Harry stared out at the dark grounds, spotted with the little orbs of soft light that came out every night. It was late, really late, so late it was probably bordering on really early, but he couldn’t sleep. He’d tried, tossing and turning for hours before finally just leaving the bed and curling up on the window seat. He wanted to not like it, the window seat, the view, the manor, so that it would be easier to leave behind, but he couldn’t muster up the hate he wanted. Despite everything with the people he’d shared the space with, the space itself had, in a mere seven weeks, become the most comfortable place he’d ever inhabited. He could hardly imagine leaving, even for Hogwarts, but he had to and he had to make himself okay with it. He tried to focus on the people, Snape and Malfoy, people he couldn’t wait to get away from…normally. Just like the manor, he couldn’t seem to find that once so common hatred he’d had for the two Slytherins. There was undeniable rage, certainly, for Snape and what he’d learned about the prophecy, but there was also undeniable hurt.

Seven weeks and his life had unravelled.

He ran a hand through his hair roughly and left the window seat. He had one more day at Prince Manor which meant only one more night of a comforting kitchen with comforting tea at four in the morning. So, down he went, keeping his steps light to avoid alerting Snape or Malfoy, and he entered the kitchen. He made a cup of tea quickly, no longer terrified of consequences for being up and doing so. It had happened a handful of times, both alone and with Malfoy, but every time, Snape had simply joined, sometimes talking, sometimes not. He glanced over his shoulder at the thought, wondering if Snape was there yet; he wasn’t.

He finished making his tea and took his usual seat at the table. As he waited for it to cool, he looked at all the empty seats; Snape to his left at the head, Malfoy across from him, Alexei and Leif in any of the others as they often moved around. What an odd thing to not want to leave behind, the simple act of eating meals, sitting at this table. Yet, it was more than that. It was normal despite the abnormal company. He and Malfoy shared looks in response to the adults’ comments and stories. Snape made sure he ate, more than anyone else had ever done. Leif and Alexei told stories and encouraged steady conversation, even ensuring Snape engaged.

He liked it, but he hated that he liked it. Hated that, soon, it would be like it had never happened and he hated how much it actually hurt. It wasn’t like they’d become friends or anything. They barely tolerated each other, but they’d become…something.

He took a sip of his tea and moved his gaze to the window behind Malfoy’s seat, watching the glowing orbs dance. He wished it could be easy, that he could just hate the place and them the way he had seven weeks ago. He wanted to hate it all, but…something had changed.

He jumped and nearly spilled his tea when a box was placed on the table beside his arm. He looked from it to Snape who settled into his place at the table, tea in hand. This was the first time in two weeks that he’d been near the professor outside of meals. He’d done quite well avoiding the man, needing to sever whatever had grown between them in the face of the prophecy and their return to Hogwarts. He needed to be okay with things going back to how they used to be, and he was…mostly. Until he was face to face with it, like now. This wasn’t how it used to be and it made it hard to remember what that was.

“For your headaches and scar pain should you continue to experience visions,” Snape said and Harry frowned.

See, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Thought we were supposed to help with it?” Harry said.

“It proved to be more complicated than I anticipated, beyond fifth years,” Snape said.

Harry nodded slowly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Snape said nothing, simply drank his tea. It didn’t take long for the rage he wished was hate to rear up inside him. He was well aware Snape was not the only one involved in the murder of his parents, but Snape was the one directly in front of him. It was easier to be angry at someone in front of him rather than just the thought of someone. Snape he could yell at, glare at, try to curse if he was so inclined to risk his life. Besides, being angry at Snape was their normal and that’s what they had to get back to in just over twenty-four hours.

He glared down at his tea, using his lifetime of pain and loneliness to fan his anger. He may be unable to gather hate, but rage he could do.

“Did you really hate them so much you wanted them to die?”

His eyes flicked up to see Snape’s tea pause millimeters from his lips.

“No,” Snape said, resuming his drink of tea.

“What did you want then? Why did you do it?” Harry asked, needing the anger to stay alive.

“I do not have a good reason, if that is what you are hoping for. I was loyal. I wanted to gain favour and I did.”

“You became his right-hand man,” Harry said.

“I did.”

“You still are,” Harry said. “It’s why you can spy.”

“Yes.”

Harry turned back to his tea, frowning again as he felt his anger fizzle. He tried to bring it back.

“I know you don’t give a damn about me, but I know you’ve protected me. Was it just because of this, getting your redemption as Dumbledore called it?”

Snape seemed to have to think about his response, making it more confusing than angering when he said, “Perhaps at first.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “And now?”

Snape took a sip. “You deserve protection.”

Harry couldn’t help but huff, frustrated at his confusion. “You saved my life this summer, but, whatever this has all been, it’s done. I can’t forgive you.”

“I do not expect you to,” Snape said and his continued casualness helped keep Harry’s anger simmering.

“So, we go back,” Harry said. “To how it was. We keep hating each other.”

He studiously ignored the odd pain in his chest.

“If we wish to survive,” Snape said.

“Right,” Harry said, tapping his finger on his teacup. “What about Malfoy?”

“He is in Slytherin. I will do what I can to protect him.”

“Guess it shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve managed to protect me while making everyone believe you’re actually trying to kill me.”

“Indeed.”

When he looked at Snape, he swore he saw a flash of amusement in the dark eyes. It made the pain in his chest grow a little, made it a little harder to ignore.

“Get some sleep, Mr. Potter,” Snape said after a long silence.

Harry looked at him again. That wasn’t normal for them either. Snape wasn’t supposed to care if he ate enough or got enough sleep. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that would struggle to go back. He eventually nodded and left the kitchen, leaving Snape behind with the nearly empty tea. He walked up the stairs and to his room, still keeping his steps light so he didn’t disturb Malfoy.

He let the door close behind him and threw himself on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, knowing sleep would continue to elude him for reasons unknown to him. He tapped his fingers on his chest before rolling over onto his stomach and snatching his journal from his bedside table. He flipped to the next blank page.

I should hate him. I’ve always hated him. I have to hate him.

He paused, tapping the page with his pencil as he chewed his lip.

Why don’t I hate him?

He frowned down at the words, annoyed writing them hadn’t miraculously solved everything. He flipped to a blank page at the back and quickly scrawled a short question.

Will you still protect me?

He stared at the little symbol in the bottom corner, contemplating. He hadn’t used it before, never wanted the others to see his truths. Before he could stop himself, he tapped the symbol and his writing shimmered. He stared at the page, his eyebrows furrowed, unsure what he was waiting for. Then the page shimmered again and he was looking at a single word in familiar, elegant writing.

Always.

The pain in his chest pulsed and he closed the journal, sliding it back onto the table. He folded his arms under his pillow and dropped his head onto it. Somehow, this time, he dropped off to sleep.

“How are we getting to King’s Cross?” Harry asked at breakfast the next morning, their last in Prince Manor.

“You will be sent to Headquarters in the morning, and you will take a Portkey with the Weasleys and some Order members,” Snape explained. “Mr. Malfoy will be Apparated by myself to an area we will not be seen and left to board.”

Harry couldn’t help his shudder at the idea of a Portkey. He wasn’t sure he could ever be okay with the travel method again. He took a small bite of his banana pancake, a surprising but delightful final breakfast. He wanted it to last, though he refused to acknowledge why. It would make it too hard.

“What if—”

He looked up at Malfoy’s quiet start to a question. The blonde looked tense, almost worried, and he was reminded of Voldemort’s deadline. It ran out tonight.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape pressed, looking at the blonde over the Prophet.

Malfoy looked uncomfortable, but still worried. “What if something happens on the train?”

Harry frowned slightly at the other boy. He knew Malfoy was in danger from Lucius and Voldemort, but would Slytherin house turn on him? Would others have heard about his disappearance and do something about his return? His own friends were unlikely to be thrilled when they saw Malfoy was returning to school with them rather than dead. Was Malfoy in danger at Hogwarts too? Did he care?

He continued ignoring the painful pressure in his chest that had yet to go away that was giving him the answer to that very question.

“There will be a couple of Order members on the train for Mr. Potter,” Snape said. “Should anything occur for either of you, you are to locate them.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy as Malfoy just looked down at his own pancakes with a tight frown.

“I have one last thing to teach you, Harry, and it could help in some situations,” Alexei said. “It is quite advanced, far beyond where your training currently is, but I would like for you to know it.”

Right. Not only were they leaving behind Prince Manor, but also Leif, Alexei, and their training. That hurt he was willing to admit. He was going to miss the two immortals and he knew there was so much he didn’t know about his magic. How was he supposed to learn?

“If it’s so advanced, will I even be able to do it?” Harry asked.

Alexei smiled. “I’ve got faith in you, rebenok.”

It was impossible not to believe the vampire.

“Come along, gentlemen,” Alexei said, rising to his feet.

“Excuse me?” Snape said, raising an eyebrow while Malfoy frowned.

“You are all required to participate,” Alexei said with the playful, mischievous grin Harry was going to miss.

“Thrilling,” Snape drawled. “Guinea pigs for powerful magic in the hands of Potter.”

Harry scowled at him. “Hey! I haven’t burnt the place down, have I?”

“Small miracles,” Snape said and Harry huffed.

“Going to now just for that,” Harry muttered, shoving his last bite of pancake in his mouth before yelping when he felt a sting on his thigh. He looked at Snape who just gave him a raised eyebrow in clear challenge. “Bastard,” he mumbled, noting the twitch of the man’s lips.

He was supposed to pretend none of this had happened?

“Come on, all of you,” Alexei said and they all stood, following the vampire to the backyard.

Harry stood somewhere near the middle of the yard and watched as Alexei directed the others to stand in seemingly random places around Harry. When the vampire was done, they were all varying distances away: Snape was leaning almost casually against the willow tree, Malfoy was about three meters to his left and sitting in the grass, and Leif was standing on the back porch with his arms crossed. He waited curiously as Alexei walked back to him.

“Now, Harry, this is a complicated skill using Air Magic. You’ve shown some good skill with Air Magic so far, so I think you’ll be able to catch on,” Alexei said.

Harry knew he was talking about the few times he’d used Air Magic to remove Alexei’s hair tie and, just the other day, he’d used it to settle a leaf very carefully on top of the vampire’s head.

“It is possible to communicate using Air Magic by sending short messages through the air to a targeted person,” Alexei explained.

“Talk through air?” Harry said, surprised.

Alexei nodded. “The phrases ‘a whisper on the wind’ or ‘a voice in the air’ or any variation is a result of this ability. It is called Air Speak. With it, you can get a message to someone if you need.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said, excited for the first time in days.

“You have to be careful, though, it does take a fair bit of magic, so you must only use it when necessary until your magical endurance is stronger,” Alexei said and Harry nodded in understanding. “This will be difficult, more so because your magic is going to want to connect with Draco and Severus since you will be interacting with them directly.”

“Can I hurt them?” Harry asked.

“It is always possible while you learn,” Alexei said and Harry hesitated, glancing over at Snape. “No one here will hurt you if you make a mistake, you know that.”

Harry swallowed, trying to remember that fact. He couldn’t help but wonder if that would change once they returned to their old relationship. He and Malfoy had certainly never held back on each other, and Snape had manhandled him before to shove him out of a room or his way. With everything going on, his nightmares had gotten worse, reviving his Dursley-induced fears that he hadn’t realized had decreased unconsciously over the weeks. They had returned full force, however, in the last couple of weeks since he learned about the prophecy.

“Harry,” Alexei said, pulling Harry back to him. “He will not harm you.”

Harry blew out a breath and nodded again. He knew Alexei was right. In seven weeks, even when he’d screwed up, Snape hadn’t even given an indication he would hit Harry.

Alexei smiled at him. “Good. Ready to try?”

“Definitely.”

“Alright, so, the way it works, you have to essentially put words in a pocket of air that you will then send to a specific person. When done correctly, the air pocket will…pop, so to speak, and the recipient will hear the message.”

“Can other people hear it?” Harry asked.

“No. If they are close enough, it will just sound like whistling wind or like when you think you hear something, but nothing was said,” Alexei said.

“Is there a limit on how far a message can be sent?” Harry asked.

“I am unsure. I have never tried long distances,” Alexei said.

“What about the length of messages?” Harry asked.

“A few words at most,” Alexei said. “Long sentences get lost.”

“Can we get a move on? Some of us have things to do,” Snape called from the tree.

“No, you don’t!” Alexei called back without even turning to look at the professor. Harry glanced at the man and, while he was a fair distance away, he could still make out the signature glare. “However, he is right. Give it a try. Get your Air Magic ready.”

Harry closed his eyes and flexed his hands, digging for his Elemental Magic. He took a quick moment to note how many more colour strands were mixed with the normal gold. It seemed to be more than double what he’d seen over a month earlier. He focused on them, but, instead of pulling at the full strands, he tugged at just the yellow ones, encouraging them to detangle from the others and flow to his hands.

However, as soon as he started gathering it, it was as though his magic woke up and exploded out of him. He saw the coloured threads dash through the air in opposite directions and he knew they were going for Snape and Malfoy. He had never used his magic in such close proximity to them and it was clearly desperate to connect with the direct sources rather than just what could be found in the wards.

“Oi!” he heard Malfoy shout and his eyes flew open.

Luckily, his Fire Magic had not made an appearance. Instead, it seemed his focus on Air Magic had made it take the lead as both Malfoy and Snape were smoothing down hair and adjusting clothes.

“Sorry,” he said, getting a small glare from both Slytherins.

“To be expected,” Alexei said with a small chuckle. “Try again.”

Harry was a little hesitant, but allowed Alexei to encourage him. He did the same thing, this time noticing the pulsing of his magic. He pushed the other elements down calmly and held tight to the Air Magic threading through his fingers. Even though neither Snape or Malfoy were using their magic, his magic knew it was nearby. To settle his magic so he could focus, he let the other elements hover around, able to feel the others’ magic, but not allowed to follow it. It was almost like their magic was reaching out to meet his, knowing his couldn’t come to them or act out. It seemed to work and he put all his focus on the Air Magic in his hands. The Air Magic still wanted to join with the others, wanted to be a part of the interaction with Malfoy and Snape, but it remained relatively calm, ready to be used.

“Steady?” Alexei asked and Harry nodded, not wanting to break his concentration by speaking. “Good. Now, you need to try and make a ball, a hollow ball of air.”

It was vague instruction, all of Alexei’s explanations were like that. The elements were vague, he would say, and they could only guide them to do what they wanted. Specificity did not exist in the natural elements; they just were. So, he imagined what he wanted and moved the Air Magic he held. He could see the yellow wispy threads in his hands and watched it leave to hover in front of him as he created what he needed.

The strings fluttered around, floating on the air and waving as they wrapped together, creating an orb.

“Good, good,” Alexei said, pleased. “Now, think of something to say and whisper it into the air. Picture the words inside the air.”

Harry decided to go with something basic and whispered, “Hello,” into the bubble of swirling air. He tried to picture the word, but frowned when it seemed to dissolve. He could feel a dull ache spreading across his body, and knew he was beginning to exhaust himself. Alexei hadn’t been exaggerating; it was advanced and draining. He repeated the tactic again, but it once again disappeared from the orb. He decided, then, to try another method and, as he whispered the word once again, he pictured it being inscribed on the inside of the air bubble. He watched his messy writing appear, the letters a sparkling white against the yellow magic.

“Think of who you want to send the message to and push it away from you,” Alexei instructed quietly. “It should be able to naturally find who you think of.”

Harry thought hard about Snape, urging the air bubble to find him, and then shoved it away as though a gust of wind had taken it. He watched, but it didn’t get far. It was as though the rest of his magic realized the message was searching for Snape and took off, wanting to join in the search for the opportunity to interact with Snape. The other elements went crashing into the air bubble, bursting it and making him huff. He opened his eyes and looked at Alexei chuckling beside him.

“You have excitable magic, rebenok,” Alexei said, grinning. “Try again.”

With a sigh, Harry repeated the process, including letting the other elements hover around to mix with Malfoy’s and Snape’s. When he blew the air bubble away, his magic flared again, but he held it close, forcing it to be content with the wisps of Malfoy’s and Snape’s magic that hovered in the air naturally. After several seconds, he felt a release in his magic, indicating the bubble had popped.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” he heard Snape say and his eyes flew open to look at the man still leaning against the tree.

“Wonderful, Harry!” Alexei exclaimed. “You got it much faster than I anticipated. How do you feel?”

“Alright,” Harry said. “It definitely takes a lot.”

Alexei nodded. “Do you feel you could practice more? It’s far more beneficial when you don’t have to build it so much and can do it in an instant.”

“I can keep going,” Harry said, understanding how useful the mode of communication could be.

And, so, the session continued for another couple of hours. Snape, Malfoy, Leif, and Alexei moved around, making him adjust to varying distances across which to send his air message. While he grew steadily more exhausted over the two hours, he did get far more efficient with the skill. By the end, he no longer had to close his eyes, meticulously separate his Air Magic, or build the air pocket. He could do it in mere seconds, almost without thinking.

The session was called to a close when Harry fell to his knees in the grass, breathing hard and trembling. Alexei knelt beside him, a gentle hand on his back that he managed not to flinch at.

“You pushed too hard,” Alexei said, a gentle admonishment.

“I’m okay,” Harry argued though weakly.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” Leif called and Harry looked up at the man who had, at some point, replaced Snape at the tree. It looked like he had pulled a kind of pocket watch from a pocket on his trousers. “Something has come up at the Ministry and I must be off.”

“Not to worry, moy drug,” Alexei said. “I believe we are done for today.”

“Very well done, Harry,” Leif said with a smile before walking around the manor, heading for the front gate about a kilometer away.

“Let’s get you some lunch,” Alexei said, helping Harry shakily to his feet.

They headed back into the manor, Snape and Malfoy following behind. Harry was surprisingly grateful to sink into his seat at the kitchen table. He felt exhausted and somewhat weakened, but it was more apparent following the exertion of walking. Harry rolled his head on the back of the chair and watched Snape swiftly prepare some chopped, raw vegetables and leftover Shepherd’s Pie. It wasn’t long before the plates were being levitated to the table along with glasses of water and, presumably, blood that Alexei required at least once a day. Harry dug in immediately, completely famished from the intense session.

“Keep practicing, within reason, of course,” Alexei said. “If you need help this year, this can be a way to get it.”

Harry nodded.

“You were…impressive, Mr. Potter,” Snape said and Harry stared at him with wide eyes.

“Was that a…compliment?” Harry said, stunned.

“Your first and last, I’m sure,” Snape said, lips twitching as he raised his glass for a drink.

Harry blinked dumbly, recognizing the comment as a joke and floored that Snape had made it at all. Eventually his own lips curved into a small smile and he let out a huffed laugh, in disbelief and legitimate amusement. He turned back to his food, silently basking in the ease and bit of pride he felt, momentarily forgetting about all that had been troubling him the last two weeks. Despite all of that, he wanted to enjoy his final day at Prince Manor.