Coming Back Home by CleganeSnape

Harry took a deep breath and turned his wrist, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time in the last two minutes. The seconds were ticking by slowly, as were the people walking in front of him along Diagon Alley, and the boy was starting to get nervous. He knew Snape was a punctual man, and so he had arrived at the agreed place with plenty of time to spare. Although, come to think of it, half an hour in advance had perhaps been too much. He didn't like being there, standing in front of the great white columns of Gringotts, where any passerby might recognize him. Luckily for him, for the moment, it hadn't happened.

The alley was less crowded than it used to be during the last days of summer, when countless children along with their parents came to buy robes, books, wands, cauldrons, and other things needed for school. And, although there were still quite a few people, they did not stop to stare in amazement at the shop windows or gather in groups to chat amicably in the middle of the street. Instead, they walked briskly, entering the few stores they needed something from and, once they had obtained what they had come for, they disappeared with a snap. It was evident that things were still not back to normal, even if the War was over. There was still apprehension among the common people, especially those who had not been at Hogwarts during the battle and had not seen the end of Voldemort. They were afraid that he had not been defeated for good, that his Death Eaters could appear at any moment and attack them, especially in a place like that which had been hit hard during the War. Harry could see the aftermath of those attacks without searching too much. The scorch marks and explosions were still there, on the ground and on the walls of the buildings. And, although most businesses had been repaired once the merchants had returned to Diagon Alley, there were still abandoned stores, where broken glass and pieces of wood were piled up. The fact that no one had yet returned to fix them gave a faint idea of what had happened to their owners.

Trying not to think about it, Harry consulted his watch again. It had been fifteen minutes since his arrival in Diagon Alley. That meant that there were only fifteen minutes more before nine o'clock in the morning, the time agreed upon with Snape. As he moved his head to look around for the Potions teacher, a lock of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Harry caught it between his fingers and tucked it behind his ear. It was long again, though not as much as it had been when he, Ron and Hermione had lived in the forest, during last year. And, although it was getting to a point that Mrs. Weasley would consider inappropriate, too much like her son Bill's, Harry liked it that way. It helped hide his scar and his face, which was perhaps one of the reasons no one had recognized him yet.

The long hair, along with the slight stubble that had begun to appear on his cheeks, had transformed his appearance. Gone was the boy who had first set foot in the magical world seven years ago. When he had noticed that change in himself, looking in the mirror of his bathroom at Grimmauld Place, a smile had spread across his face. Despite still feeling like a child in some ways, the prospect of growing up, of being able to grow old without Voldemort's shadow over him, was comforting. With a small smile, he remembered that, thankfully, Ginny had also approved of that new look. The appreciative comments the girl had made came back to his mind, along with that amused gleam in her brown eyes as she stroked his cheek, telling him he should shave soon.

Harry sighed, turning his wrist to look at the time once more, the affection for Ginny calming some of the nerves caused by the wait. Ten minutes to nine, Snape must be almost there. Thinking of the Potions Master caused a new memory to pop into his mind. The man had also had something to say about the length of his hair, as if his own wasn't even longer than Harry's.

"I don't want a single lock of it to end up inside the potion, Potter, do you understand me?" He had said suddenly one morning. "If it happens, I'll cast a balding hex on you. And only I know the counter spell, so don't tempt me."

The glint of humor in the professor's eyes was mixed with a touch of seriousness, and from that day onwards, Harry had decided not to push his luck. Whenever he brewed a potion under Snape's watchful eye, which happened several times a week now that he was tutoring him, Harry would pull his hair back to avoid contaminating it.

Since then, even Snape himself had followed his example, pinning his greasy dark hair up in a small bun. From the way he had done it, effortlessly and quickly, and from how worn-out the hair tie had been, it was clear that this was not the first time he pulled his hair up. It made sense, if one stopped to think about it, but that revelation had surprised Harry and for a second, he had almost let out a laugh. Luckily for him, he had restrained himself in time, preventing Snape from noticing his reaction. Later, lying on his bed in Grimmauld Place, thinking about what had happened that day, Harry was glad he had controlled himself. Although the man would never say it out loud, he knew Snape had self-esteem issues about his body. Maybe it had started when he was a child, being a skinny, ugly boy, forced to wear second-hand clothes much bigger than he was, or perhaps, it was his greasy hair, his yellow teeth, or his bat-like posture... But Harry had seen the way Snape dressed and moved, hiding himself from neck to toe with those black robes, and controlling every posture, with deliberate and previously studied gestures, with precise and meticulous movements, as if he wanted to be sure that everything was done in a perfect way, that he was not going to make a fool of himself. Some time ago, perhaps he would have thought that this behavior was a consequence of the professor's surly character, of his strange and sarcastic personality, but now Harry saw the signs and understood them. If Snape hadn't pulled his hair back during normal classes, preparing potions in front of the students, and had only done so once in his personal laboratory, away from the gaze of the others, it was for a reason. It might seem silly to some, but after having lived a childhood being the center of cruel comments and laughter, Harry understood. And he wasn't going to make Snape regret letting his guard down in front of him.

Deep in thought, the boy was unaware of a dark figure that had been moving closer and closer towards him, until he was only a few feet away from where he stood. Suddenly, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Harry turned around, his right hand instinctively reaching for his wand. Luckily for him, it was Snape standing there, dressed in his usual black robes, raising a hand in greeting.

"Potter."

"Sir." Harry said, dropping his wand back into his trouser pocket. "Sorry I hadn't seen you."

"Clearly. Are you sure those glasses are the right ones for you, Potter? How long has it been since you've had your eyesight checked?" He asked. "Perhaps it would be wise to go and have them looked at. We wouldn't want the savior of the magical world to trip over something and crack his head open, eh?"

"The glasses are fine, thanks for worrying." Replied Harry, by now used to his professor's comments. "I was simply distracted."

Snape looked at him for a second too long.

"Distracted? Why?"

Harry shrugged. There were several reasons, but he wasn't going to explain them right there, in the middle of the alley.

"Don't tell me you're worried about going back to Gringotts, Potter." Snape said, with one of his sardonic little smiles. "I'm sure they've completely forgotten about what happened the last time you were here. About that little robbery you and your friends pulled off."

Looks like he woke up sarcastic today, Harry thought. More than usual. Maybe the boy wasn't the only one who was nervous about leaving the safety of Hogwarts and going out into the outside world. Well, if Snape was going to hide his nervousness under a facade of sarcasm, then Harry wasn't going to show him his own agitation.

Putting a determined expression on his face, he said:

"I'm sure, too. Shall we go, then, sir?" He gestured with one hand to the large bronze doors of Gringotts and was glad to see the surprise in Snape's eyes. He had probably hoped to have a longer conversation before entering, and thus be able to delay his confrontation with the goblins inside the building. Harry would have wished the same thing minutes earlier. However, now that they were both standing there, he preferred to get it over with as soon as possible.

Telling himself that everything would be fine, Harry took a deep breath as Snape walked past him, opening the doors of the bank and crossing them with a couple of long strides. After entering, he turned to check that Harry was following and then, with his usual impenetrable face, continued towards the counters at the back of the lobby.

A few people waiting in line there, forming a queue before the goblin seated at the desk, which caused Snape to sigh impatiently. But Harry couldn't have cared less about that; he was too busy trying to calm his heartbeat down. It had begun to pound when he had crossed the doorway and right now it was echoing in his ears so loudly that he wondered how it was possible that Snape couldn't hear it. But the professor was busy, standing next to him, staring at the customers in the queue in front of him, as if that would make them finish sooner. He was moving one foot against the floor, making a faint rhythmic sound, with clear annoyance on his face. Harry heard it and tried to concentrate on the noise, focusing his attention on the tapping, as the seconds ticked by and his stomach contracted unpleasantly. Suddenly, before he could stop it, a memory flashed into his mind. An explosion of green light, followed by another, and then another, appeared behind his pupils, as anger pulsed through his veins and the bodies of the goblins piled up on the ground. No, that wasn't me, that was Voldemort. The boy reminded himself. But a part of him couldn't help but feel responsible. He tried to push the feeling away, blinking hard, turning his gaze again to Snape's shoe, which was still tapping against the floor. Against those dark tiles that, he suddenly discovered, looked newer than the other ones. It was clear that they had been changed recently and Harry knew why straight away. He was sure that, where that new pattern of shiny black and green tiles now stood, weeks ago there had been a hole caused by the claws of a dragon. The dragon he and his friends had helped free, to be more specific. Harry was remembering how hard the beast's skin felt under his fingers and how he had held on with all his might to keep from falling, until his hands and arms ached, when Snape called out to him.

"Potter, it's our turn."

The boy raised his gaze, startled, his heart in his throat. The people in front of them were gone, and Snape stood beside him, watching his face expectantly. Forcing his feet to move, Harry walked the few steps that separated him from the counter. Before he could think too much about what would happen next, the goblin appeared in front of him, looking at them with boredom in his eyes.

"Next." He said, extending a hand in his direction.

"Good morning." Snape greeted him, without a hint of warmth despite the politeness in his words. "We wanted access to Mr. Harry Potter's chamber."

The expression on the goblin's face, which had been somewhat cold until then, turned icy and Harry could see the fury appear beneath his eyes.

"Mr. Harry Potter?" He repeated, withdrawing his open hand and baring a row of pointed teeth. "Harry Potter? The boy who, a month ago, using typical wizarding trickery, infiltrated this bank? The thief who managed to gain access to a chamber that wasn't his own and steal an object that didn't belong to him? Who released a dragon owned by Gringotts, destroyed part of the underground caverns and caused the death of a dozen employees? That Harry Potter?" He had been raising his voice as he spoke, causing the other goblins and wizards to turn around with curiosity and also some fear.

Harry swallowed, scared, and took a small step back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Snape move his hand subtly, bringing it closer to the pocket containing his wand.

"Mr. Potter has been cleared of all charges against him."

"Cleared by wizards." Replied the goblin. "Not by my people."

"By the Ministry, yes. But the goblins agreed." Snape corrected. "Kingsley Shacklebolt assured me that they had met with the bank's owners. And that your... people agreed that Mr. Potter's actions, while reckless and foolish, had been key to defeating the Dark lord. A Dark Lord who, if I recall correctly, was the one who murdered those dozen workers you mentioned earlier, not this boy."

The goblin squinted, studying Snape's impassive face, his posture seemingly relaxed, his hand a few inches from his wand... Perhaps the Potions Master's words had convinced him, or perhaps he thought it wasn't worth causing a scene in the middle of the hall, but, finally, still squinting distrustfully, the goblin opened his hand again.

"Wand." He said curtly.

Harry looked at Snape in surprise at that turn of events but he quickly handed over his wand, before the goblin could change his mind. He immediately felt vulnerable without it to protect himself and took a small step back to be closer to the Potions Master. Although the goblin had closed his mouth, hiding those sharp teeth, the boy did not trust him. He had learned that lesson from Griphook. His nervousness, however, subsided considerably as he watched the goblin summon another worker and hand him a small metal key.

"My colleague will lead you to your chamber." He said, handing the wand back to Harry, who felt much better sensing the wood under his fingers. "See to it that you do not enter any chamber other than your own, Mr. Potter, or release another dragon. We goblins do not forgive twice. And you won't like the consequences." And, with that, he turned to the person waiting behind Snape. "Next."

"Come on, Potter." The Potions Master muttered, giving him a slight push forward. Harry nodded and, between the two of them, they followed the new goblin in the direction of the carriages.

The next few minutes passed in silence as they descended into the depths of Gringotts and a strange euphoria came over the boy. It was a feeling of immense relief. Of lightness. As if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders. Although Kingsley had assured him that everything was going to be fine, he hadn't been completely sure. But now he felt calm, almost content. His actions had been forgiven, as long as he didn't steal anything else, of course, and he wasn't going to have to face the goblins and their thirst for revenge. And, to top it all off, the icing on the cake had been seeing Snape defending him like that. The man had stood up to the goblin, using that ice-cold, piercing stare he used set on Harry, and had even threaten to take out his wand in the middle of the bank, surrounded by other goblins. Feeling a spark of warmth in his chest, Harry closed his eyes, and, turning his face so that Snape, who was sitting next to him, wouldn't notice, his lips formed a satisfied smile.

As they rode up and down with the carriage, Harry's mind began to wander, transporting him back to a similar journey seven years earlier. To that first time he had been to the bank. To the sense of awe and fascination he had felt, riding in that same cart, with Hagrid sitting beside him. Harry glanced sideways at Snape and, with a spark of humor, thought that two people could not be more different from each other. Hagrid, huge, clumsy, kind, cheerful and welcoming. Snape, thin, elegant, cruel, cold and sarcastic. But, if he stopped to think about it, it wasn't as simple as that. Hagrid could also be brave and tough, like when he had gone to talk to the giants on Dumbledore's orders, in the middle of the war, and so many years dealing with all those dangerous and wild creatures were not for weak or frightened people. And, for Snape's part, the professor could also show a warmth that Harry would never have thought possible, as well as his own particular kindness. The images of Hagrid in his hut, having tea with him and his friends, and Snape in his chambers, doing the same with Harry, merged in his mind, side by side, and the boy couldn't help but smile.

As he reflected on those two men who were so different but had more in common than either would have imagined, the caves grew deeper and colder. Finally, the carriage stopped in front of a door that Harry recognized immediately.

"Chamber six hundred and eighty-seven." Proclaimed the goblin.

Harry descended from the cart and then turned to help Snape do the same. The professor looked at the open hand the boy held out and smirked.

"I'm older than you, Potter, but not that old. I think I can manage on my own, thank you."

Harry blushed and nodded, withdrawing his hand quickly. That gesture had been an automatic thing, like helping Mr. Weasley down the stairs to the attic at the Burrow, or when he passed the rag to Mrs. Weasley to dry the dinner dishes. It was something he hadn't even thought about, the result of a familiarity he had accidentally achieved with Snape. Hoping the Potions Master hadn't taken too much offense, Harry watched as the goblin inserted the key into the lock, opened the chamber his parents had left him, and stepped aside to let them in.

The gold of the coins reflected the fire of the lamp, causing the light to dance across the walls. Harry stared at the piles of money and suddenly tensed at the thought of what Snape was going to say. He gave the man a sideways glance, but the comment he expected did not come. The professor merely leaned against the doorway, watching him silently, his arms folded. Grateful for it, Harry bent down to pick up a handful of coins and stuff them into the bag he had brought with him. It was a gift from Hermione, in which the girl had put the same extension charm that was active in her little beaded purse. Feeling the weight of the galleons between his fingers, Harry was happier than ever for it. It would have been exhausting to walk down the alley dragging all that money.

Seconds passed in silence as the boy, still crouched in the middle of the chamber, stuffed the piles of galleons, sickles and knuts into the bag. Once he had taken enough to cover all the expenses he would have over the next few months, Harry finally stood up.

"Take more, Potter."

Snape's voice startled him, he had almost forgotten he was there. He turned to look at him, holding the bag in his hands.

"Don't worry, sir. I think I have enough."

Snape sighed, turning away from the door and stepping into the chamber. Coins crunched under his black shoes as he approached.

"Your parents left you all this for a reason, Potter." He began. "And, even though there's a lot of uncertainty right now regarding your future... You're going to have to support yourself no matter what you do. You'll need clothes, food, utensils... And you'll have to pay for all those things. So, do me a favor, stop trying to act humble and..." Snape uttered the next three words slowly and clearly. "Take. More. Money."

Harry looked at him in surprise for a few seconds, but, after recovering, he nodded and opened the bag again. When the Potions Master used that tone of voice, there was no possible reply. Besides, if he thought about it, he was right. So, he grabbed a couple more handfuls and then turned to Snape, hoping that that had left the man satisfied.

"More." He said, however.

Harry sighed. In his opinion he had taken enough money to last him for several years, but that voice did not admit arguing.

"Good." Snape said once Harry had put in another dozen galleons. "Now we can go."

The boy nodded, put the bag inside his robe, and then walked with Snape out of the chamber. Seeing that they had finished, the goblin took the lamp and hurried to close the door. As the key turned in the lock, causing a screeching sound, Harry watched the closed chamber with a strange sadness, thinking about what he was leaving inside. It was not the money, the coins, that provoked that feeling in him, but the fact that those metal circles, so cold and bright, were the only thing he had left of his parents. All their personal belongings had been destroyed by the explosion that took place that night in Godric's Hollow, and, after sixteen years, the few things that had survived were gone now. Stolen by some wizard who wanted to own something from the Potters or ruined because of exposure to the elements. Harry would have liked to hug his mother's coat, smell her perfume on it, put on his father's glasses, check if they both had the same eyesight, hold Lily and James's wands between his fingers, snuggle up in that bed where they had slept, feel protected under the covers... But the only thing he had of them, besides those coins deep under Gringotts, were the pictures that their old friends had sent to Hagrid during his first year. That, and half of the letter written by his mother that he had found in Grimmauld Place, the one that Snape had divided in two. Suddenly remembering what the professor had done, Harry raised his head, looking at him with a mixture of sadness, anger and longing. He wondered where that letter, that half of the photo, had ended up. However, as much as he wanted to know the answer, it was obvious that this was not the time, sitting in the cart that was moving at full speed, the shadows of the lamp dancing on the dark stone walls, with the goblin in front of him and Snape on Harry's side, still like a statue, with his long dark hair waving in the wind.

With his mind still deep in thought, focused on that object he had seen in Snape's memories, Harry didn't notice that they had left the cart, and that he had followed the Potions Master along the lobby, all the way to the outside of the bank. It wasn't until he felt the sunlight in his eyes and the air on his face, that the boy was finally aware of where they were.

"Wait a second..." He said, turning to Snape. "Sir, we are back in Diagon Alley."

"Once again, your powers of deduction amaze me, Potter." The man replied. "Indeed, we are here again."

Harry frowned and hurried after the Potions Master. Snape had started walking with his long strides, moving away from the main avenue into a side street parallel to it, where there were fewer people.

"But, sir," Harry insisted, "we haven't been to your chamber."

"Excuse me?"

"In Gringotts, I mean." Harry explained. "You forgot to take your money. Do you want us to go back?" He pointed at the beginning of the street, where there was the white side wall of the bank.

"No, Potter. Don't worry." Said Snape.

"But-"

"Before you insist," He added, "it's not that I've forgotten. I just don't keep my money inside Gringotts. And now, come. We have a lot of shops to visit."

But those words had piqued Harry's curiosity. The boy stopped in the middle of the street and asked:

"Really? Are there any other banks besides Gringotts?" It made sense of course, but he hadn't thought about it before.

"Yes, Potter, strange as it may seem, there is more than one bank in the whole country..."

Harry raised an eyebrow and, ignoring the sarcasm, said:

"And in which one do you keep your money?

"I don't." Said Snape dismissively.

"Really?" Harry's interest had only increased at the man's answer. "So where is it, then?"

"Hidden in a safe place." Replied the professor, starting to walk again, knowing that those words would capture the boy's attention and make him follow. Sure enough, Harry quickened his pace to walk next to Snape and asked:

"Safer than Gringotts?"

"More accessible." Snape corrected. "So, in case of emergency, I could escape without wasting time."

"Emergency?" The curiosity in the boy's face was obvious. "You mean in case Voldemort found out about you?"

When he heard those words, Snape stopped walking down the street. He instead took Harry by the arm and moved him to the side of the road, with annoyance in his face. Having a teenager behind him asking questions out loud and, even worse, saying the Dark Lord's name, was a sure way to get unnecessary attention. Using the entrance of an abandoned shop as cover, the Potions Master sighed, and then turned to Harry, who was still watching him with interest in his eyes, waiting for his answer.

"You need to be more discreet, Potter." He told him. But, knowing that they wouldn't be able to have a quiet walk unless he replied, he added: "And to answer your question… No, it wasn't for that. In that case I wouldn't have escaped, even if I could no longer act as a spy. As long as the Dark Lord was not defeated, my place would still be here."

Harry frowned, trying to make sense of those words.

"But then when...?" And then he understood. "Wait... were you going to run away after we won?"

Snape looked away, somewhat uncomfortably.

"It was an option, Potter. Even if I could show them my memories, there was a possibility that the members of the Order would not listen to me. That they might not believe that I had always been on their side. And, with you dead..." He closed his eyes for an instant as he said that word. "My purpose would have disappeared. It wouldn't make sense to stay in Britain."

"But..."

"I wasn't going to risk spending the rest of my days in Azkaban, Potter. Or worse, receive a Dementor's kiss."

Harry's face contracted at the image, and he pushed it away from his mind. He could begin to understand why Snape would want to leave Britain, but he didn't like to imagine him away from Hogwarts, from the Order, from everything he had known...

"But, sir, if you weren't going to stay here... Where were you planning to go?"

"Who knows?" Snape replied, shrugging slightly. "Albus always said that a bit of Sun would be good for me. So I had thought... the Mediterranean, maybe? Greece, Italy, Spain..." He listed those destinations with his fingers. "Or, perhaps, I could have gone to the other side of the world; to be even further away from the Aurors. South America, Asia, or some lost island in the middle of the Pacific… Any of these options would have been fine as a first step. But there's no point in talking about this, Potter." He added, shaking his head. "Things happened differently."

Despite that effort to put the subject to rest, Harry wasn't going to drop such an interesting topic.

"You said 'first step', sir." He reminded him. "What was the next part of the plan, then? To live the rest of your days lying on the beach, sunbathing?" Somehow, he didn't think that lifestyle suited the Snape he knew.

Those words caused the Potions Master to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Not exactly." He said. "While, after so many years, it is true that I would appreciate a couple of weeks of vacation... The truth is that it would become tedious and boring after a short time."

"Boring?"

"Yes..." Snape said. "I know that most people dream of retiring to such a place, to live their last years in the middle of the sand and the sea. But, to be honest, I think I would get tired of it quickly."

"And what would you do then, sir? With only cocktails, boat rides and spa sessions to spend your galleons on?" Harry asked with an amused smile. It was funny to imagine Snape in that situation.

The professor smiled back and said:

"Oh, I think sooner or later I would have thrown all my money into the sea and then finish things once and for all."

He had uttered those words with humor in his voice, but Harry could see the reality in them. He wasn't joking. The smile froze on his face.

"Sir?" He said, suddenly scared and worried. "Do you mean that-?"

"I didn't mean anything." Snape cut him off. "I was exaggerating, Potter."

But Harry had seen the truth in his eyes.

"No, you weren't."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, until, finally, Snape sighed.

"No, I wasn't." He repeated, averting his gaze. "But is it that surprising, Potter?

Harry swallowed, not knowing what to answer.

"What else could I do in those circumstances?" Snape continued, raising his voice. "With half the wizarding world against me and without any allies or anyone who cared about what happened to me?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, suddenly angry, "you could talk to Kinglsey, to McGonagall. Even with Remus if he had survived!" The few passersby near them turned around and Harry forced himself to maintain a proper tone of voice. "They would listen to you. I know they would."

"And what would that get me?" Said Snape, with emotion in his eyes. "Not to be sent to Azkaban, okay. And then? We wizards live longer than muggles, Potter, as you well know. I wouldn't want to spend the next hundred years rotting in my family's house, counting the days I have left."

Harry shook his head, stubbornness in his face.

"You could have started a new life." He insisted.

"I could..." Snape admitted. "And then what? Sooner or later, I would have made the same mistakes. I don't know how to live in a world without war, Potter. And, in those circumstances, I would have no reason to learn how. No." He said, shaking his head. "Give me the right potion and a comfortable place to lie down. It's much faster and less depressing than watching the years go by, one after the other, with nothing to justify staying here."

Harry opened his mouth to reply but realized that he had run out of words. His heart squeezed with sadness, however, imagining that parallel universe. The one where he was dead, and Snape had no one. The one where, lying on the sand of some lost beach, after drinking the "right potion", his eyes closed forever.

"Sir..." The boy began. His voice sounded weak and shaky, and Harry immediately fell silent upon hearing it.

Snape must have noticed too, because his expression changed, and his eyes tinged with a hint of worry.

"Potter, I didn't mean... I..." He said taking a tentative step towards the boy. "It's different now. Things are different now."

"I know…" Said Harry. "But I don't like to think about it. Even under those circumstances... you could have found something to live for. You are only what? Forty? Fifty?"

Snape grimaced.

"Thirty-eight. But I won't hold it against you."

In another moment Harry would have blushed, but he was too upset to do so.

"This is what I mean." He continued. "Thirty-eight. And there are many wizards who have reached over two hundred. Do you really think that in all that time you would not find anything that could make you happy? Friends? Hobbies? Even, I don't know... a partner?"

"Potter..." Snape sighed. "Why is this so important to you? There is no point in talking about what could have happened. I'm not going to disappear, I'm not going to go to any deserted beach, or to take any potions. You don't have to worry."

Harry bit his lip and looked around. There was no one near them, and he was glad once again that Snape had brought them down that street.

"I..." He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to think I'm giving myself too much importance, okay? It's just that... Between those two scenarios, the one we are in right now and the other... The only difference I see, sir, is that in one I am alive and in the other... I'm not."

Snape shifted uncomfortably.

"Potter..." He began. "I..."

"The thing, sir, is that that worries me. Because, if something were to happen to me, I don't want you to decide-"

"If something were to happen to you? What would happen to you, Potter?" Snape narrowed his eyes, suspicion in his gaze. "You're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?"

Harry realized what Snape was implying and he quickly shook his head. He hadn't thought about it, not really. Though, every now and then, he could feel an idea dancing and floating through his thoughts, like a shapeless cloud. That image had never taken a concise, clear form, but, sometimes, when he looked at it closely, especially on his worst nights, it began to take on an almost recognizable appearance. And, though it frightened him, a part of him wondered if it might not have been better to catch 'the next train' as Dumbledore had called it.

"No." He said, however, firmly and looking Snape in the eye. "It's just that life is unpredictable and, if I fall off my broom tomorrow, I don't want you to pay the consequences of my clumsiness."

Snape's gaze was on his face, studying him.

"You don't have to worry about me, Potter. Even if you did suffer that little accident... Things have changed and..." Snape cleared his throat, his typical awkwardness resurfacing as he showed some vulnerability, but he continued speaking. "That plan...that...that...vacation. It doesn't tempt me as much as it used to."

"Really?" Harry asked. He had to make sure.

"Really." Snape nodded. "But you'd better not fall off any brooms, Potter. You haven't come this far just to end up like that... Understood?"

"Understood, sir." Said Harry. "But, then, you'd better not drink 'the right potion'."

"I won't." Snape said solemnly. "I promise."

Harry nodded, and a strange silence fell between them. It wasn't awkward, though, quite the contrary. It was filled with an understanding that neither of them would have expected some time ago. It felt good, to be able to talk like this, about life and death, about thoughts that perhaps would have frightened other people. But not the two of them, who had lost and suffered so much. They both appreciated being able to say things that way, frankly and plainly, without beating around the bush, without evasiveness. And, above all, they appreciated knowing that each one of them would still be there, still living, still trying, no matter how hard it could get some days, and that, in part, it was thanks to the other.

Once the silence had gone on too long for Snape's comfort, he turned away from the abandoned shop and cleared his throat.

"Well, Potter..." He said. "I think we have taken enough time off. Should get on with our shopping then? We don't want to waste the whole day."

Harry nodded and had started to take a step forward when Snape added:

"Unless you want to ask me something else?"

The boy bit his lip, and the cut in half letter popped up in his mind. He still wanted to ask Snape about it, but something told him that wasn't the right time either. The subject would have to wait a bit longer.

"No, nothing else..." He said finally. He looked in front of him, his eyes roaming that street he'd never been in before. "Well, actually, yes." He corrected himself. "One thing."

Snape sighed impatiently, but then waved his hand for him to continue.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. "Most shops are in Diagon Alley, right?"

"Oh, we'll end up going back there, don't worry, Potter." Snape reassured him. "But, there are certain ingredients that they don't sell in regular apothecaries. For that we'll have to go to more, eh, interesting places."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Places like Knockturn Alley, specifically." Snape said, and his thin lips curved into a smile at the expression that had appeared on Harry's face.