“Although no one can go back and make a brand new start,
anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

Carl Bard

PROLOGUE

* * *

2nd of May, Saturday. Hogwarts 

Severus mechanically walked through the darkened empty hallways of Hogwarts at a quick pace, feeling nothing except an urgent need to finish this whole damn mess as quickly as possible.

Harry bloody Potter was here.

The moment he felt the trio breach the wards, relief washed over him, albeit not for very long — his Occlumency got one whiff of a new emotion and immediately pounced at it like a dog onto a bone, tearing at it until nothing was left.

So now Severus mechanically walked through the darkened empty hallways of Hogwarts at a quick pace in search of the brat or, if the worst did come to the worst — one of his shadow-sidekicks, but none were to be found. The castle was of no help either — at that moment, everything was so repressed by Occlumency that Severus barely could feel its presence these days.

He was so tired, though… This he did feel acutely. 

“Bloody fucking teenagers,” he mumbled under his nose, turning yet another corner.

“Watch it!” McGonagall, who was all but running in the opposite direction, snapped, barely managing to stop on time before the two of them collided.

It took Severus a second to recognise an opportunity, about two more to realise the definite futility of the endeavour, and another three to remember how much he did not give a damn about such trivial things anymore. In other words — he had a mission to accomplish, and as of now, McGonagall rather conveniently put herself into the category “means”.

"Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva?" Severus asked.

The woman bristled in indignation and opened her mouth for without a doubt yet another angry tirade (or possibly a killing curse), but was interrupted.

“I know you’re pissed, woman, but I don’t have time for your rants. I have to relay a rather important and time-sensitive message from Albus to Potter, so have you seen him?”

For a few seconds McGonagall was blissfully stunned into silence.

"Excuse me, correct me, if I am wrong: you have a message from Albus Dumbledore? The man you killed? How dare you open your filthy mouth and say his name, you traitor?! Defend yourself or I will curse you where you stand!” the professor hissed menacingly, pointing her wand straight at his throat. But Severus did not care about that either. He pushed forward, feeling the wand’s tip dig into his jugular.

"Don’t be an idiot, Minerva!” he snapped angrily. “Do you want that fucking monster to die or do you not?! I don’t care about games or secrecy or other such nonsense anymore. Potter needs to know the truth about a certain highly important matter and you will tell me where I can find him, or so help me God… There are ways of extracting information. ”

“YOU BASTARD!” McGonagall yelled and prepared to strike.

“Go on,” Severus snapped, “kill me. Kill me right now. I’ll even give you my own wand to do it.” He suddenly took his wand out and dropped it onto the floor behind the witch. “God knows how long I’ve dreamed of this moment… Remember, however, your chances to win this war will rot and burn with me.”

McGonagall hesitated, panting heavily.

“I can give him your message. What is it that’s so urgent?”

For a few seconds the hallway was drowned in tense silence. Severus’ mind raced. It recognised another opportunity and went into overdrive trying to find a way to relay the information through Minerva, but still keeping it a secret, and then it dawned.

“Mimsy!” Severus called quietly. The elf quickly and silently appeared before him.

“Master Severus Headmaster!” she cried out in distress, taking stock of the situation. She magically pushed McGonagall away and stuck her to the wall, instantly incapacitating her. A second wand rolled onto the floor. “I is protecting Master Severus at all costs! No one will harm Master Severus!”

Severus glanced at the two wands, lying peacefully not far from him, but then shifted his gaze to the distraught house-elf. “Let her go, Mimsy. Remember my order.”

The elf sighed but snapped her fingers, undoing the charm. McGonagall stumbled, but managed to keep upright, staring alternately at the elf and at her employer in shock. She even forgot to pick up her wand. 

“Bring me an empty vial,” Severus continued his instructions to the elf, ignoring his deputy. The creature nodded and vanished. A moment later his request appeared on the floor.

Severus summoned both the vial and his wand, and proceeded to extract several memories, placing them inside and sealing the cork. Then he handed both items to his once colleague and maybe even friend.

“I cannot possibly stress the importance of this information enough. Make sure it gets to Potter. ”

McGonagall nodded, looking down at the softly glowing vial and the wand that Severus was holding out to her by its tip. She reached for the memories, but froze just shy of actually taking them.

“Mimsy accepts you as her true master…” she mumbled contemplatively. Seconds ticked by as Minerva thought, staring at the outstretched wand and — most likely —  trying to add this situation to her other memories of his behaviour throughout their whole acquaintance. As she reached some sort of conclusion, her astonished gaze snapped to Severus' face. Apparently, whether deliberately or not, he did just blow up his carefully maintained cover, and had he been more of himself, he would have cared about that a great deal… As things stood — not taking into consideration the acute sense of purpose that overtook him, Severus felt nothing but annoyance at the Gryffindors' general penchant for sluggishness of mind. At this particular instance it was especially detrimental. Severus lived to finish this war, anything beyond that was of no consequence whatsoever. 

Minerva opened her mouth, without a doubt intending to say something incriminating and disgustingly sentimental, but didn't get the chance to do so. A few steps aside from her the air suddenly shimmered, and the next moment Potter revealed himself and Lovegood.

Tense silence returned, while both Severus and Minerva stared at the pair of teens.

"Snape," the brat said surprisingly politely and nodded. 

"Potter," Severus replied. For a moment he was lost for words, but Potter once again saved them all the trouble of deciding what to say.

"I think I can take that." He casually strode forward a few steps and took the vial with memories from Severus' hand. "You wouldn't mind if I borrowed the pensieve, would you?"

The question snapped Severus out of his mindless stupor, and he nodded, immediately starting to walk in the direction of his office. Without another word, Potter fell in step with him. 

"Put on the damn cloak."

The boy complied, and the two of them proceeded down the hallway in almost complete silence.

When the pair stepped over the threshold of the round office, Severus took the pensive out, placing him onto the edge of his desk. Potter dumped the contents of the vial into it, and for an interminable minute they stared at each other, not moving, not talking, not anything. For his part, Severus was making every possible effort to have an even tighter grip on his shields, ridding himself of every single hint of any emotion, because otherwise he knew he wouldn't be able to pull through the looming conversation with the boy. 

As opposed to the halls, the office was warmly lit. It looked just as disgustingly homely as during Dumbledore's tenure, which made Potter's appearance look even more contrasting to what Severus was used to. The boy was thin and dirty as hell, he seemed tired, no — exhausted, and understandably worried, but his gaze was steady. Almost calculating even, though how did he manage to be all of that at once was anybody's guess… Severus definitely did not want to delve into it at the moment. 

With a deep breath, the boy dived into the pensieve. Severus walked around his chair and forced himself to stand there, waiting an eternity for Potter to emerge and preparing himself for the inevitable reaction. If Dumbledore's damn portrait was not feigning sleep, Severus would've yelled at it right now for putting him once again in an impossible situation, but satisfaction was out of reach —  once the blasted man decided to ignore everyone, he would stubbornly do it even if the sky fell down on their heads. It was outrageous, and so unfair. 

Because he was bad at this. He was bad for this: no one in their right mind would think him a good candidate for explaining to a hormonally unstable teenager that he must go and face a madman, and not just face him… Let the madman kill him. It was not simply unfair , it was supremely insane.  

What was he supposed to do? 

A new wave of emotion swept over Severus, and as he tried to repress it, Potter's face reappeared in his line of sight, looking grim. 

"That bloody fool!" the boy mumbled almost inaudibly, and his expression seemed to morph into one of pure fury, which caught Severus off guard, but it flashed so fast, he was not sure it even happened.

"Harry…"

There was something odd and unnatural in using the boy's first name. Severus did not even know what exactly it was that he wanted to say. 

"Harry, I…"

Potter held up a hand and heaved a sigh.

"Professor, I'm really sorry, but there isn't much time for explanations. How much do you know about Horcruxes?" 

Severus could only gape at the sudden change of topic. He knew damn well what Horcruxes were, and has long been suspecting that that's what Potter was for all these years. Everything from his miraculous survival to the mysterious connection between the boy and the Dark Lord's minds pointed at it. 

"Judging by your reaction, I'm presuming, the concept is familiar. Long story short: I've known that I am one for some time, and that's what Dumbledore was telling you in that last memory you showed me." Potter rubbed his forehead. "The point is… I'm not the only Horcrux Riddle created. There were seven of us. Four are destroyed already: the diary from the ordeal with the Chamber of Secrets, that ring with the Nigrum Mortem curse with which Dumbledore so stupidly killed himself, Salazar Slytherin's locket, and Helga Hufflepuff's cup. The fifth is the Room of Requirement. The pattern suggests that it's something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, her diadem most certainly. And Nagini is the last one."

Potter paused briefly to take a breath, looking at Severus strangely. "It's a lot. I know. No wonder he's so insane."

Severus' mind, however, for a change drew completely blank. He was so shocked, he actually forgot to use Occlumency to control it. Not only Potter was talking to him civilly which has never happened before — let alone was completely unimaginable now, after he killed Albus almost in front of him (which he also turned on its head) — he was telling him that the Dark Lord made multiple Horcruxes. Seven, to be exact. 

Seven.

So that was what Dumbledore sent children to do… To hunt down pieces of the Dark Lord's soul. Bloody old dunderhead! Who makes children do something like that?! CHILDREN, for Merlin's sake! He could've done it much faster himself! But no , when the choice comes down to skill, extensive knowledge and years of experience versus youthful exuberance, sheer dumb luck and danger of the Dark Lord using the direct connection between his and Potter's minds, a bunch of teenagers naturally were preferable!..

What the bloody fuck, Dumbledore!? 

Potter kept on talking — something about the Room of Requirement and offices — but Severus heard maybe a third of it at most. His mind was racing, and his wand hand was itching to destroy something, but through the sheer power of his will, Severus managed to contain his impulses. 

"…this office. Severus! You must not let yourself get killed."

What? 

Severus stared at the boy in disbelief. Did he just say what Severus heard? 

"Potter, what—"

"I told you, I don't have time for more explanations. You'd just have to take my word for it, professor. I'm not asking you to trust me. Trust Dumbledore. I know it's hard, considering the circumstances, but just this once. Do it one more time. This hair-brained scheme — well, most of it — it's his, not mine. And we're so close, professor, so close to whacking that noseless thing for good." Potter pointed his arm in the general direction of the gathering Dark Lord's groupies. 

"And you're willing to die for it."

"Let's not pretend that the fact that Dumbledore was trying to prepare me for exactly this moment is a surprise to either of us. Let's just say I'm at peace with my fate, whatever it will be. Just… Please, kill the bastard for me. Or not for me… for her. Do it for Lily."

Silence stretched. 

The boy had no idea how right he was about their former Headmaster… 

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered. Although, truth be told, he had no idea what exactly he was apologising for, or if he should apologise at all. What do you say to a person you were sending to the gallows? Even if it was Potter… 

What was he thinking? How did it feel? Severus' hold on his shields was apparently slipping, because at this moment, he felt morbid curiosity burning inside of him. He couldn't bring himself to ask, though. But no matter, he was sure he was about to find out for himself, and pretty soon. 

The boy watched him intently for a long moment. Strangely, there wasn't a trace of fear on his face. How could it be? 

First sounds of an inflamed struggle — namely, rustling clatter of broken glass, booming blows of spells against stone walls, and screams, endless screams — came from somewhere outside of the window. In the yellowish semidarkness of the office, though, time was frozen. Silence painfully pressed on the eardrums of the two men in the room who stood looking at each other's equally stony expressions.

"I'm sorry too," Potter said quietly at last, and at the next moment, vanished into thin air. 

Severus blinked, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Apparitions were impossible inside the school's grounds, they were impossible for everybody, including the Headmaster. But Potter, of course, somehow managed to break even this restriction. 

Severus' anger flared up, the hot tongues of its flame licking away all traces of the previous melancholy. With the new purpose, he marched up to the door, intending to go and find himself a suitable target to vent all his frustrations, secrecy be damned — there was no cover left to maintain anyway — but the door wouldn't budge. No matter what he did, no matter what spells he used, the bloody thing stayed put. 

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" Severus cried out as a last resort. The spell hit its target with all force that he was capable of. It shook the whole tower and bounced back from the wall, sweeping away everything in its path as a tidal wave and crashing into him.

The very last thing that Severus noticed before his world went black was that the blasted door still remained closed.

A little over a week flew by. By courtesy of the magnanimous ever-living cockroach that Harry Potter was, Severus spent it alternately going mad in his silent house or going mad with endless interrogations in one of the DMLE's questioning rooms in preparation for this very moment. And still…

How the fuck did it all happen?.. No, how the fuck did he allow it all to happen? That was a more accurate and important question. Albeit, without an answer. The world tipped over on its head and continued to spin hell-bent into madness, completely out of any remaining shreds of control. Unbelievable.

Severus stood in the middle of the Courtroom Ten, feeling lightheaded to the point of nausea, with his vision mostly blurred and his ears ringing. His mind was racing, but at some point it got stuck on ‘what the fuck?’, couldn’t find an answer to that undeniably valid question, and decided to simply proceed on a loop. People in red puffy cloaks were swarming around doing hell knew what, no doubt casting him glances full of pity, damnable curiosity, or worse — something akin to concern or gratitude. Severus couldn't exactly see all of that clearly, but he felt it. He was smeared from head to toes with pity and compassion of quick prying eyes sliding all over him, and it made his skin crawl. His face formed his usual scowl without any conscious effort on Severus’ part.

It was over, though. It was over and done with, he was done. He was free. 

Free… What a strange word. Four letters on top of a lifetime of painful struggles; a goal, fathomless, so distant and vague, unreachable; a stupid notion, really. To be truly free was plain impossible. And now what? The world as he knew it was dead, people as he knew them — dead, there was no purpose, no meaning, only emptiness. Emptiness, a dark abyss of memories, and god only knew how many years ahead. Oh, and coldness that was still sipping through the sleeves of his robes where the chains had been. Severus doubted he would be able to get rid of it any time soon.

But he was free. Up to a point. Free and acquitted of all his sins, real and imagined. Surely it meant something? What about his promise to himself? 

Suddenly aware that his right shin was still touching the fucking Chair and feeling the creeps that spread from his leg up his spine and to the end of the each fucking nerve like tiny bolts of electricity, Severus jumped. Literally jumped on the spot. The haze instantly cleared, and he darted away toward the exit only to be stopped dead by the loud throat clearing just behind him.

What the fuck did they want now? He did not have anything else. It would’ve been so much better if he was simply sent to Azkaban where he could finally find the peace he was so longing for for years. Didn’t he fucking deserve to have fucking peace? Just this once, goddamnit! 

He was swearing too much. 

But how the fuck did it matter in what way he phrased his inner fucking monologue?

"Uhm, sir?"

Severus froze. Something heavy inside of him broke off and dropped deep down. It took him a moment to make a connection through all that uncontrollable pandemonium of thoughts in his head, but he knew that voice. Hell, he had nightmares, filled with that voice alone, echoing around him endlessly in the dark. And every time he woke up panting like a bloody dog. But not being the one to run away cowardly, Severus turned around with the most vicious of his glares in place and reflexive anger already simmering steadily just under the surface. 

For a few heartbeats, the world around them stood frozen.

"Mr. Potter?" he hissed quietly, looking straight into those damnable green eyes. It seemed that the boy simply was not capable of minding his own business, was he? First he makes him care about his looming murder, then he survives and pokes his nose where it doesn't belong, and now he can't stop himself from gloating. A wave of usual insults rolled up in Severus’ throat ready to sloosh the bloody brat with yet another portion of mud but… the boy was staring right back without a trace of usual arrogance, defiance, hostility, or any other negative (or positive, for that matter) emotion, which was incredibly strange. His face was so neutral, Severus had to blink to check if he was seeing things. But no, those piercing green eyes, shamelessly scanning his face, were still the same… Although, upon closer inspection, they definitely weren't. The brat's gaze was heavy, and old, and tired, and completely devoid of everything beyond that. It seemed, death, or near death — or whatever the hell it was — affected Potter far more than anybody realised. Or maybe not. It instantly reminded Severus of their encounter during the battle, and his anger vanished from sight. 

And, naturally, it made him think about the matter of the boy silently apparating out of the Head office, which made the bloody Potter's spawn an exception yet again . Severus was missing something, definitely. How did the boy do that? How dare he defy the laws of magic? The laws of life itself? And worse — how dare he make Severus curious? 

He just had to know now. What if there was a serious security problem in the school? Minerva must be made aware of it. 

"We need to talk," Severus finally said, looking straight into those still, green eyes.

"Pick a date."

That’s how on Friday evening Severus found himself on the too familiar porch of the 12 Grimmauld Place. In-between his supposed ex-brethren's trials that he was required to attend as it was the Wizengamot's sole stipulation for his acquittal, he spent this entire week debating the wisdom of such an action. After all, suffering through a voluntary visit to Harry Potter — a son of his childhood nemesis and his childhood infatuation; a boy that he spent six years tormenting in a rather childish manner (yes, he could admit it now ) — for the sake of appeasing his curiosity was stupid. Informing McGonagall of those phenomenal incidents and leaving her to deal with the boy would have been far better, yet Severus couldn't do so. For some inexplicable reason, he downright needed to solve this puzzle himself… His instincts screamed that leaving the matter to someone else would be a mistake, and Severus always trusted his instincts.

And as he was getting ready to disapparate this evening, it occurred to him all of a sudden that he now also had a chance to dot the i’s with the boy. At least make an effort. Not that Severus felt all that sorry for anything pertaining to his behaviour towards the boy, not particularly. But he did feel that however it was, he was tired of having arch-nemeses, enemies, foes, ill-wishers, etc. For once in his life Severus wanted to be at least on neutral terms with all his acquaintances, so he could live in peace, not worrying that the next person he met on the street was there out for his blood. An unlikely scenario, he knew, but nonetheless. One could hope.

Besides, just on Monday morning, when he sat down on the Chair and felt the chains tying him in place and blocking his magic, Severus vowed to himself that if he walked out of the courtroom a free man, he would take better care of himself. Rebuild himself anew if need be, preferably living somewhere far far away, of course. If the world would give him another chance, he would take it. The best way to start was to close off everything that tied him to the past. Why not start with Potter? What difference did it make to whom would he apologise first? Even if Severus absolutely hated even thinking of talking to Potter. The boy would definitely ask far too many uncomfortable questions, demand all sorts of explanations that were none of his business. It would be awkward, and it would be painful, and Severus would be a complete mess for days afterwards, probably drinking himself to sleep every night. And here he was anyway. Because, if he was completely honest with himself, there was a difference. If he'd be able to live through this, he'd be able to live through the rest of it. 

As was his habit, Severus quickly glanced around the area with a practised eye, searching for any suspicious activity or individuals, but, aside from some woman going about her business at the far end of the square, it was empty. Severus felt numb. No, he didn’t really know how he felt. The emotional roller-coaster of the trial, Potter’s new inexplicable oddities — don’t even get him started on how the two of them exited the courtroom — and on top of it all seeing this blasted house again created a downright chaos in his already fragile psych. He could’ve occluded, of course, shoved the whole jumble far away and locked it down, but it definitely was not a healthy option, therefore not a preferable one. Occlumency was great as a survival tool, but it was gradually destroying him: his once upon a time perfect memory was a thing of the past, his "wonderful" personality was becoming "fluffier" and "fluffier" over the course of the last twenty-five years, and more importantly, he was becoming more and more detached from himself and from the world around him. That last one was truly disturbing. So Severus forced himself to just breathe and keep it together.

Not wishing to antagonise the boy unnecessarily in order to avoid any additional complications, Severus knocked and waited. The door was opened by that old grumpy house-elf. He slipped outside, softly closing the door behind him.

"Good day, sir Snape. Master's awaites for you," Kreacher rasped and without a warning took hold of Severus' sleeve, immediately apparating him away.

The two of them reappeared in front of some house, surrounded by woods from all sides. Severus opened his mouth to berate Kreacher — or to ask where the hell they were — but the bloody elf already vanished from sight. 

"Brilliant…" Severus mumbled, looking around. As opposed to, for example, the Malfoy Manor, the house was small, but, of course, nothing could be considered "big" when compared to that (except Hogwarts, naturally) but in actuality it wasn't really that tiny either. It was probably thrice bigger than Severus' own house. It had a three-storey cube-shaped central part with a large porch and a balcony on top of it, joined by a graceful colonnade, here and there wrapped in ivy, and had two short symmetrical wings on both sides. The building was painted white, had two rows of large windows, and with the amount of greenery surrounding it, looked overall quite picturesque and inviting. 

Severus waved his wand a couple of times to check for any possible wards on the area, but, to his utter surprise, found none. Not even the clumsy rudimentary wards that the trio used while on the run. It was never a question of whether the boy was foolish — of course he was — but even Severus wouldn't have thought him foolish to that degree… Potter of all people should know better than to live in something less than an impenetrable fortress, especially now, when the war had just ended and tempers were still flying high. 

Severus shook his head in annoyance. The bloody brat was once again tempting fate with his recklessness, with his endless arrogance, and thoughtless attitude towards many people who made various sacrifices for his sake. Who did he think he was?! 

Thus working himself up into quite an angry state, — not that it was particularly difficult, mind you — Severus stomped to the front door and knocked loudly, not caring about the boy's reactions any longer. 

Not two seconds later, the door swung open, revealing… nobody. Severus stepped over the threshold and looked around the spacious entrance hall. The ivory walls were decorated with white stucco, picturing various tropical landscapes with a myriad of different birds, interspersed with white half-columns. The floors were made of grey marble, as were two wide staircases on both sides of the hall with bronze looking wrought iron railings. Transfixed with the simple, yet graceful pattern of it, Severus gradually lifted his eyes — skimming over a large floor-to-ceiling window on the opposite wall — to the second-floor ceiling, which had a mural of a clear blue sky, framed by branches and leaves, once again of tropical origin. On one of the branches sat a cockatoo, looking down on him. Their gazes met, and after a few seconds, the bird took off to the sky. Severus followed its movements with his eyes.

"His name’s Alfred," sounded from above, nearly making Severus jump. He looked towards the sound, ready to give the brat a piece of his mind. 

However… 

All words died on his tongue the moment his gaze landed on Potter. The boy looked… different. He smirked at Severus — actually smirked, the little shit — and leisurely descended the stairs. 

"Apparently, one of my ancestors was in love with all things tropical," he said with no care in the world, coming to a halt two steps away from his former professor. 

Severus, although, could not partake in the good mood. He found himself staring into a much older face than he expected, and did not like the emotional whirlwind this fact aroused in him. Instead of an ungainly teenager in front of him stood a lean stocky young man with a square chin, square shoulders, a number of scars on his face and hands — he was missing a phalanx on his right pinky, for Merlin’s sake — and a tremendously intense, razor-sharp and glasses-free gaze that pinned Severus to the spot like a fly by a fly-swatter. For several seconds that it took him to regain his bearings, his anger deflated, making room for shock.

It could not be. 

It just could not be. 

"What did you do, you foolish boy?" Severus whispered, trying to ignore the insistent ringing in his ears. 

"Hello to you too. I am fine, by the way, it is tremendously kind of you to ask. How are you faring yourself? Welcome to my humble abode, by the way. I believe you wished to discuss something. What can I help you with?" Potter replied, all courtesy and politeness. He sounded somewhat off, but Severus all of a sudden remembered that he was angry and did not pay much attention to this particular oddity. The boy swirled around and headed towards some place at the far end of the entrance hall, resuming to talk when Severus was unable to make any answer:

"You know, I was almost sure you wouldn't show up…"

Potter continued speaking casually, but Severus hadn't heard a thing. It was too much. How he missed Occlumency…that bloody fucking thing. His ears rang louder. After a long deafening moment, he followed Potter, but froze a couple of steps later, unable to make himself move any further. The boy looked back over his shoulder, half-smiling crookedly… And something inside Severus snapped. 

"Stop this foolishness at once, Potter!" he barked. "I asked you a question. What did you do, you imbecilic dunderhead?! Are you really that stupid?! Don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. Of course you are!" 

"Just like my father, I suppose?" Potter interrupted quietly, turning around fully and looking at him with an unreadable expression. Somewhere deep inside Severus' mind, a tiny bell of alarm went off, but was barely noticeable behind the veil of red that clouded his whole being. 

"SILENCE!" Severus roared, then dropped his voice down to his customary threatening soft tones. "Don't give me that cheek. Do you even realise the danger you had placed yourself and no doubt your little gang in too? I don't care how old you are now or how hailed of a hero, you will spend your entire last year of schooling in detention."

"Are you quite finished?" Potter replied calmly. 

"NO, I AM NOT!" Severus bellowed, almost flying up to the idiot boy and looming over him. "I am not. I have not spent seven years dragging your stupid hide out of mortal danger time and again for you to behave in such a foolhardy way, though why did I expect you to become smarter after everything you have gone through I would never know. Because yes, YOU ARE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER! RECKLESS, PIG-HEADED, UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BRAT!..."

He continued to yell almost at the top of his lungs for some time, berating, cursing, and insulting Potter in every imaginable way, not sure whether because he really was that angry with the dumb boy or because it just felt so damn good. He poured every grievance, every injustice, frustration, all his pain, all his fear — everything negative that accumulated in his soul over many years into it, and it was cathartic…

Until it wasn't. 

"Get. Out," Potter hissed. His face contorted in pure fury, curbing any and every liberating feeling that Severus may have had, turning the tiny alarm-bell into Tocsin, and bringing it to the forefront of his mind in the span of a heartbeat, and it finally gave Severus pause. 

"What?.."

"Are you hard of hearing, professor? I said, get your rational, obliging, and entirely too grateful arse out of my house." Then Potter made a step forward and also dropped his voice to barely above whisper. Their eyes locked. "You seem to suffer under the misapprehension that I will continue tolerating your endless insults. Let me rectify it immediately: I do not partake in a habit of allowing people to practise their wit on my person. That is a rule from which you are no longer an exception, however much of a hero you are. " Severus tried to rearrange his facial expression into something more appropriate, but found that his body was paralysed. His pulse instantly went up and ears started ringing again, but Potter's voice remained clear. It reverberated in his mind as if the boy spoke directly inside it, which was even more terrifying because Severus also found himself incapable of occluding. "If you are not able to behave in a civilised manner, then kindly remove yourself from my presence."

Sudden panic swallowed Severus whole. He tried to tear his gaze away from Potter's sharp eyes and for the first time in his life do exactly as he was told by the boy, but it was impossible. He could barely think, could not move, could not breathe… 

But then Potter blinked, breaking the tension, and the paralysis vanished as if it never happened, leaving Severus panting.

"Penelope." An elf popped up somewhere behind Severus. "Be so kind as to escort our guest to the front door lest he get lost."

The next moment Severus felt a small hand gripping his forearm and, immediately after, a familiar tag of apparition that took him to some clearing, surrounded by dense woods. The elf let go of him, mumbled something about rude men disrespecting her master, and disappeared. Severus was left alone and quite dumbfounded. 

What the fuck was that?