But he was damned anyway.

Harry was awake.

He waited till he heard the outer door to Snape's chambers close before opening his eyes. The room was dark, faintly lit with one torch whose light shown into the room through a door behind him. He couldn't make out much even if the room was fully lit, since he didn't have his glasses. He could just make out the edge of the bed, from the difference in pigment of the greyish looking sheet against the black everything else. He flopped back onto the bed, relishing being able to move freely after so long.

And how had that happened? Had Professor Snape healed him? Harry's brow furrowed. He didn't know the Potions Master was a healer. But he supposed it made sense, seeing as he was always harping about how volatile brewing potions was. Offhandedly, he wondered how many times Snape had to heal himself. The idea made him giggle.

His first thought upon waking up was 'Merlin, I feel good.' He wondered why Snape didn't make him get up and walk the distance back up to the castle once he was healed, even if he didn't know how it had happened.

He was glad he didn't though. Harry was quite content with the way things turned out, even if it didn't all add up. He liked to think it was some wild bit of magic let loose by both of them that neither could control. It was easier to believe that the Potions Master had unleashed wild accidental magic because he had been so completely overwhelmed by what he was feeling as Harry's memories ran amok through his head. But that was only because he had such a hard time believing could feel anything, because that required a heart.

But, Snape had one though, or at least, he had a beating one. He had heard it, felt it beating a warm, steady tattoo into the side of his head as Snape held him, bringing him up to the castle, making him feel all full of something he couldn't even properly describe. All he knew was that, though he'd probably never admit it, something inside him had loved the feeling of waking up with warm arms around him for once in his life. For one brief, shining moment, Harry had felt what it felt like to be cherished, and he'd trade that for a year's worth of anything Snape could throw at him.

He reached up to scratch his head. Only, Snape didn't seem to be preparing to throw anything at him. The snarky Potions Master had tried to comfort him, in his own, awkward kind of way, back on the platform, he'd been nice, almost, and had healed him completely, even though he professed to not like him, had physically carried him up to the castle, and then had put him to bed in his own rooms. It all made Harry vaguely confused.

He'd given, of course, unintentionally, the man who seemed to be giving Voldemort a run for his money in Harry-hating prime material to make his life at Hogwarts as close to hell as possible, and a part of him had expected him to start right away. But he hadn't. Snape had actually been nice.

Harry scoffed. Nice? He was lying in the man's bed, up to his chin in blankets and wearing the softest Pajamas he'd ever owned in his entire life. 'Nice' didn't begin to cover it.

But why the sudden change? Was it because he suddenly felt sorry for him? Harry wriggled further down into the covers. He didn't want to think that.

He didn’t want to think about anything besides the here and now.

Right now he was here in Snape’s rooms, comfortable and warm and safe. Paranoid genius that warded everything that the Professor was, he’d probably warded everything down to the carpet to alert him if Harry so much as set one toe out of bed. Harry sighed, content. Nothing was going to come in and get him before Snape appeared and sent it back to who knows where. For the first time in his living memory, Harry felt really, irrevocably safe.

And on that note, a very sleepy Harry Potter rolled over and bid consciousness goodbye.

~*~

The walk up to the Headmaster’s office was long and winding. Not because Severus had taken a long turn while deep in thought and had subsequently gotten lost. At least, not intentionally.

Because Severus Snape was very deep in thought. So deep in thought was he that he correctly assumed he would not be done thinking all he had to think about by the time he reached the Headmaster’s office. And so he had taken a wrong turn, and another, and another, until he was quite possibly at the furthest point in the castle away from Albus’ office.

He paused, momentarily distracted by the sight before him. The Hogwarts grounds sprawled out below in the moonlight, the forest and Hagrid’s hut casting stark shadows in the silvery luminescence. There were fireflies dancing in the shadows and the squid skimmed the surface of the lake lazily, basking in the cool air and moonlight.

It was a tranquil scene, one very provocative of peace and serenity, but that did nothing of the state of Severus’ mind.

Because serene and tranquil he was not. He was, though his outward appearance would say different, waging a war in his head.

And it was all over The Boy.

Potter.

A voice heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Severus,’ said the Granger voice. ‘We’ve been over this. His name is Harry.’

Severus gave a mental eye roll. ‘Fine, Harry then.’

‘There. Was that so bad?’

Severus sneered angrily, whipping away from the beautiful scenery. ‘That’s the entire problem, isn’t it? It wasn’t. It isn’t! I’m not slowly dying in agony, I’m not bleeding out of my ears! THAT IS THE PROBLEM!!”

‘What?’ a voice said thickly. ‘Tha’ you awolly li’ ‘im?’

‘Ugh! Please swallow before you speak,’ said a disgusted three.

‘I like him, well enough. The problem is that I’ve spent four years trying to prove otherwise, convincing myself that I didn’t and coming up with ways not to.

‘Wai’ ’. There was a pause in which voice number two swallowed quite audibly. ‘Ah. That was good. But here, but didn’t you hate him because of James?

Severus paused at the top of a stairwell. Didn’t he? Didn’t he hate the very memory of one James Potter? Yes, he did. But truthfully, he did not hate the boy. He had no reason to. Sure, the child was impulsive, was reckless to the point of mortal endangerment, but he was not his father, and Severus could find no basis for his previous animosity, and no excuse for his behavior.

‘I don’t.’ The admission felt good. He decided to try it out loud. “I don’t hate Harry Potter.” The wall made no response. Severus scowled and walked away.

‘Of course you don’t,’ said Two sneeringly. ‘It only took you seeing the child bruised and bloody for you to realize it. Well done, O Wielder of Great and Powerful Skills of Deduction, well done.’

‘Why you little – ‘

‘Two! You know that’s not completely true. How could you say such things? You know Severus has always known how much he cared about Harry, even though he didn’t really know…’

There was a pause in which both Severus and Two thought over that declaration. Then,

‘Care to explain that obtuse bit of logic, voice?’

The female voice sighed. ‘It’s simple, really. Don’t you remember all those nights sitting up in the hospital wing, repeatedly asking yourself why you were there sitting beside his bed when you so clearly loathed him? Or last year when you completely worked yourself into an apoplectic fit when you saw what he had to face in the first Triwizard task. You tore into Dumbledore like he’d put your own son in there. Should I mention the whole protect-Harry-from-the-werewolf incident, even though you’re deathly afraid of them, mind you, and acting as his personal security detail while everyone thought Sirius Black was still a crazed mass murderer? Or maybe you forgot your near uncontrollable need to see him every time you heard he’d faced the Dark Lord?’

‘And let’s not forget,’ Two added silkily, ‘that awful tingling sensation you’ve been having in your arms lately, especially when you’re around young Harry. Tell me, how much longer do you think threatening to sever your limbs is going to work until they take it upon themselves to hug the boy, hm?’

With tremendous force of will, Severus forced both Two and the now scolding Three to a quiet, heavily padlocked corner of his brain. Of all afflictions of madness he could have been cursed with, why did it have to be voices? Why?

He had been a complete fool. Fine. He could accept that. He had added to years of pain that Harry could certainly have done without. It was painful, but he could accept that also.

But that Harry would continue under the impression that no one on earth cared beyond his ability to fight Voldemort, that was unacceptable.

~*~*~

The gargoyle guarding the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office was always such an ugly thing to Severus. It had a way of increasing his bad moods, and efficiently destroying the few good ones he ever had. He secretly believed that Albus had bewitched it specifically to annoy him.

Today, the gargoyle was looking positively gruesome. Its large nose made of rough stone cast a foreboding shadow in the hallway. Its large hooked nose made of rough stone cast a foreboding shadow in the hallway. Its open mouth seemed to be laughing at him. Severus growled. There was only one reason he would be standing there, taking in the gut-wrenching sight that was gatekeeper for the head of Hogwarts.

He did not know the password.

Severus growled. Hadn’t Albus given it to the staff just this week? It was the name of some odd sort of candy again, he was sure. His lips curled disdainfully. He was not going to stand around calling off names of candy one after another till he got the right one. He would wait for Albus to return first.

To his immense annoyance, several long minutes after he’d settled onto a stone ledge so conveniently nearby, several voices drifted down the corridor, only preceded by the general scrape and clatter that usually followed the exodus of the students from the Great Hall, groggy from a heavy mean and eager to gaining their beds. Severus frowned. Albus’ he recognized, Minerva’s was there as well, but the third, that last male voice was completely foreign to him, and he was not at all in the mood for welcoming guests.

The trio came into view much too soon for Severus’ liking, who had only heard a few words of what seemed like a grand speech being given to the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. “– Is of the opinion that the education of its youth is of vital importance, not only for the future of the Wizarding world, but for the future of magic itself. Children are perceived as gifts, and those gifts would become null and void if not given proper guidance and nurturing. I am saddened to report, Headmaster, that though under you tenure here, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has made tremendous strides and have continued to release many talented witches and wizards into our community, we at the Ministry feel that many things are left to be desired, and others require no modifications. The school had become unbalanced, undisciplined, and wayward in its teaching – “

It was here that the three made their appearance, and Severus was hard-pressed not to lay into the longwinded newcomer, Ministry employee or no. The speech continued though, even as they drew closer and closer to Severus’ perch, which was incidentally hidden in shadows.

” – that tradition will out, and some things, some decisions made today, while with the best of intentions, will be recognized in future as mistakes, errors of judgment that we will wish had never been made. It is, therefore, the mission of the Ministry to bring Hogwarts back into agreement with its magical customs, to forge ahead into an era of co-operation and openness on both ends, to retain and disperse knowledge that is fitting, and to do away effectively with information detrimental to our productivity.”

Severus chose this moment to emerge from his hiding place, not that he was hiding in the first place, and join the group that was now headed up the stairs to the Head’s office (the password was cherry flavored jelly beans, much to Severus’ disgust). At first, dark as it was, no one made mention of his appearance, though he had the sneaking suspicion that Albus saw him approach.

But that thought was thrown out the window in the bright light of the office former. Severus remained standing near the center of the room while Minerva sank into an armchair nearby, and Albus settled behind his desk. The Ministry official promptly lost his pompous posture and paled visibly. Severus almost smiled.

“W-who are you?” asked the perfectly coiffed blond man. Snape sneered. He resemblance to Malfoy, junior and senior, was overwhelming.

“This,” said Professor Dumbledore, “is my Potions Professor, Severus Snape. Professor, meet – “

“William McDaniel Corbin, the third, Ministry of Magic High Inquisitor of Education,” interrupted the short man, puffing his chest out. He had seemingly regained some of his oomph, and was giving Severus what was probably supposed to be an intimidating look. “You were not at the Opening Feast.”

Severus gave him a look that could have melted stone. “Obviously, or else I might have been gifted with the full version of that speech of yours.” He moved to stand closer to the fireplace, knowing that with his hair hanging loose the shadows the flames cast across his face made him look quite frightening. “The Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts I see.”

“Severus,” Albus chided. McGonagall said nothing, but hid her face quickly by pretending to be busy with a tea tray that had not been there before. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall. Two sugars please.” Albus had not taken his stern blues eyes off of Severus, and though he was studiously not meeting them, he got the message loud and clear. Behave. But his eyes were twinkling.

Corbin, though, seemed to have taken Severus question as a personal insult. He huffed and he puffed, and got red in the face, and Minerva leaned over to add so much sugar to her tea that Severus feared for her health. “Now you see here,” the young man sputtered unevenly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but let me say a few things to you – “

“No,” Severus stepped away from the fire, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-five-inches. “Let me tell you a few things. The Ministry is nothing more than a rather large group of idiots employing other idiots and making the few most unfortunate enough to end up with them carry out their idiot policies. Similarly, the Minister is nothing more than buffoon in a bowler hat, and has done nothing else in his entire time in office than convince those of the magical community with a functioning IQ what a complete and utter ass he is, and reduce the Ministry into a heaving laughingstock.” He towered over the smaller man, who was now quite visibly shaking. He continued, his voice pitched quite low. “And lastly, Albus Dumbledore is the only doddering old fool in this castle. I assure you, if your Ministry ever does anything even remotely harmful to any of the students under the tutelage of any of the Hogwarts professors, I will personally acquaint you with the more legal forms of torture and dismemberment. Do I make myself completely clear?”

“Y-you c-c-can’t d-d-do th-that!” shrieked the clearly terrified visitor. He was quite possibly whiter than a sheet. “I – I’ll report you to the Minister himself!”

This time, Severus actually smiled. It was a smile that more belonged on the face of a wickedly smug cat that was toying with its food, but a smile nonetheless. Corbin was not impressed; he paled further. “You do that.”

William McDaniel Corbin, the third turned wide gray eyes to the Headmaster, who hurried to school his face from one of sheer amusement to stern disapproval. “I don’t k-know what kind of school you’ve got running here, Headmaster, but you will be hearing from the Minister!” And with that, he scurried over to the Floo, threw in nearly the whole jar of powder, and in a shower of sparks, he was gone.

And then it happened. Severus and Dumbledore witnessed a natural phenomenon they were sure would never happen in a million years.

Minerva McGonagall laughed.

And if that wasn’t earth-shattering enough, she laughed so long and hard till tears ran down her face, her usual pin tight bun came loose and her steel-grey hair hung loose around her shoulders. McGonagall laughed her way out of her chair, one hand alternately clutching her head and stomach, while Severus and the Headmaster could do nothing but watch in protracted awe.

Finally, the show came to a close, and Minerva, still erupting into giggles, begged her superior’s forgiveness. “Albus, I am truly sorry.” More giggling. “ I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. It was Severus…. I was just imagining the looks he would have given him in the Great Hall … buffoon in a bowling hat… Albus please, I must deposit this into my pensieve. I am so very sorry, but may I please go. Did you need me for anything else?”

Professor Dumbledore dismissively waved a hand, eyebrows still raised. “No, Minerva, nothing at all. ‘Tis no trouble. Good night. I trust you can make it up to your rooms alone?”

She shot him a grin. “Yes quite fine, Headmaster. Good night.” Her eyes briefly flickered over the other occupant in the room. “Good night Severus.” The office was again swamped in the sound of her laughter, drifting in from the stairwell.

‘Sweet Circe…’ Severus was shocked, to say the least. ’That was odd…’ When, at last, he was able to pull himself together enough to move, he turned questioning eyes to his mentor, and found the ice blue orbs twinkling at him.

“Doddering old fool, am I?”

Severus, who had unconsciously been preparing for a well deserved tongue-lashing, relaxed. It seemed that Dumbledore wasn’t upset by his actions; he seemed rather amused.

“Hhmm,” he replied, noncommittally. He was in no mood to entertain the old man. There were specific things he needed to bring to his attention. But first,

“I assume there was substantial cause for our Deputy Headmistress to dissolve into a fit of giggles worthy of an over-exuberant third year Hufflepuff?”

The twinkling increased tenfold. “Ah, but didn’t you hear? She gave us a reason. She was quite upset with the things our newly instated Inquisitor had brought to our attention, and, in keeping with a bet she made with our dear Sybil, I believe, fought to remain calm and not ‘rant on and on about such mundane things as misfiled paperwork and improperly pronounced spells in the name of righteous indignance’, and I quote. As she said, she had been imagining you doing just what you did on our way up here, and I think the slight meltdown we witnessed had more to do with nearly three months of frustration being released than with any possible humor in the situation.”

“Indeed.” It was enough to make his head spin. Had he been hiding under a rock for the past two months of the summer? He mentally shook himself. There were more important things to attend to.

“Incidentally, Albus, there is an actual purpose to this visit.”

The older wizard smiled sadly. “So this is not a personal call. My, my, Severus, how you must truly loathe this old man. You refuse to spend anytime with him, and you chase away those who would. I do believe I’m beginning to think that you want me to leave this world completely bereft of friends.”

This evoked no response from the dark haired man. Instead he replied, “It concerns an aspect of my employment.”

The change was immediate, and startling to any who had not been privy to this demonstration before. With several swift complicated sweeps of his wand Albus Dumbledore secured the office from both inside and outside. When his eyes returned to rest on Snape, the trademark twinkle was gone, and he was faced with the man everyone knew as the greatest wizard of the age.

“Has something happened with Voldemort?” was the softly spoken question.

“No,” was answered just as softly, as seriously. “The other one.”

Large white eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Harry?”

One sharp nod. “Indeed.”

Blue eyes met black in an action that had been practiced countless times before, up until fourteen years ago, one reaching out, expecting the other to yield and to divulge the secrets that needed sharing. Severus had no intention of yielding tonight. Albus would view these memories the old fashioned way, and then, he had some explaining to do.

“Severus, what is the matter?” Worry was most evident in this version of Albus, the grandfather many of the students saw daily. Severus was not moved. Silently, he moved over to the cabinet holding many of Albus’ personal effects, and withdrew the pensieve. Carefully setting it down in front of the older wizard, he focused on the memories that Harry had forced upon him, pushing down the feelings he had forced him to accept, and drew them out one by one, all the ones he had seen personally and smaller, older ones that had filtered in under the haze of pain that had blinded them both.

When he was finally done, he felt drained, and refused to meet Albus’ eyes. “You will watch.”

Without question, the wizened wizard grasped his wand firmly in his had and touching the tip to the silvery surface of the pensieve, disappeared.