They had spent so much time hiding and moving and sneaking—a year camping out wherever they could find a place, hunting down horcruxes and trying so desperately not to break beneath the burden that had been placed on their shoulders.

And it had been ‘their’. Ron and Hermione had made it clear to Harry early in on their quest that he was not alone. It did not matter what the Dursleys had drilled into his head about being alone in the world, or that the death of Sirius had felt like a confirmation. Wherever Harry went, they would be by his side.

At the beginning of his first year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had been small. Scrawny. He had been innocent—almost to the point of being naïve. He’d known nothing about Voldemort, or Death Eaters, or wars.

He hadn’t even been introduced to Divination yet—and with it, the horribly morbid Trelawney and the Prophecy she predicted that would define the next few years of his life.

His biggest worry hadn’t even been which House the hat would sort him into…it had simply been whether or not he would be sorted at all.

He could remember it now…wondering whether or not he would just sit there for a long time while nothing happened, until McGonagall would say there must have been a mistake and send him home on the train…back to the Dursleys.

He missed the innocence of his first year—something that had survived despite the mystery of the Philosopher’s stone and all of the implications that came with facing Voldemort for the first time.

It had been over seven years since he’d first set foot in Hogwarts, and he’d changed so much.

You were supposed to change in the seven years of a traditional Hogwarts education—but not this much. Never this much.

They’d all changed.

Draco Malfoy was quiet now…it was rather unnerving now. Where used to be an arrogant child…one who flung insults left and right without a second thought in even the mildest of confrontations, there was now a quiet man.

Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown had been known as gossips for most of their years at Hogwarts. They too, were quiet now. Pavarti had gone into Healing, and Lavender had started her own little shop, selling popular Wizard fashions. The two had remained good friends, but declined all invitations from the media (who were systematically seeking out everyone who’d ever interacted with Harry in the years leading up to Voldemort’s demise) to speak about their peers.

Susan Bones had become a fiery young woman with a sharp tongue—following in her Aunt’s footsteps, she got a job in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Slowly but surely, she was helping the department regain some sense of credibility.

Even after Voldemort had been killed, it had taken months to find all of the Death Eaters who had to be given trials and sentenced accordingly. The amount of corruption in the Ministry needed even longer to be dealt with appropriately…very few departments were left intact by the changes.

Harry had killed Voldemort last year, under the enchanted ceiling that had so entranced the first years when they’d first seen it. Last June.

It had been a year since then—one so desperately needed for the group to get their lives back in order. There was family to reconnect with, houses to repair, lives for people to figure out as they were coming to the realization they had a future.

Everyone had been held back a year, McGonagall’s reasoning being that the level of education received while the Carrows had infiltrated Hogwarts (honestly…Amycus Carrow as Headmaster of Hogwarts? Absolutely horrid) was poor; in most cases, practically non-existent—especially considering the few that had even been there to receive it in the first place.

So Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the rest had come back to Hogwarts for one last year to complete their education at Hogwarts and graduate.

The year had been fairly strange—the seventh years were treated differently and given much more leeway than any of the other students. After fighting alongside each other, many of the students were on a first-name basis with the teachers.

The strangest, however, was the relationship between Harry Potter and Severus Snape. It was absent of any malice. Especially after Snape had killed Dumbledore at the end of their sixth year—none of them would have thought such a thing possible.

For a minute, Harry had thought Snape dead on the floor of the Shrieking Shack after Nagini had bit him. But then Snape had gone and produced a vial—one Harry had recognized after so many detentions and nights spent labeling potions for the Professor.

A Poison antidote. How amusing.

Snape had showed Harry his memories, explaining everything in clipped, short tones; giving a rushed explanation of it all in the short amount of time they had left before Voldemort came calling.

Snape had explained his love for Lily, the uneasy role he’d played in Hogwarts over the last year—remaining Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher under the appointment of Amycus Carrow, taking over as many detentions as he could from the man’s sister, Alecto, while trying to maintain his position as a spy within the ranks of Lord Voldemort.

Harry had listened to it all, quietly and thoughtfully mulling things over. When Snape at last finished his tale, he’d asked but one thing of Snape. “Show me your Patronus, sir.”

Considering that Snape had also explained Harry himself was the last horcrux—the Potions Professor could not deny him this. “Expecto Patronum.” As lovely and entrancing as it had been the night Harry had pulled Gryffindor’s sword from the lake, a silver doe emerged from Snape’s wand.

Harry had left without another word to Snape.

The next time Snape had seen Harry, he’d been standing at the doors to Hogwarts as Voldemort approached. Hagrid had been beside the Dark Lord, weeping openly while carrying the limp form of Harry Potter in his arms.

He had heard Hagrid’s frantic cries as the Harry’s body disappeared amidst of chaos after Neville chopped off Nagini’s head. He had stood in the shadows as Harry had revealed himself to Voldemort, alive after all. He and Voldemort had circled each other as all fell silent around the room—it had always been coming down to just these two, after all.

With dark amusement he watched Voldemort cast the killing curse and Harry counter with a first-year spell. One he’d taught to so many…’Expelliarmus.’ He highly doubted anyone in that room would ever again look down on the simple spell. Especially not when it had worked—the Elder Wand had flown out of Voldemort’s hand and into Harry’s.

Voldemort’s own curse had rebounded upon him. Without any of his horcruxes remaining, the monster had died at last.

After all of that, a petty childhood grudge over the boy’s father seemed unimportant.

The two still bantered in public, generally at meals in the Great Hall. First years watched in awe as Harry and Severus traded insults they’d never thought were possible to utter to Professor Snape and still keep your head. But it was definitely friendlier now.

They hadn’t discussed Lily since that night, when Harry had asked to see his Patronus. It seemed a forbidden topic for both of them to breach—there was too much history there for the both of them.

When NEWTs came around, students weren’t nearly as nervous as was normal. Madam Pompfrey’s stock of Calming Potions remained intact, for the most part—the few potions used were generally by OWL students.

After fighting Voldemort, a round of exams seemed so insignificant in comparison. Not even Hermione worried much over them.

After a full school year of well-balanced teaching in all subject areas (for once), they all thought they’d done pretty well.

The entire school passed their NEWT for Defense Against the Dark Arts, unsurprisingly. The new teacher they’d brought in had been young but not inexperienced—and even he could find nothing important to teach them they didn’t already have a basic grasp of.

Eventually, June had come around; and with it, graduation.

The traditional seven years at Hogwarts—eight for this group of graduating students—were coming to a close. While other students had plans and future careers to follow, Harry didn’t quite know what he wanted to do.

He’d never expected to be alive at this point, truthfully.

He should have seen it coming really—McGonagall had approached him two weeks prior to Grad and asked him if he would make a speech. Of course they wanted him to make a speech—he was Harry Potter. Although media attention had died down recently, the newspapers still portrayed him as their hero.

For all of his apparent Gryffindor bravery, Harry still disliked making speeches in front of people.

He’d addressed so many people while fighting Voldemort—telling people to stay out of the fight, encouraging them when all hope seemed lost…but that felt different. There was no pressure on him when he’d been saying that—he hadn’t planned anything to say, he’d just said what felt right. Followed his instincts.

He’d been following his instincts so much during that year they’d been hunting horcruxes, he wouldn’t be there now had they not been so well-developed.

His ideas on speaking in front of a large group of people hadn’t changed. He could plan this sappy, dramatic speech for his peers—but he wouldn’t.

He would simply say what felt right.

-----

Every eye in the room was upon him—he had the complete attention of everyone in the room. It was overwhelming and amazingly amusing at the same time. He took a brief moment to consider the paradox this created before returning his mind to the task at hand.

“Professor McGonagall asked me to say a few words to our graduating class. Unfortunately, doing that correctly is impossible. Not all of us are here today.” Harry paused for a minute.

“I would love to be standing here making a speech about all of the good times and the bad about our eight years at Hogwarts—and not mention Voldemort.” The crowd flinched slightly at the name in reflex, but people were used to Harry saying the name by now.

“I can’t do that. I can’t pretend that Voldemort didn’t affect the lives of each and one of you in this room with me today.”

“Not everyone that should be sitting with us now is here. That’s just so wrong.” The crowd fell silent again at Harry’s emotion-filled tone. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t okay to laugh again. To live again.”

“I think that’s the most important lesson I learned at Hogwarts. Not one I learned from a textbook—thought I’m sure our lovely Professors tried to cram as many of those in as possible before today—but a life lesson you guys have taught me.” Harry gave a small smile.

“I would like to thank Professor McGonagall for bringing everyone back for a final year at Hogwarts, however. For giving us back time we thought we’d lost forever.” The graduating class burst into a chorus of cheers so loud it shocked the adults to their core.

“I wouldn’t regret coming back for another year for anything in the world. It was the best year of my life so far, and from the stories you guys have been telling all week, I’m guessing it’s true for most of you as well.” Again, the class cheered.

“I mean, who could forget Seamus and Pavarti down there falling in love and getting engaged?” It had been a surprising romance, but apparently a fairytale one. Seamus had proposed just last week in the Great Hall, to the surprise of all their friends.

“I, personally, have fond memories of the duel between Professors McGonagall and Snape, where the two ended up wearing each other’s House colours.” Harry turned back to Snape, and with an evil grin, said, “You look great in red and gold, Professor.” Snape scowled at him, and the crowd gave a hearty laugh.

“Traditionally in these types of speeches they talk about the real world—how we haven’t experienced anything like it, and how the lessons learned here will apply out there.”

Harry gave a shrew smile. “I suppose I could say that load of drivel—but we all know it doesn’t really apply to us now, does it?” Harry waited a minute, taking the time to organize his thoughts before speaking. “We’ve all grown up much faster than we should have. We’ve all experienced the ‘real world’, one way or another.” The class was nodding in agreement now, of the same opinions as Harry on this topic.

“What I mean is this: these eight years at Hogwarts have been the best and worst of our lives. We’ve met great friends—and occasionally made some enemies, although most of that drama has been solved lately.” Draco Malfoy gave a small laugh and Harry directed a small smile at him. They’d stopped fighting during this last year.

“Voldemort undoubtedly provided a lot of our worst times here at Hogwarts—but he has nothing on all of the rest of it. He has failed in the most important way—we are still here living, still laughing. The best times we will remember long after the months spent under the tutelage of Death Eaters.”

Harry smiled brightly. “Just think: when you have a bad day, as all people do; be it memories from the war rising or an unbearable boss—who could forget Ron standing in front of the Great Hall, singing Christmas carols at Halloween?” Ron pinked slightly, but smiled as the Hall cheered again.

“Even the teachers agree it’s some of the best spellwork Hermione’s done yet.” The Hall cheered again and Hermione broke out into a wide grin, smiling slightly as Ron pretended to glare at her.

“In the end, this last year at Hogwarts has been amazing. I’m glad to have returned for a stress-free year with the lot of you—although I won’t call it peaceful, for who can forget Hannah Abbot dropping Ernie Macmillan into the lake after he stood her up on Valentine’s?” It was Ernie who blushed this time, as Hannah glared at him.

“We’ve learned so much from Hogwarts—academically and otherwise. Most importantly—we’ve learned to live and to laugh no matter what life may throw at us.” Harry smiled.

“And that no matter how many points Professor Snape takes during a Potions class, we will always have a chance at the House cup.” Harry stepped off the stage to loud cheering, distinct gales of laughter over his last line discernible amongst them.

-----

“Sappy enough, Potter?”

Harry turned around at the sharp voice that had become so familiar lately. “I thought it would be nice if they were crying tears of happiness, for once.” The darker undertones of Harry’s reply did not escape Snape.

Perhaps that was why this odd friendship was blossoming, and why no one understood it. Both Harry and Snape understood the other had a darker side. Although it had been created by the war, it did not go away simply because it had ended.

Neither feared the moments where the other’s thoughts would slip into darker territory. After all the two had been through, it seemed only natural by this point.

True enough, most of the girls had been in tears by the time Harry had finished speaking. Snape hadn’t missed McGonagall needing to dry her eyes afterwards.

Snape inclined his head slightly, conceding the point.

------

“Harry Potter!”

The Great Hall erupted in a chorus of cheers, hoots, and stomps. Harry made his way across the stage, shaking each of his teacher’s hands in turn. Snape was last in line, and the man met Harry’s eyes with an unreadable expression.

After the handshake, Harry made to pull his hand away but Snape held firm. Curious, Harry raised an eyebrow. Snape flicked his eyes to the left, and Harry’s followed curiously.

His jaw dropped in shock and he was only vaguely aware of Snape dropping his hand as his eyes lit upon the silver doe.

Snape’s patronus.

Harry hadn’t seen Snape’s patronus since the night he’d died, come back to life, and killed Voldemort. Snape, in turn, had never brought it up.

He turned back to the man who’s eyes were still upon him, although he looked slightly embarrassed at having been caught doing a…dare he think it—nice act? Harry held the man’s eyes for a long moment before finally turning away.

Harry’s eyes subconsciously closed, and he took a deep breath in, taking everything about this moment in.

Right now, this moment—it was everything he’d ever wanted.

His first year at Hogwarts, he’d been so worried about making friends. Specifically, whether or not he would make a single one. He couldn’t have known he would meet two life-long best friends who would be there for him throughout it all.

He couldn’t have known about all the other people he’d meet along the way that would become his friends as well. Pavarti Patil, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom…Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones…Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas…everyone that had been in the DA and everyone that had been in the Room of Requirement that night, waiting for him to tell them they were fighting.

All of these people who were cheering now. Cheering for him.

Standing there, staring at the silver doe that had been his mother’s patronus as well as Snape’s—it almost felt like she was here with him again, standing beside him the way she and James and Sirius and Remus had been when he’d made the final trip into the forest. This time however, there was something more real of her here than the Resurrection Stone could ever provide.

On impulse, he produced his wand from his sleeve and with a quick wave, muttered ‘Expecto Patronum.’ As always, the stag emerged from his wand and galloped over to the silver doe. A single tear escaped him. Both his parents were here now.

McGonagall saw where Harry’s attention had drifted and smiled openly at him when he came to stand before her at last. He shook her hand, and a wide smile broke out on his face when she pulled the brave young man into a hug.

Harry accepted the diploma at last, turning around to face the ground before holding it up in the air and giving an even wider smile. The crowd’s cheers grew even louder, if possible, and another minute passed before Harry left the stage at last.

He took his seat and his eyes flicked over to where the silver doe and stag had been. They turned and appeared to face him, each giving a small bow in turn. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat and he nodded back, watching the two disappear in a flash of light.

This moment meant everything to him.

----

After the ceremony finished, the after party spread out over all of Hogwarts—spilling over into Hogsmeade, even. The Three Broomsticks, for instance, was noticeable crowded; filled to the brim with students and their families all celebrating having graduated at last.

Harry found Snape in his office at around 9. Wearing an amused expression, he knocked on the door. Snape’s eyes flicked up, holding the green eyes he remembered from Lily so clearly. “Come in, Mr. Potter.”

It was a measure of just how much things had changed between the two that Harry simply flopped into the nearest chair. Harry watched Snape finish marking something, pausing to ask, “School’s out! What could you possibly have to mark?”

Snape replied dryly, “NEWTs. The ministry pays good money to those with masteries in subjects willing to mark the tests of students such as yourself.”

Harry smiled. “Oh? How’d I do?”

“Fortunately, I will not be the one marking your test.” Harry gave a laugh, but shortly fell silent.

Snape regarded the young man before him—before he could hardly be called a boy now—and how his perceptions of him had changed. He’d thought him arrogant, but couldn’t still believe that after knowing Harry had walked into the faced Voldemort in the forest with no protection—fully expecting to die—just to rid the world of that menace.

It seemed rather ironic that the Golden Boy was the one with a darker side—or rather, the one who understood having a darker side. After the things he’d seen in visions from Voldemort and the childhood he’d had with the Dursleys, Harry Potter might be the person with the greatest likelihood (excluding Dumbledore, who was gone now) of understanding Severus Snape.

“Professor?” Snape had heard that tone in Harry’s voice only once before—when Harry had asked to see his patronus.

“What is it, Potter?” He asked cautiously.

“Do you…” Harry trailed off without asking his question, but Snape waited patiently. “It’s just, you were her best friend…” Snape knew where he was going this from the moment Harry had said the word ‘her’.

There was no one else it could be—no one else it would ever be.

“Do you think she’d be proud of me? Happy?”

Snape considered Harry for another minute, not needing to think about the question. It wasn’t so much that Harry had changed since killing Voldemort—but more that Snape had noticed these changes since. Although he still looked identical to his father, but for his mother’s eyes, Snape had never realized just how much of Lily’s personality Harry actually had.

Snape waited until Harry met his eyes before replying. “Mr. Potter, I know she would.”

Harry nodded and gave a small smile. He was quiet for a long while, taking it in. Then finally, he spoke. “Harry.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Harry. You’re not my teacher anymore, and you don’t hate me.”

“I never hated you.”

Harry just laughed. “Right. Detention, Mr. Potter, for having the nerve to breathe in Potions class!”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I never gave you detention for that.”

Harry was quick to reply, “Sorry, I’d forgotten. It was for coughing too loudly.”

Snape vaguely remembered such a thing, and frowned. “It was during a test, and you of all people should remember how the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were watching the school that year— your 6th, if I remember correctly.”

It was something Snape had never gotten over, calling Voldemort the ‘Dark Lord’ or ‘You-Know-Who’. He and Harry had come to a compromise of sorts—Snape wouldn’t object when Harry referred to the monster by either his given name or pompous title, and Harry would remain quiet when Snape continued to refer to him as anything but.

The two fell silent for a long minute. Anything further either had to say on the topic would not contribute anything, and possibly start a fight. It was a minute or so before Snape spoke again. “I never hated you.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t reply. Snape waited a minute before speaking again. “Your mother would be proud of you,” he paused for a minute before tacking on “Harry,” remembering what had set off that line of conversation in the first place.

If someone had ever told Severus Snape that he would be on a first-name basis with Harry Potter by the time he graduated, Snape would have had them in detention until their grandchildren attended Hogwarts—regardless of whether or not they were actually his student. Or he would have had them committed.

Harry stood suddenly. “I should get back to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione are probably looking for me.” Snape inclined his head slightly towards Harry.

“You should.”

“I’ll be back later, Professor.” Harry was staying at Hogwarts over the summer. Snape knew he was planning to talk to McGonagall and see if could stay on next year as an Assistant Professor, to ‘test the waters’, so to speak, and decide if teaching really was the career for him.

Harry stopped at the door, turning back to face Severus for a second. Snape looked up and met his former student’s eyes. Those eyes had become a mark of his own as much as they’d been a mark of Lily—he’d grown into his own person, a mix of James, Lily, and just Harry.

Just Harry.

It seemed at last Harry had gotten what he wanted—to be normal. To be himself.

“Thanks, Professor.” Harry lingered for a brief moment after speaking, but then left. Snape waited until the footsteps faded away before replying.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

There were so many things Harry could have been referring to, but Snape knew what he’d meant. That was the one thing about this strange friendship between them—there were never any misconceptions about what had transpired between them.

Harry didn’t pretend that the years of being ridiculed in Potions classes hadn’t existed, and Snape didn’t pretend that he’d always seen the boy as his own person—not a carbon copy of his father.

With all of that out in the open, it made for a sometimes brutal honesty between them.

Snape knew what Harry meant.

Sometimes, Harry wondered that had always been true.

----

Harry reappeared in the dungeons again a few hours later, just a few minutes before midnight. Severus had long since decided he was not in the mood to mark NEWTs and retired to his quarters.

He was rather surprised at the knock on his door late at night. He knew it could only be one person, as very few knew the location of his quarters outside of the staff.

“Harry,” he began, watching as the young man broke into a smile with the realization Snape had remembered their earlier conversation, “what are you doing here?”

Harry shifted his weight onto his other foot and back again nervously—a habit he’d never quite gotten rid of. “I said I’d be back, didn’t I, Professor?”

Snape nodded. “I was under the impression you’d still be celebrating with your friends.”

Harry briefly smiled. “We were for a little while, but they’re celebrating with their families now--.”

Snape could sense Harry falling into a loathsome cycle of self-pity; something that had yet to fade, although it was becoming more and more infrequent. “So you thought you’d come enjoy the cool air down in the dungeons?” It was a mark of how far they’d come that Snape’s voice held only a hint of snark.

Harry had to admit the man had a point though—this summer was already gearing up to be a sweltering one—hot enough that students were beginning to prefer Potions in the levels below the castles over Herbology, which took place outside—in spite of the noticeable differences in teaching styles Professors Snape and Sprout held.

Harry nodded, and Snape wordlessly stepped aside to let Harry pass.

It wasn’t the first time Harry had been in the man’s quarters. The first time, Harry had asked to speak to Snape after class, but the man had been too busy and had asked Harry to come back after dinner.

As it turned out, Snape had a been harbouring a headache that had been building all day—something the man only cared to share with Harry after he asked why the man was about as quick to anger as he’d been in Harry’s sixth year.

Harry had wanted to talk to Snape about a Potions concept he hadn’t quite grasped in class—but had just about decided it was better left until a time when the pounding in Snape’s head had receded to a point that the Slytherins would deem it safe to approach their Head of House again.

Considering what Harry had given him as a Christmas present (he had never voiced it in words, and never would—but the photo of Lily during her Hogwarts years Harry had received in his photo album and managed to duplicate…was quite possibly the best present he’d ever received) Snape felt something suspiciously like guilt forming inside of him, for snapping at Harry when (for once) he’d done nothing wrong.

It had taken Snape a long time to admit that perhaps Harry hadn’t always been in the wrong—it had taken Harry even longer to begin to understand why Snape had been so blatantly unfair in his classes. The tentative mentorship that bordered on friendship had not been one easily formed—but it had formed nonetheless.

Snape had given up all hope of getting any work done, much like he had tonight, and retreated to his quarters. He’d extended an invitation to Harry to join him for tea or some other hot drink (it had been the middle of winter, after all)—though he was sure he hadn’t phrased it as politely as that.

They’d both discovered it was possible to hold a conversation with each other on an academic level without ripping each other’s heads off—another one for the history books.

After that, it had become a casual thing. Occasionally Harry would appear in Snape’s office after dinner under the pretence of needing help with a concept (never an actual assignment—Harry knew Snape would consider it an unfair advantage), and they would retreat to Snape’s quarters. Sometimes the conversation was purely academic, other times it wasn’t.

Snape got great enjoyment at finally finding someone who could banter with him—or at the very least, someone who could remain not too badly wounded by his sharp tongue.

Snape’s quarters weren’t elaborately decorated or fancy—not that anyone had ever expected them to be. It had the layout of a simple apartment, although it was much more open. He had a fairly big living room—with the plushest carpet Harry had ever felt, and had spent many a night wondering why more people did not choose to indulge in that type of luxury—and the other rooms branched off it.

There was a small kitchen, adequate for most things, tucked away in a corner. There were doors leading to two small bedrooms and a bathroom; a study filled with the small library Harry had never known Snape to have. Of course, there was a Potions lab—one Harry had needed to suppress laughter upon first discovering.

What Harry liked about it—and supposed Snape did as well, although the man had never said it—was the feel of the rooms.

It wasn’t exactly homely, so to speak—but it was nice. Warm. A large fireplace stretched along one of the walls, and Snape had a few couches and chairs positioned near it. There was one chair in particular—a cushy armchair right by the fire—that Harry had almost claimed as his own by this point in time.

Harry never thought he’d feel at home in Snape’s quarters, of all places.

He claimed his traditional spot by the fire, which he was surprised to see already lit. Had Snape been up at this hour, after all? It was only once he’d sunk down into the chair that he realized Snape had been talking.

“-highly doubt that you have spent a moment’s time in the presence of Molly Weasley where she has not made you feel like family.” Harry gave a small laugh. Mrs. Weasley had told him outright she considered him another one of her sons; and a slightly embarrassed Ron had added that Harry was his brother in every way but blood.

“It’s not the same.” Snape’s eyes lit upon him at this statement, and Harry turned his head to stare at the flames.

“Aren’t you supposed to be about finished with the teenage angst at this point in time? You have very little time left as a teenage by now.” Harry gave another laugh—when Snape wasn’t being malicious, he actually had a sense of humour.

“Yeah, but when have I ever been normal?” Snape handed Harry a cup of tea which he accepted gratefully.

“Merlin forbid.” Harry smiled suddenly, and the corners of Snape’s mouth twitched up in some sort of half-smile—as close to smiling as Harry had ever seen Snape get.

“Who knows what would have happened if I’d been normal? I might have been good at Potions then—top of your class, with the time to study for your tests.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Now there’s a truly disturbing image.”

Harry just laughed.

Things were going to be alright, after all.