Harry’s visit to the Burrow was the most congenial for a long time. Although taking everybody by surprise, it was as if the news of Ron and Hermione having a baby finally dampened the ominous consciousness of Ginny’s and Harry’s separation that had loomed over every visit at the Burrow since it transpired so dramatically that day last December. The family rejoiced in having something else to focus on, and it was not difficult to understand, from Mrs Weasley’s fussing over Hermione, that the matron of the family longed for a grandchild of her own. It had been pretty transparent that she had harboured high hopes for Bill and Fleur ever since their marriage nearly three years ago now, but that her expectations had been disappointed by the young couples’ high ambitions and choices of careers. She had of course in the meantime consoled herself with helping out with Teddy, but from her rosy cheeks and shining eyes when she looked lovingly at Ron, it was obvious that welcoming her first grandchild was going to be one of the peaks of Mrs Weasley’s life.

The visit to Neville and Alice Longbottom at Alberta Longbottom’s house also took place without mishap. Once Harry had acknowledged and articulated his initial impulse of jealousy at the reunion of his friend with his long absent mother, Harry had been able to process his feelings of shame and had indeed come to the conclusion that his reaction had more to do with his own traumas than actually begrudging his friend the peace of mind and happiness he deserved. Relying on these processed feelings, Harry was able to genuinely attend and congratulate the reunited family, and relish in the quiet but intense atmosphere of gratitude and bliss that reigned in Alberta Longbottom’s house.

When coming home the same evening to the lonely room he had once shared with Ginny at Grimmauld Place, instead of brooding and wallowing over his own fate and that of his parents, Harry dutifully set to work to prepare the next day’s visit to Snape’s. He reread his notes from the autumn on Ancient Magic and tried to pick up the thread again. The understanding, the visualisation and the protection of human emotions – that was what Ancient Magic was all about.

Harry could not entirely explain to himself why he preferred to visit Snape at Spinner’s End. Maybe it was the plain muggleness of the area which reminded him of his own upbringing in Little Whinging that Harry found familiar, only Spinner’s End looked older, dirtier and duller. Maybe it made Snape a little more human to Harry, reminding him of the fact that even if Snape was an authority, in charge of Hogwarts and a superior wizard, Snape had, just like Harry, a troubled past. Or maybe it was because Lily had lived in the neighbourhood once, and Harry liked to think of his mother having played in the play-grounds and wandered the streets he was now visiting.

A bit wary of each other, but both eager for their meeting to take place without incidents, Harry and Snape set to work promptly as soon as Harry entered the house that he had fled so suddenly on the first morning of the new millennium. Working was safe with both wizards: reading books, referencing and discussing theories were safe, because in this field they could appreciate one another without fear of misunderstandings. Harry was pleased to find that he could concentrate on the task and that the anger that had been boiling under the surface for so long did not emerge to interfere with understanding the processes of Ancient Magic.

At one moment, after having worked harmoniously for a long while, Snape disappeared into the kitchen to make tea, and Harry rose to stretch his legs. He ended up in front of Snape’s massive bookcases, reading the titles on the backs of the books. He picked one out, opened it and started to turn the pages as if looking for something specific. A short while later, when Snape entered with a tray, he found Harry reading with a deep furrow between the eyes. Snape glanced at the title of the book and pressed his lips together just as Harry looked up and started at the professor’s expression, although Snape tried to rearrange his features into something neutral at once.

“I just… wanted to check something,” Harry said rapidly. “I know, it’s not a nice book – Dark Arts and everything, but…” Harry fidgeted when Snape didn’t say anything. “Listen,” Harry said exasperated, “I don’t know why I’d have to explain myself to you, but it has to do with a patient we had at the ward.”

Snape put his tray down and made a show of spreading his hands in an innocent gesture.

“I have reproached you nothing,” he said calmly. Harry eyed him suspiciously but ended up giving away a short reluctant, snorting laugh, since Snape managed to look back at him with so studied inscrutability that it was comical. Snape smiled faintly and sat down. “Do you want to tell me?” he asked benevolently.

“Ok.” Harry sat down and lay the book carefully on the table at a safe distance from the mugs filled with tea. “It was this middle aged wizard who came to the emergency after having had a vicious fit of seizures at his work at the Ministry. It turned out that he had experienced similar fits of increasing intensity over the past week, always at his work place. This time it got so bad that he hit his head. When he stayed at home, however, he never had a single fit. It made us suspect that he was cursed, maybe by a fellow colleague who didn’t want him there.”

Snape nodded, interested.

“He was admitted to our ward at St Mungo’s, and his head injury was treated, but the healers couldn’t crack the curse. Instead it continued to progress. He started to have fits every time he came out to have his meals with the other patients, then a few days later they came upon him whenever he went to the bathroom. He ended up being bedridden, despite loads of anticonvulsant potions. I was surprised that the senior healers didn’t try to target the curse itself. The head of the department only said that we should wait for the Aurors to catch the culprit responsible for casting the curse, because they had started investigating all the employees at the victim’s office. I hadn’t quite heard of a progressing curse like that and it annoyed me that we were unable to crack it.”

“It’s an interesting, particularly vicious entity of magic,” Snape responded. “I see that you found the right passage.” Snape nodded towards the book. “Have you made out how to counter it?”

“Well, let’s see,” said Harry. He had not had much time to translate his new knowledge of the curse – the book he had been reading contained a detailed description of how to cast it – into deducing how to undo it, but it seemed to him that there was one crucial element. ”There’s a mind-modifier spell at accelerating repeat involved,” he said.

“Indeed, there often is with curses that affect the functions of the human body, particularly the brain, and which are designed to progress and deteriorate,” said Snape, looking encouragingly at Harry. “You’re on the right track.”

“Someone really wanted to plague this guy,” Harry shuddered at the evilness behind the curse and cast a look at the book again, which was full from one cover to the other of such curses. He sighed and pulled himself together. “Right, the cure…” He grimaced, looking under his fringe at Snape. “It’s a matter of knowing in which order to undo that modifier,” he said, “because it takes several steps – let’s see: a time breaking incantation, followed by a spell detaching, or spell separating one…?”

“Both,” said Snape. “They have slightly different effects and are both needed.” Harry nodded.

“Elements of Reducio all along the way, of course,” Harry continued, with eyes half closed, concentrating, “mind-strengthening incantations and membrane stabilizing ones for the neurons and… and the counter of intent?” Harry looked inquisitively at Snape.

“Indeed,” Snape confirmed, “the counter of intent is crucial. You, as a healer, need to introduce the benevolence apt to counter the original spite which fuelled the curse. It appears to me that the counter of intent incantation has many elements similar to these envelopment spells we’re reading about in Ancient Magic, don’t you think? Where you need to find a way to package and condition a human feeling into a spell, so to speak. Interesting!”

Harry found the idea of identifying possible traces of Ancient Magic in modern healing incantations fascinating and they discussed it for a long while.

“Did I get the cure right?” Harry finally returned to the case at St Mungo’s again.

“You got all the elements needed right, but you’d have needed to start with the mind-strengthening incantation before the time-breaking one in this case, otherwise you’d have no chance of breaking the curse,” said Snape. Harry shook his head.

“How is one supposed to make that out?” he said a bit exasperated. “Because of the many elements, there’re so many possible combinations regarding the order in which they’re supposed to be cast!”

“Experience,” Snape said calmly. “I had a lot of that when I served as a healer among my fellow Death Eaters.” Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“I thought you would know,” he answered. “Very few healers have that kind of experience, though. At the time the patient we’re discussing was at the ward – it was some time ago, before we found the Pleasure Temple and all that – I actually suggested to the other healers that we should ask for you to come. I knew you could have helped. But they were reluctant. Said it was only a question of days before the Aurors would catch the culprit and they would be able to break the curse from that end. But in the meantime they let the patient deteriorate, drugging him with strong, yet not very efficient, potions.”

Snape shrugged.

“Of course,” Harry went on, “now that I’ve seen your reaction to when we disturbed you in class when Hermione was cursed – maybe cursed - I do understand my fellow-colleagues are a bit reluctant to call you in…” The professor made a wry face.

“I guess I’ve not made myself very popular among some of the other healers at St Mungo’s...” said Snape. “Or it might be the fact that I was a Death Eater for all those years – it does not precisely inspire confidence, does it?” he added lightly.

“But you never hurt a patient,” Harry stated, but in a slightly interrogative and suddenly anguished tone. Snape raised his eye-brows but was quick to reassure Harry:

“I never hurt a patient at St Mungo’s.” After a short pause Snape continued: “But all those years between the Dark Lord’s first fall and his rebirth thirteen years later, I didn’t put people straight as to my loyalties on purpose. You know why and you know first-hand how few, if any, there were who believed me to be on the side of the good at that time. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that not all the colleagues at St Mungo’s trust me, regardless of my temper.”

Harry sighed and hummed: of course he knew all too well the complexity of Snape’s character and reputation, being one of those persons convinced during all those years that Snape was evil. But that was history now, they had put all that behind them last year. Which did not mean they still did not have issues to deal with, because the old issues of Snape’s loyalty had been replaced by more personal issues which Harry knew even less how to approach. He sighed again. It had been a nice little chat, and productive work with Snape, but it had not exactly been personal, had it? Well, it was time to leave anyway. Reluctantly Harry rose and started to collect his things. Snape was silent but looked as if he wanted to say something more. Harry glanced at him several times, waiting for something to come, but the wizard did not utter a word. More resigned than disappointed Harry drew back towards the door.

”It was nice to work with you, Sever… Professor,” he said politely, but stopped and shook his head angrily at himself.

Snape looked a bit embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I really mean no disrespect when I use your first name,” stuttered Harry. “I don’t understand why I… It just keeps popping up in my head.” He made a pause before he launched on. “Actually, I do know why - It’s that note that my mother wrote to you... It was so personal… I’ve read it over and over in my head so many times, trying to figure out what it all means.”

Snape started, and opened his mouth to reply, but Harry silenced him with a destitute gesture.

“I’m so sorry, Professor. I know that you cannot speak of it. I already plagued you by pressuring you about Hades Hatch and your childhood the other day, and I know that I shouldn’t mention Lily’s note again, and still I cannot leave it. Maybe it’s no use us seeing each other… I’m bound to upset you. I’m a living reminder to you of things you’d rather bury deep down…” Snape interrupted him in a muffled but determined voice.

“Please Harry, that’s not true, you mustn’t think so. I made that clear in Mrs Steadfast’s office the other day, didn’t I? I want to keep in touch and I want work with you. I want to be your friend - I’ll keep repeating it.”

“But I remind you of Lily in such a painful way! When I was in your Office before Christmas, you couldn’t even meet my gaze. It made you suffer so much!” Harry’s voice went up in distress. Snape drew a quick breath and continued in a pained, slightly stuttering, although still determined voice:

“The grief over Lily… overwhelms me at times… You must understand… I loved her and lost her… I realise that the fact that the grief… engulfs me… to such a point… must seem… aberrant to you. It frightened you to see me like that, I realise that… but it has nothing to do with you… I assure you… I’ve been having attacks of despair… ever since she disappeared… An abyss of Grief suddenly opens in front of me… And I fall into it… Only, I’ve made sure before to be alone when it happens… It was that note… Her hand addressing me… It took me by surprise… I’m sorry that I cannot speak about it… I appreciate your need to understand… And I’m truly sorry I cannot speak more to you about your mother… It all happened before you were born, and I don’t understand the sequence of events very well myself. I’ve been over it so many times, and it’s just an infinite loop of… of doubts, and guilt and… and of lost love…” Snape spoke hoarsely towards the end, almost whispering. Harry averted his eyes and stayed silent a long while before answering Snape in a stubborn, small voice.

“That note was written when I was more than one year old. Please, what did she mean by asking your forgiveness? Why did she write to you like that?” Snape squirmed. His breath was starting to heave.

“I… I guess she might have had a moment of sentimentality… We had been friends… and more…” Snape breathed, and half turned his back to Harry. “I think that she meant to give me some kind of explanation… to say that she was sorry… Because, at one point… at one point we made a promise to each other to reunite… I promised I would leave Voldemort, quit as a Death Eater and she promised me she would leave James… But it did not happen that way… She changed her mind… She married him and they had you… And she never gave me an explanation…”

“When?” Harry insisted in a croaky voice. “When did you make this promise to one another?”

“In the summer,” Snape confessed in a whisper. “The same summer you told us about when James and Sirius were partying by the Riviera. Lily told me James and she had split up. But then, suddenly, a few months later only, they were back together… I… I had an accident that autumn and I was… absent for a while… so I… I never understood her sudden change of mind…”

While talking, Snape had taken a few steps away from Harry and was supporting himself with a hand against the wall. He looked as if he had a hard time keeping himself together. Harry realised that Snape was at the limit of what he could bear to share. Lily’s betrayal, although so distant in time, was still an open wound, and the grief over her death was still crude and unprocessed after all the years.

“I’m so sorry, Sev… Professor,” Harry mumbled. His chest felt tight. “You have such cause to be angry with me. Rightfully angry for intruding once again on your personal life… It’s only that… that it overlaps with mine… And that I, too… I… Since Ginny left, I’ve become more preoccupied with understanding who I am, really… and with understanding my past… And you seem to be there, somehow, in my past, to a much greater extent than I thought initially… But I realise you have such true cause to grieve - you don’t know how much I appreciate that, because… because my mother is gone… completely gone, unlike Ginny… who I still hope… where I cannot help myself from hoping that… I mean, I couldn’t even imagine what I would feel if Ginny was truly gone… and… and I apologise for pressuring you, Sir. I realise you cannot possibly want me around, Professor.” Harry finished abruptly, sounding subdued and withdrawing towards the door, ready to leave Snape alone. Snape drew a rattling breath, let go of the wall, and turned determinedly to Harry.

“Severus… I’ve already told you to call me Severus… I mean it, I would be glad! It’s not your fault, Harry. It’s true, I’ve been angry in the past… because of James… And it’s true that your eyes remind me of your mother’s, inevitably they do, I won’t deny it – they always will… but most of all… most of all… this spring… you do remind me very much – not of James, not of Lily, but of myself at the same age… It pains me more than anything to see what you’ve been going through with Miss Ginny, but I’d like to help you, and if possible spare you making the same mistakes that I did…”

Harry looked down on the floor. His eyes were stinging.

“I’m not very good at relationships of any kind, Harry…” continued Snape, speaking more composedly and matter-of-factly now. “You’re already a much braver and better person than I ever was from the start, so I’m not sure I have much to come with, but I’d like to try…” - Harry looked doubtingly at him - “…if you’ll only let me…” Snape’s gaze bored into Harry’s. “We work well together you and me, and don’t you see, for us to continue with this work on Ancient Magic that Lily made use of is a way of honouring her without speaking of her directly, because I cannot always do that. I cannot…” Snape still held Harry’s gaze. “And contrary to what you seem to think, I am quite clear nowadays over the fact that I want you around. The ambiguity about you is quite gone after this spring. Even if I have to struggle when you confront me, I think that you are good for me, Harry.”

Harry looked at him and shook his head disbelievingly.

“I really do,” Snape insisted. “You… you wake me up from someplace very sombre… You keep me alert… Give me something to… give me a healthy challenge… So, don’t read anything personal into my reluctance to speak of your mother. And don’t flee from me. Come back next week and work with me again, please.” Harry looked at the black-clad, stern and often so difficult-to-read wizard before him, who right now seemed so utterly sincere. Could it be true that Snape actually meant what he said and wanted Harry around? He inclined his head to one side tentatively.

“I’ll be happy to come back and work with you, Professor,” he said slowly.

“Severus,” Snape corrected him firmly. Harry blinked.

“Severus,” he said, and his face broke up in a smile that finally reached his eyes. After a short pause he added in a happier, more boyish tone of voice: “Will you stay after classes and do some training with me one evening this week? It’s been so long since we practiced the Double Knight’s Move?”

“Sure,” said Snape. “I could use some exercise. Been far too lazy lately.” And he gave Harry one of his rare smiles in return.