Harry could not stop thinking about the events that transpired that night. Once he arrived home safely with Snape and assisted him with the potions he could now resume, he retreated back to his own room and sat on the edge of the bed in deep thought. Ron and Hermione were home waiting for him, but he didn't even have the willpower to usher a single word except for a single helpless look that told them more than they needed to know.

He felt terrible. What Snape assumed was pity; definitely wasn't.

Harry wished that there was a better way. What he saw – well, heard – was enough to freak him out. He realised now why no one was meant to be present for such a spell. To witness and hear the subject in torment and suffering, was not what Harry expected. Echoes of the man he knew with his usual controlled expression, succumbed to unimaginable pain and whatever else he was seeing. Visions? Hallucinations? He wasn't entirely sure, but they were most certainly giving Snape further grief.

But that wasn't what had Harry shocked to his core. Severus Snape broke down. He didn't have to see the man, to know that he was crying. That thought alone pulled at Harry's heart. Aside from seeing the man in deep despair in one of his memories, never did he actually dare to witness such a thing himself. Suddenly Harry didn't care much for his own shame of weeping in front of him several days ago, but this…this was different. How does one help a man like Snape?

Harry couldn't help but cry when he heard Severus pleading and begging for death. Hearing the man struggle like that, was simply too much for him to deal with. It was horrible and heartbreaking.

An armored man usually so fortified and unbreakable, began to slowly disintegrate. One by one, pieces of his armor began to fall away and Harry was there to witness it.

Harry spent a little too much time staring at the photo Snape had given him. He had since repaired it to its completed state with the other half, and he was even more mesmerized by the now-completed photo of his parents and himself as a baby. It was a small comfort but meant so much to him. Although, he was more shocked that it was Snape's decision to return it to him. He did feel like he was taking something so precious from the man, but he was right – it was never his to take. He wasn't mad at him. After all, it was finally returned.

Eventually, Harry allowed himself to finally drift off to sleep, hoping above all else he could have a peaceful night without his own nightmares.

He must have slept for far too long because he heard the distinguishable creek from his door and saw the silhouette of Hermione and Ron slowly enter his room. Harry shuffled in bed and leaned over to place his glasses onto his face, finally gaining a clearer view of his friends. Ron cautiously stayed by the door as Hermione approached him, and sat on the edge of his bed once she realised that he was awake.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione was deeply concerned.

Harry simply stared at her in defeat and hopelessness.

"What happened last night? You had as worried when you didn't say anything…"

Harry was saddened, "I don't really want to talk about it."

Hermione exchanged worried glances with Ron, and quickly turned her attention back to Harry, "…Did it work?"

"Given how horrible it was, I sure hope it did, " Harry swung his legs off the side of the bed and stared at the floor, still trying to come to terms with what he experienced.

Ron walked closer to the bed, and sat down beside Hermione, "I'm sure he can handle it. If he can face Voldemort square in the face and lie to him, then this would have been easy for him."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't wish this on anyone, Ron…" Harry ran his hand through his unkempt hair and looked at Hermione, "Why didn't you tell me what was going to happen? You and Snape seemed to have the same damn understanding, and I didn't."

"Woah, hang on mate, don't blame this on her – "

Hermione looked shocked, as she placed a hand on Ron's knee to silence him, "Harry – I couldn't have been sure what was going to happen. Only the ingredients which would have counteracted for the purpose of – "

"- What? Making him lose his marbles? Was that even a part of the incantation or just a simple side-effect?" Harry was growing frustrated.

"It was meant to happen. Did you not understand the purpose of the incantation?"

Harry threw his hands in the air, "It was only supposed to shift the curse. What else could it have been?"

Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief, "Harry, the incantation works in conjunction with the curse. The magic invoked, acts as…well, a judgment. Remember what Luna said about the moon's influence? The spell itself works as a…magical purge, for lack of a better term."

"…Judgement?" Ron raised his eyebrow.

Hermione nodded, "The spell calls upon the magic of a higher power to judge the individual until it deems it worthy of life or death. Each vision – or hallucination, or rather – is key in that decision-making. Once it concludes them worthy of life, the curse removal would be successful. If not, the curse will run its course as intended. As, well…punishment."

Harry looked confused, "So how are they judged? On history, or choices? Because neither of those is going to work in his favor, so it'll doom him for sure. How – "

"Harry, I really don't know. Surely it won't judge on past choices alone. Because in all honesty, we'd all be in trouble, " Hermione sharply inhaled, "The point is, it must consider his choices now in the present rather than past choices. His will to live must be a crucial factor. He must be hanging on because if he didn't, that spell would have deemed him unworthy. He's trying."

"I-I can't subject him to that again – " Harry was exasperated. It was torture. Actual torture and he felt bad about it.

"Blimey. It's no wonder no one bothers with a spell like that anymore, " Ron shook his head, with a look of disapproval, "It sounds brutal."

Harry crinkled his brow in worry, "…I suppose he knew what he was getting himself into."

Hermione was visibly upset, "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. Would you have wanted to proceed with it if you knew?"

"I don't think it matters now, does it? It's up to Snape now. I've given him reasons to…keep going. The rest is up to him, " Harry tapped his hands nervously against his leg, yet again, feeling useless.

"Not necessarily, " Hermione's voice wavered, "He's here because you encouraged him to. He's gradually realising that he doesn't have to pretend to be someone else now. You're helping him see that."

"Well, surviving the first phase of the incantation says a lot, doesn't it? He must have done something right, " Ron interjected.

Harry raised his eyebrow, "And here I thought you still detested him."

Ron shrugged, "Oh, I still do. But I also see that he is, well…changing? He's still bitter and infuriating, but your influence on him recently has seemed to bring out something else within him. Something we've never seen."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "He's not wrong. Not that I fancy comparing both, but Harry, you also did the same with Sirius. He spent twelve years locked up alone for a crime he didn't commit and knowing you were in his life after he escaped, made him…softer. Professor Snape may never fully get over what happened to him, but I'm sure he realises now that reconciliation can heal you both."

Ron snorted, "Don't let Snape hear you say that."

"What is he going to do? Take off house points?" Harry shrugged. Will he ever even want to return to Hogwarts?

Harry sighed heavily.

Ron stood up from the bed, "I'm going downstairs. Kreacher is making lunch."

"You know, I really think you should free Kreacher, Harry, " Hermione said, disapprovingly.

"I offered it to him, but he wants to stay. What else was I going to do? Besides, this is still Order headquarters. Still might be risky," Harry responded, standing up to join Ron.

Hermione flicked her hair over her shoulders, irked by the comment, as she followed the other two out of the room. The trio slowly made their way downstairs, where they were overwhelmed with pleasant smells of fresh vegetable pasties and shepherd's pie wafting throughout Grimmauld Place. Harry's stomach grumbled. He barely remembered the last thing he ate. He vaguely recalled eating half of his pancakes the previous morning, but due to the nervousness, the rest of that day likely didn't attempt to eat anything else. While Hermione and Ron continued to the kitchen, Harry decided to make a quick stop to check up on Snape. It didn't hurt to check, considering how things turned out for him overnight. Now that he was back using proper potions to manage his symptoms, at least it will be less likely to dampen his mood. Besides, he also realised he hadn't eaten anything for two days.

Harry gently knocked on Snape's bedroom door, and when he heard a disapproving grumble on the other end, he pushed open the door to peek his head inside. Snape wasn't in bed, or rather, sitting at the study desk scribbling away on a piece of parchment with his quill. He didn't look up when Harry entered.

"Just wanted to let you know that there is lunch downstairs. You are more than welcome to join us. Otherwise, I can get Kreacher to send something up – "

"I'll consider it, Potter."

Harry paused for a few moments, before nodding, "Err, okay." He stood there for a little while longer expecting him to say something else, but he didn't. "Are you – "

This time, Snape stopped what he was doing and turned to glare at Harry, "- I said I'll consider it."

Taking that as a hint, Harry left, shutting the door gently behind him. He had an inkling that he didn't want to be bothered – well, more so than usual – but given the events overnight, it was understandable. The man was often withdrawn and at this point, likely didn't want to face anybody else. Snape looked exhausted and wary. It was no wonder given the psychological torture he had to endure overnight.

Harry made his way down the stairs and finally entered the kitchen, noticing Ron already tucking into the food spread on the table. Harry slid into the chair across from Ron in the center of the table and immediately reached for the pitcher of juice in front of him. He was almost tempted to go straight for the bread and butter pudding first, but the pasties looked incredibly delicious.

Harry began to help himself to the food, and hastily bit down on a pasty, "So, heard much from the rest of the DA?"

Ron shook his head, "Nah. Well, except for Angelina. She and George are kind of a thing now."

"I knew that already."

Ron's eyebrows were raised to his hairline, "You know? How? I only just found out!"

"Honestly, Ron – " Hermione tried to stifle a laugh, "You're a little slow."

"You too? Well, it's not exactly at the forefront of my mind these days, you know."

"George told me about it the other day when I went to see Ginny. He says they aren't officially together, " Harry scooped up a serving of Sheppard's pie, and added it to his plate, "She's been there for him since…losing Fred. I can't imagine him rushing into it."

"Why am I always the last to know these things?" Ron spoke, a little gloomily upon the mention of Fred.

"Maybe because you've been avoiding actually talking to him?" Hermione added, refilling her goblet with juice. The three of them fell silent.

Harry glanced at Ron, as his heart sunk, "Ron – "

He noticed Ron looked rather miserable all of a sudden and watched as he placed down his cutlery. The mood had suddenly turned grim and Harry felt terrible that he never asked him about how he was dealing with everything. Ron had been so focused on Hermione and helping Harry with Snape's situation, that he didn't even stop to consider how one of his best mates was feeling.

Harry felt like an absolute idiot.

Ron's eyes shifted to each of them as he lowered his head, "What do I even say to him? We lost our brother a month ago. And we nearly lost Ginny. Nothing I say will make a bloody difference. Our family will never be the same again."

Hermione placed her hand on Ron's, now upset, "George needs you too, Ron. You need each other, especially now. Just…reach out to him. Please."

"He'll appreciate you being there, Ron. Just don't keep avoiding him. You have to face him at some point, " Harry offered, but really didn't know what else to say.

Ron frowned, "Yeah, easy for you to say. You don't have siblings."

"RON!" Hermione gasped.

Ron pulled his arm away from Hermione, looking hurt. "George isn't the only one struggling. Being home at the Burrow makes me depressed. Mum still cries half the time, and I haven't got a clue what to bloody do – Ginny is usually with her. Dad has been working endlessly, which is his way of coping. Same with Percy. Bill and Charlie tend to disappear, and how come they don't get scolded for it?!"

"Ronald, please…"

"What – else – do – I - do?!" Ron finally buried his head in his hands.

Hermione looked stricken, as she glanced at Harry helplessly. She threw her arm around Ron's shoulders and held him for a few moments. Harry glanced away, not wanting to intrude on their little moment of intimacy. He listened as Hermione murmured words of comfort to him.

Yeah, Harry definitely felt like an idiot.

Lowering his voice, Harry looked at his friend sympathetically, "Ron, I know I could never fully understand, but…Hermione's right. You can't keep avoiding him. Right now, George probably thinks everyone has abandoned him because he knows everyone is walking on eggshells around him."

Head still buried in his hands, Ron nodded and responded with a muffled voice, "What do I even say to him?"

"Just be with him, Ron. Everyone grieves in different ways and I know you haven't really talked about it at all since…" Hermione started to become teary-eyed, "…Just, reach out to him."

Ron slowly raised his head, and Harry could see that his eyes were red. "…I...I just really miss Fred."

"…We miss him, too, " Hermione spoke softly, "W-would you like me to go with you?" Ron looked helplessly at Hermione and simply nodded without a word. She glanced over at Harry.

Harry gently shook his head, "You guys can go. It wouldn't do you any good if I were there. I'll be fine here… " He rose up from the table and began to put some lunch together for Snape upstairs, who obviously didn't feel up to joining them. He withdrew his wand and placed a warming charm on the food. He nudged his head upwards. "I don't want to return one day and find him sprawled on the floor again. He can't – "

Hermione frowned, "- He can't, what?"

…Right. The others don't know about his magic. Nope, let's keep it between Snape and I for now.

He shook his head, "Nothing, it's fine."

Harry picked up the tray of food and made his way upstairs to deliver the meal to Snape, hoping he was at least well enough to eat something. There was no point accompanying Ron and Hermione, as it wasn't really his place to go with them. A part of him felt awkward enough and there wasn't a person Harry knew who wasn't grieving. Some could hide it well, others could not. And some never really stop grieving, as with the man occupying the bedroom on the second floor. He heard the front door close and knew that both of his best friends had left. As he reached Snape's door, he fumbled with the tray about to knock, but Snape bet him to it and pierced the silence with his deep, reverberating voice.

"You may enter – "

Harry opened the door and slipped inside the surprisingly sun-lit room, and placed the tray of food beside Snape, who was still scribbling away at his desk, "…I figured you'd be hungry."

Snape looked up from the parchment to glance at the food, eyeing it curiously, "Thank you, Potter."

"You know you can stop calling me Potter. We're…not at Hogwarts anymore," Potter responded calmly, as he took a perch in the spare seat beside him, "I know you've said my first name a few times to get my attention, but…why keep doing it?"

Snape pursed his lips, thoughtfully, "Because there is a…sense of attachment with the use of a first name."

"That's not always a bad thing, is it?"

"Attachment would have made my job far more difficult, Potter. I had to be distant. You know that."

"Yeah, but that was then. You're not working for him anymore, " Harry tilted his head, observing the man carefully.

Snape paused, furrowing his brow as he stopped writing. Harry couldn't quite notice what the man was working on, but he could see multiple rolls of used parchment piled together on the opposite side of the desk. He hesitated, placing the quill back on its holder, and turned to face the Gryffindor as he leaned back in his chair. It was the first time since Harry had really seen his face since the commencement of the incantation. He looked tired – which was really nothing new. But it was not just a physical kind of tired, but an emotional one. He was wary and likely still dealing with what he experienced the previous night. It wasn't something you could not easily erase from your mind, and Snape was likely still ashamed of himself for his break-down that neither of them had predicted would happen.

The Slytherin's dark eyes glistened, as his voice trembled ever so subtly, "Is that…what you prefer?"

Harry nodded, meeting the man's gaze with a small smile, "That would be great, sir. I mean, if you still feel awkward about it around the others, you can still call me Potter if that makes you feel better. But Harry would be fine by me."

"Very well…Harry, " The corner of Snape's mouth twitched into a subtle smile. Still a work in progress, "I gather within these faltering formalities, you expect to have the courtesy extended?"

Harry shrugged, rather sheepish, "Well until you get sick of me calling you sir or Snape…I guess Professor doesn't really still imply, does it?"

Snape snorted lightly, "I suppose it doesn't. Though, I am technically still your mentor. In a sense."

"So, do you really oppose me calling you…Severus?" Harry folded his arms over his chest, unsure of how amused or serious he should be about this discussion. Trust often does walk a fine line, "I figured it was time we, oh I dunno…Move past all that."

Snape tilted his head towards Harry, as his eyes softened, "Surely, it couldn't hurt." He drew in a deep breath, "Just…keep that between us. As of what you may have heard last night, or seen…"

Harry immediately shook his head, "I won't tell anyone. You'd be surprised by the things I don't share with the others."

Snape raised his eyebrow, "Is that so? And here I thought Gryffindors are usually so eager to spill their secrets."

"Definitely not this Gryffindor, " Harry shook his head again, "Besides, I figured it'll give you a chance to…move on. From everything."

Something flashed within the man's onyx eyes and Harry couldn't quite place it. He seemed taken aback, but his stoic expression masked anything that Harry could potentially uncover. He was good, he'd give him that. Although he couldn't help but feel the man struggle immensely with displaying his own emotions to others, hence why others would have been so easy to perceive him as heartless. Harry knew, more than anyone, the man was far from that. Snape still felt vulnerable and that showing his emotions were weak…But to Harry, they really weren't. There was an admirable quality in the man that Harry had come to know recently and he had every respect for him for trying to overcome all that he had endured. All those years of being seemingly emotionally rigid and withdrawn now gave him a chance to attempt to be relieved from that. But Harry could also see something else within him - a sense of calmness now. Perhaps his own breakdown came with a sense of release along with the tears he thought he could hide from him. Harry may not have seen them all fall, but he knew…He knew that they were released like floodgates. And oddly, it further connected them both.

It would have been liberating for him to finally…feel.

Snape looked grateful. Genuinely grateful, which didn't appear subtle this time.

Harry gently cleared his throat, "I was thinking – "

"Another one of your bright ideas?" Snape couldn't resist a smirk.

Harry chuckled, "Just hear me out." Alright, here goes nothing, "So, I had an idea, if you wanted to…Go with me to see my parents."

The color seemed to drain from Snape's face as he drew in a sharp controlled breath. He shook his head, "It would not be appropriate for me to be there. Surely you – "

"I know you may not want to go. But it's not for my benefit, but…more for yours, " Harry bit his lip, watching the uncertainty on the man's face, "I think it might actually be good for you to, well…talk to them."

Snape looked slightly upset, "I beg to differ. My presence would…Taint your mother's memory. I cannot be there."

"You are welcome to go without me there if it helps. You have my permission."

Snape looked away and focused his gaze upon the fawn and black-colored quill in front of him. "It will be most unwise."

"I just thought it might help. You know, to talk it out. To both of them. Think of it as closure."

"I'm not a ghost with unfinished business, Po - Harry, " Snape clenched his jaw, as he looked back upon Harry's pleading face. Well, it wasn't that far from the truth, was it?

"I'm not saying you are, but there are some things you have to let go of. For you to move on, " Harry lowered his head, "Look, I mean no disrespect or anything. You can take the Cloak with you if you choose to go. The offer is there."

"Do not dare patronize me, " Snape glared at Harry darkly, as he spoke softly. It was slightly unsettling.

Harry shook his head, with pleading eyes, "I'm not. Just, please consider it?"

Snape leaned forward, eyes slightly widened, "What could I possibly say? It won't fix anything!"

Harry paused to look upon the man who seemed to falter before him. He didn't mean to agitate him, and he realised it was a sensitive topic, but he meant well. Genuinely. He really wanted Snape to let go of those troubles even as a bit of a release. To hold onto the same pain for almost eighteen years had definitely taken its toll on him, and it was obvious that he had difficulty letting go. He didn't blame him of course. When you indirectly cause the death of someone you care about, of course, one will never completely get over it. Harry blamed himself for a lot of the deaths that had happened over the course of his life – Cedric and Sirius being some of many. But eventually,that grief lessens its chokehold, and it becomes less painful. It won't ever disappear, but letting some things go makes it easier to deal with.

"My parents are dead. They won't be able to respond, but…" Harry sighed deeply, "…Maybe they'll be able to hear you. With whatever kind of afterlife there is for wizards."

Snape flinched at the blunt remark, as he ran his hand down his pallid face, "This is absurd."

"The first time I spoke to my parents was through a damn mirror when I was eleven. You saw that memory. How's that for absurdity?"

"Enough."

But Harry stubbornly continued, "If I could do that, then you can talk to their graves – "

"- Enough!" Snape seemed to be trembling slightly, as he continued to stare at the Gryffindor with a warned finality.

Harry must have gone too far because he closed his mouth mid-speech and hung his head. He hoped a little too hard this time and by the man's reaction before him, maybe it was a bad idea. They both sat in almost deafening silence, as Snape was left seething and breathing heavily. He watched as the Slytherin suddenly clutched the edge of the desk and leaned forward looking several shades paler and wincing as if he was stung by something sharp. Snape shut his eyes tightly. Unsure of what he needed, Harry bolted from his chair and dashed to the bedside table, scrambling to collect an assortment of ready-made potions. He set them down on the desk in front of Snape.

"…W-what do you need?"

Snape couldn't get the words out, as he clasped the sides of the table tightly causing his knuckles to go white. The man grimaced painfully.

Pain it is, then. In his own panic, Harry quickly uncorked the analgesic potion and grabbed Snape's trembling hand to place the vial in his palm, "Here…Take this for the pain…"

Snape raised the vial to the lips and downed the concoction, accidentally spilling some down his robes in desperation. Harry hastily took the empty vial and waited until the potion took its effect. Snape was breathing heavily as he clasped onto the table desperately once more.

Oh, this is bad. What the hell do I do?! 

Feeling rather useless himself, he did the unthinkable and placed a reassuring hand on Snape's upper back holding it firmly in place. More so that he didn't keel over in front of him, but it gave him vague recollections of that night in the potion's lab downstairs, where Snape did the same to him to the shock of the both of them. Harry only hoped that a small bit of reassurance would help, even if it were only for a short while. Slowly and surely, the potion began to take effect, and Snape had managed to get his breathing under control. It took a little longer this time for that potion to work.

Harry was concerned, "…Looks like you'll need stronger potions."

Snape nodded, eyes still closed, as he still winced with the pain, "…It appears so." The man shakily reached up to his neck and it was then Harry realised his wound was bleeding yet again. "Bloody hell."

Snape gingerly rose from his chair and stumbled towards the bed, with Harry cautiously trailing behind. He watched as the Slytherin lowered himself down on the edge of the bed and sat there for a few moments to further compose himself. He withdrew his wand and flourished it over his bedside table, but all but a few strings of wool appeared. Snape growled under his breath.

Oh. Bandages.

Harry took out his own wand and conjured the bandages that Snape was trying to accomplish. He watched as he slowly unclasped some of the buttons of his usual suit and gently peeled off the blood-soaked bandage. This situation was no longer unfamiliar to them and Snape eventually felt a little more comfortable with the task at hand. He'd much prefer this way than being doted upon by multiple Healers every hour at St. Mungo's and he'd rather perish than end up in there anyway. So stubbornly, Harry had to adapt to tackling the wound at Grimmauld Place and away from prying eyes, or people that wanted him dead.

The wound itself was getting worse. It was already horribly large to start with, but over time the wound began to look more sickly as the poisonous remnants were essentially eating away at his flesh. It was enough to cause Harry's stomach to lurch and he was certain the portions of his lunch wouldn't hold for too long. The curse had grotesque complications. It was no wonder Snape had difficulty managing the pain. The blacked tendrils that Harry had seen a while ago around the wound, had now spread far worse than he feared. The curse had covered the entirety of one side of his neck and shoulder, while slowly edging down his pale chest. The bandage alone was larger than he remembered and some tendrils could be seen inching up to his jawline. His hair, and liking for tall collars, were luckily able to conceal it. But regardless, it was not a pretty sight.

With Harry's assistance, they were able to patch it up as best they could using a combination of a wound salve that Snape had created solely for this purpose and several potions used to decrease the inflammatory symptoms.

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled, hoping that would mean he can stop using Potter for a while, "When you feel up to it, I'll help you brew something stronger."

"At this point, a few shots of firewhiskey might work wonders instead, " Snape shifted in discomfort.

"Well, when this is all dealt with, we'll go have a few rounds of firewhiskey to celebrate."

Snape snorted lightly, "If the curse doesn't kill me first. What else is there to celebrate?"

"When you are cured, " Harry couldn't help but smirk, "And we can celebrate Vo…snake face…being toasted to oblivion. Enticing enough?"

Snape's eyes widened upon Harry's blaspheme response to their old enemy, but soon altered as he looked at Harry with an odd triumphant gleam in his eye, "You have yourself a deal."

"I'll leave you to it…Severus," There was an odd comfort in a first-name basis and Harry was pleased that they could finally come to a point where they could both agree on that.

With a grin, Harry decided to leave Snape alone for some peace away from the teenager and made his way downstairs to the kitchen to make himself a mug of tea that Snape seemed to get strangely addicted to. He had to wonder where the Slytherin was getting all of his herbal tea from as it seemed he had an endless supply of various assortment of them. After being a little too indecisive, he settled upon a comforting green tea and lemon blend, with a generous addition of honey, and made his way to the sitting room on the first floor. It was definitely a healthier alternative than relying on coffee to get him through the day.

Harry sat there awhile by himself and reveled in the silence that befell him. All that he could hear was the crackling fire beside him, which brought him a sense of warmth and comfort. Some time by himself was what he needed. After everything within the last few days regarding the Memorial and the first phase of the Anathema Excerptum spell, peace was what he needed. It was no wonder Snape was usually so antisocial – he didn't blame him at all. Being so focused on others takes a lot out of you and it was always necessary to take time alone so one didn't go too stir-crazy.

Upon Hermione and Ron's departure, Harry finally decided to change the sitting room up a little. He didn't exactly have a repertoire of renovation spells, nor was transfiguration really a strong suit of his, but he managed to change up the dreary dark wallpaper into a welcoming maroon color with gold trimmings, which uplifted the room almost immediately. He didn't do much in a way with the portraits except for cleaning the caking dust, but he did change the couches into something far comfier and new. He was still tempted to hang Gryffindor banners to friendly-smite Snape, but he decided against that. This was a public space and both would be sharing it, and he didn't think Snape would fancy sitting in a room filled with Gryffindor fanfare. He could almost picture the man in deep disgust. Smirking at the thought, the room already looked far better than it did. It was less dark and murky, and far brighter and comforting.

Eventually feeling a little enclosed within Headquarters, Harry decided to take a risk which sounded wonderful at the time. He made the daring choice to sneak out of Grimmauld Place and check out Honeyduke's Sweet Shop – which he had recently re-opened a few days prior according to the Daily Prophet – and bought himself an impressive supply of unhealthy treats, along with a quick stopover at Zonko's. He didn't fancy sticking around for too long, so he dashed back from Hogsmeade quickly. The village itself was eerily quiet and most of the other shop fronts were closed. There weren't many people around and those that were seemed too frightened to even leave their homes for a short amount of time. Hogsmeade had sadly lost its curious and delightful atmosphere and instead became rather dull and dreary. Harry felt slightly unnerved to be there.

As Harry turned to leave, he heard a scuffle in the alleyway beside one of the empty shopfronts. As curiosity got the better of him, he snuck down behind a small stone wall, cursing himself for not bringing the Cloak. Upon sitting incredibly still uncomfortably on his knees, he struggled to distinguish the voices around the corner.

"– What do you mean, you can't find him?"

"I'm not the only one who can't! It's like he…left. Completely."

"Oh, rubbish. He's around. Probably hiding somewhere like a fool."

"But he was seen, wasn't he? Merek told me so. They saw him. He's around, no doubt."

"We'll keep trying. The traitor needs to be punished. He thinks we're idiots!"

"I couldn't give a toss about him, Blaise – What about the dungeon bat?"

"Merek said he looked sick. I hope he keels over and finally meets his end."

"How's that for karma." The female voice scoffed.

"And here I thought you fancied him." There was a male chuckle.

"Yeah, when we thought he was on our side."

"Just, lay low okay, Pan? The others are planning something big. They'll sort this out. We can't let them get away with this."

"Sure, if I end up in Azkaban, I'm dragging you with me."

There was a collective snigger between the pair.

"I'll update you if I see anything worth noting. Otherwise, I'll keep an eye on that house."

"Seriously, be careful – "

"Yeah, we best not meet here again. We don't want to interfere."

Harry's body tensed. He clearly had heard enough. That seriously had him worried. Was that Pansy and Blaise? And who were they talking about? Draco or Snape? Both? Given the snippets he heard, someone had spotted Snape and noticed he was sick. Could it have been at the Quarry? Merek Selwyn – the Death Eater - maybe? He had far too many questions, but the thing that had him even most concerned was that they were being watched. They didn't specify. Could they have meant Grimmauld Place? Or somewhere else?

The thought alone sent shivers down his spine.

He had to get out of there. He had to tell the others. But if they had something against Draco, then was it possible that he had defected too? Completely? As with Snape, he was also a target. But why were they even at Hogsmeade? Harry didn't trust Draco, but if he was truly against the Death Eater regime now, then maybe he really did attempt to change. He needed to gather a meeting and further figure out what they were planning. Because as it stands, Draco must also be in trouble.

Harry did not waste time getting home and remain in the safety of its walls and magical shields. He stumbled back within Grimmauld Place, and he could hear voices talking on the floor above him.

"– Try again, Longbottom."

Poor Neville. Harry couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. Not that he ever really found it funny, but given their post-war and ex-Hogwarts situation, it was rather amusing that Snape would still be in lecture mode at any given opportunity. Even still. Given the man mentioned he never wanted to teach and despite his impatience and snarkiness most of the time, he was actually good at it.

"Aconitum napellus, from the family Ranunculaceae."

"Precisely. And how many segments does it typically have?"

"Five to seven."

"And where is the poison most concentrated?"

"The roots and seeds…sir."

"…Still giving Neville a hard time?" Harry bravely announced as he walked into the sitting room. Snape and Neville were sitting across from each other on the couches. A stack of Herbology books was piled onto the table between them. Snape must have walked in on Neville and proceeded to fire questions at him. From what he could hear on his way up, Neville was doing rather well, even if he had no clue what they were talking about. He always hated Herbology.

Snape glared at Harry dangerously, like a hawk, "Where have you been, Potter?"

Harry sat on the edge of the armrest, "We need to have a meeting. With the others. Urgently."

Snape tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes, "For what purpose? What did you see?"

"More like…what I heard, " Harry nervously wrung his hands within his lap, "I'll explain more when the others are here. Not the entire DA, just a few of us for now."

Neville looked concerned, as he stood up from his seat, "I'll go and get Luna."

Harry nodded, "Thanks, Neville." He watched as his friend immediately left the room, as he withdrew his wand. Summoning his stag Patronus, he sent a message to Hermione to come back right away with the others. He watched as the ethereal creature darted away and disappeared through the wall. He turned to Snape, who looked rather pleased.

"You've been practicing with sending your messages…Well done, " Snape responded, with a subtle smile.

"I learn best when you are not biting my head off, " Harry shrugged, "And don't think I'll forget that compliment."

"Don't push your luck."

Harry finally set down his haul from Hogsmeade – ignoring Snape's glaring protests – in his bid to uplift his mood upon his accidental eavesdrop. He tore open the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, and drew one blindly, before handing the box to Snape.

Yup. Testing my luck right now. Harry couldn't help but smirk.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the box that Harry had handed to him, and carefully took it. He stared at Harry and although he kept a straight face, his eyes flashed with amusement as he took a bean without looking.

"Before the others get here, " Harry grinned, as he ate his bean with a little too much confidence and regretted that immediately, "Gross. That was soap."

Snape snorted lightly, "That'll teach you to be less of an insufferable cheek." He eyed his own bean carefully and leaned in to take a sniff –

"– Hey no cheating!" Typical Potion Master habit.

Snape stopped before he could complete the task and raised his eyebrow, amused, "Slytherin virtue." He slipped the bean into his mouth and grimaced, "…Earthworm. "

"Well, aren't we a pair of unlucky sods."