Chapter Text
After an hour of waiting at Nelson's Column, Harry made sure he was put out to dry. Trafalgar Square was packed with people, hundreds of people passing him, locals and tourists but none of them were who he was waiting for. He checked his phone one last time and put it in his pocket. Calls from him were not answered, text messages remained unread.
With a sigh of defeat, Harry put his hands in his pockets and set off with a slow step, the remnants of the once huge flock of pigeons scattering under his feet. The weather was bright and sunny, so he decided to walk alone. He had planned to do it anyway, admittedly in company, he thought bitterly. Unhurriedly he turned into the first street, and from it into the next and the next, each time choosing the smallest one possible, enjoying the feeling of being lost among the hidden streets and corners of London, cobbled roads and tiny alleys he let guide him, so narrow that no cars drove there. This discovery of the unknown to him, but incredibly charming side of the city, filled him with a sense of freedom. Walking unhurriedly, he admired the beautiful old facades of restaurants and shops, painted in various colours, some with elaborate wrought-iron decorations, others raw, made of red bricks. In some places, over narrow streets hung strings of lamps.
Nevertheless, even here it was not empty, every now and then he passed by passers-by. In front of some buildings there were tables and chairs where people ate their meals, on the pavements there were advertising boards inviting people to try cakes, cupcakes, coffees and sodas or other things offered by a given small business. Harry's eyes were drawn to one with information written in chalk about buying and selling old and new books. The bookshop was housed in a narrow red-brick building with black metal wrought-iron decorations and ivy crawling all over it. Very atmospheric place, Harry thought. On impulse, he decided to buy himself something to read and then stop in for some cupcakes and coffee before sitting at one of the tables and enjoying his reading and meal. He realised that he had lost track of time while walking and that he was already starving.
A cat looked at him from behind the glass of the bookstore window, its translucent almost white slanted eyes watching him intently. Harry stopped in mid-step and smiled at the feline. As he looked at it, he noticed that the animal was old and worn out, its ears were twisted by the sun, one with a completely round tip, the other a little triangular. The body under the sagging skin covered with white and red fur was thin, every vertebra of the spine was visible. On its head it had patches of red separated and under its mouth there was a small dot which looked as if it had soiled itself with caramel. A feline elderly gentleman, thought Harry affectionately. He was so preoccupied with the cat that he did not even notice when the silhouette of a man appeared behind the animal, he just lifted his head at one point and looked at Snape's serious face, which disappeared in the middle of the room after a while.
Oh, that face he would recognise anywhere, that face he dreamt of night after night.
Harry felt a strange sensation in his heart, almost a physical pain. Without thinking long he pressed the door handle and, greeted by the ringing of the doorbell, stepped inside.
"Severus Snape!" he exclaimed stupidly before thinking about it, for which he mentally chastised himself but it was already too late. The whole room was literally overflowing with books and looked like an old illustration. All the walls were filled with bookshelves, the books on the shelves were arranged horizontally, vertically, squeezed into every scrap of space.
Apart from the bookshelves, in this cramped room there were also a desk that served as a shop counter and a comfortable, tattered old armchair and a reading couch squeezed in for customers, encouraging them to sit down and read the book of their choice before deciding to buy.
Snape was standing by one of the bookshelves, which was overflowing with books, and on the floor beside it lay a pile of books which he was apparently trying to fit into shelves. At Harry's exclamation he withered crookedly. "I've been feeling more like Gordon Comstock lately." He bent down and picked up a few, and laid them horizontally on top of the other books, title outward.
"What?" Harry fluttered his eyelids. He was still too stunned by the encounter to think logically and the former professor's absurd statement didn't make it any better.
"You are... do forgive me again, but unless I'm wrong, you are an ignorant person, aren't you?" Snape replied without turning around and not interrupting his work.
"What?"
Snape just sighed.
"What are you doing in the bookshop if you don't know The Master and Margarita?" He put down another book, looked at the others and shrugged his shoulders, apparently deciding that he was done looking for a place for them for now.
The Master and Margarita, Harry noted in his head. A well-known title. Well, he might look into it.
"Is it fantasy?" Just in case, however, he asked.
"Fantasy?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, fantasy. Why does that not surprise me, Potter?"
He turned around sweepingly, and although he was wearing his usual black muggle skinny jeans and oversized black t-shirt, with the eyes of his soul Harry could see the robes flying. "Yes, no doubt it could be called fantasy, Potter, as well as satire. But yes, if for you fantasy is what draws you to it then yes, it is fantasy. Well, sadly, all the wonderful layers of this book will probably escape you."
When the initial shock had finally passed Harry regained his composure.
"You don't like fantasy? Have you read A Song of Ice and Fire? It's great, although not finished. It's so addictive! Or The Witcher! I love those series, not only is the action engaging and fast-paced, it's full of humour and some damn good thoughts." He smiled slightly at Snape. He felt relaxed and strangely calm, Snape's demeanour was so very familiar, the years that had passed since they had last met had not softened the edges of his personality. Neither did his appearance; in Harry's eyes, in his absurdly ordinary clothes, Snape looked like a bathed Persian cat – under all that fluffy fur was such a tiny little body. And also an angry face. Yes, a wet Persian... Harry smiled even wider at his thoughts. Taking his time, he moved his gaze from his feet upwards, assessing the man standing before him. Early on, his robes added to his majesty; without them, his not-so-high stature was clearly conspicuous. He was surprised to realise that he was a few inches taller than him.
"It's certainly astonishingly popular." His melodious low voice snapped Harry out of his momentary reverie.
"Hmmm?" He returned his gaze to his face, appraising the slanted almond eyes, the pronounced nose and the wide mouth. Snape hadn't changed a bit, hadn't even aged a year even though it had been over ten years since the war had ended. Hmmm, 12 exactly. After the war, each went his own way, they did not keep in touch with each other.
But why should they, it's not like they were friends after all.
The former professor sighed heavily.
"That's a quote, Potter, never mind. And back on topic, do I look like someone who reads fantasy?"
If Harry was going to be honest, Snape not only looked like someone who reads The Witcher, but it was as if he was a character straight out of that book. Regis, for example. However, he decided it was better not to say it out loud, he still remembered his former professor's temper.
"You haven't read Tolkien?" Harry shrugged off the question.
"Don't answer a question with a question, Potter. Have you been taught anything even in English?"
Oh. Harry raised an eyebrow at that "even". Well Snape hasn't changed a bit, he thought with amusement. He still bites at every opportunity. Okay, if you want it, you got it!
"No, I've always come across poor teachers."
Snape just snorted with mockery. "So back to my first question, what are you doing here?"
In fact, why shouldn't he tell him the truth? Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly. "The guy stood me up, we were supposed to go on a date, so to avoid wasting the day I took a walk instead."
This got his companion's attention.
"I thought you were long married to Miss Weasley." Black eyes looked at him with slight surprise.
"With Ginny? No, we split up right after the war." Harry squatted on the desk without asking permission. "It wasn't the most pleasant but it was necessary. I didn't want to deceive her. Hermione and Ron were very supportive of me after I came out."
Snape just nodded, clearly still analysing what he had heard. Harry hoped he wasn't about to jump out with some homophobic comment. He looked around the tiny room.
"You know what, why don't you come out to lunch with me at one of those tiny restaurants next door? That was my plan, buy something to read and go get something to eat. So, will you come with me?"
Snape just nodded and headed for the exit, turning the sign from "'welcome" to "closed" on the way. He was strangely silent the whole time. They chose a lovely restaurant with Italian cuisine.
Once they were seated at a table and the waitress brought them menus Harry looked at Snape.
"So who is Gordon Comstack?" He couldn't hide the fact that Snape's unusual behaviour bothered him a little.
"It's Comstock, not Comstack, Potter. It's the main character from Keep the Aspidistra Flying."
Again the mentoring, slightly indignant tone – okay, not too bad, Snape replied in his usual manner. Phew. "Why did you introduce yourself that way?"
Snape put down the menu and took a drink of water from a glass in front of him. "You'd have to read the book to know that."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll read it."
Before Snape could answer anything more beyond "Oh?" in a defiant tone, the waitress came over and collected their orders.
While eating they talked about rather neutral topics but Harry noticed that Snape was again slightly absent-minded, as if his mind was not 100% in the conversation.
Finally, he couldn't stand it.
"Does the fact that I'm gay outrage you that much?"
Snape raised his head abruptly looked at him in surprise, his long hair waving in the air before it fell again on his bony shoulders.
"Nonsense, Potter, where did you get that idea?" It didn't look like he was lying, in fact he had no reason to. He never lied to him.
"Then what is it?" Harry had to know.
Snape, a slender pale hand reached out and brushed his hair back behind his ears before he spoke. Harry guessed he was buying some time.
"Too bad smoking outside restaurants is banned, I'd love to have a cigarette right now." He sighed, not looking at Harry. "It's nothing, it's just new to me, I didn't know about it, that's all. I still remember you as the brat that the girls chased and he took advantage of."
Harry opened his mouth in indignation.
"What?? I was taking advantage of it??? What nonsense, I've only slept with Ginny and maybe three times, it was a disaster every time. Is that what you thought of me?" Harry clenched his hands tightly on the cutlery. He lifted his gaze for a moment and looked Harry in the eye.
"Too much private information, Potter. And what was I supposed to think? As Malcom Forbes said 'More often than not, things and people are as they appear.'"
Before Harry had time to say anything he added, "Yes, of those Forbes." He nervously tapped his finger on the top of the table they were sitting at, he seemed nervous again to Harry, and he couldn't understand the reason for it.
"Do you always talk in quotes now?"
Harry noticed that Snape's body tensed, clearly with the question he was making a situation he didn't know existed even worse.
"If I may, yes." He was no longer looking at Harry, his gaze wandering somewhere behind his back. Every now and then people passed them, but they paid no attention, at that moment only the two of them existed.
"Why?" Harry risked asking. He twitched when Snape almost shouted with obvious annoyance.
"Why, why? You ask like a child, Potter. Why? Because it's easier that way." As he finished speaking his voice returned to its normal tone.
"Easier?" Harry couldn't have been more surprised. "But you don't avoid adversity!" He looked with uncomprehending eyes at his former professor who, with a glance, let the waitress know that they had finished their meal and was asking for the bill. When they had each paid for themselves, they stood up and headed towards Snape's shop.
"You don't know me, Potter. You're talking about someone who died a long time ago." Harry nodded, preferring not to speak on the subject.
Before his eyes, he was changing from a mysterious witch to an irritable hag. Whatever had thrown Snape off balance had escaped his attention. Instead, he followed him inside.
"If you have Keep the Aspidistra Flying I would like to buy it."
Snape looked at him slightly surprised and nodded. He walked over to the shelf, and as if he knew where every book stood he just reached in and pulled out this one.
Harry paid for it and nodded goodbye.
"See you later! I'll come again in a few days when I've read this book." He was already reaching for the door handle when Snape's voice stopped him.
"This is not a fantasy book. I'm warning you just in case, so you don't resent me for making you read something in a different genre."
Harry smiled at him and left. He was grateful to the guy for not showing up for his date, he wasn't sure if the day would have been as interesting if he had spent it with him.