Draco strutted into the stables where Potter was doing his morning chores.

“You’re going riding,” Draco declared.

“What?” Potter said, glancing up.

“We are done with you moping around, Potter. You need to get back to living. We are staging an intervention.”

Potter looked at Draco as if the man had lost his mind.

“Weasley wanted to take you into town, but I declared that riding Penny here should be the first step. Closer to home and all that.”

Potter shook his head and went back to filling Penny’s water bucket.

Draco began taking the tack off the wall where it had hung for the last three years.

“Malfoy, stop,” Potter said.

“Nope. Not an option. You are going to get on that damn horse if I have to Imperio you onto her.” Draco stood, hands on hips. “And don’t think I won’t do it.”

Harry looked away, blinked, hard.

“Enough is enough,” Draco said, handing the saddle blanket to Harry. “If you don’t remember how to do it, I do. I grew up in the stables.”

“I remember,” Potter whispered.

“Well, get to it then.”

“Listen, Draco, I appreciate what you are trying to do here…”

“Potter,” Draco said, pointing his wand at Harry’s chest. “You know I know how to use the Unforgivables. As you may recall, Imperio was one of my specialties.”

Potter ground his teeth, ready to refuse.

“One lap around the grounds, and you’ll be free of me. Just. One. Lap.”

Potter scowled.

“You know I can be as stubborn as you,” Draco said. “If you’d prefer, I can summon the gang. Ron and Hermione were all for coming down here as well, but I thought I’d spare you the indignity. I’m not above summoning them though,” Draco said, studying his fingernails majestically.

“One lap,” Harry said flatly.

“One lap, Potter, that’s all I ask. Then you’ll be rid of me.”

Potter shook his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Then you’ll leave me alone?”

“Malfoy’s honor.”

“That’s not saying much,” Harry challenged.

“It is when it’s coming from me,” Draco said pompously.

Harry sighed. He brought Penny out of her stall and secured her. Then he took the saddle blanket from Draco and, speaking softly to the mare, he laid it over her back.

“Alright, Professor?” Weasley said.

Severus grumbled. “Of all the humiliating, downright idiotic things I’ve ever agreed to.”

“You can thank me later,” Ron said, as he pulled black leather riding chaps and boots over Snape‘s bruised, frail body.

Severus slid his hands over the hard plastic casing that ran the length of his torso and prevented him from bending. “This thing is medieval torture,” he complained.

“It will keep your spine aligned so you don’t aggravate it while you ride,” Hannah replied. “And you know I shouldn’t be letting you ride at all, but if this is the only way you’ll let Harry see you…“ Hannah ground her teeth. “No more than one hour in that saddle, you hear me, Professor? And absolutely nothing beyond a slow walk. No trotting and definitely no cantering! We will not even discuss the g-word.”

Severus nodded, his jaw clenched. He raised his arms as Weasley pulled a black shirt over his head, followed by a black riding vest. “I fail to see the necessity of all of this. If only I was allowed to heal first…”

“Which could take months,” Ron interjected.

Severus harrumphed.

“I must say, Professor,” Ron said, looking him up and down, “you look spiffing.”

Severus raised a disdainful brow. “Utterly impertinent…” he muttered.

“I have your dose of strengthening solution here, sir,” Hannah said, handing over a vial containing a viscous green potion.

Snape drank it and handed back the vial.

“Ready then, sir?” Hannah inquired.

Severus gave a curt nod.

“Just close your eyes and relax. Don’t fight me. I know that’ll be hard for you, but I promise that you are in good hands.”

Severus nodded again, his lips pursed. He felt his body being levitated into the air over his stallion--who had been beyond himself with glee to see his master--and settled onto the magically enhanced saddle on his mount’s back.

Hannah made a few adjustments to Snape‘s seat, making sure the man had his weight distributed properly and was sitting straight and tall. “How does that feel?” Hannah asked.

Normally Severus didn’t even think about getting into his saddle. It was well-worn leather, soft, and perfectly molded to the shape of his body. His uninjured body, that is. Now, he could only feel the barest tingling sensation in his bum, and his legs were completely useless. He couldn’t even wiggle into position. He had to trust Ms. Abbott’s judgment. Luckily for him, she’d turned out to be an experienced horsewoman, so she knew the ropes. “It is fine,” he said.

Nodding, Hannah cast the final enchantments to spell him into his seat. “I’ve added cushioning, dampening, and shock-absorbing charms. I’ve also added invisible sides to the seat so that you can feel it around your torso and not have the sensation, or worry, of toppling over mid-stride.”

“Thank you,” Severus said.

“Lastly, whether you like it or not, Professor,” Hannah said, picking up one of Snape’s booted feet and fitting it into a stirrup, “I’ve charmed your horse to act like a child’s pony.” When Snape’s face darkened, she held up her hand. “You are in no fit state to control that hellion of a stallion and you know it,” she said, sidling around to the other side of the horse, and inserting Snape’s other foot into the other stirrup. “He will look just as regal, and you just as dignified on his back, and Harry’s first impression of you will be hale and hearty.”

Severus sighed. The indignity of it all was infuriating.

Weasley, who hadn’t been around horses, stood back and watched. “Good luck, sir,” he said.

Severus grunted. “Anything else?”

Hannah placed the reins in his hands. “One hour,” she repeated. “Walking only.”

Nodding, Severus held his head high. “I am ready.”

Hannah placed her hand on his briefly. In a low voice, she whispered, “It will be fine, Professor. You’ll see.”

Severus looked away, not wanting her to see the fear in his eyes. Not fear of being on horseback, fear of seeing Harry after all these years. Fear of disappointing him. Fear of not being able to be his anchor in the storm as he had been all those years. Fear of no longer being good enough, able enough, for the man he’d come to adore.

Hannah lifted Snape’s booted foot and kicked the horse, slapping it on the rump as it went.

Draco and Harry worked in silence as they saddled Penny.

“There you go,” Draco said. “She’s all saddled up and ready to go.”

Harry hesitated.

“One lap,” Draco encouraged. “You fought Lord Voldemort, Potter, you can ride a lap on a horse.

Resigned, face closed off, Harry mounted the mare. She snorted loudly and tossed her head. “Easy girl,” Harry soothed, rubbing her neck.

He gave one last, betrayed look at Malfoy, and then kicked the mare into a trot, heading for the property line to the west.

Snape’s stallion walked sedately to the agreed-upon meeting point at the crest of a small rise. It was ridiculous. His stallion had never walked so obediently or so slowly. One more indignity to add to the pile, Severus thought. All he had to do was guide him to the peak of the small hill and wait for Harry to see him, to come to him. One small step, Draco had reminded him, repeatedly, earlier that day. Severus wondered what sort of luck Draco was having getting Harry on his horse. If Harry hadn’t ridden since Severus had been kidnapped, he imagined it wouldn’t be an easy task.

He breathed in the crisp clean air, pines, and heather. The sight of fresh green grass blowing gracefully in the breeze was a welcome assault on his senses. All those endless days and nights in that dark cell seemed to drift away, locked tightly in the recesses of his mind, likely to resurface only in dreams. He was free now. Terrified, but free. How many times had he wished for another chance with Harry? Just one more chance. It was a chance he thought he’d never have, and now here he was. Yet he felt more like a coward now than ever before.

He knew, from the brace Hannah had fit him with, that his posture was upright, his bearing perfect. If he tilted his head up a bit, he could look down his long nose at Harry, giving the young wizard the impression that nothing had changed, even though everything had. How long could he keep up the charade? It wasn’t as if he could hold onto the illusion forever. And yet, he knew that if Harry found him broken, in body and in spirit, the wizard would never forgive himself for abandoning Snape to his fate, regardless of the fact that Harry had had no part in it. No, Severus thought, shaking his head, this was far better. Let Harry find him appearing strong and whole, let that be his first impression. Let the rest come later. Much later if he could help it, though he highly doubted it.

He pulled gently on the reins, stopping his steed on the edge of the rise, looking out over the fields, waiting for Harry to appear, thinking about all the time they’d lost, then pushing that thought away. There was only now, and the future, and the future stretched before them like the rolling hills gracing his vision.

Harry nudged Penny up to a canter. It had been so long since he’d ridden her, and it felt a bit exhilarating. That thought racked him with guilt. He had no right to feel free and unimpeded when Sev was, Sev was… Harry swallowed against the lump in this throat. Wherever Sev was, imprisoned or dead, he wasn’t free. Not like this. Harry had half a mind to turn back around but, as he looked over his shoulder, he saw Draco standing in the distance, arms crossed, and he knew the stubborn Slytherin would never let him get away with it.

And so he rode on, not bothering with a gallop. There was no need. He wasn’t in a hurry. He slowed Penny to a trot. He’d have never even had the courage to gallop if it wasn’t for Severus. Sev taught him how to ride, and how not to ride. In the beginning, he was constantly criticizing Harry for his bad habits. But as time went on, the criticisms fell away and, in their place, a new self-confidence grew, one he’d only ever felt before on the back of a broom.

He’d lost that confidence the day Sev had been taken from him. He doubted he’d ever get it back; he wasn’t sure he even wanted it. That confidence came with a price, the invincibility of youth and the blind ignorance of loss. He’d gone through the cycle many times over the war, but losing Sev was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t invest himself in an unsure outcome, only to forfeit it in the end.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sweet scent of hay and listened to the birds chirp in the distant trees. Truth be told, he’d missed riding. But it felt like a betrayal to Sev, and so he’d stopped. He’d ride Malfoy’s lap today, but he doubted he’d get on again. It just wasn’t the same without the man who’d introduced him to horses in the first place.

He rode over the first rise to see a black shape in the distance. Another rider, it appeared. Had the neighboring property finally sold? If so, he hadn’t met the new tenants. Or maybe it was just someone from the village who rode here on occasion--he wouldn’t know, he hadn’t been out this far in three years. Squinting his eyes, it seemed that the rider was not moving, as if he remained there, waiting for him. That was a bit odd, Harry thought. If the man wanted to meet him, why not ride up to him? Perhaps the rider wasn’t sure of his welcome on Potter’s property.

Shrugging, and in no particular hurry, Harry kept Penny at a trot. As he watched the mounted rider, for there was nothing else to look at other than fields and trees, a sick feeling swooped into his stomach. Black horse, black rider. The straight seat. The regal bearing. Harry shut his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t need this now. Didn’t need some desert mirage to trick his mind into seeing things that weren’t there. Glancing up, a tiny bit closer now, he saw that the horse and rider were still there, unmoving. Was he seeing things?

The horse in the distance dropped its head toward the grass before raising it again, and Harry knew it was real. Not a dream. Not a vision. But that horse, and that man. All black. Both of them. Harry was too far away to make out any details. He felt his heart was breaking. This wasn’t Sev, couldn’t be Sev, yet every instinct in him yearned for it be so. He wanted to take Penny to a gallop, force her to close the distance between himself and this mirage, force the image to become Sev, the horse to become Sev’s black stallion. He shook himself. What would the other rider, who seemed to wait for him, think of a half-crazed madman on a bay mare charging at him at top speed?

The tears came unbidden, blurring the image before him. He put his fist in his mouth, biting down on the sobs that broke free. “Sev,” he cried out, his plea lost in the air. “I know it’s not you, can’t be you, but please… please… I need it to be you.”

The closer he got, the more he began to shake. He knew that lithe body, the set of the shoulders, the ramrod straight back. He knew the tangle of black hair--much longer now, and the set of that square clean-shaven jaw.

He gasped and kicked his horse into a canter. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be…

He leaned forward on Penny, kicking her into a gallop, tears streaming down his face as he was sure that, at any moment, this mirage would transform itself into someone else, some random person on a horse who was lost, perhaps looking for directions. And then Harry would have to rein Penny in, pull her to a stop, and somehow explain the state he was in. But he couldn’t block out the insanely impossible hope that maybe, just maybe, it really was Sev, his Sev.

Severus watched Harry approach, his heart beating as fast and as hard as it ached. He couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the younger man, for he, Severus, was not the man who had left that night, only to return a broken shell of himself. If nothing else, Harry would notice that, and not all the magic and medicine in the world could hide him from that humiliation. Still, hope was a strange bedfellow and one not easily discarded.

Harry had taken his mare up to a gallop now, his eyes wide, his hands clenched. The wind whipped his wild hair and Severus knew Harry thought he was seeing things. Severus wanted to shout out to Harry, but what would he say? “Long time, no see?” Any words that crossed his mind seemed childish and insufficient. How does one say, “You were the one that kept me alive, every day, every night. You were why I chose to keep breathing. You were the only light in the darkness.”

Finally, Harry was in front of him, panting along with his mare. He looked wretched, face contorted and covered in tears, eyes wild. “Sev?” he whispered.

Severus’s voice caught in his throat, all thoughts of haughty dignity and momentous first impressions discarded. “Harry,” he rasped, his throat aching.

Harry walked his horse to stand beside Severus’s stallion so that Severus and Harry were facing each other, their legs nearly touching. Harry’s lip was trembling and he looked up at Severus with such hope, and such fear, that Severus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

“You’re crying,” Harry said, reaching a hand up to brush a tear off Severus’s cheek.

“Of course I am, you fool,” Severus bit out, catching Harry’s hand in his. “I missed you,” he whispered. I thought I’d never see you again, he thought but left unspoken.

“But how? Why? Here?” Harry said, stumbling over his words. His eyes were still wide, disbelieving. His hand shook in Severus’s grasp.

“I arrived two days ago,” Severus murmured.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“I couldn’t,” Severus choked out, looking away. “I wasn’t well.” A twinge of guilt echoed through him.

“But you are now?” Harry asked.

Severus bowed his head. He wouldn’t lie to Harry. “I will be,” he choked out.

Harry shook his head, glancing around. His face fell into his free hand. “I so want this to be real,” he moaned. A sob escaped him, and Severus reached out with his other hand, lifting Harry’s chin.

“Harry, I…” Severus swallowed convulsively. “I’m so sorry. So sorry they got me away. So sorry I couldn’t fight them off.” Dropping his gaze, he whispered, “So sorry I left you.”

“You never left me, Sev,” Harry said fiercely, his eyes blazing as he leaned towards him. “You were always with me, every day, every moment.”

“I know,” Severus said. “I felt you too.”

Harry leaned toward him and placed a feather-light kiss against Severus’s newly scarred cheek.

Severus let out a howl of pain. He dragged Harry toward him, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him onto his horse in front of him. Every muscle rebelled, and his agonizing back protested, but he didn’t care. Harry was simultaneously laughing and crying as he placed gentle kisses on Severus’s nose, eyes, brow, and cheeks, as if assuring himself that Severus was real, before pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace.

When Harry finally drew back, his eyes were still glazed. “I didn’t think I’d ever…I thought I’d…lost you…forever.”

Severus shut his eyes against the haunting pain in Harry’s gaze and voice. “I know,” he breathed, squeezing Harry tighter. Then he buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck and wept. He’d hadn’t allowed himself the luxury before, except in his very darkest moments of captivity, but this wasn’t weakness, this was a cleansing, a letting go of the past, and opening to the future.

He felt Harry’s broken sobs in equal measure, his own name echoed in a long procession of pain and relief, curses and endearments.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Harry begged.

“Never,” Severus assured, holding him tightly. “Never again.”

*~* Fin *~*