The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, August 1996 (20)

"James!"

A mass of brown hair was plowing its way through the Leaky Cauldron's patrons like a combine through a wheat field. A ticked off looking Ron was being dragged along behind it, oblivious to the crowd's testy looks. By the time they arrived at Harry and Snape's corner table, Ron resembled a ruffled rooster; Hermione was beaming.

"Hi," Harry said, grinning.

"James." Hermione grinned, then bussed his cheek and squeezed him as if it had been ages since their last meeting.

Harry held her just as tightly, but on an inhale, his stomach seesawed: she smelled of Soth-ince. One of the first things Harry did when he woke up was jut his head out his window to get a whiff of the cottage's wild garden. That same confluence of scents emanated intoxicatingly from Hermione, as if she had bathed in them - he couldn't resist burying his nose in her hair for a moment.

"Hey Har -" Ron began. In a flash, Hermione wrenched herself out of Harry's arms and rounded on Ron to boot him in the shin.

"OW!" Ron clutched his injured leg. "Bloody hell, Hermione! What was that for?"

"His name is James," she hissed.

"Bollocks! ...Forgot." Ron glared at her. "You could've just said something instead of tryin' to maim me! I'll probably be bruised for weeks!"

"Well, be more careful," Hermione said coolly. Ron rolled his eyes and limped over to Harry, his hand outstretched.

"James." Ron drew out the name in a spot on imitation of his brother, Percy.

"Ron," Harry said, laughing. When he shook Ron's hand, aggravation at his lack of letters all summer fled.

"This is weird," Ron said, looking Harry up and down. "You're as tall as me now - and that accent..."

Harry scowled at him good-naturedly then jerked his head away when Ron reached to muss his hair.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"Mum and Ginny are shopping for robes. Dad's at Fred and George's."

"Oh, right! Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! How's it goin'?"

"Fine, great, in fact... They're even thinking to open another shop in Hogsmeade."

"Really? That's brilliant! You finally had a chance to see the shop, then?"

"Yeah, earlier today, but just for -"

Hermione startled at a slight movement behind them; unknowingly, they had migrated into a tight circle as they talked.

"Oh! Prof - Mr. Brockman!"

"Miss Granger," Snape said. Harry edged back to open the circle as the man stood up.

"Sorry..." he said. "Ron... er, this is, um, Edmun' Brockman, me uh..."

"James's dad," Hermione said, piercing Ron with a sharp ‘You promised to behave' look. Ron then pressed his lips so tightly together Harry thought McGonagall might have been envious.

"Sir," Ron said. Harry frowned at his icy tone, but if Snape was bothered by it, he didn't let on.

"Mr. Weasley," he said, with a slight nod. "'Tis a bit o'ercrowded in here fer a proper reunion. P'rhaps we shou' make our way out." As he gestured for Hermione to lead the way, Ron cast him a nasty glance. Harry sighed softly.

"Where to first?" Hermione asked, once they had passed through the Leaky Cauldron's brick wall to Diagon Alley. The winding street buzzed with the crowd of late afternoon shoppers.

"Gringotts," said Harry. "We'd only just arrived before you two showed up."

"Well, let's go," Ron groused, after being jostled by a corpulent wizard pushing past to enter the pub.

*WO

As they walked, the three teens laughed and chatted animatedly. Hermione's parents had escorted her to the Leaky Cauldron and were allowing her to spend the last two weeks of the holidays at the Weasley's. Marking the excitement in her voice, Harry reflected on how when forced to languish at the Dursleys he had always resented the thought of them all together without him. Now, though, for the first time in a long time, he was content with where he was; he was content at Soth-ince, and with Snape.

Ron was beginning to fill him in on Charlie's recent arrival from Romania when Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas popped out of Flourish and Blott's. The boys were a flurry of hand gestures, grins, and trash talk about what could only be football.

"Oy, Weasley! Hermione!" Seamus fairly shouted.

"Mate, they're not deaf," Dean said. Seamus boxed him in the shoulder.

"Go hang, wanker," he said. "Fancy meetin' you lot here... Who's this?" Seamus eyed Harry confusedly.

"Hey, shh!" Ron grabbed hold of the boy's arm, looking about nervously.

Seamus's eyes shifted pointedly from Ron's face to Ron's hand, bewilderment quickly spiraling into a fiery attitude. "Weasley -"

"Seamus, please, you don't -" Hermione began.

"Draco, if I had known what a wastrel you would be with my time, I would have asked Lestrange to escort you here."

That chilling drawl froze everyone in place. Then moving as though they were being viewed at a slowed down speed through Omnioculars, they all turned to see Lucius and Draco Malfoy exiting Madam Malkin's.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione squeaked and stumbled back, crushing Ron's foot, though he took no notice.

Harry inhaled harshly at the sight of Lucius's silver-gray eyes; it was through sheer force of will that he shuttered his own against the rage he knew must have shone in them.

"Well, well, if it isn't one of the Weasley pups," Lucius said, drawing out ‘Weasley' so that it sounded like an oath. Coldly handsome, his sharp features twisted beneath his ever present sneer, suggesting he would rather eat slugs than exchange words with the young blood traitor.

"Where is the rest of the brood? Tripping over themselves to do Dumbledore's bidding? I daresay, young Weasley, you might do well to take lessons from your elder brother - Pepe, is it? He rather has his priorities in order..."

"My brother's priorities are anybody's guess," Ron said, red-faced. "In any case, I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut about him!"

"Still a tender subject, hmm?" Lucius slapped a white, lambskin glove against his palm as he spoke.

When he did this, Draco flinched. Harry noted that, oddly, the blond boy seemed to find the cobbled pavement more intriguing than the scene before him. Where normally Draco reveled in watching his father verbally destroy someone, his thin face now reflected something other than Malfoy arrogance. Harry had no time to ponder it, though; Lucius had set his sights on Hermione.

"Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you up and about following your... mishap."

Recovered from her initial shock, Hermione lifted her chin and boldly opened her mouth to retort, but Harry put his hand on her arm and moved to stand in front of her.

"Ah... Who have we here?" Lucius eyed Harry as if his Muggle T-shirt and jeans might be contagious. "Another Mudblood amongst the - one, two, three - already in attendance? Or are you an embarrassingly unorthodox Pure-blood like Potter's penniless sidekick, there?"

Ron cursed, then edged around Hermione to lunge at Lucius, but Dean, and Seamus - who threw a vigorous two-fingered salute at the man - held him back. Harry had stiffened, infuriated, but he smiled inwardly when after twirling a finger beside his leg, a faint breeze stirred Lucius's hair causing the man to look about uneasily. Then Snape stepped close behind Harry and put a hand on his neck, squeezing gently, yet there was nothing admonishing in the touch. Harry leaned into it, grateful for its grounding effect, but he was stunned by Snape's reaction to Lucius; it didn't seem to faze him that the man who had had a hand in nearly killing him was standing a mere five steps away.

"I be Edmun' Brockman, an' this be me boy," Snape said, melodic Cornish accent firmly in place. He then stuck out his large, farm roughened hand. "An' you'm?"

Lucius coldly ignored the neighborly gesture. "Lucius Malfoy," he said, then nodded at Draco. "This is my son, Draco."

Snape slowly withdrew his hand, taking that unguarded moment to observe the boy. Once Draco realized he was being inspected, a familiar insolence took hold, yet it failed to fully mask his troubled aura.

"Ron! There you are!" Mrs. Weasley came jogging heavily across the street toward them. Ginny, laden with parcels, ran lightly alongside her. "Why aren't you at Fred and George's?" Mrs. Weasley snapped, bosom heaving.

"We got held up..." Ron lifted his chin in the Malfoys' direction. Mrs. Weasley turned to look at them.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said. Though still breathless from running, the frostiness in her voice was plain. That the man had been amongst the monsters that had attacked children at the Ministry - including two of hers - was obviously still fresh on her mind. Her eyes blazed as she inserted herself between Lucius and her son.

"Molly," Lucius said.

Now, Harry wasn't conscious of his mouth falling open, but the poisonous look Mrs. Weasley fired at Lucius was well worth the price of looking utterly witless. Though he had witnessed Mrs. Weasley's wrath directed at her children rather a lot, he had never seen her target someone she didn't like; it was lava-like in its intensity. Seeing the Slytherin quail beneath the strength of that glare was a sight to behold, but, no less surprising than Lucius's reaction was Draco's: he had blushed at his father's blatant tactlessness. 

Observing the boy's reaction, Mrs. Weasley said, "Draco," but, her voice was softer now, kind.

Draco raised his head, his expression unwittingly mirroring Ron's gape-mouthed shock. His pale eyes, simultaneously wary and confused, searched hers until his father's fingers began to bite into his shoulder. He grimaced, then eventually twisted free.

"Come," Lucius said, and spun angrily on his heel. Draco followed, but not before casting a strangely hungry glance back at Harry and Snape.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head at the Malfoys' bizarre interaction, then turned to face the group behind her.

"Ron, your father is still at the shop. I told him we'd meet him and leave from there."

"But, Mum, H -" Ron coughed and glanced at Harry. "We still need to stop by Gringotts and then get J-James' things."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes went wide, quickly touching on both Harry and Snape in turn; but she wasn't the mother of seven for nothing. Over the years she had mastered the ability to transform her features at the drop of a Sickle to reflect whatever mood was occasioned, and though Lucius was gone, appearances still needed to be maintained.

"Yes, well, all right," she said, shifting her purse so that she could give Harry a quick, fierce hug. "It's so good to see you, Harry," she whispered into his ear. She then grasped Snape's free hand in both of hers, wringing it while giving a moist-eyed glance to the man's other hand still resting comfortably on Harry's neck. She turned to Ron.

"Instead of waiting, I think your father, Ginny and I will go ahead. Why don't you -"

"Mum! The sooner you stop blathering, the sooner we'll be at Fred and George's!" Ron said.

"All right, yes, fine," Mrs. Weasley said, as Ginny began steering her back across the street toward the twins' shop. "We're meeting at - Ginny, stop pushing, I'm coming! - Ron, you know where!"

"We'll be there!" Ron called exasperatedly.

"Well... We gotta go, too," said Dean, glancing at Harry curiously. When Seamus made to open his mouth, Dean elbowed him sharply in the side. "Let's go. Your mum'll be ticked if we're late. See you guys at school." He nodded goodbye, then dragged a protesting Seamus along behind him, heading for the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and the others resumed their journey to the bank.

"Malfoy should be rotting in Azkaban after what he did at the Ministry!" Ron spat.

"How did he get away?" Harry asked, in total agreement with Ron, though not only for that reason. "The Order had the Death Eaters wrapped up like presents for the Aurors, didn't they?"

"It didn't matter," Ron said, apparently well-versed on the subject and eager to let them know. "A rogue Auror helped him escape."

"Rogue Auror?" Harry parroted.

"Aye," Snape replied. Harry looked at him, amazed the subject had never come up before now.

"Well, isn't that all the more reason to arrest him, ‘specially since one of their own helped him?" he asked.

Ron snorted. "That guy is long gone. Plus Malfoy's got an alibi. Dad said that Mrs. Malfoy claims he was home that night, not at the Ministry."

"And they believed her?!" Harry asked. "What about the Order? They all saw him!"

"All the Death Eaters were masked -" Snape began.

"But he was there!" Harry insisted. "He tried to get the Prophecy from me!"

"We know that, but without definitive proof, they've nothing to arrest him on, let alone convict," Hermione offered.

"What rubbish!" Harry fumed. "If they'd done their job, if they'd had trustworthy people working there, Malfoy wouldn't have been free to tort -"

"Oh, don't!" Hermione clutched his arm. Harry followed her gaze and mentally cursed his thick-headedness; Snape had blanched and his jaw muscles were jumping spastically.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, thinking life would be simpler were the phrase simply tattooed across his forehead.

"Le's jus' git this o'er with," Snape said as they ascended the steps into the bank.

"We'll wait here," Hermione said once they entered the lobby. Harry nodded, then he and Snape crossed to the counter, quietly requesting access to Harry Potter's vault. 

If the goblins found it suspicious that the blond haired, hazel eyed boy before them in no way resembled Harry Potter, they queerly kept it to themselves. Harry had the key to the vault and that seemed good enough for the gruff, long-fingered goblin assisting him, who simply nodded and called for an assistant to escort Harry and Snape to a cart.

"I'd rather go by meself, sir, if yeh don't mind," Harry said when Snape made to follow him. He didn't know Snape's financial situation, but regardless of who he was with, visiting the bank made for an uncomfortable time as the Potter vault housed an embarrassment of riches.

"Ev'rything all righ'?" Snape asked. Harry nodded. Though clearly unconvinced, Snape said, "As yeh wish... I'll stay here."

Harry held the man's concerned gaze. "Sir? I-I'm sorry about earlier. It was just, seein' Malfoy, ‘specially after he hurt -"

"Stop," Snape said quietly. "Jus' go git yer money an' stop frettin' o'er things yeh can' help." He reached out and quickly smoothed a puckered corner along the shoulder of Harry's T-shirt. Harry offered up a shy smile then hurried over to the scowling, foot-tapping goblin.

Following the nauseating cart ride Harry eagerly rejoined Snape in the waiting room. Out in the main lobby he was surprised to find Hermione and Ron laughing and talking to Bill Weasley. When Ron pointed, Bill turned, his pony-tail flipping to land on his left shoulder, exposing his fang earring. Harry grinned and jogged over to shake his hand.

"Well, you've grown into a much more handsome bloke than I recall!" Bill crowed, garnering piercing glares and hisses of "Silence!" from the surrounding goblins.

"Old sourpusses." Bill laughed. "Always shushing me, saying I'm too loud. Quiet just doesn't cut it in the Weasley household, unless you're Dad, Charlie or Percy, still, I ‘spose we should go on outside." He cast a merry wave back at the glowering goblins.

On the bank's steps, Harry stopped Bill. "This is, uh -"

"Mr. Brockman, I presume," Bill said, grinning broadly as he grabbed Snape's hand. "Pleasure!"

"Cert'ly," Snape muttered, slipping free of Bill's enthusiastic grip.

"Well, we'd better fly before Mum sends a Howler to the Ministry reporting us missing," Bill said.

"I haven't got me books yet!" Harry protested. 

"Oh, right," said Ron. "Let's hurry! I'm starved..."

"It's too late," Bill said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione glanced at her watch. "It's not gone six yet."

In response, Bill nodded toward the street: Florean Fortescue was magically shifting his wrought iron bistro chairs to rest on the tables in front of his ice cream parlor, and an employee of WhizzHard Books had her wand out, dismantling a large sale book bin to bring inside. All along the narrow thoroughfare the shuttering of doors and windows echoed eerily as one by one shop lights began to wink out.

"By order o' the Ministry?" asked Snape, speaking low, even though the darkening street was empty of the pedestrians that had swarmed it only an hour ago.

"Yeah," Bill replied gravely. He gestured for everyone to start walking. "Took effect two days ago. You-Know-Who's people have been getting nastier. There's been an increase in vandalism of the stores whose owner's don't openly support him. Shopkeepers complained to the Ministry for doing nothing to combat it, but instead of helping, it ordered them to shut down early. Scrimgeour pleaded limited Auror's resources."

Ron gave a snort of disgust. "Dad can't stand him, Scrimgeour. Says since he's become minister, he's lost his boll -"

"Ron!" Hermione poked him sharply in his side.

"Actually, Ron's right," said Bill. "Even now, when everyone knows that You-Know-Who is back, the Ministry still seems determined to take a back seat."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said. "Why wouldn't they want to help? Goodness knows they need all the public goodwill they can get!"

"Well..." Bill eyed Harry, who blushed, "they're hoping another tactic will prove more effective." Snape growled darkly, prompting a knowing chuckle from Bill.

"You said all the shops have been vandalized?" said Harry, so keen to ignore Bill's words, he missed Snape's reaction.

Bill grinned mischievously. "Well, there's always the exception, eh? Besides Knockturn Alley businesses, the only place that hasn't been hit is Fred and George's. They concocted some sort of repelling spell that not only sends you flying if you're up to no good, but it recognizes -" He glanced at Snape who was listening just as intently as the others.

"What?" Ron pressed.

"Er -" Bill stalled.

"Dark Marks, Mr. Weasley," Snape said, his lips barely moving. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself when Bill nodded. Harry glanced at Ron and knew instantly what the redhead was thinking.

"But, not everyone who has one is evil!" he burst out. He flashed a fierce look at Snape, whose ruddy farmer's complexion reddened further. Ron rolled his eyes exaggeratedly; Harry shot him a heated look, causing him to blush.

"Well, what exactly does the spell do?" Hermione asked, breaking the loaded silence.

"Tosses would-be vandals out into the street," Bill said. "They had me test it. It failed the first time, but the second time, I couldn't break it. I had a bruised backside for two weeks thanks to those jokers!" Bill chuckled. "None of Mum's old remedies or potions from St. Mungo's worked. Just had to let it heal naturally," he said, rather ruefully.

Harry looked over at him and couldn't help but snicker at the image of Bill Weasley, the essence of wizarding cool, wincing, and unable to sit comfortably. That got Ron going and soon Hermione was giggling along with them, making them laugh even harder. Snape caught Bill's eye, and in tandem, the two men rolled their eyes skyward.

"Let's go," Bill said, herding the teens up the pavement. "Let's see if Mum, Dad and Ginny have left yet."

"I'll go..." Ron said. He ran ahead to pound on the door of the only shop with lights on. Even if all the other shops' lights had been on, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would have outglitzed them all with its kaleidoscopic, headache-inducing display.

"Fred! George! Open up you gits!"

Seconds later the door was ripped open by an annoyed Weasley twin growling, "Oy! You ‘bout gave us a bloody heart attack!"

"Oh, shut up Fred," Ron said. "Harry," he mouthed, "is with us. Let us in so he can see the shop before we leave."

Fred's face brightened as he searched the group for the dark haired boy. "Well of course, of course! Where is young Master Po -" Ron clapped a hand over his brother's mouth, shaking his head violently.

"Just let us in and we'll explain," Ron hissed just as someone up the street yelled for ‘Cooper' to ‘hurry up.'

Shoving Ron's hand away, Fred waved him inside. Hermione and Bill followed, but just as Bill was telling Fred that he would need to use the counter-spell to allow Snape in, a commotion erupted on the pavement. Harry, Snape, and George, who had come out to bring in a ‘Don't have the stomach to Apparate! Go Muggle and escape by skate!' display, were still outside the shop when someone crashed into Snape, who fell into Harry, sending George flying back inside the shop, with Harry landing on top of him.

Snape was shot back into the street, setting off a klaxon sounding alarm and a flood of light.

*WO

Harry scrambled to his feet, earning a groan from George after trodding on the redhead's back. Racing to Snape's side, he cringed at the all too familiar scenario of Snape on the bad end of magic. A flurry of activity sprung up around them, but Harry only had eyes for Snape who was conscious, but dazed.

"...damn!"

"My ears!"

 "Damned idiot! ...was that?"

"...turn... alarm off!"

The shop's lights winked out, extinguishing the garish orange spotlight on Snape. Seconds later, the alarm fell silent.

"Cooper!"

"What?"

"Are you dense, boy? You just knocked that man over, didn' you?"

"Sorry," Cooper whinged. "But you told me to hurry!"

"S'all right," Bill said, waving the father and son on; they had started back toward the melee. "We're fine."

"You sure, mate? That one hit the ground pretty hard, didn' he?"

The man tried to inch closer to peer around Fred, Bill and Ron, who were doing their best to shield Snape and Harry from view.

"S'nothing we can't take care of," said Fred, shopkeeper's grin pasted on his face.

"My boy, he must a' been runnin' full steam to knock your man that far adrift, eh?" The man boasted. "Bloody pill, he is, yeah?"

"More like bloody menace," Ron muttered, so that only his brothers could hear.

"Sure, sure," said Bill, trying to quash the impatience in his voice. "Thanks for the concern!"

As soon as the man and his son were a good distance away, Bill, Ron, and Fred rejoined the others.

"What the hell -" Harry snarled, gently lifting Snape's head.

"The spell!" Hermione said.

"Guess it work - Ow, Hermi -!"

"Be quiet!" Bill growled.

"It shouldn't have worked!" Harry hissed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He doesn't have the Mark anymore!"

"WHAT?" Everyone exclaimed.

"He doesn't have it! Wormtail... burned it off!"

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth and stomach, looking decidedly green; Fred and George swore loudly.

"Let's get him into the shop, Har - Oh, hell, let's just go!" Bill said.

Arms slung about Bill and Harry's shoulders, Snape leaned heavily on the two, but they could only grasp his arms to hold him up as his back was the source of agony. At the shop's entrance, he balked, but Harry murmured, "S'okay..."

Even so, Snape hesitated before venturing over the shop's threshold. Once inside, George led them back to his and Fred's office where Harry and Bill eased Snape onto a small sofa after George conjured a large fluffy pillow for his back. Soon, the tiny space was crammed with everyone save Fred who was busy locking up the front; moments later, he crowded into the doorway next to George. Crouched in front of Snape, Harry rested his hands on the man's knees, his hazel eyes liquid with worry.

"Is there anythin' I can do?" Harry's voice was quiet, but it sounded like the peal of a church bell in the oddly still room; it unsettled him. He shifted to look up at everyone.

"Could yeh give us a minute?"

For ten full seconds, no one moved or spoke. Finally, George blinked, realizing he and the others were gawking at Snape and Harry as if they were monkeys in a zoo. To lighten the mood and shift the focus off the two blonds, he cleared his throat to speak in his best Muggle butler impression: "You heard Mahster Pohtter, let us repahr to the sales floor, shall we?"

Harry smiled briefly in appreciation. George winked at him as the others obediently scooted past, then shut the door. Harry looked back at Snape and said the first thing to come to mind.

"We should go ho -" He quickly clamped his eyes and mouth shut, mortified at what he had almost said. ‘Home?' With Snape? What had he been thinking? He kept his eyes tightly closed against the disgust, horror, or whatever unsavory expression he expected to find on Snape's face.

"Potter," said Snape, his voice hoarse with pain. Harry opened his eyes. "Firs', dinner -"

"No!" Harry gripped the man's knees gently. Snape's expression was that of a man trying to stave off a shout or groan of pain; Harry mentally kicked himself; of course, the man was in pain.

"You're hurt! You can' sit through some dumb dinner! We'll go now." He stood up, decided. "I'll just git Bill in here -"

"No," Snape groaned. He pointed a thick finger at Harry. "Yeh... heal me..."

"What!? I can'!" Harry sputtered, suspecting the pain had affected Snape's reasoning. Why else would he willingly volunteer himself when neither knew for certain Harry could perform healing magic without possibly aggravating the pain - or worse? Harry knew he couldn't - wouldn't - be responsible for that.

"Jus' le'me go git Bill!" he pleaded, his accent thickening as he grew more upset. He made to leave, but Snape swiftly latched onto his wrist. When he groaned at the effort, Harry quickly relented.

"Jus' concentrate," Snape gasped, "on what yeh... wan'." Harry was nearly undone at the man's next words. "Trus' yeh... I know yeh can do it."

"No, I don' wan' ter hurt yeh..." Harry said softly. Instinctively, he took Snape's hand in his, squeezing gently; when Snape squeezed back, Harry's eyes welled up.

"Yeh really wan' me ter do this?"

Snape jerked his head up and down as a stab of pain gripped him. Though rife with misgivings, Harry moved to sit next to him, then gently eased Snape forward so that he could lay hands on his back. Breathing shallowly, Snape rested his head on his arms; Harry blinked, amazed at how readily the innately stoic man had surrendered his well-being to him, but instead of firing his confidence, that naked trust invited paralyzing thoughts of inadequacy and fear.

Healing Fang's ear had been a fluke, purely unintentional, and Harry wondered how he could now consciously do the same for Snape. With Fang, he recalled that helpless, guilty feeling, making him desperate for the dog to be okay, but again, he hadn't been conscious of doing magic. And it wasn't that he wasn't just as desperate to relieve Snape's pain, it was just undeniably different. As much as Harry had come to love Fang, Snape was a different animal - literally. If something went wrong, he couldn't bear it. Not now.

Then Snape groaned again. Suddenly, Harry was willing to do anything, go to any lengths to relieve the man's pain. He decided that if something did go wrong, Bill and the others were just the other side of the door, and St. Mungo's was close. But, more importantly, Snape believed he could do this; he hadn't asked to be taken to hospital - he had asked Harry to help him.

With that in mind, Harry forced himself to focus. "Jus' concentrate on what yeh... wan'..." He closed his eyes, took a breath.

Heal Snape, make him better!

Instantly, a rush of energy poured forth from his fingers, causing him to marvel at how remarkably different it was from what he now thought of as his ‘normal' wandless magic. This magic, this healing magic, overwhelmed him with a surprising depth of feeling. It was like a chorus of warmth washing over him.

It echoed how he felt every time Snape had unquestioningly treated every ache he had complained about. After overindulging in Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart, Snape hadn't thought to scold Harry, but had simply served up a potion to ease his queasy stomach. Then one weekend, when felled by a vicious summer cold, Pepper-Up Potion had failed to relieve Harry's symptoms, and Snape had prodded him to drink what tasted like straight Scotch disguised as a hot toddy; Harry had giggled goofily for fifteen minutes before passing out. In his haze of congestion and stuffiness, he wondered how a Pure-blood Slytherin came to know such a common Muggle treatment. But Pure-blood or no, having the ability to return the favor filled Harry with sheer, unadulterated elation.

This is easy, he thought, delighting in the lush, light energy flowing out of him, making him tingle all over.  I could do this all day! This is what magic should be about! Helping people you care about, people you lo -

"Potter!" A voice echoed, calling to him from far away. "POTTER!"

Harry choked as his hands were clapped tightly together, abruptly severing the flow of magic. Spent, he collapsed against the solid presence next to him, and curled into the arm wrapped snugly around his shoulders. A large hand gently cupped his head, bringing it to rest against a spicy-smelling chest, the heart within galloping like a thoroughbred.

At Snape's shout, a commotion erupted outside the door. It burst open, Ron's roar leading the charge.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

Snape responded by casting a flinty gaze up at the boy; Ron fell back a step.  

"Professor... what happened?" Hermione looked down at Harry slumped against Snape. Kneeling, she peered at the boy intently, clearly wanting him to wake up and tell them what had happened, but Harry remained silent and unmoving. She turned to Snape, eyes demanding and fearless.

Hers were not the only ones.

"I asked him ter heal me," Snape said quietly. Awed gasps filled the room.

"Why's he out like that?" Ron said, either unimpressed or too worried about Harry to comprehend that he had just healed Snape with magic.

"He expended a lot o' energy," Snape said, as plainly as he would to a toddler. "He jus' got a li'l carried away... I think."

"Carried away?" Ron said. "He looks..."

"...happy," Hermione said, noting the loopy grin at Harry's lips. She grasped his hand, squeezing gently.

Ron's lip curled in disgust. "More like Imperi -" He fell silent at a hard glance from Bill.

Hermione frowned, then her expression cleared.

"In one of his letters, he mentioned how ‘a lot had happened...' So he's done this before? For you?"

"Aye." Snape swallowed audibly. "Bu' not fer me... He splinched Fang's ear... T'were an accident, bu' he took it hard. He held the dog fer a mo' or two, an'... he healed him."

When Harry moaned softly, Snape shifted him so that Harry's head rested more comfortably against his chest.

Refusing to let the ‘happy' comment go unchallenged, Ron said, "Why would Harry be hap -"

Bill gripped his arm tightly. "Not now," he whispered forcefully. Annoyed, Ron jerked free of him.

Hermione startled when Harry squeezed her hand. "Harry?"

Snape looked down to find the boy smiling sleepily at her.

"Hey, H'rmi'nee," he said. She laughed, blinking back tears. "Where... Dad?"

Silence descended like the blade of a guillotine in the tiny office.

"Who?" Hermione squeaked.

"Snape - where's he? S' he okay?" Harry asked, unaware he was leaning against the object of his concern.

Ten pairs of stunned eyes slowly locked onto Snape.

Looking like Fang caught raiding the biscuit tin, he stammered, "H-he's exhausted - don' know wha' he's sayin'!"

"Sounded dead clear to me," Bill said, looking as if he were biting the inside of his cheek to prevent laughter escaping.

At a loss to dream up a more disturbing scenario Ron's mouth moved soundlessly; Fred and George eyed one another as though they had come into possession of every counter-curse to Gringott's vaults; Hermione simply gazed at Snape, a Mona Lisa-like smile quirking her lips. When he looked away, clearly uncomfortable, she cast her attention back to Harry; he looked achingly content leaning against Snape. When she and the others burst into the room, she hadn't failed to notice the man gently stroking Harry's hair; despite his stuttering reaction only seconds ago, he was still doing it.

Beginning to feel like a pickled toad on display, Harry sat up straighter. Snape did the same, taking care to remove his arm from around Harry and lean away from him.

"What happened?" Harry asked, sounding clearer, more aware. He looked to Snape, who was studiously avoiding his eyes.

"You healed the Professor," Fred said.

"I did?" Harry looked the man over, grinning excitedly. "It worked?"

"Aye, Potter," Snape grunted. "...Thank yeh."

"Great!" Harry looked around happily, but his smile faltered at the variety of expressions on everyone's face. "Why do yeh all look so... weird?"

"We can talk about it later, Harry," said Bill, a wry grin curling his lips. "Mum's sure to think You-Know-Who has us strung up in a dungeon somewhere. We need to go... If you're up to it, Professor?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Weasley." Snape stood easily, leaving no doubt he was healed.

With everyone gathered outside the shop's entrance, Fred and George muttered their anti-vandal spell; Snape kept well away. As the group set off up the street, Harry rubbed his eyes. He felt a bit drained, but the tingly feeling he'd felt while healing Snape, lingered pleasantly. Feeling Snape's eyes on him, he shifted to give the man a warm smile; Snape nodded curtly, but that was all.

*WO

The Glass Hoof, Ottery St. Catchpole, August 1996

On the London street outside the Leaky Cauldron, everyone paired up to Apparate to the Glass Hoof. As Snape was unfamiliar with it, Bill took Harry, Fred took Hermione, George took Ron, and Bill returned for Snape. Harry had barely recovered from the Side-Along Apparition when he was set upon by Mrs. Weasley outside the pub.

"I was beginning to think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must've got hold of you lot and strung you up in a dungeon somewhere," she said, gripping Harry in a rib-crushing hug. Bill rolled his eyes at him in an ‘I told you so' manner. Harry laughed - as soon as he could catch his breath.

With one arm around his sore ribs, he shook hands with Mr. Weasley. Ginny gave him a gentle hug, then ran a hand through his hair, teasing him about his ‘tamed mane.' Shortly, Fred and Hermione popped into existence, the latter grinning happily, having obviously enjoyed her first Side-Along Apparition. Snape and Bill were the last to arrive and when they did, everyone gathered around a large round table in a private room at the back of the pub, chattering noisily.

Renowned amongst wizarding locals, the Glass Hoof was a Tudor-era pub located on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Families, including the Weasleys, Lovegoods, Diggorys and Longbottoms, had all celebrated weddings, birthdays and some funerals there. But there were other families whose pedigree, though not as esteemed, were welcomed just the same. The families' rejection of Pure-blood dogma fostered a close-knit bond, but it was also a lightning rod for danger, thus, the pub's location was protected by the Fidelius Charm.

The cozy room they had commandeered smelled so strongly of shepherd's pie, mead, and pipe smoke, Harry believed the wood used to construct the pub had been infused with them. Nevertheless, he reveled in the scents as well as the cheerful din of those around him.

Ron, sitting to his left, was fighting off George who was trying to remove a smudge of dirt from Ron's cheek resulting from the spill he'd taken outside the pub after Apparating. On his right, Hermione was laughing into her hands at something Bill said. On the other side of the table, Snape sat next to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry glanced over to find all three of them looking at him. He blushed and ducked his head when he made contact with Mrs. Weasley's ever tear-filled eyes. Next to Hermione, Fred and Ginny were conversing; Harry raised his head sharply at the mention of Percy.

"You've been in contact with him, then?" Hermione asked.

George nodded. "Yeah, he wised up when Scrimgeour tried to get him to spy on us."

"What!" Harry gasped.

Fred nodded grimly. "Ol' Scrimgeour knew Percy'd split with the family, but he figured Percy could still find out where you were ‘cause you and Ron are close. He told Percy that if he didn't get the information, he'd see to it he no longer had a job. Said he was lucky he and the rest of Fudge's lackeys hadn't ended up in Azkaban after failing to properly investigate claims of You-Know-Who being back."

Mirroring his twin's sneer, George said, "He went on, quoting rubbish from the Prophet, calling Percy a willing participant in a Ministry cover-up. Never mind that he was just as heavily involved with Ministry stuff as Head Auror."

"Percy was terrified they might threaten him with something worse, like hurting us, so... he actually agreed to do it for a while," Ginny said, reddening a bit.

"He told Scrimgeour I was at Hogwarts?"

Mr. Weasley, his balding pate shiningly reflecting the light of the chandelier overhead, nodded sheepishly as the adults were now drawn into the conversation. No one missed the angry narrowing of Snape's eyes at Mr. Weasley's admission of his third son's behavior; Mrs. Weasley gently patted his hand in an effort to soothe him. Snape looked down, then schooled his features to reflect cool indifference, but those china blue eyes still burned.

"Was weird," Ron said, picking up the thread of the story. "Y'know Percy would have done anything to move up in the Ministry, but one day he just spilled everything to Dad, told him what Scrimgeour was up to."

"But, Scrimgeour wouldn't have harmed anyone... would he? Just to get to me?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I think it was just an extraordinarily effective bluff," he said. "Rufus was Head of the Auror Department and a protégé of Moody's. The man's a seasoned interrogator trained to get information out of the slickest criminal. I just wish Percy had come to me sooner instead of telling Rufus where you were."

"That's why you said what you did to Malfoy..." Harry said to Ron.

"Yeah, I'm sure his ‘sources' are telling him that Percy's happily playing Scrimgeour's lapdog," Ron said. Though Ron had treated Percy rather cruelly when he broke with the family, there was no mistaking the blatant note of pride now coloring his voice.

"Do you think Percy will be able to keep up the charade?" asked Hermione.

"He knows what he's doing," Bill said, but his eyes flicked to his father; Mr. Weasley managed a tight smile for his son.

Everyone turned when Mrs. Weasley sniffed. Alarmed, Snape whipped out his pocket square and passed it to her. She smiled at him gratefully and dabbed at her eyes.

"He's in such danger, she sobbed, "and we've only just come together a-again."

"Molly, dear," said Mr. Weasley, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Percy is much too clever to allow himself to be caught. Plus, he knows what to do if he feels that he's been compromised in any way. We've talked about this."

"I know... It's just..."

"Mum," George said. "Percy'll be all right. Fred and me have seen to it that he's got a decent stock of Decoy Detonators and U-No-Poo. If he's found out, the shi -!"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley screamed.

Raucous laughter broke out around the table as Fred mimed the consequences of ingesting one of their shop's hottest items. Harry caught Snape's eye; taking in Fred's antics, the man cocked a pale eyebrow as if to say, Gryffindors. Harry grinned and ducked his head.

"So, what's goin' on with you and Snape?" Ron asked, now that everyone else was properly distracted. Harry thought his tone gruffer than necessary.

"He's been training me all summer," he said, grin sliding from his face, "or hadn't you heard?"

"Look, it's just weird seeing you two acting like you are!"

"Like how, exactly?" Harry could feel his skin heating.

Ron leaned in close, and whispered harshly, "You called him Dad back at the shop!"

"I didn'!" Harry sputtered and whipped around to Hermione for confirmation; her half-baked smile told him otherwise. Bewildered, Harry looked at Snape again, but he was deep in conversation with Mr. Weasley. Harry racked his brain for what he had said in Fred and George's office: Had he really called Snape, Dad?

"Well, tha's his role, innit?" Harry shot back defensively and he hoped, convincingly.

"If you say so, but - you haven't been calling him that all summer, have you?" asked Ron, his puckered expression remarkably similar to Lucius Malfoy's outside Madam Malkin's.

"No, I haven't! Not that it's any of your business!"

"Guys," Hermione said, lightly touching Harry's arm. "We're supposed to be enjoying dinner, not arguing..."

"Yeah, give it a rest," Bill said, looking pointedly at Ron.

Ron snapped his mouth shut and angrily plunked his elbows on the table. He cursed when his left elbow landed in something cold and squishy. Bringing it up to get a look, he spied the uncovered dish of sour cream that hadn't been there a moment ago. Fuming, his eyes landed on the twins who were conveniently engaged in conversation with a quivering Pygmy Puff George was holding in his hand.

"Elbows off the table, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, Ron, elbows off the table!" chorused the twins.