Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Cries of joy were mixed with cries of despair. Families huddled together to mourn the loss of their loved ones. They expected Harry to console them and the boy had no idea what to tell them. Those who weren't overcome with mourning, rushed to Harry's side to congratulate him, to touch the Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the one who defeated Voldemort.

Harry was tired, he longed for the sole company of his closest friends instead of the crowd. He just wanted to lie down in his bed in Gryffindor's tower and sleep for a week.

''Potter! Potter!'' Minerva McGonagall called after him, pacing quickly in his direction. She must have finished putting tables in the Great Hall back to their places. Her voice was unnusually high-pitched for her.

Harry sighed, seeing he won't be able to rest as soon as he'd wished to. He expected his professor to have questions, even though he'd explained the majority of Dumbledore's plan before the final duel with Voldemort. He raised his eyes to look at the woman approaching him. Her hair was a mess and her glasses were slightly askew, but that was nothing out of ordinary – no one cared for their appearance in those circumstances. What drew Harry's attention was McGonagall's pale face and slightly trembling hands.

''Potter, ah, there you are!'' transfiguration teacher was taking a breath, running after her pupil had visibly exhausted her. ''Potter, Harry, tell me – is it true?''

Harry blinked, feeling as if he were Obliviated or Confunded and McGonagall was referring to some information that was erased from his memory. ''Wh-what is true, Professor?'' he blurted out. ''If you are asking about what I told Voldemort, then yes. I think the wand affirmed it recognises me as its owner when it refused to obey Voldemort,'' he rushed to offer his interlocutor an answer in hopes of being left alone for a while.

''Yes, but Severus...'' McGonagall hesitated. ''He was on our side all this time?'' Minerva was clearly struggling to believe that.

Harry nodded. ''It was all Dumbledore's orders. Without Professor Snape's help...'' he lost a track for a moment, maybe thanks to his fatigue, and thought of the locket and the silver doe. Then he noticed McGonagall furrowing her eyebrows and shook his head to wake himself up a bit. ''I don't think we would be able to win without his help.''

''I hope you don't mind asking me, Potter, but how do you know?'' now she looked more eager to find the evidence supporting the story than doubtful of its verity. ''Mere hours ago we fought Severus and chased him away.''

Harry had an idea of what she meant. ''He played his part well. He fooled everyone, Professor, both the Order and Death Eaters. I...,'' he turned his face not wanting to look into McGonagall's face when he reveals the origin of his knowledge. He swallowed and tried again. ''I was there when Voldemort killed him. He ordered Nagini to do it and Snape couldn't run away.''

''Professor Snape!'' McGonagall reminded strictly.

Harry nodded. He had made up his mind to honour Snape by finally calling him 'Professor' upon learning the truth, but as Harry was unused to doing so, it slipped his mind. ''Voldemort left and Professor Snape was lying on the floor with his neck torn. I don't know why, but I approached him and he-he gave me his memories. And then he died. And I finally saw the truth and knew what I had to do,'' Harry didn't know why he was spilling all those details. He just wanted to get out of his head the image of the man he had hated with such a burning passion bleeding on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. Another victim who sacrificed his life for Harry and the cause. He didn't want to hear his plea to look at him. Inspite of him turning his gaze away his eyes caught the sight of Minerva covering her mouth in shock and the tears welling in her eyes.

''Poor Severus!'' the woman had a lump in her throat.

Poor Severus, indeed, Harry thought and recalled Dumbledore pitying his spy. It was unfair the man risked his life on daily basis and finally lost it receiving no recognition but only contempt from the people he'd done it for, even if it had happened on his own request. Then again, it wasn't fair that many people, who didn't deserve to die, died that day.

McGonagall procured a handherchief and blew into it. ''Dear Merlin! All those years of putting his line on the line and I called him a coward!'' she lamented. ''Albus always trusted him. I shouldn't have doubted Albus' instinct. Oh, why I haven't trusted Severus as well!''

''Professor Snape knew the risk and the stake. He didn't want anyone to know the role he played'' Harry offered in hopes of lessening the guilt he saw building in his teacher, but his own treacherous mind replayed Snape yelling 'Don't call me a coward!'. No, Snape should never have been called that word.

McGonagall blew her nose again. ''Where is he now? We should lay him next to the fallen protectors of the Castle. That is where he deserves to be,'' she stated and Harry admitted ashamed in his mind that amidst the tumult he had forgotten of his ex-Potions and DADA teacher's body.

''The Shrieking Shack.''

McGonagall nodded in acknowledgement. ''Get some rest, Potter. Merlin knows you need it. I will take care of it.''

---

Minerva rushed towards the Shrieking Shack not telling anyone where she was heading. She was sure the school would manage just fine without her for the next half an hour or so. Her heart was beating anxiously, afraid of the view that awaited her there. She saw enough deaths on that day, enough bodies of her deceased colleagues and her students.

This matter, however, could not wait. Severus' body could not be left in the Shack to rot away. He deserved to be buried with honours amongst the fallen of the Light side, he deserved a speech on his deeds. McGonagall made a firm resolution honour Severus' memory. He had been a Slytherin, yet he had been braver than the majority of her Gryffindors.

She opened the door of the Shrieking Shack with a heavy heart. Her eyes quickly found the man covered in blood lying on the floor. His hands were slumped on the floor and his eyes were closed.

''Oh, Severus!'' Minerva knelt by his side uncaring if she stained her robe with his blood. With a trembling hand she brushed away a lock of his greasy hair from his morbidly pale face. ''I am so sorry,'' she sobbed. ''If only Albus had told me! I am so sorry,'' she repeated and tears were running down her face. ''You were the bravest of us all and you've never spoken a word of it. You sacrificed your life for our victory and you can't even rejoice with us over the war's end,'' she tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and sniffed. ''I wish things had gone differently,'' she sniffed, but then something caught her attention – a droplet of blood running down Snape's mutilated neck.

Minerva stared strangely at the droplet. It wasn't dried, although it should have been. Hadn't Voldemort said he had killed Severus three hours ago? Hadn't Harry confirmed Severus' death? But dead do not bleed.

She carefully raised Snape's left hand. It was colder than usual human body temperature, but it wasn't stiff. On the contrary, it was limp. It was possible Severus' body hasn't entered into rigor mortis yet, but that couldn't explain fresh blood on his neck.

The conclusion has probably scared her even more than the anticipation of the sight of his dead body. She didn't want to give herself a false hope. Reluctantly she placed her hand over his chest. ''Severus!'' Minerva exclaimed in shock mixed with relief feeling his weak heartbeat and his laboured breath. Her relief quickly turned into worry. He's been lying here all this time! By all means he should have been dead by now. How much time did he have left? She needed to stop bleeding! She needed to get him to Madam Pomfrey urgently!

---

Severus Snape opened up his eyes. His own action took him by surprise, so he blinked few more times. Indeed, he was able to blink. He did not expect he would be able to do that ever again. Apparently, death did not mean an end of corporeal form. He was well aware what had happened: Dark Lord calling him to a meeting, the snake, the loss of all hope at the realisation he had failed his mission and then against all odds the boy appearing next to him. And the emptiness that was claiming him.

He didn't feel sorry for himself for dying. He had long known it would most likely end that way. Of course he wasn't actively seeking death like those hot-headed Gryffindors. He had anticipated Nagini's attack for quite some time. For the last few months before the meetings with the Dark Lord he would take the antidote Arthur Weasley had been given following the attack. One of the last important pieces of information he had been able to get from the Order. This only served to prove the extend of his own naivety. What good the antidote had been when he had bled out to death? He hadn't even had the time to close the wounds. Thanks Merlin he had at least managed to give the boy his memories. And by doing so he had failed Lily once again, sentencing her son to untimely demise.

''Severus!'' familiar voice called him and he turned his face to see Poppy's face. He furrowed his eyebrows confused. Was she dead too or this was his imagination?

''Poppy?'' he croaked out and felt a pain in his neck where Nagini's fangs had struck. He tried to sit up, but his body failed him. He groaned tiredly and closed his eyes again. It didn't make sense. Obviously death was a foreign land, but shouldn't it mean the end of physical pain? Maybe it was hell – that's where he deserved to be, after all. And what the hell Poppy Pomfrey was doing here? He opened up his eyes again and this time he noticed the ceiling above his head. It looked like the one in the Hospital Wing. No, something wasn't right.

''Severus, can you hear me?'' Poppy asked.

Severus run his hand down his face irritated by his own confusion. ''Yes, Poppy. I can,'' he answered considering asking her what in Merlin's sake was going on?

Poppy smiled. ''Oh, splendid! We were all so worried about you. You were comatose for a week! I was starting to worry we wouldn't be able to wake you up.''

Snape narrowed his eyes looking at the healer. ''Comatose?'' He refrained himself from asking if it meant he was not actually dead, not wanting to appear more ridiculous than he already felt. Besides, there were more important information to discuss than his vital status. ''Dark Lord?''

Madam Pomfrey looked at him disapprovingly. ''I don't know why you still insist on calling him by that name,'' she scoffed. ''It makes you sound as if you were one of them.'' Severus did not have the strength to argue that he was a bearer of the Dark Mark, making him 'one of them', although it took him by surprise she sounded as if she didn't believe that to be true. Everyone knew Severus Snape was Dark Lord's servant! He made sure of that. ''Lord Voldemort is no more,'' she stated straightening her back and raising her head proudly.

''So we won?'' the spy asked quietly, his confusion and tiredness alongside Poppy's strange demeanour making him forget for a moment to hide his true loyalties.

''Yes, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were defeated,'' Poppy sounded offended he made her repeat herself.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows again, wondering why she immediately assumed he had meant the Light side by 'we'. So Potter was dead, he felt his body slump. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. I'm sorry Lily. I know it changes nothing, but I regret things have come to this, he thought. Her sacrifice was for naught. What worth was the victory in the end, when there nothing remained of her, not even the extruciatingly infuriating boy?

''Ah, that's enough for now – I can see you are tired,'' she tutted. ''I have to inform our Headmistress you are awake. Minerva will be glad to hear it. It was her who found you in the Shrieking Shack.'' With a quick flick of her want she produced a glass of water. She put it on the bed table and helped Severus sit up. ''There,'' she carefully handed him the glass of water. ''You must be parched.''

Only taking a sip Severus felt how much his lips were dried. ''Thank you, Poppy,'' he spoke in a coarse voice and coughed.

Madam Pomfrey helped him lie down and excused herself, pointing out other patients required her attention as well.

Severus stared at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the concept of him surviving Nagini's attack. And why the hell Poppy was so friendly? Shouldn't she want him dead for killing Dumbledore and betraying the Order and the school? There was no way she could be aware of his true allegiance. Apparently Minerva survived the war as well. Good, she would take a good care of this school. Maybe she would come to talk to him and finally explain him what the hell was going on.

Chapter Text

Being the Headmistress of Hogwarts was a consuming job. Following the battle of Hogwarts it was nearly a 24 hours/7 days job with all that noting down the damages done to the castle, planning repairs, managing rooms for the wounded, discussing burials with families of the fallen and then attenting them and giving speeches.

And there was the question of Minerva's legality as the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Severus was lying unconscious in the Hospital Wing. Yes, he had fled the school following the fight, but did it count if he had done for the sake of his mission? Truth be told, she could not say Severus had done a good job as the Headmaster, but she had to admit he'd had a thankless task dancing on the line between two sides of the conflict. Still, it was a lesser concern as she had piles of more pressing matters to attend.

She wished Albus was there, the real Albus, not the painting. He would have known how to deal with all those matters more efficiently, even if quite a lot of them were of Albus' own making as it appeared. Former headmasters' paintings provided wonderful assistance, but they could never replace the real person.

McGonagall was called by the acting Minister for Magic to discuss the state of school and likeliness of opening it for the next school year. She took a Floo from the Headmaster's office to Minister's office.

Kingsley's office was lavish compared to the current state of Hogwarts, on which the war had taken the most grievous toll. Portraits of former ministers watched Minerva with a great interest as she stepped out of the fireplace and brushed off the dust of her emerald-green robes.

''Headmistress, what news do you have for me?'' Kingsley greeted her with a slight smile.

Minerva intertwined her fingers and spoke in a businesslike manner. ''Now, now, Minister, let's not get ahead of ourselves, I'm just an acting Headmistress.'' Minerva, being cautious in her guesses for the future (after all she wasn't some irrational seer, like Sybill for instance), preferred to think of herself as an acting Headmistress, even if others set their minds on calling her 'Headmistress'.

''And I, Minerva, am an acting Minister,'' Shacklebolt reminded kindly. ''Now that we have exchanged our pleasantries, how is the Castle?''

''As you are already aware, several walls collapsed due to explosions and attacks of giants. Moreover, some rooms were subject to fire and some other to floods. The greatest concern are the walls, however, and the wards around the Castle. I don't think I have to remind you the Hogwarts Castle hasn't built within a span of short few days. Rebuilding collapsed sections will take weeks in the most optimistic scenario, but it could even take years for Hogwarts to return to its former glory!''

Kingsley nodded, already expecting that answer. ''How do you feel about opening the school in September?''

''Well, it's hard to assess the situation after a mere week after the battle, wouldn't you agree, Minister?'' Minerva arched an eyebrow. ''But I am hopeful that we can accept students in September if some sections remain closed during school year until fully repaired. However, it would be unwise to rule out the possibility of the school year starting later than usually this time. As for N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, taking into account the state of the Castle and tragedies of many families, there is no point in carring them out before the school re-opens.''

''I agree on that,'' Kingsley walked back and forth with his hands folded behind his back on an exquisite rug inlaid with golden embroidery of mythical creatures only the Lovegoods could believe to be exist. ''Additionally, as it pains me to say it, several teaching posts were emptied in the recent events and you might require some time to find suitable successors.''

Minerva sighed with a heavy heart. ''Yes, I am aware of this issue, however, as the loss of my colleagues is still a fresh wound, excuse me, but I would prefer not to discuss this matter further just yet. As we have agreed, we still have nearly four months to find new teachers,'' she slightly raised her chin, communicating she was not going to pick up the subject again during this conversation. ''Now, if we are quite finished debating the state of Hogwarts, I would like to ask a few questions of my own.''

''By all means, Minerva,'' Shacklebolt nodded politely.

''How is Ministry's haunt for the Death Eaters? There are rumours of loose bands in western Wales,'' McGonagall's tone was a tiny bit accusatory.

''I won't lie to you, Minerva – it is true we haven't arrested every single one of them. It is a process, you most likely remember how much time it had taken the last time. But we have some notable names – for instance the Malfoys are held in custody.''

''Malfoys are the least of my concern!'' Minerva scoffed. ''They didn't even play an active role in the battle of Hogwarts. Since the battle of Ministry they had fallen out of favour with Voldemort. They surrendered willingly,'' she reminded.

Kingsley scratched his temple. ''I understand your impatience, but as we can't rebuild the Castle in one day, we can't track down all the Death Eaters at once. But I do seem to recall you are keeping one in the school.''

Minerva furrowed her eyebrows, mildly outraged by the allusion. ''Potter is convinced of Severus' innocence and I believe him.''

''I hold Potter in the highest regard over his unmatched service to the Wizarding World, but the facts are Snape has a Mark on his forearm,'' Kingsley stated matter-of-factly. ''As an acting Minister I can't rely solely on a boy barely of-age, even if said boy is the saviour of the Wizarding World.''

Having transported back to Hogwarts, Minerva was met with the pitiful sight that was the Castle. Spending a week within the Castle's walls made it easy to forget how badly it was destroyed during the battle, but it could not make walking down corridors any less depressing. McGonagall pointedly avoided looking at the spots where the bodies had been found as if they still were there. Currently the place was unusually full of death lingering within its walls, which was saying a lot for the Castle inhabited by ghosts and murderous creatures like the Basilisk.

---

Now that Severus was slowly beginning to accept his survival as a fact, he was getting restless. Lying in a bed was plain boring and a waste of time in Severus' book, but if Poppy caught even a slightest hint of him trying to get up, she rushed to rebuke him. She once even threatened to tie him up to the bed if he kept trying to leave it. He started wondering if she wasn't by chance Nagini in Poppy's skin – if not for his mastery of Occlumency and control of his emotions, her gaze would have sent a shiver down his spine.

Unfortunately, aside from stopping Severus from doing anything more constructive than staying in the bed, she had done nothing to dispel his questions regarding the state of Wizarding World following Dark Lord's fall. Not that Severus had asked her directly – her demeanour discouraged him from doing so. Moreover, the patients that were awake were giving him strange looks as well. He opted to ignore them – were they cursing him for betraying Dumbledore, he'd know how to respond, but no one even yelled at him. Severus wasn't sure what to make of this. He felt as if he had awoken not a week but years after the battle.

The door to the Hospital Wing swung open and Minerva McGonagall walked in. Severus looked at her and their eyes met. She came to him, he was sure of that. He prayed she would yell at him, call him a traitor, do something that made sense as opposed to Poppy's warm reception and his co-patients curious, yet rather welcoming looks. He slowly sat up with a silent hiss, preparing for a conversation that had been long due.

McGonagall took a chair and put it beside Severus' bed. She had eyebags under her eyes and ex-Potions teacher wondered if she had got any sleep at all during this week. Two teachers stared at each other maybe for a minute, neither sure what to say.

McGonagall broke the silence by clearing her throat. ''How are you feeling, Severus?''

Minerva was surprisingly civil, Snape mused. ''Acceptable,'' he replied shortly, ignoring the pain in his neck. ''And how are you doing, Minerva?''

''Likewise. I have just returned from the Minister's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt has been assigned an acting Minister for Magic,'' Minerva folded her hands on her thighs.

Severus arched an eyebrow. ''I take it that Thicknesse is dead, then?''

''Yes, he died in the explosion that destroyed one of the Castle's walls. Even if he had survived, I'm sure he would not continue his work as the Minister.''

Snape grimaced at the mention of the explosion. How it managed to topple a wall of Hogwarts? ''I imagine. He was Imperiused.''

McGonagall looked him right in his eyes, a shadow of hesitation passing through her own. ''Severus, I wanted to apologise,'' she maintained eye contact as she spoke, being a brave Gryffindor that she was.

Snape scoffed and turned his face away, wondering if by chance Transfiguration teacher hadn't been Imperiused as well. ''There's nothing to apologise for, Minerva,'' he looked at her again.

''No,'' McGonagall stated firmly in a voice that informed she would not accept any objections. ''That is not true. I want you to know I regret calling you a coward and I don't think you are one. That was unfair of me.''

Severus looked warily at his colleague. ''And what makes you say that?'' he challenged. ''Poppy has informed me of Light's side victory. I am a Death Eater. Surely I don't deserve such a kind treatment.''

Minerva looked at him as if he had offended her intellect. ''Sweet Merlin! Why are you so stubborn? It is over, Severus! You don't have to hide anymore. Potter told us everything. Of your role in Albus' plan.''

Snape's nostrils flared. Leave an imporant piece of information to that idiotic Gryffindor and he'll happily blabber it all away on his merry road to death. ''What a reliable source of information.''

''Yes, Potter is fully convinced you were on our side all this time and planned with Albus' his demise behind our backs. Now, if you stopped playing that game? You don't have to be a spy anymore,'' she pressed.

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. Potter 'is'? Isn't he dead? Wasn't Albus vocal enough that the boy had to die? he thought. ''This doesn't change anything, Minerva,'' he said instead. ''I killed Albus, it doesn't matter if it was on Albus' request, Dark Lord's request or both. I am a murderer and a Death Eater.''

''You foolish Slytherin!'' Minerva grabbed his wrist. ''It changes everything. Albus was already dying and chose to spare young Malfoy from becoming a murderer. I don't approve the choice he made, but it was a tough decision with no right options. It's true you may have been a Death Eater once, but I know you have changed and that took the real courage,'' she released his wirst. ''Hadn't I known better, I'd think you were one of my Gryffindors,'' a barely noticeable spark of mirth appeared behind her glasses.

''I have to kindly disagree. Running right into danger is not exactly my trait,'' his voice was laced with sarcasm.

McGonagall scoffed. ''As if you weren't doing exactly that for the last few years.''

''Running right into danger without a thought out plan is not exactly my trait,'' Severus amended. ''We Slytherins value wit and I'm sorry to say that, but your Gryffindors seem to lack the forethought.''

Minerva sighed deeply. ''I don't understand why Albus hasn't confined in me. I could have helped you both.''

''Albus wasn't the one to easily share his secrets. He kept me in the dark on numerous aspects of his grand plan. I have also heard Potter whining about Dumbledore not wanting to explain the details of the Order's functioning. Don't feel bad about Albus not telling you of him dying – I don't think there was a single person whom Albus fully trusted.''

McGonagall shook her head. ''Regardless, I was his deputy! I could have helped you communicate with the Order following Albus' death!''

''Your anger had to be genuine, Minerva,'' Severus spoke firmly.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. ''To call you all those awful things? To chase you away? To hate you when you were in the fact helping us?'' her voice, initially flaming with anger at the injustice was wavering with each following sentence.

''Yes,'' Snape coldly stared his colleague right into eyes. ''I don't hold grudge over what had transpired. You had your role to play, I had mine. Ultimately, we were all but a mere pawns in the game of two great wizards,'' he reasoned.

''No,'' the lioness of Gryffindor said. ''You were not some kind of disposable pawn to be cast aside upon the end of the game.''

Snape grimaced at her words. What he was if not exactly that? ''And what of Potter?'' he changed subject. ''Dumbledore informed me he had to die by Dark Lord's hand, so that Dark Lord could have been defeated.''

''He what?!'' Minerva now resembled a mother bear. ''He sent the boy to die?'' Severus nodded in reply and McGonagall seemed to be at loss of words to describe her outrage. ''That- Oh, if I got my hands on him! My Gryffindor? For what? Greater good?! Ah, I thought Skeeter made up Albus' friendship with Grindelwald. Well, I was wrong! That coward! Sure! Go and die! Burden others with your duties! Send a boy to death, turn your colleague into murderer! It's none of your business once you're dead!'' Severus watched with a great amusement his fellow teacher spit colourful exclamations at their late Headmaster and wondered if 'coward' was an ultimate insult in Minerva's book.

Frankly, Minerva found herself wishing even more for the late Headmaster to be here. Not to provide company and assistance, though. She wanted to tell him off for keeping her in the dark and for that cruel plan of his. Arguing with the painting could not substitute a confrontation with the real person. Alas, Dumbledore was gone, but now McGonagall pitied his murderer more than the victim. ''Ah, but that explains a lot,'' she calmed down a bit. ''When Hagrid brought Harry, we all thought he was dead, Voldemort included.''

''But he wasn't?'' Severus arched an eyebrow and Minerva told him of the final duel between Harry and Voldemort. ''Potter is still alive?'' he asked carefully and Minerva confirmed. Truly, The-Boy-Who-Lived , Severus scoffed. At least it meant Severus hadn't failed Lily once again and he found some consolation in that thought.

''Just before the duel he told Voldemort of your true loyalties. He was sure you were dead, so was Voldemort,'' Minerva's eyes welled with tears. ''I was too, when I found you... I have no idea how you managed to survive, but please know that all teachers are grateful that you are still with us. We have lost enough decent people as it is, I would have hated to lose you as well.''

Severus felt out of place like the words weren't meant for him to hear. Tearful Minerva was a rare sight on its own, somebody showing him compassion even more so. ''I am glad as well to see you have managed to survive this chaos, Minerva,'' he assured matter-of-factly, not used to offering a consolation or thanking anyone.

Chapter Text

After five days since his awakening Poppy finally let Severus leave the Hospital Wing on the condition he returned for daily check-ups. He accepted the offer, being in no position to negotiate with the woman. It was certainly a less boring occupation than lying in a bed, after all.

Wearing his usual black robes Severus felt less out of place than wearing a hospital gown. Even though the pain still prevented him from keeping his standard pace, Snape managed to feign an indimidating posture. The way the few students who were still staying in the castle ducked their heads at his sight, made him internally smirk. The awe he saw in their eyes was bordering on the modern and the archaic meaning of the word. It didn't escape his notice the way they curiously eyed the bandages around his neck, when the young idiots thought they were away enough to avoid their teacher's keen eyes. If his survival made him strike even more terror in those brats, he was not going to complain.

And it wasn't only students that looked at ex-Death Eater with a mix of admiration and anxiety. Whenever Filch spotted Snape passing by, he looked like he was trying to disappear into thin air, preferably somewhere out of Snape's sight.

One of the first things he checked were his memories. Unfortunately, they went missing from the Pensieve. Trust anything important to that brat and he'll surely lose it. Oh, Potter had better returned them to their righful owner or he would regret it. Albus Dumbledore smiling at him and expressing his happiness at Severus' survival did not improve his mood by any measure. Snape wished to tear that painting not to see the face of the former headmaster anymore.

What peeved Severus the most was in the fact not Peeves, with whose antics the teacher was too familiar by now, so Peeves' accusations of Severus having sold his soul to the Dark Lord in exchange for his life only made Severus threateningly arch his eyebrow at the Poltergeist. No, what irritated Severus the most were his colleagues.

When Severus entered Potions Master's office, Horace welcomed him jovially. Too jovially in Severus' opinion.

''Oh, Severus, you are the prime example of what I've been preaching all my life!'' Slughorn rubbed his hands, unable to contain his happiness. ''Slytherins are not destined to take the path of evil. Cunning is not a sin, after all, am I right, my boy? Have a sit! Ah, maybe it's a faux pas to offer you a sit? I'm not sure anymore whose office it is!'' he laughed. ''Minerva told me you officially resigned from the Headmaster's position?''

Severus nodded and replied shortly, not wanting to take part in Horace' buffonery. ''That is correct.''

''So you will be taking Potions Master's position once more? Ah, that would be splendid! Merlin knows I deserve to return to my retirement!'' Snape was about to reply, but Slughorn raised his hand, stopping Severus. ''Wait a moment, I should still have that bottle of prime red wine, brought by one my students. She used to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement... I don't know what happened to her in the recent events...'' Slughorn trailed away. ''Anyway, we should have a drink to celebrate the victory over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, earnt also by the efforts of the house of Slytherin. Yes,'' he nodded to himself. ''What Poppy doesn't see, won't hurt her,'' Horace said from the backroom.

''Thank you for your kind offer, Horace,'' Severus spoke drily. ''However, I didn't come here to fraternise. I'm afraid Poppy is running out of Blood-Replenishing potion.''

Horace returned from the backroom empty-handed. ''Why haven't you told me right away? Your dedication is most admirable, but there is no need for you to waste your energy on the task. I am a skilled Potioneer myself, Severus. You should rest, you are still healing, for Merlin's sake!'' he looked pointedly at bandages on Snape's neck.

''For people as familiar with the subtle art of brewing Potions as we are, blood-replenisher does not require much effort, wouldn't you agree?'' Snape reasoned calmly. ''I'm sure Poppy will be thankful to receive a double batch.''

Smile melted away from Slughorn's face. ''And I am sure, Severus, Poppy won't tolerate you doing Merlin-knows-what instead of recovering. Sweet Slytherin, you've always been as stubborn as a hippogriff!'' And with that Severus was asked to leave the office.

The treatment he received from Slughorn wasn't an exeption. Even though Flitwick was quick to give Severus his thanks for protecting students and declared his admiration for the younger professor's bravery and profiniency in magic, he wouldn't hear a word of Severus helping him with fixing the castle and the wards as if Severus were in no shape for such tasks. Weren't Severus such a cold cynic, maybe he would have found his colleagues' concerns touching.

Hagrid had wet Snape's robes with his tears of a size of a tennis ball, crying ''I knew Dumbledore wouldn' trusted yer if yer weren' on our side, locking Snape in a hug he couldn't free himself from, crossing all of Snape's boundaries. Resigned, Snape waited for Hagrid to release him, having long accepted that the half-giant wasn't too familiar with the subtlety of socialising.

The only ones of the school staff that were rather wary of the story of Snape's role in the war were Sybill Trelawney and Pomona Sprout. Severus was relieved that at least two professors questioned Potter's testimony. He would have lost his sanity if Sybill changed her views of him. After all her dislike towards him was well-earnt and Severus also wished he had not overheard that damned prophecy.

On the eight day Minerva summoned him to her office. ''Animagus,'' he said and the gargoyle stepped aside. He thought of all those years of speaking names of various kinds of candies to enter the office. Albus Dumbledore as surely as a mastermind, was also a madman and if anything proved that it had been the decades of candy-themed passwords.

He sneered at the sight of said man's portrait smiling at him brightly. The audacity.

It didn't escape McGonagalls attention as he spoke to the portrait. ''Albus, if you were so kind and left us alone for a moment?''

''Naturally, Minerva. If you need me, you only need to call'' painted Dumbledore smiled kindly and left the frames of the portrait out of professors' sight.

''Thank you, Minerva,'' Severus slightly bowed his head. ''I've got nothing to say to him, even if he's a portrait.''

McGonagall looked as if she was about to rebuke him, but changed her mind. She wasn't going to excuse Albus' poor decisions.

''Do me a favour, Minerva, by not hanging my portrait when I finally leave this pitiful rock floating in the space.'' The past headmasters looked at him judgingly.

''Severus, there's no need to be this blunt!'' said Minerva.

''As a former headmaster, it is your duty to support next headmasters with your knowledge. Your portrait will hang here when your time comes, Snape,'' Phineas Nigellus Black spoke harshly, accepting no objections. Other headmasters nodded in agreement.

''I believe we will have countless opportunities to discuss this matter, Severus. I don't expect you to leave this, as you were kind enough to call it, pitiful rock floating in the space any time soon,'' she eyed him strictly.

Snape feigned a mask of indifference. ''I've heard the life expectancy in Azkaban is not too long.''

McGonagall intertwined her fingers and placed her hands on her desk in a business-like manner. ''I am glad you tackled this subject as I wanted to discuss it with you. I have met with the Minister today. He let me take you under my custody until the day of trial on the condition that you will not leave the castle. You are a reasonable man, so I believe there should be no issues with that provision. Besides,'' she added with a spark of amusement glistening behind her glasses. ''I don't think Poppy would let you out. I've heard you were offering your help to Horace and Filius. You'd better hope she doesn't find out.'' Minerva leant against the back of her chair. ''Now, on the more serious tone, I have to back our Matron up – for goodness' sake, Severus! Your top priority should be recovery. Do not overexert yourself.''

''And how,'' Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. ''would I overexert myself by brewing simple potions and casting simple spells?''

''Don't be childish, Severus, you know what I mean. Moreover, I am certain you are going to be found not guilty. I expect you to outlife me, I am clear?'' the Headmister gave him the look she gave her students when she told them they could do better in their exams.

---

Why it had to be Snape? Why not Fred or Tonks or Lupin? Harry was disgusted by his own thoughts, but was he to blame he wished his friends survived instead of his beloathed teacher? Yes, his opinion of the Potions Master had changed drastically and he should be glad he had been wrong about Snape's demise. While the feeling of hate and disgust had been replaced with admiration and gratefulness, the fear remained.

Harry did not wish to meet Snape again any time soon. Preferably never. Still, there were things that were begging for closure. If anyone deserved to learn the truth of Voldemort's horcruxes, it was Snape who had been cruelly asked to share the most important piece in the puzzle of defeating Voldemort, while not being aware why he'd had to tell Harry to die. That, and the memories, which Harry had had safely bottled (with a great help from Hermione) to prevent anyone from watching them.

Week after the battle the news of Snape's awakening reached him. The meeting wasn't a pressing matter, he told himself. There were more important things to look after – offering the little comfort he could to Ginny and the rest of the Weasley clan. Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure if he could do anything to ease their pain. Probably not, especially not George's.

Fred had had a beautiful funeral. He would have loved it. It had been personally overlooked by George, who had made sure there were stupid jokes in the eulogy and assured the most improper use of his and Fred's products (which Mrs. Weasley found outraging and absolutely out of place) that made quite a few attendants laugh.

Tonks and Lupin's funeral had been less spectacular and probably even more saddening. It was true that Fred had had a whole life ahead of him, but somehow the ceremony had had compensated for it in some way. Maybe Harry had been sorrowed by the couple's funeral on the Teddy's account? Harry knew how it was to be an orphan that never had a chance to meet their parents. At least Andromeda wasn't aunt Petunia.

During the breakfast on the fourteenth day after the battle Hermione announced she was going to Australia to lift the enchantment from her parents. Harry supposed her prolonged stay at the Burrow had similar justification as his. He hoped Ron wasn't going to be mad at Hermione for leaving. He'd had enough of their quarrels in the recent months.

''My dear,'' Mrs. Weasley placed a pot of bright purple juice on the middle fo the table. Harry guessed it was made of some kind of magical plant he wasn't familiar with yet. ''Do you think it's reasonable to go there all alone so shortly after the battle? Death Eaters are still on the loose!''

''Molly, darling,'' Mr. Weasley folded a newspaper in half. ''Hermione is an adult witch. If she wishes so, she can go anywhere on her own,'' he reasoned in calm, rather bored voice. He clearly had been through this kind of discourse with his wife before.

''I'll go with you,'' Ron surprised everyone by his offer.

''Ron!'' Hermione exclaimed, visibly pleased. ''You really don't have to,'' she added eyeing Mrs. Weasley, fearful of enraging the woman.

Molly Weasley held her clenched fists on her hips and looked angrily at her youngest son. ''Ronald Weasley, you are not going anywhere!''

''Molly, darling,'' Mr. Weasley picked up his newspaper again and hid behind it. ''Ronald is an adult wizard. If he wishes so, he can go anywhere on his own.''

''Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley yelled at her husband.

''Hermione, do you really think it is a good idea to travel to the other side of the world on your own?'' Ron pointedly ignored his mother.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. ''Do you think I won't manage on my own? Just you wait!'' she dared him.

''Mione, you know it's not what I meant,'' Ron rolled his eyes.

''Oh, our little Ronny is going to go into the broad world?'' snorted George, but it was as clear as day he was unconsciously waiting for Fred's addition to his mean comment.

And so it went for the next half an hour. As much as it made Harry nostalgic for the easier times before the second wizarding war, just as quickly the quarrel tired Harry.

As the days passed by, Harry found less and less reasons not to go the Hogwarts, especially after Hermione and Ron went to Australia (despite Mrs. Weasley's protests). Harry didn't join his friends – he'd had enough travelling for the next few years. Besides, he did not want to leave Ginny's side for any longer than it was necessary. He was sure Hermione and Ron would manage just fine on their own.

On the eighteenth day Harry ran out of excuses. He grabbed the bottle with Snape's memories and stashed it in his pocket. He went to Ginny's room and told her of his plan to talk to Snape. His girlfriend wished him good luck, jokingly adding to beware any potions that Snape could be offering him. Having found Mrs. Weasley, he informed her he was going to Hogwarts and he would be returning for dinner. The matriarch of the Weasley only warned him not to be late. Then Harry Apparated from the Burrow's backyard to the closest proximity to the castle he could've Apparated.

The sight of the castle awakened in Harry many emotions: nostalgia, sorrow, anger. Hogwarts had been his home for the last six years, or seven if he was counting his escapade. The young wizard chose the longer route so that he would not have to pass by Hagrid's hut. He knew once the half-giant spotted him, Harry could forget about returning on time for dinner.

He headed for the Hospital Wing. Unfortunately he did not have enough luck to avoid Peeves and his mockery. Harry silently gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the Poltergeist. Having reached the door to the Hospital Wing, Harry stopped and took a deep breath, thinking once again of the things he was going to say to his teacher. Finally, he pushed the door and scoped the room for the former Death Eater. Harry felt utterly stupid realising Snape wasn't there and instead many pairs of curious patients looked at him.

''Harry!'' Neville greeted him and nearly knocked over an empty glass he was picking from a bed table.

''Neville!'' Harry smiled at the sight of his friend. ''What are you doing here?''

Neville quickly grabbed the glass and laughed nervously. ''I'm helping Madam Pomfrey with the wounded.''

''That's-'' Harry wondered what he should say. ''That's great to hear, um,'' he nodded and hid his hands in the pockets of his trousers. People were admiring him for saving the bloody wizarding world when it were people like Neville who deserved to the appreciation. ''I won't be holding you up. Talk to you later, alright?''

''Sure!'' Neville agreed. ''Oh, Harry!'' he called like he used to when he recalled something. Harry turned around. ''The password is 'Mandrake'.''

''Thanks, Neville!'' Harry waved and left the Hospital Wing. He didn't know if his friend had meant the password to the Gryffindor common room or the headmaster's (or rather headmistress', he reminded himself) office. Not that he particularly cared. If Snape wasn't in the Hospital Wing, he was most likely in the Potions Master's office.

This lead turned out to be a dead end as well. When he walked in, he was met by the plump elderly Potions Master. Damn it, he really should have knocked.

''Harry, my boy!'' Slughorn welcomed him joyously. ''What brings you here? Came to visit your elderly, professor, have you?''

Harry fidgeted nervously with his fingers. ''Um, I-'' he hesitated. ''I'm sorry, professor, for not bringing any sweets with me. Truth be told,'' Harry lied ''I was thinking of getting you a crystallised pineapple, but it was nowhere to be found in Hogsmeade.'' The boy was rather convinced the man would not buy his story. Snape certainly wouldn't have. The young man had no idea why the Sorting Hat pondered on sorting him into Slytherin – Harry had none of typical Slytherin cunning and he was a terrible liar. At times like these he truly wished he had some more Slytherin traits. It would have made making excuses so much simpler.

The elderly wizard chuckled light-heartedly. ''I appreciate the thought, dear boy. It haven't been even three weeks since the battle. I am truly astonished that any shops are running at all! I suppose I'll have to live without pineapples for a little while longer. Ah, but enough talking about me. How have you been?''

Harry glanced at the armchair on the opposite of the professor's armchair. He knew the man expected him to sit down and have a chat. The elderly snake hasn't lost the hope of 'collecting' Harry, apparently. Harry, however, did not want to play that game – he came here with a clear mission. ''Uh, fine, I suppose. I mean, as fine as I could possibly be in these circumstances,'' he quickly amended himself.

Slughorn nodded solemnly. ''Yes, many of your schoolmates have lost their lives protecting the castle. It is always a great tragedy when such a young person is gone. Such a tragedy,'' he sighed.

Harry's only reply was silence. He felt words would be sacrilegious towards Fred, Tonks and Lupin's sacrifice. The two stayed in an awkward silence for next few moments, the only sound being the rhythmical ticking of a clock.

Slughorn was first to break the silence. ''And how are your friends?'' he cleared his throat.

''They are...'' Harry looked at the jars on the shelves, trying to think of a way to stop the conversation in the most civil way possible. ''Recuparating. So, are you going to remain at Hogwarts, professor?'' he changed the subject.

''I hope I won't,'' the plump wizard chuckled. ''Not because I don't enjoy teaching new generations of wizards, no. I just want to return to my retirement. Hogwarts deserves someone with more vitality than me. Actually, I've talked to Severus and it would appear he will be returning as Potions Master. With him as my successor once again, I can retire with my mind put at ease.''

''I thought professor Snape preferred the post of DADA teacher?'' Harry mouth were quicker to speak than his mind to filter his words.

Slughorn shrugged. ''We'll see. No doubt he is one of the most skilled wizards in both branches.''

''Um, so where can I find him?'' Harry cringed at his not-so-subtle reveal of his true intentions, but he couldn't let Slughorn keep engaging him in the conversation.

''Severus?'' Slughorn drummed his plump short fingers against his belly. ''I would expect him to be in the storeroom. He is barely out of the Hospital Wing, yet he still persist of assisting me in brewing potions for Poppy!'' the man said somewhat agitated. ''His stubborness will be his own doom one day,'' he sighed resigned.

''Yes, I'd better let him know,'' Harry said meekly and excused himself hoping for the third time being a charm, as muggles said.

This time Harry stopped to knock on the door. ''Come in,'' answered the silky voice Harry had known for seven years. They boy swallowed the lump forming in his throat and entered.

Snape put back some yellowish potion on the shelf, stepped down from a ladder, turned around and eyed his pupil sceptically. If the visit surprised him, he made no show of it. ''Potter,'' he greeted him rather harshly.

Harry had prepared for this moment. He had listed the things he wanted to say to his teacher: that he was grateful for his loyalty, that he admired it, that he was sorry for the awful things he'd said about him. Now that two black irises were piercing him, the carefully prepared words fled like spiders from a darkest corner of a room upon casting Lumos. His own gaze fell on the scar peeking out from Snape's collar. It was mostly covered by the fabric, but from what Harry was able to see, it didn't heal nicely. The skin was pinkish-red and wrinkled and jagged where it met healthy tissue.

''Are you quite done with staring at me?'' Snape asked impatiently.

''Um, sorry, sir, I-'' Harry desperately tried to catch a coherent thought. ''I brought your memories,'' he reached into his pocket and with a stiff movement showed the man the bottle with the silvery substance.

''I have been wondering where have they gone. I am glad to find out they haven't found their way into wrong hands,'' Snape said flatly, which contrasted with the sharp movement with that he took the bottle from Harry.

Harry's instinct was yelling at him to run away from the man, to leave before he enraged him as he always sooner or later had done. ''And I'm sorry for calling you a coward,'' his quickened pace of speech revealed his anxiety, but Harry felt he needed to keep talking to repel the thoughts that told him to get out.

There was a flash of something, Harry wasn't exactly sure what, in Snape's eyes, but it disappeared in the darkness of his eyes after mere miliseconds. ''I actually think that what you've been doing for all these years was one of the bravests things I have seen.'' After a moment of hesitation Harry added ''Sir.''

''I am so flattered to hear it from the saviour of the wizardkind,'' sarcasm in Snape's voice wasn't lost on Harry.

''Uh, professor Slughorn said you would be retaking the post of the Potions Master,'' was the thought that floated at the surface of the muddle in Harry's head.

Snape crossed his arms. ''No.''

''No? Professor Slughorn-''

Snape furrowed his eyebrows making his irritation visible. ''Professor Slughorn hears what he wants to hear. I won't be taking the post of Potions Master. Nor I intend to return to teaching DADA,'' he added when he noticed Harry opened his mouth. ''I am done with teaching you brats. Disappointed, Potter?'' he said mockingly.

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. ''So what are going to do, sir?'' He was well aware Snape hadn't wanted to become a teacher, but he had been forced by Dumbledore and circumstances. War had ended, Dumbledore was gone – Snape was now a free man. Still, Harry could not think of any other occupation that the spy could be holding.

Much to Harry's surprise Snape seemed to be startled by the question and his face have softened a little. Or maybe Harry was just imagining things. ''Providing that I am not locked up in Azkaban?'' his voice was daring, challenging Harry to say something he would regret later as he'd usually had when talking to his Potions teacher.

''I am sure the Wizengamot will clear you of charges, sir,'' Harry said firmly. The knowledge of Snape's loyalties just made the mere thought of the man being thrown to the prison utterly ridiculous and unjust. It was like somebody tried to tell him that two plus two equals five. Harry didn't know why the Wizengamot would share his unwavering conviction of Snape's innocence. He just was sure of it, almost childishly. Any other outcome would be simply, for a lack of better word, stupid and wrong.

Snape, however, did not share his pupil's conviction. ''And what makes you think they are going to? Haven't they wrongfully sentenced that mutt of your godfather?''

Harry clenched his fists and his body instinctively tensed. ''Do not call that Sirius! He fought and died for the cause!'' Snape was a hero, but so had been Sirius and Harry wouldn't let anyone offend his late godfather. Snape's dedication gave him no right to call Sirius names.

''As true as it is, it does not change my view of Black,'' Snape replied unfazed. ''Regardless, that is irrelevant now. What I simply tried to say is that the Wizengamot had sentenced wizards with less deeds on their conscience than myself. After all,'' Snape put his hands behind his back. ''I have killed Dumbledore, which you cannot deny. You were there, Potter,'' Snape arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

''I will go and ask the Wizengamot to let me be a witness at your trial. You are right – I was there and I saw it, so it would be illogical not to let me speak. I will testify in your favour, professor,'' Harry offered from the depths of his heart. If he could save the man from the dire fate of Azkaban, he had to do it.

''I am a Death Eater. It is a common knowledge. So tell me, Potter, why would the Wizengamot find me not guilty?'' he requested harshly.

''Well,'' strangely enough, Harry felt as if he was taking an exam as his palms were geating sweaty. ''You've changed your ways. You were taking Dumbledore's orders, including the one to...'' Harry hesistated, memory of Dumbledore begging Snape flashing before his eyes. ''To kill him. You did this to save Draco, that's what Dumbledore wanted.''

Ugly smirk of triumpf found its way to Snape's face. ''That is what you saw in my memories, obviously. However, you seem to be forgetting, Potter, that I am a skilled Leglimens and Occlumens. Do you have any proof I had not altered them?''

Harry grimaced in confusion. Why was the man trying to put the blame on himself? Harry didn't know what to say. Snape's memories had had no distortions unlike Slughorn's fake memory. But hadn't Dumbledore said it was the result of unskillful alteration? Snape surely wouldn't have modified memories in such a crude way. Maybe Harry should have studied the subject of memory alteration? Maybe Hermione knew something about it?

''More importantly, why would you defend me?'' Snape went on. ''It is I who had relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord. I am the reason your parents are dead,'' the bluntness of the statement, even though the man was objectively speaking the truth, struck Harry.

''But as soon as you realised your mistake you tried to prevent it,'' Harry protested. ''I won't deny you are to blame for my parents' death. But so is professor Dumbledore for not granting them better protection, Sirius for suggesting Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper and most importantly Pettigrew for betraying my parents.''

Snape narrowed his eyes. ''Interesting perspective, Potter. Your foolish Gryffindor need to save everyone and everything is truly touching,'' he said sourly. ''Though it does not come as a surprise.''

''Oh!'' Harry exclaimed, which gained him a disapproving look from the older wizard, suddenly recalling one of the things he wanted to say but had forgotten due to the stress of talking to his least favourite teacher. ''Speaking of professor Dumbledore, I think you should know why he had requested you to pass the message.'' And Harry told the spy of Voldemort's horcruxes and that the warlock had accidentally turned Harry into one. He also explained why he had needed Gryffindor's sword, not too eloquently thanking the man for having led him to the sword. To Harry's surprise it appeared that Snape listened to Harry's story with an unfeigned curiosity.

''It seems you have rightfully earnt the name of The-Boy-Who-Lived, having survived the killing curse not once but twice. Well done, Mr. Potter. There is probably no point in asking how you managed to survive the second time,'' Snape ironised. ''So, the war has ended and you saved the world as you were expected. What now? As far as I am concerned there is no prophecy of what the Dark Lord's bane is going to do following his victory. No clear path set forth or foretold destiny. Having fought and witnessed deaths of your friends, do you still hope to join the Aurors ranks?''

Harry shrugged. ''Well, yes, I want to become an Auror.'' The question seemed ridiculous to Harry – what else was he going to excel at? Herbology?

''If I were you, Potter,'' Snape eyed the younger wizard scrutiningly. ''I would have had enough of fighting warlocks for the rest of my life. I can only hope that the newly appointed Minister of Magic will not go easy on the famed saviour of the wizardkind. Wouldn't it be a shame it something happened to The-Boy-Who-Lived due to the decreased standards of Auror training?'' he mocked. ''Unless you have enough brains to decide to complete your education?'' he quirked an eyebrow.

Harry hasn't given much thought to the idea, frankly. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts for good just yet, it was his home, but who could assure him the school would be opened for students? On the other hand, it was as clear as day Hermione was going to take her seventh year and N.E.W.T.s and if Hermione returned to Hogwarts, so would Ron. Not that Ron would have much to say in the matter – joined forces of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione would not rest until Ron finished his education with several N.E.W.T.s in his CV. Ginny was going to start her seventh grade, which meant they were going to have classes together. ''I guess so,'' he said noncommittally, swaying from left foot to right and again to left. Standing in the not so spacious storageroom tired Harry's feet a little.

''Wise decision. Ah, but that's probably Ms. Granger's influence. She's always been the brains of your merry ragamuffin group. Nevertheless, I must thank Merlin that I'm not going to be your teacher anymore,'' Snape huffed.

Truth be told, Harry was thanking Merlin for Snape not returning to his original post as well, but it posed new issues. Harry has always been a disappointment in Snape's eyes, so there was no reputation to be lost. Slughorn, on the other hand, thought the boy to be a prodigy. The elderly wizard couldn't have possibly been further away from the truth. Harry's mind led him to the memory of Snape's potions book, now lost to the world. ''You would make a decent potions book author,'' he realised. ''The ones we use are pretty aged, wouldn't you agree? Um, sir?'' he added, forcing himself into developing a habit of being polite towards his ex-teacher.

''Yes, old Borage's works tend to be rather misleading. Though, I imagine the Ministry and the school have more pressing matters to attend than an outdated students book,'' Snape said dryly. ''Furthermore, professor Slughorn is rather fond of Libatius Borage's wo- What are you doing, Potter?!'' he yelled, barring his teeth.

Harry swaying on his feet felt to right and back, brushed one of the shelves with his shoulder, tripping a bottle. The bottle filled with some translucent potion tilted dangerously, giving the boy a false of hope it would not topple, and fell upside down. Harry desperately attempted at catching it without any luck. The bottle hit the floor with a crack, spilling its contents. The young wizard cringed at the sound of shattered glass, so reminding of the times when aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had yelled at him for breaking plates. Scared of Snape's reaction, Harry crouched and started picking the broken shells of the bottle in hurry.

''Leave it!'' Snape ordered unkindly.

At the sound of his voice, Harry jumped a little and making his finger run down the sharp edge of the glass instead of picking it up. ''Ouch!'' Harry waved his finger and put it into his mouth without really thinking about it.

''Leave!''

Harry looked insecurily at the man and got up. ''I'd better go-''

''Yes, you'd better,'' Snape warned.

''Um, yes, uh, good bye,'' Harry mumbled and retreated in panic, leaving Snape once again all alone in the storageroom.

---

Snape watched the irritable spawn of Potter close the door. He looked down at the milky white substance on the floor. His first thought was to Evanesco the remains of the bottle and the liquid, but with a tired sigh he knelt by the puddle. The potion was unsalvageable, having been contamined with the boy's blood. Shame, it was a diffcult potion to brew and rather obscure due to the the policy of the Ministry. The latter was probably for the better, if only the Dark Lord had known of its use... All in all, Severus should have anticipated his supplies were to diminish once the boy had walked in. The famed Gryffindor was a walking disaster, especially around potions.

Maybe he could cast a Reparo on the bottle, he wondered inspecting the shells. After all, post-war economy never was doing good. Severus reached for one of better preserved shells of the bottle and managed to cut himself as well. He muttered a curse, in the muggle meaning of the word, that is. Then his gaze landed on the bright blue potion on the floor.

''What in the Merlin's?!'' Snape stumbled back away from the potion staring wide-eyed at it. Quickly he composed himself and the curiosity took the best of him. The man leant towards the potion and rubbed a drop of liquid between his fingers. It had the correct semi-thick texture and the delicate sweet scent as it should. Severus' expertise told him the potion wasn't faulty, even though it had to be. There was no possibility it had worked correctly. The mere thought was ridiculous! It was simply physically not possible. Damn it, he really should have Evanesco'd the potion.

Chapter Text

Snape paced through the Castle's corridors, his black robes billowing behind him. He stopped in front of the gargoyle and said ''Thestral'' in his silky voice. Minerva tried to make passwords to her office a bit more egalitarian, reaching for terms from different branches of magic. The choice of current password could have one more explanation – following the battle nearly everyone was able to see the damned beasts.

As he resurfaced from the spiral staircase, the Headmistress eyed him from her rectangual glasses. ''How can I help you, Severus?'' she asked, her voice revealing her patience running thin. Sometimes she forgot Severus wasn't her student anymore, especially when he was running around the Castle nearly begging (as much as she could imagine him doing that) anyone to give him any task. Any task that wasn't resting and recovering, that is.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''I was wondering if you could lend me a book from your office?''

''A book?'' Minerva put aside her pen and looked her colleague deeply into his eyes.

''Yes, Minerva, a book,'' Severus said flatly. ''Several titles caught my attention when I was residing here, unfortunately due to the rather obvious circumstances I was not able to find the time to indulge myself in reading. And as it appears that I'm not allowed to partake in any sort of useful activities-''

Minerva looked scoldingly at him. ''I am glad you came up with ways to entertain yourself without straining your health. Take any book you want.''

Severus nodded curtly and approached the bookshelf. He brushed his finger against the spines of books, tilting every few books a bit to get the better angle to read the title. He took a book with a burgundy spine, opened it and run his finger down the table of contents. Then he skimmed the book and with a grimace put it away. He repeated the action several times until his eyes landed on the book clad in black faded leather. His finger tapped twice against a point on the table of contents and he carefully opened the book somewhere in the middle. He closed the book with a loud clap.

''I'll be taking my leave,'' he announced and headed for the staircase.

Minerva glanced at the book with a spark of recognition in her eyes. ''Isn't that the book that Ms. Granger brought me after the battle? Poor girl was so ashamed of taking it away that she kept assuring me the book was perfectly intact!'' the elderly witch chuckled kindly. ''I swear to Merlin she cares too deeply about rules even in the most grim times, as if she would be sentenced to Azkaban even for the slightest mishap,'' she shook her head.

Severus rested the book against his chest. ''I suppose I am lucky that Ms. Granger was so dutiful even in the most grim times,'' he grimaced.

Minerva got up and walked towards her colleague with a shadow of worry passing through her face. ''Oh, Severus, I did not meant to- Everything is going to be alright. I am certain you are going to be acquitted of all charges,'' she said apologetically. ''We all are supporting you, I hope you know.''

The 'all' however wasn't so certain, judging by the noise of hushed voices of ex-headmasters – some of them approving, some of them quite the opposite. Both teachers pointedly ignored it.

''Yes, it is quite difficult to forget as everyone keeps reminding me that. Even that brat Potter,'' he scoffed.

''Murderer!'' finally shouted one of the portraits.

''Maturus, Severus was simply following my orders, proving himself to be one of my most loyal companions,'' Albus of portrait explained calmly but firmly.

''He murdered the Headmaster in cold blood! If he truly were loyal, he would have refused to execute your order. Staining one's hands if unworthy of teacher of this noble school, let alone its headmaster!'' Maturus shouted.

''We have already established I had been a dying man with not much more life left in me. Severus had been simply doing me a favour, having spared me suffering and embarrassment,'' Dumbledore's portrait would accept no opposition.

''Well, Minerva,'' Severus seemed to be absolutely unfazed by the discussion. ''I would appear that not everyone shares your views in regard to my role in Hogwarts being taken over by Death Eaters.''

Having excused himself from the Headmistress office, Severus returned to his chamber. The place had one advantage over Potions Master's office – it was void of Horace Slughorn.

Severus sat down and opened the book on the chapter dedicated to horcruxes. Having not found a book on horcruxes in the library, he figured out it must have been in Headmistress office. The story told by Potter fascinated him. How broken and twisted a person had to be to accidently split their soul and not notice that? Naturally, Severus was aware how cruel and manic Dark Lord had been. He had seen it with his own eyes many times. He had felt it on his own skin many times. He wished he could say he didn't know why he had joined Death Eaters in the first place, but that would be a lie. Severus was a good liar, but he was not going to lie to himself.

Well, frankly, maybe the last one was a lie, after all.

The staff noticed Snape was slightly uneasy lately and assumed, rather logically, that he was worried about the impending trial, so they were quick to reassure him of their unwavering support. Severus somewhat appreciated the concern, even though he found it annoying. However, his colleagues couldn't have been more mistaken – Severus was rather indifferent to the matter of his trial. Obviously he did not want to find himself imprisoned in Azkaban, but he wasn't going to pretend he hadn't been a Death Eater or that he hadn't killed Dumbledore. Whatever the sentence was going to be, he was going to accept it without any objections, just like he had accepted that he was most likely going to die in the war.

There was another matter on Severus' mind. Ever since his last encounter with the walking disaster The-Boy-Who-Lived was, he was desperately trying not to think of what he had seen on the floor of the storageroom. The problem was, the more he tried not to think about it, the more he did.

It's absurd, he thought trying to focus on the book. The potion must have been faulty from the start.

I was not, another, more cold and down-to-earth though appeared.

It had to be – I have never slept with Lily, argued the first thought.

The fact that you do not remember it does not necessarily imply it has never happened, reasoned the second thought.

Why would she want to have to do anything with me? We have never talked again after the fifth year.

What if you were Obliviated? suggested the second voice. Severus loudly snorted at the stupidity of his own suggestion.

The boy looks like a copy of James Potter with Lily's eyes, reminded first thought.

The eyes see what they want to see. Didn't you want to see your old enemy in the boy? It was easier to hate him than hate yourself even more.

I could not have possibly hated myself even more, the first thought scoffed.

Exactly, the second voice was harsh.

Severus angrily furrowed his eyebrows and returned to the book. Maybe his colleagues were right after all – maybe he was simply looking for nonexistent problems so that he would not be thinking about the incoming trial.

---

On the twentienth-third day after the battle Hermione and Ron returned to the Burrow from their trip to Australia. Ron was shocked by what he had seen on the other continent (especially kangaroos and platypuses), earning him giggles from Hermione and Harry. It hasn't crossed Harry's mind that Ron had never seen animals like that. Even Harry had seen them, despite neglectful upbringing at the Dursleys. To him kangaroos and platypuses seemed fairy uninteresting when compared to, let's say, average blast-ended skrewt, whereas Ron appeared to be more bewildered by Australian fauna than by a dragon.

Hermione wasn't wholly satisfied with the results of her and Ron's escapade, leaving Harry worried for a good moment that the mission hadn't gone as planned.

''Oh, no, lifting the enchantment was a piece of cake!'' Hermione waved her hand sitting on Ron's bed.

Ron made a face and stopped munching shaved catterpillars. ''Maybe it went a little bit too well. Her parents were livid, let me tell, mate!''

''Hey,'' Hermione shoved her boyfriend, nearly pushing him out of his bed. ''As if your mum wasn't mad at your for running away with us, while having pretended you were sick!''

Hermione's parents couldn't do much to force their daughter to stay with them – she was an adult even by muggle standards. However, wanting to make amends Hermione decided not to stay during the summer at the Burrow.

Ron looked at her taken aback by the statement. ''But Hermione, you've just said they can't make you!''

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''I doesn't mean I won't be coming here at all. It's just... Well, I understand where their anger comes from and, frankly, I missed them. I guess I'm simply relieved to see them doing alright.''

Ron turned his face away from his friends. ''Good for you. At least your family had been spared,'' he muttered.

Hermione gasped outraged. ''Do you think I don't care about what happened to Fred? Do you really think I'm that selfish not to care about your grief? You me-''

Harry interrupted her before the argument escalated. ''When you were away I gave Snape back his memories,'' he changed the subject.

''You went to see Snape? Are you out of your mind, mate?'' Ron looked at his friend as if he had grown a second head.

''Ron!'' Hermione hissed.

''Hey, I'm still alive. In the fact, he was pretty civil,'' Harry shrugged. ''Well, until I knocked over one of his potions.''

Ron passed the bag of sweets to Harry who took one of shaved catterpillars. He rolled the candy between his fingers, suddenly overcome by nostalgia. All the sweets Ron and Harry had eaten in Hogwarts Express to Hermione's dismay... And to think the next ride on the Hogwarts Express would be the last one.

''What can I say, better avoid him in the future. You haven't really given him any reasons to stop hating you,'' Ron advised.

''Snape doesn't hate Harry!'' Hermione protested. ''He kept saving his life and even risked his own! Being a strict teacher doesn't mean hating students.''

''You wanted to say 'mean teacher','' Ron corrected.

Harry reached for another shaved catterpillar. ''Avoiding him should be easy – he is resigning from teaching.''

''Thanks Merlin!'' Ron sighed relaxed as if a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Harry picked at the ends of his shirt, unsure whether he should say what he wanted to say. ''Malfoys' trial is going to take place on the 29^th of June, Snape's is scheduled for the 6^th of July.'' Seeing that his friends weren't quite understanding what he was getting at, he went on. ''I want to testify in Snape's favour. And in Draco's too, I think. He was a victim of circumstances as much anyone else. Not so sure about his parents, though.''

''Harry, that's wonderful!'' Hermione's face lit up. ''I want to help too. It should be easier than during Buckbeak's trials as we are already adults. I'll check my notes I've made preparing for Buckbeak's trial-''

''All those horcruxes must have broken your mind. I can understand you wanting to defend Snape, even though I think it's bonkers, but Draco? Until the very end of the battle he was ready to get us killed even though we had saved his life! Give it a rest, Harry,'' Ron huffed.

The next few weeks the trio plus Ginny spent looking through the wizarding jurisprudence, studying case law and trying to get through countless acts. As usually the majority of work was done by Hermione. Harry wasn't too pleased with this, rather predictable, turn of events – he didn't want to burden Hermione, who was always too eager to dive into stacks of books, especially if it meant helping, with a task that was primarily his own. He had already asked too much of his friends. Harry took different approach from Hermione, mostly relying on his own experience with the wizarding judicial system and what he had seen in the Pensieve. And Ron... Well, it was difficult to call what Ron was doing by the name of helping. The red-haired boy joined his friend in their new-found mission only to avoid Hermione's rage and Ginny's mockery, but he didn't put his heart in it, to put it mildly.

The group had even visited the Hogwarts' library, hoping not to bump into their least favourite teacher. Helping Snape was one thing, talking to him was another, to quote Ron.

Harry was beginning to lose hope. All the reading was so confusing, with weird legal terms, rules and exceptions from rules. How could anyone call it a justice when the fate of people he was hoping to save depended on votes of Wizengamot's members? Those people knew the Malfoys and Snape, and having met the Wizengamot, Harry was certain their prejudice would speak through some of its members. How someone as vile as Umbridge could serve a just sentence? Luckily Umbridge wasn't a member of the Wizengamot anymore, but Harry had a feeling that spite and hate weren't gone from the crucial wizarding institution just because Umbridge stopped being a part of it. Hermione could come up with the most brilliant defence strategy, but it would be a waste of time if the Wizengamot would not listen. Harry wasn't sure whether they would listen. Maybe in the hearts of Wizengamot's members sentences were ready even before the hearing?

''Harry! You should look into it! The trial of Branford Donnersberg!'' Hermione exclaimed too joyously for a library.

''Who?'' Ron and Harry asked simultaneously.

Hermione laid down forcefully a bulky volume of some aged book. ''Ah, why do I even bother, of course you haven't paid any attention during the history of magic classes!''

Ginny scratched her head, trying to recall the name. ''Battle of Elkshire?'' she asked insecurily.

''Thank you, Ginny,'' she eyed boys with flames on her eyes. ''Apparently men cannot be relied upon,'' Hermione grabbed a chair and sat down next to her friends. ''Branford Donnersberg served as a spy during the war of cloaks,'' she tapped her finger against Branford's name written in the book. ''Everyone thought he had sided with Numerus the Wandless, while he worked for Titania the Lightfooted. It's nearly like Snape's case! I mean, Branford killed Titania's husband, Stratus, instead of her, but the Wizengamot ruled that he had done it on Titania and Stratus' orders to make his play more believable and found Branford not guilty. Later, he was even called a war hero!''

Harry scratched his messy hair, not bothering to ask if Numerus really had no wand and if so, why was he so terrifying, and why in order to defeat him Branford had to kill Stratus on his and Titania's orders, whoever they were.

Ron wrinkled his nose, doubt visible on the entirety of his face. ''And when that happened?''

''1537,'' Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

''Do you really think it's still a binding sentence? It's been nearly five centuries!'' Ron kept glancing once at Hermione, once at the book and again at Hermione.

''It's great, Hermione, it really is, and I don't want to discourage you, but from my experience the Wizengamot doesn't care about old sentences,'' Harry pointed out.

Hermione got up hastily and hung her bag over her shoulder. ''If you are so smart and know what the Wizengamot wants, then find it yourself!''

''Hermione, wait!'' Harry grabbed her wrist. He was beginning to think Snape hadn't questioned why he'd believed in his innocence without a reason. Snape was as cunning as a Slytherin could be – the Wizengamot was going to ask the same questions, Harry realised. ''I just need a way to prove that the memories that Snape gave me were not falsified.''

Hermione pondered for a moment. ''I don't think we can prove it without an access to Snape's memories if it can be proved at all,'' she said carefully.

''Ugh, how I'm going to convince them Snape's not guilty?!'' Harry slumped against chair's backrest, looking at the ceiling.

''Well, asking him to give them back and show them to the Wizengamot isn't an option, is it?'' Ron asked without much enthusiasm.

Ginny turned the page of the book brought by Hermione and then looked at her boyfriend. ''Harry's defeated Voldemort. He knows the best who had helped him achieve that. Why shouldn't they believe him?''

Chapter Text

Leaning over the desk in the Potions Master's office (blissfully free of Slughorn), Severus bore his eyes into the Pensieve. The Headmistress was thoughtful enough to let him borrow the basin. The last thing Severus wanted to do was analising his most crucial memories in Minerva's office right in front of the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

He has already stood there for at least an hour and half reliving his memories of Lily, painful memories he had been avoiding for years. He watched himself call his friend a mudblood. He saw her refuse to accept his apology. The awkward pretending they don't see each other when walking past each other in the corridor. Ignoring each other during joint Gryffindor-Slytherin classes. Having finished their education Lily and Severus found themselves on the opposing sides of the war, which hadn't given them many opportunities to bump into each other. The lack of any hints deeply irritated Severus. With the trial scheduled for the following day, it was likely Severus wouldn't have any chances at finding the answer to the question of Potter's spawn genealogy. Primarily, if he was Potter's spawn at all.

The wizard clenched his fists resting on the sides of the Pensieve. Severus would not have been such a valuable pawn in Dumbledore and Dark Lord's game if not for his ability to hide the truth when it was not supposed to be found out. Severus was also very knowledgeable wizard, and this time it rather posed an issue rather than an advantage. It was likely that somebody, perhaps even Severus himself, had Obliviated him and then added false memories to hide any of his relations with Lily Potter née Evans during the war. And if the witch or wizard who cast those spells was skillful enough there was a chance Severus was never going to recover the true memories.

On the other hand, there was a good possibility of no such an event having taken place and the potion had been faulty from the start. Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose with a groan. Nothing about his memories made him question their authenticity – he found no skips, no sudden repetitions, no hazy memories. Severus was too professional in that area to think it was enough to rule out the possbility of them having been artificially implemented into his mind.

In the third hour of staring into the misty substance in the basin Severus gave up. He spun his wand above the surface and from a distance it might have looked as if he were mixing basin's contents. Silvery smokeish threads gravitated towards the tip of the wand, concentrating around it. Severus in a graceful gesture raised his hand and the memories attached to the wand left the Pensieve. Then he used a wordless spell to return the memories to their rightful place in his mind.

Subsequently Severus focused on the memories he had shared with The-Boy-Who-Lived. After all Minerva lent him the Pensieve believing the wizard was going to use it to prepare for the trial. Keeping in mind Headmistress' kindness Severus would have loathed to betray her trust and arrive at the trial unprepared. Even more so as it he had a feeling she cared more if he ended up in Azkaban more than he had.

Furrowing his forehead he extracted the memories wincing in the moment when the memories left his mind and poured them into the Pensieve.

--

Testifying in the Draco's trial had been a strange experience. Even more so considering Harry had been a witness testifying in Draco's favour. The boys pretended not to see each other even though they were maybe four feet apart. If somebody had told him a year ago he was going to stand up for Malfoy, he would have thought that person had lost their mind. Harry's noble (Hermione's words) or insane (Ron's words) attempt at achieving what Dumbledore had given his life up turned out to be quite successful – Draco was sentenced to a year of house arrest. After that the blonde was going to be a free man and if he committed no crimes in the span of five years after finishing his punishment, he was going to be cleared of charges as if he had never joined Death Eaters. In the eyes of the law at least – Harry knew the Mark was never going to disappear from Draco's forearm.

Following Draco's trial Harry had a week to prepare for Snape's. Naturally Harry had begun thinking of his strategy much earlier. He asked Ginny, Ron and Hermione to testify as well since they were looking together for arguments in Snape's favour.

As much as Harry wanted to save his teacher from the horrors of Azkaban, there were people he wouldn't dare to ask for help. While Neville had spent his detention with Ginny in the Forbidden Forest instead of with the Carrows, so he could be a valuable witness, Harry didn't want to force his friend to meet with the man who was his boggart. And as far as Harry knew Neville he wasn't going to say 'no' if Harry asked him.

There was also the Weasley clan. As the members of the Order of the Phoenix, there were aspects of Snape's involvement in the war that they knew more about than Harry. The thing was, following the accidental cutting off of George's ear by the former spy, the clan, well, actually mostly Molly Weasley, was overtaken by the hatred for the man to the point that it seemed even the revelations of Snape's true loyalties weren't enough to dispel it. Harry didn't want to admit it to his girlfriend and his friend, but he was afraid the testimony of their relatives could make Snape's situation worse.

Finally the 6^th of July arrived. The group of four was aiming for dressing in their finests clothes to make the best impression on the Wizengamot. Hermione Apparated in the Burrow's backyard, where she travelled from her parents' home.

''Ronald Weasley, what have you put on?!'' she yelled upon spotting her boyfriend. Harry and Ginny looked at each other and smirked. Hermione in that moment truly reminded Mrs. Weasley.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his robes. ''What do you mean, Hermione? Bill borrowed me this robe. It's fine!''

''It's dirty and unironed,'' Hermione nagged and took out her wand, making Ron cringe as if he was expecting his girlfriend to curse him. With a flick of hand the spots from Ron's robe vanished and creases smoothed out.

Ron sighed with a silly smile on his face. ''Thanks, Hermione. What would we do without you?''

Ginny giggled. ''You'd walk like a fool in the Ministry.''

Mrs. Weasley run through the door, holding a small wooden box. ''Oh, Ginny, thanks Merlin you are still here! Hermione, it's so nice to see you!'' she smiled brightly and rushed to hug the brown-haired girl.

''Mooom,'' the two youngest Weasleys complained at the sight of Hermione patting woman's back fully aware there was no way she would be let out before the woman decided so.

Harry fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, or rather a robe borrowed from Percy. ''Uh, Mrs. Weasley, we really need to go,'' he urged warily. ''We shouldn't risk being late.''

Molly Weasley freed Hermione from her embrace. ''Oh, yes, naturally, dear. Ron, Ginny!'' she handed her daughter the box. ''Your dad has forgotten his lunch! Would you be so nice and pass it to him since you're going to the Ministry?''

Ginny nodded and took the box, not bothering to argue they might not have enough time before the trial to look for their dad.

''Best of luck,'' Mrs. Weasley tactfully avoided speaking of the reason why they were heading to the Ministry. ''And I want you to return before the dinner!''

Ron sighed with his shoulders slumping and Ginny rolled her eyes.

''We'll try, Mrs. Weasley,'' Harry nodded with a tight smile on his lips.

''Ready?'' asked Hermione and the group Apparated, leaving the woman alone in the backyard.

--

The morning was chilly for July. Minerva wrapped her tartan robe tighter around her body, the clinking of her shoes echoing down the corridors of the castle. She had expected to find Severus in the Great Hall. She only found Filius and Sybill eating their breakfast. The seer, already drunk as Minerva didn't fail to notice, informed her that ''I haven't seen that rude eavesdropper today, but I do sense great danger ahead!''. Thanking Sybill for her assistance and reminding Flitwick to arrive on time at the Ministry, Minerva headed for Severus' chamber.

She knocked on the door. Hearing no answer, she slowly walked in. The room was empty, not that she was surprised – Severus was a morning bird and probably had had his breakfast while Sybill had been busy taking care of a bottle of some beverage.

Her next stop was Potions Master's office. The fact the only person in the room was Horace Slughorn, slightly concerned the Headmistress.

''Truth be told, I haven't seen the boy today,'' retired Potioneer said. Minerva could imagine Severus' scowl upon being called 'boy'. Whether Severus liked it or not, from perspective of the oldest staff members he was nearly a child, the youngest of them. Even Albus had tended to call Severus that way when students weren't around. ''Well, but today's a big day, isn't it? He's probably preparing for the trial,'' Slughorn reasoned. ''I'd look for him either in the library or in the storageroom.''

Unfortunately Madam Pince hasn't seen the ex-Potions Master in her realm of books that day. She didn't fail to mention Severus would come to the library nearly on daily basis.

By the time she opened empty storageroom Minerva was gritting her teeth and her nostrils flared like those of chimaera's. Has Severus lost his mind? Now wasn't the time for hiding on one of numerous rooms and chambers of the castle like he had in his teenhood! Of course a chance of her colleague escaping Hogwarts in hopes of avoiding the trial hasn't crossed her mind. Never again would she accuse Severus of cowardice, but having lost at least an hour running around the castle asking everyone if they had seen Severus made her want to tell him off like some unruly student. On her way to the DADA classroom a dark spot outside the window drew her attention. She stopped to take a closer look. Next to the white tomb of Albus (how fitting his name!) stood the black-haired wizard clad in black. Minerva felt her anger evaporate as she exhaled. She blinked the tears away and walked downstairs.

From the distance Severus might have looked peaceful, but as soon as the Headmistress was within hearing distance she heard the wizard's attempts at arguing with the tomb. Rather audible attempts.

''I won't even bother asking if you ever planned to tell me Potter was a horcrux,'' Severus sneered, clenching his fists ''You old senile fool! Did you know the brat was going to return or you just placed a bet?'' With each step towards the man, the words in Minerva's ears grew louder. ''Don't you think you've asked too much of me?! First kill you, then let Dark Lord kill the boy?! Were we all pawns in your game, yourself included? Oh, how adequate to get yourself of the equation so you don't have to take the responsibility for your actions! So that you don't have to suffer from your own stupitidy,'' he huffed, still oblivious to woman's company. Minerva made no move to catch his attention. ''What would have become of Lily's legacy if the brat hadn't returned? I did this all for Lily, that was the deal,'' he spat hatefully. ''And you used me well aware you couldn't keep yours end of it. You were so full of secrets, secrets you've kept from your deputy, the Order, the brat and me, that I'm beggining to question whether you knew Potter-'' Severus quickly turned his head, finally noticing the witch.

Minerva folded her hands in front of her, a smug smirk appearing on her face. ''So that's how you've spent this lovely morning, Severus? And there I was thinking you had nothing to say to Albus,'' she raised an eyebrow.

''I am glad to see you too, Minerva,'' the wizard kept a straight face. If he was embarrassed by the emotional display, he made no show of it.

''I understand that you need someone to vent your frustration on, but you really should be preparing for the trail,'' she pointed out, briefly glancing at the white marble. She also had questions she wished Albus could give her answers to.

Severus held his hands behind his back. ''I am ready, Minerva. I do not tend to walk unprepared into a battle.''

The Headmistress was about to order him to at least eat something before the trial, but reminded herself the wizard wasn't a child. Sure, he was rather scrawny and since the battle of Hogwarts eyebags were an obligatory element of his looks (or if she were honest with herself – since the events of the Astronomy Tower if not earlier), but stress was justified in his case. She nodded instead. ''Do you require much more time with Albus?''

''No, I was already finishing. I think you would agree that conversing with a block of stone is rather... pointless,'' he spoke calmly and turned towards the castle.

Minerva joined Severus' on the walk towards the castle. ''Oh, then you are mistaken. Quite the opposite – I think one can find wisdom in stone even if it keeps its silence.'' The ex-Headmaster and the Headmistress walked slowly and the morning breeze became warmer, a promise of warm summer noon.

---

The quatro Apparated in an alley not too far from a telephone box. Even though Harry was already a skilled practioner of the art of Apparition, he still loathed the feeling when his whole body compressing and decompressing. His stomach seemed to be especially fragile to this mean of travelling. Harry leant against a wall, waving his hand to chase away some irritating fly.

''You're OK, Harry?'' Ginny squeezed his shoulder.

Harry swallowed and nodded. ''Yeah. Yeah,'' he repeated looking at his girlfriend. ''Just need a moment to catch a breath.''

''Mate, don't tell me you're nervous. You were here last week and well, it's only the greasy git, so-''

''Ron!'' Hermione showed the red-haired wizard. ''How can you say something like that?''

Ron shrugged. ''I'm just a realist, Mione.''

''Go, I'll catch you,'' Harry said and his friends headed for the telephone box. ''You still have that lunch to pass, right?'' he forced himself to smile.

''Ah, finally she's gone,'' he heard a female voice behind his back. He knew that voice too well. Furrowing his eyebrows Harry turned around to meet Rita Skeeter. He should have figured out this buzzing around his ear wasn't a coincidence. ''So, Potter, an interview?'' she offered with a voice so sweet Harry wanted to visit a dentist. ''I didn't have luck catching you before young Malfoy's trial, but nothing's lost – this one is even better.'' Her Quick-Quotes Quill was floating next to her head and it seemed that it was eyeing him as studiously as its owner. ''So, Harry – or should I name you the saviour of the wizardkind? So, Harry,'' she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. ''You were so gratious with sharing so many fascinating stories with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-''

''You can call him Voldemort,'' Harry said boredly.

''And with the crowd of onlookers, but won't spill the tea for old Rita?'' she tutted. ''Now, what's the story with your mother and Snape? You claimed Snape loved her to the point of betraying You-Know-Who.''

''That much is obvious. Can you let me go now?''

As Harry was trying to go away from Rita, she stood in his way. The journalist put her hands on his shoulders and landed her piercing gaze on his face. ''Hm, hmmm,'' she bit her lower lip. ''Black hair – check. Hm, green eyes,'' she grabbed his chin and raised it.

''I'm really in hurry, I don't have time for your games, Skeeter,'' Harry hissed and if he still could talk in Parseltongue, he most likely would have. He decided to face Rita like a man. ''Hermione!'' he called hoping the girl hasn't entered the telephone box yet.

''Har-?'' he heard Hermione's worried voice. ''You!'' she exclaimed eyeing Rita like a cat eyed a bird before jumping at it.

Rita's fake smile just turned even sweeter. ''Now, there's no need to be so agressive. Well,'' she grabbed her quill and run the feathered end down Harry's face much to his disgust. ''I think I shall be going.''

Hermione moved to stand as an obstacle between Harry and the journalist. ''And if you even dare to write anything about Harry or about professor Snape's trial, I will tell the whole Wizengamot you are an animagus!'' she warned.

''Thanks, Hermione,'' Harry said following his friend to the telephone box.

Hermione turned around with a disappointment on her face. ''Really, Harry, you need to learn to stand up for yourself around Rita. She's not going to leave you alone any time soon.''

Hermione and Harry entered the telephone box. Harry dialed 62442 and explained they came to serve as witnesses during a trial. The two took their badges and the floor beneath them dropped down, bringing them to the Atrium, where they joined the youngest two of Weasley siblings, who had passed the lunch box to their father. Soon the group was directed towards the Courtroom Ten. Harry knew the way – he wasn't surprised to hear Snape was going to be heard in the same room as Harry and much earlier the Lestranges.

Outside the dungeon that served as a courtroom they met familiar faces of professor Flitwick and professor Slughorn.

''Harry, my boy!'' Slughorn brightened up.

''We're not late, are we?'' Hermioned asked concerned.

''Professor Snape and professor McGonagall are already inside, but the trial hasn't begun yet,'' explained Flitwick to Hermione's relief. ''We are going to be asked to testify individually.''

''Hagrid isn't coming with us?'' Ron looked around trying to spot the half-giant, which usually wasn't a difficult feat.

Slughorn theatrically cleared his throat. ''Well, hm, we have discussed the matter with our Headmistress and came to a conclusion that our Care of Magical Creatures professor should refrain from testifying in front of the entire Wizengamot for professor Snape's good.''

---

Kingsley Shacklebolt, recently officially appointed as the Minister for Magic, stood in the middle amongst the Wizengamot. ''Criminal hearing of the 6^th of July, into offences committed under the Sorcery Penal Code and European Penal Statute for Magic by Severus Snape, resident at Spinner's End, Cokeworth. Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Ellias Tornrug, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Cynthia Pebblepetal, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Gawain Nortooth. Witness for the defence, Minerva McGonagall. Severus Snape, you are accused of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, allying yourself with Lord Voldemort, being a Death Eater and treason. What do you say of this?''

Snape was sitting in a chair and McGonagall was sitting to his right. ''I think, Minister, we should go through the offences one by one. I'm afraid some details of my role in the recent events might be confusing,'' he spoke calmly. ''To understand their nature, to receive the most faithful overview and to deliver the judgement that is going to grant the honoured members of the Wizengamot a clear conscience,'' he said the last part with a grimace forming on his face. ''The facts in the case should be established first.''

Shacklebolt nodded. ''And what is the witness for the defence' opinion on the matter?'' he looked at the Headmistress.

McGonagall straightened her back in the chair. ''I support defendant's motion. Therefore, I ask to hear witnesses first and the defendant as the last before the Wizengamot reaches its verdict.''

''Very well. Name your witnesses.''

McGonagall fixed her glasses, making them glint threateningly in the process. ''Filius Flitwick, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Horace Slughorn, Ginevra Weasley, Ronald Weasley and myself, Minerva McGonagall. Furthermore I would like to file a motion to incorporate into today's hearing the transcription of Narcissa Malfoy's testimony from page seven to page nine from the trial of 23^rd of June, the transcription of Draco Malfoy's testimony from page nineteen to page twenty-two from the trial of 29^th of June, the transcription of Alecto Carrow's testimony from page three to page six from the trial of 8^th of June and the transcription of Amycus Carrow's testimony from page five to page seven from the trial of 12^th of June, all with an emphasis on passages relating to the death of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape's work as the Headmaster of Hogwarts and mentions of the defendant being, to quote, 'a traitor', 'mudblood-lover' and 'blood traitor'.''

Kingsley turned towards the scribe ''Mr. Nortooth, please incorporate the aforementioned passages and hand the copies to the Wizengamot.'' Then his gaze landed again on Minerva. ''Do you have a preferred order of hearing witnesses?''

''The defence would like to hear Mr. Flitwick first, followed by Mr. Slughorn, then Mr. Weasley, Ms. Weasley, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter and myself at the end before hearing the defendant. Moreover, if I may, I would like to ask for a copy of the aforementioned passages for the defence.''

The look on Kingsley's face told Minerva she might have asked too much of the Minister, but the man said nothing against the motion, only waved his wand making a copy of parchment find its way to the Headmistress hands. Severus merely raised an eyebrow sparing the parchment a glance.

Short, round wizard got up. ''Why do we need to hear all of these witnesses? The case is simple – the Carrows and young Malfoy testified it was Snape who murdered Dumbledore! He is a bearer of the Mark! It is merely a waste of Wizengamot's precious time,'' he scoffed.

''We will hear all the witnesses even if they keep talking until next morning, Ellias,'' Kingsley looked at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ''Because in darkness light shall prevail, as would have said the great Headmaster of Hogwarts, just mentioned by you. We cannot hope to reach a just verdict without hearing from witnesses. Be doing so we would not be any better than the dark forces we have defeated. Mr. Nortooth, please call Mr. Flitwick.''

The tiny teacher sat on the third chair. He stated his name, age and profession before he dwelled on Snape's record as a teacher – of his involevement in protecting the Philospher's Stone and having been of most trusted Dumbledore's subordinates. Then he moved onto the matter of Snape's reign as the Headmaster and his escape.

''Thank you, Mr. Flitwick, you are free to go. You may leave – then you are asked not to communicate with remaining witnesses through the rest of the trial. Alternatively, you may take a sit in the gallery,'' the Minister waved his hand towards the empty section of the podium.

Charms Master bowed. ''I'd like to stay during the trial, Minister.''

''Naturally,'' with a flick of Kingsley's wand staircase appeared and Flitwick climbed to the gallery. When he sat down, the stairs disappeared.

Subsequently, Slughorn was called. The elderly wizard was generous in flattery for Snape's deeds and his bravery, said that he was proud to call him his colleague and successor in the occupation of Potions Master. Slughorn also opted for sitting in the gallery, awaiting the verdict.

Then Ron came. His short and not too detailed description of Snape's involvement made Minerva question why she bothered calling him as a witness. Afraid of the red-head speaking something he shouldn't have and thus shrinking Severus' chances at acquittal, she quickly informed the Wizengamot she had no further questions for the witness. Given a choice to leave or sit in the gallery, Ron looked around somehow confused before finally choosing to join his teachers, probably anticipating his friends making the same choice.

His sister entered the courtroom next. Ginny's testimony was more beneficial for Snape as she talked of her, Neville and Luna's attempt at stealing Gryffindor's Sword and the punishment that awaited them.

''At the time we were too scared to think about it and we were so relieved to spend our detention with Hagrid, that we didn't ask ourselves what prompted professor Snape to serve this kind of punishment instead of detentions with the Carrows. I've had some doubts, but never shared them with anyone, I deemed them silly. We all thought professor was the bad guy, there was no point in questioning it,'' the read-head say.

''And do you question it now?'' asked a witch, whose cyan robe was peaking out from her Wizengamot garment.

Ginny shook her head. ''No. I don't need to question it. I know I was wrong.''

''How do you know?'' Cynthia Pebblepetal went on.

Ginny looked at the interrogating witch. ''It makes sense. Professor didn't want the Carrows find out Harry needed the sword, so he found a mean of punishment that reduced the risk of us being tortured and betraying the secret. If the Carrows heard of the importance of the sword, they might have figured out it was swapped for a counterfeit.''

As Ginny took a sit next to her brother, Hermione walked in. Her answers were at the same time precise and very detailed, as if the hearing were an exam. She didn't fail to mention similarity between Snape's and Branford Donnersberg's cases. She even made a reference to Sirius' trial and the outcome being a completely wrongful verdict. Then she moved onto the subject of Snape's role in the Order.

And then finally came Harry. The courtroom was as stressful as he remembered it. He looked right and saw his friends and teachers in the gallery, Ginny offering him an encouraging smile. Yeah, that about explained why no one had left the courtroom yet. He didn't recall there being a gallery, he realised. Maybe he had been too busy not getting expelled from Hogwarts last time to notice, maybe it was a new addition. There was some comfort in the thought he would be allowed to watch the Wizengamot reach its verdict instead of waiting outside to find out the fate that awaited the man.

He took the empty chair next to professor McGonagall, thankful he didn't have to sit next to the git he owed so much.

''Your name?'' the Minister asked.

''Harry Potter,'' Harry tried to remain calm.

''Age?''

''Seventeen.''

''Occupation?''

''Er... student,'' Harry swallowed feeling the eyes of the entire Wizengamot scrutinising him.

Shacklebolt intertwined his hands. ''What do you know about the case of Severus Snape?''

''What do I know...'' Harry wondered aloud. ''A lot, I think. Where do I begin-''

''Try to be concise if you will, Potter,'' Ellias Tornrug grumbled. ''We don't have a whole day for this farce.''

Kingsley's face hardened as he turned towards the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ''Ellias, once again I am asking you to let the witness speak,'' the calmness of his voice contrasted with his face.

''I'll start with that I was wrong about professor Snape, like we are were,'' Harry made up his mind. ''He's been protecting me ever since I set a foot in Hogwarts. For example when professor Quirrel jinxed my broom. He was following professor Dumbledore's orders to secure the Philosopher's Stone.'' And Harry told the Wizengamot about Snape brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for professor Lupin and his attempts at warning students. He spoke of Snape warning Dumbledore of Voldemort's return and in turn Dumbledore ordering Snape to rejoin Death Eater's ranks. Without dwelling into details, Harry also recalled Occlumency lessons, which were supposed to prevent Voldemort from entering Harry's mind. The boy, however, decided it would be for the better if he omitted how poorly it had ended. He mentioned Snape trying to put a stop to the curse that attacked the Headmaster and working as a double agent under Dumbledore's instructions. ''I didn't know why professor Dumbledore cast Petrificus Totalus on me and hid me-'' he hesitated for a moment and went on without mentioning the Invisibility Cloak. ''I didn't understand at the time. I think he wanted me to see it was what he wanted. He didn't want Draco to become a murderer, so he left the task to professor Snape. You should know that professor Dumbledore's arm was blackened from the curse. I tried to deny it, but deep down I knew how it was going to end – even if the Headmaster had survived the battle of Astronomy Tower, he would have died soon anyway. With his death he killed many birds with one stone – he prevented Draco from committing a murder, he strengthened professor Snape's position among the Death Eaters and I think he spared himself much worse death,'' Harry counted on his fingers. ''I believe that's what he truly wanted. You didn't see him back then – I had. He was so miserable, ready to give up on his life. He was ready to meet his death. I thought he was begging Snape for his life. I was wrong – he was begging for his death. I only wish the mission with the locket wasn't a fiasco. Professor drank the drink of despair for naught. Regulus Black took it in hopes of destroying it,'' noticing stunned faces of the Wizengamot, he said. ''You didn't know? Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, betrayed Voldemort. He sacrificed his life hoping that it would put a stop to the bestialities-''

''Mr. Potter,'' Cynthia Pebblepetal rose up. ''Could you get to the point?'' she asked impatiently.

Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. ''Right. So,'' he coughed and resumed the story. He spoke of the silver doe and of the Shrieking Shack. And then he recollected Snape's memories. He tried to keep them brief, feeling not authorised to talk about what perhaps were the man's most profound memories.

The question that Harry was afraid of and which he expected to hear arrived. ''One cannot deny that Severus Snape is a talented wizard. As far as we are concerned, he may be able to alter his memories without leaving a trace of any interferention. How do you know you were not given false memories, Potter?'' Ellias Tornrug asked.

Harry clenched his fist on his knees, sweat running down his back. He didn't have an absolute proof that the interrogator expected to hear. He only had his faith in goodness, a firm belief that the man that nearly had lost his life had done it for greater call. Belief in the power of love. In forgiveness. Snape had tried to teach him Occlumency and failed, accusing Harry of being too emotional. Hadn't Dumbledore said it was what had in the end protected Harry from Voldemort's possession? Suddenly he was struck with an enlightment. ''I know it, because professor Snape loves my mother,'' he said realising he felt no shame in admitting that someone other than his dad loves his mum as well. Similarly, he had felt no shame or embarrassment while revealing the truth to the darkest wizard of the century, but back then Harry had acted high on adrenaline. The majority of people would be repulse to the idea of acknowledging someone else beside their father having romantic feelings for their mother. Deep down inside Harry had expected himself to grow repulse as well, but now, two months after the battle he still found no negative emotions concerning that matter. On the contrary, he found the thought weirdly warming for some reason. ''I know it is true, because I saw his patronus – a doe, just like my mom's. You can't probably think it is a coincidence. It is not. Professor Snape has done all these heroic things to honour my mom's memory,'' he said firmly. ''And that's why Voldemort lost – he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of anyone sacrificing their life for love, or anyone finding love more important than power. That's why he wasn't able to see past professor Snape's play until the very end,'' he looked left and the black eyes of Severus Snape met the green ones of Harry. For a fracture of a second Harry saw an emotion pass through the dark eyes of his teacher. An emotion he could not figure out. He could swear he saw Snape's eyes soften for a moment... maybe he was imagining stuff. Harry looked away suddenly afraid in that moment of the things he could possibly find in his teacher's eyes.

Ellias Tornrug scoffed. ''That is not any evidence at all. You might be even right, Potter. This does not mean he loved Lily Potter. He could have been born with a doe as a patronus. And even if he loved your mother, it doesn't change the things he had done.''

''Tonks'- I mean Nymphadora Lupin's patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus Lupin. Patronuses can change! I don't believe professor Snape's patronus is just a coincidence,'' Harry protested clenching his fists on his laps.

''Patroni,'' Harry heard lecturing silky whisper to his left. He turned his face to see professor McGonagall eyeing Snape scrutiningly for not being able to stop himself from correcting Harry. The boy wasn't in the mood to fight back and argue that professor Lupin had used the 'patronuses' plural form. Fortunately it seemed that the Wizengamot hadn't heard Snape.

''My patronus is a stag, just like my dad's because of my love for him, even thought I've never really known him,'' Harry reminded and looked right into Tornrug's eyes, challenging him. ''I don't believe in this kind of coincidences. And if you sentence professor Snape, you will be sentencing an innocent man, just like you had in my godfather's case,'' he said firmly.

''Mr. Potter,'' Pebblepetal's high voice lectured him. ''I do not recall the Wizengamot asking you for your opinions.''

Shacklebolt stood up. ''Do you have something more to say on the matter?''

Harry hesitated. Yes, he had to say so much more on the matter were he given all the time in the world. No – his line of defence relied on his belief he hadn't been fooled by his teachers. The Wizengamot was growing bored by his testimony, he saw it on their faces. ''No,'' he decided.

''Thank you for your time. You may leave the courtroom or remain in the courtroom in the gallery.''

''I wish to stay,'' Harry spoke before joining his friends. When he sat down, Ginny grabbed his hand and reassuringly squeezed it. He repaid her with a tentative smile.

Then the time has come for McGonagall's testimony. The Headmistress spoke about Snape's role in the Order, the trust Dumbledore put in the spy and the secrets the former Headmaster kept from his colleagues. She talked about her hatred for Snape when he took Dumbledore's life and later his position. And she spoke of her regret over the feelings upon finding out the truth. Even though her hands slightly trembled, her gaze was fierce and fiery.

At last Snape's turn arrived.

''Severus Snape, we have heard testimonies in your case. How to you plead?'' Kingsley asked.

Snape's face was devoid of any emotions. ''As the Wizengamot had heard, I have killed Albus Dumbledore,'' he spoke calmly.

''There you have it!'' Ellias Tornrug exclaimed, pointing his fat finger at the man.

''Murderer!'' seconded Elphias Doge.

''Is he nuts? Why we had to say all that stuff if he admitted killing Dumbledore?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, offended his teacher has so rudely wasted his time.

''Ron!'' Hermione whispered angrily and rolled her eyes. ''How would it make professor Snape look to deny doing something everyone, including Harry, Death Eaters and Draco, have testified he had done?''

Ron scratched his ginger hair. ''Not too good, I suppose,'' he admitted meekly not too sold onto the defence strategy Snape has chosen.

''However,'' Severus went on ignoring the tumult. ''I have done it on Dumbledore's clear orders. I was repulse to the idea of taking his life, but that's what he expected of me. He also wanted me to aid Draco in his efforts wtih a condition that I would not allow the boy kill the old man. Complying with Narcissa's and Dark Lord's wishes in Headmaster's mind was supposed to build my reliability in the eyes of Death Eaters. Furthermore, I am Draco's godfather – I could not leave him all alone. I also admit I had joined Death Eaters. Being young and stupid is no excuse of such a reckless decision and if I could go back in time, I wouldn't have repeated the mistake. Alas, I cannot and I am going to live with the Dark Mark as a reminder of my greatest mistakes until my last dying breath. Maybe,'' he made a pause and repeated putting an emphasis on the word. ''Maybe I would have remained faithful supporter of the Dark Lord if not for Lily. Yes, it is me who had relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord. As soon as I learnt the Dark Lord meant to take life of Lily's son I begged him for her life. Then I ran to Dumbledore and begged him to protect him... and then all the Potters. Following sixteen years I have spent as Dumbledore's agent. Would I have realised what a twisted tyrant the Dark Lord had been if it hadn't been Lily's life at stake? I will not try to fool you – most likely not. I know nothing I will do or say will bring her back. I don't ask you for mercy. I only ask for justice. It is your responsibility to decide what is justice in my case.''

Minerva stood up.''All you've heard today sums up into a coherent, logical story. Have you found any spot in testimonies of witnesses? Do you sense a deceit in their words? Do you think I would lie to you?''

''He is a murderer!'' Ellias Tornrug cried out. ''He said so himself!''

''If you do not believe the witnesses testifying today, all adamant that the defendant is an innocent man, believe the disgust this man had awaken in Death Eaters you claim the defendant to have supported,'' Minerva picked up the parchment with one hand and fixed her glasses with the other. ''To quote Alecto Carrow: 'We should've listened to Bella – she knew he was a fucking mudblood-lover' page three; 'She tried to warn to Dark Lord. She was only one who didn't buy Snape's story' page three; 'We were too blinded by his smooth pledges of alliegance to the Dark Lord to see what Bella saw – the man who had spent so many years in Dumbledore's pocket had to be working for the old fool' page five. To quote Amycus Carrow: 'I hope I will meet Snape in Azkaban. I don't need my wand to make him beg for mercy for betraying the Dark Lord. I will make the fucking traitor wish I were casting Cruciatus' page six; 'We shouldn't have trusted the fucking half-blood whore, his blood is as dirty as the mudblood he loved' page seven'', she read out. ''Trust Narcissa Malfoy when she spoke of the Unbreakable Vow the defendant made to her. Trust Draco Malfoy when he admitted he had told Severus Snape to break the vow and die, because he didn't want his help. Finally, trust Dumbledore's trust put into Severus Snape. And if your minds are still too thick to see the truth that shines as clear as day here in this room, trust your hearts. Trust in love this man has for Lily Potter, for the witness for the defence has one last evidence in the case,'' Minerva's eyes narrowed in determination.

''And that may be?'' the Minister asked.

''I knew Lily Potter. Indeed, her patronus was a doe. Perhaps I should remind you doe is an uncommon form of patronus? Two wizards or witches sharing such a patronus is an extremely rare occurence that never comes without a reason if the said wizards or witches have lived in the same period. Give Severus Snape his wand and let him cast the Patronus Charm. Let the Wizengamot see his patronus and deem in your hearts if it can be a mere coincidence,'' she urged.

Ellias Tornrug abruptly stood up. ''This is an outrage! To give a man accused of murder and treason a wand?!''

''I'm sorry McGonagall but you surely understand you ask too much of us. I have to agree with Tornrug – the offences Snape is accused of are too dire to return his wand to him,'' Shacklebolt said.

Minerva neatly folded her hands on her lap. ''Very well, Minister,'' she nodded. ''Severus, please take my wand,'' she presented her wand to the black-haired man, who seemed to be as startled by the offer as the Wizengamot. ''I trust you to be able to cast a corporeal Patronus even with my wand.''

''Minerva!'' Elphias Doge roared. ''This is a madness. You can't-''

''You are mistaken, Doge. I can and I will. I respect you for your life-long friendship with Albus. All I ask you to is to rely on the trust he had put into Severus.''

Doge's face turned red. ''And where that trust had led Albus?! I will never trust the man who murdered my friend! He should rot away in Azkaban!''

''I choose to trust Severus like Albus had. I give you my word of the Headmistress of Hogwarts that Severus will not use my wand to cause harm. Now, Severus, don't make me wait, my hand is becoming numb,'' Minerva urged her colleague.

Snape carefully took the wand from Minerva's hand and nodded maintaining the eye contact with his superior. He stroked the wood, feeling its foreign texture under his tips. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He opened them once again and said ''Expecto Patronum''. The incantation was firm, but not as loud as when Harry said it. Silvery shape emerged at the end of McGonagall's wand and a doe hopped down the courtroom before jumping through the closed door.

''Thank you, Minerva,'' the spy said calmly, returning the wand to its rightful owner, as if ignorant to the shock on faces of several members of the Wizengamot.

The Headmistress proudly straightened her back. ''Have you ever seen a Death Eater capable of casting a corporeal Patronus?'' she asked rhetorically. ''Now, the defence believes it has stated its views on the matter clearly enough. We rely upon the Wizengamot's wisdom,'' she tactfully bowed her head.

Heart in Harry's chest hammered anxiously as if it were his own trial. His stomach clenched as the boy recalled all the things he ought to have said and hadn't. He should have mentioned his mum and Snape growing up together and having been friends even before attending Hogwarts. He knew what happened now.

''Raise your hand if you think the defendant should be cleared of all charges,'' ordered Tornrug.

Harry saw many hands going up in the air – newly appointed Minister's and his Senior Undersecretary's hands included. Many, but Harry wasn't able to tell if enough. Unfortunately just like his own hearing he was not given the time to count the hands.

''Raise your hand if you think the charges were proven to the defendant,'' said the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Again, numerous hands were raised up, among them the hands of Tornrug and Doge. Harry felt the sweat forming on his forehead and Ginny squeezed his hand once again. Hermione's gasp didn't help to ease the knot in his stomach. He wasn't able to tell if his friend gasped of joy or of outrage.

Shacklebolt stood up, ordering silence in the courtroom with a gesture of his hand. ''Severus Snape, by the verdict of the Wizengamot you are cleared of all charges,'' he announced not bothering to hide his own satisfaction.

Hermione threw her arms around Ron as if Gryffindor had just won the final Quidditch match. Or maybe even more enthusiastically in her case – after all the girl wasn't too interested in the game. Harry smiled brightly at his own girlfriend. They did it! Severus Snape was a free man.

Chapter Text

Ron was relaxing on the floor with his arms crossed behind his head. The rug was nice, rather fluffy. He had to admit the place was nicer than he had imagined. Not that he would ever tell Hermione he'd imagined her parents home would be less... less something. He wasn't even sure what.

Mrs. and Mr. Granger lived in a flat. Hermione had said her parents have moved into new flat upon their return to England – the flat they had been renting was currently taken, so they couldn't go back there.

Ron didn't have any experience with muggle flats – he'd only visited Harry's aunt and uncle's house. Judging by Harry's behaviour, he also wasn't too familiar with this kind of muggle housing. Well, Harry's kin were kind of maniacs, so maybe they weren't that representative for muggles. Despite his dad's obsession with everything and anything muggle, Ron wasn't really knowledgeable about muggle stuff and the older he got, the more he had a feeling his dad wasn't too, even though Arthur Weasley was a self-proclaimed muggle expert.

Ron had already met Hermione's parents years ago when they and his own parents were shopping for new school year. Nevertheless their politeness startled him a bit, especially compared to what he knew about the Dursleys. He almost felt... welcomed? They hadn't even appeared shocked to see four teenagers Apparating in their flat. Each muggle was different, just like wizards, he supposed.

Life is good, Ron concluded, forgetting for a moment about the war, about Fred's death and about incoming school year that was supposed to end with N.E.W.T.s. If only Hermione were kind enough to brush his hair, he sighed.

''Hey, don't fall asleep already!'' Ron reluctantly lifted an eyelid upon his sister's voice breaking the bliss of the moment.

''I'm not falling asleep!'' he protested lamely. ''Besides, the sight of you two cuddling all the time is utterly boring.'' At least Harry had enough dignity for his face to turn red at the remark.

''Oh, you hypocrite! Should I remind how you and Lavender-'' Ginny crossed her arms in a very Molly Weasley manner.

Surprisingly it was Hermione who interrupted the girl. ''I don't think we should be talking about Lavender in this way considering that...'' she lowered her voice to nonexistence, for once looking more embarrassed than jealous at the mention of Lavender Brown. She cleared her throat. ''Anyway, I think we should go tomorrow to get our school supplies,'' Hermione opted for an abrupt change of subject.

''Hermione,'' Ron huffed. ''It's only mid-July!''

''Exactly! That's why we should be making preparations,'' Hermione insisted.

Ron lifted his head to look at his girlfriend. ''No! That's why we should be still resting and not thinking about Hogwarts, OK?''

Harry pulled his knees closer, plucking at the ends of his trousers. ''Do you think Scribbulus Writing Implements and Flourish and Blotts are already opened?''

''My point exactly!'' Ron seconded his friend.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''No, your point was that you didn't want to occupy yourself with school supplies.''

''Well, it wouldn't hurt to check, right? If they don't have books, we can borrow one of Charlie's or Bill's or Percy's or-'' Ginny halted realising she would have to name her late brother if she kept going. ''You know, the regular older brothers' school stuff.''

''I think Hogwarts will be prepared to supply its pupils if we can't get our equipment,'' Hermione said with conviction. ''Besides, if the stores aren't opened already, we can check later.''

''And I think you put too much trust in our school,'' Ron deadpanned and then turned towards Harry, questioningly raising his eyebrow. ''Alright, mate? You seem awfully quiet.''

''Uh,'' Harry waved his hand dismissively. ''It's nothing.'' There was a recurring thought that greatly bothered Harry – the brief look in Snape's eyes, so un-Snape-like, when his gaze met Harry's. The boy just couldn't decipher the emotion behind that expression.

Unfortunately the boys didn't have much to say once the girls decided they wanted to visit the Diagon Alley. Once again Ron was surprised to see Hermione's parents give her muggle money and hear them instructing their daughter to exchange them in the Gringotts. He doubted his dad would be able to name any muggle bank, to be honest. Because muggles had banks, right?

Flourish and Blotts were opened, only somewhat short on the supplies – a rather understandable situation in the light of the spring's events. Naturally, being deficient in goods wesn't an issue for the merchants once they saw the saviour of the wizarding world walk into their humble establishment.

Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable to utilise that privilege. Ron, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept sellers' generosity, especially if they offered their goods at reduced price or threw in some extras for free.

Having lost Snape's copy of Advanced Potion-Making, Harry had to buy another one. He sighed at the memory of the textbook – Potions were so much easier with Snape's notes. It was a shame Snape hadn't taught the subject in the way he had made notes in the book. Classes would have been much more enjoyable. And the fact he was going to become an utter disappointment in Slughorn's eyes wasn't nothing to look forward to. He tried to comfort himself that if he had received an E.E. at the O.W.L.s he should be able to achieve an E.E. at the N.E.W.T.s. Otherwise his auror career was gone.

There was also Transfiguration. Harry wondered who was going to teach the subject since professor McGonagall became the Headmistress. At least Charms with Flitwick were a relatively easy subject.

''Maybe we could walk into Madam Malkin's?'' Harry offered once the quatro left Flourish and Blotts.

''Why?'' Ron asked warily. ''My robes are fine.''

''Well,'' Harry scratched the back of his head. ''Mine are too short. Besides I'm sure they got torn or something during our mission.''

''Sounds fine by me,'' said Ginny. ''I'll keep you company. Ron doesn't have to come with us if he doesn't want to,'' she smirked meanly at her brother.

''I think I'll go to Scribbulus Writing Implements – I've lost my ink somewhere in the forest, I guess?'' Hermione admitted.

''Can't all of us go together, please?'' Harry asked uncertainly. Seeing his friends' confused faces, he elaborated. ''It's our last year at Hogwarts and I... I wanted to give you something to thank you for those, erm, wonderful and, uh, scarry years together, alright?''

Hermione squeezed his arm. ''Oh, Harry that's so sweet of you, but you don't owe us anything.''

''I'd really like to get you something. Look, Ron and Hermione, I haven't got you any birthday presents-''

''Because we were running after horcruxes, remember, mate?'' Ron smacked him rather playfully. ''Give it a rest Harry!''

''And Ginny's birthday is soon,'' Harry reminded.

''Yours is sooner,'' Ginny pointed out.

''Besides new robes for four of us would cost you a fortune!'' Ron exclaimed.

Harry lowered his head somewhat sorrowfully. ''That's not a problem. My parents left me some money. Sirius too... and I don't want it. I've never wanted. At least I'll be able to do something for people I care about.''

''Oh, alright!'' Ron threw his hands up. ''If it'll make you feel better then fine!''

Having gathered their new robes, the group headed for Scribbulus Writing Implements. Harry briefly glanced at the owl display and his heart ached at the memory of his loyal feathered companion. He knew he would eventually need to get a new owl, but the mere thought of buying another owl felt like betrayal to Hedwig's memory. He was going to stay one more year at Hogwarts where they had an owlery – if he needed to sent a message, he could simply borrow an owl.

''And where do you think you are going?'' they heard a familiar voice. ''Go to the Diagon Alley and you won't even drop by to see how your brother is doing?'' George stood in front of his shop. Ginny stuck out her tongue at him. ''Very mature of you, Ginny. Mum will be happy to hear about it,'' he spoke smugly.

''Oi, George, get lost. We get enough of you on daily basis,'' Ron sneered. ''You'll make me pay extra for being your brother and give your stuff for free to Harry as you always do.''

George snorted. ''Whatever a family is for, Ronny?''

Sensing the incoming escalation Hermione addressed the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. ''Sorry, George, but we've got quite a list of necessities to get for new school year.''

George exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. ''Hermione, relax, you still have one and half a month!''

''You tell her,'' Ron made a face. ''Hey!'' he said as Hermione shoved her elbow into his ribs.

''And if you fail N.E.W.T.s, you can always find a job in my humble establishment,'' George bowed with a nonchalant smirk on his face.

---

The Burrow and Hermione's parents' flat weren't the only places where the group of friends spent their summer. Grimmauld Place 12 required some cleaning after having been raided by the Death Eaters. Of course Harry wasn't going to say a bad word about Kreacher's house maintenance. The house elf was old and the house was vast. Besides, Harry spent most of his time in the Burrow with the Weasleys. He kept warm memories of him, Ron and Hermione stay in the place during their quest, but living there with only the house elf as the company reminded him too much of Sirius. Of how the house became Sirius' prison and how his misbehaviour led to his godfather's demise.

There was also the issue of spells cast on the house by the Mad-Eye in order to prevent Snape from entering it. Tongue-Tying Curse and the vision of Dumbledore had lost their allure the moment Harry had learnt about Snape's true alliances. The problem was Alastor Moody was gone and therefore couldn't lift his spells. And were Moody's spells well guarded? At first they tried something simple as the Finite Incantatem. Like the group had anticipated, the spell didn't work – it would be too simple for the famous Mad-Eye.

After several unsuccessful attempts with various spells, Harry called the house elf. ''Kreacher, would you be so kind and remove the spells Alastor Moody had set as a trap for professor Snape?''

Kreacher bowed politely. ''Kreacher will get rid of those nasty spells.'' The house elf raised his arm in the direction of the entrance door and then fell down to the ground and started yelling and crying.

''Kreacher, what happened?'' Hermione approached the house elf and offered him a handkerchief, but the house elf only looked at her angrily and swatted her hand. ''Kreacher hasn't fulfilled his Master's wishes. Kreacher is a bad bad house elf!'' the being cried. ''What would Kreacher's Mistress say if she saw what a failure he is? She'd punish him! No, even worse – she'd sent him away!''

Hermione glared expectantly at Harry. The boy had thought Kreacher would have been able to deal with Moody's spells. He had been able to escape Voldemort's hideout in the cave, after all. ''No one is going to send you away, Kreacher. I'm not disappointed with you.''

''But Kreacher has failed his Master!'' the house elf sobbed.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. House elfs were truly difficult to reason with. ''Kreacher, I order you to stop thinking of it as failing your Master, am I clear?''

The house elf sniffed. ''Yes, Master.''

Hermione being herself proposed they checked the books in the house for the answer to Moody's spells. Actually, it was more of a statement that accepted no objections than a proposal. Even though it was foreseeable, upon hearing the word 'books' Ron looked like a deflated balloon. By the time of dinner they haven't found the counter-spell yet, but at least Kreacher's mood lifted at the praises he received for his cooking.

---

The eighteenth birthday Harry celebrated in the Burrow with his closest friends and the member of the Weasley clan residing there. It was a humble celebration and Harry was pleased it remained that way. It would have felt wrong to hold a party not even three months since Fred's death.

''Here you go, dear,'' Mrs. Weasley placed a cake decorated with candles in front of the birthday boy. ''Make a wish,'' she smiled. Harry briefly wondered and blew the candles, receiving an applause.

Ginny and Hermione got up, whispering and quietly giggling. Ron glanced at the girls and tried to join them unnoticed, but was betrayed by the loud shuffle of his chair.

Harry watched his friends leave the dining room clearly exhilarated about something and smiled at the sight. In moments like that he felt there was no need to make wishes – he had everything needed in the world.

After few moments Ginny, Ron and Hermione returned pushing each other and holding together what was a broomstick poorly wrapped in the present paper. Due to broomsticks' distinctive shape it was hard to surprise the receiver with a present.

''Harry,'' started Ron, but Hermione interrupted him.

''We know how much you loved your broom, which was sadly lost-''

''And how much you love Quidditch, so we decided to-'' said Ginny, but what followed was a cacophony of sentences.

''Hey, I'm the one talking, I'm his best mate, alright?'' Ron protested.

Ginny glared angrily at her brother. ''And I am his girlfriend!''

Harry fidgeted with his fingers. ''Guys, it's very thoughtful, but you shouldn't have.''

''We want to hear none of that, Harry,'' Hermione rebuked him.

Mrs. Weasley encouragingly pushed him in his friends' direction. ''Go ahead, open it.''

Harry took the broom from his friends' hands and unwrapped the paper. It was a Firebolt, looking just like the one his godfather had bought him. Even the colours were the same. ''I-I don't know what to say... it must've cost you a fortune!''

''That's what you get for buying us new robes,'' Ron said menacingly.

''Really, thank you,'' with a broom in his hand he went for a group hug. He heard a sound of flashlight.

''Oh, splendid, Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley watched the scene blissfully and then looked at her husband, who was holding a camera. ''It'll make such a nice picture!''

Mr. Weasley put the camera aside and rubbed his hands. ''Alright, since we're past the presents, I think Harry can do the honours and cut the cake. What would you say?''

''Finally!'' George exclaimed. ''I'm starving here!''

Following becoming an adult in the light of muggle law, Harry went to a muggle post office to rent a Post Office Box for Grimmauld Place 12. As the house was concealed from the prying eyes of muggles, no muggle post was delivered there. Harry wasn't expecting to receive any muggle mail, but part of him did this to spite old Walburga Black. He couldn't wait to faux-casually inform Kreacher of the possibility of muggle mail being sent to the Grimmauld Place 12 loudly enough for the wretched painting to hear. And boy, wasn't the house much more pleasant without the mock-spectre of Dumbledore jumping at him everytime he walked in?

Chapter Text

''Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley hurried her husband up. ''Arthur!'' she repeated firmly seeing the first call had no effects on him. ''We'll be late!''

''We won't, Molly,'' Mr. Weasley spoke calmly, combing his thinning ginger hair. ''See, kids are already packed up,'' he waved with his comb in Ginny, Ron and Harry's direction, who were standing with their luggage at ready.

''Yes, and you are the only person who isn't prepared,'' Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes angrily at her husband. ''Have you forgotten we have promised Xenophilius to pick Luna up and drive her to the King's Cross Station?''

Putting her fists on her hips seemed to be an ultimate argument on Molly's side as Arthur sighed tiredly. ''Alright, kids, put your luggage into the boot.'' Teenagers nodded and headed for the car, while Mr. Weasley grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee, only to hear his wife's offended snort.

Ten minutes later they left the Burrow and drove past several hills until they reached the Lovegood house. The building was still mostly in ruin, but next to the tower-like main building, was standing a smaller wooden hut, probably a temporary housing for the Lovegoods.

Light blonde opened the door of the hut, holding a large, weirdly colourful suitcase in her case.

Mr. Weasley got out of the car and rushed to help the girl with her luggage, while Mrs. Weasley greeted Luna. ''Isn't your dad going to come out? I'd like to say 'good morning' to him,'' Mrs. Weasley smiled.

''No,'' Luna shrugged. ''He doesn't feel like leaving the house today.''

Mrs. Weasley nodded politely. ''Oh, I understand. Please give him my wishes of good health.''

Luna got into the car, choosing the least comfortable route that required crawling through Ron's, Ginny's and Harry's laps. Having sat down, she said in her usualy dreamy and slightly distant voice. ''Harry, Ginny, Ron, it's nice to see you. Oh, that's an interesting machine, I've never had a ride in something like that,'' she looked around the car. ''I hope it's not infested with Goorandings, they love metal, you know?'' The group has known Luna long enough not to be surprised at the mention of strange creatures they've never heard of before. None of them bothered to ask Luna to elaborate, aware it would be a pointless endeavour.

They arrived at the King's Cross Station about twenty minutes before Hogwarts Express' departure and Mr. Weasley couldn't help himself from pointing out he knew there was no need for rush. Soon enough they were joined by the Grangers.

Hermione ran towards her friends to hug them. ''Luna! I didn't know you'd come with the Weasleys and Harry,'' she smiled.

''Yes, my dad is busy repairing our house,'' Luna tilted her head as if she was trying to see through Hermione, whose face grew red.

Hermione scratched her hand. ''I'm sorry about that and uh, the Erumpent horn.''

''You've got nothing to apologise for. It wasn't the horn – dad told me it was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack's horn,'' Luna said with full conviction. ''They are not explosive.''

Mrs. Weasley approached Mr. And Mrs. Granger to greet them. ''And this is Luna Lovegood, Ginny's friend and our neighbour.''

Mrs. Granger smiled politely at the blonde-haired girl. ''It's nice to finally meet you in person. Hermione told us about you.''

Luna narrowed her eyes, watching Hermione's parents closely. ''For muggles there's a lot of magical aura around you. Maybe it's the Nargles,'' she shrugged and Hermione looked apologetically at her parents.

Meanwhile Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley found a common subject to vent about – being fooled by their children who unbeknownst to their parents went on a possibly suicidal mission, which resulted in Ron and Hermione receiving every few moments a disapproving glance from their mothers.

Ten to eleven, the teenagers said their good-byes and walked through the barrier.

The mixed Ravenclaw-Gryffindor group sat together in a compartment. The first thing Luna did upon finding her spot was taking out the newest issue of the Quibbler.

''Your dad is still printing that?'' Ron wrinkled his nose.

''Yes,'' Luna said noncommittally as she turned the magazine 90 degrees to the left.

Ron and Hermione were relieved to be set free of their prefect duties – having skipped their seventh year, they had been replaced with other Gryffindors. They spent their final beginning-of-the-school-year ride on the Hogwarts Express as usual – gossiping, buying and eating sweets until Hermione, a true dentists' daughter, warned them of caries. It felt strange to ride to the Hogwarts without Neville by their side.

Ron shuddered at the sight of Thestrals and Hermione was visibly disgusted by the creatures. ''So, you've always seen them?'' he asked.

''Yes,'' Luna fixed her spectacles.

''Every year? Ew, they are awful,'' Ron whined.

''Stop complaining, Ron,'' Ginny rolled her eyes. ''They've always been here, we just couldn't see them.''

''I wish I could unsee them. Do you think Obliviating the memory of witnessing death would make me lose the ability to see them?'' Ron asked hopefully and Harry sympathised with his friend. Seeing Thestrals for the first time had been a shock for him as well.

Hermione pushed her boyfriend towards a carriage. ''We're not testing it, Ron. Unless you want to end up like Lockhart.''

Having reached the castle, the group split and headed respectively for their houses' common rooms. They quickly changed into school robes and ran down school's corridors for their final one Welcoming Feast. The Great Hall was already crowded when they walked in. House ghosts were already floating alongside tables and greeting students. Luckily not all students and more importantly not all teachers were present. Walking towards the Gryffindor table Harry felt nearly everyone's eyes on him. And not all of them were friendly.

Ginny sat next to Harry. On the opposite side of the Gryffindor table sat Ron and Hermione, so that the quatro could comfortably talk during the feast.

''Slughorn hasn'r arrived yet,'' Hermione pointed out.

''Maybe he decided to skip the feast like Trelawney?'' Ron sighed dreamily, thinking about the appetising meals that were going appear in front of them. His stomach grumbled.

''No way, Slughorn loves attention,'' Harry reminded.

''You ate all those sweets and you're still hungry?'' Hermione visibly deflated and Ron only shrugged in response.

''Who is that elderly woman?'' Harry tilted his head towards teacher's table, trying to ignore Dennis Creevey's hostile glare, which was something new. Usually the boy had irritated Harry with a gaze full of admiration, perhaps even worse than his late brother's.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, analysing woman's features. ''I think I saw her,'' she said carefully.

''Yes, she does look familiar,'' Hermione pondered.

Ron snapped his fingers with his eyes filled with sudden enlightment. ''The battle of Hogwarts! She was fighting on our side!''

Ginny rolled her eyes. ''Well, obviously not on the Death Eaters' side, duh.''

Hermione looked incredulously at her boyfriend. ''Ron, you're right! What is she going to teach?''

''Transfiguration maybe?'' Ron offered nonchalantly, yet doing a poor job at hiding the satisfaction out of Hermione admiting he was right.

''Or DADA more likely,'' Harry suggested, but his voice was flooded by the sudden murmurs coming from all of the tables.

Harry glared with irritation at Ron who was pulling the end of Harry's sleeve through the table. ''Harry, what is he doing here? You said he was quitting!'' the red-head hissed.

Harry watched the familiar greasy-haired man with a large nose take a seat next to professor McGonagall. ''That's because he told me that,'' Harry whispered angrily, afraid of speaking louder. He wouldn't put it past the former spy to hear Harry's voice through the swarm of dissatisfied mutters. The mutters that had their origins simultaneously at the Gryffindor table, the Slytherin table, the Ravenclaw table and the Hufflepuff table.

Ron crossed his arms, not bothering to hide how offended he felt. ''We really shouldn't have helped him in the court.''

''Ron!'' Hermione scolded him.

Ron raised his hands, showing his helplessness. ''What, Hermione? He deceived Harry. He played a card of the victim and assured him he wasn't going to teach us to lure Harry into witnessing in his favour. And once he was acquitted – boom! He's in Hogwarts again! I knew he couldn't be trusted.''

''Is he going to teach us DADA or Potions?'' Ginny wondered aloud.

''Well, Slughorn still isn't here, so my bet is on Potions,'' Hermione reasoned.

Harry sceptically quirked an eyebrow. ''He hates the subject. He always wanted to teach DADA.''

Hermione made her typical know-it-all face. ''That's what Snape wanted everyone to think, but-''.

Their conversation was interrupted by the loud sound of chair and tables being moved around.

''Sorry, my bad, sorry. Forgive me. Had ter pick up the youngsters,'' Hagrid winced at the noise he made trying to fit between chairs and tables. ''Ma'am,'' he bowed politely towards the Headmistress, accidentally dipping his beard in professor Sprout's goblet, which earnt him laughter of the whole Great Hall.

McGonagall kept a straight face. ''Not a problem at all, Hagrid. Please, take a sit. I take it the new students shall arrive soon?''

''Yes, ma'am,'' the half-giant smiled awkwardly at the mess he'd made.

The professor of Care of Magical Creatures wasn't mistaken. Five, maybe ten minutes later eleven-year-olds started entering the Great Hall, with their eyes filled with amazement and fright. Harry coughed up a good-hearted laughter. He remembered standing there, waiting for the sorting ceremony to begin.

''Is everyone present?'' the Headmistress asked loudly.

''Yes. Yes, ma'am,'' Mr. Filch bowed grimacing uglily and closed the door.

''Very well, let us begin,'' McGonagall clapped her hands. ''My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts. First of all, I'd like to welcome our old students and our new students. I hope you are going to find our school like a home. A home that has suffered a terrible loss, still a home, nevertheless. Before we start the sorting ceremony, I would like to ask everyone to stand up and pay a respect to those who are not with us anymore, who bravely sacrificed their lives to put stop to Lord Voldemort's machinations.'' At the mention of the once-forbidden name some students winced, Ron included. After a minute of the entire Great Hall standing in silence, McGonagall nodded. ''Thank you. Shortly you will be sorted into one of four houses,'' she addressed the new students. ''There are no better or worse houses – each of them is equal. Each of them helps its members hone their skills and improve the best of their qualities. You should remember to remain loyal to your house – it will be like a family to you while you are away from your homes. However, that doesn't mean you should be disrespectful towards other houses. Other houses are not your enemies. Our school is one big community divided into four houses. I think it's the wisdom we all regretfully have forgotten. Furthermore, do not put your house above the school – if you see something wrong happening in your house, report it to your prefects or the head of your house,'' she got up, approached the podium at which the Sorting Hat was placed and unrolled the list of new students. ''Now the sorting ceremony shall begin. Drusilla Axley,'' she read out.

''Probably her parents changed their last name from Yaxley,'' Ron huffed. ''Cowards who want to hide their relation with Death Eaters.''

The girl sat on a stool with a scared expression. ''Hafflepuff!'' the Sorting Hat decided, gaining its an applause from Hafflepuff's table.

''Now, that's a surprise,'' Ron said drily.

After what felt like an eternity (filled with cheers from each of the tables), the line of newcomers emptied out and the Headmistress read out the final name. ''Tycho Zabini.''

''It's probably Zabini's brother,'' Ron scoffed.

Ginny shrugged. ''Or cousin.''

''Slytherin!'' the Sorting Hat announced.

Harry could see the hunger in Ron's eyes. Unfortunately for his friend now was the time for the Headmistress' speech as McGonagall took her place behind the Headmaster's podium. ''Once again, welcome! Now that everyone has their house, it is the right time to introduce our old staff members to new students and welcome new staff members. Please welcome Jocasta O'Cathail, new professor of Defense Against Dark Arts and new head of the Gryffindor house. Professor O'Cathail has a great knowledge of the subject as a retired Auror.''

Gryffindors cheered for their new head, or at least made a strong attempt at it. The majority seemed caught off guard by the discovery that the recently appointed Headmistress wasn't going act as their head anymore, even though it was rather expected. Harry's and Ron's dissatisfaction could by only matched by the sour look on Snape's face that he once again was missing his favourite post. McGonagall was strict, but during all those years she'd gained the trio's respect. In Harry's case the respect he had for her was strangely not away from something that could be called a respect towards mentor figure, he realised shocked.

''I am most pleased to announce Professor Snape is returning to teach Potions this year and resumes his position of the head of Slytherin,'' the Headmistress turned around and encouragingly smirked at her colleague and then quickly turned her scrutinising towards her students. Apparently not everyone was as pleased as Minerva McGonagall. Booing was audible in the Great Hall. While Slytherins appeared unusually quiet through the entirety of the feast, Gryffindors didn't shy away from voicing their opinion about their Potions Master. Harry noticed Dennis Creevey was especially vocal and was there any food on the table, he would have thrown it at younger Gryffindor to make him shut up. Some of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs weren't ecstatic to hear about Snape's return as well, but to significantly smaller degree than the Gryffindors. Harry couldn't recall being so ashamed by his house' behaviour. Sure, Snape was a git and a mean teacher, but he was also a hero! Shouldn't Gryffindors, famed for their bravery, appreciate that? Sensing her boyfriend's agitation, Ginny squeezed his hand.

''Professor Flitwick is our Charms professor and the head of Ravenclaw house. Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house, is going to teach Herbology.'' Then McGonagall introduced other professors, starting with Hagrid. ''Due to the recent events I also continue to teach the subject of Transfiguration. I do sincerely hope the next time we meet on the 1^st of September, a competent witch or wizard is going to take over the duties of the Transfiguration professor. Before we focus on meals prepared by our hard-working house elves, I have one more announcement to make and I expect you to listen closely,'' she demanded. ''The east wing of the castle remains closed since it is under reconstruction. No student is allowed to enter the construction site, from inside or outside of the castle, unless otherwise ordered by a teacher. And last but not least: enjoy the feast!'' she waved her wand and the dishes appeared on the tables.

Hermione slowly took a bowl of mashed potatoes and cast Ron a judging glance as he was eating two chicken legs at once. ''Wha? 'm 'ungry,'' Ron said with his mouth full of food.

Ginny looked at her brother and then at her boyfriend, whose hands were already covered in chicken grease. She took a bowl from Hermione and sighed theatrically. ''Men, I am right?''

Following the feast Ginny returned to the Gryffindor common room and the trio went to meet Hagrid. The four large cups indicated the half-giant was expecting them.

''Harry! Hermione! Ron!'' Hagrid opened up his arms to welcome the teenagers. ''How I missed yeh!''

Harry smiled brightly and the trio embraced the professor of Care of Magical Creatures. ''We missed you too,'' he assured.

''I was afraid yeh were goin' ter skip yer last year. I wouldn' blame yeh, but- well. It wouldn' be the same without yeh,'' Hagrid sniffed. ''Yeh gonna leave soon anyway.''

Hermione patted his forearm, not being able to pat his shoulder. ''Oh, Hagrid, we still have entire school year ahead of us.''

''Yes! And we will be sending you owls once we graduate,'' Ron offered.

Hagrid wiped his eyes. ''Yeh promise?''

''Of course, Hargid!'' Harry said softly.

''Fang, Fang!'' Ron tried to calm down the dog who was busy licking his face. ''Hagrid, tell him to leave me alone,'' he begged.

''Ah, poor Fang missed yeh too!'' Hagrid exhaled deeply and sat down. ''Yeh right, I'm an old fool.'' Then he turned around and opened a drawer in a counter behind the table. ''I've got somethin' ter celebrate our meetin','' he put on the table a bottle of some beverage. Then he looked at his dog, who now decided to lick Hermione. ''Fang, leave us alone.''

Hermione produced a handkerchief and wiped away dog's saliva from her face. Then she looked at the golden-coppery liquid. ''Is that-? Is that firewhisky?'' she asked warily.

''Sure it is!'' Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly. ''I kept it fer a special occassion!''

''Do you really think it's a good idea?'' she questioned.

Ron made a face. ''Hermione, don't be so stiff! We are adults.''

''Nevertheless, we shouldn't be drinking alcohol within school ground. It's against the rules!'' Hermione exclaimed.

''Yeh with me and I'm yer teacher. It's fine!'' Hagrid assured.

''Technically you are not our teacher-'' Hermione said.

Harry interrupted her. Hagrid had been deeply hurt when they decided not to take his subject and Harry didn't want to open up old wounds. ''I mean, Hagrid's got a point. Slughorn offered me and Ron some mead or wine-''

''And it was poisoned!'' Hermione reminded.

Hagrid made an offended face. ''Do yeh really think I'd give yeh poisoned firewhisky, Hermione?''

''No,'' Hermione shook her head sheepishly.

Hagrid uncorked the bottle and poured the drink into four large cups. The largest portion he poured into his own cup, naturally. They sipped the firewhisky and talked about various matters, reminiscing about the crazy adventured they'd had.

''Harry, yeh so quiet,'' Hagrid hiccupped.

The boy in glasses swirled his firewhisky in the large cup, watching its movement. He got caught up in the memory of tonight's Welcoming Feast. His fellow Gryffindors' behaviour made him want to curl up and die. Not to mention Snape boring his eyes into him the entire feast. Apparently Snape's view of Harry hasn't changed that much. He thought with a dread about the upcoming Potions classes.

''Harry?'' Ron asked, bringing Harry's thoughts back to earth.

Harry blinked and took a sip of firewhisky. ''Sorry. I'm just tired, I guess.''

Chapter Text

The crowd of unruly teenagers didn't seem too overjoyed to hear Severus was returning as their teacher. Good. It meant at least some matters were returning to normality. The constant flattery he's been receiving from his colleagues for the last four months was driving him crazy.

Taking into account the current state of affairs, he was aware guardianship over his Slytherins would be even more difficult this year – many of their parents were Death Eaters and Severus had betrayed them. Another thing was the rivalry between the houses. Severus' keen eyes required only few minutes to notice the rivalry has turned into enmity towards Slytherins. Naturally, he wasn't surprised with the turn of events, nevertheless, he added to his mental list a note to discuss the matter with the Headmistress. Antagonising one of the houses would do anyone no good.

As for new recruits of Hogwarts' houses, Severus was mildly interested in the Sorting Ceremony. The queue of young wizards and witches anxiously waiting for their turn and Sorting Hat's verdict was the same every year. The joy or disappointment on kids' faces were similar too. He had experienced the feeling as well, when the Hat had separated him from Lily. He chose not to dwell on what could have been had the Hat decided otherwise, even though Dumbledore's statement that maybe young witches and wizards were sorted too soon echoed in his mind.

The Sorting Ceremony reminded him of the moment he had seen The-Boy-Who-Lived for the first time. The brat had been naturally sorted into Gryffindor. A rather obvious choice – both of his parents were Gryffindors. The Sorting Hat had a tendency of sorting whole families into the same house. The Weasleys traditionally were Gryffindors, while Blacks and Malfoys were Slytherins. Sometimes, however, the mad Hat seemingly decided onto pranking everyone by dividing families. Those decisions often had a tragic ending. Maybe Hogwarts would have been a better place without sorting students into houses based on their alleged qualities according to a verdict of an ancient hat.

Severus recalled the memory he had seen during an Occlumency lesson. The memory of the Sorting Hat suggesting that Potter could have been sorted into Slytherin. Severus was relieved the Hat had been talked out of making that decision. However, the memory made him question whether the Sorting Hat could be aware of his and Potter's possible blood relation. Had the Hat considered putting the brat into Slytherin based upon Severus' own alignment? Or maybe it had felt the piece of Dark Lord's soul within the boy?

And when it came to brat... Severus observed the teenager attentively. He has watched the boy for the last seven years. It was unlikely he had missed something that could affirm what he had seen in the spilled potion. Despite that, he had to try.

---

Wednesday started with Charms. Harry had thought sixth year was a torture. Now he had re-evaluate his statement – it was only the first week of the new school year and he was already questioning if he would be able to survive it. What was even worse, his classmates were giving him expectant looks during classes. He's only achieved an Exceeds Expectations in Charms. Hermione was way better, why was everyone looking at him as if he had acquired some ancient knowledge?

Frankly, they weren't his classmates, but Ginny's. His classmates had known his strengths and weaknesses, and during so many years spent with Harry, they had noticed The-Boy-Who-Lived wasn't the top student. Unfortunately, Harry's classmates, except for Ron and Hermione, had already graduated and he was left with a mixed group of Gryffindors and Slytherins who expected of him some miraculous deeds when he was failing at casting the Anti-Alohomora charm. Alohomora was so much easier than the charm to prevent it.

Hermione nailed the charm on her second try, which came as a surprise to no one. Meanwhile, Ron on his third attempt at the charm accidentally sent the lock flying across the classroom, making it hit professor Flitwick's forehead. The whole classroom fell silent for a moment, but as it quickly turned out their teacher was fine, started laughing.

During the break after the Charms, Damelza Robbins apprehended him as he was climbing the ever-changing stairs. ''Harry! What a surprise! We all thought you wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts,'' she smiled.

''Yeah, I'm surprised too, but Hermione made me finish my education,'' he joked.

''Oh, she's here too?''

Harry nodded. ''And Ron.''

''Cool!'' Damelza clapped. ''So, you'll be rejoining our Quidditch team?''

Harry smiled brightly. ''I'd love to! Ron too, I'm sure. Is trainings' date set?''

''Yes, Ginny wants them on Friday afternoon. She said she was done with getting up at 5 A.M. for trainings,'' she laughed.

Harry forrowed his eyebrows. ''Ginny?''

Damelza blinked and then covered her mouth with her hand, half-startled, half trying to surpress her laughter. ''What, you don't know? I thought she told you! She's your girlfriend, right?''

''Yes, so what?''

''Ginny's our new captain!''

Harry didn't know what to say. ''That's great, but-uh...''.

''Oh, don't be offended. We didn't know you'd be returning. We didn't have a captain last year, because, well, you know, Quidditch was banned and you weren't here, anyway. We had to choose someone.''

Harry bit his lips. ''Right. I'll let Ron know about the training.''

However Ron wasn't the first person he wanted to see. He rushed towards the terrace, where he spotted his friends and girlfriend sitting under a tree.

''Why you didn't tell me?'' he stared angrily at Ginny.

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. ''Tell you what?''

''That you were assigned a new captain of our Quidditch team?'' Harry sat next to her.

Ron burst out laughing. ''Ginny? A captain?''

Ginny crossed her arms. ''And what is so funny about it? Maybe you try being a captain? Do you think I'm not suitable for the job?''

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''Oh, Ron, you can be so narrow-minded.''

''It's not that,'' he raised his arms in a mock-surrender. ''But we've got Harry and he was the captain!''

''Look, Harry,'' Ginny softened her voice. ''I didn't know how to tell you. They asked me like a week ago via owl mail and I couldn't really say 'no'. I wanted to tell you, but...'' she sighed. ''I know it's a touchy subject to you. We could make new arrangements and make you the captain. But I really want that, you know?'' she added somewhat embarrassed.

Harry had the decency to feel awkward. ''It's not that. I'm happy for you and I'm sure you'd make a wonderful captain.''

''Really?'' Ginny's eyes lit up. ''I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid right now.''

''As you should,'' Ron theatrically whispered.

''Ronald!'' Hermione hissed, not too strongly hitting his head with her Ancient Runes book.

''Really. But maybe tell me next time, OK?'' Harry said and Ginny curled into his side.

''Ron, we've got training on Friday, 5 P.M. Don't be late,'' she warned her brother.

After the break they headed for the green house for Herbology classes. Professor Sprout welcomed them with a bright smile on her good-hearted plump face. ''It's heart-warming to see all of you back at school after the last trying year. I'm so happy to see some old faces return for their final year of magical education,'' her eyes sparkled at the corners as she looked at the trio. ''Now,'' she put a pot with a flower on the table and cleaned her hands against her dirty robe. ''Today we'll be covering asphodel. Who can tell us something about the plant?''

Harry looked at the flower. It seemed so delicate. The broken white petals gave it some otherwordly aura. He wished Neville was here – Herbology was Neville's favourite subject, after all.

Hermione's arm shoot up in the air. ''Yes, Ms. Granger?''

Hermione took a deep breath. ''Asphodel used to be included in the lily family, but currently it is considered a lily's relative. Ancient Greeks associated it with Persephone and therefore with the underworld, death and mourning. The connection was not only coined by muggles as asphodel is an ingredient for the Draught of the Living Death.''

''Excellent, Ms. Granger! Five points to Gryffindor!'' professor Sprout smiled. ''I shouldn't probably tell you this, it's rude to gossip about your colleagues, but well,'' she waved her hand dismissively. ''I have you know it also happens to be one of favourite potion ingredients of professor Snape. Now, take a pot with an asphodel.''

Carring the pot to his spot at the table, Harry pondered on what he'd heard. Now it made sense why Snape had asked him about ingredients for the Draught of the Living Death during his very first Potions classes. If asphodel was his favourite ingredient, then probably the Draught of the Living Death was his favourite potion. Which made sense, considering Snape had improved the recipe in his copy of Potions handbook.

''Oi!'' Ron barked at him. ''You're gonna make me trip!''

Harry looked down and saw his foot on the edge of Ron's robe. ''Sorry,'' he ducked his head.

Harry put down the pot on the table and caressed the petal of the flower. It was soft. Indeed, the flower looked like a lily. He wondered why it was no longer thought to be a lily, only a mere relative. It didn't look like a typical lily, alright, but since it had magical use, maybe it was some kind of magical lily that was common enough to reach muggle settlements? And then he gasped in realisation.

''What is it, Harry?'' Ginny looked at him questioningly, maybe even slightly concerned.

Harry sent her a weak smile. ''No, nothing. I just remembered something. It's not important, anyway.'' If asphodel was a type of lily or its relative, did Snape like it so much, because it reminded him of Harry's mum? The thought brought a pang of sadness to his chest.

''Asphodel has many uses. Not only its root is a valuable ingredient. Petals, leaves and even stalks can be found in various potions. Today we will learn how to extract a root of asphodel,'' professor Sprout went on, ignorant to Harry's unexpected epiphany.

Harry looked hesitantly at the flower. To extract its root meant to kill it. For the first time since his very first Herbology he felt sorry he had to massacre a plant. It was sad all beauty was apparently ephemeral. He felt quite ridiculous having second thoughts about cutting a plant. It was only a plant, it couldn't feel pain! He had fed Hagrid's creatures with living animals, for crying out loud. He closed his eyes and with a grimace on his face cut off of flower part of the plant. Hermione had no such reservations, dutifully sectioning the plant.

On Thursday they had their first DADA with professor O'Cathail. The woman looked sternly at Harry and Ron arriving maybe three minutes late to the classes. ''You might be thinking you've learnt everything there is to learn from your Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum. You have fought during the battle of Hogwarts, after all. You are mistaken,'' she said in a monotonous voice. ''During this year you will learn spells you wish you knew during the battle. Luckily, since it's your last year, you don't have to concern yourself with the question if I'll live to teach you the following year. Yes, I am aware you've had different teacher of this subject each year. I am also aware the level presented by them was somewhat... uneven. I have discussed with professor Snape the matters you were covering two years ago when he was teaching the subject. He informed me of the shortcomings of some of my predecessors.''

Frankly, Harry wasn't too thrilled with professor O'Cathail's teaching method. He'd expected more action from a former Auror. However, it seemed that the elderly woman enjoyed lenghty monologues on the matter of spells and counterspells, giving plenty of background information on their inventors. She was also very strict about the time when the classes should begin and not so strict about the time when it should end, as she prolonged her classes by nearly ten minutes.

The awareness this woman was their current Head of the house was dreadful. Professor McGonagall was strict as well, but she had a particular charm to it.

The Friday afternoon was wholly dedicated to Quidditch by Ginny, Harry and Ron to Hermione's dismay. The bookworm insisted on reminding them they had one eight-inch, three ten-inch and one twelve-inch papers to write. However, they had much more urgent matter to attend – the team was missing a chaser.

The queue of young Gryffindors willing to join their team was long. Maybe the abnormal interest in Quidditch, which usually was high, was a way to forget about the war and losses? Or maybe students missed Quidditch after a year-long ban? Either way, they had to test all of the participants.

The first one to try was a scrawny dark-skinned boy. He couldn't be older than fourteen. He could fly fast but cooperation with his fellow chasers wasn't his forte. He threw the Quaffle in such a way, no one knew if it was intended for Ginny or for Damelza to catch.

There was a bunch of second-years Harry hasn't seen before. They looked so fragile Harry was afraid a poorly thrown Quaffle could damage their faces. That made him wonder why the hell anyone had allowed him to join the team when he had been eleven. For eighteen-year old Harry the idea seemed reckless.

A third-year girl would have broken her neck if not for the cushioning charm cast by Ginny.

It was past 8 P.M. when they finished auditioning the volunteers. Harry just felt like falling flat to the soft grass.

''And what do you think?'' Ginny approached Harry.

''That blonde was pretty good,'' he tilted his head towards a sixth-year guy sitting on the gallery.

''I liked that girl,'' she nodded towards a fifth-year student of Asian descent.

''Her?'' Harry frowned. ''She's got a lot to learn.''

''Yes, but she's got potential. I think we should give her a chance,'' Ginny shrugged.

''Based on what?'' Ron interrupted the couple. ''We're not kindergarden. We've got a season to win!''

''Uuuh,'' Ginny sighed tiredly. ''I'm gonna ask the rest,'' she left and joined Damelza, who was talking with Ritchie Coote.

Ron eyed his sister suspiciously. ''What's up with her?'' he whispered and Harry shrugged in response. In truth, he had to admit he saw the potential in that girl too, but she reminded him too much of Cho, not that he could admit it to Ginny.

After few minutes Ginny waived at Harry and Ron to join the rest of the team. ''Guys, meet Lan Nga Anh, our new chaser.''

The girl awkwardly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ''Just Lan is fine.''

''Lan, this is Harry,'' Ginny pointed at Harry. ''My boyfriend. And this is Ron, my annoying brother,'' she glanced at Ron.

''Hi! Nice to meet you,'' Lan smiled.

Weekend has ended too soon, as weekends tend to do. On Monday the dreaded double Potions finally arrived. The snarky Potions Master energetically walked in with his hands clasped behind his back and his black robes billowing behind him. ''This is your final year. I hope there is no need to remind you of your goal, which is achieving your Potions N.E.W.T. I can reasonably assume if it were not the case you would not be here,'' he turned around to face the class. ''Normally, I would have informed you I would be most disappointed if you achieved anything below 'Outstanding', as this is the proficiency I expect from my N.E.W.T.-level students. Regretfully, we are not operating in the standard circumstances. As you might be aware, some of you would not had qualified for this course had I taught you Potions all this time,'' his gaze landed on Ron and Harry. ''However, the Headmistress persuaded me to uphold professor Slughorn's abysmal criteria for one more year and therefore accept anyone who had reached at least 'Exceeds Expectations' at their Ordinary Wizarding Level.''

Ron leant to the left and whispered into Harry's ear. ''That scar is awful! I didn't get the chance to get a close look at it during the trial or the feast.''

Harry was about to argue that it was obvious the scar that was a result of skin having been torn not by a mere snake but by Nagini herself wouldn't have healed nicely, but Snape spoke instead. ''Ah, yes,'' he said unamused. ''The fearsome day that I have to deal with two Weasleys in one classroom once again has arrived. Weasley,'' he hissed nearly in a sing-song. ''Do you have anything to share with the classroom? And if you need clarification, the question is meant for you, Ronald Weasley, not for your sister.''

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair. ''No, sir,'' he swallowed.

''Then keep your thoughts to yourself. And if they are so important and you are afraid they will slip your mind, write them down for later,'' Snape said flatly. Then he turned around and started noting down the recipe for a potion on the blackboard.

Harry was determined to fully focus on the potion. He glanced at Hermione, whose potion gained pale greenish colour as instructed in point 3. Meanwhile his own had a strange shade of purple-dark blue, which was still better than Ron's, he supposed, as his friend's potion was swampy brown. Ginny's potion gained pretty, yet completely incorrect turquoise colour.

Back in the day, Malfoy would have already made fun of Harry's potion, prompting all the Slytherins to laugh at him. But Draco wasn't here – he was sitting in the Malfoy manor, serving his house arrest. Snape, on the other hand, was very much present and able to make a snarky comment about Harry's skills. However, Snape simply sat behind his desk, crossed his arms and observed.

Similarly to the Welcoming Feast, Harry had a feeling Potions Master's black irises were trying to pierce through Harry's very soul, which, frankly, didn't make the task of brewing the potion any easier. Still, to Harry's surprise the man made no comment, even when he got up ten minutes before the end of the lesson to inspect his students' cauldrons. Walking past Harry's pitiful attempt at the potion, Snape only grimaced and kept walking.

As Harry was putting the potion Snape's desk, he was fully convinced it was going to end like it had after Harry had seen Snape's worst memory. To his greatest surprise Snape slightly raised an eyebrow upon seeing the result. Harry knew the potion was awful and by all means Snape had the right to laugh at it or make a comment out loud, like he had so many times. But he didn't. He didn't even knock over the potion, like he had after Harry had looked into the Pensieve with Snape's memories. And in a way that was much more frightening and eerie than any insult he had received from the teacher.

Chapter Text

The first lesson of Potions confirmed Severus' assumption – Potter hadn't learnt a thing during his year with Horace Slughorn as his teacher. And if he miraculously had, he apparently had already forgotten everything during his escapade. The brat had owned Severus' copy of Advanced Potion-Making for almost a year and the only thing he remembered from the reading was damned Sectumsempra. Potter truly shouldn't be allowed to take a N.E.W.T.-level Potions course. But then, if he wasn't allowed, Severus wouldn't have such an easy access to the boy.

Severus introduced his students to a new potion during the next lesson. ''Today we are going to cover an extremely advanced potion – Veritarevelans,'' he spoke calmly walking across the classroom. ''It is a potion of Veritae kind, which consist of Veritaserum and Veritavisus. While Veritaserum, commonly called a truth potion, which you covered last year, forces the drinker to answer any and all questions truthfully, and Veritavisus grants the drinker a true vision, therefore the ability to see through the majority of concealing charms, Veritarevelans is a liquid verity indicator. Once a sample of examined material is dropped into the potion, Veritarevelans accordingly changes its colour. Unlike other Veritae potions, the secret to Veritarevelans potency lies not in the time of its maturing but the accuracy of preparation of ingredients and the stirring pattern.'' He stopped to look at the class. As usually, some students were fascinated, while other were already counting minutes until the double Potions ended. This year, however, there was a new addition to the mix of students' reactions – brats pretending they weren't staring at the scar on his neck.

Severus was well aware he never could have been called handsome or in any measure attractive. In his teenhood his greasy hair, large nose and crooked teeth had been reasons behind his innermost complex. As an adult wizard he could find a potion or spell to improve his hair condition or straighten his teeth, but as he had matured, he had stopped caring about his looks. When he started teaching his disagreeable appearance actually came in handy – brats were even more scared of him, which helped Severus to keep those dunderheads disciplined. And if the price for that were not so sophisticated jokes about his hair, like the ones made on Potterwatch, so be it.

Naturally, during his reign as the Headmaster Severus had been aware of the existence of the radio programme and listened to it from time to time to get an update on Potter's progress. Passwords had been childishly easy and Severus had been utterly disappointed in Kingsley Shacklebolt having chosen a 'Royal' for his codename. The spy hadn't been surprised Jordan and Lupin hadn't been clever about their own codenames, but he had expected better from the Auror. All in all, those idiots who had thought they had been a serious a resistance should have been glad high rank Death Eaters had had more important matters on their minds and low rank Death Eaters had been too stupid to figure the password system out.

Severus closed his eyes and waited two seconds before opening them again. He was greeted by a sight he'd expected to see – Hermione Granger's raised hand. He ignored her, making girl's expression grow even more determined. Instead, he turned his attention to raised hand of one of his Slytherins. ''Yes, Brownleek?''

''Professor, couldn't a Sneakoscope be used instead?'' teenager asked.

Snape eyed him judgingly. ''Brownleek, do you own a Sneakoscope?''

Student lowered her head embarrassed. ''No, sir.''

''Neither do I,'' Severus spoke calmly. ''Sneakoscopes can be manipulated by a skilled wizard. Meanwhile, I have not met a wizard capable of deceiving Veritarevelans yet.''

Granger waved her raised hand, nearly jumping in her seat, not able to contain herself. Severus turned around and started noting down the recipe for the potion on the blackboard. Only when he was done, he decided to pay attention to the girl. He knew what she was going to say. Out of the merry group of Potter's friends without any doubt she had the most brains, but she could be painfully predictable. ''What is it, Granger?''

The relief on girl's face was even more annoying than her raised hand. ''Professor, Veritarevelans isn't part of our curriculum.''

''A cunning observation, Granger,'' Severus deadpanned. ''However, I highly doubt anyone can deny the usefulness of the potion, especially considering the events of last few years.''

''Well, maybe if anyone had used the potion, a Death Eater wouldn't have been allowed to teach us!'' one of Gryffindors yelled.

Severus' face took the most strict and vile expression it could take. His eyes narrowed hatefully. In the corners of his vision he saw Potter and Granger turning pale, Ronald Weasley's shocked expression, his sister trying to hide under the desk and Slytherins covering their mouth – some making poor attempts at hiding their smirks, some in horror. ''Purflor, twenty points from Gryffindor!'' he hissed spitefully. ''Now leave the classroom and head for the Headmistress' office. I am sure she is going to be overjoyed to hear of an outstanding bravery of one of her Gryffindors,'' his voice was venomously laced with sarcasm.

Eusebius Purflor got up with a loud creak of his chair. ''Murderer!'' he called as he opened the door, which he closed with a loud slam.

''Thirty points from Gryffindor!'' Severus called, sure the student heard it through the closed door. ''Well, well, Gryffindors are going for the record this year, I see. And I thought nothing worse could happen to that house than the Weasley twins.'' As he spoke it, Ronald Weasley glared at him hatefully and Ginevra Weasley looked away with anger flickering in her eyes, but none of them said anything.

As the double Potions' end was nearing, Severus took a walk around the classroom to examine the results. The potion was difficult, so he wasn't surprised only Granger and one of his Slytherins were able to achieve a correct outcome. ''Stash your potions away – you are going to finish them next week. For next classes I want you to prepare an eleven-inch paper on Veritarevelans,'' he announced as students were reading to leave the classroom. Soon the noise of chairs creaking against the floorboard and teenagers' chatter filled the space. ''Potter, you stay,'' Severus ordered firmly.

The boy looked longingly at his friends, who waved at him and assured him they were going to catch him later, and sighed tiredly, dropping his rucksack to the floor.

''I want you to brew Veritarevelans again. This time correctly,'' Severus looked in the green eyes, so similar to hers.

Harry glanced at his cauldron and then at his teacher. ''Uh, it's not ready yet, sir,'' he wrinkled his nose.

''An astute observation, Potter,'' Severus said flatly. ''However, as an experienced Potions Master I can already tell the only purpose your potion can serve is being thrown away.''

''What for? Like Hermione said, it's not in our curriculum, sir,'' the boy furrowed his eyebrows.

''Because I ask you to, Potter,'' Severus said harshly. He didn't have the patience for this brat.

''But, sir, I've got Transfiguration!'' the brat protested.

Severus clasped his hands. ''From what I have gathered next classes in seventh year Gryffindor-Slytherin schedule are Divination, followed by Arithmancy. As far as I am concerned you are not attending any of these courses. Therefore your break before Transfiguration is long enough for you to brew another potion and arrive on time for your next classes. However, I am amenable and can offer you Friday, 4 P.M. instead.''

''We've got Quidditch on Friday afternoons!'' Gryffindor had the audacity to clench his fists. ''Sir.''

''Then make a choice. Just don't make me wait for too long, Potter,'' the Potions Master urged.

Potter clenched and unclenched his fists several times. ''I-I'll do it now.''

''Very well. You know what to do, I assume.''

Severus stood in front of the boy's desk with his arms crossed. He watched him cut and grind ingredients. He arched his eyebrow, looking expectantly at the boy as he was rasing his hand to add a pinch of powdered unicorn horn, making the boy to retreat his hand and grab shredded lebbage leaf instead. Severus slightly nodded. The boy stirred three times to the left and his hand hesitated.

''What do you think you are doing, Potter?''

''Um, stirring, sir?'' Potter looked somewhat confused at his teacher.

''And how do you stir now?'' Severus asked mockingly.

''Uh, right?'' the boy started looking around as if it could help him in any way.

Severus sighted tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. ''Sweet Merlin... No! Straight up through the centre of the cauldron!''

Potter's shoulders sagged. ''Sorry, sir, it's just stressful when you're observing me all the time!''

''Stressful, Potter?'' Severus took a step towards his student. ''You are aspiring to make a career in one of the most stressful professions there are and you are telling me my presence is too stressful for you? Let me tell you, Potter, why Aurors are expected to demonstrate proficiency in Potioneering. Potions like Veritarevelans are Aurors' bread-and-butter. Think about your life or someone's life depending on your expertise in the area of potions. What if you can't recognise a potion on time? What if you can't come up with an antitode on time? I can assure you such an eventuality is going to be immeasurably more stressful.''

The-Boy-Who-Lived gulped. ''Yes, I suppose you are right, sir.''

''I am glad we are on the same page,'' Severus said drily. ''Now return to Veritarevelans.''

Once the boy was done, the liquid inside his cauldron was colourless.

''Now put it away for the next week,'' Severus commanded.

''May I go now?'' Potter asked unusually meekly for himself.

''Yes, you may,'' Severus huffed. ''Don't forget about your assignment, Potter!'' he added.

---

Harry was running out of breath, but managed to arrive on time for his Transfiguration classes.

''What took you so long, mate?'' Ron jabbed Harry with his elbow as he joined them in front of the Transfiguration classroom.

''Snape. He wanted me to brew the potion again,'' Harry huffed.

''Why?'' Ginny rolled her eyes. ''It couldn't have been worse than Ron's.''

''Hey!'' Ron protested, but he couldn't argue further as McGonagall opened the door.

''Take your sits,'' Headmistress ordered without further ado. ''Today we begin your final year of the Transfiguration course. It is going to be even more challenging than your the sixth year. In late may you are going to take an exam that is going to shape your future. As your Headmistress I expect the highest marks from you. All of you,'' she threateningly pointed her wand at her students. ''Both Gryffindors and Slytherins. Now, open your books on page five. Today we will focus on transforming toads into toadstools.''

The task was much more difficult than at first seemed. Of course Hermione's toad turned into an exemplary toadstool that stood still and made no sound.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks, recalling Hermione's mushroom-based cusine during their escapade and cringing at the memory of the taste, got to work.

A bubble appeared underneath skin on Ginny's transfigured mushroom's cap. It quickly expanded and collapsed, producing a toad-like croak. Meanwhile Harry's toadstool was jumping around his desk and Ron's mushroom caught a fly with a tongue.

Back in the Gryffindor common room Ron was begging Hermione to let him copy her Charms assignment.

''You would have your paper done if you hadn't spent the whole weekend lazing!'' she exclaimed.

Ron stared puppy-eyed at her. ''Hermione, please! Weekend is meant for resting!''

Hermione barked out a laughter, clearly in disagreement regarding that statement. ''Then you had Friday.''

''We have Quidditch on Fridays!'' Ron protested.

Hermione put the book she was reading on the arm chair. ''Well, maybe you should focus on your priorities instead of wasting your time,'' she bit back.

''Quidditch isn't a waste of time,'' this time it was Ginny's turn to voice her objection.

Hermione leant back against the backrest of the arm chair and picked up the book again. ''If you say so...'' she turned a page.

''You can take mine,'' Harry offered to avoid another squabble.

Ron sighed relieved. ''Thanks, mate. You're a life-saver.''

A rustle of paper resonated in the air. ''There will be days there will be no one to make your job for you, Ron,'' Hermione said in a voice that suggested she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

---

Severus dedicated the next double Potions with seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors to making sure Potter didn't ruin Veritarevelans once again.

''Lets put the result of your efforts to test. Drop your hair into the potion,'' Severus ordered. Potter looked at him warily, but upon noticing Potions Master's mind was set, he pulled out a single hair and dropped it into the cauldron. The liquid bubbled as if it was boiling and changed its colour to bright green. Meanwhile contents of Ronald Weasley's cauldron bubbled furiously and spilled on the desk.

''Weasley, I think it means you are a fraud!'' one of Slytherins called.

Severus spotted few students dropping each others' hair into each others' cauldrons, laughing about results, sometimes quite explosive.

''Acceptable,'' Severus said flatly, looking at Potter's outcome, pretending he was less interested in the content of Potter's cauldron than he really was. Now he knew the boy's phenotype wasn't forged by some advanced disguise charm. How could the boy he his when he looked like a copy of James Potter? However, one examination wasn't enough. While Veritarevelans presented arguments for the thesis of the Bloodline potion being faulty, it didn't completely rule out the possibility of it being accurate. Severus needed to conduct further research.

''Potter, stay,'' Severus intertwined his fingers and rested them agaist his abdomen. He waited until the only people in the classroom were him and the child he might have fathered. ''I have an offer to make. As I am afraid the Auror department in its current state is not going to resist the temptation of welcoming the saviour of the wizardkind, inspite of his dire lack of mastery in potions, I will give you private Potions lessons, so that you don't get yourself killed during the first year of Auror training. Lessons will take place in this classroom on Friday 4 P.M.''

''I've told you, sir, I've got Quidditch on Fridays!'' Potter reminded.

''Well, maybe you should consider professional Quidditch player career instead, in that case,'' Severus said unamused.

The brat scratched the back of his neck. ''Do you have to give you the answer now?''

''So you do require more time to make a decision that could potentially impact the rest of your life?'' Severus arched an eyebrow. ''A reasonable request. Alright, I will give you the time to consider your answer. I want to learn about your decision by Thursday, am I clear, Potter?''

''As day, sir,'' the boy nodded.

---

Harry joined his friends on their way to terrace about fifteen minutes later. His hair was absolutely disheveled from running.

''What that boor wanted from you again?'' Ron nagged. ''Brew another warily-something?''

''Veritarevelans,'' Hermione corrected her boyfriend, fixing her grip on her books.

Ron snorted impatiently. ''I get why the truth serum is important, but the other veri-uh, something, potions are useless! You can use a Sneakoscope instead or something like Moody's mad eye and you don't have to waste your time on potions!''

Hermione eyed him judgingly. ''Have you done your assignment at all? These potions are nothing like a Sneakoscope!''

Ron stopped in his tracks to dramatically cross his arms. ''I have. And I would have done it better if you had let me use yours, Hermione!''

''That's my point! First you wanted to copy Charms, then Potions! If you put any effort into your homework you would have noticed Snape gave us an improved recipe. Normally it takes for Veritarevelans ten days to mature, not seven! I thought you'd like to know since you admired Half-Blood Prince' recipies so much.''

''Oh, great, Snape made shitty potion less shitty,'' Ron rolled his eyes. ''And still used it to torment Harry. I told you, Harry, you shouldn't have trusted the greasy bat.''

Harry shifted from one foot to another. ''Yeah, about that... Snape actually called me this time to offer me extra Potions lessons.'' Hermione gasped loudly.

Ron looked at his friend sceptically. ''Extra Potions as in 'Occlumency'?''

''No. Extra Potions as in extra potions.''

''Harry, that's wonderful!'' Hermione's face brightened at the thought of opportunities opening in front of Harry.

Ron wrinkled his nose as if something stinking appeared in front of him ''No, that's terrible.''

Seeing Ron's bewildered expression, Harry elaborated. ''He thinks I won't managed passing N.E.W.T. on my own. That I will be accepted into Auror training programme only because I defeated Voldemort.''

Ron waved his hand dismissively. ''Ignore the git.''

Hermione put his arm in front of Ron as if she was trying to stop him. ''Don't listen to Ron, Harry. Take the opportunity!''

Ginny glanced at Hermione. ''Do you think Harry won't manage on his own?''

''What? No! But getting help can't hurt. Face it, Harry, you are not exactly known for your expertise in Potions...''

''Come on, Hermione! I bet Tonks wasn't great at Potions either and she became an Auror without Snape's help,'' Ron pointed out.

''And what do you think, Ginny?'' Harry turned to face his girlfriend.

Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. ''I'm sure you will achieve your Potions N.E.W.T even without Snape's help. But if it will put your mind at ease, accept the offer.''

Harry looked down at his shoes. ''But he wants the lessons to take place on Friday afternoons. Even if I manage to leave early, I'll always be late for Quidditch.''

Ginny inhaled sharply. ''As the captain of Quidditch team I'd like to see you on trainings, but as your girlfriend I want the best for you. And only you can decide what is the best for you.''

Hermione protested. ''Are you mad? It's obvious Potions are more important right now!'' Harry hated Hermione's stance on Quidditch and Harry's career opportunities was so similar to Snape's.

''Hermione,'' Ron moaned, begging her to stop.

''Speaking of N.E.W.T.s,'' Ginny cleared her throat and changed the subject. ''Have you heard last year's seventh-years will be taking their exams in early October? It will be nice to see Neville again, won't it?''

''Oh, I wonder how Neville is doing,'' a dreamy voice spoke from behind Harry's back. The group stared at Luna, wondering how she got there unnoticed. Cherry earrings were dangling from her ears. ''You should be regretting not attending the Care of Magical Creatures,'' Luna suddenly spoke. ''Hagrid showed us Occamy last week. Interesting creatures, even if not as interesting as Crumple-Horned Snorkack.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, but a glance from Ron stopped her from reminding their friend once more that Crumple-Horned Snorkack didn't exist.

---

Harry took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and knocked on the door of Snape's office.

''Come in,'' replied the silky voice.

Harry pressed the doorknob and cautiously moved his foot past the threshold.

''Potter,'' Snape, who was putting some ingredients on the shelves, turned around to face his student. ''You came here in regard to my recent offer, I presume?'' Harry nodded in response, earning a weary exhale from the teacher.

Oh, yes, Snape didn't like non-verbal signals, Harry recalled and cleared his throat. ''Yes, sir,'' he amended himself.

''And what your answer might be, Potter?'' former spy's voice was unusually... well, if it weren't Snape, Harry might have even called it friendly. Maybe Snape wanted to bury the hatched and move on?

''Well... um,'' Harry looked at Snape's shoulder to avoid looking him into eyes. Maybe he wouldn't notice he wasn't directly looking at him if Harry's gaze was focused on something so close to Snape's face. ''First of all, I wanted to thank you for your offer. I appreciate it, really, and the other thin-''

''Do not beat around the bush,'' Snape interrupted. ''I am afraid we don't have the time for that.''

Harry coughed to hide his embarrassment. ''Yes, right. So, uhm, I'm not taking extra Potions lessons, but as I said, I'm grateful for the offer, sir. I believe I can prepare for Potions N.E.W.T. on my own, like every other student.'' Seeing Snape's not entirely convinced expression, Harry went on. ''I assure you, I'll work harder on Potions and I'll be doing my assignments. Sir.''

''Is that your final word?'' Snape asked patiently, unsettlingly so.

''Yes,'' Harry nodded hesitantly, subconsciously awaiting an outburst from his teacher.

Snape sceptically eyed his student. ''I hope you are not going to regret your decision, Potter.'' Then he glared once more at currently silent teenager. ''Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Potter?''

Harry shook his head. ''No, sir.''

''Then you might leave,'' Snape voice was no longer welcoming.

Harry swallowed. ''Yes, um.'' He spun on his heel and headed for the exit, unaware of the Potions Master gritting his teeth behind his back.

---

As Harry was walking down the corridor, he felt someone bump into his shoulder, nearly making him drop his books. He turned around to see who walked into him and saw Dennis Creevey. ''Oh, sorry, Dennis, I haven't noticed you,'' he spoke conciliatorily.

''Not a problem,'' Dennis answered, but Harry heard the lack of sincerity of his voice. ''I knew you wouldn't notice me if you didn't bump into me.''

Harry looked at his fellow Gryffindor somewhat startled. ''I don't think I follow.''

''I know that. You've never paid attention to me or Colin. We were nuisance to you,'' Dennis sneered.

''What? No. Dennis, look, I know you are hurt, but-''

''But what?!'' the younger Gryffindor pushed him.

''Stop it,'' Harry was losing his patience. ''Dennis, stop it!'' he swatted away younger boy's hands as he trying to push him again.

''Or what?'' Dennis dared.

''What is your deal?!'' Harry yelled, finally losing it.

Younger boy was panting. ''Don't pretend you don't know! You had let Colin die and then you defended Death Eaters! Some saviour of the wizardkind you are!''

''What are you talking about? I've never asked anyone to die for me! McGonagall forbade students under seventeen from battling. It was his choice not to obey!'' Harry was deeply hurt by the accusation. Even more so that so many people had died because of him – some because they willingly sacrificed their lives, like his parents, some because they simply happened to be in wrong place, like Cedric. ''And I've never defended Death Eaters!''

''Oh, yeah, so witnessing in favour of Draco and Snape wasn't defending Death Eaters?'' Dennis mocked.

''Dumbledore wanted to spare Draco,'' Harry firmly pointed out. ''And I'm sure he wanted to spare Snape too. Besides, Snape isn't a Death Eater! He was found not guilty.''

''Suuure, because the Dark Mark appeared on his forearm out of nowhere,'' Dennis made a face. ''The Wizengamot was so convinced of his innocence that he won only because of three more votes in his favour. And now that Death Eater is walking free and teaching us instead of rotting away in Azkaban, thanks to you.''

''He was operating under Dumbledore's orders,'' Harry's grip on his books tightened.

''And you believe that, because he claims he loved your mum?'' Dennis snorted. ''If I were you, I'd be ashamed such a scumbag had any feelings for my mother.''

''Do not bring my mum into this!'' Harry warned. He wouldn't let anyone speak in such a way about his parents. How Dennis could suggest there was something vile in such a pure affection? Snape was a git, but he'd nearly lost his life due to his selfless need to honour Lily Potter. ''Leave me alone! Annoy the Wizengamot instead. It was them who made the decision. Besides, do I need to remind you Draco's was found guilty?''

''Sooo guilty he's spending only a year not even in Azbakan, but in his own home! And wait for this – his dad, a renowned Death Eater was sentenced to five years of house arrest and his mum three years of house arrest. It's a joke, not justice!'' Dennis threw his hands up.

''I wasn't even present during their trials, Dennis!'' Harry roared.

Dennis pushed Harry once more, this time strongly enough for Harry to lose his balance. ''Right, because the bloody saviour of the wizardkind isn't responsible for anything!''

''Get lost, Dennis!'' Ron arrived to his friend's rescue.

''You get lost, you Death Eaters' arse lickers!'' Dennis spat, breathing heavily.

Ron's face turned as red as his hair. ''You weren't the only person to lose your brother in the battle!'' he growled. ''I'm not blaming Harry for Fred! Stop blaming him for Colin! It was his choice!''

Harry blinked at Ron. It was the first time Ron acknowledged aloud Fred's death in such a way. Usually he just let the silence finish the unspoken sentence for him.

''What do we have here?'' the man clad in black had a thing for appearing unexpected, not having made a single sound. It probably came with the job of being a spy. Snape looked at Dennis preparing to punch Ron and then at Harry picking up his books. ''Wonderful. The Headmistress and professor O'Cathail will love to hear of this – three Gryffindors fighting in the corridor. Truly a pinnacle of Gryffindor bravery. Ten points from Gryffindor!'' Subsequently Snape's gaze landed once more on Harry. ''Potter,'' he hissed. ''Detention!''

''But-!'' Harry was about to protest, to point out it was Dennis who had started the fight, but then he looked briefly at Ron and then at his Potions Master. No, arguing would only infuriate Snape, who would probably impose the punishment on Ron as well. He huffed getting up and looked Snape angrily into his eyes. ''Yes, professor.''

''Friday, 4 P.M. Do not forget, Potter,'' Snape coldly warned.

Harry licked his teeth, glaring daggers at his teacher and at Dennis, who was smirking nastily and victoriously at him, as if he had made a point in the argument.

Chapter Text

''Severus, I think you impose detentions on Potter far too often,'' Minerva eyed her colleague sitting at her desk.

Severus straightened his back and put his hands behind it. ''Au contraire, Minerva. I think I am reasonable in imposing detentions on the brat. Maybe you are satisfied with his performance at Transfiguration. Maybe he even excels at your subject. However, I can assure you he is utterly hopeless at Potions. If Potter hopes that he will be accepted into Auror training programme, he has to put more effort into my subject. I am simply trying to stop him from wasting his time on some childish antics.''

It was only a half of the truth – at first Severus had tried to teach Potions during detentions, but the brat was completely ignorant to what was told to him. Yes, Potter could be dense when it came to Potions, but at this point Severus believed he was doing it out of spite. So he had assigned the brat with cleaning jars and when Potter started 'accidentally' breaking them, with cleaning cauldrons.

The Headmistress put her elbows on her desk and intertwined her fingers. ''Should I assume then your current treatment of Potter is related to the incoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match?'' she said it keeping a straight face, but the spark behind her glasses betrayed her amusement.

Severus only slightly raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. He felt bad about lying to his superior, especially considering what had happened in the previous few years. However, disclosing the truth behind his decision to stay and teach brats (specifically one Potter) simply wasn't an option. Even more so, taking into account Severus wasn't even sure if the brat actually was his own. And even if it turned out to be true, did he have the right to share the information with other people? Would Lily have wanted that?

When he had announced he had changed his mind about teaching under the pretence of needing time to adjust to the post-war life, he had told Minerva he would only return to the post of DADA teacher. Unfortunately, it had turned out even though he had been acquitted, the Ministry had deemed him too controversial to teach such a crucial subject. Post-war Hogwarts regretably was a subject to many restrictions and Minerva's power as the Headmistress wasn't as vast as it would be in normal circumstances. ''If it were up to me, I would have entrusted you with the subject,'' Minerva had told him. For the sake of the act, Severus had pretended it had been an absolutely essential part of the deal and he had only softened to take Potions instead under Minerva's pressure. Luckily the change in subjects taught by him hadn't hampered Severus main goal – the brat had to take Potions as well as DADA if he wanted to become an Auror.

As the DADA teacher the Ministry proposed a retired Auror, Jocasta O'Cathail, to which Minerva had agreed. ''I know Jocasta,'' she had told him when he heard about the new DADA teacher. ''She won't be anything like that toad.''

And now the retired Auror was standing next to him in the Headmistress' office.

''I guarantee my decision has nothing to do with that ridiculous activity. Frankly, I couldn't care less about Quidditch. Moreover, should I remind you I have never allowed a first-year to join my house' Quidditch team, unlike some of us?'' Severus pointed out.

''I agree with Minerva, Snape,'' O'Cathail said. ''As the head of Gryffindor I see no reasons why would you impose so many detentions on one of my students.''

Severus glanced at his new colleague from the corner of his eyes. ''I am not trying to prevent you from imposing punishments on my Slytherins and I would like to ask you not to prevent me on imposing them on your Gryffindors. Furthermore, Potter isn't the only student who receives this kind of treatment. I impose detentions on Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike,'' he said matter-of-factly, thinking of the sixth-year Slytherin who spat in his direction the previous week. The brat was doomed to cleaning cauldrons with his toothbrush until the end of semester. Still, Severus was mildly surprised it took the student so long to break – brat's parents were inferior Death Eaters, currently locked in Azbakan.

Minerva exhaled slowly and massaged her temples. ''I have to agree with Severus on this matter, Jocasta. Any teacher, regardless if they are a head of a house – and which house – or not, is entitled to impose detentions on any student, no matter which house the student was sorted into. That having been said, I am lifting the upcoming detention from Potter. Next time you decide to impose detention on him, consult Jocasta and if you can't reach an agreement, inform me.''

Sensing there was no room for argument, Severus nodded, even though he deeply disagreed with Minerva's decision. Not only because the Headmistress threw a wrench into his plans – Severus' keen eyes of a spy were simply more perceptive than his fellow teachers'. Or maybe they didn't notice certain things about the boy, because they didn't want to. Perhaps Severus should have pretended he hadn't seen some things as well.

He needed to learn more about the brat... and yet the awareness he had attempted to help Potter (he doubted the brat had accepted it) made Severus queasy. In this very moment, standing before his superior who basically told him to stop seeing the child so often, he questioned his own actions. His mission was done, the war had ended and Lily's son finally was out of harm's way. The brat had been right – Severus had no reasons to care. Severus didn't care.

---

''It's a relief McGonagall stepped in! Snape would never have left you alone!'' Ron patted Harry's back, packing up his Quidditch equipment following the end of the training.

''It's a shame she hadn't done it earlier,'' Harry sighed. Thanks to Snape's constant detentions, Harry managed to take part in only three trainings and they had a match against Slytherins the next day.

''Good job, Harry!'' Ritche shouted from a distance. ''I've never thought one could play so well having trained Quidditch so rarely!''

''Oh, give him a rest,'' said Lan. ''It's just Snape being Snape.''

Damelza laughed. ''See how far supporting the bat has gotten you?''

Harry threw sweaty towel in Damelza's direction. ''Oh, shut up!''

Ginny put her hands on her hips. ''Damelza, Ritchie, don't you have anything better to do?''

Once her, Harry and Ron were the only remaining members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team on the field, she spoke again. ''How are feeling about tomorrow?''

Harry shrugged. ''Fine, I guess. I feel I can do it. I just wish I had more time to train with you,'' he added sourly.

Ron picked up his back and the group headed for the castle. ''Ignore them, mate,'' Ron waved his hand dismissively. ''You're a lot better than Ritchie and Damelza combined and they attended every training.''

Harry smirked. ''Thanks.''

''Though, I have to admit Lan is pretty decent,'' Ron went on.

''Told you so!'' Ginny reminded meanly, receiving an eye-roll from her brother in response.

---

The weather was most inadequate for a Quidditch match – the sky was perfectly grey and the rain poured relentlessly. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were standing awkwardly in the rain, looking like two groups of wet chickens or hungry orphans from an unfunded orphanage. Still both teams were determined to play the match and win it.

''I am happy to see all of you gathered together to show support to our Quidditch teams for the first time in over a year,'' the Headmistress announced. ''Many of you are wishing right now we met in better circumstances weather-wise. I couldn't agree more, however such a weather is nothing unusual in November in our climate. Now, without further ado, let the referee do her duty.''

Rolanda Hooch approached a chest and opened it. Then the teacher carefully unbuckled the balls. The new golden snitch of the Hogwarts made its debut in the match by flying high in the air. The Bludgers flew in completely different directions. Madam Hooch took the Quaffle and three it in the air, while blowing into her whistle. The game has started, Chasers rushed after the Quaffle. Harry went up in the air, trying to spot the snitch through the raindrops. His broom dangerously rocked in the strong wind.

''Weasley, I mean Ginny Weasley passed the Quaffle to Lan Nga Anh. Lan throws it to Damelza Robins... Damelza! Oh no! Vaisey takes over the Quaffle! Browleek earns slimes ten points!''

Harry looked at the new commentator. He spoke as if Lee's spirit got into him. Harry looked closer... no. A Hufflepuff talking like that?

''I'm sorry, Headmistress,'' the Hufflepuff didn't seem remorseful at all. ''It's just what everyone is thinking!''

Harry had to admit from the entire Slytherin team he only recognised Vaisey, but he wasn't even sure if it was his first or last name, and Brownleek, with whom he shared some classes.

''Yes! Yes! What a beautiful throw, Damelza!'' the Hufflepuff commentator cheered. ''Wait a moment... Ritchie, no, Ritchie!'' Ritchie admittedly did a poor job at the post of a Beater as he got himself knocked by a Bludger.

''Watch out Gryffindors, Brownleek is coming... Bravo, Weasley... uh, Ron. Ron Weasley defended goalpost! Why there are always so many Weasleys in Gryffindor team? I don't know how Lee managed to keep the record when Fred, George and Ron were all in the team!''

Harry spotted the snitch and directed his brown towards it. Slytherin's seeker's reflexes weren't any worse than Harry's, though.

Meanwhile Slytherins scored another ten points. ''Son of a... blast-ended skrewt,'' the commentator glanced at professor Sprout. ''Why weren't all these slimes expelled from the school? Sorry, Professor! It's what-'' the Hufflepuff addressed the Headmistress. ''Yes, Professor,'' he deflated. It didn't take a genius to figure out some points were taken from Hufflepuff for his frivolous speech.

---

The following Sunday was a Hogsmeade Sunday. Not having been in a particular hurry the quatro took a longer route, despite Hermione's nagging. The mud from yesterday's rain was splashing under their feet, adding depressive mood amplifying the depressive mood of the construction site. The hole in the castle's walls still seemed unreal. The Hogwarts castle has always reminded Harry of some unconquerable fortress.

Ron sighed and straightened his arms. ''Ah, it's so good we put slimes into their place yesterday,'' he said pleased.

''Well, only 180 to 170,'' Ginny reminded, clearly feeling down about winning by such a small margin of points.

''Ron!'' Hermione jabbed him with her elbow. ''Don't call them that! Don't you remember what McGonagall said during the Welcoming Feast?''

Her boyfriend shrugged non-commitally. ''Not really, why?''

''She said we should respect other houses. Slytherin too,'' Hermione put an emphasis on the last two words upon noticing Ron's slightly amused face. ''And the other thing she said is that students aren't allowed near construction site,'' she took a deep breath, like she used to when she was preparing to sermonise her friends. ''That's why I think we shouldn't be here- Hey!'' she yelled at Harry, giving the Weasley siblings a jumpscare. ''Throw it away! You don't know what that thing is!''

Harry sighed tiredly, not feeling like arguing with his friend, and threw a rock he was holding in the construction site's direction.

''Give it a rest, Hermione,'' Ginny tried to pacify the other girl. ''It's just a rock.''

This seemed to only irritate Hermione further. ''Haven't you read Hogwarts, A History? Strong protective spells-''

''No, we haven't,'' Ron cut in.

''I know you are feeling nervous because time flies so quickly and you're already worried about N.E.W.T.s-''

''Well, at least I'm using my free time to prepare for the exams,'' Hermione angrily crossed her arms.

Ron threw his arms up. ''Then why do you even bother going with us to Hogsmeade? It's a waste of time, isn't it?'' Harry paled at Ron's words. He shook his head and wordlessly mouthed 'stop' at Ron, who crinkled his nose up at Harry's expression.

''Guys, guys,'' Ginny raised her arms in a mock-surrender. ''Give it a rest. We're gonna meet Neville in Three Broomsticks. Isn't it worth looking forward to?''

Harry nodded vigorously, hoping the change of subject would ease the dense atmosphere. ''Yeah, I'm really curious how Neville's N.E.W.T.s went.''

''Do you really think they've already checked them? It's been only a month,'' Ron asked.

Ginny took Harry's hand and carressed its back with her thumb. Her gaze lifted up to meet Harry's and she smiled shyly. He knew why – Ginny must have sensed the unexpected lack of his Blood Quill scars.

Snape was a... mysterious man. He had assigned Harry with a load of detentions under any reason – no matter if it was real or not. And then during the last detention before the Headmistress decided to do something about the detentions injustice Harry had fallen a victim to, as Harry had been scrubbing a cauldron from mucus, Snape had spoken.

---

''You may leave, Lee. I want to see you again next Friday, 4 P.M. Do. Not. Be. Late.'' It was somehow refreshing to see Harry wasn't the only person Snape used his threatening voice on. The Slytherin student sneered, throwing the head of his house a glance that he probably deemed equally menacing as his teacher's voice and left.

''Show me your hand, Potter,'' the Potions Master ordered harshly. Harry made a show of throwing a sponge at the table before hanging his left hand in the former spy's sight. ''The other one,'' Snape said in a tone that informed he was done with Gryffindor's antics. Harry, however, wasn't done with his own antics. Even more so that he started to get an idea what the git wanted to see. ''Turn it around,'' Snape ordered when Harry shown the palm of his hand. And there it was, currently barely noticeable – a scar reading 'I must not tell lies'. ''A memento from our dear High Inquisitor, I assume? Don't give me that look, Potter. I am not a fool. That toad,'' Harry tried to stare angrily at the teacher for discovering his secret, he really tried, but he couldn't just stop the corners of his mouth going up upon hearing Snape calling Umbridge a toad. Luckily Snape ignored the sound of Harry choking on his snort. ''is ridiculously easy to see through. She wanted me to infuse you with Veritaserum. It doesn't come as a surprise she opted for this method of teaching you brats some discipline. Well, Potter,'' Snape smirked, but this time it looked different... as if it was forced. As if Snape didn't find it amusing. ''It seems you should be glad I only made you clean jars and cauldrons.'' Harry was silent. ''Have you told any teacher about it?'' Harry still was silent. ''Answer me, Potter. Preferably before the curfew.''

''No,'' Harry lowered his hand.

''No, sir,'' Snape corrected.

''No, sir,'' Harry parroted clenching his fists.

''And why is that?'' Snape raised an eyebrow.

''And how would you expect me to do so? Who should have I reached?'' Harry lost it. ''Dumbledore was out of Hogwarts, I didn't want to get professor McGonagall into troubles.''

''It's been over two years, for Merlin's sake! You could have contacted someone once that toad had left Hogwarts.''

''When?! It's been two years of shit going down after shit and another one! Sir!'' Harry sneered, uncarring how many more detentions he was going to receive from the git. ''Besides, what is it to you?'' he added after a second. He knew that Snape at some level cared (for the sake of Harry's mum, when hatred for Harry's dad didn't blind him) – that much was clear to Harry after he had seen his teacher's memories, and it stung somewhere inside Harry's gut right now. He needed Snape to deny it. He needed things to be normal again, because Snape's behaviour made no sense – he seemed to take interest in Harry's well-being out of sudden while keeping imposing detentions with sadistical pleasure. Things were so much simpler back then – Harry had hated Snape, Snape had hated Harry. Harry wanted to be mad at the git of a teacher, but how could he when he was aware how many times Snape had saved his life, how much Snape had risked and sacrificed?

Harry fully expected for Snape to yell at him and impose on him one thousand detentions. To his surprise Snape turned around, crouched in front of a shelf and reached for a potion. He returned to his student, handing him a jar that turned out to contain not a potion but some kind of ointment. ''Apply it once a day for a week when the Moon rises. Report to me next Friday.''

If Harry were wearing his trousers, he would have put his hands into the pockets, but due to the lack of them, he put his hands behind his back. ''Thank you, sir, but I don't need it. I'm fine, it's almost gone.''

Snape's expression was scornful. ''Don't argue with me. It will never disappear without a proper care.'' Harry was about to refuse accepting the... the gift? But the teacher spoke once more. ''Take it and do as I say. If I don't see your scars gone next Friday, I am going to inform Madam Pomfrey, professor O'Cathail and the Headmistress about the treatment you had received from the High Inquisitor. Choose wisely, Potter.''

---

Ginny cleared her throat, bringing Harry back to the present moment, and looked away. ''I think we shouldn't linger here any longer. Neville is probably already waiting for us.''

Neville indeed was waiting in Three Broomsticks. His face, previously showing a sign of worry, lit up at the sight of his friends. ''Hi, guys!'' he waved and soon five Gryffindors were sitting at the table.

Madam Rosmerta quickly abandoned her post by the bar as she spotted the newcomers. ''What will be for you?'' she smiled.

Gryffindors exchanged gazes and spoke at once. ''Five butterbeers, please.''

''Alright, I'll bring them in a second. On the house,'' she winked at them.

Teenagers looked at her somewhat embarrassed. ''Oh, no, we shouldn't...'' Hermione said, reaching for her purse.

''On the house,'' Madam Rosmerta was adamant. ''For the saviour of the wizardkind and his friends who defeated Voldemort. Ah-ah,'' she tutted when Neville and Harry were about to protest. ''You'll pay the next time, don't worry.''

''How I missed the taste,'' Ron sighed, licking the foam from his lips. He put away the glass and wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder. Meanwhile Ginny cuddled up to Harry. Then Ron glared at the slightly sulking Neville. ''Hey, don't keep us in the dark! How is your Auror training going?''

Neville took a seep of his butterbeer and crossed his arms. ''I'm not an Auror trainee yet.''

''But you've said you were helping Aurors hunt down Death Eaters,'' Ron protested. ''Man, I wish it were me,'' he added dreamily. ''All I have to do is study some stupid subjects like Potions,'' he scoffed.

''Yeah, I am,'' Neville shrugged. ''But the entrance exams were moved to January because of N.E.W.T.s being held in October. I don't even know if there's any point in studying for the entrance exams anyway...''

Hermione made an outraged face at the mere suggestion of studying being pointless. ''Of course there is! I've heard they are difficult, you should put all your efforts into it, Neville!''

Neville sent her an angry glare, but it lasted only for a fraction of a second. He couldn't stay mad at his friends for long. ''That's not what I meant. I-,'' he lowered his head ashamed. ''They want five E's and I've achieved only four. I got an A at Potions.''

''They can't not accept you only because of that! You cut Nagini's head off for Merlin's sake!'' Ginny said indignantly.

Neville drew circles on the table with his glass of butterbutter. ''Well,'' he drawled. ''Savage said they would accept me even if I had three E's. He seems pleased with my work so far.''

''What is the problem then?'' Ron asked confused.

''Savage isn't a high rank Auror. He may even believe he's right, but he doesn't make the rules.''

Ginny shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable against Harry's chest. ''Yes, but aren't Aurors terribly understaffed after the war? It's quite likely they'll loosen their criteria for candidates.''

''I'm sure they'll accept you with open arms, Neville,'' Hermione assured.

''Ginny's right. Hey, do you think they'll keep less strict criteria the next year? I feel I might not score an E at Potions too,'' Ron asked with newfound interest.

Hermione looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows. ''That's why you need to study harder!''

Ron looked as if he was about to reply, but decided not to. ''At least Harry doesn't need to worry about his Potions N.E.W.T. Snape will make sure of that!'' he joked instead.

''And why is that?'' Neville asked curiously.

''I had like a half of September's and all of October's Friday afternoons filled with detentions,'' Harry lamented.

''During our Quidditch trainings! Can you imagine?'' Ron seconded his friend, making Harry's situation look like a Greek tragedy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''Tell us more about your work with Aurors!'' she pleaded, knowing it would take boys' minds off that game.

Neville loudly gulped, swallowing the beverage. ''Oh, the Death Eaters are so spread out you wouldn't believe,'' he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ''The majority tries to get back to their normal lives and pretends they've never sided with Voldemort. They usually come up with excuses like they had been Imperiused and so on. But there are also the loyal ones. They fight till the end. An awful lot, quite stealthy. I think we've had the most trouble with Rowle.''

''What happened?'' Harry asked. The quatro was sitting at the edge of their seats.

''He had been caught, but the transport wasn't guarded well enough – he ran away. We suspect it was him who helped Macnair with his escape from Azkaban. It would have been much worse, but Proudfoot arrived with his team on time to stop any more prisoners from leaving their cells.''

Chapter Text

It came as no surprise to Harry when Snape ordered him to stay after classes as Harry was packing his equipment. Snape wasn't the forgetting type and surely wasn't happy he hadn't been able to check on Harry's scar on Friday like he had warned. Harry nodded at his friend and turned around to face his teacher.

''So, Potter,'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Have you been applying the ointment as I told you?''

''Yes, sir,'' Harry drawled.

Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow. ''Show me, then. Just spare me the play with your hands this time.'' Harry rolled up the sleeve of his robe and put his right hand in Potions Master's line of sight. Snape scrutinised the back of student's hand. ''Wise choice, Potter. Should you find yourself at the receiving end of psychopath's wrath, report to the staff immediately instead of waiting two years for someone to notice,'' he added drily. ''I hope no such an eventuality shall happen in the last six months of your education, however, being aware of your exceptional affinity for getting yourself into trouble, I fear it is quite likely.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the speech and glanced briefly at the door. ''I think I got the massage. Sir. May I-?''

Snape looked at the teenager unamused. ''Yes, you may leave, Potter.''

The weather was too bad for the students to spend their free time outside. Besides, Ron, Hermione and Ginny didn't have the time to walk far away. Harry caught up with them quickly.

''How nice of him not to hold you until Transfiguration this time,'' Ginny smirked.

''Did you get more detentions?'' Ron asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. ''No. Whatever McGonagall told Snape, it must have discouraged him from imposing detentions on me for good,'' he grinned.

''What did he want then?'' Ron wrinkled his nose. ''He didn't invite you for some tea and biscuits, did he?''

Harry snorted at the image of Snape doing so. ''It was nothing important, really.'' Feeling his friends' nosy eyes on him, Harry went on. ''During the last detention Snape gave a salve for my Umbridge scar.''

Hermione's eyes seemed to grow wider. She swiftly snatched his hand and looked at it. ''Harry, that's wonderful! Why haven't you told us earlier?'' she let go of his hand.

Harry shrugged. ''I didn't think it's important.''

Ron tilted his head questioningly. ''You asked him for the salve?''

''No!'' Harry protested, taken aback. ''He... he saw my scar and just gave the salve to me. Actually, he threatened me he would tell McGonagall about the scar if I didn't use it.''

Now it was Ron's turn to inspect Harry's hand. ''If I were you, mate, I'd be afraid my hand would fall out.''

''Ron!'' Hermione gasped.

As none of the quatro took a N.E.W.T.-level Divination, they had an entire span of a lesson for themselves. Unfortunately, they had also several assignments to finish, so they headed for the library. Harry felt like falling asleep on the book. Even if he had, he wouldn't have got a lot of sleep – Madam Pince had a sort of sixth sense when it came to mistreating books. When the time for Arithmancy arrived, Hermione waved a 'bye' and left for the classes.

Ginny put her hand on his knee. ''Are you alright? You seem slightly unfocused.''

Harry took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and put them back again. ''Yeah, yeah,'' he nodded. ''It's probably the weather.''

''Or it's Snape,'' Ron whispered conspiratorially, earning an eye-roll from his sister. ''But on a serious note, I get you, mate. That Herbology bullshit makes me feel like nodding off too!''

---

Thanks to Minerva's order Severus was back to square one. Well, in all honesty, he managed to scrape some information. Patrolling school's corridors, Severus tried to piece together what he knew of the boy so far. First of all, Potter naturally looked like late James Potter's copy.

Secondly, there was something Severus had never paid attention to before – when the brat was reading a book or noting down in his notebook, he tended to hunch over, making his mop of hair fall on his face. It was something James Potter had never done. Severus couldn't imagine his bully ever allowing his glorious hair fall so unattractively on his face. However, Severus knew the person who had done exactly that – himself. Potter hunched over his notebook reminded Severus of his younger self he had seen oftentimes during relieving his memories in the Pensieve. A teenager with his nose in the book and his hair all over his face, while other students laughed at him and called him 'Snivellous'.

Severus was aware of his own faults. He could be pretty petty and sassy. Now that Severus recalled the brat telling him there was no need to call him 'sir', he rather reminded Severus of his younger self, only with less control over his mouth, than James Potter. Frankly, Severus had to admit, despite what he had believed for so many years, The-Boy-Who-Lived's character was nothing like James Potter's. He wasn't the selfish, spoiled brat Severus had wanted to see in the boy. On the other hand, numerous traits could be attributed to the upbringing and having become an orphan at the age of one-year old, Potter's spawn couldn't imitate his father's behaviour. Moreover, brat's traits could hardly serve as an indicator of his lineage.

The sound of adolescent voices yelling and screaming broke him from his musings. Naturally, dunderheads couldn't behave themselves for long. His long legs carried him to the source of the tumult. He spotted a first-year Slytherin pressed against the wall by two fifth-years. Severus narrowed his eyes – Potter and Ronald Weasley were there too. It appeared that none of the students were aware of teacher's presence. Maybe Severus had given Potter the benefit of doubt too quickly, maybe he was like the bully of his father after all. He took a step forward ready to put a stop to the torment.

''Dennis, are you out of your mind? What has he done to you?'' Potter actually tried to stop his fellow Gryffindor from bullying other kids?

''Nothing. Yet,'' Dennis Creevey said coldly.

''Then leave him alone,'' Potter moved to stand between the young Slytherin and older students.

''But he will, sooner or later. He's a Slytherin,'' Creevey went on.

Severus' stomach tightened. The problem is he exists, if you know what I mean, James Potter had said.

''They all are the same,'' said Orla Quirke. ''They all support Death Eaters and only wait for the right moment to strike knife into ours back,'' she spat hatefully.

''He is a first-year,'' Potter pointed out. ''He had nothing to do with the war.''

Creevey snorted. ''Sure. I bet his parents are Death Eaters.''

''You don't know that,'' Potter's posture stiffened. ''And even if you were right, so what? We don't carry the sins of our parents! Kid is his own person.''

Ronald Weasley seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with the scene. ''Harry, leave it. Dennis is a piece of shit,'' he said it right into Creevey's face and then turned his attention back to his friend. ''Let's go, we're gonna be late for DADA.''

''That's right, Potter,'' Ravenclaw girl mocked. ''Go, we will handle it.''

''All Slytherins are either Death Eaters or their supporters,'' Creevey took a step forward.

''Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters! Slughorn isn't!'' Potter reminded.

Creevey cocked his head from side to side. ''Are you sure about that? He was quite slippery with his Slugclub. That was probably something like Death Eaters kindergarten or something.''

Potter clenched his fists. ''Yes, Dennis, I am sure. I attended some of those meetings. And you know what? Pettigrew was a Gryffindor!'' Apparently the brat decided to strike where it would hurt the most. ''He was the Death Eater who betrayed my parents!''

''Maybe the old Hat wasn't in its right mind when it was sorting him,'' Quirke tried to push Potter away to gain access to the Slytherin on the floor.

Weasley sighed tiredly. ''Harry, there's no point in reasoning with them.''

Severus stepped in, finally making his presence known. ''Creevey, ten points from Gryffindor!'' Then his gaze pierced the girl. ''Quirke, ten points from Ravenclaw! Both of you – detention,'' he hissed spitefully, his voice was icily cold.

Potter looked at him defiantly, probably awaiting a detention as well. Against himself, Severus smirked a little and nodded at the brat on his way to his Slytherin on the floor. Not like James Potter, so it seemed. Severus helped the first-year get up and escorted him to his office. Oh, he was going to have a talk with Jocasta and Filius.

---

After DADA (fortunately it turned out once professor O'Cathail was pleased with the class' theoretical knowledge she was willing to move onto more practical aspects of the subject) Ginny went to spend some time with her classmates and the trio decided to visit Hagrid.

''Just the three of us, like in good old times,'' Ron, who was walking with Hermione on his right and Harry on his left, spread out his arms around both of his friends' shoulders.

Harry eyed him. ''Why is Ginny a problem to you? I'm not complaining you are going everywhere with Hermione!''

''Hey!'' Hermione protested. On Harry's head suddenly landed a heap of leaves.

Ron shrugged. ''Well, the difference is Hermione has always gone everywhere with us.''

Hermione raised her head proudly, as if she hadn't ambushed her friend a second ago and crossed her arms. ''I think it's healthy Ginny isn't limiting her friendships to her boyfriend's friends and her brother.''

If she wanted to go further in her tirade, she didn't have a chance, because leaves thrown at Ron by Harry ricocheted off the red head to hit her. She growled and with a flick of her wand sent leaves flying at Harry. The boy in glasses stumbled back, but managed to throw some leaves back at Hermione, who parried them. Colourful leaves flew in every direction, quite a few of them landing in teenagers' hair. Hermione failed at surpressing her laughter – the saviour of wizardkind sitting in a heap of leaves looked rather silly. Then she picked a leaf from Ron's hair.

''You know,'' she said spinning the leaf by its stem in her fingers. ''They suit you,'' she closed one eye and looked at the leaf and Ron's red hair behind it.

By the time they arrived at Hagrid's hut their robes were dirty with wet stains of slowly decaying leaves.

''Come in, come in!'' Hagrid welcomed them kind-heartedly. ''What happened to yeh? Struck with a tornado?'' the teacher of Care of Magical Creatures asked with an amusement in his eyes as he saw their unruly hair.

Harry bit the upper lip and glanced at his friends. ''Something like that.''

''Sit down and warm up a little. Wouldn' wanna any of yeh catch a cold,'' Hagrid said putting on the table three hot cups of tea. The smell of citruses and ginger pleasantly tickled their nostrils.

Hermione blowed at her cup. ''How is Buckbeak doing?''

''Beaky is fine- No, Fang, stay!'' the keeper ordered when his dog walked in, ready to lick the faces of the guests. ''He doesn' mind the weather as long as he has a place to spread his wings. How are yer classes goin'?''

''Oh, we've got a load of work, but I think it's managable with the right schedule,'' Hermione made a serious face.

Ron relaxed in the chair. ''Yeah, and Snape keeps draining our points... we're gonna lose the cup,'' he grimaced.

''Well, I see why yer angry, but I'm sure Professor Snape has his reasons,'' Hagrid put an emphasis on the word 'professor' and raised an eyebrow.

Ron pursed his lips. ''And his reason is disliking Harry.''

Hagrid furrowed his eyebrows. ''What yer... Professor Snape? He risked his life fer Harry!''

Harry looked away. ''Actually, he had a good reason today...'' he said quietly.

Ron waved his hand. ''Stop it, mate. He should've given you points for standing up to Dennis!''

Harry truly didn't think he deserved any award for stopping Dennis from bullying a helpless first-year. In a way it would have felt as if Gryffindor were awarded for Dennis' unacceptable behaviour, while Ravenclaw would have only received penalty for Orla Quirke.

Hermione looked at the boys startled. ''What happened? You haven't said anything earlier.''

Harry shrugged, the warmth of the cup being much more interesting than the story to tell. ''Dennis and Quirke – she's a Ravenclaw,'' he explained. ''assaulted a first-year Slytherin. I told them to stop, Snape walked in, imposed detentions on them and took points from the houses. That's it.'' Harry was probably imaging things, but the look on Snape's face when he saw Harry protect young Slytherin was somehow similar to the one he'd had when Harry had defended him in the court. He still couldn't decipher it, the expression kept eluding him, but the more he thought about it, the more his guts were telling him to was something akin to... gratitude? No, that was a wrong word. Appre-

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. ''Dennis is truly losing it,'' she put a stop to Harry's speeding thoughts. ''You did the right thing. I always knew your moral compass is correct, Harry. Maybe Snape should've given you some points, but I can see why he chose not to. Besides, there are more important matters than the House Cup,'' she said the last part turning her attention to her boyfriend.

''And how are your classes, Hagrid?'' Ron changed the subject. It seemed that he was in the minority concerning the assessment of the argument with Dennis.

''So far no one got bit by Beaky!'' Hagrid laughed. ''But two students landed in Hospital Wing after tryna openin' the book. Nothin' serious,'' he waved his hand dismissively upon seeing Hermione's worried expression. ''Got all o' their fingers.''

''Aren't there less um... bloodthirsty textbooks out there?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, sipping his tea. He's never liked that book.

Hagrid gulped down whatever he was drinking. ''Maybe there are... None of 'em as good, let me tell yeh.''

Harry shook and rubbed his hands against his arms.

''Yeh alright, Harry?'' Hagrid narrowed his eyes.

Harry swallowed and nodded. ''Yeah, I just think I just might have caught cold out there,'' he breathed out, trying to warm himself up a bit.

''Ah, I've got a remedy fer that!'' Hagrid clapped and reached into a counter behind him, producing some bottle. He got up, grabbing his umbrella on the way and walked to the kettle. He poured the beverage into the kettle and lit up the fire with his umbrella. Slowly stirring the contents of the kettle, he hummed some song adding spices. ''There yeh go!'' he poured four cups of mulled mead. ''Oughta keep yeh warm.''

Hagrid's way of dealing with cold didn't seem to work. Harry was tired all the time and with every passing day the castle seemed to be getting even colder to the point when jumping into the fireplace in Gryffindor common room started to look like a welcoming idea. He tried to hide his detororiated condition from his peers, feeling utterly ridiculous – people dubbed him the saviour of wizardkind (gosh, he hated it even more than 'The Chosen One') and yet he cought a common muggle cold in the middle of November.

Frankly, he made an awful job at hiding the state of his well-being – Ginny needed only to take his hand to see right through him. ''You should go to see Madam Pomfrey! You are freezing.''

He shivered under the warmth of her touch. ''It's nothing. Just a cold.''

''Harry,'' she put hand hands on her hips and eyed him scrutinisingly, like her mum when she was preparing to tell Arthur Weasley off.

''Alright, alright!'' he raised his hands in a mock-surrender. ''After Quidditch, OK?''

Ginny grimaced. ''I dunno... you really shouldn't be flying like that. It's gonna get worse.''

''Come on, Ginny! It's not like I'm going to fall off a broom,'' Harry rolled his eyes.

In a way he was right – he didn't fall off his broom, he crashed into one of spectator stands, never letting go off the broom.

''You alright, mate?'' Ron helped him get up.

Harry hazily nodded, nearly tripping on his own foot if not for Ron keeping him upright.

Ginny's gaze was as fiery as her hair. ''Harry! I told you you were not fit for the training! You could've hurt yourself. Go to the Hospital Wing! Now!'' she pointed her finger towards the castle.

''Isn't it our ex-captain?'' Ritchie snorted.

Ginny clenched her fists and her eyes landed on her Beater. ''One more word and you're out of the team,'' she hissed and joined her brother in helping Harry reach the Hospital Wing.

''My goodness, Potter! Why haven't you come earlier?'' Madam Pomfrey put her hand on his forehead. ''Get into bed,'' she hurried the student.

''Is he alright?'' Ginny asked, while Ron was swaying from one foot to the other.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. ''Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I'll run some examinations and we'll see what he caught this time. Don't worry, we've treated much worse conditions. My, my, aren't you a troublesome bunch?'' she eyed the Gryffindors.

Chapter Text

Harry didn't think his condition was serious enough to keep him in the Hospital Wing, but he wasn't complaining – the stay at the Hospital Wing meant skipping classes. Naturally, Hermione was the first person to remind him he would have to catch up with the material he's missed, but Harry decided he was going to cross that bridge when he got to it.

''Man, maybe I should ask George if he still has some of his specialities?'' Ron whispered conspiratorially when Hermione was out of the hearing distance. ''Do you think I should go for U-No-Poo or Fainting Fancies?''

Harry exaggeratedly pondered. ''I'd go for Fever Fudge,'' he said after a moment.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Her brother sometimes was pretty selfish. ''Do you think Madam Pomfrey knows what is she doing? You've been here for three days and your hands are still cold.''

Ron sighed. ''Girls. Always have to worry about everything. Of course she knows what she's doing, that's her job! Right, Harry?''

''Well, I...'' Harry hesitated, not wanting to enrage his girlfriend, but not wanting to oppose his friend at the same time. ''I appreciate your concern, Ginny, but maybe it just takes time, like Skele-Gro.''

Ginny wrinkled her nose. ''Yes, a day, maybe two, but not three. You're not looking any better!''

Truth be told, Harry couldn't say he felt any better. For a moment he had a fleeting thought to suggest Madam Pomfrey prescribing him muggle medicines – if he caught a muggle cold muggle meds should be more effective, right? However, he quickly remembered that wizarding community was rather prejudiced when it came to muggle inventions and muggles in general, even the 'light' side of the war. Mrs. Weasley complaining every year about the number of muggles present at King's Cross station was a prime example. Madam Pomfrey would most likely laugh at his idea.

As Ron, Hermione and Ginny had to leave for the classes, they said their 'byes' and promised they would come again in the evening.

Lying in the bed, Harry recalled the times he's caught cold. Since the Dursleys hadn't wanted to waste money and medicines on him, he usually had ended up walking feverish around the house (and often to school) for days. His record had been two weeks with low-grade fever, headache and sore throat. Even though aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had never saved on Dudley's meds, he could recall his cousin spending a week in the bed. Compared to that, this treatment was a blessing. If only Madam Pomfrey wasn't pestering him with examinations. And perhaps if he wasn't feeling so awfully cold all the time... maybe he was having a flu? How different were the symptoms of cold from the symptoms of flu? Neither magical nor muggle medicine was Harry's strong suit.

However, Harry strong belief there was nothing out of usual about his condition started to crumble when Snape walked into the Hospital Wing and their eyes met.

---

Severus entered the Hospital Wing. He required only a fraction of second to spot the unruly Gryffindor sitting on a bed with his torso naked and Poppy by his side. His legs carried him to the boy's bed. The brat looked rather normal, except for being paler in the face. The first glance didn't alarm him about his presence being a necessity for the sake of brat's well-being. However, Poppy was adamant Potter's current condition was something that required further inspection. ''My set of potions for standard autumn illnesses isn't working,'' she had told him. ''But I can't get anything else from my examinations. I fear it could be...'' she had lowered her voice. ''A curse. And you're far more knowledgeable in this area than me.''

And so Severus arrived. ''Poppy, you've called me,'' he cleared his throat, making his presence known.

Poppy got up, hiding her wand. ''Yes, thank you for coming so quickly. If you were so kind and checked on Potter.''

''Naturally,'' Severus nodded.

''Alright, that will be all from me for now. You may put your pajamas on,'' she addressed the student. Giving her colleague a brief glance, she went to help other patients.

As Harry was putting on his pajama shirt, Severus spotted a mark on his arm and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick. He had seen a similar birthmark on Thobias Snape's arm during hot summer days when his father had been walking around the house in dirty tank top stained with sweat. The sight felt like a slap to his face. The Gryffindor must have noticed the change in his teacher's demenour as he eyed him questioningly.

''Well, well, well, what do we have here?'' Severus opted for his usual unwelcoming tone. ''Haven't I told you to report to me immediately if you get yourself into troubles again, Potter?''

Potter finished buttoning down his pajamas shirt. ''It's just a cold. Do you want me to report to you everytime I have a running nose, sir?'' As eloquent as ever the brat was.

''You surely cannot be that dense, Potter,'' Severus hissed. ''Do you think Madam Pomfrey would have sent for me if it were a mere cold?'' The teenager looked away, probably having run out of excuses. ''Give me your hand,'' Severus demanded, drawing Gryffindor's attention. The brat moved his hand further away from the former spy. ''We don't have the time for your childish games, Potter.'' The teenager pouted, but followed his teacher's order. Holding Potter's cold hand tightly, Severus took out his wand. With a broad sweep of his wand he spoke ''Revelet carmina mala''. Veins under boy's skin turned red, rush-like for a second and as quickly as they changed their colour, they turned back to normal. Severus furrowed his eyebrows – usually curse detecting spell worked for longer span of time, giving more time to inspect the curse. ''Revelet carmina mala'' he waved his wand again, still holding Potter's hand firmly. Once again boy's veins flashed red for a brief moment. Severus let go of Gryffindor's hand. ''Muffliato!'' he hissed mildly irriatted. ''You obviously got yourself cursed, Potter. And you didn't rush to report that to me or any other teacher, even though our late Headmaster's example should have shown you what a curse that is not treated in time can lead to,'' he angrily narrowed his eyes.

''I didn't know, I swear!'' the boy yelped ''I don't even know how it happened.''

Severus leant forward, his bent figure reminding of a young tree against a wind. ''Are you sure about it? Think, Potter, think!'' he jabbed boy's forehead. ''Haven't touched anything that you should have not touched like our late Headmaster or Miss Bell?''

The brat clenched his fists. ''No, I haven't touched any jewellery, sir.''

''Do not tease me, Potter,'' Severus warned. Some audacity the brat possessed.

''I didn't do anything, OK?! It's not like I enjoy getting myself cursed. Sir,'' Gryffindor's angry stare matched Severus' own.

Severus truly felt like replying to that remark, but stopped himself from doing so. He didn't have the time to argue with the brat. ''Stretch out your hand.''

''You've tried that one already,'' Potter pointed out.

''Do not question my orders,'' Severus grimaced. The boy didn't make Severus' job of helping him any easier. Potter grumbled, but did as he was asked. This time, however, Severus pulled a bottle from the pocket of his robe. He uncorked it and with a quick movement of his wand, made a tiny cut in his index finger. A droplet of his blood fell into the bottle. Severus corked the bottle again and gave the liquid a swirl, but the potion remained yellow. Whatever curse it was, some concealing charms were woven into it, clearly. The curse wasn't meant to be easily identified.

''Hey!'' the boy withdrew his hand and put his finger into his mouth.

''Don't act like a crybaby, Potter.'' Now that Severus thought about it, it was so easy. He could put a drop of Potter's blood into pre-prepared Bloodline potion containing Severus' own blood under a pretence of diagnosing the curse. He could finally know the truth for sure. But no, he quickly banished the temptation, he wasn't going to betray the trust put in him for his own means. ''I suggest you think harder about the origin of the curse. Or I will be forced to resort to infusing you with Veritaserum.''

''But I really have no idea, sir!'' Potter pouted, crossing his arms in protest. The action made him look few years younger.

Severus pushed into the back of his mind the spark of amusement at the sight of The Chosen One pouting like a child. He is still a child, Severus thought with a certain sadness he didn't anticipate himself to feel.

''We met with Neville in Hogsmeade like two weeks ago, I think?'' the boy went on. ''We had a glass of butterbeer in Three Broomsticks. I'm sure Madam Rosmerta doesn't have anything to do with this. She didn't look like under Imperius curse this time.''

Severus eyed the boy sceptically. ''So you can recognise straight away if somebody has fallen a victim to the Imperius curse? Good Merlin, the saviour of wizardkind is truly an outstanding wizard,'' he ridiculed.

Potter clenched his fists. ''It's not my fault you can't even tell which curse had attacked me! No wonder you were assigned Potions instead of DADA again. Sir!'' the brat stared into Severus' eyes, challening him.

Only halfway of the movement Severus realised his right hand was raising. He quickly lowered it, his very soul terrified by the action. No, he was not going to turn into his own father. He was not going resort to violence. He spun on his heel and headed for the exit, sloppily casting a wordless 'Finite Incantatem'. He had to consult Minerva and Jocasta. And stop thinking about the birthmark.

''Potter is cursed,'' Severus announced plainly during a briefing in Minerva's office. ''Unfortunately, I wasn't able to identify the curse. Whoever was the author of the curse, that person surely didn't want it to be easily recognisable. It hardly surrenders to the curse-unravelling spell.''

''What results has the spell produced?'' Jocasta O'Cathail asked.

''Only short-lived flashing of the circulatory system,'' Severus' report earnt him a worried 'oh' from Poppy.

Jocasta on the other hand was fully in her analytical state. ''It could be a blood curse. Have you tried running the curse reagent test, Snape?''

Severus scoffed. Did this woman take him for an amateur? ''Naturally I have, O'Cathail,'' he said coldly. ''Boy's blood doesn't react with the potion.''

Poppy nodded. ''The curse didn't leave any visible signs. The only symptom is the coldness of the body. By no means the lowered body temperature reached a life-threatening level, at least in the short run.''

Minerva tiredly took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ''Sweet Merlin... what did he get himself into this time?''

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''That is what I'm trying to determine, Minerva. However, Potter in his endless wisdom isn't even aware what might have triggered the curse.''

''Severus, please,'' Minerva sent him a reprimanding look. ''The boy is suffering from a curse. You don't have to criticise him any further. Show him some sympathy.''

Severus pretended he didn't hear the remark. ''Nevertheless, as I was saying, I wish to interrogate his friends. They are the most likely to leave some clues as to what curse had befallen Potter.''

''With all due respect, Minerva, I have to object. I am the head of the Gryffindor. I shall speak with the Weasleys and Ms. Granger myself,'' Jocasta intertwined her fingers and rested them against her abdomen.

''Then I shall object to your objection, O'Cathail,'' a grimace entered Severus' face. ''I have spoken with Potter. I have a better idea what questions should be posed to your Gryffindors.''

Jocasta only spared Severus a glance. ''Taking into account your demenour around students, it is quite likely you won't get any answers, Snape. I am the head of Gryffindor, they should trust me.''

''You are new to the role of teacher, while I have successfully interrogated numerous students countless times. Your Auror methods might not work on students,'' Severus smirked meanly. ''Besides, I believe I also have more experience with treating curses.''

Jocasta snorted theatrically. ''Oh, yes, you've treated Dumbledore so well you had to opt for mercy killing.''

Poppy looked slightly terrified to her right at Jocasta, then to her left at Severus, feeling caught between rock and a hard place.

''Jocasta! Severus! Peace!'' Minerva roared getting up from her chair. Then he fell back into the seat with a thud. ''Act like grown-ups for Merlin's sake! As if I don't have enough matters to take care of!'' She run her hand down her face and put on her glasses. ''That's how we will deal with this issue: Severus will talk to Weasleys and Granger. Just try being less coarse this time. Jocasta will talk to Potter. Maybe you can get more information from him or notice something about the curse. Poppy – you know what to do.''

Later that day Severus summoned Potter's friends to his office. If Potter hadn't noticed what had inflicted him with the curse, maybe the other three Gryffindors had.

''You might not be aware that Potter was inflicted with a curse,'' Severus didn't feel like beating around the bush with a small talk or bothering offering brats a place to sit. Granger covered her mouth in shock, Ronald Weasley paled and Ginevra Weasley grabbed her brother's arm.

''But you will cure him, right, sir?'' Granger asked warily.

''What is wrong with him?'' the youngest of Weasleys asked at the same time.

Severus gave teenagers unimpressed look. Naturally the idea of not speaking at the same time was beyond them. ''I do hope I will be able to help your friend. However, I might require your input. Potter claims he hadn't done anything that could get him into this state. I am hoping you have more wits than your unfortunate friend and can actually tell me what is the cause of the curse.''

''But Harry is right! We haven't done anything- hell, he hasn't done anything!'' Ron protested.

''You are not very helpful to your friend, Ronald Weasley,'' Severus said flatly. ''He is cursed, therefore something must have triggered the curse. Apparently such a simple conclusion is beyond your mental capabilities. Whatever reckless, immature behaviour of Potter you are trying to hide, contrary to what you are thinking, you are doing your friend a disservice.''

''Uh,'' Granger spoke, drawing Severus attention. ''I think I have some guesses, professor.'' Severus waved his hand, encouraging her to go on. ''During our trip to Hogsmeade we took a east-side route. We passed by the east wing, near the construction site. And, um,'' the girl swallowed. ''Harry picked up some rock. I told him to throw it away and he did.''

''Hermione, don't be ridiculous!'' Ronald Weasley looked incredulously at the girl. ''If Harry got the curse by touching some rock then everyone working at the construction site would have been cursed as well! Have you heard about anyone else getting cursed lately?''

''But Headmistress forbade students from walking around the construction site for a reason... It is mentioned in Hogwarts, A History that the Founders put strong protective spells around the castle walls. Maybe the spells caused the curse?'' Granger pointed out, making the boy roll his eyes.

''Protective spell cursing people?'' Ronald Weasley still tried to wrap his head around the idea.

Hermione Granger shrugged. ''You know what they say – the best defence is a good offence.''

Ginevra Weasley considered her friend's words. ''If that were the case, you would also have been cursed, and Ron as well.''

Severus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ''And why is that?''

''During the battle, when the wall exploded, Harry, Hermione and Ron were buried in the rubble, right? All of them touched stones from the wall that, according to Hermione, should have been magically protected. But it is only Harry who is cursed,'' Ginevra was thinking really hard, looking for the answer to the riddle.

Ronald's eyes went slightly wider. ''Do you think it was the curse that killed-?'' he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

The Weasleys were still grieving the loss of their brother, it didn't take a spy to notice that. What Minerva had asked him to? To be less coarse? Fine, I'll do it your way, Minerva , Severus thought. ''I do not think it was a curse in your brother's case. Certainly not the one that had befallen your friend. What I've learnt today might actually prove itself to be of use. However, if you recall anything that could be connected to the curse, report it to the Headmistress, professor O'Cathail, Madam Pomfrey or me.''

''Professor?''Ginevra couldn't help herself but to ask. ''Will Harry be alright?''

Unexpected knot formed in Severus' stomach, bringing a kind of worry previously unknown to him. Severus refused to name it. ''I am going to do anything in my power to cure Potter. Furthermore, currently there is no indication the curse is dangerous,'' he spoke calmly, matter-of-factly, even though his guts were telling him the last part of the sentence soon was going to prove itself false. No, it wasn't going to come to this. He was going to treat the brat before the curse showed its true might. For Lily's sake. He wasn't going to fail her again. Not this time.

Subsequently Severus rushed to the library. He didn't expect to find the name of the curse in Hogwarts, A History , but it was quite likely the book was going to leave further leads concerning the nature of the curse. He nodded his head in the librarian's direction and headed for the 'history' section.

He started reading the book from the very beginning – the story of the Founders before the foundation of Hogwarts. It didn't appear the chapter held any useful information in regard with Potter's current state. He cast a time-indicating spell and huffed discontented – it was well past 8 P.M. He should've discussed with Minerva changing his patrols schedule for the time of figuring out Potter's condition. He closed the book and holding it in the crook of his arm, he walked to the exit. On his way out he showed Madam Pince the book, explaining shortly he wished to borrow it.

Chapter Text

There were moments Severus appreciated his own expertise in Potions. Usually those moments were mornings after sitting until late night (or early morning) when he had to get up for classes. Though, sometimes he didn't even need to get up, not having a chance to get any sleep at all. In those morning the energising potion was a salvation. Today was that day.

He opened his cabinet for most commonly used potions and reached for the energising potion. Having uncorked it, he downed the red liquid in one go and grimaced. Being used to the tase didn't make it any less foul.

Severus had spent the night hunched over Hogwarts, A History. He had finished the chapter concerning the foundation of Hogwarts and then he had focused on the chapter dedicated to the spells protecting the castle. Granger's memory hadn't misled her – protective spells guarding the castle were mentioned. However, it wasn't much more than a mention – the author focused on the anti-Apparating spell and the spell hiding the castle from muggles' eyes. Certainly it held no value with regard to the matter of the curse if it was caused by said protective spell in the first place. Severus opened the book on the fragment one last time before heading for his teacher duties. At the bottom of the page an adnotation read: 'see: the Song of the Four Founders'. Severus made a mental note to inquire Madam Pince about the song when returning the book.

''How is your research going, Snape?'' Jocasta approached him during the dinner time.

Severus took his seat at the teachers' table. ''I have not found the answer yet, however, your Gryffindors have hinted a promising lead.''

''Have they?'' Jocasta raised her cup of coffee to her lips with a sly smirk.

''And how was your talk with Potter?'' Severus asked reaching for a jug of tea to pour himself a cup. Woman's cup of coffee at such a late hour didn't escape his notice. Probably she had spent the night trying to come up with a solution to the newest Potter problem as well.

''Likewise yours. He cannot recall anything that could have cursed him. You might be pleasantly surprised by the trust the boy puts in you. He was rather convinced I needn't have run any further examinations since Poppy and you have already have quite a lot. Potatoes?'' she offered a bowl.

''Yes, thank you,'' Severus took the bowl. ''I don't know if my ego is going to survive such a flattery coming from The-Boy-Who-Lived,'' he deadpanned. ''But the hesitation to trust you most likely stems from the fact you are a new teacher. And not just a mere teacher – a DADA teacher. As far I am concerned Potter didn't have the best experience with DADA teachers thus far.''

''You are one of those teachers,'' Jocasta reminded.

Severus grimaced in what was his version of a mean smirk. ''I have never claimed he had a good experience with me as his DADA teacher. Or Potions Master for that matter.''

''Ah,'' Jocasta spoke softly, nodding to herself. ''So you are one of those who take pride in being a harsh teacher.''

''I might be harsh, but I try to assess students fairly. And believe me I don't demand more from my students than I demand from myself.''

Jocasta eyed him, reaching for the salad. ''Yes, I think can I believe that.''

Having spent the next few sleepless nights with Hogwarts, A History , Curses and Hexes Through The Ages , Sickness-Inducing Spells and Dark Arts: Most Vile Curses . Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly a plenty of curses matching Potter's curse properties. Sickness-Inducing Spells listed a number of curses which resulted in victim displaying symptoms similar to muggle cold, but most of them, according to the author, were trackable with the use of the curse-unravelling spell. There were two curses that didn't yield to the spell, but could be detected via basic curse reagent.

However, there was one curse that drawed Severus' attention as it didn't react with the spell or the potion. Being a professional pessimist Severus didn't let the discovery give him much hope.

He returned to the library to carry on his research concerning the Pseudomorbus curse. He was nearly completely lost in the reading, when the part of his brain eternally occupied by his spy sense alerted him of somebody walking in his direction. He carefully put his hand on his wand and looked up. His body relaxed – it was only Irma Pince glarring daggers at him.

''Do you know what time it is?'' the librarian, the only person in the entire school allowed to raise her voice in the library, crossed her arms.

''Not at all,'' Severus rubbed his eyes with his index finger and his thumb, not feeling like lying to the woman.

''10 P.M. We are closing,'' Madam Pince hissed.

''I must have lost myself in this fascinating reading,'' he spoke emotionlessly. ''I shall be going,'' he got up and picked up the books.

''Yes, you'd better,'' the librarian said coldly. ''And what do you think you are doing, Snape?''

''Leaving like you asked me to,'' the iciness of his voice matched hers.

''Oh, you are leaving. That book, however,'' she pointed at Hale and Hearty , which Severus had picked from a shelf only that day. ''Is not.''

''I am a teacher, Pince,'' Severus hissed. ''I do not require a permission to borrow any book.''

''And I am a librarian, Snape and when I tell you this book can't leave these walls, it can't. Do you know how many precious titles were lost thanks to your Death Eater friends?'' her gaze was fiery.

Severus knew repeating that Death Eaters had not been his friends was a pointless endeavour. ''Very well, then,'' he clicked his tongue and put the book on a desk. ''I will return tomorrow, Irma. Oh, one more thing before I leave – what do you know of the Song of the Four Founders?''

''The Song of the Four Founders?'' Madam Pince furrowed her eyebrows. ''The title rings a bell,'' she put her finger to her lips, for a moment forgetting about her fury. ''I think I've got it. Follow me,'' she waved her hand at the Potions Master.

After a short walk through the maze of through bookshelves, the librarian stopped. She ran her finger through the spins of the books until he picked one. ''I remembered correctly,'' she said skimming through the book. ''It's a 11 ^th century poem about the creation of Hogwarts.''

Written only a century after the creation of Hogwarts? The Founders could have been still alive when the poem had been written, Severus mused. As he reached out for the book, the librarian put it back on the shelf and it seemed she was about to bark at him like a guard dog. ''Available only in the library, I get it,'' he said.

All in all, hours spent in the library weren't a waste of time – he's learnt something about the Song of the Four Founders. Curiously enough, he couldn't recall the poem having been mentioned in his History of Magic curriculum. It appeared to be a rather important work of literature concerning the history of the school. Probably the History of Magic would have become too interesting in professor Binns' standards if he actually covered the poem. Maybe he should inquire the ghost after the matter? Perhaps he wouldn't bore Severus to death or fall asleep in the middle of his monologue. Furthermore, Severus found out the means of detecting the Pseudomorbus curse.

---

Harry didn't look forward to visits from his friends anymore. At the beginning of his stay in the Hospital Wing time spent with Ginny, Ron and Hermione had been the best part of the day, but now he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't know why – he felt he should have found joy in those meetings. He didn't want to worry his friends any further, so he did his best to pay attention to Ginny's caring gestures, Ron's jokes and Hermione's reassuring that any day soon he would be cured. However, there were moments he couldn't force his mind to focus, opting for affirmative hums.

Everything was so tiring. Couldn't Madam Pomfrey, Snape and O'Cathail leave him alone? Instead they kept trying various potions and spells on him.

Harry wrapped the covers tighter around himself. The room felt as cold as if a Dementor had entered the place. However, there was no Dementor in sight, only Snape walking in once again. Maybe it was the weather. Even with the use of magic it was difficult to keep the castle warm. December was starting next week... Soon the Christmas break would arrive. Normally Harry at this time of year would already be on tenterhooks, awaiting the break from studying.

Harry felt Snape's observant eyes on him. He looked at his teacher and wondered if the former spy shouldn't be the one to remain in the Hospital Wing. The man certainly didn't look healthy.

''I came to continue the examination, Potter,'' Snape explained.

''Well, of course,'' Harry said emotionlessly. ''That's all you do these days, sir.''

Snape sent him an unamused look. ''I require to put a drop of your blood into this potion. I expect you not to start whining about your finger being cut,'' Snape pulled out a bottle with a red-purpleish liquid. Harry wrinkled his nose, was it a red cabbage juice?

The boy was somewhat taken by surprise the teacher actually bothered to explain what he was about to do this time. He stretched out his hand and waited for a brief pain in his index finger. As Snape had made a small cut in student's finger, Harry watched the drop fall into the bottle. At this point he wasn't surprised that nothing happened – the potion still looked rather red-cabbage-juicy. Judging by the look on Snape's face, the former spy wasn't surprised by the outcome as well.

''Well, Potter, I have to admit – you possess a remarkable talent regarding getting yourself in trouble,'' the Potions Master huffed. ''No doubt you take it after your father,'' he added venomously.

Harry shrugged. Maybe few days ago he would have argued with Snape over the slander of James Potter's name. Or maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe he wouldn't – even though his patronus was a stag, like his dad's, his connection to his dad had somewhat weakened when he'd learnt his dad had been a bully. The information had also stained his relationship with Sirius and Lupin. Maybe some things were never meant to be discovered. ''I guess I do,'' he said non-commitally.

Snape grumbled. ''Be assured the staff is doing everything in our power to help you, Potter. Even though you claim you don't know what caused the curse, we are going to find it out and cure it. And then I am going to make sure you are not allowed to take a Potions N.E.W.T. Merlin knows what will you get yourself into once you become an Auror apprentice,'' the teacher waited a few seconds for a response. Having received none, he grimaced and walked away.

---

Minerva eyed Severus scrutinisingly during the weekly meeting. ''Sweet Merlin, do you sleep at all?''

Poppy cleared her throat. ''I've been telling him he's working too hard, but it's like talking to a brick wall.''

''Yes, I have, Minerva.'' Going three days in a row with no sleep, only drinking the energising potion, then sleeping for five hours and going another three days without sleep might not have been the healthiest practice, but it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. ''May we return to the subject? So, as I was saying, my best lead are the spells guarding the castle.''

''Which one, Snape? There are multiple spells guarding the school,'' Jocasta pointed out.

''One of the original ones, created by the Founders themselves. The medieval scripts, if we may rely on them, indicate the Founders have designed a spell to inflict a curse on anyone trying to penetrate into the walls in an act against the wizardkind.''

''Potter has never done anything to harm Hogwarts or the wizardkind. On the contrary, he had saved the school and the wixen,'' Minerva reminded. ''Why would such a curse have befallen him?''

Severus knew the question would eventually present itself. Once he'd heard about the curse mentioned in the poem, he had asked it himself as well. The answer had arrived quickly. For days Severus had mulled over disclosing his reasoning to his colleagues. The war was over, yet it didn't feel right to let them know. ''We must not forget about the connection between Potter and the Dark Lord at the time,'' he explained shortly, not wanting to lay his cards on the table just yet.

Jocasta raised her eyebrow. ''So you want to tell us the curse was somehow misguided and hit Potter instead of Voldemort?''

''I was merely saying we should take such an eventuality into consideration,'' Severus spoke calmly.

Poppy furrowed her forehead, trying to digest what was told. ''The battle took place over six months ago. That's a lot for a duration of curse, keeping in mind Potter started showing symptoms only recently. However,'' at this point the matron was thinking aloud. ''We know the curse was designed not to be easily identified. There are known cases of curses who have surfaced years after having been cast. And if the curse truly was created by the Founders, there are potentially no limits to its potency.''

''What the scripts say about the curse, Severus?'' Minerva offered the man her entire attention.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''The scripts are vague in description. To quote a passage from the Song of the Four Founders:

by the virtue of Gryffindor's bravery,

to bring doom upon the insidious treachery,

a curse onto those who dare

raise their hand against the walls

their life shall be as a mare,

their doomed fate could not be worse

O! you poor souls

who cowardly your own kind have torn

it is true what it is said

you had better never been born.''

Jocasta wordlessly moved her mouth to the rhythm of the poem. When Severus finished, she spoke aloud, yet absent-mindedly, as if she was lost in thought. ''And the brightest amongst the wixen kind/have made up their brilliant mind:/to forbid Apparition/Ravenclaw's wit,/to keep muggles astray/Slytherin's deceit,/to give creatures their way/Hufflepuffs' kindness,/by the virtue of Gryffindor's bravery,/to bring doom upon the insidious treachery,/a curse onto those who dare/raise their hand against the walls/their life shall be as a mare,/their doomed fate could not be worse/O! you poor souls/who cowardly your own kind have torn/it is true what it is said/you had better never been born.''

Minerva narrowed her eyes at the woman. ''You know that poem, Jocasta?''

The retired Auror blinked, focusing her gaze on the Headmistress. ''The passage used to be recited during the Auror appointment ceremony a long time ago, even before my times. I come from a family of Aurors,'' she explained. ''My parents made me recite the passage. You can imagine how deeply disappointed they were when the Ministry changed the ceremony protocol and removed the poem.''

''Interesting discovery. Does it bring us any closer to solving the problem?'' Minerva's gaze wondered from Jocasta to Severus.

''I have yet to find a text on removing the curse. Regretfully, I haven't even encountered a reading that would name the curse,'' Severus said.

''Certainly it doesn't match any curse known to me. I regret to say it, but I think it's the high time we moved Potter to St. Mungo's,'' Poppy decided firmly.

Severus nodded. No doubt the curse was growing in strength. He hated to see those mischievous green eyes so similar to the ones he kept in the memory of his childhood become more and more apathetic.

Chapter Text

''Mione, give it a rest!'' Ron pleaded when his girlfriend grabbed a seventh tome of a thick book.

Hermione sat down huffing loudly. ''You'd better stop whining and lend me a hand, Ronald!''

''But what exactly are you trying to achieve?'' Ron asked tiredly. ''Look we all know you are super smart, but do you think you'll figure out on your own something McGonagall, Snape and Pomfrey haven't yet?''

Hermione at this point was anxiously skimming through the tome. ''No, not on my own if you help me.''

Ginny covered her mouth and looked away. ''I'm sure the Mungo's healers will find out what is wrong with Harry.''

''McGonagall and the rest know what they are facing requires better equipment and people with more expertise in the field of magical disease if they decided to sent Harry to St. Mungo's. Maybe they need a gentle push in the right direction?'' Hermione bit her finger.

''The healers at St. Mungo's are as competent as one could get. They cured our dad,'' Ginny reasoned, but rather to calm herself down than to ease her friend's worries.

''Yeah! And Katie,'' Ron seconded his sister.

Hermione tapped her finger against the desk. ''But you can't say Snape isn't an expert in the area of curses. And O'Cathail is a retired Auror, and if they haven't already figured it out-''

''Hermione, you're overthinking it,'' Ron said, but he really didn't look sold on his own words.

''So you think we should sit with our arms crossed and hope for the best?!'' Hermione angrily slammed the book.

''Hermione!'' Ron hissed whispering. ''You're gonna attract the wraith.''

''Ugh, it's just-why they are not telling us anything?!''

''You're right – they should keep us informed. We're Harry's family!'' Ginny scoffed. ''And we know nothing.''

'Yeah, and so what? We can't just walk in and ask Snape about the curse,'' Ron pointed out.

Ginny's eyes widened with a spark of mischief shining in them. ''Guys, I think I've got an idea''.

''Careful how you walk!'' Ginny hissed. ''You stepped on my toe.''

''It wasn't my idea to use Harry's cloak,'' Ron huffed, squished between his sister and his girlfriend.

''Well, we aren't eleven-year-olds anymore,'' Hermione pointed out. ''We should've probably taken that into consideration,'' she said looking down at their bent knees. It was rather difficult to walk half-bent in a group of three under a cloak without making any part of anyone's body visible.

''Oh, then leave and I'll handle it myself,'' Ginny whispered angrily.

''Shhh!'' Hermione ordered as they heard a clack of elderly woman shoes against the stone floor.

Ron tilted his head curiously. ''Sounds like aunt Muriel, doesn't it?'' The girls shot him a glare and his raised his hands to his chest in a mock-surrender. He was about to turn around to see who was walking, but Hermione's hand prevented him from doing so.

''No,'' Hermione soundlessly mouthed.

Jocasta O'Cathail walked down the dungeon with a vigor that rather contrasted her age, ignorant to the presence of her students. Her grey hair was pulled back into a practical bun, no doubt a habit from her Auror times.

''Is seems that we're not the only ones to pay the git a visit today,'' Ron noted.

''This is our chance,'' Ginny gestured at the DADA teacher's direction and the trio carefully tip-toed after the woman.

O'Cathail knocked on the door of the Potions Master's office, which was followed by unmistakable growl stating ''Come in''.

The retired Auror opened the door and as she was about to begin closing it, Hermione wordlessly cast a slowing-down spell on it and the students sneaked into the office. They were welcomed by the sight of Snape sitting at his desk, drowning in so many books he put Hermione's best efforts to shame.

''O'Cathail, to what do I owe the pleasure?'' Snape's silky voice filled the room.

''I think you should call Argus to take a look at your door,'' she said pulling the doorknob of the slowed-down door. ''It would appear the hinges are in a dire need of oiling.''

''Do they now?'' Snape eyed the door cautiously. ''They were perfectly intact last time I walked in.''

Now it was O'Cathail's turn at sceptical look. ''And when that was if I may ask? Do you ever leave this... lair?'' she said with disgust and Ron covered his mouth to muffle his snort. ''I suppose I should be appreciative of your dedication, inspite of how dysfunctional it is. However, I feel obliged to remind you Potter is mine responsibility, not yours. I val-''

''He is precisely my darned responsibility!'' Snape snapped, his black eyes appeared to be wild yet unreadable. The teenagers felt blood draining from their faces.

The retired Auror took a step towards Potions Master's desk and lifted a book from a heap, apparently unmoved by the sudden outburst of her colleague. ''How long do you think you can carry on like that?'' she shook the book.

Snape took the book from her hand with a sharp movement of his hand and put it back. He looked like a man who had forgotten the meaning of sleep. He definitely looked more put together in classes. ''Exactly as long as is required,'' he said harshly. ''Which hopefully won't be much longer. I think I found the answer as to what has befallen your precious saviour of the wizardkind. And now that I have named the problem at hand, I have started looking for the means of banishing it.''

O'Cathail intertwined her fingers on her abdomen. ''I am glad to hear that. Actually,'' she said pulling a chair for herself closer, making its legs unpleasantly creak against the floor. ''I have a thesis on my own and I wanted to discuss it with you. I'm curious how similar our diagnoses are, Snape. I think you were right that the Song of the Four Founders was a crucial clue. To think I've dedicated my life to the Auror department and no one ever mentioned that curse even though the poem used to be the major part of the appointment ceremony for centuries!'' she scoffed.

''If we're talking about the same curse, my guess is that it simply had fallen into obscurity. I haven't even come across a text that would mention its name,'' Snape scorned.

O'Cathail crossed her legs. ''And here's where I have an upper hand, Snape. You may have been a spy, but I am a retired Auror with long Auror traditions in my family. Kingsley kindly granted me access to the department's library.''

''I congratulate you, O'Cathail,'' Snape said flatly. ''So, is the Minister aware of our current Potter situation?''

''Before you get a chance to get mad at me, be aware that St. Mungo's had informed him before I even asked for permission to utilise the library.''

''Splendid,'' Snape said unamused.

''Now,'' O'Cathail clapped her hands. ''Back to the main topic-''

Snape carefully raised his hand and put his finger to his lips. His restless eyes were scanning the room. ''I think we have a company. And if my intuition is not failing me, I'm betting on your Gryffindors.''

O'Cathail furrowed her eyebrows and it would appear she would have moved her ears like a dog if she could. ''I think you are right,'' she said getting up. ''We are not alone here.''

The trio exchanged looks in panic. There was no way of running away without revealing their presence. They huddled together in hopes of making themselves smaller and harder to detect.

''Let's cut it short – show yourselves so we don't have to play the game of hide-and-seek,'' O'Cathail said seemingly to the void, but the teenagers had a feeling she could see through the Invisibility Cloak.

Snape theatrically sighed. ''I thought you have learnt thus far that Potter and his friends rarely act reasonable. Trying to knock some sense into them is a futile endeavour.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in anger – how dare Snape suggest she was acting reckless? She was always careful and dutiful. As she was about to take a step forward it was Ron's turn to stop her.

''Whoever you are, don't test my patience,'' O'Cathail said firmly, walking around the office with her hands stretched out, ready to grasp intruders.

Ginny took a step back, but her back hit the wall. Hearing the creak of the floor she cringed at the sound, similarly to her companions.

O'Cathail was surprisingly swift for her age. Her hand found the cloak and pulled it down, revealing three frightened Gryffindors.

''I cannot say I am surprised,'' Snape said in a bored tone.

''I suppose I shouldn't be as well, but I must admit I expected better from my Gryffindors,'' O'Cathail voice was sharp and cutting. ''What are you even doing here?''

''Don't make me laugh, O'Cathail. That is quite obvious – Potter's friends wanted to gather information regarding Potter's state and in their endless wisdom decided to spy on us instead of simply asking. Rather typical for them, it should be noted.''

DADA teacher narrowed her eyes. ''Is that true?''

''You wouldn't tell us anything anyway!'' Ginny protested. ''No one ever does.''

Snape crossed his arms. ''Have it crossed your minds that some things are better left for adults to take care of?''

Ron clenched his fists. ''We are adults, Snape! We have the right to know how Harry is doing!''

''Exactly!'' Hermione seconded her boyfriend. ''We're not children anymore, Professor. We want to hear the truth, not to be constantly assured everything is fine when it's clearly not.''

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' O'Cathail announced coldly.

''Only five for the three of them instead of five per capita?'' Snape shook his head. ''You are too lenient, O'Cathail.''

The retired Auror only glared briefly at the retired spy and returned her attention to the students. ''Now leave and return to the Gryffindor Tower. I'll make sure to check if you went directly to the Tower as ordered,'' O'Cathail intertwined her fingers.

''But what about Harry?'' Hermione asked sheepishly.

O'Cathail furrowed her eyebrows. ''Had you asked me instead of sneaking on us, I would have told you right away, but you have disappointed me. Behave properly and I may reconsider my decision. Now off you go!''

Gryffindors left the office with their heads lowered in shame. As the door closed behind them, Hermione sighed. ''In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea to spy on a conversation of a retired Auror and a retired spy.''

Ginny awkwardly scratched the back of her neck. ''Yeah, but it usually worked for you.''

Ron put his finger to his lips. ''Sh!'' he said putting his ear to the door and waving at the girls to join him. Unfortunately the only thing they heard was 'Muffliato'.

''Damn it, Snape,'' Ron muttered under his breath.

---

The conversation with Jocasta eased Severus' mind a little bit – it appeared they were mostly in agreement with regard to the nature of the curse. However, conclusion of the stage of diagnosis brought another issue – how to find a reversal spell or a cure for the curse so rare and so forgotten. The head of the Gryffindor house promised to look for a solution in the Auror department library, while Severus' job was scouring the Hogwarts library.

Severus was at Poppy's mercy as the Matron was the one to bring news of Potter's well-being. As long as the brat had stayed in the Hospital Wing the Potions Master had had an easy access to him. Naturally, he still could go to St. Mungo's and assess the brat's condition on his own, but somehow he found the idea repulsive. Whenever he considered it, the sight of the birthmark on Potter's arm appeared in Severus mind. The sight that brought forward a revolting suggestion that Lily's son had something in him of Thobias Snape.

And the news weren't too optimistic – healers at St. Mungo's were clueless. According to Poppy they had tried several potions, but none of them had done as little as at least slowing down the curse. While Poppy hadn't mentioned it, Severus had read between the lines that one of the 'cures' probably had worsened the boy's condition. Great, as if Severus needed more troubles.

Severus decided to leave the conversation with the healers to the retired Auror. If they started asking wrong questions Severus might be forced to tell them about Potter having been Dark Lord's horcrux and that was a discussion Severus wanted to avoid. All the more so he had kept the thing away from Minerva, Poppy and Jocasta, and frankly he didn't believe the fact to be a crucial piece of information in regard to finding a cure. Severus sincerely hoped after the talk with Jocasta the healers would be able to come up with a solution quicker than the Hogwarts staff. He was done with Potter and the troubles he attracted. Why couldn't the brat survive at least one damned year at Hogwarts without getting himself in danger?

Nevertheless, Severus didn't cease his own research. The stack of books on his desk wasn't getting any smaller, not to mention the assignments of his students he had to read – after all Potter getting himself cursed was no excuse for a decline in the quality of Severus' classes. Now that Potter's friends had seen him off-duty, the annoying Gryffindors were glancing at him more intrigued than ever and Severus knew it wasn't a well-meant curiosity. The dunderheads had never had any respect for Severus, so there was no harm in the action, but it irritated the teacher.

It was around 3 A.M. when Severus was leaning over a tome dedicated to curse repellents and cures with the only light present in the room being the light of his wand. It must have been at least tenth book on the matter he had read looking for the cure. Severus rubbed his forehead, the answer had to be somewhere there! He felt his hand tremble and exhaled slowly to calm himself down. The sleep deprivation must have been finally getting to him. But the thing Poppy had said the previous day... No, he must not think about it, he decided clenching his fist.

''Severus, St. Mungo's contacted me,'' Poppy had said carefully.

No, Severus closed his eyes, trying to occlude. He had no time for that.

''I'm afraid the curse is much more dangerous than we had initially thought,'' the Matron had spoken calmly.

No, no, no, Severus shook his head, covering his ears even though the sound came from his memory.

''Potter's condition started suddenly detoriorating. Naturally, the most competent witches and wizards are monitoring Potter's state, but I think we shouldn't be lying to each other after everything we've been through-''

No, no, no, Severus kept shaking his head. ''No!'' he breathed heavily. He got up and paced around his office. He eyed the stack of books frantically. The answer had to be somewhere out there. Or maybe he had been looking in the wrong places. He was about to head for the library when he recalled it was closed at this ungodly hour.

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his large nose. Minerva was right – he wasn't helping anyone in this state. He needed to face the issue with clarity of mind, which he now clearly lacked. He grabbed a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion and headed for his bedroom instead.

Thankfully the following day was Saturday, which meant Severus didn't have to get up early for classes and could dedicate his time to the research. Just as he was done with his morning routine a spectral cat appeared in his room.

''I apologise for the early hour, but we need to conduct a meeting in my office,'' the cat spoke with Minerva's voice.

''Naturally, Minevra, I'm on my way,'' Severus nodded. On the outside he kept his composure with trained mastery of a spy, but on the inside his guts twisted. Minerva wouldn't have called a meeting outside their schedule if it was something of lesser importance. And currently there was only one thing of high importance that required Severus' presence.

Severus paced quickly towards the Headmistress' office, his breakfast be damned. He stopped in front of the gargoyle. ''Mandrake,'' he said impatiently and the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Having gotten to the top of the staircase and walked through the door to the office he was met with the sight of three women looking at him. Wonderful, of course he had to be the last person to make it to the meeting.

No one seemed to be offended by his late arrival, though. ''Severus, thank you for arriving promptly. Without further ado, Poppy and I have received an update on Potter. Unfortunately I don't have good news,'' the woman's voice was burdened with worry. ''I'm not going to beat around the bush, we don't have the time for that. Harry is comatose since yesterday evening,'' she inhaled deeply and covered her mouth.

The Matron looked at the Headmistress who was currently rendered speechless. ''The healers took your lead, but this kind of curse is unknown to them. They said they needed more time, but they fear, and I share their assessment, that the kid doesn't have that much time,'' she said carefully glancing sheepishly at Severus as if she was approaching a wild wounded animal. Then she quickly looked away and her gaze landed on Jocasta. ''It's all in your hands now.''

Severus felt his blood pressure speed up, but he managed to keep the stoical facade. ''And how much time does he have?'' his voice was steady and composed, but his muscles tensed.

''It's hard to tell, we don't know how the curse is going to behave in the following days. Until now it has been progressing slowly, but at the current rate? Two weeks if it doesn't get more violent.''

''The curse is clearly tied to Hogwarts. It took on a more aggresive route after Potter had been moved to St. Mungo's. Maybe we should try moving him back here?'' Jocasta suggested.

''I don't know if it is safe to move him in that state,'' Poppy noted.

''It could buy us some more time,'' the DADA teacher reasoned.

''It could also make it even worse,'' Poppy reminded.

Severus stared at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. ''And what of you? Don't you have anything to say?'' he challenged the portrait. ''Albus kept so many secrets. I know he had confided in you at least some of them. Is Potter not worth of your help once he had served his purpose? Does none of you know anything about the curse that was meant to protect Hogwarts?'' his sight slid through the numerous portraits of the past headmasters, most of which pretended to be asleep. Severus clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. ''You truly are a waste of space on the wall,'' he said with an honest contempt.

''Severus!'' Minerva rebuked him. ''I'm sure the past headmasters would have helped us had they known the solution.'' She took off her glasses and cleaned them, trying to hide the tremble of her hands. ''How is your research going?''

''I have checked the department library, but neither The Secretive Hogwarts, the only book to mention the name of the Amens, curse nor any other book seems to note any means of countering the curse. However, as Snape had said the curse most likely attacked Potter having been fooled by the connection between Voldemort and the boy. My theory, completely unsupported by any resource, so take it with a grain of salt – is that there isn't one way of fighting the curse. I suspect that the curse is meant to match its victim, similarly to how boggarts work,'' Jocasta explained.

Severus put his colleague's theory through everything he had learnt thus far. ''While I do believe the curse was meant for the Dark Lord,'' he thought aloud. ''Your theory doesn't seem right. I don't think the curse is meant to fit each victim individually. On the contrary, I believe the Founders came up with a curse that was meant to be effective against every individual, at least in theory. But the Dark Lord did something the Founders apparently hadn't taken into consideration – he found a way to make himself immortal even after losing his body,'' he drummed his fingers against the backrest of a chair he was leaning against. ''Therefore the curse couldn't affect the Dark Lord, so it hit another person that in some way matched the Dark Lord.'' A spark of a new idea appeared in his mind and he felt an irresistible urge to follow it. ''Minerva, if you could excuse me, I need to return to my research. Thank you, O'Cathail,'' he bowed politely at the DADA teacher. ''Your observations have been most insightful.''

He returned to the dungeon and dived into the books once more, frantically skimming through thick tomes. The curse couldn't take down the Dark Lord, but it could take down Potter. Or did it? There had to be a reason why the curse showed symptoms after six months after having inflicted the brat. No, they had already discussed this matter – the curse was supposed not to show symptoms until the late stage. Moreover, the Dark Lord had died the same day Potter most likely had been inflicted with the curse.

Severus ignored the rumbling in his stomach – most likely he had not only skipped breakfast but also lunch by now. It could wait. The brat could not, according to Poppy and the healers. Suddenly a knot in his stomach appeared, definitely not caused by hunger. Two weeks or less, that's what Poppy had said. A knot similar to the terror he had felt when he had found out the Dark Lord had decided the prophecy meant Potter's son. But the brat wasn't Potter's son after all, was he? It was high time he stopped fooling himself, the chances of the Bloodline potion being faulty were minuscule. A choked sound escaped his lips and he muffled it with his hand, which was also trembling. He knot turned into a lump in his lungs and he felt like suffocating.

No, he inhaled slowly in an attempt to compose himself, he was stronger than that. He had lived through worse. He had witnessed a gruesome death of his colleague. He had killed his superior against his own will. He would not let emotions get in the way – he couldn't afford the luxury. It was his burden to bear silently. He wasn't allowed to show emotions – the outcome of the war had once depended on hiding them. He couldn't show them nor then nor now nor ever. They were others privilege. 'Why, let the strucken deer go weep/The hart ungalled play/For some must watch, while some must sleep/Thus runs the world away' as had written the muggle playwright.

But if he didn't find the solution in time, and he still was nowhere near finding it, Lily's son was going to die. His own son, he realised with the clarity that scared him. The child he was never supposed to have.

He dug his fingers into his greasy hair and tugged at them in frustration. Why, why it had to be the brat? Why couldn't the curse have hit Severus instead? God knew Severus deserved is so much more for his sinful life. Maybe it was the punishment for all his wrongs, to witness his child's death. No, his eyes shined with determination, he would not allow that. Even if it was his last deed. For Lily.

He closed his eyes pushing aside all the emotional turmoil. He needed to focus and put the pieces of the puzzle together. The Amens curse. The Dark Lord. The connection between Potter and the Dark Lord. The horcrux. The curse couldn't have affected the Dark Lord, because he had split his soul... He had split it into multiple pieces, so even when one piece was gone, the Dark Lord persisted.

When he left his office, having set his mind on the reading that could bring him closer to the cure, it was already dark outside. Frankly, it wasn't telling much in December when days were so short. The empty, dark corridors of the school were much more informative. The only source of light beside Severus own Lumos-lit wand was a lamp dangling from Flich's hand. Mrs Norris' eyes eerily reflected the light.

What seemed to be an initial sadistic satisfaction on Filch's face morphed into disappointment. ''Oh, it's only you,'' he grumbled.

''Yes, Argus, it's only me,'' Severus' sneer matched the one of the other man.

''I rarely see you patrolling the corridors these days,'' Filch pointed out and it appeared that he wanted to join Severus in his walk down the corridor.

''I can only hope things are going to return to normality soon,'' Severus said flatly, not feeling like talking to the caretaker. Mrs. Norris curiously eyed Severus as if the cat was trying to guess what matters were hurrying him so. ''I would not want to keep you from your duty, Argus,'' he added more forcefully when it became obvious the man didn't take the cue.

Filch grimaced distastefully and nodded. ''Yes, there might a student out of bed somewhere out there,'' he turned around and spoke quieter but not quiet enough to prevent Severus from overhearing. ''Let's go, my sweet, it would appear we are not welcome in this company.''

Severus walked past the gargoyle and up the stone spiral staircase. The Headmistress office was currently unoccupied. He didn't want to bother the woman, Merlin knew she had enough worries on her head. Moreover, he was almost certain she wouldn't mind if Severus borrowed some books.

He he gently approached the bookshelf. Even in the dim light is his wand his eyes quickly spied the book with its cover made of black worn out leather. He carefully took the book from the bookshelf and read the table of contents, even though he had already held the book in his hands. Hopefully it would give him the answers he needed.

''My word, Severus, so you have started-'' the portrait of Albus Dumbledore observed him with its kind eyes.

Severus forcefully closed the book, interrupting the portrait with an action that usually wasn't that loud. ''Don't,'' he grimaced, baring his crooked teeth at the portrait. ''You have no right.''

But the portrait wasn't taken aback by the display of hostility. On the contrary, it remained irritatingly calm and friendly. For a fraction of a second Severus fantasised about treating it with a slicing curse. ''Haven't you requested my assistance earlier today?''

''I have and you had nothing to say. It would be wiser to keep your silence now,'' Severus' voice was cutting.

The kind eyes twinkled at him from behind the half-moon glasses. ''I pity the circumstances have forced you to hide the best part of you, Severus. Now that the war is over you don't have to wear that mask anymore. There is no shame in caring, my boy. The dedication you have for Li-''

''I have warned you. He had no right to speak of those things and neither have you,'' Severus seethed and left the office with the book in tow before he had the chance to do something he was about to regret later.

---

On Wednesday Severus walked in, briefly eyeing the boy lying in a hospital bed. The plan was risky, but with each passing day the news of the brat's condition grew only worse and worse. There was no way he was going to come up with a better solution in a reasonable time. As far as he was concerned Jocasta was still franctically looking for any countermeasure against the curse, miles behind Severus. Time was running out. It was his duty to act while they still had it.

His sight landed on a nurse, drawing her attention.

''It's nice of you to come and visit him,'' the witch said, sadness clear in her eyes. ''I'm not sure if he'll be able to hear you, but,'' she lowered her voice. ''If you have anything to say, do it now, he doesn't have much time left, Snape. Such a shame, he's still a child,'' she sighed. ''And to think he defeated Voldemort himself only to die months later due to a curse.''

Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''On that matter, I came here to see what can I do to prevent that eventuality.''

''Healers have tried nearly everything, but if you think you can help him, do it,'' her voice was firm as if Snape were her subordinate.

The man nodded. ''I will. However I've got one request to make – may Mr. Potter and me be left alone for the time of the treatment?'' paradoxically his voice inspite of being silky and rather soft, was equally demanding as the nurse'.

Woman's eyes widened at the strange request, but seeing that Snape wasn't going to change his mind she yielded. ''I really shouldn't allow that, but you can't hurt him more than he's already hurt. Alright, I agree,'' she said unwillingly, visibly struggling to let the man break the hospital rules. ''Let me know when you are finished. I wish you the best of luck,'' her eyes took a kinder shape as she spoke the last sentence.

Only when the door was closed, leaving only two people in the room, Severus took a chair, put it by Potter's side and sat down. Now he dared to look at the boy more closely. He'd always seen James in the boy, except for his, now closed, eyes. During those last few months he began to see some of his own qualities in the child. Maybe it was foolish endeavour, maybe he wanted to convince himself of his fatherhood for... What for exactly? To have one last victory over his old enemy?

Severus exhaled slowly and hesitatly took the boy's hand. It was cold to the touch, colder than the last time he had examined the boy. He did not bother rolling up Harry's sleeve. He did not want to see the birthmark on Gryffindor's upper arm once again, so similar to the one that had adorned Thobias Snape's arm. The man closed his eyes and lowered his head. He had to try to save this stupid child for Lily's sake, no matter the cost. Maybe it was the reason why he had survived the war – to save Potter one last time.

Severus shook his head as if it would repel doubts lingering in his mind. There was no time to look for alternatives. This was the only way, consequences be damned.

---

Snape stumbled out of the the fireplace in his office pale-faced, with his hair more unkept than usual and running out of breath. He steadied himself against the stone frame of the fireplace and with the remaining energy he cast a Muffliato before his knees gave way. He landed on them and only thanks to his quick reflexes even in this weakened state his hands found their way to meet the ground before his face did. He panted heavily as his shoulders shook. His long greasy hair slid down his shoulders, concealing his face. With each ragged exhale the sound that came out of his mouth was more and more harsh. Each pained sigh was getting louder, slowly turning into scream.

Severus screamed for the thorn in his soul residing there for years, now only pushed deeper into the wound. The thorn he thought he'd learnt to ignore by now. He screamed for his powerlessness and for the things he'd been forced to do against his will. He screamed for his ignited anger at the stupid, foolish, imbecile brat that by all means was supposed to be his enemy's son. He screamed for his endless loathing for himself, for having brought death upon Lily and nearly having brought death upon his own child unbeknownst to him. For having survived the damned war. Severus Snape screamed.

And he sobbed. Like he hadn't since he found out about Lily's death. He sobbed and he felt like he was about to choke on his own sobs. ''I'm sorry, Lily,'' he croaked. He wouldn't ask for forgiveness. He was well aware he didn't deserve it. His regret would never undo any of his deeds. It would never bring Lily back. I wouldn't remove the Dark Mark from his skin. ''I wish there was another way.''

Finally his arms grew tired as well and Severus chest fell the ground. As his head rested on the floor its coolness soothed his anguish. He just lay there, a pathetic lump of black robes and black hair, not finding the strength nor the will to get up.

The creak of the door encouraged him to look up.

''My goodness, Severus, what happened?'' having spotted her colleague on the floor with his wand cast carelessly aside, Minerva rushed to his side.

''I did exactly what you told me not to do,'' he sneered. ''I overexerted myself,'' he added seeing the puzzled expression on Minerva's face.

Helping the Potions Master get to his feet, the Headmistress asked. ''Shouldn't you go and see Poppy, Severus?''

''I am certain Poppy has more pushing matters to attend,'' he sighed tiredly sitting in the chair.

Minerva walked to the shelves and picked up a potion. ''I may not be a Potions Mistress, but I know a thing or two,'' she smiled softly handing her colleague a bottle. The witch took a sit opposite of Severus as he downed the potion. ''Whatever you have done to get yourself into this state, it was effective. Saint Mungo's healers contacted me – they say Harry will recover. You truly are one of the most knowledgeable wizards of our times on the matter of curses. Oh, what would we do without you?''

Severus closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards, resting it against the chair's backrest. ''I will not try to deny it. That is why I should be teaching DADA instead of Potions.''

A smirk crept upon Minerva's lips. ''Well, Severus, unfortunately, you also happen to be one of the most skilled Potioneers of our times.''

''The torment of a renaissance man will never cease, so it seems.''

Chapter Text

Harry felt like he was floating in nothingness, indifferent to the world. Indifferent even to his own existence. He was surrounded by some unidentified sort of blackness. He was cold and normally it would have bothered him, but now he didn't even perceive it as something unpleasant. It seemed to him as if the coldness flowed through and out of his body, leaving him in this state of comfortable impassiveness. It was probably the only the only stimulus his sense of touch currently registered – Harry wasn't even sure if he was able to feel his body at all. And it didn't bother him.

The only other thing his body registered from the outside world was some murmur. The sound was more akin to the background static noise, undisturbing his apathy. And there he was, still floating calmly, not sure if it was real, not sure if he was alive and absolutely unconcerned by any eventuality.

The murmur grew a bit louder as if its source came closer. Harry continued to be indifferent to the sound. But the sound grew louder and louder.

''...Ooompan...'' the noise sounded like it tried to make sense and failed at the task spectacularly.

''Meeeh... searumpo...'' sounds gradually started forming into words. Kinda.

''Meeeh...ssaest... aaarummmpo...'' the sound monotonously went on without interrupting the floating sensation.

''Annissaessst... animpo...'' for the first time in what Harry perceived to be a century he felt annoyed. The noise sounded awfully like words, yet he couldn't make any sense of them.

''Tecce... merumpo...'' Harry decided to ignore the murmur.

''Twwwaes,'' the pattern of chant changed, not giving Harry a chance at deciphering the first one. For the second time since the murmur had started Harry felt annoyance. ''...Ahsea-am...'' the noise didn't seem to care if it interrupted Harry's comfortable numbness.

''Accime...'' at this point the murmur was alike an annoying fly or a mosquito buzzing near his ear.

''Accipe...'' the murmur suggested gently and Harry realised he had actually heard that word before.

''Accipe,'' the sound was gathering more pronounced shape like it had decided what it needs to be.

''Accipe,'' the sound – no, a voice, a human voice – repeated.

''Accipe,'' the voice was getting more pressing and Harry put all of his willpower into ignoring it.

''Accipe,'' the voice demanded and it was becoming clear it would not give up until Harry was persuaded to follow its request. Where had he heard that silky voice?

''Accipe!'' Harry knew that the voice was familiar.

''Accipio,'' Harry thought, having a feeling it was the correct way to respond to the demand.

''Accipe!''

''Accipio!'' Harry thought angrily in a mental equivalent of 'alright, alright, I'll do as you want, just leave me alone'.

''Accipe!''

''Accipio!'' how many times the voice was going to ask him the same thing? The had answered, hadn't he?

And then something unexpected happened – the coldness flowing through his body was becoming warmer. And warmer. It reminded Harry of cold water in a bathtub steadily increasing its temperature once hot water started pouring. The warm sensation didn't only flow in and out of his body, it stayed and circulated inside. It felt unusual and oddly nice, like he was reclaiming sense in a numb limb. It felt like a new lifeforce was entering his body and encouraging him to live, to sing, to laugh. It felt protective like a warm blanket.

Harry hesistantly blinked, having woken up from a strange dream. He wanted to raise his head to get a better look at the black blur few meters away from him, but he didn't find the strength to move his neck muscles. His second thought was to grab his glasses to get the clarity of vision, alas, his arm wouldn't listen either.

Black blur unsteadily left the room, stopping for a few seconds in the doorframe and Harry was embraced by the gentle arms of Morpheus.

---

''Sweet Merlin! You are awake, Potter!'' a nurse was pleasantly surprised.

Harry wrinkled his nose, trying to focus on woman's face. He checked if he was able to reach for his glasses and this time his body followed his will. Drowsily he put on his glasses, nearly sticking a temple tip into his eye.

''Marvellous!'' Harry was surprised the nurse was that happy to see him awake. ''Oh, we almost lost our hopes. St. Mungo's really could get a use of a man like Snape.''

''Snape?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows. His brain felt as if somebody had cast a slowing-down spell on it. The weird sensation in his gut didn't make gathering his thoughts any easier. ''Snape was here?''

''Naturally,'' the nurse explained calmly. ''He was the one to help you, child.''

''Oh,'' was the only word his mind was currently able to process. Yes, Snape made sense, he must have been that black blur.

With a wave of her wand the nurse made a glass of water appear in her hand. ''Here,'' she helped Harry sit up. ''You must be parched,'' she chuckled softly when Harry downed the glass. He didn't even realise he had been this thirsty. ''You should rest,'' she took the glass from Harry's hand. ''I'll call a healer.''

Harry lay back and closed his eyes, hoping the lack of light would make it easier for him to concentrate. Some kind of shapeless feeling of something being off tickled his stomach.

The next day Harry's friends were granted permission to see him. Harry's face lit up with a brightest smile when he spotted his friends in the doorway. ''Guys!''

''Harry!'' the three Gryffindors yelled happily. Ginny immediately latched herself at her boyfriend, but Hermione and Ron weren't far behind as soon enough they locked Harry in a tight embrace.

''We were so worried about you,'' Ginny squeezed Harry's by his neck, making the boy wonder for a second if she was going to choke him.

''How are you, mate?'' Ron asked.

''We've tried to gather information-'' Hermione started explaining and Harry didn't know whom should he hug back first.

''Are you alright, Harry? You're still quite pale,'' Ginny said worriedly.

''Guys! Guys!'' Harry laughed. ''Relax!'' Seeing their confused expressions, he elaborated. ''I'm feeling much better already, don't worry. I just can't hold three simultaneous conversations!''

''Oh, that's a relief!'' the concern left Hermione's features. ''As I was saying,'' Ron rolled his eyes, not finding the courage to interrupt his girlfriend. ''When you were moved to St. Mungo's we tried to find out what was wrong with you-''

''They wouldn't even let us visit you,'' Ginny complained. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest for having refused visits from his friends when asked if he was willing to take visitors. It was hard to explain, but back then it had felt too bothersome. Apparently the hospital staff hadn't told his friends it had been Harry who turned them away. As much as he knew he shouldn't lie to his friends, he preferred it stayed that way.

''Yeah, so we sneaked to Snape's office-'' Ron cut in, not wanting to be left out from the conversation.

''You what?'' Harry snorted, knowing well how the story ended. In hindsight he could see why spying on the spy had never worked out.

''Oi, let me finish!'' Ron made an offended face. ''Besides, it was Ginny's idea. Anyways, O'Cathail was there too and they discussed the curse, but we were kicked out before they got to any useful information.''

''However,'' Hermione said with a trademark know-it-all expression painted all over her face. ''They mentioned the Song of The Four Founders. O'Cathail said it was their main lead, so we tried to investigate it further. Unfortunately, the poem is barely even mentioned in Hogwarts, A History,'' she made a disappointed face. ''We found the poem itself in the library, but no name of the curse. O'Cathail said she had only found it in the Auror department library, but well, we don't have the access to the library.''

''Okay...'' Harry tried to sort the influx of new information. ''So what was wrong with me?''

''Based on the Song of The Four Founders and the credit Snape and O'Cathail gave it, you had fallen a victim to a curse created by Godric Gryffindor himself,'' Hermione voice was dead serious.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''Gryffindor has created a curse?''

Ginny shrugged. ''Yeah, apparently it is supposed to fend off the enemies of Hogwarts.''

''I am not an enemy of Hogwarts!'' Harry protested offended by the suggestion.

Ron made a face at his friend. ''Tell it to the castle, mate.''

Harry fell silent for a moment, digesting what he had heard.

Ginny softly squeezed his shoulder. ''Are you sure you are alright, Harry?''

''Yeah, don't worry,'' Harry waved his hand dismissively out of habit. ''It's just, uh...''

''It's what?'' Hermione observed him studiously.

Harry exhaled in defeat. ''Since I've woken up I'm having this odd sensation that something isn't right. I-ah, I don't know how to describe it,'' he admitted in defeat.

Ron's face suddenly went pale. ''Do you think-you think that,'' he lowered his voice. ''That You-Know-Who is back?''

''What?!'' Harry exclaimed, half-shocked, half-amused, absent-mindedly reaching out to touch the scar on his forehead. ''No! Voldemort isn't coming back, Ron!'' Ron let out a deep breath, relaxing a bit. ''That feeling, I know it's not serious, but it's not right. I don't even know what is wrong, it's just, uh, something,'' he cringed at how uncoordinated his own words came out.

''I think you simply need to give yourself time to recover, Harry. After all, you were attacked by a mighty curse,'' Hermione reasoned. ''It's to be expected for you to feel a little bit off.''

Harry bit his lower lip, recalling his previous train of thought. ''If the curse is tied to Hogwarts, do you think I'll be able to return to school?''

''McGonagall said she was looking forward to your return from St. Mungo's, so I guess we can assume it's safe,'' Ginny softly rubbed his arm.

---

Severus woke up to fatigue in every single fiber of his body. Nevertheless, he forced himself to get up and prepare for the day. At least it seemed that he would no longer have to deal with sick and dying Potter and that was a great improvement in his schedule. Putting on his robes he glanced at the clock and grimaced. His morning routine was already taking him longer than usual. He Accio'ed the keys to his quaters, even though he was aware he should be careful with usage of magic in the next few days, and rushed for the breakfast.

In the Great Hall he was faced once again with the irritable glances of admiration on the faces of his colleagues.

Hagrid didn't even try to stop himself from showing his gratitude to the full extend, hugging the Potions Master tightly before he got the chance at sitting at the table. ''I don' wanna think what woulda happen ter Harry if not fer yeh,'' the half-giant cried.

''I was simply performing my duty, Rubeus,'' Severus spoke calmly, waiting for the half-giant to release him.

The most uncomfortable of all were the looks he received from O'Cathail. With a trained mastery he pretended not to notice them, offering his colleague a pitcher of coffee as if the yesterday's event had never taken place. If anyone had any idea what impossible choice Severus had made, it was the retired Auror with her Auror department's library privileges.

''How are you holding up, Severus?'' Minerva watched her colleague's features. ''You look rather pale.''

''I am always pale, thank you for your concern, Minerva,'' Severus said flatly.

The Headmistress wasn't going to give up so easily. She put her hand on top of his forearm. ''I know that, Severus. Let's not forget yesterday you didn't look that well and I must point out you do not look well today. Are you sure you don't want to take a day off?''

''I'm good. I have not taken a day off for a respite ever since I began my work at Hogwarts,'' Severus said matter-of-factly.

''Maybe you should consider it then,'' Filius cut in. ''No one is going to hold it against you, Severus. We all appreciate your hard work,'' the short teacher assured.

Minerva patted Severus' hand lightly. ''I think you should listen to Filius,'' she smiled gently.

''I truly am appreciative of your support, but what is going to make me feel better is the return to the routine,'' Severus said, catching a sight of three Gryffindors curiously glancing at him. Brats.

Just as the breakfast time was running out, Hagrid excused himself and left for his hut to prepare for the classes. Severus put his utensils neatly on the plate and got up, and so did Pomona, who had to reach the greenhouse on time. Little did students know the distances between classrooms made it difficult to be punctual for teachers as well, especially after the meals. Severus took a few steps towards the exit before the darkness claimed him.

''Severus!'' Minerva ran to her colleague, who fell to the floor with a loud thud. ''Severus!'' she shook him by his shoulders. ''Filius, call Poppy,'' he ordered, while turning the Potions Master from his stomach to his back. ''Severus!''

The former spy hissed and raised his hand to rub his forehead. His black eyes hazily scanned his surroundings. ''Sss... whah?''

Minerva put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. ''Don't get up, Poppy will be here in a minute,'' she said softly, yet authoritatively.

''Don' need Poppy... mmm fine,'' Severus slurred.

''Uhuh,'' Minerva shot him an unamused look. ''Right as rain.''

''There's no need to be that coarse, Severus. You know I'm trying to help you,'' Poppy rebuked the Potions Master as he sat on the examination bed in the Hospital Wing with the most scornful expression on his face.

''And I have told you countless times I am doing alright,'' he sneered crossing his arms.

''Yes, because passing out in front of everyone is clearly a sign of good health,'' the Matron scoffed, while analysing the examination results.

''Would you prefer it if I passed out in a more secluded place than the Great Hall?'' Severus asked dryly, but upon seeing the look on Poppy's face he added. ''It would appear the spell I had performed on Potter the other day happened to be much more energy consuming than I had initially thought.''

The door to the Hospital Wing opened with a creak. Minerva's emerald robe billowed after her – a sign of her distress. ''So, how is he?'' she asked, her gaze piercing Severus.

''You've got an excellent timing, Minerva – we were just finishing. Right now it looks that Severus' magic is depleted. Luckily I've got a remedy for that,'' Poppy reached out for her medical equipment bag. ''Here,'' she handed Severus a bar of bitter chocolate. ''It should return to normal in few days. Furthermore, Severus' body is fatigued. I recommend getting a good rest,'' she smiled at the dour Potions Master.

''Thank you, Poppy,'' Severus said stiffly.

''Yes, thank you, Poppy,'' Minerva nodded. ''As for you, Severus, you are taking a sick leave.''

''With all due respect-'' Severus was about to argue, but the Headmistress interrupted him.

''This was not an offer, Severus,'' Minerva said harshly. ''As your superior I order you to take a week off. Do you have any idea what could have happened if you had fainted during Potions?''

Severus drummed his long fingers against the bar of chocolate. ''Peace, Minerva. You win. If I may, I would prefer to stay in my quaters instead of the Hospital Wing.'' Merlin knew he wasn't going to get trapped in the Hospital Wing like he had in May.

Minerva gave the Matron a questioning look and Poppy turned her attention to her patient. ''I see no issue with that. I will put a monitoring spell on you in case your condition worsened.''

''Coward!'' Minerva yelled.

''Coward!'' Potter seconded the Headmistress.

Dumbledore looked at him with eyes full of disgusting pity. ''Severus... please...''

''Traitor!'' Bellatrix wickedly pointed her finger at him.

Lucius and Narcissa looked down at him with contempt painted on their faces. ''We have trusted you... and to think we have made you our son's godfather!''

He heard a cruel, mocking laughter. ''Please, no,'' he shook his head. ''No, Lily, please...''

A smirk appeared on Lily's face. The one that she had worn when James had bullied him on that fateful day. ''You think you are redeemable, Sev?''

Severus was crouching on the floor, his clenched fists touching the ground. ''No, Lily...'' he choked on his own sob. ''I don't-I...''

''Coward!'' Minerva repeated.

''Your dirty, stained soul...'' Lily looked at him hatefully and her eyes, her beautiul green eyes were so terribly devoid of life.

''Coward!'' Potter spat at him.

''Snivellus...'' James Potter sing-songed with a sadistical pleasure.

''Look at me, Severus! Look what have you done!'' Lily urged.

''Traitor!'' Sybill said with a trembling voice and pointed at him with her equally trembling finger.

''Mudblood!'' Amycus Carrow sneered.

Severus looked around, but there was no way out. Faces were rotating like the spinning room in the Ministry. Severus with a great fright realised he couldn't quell the panic and terror arising in him. He panted in an attempt to catch a breath. Even closing his eyes was of no use.

''Snivellus!'' Sirius Black mocked.

''Do you have any idea what have you done?!'' Jocasta O'Cathail accused.

''Severus...'' there was a snake-like hiss in the way his name was spoken. The Potions Master turned around to meet a pair of inhumanly red eyes. In the corner of his vision he spotted a werewolf and he tried to step back while crouching. Instead he fell on his butt. A rat bared its teeth at him. ''Nagini... kill!'' the Dark Lord ordered and the snake opened her jaw wide, jumping at the spy.

Severus woke up gasping heavily. His nightgown has unpleasantly stuck to his sweaty body. Severus quickly reached for his wand on the night stand and wordlessly Accio'ed a bucket from the bathroom. As soon as his hand grasped the bucket, Severus threw up, his body shaking while he did so. When he felt his stomach had nothing more to get rid of, he put the bucket aside near his bed. He grabbed the first sheet of paper that got into his hands, transfigured it into a handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

''Ugh,'' Severus lay back and closed his eyes, concentrating on controlling his breath. He couldn't recall the last time he had got sick, aside from recovering from Nagini's bite. He simply couldn't have afforded getting sick – as soon as he had sensed incoming disease he had taken appropriate potions. He had forgotten how unpleasant sickness was. He regulated his breath and felt his heartbeat slow down. Soon he fell asleep once more.

A cold hand touched his chest right over his heart. Then it started sliding up and Severus moaned in a protest. The hand ignored the objection and slowly wandered up to his throat, where it stopped. Severus felt its grip steadily growing tighter on his throat and he realised he couldn't draw a breath anymore. Not only that – he couldn't move at all and fight back. The initial panic quickly passed and Severus relaxed, welcoming the thought of his life finally coming to an end. Then the eerily cold hand out of sudden retreated and Severus coughed, inhaling painfully.

''Severus, easy, easy now,'' Poppy put a wet cloath to his feverish forehead.

''Ngah, Pop..agh...'' Severus tried to call her, but his uncoordinated breathing got in the way.

'Shh...'' a hand, a warm hand rubbed his shoulder. ''Don't say anything,'' Minerva whispered soothingly.

Poppy put a bottle to his lips. ''Drink it, it should make you feel better.''

Severus swallowed between coughing fits. His lungs felt like on fire.

''I think we should move you to the Hospital Wing,'' Poppy said carefully.

Severus shook his head. ''No, please. Not the Hos-'' he coughed again and curled like an embryo, uncaring how pathetic he was. He shakily inhaled through his teeth as his entire body shook.

''I'll stay with Severus,'' Minerva offered. ''When the potion should start working?''

''Ideally within half an hour... Are you sure about it, Minerva?''

''Yes,'' the Headmistress nodded. ''I'll call you if he doesn't get better by that time.''

Poppy didn't seem to be too sold on the idea. ''Very well. Here's the potion he needs to be given in case of another attack,'' she took out a bottle with a blue liquid. ''And here's the potion he needs to drink if his temperature doesn't drop within next ten minutes,'' she took out a bottle with an orange potion. ''If anything draws your attention, call me immediately.''

''Naturally,'' Minerva smiled ruefully at the Matron and patted gently Severus' shoulder. ''You are going to be alright, don't worry.''

''If anything-'' Poppy reminded right before leaving Potions Master's quaters.

''Of course, Poppy,'' Minerva assured.

''Don't bother. The thing is, I don't feel like being alive anymore,'' Severus grumbled weakly.

Minerva exhaled, her breath heavy with burden. ''Don't say that,'' she asked with voice tainted with concern. ''You have fought more difficult battles than the one you're fighting right now. You will be alright,'' she said firmly. Severus made a sound of murmur in response, his back still facing his superior. ''And what good would it bring you not being alive anymore?'' she squeezed lightly his shoulder.

''I'm just tired... I have no purpose... have got no...'' Severus wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

''No purpose? What are you even talking about?'' Minerva said outraged. ''Isn't teaching new generations of wizards enough of purpose to you?''

''You know I hate it, Minerva,'' Severus protested.

Minerva rubbed her forehead. Merlin give her strength. ''Stop moping as if you haven't just saved Harry's life, for God's sake. And if that still isn't enough for you, then screw purpose!'' Minerva smirked noticing she managed to draw his attention. ''Isn't life an important purpose on its own?'' Severus shrugged in reply. ''What is it with you?''

''Mens sana in corpore sano,'' Severus said flatly.

''Should I take it then your spirit is unwell?''

''Interpret it as you please.''

''Sweet Merlin, you're such a grouch! Cursed be the day we lose you and your everlasting optimism,'' smug smile danced on Minerva's lips.

Apparently it was enough to make Severus finally turn around to face his interlocutor. ''Are you making fun of me, Minerva?'' he narrowed his eyes.

The Headmistress made a startled and slightly offended face. ''Me? You truly must be feverish.''

Severus scoffed. ''And there I was, thinking you had no sense of humour, Headmistress.''

''I can see you're feeling better already,'' she smiled softly and touched his forehead. ''Thanks Merlin, your temperature has already dropped.'' Severus swatted her hand away. ''Stop behaving like a child. You're absolutely unbearable when you're sick,'' she took off her glasses and cleaned them. ''And what's with your enmity with the Hospital Wing? Merlin! Hadn't I known better I would have thought you were related to Potter.''

''Funny you mention that,'' Severus snorted and with eyes filled with amusement said. ''James Potter and I share a common great-grandfather.''

''Oh, really?'' Minerva looked at her colleague curiously.

''It's a little known fact. I doubt James Potter himself was aware of it. You know how the saying goes, all pure-blood families are related.''

''Huh, I've never heard that Henry Potter had siblings,'' Minerva furrowed her eyebrows trying to recall such a rumour.

''Half-siblings. I should probably add something among the lines of Felix Potter was a womanizer,'' Severus grimaced, trying to sit up.

''Do you require a pain-soothing potion?'' the Headmistress helped him up. ''Better tell me the truth now or I am going to make you stay in the Hospital Wing until Christmas, so help me Lord,'' she threatened.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose before throwing hands up. ''Calm down, Minerva! You have my word I am already feeling much better. I am not going to drop dead on you.''

''Should I point out not so long ago you were nagging how you didn't want to live anymore?'' Minerva raised her eyebrows and Severus ran his hand down his face. People were so annoying when they dedicated him too much attention.

Chapter Text

''Severus!'' Minerva exclaimed with her arms crossed and a disapproval painted all over her face. ''May I ask what in Merlin's sake you are doing out of your bed?''

The wizard put the book he was holding on the desk at which he was sitting. ''I am indulging myself in reading,'' he deadpanned.

''You could do that in your bed,'' Minerva raised an eyebrow.

''I could,'' Severus affirmed. ''However, I find the activity much more enjoyable in a proper sitting position. Let us not act as if moving by mere few meters is going to kill me, shall we?''

The Headmistress scoffed. ''You act like a child! Should I call Poppy to beat some reason into your stubborn skull?''

''I am sure constant lying in bed can't be good for my wellbeing,'' Severus said with a clear lack of interest in the conversation in his voice as he glanced at the book.

''Only yesterday you looked like you were on the brink of death and now you act like nothing had happened? I have believed you to have a greater instinct for self-preservation.''

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he would eventually have to address the proverbial erumpent in the room. He looked his superior in the eye. ''I am sorry you were forced to witness my... emotional outburst, Minerva.'' The last time he had let himself be so vulnerable around other people had been his conversation with Dumbledore following Lily's death. The awareness that the witch he held in a great respect had watched his distress made him uneasy. ''It was out of place.''

''It's the least of my concerns for you, Severus, and you know it. We all have our moments of weakness, so to speak. If it's any consolation, the secret of your softer side is safe with me,'' the Headmistress added with a smirk.

Severus watched the woman and saw no mockery in her features, only honesty. ''I would appreciate it, Minerva,'' he nodded politely at her. ''Since you are here, why don't you take a seat?'' he gestured at the other chair, standing by the wall.

''It took you a moment, Severus,'' the witch remarked as she sat on the chair. ''I rarely see you in such a talkative mood.''

''How else can I gather information about the school if I am confined to the walls of my quaters?'' Severus pointed out.

''Even if you refuse to stay in bed, you shall remain here for the next few days and you are definitely not returning to teaching until the Christmas break,'' Minerva warned.

''And who is going to teach Potions?'' the wizard crossed his arms.

''Don't worry about it – Horace agreed to take your post for a week.'' Minerva watched the unimpressed look on Severus' face. ''I know you have different views on preferred methods of teaching, but Horace is perfectly capable Potions Master. He has taught numerous generations of wizards, yourself included.''

''Yes, but Horace is satisfied with sharing outdated knowledge,'' Severus reminded.

''One lesson of outdated knowledge, as you put it, is not going to hinder the progress your students are making,'' Minerva chuckled slightly. ''As for another subject that might interest you, I have talked to the healers of St. Mungo. They believe, if Potter's recovery keeps going as smoothly as it has, he will be let out for the Christmas break as well.''

''It's been only three days and the boy has been sick for a month. Aren't they too quick in making assumptions?'' Severus said flatly.

Minerva nodded slowly, sighing. ''I hope they are not. Potter's mysterious illness has been stressful for all of us. Merlin knows the boy has suffered enough in his short life.''

''Knowing his record we should expect more such surprises in the future,'' Severus deadpanned, trying to play down the lingering concern he had for the brat. Potter was notoriously awful at Potions and while he was said to excel at DADA (not that Severus shared the view), he tended to rely on two, maybe three spells. Moreover, he had missed entire month of classes and probably was not going to care enough to learn the material on his own. And yet, even if Potter failed all the N.E.W.T.s, the Auror department was most likely going to acceppt him into the training programme with open arms. How could they refuse the saviour of the wizardkind? This could only end in tragedy and once Potter was out of Hogwarts, Severus would not be able to protect him... ''We should be glad Potter is graduating in five months from now.'' The universe truly had come up with one of the most cruel ways to punish Severus.

---

Harry was overjoyed with the daily visits from his friends. However, as soon as Hermione noticed his condition had improved, she arrived with student books in tow and started walking him through the material that had been covered during Transfiguration, DADA, Potions, Charms and Herbology, deaf to Harry's, Ron's and Ginny's objections.

On the Friday before the Christmas break Harry was released from the hospital. The sight of Jocasta O'Cathail waiting for him outside his hospital room was humiliating. He didn't need assistance with travelling to Hogwarts via the Floo network, for Merlin's sake!

O'Cathail intertwined her fingers. ''Potter, it is good to see you in better health,'' she greated him.

''Um,'' Harry scratched his head. ''Thank you, ma'am.''

''I believe you will be happy to learn you are not going to classes today. I just hope that your return after the break isn't going to be much of a shock to you.''

''Don't have to worry about that. Hermione will take care of it, I'm sure,'' Harry cringed at the thought of the two weeks break he was most likely going to spend on learning thanks to his friend's courtesy.

The dissatisfaction, however, was not caught by the head of Gryffindor. ''I am glad to hear that. I might even award some points to Gryffindor if you do well on the semestral test in January,'' she approved. ''Potter!''

''Yes?'' Harry narrowed his eyes at the teacher.

''One more thing before we return to Hogwarts. Actually, two more things,'' she amended herself. ''Firstly you are going to head for the Hospital Wing – Madam Pomfrey is going to check on you. If our Matron decides there is no need for you to stay there, the Headmistress expects you in her office. The password is 'diadem'.''

To Harry's dismay O'Cathail didn't leave his side once he stepped out of the fireplace in her office. He knew the way to the Hospital Wing, it wasn't like he was going to pass out or something.

''Potter, you look much better than the last time I saw you,'' Madam Pomfrey watched the teenager closely.

''Yes, I... uh, I feel much better,'' he said awkwardly.

''We'll see about that,'' the Matron spoke a bit harshly. ''Sit down and take off your shirt,'' then she turned her face at the retired Auror. '' Thank you for bringing...'' she hesitated for a moment. ''Potter here.''

''Not a problem at all. Let me know if you spot something out of order about our troublesome student,'' O'Cathail eyed Harry from a corner of her eye.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and made with it some movements unknown to Harry. The boy bit the inside of his cheek. The silence made him feel uncomfortable. ''So what was wrong with me?'' he finally asked after few minutes.

''Haven't they told you in St. Mungo's?'' she glanced at him sceptically.

Harry shrugged. ''Well, not much. I think I've learnt more from Hermione than from the healers and nurses.''

''Don't move, Potter,'' the Matron huffed. ''And what do you know?''

''Right. Sorry. So, I was cursed by some ancient curse created by Gryffindor?''

''That's what professor Snape and professor O'Cathail say,'' Madam Pomfrey confirmed.

''But why?'' Harry wrinkled his nose. ''I haven't done anything!''

''We haven't come to a definite answer to that question. The best guess is it had something to do with your connection to Voldemort,'' the Matron visibly forced herself to speak the name. ''I think you should ask professor O'Cathail or professor Snape on the matter. I don't know much. Frankly, Potter, I have never encountered the Amens curse before. All in all, it seems that your body is slightly tired, but otherwise you are good to go. Two weeks of the Christmas break should be enough for you to get back on your feet.''

''Thanks, that's-that's great. So, how exactly I was cured?'' he tilted his head in confusion.

The Matron put her hands on her hips. ''Full of questions, aren't you, Potter?'' she said with an amused smirk. ''Unfortunately I can't answer them to a degree that would sate your curiosity.''

Harry would have preferred meeting with his friends instead of going to the Headmistress office, but he feared he was put on some kind of monitoring list. He wouldn't put it past the Matron or O'Cathail, or Snape for that matter, to start looking for him if he didn't arrive at the office in reasonable time. Additionally, judging by the empty corridors lessons were in session, so he would have to wait for his friends anyway.

He took a deep breath standing in front of the gargoyle. He didn't know he was nervous. He had been to the office countless times. Maybe it was the fact he has never been to the office since McGonagall had been officially appointed a headmistress. Maybe it was the awareness he was going to be the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

With a pang of shame Harry realised he had zoned out right when O'Cathail told him the password. Why he had to zone out on the most important information? What was it again? Wasn't it one of horcruxes? ''Locket,'' his voice wavered with hesitation. The gargoyle stood still. ''Uh...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck. ''Diadem?'' For a moment Harry had a feeling the gargoyle was making fun of him, but after a second it stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

Harry knocked on the door and walked in. ''You wanted to see me, professor?''

''Yes, please, take a seat, Potter,'' the woman gestured with her wrinkled hand towards the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

Harry briefly glanced at the portrait of the late headmaster, trying not to notice the kind-hearted eyes behind the half-moon glasses.

''Why don't you help yourself to a cookie?'' McGonagall pushed a bowl with cookies with chocolate chips towards the student and Harry didn't find the will to resist the offer. ''I take it that Madam Pomfrey decided not to keep you in the Hospital Wing? How are you feeling, Potter?''

The boy was getting fed up with the recurring question. Logically speaking, he knew people were concerned about him, but how many times he was supposed to tell them he was alright? ''I'm fine,'' he shrugged, chewing the cookie and deliberately avoiding the subject of the unnamed feeling that lingered ever since he had woken up. Knowing how his friends had freaked out, he decided to spare McGonagall the worry. Besides, the feeling was now more subdued, akin to irksome shadow looming over. Only maybe twice or thrice it had felt like a squeeze to his guts. ''Madam Pomfrey says it's OK for me to go.''

''I do not want to overwhelm you with questions, but have you decided if you want to spent the Christmas break in Hogwarts?'' McGonagall's sight was locked on the student.

''Yeah, I think I'm gonna leave for the break,'' Harry said in a manner that suggested he wasn't too attached to his decision. Frankly, he hadn't given much thought to the matter. Ginny and Ron had said he was welcome to spent the break with them in the Burrow, and that was where he was most likely going to spent it.

''Do you require help with packing your possessions? Students are leaving tomorrow,'' the Headmistress reminded.

Harry shook his head, feeling awkward that the woman paid so much attention to him. ''No, I'll, I mean, we – Ginny, Ron and Hermione – we'll get it covered.''

McGonagall nodded. ''Very well. If you change your mind, inform professor O'Cathail. And, Potter, once you get your rest, take the time to thank professor Snape,'' she added on a kinder note.

Harry inwardly cringed at the mention of the Potions Master. He'd heard all about Snape's recent health issues. Well, mostly it had been Ron's nagging that the Potions classes weren't cancelled and Hermione scolding her boyfriend for being selfish. It didn't really take a genius to put two and two together, considering the timing. Whatever Snape had done to cure Harry had probably affected his own well-being. Which he had risked to keep Harry safe... again. ''Yeah, I will, professor,'' Harry nodded.

''You missed entire month worth of lessons,'' McGonagall reminded, for a moment forgetful of the fact she wasn't the head of the Gryffindor anymore. ''And it's not just any year, Potter. It's your seventh year! Maybe you should consider taking extra classes once you recover? You could cover with me the Transfiguration material you missed.''

Harry grimaced as if he had picked a lemon jellybean. For a person who claimed she didn't want to fatigue Harry, the Headmistress tackled awfully lot of subjects Harry didn't feel like discussing. He had taken five N.E.W.T.-level classes. Surely McGonagall did not think would be taking extra classes in all five of them! ''That's... uhm, kind offer, professor, but that won't be necessary. Hermione won't give me a rest until I revise all the classes, anyway,'' he chuckled awkwardly.

''Ms. Granger's dedication and loyalty is most commendable, but she's not a teacher. Poor girl is already pushing herself to her limits with all the classes she'd taken,'' McGonagall pitied her student as if she hadn't taken a part in the problem that was Hermione overworking herself.

Harry sighed. ''Yeah, I know, but she's already set her mind and she won't be persuaded otherwise, I'm afraid.''

Harry was excused from the Headmistress' office with a cookie in a hand. While McGonagall had offered him cookies before she became a headmistress, it was still quite unusual for her. Harry had a feeling the affection to candies was somehow connected to the headmaster's post. Or maybe that was how she showed her concern. All the same, Harry wasn't complaining. He turned the cookie in his hand, watching it from both sides and, not too elegantly, shoved it into his mouth, enjoying the small pleasure it brought.

He wasn't exactly sure why he had taken a walk towards the dungeons. It was almost like his legs grew a conscience on their own while his mind drifted off. Perhaps his subconscience had been persuaded by McGonagall's request to thank Snape. But she hadn't hurried Harry to do so. On the other hand, if Harry talked to Snape after the break, the dour git would most likely make a comment on Harry taking his time. Harry stopped in his tracks, hesitant. He could still turn around to go the the Gryffindor Tower and wait for his friends to finish their classes and no one would ever know. But postponing talking to Snape would be rude, even though he was sure Snape was going to say some nasty things about Harry's carelessness, ignoring the fact Harry hadn't done anything to get himself cursed. And Slughorn was somewhere around, taking Snape's classes for a week. The slimy retired Potions Master was a person Harry desired to see even less than the current one. But the corridors were still empty, which meant Slughorn most likely was teaching in the Potions classroom right now.

The boy hesitantly knocked on the Potions Master's office door as if longer contact with the wood would burn his skin. It was ridiculous, he was aware of it. Whatever Harry was going to say, whever he was going to hear couldn't be more embarrassing than handing Snape's memories back to their rightful owner.

''Come in,'' commanded the voice Harry had heard in his strange dream in his sickness.

Harry insecurily pushed the door knob, trying to sneak in without making much noise. Unfortunately, the door creaked showing him no mercy. The boy scrunched his nose at the high-pitched sound. ''Um, ah, good afternoon, professor,'' he addressed a man who was organising potions and ingredients on the shelves.

Snape glanced at him with an unamused expression. ''Potter, I see the St. Mungo's healers became fed up with your antics. Is there something you might require from me?''

Harry swallowed. There was a time he would have talked back, but the knowledge of Snape's dedication chased that urge away. Well, not entirely, as part of Harry still longed for an argument with the teacher.

''No, sir. I just, uh, wanted to thank you... for saving my life. Again,'' Harry added in defeat.

''That's something new for you, Potter – acknowledging others' contribution, isn't it?'' Snape made a clicking sound on the last word and Harry automatically clenched his fists. He had already acknowledged Snape's work by defending him in front of the Wizengamot, hadn't he? ''However, I must admit you are making a progress on the matter,'' the teacher went on. ''Now tell me, Potter, how are you faring?'' Snape did not even make an attempt at hiding the fact he was eyeing the student from his toes to his head, which was made easier by the fact the man was standing on a ladder.

Of course the question had returned once more. ''I'm fine, I guess,'' Harry shrugged non-commitally.

''You guess?'' Snape raised an eyebrow, descending the ladder.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Yeah, I'm fine, alright, sir?'' he realised he had slightly raised his voice.

''That's all you've got to say, Potter? That you are fine? After nearly succumbing to a curse forgotten by the time?'' Snape seethed and Harry was taken aback by his teacher's intonation. Usually Snape would have yelled at him, words and eyes flaming with pure anger. But now Harry found new undertones is Snape's voice and expression – yes, he was angry, but also kind of worried... like... truly concerned? Harry was most likely reading too much into it.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''What am I supposed to say, sir? I feel much better and I came to thank you for that. What else there is to say?'' A question, a dangerous question about Snape's own well-being started to form at the tip of Harry's tongue.

Snape crossed his arms and observed his student. ''You wish to thank me, Potter? Very well – in the backroom you will find cauldrons that are in a dire need of cleaning.''

''But, sir, I'm excused from classes today!'' Harry argued.

A smirk danced at the edges of Snape's lips. ''I am well aware, Potter. This is not a class in session, nor a detention. You are free to go.''

Harry gritted his teeth. Snape was having fun at his expense. He wanted to leave right away, but it was probably some kind of test. And if Harry refused to clean up the cauldrons, Snape was going to find a way to make him after the break. Maybe even Snape was going to convince McGonagall he would be properly thanked only when Harry spent every Friday in detention until the end of the school year. After all Snape could be devilishly persuasive, having fooled Voldemort for years. Harry could start a fight, but it was a battle he couldn't hope to win. ''Alright, I'll do it, sir,'' he said with a resignation clear in his voice.

For a fraction of second Snape seemed to be startled by the reply he had received. ''Take the desk,'' he waved his hand at the desk on the right side of the office. Then he took his wand and wordlessly Accio'ed the cauldrons. The door of the backroom opened and to Harry's surprise only half of cauldrons stashed in the room landed on his desk. ''Did you think, Potter, I would task you with cleaning ten cauldrons so soon after your discharge from St. Mungo's? The Headmistress would never allow that.''

Harry grimaced at the git's amusement and turned around to focus on the heap in front of him. He grabbed a wire sponge and started scrubbing the nearest cauldron. He frowned in digust when he noticed the insides of the cauldron were covered by mold. Apparently due to Snape's absence no one had spared a thought to the dirty cauldrons. Halfway through the first cauldron, Harry glanced at the Potions Master, who had gone back to meticulously arranging the ingredients on the shelves. The teenager turned back to his desk, huffing. It wasn't fair – it wasn't Harry fault he had become cursed and while Snape had risked his own well-being for the sake of Harry's, he had no right to take it out on Harry.

Every gesture Harry made in an attempt to make it clear he no longer held any grudges against the man eventually rebound on him. Snape's behaviour made no sense to the Gryffindor – the man kept helping Harry only to keep ridiculing him seconds later. Snape had given him the salve for 'Umbrigde-itis' when no one had paid attention to the scars on Harry's hand in two years. He had even offered him extra Potions classes, even though he was just as aware as Harry how poorly their last private lessons had gone. Hermione would probably have been the happiest person on Earth if a teacher offered her extra classes. She would have taken the offer without even batting an eye.

And now she was going to become Harry's own private teacher for the time of the Christmas break. While she was the most talented witch of her time, that much Harry was sure of, it would be naive to think she would be able to teach Harry an entire month worth of material in five subjects in only two weeks. Hermione might even believe Harry was going to catch up with his classmates and maybe if he were Hermione, he would, but Harry was no Hermione. He wasn't a fast learner nor a diligent student.

Harry eyed the former spy once more. Even McGonagall had offered her assistance in catching up with the material. The Headmistress was right about Hermione taking too many duties. Ron was going to think Harry had lost his mind... but maybe it was worth giving a shot? It couldn't possibly go much worse than Occlumency lessons had, after all.

''Professor?'' Harry asked when he reached his third cauldron.

The teacher slowly turned around with an impatient expression. ''What is it now, Potter?''

The unwelcoming look on Snape's face planted a seed of doubt in Harry's mind. Maybe Snape had been willing to offer classes in September, but it was already mid December and Snape was quite obviously aggrieved by the affair with the curse. ''Uh, I was, but um... nevermind,'' he cringed.

''You were what, Potter?'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Just get it out, I am dying to hear what you have to say,'' he said flatly.

Harry fidgeted his fingers. He should have kept his mouth shut. ''I was wondering if, uhm, maybe you could, well, you know, these extra classes? I mean, if I could take them? Uh, sir?''

''Your eloquence is truly stunning, Potter,'' Snape spared his student an unamused glance and Harry found himself wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. ''How curious it only took you nearly dying to consider that perhaps you do require an aid in Potions. I will be honest with you, Potter – taking into account your record I should be doing everything in my power to prevent you from becoming an Auror.''

You needn't have been that honest, Harry thought and clenched his fists, throwing his teacher a challenging look.

''You are reckless and tend to run into danger unprepared. I truly think you would be better off looking for some less life-threatening job. Do not interrupt me, Potter, I have not finished yet,'' Snape added when Harry opened his mouth to protest. ''However, I know you well enough to know nothing I say or do is going to stop you from following your foolish dream. Furthermore, the Auror department is currently understaffed and most likely willing to lower their expectations even if their trainees are going to pay for that decision. In conclusion, yes, I will teach you, Potter.''

''Great!'' Harry said not sure if he had made a right decision.

Snape took a step towards Harry. ''To ensure extra Potions do not end like the Occlumency classes, I want you to follow some rules. Classes are going to take place every Friday 4 P.M. in the Potions classroom. I will not tolerate lack of punctuality. If I tell you to prepare an ingredient in a certain way, you will follow my instructions. If I tell you to stop brewing a potion, you will put out fire and leave your work station. If I decide further cooperation pointless, I shall discontinue classes. Am I clear?''

''Yes, sir,'' Harry nodded, growing to regret his decision even more with each Snape's word. ''Do we start now?''

The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose. ''Sweet Merlin, no! You are still not in the shape for classes, Potter. We shall start after the Christmas break. You may leave now.''

Harry glanced at the teacher and then at the cauldrons. ''But what about-?'' he pointed at the desk.

''Leave it. I can assure you there are numerous students awaiting tasks in detention. Unless you are keen on meeting professor Slughorn I would suggest leaving soon for your dormitory.''

Chapter Text

On Saturday the Gryffindors and Luna left for Hogsmeade. If not for the Levitation Charm the walk to the nearby town would have been much more troublesome with their heavy baggage. The Gryffindor quatro wondered why Luna brought none with her, but then it was Luna and she was known to be a bit... peculiar.

''So this is where we part...'' Hermione said once they reached the town.

Ginny rolled her eyes. ''Don't say it like we aren't gonna see each other during the break.''

Ron made a sour face. ''I still don't get why you can't come with us.''

''And now who is overly dramatic?'' Hermione snorted, but it was apparent she was amused by her boyfriend's remark. ''It's not that I can't, it's just that I wanna spend Christmas with my parents and grandparents. I didn't get the chance last year. But I'll come to see you on the Boxing Day, right? And you can come and visit me at my parents' flat too.''

''Yeah, you're right. I'm happy for you,'' Harry smiled and hugged Hermione as a good-bye. He shared her sentiment – spending Christmas with family (and Harry dared to consider the Weasleys something akin to a foster family) was much better way of spending this special time than hunting horcruxes. Ron couldn't possibly understand that, having spent the previous Christmas with his brother and sister-in-law. ''See you soon, alright?''

''Of course!'' Hermione nodded. Then she embraced Ron and pecked him quickly, clearly ashamed of her public display of affections. The girl cleared her throat and took the handle of her trunk. ''Oh, before I go, Ginny, make sure Harry revises his classes... I don't trust Ron to keep an eye on Harry. See you in a week!'' she said and Apparated away.

''Merry Christmas, Mione!'' Harry waved, pretending he didn't hear the part about his classes.

''Well, I guess it's our cue to leave,'' said Ginny. ''Do you want to come with us to the Burrow and from there to your home or-'' she addressed the Ravenclaw.

''Oh, no, I'm staying for the break in Hogwarts,'' Luna dismissively waved her hand, making her completely season-inaccurate yellow croci earrings dangle. ''Daddy is still rebuilding our house.''

Harry eyed Luna. Yes, that explained the lack of luggage. ''I'm sorry to hear that.''

''Well, I miss my room, but on the bright side it's our last year and last chance to spend the break in Hogwarts,'' Luna shrugged, but behind her eyes Harry caught a glimpse of soft sadness.

Ginny hugged Luna. ''Take care, Luna. We'll send you a Christmas card!''

''And don't forget to tell us if Peeves pranks Snape!'' Ron added.

Then the trio grabbed their trunks, waved Luna good-bye and Apparated to the Burrow.

''There you are, my dears!'' Mrs. Weasley waved at them and once they were close enough, she embraced them so tightly Harry for a moment thought she was going to choke him.

Mr. Weasley glanced at them from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. ''I hope the journey went smoothly?''

''Daaad,'' both Ron and Ginny sighed.

''We just Apparated, you know, right?'' Ron reminded.

''I thought Hermione would come with you,'' Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at the Gryffindors.

''Well, she decided she needs to go home to spend Christmas with her parents,'' Ron crossed his arms.

''Such a sweet girl! Unlike some people,'' Mrs. Weasley huffed and Harry curiously glanced at the two Weasleys.

''We'll explain later,'' Ginny whispered.

''Anyway, put your baggage on the first floor,'' Mrs. Weasley gestured towards the staircase. ''Are you hungry? You've arrived just in time for lunch.''

''I could eat,'' Ron said enthusiastically.

With a flick of their wand the trio ordered their trunks to follow them upstairs. Ginny directed her luggage towards her room, while Harry entered Ron's one.

''What is it with your mum?'' Harry asked placing down his trunk.

''Bill decided to spend Christmas in France with Fleur and her parents and mum is pissed off,'' Ron explained.

''Yeah, and Charlie stays in Romania,'' Ginny cut in, sneaking into Ron's room.

''Hey, no one invited you in here!'' Ron yelled, but it seem that he said that as a matter of principle rather than annoyance.

Harry could see why Fleur and Bill wanted to spend the time with her parents, although he imagined Mr. And Mrs. Delacour would be less offended than Mrs. Weasley currently was, if they decided to stay in the Burrow. They seemed a rather pleasant and less hot-headed couple. However, as far as he recalled Charlie Weasley had spent the majority of Christmas in Romania. Out of all Weasley siblings, Harry hardly knew Charlie at all. ''Charlie doesn't like coming for Christmas, does he?''

Ron shrugged non-commitally. ''Well, mate, let's just say he likes to keep his distance.''

''Are you coming for lunch or not?'' Mrs. Weasley called.

''I can't say I don't see his reasons – mum can be quite a lot to take in, especially around Christmas,'' Ginny pointed out.

Even though it was still six days until Christmas Mrs. Weasley made the teenagers do Christmas chores. Harry chuckled with nostalgia when George petrified a gnome during de-gnoming the garden, dressed it in a funny little dress and hung on the Christmas tree like he had years ago. In the evening Harry lay in a bed in Ron's room, overcome with exhaustion. This time, however, it was a good kind of exhaustion not caused by any illness.

''Blimey, mate, I think we forgot about your classes!'' Ron exclaimed overdramatically, letting himself joke when Hermione wasn't around.

''Oh my, I think you are right!'' Harry joined in jesting. ''Do you think Hermione is going to rip my head off?''

Ron made a serious face. ''Yes, mate. I'm afraid your days are numbered. It was nice knowing you, Harry.''

''Dammit,'' Harry hissed. ''Maybe you could hide me from her?''

''Hiding you from my girlfriend? Slim chance, mate,'' Ron raised his eyebrows to make a point. ''And even if she doesn't get you, Snape will. Seriously, mate, what were you thinking?''

Harry huffed and helpless stretched out his arms. ''I've told you already. McGonagall might be right about me needing some help with classes. I've never been great at Potions. Besides, Ginny is alright with that.''

Ron sat up on his bed. ''But what we will do without you in our team?''

Harry on the other hand didn't bother sitting up and only turned his face towards his friend. ''You were doing rather well without me those past few months. I just...'' he sighed. ''I don't think there's a point in me joining the team in January when I missed most of September, November and all of December training sessions.''

''But you are our Seeker, Harry!'' Ron protested.

''You've found someone to cover for me, right?''

''And so what? Harry, you are the best!''

Harry didn't find the compliment as satisfactory as he probably should have. Despite his passion for Quidditch Harry had never considered becoming a professional Quidditch player. It simply wasn't the life he wanted.

On Monday the Gryffindors went to the Diagon Alley to do some Christmas shopping, which were mostly gifts. Many shop fronts featured levitating candles and snowing spell. Some other shop owners had set their minds on perpetually chiming bells.

Harry was in the dark, not having much experience with buying gifts. Especially the wixen ones. He remembered rather well the piles of presents his cousin would receive, so he had some idea what muggles got each other for Christmas. He knew his friends well enough to know what they were going to enjoy, but there were more people to gift... like the young Teddy. What the hell wizards gifted to toddlers? Harry recalled the letter from his mum and the picture of him flying on a broom and decided it would be a disastrous idea to let a nine-months-old kid on a broom. An idea Harry's own godfather apparently had entertained a lot. On the other hand, Sirius hadn't been exactly an example of a responsible person. Suddenly Harry felt a pang of sadness – Sirius didn't even have a grave Harry could visit, unlike Harry's parents, whose graves Harry had visited a year earlier. Sirius had just stumbled back never to be seen again. How Harry wished he could spend his Christmas with his godfather...

Then Harry had a spark of an idea. ''Guys, I think I need to go to the Gringotts,'' he said, taking Ginny and Ron aside.

''What for? Do you need more money?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows, trying to do his Maths.

''You will see,'' Harry grinned mischievously.

Ten minutes later Harry returned with a sack filled with British pounds. ''Come with me,'' he waved at his girlfriend and his friend.

The trio walked into the Leaky Cauldron and exited it from the other side. The muggle side.

''What exactly are we doin' here, Harry?'' Ron asked.

''I wanted to show you the muggle world around Christmas. Come on, have you ever truly walked around muggle London?'' he asked when he noticed Ron wasn't too sold on the idea.

Ron bit inside of his cheek. ''Have you, mate?''

Harry scratched the back fo his neck. ''Well, not really, but there's a time for first everythings, right? We've got muggle clothes on, we'll blend in.''

Ginny on the other hand appeared to be mesmerised by the Christmas lights and decorations. ''And muggles achieve it all without any magic?''

''I think the, how was it called, the eclecticity? is their magic,'' Ron looked at the lights.

''Electricity,'' Harry chuckled.

The following day was a big day for Harry, with him paying a visit to his godson. He wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect from Andromeda Tonks. After all Harry was the person indirectly responsible for death of her loved ones. Tonks had died fighting for Harry... only to leave her then month-old son behind. While Harry didn't remember his own parents, he felt sorry Teddy had only spent a month with his parents, while Harry had had over a year with his own.

The boy Apparated in front of the Tonks house. The woman must have set some alarming charms as she walked outside wielding a wand before Harry even got a chance to ring a bell.

''Oh, Harry!'' the woman looked rather embarrassed by her readiness to strike the unknown comer. ''Please, come in!'' she greeted him cordially.

''Uh, so how is Teddy?'' Harry was equally embarrassed by their conversation. ''I'm sorry for not coming sooner, but Hogwarts can be quite a lot,'' he excused himself as he was taking off his shoes in the hall.

''Teddy is growing so fast! Gosh, soon he'll start running around the house like some madman! Can't say I missed this stage of child's development,'' the brown-haired woman added with a tired sigh of someone who had been through the struggle before. ''It's your seventh year?''

Harry followed his host to the living room. ''Yes, I decided to retake my seventh year. Hermione convinced me I had to take my N.E.W.T.s.''

''Oh, I remember my seventh year well, alright,'' the woman chuckled at some distant memory. ''I can't blame you for not visiting. No one who has taken N.E.W.T.s would. Could you wait here for a moment? I'll fetch the little disastermaker,'' Andromeda patted a couch, inviting Harry to sit down. After a moment she returned holding a green-haired boy. ''Ten minutes ago it was still purple. Trust me, Harry, metamorphomagi can be quite annoying,'' she said handing the child to the teenager.

''Uff,'' Harry groaned. He had no idea babies weighted that much! ''Hi, Teddy!'' he waved at the toddler, placing him in his lap. ''You probably don't remember me – I'm your godfather Harry,'' Teddy's bright smile was infectious. Harry smiled only wider when the child clapped its hands and cooed.

Harry was clueless what to do next, having no prior experience with babies. Fearful not to hurt the boy, he gently patted his head. It seemed that Teddy enjoyed it as he started boucing on Harry's lap.

''He's a volcano of energy. Sometimes I wish he were less energetic,'' Andromeda smiled, brushing her grandson's hair. ''How is your seventh year going? I've heard you wanted to become an Auror?''

Harry looked away. He didn't want to upset Andromeda by evoking her memories of Tonks becoming an Auror. ''Yeah, I think I could do it.''

''Rather ambitious goal. It's awfully difficult job track. Not only you have to achieve great N.E.W.T.s grades, you also need to pass the entrance exam. Nymphadora had been so stressed over hers!'' Andromeda sighed wistfully.

Harry needed a second to connect 'Nymphadora' with 'Tonks'. ''I know. But I'm trying my best,'' he assured. ''Hermione wouldn't let me slack off. Actually, my friend Neville is taking the entrance exam next month.''

''Hermione is your girlfriend?'' the woman asked confusedly and Harry realised she probably didn't know that much about him, having met him only few times.

''No,'' Harry shook his head in an awkward amusement. ''Ginny's my girlfriend and Ginny's brother Ron is Hermione's boyfriend,'' he explained.

''Ah,'' Andromeda nodded. ''And Neville is?''

''Our friend,'' Harry held Teddy, making sure the toddler didn't fall down with all the wriggling.

''Let me,'' the woman took the toddler and put him on her lap.

''Oh, I've got something for Teddy,'' Harry turned around and reached to his bag. Then he presented to the wriggling toddler a teddy bear. ''Teddy bear for Teddy,'' Harry gently shook the plushie to make its limbs move. His gaze landed on boy's grandmother. ''I'm sorry if it's not suitable...'' he said insecurily. ''I was raised amongst muggles and I don't really know what wixen children receive for Christmas...''

Andromeda covered her mouth, but then quickly retreated her hand. ''No, it's-it's fine. It's just been a long time since I've seen a muggle toy. As you probably know my husband was a muggle-born, so he got Nymphadora a muggle toy maybe twice or thrice. Ted wasn't too attached to his muggle roots, but when the registration thing appeared he became more nostalgic for his muggle past. He could be quite... wilful. I'm sure he would appreciate our grandson receiving a piece of Ted's muggle childhood.''

''Bah!'' the toddler yelled. It looked that Teddy was perfectly happy with his gift as he reached out his grabby hands towards the fluffy toy. As soon as he had his reign over the teddy bear, now black-haired Teddy Lupin put toy's ear into his mouth, glossing it with his saliva.

Going to Hermione's parents' flat was a nice respite from the Christmas at the Burrow. While Harry loved staying with the Weasley clan, with each cracker pulled Fred's absence was painfully apparent and George's jokes lacked their supplement on Fred's end. The amosphere was much more uneasy than the previous Christmas Harry had spent with the Weasleys. Others had felt it as well and tried to hide it in different ways – in the moments of awkward silence Ron would remind old jokes he had told years ago, now unbecoming to a nearly nineteen-year-old, Percy would start talking about his new job in the Department of Transportation, Ginny would start pretending to worry about the semester tests, while George bragged how well his business was doing and mockingly offered a job of cashier to Ron and Harry. The play of pretending they were doing fine must have influenced Mrs. Weasley, who was even more stressed about the dinner than usually around Christmas. Meanwhile Mr. Weasley opted for pretending he wasn't there. And deep inside Harry had to admit it was a bit strange to have Percy around once more.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end and Hermione soon enough started interrogating Harry about his progress, only to find out he had made none.

''Harry, you need to focus!'' she demanded and tapped her index finger against the picture in the Herbology book placed on a coffee table. ''How do you tell apart a Floo flower from a common muggle viola?''

''Uh, you make Floo powder with Floo flowers and not with viola?'' Harry fixed his glasses to hide his confused expression.

Hermione sighed tiredly. ''You won't be able to check if you can make Floo powder with a flower during your Herbology N.E.W.T., even if you knew the Floo powder recipe, Harry,'' she said so strickly a picture of Hermione becoming a teacher flashed before Harry's eyes. She would make an absolutely terrifying teacher.

Ron stopped observing curiously the Christmas tree standing in the living room and turned his attention to his girlfriend. ''Harry's answer wasn't wrong, you know.''

Hermione threateningly raised her eyebrows. ''Oh, you're so smart, Ronald? Then pray tell me what puts apart Floo flower from viola?''

''I-um, well... uh... Ah, it's all pointless!'' Ron waved his hand as Ginny giggled at her brother's poor attempt at hiding the fact he was just as clueless as Harry. ''If Neville is allowed to take the entrance exam with an 'A' in Potions, it means we don't have to achive best grades.''

''Achieving N.E.W.T.s is one thing. We don't know if Neville will pass the entrance exam. Of course I wish the best for him-'' Hermione pointed out. ''No, Crookshanks, leave the Christmas tree alone!'' she yelled when the red cat slapped a bauble.

The cat seemed to be offended by the request. It waved with its fluffy tail and walked towards the group of teenagers. Then it hopped on the coffee table and stared down at the picture of a Floo flower.

''Clever, Crookshanks,'' Hermione petted the cat. ''You would tell apart viola from Floo flower, wouldn't you?''

''He probably would, but he also recognised an animagus, so it wouldn't be that much of a deal for him,'' Ginny reminded jokingly.

Ron eyed the living room as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of some concealed thing. ''There's something I don't quite get – how come Harry's muggles had a fireplace, while your-''

''What? Are you gonna call my parents 'my muggles'?'' Hermione asked outraged. ''That sounds awfully prejudiced, don't you think? My parents never refer to you or your family as 'my wizards'!''

''What? No!'' Ron protested loudly. ''I only wanted to ask why your parents don't have a fireplace. If they had, you could add the fireplace to the Floo network,'' Ron reasoned.

Hermione waved her arm, gesturing broadly around the living room. ''It's a flat, Ronald! Harry's aunt and uncle lived in a single house. Muggles don't keep fireplaces in blocks. Flat are heated with radiators. Actually most houses nowadays are, fireplaces are there mostly to look fancy.''

''Was it that hard to simply answer?'' Ron huffed.

Harry excused himself from the living room as the squabble went on and Ginny joined him.

Harry anxiously looked over his shoulder at his two arguing friends. ''I'm worried about them,'' he confessed and Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. ''Lately they've been arguing quite a lot, don't you think?''

Ginny shook her head in amusement. ''You don't get it? My thick-headed brother and Hermione enjoy it.''

Harry wrinkled his nose. The mere idea of enjoying a squabble with your partner seemed utterly absurd to him. While Ron and Hermione argued on daily basis, after each one of few squabbles he and Ginny had had, Harry had a feeling his world was about to collapse. However, Harry didn't have much time to ponder on the matter as his right hand was suddenly pulled and the rest of his body followed. In a second his cheek was met with Ginny's lips.

''What for was that?'' he felt rather ridiculous for the warmth climbing up his face.

Ginny smirked smugly and pointed up. ''The mistletoe, silly.''

Harry looked up, feeling even more ridiculous. Then he looked down again at his girlfriend and leant forward for a more proper kiss this time.

Chapter Text

The return to Hogwarts felt like it happened much sooner than after two weeks of the break. Harry hardly was given the time to put his trunk back into the dormitory, when he heard paintings in the Gryffindor common room calling him.

Harry groaned, much to Ron's amusement (for which Ron was slapped with a pillow), and headed for the common room. The paintings truly needn't have yelled. Probably every Gryffindor student was already aware they wanted something from Harry.

''Oh, there you are, Potter,'' the portrait of a wizard wearing feathered purple tudor hat addressed Harry. ''The Fat Lady asked us to tell you professor O'Cathail wanted you to report to the Matron.''

Of course. Not a day could pass without someone treating him with kid gloves. With resignation Harry let his feet carry him to the Hospital Wing.

''Did you get a good rest, Potter? How are you feeling today?'' Madam Pomfrey greeted him.

Harry nodded. ''Yeah, I'm fine,'' he said realising the unusual feeling was gone. He hadn't even noticed the moment it had disappeared.

''Let's check that, shall we?'' Madam Pomfrey smirked at the boy. ''You know what to do, Potter,'' she waved her hand, urging Harry to sit down on an examination bed. When he was sitting, she started an incantation. ''Congratulations, Potter. It would appear you are perfectly healthy. Should you feel nauseous or otherwise unwell, do not wait in hopes of the symptoms vanishing. Am I clear?'' she scoldingly raised her eyebrow.

Harry ducked his head from Matron's glare. ''Yes, ma'am,'' he mumbled.

Another thing that made the return rather unpleasant was teachers' willingness to dive head-first into the routine of school life with stacks of assignments, uncaring that the majority of students wasn't quite ready to do it yet. For Harry the clash with said routine was rather harsh, but he refused to admit it would be even worse if not for Hermione efforts.

It surely did not help that first day of classes, that is Monday, meant Potions. Even though his extra Potions were supposed to take place on Fridays, Harry had a bad feeling about upcoming classes with Snape.

Snape stood next to the blackboard with his hands clasped behind his back. ''Silence!'' the murmur of students' voices died out as soon as Snape spoke. ''Open your books on page 328,'' the teacher said not wasting any time on pleasantries. ''Potter,'' Harry stopped himself from huffing upon hearing his last name. ''Tell me, what ingredients are required to brew Veritaserum?''

''Uh, um-,'' Harry put all his effort into poking his brain. He remembered revising the material with Hermione.

''Potter, stand up when answering. Have you forgotten your manners in the last one-and-half month?'' Snape asked drily.

Harry slowly raised himself to a standing position, trying not to feel the curious glances his fellow students were sending him. He could hear Brownleek gossiping with some other Slytherin, no doubt making fun out of him. He took a deep breath. ''The ingredients for Veritaserum are, uhm-''

Hermione opened up her mouth, but Snape was quicker to speak. ''Granger, do not even think about giving Potter the answer,'' he warned and Hermione's cheeks turned crimson.

Harry glanced briefly at Ron and saw a support in his friend in the form of forehead furrowed in anger at the injustice. ''Well?'' Snape crossed his arms.

''The ingredients consist of sage, um... poppy head, Adder's fork, bel-'' Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow at the last word and dread went down Harry's spine. ''I-I meant, uh, Boomslang skin and um... and...'' Harry tried to recall which ingredients he had already listed. ''Boomslang skin,'' he muttered under his breath, counting on his fingers, ''sage, moondew...'' he hesitated. ''And moondew,'' he said aloud.

Snape nodded. ''And how long it takes to brew Veritaserum?''

''A lunar cycle,'' Harry shrugged. That one was easy-peasy.

Snape's eyebrows went slightly up, an expression which probably went unnoticed by the majority of students, but not Harry, who interpreted it as a surprise. The belief the man had in Harry was truly heart-warming, to say the least. Maybe Snape lost some kind of bet that Harry would return absolutely ignorant. ''You may sit, Potter,'' Snape simply said.

''Well done, Harry!'' Hermione whispered.

''Yeah, you showed the git,'' Ron added quietly, patting Harry's back, only to duck his head down when he was met with Snape's angry glare.

Then Snape went writing down the recipe for the Veritaserum antidote. ''I suggest you memorise both the recipe for Veritaserum and the antidote as they both may appear in the semestral test,'' the Potions Master turned around to face his students. ''Moreover, I want you to forget what professor Slughorn told you about preparing the Mandrake Restorative Draught. The recipe provided in the book by Libatius Borage is somewhat dated. I expect you to work efficiently today, so that I will be able to show you the most up-to-date recipe.''

Unfortunately, it quickly turned out Snape wasn't the only teacher to ask Harry questions upon his return from the prolonged absence. To be precise, it only took Harry the length of two lessons break that followed Potions to find that out.

McGonagall walked to Harry's desk and put a chess piece in front of Harry. ''Potter, I would like you to transform it into a rook, a bird. I hope you know the incantation?''

Harry looked warily at the king on his desk. ''Yes, professor,'' he said in defeat. The Transfiguration didn't go as quite as planned as on the first try the king turned into a knight and on the second try instead of turning into a rook, the chess piece turned into a blackbird. Well, at least the bird was black, similarly to rooks.

The bird chirped, spread its wings and took off.

''You could do better, Potter. Revise this lesson,'' the Headmistress said. ''Purflor, may I ask why are you laughing?'' she turned her keen eyes at the other Gryffindor.

''No-nothing, professor,'' Eusebius Purflor went pale.

With a swift motion McGonagall transformed the blackbird back into a king and caught the falling chess piece. This time she placed it in front of Purflor, making the chess piece click against the wooden desk louder than necessary. ''Purflor, you will present us how well you have memorised the King to Rook spell.''

Eusebius' attempts were no better than Harry's, if not worse, with chess piece being turned into a crooked rook, a chess piece, instead of a bird.

Ron was about to laugh at his fellow Gryffindor's misery, but Hermione covered his mouth. ''Do you want to be next, Ron?'' she whispered angrily.

Ginny smirked knowingly. ''I'd like to see that.''

Luckily, the majority of classes during the week wasn't as eventful with Flickwick and Sprout not being so eager to check on Harry's progress. Harry wasn't too surprised to find out O'Cathail in one team with Snape and McGonagall in the terms of asking the boy about the meterial he had missed due to his sickness. However, as far as subjects went DADA was Harry's favourite and this time he managed not to make fool of himself in front of entire class, much to the head of Gryffindor's content.

Then the dreaded Friday arrived with extra Potions. Having wished Ginny and Ron good luck in their Quidditch training session, Harry hurried to get to the Potions classroom. He ran through the door panting.

''Ah, Potter, I thought you were going to be late,'' Snape stood expectantly in the middle of the classroom, tapping his fingers against his forearm with his arms crossed. ''Take out your cauldron and your book,'' he ordered coldly.

Gasping and swallowing loudly, Harry put, or rather threw, his bag on the desk uncaring of the noise it made and grabbed the cauldron and the book.

''Today I would like you to prepare the Draught of Peace. You may begin immediately,'' Snape returned to his place behind the teacher's desk and observed the student.

Harry opened up his book and checked the table of contents. To his surprise the potion wasn't listed in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, even though Harry was sure he had brewed the potion. The name surely sounded familiar. Then the looked up the index at the end of the book, again to no avail.

Irritation crept in as Harry glared at the git. Very fucking funny. He should have expected Snape to laugh at his expense. Harry scavenged his brain for the recipe. It had to be somewhere in there! If only he was granted an access to the Pensieve... Or if he still had on him Snape's copy of the book. Maybe it was payback for having used Half-Blood Prince' book?

While the futile search for recipe took Harry about a quarter of an hour, another twenty minutes, if not more, Harry wasted on recalling the recipe. So much for beginning immediately.

Harry took powdered moonstone and quickly poured it into the cauldron, not wanting to waste any more time. The potion took a greenish colour. Then Harry begun to stir. As he stirred potion turned turquoise and then blueish, while the boy wondered what excatly colour it was supposed to take. When he stopped stirring the potion's shade was something between blue and violet. He added a drop of syrup of hellebore, distantly recalling something about the potion needing to take purple colour. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to make it purple as it was currently more reddish. In panic Harry started to stir clockwise. Suddenly he felt a grip on his right hand.

''What do you think you are doing, Potter?! Put out the fire! Now!'' Snape growled.

Harry angrily tugged his hand out of Snape's and grabbed his wand to put out the fire under his cauldron. Just as he was waving his wand, the contents of the cauldron exploded. Harry's first instinct was to cover his face with his left hand.

Harry hissed as he felt his left hand burn. He looked down at his hand covered in hot, maroon ooze.

''Show me your hand, Potter,'' Snape hissed and with a wild expression look down at the hand that was getting covered in blisters. The Potions Master let go of Harry's hand, turned around towards the shelf and took an oinment. ''Here,'' he said, putting the jar in Harry's right hand. ''Remove the pitiful attempt at the Draught of Peace from your hand and apply the salve on the blisters,'' he spoke a bit more calmly.

Harry took a washcloth and removed the ooze, grimacing at the pain. He noticed that Snape was impatiently clenching and unclenching his own left hand. When he got to spreading the salve on the blisters, Snape went on.

''Now, tell me Potter – how come you have achieved an O.W.L. in Potions?'' the teacher sneered.

''I suppose I did well during the exam,'' Harry looked angrily at the man.

''Oh, did you? Then why you ruined a fifth-year level potion?''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''It was a fifth-year potion?'' That would explain why it wasn't featured in the N.E.W.T.-level book.

''Did I stutter, Potter?'' Snape asked slowly, yet his voice was harsh.

Harry wasn't going to take it anymore. Ah, hell, Snape was going to cancel the extra Potions and take a million points from Gryffindor, anyway. ''Have it crossed your mind that I might not remember a recipe I learnt three years ago? Sir?!'' his voice was just as venomous as Snape's.

''Perhaps I should have asked you to brew the Polyjuice Potion. You seem to be much more adept at brewing this particular potion,'' Snape hissed. ''I am sure you would be able to list the ingredients and the steps for that potion even if woken up in the middle of a night.'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and opened up his mouth to give the answer. ''It was a rhetorical question, Potter. I am in no mood to listen to you reciting the Polyjuice Potion recipe right now. What I wish you to do is collect your possessions and get out of my sight!''

Harry decided it was better not to argue on that particular matter and got to packing up his stuff, carelessly throwing them into his rucksack, his only goal being leaving the classroom as soon as possible.

''Next week try not running into the classroom in the last second,'' Snape called as Harry opened the door. Oh, so the extra Potions weren't cancelled. Frankly, Harry didn't know if he should consider it a victory or a loss.

---

Severus got up early in the morning. While he tended to stay up late in the night, he also had a habit of getting early. He opened up his wardrobe, grabbed a towel and headed for his bathroom. Having turned the cold tap on, he splashed some water into his face. As he was wiping his face with a towel, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He put away the towel and turned his observant gaze towards the mirror, his own appearance for the first time in a long time drawing his attention.

Severus raised his hand to his greasy hair and touched a single silver strand. Upon further inspection he found another five grey hairs. Well, it was only a matter of time, he mused. His natural haircolour had lasted exceptionally long, anyway. Still, it felt strange, like saying good-bye to a chapter in his life. He chuckled sourly at the thought – he had much more important life-changing moments in his life, yet greying hair felt like an end of an era. And to think mere months ago he thought he was not going to live long enough to see himself turning old.

With a groan Severus picked the towel and wiped his hands. There was no point in wasting his time on such a silly musings.

Feeling refreshed, he put on one of his trademark black robes and sat down at his desk, returning to more pressing matters – Potter's education. Severus' carefully thought out plan for the brat's extra Potions classes had evaporated the previous day with the ruined potion. Not to mention that the Christmas break wasn't a break from duties for Severus, unlike for the Gryffindor, even more so considering the fact that more Slytherins had stayed at school for the break than usual. Which could be accounted to many of their parents having been arrested for being Death Eaters or at very least having supported the Dark Lord.

Apparently Severus had underestimated the boy's lack of talent in the Potions department. An annoying thought appeared, questioning the reasons for that occurence. Lily had been an exceptional potioneer. Her smug, mischievious smile when she had come up with an idea of cutting her way short through a potion, her green eyes sparkling with joy over a shared secret when Severus had told her about his own discoveries... The boy certainly did not inherit his anti-talent from Severus either. And the brat had had the audacity to argue with Severus for daring to check how much he remembered from the earlier stages of his education. On the other hand, it could have been much worse – luckily Potter was nowhere near Neville Longbottom's ineptitude.

After the breakfast the Headmistress joined Severus on his walk back to the Dungeons, asking him to come with her to her office instead.

''I only hope it is not about Potter this time, Minerva,'' Severus deadpanned only half-jokingly. To say the brat was troublesome was to say nothing.

''Oh, no,'' Minerva shook her head and a soft smile appeared on her wrinkled face. ''I called a meeting of heads of houses. Filius, Pomona and Jocasta should be already awaiting us.''

''Well, Headmistress, should I feel offended to be the last person to receive an invitation?'' he raised an eyebrow.

Minerva put on her stoic mask. ''I am in no position to tell you how you should feel, Severus.''

A gargoyle and a spiral staircase later two teachers arrived at the door of the office. ''After you,'' the Headmistress politely gestured.

Severus looked at his superior questioningly. His intuition of a spy was telling him something wasn't right about the meeting. Minerva looked as if she was trying to hide something and Severus had to admit she was going a great job at it – hadn't he know her so well, he wouldn't have probably spotted that. He turned the doorknob, figuring he was about to find out in a moment.

First of all, the three other heads of houses weren't the only teachers in the room. Frankly, the only person missing was Sybill, but the seer was known for her dislike of meetings and events. The other thing was a cake put neatly in the middle of the room on a table. A fucking cake with candles with plates and forks placed next to it.

Severus was about to question this madness, when his colleagues sang, or perhaps shouted, in unison ''Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you...'' Filius was using his wand as a baton, having taken the role of the conductor of the choir of teachers.

Oh, yes, he had forgotten today was his birthday. He had never cared about the day, not seeing what made it so special – with every passing day he was getting older than the previous one. ''Thank you. This surely comes as a surprise,'' he looked at the gathering with a small dose of distrust. ''You needn't have.''

''On contrary, Severus,'' Minerva said firmly. ''We haven't showed you enough gratitude.''

''You are a bit of a madman, Snape, but your heart is in the right place,'' said Jocasta.

Severus scratched the back of his hand. ''Why, thank you, O'Cathail, for your insight on the anatomy of my body,'' he said flatly.

Minerva streached out her arms as if she wanted to prevent the ex-Auror and ex-spy from starting a fight. ''Peace, both of you! Sweet Merlin, you are like children,'' she sighed massaging her temples.

''Thank yer fer things yeh done fer Harry,'' the half-giant threw his arms around Severus' thin frame and wet ex-spy's robe with his tears.

''I would say it is a joint effort,'' he said stiffly.

When Severus was released from Hagrid's embrace, Pomona stepped out and insecurily faced the Potions Master. She wiped her hands against her stained robe, seemingly looking for words. ''Severus, I'm sorry for not supporting you during your trial. You are a loyal, hard-working person. You would make a good Hufflepuff,'' she chuckled and patted his shoulder. ''Many happy returns.''

''It's alright, Pomona. I've never held a grudge against you,'' he assured. ''And while I appreciate the compliment, I would not feel comfortable wearing yellow.''

Filius was already tearful when he approached Severus. ''There's a lot to be said, but if I wanted to say it all I'm afraid we would all be confined here for at least entire month and someone has to keep an eye on students. Let's just say I am honoured to have you as my esteemed colleague and I wish you all the best on your 39^th birthday,'' then short Charms Master waved at the Potions Master, urging him to lean over. Filius put his hand next to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially. ''I'm sure Ravenclaw would accept you with open arms with your wits.''

A smirk sparked by amusement danced at the corners of Severus' lips. ''What do I need to tell you for you to understand I am a Slytherin through and through?''

Minerva cleaned her glasses against her robe. ''I would like to remind you that Gryffindor offer is on the table as well.''

Severus shot his superior a sceptical look. ''Have you truly thought you could outsmart me, Headmistress? I saw through your vile plan – you want me to change my affiliation so that I won't be the head of Slytherin anymore.''

''Actually it was my idea,'' Jocasta volunteered.

Once thanks and wishes were said to the point Severus felt out of place, the Arithmancy teacher lit up the candles.

''Make a wish!'' Ancient Runes teacher encouraged and soon others joined the chant.

''What yeh waitin' fer?'' Hagrid asked.

''Come on, Severus!'' Filius clapped.

Seeing the doubtful, stubborn scowl upon the former spy's face, Minerva sternly looked at him. ''It would appear you have no other choice but to blow the candles.'' Her voice was almost drowned out by the voices repeatedly telling Severus to make a wish.

Severus grimaced and sighed tiredly. He leant forward, watching the dancing flames at the ends of candles. All the unnecessary tumult and for what? And yet it was his 39^th birthday... a year ago he had thought the chances of him surviving long enough to turn 39 minuscule. How different his life was from that of last year. Year ago he had been a man on a death row with an impossible task at hand and today... he had a future ahead of him, he realised with almost existential dread. He has been aware of it since the Wizengamot had found him not guilty, but in this moment the simplicity of it made it impossible to ignore, not unlike the silver strands in his black hair.

He smirked and took a deep breath. For the first time since his childhood he was curious what the future had in store for him. He closed his eyes, waiting a second before blowing the candles. And so against himself Severus made a wish.

Chapter Text

''Class, as you are aware, on the last January lesson you are going to take the semestral test.'' Young witches and wizards showed their enthusiasm by groaning. ''I know semestral test aren't quite popular among the student, but I would like to ask you to take it seriously. The semestral test is going to be one of the last moments when you can examine your knowledge before the N.E.W.T.s. Today and the following week we are going to revise the charms you've learnt this semester,'' professor Flitwick waved his wand, placing a lock in front of each of his students. ''We are going to start with the Anti-Alohomora charm.''

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry focues his gaze on the lock on his desk. ''Alohomoram prohibeo!'' he said, unsure if the spell worked. At least with the Alohomora charm the results arrived immediately.

''Oh my God, Ron, it's 'Alohomoram prohibeo' not 'Alohomoram prohibeo'!'' Hermione impatiently explained to her boyfriend, ready to take away his wand unless he pronounced the incantation correctly.

Ron huffed and crossed his arms offended. ''Thanks, I know how to say 'Alohomooora','' he overextended the syllabe, earning an eyeroll from Hermione.

Ginny smirked meanly, as the majority of siblings do given a chance to make fun of their siblings. ''Ron isn't exactly a master at linguistics, as you have probably noticed by now Hermione,'' she snorted.

However, Hermione missed the punchline as she scrunched her nose in confusion. ''I don't think that at all! Ron was great with his Parseltongue skills!''

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair. ''Yeah... it's nothing,'' Ron shrugged insecurily. ''I kinda got familiar with it over the years of listening to Harry speaking in Parseltongue in his sleep.''

A ball of paper hit Harry's ear. Rubbing his ear, he looked to his back left.

''Merlin, get a room!'' Harper made a face like he was about to vomit. His sentiment was seconded by his fellow Slytherin, Brownleek, who was making puking noises.

Hermione put on her meaniest expression. ''And you'd better work on you throwing skills.''

''You know, Mione, maybe it's not the best idea to say someone they failed to hit you,'' Ron whispered. ''Hey? Who did that!'' he clenched his fists.

Eusebius Purflor was already squashing another piece of paper into a ball. ''This might be the first time I actually agree with a Slytherin. Get a freakin' room!''

Loud bang of a book hitting a heavy wooden desk startled the class. ''Silence!'' professor Flitwick ordered, not quite shouting. Frankly, Harry couldn't imagine the Charms Master raising his voice like Snape or McGonagall on their bad days. ''Stop throwing objects, we're not revising the Banishing Charm!'' Just as Flitwick said the last word, a paper ball hit him between his eyes.

Watching the scene, Harry felt a wave nostalgia for his classes with Seamus and Dean. At this point Seamus' lock would have probably set itself on fire, his spellcasting being often rather explosive.

After few minutes, having got bored with throwing paper balls, unruly students calmed down, enough for Flitwick to continue the lesson.

The tiny professor rubbed his forehead. ''Now exchange your locks with your neighbour and cast on your neighbour's the Alohomora charm.''

Naturally, Hermione had no trouble opening Ron's lock with Alohomora, while Ron gave up after third try with Hermione's, her charm being apparently spotless, much to red-head's embarrassment.

After the Charms the trio walked down the corridors, looking for a comfortable spot to sit down, while Ginny went to chat with Luna. Unfortunately the break was too short to go back to Gryffindor common room in front of the fireplace. They would have to head for the greenhouse before they would get the chance to properly warm themselves up. Just as they sat down on a windowsill, Dennis Creevey spotted them.

''Potter!'' the younger Gryffindor called angrily.

Ron sighed tiredly. ''What is it now, Dennis? Can't you already fuck off?''

''Ron!'' Hermione glared at her boyfriend, her attention having been transferred from the book she was holding on her laps.

''What?'' Ron shrugged blankly. ''He's a git and a pain in the ass.''

Hermione jabbed the red-head, observing Dennis warily from the corners of her eyes. ''You could show him some compassion...''

''I don't need your pity, Granger!'' Dennis clenched his fists.

Harry slid from the windowsill. ''Look, Dennis, we've been through this. I know how you feel-''

Dennis took a step forward. ''You know nothing!''

''I do know! I know you are hurt. I know you want to smash things and yell at people who failed you. You want them to feel your pain,'' Harry thought of himself unleashing his unadulterated rage in Dumbledore's office following Sirius' demise. ''Trust me – it's not gonna make you feel better!''

Ron crossed his arms and muttered unhappily. ''You didn't give me this kind of speeches. Or Ginny for that matter.''

''Maybe it will!'' Dennis pushed Harry towards the wall.

Hermione quickly put the book aside. ''Leave him alone!'' she jumped off the windowsill.

''And what if I refuse?'' Dennis took out his wand. ''Locomotor Wibbly!'' he said and Hermione's legs gave way.

Ron's eyes burnt with fury. He launched himself at his fellow Gryffindor with his fists clenched, his wand forgotten.

''Ron, no!'' Hermione protested. ''I'll be fine! Ron!'' she called desperately, even though it was clear her boyfriend wasn't listening.

Dennis, however, wasn't a helpless caged animal. He leant forward and charged at Ron's torso forcefully, making both boys fall to the ground. Harry stood there stupefied by the series of events.

Hermione tried to stand up, in vain. ''Harry, stop those idiots!'' she let her hands down powerlessly. Then she reached for her wand and began making gestures over her legs.

''Protego!'' Harry shouted, separating the two students. Ron, now adorning a black eye, shot Harry a glare as if he just had been insulted.

In this very moment Snape emerged from behind a half-column, the stealthy bat. ''Well, well. What we have got here? A scuffle between Gryffindors. I am sure professor O'Cathail is going to love the news.'' Snape's attention was transferred to Hermione. ''Granger, you should work on your DADA expertise if you want to achieve the N.E.W.T.''

Harry deflated. Simply wonderful – not only he willingly signed up for extra Potions, now he was also going to be given a detention, alongside three other Gryffindors.

Dennis licked his bloodied teeth, send Snape a gaze filled with contempt and spat a bloody spit next to teacher's foot.

Snape sneered. ''I suppose you are going to enjoy scrubing cauldrons this Saturday, Creevey. Ten points from Gryffindor and a detention!'' After another angry stare sent by Dennis, Snape went on. ''This is the moment you walk away, Creevey. If you don't get up this instant, I am going to drag you to the DADA office,'' he hissed.

The threat had worked as Dennis slowly lifted himself from the floor and grumpily walked away, making sure his feet made the most noise by scraping against the tiles, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. Snape grimaced and turned around. Once the teacher was out of sight, Ron chuckled.

Having successfully removed the jinx, Hermione slowly got up. ''What's so funny, Ron?'' she scolded him.

''I think we got lucky, eh, mate?'' Ron playfully jabbed Harry with his elbow.

Harry stared at the corner behind which Snape had disappeared. ''I think we have,'' he said absent-mindedly.

''Don't move, Ron,'' Hermione requested firmly. ''Episkey!'' she called and Ron felt warmth below his left eye socket.

The red-head touched the spot, relieved not to feel any discomfort. ''Thanks, Hermione, you are simply wonderful,'' he sighed dreamily.

Hermione scoffed. ''And you are reckless. Hurry up, we're gonna be late for Herbology!'' she added impatiently.

The trio ran towards the greenhouse until their legs hurt. As much as Harry loved Hogwarts he despised hurring for classes and running around the entire large castle to got to his classes on time. Harry opened up the greenhouse' door not subtly, earning himself and his friends unwanted attention. Hermione blushed, cowering her head apologetically.

''What took you so long?'' Ginny whispered to Harry when he sat down next to her.

Professor Sprout put her hands on her hips, taking a strict pose. ''Oh, look, who decided to join us? Take a sit, we have no time to waste,'' she added, but her soft smirk gave away she was more amused than annoyed.

''I'll explain later,'' Harry whispered back.

Professor spot him a disapproving glance. ''As I was saying, but the latecomers didn’t get a chance to hear – today we are covering the Sopophorous Bean. By now you should be aware of at least some of its uses.''

''It’s an ingredient of the Draught of Living Death,'' Harry said surprising himself even more than Hermione, who was already waiting with her hand raised up.

''Excellent! Five points for Gryffindor! And I see Ms. Granger knew the answer too. Well done! Professor Snape would be most disappointed if you forgot about this special ingredient.'' the head of Hufflepuff chuckled. ''However you are not going to cut it today-''

''Better crush it,'' Harry muttered quietly to Ginny’s amusement.

The red-haired girl playfully nudged her boyfriend. ''I see the extra Potions are already paying off.''

''You are going to learnt how to keep the plant alive, so that it breeds these useful beans,'' professor Sprout went on.

''And I think you’re spending too much time with the greasy git,'' Ron whispered a bit harshly, earning himself a scoff from Hermione.

''I’ve only had one-'' Harry started excusing himself.

Their discussion was cut short by the sound of a massive clay pot being put forcefully on a wooden table.''Quiet, you Gryffindors!'' professor Sprout ordered in a booming voice. ''Don’t make me take away from Gryffindor the points you’ve just earnt.''

Then Pomona Sprout rolled up the sleeves of her robe and put her hand on the both sides of the pot. ''Firsts of all, you must ensure the earth has the right humidity. Sopophorous is a fastidious plant. Put your finger into the soil,'' she demonstrated by pushing well over haf of her index finger into the pot’s contents. ''If the earth is too sticky or too oily, the plant is going to rot. If it’s too sandy or too tight and hard to break apart, it’s going to wither,'' she pulled out her finger. ''This one is just right.''

Next, the teacher picked a bean and presented it to the class, before pushing it into a hole her finger left in the earth. ''The bean needs to be put about two, two-and-half inches into the ground,'' she explained, covering the bean with the excess soil.

---

''Potter, I see you decided to your show up in a more timely fashion,'' Snape greeted him, sitting behind the teacher's desk, if it could be called a 'greeting'.

''You told me not to be late, sir,'' Harry said flatly, not really feeling like talking with his teacher. He put his bag on the desk and reached for his cauldron.

''You are not going to require that today,'' Snape said when Harry was halfway through taking out the cauldron. ''Only your book and a sheet of parchment.'' Harry eyed the Potions Master warily. Snape got up and took a few steps towards his student. ''Since it was brought up to my attention last week that you lack the rudimentary knowledge, I have deemed it necessary to cover with you the theoretical aspect of the subject before returning to the practical side.''

Harry gave his teacher the most pained expression. Brewing potions wasn't Harry's favourite thing on its own, but learning Potions theory made him feel like he was dying from the inside.

Snape grimaced. ''Cease with your antics, Potter. You are an adult even by muggle standards, so behave accordingly. Now, remind me the Golpalott's laws.''

Harry blinked blankly. ''Erm,'' he cleared his throat. ''The antidote for poison is uh... a sum of,'' Snape arched his eyebrow sceptically. ''I mean, more than a sum of...''

''Enough, Potter,'' Potions Master raised his hand, telling Harry to stop. ''It is clear you remember none of Golpalott's laws. I am quite curious as to why you have decided to start your answer with the third law?''

Harry looked around the classroom as if it could hint him a response to the question at hand. Frankly, Harry himself wasn't sure why he went for the Golpalott's Third Law. ''It's what we covered with professor Slughorn during sixth year,'' he said meekly.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Yes, I am glad you remember the Golpalott's Third Law is a part sixth-year Potions curriculum, Potter. Now explain me – how do you plan on brewing an antidote for a blended poison when you don't remember the laws for making antidotes for simple poisons?'' Snape took Harry's silence as an answer. ''Exactly, Potter,'' he eyed him strictly.

Snape turned around and grabbed a chair. Putting it on the opposite side of Harry's desk, he said ''Take your parchment and quill,'' the teacher sat down. ''We are going to start with the Golpalott's First Law – the antidote for a simple poison which ingredients are common ingredients will be equal to the sum of poison's ingredients' counteragents. Now repeat in your own words the rule set out by this law,'' he asked, looking Harry right into eyes.

Harry huffed – he knew Snape didn't consider him the sharpest tool in the shed, but he needn't have to show it in nearly all of their interactions. He wasn't that dumb to have trouble understanding simple sentences! ''If a poison was made with common ingredients the antidote is made with counteragents of the ingredients.''

Snape nodded. ''Now write down ingredients for the antidote to the Fire-Breathing Potion.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''But that's a potion, not a poison!''

''Every potion can also become a poison. Moreover, the Fire-Breathing Potion often comes with unwanted side effects,'' Snape explained impatiently.

Harry dropped his quill and crossed his arms. ''Why are we even learning this? Can't I just use the Antidote to Common Poisons instead?''

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. ''The so-called common antidotes are not always effective. Even a bezoar does not cure very single case of poisoning.''

''Well, the trick with bezoar saved Ron's life,'' Harry shrugged. ''It's not like you wanted to work your way through the Golpalott's Third Law in your sixth year either, sir,'' he dared.

Snape gritted his teeth at the reminder of his old book, but then his face quickly took a neutral expression. ''Workarounds might be useful in scenarios, when quick thinking is required. However, the exam commission certainly is not going to be pleased if you present them a bezoar instead of applying the Golpalott's Third Law during your Potions N.E.W.T.''

Harry opened up his mouth to argue, but Snape cut his short. ''No more questions, Potter! The recipe for the antidote is waiting.''

Harry groaned and looked at the empty parchment, scratching his head, and then looked again at his teacher.

''Yes, Potter, you may use a book to look up the ingredients for the Fire-Breathing Potion,'' Snape said tiredly.

Finding a book that covered the Fire-Breathing Potion recipe took Harry a moment. He put the book next to the parchment and stared at the ingredients list. Powdered dragon horn might have been a common ingredient, but what was its couteragent? Harry's gaze slid down the list and only greasy git's presence stopped him from slamming his face against the book. Find counteragent to a common ingredient. Easier said than done. Did Snape truly expect Harry to memorise every single one of them?

After a while Harry started writing down the antidote's ingredients, muttering under his breath and striking out an ingredient to replace it with another one from time to time. When he decided he wasn't going to come up anything better than what he had written down, he put his quill away.

''Have you finished, Potter?'' Snape glanced at the parchment.

''Yes, sir.''

Without asking the teacher grabbed the parchment. ''You took your time, Potter,'' he remarked. ''And your antidote is incorrect,'' he handed back the parchment. ''The counteragent to powdered dragon horn is an eagle owl feather, not a dandelion root,'' he clarified matter-of-factly, taking Harry by surprise a bit. Usually at this point Snape would be sneering and ridiculing him.

Several similar antidote ingredients lists later, Potions Master asked seemingly out of nowhere. ''Care to explain the reason behind Creevey's newfound antagonism towards you, Potter?''

Harry shifted his attention from the parchment to his teacher. ''You surely know the answer, sir,'' his voice was unpleasant. Harry didn't know why Snape brought up the subject and he wanted to make sure the ex-spy got the cue to drop it.

Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, the change in Harry's voice wasn't enough to discourage the teacher. ''Yes, Potter, I have my guesses. However, I would not have asked you if I had not wanted to hear your side of the story.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and glared his teacher right into those black orbs, challenging him. ''Can't you just read my mind?''

Snape picked up the gauntlet and stared back into Harry's green eyes. ''For the last time, Potter, Legilimency is not 'mind-reading' as you put it. Moreover, I have no desire to enter your mind ever again. So humour me, Potter.''

Harry threw his hands up. ''And I see no point in talking about it! Sir,'' he spat the last word.

Snape crossed his arms and leant his back against the backrest of his chair. ''I will wait, then. I have all the time in the world,'' then he glanced at Harry's parchment seemingly without much interest. ''Have you finished listing ingredients for the antidote to the Laugh-inducing Potion?''

Harry bowed his head and dug his fingers into his hair. He knew the Potions Master well enough to realise Snape was going to keep returning to the matter until Harry submitted to his will. ''Ugh! Fine! Dennis blames me for Colin's death! Happy now?!'' Harry didn't even notice when he started panting in anger.

Snape bent forward, his gaze still locked onto Harry. ''But you are aware death of the elder of the Creevey brothers is not your fault?''

Harry scoffed. ''What does it matter whose fault it is? It might as well have been mine,'' Harry chuckled humourlessly. ''Colin joined D.A. because of me. Fred and Lavender were in D.A. too... We shouldn't have started it. I should have quit, they mostly joined because of me. And-and Tonks and Remus-'' Harry swallowed. He felt absolutely pathetic, he could feel he was on the verge of having a breakdown. Right in front of his once most beloathed teacher.

Snape, sitting at the opposite side of Harry's desk, intertwined his fingers and displayed them on the desk. ''Knowing the famed Gryffindor moral compass, your friends would have joined the organisation even if you had not been its member. If you had quit, they would have stayed anyway.'' Harry glanced at his teacher doubtfully. ''Do not forget, Potter, I have been a teacher for almost half of my life – I have seen enough students to know how your friends would have acted. As for Nymphadora and Lupin, they were not members of your little organisation if I recall correctly.''

''Yes, but-'' Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should carry the conversation. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Snape out of all people, but on the other hand something inside him yearned to get it off his chest. And maybe Snape would understand, having been forced to make impossible choices himself. ''They did it for me,'' he said weakly.

Snape shook his head. ''Have you for once tried considering you are not the centre of the universe, Potter?''

Harry clenched his fists. Just when he thought he had a thread of common understanding with Snape, Snape had to return to the old trick of calling Harry arrogant and pampered like his father. ''I do not think I am! I never had!''

The former spy remained unmoved by the outburst. ''Are you quite done, Potter? I merely wanted to point out your friends would have made the same exact choices even if you had told them to quit. Their loyalty towards you might have been a factor, but first and foremost they were Gryffindors. They desired to do what was right – they desired to fight against the Dark Lord. They wouldn't have waited for the war to come to an end. They would always have made that choice.''

''Tonks was a Hufflepuff,'' Harry muttered.

''She was also an Auror. Yes, you feel sorry for her son, having been orphaned early yourself, but remember she and Lupin knew the risk and the stakes,'' Snape said firmly. ''They all knew. Moreover, as far I am concerned, professor McGonagall forbade underage students from paritcipating in the battle. No one asked Creevey to fight, on the contrary – Creevey chose to disobey the order.''

On the surface Snape's words made sense, but they didn't sit right with Harry. They made Harry's gut twist. Denying them felt like defending his late friends' honour. ''It was me who dragged them into D.A. and the whole 'opposing Voldemort' thing!''

Snape winced at the mention of the once-forbidden name and put his hand over the Dark Mark, squeezing it lightly.

Harry's covered his mouth at the slip up, his anger, directed mostly at himself, replaced with sympathy. ''Sorry, sir... I-I thought it doesn't hurt anymore,'' he said apologetically.

Snape waved his hand dismissively. ''It does not. Not since the Dark Lord died. It's a matter of habit.''

Potions Master words made Harry's sympathy even greater. Snape having been conditioned to expect pain upon hearing Voldemort's name was unfair. And Dumbledore having been throwing the name left and right in Snape's company even more so.

''Regardless,'' the teacher went on. ''I do not think you dragged your friends into anything. Actually, I believe our late Headmaster's bold statements played a much more important role.''

''But I could have stopped them!'' Harry protested.

''No, Potter, you couldn't have. It was war. People die. Not everyone can be saved,'' Snape said firmly. It felt like he was talking from his own experience. Most likely he was. ''You need to make peace with that thought.''

'Only those I couldn't save,' rang in Harry's head and he looked at his teacher's face. A face that hid emotions so well, yet strangely Harry recognised remorse behind it.

''Have talked with your friends about it?'' Snape asked.

Harry shrugged in response. ''Not really. I mean, Ginny and Ron lost their brother and I don't wanna open up that wound. I know they don't blame me, but...'' he sighed and the corner of his mouth twitched. ''Hermione told me something alike the lines of what you've said, that it wasn't my fault and stuff, but I dunno,'' he shrugged again.

Snape took Harry's parchment and started writing down something on the unwritten side of the parchment. ''Regret over things you could not control is useless. It will eat you from the inside, leaving you wishing you had done things differently, when you could not have.'' The teacher returned the parchment to his student. ''I think that's quite enough for today. For the next lesson write down ingredients for antidotes to the listed poisons.''

Harry nodded and got up. He packed the parchment and his book into his rucksack.

''Potter?'' Snape called as Harry was about to open the door. Harry shot him a questioning glance. ''Consider talking the matter we've discussed over with your friends.''

Chapter Text

''Uh, I don't know... are you sure it is a good idea?'' Hermione said insecurily.

Ron rolled his eyes. ''Mione, stop nagging! Don't you wanna meet with Neville?''

The bookworm rubbed her gloved hands against her shoulders. ''Of course I want to!'' she protested and vaporised air escaped her mouth. ''But we've got semestral test the week following the next one.''

''Exactly! That's a lot of time,'' Ron made a face to put an emphasis on his thesis.

Harry smirked at his friends' conversation. It really felt nice to focus on such mundane things like tests and crunching of snow under his feet. He was also glad that school robes were long enough to wear muggle jeans underneath without anyone noticing. He couldn't quite wrap his head around not wearing trousers in winter. Maybe biting cold made Slytherins so bitter and mean.

''You know, I rarely agree with Ron, but he's got a point – it's a Hogmeade weekend,'' Ginny shrugged.

''Oh, alright,'' Hermione grumbled. ''Just don't come whining when you fail your tests, Ron.''

''Have I been ever whining about my grades?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Harry wrinkled his nose. ''Once or twice maybe?''

''And we're not coming anywhere near the construction site!'' Hermione ordered harshly.

''Ugh, we don't even know if it was the construction site that cursed Harry,'' Ron pointed out.

Harry glanced briefly at his girlfriend. She didn't need to say a word for Harry to recognise she seconded Hermione's doubts. Frankly, Harry had no will to risk getting cursed again as well. ''Yeah, I think Hermione's right,'' he said without much conviction in his voice.

Ron only shot his friend a curious and maybe slightly surprised look. ''How much time do you think it's gonna take to repair the castle?'' he opted for a change of subject.

''Well,'' Hermione made a know-it-all face. ''The construction of the Hogwarts Castle took nearly a quarter of century and the brightest witches and wizards were involved. Only one wall needs to be rebuilt, so...'' she looked up, doing her Maths in her mind. ''Maybe it'll take three years?''

When the quatro arrived at the Three Broomsticks, they found Luna inside, most likely awaiting them.

''Luna!'' Ginny waved at the Ravenclaw.

Blonde's unfocused stare slowly gained clarity. ''Oh, I haven't noticed you,'' she said absent-mindedly.

''Don't worry about that,'' Harry smiled encouragingly, even though he doubted Luna would ever worry about such a thing.

The Gryffindors joined the girl without an invitation. Ron tilted to right and then to left, looking around. ''Listen, is Neville around?''

Luna moved her spectrespecs from her nose to her head. ''No, I assumed he might be busy catching warlocks.''

''On Saturday?'' Ron grimaced.

Hermione snorted. ''You know, Ron, Aurors don't have the usual nine-to-five, Monday to Friday working hours.''

''He's not even a trainee yet,'' Ron remarked slightly offended. ''Besides, it's not like we aren't already working all the time. Ah, I tell you, when we graduate we will have more free time.''

''I hope his entrance exams went well,'' Ginny said anxiously. ''He really put a lot of effort.''

A witch approached their table. ''What will be for you, darlings?'' Madam Rosmerta greeted them.

Harry looked at his friends. ''The usual one. Butterbeer.''

''So you two want to start a career so early?'' Luna turned a page of a book she was reading upside down. At least this time it wasn't the Quibbler magazine.

''Yeah, why?'' Ron asked in a manner that suggested he wasn't really interested in Ravenclaw's opinion. ''What's what everyone's doing.''

''I'm gonna continue my Magizoology studies,'' Luna said without being asked about her post-graduation plans.

Hermione's face lit up at the mention of someone willing to go forward in their studies. ''Oh, but that's splendid!''

''Have you told Hagrid? He'll be overjoyed to find someone pursue the care of magical creatures,'' Harry asked.

''Naturally. Hagrid encourages me every lesson,'' Luna smiled dreamily, probably thinking about some non-existent magical creatures her father had told her about.

''Oh!'' Hermione grabbed a large class of butterbeer rocking in the air near her head.

The rest took the anxiously swinging glasses as well, except for Luna, who was looking at some unspecified point on the wall with her chin rested on her hand. Only when the glass of butterbeer couldn't take it anymore and surrendered to the gravitation with a loud slam against the wooden table, splashing its contents around, the Ravenclaw appeared to notice it.

Luna curiously looked inside the glass and shrugged unfased by the discovery that nearly half of her butterbeer had been spilled.

Ron took a healthy gulf from his glass and licked foam of his mouth.

''Shouldn't we wait for Neville?'' Ginny shot her brother a judging look as she was making circles on the table with her own glass.

''By the time he arrives butterbeer will be completely unsparkled and unfoamed,'' Ron reasoned.

Hermione grimaced. ''I'm not sure if these words even exist...''

As if he had been summoned, Neville ran into the pub panting. He scanned the place for his friends and headed in their direction.

''Sorry, guys, didn't want to keep you waiting,'' Neville swallowed trying to catch his breath.

''You don't have to worry about that. Ron wasn't waiting,'' Ginny said flatly.

''Hey!'' Ron protested.

Harry shook his head, amused by the siblings' banter. ''Glad you made it, mate.''

''Tough day at work?'' Hermione asked sympathetically.

''Uh, no,'' Neville sat down. ''Grandma kept me a bit longer for the housework,'' he added quieter, visibly embarrassed.

''I'd love to help my dad with rebuilding our home,'' Luna said unprompted.

''How your exams went?'' Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

This time it was Ron's turn at shotting disapproving glances. ''Hermione, Neville hasn't even ordered a drink yet!''

''Speaking of which, what will be for you?'' Madam Rosmerta appeared next to their table again.

''Erm,'' Neville looked around the table. ''Butterbeer, please.''

''So well-behaved the lot of you,'' the witch chuckled. ''Let me know when you feel like trying some stronger beverages.''

Neville drummed his fingers against the table in an awkward silence. ''I think I failed the Potions,'' he admitted after a moment.

''Come on, mate!'' Ron wrinkled his nose. ''First you said they wouldn't let you take the exam, because you achieved only an 'A' at Potions, now you say you failed Potions. Screw them, who cares about Potions! You'll become an Auror anyway.''

Harry turned around to see if by chance the dour Potions Master wasn't sitting behind them. The man had a thing for appearing out of nowhere. Luckily, there was no Snape within the visible distance.

''It would be cool if they postponed the beginning of your training until October, so we could be in the same year, though. Don't you think?'' Ron went on.

''Thank you,'' Neville nodded at the owner of the pub and took the glass of butterbeer. ''Yeah, it would be nice to have you around.''

''I think you are better at Potions than you think, Neville,'' Hermione offered softly. Harry wasn't certain if she truly meant it. Probably not – Neville was notoriously terrible at Potions. Everyone knew it. ''They'll accept you, you'll see. Though, I must admit I'm happy for Harry taking extra Potions before the N.E.W.T.s.''

Neville choked on his butterbeer. He coughed again before asking ''Since when?''

''Since beginning of this month,'' Harry reluctantly admitted.

''With Snape?'' Neville furrowed his eyebrows as if he was faced with a particularly difficult equation.

''Yup,'' Ginny nodded.

''So, you have them during your detentions or what?'' Neville still wasn't sold on the idea of Harry voluntarily taking extra Potions.

''Snape stopped giving Harry detentions even before Harry got cursed,'' Luna spoke casually, skimming through the book.

''You what?'' Neville stared at Harry incredulously. ''Are you OK?''

''Yeah, it was months ago,'' Harry waved his hand, not wanting to dwell on that period in his life.

''I thought you told Neville,'' Luna mused.

''Anyway, I don't know if the extra classes are worth anything – Snape decided to ban me from using cauldrons before I revise the theory,'' Harry grimaced.

Ron looked at his friend curiously. ''But you are using a cauldron during normal Potions.''

''I know, right? Tell it to the git,'' Harry huffed.

''And I think it's a good thing to have strong theoretical backbone,'' Hermione said.

Noticing Neville's unconvinced expression, Ginny bit inside of her cheek, indecisive. ''A lot has happened since our last meeting in Hogmeade.''

''I can see that! Why haven't told you anything?'' Neville said slightly offended.

Hermione had decency to look ashamed. ''Look, we didn't want to worry you...''

''Harry, you said it was months ago,'' Neville's voice was a bit accusatory.

''More like one and half month ago. At least if we're counting since Harry was cured,'' Hermione corrected warily.

''You could have told me during the Christmas break,'' Neville said reproachfully.

''On the second thought, we should have reached out to you. We might have required information from the Auror Department library,'' Ron recalled.

Neville narrowed his eyes in confusion. ''I don't think they would let me in. But you owe me an explanation, guys.''

The quatro exchanged insecure glances, before filling their friend in. The story called for another round of butterbeer.

''My dad says the Song of the Four Founders had been censored at some point. Don't you think it's suspicious it doesn't mention the famed Founders' relics? Dad has read the poem numerous times in search for clues regarding the diadem,'' Luna spoke casually, appartenly not noticing her friends staring at her as if she shared with them some kind of epiphany. Harry on the other hand was surprised that seemingly it hadn't crossed three Gryffindors' minds to ask Luna about the curse. Sure, the Ravenclaw could be a bit unhinged at times, but actually sometimes had a knowledge about seemingly forgotten lore.

''Do you think they censored the fragment about the curse?'' Ginny pondered on the idea.

''I still don't get it. Why would you be cursed, Harry?'' Neville narrowed his eyes.

''Well, Madam Pomfrey said their best guess is it was caused by my connection to Voldemort,'' Harry said, having swallowed a gulp of butterbeer.

''But why didn't the curse hit him instead then?'' Neville's mind was currently preoccupied with the mystery.

''Horcruxes, maybe?'' Ron shrugged.

---

Hermione might have had a point when she told them they needed more time to prepare for semestral tests than only one week.

Potions were an absolute nightmare. Not that Harry had ever expected them to become easy. As he was leaving the Potions classroom, he was wondering if Snape was going to deem Harry completely unfit for Potions and cancel the extra classes. Well, if he had, Harry at least would not have to waste his time on Golpalott's laws.

Transfiguration with only two-classes long break after the Potions, proved itself to be much more difficult than Harry had anticipated. McGonagall's strict gaze didn't make it any easier to concentrate.

Compared to the two Monday semestral tests, Charms were like a piece of cake. Maaaybe a little bit stale cake, considering Harry managed to muck up the Anti-Alohomora charm.

During the Herbology test Harry was actually grateful Hermione had tortured him with Floo flower and violas, as one of questions was to name their differences.

Much to Harry's disappointment, DADA test consisted only of written assignments. A glance at the questions made him recall Snape asking about ghosts and inferi. He had no idea what for he was supposed to describe banshees. It's better to know how to avoid them and how to fight them. 'They shriek', Harry wrote down, scratching his head. He would do so much better in practical exam, he was sure of that.

Back in the Gryffindor common room Harry slouched on a couch in a pose not unlike to Dali's clocks. Ron also looked like a piece of stretched warm wax.

''Oh, I'm sure I failed Arithmancy!'' Hermione lamented.

''Mione, give it a rest,'' Ron drawled. ''I wish I was failing like you.''

''Yeah,'' Harry sighed. ''It's kinda embarrassing I flunked DADA. It was my subject.''

''You don't know that. Maybe it didn't go that bad,'' Ginny said.

''I knew I should have studied harder!'' Hermione went on. ''After all the seventh year semestral tests are supposed to match the N.E.W.T.s' difficulty.''

''Then we are cooked,'' Ron huffed. ''I can't imagine passing this kind of exam.''

''And tomorrow I've got Runes!'' Hermione was unstoppable in her complaining.

Harry grumbled something unintelligible under his nose, thinking of ways to avoid tomorrow's extra Potions. He definitely had spent enough time with Potions this week.

---

Fighting his way through Potter's assignments made Severus wonder if the muggle school system had neglected to teach the boy basic Maths skills. The Golpalott's Second Law clearly stated that the antidote for a simple poison which at least one of ingredients is an uncommon ingredient will be equal to more than the sum of poison's ingredients' counteragents, while the boy in many instances wrote down the recipe for an antidote skipping the one additional ingredient.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, fearing to think what kind of ludicrous statements he was about to find in Potter's semestral test once he got to reviewing it.

Students complained about the semestral and yearly tests, but the truth was, teachers weren't looking forward to them either. While the brats had at best maybe ten tests to take, teachers had to read through hundreds of them in total for all seven years.

Per usual, the concept of punctuality proved itself to be alien to Potter. The brat ran into the classroom out of breath three past 4 P.M.

''Ah, Potter, I see you have decided to turn up today,'' Severus deadpanned.

''Sorry, sir,'' the boy said not too apologetically and started unpacking his bag.

Severus walked to his own desk and grabbed Gryffindor's last week's assignment. Placing it in front of the boy, he said ''Could you remind me the Golpalott's Second Law?''

''Sooo...'' the boy's gaze landed everywhere but on Severus's face. ''If simple potion is made of at least one uncommon ingredient, the antidote is made of ingredients' counteragents and one additional ingredient.''

''That is correct,'' Severus crossed his arms. He was not going to scold the boy for not giving him a word-for-word description from a book – he preferred students to use their own words instead of reciting books Hermione Granger style. ''Now that you apparently remember the Golpalott's Second Law, explain me, why you omitted the 'one additional ingredient' in five exercises and named a wrong one in three others?'' Severus tapped his finger against the notes in red ink on Potter's assignment.

Potter snorted in contempt. ''And how am I supposed to guess what is the correct secret ingredient, sir? It could be anything – Floo powder, my spit, who knows what else!''

''No, it cannot be anything, Potter,'' Severus said harshly. ''The one final ingredient is determined by the properties of the concoction. Surely professor Slughorn has told you that?''

''Uh, no,'' Potter said insecurily. ''Professor Slughorn said no such a thing.''

''You must have covered all three Golpalott's laws. That principle is true for the second and third law. Professor Slughorn must have told you that,'' Severus explained impatiently. The boy surely slept through the classes and tried to blame his lack of knowledge on Horace.

''Weeell, actually, we've only covered the third one, sir,'' Potter looked down at the assignment, his mind set on not meeting Severus' gaze.

And maybe it was for the best he missed a chance at noticing the startled expression on Severus' face. ''We have no time for your jokes, Potter. Horace must have covered all three Golpalott's laws with you. Your inability to focus on Potions is no excuse for you not remembering the basic principles behind the Golpalott's laws.''

''How many times do you need to hear it, sir!'' Potter clenched his fists and his green eyes were aflame with anger. ''We have never discussed the first and second one!''

Severus inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to calm himself down. The brat wasn't kidding or making up excuses. That much was clear. Fucking Horace, Severus thought. ''You cannot understand the Golpalott's Third Law without knowing the first two. Sweet Merlin!'' Severus turned his attention once more at the boy. ''Why haven't you told me, Potter? I have asked why you had started naming the Golpalott's laws with the third one, have I not? Why haven't told you professor Slughorn covered only that one?'' he asked sharply.

''I dunno,'' Potter shrugged. ''It hasn't really crossed my mind we should have discussed the other ones.''

Severus ran his hand down his face. ''All three laws are part of sixth year curriculum,'' he groaned. Wonderful, simply wonderful. Only at the end of first semester he was finding out he had to cover two leftover sixth year topics with his seventh year classes. He really needed to think of a better career. He exhaled slowly. ''Alright, Potter. The main thought behind Golpalott's laws is that you want to neutralise the poison. Therefore you need counteragents. However, when uncommon ingredients come into play, you need one additional ingredient to complete the process. Uncommon ingredients react differently in the process of brewing from the common ingredients, thus mixing only their counteragents is not enough to neutralise the poison.''

''Yeah, but that's not bringing me any closer to finding the right ingredient,'' Potter cut in.

Severus sighed tiredly. ''Think of it this way – you need some kind of ingredient with properties opposite to the properties of a poison. If a poison is thin, you want the antidote to be thick. If a poison is bright in colour, you want the antidote to be dark, and so on and so forth. I cannot believe professor Slughorn hasn't told you that.''

''Sure,'' Potter still looked unconvinced.

''Now that we discussed this rather basic matter, let's move onto the Golpalott's third law,'' Severus said, writing down tasks for Potter. ''How much to you recall of it?''

''Basically it's like the second law, but with blended poisons,'' Potter said, fidgeting with the edge of the sleeve of his robe. ''You mix antidotes for each of poisons and add an extra ingredient.''

''I am glad to hear you are drawing parallels between the Golpalott's laws,'' Severus said a bit drily, handing the boy a piece of parchment. ''This set of exercises should pose no problems to you, then.''

Observing the brat struggle with the Golpalott's third law, Severus could almost see the proverbial cogs turning inside his head. The unruly locks were covering boy's face and Severus curled his fingers against the desk, resisting the urge to brush them off his face. No, he would not get any closer to the brat. Potter had no idea James Potter was not his father and it was going to stay that way.

''Professor,'' Potter looked up at his teacher. ''If a blended poison is made of simple potions which ingredients are uncommon ingredients, it means the antidote for the blended poison requires counteragents to all the ingredients, plus one additional ingredient for each simple poison with uncommon ingredient, plus one additional ingredient on top for the blended poison?'' the boy was tapping his quill against the parchment.

''Yes, on paper. However, when it comes to brewing the antidote, it is vital to keep the right order. Which means antidotes for the simple potions ideally shoul be brewed separately and then mixed together in a cauldron. Adding the additional ingredient is the last step. If you try to brew an antidote by simply putting all the counteragents one by one at best you are going to get a useless sludge, at worst another poison.''

''Yeah, I think I'll stick to bezoar, then,'' Potter said quietly, but loud enough for Severus to hear. On some level Severus shared the sentiment. He wouldn't have come up with a workaround if he too hadn't thought in his teenage years that Golpalott's laws were rubbish.

When Potter returned the parchment with proposed solutions, some long forgotten part of Severus' psyche wondered if it was what parents felt when a child showed them an absolutely horrendous drawing awaiting a praise. Severus stomped on the thought – the brat was his only by blood and nothing else and he was not going to praise him for wrong answers.

''What have I just told you, Potter? A poison being a blend of the Angel's Trumpet Draught and the Noxious Poison is light in colour. Asphodel would only make it even whiter. The real final ingredient are doxy eggs,'' Severus crossed off Potter's answer with red ink.

''It's easy to say for you. You've got every potion, poison, antidote and ingredient memorised!'' Gryffindor huffed. ''No offence, sir, but I don't really have the time to memorise it all.''

Severus looked at the boy and the bags under his eyes. ''You look unwell, Potter,'' he stated simply. The brat surely hadn't got sick again... Severus would have most likely noticed if he had.

''Yeah, well, how am I supposed to look after five tests in one week, sir?'' the boy said flatly.

''Let's call it a day,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''It is clear you are not paying attention. At this point sitting here with you is a waste of time. Review all three Golpalott's laws for the next lesson.''

Chapter Text

''Potter, could you entertain your classmates and describe all three Golpalott's laws?'' Snape crossed his arms, looking at the student without much interest.

At the mention of the material students didn't recall covering, an anxious whisper arose in the classroom. Even Hermione was caught off guard by the request.

''We haven't talked about the first and the second one, have we?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, asking the same questions many other students were asking.

''I don't know if Slughorn covered it with you, he didn't with us,'' Ginny lowered her voice.

''Uhm, sir,'' Hermione raised her hand as usual in vain – Snape kept ignoring her.

Harry felt his palms getting clammy. ''All three, like the first, the second and the third one?'' he asked after clearing his throat. He looked around the classroom and it became apparent he wasn't the only person who was come over with cold sweat. Why would Snape have asked about the material they had covered only during extra Potions?

Snape impatiently raised an eyebrow. ''Don't make me repeat myself, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''Sir, but we've only discussed the Golpalott's third law,'' Hermione could not take the pressure anymore.

''Granger, five points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission,'' Snape said in a monotone voice. ''Potter, I am waiting.''

Harry swallowed and brushed his palms against his robe. ''Uh, so... the first Golpalott's law says that if a simple potion, uh, I mean poison, is made of only common ingredients, then ummm... the antidote is made of counteragents to poison's ingredients,'' he hung his voice in hesitation.

''Go on, Potter,'' Snape said.

''The second one... if simple poison is made of common... that is if it's made of at least one not common...''

''Uncommon,'' Ron whispered.

''Uh, uncommon ingredient, the antidote is made of more than the sum of counteragents... you need one additional ingredient. The third one is similar, but for blended poisons. The antidote is made of sum antidotes for each poison and one additional ingredient,'' Harry answered, feeling the blood had drained from his face.

Snape nodded. ''That is more or less correct, Potter. You may sit down.''

''The git should have awarded you at least ten points!'' Ron hissed in lowered voice.

''Weasley,'' Snape's silky voice took a threatening note. ''Is there a problem?''

Ron was about to talk back, but Hermione stomped on his foot. ''No, sir,'' he coughed out.

''Just like I thought,'' Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''As Ms. Granger was generous to point out, professor Slughorn had neglected to present the subject of all three Golpalott's laws as it is required by the sixth year curriculum. Regrettably, you have managed to get promoted to your seventh year ignorant to the existence of the first two laws. This is going to change today,'' he said as he picked a piece of chalk and turned around to face the blackboard.

The boys left the Potions Classroom in foul mood. Asking Harry about something that had been discussed during extra Potions felt like a treason, which was rather ridiculous – Harry knew he should have expected such a low blow from Snape. Meanwhile, Ron was dismayed by the assigments received from the teacher.

''Oh, man! A ten-inch assignment on the first Goldalot's-'' Ron whined.

''Golpalott's,'' Hermione corrected her boyfriend.

''Yeah, that guy,'' Ron rolled his eyes. ''And another ten inches on the second law, both for next week?! The bat is batshit crazy! Harry, couldn't you have done something to stop him?''

''Like what?!'' Harry threw his hands up in the air.

''Like... I dunno, something,'' Ron shrugged. ''You have extra classes with him, you could talk to him or...'' he shrugged once more for the lack of ideas.

''Like he would listen,'' Harry huffed.

''And I can't believe Slughorn omitted such an important topic!'' Hermione said.

''Yeah, well, maybe that's a reason why McGonagall was so eager to let him return to his retirement,'' Ginny mused.

''Your mum said he had been a good teacher,'' Harry recalled.

''It must have been ages ago,'' Ron snorted. ''Though, I wish Slughorn returned. He's more easy-going, he was giving out cool prizes. Snape's all about punishment. What is it, Hermione?'' he looked at his girlfriend, whose mind was quite clearly occupied with something else than the ongoing conversation.

Hermione fixed her grip on her books. ''Do you think McGonagall is going to hand out our tests?''

''Don't you have anything better to talk about?'' Ginny sighed.

''Snape didn't. I don't see why McGonagall would,'' Harry said simply.

On Wednesday the trio went to see Hagrid. The crunch time didn't leave much occassions to see their friends, especially considering they had spent their free time on meeting with Neville. Harry hoped Hagrid wasn't hurt they had chosen to see their former classmate. The half-giant's feelings sometimes tended to be easy to wound.

When they knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut, it appeared that its owner wasn't there. Even Fang wasn't anywhere near – if he were inside, they would have heard his excited woofing.

The students went to see if the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was present in his garden. It didn't come as surprise that Hagrid wasn't there as well. Most likely he would have noticed he had visitors if he were in such close proximity to his hut.

''I guess we will have to postpone our visit,'' Ron said sourly.

''Not necessarily,'' Hermione smirked. ''Look!'' she pointed at the nearby trees, which marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry narrowed his eyes to get a better focus. Indeed, two silhouettes were standing behind the trees, one of them much taller – and in general greater – than the other, more slender one.

Without much thinking the trio marched towards the Forbidden Forest's borders.

''Oh, no, not him! What is he even doing here?'' Ron groaned as they were close enough to see the person talking to Hagrid was Snape.

''Probably collecting ingredients,'' Hermione reasoned.

''In February?'' Ron asked dubiously.

''Well, I guess it's too late to turn back now,'' Harry said flatly as Hagrid waved at them.

''Harry! Ron! Hermione!'' the half-giant greeted them loud enough to be heard from the distance that was still separating them, encouraging the teenagers who stopped in their tracks to walk closer.

''Yeah, I guess you are right,'' Ron said not too enthusiastically.

However, as soon as they arrived at the edge of the forest, Snape had quite a different greeting prepared for them. ''Students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest without a permission. That is why it is called the 'Forbidden Forest','' he spoke the last sentence slowly, like he was talking to bunch of half-wits.

''Give 'em a rest, Professor. They're with me!'' Hagrid said proudly.

''As you wish, Hagrid,'' Snape said stiffly. ''I won't keep you any longer,'' he turned towards the garden.

A loud screech followed a bird-like shadow. All five people raised their heads to see a magnificent hippogriff lowering its flight, looking for a spot to land. Harry noticed the Potion's Master face grow slightly paler, but the man remained composed if not pretending to be disinterested.

''Look who came ter greet yeh!'' Hagrid smiled at the sight of the beast so familiar to the trio.

Buckbeak landed, knocking down snow from the branches of nearby trees. Contrary to what Hagrid had just said, he wasn't too interested in the students. Instead, he turned his vengeful glare at the former spy.

Snape stood expectantly with his legs slightly bent, apparently ready to repeat his record-breaking run, yet he maintained eye contact with the beast, not blinking even for a fraction of second.

''Beaky, no!'' Hagrid waved his hands in front of the hippogriff as the beast screeched again. ''Erm... That is, I wanted ter say, Witherwings.''

Hermione nervously dug her fingers into Ron's coat.

''We all know that is one and the same hippogriff,'' Snape hissed impatiently, bowing slightly while still looking Buckbeak right into eyes.

''Beaky, professor Snape's a friend!'' Hagrid said quickly as the hippogriff moved his head.

As if to confirm Hagrid's statement, Snape deepened his bow. Which definitely wasn't a beneficial posture if the hippogriff decided to chase him again.

Buckbeak tilted his head right and blinked, seemingly assessing if the man in black robes was sincere.

Hagrid kept waving his hands in a calming manner. '''S fine, Beaky, 's fine. Professor Snape was workin' fer Dumbledore. McGonagall trusts him. He's a friend.''

The hippogriff snapped his beak and tilted his head left as if to get a better angle. Harry could almost see the conflict in the beast's eyes. He had a thought to take a step forward and speak to Buckbeak, but the second thought reminded him hippogriffs didn't take interruptions easily.

Then the hippogriff turned his attention to Harry at last and the boy's first instinct was to bow politely. However, it seemed that it wasn't what the beast had expected of Harry – the boy could feel hippogriff's questioning gaze on him. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Harry nodded, hoping the message was received.

The hippogriff turned his head to face Severus Snape once more and with some hesitation, bowed back.

''I hope it means that matter is settled between us?'' Snape asked once he straightened up.

''Sure it is!'' Hagrid's booming laughter startled some small, rabbit-like forest creature. ''Give good ol' Beaky a pat, professor!''

''I don't think the hippogriff wants to be petted,'' Snape said drily.

''Oh, well,'' Hagrid wiped his hands against his coat awkwardly. ''Maybe next time.''

''I will see you in the castle,'' Snape said stiffly, fixed the bag hanging on his shoulder and left.

''Good Beaky. Got somethin' fer yeh!'' the gamekeeper showed the hippogriff a ferret carcass and threw it at the animal. Buckbeak cought the poor dead ferret and swallowed it whole. ''Smart Beaky,'' Hagrid pat hippogriff's beak. ''But yeh didn't have teh yell at professor!'' he rebuked the beast. ''Well,'' he clapped his hands. ''We should go. Yer gonna freeze!''

''What was even Snape doing here?'' Ron couldn't stop himself from asking on their way to Hagrid's hut.

''Professor Snape, Ron,'' Hagrid corrected him, much to red-head's annoyance. ''He was picking some ingredients, fer his potions, yeh see.''

''Ha! Told you,'' Hermione shoved Ron playfully.

''Oh, yeah, because there are so many herbs and insects to collect in February,'' Ron crossed his arms, currently defending his initial question rather for the principle than for his unwavering opinion on the matter.

''Primhoolas are bloomin' early this year, would yeh believe that?'' Hagrid chuckled jovially.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He had no idea what primhoolas were – probably another wixen plant known to every child in the wizarding world Harry had never heard of – and had no will to ask about them. If they were used as a potion ingredient, Snape probably was going to make him find out soon, anyway,

''Don't they bloom like by the end of February? The month's just started,'' Ron pointed out with disbelief.

''Spring's gonna come early this year,'' Hagrid reasoned.

''Can't see it coming, frankly,'' Ron rubbed his forearms to make a point.

''And where's Fang?'' Harry asked to change the subject to something he was more familiar with.

''Oh, he must be runnin' somewhere near. Fang!'' Hagrid called the dog and whistled.

''In Forbidden Forest?'' Hermione asked.

''Fang? What yeh, Hermione! Fang would never! He's too scared ter go there alone,'' Hagrid smiled cheerfully.

''You're in a very good mood today,'' Ron concluded, looking at the half-giant's smile.

''Ah, yes. 's a good day – the Sun shines, the snow on the ground. Had a good talk with Grawp. Soon it's gonna be the time fer the gardening stuff. Gonna tell yeh somethin', but it's a secret, alright?'' Hagrid lowered his voice. ''I'm gonna have the largest spinach this year. As big as a giant cabbage!'' he said as they were passing by his garden.

---

''I must say I am not too pleased with the performance of some of my students,'' O'Cathail said haughtily. ''I cannot say I am surprised with Slytherins' overall results, but I expected better from my Gryffindors.''

''Is she offending us or Slytherins?'' Ron whispered uncertainly.

''Both, I guess,'' Harry said unhappily.

''I wonder what got into her. It surely can't be that bad, can it?'' Ron mused, while Hermione was shaking anxiously.

The head of Gryffindor shot them a disapproving glance but refrained from making further comments about their disobedience. Instead, she waved her wand and their semestral tests landed on their desks.

''Oh, man, I really hoped it would take her longer to check them,'' Ron sighed.

Harry reluctantly looked down at the grade on his test, which read 'E--'. O'Cathail must have been truly repulsed by the thought of grading Harry with an 'A'. Which was even more humiliating than receiving an actual 'A' would have been. Harry huffed irritated and turned the sheet of paper upside down to hide the grade.

To avoid thinking about the fiasco of the test, Harry shifted his attention to the portraits on the walls of the classroom. Unlike the time of Snape's reign over the DADA classroom, it was decorated with the portraits of various Aurors, instead of gruesome pictures of victims of curses. Harry didn't even want to think how the Carrows had decorated the classroom.

One of the portraits depicted Alastor Moody with his mad eye scrutinising the students. However, the lack of Tonks' picture renewed Harry's disappointment every time he entered the classroom. Gryffindor supposed the pictures represented Aurors that O'Cathail held in high esteem, and he wouldn't be surprised if the gallery featured portraits of O'Cathail's parents.

''Potter, in normal circumstances, I would have expected a better result, but considering your prolonged absence, I believe five points for Gryffindor are in order, for Ms. Granger's help,'' the DADA teacher said, most likely noticing Harry's efforts at not paying attention to his test.

Hermione sighed relieved at the sight of her report. ''I thought it would be much worse.''

Ron peeked over her shoulder. ''That's because it was a theoretical test.''

''What do you mean by that?!'' Hermione snapped at him.

''Nothing,'' Ron said placatingly. ''Just wanted to point out you usually do better with written exams than at practical tests in DADA.''

''Oh, you are just jealous!'' Hermione turned her back on her boyfriend.

''She's not gonna talk to me today, is she?'' Ron muttered dissatisfied.

''Yep. Good job, Ron,'' Ginny said.

---

Harry let his feet carry him to the Potions classroom. The extra Potions truly felt like a waste of time, but it was too late to call them off without putting himself in the danger of finding himself at the receiving end of Snape's anger.

''Since you have apparently mastered the Golpalott's laws, if it may be called that way, we can move onto Seamange's Stirring Law, which describes the relation between the structure of ingredients and the stirring pattern,'' Snape did not beat around the bush with the pleasantries of greetings.

Harry put his bag on the desk more forcefully than necessarry. ''Oh, great, another law you can ask me about in front of the entire classroom,'' he crossed his arms.

''Don't be childish, Potter,'' Snape said coldly.

Harry clenched his fists. Snape had no right to tell him his anger wasn't justified. ''We haven't even covered the other Golpalott's laws during normal Potions and yet you asked me! I didn't think the extra Potions meant harder tasks during normal Potions! It's unfair!''

''I dedicate you more of my attention, you brat, therefore I demand more of you,'' Snape hissed.

''Oh, how wonderful you're telling me this only now. I can't recall you mentioning it earlier, sir!'' Harry spat.

''Potter, I insist you calm down,'' Snape's voice was icy.

''Or what?! You had no right! It was humiliating!'' Harry roared.

Snape crossed his arms and sceptically raised an eyebrow. ''I cannot see how answering correctly was humiliating, Potter. If anything it might have actually changed your peers' opinion about your Potions expertise for the better.''

''Of course you can't! Making fun of me is second nature to you, aint' it, sir?! Why you always ask me in front of the entire classroom about things I have no way of knowing?''

''Potter, I suggest you think twice before you speak,'' Snape remained eerily composed. ''Ten points from Gryffindor.''

Harry, however, was not going to let the man win. He wanted a quarrel, he wanted the man to yell back at him. ''Why don't you take away all the points, while you are at it?''

''A tempting proposition. I'm sure your fellow Gryffindors would appreciate it,'' Snape said flatly.

''And why are we even talking about all these laws? They are rubbish! There are more exceptions to them than ways to use. It's a fraud!''

''Do you need to remind you how you managed to make the Draught of Peace explode? Or do you need to see how poorly you have done on your semestral test, Potter?'' Snape spoke more harshly this time.

Oh, so Snape has actually checked the tests. Splendid, Harry sighed internally, thinking about the upcoming Monday.

''Well, maybe you can't teach, sir!'' Harry said instead, staring the Potions Master right into his eyes, that narrowed threateningly.

Snape inhaled sharply through his large nose and it seemed he was actually going to go for the option Harry had recklessly suggested a moment ago. The boy wondered if the teacher was thinking in this very moment about the failure that Occlumency lessons had been.

''So, out of sudden you want to brew a potion that badly, Potter? Fine, let's have it your way,'' Snape sneered. ''Brew me the Draught of Living Death.''

''Why are you so obssessed with that potion?!'' Harry threw up his hands in the air, the memory of the very first Potions lesson with Snape brought to the front of his mind.

''Potter, I warn you, you are stepping on a thin ice,'' Snape hissed and turned around making his robes billow dramatically as he headed for the seat at the teacher's desk.

Harry huffed under his breath and grabbed a cauldron from the backroom. He should have probably considered himself lucky the argument hadn't escalated further. Which didn't mean he did.

***

Severus was questioning why he even bothered trying to teach the brat anything. Potter had proven himself uncooperative at every possible turn. Naturally, the brat had to start a fight over a tiniest inconvenience. Two years ago, hell, maybe even a mere year ago Severus would have had fallen for the bait and let himself be dragged into it, but now he just shot the brat who was throwing a tantrum an unamused glance. Maybe he was simply getting old.

Having decided the best way to prove a point to the stubborn Gryffindor was to let him fail spectacularly once more, he sat behind his desk and returned to reviewing semestral tests. It was clear as day that no words would break through that thick skull of the saviour of the wizardkind, so maybe Potter's own mistakes would.

The classroom was unusually silent, the only sounds accompanying the two wizards were the scrape of Snape's quill against parchment, hiss of fire under the cauldron and the sound of brew being stirred. From time to time Severus cast a glance in Potter's direction, making sure the boy didn't set the classroom on fire.

One of those glances Potter's actions drew Severus' attention. He put some student's test aside and quietly stood up, not to disturb the Gryffindor. Severus furrowed his eyebrows, not expecting to see the boy to stirring clockwise after the seventh counterclockwise stir. Severus' amazement did not end there – judging from the stains on the wooden desk the beans had been crushed instead of cut. The boy hadn't even bothered opening up Advanced Potions-Making. For a good few seconds Severus stared at the boy as if he had grown a second head. Frankly, had Potter grown another one, Severus would have been less surprised.

Severus chuckled inwardly, the only sign of his amusement was a slight curl of his lips. It couldn't be – out of almost six years that Severus has spent teaching the brat Potions, the boy has only learnt about the use of bezoar and the alternative way of brewing the Draught of Living Death. Both of which he had learnt when Severus hadn't acted as the Potions Master, from Severus' own book, moreover. Well, it was true what they said – forbidden fruit is the sweetest. Sweet enough to make Potter learn a thing or two. Severus wasn't exactly sure if he could utilise that discovery to lure the boy into putting more effort into his studies – whatever knowledge that he would offer the boy right now would most likely miss that alluring aura.

''Potter, this is not Borage's recipe,'' Severus said matter-of-factly, startling the boy.

Potter looked up with his green eyes like hers, exactly like hers, and then looked down embarrassed. His face at first turned pale only to gain a red tint. ''No, it's yours,'' he said meekly.

''I can see that,'' Severus said without malice in his voice, having found the absurdity of the ordeal more entertaining than he should probably have.

''I told you, you could write a book, Professor,'' Potter still didn't dare to look up. Instead the boy nervously scratched the back of his hand, making Severus worry if that awful toad's twisted punishment somehow found its way back to boy's hand. Thankfully, upon closer look it did not appear to be a case.

''Maybe after all I can teach, Potter,'' Severus shook his head, still uncharacteristically amused. His unexpectedly good mood took him by surprise.

''Yeaaah, sorry about that, sir,'' Potter said insecurily, his sight was still glued to the wooden desk. ''And sorry about the book... I kinda lost... well, it was lost in the fire in the room of requirement,'' this time the boy scratched the back of his neck.

Severus didn't feel saddened by the loss of the old book. ''That's probably for the better. It should have never got into your hands, Potter. Or anyone's else for that matter.'' Yes, Severus should have burnt the book. Yet he had not and maybe the universe had its ways of providing The-Boy-Who-Lived with a hand-me-down from a relative the boy had no idea he had (and vice versa). That thought was ludicrous... but so would have been the notion of Potter's true lineage not even a year ago.

''It was useful, though,'' Potter shrugged.

''Yes, I can imagine,'' Severus said a bit drily, thinking about the Sectumsempra accident with Draco. ''May I inquire how you came into the possession of the book?''

''Professor Slughorn lent it to me. I thought I didn't qualify for N.E.W.T.-level Potions, so I didn't buy my own copy,'' Potter bit his bottom lip, clearly uncomfortable with talking about the matter. Severus had a feeling it wasn't the story in its entirety, knowing that the boy most likely had purchased the newest copy at later date, but didn't press further.

Severus glanced at the content of the cauldron once more. The potion had the right colour for this stage of brewing. Whether he liked it or not, Severus got a dose of his own medicine – the boy had actually proven himself capable of brewing even difficult potions, even though Severus still had hard time believing that. ''Alright, Potter. You managed to convince me to cover with you the practical side of Potions during our extra classes.''

''Wait, really?!'' brat's green eyes turned at Severus.

''Yes, but just dare to set anything on fire – Seamange will be waiting for you,'' Severus crossed his arms.

Chapter Text

Severus was pleasantly surprised how this week's extra Potions lesson had turned out in the end, mentally patting himself on the back for not falling into Potter's trap. Which would have been the most natural thing – something within the boy made arguing with him such an easy task. And it was clear there were times the boy desperately wanted other people to get into a verbal fight with him.

However, the fact the boy had memorised so many of Severus' inventions from his teenage years, made the teacher unreasonably restless. Never would he have thought Potter actually being able to successfully brew a potion would affect him so. And yet the thought irrationally warmed up something inside Severus' chest. Something he refused to give a name to.

The former spy grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose and put the stack of tests aside. What he really needed to do right now was to clear his head, not to think about Potter.

It was already past curfew and Severus relished the empty, delightfully devoid of brats dimly lit corridors. Nevertheless, out of teacher's habit, a portion of his attention was still dedicated to picking up any signs of students' activity. A sight of a shadow moving past the walls woke him from his musings. He didn't have to wait for the shadow to be followed by its owner.

''You are lucky you are not a student, Snape,'' O'Cathail greeted him.

''Likewise, O'Cathail,'' Severus nodded courteously.

''Well, this is not your turn at patrolling the castle. May I ask what might you be doing out of your quaters at such a late hour?'' elderly witch's grey eyes were boring into him as if she was trying to read something from his face.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''I decided to take a break from marking semestral tests,'' he answered simply. ''Speaking of which, how are you finding your first semester as a teacher?''

O'Cathail snorted. ''I think you are forgetting you are not a headmaster anymore,'' she pointed out harshly. Even though the woman could get on his nerves, Severus appreciated the directness in showing her dislike for him.

''I am not forgetting anything, O'Cathail. I just asked my new colleague how was she doing,'' Severus' stroll matched the DADA teacher's pace.

''Teaching is a piece of cake compared to the job of an Auror,'' O'Cathail said with an aura of superiority. ''I'll have you know I returned the tests to our seventh-years this Thursday.''

''I congratulate you on your novice enthusiasm,'' Severus said drily. ''How would you grade DADA expertise of our dear Mr. Potter?''

O'Cathail only shot Severus a side glance. ''I know your opinion on Potter's overall performance. Frankly, I think he did remarkably well considering his stay in the Hospital Wing and then in St. Mungo's. And while you might be right he is not the most skilled in written assignments, no one in their right mind would question his mastery in the practical side.'' Severus snorted disapprovingly, making no effort in hiding what he thought about that statement, but O'Cathail went on. ''And while we are talking about Potter, I don't see why you keep inquiring me about a student who is not a Slytherin.''

''You should consider yourself lucky you will not be able to see Potter in his entire The-Boy-Who-Lived glory. Had you spent seven years of your life trying to protect a brat who does everything in his power to get himself killed, you too would keep asking about him,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

''The war is over, Snape,'' O'Cathail reminded.

''Yes, thankfully it is, but do not act as if you hadn't mentioned Potter's mishap with the curse. I had to deal with this kind of merry adventures for years, even before Dark Lord's return,'' Severus huffed. He was becoming too careless – O'Cathail was right he should have no reason to ask about the boy. And the woman, being a retired Auror, was awfully perceptive. Frankly, Severus wouldn't put it past her to investigate what didn't require investigation.

''And how are Potter's Potions? I've heard about the extra classes from Minerva.''

''As the head of Gryffindor you will be pleased to hear Potter shows chances of making some progress. It only took him seven years, but I am hardly surprised – James Potter was no potioneer and the boy takes a lot from his father,'' Severus sneered, putting an old mask of contempt that fit like a glove.

''Maybe the boy will get a chance at becoming an Auror, after all,'' O'Cathail smirked smugly and Severus couldn't resist a feeling the DADA teacher was looking forward to Potter joining Aurors ranks.

On Monday Severus gave away the semestral test to the seventh-year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. The annoyance on brats' faces was something that was worth awaiting. Persephone Brownleek crossed her arms and nonchalantly rested her back against the chair, showing her indifference to her results, while another one of his Slytherins, Titus Avery, was muttering in panic that his mother was going to kill him. Ronald Weasley was most likely convinced Severus would not hear him whisper angrily how Potions were a waste of time, while his sister opted for a single heavy sigh. Hermione Granger was seemingly on the verge of mental breakdown (the girl's ambition was going to kill her one day, Severus was sure of that). Harry Potter shot his teacher a fiery glare, probably a foretaste of another yelling fit that was about to come next Friday.

Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff seventh-years reaction to their tests wasn't much more enthusiastic. Severus not for the first time cursed Horace – if not for his low standards, Severus' N.E.W.T.-level classes would not have been this crowded and headache-inducing.

The majority of problems with older students stemmed from their hormones and the way they liked to display their lack of respect. Younger students even if didn't have much respect for Severus or his subject usually were too scared to voice their thoughts and objections aloud. Of course, Severus had been there, like every young wizard, but he would have found it a little more tolerable if the brats exercised their teenage bravado in a more intelligent way.

On the other hand, N.E.W.T.-level classes were much more intellectually entertaining, especially if he had the right participants. Severus had called a first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin, brain-numbing lesson about the Forgetfullness Potion a day and started packing his own belongings, but a sight of a Slytherin girl slowly putting her book into a bag like she was trying to do everything in her power not to pack her bag up alarmed him.

''Sigwyn, are you not heading for the Great Hall for the lunch?'' Severus raised an eyebrow.

Fear passed through girl's eyes. ''Uhm, yes, professor Snape.''

''Or is there a matter you wish to discuss?'' Severus asked carefully.

The girl gasped and paled. ''No... I'm just leaving, professor.''

Severus was way too experienced teacher not to notice something was bothering young Slytherin. ''Come, sit down, leave your bag,'' he offered the girl a chair. Upon meeting her frightened and slightly confused expression, he went on. ''Don't worry, it should not take us long. You will get for lunch on time.''

Elleanor Sigwyn reluctantly took the seat, but remained silent.

''As the head of Slytherin it is my duty to ensure my wards well-being. You can tell me anything that is worrying you.'' Merlin give him strength, he was not good at this kind of conversations. ''Is it about your parents?'' He cautiously tested the waters, having heard of girl's parents having been accused of allying themselves with Death Eaters and arrested for that reason.

The girl shook her head.

''You can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to hear about it. You stayed because you wanted to talk,'' Severus pointed out the obvious.

''I didn't, sir,'' Elleanor Sigwyn protested with her childish stubbornness, probably thinking the Potions Master was not going to see through this pitiful attempt at deceit. The young snake had still a lot to learn in this regard.

''Is it about other students? Were they mean to you?''

''No... I-I really need to go for lunch, sir,'' the girl stuttered, giving away Severus hit the bullseye.

''Who was it?'' An inner call might have not pushed Severus to become a teacher and he tried to make it clear with every passing lesson, but he would not tolerate any of his Slytherins suffering from bullying. His own experience was the best testament what it could do to a person.

''No-No one, professor, I told you,'' the girl shrugged.

''Sigwyn, if it happened to you, it could have happened to your friends as well. By disclosing that person's identity you are protecting yourself and your friends. I will do everything in my power to ensure you will be met with no backslash,'' Severus assured.

''I don't know, sir!'' the girl burst into tears. ''Some-some boy,'' she sniffed. ''Older... I don't know his name. He said I should've been locked in Azkaban with my parents. He-he said there's no place for people like me in Hogwarts,'' tears were running down girl's cheeks as she sniffed loudly again.

Severus turned around and reached for a box hidden in a drawer of his desk. ''Help yourself,'' he offered the girl a tissue sticking out of the box.

Elleanor insecurily raised her eyes to meet the teacher's gaze and silently accepted the offer, blowing her nose into a tissue.

''He pulled my hair and-and wouldn't stop,'' the girl gasped between sobs.

In the Great Hall Severus studied carefully the Gryffindor's table. Sigwyn had not been able to describe how her perpetrator had looked, except for looking rather dull with mousy hair and wearing a Gryffindor robe. The description fitted Dennis Creevey and knowing brat's achievements in this regard thus far, Severus was ready to place his bet on him. He would not have been surprised either if it were Eusebius Purflor, who had already assaulted young Slytherins a few times this year, if not for the fact the boy had darker hair.

His sight slid past Potter who was busy talking with his friends and laughing. Deep down inside Severus was glad the boy didn't look at him. He had no will to look into his green eyes in this very moment and be met with with Lily's accusation shining in Potter's eyes. A hypocrite, that's what she would have called him and maybe she would have been right. The Potions Master grimaced expelling the thought and looked down at his plate.

Cutting down his roast, Severus glanced at O'Cathail. He wasn't exactly sure if the current head of Gryffindor was going to act in any meaningful way, especially considering many of Slytherin students' parents indeed were Death Eaters.

''Minerva, I would like to speak to you after the lunch if you are amenable?'' he addressed his superior.

''Why, of course, Severus. What is it, may I ask?'' Minerva asked earnestly, most likely noticing the decisiveness in his voice.

''For now, let's just say it concerns the tensions among the students. But I hardly think the Great Hall is the right place to discuss this issue,'' Severus looked at Hagrid who knocked over a tea jug on poor Filius, much to students' entertainment. The Ravenclaw kept assuring the embarrassed half-giant that stains on his robes were not a problem at all.

After the lunch Severus followed the Headmistress to her office.

''The animosity between houses is getting out of hand, Minerva.''

''You've never been the one to beat around the bush,'' the woman pointed out, edges of her lips slightly curling up at his forwardness. ''Who got in a fight this time?''

''That's the part of the problem. We've learnt to accept the enmity as a fact of life. Frankly, I am tired of chasing the brats to catch them red-handed,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''One of your Gryffindors assaulted a first-year Slytherin. I suspect it was the younger Creevey – if you check with Argus, you will find Creevey's records have become rather voluminous in this department. That being said, this is not solely a Gryffindor problem, even though your cubs' pre-eminence is evident. Only last month a Ravenclaw student joined Creevey in bullying another first-year Slytherin.''

''To be precise, I am not a head of Gryffindor anymore, Severus,'' Minerva reminded.

The Potions Master snorted. ''Naturally, Headmistress. Which does not change the fact everyone still views you as one.''

''Well,'' Minerva sighed. ''They'll get used to changes. Back to the matter at hand, why won't you assign them detention?''

''Please, you know me well enough to assess how many hours Creevey already has spent in detention. I would not have come to you if detentions were effective.''

''What do you expect me to do then? I can't expell Creevey on the grounds of bullying other students,'' the Headmistress raised an eyebrow to make an emphasis.

Some part of Severus wanted to ask 'Why the hell not?', but he knew it would be a pointless question. ''Then persuade other heads of houses to act more strictly to such occurences. Maybe they will come across more motivating punishments than scraping cauldrons, tidying up Argus' precious collection of write-ups and polishing silvers,'' Severus straightened his back.

''As if you couldn't come up with other detention activities,'' Minerva said tiredly.

''Even the most harsh punishment imposed by me wouldn't as effective as a punishment imposed by a head of perpetrator's house. You are as well aware as I am that the main issue with my detentions is that the students, even though they fear me, do not respect me as they respect heads of their houses,'' Severus turned his head towards the bookshelf, grimacing at his superior's apparent unwillingness to tackle the problem at hand. ''Especially considering my former allegiance, I fear some may treat my detentions as a badge of honour,'' the Potions Master absent-mindedly reached to squeeze his forearm around his Dark Mark.

''Don't be absurd, Severus! You were acquitted. By all means, you are a war hero,'' the witch spoke firmly.

Severus scoffed. It was clear as day not everyone shared Minerva's sentiment. Hell, even Severus did not consider himself a hero. What kind of hero joined a cult that targeted the person he loved? What kind of hero gave away intelligence that led to death of the person they cared about?

''I think Severus might be right, Minerva,'' the portrait of Dumbledore spoke gently yet decisively. ''Something should be done about the unfair treatment of young Slytherin students.''

If looks could kill, and if paintings could die, the portrait would drop dead right now. ''You are the one to talk. The person you represent had never done anything to mitigate the animosity between houses,'' Severus bared his yellow crooked teeth in contempt.

''I am aware I had not done enough and I regret it deeply,'' the portrait of late headmaster said solemnly.

''You are merely a painting, you cannot regret anything!'' Severus barked, narrowing his eyes at the painting.

''Severus...,'' Minerva sighed and glanced conflicted at the portrait of her late superior. ''Albus, I think it would be advisable for you to refrain from attending this conversation.''

''I, for one, have to agree with Dumbledore. I will not stand for prejudice against Slytherin,'' said Phineas Nigellus Black.

''It's not that I disagree with Severus. I am trying to think of measure that would effectively deter students from bullying their peers,'' the Headmistress said calmly. ''Let's get this done this way: I will call a heads of houses' meeting on Saturday, where we will discuss the matter. Meanwhile I am going to ponder on the solution.''

Severus nodded politely. ''I would appreciate it, Minerva.''

---

The week was reaching its conclusion quickly. Severus was not even sure there the week had gone when the (in)famous Harry Potter crossed the threshold of the Potions classroom on Friday afternoon.

''I think, Potter, you cannot any longer reasonably deny you have a lot of Potions material to cover, should you wish to become an Auror,'' Severus greeted the brat referring to his semestral test. Potter's only response was his jaw tightening. ''Today you are going to revise Amortentia. You do remember the usage of the potion, I suppose?''

''It's a love potion, sir,'' the boy said reluctantly.

''Correct, Potter, Amortentia is a love potion. It might come as a surprise to you, but there are plenty of love potions,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''What makes it so special?''

''Uh,'' Potter drawled, clearly embarrassed by the subject. ''It makes you smell what you love even if you don't drink it.''

''It smells differently to every person, fooling everyone to think they smell what attracts them, to be precise. Digestion, howsoever inadvisable, has nothing to do with that specific property of Amortentia,'' Severus corrected disapprovingy. He chose to pretend not to have heard the brat mutter 'That's what I said.'

''Moreover, Amortentia is the strongest love potion known to the wizardkind. Since the potion appears to be vivid in your memory, we shall not waste any time. Get your cauldron and get to brewing,'' the Potions Master instructed.

With a heavy sigh, Potter grabbed a gold-coloured cauldron and then send Severus a slightly disoriented look.

''Yes, Potter, it is advisable you open up your book,'' Severus said maybe a bit too sardonically, but he coudn't help himself – the brat begged for a backslash with his audacity.

Potter made another displeased face, which was most likely supposed to communicate the depths of his misery, but refrained from commenting this time. He opened up his book and put his finger on the ingredients list.

Severus stood several meters away from the boy, observing him as he walked to the cabinet to retrieve the required elements. Pearl dust, powdered moonstone, rose petals and thorns, ashwinder eggs and nutmeg. Severus narrowed his eyes – maybe there was something he could teach the brat, after all.

''Potter, do you perhaps have dark chocolate with you today?'' the older wizard asked smoothly.

Gryffindor sent his teacher a suspicious glance. ''No, professor, why?''

''Shame. Replacing nutmeg with dark chocolate, as long as it is grated, diminishes side-effects of Amortentia,'' Severus said matter-of-factly. ''Some potioneers were successful in replacing nutmeg with thyme, but the overall results are inconclusive. There was even an instance of a bat brain being utilised in the place of nutmeg.''

''Ohhh, alright,'' Potter spoke warily, looking at his teacher. ''I'll be sure to remember that,'' he added absent-mindedly moving jars in the cabinet from side to side. Severus was sure the boy would not remember anything from what Severus had just said if he asked him during next Potions.

Once the boy decided he had all the ingredients, he returned to his desk and lit the fire under his cauldron. First he poured a cup of water and when it warmed up a bit, he glanced at his textbook and reached for the rose petals. He put a handful of petals into a mortar and started grinding them.

''A drop of melaleuca oil helps soften the petals and slightly increases the duration of the potion,'' Severus said deliberately.

''The book doesn't mention that, sir,'' Potter pointed out the obvious.

''I know, Potter,'' Severus said flatly.

''Your book didn't mention that one, either,'' the boy said cautiously.

''Yes, this is one of my later discoveries,'' Severus expectantly raised an eyebrow.

''Hmpf,'' Gryffindor, biting the inside of his cheek, glanced at his teacher and then at the cauldron. He left his desk and headed for the cabinet once more. ''A what?'' he asked.

''Sir,'' Severus reminded coldly.

The brat rolled his eyes. ''A what, sir?''

Severus internally sighed. Trying to teach the boy some manners was a lost case. ''Melaleuca oil. You may heard of it under the name of tea tree oil.''

Having acquired a bottle of tea tree oil, the student returned to his desk. He let a drop of the oil fall into the mortar and resumed grinding. Later he added the petals into the cauldron, cleaned the mortar and began grinding the thorns.

After few moments of relative silence, only disturbed by the hiss of fire and the sound of stirring, Potter suddenly opened up his mouth to speak.

''Slughorn said my mum had been good at Potions,'' he spoke out of nowhere.

Severus wondered what prompted the boy to word this statement – it hardly could be called a question, after all. Did he know that the smell of the potion he was brewing once it was ready was going to make Severus think of Lily? Of dirty grass on the banks of Cokeworth's river, old books and, most importantly, of the subtle smell of lilies?

''Sorry,'' Gryffindor muttered quietly, embarrassed he brought up such a sensitive subject.

Severus jaw went rigid. It was clear the brat had never got a chance to talk about Lily, having been acquaintanced only with Potter's friends. From what Severus had gathered, the majority of Lily's friends from her school times were dead or mentally incapacitated. He had no idea if she made any new friends after they had fallen out, leaving Severus the only person to carry on Lily's memory, of who she truly had been. He was not ready to talk with the brat about the woman he loved and that he led to an untimely demise, or with anyone else, truthfully. Yet he owed that to Lily and so much more. It was his fault her son had never got a chance to get to know her. That she had never got a chance to see her son grow up. And so Severus swallowed his pride.

''Your mother wasn't 'good' at Potions. She was exceptional,'' the Potions Master said, having student's full attention now. ''Something you clearly haven't inherited from her,'' he deadpanned.

''Yes, well...'' the boy looked away and shrugged insecurily.

Severus inhaled slowly, being fully aware he was going to regret the offer later. ''Should you have any questions concerning your mother, feel free to ask. Today or during extra Potions to come. By all means refrain from asking during standard Potions,'' he added seeing boy's confused and disbelieving expression. ''I will try to answer your questions to the best of my knowledge. Just bear in mind I do not know much about your mother's life following...'' he hesitated, feeling his heart beating faster. ''The argument. Our paths have parted and people at such a young age can change substantially in the short span of few years.'' Even though it was what Severus remembered, he knew it wasn't the truth in its entirety and the proof was standing right in front of him, looking at him with her green eyes like an accusation.

Potter nodded awkwardly and muttered a thanks. Then he focused once more on the cauldron.

Severus expected the boy to flood him with questions, but instead he was stirring in silence with his face conflicted. Splendid, it would seem to burden of starting the conversation was on his shoulders.

''The idea to crush the Sopophorous Bean while brewing the Draught of Living Death was actually inspired by your mother's suggestion,'' Severus recalled.

Potter furrowed his eyebrows. ''Really?'' he asked with voice filled with marvel.

''Yes. Your mother and I would spend hours in the library discussing potions and exchanging our ideas. I would like to believe my own suggestions have led to some of your mother's brilliant ideas as well,'' edges of teacher's lips curled slightly up at the fond memory.

''Like what?'' the boy's eyes were shining like he was gifted a star.

''Your mother was a master at the Wit-Sharpening Potion, for instance. I struggled to make my potion reach her potion's quality. After the lesson she thanked me. I did not know why, so she told me she had also shredded the ginger root after having cut it, which had been my idea for preperation of Sneezewort for the Confusing Concoction. Your mother smartly deducted that what worked for one potion, could also work for the potion that had the opposide effect.''

''You've never told us to shred ginger root,'' Potter reminded not too happily and added after a second added. ''Or Sneezewort. Sir.''

Severus crossed his arms. The brat loved arguing, didn't he? ''How lucky you are then to finally have found out this secret of the subtle art of potion-making, Potter,'' he said flatly.

Chapter Text

Hagrid had not been wrong about spring coming early – daffodils started blooming mid-February, soon to be followed by other flowers. Snow was already forgotten, spring mud taking its place. Harry wouldn't say this particular aspect of early spring was a change for the better as the edge of his robes were perpetually dirty.

While for Hermione March accelerated her exams anxiety, for Harry, Ron and Ginny one thing chased away the thoughts of slowly incoming N.E.W.T.s – the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

''It's a real shame, mate, you can't play with us. The bat knows we would easily win if we had you on team,'' Ron grumbled.

Hermione, sitting on the couch in Gryffindor's common room next to her boyfriend, glanced from over Herbology book. ''Snape didn't make Harry attend extra Potions. He volunteered.''

Ron snorted. ''Yeah, much of volunteering when he'd assigned detention every week. He'd do it again if Harry hadn't 'volunteered','' the red-haired boy mimicked quotation marks with his fingers.

''I wish I could play with you, but I'm sure you're gonna kill it anyway,'' Harry smiled supportively at Ginny.

''Sure we are, mate!'' Ron protested offended Harry dared to suggest things could go wrong for the Gryffindor team.

''You chose what was better for you,'' Ginny patted Harry's knee. Ron didn't seem to agree with the statement as he rolled his eyes.

''Yeah, right. Neville enroled the Auror training without extra classes,'' Ron reminded nastily. ''If Neville was good enough to pass the entrance Potions exam, everyone is. Snape's wasting your time, mate.''

''Are you serious? The extra classes are paying off,'' Hermione cut in. ''I've noticed Harry has been doing better at Potions lately.''

''I wouldn't say that,'' Harry chuckled. Oh, if only Snape heard Hermione he'd do everything in his power to show the entire class how wrong she was.

''The git isn't torturing you more than usually, is he?'' Ron asked faux-worriedly.

''No, it's... it's OK, I guess,'' Harry shrugged noncommitally. If he were honest with his friends, he'd say Snape was actually more tolerable during extra Potions than the regular ones. Especially when they talked about Harry's mum. How else would Harry had learnt that his mum used to joke that if she had more sisters, they would have been called 'Daisy' and 'Rose'? The Evanses had apparently been crazy for floral names. The information that Snape would share with him were inconsequential like that, but at the same time invaluable to Harry. They made him see who his mum had been as a person, not as some kind of saint.

Not that he could say it aloud – Ron would probably have thought Harry has lost his mind or had been hexed or poisoned by their teacher.

''Speaking of gits and Slytherins, do you think other houses also had the talk how we should be nicer to students from other houses?'' Ron grimaced.

''Yeah, Luna mentioned Flitwick had this kind of conversation with them too,'' Ginny said.

''I think it's great the heads of the houses addressed this issue at last,'' Hermione spoke with an air of superiority. ''You've seen how Dennis treats Slytherin students. Besides, it wasn't only about our attitude towards Slytherins.''

''But you've admitted it was mostly about Slytherins,'' Ron argued.

''O'Cathail didn't mention any house,'' Hermione protested.

''She didn't have to. Everyone knew, anyway. Do you think McGonagall made them talk about this stuff? She's gotten surprisingly pro-Slytherin recently,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows. ''I wonder if Snape had this talk with Slytherins too. Probably not. I can't imagine him telling Slytherins to treat others fairly.''

''McGonagall has been asking us to cooperate with other houses since the very beginning of the school year, Ron. And the Sorting Hat had been warning us against the rift for years,'' Hermione tiredly pointed out.

''Ugh, I just hate it that Slytherins receive extra treatment, while they should be held responsible for the war,'' Ron scoffed.

''Who should be held responsible? Those first-years that Dennis and Eusebius are making fun of?'' Hermione angrily narrowed her eyes.

''Are we gonna see you in the seats this Saturday?'' Ginny playfully nudged Harry, changing the subject as the atmosphere in the common room was getting unpleasant.

''Of course! Even a detention wouldn't stop me from attending,'' the boy in glasses smirked mischieviously.

''Hermione?'' Ron fetched for some support from his own girlfriend.

The girl made a face. ''Uh, I don't know... I've got lots of material to study. Alright, fine,'' she said in defeat upon seeing Ron's disappointment.

---

Students were crowding on their way to the stadium, Harry and Hermione being two of them. Luckily, this time weather was kinder as the Sun shone pleasantly.

''Reserve for us some nice spot. I'll catch you later,'' Harry said to Hermione.

''Harry?'' the girl asked.

''It'll take a moment,'' Harry waved and jogged towards the Gryffindor team making final preparations before the match.

''Harry!'' Ginny threw herself at her boyfriend.

''What are you doing here, Harry?'' Ritchie Coote unwelcomingly crossed his arms. ''You're not a part of the team anymore,'' he grimaced.

''Oi, give him a rest!'' Ron shoved Ritchie.

''Stop it!'' Ginny roared at two boys. In those moments it was painfully clear she was her mother's daughter. ''The last thing we need right now is inner conflict. We've got a match to win!''

''You're biased, Ginny. He's your boyfriend,'' Ritchie said harshly.

''He is,'' Ginny said simply. ''It's nice he came to visit, isn't it?'' she raised an eyebrow at Ritchie, while Ron muttered something unhappily.

''Merlin, can't you play your dramas somewhere else?'' Demelza Robins sighed theatrically.

Harry didn't hear what his friend was saying, but as far as he knew Ron it was probably complaining that Hermione had not come. He cleared his throat, hoping it would get rid of that unpleasant sensation in his guts. Maybe he should have told Hermione where he was heading. Ron had his moods when it came to Hermione.

''Right,'' Harry embarrassedly cleared his throat once more. ''I should get going. Good luck, guys. You're gonna kill it!'' he smiled encouragingly.

''Hi, Harry,'' Luna's ever-absent gaze landed on the young wizard, who was working his was through the maze of students already sitting in their spots.

''Watch your feet, Potter!'' hissed a Ravenclaw who dropped his bag of with some kind of snack as Harry was walking past him. Harry chose to ignore him and sat next to Luna, who was sitting next to Hermione.

Blonde girl was loudly munching on a snack. He looked curiously at the bag in her hand, wondering if by accident his friend was chewing stones.

Luna must have interpreted Harry's fascinated gaze as a desire to try the snack as she tilted the bag at Harry. ''Help yourself,'' she offered.

Harry peeked into the bag only to see wrinkled grey stone-like thingies. If they in the fact were pebbles, he wouldn't have been surprised. ''No, thanks,'' he smirked awkwardly.

Luna didn't seem to be offended as she returned to crushing pebble-like snack with her jaw. How the Ravenclaw's teeth survived this, Harry wasn't sure.

''I was starting to wonder if Snape had confined you to more Potions,'' Luna said.

''What? No!'' Harry chuckled. ''It's Saturday. I've got extra Potions on Fridays. And Snape's here too,'' he tilted his head in the Potions Master's direction.

''He could've been using a time-turner,'' Luna stated casually as if it was the most obvious conclusion.

Harry's eyes grew wide in shock. He looked at Hermione trying to think of ways to ask Hermione if she had told Luna about time-turners without speaking a word. Quite needlessly, as at the same time Hermione looked at Harry with surprise in her eyes, slowly shaking her head avoiding making sudden movements.

''Haven't you heard about time-turners?'' Luna looked at her friends curiously, turning her head to left to look at Harry, then to her right to look at Hermione. ''Oh, that's right. My dad says the Ministry is keeping time-turners in secret. They let you travel back in time. Maybe Dumbledore gave Snape one to aid him on his mission,'' she reasoned and Harry actually found her explanation logical.

''Even if such a thing existed, I highly doubt Dumbledore would have risked it getting into hands of Death Eaters,'' Hermione put an emphasis on the first words.

Harry imagined his fellow Gryffindor did not want to admit to having received a time-turner from McGonagall. He understood that – he also didn't feel like talking about their time travel. Leaning forward to get a better look at the brown-haired girl he spotted a book on Hermione's lap. ''Do you really have to?'' he scolded her. That sight would no doubt make Ron feel dejected.

''What?'' Hermione shot him an offended look. ''The match hasn't started yet.''

''It's not like uh...'' he tilted his head and squinted his eyes reading the book's title. ''Runes can't wait.''

''Oh, yeah, Harry, it's not like you're putting a lot of work into your N.E.W.T.s. Some of us don't want to waste their lives,'' Hermione slammed the book loudly. Meanwhile Luna took out her newest issue of the Quibbler.

''Guys, seriously?'' Harry huffed. Why couldn't they take the match seriously? The team needed their support!

''Hermione's got a point. We still have a few minutes before the match starts,'' the blonde said, turning the page. An obnoxious font stating 'Mysterious DEath in Italy' was staring at Harry from a heading of a section, next to another, equally obnoxiously-fonted heading 'The healing abilities of Doxy eggs'.

Harry grumbled and crossed his arms unhappily. As a former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team he found girls' behaviour offensive.

After few minutes Madam Hooch walked to the centre of the pitch and two teams emerged from the opposite corners of the pitch. Luna folded the magazine and stuffed it into her bag and Hermione followed her footsteps with her book.

''Mount your brooms,'' the referee ordered and the players obediently climbed their brooms.

Madam Hooch bent down to open up the chest. Once the Bludgers and the Snitch were unstrapped they shot up in the air like a bunch of unruly children impatiently awaiting their turn to wreak havoc. The referee grabbed the Quaffle and raised it up in the air like she wanted to present it to the audience. Then she sharply whistled and threw the Quaffle.

The Chasers rashly turned their brooms in the Quaffle's direction, while the Seekers raced after the Snitch.

''And the game has started!'' announced the commentator. ''Oh, look how they fight for the Quaffle!'' he said as a Hufflepuff chaser poked Lan with his shoulder.

Harry was sitting at the edge of his seat, his nails were digging into the wooden bench and he could almost, almost feel the rush of adrenaline and the wind ruffling his hair. His body wanted to join his fellow Gryffindors and lose himself in the quest for the Snitch. Alas, he was still sitting on the bench and the dour Potions Master's gaze was fixated on Harry instead of the match, probably trying to remind Harry that he'd made his choice and Potions were more important than the Quidditch.

''Yes, yes, Bluefold!'' triumphantly roared the commentator as the Hufflepuff Chaser who had been pushing Lan intercepted the Quaffle and threw it to the other Hufflepuff Chaser.

However, his joy did not last long as Ginny quickly turned her broom, blocking the Hufflepuff Chasers and taking over the Quaffle. ''No, Weasley, no! Somebody stop her!'' lamented the commentator while Harry jumped up cheering for his girlfriend. Luna encouragingly yelled for her friend too.

''Weasley passes the Quaffle to Anh. Gryffindor Chasers are taking the initative,'' the commentator spoke emotionally. ''Go, Hufflepuff, go! I know you can stop them!'' he shouted desperately.

Unfortunately for Hufflepuff, they were not able to stop Ginny, Demelza and Lan from scoring Gryffindor ten points.

''Why, Gebur, why?'' the commentator cried out being a Hufflepuff himself.

Harry admitted in shame that the majority of present Hufflepuff players' names were alien to him.

The Hufflepuffs weren't going to give up just yet, though. One of the Chasers, what was his name? Bluefold?, intercepted the Quaffle and together with two other Chasers started their race for the nearest goalpost.

''Look out, Ron!'' apparently even Hermione was invested in the game.

She needn't have called out her boyfriend as Ron knew his job well. Having caught the movement of the Hufflepuff trio with the corner of his eye, the red-head gripped his broom even tighter, accelerating its speed. Just as one of the not-Bluefold Chasers threw the Quaffle at the goalpost, Ron kicked the ball of of the hoop's way. Hermione clapped loudly and Harry smirked, sure that the bookworm was not thinking about studying at last.

''Damn it, Weasley!'' the commentator huffed, not caring in the tiniest for the neutrality. McGonagall glared disapprovingly at the boy. ''Sorry, professor,'' he cringed.

Due to Hufflepuff ethos, badger's Beaters were the most useless members of the team. Yes, they did their job at protecting their team from the Bludgers, but they always made sure hitting the Bludgers would do no harm to the other team. In Harry's opinion the hard-working and loyal Hufflepuffs often lacked the spirit of competitiveness. They cared more for fair play than the game itself. Like Cedric, a voice in Harry's mind reminded sorrowfully. He sighed deeply, suddenly not feeling that invested in the match.

A loud, collective worried 'ooh' drew Harry's attention back to the game. One of Hufflepuff Beaters was hit by a Bludger aimed at her by Ritchie. The girl would have fallen off her broom if not for helpful hand of her fellow Beater.

''Ouch, that looked nastily, Earfoth!'' the commentator hissed painfully.

And maybe pity was Hufflepuff way of getting to their rivals – not long after the Bludger attack Hufflepuffs scored ten points. Even from afar Ron's anger was visible. Still Gryffindor was winning by a large margin of one hundred and sixty points. Even catching the snitch wouldn't help the Hufflepuff, but as long as the match lasted, the capricious fortune could change its verdict.

Demelza did a 360 degrees spin on her broom with a Quaffle in her hand as she avoided a Bludger viciously flying in her direction. Then she passed the Quaffle to Lan Nga Anh, who threw it in the hoop, gaining Gryffindor another 10 points.

''Come on, guys, you can still win this!'' the commentator pleaded.

Meanwhile the Seekers raced for the snitch far above the spot of the main game. Harry knew snitches well – they liked to fly up to the clouds, often concealing the fight between the Seekers from the eyes of the spectators.

Then the tiny winged ball suddenly nosedived. Two Seekers followed it, but for some reason the Hufflepuff gave up her chase when she was maybe thirty feet above the ground. The new Gryffindor Seeker had no intention of giving up so easily. His lips pressed into a thin line as he focused entirely on the snitch. And the snitch loved to deceive the players. Only thanks to pulling off a feint quite similar to the Wronski's one, the Gryffindor Seeker avoided crashing against the ground.

''Smart move, Maretiud!'' the commentator applauded his fellow Hufflepuff. ''That was risky move, Griffood.''

Giving up must have been a thought-out tactic as the Hufflepuff Seeker quickly spotted the snitch and resumed her chase. Meanwhile, Griffood had lost several seconds on the feint. The new Seeker clenched his fists against the broom. He was so close to the snitch, he was reaching out to grab it and the victory was at hand when Maretiud seized the control over the snitch ending the match.

''Amazing catch!'' the commentator roared and then looked at the scoreboard. ''Unfortunately, Gryffindor wins anyway,'' he added in defeat.

The red-and-gold parts of the audience rose up, clapping and whistling loudly.

''I think we should go and congratulate our team. Ron will appreciate it,'' Harry said to Hermione as they were leaving their seats.

Surprisingly enough, Hermione nodded. ''He's quite moody recently, don't you think?''

''Not more than usually,'' Harry shrugged as they walked around the stadium to meet with the team. He was proud of them. The new Seeker was skillfull, even though he still had a lot to practice. And it turned out Ginny had been right about choosing Lan as their new Chaser. Needless to say, Ron made an amazing Keeper and while Ritchie's playstyle was often aggressive, it was effective.

Chapter Text

Ron was enjoying his hearty portion of eggs, beans and sausage, much to Hermione's disgust, when the owls flew in with the morning post.

''Here, Piggy!'' Ginny smiled at the bird with a letter.

''Hey, Pig's my owl!'' Ron reminded, though yolk dripping from his chin did not make anyone take his protest seriously. ''You can take Errol,'' he huffed.

Ginny extended her arm and the tiny owl landed, letting go of the mail and then jumped excitedly, proud of doing its job. Harry watched the playful bird with a pang of nostalgia. Whenever Pigwidgeon delievered post, Harry was reminded of his loyal feathered companion and the wound of his loss was opened anew. It's been over a year and half and the boy still missed his owl. He knew he should eventually get a new one, but the mere thought felt like a treason of Hedwig's memory.

''Traitor,'' Ron narrowed his eyes at Pigwidgeon and the owl covered in shame.

''Oh, Ron, don't be mean, you made him sad,'' Hermione cooed as she stroked owl's soft feathers.

Ginny took Ron's knife and before he could stop her, she opened up the letter.

''Hey!''

''What? You weren't even using it,'' the red-haired girl demonstrated clean knife. ''I wouldn't have used it if it was dirty, duh,'' she rolled her eyes.

Harry chuckled at the squabble between the siblings.

''What is it?'' Ron asked after taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

''Mum's asking if we are going to spend Easter in the Burrow,'' Ginny passed the letter to her brother. ''Naturally, you are invited,'' she added looking at Harry and Hermione.

''Normally, I would stay here and study, but I think I'd like to spend the Easter with my family. I could visit you on Easter Monday,'' she said upon spotting Ron's pout.

''Harry?'' Ginny asked expectantly.

''Sure. Do I have a better place to choose?'' Harry smirked.

''You know, mate, you could always spend the break with Kreacher,'' Ron said amusedly, earning a shove from his sister. ''Just kidding! Sheesh!''

The thought of two weeks break from classes kept Harry's mind so preoccupied, he had a hard time paying attention. He completely failed to notice when Snape asked him a question during the standard Potions and the Potions Master did not miss the opportunity to make fun of Harry.

''Do I bore you, Potter?'' the teacher asked with cold precision.

''Uhm, no, sir,'' Harry answered suddenly broken from his reverie.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' Snape announced and Harry didn't even find the will to argue. Sometimes it felt like the normal-Potions Snape and extra-Potions Snape were two different people. Like the teacher was putting an act during the Monday Gryffindor-Slytherin classes for the rest of the students. Maybe it was an old habit of playing roles during the war. But why would he keep doing that?

Frankly, the rest of the week did not go any better – he transfigured a frog into a wooden spoon instead of a steel knife.

''Harry, focus!'' Hermione hissed in whisper.

Harry rubbed his ankle. He got it that she wasn't happy with him, but did she have to kick him? Was he to blame for the beautiful weather outside that urged him to go out? The juicy green grass and golden sunrays on the other side of the window...

At least he had no troubles with performing the Banshee banishing spell during DADA.

Having been done with writing assignments and studying for the day, Harry got to packing up his belongings on Friday afternoon. Books landed right at the bottom of the trunk. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he had no will to get even a tiniest glimpse of the books in the two upcoming weeks. Naturally, Hermione wasn't going to allow that and as far as he knew Mrs. Weasley, she was going to support Hermione's effort in ruining their free time.

Then went his quill and bottles of ink. Finally, his school robes and muggle clothing found its way to the trunk.

The boy looked at the trunk and his initial satisfaction from finishing the mundane packing quickly died out – his trunk looked as if a hurricane went through it. Which, surprisingly enough, should have been a quite logical outcome, considering that Harry had been carelessly throwing things into the chest.

Groaning, Harry ran down his palm down his face and picked up his wand. He might have vastly preferred jeans to robes, but he surely wasn't dealing with this nonsense the muggle way. As his clothes were folding themselves in the air, he was met by another unwelcomed surprise. Apparently if you throw a glass bottle into a wooden trunk, there was a non-zero chance of the bottle cracking, who would have thought? With a pained sigh Harry gave up and chose to ignore it. He could deal with it in the Burrow, as long as he managed to hide it from the observant eyes of Molly Weasley.

Speaking of the Weasleys, Harry started to wonder where was Ron. He should start preparing for tomorrow soon or Hermione wouldn't stop nagging him about it until the end of the Spring break. Then it him him like a Bludger – it was Friday. Ron wasn't in the dormitory, which meant he was in the Quidditch training. Which meant... Fuck! He was late for Potions!

Running out of the Gryffindor tower, Harry glanced at the calendar to see if it wasn't Friday the 13^th by some weird twist in the fabric of the time. Luckily, it wasn't, but it did not ease Harry's shock at all.

''Slow down! You are going to break your neck!'' the Fat Lady warned.

''Twenty minutes late, Potter! By all means I should have left the classroom when the clock struck 4 P.M.,'' even if Snape had yelled his voice would not have been so terrifying as his calm and calculated manner of speech.

''Sorry, sir,'' Harry leant against the doorframe to catch his breath. ''I-''

''You what, Potter? Are you going to tell me it is not going to happen again? I will let you know you have been late to half of the extra Potions. It is simply statistically not likely for you not to be late again. Now,'' Snape clapped loudly, making Harry jump. ''Let us not waste any more time. Today you are going to revise Felix Felicis.''

''The liquid luck?'' Harry remembered the unusual sensation of some force imparting him with confidence about his endeavours he had felt having drunk the potion.

''Yes, some call it that way, although Felix Felicis literally means 'Luck of luck,'' Snape said matter-of-factly. ''Felix Felicis is one of the most difficult potions taught in Hogwarts. I sincerely regret the fact it was not moved to the seventh-year curriculum.''

''Doesn't it take like forever to make?'' Harry scrunched up his nose, trying to recall the brewing process.

''It takes six months for the potion to mature,'' Snape confirmed. ''However, all the necessary steps you need to learn are performed before the potion is put aside to mature.''

Harry grumbled. Much use of the potion if it would be ready after his graduation.

''As I said, this is a highly difficult potion. I do not expect you to succeed,'' Snape said as if he had read Harry's mind. Which, knowing Snape, wasn't unlikely.

''Pretty encouraging, professor,'' the boy huffed.

''Enough of the small talk, Potter. Get to brewing.''

Harry opened up his book. It was disappointingly devoid of young Snape's annotations. He run his finger down the page and he knew the book was missing a few helpful remarks, but he couldn't recall their content. He shuffled the pages of the book, overcome with a feeling of helplessness. Borage's instructions truly had him at loss. He looked up to take a look at his teacher and a thought appeared in his mind. A risky thought, but at worst Snape was going to yell at him and take some points from Gryffindor. Ye olde standard, one could say. Besides, if Snape was still putting up with Harry, he must have been prepared for his insolence.

''Could you write down your recipe, sir?'' Harry asked.

''Is the Advanced Potion-Making unfit for the mighty Harry Potter?'' Snape asked mockingly.

''Well, I think we both can say we are not fans of Borage's book,'' Harry shrugged.

Snape's eyebrows went slightly up, but the rest of his face remained stoic. ''I am glad you have taken greater interest in Potions,'' with a swift movement Snape took a piece of chalk and started noting down a recipe different from the one in the book.

Harry wouldn't call it taking greater interest in Potions, it would just help not having shitty instructions. But a tiny voice in his head suggested that perhaps Snape secretly enjoyed sharing his own discoveries with others. Maybe it was why he usually wrote down recipies on the blackboard. Now that Harry thought about it, Snape rarely requested his students during standard Potions to follow book's instructions. Was it some kind of test for Harry?

The boy went to the cabinet and took Ashwinder eggs, squill bulb, Occamy eggshells and several other necessary ingredients.

Harry put an Ashwinder egg into the cauldron. Unlike the book, Snape's alteration of the recipe suggested to crush the Ashwinder egg. Harry pressed a spoon against the egg. He didn’t expect for the egg to be so hard to break. He pressed the egg stronger against the bottom of the cauldron until its shell gave up under the pressure. Next he grabbed a horseradish and a grater. His eyes and nostrils stung when he grated the root. Why couldn't he use a bottled grated horseradish like the ones aunt Petunia kept in the fridge?

Meanwhile, the Potions Master remained unaffected by the substances evaporating from the horseradish pulp. Taking into acocunt the time the man has spent brewing potions, it was likely his body was acclimatised to various fumes. Or his conjunctivae were already burnt out.

Having been done with the horseradish, Harry put the pulp into the cauldron and lit up the fire beneath it. Subsequently, he squished a squill bulb and let the juice pour into the cauldron and stirred vigorously like he was told by the white chalk on the blackboard.

As Harry was reaching for the growth from Murtlap's back, his arm was stopped by a hand gripping his wrist. Harry looked at Snape, preparing himself for the teacher to yell at him and remind him how hopeless he was at Potions.

Snape, however, let go of Harry's wrist without a word and opened up a cabinet, producing a vial with a translucent liquid inside. Harry's hand once again wandered towards the Murtlap's gross thingies.

''Don't,'' the Potions Master warned. ''You are going to ruin the potion,'' he said uncorning the vial. It smelled like... vinegar?

''Uh, sir, your instructions don't mention vinegar,'' Harry said in self-defence. This time he wasn't to blame for the failure. It wasn't his fault Snape apparently forgot to write one ingredient down.

''That's because it is not an ingredient for Felix Felicis,'' Snape explained smoothly, letting few drops of vinegar fall into the cauldron. Harry opened up his mouth to ask, but the former spy was quicker to speak. ''Tell me, Potter, how did you stir the ingredients?''

''Uh, you know, quickly,'' Harry said warily and spun his arm in the air, mimicking the movement.

''So you have stirred clockwise? Can you read what the instructions on the blackboard say?'' Snape asked and he did not seem angry. He looked... amused?

''Vigorously stir ten times counterclockwise,'' Harry read aloud in shame.

''Exactly. You could read the instructions more carefully instead of jumping into conclusions, Potter,'' the said not bothering to look at Harry. Instead he was fully focused on the potion in front of him, slowly stirring it counterclockwise and observing the change in colour, as if he forgot he had tasked Harry with brewing that potion. Apparently the potion didn't need to be stirred vigorously now? Older wizard's facial features softened and for once he did not look like the bitter man pushing his forties. He looked like he was in his element and once again it appeared to Harry it was the real Severus Snape, the one his mum had made friends with and the dungeon bat was only a mask. But he did he keep wearing it? The war was over.

''The counterclockwise stirring pattern decreases the alkalinity of Ashwinder eggs,'' the teacher went on and Harry gasped quietly. In front of him wasn't standing the dour Potions Master. He was speaking with the Half-Blood Prince himself, Harry realised. ''Since you failed to maintain that stirring pattern, some other means were required to diminish the alkalinity. Vinegar is a quick solution since it is highly acidic. You could also add few drops of lemon juice as long as it does not contain the fruit pulp. Once you add Murtlap's growth to the mix, it is too late to regulate the acidity of the solution. However, I would not recommend making such experiments during exams.''

Harry opened up his mouth, trying to process what he had just heard. It surely sounded smart, but he had a feeling at least half of it eluded him.

''Do not gape, Potter. They surely must have told you about acids and alkalines in the muggle school,'' Snape narrowed his eyes. Oh great, the greasy git was back. Harry couldn't say he missed him.

Harry absent-mindedly scratched his head. He couldn't recall such a subject in the primary school. And how would Snape know what was taught in muggle schools? Oh, yeah, the Half-Blood Prince. It was easy to forget Snape wasn't a pure-blood. Though, Harry could not imagine Snape attending muggle school, especially in the clothing that he had worn when he'd met Lily. He would have been the laughing stock of the entire school. Not that Hogwarts had treated him any better, Harry thought bitterly. ''It was years ago, sir,'' he pointed out at last. ''Maybe the curriculum has changed...'' he stopped mid-tracks, realising he was going to say 'since you had attended it.'' Better not to bring up that subject.

''It is a great relief to hear not only years of wizarding education, but also years of muggle education weren't lost on you, Potter,'' Snape said in a silky sing-song.

''Yeah, well, I've never been much of a scholar,'' Harry replied tiredly. ''Surprised, professor?''

''Not really,'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Continue brewing.''

Harry finally added the next ingredient to the mixture, this time uninterrupted by his teacher. He began stirring once more, making sure he was stirring the right way. Slow, monotone circular movements made his mind wander far, far away from Potions.

''Did my mum like muggle school, sir?'' the boy asked.

''She did not seem too enthusiastic about the muggle school as an institution. However, there were subjects she enjoyed. She was especially partial to Science, or at least the parts related to Biology and Chemistry. However, she told me Physics had not been her thing, which isn't surprising. One cannot confine such a brilliant witch to the laws of Physics.'' Harry smiled at Snape's remark. ''If my memory serves me right, your mother also enjoyed English. She loved Shakespeare.''

Ugh, that guy, Harry wrinkled his nose. He remembered his English teacher, an elderly lady who seemed to be old enough to have met the playwright in person, boring them about some change in pronunciation, some shift or something.

''I take it that you have not found the pleasure familiarizing yourself with Shakespeare's plays, Potter?'' Snape asked out of sudden with a smug smirk dancing in the corners of his lips.

''That's one of Hogwarts' pros over muggle school,'' Harry muttered reluctantly, regretting having asked about his mum. It was none of the bat's bloody business what he liked to read. Or if he liked to read at all.

---

The following day two Weasley siblings and Harry were greeted by Mrs. Weasley on the porch of the Burrow.

''How nice to see you all in good health, my dears!'' Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly. ''Ron!'' she embraced her son, who stiffened locked between her arms. ''Let me look at you!'' she let go of Ron. ''You've turned nineteen this month! Oh, to think not so long ago you went to Hogwarts! You grow up too fast!'' the woman sniffed.

''Yeah, thanks, mum. I got your birthday card,'' Ron looked at his feet. His face was turning as red as his hair.

''How was the travel?'' the woman waved at the teenagers to come inside.

''Mum, we Apparated,'' Ron reminded tiredly, accompanied by Ginny hiding her giggles behind her hand pressed to her lips.

''Apparition can be tiring too. Besides, there is always a chance of something going wrong,'' Mrs. Weasley pointed out, always thinking about potential dangers awaiting her family. Harry and Ron exchanged abashed looks, simultaneously recalling Ron's mishap with Apparition during their hunt for horcruxes. ''I can't imagine how muggles endure travelling without magic,'' she went on, ignorant to impatient expressions adorning teenagers' faces.

''It's quite similar to the Hogwarts express,'' Harry shrugged.

The trio first headed upstairs, levitating their trunks behind them. Ginny directed her chest to her room, while Harry followed Ron up to the fifth floor to his bedroom. Then they walked downstairs.

The living room felt a little bit unusual without the Weasley's peculiar clock, which had been taken away after the battle of Hogwarts. The clock on that Fred's hand stopped on 'dead'. Knowing Molly Weasley, she most likely did not get rid of it completely – Harry would not be surprised to find it in the attic.

''You've made it,'' Mr. Weasley said plainly from behind the newest issue of the Daily Prophet.

''Hermione didn't come with you? Ouch,'' George arrived from the kitchen.

''Yeah, well, she wanted to spend some time with her parents. Besides, 'she needs to study','' Ron mimicked quotations marks with his fingers.

''Shouldn't you all be studying as well? I've heard N.E.W.T.s are going to be excruciatingly difficult this year to compensate for last year's easiness,'' George mocked his fellow Gryffindors.

Ginny grabbed a cushion and threw it at her one-eared brother. ''Like you are the one to talk! You've never taken a single N.E.W.T.!''

''And I'm better off, my dear sister!''

''Forgive me, I had to feed the chickens,'' Mrs. Weasley joined the conversation. ''Ginny's right, George, you should take N.E.W.T.s. I've talked with Roberta, the florist from Diagon Alley,'' she explained when she was met with confused glances. ''She told me her nephew had taken N.E.W.T.s six years after graduation! You could too.''

''I don't need it,'' George scoffed.

''Haven't you ditched the school without graduating?'' Ron scrunched up his nose.

Harry sat quietly on the sofa and smirked softly. He loved that the squabbles between the Weasley clan were forgotten by the dinner. And how they usually were induced by care and concern for the family members. It felt like home. A home he wished he could have grown up in.

''I agree with your mother – you could at least try. You never know, one day N.E.W.T.s might be useful,'' Mr. Weasley folded the newspaper in half.

''I don't need it and I won't need it,'' George repeated firmly.

Once they were done with helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, the trio met in Ron's room.

''Why mum always tasks us with so much cleaning,'' Ron groaned. ''There's still a week until Easter. The house will require cleanig at least ten more times before we get to Easter Sunday!''

''My bet is that tomorrow we are going to be hunting Doxies,'' Harry lay on the bed without any energy left in his body. Then a seed of thought started to growing in his mind. He narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate on a thought that he somehow knew was important.

''I guess you are right,'' Ginny sat against a wall. ''Not much time for rest.''

''Hermione wrote she's visiting us on Tuesday. Wanna make bets if she brings her books with her?'' Ron asked.

Ginny hid her head in between her knees. '''ve got no energy for studying,'' she muttered.

''Guys,'' the thought in Harry's mind was slowly growing its roots. ''Isn't Easter in April this year?'' he asked carefully.

''Yes, why?'' Ginny looked up at her boyfriend.

''Teddy's birthday's in April,'' Harry finally recalled what his subconscious was nagging him about. A year since he had become a godfather. Eleven months without Tonks and Remus... eleven months without Fred... suddenly, his chest felt heavy. Embarrassment mixed with some other feeling, maybe guilt, squeezed his guts. How easy it was to push all those nightmare-like memories at the back of his mind.

''Happy birthday to him,'' Ron said flatly.

''Uhm... What kids get for birthday?'' Harry wondered aloud, still clueless about wizarding gifts. He knew what Dudley had received. Tones of presents he'd had no need for. Dudley had always had everything. How his cousin was doing now? Harry had no idea where he was living now. Did the Dursleys return to the Privet Drive?

''Toys. You can get them in Notterwald's Thrilling Trifles in the Diagon Alley,'' Ginny suggested, bringing Harry's train of thought back on the right track.

''Or kites. Mr Milvus Grizedale, Kitemaker sells them,'' Ron mused.

''Teddy's too young to play with kites, isn't he?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

''Then buy him a broom. Didn't you say Sirius bought you one for your first birthday?'' Ron reminded.

Harry sighed deeply, staring into the ceiling. Sirius. He often thought about his godfather. There were so many things he would like to tell the man, but... Sirius had been reckless and Harry now saw how unfit his godfather had been to take care of a child. Even though the Gryffindor loved the man, he hoped he was going to make a better godfather to Teddy than Sirius had been to him. How he wished Sirius was here. ''I don't think Andromeda would appreciate it,'' he noted, recalling the letter his mum had written to Sirius, describing the havoc little Harry had caused with his tiny broom.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up breathing heavily. His shirt was sticky from sweat. Having looked around, he realised he was in the Burrow in Ron's room. Then next thing that came to Harry's mind was the question if he had been talking or screaming in his sleep as he had had on several occasions. Luckily, Ron was still snoring loudly, so Harry had done nothing to wake his roommate up.

Frankly, Harry coudn't recall what had happened in his nightmare. He only had a vague feeling the nightmare was about Lord Voldemort. But if it had been a memory or his brain coming up with some scenario on its own, he couldn't tell. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't got any Voldemort-related nightmares in months. Maybe even since Summer? His mind was probably too preoccupied with N.E.W.T.s… and having been cursed.

Harry chose not to speak about the nightmare to the Weasleys – it was quite likely they would start worrying about Voldemort returning once more if he mentioned the subject, as if Harry had never experienced a normal meaningless nightmare.

The boy yawned walking downstairs for breakfast and sleepily rubbed his eyes. By the time he reached the kitchen he was met with enthusiastic greeting in the form of ''Arry!'

Fleur kissed his cheek, much too Ginny's annoyance, but the red-haired girl didn't say a word. Harry looked at Bill, who didn't seem to mind. He was probably used to his wife greeting everyone with a kiss to a cheek.

''Bill, Fleur, I didn't know you would be coming,'' Harry smiled embarrassedly, suddenly very aware of the unkept state of his pajamas.

''We weren't sure either,'' Bill admitted.

''Oui, at first ze Gringotts didn't want to give us ze 'oliday. But zey changed zeir minds 'en Bill said 'ee would quit if zey didn't give us 'oliday,'' Fleur explained visibly pleased.

Bill laughed, eyeing his wife. ''I don't need to tell you whose idea it was to blackmail the Gringotts.'

''And it worked?!'' Ron looked at his brother sceptically.

''Skilled curse-breakers are 'ard to find,'' Fleur said smugly.

''And I'm glad you found the time to visit us for Easter,'' Mrs Weasley said, waving her wand to put some scrambled eggs on each plate on the table.

Harry reached for a fork and hid his smile behind his hand. Long gone were the days of Fleur being called 'Phlegm' and he couldn't be happier for her.

''Well, we've spent Christmas with Fleur's parents and Gabrielle, so we thought it would be nice to spend Easter in the Burrow,'' Bill said as his wife wrapped her arm around his.

George walked into the kitchen, yawning loudly and scratching his head not to tactfully, proving Harry's worries unjustified.

''Well, if it isn't my favourite sister-in-law?'' George welcomed Fleur.

''You have no other,'' Ginny reminded.

''Yet,'' George spoke with such self-esteem, Harry wondered if he knew something Harry didn't.

Mrs. Weasley, however, didn't find George's entrance amusing. ''Breakfast is getting cold!'' she said with her fists on her hips. ''And to think your father and your brother have already left for work.''

''Apparently they didn't have much luck in blackmailing the Ministry into giving them holiday,'' Ron said flatly.

''They have a lot of work. The Ministry can't simply afford sending all of its employees home for the rest of the week. Arthur said he would only get a free day for the Good Friday,'' Molly Weasley finally sat down to join her family.

Following the breakfast Harry offered help with the dishes, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want to hear a word of it.

''Dishes? Pffft! And what else? It must be that muggle upbringing. Oh, no, my dear, Ginny, Fleur and I will take care of it. With magic,'' the woman put an emphasis on the last word.

''I can do dishes with magic too…,'' the boy pointed out.

''Oh, don't worry, we'll find you some other occupation,'' Mrs. Weasley smirked.

Harry glanced at the scorn forming on Ginny's face at the mention of dishes. He felt awful about what he was going to do, leaving Fleur all alone. ''Actually, I could use Ginny's help at the Grimmauld Place.''

''What for?'' Mrs. Weasley asked warily.

''Spring cleaning, stuff like that,'' Harry hoped his voice didn't betray the deception.

''Absolutely!'' Ginny nodded like cleaning Grimmauld Place were her top priority.

''Can't your house elf do it for you?'' Mrs. Weasley spoke it in such a way Harry was willing to give Hermione the credit for her work with the S.P.E.W.

''Uh, well,'' Harry insecurely scratched the back of his neck. ''Kreacher is an old elf…''

''Not a problem. I can do ze dishes myself,'' Fleur offered and Harry was deeply grateful for her support.

''I'll help Harry too. That ruddy elf needs to be overlooked,'' Ron eagerly cut in, having overheard the conversation.

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to be convinced by her youngest son's argument. ''And who will help me pluck chickens?''

''George has a lot of time. He can help,'' Ron argued and Fleur turned her face away to hide her smirk.

''George has a business to run,'' Mrs. Weasley reminded.

Knowing he wasn't going to win, Ron shot his friend an angry glare and huffed. Ginny, on the other hand, looked smugly at her brother as she followed Harry to the backyard, where the couple was met with chickens. Harry wondered if those were the unlucky chickens soon to be plucked by Ron or if those chickens had already been decapitated.

''I guess we'll really have to go to the Grimmauld Place. Your mum is gonna kill me if she finds out we didn't,'' Harry whispered conspiratorially. A hen started pecking Harry's sneakers.

''It's better than dishes, anyway,'' Ginny smiled taking Harry's hand in her own.

Harry bit his lip, trying to stop himself from smiling. ''Or plucking chickens.''

---

The couple Apparated in front of the door of the house. Harry used his wand to open up the door and two teenagers walked in. With a snap, the house elf appeared in the hallway.

''Master didn't say he was going to appear at the Grimmauld Place,'' the elf spoke quite politely, even though he was eyeing his master and his master's girlfriend uneasily. ''Kreacher would have prepared the house for Master's arrival if he knew,'' he added a little bit accusatory.

''Yeah, well, we arrived here kinda on a whim,'' Harry explained feeling slightly ashamed. House elves were touchy about their service and he didn't want to experience a house elf meltdown right now.

''Kreacher is glad to see his Master in good health,'' the house elf looked at Ginny. ''And in good company.''

Ginny crossed her arms, clearly not flattered by the compliment.

''Kreacher has brought the mail from the box Master had installed,'' the old elf reached out inside the rag wrapped around his body and took out a stack of leaflets.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and took the leaflets. The majority of them were advertisements of muggle restaurants and few featured IT services – mostly offers to provide a landline with Internet. They must have come from the Post Office Box that Harry had rented, the boy realised. But the box was kept in the post office – no one had installed a box near 12 Grimmauld Place. Postmen wouldn't even find the concealed building, anyway.

Harry turned leaflets in his hand again. Ginny curiously glanced over her boyfriend's shoulder, having never seen a muggle leaflet before. ''How did you get them?''

''The post was intended for Master, so Kreacher collected it,'' the house elf explained simply.

Harry sighed. Talking to Kreacher could be difficult. ''Did you go to the post office?''

''Kreacher went where it was necessarry. Master doesn't need to worry – there were no muggles,'' Kreacher's tone left no doubt to the question of Kreacher's opinion on muggles.

''Scum! Mud-blood!'' the mention of muggles awakened Walburga Black's painting. Both teenagers cringed at the shrill voice.

Harry exhaled slowly. So Kreacher had probably Apparated into the post office in the middle of the night to take some leaflets. Hopefully there had been no cameras in the post office.

''Is Master unhappy with Kreacher? Should Kreacher punish himself?'' the house elf asked eagerly.

''What? No, you did amazing,'' Harry assured hastily. He didn't want to deal with Kreacher's outburst. House elves tended to take their job too seriously and often had a masochist streak. Luckily, Kreacher hadn't come up with an idea to send the leaflets to Hogwarts.

''Kreacher is happy to serve his Master. Would Master like Kreacher to prepare a treacle tart for Master and his friend?''

Harry smiled at Ginny. ''Yes, it would be nice.''

Truthfully, the visit to the Grimmauld Place had nothing to do with spring cleaning – Kreacher had already cleaned most of the common spaces in the house. In fact, only the common spaces – when Harry entered a bathroom to wash his hands before dessert (at Ginny's request) he was met with the sight of dusty floor, sink, bathtub... pretty much everything. It was painfully apparent the house elf never bathed. And explained why Kreacher was uncomfortable with Harry's arrival.

Actually, the visit had everything to do with a date. Once Harry grabbed Ginny's hand under the table and the treacle tart sitting nicely in his stomach, all the guilt related to leaving Ron and Fleur to Mrs. Weasley's devices was long forgotten. With their stomach's full, the couple moved to the drawing room to relax on the couch.

''So what are we doing now?'' asked Ginny with her head rested against Harry's shoulder.

Harry rubbed his girlfriend's arm. ''I dunno. Do we have to do anything?''

''Sooner or later we will have to return to the Burrow'' Ginny reminded reluctantly. ''Oh, I've got an idea! Maybe we could find the time to go to the Diagon Alley?''

''What for?'' Harry scrunched up his nose, his eyes focused on the fire dancing in the fireplace.

''It's not like two days ago you were complaining about not having a gift for Teddy,'' Ginny raised an eyebrow.

Harry bit his lip. Ginny was right, but Harry didn't want to leave the comfort of Ginny's sitting next to him and the pleasant crackling of logs in the fireplace. Ginny mischieviously intertwined her fingers with Harry's.

''You know you'd have to go there eventually,'' she rubbed her head against Harry's shoulder, finding more comfortable position, and a jolt of lightning went down Harry's spine.

''I'm not in the mood,'' Harry swallowed, his mouth terribly dry out of sudden.

Ginny tilted her head to get a better angle to look at Harry. ''And what are you in mood for?'' she smirked playfully. Her lips were so close... a smile crept onto his own face as he leant down for a kiss. The kiss came out not as smoothly as he'd like to, as he was forced to move Ginny from his shoulder, but it didn't matter.

Ginny giggled as their lips met. ''I think we should do house cleaning at Grimmauld Place more often.'' She didn't seem upset she had been forced off Harry's shoulder. Instead the red-head moved to Harry's laps.

Harry knew the grin on his face made him look stupid and he didn't care. ''Agreed. We should have more time for that after we graduate,'' he said rubbing circles on Ginny's back.

''And to think the N.E.W.T.s are coming in two months,'' Ginny's sigh was loaded with nostalgia.

Nostalgia that Harry found relatable. He had spent so many wonderful, and oftentimes frightening, years in Hogwarts. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think what he was leaving behind. ''Please don't turn into Hermione.''

''Sorry,'' Ginny blushed. ''I guess I'm getting nervous too.''

''You're gonna kill it,'' Harry assured. ''You're smart. Smarter than me or Ron. Don't tell him, though.''

''Can't make any promises. Siblings rivarly, you know.'' God, her eyes shone so beautifully when she was up to mischief.

As much as Harry wanted for the moment to last forever, they couldn't stay at Grimmauld Place indefinitely. Mrs. Weasley would make her dissatisfaction known. Therefore, in order to prolong their date the couple went to the Diagon Alley. Buying a birthday gift for his godson was a good excuse. Harry let Ginny guide him as the world of wixen toys was still an enigmatic land to him. Last time he had bought Teddy a muggle toy, but he couldn't keep avoiding wizarding toy shops forever.

''Potter! Would you like to try my brooms?'' a witch asked as the couple was walking down the street.

''Sorry, we're busy,'' Ginny cut in before Harry had a chance to say a word.

Harry enjoyed the atmosphere of the Diagon Alley, but since the battle of Hogwarts people have been staring at him, asking for a talk or an autograph. Sure, Harry had been drawing attention wherever he went ever since he had set a foot in the wizarding world nearly eight years ago, but that curiosity of the past was nowhere near the current one. And contrary to what people like Snape thought, Harry has never craved that kind of attention.

''Mr. Potter, would you like to take a look at my owls?'' a wizard politely offered.

''Uh, maybe next time...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck.

After a series of similar encounters the Gryffindors finally arrived at Notterwald's Thrilling Trifles. The bell rang merrily when Ginny opened the door.

''Ah, who we have here,'' an elderly wizard with a silver beard and slightly red cheeks smiled warmly. In some way he reminded Harry of a stereotypical Santa Claus. ''It's an honour to welcome famous Harry Potter in my humble establishment.''

''Um, thanks,'' Harry spoke insecurily, trying to think of a smoother way of telling the man to give it a rest. They didn't have to voice their admiration whenever Harry walked past them. It was annoying. Frankly, his battle with Voldemort had not been as spectacular as those people probably imagined. Certainly it wasn't a material for a heroic story. While Expelliarmus was one of Harry's favourite spells, it didn't look epic compared to let's say... Bombarda Maxima.

Spending the vast majority of his time in Hogwarts made Harry forget how the rest of the wizarding world perceived him. Even though his school mates knew Harry's role in Voldemort's defeat, they didn't flatter him constantly. He was just Harry to them, a student who was good at Quidditch, not so good at Potions and asked Hermione for help too often and Harry didn't want to leave it behind.

''We are looking for a gift for a one-year-old boy,'' Ginny explained.

The old wizard left his spot behind the counter. ''For such young children I would recommend colourful books with pictures. Ah, take a look!'' he swiftly grabbed a book bound in something that looked much like leather, but bent like plush under his fingers. ''Its edges are softened with a tiny bit of cushioning charm. And it only requires a tap of wand to make sounds,'' he added in a sing-song as if he would have found such a present entertaining if he had received it himself. Then he opened the book with his one hand and took his wand in the other one. With a gentle pat he touched a picture of a dragon and it roared, breathing drawn fire. Afterwards the dragon closed its maw and went still.

''That's uhm, impressive, but can it be turned on without a wand?'' Harry asked.

The seller furrowed his eyebrows, his face contorted with confusion. ''Beg your pardon, Mr. Potter? In what way turned on?''

''Uh, I mean, will the pictures move if a child touches them?'' Harry elaborated and out of curiosity tapped his finger against the dragon. It didn't move, however, to his disappointment.

''Oh, yes, it should!'' Mr. Notterwald nodded. ''I've never heard complaints from parents about the quality of my products.''

Harry wondered why would the magic within the book work with wands and children hands, but not his own hand. Probably it had something to do with accidental magic in children, he deduced.

''How about this?'' Ginny shook a flat cardboard box. It sounded like multiple things inside rattled and scraped against the lid.

''Excellent choice, Ms. Weasley!'' the elderly wizard clapped. ''May I?'' he took the box from girl's hands and opened it, revealing to Harry's eyes pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, big enough to prevent them from being swallowed by children. Then the seller shook the box and the shape of pieces and picture displayed on them changed. The man shook them again and they changed once more. ''There are so many variations children never get bored of them,'' Mr. Notterwald assured.

Harry, however, wasn't interested in toymaker's praises for his puzzle as his eyes spotted a red choo choo, a tiny copy of Hogwarts Express locomotive. ''Does it move with magic?'' he asked recalling Dudley's toy set with a train and a railway line that moved on batteries. His cousin quickly had got bored with the toy, having been showered with hundreds of other gifts.

''Does it move?'' the elderly wizard choked out incredulously, apparently having found the question silly. ''Of course, Mr. Potter!'' He took the toy from the shelf and having put it down on the floor, he touched it with his wand. The locomotive whistled happily, threw a chain of smoke in the air and its wheels started turning as it set off. Then he picked up the toy and put it away on the shelf.

''I'll take this one,'' Harry's mind was made up.

''I usually recommend this kind of toys for a little bit older children, but if that's what you find suitable...''

''Then it's gonna serve Teddy longer,'' Harry replied.

Mr. Notterwald took the toy once more and walked to the counter with a cash register. ''Would you like it wrapped in a gift wrapping paper?'' Having received a 'yes', the man produced from the shelf of the counter a red paper with white polka dots and a spool of a glittering ribbon. As he waved his wand, a sheet of paper divided itself from the rest of the roll and wrapped itself around the toy. Then the ribbon knotted itself into a neat bow.

Harry reached inside his coin pouch, paid for the toy and the couple left the shop.

''I knew you wouldn't have stopped yourself from buying this thing once I saw it. You know you were buying a gift for Teddy, not for yourself, right?'' Ginny asked cheekily as soon as they stepped outside.

''Yeah, well,'' Harry shrugged, thinking about the Hogwarts Express. He knew he was going to flood his godson with stories of his wonderful time at Hogwarts when Teddy got older.

Ginny chuckled softly and grabbed Harry's free hand. Then two Gryffindors Apparated back to the Burrow.

''What took you so long?'' Ron welcomed them when they crossed the threshold of the house. ''You've been away all day and I was forced to pluck chickens and clean dad's shed. Do you have any idea how many unfinished projects he keeps in there?!''

''I bet mum's gonna tell dad off for the mess he makes with his experiments,'' Ginny said knowingly.

''She already did. Dad returned an hour ago. I told you, it took you all day! That ruddy elf is doing an awful job if you had so much cleaning to do,'' Ron huffed, side eyeing Harry and Ginny like he knew there was in the fact no spring cleaning at the Grimmauld Place.

---

Armed with the present Harry Apparated before the gate protecting Andromeda's house. The owner walked out with a welcoming smile on her face. ''Harry! How nice to see you! Please, come inside,'' she waved at him.

Having stepped inside Harry looked around for signs of one-year-old.

Andromeda chuckled. ''You didn't think I would leave Teddy roaming around unattended, did you? That would be a recipe for disaster! He's in his crib.''

Teenager followed the woman to his godson's room. Andromeda grabbed the toddler and held him, supporting Teddy's weight on her hip. ''Do you want to hold him?''

''Uh,'' Harry surveyed the room for a spot to place the gift. After several seconds he opted for putting it down on the floor. ''Sure,'' he finally said, even though his voice gave it away he wasn't that sure about holding his godson. Andromeda swiftly handed him the child, as if it holding a baby was one of the most obvious movements. Meanwhile Harry's senses were put on full alert as he feared he was going to drop Teddy.

''Up you go to uncle Harry,'' Andromeda said merrily.

Uncle Harry? Truth be told, he didn't like the sound of that. He was only 17 years older than Teddy! ''Just 'Harry' is fine,'' he said hastily and he fixed his hold of the child. Teddy was heavier than the last time Harry had seen him.

''Haa-ee!'' Teddy clapped laughing and Harry laughed too.

''Yes, I'm Harry.'' Teddy wriggled in Harry's arms. ''Can I put him down?''

''Sure,'' Andromeda waved her hand dismissively.

Once he was sitting on the floor, the toddler crawled to the red, white-dotted paper and clenched his grabby fists around the ribbon.

''Do you like it?'' Harry crouched next to his godson. ''Here, let me help you,'' he chuckled pulling an end of the ribbon, untying it.

''You really didn't have to,'' Andromeda looked at the toy locomotive.

''It's Teddy's birthday and I'm his godfather,'' Harry said simply. Teddy was too young to be able to remember this day in the future, but Harry didn't want his godson to ever spend his birthday without a proper celebration like Harry had had for many years.

Teddy's tiny hands curled around the locomotive, turning it on. The toddler laughed and started crawling after the toy.

The visit left Harry with a bittersweet feeling in his guts. Teddy seemed to be a perfectly happy and healthy boy. He had a loving grandma... but he didn't have parents. Teddy was too young to be aware of that, but Harry knew growing up without parents was going to affect Teddy's life forever. Sure, it was something obvious when it lasted your entire life, but Harry felt that in his case the scar would always stay in there and feared it would haunt Teddy at times too.

Suddenly Harry felt an urge to see Tonks and Remus' grave. He hadn't paid them a visit since their funeral, the loss had been still too fresh back then. It was still fresh even now, but nearly a year after those events he felt more ready to see them.

Harry Apparated in front of the gate of the cemetery where Teddy's parents were buried. He walked through the gate and stopped by a tombstone that bore two names. His friends were buried together, just like his parents. Harry stood there lamely for good few minutes, not knowing what to say, even though he knew he should say something. Surely Andromeda visited the place regularly – the tombstone was clean and a bouquet of roses was lying by the grave. Embarrassment for not bringing any flowers with him washed over him. Harry quickly looked around and picked up a dried branch of some tree, transforming it into a branch of blossoming lilac in a shade similar to the colour Tonks had often worn on her hair, uncaring it was too early for lilac flowers. Having put the flowers by the tombstone, Harry gained the courage to speak.

''Hi, guys,'' Harry coughed to clean his throat. ''I'm sorry for not coming earlier. I hope-'' he breathed in to steady his voice. ''I hope that wherever you are, you are happy. I wish you were here to see Teddy growing. I'll have you know, he's growing so fast!'' Harry chuckled slightly. ''You'd love to see that, but... Andromeda probably has already told you that. I'm not spending as much time with Teddy as I'd like too, as I should to repay for the trust in put in me to look after you son. I know it's shitty excuse, but it's hard to spend time with Teddy when I'm staying all the time at Hogwarts, you know. I hope it's gonna change once I graduate. I've got N.E.W.T.s in two months. Uh, keep your fingers crossed for me?'' Harry's eyes were fixated on the letters on the tombstone. ''I'll try to visit you more often. I'll see you in July, I think? Give hugs to my parents, Sirius and Fred, alright?''

Harry nodded and left. He thought talking to Remus and Tonks was going to loosen the knot in his stomach, but in its place guilt over not visiting his own parents appeared. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't brought Ginny with him – she would have probably wanted to visit Fred. He knew it was right thing to do. The problem was Harry didn't think he wasn't prepared to see Fred's grave again just yet. And so Harry's next stop was Godric's Hollow.

The boy conjured a bouquet of roses and put it down a little bit awkwardly, shifting its position from left to right in an attempt to find the most dignified spot. Frankly, Harry wasn't well informed on the cemetery code of conduct. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had never taken him to see his maternal grandparents' graves. Finally, Harry sat down in front of the tombstone on which his parents' names were carved and hugged his legs. He didn't care he was sitting on damp grass, too preoccupied with the letters on the tombstone. He didn't speak a word. He doubted there was a point in talking to his parents when the resurrection stone had allowed him to see and speak with his parents. They were patiently waiting for him out there, he was certain of it. He knew a day would come when they were going to be reunited, but it didn't change the desire for his parents to be there. He looked at the tombstone like he'd had at the Mirror of Erised and at the edge of his imagination a picture of his parents standing behind the tombstone appeared. They were smiling down at him and he smiled weakly at them, knowing the picture wasn't real.

Chapter Text

Within a blink of an eye the quatro of Gryffindors found themselves back in school. What was even worse, it was already mid-April and they could feel incoming N.E.W.T.s breathing down their necks. Naturally, Hermione had spent most of her Spring break learning and the days she had visited the Burrow she had tried to get her friends into studying together, more or less successfully. Whether Harry liked it or not, he could no longer deny exams were nigh. Teachers also did not fail to remind their students of this terrifying fact, and it seemed that Snape, McGonagall and O'Cathail took a pleasure in stressing teenagers with speeches on N.E.W.T.s' difficulty.

As Harry was packing his copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration into his bag, McGonagall called him.

''Potter, I will be awaiting you today at 5:30 P.M. in my office. Needless to say, I expect you to arrive on time,'' the Headmistress looked at him sharply. No doubt Snape had been complaining about Harry's lack of punctuality.

''Of course, Professor,'' Harry said hastily as he threw his bag on his shoulder.

''They won't leave you alone, right?'' Ron whispered when Harry caught up with him and Hermione. ''What does she want this time?''

''Probably something with exams,'' Harry shrugged.

''Do you think she'll want to talk with everyone of us, like she had in the fifth year?'' Ron scrunched up his nose.

''Well, she's not the head of Gryffindor anymore,'' Ginny reminded. ''She should have more important matters on her mind.''

''Yeah, but I feel like she still were the head. It's easy to forget it's O'Cathail's job now,'' Ron pointed out.

''Head of Gryffindor or not, I think she still wants us to do our best on N.E.W.T.s. We should appreciate that she's reminding us of our most urgent priorities,'' said Hermione. ''Speaking of which, we have two hours we can spend in the library before Harry has to talk with McGonagall.''

''Hermione, please,'' Ron begged tiredly.

''Both Snape and McGonagall gave us assignments today. And I've also been tasked with Arithmancy assignment. We shouldn't waste our time on resting when we've got not even two full months to the N.E.W.T.s,'' brown-haired girl reasoned.

The red-haired boy looked at Harry as if he was nauseous, but refrained from protesting, obediently following his girlfriend to the library.

Harry excused himself from the group study session and headed for the Headmistress office. Having said 'toadstool', he climbed up the spiral staircase and knocked on the door.

''Please come in,'' McGonagall answered and Harry pushed the knob.

It turned out the Transfiguration teacher wasn't the only person present in the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted teenager with a polite smile. ''Long time no see, Potter. I'm sorry for keeping you from studying. We all know how stressful N.E.W.T.s are.''

''It's good to see you too, Minister,'' Harry tried to hide his confusion. Couldn't McGonagall have said Kingsley would be here too? And why did he need to talk with Harry? A shadow of anxiety passed through him and even though he was certain Voldemort was dead and gone, some part of his mind suggested it was the reason behind Kingsley's visit. Harry briefly glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, looking for a clue.

''Oh, I am sure this conversation isn't going to affect Potter's exams,'' McGonagall reasoned.

''I can see you are wondering why I am here,'' the dark-skinned man said with a tint of amusement. ''I understand your mind is focused on the exams, but the Ministry has other objective to take care of before the N.E.W.T.s. We would like to hold an official ceremony on the day of the first anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts,'' he explained.

''That makes sense, but why do you need me to be here?'' Harry asked not giving much attention to the proper way of addressing the Minister for Magic.

Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows as a smirk appeared on his lips. ''You truly have no idea, Potter? Do I need to remind you who do we owe the victory?''

''Uhm, lots of people, actually...'' Harry looked down at his shoes.

''I find your ability to emphasise others' achievents admirable, but now it is not the time for modesty,'' McGonagall scolded him.

''But it's true!'' Harry protested.

''The Ministry would like you to give a speech during the ceremony,'' Kingsley got straight to the point. Harry opened up his mouth, but the older man went on. ''We believe it would improve the wizarding Britain's morale vastly. I know people tried to use you for their own means, yes, oftentimes political means. I promise you that I'm not trying to use you.''

''It's not that I think you're trying to use me. I know that's not you,'' Harry shifted awkwardly from left to right. ''I'm just not good at speeches.''

''What I've gathered from the stories about your little DADA group, that's quite far from the truth,'' McGonagall said.

''You are their hero, Harry. They will be expecting to hear a word from you on that day. As the Minister I have to think about the good of the society. They want you to console them. To inspire them. You are a living legend,'' the Minister reasoned.

''It's been a year. How can I console them?'' Harry asked more angrily this time. ''I've never wanted any of this! I don't want to stand in front of everybody and remember how my friends died!''

''We understand it is not an easy task,'' McGonagall spoke calmly.

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms. ''You give me too much credit. I would have never suceeded on my own. I had Ron and Hermione who helped me with my task. Neville cut off Nagini's head! It was necessary for me to defeat Voldemort and I didn't do it, he did! He, Ginny and Luna were taking risks opposing Death Eaters in Hogwarts! And what about Professor Snape? Nothing would have worked out without his work as a spy. Why don't you ask them to do speeches instead?''

''Yes, all of it is true, but you are the one who defeated Lord Voldemort,'' said Kingsley.

''Ugh, you are just trying to find somebody who will do the talking in your place,'' Harry grimaced.

''Potter!'' McGonagall rebuked him, but Kingsley didn't seem offended by the accusation.

''Can't you do what ministers do? Give medals to the protectors of the Castle or something?'' Harry went on.

''You would like me to give a mdeal to everybody who fought on the Light side?'' Minister's eyes were sparkling merrily and Harry didn't know why Kingsley found the suggestion funny.

''Why not? They deserve it. Those who survived and those who died... Fred, Tonks, Remus, Lavender, Colin... Isn't that consolation? And the ceremony would last so long there would be no time for speeches,'' Harry's inner Ron cut in.

''There's no chance of me persuading you, I see,'' Kingsley said.

McGonagall intertwined her fingers. ''We accept your decision, Potter. Even though I think it's foolish,'' she arched an eyebrow at her stubborn student.

''Well, if you change your mind, inform the Headmistress by 30^th of April,'' Shacklebolt nodded.

Harry left the office somewhat agitated. Why did they think it would be a good idea for Harry to speak in front of the crowd of the most honorable members of the wizarding world? But they had been right – Harry was a legend. Always had been, even before he had been aware of the existence of magic, wizrads and witches talked had talked about him. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry scoffed. If only people knew it had been his mum's protective magic that had rebounded the killing curse. There had been no Harry's doing in that – he had only been one by that time. And after The-Boy-Who-Lived came The Chosen One and then, finally, the saviour of the wizarding world. How he despised those titles.

The boy headed straight for the Great Hall and took a seat next to his friends, glancing in the direction of Headmistress' place. Apparently McGonagall had also some other stuff on her agenda to discuss with Kingsley.

''And what did she want?'' Ron asked impatiently.

Harry briefly looked around and lowered his voice, not wanting the offer he had received from the Minister to become school's newest hot gossip. ''Well... she and Kinglsey-''

''Kingsley was with McGonagall?! Why?!'' Ron's eyes widened.

Several pairs of eyes from the Gryffindor table looked at Harry with great interest. Dennis, on the other hand, turned his face away scowling. A few Ravenclaws from the neighbouring table peeked curiously at the dark-haired teenager.

''Shh!'' Harry hissed. ''They want me to give a speech on the battle's anniversary.''

''Congrats!'' Ginny smiled proudly.

''Wow, mate, that's big!'' Ron tried to keep his voice down with rather mediocre results.

''There were some rumours they were going to hold a ceremony here in Hogwarts, but I don't think anyone has mentioned you in it. That's a great honour, Harry! You deserve it,'' Hermione praised her friend.

''I turned it down,'' Harry admitted.

''What?'' Ron looked at Harry as if the boy in glasses had lost his mind.

''But why?'' Hermione asked at the same time.

Harry sighed, finding understanding only in Ginny's eyes. ''Well, you know, I'm not big on speeches. And frankly it feels like me talking would downplay others' efforts. Yours too. You know well, guys, I would have never made it without you.''

''Oh, Harry, that's so generous of you. But whatever you may think, you receiving the recognition doesn't diminish other people's role,'' Hermione said softly.

''How long McGonagall is gonna talk to Kingsley, you think? It looks that we're only waiting for her and I'm starving,'' Ron complained.

''Ronald!'' Hermione huffed, while Ginny sighed tiredly.

Harry, on the other hand, appreciated the change of subject. ''Hopefully not too long, I'm hungry too. Hagrid is already getting impatient,'' he turned his face to look at the half-giant fumbling nervously with his cutlery.

The news of the anniversary spread quickly down the corridors of the castle. Even though Harry managed to keep the information concerning the offer he had received confidential to the small group of his most trusted friends, the Minister for Magic had been right after all – Harry was expected to take some part in the ceremony.

''So, Potter,'' Eusebius Purflor approached Harry in the Gryffindor common room as Harry's quill was scribbling against a piece of parchment. ''Preparing something for the anniversary?'' he peeked meanly at the parchment.

''No, I'm working on my Herbology assignment. Why aren't you? You know Sprout requested 11 inches for next week,'' Harry stared angrily at his classmate.

''Maybe you have already finished yours, Purflor?'' Hermione mocked, shifting her eyes from Ron's own assignment-in-progress to her fellow Gryffindor.

''Ouch,'' Eusebius spoke flatly. ''No talks then, Potter? Gonna give medals then?''

''Get lost, Purflor!'' Ron huffed.

''Oh, so you're gonna receive an order, got it. Wonder who else is going to get one? Snape?'' Eusebius asked mockingly.

''Why not?'' Harry challenged his classmate. ''He's done more for winning the war than you have ever.''

''Oi, heard this, Dennis?'' Eusebius snorted, calling younger Creevey. ''Snape's done more for winning the war!''

''Yeah, for the victory of the Death Eaters. Too bad he failed,'' Dennis deadpanned as he entered the common room from the staircase. ''Wanna take guesses why they keep him here?''

''Probably because he hates it more than he would have hated Azkaban,'' Eusebius laughed drily.

''He was acquited, in case you forgot,'' Harry reminded tiredly. ''He was not sentenced to Hogwarts.''

''Are you sure about that?'' Dennis narrowed his eyes.

''I'm not Snape's fan, either, but if Harry says he is a hero then he is a damn hero,'' Ron said suddenly. ''I was present during his trial. Snape was cleared of all charges.''

''I guess the Wizengamot didn't have all the facts,'' Purflor rolled his eyes.

Hermione slammed her book shut. ''What facts? What are you even talking about?! You weren't there. You didn't fight for Hogwarts,'' she seethed. ''You have no right to judge the choices people made in the battle.''

''You're right – we weren't there. But you know who was? My brother! And what good came out of that?'' Dennis yanked the book from Hermione's grip.

''My brothers were there too! I've lost a brother as well!'' Ron yelled jumping at Dennis.

''I've lost my only brother, you've got like a dozen of those, Weasley!'' Dennis tried to kick Ron out of him.

Harry watched the scene stunned by the speed at which the argument had escalated.

''Stop it! All of you!'' Ginny roared, having appeared in the room seemingly out of nowhere. Her posture really gave Mrs. Weasley vibes.

''They are offending Fred! And Hermione! And Harry!'' Ron begged his sister to let him continue punching Dennis. ''They've been asking for it for months!''

''Oh, my book,'' lamented Hermione, noticing a page was torn in the altercation. Her sadness was short-lived as she cast a Reparo.

''I am glad I won't have to see you two ever again after graduation,'' Ginny huffed at Eusebius and Dennis with an air of superiority.

Apparently the story of the fight between the Gryffindors hadn't reached teachers' ears as no points were deducted. Moreover Snape made no comments on it during the extra Potions and as far as Harry knew the Potions Master he wouldn't have missed a chance to ridicule Harry.

Harry stirred the potion only half-aware how many times he had given it a stir, the conversation with Shacklebolt and McGonagall still fresh in his mind. Rationally speaking, he knew where their proposition came from, but the idea felt like an offence to the people who had lost their lives for the cause and to their families – to little Teddy who would never get a chance to meet his parents, to the Weasley clan... Yes, Harry himself had lost people he'd cared about too – his parents, his godfather and the man Harry had deemed one of his greatest protectors. But now his loss seemed incomparable to the hurt and grief of the others. Harry had been used to losing people, after all, and he'd known Sirius for such a short time. Did he have the right to mourn his loss when others lost people they had known their entire lives?

''Are you planning on blowing up the dungeons, Potter?'' Snape harshly brought Harry's thoughts back to the potion in the cauldron.

''Uh, what?'' Harry asked absent-mindedly.

''Manners, Potter,'' the Potions Master reminded not too politely. Then he unceremoniously put out the fire under Gryffindor's cauldron. ''I will not accept such an inattention around possibly dangerous potions. What is it that keeps your mind so preoccupied?''

''Uh, nothing, sir,'' Harry said defensively.

''Then I take you are not thinking about the upcoming commemoration?'' Snape expectantly raised an eyebrow. ''And certainly you are not wallowing in useless regrets. Am I correct, Potter?'' the teacher separated each word of the last sentence like he was talking to a half-wit.

Something inside Harry burnt with furry. ''Stop reading my mind!'' he yelled clenching his fists. It didn't matter he didn't feel a foreign conscience invading his mind. Snape was a master Legilimens capable of fooling Voldemort, after all.

Snape clicked his tongue, showing Harry that he knew he had assessed boy's thoughts correctly. ''First of all, Potter, being forced to constantly remind you Legilimency is not a mind-reading is truly getting tiresome. Minds are much more complex than a mere book. Or at very least, the majority of minds is,'' Snape repeated.

''But doesn't 'Legilimency' translate into 'mind-reading'?'' Harry argued.

''I assume Mrs. Granger has shared this discovery with you, hasn't she?'' once again Snape was correct in his guesses. Harry may have or may have not nagged about Snape having berated him for comparing Legilimency to mind-reading while talking with his friends. And naturally Hermione pointed out the literal meaning of the term as if she had memorised entire Latin dictionary. Which, knowing her, she'd had. ''Yes, evidently the person who coined the name for this branch of magic were not a Legilimens themselves. Secondly,'' the teacher put emphasis on the word. ''I didn't even need to perform Legilimency on you – you have all your thoughts and emotions written on your face.''

''And who is now talking about reading, sir?'' the famous Gryffindor courage had a tendency to show up when it was least required.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' Snape said coldly.

''Hey, that's not fair!'' Harry protested.

''Ten points from Gryffindor,'' the Potions Master went on. ''I suggest you think before opening up your mouth, Potter,'' he warned.

Harry opened up his mouth, but closed it resigned, knowing well he was in no position to win.

''Wise decision. Now, back to the subject at hand – you have not spoken to your friends about your feelings concerning the war like I had asked you to, have you?''

''What for, sir?'' Harry shrugged non-committaly, hoping it would be enough for the man to drop the matter.

''Because they are your friends, Potter,'' Snape said plainly. ''It is obvious you need someone to get that burden off your chest.''

Harry crossed his arms and looked away. ''They wouldn't understand, anyway. Besides, they don't need my problems, they already have their own.''

''Haven't they accompanied you on your mission? If anyone can understand you, it's them. Apparently, this simple truth is too difficult for you to get through that thick skull of yours.''

''I don't want to talk about it! Sir!'' Harry waved his arms, nearly knocking his cauldron over.

''That may be so, but you need to. Bottling these emotions inside will not do you any good,'' the Potions Master spoke like it was the most obvious conclusion.

''Gosh, do you give this kind of speeches to your Slytherins? If so, I am so glad the Sorting Hat placed me in Gryffindor,'' Harry huffed, but the question remained – why Snape wanted him to talk about it? He wasn't the head of his house and frankly, he couldn't imagine any head of a house encourage their pupil to discuss their issues.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' said the teacher.

''Oh, come on! Don't you ever get bored of it?'' Harry groaned.

Snape looked at him with a challenging expression that read 'try me', but this time he said nothing.

After few irritating moments, Harry gave in. The silence that fell was unbearable. ''Everyone thinks it's about me. You keep always accusing me of wanting fame, the Minister wants me to give speech... Oh, I bet, Skeeter is alreayd working on her next article about me! It is not about me! It is about those who gave their lives opposing Voldemort! I've never wanted it, I've never wanted to be the 'star' or whatever. I can't even go down the Diagon Alley without people approaching me. It's always about Harry Potter, the saviour of wizardkind or someother stupid titles. What about others? What about Hermione, Ron, Neville? What about...'' once Harry started talking the words of frustration poured from him like a flood through a broken levee. ''You?'' the boy briefly looked at the scar on the former spy's neck and then quickly averted his gaze, fidgeting nervously with his fingers. When Harry thought about it, he couldn't recall apologising his teacher for leaving him to die, even though he had apologised for calling Snape a coward. He had never got a chance to apologise Fred, Tonks and Lupin for bringing them into all of this, but Snape was there. Snape who had almost lost his life, loyal even in the most dire circumstances. Harry swallowed, maybe it was the time to amend it. ''I'm sorry, Professor. For leaving you in the Shrieking Shack,'' he added embarrassedly when the older wizard furrowed his eyebrows in question.

''On that matter, you have nothing to apologise for, Potter. I don't think there was anything you could do to help me in that state. I certainly did not expect you to carry me back to the castle,'' Snape reasoned silkily. ''If anything I should be the one to apologise.''

''Sir?'' Harry tilted his head in confusion.

''I should not have given you my memories. By doing so I have betrayed your mother's legacy,'' Snape explained darkly and Harry wondered how many masters can a man serve during a war at one time, when each of them can different agenda.

''You had to. If you haven't done that, Voldemort would have never been defeated!'' Harry argued firmly. The apology was truly absurd. What is the point in apologising for having done the right thing?

Snape massaged his forearm around his Dark Mark. ''Both can be true simultaneously, Potter.'' There was some kind of sorrow in the Potions Master's voice and Harry thought that perhaps having told Harry he needed to die to defeat Voldemort had been as painful to Snape as having been indirectly responsible for his friends' death to Harry. ''I believe we shall call it a day. For the next Friday I want you to prepare an assignment on brewing the Potion for Dreamless Sleep you nearly massacred today.''

''But, sir, you've already tasked us with the Wolfsbane Potion assignment for Monday!''

''Then you have nothing to worry about, Potter. Even if you finish your Monday assignment five minutes before the classes, you are going to have three days to work on your Friday assignment,'' Snape said with an ugly smirk. The git was having fun, wasn't he?

---

It wasn't only Potter that the incoming anniversary had affected. Students whispered to each other more and more often, foolishly thinking the former spy would not overhear their conversations. The staff members also mentioned their lost colleagues more frequently.

Severus tried to keep himself occupied not to succumb into the memories of that dreadful night. The fight with Filius and Minerva. Desperate escape through the window and finally the meeting with the Dark Lord and Nagini's teeth – all his wrongdoings and mistakes had led him to that disastrous moment. And in the moment of his greatest weakness, in the moments he had thought to be his last, had he made the right choice? Potter clearly was doing fine now, but had Severus the right to send Lily's son to his inevitable death, at least according to Dumbledore?

The Potions Master would rather avoid the ceremony altogether. Regretfully, he was the head of Slytherin, not for much longer hopefully, and as such he was forced to attend it.

On 2^nd of May, he had led his Slytherins to the Great Hall, the place where the Dark Lord had perished one year ago this day. He watched his serpentine students enter the Hall with discontent painted on their faces. They walked in fully aware they were the villains of the day. Other teachers also waited next to the Great Hall's entrance, making sure all students attended the ceremony.

''Well, Severus, it would appear you are not too excited for the event,'' Pomona pointed out good-heartedly.

''Are you, Pomona?'' Severus deadpanned.

''Come, lets leave our friend to his favourite sulking,'' Filius smirked, waving at the Herbology teacher.

''It would appear all Slytherins are inside, aren't you coming, Severus?'' the Headmistress asked.

''I'm coming. I simply require a few more seconds,'' he assured.

Soon the only people remaining in the corridor were Severus and Sybill, renowned for her disdain for public meetings.

''Shouldn't you go and look after your Slytherins, eavesdropper?'' the Divination teacher scoffed.

''Yes, I think I will go,'' he answered as he felt bony fingers tighter around his wrist. Severus looked to his left at Sybill's wide-opened eyes behind her bug-like glasses that stared into something beyond. Oh, no, he instinctively thought, knowing what was coming.

''Beware the unseen...'' Treelawney spoke in a voice that did not belong to her. Severus tried to yank his wrist from her grip, not wanting to hear another prophecy from Sybill's mouth. The last time he had heard it, it had led to tragedy and he was not taking any chances. However, Sybill's iron grip wouldn't let him go. ''It will come for you when the sea calms down after a storm... Its... strike... shall... defy... the enemy...'' she croaked. Then she coughed and blinked stupefied. ''Get off me, you eavesdropper!'' she retreated her hand as if she thought it was Severus who was holding her.

''Is everything alright?'' Minerva sternly looked at her subordinates.

''Everything is in the best order, Minerva. I was just coming,'' Severus spoke plainly and crossed the threshold of the Great Hall, but Sybill's words were already engraved in his memory. He must not tell anyone this time, he decided seething inside.

On the podium stood Kingsley Shacklebolt with his intertwined hands resting on his stomach. The Minister waited for the Headmistress to join him. The Minister looked around the crowd consisting not only of students, but also of the defenders of Hogwarts. It would appear a half of wizarding Britain was present in the Hall. ''Thank you all for gathering here, today. I would also like to give my gratitude to the Headmistress of Hogwarts for allowing the Ministry to house this gathering in this special place. It is a bittersweet occasion we have all come here. We want to celebrate the anniversary of the Lord Voldemort's fall. Yes, it is the name we have long learnt to fear,'' he said as wizards and witches cringed and some cowered at the sound of the once tabooed name. ''For decades we have talked about 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' and 'You-Know-Who'. No more! We should not fear the name of Lord Voldemort for he is not returning. The man born as Tom Marvolo Riddle had met his demise one year ago today at the hand of Harry Potter and for that you shall have the wizarding world's eternal gratitude,'' Kingsley looked at The-Boy-Who-Lived and surprisingly enough, Severus hasn't even scoffed. ''However, we want also to mourn the loss of our loved ones who had sacrificed their lives in the battle and in the war. I would like to ask you to stand up and honour their memory with a minute of silence.'' After a longer moment of silence the Minister continued. ''Thank you. Just like the wounds of our bodies have not all healed, just like the scars of our souls remain, this castle we all hold dear to our hearts has also suffered in the war. The damages done to the castle are still being repaired. And I say this with hope in my heart: may our scars heal just like Hogwarts walls will be healed. May we find joy and comfort in the thought that our children and grandchildren are never going to find out how it is to leave under a cruel regime.''

Sobs were audible in the Hall. Nevertheless, people enthusiastically rewarded Kingsley's speech with a loud applaud.

''Now, I would like to invite Harry Potter on podium,'' the Minister asked and the boy went paler in the face. ''And I would also like to ask Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom to join us,'' he added to Severus' surprise.

The Potions Master only slightly raised his eyebrow, showing his sceptism, but stood up as asked and climbed up the stairs until his shoulder was next to Potter's.

''Headmistress, if you could be so kind and join as well?'' When all the invitants were on the podium, the Minister continued. ''You first and foremost are who we owe today's celebration to. For that reason and to honour your couragous deeds I would like to award each one of you with an Order of Merlin of First Class,'' Kingsley said with unconcealed satisfaction. The crowd gasped and then cheered for the elite group on the podium. Minerva smiled kindly looking at her colleague and clapping.

Naturally, the Minister started with Potter. He pinned the order on boy's chest and showered him with words of gratitude. Words that Severus knew they were spoken with honesty. Then the dark-skinned wizard stood in front of Severus. ''Please take this order and wear it with dignity it deserves,'' he shook Severus hands and added. ''I am glad the Wizengamot had made the right choice. For all that has happened, I have long forgiven you and I ask for your forgiveness, Severus.''

''Be assured I have never held a grudge against you, Minister. We all played the roles we had to play,'' Severus nodded politely.

''Thank you,'' Kingsley replied with a courteous nod before moving on to Hermione Granger.

When the order was awared to Longbottom, the crowd clapped loudly and some even showed their approval whistling.

As he was heading for the staircase to return to his place among the crowd, Severus whispered to the saviour of the wizardkind, now equipped with a matching badge. ''Do not be mistaken, Potter. I now it is your doing.''

The brat smirked smugly like he did when he was up to mischief. ''Well, sir, at least this time no one is going to take it away from you.''

Severus grimaced. The audacity of the brat. ''Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter.'' The brat did not seem to be worried about his house' points tanking. Severus could feel Molly Weasley's disapproving glare.

''Furthermore, I would like to posthumously award the an Order of Merlin of First Class to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Lupin,'' Kingsley announced.

---

Once Shacklebolt awarded Second Class Order of Merlin to the protectors of the castle who had not played such a profound role in the war, among them Ginny and Luna, the guests were left free to roam around the Great Hall and gossip.

''It kinds sucks they're holding the commemoration on Sunday. Couldn't they move it to Monday? Maybe they would have cancelled classes?'' Ron sighed dramily.

''We're only a little bit over a month from the exams! We can't afford to skip classes!'' Hermione protested.

''By the way, did Snape take away our points?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows at the Potions Master.

''Yeah,'' Harry shrugged non-commitally.

''Ah, the git is still a git. I wouldn't worry about him, he's having a bad day, apparently. I saw him arguing with Trelawney in front of the Hall,'' said Dean Thomas.

''More like a bad life,'' Ron muttered and Harry thought that Ron wasn't aware how true his statement was.

''Hip hip hurray!'' Seamus Finnigan screamed enthusiastically, joining his former classmates.

''There you are, guys! Congrats, well deserved!'' Parvati Patil.

''Uh, I don't know about mine,'' Neville looked insecurily at the order on his chest.

''Oh, stop it, Neville,'' Hermione shook her head.

''Oh, I cannot believe that man was awarded an order!'' Mrs. Weasley spoke loudly with outrage clear with her voice, making sure her words reached the recipient.

''Mum, could you please?'' Ron begged tiredly, trying to stop his mother from being an embarrassment.

Chapter Text

Aside from the newest commemoration May brought the unmistakable scent to the Hogwarts – the scent of fifth-years preparing for O.W.L.s and seventh-years preparing for N.E.W.T.s. Severus found the repetitiveness of the ordeal awfully dull. However, awareness this would be the last cycle Severus was about to take part in helped alleviate the feeling of boredom. He had agreed to take the post of Potions Master once again fully aware he was not going to stay there much longer and the school year that was nearing to its end had only reaffirmed his resolution. The only problem was the fact he has not informed the Headmistress yet.

Once Potions with third-year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class was over, Severus let his feet carry him upstairs towards the Transfiguration classroom.

''Professor, I have caught two troublemakers,'' Severus march was interrupted on the first floor by Filch smiling with sadistical pleasure. The Potions Master would have felt sorry for the man if he wasn't so pathetic.

''Then find them suitable punishment,'' Severus grimaced, not feeling like talking with the man.

''I was hoping you would take care of them, Professor,'' Argus said presenting the teacher two students that he was holding by the collar of their robes, as if he was presenting carcasses after a particularly successful hunt.

Severus only briefly glanced at the students. They could not have been older than second-years. ''I do not have the time now, Argus,'' he said walking away.

The relief on students' faces quickly disappeared as Filch jerked them, urging them to walk towards his storeroom.

Severus scoffed. This was one amongst the many reasons he was not going to miss his job. He picked up on his walk down the corridors.

''Oh, where you may be heading in such a haste, do you require a company of a poltergeist?'' Peeves spotted the Potions Master.

Great, that was exactly what Severus needed right now. ''No, I do neither require nor desire your company,'' Severus said harshly.

''In faul mood is our good Snivelly, what does he need to make him merry?'' naturally, poltergeist wasn't easy to get rid of once he picked his victim. Severus decided the best solution was ignoring Peeves. ''Some people say silence is gold, to this I say: it is mold!'' Peeves tried again and grimaced receiving no reaction. ''Wizengamot set you free, tell me, professor, what did you trade for your liberty? Shining order and honours they awarded you, I wonder: who you truly are do they have a clue?'' Peeves gritted his teeth and turned around, leaving Severus alone, when he spotted a pair of students, most likely having found new victims to torment.

The staircase leading to the second floor was behind the right turn. Luckily, Severus met there the Headmistress walking downstairs. He turned around, joining his superior.

''Why do I have a feeling you want something from me, Severus?'' the elderly witch eyed him sceptically.

''Perhaps the reason behind this feeling is its verity,'' the former spy raised an eyebrow. ''If you are amenable, I wish to speak to you in private.''

Minerva sighed. ''You'll make this poor old witch walk up and down the stairs? Very well, I am amenable,'' she said with the glint in her eyes, betraying her amusement with their conversation. Yes, this was going one of few things he was going to miss. ''After you,'' she gracefully gestured up to the second floor.

Severus pace matched Minerva's one. She was a powerful witch, but it was true her movements weren't as swift as they used to be.

The Headmistress stopped in front of the gargoyle. ''Puffapod,'' she said and the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase. ''So, Severus, what is it?'' she asked when they reached the top of the staircase. ''Just don't tell me it's about Potter again,'' she added pressing the doorknob.

''Surprisingly, it's not about your favourite cub this time, Minerva,'' he said stepping inside the office. The office that used to be his own for nearly a year, he thought looking around the circular room and the so familiar portraits and useless trinkets. Minerva had restored the office to its former glory of Albus' reign. ''I wished to let you know with due advance that I am going to empty the Potions Master's post,'' he looked at his superior. ''Don't worry, I'm going to stay until the end of term.''

Minerva didn't look surprised by the news, maybe only slightly saddened. ''I suppose that there is nothing I can do to change your mind?''

Severus faux-pondered for a moment. ''You could offer me the DADA post and then we can discuss my stay.''

Minerva eyed him unamused. ''You know well, Severus, that I can't do that. It would be unfair towards Jocasta.''

''Then I'm afraid there is nothing that would be capable of keeping me in this place,'' Severus said matter-of-factly. ''The past year made me realise that despite the change in circumstances I still have a strong dislike towards this profession.'' His own insincerity towards the person that perhaps was his only living true friend disgusted him. However, he couldn't tell Minerva the whole truth as to why he had agreed to stay one more year in the first place. It wasn't his to share and Lily wasn't there to decide. ''There is nothing that would keep me attached to this castle anymore.'' At least that bit would become true with Potter's graduation.

Minerva inhaled slowly and nodded hesitantly. ''If that is your last word, I accept your resignation,'' she said and Severus saw a shadow of sadness behind her glasses. A thought passed through his mind that probably there was no other person among the staff that understood Severus better than Minerva and maybe the privilege was mutual. Even though they came from the opposite houses, the two teachers in many aspects were similar. ''But know this – you will always find home between these walls, Severus.''

''Thank you, Minerva. It means a lot to me,'' the statement came a bit stiffly, but he truly meant it this time – it felt good to be accepted and to belong somewhere if you had not belonged anywhere for the majority of your life.

''I think I won't be speaking out of turn if I say on behalf of all the portraits we will always welcome you with open arms,'' said Albus' portrait.

Severus' mood was ruined by the warm smile on Albus' face – Severus desired to wipe that smile of the portrait's face. ''I'm afraid Horace will be less than thrilled to hear about this,'' the former spy added with a scowl.

''Poor man deserves a retirement,'' Minerva agreed.

''I am sure there are more wizards and witches capable of teaching Potions than just the two of us,'' Severus noted.

---

The upside of being too preoccupied with studying for exams was the lack of time to feel nostalgic about leaving the school. Usually, Hermione losing her mind about assignments and exams annoyed Harry, but this time he sympathised with his bookworm friend. Harry had no idea how she managed to keep tabs on all the subjects (and without a timeturner this time). He only had five of them and he already was feeling like a hamster in a wheel, while Ron in those rare moments of respite in the Gryffindor common room looked like he was about to melt into the couch. And to make things worse every teacher kept reminding them their future depended on the results of their exams, as if they weren't already petrified by the vision of N.E.W.T.s. Figuratively speaking, of course.

At least Harry and his friends weren't the only people too busy studying to waste their time on other activities – Dennis' torment of young Slytherins became less frequent as the younger Gryffindor was preparing for his O.W.L.s. Eusebius was less often seen in school's corridors as well. Harry supposed every bad situation had its positive outcomes.

Hermione's least favourite school activity threw a wrench in her plans to make her boyfriend study more diligently. She wasn't shy to voice her disapproval for the date of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match.

''Why couldn't the match be held in April?'' Hermione huffed as Ron was packing his Quidditch equipment.

''Because of the spring break?'' Ron said flatly as if it was the most obvious reason.

''The spring break doesn't last the whole April!'' Hermione protested. ''The exams start in two weeks! We should be studying, not sitting on the stadium seats!''

Harry watched the squabble with amusement, slightly disappointed he was not going to take part in the match. The closer the exams were, the more he wondered if he had made the right choice to pick the extra Potions instead of Quidditch. He wasn't entirely sure he was making progress quickly enough to pass the Potions N.E.W.T. However, if his progress were graded by the drop in Snape's remarks about Harry's incompetence, then maybe he still had a chance.

''To be fair, Slytherin and Hufflepuff had their match two weeks ago, so it's not like we are special,'' Harry reminded.

Ginny threw her Quidditch gloves at unsuspecting Hermione. ''If you don't like the Quidditch so much, go to the library and study,'' she huffed, putting on her Quidditch robe. Then she took the gloves back from Hermione's hands. ''Let's go, Ron, we've got no time to waste.''

''I'll see you in the stadium, right?'' Harry smiled at his girlfriend after a brief good-luck kiss.

Hermione glanced at Harry reluctantly, but not wanting to turn out as an uncaring girlfriend, she kissed Ron. ''I know you are going to show your best. But tomorrow there will be no excuses,'' she warned.

The Weasleys went to meet with the rest of the team before the match, while Harry and Hermione headed for the Quidditch pitch. Walking past the Fat Lady they bumped into Luna dressed like a red-and-blue jester.

''I was hoping to meet you, guys,'' the blonde said absent-mindedly.

''Uh, nice outfit,'' Hermione forced herself to compliment their wildly creative friend.

''Thank you, Hermione. I couldn't decide whether I should support Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, so I decided to support both,'' she smiled dreamily.

''That's very thoughtful of you,'' Harry nodded for the lack of better idea. Luna's mind wandered down the paths unknown to the majority, but despite her strangeness she was a dear friend. He recalled the painting in Luna's room and felt ashamed for having ever thought badly about her. ''We should go if we want to catch a good spot.''

The weather was unusually delightful for a Quidditch match. Apparently, it wasn't enough. Despite Gryffindor's best efforts, the Ravenclaw won when their Seeker caught the Snitch, scoring in total two hundred and thirty points to Gryffindor's one hundred and eighty points.

''What a bummer!'' Ron sneered when he was joined by his friends. ''I'd never thought we'd lose to Ravenclaw!'' he crossed his arms and glared at Luna. ''It's because of you. Why didya wear blue?'' Ginny visibly deflated and shook her head disapprovingly.

''Would it make you feel better if you had lost to Hufflepuff?'' Hermione asked with a smug smirk on her lips. Ron inhaled sharply as his face turned white and then red, earning him a laugh from all the four other students.

''Well, not all is lost,'' Ginny concluded, trying to lift her own mood up after the defeat. ''We still have a chance at winning the cup.''

The last week of May was also the last week of classes. The realisation this would be the last time he was taught by McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout felt somehow unreal, like it was a kind of dream. Not necessarily a nightmare, mind you, but something intangible like a vision about to vanish into thin air within a seconds.

''Close your books,'' McGonagall said. ''We have reached the end of this journey. There's nothing more this book can teach you,'' she grabbed her copy of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration and showed it to her class. ''Next two weeks are going to be the most stressful in your entire student career. Remember that you are granted a week off before your exams to properly prepare for your N.E.W.T.s. Next week is not a week for leisure – you are going to have two weeks for that before the graduation ceremony. However, I am certain that all the students who have attended my classes will pass the N.E.W.T. with respectable marks. There will be more time for goodbyes during the graduation ceremony, but as your teacher and as the Headmistress I wanted to wish you the best of luck.''

After the class Hermione urged her friends to go to the library to study before her final Arithmancy and their final Potions. Or at very least the final standard Potions, in Harry's case. However, it was a thing Harry was not going to let Hermione have an upper hand. The girl might have wanted to spend their last May in Hogwarts in the library, but Harry preferred to savour the delightful weather and sit under the tree in the school's patio with Ginny. And with books and his notebooks – as much as he'd like to, there was no escape from studying. Now when he thought about it, N.E.W.T.s meant the end of studying and the sooner they came, the sooner it would be all over. It was like waiting for a storm or some kind of cataclysm to come only to wait for its end, weirdly comforting in its fatalistic way. Maybe it was an echo of his last year's mission that left its mark on his psyche.

Snape wasn't as kind in his farewell as the Transfiguration teacher, to nobody's surprise. ''This is where your education in Hogwarts ends. As you should be aware, not all of you would have spent your final year exploring the intricacies of the subtle art of Potioneering if not for my predecessor's graciousness. I have put my best efforts into trying to teach the lot of you this delicate art, however, your fate lies within your hands. Now you are going to regret the moment you drifted away when I walked through the Veritaserum recipe. Now you are going to wish you have listened when the Golpalott's Third Law was discussed. Your only hope is that your friends have noted down more dutifully. The book,'' Snape gestured at the Advanced Potion-Making. ''Is riddled with mistakes. Following it will give you an E at best.''

''Man, I already feel much more confident about my Potions N.E.W.T,'' Ron whispered and Harry chuckled.

''Weasley, is there something you want to share with the class? If that is so, I advise you do it quick – there will be no more chances as this is your last time in this classroom, praise Merlin,'' the Potions Master said icily. Then teacher's eyes landed on Harry as if he wanted to remind the boy that in his case it wasn't their last meeting in the classroom.

Ron cleared his throat. ''No, sir,'' he said sheepishly.

On the opposite side of the spectrum to the strict Transfiguration and Potions teachers were Charms and Herbology teachers, who spent their last classes teary-eyed, reminiscing the moments when a bunch of first-years first walked into their classrooms with eyes full of wonder and hungry for knowledge. Harry felt like the last part wasn't directed at him – he's never felt particularly hungry for knowledge, especially for the Herbology.

O'Cathail didn't have the baggage of sending numerous generations of students into the world. In her speech she was more straightforward, laying down the aims for her students. Harry wouldn't be surprised if she had talked that way to her Auror trainees.

Finally, the day of his last extra Potions arrived. Harry didn't know how to feel about it – on one hand not having Snape as his teacher was something to look forward to, but on the other hand he owed so much to the man. And he didn't want to admit it aloud, but Snape was much more tolerable when it was just the two of them, like the teacher didn't feel the pressure to ridicule Harry. Moreover, no one in their right mind would deny that Snape was an awfully knowledgeable man.

''I see you have decided to turn up in a more timely manner, Potter. I am astonished,'' the man said drily. ''Open up your book on page 328. Today you are going to revise Veritaserum.''

Harry hastily obliged, putting his bag on the edge of his desk. Just as he was taking out the book, the bag slid down to the floor with a cacophony of its contents clashing against each other. The boy closed his eyes at the noise. ''Sorry,'' he muttered embarrassedly.

Snape sighed tiredly and his face clearly read he was done with Harry's antics. Oh, the Potions Master must have been counting minutes until the end of this very last class with The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Having cleaned up the mess on the floor, Harry returned to his book opened on the page 328. He skimmed through the list of ingredients and headed for the cabinet. Addler's fork, Boomslang skin, moondew, poppy and sage.

Snape looked at the items gathered on his student's desk. ''You may begin brewing the potion. I will refrain from giving you any instructions. For the sake of this lesson, pretend I am a N.E.W.T. examiner.''

Harry glanced at his teacher, who was standing few meters away with his arms crossed. He poured a cup of water into the cauldron and lit up the fire beneath it. Then he got to mincing Boomslang's skin. Maybe it was a good idea to do a review on Veritaserum, but he couldn't really see the point in featuring this potion as an exam task. There's no way it could be finished within a span of an exam since it needed a lunar cycle to mature. But, on the other hand, only a handful of potions were ready to use in a short span of few hours. Now that he thought about it, the potion he was currently brewing would be ready after his graduation, provided that he wasn't going to muck it up, which was rather unlikely.

Harry put the Boomslang's skin into a cauldron and added a pinch of poppy. He glanced insecurely at the recipe. Uh, those stirring patterns were messing with him. Now he needed to stir five times counterclockwise, but once he added Addler's fork he would have to change it to two times clockwise and three times counterclockwise. He was never going to memorise that! He looked at his teacher for some kind of hint, be it scorn or disappointment, but Snape's face remained unreadable.

Actually, the teacher was awfully quiet. Harry had expected Snape to be more talkative during their last lesson. All the teachers made their brief farewell speeches, even the git himself in the standard Potions. But now Snape acted like it was just one of the many lessons with nothing special about it as if there were many more yet to come. Maybe he was simply so done with Harry he didn't even feel like addressing it.

''Put your cauldron on a stasis,'' Snape ordered. Harry looked at him doubtfully, seeing no point in keeping the potion, but decided that perhaps arguing during their last shared lesson wasn't going to leave the best impression. But was there any impression left to protect? ''I expect you to come next week at 4 P.M. sharp.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Did Snape simply forget it was their last lesson? This seemed unlike the former spy. ''Uh, sir, we don't have classes next week,'' Harry cautiously reminded.

''Yes, I am aware, Potter,'' Snape said silkily to Harry's confusion. ''Yet, I would like you to come one last time before your exams. I suppose dedicating your precious time to one Potions class is not going to hinder the efficiency of your study.'' There it was, the trademark sarcasm. Snape certainly was having fun, having waited with the information until the very last moment. But Harry was in no position to decline his teacher's request.

---

Severus was not a traditionalist. He saw nothing wrong with asking Potter to come to the Potions classroom in the week before the N.E.W.T.s, during which seventh-years were traditionally exampted from classes to give them more space for their preparation for their final exams. Naturally, when Jocasta found out she let Minerva know, demanding that Severus cancelled the lesson. Truly, the woman thought too much of herself and her importance. Having spent eight years of his life making sure Potter didn't get himself killed and seven years of them also teaching the brat, he deserved one final lesson with the nuisance, did he not?

And while Minerva quite clearly did not approve Severus' decision, she also related with the Potions Master to some extend. Potter was a special student to all of them, after all. However, the boy was a little more special to some of the teachers than to the others, but Severus' colleagues did not have to be aware of that fact.

On the 4^th of June, Severus was sitting in his classroom. Still his classroom, until the end of the month. He looked at the clock. Five to four. Was the brat going to arrive? He wouldn't put it past Potter to run away from the lesson. It was no secret Severus was boy's least favourite teacher. He felt some kind of tickling in his stomach and he grimaced. He had no reason to feel nervous. It would be just another lesson with the brat. With the only exception being the fact it was the last lesson with the brat. That thought on some low, nearly subconscious level urged him to deny what was about to come. He clenched his fists, angry at himself. He really should not be giving the boy that much thought. If Potter chose not to come, nothing of substance would come out of it. There was absolutely no reason to await him so... impatiently, for the lack of a better word.

Finally, five after four, Potter ran in with a slam of the door. He was gasping heavily. ''Sorry, sir, didn't mean to be late,'' he swallowed loudly between gasps. ''What are we brewing today?'' Gryffindor asked putting his bag on the desk.

''Nothing, Potter,'' Severus stood up and took a step in the boy's direction.

''Nothing?'' the brat crunched up his nose.

''It is our last lesson. Brewing would be counterproductive. Instead I have prepared a set of written assignments,'' Severus laid a sheet of parchment in front of the student. The disappointment on Potter's face at the sight of task concerning Golpalott's laws was evident. ''It would be advisable to revise the theoretical side of Potions before the exam.''

Potter huffed, but slid the parchment closer to familiarise himself with the exercises. Then a let down exhale followed and the student scratched his head as his forehead wrinkled in effort. Naturally, Severus had forseen the boy was about to forget by now the material he had covered back in February. Potions Master's hand reached inside his pocket and touched a stack of sheets of parchment, checking if it was still there.

When Severus had been writing down some notes this week preparing for his classes, he had realised they were not unlike the notes he had been making while having been studying for his own exams many years ago. Tips of his slender fingers brushed the parchment in his pocket as he was torn in two minds.

After a moment Potter returned the parchment with tasks with resignation. Severus swiftly took it from boy's hands and his gaze scanned the parchment. Having reached for his wand, the teacher Accio'ed his quill and began crossing the wrong answers out. ''Well, Potter, I hope you intend to do better on your N.E.W.T. You solved only the half of exercises correctly,'' he said flatly.

The brat groaned in frustration. ''I'm trying, sir! I can't help I'm not as good at Potions as my mum!'' he waved his arms in an uncoordinated manner. ''I guess I take it after my dad... he wasn't good at Potions, right?''

'You take your pitiful lack of skill at Potions after no one,' passed through Severus' mind. ''Yes, Potions was one of the few subject James Potter was not a shining star at,'' he spoke sourly instead. He felt the parchment in his pocket. The boy wasn't James Potter. He wasn't even James Potter's, his mind urged. The man once again reached inside the pocket of his robe and took out the stack of parchment. ''However, you can still make an attempt at outrunning your incompetence. Take this,'' he offered the boy his notes. Severus' days as the teacher were counted either way and soon he was not going to need his notes. Merlin knew the boy needed them now much more than Severus was ever going to. Potter raised his green eyes filled with questions. ''These are my notes. I am aware the Potions N.E.W.T. is taking place next Thursday, so I do not expect you to familiarise yourself with them in their entirety. However, I do hope they will aid you in your studies.''

Potter blinked startled, but once he processed the words, he accepted the parchment warily. ''Are you sure, sir?''

''I would not be offering you my notes, if I were not sure, would I?''

''Thank you, I-'' the boy hesitated, his lips were moving soundlessly as he was looking for words.

''However, in return I would like to ask you to write me a letter informing about your performance once you receive the results,'' Severus said smoothly. Having dedicated eight years of his life to the brat, he deserved to find out what kind of result his efforts brought, did he not?

''But-!'' the brat wanted to protest, but then the cogs in his head started turning as he began calculating the more beneficial scenario. Which almost, almost, brought a smirk to Severus' lips. Merlin, Potter would have made a disastrous Slytherin. Gryffindor looked at the notes in his hand again. ''Fine,'' he nodded reluctantly.

''Moreover, I can offer to tutor you this summer in my home in Cokeworth, should you wish to prepare for the Auror training programme entrance exam,'' as soon as Severus shut his mouth he realised what he had just said. He did not know what force had prompted him to make this offer to the brat. He had just stepped into a dangerous path and needed to tread it with the utmost caution. Some parts of his mind screamed 'Retreat!' and 'Do not get attached', but the words had been said and it was too late to take them back without raising Potter's attention.

''Uh, thanks?'' Potter wrinkled his nose in confusion.

Maybe there was nothing to worry about, Severus concluded. There was no chance Potter would willingly spend his free time studying with the Potions Master. And once Potter was out of school there would be nothing that would be capable of forcing Potter to accept Severus' recklessly made offer.

''One more thing before you walk out the door for the last time,'' Severus went on. ''During the exam go by the book and follow the recipies with the utmost precision. Do not try to get creative – the exam is not a place for experiments. I would not recommend improvising in an exam even to a Potions virtuoso, and as we have already established countless times, you are not one.'' Potter tiredly looked at his teacher, not enjoying hearing once again that his Potions skills were abysmal. ''Forget all the shortcuts I have shown you this semester – the commission is not going to appreciate them. Revise the material and you should do decently.''

''Yeah, I'll try, sir,'' Potter nodded, packing up his bag. ''I suppose this is the moment I head out,'' he pointed at the door insecurily. ''Thanks for these past eight years, professor,'' the boy said in a manner that suggested there was much more to be said and yet it all was captured in that one brief sentence.

''Potter,'' Severus called when the brat was standing at the door, ready to leave. The boy turned around and Severus looked into those green eyes probably for the last time from such a proximity. His stomach squeezed a bit at the thought he was never going to see Lily's eyes this closely again. ''Good luck.''

Gryffindor looked away embarrassedly, probably taken off guard. ''Well, I guess N.E.W.T.s can't be worse than battling Voldemort, right?'' he recovered quickly with a mischievous glint in his green eyes. ''Goodbye, professor.''

---

Frankly, as the week went by, Harry wasn't so sure anymore if studying wasn't as bad as fighting Voldemort. Going through all the books and notes was a true struggle. He looked once more at Snape's notes he had stuffed inside his copy of the Advanced Potion-Making. The notes looked so familiar, sometimes he thought the only thing lacking was a description reading 'The property of the Half-Blood Prince'. There was no doubt the author was the Half-Blood Prince instead of the greasy git. Now he wondered how had he not recognised the swirly in a feminine way handwriting, which he had seen in Snape's memory of an O.W.L. (and what had followed afterwards) and countless times in red ink on his Potions assignments. Harry chuckled quietly. He had lost Snape's book, but the teacher had given him his notes in its place. Not to mention he had done it voluntarily. World was a place full of surprises.

The first exam to arrive was Herbology held on Monday. Truthfully, it was not as difficult as Harry had anticipated – one of the tasks in the theoretical part of the exam was listing the properties of asphodel, so he knew he got at least one exercise right.

Charms took place on Tuesday. Harry wasn't too pleased with the fact that the Anti-Alohomora Charm worked only on the second attempt. Still he had done better than Ron who cast the charm correctly on his third try with a panic written all over his face. It went without saying that Hermione killed it on her first try.

Wednesday belonged to Transfiguration. Ginny had a bit of an issue with the Toad to Toadstool spell as the mushroom started jumping around to the girl's horror. Meanwhile, valves on Harry's freshly transfigured trumped looked like made of tortoise shell. Which, in a way, they were.

Then on Thursday seventh-years were battling against the Potions N.E.W.T. which was split into two parts – theoretical and practical. Harry felt his hands getting sweaty as Golpalott's First Law lay in front of him. Glancing around the room he noticed his schoolmates weren't too overjoyed with their written exam either. How lucky he was Snape had made him revise Golpalott's laws last week. Harry was pretty certain, and he admitted it to himself rather unwillingly, that without Snape's interference he wouldn't have remembered a thing of it. Maybe the teacher had known the examination exercises beforehand? In the practical part Harry had a bit of shadenfreude seeing Eusebius singe his eyebrows in an attempt at brewing the Draught of Living Death.

The week ended with DADA, which also was divided into two parts. Harry had never been a fan of theory, much more prefering putting things into use. What was the point in listing dementors' characteristics when he knew how to fend them off?

Having landed nearly lifeless on his bed, Harry concluded that his N.E.W.T.s in some ways came out better than his O.W.L.s as he had not passed out during any N.E.W.T., which could not been said about the History O.W.L.

However, the days past his last N.E.W.T. were a bliss. No classes, no assignments and all the time in the world to wander around the castle and drink butterbeer in Hogsmeade. Or at least, so it seemed. The graduation was getting closer dreadfully fast and for the first time in his life he was not looking forward to the end of the school year. He wanted for this undisturbed happiness to last forever. Alas, all things must come to an end.

The day before the end-of-the-year feast the trio headed for Hagrid's hut one last time. The half-giant was waiting for them on the bench in front of his hut. Fang excitedly wiggled his tail.

''Ah, I was beginnin' ter worry yeh were not gonna come, yeh rascals!'' Hagrid cried, locking three Gryffindors in his tight embrace.

''Oh, Hagrid, did you truly imagine we would not come to see you?'' Hermione sighed softly.

The half-giant set them free and blew his nose into his sleeve, making Ron cringe. Harry jabbed the red-head, afraid Hagrid was about to see the disgust on Ron's face for the ooze on Hagrid's sleeve.

''I know, I'm stupid old man,'' Hagrid sniffed.

''You're not stupid, don't even say that!'' Harry protested.

''Yeah, those who think you are stupid are stupid!'' Ron added, catching up with Harry's spirit.

Hagrid looked at the students, moved to the core by their loyalty. With a sigh he returned to the bench and patted the wood, inviting Gryffindors to join him. With sorrow in his eyes he looked at the castle. ''This place' not gonna be the same without yeh,'' he said quietly. ''But, well,'' he clapped his massive hands against his even more massive thighs. ''I knew this day had ter come, sooner or later. Can't keep yeh here forever, can I?''

Hermione rubbed Hagrid's arm. ''We're going to miss you too, Hagrid.''

''Promise yer gonna write?'' Hagrid looked to his left at Harry and to his right at Ron and Hermione.

''Of course! We've already told you so!'' Harry smiled, hoping to offer his half-giant friend some consolation, even though his heart was aching too.

The entire Great Hall was buzzing with students' conversations, whispers and murmurs. Hogwarts' students were on tenterhooks, awaiting the house cup results. Finally, McGonagall rose from her chair in the middle of the staff's table and clapped her hands, demanding silence.

''I am pleased to welcome all of you on the last feast of this term. The past year has been a time of recuperation. Although, it has not been a time without its own challenges, I would like to thank you as the school's community for facing them together. The process of healing is not finished yet and it will not be for the next few years, whether we are talking about the walls of the castle or the wounds left in our community. However, it is my belief that we will rise from our struggles even stronger and more united than before. And I have in mind all four houses, the staff and our ghosts. Now the time has come for what we all have been waiting for – the Quidditch cup and house cup results. I am pleased to announce that the winner of this year's Quidditch cup is Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is close behind, earning the second place. The third place belongs to Slytherin! And last, but not least, Hufflepuff on the fourth place!''

Gryffindor table roared with joy at the news. Ginny puffed her chest, being the proud Quidditch team captain that she was.

''Congrats, guys, you deserve that!'' Harry grinned at the two red-heads like a Cheshire cat.

''Now, wait for it,'' Ron narrowed his eyes. ''Winning house cup should be piece of cake...''

''Don't count your chickens before they hatch,'' Hermione warned.

''As for the house cup,'' the Headmistress said loudly enough for her voice to cut through the animated discussion the students were having right now. Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked at her. ''The fourth place belongs to Hufflepuff!'' a murmur of disappointment filled the Hall. ''On the third place is Slytherin! On the second place – Gryffindor. This year's house cup belongs to Ravenclaw!'' she clapped her hands and the Great Hall was decorated with blue and bronze banners of Ravenclaw.

''Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw!'' yelled the students, mostly the Ravenclaws themselves. Flitwick has not looked this proud in years.

''What? How?!'' if it could, Ron's jaw would have hit the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''They simply earnt more points.''

Harry embarrassedly scratched the back of his neck, having a feeling the points Snape had taken away from Gryffindor to punish Harry had played their role. He couldn't help but to sympathise with Ron as part of him expected last minute extra points for Gryffindor. Dumbledore would have found extra points to award them. Apparently, McGonagall, despite being a Gryffindor herself was not going to exercise this advantage.

''But we've won the Quidditch cup!'' Ron bargained.

''And Ravenclaw was second,'' Ginny pointed out.

McGonagall spoke again, demanding attention once again. ''As we are nearing the end of this part of the feast, I wanted to wish you safe holiday and rest. And to our seventh-years I wish many successes in all of your endeavours. I believe each one of you has a bright future awaiting you outside the walls of the castle. And finally – bon appetit!'' the Headmistress spoke as the dishes appeared in front of the hungry flock of students.

Ron's hurt Gryffindor pride used to winning the house cup was forgotten as soon as the red-head stuffed his mouth with shepherd's pie.

Harry was enthusiastically devouring his own portion of the pie. Having a feeling Snape's black eyes were drilling holes into him, he turned his head to look at the man and furrowed his eyebrows. Was it... a pendant on Snape's chest? Harry couldn't quite tell from the distance but a small green and silver shiny thing looked like a pendant. Probably a Slytherin pendant. Well, that was something new. He couldn't recall Snape wearing it before. Or any other head of a house wearing a pendant with their house' emblem. Maybe Snape was so happy about Harry leaving Hogwarts he decided to manifest his celebration with this special pendant?

After a moment Harry realised he was staring at the Potions Master and the staring match between both of them made him uneasy. He quickly averted his gaze and looked at the ceiling instead. He was never again going to see the beautiful sky-like celing of Hogwart's Great Hall, he thought ruefully.

''Ah, seventh-years,'' Nearly Headless Nick sighed. ''It is always so sad to see you go.''

---

The day after the leaving feast the first-years to sixth-year students headed for the carriages, while the seventh-years and their teachers gathered at the shore of the Great Lake. The graduation ceremony was much smaller and quieter than the end-of-term feast. Students were standing by the wooden podium, wearing their best robes. Minerva, standing in the middle of the podium, unrolled a scroll with students' names and read them aloud, starting with the best students. It came as a surprise to no one that the first person to be called to the podium was Hermione Granger. Once the Headmistress was finished with handing over the summa cum laude diplomas, she began reading out other names.

Severus felt the weight of the pendant against his neck, even though it was not heavy. When his colleagues learnt he was quitting the job, they had decided to throw him a farewell party before the leaving ceremony. Not only they had brought a cake, but also they had gifted him an exquisite silver Slytherin pendant inlaid with emerald. Naturally, they had not wanted to hear Severus' protests that he could not possibly accept such an expensive gift. And so Severus had no other option but to wear it for both ceremonies, to show his colleagues his gratitude. At least Minerva had respected his wish not to inform the entire school that he was leaving.

The heads of houses led their students to the boats awaiting them on the shore. Severus shook hands with his Slytherins, wishing them successful results of their exams and addressing each of his Slytherins by their name. While he disliked the job, he had always made sure to keep tabs on his Slytherins and to fulfil his duty of the head of Slytherin with due care.

When the heads of houses were done with their farewells, the students boarded the enchanted boats. Hagrid wept loudly, waving at four Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. Severus watched the frames of students in the distance become smaller and smaller, his gaze wandering back and forth from his Slytherins to The-Boy-Who-Lived and if he were honest with himself, part of him hoped this was not the last time he saw the brat.

Chapter Text

Severus Apparated by the banks of the river. It was a good place for the usage of magic as Cokeworth's citizens, who were already small in numbers, tended to avoid it. In the worst scenario a bunch of kids would spot the wizard, but adults would put the blame for the stories of a man appearing out of nowhere on kids' wild imagination. Yes, he could have utitised the Floo Network, but Severus was in no rush to arrive at his house at Spinner's End.

The man was grateful it was summer – while he had rarely spent winters in Cokeworth in the nearly twenty past years, he vividly remembered from the days of his childhood the chimneys polluting the air, which resulted in a thick smog that had made it difficult to breathe. Spinner's End's inhabitants, too poor to afford good quality coal, had typically warmed their houses with the most sulphur-heavy coal. Following the years of the predicament, the pollution had seeped into the bricks, leaving them darkened and dirty.

Per usual, having stepped inside Severus was met with the sight of furniture and floor covered with a fine blanket of dust. Ah, yes, the beginning of summer, the retired teacher thought tiredly as he put down his trunk. He took his wand and started cleaning the dusty mess of his house.

Once he was done with the ground floor, he climbed upstairs to the first floor, levitating his trunk behind him. He opened the door leading to his bedroom and a creature inside the room hastily shifted its form. Finally the creature assumed a form of Harry Potter lying on the floor without a sign of life with his green eyes wide open and unseeing. Splendid, not only his house was all covered in dust, it was also Boggart-infested, so it seemed.

Severus scowled infuriated by the display of his greatest fear in front of him and hissed ''Riddikulus!''

The boggart in the form of Harry Potter got up, his round glasses askew. ''The Draught of Living Death is made of Boomslang's skin, Hermione's nail and Ron's hair. It should be stirred twenty times counterclockwise until it gets burnt,'' the boggart spoke in the boy's voice with the most ridiculous, absent-minded smile on his face.

''One million points from Gryffindor, Potter!'' Severus grimaced. ''Just when I thought you could not take me by surprise with your impertinence and stupidity you still managed to astonish me. Detention!'' he said opening the window.

Boggart looked with fright in Potter's eyes at the wizard and swifting its form, flew out the window.

Severus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, waiting for his heart hammering in his chest to slow down. It was only natural the Dark Lord was not his greatest fear anymore, he told himself. The Dark Lord had been dead for over a year. It was perfectly normal for his mind to replace the old fear with a new one, he reasoned, not wanting to dwell on the meaning of this new boggart form.

A few moments later, when his heart slowed down enough, Severus began undusting his bedroom. More or less satisfied with the outcome, he cast a refreshing charm on the bedding stored in the wardrobe. Having crossed off that task from his mental list, with a wave of his wand he made his bed. Then he opened his trunk, ordered his belongings to return to their place in the wardrobe and on shelves. This time permanently instead of the short span of two months, the man realised with a pinch of melancholy looking at his books stacked neatly on the shelf above his bed.

Sitting in the armchair amongst his numerous books in the living room, Severus finally allowed himself to relax after a day spent on bringing his house back to an acceptable state. Still, there was a thought that refused to leave him alone. Since the 30^th of June Draco was a free man. Draco, who had been one of his Slytherins and whose parents naively had put their trust in Severus. The man had reached the point in his life where he did not care what people thought about him a long time ago, so he did not feel particularly saddened by the fact that the Malfoys surely loathed him for his betrayal of the Dark Lord. Yet, he felt he owed something the entitled brat. Maybe in other circumstances Severus would have played the role of the head of Slytherin to his wards in the way that would benefit them and their moral compass more. Maybe he would have done more to get out of their pure-blood heads the very notion of pure-blood supremacy if he had not been forced to hide his true loyalties.

Thus, Severus spent the first evening of his post-Hogwarts life writing a letter to Draco. He was not that delusional to expect a reply from the young Slytherin – Draco had his reasons to condemn his teacher. But maybe Severus was doing it rather for his own peace of mind than for his former pupil.

---

Harry returned to a more or less cleaned 12 Grimmauld Place. Not taking Kreacher by surprise made a huge difference when it came to the state of the house. Normally, Harry would have spent his summer at the Burrow (and at Privet Drive), but being an adult wizard and Hogwarts graduatee, he could not abuse the Weasley clan's kindness.

One of the first things Harry had done in the beginning of July was paying a visit to Tonks and Remus, like he had promised. And then, of course, meeting with Andromeda and Teddy. It scared him how quickly toddlers grew up.

''I wonder when we are going to receive N.E.W.T.s results,'' Hermione bit her nails nervously.

Ron, who was sitting next to his girlfriend on the floor in the Grimmauld Place living room, narrowed his eyes at Hermione. ''Chill, Mione! We've got holidays! We deserve a rest!''

''Actually, we don't have holidays as we are graduatees,'' Hermione pointed out. ''I started looking for a job, but I don't know my chances without knowing my grades,'' she complained.

''Ron's right – if you can't look for a job without N.E.W.T.s results, treat this time as holidays,'' Harry shrugged.

''Oh, it's easy for you, because you have a plan! Speaking of which, shouldn't you be studying for the entrance exam?'' Hermione huffed.

Harry theatrically fell to the floor from the sitting position, unable to take Hermione's nagging anymore. ''What's the point in studying if we don't know if we meet criteria to take the entrance exam?''

Ron pointed at Harry as if the boy had disclosed some kind of revelation. ''Exactly!''

''I mean, I get where your anxiety comes from, but they've got a point too. Look, I'm not happy about being stuck in this kind of limbo of having to wait for N.E.W.T.s results to find a job either, but we can't make the results arrive faster,'' Ginny reasoned. ''I'm curious, though, what kind of job you are looking for?''

''I was thinking about the Ministry,'' Hermione said plainly.

''What? No, Hermione, don't turn into Percy!'' Ron cried out, prompting a burst of laughter from Harry and Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. He was a dumbass at times, but he was her dumbass. ''I've checked statistics and it would appear muggle-borns are heavily under-represented among the Ministry employees, not that I am surprised. If we want to see a change in the wizarding society, we should act. You-Kn-I mean, Voldemort, may be gone, but the mindset remains,'' the bookworm said.

Ron snorted. ''That's because there are still Death Eaters on the loose. But we will catch them, right, Harry?''

''No, Ron – you are downplaying the problem,'' Hermione spoke harshly. ''It's not just the Death Eaters. Don't you remember the fountain in the Ministry? It wasn't built by Death Eaters.''

''The fountain said nothing about muggle-borns,'' Ron argued.

Hermione looked around and not finding understanding on her friends' faces, scoffed. ''You don't get it, how could you? Ron and Ginny, you are pure-bloods, and Harry, you are a half-blood who happens to be the saviour of wizardkind! You receive better treatment!''

''And you are the smartest witch of the century, so what of it?'' Harry grimaced, tired of Hermione's tirades. Then he glanced at Ginny and it occured to him it might not have been the best thing to say when his girlfriend was around. ''Of course, you are very smart too,'' he added quickly, addressing Ginny.

The red-haired girl looked unamused at Harry. ''You know, it would be better if you hadn't said anything at all.''

''Ginny, you know I didn't mean anything bad!'' Harry half-protested, half-begged. Then he looked at Ron, looking for help, who only shrugged. ''You are not helping,'' Harry hissed in whisper.

---

Severus drummed his fingers against the table. The Leaky Cauldron perhaps was not the best place for meeting due to its popularity and therefore its crowdedness, but it served as a neutral ground. Severus could not imagine stepping his foot into the Malfoy manor ever again and he supposed Draco would be less than thrilled to visit a muggle settlement that Cokeworth was. Nevertheless, the man was quite astonished that Draco had accepted the invitation to a meeting. That was, unless the brat changed his mind and decided not to turn up. Not for the first time Severus asked himself why he was still so involved with some of the nuisances especially if said nuisances had already graduated from Hogwarts and he was not even a teacher anymore.

The door opened and a teenager with unmistakable light blond hair walked in, not bothering to hide his disgust at the design of the pub. He quickly spotted the ex-head of Slytherin and joined his once-teacher at the table.

''Draco,'' Severus greeted the boy.

''Out of all the pubs out there, you couldn't have probably picked a filthier one?'' Draco sneered.

''I can assure you there is a fine selection of less satisfactionary public houses in the wizarding Britain,'' Severus said calmly. ''Nevertheless, I am grateful you decided to come and see me. Are you going to order anything?'' he tilted his head in the direction of the counter.

''Just say what you've got to say and let us each walk their way, alright?'' Severus noticed the way young Slytherin avoided looking at him, especially looking at his scar.

The former spy shared some of Draco's discontent at the place of their meeting and the little to none privacy it provided – he could feel on his skin the curious glances cast in the direction of two rehabilitated Death Eaters. However, there were no better places what would be acceptable for both parties. ''Your anger is rational, Draco. Yes, I have betrayed your family.''

''And somehow you managed to keep the word you've given to my mother,'' Draco scoffed.

''Obviously,'' Severus said flatly.

''You know, she might even forgive you one day,'' Draco looked out the window. ''But don't count on my father's forgiveness.''

''I did not ask for your presence to discuss the past. I asked you to come to talk about your future, Draco,'' Severus explained, forcing the boy to finally look at him.

''What about it?'' Draco drawled, pretending he wasn't interested in the subject, but Severus knew him better.

''You have served your time. In five years, if you are not arrested again in that time, your criminal record is going to be expunged and you will be a law-abiding member of the wizarding society with a clean record once more,'' Severus said. He knew Draco's record, similarly to his own involvement with the Death Eaters will be deemed to have never happened only in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of the wizarding community they will always be recognised as Death Eaters, just like their Dark Marks were never going to completely fade away from their skins. It was and always would be their burden to carry. ''Therefore, it is the right time to think about your education and later the choice of your profession,'' Severus went on. ''Due to your house arrest, you missed two examination sessions, but you are not a lost case. You have nearly a year to prepare for the next year's N.E.W.T.s.''

Draco shook his head. ''And why do you think I want to continue my education? Look at Weasley – he is doing just fine without graduation and without N.E.W.T.s,'' he slapped his hand against the table.

''I know I was not the head of the house I should have been, but I don't want to see you waste your life,'' Severus hissed. ''Hate me all you want – I have earnt it. But you know I am right,'' the older wizard tapped his finger against the table to make a point. ''Forgive me, Draco, but I cannot imagine you working in a shop and you cannnot dream of finding a better job without at least few N.E.W.T.s on your curriculum vitae. If you don't want to make a choice right now, at least think about it. I am sure Narcissa is going to support my stance.''

''You know what? I'm tired of your talks,'' Draco said harshly.

The chair creaked unpleasantly against the floor when the teenager forcefully moved it, getting up. Then Draco headed for the exit, stomping heavily and bumping his shoulders against some of the pub's regulars and closed the door with a slam without turning away. All in all, the meeting went rather civil, considering the circumstances, Severus mused taking a sip of his firewhisky.

---

A year had been enough for Luna's house to return to its former, rook-like glory. It was the second week of July when Xenophilius invited his daughter's friends and some of his neighbours for a bit of a house warming party. There was a bonfire on the courtyard and the host handed his guests sticks with a piece of... something at the end to warm above the fire. Harry was not sure what it was, certainly not a sausage, and judging by Ron's expression, this time Harry's ignorance to wizarding traditions wasn't to blame.

''I just hope this time he's not keeping an Erumpent horn at home,'' Hermione chimed in worriedly.

''Sh!'' Ginny glared daggers at Hermione.

Luna was picking at the whatever that was attached to her stick. ''You should try boozenblem! It tastes the bets while still hot,'' she encouraged her friends.

Harry looked at the bzzz-bleee..., uh, the thing, that despite its name didn't look like a bumblebee at all, and maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw it move slightly. However, Luna's intense stare convinced him to go through with the meal. After initial cringe, he forced a smile on his face. The thing reminded him of the taste of the pork neck he had burnt when he had been eight. Back then he had no idea why the dish had burnt so quickly, but now he supposed his accidental magic had been the reason behind it. Wrapping it up, aunt and uncle had made him eat the entirety of the burnt pork and Harry's stomach had not been too happy with it. Yuck.

''So, do you have any tips what about the Auror training before we start our own?'' Ron asked Neville, redirecting everyone's attention from that awful meatpiece he had no will to try.

''Leave Neville alone. You don't even know your N.E.W.T.s results yet, let alone can predict your entrance exam's results. Unless you possess divination skills you've been hiding all those years,'' Hermione pointedly raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend.

Ron huffed. ''Can't we just agree that Harry and I are going to become Aurors? You're gonna bring us bad luck with your negativity!''

Neville toyed with the stick in his hands, almost stabbing himself in the eye with the thinner end. ''Oof. Um, I don't know if there's anything that I haven't already told you. We start with the History of The Dark Arts-''

''Boooring. Why do we even have to learn that? We're not gonna teach warlocks about the history of the spells they've been using,'' Ron groaned.

''Ron!'' Hermione rebuked him.

''And then we have Battle Instincts, Field Training and Stealth and Tracking. You know, traditionally Auror trainees weren't allowed to take part in the missions until their second year, so the first year is the basic stuff. From what I've gathered Concealment and Disguise, Poisons and Antidotes, Duelling in the Dark and Resilience Training are taught in the second year and the rest is a third-year subject,'' Neville shrugged.

''That's a lot,'' Harry recalled McGonagall having warned him that the Auror training was an extremely difficult three-years course that required a lot of further studying.

''Yeah, but it's pretty rewarding. And we receive a decent feedback, which is useful for semetral tests,'' Neville noted.

''There are semestral tests too? Oh, man,'' Ron deflated.

''Yeah, I've had Battle Instincts last week. I got an 'E' without much preparing,'' Neville smirked.

Ginny snorted. ''I bet we all have got our battle instincts sharpened.''

The group of teenagers started laughing by the fire at the absurdity of it all. Of their lives and their adventures. Maybe it was a way of dealing with trauma, but it was so effective. Luna nearly choked on a bit of the busybee... whatever that was impaled at the end of her bonfire stick.

''The owls!'' Mrs. Weasley ran to them, pointing at the sky and runing all the fun. ''The owls, kids!''

Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth. They all knew what it meant. Harry really had hoped it would take longer for the exams to be checked and graded. N.E.W.T.s results meant the end of carefree holidays. Now he would have to start studying for the entrance exam. If he scored good enough to qualify for it, that is.

His heart pounded loudly as he grabbed his letter. Ron looked at him insecurily as if he was asking if they wanted to do it.

''Oh, what are you waiting for?'' Mrs. Weasley hurried them up nervously.

Harry closed his eyes as he was opening the letter and cautiously cracked one eye open, as if it would change the grades for the better. Then he opened another eye and blinked to make sure what he saw was real. Four 'E's and one 'O'? He was in heaven! He looked at Ron, who seemed to be equally hazy on the results.

''So?'' Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to torn the report cards from them if they refused to tell her immediately.

''I've got all 'E's!'' Ron sighed blissfully.

''Same here,'' Ginny said.

Everyone's gaze fell on Hermione. ''All 'O's except for DADA... I received an 'E','' she admitted unhappily.

''I'm all 'E's too, except for DADA,'' Harry said.

''An 'O', right, mate?'' Ron slapped Harry's back.

''Yeah,'' Harry couldn't contain his smile.

''Oh, Arthur! Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley looked around trying to spot her husband. ''Where is he?'' she asked annoyed.

''I got an 'O' for the Care of Magical Creatures and Charms... the rest are 'E's,'' Luna smirked at her dad, who joined Mrs. Weasley.

''That's my daughter! I'm so happy my girl is going to become a magizoologist! To think of all the creature you'll be able to see,'' Xenophilius put his hands together as if he was praying.

A muggle barbecue rasped as Mr. Weasley struggled to set it up. Ever since Harry had mentioned barbecue parties organised by uncle Vernon, Mr. Weasley had been dying to try it out. ''What is it, Molly?''

''Oh, Arthur, leave that junk alone! The N.E.W.T.s!'' Mrs. Weasley waved broadly at her husband, urging him to join her. ''Ron and Ginny achieved all 'E's! I haven't been this proud since Percy's exam,'' the witch sighed in delight.

Ron smirked knowingly at Hermione. ''I don't think you have to worry about your job application.''

''Congrats, guys!'' Neville clapped.

Back at the Grimmauld Place Harry stared at his report card. The initial euphoria had faded away. He had achieved the required grades. However, the 'E' next to 'Potions' stared at him accusingly. It was good enough to take part in the entrance exam, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling he let Snape down. Harry had spent entire semester revising Potions with the Potions Master and yet he got the same grade as Ron, who hadn't had extra Potions. Logically speaking, Harry knew an 'O' at Potions had always been out of his reach. But hadn't Snape said he expected no less than an 'O' from his students? What a disappointment Harry must have been... not that it was something new.

On the other hand, Snape did not have to find out. Since Harry wasn't a student anymore, Snape had no means of finding out Harry's results. Certainly, he couldn't force Harry to tell him. In the worst case, Snape was going to take it out on future generations of Gryffindors, but he was probably going to maintain the unfair practice of taking away their points anyway. However, Harry, although unwillingly, had promised to inform his teacher.

Reluctanly, Harry fetched a sheet of parchment and a quill. A promise was a promise. Harry tapped his quill against the parchment, his head empty and all the words scattered around the corners of his mind. The first challenge he was met with was the way to address his teacher. 'Professor?' Snape wasn't his teacher anymore. 'Snape'? No, Snape would probably murder him for that. 'Dear Sir'? Too cordial. Thus, Harry settled for 'Sir'. The parchment mocked him after Harry had written the first word down.

After what seemed like a century, Harry composed a paragraph, but the letter still seemed awfully lackluster. Moreover, there was the question in the air – did he need further mentoring in Potions? Snape had shocked Harry with his offer. He couldn't have been serious, could he? Why would he want to do anything with Harry following Gryffindor's graduation? Had he made the offer because of Harry's mum? If Ron achieved the same grade as Harry, maybe the extra Potions had been just a waste of time? He was going to pass the Potions part of the entrance exam anyway, right? Neville passed it, despite an 'A' at Potions N.E.W.T.

Neville took the entrance exam under less strict rules, his mind reminded him.

And hadn't Snape said 'in Cokeworth'? Harry was given an opportunity to visit the place where his mum had grown up and that thought was very tempting. Furthermore, if he didn't like the lessons with Snape, he could simply withdraw from them. What was the git going to do to stop him? He couldn't assign Harry detentions anymore.

Weighing pros and cons, Harry returned to writing the letter, reminding himself to write to Hagrid as well when he was finished with Snape's letter.

Chapter Text

Severus stirred a potion bubbling and snaping in a cauldron. Having a feeling he heard something tapping, the wizard looked around his home laboratory, but found nothing capable of producing the sound. Maybe he simply overheard or misheard the cracks of fire below the cauldron, he mused returning to his potion.

Then three taps followed once more. Irritated, Severus huffed and walked away from his cauldron to find the source of the annoying sound. Tapping grew more impatient. The sound was rather distinctive, quickly giving away its source. Severus looked at the window to see a tiny, quite restless owl behind it. Oh, yes, he had seen the owl many times before – it belonged to the Weasley siblings. Then, of course, the Weasleys had no reason to send their owl to deliver a message to Severus, meaning Potter must have borrowed it.

The man opened the window and hung his arm in the air for the owl to sit on it. The bird accepted the invitation, eagerly jumping on his index finger.

''I presume you have a message for me?'' he asked and the owl confirmed by streching its leg in the former teacher's direction.

Severus untied the parchment from the owl's leg and unfolded it. He was rather surprised Potter actually decided to write to him like Severus had asked him. His eyes began hungrily scanning the parchment in his hands, when he realised he had a spectator.

''Do not stare,'' he addressed the owl, which ducked its head. Owls were awfully smart birds and he would not put it past this one giving away Severus interest in the received correspondence.

Then he returned to the letter that read:

Sir,

I hope this letter find you in good health. You asked me to share with you the results of my Potions N.E.W.T., which is guess is kind of fair, since you spent a whole semester of extra Potions with me. I don't know how to break it to you, but at the same time it shouldn't come as a shock to you as I've never been great at Potions, as we both know. So, without beating around the bush, I achieved an 'E'. Which is great for me as it's good enough for me to take the Auror training entrance exam. However, I know you expect better from your N.E.W.T.-level students... which would make 'Exceeds Expectations' actually below expectations. Is that the punchline?

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and slightly crumpling the parchment which rumbled in objection to such a harsh treatment. Did Potter truly think Severus had ever expected an 'O' at Potions from him? Severus was a realist and it had never crossed his mind the boy could have achieved that grade. Had he not told his students that under normal circumstances he would have expected 'O's from them? And sweet Merlin, the brat had no respect for the fine rules of epistle.

So, I'm sorry for wasting your semester, sir.

I've been thinking about the offer concerning the preparation for the entrance exam.

The wizard's throat tightened at those words as he awaited the verdict. Weasleys' owl pecked his finger, having no timing or care for Severus' feelings.

''I have got no snacks for you, there is no point in trying to blackmail me into giving you any, you foul bird,'' Severus said coarsely and the owl hung its head in disappointment.

As I've mentioned earlier, we both know I'm far from great at Potions. The more I think about it, the more I think I could use some more lessons. If you haven't already changed your mind, that is.

Regards,

Harry Potter

Severus let out a heavy, burdened exhale. He had foolishly anticipated the boy to deny the offer. Of course he had once more underestimated Potter's affinity for causing problems. It was dangerous endeavour inviting the brat into his house when Severus no longer had the excuse of being Potter's teacher. But Lily would not want for Severus to let down her – their, his mind treacherously reminded to Severus' anger, son down again.

The wizard put the owl down on the desk. ''I would like you to wait for me while I prepare a reply for Potter,'' he addressed the bird that hooted in agreement.

God, he was going to regret it, wasn't he?

---

Harry stepped into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder in his grasp. Despite the fact that Harry had already graduated from Hogwarts, Snape was still a pain in the arse for asking Harry to come on Wednesday at 2 P.M. Harry would have greatly preferred to spend this time with his friends and sit in the sunlight. After a throw of the Floo powder and a 'Spinner's End' command, he found himself on the other end of the Floo Network. He shook his head, trying to undust his hair. Wizarding means of transport were incomparably faster than the muggle ones, but Harry hated what they did to his stomach. Always. Be it the Floo Network, Apparation or a portkey.

The room was rather tight. Maybe it were all the books on the bookcases and shelves that gave the impression of narrowness. And then, of course, in the middle of the room stood the host.

''Uh, good afternoon, sir,'' Harry still was not sure how to address his former teacher. ''Thanks for having me.''

Snape eyed him with scrutiny. ''I am not your teacher anymore, Potter.'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why Snape decided to bring up pretty obvious that point. ''Therefore, I propose we move on to the surname basis, like the majority of the wizarding society does.''

''Oh,'' Harry said and only then realised the word wasn't uttered solely in his mind. ''Are you sure about that?'' he looked doubtfully at the older wizard. Sometimes it would have appeared that reminding Harry of properly calling his teacher had become one of Snape's special interests.

The former spy crossed his arms and unamusedly raised an eyebrow. ''What is the source of the sudden change, Potter? You have never cared to address me as 'professor' or 'sir','' he reminded icily.

Harry cringed at some of his school years memories, especially at the 'no need to call me sir' one. ''Just making sure, you know.''

''Then I can assure you I would not have made such a proporsal had I not been certain.''

Snape was as pleasant to be around as ever, it seemed. Harry began to question why he had bothered agreeing to the Potions lessons offer. Then the answer to the question arrived immediately – Snape was the only friend of Harry's mum the boy could talk to. Not only that, there were moments Harry felt some kind of kinship with his former teacher. Like they found understanding in their shared grief over Lily. But, man, Snape was not making it any easier.

Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''Since we have the introductions taken care of, let me show you around.'' The older wizard walked out of the cramped living room and Harry followed him. On the opposite side of the living room's door was a kitchen that served as a dining room as well, judging from the table with chairs standing next to the wall. ''This is the kitchen. Should you wish to eat or drink, I ask you to limit the action to the walls of this room. The last thing I need are stained books.'' The pair walked down the corridor. Snape pointed at the door. ''Do not walk inside this room unless I tell you so. Which I do not believe I ever shall,'' he went on in a monotonous voice. Harry glanced curiously at the door and a tiny voice at the back of his head encouraged him to try getting in when Snape wasn't looking. ''It is my old bedroom,'' the man tiredly explained as if he sensed Harry's impulse to break the rules. Then they walked upstairs. ''This is my current bedroom,'' Snape waved at another door. ''Needless to say, I do not want you inside this room either, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''Got it,'' Harry said. Maybe he still had an affinity for mischief, but he was an adult now and controlled his behaviour much better. Snape didn't have to repeat to him what he was forbidden from doing like he was a child.

''This is the bathroom. You may enter this room,'' Snape said opening the door for demonstration.

Harry looked inside – there was old bathtub with white paint falling off at the edges, old sink with pipes below getting a bit rusty, a sort of counter and a toilet. The place didn't make the user scared that they were going to catch some disease, but it certainly could use a renovation.

Then the former spy walked to the bookcase at the end of corridor and tapped it with his wand. The bookcase moved aside. ''Come in, Potter,'' the man waved at his former student.

Harry stepped in and in front of his eyes appeared a decent potions laboratory with lots of drawers, shelves, cauldrons, various ingredients, vials and bottles. And books. Harry wondered how many books the man owned. The tiny living room was drowining in them. And there was that magic bookcase. And now this. Hermione would have loved this place.

''Nice place, uh, Snape,'' Harry complimented the house.

''Enough of the small talk. We have no time to waste. Correct if I am mistaken, but you do not remember the Veritarevelans recipe?''

''Um, no,'' Harry make a face, trying to recall the potion.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Then let me remind you,'' he said grabbing a sheet of parchment from his desk and handing it to Harry. ''If you do well with Veritarevelans, I shall teach you the third potion from the Veritae kind – Veritavisus.''

''Cool,'' Harry nodded without much conviction. Then he looked around the room and the drawers and shelves. ''Uh, where-?''

''Potions ingredients are stored in these two cabinets,'' Snape pointed at the wall on the left. ''I keep cauldrons in this cabinet,'' he patted the top of maybe a meter tall cabinet.

Having collected the necessaries, Harry got to work. The potion was probably one of Snape's favourites – it was one of the first potions he discussed in Harry's seventh year and now the first potion during these lessons.

However, stirring the potion quickly became boring. Harry rested his chin on his left hand and stirred not too diligently with his right hand.

''If you keep on stirring so negligently, the only purpose the potion will be capable of serving is being poured into the toilet,'' Snape warned.

With a sigh, Harry straightened his back and returned to a bit more proper stirring. ''You must be overjoyed you won't see me ever again in Hogwarts.''

''The occurence of me teaching you in Hogwarts is not going to happen ever again for two reasons: firstly, you are not a student anymore. Secondly, I will not be returning to Hogwarts,'' Snape said.

''Yeah, right,'' Harry snorted with amused disbelief. ''You said you were quitting a year ago and we both know how it turned out.''

''This time I handed the Headmistress my resignation, which she accepted. I believe Horace Slughorn is going to take over Potions and Slytherin from me.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Snape was serious about it as one could be. ''For real? So what are you gonna do instead?''

''Right now I am trying to teach you Potions and you are not helping in the slightests,'' Snape said flatly.

Harry grumbled. Naturally Snape had to cut the conversation in its most interesting part. ''Has my mum ever visited you?'' he asked after a few stirs.

Snape slightly raised an eyebrow. ''No. I have never invited her. I did not think there was a point in her meeting my parents and seeing my house.''

Harry's mouth left a somewhat dissapointed 'oh'. ''Have you ever visited my mum's home?'' he asked after a few minutes of silence.

This time Snape's jaw tensed a bit. ''She invited me a few times, but I have never accepted the invitation. Meeting her and playing with her in the town and by the river was enough for me,'' he answered stiffly.

''Probably you didn't want to see aunt Petunia. Can't blame you for that,'' Harry looked at his ex-teacher with a smirk on his face.

However, Snape's face was far from joyful. ''You could say that.''

Harry huffed at Snape's unwillingness to talk and returned his attention to the potion in front of him again. The monotonous bubbling made him feel like dying. ''But you know where my mum lived, right?'' he tried again after few moments.

''I suggest you concentrate on the potion, Potter,'' the man said. ''Unless you wish to burn it, that is.''

Well, maybe Snape's voice accepted no objections, but Harry was an unstoppable force to Snape's unmovable object. ''Aunt Petunia has never talked about this town,'' he pleaded.

''This is one of few things I can agree with Petunia – Cokeworth is not interesting enough to be talked about. Everyone who has the opportunity leaves it behind.''

''Oh, please! Can't you show me around? I know next to nothing about my mum's childhood and my grandparents. You are the only one who could tell me anything about Cokeworth, Snape!'' Harry's curiosity was unsated. He could feel the town calling him and he was stuck with potions again.

Snape sighed tiredly. ''There is no chance for you to focus on the potion unless I give you a tour around Cokeworth, is there, Potter? Fine, just this once. Am I clear?''

''Yeah, thanks,'' edges of Harry's lips went up at the prospect of seeing the places where his mum had been to and where she had grown up.

With a wave of his wand Snape put out the fire beneath the cauldron and put a stasis spell on the potion-in-progress. Then he approached a cabinet. Harry was about to point out they should be heading for the secret bookcase passage when the cabinet moved.

''Follow me,'' Snape ordered and Harry obliged with great interest.

This time two wizards entered a narrow and rather dim corridor. ''Another room I expect you not to be found inside,'' the older wizard noted when they were moving past a door and Harry nodded, even though he wasn't sure if the other wizard saw the motion.

The dark corridor ended with a staircase. Harry walked down the stairs and through a bookcase, a different one this time, to exit to the living room to his surprise.

''How many hidden rooms you have in here?'' Harry asked with amazement.

''Let's just say this muggle establishment required some changes for adaptation to wizard's needs,'' the man's voice remained cranky, but Harry could see a spark of pride in man's eyes.

Two wizards stepped outside the main door and Harry waited for the older wizard to close them. Harry half expected Snape to use standard muggle keys to remain stealthy, but he locked the door with magic.

''So... where are we going?'' Harry asked cautiously.

''I will show you the house where your mother and your grandparents lived. Is that not what you wanted?'' Snape pressed.

''Uh, yeah,'' Harry agreed.

They headed to another parts of Cokeworth, the not-Spinner's-End ones. The Spinner's End part of the road led through dark alleys, making Harry think of the streets his aunt had always warned Dudley against. Even though the lectures weren't meant for Harry to hear, aunt Petunia's preaching had seemingly seeped into Harry's system as the young wizard was getting goose bumps. Knowing aunt Petunia's story with Severus Snape it was possible these were the exact streets she'd had in mind when warning her beloved Diddykins.

The town looked rather abandoned. There were hardly any people in the streets. But maybe it could be attributed to Harry and Snape taking a walk in the middle of a week in the afternoon. The majority of people were probably working right now.

''I thought there would be more children,'' Harry pointed out. He remembered having holidays in summer back in the muggle school and he assumed the muggle world hasn't changed that much since he had entered the wizarding world.

''As I said, Cokeworth is depopulating. The wealthier citizens moved out looking for better life opportunities, leaving behind the industrial part of the town and the elders,'' Snape explained matter-of-factly.

After a short walk they stopped in front of a row house of red brick. In some ways it didn't look that different from the houses in the Spinner's End, but it was kept in much better condition than houses in the poorer part of the town. However, there was nothing out of ordinary about the house.

''Here we are. Your mother lived here. Naturally, nowadays someone else lives here, following your grandparents' passing. I have no idea who lives here, so do not bother asking me,'' Snape warned.

Harry hummed in agreement. He would have loved to walk inside the house, but it wasn't an option.

''Since we have crossed off this activity, let's return to potions,'' the former teacher turned around and started walking back to the Spinner's End.

Harry quickly caught up with Snape's pace. ''That's it?'' he asked incredulously.

''Yes. That is what you wanted,'' Snape said tiredly.

''Can't you show me the playground where you used to play?'' Harry pleaded.

''No, I cannot,'' Snape said firmly.

''But why?'' Harry demanded.

''Because the playground was falling apart and the municipality decided it was easier to dismantle it than build a new one,'' Snape said silkily. ''Remember that your mother and I would play there thirty years ago and the playground was by no means in pristine condition back then.''

''What about the banks? The river hasn't dried up, has it?'' Harry mocked.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Yes, the river still exists and it was one of few entertaining things this town provided. However, I cannot imagine you are going to be satisfied with the looks of it.''

''Doesn't matter. Can I just see it?'' Harry asked impatiently.

Snape reluctantly nodded and led the way to the river. It wasn't far away either.

''Oi, lad, I know yow! Are yow that Snape kid?'' an elderly man shouted from distance when the two wizards were in the near proximity of the river. ''Thobias' kid?''

Snape sighed tiredly. ''I am,'' he said unpleasantly.

The man walked closer. ''Heavens! Haven't seen yow in years. Since Eileen's funeral, I think? How long has it been?''

''Fifteen years,'' Snape said through clenched teeth.

The elderly man apparently did not catch the clue to end the conversation. ''Didn't know yow were a priest!'' he looked at Snape's black robe.

''God works in mysterious ways,'' the wizard deadpanned.

''And who yow might be?'' the man addressed Harry.

Harry opened up his mouth to respond, but Snape interrupted. ''He is my student.''

The elderly muggle narrowed his eyes at Harry. ''Yow remind me of somebody, laddie.''

''Uh, Lily Potter was my mum. She lived here,'' Harry said, earning him an angry stare from Snape.

''Potter?'' the muggle bit his lip, lost in thoughts. ''Doesn't ring a bell.''

Oh, right. People in Cokeworth knew his mum under her maiden name. ''Her maiden name was Evans.''

The old man's eyes lit up with recognition. ''Ah, Lily Evans! Yes, I remember. Such a sweet lass... but what was it yow said? She's dead?'' he asked with disbelief.

''We are not going to keep you any longer. Have a nice day,'' Snape said forcefully. The man waved politely his flat cap at the alleged priest and walked away. ''Are you out of your mind, Potter?'' Snape hissed when the man was outside hearing range.

''What?'' Harry shrugged.

''I suppose Petunia hasn't told you not to talk to strangers,'' Snape scoffed and carried on walking.

The wizards arrived at the banks at last. Snape had been right – the view wasn't exactly what Harry would call breathtaking. The river had an unpleasant smell and brownish water flowed down its riverbed. The grass around the bank looked half-rotten and there were some empty bottles scattered around – probably leftovers from a local teenagers' party.

Harry, however, was not going to complain. It would give Snape an upper hand and Harry could see some appeal in the place for ten-year-olds and teenagers.

''Since you are done with admiring the view, I believe we may return to Spinner's End,'' Snape pressed, clearly not impressed with the walk down the memory lane.

Soon they entered the poorer part of the town once again. A lot of memorable places seemed to be within walking distance in Cokeworth. Maybe it was due to the fact that those memorable places were connected to Lily's childhood and kids don't tend to walk great distances.

''We both blend well in the muggle world, wouldn't you agree, Snape?'' Harry asked with a smirk after few moments of silence as he looked at his muggle attire and Snape's black robe.

''Yes, I am sure you found it hilarious, Potter,'' Snape said flatly and then stopped abruptly, making Harry bump into him. The former spy raised his hand ordering the boy to keep quiet. Then the greasy-haired man swiftly took out his wand and hissed. ''Hide!''

Harry blinked. ''What?''

''Do what I tell you. Hide, Potter! Take your cloak and flee,'' Snape furrowed his eyebrows threateningly.

''But sir-'' Harry wanted to protest, to ask what was going on.

Snape grimaced in an ugly way. ''We've got no time for that, you brat,'' his voice was accepting no objections and Harry has already learnt not to argue with the man. At least not when the man decided there was danger somewhere around. It might have been a late wisdom, but better late than never. Or maybe it was a sign of maturing.

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his frame just before four individuals appeared in an alley. At first Harry took them for muggle robbers or some sort of low-profile criminals.

''Well, well, well, look who we've caught today,'' tall blonde licked his lips, the action exposing some twisted gruesome desire. Harry had heard that voice before.

''Severus... how we wished to see you. And our humble prayers were answered today,'' the other man spoke faux-sweetly and put his hands together. His face looked terrible – his eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow. No doubt he had been a prisoner in Azkaban.

A man standing next to him, whose face Harry couldn't recognise, looked similarly devoid of life. He was unusually quiet and if not for the flames of pure hatred in his eyes, Harry would have thought he had been kissed by a Dementor.

''Die, you scum!'' shouted the woman. Harry saw her the first time in his life too. The woman pulled out her wand yelling ''Die, you traitor!''

Snape was quicker. In a rapid movement he parried woman's projectiles. ''Rowle, the Ministry will be glad to put you into a prison cell. I have heard about your escape. I must admit I am rather impressed you managed to evade the Ministry's hands for so long,'' he adressed the blonde, blocking an attack from the man with spiteful eyes.

''Face your death, you filth,'' was Thorfinn Rowle's response. He didn't shout – he didn't have to. His voice was eerily calm and hateful.

Snape raised an eyebrow, the only expression on his stoic face. ''Would you like me to lie down to make it easier for you?''

To Harry's horror, green light started to form at the end of Rowle's wand, even though he hadn't said a word of the incantation. The boy drew out his own wand and yelled ''Expelliarmus!''. However, the spell didn't work out as Harry expected it to. The blonde's arms gravitated towards his body and his legs seemed to be glued together and the man fell down.

Simulataneously the sunked-faced escapee from Azkaban cast a hex at Snape and man parried it with such a speed, Harry was immensely impressed with his teacher's agility.

''I suppose it was a 'no','' Snape said in a bored voice, having cast a wordless Petrificus Totalus and defended himself against a hex like it all was a piece of cake.

''Have you seen that?!'' the woman yelled pointing in Harry's direction as if she could she him under his cloak. ''There's someone there! Show yourself! Crucio!''

Harry saw Snape's eyes widen for a fraction of second. The Slytherin cast a wordless spell that made the witch lose her balance. At the same time Harry cast another Expelliarmus, but the spell moved past falling witch. One of unforgiveable flew inches away from Harry's head.

''Snape!'' the ugly man smiled sadistically. ''Who is there?''

''Why do you even bother asking if you know you won't receive the answer, Macnair?'' Snape deadpanned.

Macnair threw a Stinging Jinx towards Harry, who cast a Protego.

''I thought it was me who you were after?'' Snape reminded matter-of-factly.

Walden Macnair huffed turning around to meet Snape. ''So impatient to meet your death? Don't fret your head. We will first kill you and then your companion.''

''Crucio!'' two men and the woman shouted at once. There was no way Snape could have shielded himself from the unforgiveable spell or knocked over all the opponents at the same time. Snape cast a freezing spell at the man whose eyes were filled with fire. A second later the wizard clad in black curled in agony on the ground, breathing heavily and trying not to show how much in pain he was. Harry watched in horror, shiver went down his spine as if an electric bolt slid down there.

''Not so cavalier now, are you?'' Macnair mocked him. ''Crucio,'' he hissed spitefully.

The woman was preparing herself to cast another Crucifying Curse, but Harry screamed ''Expelliarmus!'' making woman's wand fly meters away.

''Potter!'' sadistical pleasure appeared on Macnair's face once again. He looked at Harry who recklessly cast his cloak aside, then at Snape on shaking spasmodically on the ground and again at Harry. ''Crucio!'' he shot another unforgiveable spell at Snape.

''Raaaagh!!!'' Snape's muscles tensed as he screamed in agony. Harry recognised the message behind the pained scream. The message that said 'run'.

Gryffindor, however, had no intention of leaving the man to certain death.

The glint in Macnair's eyes revealed he too knew Harry wasn't going anywhere. ''Avada-'' the man was now facing Harry, grinning with a twisted grin of a person who relishes in suffering, but quickly turned towards Snape aiming the Killing Curse at the ex-spy. He didn't have a chance to finish it – Harry cast a Petrificus Totalus.

What Harry failed to notice was the woman at the very same moment wandlessly Accio-ing her wand with a great effort, apparently not being that adept at the art of wandless magic. Nevertheless, it was enough for her to grab her tool of violence and cast a slicing spell at Snape.

Lump formed in his throat and Harry felt his face getting paler at the sight of red stains dyeing Snape's black robes around his neck. ''No! Petrificus Totalus!'' he yelled but the woman parried it. ''Snape!'' he shouted as he heard terrifying choking noises. ''Expelliarmus!'' didn't work as well. Harry felt panic flowing through his body. Please, no, he begged in his mind. ''No!'' he cried out, tears of despair running down his cheeks. ''Impedimenta! Locomotor Wibbly!'' He wasn't fully registering his own movements, as if his body grew a conscience on its own, he cast a wordless Petrificus Totalus, this time managing to take by surprise the Death Eather woman.

He didn't have the time to think about what had transpired. He ran towards his former teacher choking and bleeding to death in terrible pain. ''Snape!'' he called grabbing older wizard's shoulder. The whine was enough to tell him the man was still alive. Harry repressed the gag forming in his throat at the sight of Snape's slit one. Harry hysterically tried to recall the healing spell for cuts. He didn't have much time before Snape bled out to death or choked on his own blood trying to draw a breath. The memory of him accidentally casting Sectumsempra at Draco emerged in Harry's mind. Vulnera Sanetur, he recalled. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' Harry said in a sing-song, hoping he was pronouncing it correctly. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' he repeated and he saw the wound closing. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' he said the one final time. Harry sighed, seeing the wound fully closed. ''Snape,'' he called, but Snape stared presumably into nothingness. ''Professor!'' Harry shook former spy's shoulders, desperately needing some kind of confirmation it wasn't too late. Snape's hazy gaze landed on the boy and Harry wasn't certain if Snape was aware of his surroundings. ''Professor, do you have the Blood-rep-''

''Son,'' Snape whimpered, staring with eyes full of pain at Harry.

Harry moved his head back a little in confusion. That was the word he least expected to hear from Snape. He could imagine Dumbledore, perhaps Sirius or maybe even Lupin addressing him in such a way, but Snape? Harry was sure – talking to Snape in that state was pointless. ''Accio Blood-Replenishing Potion!'' he cast a spell instead. Luckily it appeared the man had the potion on him as it flew out from his robes into Harry's hand. The wizard in glasses uncorked the bottle and put it to the former spy's mouth. ''You will be alright. You just need to drink this, OK?'', Harry gently rubbed man's arm to offer him some comfort.

Snape coughed while drinking the potion and soon his breath became less ragged. Even though we was no more under the threat of bleeding to death, he was still experiencing the aftermath of the Crucifying Curse.

Crouching beside his teacher, Harry send a Patronus message to Neville to call Aurors. After all he and Snape had caught four Death Eaters.

''You rely too much on the Expelliarmus, Potter,'' he heard Snape's coarse voice.

Normally, Harry would have talked back, but now he was too worried about the man. ''How are you feeling, sir?'' Snape winced trying to get up from the ground. ''Don't get up!'' Harry exclaimed outraged, forgetting for a moment about the manners.

''Your concern is truly flattering, Potter,'' Snape said drily. ''I've lived through worse,'' he hissed and sat up. ''Why couldn't you just listened to me, you dunderhead?!'' he smacked the back of Harry's head without putting any strength into it. ''I told you to hide and run!''

''You could have died!'' Harry argued.

''I could have fought them off if not for you!'' Snape sneered. ''I always have to babysit you, you brat.''

''And the Cruciatus?'' Harry's voice betrayed him, much to his dismay. He wanted to sound angry, to make a point in the argument and instead he sounded concerned.

''I have potions stored at home to alleviate the effects of the Curse. I'll live,'' Snape said harshly. ''Get your cloak before the Aurors arrive,'' he rebuked his former pupil.

And Aurors did arrive, alongside Neville. They all appeared battle-ready and there was maybe a glint of disappointment in the Aurors' eyes they arrived after all was said and done. They didn't even have to bind the Death Eaters with the Incarcerous spell.

Neville, on the other hand, seemed rather shocked by the scene. ''What happened here, Harry?'' he whispered, taking his friend on the side.

''Uh, Snape was showing me his and my mum's town and we were attacked,'' Harry said, feeling a little fatigued from andrenaline leaving his body.

''Oh, we cannot thank you enough, Snape, Potter! We were trying to catch this four for months!'' said Proudfoot.

''Are you two quite alright?'' Savage looked first at Snape's robes covered in blood, then at bruised Harry.

''I suggest you check on Potter,'' Snape said trying to redirect Auror's attention from himself, but Harry knew the man wasn't that well – he was simply good at acting as he clipped his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking.

''Well, I would have recommended you as Merlin's order nominatees, but you already are awarded,'' Savage joked to ease the tense atmosphere.

Neville grabbed Harry's sleeve. ''Are you sure you're fine?'' he whispered.

''Yeah, sure, right as rain,'' Harry answered mechanically, still not having fully processed what had happened.

Having decided there was nothing left to be taken care of, the Aurors departed with four Death Eaters in tow and Snape and Harry returned to the older wizard's house, accompanied by unceasing questions regarding Snape's well-being on Harry's part.

''Uh, would you like me to bring you that anti-Cruciatus potion?'' Harry asked back at Snape's place, insecurily opening various cabinets in the kitchen. He knew himself how nasty the curse was and he shuddered at the memory of having fallen a victim to the curse.

Snape, who was sitting at the table in the kitchen, rested his back against the chairback. He tilted his head backwards, making Harry worry if the wound on his throat was going to reopen (why it had to be the neck again?), and let out a long tired and slightly pained low sigh bordering on a growl. ''Fuuuck.''

Harry looked at his former teacher somewhat startled, but he was not going to reproach Snape for years of complaining about Harry's lack of manners and then swearing himself, because fuck indeed. ''Uh, Snape?'' he called cautiously.

Snape massaged his left temple and Harry wondered ruefully how many times the man had had to pretend he had been alright after suffering the Crucifying Curse.

''No need, Potter. I'll fetch the potion myself,'' the former spy mumbled with less clarity than usual.

''Then maybe you'd like some tea?'' Harry offered.

''I-'' Snape tiredly rested his forehead on his palm. ''I'll be back in a minute,'' he said getting up.

---

Severus could hold back the pain only for so long. His body opposed every step as he headed upstairs to the bathroom. There Severus with his trembling hands managed to scavenge the counter in the search for the Cruciatus-alleviating potion. He battled with the cork and for a moment he was concerned the bottle was going to fall from his shaking hands. Having uncorked the bottle at last, he downed it in one go and closed his eyes, awaiting the relief. His muscles untensed a bit. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes to look in the mirror.

He inspected the wound. Potter had done surprisingly decent job at closing it. Properly treated with dittany it should leave no scars within few days, unlike the other scar on his neck.

Potter, Severus' thoughts returned to the boy. He had known that inviting The-Boy-Who-Lived had been a disastrous idea and in hopes of changing Gryffindor's mind Severus naively had ordered him to come at most undesirable time. He had failed to take one crucial factor into consideration – Cokeworth was also Lily's town and thus the boy would not be persuaded to decline the offer. Severus could have known better than giving in to the brat's wishes. Merlin knew the Gryffindor was a troubles magnet. Of course the brat would not listen when Severus had ordered him to flee. The killing curse could have easily struck the brat... Severus clenched his fists against the rim of the sink and looked deeply himself into his black eyes – who was he trying to fool? Whether he liked or not, the boy was and always would remain Severus' responsibility. Even though the boy was never going to find out the truth. At this point it was an undisputable fact. He turned away his face scoffing. He's lost. He's lost and the fact the boy was sitting in his kitchen only served as a proof of his defeat. He despised his vulnerability.

He slowly unbuttoned his robe and cast it to the floor. It was going to end in the trash bin, anyway. He stepped naked into the bathtub for a quick shower, washing away the blood from his neck and his shoulder. Having dried himself with a towel, he applied dittany to his newest scar and Accio'ed a new set of robes.

Slightly refreshed, Severus walked downstairs.

''Potter, what are you doing?'' he asked entering the kitchen as he spotted the boy hiding something in his pocket.

''No-nothing,'' Potter yelped. It was clear as day he was lying, but Severus was in no mood for interrogation. ''Uh, I've made you tea.''

''Yes, I can see that,'' Snape said tiredly and grabbed a cup of tea. ''Thank you,'' he forced himself to say and took a sip. The liquid slid pleasantly down his throat. ''I suppose when we are done with Potions, I should revise with you DADA as well.''

Potter crunched up his nose. 'Ummm...?''

''You cannot solely rely on the Expelliarmus spell if you wish to become an Auror, Potter,'' Severus said matter-of-factly.

''Well,'' the boy shrugged. ''It worked against Voldemort, so I guess it should work with other warlocks too. Besides,'' he insecurily scratched the back of his hand. ''I kinda learnt it from you. I mean, when you disarmed Lockhart, we all though it was the coolest shi-I mean, thing ever.''

Severus felt something in his guts and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. ''Lockhart was a fraud.''

''I know, but we were twelve-year-olds at that time, so, you know,'' Potter said a bit embarrassedly.

''You are not a twelve-year-old now, Potter. You need to learn proper spells if you wish to fight warlocks,'' Severus said a bit harshly. After a sigh, he added. ''It was a tiring day. Therefore, I suggest we call it a day. You will finish Veritarevelans next week. 2 P.M. sharp.''

''Are you sure you don't need a company?'' Potter warily eyed him.

''Yes, yes, just go now,'' Severus tiredly waved his hand, wishing to be left alone at last.

---

Harry was sitting in his bed at Grimmauld Place while he stared curiously at several hairs of Snape stored in a tiny plastic string bag. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but the urge had been too strong to resist. The word 'son' still echoed in his head and refused to stop. Back at the Spinner's End he had transformed a paper tissue into the bag string and then Accio'ed Snape's hair. Luckily only the scattered around ones had arrived at the calling. It would have been most embarrassing is he had magically tugged at Snape's hair, he realised with horror of how close he had been to screwing this up.

Naturally, Snape had caught him in action when Harry had been stuffing the plastic bag into his jeans' pocket. The teenager had though Snape was going to hold him accountable for infringing his privacy, but strangely Snape hadn't.

As for the word... the word meant nothing, it was simply a figure of speech, but Harry still couldn't wrap his head around Snape out of all people using it. But then, Snape had not been fully aware of what he had been saying. Maybe he hadn't been even thinking about Harry.

Harry's eyes didn't leave the plastic bag. Hadn't Sirius said all pure-blood families were related? Potters were pure-bloods and so Princes were, and Harry had conceived what probably was his stupidiest idea so far.

Having asked Kreacher for info about London's genetic testing clinics, Harry left for the closest one. He had seen this kind of stuff in some telly cops-and-action series he had watched when the Dursleys left for holidays, leaving Harry alone at the Privet Drive.

The boy entered a lounge with a deep sense of wrongness. He really was inviding Snape's privacy and if the man found out, Harry was cooked.

''How can I help you?'' the young woman sitting behind the high counter asked with a polite smile.

''Uh, is this genetic testing clinic?'' Harry looked around, second guessing himself.

''Yes,'' she answered with that fake smile.

''I have these hairs...'' he took out the plastic string bag and put the bag on the counter.

''Oh, you came for the paternity test?'' Harry went silent, not knowing what to say. He actually came for distant cousin tests, but the woman would probably laugh at Harry if he said that. ''Keep these for now,'' she slid the bag back to Harry, taking the silence for a 'yes'. ''Are these yours?''

''No,'' Harry admitted awkwardly.

''Do you have a consent of the person who these belong to?'' the woman asked cautiously.

''No...'' Harry coughed.

The woman sighed. ''Look, I need a consent from both of you, alright? May I ask how old are you?'' great, now the woman was quite suspicious of Harry.

''Eighteen,'' at least this one seemed like a correct answer.

''May I see your ID?'' the receptionist was not going to stop asking questions, was she?

Harry perhaps should have taken the questions as a red flag and retreated. Not that he did. What he did instead was confunding the woman into accepting him as a customer. After disclosing his address (to receive the results as the receptionist assured) and paying for the service (it was certainly not cheap, but he was not going to be that unfair on the woman), after short wait Harry was asked to enter the treatment room. There he handed the string bag with Snape's hair to the woman in a white lab coat and blue latex gloves. The treatment was quick – the woman picked few hairs from his head and informed to await the results in one to two weeks.

The uneasiness at his vile actions gripped at his stomach for a while. However, it was sliding from his memory by the time Kreacher made a treacle tart.

Chapter Text

Neville wasn't going to keep the information about Harry and Snape apprehending four Death Eaters to himself. He just needed to share the story with the rest of the gang and to his great surprise he found out Harry had not told their friends about the duel in Cokeworth.

Harry, on the other hand, would have much preferred for his friends not to find out. While Ginny and Hermione focused on the part of the story that concerned four Death Eaters in a muggle town – with Hermione covering her mouth in shock and Ginny scolding Harry for not having been careful enough, Ron focused on the bit concerning Harry having been present with Snape in Cokeworth.

''Wait, you were there with Snape?!'' the red-haired boy cast an accusatory glance at his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Yeah, Neville has just said that.''

''We were all – I mean Savage, Proudfoot and I, very impressed with Harry and Snape. We've been trying to track Macnair, Rowle, Jugson and Lee down for months!'' Neville praised Harry.

''More like they tracked Harry down...'' Ginny was still busy casting disapproving glances at her boyfriend.

Harry stared at Madam Rosmerta with his eyes full of plea to free him from this conversation. The owner of the Three Broomsticks caught Harry's glance and arrived at the table.

''Another one for you, dears?'' she asked looking at the empty mugs.

''Absolutely!'' Ron exclaimed joyously and the rest nodded in agreement, making Harry's respite from the Cokeworth's subject awfully short. ''Ouch!'' Ron jumped when Hermione jabbed him with her elbow having muttered something that sounded similar to 'don't stare at her arse'. ''But what were you doing there with Snape out of all people?'' Ron asked after a moment.

Harry sighed resigned. It seemed that Ron was not going to let go of the subject. ''Look... He offered to help me prepare for the entrance exam.''

''So? He's in no place to tell you what to do anymore,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Harry grumbled tiredly. What was the point of explaining when Ron refused to listen? ''He invited me to his home in Cokeworth and I've told you he's been my mum's childhood friend... I may never get another chance of seeing the town where she'd grown up. That's why I agreed. Aaand that's why we were walking around the town...'' he scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

''Aw, that's sweet,'' apparently Ginny's anger at Harry diminished a great deal upon her learning the story behind the duel. The girl wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulder and cuddled in.

Hermione looked at the scene with a dose of envy. Ron, failed to get the clue and instead waited for Madam Rosmerta to bring another set of butterbeer. Neville, however, understood what Hermione expected from Ron and suddenly felt quite out of place, being the only single in the group.

---

''You kids are still sitting here? If I were you, I'd go to a pub for a drink!'' Mr. Granger chuckled as he entered the living room.

''Mark!'' Mrs. Granger swatted her husband's arm in a playful manner.

''Tell me you wouldn't want to spend some days of your last such a long holidays drinking with your friends,'' Mr. Granger challenged his wife.

''Oh, stop embarrassing yourself in front of the youth,'' Mrs. Granger smirked at Hermione hidding her face in her palms.

''We went to a pub last week,'' Hermione sighed.

''Yes, but you usually go to the magical ones. Which is not a bad thing, you are witches and wizards, of course,'' Mrs. Granger elaborated. ''But maybe your friends would like to get acquainted with non-magical ones?''

''I'd like to, for a change,'' Ron said with increased interest.

''Ginny's not eighteen yet, dad,'' Hermione pointed out.

''Oh, right!'' Mr. Granger slapped his forehead. ''I keep forgetting wizards have different age standard for coming of age.''

''Chop-chop, we're going to be late for the play,'' Mrs. Granger glanced at the clock. ''Crookshanks, you stay,'' she waved her finger at the cat. ''Have fun, kids!'' she said closing the door behind her.

''Your parents seem more fun than I'd give them credit based on your personality, Mione,'' Ron said.

''Shut up,'' Hermione swatted Ron's arm and now Harry knew where had she got that.

''Going to a muggle pub for Ginny's birthday sounds like a fun idea, doesn't it, Ginny?'' said Harry. Mr. Granger might have been joking, but the teenager actually fancied the idea.

''I'd love to go!'' Ginny smiled brightly. ''Just write it down in your calendar, so you don't forget it, Harry,'' she smirked.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''Have I ever forgotten about your birthday?'' Then he tried to visualise a calendar in his mind. ''Uh, 11^th of August is on Wednesday this year?'' Harry brushed Crookshanks' fluffy tail from his face. The cat's fur tickling his nose made him feel like he was about sneeze in a second.

The cat meowed, voicing his disagreement, and jumped on Hermione laps instead. Which seemed a much better idea as his owner soon started scratching him behind his ear. Crookshanks purred happily.

''Yeah, why?'' Ginny was taken off guard by the question.

''Um, I'm kinda busy on Wednesday afternoons and maybe evenings?'' Harry said warily.

''No problem, we can go on Thursday after my birthday,'' Ginny shrugged, but Harry had a nasty feeling he had said a wrong thing. Despite having dated Ginny for quite some time now, he still had no idea how to talk to girls in a way that did not enrage them.

''Wha-wait,'' Ron raised his hand, telling Harry to stop. ''Why would you be busy in a way that doesn't involve Ginny?''

''Harry can have his own life. Maybe he wants to see Teddy or something,'' Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.

Ron, however, eyed his friend studiously. ''No...'' his eyes widened as a thought appeared in his head. ''Don't tell me you are still going to the Potions with the git!''

Harry sneered. ''And if I am, then what?'' Yes, he knew it was weird he still voluntarily was having those classes, there was no need to bring it up.

It appeared that despite the fact that a week had passed since Neville had spilled the tea, Ron was still offended that Harry had accepted Snape's offer. ''Ugh, I can't believe I let you borrow Pigwidgeon only for you to write to Snape,'' Ron scoffed crossing his arms. ''If I knew, I wouldn't let you.''

Ginny snorted, amused by her brother's antics. ''That's probably why Harry didn't tell you.''

''I think it's praiseworthy Harry wants to work on his Potions before the entrance exam,'' Hermione cut in.

''And I think it's unhealthy he is still having classes with the git. He's always mocking you, Harry!'' Ron protested.

''I mean, uh, he's not that bad when he doesn't have an audience,'' Harry pointed out.

''You are growing some kind of sick attachment because he knew your mum,'' Ron cringed at his own words.

Redhead actually made Harry question himself. Was Ron right? Maybe Harry's attachment to Sirius and Remus had also been unnatural and merely caused by their friendship with his dad?

''Oh, don't listen to him. He's just jealous Snape didn't invite him,'' Ginny said cheekily, sensing a drop in Harry's mood.

''Me?!'' Ron nearly shrieked outraged at the accusation.

''And how are your lessons going? What are material are you covering?'' Hermione asked while petting her cat.

''We've started Veritavisus yesterday. He says the Verita- potions are important for Aurors. Aaand I've nearly set Snape's lab on fire,'' Harry added embarrassedly.

Ginny burst into laughter, imagining their teacher's face and then quickly muttered ''Sorry,'' while trying to suppress her laughter, without much success.

Hermione, on the other hand, surely was making a mental list of the potions she was going to make Ron study before the exam.

Harry returned at the Grimmauld Place in the late evening or maybe even in the early night, feeling pleasantly relaxed from the time spent with his friends.

''Master, a letter has arrived for you,'' Kreacher greeted him when Harry crossed the threshold. ''Kreacher has collected the mail for his Master,'' the house elf said in a low voice, afraid of disturbing the portrait of his late mistress lest it caught a clue it was a muggle mail.

Kreacher took a letter from his dirty rags and handed it to Harry, who narrowed his eyes at the envelope. Oh, it was from the genetic testing clinic. Harry had forgotten it's been already over two weeks since he had gone there. ''Thanks, Kreacher,'' he smiled at the house elf and headed for his bedroom.

''No supper, Master?'' Kreacher asked anxiously.

''Not hungry, thanks,'' Harry replied walking upstairs.

The boy put the letter on the nightstand and took his pajamas and a towel from a wardrobe. Leaving for the bathroom, he only cast a glance at the letter. He was going to take a look at it tomorrow. The letter wasn't anything important, after all, only a stupid whim. It could wait for the next day.

---

Harry woke up the next day and yawned feeling pleasantly rested. Despite that he did not rush to get up from his bed. He forced himself to step out of the bed only maybe half an hour later, when his stomach started demanding breakfast. If not for an accidental glance cast in the nightstand's direction, he would have forgotten about the mail. He picked it up and walked downstairs.

In the dining room Kreacher was already awaiting him with a nice, square meal. Harry put the letter on the table and began wolfing his breakfast. Only when he was done with his meal, he looked at the unopened letter. Frankly, he was not that interested in its contents, his mind much more occupied with his birthday party that was going to be held the next day in the Burrow.

Harry took a sip of his coffee and torn the envelope open. Having took the report out, he let his eyes scan it. There were three columns: one with the test number, one titled 'child' and one titled 'alleged father'. Harry grimaced at the name of the last column. In the most left column there were some weird sequences of letters and numbers that told absolutely nothing to Harry. In two other columns there were rows of numbers – some of them appeared in both 'child' and 'alleged father' columns.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the numbers clueless how to interpret them. There was no option he could learn from those numbers how closely he and Snape were related. He had expected for this kind of papers were easier to read. In the cops tv series he had seen forensic scientists had always been able to get the information the detectives needed from hairs, nails and whatnot. Well, he should have probably taken into account those tv series were fictitious and not even trying hard to stay believable. Oh, well, it seemed that Harry had wasted not a small sum of money on a whim, which served him right, he supposed.

Harry's sight slid down the page, below the table and then he spluttered the coffee. Probability of paternity: 99.9997%? What the hell?! It had to be wrong!

Harry got up and started pacing around the house. What did it mean?! How?! Had Snape known Harry had taken his hair and pranked him to teach him a lesson? The fuck?! The boy's breath was quick as he tugged at his hair.

His eyes caught the sight of the fireplace. Yes, he needed to see Snape and ask for an explanation. There must have been a mistake! He grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder, while still grasping the report in his other hand, stepped into the fireplace and commanded 'Spinner's End'.

Nothing happened. Ugh, Snape must have somehow blocked Harry from using Spinner's End's fireplace outside their classes. Then Harry looked down at himself. Maybe it was for the better he hadn't appeared at the Spinner's End like that – he thought realising he was still wearing his pajamas.

Harry rushed to his bedroom, changed into something more acceptable and Apparated.

He appeared in an alley near the clinic. He quickly crossed the distance between the alley and the clinic and marched in. He was greeted by the very same receptionist as the last time.

''How can I help you?'' she asked politely.

''Uh...'' Harry looked at the report and put it on the counter. ''I've received this... uhm...''

''You have received your DNA report and would like to ask for interpretation?'' the receptionist suggested.

''Well... no. I think there was some kind of mistake. You see, it says that man is almost surely my father,'' Harry tapped his finger against the probability percentage on the paper.

''I can assure you that the clinic maintains the topmost care during the testing. The results are accurate and true,'' the woman explained calmly.

''But it's not possible!'' Harry protested, feeling strangely disconnected, like the world around him wasn't real.

The woman inhaled deeply, most likely having had this kind of conversation numerous times. ''Look, if you came here for the paternity test, you must have at least partially expected this outcome. I know it can be difficult, sorry,'' she added sympathetically.

Harry opened up his mouth, but chose against arguing further. What was he going to tell her? That he had taken the test because he hadn't been aware how it really worked? He looked again at the words reading 'Probability of paternity'. Muggles seemed to trust these tests... people said numbers don't lie, but how it could be possible? His mum had loved his dad – James Potter! Snape hadn't even been a part of equation! But Snape loved Harry's mum...

''Right, sorry,'' Harry blinked, suddenly returning to the reality. ''I'll be going,'' he said picking up the report.

As soon as he was out of muggles sight, he Apparated in front of Snape's door. He needed to see him, to make him explain, to see his reaction.

Harry rang the doorbell. And then again, having not received any answer. And again, and again, and again. He felt his heart speed up.

''Snape!'' Harry called, hitting his clenched fist against the door. The git was not getting out of this.

Finally, the door opened, revealing the black-haired man wearing a scowl on his face. ''What is it, Potter? You'd better pray it is something important enough for you to disturb me,'' he hissed.

''Yeah, it is!'' Harry angrily narrowed his eyes at the man. ''This is important!'' he said shoving the report into Snape's face. ''Care to explain this?!''

''What are you-'' Snape started his usual grumbling, but then his gaze actually focused on the paper. Harry could swear he could see the man grow paler as his mouth opened up slightly in shock. Then his eyes landed on Harry and it would appear the older wizard was actually scared.

And that alone was enough to set Harry's temper on fire. Snape had said nothing, but his reaction had told Harry everything. The receptionist had been right – the report was correct. ''You knew all this time?! When were you going to tell me?!''

The former spy quickly composed himself. ''You were never supposed to find out, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''What?! Don't I deserve to know?!'' Harry shouted.

Snape looked at the younger wizard tiredly. ''Stop yelling in the street. You are making a scene.''

''Then let me in!'' Harry waved his arms furiously.

''I do not think there is anything left to discuss on that matter,'' Snape said firmly.

''There's everything to discuss! All my life turned out to be a lie! Again! I'm sick of it! And what about James?! Did he know?! And why would even my mum would be with you? She loved James, not you!'' words flowed through Harry's mouth like a water through a broken levee, more quickly than his mind could register their meaning. ''Did you force her?! Did you use a love potion like Voldemort's mother had?''

Snape's eyes burnt with anger. ''Potter, I warn you,'' he said slowly.

''Or what?! What are you going to do?'' Harry dared and Snape's silence only encouraged him to keep on going. ''I can't believe I trusted you! I thought you've changed, but you are just still the same bitter petty man. Oh, I am sure you felt wonderful when you made fun of me and my dad knowing well he wasn't even my biological father. 'You're just like your father'? Very fucking funny,'' Harry spat. A twitch of corner of Snape's mouth made Harry want to bury the verbal knife in Snape's gut even deeper. Hell, it probably didn't even hurt the man. ''You disgust me, Snape,'' he said coldly and then turned around and walked away, not giving the older wizard the time to respond.

Despite that, the anger in Harry's guts was still burning vividly and on an instinct he chose his next destination.

---

Severus closed the door with a loud slam. His heart was hammering furiously in his chest. He hit a wall with his fist with a yell and he didn't care in the least it made his hand hurt.

He had known back from the start it had been a disastrous idea to get closer to the boy. The brat had a knack for finding out things he was not supposed to – Potter learning that Severus was his biological father was purely a matter of time. What had he been even thinking? That the boy was going to accept him once he found out the truth? That Severus was made for peaceful life?

Severus was consumed with fury to the degree he had not felt in a long time, probably even since his argument with Dumbledore. Fury that demanded to be manifested outside. And so with a swift motion of Severus' arm his fine china was gone from a kitchen cabinet right to be shattered on the floor.

Severus screamed, breaking his possessions not being enough to calm his inner turmoil. He was perfectly aware he had no claim on the boy. Why then had Potter's words left a hole in his chest? He had told himself countless times not to get attached. He had thought he had not got attached, that he had been simply honouring Lily's memory by helping her son.

My son, his mind unhelpfully added, leading to a kettle joining the china on the floor.

When has he become so attached?, he wondered tugging at his hair, feeling utterly pathetic. Was the spell Severus had used to save the brat's life the reason behind it?

The worst part of all was that Severus had no one to blame but himself. Maybe if he had asked the boy to come inside, like the boy had wanted, things would have turned out differently. But he always had to say the wrong thing and ruin anything of value in his life.

No, inviting Potter would not have changed anything. The boy's father was the golden boy James Potter, who had sacrificed his life for his son. James Potter, the school star. James Potter, the brave member of the Order of the Phoenix. And Severus? Severus was an impostor, an intruder, a stain on the perfect picture of the Potter family. Severus had never meant to have a family of his own. He had not maintained a single one meaningful relationship in his life. He had destroyed his friendship with Lily and even though he did not remember the events that had led to the brat's conception, he was sure it must have been a result of some mistake. While Severus knew himself enough to be certain he had not tricked Lily into sleeping with him like the boy had accused him of, the boy had been right about one thing – Lily had no reason to be with Severus when she had had James.

Truthfully, Minerva probably remained Severus' friend out of pity, too.

The boy should have never found out, alas it was too late now. Obliviating the boy was not truly an option.

How should he get rid of this gaping hole in his chest? Severus' breath was quick and uneven, and he felt like he was on a verge of mental breakdown. He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white and took in a shaky breath through his teeth.

His hopeless desperation was devouring him from the inside and he deserved every single bit of it. People said time heals all wounds, but Severus knew better. There was no way of getting rid of that awful feeling. Calming Draught was not going to help, not in the long run at least.

When the wave of anger passed, leaving only powerlessness behind, Severus finally looked at the mess he had made of the kitchen. He cast a Reparo, bringing back the china and the kettle to their previous unbroken state, and left the kitchen a defeated man without a job, an aim in his life and without a future, a tool outliving its usefulness.

---

Harry Apparated in front of the St. Jerome church in Godric Hollow and headed straight for his parents' grave.

''I found out,'' he said standing in front of the tombstone. ''Did you know too?'' he asked looking at the letters reading 'James Potter' carved in the stone. ''Did you plan on telling me if you got the chance or you also thought I wasn't supposed to find out?'' Harry asked harshly.

For the first time he wished he had not thrown away the resurrection stone. He had so many questions and no one to answer them.

''Were you OK with not being my biological dad?'' Gryffindor's voice lost its cutting edge. ''And why?'' he looked at Lily's name. ''I thought you two loved each other.''

Harry sat on the grass and pulled his knees to his chest. ''Why nobody ever tells me the truth? I'm an adult, I don't need to be protected from it!'' he scoffed, but there was no one to answer his complaint.

Everything in his life was a lie, or at very least truth hidden away from him. First, his parents' death and the wizarding world, then him having a godfather, Harry's role in the war and him having been a horcrux and now his biological father's identity. Harry chuckled darkly – at this point it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, really.

He wondered if his patronus had been a lie too. Shouldn't it be a doe like his both biological parents' patronuses? He took his wand, and let warm feelings about his parents – the ones he thought they had been his parents up until yesterday, fill his chest. ''Expecto patronum!'' he called.

A magnificent stag appeared behind the tombstone. A stag, Harry breathed out, still a stag. He watched his patronus jump gracefully and the guardian unchanged form brought him a little comfort. Not everything was a lie, apparently. His love for his not-bio-dad wasn't, the corners of his lips slightly rose up and went down when the patronus disappeared.

Maybe he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to the news, but Snape had not helped to calm Harry's temper down, having dismissed Harry so quickly. On the other hand, what else should have Harry expected from the man? Harry surely wasn't a child Snape had wanted.

The teenager rested his head against his forearms crossed on his legs, thoughts full of doubt filling his restless mind. He was alone in the maze of lies with no guesses what awaited him behind the nearest turn, and with nobody to guide him through the maze. Who else knew? Was Harry, as usual, the last one to find out?

Chapter Text

Harry spent the night rolling in bed from his one side to the other. Normally, he would have spent a sleepless night from the 30^th of July to 31^st of July, impatiently awaiting his birthday. This year, however, his incoming birthday was all forgotten on that night, the sole reason behind his lack of sleep being his mind occupied with what he had learnt.

Who else knew? Maybe all of the Order, like it had been the case with them hiding from him the fact that Sirius was his godfather? And speaking of his late godfather, had Sirius known? Had it been the reason why Sirius had treated Harry as James' extension? Had Sirius forced himself to see James in Harry to deny the notion that James wasn't Harry's biological father? Had Mrs. Weasley reminded Sirius that Harry wasn't James to remind him as well of Harry's real parentage?

Harry had so many questions and no one to answer them, aside from the greasy git of his biological father, whom Harry had no desire of seeing ever again.

Then another uncertainty arrived – the question whether Dumbledore had known the truth. No, it couldn't be, Harry decided. It would have been too cruel... Dumbledore having asked Snape to sacrifice Harry had been heartless on its own, but if the Headmaster had known, it would have been altogether barbaric. Dumbledore surely would not have asked Snape to sacrifice his son if he had known, right? Harry tried desperately to convince himself of Dumbledore ignorance, but failed to find a plausible argument in late Headmaster's favour.

What kind of horrors must have Snape experienced when he had found out Voldemort had set his mind on killing Harry...

The teenager felt a grip of sadness on his guts and scoffed. That two faced bastard didn't deserve his sympathy. The war was over, Snape had no reason, no right to keep hiding the truth from Harry. Even if – no, even though Harry had been an accident on Snape's side – it didn't take a genius to figure out Harry wasn't meant to happen to Snape. Still, it didn't not absolve the git from having lied to Harry.

However, the picture of heartless, uninterested Snape was disturbed by the events of the last year. Firstly, Snape had saved Harry's life once again, but it could be attributed to his duties as a teacher. Secondly, Snape had given Harry the salve for his Umbridge-itis, something no one had expected him to do. But then, Snape had probably been acting rather on his obligation to Lily than to Harry. There was another thing that didn't fit the picture – the extra Potions. Why had Snape cared so much to get Harry to attend those lessons? It was irrational – the logical outcome of not wanting to have anything to do with Harry would be trying to avoid him much as Snape could. And then extending the offer to the summer? It made no sense.

A bold part of Harry's mind, probably the very same that had deemed doing the genetic test a wonderful idea, suggested that Snape had looked for means of getting closer to Harry.

'Hadn't you felt at times that Snape cared?' the voice in his head pressed.

''Don't be stupid,'' Harry whispered forcefully and rolled on his other side offended at himself for coming up with such a ridiculous idea. The thought of Snape actually wanting to act on his fatherhood was simply bollocks.

The Burrow was already a crowded place when Harry arrived. All of the Weasleys that were supposed to take part in Harry's birthday party were there – Ginny, Ron, George, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley and even Percy. Hermione was of course awaiting Harry at the Burrow too, making the Neville and Luna the only invitees missing.

Luna appeared shortly after. ''I'm sorry for being late, but I couldn't just leave earlier. Umgubular Slashkilters were around the door and, as you know, stepping over them brings bad luck,'' the blonde explained as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Harry opened up his mouth to say something, but Ginny beat him to it. ''Well, we're happy you got that sorted out,'' she said hugging her eccentric friend.

''We surely wouldn't wish bad luck to anyone,'' Ron said flatly, earning herself a disapproving glance from his sister.

The teenagers sat in the living room, waiting with the cake and candles for Neville to arrive, while Harry acted mostly as a listener of the conversation rather than actually taking part in it.

''I'm having a Magizoologist course entrance exam in a month,'' Luna said out of the blue.

''I'll keep my fingers crossed. Hagrid's gonna be so proud of you,'' Ginny smiled.

''How are your preparations for the Auror entrance exam going?'' Luna asked two boys.

'Swimmingly,'' Ron deadpanned. Hermione was already killing him with the study plan of her making.

Harry grumbled affirmatively, his tone matching Ron's sarcasm, but as he was lost in thoughts of Snape, Potions were the last thing of importance about the man at the moment. Yesterday had been a distaster, but he couldn't really see it going any better. Harry buried his face in his hands, tips of his fingers digging into his hair and he groaned over the internal struggle. Everything felt wrong about the predicament. Why had his mum cheated on the man Harry had thought to be his dad? Hadn't she loved James? And why had she made up with Snape? Maybe she had felt sorry for not having stepped in when James had bullied Snape? Even if she had, why had she slept with him? It hadn't been some kind of repayment, right? That would have been too messed up, he cringed internally at the idea.

''Ron is... making progress,'' Hermione glanced at her boyfriend.

''Are you alright?'' Ginny softly touched Harry's shoulder, bringing him back to the Burrow living room.

''Yeah,'' Harry nodded, putting on a happy face. ''I just couldn't sleep, that's all.''

''Come on, mate! Being nineteen isn't that bad!'' Ron jokingly hit Harry's back. ''Right, Mione?''

''Yeah,'' Hermione bit her nail.

Luna tilted her head, curiously looking at the bookworm. ''You are nervous too,'' she said in her dreamy voice, but it was a statement, not a question.

Hermione fidgeted her fingers before moving onto playing with her hair. ''I've got a job interview on Monday,'' she admitted reluctantly.

''What? You haven't said anything,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Hermione looked away. ''I didn't want to bring bad luck with talking too much about something that is not certain.''

''Well, I know for sure that the Ministry is absolutely dumb is they don't take you,'' Ron smirked with the silly smirk he usually had on his face when he was flirting with Hermione. Apparently it worked as the girl's face turned a bit redder.

George sneaked into the living room. ''Have I heard the mention of the Ministry? Come on, Hermione, you are cooler than our dad and Percy. Don't waste your life like that!''

A ring of the doorbell interrupted the conversation and teenagers rose from their seats. Except for Harry who was too preoccupied with the upsetting news of the previous day to notice the sound.

''It's probably Neville. It's your birthday, you should greet him,'' Ginny said yanking her boyfriend's arm to get him moving.

Ginny naturally was right – it was Neville apologising for being late and explaining that his grandma had kept him a little bit longer. Then Neville presented to Harry a box wrapped in a present paper.

''Uh, we were actually thinking about giving presents after the cake,'' Hermione reminded embarrassedly.

''Uh, it's OK. I can open it with the rest,'' Harry took the gift from his friend. ''Thanks, Neville,'' he smiled slightly.

''Yeah, besides we're gonna get to the cake soon, anyway,'' Ginny looked at Ron from the corner of her eye, knowing well he was mostly thinking about eating the cake right now.

Mrs. Weasley was a true mistress of the cakes. This time she prepared for Harry a cake shaped like a capital 'A' with a wand.

''Now, dear, make a wish!'' Mrs. Weasley urged.

Harry leant over the table and blew the candles just to cross this activity out, but his head for the very first time was void of any wishes. Not that anyone knew, as they cheered for him as if he had made the boldest wish.

Then time for presents arrived. Harry opened every one of them with a thankful smile on his face, but frankly, he couldn't bring himself to care about them, though some of them were very nice. Next, the cake was cut and eveybody received a piece.

''What is it?'' Ginny asked, her voice was laced with concern.

Harry dug his fork into his piece of cake. ''It's nothing. Told you already,'' he shrugged, but Ginny's hand on his shoulder steadied him.

She looked him deep into eyes as if she was trying to read his very soul. ''You're an awful actor, y'know?''

''I'm not acting,'' Harry scoffed.

''Come on, you're not enjoying your party at all. It's unlike you! Harry,'' Ginny said a bit more firmly, forcing him to look at her. ''You can tell me, whatever it is.'' Harry opened up his mouth, but Ginny cut in. ''Just don't say it's nothing,'' she warned.

''I... uhm,'' Harry sighed loudly, unsure what to do. Yes, he knew he should tell Ginny what was bothering him, but on the other hand, it was too much. Would she believe him? He still hardly could believe it! What would Ginny think about him if she learnt the truth?

''Harry,'' Ginny pleaded.

''Can we...'' Harry sighed again in defeat. ''Can we go somewhere where there's not so many people?''

''Sure,'' Ginny said and she led him to her room.

Harry stood there, his head still full of doubts. There was no turning back once he told Ginny. But what he was going to tell her in the first place? 'Hey, so it turns out Snape is my dad'? No, there was no way of putting it correctly into words. The look Ginny was giving him was anticipatory, which was even worse than her verbal urging.

''I don't know where to start,'' Harry admitted powerlessly as he sat on Ginny's bed.

''Harry...'' Ginny sat next to him and softly rubbed his back. ''You can count on me. I'll help you the best I can.''

''Yeah,'' Harry chuckled drily. ''I don't know how you can solve it.'' Now Ginny looked truly worried. Harry grimaced, turning his face away. He didn't want to worry her and it wasn't even a thing she should be worried about. ''Argh,'' he grumbled in frustration. ''Muffliato!'' he waved his wand.

''Is it truly necessary?'' Ginny asked cautiously.

''Ah-Can I ask you to keep to yourself what I'm gonna tell you?'' Harry looked at his girlfriend with begging eyes.

''Naturally!'' Ginny assured quickly.

The boy put his fingers under his glasses and pressed them to his eyes. ''I don't know how to tell it,'' he mumbled from behind his hands. ''I found out I've been lied to about my family... again,'' he added in a self-deprecating manner. Harry inhaled deeply. Better rip off the bandage quickly, right? ''Snape is my father.''

A thick silence fell and Harry looked at his girlfriend to see what kind of reaction his confession brought. Ginny scrunched up her nose, not unlike her youngest brother did and blinked, probably still processing the information.

''Yeah...'' she said after a minute. ''I can imagine it could be a lot to deal with. I don't wanna sound discouraging, but are you really sure about it?'' she looked at him, her eyes scanning his face. At least she took it seriously and that was not a bad place to start.

''Yes,'' Harry admitted unwillingly. ''I don't think I have the right means to question it,'' he picked at the ends of his shirt.

''Oh... And did he tell you that? Is that why he asked you to come for Potions in summer?''

''No, I-,'' Harry scratched the back of his neck, ashamed of his action that had come back to bite him. ''I kinda found out on my own. But that's not the point,'' he added quickly, almost begging Ginny not to ask about how he had found out.

''But does he even know?'' Ginny asked carefully.

''Oh, yeah, he does know, alright,'' Harry sneered, recalling Snape's reaction to the genetic test. ''Didn't look so surprised when I told him.''

Ginny's eyes widened and she squeezed Harry's hand. ''So you've talked to him? What did he say?''

''That I hadn't been supposed to find out,'' Harry huffed.

''Oh, that son of a bitch!'' Ginny exclaimed to Harry's surprise.

''Could you not call my grandmother a bitch?'' Harry tried to make a joke, but his jaded tone killed it altogether. ''Eileen Prince seemed nice, I guess,'' he said, thinking about Hermione showing them the mention of Eileen in the newspaper.

''That's messed up,'' Ginny hummed contemplatively.

''Yeah,'' Harry said quietly. ''Like, I knew Snape loves my mum, but I thought he loves her more, you know, platonically,'' he added lamely.

''Harry,'' Ginny gave her boyfriend's hand another squeeze. ''If he doesn't want you in his life, it's his loss. Not that I'm surprised, Ron's right – he's a git.''

Harry bit his lip. Snape hadn't said directly he hadn't wanted Harry. It had been more of implied. Frankly, Harry hadn't given Snape much space to say anything. Sure, the git had refused to let Harry into his home, but maybe he would have said something if Harry hadn't lashed out at him. He exhaled slowly. ''Well, about my conversation with Snape... uh, I wouldn't really call it talking,'' he admitted embarrassedly.

''Would you like to talk with him?'' Ginny asked softly.

''I-I dunno,'' Harry deflated. ''I've got so many questions!''

''He doesn't have to be a part of your life if you don't want him to. You don't owe him that,'' she said firmly.

''It's not that...'' Harry looked down at his feet. Among all this turmoil he hadn't had the time to spare the thought of wanting or not wanting Snape in his life and the sudden appearance of this subject took him off guard. ''I just don't think he'd like to see me. I might have said a bit too much,'' he grimaced.

''Ah,'' Ginny sighed knowingly, probably thinking about the many outbursts Harry had had at the Potions Master. ''Well, he's already seen some of the worst of you-''

''Hey!'' Harry protested.

''The point is, he may be on talking terms with you again in some time... maybe few months,'' Ginny pointed out. ''If you want to, of course. But maybe, not for his sake but for your own, if you haven't already made up your mind, make the decision after you've talked to him. If he still refueses to speak to you, at least you'll know it's not you but him.''

Harry hummed in response. Few months sounded less than ideal, but maybe Ginny was right? Her reasoning sounded pretty convincing. She knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to rest until he received his answers, and he knew it too.

''Well,'' Harry clapped his hands against his thighs. ''I suppose we should get back downstairs.''

''Are you sure you are alright?'' Ginny eyed him worriedly. ''You have the right to be upset about... it. We can stay here a little bit longer,'' she suggested.

Harry got up from Ginny's bed. ''They're probably wondering where we've gone. Let's not give Ron and George any false ideas,'' he chuckled humourlessly.

---

Harry was decided he needed to reach out Snape again. However, he really didn't have the patience to wait several months to make sure Snape wasn't mad at him. Frankly, he didn't think he could ever be sure of that without talking to the man.

His initial anger had mostly burnt out, leaving longing for answers in its wake. And shame for the things Harry had told his... ugh, whatever Snape was to him. Truth be told, based on what Harry knew about the man, he didn't believe Snape would be capable of using a love potion on Lily. It had been an accusation that escaped Harry's mouth without his mind truly registering it. Harry wanted to believe that his mum had been tricked, at least then he would know what to think about it. But as much as Harry wanted to, he couldn't convince himself of Snape's deceit and that posed a picture in various shades of grey rather than in plain to understand black-and-white. Once again against his will he caught himself feeling sorry for Snape.

On the other hand, as much as he wanted his answers here and now, he wasn't that excited about the idea of seeing his former teacher so soon after the argument.

Harry spent entire Sunday and Monday wrestling with his thoughts. Was there even a point in going to Cokeworth if Snape was going to kick him out?

And then he was also sorry for James Potter, a man who had died for a child that hadn't even been his own to begin with. Harry wasn't even a Potter and he didn't know where it left him standing. His patronus hasn't changed and his love for the man he had until recently thought to be his dad hasn't wavered. Still, he couldn't stop from wondering if his non-biological dad had known the truth. If he had known – how had he reacted? Had he accepted Harry even though he wasn't his son? Would he have treated Harry worse if he had got a chance of seeing Harry grow up? Had his parents' marriage been ruined? Had he forgiven Lily? And if he hadn't known, how would he have reacted?

Ugh, sometimes being altruistic didn't pay off. He really should have kept the resurrection stone.

And what about the Potter family heirloom? Were the things his parents had left for him even his? Harry wasn't a Potter, after all. Which meant the invisibility cloak didn't belong to Harry but the whoever was James Potter's closest relative in the line of Ignotus Peverell, right?

Having cooled down a little about the discovery concerning his lineage, Harry noticed also some other minor inconvencies that had fled his attention.

For instance, what about the Potions? Not that Harry would miss the classes that much, but were they cancelled and Snape would kick him out if he came? Or maybe they weren't cancelled because Snape was Snape and had carried on teaching Harry despite the fact Harry had said the most outrageous things about the former spy, and would get mad if Harry skipped the classes? But then it would be awkward to bring the subject of... well... the genetic test having arrived for the classes. Which meant he should bring back the subject before Wednesday... shit.

On Tuesday he found himself under the pressure of time to make his decision. And while he tried to delay the moment as much as he could, after lunch he could no longer deny he was running out of time. But there was no right choice, was there?

Harry walked restlessly around the house for another hour or so and with burdened heart he had made the choice of which he wasn't exactly certain.

Firstly, he entered his bedroom and scanned his wardrobe for some nicer clothing. Then he brushed his hair, which action proved itself to be only partially effective as his hair refused to cooperate. Nevertheless, Harry tried to make his hair look tidy the best he could to the point it served more as a mean of delying meeting with Snape.

Harry glanced at the mirror in the bathroom and reluctantly admitted his hair wasn't going to look any better. He walked out in the street, not knowing what to expect, and Apparated.

This time Harry appeared by the Cokeworth's river, where it was less likely to accidentally bump into any muggle. Not that the chances of meeting anyone in this ghost town were high. His only companion on his short road to Spinner's End was anxiety gripping tightly on his stomach.

Finally he stopped in front of Snape's house' door. Harry took in a deep breath and raised his hand to press the doorbell. His hand hung in hesitation inches from the button. It wasn't too late yet, he could still retreat and Snape would be none the wiser of Harry's trip to Cokeworth. But being left alone with only scraps of the truth wouldn't do. On the other hand, maybe it was still to early to see the man?

With a lump in his throat he pressed the button. The doorbell on the other side of the door rang, but Harry heard no footsteps. Well, maybe it was a sign to walk away, he thought, turning around. Harry jumped, startled by the sudden creak of the door and with horror looked at the man clad in black. Snape looked positively sleep-deprived, his complexion even more unhealthy than usual and eyebags under his eyes. Even his hair appeared to be more greasy.

''Potter,'' Snape said coldly. It certainly wasn't a greeting, but it also wasn't a question why Harry had come.

Harry felt his throat go as dry as if he hadn't had a sip of water in an entire day. As usual, all pre-prepared speeches evaporated from his mind. He could almost hear his braincells rattling in his head. ''Uh... Don't close the door!'' he said when he saw resignation in Snape's eyes. ''I'm-I'm here to talk... please! Look, I'm sorry about the things I said... I know I said too much,'' he bit the inside of his cheek and turned his face away. He didn't want to see the look on Snape's face. ''I was just angry and I didn't really mean it. So can we talk?'' he found the courage to look at the man on the other side of the door.

''I don't know. Can you, Potter?'' Snape crossed his arms unwelcomingly.

''I'm not gonna yell this time! I promise!'' Harry begged.

Snape exhaled tiredly and for a moment Harry wondered if he was to going to deflate like a balloon. ''Fine, come in, Potter,'' Snape spat.

''Not Potter,'' Harry said crossing the threshold, earning himself a surprised glance from the older wizard. ''Harry. Just Harry.''

''Are you certain you want me to call you by your first name?'' Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. ''We both know the 'Potter' part is not true,'' he said quietly.

''Very well,'' Snape nodded. ''However, if it is any consolation, there is some Potter blood in your veins,'' he said leading Harry to the tiny living room.

''Really?'' Harry looked curiously at the older man. So it was true what Sirius had said – pure-blood families truly were all related.

''Yes, James Potter and I share a common great-grandfather in Felix Potter, father of Henry Potter after whom you were named, I presume,'' Snape explained plainly as he sat down in his armchair.

''Oh, wow,'' were the first words that came to Harry mind. ''Do you think he knew?'' the boy asked.

''I do not know. I have only learnt after my graduation... my mother has mentioned it at some point,'' Snape waved his hand dismissively. ''You should know that Henry and Seraphina were half-siblings. Seraphina wasn't a legitimate child and from what I've collected the half-siblings had never been close. She later married Oliver Prince and the rest is history. But I suppose this is not the reason you came here,'' Snape cleared his throat.

It turned out Harry wasn't the only child in the Potter family tree that was an outcome of an affair. This discovery didn't really make him feel any better.

''Yeah, well, uh...'' Harry insecurily scratched the back of his hand and suddenly he found the armrest of the couch he was sitting on very interesting.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Snape spoke. ''You are right that you have the right to know,'' he said matter-of-factly. ''However, it appears there are several misunderstandings. I have found out not so long ago. The majority of my years that I have been teaching you I have been ignorant to our... relation.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''How? Haven't you had any suspicions?'' Harry could hardly believe it. Out of all people he expected Snape to do his Maths correctly.

Snape closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. ''Will you let me finish?'' he demanded. ''I do not remember what has passed between your mother and me,'' he admitted a bit awkwardly. ''I had been just as surprised as you, if not more, when I had found out.''

''So you were obliviated?'' Harry asked.

Snape clenched his fists. ''For Merlin's sake! I do not remember!'' The older wizard breathed out, the conversation was clearly as difficult for him as for Harry.

Yes, it made sense that Snape didn't remember why he didn't remember, Harry decided. ''How did you find out?'' he tilted his head curiously.

Snape drummed his fingers on the armrest of his armchair. ''Do you remember when you came to return my memories?'' he asked at last, once he had set his mind how to tackle this subject.

''Yeah... was there something in your memories that made you remember it?'' Harry picked up.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, apparently let down by the question. ''And do you remember the potion you accidentally knocked over?'' Harry nodded insecurily. ''The potion that you broke was the Bloodline potion. You should know that the purpose of this potion is to determine how closely two people are related. For that purpose samples of blood coming from two different people have to be added to the potion. When you tried to pick up the pieces of the bottle, you contaminated the potion with your blood... I was reckless enough to repeat your mistake and I cut myself on the edges of shells, also adding my own blood to the potion.''

''So you spent entire year of teaching me knowing that-?!'' Harry struggled to get words through his throat.

''I thought we were supposed to talk, Po-Harry,'' Snape said coldly, but the slip of his tongue wasn't lost on Harry. Harry crossed his arms unhappily and Snape went on. ''Yes, as I said it was not right of me to keep you from that knowledge. However, I had done it for your sake, not for mine.''

''Yeah, right,'' Harry rolled his eyes.

''It took me substantial time to accept it not only as probable, but also as true. Remember that to my knowledge your mother and I parted our ways after the argument and I haven't seen her since our graduation. I expected that you would have also struggled to believe it, and if you had believed it, that this information would have taken a toll on your self-worth,'' Snape explained.

''Gee, thanks,'' Harry huffed. ''It's great to have a caring relative at last,'' he deadpanned.

Snape promptly pretended not to hear the last sentence. ''But now that muggle science has supported the evidence, none of us can reasonably deny what we both know. Speaking of which, it beggs a question how have you come into possession of the report?'' Snape raised an eyebrow.

Harry felt his face grow hotter. ''Uh, so I-'' he stumbled on his own words. How to say it in a way that wasn't going to make him look like an idiot? Oh, right, Snape already knew Harry was an idiot, he thought unhappily. ''Well, you know that saying about pure-blood families... um, I, uh, wanted to see how closely we were related?'' Harry cringed hearing what he had just said. At least he had mercifully skipped the part in which Snape had accidentally called him 'son'... Snape probably didn't remember that, anyway.

''Ah, I really should not be as surprised as I am,'' Snape shot Harry a disapproving, yet strangely amused glare.

Harry hid his face in his hands, wishing the ground opened up and swallowed him whole and regretting his decision to see Snape. ''Oh, shut up,'' he mumbled. He needed space to think... Snape had known the entire year. He had known when Harry had spoken in his favour in front of the Wizangamot. He had known when he had imposed denetions on Harry for having refused extra Potions. He had known when he had saved Harry's life. Suddenly his sympathy for the man grew stronger.

''Wallowing in could-have-beens is useless,'' Snape said, misinterpreting Harry's contemplative silence. ''Even if I had known from the beginning, I could not have taken you in. I could not have granted you the protection your wretched aunt's home had given you. I could not have looked after you and remained a spy at the same time. If Death Eaters had known, my credibility in their eyes would have been lost, which could have possibly changed the fate of the entire war.''

Harry nodded. Even though he hadn't thought about the matter brought forth by Snape, his subconscience must have considered the possibility without Harry even realising it as he found himself feeling a certain longing, not unlike the one he had felt when he had stared for hours at the mirror of Erised.

''Do you think that anyone knew?'' Harry asked.

''I have no idea,'' Snape admitted. ''But if anyone had, they surely made sure to keep their silence.''

Snape's answers didn't really explain much to Harry. They were probably the only two people in the entire world aware of the fact that James Potter wasn't Harry's dad, which meant that nobody knew why Lily had cheated on James or how Snape and Lily had got together. ''Haven't you ever wished to find out what happened between you and my mum?''

''I had more pressing matters to tend to,'' Snape replied sharply, the subject being clearly uneasy for him.

Then a thought struck Harry. He took out the invisibility cloak from his bag and extended his hand in his former teacher's direction. Snape furrowed his eyes questioningly. ''It's yours, you should take it.''

''Don't be ridiculous, Pot-Harry,'' the older wizard huffed.

''You are the oldest surviving descendant of Ignotus Peverell that I know of and pretty closely related to my da-James Potter. Which means the cloak is yours, Snape,'' Harry pointed out.

''Firstly, the cloak is yours,'' Snape raised his hand, telling Harry not to interrupt him. ''Let me ask instead: is Grimmauld Place your property?''

''Yes,'' Harry wrinkled his forehead.

''And is Kreacher your house elf?''

''Yeah, so what of it?'' Harry asked impatiently.

''Up until your godfather's demise, 12 Grimmauld Place was inherited solely by pure-blood wizards. Thanks to your godfather's will, you are its rightful owner, even though you are a half-blood. Same follows for the cloak, I presume. We have no reason to believe James Potter did not consider you his son, regardless if he was aware or not. In his last will he made you his only heir, which includes inheriting the invisibility cloak. Therefore, you are its owner. Moreover, I neither want nor need your cloak.'' Harry looked doubtfully at the cloak in his hand. It made sense – if he hadn't been the owner of the cloak, he wouldn't have become the Master of Death, but it still felt wrong. ''Keep it, Harry,'' Snape insisted. ''Secondly, it will not do for me to call you by your first name and for you to call me by my surname. You may call me Severus,'' Snape, uh Severus? offered. ''You don't have to if you don't wish to,'' he added, seeing doubt on Harry's face.

''It's not that-'' Harry said carefully. ''It's just, uh, odd. But thanks,'' he scratched the back of his neck.

Now it was Snape's-urm, Severus' turn to fidget with his fingers. ''I understand if you do not wish to maintain any sort of relation with me. For the majority of our acquaintance I have been most unpleasant to you. I will not hold any grudge against you if you choose not to see again after you leave today,'' he said in a business-like voice. At first Harry thought Sn-Severus was actually going to apologise, but apparently he gave the man too much credit. Former Potions Master's words reminded Harry of what Ginny had said to him the previous day and while Ginny's words had sounded encouraging and supportive, when they came from Snape they sounded like an excuse to cut his ties with Harry. Like he was trying to burden Harry with the decision so that his hands remained clean.

''Well, if you don't want it, I wouldn't want to burden you with my presence,'' said Harry and he felt disappointment forming in his chest. He didn't know why. Was he that needy? Snape-Severus-uh, whatever, had never been on his list of possible parental figures, yet being rejected by him still hurt.

The older wizard exhaled slowly. ''I did not ask you what I wanted. I asked you what you wanted,'' he said flatly. ''But I am not going to press you into making your choice right away if you are not ready yet.''

Harry didn't think he would ever be ready to make the decision and yet... hadn't he made the choice already? Weren't the disappointment and hurt and longing he had felt today the signs of his choice? ''I think I'd like to get to know you better,'' Harry admitted quietly. He had expected some sort of answer from the other man, but the former spy was unusually silent. Harry looked up to look at... at his biological father and there was again that expression on Slytherin's face... the one he had seen when Harry had defended Snape in the court, when Harry had defended young Slytherin student from Dennis and that Ravenclaw girl... He still couldn't decipher it. ''And what about the Potions?'' Harry changed the subject to break the uncomfortable silence.

''Should you wish to, we shall continue,'' the older wizard proposed.

''Yeah, that's, uh, a good idea,'' Harry said, not knowing what else his meetings with Snape would look like. What else were they going to do? Sit in the living room and sip tea? He looked out of the window and noticed it was slowly getting dark and he felt terribly tired by the conversation. He still had a million questions to ask, but hopefully there was going the time to ask them. ''I think I should be going. It's getting late,'' he said awkwardly as he was standing up from the couch.

Snape stood up as well. ''I'm not going to keep you here any longer if you don't want to. But if you wish to, I could brew another Bloodline potion for you to see the result,'' he offered unusually hastily. ''It takes 23 days for potion to mature.''

''Yeah, sure,'' Harry said taken off guard. ''Uh, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow?'' he asked taking few steps in the direction of the fireplace.

''Unless you want to change the day of our Potions classes. I imagine Wednesday may be suboptimal,'' Snape intertwined his fingers.

''No, it's OK...'' why he had a feeling Snape tried to prolong this meeting as much as he could? ''But maybe we could have Potions on Thursday instead of Wednesday next week?'' he asked.

''I see no problems with that,'' Snape said and when Harry was standing by the fireplace about to grab a fistful of Floo Powder, he called. ''Harry?''

''Yeah?'' Harry looked sceptically at the other man, who walked to one of his bookshelves and after a short search, took out a book.

''I think it will be beneficial if you read the chapter on the Bloodline potion before you see the result,'' Snape said handing the younger wizard the book. ''Just return the book in good condition,'' he spoke more firmly.

''Uh, yeah, thanks,'' Harry took the book. ''I will,'' he said quickly, without even thinking about it. ''See you tomorrow, I guess?''

''See you tomorrow, Harry,'' softness of Snape's voice startled Harry.

Harry took a fistful of Floo Powder and threw it saying '12 Grimmauld Place', and his mind was a concoction of anticipation and anxiety.

Chapter Text

Severus kept looking at the fireplace for few more seconds after Potte-Harry's exit, finding it hard at first to convince himself the conversation had in the fact taken place. He had suspected that there was a possibility of... of the boy coming back for his answers, but he had deemed the possibility reasonably low. Certainly he had not expected for the Gryffindor to come knocking on his door so soon.

Having scorned himself for standing in the middle of the living room so uselessly, he took a step towards the bookcase concealing the staircase, but an object in the corner of his vision drew his attention. He looked at the couch and at the invisibility cloak on it. Severus shook his head tiredly and opened the hidden passageway.

Having reached his laboratory, he took a cauldron from a short cabinet and put it on the desk. Then he walked to the taller cabinet and began collecting ingredients. The sooner he started brewing the Bloodline potion, the better. Maybe he would manage to finish it before the boy changed his mind.

Harry – Severus still felt uneasy thinking of the boy by his name, even though he had called him by it earlier that day, must have been truly desperate for any parental figure in his life to have decided he had wanted to get to know Severus better, as he had put it. But that observation was not groundbreaking in a tiniest – the boy had assessed Black, out of all people, a worthy parental figure, which was speaking volumes about the Gryffindor.

Severus knew he had never been supposed to be a father, but he would have put Black on the list of people who should be tasked with raising a child even lower than himself. He had not met such a careless and irresponsible person in his life, the closest person being Lupin forgetful about his medicine while surrounded by literal children.

The man tsked at the memory of the Marauders as he dug through his collection of bottles. Two of them had had children, but never got a chance to see their children grow. Inspite of his deepmost disdain for James Potter, he was well aware that awful, spoiled, arrogant brat had been a much better father in the short time he had got to play that role than Severus could have ever been. The Slytherin did not know diddly about being a father, especially a wixen one, having never seen to eye with his muggle father. Even though he had grown up in the Spinner's End, he knew Thobias Snape had not been a representative of a stereotypical muggle father – the truth was the majority of muggle children appeared to have more functional relationships with their fathers.

Severus was even more clueless about wizarding fatherhood. Maybe he could try to emulate some of what he had seen Lucius and Arthur doing, but he did not know how he could make those two styles of parenting work simultaneously. Unfortunately, reaching out the only two couples of parents he had been on friendly terms years ago to ask for an advice was not an option, due to their rather obvious and justified hatred for him.

He also doubted there were any publications that would help him navigate through this situation. Naturally, Flourish and Blotts offered a fine collection of books of any sort, including parenting guides concerning raising children and communicating with teenagers, but Severus would not expect a book on the subject of communicating with teenagers having skipped the 'raising a child' phase.

Fool, Severus thought, chopping mosaic flower.

Who had ever mentioned parenting? Potter, Harry, he corrected himself, was an adult wizard – he did not need any parenting. Nevertheless, the boy had decided to stick around Severus a little bit longer and the older wizard was determined to offer the boy his support the best he could. But how did one show his child, who had all the reason to hate him, he came with good intentions? How not to scare the boy away?

Severus groaned, quietly wishing he had someone to discuss his doubts with. However, he could not tell anyone – the secret was not his to speak about, and it would be unfair to Harry.

In those wishes for an advice his mind drifted towards Minerva. He really should get back to her, having refused a meeting on Saturday. Knowing the old witch, she was probably getting concerned about him, not that any of them would ever admit it.

The former Potions Master loathed how anxiously he was observing his fireplace. The boy... Harry had a tendency to arrive late. However, there was a non-zero chance of the boy having changed his mind overnight. Annoyed by the way he was twitching his fingers, Severus clipped his hands behind his back, but he still felt the irksome tenseness of his jaw.

Finally, Harry appeared in the fireplace, accompanied by a grey cloud of dust.

''Sorry for being late,'' the boy coughed, waving his hand in an attempt of chasing away the dust. ''I just was-''

''Looking for this?'' Severus raised his eyebrow, having produced seemingly out of thin air the darned cloak and presented it to the child.

Pot-Harry's face grew a bit redder. ''Uhm, yes, thanks,'' he cleared his throat and took the cloak.

''Don't forget to take it with you this time,'' Severus said flatly, watching the boy put the cloak into his bag. It truly seemed that the boy never parted his ways with the cloak.

''Uh, yeah, I'll try,'' the boy looked at his feet. ''Uh, can I ask you a question?'' he raised his gaze at Severus.

''Go ahead,'' the man nodded, having fully expected for... Harry to flood him with questions. Part of him desired to point about that by having asked the question the boy had already asked a question, thus making his question a waste of breath.

''When is your birthday?''

Severus blinked at the boy. Out of all possible questions, he did not foresee this one. ''9^th of January.'' Did the boy truly have to ask that question right now? Severus thought of what he was keeping in his former room at the moment. Maybe it was his cue to present it to the boy, but then, knowing Potter, Harry that is, he would not be able to focus on Potions.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. ''So you are 39?''

''Yes,'' Severus replied a bit drily, congratulating himself on refraining from mock-complimenting Harry's Maths skills.

''Are your parents dead?'' the Gryffindor asked cautiously.

''And can you see them here?'' Severus asked impatiently.

''Right,'' the boy said, biting inside of his cheek.

''If you do not have any more questions, I believe we should move to the laboratory. Veritavisus is waiting.'' The boy deflated at Severus' words, but followed the older wizard upstairs. ''I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from setting my house on fire this time,'' the man added with a smirk.

''I didn't set your house on fire!'' the boy protested. ''It was only cauldron that burst in flames,'' he huffed.

''Yes, and any uncontrolled fire is considered a hazard,'' Severus pointed out silkily.

Once the two wizards entered the laboratory, the older one said: ''You will start Veritavisus anew. Do you have your notebook with you?''

''Yes,'' the boy sighed.

''Then open it at the Veritavisus recipe.''

Harry unhappily followed the order and started collecting ingredients for the potion. Severus observed the child... his child pouting at the task and he wondered if it was supposed to go like this. Maybe he should drop teaching the boy Potions altogether? The child was going to run away soon enough if Severus kept tiring him with the subject. On the other hand, no one had forced Harry to continue the classes, and Merlin knew he really needed them for his entrance exam.

''Harry?'' Severus called as he watched the boy stir the potion.

''Yeah?''

''Could you remind me what I have told you about stirring Veritavisus after adding unicorn hair?'' Severus asked expectantly as he crossed his arms.

''Uh, that I should stir... um, counterclockwise?'' the boy wrinkled his nose.

''No, you should stir counterclockwise only when you add tincture of Demiguise. Before that the stirring pattern resembles the infinity sign,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

''Oh, yeah, right. Sorry,'' Harry looked away. Severus noticed he tended to do that a lot when he was embarrassed.

The boy corrected his stirring pattern, but Severus knew it was already too late for that potion. However, he was not going to stop Harry from working on it. One of the abilities that a potion-maker should possess was the ability to decide when to start anew, due to a potion being unsalvageable.

Next Harry added tincture of Demiguise and changed his stirring pattern accordingly. The potion turned navy-blue, while at this point it should be azure, but the boy remained none the wiser, it seemed.

Having finished the final step of the recipe, Harry asked: ''Is the potion ready now? Will it work if I drink it?''

Severus felt his stomach shrink at the idea of this poor attempt at Veritavisus being drunk by the foolish boy in front of him. ''Oh, if what you mean by working is making the drinker lose their sight, then you may drink the potion,'' he said harshly.

Harry looked warily at the potion in the cauldron. ''Is it that bad?''

''Take your guess, Harry,'' Severus said silkily. Did the boy have to ask so many useless questions?

''Sorry, I'm awful at Potions, I can't help it!'' the boy threw his hands slightly agitated.

Severus exhaled slowly. ''Even if you had brewed the potion correctly, it would not have been ready until the next week.'' The look on the boy's face suggested that maybe it would be a good idea to give this particular potion a rest. The probability of it appearing as an exam task was minuscule, anyway. ''I believe we should return to Veritavisus at later date. It is possible that I have prepared too difficult exercises for you,'' Severus admitted. ''I will try to come up with something more fitting your skill set for our next classes.''

''Like a Forgetfulness potion?'' Harry said humourlessly.

The boy was truly difficult to reason with, Severus groaned inwardly, trying not to give away how tiring raising the boy's spirits was. ''Listen, Harry, you may not be a Potions champion, but you have achieved an 'E' in your Potions N.E.W.T. Maybe you are not as hopeless as you think, have you considered it?'' The boy remained silent. ''Alright, let's call it a day,'' Severus said and the boy nodded.

They walked downstairs through the hidden corridor.

''I know it is already past your birthday, but I hope you are not going to mind a late gift?'' Severus said opening the secret door to the living room.

''Oh?'' Harry narrowed his eyes curiously at the older wizard. Thankfully he stopped moping about Potions.

''Come with me,'' Severus waved at Harry and led them to the former spy's childhood bedroom.

The Gryffindor insecurily walked into the room, probably thinking about Severus' having forbidden him from entering it, and then his face lit up at the sight of a cage with a big snowy owl inside. He most likely didn't even notice how ascetic the room looked with only a bed and a small wardrobe.

''Is it...?'' Harry asked in a voice full of wonder.

''I know how much you cared for your owl. I would not be surprised if this one was related to your first one,'' Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. He didn't have much experience in gifting.

''May I?'' the boy looked at the older wizard and having received a permission, he opened up the cage.

The owl watched Harry's hand distrustfully and then pecked it. The boy retreated his hand, waving it in an attempt to diminish pain. ''I think I didn't make a good first impression,'' he joked.

''Do you have any ideas for the name?''

''Hmm...'' the boy looked at the owl. ''Hildegard? Do you like it, girl?'' he asked the bird.

The owl tilted its head watching its new owner curiously and hooted.

''I think it means yes,'' the boy smiled. ''I don't know what to say...'' he looked at Severus. ''Are you sure I can keep her?''

''Yes, she's yours, Harry.''

''Thank you, Severus. I-'' the boy's voice wavered and he looked away. It was quite obvious he was uncomfortable with using Severus' first name.

Severus did not know what to say, either. He did not expect for Harry's reaction to leave him at loss of words. ''Have you...'' he hesitated for a second as he opted for a change of subject. ''Told anyone?''

Harry briefly glanced at him. ''Only Ginny. Do you think I shouldn't?'' he asked after a moment.

Merlin, this child. ''No, I think you have loyal, trustworthy friends and you should look after your relationship with them.''

''Oh,'' the boy said, clearly not having anticipated that answer.

''If you want my opinion, you ought to tell your friends. I have watched you brats for years and I know they value you for who you are. They will not think any less of you because of your relation to me,'' Severus said, thinking how easily one could lose their dearest friends. Friendships thrived on honesty and he could not let this child lose his own. ''You are an owner of the information as much as I am now. I will not hold you from telling anyone. However, I would advice a certain degree of discretion – you must be aware there are people who would love to share the story with the world at your expense. And should you ever have a ludicrous idea of sharing the information with your wretched aunt, I expect you to share the memory with me,'' he added with a sly smirk.

The boy snorted thinking about his aunt's reaction to the news. ''You've got it.''

''And speaking of Ms. Weasley, how are things going between you two?'' Severus asked casually.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the older wizard. ''Good, why asking?'' he asked warily.

''I was simply curious,'' Severus explained. What else should he say? 'That's what parents ask their children'?

''Did you know Skeeter is an animagus?'' the boy asked out of nowhere. ''She can turn into a beetle. That's how she gathers her information.''

That was new, Severus had to admit, though it made sense. ''Then I will make sure not to let any beetles in.''

---

The unexpected acquisition of Hildegard forced Harry to do some shopping. Luckily, the Grimmauld Place had an owlery and Harry had some owl snacks stashed for Piggy, but it wasn't enough to keep an owl at home.

Harry got lost in his thoughts while stroking the bird's feathers. Hildegard didn't protest – it appeared that she finally accepted Harry as her owner after few hours spent together.

He absolutely did not anticipate for Sn-Severus to get him a present. Certainly not as magnificent as this owl. Hildegard felt like an apology for Hedwig, in a way. Well, she certainly was similar to Hedwig. Harry didn't know who had been responsible for his first owl's death. He doubted it had been Severus. On the other hand, Severus had been there and had even accidentally cut off George's ear.

It's been over two years since the so-called battle of seven Potters, but to Harry it felt like it had happened in another lifetime. It was so easy to forget the former spy had taken part in any of this. The Slytherin didn't belong to Death Eaters – they were a bunch of cruel people and Severus... wasn't like that. Harry could not explain it, but having learnt the truth behind Severus' involvement in the war, he was convinced Severus was a good person who had made some terrible choices. He knew many people would disagree with him, but Harry's conviction was not caused by the discovery regarding his lineage. He had held that belief even before learning Severus was his father...

Harry suddenly burst in laughter, thinking how absurd all of it was. He recalled having thought that by 'that awful boy' aunt Petunia had meant his dad and that the Half-Prince' book had belonged to his dad. He snorted realising he had been both right and wrong about those things, having been misled about his dad's identity.

Hildegard looked at her new owner as if he had lost his mind.

''It's alright,'' Harry said petting her. ''I just recalled something funny.'' The owl looked at him as if she wanted to ask what had been so funny. ''Hey, how you'd you feel about a job? Would you like to meet my friends?''

The owl tilted her head and hooted in response. Having taken it for an affirmation, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.

''I'm glad you finally bought yourself an owl, mate. I don't like the idea of Piggy flying to Snape,'' Ron said.

Harry bit his lip. Telling his friends about his discovery concerning Severus had seemed much easier the previous day, when he day written to his friends. Now when it came to putting theory into practice, it did not appear so easy. He glaced at Ginny and the look in her eyes told him she knew why he had invited them.

He took a crisp from a bowl and munched on it, trying to delay the moment he shared his secret with his friends. Other teenagers followed the suit, filling the living room with the sound of crunching.

''Well, truth be told, I got Hildegard from, uh,'' Harry hesitated, not knowing how to call his biological father. Snape? Severus? Both seemed wrong for different reasons. ''Severus,'' he finally made his choice.

''Oh, that's really nice of him,'' Ginny smiled with the smile of a person who knew a secret.

''Really? I thought you bought her yourself. She's so similar to Hedwig,'' Hermione noted, reaching for another crisp.

''Yeah, well-'' Harry sighed, but Ron interrupted him.

''Waitwaitwait! Two things,'' Ron said firmly. ''First of all, he is 'Severus' now?!''

''Uh, yeah, I was going to explain that in a minute...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck. ''Let's just say we found out we have a lot in common.''

''Secondly, why would he buy you an owl? Is it a trap?'' Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''No, it's not a trap. It's a birthday gift.''

''Since when Snape buys birthday gifts?!''

Hermione ran her hand down her face. ''Ron, calm down. I think we should appreciate the fact that Snape wants to be nice to Harry.''

Harry looked at Ginny, begging for help. He didn't know how to break it to his friends. Ron was rather unhelpful.

Ginny squeezed his hand supportively. ''I think Harry wants to tell us something,'' she said looking him in his eyes and encouraging him to go on.

Harry opened up his mouth to speak, but Ron beat him to it. ''Are you two getting engaged?!''

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, both with incredulous looks on their faces.

''No!'' Harry raised his eyebrows. ''I mean... I hope we will one day...'' he added quickly.

''Don't tell me Ginny is pregnant!'' Ron angrily waved his finger at Harry, his face turning red now. The red-haired girl hid her face in her hands, dying from embarrassment.

Hermione shoved her boyfriend. ''Will you let Harry finish instead of jumping onto conclusions?''

''No, Ginny's not pregnant!'' Harry huffed as his shoulders grew tense.

''Thanks Merlin!'' Ron relaxed his back against the couch.

''Ugh,'' Harry threw his arms in irritation. ''Snape's my father.''

The only thing that interrupted the silence that had fallen was ticking of grandfather clock.

''What?'' Ron asked after few moments, most likely convinced he had misheard.

''That's... wow.'' Even Hermione found herself at the loss of words.

''Yeah,'' Harry said quietly, focusing his sight on the bowl on the table.

''Come on, mate! Today's not April Fools, it's not funny,'' Ron tried to laugh it off, but his chuckle came out rather dry.

''He's not joking,'' said Ginny.

Ron blinked at his sister. ''You... knew?'' he asked in a voice laced with a feeling of betrayal.

''Oh, Harry... That must be hard for you... When did you find out?'' Hermione asked softly.

''A week ago,'' Harry still didn't find the strength to look at his friends.

Ron waved his hand. ''Snape's messing with your brain!''

Harry glanced at the red-head boy. ''He's not. I... found out on my own.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. ''How did you find out? Um, I don't want to come out as insensitive, but it's not something people find out everyday.'' Of course it had to be her who asked that question.

''Did your mum leave a letter or something? Maybe it was forged?'' Ron suggested.

Harry huffed, his shoulders sinking. ''No, I, uh... I took a DNA test, alright? Laugh at me all you want!'' he crossed his arms offended he was forced to speak of his stupidity once again.

Cogs turning in Ron's head were almost audible. ''What deer have to do with it? Is it because of your patronus?''

Harry blinked stupefied at his friend, trying to find a connection between his confession and whatever Ron was talking about, but apparently Ron's train of thought did not stop at Harry's station.

''But that would not make much sense, because your patronus is the same as your dad's – I mean, James, and Snape's patronus is the same as your mum's. I mean, all of them are deer, but of different sexes,'' Ron went on with his musings, ignorant to Harry's confusion. ''Besides, my parents' patronuses are different than mine. Ginny's patronus is different too, so I don't know what it has to do with parents.''

''Oh my God, Ron! D-N-A, not deer-and, uh, I don't even know what's your last word,'' Hermione interrupted him impatiently.

''What's that?'' Ron wrinkled his nose. His sister looked equally interested by this new word.

''It's like, you know, genes. All leaving creatures have it,'' Hermione explained.

''So... it's not about deer?'' Ron asked warily.

''No! I mean, deer have DNA too... Genes determine what kind of creature you are, how you look, maybe even your behaviour to some extend. I would not be surprised if there were genes for magical abilities,'' Hermione added after a moment.

Harry sat there, staring into a wall and thinking how they got from Severus being his dad to magical genes. This conversation made no sense.

''It's a bit sad to think Snape had to go through his duties as a spy knowing he is your dad,'' Ginny said.

Harry at first looked at his girlfriend a bit surprised. Oh, Ginny didn't know Severus hadn't been aware of it at that time, he recalled. ''Actually... he found out after the war,'' Harry grimaced as the he noticed the ordeal appeared more and more absurd each time he talked about it. ''When I visited him to give him back his memories, more precisely.''

''Oh,'' Hermione inhaled loudly as if she had made a groundbreaking discovery.

''Oh?'' Ron looked at his girlfriend questioningly.

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. ''I just was thinking... Harry, hasn't Snape told you he was quitting teaching?''

Harry scratched his head, trying to decide whether Hermione was talking about the first time Severus had said that or the second time. ''Yeah?'' he said, still not sure what the bookworm meant.

''And he fooled Harry,'' Ron huffed and reached for crisps.

''About that...'' Hermione tapped her lip, lost in thoughts. ''What if he didn't fool Harry? Maybe he wanted to get closer to him?''

''Don't be ridiculous,'' Ron scoffed.

''Think about it – the only way of getting closer to Harry available to him was teaching him,'' Hermione suggested.

''Yeah, and assigning him detentions,'' Ron ridiculed.

''Yes! How else would he spend time with Harry?''

The thought had crossed Harry's mind, but he had rejected it as nonsensical. But now when Hermione reasoned out loud, it made more sense than in Harry's head. Hermione's logic did not sound as something that Harry's mind would come up with, subconsciously looking for any sort of trustworthy relative.

''So you're gonna call him 'dad' now?'' Ron refused to leave Harry any space for emotional insight.

''No!'' Harry furrowed his nose, taken aback by the suggestion. The idea seemed so wrong at many levels. ''I've told you, we're on the first name basis.'' That part wasn't fully true either as Harry tried to avoid calling Sna-Severus in any way as much as he could. It just felt too odd.

''Still weird,'' Ron made a face.

''I know,'' Harry sighed tiredly.

''So you're still gonna see him?'' Ron still struggled to accept this new reality. Harry didn't blame him for that – he struggled too.

''Yeah,'' Harry shrugged. 'He's my family,' got stuck in his throat. ''But could you keep it to yourself for now?''

''We are always there for you, Harry,'' Hermione assured.

''Sure, mate! If that git was my father, I would want to keep it secret too,'' Ron whispered the last sentence.

''Ron!'' both girls shouted.

Chapter Text

Severus met Minerva at the Crooked Teapot café in the Diagon Alley. Severus ordered a plain black tea, while the Headmistress of Hogwarts ordered an Earl Grey.

''How do you feel about not being a teacher anymore?'' Minerva asked, not having talked face to face with the former Potions Master since the end of school year.

''Never better,'' Severus curled the edges of his lips into a venomous smirk. ''I haven't had so much time for leisure in years.''

''I am glad to hear you are finally getting some rest,'' the witch answered plainly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that matched Severus' mean smirk.

''I suppose the same thing cannot be said about Horace?'' Severus went further in his pleasantries. There was always some sort of competitiveness to their friendship. ''Forgive me, Minerva, but I find it hard to believe there are only two wizards in the entirety of wizarding Britain who are capable of teaching the subject.''

''As you are well aware, there are not many candidates for the job – be it Potions or some other post. If we paid teachers more, maybe then... but the Ministry has more pushing matters that need funding than Hogwarts,'' Minerva scoffed.

''But you found someone to take your post, I trust?''

''Ah, yes, but I have been looking for a proper candidate for the better part of the year! I don't know how Albus managed to find a new DADA teacher every time,'' the witch said, taking a sip of her tea.

''Not that he was doing a good job at it. He had at least two candidates every year and each time I would lose to a person unfit for the post and the duties it brought,'' Severus noted coldly.

''The post was cursed,'' Minerva rebuked him.

''Yet here I am,'' the man deadpanned.

''What a meeting!'' they heard a familiar jolly voice.

''Speak of the devil,'' Severus sighed in a whisper.

Horace took a chair from a neighbouring table and put it by Minerva and Severus' table without asking for permission to join their conversation.

''Severus, my boy! I was hoping you were not going to quit. Naturally, with my experience in the field there are no worries about your students' performance, but don't you think you should let the old guard enjoy their well-deserved retirement?'' the older Slytherin glanced knowingly at Minerva.

''Oh, call yourself old guard for all you like, Horace, just don't extend your invitation to me,'' the witch replied.

''Don't you think I deserve a retirement as well?'' Severus raised his eyebrow as he reached for his cup of tea.

''But you are a springy youth!'' Horace's laughter bounced through the room. Severus shot him a look full of discouragement. His back strongly objected older Slytherin's belief. Merlin, he hated the fact he was going to turn forty in five months. Horace apparently had not noticed the look Severus had given him, though, as he busied himself with ordering a tea with firewhisky. ''Now tell me, my boy, what are your plans now that you are out of Hogwarts?''

''I have several ideas. I am taking my time to consider their merits and disadvantages,'' Severus replied silkily. Truth be told, he was in no mood to discuss his plans for future that had been bestowed upon him against any better judgement.

Minerva narrowed her eyes at Horace. ''It would seem that Severus values his privacy, unlike some of us.''

''I apologise,'' Horace put his plumb hands to his chest. ''I didn't mean to be nosy. I was simply curious. Well, Severus, you've got your whole life ahead of you.''

Severus raised his eyes at his older colleague, letting out a quiet grumble. A whole life minus the thirty-nine years he had already endured. Oh the woes of being a survivor when you had not expected it. However, like it or not, there was some truth in Horace' misguided curiosity. Severus had spent the majority of summer focused on P-... Harry. Moreover he was still awaiting Draco's response concerning the aid in preparations for young Slytherin's N.E.W.T.s. He scoffed – what has become of him? He had quit teaching at Hogwarts only to offer private lessons to the two of the most annoying brats. As long as the summer break lasted he was not going to truly notice the change in his life, having been used to a two-months break from teaching. He was by no means struggling financially anymore and could afford a longer time off from having a job. But as far as Severus knew himself, if he did not find a new occupation by September he would eventually grow restless. And well, Harry certainly was not an occupation despite the boy being rather difficult to manage.

''What's with that face? Don't tell me it's the midlife crisis,'' Horace observed the former spy with interest. A waitress came with older Slytherin's order and he thanked her with that smile too bright to be sincere.

Minerva chuckled. ''Don't be ridiculous, Horace. Severus is too young for a midlife crisis,'' she wrinkled her nose at the absurdity of such a notion and Severus wondered if the two older wizards were even aware of his age. He even had an adult child, which made him a perfect candidate for a midlife crisis. However, Severus was certain this was not the case – he simply needed to sort his life out in the light of the previous year and especially the last month.

---

Harry picked Ginny up at the Burrow and the couple Apparated in an alley of some London street.

''Where are you taking me?'' the girl asked throwing her arms around her boyfriend's shoulders.

''You'll see,'' he smirked.

''Oh, come on,'' Ginny pressed.

''It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?'' Harry wrapped his arm Ginny's waist as the couple exited the alley.

Harry didn't really want to admit it, but he had spent the better part of the week doing a research of muggle pubs and bars. Well, a research more in theory than in practice – his liver would probably not have survived the visit to all those spots. Inspite of being a half-blood raised in the muggle world Harry was much more knowledgeable about the entertainment provided by the wizarding world. He knew that sometimes aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had gone to cinema and uncle Vernon had gone to pubs with his colleagues or aunt Marge, but they had hardly ever taken him anywhere. If not for the school trips Harry would have never gone to a theatre, for instance.

The teenagers entered an old style pub with dark green display window outside and a lot of dark wooden panelling matching the furniture.

''Oh, Ron's gonna be green with envy,'' Ginny's eyes lit up so beautifully at the sight in front of her. ''But I imagined muggle bars would be more different from ours,'' she noted, looking at the old-fashioned furniture.

''Uh, if you don't like it, we can go to some more modern one...''

''Are you kidding? I love it! I'm curious, though, how different look other bars?'' she asked.

''They've got more glass and metal, I guess?'' Harry shrugged.

After the initial amazement, Ginny started insecurily looking around.

''Oh, to order we need to get in the queue to the bar. Muggle bars don't really do the whole thing of going to your table to get your order,'' he explained. The look on Ginny's face gave him a suspicion she was trying to envision Madam Rosmerta adapting this way of running her business, without much luck.

Then teenagers' attention was drawn to the board behind the bar on which available drinks were displayed.

''What would you recommend?'' Ginny asked.

Harry embarrassedly scratched the back of his neck. He was not really familiarised with muggle drinks either. ''Uh, maybe whisky?'' he suggested, reasoning that muggle whisky couldn't be that different from firewhisky. Maybe less fiery. Ginny wrinkled her nose, clearly not sold on the proposition. ''If you'd like something less strong, I've heard good things about Guinness,'' he said, but frankly in was the only type of beer that rang a bell. All those IPAs and lagers did not tell Harry anything at all. ''It's a beer,'' he added.

''What will be for you?'' the bartender asked once their turn at the bar arrived.

Two teenagers looked at each other as if they were having an inaudible conversation. ''Guinness, please,'' they said at once.

''Alright, black stuff twice,'' the bartender said grabbing a glass and putting it below the tap.

Harry paid for their beers and they found themselves a quiet table in a corner.

''Yeah, I see why he called it 'black stuff'','' Ginny noted observing her beverage. Then she took a sip and made a surprised face.

''You don't like it?'' Harry asked.

''It's not that I don't like it. I just thought it would be, um, more similar to butterbeer. But it's nice to try new things,'' the girl shrugged and went for another sip.

''Cheers!'' Harry bumped his glass against Ginny's. ''And many happy returns!''

''Thank you,'' Ginny slightly blushed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

''I would give you your gift now, but I have to leave something for your birthday party, right?'' Harry smirked.

Ginny waved her hand. ''Give it a rest, I'm already enjoying this one.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Ginny's voice told him she was not looking for the party that much and he found the idea ridiculous. For Harry his birthday had always been his single special day and the parties thrown by the Weasleys increased the feeling tenfold, the only exception having been this year's birthday party spent in the shadow of the revelation concerning his parents. ''Come on, you're gonna enjoy the party.''

''Yeah, probably, but the thing is when you have six brothers and so many cousins and aunts and uncles there are birthday parties all the time,'' Ginny groaned. ''It's tiring.''

''But this one is yours,'' Harry pointed out.

''Yeah, I know, but I much more enjoy spending my time with you without the rest of my family watching,'' Ginny said finishing her pint of beer.

Harry chuckled amused by the sight of Ginny wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ''You're quick,'' he glanced at his own glass still not being empty. ''Another one?''

''Nah, I'll wait for you,'' Ginny smirked smugly. ''Sooo...'' she spoke in a more serious tone. ''We haven't talked about this much, but are things alright between you and, uh,'' she hesitated for the moment.

''Severus? As alright as could be between us, I guess?'' Harry shrugged. ''I mean, he's trying. He gifted me Hildegard, which is more than my aunt and uncle had ever done for me.''

''I'm happy for you. I know Ron is sceptical, but think it could be good for you, however, if I'm wrong... if he ever tries to do something to you, promise to tell me, alright?'' Ginny squeezed his hand.

Harry looked away. He didn't want to talk about it. He needed a moment in his life when he was not thinking about Severus being his biological dad. Thinking too much about it made him feel dizzy at times. ''Sure, but like, maybe let's not talk about me when it's your birthday? Let's talk about you for a change,'' he said cheekily as he took Ginny's hand into his own.

''And what would you like to know?'' she asked with a flirty smile on her face.

''I dunno, you tell me.''

''Well, I've heard Hollyhead Harpies were recruiting, but I don't know...''

''What you don't know? Ginny you should absolutely go for it!''

''I mean, Hermione got that job at the Ministry, you, Neville and Ron are going to become Aurors, Luna is going to pursue her Magizoology studies and I, uh, I don't know what to do with myself,'' Ginny sighed. ''Being a part of a Quidditch team doesn't seem as serious as your future jobs.''

''Bullshit!'' Harry protested. ''If I didn't want to become an Auror, I'd try my luck at Quidditch too.'' Ginny still didn't look that much convinced. ''Listen to me,'' he urged squeezing her hands tighter. ''You are going to be amazing. You were Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. We won the cup thanks to you and your leadership,'' he reasoned.

They left the bar slightly tipsy after few more rounds, but Harry didn't feel like calling it a day, or rather a night yet, and neither did Ginny.

''How about a movie?'' he asked having spotted a cinema down the street.

''Do you think they are still showing them at this time?'' Ginny covered her mouth as she hiccuped.

''Let's find out,'' Harry grinned and pulled Ginny with him.

The girl didn't resist for long and quickly matched his pace. Soon they found themselves in front of the cinema. It turned out the only thing that was still playing was some horror movie. Ginny stepped into darker corner of the main hall of the cinema for a quick time spell.

''We've got half an hour,'' she said.

''That should be enough to buy tickets and some popcorn.''

''And for a short trip to the loo,'' Ginny snorted, seemingly put into good mood by Guinness.

About two hours and some complaining from Ginny about the length of commercials before the movie later, they left the cinema in great spirits. Having found a secluded spot, they Apparated back to the Burrow.

''Thank you,'' Ginny kissed her boyfriend enthusiastically. ''This is the most fun birthday I've had so far!''

''Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it,'' Harry felt the corners of his lips rising. ''I've had a great time too.''

''Are you sure you don't wanna stay for the night? We've got plenty of space,'' Ginny waved her hand, casually pointing at the building.

''Yeah, I know, but it's late and I don't wanna wake anyone up.''

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry. ''I'm probably gonna wake them up anyway, but if that's your choice...''

''I'll call you tomorrow, so you won't get too much time to miss me, alright?'' Harry said impishly.

''Deal,'' Ginny placed a quick kiss to his lips like a seal.

---

''Today you are going to put the Golpalott's laws into practice,'' said Severus once the duo reached the laboratory. ''I am going to present you a bottle of poison and your task is to correctly label the poison and subsequently brew an antidote to it.''

''Errr, no offence, but weren't you supposed to prepare some easier task this time?'' Harry looked sceptically at the man.

''Taking into account the amount of time we have dedicated to the Golpalott's laws, it is perfectly reasonable to expect you are going to have an easy time working on it, is it not?'' Severus expectantly raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

Harry sighed resigned. Severus opened up the taller cabinet, picked a bottle and put it in front of the teenager, who furrowed his eyebrows, picking up the bottle.

Harry was absolutely clueless how to categorise the poison. He didn't even have an idea where to start his inspection. At first he held the bottle in the light, watching poison's colour, but the glass was coloured itself. Then he uncorked the bottle, struggling a bit pulling the cork out, and sniffed the potion. He nearly dropped the bottle when Severus grabbed his wrist.

''Wha-?'' Harry looked startled at the older wizard.

''Yes, an excellent question: what do you think you are doing, Harry?'' Severus asked harshly.

''Uh, trying to name the poison you gave me?'' Harry replied like it was the most obvious answer and Severus quite a git for not having figured it out on his own.

Severus rubbed his forehead. ''Merlin, save me... And what are you going to do next in your quest? Drink it?'' Harry glanced at the bottle in his hand and then at his former teacher. ''I have assumed that seven years of magical education had taught you that inhaling fumes of unknown provenance can be rather hazardous, but apparently I have underestimated you.''

''Hey!'' the boy protested offended. ''Then how else would you like me to find out what kind of poison you gave me?''

''To begin with, I would suggest that you pour a sample on a small plate or a hollow bowl. Then you can more safely test potion's properties. You can also pour a potion into several samples and test how they react with various ingredients,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly, fully in his teacher mode.

''Right. Because I have memorised all the ways all the potions react with all the ingredients,'' Harry spoke drily, but proceeded to do what Severus had suggested.

He grabbed a tiny plate a poured a some of the poison on the plate. The poison was in the colour of ink dark blue. He tilted the plate slightly – the poison slid down somewhat slower than water would. The boy scratched his head, still none the wiser. He would not put it past Severus to give him a poison Harry had never heard of. ''Any hint?'' he asked.

''There will be no hints once you become an Auror, Harry,'' Severus said silkily.

Harry scoffed. Is that what it was? A punishment for choosing Auror career? ''And what about the undetectable poisons?'' Harry challenged the former Potions Master instead.

Severus looked at the boy with his eyes slightly wider. ''I see you are finally getting a grasp on the difficulties that await a potioneer. Luckily the situation is not wholly hopeless when you are faced what you believe to be one of undetectable poisons as there is a finite number of such poisons. The treatment of such a poisoning is the method of trial and error – you would try giving your patient various antidotes and see which one starts giving effects, hoping that you are not going to make the situation for the patient more dire – some of poisons do not react well with some of the antidotes.''

''That sounds less than ideal,'' Harry grimaced. He'd rather go for a bezoar, thanks. He would never want to be a subject to this kind of treatment. ''But doesn't that mean that undetectable poisons are detectable by the cure?''

''It is not detecting per se as many undetectable poisons share cures, thus it would remain uncertain which exactly poison was dealt with. Moreover, a lot of undetectable poisons do not give any symptoms of poisoning until the very late stage or even employ concealing spells, therefore making it impossible to detect them. But you should remember that from your essay on the matter,'' Severus added with a nasty smirk on his face. ''However, be assured the poison you are dealing with is certainly a detectable poison.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. As a recollection rattled somewhere in his brain, fighting hard to be brought to the front of his mind. The recollection of his own sickness. ''Was the curse that had struck me an undetectable curse?''

Severus face turned ashen. ''While it was not an easy curse to detect, it was detectable,'' he replied shortly.

The older wizard's reaction surprised Harry a little. Sure, it must have been an unpleasant memory, but Severus' face so drained of blood was a rare sight. ''I mean I don't even remember anyone telling me what kind of curse it was. But you know it, don't you?''

''Yes,'' Severus hissed sharply. ''Now get back to the poison.''

However, Harry was not ready yet to let go of the subject now that his curiosity was awakened. ''And you're not going to tell me what was the curse?''

''No. I strongly suggest that you focus on the poison,'' Severus repeated harshly.

''You've cured me with a spell, not a potion, right? You got sick afterwards, so it had to be a spell,'' he recalled. ''A difficult one,'' he added. Severus was a powerful wizard, obviously. A mere spell would not have forced him to stay in a bed and cancel classes. Seeing the unamused look on Severus' face, Harry raised his hands in a mock-surrender. ''Alright, alright. Back to potions, I get it.''

The ink-coloured poison stared at the boy from the plate he had poured it in and mocked him. Severus had rather odd understanding of the word 'easier'. Well, maybe this exercise was easier for the former Potions Master, but surely not for Harry. The Gryffindor huffed, utterly at loss. Truth be told, Harry had hoped his meetings with Severus were going to change following their conversation concerning their blood bond, but he could not say they were much different from those prior his discovery. Two wizards still did more Potions than getting to know each other.

''Don't you think I have the right to know what kind of curse struck me?'' Harry asked, turning to face the older wizard. ''Or what you've done?''

''I have saved your life, obviously. You are welcome,'' Severus narrowed his eyes and his voice went cold.

Harry couldn't quite grasp why Severus tried so hard to avoid the subject. Harry had literally seen the man's worst memory and what probably had been his softest and most concealed part of his character. Even if he was still angry at Harry for having got cursed, which was pretty likely despite the fact it had not been Harry's fault, he could just tell Harry, couldn't he? ''Yeah, you cured me, obviously, but wasn't it a bit of a trial and error? Come on, I'm curious!'' Harry nagged.

Severus crossed his arms. ''Yes, it has not escaped my attention. Speaking of which, how was your yesterday's date with Ms. Weasley?''

The Gryffindor's jaw went slack and he was so caught off guard that he did not even have the time to get mad at Severus for having changed the subject. He closed his mouth, trying to catch his scattered thoughts.

''And before you accuse me of something as irrational as having spied on you or used Legilimency – I know that Ms. Weasley happens to celebrate her birthday mid-August,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

Harry felt his face grow hotter. Damn, did Severus have to be so good at connecting dots? Having a father who was an ex-spy wasn't as fun as one could think. ''Um, good, thanks,'' he stuttered embarrassedly.

''Have you spoken with your friends like I had recommended?''

''Yeah, I told Hermione and Ron. They took the news pretty well, I think? Err... care to elaborate on those ingredients that can be used to recognise potions?'' he asked and suddenly the poison on the desk appeared to be not such a dull subject.

Severus clasped his hands behind his back. ''I am glad you asked,'' he said walking towards the shorter cabinet. He opened a drawer and pulled out a rather flat wooden box, which he placed next on the desk. Upon opening the box revealed many slots that held numerous pouches. ''These are standarised reagents, which are often used in recognising various kinds of potions, not only poisons. Naturally you need to know characteristics of a potion to recognise it. For instance, powdered dried bad wing reacts strongly with irritating substances,'' he took out one of pouches. ''Not many know that it is also a good counter-reagent to Aconite Fluid.''

Harry looked at the older wizard dubiously and receiving a nod, he opened the pouch. Then he added a pinch of the powder to the poison on the plate. The powder started popping, its particles glowing red like ash before it gets cold. Harry quickly retreated his hand. ''I suppose it means this poison contains irritating substances?''

Chapter Text

Harry was rudely woken up by his wand on the nightstand buzzing with the alarm clock charm he had cast the previous evening. He rubbed his eyes and looked out of the window – it was still dark outside, reminding the boy that summer was going to end soon. Having dressed, he walked to the kitchen and quickly fixed himself a sandwich and a cup of coffee, hoping he was lucky enough to leave before Kreacher threw tantrum about not having prepared a breakfast for his master. Then he brushed his teeth and headed for the fireplace.

Harry was about to step into the fireplace, when he remembered he was supposed to return Severus the book about the Bloodline potion. He cast an Accio and having caught the book, he grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and left for the Spinner's End.

The look on Severus' face informed him that the older wizard had expected Harry to arrive earlier. Harry glanced at the clock – it was half past 4 A.M.

''Um, I've got your book,'' Harry handed Severus the book.

The former spy took the object. ''Good morning to you as well, Harry,'' he said silkily.

''Wouldn't call it a morning yet,'' Harry mumbled mid-yawn, still not awake enough to catch on the hint to greet the older wizard properly.

Severus briefly inspected book's cover and first few pages, before closing it. ''We will take care of the Bloodline potion once we return. I trust you have read the chapter on the Bloodline potion like I had asked you to?''

''Yeah,'' Harry yawned again. Not only he had woken up at such an ungodly hour on Saturday out of all possible days, but also had gone to sleep later than he had planned, having remembered to read the book only the previous day.

''There is still some coffee left in the coffeemaker. Help yourself to it,'' Severus offered and he did not need to tell Harry twice – one cup of coffee wasn't enough in the boy's current state.

Harry grabbed a cup from a cupboard, too sleepy to even realise how familiar he was growing with the house and poured himself a cup. He took a sip, barely even registering movement of his own body and coughed. His tongue tingled as soon as the liquid made contact with it, making him feel like he was slapped in the face. The coffee must have been brewing the whole night to be that strong! He looked into the cup to see a pitch black liquid inside. He didn't think he had ever had such a caffeinated coffee before.

''Do you drink that everyday?'' Harry shifted his gaze from the cup in his hand to the older wizard. ''It's gonna give you a heart attack one day!'' he scrunched his nose at the taste lingering in his mouth, but went for another sip, not wanting to fall asleep on their trip.

''If anything is going to give me a heart attack, it is you,'' Severus replied in a deadpan.

Harry spluttered and felt his cheeks grow hotter. ''You'd think a Potions Master would brew a better coffee,'' he muttered.

Severus looked at the boy tiredly and then at the coffee stains on the tablecloth. ''If you don't like it, don't drink it, Harry. I am not forcing it down your throat.'' He took out his wand and wordlessly cast a cleansing spell on the tablecloth. ''We don't have the time for your antics. Vervain is best picked before the sunrise.''

Harry looked once more at the cup in his hand and put in into the sink, feeling already much more awake.

In the hall Severus grabbed a big leather bag and threw it over his shoulder. ''I see you did not consider taking your own bag,'' he noted, watching the younger wizard. He reached for a smaller bag hanging on a clothing rack. ''Here,'' he handed Harry the bag. ''This should do.''

Then two wizards left the house and headed for the river's banks, not doing much talking on their way. Harry wondered how Severus managed to be so energetic so early in the morning. As much as he had a chance to get to know Severus, it appeared the man tended to stay up til late night. Maybe that awful coffee was doing miracles.

''Hold onto me,'' Severus ordered.

''Can't you just tell me where are we going?'' Harry asked tiredly.

''Of course I can – we are going to the Dyfnant Forest in Wales, but I highly doubt you know the location,'' Severus pointed out matter-of-factly, not leaving Harry much space to argue.

Reluctantly the Gryffindor grabbed the Slytherin's forearm and the two Apparated. Once on the other side, they stood on a glade still covered by the greyness of the pre-sunrise sky. Harry took put his wand and cast a Lumos, just like Severus.

''As I had mentioned, we are starting with vervain – it mantains the best magical qualities if collected before the sunrise,'' Severus explained and directed his steps towards trees.

They didn't need to look for the plant too long – the first clump of vervain was to be found at the edge of the glade. Severus crouched, shortly examined the plant and started picking leaves.

Harry was rather astonished the man was doing it bare-handed. He crouched next to the other wizard and joined him in picking leaves. As soon as he touched the plant, he felt a tingle in his fingers. Grimacing, he began observing Severus' hands to see if he had some better technique with the plant. To Harry's disappointment, it seemed that Severus was doing exactly what Harry had done, but he showed no sign of discomfort. Maybe he was already desensitised to vervain. Unwillingly, Harry went on with his battle against the plant.

''Were you good at Herbology?'' Harry asked, taking their current activity as an incentive. The only reason he had agreed to join Severus on foraging was the will to get to know him better. Potions once in a week wasn't really enough to achieve that goal. And maybe to spent some time together on an activity that wasn't Potions.

''If you are asking if I had good marks in the subject then yes. However, Herbology was far from my favourite subject and I concerned myself with it only as much as it was helpful in my Potions studies,'' Severus answered not taking his eyes from plants.

''Did you prefer DADA or Potions?'' Harry asked packing leaves into the bag.

''DADA,'' Severus said after a moment.

Harry smirked. ''You needed a moment to decide.''

''Potions are close second, but DADA was my most favourite subject.''

Harry clenched and unclenched his fist, tingling sensation growing more annoying with each picked leaf. ''Was my mum good at Herbology?''

''There was hardly a subject your mother was not good at, Harry,'' Severus' voice was devoid of envy Harry would usually expect from such a statement.

''Like?''

''Care of Magical Creatures, primarily. Having been born to a muggle family, she did not have much experience with magical creatures and she did not know how to act around them. That, and flying on a broom, which again can be attributed to her muggle upbringing. Even though the use of brooms is part of the first-year curriculum, the majority of students are more or less familiar with brooms from their prior experiences at home,'' Severus explained and Harry absent-mindedly nodded, thinking of the picture with him on a tiny broom taken when he had been still a baby.

''You don't like brooms either, do you?'' Harry asked realising he had seen Severus on a broom maybe a handful of times during their eight years long acquaintance.

Severus cleared his throat. ''I was among the students who got their first chance at flying in the first year. My mother's old broom was in no shape for flying and even if it had been, there was no place to practice,'' he said a bit stiffly.

''Is that why you learnt to fly without broom?''

Severus' jaw tensed and he remained silent for a few seconds. ''I was offered a chance of learning the skill by the Dark Lord and I decided to seize the opportunity. Being able to fly without a broom certainly can be valuable in some situations.''

''Could you teach me? That would be awesome,'' Harry noted, imagining himself flying just like a bird. Or a plane. Either way, he expected the feeling to be cooler than flying on a broom or even on a hippogriff's back.

''No,'' Severus answered shortly.

''Why not?'' Harry asked taken aback. Severus Snape, a former Hogwarts teacher of two subjects and a former Headmaster, who had also taught Harry (or at least tried to teach) Occlumency and unprompted had offered extra Potions lessons was denying Harry knowledge when it was Harry who asked for it? Outrageous.

''Because you are such a forgetful person you are ready to forget to hold your wand tightly and drop it in the middle of the flight if distracted by a mere bird,'' Severus said silkily. Harry wanted to argue, but Severus went on. ''Oh, you are absolutely absent-minded, do not even bother denying it – you have just put an impatiens into your bag instead of vervain,'' he pointed out casually.

Harry looked down into his bag. Yes, that would explain why he did not feel tingling anymore. And there he was thinking he was loosing his sense of touch.

Having collected enough vervain to satisfy Severus' needs, they moved onto picking belladonna's leaves and berries. Naturally, the Slytherin couldn't stop himself from reminding Harry that the plant was poisonous.

By the time they returned to Cokeworth the Sun was already shining brightly in the sky.

''Would you prefer to take the Bloodline potion test first or prepare vervain and belladonna to be stashed as ingredients?'' Severus asked back at the Spinner's End.

''Uh, potion,'' Harry answered without much conviction in his voice. He wasn't looking forward to putting leaves away to dry and casting preserving spells on belladonna berries, but the idea of taking the Bloodline potion test, however intriguing it had seemed those over three weeks ago, now had a grip on Harry's guts.

Severus nodded and the two walked upstairs to the laboratory. ''The Bloodline potion fell into obscurity about a century ago,'' he spoke in the voice usually reserved for his lectures. ''However, it was still a rather commonly used potion in the 1880's. Its fall from grace can be tracked back to Faris Spavin's term in the Minister for Magic office. One of his assistants made a public accusation that Minister Spavin was the father of her child. Naturally, Spavin denied the allegation, so the witch requested for the Minister to be subjected to the Bloodline potion test alongside her child. Despite the Minister's protests the Wizengamot ordered that Spavin take the test. Now, you may be surprised why the Minister, the chairman of the Wizengamot, was outvoted. Spavin was in the office for a long time and the paternity case happened when Spavin's popularity reached nearly its lowest point. Is there something on my face, Harry?'' Severus asked harshly out of sudden.

''Um... no, Severus, why?'' Harry felt smile from his face slide away to be replaced by the furrow on his eyebrows, startled by the unexpected interruption in the monologue.

''Nothing,'' Severus shook his head. ''Returning to the story, the test revealed the witch was right in her claims, which which decreased Spavin's notes even further. Desperate to save his reputation, the Minister started a campaign against the potion. His main argument was that the potion should in the fact have been categorised as one of Dark Arts, since it required the use of human blood. The argument was utterly senseless – following that logic a good part of muggle medicine should be considered Dark Art. Unfortunately, it fell on fertile ground, which lead to an anti-Dark Arts hysteria. Many useful spells and potions were banned from student books and moved to the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, and subsequently fell out of use.''

Harry felt the corners of his lips rise again as he listened to the story and he realised he enjoyed listening to Severus' lectures when he wasn't yelling at Harry and giving him bad grades. ''I guess marital fidelity isn't really a virtue in the wizarding world, huh?'' he smirked only to be met with one of Severus' disapproving glances. ''Sorry. Too soon?'' Severus only exhaled slowly through his nose in reply.

In the laboratory the older wizard took a small bottle filled with a translucent liquid out of the cabinet and placed it on the desk. Harry watched his biological father uncork the bottle and cut his finger with his wand. A drop of Severus' blood fell into the bottle, leaving a white trace diffusing in the translucent liquid like milk poured into water. Now it was Harry's turn. His gaze was fixed on the milky white strands in the bottle. So far things were going by the book – from what Harry had learnt when to the potion was added only blood sample of one person or blood samples of identical twins, the potion was milky white. If the potion that Harry had spilt and the paternity test had been right, the potion should turn bright blue once Harry added his own blood to the mixture. And if they had been wrong and James Potter was in the fact Harry's biological father, the potion should turn navy blue or something around dark blue, based on the blood relation between Severus and James.

Harry watched the bottle still uncertain, not even sure why he was hesitating. What were the chances two independent tests had been wrong?

''You do not have to take the test if you do not want to,'' said Severus, noticing Harry's hesitation.

''No, it's alright,'' Harry shook his head. ''It would be a shame to let your work go waste, wouldn't it?'' he shrugged casually, trying to appear less nervous than he was. The worst of all, he didn't know what made him so nervous. He raised his wand to his index finger and inhaled, preparing for sting. He squeezed his finger for a drop to form at its end and watched it fall into the bottle. Soon the white traces were joined by the bright blue ones slowly diffusing into the potion. Severus corked the bottle and shook it to mix its contents, making the entire potion gain evenly distributed bright blue colour.

To Harry's embarrassment he recognised his feelings to be relief, which was soon joined by guilt. Shouldn't he wish for the potion to show him different result? Shouldn't he wish for James Potter to be his biological father? Why he had so quickly accepted Severus into his life when he had a father, even if he was dead? Suddenly he felt that by standing in this place he was doing his legal father disservice. But then, if he had wished for James to be his biological father, wouldn't he have offended Severus' dedication? He didn't know what to make of his feelings.

''Are you alright, Harry?'' Severus asked a bit stiffly, clearly uncomfortable in the role of person offering emotional support, but his face was adorned with sincere concern. And even though Harry now was certain that Severus cared that expression still weired him out.

''Yeah, it's just... I'm not used to getting up so early,'' Harry dismissively waved his hand, lest Severus recognised the conflict building inside him. You can't have a cake and eat it, the saying went. People don't have two dads, do they?

''I see. I hope that you are not going to fall asleep while working on our harvest,'' Severus said smoothly. ''Take a knife and a cutting board from the cabinet,'' he pointed at one of the taller cabinets on the left.

Harry stopped in front of the piece of furniture and eyed uncertainly the many drawers it had. He opened the most right one at the height of his chest to find many bottles standing in neat rows. Then he opened the drawer on the left, but there was only the cutting board, so he had to keep on searching. Next Harry went for the drawer in the lower row to see a wand. It was black and elegant in its modest ornaments, but he had never seen the older wizard use it.

''I didn't know you had two wands,'' Harry noted, closing the drawer.

Severus looked at the drawer with some kind of sorrow in his eyes, but as it was usually the case with the man, the emotion quickly disappeared behind the mask of indifference. Harry wished the Slytherin stopped hiding behind it. ''It is the wand I bought at Ollivanders after my graduation,'' he explained.

Harry narrowed his eyes. ''Then why aren't you using it?''

Severus curled his fingers and rubbed them against each other as if they were longing to touch his current wand. ''All magical objects in our home were my mother's belongings from her time at Hogwarts. My parents could not afford buying me a new wand when I went to Hogwarts, so my mother gave me her own. Think about it – a witch left to live in the muggle world without even a wand to keep her company. As soon as I saved enough money I bought myself a new wand and returned my mother hers.''

''And you're still using her wand,'' Harry guessed.

''Yes. I am much more comfortable with it, despite the fact it was never meant to fit my needs, unlike the one I bought,'' Severus said, busing his hands with vervain leaves.

Slytherin's explanation still didn't make much sense to Harry, however. ''So she used your new wand and you kept hers?''

''No, Harry,'' Severus sighed tiredly as if he had been hoping he wouldn't have to elaborate on the subject. ''I used my new wand until my mother's passing and then, well, she did not need it anymore.''

''Oh,'' Harry said, feeling utterly stupid for making Severus recall memories that were most likely uneasy for him.

For a moment Harry remained silent, continuing his search for the knife and focused on removing remains of stems from vervain leaves, but the mention of Severus' mum plagued Harry's mind. He yearned to learn more of her, of his grandmother. Hadn't the guy who had taken Severus for a priest mentioned she had died fifteen years ago?

''Are your parents buried in Cokeworth?'' Harry asked cautiously, not knowing how to approach this touchy subject.

''Yes, they were buried in the communal cemetery,'' Severus answered briefly.

Harry tapped his finger against the desk, wondering whether he should keep inquiring about Severus' parents. ''Could you take me there?'' he asked at last.

Severus set his knife aside and turned to face the teenager. ''Last time we wandered around Cokeworth we were attacked,'' he reminded.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''I don't think it's the reason we were attacked, but if you don't want to, I can go on my own,'' he pointed out.

''I thought you were tired,'' Severus raised an eyebrow.

''Yeah, well,'' Harry shrugged.

''Alright,'' Severus said at last. ''We shall go once we are finished with pre-preparing ingredients.''

Cokeworth communal cemetery looked just as neglected as the rest of the town. It seemed that as soon people left it, they also forgot about the relatives who stayed in there forever. Which would matched Harry's own experience – he couldn't recall aunt Petunia ever mentioning the name of the town, let alone pay a visit to her own parents. Or maybe the Evanses were buried somewhere else, he couldn't tell.

Two wizards stopped in front of two tombstones, one of them bearing the name 'Tobias Snape' and the date '19 April 1977' and the other the name of 'Eileen Snape' and the date '22 November 1984'. Harry stared at the date under Eileen's name, thinking how unfair it was that he still had had a grandmother at the age of four and he had never got a chance to meet her.

''My father died when I was in my seventh year,'' Severus elaborated, apparently feeling obliged to. ''I cannot say he was a good person and frankly I felt somewhat relieved to receive the news. I had always thought my father would have died in a drunken fight in a bar, but it turned out it was a deadly accident at work and he was completely sober at that time,'' Severus chuckled darkly. ''He worked in the local factory. He would leave home sober, but rarely returned in that state. I thought my mother would at last be free of his influence, but she bore his passing much worse. It was beyond my comprehension that she had truly loved him, despite the way he had treated her. She was difficult to reason with. Upon my graduation I found a job and rented the cheapest flat I could find, I could not bear living with my mother. When I moved to teach at Hogwarts, she was very proud, unaware why I had taken the post. And then she died in my fourth year as a teacher. I would attribute her early passing to her bitterness – she faced too many hardships for a pure-blood.''

Harry felt a lump in his throat forming as he listened to his biological father, overcome with sympathy. He knew Severus did not want his sympathy and most likely did not even consider the story might awake such a feeling in Harry. He looked at the man standing tall and could only see his loneliness. Harry had Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the Weasley clan. Hell, he even had blood relatives, no matter how shitty they were. And Severus? It seemed that Severus had no one, but Harry and the memory of Lily. The Slytherin had never mentioned any of his own relatives besides his parents and maternal grandparents to the extend he needed to explain his connection to the Potters. Even if he had any cousins, it was clear he didn't maintain any contact with them. Harry was Severus' only relative and in that moment it felt like a responsibility, yet not a burden.

Thinking of cousins, Harry wondered how Dudley was doing. He had not seen him since the Dursleys moved out of the Privet Drive. Had they returned? Had Dudley finished school? He had a hard time imagining his cousin enrolling university, but maybe aunt Petunia had convinced him?

Harry's sight landed once more on the tombstones covered in dirt and moss. He took his wand and with a circular movement of his hand got rid of them. ''We shouldn't leave them like that,'' Harry said when he was met with Severus' questioning look, hoping that the other wizard did not take his action for an accusation. ''You know, if you'd like to, you can visit my mum with me,'' he offered.

''I hardly think it would be appropriate,'' Severus tensed.

''Are my mum's parents also buried here?'' Harry asked instead. He also wondered where James' parents were buried, but there was no chance Severus knew. Truthfully, anyone who could know was already dead.

''Yes, I believe so,'' Severus said clasping his hands behind his back. ''However, I don't know where exactly is their burial ground.''

''Wanna search with me?'' Harry asked a bit awkwardly. ''Yeah, I know, not appropriate,'' he added seeing the bewildered expression on Severus' face. ''But I suppose you know the cemetery better than I do.''

Severus swallowed and licked his lips in hesitation before nodding slowly.

Chapter Text

Severus knocked on the door and entered the building located at 79 Diagon Alley. Empty shelves and faded shop display was enough to tell the shop has been out of business for quite some time even if Severus had not read the announcement in the Daily Prophet. If memory served him right, the owner, Drusus Glimeet, had been selling there common day use appliances like enchanted sponges, enchanted toilet brushes and other things that wizards who could not afford a house elf purchased.

''Ah, you must be the person who replied to my announcement,'' an elderly wizard with maybe two-days old facial hair and bushy eyebrows greeted him.

''Indeed,'' Severus confirmed.

''I will be happy to rent this property to an aspiring entrepreneur. The glory days of my business are long gone,'' Glimeet sighed. ''It had been running smoothly before the war, but well, I was forced to close it when they took over the Ministry. And, you know, the market is never idle, so younger ones took my spot. Ah, the troubles it brought me are not even worth speaking of,'' he waved his hand dismissively, but despite having judged the subject unworthy of talking, went on. ''I've tried re-opening my shop, but all it did was leaving me drowning in debt. I should have known I'm too old to start anew.''

''Yes, that seems unfortunate,'' Severus replied cooly.

''Beg your pardon, but you seem familiar,'' Glimeet narrowed his eyes at the other wizard. ''Have we met before?''

''I have shopped here few times, perhaps, but I do not think it being worth of your notice,'' Severus replied.

''I don't believe I caught your name.''

''Yes, forgive me,'' Severus cleared his throat. ''Severus Snape,'' he nodded politely.

Elder's face went pale with rage and he inhaled sharply. ''Snape?! Get out!'' he yelled, pointing at the door. ''Get out this instant! A Death Eater shall never have my shop!''

Severus looked down unamusedly at the older wizard, but made no word of protest. ''I certainly shall leave, then. Thank you for your time, Glimeet,'' he said flatly before leaving the premises.

Truth be told, Severus did not expect his first take at renting a shop to be successful, mostly due to the rent at the Diagon Alley, but he also did not anticipate such a negative reaction. However, it made sense, considering that Death Eaters made Glimeet close his business. Not wanting for his trip to the Diagon Alley to go to waste, he headed for the nearest shop that provided supplies for potioneers. He was running thin on dragon blood, among other things, and it wasn't exactly an ingredient he could collect himself.

On his way to the shop, he spotted Harry sitting in a café with his girlfriend and friends. The boy has clearly having a good time as he was laughing, probably at something that Longbottom had said, but what was the topic of their conversation he couldn't tell. He looked away, not for the first time feeling that he did not match the picture and kept walking – the last thing the boy needed was an interruption in his friendly meeting. But then a movement in the corner of his vision drew his attention. He turned his face once more at the café's window to see Harry waving at him. Severus furrowed his eyebrows, somewhat surprised by Harry's happy attitude to the sight of Severus, and nodded at the boy, acknowledging his presence before going on with his plans for shopping.

---

Five Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw gathered together to celebrate Luna being admitted to the Magizoology studies.The group decided to start with soft drinks – according to Hermione's standards it was too early for alcoholic beverages, inspite of Ron longing for a glass of butterbeer. Hermione and Ginny couldn't congratulate Luna enough on her success.

''It's so nice to see things are going right for all of us at last,'' Neville noted. ''Luna's studies, Hermione's job, and I'm sure Ginny's gonna become the newest member of the Hollyhead Harpies. And you guys gonna become Aurors too.''

''Well, who's gonna be successful if not us?'' Ron smiled smugly.

''Yes, but they still have three weeks till the exam. Now they should be working harder then ever,'' Hermione looked pointedly at her boyfriend.

Ron scrunched his nose. ''Hermione, do you always have to be so negative? You're always nagging before exams and so far we passed all of them with flying colours.''

''Not all of them,'' Harry chuckled, recalling the absolute failure his History O.W.L. had been. Not that it mattered for his education – he had never connected his future with that subject.

Suddenly Ron's demenour changed and he crossed his arms, scoffing. ''Oh, looks who's walking.''

Harry looked at his friend curiously and then turned around to look out of the window to see who provoked Ron's dismay. Harry spotted the person clad in black robes and waved at him. Severus stopped in his tracks as if he had just noticed Harry and nodded at the boy with a tiny little smile on his face most people wouldn't even notice.

''He didn't even look your way, mate,'' Ron muttered to Harry.

''Yes, he did,'' Harry protested.

''Not before you waved at him,'' Ron argued.

And there it was – ever since Harry had told his friends, Ron had been giving Harry strange looks, like he was waiting for Harry's nose go hooked and his hair grow greasy any second now. Harry knew it was shocking revelation, but frankly, it was tiring. The girls had taken the news much better, while Ron apparently hasn't left the station called 'denial'.

Luna tilted her head at Ron. ''And why would Snape look at Harry?''

''Yeah, I mean, he's not the kind of person to dedicate his time to his former students,'' Neville noted. ''Harry's still attending those extra Potions?''

Harry felt like someone had turned up the heating in the room. He knew that he ought to tell Neville and Luna, but Ron's reaction did not encourage Harry to share the information with the rest of his friends. He looked down at the table and started toying with his piece of cake, hoping that the subject was going to die out on its own.

Unfortunately, Hermione felt obliged to provide some sort of explanation. ''Yes, Snape has been helping Harry prepare for the entrance exam this summer.''

''That's nice of him,'' Luna said in her usual absent-like manner of speech.

Neville looked at Harry. ''Extra Potions in Hogwarts were a surprise, but this... wow. He really has to care about your exams!'' Neville bit his lip embarrassedly and added after a second. ''That's a weird thing to say about him. But you know what I mean, you've never been his favourite student.''

''Yeah, that was Draco,'' Ron glanced at Harry.

Harry scratched his head. ''He's not who he seems to be... Look, we all thought him a bad guy and he turned out to be Dumbledore's most loyal man,'' the boy shrugged. ''When you get to know him better, he's not not bad da-, uh, that bad,'' Harry's face instantly turned red when he realised what he had just said and wished the ground would swallow him up.

The ones who knew the reason behind his Freudian slip looked equally embarrassed – Ron coughed, Ginny blushed and Hermione looked everywhere but at Neville and Luna, and Harry, of course.

''How about we move to the Leaky Cauldron? My tea is already cold and I could use a nice glass of butterbeer,'' Ron offered.

''That's a great idea, let's go,'' Hermione agreed too eagerly.

''Uh, it's Luna's day, so let her decide,'' Ginny chimed in.

''Oh, yes, we could go,'' Luna nodded. ''I need to renew my butterbeer cork necklace. The current one has lost its power,'' the girl said, taking out said necklace from under her robe.

Harry was grateful that his slip wasn't talked of for the rest of the meeting.

---

The sound of Severus' quill scratching against the paper was interrupted by the crack of green fire followed by the fits of cough. Maybe he should call a Floo Network chimney sweep to have a look at his fireplace. The Slytherin, who was sitting in his armchair, turned his face at the fireplace.

''Good afternoon, Harry.''

''Hi, Severus. Um, what are you doing?'' the boy stepped closer to get a better look at the book on Severus' laps.

''I am adding my annotations to the Advanced Potion-Making,'' the older wizard said, getting up and setting the book on the end table. ''I know you are rarely punctual, so I decided to entertain myself meanwhile.'' Harry rolled his eyes at the remark on his punctuality. ''Since you have only three weeks left to the exam, I opted for a change. Today I would like to revise DADA with you.''

''DADA? No offence, but I don't really need your help with that,'' Harry did not look too eager to go on with his former teacher's plan.

''Yes, you do,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''I told you we were going to revise DADA once we were done with Potions.''

''Man, you surely miss the Hogwarts already – first sitting with the student's book, now switching from Potions to DADA... by the way, if you'd like a second pair of eyes to take a look at your edit, I can help,'' Harry offered.

Severus rubbed his forehead. ''Don't change the subject. Besides, I don't think you are skilled enough to assess if my edits are correct.''

''Yeah, but as a former student I'm competent enough to see if the book is decent. I've seen your book – you'd make a good student's book author.''

Severus slightly raised an eyebrow at the boy. ''Such a flattery coming from a remarkable student,'' he said flatly. ''Nevertheless, I am not planning on publishing my edits.''

Harry took the book and skimmed through Severus' handwriting. ''Why not?''

''For many reasons. And I highly doubt the Ministry would approve of my alterations. Now, if you are quite finished with the subject, I propose that we move to the backyard,'' Severus waved his hand at the door on the opposite of the one that led to the tiny corridor.

For a moment Harry seemed intrigued by the mention of the backyard, most likely because Severus had never shown him that part of his house. However, initial curiosity quickly faded into an unimpressed look on the boy's face at the sight of patches of grass and dirt.

''You don't come here often, do you?'' Harry looked at the other man. ''You know, you could plant a tree or a bush to make the space more lively or something. Or if you need a bigger room, we could go to the Grimmauld Place.''

Severus forced himself not to grit his teeth at the mention of that loathsome house that was now Harry's home. ''I believe this should do just fine. Remind me how familiar you are with non-verbal spells, Harry.''

''Well enough to achieve an O at DADA N.E.W.T.,'' Harry huffed and made a face a mere year ago would have annoyed Severus for its petulance, but now the man found it strangely endearing, if that was the right way to put it.

Severus raised an eyebrow at such a bold statement. ''Is that so? Let's put it to test, then, shall we?'' he said calmly and before Harry had a chance to react, he abruptly waved his wand, sending a stunning spell the boy's way.

''Protego!'' Harry shouted, taken off guard by the unexpected attack. ''Hey! The fuck? Stupefy?! Are you mad?!'' he yelled absolutely outraged.

''While your reflexes are intact, try to refrain from yelling this time, Harry. And I suggest you watch your tongue,'' Severus said firmly and he flicked his wand once more. Harry reacted quickly, in vain this time as Severus had cast a Muffliato, lest someone in this ghost town heard incantations. The former spy smirked meanly at the teenager's angry expression. ''What Alastor used to say? 'Stay vigilant', do correct me if I am wrong.''

''Very funny,'' Harry barked. ''Are you sure about having quit teaching? This feels like we're speedrunning Hogwarts. What are you going to teach me next? Occlumency?''

''Now that you proposed the idea, I believe I shall,'' Severus replied silkily.

''Ugh, why can't you teach me something fun for a change, like spell creation?'' the boy huffed.

Severus threateningly narrowed his eyes at the brat. ''I am certain Ms. Lovegood has told you about her mother's passing and therefore I don't have to tell you how dangerous spell creation can be,'' he said harshly.

''Said the guy who was making his own spells at fifteen,'' Harry scoffed.

Severus' sympathy for the Weasleys increased with each conversation with Harry. Dealing with hundreds of children that were not your own was one thing, but enduring talking back of your own one was something else. He hardly was managing one, he had no idea how Arthur and Molly coped with seven. ''Yes, I was a reckless and desperate fifteen-year-old, who should have never tried his hand at spell creation. I am not letting you nowhere around such a dangerous activity.''

''Oh, you are missing making students' lives miserable, don't you? I'm sure McGonagall is going to take you with open arms if you tell her you changed your mind,'' Harry said and he waved his wand in anger.

Severus effortlessly flicked away the jelly-legs curse flying his way. ''Nice try. So you can in the fact cast a non-verbal spell.''

Harry took a step forward. ''After everything you still enjoy belittling me, you just miss the audience this time,'' he seethed. ''Find yourself a job and leave me alone!'' he turned around and headed back towards the living room.

Severus stood there, feeling as if he had been struck by a petrifying spell. ''Harry!'' he called at last and rushed after the boy.

''I said leave me alone!'' Harry said swinging the backyard door open forcefully.

Severus had no idea what had made the boy so upset. Harry had given back as much as he had received. Every Severus' remark had been countered with Harry's one as if they had been having a battle of words. Certainly Harry had not been playing fair himself as he tended to mock Severus unprompted. And maybe it would be for the better to let the boy return to the Grimmauld Place and let him calm down on his own, but Severus did not want to part on bad terms. ''Why won't you tell me what is wrong?'' he tried to speak more softly, but was not convinced he had done a good job at it.

''Because I don't want to talk to you,'' Harry said reaching for the Floo Powder.

''Harry,'' Severus swallowed and prepared for what he was to say next. ''I know that I can be a bit... intense at times,'' he admitted, even though it was tough pill to swallow.

Harry chuckled humourlessly. ''Oh yeah? And where did you get the idea?''

''But so can you,'' Severus continued.

''I wonder where did I get that from,'' Harry sneered.

''So why don't we sit down for a moment?''

Harry glared at the older wizard and it seemed that he was going to step into the fireplace, but then he exhaled and put the Floo Powder back into a decorative vase. The boy sat on the couch and remained there silent for a while. Meanwhile Severus sat in his armchair and quietly observed the boy.

''I don't like you,'' Harry said at last and it hurt. It hurt like it hasn't since Lily had refused Severus' apology, but Severus made no protest. He knew he had been hoping for too much, but deep down he couldn't help but feel deceived. He had thought Harry had enjoyed his presence and had been willingly seeking it. ''I don't like you when you are back into your old teacher self,'' Harry clarified, sending Severus' feelings on a roller coaster. The boy glanced at his father and looking away, went on. ''Like, you can be cool, you can be fun, but then you turn back into the greasy git and keep mocking me. I thought we could leave that behind,'' he said the last sentence quieter.

Severus had been through many stressful situations, but now he felt he needed to tread water carefully almost to the same extend he had during Death Eaters meetings. ''I was under the impression that you enjoyed the exchange,'' he said earnestly.

The boy scrunched up his nose in disbelief. ''How?''

''Well,'' Severus exhaled tiredly. ''You always become competitive when I make less than pleasant comments. You seem to enjoy talking back.'' The abashed look on the boy's face told Severus he had not been far from the truth in this regard. ''I didn't think my words could hurt you,'' he licked his lips and hesitated. ''I apologise for that. I will try to do better in the future.''

Harry scratched the back of his hand and looked down at his shoes. ''Yeah, I might have overreacted a bit. Sorry,'' he muttered embarrassedly.

Severus felt he should say something now, but every word that he thought of had a potential of turning against him. Usually in such a moment he would retreat to sarcasm, but now it was not the right time for that. He was not skilled enough to deal with the delicate situation at hand.

The awkward silence was interrupted by Harry's new owl tapping on the window.

Harry turned his head and upon spotting his owl he got up from the couch. ''May I?'' he asked in the middle of opening the window.

''Be my guest.''

''Hildegard! Hi, girl!'' Harry petted the owl who dropped an envelope onto his hand.

''I'm glad your new owl is of use,'' Severus said, feeling the corners of his lips raise a little bit.

''She's great, thanks again, Severus,'' Harry smiled back. ''Hey, I don't have any snacks on me. You'll get some back home, alright?'' he scolded his owl, who requested rather impolitely a payment for her services.

Severus watched the child unpack the letter. ''Do you require solitude?''

''What?'' Harry asked absent-mindedly as his gaze shifted from the letter to his father. ''No, it's fine. It's from Dudley,'' he explained, waving the letter at Severus.

Severus squinted his eyes at the boy. ''Your cousin?''

''Yeah. I've written to him. We haven't talked for two years. I was curious how he was doing,'' Harry shrugged.

While Severus at first welcomed the owl's arrival for disturbing the unearable silence, he was now eyeing the animal as if it was a traitor. ''Your abusive cousin?'' he asked slowly.

''Uh, as far as I know I've got only one cousin,'' Harry tilted his head in confusion. ''Unless you've got some new information to share about our family. Besides, Dudley's not that bad.''

Severus was not exactly sure what Harry meant by 'not that bad'. From the snippets he had gathered from Harry's memories all three Dursleys had been abusive towards Harry and at best neglectful. ''Yes, because having been chased by a dog, constantly mocked and bullied is not that bad,'' he now let sarcasm loose. Why would Harry wish to renew contact with that pig was beyond Severus.

''How do you-'' Harry stopped mid sentence as his face lit up with realisation. ''We were kids. He's changed,'' he argued.

''Trust me, Harry, bullies never change,'' Severus said firmly.

''People do change, Severus! Dudley changed. He really turned out better than he had the right with my aunt and uncle's upbringing,'' Harry waved his hand animatedly. Seeing Severus' unconvinced expression, he went on. ''My... my dad changed!'' he added not without a doubt in his voice, aware how the subject of James Potter was touchy to Severus. ''You've changed!'' he waved his hand at Severus this time.

And there lay the question. Had Severus changed? He wanted to think he had, but he was not certain himself. Harry was capable of forgiveness, while Severus still lived in hatred for people who were long gone, unable to let go. He looked at Harry's stubborn expression and he asked himself the same question he had in regard to Harry's cousin – why would Harry wish to spend his time with Severus, who had belittled him for years? Had the scar of those years been the reason behind Harry's outburst? When he thought about it, he realised somewhat alarmed that he had never apologised to Harry for years of misconduct.

Hildegard's hoot interrupted Severus' train of thought, but he had already made up his mind. ''I owe you an apology, Harry,'' his throat was getting dry as he spoke and clearing it didn't help. ''My treatment of you during your school years had been unfair most of times. I wish I could say it was all an act for the sake of the role I was about to play, but that would have been a lie.'' The look Harry gave him was tearing him. He knew he was hurting the boy, his son, by reopening old wounds, but they wouldn't heal properly if Severus kept refusing to address them. ''Yes, I enjoyed mocking you. It felt like getting back at James. I know it was vile of me and I wish I hadn't relished it. I can't change the past, I can only feel deep shame and regret over my actions. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. You need to know that I don't feel that way about you anymore and whatever I say to you is not meant to hurt you.''

''It's fine, I'm not mad at you. I know you've changed,'' Harry looked away, probably to hide the fact his eyes were getting wet, but he was doing a poor job at it. ''I forgave you when I saw your memories... if not earlier,'' he shrugged and his quick glance at Severus' scar betrayed which 'earlier' he had in mind.

Harry's forgiveness didn't take the boulder off Severus' shoulders. He didn't deserve it. By all means Harry should want nothing to do with Severus anymore. ''If it's still too painful to you, you don't have to be here. I will understand if you choose to leave,'' maybe he was a masochist for still dwelling on the subject, but he needed to let Harry know he wasn't forced to stay with Severus against his will.

''If you want to get rid of me, why don't you say so?'' Harry chuckled drily with a mischievous glint in his eyes in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere in the room and against his better judgement Severus found himself coughing a laughter.

''Believe me, should I wish you gone, I would have no restraint in letting you know directly.''

Chapter Text

September altogether was passing too fast. Harry was faced with the entrance exam within what felt like a blink of an eye and he could not say he had missed taking exams. A day before the exam Severus had told him as both Nymphadora Tonks and Neville Longbottom had been accepted into the Auror Training Programme Harry had a good chance to pass it too. The Gryffindor knew Severus meant well and probably had tried to ease him mind, but ridiculing his friends had not improved Harry's spirits at all.

In the hall of the Auror Department Harry found Ron with his face green from anxiety. Harry's own face was probably equally green. Truth be told, he felt like throwing up. For a longer while Ron remained silent as if he was also worried that opening up his mouth would lead to contents of his stomach landing on the floor.

''How are you, mate?'' Ron asked at once.

''Uh, you know, fine,'' Harry forced himself to shrug like all his muscles weren't tense. ''And you?''

''Yeah, well, dandy,'' Ron wasn't too convincing. ''We're gonna kill it, mate. It's just a formality, right?'' he slapped Harry's back.

''Yeah... and even if we don't pass, George has a job for us,'' Harry chuckled, even though his throat was tight.

''Oi, don't be ridiculous. No way I'm working for George! I bet he's exploiting his employees,'' Ron scoffed.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend. ''George? George always seemed cool,'' he argued.

''Not if you are his brother,'' Ron noted tiredly and after a moment asked again, this time lowering his voice. ''Is your old man gonna kill you if you fail?''

Mischievous smirk crept onto Harry's face. ''Nah, I think he's more likely to kill me if I pass.''

Ron snorted. ''Such a supportive role model.''

''At least he's not making a fuss like your mum,'' Harry eyed Ron knowingly.

''Touché.''

The door opened and a short greying witch addressed the small crowd of examinees that the exam was about to start within next fifteen minutes and they were expected to take their desks.

''Good luck, mate,'' Ron said grimly as he parted his ways with Harry.

''You too,'' said Harry, looking for the desk with a plate with Harry's name on it.

When all the examinees had taken their sits, the witch handed out the task for the Potions part of the exam. To Harry's relief they were expected to brew the Polyjuice Potion. Since they only had four hours to brew the potion, according the instruction the examinee was expected to list the ingredients and describe how to pre-prepare them. Additionally, they had to write down the final step of Polyjuice Potion's recipe, noting how much time it would normally take to finish the potion. Luckily, it appeared that ingredients that had to be pre-prepared for the potion were already available during the exam and examinees had to take them to their desks. However, judging by the concerned looks of some of the examinees, not everyone remembered ingredients.

On his way to the table where ingredients were stashed, Harry glanced at Ron. The redhead's face was still greenish, but he didn't look as panicked as some of the crowd. Hermione must have done her job of revising Potions with Ron dutifully, Harry noted somewhat less stressed for his friend.

After the Potions exam they had an hour of respite before the DADA part.

''How lucky we are they gave us a potion we brewed in our second year,'' Ron noted. ''Though, it felt more like a mix of Potions and Herbology.''

''I guess they wanted to save time doing two exams in one.''

''I hope they are not going to add History to DADA,'' Ron said tiredly.

Harry chuckled. ''Yeah, that would be mean. But well, O'Cathail is an ex-Auror and she did some History during DADA, so you never know...'' he added jokingly.

Ron nudged him, ''Don't say that! If they ask about History we're both cooked,'' he hissed.

It appeared that they were on a stroke of luck, since the DADA part was mainly about casting a corporeal Patronus. For the members of Dumbledore's Army it was a piece of cake and soon a stag and a Jack Russell terrier, among some other silver animals, were jumping around the room. However, many examinees were helplessly waving their wands only to evoke a silver mist.

Another break, this time only half an hour, and the participants were tasked with dyeing their hair green, making Harry deeply envy Tonks' and Teddy's abilities. Harry glanced into a mirror, not completely satisfied with the result he achieved – while his hair was mostly green, there were some yellow spots. Ron glanced at Harry with resignation in his eyes as his hair was more turquoise than green.

The last part of this exhausting marathon was an interview with an Auror. The Auror was the same witch that opened the door at the beginning of the first exam.

''Harry Potter,'' she said, tearing her eyes away from the parchment in her hand, probably containing Harry's personal data, to the boy sitting on the opposite side of her desk. ''Normally in this part of the entrance exam we ask examinees why do they aspire to join our ranks.''

Harry rubbed his sweaty hands against each other, thinking how to reply to the question. He couldn't really answer with 'because I defeated Voldemort', he would appear to full of himself, wouldn't he? Besides, he had made up his mind about his career back when he was picking his N.E.W.T.s. However, he could not deny Voldemort had a great impact on his choice.

''However, I believe we can both agree that in your case such a question would be pointless,'' the witch said putting her quill aside. ''I see you haven't been wasting your time. Only in July you and Snape caught four Death Eaters,'' she said scrutinising Harry. Maybe from another person it would sound like a praise, but not from the Auror sitting in front of the teenager. She certainly didn't look impressed.

''Yes, um, they attacked us, so we were defending ourselves,'' Harry explained. He really hoped that the woman didn't get an impression Harry was running after fugitives in his spare time.

''I see,'' the woman scribbled something down. ''Well, Mr. Potter, I think there is no need for this interview to last any longer. You have already shown your proficiency in battling warlocks. All that is left for me to do is to wish you good luck.''

''Thank you,'' Harry bowed slightly and left the room.

''How it went?'' Ron asked back in the corridor.

''Alright, I guess?'' Harry shrugged. ''And you?'' he asked instead, not wanting to admit he was treated favourably for being 'the saviour of wizardkind'.

''Ah, you know, they asked some questions, but they knew I helped you on your horcrux hunt and in the battle of Hogwarts, so they weren't too strict,'' Ron said embarrassedly, still feeling bad about having left Harry and Hermione alone and hidden with Bill and Fleur instead. ''I think we're safe.''

---

Severus exited Knockturn Alley and headed for the Gringotts Bank. He passed through the great gate of the bank and approached the reception.

''I would like to transfer a thousand and thwo hundred galleons to the account of Mordred Griffiths,'' Severus said. It wasn't a small sum, but the future landlord of Severus' establishment requested not only an advance payment of October rent, but also a security deposit equal to two months worth of rent, similarly to the majority of landlords. Therefore, Severus did not argue.

''Your name?'' a goblin said, barely even glancing at the wizard in front of him, too occupied with tables full of numbers on his parchment.

''Severus Snape.''

''May I ask for your identification?'' the goblin went on monotonously, doing the same conversation over and over again countles times a day.

''Certainly,'' Severus said, handing his wand to the goblin.

The clerk had taken the wand and inspected it before putting it on an ornamental brass plate with a wand-shaped groove. Then he grabbed his quill and started made notes on his tables. ''Thank you, Mr. Snape,'' the goblin said after a moment, returning the wand to its owner. ''The transfer is completed.''

''Moreover, I wish to write my last will and testament,'' Severus requested, earning a more interested look from the goblin. ''Ognuk will take you to the room of wills,'' he said, waving at a younger goblin, who put aside his own parchment filled with tables and hopped on the floor.

''Follow me,'' the younger goblin said simply and led Severus to the room on the right side of the main hall.

Severus watched the goblin climb on a chair behind what to a goblin was a high podium and for average human was a standard-sized desk. Upon the goblin's gesture towards the chair on the other side of the desk, Severus sat down. ''You may begin,'' the goblin said.

''I, Severus Snape, residing at Spinner's End, Cokeworth, being of sound mind and memory, hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament: I devise and bequeath entire of my estate, both real and personal, and wherever situated to Harry James Potter,'' Severus said to an intrigued raise of an eyebrow coming from Ognuk. He supposed he should have done it earlier – due to his blood ties to Harry not being legally recognised, the boy would receive none of Severus' properties upon his passing without a proper last will. Knowing how easily Harry got attached to family heirlooms, he could not do that to him. And while Severus was not putting his life on the line anymore, life had an annoying trait of falling apart when you least expected it, so better safe than sorry. ''With the exception of the Slytherin pendant, which I give to Draco Lucius Malfoy, in the hope that he understands the blood-supremacy does not have to be the way of Slytherin, and my collection of books concerning the subject of Potions, which I leave to the Hogwarts library. As for my burial, I wish to be laid in the Cokeworth communal cemetery. I leave to Harry Potter's decision whether I am buried with my wand or not – he may keep it, should he wish to. Moreover, it is my wish that on my grave the following is engraved: 'Remember me, but forget my fate','' he announced.

''Is that all?'' the goblin asked after a few seconds of silence.

''Yes.''

''I will now read out your last will to you and if you wish to make any amends, please inform me,'' Ognuk cleared his throat before he repeated Severus' words.

''That is correct,'' Severus nodded.

''Very well. That will be one hundred galleons,'' the goblin pulled another piece of parchment, this one with no doubt meant for settlements.

Severus reluctantly handed a pouch to the goblin, who started counting coins stored in there. Once Ognuk decided that he had been given the exact sum of a hundred galleons, he went down the chair and returned with the wizard to the main hall.

---

The results arrived surprisingly quickly, only three days after the exam, that is on the 30^th of September. Tapping against a window if his room startled Harry. He opened it and an owl flew into the room. Hildegard looked at the intruder with the deepmost contempt as if she was jealous she had not been tasked with passing the message to her owner.

Harry nervously took an envelope and opened it with trembling hands, wishing his friends were with him like they had been when their N.E.W.T. results had arrived. He closed his eyes before unfolding the letter and squinting one eye open he dared to look at the report.

His first instinct to the sentence reading that he was accepted into the Auror Training Porgramme was relief. And then the second thought arrived, worrying if his friend was accepted as well. Harry was perfectly aware he had been treated leniently, after all, and he wasn't sure if Ron had been bestowed the same privilege.

He ran down to the fireplace, realising mid-way he had left his letter in his room. Harry decided the letter wasn't that important now that he knew he had been accepted and maintained his direction.

''Mate! Mate, have you got the letter?'' he heard Ron, who apparently was quicker to get to the fireplace.

''Yeah!'' Harry shouted, hoping that his voice reached the redhead. ''Did you pass?'' His subconscious was telling him Ron's voice was too joyful to bring the bad news on his side.

''Yeah! And you, mate?''

''Me too!'' Harry said, finally reaching the fireplace.

''Cool! We're both gonna become Aurors,'' Ron cheered and then frowned, much to Harry's confusion. ''Oi, move! I was here first!''

Then another head emerged from the flames. ''Harry, I am so happy for you!'' Ginny yelled with a wide smile on her face as if she was ignorant to her brother's dismay.

''Thanks!'' Harry smiled too, wondering if he could kiss Ginny through the Floo Network. Then he noticed the disgusted look on Ron's face and decided not try to it. At least for now.

''Why don't you both come over?'' Harry proposed.

''Uh, I gotta let Hermione know. I wanted to know how things went for you, so I know what to tell her. Well, I figured out if I got accepted, so did you, but, you know,'' Ron shrugged embarrassedly. ''Talk to you later, aight?'' Ron's head disappeared from flames, leaving Ginny's head alone in the fireplace.

''Does the invitation still work for only one person?'' she asked cheekily.

''Sure!'' Harry smiled even brighter.

Ginny's head vanished, only to be replaced with the whole Ginny's body standing in front of Harry maybe half a minute later.

''Oh, Harry, I knew you were going to pass!'' Ginny threw her arms around Harry's shoulders, jumping from excitement. ''I'm so proud of you!'' she added between kisses and Harry didn't mind at all his girlfriend was so eager to display affection.

''Thanks,'' Harry repeated awkwardly. ''And I'm going to be so proud of you when I'll hear about the new member of the Hollyhead Harpies.''

Ginny's face started matchng her hair. ''Don't say that, you're gonna bring bad luck congratulating me too early.''

''If they don't take you, they don't deserve you,'' Harry said with full conviction.

''Have you told anyone beside us?'' Ginny asked, desperate to change the subject, letting go of Harry.

''No, I've just received the letter... I should probably tell Severus,'' Harry scratched the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed he has only now thought of the person who had helped him prepare for the exam this summer.

''Yeah, probably. You know, our parents already know Ron's accepted,'' Ginny smirked smugly, like the knowledge concerning Severus' relation to Harry was some kind of inside joke.

Harry cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. ''Give me a sec, I'll call him,'' he said.

The Gryffindor loathed the feeling of his head doing flips while the rest of his body remained in place when he used the Floo Network to give someone a call. Muggle phones caused much less discomfort during communication. Maybe you were confined to the length of cable (and if you had one of these brick-sized mobile phones that Dudley had once received for one of his birthdays or Christmas, that wasn't an issue anymore), but at least you didn't feel nauseous.

''Severus?'' Harry called, looking around the living room that had become familiar to him these past three months. ''Severus? Are you home?'' he tried again, but there was no response. Harry waited maybe a minute longer, but not seeing nor hearing anyone approaching the fireplace, he retreated, making his head flip back to the Grimmauld Place' fireplace. ''He's not home. Or he's too busy with his potions and can't hear me,'' he addressed Ginny. ''I suppose I should also let Hagrid know. Wanna write a letter with me?''

Teenagers went to Harry's room. Its owner dived into the drawer of his desk and after a moment of looking for stationery among the mess he had left in the drawer, he victorously pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink, much to Ginny's amusement.

Dear Hagrid, the letter started. I have great news to share with you, Harry added after few minutes of deliberation.

Ginny clicked her tongue. ''I see you need help with that,'' she said watching Harry's struggle from above his shoulder. ''First of all, maybe start with asking how Hagrid's doing, stuff like that,'' she suggested.

''Yeah, that's probably a good idea,'' Harry chuckled embarrassedly.

''Let me,'' Ginny smirked at her boyfriend as she took the quill from his hand and sat on his lap.

Having sent Hildegard off to Hagrid the teenagers had more time for themselves. Just when they were getting cozy sitting on Harry's bed, Kreacher unceremoniously entered the room.

''Master, Master Snape asks to talk to you,'' the house elf said, bowing slightly.

Harry looked at Ginny, seeking for her approval on her face and he received more than that when she said, still smiling, ''Go, I'll wait here.''

''Harry, you wanted to talk with me,'' Severus noted once Harry reached the fireplace.

''Yes. I was accepted into the Auror Training Programme!'' Harry bragged proudly, overcome with his own happiness, but a moment of silence that passed reminded him that while it would have worked on the majority of people, it didn't work on Severus. He looked at his father's face in the fireplace and wondered if Severus was even happy for him at all. After all, Severus had made it clear many times that he would have preferred if Harry had never chosen this career.

''You did well. You ought to be proud of yourself,'' Severus said at last.

''Um, thanks,'' Harry replied, not sure if what Severus had said was meant to be a compliment at all. ''I owe you a great deal of thanks. You helped me a lot, really!''

Severus only slightly raised an eyebrow. ''Truth be told, I believe you would have been accepted even without my help,'' he said, once more making Harry question the meaning behind his words. Some part of him wanted to think Severus meant to say Harry was talented enough to manage learning on his own, but the part of him that got to know Severus, both the good and the bad, was pretty certain that what he had wanted to say was that as the saviour of wizardkind Harry's grades played no role in the recruitment process. Sheesh, the man knew how to make one feel better, Harry thought feeling his initial excitement evaporate. ''I imagine you are celebrating now with your friends?'' Severus asked matter-of-factly.

''…Yes?'' Harry answered, not wanting to reveal that 'friends' meant in his case 'only with Ginny'. ''Though, we're probably having bigger meeting tomorrow evening. Y'know, Hermione's has her job and Neville has his training,'' Harry reasoned out loud, even though he hasn't discussed the matter with his friends yet.

''Yes, that is understandable,'' Severus nodded. ''I shall not disturb your celebration further, then. However, if you'd like to, I will be glad to have you come to visit me this weekend, if you are going to find the time amongst all the celebrations. Unless you have decided that I have already served my purpose,'' the Slytherin spoke the last sentence with his trademark sarcasm.

Harry snorted. ''Don't worry about that, I'll think of something for you to do,'' he said in a tone that would have earnt him a detention only few months ago. ''Saturday will be OK?''

''Yes, it's optimal,'' Severus confirmed and vanished, not even bothering congratulating Harry. And while the boy knew it wasn't in the former teacher's habit and there was no reason to expect congratulations from him, it still left an unpleasant sting like the vervain Harry had been picking a month ago.

''And how did he take the news?'' Ginny asked upon Harry's return to his room.

''Weeell, I think he took them well,'' Harry shrugged.

---

As he had promised, Harry travelled to Cokeworth on Saturday. Despite the fact that Severus greatly decreased the amount of teaching during their meetings since their argument concerning DADA, going to Severus' house when Harry knew that teaching on the former teacher's side was done felt a bit odd. Maybe it would feel less so if Severus for once paid his visit to the Grimmauld Place, but the older wizard still had strong, and not positive at all, opinion of the place.

''I hope I'm not late this time?'' Harry said tongue-in-cheek, stepping out of the fireplace.

''I'll let it pass this once,'' Severus deadpanned. ''Would you like something to drink?''

''Thanks, I'm good,'' Harry answered running his finger down the vase with Floo Powder.

''When do you begin your training?'' Seevrus asked after a moment of awkward silence.

''We've got the opening ceremony on Monday,'' Harry said, sitting on the couch.

Severus mirrored the younger wizard, sitting in his armchair. So far Harry noticed it was most likely Severus' second favourite spot in the house, the first one being naturally his lab. ''They'd better not fancy another sorting ceremony,'' he said drily.

''Neville or Tonks never mentioned anything like that,'' Harry chuckled.

''Have you already collected the items required for your training?'' And that was Severus – straight to the business, not wasting time on common pleasantries.

It scratched like a wool sweater that literally everyone who had found out of Harry's being admitted into the Auror Training Programme – his friends, the Weasleys, even Andromeda, had congratulated Harry. Everyone except his biological father.

''We haven't received the shopping list yet.''

''Splendid,'' Severus sneered. ''So that is how the elite of wizarding Britain is trained. No wonder Nymphadora Tonks was accepted.''

Harry rolled his eyes. ''You couldn't help yourself, could you?'' he asked, but Severus didn't look sorry at all.

Instead, the former spy got up and having announced he was going to return in a moment, he entered the hidden staircase behind a bookshelf, leaving no explanation to Harry.

''Take your time!'' Harry shouted annoyed. He had already learnt of Severus' various pecularities, but to invite him over and then leave him alone in the room simply rude.

Soon the Slytherin returned with a bottle of wine in his hands. He left it on the end table and wordlessly Accio'ed two flutes.

Harry watched the bottle of red wine, when a thought appeared in his mind. ''Ah, so the room upstairs that I'm not supposed to enter is a wine storeroom. Smart,'' Harry smirked meanly.

''Were you still a student, I would have taken points from Gryffindor for discovering my secret,'' Severus noted only half-jokingly as he poured wine into the flutes. Then he passed one to Harry. ''I believe this is... adequate occassion for a glass of wine,'' he said somewhat stiffly.

Harry accepted the flute with thanks. So no congrats, but yes to a glass of wine? Alright, his father was a strange man. Harry took a sip and cringed at the taste. It should come as no surprise that Severus was apparently a fan of dry wine, but Harry's taste buds weren't too thrilled with Severus' choice of wine.

''Is the wine not to your liking?'' Severus asked, twirling his beverage in his glass.

''Uh, it's not that bad, I'm not really used to wine,'' Harry admitted. As for alcohol, his msot common choice was butterbeer. While firewhisky at first try had been rather unpleasant, he had learnt to appreciate it. And wine... wine always seemed posh, something that Slughorn offered to his students when he tried to 'collect' them. Something that didn't appear during friendly meetings, but rather official parties, like weddings. Then a thought, a memory scratched at Harry's mind, begging for attention. The memory of his first year at Hogwarts and Severus' riddle. ''Do you have nettle wine?''

''I do. Would you prefer it?''

''I could give it a try,'' Harry suggested, intrigued how that wine tasted.

Severus rose from his seat once more and walked to his storeroom again, apparently not trusting his magic in the matters of trasportation of his beverages. Having returned, he Accio'ed another flute and pured Harry nettle wine. ''Hopefully this one will be more to your tastes.''

Harry sipped and feeling sweet flavour flood his tongue, nodded enthusiastically.

Severus shook his head in a rare moment of amusement. ''Who would have thought the saviour of the wizardkind preferred a homemade wine over elf-made wine.''

''You made it?'' Harry looked at the other wizard and then at the glass in his hand. ''Who would have thought a Potions Master can brew potions and wine, but fails at brewing coffee? The wine in your riddle was also yours?''

''Which riddle?'' Severus furrowed his eyebrows.

''Y'know, the Philosopher Stone riddle,'' Harry reminded.

''Ah, that one. Yes, as well as the potions and poisons,'' Severus said matter-of-factly.

''I should've guessed it,'' Harry concluded and took another sip. He really was enjoying the taste. ''So what about our meetings? With the training Wednesdays are out of question. Aaand other working days too,'' he added after a moment of consideration.

''This leaves us Saturdays and Sundays,'' Severus pointed out in a tone that made it clear Severus deemed it enough time not to worry about this matter. ''I don't expect you to make appointments – you may arrive as you please. However, I would recommend avoiding Sunday mornings unless you fancy meeting Draco.''

''Draco? And what does he want from you?'' Harry frowned.

''I am going to help him with his Potions and DADA N.E.W.T.s,'' Severus said as if he wanted to ask if Harry was jealous. The teenager was not going to give him this pleasure. ''This is no doubt Narcissa's influence – she may hate me, but she knows my tutoring is going to give Draco a better chance at achieving higher grades.''

''You truly are desperate to keep teaching, you know that, right?'' Harry said instead. ''Are you opening now a school offering N.E.W.T. courses?''

Severus tsked. ''Yes, among offering courses on spying,'' he spoke silkily. ''No, I am opening a potions shop,'' he added more seriously.

''No!'' Harry tilted his head back a little. ''Really?'' he asked seeing that Severus had really meant it. ''When?''

''Within next week, if things go according to the plan,'' Severus explained between sips of wine.

''And you haven't told me anything?! Come on!'' Harry scoffed indignantly and then looked at Severus once more, still having a hard time believing it. ''I'm sorry, Severus, but I can't see you running a business.''

The Slytherin curiously raised an eyebrow. ''And why that may be, Harry?''

''Uh,'' Harry wrinkled his nose, thinking how to say it in the least offensive way. ''You're not exactly a people person and running a business requires talking to people.''

''I'll have you know, Harry, that following my graduation I worked for some time as a cashier,'' Severus said with clear satisfaction at having an upper hand in the conversation.

''Really?''

''Yes. I rented a flat in the attic of the tenement where the shop was situated, which also belonged to the shop's owner. He was an awful, money-grabbing wizard. Not only my salary was pitiful, he also deducted his rent from it,'' Severus sneered at the memory. ''I was desperate for money, so I quit only after three years.''

''Hopefully you'll treat your employees better,'' Harry chuckled. ''Where will be your shop?'' he asked, impatient to see the establishment.

''43 Knockturn Alley.''

''Knockturn Alley?'' Harry repeated with a feeling of disappointment. ''You know its reputation!''

''Yes. It should suit me perfectly,'' Severus grimaced slightly.

Harry looked at the man – at his father, holding a glass of wine in his hand and that was exactly what he saw – his father. Someone who had sacrificed and suffered a lot for the cause. Not a Death Eater, not a murderer. ''You are a good person,'' he said earnestly, albeit feeling already a little bit hazy from the wine.

''Debatable,'' Severus said sourly and took another sip of his drink.

''Sure, you've made some poor decisions, but at the core you are good,'' Harry said, resolute in his defense of Severus, even if it was defense against Severus' opinion of himself.

The Slytherin scoffed in response, but said nothing more on the matter.

''I don't think I've ever told you,'' Harry opted for a change of subject. ''We kinda won thanks to Narcissa.'' Having Severus' attention, Harry went on. ''After I had gone to meet Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, she told him that I was dead.''

Judging by the surprise briefly passing through Severus' face, it was news to the former spy. ''For better or worse, Narcissa had always been opportunistic in her support for the Dark Lord, unlike her lunatic sister.''

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, talking about old times (it turned out Severus was still angry at Hermione for having set him on fire, which was fair – Harry wouldn't be happy either if someone did that to him if he was trying to stop a dangerous event) and sipping on wine – for it did not end on one glass, or one bottle, for that matter. Harry knew he was drunk to greater extent than usual when drinking alcohol, but he did not mind. He was relaxed on the couch and frankly, it was one of the best times he had spent with Severus. It was dark outside for a substantial amount of time, but that wasn't an issue either – if he wanted to go home, he just needed to step into the fireplace. How convenient that was?!

Severus got up from his armchair and excused Harry for a moment.

---

It is no secret alcohol is a diuretic substance and Severus was forced to take a walk to the bathroom. Having returned to the living room, he was met with the sight of Harry sleeping soundly on the couch. Severus sighed tiredly and for a moment entertained a thought of waking the boy up, but the childlike look of Harry's face prevented him from that. Despite all the hardships, cruelty and injustice Harry had faced, the Gryffindor was still a child at heart, Severus realised, feeling strange lightness in his chest at the thought.

Quietly, Severus walked to the boy and gently took off his glasses, careful not to disturb his sleep, and put them on the end table. Harry was so young, only nineteen, and it felt wrong he had been deemed an adult wizard for two years already. The former Potions Master wordlessly Accio'ed a blanked and wrapped it around the boy's frame. Harry's position didn't look comfortable, but he was young, so most likely he was not going to feel any negative effects of having slept like that.

Yet, when Severus thought about it, he must have been Harry's age when he and Lily had conceived the boy, and it seemed even more wrong. Neither Lily, nor him were children at nineteen, forced to grow up too quickly. And maybe for the first time he was thankful for Harry's stubbornness, that life which had not gone easy on him had not broken his spirit.

Now he watched his son sleeping and felt a warmth unknown to him before and surprised himself with the fact he was truly proud with Harry. Not only proud, he was also glad to be a part of the boy's journey, to take part in his joys.

Severus sneered, catching himself do what he had warned Harry against – thinking how their lives could have turned out, had he known the truth from the very beginning.

And there was another annoying thought, that if Harry and Ginevra hurried up, Severus could find himself become a grandfather soon enough.

The man grimaced. He clearly had drunk too much if he entertained such useless thoughts, he decided. ''Good night, Harry,'' he said before heading to his bedroom.

Chapter Text

Harry felt the rays of sunlight try to break through his eyelids, so he squeezed his eyes tighter and pulled the blanket closer to his skin. Then he realised he couldn't recall wrapping himself in a blanket or falling asleep for that matter. Alarmed, he sat up and despite his vision being rather blurred thanks to the lack of glasses, he noticed he was still in Severus' home, in his living room and on his couch.

''I see you finally decided to get up,'' the host greeted him. ''Your glasses are on the end table.''

''You could've woken me up,'' Harry said, putting on his glasses. Gaining clear vision did not ease the throbbing in his head.

''I did not see such a need,'' Severus answered from the kitchen. ''Would you like a breakfast?''

''Yes, please,'' Harry yawned and rubbed his sleepy eyes as he walked to the kitchen.

Naturally, Severus was already dressed in his black robes. Now that he thought about it, Harry hadn't seen Severus wear anything but his black robes since his graduation and in Hogwarts he had seen Severus in his nightgown maybe a handful of times and all of them due to breaking the school rules. Unlike Harry, the older wizard seemed to be full of energy and unbothered by the amount of alcohol drunk the previous day.

Sitting at the table, Harry rubbed his forehead and was thankful Severus' home was dimly lit. ''Do you have a potion for hangover?'' he asked tiredly when Severus put a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon, and a cup of tea in front of him. ''And before you start preaching, it's you who offered me wine.''

''Yes, but I did not force you to drink it. You could have said 'no', Harry,'' Severus pointed out in his silky voice. ''Besides, I think it might be a valuable lesson about your limits.''

Harry groaned. ''Don't be a git. It's not the first time I'm hungover,'' he rolled his eyes and quickly regretted it as his headache surged with the movement. ''Accio hangover potion,'' he waved his wand. After a moment a bottle flew into the kitchen and Harry caught it mid-air, still having that Seeker intuition.''

''Brat,'' Severus commented from the other side of the table, but his voice lacked the usual malice from the school years.

Having drunk the potion, Harry felt much more enthusiastic about the meal in front of him. ''Um, sorry about falling asleep,'' he said chewing a slice of bread. It was absolutely embarrassing that this was the first time he had slept at his father's place and he had stayed here for the night only because he had been so drunk. ''I didn't plan for a sleepover.''

''Neither did I, but be assured you are always a welcome guest here,'' Severus said rather stiffly. Harry didn't mind, having learnt already that the Slytherin had a hard time saying nice things.

''Unless Draco is coming,'' Harry noted cockily.

''If you are dying to come here when I am teaching Draco, I am not forbidding you from doing so. However, I imagine neither of you would be ecstatic about the meeting and you've made it crystal clear you would rather do without me teaching you,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

Harry hummed in response, overcome with sensation that this was happening too fast. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable with how comfortable he had become with the Spinner's End. It's been only two months since he had found out Severus was his biological father and what he was doing? First falling asleep all cozy on Severus' couch and now chatting by the breakfast, like it wasn't weird. Like they could have had this from the very beginning. Would James be mad at him for having accepted Severus so easily?

Then he looked at the older wizard and knitted his eyebrows, nagged by a question he had not asked previously if his memory served him right. ''Severus?''

''Yes, Harry?'' the former teacher replied in a manner that betrayed he was expecting another tiresome question.

''Why do you speak like that? So posh and...'' Harry waved his hands, looking for a fitting word. Cokeworth didn't exactly scream 'fancy words' and yet here Severus was, using vocabulary that put the Malfoys and all pure-bloods to shame. Not only that, but also Severus used it so casually one would think he was born like that.

''I believe the word you are looking for is 'eloquent','' Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry's ineloquence. ''You may know the proverb: 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. I happened to be a half-blood sorted into the house consisting mostly of pure-blood students. As you know, as a student I had a trouble fitting into the Hogwarts. I didn't want to be a stranger within my own house, I did not need the treatment I received from... the Marauders also from my fellow Slytherins. Therefore, I aimed to learn to speak like them. Luckily, it was not a difficult task as I did not have a strong accent, unlike my father, which can be attributed to the fact I had rarely spoken to him and citizens of Cokeworth in general,'' he explained.

Harry felt a bit awkward about asking in the first place – it seemed that topics relating to Severus' past that weren't connected to old scars were pretty scarce. Choosing not to dwell on the subject further, Harry focused on the tea. Thankfully, Severus was better at making tea than making coffee. The other wizard busied himself with today's issue of the Daily Prophet, unbothered by the silence. Harry watched him read the newspaper and to his surprise caught a sight of several grey hairs among the greasy heap of black hair.

''You are greying,'' Harry said astonished before he stopped himself from speaking aloud. So apparently the greasy git, the dungeon bat and his father, all in one, was now also a greying git. It didn't seem right.

Severus holded the newspaper in half. ''Yes, Harry, I am greying,'' in that tone he might have as well said 'water is wet'. ''In case it has escaped your notice, it is a common occurence among people my age.''

---

Frankly, Harry didn't feel much less nervous about the opening ceremony than he had felt about the exam. Unlike in his first year at Hogwarts, there was no feast to making him forget about anxiety. Nineteen-year-old Harry was definitely less excited about the ceremony than eleven-year-old Harry had been about his very first welcoming feast and sorting ceremony. He looked at his friend – at least Ron seemed more relaxed.

Beside two Gryffindors there were two girls, or rather young women, standing next to them in front of a large, heavily decorated door. The girls looked distantly familiar, but the wizarding world was a small community. Harry must have seen them somewhere in Hogwarts' corridors, but he was ready to bet they were few years older than him.

''Hi, I'm Maria,'' the dark-blonde girl shook hands with Harry and Ron. ''I know, such a muggle name,'' she added slightly embarrassed.

''We've got muggle names too,'' Ron shrugged. ''I'm Ron and this is Harry.''

''Oh, so you are Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley? I've heard you took the exam, but I didn't know which examinees you were. I'm three years older than you, so you know, I've never cared which one these kids is Harry Potter. I'm Berenice, by the way,'' the brown-haired girl added.

''Um, nice to meet you. Uh, I didn't think there will be any people who graduated few years ago,'' Harry admitted.

''Well, it was my third attemt at the entrance exam!'' said Berenice.

Ron chuckled awkwardly. ''Fake it 'til you make it, right?''

The door opened and a man most likely in his forties looked at the small gathering. ''Ah, I see everyone is here. Do come in.''

The future trainees entered the auditorium. Harry looked at the portraits of famous Aurors that watched him curiously. So that's where O'Cathail had got her idea for DADA classroom decor. Then his sight landed on Kingsley, who smirked at the sight of familiar faces.

''Welcome,'' Kingsley said at last when the trainees stood in more or less even line in front of him. ''I am honoured to accept the finest of youth in the ranks of Auror Department. I am not going to deceive you – you are going to face very soon three years of tiresome education. Aurors' job is not an easy one. The task of upholding law and order will be placed upon your shoulders. However, what I can promise you is that you will never be bored and your work is going to provide you a plenty of satisfaction,'' he smiled politely as he spoke the last sentence. ''Now, I will let the Head of the Auror Office do his duties.''

Gawain Robards cleared his throat. ''Certainly. Now you are going to take an oath. Repeat after me: I solemnly pledge,'' he made a pause to let new trainees repeat his words. ''To defend law and order,'' another pause. ''To help those in need. To study diligently and increase my knowledge,'' this sentence was spoken by Ron less clearly than by the others. ''And to fulfil my duties to the best of my abilities.'' Robards waited for the trainess to finish. ''Congratulations. You are now officially Auror trainees. You start tomorrow 9 A.M. sharp with the History of The Dark Arts,'' he informed them and with a wave of his wand distributed sheets of parchment. ''Here are your schedule and a list of requirements.''

''Good luck, trainees,'' Kingsley said as he exited the auditorium.

Once the four was left alone, Ron groaned. ''We're starting tomorrow? Man, they could've given us more time. Are we supposed to buy all those things today?!''

''Well, not all of them – all we've got this week is History and we've got Battle Instincts next Thursday. And Field Training next Friday-'' Maria pointed out.

''At least there are no books for Field Training,'' Berenice glanced at her copy of the shopping list.

Having decided not to waste more time they walked out of the room to bump into Neville and Hermione, who were holding boxes of chocolates.

''Guys!'' Harry grinned at the sight of his friends. ''What are you doing here?''

''Since we work in the Ministry, we figured out we could come by to congratulate you,'' Neville explained.

''That's, uh, nice of you,'' said Harry.

''We wanted Ginny to come here too, but they wouldn't let her in. After we had broken into the Ministry too many times, they became more strict about entrance policies,'' Hermione added somewhat uneasy.

Ron narrowed his eyes at the boxes held by Neville and Hermione. ''Wait, are these George's chocolates?''

''Yes, Ginny and I tricked him into giving us a discount,'' Hermione admitted.

Ron huffed. ''And he never gives me one!''

''And you are?'' Hermione eyed the girls standing awkwardly behind the boys and for a moment she looked unusually jealous of Ron.

''I'm Berenice.''

''Maria.''

''They are trainess,'' the cacophony of sounds filled the corridor as all three – Berenice, Maria and Harry, spoke at the same time. Hermione blinked, trying to process all of the sounds.

''Nice to meet you! I'm Neville, a second-year trainee,'' Neville greeted them.

''Cool,'' Maria nodded.

''You guys are lucky you are starting your training only now – we had a really busy period like two weeks ago,'' Neville furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recall the exact date.

''Why?'' Ron asked as the group slowly moved out of the corridor leading to the auditorium to the staircase.

''Macnair escaped,'' Neville sighted tiredly.

''Again?!'' Ron frowned.

Harry felt a bolt of dread slide down his spine. Why Neville hadn't told him earlier?! Macnair knew Severus lived in Cokeworth! What if he tried to kill him again? He needed to warn Severus!

''Oh!'' Hermione exclaimed and covered her mouth. ''But you caught him?''

''Not quite...'' Neville fidgeted with his fingers insecurily, unsettled by the attention he had drawn. ''We found him dead in a muggle neighbourhood. It was pretty weird... I mean, it wasn't a spell, he was stabbed.''

''But what a Death Eater would be doing in a muggle neighbourhood?'' Berenice wondered.

Harry scoffed, a bit relieved the man didn't pose a threat anymore. ''He probably went there to torture some muggles.''

''I guess he walked into a wrong neighbourhood,'' Hermione mused. ''You know, some places can be dangerous in muggle world too.''

Ron shrugged. ''Either way, good riddance.''

''Ron! You can't say that!'' Hermione scolded him.

''Why?'' Ron looked at his girlfriend, his face showing the lack of understanding of Hermione's outrage. ''A good Death Eater is a dead Death Eater.''

Since Hermione and Neville had to go back to their respective jobs, the group parted. Maria and Berenice left for the Diagon Alley to do some shopping, while the boys stayed behind.

''Oh, man, they really should have left the list earlier,'' Ron looked as if he was ready to squish the parchment into a ball and throw it away. ''I don't think we've got any of these books at home.''

''Let's hope they have them at Flourish and Blotts,'' Harry glanced at his own list, but the titles didn't seem like popular books sold in many copies.

''And that they don't cost a fortune,'' Ron muttered.

Harry scratched his head. ''In the worst case maybe Andromeda will lend Tonks' books to one of us?''

Harry walked out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron and waited for Ron to follow him.

''Only three more years and no more of this stupid running after books,'' Ron grimaced.

Luckily at this time of year the bookshop was not as crowded as it was in the summer time.

''Merlin's beard! If it isn't Harry Potter and his friend!'' the manager greeted them enthusiastically.

''Ron Weasley,'' Ron reminded.

''How can I help you?''

''Um, do you have Dark Arts Through The History, Battle Ready and, uh, Seek and Cover?'' Harry asked, reading from the sheet of parchment in his hand.

''Ah, so you are Auror trainees like these two girls that left maybe fifteen minutes ago? My regards! Unfortunately, we don't have Dark Arts Through The History, but we can order it for you,'' the manager offered in a conciliatory manner.

''And how long would it take? We need the book for tomorrow,'' Ron pointed out.

''Oh, I'm sorry, the book isn't in demand, so it would take a week at least. However, should have the other two somewhere here, just give me a moment,'' the seller raised his finger like he was halting two Gryffindors and ran hurriedly around the shop, watching the bookshelves and stacks of books. Finally he Accio'ed the coursebooks for Battle Instincts and Stealth and Tracking. ''These will be 10 galleons each,'' he said putting the books on the counter in front of Ron and Harry. Ron grimaced at the price, but wasn't really in a position to argue.

''And what about Dark Arts? Would you like to order it?''

Harry and Ron looked at each other. ''We'll think about it,'' Harry said at last.

As they left the bookshop, Harry glanced in the direction of Knockturn Alley and an idea struck him.

''Knockturn Alley? I don't think Borgin and Burkes have the book, you know,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows at Harry's suggestion to visit the alley.

Frankly, Harry had not thought about the missing book from their shopping list. ''Maybe they do. They have lots of Dark Arts stuff, don't they?'' he replied, not wanting to tell Ron just yet that he wanted to see Severus' establishment, certain that Ron would refuse to go with him.

So to Borgin and Burkes they went first.

'Well, well, I did not expect such esteemed guest here. Honoured,'' Burke welcomed them with a sly smirk on his face. ''How may I be of assistance?''

''We're looking for Dark Arts Through The History,'' said Ron.

''I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you, we don't sell those,'' Burke said in a voice that made Harry want to check if his pouch was still in its place.

''Thanks. We'll be leaving now,'' Harry announced and turned towards the exit.

''Yeah,'' Ron's voice was higher than his natural range as he was frightened by a spider body put in a jar.

''At your service,'' Burke bowed as they walked out.

''Told you, mate, it would be a waste of time! Oi, where are you going? Diagon Alley is there!'' Ron pointed towards the exit of the alley.

''Severus is opening a shop. I want to take a look,'' Harry admitted at last.

Ron groaned tiredly and rolled his eyes. ''So the dungeon bat is selling potions now?''

''And what else would he be selling?'' Harry asked dismissively.

Ron waved his hand, like he was trying to chase a fly away. ''Forget it, mate. I'm not coming.''

''As you want,'' Harry shrugged and left his friend by Borgin and Burkes.

Having reached 43 Knockturn Alley Harry stopped and looked at the shop under that address. Its windows were dark, suggesting that the light inside was not turned on. He put his face to the window and guarded his eyes from the daylight, hoping to catch a glimpse of the interior of the shop, in vain. There was no shop sign as well. All in all there were nothing that would indicate that anyone was inside or that a shop was about to be opened in short span of few days. He wondered if Severus has even started making preparations as he knocked. Growing impatient from the lack of response, he knocked again, this time more forcefully.

The door opened at last, revealing the unamused owner. However as soon as Severus saw Harry, the scorn gave way to slim sign of curiosity. ''Harry,'' the Slytherin greeted him.

''I was near, so I wanted to see how things are going with your shop,'' Harry answered the unasked question.

''Slowly,'' Severus replied shortly. ''You may take a look if you wish to,'' he invited Harry inside.

While the drawn curtains explained darkness of windows, the light inside wasn't bright, either. Even though the area wasn't that big, it seemed spacious, maybe due to the space being nearly empty, with only few display shelves put in place.

''Are you sure you are going to get this sorted by the end of the week?'' Harry asked unconvinced.

''I'm not certain, either,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''I was assured the items for the laboratory at the backroom should arrive no later than Thursday. Hopefully the vendor will meet the deadline, unlike the seller of the cash register that I should have already received,'' he said flatly, betraying his annoyance. ''I am assuming you already had your opening ceremony?''

''Yeah. It was nothing like Hogwarts' welcoming feasts. I guess Aurors prefer to keep it short,'' Harry admitted a little bit disappointed.

''I imagine. Have you received the list of required material?'' asking the question the former teacher looked like he was still a teacher and took his time scolding a student for not having brought a coursebook. Harry supposed some habits were simply engraved into Severus' behaviour.

''Yup. We've been looking for our coursebooks with Ron, but we can't find the book for the History of The Dark Arts. We've looked in Flourish and Blotts and they can get it for us next week, but we need it for tomorrow!'' Harry huffed. ''We've even tried at Borgin and Burkes, but he doesn't have it either.''

''May I take a look at your list? Maybe I can be of help,'' Severus offered and Harry handed him the parchment. The teenager wondered if the light wasn't too dim for the older wizard to read. ''You are in luck – I possess the book,'' he said matter-of-factly, returning the parchment.

''For real?'' Harry asked, but maybe on the second thought, he shouldn't be surprised at all. Severus loved Dark Arts and had dozens of dozens of books. ''Do you have another copy? Y'know, Ron could use one as well.''

Severus furrowed his eyebrows. ''Why would I own two copies of the same book?''

''Well, I dunno,'' Harry waved his arms helplessly, unable to think of an explanation that would have worked for Severus.

---

And so two Gryffindors started their adventure called the Auror Training Programme – Harry equipped with Severus' copy of Dark Arts Through The History and Ron with Tonks' copy borrowed from Andromeda. Since both lessors said the book might remain in the boy's possession until the exam, they saved 10 galleons each.

On Tuesday each trainee was met by their own tutor. Proudfoot was assigned Harry's tutor and Ron was supposed to hone his skills under the watchful eye of Francine O'Doherty.

First two weeks weren't much different from what they were used to at Hogwarts – lots of lectures, some of them lengthy and boring, a paper on the History of Dark Arts and a paper on the most common traps and techniques of properly reacting to an ambush.

Things were getting more engaging by the end of the second week – for Battle Insticts trainees were taken for a series of reflex tests, where they had to put to practice the knowledge they had gained working on their written assignment.

Then they had Field Training. The first class was taken in a safe environment of Auror training room. However, as soon as the third week of training arrived, new trainees joined their tutors on some of their fieldwork. Therefore, Harry was asked to keep Proudfoot company as he investigated a case of some minor offender.

Harry followed Proudfoot to his office and was asked to bring a chair and sit next to his tutor.

Proudfoot took a folder named 'Julien E. Fontaine' from a stack of files piling in a cabinet. ''He is accused of numerous petty crimes, such as magically enhancing muggle artefacts and pranking muggles. Normally Aurors wouldn't handle such an insignificant offender, but this one will serve as a suitable first case for you, Potter. Read the files and then describe him to me,'' he said, handing the teenager the folder.

Harry skimmed through the short biography of Julien and pictures of prank scenes and charmed objects. He could hardly contain his laughter at a moving picture of a computer keyboard that always pressed down wrong keys, ending in documents with entire pages consisting only of slashes or colons.

''Alright, now tell me what you've learnt about this man,'' Proudfoot asked, when Harry stopped reading the files.

''Uh, well, he's twenty-eight, a Ravenclaw and lives in Manchester. He has a girlfriend and they don't have any children yet. He used to work at Zonko's Joke Shop until it was closed. He works currently at Bernie Balls Fireworks. Aaand he loves pranks.''

''Very well,'' Proudfoot crossed his arms and crossed his legs at the same time. ''But can you tell me when he finishes his job?''

Harry scratched his head. Truth be told, he didn't pay attention to this detail. ''Um, 7 P.M.?'' he quessed, trying to recall when the fireworks shop closed.

''While Bernie Balls Fireworks closes at 7 P.M., you should also take into consideration the time it takes for employees to tidy up the place. I expect him to be back home by half past seven if he doesn't have any other plans for the evening,'' Proudfoot corrected his trainee. ''We will pay him a visit tonight, let's say... quarter to eight.''

''Um, alright,'' Harry nodded, but he wasn't joyful about the way he was going to spend his own evening. It turned out Neville wasn't lying about the non-normative working hours and days among the Aurors. ''But can't we go to the shop?''

''Oh, no, we wouldn't want to make a scene, especially when it comes to such a trivial offences.''

Before they left to ask Julien Fontaine some questions, Proudfoot showed Harry several pictures of the street and the house the offender lived in, so that Harry could Apparate there.

''While it is a common knowledge a wizard or a witch may only Apparate to places known to them, there are some misconceptions concerning what is a known place. Many think that known place is only a place where a wizard or a witch had been themselves. Had it been the truth, it would have made our job much more difficult. In reality, a wizard or witch may also Apparate to a place if they know its name and location, but it is certainly harder. However, this can be mitigated by watching pictures of the place in order to visualise it when Apparating,'' Proudfoot explained and Harry wasn't sure why as Harry already knew that.

They Apparated in front of an innocuously looking muggle house. It seemed that Julien Fontaine was one of many wizards living in muggle neighbourhoods, keeping his neighbours oblivious to the existence of the wizarding world. The light in the windows was a good sign.

Proudfoot rang a bell. ''Mr. Fontaine, we are here to talk.''

After a moment a disinterested man opened the door. He looked like he was about to ask what was it, until he spotted a rather characteristical scar on Harry's forehead. ''You are Harry Potter, I guess. I didn't expect such a famous guest. And who are you?'' he looked at Proudfoot.

''Bernhard Proudfoot, Auror.''

''An Auror?'' Fontaine raised an eyebrow, already suspecting troubles. ''I haven't done anything wrong.''

''We'll see about that. May we come in?'' Proudfoot asked.

''Frankly, I would prefer not,'' Fontained answered, already closing the door, but Proudfoot stopped him from it, putting his hand on the door.

''I insist,'' Proudfoot said firmly.

Instead, Julien Fontaine pushed the door even more forcefully, breaking Proudfoot's resistance.

The Auror grabbed the handle and tried to open the door without much luck. Harry decided it was his moment to step in as he cast an Alohomora. They walked inside and the first thing that Harry noticed was the amount of muggle objects, putting Arthur Weasley to shame. However, the owner of the house wasn't in sight.

''Mr. Fontaine, I wanted to talk about your hobby,'' Proudfoot said louder and he carefully looked around as he went deeper into the house.

Silence. Fontaine most likely had hidden in some secret room or used some sort of masking clothing.

''You are aware that charming muggle items is forbidden,'' the Auror called, noting a shoehorn that jumped eagerly at Harry's shoes, like some kind of a dog.

Harry kicked the shoehorn to keep it away from his shoes, but it came back. Not thinking much, Harry kicked it again and again and again, but it always returned, each time even more pressing in its curiosity for the shoes.

''Ugh, Petrificus Totalus!'' Harry cast the spell, making the shoehorn clatter against the floor.

The Gryffindor hurried his steps to catch up with his tutor, who had already entered the living room. As soon as he set his foot on a rug, it slipped from his feet and he found himself falling to the ground. A sharp pain pierced his head as its back made a rapid contact with the floor. Harry raised his body to sit up, his head spinning.

Having heard a thud, Proudfoot returned from the living room and looked at the boy sitting on the floor. ''Potter, are you alright?'' he asked approaching Harry.

''Yeah, I guess,'' Harry said uncertainly and he touched the hurting spot and hissed. Then he looked at his fingertips and groaned seeing blood on them. Simply wonderful. What a way to spend my first mission, he thought.

''Don't get up. Let me see,'' Proudfoot ordered and examined Harry's wound. Then he cast a healing spell. ''We are going to St. Mungo's, they need to take a look at you,'' he decided, helping Harry get up.

''Oh, you are leaving so fast? Drop by next time!'' Julien Fontaine appeared seemingly out of nowhere and waved his goodbye with a mocking smirk on his face as they left.

At St. Mungo's healers examined Harry's head more carefully, using a set of diagnostic spells and asked annoyingly a lot of questions, such as if Harry was dizzy, neaseous, sleepy and so on. Their final verdict was that Harry was fine to leave hospital, but should be exempted from classes for the next two days, rest a lot and check in again if he feels any sort of dizziness within next week.

Harry returned to the Grimmauld Place after 10 P.M. in the state of total defeat. He was tired and while the dizziness had stopped, his head still hurt a bit. Granted, he was going to become a laughing stock among the trainees and Aurors – Harry Potter bested by a stupid rug. A wonderful start of his Auror career.

''Master seems tired. Would Master like to have a supper?'' Kreacher asked.

''Yes, please, Kreacher,'' Harry mumbled, his face in the pillow.

He closed his eyes, hoping for a moment of rest and not caring that he would eventually have to get up to eat the supper.

When Kreacher returned, Harry wasn't aware how much time has passed. ''Master,'' Kreacher called as he entered Harry's bedroom. Harry groaned in reply. ''Master Snape wants to talk to you.''

Harry finally lifted himself from the bed and looked sceptically at the house elf. What Severus would want from him at this time? It was unlike the former teacher to give Harry a call unprompted.

''Severus?'' Harry asked groggily once he reached the fireplace.

''Is everything alright, Harry?'' Severus carefully studied Harry's features.

''Yeah,'' Harry waved his hand dismissively. ''It's just been, uh, a tiring day.''

''And how is your head?'' Severus asked.

''My head?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Why would Severus ask about his head? Did he know something? ''It's fine,'' he decided to stop the subject right there.

''I am glad to hear that, because to my understanding you have wounded your head today,'' Severus replied silkily. ''As I have said before, I do not commend the idea that newly-appointed trainees take part in Auror fieldwork so soon. I hope that you are aware how dangerous head trauma can be,'' he added more firmly.

''How do you-how do you know? Were you spying on me?!'' all fatigue disappeared as soon as anger took its place and embarrassment that the mission had not been dangerous at all only made his fury burn stronger.

''No, I did not,'' Severus answered calmly.

Harry scoffed in reply. ''Yeah, because St. Mungo's gave you my record,'' he mocked. ''I am not a child, don't treat me like that!''

''You are my child, Harry,'' Severus' calmness made Harry's anger even greater.

Harry clenched his fists, desperate to find some counter-argument, but it was hard to argue with that particular statement. Moreover, Harry had never heard Severus acknowledge their ties like that. ''You are a stupid git!'' he said at last, not too pleased it was all he could think of.

''That is a pleonasm, Harry,'' Severus said matter-of-factly, not offended in the slightest.

''A what now?'' Harry frowned.

''A pleonasm – use of at least two words of the same meaning,'' Severus replied smugly. Oh, the greasy git was having fun, wasn't he?

''That's it,'' Harry threw his arms up. ''I'm done talking to you,'' he said and left for the dining room.

Chapter Text

To no surprise, it turned out Draco had forgotten some of the Potions material during the year-long home arrest. However, the young Slytherin still was doing better at Potions than Harry. Having went with Draco through Amortentia, Felix Felicis and the Draught of Living Death, Severus decided it was the right time to introduce Draco to the two Golpalott's laws Horace had failed to mention during his classes and review the one Horace had tackled.

While Draco tended to excel at brewing, his ethusiasm for the theoretical side of Potions was on par with Harry's.

''This is all nonsense! I'm not going to become a healer to work with antidotes,'' Draco sneered as he tried to list ingredient for the antidote to the Befuddlement Draught.

''Maybe you are not going to, nevertheless, the exam commission is going to expect you know how to make antidotes during your Potions N.E.W.T.,'' Severus replied in his silky voice.

''Or you want to turn me into your helper at the shop,'' the boy scoffed. ''Why don't you try that with Potter? I've heard he comes there often.''

Ah, yes, there was that. Naturally, it would not go unnoticed that one of the most frequent visitors of Severus' establishment never bought anything. While Severus had never seen Rita Skeeter around his shop, he could not rule out the possibility of her entering it in her animagus form. That or some of her informants had told her. Either way, Severus' shop had landed in Skeeter's gossip column with a note of Potter being frequently spotted there. The only positive outcome was that Severus has had more customers since that short article.

''I tried, without much luck,'' Severus deadpanned, not feeling safe with his secret around Draco.

''Seriously now, I don't buy this shop thing, Snape. This is not your kind of thing – you and customers?!'' Draco frowned.

''Thank you for your valuable opinion on the matter, Draco. I hope it will ease your mind to hear I am managing it. Now, I suggest you return to the antidote,'' Severus said smoothly.

---

Harry couldn't say that having night duties was fun, especially on Friday evenings. Each day there were two Aurors staying for their late evening and sometimes night duties in case of emergency, which meant staying late once a week most often. Trainees had to join their tutors on their night duties once a month in their first year, twice a month in the second year and on every duty in their third year. Harry envied Ron – even though it was a duty shared by Proudfoot and O'Doherty, Ron was joining her next week. Meanwhile Harry was stuck in the Proudfoot's office, feeling deceived by Kingsley. In his speech during the opening ceremony for the trainees the Minister had promised they would never get bored, yet here was Harry, sitting aimlessly and listening to various stories of his tutor. Proudfoot wasn't a good storyteller and Harry tried really hard to stop himself from yawning every two minutes. He really felt like falling asleep at the desk. Harry loved the thrill of missions, but no one had ever warned him against the boredom of night duties at the office.

''Are the duties always so, uh, calm?'' Harry asked at last, being already fed up with Proudfoot's weird stories.

''Not always, obviously. Otherwise, what would be the point of keeping us here?'' the Auror laughed as he chewed his sandwich. ''However, I would say we had a lot calmer period like five to ten years after the end of the first wizarding war. Then, of course, we had a really busy period at the dawning of the second war. It's a lot better now than it used to be a just a year ago, but, well, we've seen more peaceful times for sure,'' he went for another bite ask when he finished talking.

''Right, thanks,'' Harry muttered, resting his cheek on his hand. It was his very first night duty, but Proudfoot having put it like sitting pointlessly in the office was something to be looked forward didn't really change Harry's opinion on the matter. ''Would it be OK if I went for a quick walk?'' he asked, pointedly not looking at Proudfoot's legs stretched on his desk. His own were getting restless already.

''Sure, go for it, Potter. I don't expect you to glue yourself to the chair until someone calls us to the field.''

Harry got up and left his tutor's office for a short walk around the department.

---

Severus spotted a wizard nervously walking back and forth from the counter to the shelves filled with various potions.

''It will be six galleons,'' the ex-spy said to the witch who was buying a batch of Pepper-Up Potion for her sick family members, his gaze not leaving the anxious wizard for a second.

The witch took out her purse, counted six galleons and handed them to the shop owner and left, thanking Severus. The wizard pacing around the shop noticed that Severus was free from attention of other customers at last and approached him quickly.

''How can I help you?'' Severus asked impatiently. The man in front of him seemed to be a herald of problems to come. Judging from the customer's restlessness, Severus doubted he had come with good intentions.

''Yes, yes, you can,'' the man said hastily. He looked like he was in his thirties, but if he was, it had to be late thirties – otherwise Severus would have remembered having taught him. He most likely wasn't Severus' peer either, because the Slytherin couldn't recall sharing any classes with the man or seeing him in the Quidditch pitch seating. ''I've seen you take special orders for potions not present in the display,'' he whispered conspiratorially.

''Yes,'' Severus glanced briefly at the poster announcing acceptance of such orders.

The man swallowed and licked his lips in hesitation. ''Would you brew me Amortentia?'' he asked finally.

''Out of question,'' Severus replied harshly. What a ludicrous idea that he would brew that particular potion! Frankly, he was not sure why the Ministry thought it was a good idea to teach teenagers how to brew it. Severus would be more than happy to ditch it into oblivion together with other love potions.

''I'll pay any price you name!'' the customer begged.

''I do not sell love potions,'' Severus replied harshly.

The wizard on the other side of the counter narrowed his eyes at the owner of the shop. ''But you said you accept private orders, Snape!'' he hissed.

''I do not brew love potions,'' Severus repeated slowly, lacing his voice with a venomous note. Love potions had never brought a positive outcome, especially if they had worked. The Slytherin didn't understand why those idiots entertained a thought that love was something that could come by force. ''I suggest you try Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. I've heard they sell less potent love potions there,'' he said silkily.

The other wizard went pale with rage and quickly turned around and left without a word of goodbye.

Severus walked to the advertisement of so-called 'special' orders. When he had hung the poster, Severus had thought about the clientele that valued secrecy, such as werewolves in the need of the Wolfsbane Potion. He should have foreseen that those imbeciles were going to take it as an invitation to order love potions.

Severus took out his wand to transfigure the writing on the poster. Excluding love potions was not enough – surely some moron was going to waltz in and request a poison, because they didn't like their in-laws. Thus, Severus added an asterisk reading: 'We do not accept orders for love potions and poisons of any kind'.

The clock struck 7 P.M., informing Severus it was closing time. The former teacher secured the register and cast an alarming spell on the shop, in case someone tried to break in. Then he left the premises and locked the door, securing it with the Anti-Alohomora spell. He walked away from the shop, looking for a good spot for Apparition, when-

---

Harry's legs gave way and he fell to his knees as he felt a terrible grip in his guts. However, that grip didn't hurt him. Severus! He quickly got up, trying to stop his body from shaking and ran back to Proudfoot's office, nearly tripping over his own feet. Severus... Severus was in danger!

''You are back already? Dear Merlin, what happened?'' Proudfoot looked at Harry panting in the doorframe.

''There's-I think-uh, we need to go,'' Harry choked out, gasping loudly. ''There's-'' the boy desperately was looking for the correct word. ''There's emergency!''

''Oh, Francine told you on her way out? Don't worry, she'll have that covered. Let's just hope there won't be another emergency this evening.'' Harry didn't understand why his tutor was so calm when every cell in Harry's body screamed that something had happened to his father.

''Franci-? No! I think there's another emergency,'' Harry steadied himself against the doorframe, feeling like puking.

Proudfoot took his legs from his desk and studied Harry's frame. ''How do you know that? We haven't received any report about another incident that would require Auror's presence. Don't tell me you are a Seer, Potter,'' he added somewhat amusedly.

''I just-I just know, alright? We need to-'' Harry wanted to say they needed to go, but where exactly? Severus could be still in his shop. He could have returned home... maybe someone attacked him in Cokeworth again? Or maybe he went to some forest unknown to Harry to pick some herbs that are best picked in October when it's already dark and something went wrong? Possibilities were countless. How could he know?! ''Listen, is there a way to spot somebody's location?'' he asked hurriedly.

''An interesting question, Potter. Usually when we want to follow someone, we slip them a charmed object that we can trace. Sometimes we cast a tracing spell on the person-''

''Yeah, yeah,'' Harry cut his tutor short. He didn't have the time for lengthy talks. He had to act quickly. ''But is there a spell that, uh, let's you Apparate next to that person? Like I dunno, you think about their name and their face like you would think about a location when Apparating and you appear next to them?''

''I wish there was! Maybe the Department of Mysteries is working on such a spell, but well, the Unspeakables won't tell us.''

Harry dug his fingers into his hair and tugged at it. How was he supposed to find Severus? He could start with the most likely locations, but what if he wasn't there? ''I need... I need to find... he's in danger,'' Harry muttered anxiously.

''Potter, what's wrong? Who do you have to find?'' Proudfoot asked in a serious manner this time.

Harry glanced at the Auror and then looked down at his feet. ''Snape,'' he confessed. He was absolutely, utterly useless. Severus was hurt, of that Harry was certain. But who knew how badly? Maybe Severus was dying or already dead and Harry couldn't do anything about it. He had never been able to.

''Snape? Why do you think you have to find him?'' Proudfoot asked matter-of-factly. Harry had heard him use that voice during interrogations.

''Because something happened to him! Don't ask how I know. I don't know how, alright?! I only know that he's in danger and I can't even find him!'' Harry waved his arms animatedly, frustrated by his own powerlessness. Every cell in his body urged him to act and he couldn't. He could only feel the grip in his stomach and admit his failure, while his biological father might have been dying at this very moment.

''That's unusual,'' Proudfoot noted. ''Sit down, try to calm down. Maybe we can think of something... Let's think... Snape had been cleared of all charges, so there's no tracing spell on him. He recently opened a shop in the Knockturn Alley, but it's already past 7 P.M. He could be still in his shop closing it, but he could have already left...''

With each word Harry was becoming more and more numb to them. The grip on his stomach had loosened and almost entirely disappeared, but Harry couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad sign. It could mean anything – Severus was alright, Severus was dead, and Harry had no means of finding out. Awareness of this simple fact was driving him crazy.

---

-when he felt a strike between his shoulder blades, hot and cold at the same time.

Next thing he knew was that he woke up to the sight of a bright mist surrounding him. Severus slowly sat up, noting the floor which he would have expected to be cold, but it wasn't. It wasn't warm either. So that was it? He had imagined afterlife to look different than that. He was not exactly certain what precisely afterlife should look like, but not this. What was this place? It did not seem to be hell or heaven. Purgatory perhaps?

Then he looked at his own naked body. The lack of the Dark Mark on his left forearm drew his attention and he touched the skin where the Dark should have been, but it was smooth as if he had never borne the vile mark. Thanks for small mercies that he would not have to carry the Mark with him to the what was coming next. He rose to his feet and while he knew it was ridiculous, he did not wish to go in the state of undress. Just as he thought that, robes appeared on the floor.

''How curious,'' Severus said to himself, pickining the robes up.

When he finished putting on the robes, the mist formed itself into the banks of Cokeworth's river. So, that was his afterlife? Cokeworth's river? He thought with a scorn and he took a step towards the river. As his foot touched the grass, his eyes widened with recognition – he remembered, he remembered everything: Lily, their secret meetings and the bitter decision to forget. The decision that had been supposed to keep Lily save, but instead had led to her death. And then among the landscape in front of him he saw the storm of red hair.

''Lily,'' he whispered, falling to his knees. He did not dare to look up and the only thing that informed him of her approaching him was the gentle rustle of grass.

''Come on, Sev, get up. It's unlike you to kneel,'' she said.

''Lily, I am so sorry,'' was all he was able to say. No excuses. No begging for forgiveness. Excuses were just a poor attempt at exculpating oneself and he did not deserve forgiveness for what he had done. Tears were rolling down his cheek, but he did not feel the need to hide them. She was the only one he would ever allow to see him in such a state.

Lily crouched in front of him. ''Oh, Sev,'' she said softly and caressed his cheeks, wiping away his tears. ''I know.'' Then she put her lips to his ear and whispered ''I forgive you.''

Severus finally looked at her, his gaze bewildered. But her eyes, oh, her green eyes were so bright and full of life it only dug deeper hole in his chest. ''You can't... it's unforgiveable,'' he said weakly.

''Now, Sev, don't tell me what I can and can't do,'' Lily rebuked him amusedly. ''Yes, I did hate you when I learnt you relayed the prophecy,'' she admitted seriously. Severus furrowed his eyebrows at this statement. ''Don't give me that look, Sev. We love and hate and forgive on the other side just like we used to back there. And I forgave you once I found out how much you had done.''

''And what I had done, Lily? I had tormented Harry as his teacher and then I gave him my memories, basically telling him to get himself killed. Some father I am,'' Severus sneered.

''And you protected him, even though you didn't remember he is yours,'' Lily pointed out.

Severus pressed his lips into a thin line, his mind torn in two. He did not want to admit what he had done for his actions had been of the most digusting nature. However, Lily should know, because once she learnt it, she would know that he was right. That he did not deserve her forgiveness. ''I did something even more terriffying to Harry,'' he admitted locking his black eyes with her green ones. The eyes that their son inherited from her. ''I performed one of the darkest spells – I put a piece of my soul inside his body,'' his chest felt tight as he made his confession.

Lily curiously tilted her head, her eyes studying him. ''And why did you do that?'' she asked. Just asked, without any malice in her voice, without any judgement or contempt and Severus could not comprehend why she did not seem angry with him at this revelation.

''Our son has an outstanding talent for getting himself in troubles,'' Severus chuckled darkly. ''There hadn't been a single school year that he had not got himself in danger. Last autumn he got himself cursed with an ancient curse that, to my belief, devastates soul. It took us a long time to figure out what curse had befallen him and by the time we did, Harry's condition had already greatly deteriorated. I found out that soul-manipulating spells stopped the curse. I didn't have the time to look for another cure... Harry was on the verge of death, so that was what I did,'' he hung his head in defeat at the last sentence.

''Sev,'' Lily called him and he looked back at her. To his astonishment she still wasn't mad – on the contrary, she seemed amused, like she didn't take him seriously. ''Do you really think I shouldn't forgive you, because you saved our son's life?'' she gave him an incredulous look.

Severus angrily grasped grass below his palms. Was he not communicating clear enough? ''Are you not listening to me, Lily? I performed one of the most repulsive spells known to the wizardkind! On Harry!''

''Yes, you have. But there are few things we wouldn't do to keep Harry safe. So whether you like it or not, you are forgiven,'' the redhead squeezed the ex-spy's hand. ''I already knew about it, Sev, I'd heard your apology,'' she whispered into his ear, her tone showing that she had an upper hand and Severus could only look at her astonished. ''You remembered that Harry is yours when you cast the spell, didn't you? What's why you did it,'' she reasoned.

''Not... remembered,'' Severus considered his words and Lily wrinkled her forehead in confusion. ''But yes, I knew. I had found out by accident, even though the memories had been still lost to me before I ended up here.'' The Slytherin evoked the memories of him drinking the potion that erased his memories and the spilled potion in his storageroom that led to the discovery of the secret. ''What about you? Did you go along with the plan?''

''I drank the potion before going to sleep, as we had agreed. And then I woke up next morning, oblivious to what had transpired between us, and I told James about the pregnancy. He was so happy... I wish you could have taken part in that happiness,'' she added ruefully. ''I love you, Sev,'' she said kissing his cheek and it felt improper – she looked barely older than Harry, nearly half Severus' age. Her perfect face has not been touched by a single wrinkle. He wished she had got the chance to get older, to see Harry grow up. ''But I love James too. Isn't that messed up?'' she added with a sad smile.

''Lily, I-'' he could not force himself to choke up those three darned words that got stuck somewhere inside his hollow chest.

''I know, Sev. You don't have to say it,'' she softly brushed his hair with her fingers.

''What happens now? Is this the final destination?'' Severus asked, finally getting up to his feet.

Lily held his hand. ''No, this is only a stop in the middle. Sev, entertain me for a moment,'' she said as if she remembered something out of sudden. ''Where are we?''

Severus furrowed his eyebrows at such a ridiculous question. He looked around the place, but it was still the same it had been a second ago, if using time measurement was even right thing to do in this place. ''We are in Cokeworth by the river, why? Where do you think we are, Lily?''

''Godric's Hollow. We are in the garden of the house. You see, this place appears differently to every person. It's the place of comfort,'' Lily explained. Of course, her place of comfort did not include him, but James Potter, he thought bitterly. ''Come on!'' she jabbed him playfully. ''Don't be jealous!'' Severus frowned. ''Yes, you are – you have it written all over your face,'' she pointedly raised an eyebrow. ''Now you get to decide whether you want to travel to the other side or return down there.''

''I am not going to become a ghost!'' Severus exclaimed outraged at such an insinuation. He was not going to humiliate himself to pathetic half-existence. He did not even care about the world of living that much, to begin with.

''I know that, silly!'' Lily shook her head. ''What I wanted to say is that you can return back there to your body, Sev.''

''Don't tell me everyone gets to choose,'' he scoffed. It was ridiculous – if people could return to the world of living and keep on living, no one would ever die. If Lily had had the choice, she would not have left Harry behind, and Nymphadora would not have left her son, either. If Fred Weasley had had the choice, he would have most likely preferred to live his life too.

''Of course not everybody,'' Lily rolled her eyes and only now he noticed that she did it similarly to Harry. ''However, Dumbledore said there had been one person who had been given the same offer.''

Hearing dead people being talked about like they were alive was unnusual, but it did not drown out the most important information. ''Harry,'' Severus guessed quickly. Now the question of Dark Lord's defeat despite Harry's survival made sense. His stomach sank at the realisation that Harry had in the fact died and Severus had taken part in that.

Lily nodded in reply.

''And why would this honour befall me as well?'' Severus scoffed, even though he already had his guesses.

Lily smirked. ''You say it as if it was a bad thing. There is no wrong choice, Sev... You can wish a boat into existence and aboard it to the other side. You can also decide you want to go back, spent more time with Harry, for example. Both are equally good,'' she assured him, squeezing his hand tighter.

''If I go, you are not going with me?'' Severus asked a bit surprised.

''No, Sev, you need to take that journey on your own,'' Lily caressed his cheek. ''But I will be awaiting you on the other side. I promise you.''

Severus looked at her and his heart, that was left down there unbeating, was bleeding. He was presented everything he had wanted for the past eighteen years, even if he had not fully realised it – for their separation to end. ''I am not going to hell?'' he asked cautiously.

Lily exhaled tiredly. ''No, Sev, you are not. How could you think that? You are a good person,'' she pressed.

''And we will be together? Forever?'' he asked, because it seemed to good to be true.

''Yes. However, eternity includes also James, Sirius and Remus, so I imagine it makes it less entertaining for you,'' Lily said with a tongue-in-cheek look on her face, the tease she was.

Severus looked at the river and then at her. He could endure the Marauders if it meant staying with Lily. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, a boat appeared on the river bank. He walked to it and began pushing it into the river, while Lily was watching him with her arms crossed and a soft smile on her lips.

---

Proudfoot kept on listing their options, while Harry was spiralling from anxiety. The Auror's monologue was interrupted by a letter flying into the office and landing in front of Harry, bringing the teenager back to reality. He quickly picked it up and spotted his name on the envelope next to the stamp of St. Mungo's. Harry tore the envelope open, uncaring for its state, and frantically skimmed through the letter, which informed him that since he was an emergency contact of Severus Snape, they were obliged to let him know that Severus Snape was placed in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

''It's for you, Potter?'' Proudfoot asked.

Harry disorderly folded the letter and stuffed it inside his pocket. ''I must go. It's from St. Mungo's,'' he explained hastily.

''If you must... My guess is that the letter is related to Snape and I'm not going to bother guessing how you knew,'' Proudfoot exhaled tiredly. ''I should have known the saviour of wizardkind has some unusual abilities. Who knows, maybe they'll come in handy one day?'' he mused, but Harry didn't stay long enough to hear all of it as he rushed to the nearest fireplace.

Having stepped out of the fireplace in the hospital, Harry ran to the reception. ''I'm here to see Severus Snape,'' he gasped, running out of breath.

''Severus Snape? First floor, third door on the left, Xanthippe Sleetye's Ward,'' the witch said harshly as if Harry had disturbed her, but the boy didn't have the time to get mad at the unpleasant witch. '' I don't even know why do we keep this ward. Muggles could do its job as well,'' she said more to herself as Harry was already running upstairs.

He stopped only in front of the door labelled 'Xanthippe Sleetye's Ward: serious cuts and slices'. He pushed the door open and halted in the doorframe, his eyes looking for Severus. It wasn't a difficult task as only one bed of the three available in the ward was taken.

''Dad!'' Severus was here, awake. Harry's legs carried him quickly to the man sitting in the bed. He is alright. Severus is safe, was all Harry could think of in the moment. He threw his arms around Severus' shoulders. He felt the man tense under the hug, so the boy quickly released him. ''What happened?! I thought-I felt-'' Harry struggled to put into words what he had experienced not long ago.

''I was stabbed,'' Severus replied matter-of-factly.

''Stabbed?!'' Harry exclaimed terrified and his eyes quickly scanned his father for any visible wounds.

---

The boat was already in the river. Severus' grasp was firmly set on the rim of the boat and the only thing left to do was to step inside. He raised his right leg with an intend of putting it inside the boat, but he put it down on the ground. He couldn't do it to Harry. Even though their relationship could be described as unusual at best, moving on would mean turning Harry into orphan again. Moreover, there was that bond... ''The spell I cast comes with certain side effects, I believe,'' he said to Lily. ''I think it created a sort of connection between Harry and me – there are moments where I think I can feel that Harry got hurt and it usually turns out to be true. I am afraid it is a two-way connection.''

''Harry knows you are here?'' that information apparently took Lily off guard.

Severus drummed his fingers on the rim of the boat. ''It is more of a... sensation than matter of intellect, if you will. But in short, yes, I assume he feels it. I can't do it to him, Lily,'' he said weakly, letting go of the boat.

''It's alright. I told you, there is no wrong choice,'' Lily touched his chin gently. ''I am not going to get mad at you for choosing to live. We are going to have all the eternity to ourselves at some point. I can bear to wait longer for you. Go to our boy if you feel that's what you should do,'' she brushed a loose strand of his hair and tucked it behind his ear. ''Give him a hug from me,'' she said, making Severus choke a dry chuckle and shake his head. ''One tiny hug for Harry? No? Alright,'' she added jokingly. He knew she was teasing him.

Severus glanced briefly at his now-clothed left forearm. His Dark Mark was not present in this plane of existence, but he was certain he would find it back on his forearm when he returned to his body. And if that was the case with the Mark... ''I am assuming that when I go back there, I will lose my memories once more,'' he reasoned aloud.

''Most likely. The potion is bound to your body,'' Lily confirmed.

Severus inhaled slowly. He did not know why he did that, probably out of habit – he did not need oxygen here. ''Hopefully I will be able to remember this conversation,'' he took Lily's hands in his own to stash the memory of her touch safely in his mind. ''Could you list the ingredients we used to brew the potion?''

Lily's eyes flashed with mischief. ''You are going to brew an antidote, aren't you?'' She looked more than eager to take part in Severus' scheme to reclaim his memories. ''We started with modifying the Forgetfulness Potion. However, we also added asphodel flowers, a piece of cork from the bottle of a potion I bought from you when we first met after graduation, my spit and your spit.''

Severus furrowed his eyebrows, knowing already he was going to face not so an easy task – finding couteragents to such unusual ingredients as piece of cork required often a lot of trial-and-error. Then he looked at her again, wishing to memorise every inch of her face, as if he had not already. ''I think it is time for me to go,'' he said, letting go of her hands, instantly regretting the loss of her soft touch.

''I think it is,'' Lily said like it was difficult for her to part as well. ''Sev!'' she called when he started walking away. He immediately turned around. ''One more thing before you leave.''

''Anything,'' he said breathlessly. There was not a single thing he would not do for her.

''Forgive yourself.''

Severus looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights. ''Lily, I-''

''No taking back, Sev, you promised,'' Lily crossed her arms, smirking smugly and sweet Merlin, how he missed this smirk?

''I can't promise you that, but I'll try,'' he said at last, unable to completely deny her, but also unable to lie to her and promise her something uncertain.

''And take your time down there. We will have all the time in the world,'' she reminded softly.

''I will miss you,'' Severus' shoulders slumped.

''I'll miss you too. Now go before you change your mind again. And stay safe,'' Lily said.

Severus blinked and saw the dark sky above his head. He tried to sit up, but the blinding pain between his shoulder blades dropped him back to the ground. Next thing he noticed was hot pain in the middle of his face and the taste of blood on his tongue. Splendid, he must have broken his nose while falling.

''Merlin's beard! We thought you were dead, Snape!'' a woman exclaimed.

''Would not be the first time,'' Severus noted drily. The woman was Francine O'Doherty. Severus remembered her from Hogwarts – she had been in her fourth year when he had begun teaching. He had heard she had become an Auror, which explained her presence here.

''I need to roll you over to your side. It's going to sting a bit,'' informed him the emergency healer, whom Severus also remembered from Hogwarts. Hermias Dye had started his career of Hogwarts' student during Severus' third year in the post. Severus helped the healer roll him to his side as much as the pain in his back allowed him. ''Oh, wonderful! The healing spell had already worked,'' Hermias Dye announced happily.

''That's strange. We've tried five times without luck,'' Francine O'Doherty reminded.

''Maybe it needed the time to kick in,'' the healer slowly helped Severus back to his back. ''Oh, I almost forgotten!'' he said and cast an Episkey. Severus felt a hit of heat and then of cold to his nose. ''Your nose was broken.''

''Thank you for informing me, Dye. I would not have figured it out otherwise,'' Severus deadpanned.

''You were stabbed, Snape. Do you remember who attacked you?'' the Auror asked.

''Can't you wait with it? We need to take him to St. Mungo's first,'' the healer protested.

''No, I do not remember who stabbed me. I did not even see that person,'' Severus said silkily – a voice known to every single one of his students that bore clear message: I am tired of your annoying questions.

''Does this knife look familiar to you?'' O'Doherty showed him a five to seven-inches long, covered in blood knife.

''Drop it, O'Doherty, we are going to St. Mungo's,'' Dye ordered, this time not accepting any objections.

In St. Mungo's Severus was taken into the serious cuts and slices ward, where he was examined by healers. The verdict was that his life was not in imminent danger anymore, but he needed to stay for observation. O'Doherty was adamant that Severus should be interviewed immediately, but the hospital staff chased her away, arguing that the patient needed to rest in order to fully recover.

After a series of diagnostic spells the former teacher was finally left alone in the room. Maybe few minutes later he heard quick footsteps in the corridor and the door opened abruptly. Severus looked at his pale-faced son standing in the doorframe. Harry's eyes, wide with fright, frantically scanned the room until they met Severus' own.

''Dad!'' Harry shouted as he ran to the man. His legs stopped only when he reached Severus' bed and locked the man in an embrace.

Severus froze, Harry's behaviour rendering him unable to think or to act. He did not even know if it was due to the way Harry had called him or the sudden embrace. Before Severus' brain had the time to register the arms around his body and react accordingly, Harry withdrew, making Severus instantly regret the loss of comforting touch.

''What happened?! I thought-I felt-'' Harry's confession alongside his panic confirmed Severus' guesses concerning their bond.

''I was stabbed,'' the Slytherin interrupted the younger wizard.

''Stabbed?!'' Harry exclaimed in terror and his eyes were jumping all over the older wizard like he was looking for a sign of injury. ''Like with a knife?''

''No, with a spoon,'' Severus replied drily.

Harry blinked, in need of time to process the deadpan. ''Who did that to you?!''

Severus sighed tiredly, forced to answer that question once more. ''I don't know. I was stabbed in my back. However, since I did not catch a glimpse of anyone approaching me, I would not be surprised if that person was using some kind of invisibility clothing,'' he started analysing the incident. He had not seen or heard anyone following him. Frankly, the fact that he had been ambushed so easily was a disgrace to his years spent as a spy. Had he really lost his cunning so quickly? He wondered whether he should tell Harry about the customer he had denied, and decided against it. Firstly, he highly doubted the man was the attacker, secondly, Harry could become rather hot-headed when he got angry and that was the last thing Severus needed on top of everything that had happened.

''And how is your back?'' the boy asked worriedly.

Severus looked at the boy. ''You do not need to worry. It is mostly healed now. They keep me here purely for observation purposes,'' he explained, hoping it was going to ease Harry's concern. It made him uncomfortable – people rarely were worried about him. He was doing fine without their concern for the majority of his life, but apparently after the war people decided Severus was a person to worry about, for some unfathomable reason.

Harry's line of sight landed on Severus' Dark Mark, that following Dark Lord's defeat was not different at all from a scar in its look. The boy quickly looked away, ashamed of having looked in that direction and gasped. ''Neville mentioned recently that Macnair had been stabbed to death!''

''Draco!'' Severus connected the dots.

''Draco stabbed you?!'' Harry shouted half in disbelief and half in outrage.

''No, you dimwit!'' Severus frowned and instantly went pale as he realised what he had just said. ''I'm-I'm sorry, Harry,'' he said hurriedly. ''I shouldn't have said that... I don't think you are stupid,'' he admitted in defeat. His chest felt hollow. He was a weak, pathetic man bound to repeat his greatest mistakes, never learning his lesson. He did it again – he offended one of few people he cared about. What was wrong with him? Why it was easier to hurt people he loved than to tell them how much they meant to him? Why couldn't he just have hugged Harry back when he had come, and fulfilled one of Lily's wishes instead? Maybe Harry and Minerva had been right, maybe he was a coward after all.

''It's OK,'' Harry said in a conciliatory manner. The boy still managed to surprise Severus – he had expected Harry to get mad at him, rightfully so. Like Lily had. Like Harry had when he had challenged Severus' teaching methods in Cokeworth. But Harry did not look angry at all. All that Severus could see on his face was worry.

''No, it is not,'' Severus protested harshly ''You cannot let people treat you like a doormat, Harry.''

''It's been a stressful day. You should get some rest,'' Harry suggested.

Severus scoffed in reply. He was not tired and if he was not forced to stay at hospital, he would have gone home. He reached for his wand lying on the nightstand by his bed.

''What are you doing?'' Harry wrinkled in forehead in confusion.

''I need to warn Draco,'' said Severus.

''No, you need to save your energy and rest,'' Harry argued.

Severus slowly stroked his wand with his slender fingers. ''I believe someone might be assaulting Death Eaters,'' he explained.

''But you are not a Death Eater!''

Severus did not find the energy to argue, so he simply cast a Patronus messenger warning Draco against leaving the Malfoy Manor and telling him if he must leave, to heed caution and informing him that the closest Potions were cancelled. The silver doe sprang through the only window available in the room. The wizard saw the marvel in the boy's eyes at the sight of his Patronus. Harry's soft smile brought warmth to Severus' chest. The Slytherin rested his back against the backrest, feeling his eyelids grow heavier. Now that the level of adrenaline in his system was dropping, he began to feel drowsy and Harry's suggestion did not seem so bad anymore.

The boy must have noticed it, as he said ''Get some sleep.''

And that was what Severus did – he lay down and closed his eyes, and before he even had the time to think, Morpheus came to claim him.

---

Harry watched Severus quickly fall asleep. The Slytherin was breathing so quietly that if not for his chest moving up and down, Harry would have been worried for his life. Funny. Harry had assumed Severus to be a loudly snoring type, probably thanks to Severus' large nose.

Harry Accio'd a chair to sit by his father's side. Having sat on it, he placed his feet on the seat and hugged his knees. His gaze fell once more to the Dark Mark on Severus' forearm, that short sleeves of hospital robes failed to cover, and then to the scar from Severus' intercourse with Nagini, left uncovered due to the lack of collar in the hospital robes. Harry looked away, overtaken by shame. The only two times he had seen Severus so vulnerable had been the Shrieking Shack and the ambush in Cokeworth. Severus had spent a week in coma in the Hospital Wing following the battle of Hogwarts and Harry had never sat by his bed at that time. He really should not have waited nearly three weeks to see the former spy. If Severus had heard his thoughts, he'd have laughed at him and called his remorse pointless, since none of them had been aware of their blood ties at that time. Severus would have been right, probably, but that thought didn't ease Harry's sense of guilt. He looked at the sleeping man again and gently pulled the duvet over Severus' shoulders.

Even though Severus had assured him he had been alright and in the fact he did look fine, Harry had a feeling that he had been downplaying the events of the day. Harry was sure, if it was the right way to put it, that Severus' life had been in grave danger.

When Harry had felt that... feeling, he hadn't got the time to wonder what he had been feeling. He only knew that what he had felt hadn't been pain... or maybe it had, but not his. He didn't know why he had been feeling it, but Proudfoot had been right – it wasn't normal. The recollection made Harry think of him having found out about Arthur Weasley's injury, inspite of those two happenings not being alike at all. Harry hadn't seen Severus getting hurt, but he knew it somehow. Or felt, or... ugh, he didn't know how to call it. But he didn't have any unnatural connections to evil warlocks anymore. He could try consulting Severus about it when he got better, he decided. After all, Severus was a knowledgeable wizard and most likely wasn't going to freak out. Harry could already imagine his friends coming to conclusion that Voldemort had returned if he told them.

A nurse knocked and walked in, informing Harry that visiting hours were over and he had to leave.

''You're still here? You don't need to sit by me all the time, Harry,'' Severus muttered sleepily and slightly surprised by Harry's presence, apparently awakened by the nurse.

''I'll drop by tomorrow. Sleep well, Severus,'' Harry whispered and exited the ward.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up sweaty in the middle of the night. He needed to take a few breaths for his heart to calm down after the nightmare he'd had. The imagery was still fresh in his mind: Severus lying in a coffin placed on a catafalque, his neck torn and flesh bared where Nagini's fangs had struck. His body had been surrounded by white lilies with their petals stained with red blood and his hands folded on his chest holding a lily. In the nightmare Harry had been standing in front of the coffin, joined by his parents, godfather, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks and Fred, like they all had been attending the funeral. They had looked solemn, but not particularly grieved. Dumbledore had been saying something to Harry, something that seemed of great importance and gravity, and his kind-hearted eyes had been focused on the boy. Alas, while Harry remembered having seen the movement of elderly wizard's lips, he couldn't recall the words.

Harry huffed. The previous day had been very stressful and the nurse really shouldn't have added to Harry's worry by telling him as he had been leaving St. Mungo's that the emergency healer had thought Severus to be dead when he had found him. But the weirdest thing was that Harry had not been shocked to hear that – the nurse had merely confirmed what Harry had felt... or known... or something.

Even though his heart stopped racing, Harry's mind had been restless. The same impulse that had informed Harry of Severus' condition somehow currently assured him that Severus was alright and not in danger anymore, yet he wished to see the man, but that was a bad idea. Sure, Harry could take his invisibility cloak and break into St. Mungo's, but Severus really needed his rest.

Instead, Harry got from his bed and started walking around the room, but that didn't put his mind at ease. He opened the wardrobe and changed his pajamas for a pair of jeans and a shirt and Apparated away to Godric's Hollow, where he was greeted by the chill of late-October night. On the second thought, he should have grabbed a coat, but he decided against turning back to the Grimmauld Place. Harry crossed the gate of the cemetery and headed for his parents' grave.

The teenager looked down at the date of death of his parents. The eighteenth anniversary of their passing was nearing, he sighed with his chest burdened and clenched his fists hidden in the pockets of his trousers. He thought of the people he had seen in his nightmare, especially of his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore. Was he cursed and doomed to bring untimely death to those he dared to think of as his protectors and parental figures? He certainly felt so. At least Severus hadn't been the victim of Harry's bad luck, but how much time it would take before he succumbed to it as well? Severus had evaded death three times already. Maybe Severus would have been safer, had Harry not chosen to get close to the man, but now it was too late to withdraw – Harry had seen it in the fear in Severus' eyes as the Slytherin's tongue had slipped that by leaving him, Harry would have hurt him like his mum had had. For a fraction of second Severus looked like a deer caught in the headlights... Harry looked at his parents' names engraved in the stone and against all reason chuckled – the four of them created quite a deer family.

Harry recalled the bittersweet memory of having seen for the first time his own Patronus and having thought it had been his dad who had come for him. The memory was followed by a much newer one – of the warmth and comfort Severus' Patronus had brought him the previous day.

Harry's sight landed on his mum's name. Could it be she had loved both men at the same time? Something inside his heart replied with a yes. And if she had, maybe it wasn't blasphemy...

''Dad,'' Harry spoke at last, addressing James. ''I hope that you know that I love you. I always will. And I wish you were here, and mum too...'', he said with a heavy heart. ''And I really hope you won't get mad at me... I know you two had never seen eye-to-eye, well maybe with an exception of your opinion of mum, but I'd like you to understand,'' Harry inhaled deeply, nervous as if his dad, the official one, could argue back. ''He's important to me. I care about him. I hope it's OK with you and mum. If it's any consolation, I know he cares about me, he just has weird ways of showing it. So, please... I don't wanna choose,'' he shook his head and felt the sting of tears welling up in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, even though anxiety was gripping his guts he felt like he got a burden off his chest.

---

Severus heard a sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. It was around 9 A.M., so it was probably a nurse or a healer coming to chek up on him. Another option was Harry's arrival, but Severus did not take Harry for a person who would get up so early on weekends voluntarily. Especially considering that the boy had stayed with Severus until 10 P.M. the previous day. The awareness he had scared the boy so much really made Severus uneasy.

Soon the door opened and Minerva McGonagall walked in. Severus slightly raised his eyebrows at the sight of the witch, not having expected a visit from her at all.

''How are you, Severus?'' Minerva asked, sitting on a chair by his bed.

''As you can see, I am doing acceptable,'' he replied silkily. ''I expect to be discharged on Tuesday at worst. Now, forgive my impertinence, Minerva, but how did you found out of my stay at St. Mungo's?''

Minerva scoffed. ''It's all over the news! Daily Prophet wrote you had been injured on its front page.''

Severus huffed. ''Just the kind of attention I was hoping for,'' he said drily.

''Don't act so surprised. Media are always looking for sensations. I am relieved to see you in a much better shape than the article would suggest!''

''Media also tend to exaggerate,'' Severus pointed out, already planning to ask a nurse for today's issue of the Daily Prophet, curious what those pathetic excuses for journalists had written about him. Probably that he was on his deathbed.

''Luckily in your case, yes. We all among Hogwarts' staff were worried about you, when we heard the news,'' Minerva said with a pinch of accusation directed at Severus, as if it had been his aim to give them distress.

''Does that mean that I should expect visits from the rest of my colleagues? I am afraid, Minerva, that this room will not contain all of them,'' Severus replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

Minerva glared at him disapprovingly. ''Well, someone should pay you a visit, Severus. It will do you no good sitting here all alone. Unless you have found yourself new friends, which seems to be unlikely as much as I know you. You have never been much of a social butterly.''

''Have you come here to vent about my social skills?'' Severus sceptically raised an eyebrow. It was interesting how Minerva had assumed that he was lying in St. Mungo's forgotten and abandoned by the world, but he was not going to correct her on that, disclosing his closeness with Harry.

''I'm just pointing out that your role in the war and leaving the school might have left you alienated. I know you enjoy solitude, but you really should spend more time around people.''

Severus crossed his arms. ''How do you know how much time I spend fraternising?''

Minerva sneered apparently offended. ''Ever since you left the school you haven't stayed in touch with any of us, except for few meetings with me. All we learn about you comes from newspapers! You cannot estrange us like that after years of working together.''

''I would like to point out none of you is writing to me either,'' Severus said with a sense of gaining an upper hand.

Minerva gasped indignantly at the retort, maybe out of embarrassment of its verity, but quickly composed herself. ''I am sure they would be delighted if they met you in Hogmeade on some of Hogsmeade weekends.''

''I will consider it,'' Severus said at last, seeing that the witch was not going to let go of the matter so easily, once she started it. He could find a moment for Hogsmeade between his bonding time with Harry and teaching Draco.

''I have heard you opened a Potions shop. How is your business going?'' Minerva asked in a conciliatory manner.

''Currently moderately, but I am slowly gaining new customers.''

''I will be sure to come and visit your shop when you get better. I trust your prices to be reasonable,'' Minerva added with a smirk.

''Well, Minerva, I have a rent to pay,'' Severus theatrically spread his hands.

The door opened abruptly, announcing Harry's arrival.

''Sorry, I wanted to come earlier, but- Oh, hello, professor!'' the boy exclaimed, spotting Hogwarts' Headmistress' presence.

''It is nice to see you, Potter,'' Minerva greeted him and glanced at Severus with something akin to triumphant glint in her eyes. There went keeping his closeness with Harry in secret. ''Kingsley informed me you and Weasley were accepted into Auror Training Programme. Congratulations!''

''Yeah, thanks,'' Harry replied awkwardly, as his sight was jumping back and forth from the witch to his father.

''Ah, you came here to see Severus. That is thoughtful of you. Well then, I shall not disturb you,'' she said getting up from the chair. ''I expect you to take good care of yourself, Severus.''

Harry watched her leave the room with a confused look on his face. ''Is McGonagall your emergency contact too?'' he asked once she left.

''No,'' Severus sighed tiredly. ''It would seem that I have made it to the front page of Daily Prophet. I do not know what kind of nonsense they have written about me, but be assured that I am not dying. Actually, I believe you ought to avoid today's issue altogether if you value the peace of your mind,'' he said flatly.

''Uh, OK?'' Harry answered still slightly disoriented and sat on the chair minutes ago occupied by the lioness of Gryffindor. ''But it's nice of her to come and see you. Ummm... is she your friend?'' the boy tilted his head curiously.

''Don't start it, Harry,'' Severus huffed, being done with the subject of friendships having been told off for having too few.

''But she is?'' Harry pressed.

''Yes, I believe you could say that,'' Severus admitted. Minerva had been right – he was not good at maintaining relationships and would seem that the elderly witch was currently the closest person to him, aside from Harry.

''You haven't told her?'' the boy started gesturing, pointing his finger at himself, then at Severus and again at himself to fill the gaps. Even though Severus understood what Harry had in mind, he wished Harry communicated his thoughts more verbally.

''No, I haven't told Minerva,'' Severus replied impatiently.

''Why?'' the surprise in Harry's voice was sincere and Severus could not grasp it. Why would Harry expect him to tell Minerva?

''I have not told anyone, Harry,'' Severus pointed out.

Harry wrinkled his nose, so similarly to how Lily used to. ''But she's your friend!''

''Your point?'' Severus frowned.

''You told me to tell my friends,'' Harry reminded.

''Is that really what you want?'' Severus asked incredulously. ''Do you want the Headmistress of Hogwarts to find out about your... parentage?''

Harry shrugged. ''Why not? My friends know, why shouldn't yours? McGonagall can keep a secret if you ask her to,'' he reasoned. ''Practice what you preach, you know? It could be good for you to, uhm, you know, have someone to talk about, uh, it.''

''I will think about it,'' Severus said resigned. He had been doing fine without meaningful friendships since his falling out with Lily. Why were people now adamant that he should find some? However, he could not deny that the thought of having someone to discuss his troubles concerning fatherhood was alluring. The unexpected fatherhood still caused him a lot of confusion.

Harry sniffed, alerting Severus. Could it be that damned curse had attacked the boy again? After all, at first the curse had been mistaken for a cold. However, the second thought quickly reassured him that if Harry had got cursed again, Severus would have noticed that through the bond. Severus turned around and reached out to the nightstand. ''Help yourself,'' he offered the child a box of tissues. ''You have a running nose, Harry,'' he pointed out.

''I'm good,'' Harry frowned. ''You know, it's Autumn.''

Severus eyed Harry sceptically. ''I hope you are dressing accurately to the weather?''

Harry rolled his eyes. ''D-'' the boy's eyes widened in passing fear and Severus' heart betrayed him, quickening at the expectation of the word Harry had used the previous day. ''I'm fine!'' Harry replied harshly instead. ''Stop fussing, it doesn't suit you.''

---

Back at the Grimmauld Place Harry received a Floo Network call from Ginny.

''Oh, Harry, we've heard! How is he? We couldn't reach out to you...'' the red-haired girl said worriedly.

''He's in St. Mungo's, but he seems fine now,'' Harry replied a bit stiffly, still worried about his father.

Suddenly Hermione's head appeared next to Ginny's. ''That's a relief! They wrote-''

''Daily Prophet?'' Harry chuckled. ''Yeah, Severus told me not to read it.''

''So you haven't read the news?'' Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

''No, I received a letter from St. Mungo's... He had made me his emergency contact,'' Harry explained, seeing girls' surprised expressions. ''Uh, it's kinda weird talking this way... Maybe I'll join you at the Burrow?''

''Or we'll go to your place?'' Ginny suggested, looking around and went on in a hushed voice. ''You know mum isn't too fond of Snape and I wouldn't want her to get started if she overhears...''

On Sunday Harry paid Severus another visit, but he couldn't go to see Severus as early as he'd like on Monday thanks to his classes. He couldn't really focus during History of The Dark Arts, partially due to the subject boring him out of his senses (and the topic of reforms that Auror Department had undergone in the first decade of 19^th century wasn't interesting either. What it did even to do with Dark Arts?), partially due to his mind being occupied with concern for Severus. Who had attacked him? How they had managed to do it so easily? Severus was an ex-spy for crying out loud! What if they tired again, this time successfully?

The motion within his vision startled him and Harry looked around to see his fellow trainees getting up from their chairs.

''A twelve-inch paper? That's outrageous,'' Harry heard Berenice mutter under her breath.

Great, he had missed the teacher assigning them a paper. ''What kind of paper?'' Harry whispered to Ron in confusion.

''Something about Thaddeus Grim's reforms,'' Ron scrunched up his nose, apparently also not having paid much attention during classes. ''I dunno why we even have this subject,'' he grumbled.

''Hear, hear,'' said Maria walking past Ron's desk.

''Are you going, guys?'' Berenice asked, already by the door.

''In a minute,'' Harry mustered up a weak smile.

''You know, mate, maybe take a day off, say you caught a cold or something...'' Ron whispered conspiratorially. ''I get you, really, even if he's a git. When my dad was in St. Mungo's I was worried sick too!''

''Thanks, man,'' Harry slapped Ron's back. He appreciated that his friend sympathised with him on Severus having landed in hospital, despite Ron's dislike for the Slytherin, but it was already tiring him. Since Saturday his friends were constantly empathising with him and assuring him of their support and that Severus was going to be fine. He knew that, he didn't need their constant surveillance like he was going to break into tears like a child! Besides, he really didn't feel like talking about it.

On their way to the training room the boys met Neville, who greeted them with a bright smile, but then his smile faltered as he looked at Harry. ''You alright?''

Harry clenched his fists. Why people kept asking him if he was alright? It wasn't him who got stabbed in the back! ''Right as rain,'' he said through gritted teeth. ''Only my dad almost got killed and I've got no clue who did this!''

Neville stood for a moment with his mouth agape, while Ron paled. However, this time Harry was not going to pretend his tongue slipped, he was tired of acting like Severus wasn't his kin. Like it was something to be ashamed of.

Neville's lips moved wordlessly, before he was able to utter ''But Harry... uh, your dad...'' Poor good-hearted Neville didn't know how to break it to Harry that his dad was already dead, killed by Voldemort, without hurting his feelings and Harry didn't really know how to break it to Neville that it wasn't James Potter who Harry had in mind this time. However, Neville wasn't an Auror trainee for no reason and after maybe two minutes of three boys awkwardly staring at each other in silence, he began to look for an explanation that made sense. ''No...'' Neville furrowed his eyebrows. ''He's not...'' he ruled out the possibility, but then he looked doubtfully at Harry, still not having received any answer from him. ''Is he?''

Ron coughed, his face turning red for a change.

''Yeah,'' Harry admitted quietly.

Neville's jaw went slack again. ''B-But what about James?'' he asked in a hushed voice.

''Uh, I've got two dads,'' Harry said and felt relief to be able to say it aloud at last.

''How long have you known? Have you seen it in his memories?'' Neville asked fascinated.

''No!'' Harry scoffed. Even if Severus remembered, Harry was certain he wouldn't have shared that memory. ''Um, before my last birthday. It's... it's a longer story,'' he spread his arms awkwardly.

''I'm sure,'' Neville commented, slightly stunned by the news. ''Uh, you know, I could try asking around, maybe they've got some lead.''

''Weren't our tutors having duty on Friday?'' Ron recalled. ''Wait, mate... weren't you in the Department with Proudfoot?''

''I was,'' Harry said reluctantly. ''But it was O'Doherty who went when they called emergency. I only received a letter from St. Mungo's.''

''Was Snape the emergency?'' Neville asked.

''I don't know! He hasn't told me much about the accident,'' Harry defended himself, suddenly feeling guilty over not having asked Severus more questions concerning the injury.

''I could try asking her. Y'know, 'How was your last duty?', 'How should I prepare for mine?', stuff like that. Maybe she'll tell me something,'' Ron suggested.

''Yeah,'' Harry nodded. ''We could try that. I'll try asking Proudfoot, maybe she told him something.''

''Er, hate to interrupt this, but you'll be late for your Field Training,'' Neville pointed out.

Harry cast a time-indicating charm. ''Oh, shit, you're right!''

After the classes Harry went to St. Mungo's, only to find out Severus had been discharged earlier that day. As if Severus couldn't have let Harry know on his own. Thus, Harry Apparated to Cokeworth. He rang the bell maybe five times before he got annoyed. Where the hell Severus had gone?! If not for the fact that his guts weren't informing him of any danger, he would have started to worry about the Slytherin. Resolved not to panic, Harry thought of another place where Severus could have gone.

Having appeared in the Knockturn Alley, he marched angrily towards Severus' shop. He looked through the window and saw a bunch of people inside, among them Severus standing behind the counter.

Harry forcefully pushed the door and walked inside. ''Are you out of your mind?! What are you doing?'' he hissed at the business-owner.

''Working, obviously,'' Severus replied flatly.

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists, fury rendering him speechless for a moment. ''You've just walked out of hospital!''

Severus inhaled slowly. ''Harry, I would ask you not to make scenes in front of customers.''

''Making scenes?! I'm not making scenes, Severus!'' Harry waved his arms furiously. ''There's someone out there who tried to kill you, you know?'' he tried to make a point, theatrically waving his hand at the door. ''What happened to warning Draco against leaving his house? Doesn't this apply to you as well?!''

''I am not concerned about my wellbeing with the famous Auror trainee by my side,'' Severus said smoothly, making Harry let out a muffled scream in fury. ''Should I take it that you require a calming draught?''

''No, I need you to go home,'' Harry seethed. How could be Severus so daring when someone was after him?

''Oh, be assured I intend to, once I am finished, which is after 7 P.M.''

''And you say I lack the self-preservation instinct,'' Harry said unamusedly.

''If you are so concerned, you can keep me company. I really could use a hand at cash register,'' Severus smirked smugly.

''No, thanks,'' Harry grumbled, crossing his arms.

''Well, then, you can sit in the backroom if you get bored, which I expect to happen any second now.''

In the end Harry did not sit in the backroom – instead he brough himself a chair and sat behind the counter, observing the shop and its owner with the most displeased expression on his face. People in the shop curiously glanced at the saviour of the wizardkind sitting behind the retired Hogwarts' Potions Master.

''You are going to scare the customers away with that look on your face, Harry,'' Severus said silkily.

''Well, I can't see them running away when they see yours,'' Harry replied harshly.

''Brat,'' Severus glanced at Harry.

''Git,'' Harry huffed.

After Severus had helped two customers with picking right potions for their needs and accepted money from three other customers, Harry got tired of the silence between them.

''You still have no idea who it was? Maybe you received some threats recently?'' Harry recalled it was one of the first things to look into, as he had been told in his Auror training.

Severus turned around from the counter to look at the teenager. ''If you are asking me for the list of my potential enemies, I would like you to give me appropriate time for that. Listing down half of wizarding Britain is going to take me a while.''

''Do you think it's funny?'' Harry grimaced. ''Look, first Rowle and his friends tried to kill you. Maybe it's another Death Eater on the loose?''

Severus crossed his arms, not sold on Harry's suggestion. ''Why haven't I thought of that earlier? Ah, yes, I seem to remember: if it were a Death Eater, why would they have killed Macnair?'' he ridiculed.

''I dunno,'' Harry shrugged. ''Maybe he told Aurors something he shouldn't have?''

Severus looked unamusedly at his son. ''Stabbing is not Death Eaters' modus operandi, as you are aware, Harry,'' he pointed out silkily.

''I know you think someone is after Death Eaters, but it doesn't make sense either. You're not a Death Eater. You betrayed them!'' Harry argued.

Severus sighed tiredly, slowly rolling his eyes. ''Whatever you are thinking of, stay out of it and under no circumstances try to investigate it on your own hand,'' he warned before turning around again to focus his attention on the shop once more.

''I'm not investigating anything!'' Harry protested.

''Questionable,'' Severus replied flatly, his back facing Harry.

Harry started drumming his fingers on the chair's armrest, getting bored of sitting idly. It seemed that Severus' shop was doing quite alright, judging by the number of people approaching the cash register. Most of them glanced at the Gryffindor, trying to hide away their curiosity. Maybe they thought Severus was granted protection in the person of Harry Potter, Auror-in-training. However, Harry felt he didn't deserve that title, unable even to narrow down the group of possible assailants to some reasonable number.

''It wouldn't have happened if you opened your shop in the Diagon Alley,'' Harry huffed under his nose. Knockturn Alley had notorious reputation, everyone knew it! Judging by the time of attack, someone most likely had been waiting for Severus to leave the shop. Harry knew the exact second when it had happened... The memory of his legs having gone weak flashed in his mind. ''You know, I knew something happened to you. I, uh, felt it,'' he scratched the armrest and glanced at his father, who only slightly turned his head to look at Harry. ''You don't look surprised,'' Harry noted suspiciously. ''You... you know the reason,'' he said cautiously, yet his eyes widened in realisation, now sure that whatever the answers were, Severus had them.

''Not here, Harry,'' Severus turned around and hissed in whisper.

''Tell me!'' Harry demanded. It wasn't normal and he needed to know why something so abnormal had happened to him again. He was done with being lied about matters that concerned him. ''Severus!''

''Not here,'' Severus repeated slowly and glanced at the door as if hesitating. For a moment Harry thought Severus was about to say something more on the subject, but Severus focused on serving his customers.

Harry helped Severus clean up the shop after the clock struck 7 P.M. He was tasked with putting bottled potions that had been placed in wrong spots by customers back into their rightful places on shelves, while Severus was busy cleaning his laboratory.

Once he was finished with the laboratory, the Slytherin walked into the main part of the shop and looked around. Satisfied with its state, he locked the door and cast Anti-Alohomora spell and alarming charm. Then, per Harry's suggestion, two wizards Apparated from the inside of the shop right into Severus' home. It seemed they had different ideas what most important parts of the house were as Severus appeared in his small living room, while Harry in the kitchen. Or maybe it was Harry's stomach guiding him.

''We're not in your shop anymore. Tell me,'' Harry renewed his request, approaching the man.

Severus grimaced. ''We have only arrived, Harry. Can't you hold your horses for a moment?''

Harry looked at the older wizard, the way Severus looked at him without really looking at him not escaping him. ''You know better than anyone else how much has been hidden from me in the past.'' Severus' jaw tensed in reply. ''Come on, I've got the right to know!''

''You are... correct,'' Severus said slowly, each word carefully picked.

''And are you going to act on it?'' Harry asked dubiously. ''Why you don't want to tell me?'' he huffed annoyed. ''You never tell me anything that's important to know. You just wait until I find out myself and then get mad when I do. Stop hiding information from me!''

Severus glanced at Harry and if Harry read the emotions in the former spy's eyes correctly, he saw behind the mask of stoicism the man wore so well some concoction of anger, sorrow and... worry? Fright? Harry wasn't sure. ''I don't think you are going to understand and I don't blame you for it.''

''So you think I'm too stupid?'' Harry snorted offended.

''You are not going to like what you are going to learn. Ignorance can be bliss sometimes,'' Severus warned.

Harry tilted his head, considering Severus' stubborn attempt at not answering Harry's question. The thing about feeling Severus' life being in danger must have been quite recent – he had not felt anything akin to it during Death Eaters' ambush or Nagini's attack. But nothing spectacular had happened since the ambush. If he went further in the past, then the curse that had got to him nearly a year ago, would be his best guess, but then he would have felt something when Severus had been struck with the Cruciatus curse or the slicing spell, wouldn't he?

''The spell I used to banish the curse created a bond between us,'' Severus started carefully. ''I can feel an echo of your pain and you can feel an echo of mine.''

So his first instinct was right? But the ambush refuted that theory. ''That's not possible,'' Harry protested. ''I didn't feel anything when we were attacked by Death Eaters!''

Severus slightly raised an eyebrow as if he doubted Harry's statement. ''Have you not? That is interesting for I have known when you hit your head,'' he replied silkily.

Harry frowned in disbelief at first, but then actually analysed Severus' words. So that's how he knew?! ''Maybe it's a new thing,'' he suggested.

''No, there is no other explanation,'' Severus said firmly. ''I have expected some... side effects of such a kind, so to speak.'' Harry furrowed his forehead in confusion. ''Are you aware what kind of curse had attacked you?''

''Some ancient curse created by Gryffindor. So what?''

''Yes, the Amens curse to be precise, which targets soul,'' Severus explained factually.

''What?'' Harry stared at the man, unable to utter more than that in the deepest disbelief. Why would Gryffindor create such a curse in the first place?

''I am almost certain that the curse had attacked you instead of the Dark Lord, because of your connection to him. Based on that information I came up with a remedy.''

''What kind of remedy?'' Harry spoke one word after another like he was struggling to piece them into a sentence. What kind of cure would create this kind of connection between Severus and him?

''A successful one,'' Severus replied shortly, like he tried to cut the conversation short.

''Wow, such a groundbreaker,'' Harry rolled his eyes. ''Stop playing that game – you know I'm going to find out myself with my friends' help if you don't tell me.'' Maybe it was a low blow to blackmail Severus with the danger of Harry carrying his own investigation, but he needed the answer one way or another, and Severus knew he wasn't bluffing.

''I...'' Severus' voice wavered for a fraction of second, but it reclaimed its silky, confident tone almost immediately. ''Split my soul.''

Harry wanted to protest, but couldn't find his tongue.

''I put a piece of my soul into your body,'' Severus said calmly, like it wasn't a life-changing information.

Harry went even more pale, if it was even possible. ''No! How could- I'm not your horcrux!'' he roared in anger and confusion. It didn't make any sense, none at all! Why would Severus do that to him?

''You are not!'' Severus raised his voice. ''I told you I did not expect you to understand.''

''Why?'' Harry yelled, fury still burning bright fuelled by a sense of betrayal. Wasn't Severus supposed to protect Harry? Why had he used Harry in such a twisted way?

''I don't know,'' Severus huffed. ''Maybe because I am your father?'' he ridiculed.

''What kind of father turns his child into a horcrux?!'' Harry seethed, clenching his fists in barely contained anger.

Severus two black endless voids flamed with fury. ''I wouldn't ever do something so cruel to you!'' he roared. He breathed heavily before he composed himself and his eyes once again emanated cold calmness. He looked at the boy's slightly terrified expression. ''It is not a horcrux,'' he added more desperately this time.

''Then what?!'' Harry's body was shaking in anger, not so different from the one he had felt whenever Harry had seen Bellatrix.

''The horcrux-creating spell is not the only one spell that manipulates soul... but maybe I can make it easier for you to grasp. Would you follow me to the laboratory?'' Severus requested.

Frankly Harry wasn't sure why he followed the older wizard as he had a feeling he was walking straight into a trap. How could he have trusted this man? How could he have started thinking of him as of his family? And why Severus still acted as if he cared when his evil plan had been revealed?

When they entered the home laboratory, Severus approached the short cabinet. He opened a drawer and produced a basin, which he placed at the top of the cabinet.

''Is that... the Pensieve?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows. It looked different from the one he had seen at Hogwarts.

''Yes, it is a Pensieve. What, did you truly think there was only one?'' Severus asked clearly enjoying himself at surprising the Gryffindor.

Harry eyed the basin curiously, wondering how it had come into Severus' possession. Had he bought it? It must have cost a fortune! Maybe it was the Prince family heirloom? Maybe Dumbledore had gifted it to Severus? Or maybe Voldemort?

''I think it will be easier for you to understand if you see what happened,'' Severus said putting the tip of his wand to his temple. Silver strands emerged from his head. With a flick of hand he poured them into the Pensieve. Harry insecurily glanced at the former spy. ''Don't say you're having second thoughts, Harry. Do I need to remind you how eager you once were to look into my memories?''

Harry sighed heavily. Severus truly loved reminding him of his most reckless actions. He looked once again at the man and his mind was warning him against going along with the Slytherin's plan and telling him to run for his life instead. However, Harry was a Gryffindor and he wasn't going to back away from danger, especially when he was so close to receiving the answer at last. He dived headfirst into the Pensieve. His body was doing weird flips as if he were a professional acrobat. When his feet finally touched the floor he was standing in the hospital room in St. Mungo's, few meters away from a bed in which another Harry lay, with Severus sitting by his side.

Severus opened up his eyes and took a deep breath, black eyes clear with determination. He let go of Harry's hand and took out his wand, keeping a strong grip on the wood as if the man was trying to dispel any remaining doubts still lingering in his head. With a graceful gesture he placed the tip of his wand over his own chest. ''Anima mea scissa est. Ecce animam meam dirumpo,'' he started the incantation. At first it seemed the spell had no effect. ''Anima mea scissa est. Ecce animam meam dirumpo,'' the man repeated like it was a monotonous chant during a meditation.

Harry stood there, invisible to the people in the memory and watched the scene, realising the chant felt oddly familiar... he knew that rhythm from that weird dream he'd had before waking up in St. Mungo's!

Severus kept on repeating the incantation, while slowly moving the hand grasping the wand away from his chest, as if some invisible hand was trying to push Severus' hand back to his chest. In the narrow space between Severus' torso and the tip of his wand some ethereal mist- or smoke- or web-like substance appeared. In a way it reminded of extracted memories, despite being golden in colour.

As the Potions Master was reciting the incantation, his voice and movements became more and more strained. ''Anima mea scissa est! Ecce animam meam dirumpo!'' he said with stronger conviction in his voice as if trying to persuade himself to keep going. It was clear as day the spell caused him pain, even though the man managed to hide it surprisingly well.

When the tip of his wand has moved away from his chest for about 10 inches, Severus was struggling to catch his breath. ''An-ima mea scissa essst,'' he wheezed. ''Ecce aniiimam meam dirumpo,'' he spoke quietly inhaling on the 'animam'. His eyes were becoming unfocused and it seemed he was going to pass out any second now. Harry's stomach churned at the sight of his- well, his father.

Inspite of pain the man kept chanting the incantation and moving his hand away from his chest. The golden substance linking his wand with his body was mostly coming from Severus' chest, but it also flowed from his head and his limbs.

It looked like... like he was trying to pull himself out of his body, Harry realised. And in a way he was, at least a part of himself.

By the time the ex-spy's hand was about 18 inches away from his chest, he was spasmodically panting. His right hand was trembling and his head violently thrust back as his black irises rolled up twitching at the edge of his eyelids. ''AHnimaaa meAH scisssa e-ehst,'' he moaned and stopped for a moment, seeming having forgotten the incantation. It was a miracle Severus was still able to speak at all. ''Ecce,'' he wordlessly opened and closed his mouth several times. ''Animam meam di-i-rumppp-o,'' his voice was small, hurt and insecure. Harry didn't know if it was possible but somehow the man seemed to be more in pain than under the Cruciatus curse. The young wizard watched the man's whole body trembling in anguish and his usually unhealthily pale complexion turn into a morbid shade of white.

Harry's first thought was to grab Severus' hand and stop this torture. He moved a step forward before he remembered that the man had survived the agony and was standing next to him in the room as Harry watched the memory looking for answers. Harry turned his gaze away with wet eyes to his own sickly form in the bed, not wanting anymore to witness the scene. He shouldn't have asked questions. He didn't want to know the truth anymore. Not when it was so painful. Now he understood Severus' unwillingness to speak of this event.

Harry squeezed his eyes tight as he heard the man's strained voice. ''ANIMA MEA SCISSA EST! ECCE ANIMAM MEAM DIRUMPO!'' The boy hesitantly opened up one eye – the cry of despair should be enough to split any soul. He saw Severus move his hand forcefully away from his chest with one final flick. It looked like he was ripping out a bandage. Harry had no idea where the man had found the strength to finish the spell, but it had worked. Harry felt ridiculous for being so surprised – the mere fact that he was watching the memory was a proof Severus had succeeded.

As Severus finished the spell, his body slumped forward. Harry wasn't able to see the man's face, now hidden by his long greasy hair. The Slytherin was breathing heavily, but didn't let go of the wand at which end the golden substance was floating. After a few moments the man straightened his back, swallowing breathlessly.

Harry thought Severus was going to throw up. As gross as it would be, it wouldn't decrease the respect he had for the man. Harry felt his own chest tighten. Through the years despite the absolute lack of gratitude Severus kept protecting Harry, even at the risk of his own life – and soul apparently. And how Harry repaid him? With accusations and hostility towards the man again.

The Potions Master now held his wand over Harry-in-bed's body and started gentle circulating movements, strikingly contrasting with the horrors of the previous incantation. He was slowly moving his wand over Harry's head, then chest, then legs, back to chest and back to head and again. Then a new incantation followed ''Anima mea tua est. Accipe animam meam''. Snape was past quite a few circles around Harry's body, calmly repeating the incantation. The sight was breath-taking, beautiful even as the golden substance trailed the wand in graceful movement. Harry, however, wasn't sure what was supposed to happen. Judging by increasingly irritated expression on Severus' face, whatever he was doing wasn't what he was hoping to achieve. Snape furrowed his eyebrows and Harry spotted in his dark eyes a deep concern. Once more Harry was overtaken by sympathy for the man he owed so much to. He wanted to comfort the man, to tell him his plan was going to work out.

And then the free end of the golden thread latched itself onto Harry-in-bed's chest. Harry felt very strangely, watching the substance slowly sink into his own body and he absent-mindedly touched his own chest as if to check if it really was inside him. The end of the substance separated itself from the tip of Severus' wand and the golden mist-like thread disappeared inside Harry-in-bed's body.

Now the whole process was finished Snape appeared even more miserable, sitting by Harry's side. His face was paler than usual, his greasy black hair even more unkept and eyes full of pain and remorse. The Slytherin gripped the metal frame of the bed, trying to get up, but his legs were too weak to hold him. He fell back on his chair. Some time later the man tried again, this time successfully raising his body with a pained hiss. He grabbed the metal frame of the bed at Harry's legs, steadying himself and walked slowly slightly bent over towards the door of the room.

Harry noticed the other him waking up and hazily furrowing his eyebrows at the sight of his teacher leaving. Then he was forcefully pushed out of the vision. He felt his body doing a flip (mostly it was his stomach that was spinning, though) as his legs found the floor by the Pensieve. The memory has ended. He gaped at the man clad in black robes standing next to him with his arms crossed.

''I'm-I'm sorry, Severus,'' Harry said sorrowfully. He wasn't exactly sure what for he was apologising – for having got himself cursed, forced the man the take such unimaginable steps or accused him of having used Harry for his own means. His shoulders sagged in shame at the renewed contempt for the man, even though it had lasted maybe five minutes. Now his anger took a different route – he wasn't mad at his father anymore, but at himself.

Severus took a step forward the Pensieve and spun his wand above its surface. The memory caught the tip of the wand like a fish taking a bait. He raised his hand and let the memory enter his mind once again. ''There is no point in apologising,'' he said stiffly.

Harry looked down at his shoes. After a moment of awkward silence he started swaying from side to side, trying to come up with a way to express what he wanted to say without being needlessly blunt. Gosh, Severus wasn't making it any easier. ''So...,'' he started. ''You put a piece of your soul into me, but I am not your horcrux. What was it then?''

''I performed a dark spell that has long fallen into obscurity, probably even more so than horcruxes themselves,'' Severus absent-mindedly reached for his Dark Mark and rubbed it. Harry noticed the older wizard tended to do that when he talked about the darkest of spells. ''I found it in the Secrets of the Darkest Art. I don't know if Ms. Granger had gone so far in her reading to learn of existence of this exact spell. As you can guess from your prior experience with soul-manipulating spells, our souls are linked now. I am not happy with the implications it brings and certainly take no pride in performing the spell. Do not worry – I will not try to possess you. Moreover, I do not believe this spell allows for this kind of connection.'' Was that an attempt at a joke? Harry wondered. ''Know that had there been a different way to help you, I would have chosen it. Unfortunately, even the most experienced healers at St. Mungo's weren't able to find the cure and I found myself working under the pressure of time.''

''Then take it back!'' urged Harry and seeing the wild expression on Severus' face he amended himself. ''Not that I'm not grateful – you saved my life. Again,'' he added defeated. ''But even creating a horcrux is reversible if one expresses genuine regret and remorse. This should be reversible too, right? I don't want your soul to remain fragmented!'' Harry thought of the Voldemort-baby at the King's Cross. He couldn't let similar fate await Severus.

Severus squeezed his hand around the Dark Mark in anger. ''And when will you start thinking before speaking? There is no telling if the curse has been completely removed,'' he sneered. ''As we speak it may be dormant in your soul.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''But you cured me!''

''The method I used was highly experimental, Harry. It is likely the spell didn't completely lift the curse, but prevented it from working. In such a case undoing the spell would cause the curse to re-awaken.''

''It's worth giving a try! Splitting one's soul is one of the worst things that can happen!'' Harry couldn't get the image of what remained of Voldemort's piece of soul at the crossroads. His stomach churned at the thought it could be his father.

''Listen, Harry,'' Severus let go of his own arm and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, firmly gripping it. ''I'm not taking any chances, am I clear?''

''But-!''

''Out of question,'' Severus cut in harshly.

''And what would have happened if you failed to cast the soul-splitting spell?'' Harry asked even though he knew what answer to expect as he recalled his father's weakened state following the casting of spell. He had guessed months ago that Severus' sickness after Harry's healing had been connected to the spell Severus had cast, but now that awareness frightened him.

''Then I would most likely die or become a soulless carcass like the victims of Dementor's kiss,'' Severus said matter-of-factly and it shocked Harry how indifferent Severus was to the matter of his own life and soul. As if it didn't matter if he lived or not, if his soul was sentenced to eternal suffering.

Harry wasn't going to give it a rest. ''Why were you even able to perform it in the first place? I thought only the most cruel and merciless murder caused enough damage to soul to split it. You killed Dumbledore because he asked you to do it. To protect Draco. It shouldn't have torn your soul!''

Severus sighed tiredly. ''Stop waving your arms so furiously, you're going to knock over the Pensieve. You Gryffindors... How many times do I need to tell you this was not a horcrux-creating spell? What is a requirement for one spell, does not have to be a necessity for another – think of the existence of numerous levitating charms. And there are many ways to tear a soul,'' he spoke the last sentence somewhat gloomily.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, not knowing what to do with himself. It hadn't been his fault he had got himself cursed, but he couldn't help but be mad at himself for the harm he had caused his father. Maybe he shouldn't have looked for answers, but ignorance wouldn't have changed the facts, which were, objectively speaking, terrifying. He really needed someone to hug him right now.

Chapter Text

Severus glanced at the clock. Only thirty six minutes to closing, he thought, longing to finally get out of his shop. Harry's short visit had taken Severus' mind from annoying customers for a moment, but the truth was that customer service was tiring the Slytherin – at Hogwarts he could set his sarcasm loose and take it out on students and some of his deserving colleagues like Lockhart to relieve the stress a little. Hell, even during some Death Eaters meetings he had been able to slip some spiteful comment here and there without revealing his true loyalties, but he could not afford this luxury now as it could drive customers away. The former spy thought with disdain about those of sellers who often lowered themselves to flattering their customers with smooth-talk and fake smiles. He had already spent too many years of his life flattering powerful wizards to humiliate himself in such a way again.

Merlin, he really had to find an employee to take care of customer service once his business was stable enough.

The bell chimed, announcing arrival of another customer. He should have been glad his shop was gaining popularity, but it was already half past six. Had they no more interesting matters to take care of? However, the sight of a tartan robe brought a prospect of a less irritating customer.

''Not in the Hogwarts, Headmistress?'' Severus silkily addressed his former superior.

''Why, Severus, with that approach I am afraid you are not going to get far,'' Minerva replied with a pretended indignation. ''I had some matters to attend outside the castle. It seemed a good opportunity at paying a visit to your shop. However, I should be rather surprised to find you running your business a mere week after the attack,'' she pointed out with a pinch of accusation, not unlike to the one she had shown having seen Severus last year out of bed in his sickness.

Severus hoped the witch was not going to start nagging about the precautions he should have taken. He had heard enough of that from Harry already. ''The shop is not going to run itself,'' he replied smoothly. ''Speaking of which – is there a way I could be of help, Minerva?''

''Thank you, Severus, I'm good for now. However, should I ever need a potion for my private affairs, I will keep your business in mind,'' Minerva looked around the shop and turned to its owner with a soft smile. ''You've got a rather decent number of clientele for the hour.''

''I am afraid I do,'' Severus admitted flatly. ''Excuse me for a moment,'' he said as another woman approached him with several bottles in tow.

The customer glanced abashedly at the Headmistress of Hogwarts as she paid for her potions.

Minerva watched the woman leave the shop. ''It wasn't the most wise decision of mine to come here at such a busy time. I would not want to keep you away from your job.''

''Do not fret, Minerva – I'm closing in half an hour,'' Severus reminded. Minerva's visit did not bother him in the slightest – Harry tended to come and go as he pleased, ignoring the curious glances he had been stealing from the customers each time. Maybe Severus should advertise his shop as the favourite potions shop of the saviour of the wizardkind? Ah, yes, he did not have to – Rita Skeeter had already done it for him with her gossip column.

''I am happy your shop turned out such a success. And it would seem some famous names are regular customers,'' Minerva said with a knowing smirk on her face.

''My, Minerva, I had not taken you for an avid reader of Skeeter's drivel,'' Severus' voice was laced with sarcasm.

''Oh, no, I saw Potter heading for the Diagon Alley. I don't think there is another shop on this street he would be keen on visiting,'' Minerva slightly raised an eyebrow to make a point.

Severus looked at the elderly witch. It was not the place to reveal the secret, naturally, but since he had gained Harry's permission to share it with Minerva, the idea had been a recurring thought. It was as an alluring idea as much as it was repulsive to the former spy to share intelligence so freely. He knew a better place to make up his mind.

''Should you have the time, I would like to invite you to my home once I close for today. It should give us a space for a more proper conversation,'' Severus reasoned.

''I believe the school is going to survive an evening without my presence,'' Minerva decided.

''Half past seven, then?'' Severus proposed.

An hour later the former Headmaster of Hogwarts met with the Headmistress of Hogwarts in Spinner's End. He opened the door, letting his guest in.

Minerva looked around, visiting the place for the first time in her life. It was most likely not what she had expected – everyone who had entered Severus' house had been rather surprised and by no means in a positive way. Severus wondered if thw witch could feel frequent Harry's presence within those walls. Since the attack the boy dropped in daily, even if only for fifteen minutes, to check on Severus, which was equally annoying and endearing if Severus dared to call it in such a manner. He could have sworn the Gryffindor's visits had changed the house, making it less grim somehow.

''I must say I am overjoyed you returned to health so quickly,'' Minerva said, accepting a cup of tea. ''Have you received any information on the assailant? Do the Aurors have any lead?''

''How would I know? The Department does not share any information concerning their investigations,'' Severus pointed out, sitting down in his armchair.

''I am aware,'' Minerva said between sips of tea. ''However, they should keep you informed for your own safety! Have they sent an Auror to keep an eye on you at least?''

Severus slightly raised his eyebrows. ''Why would they? It is not some sort of kindergarden for them to send someone to watch over me.''

Minerva scoffed. ''You know what I mean, Severus. The danger is still out there. It is reckless to ignore it and act like nothing had happened. Maybe Potter knows something? You could try asking him if he comes to your shop so often,'' she suggested.

Severus' jaw slightly tensed. The last thing he wanted was to get Harry involved into this. Harry often acted irrationally, especially when in strong emotions. And the boy was rather emotional. Severus was certain his son would do something careless and quite likely dangerous, acting before thinking, like the boy had done when coming to the mutt's rescue.

''I do not think the case had been handed over to Harry's tutor and even if it had, him talking left and right about investigations would prove him unfit for the job of Auror,'' Severus reasoned.

Minerva raised an eyebrow and there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. ''Harry? I have never thought I would live to hear you call him by his first name. Truly he must be a regular at your shop.''

''We...'' Severus' started, his first instinct being to hide the truth behind the matters of lesser importance. He could tell Minerva that he had offered Harry lessons in preparation for the entrance exam, he could even tell her that they had discussed many misunderstandings that had piled through the years of their acquaintance, but what would be the point of that?

Minerva furrowed her eyebrows in concern. ''I'm sorry. If it is an uneasy topic for you, forget I mentioned it.''

''It is, but I suppose nothing is ever easy with the most famed cub of yours. No, Harry is not a problem this time – simply a lot has changed in my life since I had left Hogwarts, my views on Harry included,'' Severus explained.

''It's perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed by such a pivotal changes,'' Minerva noted empathetically.

Severus chuckled darkly. The witch did not have a slightest idea how pivotal changes in his life had happened in the last few months. ''I need to confess something,'' he bent forward, his grip firmly set on his cup of tea. ''I have not been entirely honest with you about my decision to teach for one last year. I have stayed only because of Harry.''

Minerva let out a short, amused laugh. ''I have already figured that out.''

''Are you not mad that I have used you?''

''Used me?'' Minerva snorted. ''Don't be ridiculous, Severus. You performed your work dutifully, so I don't see how that would be using me. The reason behind your decision had been a rational one, considering that you had to save Potter once more. I cannot be mad for that,'' she scoffed.

''I would like to believe Harry is going to stay out of trouble now that he is a graduatee, but I know it is not happening,'' Severus said flatly. He did not like being reminded of what he had done to save Harry. It was a miracle the boy still wanted to keep in touch with him following the disclosure of soul-manipulating spell usage. Harry's history with similar spells should have been enough to make him leave Severus' life for once and good this time, but Harry had had a rather mild reaction, having freaked out only for a moment. Trully the boy was an enigma.

''Well, he is an Auror trainee and that is a highly dangerous profession. You can't hope to keep an adult wizard out of trouble all the time,'' Minerva pointed out and being met with Severus' scoff, she went on. ''You are not in charge of him anymore. You should let him be, Severus. I know it is difficult for you, considering your history with Lily, but you should let go. You can't move on holding onto past.''

Severus took a sip from his cup, to occupy himself with something else than mulling over Minerva's words. He understood her sentiment and the elderly witch would have been right had Harry not been his son. ''It's not about holding onto past,'' Severus sighed, staring into the cup. ''It's about the past catching up with me.''

''Are you sure? It seems to me that there are matters you are desperate not to let go of,'' Minerva's keen eyes studied him from behind her glasses.

Severus did not shy away from the Headmistress' gaze and his black eyes met hers. He knew his relationship with Harry was not that of standard father-son relationship and to outsiders it probably looked even unhealthier. ''I cannot let go of Harry. He is... important to me,'' he said simply, even though it had taken him a great effort to be this sincere. He had never said that thing aloud, not even to Harry. Especially not to Harry.

Minerva smiled softly. ''And you are important to him. I saw it when he walked into the ward. I was not saying he should estrange yourself from Harry, just give him space. He is an adult wizard, you can't supervise him like a child. Though, I am happy you two found mutual understanding at last. Merlin knows he needs a mentor in his life.''

''Well, well, Minerva, and who is speaking of Harry as of a minor now?'' Severus smirked smugly.

''Mentoring does not necessarily mean treating like a child,'' the Headmistress pointed out.

---

''So, uh,'' Harry cleared this throat and looked awkwardly at his friends as they arrived at the 12 Grimmauld Place. ''Thanks for coming here. Uhm, would you like something to eat or drink?''

''A cup of tea would be nice,'' Luna noted.

''I could eat,'' Ron shrugged.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. ''You could always eat.''

Harry called Kreacher to bring them some tea and sandwiches and when the house elf was gone, he turned to wave at a large corkboard on legs. ''So, I've prepared a board,'' he said, even though he was sure his friends had already noticed the object standing in the middle of the living room. Frankly, he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he had seen in movies detectives use board while investigating.

''And what are we going to do with it?'' Neville asked dubiously.

''Isn't it obvious? We're going to stick our leads and clues. It helps organise information we've gathered,'' Hermione said in her know-it-all voice.

''And how much have we gathered?'' asked Ginny.

The most informed part of the group – Auror trainees, exchanged looks like they were trying to assess how much they had learnt so far. Judging by their faces, it appeared that there wasn't much data between the three.

''Unfortunately the person who should be the most informed about the attack doesn't know anything,'' Harry admitted bitterly. He had tried asking Severus about the attack multiple times and even suggested using Severus' Pensieve to find some clues in his dad's memories, but Severus had always refused.

''I'm at loss too, mate – O'Doherty was the one to arrive at the scene, but she isn't investigating the case,'' Ron said.

''But maybe your tutor told you something?'' Ginny wondered, glancing at the annoying lack of clues on the board.

Harry huffed in anger. There had been a nearly lethal case of stabbing and the Department decided to drop the case?!

Neville, however, did not seem startled by Ron's revelation at all. ''Yeah, they gave it to Williamson,'' seeing surprised expressions of his fellow Auror trainees, he went on. ''It's a standard practice to hand an emergency duty case to other Auror for investigation – otherwise cases would be unevenly distributed between Aurors.''

''How about we start from the beginning? Let's put in order things we already know and then we can think of things we don't,'' Hermione said in her analytical voice.

Harry took a deep breath. He really did not like talking about Severus getting hurt – not only the event had been stressful on its own, but the subject always reminded Harry of the feeling and of their unnatural bond. The bond that left him at loss, because no one aside from Severus would understand it. Harry knew his friends would react with anger and misunderstanding to the connection between him and Severus, much like he had at first, if he ever told them. And if anyone outside their group was to find out, Severus surely would face another trial. Harry longed to get this burden off his chest, but he did not wish to worry his friends. And then, he needed to find the attacker, because as much as Severus loved to scold others for the lack of safety measures, to the former spy said safety measures did not apply, apparently. ''Severus was attacked after he had left his shop, which would be around quarter past 7 P.M. The attack took place in the Knockturn Alley, maybe one hundred meters from Severus' shop towards the Diagon Alley.''

''We could start with checking the scene,'' Ginny suggested.

Ron frowned at his sister. ''I don't think there's anything left to see there. It's been almost a week.''

''There could be still leftovers of magical aura,'' Luna chimed in.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the rather unusual idea of his friend. ''Severus was stabbed. With a knife,'' he added for clarity. He had thought the entire wizarding Britain had heard about the stabbing, but Luna being Luna tended to avoid Daily Prophet. Harry wondered if Xenophilius had written anything about the attack in the Quibbler.

Luna tilted her head, making her earrings dangle. ''I had no idea you two grew so close to go by first names, Harry,'' she said looking at the boy.

Harry had a feeling Ravenclaw's pale eyes were drilling their way through his body right into his soul and for a second was scared she would see there a piece of Severus' soul. Another thought that appeared in his mind was that Luna would have probably made a good Legilimens with that stare. ''Yeah, well,'' he absent-mindedly started widgeting with the edge of his shirt. Luna was his only friend that he hadn't involved into the secret of his true blood ties and he knew it was unfair to her. He wanted to tell her, but gosh, contrary to what Harry had thought, having four people knowing, didn't make it any easier to let other know. He glanced in the kitchen's direction, secretly hoping that Kreacher would arrive with their snacks and give the group something else to focus rather Harry's relationship with Severus. ''How should I say it? You see, Luna, not so long ago I found out that, uh, Severus is my, um, dad. But maybe don't tell anyone, especially your dad?''

''Oh, congratulations, Harry!'' Luna smiled faintly, not disturbed in the tinest by the revelation. She did not even look surprised.

''Thanks?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure if it even was something to be congratulated upon.

The blonde tilted her head like she was trying to get a better angle, making her look somewhat similar to a bird. ''You know, you two have similar jawlines.''

''No, they don't!'' two youngest Weasley siblings protested in unison.

''Can we return to the attacker?'' Harry asked tiredly. ''Severus doesn't know who it was, but he thinks it was someone after Death Eaters. He thinks the attack on him and murder of Macnair are connected.''

''Wasn't Macnair killed in a muggle neighbourhood? Snape was stabbed in the middle of the one of the most wizarding streets out there!'' Ron wrinkled his nose.

''It's an interesting lead, but I dunno if two's a pattern,'' said Neville.

''Three,'' Luna corrected him.

The high pitched rattle of porcelain filled the room as Kreacher walked in, carrying a heap of sandwiches on a big plate, six smaller plates for sandwiches, a large teapot, six cups and six tiny plates for the cups. The house elf placed the entire load on a coffee table and cried out. ''Kreacher apologises Master for arriving so late! Kreacher is a bad bad house elf and must be punished! Oh, what would have Kreacher's poor mistress said if she saw it?''

''Kreacher, stop!'' Harry exclaimed as the house elf was readying himself to start banging his head against a wall. ''It's alright. You did a great job.''

''But if mistress-'' Kreacher urged.

''It's alright. We are all grateful for your help,'' Harry assured and Hermione, Ginny and Neville nodded in agreement, Luna being too occupied with her thoughts and Ron with food to pay attention.

The house elf grumbled something, clearly not on the same page, but walked away without further complaints.

''Two,'' Ron disagreed, already munching on a sandwich. ''Macnair and Snape.''

''And Sigrid Travers,'' Luna noted. ''Oh, you didn't know? My dad wrote about it in the March issue of the Quibbler,'' she explained rather surprised her friends had not read about it as she noticed their puzzled expressions. ''Sigrid Travers fled to Italy before the Ministry could catch her, most likely hiding at her husband's cousin's. However, she was found dead this February in the streets of Pavia.''

''Stabbed?'' Neville asked.

''But why would anyone travel to Italy to find some Death Eater hiding Merlin knows where and then return here?'' Ron wondered.

''Exactly! Haven't Rowle and Macnair escaped nearly a year ago? Why not go directly after them?'' Harry pointed out.

''Maybe it's not a single person, but a group?'' Hermione suggested.

Ginny crossed her arms. ''Let's say all three cases are connected... Can we get something from the Italian one and Macnair's?''

''I don't think we could access the Italian...,'' Hermione bit her finger, lost in thoughts. ''Is the Auror Department in the possession of the knives with which Snape and Macnair were stabbed?''

''It should – we keep this kind of stuff in a special storageroom,'' Neville noted ad covered his mouth, realising what he had said. ''Uh, I probably shouldn't have told you that,'' he embarrassedly scratched his cheek.

''We could-no, it's too risky,'' Hermione said resigned.

''What's too risky?'' Ron asked curiously.

''If we could get an access to the knives... but we're not breaking into the Ministry again!'' Hermione said firmly. ''We could all get sacked if we were found! If not worse!''

Ron made a face that drew everyone's attention and his silence at the attention was rather meaningful. ''...What if I told you we don't have to break in?'' The group looked expectantly at Ron, hooked on the suspense. ''I've got a duty tomorrow – it'll be only me, O'Doherty and Proudfoot in the entire Department.''

Hermione stared angrily at her boyfriend. ''Ronald, no!''

''What if one of the Aurors needs something from the storageroom and catches you mid-action?'' Ginny asked.

''No problem, Harry and Neville could go with me. One of us can stand guard,'' Ron announced.

''I had my duty last week, mate,'' Harry reminded his red-haired friend.

''Yeah, but you've got your cloak,'' Ron reminded.

''Are you two going to fit under one cloak?'' Ginny asked sceptically.

''I think it might work,'' said Luna.

Harry considered the idea. Yes, it was risky, but alluring... he had missed this kind of mischief. ''Are there any sneakoscopes placed around the storageroom?''

''No, why?'' Neville furrowed his eyebrows at the question.

On Friday evening Ron entered the Ministry, followed by his two fellow trainees hiding under the Invisibility Cloak.

''I'll meet you by the storageroom in half an hour if everything goes according to the plan,'' Ron whispered.

''Alright, if you don't come, we're going in without you,'' Harry whispered back.

''Kay,'' Ron whispered and left for his tutor's office.

The remaining two walked quietly with their legs slightly bent, heading for ladies bathroom at level five, where they were to meet Hermione. It wasn't the best place for meetings, but at least they would not risk disclosing Hermione's involvement in the scheme, if things went pear-shaped. Neville and Harry entered a booth and closed it, waiting for Hermione's arrival.

They heard a sound of heels clinking against the tiles and someone yanked the knob of their bathroom stall, only to find out it was closed. The boys held their breath as a woman looked down to check if someone was inside, but not she could not see any legs in the gap below the door.

''Another poltergeist,'' the witch huffed. ''Second time this month! This is below the Ministry's standards!'' she announced outraged, probably wanting said poltergeist to hear her, and walked away, probably heading for another bathroom.

Maybe few stressful minutes later they heard another person walk into the room, whistling the Double Trouble tune. Neville and Harry exchanged knowing looks – it was Hermione's signal. The girl knocked on the door and the boys, not taking the cloak off, let her in. Only when the door was closed again, they let their friend see them.

''Alright, I'm going to be brief,'' Hermione said and reached inside her bag. ''These are muggle instant cameras,'' she explained in a hushed tone, handing first two cameras to her friends. ''Muggle pictures don't move, which is not an issue in our case, but more importantly they don't leave any magical trace. And remember not to use Lumos, or any spells to be on the safe side,'' she added handing them two flashlights. ''With no magical trace no one should know you walked in there and took pictures if you don't get caught.''

Then Hermione reached out past the boys, to Harry's confusion, and pulled the string, flushing the toilet.

''Cloak on,'' she urged and once the boys were hidden she left the stall, followed by her friends.

Hermione stopped to wash her hands and the boys headed for the Auror level. They halted by the storageroom and Neville reached out for his wand.

''Neville,'' Harry hissed in whisper.

''Right, sorry, I almost forgot,'' Neville said abashedly. ''Do you know what time it is?''

''Uh,'' Harry glanced at his watch. ''We still have ten minutes till Ron comes.''

The wait for the red-head was making two Gryffindors restless – they couldn't talk or move much not to risk being exposed. Finally they saw Ron walk down the corridor.

''Are you here?'' Ron whispered by the storageroom's door.

''Yeah,'' Harry whispered back. ''Alright you stay here and we're coming in.''

''Me? Why me?'' Ron protested in a low voice.

''Uhm, you know, you can explain your presence here, we can't,'' Neville pointed out.

Ron glared daggers at the source of sound, as Harry and Neville did not dare to take the cloak off. ''It was my idea,'' he hissed.

Harry looked at Neville opening the door. ''Knock twice if anyone's walking by.''

''Mate!'' Ron huffed, but accepted his role, having been outvoted. He pressed his back to the wall, hoping to make himself less visible. ''Then give me the cloak at least!''

Harry followed Neville. The room was crowded with shelves full of objects and evidence of various provenance. For a rather spacious room it felt pretty tight, but there was nothing that would alert Harry. ''Fine,'' he huffed. ''Come in.''

Ron anxiously looked around and sneaked into the storageroom. He closed the door, leaving them in darkness. Harry removed the cloak from himself and Neville. Then he reached for the flashlight – it produced not too strong light, to Harry's disappointment.

''Take it and stop complaining,'' Harry threw the cloak at Ron.

''And don't forget to warn us if someone is coming!'' Neville reminded.

''Knock when you are ready to leave. And don't take too long. O'Doherty will start suspecting something if I spent too much time outside her office,'' Ron warned, carefully opening the door.

''Then tell her you got diarrhoea or something,'' Harry rolled his eyes.

Neville looked at the flahslight, not really knowing what to do with it.

''You need to press the button,'' Harry explained, already busy looking for their clues.

Neville was pretty amazed at the way the flashlight worked and he pressed the button few more times, just to get an idea. ''Right, sorry,'' he said embarrassedly, catching Harry's impatient expression. ''Your first time in storageroom?'' he asked, seeing how clueless Harry was. ''Cases are sorted by the date when they were handed over to the Auror Office.''

''I don't see any dates!'' Harry huffed. Each box filled with objects was described with a file number, which wasn't helpful at all. He took a box from a shelf and looked inside, but spotting no knife decided it wasn't what he was looking for.

Neville, on the other hand, was moving swiftly through the maze of shelves. ''Newer cases should be here. Here's one Savage and I were investigating in August,'' he waved at Harry to join him.

''Have you solved it?'' Harry asked.

''Not yet,'' Neville replied after an awkward moment. ''But we're getting closer. You know, some cases lie here for years, unsolved.''

Harry hoped that solving the case of Severus' attacker was going to take less time than that. Letting the man wonder for such a long time with the danger still present seemed a disastrous idea.

Neville started toying with the camera. ''How do you use that? I think I found Macnair's case.''

Harry joined his friend and curiously peeked into the box. He put his own camera's viewfinder to his right eye, closer the left eye and pressed the button. Camera flashed briefly and spat out a picture. Harry grabbed it and waved it in the air to dry it a little. ''Like that.''

''So almost like the magical ones?'' Neville noted curiously. He put the box on the floor and directed the lens of his camera at the box. ''I need more light,'' he said as he tried his hand at taking muggle instant pictures.

Harry directed the light at the box. Satisfied with the pictures, the teenagers put the box back in its rightful place.

''So, who is investigating Macnair's case?'' Harry asked as they moved further inside the room, searching for Severus' box.

''Everly... well, mostly Everly – other Aurors helped too, since it was a Death Eater on the run. The Office worked as if on fire,'' Neville said, flashing his light at rows of boxes. ''But once Macnair was dead there wasn't much interest in it. Maybe they thought it was a muggle?'' he shrugged.

''But it were a muggle why would the Department take it over?'' Harry scoffed.

''We always take over muggle cases if there's a wizard or a witch involved,'' Neville explained.

Harry's grip on the flashlight tightened. They'd better not shelve Severus' case. ''Do you think we could access Everly's and Williamson's notes on the cases?''

''Uh, I dunno... we'd have to break into the archive to find them,'' Neville said doubtfully.

Harry huffed tiredly. Why couldn't they keep notes with clues? He directed his light at another box and this time the light was reflected by something metallic. ''I think I've got it!'' the boy announced excitedly at first, but as soon as he got his hands on the box his stomach flipped at the sight of a knife covered in dried blood. There wasn't much more in the box – a piece of something that most likely was a cloth dyed in blood. A piece of Severus' robe probably. This wasn't enough to find the attacker!

Having taken pictures, the boys headed for the exit. Harry knocked on the door, letting Ron know they had finished. The door opened, but it would seem that no one walked in.

''Give me the cloak,'' Harry requested when the door was closed again.

''What took you so long?'' Ron asked annoyed, taking the cloak off and handing it to its owner.

''It's pretty hard to find the right box, when you don't know the case number,'' Neville pointed out.

''I'll be lucky if O'Doherty doesn't start interrogating me. I wish she was as laid back as Proudfoot,'' Ron sighed tiredly. ''Gotta go. See you tomorrow,'' Ron waved and left.

''See you,'' two other boys waved back.

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak around them and they carefully walked out of the storageroom. ''So where the archive? What? It's only my fourth week of the training,'' he added in self-defence.

''I'm starting to have second thoughts about this, Harry,'' Neville whispered.

''Too late for that,'' Harry smirked mischievously. He had missed shenanigans with his friends.

Neville nodded insecurily, being in no position to argue, having broken into the storageroom and taken pictures of restricted evidence.

Looking for files had been easier as this time they had case numbers. Harry was dutifully taking pictures of O'Doherty's notes from her time at the scene and from Williamson's investigation as well as the pictures of the scene... which again made Harry want to vomit. There was so much blood in the pictures, but at least Severus wasn't present in them, which could not be said for Macnair, whose body had been well documented in the files. Meanwhile Neville was taking pictures of muggle police officers' notes and Everly's notes on Macnair's stabbing.

Harry glanced at his watch, surprised how much time it had taken them – almost two hours! Neville didn't look too pleased with this fact either. They hid all their pictures in their bags and quietly left the archive and then the Ministry as if they had never been there in that evening.

Back at home Harry laughed at their little break-in. It felt great to be alive.

Chapter Text

On the day after the break-in the Hogwarts graduatees met again at 12 Grimmauld Place to discuss the results of the previous day's escapade. Hermione was pinning photographs of knives and notes to the board, next to the pages of the article titled 'Mysterious DEath in Italy' taken from the March issue of the Quibbler.

Over the night Harry had been reading O'Doherty's notes over and over again, and by now he knew them by heart. He had read the words written in not too neat writing, saying 'Time of arrival: 7:17 P.M. Place: 37 Knockturn Alley A man found lying on the ground face-down with a knife in his back, between the shoulder blades. The man recognised to be Severus Snape. The man gives no signs of life. Immediate start of medical help. 7:18: emergency healer arrives at the scene, medical help carried on. 7:25: Victim declared dead. 7:28: the man wakes up, he is conscious and aware of his surroundings, does not name the attacker. 7:30: the man moved to St. Mungo's' and tried to make sense of them. Harry had stared for hours at the struck out words, having wished for them to disappear completely. There must have been some kind of masochism in having spent the night reading the note as its contents made Harry nauseous. The awareness that Severus had been lying seemingly lifeless for minutes and dying was eating him. Why they had been so quick to declare Severus dead? It hadn't been even ten minutes! Shouldn't they have tried harder to help him?

Truth be told, at the time of attack Harry had lost sense of time, having been consumed by the feeling he had not been able to name at the time. Had the moment when the feeling calmed down a bit been the moment when Severus had woken up? The matter once again begged a question why Harry had not experienced anything similar before, even though Severus had got hurt between the spell and the attack. Sure, Harry had felt some strange, difficult to describe feeling having been cured by Severus, but it was nothing like what he had felt in connection to the stabbing. Which meant it was most likely Harry's own feeling about his recovery, didn't it?

''Thanks to you guys I'm having another duty next week. O'Doherty thinks I spent too much time outside her office,'' Ron huffed, interrupting Harry's musings.

''Oh, stop nagging. Be grateful none of you got caught! It's a shame we can't take fingerprints from the knives,'' said Hermione. ''These are muggle-style crimes. Maybe muggle technology would be more effective... but we would also need fingerprints of the attacker to match them,'' she added slightly disappointed. ''However, I have a theory,'' she announced. ''The attacker wants to humiliate their victims.''

''How so?'' Neville narrowed his eyes at the clues on the board.

''The attacker uses muggle methods. They even use muggle objects – this is an IKEA knife!'' Hermione tapped her finger against a picture.

''What eyes and keys have to do with muggle knives? Are they used in production?'' Ron wrinkled up his nose.

Hermione stared at her boyfriend dumbstruck. ''What?'

''It's a brand name,'' Harry explained tiredly. Great, so his dad was stabbed with an IKEA knife. Harry had not noticed that, not having looked at the pictures of the knife again – unlike the notes, it was too much for him to stomach. ''It's like George opened another shop in different place, but under the same name.''

''Ah, I see. Maybe the attacker wants to put the blame on muggles?'' Ron suggested.

''It could've worked for Macnair and Travers, but not for Snape,'' Ginny pointed out.

''But what if they wanted to show that muggles found their way to the Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley and are attacking wizards? Y'know, start a bit of anti-muggle panic,'' Ron opted to defend his idea.

Ginny scoffed. ''Well, if that's what they wanted, it didn't work out – no one's writing about muggles being spotted in wizarding places.''

Hermione rubbed her forehead. ''My point is, the attacker uses muggle methods because Death Eaters think them inferior. Therefore, being killed the muggle way would be a sign of disrespect and humiliation.''

''Which would also mean that the attacker is familiar with the muggle world,'' Neville said, biting his finger, having got lost in thoughts. ''So they are either first generation half-blood or muggleborn.''

''Or a pure-blood married to a muggle,'' Luna chimed in.

''That doesn't narrow the list of our potential suspects that much,'' Harry noted sourly.

In the late afternoon Harry went to see Severus in his home. Having stepped out of the fireplace and not spotted the Slytherin in the living room or in the kitchen Harry walked upstairs and entered the laboratory.

''Harry, it's nice to see you,'' Severus raised his gaze from the cauldron to his son.

''Uh, hi, Severus. Are you busy?'' Harry asked, wondering if he had chosen a wrong moment for a visit.

Severus waved his wand, putting the cauldron in stasis. ''Not really.''

''So... Everything's fine?'' Harry's eyes studied the man.

Severus exhaled slowly. ''Yes, Harry. Just like it was yesterday and every other day you have inquired after my health.''

''And there you go again,'' Harry huffed.

''Care to elaborate?'' Severus quirked an eyebrow.

Harry groaned. His father was utterly annoying at times. ''You're downplaying what's happened! You keep on living as if nothing happened. You go to your shop and you're running your business like that person isn't going to try again. And you know they are!'' Harry animatedly waved his arm. ''And you won't be able to do anything about it like you couldn't the first time! You won't even notice that person coming!''

Severus crossed his arms. ''And what do you propose that I do about it? Should I hide away in my home and wait for the perpetrator to be caught?''

''Yes!'' Harry exclaimed in a slightly high-pitched voice. Why Severus deemed it to be such a ridiculous idea? ''That's what you told Draco to do! Why are you so... ugh!'' he clenched his fists in frustration. ''How can you be so indifferent if you live or not?''

''I assure you I am not indifferent,'' Severus replied calmly.

''Are you?'' Harry sneered. ''Because you're walking around basically with a target on your back, you know? It's like you're seeking death! And it's not just now, it happens all the time – the ambush, the spell, hell, even the war!'' the Gryffindor did not even notice when his body started shaking with anger.

''Ah, so that is what got you so upset,'' Severus said with a grimace upon his face that Harry had learnt to recognise as a smirk. ''I see the connection is still bothering you. I am neither suprised nor offended – you have the right to feel disgusted by it.''

Shit, he might have said too much, but what was he supposed to say when Severus was acting as if he was looking for death... like he was trying to leave Harry like every other important adult in his life had? ''Don't twist my words, I'm not disgusted!'' he turned his face away. Part of him wanted to argue further, but another part saw how fruitless it would be.

Severus observed him for a moment. ''Close your eyes, Harry,'' he asked.

Harry glared at the other wizard. ''What for?''

''Humour me this once,'' Severus pressed.

Harry tiredly shook his head, but obliged the former spy nevertheless. Then he felt a slight tingle in his left palm. He curled his fingers and peeked at his hand, noticing nothing out of ordinary. In the corner of his vision he spotted something red and his gaze wandered there. ''Are you nuts?!'' the boy yelled, seeing Severus' left palm with a cut across it. ''Did you just cut yourself?!''

''You were supposed not to look,'' Severus reminded harshly as he was closing the wound. ''Should I take it that you felt it, then?''

Harry looked once more at his left hand and then at his father. The tingling in his hand stopped when Severus healed the cut. If not for the question, he would have never drawn connection between the feeling in his hand and the cut on Severus' hand. The feeling... it did not feel urging, important or demanding attention. Not in the way the stab wound had felt. The stabbing had been all-consuming, screaming and overwhelming, and this... this might have been a brief contact with a hot cauldron at most, maybe not even that. He nodded hesitantly.

''I was hoping that Occlumency would help with this bond, but apparently it does not diminish its strength. Either that, or it is the recipient who should be Occluding, not the source,'' Severus analysed the outcome of the experiment, ignorant to Harry's shock.

''I'm-I'm not learning Occlumency!'' Harry protested somewhat offended, forcing his mind to keep up with the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting to the feeling he had experienced a moment ago. ''You know I'm hopeless at it!''

''You are not hopeless. As much as your stubbornness can be irritating, in this case it is your asset. You were able to resist the Imperius curse, which is a greater feat than learning Occlumency. I see no reason why you would not be able to learn it... aside from your inaction. Don't give me that look, Harry,'' Severus added slightly amused at the indignant look on the boy's face. ''Be honest – not with me, because I know the truth, but with yourself – have you dedicated your time to learning Occlumency like I had asked you during our pitiful lessons?''

''We have agreed that it'd be better if you stopped being my teacher,'' Harry reminded grumpily. He did not like being exposed like that. ''Besides, you don't think I'd try to Occlude if I felt you getting hurt, do you? You know I'd try to help you, right?''

Harry had a feeling Severus was missing his point on purpose – how could he not see Harry's objection had not as much to do with the connection itself, unsettling as it was, as it had to do with fear for Severus' soul? One of most cunning wizard's could not be, to use one of Severus' favourite terms, so dense. Maybe it was the time to reveal what Harry should have told Severus the very moment he had learnt of Severus' deed. Perhaps Severus would finally understand what he was risking if Harry told him about the Voldemort-baby in the place between life and death. Maybe it would convince Severus not to condemn himself to eternal damnation. Harry knew he should do everything in his power to make the Slytherin undo the spell while there was still time.

And yet he could already see it: Severus flaring with anger the moment he learnt Harry had died. Or half died...? Almost died...? Harry wasn't sure how to call that experience, but he knew exactly how Severus was going to react. And Severus would not let him forget about his anger – not tomorrow, not next year or, most likely, not in the nearest years to come.

''Yes, I figured that much. However, I am trying to find a way of making this connection less bothersome to you,'' Severus replied.

A thought appeared in Harry's mind: what if the feeling he received through the bond and its strength depended on the gravity of the injury? What if the strange feeling he had had in his recovery had been a reflection of Severus' illness following his soul having been split? The pictures of the knife covered in blood, O'Doherty's notes and the nurse telling Harry the healer had thought Severus to be dead appeared all at once in Harry's mind. The soul-manipulating spell had not been a horcrux-making spell, Severus had assured Harry of that, but...

Harry looked at his dad and suddenly it was all too much.

---

Severus' eyes met Harry's frightened ones and he watched the boy sprang out of the laboratory door. The Slytherin stood there for a moment, puzzled what he had done to make Harry act like that. Harry's dislike for Occlumency was no secret to him, but it was not enough to explain such a strong reaction. With a heavy sigh he quickly followed the boy downstairs.

''Harry!'' Severus called, slightly annoyed by the sudden outburst. ''Harry, what is the matter?'' he asked when he saw the boy pacing around the cramped living room with his arms wrapped around his torso.

The Gryffindor glanced in Severus' direction, but not at Severus himself and looked away just as quickly. There was something in Harry's eyes and Severus could not tell if it was more akin to fright, anger or hurt. The Slytherin was left clueless as to what he had done wrong this time. Had he said something that wounded his son? Severus had been trying to cut down on ridiculing remarks around the boy, but maybe he had accidentally opened some old scar without meaning to or realising it?

Severus partially wanted to leave Harry alone to his emotional tantrums which the former teacher usually failed to understand. Maybe it would not be a bad idea to let Harry calm down on his own and inquire after the boy's reaction once he was in a more talkative mood. However, Severus could not bear to see his child so distraught and apparently for no reason at all. There had been time, not so long ago, when he would have laughed at Harry's misery and Severus detested himself for it. For the cruelty he had exerted on the boy with such an ease. Was it the reason why Harry refused to meet Severus' eyes?

''Harry,'' Severus tried again, this time making an attempt at softening his voice. ''May we talk?''

For a moment it seemed that Harry was about to say something, most likely argue back, judging by his expression, but Harry only turned his back on Severus, hiding his face from the older wizard.

Severus moved a few paces closer to his son. ''Is it about the spell?'' he asked, even though he hated playing the game of guessing. ''Is it about... tomorrow?'' he asked carefully, knowing exactly what date was coming the next day.

Harry's lack of reaction left Severus with no hints. He briefly considered the possibility of Ms. Weasley having broken up with Harry, but it seemed highly unlikely that Ginevra Weasley would do such a thing. Merlin, it would be much easier if Harry stopped avoiding his gaze. Maybe if he looked into Harry's eyes, he would be able to guess what had made Harry so uptight or to get the boy to open up a little.

Severus put his hand on Harry's shoulder, hoping that it would prompt the boy to turn around. Alas, Harry forcefully shrugged Severus' hand off.

Harry's refusal to acknowledge Severus' attempts at helping him started to irritate the Slytherin. He walked around the teenager, and they would have stood face-to-face if not for Harry looking down at his shoes. ''Harry, look at me,'' he demanded. ''Tell me what is wr-''

Severus did not get the change to finish the sentence as out of sudden Harry threw his arms around his father and started sobbing into his shoulder. It would seem that something broke within the boy and Severus did not know why. At first the ex-spy stood there frozen in shock just like he had the first time, however, this time his mind caught up quickly enough for him to wrap his arms around his son before Harry withdrew. The Gryffindor's current behaviour left Severus at loss as much as the outburst had. He felt as if he was wandering around an unknown territory without a map and every step could lead into a trap. ''Harry...'' the softness of his own voice startled him. Now more than ever he was aware that he was holding in his arms a child, a scared, hurt child. His child. ''Child...'' Some instinct he had not been aware he possessed until now told him to slowly rub circles around Harry's back. ''You can tell me, whatever it is,'' he said as he felt Harry shaking with sobs in his arms.

Harry's breath hitched. ''You're- only- here-, because of- the spell-!'' he said at last, squeezing Severus tighter.

''Harry...'' Severus sighed in defeat.

Perhaps Severus should have told his son that he had visited the place in between too, maybe Harry would have reacted differently having heard it from Severus, but now it was too late. A familiar knot of guilt formed in his stomach and Severus felt utterly, terribly selfish for nearly having choosen to move on.

The Slytherin gently pulled the boy closer and his right hand travelled up to softly brush the boy's hair, while the left one kept rubbing circles. ''It's alright. It's alright now,'' he whispered. He felt out of place, never having considered that the matter of his well-being could have prompted such a response from anyone.

Two wizards stood like that for a while, until Severus decided Harry had calmed down enough to break the touch.

Severus cleared his throat, dragged far away from his comfort zone with the situation at hand. ''Why don't you take a sit?''

Harry looked up without raising his head and quietly sat down on the couch, picking at the skin around his nails.

''Are you in need of a Calming Draught?'' Severus asked, awkwardly towering over the teenager.

''Thanks, I'm good,'' Harry said meekly as he stared at his shoes.

Severus turned around and headed for the kitchen. He put two teaspoons of dried herbs into a tea strainer. Having placed the tea strainer into a cup, he poured hot water into the cup and stirred the strainer two times.

''I believe this should help,'' Severus said, presenting the cup to Harry. ''I advise care as it is still hot.''

''Really, Severus, I'm fine. I don't need a Calming Draught,'' Harry said tiredly, still refusing to look at the older wizard, but now probably more out of embarrassment than anything else.

''It's melissa,'' Severus corrected the boy, wondering where the child got an idea that the Calming Draught required heating. ''It is not as potent as the Calming Draught, but it should help you relief the stress. It still needs to brew for ten minutes.''

Harry nervously tapped his foot against the floor, before finally accepting the cup with a muttered thanks. Severus gingerly lowered himself onto the couch, leaving a measured distance between them in respect for Harry's personal space. He did not know what to say to the boy or whether saying anything at all might do more good than harm. The air felt thick with suppressed feelings, old scars and unspoken words as though a single misplaced word was enough to set it alight.

Harry drummed his nails against the cup, his foot still nervously tapping. ''Sorry about the, uhm,'' he said awkwardly.

''There is no need to apologise, Harry,'' Severus replied and he had a feeling he should have said something more, something along the lines of 'I should have told you', but he could not bring himself to it.

Harry hummed non-committally in response and Severus opted to simply observe the boy... his child, who had made Severus experience affection he had not thought himself capable of. Severus could not pinpoint the moment it had begun, only that it had crept up on him unannounced. A year ago, he would have laughed at the notion that he might care so deeply for anyone at all, least of all The-Boy-Who-Lived. The irony of having been already aware of their blood ties at that time was not lost on him, just as the irony of his son being at the same time James Potter's son was not, but for the first time the universe' sense of humour did not bother him.

As he watched his child, the feeling in his chest started to threaten to either suffocate him or rip him into pieces if he still kept denying its way up his tongue. If there was a reason for his survival, the first or the second one, it might have been exactly this moment. Harry deserved to hear it, but as Severus tried to open up his mouth, it suddenly went dry. A lump in his throat blocked the way, preventing the words from forming. He was broken, he knew that – he should not have problems saying the words normal people told their loved ones on daily basis. The words he could not recall ever speaking in his life, not to his mother, not to Lily... maybe he had said them to the latter in some memory now lost to him. Harry and Minerva had been right – he truly was a coward.

Severus had an intent of placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, hoping that having the boy's attention would make the task easier, but withdrew his hand as quickly as he raised it, remembering the rejection.

''Harry,'' Severus called softly, yet firmly enough to voice the plea. If he ever got around saying those words aloud, it would only do if he looked into his son's eyes. He needed Harry to see he was sincere.

Harry turned his head and Severus felt like a deer caught in the headlights of Lily's eyes when Harry's eyes filled with concoction of poorly concealed sorrow and embarrassment met Severus' own. Then a spike of panic followed that if he did not act quick enough, Harry was going to look away again and he was going to lose his chance.

''I love you, son,'' Severus said at last and his voice was weaker than he'd like to and he felt defeated and it felt exhilarating, and it felt frightful, and it loosened the knot in his stomach only to tie it closer to his heart.

Severus' instinct did not deceive him for Harry quickly turned his face away to forcefully stare into the mug in his hands. The Gryffindor's mouth slightly moved without producing any sounds and Severus could easily see how conflicted the boy was. Severus chose not to press him, content instead to observe the boy, giving him the time to digest, although he refused to admit he was worried about Harry's verdict.

Harry blew into the herbal brew and took a small sip, checking if it was already safe to drink. Then he lowered the mug to his knees and drummed his fingers against it, boring his eyes into the liquid.

''Severus?'' minutes passed before Harry finally acknowledged the older wizard's presence. ''Can I-May I-?'' he stuttered slightly, insecurity clear in his voice. Severus did not correct his child nor hurry him to get off his chest whatever was troubling him right now. Harry took a deep breath. ''Would it be OK if I called you dad?'' he asked in one go.

Severus blinked as a bolt of shock ran down his spine, tickling his guts.

''Nevermind, forget I said anything...'' Harry mumbled abashedly, taking Severus' silence for a denial. He looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch.

Severus hated to see Harry's shoulders slumping in disappointment. ''I would be most flattered,'' he said, feeling the corners of his lips moving up like they had not in ages.

''Really?'' Harry sharply turned his head to face his father and his eyes shone so brightly as Lily's had had when she had been radiating happiness.

Severus let out a stiffled chuckle. ''Really, Harry.''

''Cool!'' Harry smiled in a child-like joy.

Severus was emotionally spent, but the effort was worth all the fright and anxiety. Adrenaline dropping made it difficult to think as clearly as he prided himself in, so he opted to enjoy his son's company in silence. He had not been this at peace in years, if ever.

Harry drummed against the cup again and took another sip of melissa. ''Uh, so, um, dad?'' he spoke after a moment of silence and it would appear he was trying to word to see how it tasted.

''Yes?'' Severus replied with a gentle, almost shy smile on his face.

''There's, um, something I need to tell you,'' Harry said, looking into the cup again. ''Look, maybe the spell isn't all that bad – it saved your life. But if it hadn't worked that way... There would be no way to mend your soul and you'd be doomed! I, ah,'' the boy clinked his nails on the cup. His mind was clearly troubled.

''Harry, I am afraid there might be some sort of misunderstanding. I have not cast a horcrux-creating spell,'' Severus had a feeling where the conversation was heading.

''I know, Se-uh, dad! You've said that already,'' Harry huffed. ''But if not for the spell, you'd be dead! I... I felt that!'' he said desperately. ''Maybe it works similarly to horcruxes. I mean, I know it's a different spell, but maybe it makes people immune to death too?'' he elaborated.

''No,'' Severus said firmly. ''It did not prevent me from dying per se. I was merely given a choice,'' he confessed, seeing no point in hiding the truth from Harry when he had already figured out the majority of it.

Harry's face went ashen as he gawked at his dad. Severus had thought that piece of information would ease Harry's mind a little, but it did not seem to be the case. ''That's what I tried to tell you...'' the Gryffindor said quietly. ''I was there too.''

''I know, child,'' Severus admitted as sorrow and guilt gripped at his stomach. There was no denying it – he had sent his child to die. He had betrayed Lily, because Dumbledore had told him there was no other choice. The action had not been any better than relying the prophecy.

Harry let out a shaky exhale. ''When I was there, there was a gruesome baby. Crying, abandoned for the rest of eternity... it was Voldemort, his horcrux. The same thing will happen to you if you don't undo the spell!'' he said with a broken voice.

''It is not a horcrux,'' Severus reminded once more.

''It might be not, but the fact is you've split your soul!'' Harry pressed. ''You've got to take it back!''

Severus dug his fingers into his palms. ''You spoke of regret and remorse as a requirement to undo a soul-splitting spell,'' he reminded. ''If I understood correctly, I do not meet the criteria to make my soul whole again – I do not regret saving your life, Harry.''

''Uh...'' Harry hesitated. ''But you said you wished there was an another way, so you regret casting the spell. Shouldn't this suffice?''

''Have you given any thought to the possibility of the curse returning?'' Severus said harshly. ''I am not certain if I will be able to cast the spell again should the curse return. I am not risking your life ever again,'' he said firmly, wishing for his son to drop the subject. ''Moreover, it is plausible that the piece of my soul will not be doomed to meet the fate of the Dark Lord's horcruxes. Unlike horcruxes, the spell did not prevent me from moving on, so it remains uncertain what fate awaits my soul,'' he reasoned aloud, more for Harry's peace of mind than his own. If his damnation guaranteed his child's safety, so be it. ''Furthermore, the piece of my soul is going to end up there only if you die. Which I sincerely hope is not going to happen any time before your one hundred and twentieth birthday, Harry,'' he added, looking into his son's eyes.

''Daaad,'' Harry groaned embarrassedly and though it was not the most polite usage of the word, it unimaginably warmed Severus' chest. ''And what would have happened to your soul if you chose to move on?'' the boy asked carefully.

''I don't know,'' Severus replied simply. Truthfully, he hadn't really spared a thought to the matter – neither in the place in between, nor having returned to the world of living. Secrets of the Darkest Art did not tackle the subject, either. ''Let's not talk about the matter anymore.''

''How it looked like to you?'' Harry asked out of sudden, quirking his head curiously.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows. Only after a second or two passed he understood what Harry asked about. ''Cokeworth's riverside.''

''Oh, interesting! I saw King's Cross Station,'' Harry said with a peculiar joy sparkling in his eyes.

It crossed Severus' mind that he might be the first person with whom Harry was sharing the story. ''King's Cross?'' he scoffed.

''What's so funny about it?'' the boy narrowed his eyes.

''Nothing at all. It just struck me as an odd place of choice,'' Severus replied with a small smirk on his face.

''I didn't choose it! Like yours is any better,'' Harry huffed theatrically.

The Slytherin slightly shook his head in amusement. In the end, he knew he had made the right choice. ''No, it certainly is not.''

Chapter Text

Severus kept watching the fireplace for a good minute or two after Harry's departure. His chest was swelling with a warm feeling not so long ago unfamiliar to him. 'Dad', his son chose to call him 'dad'. Severus was not exactly sure how he got there, having a feeling that against his best intentions he had been doing more to push Harry away than to keep him close. He kept hurting his son without meaning to and yet he was met with acceptance... it almost felt like a miracle and miracles were not something that happened to Severus Snape.

The more bitter part of his psyche reminded him that he should not be as surprised, considering Harry's slip of tongue following the attack.

Having decided he needed some more constructive occupation to keep unwelcomed thoughts at bay, Severus Accio'ed his notes, quill and ink and sat down in his favourite armchair. He went through the recipe for the potion that erased the memories of his affair with Lily, written down on a parchment. Up until lately, he had not pursued his lost memories. At first he had told himself that there was no point in trying to get them back as he was not going to form any kind of bond with his son, so it was better to leave the memories in their righful place in oblivion. Then, inspite of his endeavours, he had got attached to the child, so he had hidden behind an excuse that Harry was never going to find out the truth anyway, and thus it was better to pretend it had never happened. Of course he had underestimated his child in that regard, but Severus had been a step ahead, having found another excuse in ephemerality of the newly formed bond. Against any better judgement Harry had stuck around and Lily had given him the recipe, making Severus run out of excuses.

And why shouldn't he? He did not have to hide the truth from Harry anymore. The memories were going to hurt, he knew that, but he also remembered the bittersweet sense of closure that had followed when they had temporarily returned to him in the place between life and death. There had been pain in it, yes, but there had also been a conclusion. He knew Lily wanted that closure for him. Perhaps, if he allowed those fragments of his past to settle where they belonged, if he finally closed the chapters that had lingered open for far too long, things between him and Harry might not feel so strained.

According to Lily, they had started with the Forgetfulness Potion and then enriched it by adding asphodel flowers, a piece of cork, his saliva and her saliva. Those were a bunch of rather uncommon ingredients, so he would need to resort to the Golpalott's Second Law, he thought, tapping his quill against the parchment. Asphodel flowers were rarely used as a potion ingredient, the plant's root being much more commonly used. Severus wondered if the flowers had been added to the mix more for their symbolism and connection to Lily's name rather than for anything else. Maybe Lily had figured out it was Severus' favourite flower? Had she known it made him think of her?

Severus divided the recipe at the top of the parchment from the lower part of the parchment with a swift line drawn across it. In the lower part he wrote down ingredients for the Forgetfulness potion antidote. Now he only needed to identify the rest of ingredients, he grimaced. Generations of young witches and wizards that he had tought had been complaining about the difficulty of the Golpalott's laws, when they were tasked with coming up with recipes for rather basic antidotes. He would love to see their faces if they had to find a counteragent to saliva of a person who was dead for eighteen years.

Severus went once more through the additional ingredients to the basic Forgetfulness Potion and added Ashwinder eggs to the antidote ingredients list, having decided they would serve as the best counteragent to the flower.

Next thing on the ingredients list for the enhanced Forgetfulness Potion was the piece of cork that Lily had bought when she had met him as he had worked in a potions store following their graduation. This item most likely was meant to define the time frame covered by the potion, Severus mused. The wizard gritted his teeth, trying to think of anything that would counter this property. The best option would be adding to the potion something from the time of his affair with Lily, but as far as he knew himself, he had got rid of anything that could uncover the romance before drinking the potion that made him forget it. Lily most likely had done it too, and even if she had not, the majority of her possessions went gone following her demise.

Severus barely owned anything to remind him of Lily... save for her signature and her picture torn from a Potter family photograph. He looked away from his notes, feeling slightly ashamed for having surreptitiously taken what rightfully belonged to Harry. His sight skimmed across the clock's face and his stomach dropped as he registered it was already past midnight, changing the date to that dreadful day.

Severus set his notes and quill aside and headed for his bedroom, overcome with need to see her face. Not that he needed to see the picture to recall every little detail of her face, needing only to close his eyes to do that.

Having reached the bedroom, he opened a hidden storage at the bottom of the wardrobe and took out the half of the picture and the page of Lily's letter to the mutt bearing her signature. His fingertips gently slid down the picture, barely touching her frame.

''Our son has grown into a wonderful young man,'' Severus said softly to the picture as he sat down at the edge of his bed. ''I wish you were here to see it. You'd be proud, Harry's a good kid, even if annoying at times. His ability to forgive astonishes me,'' he noted wistfully, wishing he had said more to Lily when they had met in the place between life and death. There was so much to be told and he had no idea how long he'd have to wait to say these things to directly to her. ''Harry wants to call me 'dad'. Won't you congratulate me on that?'' he asked even though he knew he would be receiving no answer.

A drop fell from his chin, luckily not on the picture. Severus forcefully rubbed a wet trail away from his cheek, frowning at himself for such an emotional reaction.

He looked once more at the picture he had torn from the family photograph... he truly had no right to tear Lily away from her son... their son, even if he loathed James Potter. Harry most likely had only few mementos of his mother and Severus selfishly destroyed the picture, having taken half of it away.

''I think I ought to return you to our son, wouldn't you agree, Lily?'' he asked, wondering if Harry was still awake. There was a non-zero chance the child would have troubles sleeping that night, but ultimately Severus decided against reaching Harry in the middle of the night. It could wait until morning. However, a seed of doubt sprouted in his mind, questioning if sleeping on the idea of calling Severus 'dad' was going to change Harry's mind. He scoffed at himself, rebuking himself for undermining every joy in his life, however big or small.

Instead Severus looked at the page with Lily's signature. He should return it to Harry as well, but he hated the idea of parting his ways with the words reading Lots of love, Lily, even though they weren't meant for him at the time when they had been written down. Then his eyes widened as an idea struck him... what if Lily's love was one of counteragents to the enhanced Forgetfulness Potion?

---

Harry had spent the most of the night rolling from his one side to the other. This time, however, troubles with sleeping had a different cause from the ones of the previous week. The words 'I love you, son' kept playing in his mind on repeat like a scratched record and it wasn't a bad thing at all. Those words, the words he had wished to hear ever since he had been old enough to wish such a thing, filled his chest with such a wonderful, pure happiness he had experienced in his life maybe a handful of times and made him hide his face in his pillow as he was grinning widely. It was embarrassing, really. Normal people didn't make such a big deal of their parents telling them they love them. Should he have told Severus – uh, his dad, that is – that he loved him too? Shoot, he should have, he was so embarrasing for not having thought about it. It felt like a right thing to say... but something inside Harry was not so sold on the idea... and Seve-his dad did not seem to mind the omission on Harry's part.

Harry rolled to his other side and looked out of the window. Now that he thought about it, it felt rather bittersweet that of all moments, he had been given permission to call his biological father 'dad' on the eve of the day that marked his parents' death.

The boy grumbled and rolled once more to another side, wishing for sleep to come. He was going to be so sleepy in the morning and he did not want to keep yawning by his parents' grave.

Next thing Harry knew, he rubbed his eyes, noticing it was already bright. He put on his glasses and checked time happily noting that he had managed to get some sleep after all.

He walked downstairs for a breakfast and having finished it, he unrushedly started getting ready for the rest of the day. Just as he was magically shaving his face, Kreacher knocked on the bathroom door.

''Master, Kreacher apologises for interrupting his Master, but master Severus wishes to speak to you,'' the house elf said apologetically.

Severus? Harry furrowed his eyebrows and scolded himself for thinking of the man by his first name. Hadn't he asked Severus, uhm, his dad for permission? Wasn't it disrespectful to call him by his name, when the man had agreed to being called 'dad'? ''In a minute!'' Harry called and quickly finished shaving.

Heading for the fireplace he wondered if there was something his dad wanted from him on Sunday morning. His stomach churned as an unhelpful thought suggested that upon deliberation Severus had decided against being referred to by 'dad'.

''Uh, morning, dad,'' Harry greeted the man, whose face was present among the embers.

''Good morning, Harry,'' Severus... damn it – dad, said a bit nastily. ''Care to explain what is that thing?'' he asked sharply, looking at something behind Harry.

The Gryffindor followed his dad's line of sight to the board riddled with clues concerning the assailant. He should have hidden the board, instead of leaving it in the middle of the room in the plain sight, he realised. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't working quickly enough to come up with a viable excuse yet.

The Slytherin took his son's silence as an invitation to go on his tirade. ''You were supposed to stay away from it!''

''Dad,'' Harry rolled his eyes tiredly, getting acquaintanced not only with the ups but also with the downs of having a parent.

''What, Harry? Are you going to tell me you were assigned the case?'' the boy's dad pressed, pointedly raising an eyebrow. ''No? I thought so,'' he added silkily. ''How many times do I need to tell you to stay out of the case? Should I ask how you came into possession of the evidence?''

Had Harry been met with this kind of questions by Severus Snape when the man had been Harry's teacher, he would have challenged the man with one of his most vicious stares. However, Harry currently was interrogated by his dad and it made giving him fiery stares much more difficult, so the boy looked down at his feet instead.

''Have you got any idea what you are risking? It is violation of all the rules! You will be immediately removed from the training if anyone hears about it!'' Severus continued.

''Then don't tell anyone,'' Harry said flatly, like it was the most obvious solution.

''Harry!''

Harry angrily clenched his fists and looked at his dad. He'd rather get sacked from the training a thousand times than lose another parent. But if his dad didn't get it, Harry wasn't going to tell him he was doing it for his sake. ''Well, if I'm fired you should be glad! You didn't want me to enrol the training!''

The former spy's expression was bewildered. ''I am serious, Harry! This is not Hogwarts anymore. You are going to ruin your future!''

''I've already had my disciplinary hearing in Hogwarts, remember?'' Harry reminded tiredly.

''Harry, I'm beginning to think you are not fully grasping the possible consequences,'' Severus said like his patience was running out. ''Do you truly want to lay to waste all the hard work you put into getting accepted into the training?''

''And what is it to you?'' Harry huffed.

Severus gave his son an unamused look as if he wanted to ask if it was all Harry was capable of coming up with. ''I think I've made it clear what is it to me, Harry.''

''Did you want to talk to me to keep nagging or...?'' Harry asked, tired of the conversation.

Severus sighed. ''I would appreciate it if you didn't change the subject. However, you are correct, I wanted to talk for a different reason.'' The man's face in the fireplace was joined by his hand. ''I wanted to return your mother's picture to you. Reparo should mend the photograph,'' he noted a bit stiffly.

Harry took the picture from his dad's hand without even thinking about it. He looked at his mum's face in the picture and then at his dad in the fireplace. ''Are you sure about it?'' he asked uncertainly, feeling a bit insensitive for having so quickly snatched the picture from the man's hand. Harry had his parents' picture, but he wasn't sure if his dad had any other pictures of Lily. ''Don't you want to keep it?''

''Take it. It's yours, Harry,'' the Slytherin's eyes gained a slightly softer shape.

''Thanks, dad,'' Harry smiled and at the end of his tongue started forming an invitation to join him on his visit to his parents' grave. However, the words died out as soon as Harry recalled that the last time Severus had turned down such an invitation. Besides, it would be awkward to go both with Ginny and with his dad, he mused.

''And how are you?'' Severus asked after a moment, clearly still struggling in this new role, which Harry found oddly comforting that he wasn't the only one still somewhat confused about the situation.

''Good,'' Harry nodded, knowing well what his dad had in mind. ''And you?''

''Adequate.''

''Uh, so...'' Harry glanced at the half of the picture in his hand. ''Thanks again. Talk to you later, alright?''

''Naturally. Just don't forget I've got classes with Draco in an hour,'' Severus reminded.

''Chill, I know,'' Harry smirked thinking about Draco's face if he ever heard Harry calling Severus 'dad'.

''And Harry, I am serious about this thing,'' Severus glared at the board once more.

''I know, dad,'' Harry grumbled. ''You rarely aren't.''

After the conversation Harry returned to his room and opened the drawer where he kept the half of picture depicting tiny Harry on a toy broomstick next to James. He reached for it and his sight landed on his mum's letter to Sirius lying next to the photo. The Gryffindor felt greedy when he caught himself wishing that his dad had returned the missing page of his mum's letter as well. Who knew if Severus even owned anything else that reminded him of Lily?

Harry smiled at the picture and put the reclaimed part of the picture next to the rest of it. Then he grabbed his wand and cast Reparo, rejoining two halves of the photo. He smiled proudly at his work and started looking for a frame to put the picture in.

Around noon Ginny appeared in the Grimmauld Place' fireplace. The two had a lunch and afterwards they Apparated to Godric's Hollow. On their short trip to the cemetery they passed by kids and young teenagers getting ready for trick-or-treating, bringing a smile to Harry's face.

Ginny watched muggle kids dressed in what muggles thought to be witch clothes. ''Maybe we should've put our robes on? You know, to blend in better,'' she smirked.

Harry chuckled. ''I'm afraid we might be a little bit too old for that.''

They walked through the cemetery gate and stopped in front of the Potters' tombstone.

Harry knelt, putting down a bouquet of red roses. ''Hi, mum, dad,'' he smiled faintly, still wishing for them to be there. ''I wanted you to meet someone,'' he said standing up and waved his hand at the girl. ''This is Ginny, my girlfriend.''

''Uhm, hi,'' Ginny smiled awkwardly.

''Yeah... so, as you know, Ron – my best friend and Ginny's brother, and I got accepted into Auror Training Programme. It's been a month since classes started and well, I thought it would be like Hogwarts and in a way it is with lots of studying and written assignments, but minus all the fun parts,'' Harry felt he needed to give his parents an update on his life.

Ginny gave her boyfriend a curious glance. ''Minus all the fun parts?''

''Well, we've got more responsibilities, but don't get the dormitory shenanigans,'' Harry smirked mischievously.

''Ah,'' Ginny chuckled. ''But I wouldn't say our shenanigans are over,'' she eyed Harry knowingly.

Harry cleared his throat, recalling Severus scolding him for his mischief earlier that day. ''Teddy is already a year and half old and he's a little troublemaker. It's scary, really! Last time when I visited him, he nearly knocked out a big vase right onto his head! I don't know how Andromeda manages it. Uh, I've also got an update on the Severus situation... y'know, we talked yesterday and, uh, he let me call him 'dad','' Harry confessed, scratching his hand. While it felt great to share with others the news that brought him so much joy, he also felt a bit out of place. ''I hope you're not jealous, dad. You'll always be my dad, but Severus is too,'' he added, feeling that the news required an explanation.

''For real?! That's wonderful!'' Ginny grabbed Harry's hand with her eyes wide with shock. ''But pretty weird, though. After all these years we've called Snape 'greasy git' and 'dungeon bat', I've got a hard time imagining Snape getting called 'dad' and being OK with that... no offence.''

Harry snorted. ''I know, right?'' The boy looked at the tombstone again. ''So, yeah, things are looking up.''

''I know it may be a wrong place and time, but we're having a Halloween party in the evening in the Burrow,'' Ginny said once they left the cemetery. ''It's totally fine if you don't feel like it, considering the date,'' she quickly assured her boyfriend.

''Are you kidding? Of course I'm coming!'' Harry smiled at the redhead. He knew his parents would not want to keep him away from having fun with his friends, just because they happened to pass away on Halloween. And even though the thoughts of his parents always brought him some wistfulness, he didn't want to spend the day mourning their loss and he knew they wouldn't be offended.

Chapter Text

Harry got an awful feeling that his investigation concerning the attacker reached a dead end. The pictures the teenagers had collected didn't reveal much about the attacker's identity.

''Do you think the knives were transformed?'' Harry wondered when he and Ron caught Hermione and Neville during a break between training classes.

''It's likely. I've got a hard time imagining a witch or wizard walking into IKEA,'' Hermione mused.

''We kinda forgot about checking the magical trace in all that hurry. Uh, Savage would kill me if he heard about it,'' Neville cringed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. ''If he heard that you forgot about checking the magical trace or that you broke into the storeroom?'' Gosh, Harry hated that his bookworm friend sometimes sounded like his dad.

''Shh! Hermione!'' Ron warily eyed their surroundings, frightful of their conversation being accidentally overheard.

''Besides, if you had used your wands to check the magical trace, you'd have left your own trace too!'' Hermione reminded.

''Oh, right,'' Neville abashedly scratched the back of his neck.

''Damn it,'' Harry hissed. ''We'll have to do it again.''

Hermione gasped in outrage. ''Haven't you heard me? I really don't think it is a good idea.''

''Look, so far we didn't get any closer to finding the attacker. We should try,'' Harry argued.

''And when are we going to do that?'' Hermione frowned.

''Ron's got another duty this week,'' Harry shrugged.

''Only because O'Doherty got mad at me for staying for too long outside her office, which is your fault,'' Ron reminded harshly. ''I'm not getting another duty, do it during yours!''

''It was your idea the last time!'' Harry reminded his friend.

''And it turned out a bad idea,'' Ron scoffed. ''It feels like another detention and we're out of Hogwarts already.''

Harry sighed tiredly. ''But my duty's in three weeks. I can't wait that long!''

Hermione crossed her arms. ''Alright, let's say you walk in again and find some magical trace on the knives, which would mean they were tranformed. Does it bring you any closer to solving the case?''

Harry furrowed his forehead, looking for an answer. ''Weeell, if there's no magical trace it would mean they were bought in the muggle world, which would confirm the attacker is muggleborn. Uh, most likely,'' he said lamely. ''And if there's magical trace...'' Harry tried really hard to think of something that didn't make him sound like an idiot. It wasn't his fault they haven't covered it yet during the training. They had only started it a month ago!

''We could try matching the magical trace with our database... but it would most effective if that person had already used their wand to commit a crime and hasn't changed their wand – otherwise it's much more difficult connect the trace to the person,'' Neville said after a moment of deliberation.

''Mate!'' Ron huffed like the revelation was an act of betrayal.

''See!'' Harry said, waving his hand at Neville.

''But I agree with Hermione – it's risky and might not bring us any valuable information,'' Neville added hurriedly, squirming under the girl's glare.

Harry sneered. ''Thanks, guys. I'm glad I can count on you.''

''Harry, look... it's not that we're not supporting you, but maybe we can carry out the investigation in a less dangerous way?'' Hermione said in a conciliatory tone. ''Maybe try getting something out of Williamson or Everly?''

Harry felt rather offended his friends hadn't backed him up on his plan, so he avoided their company for the majority of the day as much as he could – which in Ron's case was difficult as the two shared classes. Therefore, after the classes he dropped in on Severus.

The bell chimed as Harry crossed the threshold of the shop, directing Severus' attention to the newcomer.

''Harry,'' Severus greeted the Gryffindor approaching him. ''I suppose you have not come here to buy a potion?''

''And what would I need to buy from you?'' Harry scrunched up his nose.

''Don't you require anything for your training?'' Severus asked pointedly.

''Potions are a second-year subject,'' Harry said flatly.

''Hm, a shame. It is not going to get me a good press that my most frequent visitor never purchases any of my potions,'' Severus deadpanned. ''And how is your training going? I hope my book is of use,'' he added more seriously.

''It's fine, I suppose,'' Harry shrugged non-commitally. ''Field Training's pretty fun.''

''Excuse me for a second,'' Severus said and left his spot behind the counter to help a wizard with his potion's choice.

Harry drummed his fingers on the counter, observing the shop. It wasn't very busy, most likely due to it being still a rather early afternoon, but it managed to attract a bunch of customers at such an unpopular hour.

Having finished the transaction with the customer, the Slytherin resumed the conversation. ''Should you need a bibliography for your assignments, you can borrow my books.''

''Are you going to ask after my grades now?'' Harry tiredly rolled his eyes.

''I think I've had enough of your grades through the years of your education,'' replied Severus. ''I was merely hoping that your training is going you keep occupied enough to keep you away from your foolish endeavours.''

''Dad,'' Harry huffed. The sharp twitch of the corners of his father's eyes did not escape his notice, among one or two curious glances from the customers. However, Harry chose not to think too much about it.

''I take it that you have thrown that board away, Harry?'' Severus raised an eyebrow.

''Yeah, yeah, you can drop it now,'' Harry said.

The look on Severus' face was something between irritation and amusement. ''And you are aware you are a terrible liar?''

''Why bother asking me if you know the answer?'' the Gryffindor was getting more and more annoyed with the conversation. Frankly, it felt like everyone joined their forces to be against Harry on that day. Couldn't they see he was trying to help, while Williamson was lazing about the case?

''I was hoping for more honesty on your side, Harry,'' Severus noted silkily. ''You know my opinion on the matter, but it is neither the time nor the place for this kind of discussion,'' he added a bit more harshly before leaving to help another customer out.

Harry managed to catch his tutor the next day, having come up with an idea for getting into the storeroom without raising any suspicions. He opted against sharing it with his friends, not wanting to hear them try once more to change Harry's mind.

''Ah, I recognise that hunger for more practical knowledge in your eyes, Potter,'' the Auror smiled knowingly, having noticed the teenager stalling around him. ''Do you have a moment to spare between your classes?''

''Sure,'' Harry said simply. He did not know how his tutor came up with the idea of labelling whatever he had seen in his eyes as hunger for knowledge... maybe he had mistaken the urge to find the assailant for it, but either way, it worked in Harry's favour.

''I normally would cover with you the practical side after your classes, but we've got a suspect who is going to throw a fit if we keep her in here a second longer than necessary,'' Proudfoot explained.

''Oh, another interrogation?'' Harry asked curiously. He would have lied if he denied enjoying interrogations. Watching suspects deny all claims and then have that minuscule tick that betrayed the lie was fascinating in a way. ''Maybe you need something? Like some evidence to show the suspect? Y'know, to get her reaction.''

Proudfoot chuckled jovially. ''You are going to make an amazing Auror one day. That's actually a good idea. I need the evidence file number Mds-1998/75. It is kept in the storeroom. Do you know where it is? First corridor on the left from my office and then the third door,'' luckily the Auror took Harry's hesitation for a 'no'.

On his way the the storeroom Harry wondered if his plan was going to work out so easily? Was he really going to walk into the storeroom without anyone batting an eyelid? Had he known it to be so simple, he and his friends could have gone for this route right from the beginning. It also probably explained why the Ministry had got so quickly infiltrated by the Death Eaters, he mused.

Having entered the storeroom Harry headed for the evidence concerning Severus' and Macnair's cases. He took out his wand and cast the magical trace revealing spell at the knife in Severus' box, ignoring a voice in his head, strangely alike to Hermione's, warning him of the risk of being caught. The spell didn't reveal anything, so he moved the Macnair's box, but this time it also seemed that Harry was looking at genuine muggle knives. So muggleborn attacker theory it was.

Then the Gryffindor moved to find the evidence he had been sent after, already imagining another tirade of his dad's on the matter. And Hermione's too. After a moment of walking through the maze of shelves Harry found the box marked Mds-1998/75. With the box in tow, he walked out of the storeroom.

''You took your time,'' Proudfoot noted, but without any malice in his voice.

''Yeah, well, I, uh, have never been there before. It's awfully messy in there and I couldn't find it,'' Harry cleared his throat, hoping he was not as bad at lying as his dad thought him to be.

''I agree, we could use a better organised storeroom, but don't worry, you'll eventually learn to navigate your way around it,'' Proudfoot said, getting up from his spot behind his desk. ''I hope you remember how the interrogation goes?''

''I sit and observe,'' Harry said.

''And?''

''Don't speak,'' Harry added reluctantly.

''That's correct. Don't worry, boy, in time I'll start teaching you how to talk to suspects and then you'll have your chance at talking,'' Proudfoot patted Harry's shoulder.

The two headed for the interrogation section. When they entered a room, Harry's eyes widened at the sight of their interrogatee. Was it Melinoe Crowdy, the deputy head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation? What was she accused of?

Harry put the box on the table and sat next to his tutor.

''Melinoe Crowdy, I really wish we met in better circumstances,'' the Auror greeted the witch. ''I think you know the reason behind this meeting?''

The witch nonchalantly crossed her legs. ''On the contrary, Proudfoot. Do enlighten me, please.''

With a sigh Proudfoot opened up a folder with his notes. ''You are suspected of allying yourself with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters during the second wizarding war.''

''Suspected of?'' Crowdy snorted indignantly. ''And in what way would I ally myself with them?''

Proudfoot had probably seen too many such confident interrogatees to be even bothered by Crowdy's indifference, feigned or not. ''About that...'' the Auror smugly took out a sheet of parchment from the folder and handed it to the woman. ''Now, how about you-''

''Ah-ah, not so fast, Proudfoot,'' the woman tutted. ''I have the right to familiarise myself with the charges.''

Harry watched the woman slowly go through the document. She was likely stalling for time, though what she hoped to gain from it, he could not guess. Good grief, she was taking an age. Maybe she wanted to annoy Proudfoot? In the handful of interrogations Harry had taken part in, most suspects had already started denying everything by this point.

Once she was done, Crowdy put the parchment on the desk between her and Proudfoot, chuckling drily. ''You've got nothing on me.''

''We will see about that. Barty Crouch Sr. appointed you a head of International Magical Office of Law-''

''If you want to ask me about his son, I knew nothing about his escape. I thought he had died many years ago, like everyone else,'' the witch said.

''We're not here because of Barty Junior's escape. That case was solved some four years ago and you know that,'' Proudfoot said tiredly. ''The question at hand is why have you maintained your position under Death Eaters' rule?''

''It's not like Death Eaters got rid of all the clerks when they took over the Ministry,'' Crowdy scoffed.

''True, but you were not some low-level clerk, but the head of a crucial office. It would be very unwise of Lord Voldemort not to install one of his people in your seat, don't you think?'' Proudfoot pointedly raised an eyebrow.

''Is that all? Some assumptions? Truly, I had expected better of the Auror Department than wasting my time.''

''Yes, that would be very unfortunate,'' the Auror said, already taking out another parchment from his folder. He placed it in front of the witch. ''Is that your signature on the document?''

The woman crossed her arms. ''It appears to be.''

''This document was delievered to foreign ministries of magic during Death Eaters' rule. It encourages the promotion of blood supremacy in other countries and proposes a coalition for blood supremacy, among them creation of a body for prevention of mixed-blood marriages and marriages between wixen and muggles on international level. There are also some interesting notes about muggles and their place. And you signed it,'' Proudfoot pressed.

''I was merely doing what I was told. Disobedience could have been met with much more dire consequences than being laid off and you are aware of that,'' Crowdy pointed out with a cold glint in her eyes.

''And you were so good at doing what you were told that you kept your position. How curious! What else did you do that you were asked to?''

''I signed some courtesy letters and notes, maybe some memoranda, that's all I did. Once Death Eaters took over, the British Ministry was shunned by the majority of foreign magic ministries. I was in no position to do anything of substance. I took no part in enacting Death Eaters' law, if that's what your getting at. At the Department of International Magical Co-operation we don't participate in domestic law legislation,'' the witch reminded harshly. ''And I think it rather laughable that the Auror Department decided to investigate my career a year and half since the end of the war. Where were you when I was appointed the deputy head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation by the current Minister? Unless you want to accuse Kingsley of allying himself with Lord Voldemort too.''

Proudfoot reached into the evidence box and took out a trophy in a shape of a witch standing proudly. ''And this is an award for excellence awarded to you by Pius Thicknesse,'' he said placing the statuette in front of the woman, the motto reading 'Magic Is Might' facing Crowdy.

''Are you going to set up a trial because I accepted an award?'' Crowdy laughed.

''Indeed, that would be laughable. However, I am curious what kind of excellence have you reached under Thicknesse,'' Proudfoot toyed with the statuette.

''Do you think she really supported Death Eaters?'' Harry asked once the interrogation was over.

''And what are your thoughts on the matter?'' Proudfoot asked, putting documents back into his folder.

''Well... we don't have any hard evidence that she harmed anyone, but you've got a point that she wouldn't have kept her job if she hadn't been pro-Death Eaters,'' Harry mused. He did not want to say it aloud, but he had a nagging suspection that a large part of the wizarding society had supported Death Eaters in some way, not only clerks at the Ministry. Or at very least they had not minded Death Eaters hunting muggleborns. ''You know, I think she's an Occlumens,'' he added, recalling Crowdy's stoicism and the cold glint in her eyes.

''I haven't had such an observant trainee in years,'' Proudfoot noted with a smirk. ''Join me after classes and we'll find you something more to do.''

Thanks to the interrogation Harry arrived late to the History of The Dark Arts, stealing curious glances from other three trainees. Not that he was losing any important knowledge. At least the classes weren't taught by Binns.

''I thought you weren't coming, mate!'' Ron whispered to his friend.

''Proudfoot took me to an interrogation.''

''During classes? Man, I wish it was me. It's unfair you got such a chill tutor,'' Ron sighed unhappily.

''I've got something concerning our case but I'll explain after classes,'' Harry lowered his voice even more.

A slam against the teacher's desk made two boys jump and drained blood from Maria's face. ''Potter, Weasley, if you have something that requires being discussed right now and here, I suggest you leave this room,'' the teacher said.

''Sorry, sir,'' two Gryffindors muttered.

The Gryffindors gathered in the Ministry cantine during the lunch break. Harry hated that Ginny and Luna weren't there, but he could not wait to share his discoveries with his friends.

''Listen, guys, the knives weren't transformed,'' Harry said in a hushed voice.

''Harry!'' Hermione hissed, keeping her voice low.

Harry accepted a plate from a witch at a counter with a thanks and waited for his friends to get their lunch.

''Chill, Proudfoot sent me to the storeroom. I didn't break in anywhere,'' Harry explained as the group moved to an empty table.

''You still left your magical trace with the spell!'' Hermione urged.

Ron rolled his eyes. ''And what are the chances that someone will look for any magical trace in the storeroom? It'll disappear by the time anyone does.''

Hermione crossed her arms. ''You want to tell me the precautions we took the first time were useless?!''

''Not so loud!'' Neville reminded, warily looking around, but no one seemed interested in their discussion, and it appeared Percy and Arthur had their lunch at different time.

Hermione cleared her throat, blushing a little. ''Right, sorry.''

Harry jabbed his lunch with a fork and then set lettuce aside. ''So far everything confirms the muggleborn attacker theory.''

''Yes, but it doesn't really bring us any closer. We don't have a list of muggleborn witches and wizards... we'd have to use Death Eaters' records,'' Hermione added unwillingly.

The thought had occupied Harry's mind too – the only complete records of witches and wizards disclosing their blood status had been created by Death Eaters. Harry shuddered at the thought of using anything of their creation, unless it was the teenagers' last resort.

''I still think we should talk to Everly and Williamson,'' Hermione said, reaching for her coffee.

''I've never talked to any of them. I doubt Harry did too. It would be weird if we started asking them after their cases out of the blue,'' Ron made a point.

''Savage cooperated with them on some Death Eater cases. They know me. I could try to get some information from them,'' Neville offered.

''Alright, we've got a plan for our next actions. No one acts contrary to our arrangement this time, am I clear?'' Hermione pressed, piercing Harry with their disapproving gaze. Future generations of wizards should be grateful she had not chosen a professor's career, Harry mused. ''We will update the girls after the work.''

Harry wasn't entirely happy with going back to Hermione's previous idea, but for the moment he could not think of a better solution.

''You wanted to see me,'' Harry knocked on the doorframe as he walked into his tutor's office. He looked at the man sitting at the desk crowded with folders piling up.

''Oh, yes, do come in,'' Proudfoot waved at the teenager. ''I need to organise my notes in chronological order. I was meaning to take care of it by the end of October, but it's already November and here we are... I'm always given reprimands about the mess in my folders at the end-of-month evaluation.''

Harry shot his tutor a tired gaze, but the man did not seem to notice. When Proudfoot had mentioned 'something more to do', Harry thought he was going to find him some interesting occupation. Folders definitely were a downgrade from interrogations. Actually it felt like a detention with Filch. A jolt of dread went down his spine at the thought. What if Proudfoot somehow knew? It would not be a a far-stretched conclusion, after all Proudfoot was already aware that there was some kind of bond between Harry and Severus, thanks to Harry's frantic reaction to the stabbing. Whatever inclination Harry had had to ask Proudfoot about the two stabbing cases, had died out. Better not to admit he was interested in them.

Therefore, Harry bit the bullet and took a folder from the top of the stack.

They were done with about three quarters of the folders when Proudfoot's some kind of badge flashed with a bright light.

''That's would be a call to the field,'' Proudfoot explained. ''We've got unannounced calls at random times. But it would be weird for dark wizards to make appointments, though,'' he added after a second. ''Follow me,'' he said, heading out of his office.

Harry set half-organised folder aside, thanking Merlin for saving him from this boredom.

''I shouldn't probably take you to unscheduled missions outside evening duties yet, but well, you're Harry Potter. You've seen enough battles in your life. Hopefully there won't be any rugs,'' the Auror smirked meanly.

Proudfoot received instructions concerning the localisation and the quick overview of the report. Two wizards Apparated to a town in Yorkshire to be met with an elderly muggle animatedly yelling ''I know what I saw! I'm not some lunatic! It was there! The-the Grim Reaper! He-he came for me!''

Proudfoot approached the man. ''No one in their right mind would call you a lunatic, sir. Could you describe him? We want to make sure he doesn't pester you anymore. I am certain you have many years ahead of you.''

''You know, lad, like a Grim Reaper! Black, hooded robe. Though, I had expected him to carry a scythe,'' the man furrowed his eyebrows.

''That would be because he didn't come for you,'' Harry chimed in.

''You think?'' the man asked curiously.

''Oh, I'm sure,'' Harry nodded.

''Hm, yes. And where did he go?'' Proudfoot asked.

The elder waved in the direction of a forest on a horizon. ''Ah, over there!''

''Thank you, sir. We will take care of it. Please keep us informed, should he return,'' the Auror said, while discreetly waving his wand.

The muggle's eyes briefly clouded and he blinked. ''I'm sorry, I did not catch your name.''

''Don't worry, we were just passing by,'' Proudfoot smiled politely and two wizards walked away. ''Have a nice day, sir.''

''Dementors in Yorkshire?'' Harry looked questioningly at his tutor.

''Well, they don't ward the Azkaban anymore, so they are scattered across Britain,'' Proudfoot shrugged. ''They are rarely aggressive these days, so we most often take care of damage control.''

''Which is Obliviating muggles?''

''Usually. By the way, nice small talk with that muggle,'' Proudfoot praised his trainee.

''I was raised among muggles. I know what makes them tick,'' Harry explained, though he wasn't sure if what he had endured with the Dursleys could have been called 'raising'. Better not to unpack it in front of his tutor.

Proudfoot tilted his head pensively. ''Let's check if the dementor had not caused more troubles.''

By the evening Harry was dreaming of plonking himself down on his bed, but decided to pay his dad a visit, nevertheless. He exited the fireplace in his dad's house to the sight of the Slytherin sitting in his armchair and reading some book.

''I didn't expect you to come here at such a late hour,'' Severus noted, only briefly tearing his eyes from the book.

Harry wrinkled up his nose. It was already dark, but it surely wasn't that late either. ''Is it not the time...?'' he asked cautiously, getting hints that his dad wasn't really in a talkative mood.

Severus put a bookmark between the pages and closed the book. ''I did not mean to imply that. I did not expect a visit from you today, but that does not mean you are unwelcomed here,'' he said putting the book on the end table. ''How was your day?'' Severus' black irises studied the boy. ''You seem tired.''

Harry sat down on the couch. ''It's been a pretty eventful day, but it was fun, I suppose.''

Severus arched an eyebrow. ''Let me guess... you added more notes to your abominable board?''

Harry opened up his mouth to protest, but couldn't make up his mind whether he should directly lie to his dad or try a less direct approach. He had a feeling that Severus was not going to believe him, no matter what he said.

''For better or for worse, I know you not to operate on your own. Since the possibility of ruining your career does not seem to make an impression on you, I hope you have taken into account the chances of ruining Mr. Weasley's, Ms. Granger's and Mr. Longbottom's careers too,'' Severus noted silkily. ''And it should go without saying that all of you, Ms. Weasley and Ms. Lovegood included, could be faced with charges of espionage should you accidentally hinder the investigation or find yourselves in places where you should not have.''

''I didn't investigate your case, alright?'' Harry huffed as his dad's arguments hit close to home. Yes, he needed to find the attacker, but he didn't want his friends to face eventual consequences if things went pear-shaped. ''I just had classes, an interrogation and then a field mission. That's a lot for one day, so yes, I am tired!''

''I take it then that you can promise me that you ceased the investigation like I had asked you to?'' Severus did not seem to be ready to drop the matter just yet.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Would you like me to drink Veritaserum before I do?'' He knew he was risking his dad actually going along with the suggestion, which would result in Harry making fool of himself, but he couldn't just stop himself from ridiculing his dad's stubbornness.

''No, I would like you to finally abandon the investigation,'' Severus did not appear impressed by his son's retort.

''How about that: I'll drop the investigation if you start taking precautions?'' Harry looked angrily at his dad.

Severus' own expression darkened too. ''I am not a fugitive to hide away like a coward!'' he sneered, abruptly getting up from his armchair. He paced around the tiny living room with his hands clasped behind his back, his black robes billowing behind him.

Harry glanced at his dad, not having expected such a reaction.

''How would you feel about a supper?'' Severus asked out of the blue.

Harry blinked, startled by the sudden change of subject. ''Sure.''

The former spy left for the kitchen, leaving Harry slightly stunned, but content his dad finally stopped nagging about the investigation. The teenager briefly considered joining his dad in the kitchen, but decided it would be better to give the man some space lest he felt like picking up the matter again.

Having got up from the couch, he looked at the book on the end table, titled Moste Horrifick Beaste. It did not give a feel of a good pastime book, frankly, so his gaze shifted to a parchment lying next to the book. He noticed some ingredients written down and as he was turning his gaze away disinterested, he spotted his mum's name. He glanced in the kitchen's direction, making sure his dad wasn't looking his way and took the parchment.

There were actually two lists, divided by a line in the middle of the parchment. Some of ingredients on the lists were fairly normal, like valerian, mistletoe berries, dragon liver and ashwinder eggs, but some made Harry question the purpose of the two potions. Why did Severus need Lily's saliva alongside his own saliva in the first potion? How was Severus even supposed to get Lily's saliva? And what was the point of using Harry's saliva and Lily's signature in the other? Moreover, the more 'normal' ingredients in the first potion looked oddly familiar to the boy. He had a vague feeling he had brewed similar potion in Hogwarts.

''Supper is ready!'' Severus called.

''Coming!'' Harry wondered if his too quick reply revealed he had breached his dad's privacy. He put the parchment back on the end table and headed for the kitchen.

Ar first they ate in silence. Harry was afraid of prompting his dad to get back to the matter of Harry's private investigation and judging by his dad's uncharacteristic outburst he supposed Severus most likely was uncomfortable with the matter of safety measures he should have taken, in exchange. Had he said too much? He had not meant to call Severus a coward... and technically he had not, but maybe he had done something to make his dad think he deemed him a coward?

''Are you not hungry, Harry?'' Severus eyed Harry's barely touched meal.

''Sorry, just got lost in thoughts,'' Harry said sheepishly, digging his fork into his supper. ''Look, dad, if I said something-''

''You did not. But I am not going to give the attacker satisfaction of letting them think I am afraid of them,'' Severus said, his dark eyes glimmering with determination.

Harry sighed. He knew his dad wasn't afraid, but he wished Severus approached the danger more reasonably. However, he was also aware that further discussion was going to end in another argument, so instead of talking he took a bite of his meal.

He chewed slowly as his mind wandered towards the parchment in the living room. He could not think of a reasonable explanation why his dad would need Harry's saliva as an ingredient. Or Lily's. Or his own. Was he working on improving the Bloodline potion? ''What do you need my saliva for?'' he asked at last. He could take a reprimand as long as his curiosity was sated.

''I suppose no one has ever told you it is impolite to touch other people's belongings,'' Severus said sternly, but the edges of his lips curled slightly up.

''I can give you some, no problem, but that's a weird ingredient, you know?''

''I hope you don't plan on spitting at me,'' Severus deadpanned, earning himself an eyeroll from Harry.

''Oh, come on, dad, it's only fair if you tell me,'' Harry pressed impatiently.

Severus massaged his wrist. ''I believe I have found the way to... reclaim my memories,'' he said a bit stiffly after a moment.

Harry felt his cheeks grow hotter in embarrassment. ''That's a good use of... uh, happy for you... so how much do you need?''

Chapter Text

Severus stirred clockwise the potion in his cauldron until it reached an indigo colour. He went through his notes regarding the potion: dragon liver, asphodel flowers, ashwinder egg, Lily's signature and Harry's saliva aside from the standard Forgetfulness Potion antidote ingredients, all chopped and crushed, and shredded, and boiled, and stirred in accordance to the instructions. He truly had thought that obtaining his son's saliva was going to be a much harder task, but Harry seemed to be rather enthusiastic about Severus reclaiming his memories.

Having decided he was finished, he put down the fire beneath the cauldron. It appeared the antidote to the enhanced Forgetfulness Potion was ready.

The wizard went to the tall cabinet and grabbed a bottle. Then he filled the bottle with the antidote.

That was it, was he going to reclaim his memories? he wondered as he held the bottle in the window's direction, making sunlight dissolve in the potion.

He sincerely hoped that he had prepared the antidote correctly as he did not have any more Lily's signatures to spare. However, there was no telling until he drank the potion, since the enhanced Forgetfulness Potion was one of the kind. Severus took a bezoar from his stock to be one the safe side in case of any mistakes.

He sat down in a chair, with the bottle filled with the antidote in his right hand and a bezoar in his left hand. To his own surprise, he found himself having second thoughts. Severus scoffed at himself. He was not going to back out now, when he was so close to learning the truth. Besides, Harry would probably not give him a rest if he found out Severus changed his mind, rightfully so.

The Slytherin inhaled deeply and downed the potion.

---

Severus fought his way through the swarm of customers in Fabius Macmillan's apothecary. It was still a little too early for the Autumn diseases season, and even if it was the reason behind it, they really shouldn't have come in such a large numbers. Apparently the majority of wizarding society could not be bothered to brew their own Pepperup Potion.

Among the customers he spotted a storm of red hair that could not be mistaken for anyone else. His treacherous heart sped up at the sight. Severus clenched his fist, taking a deep breath. She was just a customer, maybe she was not going to recognise him at all. They were perfect strangers, after all.

Lily approached the counter and their eyes met. She did recognise him, there was no mistake, as she looked away sheepishly. Either it was the light or her cheeks reddened a bit.

Severus looked down at Lily's shopping. To his surpise, she was buying a Blood-Replenishing Potion alongside ingredients. Lily was a talented potioneer, she could brew it herself, but maybe she did not want to waste her time, he mused.

''Sev... erus,'' Lily said shyly and rather embarrassedly as his eyes narrowed unwelcomingly at the slip of the old nickname. ''I-,'' she bit her lip.

''That will be one galleon three sickles, Mrs. Potter,'' Severus said coldly.

''Oh, right,'' Lily's quickly reached into her purse and placed the coins on the counter.

Then she collected her shopping and cast one final glance in Severus' direction before leaving the shop.

On Sunday Severus was obliged to pay his mother a visit, knowing well she would not give him a rest if he skipped the meeting.

''Severus!'' Eileen greeted her son with a kiss to cheek.

''Mother,'' he acknowledged her flatly.

Eileen offered her son a cup of tea and the two sat in the living room. ''So, tell me, how have you been?''

''Not much have changed since last Sunday, mother,'' Severus said tiredly. Every week went similarly – he worked at the cash register in Fabius Macmillan's apothecary and after the shop closed, he also brew some potions in the apothecary's laboratory. He also managed to spare some time for reading – mostly learning new spells and potions. And of course, Death Eaters meetings, whenever the Dark Lord summoned them, but he was never going to tell this to his mother. ''I believe I am making progress in Legilimency.''

''Don't you think you are dividing your attention between too many subjects? One week I hear you trying new recipes, next new spells and now a completely different branch of magic!'' Eileen scoffed, making her disapproval clear. ''I think you ought to focus solely on Potions, Severus. You will never truly master any branch of magic if you try to learn all of them at once.''

Merlin, the woman knew how to encourage independent thinking. If only he had ever told her he had been improving Borage's recipes and creating his own spells since fifteen. ''Duly noted, mother.''

''Do not mock me, Severus. I am serious,'' Eileen said harshly. Why did she even wonder Severus had a strong dislike for visiting her? ''Anyway, I had Lily Evans pay me a visit this week,'' she said and seeing curiosity in her son's eyes, she went on. ''She was asking after you, so I told her you moved out immediately after your graduation. Frankly, I was rather surprised she didn't know.''

''That would be because Lily Potter and I are no longer friends,'' Severus replied. Why would Lily even want to see him?

''It can't be! You were always such a good friends!'' Eileen protested. ''Oh, I thought you two were going to end up together... you would have made such a sweet couple,'' she sighed wistfully.

''Mother!'' Severus sneered, trying to swallow his embarrassment. Maybe his mother knew him better than he had anticipated.

''Don't worry, Severus, I am sure you will find a nice girl some day,'' Eileen patted her son's shoulder. ''Did you call her Potter?'' she asked after a second.

''Yes, she married James Potter. We were in the same year. He's a Gryffindor like Lily,'' Severus hated his voice betrayed his loathing for everything that James Potter was.

''Is he by chance connected to Henry Potter?''

''That would be his grandfather, if I recall correctly. Naturally he comes from a long line of arrogant, pampered brats,'' Severus frowned, displeased in his mother's sudden interest in his sworn enemy.

''Funny this world,'' Eileen chuckled humourlessly. ''Your second cousin stole a girl from you.''

''He didn't steal- Lily and I never- Second cousin?!'' Severus struggled to process all the information that his mother managed to squish in one sentence.

''If Henry Potter is his grandfather, he's your second cousin. Don't give me that look, Severus, I must have told you,'' Eileen pressed. ''My mother's father was Felix Potter and Henry Potter is her half-brother.''

Severus grimaced, of course he had to be related to his enemy. Next time he visited his mother, he was going to learn Black, Lupin and Pettigrew were his cousins as well, knowing his luck. ''No, mother, I do not recall you ever mentioning it,'' he said sikily.

''That would be because you rarely listen to what I say,'' Eileen scoffed indignantly.

The next week the number of customers dropped only a little bit. While the owner of apothecary was overjoyed with the recent surge in clientele, however the same could not be said for Severus. He highly doubted Macmillan was going to give him a raise, despite the increase in the apothecary's revenue.

The door opened, announcing arrival of another customer. It was her, again, as if Lily was a ghost of his past that set its mind on haunting him. They haven't talked in years, couldn't she just leave him alone?

Lily headed straight for the counter, making it as clear as day she came for him.

''How can I help you?'' Severus asked, hoping that she would get the hint that he was in no mood for such games.

''Severus, I... I wanted to apologise,'' Lily said with a slight tremor in her voice. ''James told-''

James, of course it had to be about James. Had Potter and his friends come up with a brand new idea how to prank Snivellus? ''Can't you see I am working right now?''

''I know and I wouldn't want to take your time, but... if we could talk?'' Lily asked.

Severus had an urge to tell her to stop harassing him at work, but her presence awakened the longing for her friendship that he had thought he had learnt to ignore. They couldn't be friends again, he knew that... ''Come again after six P.M.,'' he said instead. It was a disastrous idea, he was fully aware of that, but the temptation was too strong.

Lily nodded, her features softening a little. ''Six P.M. then.''

Even though Severus had closed the shop, he did not leave for the laboratory on the first floor, or his flat in the attic, waiting for Lily to come. Was she going to come at all? Maybe it was just a prank? Or maybe she changed her mind already? She had said she wanted to apologise – maybe she decided that she had already apologised by saying those words and therefore there was no need to see Severus ever again?

Three past six the door opened and Lily walked in. ''Thank you for having me, Severus.''

Awkward silence fell as none of them dared to speak, getting on Severus' nerves. ''You wanted to talk,'' he said at last.

''Yes... I'm sorry, Severus,'' she said and his jaw tensed as he had a feeling her green eyes were scanning him. ''You see, recently James mentioned the prank in conversation with Padfoot... Sirius, that is,'' she added abashedly. ''I've been thinking about it ever since... I should've believed you,'' she looked briefly at him and then at the floor. ''I wish I was a better friend to you,'' she admitted ruefully.

Severus clenched his fists. There had been the time he would have done anything to hear those words, but it had been back in their fifth year. Maybe things would have turned out differently if she had said it sooner. And now... the ship has sailed – she was married to James Potter and he was a Death Eater. ''Save your breath, Lily. You just want to make yourself feel better after all those years,'' he sneered. ''You said your thing, now you can leave.''

Lily took a step in his direction. ''It probably looks like that to you. I don't blame you for that. I wasn't a good friend, I see it now. And I truly regret it. We really shouldn't have fallen out over a stupid slur, but my pride...''

Severus wanted to argue, he wanted to remind her he had spent a night outside Gryffindor tower's door, waiting for her to come out, that she had abandoned him for more popular students. But he couldn't. He had never been able to be mad at her for too long. ''Don't you ever miss our friendship, Lily?'' he asked. The Lily-sized hole in his heart reminded of its existence.

''I do,'' she whispered, like she was sharing some embarrassing secret.

He looked at her, not having realised earlier how close she was and she was getting closer with every passing second, as if they both were pulled by magnetic field.

Lily must have noticed it as well, as she blinked at him paling, then blushed and stormed out of the shop.

Severus' stomach sank as she left his proximity, most likely for good this time, and felt his own cheeks grow hotter at the memory of anticipation of... something.

Fool, he scolded himself and headed for the door to close the shop for the night.

However, she came again the following morning.

''Lily, you cannot keep coming here,'' he warned her, even though he could not tell her why. It was the third time she visited the apothecary, someone was bound to notice it, perhaps a Death Eater.

''I know you are busy...'' Lily said apologetically.

Severus narrowed his eyes, hoping that she got the message. ''I mean it.''

Lily furrowed her eyebrows, taken slightly aback. ''I see,'' she said and left. ''Goodbye, Sev.''

The Slytherin exhaled slowly, trying to ignore his stomach doing flips at the nickname.

Few days later he bumped into her as he was closing the shop, about to head for some groceries. ''Lily, I told you not to come!'' he hissed, frightful somebody saw them talking.

''I thought you finished for today,'' Lily protested in self-defence. ''Oh, it's not about that,'' she averted his gaze as her own eyes filled with understanding. ''Sorry, I misinterpreted your behaviour,'' she said, turning away.

As she began walking away, Severus had a feeling he was losing her again. It was an irrational feeling, he knew that. She had never been his. True, they used to be friends, but they had been childhood friends, their relationship as immature as they had been. And now they were no longer playing by the riverbanks in Cokeworth and swinging in the playground on swings so old they creaked with every movement and looked like they were about to break any second. They were no longer those children, having more important roles to play. He should have known their friendship was not going to survive their adolescence.

''Lily, wait!'' Severus took a step in her direction. ''Since you made an effort of coming here, why don't you come in?'' he said defeated.

She smiled a little and walked inside the shop as he opened the door for her.

''Do you ever leave this place?'' Lily asked surprised, probably not having expected another invitation to the shop after closing hours.

''Rarely,'' Severus replied flatly. ''I rented a flat in the attic.''

''Would you mind giving me a tour?''

Severus reluctantly agreed. At least it would be less awkward than standing in the middle of the shop. He led her through the backroom and upstairs, showing her the laboratory and finally to his flat.

He felt a pang of embarrassment as Lily looked around a cramped room with a small kitchen annex with a table and two chairs, a bed, a small wardrobe and books scattered across shelves and on the floor. She had grown up in Cokeworth, but living with pampered Potter must have made her used to richies, while the view in front of her was rather pathetic.

Severus cleared his throat. ''I didn't expect any guests. The bathroom is behind the door,'' he pointed at the door that wasn't the entrance to the flat.

''Yes, well, I should've probably let you know sooner,'' Lily offered a shy smile. She at down at the table.

''Would you like some tea?'' he asked stiffly.

''I'm good, thanks.''

Not having come up with a way out of this situation, Severus joined her at the table. ''I suppose I should congratulate you on your marriage,'' he said at last.

''Thank you,'' she replied, not looking him into eyes.

''So, Potter told you... does it change your view on him and his friends?'' Severus dared her.

''Sev, James has changed,'' Lily pressed.

Severus barked out a laugh. ''You came here for me and your husband to shake hands and become good friends?''

Lily rolled her eyes. ''My mind isn't going yet. If you are ever to make peace, it should be James' doing, not mine. Truth be told, he doesn't know I'm here.''

''And where he thinks you are now?'' Severus crossed his arms, intrigued by the confession.

Lily shrugged. ''I dunno. He doesn't need to be informed of my whereabouts all the time. He doesn't tell me where the Marauders spent their time, either.''

''A healthy marriage,'' Severus scoffed.

''Like you'd know any better,'' Lily shook her head. ''And what about you? How have you been?''

''Look around and take your guess,'' Severus deadpanned.

''It's a good place to start, but it could use some finishing touches to brighten it up a bit. You know, a plant or two. Maybe some music?'' Lily reached for her wand and cast a music charm, playing some soothing tune. ''Isn't it nicer?'' she said getting up. ''Come on, Sev!'' she waved at him.

''Lily, what in Merlin's-?'' Severus looked at her tiredly.

''Don't make me beg you. Don't you remember how we used to dance by the river?'' Lily teased him.

''I do. We would be barefoot and the grass would be tall. This is hardly similar setting,'' he pointed out. He barely had the time to finish the sentence before the floor was covered in soft grass.

''Better?'' Lily asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

''If Macmillan cuts down my salary it's on you,'' Severus warned, getting up from his chair.

''Deal,'' Lily smirked as he took her hand.

''Lily, I meant it when I said you cannot keep coming here,'' Severus said amid the dance. He could not tell her, but she had to know they could not keep on dancing like nothing had changed, even though it made him feel as though they were still those children. ''It's not about you,'' he added, afraid of wounding her feelings.

''Then why don't you visit me instead at the-?'' Lily proposed.

''There's no way I'm setting my foot in Potter's house,'' Severus cut her short. ''Like I said, it's not about you, but if he or one if his friends sees you around me, they might get some wrong ideas,'' was the best excuse he could come up with.

''And what's wrong with reconcilling with your friend?''

Severus glanced at the note in his hand, reading 'Meet me at the Crooked Teapot café at half past six' and at the Crooked Teapot café sign over his head. After a moment of hesitation he walked in, trying to catch the glimpse of the woman who had left the note in the shop. There she was, a tall brunette maybe around her mid-twenties, sitting at the table in the corner. Without an invitation he joined her at the table and looked into her eyes searching for any signs of possible decoy. The witch's brown eyes were foreign to him, yet he recognised the glint in them. The woman, whom he believed to be Lily, smirked smugly at the recognition in his eyes. Severus furrowed his eyebrows – Lily could not have managed to brew the Polyjuice Potion since their last meeting. Had she bought the potion somewhere else or she kept a stock in her home?

''What the heck?'' he asked. Part of him wanted to say her name just to see her reaction, but he chose not to blow up her cover. If the person sitting at the table was Lily at all. It could have been easily a trap.

''You said we shouldn't be seen together, so I got rid of this issue,'' the woman shrugged nonchalantly. ''Thinking of another excuse, already, are you, Sev?'' she teased.

''And you are always a step ahead of me?'' Severus he asked silkily.

''I try to be resourceful,'' she said reaching for a flask. She uncorked it and took a sip. ''Are we ordering anything?''

They said their goodbyes only a cup of coffee and three cups of tea per person later. They would have probably stayed longer if not Lily's Polyjuice Potion running thin.

''Ah, Severus, I rarely see you out in the Diagon Alley at such a late hour,'' Lucius called him. Severus exhaled slowly, feeling all the good mood seep out of his pores in an instant. Of course they had to cross their paths.

Frankly, Severus had lost track of time – talking to Lily felt as natural as it had all those years ago. As if they had gone separate towns and reunited again and the fall out had never happened.

''The same can be said for you, Lucius,'' Severus slightly bowed his head in a greeting.

A smile danced on the blonde's lips. ''Was that a woman I caught a sight by your side?''

Severus was thankful for Lily's forethought. Only few most trusted Death Eaters knew other Death Eaters' identities, but Severus was ready to bet Lucius was the Dark Lord's servant as well. ''If so, then what?''

''I would say it is high time,'' Lucius put his hand on Severus' shoulder. It took a lot of willpower not to tense at the touch. ''You really ought to leave that pitiful shop more often and meet with some nice pure-blood ladies. I cannot help but wonder why do you still linger under Macmillan's thumb.''

''If you plan to make a job offer, I am listening,'' Severus deadpanned.

''I do not have a job offer, however I do have an offer,'' Lucius noted and Severus could already sense troubles incoming. ''Narcissa and I are awaiting a bundle of joy and you are high on the list of potential godfathers.''

Wonderful, another spoiled brat incoming, Severus thought unhappily. ''Please pass on my congratulations to Narcissa. And to what do I owe the honour?''

''Whose hair did you steal this time?'' Severus shot Lily an incredulous look as they headed upstairs to his flat.

''I dunno, some girl's,'' Lily smirked mischievously with lips belonging to a petite blue-eyed blonde. ''I don't see you minding.''

Severus opened the door and let her in. As she sat down, he busied himself with making some tea for two of them. ''Your husband is having another boys' night out?''

''I go with James to the majority of his meetings with his friends and I take him to the majority of meetings with mine. He deserves some break from me.''

''And you from him?'' Severus raised an eyebrow, putting a cup in front of her.

''It wouldn't be very healthy if we never left each other sides, would it?'' Lily noted, accepting the cup. ''And what about you? Do you have someone?''

''And can you see me having someone?'' Severus asked flatly.

Lily rested her chin on her hand. ''I can't see why not – you are smart, funny, ambitious...''

''And utterly unattractive,'' Severus reminded.

''What do my ears hear? Is it Severus Snape pitying himself? You know, Sev, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I promise you you are not bad looking, either. I could meet you with some of my girlfriends. Maybe Susan? You two should take liking to each other. She's an awfully nerdy Ravenclaw.''

''I'm not pitying myself, I'm just realistic. And I don't need any romantic thrills in my life,'' he sneered, but against his best efforts, he felt crimson creeping onto his cheeks. ''And don't act like you're not a nerd yourself, Lily.''

''Got me there,'' she laughed. Even when she used someone else' voice, her laughter sounded bright. ''Gosh, how I miss sneaking into the library after the curfew... do you still have your notes? I've kept mine. It's funny to look back and see how little we knew. Though, some of our discoveries I still find useful.''

Severus waved his wand, calling his notes onto the table.

Lily reached for the topmost parchment and hungrily skimmed through its content. ''Oh, the Confusing Concoction, I remember it! Shredding Sneezewort was absolutely ingenious of you, Sev!'' she smiled brightly and put her hand on his left forearm jovially. Severus retreated his hand as if burnt, before he even got the time to think about his actions. Lily's lips parted and she stared at him. ''You are one of them,'' she choked out in disbelief.

''And you are one of them,'' Severus deducted, which didn't require much effort – most likely the majority, if not all, Gryffindors from their year group had become members of the Order of the Phoenix.

''How? Wh-why?'' Lily asked incredulously. ''You don't believe this bullshit!''

''You don't know what I believe, Lily,'' Severus replied harshly. They got back in touch after four years and she had the audacity to claim she knew him?

''How can you support this blood purity nonsense, being a half-blood yourself?''

''That's precisely why!'' Severus barked out. ''If my mother had married a proper pure-bloodied wizard instead of a drunkard muggle, I wouldn't be who I am!''

''Merlin, do you even hear yourself? You are worth more than all those pure-bloodied pricks combined!'' Lily's gaze was fiery.

''Your husband and Black included?'' Severus mocked.

Lily sharply stood up and turned around, leaving without a word, before the Polyjuice Potion had the chance to wear off.

Severus did not know what felt worse – the risk of exposure or the fact that whatever positive opinion on him Lily had developed in that short span of time had crumbled to nothingness. Even Macmillan's threats that he was going to fire Severus and remove him from the flat if he did not immediately improve his job performance felt bleak in comparison. How he was supposed to work when he could have sworn he had caught the sight of Lily's hair behind the window at least few times a day for the last few days?

Then, suddenly she returned, not even hiding under Polyjuice Potion's effect. Or maybe it was someone else pretending to be Lily?

''Severus, we need to talk,'' she demanded, dumping her shopping on the counter, apparently uncaring if she broke a bottle or two.

''There's nothing left to discuss, Mrs. Potter,'' he narrowed his eyes.

Lily gripped his left forearm, boring her own green eyes into him, but he could not yank his forearm from her grip without drawing unnecessary attention. Unfortunately, it seemed that Lily was not going to leave the spot by the cash register until he complied and customers waiting for their turn behind Lily were slowly growing impatient.

''You know when to come,'' he hissed in whisper and in response Lily put the sum on the counter and snatched her shopping on her way out.

She walked in again at the closing time.

''I must praise your stubbornness, Lily,'' Severus said locking the door.

''So you are still afraid of being spotted talking to a muggleborn?'' Lily crossed her arms, watching Severus draw the curtains.

''As you should be too! You are turning yourself into an easy prey by coming here, and me alongside you, by proxy,'' he sneered, clenching his fists.

''How sweet of you to worry about me,'' Lily mocked. ''I'm only some mudblood, I certainly don't deserve so much care.''

''You've come here only to rub into my face that you've known for years what kind of a rotten apple I am?'' Severus seethed. ''Have you already told your husband who I am? Or have you gone straight to Dumbledore with latest news?''

''No,'' Lily looked away. ''I haven't told anyone and I don't plan to.''

The response took him off guard. ''Why?'' She had all the reasons to snitch on him.

''Because this is not who you are. You are intelligent, curious and-and caring,'' Lily pressed when Severus was about to argue. The wizard scoffed in reply. ''They are cruel people! They... they carry out raids on entire families and slaughter them all! They torture people until they drive them mad! I don't believe you could do to any of these things that they do. Look me in the eye and tell me that you torture people and murder them and take pleasure in it!'' she demanded.

Severus felt small under her scrutinising gaze. ''I don't,'' his voice came out quieter than he had expected. He cleared his throat before speaking again. ''I don't take part in raids. My role is of different nature... I brew potions and gather information,'' he admitted. He knew these were things he absolutely should not have told her, but she had already figured out his allegiance, so did it even matter how much she knew? Either way, he was as good as dead.

''Do you think I don't deserve basic human rights, because I am a muggleborn?'' she kept gnawing at him.

''No!'' Severus protested. The mere idea of Lily being subjected to the treatment that Death Eaters gave to muggleborns flipped his stomach inside out.

''And that's who you are, Sev... I saw the disgust on your face at the mention of their deeds. You're not cruel. You don't belong with them,'' Lily said with her eyes filled with sorrow.

Severus did not want her pity. He had made his own choices and he was going to face the consequences. ''You are mistaken – that's exactly who I am!'' he snapped. Lily was right that he did not fit the stereotypical Death Eater image, but that was where he belonged. For the first time in his life he belonged somewhere. He wasn't ridiculed anymore, unlike Cokeworth and Hogwarts.

''Do I need to summon a mirror to show you how wrong you are? No,'' she shook her head. ''It's not on you, but on me. By estranging you, I pushed you into their embrace. I see it now,'' she looked apologetically at him. ''But you still have a chance! They haven't corrupted you,'' she urged, grabbing his hand.

''It was my choice,'' Severus hissed.

''Did you really have any?''

Lily words threatened to open a door he did not wish to investigate, resonating with doubts he had thought long buried. ''And what do you propose that I do? It's not some club you can just sign out. You've heard all about attacks on muggleborns and the Dark Lord's enemies... you must have heard what happens to those who tried to leave.''

Lily squeezed his hand. ''Then join us. We will protect you!''

''Protect me?'' Severus barked out an incredulous laugh. ''How? You can hardly protect yourselves. You are outnumbered.''

''Dumbledore is a powerful wizard!'' Lily pressed.

''And so is the Dark Lord,'' Severus pointed out.

''So you side with them only because they have the advantage in numbers?''

The more she asked, the harder he found it to explain his involvement with the Death Eaters. However, there was no way out and if there were any, he did not need anyone to come and save him. The Order was not going to accept him, anyway. ''Yours will think I am a spy.''

''Then I'll vouch for you,'' Lily said, cupping his cheeks.

Just like with the slur, Severus actions were quicker than his mind could register and stop him in time before the disaster. He leant forward for a clumsy kiss. Lily stared at him wide-eyed and he jumped back.

''I'm sorry-I didn't mean-'' Severus uttered frightened to the core. What had he been even thinking? She was a married woman and-

Lily derailed whatever train of thought he was having by pulling him back for a kiss. Oh, she was definitely more competent in this regard, slightly opening her mouth and gently letting her tongue inside his mouth.

''Lily!'' he yelped or rather tried to for the kiss made it difficult to speak.

Lily pulled back, blushing as if it was her first time. ''Sev... I...'' she hesitated. Then she softly put her hand at the back of his neck and guided him to lean for another kiss.

Severus still was not certain what he was doing, but he prided himself in being a quick learner, so he let his arms wander around Lily's back. And it seemed that he was doing things right as Lily pressed him against the counter.

''Lily, I work here!'' Severus reminded breathlessly.

''...right,'' Lily looked around like she was only now noticing their surroundings. ''Upstairs?''

He should have stopped this madness right there, but his blood decided to drain from his brain to different parts of his body. As soon as the flat's door closed behind them, Lily started taking off his robes.

''No,'' Severus covered the Dark Mark with his hand as Lily tried to free his left arm from his clothing. He didn't want her to see it. He didn't want her to touch it. ''He summons us by touching it... I don't know what will happen-''

''If a muggleborn touches it,'' Lily finished the sentence for him. ''But I've already touched it,'' she argued.

''Through clothing, not the skin.''

In the end, it did not turn out to be an obstacle – Severus lay naked in his bed, which was not exactly made for two, with his Dark Mark bandaged, holding Lily's equally naked body in his arms.

''Why?'' Severus asked, pressing a kiss to Lily's shoulder.

Lily blinked, staring at the ceiling. ''I don't know,'' she said after a moment.

''Did you come to recruit me?'' Severus nuzzled her neck with his nose.

''You are ridiculous,'' she smiled as she brushed away a strand of his hair.

''You appear after years, try to talk me into joining the Order and then get into my bed,'' he said.

''When you put it like that...'' Lily tilted her head, considering his perspective. ''But it's you who started the bed thing,'' she propped her head on her hand, looking at him.

''I didn't mean to,'' Severus said lamely, the excuse landing weakly.

''Well, to me you seemed quite eager,'' she smirked.

''What happens now? Are you going back to him?'' Severus pulled her closer at the thought of her departure.

''I can't stay here,'' Lily said, pressing her head to his chest.

''Is it really necessary?'' Lily asked after paying for a bedroom with a double bed at the Leaky Cauldron.

Severus eyed her dissatisfied. She really should not be the one to pay, but she did not want to hear his protest as he hardly could afford it. Lily took the key with a thanks.

''I do not want to raise any suspicions. Someone is bound to notice that I have some visitors of the opposite sex,'' Severus explained.

''Oh no, that would not do. We wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation. Somebody may even call you a hussy!'' she teased.

''It's more for your sake than for mine,'' Severus noted, walking into the bedroom.

Lily watched him with the eyes not belonging to her and brushed hair on his head that also did not belong to him. ''You know, Sev, blonde isn't really my type,'' she said with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

''Next time I'll try to pick a hair of a customer who suits your taste,'' Severus deadpanned.

The two sat on the bed, waiting for the Polyjuice Potion effects wear off for both of them.

''So, how have you been? There have been some raids last week... I hope they haven't asked too much of you,'' Lily said.

''It's better if we refrain from discussing our involvement in the war. Information is crucial asset and if either of the sides finds out, they'll want to get it out from one of us,'' Severus noted.

Lily sighed. ''I know it's safer that way... but I really cannot stand the idea of you beside them.''

''And I cannot stand the idea of you putting your life on the line,'' Severus said, reaching for her hand.

''Sev... I am a muggleborn, my life would still be in danger even if I didn't join the Order,'' Lily said ruefully.

Severus averted her gaze, knowing well that she was right and caressed her thumb with his own. He felt her hand slightly shift its shape just as he felt his nose grow bigger.

Lily smiled at him, gently cupping his face with her free hand. ''There you are.''

Severus brushed her gorgeous red hair and leant for a kiss with a smile on his face. Even though Lily would tackle the matter once in a while, probably still hoping to do what she most likely believed to be saving a lost soul, her presence made it easy to forget there was a war going on and that they found each other on the opposite sides of the conflict.

''What is the point of this?'' Severus asked during their postcoital cuddles.

''Point of what?'' Lily furrowed her eyebrows.

''You have a husband. Aren't you happy with him?'' Severus asked, slowly caressing her soft, delicate skin.

''I am,'' Lily said as she gently stroked his body in return. ''But... there are things about me that he doesn't understand. It's just...'' she pondered for a moment. ''Sometimes I think no one gets me like you do.''

Severus hummed pensively. The feeling was mutual, but he did not find it a sufficient explanation for their affair. Part of him wanted to pressure her into making a choice between Potter and him, similarly to how she had had years ago, but he quickly put down that desire.

Having finished dressing up in his robes, Severus reached for a flask of a Polyjuice Potion. He did not felt like leaving the bedroom in Three Broomsticks just yet, wishing for the moment to last a little bit longer. Alas, Lily had her responsibilities and he had his own, which did not present them with as much time for themselves as they wished.

The wizard grimaced slightly at the taste of the potion, furowing his eyebrows. Peculiar, he remembered today's potion to taste differently. He felt his body change its shape. Lily's giggling drew his attention to the witch.

''Mmm, looking real good, Sev,'' Lily said faux-suggestively.

Severus looked down at himself to see his robes bulged on his chest. ''Damn it,'' he hissed with a voice belonging to a woman. ''Maybe next time let's not place our potions next to each other,'' he huffed.

''I suppose I should drink yours then,'' Lily noted with a playful smile on her face, reaching for the remaining flask on the end table. She took a sip and soon transformed into a brown-haired, slightly plump man.

''And what about our clothes, Lily? We should swap them as well,'' Severus noted tiredly, looking at his now too long sleeves and then at Lily's currently too short.

Lily appeared out of sudden in his flat. Severus at first looked at her startled – she had never paid him a visit in such a manner. Then he saw the fright and anxiety in her eyes and his guts churned. Had something happened to her or her friends?

''Lily, are you alright?'' he asked wrapping her in his arms. ''What is wrong?'' he gently brushed her hair, placing tiny kisses to her head.

Lily looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes. ''I'm... I'm pregnant,'' she inhaled sharply.

Severus took a step back and watched her wide-eyed. Subconsciously his gaze stopped at her stomach. ''Have you told your husband or I am the first one to hear the joyful news?'' he asked defensively.

''I haven't told him... it's not his,'' Lily said quietly. ''There's that witch in the outskirts of Hogsmeade... she sells potions that reveal if a man is a father of an unborn child to women in need,'' she said, presenting a bottle to Severus.

''So you tested the potion on him first? I bet you hoped it was his,'' Severus sneered. ''Did you told him about the properties of the potion or have you slipped him the potion?'' he scoffed, but the look on her face told him everything.

''Don't act like you are surprised!'' Lily glared daggers at him. ''He is my husband. Of course I sleep with him too!''

''Why did you bring me the potion then? If it's not his, it surely must be mine... unless you've got more lovers,'' Severus narrowed his eyes at her.

''Severus!'' Lily panted in anger.

The wizard looked at the bottle in her hand. ''So you want to make sure the potion isn't faulty. How do I use it?''

''You spit into it. Alternatively, you can take a sip, leaving some of your saliva in the bottle, but I doubt you'd be interested – I had to add my urine to complete the potion.''

Severus cackled at the image of James Potter drinking his wife's urine. Did she slip the potion into his tea or coffee? ''He didn't notice anything?'' he asked slightly amused.

Lily exhaled slowly, steadying herself. ''Sev, could you be more serious about it?''

Severus took the bottle and spit into it, making the potion turn pinkish. He watched the potion curiously, making a mental note to study this particular potion. ''Does it mean yes or no?''

''Yes, it means yes. The other outcome is nothing happening,'' Lily explained.

''What now? Are you going to return to your husband and tell him you cheated on him with Snivellus? I'm sure he'll be delighted,'' he ridiculed. It was easier to make fun of James Potter than to think about impending fatherhood.

Lily sat on his bed and hid her face in her hands. ''I don't know, Sev. I didn't have the time to think about it. But I have to tell James about my pregnancy, he'll notice it sooner or later.''

Severus crossed his arms. ''Sure, return home, tell him it's his. Ditch me again,'' he sneered.

She looked at him with a pained expression. ''I can't... I won't leave you again. Join us instead! We can... we can think something out,'' she said desperately, like she was trying to convince herself.

''Think what exactly out? You cannot have a cake and eat it too, Lily. It's either his child or mine. You have to make a choice,'' he said harshly, this time not minding echoing her words in response to his apology. She had been so hard on him for his inability to make a choice and now she believed she could escape it? ''But can you?''

That night Severus found himself unable to fall asleep. He was going to be a father... he was not made for parenthood, he knew that. And even if by some miracle Lily chose him over Potter, what future their child would have? Were the three of them going to live in this tiny flat? And all of that under an assumption that Death Eaters were not going to find out and hunt them down, which was highly unlikely.

''Lily, you have tell him it's his child.'' He could not believe he was actually telling her that, but it was the only right solution. ''Your child will have a much better future with his name.''

''Now you sound like you are trying to run away from responsibilities,'' Lily scoffed.

''Lily, these are the facts. I am broke! With his name your child is going to have the Potter family fortune to their name,'' he argued. How could he provide for a child if saving for a wand took him a year with cutting his expenses to bare minimum?

''Our child,'' Lily corrected him. ''And I'm not going to estrange you because of money!''

''It's not only about money. It's also about your safety! Do you think Death Eaters will tolerate one of them having an affair with a muggleborn?! They will kill you and your child and then they will kill me for a treason! And don't start again how I could join the Order. If they find out you cheated on Potter, they will ostracise you.''

''You don't know that!'' Lily snapped.

''Oh, I know the Marauders. They won't forgive you,'' Severus sneered. ''Let's just agree this entire thing was a mistake and move on already,'' he said impatiently, pretending the path he had chosen for them did not hurt.

''How can you say that?'' Lily asked indignantly.

''This,'' Severus waved his hand between her and himself. ''Was never supposed to happen. Your child was supposed to be his, anyway, so let it be his.''

Lily grabbed his hand. ''I can't... I love you, Sev,'' she said sheepishly while looking him in the eye. And in her green eyes he saw something pained and broken.

''Then why haven't you already made up your mind?'' Severus scoffed, yanking his hand from hers. Her words were not supposed to hurt like that. Could she have loved him years ago if he had not called her that slur?

''Haven't you guessed? I love him too,'' Lily said running her hand down her face, clearly distraught. ''I can't choose... And before you say anything, I know it makes me a hypocrite,'' she noted sharply.

''You have to go back to him and forget any of this happened, it's the only way,'' Severus pressed.

''How could I forget? Do you expect me to Obliviate myself?'' Lily sternly spoke.

Severus shook his head. ''No, I am not a madman – casting Obliviate on yourself is very risky. No,'' he bit his finger and drummed the other hand on the table, lost in thoughts. ''We both need to forget,'' he concluded.

''You are a madman, after all,'' Lily frowned.

''No, I am merely precautionary. I think we can agree neither side may find out and to prevent the Dark Lord from finding out I need to forget as well. Lily, he is a powerful Legilimens and while I have undertaken the study of Occlumency, I am not certain if I will be able to hide the information from him,'' Severus looked at her across the table. ''You will be safer that way. You both will be safer.''

''What then?'' Lily crossed her arms, still not sold on his idea. ''The Forgetfulness Potion will not suffice, either,'' she ridiculed.

''You are right... but if we modified it?''

''Sweet Merlin, you can't be serious right now! No way!'' Lily slammed her hand against the table and got up.

''Lily, please, consider this,'' Severus asked, seeing she was about to head out of his flat.

Until their next meeting, Severus was working on a potion that would erase their memories in a way that would not raise the Dark Lord's suspicions, should he wish to perform Legilimency on Severus. He had a few ideas, but he knew he was missing something. For instance, how to make it so they only forgot their affair rather than their entire friendship? Memories related to romances were strong and therefore harder to erase. One mistake with a potion and they could accidentally forget each others' existence altogether.

''I can't believe I am going along with your crazy plan,'' Lily huffed in the shop's laboratory. ''Your idea with adding our saliva to the Forgetfulness Potion is alright, but I wouldn't add an infusion of wormwood – it's too potent,'' she commented Severus' notes.

''What do you suggest then?'' Severus peeked at his notes over her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her body. Then he quickly withdrew them, remembering that none of this mattered, since they were going to forget it soon.

Lily turned her head to look at him. ''You don't want this either, Sev.''

''You will be safer... will be happier,'' Severus said, avoiding her eyes.

''I won't,'' Lily said, not elaborating which statement she had in mind.

Severus cleared his throat. ''What about the recipe?''

''I'd add asphodel flowers instead. Asphodel will be much better than wormwood and flowers will dissolve slower than powdered root-'' Lily thought aloud.

''Preventing the potion from working too quickly and from leaving us confused due to lost memories,'' Severus concluded, looking at Lily with so much adoration in his eyes. She was a genius – with the potion working slowly, lost memories would seem like mundane, unimportant events in their lives that were not worth remembering and thus slipped into oblivion. They would fly under every Legilimenses' radar. ''But what about confining the effect of the potion only to our affair?''

Lily turned around and playfully slapped his shoulder. ''Don't call it like that! It sounds awfully old-fashioned!''

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. ''And how shall I call it then? You are a married woman, after all.''

Lily rolled her eyes, but smiled softly nevertheless. She locked him in her embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. ''Let's not do this,'' she said as he buried his face in her hair. ''There must be another way.''

''We need a time stamp for the potion,'' Severus said, kissing her temple. He felt her chest moving against his.

''I should still have the Blood-Replenishing Potion I bought from you. Maybe we could use the cork?'' Lily suggested.

There was another matter that required tackling. Even if they erased their memories, it would all be in vain if the child was born with Severus' black eyes and grew up to sport hooked nose and greasy black hair.

Standing in the corner of the bookshop, Severus leafed through a rather absorbing, yet, judging by the amount of dust it gathered, forgotten book on potions related to blood ties. The book's pages and the cover looked aged as well – the book probably had spent years in the bookshop being overlooked. The book listed some potions he had not come across earlier, such as the Bloodline Potion. The potion sold to Lily by the witch in Hogsmeade had its honorary mention as well.

The wizard's sight skimmed through description of a potion that permanently altered unborn child's appearance without any limits. Just when Severus started having his hopes high, he read the description carefully enough to notice the potion being presented as highly susceptible to Veritae potions, which was far from ideal.

Dissatisfied, Severus kept on turning pages of the book in search of something more fitting their needs. Maybe ten pages later he spotted another potion of similar properties.

''Hey, lad, this is not a library! Either pay for the book or put it back – you have been reading it for the past half an hour!'' the owner of Flourish and Blotts yelled at Severus.

''Naturally, pardon me,'' Severus politely bowed his head and reached to put the book back into its place. As soon as the owner of the shop turned his face away, Severus swiftly opened the book again and having wordlessly cast a Muffliato, tore few pages from the book and hid them in his pocket.

''We are lucky Macmillan doesn't seem to care what you brew in his lab,'' Lily noted as Severus bottled the potion.

''I don't think the old greedy fool would be even able to tell that I'm brewing a potion he doesn't sell,'' Severus grimaced.

Lily played with the bottle in her hand. ''So... that's it? Are we really going to do it?''

''Optimally, we should drink the potion before going to sleep,'' Severus stated matter-of-factly and then cleared his throat. ''But if you are amenable, I'd like to share one last cup of tea with you,'' he proposed.

Lily looked at him with her eyes filled with an ocean of sorrow and nodded hesitantly.

He poured them two cups of tea and secretly also poured a potion into Lily's cup. He knew he should be candid with her, but did it even matter if neither of them were about to remember any of this tomorrow?

He put two cups on the table and joined Lily. He carefully watched her reaching for the cup intended for her and taking a sip. If she found his stare suspicious, she did not say a thing. Lily probably thought that he was watching her so closely, because it was the last day they remembered their affair. He should have told her she was drinking a potion that would make their child look more similar to James, but he did not want to go through the hassle of convincing her. He barely managed to persuade her that the Forgetfulness Potion was the right solution. Had he added altering their child's phenotype to the mix, she would most likely changed her mind.

He sincerely hoped the phenotype altering potion was going to work. While the changes were not detectable as far as he knew, the potion came with its limits – it worked to the greater extend the sooner drunk in pregnancy and the closer the biological father and the person that the child was supposed to resemble were related. Luckily, Lily's pregnancy was still at very early stage, but Severus was not sure if second cousins were related closely enough for the potion to work. However, he did not have the time to come up with a better solution.

''Lily, you should leave Great Britain for your own and your child's safety,'' Severus said.

''First forget us and then leave? You want me to renounce my life?'' Lily frowned.

''No, I want you safe,'' he urged. ''Write it down, so that you won't forget it after drinking the potion... take him with you if you must, but leave!''

Suddenly, Lily took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. ''Do you really think it was a mistake?'' she asked with burdened chest.

Severus swallowed loudly. The foetus was still too small to even notice or feel any change, but he knew it was there. ''Lily...'' his voice got stuck in his throat. His fingers found the texture of his wand. ''Expecto patronum!'' he called and a silver doe emerged from his wand. She deserved to know that much even if the fact slipped into oblivion tomorrow. Lily burst in tears and Severus could not think of the words to console her.

They sat at the table in silence, both already grieving the end of their affair. Tears on Lily's cheeks had already dried out.

''I think it is the time,'' Severus said, noticing it was getting late.

Lily must have noticed it too, as she stood up. Severus followed the suit, but he did not know what to say. All 'goodbyes' and 'farewells' felt flat and soulless, so he just stood there awkwardly. Lily walked to him and brushing softly his jaw with her fingers, she slightly lifted herself to her tiptoes going for the last kiss.

''I'm gonna miss you, Sev,'' she said breaking the touch.

''No, you won't,'' Severus replied factually.

Lily gave him one last ached look. ''I wish there was place for us. Goodbye, Sev,'' she said opening the door.

''Goodbye, Lily.''

And so she left, taking all the beauty in his life away with her.

Severus sat on his bed, clenching in his fist the bottle containing that darned improved Forgetfulness Potion. He hoped that Lily was not going to change her mind, but if she would, he would understand her, feeling himself an urge to smash the bottle against the wall. He was giving up Lily, he was giving up their child willingly to James Potter. Potter, who always got everything he wanted in his life without even raising a finger, and who now was about to own Severus' child. The child that was going to resemble Potter if the phenotype altering potion proved itself worthy. Severus was never going to find out if he had a daughter or a son. He was not going to know what would be his child's name. He was not going to see how his child would naturally look like without his interference. His grip on the bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Occlude, he told himself, closing his eyes.

Severus was not cut out for the role of father. Even if he got a shot at it, he would have eventually turned out like his own father... he would not wish such a father upon his own child.

It was better this way. Lily and their child would be safer, happier, wealthier. They were better off with more respectable Potter.

Once he decided he had calmed down enough, he uncorked the bottle and drank the potion. Then he reached for the Dreamless Sleep Potion, emptied the bottle and lay down in his bed. And the loss stopped hurting when he closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

The day marked an important date – Ginny's first match within the Holyhead Harpies' ranks. Unfortunately Quidditch League was no Hogwarts and Harry could not sneak into the team's locker room to wish his girlfriend best of luck. Additionally, admission was not free, unlike in Hogwarts. Events like this reminded him how much he missed Hogwarts.

Ron arrived at the stadium alongside his parents, George, Percy, and to Harry's surprise – Bill and Fleur. He knew Mrs. and Mr. Weasley would not miss their daughter's debut, but he did not expect her brothers to arrive in such numbers. While it was nice to meet and chat with the members of the clan, he'd rather sit in the stands just with his friends by his side.

'''Arry, 'Ermione! It's so nice to see you!'' Fleur beamed and rushed to greet them with a kiss to cheek. There was something different about her, like some kind of glowing aura, but Harry could not quite put his finger on it. Maybe it were Fleur's robes, a bit more loose than what he usually saw her wear. Or maybe her Veela ancestry was more showing on that day.

In the corner of his vision, Harry spotted Hannah Abbott glaring daggers at Neville, who sighed in disappointment of not having received this kind of greeting from the quarter-Veela.

''How is Ginny? I hope she's not too worried,'' Fleur asked.

''Ginny will be fine. She's been playing with us since we were little kids,'' Bill smiled, wrapping his arm around his wife's lower back and resting his hand on her stomach. Fleur pressed her hand to his.

''Holyhead Harpies could not wish for a better Chaser,'' Harry smirked.

''Oh, I am sure Pride of Portree stand no chance,'' Mrs. Weasley said it like the match was merely a formality, but Harry doubted she was that much into Quidditch to actually make a reasonable assessment.

''Well, last year they defeated the Harpies,'' George notes meanly.

''Last year they didn't have Ginny!'' Mrs. Weasley huffed indignantly.

Harry politely nodded. He loved the Weasleys, they were like a foster family to him, but sometimes they could be too much. Luckily, as they were heading for their seats, it turned out Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had bought theirs in a different sector. The teenagers, including Ron, parted their way with the Weasleys, exchanging the words of support for Ginny.

''Hannah, haven't seen you in a while,'' Luna tilted her head, observing Neville's companion.

''That's true. Actually I haven't seen any of you in a while,'' Hannah smiled abashedly and sat on Neville's right, who was sitting to Luna's right. ''How have you been? I've heard you enrolled Magizoology studies and Harry and Ron the Auror training?''

''You know a lot about us,'' Hermione noted with a pinch of suspicion in her voice as she turned her head to look at Hannah, who was sitting behind her.

Hannah blushed softly and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ''Neville keeps me informed.''

''Oi, weren't you supposed to sit with our parents?'' Ron growled when George sat in a row below his younger brother.

''I was, but I convinced a young wizard to swap our seats,'' George replied nonchalantly and then looked at Harry. ''Don't tell me you're disappointed to see me too, Harry! I already should take it an offence you're visiting the git's shop more often than mine,'' he smirked meanly.

Harry did not know where to look or how to explain his common trips to Severus' apothecary. ''Me? No one said a thing, except for Ron.''

''Mate!'' Ron hissed, elbowing his friend.

''You really should look out or you may find yourself one day... earless,'' George grinned, making a dramatic pause to show his scarred profile. ''So, Harry, Hermione, how do you feel about becoming uncles and aunts?'' he asked out of sudden, in a voice he often used in business transactions.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure if George was in his right mind. ''Whose uncle?'' he asked warily.

''Ron, haven't you told our dear friends? Shame on you, Ron,'' George shook his head in pretended utter disappointment. ''Shame on Ginny too. Fleur's pregnant, haven't you noticed?''

Hermione cleared her throat. ''Well, I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to be intrusive... But why haven't you told us during the Halloween party?'' the girl directed her accusation at one-eared wizard.

''Oh, my charming sister-in-law and not so charming brother shared the news only last week,'' George explained, visibly pleased with himself that he was not at fault for not having passed the news.

''Uh, congrats?'' Harry said. ''And how are your parents?''

''Dad, well, you know him, he's happy, but doesn't show much. Mum, on the other hand... I think Fleur outrun me in mum's personal family ranks,'' Ron grimaced.

George cackled. ''It must have been difficult for our Ronny – mum wouldn't shut up about Ron becoming an Auror trainee since the beginning of October!''

Harry briefly glanced at Hannah, overcome with sympathy for the girl accidentally dragged into the middle of the Weasley clan discussions. ''Guys, let's not talk about it now. The match is about to begin!''

Luna reached into her bag. ''I've prepared posters!'' she said, showing them flashy posters with Holyhead Harpies' logo and Ginny's name on them.

And so the group sat with in their seats, well equipped to show their friend their support. Walking into the pitch, Ginny turned her head, spotting the posters, which were rather hard to miss, and smiled at them. Harry could almost feel her mixture of anxiety and excitement.

The crowd went wild when Ginny scored her first points for the Holyhead Harpies. God, she was amazing, Harry thought, watching her fiery hair being ruffled by the wind.

Sometime around the middle of the match Hannah excused the group with promises of returning in a moment.

''So, what's between you and Hannah?'' Ron asked Neville once the girl outside the hearing range.

''Uh, well... nothing serious. We've caught up with each other few months ago. I suppose we've just been having a lot of good time recently,'' Neville shrugged, doing a poor job of hiding his embarrassment.

Hermione smiled. ''Happy for you.''

''Yes, you two seem happy in each other's company,'' Luna mused. ''Oh, and Harry, I've been thinking about you-know-what and I think it was someone from the Auror Office,'' the girl bent over to whisper to Harry, who was sitting in a row in front of her.

Harry looked doubtfully at Luna. ''It makes no sense!''

''As you should know, the Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy. It should come as no surprise they are after those, who were acquitted by the Wizengamot. Everyone knows the Aurors would gladly throw people into Azkaban without the Wizengamot's rulings,'' Luna pointed out like it was the most reasonable explanation. ''Kingsley becoming the Minister is only another step in their plan.''

The three trainees shot her an incredulous look. Harry recalled Luna having mentioned the conspiracy in the past, but he could not imagine Kingsley or Proudfoot taking part in it even if it the conspiracy were true.

''What makes no sense?'' George asked out of sudden.

''Mind your fuckin' business, George!'' Ron yelled.

''Kingsley voted in his favour,'' Harry pointed out, lowering his voice. He knew George would not understand why they worked on Severus' attacker's case... hell, George probably rooted for the attacker. ''Why would the Aurors be after him then?''

Hermione glanced in George's direction and leant forward to get herself closer to Harry, Luna and Neville. ''It could be some lead. I mean, not necessarily the entire Auror Office, but... Harry you often say you're disappointed in Williamson not working sufficiently on the case. What if an Auror is displeased with the acquittal and Death Eaters being apprehended too slowly, and had taken the case into his hands like we did?'' she said in a hushed voice.

''Sure, plot your schemes without me,'' George said a bit nastily.

''We're not scheming,'' Hermione protested, clearly offended.

However, the reply Ron had went for was a tired ''Like you ever included us in your schemes.''

''Let's discuss it somewhere else,'' Harry pressed, noticing Hannah returning.

Once the Hufflepuff sat beside Neville, Harry focused once again on the game, hoping to be able to watch his girlfriend in peace at last. Unfortunately, the Harpies had lost a hoop to the Prides.

Then Ginny quickly snatched the Quaffle and passed it to the other witch. The Prides tried to stop them. Harry held his breath as the one of Harpies' Chasers lost the Quaffle, but Ginny caught it, before the Prides could get to it. The purple team tried to stop Ginny, but she spun like a drill and threw the Quaffle to one of her teammates, before they could take over the Quaffle. The Harpies were unstoppable in their race and while this time it was not Ginny to score the Harpies some points, he was happy for his girlfriend's teamwork. The work of Seekers, Keepers and Beaters of both teams was admirable too, but Ginny was too magnificent to look in any other direction. With the corner of his eye Harry spied Mrs. Weasley sitting on the edge of her seat and smirked knowingly.

Finally, after a thrilling chase, the Harpies' Seeker caught the Golden Snitch. The crowd looked at the scoreboard and the parts of the stands adorned in green went wild, especially the parts taken by the Weasley clan. Hermione clapped loudly and Harry screamed, mostly his girlfriend's name, until his throat hurt.

Mrs. Weasley found the group as they were leaving the stadium. ''Oh, Ginny was marvelous, wasn't she? Have you seen her? I have to congratulate my girl!''

''Mum, Ginny's probably changing now,'' Ron pointed out tiredly as George whispered behind his back.

''Somebody's jealous...'' George singsonged quietly in hopes of his mother not hearing him.

''And you, George,'' Mrs. Weasley sneered, waving her finger at her one-eared son.

''Now, Molly,'' Mr. Weasley patted his wife's shoulder. ''I think we can both agree that at George's age we'd rather sit with our friends than with our own parents.''

''That was rude! Not only to us, but also to your brothers and Fleur! That's not how we raised you!'' Mrs. Weasley said indignantly.

George tilted his head. ''I'm sorry, Ron. I think it means you're not my brother,'' he whispered theatrically.

''Hey, George, you know that's not what I meant!'' Mrs. Weasley protested.

''I, for one, did not feel offended,'' Percy said.

George blinked at him, not having expected a back up from him. ''See, mum, if Percy doesn't mind it's totally fiiine.''

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks and laughed. ''Yes, no offence taken.''

Then Molly Weasley abruptly turned around, having spotted her daughter leave Harpies' locker room and rushed to her. ''Ginny, my dear, you were amazing! Dad and I are so proud!'' she uttered, locking her daughter in an embrace.

Harry smiled warmly at the sight and Ginny's complete embarrassment of her mum's behaviour in front of the entire Holyhead Harpies team, split between second-hand embarrassment and a hidden wish that his dad hugged him like that. He softly shook his head at such a silly idea, Severus wasn't a person to show his affection so easily and freely.

''Mum, I gotta go,'' Ginny mumbled, being squeezed by Molly.

''And why is that? I thought you'd be coming with us,'' Mrs. Weasley protested, letting her daughter free at last to give her a disapproving look.

''We've got a party to celebrate,'' Ginny tilted her head in the team's direction.

''Ah, I see. Don't take too long, dear,'' Mrs. Weasley smiled.

Mr. Weasley joined his wife. ''Good job, Ginny. Well, Molly, I think it's time to go,'' he announced, most likely to save his daughter some embarrassment.

The Weasleys, said their goodbyes, Bill and Fleur were congratulated on the expected bundle of joy by Hermione and Harry and the majority of redheads left, leaving only Ginny and Ron.

''Sorry, my mum can be a lot sometimes,'' Ginny cringed.

''I think she was pretty sweet. I remember my own mum after my debut... mums are like that,'' Gwenog Jones said. ''But I'd love to meet your friends.''

Ginny swiftly moved to Harry's side. ''Well, this is my boyfriend, Harry. You may have heard about him, he was a captain of the Gryffindor team. He's also known for some less remarkable deeds, like defeating Voldemort,'' she smirked slyly. ''This is my brother, Ron-''

''Sure, start with Harry,'' Ron muttered.

''Harry's more special – after all I've got only one boyfriend and many brothers, don't I? And this is Hermione, our smartass friend and Ron's girlfriend. And this is Neville, he killed Nagini. This is Luna, she's supersmart and will become the greatest Magizoologist one day. And this is Hannah... she fought in the battle of Hogwarts,'' Ginny added after a second, not being as familiar with Hannah as with the rest of the group. ''Neville and Hannah were Harry, Ron and Hermione's classmates, while Luna was my classmate.''

''You seem a fun bunch, we won't mind your company, will we team?'' Gwenog asked. The answer was a joyous call from the Harpies.

And so Harry found himself attending a Quidditch match afterparty with professional Quidditch players. He had rubbed shoulders with some World Cup players, especially one Viktor Krum, but he's never been so close to so many professional players at once.

''Ronald!'' Hermione hissed, when Ron's gaze travelled to bust of one of the players. Harry had to admit it was a rather admirable bust.

''Harry, I'm not gonna take you to parties anymore if you can't behave,'' Ginny noted, however, unlike Hermione, she seemed amused.

Harry coughed his drink and cleared his throat. ''Right, sorry.''

He set his glass aside, noticing his spit sliding down the glass. Had his dad used his saliva? Harry wondered, watching the spit gravitate towards the table. The question had been bugging him since the conversation concerning the antidote, but Severus needed the time to brew the potion... and how the hell does one ask such a question without making it uncomfortable for everyone?

''Ew, Harry, you're gross,'' Hermione grimaced at the glass covered in contents coughed up by Harry.

''So you guys are Auror trainees like Neville?'' Hannah asked, despite having tackled the subject earlier that day.

''Yup,'' Ron said proudly.

''But unlike Neville we started only recently, you know, we had to finish our education,'' Harry noted.

''One more year at Hogwarts would be fun... except for the N.E.W.T.s,'' Hannah mused. ''You know, it would be nice to hold our year group's meeting some day.''

Luna tilted her head. ''Oh, we could host one too! Since Harry, Ron and Hermione repeated their seventh year, they belong to our year group as well, don't you think, Ginny?''

''Haven't you thought about helping Aurors before enrolling the training like Neville had? They wouldn't have said 'no' to you,'' Hannah wondered.

''Sometimes I think I should've,'' Ron complained. ''Neville got to chase Death Eaters and all we've got are boring classes about history of Dark Arts.''

''Field Training isn't that bad,'' Harry disagreed.

''True, but you're privileged. Your tutor already takes you to missions! O'Doherty only makes me fill her paperwork,'' Ron whined.

''Actually, Proudfoot shouldn't take Harry to missions yet – the Auror Training Programme Statute provides that the trainees may take part in them starting from their second year,'' Hermione pointed out.

---

''Do I have something on my face?'' Harry asked, bringing Severus back to the conversation at hand. Harry's fingers wandering up to touch the scar on the boy's forehead alerted the former spy at first, awaking old fear of the Dark Lord's return, but he quickly connected the motion to the question.

''As far as my eyes do not deceive me, you do not, why?'' Severus slightly raised his eyebrows to put an emphasis to his own question.

''You were staring at me like there was something on my face,'' Harry replied.

''I am certain I was not staring at you, Harry,'' Severus silkily refuted the accusation. He would be caught dead admitting that his gaze lingered on his son's face for too long. Since he had reclaimed his memories the thoughts of could-have-beens plagued his mind and when his eyes stopped to meet his son's ones, he had a feeling that if he tried hard enough he would be able to see Harry's face past the deceitful phenotype altering potion. He was a fool for dwelling on such a useless subject, he knew that, but he was only a human, after all. Past him would have ridiculed him for that, having thought himself prone to the pathetic need to see some of his own qualities in his child. Well, unknowingly to Harry, the Gryffindor had pulverised that particular Severus' belief of himself.

''You were, dad,'' Harry repeated and there was something childlike in his voice, that made Severus think of a child complaining. ''I mean you often stare at me, but usually it's something like...'' Harry hung his voice to make a tired face. ''or...'' Harry rolled his eyes to show what Severus supposed to be an unamused expression. ''and this time you were more like...'' Harry narrowed his eyes and slightly raised his eyebrow.

It probably did not depict him in a good light that he apparently tended to look at his child with some sort of negative expression on his face, Severus mused. ''How lucky I am that my son not only saved the wizardkind, but is also a gifted actor,'' he deadpanned.

''With that attitude you could eke out a living on comedianship,'' Harry returned the pleasantries in the equal amount. Frankly, Severus would have wished to see some of his more positive qualities in Harry rather than his sarcasm.

''I assure you I more than eke out a living on my apothecary,'' Severus noted smoothly and reached for his cup of tea.

The odious house elf walked in and collected empty dishes from the table, throwing hostile glances in Severus' direction when Harry was not looking. In exchange, Severus watched the house elf with a healthy amount of disdain, glad that he had persuaded Harry into ordering the elf to never speak a word of Severus and Harry's relationship without a clear permission. The creature could not be trusted.

Ah, yes, 12 Grimmauld Place. Severus could not say he had missed it, but it was highly irrational to keep refusing paying Harry a visit when the boy visited him nearly on daily basis. The house was still as unwelcoming as he had remembered it as if it had set its mind on making his life miserable in the mutt's stead. He half-expected Walburga's painting to yell its standard colourful invectives any second now.

''You're terribly absend-minded today. You're OK?'' Harry dropped the playful sarcasm in favour of concern.

''You do not need to worry. I don't think these are early signs of dementia in my case,'' Severus said as his sight stopped on Harry's face once more. The phenotype potion had worked much better than he had anticipated, perhaps due to all pureblood families being related mitigating the fact that James Potter and he were not so closely related. However, there were things the potion did not manage to hide. ''Have you always had the birthmark on your arm?''

Harry cocked his head at the seemingly an apropos of nothing question. ''As far as I remember, yeah. Why?''

''My father had a similar mark on his own arm.''

''Really? Cool!'' Harry's eyes lit up at the discovery he had something in common with his paternal ancestors, much to Severus' incomprehension. The Slytherin would have rather not resembled his father in any way. ''So you've drunk... The question was related to the potion?'' Harry asked clumsily, embarrassedly fidgeting with his fingers, while his eyes radiated pure curiosity.

''Yes, I have and yes, it was what prompted my question,'' Severus replied shortly. He should probably aim at being more open with his child, especially about Lily, considering that it had been his fault that Harry had not got the change to know Lily. However, he did not feel ready to discuss that subject yet. He did not know if he would be ever ready.

Harry's lips curled up in a shy smile. ''Happy for you,'' he said it sincerely, making Severus glad the boy turned out more like Lily.

Severus cleared his throat. ''I suppose I should congratulate you on Ms. Weasley's acclaimed debut in the Hollyhead Harpies.''

Harry looked curiously at his dad. ''I thought you weren't into Quidditch. And you can just call her Ginny, you know.''

''You are correct, I don't tend to waste my free time on analysing how the ranks in the Quidditch League change, however, it's a piece of news that is hard to miss – your girlfriend's stunt was present all over the media. Now you probably find yourself wishing you have pursued that career as well,'' Severus raised an eyebrow.

Harry smirked. ''Weren't you lately complaining that I was going to ruin my future if I got myself sacked from the training? Back to not wanting me to become an Auror already, dad?''

Severus scoffed. Whatever interrogation techniques Harry was taught in his training, he was improving, even if slowly. ''I merely would prefer that you stopped throwing youself into harm's way every moment you have like it is a special interest of yours. Speaking of which, both Quidditch and Auror career can be dangerous. However, since you have made your choice, I will not have you wasting your potential.''

''Aw, it's so sweet when you care,'' Harry faux-cooed. ''Won't catch me complaining if you do it more often.''

Severus exhaled slowly and went for another sip of tea lest he said something he was going to regret later. People endured years of this with multiple children? One would think that managing your own child would be easier than managing dozens of ther people's brats.

Chapter Text

Severus got up and after a quick shower went to the kitchen. He brewed himself a cup of coffee. While usually wizards and witches who did not own a house elf employed spells while brewing tea or coffee, Severus preferred brewing them by hand, just like he did with his potions.

Having finished his breakfast, he Apparated in front of his shop to the sight of 'Traitor', 'Die' and in smaller writing 'By buying in this place you are supporting a traitor' written across the storefront. Severus looked at grafitti like he had used to look at some of the most annoying students. At this point acts of petty vandalism that his storefront was forced to endure were getting repetitive. If the author of the scribbles wanted to offend him, they at very least could try something more creative – Severus was welcomed by a 'Traitor' written on his shop usually once a week. Sometimes Severus felt an urge to write below the word a request for the author to elaborate from whom it had come as the accusation could have been directed at Severus from the both sides of the war.

The wizard had mentioned the recurring grafitti to Williamson. Not because he had felt threatened by the grafitti, but because Harry had pressured him into reporting it that one time the boy had stumbled across threats written on the storefront. Moreover, Severus could not rule out the possibility of the assailant being enough of an utter moron to be the author of the scribbles. However, as he had been informed by Williamson, currently a relation between the attack and grafitti could not be drawn, so Severus simply decided to ignore grafitti.

Severus waved his wand, banishing the grafitti and walked in.

Fifteen minutes after opening he was already longing for the lunch break. Man could answer as moronic questions as whether a Calming Draught or a Potion for Dreamless Sleep would be more beneficial for the customer only so many times, alongside being exposed to lifestories of his customers that he could not care less for.

''Ms. Hexsmith, I thought you achieved an 'E' your Potions N.E.W.T.,'' Severus could not deny himself the small pleasure of raising an eyebrow at his former student, when the witch asked whether she could substitute scarab beetles with common dung beetles for the Wit-Sharpening Potion.

Finally the clock struck one P.M. and Severus turned the sign in the storefront to 'closed'. Having sat behind the counter, he Accio'ed his lunch, savouring the silence that fell in the room. As he was halfway through his meal, the bell rang and Draco walked in.

''Draco, cannot you read? The shop is closed,'' Severus greeted him tiredly.

''The door wasn't closed,'' Draco pointed out.

''Because usually a sign 'closed' is enough to stop people from walking in,'' Severus replied silkily. ''Is there something that requires an immediate intervention on my part? In case you haven't noticed, I am busy right now. Furthermore, I would like to remind you to heed caution when leaving your home.''

''Mother sent me to get a Cure for Boils and wouldn't stop nagging about father having got himself infected. You know she will not give me a rest until I return with the potion. And it's you who had been stabbed, not me,'' Draco did not seem affected by Severus' scolding in the slightest. It was probably for the better that Harry and Draco effectively avoided each other. Otherwise, the chances, nay, the danger of them joining their forces to keep Severus confined to the Spinner's End would be significant.

''Ah, so it can wait, then,'' Severus said with a sarcastic glint in his eyes.

''Would it kill you to sell me the potion since I'm already here?'' Draco asked impatiently.

''No, I don't think selling you the Cure for Boils would speed up my demise,'' Severus said flatly. ''Nevertheless, I intend to respect my lunch break.''

''And when your break ends?''

Severus cast a clock charm. ''In eight minutes.''

Draco scoffed. ''Fine. I'll look for the cure myself,'' he said turning around.

Severus with some dose of amusement watched the blonde browse the display, going through various potions, ointments and draughts.

Draco grabbed a bottle of the Cure for Boils and watched it. ''You know, Snape, your prices are astronomical,'' he grimaced, noticing the price tag.

''I assure you they are perfectly reasonable,'' Severus said, getting back to his half-eaten lunch. After taking a bite, he cast a warming charm on his meal, having decided it had gone too cold for his taste.

''Didn't it cost like ten Sickles-?'' Draco frowned.

''And when was that? Before the war? One word, Draco: inflation,'' Severus said drily.

The bell rang again, drawing Severus attention to the door. It must have finally come to this – people apparently have lost their ability to read if they fancied walking into a shop with a 'closed' sign in such numbers. Not that Severus was particularly surprised with this discovery, having already suspected it through the years of teaching at Hogwarts.

However, his annoyance at the spreading illiteracy quickly faded away as the door opened, but no one walked in. Harry had no need to enter the apothecary hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, therefore it was either a prank or...

''Draco, Apparate away!'' Severus hollered. The boy looked at his teacher, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, but Severus did not have the time to explain. ''Flee!'' he shouted.

He had not caught the glimpse of the attacker the last time, so it came as no surprise that they most likely were utilising some sort of masking charm or invisibility clothing. Severus' body tensed as he was trying to assess the distance between him and the masked comer. Fighting against an opponent that you cannot see was a greatly disadvantegous position. However if it was indeed the attacker who had walked in, they were utterly stupid to enter Severus' own shop.

Crouching behind the counter, the wizard caught mid-flight a pouch of powdered root of Asphodel that he had Accio'ed from the backroom laboratory, which he then prompty threw at the middle of the shop. As the trajectory of the pouch reached its highest point, Severus torn it apart with a spell, enveloping the room in the powder.

Coughing fits spread across the shop. Severus focused on the coughs that did not belong to Draco. He rose slightly over the counter, his eyes drifting to the source of the sound and all of his senses on the highest alert for any sign of incoming attack. Naturally, he still could not see the comer, as masking means of their choice made the powder that had fallen onto them invisible as well, but they must have felt Severus' sight on them as they moved their feet. A mistake. Their footprints left their mark in the powder on the floor.

Severus swiftly waved his wand, casting a non-verbal Petrificus Totalus. No later than five seconds, a sharp clatter of knife and a flat thud against the floor followed. The wizard cast Anti-Invisibility Spell where the attacker had fallen, but the attacker did not appear. Not an Invisibility Spell, then. Severus cautiously approached the spot from which the powder had been blown away by the impact of the fall, fully aware it could have been a deception. He kicked the knife out of the assailant's reach and glared daggers at Draco, who was hiding in a narrow space between two displays, for still being present in the shop. A step further his foot met an object he could not see. He gingerly lowered himself and touched the body on the floor, looking for masking clothing. It certainly was not a cloak as he could not see the attacker's feet. Finally his fingers found the head and on it a hat that he yanked away sharply, revealing a brown-haired wizard around his late twenties, who despite being temporarily paralised, stared at Severus hatefully.

''You've done an awfully lousy job at catching me off guard this time, Scrivenshaft,'' Severus said harshly. ''And you, Draco,'' he turned to face the blonde. ''May I ask what are you still doing here? I told you to Apparate, haven't I?'' he grimaced, baring his crooked teeth, irritated beyond reason. Why none of brats listened to him when he ordered them to run for their lives?

''Well, maybe I wouldn't need to Apparate if you had started locking the fucking door!'' Draco yelled, doing a poor job of hiding how stressed he was.

''Yes, perhaps I should,'' Severus sneered. ''Which does not change the fact I told you repeatedly to stay vigilant, but you are as careless as when you were a student,'' he barked as memories of Draco's attempts at Dumbledore's life arrived without an invitation. ''You were most likely followed.''

''I was not followed! Everyone knows where your shop is, Snape!'' Draco argued, stepping from his hiding spot.

''You do seem to forget that you match his victims' profile, which makes you a likely target,'' Severus said coldly.

''Said the man who was literally stabbed and keeps running an apothecary everyone writes about!'' Draco gritted his teeth.

Severus scowled at the younger Slytherin, but did not argue further. Instead he called the Auror Office.

Maybe few minutes later the room resounded with two snaps of Apparition.

''Sweet Merlin, what happened here, Snape?'' Proudfoot asked, taking in the sight of the shop covered in a layer of powdered Asphodel root.

Severus, however, was not listening as his sight landed on his son. Of course Harry had to be the one to arrive at the scene, he noted bitterly. Then he realised it easily could have been Harry with Proudfoot instead of O'Doherty to arrive to the stabbing. His chest tightened at the thought of Harry being the one to see him stabbed to death and he was thankful for his child having been spared the sight.

Harry darted a terrified look at the man on the floor and the knife and then his eyes focused on his father. ''Dad! Are you alright?!'' he asked panicked as he latched himself onto the former spy.

''Yes, I am alright. There is no need to worry, Harry,'' Severus replied stiffly as Harry's hands squeezed his arms, probably looking for possible wounds. He felt the weight of everybody's eyes on him and his son, who remained ignorant to the confusion he had caused in three other people in the room.

''Are-Are you sure? Maybe we should use a diagnostic spell?'' Harry asked hurriedly.

''I'm fine. I promise,'' Severus said firmly. ''Scrivenshaft was foolish enough to think I was not going to use the space I know to my advantage.''

''Potter, you may release Snape,'' Proudfoot ordered tiredly. ''He does not seem to be in any kind of immediate danger.'' He took a step towards Severus, holding a notepad. ''You called him by his last name. I assume you know the man?'' he adressed Severus in a professional manner.

As soon as Harry let go of his dad, his sight once again landed on the attacker. And in his eyes, his beautiful green eyes Severus recognised an emotion that had burnt onto his memories for the rest of eternity for Harry had once directed it at him. An emotion that had been enough to push the boy to attempt Unforgiveables at Severus: flaming, unadulterated hatred. Severus' guts twisted and he felt the taste of bile on his tongue. This wonderful, amazing child should not be capable of such a wretched emotion.

Severus cleared his throat. ''Yes, I do. In the fact I know nearly every British witch and wizard from age of twelve to thirty-four,'' he deadpanned. ''Rufus Scrivenshaft is a Hufflepuff. If I do recall correctly, he graduated from Hogwarts ten years ago. I cannot say he was a particularly gifted student.''

''And do you know why he is after you?'' Proudfoot asked, waiting for an answer to note down.

''Nothing in particular comes to my mind. As far I am concerned, he did not actively take part in the war and did not work for either of sides,'' Severus recalled.

''And you, Malfoy... did you notice something out of ordinary?'' Proudfoot turned towards Draco.

Draco's lips twisted scornfully. ''Aside from the guy walking under a disguise of an invisibility hat, I did not see anything.''

The Auror looked unamusedly at the blonde. ''Right. Were you followed perhaps?''

''By a man in an invisibility hat? I don't know. Maybe,'' Draco replied nastily.

Severus found Draco's demeanour relatable, taking into account the idiotic question asked by the Auror. However, he was not as much interested in Proudfoot's questions and Draco's answers as in stopping Harry from trying to murder the attacker with his stare. He had a hard time coming up with a way of diverting his son's attention from the wizard on the floor. Not so long ago he would have made some humiliating remark, a thing he found currently unimaginable. On the other hand, more amicable way of approaching his son was not really an option, considering that they were not alone... but then, hadn't Harry already disclosed their secret the second he appeared in the shop?

''Harry, you've got powdered Asphodel root on your robes,'' Severus said, choosing a third option.

The Gryffindor looked confusedly at his dad and then at himself, noticing brown powder. ''So you do... and everything else in here,'' the boy scrunched up his nose. Severus had an urge to point out that Proudfoot was in the fact the only person not covered in the powder, but ultimately decided against it.

''Good observation, Potter. Those skills are gonna get you far in your training,'' Draco rolled his eyes, no longer being able to ignore the elephant in the room that was his school rival.

''Draco,'' Severus lowered his voice in a warning.

''Actually, it was smart move with the powder, Snape,'' Proudfoot chimed in amids taking notes of the scene.

''Years of spyhood have taught me to think on my feet,'' Severus replied silkily, but it seemed that the sarcasm went over the Auror's head.

''Alright,'' Proudfoot said, stashing his notes and quill. ''That will be all for now. Someone from the Auror Office is going to contact you, Williamson most likely. Come, Potter, help me with Scrivenshaft.''

Harry grimaced furiously, packing the knife into an evidence bag he had procured and grabbed the paralised attacker by his feet. ''Take care, dad,'' he said, throwing Severus one more glance before Disapparating.

Severus felt his jaw tense at the word spoken so freely among people who should not possess the information. ''You too, Harry,'' he replied and watched the boy disappear with a snap.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the older Slytherin once the Auror and the trainee left. ''You have adopted Potter or what?''

Severus exhaled tiredly. Of course it had to come to this. He did not even want to consider how quickly Narcissa and Lucius were going to hear of this. ''Harry is an adult, therefore I cannot adopt him,'' he pointed out smoothly.

''But you don't find the idea absurd altogether, do you?'' Draco observed. ''You even call him by his first name... Potter, out of all people! You have gone soft, Snape,'' he scoffed.

''Midlife crisis will do that to you,'' Severus deadpanned, uncomfortable at Draco having seen through him so easily. And yet... it did not feel entirely wrong that it apparently was easy to guess what Harry meant to him even if Severus had no intention of showing it to outside observers. Moreover, Draco was right – the idea did not seem absurd or repulsive at all, although it was impossible from the legal standpoint.

---

Nothing had foreshadowed such an emotionally straining day. Harry started with Stealth and Tracking, which was rather fun. Actually it reminded Harry of the game of hide-and-seek as the trainees had been divided into two groups. At first Harry and Maria were supposed to utilise stealth spells and Ron and Berenice were supposed ot track them down and in the second half of the class their roles were swapped. Afterwards they had a lunch break when they met with Neville and later they headed for their time under watchful eyes of their tutors. Ron looked rather miserable at the prospect of spending rest of the day with O'Doherty. Harry, however, was not sure what to expect – sometimes Proudfoot tortured him with arranging his files, sometimes he took Harry to some field work.

Proudfoot opened a large cabinet to show Harry even more notes of his tutor. The task was utterly mind-numbing and to Harry's horror, it never seemed to end to the extend it made the boy question if by chance a jinx had not been employed.

A witch from the Office secretariat entered Proudfoot's office when Harry was losing his patience on a folder he could have sworn he had arranged only last week. ''I knew I wouldn't be interrupting anything important,'' she said relieved. ''You need to go in Williamson's place, he's already on a mission now.''

''Now, that's an unfair judgement of our work,'' Proudfoot noted light-heartedly.

Red light flashed in Harry's mind as soon as he heard the Auror's name. His frightful mind suggested that one of the missions – either the one Williamson was busy with or the one they were supposed to substitute for him could be his dad's case. But he did not feel anything that would indicate his dad having got hurt... ''Where?'' Harry blurted out.

''Hold your hippogriffs, Potter!'' Proudfoot chuckled. ''Swordbane knows how to do her job.''

The witch handed the Auror a parchment. ''43 Knockturn Alley-''

''Apothecary!'' Harry called overcome with dread. Was there another attack? But why? He did not feel anything! Dad surely had not undone the spell, having voiced his opinion on the matter numerous times... Harry would have felt something if anything happened to Severus!

''Yes, Snape's apothecary. He is the one to request assistance from an Auror,'' Swordbane explained. ''He says he caught the culprit.''

''Thank you, Swordbane. On our way already,'' Proudfoot said and prompty Apparated.

Harry, however, did not get to hear his tutor's last words, not having waited for a command. He appeared in his dad's shop to the sight of the place being all covered in brown powder. His ears registered another snap of Apparition, belonging to his tutor. However, Harry paid no mind to it as his eyes locked with his dad's ones. Severus appeared all hale and hearty, but eyes could mislead.

''Sweet Merlin, what happened here, Snape?'' Proudfoot said incredulously.

Harry blinked and looked at the man lying paralised on the floor, only now registering his presence. His breath sped up as his eyes moved to a knife few meters away from the man. Before his brain even had the time to process the fact that the knife was free of any blood, his sight set once more on his dad.

''Dad! Are you alright?!'' Harry asked, running to meet the former spy. His hands found Severus' arms and started examinating them.

''Yes, I am alright. There is no need to worry, Harry,'' Severus assured.

''Are-Are you sure? Maybe we should use a diagnostic spell?'' Harry asked.

''I'm fine. I promise. Scrivenshaft was foolish enough to think I was not going to use the space I know to my advantage.'' Severus answered a bit harshly.

''Potter, you may release Snape. He does not seem to be in any kind of immediate danger,'' the Auror noted and then started asking about the man on the floor.

Harry let go of his dad, taken aback by the man's unwelcoming posture. Severus looked cold and calculated, as if Harry's concern meant nothing to him. Harry swallowed, trying to suppress the sense of rejection building up in his chest and glared at the wizard on the floor again.

So it was him, the person who nearly had taken Severus away from Harry? The man was a pitiful sight, lying paralised on the floor with the realisation of his defeat painted all over his face. A pathetic coward stabbing unsuspecting people while hiding under an invisibility hat. Harry clenched his fists and it that very moment he hated the man. He hated him like he had hated Bellatrix when her spell had made Sirius tumble backwards through the veil. Like he had hated... No!, Harry barked at himself in his mind and shook his head, stopping that thought from forming properly.

He wanted the attacker to suffer... suffer like Harry had. He wanted him to know how it felt like to lose your guardians and protectors one by one by one. He wanted him to feel the depths of Harry's despair from the time he had demolished Dumbledore's office.

And most importantly he wanted, no, he needed to know why.

''Harry, you've got powdered Asphodel root on your robes,'' Severus said out of the blue.

Harry tilted his head at his dad in confusion and then looked down at his robes. Indeed, his robes had brownish stains on them that weren't there few minutes ago, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. ''So you do... and everything else in here,'' he pointed out.

''Good observation, Potter. Those skills are gonna get you far in your training,'' Harry heard a ridiculing voice he had not missed. Draco. Between Severus and the attacker Harry had not found enough brainpower to pay attention to Draco's presence until now. And out of all things, he did not wish to speak to the blonde, so his gaze fixed on the knife.

The object was all too familiar. He would never forget the hours upon hours spent cutting vegetables with the same exact knife belonging to aunt Petunia, but he could not recall the first time his aunt had tasked him cutting vegetables... he must have been a small child back then. The thought that he could not imagine Mrs. Weasley or Severus leaving a small child alone with such a big knife (and not only they would not give a knife to a child, they would have been absolutely horrified to see a child carry a knife, Harry was sure of that), reminded him how fucked up childhood he had had. Not it was a groundbreaking notion, but it was not something Harry thought about on daily basis... Actually, the more time passed, the less he thought about it and he did not like being reminded.

Aunt Petunia would have yelled at Harry everytime the knife had gone dull. Back then Harry had thought it had been yet another way his aunt had tormented him, but now he thought it plausible that his accidental magic could have played its role.

Harry conjured a bag for evidence and picked the knife up when Proudfoot decided to call the mission a day. Harry put the knife into the bag and approached the attacker. He grabbed the paralised wizard by his legs, uncaring if he had done it not too gently and having said goodbye to his dad, Disapparated.

''Next time wait for my orders, Potter,'' Proudfoot shot Harry a disapproving look when they appeared back in the Auror Headquarters. ''It is reckless to go on a mission before getting to hear all the details.''

''But there were no more details,'' Harry huffed in protest.

''Nevertheless, I expect this to be the last time, am I clear?''

''Yes, sir,'' Harry replied reluctantly.

Proudfoot cast a Levitating charm on Scrivenshaft, taking him to the temporary detention room.

''So what's hapenning now? Are we going to interrogate him?'' Harry asked, keeping his voice even. However, his body was alight at the prospect of finally getting the answer from the attacker.

''Interrogate him?'' Proudfoot snorted. ''No, we are going to lock him up and Williamson is going to take over from there. We only substitute for our fellow Aurors on their cases in urgent matters. Interrogating Scrivenshaft does not appear an urgent matter.'' Noticing that Harry was not satisfied with the answer, Proudfot added in a hushed tone. ''Let him spend some time in the detention room, it makes some good to apprehendees' characters. They are much more talkative after few hours in custody... and waiting in jail for their trial sometimes does wonders,'' he looked knowingly at his trainee.

''But maybe I could sit in the corner and observe Williamson? You know, for training purposes!'' Harry argued.

''Williamson has his own trainee, Potter,'' Proudfoot's voice suggested he did not like where the conversation was heading.

''We were the ones to arrive there! Shouldn't we be the ones to ask questions? How is Williamson going to ask reasonable questions about today's, uh, attack?''

''That is why I made sure to make thorough notes on the scene.''

''And... and what about the knife?'' Harry asked, raising the evidence bag to their faces, running out of ideas how to convince his tutor let him stay for the interrogation.

''What about it?'' Proudfoot frowned.

''It's a muggle knife! My-uhm, my aunt used to own the same model... she's a muggle,'' Harry explained hurriedly.

Proudfoot pondered for a moment. ''That is an interesting observation, Potter. I'll be sure to pass it to Williamson.'' Then the Auror abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked Harry into his eyes. ''Look, Potter, I don't know what's between you and Snape, and that's none of my business, but we are professionals. Whatever your personal feelings are involved in the case, you need to leave them out of it. You seem to have a hard time doing that, so I will not recommend Williamson that you assist him during the interrogation.''

Harry accepted his defeat, having no chance of winning the argument. As soon as Scrivenshaft was locked in the detention room, Proudfoot and Harry returned to the Auror's office. Stacks of notes looked even more loathsome than before the mission, so Harry made sure to radiate as much negative energy during the task as possible. As soon as he was released from his duty and set free for the day, he returned to the shop.

Naturally, Severus was to be found serving customers. No speck of powdered Asphodel root was to be seen, as if nothing eventful had transpired.

''Not a day off for Severus Snape, even if he nearly got himself stabbed again,'' Harry crossed his arms.

''Scrivenshaft was apprehended, was he not?'' Severus replied silkily.

''Maybe he works in a group? There could be more of them!'' Harry pointed out.

''Harry, don't start it,'' Severus' voice was warning.

''Don't start what, dad? Why can't you just go back home and make sure you are safe?'' Harry leant over the counter to face his dad closer. The brief tenseness of Severus' jaw muscles did not escape his notice.

''I think I should be the one asking what in Merlin's beard were you doing on a mission not even two months after your training had started, but of course it comes as no surprise the Auror Department is willing to throw some fresh blood into hazardous settings,'' Severus' voice was laced with venomous sarcasm, but Harry only looked at him unamusedly. The Slytherin sighed. ''If you insist on having this conversation, let's not hold it here,'' he said and waved at his son to follow him to the backroom. ''I understand that you are stressed by today events,'' he said when the door closed behind them. ''That is a perfectly natural reaction. Nevertheless, it is of no use to keep wallowing in anxiety once the danger has passed. Scrivenshaft was apprehended. He is going to face trial and most likely will be locked up in Azkaban for a homicide and for an attempted homicide. End of story.''

''You don't know that! What if there are others?'' Harry asked desperately, needing to beat some reason into his dad's skull.

''There always could be more to come. However, I do not intend to shake and cower at the prospect. I refuse to accept such a pathetic existence,'' Severus pressed. ''But that's not all that's bothering you, Harry, is it?'' he asked as Harry threw him a glare.

''Nothing's bothering me, dad. Everything's dandy!'' Harry sneered. What a stupid question! And there was that slight move of Severus' jaw again. Harry could no longer pretend it did not suspiciously correlate with the use of word 'dad' outside the Spinner's End. ''Changed your mind already, dad?'' he put an emphasis on the last word, narrowing his eyes and glaring accusation at his father.

Severus slightly raised his eyebrows, signaling his befuddlement. ''Care to elaborate?''

Harry huffed indignantly. There was no way his dad did not know what he was getting at. ''The look on your face when I called you 'dad' in front of the others.''

''Ah, so that is what is bothering you. No, I have not changed my mind,'' Severus waved his hand like it was a matter of lesser importance and turned around, probably thinking of heading back for his shop. Oh, he was not running away from this conversation.

''Really? I know you didn't want me to call you that way,'' Harry said harshly.

Severus looked at his son. ''I did not say such a thing, Harry,'' he said forcefully.

Harry sneered. ''You didn't have to – I saw that. I'm sorry, Severus, I think I got confused there for a moment... I thought you would be 'flattered' if I called you 'dad','' he mimicked the quotation marks on 'flattered' and gave a venomous tint to his father's name. The quiver of the corners of Severus' lips disclosed that the accusation stung him. Good, maybe he still cares, Harry thought narrowing his eyes.

''You know well that information could be easily abused by other people,'' Severus pointed out coldly.

''You said I was free to share the information with whomever I please!''

''Yes. However, I also advised caution with whom you share the information, in case you forgot,'' the calmness of Severus' voice infuriated Harry only further. It sounded as if Severus was trying to distance himself from Harry... like he didn't care he wounded him with his rejection.

''You know, when you agreed to being called... 'dad', you should've said it's only acceptable when it's only two of us,'' the boy hated the tiny tremor in his voice when he said the word at question. He awaited Severus' retort, a verdict, some sort of correction, confining the use of the word only to the private settings. It would have been a betrayal on Severus' side, but it would have been better than the silence that had fallen. ''So, which one it is? Which one it is, Severus?!'' Harry demanded. The Slytherin's eyes widened, but this time there was more anger in them than hurt. The flash in Severus' eyes made Harry think of the time when Severus had told him not to call him a coward. ''What, are you ashamed of our relationship since you need to keep it secret so much?!''

''I am not ashamed of our blood bond,'' Severus said slowly and raised his hand, signaling Harry to let him finish. ''And before you accuse me of such a thing, I am not ashamed of you either – quite the contrary.''

Harry stared at his father, caught off guard by the confession. He yearned to get the man say all of it, instead of hiding behind implications, but he was not going to lower himself to being so needy. ''Then why?'' he asked angrily.

Severus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. ''You must be aware that revealing the truth to the world is going to affect your mother's reputation.''

''I don't think she'd care,'' Harry frowned. It couldn't be the real reason behind his dad's disapproval.

Severus licked his lips before he set his mind on reply. ''You didn't get to know her, Harry.'' The Slytherin's voice was firm, but Harry caught some strands of sorrow and grief in there.

Harry wrinkled up his nose in disagreement. Maybe he didn't get to know his mum, but from the short interactions with her reflection that had emerged from Voldemort's wand in the cemetery and with her when he had used the resurrection stone, he was certain she wouldn't oppose his wishes in this regard.

''Unfortunately, the optimal solution is out of reach,'' said Severus.

''Which is?'' Harry asked sharply. Wouldn't his his dad not weirding out when called 'dad' in public be the optimal solution?

''You are an adult, therefore I cannot adopt you,'' Severus explained.

The idea hadn't crossed Harry's mind, but now he had to admit the solution would have let them have a cake and eat it too. ''Then tell people you've unofficially adopted me if it makes you feel better,'' he said flatly, realising he said it in a similar manner to his dad. Damn, his dad was really rubbing off on him.

Severus considered the suggestion for a moment and nodded. ''Yes, I believe it should satisfy us both... son,'' he added with a tiny little grimace on his face that Harry learnt to recognise as a smile, probably offering it as an olive branch. ''And... Harry?'' he asked carefully, hesitation visible in his movement as he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. ''Try not to think too much about what happened today, could you? If you need to, I can provide you with the Calming Draught.''

''Thanks, I'm good,'' Harry looked away, slightly embarrassed, longing rather for a hug than for the potion.

Chapter Text

''We've caught the attacker,'' Harry said, clearly dissatisfied with now-useless board with clues.

''That's wonderful!'' Hermione applauded and Ginny congratulated her boyfriend.

''But that's good news, isn't it?'' Ron frowned, noticing Harry's lack of enthusiasm.

Harry grimaced. ''He tired to stab dad again, but dad stopped him. Proudfoot and I... we didn't do anything, we just dragged guy with us back to the Office.''

''But Snape is alright, right?'' Ginny asked carefully.

Harry appreciated his girlfriend's concern. When he thought about it, him and his friends worrying about Severus Snape's wellbeing would have been totally bonkers only a year and half ago... he used to wish Severus all the worst and now a notion of Severus getting hurt filled him with dread. ''Right as rain, tricked the guy with powdered Asphodel to see his footprints,'' Harry huffed at his own uselessness – when his dad had been taking care of Scrivenshaft, Harry had been organising Proudfoot's files.

Luna tilted her head. ''An idea worthy of Potions Master.''

''So who is it?'' Ron asked impatiently, earning some disapproving glares from the Gryffindor girls.

''Rufus Scrivenshaft. He's like thirtish? Or more like late twentish? And a Hufflepuff,'' Harry recalled.

''Did he say what he wanted from Snape?'' Neville asked.

''He wanted to kill him, that's what he wanted,'' Harry sneered. ''I didn't need to talk to him to get that much. Besides, Proudfoot didn't let me take part in interrogation.''

''That's mean. Hasn't he invited you to interrogations earlier?'' Ginny protested.

Harry looked away, blushing a bit. ''I might have, uh, called my dad 'dad' in front of Proudfoot,'' he admitted embarrassedly. ''I guess Proudfoot decided it was too personal for me.''

''Well, he might have had a point,'' Hermione noted quietly.

''You called Snape what?!'' Ron stared wide-eyed at his friend.

''I called him 'dad', what of it? You call yours that way too. Everybody does!'' Harry said defensively, only now realising that he had only mentioned this development in his relationship with Severus to Ginny. But they should not be so surprised, they must have suspected something, right? Hadn't Harry referred to the man as his dad when talking to his friends?

''Happy for you, Harry. You know, he really looked affectionate of you this past year,'' Luna chimed in.

Ron blinked. ''And the git is OK with that?'' he asked scrunching up his nose.

Harry tensed a bit, having been reminded of the argument with his dad earlier that day, but did not know how to answer. He wasn't sure anymore if Severus was really as fine with being called 'dad' as he had told Harry.

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose as Hermione started rebuking Ron. ''How about we focus on the attacker for now?'' Harry could not possibly adore her more in this moment for saving him from that conversation. ''Do we know anything else about him?''

''Dad said Scrivenshaft had not taken part in the war on any of the sides. It makes no sense! Why run around killing Death Eaters and alleged Death Eaters and even travel all the way to Italy if he hadn't been personally involved in the war?'' Harry started pacing around the living room.

''Well, he most likely wasn't involved with the Death Eaters if Snape says so, and if he worked for the Order, we would have known too, right?'' Hermione mused.

''He doesn't really match our profile,'' Neville noted, glancing at the board.

Hermione started skimming through the notes on the board. ''Why is that?'' she furrowed her eyebrows.

''Scrivenshafts are purebloods,'' Neville answered like everyone knew that. Maybe it was obvious to everyone raised in the wizarding world, but it definitely wasn't to Harry and Hermione.

''Ugh, I just don't get it! He doesn't match our guesses at all! He's pureblood, didn't actively partake in the war and he doesn't even work in the Auror Office. Why would he suddenly start stabbing people?'' Harry waved his arms furiously.

''Imperius?'' Neville wondered.

''He didn't look Imperiused... I mean, I don't think you could get that much hatred through Imperius. You'd have to see that – he just lay on the floor huffing and staring at my dad.''

''I don't see why Imperius wouldn't be able to make him think he hates Snape,'' Hermione noted sheepishly, reluctant to tackle the matter of Unforgiveable Curses.

The trial was scheduled to the 8^th of December. Harry was determined to finally be of use in the case, but it really felt like he was running in circles. Hermione got a word that Scrivenshaft worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, but it was hard to gather anything else about the man.

Sure, Scrivenshaft was the hottest gossip of the Ministry. Whenever Proudfoot was out of earshot, Harry lingered in corridors, hoping to overhear something of value, sometimes even joining the talks. However, those conversations had not brought him any closer to learning anything of substance about the man. Those who had actually met Scrivenshaft refused to believe the allegations against him. All Harry had learnt was that the man was a rather reserved and shy person.

Sometimes, conversations ventured into territory Harry found difficult to stomach. One janitor even had declared that Scrivenshaft deserved an order for what he had done rather than a prosecution, and the boy had needed every ounce of self-control not to slap his interlocutor in the face.

Ginny's enquiries proved no more fruitful. She had tried asking around the Harpies, but apparently the name had not rung a bell. Moreover, none of the teenagers had any contacts within the Department of Magical Games and Sports to reach out anyone who worked directly with the man.

However, perhaps the most infuriating thing came from Severus himself.

''Have you prepared anything for the trial already?'' Harry asked when he dropped by the apothecary.

''There is no chance you will cease and desist the matter entirely, is there?'' Severus replied flatly as he was rearranging potions on the shelves.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Come on, you can't say that I have nothing to do with it this time! He was your student... any guesses why he would attack you?''

''I imagine nearly half of the wizarding society would like to see me dead, so there nothing special about Scrivenshaft.''

''Don't tell me you haven't started preparing prosecution,'' Harry scoffed.

Severus raised his eyebrow at the teenager. ''I have, in the fact, not started and I shall not.''

''What?! Why not?'' Harry exclaimed outraged, attracting quite a few curious glances.

''I will be merely acting as a witness,'' Severus replied matter-of-factly. ''No, Harry, let me finish before you start another excess argument. Despite having taken part in hearings before, both as a defendant and as a witness, you may not be well acquainted with wizarding judiciary system. Homicide and attempted homicide cases are carried from public prosecution, therefore I have no need to bring a private prosecution.''

''Attempted?'' Harry sneered indignantly, but he quickly amended himself and lowered his voice. ''Hell, he should be accused of double homicide! He would have succeeded the first time if not for, uh, you know... it should count as a murder! Not to mention he's tried twice!''

''Are you going to inform the Wizengamot that they should amend the charges? I am certain they would be thrilled to hear the story behind it,'' Severus noted silkily. However, as he spoke his right hand wandered to his left forearm to massage it slightly. ''Besides, he was not anywhere near succeeding the second time.''

''Alright, so you are going to be a witness...'' Harry said tiredly. ''I guess I'm gonna be too-''

''I'd rather you didn't attend the hearing,'' Severus noted, getting back to the potions on shelves.

Harry crossed his arms. ''And what's the reason this time? I was literally there!''

Severus turned to face his son. His two black, tunnel-like eyes were piercing the boy. ''Because I don't want to waste your time. I am sure the saviour of the wizardkind has better things to do.''

''What could be more important than making sure the guy meets his justice?'' Harry frowned. There was no chance it was the real reason behind Severus' disapproval of the idea of Harry testifying in front of the Wizengamot. ''And-and what if he pulls the Imperius card? Have you thought about it?'' he pressed.

''Yes, I have and I don't think your participation in the hearing would change anything about it,'' Severus said dismissively.

''I'll say he wasn't Imperiused,'' Harry argued.

Severus shot him an unamused look. ''Yes, I am certain you are perfectly capable of telling Imperiused and not Imperiused people apart.''

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure how to respond. He wanted to argue that the attacker had not looked Imperiused. That Harry was familiar with the Imperius curse, having been able to resist it, having cast... a jolt of dread went down his spine. He had never admitted to have successfully cast an Unforgiveable Curse to his dad. And what was worse, having cast it twice.

Naturally, Severus was aware of Harry's unsuccessful attempts at other Unforgiveable Curses, having been one of their target, much to Harry's shame, but actually managing to cast an Unforgiveable was no joke.

What would Severus think of him if he found out? Would he push him away? Tell him that he was unworthy of calling himself Lily's son? He wanted to think that his dad would not condemn him for the use of the Imperius curse for a greater good. After all, hadn't Severus cast an Unforgiveable too in the hour of need? However, he could not imagine the Slytherin simply accepting it like nothing had happened.

''Listen, Harry, I don't want you anywhere near that man,'' Severus pressed.

''But, dad-'' Harry protested, taken aback by what seemed to be Severus disclosing why he didn't want Harry in the courtroom, sided with a glint of determination in the older wizard's eyes.

''My mind on the matter is set,'' Severus cut in harshly.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms. ''Like you've got anything to say on the matter. You're gonna be only a witness.''

Severus only raised an eyebrow and let out a short snarl in response.

As the trial was nearing, Harry found himself replaying the events of his arrival at the scene over and over again. Usually, Hildegard was his only audience, though Ginny occasionally found herself subjected to another painstaking reconstruction of the events.

''Give it a rest for now. The trial will still be there tomorrow for you to revise your lines, and some days after that too,'' Ginny said with a smirk, patting the empty space beside her on the bed.

''I'm not revising my lines,'' Harry huffed. ''Being a witness is not a role in a theatre!''

Seeing Ginny's unconvinced expression, Harry let out a sigh and finally relented. Slipping into the bed, he settled beside her, powerless to resist the invitation. He'd be a liar if he said he did not like having Ginny in his bed. And the occurence was getting more and more common since the redhead got her job.

''I just... I dunno,'' Harry said defeated, resting his head on Ginny's shoulder. ''I really wanna help, Gin. What if I miss some crucial detail? I could probably ask dad for his Pensieve, but he'll say no. He's so fucking stubborn,'' he said, earning himself a chuckle from Ginny. ''Like... why doesn't he want my help?''

''Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree even if the tree is the dungeon bat and you look like a cherry,'' Ginny smiled, not bothering to hide her amusement.

''That's an awful analogy, you know that, right?'' Harry snorted, finding it oddly funny. ''Besides, I'm not turning down your help.''

''But you are annoyingly stubborn at times,'' Ginny shot him a knowing look. Then she reached to brush his hair. ''I can practically hear the cogs rattling away in your head. Harry, I get why you're concerned, but you're worrying yourself sick needlessly. The Wizengamot are a bunch of dunces if they let a man running around and stabbing people free,'' she added, kissing the messy mop on his head.

''They sentenced Sirius to Azkaban, so yeah, they are dunces,'' Harry reminded. ''And I haven't even received my summons yet.''

''You've never mentioned before he had a Pensieve. Where did he get it? They are extremely rare,'' Ginny noted with a dose of wonder.

Harry shrugged. ''I dunno, didn't ask.''

Then the day of trial arrived. However, Harry still haven't received his summons, much to his annoyance. They had no troubles delivering them for Severus' and Draco's trials. Harry was clueless who to remind of his participation in the hearing. Should he send an owl, addressing the Wizengamot or was there a person he should reach out?

Luckily, he managed to scrape the information concerning the room where the hearing was about to take place and the exact time of the hearing. Therefore, on the 8^th of December he headed for Courtroom Seven at 8:20 A.M., alongside Hermione, who offered her support. He had tried explaining her that she would not be let into the courtroom. In response, Hermione had given him the biggest eyerolls of the century, noting that she obviously knew, but she wanted to keep him company on his way to the courtroom.

''Going to the hearing?'' Neville asked when two teenagers passed by their friend. The Ministry only proved what a small community the wizarding society was – it was difficult not to bump into this or that acquaintance in the corridors. He hoped that they weren't going to run into Mr. Weasley or Percy. ''I can go with you.''

''Thanks, but-'' Harry was about to point out that Neville had officially nothing to do with the case, like he had tried with Hermione, but the bookworm interrupted him.

''That would be kind,'' Hermine said. ''It's a shame Ron isn't coming with us,'' she sighed wistfully.

Harry snorted. He imagined Ron had no will of seeing Severus in the nearest future. Frankly, getting Ron to attend Severus' own trial over a year ago had been a feat. As for Neville, the boy should want to have nothing to do with his former teacher, taking into account their history. But Neville was a truly kind soul. And Harry hated to admit it that their company helped to keep the memories of the Department of Mysteries fiasco at bay when they passed by the door leading to that damned department.

When they reached the door of the Courtroom Seven, there was already a small crowd waiting there, among them Severus, Proudfoot and... Draco, to Harry's dismay.

Severus acknowledged his son's arrival by a quirk of an eyebrow and the glance at two Gryffindors hiding behind Harry's back.

''I thought you weren't supposed to testify in this case, Potter,'' Proudfoot noted curiously.

''Well, I didn't receive my summons, but I decided I could be of use,'' Harry said, ignoring Draco's presence. By Merlin, that smirk on Draco's ugly face was difficult to ignore.

''I appreciate it, Harry, but your presence won't be required,'' Severus said silkily. ''Both your tutor and I believe you have better things to do during the trial, your training for instance. And I fail to see a point in bringing your friends with you. They have nothing to do with the case, have they?'' The Slytherin's tone made it clear he was going at their little investigation, that had turned out to be a waste of time, in the end.

''Uh, we're here to keep Harry company, sir,'' Hermione spoke abashedly.

Severus crossed his arms. ''How touching. Nevertheless, you can turn back now – I am going to persuade the Wizengamot that they have no need to hear Harry out, and I hope that Proudfoot is going to do the same.''

''Dad!'' Harry exclaimed outraged. He could see Neville going pale in the corner of his vision. This time, however, there was not a slightest tense in his dad's features, despite some curious glances. ''So you're gonna let Draco testify, even though you're stopping me from it? Why?'' he asked, waving his hand at the blonde.

''What, jealous, Potter?'' Draco ridiculed in that awful tone that made Harry want to wipe that smirk off his face. ''And where's Weasley? Replaced him with Longbottom?''

''Now, listen you pathetic-'' Hermione was about to take a step in Draco's direction, but Neville grabbed her shoulder.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, looking positively like he was seconds away from headache. ''Cease, all of you! Draco was present when Scrivenshaft walked into my shop, therefore it is perfectly reasonable to let him speak.''

''Yeah, because I'm not reasonable,'' Harry scoffed.

''You arrived after I had immobilised Scrivenshaft, just like your tutor, thus I believe Proudfoot's testimony will be sufficient,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly. That tone always pushed Harry's buttons.

''Look, I'm not a child, I can attend a hearing! There's no point in locking me away from it. What, scared that the guy is gonna pounce on me?'' Harry mocked. Severus having gone to great lengths as talking with Proudfoot behind Harry's back to ensure Harry not testifying felt like a betrayal.

''Potter, you shouldn't make yourself look so desperate,'' Draco snickered.

''Draco! One more word and I shall remove you from this building,'' Severus hissed and judging by younger Slytherin's bewildered expression, he hadn't been expecting it.

Harry snorted, seeing his dad slipping back into his teacher habits, even though he had no longer had any power over teenagers.

The courtroom door opening abruptly put a stop to the conversation.

''Come, Harry, it's time to go,'' Hermione said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

''Nah, I'll wait here. They can still call me.''

''The hearing is going to take a while, there's no point in wating here. You know, he's got a point,'' Hermione urged and Harry sharply turned his head at her. ''You've got your classes you have to attend.''

---

Severus waved his hand, chasing away a buzz near his left ear on his way to the Atrium. He was relieved that Harry had not been waiting outside the courtroom. Unless his son had been so silly as to put on his Invisibility Cloak, which Severus could not rule out. However, it did not seem the case as he ran into Harry walking upstairs when he was going downstairs to the Level 8.

''So?'' the boy asked.

Severus exhaled slowly. Harry was most likely beyond the point where he could be taught any manners. ''I assume you should be satisfied with Scrivenshaft spending a lifetime in Azkaban.''

''And what did he say? Did he have any associates?'' Harry asked hastily.

''No. He claimed he had worked on his own and I have no reason not be believe him,'' Severus said.

''You sure?''

''Yes, Harry, I am certain,'' Severus grimaced at the memory of the trial. Luckily no Veritaserum had been used, although Williamson had made such a suggestion.

''Can you share the memory with me? I need to know what he said!'' Harry begged with those big green eyes.

''I can, but I will not,'' Severus replied flatly. However, he had a nasty feeling that his resolve not to give into Harry's wishes concerning the trial might not hold firm if his boy kept looking at him with those puppy eyes.

''Dad,'' Harry groaned, thankfully forgetting about flashing his pleading eyes at his father.

Severus made sure not to show any discomfort at the word, that Harry used more liberally since their argument. At times it felt like Harry was testing him if he was still against being referred to as 'dad' in public and Severus was certain that if there was a slightest twinkle in his eyes, Harry would hold him accountable. As much as he hated being wrong, his son was right that he could not keep their relationship secret without pushing Harry away.

''Seriously, what's up with you and keeping the thing away from me? I'm an adult, alright? I've got the right to be informed!'' Harry urged, switching from pleading to demanding. Luckily, he remained none the wiser that it was the first technique that could possibly grant him a victory.

''I have told you already, Harry. I believe it would be recommended that you forgot about this matter entirely. Scrivenshaft is not leaving Azkaban, case closed,'' Severus said harshly, tired of explaining this thing over and over again.

Naturally, Harry was not going to let go of it so easily, Severus was not so naive as to believe that it could be the case. Harry had an annoying tendency of going along his plan, even if it was the most idiotic plan out there, and ignoring any voice of reason once he had set his mind on a thing, like he had had with his absolutely uncalled-for rescue of the mutt, or having met said mutt in the Shrieking Shack. However, the fact that Harry had recklessly carried an investigation – and for no reason at all as the Auror Department had been already working on the case, had Severus worried what other marvelous plans his son was about to devise. Mere mention of Scrivenshaft stripped Harry of common sense and presence in the same space... how could Lily's beautiful eyes grow so hateful?

''It's not the Order, things are not going to fall apart if you share your info with me,'' Harry grumbled.

''You don't need to know every detail,'' Severus said, finally setting his foot in the Atrium. He looked longingly at fireplaces, tired of this discussion.

''And you needn't have talked with Proudfoot. Do you have any idea how I felt?''

''I told you numerous times that you were not going to testify. It is you who did not want to listen,'' Severus scoffed.

''Were you so worried that I was going to ruin the trial?'' Harry mocked.

''Oh, but Harry is right – you should tell him. I don't think you realise how difficult it is to obtain informants these days. And while you are at this, you could share a thing or two with me,'' a venomously sweet voice said.

Severus jaw tensed. Skeeter.

''Get lost, Skeeter,'' Harry snapped.

''For instance,'' Rita went on, not paying attention to Severus' and Harry's unwelcoming expressions. ''My readers would die to find out what's between you two. A story of a man who took under his wing the son of the love of his life and a boy who found a father in a man who behind the scenes had been protecting him would melt their hearts,'' Rita smiled encouragingly with a glint in her eyes.

''We're not here for your entertainment, Skeeter,'' Severus bared his crooked teeth at the journalist.

''But that would make a truly lovely story,'' the witched reasoned. ''Isn't sweet that dear Harry calls you his dad?''

Harry clenched his fists, glaring daggers at the journalist, but did not have the decency of looking ashamed that his own behaviour had led them there.

Skeeter must have noticed it as she triumphantly quirked an eyebrow. ''Unless there's something more to it... you know what I mean... a concealment charm here and there...'' she said with all too pleased smile on her face and she waved her finger in front on Harry's face, pointing at his features. ''Such a story should find its audience just as well.''

''Now listen, Skeeter. I know you are like a maggot feeding on decay... or should I say, like a beetle, and I am going to treat you accordingly.'' Severus made a pause to let the message sink. The witch only slightly tilted her head with a soft 'Oh' with that fake smile. ''Yes, Skeeter, I know all about the secret of yours. If I come across an article concerning Harry and myself... nay, should I hear a slightest whisper about the ties between us, I am going to assume it is your doing and I will march right into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I will tell them who you are.''

However, Rita was rather unfased by the threat. ''Oh, did I strike a nerve?'' she asked wiggling with that nasty smile on her face, like she was excited to get down on Severus' nerves.

''We both know I am not joking – being such a perceptive reported you must be aware I am capable of much more horrific acts. Therefore, I suggest that you leave right now and never speak a word of it. For your own wellbeing, naturally. Wouldn't it be a... shame if such a recognised journalist was to find herself confined in Azkaban?'' Severus grimace was matching Rita's smirk.

''He's really not kidding, you know,'' Harry noted.

Rita hid her Quick-Quotes Quill. ''Well, I do hope you are not going to forget about good old Rita, should you change your mind,'' she said driving her index finger along Harry's chin. ''Think about it.''

The boy swatted her hand away and Severus felt an urge to cut her finger with that horrendous flashy nail away.

''Leave now and stay away from my son,'' Severus hissed in cold whisper. He was instantly gratified by Skeeter's vicious scowl. He would gladly let her suffer not being able to write in her gossip column that Severus Snape had admitted that Harry Potter was his son.

''You know where to find me,'' Rita said sharply and left for the fireplaces.

Harry curiously furrowed his eyebrows at the older man. ''Well, you outdone me on this one,'' he said with his tone somewhere between amusement and admiration.

''I think we can agree that if anyone is going to inform the broader audience, it's not her,'' Severus frowned, watching the woman step into the fireplace.

''So, what about the trial?'' Harry asked after few seconds.

Severus ran his hand down his face. ''Cannot this wait until evening, Harry? I have to return to my shop,'' he said tiredly. Harry was truly relentless in his pursuit and between the trial and Skeeter, Severus had no energy for another argument with his son. And an argument seemed inevitable, seeing that none of them was willing to change their mind. Not to mention the flock of irksome customers that would eventually arrive into his apothecary. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

''Suuure, dad, leave when it suits you,'' Harry deadpanned. Severus could almost swear that the teenager borrowed the tone from him. Couldn't he have replicated some more amicable quality of Severus?

''I have other duties to take care of right now, just like you do,'' Severus pointed smoothly. ''We can return to this matter in the evening,'' he offered, knowing well he was going to regret it later. However, there was no escaping from it, so better tackle the subject on his terms, before his son was going to do something irrational once more.

Harry huffed, but after a moment grumbled a word of consent.

Severus nodded. ''I'll see you in the evening, then, Harry,'' he said and headed for the fireplace.