Coming Back Home by CleganeSnape

Harry turned around, still sitting in his chair, his heart pounding.

"Harry?" Ginny had noticed his reaction. "What happened, are you okay?"

"What the hell is he doing here?" The boy muttered, forcing himself not to turn around again. "How dare he interrupt a moment like this? After everything he said yesterday?"

"Harry." Ginny insisted quietly, taking him by the hand. "Who's here? What happened?"

The contact woke Harry from his trance. Leaning his back against the backrest, he tried to keep his composure and avoid attracting the attention of the guests who had come over to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks.

"Snape." He muttered, so that only Ginny, and now also Ron and Hermione, who had realized something was wrong, could hear him. "He's in the back, in the last row. With McGonagall."

The three of them tried to sneakily turn around to check, but Harry knew instantly that they hadn't done a very good job and that Snape had noticed their stares. That made his face redden with embarrassment; he didn't want to show him that he cared about his presence.

"I saw him." Ron whispered, frowning. "But what's he doing here?"

Harry was asking himself the exact same question.

"I don't know." He replied, as some of the guests moved away from the mound of earth and said goodbye to Andromeda with hugs, kisses and supportive pats. "But he made it clear to me yesterday that he wasn't coming."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, thinking.

"Do you think maybe Professor McGonagall forced him to come?"

Ron snorted.

"How many times have you seen someone force Snape to do something he doesn't want to do?" The boy shook his head. "No. There's something going on here. The bat must have his own reasons for coming. I don't like it..."

Saving the Potions Master from the Shrieking Shack and, more importantly, knowing that the man had always been on their side, had helped to improve Ron's opinion of him. However, the latest argument between Harry and Snape, even if he didn't know all the details, had been enough to put him back on his blacklist.

"Maybe he wants to apologize." Ginny suggested, with more hope than conviction.

Ron snorted, quelling the spark of emotion that had appeared in Harry's chest.

"Snape? Apologizing? Please, Ginny. He may be one of us, but he's still Snape."

"Who knows?" Hermione said, seeing the expression on Harry's face, kicking Ron's foot in a way that wasn't subtle at all. "More unlikely things have happened."

The boy appreciated his friends' efforts, but they were making him feel even worse. It was ridiculous that he needed to be comforted for arguing with Snape.

"What did I miss?"

George's voice startled them. All that fuss must have gotten his attention. He was leaning towards them, from his chair to Ginny's right, and although he had dried tears on his face, there was a glint of interest and curiosity in his eyes.

Harry sighed.

"Snape and McGonagall are here, in the last row."

George turned around in a way that was anything but discreet.

"But don't be so obvious, man." Ron muttered, as if he hadn't done the same thing moments before. Hearing that, Harry felt like letting out a laugh right there in the middle of the funeral. It might seem disrespectful to some, but he knew Remus and Tonks would have appreciated a little humor on a day like that. The thought, instead of cheering him up, saddened him and the smile that had begun to form froze on his face. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that had built up during the day, coupled with the uncertainty and the nerves caused by Snape's presence, as well as anger at himself for letting it even matter to him, but Harry suddenly felt a great sadness in his chest and the need to talk to Remus and Tonks, to see them and hug them, became so intense that it hurt.

"I thought he weren't coming." George said, ignoring his brother and interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Didn't you say that yesterday?"

The boy nodded but didn't add anything else. Ron, on the other hand, had a lot to say.

"That's why we have to find out what the hell he's doing here. He must have a reason. Maybe he's come to talk to Kingsley. About his trial and all that. You heard the Aurors."

"What Aurors?" George arched an eyebrow and, for a moment, looked like his usual self, before the War, before the Battle and before he'd lost Fred.

As Ron began to quietly explain to him the conversation they had overheard earlier, Harry couldn't help but think about how easy it was becoming to get used to things that no one should. Used to death, to the absence of those who were gone, to the funerals themselves. A week ago, just the thought of going to one had terrified both him and his friends. Now, they were sitting right in front of the spot where Remus and Tonks had been buried, and they were talking to each other as they would in the Great Hall, joking and trying to decipher Snape's latest actions. It was no one's fault, he knew, but it shocked him how human beings could get used to things like that.

In the midst of his thoughts, he could still feel Snape's eyes piercing the back of his neck. Annoyed, trying not to show his discomfort, he swallowed and fixed his gaze on the dark wood of the chair. That brought a memory to the surface of his mind and, looking for a distraction, seeing that Ron had already finished explaining what had happened, he said:

"Hey, George, sorry to ask..."

The boy turned around giving him his attention and Harry continued, before he could rethink whether talking about it was a good idea.

"If you don't want to tell me I understand… But I saw you put a thing in the... In Fred's coffin. Before you buried it. It looked like a piece of wood."

A flash of pain crossed the boy's face.

"Oh, that." George looked away. "It didn't just look like it. It was a piece of wood."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron, Ginny and Hermione watching them, putting aside their curiosity about Snape's motives for the moment.

"It was a part of the broom he used to fly as a kid." George explained, melancholy present in his features. "As you know brooms are made from wood from different trees..."

Harry nodded, suddenly regretting asking him. He hadn't meant to fill the boy's eyes with such sadness.

"Well, there is a spell that can reverse the process, you see? It can create a seed from that piece of wood, and, in time, a tree will grow back from it. Mom taught me the incantation. And I took that piece of broom, conjured up the spell and... And I put it there." George gulped. "The idea is that, at the end, in addition to the earth and a headstone, there will also be a big tree. Fred's tree, I'll call it. And that way... he will be part of the Burrow. Forever."

Harry took a deep breath, moved, and at that moment, Snape's presence didn't matter at all.

"I think it's a great idea." He said sincerely. "I'm sure he would have liked it."

"Actually, I think he would have teased me about it." George replied, with a sad little smile. "Too sappy and all that... But I know deep down he'd appreciate it."

Harry nodded, with a lump in his throat. Then he realized that while he and his friends had been talking, most of the seats had emptied. A part of him thought with envy that, in that moment, many of the guests were returning to their respective homes. Where death had not struck hard. Where there wasn't an empty bed, or an extra place left at the table. Where there wasn't a tree instead of a daughter, a brother or a friend. A little voice inside reminded him that Fred, Remus and Tonks hadn't been the only ones who had passed away. Not only during the Battle of Hogwarts, but also during the rest of the War. That made him feel guilty and petty all of a sudden. Most of the people who had been there today had probably lost a loved one as well.

Deep in thought, he was vaguely aware of Andromeda rising from her seat, with Teddy in her arms. The woman turned in the direction of the few remaining guests, her figure silhouetted against the orange light of the sky, where the Sun had begun to disappear.

"Thank you all for coming." She said. "I really appreciate it. And I know that, if Remus and my Dora were here, they would too." She bowed her head, causing a cascade of light hair to hide her face for a few seconds. Then she straightened up and added, "I know many of you have responsibilities to attend to. But, if you wouldn't mind staying a few more minutes, I'd like to offer you a drink. It is tradition in my family to make a toast for those who are gone."

None of those present moved and Andromeda smiled slightly. After a day like that, it was clear that many needed that drink.

"Good." She continued. "If you would be so kind as to accompany me towards the house... I'm going to put Teddy in his crib, and I'll be right back."

Andromeda disappeared through the doorway, taking the baby with her, as the others started getting closer to the house. Only a few seconds had passed, when a noise of surprise, accompanied by a grunt of indignation, sounded in the middle of the garden.

"Has he no shame at all?"

The sound came from a group of people standing next to the house, dressed in the elegant Auror robes. Harry watched them closely and recognized the one who had been talking to the man with the prosthetic leg. He had an ordinary face, with dark hair and eyes, and was of slim build and average height. There was nothing about him that attracted attention, except his voice which, Harry had decided, was irritating like few others.

"He has some nerve, coming all this way." The man continued, looking at a point in the garden. Harry wanted to turn, but to do so would have indicated that he was listening to their conversation, so he remained where he was, surrounded by the Weasleys and Hermione. "We should arrest him and throw him into Azkaban. How dare he show up on a day like today!"

He had raised his voice as he said that last sentence and the noise caught the attention of the rest of the guests, who turned around curiously.

"What's going on?" Molly asked in a whisper.

Harry had a faint idea.

"I think he's seen Snape."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in surprise.

"Severus is here?"

Before the boy could answer, the Auror continued his speech, raising his voice even higher. He was scowling and pointing his finger towards the garden, anger evident in his features.

"That's precisely what we need. Voldemort's right-hand man coming to gloat over his victims. It's despicable. He's mocking us and those we've lost. And no one here is doing anything..."

"No one is mocking anyone, Robards."

Kingsley's deep voice rang amidst the silence, startling Harry.

"Severus Snape is a free man. A wizard who has dedicated his life to the fight against the Dark forces." Kingsley continued. "There will be a trial to finish clearing up his situation, but, until then, he can come and go as he pleases. And that includes the funeral of two of his colleagues. as were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks."

The man called Robards didn't look too happy about being scolded in front of everyone. But Kingsley's authority, or perhaps his intimidating presence, was enough to silence any retort the Auror had in mind. Still scowling, he nodded his head and said nothing more, but his gaze was still filled with rage, and he did not turn away from where Snape stood.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the conversations resumed again, though touching on less thorny subjects. Mrs. Weasley made a comment about how adorable Teddy was and how much she would love to be a grandmother, smiling at Bill and Fleur, who shared a look of panic.

At the same time, Harry wondered if Snape had noticed what his presence had caused. He turned slightly so that he could observe the Potions Master, but, as he glanced past the last row of chairs, he realized that it was empty. For an instant, his heart raced in alarm, and his eyes darted around the garden, until, finally, he found the two figures he was looking for.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the mound of earth where Remus and Tonks had been buried, blowing her nose with a white handkerchief. Behind her, sitting in one of the nearest chairs, was Snape. From that distance it was difficult to read his face, but he looked as impenetrable as ever. That caused a flash of anger in Harry. He hadn't expected him to cry in front of everyone, but was it so hard to show a minimum of sadness at the funeral of two people he had known for so many years? He would have wanted to go up to him and shake him to get a reaction from the man, but instead he just stared from afar as anger gave way to grief. He didn't understand the Potions Master. At some point in the last few weeks, he thought he had, but their fight the day before had changed his mind. He had some theories, some ideas as to why he had done one thing or the other, why he had reacted that way. But with Snape nothing was ever clear. Harry sighed and that desperate need to talk to Remus returned with a vengeance. The werewolf had always given him good advice and was one of the few people who could help him understand the Potions Master's behavior. But Remus lay under the ground, a few meters from his old enemy, and would never be able to help him decipher that enigma that was Severus Snape.

"I'm here." Andromeda Tonks' voice pulled Harry from his thoughts.

Turning around, he saw the woman in front of the table, placing a bottle of orange liquid on it. Around her, dozens of crystal glasses floated midair.

"Who wants to go first? Come on, there's fire whiskey for everyone..."

Slowly, the guests formed a queue in front of her, and as the line moved forward, the glasses where filled and so were their hands. Stepping aside to let Ginny get her own cup, Harry was surprised to see that Molly hadn't intervened or complained about it. He supposed that, on such an occasion, being underage didn't matter.

The boy stood next to Ron, Ginny and the rest of his friends, forming, along with the other guests, a semicircle around the table. Suddenly, a noise coming from behind caught his attention and Minerva McGonagall walked past him. The professor greeted Andromeda and, after a brief exchange of words, bent down to pick up her own glass as well. Meanwhile, Harry was aware that only one person was missing, and he could feel his presence behind him. The Aurors' stares, some curious and some filled with anger, told him the exact spot where Snape was. Harry forced himself not to react and fixed his eyes on the glass he held in his hands, on the swirling orange liquid that reflected the last rays of sunlight.

Finally, Snape took a step forward and then crossed the distance separating him from Andromeda.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said, once he was in front of her, and Harry thought he heard a spark of sadness in his deep voice.

"Thank you." The woman replied. Then she placed one last glass between the Potions Master's long fingers.

Snape thank her with a brief nod, and broke away to stand beside Professor McGonagall, completing the semicircle.

After checking that everyone was ready, looking at her and with a glass on their hands, Andromeda raised her own cup, up towards the increasingly darkening sky.

"To Tonks." She said. "The best daughter a mother could ask for. The sweetest, kindest, most generous person I've ever known. And to her husband, Remus, who was brave and wise and good, and who loved her more than anything in the world. So much so that he fought against fear, shame, and prejudice, to be with her. They died to make this world a better place. For their beloved son and for all of us.

May they find happiness together wherever they are. And may we remember them. The love we feel for them and they for us, as well as all the moments and memories we shared during so many years. May we carry them always in our hearts and live a life they would have been proud of."

The others raised their glasses and Harry joined them, his heart in his throat.

"To Remus and Tonks." Andromeda said solemnly.

"To Remus and Tonks." They all repeated. Then they lowered their glasses and took a drink from them.

Harry felt the liquor flow inside him, it was strong, harsh and hot, but it also helped undo the lump in his throat. Then, while he was taking his second sip, something moved to his left. Snape had lowered his glass and was turning to look at him directly, his dark eyes gleaming. The boy held his gaze for a split second, but then immediately turned away, as if he had been burned. Hermione noticed his reaction and moved towards him, concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She whispered.

"Yeah...it's just... Snape's right there and he's making me nervous."

Hermione turned slightly, assessing the situation, and then nodded. She walked a few steps to where all the Aurors were standing and smiled at them sweetly as they turned to face her. The she said loudly:

"You were Tonks' colleagues, right?"

One of them, a tall woman with brown hair that reached her chin, nodded, smiling back at her.

"Yes, we were."

"Are there any stories you can tell us about her? I'm sure someone like Tonks lived plenty of adventures and interesting moments."

The woman's smile widened, and although there was some sadness in her eyes, they sparkled from the memories.

"Oh, I have a thousand stories to tell you." She said. "Some are not appropriate for a situation like this... But I can think of a few that will make you laugh until your bellies hurt."

Soon, the Auror was surrounded by the remaining guests, eager not to miss a single word, and Harry shared a grateful look with Hermione. It was easier and more pleasant to listen to Tonks' adventures than to have to feel Snape's dark eyes on him.

The Auror hadn't lied, Tonks had experienced some truly curious and amusing moments throughout her career at the Ministry. In addition to the usual perks of the job, her clumsiness had not made things easy for her. From accidentally dropping her wand in front of a potential dark wizard during her first months as an auror, to stumbling into a puddle of troll snot and having to Apparate in her supervisor's office to report that the creature had escaped, dripping the disgusting sticky liquid onto the man's carpet.

Minutes passed, as the sun left the sky and the moon and stars came out, changing the colors of the garden and refreshing the night air. And, with each new story, the glasses were refilled again and again and both laughter and tears appeared on the guests' faces.

After a few minutes, or hours, Harry wasn't sure, some of them began to say their goodbyes, hugging Andromeda and waving to the others, before Apparating with a resounding crack. Gradually, one by one, the garden emptied until only Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione, as well as McGonagall and Snape, were left.

Then, Andromeda made them sit at the table and, to Harry's misfortune, it was not so easy anymore to ignore the Potions Master, although the boy tried, stubbornly avoiding looking him in the face. At that point, the alcohol had taken its toll, and Arthur and Bill were talking in an overly elevated tone, with wide smiles on their faces, explaining the umpteenth anecdote about Remus and Tonks. Beside them, Professor McGonagall was raising her glass, her cheeks redder than usual and seemingly oblivious to the sour expression on Snape's face. The former Death Eater had not participated in the conversations and had not reacted to any of the stories. He had merely nodded and raised his glass, when necessary, but nothing more. And it was getting on Harry's nerves. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and, picking up his glass with his right hand, he rose from his chair.

"Sorry." He said. "But I think I've had too much to drink. I'm going to get some fresh air."

Ron started to say something about how they were already outside and there was fresh air there, but Ginny shushed him with a pinch on the arm, and Andromeda smiled kindly at him, ignoring the full glass on his hand.

"Of course." She said. "It should be fresher on the other side of the house, facing the field. During the night there's a very nice breeze over there."

Harry nodded, gratefully, and started to walk away from the table.

"Let us know if you need anything or want company." Hermione told him.

"I will. Thanks."

Harry turned and kept walking, feeling a little more clumsy than usual. After a few minutes, he made it to one of the wooden benches and sat down on it. Leaning his head against the backrest, the boy took a deep breath, observing the dark sky and the stars shining in it. In front of him, the moonlight bathed the hills in the distance in silvery colors, as well as the wide meadow that stretched from them to the edge of the terrace. A breeze gently swayed the grass and Harry breathed in deeply, feeling the wind on his face and the coolness on his skin, causing the smell of earth, flowers and vegetation to fill his lungs, calming his agitated heart.

After a while, he felt footsteps approaching and, without having to turn around, he immediately knew who it was. Snape walked the few meters that separated them and then sat down on the bench next to him. Harry decided to ignore him and continued to stare straight ahead, taking a sip from his glass and causing the liquor to burn inside him once more.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity he waited for Snape to make the first move.

"You were right." Said the Potions Master finally, when Harry already thought he wasn't going to utter a word. "About coming here. It helped me."

It was a small victory, but, after everything that had happened, it wasn't enough.

"Good for you." Replied the boy.

Snape stared at him, surprised by his bluntness.

"I thought you'd be happy to hear that. I came to the funeral like you wanted and-"

"You still don't understand." Harry muttered. "Did you really think that showing up like this, unannounced and in the middle of the ceremony, was going to change anything?" He shook his head in disbelief. "That by saying a couple of sentences I was going to automatically forgive you? 'You were right. It helped me.'" He repeated angrily. "Is that your idea of an apology?"

Snape's face hardened.

"No." He said firmly. "I was not apologizing. It was simply a fact."

He added nothing more, and suddenly Harry was tired of waiting for him to do so. If Snape hadn't come to apologize or explain himself, then he wasn't going to stand there, listening to him. With a growl of frustration, he got up from the bench and began to walk away from the man.

As he passed him, however, Snape grabbed his arm.

"Potter, wait."

That physical contact, unusual for the Potions Master, stopped him. Harry hesitated for a moment.

"I did not express myself well. Wait." He repeated. "Sit down again."

"Why?" The boy said, still avoiding his gaze. Instead, he pinned his eyes on the glass he was still holding in his right hand, on that orange liquid that burned less than the rage he felt towards Snape.

"Sit down." The professor insisted. "I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Harry jerked his arm free of his grip, causing the glass to shake dangerously. A few drops of liquor spilled onto the floor, but he didn't care. "Why? Have you come up with more cruel and horrible things to say to me? Forget it. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." And, to make it clear that he meant it, he looked at him straight in the face for the first time.

Snape's straight black hair and hooked nose were the same as ever, but the black eyes glittered with something Harry couldn't identify and, beneath them, deep dark circles, even more pronounced than the last time he had seen him, stood out against the white of his skin. The image made him hesitate for a second and, in that instant, Snape spoke again.

"Sit down, Potter." He said, with a pleading tone Harry had never heard in the man. "Please."

Snape's mouth had moved, but that word was so uncharacteristic of him that it took Harry a few seconds to take it in.

"Please." He repeated, and the restrained desperation in his voice blew away the anger Harry had felt seconds before.

Green eyes met the black ones, and time seemed to slow down. The boy's heart began to pound as he wondered what to do next. He was aware that he had to make a decision, but what? Was it worth sitting down again, taking the risk of listening to what Snape wanted to tell him? Or should he go on his way, walk away from the man and the damage he had caused him? Harry swallowed hard, as the professor remained seated on the bench, turned in his direction with his arm still raised towards him. He was watching him, waiting for his next gesture, but Harry knew that, if he continued walking, he would not intervene this time. Something inside him stirred and the reality that it was now or never, that whatever he chose would be final, made him dizzy. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, considering his options. If he kept walking, if he moved away from the bench, he would be closing the door on Snape and a possible reconciliation. On the other hand, if he went back, if he sat next to him, there would at least be a chance of working things out. The first option seemed the most obvious and simple. He had lived his whole life without having the professor in it and it hasn't turned out so bad. Besides, perhaps this time Snape had gone too far. The wounds caused by him were deep and still bleeding, perhaps they could never fully close. Perhaps the sadness and anger Harry felt were stronger than his ability to forgive, than the friendship, for lack of a better term, he had formed with Snape over the past few weeks. For an instant he believed it and, without stopping to think, he moved, turning his back to the man. Then he opened his eyes and took a tentative step forward, away from Snape.

The relief he expected to feel did not come, and instead, the pressure in his chest increased. He could feel the Potions Master's gaze on his back and something in him rebelled at the thought of pushing him out of his life like that. Did he really want to do it? To end things like that? To never see Snape again? To make everything they had built disappear? His heart pounded again at these questions. Before he could answer them, however, dozens of memories exploded in his mind. Snape, pale and bandaged, recovering on his gurney, unknowingly creating a safe space around him. Snape, patiently listening to him, advising him. Snape, conjuring the doe, calming him, helping him deal with his fears. Snape, with something akin to pride in his features, with a small smile on his face. Snape, coming to the funeral, even after they had argued, begging him to wait, to sit next to him, to listen.

For a few moments nothing happened. Harry remained like that, standing, not moving. He could feel the cold glass in his hands, the muffled voices of his friends coming from the front of the house, the sound of cicadas in the grass... but most of all, he could feel Snape's presence behind him. He took a deep breath and finally turned again, in the direction of the professor. His eyes met Snape's once more. The desperation in them had lessened, but it was still present.

Harry swallowed hard as he came to a decision. Once he did, he began to walk. In the direction of the bench, towards the uncertainty, towards the possibility of being hurt again. But also, towards that safe place that had kept him sane after the Battle. He kept walking, crossing the few yards that separated them, until he arrived next to Snape, who was watching him intently.

"I didn't think you were coming back."

"I'm still deciding." Harry replied, though he sat back down on the bench.

"I understand..."

Silence fell between the two of them, once again. Harry fiddled with the glass he was still holding and finally decided to let it rest on the floor. His hands were sweating, and he didn't want to risk breaking it. Besides, there was still some liquor left in it and, considering his history with Snape, it wouldn't be wise to waste it. He would probably need to take a drink before too long.

"Well?" He said, trying to hide the nervousness he was feeling with curtness. "You said you had to talk to me. I'm here. So talk."

Those words made Snape react. The man, who had been watching him silently, averted his gaze. Then he cleared his throat, trying to keep his face expressionless.

"You're right." He said finally. "I wanted to tell you that... You deserve an apology. Yesterday, I... I said some things I shouldn't have said. And... I'm sorry." From the way he uttered those words, Harry got the feeling that he had practiced them several times. The boy sighed. While he appreciated the gesture, it wasn't enough.

"I appreciate you apologizing." He told him honestly. "I am aware that in other times you would not have done so. But, still, what you did yesterday doesn't just go away."

Snape sighed.

"I know, Potter."

"That's it? You're not going to try to convince me? You're not going to give me any explanation?

Snape ran a hand over his face wearily.

"It's... It's not so simple."

That irritated Harry. Snape had had no trouble finding just the right words to hurt him, but now that he had to explain himself, suddenly things weren't oh so simple.

"This isn't easy for me, Potter." Continued the professor quietly. "It's not that I don't want to... It's just that..." He looked lost, more so than Harry had ever seen him. "There are several reasons. Some even I don't really understand. And others that... That I can't..." He didn't finish the sentence, but the boy understood. Even after everything that had happened, Snape still wasn't able to talk about certain subjects. "But there is something I want you to know. Most of the things I said... I don't really mean them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had imagined something like that. Especially the day before, when Snape had started getting defensive. At the time it had seemed like he was saying those things to manipulate him so Harry would leave him alone. But then the professor's words had become even more cruel and that certainty had disappeared.

"Then why did you say them?" He asked. He needed to know, if he was ever going to forgive Snape.

The professor averted his gaze and said nothing for a few seconds. Perhaps, if he had been more patient, Snape would have eventually answered his question, but Harry had grown tired of that game, of waiting. Feeling a rush of courage, perhaps caused by the liquor coursing through his veins, he blurted out:

"I have a theory. I think it scared you that I tried to help you. You were afraid of the possibility of opening up, of being vulnerable." He could have bitten his tongue, but he wanted to show Snape that he was no idiot. And besides, he'd had enough of not saying things straight. "So you tried to hurt me so I would leave you alone, not caring about the consequences your words might cause. Am I right, sir?"

Snape watched him for a few seconds in silence, surprised. Then he averted his gaze, confirming that he had hit the nail on the head.

"It's not that simple." He said. "But you're partly right, Potter." He lifted a glass he was holding in his hands, one Harry hadn't noticed before, and took a long swig. It contained the same fire whiskey that Snape had been drinking all afternoon. And now that he stopped to think about it, Madam Pomfrey's face appeared in some corner of his mind, with a disapproving expression. He knew the healer would not be happy to see her patient drinking alcohol when he was still recovering. But, from the way Snape drained his glass, it was clear that he needed all the courage that liquor could bring him.

As Harry waited patiently, the Potions Master bent down to place the now empty glass on the floor beside the bench. Then he leaned his back against the backrest and looked up at the sky. The moon shone in his dark eyes as the seconds ticked by.

"You're right in that... there are certain situations that I find difficult to manage." Snape said, still not looking at him, and it didn't take a genius to realize how hard it was for him to open up, even if only a little. One part of Harry, the part that was still angry, was glad to see him so uncomfortable and lost. The other, however, was aware that, despite that, Snape was still there, trying to find the right words to explain himself so that he could forgive him. That made him feel strange, sad, and comforted at the same time.

"I find them difficult to manage." Snape repeated, with his gaze fixed on that starry sky. "And, to avoid feeling that way, I... I react in ways I shouldn't. I... I lean on the worst parts of myself. And I use them to protect myself, to defend myself." After saying those words, Snape's jaw clenched tightly, causing Harry to narrow his eyes. He recognized that expression. He had seen it before.

"It's happened again, hasn't it?"

Snape looked at him at last, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"Your defenses. They've formed again. It was being too much for you, wasn't it, opening up like this?"

The expression on Snape's face was all Harry needed to confirm his suspicions.

"Potter..."

"For Merlin's sake..." Harry muttered in exasperation. "It's been four sentences. Four sentences about something anyone with half a brain them would have figured out by now. But it was still too much for you."

"Yes." Snape said angrily, though it was clearly at himself, and not Harry. "What do you want me to tell you, Potter? That's how I am. Unfortunately, I am like this. I came all this way, with the intention of apologizing, of giving you an explanation. And even then..." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm not able to do it. Even now, when I know I've made a mistake, I'm not able to silence this part of me. And..." He added, averting his gaze once again. "You don't know how many comments, each one more cruel than the last, are in my mind right now."

Harry was aware that he should be frustrated and irritated, but seeing Snape like that, with the self-loathing reflected in his features and his slumped shoulders, sparked something in the boy. Compassion pulsed strongly within him, and the need to help Snape overcome that part of himself, to be better, filled his mind, pushing aside the anger that, until mere seconds ago, he had felt towards the man.

"But it's not always like that, is it?" He said, choosing his words. "These days, in the infirmary... We've talked about a lot of things, some of them quite deep and sentimental, but it didn't seem to be so horrible for you."

The anger left the Potions Master's face, at least for a few seconds. The boy was right. He bowed his head, pondering those words.

"It's different when you're the one showing vulnerability." He said slowly. "Keeping you alive... it's something I've grown accustomed to over the years. So helping you deal with danger, even if it's mental, comes more naturally to me. Not to mention..." Snape suddenly fell silent.

"Not to mention what?" Harry asked with interest.

"Nothing." Snape muttered. "Simply that, now that I no longer loathe you, having a conversation with you is more bearable than it used to be."

Harry couldn't help himself and, despite the situation, let out a laugh.

"You can say you like talking to me, you know? Nothing's going to happen to you, sir."

Snape's face showed not a hint of humor.

"Potter. You still don't get it. You think I can change. But I can't."

"Of course you can." Harry replied, stubbornly.

"It's not that simple." Snape retorted. "I was never a sentimental person, Potter, even as a child."

"But-"

"And I've shut myself off from the rest of the world for almost two decades now." Snape cut him off. "I think it's too late to change."

"I disagree. It won't be easy, but you'll get there." Harry was sure of it. "You are talking to me right now, trying to explain yourself. And, even though it's hard, you are doing it. You are fighting that part of you."

"You don't understand, Potter." Snape replied with intensity in his eyes, raising his voice. "All these years keeping people away from me... You'll say it was necessary, that it was part of the plan, that I couldn't leave any rift that would jeopardize the mission. But that was not the only reason. It wasn't just about playing my role. About maintaining my alibi. The reality is that ... I liked it."

That confession surprised the boy. He sought Snape's gaze with his own to indicate that he wasn't judging him, but he dodged his eyes again, focusing on the landscape in front of them.

"I liked being alone." He murmured. "I liked the power, the responsibility. Not having to pretend to care about others, not having to be nice or make conversation with them..." The self-loathing was more present than ever in Snape's eyes. "And now... I don't know if I want to change. I don't even know if it's worth trying. These past few weeks, helping you... I always intended for this to be a one-way thing. I never considered that you would want to do the same for me. And when you offered to use the Stone yesterday and invited me to the funeral... I wasn't expecting it. And... it scared me."

Snape's voice trailed off and silence surrounded them. Harry, who had been listening intently, drinking in those words, trying to remember every detail of that glimpse into his mind that the man was offering him, took several deep breaths, calming his heartbeat.

"Yesterday… Maybe I pushed more than I should have..." Acknowledged the boy. "But it's only because I don't want you to go on like this forever, sir. I see that you can change and improve, and that you want to: the fact that you are here proves it. It's going to be hard. But you can make it. And I'll help you." He promised, very serious. "And I'm not saying that because I consider you my 'charity project'." He added, reminding Snape of the words he had used the day before.

The Potions Master shook his head.

"I'm not as sure as you are, Potter. And this thing you've said reminds me... We're getting off topic. My ability to 'improve', as you put it, is irrelevant right now. But there are other reasons why I reacted as I did that we need to discuss. I'm not done explaining myself." He said to the boy's surprise. "You see... My reaction yesterday... It wasn't just because of... Of this..." He made a vague gesture, pointing to himself, but added nothing more.

Silence fell over the garden and Harry looked at Snape expectantly, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"Sir?"

The man took a deep breath and opened his mouth. When no sound came out of it, he closed it again and let out a frustrated growl.

"For Merlin's sake." He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

It only took one look for Harry to understand that Snape wasn't going to be able to keep talking. It had to be the first time the Potions Master had tried to open up like this, and with each new confession and show of vulnerability, the boy knew it would only be harder for him to continue. Thinking about what to do, how to make things easier for Snape, Harry looked around. He watched the swaying grass, the meadow bathed in moonlight, tinged with silver... And suddenly, an idea came to his mind.

"Sir." He said softly. "Remember when I had to explain to you what happened at Hagrid's hut? The reason why Fred's funeral scared me so much?"

Snape lifted his head, his dark eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Yes, I remember."

Harry swallowed.

"It was very difficult for me, but you helped me. You were patient. And you told me that words were just that, that they couldn't hurt me if I didn't let them."

Snape continued to watch him without saying anything.

"And then," Harry continued, "when even that wasn't enough... You managed to calm me down with your Patronus." He pulled his wand from the pocket of his black robes and looked at Snape questioningly.

"May I?"

The Potions Master said nothing, inscrutable, with that mask of impassivity that characterized him, and his eyes remained on the boy's face as he decided what to do. The seconds passed and Harry began to get nervous. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it anymore, Snape took a deep breath. Then he put a hand to the bridge of his nose, massaging it several times. Finally, to Harry's surprise and relief, he nodded.

Heart pounding, still unable to believe that Snape had agreed, the boy raised his wand. Then he closed his eyes, trying to recapture a happy memory. He hadn't conjured a Patronus again since the Battle and, for an instant, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to. But Snape was there, talking to him, explaining himself. And, surprisingly, he trusted him enough to believe that the presence of his stag could calm him. Harry felt the affection for the man, the connection between the two of them pulsing inside him. Despite everything that had happened, those feelings made the corners of his lips curl up and a small smile spread across his face. Concentrating on those emotions, Harry waved his wand and said loudly and clearly:

"Expecto Patronum."