Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. The dull, constant ache in his scar that had accompanied him as long as he could remember was gone, and he felt lighter- happier than he had been since Sirius's death. What was more, he no longer felt the need to hate himself for being happy without Sirius there to share it with him. Harry opened his eyes lazily, and memories came rushing back. And he realized that he was slumped over an unconscious Severus Snape.

Harry hurriedly sat back in his heels, to take stock of the situation. Snape, aside from having his robes scorched into cinders by the magic flames (Harry blushed and, picking up his miraculously unharmed wand, transfigured the neglected pillowcase into a rough cloak, glad for once that Hermione had talked him into revising for Transfiguration midterms early) had been completely healed, and even looked better than Harry has ever seen him. He looked almost handsome, now that his slender and vampiricly pale body has filled out a little and lost that sallow, unhealthy look, and his long black hair was soft and no longer greasy. Of course, his nose was still as large as ever, but then, without it he wouldn't be recognizable as Snape.

Harry glanced at the look of peace on his sleeping face and decided to wait a few more minutes before waking him- it was still very early in the morning, so early that the stars were still up. And if Harry had learned anything at all from his years at Hogwarts, letting a sleeping cerberus lie was near the top of the list.

The clearing had been burnt badly during the involuntary ritual, such that the moist leaves were still smoking, and a smell of char and Ancient Magic filled the air. A single, glossy, pale-gold feather lay near where he sat, one of his, while further on, Snape's Death Eater mask lay in a partially melted lump. Most of the potion bottles had cracked from the excessive heat, including the unopened anticrucitus- Harry winced at the waste. There was little else to give testimony of the ordeal the previous night, however, as neither Snape nor Harry had had much with them, although Harry found Snape's broken wand in a patch of charbroiled mushrooms, as well as another, which looked to be Bellatrix's. Hers was a little warped and blackened by the fire; Harry could only assume that the phœnix magic hadn't liked the dark residue on it.

It was at this point that Harry reluctantly made the decision to wake Snape up- the first watery yellow sunbeams were piercing the Forest canopy, and he dared not stay out too much longer. He doubted that his dorm mates could be prevailed upon to keep his midnight excursion secret. He knelt next to Snape and was about to shake him when he accidentally nudged the man with his knee and Snape shuddered and exploded awake, long-lashed dark eyes wide and confused, one slender hand fumbling for his wand.

"Shh, sir, it's ok," Harry said gently, worried at the continued confusion in Snape's eyes. Visions of Lockhart fluttered through his brain- what if the phœnix magic had wiped his mind during the healing process? Or what if it could only heal the body, and Snape's psyche had been permanently damaged by Voldemort or his followers? Then Snape drew a sharp breath.

"Potter?" He still looked confused, but there was a note of anger in his voice, and what might have been awe.

"Umm, yeah? How are you feeling, sir?" Best to be polite. Snape would probably give him a royal chewing-out for being a stupid Gryffindor and being out after curfew in the Forbidden Forest, but he didn't want to make it any worse for himself than it already would be.

"You were a phœnix." It was not a question.

"Yes sir..."

"And you used the rite of Flamma Aeterna."

"Is that what it's called?"

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. "Magical illegal animagus form aside, do you have any idea of what you did?"

Harry shrugged. "Umm, I just didn't want you to die."

Snape shook his head. "You stupid, idiotic, self-sacrificing Gryffindor. You could have gotten yourself killed! If you had had any intent except to heal me for healing's sake, or if the Ancient Magic had pronounced me too corrupted to heal..." he broke off. "I...admit...that I am grateful," it sounded rather painful to admit, "but I'd better not catch you trying anything like that again."

Harry was staring at Snape, a little pop-eyed. While the man sounded angry, there was none of the malice with which he normally addressed Harry, albeit he was still a little acerbic.

"Also, Potter,"

Harry snapped out of his daze. Here it comes, he thought. "Yes professor?"

"You might want to think about performing a glamour."

"Huh?"

"Eloquent as always, Potter. What I mean to say is that not only does your scar appear to have finally healed," Harry yelped and reached up to touch it, "but you have grown considerably, and your hair is too long to be a rat's nest. I suspect it has something to do with the ritual."

Harry blinked a few times in rapid succession. "I...uh...don't know any glamours," he said finally, still reeling from what Snape had just said.

Snape sighed again. "Merlin save us." He frowned on seeing his own snapped wand, then picked up the scorched one and cast an experimental 'lumos'. It glowed obediently. Then, before Harry realized what he was doing, Snape flicked the wand at him and intoned "Prior forma muta."

Harry squeaked as he felt a tingle in his forehead, followed by a crawling sensation all over his skin. Snape, however, seemed satisfied. "You look enough like you did before to pass, although I am not a glamour expert," he said thoughtfully.

Harry was too startled by this new, helpful Snape to do anything more than stammer a thank you.

Snape smirked. "I did not, however, say that the glamour was permanent," he said after a moment. "I suggest researching another which cannot be broken by a strong 'finite incantem'."

"St-still, thank you," Harry was still trying to come to terms with the new developments.

Snape had, by this time, gotten to his feet, the transfigured cloak still wrapped tightly around himself, as his own robes were too burned even for a reparo'. Now he pocketed the broken wand, and the borrowed one, and then led Harry back to the castle.

They had just walked in the Entrance Hall, and were about to separate, when Snape stopped. "Harry," he began, and the boy, totally gobsmacked, wondered briefly if he had been completely healed, "I...do owe you thanks. And an apology for the way I have treated you for so long, although I do suspect I may have been acting under a mild compulsion."

"A compulsion?" Harry asked after a moment.

"The Dark Mark had a number of nasty spells on it, as I recall, among them an aggression enhancement ward. We were under vows of silence not to speak of its composition, although since I'm telling you, the vows must have died with the Mark. Still, I acted...unforgivibly."

"I...it's ok sir," said Harry. It wasn't, really, but Harry was willing to forgive, if not forget. And if the professor had actually had a compulsion on him, it wouldn't really be his fault, and he shouldn't be blamed.

A rare smile flickered across Snape's lips, momentarily flashing magically straightened and whitened teeth, another side effect of the cleansing. "It astonishes me how much you are like your mother," he said quietly. "I don't know anyone else who would be willing to save someone they hated so much." He shook his head. "However, if you tell anyone I said that, I will personally use you for potion ingredients."

"Understood, sir." Harry said after a moment, a surprising ember of warmth bubbling up inside him. No one has ever told him what his mother was like, even Sirius, except to say that Harry had her eyes, or to expound upon her Charms ability.

"Oh, and Potter?" Snape said, black eyes sparkling with a little-seen hint of mischief, as they parted ways, Snape to his dungeons and Harry to the Gryffindor Tower. "Ten points from Gryffindor for being out in the Forbidden Forest after curfew."

Harry was still spluttering all the way to the Fat Lady, and so didn't hear Snape's murmured addition: "...and a hundred points to Gryffindor for quick thinking and selflessness."

Now, despite the few hours Harry had slept after the cleansing ritual, Harry was exhausted. He barely managed to stumble to the entrance to the Common Room, and when he got there, he realized he had forgotten the password. The Fat Lady grumbled unhappily; not only was he a mess (dusted with ash and splattered with mud, a dead leaf clinging persistently to his cheek) but he'd woken her up for nothing!

Harry simply stared at her for half a minute, and then finally said "Pride of Gryffindor". She swung inward sulkily, sniffing at his midnight escapades. Why couldn't the kids just stay put after curfew?

Harry ignored her. All he wanted to do was shower and try to get some sleep before classes in the morning.

The Common Room was totally empty, this early in the morning; even the fire had died down to mere embers, faintly illuminating the gold embroidery of the Gryffindor pennants. Harry hurried through it, glad there was no one to ask awkward questions, and crept up the stairs to his form. No one was up there either; only Seamus twitched in his sleep as Harry unlatched his dragonhide trunk and pulled out a clean, fresh set of robes.

After a hot shower had loostened all the grit and washed it away, Harry lay down with a textbook, figuring he might as well study, as there wouldn't be much time for sleep. It felt like only moments later that Neville was shaking him; he'd fallen asleep on top of his textbook.

Realizing that he'd never get through the day like this, he took a pepper-up potion he'd saved from the last batch he'd done in Potions (adequate, now that Slughorn was teaching Potions) and gulped it. Then he followed his dorm mates down to the Common Room, where Ron was waiting for him with Hermione, to go to breakfast in the Great Hall.

They were assaulted almost as soon as they had left Gryffindor Tower.

"Well, well, well, Scarhead, haven't got rid of the Weasel and the Mudblood leech yet, I see."

"Good morning to you too, Malfoy," Harry responded, his good mood utterly shot.

"It's not a good morning when I have to talk to you," said Malfoy, with the air of one much amused at his own wit.

Ron was fuming. Hermione might have joined the conversation, but she was busy restraining Ron to really make a good response, so it was left to Harry. Harry was about to say something unprintable, when he imagined the look on Draco's face if he knew what Harry had been up to the previous night, and be cracked a smile instead. "Then why are you still around talking to me if I'm so offensive? And why were you here in the first place? Are you sure you're not stalking me?"

Malfoy was spluttering incoherently, while Ron laughed and Hermione giggled into her hand. Finally he said rather dumbly, "Your little mind cannot comprehend my habits."

"That's because your habits are incomprehensible," Hermione commented.

"Yeah," Harry chipped in. "At least I don't sleep with a stuffed dragon."

It was pure conjecture, based off a derogatory comment Daphne Greengrass had made in Harry's vicinity half a year ago, but apparently it struck a nerve, because Draco snarled "Sod off, Potter!" and flicking his wand, shouted "furniculus!"

Harry responded with a lightening fast "protego", pushing his friends behind him. And at that moment, a dark robed figure loomed over them. Snape. Harry was very nervous. This could either go in his favor, or it could go horribly wrong. As Draco was Snape's godson, Harry did not expect a positive outcome, at least for the Gryffindors.

So he was pleasantly surprised when Snape spoke. "Twenty points from Slytherin for hexing a classmate in the halls, Malfoy. You ought to know better- that's Gryffindor behaviour."

"Harry hexed me first!" Draco retorted.

"Give me your wand." Snape held out a slender hand.

Draco twisted the wand nervously in both hands, refusing to hand it over.

"Give it here, I'm not confiscating or snapping it, I'm simply checking it."

"Check Potter's!" Draco said petulently.

"Potter, hand me your wand."

Harry gave Snape his wand without a murmur; if Snape had meant him harm, he would have done it in the forest, where a mangled body could easily be the work of acromantula. Snape performed "priori incantem", and smirked: the wand showed a "protego", "lumos", an "acio", and a spell that they had practiced the day before in Transfiguration, among others.

"And another twenty points from Slytherin for lying to a teacher," he said with viscious pleasure. Ron's mouth was gaping as though to catch flies, and even Harry was startled.

"My father will hear about this!" threatened Malfoy.

Snape sighed. "Let him. Taking points for transgressions is not against school policy."

"He knows things that the aurors would love to-" began Malfoy suggestively.

"A hundred points from Slytherin for threatening a teacher." Severus snapped. "And for the record, it's never a good idea to blackmail a Slytherin."

And with that, Snape swept away, robes sweeping regally behind him, a genuine smile curving his lips, catching Harry's eye as he turned. And he winked.

Ron was in shock. "Harry, mate, what did you do to Snape? Is he imperiused?" He asked finally. Hermione hit him on the back of the head for saying that, but she was just as confused and shocked.

"I'll tell you later; I had an...informative conversation." Harry replied, as they entered the Great Hall. "Meet me by the Rooms of Requirement tonight, it's a long story. I promise he's not imperiused or anything."

Hermione gave him a look, but said no more, and they all plopped down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, Ron immediately filling his plate with enough food to feed the crew of a Navy submarine for a week. Harry chewed on a piece of bacon absentmindedly, distracted with thinking about his schedule: Charms first period, and then DADA.