with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley." He murmured, sleep still in his voice. "What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven."

"Eleven o'clock?"

It had been a long time since Harry had slept this late.

"That's right." Molly smiled at him. "You must have been tired."

The boy remembered the night before and nodded absently.

"I was." He acknowledged. "Have the others woken up yet?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"They're in the garden." She told him, tilting her head towards the door. "But don't worry, I'll go get them. You sit down and eat your breakfast."

She waved her hand at the table in front of him and Harry noticed a plate he hadn't seen before. It was full of food and accompanied by a glass of orange juice.

The boy felt his belly growl.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"You're welcome, dear." She told him. "Eat as much as you want, and if you are still hungry, there's more food in the fridge."

Harry didn't think he'd be able to finish that first plate, but he nodded anyway and sat down in the chair. Watching him nibble on a piece of toast, Molly smiled in satisfaction. Then she pushed herself away from the table and walked over to the door that led to the garden. Harry watched her leave, as he picked up a piece of scrambled eggs with his fork and popped them into his mouth.

He was just finishing the last bite when the door opened again and Ron, followed by Ginny and Hermione, came through.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Asked his friend, after bidding him good morning. "You slept a lot and when I came in to get my clothes you didn't even notice."

"I'm fine." Harry reassured him. "I was just tired. Besides... I had trouble falling asleep. I had too much on my mind."

"The usual?" Ginny asked him. 'The usual' meant the War, the people who had died, the future... The minds of those who had survived were usually filled with those thoughts. She knew it well.

"Yes... The usual." Harry replied. "But, besides all that... I was also thinking about what happened with Snape. I know I haven't told you everything that happened, but... Let's just say it wasn't pretty. Someday I'll give you the details, I promise. For now, let's just leave it at that I'm very disappointed and angry with him. And I don't know if we'll ever be able to work it out. Or if I want us to..."

His friends' gazes were on him, showing that they listened to him and understood, and that made Harry feel a little better.

"But let's drop the subject. I don't want to talk about Snape." He said, getting up from the chair and carrying the now empty plate towards the sink. "Today I just want to think about Remus and Tonks. And about the... the funeral."

When he turned, he saw how the faces of the others had darkened at the reminder.

"Alright, Harry." Hermione told him, as Ron and Ginny nodded. "Did you know Kingsley will be there? Mr. Weasley told us this morning."

Harry didn't know, but it made sense. Kingsley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had known Remus for many years, and in Tonks' case, they also worked in the same department at the Ministry.

"There are probably other Aurors coming as well." Ron added. "It would be nice to talk to them to see what they're like. They could end up being your colleagues, Harry."

It took the boy a while to understand what he was referring to. He had forgotten for a moment that he wanted to be an Auror.

"Yeah..." He muttered, distracted.

"I was wondering if any of Remus' relatives were coming?" Ginny said. "I never heard him talk about his parents and I don't know if he had any siblings..."

"Probably not." Harry muttered, thinking about how few things he knew about the man. He wished he had asked him more about himself when he was still alive. "Talking to Sirius, it always seemed to me that the Marauders had been his first family. And the only one. Unfortunately, a werewolf's life is a lonely one."

But not his death, Harry thought, stubbornly. Dozens of people who loved him were going to say goodbye to him. And his wife, the mother of his child, would forever rest beside him. Remus was never going to be alone again.

"You've been to the Tonks' before, haven't you Harry?" Hermione suddenly remembered, changing the subject.

The boy's mind transported him back to that night, almost a year ago, when Hedwig and Mad-Eye had died.

"That's right. Though only for a few minutes."

"Is it true that Andromeda looks so much like Bellatrix?" Ginny asked. "I heard Mum and Dad talking about it the other day."

"The first time I saw her, I tried to cast a curse on her. Luckily I didn't have my wand nearby."

Ron's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"They do look a lot alike. But, when she talks or smiles, the difference with Bellatrix is clear."

"How do you think she'll be doing, after all she's been through?" Ginny said.

Ron sighed.

"Well, she's lost her husband, daughter and son-in-law in just one year. I don't think she will be doing very well..."

Those words woke up Harry's mind, the thought that had been lingering in it for days. He bit his lip and looked around. The kitchen was deserted, save for the four of them.

"Speaking of which..." He began, catching the attention of the others. "I wanted to talk to you guys about something. I've been thinking that... That I want to offer her to use the Stone as well."

There was a silence as the three teenagers took in his words.

"...Harry." Hermione began, just as he expected her to do. "Are you sure?"

The boy nodded, determined.

"I've seen how useful he can be. How much it has helped you guys." He said, nodding to Ron and Ginny. "And Andromeda has lost her entire family. It seems only fair that she gets to say goodbye as well."

This time it was Ron who spoke first.

"I've experienced first-hand the power of that Stone. The good it offers, but also the bad. It's quite possible that I can help her, but I'm worried about one thing, Harry. For us it was just one person. Just Fred. And it was already almost impossible to let him go. I don't even want to imagine how it will make her feel. How do you know it won't be too much temptation?"

Harry took a deep breath.

"I've thought about it. But she has Teddy, doesn't she? As much as it pains her, I know she won't abandon her grandson. And, besides, Remus and Tonks, even Ted... They wouldn't let her do it. And neither would I."

Ron bit his lip, thoughtfully.

"It could work." He said finally. "And even if it doesn't... We already know what to expect and we wouldn't be jumping in blindly like we did with Fred. We could help her come to her senses if necessary. Especially Mom and Dad who know her well. I'm sure she'd listen to them."

Those words reaffirmed Harry in his decision. He had been sure of it, but, when it came to the Stone things were never simple or straightforward and, with Snape's words still echoing in his mind, the boy had begun to doubt himself.

"Thank you, Ron." He said, before turning to his friends. "What do you girls think?"

"When you said it, I got worried." Hermione confessed. "But after listening to you and Ron... I'm calmer. I don't know Andromeda, but I trust you and the other Weasleys. If there's a problem, if she needs help, I know that between all of us we'll manage to sort it out."

Harry nodded firmly.

"We will." He promised her. Then he turned to Ginny, expectantly.

"I agree with Hermione." She said, though she was looking at Harry with something that he couldn't quite identify in her eyes. The boy was about to ask her what was going on when she blinked, and that expression vanished from her face so quickly he thought he had imagined it.

After that, the conversation eventually returned to other less important topics. As the minutes passed, Harry became aware that it was almost noon, and he was the only one still wearing his pajamas. So, he said goodbye to his friends and started walking up the stairs to the upper floor, where the shower awaited him, along with his clothes and the black robes he had worn during Fred's funeral. He was halfway up when Ginny stopped him, calling his name from downstairs.

"Wait, Harry."

The boy turned, confusion in his eyes.

"Ginny?

"I wanted to talk to you for a second."

Harry swallowed and nodded, stepping down a few steps to approach the girl, as she climbed up to each him.

"Has something happened?"

"No, nothing's happened. It's just... All this talk about the Stone... There's something I want to tell you."

He looked at her expectantly, but, for a few seconds, Ginny said nothing. Then she sighed, exhaling loudly, and avoided Harry's gaze. That worried him; the girl usually spoke her mind bluntly, and that was one of the things he liked most about her. He didn't understand what could be so serious as to make her react that way.

"Look, Harry." She said finally, her eyes glued to the stair railing. "I'm grateful for the gift you gave us, for letting us say goodbye to Fred. I always will be. More than I can put into words. And I'm sure Andromeda will be too. But..." Ginny took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eye. "I understand that you want to help others, I do. And you are. But, still, I can't stop thinking about what effect using the Stone has on you. Even if we are also participating on the decision… At the end of the day it's you who has the final say. And it's not fair to you. It's too much responsibility."

Harry had been too surprised to say anything, so Ginny continued speaking.

"I'm scared for you, Harry, do you understand? I know you and I know you're not going to want to stop at Andromeda. Not when so many people have lost loved ones and may need you. And that makes me wonder: how is this story going to end? When are you going to decide that it's enough? That it's over? You won't be able to. I know. Because there will always be one more person who has lost someone and will need to say goodbye. And then another. And then another. And that scares me. I don't want you to have to go through this thing for the rest of your life."

Ginny's words floated in the air for a few seconds as Harry took them in. He hadn't imagined having a conversation like that under those circumstances, still in his pajamas, without having even washed his face, standing on the stairs of the Burrow. From the back of his mind, the words Snape had spoken the day before rang out. Is that what you are planning on doing with your life, Potter? Wandering the Earth for the next hundred years? Using the Stone on every person who has lost someone?

Harry gulped.

"Ginny..."

"I'm not saying this to judge you. I understand. But I want you to be okay. I know it's selfish to say it, but I don't give a damn about those people." She said it angrily and part of it was directed at herself. "The important thing is that you, Harry Potter, are okay." She repeated. "Because I don't want to lose you too."

Those words squeezed Harry's heart, and the boy felt the mix of emotions inside him.

"You're not going to lose me." He promised her. "It's just... I feel guilty." He admitted. "And using the Stone helps."

"I understand." She told him, slowly approaching and taking his hand into hers. "But you've been doing things for others your whole life. Everything you've done has been to stop Voldemort. And now that he's gone... Don't you think you deserve to be free? To be happy? You don't have to waste the rest of your days."

"I don't want to waste them. But... It seems unfair to do nothing. I can help others. What kind of person am I if I don't?"

"An amazing person, Harry. You always have been. This doesn't change that." Ginny met his gaze with her own, seriousness in her features. "You can't help everyone. Not only it's not your responsibility, but it's literally impossible."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny kept talking.

"You know I'm right." She told him firmly. "You can't save every single person on the planet. The same way we couldn't save Fred or Remus or Tonks. It's hard to accept. But it's the truth."

Harry swallowed hard and averted her gaze, as the girl's words began to sink in.

"Listen to me, Harry." Ginny continued. "There's a part of you that knows what you have to do. Your instinct, your heart... Call it what you will. There are times when it's hard to hear it, when you have so much noise inside you. But it's always there. And I know you feel that with the Stone. At the time you felt that you had to use it with us. And now you feel that you should use it with Andromeda. And that's fine. But there will come a day when your instinct will tell you that you must stop. And even if it's hard, even if it's scary, even if you still feel guilty... You have to promise me that you will listen to yourself. That you'll be brave and that you will do the right thing."

Ginny's eyes shone, dark and solemn, but also full of affection. Harry watched them for a few moments, as his heart pounded.

"Okay." He said finally, giving her hand a squeeze, feeling the warmth between his fingers. "I promise."

Ginny nodded; relief evident on her face.

"Thank you, Harry."

The boy stepped closer and, though it frightened him to face that truth Ginny had shown him, or perhaps because of it, he hugged her tightly.

"Thank you."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither wanting to part from the other, until noises coming from the kitchen brought them back to reality. Mrs. Weasley had just entered and was talking loudly to Ron and Hermione, though from there Harry couldn't understand what she was saying to them. Still, that distraction was enough to make the boy take a small step back, finally separating from her arms and instantly missing her.

"I should go get ready." He told her.

"And I should go see what my mother is saying." Ginny sighed. "I swear, if she asks me again if my robes are clean..."

Harry smiled as he saw the exasperation on her face. Then he waved goodbye and finished climbing the last flight of stairs, heading for the shower.

The next few hours passed too quickly for the boy's liking. They all ate in the Burrow's kitchen, each dressed in their black robes, and then waited in a tense calm for the minutes to pass. Finally, the hour indicated by Andromeda arrived and together they walked through the garden, to the edge of the protective spells that still surrounded the Burrow. Harry checked that both the Stone and his wand were safe in the pocket of his pants, before looking up and watching Bill and Fleur disappear in front of him. A few seconds later, he followed their example. He closed his eyes and felt the ground vanish beneath him. His body spun on itself, and a feeling of unpleasant dizziness churned his stomach. Suddenly, it was all over, and the firmness of the solid ground beneath his shoes helped him steady himself. Still with his eyes closed, the smell of lavender, wet earth and grass filled his nose and the sound of muffled conversations reached his ears.

Harry opened his eyes, looking around. He stood on an orange stone terrace, with a large house looming behind it. At the edge of the terrace, wooden benches overlooked a vast field of swaying grass, stretching hundreds of yards to the horizon, all the way to small green hills that hid the house from the rest of the world. The Weasleys were beside him, a few meters away. In that moment, Molly and Arthur were hugging a woman with long dark hair, which Harry immediately recognized as Andromeda Tonks. Her face was still very much like her sister Bellatrix's, but the pronounced dark circles under her eyes and the wrinkles that had appeared on it over the past year accentuated their differences even more.

"Harry!" She called out when she saw him, and started approaching.

The boy wasn't sure how he should react. He had only seen her on one occasion, but, at the same time, he felt a kind of connection with the woman. She had suffered a lot too and felt the loss of Remus and Tonks even more than Harry himself. Not to mention the fact that she was now the only family of Teddy, his godson. Dismissing the idea of greeting her formally, with a handshake, Harry leaned over to hug her, pleased to see how she had already raised her arms even before he did. That comforted and reassured him. There would be no need for awkwardness or false pleasantries with Andromeda Tonks.

"It's good to see you again." She told him, giving his arm a squeeze. "Though I wish the circumstances were different."

Harry watched the slump of her shoulders with a lump in his throat.

"Me too." He said, sadness in his voice. "I'm so sorry. For Tonks and for Remus. And for Ted too."

She nodded, accepting his words and for a moment it seemed her eyes had filled with tears. But then she blinked and squared her shoulders, lifting them up.

"It's not your fault. And the ones who did it paid with their own lives." She said. "But let's focus on more pleasant topics." Her lips formed a small smile. Not the grimace his sister Bellatrix usually displayed, but a gesture that denoted affection and tenderness. "I want to introduce you to someone."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Teddy?" He murmured. He hadn't thought about what it would be like to meet his godson, Remus and Tonks' son, but in that moment, he began to feel nervous.

Andromeda nodded, her smile widening.

"He's inside, in his crib. Give me a second to say hello to everyone and then we'll go."

The boy stepped aside to let her pass towards the other Weasleys behind him. Harry felt his palms sweat, as he heard Ron introduce himself. He wanted to be as good a godfather as Sirius had been to him, even better. He wanted Teddy to never feel alone. To never lack anything: clothes, food, but also affection or a shoulder to cry on. He wanted to be brave, to always be there for him. But, at the same time, the consequences of the War were still present on Harry's soul, and he was still very young. He needed an adult figure too, even if he didn't want to admit it, even if he hated Snape for saying it out loud... How could he be the perfect godfather to Teddy when he wasn't even capable of taking care of himself?

"Harry? Shall we?"

Andromeda was back pointing with an outstretched hand in the direction of the house. The boy nodded, pushing down those thoughts, and followed her to the door.

Once inside, Harry recognized the room he had been in a year ago, but not the two men sitting on the couch. They wore dark, elegant attire and greeted them with a nod, but quickly returned to their conversation. One of them, Harry noticed, was missing a leg and wore a silver prosthetic that seemed to ripple, turning darker or lighter in different areas, showing the magic encased in it. They must be Aurors, the boy realized. They must have been colleagues of Tonks from the Ministry. He wasn't able to look at them too much, however, as Andromeda continued walking, leaving the living room behind, with Harry close on her heels. They entered through a corridor and walked through it until they arrived to a closed door. This one, unlike the others, was not only white, but had also been decorated with drawings of flowers, animals and toys that moved and made different sounds. Andromeda opened it and Harry took a deep breath.

Teddy was lying in his crib, his eyes closed and his hands clutching his little blanket. His hair was the same bluish color as in the picture Remus had shown him the night of the Battle and Harry felt a twinge of pain at the sight of it.

"Do you want to hold him?" Andromeda asked him quietly. "He won't wake up, he sleeps too deeply."

Harry swallowed and nodded, nervously. He had never held a baby before. She smiled and bent to pick him up carefully, lifting him out of the crib and depositing him in his arms. He was heavier than Harry had imagined, but he quickly got used to it. He watched his face, trying to find similarities to those of Remus and Tonks, but he wasn't sure. Most babies looked the same to the boy's untrained eyes.

"You're good at it." Andromeda told him, gently stroking Teddy's blue hair. "I'm glad Remus made you his godfather."

Harry moved nervously and that caused the baby to wake up. Teddy yawned and, after blinking a couple of times, opened his eyes, looking at him curiously. Then he let out a small squeak of excitement and raised a hand, reaching up, trying to grab one of the dark strands of Harry's hair.

"Oh... He seems to like you." Smiled Andromeda.

Teddy continued to babble, looking at him wide-eyed, with a big toothless grin and Harry couldn't help but return it. Maybe, being a godfather wasn't going to be as hard as he thought.

"Here, let me help you. He starts to get heavy after a while." Andromeda slipped her arms under Harry's and removed Teddy from them. Then she turned to deposit him back in the cradle, pushed his hair away from his face and stroked one cheek. Harry couldn't help the deep sadness that came over him at the sight of it. It should be Tonks standing there, kissing her baby. Her and Remus. And, although he knew that, unlike Aunt Petunia, Andromeda would care for and love Teddy with all her being, it was unfair that it had to be this way.

"You know you can come over anytime, eh, Harry?" The woman's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "We'll be here."

The boy swallowed hard.

"Yes, I know, and I appreciate it, I really do. I'd like to come more often. It's just..."

She held up a hand, reassuring him.

"You don't have to excuse yourself. I understand this isn't an easy period for anyone. I just want you to know that, if you want to come over, you can." She smiled. "Nothing more."

Harry bowed his head, suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Thank you, really... I..." He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the Stone in his pocket, as it had been during Fred's funeral. Hours before, at the Burrow, with his friends they had decided to tell her about the Relic together, but something told Harry that he should do it now. There, in Teddy's room, there was a strange peace. No unwanted guests would interrupt them, and the baby's presence would remind Andromeda of the need to continue living in the real world.

"Harry? Are you all right? You've turned a little pale."

The boy shook his head.

"I'm fine. It's just... I have to tell you something."

She watched him, with those kind eyes that were so like Tonks' that Harry wondered how he could have mistaken her for Bellatrix.

"What I'm about to say may sound crazy." The boy began. "But I swear it's true."

Andromeda continued to watch him, initial concern giving way to curiosity.

"There is an object, very ancient and powerful. It is called the Resurrection Stone." Harry looked at her, waiting for her reaction to his next words. "Only it doesn't resurrect the dead, not really. But it allows you to create a reflection of them, of the person they were. To be able to talk to them. To be able to say goodbye properly."

Those words didn't seem to affect Andromeda. The woman simply raised an eyebrow and continued to look at him.

"And you possess such an object?" She asked, though it was clear she already expected his answer.

"That's right. And, if you want, we could use it to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks. Even Ted. The only thing I must warn you is that they can't stay here forever. That, after we talk to them, we'll have to let them go."

"I see…"

"All right." Harry nodded. "Do you want us to do it now? Or after the funeral?"

"No." Andromeda Tonks said.

"Sorry?"

"No." She repeated. "I appreciate the proposal, Harry. It's very thoughtful of you to worry about me... But I'm fine as it is."

Andromeda smiled at the confusion on his face.

"I don't understand." He said. "Don't you want a chance to say goodbye? To see them one more time? To say things you should have said to them?"

She continued to smile, looking at him with those lines of weariness and pain on her face, but there was serenity in her eyes.

"We were at war, Harry. We had already said our goodbyes; we knew we could die at any moment. And as far as talking to them again... What would I tell them? That I love them? They already knew. And so did I. No, boy. It's best to the dead alone. And the living too. My husband, my daughter and my son-in-law are no longer here. And prolonging the farewell will only serve to do more harm. I prefer to do as we are going to today. To say goodbye to their bodies. Because their spirits, their souls, will always remain with me."

Harry's mouth had dropped open in surprise. He hadn't expected that answer. The boy forced himself to close it and asked:

"Are you sure?"

She nodded; tranquility evident in her eyes.

"Yes. Completely sure. But I can't decide for Teddy. If possible, offer him this when he's old enough to choose for himself. When he's mature enough. Perhaps when he comes of age." She suggested.

Harry nodded, still taking in the woman's words.

"I will." He promised.

"Good. Now, was there anything else you had to tell me?"

Harry shook his head.

"Perfect. Then I think we should meet up with the others. Surely more guests have arrived and must be wondering where we are."

Still somewhat confused by Andromeda's reaction, Harry said goodbye to Teddy and followed her back to the garden. Once there, the woman excused herself and went to greet a group of Aurors who had just arrived. Harry, now alone, searched around for his friends until he found them, away from the other groups of people that were standing up in the garden, talking to each other.

"Harry!" Ron called to him as he saw him approaching. "Where have you been?"

"Andromeda wanted to introduce me to Teddy." He explained. Then he moved a little closer so that only they could hear him. "By the way, what we talked about this morning, about the Stone? She said she doesn't want to do it."

"What?" Ron blurted out. "Are you sure?"

Hermione frowned.

"But did she understand what you were offering her?"

"Yes, Hermione." Harry replied, somewhat irritated. "I explained it to her just fine.

Ginny gave his arm a squeeze.

"I'm sure she appreciated the offer. But at the end of the day, it's her decision."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, still surprised.

"Well..." She muttered. "I guess there are people who need it, who it can help saying goodbye. And people who don't..."

Harry nodded, not quite sure what to say, then realized the rest of the Weasleys where nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, what about the others, where did they go?"

"To the back of the house." Ron replied. "It's where they put the...the coffins. They wanted to pay their respects before it got crowded."

Harry nodded, though his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"I see. Did you guys go?"

"No, we were waiting for you." Ginny told him.

The boy thanked her with a nod.

"Shall we?" Hermione asked him, showing her own nervousness.

Harry nodded.

"Yes, let's go."

The four of them started walking towards the back garden when, halfway there, they ran into Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Ah, there you are!" Molly exclaimed. "We've been looking for you. Are you going to see Remus and Tonks?"

Harry thought how strange that sounded, as if they were still alive. As if they were going to have tea with them and not to say goodbye in front of their caskets.

Ron nodded.

"Well done." Arthur said with sad smile. "It's important."

Molly ran a hand over his shoulders affectionately.

"Yes, it is. And you are doing good by going now; there were few people around. You'll have more privacy."

The teenagers nodded and, with a few last affectionate words, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took their leave, allowing them to continue on their way.

The scene that greeted them upon arrival was eerily familiar, similar to the one in the Weasley's garden during Fred's funeral. Two identical coffins, side by side, stood at one end, lying on the grass. In front of them, wooden chairs formed rows that stretched all the way to the end of the garden.

Harry took a deep breath and approached the two coffins, accompanied by his friends. His heart raced, as the faces of Remus and Tonks appeared in his mind. He brushed his fingertips over the dark wood of the first coffin, caressing it gently, as if he could feel the body lying inside. Was it Remus or Tonks? A part of him wondered. But it didn't really matter. They had died together. They would bury them together. They would rest together. And Harry would cry for them both. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell silently down his cheeks, as memories of his friends danced in his pupils. The first time he had seen Remus on the Hogwarts express, that class with the Boggart, the lessons learning how to conjure the Patronus, conversations about his parents, about Sirius, about the past... That argument at Grimmauld Place and the joy at seeing him again months later, at learning that he was Teddy's godfather... And finally, the pain at seeing his body lying in the Great Dining Hall. The tears fell harder, and Remus' face was replaced by Tonks'. He remembered the day he had met her, the immediate connection he had felt towards her. Her bubbly personality, her awkwardness, her jokes, her kindness, the number of times she had cheered him up, made him laugh. He remembered, too, all the times she had risked her life for him: in the Department of Mysteries, running away from Privet Drive, and, finally, at the Battle of Hogwarts. He could never thank her. And she could never enjoy her love for Remus, after how hard she had fought for it. She could never hold her son in her arms again. Nor hug her mother. Harry ducked his head and ran a hand over his cheeks, wiping away tears.

Suddenly, he was aware of a hand on his shoulder. Ginny was beside him. Red-eyed and sniffling through her nose, with the same pain on her face. She had a box of tissues in her left hand.

"Here." She said, offering it to him. "I knew you'd forget to bring for yourself."

That caused a small smile from the boy.

"Thank you, Ginny."

She smiled back at him, though a couple of tears fell from her eyes as she did so. Harry watched her sigh, eyes glued to the coffins as he blew his nose.

"I'm going to miss them so much." Replied the girl quietly. "So much."

"Me too." Harry said. There was nothing more to say, so they remained silent.

Ron and Hermione were still beside them, standing in front of the coffins, hugging each other.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked them.

"No." Ron smiled, through his tears. "But that's how it should be."

Hermione nodded, running a hand over her red eyes.

"That's how it should be." She repeated.

Minutes passed until, finally, the four of them felt strong enough to pull away a little. Then, seeing that more guests were coming forward to pay their respects, they decided to head back toward the house. Looking for a place to sit down and pull themselves together, they saw a long wooden table that was empty. They had just settled down at it when a conversation reached Harry's ears.

"...It's a disgrace. He should be rooting in Azkaban already."

"Keep your voice down."

"Why, am I wrong? Do you really believe that bullshit that he was working for Dumbledore all this time? Come on, please..."

Harry turned in the direction of the voices. A couple of Aurors, standing next to the house, were talking loudly. And one of them had raised his voice enough to understand what they were saying. Ron, Ginny and Hermione also seemed to have picked up on it, because they kept silent and tilted their heads towards them, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

"Kingsley said it was true. And Potter himself shouted it in the middle of the Battle."

"Come on, man..." Replied the other, with obvious skepticism. "It was also Potter who said that Snape had killed Dumbledore. So, which one is true? Did he work for him? Or did he murder him? If you ask me, I'm sure that snake confused Potter. Made him believe that lie. The only thing that surprises me is that Kingsley was fooled too."

"Keep your voice down." Repeated the other, and Harry realized it was the Auror he had seen earlier, the one with the prosthetic leg. "Do you really think Kingsley is stupid enough to let himself be tricked like that? And Potter... he may be young but he's no idiot. Remember, he defeated Voldemort."

"Yes, yes..." Replied his colleague with boredom. "And that's why we have to kneel before him and believe every story he tells us."

Harry frowned. Maybe all Aurors weren't as incredible as he had imagined them to be. As Mad-Eye and Tonks had been. As Kingsley was.

"What's your problem?" The man retorted, causing the Sun to shine on his prosthetic leg as he shook it nervously. "Have a little respect. If we're here today, alive, and not inside a wooden box, it's because of that boy."

The auror in front of him let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah... Tell that to Tonks... If he'd been a little quicker to take that bastard out, she'd still be alive today."

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He was about to get up from his chair to tell them a thing or two when a deep voice startled him.

"There you are."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in elegant black robes, stood a few feet away from them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the two Aurors stir uncomfortably.

"I've been looking for you guys." He said. "I wanted to say hello before the ceremony started."

Kingsley sat down next to them; exhaustion evident on his face.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but the Ministry is in complete chaos these days. In fact, it seems that Andromeda was waiting for me to start the ceremony."

He hadn't finished saying that sentence, when Andromeda herself appeared in front of them, gesturing for the guests to accompany her.

"Follow me, this way, please. There are chairs for everyone. Though I would appreciate it if you would leave the front rows for family and close friends."

Harry's heart, which had calmed somewhat with the last few distractions, began to pound. Kingsley sighed, rising heavily and followed the river of people heading towards the back of the house. Harry joined him and eventually sat in the chairs closest to the coffins, along with the other Weasleys, Hermione and Kingsley himself. The boy was surprised to see Teddy in Molly's arms, but he supposed Andromeda would want him to be able to say goodbye too, even if he didn't quite understand what was going on.

Once they were all seated, Harry looked around, searching for the Ministry wizard. But standing in front of Remus and Tonks was no one but Andromeda. The woman pointed her wand at her own neck, causing the volume of her voice to increase, and began to speak.

Harry couldn't help but feel admiration towards her. Towards her courage, her resolve, and her ability to keep her composure. He wasn't sure he would have been able to do that.

The funeral was relatively short. Andromeda thanked them for coming, and then began to talk about Remus and Tonks. The love on her face, as well as the pain, was evident and soon tears were spreading among the guests. Harry merely fixed his gaze on the coffins, remembering his two friends, bidding them farewell once more. Finally, Andromeda approached Mrs. Weasley, taking Teddy from her lap. The baby relaxed in the arms of his grandmother, who carried him over to the caskets, to place a little hand on first one, then the other. When she finished, Andromeda turned to look directly at him.

"Harry." She called.

For an instant the boy didn't understand what she was asking, until Ron gave him a gentle push. Automatically, Harry rose from his seat, ignoring the stares he felt on his back, and approached the woman. She smiled at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and then placed Teddy in his arms. This time, Harry felt more secure. The fear of dropping him had subsided. Holding his breath, he watched as Andromeda raised her wand and, with a precise gesture, created a rectangular hole in the floor, enough for the two coffins. Harry watched Teddy's little face, his big eyes looking at what was happening, and wondered if he was understanding what was happening. If he knew that his parents were in those wooden boxes and that in a few moments, they would be swallowed up by the earth and he would never see them again. It was a harsh image for a child of less than a year old, but Harry would have given anything to have been able to be at Lily and James' funeral. He didn't need to ask to know that Petunia hadn't gone to bury her parents, and she certainly hadn't brought her nephew with her.

He sighed, cradling Teddy in his arms, and promised him and Remus and Tonks, as the coffins began to be covered in dirt, that their son would never have to go through a childhood like the one he had.

When it was all over, Andromeda approached him. With a sad smile, she picked Teddy up once more, thanking him with her eyes for his help. Harry nodded and turned to sit back in the chair, as dozens of people stood up and approached to pay their respects. Suddenly, he felt a gaze piercing him, coming from somewhere in the garden. His instincts, which had kept him alive until now, led his eyes to the last rows of chairs, all empty except for two people sitting in them, separated from the rest of the guests. One figure he recognized instantly: dressed in dark green robes, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun, Professor McGonagall met his gaze and greeted him with a nod. The other person he would have recognized immediately as well, except that it was impossible for him to be there. Attired in his usual black robes, his straight hair partially hiding his face, Severus Snape was staring at him from across the garden, his black eyes locked on him.

Harry turned around, still sitting in his chair, his heart pounding.

"Harry?" Ginny had noticed his reaction. "What happened, are you okay?"

"What the hell is he doing here?" The boy muttered, forcing himself not to turn around again. "How dare he interrupt a moment like this? After everything he said yesterday?"

"Harry." Ginny insisted quietly, taking him by the hand. "Who's here? What happened?"

The contact woke Harry from his trance. Leaning his back against the backrest, he tried to keep his composure and avoid attracting the attention of the guests who had come over to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks.

"Snape." He muttered, so that only Ginny, and now also Ron and Hermione, who had realized something was wrong, could hear him. "He's in the back, in the last row. With McGonagall."

The three of them tried to sneakily turn around to check, but Harry knew instantly that they hadn't done a very good job and that Snape had noticed their stares. That made his face redden with embarrassment; he didn't want to show him that he cared about his presence.

"I saw him." Ron whispered, frowning. "But what's he doing here?"

Harry was asking himself the exact same question.

"I don't know." He replied, as some of the guests moved away from the mound of earth and said goodbye to Andromeda with hugs, kisses and supportive pats. "But he made it clear to me yesterday that he wasn't coming."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, thinking.

"Do you think maybe Professor McGonagall forced him to come?"

Ron snorted.

"How many times have you seen someone force Snape to do something he doesn't want to do?" The boy shook his head. "No. There's something going on here. The bat must have his own reasons for coming. I don't like it..."

Saving the Potions Master from the Shrieking Shack and, more importantly, knowing that the man had always been on their side, had helped to improve Ron's opinion of him. However, the latest argument between Harry and Snape, even if he didn't know all the details, had been enough to put him back on his blacklist.

"Maybe he wants to apologize." Ginny suggested, with more hope than conviction.

Ron snorted, quelling the spark of emotion that had appeared in Harry's chest.

"Snape? Apologizing? Please, Ginny. He may be one of us, but he's still Snape."

"Who knows?" Hermione said, seeing the expression on Harry's face, kicking Ron's foot in a way that wasn't subtle at all. "More unlikely things have happened."

The boy appreciated his friends' efforts, but they were making him feel even worse. It was ridiculous that he needed to be comforted for arguing with Snape.

"What did I miss?"

George's voice startled them. All that fuss must have gotten his attention. He was leaning towards them, from his chair to Ginny's right, and although he had dried tears on his face, there was a glint of interest and curiosity in his eyes.

Harry sighed.

"Snape and McGonagall are here, in the last row."

George turned around in a way that was anything but discreet.

"But don't be so obvious, man." Ron muttered, as if he hadn't done the same thing moments before. Hearing that, Harry felt like letting out a laugh right there in the middle of the funeral. It might seem disrespectful to some, but he knew Remus and Tonks would have appreciated a little humor on a day like that. The thought, instead of cheering him up, saddened him and the smile that had begun to form froze on his face. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that had built up during the day, coupled with the uncertainty and the nerves caused by Snape's presence, as well as anger at himself for letting it even matter to him, but Harry suddenly felt a great sadness in his chest and the need to talk to Remus and Tonks, to see them and hug them, became so intense that it hurt.

"I thought he weren't coming." George said, ignoring his brother and interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Didn't you say that yesterday?"

The boy nodded but didn't add anything else. Ron, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

"That's why we have to find out what the hell he's doing here. He must have a reason. Maybe he's come to talk to Kingsley. About his trial and all that. You heard the Aurors."

"What Aurors?" George arched an eyebrow and, for a moment, looked like his usual self, before the War, before the Battle and before he'd lost Fred.

As Ron began to quietly explain to him the conversation they had overheard earlier, Harry couldn't help but think about how easy it was becoming to get used to things that no one should. Used to death, to the absence of those who were gone, to the funerals themselves. A week ago, just the thought of going to one had terrified both him and his friends. Now, they were sitting right in front of the spot where Remus and Tonks had been buried, and they were talking to each other as they would in the Great Hall, joking and trying to decipher Snape's latest actions. It was no one's fault, he knew, but it shocked him how human beings could get used to things like that.

In the midst of his thoughts, he could still feel Snape's eyes piercing the back of his neck. Annoyed, trying not to show his discomfort, he swallowed and fixed his gaze on the dark wood of the chair. That brought a memory to the surface of his mind and, looking for a distraction, seeing that Ron had already finished explaining what had happened, he said:

"Hey, George, sorry to ask..."

The boy turned around giving him his attention and Harry continued, before he could rethink whether talking about it was a good idea.

"If you don't want to tell me I understand… But I saw you put a thing in the... In Fred's coffin. Before you buried it. It looked like a piece of wood."

A flash of pain crossed the boy's face.

"Oh, that." George looked away. "It didn't just look like it. It was a piece of wood."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron, Ginny and Hermione watching them, putting aside their curiosity about Snape's motives for the moment.

"It was a part of the broom he used to fly as a kid." George explained, melancholy present in his features. "As you know brooms are made from wood from different trees..."

Harry nodded, suddenly regretting asking him. He hadn't meant to fill the boy's eyes with such sadness.

"Well, there is a spell that can reverse the process, you see? It can create a seed from that piece of wood, and, in time, a tree will grow back from it. Mom taught me the incantation. And I took that piece of broom, conjured up the spell and... And I put it there." George gulped. "The idea is that, at the end, in addition to the earth and a headstone, there will also be a big tree. Fred's tree, I'll call it. And that way... he will be part of the Burrow. Forever."

Harry took a deep breath, moved, and at that moment, Snape's presence didn't matter at all.

"I think it's a great idea." He said sincerely. "I'm sure he would have liked it."

"Actually, I think he would have teased me about it." George replied, with a sad little smile. "Too sappy and all that... But I know deep down he'd appreciate it."

Harry nodded, with a lump in his throat. Then he realized that while he and his friends had been talking, most of the seats had emptied. A part of him thought with envy that, in that moment, many of the guests were returning to their respective homes. Where death had not struck hard. Where there wasn't an empty bed, or an extra place left at the table. Where there wasn't a tree instead of a daughter, a brother or a friend. A little voice inside reminded him that Fred, Remus and Tonks hadn't been the only ones who had passed away. Not only during the Battle of Hogwarts, but also during the rest of the War. That made him feel guilty and petty all of a sudden. Most of the people who had been there today had probably lost a loved one as well.

Deep in thought, he was vaguely aware of Andromeda rising from her seat, with Teddy in her arms. The woman turned in the direction of the few remaining guests, her figure silhouetted against the orange light of the sky, where the Sun had begun to disappear.

"Thank you all for coming." She said. "I really appreciate it. And I know that, if Remus and my Dora were here, they would too." She bowed her head, causing a cascade of light hair to hide her face for a few seconds. Then she straightened up and added, "I know many of you have responsibilities to attend to. But, if you wouldn't mind staying a few more minutes, I'd like to offer you a drink. It is tradition in my family to make a toast for those who are gone."

None of those present moved and Andromeda smiled slightly. After a day like that, it was clear that many needed that drink.

"Good." She continued. "If you would be so kind as to accompany me towards the house... I'm going to put Teddy in his crib, and I'll be right back."

Andromeda disappeared through the doorway, taking the baby with her, as the others started getting closer to the house. Only a few seconds had passed, when a noise of surprise, accompanied by a grunt of indignation, sounded in the middle of the garden.

"Has he no shame at all?"

The sound came from a group of people standing next to the house, dressed in the elegant Auror robes. Harry watched them closely and recognized the one who had been talking to the man with the prosthetic leg. He had an ordinary face, with dark hair and eyes, and was of slim build and average height. There was nothing about him that attracted attention, except his voice which, Harry had decided, was irritating like few others.

"He has some nerve, coming all this way." The man continued, looking at a point in the garden. Harry wanted to turn, but to do so would have indicated that he was listening to their conversation, so he remained where he was, surrounded by the Weasleys and Hermione. "We should arrest him and throw him into Azkaban. How dare he show up on a day like today!"

He had raised his voice as he said that last sentence and the noise caught the attention of the rest of the guests, who turned around curiously.

"What's going on?" Molly asked in a whisper.

Harry had a faint idea.

"I think he's seen Snape."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in surprise.

"Severus is here?"

Before the boy could answer, the Auror continued his speech, raising his voice even higher. He was scowling and pointing his finger towards the garden, anger evident in his features.

"That's precisely what we need. Voldemort's right-hand man coming to gloat over his victims. It's despicable. He's mocking us and those we've lost. And no one here is doing anything..."

"No one is mocking anyone, Robards."

Kingsley's deep voice rang amidst the silence, startling Harry.

"Severus Snape is a free man. A wizard who has dedicated his life to the fight against the Dark forces." Kingsley continued. "There will be a trial to finish clearing up his situation, but, until then, he can come and go as he pleases. And that includes the funeral of two of his colleagues. as were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks."

The man called Robards didn't look too happy about being scolded in front of everyone. But Kingsley's authority, or perhaps his intimidating presence, was enough to silence any retort the Auror had in mind. Still scowling, he nodded his head and said nothing more, but his gaze was still filled with rage, and he did not turn away from where Snape stood.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the conversations resumed again, though touching on less thorny subjects. Mrs. Weasley made a comment about how adorable Teddy was and how much she would love to be a grandmother, smiling at Bill and Fleur, who shared a look of panic.

At the same time, Harry wondered if Snape had noticed what his presence had caused. He turned slightly so that he could observe the Potions Master, but, as he glanced past the last row of chairs, he realized that it was empty. For an instant, his heart raced in alarm, and his eyes darted around the garden, until, finally, he found the two figures he was looking for.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the mound of earth where Remus and Tonks had been buried, blowing her nose with a white handkerchief. Behind her, sitting in one of the nearest chairs, was Snape. From that distance it was difficult to read his face, but he looked as impenetrable as ever. That caused a flash of anger in Harry. He hadn't expected him to cry in front of everyone, but was it so hard to show a minimum of sadness at the funeral of two people he had known for so many years? He would have wanted to go up to him and shake him to get a reaction from the man, but instead he just stared from afar as anger gave way to grief. He didn't understand the Potions Master. At some point in the last few weeks, he thought he had, but their fight the day before had changed his mind. He had some theories, some ideas as to why he had done one thing or the other, why he had reacted that way. But with Snape nothing was ever clear. Harry sighed and that desperate need to talk to Remus returned with a vengeance. The werewolf had always given him good advice and was one of the few people who could help him understand the Potions Master's behavior. But Remus lay under the ground, a few meters from his old enemy, and would never be able to help him decipher that enigma that was Severus Snape.

"I'm here." Andromeda Tonks' voice pulled Harry from his thoughts.

Turning around, he saw the woman in front of the table, placing a bottle of orange liquid on it. Around her, dozens of crystal glasses floated midair.

"Who wants to go first? Come on, there's fire whiskey for everyone..."

Slowly, the guests formed a queue in front of her, and as the line moved forward, the glasses where filled and so were their hands. Stepping aside to let Ginny get her own cup, Harry was surprised to see that Molly hadn't intervened or complained about it. He supposed that, on such an occasion, being underage didn't matter.

The boy stood next to Ron, Ginny and the rest of his friends, forming, along with the other guests, a semicircle around the table. Suddenly, a noise coming from behind caught his attention and Minerva McGonagall walked past him. The professor greeted Andromeda and, after a brief exchange of words, bent down to pick up her own glass as well. Meanwhile, Harry was aware that only one person was missing, and he could feel his presence behind him. The Aurors' stares, some curious and some filled with anger, told him the exact spot where Snape was. Harry forced himself not to react and fixed his eyes on the glass he held in his hands, on the swirling orange liquid that reflected the last rays of sunlight.

Finally, Snape took a step forward and then crossed the distance separating him from Andromeda.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said, once he was in front of her, and Harry thought he heard a spark of sadness in his deep voice.

"Thank you." The woman replied. Then she placed one last glass between the Potions Master's long fingers.

Snape thank her with a brief nod, and broke away to stand beside Professor McGonagall, completing the semicircle.

After checking that everyone was ready, looking at her and with a glass on their hands, Andromeda raised her own cup, up towards the increasingly darkening sky.

"To Tonks." She said. "The best daughter a mother could ask for. The sweetest, kindest, most generous person I've ever known. And to her husband, Remus, who was brave and wise and good, and who loved her more than anything in the world. So much so that he fought against fear, shame, and prejudice, to be with her. They died to make this world a better place. For their beloved son and for all of us.

May they find happiness together wherever they are. And may we remember them. The love we feel for them and they for us, as well as all the moments and memories we shared during so many years. May we carry them always in our hearts and live a life they would have been proud of."

The others raised their glasses and Harry joined them, his heart in his throat.

"To Remus and Tonks." Andromeda said solemnly.

"To Remus and Tonks." They all repeated. Then they lowered their glasses and took a drink from them.

Harry felt the liquor flow inside him, it was strong, harsh and hot, but it also helped undo the lump in his throat. Then, while he was taking his second sip, something moved to his left. Snape had lowered his glass and was turning to look at him directly, his dark eyes gleaming. The boy held his gaze for a split second, but then immediately turned away, as if he had been burned. Hermione noticed his reaction and moved towards him, concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She whispered.

"Yeah...it's just... Snape's right there and he's making me nervous."

Hermione turned slightly, assessing the situation, and then nodded. She walked a few steps to where all the Aurors were standing and smiled at them sweetly as they turned to face her. The she said loudly:

"You were Tonks' colleagues, right?"

One of them, a tall woman with brown hair that reached her chin, nodded, smiling back at her.

"Yes, we were."

"Are there any stories you can tell us about her? I'm sure someone like Tonks lived plenty of adventures and interesting moments."

The woman's smile widened, and although there was some sadness in her eyes, they sparkled from the memories.

"Oh, I have a thousand stories to tell you." She said. "Some are not appropriate for a situation like this... But I can think of a few that will make you laugh until your bellies hurt."

Soon, the Auror was surrounded by the remaining guests, eager not to miss a single word, and Harry shared a grateful look with Hermione. It was easier and more pleasant to listen to Tonks' adventures than to have to feel Snape's dark eyes on him.

The Auror hadn't lied, Tonks had experienced some truly curious and amusing moments throughout her career at the Ministry. In addition to the usual perks of the job, her clumsiness had not made things easy for her. From accidentally dropping her wand in front of a potential dark wizard during her first months as an auror, to stumbling into a puddle of troll snot and having to Apparate in her supervisor's office to report that the creature had escaped, dripping the disgusting sticky liquid onto the man's carpet.

Minutes passed, as the sun left the sky and the moon and stars came out, changing the colors of the garden and refreshing the night air. And, with each new story, the glasses were refilled again and again and both laughter and tears appeared on the guests' faces.

After a few minutes, or hours, Harry wasn't sure, some of them began to say their goodbyes, hugging Andromeda and waving to the others, before Apparating with a resounding crack. Gradually, one by one, the garden emptied until only Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione, as well as McGonagall and Snape, were left.

Then, Andromeda made them sit at the table and, to Harry's misfortune, it was not so easy anymore to ignore the Potions Master, although the boy tried, stubbornly avoiding looking him in the face. At that point, the alcohol had taken its toll, and Arthur and Bill were talking in an overly elevated tone, with wide smiles on their faces, explaining the umpteenth anecdote about Remus and Tonks. Beside them, Professor McGonagall was raising her glass, her cheeks redder than usual and seemingly oblivious to the sour expression on Snape's face. The former Death Eater had not participated in the conversations and had not reacted to any of the stories. He had merely nodded and raised his glass, when necessary, but nothing more. And it was getting on Harry's nerves. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and, picking up his glass with his right hand, he rose from his chair.

"Sorry." He said. "But I think I've had too much to drink. I'm going to get some fresh air."

Ron started to say something about how they were already outside and there was fresh air there, but Ginny shushed him with a pinch on the arm, and Andromeda smiled kindly at him, ignoring the full glass on his hand.

"Of course." She said. "It should be fresher on the other side of the house, facing the field. During the night there's a very nice breeze over there."

Harry nodded, gratefully, and started to walk away from the table.

"Let us know if you need anything or want company." Hermione told him.

"I will. Thanks."

Harry turned and kept walking, feeling a little more clumsy than usual. After a few minutes, he made it to one of the wooden benches and sat down on it. Leaning his head against the backrest, the boy took a deep breath, observing the dark sky and the stars shining in it. In front of him, the moonlight bathed the hills in the distance in silvery colors, as well as the wide meadow that stretched from them to the edge of the terrace. A breeze gently swayed the grass and Harry breathed in deeply, feeling the wind on his face and the coolness on his skin, causing the smell of earth, flowers and vegetation to fill his lungs, calming his agitated heart.

After a while, he felt footsteps approaching and, without having to turn around, he immediately knew who it was. Snape walked the few meters that separated them and then sat down on the bench next to him. Harry decided to ignore him and continued to stare straight ahead, taking a sip from his glass and causing the liquor to burn inside him once more.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity he waited for Snape to make the first move.

"You were right." Said the Potions Master finally, when Harry already thought he wasn't going to utter a word. "About coming here. It helped me."

It was a small victory, but, after everything that had happened, it wasn't enough.

"Good for you." Replied the boy.

Snape stared at him, surprised by his bluntness.

"I thought you'd be happy to hear that. I came to the funeral like you wanted and-"

"You still don't understand." Harry muttered. "Did you really think that showing up like this, unannounced and in the middle of the ceremony, was going to change anything?" He shook his head in disbelief. "That by saying a couple of sentences I was going to automatically forgive you? 'You were right. It helped me.'" He repeated angrily. "Is that your idea of an apology?"

Snape's face hardened.

"No." He said firmly. "I was not apologizing. It was simply a fact."

He added nothing more, and suddenly Harry was tired of waiting for him to do so. If Snape hadn't come to apologize or explain himself, then he wasn't going to stand there, listening to him. With a growl of frustration, he got up from the bench and began to walk away from the man.

As he passed him, however, Snape grabbed his arm.

"Potter, wait."

That physical contact, unusual for the Potions Master, stopped him. Harry hesitated for a moment.

"I did not express myself well. Wait." He repeated. "Sit down again."

"Why?" The boy said, still avoiding his gaze. Instead, he pinned his eyes on the glass he was still holding in his right hand, on that orange liquid that burned less than the rage he felt towards Snape.

"Sit down." The professor insisted. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Harry jerked his arm free of his grip, causing the glass to shake dangerously. A few drops of liquor spilled onto the floor, but he didn't care. "Why? Have you come up with more cruel and horrible things to say to me? Forget it. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." And, to make it clear that he meant it, he looked at him straight in the face for the first time.

Snape's straight black hair and hooked nose were the same as ever, but the black eyes glittered with something Harry couldn't identify and, beneath them, deep dark circles, even more pronounced than the last time he had seen him, stood out against the white of his skin. The image made him hesitate for a second and, in that instant, Snape spoke again.

"Sit down, Potter." He said, with a pleading tone Harry had never heard in the man. "Please."

Snape's mouth had moved, but that word was so uncharacteristic of him that it took Harry a few seconds to take it in.

"Please." He repeated, and the restrained desperation in his voice blew away the anger Harry had felt seconds before.

Green eyes met the black ones, and time seemed to slow down. The boy's heart began to pound as he wondered what to do next. He was aware that he had to make a decision, but what? Was it worth sitting down again, taking the risk of listening to what Snape wanted to tell him? Or should he go on his way, walk away from the man and the damage he had caused him? Harry swallowed hard, as the professor remained seated on the bench, turned in his direction with his arm still raised towards him. He was watching him, waiting for his next gesture, but Harry knew that, if he continued walking, he would not intervene this time. Something inside him stirred and the reality that it was now or never, that whatever he chose would be final, made him dizzy. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, considering his options. If he kept walking, if he moved away from the bench, he would be closing the door on Snape and a possible reconciliation. On the other hand, if he went back, if he sat next to him, there would at least be a chance of working things out. The first option seemed the most obvious and simple. He had lived his whole life without having the professor in it and it hasn't turned out so bad. Besides, perhaps this time Snape had gone too far. The wounds caused by him were deep and still bleeding, perhaps they could never fully close. Perhaps the sadness and anger Harry felt were stronger than his ability to forgive, than the friendship, for lack of a better term, he had formed with Snape over the past few weeks. For an instant he believed it and, without stopping to think, he moved, turning his back to the man. Then he opened his eyes and took a tentative step forward, away from Snape.

The relief he expected to feel did not come, and instead, the pressure in his chest increased. He could feel the Potions Master's gaze on his back and something in him rebelled at the thought of pushing him out of his life like that. Did he really want to do it? To end things like that? To never see Snape again? To make everything they had built disappear? His heart pounded again at these questions. Before he could answer them, however, dozens of memories exploded in his mind. Snape, pale and bandaged, recovering on his gurney, unknowingly creating a safe space around him. Snape, patiently listening to him, advising him. Snape, conjuring the doe, calming him, helping him deal with his fears. Snape, with something akin to pride in his features, with a small smile on his face. Snape, coming to the funeral, even after they had argued, begging him to wait, to sit next to him, to listen.

For a few moments nothing happened. Harry remained like that, standing, not moving. He could feel the cold glass in his hands, the muffled voices of his friends coming from the front of the house, the sound of cicadas in the grass... but most of all, he could feel Snape's presence behind him. He took a deep breath and finally turned again, in the direction of the professor. His eyes met Snape's once more. The desperation in them had lessened, but it was still present.

Harry swallowed hard as he came to a decision. Once he did, he began to walk. In the direction of the bench, towards the uncertainty, towards the possibility of being hurt again. But also, towards that safe place that had kept him sane after the Battle. He kept walking, crossing the few yards that separated them, until he arrived next to Snape, who was watching him intently.

"I didn't think you were coming back."

"I'm still deciding." Harry replied, though he sat back down on the bench.

"I understand..."

Silence fell between the two of them, once again. Harry fiddled with the glass he was still holding and finally decided to let it rest on the floor. His hands were sweating, and he didn't want to risk breaking it. Besides, there was still some liquor left in it and, considering his history with Snape, it wouldn't be wise to waste it. He would probably need to take a drink before too long.

"Well?" He said, trying to hide the nervousness he was feeling with curtness. "You said you had to talk to me. I'm here. So talk."

Those words made Snape react. The man, who had been watching him silently, averted his gaze. Then he cleared his throat, trying to keep his face expressionless.

"You're right." He said finally. "I wanted to tell you that... You deserve an apology. Yesterday, I... I said some things I shouldn't have said. And... I'm sorry." From the way he uttered those words, Harry got the feeling that he had practiced them several times. The boy sighed. While he appreciated the gesture, it wasn't enough.

"I appreciate you apologizing." He told him honestly. "I am aware that in other times you would not have done so. But, still, what you did yesterday doesn't just go away."

Snape sighed.

"I know, Potter."

"That's it? You're not going to try to convince me? You're not going to give me any explanation?

Snape ran a hand over his face wearily.

"It's... It's not so simple."

That irritated Harry. Snape had had no trouble finding just the right words to hurt him, but now that he had to explain himself, suddenly things weren't oh so simple.

"This isn't easy for me, Potter." Continued the professor quietly. "It's not that I don't want to... It's just that..." He looked lost, more so than Harry had ever seen him. "There are several reasons. Some even I don't really understand. And others that... That I can't..." He didn't finish the sentence, but the boy understood. Even after everything that had happened, Snape still wasn't able to talk about certain subjects. "But there is something I want you to know. Most of the things I said... I don't really mean them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had imagined something like that. Especially the day before, when Snape had started getting defensive. At the time it had seemed like he was saying those things to manipulate him so Harry would leave him alone. But then the professor's words had become even more cruel and that certainty had disappeared.

"Then why did you say them?" He asked. He needed to know, if he was ever going to forgive Snape.

The professor averted his gaze and said nothing for a few seconds. Perhaps, if he had been more patient, Snape would have eventually answered his question, but Harry had grown tired of that game, of waiting. Feeling a rush of courage, perhaps caused by the liquor coursing through his veins, he blurted out:

"I have a theory. I think it scared you that I tried to help you. You were afraid of the possibility of opening up, of being vulnerable." He could have bitten his tongue, but he wanted to show Snape that he was no idiot. And besides, he'd had enough of not saying things straight. "So you tried to hurt me so I would leave you alone, not caring about the consequences your words might cause. Am I right, sir?"

Snape watched him for a few seconds in silence, surprised. Then he averted his gaze, confirming that he had hit the nail on the head.

"It's not that simple." He said. "But you're partly right, Potter." He lifted a glass he was holding in his hands, one Harry hadn't noticed before, and took a long swig. It contained the same fire whiskey that Snape had been drinking all afternoon. And now that he stopped to think about it, Madam Pomfrey's face appeared in some corner of his mind, with a disapproving expression. He knew the healer would not be happy to see her patient drinking alcohol when he was still recovering. But, from the way Snape drained his glass, it was clear that he needed all the courage that liquor could bring him.

As Harry waited patiently, the Potions Master bent down to place the now empty glass on the floor beside the bench. Then he leaned his back against the backrest and looked up at the sky. The moon shone in his dark eyes as the seconds ticked by.

"You're right in that... there are certain situations that I find difficult to manage." Snape said, still not looking at him, and it didn't take a genius to realize how hard it was for him to open up, even if only a little. One part of Harry, the part that was still angry, was glad to see him so uncomfortable and lost. The other, however, was aware that, despite that, Snape was still there, trying to find the right words to explain himself so that he could forgive him. That made him feel strange, sad, and comforted at the same time.

"I find them difficult to manage." Snape repeated, with his gaze fixed on that starry sky. "And, to avoid feeling that way, I... I react in ways I shouldn't. I... I lean on the worst parts of myself. And I use them to protect myself, to defend myself." After saying those words, Snape's jaw clenched tightly, causing Harry to narrow his eyes. He recognized that expression. He had seen it before.

"It's happened again, hasn't it?"

Snape looked at him at last, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"Your defenses. They've formed again. It was being too much for you, wasn't it, opening up like this?"

The expression on Snape's face was all Harry needed to confirm his suspicions.

"Potter..."

"For Merlin's sake..." Harry muttered in exasperation. "It's been four sentences. Four sentences about something anyone with half a brain them would have figured out by now. But it was still too much for you."

"Yes." Snape said angrily, though it was clearly at himself, and not Harry. "What do you want me to tell you, Potter? That's how I am. Unfortunately, I am like this. I came all this way, with the intention of apologizing, of giving you an explanation. And even then..." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm not able to do it. Even now, when I know I've made a mistake, I'm not able to silence this part of me. And..." He added, averting his gaze once again. "You don't know how many comments, each one more cruel than the last, are in my mind right now."

Harry was aware that he should be frustrated and irritated, but seeing Snape like that, with the self-loathing reflected in his features and his slumped shoulders, sparked something in the boy. Compassion pulsed strongly within him, and the need to help Snape overcome that part of himself, to be better, filled his mind, pushing aside the anger that, until mere seconds ago, he had felt towards the man.

"But it's not always like that, is it?" He said, choosing his words. "These days, in the infirmary... We've talked about a lot of things, some of them quite deep and sentimental, but it didn't seem to be so horrible for you."

The anger left the Potions Master's face, at least for a few seconds. The boy was right. He bowed his head, pondering those words.

"It's different when you're the one showing vulnerability." He said slowly. "Keeping you alive... it's something I've grown accustomed to over the years. So helping you deal with danger, even if it's mental, comes more naturally to me. Not to mention..." Snape suddenly fell silent.

"Not to mention what?" Harry asked with interest.

"Nothing." Snape muttered. "Simply that, now that I no longer loathe you, having a conversation with you is more bearable than it used to be."

Harry couldn't help himself and, despite the situation, let out a laugh.

"You can say you like talking to me, you know? Nothing's going to happen to you, sir."

Snape's face showed not a hint of humor.

"Potter. You still don't get it. You think I can change. But I can't."

"Of course you can." Harry replied, stubbornly.

"It's not that simple." Snape retorted. "I was never a sentimental person, Potter, even as a child."

"But-"

"And I've shut myself off from the rest of the world for almost two decades now." Snape cut him off. "I think it's too late to change."

"I disagree. It won't be easy, but you'll get there." Harry was sure of it. "You are talking to me right now, trying to explain yourself. And, even though it's hard, you are doing it. You are fighting that part of you."

"You don't understand, Potter." Snape replied with intensity in his eyes, raising his voice. "All these years keeping people away from me... You'll say it was necessary, that it was part of the plan, that I couldn't leave any rift that would jeopardize the mission. But that was not the only reason. It wasn't just about playing my role. About maintaining my alibi. The reality is that ... I liked it."

That confession surprised the boy. He sought Snape's gaze with his own to indicate that he wasn't judging him, but he dodged his eyes again, focusing on the landscape in front of them.

"I liked being alone." He murmured. "I liked the power, the responsibility. Not having to pretend to care about others, not having to be nice or make conversation with them..." The self-loathing was more present than ever in Snape's eyes. "And now... I don't know if I want to change. I don't even know if it's worth trying. These past few weeks, helping you... I always intended for this to be a one-way thing. I never considered that you would want to do the same for me. And when you offered to use the Stone yesterday and invited me to the funeral... I wasn't expecting it. And... it scared me."

Snape's voice trailed off and silence surrounded them. Harry, who had been listening intently, drinking in those words, trying to remember every detail of that glimpse into his mind that the man was offering him, took several deep breaths, calming his heartbeat.

"Yesterday… Maybe I pushed more than I should have..." Acknowledged the boy. "But it's only because I don't want you to go on like this forever, sir. I see that you can change and improve, and that you want to: the fact that you are here proves it. It's going to be hard. But you can make it. And I'll help you." He promised, very serious. "And I'm not saying that because I consider you my 'charity project'." He added, reminding Snape of the words he had used the day before.

The Potions Master shook his head.

"I'm not as sure as you are, Potter. And this thing you've said reminds me... We're getting off topic. My ability to 'improve', as you put it, is irrelevant right now. But there are other reasons why I reacted as I did that we need to discuss. I'm not done explaining myself." He said to the boy's surprise. "You see... My reaction yesterday... It wasn't just because of... Of this..." He made a vague gesture, pointing to himself, but added nothing more.

Silence fell over the garden and Harry looked at Snape expectantly, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"Sir?"

The man took a deep breath and opened his mouth. When no sound came out of it, he closed it again and let out a frustrated growl.

"For Merlin's sake." He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

It only took one look for Harry to understand that Snape wasn't going to be able to keep talking. It had to be the first time the Potions Master had tried to open up like this, and with each new confession and show of vulnerability, the boy knew it would only be harder for him to continue. Thinking about what to do, how to make things easier for Snape, Harry looked around. He watched the swaying grass, the meadow bathed in moonlight, tinged with silver... And suddenly, an idea came to his mind.

"Sir." He said softly. "Remember when I had to explain to you what happened at Hagrid's hut? The reason why Fred's funeral scared me so much?"

Snape lifted his head, his dark eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Yes, I remember."

Harry swallowed.

"It was very difficult for me, but you helped me. You were patient. And you told me that words were just that, that they couldn't hurt me if I didn't let them."

Snape continued to watch him without saying anything.

"And then," Harry continued, "when even that wasn't enough... You managed to calm me down with your Patronus." He pulled his wand from the pocket of his black robes and looked at Snape questioningly.

"May I?"

The Potions Master said nothing, inscrutable, with that mask of impassivity that characterized him, and his eyes remained on the boy's face as he decided what to do. The seconds passed and Harry began to get nervous. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it anymore, Snape took a deep breath. Then he put a hand to the bridge of his nose, massaging it several times. Finally, to Harry's surprise and relief, he nodded.

Heart pounding, still unable to believe that Snape had agreed, the boy raised his wand. Then he closed his eyes, trying to recapture a happy memory. He hadn't conjured a Patronus again since the Battle and, for an instant, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to. But Snape was there, talking to him, explaining himself. And, surprisingly, he trusted him enough to believe that the presence of his stag could calm him. Harry felt the affection for the man, the connection between the two of them pulsing inside him. Despite everything that had happened, those feelings made the corners of his lips curl up and a small smile spread across his face. Concentrating on those emotions, Harry waved his wand and said loudly and clearly:

"Expecto Patronum."

Feeling the energy flowing from his right hand to the wand, Harry opened his eyes. A stag made of pure light stood in front of him, connected to his wand by a silver-blue strand. The animal trotted across the field in front of him, illuminating the grass and the insects that fluttered in it. Then, he walked over to the two figures standing on the bench and raised his head, watching them and shaking his ears.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling how the air around them was already warmer than a few seconds ago, and how his heart also weighed less in the presence of the Patronus. Waiting for the professor to be ready to speak, he looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Snape was staring at the stag intently, studying it, and his eyes were shining.

"It's... different." He said suddenly, so low that Harry almost thought he had imagined it.

"Sorry?"

Snape looked away, but, despite that, answered his question.

"Your stag." He said. "It looks a lot like your father's, but, at the same time..."

He didn't finish the sentence and Harry stared at him, holding his breath. But the seconds passed, and Snape said nothing more, until something bright moved, approaching him. The Patronus placed himself right in front of the man, the animal's snout in front of the Potions Master's hooked nose. Snape raised his left arm, the one on which the Dark Mark had been burned on, all those years ago, and his hand trembled slightly as it landed on the creature's fur. When his fingers felt the brush of the Patronus light, Harry heard a sigh come out between Snape's lips, and his shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension that had built up in them.

"It's different." He repeated, in a trembling voice. "I feel... a familiarity that I don't know how to explain."

Harry didn't say anything for fear of breaking up that moment. He just stared at him in silence, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the moisture in Snape's eyes.

"What were you thinking about when you conjured him?"

"Sorry?"

"Patronus usually reflect the memories used to create them." Snape said, blinking rapidly, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. "I can tell that yours recognizes me. And I recognize him too, somehow. Were you thinking about your parents?"

Harry stirred, somewhat uncomfortably.

"No..."

Snape pressed on.

"Your friends, then?"

"No."

Snape's eyes met his and something stirred in the depths of the man's.

"What were you thinking about, Potter?

Harry looked away.

"Are you really going to make me say it out loud?" He muttered.

Snape stared at him, while the Patronus rested his head in his hands, illuminating them.

"I need to hear it." He confessed in a low voice.

The expression on his face caused Harry's defensive attitude to disappear. That's what we're here for, the boy said to himself. To talk a. To bout things. To put the cards on the table. His heartbeat quickened, but Harry focused his gaze on the Patronus, remembering the feelings that had allowed him to create it. He sighed, bracing himself and gathering his courage. Then he squared his shoulders and, raising his head, looked Snape in the eyes.

"I was thinking about you." He said. "I know that will probably make you uncomfortable. But I don't want to lie to you."

Snape didn't avoid his gaze, though there was confusion on his face.

"I don't understand..."

"I know it may seem ridiculous," Harry replied, "after our story, after what you did yesterday. But... the fact that you are here, trying... It means a lot. It means that... that you think it's worth it, fixing things. And that I..." He averted his gaze and suddenly fell silent, as courage left him, and shame took its place.

For a moment, Harry feared that he had gone too far. That this demonstration of sentimentality had exceeded the limit of man. But, to his surprise, Snape leaned back, resting his head against the back of the bench, looking at the dark sky, and said something Harry would never have expected.

"Of course it's worth it, Potter." He told him. "Just because I'm a complete idiot doesn't mean it's not true."

Harry just stared at him.

"Listen…" Snape sighed, still with his gaze on the stars. "This is partly what I wanted to talk about earlier. One of the reasons I acted the way I did yesterday."

"What do you mean?"

Snape's eyes were still fixed high above, on the dark vault above their heads, but he replied to him.

"I mean that, what made me react that way, it wasn't just about…. About not wanting you to help me, or about my inability to open up to others. The reason, Potter, was... you."

That caused Harry to frown.

"I don't understand. I'm the problem, then?"

"No. You're not the problem, Potter. I am. I thought this was clear."

Harry's expression showed that this was not the case and, upon seeing it, Snape sighed wearily. He leaned forward again, sitting upright and then brought his hands closer to the Patronus once more. The warmth of the deer warmed him up and Snape took a deep breath several times, gathering strength before continuing to speak. When he did, his discomfort was evident, but also the determination in his features.

"Listen…" He began, and Harry prepared himself for another trip into the man's brain.

The thoroughness with which Snape expressed his thoughts (whenever he wanted) was amazing and, although it was sometimes exhausting to follow the explanation to the end, Harry appreciated it. Such conversations helped him understand his former teacher better.

"This... relationship we've formed." Snape continued. "This... friendship. It's a strange thing for me." He acknowledged, averting his gaze. "I haven't had too many friends in my life, Potter. The Malfoys are a different, complicated thing... And, after everything that's happened... I don't even know what I think about them. Or them about me." Pain appeared in his eyes and Snape shook his head. "Leaving them aside, only two other people could fall into that category." He held up one finger and then another. "Albus. And your mother. As you can see, Potter, it doesn't take a genius to realize that I've caused the death of both of them. The most important people in my life... and I've killed them both."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Snape was faster.

"No. It's not a debate, Potter. It's a reality. And I say it for you to contradict me. I told you so that you'd understand my point of view. If things have ended up like this in both cases... it's only a matter of time before something similar happens to you."

"Sir..."

"Don't interrupt me, Potter." Snape replied angrily, trying to hide his vulnerability. "Maybe you won't die, but I know that somehow I will manage to hurt you. In fact, I've already done that. And you deserve better." He acknowledged, pushed by the rage he felt towards himself.

"But-"

"I am a cruel, lonely, bitter man, Potter." Snape cut him off. "I don't want you to waste your life trying to fix mine. Because you probably won't get be able to, and besides, it's not even worth it."

Silence fell between them, as Harry took in those words. When he did, anger filled his features and the Patronus flickered for a second, decreasing the intensity of its light.

"But that's completely stupid!" He shouted. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Besides, no one can know what is going to happen. Not even you. To ruin this" He made a gesture pointing to himself and then to Snape, "to try to prevent a possible situation in the future or because you think you don't deserve it... It doesn't make any sense."

"It does to me." Stated Snape. "Not to mention..." He didn't continue the sentence and his cheeks became an ugly pink color.

Harry watched him and, when it was clear that he was not going to keep talking, he sighed impatiently.

"What?" He said, irritated. "'Not to mention', what?"

The blush on Snape's face, as well as the obvious discomfort on the man, should have been enough of a warning to Harry. But the boy was too angry with this ridiculous situation to put two and two together so, ignoring the teacher's reaction, he asked:

"What's the matter?"

Snape sighed and then looked at any spot around him that wasn't Harry, before saying:

"What I said yesterday. About... uh... your need for a figure..." Snape swallowed hard, as if he had something stuck in his throat. "A... father figure. Someone to fill the gap that your... that your father and Black-"

"Oh, for Merlin." Muttered Harry, his cheeks burning. "We don't have to talk about it. Seriously, sir, I..."

Snape shook his head, although it was clear that he didn't want to touch the subject either.

"No, Potter." He insisted. Harry's embarrassment seemed to have helped him regain some control over himself. "It's normal that you feel that need." He said, using his most clinical tone. "I don't have to be a healer or a psychologist to know that, given your history and... well, the fact that you're still very young. You still need someone to fill that gap in your life."

Harry, trying to find something to do with his hands, retrieved the glass containing the fire whiskey, the one he had left on the floor at the beginning of his conversation with Snape and had forgotten until that moment. He took the last sips of liquor, feeling the heat on his cheeks expand to his throat and then to the rest his body. Avoiding Snape's dark eyes, he said:

"Look... I'm not saying that you're right. But, even if you were... I don't understand why that would have anything to do with your reaction of yesterday."

Snape continued to stare at him, provoking a rush of irritation in Harry. It was obvious that seeing him as uncomfortable as he had been all night had given the professor a new self-confidence.

"Oh, it has a lot to do with it, Potter. Your need for a father figure-"

"Can we not call it that, please?" Interrupted Harry with a grimace.

"Fine" Snape said, and his lips curved for a split second, in a hint of a smile. "Your need for an adult. For a... mentor, perhaps? Is that better?"

"I suppose…" Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders, as if that topic wasn't so important. Although he wanted to retort, biting his tongue might make that torture end faster.

"Alright." The Potions Master continued. "That need, as I've said before, is completely normal and natural, given your circumstances. The problem..." The security he had shown during the last few minutes was replaced again by that discomfort so uncharacteristic of Snape. "The problem..."

He didn't finish the sentence and Harry couldn't help himself. Despite the embarrassment, he asked:

"The problem, what?"

Snape swallowed hard. Then he passed a hand over his face wearily.

"Nothing would make me happier than not having to talk about this subject, Potter. But since yesterday..." He sighed, leaving the sentence in the air. "I can't ignore it. Because I know that my words are still there, in your head. And I know you need an explanation. So... here it is." Snape exhaled deeply and then looked into his eyes, piercing them with his own. "The problem is that... it shouldn't be me. Lupin, Black, Albus, your father." He enunciated each of the names slowly and clearly, and with each word their faces appeared in Harry's mind, hurting like a knife to the chest. "Even now, Arthur Weasley... They should be the ones to help you deal with what happened. They should be the ones playing this…role. Everyone. Every single one of them would be a better choice than me."

Harry swallowed and looked down. Snape was right. The Potions professor was the last person anyone in their right mind would consider to fill that void. But, even so, the man had protected him for almost two decades and, despite his brusqueness and his many flaws, had helped him when he needed it most. Maybe it was because there was no one else, or maybe it would have happened anyway, even if Sirius and Remus were still alive, but Harry couldn't help but feel that connection. If in some impossible way, Snape could fill some of that horrible hole in his life, then he wasn't going to give him up. Even if it was difficult for Harry himself to understand.

"I'm not saying I don't want to try." Snape added, replying to the boy's silence. "But I am aware that it is unfair."

That caused Harry to frown.

"Unfair?"

"Yes." Snape nodded. "Believe me, Potter. I'm no martyr and I still hate your father, Black... but, at this point, if I could... I would exchange my situation with theirs without a second's hesitation. The war is over and, with it, my usefulness. Black and your father, even Dumbledore. Any one of them would do a better job than me. And it would be much more fair if they had survived and I had died. That's the reality."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. Although a part of him understood what Snape was saying, he didn't like it at all that he thought about himself like that. The fact that he gave so little importance to his own life and that his value as a person depended on his role as a spy, on the benefits he could bring in the war against Voldemort.

"Sir, of course I wish they were alive," he began, "but you-"

"Don't argue with me about this." Snape cut him off. "You know it's true, Potter. It doesn't make sense that I, who have only made mistakes in my life, am still here. While, the others, instead-".

"Sir." Harry tried again, causing a flash of anger to cross Snape's face.

"I told you I'm not going to argue about this, Potter." He said, raising his voice. "Right now, Lupin and Tonks are rotting under the grass and the dirt, while I'm still here, living the same despicable life and continuing on the same old path." Snape turned, pointing towards the front of the house, towards the graves of Remus and Tonks, and, although he couldn't see them from there, his face contracted into a grimace of sadness and anger. "Do you really think it's better for this world, for their infant son, that it's me who is still breathing, instead of them?"

Harry swallowed, surprised by the intensity and saddened to hear how little Snape valued his own existence.

"Sir..."

"All these people who came to the funeral today, Potter…" Snape cut him again "it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Everyone was thinking the same thing. That I shouldn't be here. That I should have died instead. And, honestly, they are right."

A flash of pain crossed his face and, when he saw it, guilt filled Harry's chest.

"I didn't mean it." He muttered, suddenly remembering, feeling an urgent need to apologize.

Snape seemed to wake up from the trance of self-deprecation into which he had fallen. He turned to Harry, not understanding.

"Excuse me?"

"Leaving you in the Shrieking Shack. What I said yesterday. I didn't mean it."

It took Snape a few seconds to understand why Harry was so distressed. When he did, he clicked his tongue and then waved a hand dismissively.

"I know, Potter." He said. "It's all right."

"No, it isn't." Harry insisted. "I shouldn't have said it. It doesn't matter how angry I was."

Snape looked at him for a few moments, in silence.

"I said it first." He reminded him. "And I wanted you to agree with me. In fact, I manipulated you to do so. You just reacted the way I expected you to."

Harry shook his head.

"Even so. There are some things that should never be said. No matter what. I'm sorry."

The guilt was still present in the boy's eyes, so Snape raised a hand, trying to reassure him.

"It's okay, Potter."

"No." Replied Harry. "It's not."

"Potter."

"If you had died... Then all of this…" He said, pointing to himself and then to Snape. "It wouldn't have happened. Did you stop to think about it? Because I did."

The professor opened his mouth and then immediately closed it, pressing his lips together until they formed a thin line.

"I understand what you mean, okay?" Harry continued. "About feeling guilty for surviving when so many people didn't. But, for a few hours I thought you had died in the Shrieking Shack. And I can assure you that it wasn't justice what I felt."

Snape looked into his eyes and could see pain and fear in them. He had not considered how the boy had felt during his supposed death. But then he remembered what Poppy had said, how Potter and his friends had taken turns to sit next to him, on the infirmary's gurney. He remembered the relief in the boy's eyes when he had opened his. His smile and his tears of joy, the boy's backpack leaning against the chair in which he had watched over him for so many hours, while he was recovering from Nagini's attack... Severus felt a tug on his chest. An unusual feeling in him.

"Your story could not end like this." Said Harry. "After so many years working to defeat Voldemort... You couldn't die right in front of the finish line."

Snape tilted his head, indicating that he was right. The relief and satisfaction he felt knowing that the Dark Lord had been defeated, this time definitively, had made all the fear, anxiety, sleepless nights, doubts, lies and planning of his almost twenty years as a spy worth it.

"And that wasn't the only thing." Harry was saying now. "I had just found out the truth about you. If you had died... I would have lost the opportunity to get to know you better, to talk to you and to understand you. After so many years of fighting and hating each other over stupid stuff... It would have been unfair not to be able to fix things, not to be able to thank you for everything you had done."

Harry's voice trailed off and the echo of his words remained in the air. Snape looked away and swallowed, trying to undo the lump in his throat.

"Potter..."

"I was exhausted, you know? After the battle, I mean. I just wanted to sleep." Harry said. "I didn't want to think about the people who had died. I couldn't. I just wanted to lie down. Close my eyes and feel nothing for a few hours. But I couldn't leave you there." He muttered and his voice shook. "You deserved to be at home, at Hogwarts, surrounded by the people you had helped save. Not alone in that horrible place." Tears had appeared in his eyes as he remembered, and Harry blinked to hold them back. "It was the only thing I could do if you were already gone. My way of... of trying to make things right."

"Potter." Snape's hand on his shoulder surprised him. "I... it's still hard for me to understand that I survived. That we both did, actually. During this last year I never thought it possible. But, I'm glad you're still here. And... despite what I've said before. Despite... the way I am. I'm glad I'm still here too. Even if I don't have a purpose, even if I don't understand it. I'm glad I've been able to get to know you better these weeks."

Harry watched him and saw that Snape's dark eyes were shining. He felt the warmth of the hand on his shoulder, and it spread all over his body, filling him with affection for the man. He was about to open his mouth to respond when the soft, deep voice sounded again, surprising him.

"And, Potter... I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday. I've said it before, but I'm saying it again. I shouldn't have said all those things. No matter how... scared I was. No matter." He repeated, withdrawing his hand from his shoulder and joining it with the other that rested on Snape's lap.

Harry watched him in silence, feeling how those words increased the warmth in his chest even more. It was amazing how, with each new explanation that Snape had given him throughout the night, the boy could understand more and more the reasoning behind his reaction from the day before. Fear, anger, exhaustion, the feeling of not being enough, the need to defend himself... Snape had mixed those emotions and used fragments of the truth to build weapons that could hurt Harry deeply, pushing him away from him. If it hadn't hurt so much, he would have been fascinated by the Potions Master's ability to make others hate him. And, now that he understood why, he could almost accept the professor's apology. Only one piece was missing to complete the puzzle.

"I want to forgive you." He told him. "But I need to know, sir, why did you change your mind? Yesterday you seemed ready to keep me out of your life forever. And today you are here, apologizing. I don't understand."

Snape sighed, looking back at the Patronus, gathering strength once more.

"I regretted it the moment you walked out the door." He admitted. "It wasn't easy to say all those things. Believe me, I didn't enjoy them. But it wasn't until you left... until I realized that my words had had the desired effect..." Snape gave a sarcastic smile, full of self-deprecation. "It wasn't until then that... that it really hit me what I had done. And the consequences of it."

Harry held his breath, waiting for Snape to continue talking.

"And then... tonight... let's just say it wasn't the best night of my life. I've been thinking a lot. Reflecting on every path I could take. About whether I should leave things as they were, or if, instead, I should try to apologize and fix the problem that I, myself, had created... It would have been easier to do nothing. But... but I couldn't..."

Snape didn't finish the sentence and, instead, he sighed once more. Then he closed his dark eyes and massaged his temples, trying to reduce the headache that had been accompanying him since he had arrived at the funeral. It had only increased, fueled by alcohol and emotions, and Snape was sure that it was not going to disappear any time soon.

"Sir?" Harry asked gently, after a few long seconds of silence.

The Potions Master pulled his hands away from his face and slowly opened his eyes.

"This is exhausting." He muttered. "How do people do it?"

Harry didn't know what to answer to that, so he just shrugged and kept silent. The seconds passed, but Snape continued without saying anything, without finishing that sentence he had started. Suddenly, his frown deepened even more and his thin lips curled into a grimace.

"Okay, Potter." He murmured. "Do you want to know why? Why I couldn't just leave things like that?"

His dark eyes searched for the green ones and Harry felt the anticipation beating in his chest. He nodded, his heart pounding, and Snape began to speak.

"I couldn't leave things like that because... Because I imagined my life without you, Potter. And... And I didn't like it. Even with your incessant chatter and your questions and your need to come knocking on my door to annoy me every single second of the day..." Snape looked away. "Not having the possibility to help you or protect you. Not knowing what you were doing, if you were safe or not..." He swallowed hard. "It's not an option for me."

Harry looked at him, speechless. He had not expected Snape to confess those things.

"So... now you see." The man continued. "That's why I had to come today. I knew that the more time passed, the more difficult it would be to fix things. And this morning, when Minerva told me that she was coming to the funeral... Let's just say that it didn't take much for her to convince me to come. Oh, I played my part, she had to insist a lot, almost forced me to be here, she will say… But she didn't. Not really. I had already decided what I wanted to do."

The soft voice died away and Harry took a deep breath. Snape's explanations had drawn the answer to all his questions, filling in the gaps in the puzzle and writing yet another chapter in the book of things he had learned from the man over the past few weeks. The only thing left was to decide whether to forgive him or not, if it was enough to understand the reason behind his actions and accept his apology.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling the wounds in his heart, those caused by Snape's hurtful words, in their argument the day before. The boy had plenty of experience in forgiving. He had done it months ago, when Ron had returned, helping him destroy the Slytherin locket, restoring balance and joy to his life, to the trio that he, Hermione and Harry himself formed. He had also done it when he learned the whole truth about Dumbledore, despite the mistakes of the old wizard, his lies, his manipulation, despite knowing that he had to die... Harry had forgiven him.

He had also forgiven Kreacher, for having lied to him, for having partly caused the death of his godfather. And, speaking of Sirius, Harry had forgiven even him. Him and Remus, for leaving him alone for ten long years, with the Dursleys, while the werewolf hid from his past and his godfather rotted in prison because of it, too selfish and impulsive to put Harry's own good before his revenge against Pettigrew...

All of them, Harry had forgiven. And he'd done it with Snape, too. He had accepted his truth, presented in the form of memories, his past as a death eater, his role in the death of his parents, his stinging sarcasm, his hurtful and bitter personality... But could he forgive him for that last slight too?

Harry opened his eyes again and saw that Snape was still there, patient, waiting. The boy swallowed hard.

"You have to promise me something." He finally told him. "I can't be a part of your life if I'm always going to be wondering whether you are going to kick me out of it. I need you to promise me that you will try. That you'll talk to me. That if you need space, if you feel the old parts of you resurfacing, that if you are angry or upset with me for any reason... Promise me you'll let me know. I don't need a full explanation. Just a heads up. Just to understand what's going on."

Snape stared at him for a long time, his face the mask of impassivity it used to be. Before he started to show his emotions more or, actually, before Harry knew how to read them better in his eyes.

"That is a reasonable request." He said at last. "I... I promise I will try."

Harry nodded, satisfied.

"Thank you." He told him. "But, considering that you are not good at using the right words when you feel vulnerable... We need a code."

"A code?" Snape asked, probably wondering if he had made a mistake accepting that condition.

"Yes. A key word. Something that, if you tell me, I can know that you need space, that things are not right, without you having to explain yourself."

"Mm..."

"Yes." Harry insisted. "Something like... I don't know. The bat is taking over. Or something like that."

Snape stared at him as if another head had popped out from his neck.

"I think you've had too much Fire Whiskey, Potter." He said raising an eyebrow.

"But it makes sense." The boy insisted. "The bat of the dungeons is the old Snape. The one that all the Gryffindors hate. The most sarcastic and cruel. So, if you are getting back into old habits, you just have to use that phrase and I will understand perfectly what you mean."

Snape rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

"Merlin, give me patience..." He sighed. "Okay, Potter. I'll use your ridiculous code. At least until I think of a better one..."

Harry ignored that last sentence and smiled at him, glad that he had gotten away with it. That stupid smile made him wonder if maybe Snape was right. Perhaps he had drunk too much Fire Whiskey. He could feel the liquor in his body, warming him up and causing his head to weigh less and function slower than usual. But there was something else running through his veins too. Harry swallowed, suddenly emotional. He checked the wounds of his heart and, with surprise, he realized that they had closed. During the night, throughout his conversation with Snape, they had stopped bleeding and, instead, some scars had formed, reminding him of what happened. Maybe they would never disappear completely, but it was a step forward. One that he wouldn't have thought possible only twenty-four hours ago. And Snape had promised him that he would try to be better, to do things right, to never hurt him again.

"Potter?" Snape was watching him with a look of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I forgive you." Harry said suddenly. "I understand why you did what you did and, although what you said doesn't just disappear... I want to try to move on. Move forward. So... yeah. I forgive you, sir." He nodded, looking into his eyes. "But remember what I said. And your promise. Don't ever do that again. Because I probably won't be able to forgive you next time."

Snape looked at him, first with surprise, then with emotion, and finally with a new respect in his eyes.

"I understand." He told him. He stretched out his left arm to Harry, the one where, hidden under the robes, the Dark Mark was engraved with fire, and held out his hand to him. "Here's to new beginnings."

Harry looked at the outstretched palm. Years ago, at the Dursleys' house, her aunt had watched a TV program in which a woman claimed that she could read the hands of anyone who showed them to her. Apparently, she could read the line of life, wealth and love, and tell you when you were going to die, who you were going to marry or if you would earn a lot of money. Aunt Petunia had tried to do the same with Dudley, holding her son's hand over hers and proclaiming that he would live a long and happy life, full of love and riches. Harry had rolled his eyes and shook his head. But now, looking at Snape's palm, he could clearly see the line that represented life. It went down, in one direction and, halfway through it, it stopped and started going the opposite way, upwards. Harry blinked, wondering for a moment if that meant anything, and if that old lady from the TV show had been right after all.

Snape was still looking at him, his hand still raised between them, his black eyes studying him.

In the midst of a silence broken only by the soft singing of the cicadas and the whisper of the wind through the grass, Harry raised his own hand. His heart was pounding, as it had done so many times during that afternoon, but it was not fear, anger or anxiety that was pumping through his veins, it was affection for the man and, also, a small spark of something that he had not felt for a long time: excitement for the future, which no longer seemed as uncertain or dark as before.

The black eyes met the green ones, like that night in the Shrieking Shack, like that day in the infirmary, when Snape had woken up, like so many times over the years, and the boy couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. With the Patronus shining as bright as the moon and stars in the sky, Harry shook his teacher's hand.

"To new beginnings." He said.

The room was too warm. Sweat ran under the boy's dark hair, down his temples and behind his neck, and the sheets clung to his bare chest. Lately, Harry had grown accustomed to sleeping shirtless; Grimmauld Place had no Muggle wonders like air conditioning or fans, and maintaining a cooling spell all night long was exhausting, as he'd found out a few days ago, waking up refreshed but twice as tired as when he'd gone to sleep.

There was probably another spell or magical contraption that could be used to reduce that infernal heat, but Harry didn't know about it, having spent every summer with his Muggle aunt and uncle, or at the Burrow, where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took care of such things. He would have liked to ask Hermione about it, his friend was something of a walking encyclopedia and would surely find a solution to the problem, but the girl, like Ron, was half a world away at the time. The two of them had left almost two weeks ago for Australia, to find Hermione's parents and restore their memories. They had asked him if he wanted to go, but Harry knew that, as a newly formed couple, they needed privacy, and a trip like that was the perfect excuse.

Besides, the boy had his own responsibilities to attend to; the trials of Death Eaters (or those accused of being one) were due to begin shortly. Not to mention the fact that, just the thought of catching a plane and going all the way to the other side of the planet, was enough to fill Harry with exhaustion. It was the only option his friends had had: international relations were still being repaired after Voldemort's rise to power and eventual defeat, and the Portkeys, floo networks and other means of transportation were still not working. So, Ron and Hermione had bought two plane tickets instead and, after a couple of days of travelling, they had arrived safely at their destination. Harry had taken a deep breath when he had received the message on his D. A. coin saying that everything had gone well, but he had no regrets about his decision.

It had been a month since the Battle; funerals had come and gone, and the magical world had returned to some semblance of normalcy, but the boy felt as exhausted as he had that first day, when Ron and Hermione had found Snape in the Shrieking Shack. And the nightmares that haunted him at least a couple of times a week didn't help. The scenarios changed, but what happened in them was always similar: the people he had lost were there, alive, but barely. They were sick or injured, and Harry had to find a way to save them, before time ran out. Fred, Remus and Tonks, even Sirius or his parents, would talk to him, tell him it wasn't his fault, that there was nothing he could do. Still, the boy tried, again and again, all night long, but when he woke up, he knew it hadn't been enough, and that he had lost them again. That left him in a bad mood all morning, feeling moody and sullen. But it was still better than the other kind of nightmares, in which his loved ones were alive, recovering from what had happened. Maybe they were missing a limb, or had dried blood on their faces, or were smiling at him from a gurney in the infirmary, but they were there. Harry talked to them, and although they were very weak, the boy's heart pounded, full of joy, because they were alive, and the horrible reality that had haunted him for the last month was not true. The weight in his belly that he had carried with him since the Battle would disappear and Harry would smile and cry at the same time, soaking his pillow with false dreams, which would never come true. The nightmare itself wasn't so bad; the worst thing was waking up. One moment he was there talking to them, feeling complete, and suddenly the tentacles of reality started dragging him up, separating him from his loved ones. Harry would fight with all his might to stay there with them, but he always ended up opening his eyes, sweating, in the middle of the room. And those he had lost would slip through his fingers once again, leaving him alone.

Harry knew that it was his nightmares which were causing that horrible warmth in the room, but the month of June and the thick walls of Grimmauld Place didn't help either. Part of him wondered if he could modernize the house; combine Muggle inventions like electricity with the magical medieval tradition. That was yet another question he would have to wait to know the answer to, the boy resigned himself, making a mental note to ask Hermione when he had the chance. Though, come to think of it, he still didn't feel comfortable enough to make drastic changes at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had left it to him in his will, but Harry still sometimes felt like an intruder, as if he had no right to replace that old furniture, or to remove the ancient, dusty wallpaper from the walls. The cleaning that the Order had conducted in the house, plus the one that he and his friends had done last year, had transformed it into a more welcoming and inhabitable place, but it would still take time before Harry could call it home. He hoped that little by little, it would get easier for him. Especially considering that, in the whole world, Grimmauld Place was the only place that was his. Going back to Privet Drive was not an option; his relatives had returned after the war, after Harry had informed them that it was safe to do so, but he had no intention of moving back in with them. He would rather sleep on the street. As for the Burrow, it was a nice, homey place, and it was full of his loved ones, but it was a temporary solution. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had assured him that he could live there as long as he wanted, and in fact Harry had stayed there for a few days, alternating between Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, and the Burrow itself. But after a while, and especially after Ron and Hermione left for Australia, it had become clearer than ever that Harry needed his own space. He loved the Weasleys dearly, but they required time and quiet to mourn Fred and to heal the wounds of the War, and Mrs. Weasley worried too much about what to cook and how to keep them occupied when Harry and Hermione were there. The boy appreciated the effort and the affection, but he didn't like being in the way all the time, or feeling more than a guest, but less than one of the Weasleys, who had lived there all their lives and didn't have to ask where the glasses or towels were, as he did.

Besides, Harry felt that he, too, needed time alone, in his own space. He needed to process everything that had happened and filling his brain with constant distractions wasn't the best way to do that. Even if solitude didn't help him feel better, he knew he had to go through it: through the nightmares, through the memories that, without warning, popped into his mind, through the moments when a smell or a sound transported him back to the worst moments of his life, through the mental and physical exhaustion after curling up on the couch, crying, thinking about those he had lost...

Luckily for the boy, not everything was suffering. He spent his time reading books on different subjects, Defense especially, and tidying up the house, making it presentable, after a year with no one living in it. Besides that, Ginny had come to visit him a couple of times that last week, and even stayed over. Nothing had happened between them, just a few kisses and cuddling together in bed, pushing away with the warmth of their arms the nightmares they both feared to dream. But, still, Molly had worried.

"She gave me 'the talk' before I left." Ginny had said, emerging from the fireplace, as she shook the remnants of floo powder from her clothes, rolling her eyes but with a red blush on her cheeks. Harry had let out a laugh when he heard it, but his heart had pounded nervously and later, when they were both cuddled up on the couch, he hadn't been able to bite his tongue and had brought up the subject. They had talked about it for a long time and, afterwards, things had become more clear between the two of them, and they had both felt calmer for it. It was obvious that they had feelings for each other and desired to be together, but both Ginny and Harry knew it was too soon. Besides being very young, their hearts were broken, and the pain inside them was still very intense. Neither wanted to jump in and ruin what good they had, just to avoid thinking about what had happened. So, finally, they had decided to wait and take things slowly, with empathy and communication, and without getting carried away by external pressures or absurd expectations. And for both of them, in that moment, that was more than enough.

In addition to Ginny's visits, Harry had occupied his time going to see Snape on his Hogwarts quarters. Since that conversation at Remus and Tonks' funeral, they had not argued again, and instead an unusual calm had settled between the two of them. It was odd, after so many years of animosity, but the last month had changed a lot of things. And, though neither would say it out loud, both Harry and Snape appreciated the turn in their relationship. Despite that, it still felt strange for the boy to be sitting on the Potions Master's couch, sipping a hot cup of tea and chatting about unimportant things, or helping him brew new potions for the nearly empty inventory of the infirmary. Harry smiled as he remembered the expression on Snape's face that rainy morning when he had asked him if he could help him. After their usual chat on the couch, the Potions Master had gotten up and bid him farewell, telling him that he had several dozen potions to prepare and that they would see each other again in a couple of days. At that point, Harry had summoned up all his courage, and had asked Snape if he could assist him with anything, chopping ingredients, or even cleaning cauldrons if needed be.

"I was reading a Potions book yesterday," The boy had explained, "And I've realized that I'm way out of practice."

Snape had looked at him with a surprised expression on his face, almost comical.

"The Potions classroom is empty, Potter." He had replied, after a few seconds of silence. "You can use it if you want."

"I know." Harry had told him, before he could lose his courage. "But they say that to learn you have to watch the best at work. And you are one of them, sir."

Flattery didn't seem like the best strategy to convince Snape, but Harry didn't know how to tell him that he wanted to spend more time with him, and that he missed the Prince's teachings. Watching the man prepare his potions was as close as he was going to get to reading the sixteen-year-old's instructions and snide remarks again. But, to his surprise and delight, Snape had sighed and, after pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, had nodded slowly.

"I suppose that if a first-year can cut wormwood roots without making a mess, then the famous Harry Potter should be able to do the same." He had finally said, causing a wide grin from the boy.

From that moment on, every morning that Harry went to Hogwarts, after the chat on the couch and drinking his hot tea, the boy accompanied Snape to his private laboratory, where he kept cauldrons, tools and potions materials and helped him in whatever the professor told him. As the days passed, seeing that Harry had not amputated a finger, or worse, ruined one of his precious ingredients, Snape had given him more responsibilities, letting him cut stems, fruits, seeds, and even horns, claws, hair, and other animal materials, which were harder to obtain. And, with each new potion he helped create, Harry realized how relaxing he found it all. The smell of the fumes rising from the cauldrons, the precision with which the materials were prepared, the sound of the knife against the wooden board, the bubbling of the potion when it was almost ready, its changing colors as Snape mixed it or added new ingredients, with delicate precision... All those things kept his senses busy, enough to stop him from thinking all the time about what had happened, so that he could process it little by little, in small doses.

But that oasis in Snape's rooms had not always been available. Or at least not as often as Harry would have liked. The Potions Master had had to attend to other responsibilities those last few weeks. In particular, from time to time, he had left Hogwarts to go check on his own house. Harry hadn't known Snape had one, or really, he'd never thought about it, but it made sense. Most professors didn't stay at school all the time, they had a house to go to during the holidays. Still, the revelation had surprised him, and the boy had wanted to know more about the place.

During the long hours of solitude in Grimmauld Place, his mind had wandered over the subject, trying to imagine if the house was big or small, where it was, if it was cozy like Snape's quarters in the Dungeons, if he would ever see it, if Professor had inherited it or bought it with his own money... Harry did not know how much the school paid, but the Potions Master dressed simply, always in the same style of dark robes, and did not wear jewelry or other expensive objects... It did not seem likely that he had bought a house with his salary. Judging by the furniture in his Hogwarts rooms, all the money, time, thoroughness, and attention to detail, had gone into that home in the depths of the castle. And Snape didn't seem like the kind of person who would put all that effort into his quarters and then buy a house to live alone, in the middle of a strange city, with no reason behind it. No, Harry decided, that place was probably a safe house for the Order, as Grimmauld Place had been. Or, if not, he deduced, remembering the glimpses of a gloomy room he had seen in the man's memories, it must have been his family home. Would it still look like that? Even after all these years? He had no way of knowing, and he doubted Snape would appreciate his questioning. The man was still a private person, and some subjects were more sensitive than others. But Harry wanted to know more about him. About his life, his past and, yes, even about that mysterious house he went to visit from time to time. Snape was such an enigma that he would cherish every bit of information he could get his hands on.

When the Potions Master had returned from that place, however, all he had told him about it was that it was still there, that the house had not collapsed during the last year. And, even more importantly, that he had not found any hex, spell or trap left by the Death Eaters to take revenge on him.

Those words had worried Harry because, if the Death Eaters knew of its existence, that could only mean two things. One, it was not an Order safe house, but Snape's own place, the location of which the man had shared with his former companions. And, two, if that was the case... If any Death Eater knew where it was and could show up on his doorstep to exact revenge for Voldemort's defeat... where was Snape supposed to go when he left Hogwarts? Harry didn't know if the man would want to stay at the school, teaching. But, if he was no longer going to be a professor... could he stay at the castle anyway? The boy wasn't sure, but the thought of Snape not having a place to go made him sad. At least Harry had Grimmauld Place, a house that was old and dark at times, but safe and his, after all.

Looking at the dusty furniture in his room, the boy wondered what Snape's reaction would be like if he offered him to come live in there with Harry. The house was large, and there was plenty of room for a dozen people. But he knew, without having to ask, that the Potions Master would hate that proposal. Grimmauld Place was Sirius's home. And, as much as their relationship had changed, and as much as Snape accepted Harry's presence in his Hogwarts rooms, spending every second of the day under the same roof was a different thing. Besides, there was also the matter of the boy's own feelings about it. He wasn't sure he wanted Snape to live with him. He knew that, in the future, he would like to share his home with someone else. His friends, especially Ron and Hermione. Or Ginny, most of all, if she wanted it too. But they were still very young, almost teenagers. And he was sure that, at the moment, Ginny and Ron wouldn't want to leave the safety and comfort of the Burrow, specially after the loss of Fred. And Hermione would need to spend time with her parents, feel part of a family again.

Harry sighed, sitting up from the bed. He knew the problem was that he didn't have parents, or siblings, and he couldn't ask his friends to give up part of their youth for him. But, then... If he wasn't going to live with them... The image of Snape in his pajamas, walking down the corridor in slippers, a steaming mug in his hands, popped into his mind and Harry shook his head, pushing it away. A part of him longed for that, but another felt a deep discomfort at the idea. Snape was not the sort of person one would call domestic or homely, and even if he was, he had been his teacher for years. Not his godfather, or a close family friend, like Sirius and Remus. There were certain distances, barriers, that were maintained with one's teachers, and sharing a home was one of them. Harry would never consider living with Professor McGonagall, no matter how much he liked her. But, if he thought about it, the feelings Snape had provoked in him had always been more intense than the warmth, appreciation or indifference one felt towards a teacher. Distrust, anger, animosity, even hatred, had been the predominant emotions for seven years. And there was also that history between them that went back a long time, to when Harry had not even been born. That web that bound them together in a strange way, formed by the past that Snape shared with James and Lily, and the role the former Death Eater had played in their murder, the debt he had felt towards Harry since then, the number of times he had saved and protected him... And, finally, joining all that, there was that new relationship they had built, those positive feelings that neither had expected, that understanding between them, that need to be part of each other's lives, the fruit of everything lived, of everything lost... No, Harry reflected, Snape could never be just his former teacher. Though, being honest with himself, living in a house with the man was perhaps a bit too much.

Aware that there was no point in continuing to worry about that subject at the moment, Harry shook his head once more, pushing it to the back of his mind. That sudden movement caused drops of already cold sweat to run down his forehead. The room had also cooled down since he had awoken from his nightmare, minutes before, and Harry took a deep breath, grateful for the change in temperature. Deciding that he wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore, and feeling his skin clammy, the boy pushed himself out of bed. He put on the slippers he had left next to him the night before, and then walked across the green carpet along the hallway to the bathroom. Once there, he showered, making the remnants of sweat disappear and, with them, the last memories of his nightmare. After dressing in comfortable clothes, the boy went down to the kitchen to have breakfast.

Once he entered, he saw that Kreacher was there, sitting on the counter. After bidding him good morning, Harry prepared something light to eat and began to chew absently, while the elf prattled on about the new clothes he had sewn himself and others he had bought. Harry let him speak, only half listening, though he smiled at his enthusiasm. He had decided to free Kreacher after the Battle, but, unlike Dobby, the elf showed a great interest in the clothing that for years he had been unable to wear and, since then, almost every day he wore a new outfit.

The elves had rallied after the Battle, and perhaps it had been the part they had played in it, wounding and even killing some Death Eaters, or Hermione's work with S.P.E.W., or perhaps, all those years suffering the cruelty of wizards, had finally been too much, but more and more of them wanted to be free, and Harry was glad for that. Besides, after the whole locket situation, after his relationship with Kreacher had improved, the boy didn't think he was going to be a threat to him anymore. And, honestly, it disgusted him to own a slave. He didn't want or need one. So, without a second thought, he had freed him as soon as he had the chance. However, aware of the situation of elves in the magical world, he had offered Kreacher the possibility to stay at Grimmauld Place if he so wished. The house had always been his home, and he did not want to leave him on the street, in the middle of a world that still did not accept him. Besides, the elf had offered to help him keep the house tidy and clean, something Harry was grateful for and for which he would pay him fairly. He just needed to go get the money that was waiting for him in his Gringotts vault.

Since the Battle, the boy had survived on Hogwarts food and the generosity of the Weasleys, but he knew he couldn't feed himself for the rest of his days on Molly's prepared dishes, or the few provisions left in his fridge. Harry had used the last coins that remained in Hermione's beaded purse to refill it, but, sooner or later he would have to head to the wizarding bank and, to his anxiety, face the consequences of his actions. The boy had been putting off that trip to Diagon Alley for several days now. In addition to the stares and comments that the presence of the savior of the magical world would generate, Harry was worried about how he would be received at Gringotts. The last time he had been there, he and his friends had passed through security measures, infiltrated a chamber that was not theirs and stolen an object, as well as unleashing a dragon and causing real damage to the bank's cavernous structure. Kingsley had told him that his actions had been pardoned and the charges against him dropped. But that adventure had unleashed the fury of Voldemort, who ended up killing dozens of goblins for it and Harry didn't think they had forgotten. He knew he wasn't responsible for the Dark Lord's actions and that destroying the Horcrux had been necessary, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty. Yet another thing to add to the list.

Trying not to think about it too much, but making a mental note to remind himself, or rather, force himself, to go there soon, Harry got up from the kitchen table. After saying goodbye to Kreacher, he brushed his teeth and then, ready to leave, headed for the living room. Once there, he looked at the fireplace, and the bowl filled with green powder next to it. He still felt that warmth in his chest at the thought of what it meant. The fact that Snape had decided to connect his rooms with Grimmauld Place, via the floo network.

"It's a waste of time that you have to Apparate out of Hogwarts and then walk here every time you come." The professor had told him, seeing Harry's surprised expression. "Don't make that face. I'm not giving you carte blanche to annoy me whenever you want, Potter. On the contrary. You won't be able to go through if I don't allow you to. I will receive a signal and then, only if I have agreed to it, the barrier will rise. But, if you're going to spend so much time here, then it's more efficient to use the floo network. Is that clear?"

Harry had nodded, trying to hide the stupid grin that threatened to escape his lips, and since then, going to Hogwarts had been easier than ever. The first few times it had felt a strange to travel through the flames. But, by now, he had gotten used to that mode of transportation and it had become part of his routine. Approaching the fireplace, Harry grabbed some floo powder in his hand and then said in a loud, clear voice:

"Severus Snape's chambers, Hogwarts dungeons."

Harry opened his hand and the powder fell into the fireplace, creating a green fire that didn't burn. Then he took a step forward, moving into the flames, and felt the familiar tug in his chest. That meant the network was connected and open. The boy took another step and Grimmauld Place disappeared behind him. The fire danced before his eyes, green, yellow and white, blinding him for a few moments. Finally, everything stopped, and Harry found himself in a fireplace he knew all too well. Shaking the remnants of dust from his clothes, he stepped out of it, walking straight into Severus Snape's living room.

The Potions Master was waiting for him, sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug and a half-eaten piece of toast in front of him.

"Good morning, Potter."

"Good morning, sir."

"You're earlier than usual, today." He said, watching him closely.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep anymore."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask him about it, which Harry was grateful for.

"Have you had breakfast?" He said, instead.

"Yes, sir. In Grimmauld Place, with Kreacher."

Snape nodded slowly.

"Good. Since it will take me a few minutes to finish here, why don't you go ahead and start chopping up today's ingredients? A rather urgent order from St. Mungo's has arrived, so we've got a lot of work to do."

Harry nodded, a small smile in his face. It filled him with pride to know that Snape trusted him enough to leave him alone in his precious lab.

"I left the instructions on how each ingredient is to be cut written on the board." The professor told him, as Harry headed for the door. "Though I doubt you forgot."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, I haven't forgotten."

"Good. Let's hope so." Snape said. Then he focused his attention back to his toast, taking a bite, and Harry took that as a goodbye. He turned around and headed towards the lab, leaving the Potions Master to his breakfast.

After entering the room, a spiced smell greeted him, filling his nose. The boy followed it to a cauldron where an orange potion was gently bubbling. He kept his distance, however, and didn't get too close. Snape had told him a thousand times that a stray hair, a piece of fingernail, or even a breath at the wrong time could ruin a potion completely. So Harry turned his back to the cauldron and walked to his table. The ingredients that he had to chop that day where waiting for him there, as well as the instructions on the board, just as Snape had said. The boy bent down to pick up a clean thin pair of gloves and, after putting them on, began to work.

Seconds tickled by, slowly turning into minutes. As his hands moved automatically, following the now familiar patterns, Harry's mind began to wander. The trip to Diagon Alley was still present in his head, making him anxious, and his thoughts inevitably kept coming back to it. He started thinking about everything that he would have to do once he was there, and he made a mental list of it. He didn't want to forget anything and have to come back again so soon.

What do I need? The boy asked himself, biting his lip in concentration. I've grown a lot in the last few months… Do I have to buy another cloak? Other robes? Or can I hold out with these a little longer? … I've finished reading almost all the books I borrowed from the library and from Hermione. Maybe I should buy some more? What subject? Defense? Herbology? Potions? … I wonder if Snape would let me buy a new knife to cut the ingredients. This one looks older than Hogwarts... I want to send a letter to Andromeda, to see how she and Teddy are doing. Should I buy another owl?

And then, suddenly, his mind took him down a path he never would have wanted to take.

Another owl? To replace Hedwig? Hedwig. My friend. My faithful companion. My dead owl. The one Hagrid gave me when I turned eleven. Do you remember her, Harry? Remember how she died? How the green light of the Avada Kedavra hit her? Remember how still she got?

Harry's heart raced, as memories flooded his mind. He shook his head, trying to push them away from him, but the thoughts kept coming, like a waterfall. And suddenly, Hedwig's death brought him to a new moment he would have preferred to forget, and then another, threading together all the traumatic events he had experienced, creating a web of images and emotions that kept him trapped, standing in the middle of the lab, his hands still moving automatically. His brain was forcing him to relive those instants, without him being able to stop it, they were dancing in front of his eyes, one after the other. Sirius, disappearing behind the veil. His father, lying on the floor, glasses sideways on his face, so still he couldn't be sleeping. His mother screaming, before she died. The cold of the Dementors. The weight of Cedric's body as he fell to the ground. The horror of knowing that Mad-Eye was dead. The chaos and fear of that last year. The strong, deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt saying, "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming." All those months, running from Voldemort, hiding in the forest. Feeling Ron getting farther and farther away from him. The anger, the sadness, the despair. How small he had felt, with the weight Dumbledore had put on his shoulders...

The thoughts kept coming, as Harry's gaze remained on the wooden board, not seeing the half-cut roots on it, nor the knife he held in his right hand. Instead, he could clearly see Batilda Bagshot's body buckling and splitting open at the same time, as a monstrous snake emerged from it, and the sheer terror of thinking that Voldemort might appear at any moment. Then the memory twisted, and suddenly he was drowning in an icy lake, with the locket choking him, scarring his neck, preventing him from breathing. Harry blinked, trying to get some oxygen, his heart pounding. He knew it wasn't real. It had already happened. But Hermione's screams echoed in his ears, as Bellatrix tortured her, and Ron joined in, his own shrieks making the sound even more horrible somehow. And then, the image changed again, as Dobby's small body began to fill with a dark red, his breathing getting fainter every second. Harry swallowed, realizing how dry his throat was. Where was the heat coming from? His arms were burning, his wrists, his palms, his fingers. He shook his hands, trying to quench that fire and felt something slip from them, though he barely noticed. He couldn't, not when his neck and face were filling with blisters, created by that fake gold. And suddenly he was in the Gringotts vault, feeling that anguish and fear again, thinking that the jewels and coins that continued to replicate would burn and bury him alive. It's not real. He said to himself. I'm at Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, safe. And, yes, it was true that he was in the castle, but that did not bring him relief. Looking around, he could see the Battle in front of him, the flashes of spells and curses, the explosions, the screams of the wounded... He blinked, trying to make them go away, but he only managed to see Fred's lifeless body, lying on the stone floor, and then Tonks', Remus'...

Harry shook his head, trying to fight that unbearable pain in his chest, and though the scene changed, it wasn't for the better. He was in the Shrieking Shack, and Snape was lying in front of him, bleeding, crying, dying, and Harry hated him, but not anymore, not anymore, but he couldn't help him. And his eyes were on his, pleading for something he couldn't understand, and soon they would freeze, and Snape's life would disappear from them. Harry could see the fear in his gaze, and he knew it would happen now, right now, and he would lose him forever, as he had lost everyone else. But Snape's eyes were still fixed on his, black on green, and that glint that indicated life was still present in them and it was becoming sharper, more real. Suddenly, Harry felt strong hands grasping his arms and, for a second, he thought it was the Inferi that had come to drown him, to drag him into those black waters, to hold him forever at the bottom of the cave. But Dumbledore had burned them, he had saved him, he remembered with confusion. And Harry was not in a cold, wet dark hole in the middle of the sea, but in Snape's laboratory, with the man standing in front of him, calling his name, holding his shoulders firmly, but gently at the same time.

"Sir?" Harry's vision began to focus, forming Snape's worried face right before him.

"Potter." The man breathed, relief evident on his features. "Thank Merlin."

"What... what happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. But first, come here. Sit down."

Snape moved him gently and Harry followed. The teacher sat him down in a chair and the boy remained there, confused and dizzy, trying to understand what had just happened. He was vaguely aware of Snape moving in front of him, searching inside an open cupboard. After a few seconds, the man turned around and placed something in front of his nose.

"Drink." He said, thrusting a full flask into his hands.

Harry did as he told him, clutching the potion, still lightheaded, and then swallowed with difficulty, feeling the stiffness of his neck muscles. After a few moments, his heart rate slowed down and breathing became easier.

"I'm... I'm better." Said the boy, after a few seconds. "Calmer."

"Obviously, Potter." Snape sighed, though without malice. "That's the purpose of a Calming Draught."

Harry looked at the glass bottle in his hands, now empty, and let out a gasp of surprise.

"Yes." Snape told him. "I was wondering when you were going to notice."

Blood had stained Harry's fingers and palms, coming from an ugly gash on his left hand. He must have pulled off his gloves in the middle of that whirlwind of memories, and then accidentally cut himself with the sharp knife.

Snape walked over to him and, without a word, picked up the vial gently and then set it down on a table, while Harry continued to look at his wound. The cut had started to hurt now that he had seen it. His eyes roamed over it, trying to estimate its depth and whether he would need stitches to close the skin. In the midst of those thoughts, Snape reappeared in his field of vision, carrying a stool with him. He placed it in front of Harry, sat down, and then extended a hand in his direction.

"Show me." He ordered.

Harry looked at him for a few seconds, without understanding. Then he saw the small brown bottle Snape held in his other hand, filled with a substance he recognized immediately, as he and his friends had used it more times than he would have liked in the last year.

"Essence of Dittany." He whispered, remembering how Hermione had fixed Ron after he got splinched, and how the three of them had healed their burns after the escape from Gringotts.

Snape looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"That's right." He said, though he didn't add anything else. Tired of waiting for Harry to do as he had told him, he grabbed his left wrist, albeit gently, and pulled the boy's hand towards him. Then, softly and precisely, he poured a couple of drops over the cut. The boy hissed as the liquid touched his wound, causing a greenish smoke to rise from it, but he stayed as still as he could. He watched in fascination as his skin closed and began to heal, leaving only a scar where before there had been a gash. Once the pain and surprise had subsided, Harry turned his attention to Snape. He looked into his face, trying to understand his mood and decipher if he was angry with him. But the man remained silent and, after checking that the cut had healed satisfactorily, he got up from the stool and went to the cupboard to put the essence of Dittany away.

"Sir?" Asked Harry, after the silence had gone on too long.

Snape sighed, with his back on him, resting his hands on the dark doors of the cupboard he had just closed. Then he turned and sat back down across from Harry, a strange gleam in his eye.

"Well, are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked, piercing him with those black eyes. "Or am I to assume that you lost your mind or were possessed by some kind of demon?"

"I..."

"You were just sitting there, at the desk, with your hand bleeding and staring into nothingness. I called your name several times, Potter, but you wouldn't react. It was as if you couldn't hear me." Snape's voice had been getting louder with each word. The man must have noticed because he let out a long sigh and asked, in a softer tone, "What happened, Potter?"

Harry looked down, absently running a finger over the newly formed scar, trying to gather his thoughts before answering.

"I... I didn't do it on purpose." He said, swallowing hard. "Cutting myself, I mean. I just... I was preparing the ingredients and then I… I…" He hesitated.

"Go on." Snape told him.

Harry took a deep breath.

"I started thinking about unimportant things, normal things, really. But suddenly, my brain led me to... to a bad memory."

Snape looked him in the eye.

"To a bad memory." He repeated.

"Yes..." Harry muttered. "And it's not like I wanted to think about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it was like I couldn't stop doing it. And then, my mind kept sending me more horrible memories. One after another. Of things that have happened this past year, mostly, but before that too, and I... I couldn't escape them. And I couldn't stop thinking about them." He added, his voice shaking despite the potion. "It was like I was there once more, living those moments all over again."

"Has anything like that ever happened to you before?" Snape's voice was neutral, trying to sound professional, like a doctor asking questions of his patient, but the boy could detect a hint of concern in it.

"Yes." Harry confessed. "But never this intensely. It usually happens when I'm alone, doing something mechanical. Like when I'm cleaning the dishes or taking a walk. It's like my mind switches off from what I'm doing and starts moving. And I don't know why, but it always comes back to the same themes. To loss, to death... Things like that." Harry shook his head. "I don't know how to stop it. But I don't like it."

"I'd worry if you did, Potter." Snape said, with less sarcasm than usual.

"Sir, is... is this normal?" The boy asked suddenly, quietly, surprising himself. He hadn't meant to say it, but now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself, and the words gushed out of his mouth. "I don't understand... What's happening to me, am I losing my mind? I..."

Snape held up a hand.

"Potter, breathe. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening to you." He assured him, seriousness on his face. "In fact, it's perfectly natural. Perhaps not to the level it's reached today... But when someone experiences a traumatic event, for a while the brain keeps bringing it to the surface. Especially at times when we switch off and relax, letting the mind wander... It's the body's way of trying to make sense of it, of trying to fix it or find a solution to that thing that hurts so much." Snape grimaced, as if he could feel that pain he was talking about. "Though, of course, in most cases there is nothing to be done; the person who has passed away is gone, or the terrifying situation has already happened. But I want you to know this, Potter." He tilted his head to look Harry straight in the eye. "It will pass. It may not seem like it, right now... But, slowly, over time, these memories... These episodes... They will become less and less frequent."

"How do you know?" The boy asked, lowering his gaze. It frightened him that it could keep happening forever.

"Because it did for me."

"Oh."

Snape didn't add anything else, but it was enough. Enough to keep Harry's worry at bay, at least for the moment.

Then, once his anxiety had subsided somewhat, the boy seemed to realize how close he was to Snape. The Potions Master was facing him, sitting on his stool, and their knees were almost touching. That made Harry uncomfortable, the thought that he was invading the professor's personal space, something he knew Snape hated. Avoiding those dark eyes, he swept his gaze around the rest of the lab, and what he saw on the wooden board made his stomach twitch.

"Oh, no..." He muttered, his eyes widening in surprise and fear. "The ingredients, sir... The... The roots. I made a mess, I..."

"Potter."

"And St. Mungo's." He added, his voice shaking slightly, remembering Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's punishments when he didn't do things the way they wanted. "The potions, they need them urgently and they're waiting and-"

"Potter." Snape put a hand on his shoulder, causing Harry to look at him with fear in his eyes. "We're not in the middle of a class. I'm not going to give you a zero or detention because you smashed a couple of Mandrake roots. Not to mention...It wasn't your fault. It didn't happen because of lack of attention or effort."

"But..."

"Besides," Snape cut him off, "I always start brewing potions with plenty of time to spare, in case something goes wrong. So don't worry about the urgency. And, even if another unforeseen event were to happen, it wouldn't be the first time I've stayed up all night to finish a batch. Understood?"

Harry didn't look very convinced but nodded slightly.

"Just forget about the potions, Potter." Snape added, noticing his expression. "That's not important right now."

"No?"

"No." Snape said, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

The boy looked at him blankly, confusion clear on his face.

"You, Potter." Sighed the professor. "After what has happened... I know I've given you the Calming Draught, but still... How are you feeling?"

Harry stirred in his chair, with a mixture of discomfort and satisfaction at seeing that Snape cared about him.

"I'm... I'm fine." He said finally. "Really. I mean, it's been a shit... uh, a bad morning." He corrected himself, seeing the man's expression. "But I'm feeling better."

Snape continued to look at him, still not quite believing his words.

"It's true. Really. I'm here; fully present now." Harry said with a small smile, trying to show reassurance. "My hand doesn't hurt and I'm ready to get back to cutting those roots."

"Maybe we should take a rain check, Potter. Go home and get some rest. I can manage on my own. I've been cutting my own ingredients for over twenty years."

Harry ducked his head. He was about to nod, sad to think that Snape didn't want him there, after the mess he'd made, when the man spoke again.

"I mean, if you want to stay here and continue with your work it's not a problem. But I would understand if you decide to go back to Grimmauld Place."

"No." Harry said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean, if it's not a problem, sir, I'd like to stay and do better this time."

Snape watched him for a few seconds, weighing his words, but finally nodded.

"All right, Potter. But if you feel anything like that happening again, let me know."

The boy nodded, though he doubted it. With Snape there, watching him as he knew he would, it would be much harder for his mind to start wandering.

"Yes, sir." He said anyway.

"Good." Snape repeated, ending the conversation. He then stood up and turned to Harry's table, which was full of mandrake roots. He separated the ones that were clean and neatly cut from the blood-stained ones, and others that the boy had chopped up in the middle of his trance, breaking them. Then he waved his wand and whispered:

"Evanesco."

The mangled and dirty roots disappeared in an instant and then Snape turned again to look at him.

"That reminds me..." He walked over to the boy, sat down again, and clasped his hands in his own. Then he repeated the same incantation as before, removing the dried blood from the skin. Harry watched it disappear, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his anxiety. "Good." Snape said when he was done. "Now, is there anything else, or are you ready to get back to work?"

Harry bit his lip, looking at the wooden board and the tiny handful of neatly cut roots left on it.

"I'm... sorry about the ingredients, sir." He told him. "I'll pay for them, I promise."

Snape's lips twisted in amusement, though he tried to hide his smile.

"Oh." He said, with his typical curved eyebrow. "Do you by any chance always carry a bag full of Galleons with you? Or did you bring it on purpose, just in case you messed up any ingredients? Do you have so little faith in your abilities, Potter?

Harry's cheeks reddened.

"No... Actually, I don't have any money on me right now. But I'm going to Diagon Alley this week. To Gringotts." He said, and suddenly an idea popped into his brain. "Maybe you could come with me! If... If you want to, of course, sir. We can go to the apothecary, and you can tell me what ingredients to buy. I don't want to screw up and get the wrong kind. And I could also buy me some nice, sturdy gloves," He looked at the floor next to the table and saw the ones he had used laying there, where they had fallen, "to protect my hands from any more accidents... And, and maybe a new cauldron so I can practice in it and..."

"Potter." Snape had let him speak for a while, but now he had held up a hand, stopping him. "While I appreciate your offer, you needn't worry. I can buy more ingredients with my own money. These things happen, and when I brew a lot of potions, I always keep in mind that some materials, or even some vials, will have to be thrown away or they will break."

"But..."

"Having said that..." He added, seeing that Harry wanted to interrupt. "My inventory stocks are lower than I'd like. Before the war, some apothecaries would ship ingredients directly to your house or, in this case, the school, but nowadays... things are more complicated. Even without the Dark Lord, it will take some time to get back to normal. So... I will also have to go to Diagon Alley, unfortunately. Sooner than I would like, in fact." He sighed. "And, I suppose... We could go together, like you said."

"Really?" The wide grin that appeared on Harry's face, a mixture of happiness and surprise, was so bright that Snape couldn't stop his own lips from curling up.

"Yes, really, Potter. Although... there is one condition."

The smile froze on Harry's lips.

"A condition?"

"Yes." Snape said, drilling him with his gaze. "I want to know where this sudden interest in Potions comes from. I know you told me that you felt out of practice, but after so many days of chopping ingredients and watching me brew, it should be enough by now. Yet you still come here almost every morning, why is that, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, avoiding his gaze. They had established at Remus and Tonks' funeral that they both wanted to be a part of each other's lives, but saying it out loud again, without the emotions of that day, nor the Fire whiskey to help, would be difficult and awkward. Therefore, the boy sought a less intense and vulnerable response, albeit one based in truth.

"I don't know..." He began, quietly. "Being here, with the potions and everything, relaxes me. I like coming to Hogwarts and... and talking to you. And the lab is a halfway point between Grimmauld Place, where it's too quiet, and the Burrow where it's actually the opposite... Besides, coming here almost every day has become some kind of routine and, after everything that's happened, I feel like I need something constant in my life. At least for these first months."

Snape watched him for a few seconds, his dark eyes studying his face.

"I understand. Though I'm surprised that it is precisely potion making what helps you relax. Considering your history with the subject..."

Harry narrowed his eyes, offended.

"I wasn't always bad at it. Only for the first five years. In sixth, under Slughorn, I was top of the class. Even ahead of Hermione." Snape raised an eyebrow, causing Harry to add, "Uh... No offense, sir."

The man's eyes gleamed, with a mixture of wounded pride and humor.

"None taken, Potter. As I recall, that little miracle was not caused by Slughorn's teaching abilities. You were using my book. So it was more my doing than his."

"When you put it like that…" Harry muttered, not knowing how to reply. "Though it's precisely because of my improvement in sixth year that I want to practice and learn more about potions. Besides, I've seen how useful they can be, especially these past few months." The boy's eyes lowered to the newly formed scar on his left hand. "And, considering I haven't been here for my seventh year, I don't want to miss out on important knowledge. Not just Potions, but all subjects, really. Well... maybe History of Magic or Divination not so much. But I don't think it's smart to have gaps in basic concepts that could one day save my life."

"Ah, yes." Snape replied. "Your dream of becoming an Auror. I had forgotten."

Harry didn't like the sarcasm in his voice, but perhaps because he wasn't as sure as he used to be about what he wanted to do with his future.

"Not just because of that." He said, shaking his head. "Maybe I'll change my mind and end up working as something else... What I mean is that we don't know what tomorrow will bring. And there may be peace and quiet forever." Harry's face clearly indicated how much he doubted it. "But, perhaps, a new Dark Lord will appear in a few years and..."

"Don't jinx it, Potter." Snape told him, his expression grim.

"Whatever the case," Harry continued, "I want to be prepared. And, if afterwards, I just end up using this knowledge in my work or day to day life, all the better. But it will be stuff I'll already know and won't have to learn in the future."

Snape watched him, studying his face silently for a few seconds.

"It sounds like a reasonable idea." He said finally. Then he straightened up on the stool and added, "All right, Potter. I have an offer for you. A sort of... job promotion, you might call it."

Harry frowned, confusion in his eyes.

"Sir?"

"These days, setting aside what happened today, you've been working adequately. Therefore, I thought... Given your interest in Potions, and the effort and constancy that, surprisingly, after so many years, you seem to now possess... Perhaps we could move forward and start doing more interesting things."

"You mean...?" Muttered Harry, not quite believing it. "That you'd let me brew potions here, in your lab?"

"Don't get too excited, Potter. First of all, you'll be supervised at all times. I don't want you blowing up my quarters. And, secondly, we will start with the basics, with potions that are taught in first year. It is essential to establish sturdy pillars to build upon. And, considering your past performances, yours are pretty shaky as of now. But, little by little, if you show me that you are capable, we will increase the difficulty. So... What do you say?" The serious, solemn Snape who had been speaking in his professor's voice, soft and deliberately slow, disappeared as he asked that question. "Potions tutoring?" Harry could see the corners of his lips twitch slightly, forming a small smile, so unusual in him. "For real this time?"

The boy's heart fluttered wildly and, for an instant, he remembered the fateful Occlumency lessons he had hidden as remedial potions from Snape. Back then, two years ago, having to spend more time than necessary with the man would have been a horrible thing for Harry. But things had changed, and quite a bit. Despite that, and the differences in their relationship, the boy still found hard to believe what Snape was actually offering him. The fact that he trusted him enough to teach him potions in his own lab, wasting his time, ingredients and energy. It was something he would have wanted but hadn't even thought it was an option.

Harry looked up, smiling back at his former -or future- professor, and realized that the bad memories that had drowned him minutes before were gone, hidden away in some corner of his mind, defeated by the joy he felt in that instant. Aware that Snape required an answer, the boy nodded, looking into those dark eyes that were no longer as empty as they used to be, and said:

"I would like that, sir."

Harry took a deep breath and turned his wrist, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time in the last two minutes. The seconds were ticking by slowly, as were the people walking in front of him along Diagon Alley, and the boy was starting to get nervous. He knew Snape was a punctual man, and so he had arrived at the agreed place with plenty of time to spare. Although, come to think of it, half an hour in advance had perhaps been too much. He didn't like being there, standing in front of the great white columns of Gringotts, where any passerby might recognize him. Luckily for him, for the moment, it hadn't happened.

The alley was less crowded than it used to be during the last days of summer, when countless children along with their parents came to buy robes, books, wands, cauldrons, and other things needed for school. And, although there were still quite a few people, they did not stop to stare in amazement at the shop windows or gather in groups to chat amicably in the middle of the street. Instead, they walked briskly, entering the few stores they needed something from and, once they had obtained what they had come for, they disappeared with a snap. It was evident that things were still not back to normal, even if the War was over. There was still apprehension among the common people, especially those who had not been at Hogwarts during the battle and had not seen the end of Voldemort. They were afraid that he had not been defeated for good, that his Death Eaters could appear at any moment and attack them, especially in a place like that which had been hit hard during the War. Harry could see the aftermath of those attacks without searching too much. The scorch marks and explosions were still there, on the ground and on the walls of the buildings. And, although most businesses had been repaired once the merchants had returned to Diagon Alley, there were still abandoned stores, where broken glass and pieces of wood were piled up. The fact that no one had yet returned to fix them gave a faint idea of what had happened to their owners.

Trying not to think about it, Harry consulted his watch again. It had been fifteen minutes since his arrival in Diagon Alley. That meant that there were only fifteen minutes more before nine o'clock in the morning, the time agreed upon with Snape. As he moved his head to look around for the Potions teacher, a lock of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Harry caught it between his fingers and tucked it behind his ear. It was long again, though not as much as it had been when he, Ron and Hermione had lived in the forest, during last year. And, although it was getting to a point that Mrs. Weasley would consider inappropriate, too much like her son Bill's, Harry liked it that way. It helped hide his scar and his face, which was perhaps one of the reasons no one had recognized him yet.

The long hair, along with the slight stubble that had begun to appear on his cheeks, had transformed his appearance. Gone was the boy who had first set foot in the magical world seven years ago. When he had noticed that change in himself, looking in the mirror of his bathroom at Grimmauld Place, a smile had spread across his face. Despite still feeling like a child in some ways, the prospect of growing up, of being able to grow old without Voldemort's shadow over him, was comforting. With a small smile, he remembered that, thankfully, Ginny had also approved of that new look. The appreciative comments the girl had made came back to his mind, along with that amused gleam in her brown eyes as she stroked his cheek, telling him he should shave soon.

Harry sighed, turning his wrist to look at the time once more, the affection for Ginny calming some of the nerves caused by the wait. Ten minutes to nine, Snape must be almost there. Thinking of the Potions Master caused a new memory to pop into his mind. The man had also had something to say about the length of his hair, as if his own wasn't even longer than Harry's.

"I don't want a single lock of it to end up inside the potion, Potter, do you understand me?" He had said suddenly one morning. "If it happens, I'll cast a balding hex on you. And only I know the counter spell, so don't tempt me."

The glint of humor in the professor's eyes was mixed with a touch of seriousness, and from that day onwards, Harry had decided not to push his luck. Whenever he brewed a potion under Snape's watchful eye, which happened several times a week now that he was tutoring him, Harry would pull his hair back to avoid contaminating it.

Since then, even Snape himself had followed his example, pinning his greasy dark hair up in a small bun. From the way he had done it, effortlessly and quickly, and from how worn-out the hair tie had been, it was clear that this was not the first time he pulled his hair up. It made sense, if one stopped to think about it, but that revelation had surprised Harry and for a second, he had almost let out a laugh. Luckily for him, he had restrained himself in time, preventing Snape from noticing his reaction. Later, lying on his bed in Grimmauld Place, thinking about what had happened that day, Harry was glad he had controlled himself. Although the man would never say it out loud, he knew Snape had self-esteem issues about his body. Maybe it had started when he was a child, being a skinny, ugly boy, forced to wear second-hand clothes much bigger than he was, or perhaps, it was his greasy hair, his yellow teeth, or his bat-like posture... But Harry had seen the way Snape dressed and moved, hiding himself from neck to toe with those black robes, and controlling every posture, with deliberate and previously studied gestures, with precise and meticulous movements, as if he wanted to be sure that everything was done in a perfect way, that he was not going to make a fool of himself. Some time ago, perhaps he would have thought that this behavior was a consequence of the professor's surly character, of his strange and sarcastic personality, but now Harry saw the signs and understood them. If Snape hadn't pulled his hair back during normal classes, preparing potions in front of the students, and had only done so once in his personal laboratory, away from the gaze of the others, it was for a reason. It might seem silly to some, but after having lived a childhood being the center of cruel comments and laughter, Harry understood. And he wasn't going to make Snape regret letting his guard down in front of him.

Deep in thought, the boy was unaware of a dark figure that had been moving closer and closer towards him, until he was only a few feet away from where he stood. Suddenly, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Harry turned around, his right hand instinctively reaching for his wand. Luckily for him, it was Snape standing there, dressed in his usual black robes, raising a hand in greeting.

"Potter."

"Sir." Harry said, dropping his wand back into his trouser pocket. "Sorry I hadn't seen you."

"Clearly. Are you sure those glasses are the right ones for you, Potter? How long has it been since you've had your eyesight checked?" He asked. "Perhaps it would be wise to go and have them looked at. We wouldn't want the savior of the magical world to trip over something and crack his head open, eh?"

"The glasses are fine, thanks for worrying." Replied Harry, by now used to his professor's comments. "I was simply distracted."

Snape looked at him for a second too long.

"Distracted? Why?"

Harry shrugged. There were several reasons, but he wasn't going to explain them right there, in the middle of the alley.

"Don't tell me you're worried about going back to Gringotts, Potter." Snape said, with one of his sardonic little smiles. "I'm sure they've completely forgotten about what happened the last time you were here. About that little robbery you and your friends pulled off."

Looks like he woke up sarcastic today, Harry thought. More than usual. Maybe the boy wasn't the only one who was nervous about leaving the safety of Hogwarts and going out into the outside world. Well, if Snape was going to hide his nervousness under a facade of sarcasm, then Harry wasn't going to show him his own agitation.

Putting a determined expression on his face, he said:

"I'm sure, too. Shall we go, then, sir?" He gestured with one hand to the large bronze doors of Gringotts and was glad to see the surprise in Snape's eyes. He had probably hoped to have a longer conversation before entering, and thus be able to delay his confrontation with the goblins inside the building. Harry would have wished the same thing minutes earlier. However, now that they were both standing there, he preferred to get it over with as soon as possible.

Telling himself that everything would be fine, Harry took a deep breath as Snape walked past him, opening the doors of the bank and crossing them with a couple of long strides. After entering, he turned to check that Harry was following and then, with his usual impenetrable face, continued towards the counters at the back of the lobby.

A few people waiting in line there, forming a queue before the goblin seated at the desk, which caused Snape to sigh impatiently. But Harry couldn't have cared less about that; he was too busy trying to calm his heartbeat down. It had begun to pound when he had crossed the doorway and right now it was echoing in his ears so loudly that he wondered how it was possible that Snape couldn't hear it. But the professor was busy, standing next to him, staring at the customers in the queue in front of him, as if that would make them finish sooner. He was moving one foot against the floor, making a faint rhythmic sound, with clear annoyance on his face. Harry heard it and tried to concentrate on the noise, focusing his attention on the tapping, as the seconds ticked by and his stomach contracted unpleasantly. Suddenly, before he could stop it, a memory flashed into his mind. An explosion of green light, followed by another, and then another, appeared behind his pupils, as anger pulsed through his veins and the bodies of the goblins piled up on the ground. No, that wasn't me, that was Voldemort. The boy reminded himself. But a part of him couldn't help but feel responsible. He tried to push the feeling away, blinking hard, turning his gaze again to Snape's shoe, which was still tapping against the floor. Against those dark tiles that, he suddenly discovered, looked newer than the other ones. It was clear that they had been changed recently and Harry knew why straight away. He was sure that, where that new pattern of shiny black and green tiles now stood, weeks ago there had been a hole caused by the claws of a dragon. The dragon he and his friends had helped free, to be more specific. Harry was remembering how hard the beast's skin felt under his fingers and how he had held on with all his might to keep from falling, until his hands and arms ached, when Snape called out to him.

"Potter, it's our turn."

The boy raised his gaze, startled, his heart in his throat. The people in front of them were gone, and Snape stood beside him, watching his face expectantly. Forcing his feet to move, Harry walked the few steps that separated him from the counter. Before he could think too much about what would happen next, the goblin appeared in front of him, looking at them with boredom in his eyes.

"Next." He said, extending a hand in his direction.

"Good morning." Snape greeted him, without a hint of warmth despite the politeness in his words. "We wanted access to Mr. Harry Potter's chamber."

The expression on the goblin's face, which had been somewhat cold until then, turned icy and Harry could see the fury appear beneath his eyes.

"Mr. Harry Potter?" He repeated, withdrawing his open hand and baring a row of pointed teeth. "Harry Potter? The boy who, a month ago, using typical wizarding trickery, infiltrated this bank? The thief who managed to gain access to a chamber that wasn't his own and steal an object that didn't belong to him? Who released a dragon owned by Gringotts, destroyed part of the underground caverns and caused the death of a dozen employees? That Harry Potter?" He had been raising his voice as he spoke, causing the other goblins and wizards to turn around with curiosity and also some fear.

Harry swallowed, scared, and took a small step back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Snape move his hand subtly, bringing it closer to the pocket containing his wand.

"Mr. Potter has been cleared of all charges against him."

"Cleared by wizards." Replied the goblin. "Not by my people."

"By the Ministry, yes. But the goblins agreed." Snape corrected. "Kingsley Shacklebolt assured me that they had met with the bank's owners. And that your... people agreed that Mr. Potter's actions, while reckless and foolish, had been key to defeating the Dark lord. A Dark Lord who, if I recall correctly, was the one who murdered those dozen workers you mentioned earlier, not this boy."

The goblin squinted, studying Snape's impassive face, his posture seemingly relaxed, his hand a few inches from his wand... Perhaps the Potions Master's words had convinced him, or perhaps he thought it wasn't worth causing a scene in the middle of the hall, but, finally, still squinting distrustfully, the goblin opened his hand again.

"Wand." He said curtly.

Harry looked at Snape in surprise at that turn of events but he quickly handed over his wand, before the goblin could change his mind. He immediately felt vulnerable without it to protect himself and took a small step back to be closer to the Potions Master. Although the goblin had closed his mouth, hiding those sharp teeth, the boy did not trust him. He had learned that lesson from Griphook. His nervousness, however, subsided considerably as he watched the goblin summon another worker and hand him a small metal key.

"My colleague will lead you to your chamber." He said, handing the wand back to Harry, who felt much better sensing the wood under his fingers. "See to it that you do not enter any chamber other than your own, Mr. Potter, or release another dragon. We goblins do not forgive twice. And you won't like the consequences." And, with that, he turned to the person waiting behind Snape. "Next."

"Come on, Potter." The Potions Master muttered, giving him a slight push forward. Harry nodded and, between the two of them, they followed the new goblin in the direction of the carriages.

The next few minutes passed in silence as they descended into the depths of Gringotts and a strange euphoria came over the boy. It was a feeling of immense relief. Of lightness. As if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders. Although Kingsley had assured him that everything was going to be fine, he hadn't been completely sure. But now he felt calm, almost content. His actions had been forgiven, as long as he didn't steal anything else, of course, and he wasn't going to have to face the goblins and their thirst for revenge. And, to top it all off, the icing on the cake had been seeing Snape defending him like that. The man had stood up to the goblin, using that ice-cold, piercing stare he used set on Harry, and had even threaten to take out his wand in the middle of the bank, surrounded by other goblins. Feeling a spark of warmth in his chest, Harry closed his eyes, and, turning his face so that Snape, who was sitting next to him, wouldn't notice, his lips formed a satisfied smile.

As they rode up and down with the carriage, Harry's mind began to wander, transporting him back to a similar journey seven years earlier. To that first time he had been to the bank. To the sense of awe and fascination he had felt, riding in that same cart, with Hagrid sitting beside him. Harry glanced sideways at Snape and, with a spark of humor, thought that two people could not be more different from each other. Hagrid, huge, clumsy, kind, cheerful and welcoming. Snape, thin, elegant, cruel, cold and sarcastic. But, if he stopped to think about it, it wasn't as simple as that. Hagrid could also be brave and tough, like when he had gone to talk to the giants on Dumbledore's orders, in the middle of the war, and so many years dealing with all those dangerous and wild creatures were not for weak or frightened people. And, for Snape's part, the professor could also show a warmth that Harry would never have thought possible, as well as his own particular kindness. The images of Hagrid in his hut, having tea with him and his friends, and Snape in his chambers, doing the same with Harry, merged in his mind, side by side, and the boy couldn't help but smile.

As he reflected on those two men who were so different but had more in common than either would have imagined, the caves grew deeper and colder. Finally, the carriage stopped in front of a door that Harry recognized immediately.

"Chamber six hundred and eighty-seven." Proclaimed the goblin.

Harry descended from the cart and then turned to help Snape do the same. The professor looked at the open hand the boy held out and smirked.

"I'm older than you, Potter, but not that old. I think I can manage on my own, thank you."

Harry blushed and nodded, withdrawing his hand quickly. That gesture had been an automatic thing, like helping Mr. Weasley down the stairs to the attic at the Burrow, or when he passed the rag to Mrs. Weasley to dry the dinner dishes. It was something he hadn't even thought about, the result of a familiarity he had accidentally achieved with Snape. Hoping the Potions Master hadn't taken too much offense, Harry watched as the goblin inserted the key into the lock, opened the chamber his parents had left him, and stepped aside to let them in.

The gold of the coins reflected the fire of the lamp, causing the light to dance across the walls. Harry stared at the piles of money and suddenly tensed at the thought of what Snape was going to say. He gave the man a sideways glance, but the comment he expected did not come. The professor merely leaned against the doorway, watching him silently, his arms folded. Grateful for it, Harry bent down to pick up a handful of coins and stuff them into the bag he had brought with him. It was a gift from Hermione, in which the girl had put the same extension charm that was active in her little beaded purse. Feeling the weight of the galleons between his fingers, Harry was happier than ever for it. It would have been exhausting to walk down the alley dragging all that money.

Seconds passed in silence as the boy, still crouched in the middle of the chamber, stuffed the piles of galleons, sickles and knuts into the bag. Once he had taken enough to cover all the expenses he would have over the next few months, Harry finally stood up.

"Take more, Potter."

Snape's voice startled him, he had almost forgotten he was there. He turned to look at him, holding the bag in his hands.

"Don't worry, sir. I think I have enough."

Snape sighed, turning away from the door and stepping into the chamber. Coins crunched under his black shoes as he approached.

"Your parents left you all this for a reason, Potter." He began. "And, even though there's a lot of uncertainty right now regarding your future... You're going to have to support yourself no matter what you do. You'll need clothes, food, utensils... And you'll have to pay for all those things. So, do me a favor, stop trying to act humble and..." Snape uttered the next three words slowly and clearly. "Take. More. Money."

Harry looked at him in surprise for a few seconds, but, after recovering, he nodded and opened the bag again. When the Potions Master used that tone of voice, there was no possible reply. Besides, if he thought about it, he was right. So, he grabbed a couple more handfuls and then turned to Snape, hoping that that had left the man satisfied.

"More." He said, however.

Harry sighed. In his opinion he had taken enough money to last him for several years, but that voice did not admit arguing.

"Good." Snape said once Harry had put in another dozen galleons. "Now we can go."

The boy nodded, put the bag inside his robe, and then walked with Snape out of the chamber. Seeing that they had finished, the goblin took the lamp and hurried to close the door. As the key turned in the lock, causing a screeching sound, Harry watched the closed chamber with a strange sadness, thinking about what he was leaving inside. It was not the money, the coins, that provoked that feeling in him, but the fact that those metal circles, so cold and bright, were the only thing he had left of his parents. All their personal belongings had been destroyed by the explosion that took place that night in Godric's Hollow, and, after sixteen years, the few things that had survived were gone now. Stolen by some wizard who wanted to own something from the Potters or ruined because of exposure to the elements. Harry would have liked to hug his mother's coat, smell her perfume on it, put on his father's glasses, check if they both had the same eyesight, hold Lily and James's wands between his fingers, snuggle up in that bed where they had slept, feel protected under the covers... But the only thing he had of them, besides those coins deep under Gringotts, were the pictures that their old friends had sent to Hagrid during his first year. That, and half of the letter written by his mother that he had found in Grimmauld Place, the one that Snape had divided in two. Suddenly remembering what the professor had done, Harry raised his head, looking at him with a mixture of sadness, anger and longing. He wondered where that letter, that half of the photo, had ended up. However, as much as he wanted to know the answer, it was obvious that this was not the time, sitting in the cart that was moving at full speed, the shadows of the lamp dancing on the dark stone walls, with the goblin in front of him and Snape on Harry's side, still like a statue, with his long dark hair waving in the wind.

With his mind still deep in thought, focused on that object he had seen in Snape's memories, Harry didn't notice that they had left the cart, and that he had followed the Potions Master along the lobby, all the way to the outside of the bank. It wasn't until he felt the sunlight in his eyes and the air on his face, that the boy was finally aware of where they were.

"Wait a second..." He said, turning to Snape. "Sir, we are back in Diagon Alley."

"Once again, your powers of deduction amaze me, Potter." The man replied. "Indeed, we are here again."

Harry frowned and hurried after the Potions Master. Snape had started walking with his long strides, moving away from the main avenue into a side street parallel to it, where there were fewer people.

"But, sir," Harry insisted, "we haven't been to your chamber."

"Excuse me?"

"In Gringotts, I mean." Harry explained. "You forgot to take your money. Do you want us to go back?" He pointed at the beginning of the street, where there was the white side wall of the bank.

"No, Potter. Don't worry." Said Snape.

"But-"

"Before you insist," He added, "it's not that I've forgotten. I just don't keep my money inside Gringotts. And now, come. We have a lot of shops to visit."

But those words had piqued Harry's curiosity. The boy stopped in the middle of the street and asked:

"Really? Are there any other banks besides Gringotts?" It made sense of course, but he hadn't thought about it before.

"Yes, Potter, strange as it may seem, there is more than one bank in the whole country..."

Harry raised an eyebrow and, ignoring the sarcasm, said:

"And in which one do you keep your money?

"I don't." Said Snape dismissively.

"Really?" Harry's interest had only increased at the man's answer. "So where is it, then?"

"Hidden in a safe place." Replied the professor, starting to walk again, knowing that those words would capture the boy's attention and make him follow. Sure enough, Harry quickened his pace to walk next to Snape and asked:

"Safer than Gringotts?"

"More accessible." Snape corrected. "So, in case of emergency, I could escape without wasting time."

"Emergency?" The curiosity in the boy's face was obvious. "You mean in case Voldemort found out about you?"

When he heard those words, Snape stopped walking down the street. He instead took Harry by the arm and moved him to the side of the road, with annoyance in his face. Having a teenager behind him asking questions out loud and, even worse, saying the Dark Lord's name, was a sure way to get unnecessary attention. Using the entrance of an abandoned shop as cover, the Potions Master sighed, and then turned to Harry, who was still watching him with interest in his eyes, waiting for his answer.

"You need to be more discreet, Potter." He told him. But, knowing that they wouldn't be able to have a quiet walk unless he replied, he added: "And to answer your question… No, it wasn't for that. In that case I wouldn't have escaped, even if I could no longer act as a spy. As long as the Dark Lord was not defeated, my place would still be here."

Harry frowned, trying to make sense of those words.

"But then when...?" And then he understood. "Wait... were you going to run away after we won?"

Snape looked away, somewhat uncomfortably.

"It was an option, Potter. Even if I could show them my memories, there was a possibility that the members of the Order would not listen to me. That they might not believe that I had always been on their side. And, with you dead..." He closed his eyes for an instant as he said that word. "My purpose would have disappeared. It wouldn't make sense to stay in Britain."

"But..."

"I wasn't going to risk spending the rest of my days in Azkaban, Potter. Or worse, receive a Dementor's kiss."

Harry's face contracted at the image, and he pushed it away from his mind. He could begin to understand why Snape would want to leave Britain, but he didn't like to imagine him away from Hogwarts, from the Order, from everything he had known...

"But, sir, if you weren't going to stay here... Where were you planning to go?"

"Who knows?" Snape replied, shrugging slightly. "Albus always said that a bit of Sun would be good for me. So I had thought... the Mediterranean, maybe? Greece, Italy, Spain..." He listed those destinations with his fingers. "Or, perhaps, I could have gone to the other side of the world; to be even further away from the Aurors. South America, Asia, or some lost island in the middle of the Pacific… Any of these options would have been fine as a first step. But there's no point in talking about this, Potter." He added, shaking his head. "Things happened differently."

Despite that effort to put the subject to rest, Harry wasn't going to drop such an interesting topic.

"You said 'first step', sir." He reminded him. "What was the next part of the plan, then? To live the rest of your days lying on the beach, sunbathing?" Somehow, he didn't think that lifestyle suited the Snape he knew.

Those words caused the Potions Master to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Not exactly." He said. "While, after so many years, it is true that I would appreciate a couple of weeks of vacation... The truth is that it would become tedious and boring after a short time."

"Boring?"

"Yes..." Snape said. "I know that most people dream of retiring to such a place, to live their last years in the middle of the sand and the sea. But, to be honest, I think I would get tired of it quickly."

"And what would you do then, sir? With only cocktails, boat rides and spa sessions to spend your galleons on?" Harry asked with an amused smile. It was funny to imagine Snape in that situation.

The professor smiled back and said:

"Oh, I think sooner or later I would have thrown all my money into the sea and then finish things once and for all."

He had uttered those words with humor in his voice, but Harry could see the reality in them. He wasn't joking. The smile froze on his face.

"Sir?" He said, suddenly scared and worried. "Do you mean that-?"

"I didn't mean anything." Snape cut him off. "I was exaggerating, Potter."

But Harry had seen the truth in his eyes.

"No, you weren't."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, until, finally, Snape sighed.

"No, I wasn't." He repeated, averting his gaze. "But is it that surprising, Potter?

Harry swallowed, not knowing what to answer.

"What else could I do in those circumstances?" Snape continued, raising his voice. "With half the wizarding world against me and without any allies or anyone who cared about what happened to me?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, suddenly angry, "you could talk to Kinglsey, to McGonagall. Even with Remus if he had survived!" The few passersby near them turned around and Harry forced himself to maintain a proper tone of voice. "They would listen to you. I know they would."

"And what would that get me?" Said Snape, with emotion in his eyes. "Not to be sent to Azkaban, okay. And then? We wizards live longer than muggles, Potter, as you well know. I wouldn't want to spend the next hundred years rotting in my family's house, counting the days I have left."

Harry shook his head, stubbornness in his face.

"You could have started a new life." He insisted.

"I could..." Snape admitted. "And then what? Sooner or later, I would have made the same mistakes. I don't know how to live in a world without war, Potter. And, in those circumstances, I would have no reason to learn how. No." He said, shaking his head. "Give me the right potion and a comfortable place to lie down. It's much faster and less depressing than watching the years go by, one after the other, with nothing to justify staying here."

Harry opened his mouth to reply but realized that he had run out of words. His heart squeezed with sadness, however, imagining that parallel universe. The one where he was dead, and Snape had no one. The one where, lying on the sand of some lost beach, after drinking the "right potion", his eyes closed forever.

"Sir..." The boy began. His voice sounded weak and shaky, and Harry immediately fell silent upon hearing it.

Snape must have noticed too, because his expression changed, and his eyes tinged with a hint of worry.

"Potter, I didn't mean... I..." He said taking a tentative step towards the boy. "It's different now. Things are different now."

"I know…" Said Harry. "But I don't like to think about it. Even under those circumstances... you could have found something to live for. You are only what? Forty? Fifty?"

Snape grimaced.

"Thirty-eight. But I won't hold it against you."

In another moment Harry would have blushed, but he was too upset to do so.

"This is what I mean." He continued. "Thirty-eight. And there are many wizards who have reached over two hundred. Do you really think that in all that time you would not find anything that could make you happy? Friends? Hobbies? Even, I don't know... a partner?"

"Potter..." Snape sighed. "Why is this so important to you? There is no point in talking about what could have happened. I'm not going to disappear, I'm not going to go to any deserted beach, or to take any potions. You don't have to worry."

Harry bit his lip and looked around. There was no one near them, and he was glad once again that Snape had brought them down that street.

"I..." He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to think I'm giving myself too much importance, okay? It's just that... Between those two scenarios, the one we are in right now and the other... The only difference I see, sir, is that in one I am alive and in the other... I'm not."

Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"Potter..." He began. "I..."

"The thing, sir, is that that worries me. Because, if something were to happen to me, I don't want you to decide-"

"If something were to happen to you? What would happen to you, Potter?" Snape narrowed his eyes, suspicion in his gaze. "You're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?"

Harry realized what Snape was implying and he quickly shook his head. He hadn't thought about it, not really. Though, every now and then, he could feel an idea dancing and floating through his thoughts, like a shapeless cloud. That image had never taken a concise, clear form, but, sometimes, when he looked at it closely, especially on his worst nights, it began to take on an almost recognizable appearance. And, though it frightened him, a part of him wondered if it might not have been better to catch 'the next train' as Dumbledore had called it.

"No." He said, however, firmly and looking Snape in the eye. "It's just that life is unpredictable and, if I fall off my broom tomorrow, I don't want you to pay the consequences of my clumsiness."

Snape's gaze was on his face, studying him.

"You don't have to worry about me, Potter. Even if you did suffer that little accident... Things have changed and..." Snape cleared his throat, his typical awkwardness resurfacing as he showed some vulnerability, but he continued speaking. "That plan...that...that...vacation. It doesn't tempt me as much as it used to."

"Really?" Harry asked. He had to make sure.

"Really." Snape nodded. "But you'd better not fall off any brooms, Potter. You haven't come this far just to end up like that... Understood?"

"Understood, sir." Said Harry. "But, then, you'd better not drink 'the right potion'."

"I won't." Snape said solemnly. "I promise."

Harry nodded, and a strange silence fell between them. It wasn't awkward, though, quite the contrary. It was filled with an understanding that neither of them would have expected some time ago. It felt good, to be able to talk like this, about life and death, about thoughts that perhaps would have frightened other people. But not the two of them, who had lost and suffered so much. They both appreciated being able to say things that way, frankly and plainly, without beating around the bush, without evasiveness. And, above all, they appreciated knowing that each one of them would still be there, still living, still trying, no matter how hard it could get some days, and that, in part, it was thanks to the other.

Once the silence had gone on too long for Snape's comfort, he turned away from the abandoned shop and cleared his throat.

"Well, Potter..." He said. "I think we have taken enough time off. Should get on with our shopping then? We don't want to waste the whole day."

Harry nodded and had started to take a step forward when Snape added:

"Unless you want to ask me something else?"

The boy bit his lip, and the cut in half letter popped up in his mind. He still wanted to ask Snape about it, but something told him that wasn't the right time either. The subject would have to wait a bit longer.

"No, nothing else..." He said finally. He looked in front of him, his eyes roaming that street he'd never been in before. "Well, actually, yes." He corrected himself. "One thing."

Snape sighed impatiently, but then waved his hand for him to continue.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. "Most shops are in Diagon Alley, right?"

"Oh, we'll end up going back there, don't worry, Potter." Snape reassured him. "But, there are certain ingredients that they don't sell in regular apothecaries. For that we'll have to go to more, eh, interesting places."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Places like Knockturn Alley, specifically." Snape said, and his thin lips curved into a smile at the expression that had appeared on Harry's face.

Knockturn Alley hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had been there, during his sixth year. It was still dark, narrow, and dirty. And, although he felt safer with Snape there, there was still something about the place that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

As had been the case with Diagon Alley, the street was emptier than usual; the strange, creepy, dirty-looking wizards that used to be there had disappeared. Harry didn't know if they had fled when Voldemort came to power or if, on the contrary, they had been part of his followers and were now being held in Azkaban. He didn't have time to think too much about it, however. It had been only a few seconds since they had arrived when, suddenly, Snape stopped dead in his tracks and said:

"Wait, Potter. I forgot. Look at me for a second."

Harry turned around, moving his green eyes to the professor's face and what he saw made him gasp. Snape's wand was right in front of his nose, pointed directly at him.

"What are you doing?" He said, frowning and taking a step back.

"Be still."

Harry did as he was told but couldn't help raising a hand and placing it between the wand and his face.

"Can you tell me first what you plan to do with that?"

Snape sighed in annoyance, but did as Harry had asked.

"I forgot to change your appearance." He said, lowering his wand, and causing Harry to do the same with his hand. "It's true that there are few people who could recognize you at first glance... Most haven't seen you since last year, and you look quite different, with that long hair and the ridiculous thing you call a beard..."

Harry opened his mouth, offended, but Snape added:

"Still, I don't think it's smart for you to walk around Knockturn Alley showing your face to everyone. Especially if you're with me."

"What do you mean?" Harry said with a frown.

"Well," Snape began, sarcasm in his voice, "first of all, I haven't been tried for my crimes yet. It might seem like I'm manipulating you into testifying on my behalf."

Harry shook his head.

"It wouldn't be necessary. You're innocent. And that's what I'll say if anyone asks me."

Trying not to delve too deeply into a subject that, even if he didn't want to show it, troubled him, Snape said:

"That's very kind of you, Potter. But then, there is also the fact that we find ourselves in one of the most undesirable places in all of England. Famous for its dark arts stores and businesses, and for the... particular characters that can be found there. Considering I'm a former Death Eater, and you're the savior of the magical world, some people might think I'm trying to convince you to join the dark side. Poor naive Potter..." He said, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Some people have too much time on their hands." Replied the boy. "I don't care about which gossips could fly around. I'm used to people thinking the most stupid and implausible things. It's been that way for years."

"Maybe." Snape said. "But to be honest, it's not the ordinary people I'm worried about. It's my... former comrades."

It took Harry a second to understand what he was referring to.

"You mean the other Death Eaters? I thought almost all of them had been arrested."

"That's right, Potter. Almost all of them. But there are always a few who manage to sneak away and hide in the shadows."

Harry swallowed, looking around nervously. Luckily, the street was completely empty.

"However," Snape continued, "one advantage of this War over the first is that most of the Dark Lord's followers stopped hiding their identity. As incompetent as the Ministry is, in time, they should be able to catch them all, especially with a wizard like Kingsley at the helm."

The respect for the man was evident in Snape's voice and a part of Harry wondered, curiously, about the kind of relationship that existed between them after so many years. Was it cordial? Cold? Friendly? Harry bit his lip, thinking. He would have liked to know more about what Snape thought of Kingsley and the other members of the Order, but that didn't seem like the right time to ask. The shadows cast by the few rays of sunlight sneaking between the buildings were too dark and Harry eyed them apprehensively, trying to discern if anything was hiding in them.

"So, you think it's possible, sir?" He asked, his eyes glued to the steep stairs in front of him, descending towards the rest of the alley. "That there are any Death Eaters hiding around here?"

"Everything is possible, Potter." Snape replied. "But, while I believe it would be too much of a coincidence to run into any of them, it's better to be safe than sorry. If they see you, they'll attack without a second thought."

"And what about you, won't they do the same to a spy who betrayed their Dark lord?"

Snape shook his head.

"I know you proclaimed my innocence for everyone to hear during the end of the Battle, Potter." He said, causing Harry to blush. "But most Death Eaters who were there are already in Azkaban. And the others... Well, let's just say I wouldn't be the first wizard to fool the Ministry and act as a traitor to the Dark Lord when he is not. My former comrades will want to make sure I'm not still one of theirs before they hex me."

Harry wasn't sure about that but decided it was best not to argue.

"Besides," Snape continued, "this isn't the only reason why I want to hide your identity. Most wizards act differently when you're in their presence. And there are people that I would want to talk to, information I would like to obtain... And I don't think it would be possible while having the famous Harry Potter hanging from my arm."

Harry narrowed his eyes, the gears turning in his mind. People to talk to? Information to obtain? Suddenly that trip to Knockturn Alley didn't seem as innocent as before.

"We didn't come all this way just to buy potion ingredients, did we?" He said suspiciously.

Snape gave him one of those genuine smiles that were so rare on him.

"I hadn't thought about it when I agreed to go to Diagon Alley with you, if that's what you're wondering. But then, planning what to do while we were here... Well, the opportunity seemed too good to waste. It's been over a month since the Battle and I want to know what the situation is." He explained. "And there are certain people here who, even if they could not be considered Death Eaters as such, are sympathetic to the cause and have been involved in their circles. Maybe, they can give me information on what's been going on. If there's some plan brewing among those who managed to escape. Some kind of revenge of sorts. Or if, on the contrary, things are better than I expected."

Harry ran a hand over his face wearily. He knew that old habits die hard, and that Snape had been a spy for many years. He understood why he couldn't pass up the opportunity to get information. But, still, he worried that he was doing all this to make himself feel useful. Or, a little voice in his head reminded him, wouldn't it be to keep you safe?

"But that doesn't mean the ingredients aren't important." Snape added, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "I have a project in mind that could be very interesting and requires certain things that are hard to find. If you keep up the level you've shown the last few days, perhaps you could give me a hand with the brewing."

Harry lifted his head, his concern forgotten after those words.

"Really?" He hadn't expected that.

"Really. But we'll talk about it later. First... We have to hide you." Snape reminded him.

Harry took a deep breath; he trusted the man, but being on the other side of his wand, not knowing what was going to happen, scared him. Trying to calm himself, knowing that changing his appearance was necessary, he sighed and looked Snape in the eye.

"All right." He said, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready. Do what you have to do."

"One would think that you don't trust me, Potter." Snape replied with a mocking expression. "Hold still. This won't hurt."

Harry nodded, though the nervousness was still inside him. Seeing the expression in the boy's face, Snape added, with an amused twinkle in his eye:

"I hope."

Those two words, instead of increasing his unease, had the opposite effect. Harry's worry subsided and his lips curved upward, appreciating his professor's humor.

"Ready?" Snape asked, pointing his wand at him.

"Ready."

The Potions Master nodded and then focused his gaze on the boy, concentration on his features. After a moment, Harry felt something hot and cold at the same time fall on his head. For a second, he thought it was water, but then the strange material flowed down the rest of his face, past his forehead and cheeks and onto his chin, and he knew it was not. No water felt this light and heavy at the same time. Then, he noticed a strange whisper coming from Snape's mouth. The professor was mumbling incomprehensible words, his brown frowned, and his lips moving. As Harry tried to make out some of what he was saying, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, how a lock of his own hair, right next to his cheekbone, had begun to change color. It started to lighten, transforming from the black he was used to, to a dark blonde tone. And, when the boy moved his gaze to look back at Snape, he realized, annoyed, that there was something in the middle of his field of vision. With a startled gasp, he noticed that it was his nose, which had grown considerably. He raised a hand to touch it, but Snape stopped him:

"Wait, Potter, we're not finished. Let me see."

The Potions Master stepped back and contemplated his handiwork for a few seconds.

"Hmm, yes, it might work." He said, as Harry averted his gaze, somewhat uncomfortable with that scrutiny. "You know, Potter. If you had looked like this from day one, it would have been a lot harder to hate you. You look nothing like your father."

Not quite knowing what to say, Harry started to move, but Snape stopped him again.

"Wait." He said once more. "I've changed the color of your hair, hidden the scar, and lengthened your nose and chin a bit. But I'm afraid an attentive person could still identify you. Those glasses are too recognizable, Potter." He added with annoyance.

"And couldn't you fix my eyes so I don't need them?"

Snape clicked his tongue.

"No... The enchantment only changes your appearance. Your face remains the same, it's the image others see that's different. And, while there are wizards who are able to fix vision problems, doing something akin to laser surgery for Muggles, it must be done by a trained professional, which obviously, I am not. You may decide in the future to go through with the procedure and ditch these uncomfortable glasses for good... But, right now, we'll have to think of another solution."

Harry nodded, saving that information for another time, and then Snape raised his wand again.

"Let's see... Perhaps I could change the color of your eyes, and also the model of the glasses... Yes, yes that could work. Be very still, Potter."

Harry tensed again and his first instinct was to close his eyes tightly, but, taking a deep breath, he forced himself to keep them open and remain still. Snape pointed directly at his left pupil and then, delicately, subtly moved the wand in a semicircle. Once he was done, he repeated the same with his right eye.

"That's it. Done." Snape said, causing Harry to exhale with relief. "Now all that remains is to modify the glasses."

With a wave of his wand, Harry's thin, round glasses became squarer and thicker. The boy turned his head to look at his reflection in the dusty glass of the nearest store. A light-haired stranger returned his gaze, one with brown eyes, and when he reached up to touch that nose larger than his own, the young man in the reflection did the same.

"What a weird feeling..." He muttered.

"Try not to show so much surprise about your own face, Potter. It's important that you are convincing."

"Yes, sir." The boy said, finally averting his gaze from the reflection. "And now, what do we do?"

Snape looked around at the deserted alley that snaked forward, descending into darkness.

"Now... if you can assure me that you'll know how to behave, then we can go."

Harry nodded, trying to show Snape that he had nothing to worry about, that he wasn't going to blow that opportunity.

"Alright." Said the Potions Master. "With any luck, if we get both the information I'm interested in and the ingredients, we'll only have to go to one particular place. A place that, from what I hear, will be familiar to you."

Harry frowned.

"Sir?"

"Borgin and Burkes, Potter. As I recall, you've been to that store more than once, haven't you?"

Harry's heart pounded. That was the shop where Draco Malfoy had bought the pendant that nearly ended Katie Bell's life. Where the closet that the Death Eaters had used the night Dumbledore died was located. Snape must have seen the anger on his face, because he added:

"Well, you seem to know the place. That's good, that way you will also know what to expect from Borgin."

"I can't believe he is not behind bars." Harry said angrily. "Everyone knows he's a blood supremacist and has had dealings with Death Eaters."

"That's right." Snape replied. "But, at the end of the day, the same could be said of a great many wizards. And, in this case, our dear Borgin could be of much use to us." At the expression that had appeared on Harry's face, he added, "Get a grip, Potter. Borgin's not the smartest person, but even he'll realize something's up if you look at him that way."

"But-"

"It's imperative that he doesn't suspect anything, or he won't give up any information. So, you will take a deep breath, remain quiet, and not react to anything he says." Snape glared at him. "Understood? Don't make me regret bringing you along."

Harry narrowed those brown eyes Snape had given him.

"You could have come another day by yourself to buy the ingredients and get your precious information." He said, between angry and curious. "If you're so worried that I'm going to ruin the plan, why did you bring me with you?"

Snape watched him silently for a few seconds. Finally, when Harry already thought he wasn't going to answer, he said:

"It's always best to have someone who has your back, in case things go wrong. I'm still recovering from Nagini's attack, and, while Borgin may not be the most skilled wizard in the world... My magic isn't as strong as usual." He admitted, and Harry was surprised at his frankness. He knew Snape hated showing weakness or relying on anyone. "If things get ugly, I'll be grateful to have the mighty Harry Potter, banisher of dark lords, to help me."

Harry controlled the urge to roll his eyes; he was aware that Snape always needed to use his sarcasm after showing the slightest vulnerability.

"Besides," Snape continued, "I had also thought that an experience like this might help you in your development as an Auror."

"Sorry?"

"It's not all brute strength and epic duels, Potter. If you're going to be any good at your job, in many cases you will have to investigate, shut up, and listen. Most of the time being smart, knowing how to observe and asking the right questions is the best way to proceed..."

Harry stirred, somewhat uncomfortably. He was extremely grateful that Snape was thinking about his future, that he wanted to teach him and help him prepare for it. He was already learning a lot from the man during Potions tutoring and he would never have imagined that one day he would be able to see him in action as well, acting as a spy. Despite that, with the mention of his possible job, his stomach twisted painfully.

"Sir..." He said, unable to contain himself. "I appreciate the thought, it's just... Actually, I... I'm not so sure I want to be an Auror anymore."

He had said that sentence quietly, averting his gaze, suddenly embarrassed. It was something he had wanted since his fifth year, and everyone had smiled hearing it. As if it was obvious. His parents had fought dark wizards, and so had his godfather, his mentors... Harry himself had done it since he was eleven, facing Quirrell, the Basilisk, the Dementors, making it through the Triwizard Tournament, surviving battles against Death Eaters, against Voldemort himself... And, finally, he had fulfilled the prophecy, defeating the Dark Lord. It seemed the way to go, he was destined for it, everyone agreed. But, lately, since the end of the War especially, Harry no longer had that certainty that being an Auror was what he wanted to do. He knew that there were still Death Eaters on the loose, and that he would probably see another dark and powerful wizard rise in his lifetime. But he was tired; tired of suffering, of being in danger, of struggling to survive. Perhaps, in that moment, what he needed was something different, to let the Ministry and the adult, trained Aurors, deal with it all.

"Potter?" Snape called out, snapping him out of those thoughts. "Why did you make that face? Why did you say it like someone had died? What difference does it make if that's not what you want? You'll find something else."

"But..."

"But what? Where there some people who presumed that the Savior of the magical world would single-handedly put every dark wizard in Britain behind bars?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "That expected one kid to do the work of hundreds of adult wizards, as per usual? Well, that's their problem. Not yours. And they'll figure it out without your help. You don't owe anyone anything, Potter."

Harry swallowed hard, trying not to show that, with a couple of sentences, Snape had lifted a weight on his chest that he hadn't really noticed until then.

"I mean it, Potter." Snape added, misinterpreting his silence. "A little over a month ago your expectations for the future were to die at the hands of the Dark Lord, without the slightest chance of survival. Now, you can do what you want with your life. And," He added, with immense anger, "Merlin help the Auror who wants to blame you for it. I'd sooner marry Gilderoy Lockhart than let some useless Ministry git make you feel bad for not joining his gang of failed old wizards."

It was strange to see Snape angry not because of Harry but, surprisingly, on his behalf. Not knowing what to respond, the boy opened his mouth and said the only thing he could think of:

"Lockhart?"

Two ugly pink spots appeared on Snape's cheeks, who averted his gaze, uncomfortable because of his own outburst.

"It was the worst option I could think of. Potter. Either him, or Umbridge... But that's not the point. Don't try to change the subject." He said, fixing him with his gaze. "The important thing here is that you understand, without any doubt, that you don't have to force yourself to be an Auror if that's not what you want. That you're still very young and can change your mind. And that you have all the time in the world to decide what you'd like to do. Which reminds me..." Snape ran a finger across his thin lips, thinking. "Yes… Perhaps I could... Yes, it would be smart..."

"Sir?"

"How would you feel about talking to Professor McGonagall about this?" Snape asked suddenly, causing disappointment to wash over the boy.

"I, uh... I mean, I wouldn't mind telling her, of course. It's just..." Harry mumbled, nervously. "I... Well, the thing is, I... If I have to talk about it with either one of you… I'd rather it was you, sir." He confessed without looking him in the eye.

Even with his gaze on the floor, Harry could feel Snape studying him. After a few seconds of silence, he finally said:

"I meant talking to her and me, Potter. We have both been Heads of our respective houses, so, together, we would be able to advise you even better than alone."

"Oh, right." Harry nodded, his cheeks flushing, but feeling a pleasant warmth in his chest.

"Besides," Snape continued. "Minerva could offer you different perspective than me. She'll be able to listen to you and offer ideas that I wouldn't have thought of. Not to mention, after so many years at Hogwarts, she has a wide variety of contacts. Contacts that could get you a job or even an internship, if that's what you're looking for."

Harry nodded, calmer to see that Snape wasn't trying to pass the burden of having to deal with his future to McGonagall.

"Sounds great, sir." He said, sincerely. "Really, thank you so much for taking care of this."

Snape waved a hand, trying to show indifference.

"Don't thank me, Potter." He said. "I'm sure you're not the only one of your classmates who doesn't know what to do with their future anymore. The War will have changed a lot of minds. It's normal."

"I suppose..." Harry said, without showing what he was really thinking. The fact that Snape wasn't going out of his way to help any of them. Only him, Harry. A strange feeling spread through his body, as his lips curved into a small smile. While it was true that over the past few weeks he had talked to the professor about his future, what Snape was proposing now was something far greater. He was showing initiative for Harry, taking responsibility for him, caring, as Sirius would have done had he still been alive. As Lily and James would have... Swallowing with emotion, Harry could hear Snape speaking again.

"...I'll talk to Minerva about meeting with her one day of next week, alright?"

Harry nodded, still with that warmth inside him.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Well, matter settled, then... Now, how about we focus on why we're here, Potter?"

Harry suddenly remembered the impending visit to Borgin and Burkes, which had completely disappeared from his mind the past few minutes.

"Yes, sir. "He said, squaring his shoulders and checking that his wand was still in his trouser pocket. "We can go. I'm ready."

"I hope so. But, before that, we should get a couple of things straight. First of all, you will enter the store with me and keep an eye on Borgin. Make sure that, if things go badly, he is not going to try to hex me. But that's it, Potter. You will not do anything else unless absolutely necessary. Understood?" He asked, piercing Harry with his back eyes.

The boy nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Remember, Potter, you must stick to your role and let me do the talking. Keep your temper under control. Don't act suspiciously, don't react to anything you hear. No matter what it is, no matter what Borgin says... Or me."

"Sir?"

"To get information I'm going to have to act like a Death Eater, Potter. This, naturally, involves saying things I disagree with and would not say otherwise. So, try not to react as you normally would - do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Said Harry, somewhat annoyed that Snape felt the need to explain that to him. He wasn't an idiot; he had already figured that the man would have to act like one of Voldemort's followers. He wasn't going to protest or get mad at him for it. Though, come to think of it, it would feel odd and strange to see him acting like a Death Eater again. More so considering how convincing Snape had always been as a dark wizard. A small part of Harry had to admit that, after more than a month of befriending and getting to know the real Potions Master, it would be hard to see him like that again, even if he knew it was all a lie. Realizing this, his annoyance disappeared, and he mentally thanked Snape for that warning, for being able to prepare himself for what he was about to witness.

"Right." Snape continued. "Then the second thing I wanted to tell you is that, obviously, I won't be able to call you by your name. So, we'll have to think of a new one."

"A new one, sir?"

"Yes. I can't keep calling you 'Potter' in front of Borgin, can I?"

Harry swallowed.

"No, of course not."

"Well then, can you think of a last name that's going to be easy for you to remember? Or shall I suggest one?"

Harry shook his head, but suddenly a word popped into his mind.

"Evans!" He exclaimed, causing Snape to flinch.

"Evans?" He muttered, and his mouth twitched oddly, as if he was struggling to pronounce that word. "I suppose... I suppose there wouldn't be a problem." Snape cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Yeah, I don't think he... I don't think Borgin knew your mother's... your mother's last name."

Harry noted the difficulty with which Snape spoke those sentences and, for an instant, wondered if it would have been a mistake to suggest it. He was aware that, up to that point, they had not spoken much about Lily. Partly because Harry had wanted to respect the professor's privacy. And partly because he didn't quite know how to start that conversation.

"Sir? If it's a problem I can pick another one." Said the boy, aware that this was a very delicate subject.

"No. No, it's not a problem." Snape took a deep breath. "You just surprised me, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure, Pott... Evans." Snape corrected himself "Evans." He repeated, and this time the name sounded more natural.

Hearing it, something in Harry's chest fluttered, like a bird taking flight. He was proud to be a Potter and, even though that would never change and he cherished the name his father had given him, everyone seemed to forget that he was also an Evans. And, since Aunt Petunia had given up on being anything other than a Dursley, that meant that Harry was the only one left. Hearing his mother's surname, having someone use it on him, reminded him of this fact and, at that revelation, emotions fluttered through the boy. Remembering those red-haired people he had seen in the mirror of Erised, a sad smile spread across his face, and Harry had to take a deep breath, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of longing. He had never been so aware as in that moment that he, Harry, was the legacy that Lily, James, and all those who had come before had left in the world. With that reality throbbing in his chest, the boy swallowed hard and looked ahead at Snape, who was watching him intently.

"Everything all right?" The Potions Master asked him, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Harry nodded quickly, though he still felt the flutter of emotion inside him.

"Yes, yes. All good." He said, trying to regain his composure. "It's just... That name..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Snape understood.

"I know." He said simply, and a veil of sadness appeared in his dark eyes. "Look, Potter, if you want to, we can find another one, no problem."

"No! No, this one's fine." Harry said quickly. "I like it. I want to use it."

Snape searched his face for something, frowning slightly. Finally, after a few seconds, he must have found it, because he tilted his head and said:

"All right. If you're sure, then we will use it.

"Thank you, sir."

Snape lowered his head, and then looked around, at the alley that had been empty since they had arrived.

"Well, having cleared that up… I think we should get going." He pulled his wand from one of his cloak pockets. "Lumos." He said, and the light illuminated the dark cobblestones of Knockturn Alley. "Ready?"

Harry focused his gaze on the stairs in front of them, full of shadows despite the wand's light. Nervousness had begun to bubble up inside him again, but he tried to keep it at bay and forced his face to show focus and confidence.

"Yes, I am."

"Good." Snape said. "Then let's go pay our dear friend Borgin a visit."

Eyes combing the darkness in front of him, the Potions Master began to descend into the depths of Knockturn Alley. Harry drew his own wand and then took a deep breath, before walking down the stairs after the man, his heart pounding.

Snape opened Borgin and Burkes' door, causing it to creak and the bell on it to chime softly. The sound of metal against metal broke the silence and startled the man behind the counter, who raised his head quickly, suspicion and fear poorly hidden in his gaze. His eyes fell on the spot where Harry and Snape stood, and as he recognized the Potions Master, his expression changed completely. A false smile formed on his lips, but Harry could see the confusion and worry that it hid.

"Mr. Snape!" Borgin said in a sweet, fake voice. "But what a wonderful surprise!"

"Borgin." Snape repeated, much more coldly.

"What a joy to see you here, sir, in my shop. Safe and sound." Borgin said. And, though his tone was still just as smooth, Harry could detect some doubt in it. "There were the most frightful rumors about you, most frightful indeed."

"Really?" Snape replied with disinterest. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Of course, of course, sir. Especially when they were such horrible stories in the first place. Things like... Well, I hardly dare say them out loud. Things like, Merlin forgive me, the Dark Lord had murdered you for being a traitor... Or that... that the Potter boy had slit your throat as revenge for Albus Dumbledore..."

Borgin shook his head and waved his hands, as if to make those dreadful thoughts disappear from his mind, but it didn't fool Harry. It was obvious he was trying to discover the truth, watching Snape's reaction to those words.

"Of course, they were all disgusting lies, I see." He continued. "You don't know how pleased I am to know that."

"That makes two of us..." Snape said coldly.

Borgin tried to hold the Potions Master's gaze but when those black eyes fell on his, he couldn't help but avoid them. Coughing slightly, the shop owner passed a hand over his oily hair and said:

"So, uh, well... What brings you to my modest store?" He asked, changing the subject. Then he seemed to remember that Harry was there as well because he added: "And who is this handsome young man?" A new student, perhaps? His face looks familiar..."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, trying to think of a lie, but Snape intervened before he had to.

"Maybe you'll remember him from one of your visits to Malfoy Manor last year. Mr. Evans spent some time there, as a guest."

Although that had never happened, Borgin nodded, as if he remembered it perfectly.

"Oh, of course, Mr. Evans. Of course." He said nothing else, however, and Harry had to admire Snape's cunningness. Borgin wasn't going to ask any more questions if they had to do with Malfoy manor. Everyone knew that Voldemort's inner circle had stayed there.

"As for what brings us to your shop..." Snape said, approaching the counter slowly, with that sinister elegance that characterized him. "I'm looking for certain materials that may be hard to find. Materials that I am hoping you can provide." He slipped a hand into the pocket of his robes and Harry could see Borgin tense up, but Snape merely pulled out a sheet of paper with a list written on it. He then passed it to the man, who took it with a slightly trembling hand and began to read.

"Hard to find, indeed." Borgin said after a few seconds of silence. "But you've come to the right place, no doubt about it." He folded the sheet Snape had given him and handed it back to him, smiling again with that fake sweetness Harry was starting to hate. "They should be in the back room. If you'd be so kind as to join me..."

Borgin indicated a door at the end of the shop, causing Harry to look at Snape anxiously. He wanted to go with him to cover his back, but he didn't know if doing so would arouse suspicion. He was about to say something, when Snape called him by that fake name, causing a second of confusion in the boy.

"Evans." He said, without looking at him. "You are coming as well. There are too many interesting objects in this store to leave you alone with them."

Harry exhaled, relieved, and hurried to join the two wizards.

"It's not an issue, really." Borgin said as he saw him approach. Though he smiled, Harry could sense his discomfort. It was clear he didn't trust them and would have preferred to keep them apart. "If the boy wants to stay and observe he can do so without a problem... It's normal for an intelligent young man to be curious and-"

"It's not his curiosity that worries me." Snape replied. "But his inability to keep his hands to himself. You don't want to know the disasters he caused at Malfoy Manor precisely by touching what he shouldn't."

"Oh, I quite understand." Borgin said, bowing his head. "Lucius has always kept magnificent things in that house." He seemed more relaxed than before, and Harry understood at once why. If 'Evans' had a keen interest in the Dark Arts and had stayed in the Malfoy's house for a while, long enough to cause several problems, it meant that he was not a traitor and was not on the Ministry's side. Consequently, Snape couldn't be either.

"An authentic paradise for Dark Arts enthusiasts, yes sir." Borgin continued, as Harry tried to form a remorseful expression with that strange face Snape had given him. "I imagine it must have been difficult not to look more closely into his collection, eh?"

"A little." Harry nodded, with what he hoped was a convincing smile. It must have been, because Borgin returned it, and it was the most sincere expression the boy had seen from him since they had entered.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't encourage the boy." Snape interjected in that icy voice of his. "His situation is already precarious, the last thing he needs is for the Ministry to find him rummaging through objects they deem 'dangerous'."

"No, sir, of course not. I wouldn't want that at all..." Borgin cleared his throat and, though he avoided meeting Snape's dark eyes and an awkward silence fell in the room, Harry could see that that hint of distrust and suspicion on his face had completely disappeared. With that seemingly innocuous topic of conversation, Snape had helped dispel Borgin's doubts, and had subtly reassured him that they were still on the same side, the one of the Dark Arts, Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Impressed once again by the Potions Master's cunning, Harry was vaguely aware that Borgin had started talking again.

"... in that case, perhaps it would be better if the boy came with us, then."

He pulled a bunch of keys from the pocket of his robe, as Snape nodded. After searching for the right one for a few seconds, Borgin opened the backroom door.

"Come in, please, come in." He said, stepping aside and letting them through.

Snape entered first and Harry followed close behind him, feeling Borgin's gaze on his back as he passed the man. Once inside, his eyes took a little while to get used to the darkness of that new room. When they did, he could see that in front of them were dozens of shelves rising from floor to ceiling, creating aisles that stretched across the room. They were filled with jars with floating things inside, wooden boxes locked with padlocks, and a number of other strange objects that the boy couldn't identify.

"Give me a second, I'll be right back." Borgin said, closing the door they had come through. He then disappeared behind a bookshelf, his footsteps echoing through the room. Harry heard him walked between the aisles, until he stopped about ten meters away from where he was standing with Snape. After a few seconds of silence, the characteristic sounds of someone rummaging through objects filled the air.

While they waited, Harry looked at Snape and raised an eyebrow, asking him with a glance if he thought everything was going well. He didn't say it out loud as he knew Borgin would be listening to every word they said, but he trusted that the Potions Master would be able to understand his expression without a problem. Just to be sure, though, he let his thoughts float to the surface of his mind, where Snape could read them easily, even without using Legeremancy.

After a few seconds of prolonged eye contact, the Potions Master nodded slightly, responding to those unspoken words. At the sight of it, Harry sighed, relieved. However, the expression on Snape's face told him not to let his guard down, and the boy bowed his head, showing that he would not. After a few moments, the noises that Borgin was making stopped, and they heard his feet move across the floor towards them. When he appeared beside them again, he was holding something in his hands.

"Ah, here it is. Difficult to obtain, no doubt." He handed Snape a small bag containing something that looked like animal hair and then another filled with some whitish objects that Harry was almost certain were bones. "But useful, very useful."

The boy held back the urge to ask about it, as Snape pocketed the objects inside his robes. After a few seconds of silence, Borgin cleared his throat, nervously.

"And, uh, well, can I help you with anything else?" He asked, walking towards the door. "Or will that be all?"

"Actually... Yes, there is something else." Snape said and Harry sensed the danger in the professor's low, soft voice. The hair on his arms stood up, as a shiver ran through him, and he wondered if Borgin could feel it too. "Though I think it would be wiser to discuss it here, away from prying eyes."

Borgin, who had his back to them, about to open the door, stopped dead in his tracks at Snape's words. His shoulders tensed and slowly, like one facing a dangerous animal, he removed his hand from the knob and turned towards them again. Harry could see a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead and his throat visibly moved, swallowing hard.

"S-Sir?"

"You talked about 'rumors' when we came in..." Snape said, his gaze holding Borgin petrified, standing in front of him, his mouth half open. "Well, that's all I need. Rumors."

"Rumors?"

"Yes."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand." Borgin gave a nervous little smile, in which there was no longer a trace of sweetness, but fear.

"Oh, let me explain." Snape began, in a sinister voice, as Harry breathed in nervously, waiting for his next move. "The Ministry considers wizards like me, like Mr. Evans here, to be, ah, quite harmless right now. But that will change if they see us asking questions about... certain people they consider dangerous." Snape let those words fill the air for a few seconds, watching Borgin intently. "My space to maneuver, to act, is limited. Very limited. As such, I am forced to ask you for information that, in other times, I wouldn't have to."

"Sir?"

"The others." Snape said, getting straight to the point. "The ones who managed to escape. The ones who were able to flee the Ministry."

"I don't know where they are." Borgin said immediately. "I don't know where they're hiding, I swear, I..."

Snape waved a hand, looking bored.

"I know you don't, Borgin. None of us would trust you enough to give you such valuable information." With a small smile, he took a step forward and moved even closer to the man, invading his personal space. "No. What I want to know is what your rumors say. About the next move. The plan."

Borgin swallowed hard, avoiding Snape's eyes, and Harry remained silent, his own heart pounding.

"Plan? What plan?"

"To bring back the Dark Lord. To get revenge on Potter and the Aurors. To retake control of the Ministry. Think, Borgin, think." Snape muttered, his voice softer and more dangerous.

Harry held his breath as Borgin shook his head. The boy didn't dare move. He felt afraid all of a sudden, even though Snape's gaze wasn't on him, even though he knew he was on his side. In his mind, he thanked Merlin that that was the case.

"T-there's no plan. I swear."

"Don't. Lie. To. Me." Snape said, clearly pronouncing each word, his face inches from Borgin's.

"It's the truth." Replied the man in a whisper. "They don't trust me, as you said, but that much it's clear. There is no plan, no way to reorganize or regain control of the magical world. And the Dark Lord... He's dead, definitely this time. Everyone says so. That's why there is no plan." Borgin said, speaking faster and faster. "And those who managed to escape have decided to flee. Leave Britain. Change their identity. Some of them contacted me to obtain Polyjuice Potion, illegal portkeys, things like that. That's why I know. There is no plan, I swear!"

At those words, Snape had let out a growl and grabbed Borgin by the collar of his robes.

"Are you telling me there's nothing we can do?" He said, gritting his teeth.

"I... I..."

"Borgin." Snape warned, shaking him, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

"I... I... I'm afraid so." Borgin muttered, even more frightened if possible. "But you've managed to fool the Ministry, sir, you could-"

"Lucius!" Snape cut him off, causing Borgin to wince. "The Malfoy's. What happened to them? Did they escape?"

Harry tried to hide his confusion. They both knew the Malfoy's had been arrested.

Borgin swallowed hard, fearing what his next words might unleash.

"N-no, sir. The Aurors captured them."

Snape grunted and let go of the man's collar, who remained in place, cowering even more.

"That's it?" Snape asked urgently, drilling him with those black eyes. "Information, Borgin, I need information. What else do you know about them? What is their situation?"

With his back against the closed door, Borgin had nowhere to run or hide from the look on Snape's face. He raised his arms slightly, trying to shield himself from the professor's gaze, causing Harry to feel a pang of pity for him. He could see how scared he was and was glad once more than Snape was not looking at him that way.

"There are, there are rumors..." Borgin began, choosing his next words carefully. "I heard they're still at their manor. The three of them. Until the trial is over, at least. A small blessing." He said, hoping that that would succeed in placating Snape's anger. "Unfortunately... It seems that... with absolute certainty, Lucius will end up in Azkaban. But... But!" He added, seeing the expression on Snape's face. "Narcissa and Draco are likely to keep their freedom. They would remain under surveillance, of course, but relatively free." Borgin hastened to say. "They would be allowed to keep the house and a small part of their fortune. Provided Lucius cooperates, of course, and that... And that the Potter boy testifies on their behalf."

"What?" This time the surprise in Snape's voice was real, and Harry was sure his head had subtly jerked in his direction. "Why on earth would Potter testify on their behalf?"

Borgin opened his mouth and whispered:

"That… That I'm afraid I don't know, sir. There are some rumors that the Malfoy boy helped him. Saved his life. Or… Or maybe it was the other way round… It's not clear, sir. I apolo-"

"Be quiet." Snape silenced him. "I'm not interested in your apologies."

"Y-yes, sir…" Said Borgin in a small voice.

Silence fell in the dark back room and, suddenly, Harry felt very aware of his own body. Of the loud beating of his heart, of his labored, heavy breathing. He stayed still, trying not to call attention on himself, as his brain worked furiously. He had thought about checking on the Malfoys, but, between one thing and another, a month had passed from the Battle and he hadn't gotten around to do it. He knew they were captured and that they were relatively safe. But that, depending on the outcome of the trial, could change. He tried to understand how he felt about it, about them, but it was hard. He had hated that family with all his might for years, specially Lucius. If he was honest with himself, Harry thought that the man would deserve his eventual imprisonment, after all the pain he had caused. However, Draco's behavior when they got captured, refusing to identify him, and Narcissa's lie to Voldemort the night of the Battle, meant that things weren't as simple as before. He didn't feel as comfortable as he once would have, sending them to Azkaban, to spend the rest of their life in prison. It was complicated, especially now that, according to Borgin, their future rested on his shoulders. He would need to think about it, talk to Snape, maybe visit the Malfoys before the trial, if that was even possible. But, for now, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, to deal with them later. He couldn't afford to lose focus in the middle of Borgin and Burkes, with Snape getting close to Borgin once more and talking in his most threatening voice.

"… I see that you will not be of further use to us, then." He was saying. And then he put one hand inside the pocket of his robes. Both Harry and Borgin flinched, thinking that he was going to take out his wand. To the boy's relief, when he saw the long, white hand of Snape again, it was filled with a handful of bright coins. The Potion Master pushed them into Borgin's chest and whispered: "There, for the materials and the information. Don't let it be said that I don't pay my debts."

Borgin grabbed them automatically, his hands shaking. Once Snape was certain that he wouldn't drop them, he looked at him in the eye and added:

"Don't tell anybody what we talked about here today. Or I will pay you another visit. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y- Yes, sir. But I won't-"

"Good." Said Snape. "Evans! We are leaving. No, there is no need to see us out, Borgin. We know the way."

Harry swallowed, glancing at the pitiful looking man as he moved away from the door to let them pass. He knew what Borgin was, he knew that if it were him in his position the man wouldn't give another thought about him… But Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for him. And as he watched him shake, with that fearful look on his face, he wondered how Snape was able to stay in character. How could he withstand doing things much worse than this, witnessing others torture and murderer innocents, while Harry couldn't even handle a bit of rough talk and intimidation on a bad man.

He crossed the shop in silence, walking behind Snape, as a rush of admiration, sadness, and concern for the professor filled his chest. He hoped with all his might that this would be the last time Snape would have to play the role of a Death Eater. The Potions Master deserved some rest, some peace and quiet after everything. Merlin knew that they both did.

The fresh air of the outside hit Harry in the face, removing some of the oppressive atmosphere that had clung to his brain during Borgin's interrogation. The boy didn't have time to savor the feeling, though, because Snape had started to walk away from the shop, with his usual long strides and a focused expression. He was already a few meters ahead of him and Harry hurried after the man, increasing his pace to try to keep up. When he opened his mouth to ask why he was walking so fast, the Potions Master cut him off before he could even say anything.

"Not now, Evans. Wait until we make it out of here."

Harry nodded and did as he was told, keeping quiet and looking around the deserted road.

The minutes passed by as he followed behind Snape in silence, the dark cobblestones of Knockturn Alley moving underneath his feet. Then, when the streets became bigger and brighter than before and the boy had started to recognize some of the shops around him, signaling that they were closer to the Diagon Alley area, Snape finally stopped in front of a building. Harry saw that there were some people sitting outside of it, drinking and eating at wooden tables, protected from the summer sun by huge and brightly colored umbrellas. Overall, the place looked like a normal café, and the boy wondered what they were doing there.

"Come with me." Snape simply said, ignoring the questioning expression on his face and walking inside the building.

The boy followed him and, once he had entered, he saw that the interior also seemed that of a normal, common restaurant. The main room they were standing in had stone floors and walls, and it was filled with the same wooden tables and chairs as the outside area. Opposite from the door they had just walked in, Harry could see a counter with a cash register on it and a glass display showcasing muffins, croissants, and other breakfast food. The boy looked around, thinking that maybe Snape had brought them there to meet someone. It seemed strange that he had forgotten to tell Harry about it, though, but he couldn't find another reason for them being in that place. They still needed to buy plenty of things from Diagon Alley and, besides, he imagined that the Potions Master would have wanted to discuss all that had happened inside Borgin and Burkes.

But Snape didn't explain himself. Instead, he approached a blond-haired waitress and started interchanging a few words with her. He spoke in his characteristic soft whisper and Harry, that had been distracted looking around, didn't understand much of what was being said. The waitress must have, though, because she nodded. Then she gestured at them to follow her towards a door to the far-left corner of the place. After she opened it, Harry saw that inside was just another room similar to the one they had just left. The only difference, he noticed, was that it was empty of costumers. This seemed to be what Snape had wanted because he thanked the waitress and gestured Harry to follow him to a table in the middle of the room.

"Sit down, Potter." He said, after the waitress had left, closing the door behind her.

Harry did as he was told and sat down across from Snape.

"Are you hungry?"

"I… Sir?" Harry's brow frowned in confusion. "I mean, maybe a little, but…"

"Good, take a look at the menu." Snape said, passing him a greasy piece of paper that had been resting on the table.

"Hmm, okay…" Harry said.

He still didn't understand what they were doing there but he trusted Snape. And, besides, he figured that it would look suspicious if someone entered and they weren't eating anything. They were in a cafe, after all. A quick glance at the menu was enough to make his stomach growl and Harry raised his head, surprised. The clock hanging from the wall behind Snape showed that it was past lunch time. He hadn't noticed that it had become so late, but it explained his body's reaction. "Right, eh…" He said quickly, trying to hide the noise by making it look like he was deciding what to order. "I think I will take the… The chicken sandwich and a… A glass of pumpkin juice."

Snape made a face at his choices, clearly judging that strange combination. He didn't have time to comment on it because the door opened again and the waitress reappeared next to them, a quill floating besides her and a small notepad in her hand. She smiled politely as she took their orders, but Harry could see a hint of recognition and curiosity in her eyes. She definitely knew who the Potions Master was. The boy bit his tongue while she was in the room but, the moment the door closed, his eyes turned to Snape.

"Sir, I think she-"

"She knows who I am, yes." Said Snape calmly.

"But-"

"It won't be an issue, Potter." Snape cut him firmly. "She may not have been part of the Order as such, but she has proved useful and loyal to the cause."

"Oh. Okay, that's good." Nodded Harry, more relaxed now. "But why-"

"Why did we come here?"

It was not the first time that Snape knew what he was going to ask before he had started formulating the question. In the past, Harry would have found that annoying, but now he felt he kind of liked it. It reminded him of what Dumbledore used to do.

"Yes."

"Well, first of all, I figured that you would be getting hungry soon. And I did not wish to walk around Diagon Alley with a starving teenager complaining all the way."

Harry opened his mouth with indignation. The way Snape had said that made him sound like a spoiled brat. One that would throw a tantrum if he didn't eat every few hours.

"I can handle a bit of hunger." He said, his pride wounded. "Quite a bit in fact."

Those long, endless days at the Dursleys where he wouldn't get a scrap of food replayed inside his mind. He had survived them, as well as a whole childhood not getting fed what Dudley, or even a normal kid, should. He then remembered that Snape didn't know the full extent of how his relatives had treated him, even if he had seen glimpses of it during the Occlumency lessons, and added:

"Ask Hermione and Ron, if you want. We didn't precisely eat five-stars meals while we were hiding in the woods."

His redirection of the topic had been smooth but, as Snape regarded him, his black eyes boring into his, Harry saw a spark of something on his face.

"No, I guess you didn't." Murmured the professor.

Then Snape blinked, turning his gaze to the table between them, to his own greasy menu and Harry was unable to decipher that emotion. There must have been something very interesting about the selection of hot sandwiches, because, for a couple of minutes, the Potions Master read them over and over again as silence filled the room.

"It wasn't meant as an offense…" Snape finally said in a quiet, low voice. "I just know that teenagers feel the hunger more than the adults do. Your friend Weasley certainly seemed to have been starving for weeks, every time I saw him eating at the Great Hall…"

"Yeah, well…" Harry said, as the affection for Ron helped push out of his mind the thoughts of long nights starving inside his cupboard. "He is a particular case."

Thinking of Ron made a smile form on Harry's lips. He missed him. Him and Hermione. Luckily, their trip to Australia was coming to an end, and they should be coming back home in the next few days.

"He is indeed…" Snape said, lowering his head.

Silence fell between them once more, until the man added:

"Look, Potter… Your hunger… Or lack thereof… It wasn't the only reason why we came here."

Harry looked at him, interest on his face. He knew there was something else going on.

"The thing is…" Continued Snape. "I figured you would have questions. Questions that would need answering before we could go back to Diagon Alley and proceed with our shopping. I knew that in here we could find a place to both discuss these topics privately and also order something to eat. Effectively killing two birds with one stone.

Harry stared at him with surprise.

"Wait, so that's it? That's the whole reason why we are here? To eat and talk?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

Harry just looked at him. So there wasn't any secret mission going on? Snape wasn't meeting anyone there? He really had just wanted to make sure that he ate, and that his curiosity was satisfied?

"Potter."

"Uh, yes, sir. It's just… Well, I figured you would have preferred to get this trip over with sooner rather than later."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we could have gone quickly to Diagon Alley and purchased everything that we needed to, of course. But the whole thing would have taken more than a few hours and it seemed excessive to do that without stopping to catch our breath. Yes," Snape cut him off, "I know you could have handled it, Potter. That's not the point. The point is that there was no need to do that."

"But, sir-"

"Are you complaining that we came here?" Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "Because we can leave, if you would prefer that?"

"No. No, I wouldn't." Harry said quickly. "I was just surprised." He thought about Aunt Petunia, and how she had only let him eat once his chores had been completed. Noticing the difference between her behavior and that of the man sitting in front of him, made a warm feeling spread inside Harry's chest. He was well aware that, in another time, Snape would have done the same thing as his aunt. He would have not cared that he was hungry or had questions that needed answering. Without a doubt, he would have gone straight to Diagon Alley and, if Harry dared complain, he would have told him to shut up and be quiet. It was precisely that, knowing how different things would have been back then, which made Snape's current actions so significant.

Lost in those thoughts Harry hadn't noticed the waitress entering once more. She approached them and placed their orders on the table, the sandwich and the juice for Harry, and a plain black coffee for Snape. The boy looked at his food appreciatively and, after thanking her, took a bite out of his meal. It was really good, and his stomach growled happily at the taste of it.

"There." Snape said, as the door creaked behind them. "Now we should be left alone for a while." He grabbed the steaming coffee mug in front of him, warming his hands on the ceramic. He then put the cup closer to his lips and took a small sip. Seeing as Harry didn't say anything yet, he swallowed and added: "Well?"

"Sir?"

"I know you have much to ask, Potter. So, go ahead. I will try to answer everything."

Harry watched the smoke rise from Snape's cup, thinking hard. A thousand questions appeared in his mind at the same time, and he stopped for a second, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, trying to choose one particular topic. He knew he should ask about the important stuff first. About what Borgin had said, about the Malfoys… But he had just started to relax after what happened inside the shop, and he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet, to talk about such stressful things. Deciding to hold on to that small moment of tranquility, he chose what he hoped was a simple question with a simple answer.

"Sir…" He started. "You said the waitress wasn't part of the Order… But that she proved to be loyal and useful. What exactly did she do then?"

Snape seemed surprised about that line of questioning, Harry saw. But he didn't comment on it and instead said:

"She owns this place. Has for a few years now. That's why I was certain that she would be here and could give us a quiet place to sit and converse." He paused and took another sip of his coffee, before adding: "Regarding what she did for the Order… Well, working here allowed her to hide in plain sight and listen to people's conversations. She then could report anything interesting that she might have heard to us, which proved quite useful. Don't underestimate the amount of people that let valuable information slip when they are relaxed, thinking no one can hear them."

"I won't."

"Good."

Snape didn't say anything else, and Harry used the silence to take the last few bites of his sandwich.

"Is that it, Potter?" Snape asked, when he had finished. "Don't you have any more questions for me?" He was looking at him with curiosity, but also a hint of something the boy couldn't quite identify. "I figured you would be dying to discuss what happened inside Borgin and Burkes."

"Eh, yes. I am…" Said Harry, biting his lip. "It's just…" He knew Snape wanted him to ask about the Malfoys, he could see it in his face. But the moment he had thought about them, the sandwich he had so happily devoured before had now started bouncing uncomfortably inside his belly. Instead of delving into his own feelings in the matter, and why they made him so nervous, he searched again for a safer topic, something he had been curious about. "I… I wanted to ask you about the materials you got from Borgin. I didn't recognize them. I mean, one looked like hair and the other… The other seemed to be bones…?"

As with his previous question, Snape seemed surprised that he had chosen to ask that particular one. He frowned, studying his face.

"They were bones, yes." He said slowly, straightening up in his chair. "Bones and hair of the same creature, in fact."

Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for Snape to continue speaking but he didn't reply immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch for a few more seconds than necessary. Was this Snape being dramatic as usual? Playing with his anticipation? Or was there something else going on?

"Which creature?" Harry asked.

The professor looked at him seriously and said:

"A werewolf."

Harry's eyes opened in surprise. He was sure he must have heard wrong. A werewolf? Why would Snape need something from a werewolf? And how on earth did Borgin obtain those things? The hair could have been a bit easier, he guessed. But the bones… He looked up at Snape, disgusted, thinking about Remus. He had known that the man hadn't exactly loved werewolves, but to harvest stuff from them to use in Potions?

"Potter." Snape said, cutting his internal rumblings short.

"Did they kill werewolves to obtain those things?" He asked, horrified. "And you want to use them?" Harry tried to keep the accusation form his face, but he knew Snape could still hear it on his voice.

"No, Potter." The Potions Master said, raising a hand. "You are jumping onto conclusions, as usual. No one killed anybody."

Harry looked at him skeptically and Snape sighed.

"Werewolves are incredibly violent when they transform, as you well know." He told him. "Because of this, sometimes they will lose hair, a finger or a limb during full moon, either through self-inflicted wounds or when fighting those of their own kind."

Harry hadn't known that. He remembered the scars on Remus' face and winced.

"These 'lost' parts remain the same even after the person has changed back into human form, as they are not connected to the transformed body." Continued Snape, talking in his teacher voice: slow and precise. Despite the gruesome topic of conversation, it helped calm Harry a bit down. "Wizards that dedicate themselves to gathering particular materials know the right places to go after a full moon. They will search around an area were werewolves have been spotted and, with any luck, they will find what they are looking for lying in a pool of blood." Snape paused and looked at him in the eye for a few seconds. "That's where these ingredients come from. Of course, even if the werewolves don't die, it does hurt them. Luckily for them, they are resilient creatures. And, once they go back to their human form, there are spells and potions that can be used to regain those lost body parts. It's not pretty or comfortable, mind you. I think you will remember the feeling of growing your bones back." Harry thought about his second year and nodded. "Well, it might be painful but, overall, werewolves don't die from these wounds and usually recover."

Harry's anger has subsided somehow after that explanation, but he still didn't understand why Snape would want those things. He had never heard of a potion that needed werewolf in it.

"But why-"

"Borgin sold these things as an amulet." Snape intervened. "During the war, specially, people became terrified of werewolves. Greyback was set loose by the Dark Lord and he didn't have a tendency to control himself. People believed a small piece of something belonging to a werewolf would keep him away. That he would smell his own kind and decide to search another victim. A stupid belief if you ask me. But they got quite popular all the same."

Snape paused for a second, letting Harry process the bits of information that he was being fed.

"My guess is that most of the things Borgin sold were hair, bones and even nails from normal wolves or other animals. But he kept the real stuff for important clients and for himself." He smirked a little and added. "Of course, he could have tried to fool me today… But he didn't. He knew that I would have noticed if he dared."

Harry nodded again. He was calmer than before, knowing that no werewolves had been killed to fill those bags hiding inside Snape's cloak. But he still didn't fully understand why the Potions Master wanted such weird materials.

"Sir…" He started.

Snape obviously knew what he had meant to ask because he raised a hand, stopping him, and said:

"You want to know why I needed parts of transformed werewolves?" He smirked, laying back into the chair. "Well, Potter, I think you will like my answer."

Harry frowned.

"Sir?"

"Remember all those Saint Mungo's orders that kept us busy these last few weeks?"

Harry nodded, passing a finger over the scar he had gotten during his flashback, cutting the roots inside Snape's laboratory. They had managed to finish the batch of potions in time, as well as the next four that the hospital had requested. Still, they had been common regenerative potions, blood replenishers and calming draughts. Nothing that needed werewolf in it.

"Well," Continued Snape, "I've been keeping in touch with them. Although a month has passed since the end of the War, the amount of patients is still significantly high and expert potioneers are rare these days. Most of them have been killed, are injured or have left the country. The hospital, however, still needs their potions, and that's why they appreciate all the help they can get, even if it comes from a former Death Eater..."

Harry wanted to complain about that, but Snape kept talking.

"Don't argue, Potter. It's the truth. They will accept my help until the trial takes place and then… Well, I guess we'll see, won't we? In any case…" Continued Snape, ignoring Harry's expression. "It turns out is not only basic potions that they need. Greyback, like I mentioned before, joined by some of his werewolf friends, caused havoc in the magical population. Saint Mungo's is now overwhelmed with patients that claim to have been bitten by them. And more showed up after the last full moon."

A look of understanding crossed Harry's face.

"Is that why you wanted these ingredients then? To brew Wolfsbane for all of them? But, no, wait…" He corrected himself. "Wolfsbane is not made with hair nor bones from a werewolf. Then why-"

"You are right, Potter. Wolfsbane is made with many ingredients, none of them being anything that pertains to a werewolf. Normal Wolfsbane, that is." Snape smirked, waiting for Harry to catch up.

The boy's eyes widened, starting to understand.

"Wait…" He said, not daring to hope. "Are you telling me, sir, that you have created an improved version of the potion?"

Snape's smile widened, and Harry could see a spark of pride in his features.

"I still need to test it more, but I think I've made a breakthrough." He told him. "That's the little project that I said you could help me with."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing; his lips curved into an astonished smile. And here he had almost accused Snape of killing werewolves when he was trying to help them.

"But… But, sir, this is-"

"Don't get your hopes up, Potter. Like I said, I still need to test it more. But the fact that so many new patients showed up in Saint Mungo's, a lot of them being from rich, influential families, means that the magical community can't ignore the problem anymore. The funding to be used in research has increased, as well as the willingness to share the knowledge on the topic. It was precisely through comparing notes with the few potioneers left, and with the healers that treat these patients, that I got the idea of using werewolf material." Snape explained. "It should create a more powerful potion that would need to be taken only once, the day before the full moon, instead of every day for a whole week. This will, of course, reduce the amount of brewing time and ingredients needed for every single werewolf, thus, reducing also the costs."

Harry heart was racing, full of hope and optimism. He thought about what Remus would say if he was there, the improvement that this could have meant for him, for all the other werewolves…

"Sir… Sir, this is…" Harry wasn't sure how to continue. He felt a knot in his throat and swallowed to remove it. "This is amazing. You will be able to help a lot of people."

Snape lowered his head, accepting the compliment.

"I still didn't inform anybody but you of my investigations. I don't want to get their hopes up, but… I have a good feeling about it. I'm pretty confident that it will work out." He then changed into what Harry considered his teacher persona. "Now, the next steps head of us are clear. In the coming days we will have to perform experiments using the two ingredients combined and also separately. In each of these scenarios, we will have to use a different range of concentrations, to see if the results change with the amount of material. As you can imagine, all these experiments will take quite a bit of energy and hours of our lives. Because of this, I will need you to be ready and fully focused, if you are to assist me." He paused, looking at him with those piercing black eyes. "Will you be up to the task, Potter?

"I will, sir." Said Harry solemnly. "I promise."

Snape nodded and suddenly the boy felt the need to say something else.

"You know, sir… I… I think this suits you."

Snape looked at him with curiosity in his eyes.

"What does?"

"This." Harry gestured vaguely. "Inventing things. Being creative with your magic. Like you did with… With the Half-blood Prince…" He lowered his gaze for a second, trying not to dwell in such a complicated topic that they still didn't fully discuss. "I remember all those changes you did to the potions, making them better, and the amazing new spells that were your own creation. That's something special. Not everyone is capable of such things. And I… I know we've been talking about my future, but I think we should also discuss yours." He then remembered who he was talking to, a fully grown Snape, not a sixteen-year-old student, and added: "Sir. I mean if… if you want to, of course. But I… I do think that you should explore this inventing side more. You could improve many lives and you are great at it and… I don't know…" He said, embarrassed. "It was just an idea…"

The Potions Master looked at him for a few seconds in silence. Then, when Harry's cheeks were starting to burn and he thought that Snape wasn't going to answer, he said:

"I … I actually think you could be right, Potter."

"Really?"

"Really." Nodded Snape. "To tell you the truth, I never stopped tinkering and modifying potions or spells. I just focused on what I thought could be useful for the war or for my role as a spy."

"Well," Started Harry, buzzing with excitement at seeing that Snape seemed to agree with him, "now you can do so much more than that. It could become part of your job, like those university teachers."

The Potions Master's raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Eh… I guess you know what universities are right?" Asked Harry, to which Snape nodded. "Good… Well, the thing is… I just thought that, just like the professors there, you could do the same thing at Hogwarts. You could give lessons and also do research."

Snape lips curved into a small smile.

"Are you planning on overworking me to death, Potter?"

"What? No! I just meant that… Well, forget it. It was just a thought."

Harry lowered his gaze, but a weird sound coming from in front of him made him look up again. His eyes opened in astonishment when he noticed what that noise had been. It seemed impossible, but it had almost sounded like a little chuckle. A chuckle. Coming from Snape. The boy blinked a few times, not quite believing his ears.

"I was merely teasing you, Potter." The Potions Master said, and for a second, he himself seemed surprised at what he had done. "Without a Dark Lord to spy on, and without a rule-breaking, obtuse teenager to keep safe… I think I could manage to do both things." He then looked at Harry with a hint of curiosity. "You have thought quite a bit about my future, haven't you?"

The boy shrugged, trying to act casual.

"Not just yours. I have wondered about what everyone would do this coming year. I know McGonagall will stay as headmistress. And I don't need to ask Hermione to know that she will want to come back for her seventh year. But anyone else… It's a mystery." Harry hoped that those words would be enough to keep the Potions Master from asking further questions and getting the truth out of him. The fact that he had, indeed, thought about what Snape would do many many times. He didn't know if the Potions Master would rather move away from Hogwarts and his teaching position, but Harry had selfishly hoped that he would stay at the castle. At that home that they both shared. At the place where their relationship had changed and grown. Where they could keep having tea together, talking about anything that they wanted, where Snape could keep tutoring him on Potions, where Harry could see him every day…

Luckily for him, Snape nodded and didn't insist.

"Well," He said instead, "I imagine most people will want to wait until the trials are over, until things calm down a little, to make any decisions regarding their future. Which reminds me…" He said, pointing at him with one long finger. "That we have completely strayed off topic. And that you haven't asked me anything else about Borgin's."

"Yeah, well…" Harry said, taken off guard by the sudden change in the conversation. "The whole Wolfsbane situation distracted me."

"Understandable." Said Snape.

The silence fell between them once more and Harry bit his lip nervously. He was aware that the easy, simple topics were over. But he still wasn't sure how to approach the subjects in front of him. He thought about what Borgin had said, that the Death Eaters were escaping, that it was over, that he wouldn't have to fear again for his life. He knew that Snape would be able to tell him if those words had been true or not. But, suddenly, he was afraid about his possible answer. In a weird, strange way, he wasn't sure what would scare him more. The fact that Borgin was lying, and that there were still some enemies to fight, some battles to survive… Or that he was telling the truth and that there was nothing left to do but picking up the pieces and learning to live a normal, happy life.

Snape cleared his throat and Harry blinked, waking up from the trance he had entered in. He noticed that he had been sitting still, looking at his empty place, while the seconds passed and those thoughts swirled around his brain.

"Potter, aren't you…?" Snape began. "I mean, why haven't you…?" He paused for a few seconds and then tried again. "You… You don't seem, eh, curious or, let's say, eager to ask anything else. And I… I think I know why."

Harry frowned, had Snape read his mind? Had he seen in his eyes those doubts, those fears about Borgin's information? Was that why his voice sounded strange?

"Potter." Snape said, and Harry could hear it again. It was a weird, uncharacteristic sound. Something similar to… nervousness?

"Sir?"

Snape averted his gaze and Harry sensed it again, not only in his voice, but also in the atmosphere. The mood had suddenly changed from before. Now it felt delicate, tense, like glass that could break at any second. Harry didn't understand.

"You… Eh…" Snape started, looking uncomfortable. "When we were at… At Borgin's…" His eyes moved away from Harry's face, focusing on a particular interesting point on the wall behind his head. "You looked… You seemed… scared."

Harry frowned again, even more confused than before. Was that what was making Snape uncomfortable?

"Scared?" Was all he could say.

"Yes." The professor said, forcing his gaze to fall back onto the boy. "When I was… When I was asking him questions."

"Oh." Harry didn't say anything else, and an awkward silence fell between them. A small part of the boy noticed that it had been some time since that had happened. Lately, they always had something to talk about and their conversations flowed smoothly. What was going on?

"Were you?" Asked Snape, almost tentatively.

"Was I scared?" Harry met his eyes, not understanding. The Potions Master seemed concerned about it, which didn't make any sense. Since when had Snape worried about scaring anyone? It had been his favorite pastime, terrifying students. He had almost fed on it for the last seven years that Harry had known him.

"Yes, Potter." Sighed Snape, clearly trying not to lose patience.

"Well, I guess... I guess a little but-"

"Were you worried that I had suddenly reverted to my old ways?"

"W-what?"

"That I had fooled you? That I was still loyal to the Dark Lord?"

Harry looked at him in disbelief. So that was why Snape was feeling nervous? Because he thought Harry had doubted him? He contained the urge to sigh. The Potions Master could be so smart about some things and so blind about others.

"No, of course not." He hastened to say, shaking his head. "I know you are on our side. Why would I-?"

"You were scared to death, Potter." Snape cut him off. "You don't need to lie to-"

"I'm not lying." He said firmly. "And, yes, I was scared. But not for the reason you think."

Snape looked at him skeptically.

"Then why?"

"Well…" Started Harry. "You are scary. I wouldn't want to face you when you are like that. But in the same way that I didn't want to be Neville when he messed up in your class. It had nothing to do about me doubting you. Not after seeing your memories. Not after-"

"Memories can be altered." Snape said, though his expression had softened. He no longer showed as much nervousness as before. And the tense atmosphere had also dissipated somewhat.

"Not like that." Said Harry firmly. "Also, why would you lie? Back in the Shrieking Shack, you thought you were going to die. You had nothing to gain from giving me those memories. Besides," He added, seeing that Snape wanted to reply, "all those things that you did these last seven years, all those times that you saved my life… They wouldn't make sense if you weren't on our side."

"But-"

"And that is without mentioning everything that has happened this last month. I doubt you would have come to Remus' and Tonks funeral, talked to me, if you were on the Death Eaters side." Snape continued to look at him, still unconvinced, so Harry added: "And, besides, if you had wanted to kill me, you could have done that a thousand times while we were alone in your laboratory. A small Potions incident and, puff! No more Harry Potter." He smiled a little, gesturing with his hands, but Snape didn't find it funny. He was still looking at him, his brow frowned.

"I don't understand, Potter." He said, the confusion clear on his face. "You say you didn't doubt me. That you weren't scared about that. But there was something else in your face. It wasn't just fear...You looked... Disgusted, almost."

It was obvious that Snape was uncomfortable asking him about it, but also that he needed to hear the answer. And, although Harry would have preferred not to have to share his thoughts and emotions in this way, he knew that, if the professor had insisted, it was important to him.

"Well…" He started. "I guess I just… I just didn't like seeing you in 'Death Eater mode'. Not because I doubted you or anything." He added quickly. "But because… Because it reminded me of everything you had to do. As a spy I mean. And thinking about it… It made me sad." Confessed Harry. "It made me mad and disgusted. And I know. I know that life isn't fair." He said, reminding Snape of a sentence he had said long ago, during his Occlumency sessions. "But it should have been fairer to you."

Harry finished speaking, suddenly feeling very tired. He looked up to meet Snape's gaze. The man looked uncomfortable, as he usually did whenever he spoke of emotions or showed vulnerability, but also relieved. He cleared his throat and, in his deep, soft voice, said:

"I... appreciate your words, Potter. I am glad that my... performance at Borgin and Burkes did not cause you to doubt or rethink certain things. However," He added with a frown, "what you said... about how life should have been fairer to me... I must disagree. My life has been the product of my choices. Of my actions and my poor decisions. Everything I have had to endure as a result of my role in this War… It is nothing. Nothing compared to what I have done. To all the pain I have caused. And you should know that better than anyone."

Harry swallowed. He remembered finding out about Snape's involvement in his parents' deaths, and how much he had hated him in that moment. He had screamed at Dumbledore about it, anger pulsating through his veins, not understanding how the old man could trust Snape after knowing what he had done. Now, however, thinking about it, Harry couldn't feel one drop of hate inside him, not one bit of rage. He just felt sadness and a deep pain in his chest at the thought of how different things could have been. He could see the possibilities, the other roads that could have been taken. If only… If only his dad and Sirius hadn't targeted Snape, making his life at Hogwarts a living hell, pushing him into the Dark Arts, into that need to feel powerful and never afraid again … If only the Potions Master had been more honest with Lily, showing her how important she was for him, and how lost he felt without her, alone in the middle of Slytherin, where it was easier to fall for Voldemort's persuasive message… If only he had been stronger, not listened to the Dark Lord's siren's call, to the older students, to his own hatred for muggles, reflecting his anger at his father… If only… So many horrible things could have been avoided if only… But there was no point in thinking about almosts, about what could have happened… Down that road only madness could be found. And Harry had learned that no matter how much he wanted it, the past could not be changed.

With a deep sigh, he looked up at Snape and said.

"Sir, I…"

"There is nothing you can say that will change my mind, Potter. What I did… I will regret it until the day I die. And no matter how many Dark Lords I help defeat… It will never be enough."

Harry was silent for a few seconds, seeing the pain and self-hatred in Snape's face. He tried to find a way of making him see that, even if his mistakes could never be erased, after everything that he had done to atone for them he didn't need to keep suffering for the rest of his life. Quietly, he said:

"I won't try to convince you. I know you won't listen to me. But I do believe that, after everything, you deserve some sort of peace. Of happiness, even."

The Potions Master avoided his eyes, but Harry could see his throat moving, showing that those words had reached him.

"And" He added, "I hope that, with time, you are able to obtain them."

And it was that thought, that image of Snape living a calm, peaceful life, away from pain and fear, maybe with Harry as part of it, which gave him the strength he needed to ask the question he had been delaying for the last hour.

"Which takes me back to… To what Borgin told you." Harry said, his heart beating hard in his chest. "Such a life would be easier to obtain if… If what he said was true."

The expression on Snape's face showed surprise at that sudden change in the conversation. He blinked a few times, trying to recover from that last show of emotions.

"What he said…" Continued Harry. "About the Death Eaters giving up. About them not trying to get revenge or their power back… I mean, it sounds too good to be true." The boy met Snape's gaze. "Right, sir?"

"It does." The man agreed. "But, for once, it is true."

Harry's heart skipped a bit.

"What? I mean, are you sure, sir? How can you know for certain?"

"I looked into Borgin's eyes and saw it." Said Snape, raising in his chair, clearly relieved to be in control of the conversation once again. "He has never been a good Occlumens, and he was way too terrified to try to hide anything from me. If his rumors are true, and everything seems to indicate that they are… We shouldn't have to face a threat from the Death Eaters ever again. Which makes sense, considering that only a few managed to escape and that, now that everybody knows who they are, they have no means to obtain external support or gain power again…"

Harry nodded slowly, feeling Snape's eyes on him.

"Do I detect a hint of disappointment in your face, Potter?" Snape said, one eyebrow raised. "What is it? Do you wish you could have defeated them too, like you did with the Dark Lord? Are you upset that you won't have to fight them? That there is no more glory to be obtained?"

Harry frowned, offended.

"I'm not disappointed." He said. He knew that Snape was just trying to provoke him so that he could get the truth out of him. But still. He looked away from those dark eyes, as reality settled in. It was a strange thing to process. To know that he was, after all this time, finally free. Finally safe. Finally, without any clear path ahead of him, nothing to keep him going. No purpose... Was this how Snape had felt when Dumbledore had told him that Harry needed to die? Or, later, when he had woken up in the infirmary and found out that Voldemort was dead? Had it felt as surreal, as strange, as impossible?

"Potter." Snape called out to him. "Are you still here?"

Harry snapped out of it.

"Yes."

"Good. Then, if you are not disappointed… What is going on inside your head? Why do you have that expression on your face?"

Harry sighed, half annoyed at Snape's ability to read him and half relieved that he was asking about it.

"I'm not upset that we won't have to fight them." He told him, with a warning look. "These are good news, really."

"But…?"

"But… I don't know. I can't really explain it. It just feels… Weird? To be safe. To know that, from now on, it will just be just me and the future. Me and… And whatever I want it to be. Sorry." He said quickly. "I'm not making any sense. And, if I am, I probably sound like a spoiled brat. I know that so many people have died to reach this point, but I-"

"I don't think your reaction is that of a spoiled brat, Potter." Snape said, surprising him. "And I do think you are making sense."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. You will find this surprising but, your experiences, are not unique in the entire world. There are other… survivors, for lack of a better word, that will probably feel the same way as you are doing right now."

Or, in other words, thought Harry, with a jolt of emotion, Snape felt the same way too. That was why he understood.

"I see." He said.

"It will get easier with time, I'm sure." Snape told him. "Your body and mind need to get used to not living in constant survival mode, that's all. And, about the future… You will have to deal with it like everybody else. But you will manage."

Harry nodded, more calm that before. But then Snape added something that made his heart speed up again.

"And all this talk about the Death Eaters and the future… Reminds me of the last topic that I wanted to discuss with you. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't brought it up before… But, well, here we are."

"Sir?" Asked Harry, knowing the answer.

"The Malfoys." Said Snape, looking directly at him.

And, when their eyes met, Harry knew immediately why that topic had scared him so much. He understood the Potions Master more than he had ever done, but his relationship with the Malfoys was still a mystery to him. Which part of their interactions had been real? And which hadn't? He knew that some of them had been part of Snape's role, of his Death Eater act, but he was also aware that some of those feelings must have been true. He had taken the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco, after all. And, once the War was over, Snape had seemed upset the few times that the Malfoys had been mentioned. What would happen then? If Harry wouldn't want to testify in their favor? Would the Potions Master force him to do it anyway? Who would he want to protect in that scenario? Him? Or the family who he had been closest to during the last twenty years? Who would Snape's priority be if it came to Harry versus them? And if, instead, the boy wanted to help Narcissa and Draco avoid prison? Would Snape agree with that choice? Or would he think that his sacrifices, his many years playing a spy weren't the same as two small lies said because of fear? Would he think that the whole family deserved to be sent to Azkaban then? And what would-

"Potter." Snape voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, shattering them. "Is everything okay?"

Harry blinked. Though he hadn't noticed, he had been looking into Snape's eyes all this time. He lowered his gaze and blushed. Had the man been able to read his thoughts as easily as he had Borgin's?

"I'm okay." He said quickly.

"You don't seem okay."

"Well, I am." Harry replied, stubbornly.

For a moment it seemed that Snape was going to throw him one of his usual sarcastic comments. But he stopped himself in time. Then he sighed slowly and gently, softly, said:

"Look, Potter. I… You don't need to worry."

"About what?" Asked Harry dreading the answer.

"About the Malfoys. My… My feelings in the matter… They are, let's say, complicated. It is true. But you…"

So he had read inside his mind then, thought Harry with embarrassment. Great.

"Sir, I-"

"No, Potter. Listen to me. It's important."

Harry swallowed, still not looking up, and Snape added:

"Look at me."

The boy took a deep breath and, summoning all his courage, forced his eyes to meet Snape's.

"I want you to listen to me carefully." He said, his dark gaze locked on Harry, enunciating every word. "You're going to do what you want. Whatever you decide. And I will support you in your choice, no matter what it is."

Harry opened his mouth in surprise, forgetting his embarrassment for the moment, and Snape took the opportunity to continue speaking:

"I just wish to understand… Why would you even consider helping them? Lucius has been one of the most prominent Death Eaters for the past two decades. His wife has supported him every step of the way… And you and Draco have hated each other from the first moment you met. What has changed? Why on earth did Borgin think that you would testify on their behalf?"

"I... I told Kingsley and Mr. Weasley about some things that happened during the War." Harry said, remembering. He had almost forgotten about that conversation. The memories of those first few days after defeating Voldemort were hazy and blurry. "Things Narcissa and Draco did. I guess they must have shared that information with other people in the Ministry which then spread until it reached Borgin."

Snape nodded slowly.

"That makes sense." He said. "About how he obtained the information, I mean. But what did Narcissa and Draco do that could make you change your mind about them?"

Harry bit his lip. He dreamed about the War and what had happened almost every night. But saying it out loud was different. He breathed in, trying to decide where to start.

"Well... In Draco's case, it all started with his behavior that night... in the Astronomy Tower."

He had avoided saying 'the night that Dumbledore died', but Snape understood. A spark of pain flickered in his eyes.

"Go on." He said.

"I... I could tell that his heart wasn't on it. He looked terrified. And he had lowered his wand before… Before it happened..." Harry swallowed. "And then, a few months ago, when we were at Malfoy Manor..." He took a deep breath, not wanting to reminisce about the horrors that had happened there. "Well, it's a long story… But when they captured us, Hermione cast a stinging curse on me so I wouldn't get recognized so easily. It worked, because neither the Snatchers nor Lucius were sure if it was really me. And they weren't going to risk summoning Voldemort without making sure first."

Snape's eyes were on him, and Harry wondered how much he knew of that story. Slowly, with images of that day swirling inside his mind, the boy told him what had happened. How Draco had been unable, or unwilling, to identify him.

"He said he wasn't sure." He explained. "But it was obvious that he knew it was me all along. And then, when he was asked to identify Ron and Hermione, he did the same thing." Seeing that Snape still hadn't said anything, he added, "I don't know… It may not seem like much, but... But I think it was all he could do in that situation. And it led me to believe that, just like in the Astronomy Tower, he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to do those things."

He looked up at Snape, trying to read his expression. The Potions Master had cocked his head to one side, as one does when trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

"I see." He said. "Is that all?"

Harry frowned. Did Snape have nothing to say to what he had just told him?

"No. There's more." He said anyway. "During the Battle we came face to face with him, as well as with Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe kept trying to hex us, but Draco told him several times to stop. He justified himself saying that Voldemort wanted me alive but… I don't know…"

Then, needing to hear Snape's thoughts, the reassurance that only the man sitting in front of him could give, he asked:

"Sir… Do you think I'm imagining things? That I'm seeing more than what actually happened?"

Snape ran a finger across his lower lip, thinking.

"I can't tell you what to believe, Potter. It is possible that Draco wasn't trying to protect you. That he simply didn't recognize you or your friends. Such things can happen when the brain locks up in times of stress. And it is also possible that, as he told Crabbe, he just wanted to keep you alive for the Dark Lord..."

"It's possible." Agreed Harry. "But you don't believe that."

"No." Snape told him. "I don't."

Harry nodded, relief crossing his face at those words.

"So, you think Draco was trying to help me?"

"I do…" Said Snape softly. "But Potter... As I told you before, I don't want to influence your choice. I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"I know, but-"

"If what Draco did is enough to save him from Azkaban... That's only for you to decide."

"But why? Why should it be me?"

"Who else? Who else knows everything that he has done better than you?"

Harry swallowed, feeling the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders. Seeing his reaction, Snape added:

"But you don't have decide here, now. You will have time to think about it. At least until the trial takes place. If you want my suggestion... I would get all the information on the table, get all the facts out, before considering any outcome."

"Sir?"

"Narcissa." Said Snape. "Borgin mentioned her too."

"Yes." Nodded Harry.

"What did she do? How did she help you?"

Harry took a deep breath, remembering. Images flashed through his mind... the forest, Hagrid yelling at him to run away, the green light of the Avada Kedavra illuminating his closed eyelids, before everything went dark. Then, the white and clean train station, Dumbledore's face smiling at him and, finally, the cold, humid earth against his cheek. He thought about Narcissa's hands on him, checking his pulse, and her hair hiding his face as she asked about Draco.

"She… She lied to Voldemort." Harry said, causing Snape to look at him in surprise. He then began explaining what had happened, as the man's expressions changed from hidden unease at hearing how Harry had been hit with the killing curse, to curiosity when he mentioned how Voldemort had fallen to the ground too. When he finally reached Narcissa's lie, Snape said:

"Why do you think she did it?"

"¿Lie? Well, I'm guessing that she didn't do it to help me. She just wanted to find Draco, to make sure he was alive. And she knew that, if the fight went on, she wouldn't be able to reach the Castle safely."

Snape nodded.

"Yes, I think that is a correct assumption. At that point, both her and Lucius couldn't care less about the Dark Lord. About whether he lost or won. They just wanted to keep their family safe."

Harry remembered the three of them, sitting on a bench in the Great Hall after everything was over, just holding each other.

"Do you think…" He started, unsure. "Is it possible that they have rejected their blood purity views? After everything that has happened?"

It took Snape a few moments to answer.

"I… I don't think so, Potter. Lucius and Narcissa's beliefs are deeply ingrained on them. They have both grown up thinking that they are practically royalty, that their pureblood status makes them better than everyone else. It will take time for them to unlearn those things they once believed to be fundamental truths. If they ever will completely… But I am sure that, if a Dark Wizard were to rise again, they wouldn't support him. Not like before. They know now what they could lose. And they won't risk it."

Harry bit his lip.

"What about Draco?"

"His upbringing is the same as his parents. But he is still young. And he has suffered a lot." Snape sighed. "And that suffering has come at the hands of his Master, not those he once considered inferior to him. I think it is possible that he could learn the error of his ways."

"Just like you did." Harry said softly.

Snape looked at him for a few seconds.

"Just like I did." He said finally.

Harry nodded to himself. Throughout his conversation with Snape, an idea had been forming in his head. The only way that he would be sure of what to do.

"Okay." He said. "I want to go see them."

"Excuse me?"

"The Malfoys." Said Harry. "I want to see them. Talk to them. Before I can make a decision."

Snape was looking at him with surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"I am. It's just… Well, they are on house arrest, right? So that might be a bit of a problem. I don't think the Ministry allows them many visitors."

The surprise on Snape's face was still there, but a hint of amusement had joined it now.

"I don't think you are aware of the fact that you are Harry Potter." He said, and Harry could see annoyance in his expression, but less than there once would have been. "You could ask them to build you a gold castle and they would do it, for Merlin's sake…"

Harry's face reddened.

"I wouldn't ask them to-"

"I know, Potter." Snape sighed. "The point is that you could. Just tell Kingsley what you want to do. I am sure there won't be a problem. In fact, I'm guessing he will personally open the doors of the Manor for you."

Harry's cheeks were still on fire, and Snape's words weren't helping, but he felt more confident on his request. Holding onto that sensation, he said:

"Okay. I will ask him as soon as I can. But there is something else."

"Of course, your majesty." Snape said with sarcasm.

Harry ignored him and added:

"I want you to come with me."

The moment he heard those words, the sarcastic expression left Snape's face.

"Potter…" He said. Harry saw a hint of fear and worry in his eyes, but also something that he could only describe as longing. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"You going there is one thing, but me… I am a former Death Eater; it would look like I'm trying to conspire with them. To free them, even."

"It won't." Said Harry firmly. "Kingsley believes in your innocence, as do most of the Aurors."

"What about the Malfoys?" Asked Snape. "I don't think they will be too happy to see me…"

"How can you be sure?"

Snape raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Have you forgotten about my betrayal of the Dark Lord?"

"I haven't, but they betrayed him too." Replied Harry. "You said it yourself that they didn't care whether he won or lost."

"That's true but-"

"Don't you want to see them?" Said Harry, cutting him off. "After everything that has happened?"

Snape tensed at those words and Harry held his breath. The last time that he had tried to tell the man what to do, it hadn't gone too well. But the Potions Master simply sighed, as that spark of longing appeared again in his eyes.

"Potter…"

"They might not even know that you are still alive." Added Harry. "I doubt they are receiving too much information from the outside world. And, besides, I'm worried that their pride is going to get in the way. That they'd rather go to prison than try to convince me to testify on their behalf. And seeing you could make them more open to talk to me."

"Is that why you want to go there?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "So they can convince you?"

"No. That's not what I meant." Said Harry rapidly. "I want to hear what they have to say. Look at their faces and see if I can trust them, even if just a bit…" He saw Snape's expression and added: "I'm not naïve, I know we won't hug and hold hands and live happily ever after. But I want to make sure that I've gathered all the information I can before deciding whether to send them to prison or not. And I think it would be easier if you came with me."

Snape sighed again, though this time his face showed less resistance than before. Harry saw it and, knowing that he must not let the moment slip away, feeling victory at his fingertips, he added:

"Will you, sir? Please?"

Snape's eyes sought his own and there they were again: fear, worry, yes; but, attached to them, that spark of longing that had only grown while the minutes passed. He wanted to see them again. Harry knew it. And now all that was left was for the Potions Master himself to realize it. The boy could see the moment it happened, the change in Snape's face. And he knew, then, that he had convinced him.

"All right, Potter." He said slowly, with effort. "You win. I'll go with you."