Harry's room, the guest room on the third floor that the twins had once occupied, was directly under Sirius' bedroom. Because of this, Harry had a hard time falling asleep, listening to Sirius moving about in his bedroom before getting into bed. Snape had knocked on his door just after they'd all retired, speaking quietly and warning Harry that he'd wake him at three so they could seek out the horcrux while Sirius was sleeping. Not the most convenient time to carry out a horcrux theft, but Harry had certainly done worse for this particular one.

Harry woke quite suddenly when he heard thumping just past midnight. There were no other noises, but it sounded as if something was rhythmically thumping against the floor above Harry's head. Knowing that the horcrux was likely under Sirius' pillow, Harry started imagining what it was trying to do to Sirius. Was he just having another nightmare? Or did the horcrux realize Harry was in the house to destroy it, and it was strangling Sirius in revenge? After another minute, Harry even imagined that he heard a pained groan.

Deciding it wasn't worth waiting until three, Harry slipped out of bed and grabbed his wand and watch.  The hallway was quite dark, and only a tiny beam of light filled the top of the stairs, from the Muggle street lamp outside. Harry turned for the stairs, before stopping at the door to the room next to his.  Harry knocked quietly, hoping the wards Snape would have put up would wake the man up. They did, and in a few seconds he was faced with a half awake potions master, hair dishevelled, and a pair of black sleep trousers under his nightshirt.

"Sirius," Harry whispered, his eyes wide open. "I heard noises and I think he's in trouble."

A determined look crossed Snape's face, and he retreated into the room for a second to retrieve his own watch. Holding Harry back, Snape was the first to go up the stairs.

The sound was louder outside Sirius' bedroom door, and the thumping had turned to an alarming creaking noise. A chorus of 'no's could be heard, and a muffled list of names were chanted as Snape raised his hand to test the door.

"James. James. Lily! Reg, Reg! James!"

With just his hands and a small amount of whispered charms, Snape was able to slide the door open against Sirius's half-hearted door locking charm. When they reached the inside, Harry was taken back at what he saw.

A fire had been burning in the grate, but had been reduced to embers in the freezing room. Pictures and posters from Sirius' youth were on the wall, some slashed with a knife, some left as they had been. 'Kill the rat,' had been written under a picture of the four marauders, that not even Sirius could break his own sticking charm on.  There were stacks and stacks of the Daily Prophet around the room; back issues that Harry figured went to 1981, and above the bed a crudely shaped Order of the Phoenix symbol had been carved into the wooden headboard.

Sirius himself was buried under a mound of blankets, his black hair like spilled ink on the white pillows. There was no sign of the locket, and he was twisted in the covers as if he'd gone to war with his bed.

Taking quick stock of the situation, Harry looked around the room and realised that they'd have an easier time if they tried to take the locket while Sirius was still sleeping.  Snape seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he pulled Harry close to whisper to him.

"If he wakes, pretend to be concerned about his nightmare," Snape very lightly said.

"I am concerned!" Harry hissed back. "Are you sure it's there?"

Snape took Harry's hand and placed it on the bed, just missing Sirius' kicking foot. The blankets were ice cold, like the rest of the room, but Harry could also feel a malevolence spreading across the mattress.

"Damned traitor," Sirius grunted, his anger muffled only by the pillow.

"Don't underestimate lunacy," Snape muttered in warning as he approached the other side of the bed. His eyes darted about for a few seconds as he searched for the locket, and then he narrowed in on the upper part of the pillow.

"You can't take me," Sirius said, growling in a low voice that sounded as if he was seconds from transforming into his animagus form.

Snape paused, his fingers poised above Sirius' head. He glanced at Harry, who shook his head. Sirius was still asleep, just talking. Threatening.

"He'll never give me up, Harry Potter," Sirius warned again, and Harry waved his hand quickly in the air. Sirius wasn't talking in his sleep, the horcrux was.

Snape had already transfigured his watch into the dagger though, and held it up slightly higher than Sirius' shoulder. He counted down with his free hand, with Harry watching silently. At ‘two', Sirius' eyes snapped open and he snarled, causing Harry to jump back in surprise.

"Murderer!" Sirius bellowed, twisting to grab at the dagger Snape was holding. Harry fumbled with his own, holding it in his wand hand and trying to search for the locket. Sirius was struggling with Snape, yelling about Snape trying to kill him.

"Sirius! You were having a nightmare!" Harry shouted, making sure he was out of punching range. After another few seconds Snape stepped back from the bed, the dagger in his hand, blood on his wrist, and his hair in his face. He looked irritated, and was glaring at Sirius. Sirius, who was caught up in the blankets with his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

"Dumbledore was a fool to have trusted you!" Sirius spat, focusing solely on Snape. "Come to murder me in my sleep, just as I suspected. Was Harry next on your list?"

"It's in my best interest that the Chosen One lives," Snape sarcastically retorted.

"You won't rest until you've destroyed the last Marauder, is that it?" Sirius sneered, ignoring what Snape had said. "Revenge for the prank I pulled when we were kids?"

"I don't care about revenge," Snape evenly lied, and Harry was impressed that he was able to tell such a massive lie with a straight face. "I want that locket."

Sirius looked triumphant, and smiled nastily as he untwisted the blankets around him.

"It said you would. Your lover's locket, of course you'd try to steal it from me."

"Lover?" Harry squeaked, keeping his voice down.

"I have never had a male lover, certainly not your wet younger brother," Snape snapped, pointing his wand straight between Sirius' eyes. "Give it up. The rat for an heirloom, and I want that locket."

"You'll never get this," Sirius said, holding up the locket. It glinted in the moonlight from the window, and the chain was lightly tangled in Sirius' hair. "A greasy-haired traitor like you; you don't deserve anything with our name on it."

"Oh, but you do?" Snape taunted. "I suppose that's the virtue of being a Black, no matter how hard you try, you can't tarnish the name further."

A flash of red exploded against the back wall as Sirius angrily cast some sort of curse. Harry heard a pop of apparition and Snape suddenly appeared beside him, pulling him away from the bed.

"Don't do anything stupid, Black," Snape warned, trying to tuck Harry behind him. He had his own dark wand trained on Sirius, and even though was in his nightclothes, looked rather intimidating.

"No regrets," Sirius smugly said, taking aim.

"Get ready," Harry warned, whispering. He was still standing partially behind Snape, but had his foot next to his professor's. "I'm going to open it."

Snape subtly tapped his foot against Harry's, and stepped enough to the side that Harry was fully visible to Sirius.

"James?" Sirius asked in sudden confusion, finally noticing Harry in the room.

"Open," Harry hissed, watching intently and hoping that the horcrux would hear him. It clicked open with enough movement that Sirius dropped it in surprise, staring with wide eyes at the dark shadowy smoke escaping from inside the locket.

A putrid smell encompassed the room and Sirius gaped in shock at the spidery shapes emerging through the smoke. Harry quickly realised that the room was a lot smaller than the forest area he and Ron had destroyed the horcrux in, and saw that the disgusting black smoke would likely fill the entire room. He tugged on Snape's housecoat, pulling Snape down to the floor where they watched the macabre shadow show above.

"Sirius Black, the man who wasn't good enough," the horcrux said, its voice higher in pitch than Harry remembered. "Not enough to keep the secret to save his friends, not enough to raise their boy."

Sirius was still somewhere on the bed; Harry had heard him backing up into the headboard to try to escape the locket.

"Only fit to inherit from his family due to no one else surviving," the horcrux continued.

Harry finally recognized the figures taking shape, first his parents, then himself, and then the Black family.

"It doesn't know which of us wants to kill it," Harry whispered, kneeling on the floor. He had his dagger in his hand, but couldn't see where the locket was due to the low hanging spectre.

"I have also seen your mind long ago, Harry Potter," the horcrux said. "The boy who is destined to be an outsider. Undeserving of a real family, guiltily admiring the intelligence of the man who killed your mentor."

"What?" Harry hissed, shaking his head in confusion. Unless the horcrux was recalling those nights camping when Harry had finally come to terms with how well his Prince's textbook had taught him...which it probably was.

"This needs to shut up now," Harry muttered, pulling out his wand. Snape had cast a lumos spell, but it did nothing to disperse the black smoky cloud of shapes.

"Accio chain!" Harry commanded, and was pleasantly surprised to see the chain of the locket struggling toward him. He knew the locket and the horcrux didn't respond to a summoning spell, but took the chance that the chain itself had been overlooked.

Harry heard a pained grunt, and finally the locket was flying toward him, chain first. He swung his dagger in a downward motion, smashing the glass of one half of the locket and nearly stabbing it into the floor. Snape's dagger missed Harry's hand by centimetres as it was stabbed precisely and viciously into the second half of the locket. The terrible shrieking noise emitted from the dying horcrux echoed in the room and made Harry wince, but it lasted only a few seconds and finally the disgusting smoke cleared.

Sirius was still pressed back against the headboard, a stunned expression on his face as he looked at them on the floor. His wand was held lightly in his hand, a lumos spell faltering. Snape was the first to rise, dusting the dirt from his housecoat before leaning over and pulling Harry to his feet.

"Likely catch a disease, sitting on that floor for a length of time," Snape grumbled, giving a disdainful look to the cluttered room.

Harry picked up the now-harmless locket, ensuring that none of the glass pieces came out of the cracked parts. He noticed the chain had a small clump of hairs caught up in the links, likely getting caught when Sirius had thrashed about in the bed waking up.

"Sorry about your hair," Harry said, holding up the chain.

...

"Would one of you like to tell me just what the hell that was?" Sirius demanded, flicking his wand at the lamps in the kitchen with enough force that the ensuing bursts of flame almost escaped the candleholders.

"Left over present from Voldemort," Harry said, slipping into one of the kitchen chairs with a yawn. Snape sat near him, inspecting the cut on just above his wrist.

Sirius stared.

"I need whiskey," Sirius said, starting to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. He had a bathrobe on over his nightshirt, but had left it untied and the ends flopped about as he walked.  "Kreacher!"

Harry stayed sitting at the table, his arm propping up his head as he stared out the window into the tiny back garden. He was very glad that they'd destroyed the locket, but rather hoping that the conversation could be saved until morning.

Kreacher responded to the bellow with a surly look, his pillowcase uniform haphazardly hanging off his shoulder as if he'd just been woken.

"Yessss, Master Sirius?"

"We need more whiskey," Sirius barked. He glanced at Snape and seemed to come to a decision. "Enough for two."

"One," Snape immediately corrected. "I don't imbibe."

"Of course you don't," Sirius muttered, absentmindedly checking to see how much Floo powder was in the pot on the mantel.

"Why not?" Harry asked, curious. He'd always pictured Snape as a man who drank fine wines, or cognac.

"I don't like to lose control," Snape answered, watching Sirius kick a log into the fireplace and light it. "A pot of tea, Kreacher."

Kreacher was not pleased at having to make tea for everyone in the middle of the night. Harry figured that Kreacher hadn't had much of a life to be happy about recently though, and had come from a long line of house elves where the expectations were for nothing but a cruel life and a final resting place on the gruesome wall of elf heads to look forward to. Still, he watched the small house elf effortlessly fill a large copper kettle and put it on the stove, grumbling as he did it, and remembered what had been most important to Kreacher in his past life.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, sitting back up. Snape was watching him from across the table, where he was bandaging his wrist. Sirius slammed the cabinet doors of the back kitchen pantry, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a bottle under his arm.

"Found one," Sirius needlessly said.

Kreacher didn't acknowledge Harry's thanks, but paused at what Harry said next.

"We destroyed it; Master Regulus' locket. It's finally gone."

Sirius stopped dead where he was, and stared between them. Kreacher was looking at Harry with a curious expression, as if he wanted to believe Harry, but years of disappointments had trained him not to.

"I know you went to a cave with Regulus, and I know about the poison. I also know what promise you made him, and it's done. It's destroyed for good," Harry said with finality, pushing the locket onto the table toward Kreacher. There was an uneasy silence in the room, and Harry knew that both Snape and Sirius didn't quite know what he was talking about. He could explain later though, for now he was watching as Kreacher reverently picked up the locket and studied it, running his finger over the cracked glass casing. There were tears in the little elf's eyes, and Harry was extremely glad that he'd not burst into hysterics like the first time that Harry had given him Regulus' locket.

"Thank you, Master Potter," Kreacher finally said, and bowed his head slightly. He disappeared with a pop, and Harry was quite certain that he'd gone to his little boiler room to stash the locket in his dirty blankets.

"He doesn't deserve that," Sirius said, as Harry stood up to make the tea. "That's a Black family heirloom."

"He more than deserves it," Harry answered right back, sloshing water around the teapot to warm it up first. "I know exactly what he went through to get it."

"You didn't even know he existed until a month ago," Sirius scoffed. He took another swig of whiskey and Snape rolled his eyes.

"We know about the locket, the elf knows about the locket, and you don't think anything unusual is occurring," Snape muttered.

"Oh, I'd like to know just what the hell was in that thing," Sirius snapped, pointing his glass at Snape. "And I'm sure Dumbledore would also want to know what sorts of tricks you're up to."

"Tricks?" Snape said, raising his eyebrow. "Carving up pieces of someone's soul is slightly more gruesome and involved than a simple party trick."

"I'm not falling for it," Sirius adamantly said, glaring at Snape. "You knew more hexes and curses than any first year when we got to school; I know you cooked up this...this thing...to make me lose my mind."

"It was a horcrux, Sirius," Harry neutrally said, too tired to listen to another fight. "A container that holds part of a soul, to make sure you can live even if your body is destroyed."

Harry brought the tea to the table, handing Snape a mug with the spoon still in it. Sirius appeared to be having issues processing what Harry had said.

"It's not taught as any form of standard education, so it is unlikely that someone as academically disinclined as your godfather has any knowledge of them," Snape commented.

"Harry, don't leave the spoon in the tea," Sirius automatically said. His pureblood rearing was kicking in.

"Snape likes it that way," Harry shrugged, stirring milk into his own tea. "It's a real horcrux. If I wanted you to lose your mind, we would have left you in Azkaban."

Sirius still looked like he didn't believe them, and Harry wasn't sure if it was the late hour, the experience he'd had, or the whiskey.

"So now that you've destroyed it, You Know Who is dead?" Sirius blandly said.

"No," Snape bluntly replied, as if talking to a simpleton. "He made seven of them."

"Seven? But the only way to divide a soul is by murder..." Sirius said, his face deathly pale. He dropped into his seat and nearly crashed the empty whiskey glass onto the table.

"Well, it is Voldemort," Harry shrugged.

"How do you know this? Dumbledore?" Sirius demanded, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed. Harry thought he'd probably look the same if he'd been woken up from a demonic nightmare to find out that Voldemort had made horcruxes.

"Sort of," Harry answered, looking to Snape for guidance.

Snape put his mug back down on the table, a strand of his hair pulled by the spoon as it went.

"We know this because this isn't the first time we've gone through this little seek and destroy," Snape said, making it sound like he'd been directly involved the last time. Harry supposed that he rather had been, just unknowingly.

"The boy's eleven. When did you do this, when he was still in his nappies?" Sirius questioned, pouring himself more whiskey.

"He's eighteen," Snape said, pointing his finger at Harry.  "Which is why we know exactly what we're looking for, and why your little game of hide the locket cost us four weeks of unnecessary delay."

"You've come back in time," Sirius dully said, his hands thunking to the table like deadweight.

"Yes," Snape simply answered.

"Something went wrong, and you were sent back?"

"No," Snape replied, giving Harry a look to not say anything.  "It is merely easier to search for these little...gifts, when not involved in a full blown war."

"We're going back to war?" Sirius immediately asked, sitting up straighter. "Right, we'll be prepared this time. I'll give Grimmauld Place to the Order, and we can recruit - I assume Dumbledore will still be in charge of the Order?"

Harry gave Sirius a strange and sad look, as he remembered Sirius' eagerness the last time. His eagerness to help, his eagerness to fight, to prove himself, and how it had lead to his own death.

"Yes, he is," Harry said, shivering slightly. Snape noticed, and with a roll of his eyes, transfigured a pile of linen serviettes on the table into a small housecoat.

"That's why you know each other," Sirius continued, watching them carefully.  "The locket said you wanted to take Harry from me."

"Take him and do what, exactly?" Snape snidely asked, finishing his tea. "He's scrawny, arrogant, and absolutely useless with potions."

"Which has absolutely nothing to do with the way the class is taught," Harry grumbled back. If he didn't know any better, he would think that Snape's lips twitched upward in slight amusement.

"He'll be a great wizard one day, just like his father," Sirius snapped.

Snape stood to fill his mug with the tea that was left in the pot.

"He already is," Snape bluntly said. "I'm going to bed."

"Good idea," Harry distractedly said, watching Snape with a bemused expression. It was the first real compliment he could remember Snape ever giving him, something he'd never imagine Snape would say in front of another person.

"We'll talk about this more in the morning," Sirius said, giving Snape a determined look. Snape regarded him blankly.

"Of course."

Harry went up first, wrapping his arms in the warm housecoat and nearly stumbling on the large risers of the stairs. Sirius walked behind him, in a much better - if slightly drunker - mood than he had been since he'd first returned to Grimmauld Place. Snape took up the rear, silent and thinking.

"G'night, Sirius," Harry said, stepping into his room. He heard Snape calling Sirius' name as he turned to close his door. Snape had his arm raised, and Harry was just about to ask what he was doing, when Sirius looked back and Snape cast.

"Obliviate."

Harry blinked dumbly and watched as Sirius let a small drunken smile slip onto his face, and wandered back upstairs.

"What did you do that for?" Harry demanded, clutching the doorknob.

Snape pointed at the bed and followed Harry in.

"We are not telling anyone of the time travel, especially not Sirius Black."

Harry tossed his housecoat toward the dressing chair in the room, not caring that he missed it.

"Why not? He's stuck in the house, maybe he could help us."

"Because instead of planning things out, he acts like an impetuous two year old," Snape grumpily answered. He picked up the housecoat from the floor and instead of transfiguring it back to the serviettes, draped it over the chair.

"He doesn't always," Harry stubbornly argued, climbing back under the blankets of the bed. "And he can help us find the last horcrux."

"Doesn't he?" Snape asked, taking a sip of his tea. "Does a year on the run from Azkaban, breaking into houses in Hogsmeade, slashing portraits at Hogwarts, and dragging a boy with a broken leg through a two mile tunnel seem like the actions of a rational man to you?"

Snape had put his mug down, and had crossed his arms. Harry looked away, playing with a thread on the bed sheets.

"Not particularly. But it's not as dumb as Lucius Malfoy's plan to get the prophecy."

Harry looked up just in time to see Snape's small smile.

"There is that. What did the horcrux mean about your guilty admiration?"

Snape waited patiently as Harry closed his eyes, slipping further down the bed so he was lying on his back. He finally answered, having carefully thought of what to say.

"When we were camping for that year, there were a few times I wished I still had your book. Your potions book. Because as bad as that spell was that I used on Malfoy, I still used that book to save Ron's life, and to brew nearly perfect potions."

Harry was looking up at the constellation pattern painted on the ceiling of the room, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Snape hadn't moved.

"As much as I hated you for killing him and thinking you'd betrayed us, I did realise that you're practically a genius with potions."

Snape didn't apparently know how to take the compliment, as he let his arms drop before nodding slightly.  Harry waited for him to say something about the family comment, about the horcrux mocking him for not having one and not deserving one, but Snape didn't.

"We will leave at noon tomorrow, and I will be in the library for most of the morning," Snape finally said, standing straight. "I am certain you and Black can amuse yourselves without me."

"Yep," Harry answered with a sigh, taking his spectacles off to put on the nightstand. "Go back to disliking you?"

"Yes," Snape answered, dousing the candles in the room. "And do not mention any lockets, he won't remember it."

"All right," Harry sleepily agreed. "G'night."

Snape paused at the door, casting his own small lumos spell on his wand to see.

"Good night, Harry."

Two minutes later, when Harry rolled over to get more comfortable, he noticed in the moonlight that Snape had forgotten his tea mug on the dresser by the door.

...

The last thing Harry had checked on his way to the Leaving Feast was the journal that he communicated with Snape in. The Hogwarts Express wouldn't leave for a few more days, but the big party of the year would be tonight, and Harry was quite looking forward to it. This year Gryffindor had won the last quidditch game, and by his calculations, won the House Cup fair and square.

"Your scar is next."

Harry could picture the written words in his mind - he'd not left a response - and he worried about what Snape's plans were for destroying the horcrux in his scar.  Harry knew he was going to use the Philosopher's Stone, and he suspected the Basilisk's venom would be involved as well. Snape refused to tell him what the plan was though, so he'd just have to wait until the day after the feast, when Snape had planned it.

"Harry, I think we've won, you don't need to look so worried," Ron joked, slipping into the seat next to Harry in the Great Hall. Gryffindor banners hung from the rafters, a giant lion banner was behind the staff table, and little ribbons of red and gold were floating in the air. Harry smiled as he looked up at the front table, where Dumbledore was beaming down at the students. 

"Another end of year has come, and this year we have a change of decoration in the room," Dumbledore happily said. Harry tuned out the rest of the speech as he watched his classmates all looking eager and hungry as they sat at the tables.  Everyone seemed so unguarded, happy, carefree, looking forward to the summer holidays as if their only concern was the distant end of summer and return to school.

He looked toward the Hufflepuff table and saw a small third year Cedric Diggory, obviously not yet having reached his growth spurt. He laughed with his friends, and Harry wondered if Cedric ever had an inkling that he only had three years left to live. The feeling settled sickly into his gut, and Harry hoped that the feast would soon start so he could eat something and sooth his stomach.

He glanced up at the front table, where all the professors save one were watching Dumbledore. Snape was focused on Harry, his eyebrow slightly quirked as he tried to work out why Harry wasn't looking as content as his friends. Harry shook his head though, forcing himself to think instead of what they'd managed to accomplish since coming back. Only two horcruxes were left, his scar and the ring. Sirius had been released from Azkaban, Kreacher's loyalty had been swayed to their side, and he only had to spend two weeks with the Dursleys before he could go to Grimmauld Place.

There. He had plenty of things to look forward to, even if the thought of redoing all his schooling made him feel slightly depressed. Snape had theorized that once the horcruxes were destroyed that they'd be yanked back to their own time, but Harry wasn't as certain. He'd not been in the magical world as long as Snape, but he was very familiar with magic not being particularly fair.

"Three cheers for Gryffindor!" Harry suddenly heard Dumbledore call, and the Great Hall erupted in cheering. Glancing at Snape once again, Harry broke into a smile at the slow, irritated applause Professor Snape was giving.

...

Harry walked along the hallway to Snape's private flat area, kicking off his shoes and stowing them under the cloak rack.  He'd slipped out of Gryffindor tower, his excuse of going to see Sirius barely heard over Ron's ranting.  Scabbers had been revealed as Peter Pettigrew, and Ron had naturally been quite upset to know that the pet rat he had been caring for the entire year had been the very man to expose Harry's parents to Voldemort.  Not quite as upset as Molly Weasley, who'd thrown a veritable fit about the safety hazards and who was on a deadly hunt to find out just exactly where Percy had found his little pet rat. To let Ron blow off some steam, Harry had lent him his broomstick before leaving.

"Snape?" Harry called, walking into the empty living room.

"Laboratory," Snape answered, from down the tiny hallway. Harry walked to the lab, stopping suddenly at the door. There was a blanket up on the worktable, a pillow on the blanket, two very bright lanterns overhead, several vials and stoppered bottles at the head of the worktable, and a large Muggle first aid kit on Snape's desk. A small tray was in the middle of the whole set up, with Snape's dagger watch on it, and a small syringe that was filled with a vile liquid the same colour of the Basilisk's venom. A large plain drinking glass sat beside it, containing a bright blood red potion.

"You're going to cut it off," Harry dumbly said, staring from the doorway. Snape, standing by his back bookcase and wearing only a dark t-shirt and his work trousers, studied Harry's face carefully. He had his reading glasses on, the dark thin frames contrasting with his pale face.

"Yes."

"What if it kills me?" Harry asked, not moving any closer into the room.

"It shouldn't," Snape immediately countered. "Plenty of idiotic children split their foreheads open, with minimal brain damage."

Harry gave him a dubious look.

"Yeah, but they don't get Basilisk venom on the wound," Harry pointedly said.

"It's a risk," Snape admitted. "And our only option."

"Shouldn't we get the ring first? Maybe we need parseltongue to get to it," Harry theorized.

Snape crossed the room and sat on his stool by the worktable, but he didn't beckon Harry any closer. Harry finally noticed the antiseptic smell in the room, and it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better.

"You're never normally nervous to jump into something risky," Snape observed. He plucked a tie from the tray on the worktable and tied his hair back, in a practised move that distracted Harry in its simplicity. When did Snape ever wear his hair back?

"What?" Harry asked. "I was a right mess when I had to face the dragon in fourth year. And going into the lake for that task. And going after the Basilisk."

"And facing the Dark Lord," Snape added. Harry nodded, still standing by the door of the room. He felt incredibly short - even though he'd spent five months again as an eleven year old - here with Snape discussing his potential death, he felt overwhelmed.

"I already died once," Harry said, green eyes staring at the Basilisk venom in the syringe. "I can't do it again."

"We don't always get the choice," Snape rationalized. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Feeling unthreatened by Snape (and certainly quite familiar what fear of the man felt like), Harry approached the worktable and pointedly did not look at the dagger on the tray. Snape had swung one of the work lanterns closer to himself, and in the light, Harry could see the white ribbons of scars on his neck from Nagini's bite.

"This is the culmination of my service with the Dark Lord," Snape said, his low voice rumbling. Snape's thin fingers passed over the bumpy skin, tapping it lightly. "Death at the hands of his snake familiar - a very unpleasant way to go, I assure you."

"But you weren't afraid," Harry insisted, remembering how Snape had looked apprehensive of the pain, but that he'd not fought back or tried to apparate away.

"No," Snape agreed. "For the same reason I suspect you were able to walk into the forest and allow him to kill you. You knew your parents would be waiting for you, and you knew it was almost over."

"Yeah, but," Harry said, noticing now that Snape had also placed a thin needle and some Muggle medical stitches on the tray. "I have things now that I don't want to give up."

Snape didn't ask for clarification, and Harry was grateful, as he didn't think he could give it. How could he explain that the last time he was willing to leave his friends behind, leave Ginny behind, the Weasleys, Teddy, and all his mates from school, but that this time, he couldn't. It wasn't because his friends had changed, or that he was particularly fond of the age differences between them. No, this time he enjoyed the fact that he and Snape got along, and that Sirius - as full of energy as he was, was still there for him.

Snape picked up the glass of red potion, catching Harry's attention again. It was sparkling in the bright lantern light, and looked like a fizzy drink that Dudley liked to have in the summer.

"First, a sip of potion from the Philosopher's Stone," Snape said, his voice slipping into instructor mode. This wasn't his regular classroom voice though, it was more a private, relaxed, tutoring tone that Snape would use with a specialized student, or a child of his own.

"Then I will apply a salve to numb the area," Snape continued, pointing at the jar. "Cut out with the dagger, flush with venom if needed, and more of the red potion."

The words weren't rushed, just given as if Snape was making a simple calming draught.

"Sew up the wound with an approximation of the same scar, and apply a final healing salve. Estimated project time of thirty five minutes."  Snape pointed out the Muggle timer he had set to start on his desk.

"Not that complicated," Harry answered, unsure of what else to say.

"No," Snape agreed. "Ready, Harry?"

"I don't much have a choice," Harry said, shrugging and pretending to not care as much. "The Basilisk venom won't burn into my brain?"

"It might," Snape answered truthfully. He picked up a small eyedropper on his right, which Harry hadn't seen. "It would seem that Fawkes is fond of you, as he gave these quite willingly when I explained what they were needed for."

Harry gave a small smile, and took a deep breath.

"Okay."

Instead of finding a stool, or magically lowering the table, Snape stood and hoisted Harry up onto the table. He stayed standing close, using his thumb to swipe away the fringe on Harry's forehead and study the scar there. It was shaped quite like a lightning bolt, and Harry thought he might actually miss it if Snape completely got rid of it.

"Your spectacles, Mr Potter," Snape finally said, holding his hand out.