Usually in my dreams I was in the battlefields of the war, or in a forest, or in various places from my memories. But this time was different. This time, I found myself in a mansion, one that I didn’t recognise. I stared around me and realised I had my wand. That was strange. In my dreams I usually never had my wand -- a reminder of the helplessness I tried so hard to hide in reality. I was just about to start walking, when the scene around me dissolved and changed, as it did in dreams.

When my surroundings had settled themselves again, I found myself facing an armchair heavily shrouded in darkness. There was someone sitting in the chair, but I couldn’t see who it was, as their face was disguised by shadows. I frowned and took a step forward. “Who are you?” The person folded their arms and laughed, the sound filling the air. I tensed.

“Someone.” It was a female voice, low but powerful. She made my skin crawl. “I am someone.” The temperature dropped suddenly and I started shivering. She seemed unaffected.

I glared at her. “You don’t say?” I placed my hands on my hips, my right one near the pocket that held my wand. Had to be careful, couldn’t let her catch on too soon. “Who are you, really?”

“Do you honestly think you can protect him from us? That you can save him?” It was as if she hadn’t heard my questions at all. Her voice was mildly enquiring, as she crossed her legs. She was wearing billowing cream trousers underneath her dark robes, a stark contrast to each other.

I stared hard, but still couldn’t see her. “What are you talking about?”

“The boy is ours. He will be; he is destined for it.” Her matter-of-fact tone annoyed me, but I had no time to dwell on that, for realisation slammed into my stomach: Callidus. That was who she was talking about.

I planted my feet. “Destiny can be changed. You know that as well as I do.” I tried to ignore the fact that my stomach had begun to roll and clench with fear and worry. I knew that if Callidus ever became part of anything on the Dark Side, all hell would break loose.

She laughed again. “You are afraid. I can hear it in your voice. You fear you will not be able to save the boy from us. You don’t know who we are, but you have already vowed to work against us.” With a start, I realised she was right. Ever since Dumbledore had told me his fears concerning Callidus before Halloween, I had vowed to try and show Callidus the right path, to prevent him from going to the darkness.

I wanted to save him like I hadn’t been able to save Draco. Another person to be guilty over.

I swallowed my impulse to yell at her, and instead, thought for a moment. With a determined expression, I stood my ground and eyed her. “Perhaps that is so,” I said with a shrug. “But that will give me no hesitation. I will still try and stop you, no matter what you toss at me.”

She chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You are confident. And you are only one, against all of us. We are ruthless. Do you really think you can stop all of us?”

I shrugged again. “Voldemort thought the same thing. I defeated him as well. And there are others who will protect Callidus. It’s not only me.” Snape had always told me I was a stubborn brat. Now was my chance to see if I was as stubborn as he claimed. However, as Snape crossed my mind, something inside me clenched with embarrassment, but I had no idea why. But this wasn’t the time to think about him; I pushed it to the back of mind and turned my attentions back to her.

“We shall see. Callidus is feared by many. Will they come together to protect him?” She kept her voice innocently casual, but her words caused doubts to enter my mind, doubts I didn’t like and didn’t want to think about. Almost as if she could sense my hesitation, she grinned, though I still couldn’t see her complete face.

Anger filled me and my right hand drew closer to my pocket. I had my wand; I could do something to her right then and there, and she wouldn’t be prepared. I thought quickly, hoping my impulses were as trustworthy as before, but she spoke before I could pull it out.

“Go on.” Her voice was calm and left me looking at her in bewilderment. When I did nothing, she became impatient. “Go on, take it out, curse me!” she said in a clipped voice. When I still didn’t move, she hissed. “Well, do something! Go on; I’m giving you permission, unless you’re that much of a coward!”

I snapped and pulled out my wand, my mind racing for the perfect spell to toss at her. But something was wrong. I didn’t realise it at first, but I soon did, as agonising pain soared up through my wand hand. I cried out, but I couldn’t get my hand off my wand, though it was burning my skin and causing pain to sear through my body. I cried out and fell to my knees, as for the first time in years pain shot through my scar, effectively blinding me. I started to scream, then, as darkness tinged my vision and her cruel, cold laughter filled the air.

The ground was swallowed by darkness and I was falling, falling, falling --

I crashed to the ground and awoke in a mad tangle of coldness, blankets, panic and The Hangover From Hell. It took me seconds to open my eyes, but a few moments to realise the dull thumping I was hearing was actually in my head. I groaned, slowly dragging myself back onto the bed -- blankets and all -- and came face-to-face with an incensed Brandy, who clearly didn’t like almost being dragged off with me. I moaned, gingerly rubbed my eyes and looked at her, trying to remember why she was so angry with me.

“Brandy?” It came out as a croak; my throat felt like sandpaper. I coughed and it took me two more tries before I could pronounce her name properly. But when I did she simply bared her teeth, leapt off the bed and stalked to her basket, where she hadn’t slept in... how long? A while, anyway. It didn’t look good.

“Brandy?” I repeated. It came out as a plea. She glared at me and I struggled to get my brain to work again, something it didn’t seem to want to do. What had happened? I frowned. Images and memories slowly came back to me, and dread accompanied the nausea in my stomach. Hogsmeade. Snape. The Hog’s Head. Wine. Dizziness. Falling. Hogwarts. My room. And--

Oh, God.

I pressed my hands to my mouth in horror. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. OhGodohGodohGodohGod. I let out a strangled sound of disbelief. I kissed Snape. I kissed Snape. I kissed Snape.

I.

Kissed.

Snape.

I was so humiliated I almost wanted to start weeping. Instead, I buried my face in the pillow and started shaking. That was it. That was it with alcohol. From now on, I only drank in extremely special circumstances, and would avoid it if I could. If the thought of coming face-to-face with him wasn’t so embarrassing, I would have enlisted Snape’s help.

Lifting my head from the pillow, I frowned and started thinking. Bit by bit, I remembered what had happened the previous night and I wanted to die. Or just crawl into the nearest hole and stay there. What on earth had possessed me to say any of that?! I could feel my cheeks burning and whimpered. Brandy pricked her ears and gave me a concerned look from her basket. Apparently her anger didn’t last when I was making such distressing sounds. Now thoroughly miserable and with a raging hangover to boot, I crawled out of the bed and bribed her with the Fudge Flies; I had apparently remembered to bring the bag back with me, despite being absolutely stoned. At least I did something right. To her immense surprise, I hauled her onto my lap and buried my face in her fur.

“I should have brought you with me,” I informed her glumly, holding out another Fudge Fly. She gave me a puzzled look before accepting the sweet. “You would have bit me when I started snarling at him. You would have sided with Snape.” At the mention of Snape’s name, Brandy perked up and wagged her stump of a tail. I glared at her and picked her up so she was looking straight at me. “Whose side are you on?” She gave me a droll look and gently nipped my nose. I scowled at her and winced; the movement did my head no favours. I cringed at the prospect of having to go to Poppy for a hangover remedy. She was going to rub it on for all its worth.

With a sigh, I put Brandy down and got to my feet, intending to find a fresh seat of robes to put on. I should probably take a shower as well, I thought absently. It might help me to wake up a bit more. For the first time ever, I was intensely glad there were gallons of orange juice at breakfast. It was good for a hangover, right? I couldn’t remember. God, knowing my luck I’d probably fried a few brain cells last night. I winced again. I was through with getting drunk and drinking in general, really. Snape would be so proud of me... if he didn’t try and kill me the moment he saw me.

I was sitting on the bed and trying not to move my head too much, when I saw it. Brandy was quieter than usual, sitting on the bed silently, still watching me with concerned eyes. I was searching for the cloth I used to clean my glasses, when I saw there was a vial on the locker that I definitely hadn’t put there. Frowning, I picked it up and read the label: ‘Hangover Remedy’. My heart skipped a beat in fear and shock. With trembling fingers, I picked up the folded note beside it.

If you’re going to have it out with me again, I would suggest yelling at me until I want to fling you out the nearest window, rather than attempting a drinking contest with me. Not to be crude, but a house-elf could drink you under the table, Potter. To spare you the humiliation of facing Poppy for a hangover remedy, I made you one. If it doesn’t relieve you in a sufficient amount of time, I will resign, which I hardly doubt will happen. Try not to get drunk too often; I don’t want to make a habit of this.

S.S.

No word of the ‘personal matter’ that had happened between us. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. The fact that he’d gone to the trouble of making me a hangover remedy make me think that he didn’t want to kill me yet, since he didn’t make hangover remedies all that often (I think the last time I’d seen Snape drunk was at some critical point of the war, and he didn’t really approve of heavy drinking under normal circumstances).

I took the remedy (the one thing I did trust was his potion brewing skill) and then sat for about half an hour rereading the note, until Brandy announced it was time to go down and eat. With a sigh, I folded the note and put it into my pocket and went downstairs to face the music, so to speak.

His hangover remedy worked in two minutes. Guess I was stuck with him after all. I was still embarrassed, though.

Snape and I didn’t speak about the kisses. We acted as though they never happened, which was probably the wrong thing to do, but at the time I was so relieved I didn’t think about it. Something changed between us, of course. From then on, we were so civil to each other we actually made the other teachers nervous and the students curious, which I could understand. We had a dramatic change in attitude towards each other. It was enough to worry anyone, I suppose.

A consequence of Halloween was the result that Snape was in my thoughts even more than he already had been, and it was frustrating to no end. Meals were agonising, as I constantly felt his eyes on me. I avoided the dungeons like they had the plague, but I knew better than to publicly avoid Snape. We were courteous when we passed each other in the halls, or when we met in the staff room. It unnerved the teachers, but we let them think we had attempted to sort out our differences at Halloween, and were simply keeping our word to be polite. Dumbledore, I feared, probably knew what had really happened, but he never approached me about it. Like with Snape, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

Nights were the worst. Since the dream with the strange woman, I had been experiencing nightmares every night. They varied from moments in the war, to earlier memories, but the results were always the same; I ended sitting up in bed screaming, plastered in a cold sweat. It had got to the point where Brandy was seriously worried about me. I was dreading sleep; nothing I did would make the nightmares stop.

Trying to teach with a severe lack of sleep was not easy, and I soon became a nervous wreak, jittery and edgy. The staff were concerned, particularly Dumbledore and Snape, but I refused to talk about it. They were only nightmares; I could deal with them. Or so I kept telling myself. Even though I still woke up screaming.

From what I could gather, Snape intended to corner me into admitting what was wrong, but something happened that put everything between us on temporary hiatus: the first Quidditch match of the year. I had managed to watch Callidus practise once or twice and from what I’d heard the students say, he was unstoppable on the Firebolt. I was keen to see him play in a proper match and was thanking my lucky stars that Slytherin were playing Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor.

The day dawned cool, cloudy and dry. The students were practically hyper with anticipation -- Quidditch still caused the same excitement as it had in my day -- and the two teams were grim and pale, as teams usually were before a match. Except for Callidus, naturally. He was unflappable, as usual. I scrutinised him closely. He looked like he had the makings of a future captain, actually. I put the thought away for future reference.

Usually there was only a normal amount of fuss, with most of it coming from the two teams playing. The entire school usually only came together for the final. But today, the whole school was buzzing and I suspected it was because of Callidus. Everyone knew who he was -- or rather, what they thought he was. They all seemed to want to see if he had what it took to be a really good Seeker. He probably knew about it, but the students had bets on and there was, astonishingly, tension between Snape and Flitwick.

The whole school was packed in the bleachers, it seemed, and blue and green were everywhere. Both McGonagall and I had changed out of our usual green robes to avoid being mauled by overzealous Ravenclaws, just in case. I was sitting beside her, trying to get out of a bet with Hagrid, when Snape sat down on my other side. Stunned silence followed this, while I tried not to openly panic. Was he doing this on purpose?

He glanced at me and smirked; I knew he had realised I wasn’t wearing green. “Nice change, Potter. Afraid of taking sides?” He gestured at the crimson robes I had donned. I glared at him, unable to think of anything to say. Whatever I said, he came out right. His smirk grew broader, as he realised I was struggling for something to say. He leaned in closer to me and murmured, so low that only I could hear, “With all the effort you made to convince me to buy that Firebolt with you, I was certain you were going to support us.”

Snape was baiting me and I knew it. He’d been doing it since I was eleven and, in his eyes, had been turning out as bad as my father. That is, until I’d fallen for him and turned everything upside down. I knew the only way to beat him at his own game was to surprise him. So, I did. Instead of getting angry and snapping at him, I gave him a large smile, which he could have interpreted in any way. He blinked, before I turned to McGonagall and tried not to notice that she was giving me a considering look.

At that moment, the Ravenclaw team came out, which saved me as cheers erupted from their House. I watched them carefully; they were a good team, it had to be said, but they weren’t as strong as they could have been and they tended to have problems working as an actual team sometimes. I didn’t want to say it, but I had an inkling that Slytherin were going to win today, especially with Callidus as their Seeker. I was a teacher and wasn’t technically allowed to take sides, no matter what House I had been in.

The Slytherin team came out and cheers erupted from the Slytherins. I couldn’t help marvelling at how calm Callidus seemed to be, considering how I had felt before every match, particularly my first one. “How on earth can he be so calm?” I didn’t realise I’d spoken out loud until Snape replied, his voice barely audible over the noise of the students.

“I suppose when you can play like he can, you wouldn’t really need to be nervous, would you?” He had a point, so I simply nodded, for there wasn’t really anything I could say in answer to that. He glanced at me sharply, as if he had expected me to disagree with him, but I said no more, as Madam Hooch came onto the pitch. The game was about to begin.

It started rapidly. I tried to pay attention to the Chasers and their own battle, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Callidus and the Ravenclaw Seeker, Jenna Mayflower. She was in Third Year, but wasn’t any match for Callidus. She simply tried to follow him around. She had a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, but it was no competition for his Firebolt. I felt intensely proud, though I knew I shouldn’t be.

The game passed in a blur; first Slytherin were in the lead, then Ravenclaw, then Slytherin and so on. It became so confusing that I found myself wondering how Lee Jordan had found commentary so easy. I was clenching my hands so hard, they were beginning to ache. Snape was tense and so was Flitwick, which was rather alarming; Flitwick was one of the nicest teachers in the school. As it turned out, Slytherin were twenty points up when it happened.

Callidus froze and then he dived. In fact, he dived so suddenly that many of the students screamed in surprise and I wrenched McGonagall’s binoculars off her and leaped onto the bleachers, following the green blur anxiously. Mayflower dived after him, but he was already too far ahead, scorching towards the ground, his eyes intent on the Snitch. I could hardly hear myself think; the noise was deafening...

He soared upwards, his hand clenched around the struggling Snitch. I caught his expression and grinned; he was euphoric, but still seemed dazed by the thundering applause and the hugs the rest of the team were showering on him. The game had ended after ten minutes.

Snape let out a startling whoop (most unlike him!) that caused me to tumble back onto the bleachers. His hand shot out to steady me and closed around my wrist.

Heat rushed up my arm and into my body, centring low down. My head swirled, and I felt light-headed as I went hard, much to my embarrassment. Not now, of all times! I managed to glare at Snape and found him watching me, his dark eyes searching mine. He took in my startled expression, wide eyes and flushed face. His gaze flickered down for a moment, and I whimpered before I could help it. His eyes locked with mine again and he knew what I was feeling. His eyes widened, but before either of us could speak, the other teachers started congratulating Snape. I escaped as fast as I could.

While in the process of fleeing, I spotted Callidus. He had managed to stay away from the crowd and was watching it all, still dazed. I suppose the fact that everyone was now cheering for him, after so many weeks of fear and uneasiness, shocked and unsettled him. I stopped and was about to go over to him, when I saw Dolus approach.

I froze and Callidus stiffened. I couldn’t help but remember what Dolus had said about him, causing me to erupt. As I watched, they stared at each other, both of them tense and uncomfortable. Then Dolus slowly held out his hand. I blinked; it had been the last thing I had expected. Callidus stared at him, before taking it. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was safe to say Dolus was congratulating him.

The world turned upside down. I couldn’t think anymore. Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned and bolted towards the emptying bleachers. I don’t know how long I stayed in the pitch, but it had been empty for a long time before I heard footsteps. I’d been staring up at the sky, brooding, do I didn’t see him, but I recognised his footsteps so it didn’t matter. I sighed and closed my eyes, as he climbed the bleachers to the top one, where I was. He sat down beside me and didn’t say anything at first. I kept my eyes shut.

“Thinking of what might have been?” His voice was quiet and thoughtful. He was being sincere.

“Maybe.” He knew me too well. I’d been a fool, giving up those Quidditch offers, both of them. Most people were lucky to get one. I’d received two... and refused them both. God, I was an idiot beyond words. I sighed again, and reached up to rub my eyes. I opened them to stare up at the cloud-filled sky. It was tinged with grey; exactly how I felt. “I’m a prat, aren’t I?”

“It’s a matter of opinion, I’m afraid,” he replied. I glanced at him to see he was staring up at the sky as well. “But I believe so.” He was perfectly solemn when he spoke. Snape all round, and I was never more glad of it.

I snorted. “You would.” He gave no reply. Typical. I sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of my neck. Lying on bleachers wasn’t comfortable. I propped my chin on my hands and fought against the tide of regret and loneliness that threatened to overwhelm me. It never stopped. No matter how much I tried to get on with life, the past kept tugging me backwards. Would I ever get over it all and start living again?

“You asked me a question and I answered it,” Snape replied calmly and I gave him a dark look. He merely raised an eyebrow and was completely undisturbed. “If you can’t face the answers, then don’t ask the questions.” I mumbled something inaudible in reply. He crossed his arms and gave me a hard look. I felt myself flush, but kept my gaze on him. But he saw something in my eyes that seemed to unsettle him, and I quickly averted my gaze, to be safe. Nothing was said for a few moments, and then, “Why didn’t you take either of the Quidditch offers?”

It was exactly the sort of question I hadn’t wanted to hear. Naturally, he had to ask it. Snape was always the one who forced me to face up to issues I really wanted to run from. I closed my eyes, blocking out everything I could see and welcoming the darkness. Always the darkness. Always, always. I took a deep breath and let it out in a loud rush. And again. And again. Calm down, I told myself. I have to calm down. If I don’t, Snape will undoubtedly say something cutting and sarcastic to bring me back to earth, but I’d rather not experience that.

I opened my eyes. “Guilt,” I said flatly. “Guilt, of course.” I stared down at the pitch without really seeing it. I laughed then, and the sound was bitter. “It didn’t seem right, after the war. To just go and play Quidditch, when so many had just died... it was damn near disrespectful!” At that moment, I hated myself all over again.

“Some wouldn’t have called it disrespectful,” Snape answered and I forced myself not to sneer at him. “Some would say it was trying to get your life back together. You still had a life to lead.”

“Well, you would say that,” I muttered. He gave me a disbelieving look and I continued. “What else did you expect from me? I’m the teacher with the depression-filled past and bearer of angst in general!”

“Stop being so self-absorbed!” he snapped, and I flinched. “Why do you feel so guilty?” I felt his hand on my arm, but couldn’t find the energy to shrug it off. I suddenly felt exhausted, so very, very tired.

“So many died,” I replied softly, clenching my hands together so tightly that my bones ached and my knuckles turned white. “So many died and I knew them. They went to school with me and they considered me a friend. And I let them die.” A dry sob forced its way from my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut. God, I could still remember them all, even though years had passed. I could still see them in mind and it hurt. I had been there when some of them had died, and I hadn’t been able to save them.

I gasped when fingers clenched on my shoulders, digging in so hard that the pain made my eyes snap open. Midnight orbs glared at me and I balked. Before I could say anything, Snape was talking in an icy, deliberate voice. “Get this through your thick head, Potter: you couldn’t save them all. We were in a war and people die in wars; it’s unavoidable! You can’t take the blame for every death!”

“Why not?!” I snarled in reply, trying to wrench my arm from his grasp but he held on. “It’s easier to blame everything on me! I was famous Potter, the one who defeated Voldemort, but it wasn’t enough! It was never enough!” My voice was harsh, but my throat hurt and my eyes were prickling with unshed tears and I hated myself so much. I couldn’t cry, particularly not in front of Snape. I gritted my teeth and stared at my shoes.

Cold fingers touched my chin and tilted my face up. Snape gave me a searching look. Silence filled the air for minutes that dragged by, before he asked in a quiet voice, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were depressed? Why didn’t you say you were feeling like this?”

“How could I? Do you think anyone would have really listened?” I answered coldly. When he didn’t say anything, I went on. “I was strong enough to battle Voldemort and live. Something petty like depression surely wouldn’t affect me!” The sarcasm was almost comforting, almost made up for the darkness I had inside, but really couldn’t. I glared at the bleachers and hoped I wouldn’t cry.

“You could have told me,” he whispered and I flinched. “I wouldn’t have judged you. You know that.” The emotion in his voice was enough to make the guilt fill me even more, especially when I knew he was trying to hide the emotion. God, how had we become so messed up?

I laughed, the sound a complete mockery of him. “Tell you? Be realistic. We would have been screaming at each other in seconds if I’d gone to you.” His silence spoke volumes. We both knew what I’d said was true. There was no denying it.

“What did you say to Dolus?” I asked, wanting to know what he’d said and also wanting to change the subject. Had I been able to face up to my problems, once? I couldn’t remember. “I saw him shaking hands with Callidus after the match.” The memory of it made my grimace; had I changed that much, that the sight of two semi enemies made everything turn upside down? What had I become... was I that prejudiced to Malfoys? My skin prickled.

Snape paused for a moment and when he began to speak, his voice was so soft that I knew he was going to rip into me. I just knew. “When you came to me with the intent of persuading me to purchase Callidus’ Firebolt with you, you told me to deal with Dolus like I would any Gryffindor.” He paused and I watched him, curious despite myself. “I ignored you completely.” I stared at him, but he gave me no time to respond. “Instead, he came to my office and I tried to explain things to him.” I raised an eyebrow. Explain things?

He glared at my sceptical look. “The Malfoys are currently being ripped apart as you know, unless you haven’t read The Daily Prophet in the last three years. Lucius is already dead and Dolus’ father isn’t far off it. Dolus is confused enough as it is. Your open dislike for him doesn’t help.” I was shocked at this sudden attack and I knew it showed on my face. “All Malfoys aren’t like Lucius, as well you know. Or have you forgotten what happened to Draco?” I had the grace to look away, shame filling my face.

“No,” I answered quietly. “I haven’t forgotten.” His expression implied he thought differently, particularly in the remembrance aspect, but he didn’t say anything.

“I talked for a bit, tried to show him he could confide in me and explained the situation with Callidus, which explained to him why you erupted so badly.” His face turned dark. “Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.”

There really wasn’t anything I could say to that, but I tried. I made him even more annoyed, so it didn’t make things actually better, but when has anything I’ve said ever done that? “I had a relationship with you, didn’t I?” I said quietly, wondering why my chest seemed so tight all of a sudden. Did he regret it all?

His eyes locked with mine and they almost looked sad. “Yes. That makes it all the worse.”

I looked at him, dismayed. He regretted it. He regretted all of it. My breathing quickened, as my heart began to pound. Surely he didn’t mean it. Why was he, to all effects, constantly reminding me of what had been between us, then? And he had kissed me only a few days ago. How could he regret it all? It didn’t make sense, unless... my eyes widened. Was this a method of revenge? Was this because I had pushed him away and ended it, with no reasonable explanation? Was he leading me to believe he still wanted me, so as to cause me the same pain I had caused him?

I knew better than to think I didn’t care if he wanted me or not. Two months had passed and too much had happened. He knew how I felt as well as I did.

But that didn't seem like Snape at all. That type of revenge seemed too underhand and pointless for him. He had a strict code of honour and he abided by it... even if it wasn’t exactly normal, but nothing was ever normal about Severus Snape. The day he turned normal, something was seriously wrong.

He was more likely to annoy the hell out of me than to give me emotional abuse... I think. It suddenly occurred to me how little I knew Snape now. I had no idea how he’d changed since the war.

Every word I said had the potential to cause an explosion from him.

I was finally able to speak. “What do you mean?”

“You Gryffindors are all the same,” he growled. “Your friend, Weasley, always had a particular grudge against Slytherin. Even after what had happened to Draco, I recall it took months for him to like him and he never really trusted him.” The bright look in Snape’s eyes made me uneasy. I didn’t like where this was going.

“Ron had his reasons.” I shifted uncomfortably.

Snape sneered. “You always accused him of being too tough on my House. Did it ever occur to you that you had the same bias as him?” I shook my head. “I thought as much. You were like him, though not as bad. You were willing to forgive Draco easily enough, but it took you a while to trust him. Did you ever, for that matter?”

“Of course I did!” I replied, but I knew I didn’t sound that convincing. I hadn’t ever really trusted Draco, if I had to be truthful. But I hadn’t met him since the end of the war, so I didn’t know how he’d changed. I still didn’t think he had, no matter what common sense and conscience told me. But I had no excuse. Damn, I felt guilty.

“Say it with more enthusiasm next time.” I winced, but glared at him anyway. “Before you decide on how other people should act, look at yourself, Potter. You mightn’t realise it, but you still hold many of your old grudges.” Snape shrugged. “As I said: once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.”

I was angry because he was right, and I didn’t like that. So I had a normal reaction. I got defensive. I think he was expecting that. The fact he knew me so well? Alarming. But that was for another time. “Not all Gryffindors have grudges,” I reminded him. “The rivalry between the two Houses is gone now, remember?”

“You may think so,” was his answer. “But look closely. You’ll see.” I stared at him, not entirely sure what he meant. But he said no more.

I shivered. It was approaching late afternoon and it was getting cold. That was enough of an ending for me. “I have to go,” I said, standing up. “And, well... I’ll do what you said. I’ll look closely. And -- and thank you.” He nodded, but the intent look in his eyes made me feel like he was seeing parts of me I didn’t want him to see.

I didn’t run from him, this time. I walked fast, but didn’t run. Can you say self-denial?

Talking with Snape caused me to look at things from a new prospect, whether I wanted to or not. For the first time in three years I ignored all the guilt and sorrow I’d built up, and took a good look at myself. I didn’t like what I saw.

He was right. I still had my old grudges. It explained why I’d taken an instant dislike to Dolus, why I’d been wary of Callidus at first and why I still wouldn’t sort things out with Snape. The fact I’d had a relationship with him meant nothing. It had just caused me to ignore all the faults I’d had. Made things worse, actually.

God, I’d been an idiot since the end of the war. The only person I’d thought about was me. Me, me, me. I’d pushed Snape away because I’d been hurting. I hadn’t helped Draco because I hadn’t been able to believe he’d changed -- and still couldn’t. I’d become distant to Lupin and Sirius because I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone, so I hadn’t put any effort into my friendships. My owls to Ron and Hermione hadn’t been as personal anymore. It had come to the point where they were people I met every few months, not friends -- no matter what I kept telling myself.

I was a mess. A mess with so many hang-ups, it was frightening.

The nightmares were getting worse. If I’d thought talking to Snape might have stopped them or even eased them a bit, I was wrong. Most nights I couldn’t sleep, instead sitting up, staring out the window and trying not to remember what I’d seen in my mind. I felt like I was losing it.

The staff were even more concerned then before, but I still insisted nothing was wrong, though something obviously was. Classes became a place where I couldn’t hold my temper and was always close to tears, despite the fact I didn’t know why.

Things came to breaking point around the middle of November. I had First Year Gryffindors when I noticed the class seemed more tense than usual. I frowned, before finally coming out with it. “What happened?”

Jonathan glanced at me, before pointing to Neal Aurum. I followed his gaze and nearly balked when I realised the state the boy was in. It was Neville all over again. Neal didn’t look like my old classmate, you must understand. He was tall, slender, with blonde hair and large blue-green eyes. He’d be a lady-killer in a few years, once he stopped being so nervous. It was obviously a trait Snape would have latched onto. I sighed and prepared to hear the inevitable.

“It was Professor Snape,” Jonathan explained hesitantly, not exactly sure if he should be talking about a teacher like this to me. “Neal... melted his fifth cauldron today and almost blew everything up. He wasn’t too pleased.” I snorted. ‘Wasn’t too pleased’ was a bit of an understatement. Snape would have almost blown a blood vessel.

I didn’t know what to do with him, really. In the end, I told Jonathan to take Neal to Madam Pomfrey to calm him down and then take him for a short walk on the grounds. It sounded stupid to me, but I didn’t know what else to do.

The memory came suddenly, though I should have expected it. Later, when I thought about it, it had been obvious it would come, but I simply hadn’t been thinking. As usual. Jonathan and Neal had just left and I was trying to return to the lesson, when it hit.

The sky was red. Even though it was night, the sky was a flaming red. It was possible it was like this because of all the fires, but later it stuck in my mind that it looked like the sky was awash in blood.

I found him under a fallen tree. I desperately hoped he was dead, but I was wrong. He was still alive, despite the fact he couldn’t move and his breathing sounded like snapping wood. His eyes rose upwards when he heard me approach and the fear in them made me sick. My stomach churned, as I realised how much he had gone through... and lived through. He’d always been meant for Gryffindor. The fear in his eyes slackened when he recognised me.

“Harry...?” he whispered, and I winced at the broken condition of his voice. He’d screamed himself hoarse. “Is it really you?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I wanted to hurt those who’d done all this to him. He’d been the last person to deserve this.

“It’s me,” I answered softly, kneeling down beside him. “I went looking for you as soon as I heard.” He tried to laugh, and couldn’t. I stroked his face because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

His bloody lips twisted in a bitter smile. “What a state we are. Whoever said war was glorious deserved to be killed.” This wasn’t him. He was never this bitter. But he had changed. Just like me. Just like all of us.

We grew up during the war. It was a painful process.

“How bad are you?” I asked, trying to ignore all the smells that were trying to make me retch. Charred earth... foul water... blood... decay... burnt flesh... I felt my head spin and my stomach lurch unpleasantly. I swallowed rapidly to keep down the bile rising in my throat. “They gave me some potions...”

“Potions won’t help me now.” He was adamant, resigned. He knew he couldn’t hope anymore. It had been a gradual process. As the months had passed and more died, we had all lost hope, along with our innocence. They had been stripped away, layer by layer, until we were haunted adults.

I swallowed. “I suppose not.” His body was ruined. There was no other way to describe it. I would have nightmares about it for months afterwards.

“They poisoned me,” he said, his eyes unnaturally bright. “It won’t kill me for another two hours. It’s a slow-acting one.” Grey began tingeing my vision, but I fought not to scream or faint. I couldn’t. Not now. His hand shot out and he gripped my arm, keeping me where I was. I struggled not to gasp at the dried blood caking his arm. “Please...”

I shook my head. “No! I can’t do that to you!” Others had done it, I knew, but I had avoided it. Until now. His eyes bored into mine and they were accusing. I shook my head harder. “I can’t. You have to understand...” Killing Death Eaters was one thing. This was another.

“They’ll find the poison in my system when they examine me. They’ll know why you did it.” I was still mindlessly shaking my head. Anger sparked in his defeated eyes and part of him still lived for a moment. “I’ll die anyway. I don’t want it dragged out.”

At that moment, I realised I knew nothing. I’d thought after seeing so much in the war, I’d be able to handle anything. I was very wrong. In the face of what he was now asking me to do, I was so frightened I wanted to cry. I couldn’t deal with this. I didn’t know if I could do it.

The accusation in his eyes grew. The guilt and fear in me swelled. “Do you want me to die slowly?” His voice was quiet, but the pain and betrayal in it made me feel much, much worse. I shook my head. “Then do it. Please.”

He would die anyway. We both knew that. The least I could do was lessen the pain. I owed him that much.

At last, I sighed and nodded. “I’ll do it.”

I held his hand, as I gathered the remains of my shattered courage. Gripping me wand tightly, I closed my eyes and steeled myself. There was only one curse I could use.

He stopped moving instantly. I opened my eyes and looked. Bile rose and I couldn’t keep it down, not this time. I crawled until I was behind the twisted tree and was quietly, but thoroughly sick. When it was over, I sat with my knees drawn up to my chest. I wept until I couldn’t cry anymore. I cried for the friend I’d just lost, and for the part of me that had just gone as well. Another part of me died that day.

All those who died were given the Order of Merlin, First Class, thought it was more for the comfort of the families they had left behind.

Neville was one of those who really deserved it.

I jerked out of my trance with a strangled gasp, sweating and horrified. I clutched my desk with white hands and looked up to see the class watching me nervously, obviously wondering what was wrong with me.

My chest heaved. I was in no fit state to teach. I ran my hands frantically through my hair and croaked out, “Finish reading Chapter Seven for homework. You’re dismissed early.” They stared at me for a moment, then, probably fearing I’d explode at them, they grabbed their books and hurried out.

I sank into my chair and planted my elbows on my desk. Burrowing my fingers into my hair, I closed my eyes and tried not to succumb into hysterics. God, that had been the worst time for a flashback. Particularly that one. I was going to have those nightmares now, all over again. A strangled laugh escaped from my lips. Was I really going mad?

“I see nothing funny about this.”

I groaned at the sound of his dry, grim voice. What was he doing here? Usually he spent all day in the dungeons, coming up only for meals. I couldn’t deal with him now. “Will you ever leave me alone?!”

“Not while you’re like this,” he replied flatly, walking in and closing the door. “That’s the second time you’ve let a class out early. What’s going on?” Damn him, how did he know all these things?

I swallowed. “I had a flashback. The one with Neville.” He didn’t reply. I hadn’t expected him to. He knew what had happened to Neville. It had occurred before Snape and I had faced Voldemort, so we had still been close. He’d been the one who had held me when I’d cried.

“How long have they been coming?” he asked quietly. I lowered my hands so I could see him. His face was tight and his eyes sombre.

I shrugged. “Fairly regularly. Nights are the worst.” I froze as the words left my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that, but it was too late to take them back.

His eyes sharpened. “That explains why you’ve been acting strange lately.” I blinked. Strange was a bit of a mild word for it. I’d been a walking time bomb, ready to explode at any minute.

He left, then, walking out before I realised what had actually happened. I was left staring blankly at the space where he’d been standing. Things were just getting stranger and stranger.

I wasn’t looking forward to sleep that night, because I knew if I got to sleep I’d just wake up after another nightmare. But, as it turned out, things didn’t exactly turn out like that.

The first thing I noticed was Brandy. I’d become suspicious when she didn’t come hurtling at me when I came inside, barking like one possessed. That was odd. I found her settled in her basket, gnawing on a bone. She never ate on my bed, ironically enough. Then I realised what was wrong: where had she got that bone?

I stared hard at her. “Have you been in the kitchens again?” She gave me a puzzled look. Her stump of a tail wagged hesitantly, as if she was wondering if I was okay or not.

“Whatever,” I sighed, shaking my head and collapsing onto my bed. I had constant headaches now; a repercussion of no sleep. I imagined I looked terrible, most likely. I avoided mirrors if I could. I rubbed my eyes and groaned. That was when I saw it. “What the hell?” I muttered, picking it up and squinting at it.

It was a large vial, with a label entitled, ‘Dreamless Sleep’. My eyes widened. It was in Snape’s handwriting.

It worked. I took it for a week, before slowly beginning to wean myself off it. By the last week in November, the nightmares weren’t as frequent. I hadn’t got over the events of the war completely, but at least I could sleep now. It was a start.

Lupin arrived that same week, as we’d decided. I gave my morning classes to Snape, so I could meet him at the train station, much to the dismay of my students. Class with Snape usually meant double the amount of work, as well as the certainty that something had been rammed into their heads and it would stay there. Snape really should have been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Everyone knew that, but we also knew he never would be. Appointing an ex-Death Eater, whether he’d been a spy or not, was just not something Dumbledore could do.

He looked healthy when he came off the train, or as healthy as he could be after a full moon. He was cheerful nonetheless, something I’d always admired about him. I wished I could be like that. I tended to sink into depression, something I didn’t like.

As a consequence of having a relationship with me, I had cajoled Snape into making the Wolfsbane Potion for him. Even after I had ended things, Snape had continued sending the potion to him, which had been rather nice of him. I’d never told Lupin how I’d managed to convince Snape to send it. As far as he knew, I’d just done a really good job persuading him, though I think he suspected something more than what I’d told him.

“How’re you finding teaching, then?” Lupin asked me, as we walked up towards the school. He was still the quiet, well-mannered man I remembered, complete with patched robes (which I knew he simply preferred wearing), but there were shadows in his amber eyes that hadn’t been there before, and they weren’t all there because of his monthly changes. Everyone had seen too much in the war, whatever their age or involvement. Lupin and Sirius were just dealing with it better than I was. Come to think of it, everyone was dealing with it better than I was.

“It’s good,” I answered. “It turned out better than I expected, to be honest. There are bad days, occasionally, but I can deal with them and the students don’t hate me yet.” And knowing Lupin --

“How’s Severus treating you?” he enquired politely, his eyes suspicious nevertheless. “You two are being civil to each other, aren’t you?”

-- Snape would come up in the conversation sooner or later.

I sighed. “We’re being civil, don’t worry. In fact, we’re being so civil to each other, that we’re starting to alarm the other teachers.” Lupin -- and others -- thought Snape was still being nasty to me because he still held his grudge against my father. We hadn’t exactly told them the truth yet.

Lupin chuckled. “That’s ironic.”

“You’ve no idea,” I muttered, as we reached the gates and started walking up the driveway. “They’re starting to view Snape and me as extremely dangerous.”

“I thought they did that already.” He started laughing and I rolled my eyes in frustration.

Lupin had arrived in time for lunch and an extra chair was brought up for him. He sat beside Flitwick and me, and kept up a cheerful conversation with us throughout the meal. After lunch, I had classes and Lupin went to talk to Dumbledore in private.

That evening, he insisted on meeting Brandy, though I think he also wanted to talk to me. Brandy was slightly cautious of Lupin at first -- she smelled wolf off him -- but she soon warmed up to him.

“Sirius wishes he could be here,” Lupin told me, sitting on a chair and scratching behind Brandy’s ears, much to her enjoyment. “He’s concerned about you as well. It’s been so long since we last saw you.”

“I assure you, I’m perfectly all right,” I told him with a smile, but I couldn’t make it reach my eyes. I wasn’t all right -- and both of us knew it. He gave me a sharp look, but seemed to sense I didn’t want to get into it. Thankfully, Brandy interrupted the tense moment.

“Tea?” I asked desperately, trying to get things back to normal. I picked up the teapot as I spoke, knowing I’d have some anyway. I’d noticed that at certain moments I often began wishing for a drink. When I’d realised this, I had tea or coffee instead. It meant I’d probably get addicted to them, but to me, it seemed a lot better than getting drunk. Right now, I was almost pining for a drink. Time to get the tea out.

Lupin nodded. “I never put you for a tea person,” he remarked, trying to grab Brandy as she jumped from his lap up onto my desk. He groaned as she slithered along the polished wood and almost crashed into a pile of parchment. The Crup sheepishly went back to his lap.

I shrugged, pointing my wand at the kettle, which started to boil. “It’s what everyone does here, so I got into the habit.” He raised an eyebrow, as he took the tea cup I offered him. “Yeah, it sounds bad, I know.” I brought over milk and sugar, and then the boiled kettle.

“It sounds sensible,” was his response. I gave him a small smile, while I prepared the tea. Pouring it in carefully, I had to stop Brandy from stealing Lupin’s cup.

“When are you coming for Christmas?” he asked suddenly, before taking a sip of tea. He glanced at me as he drank, waiting expectantly.

I froze, completely unprepared for the question. I swallowed, before saying quietly, “I don’t think I will.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I’m staying at Hogwarts.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t mean to offend you, or anything, but I think it’d be better if I stayed here. I sort of feel like being on my own this year, if that’s okay?” I knew he wasn’t going to understand, and neither was Sirius. Ron and Hermione weren’t going to be happy either, but I really did want to be on my own. I needed peace and quiet this year, and Hogwarts was the best place I could think of. Most of the students would be gone, and I didn’t intend on spending a lot of time with any of the teachers. Particularly one of them.

Lupin’s expression implied he thought being alone was the last thing I needed, but he reluctantly nodded. “If that’s what you really want, then it’s okay. You’re an adult now. You make your own decisions.” He paused. You can tell Sirius, though.”

I grinned before I could help it. “Thanks a lot.”

He grinned back at me. “Hey, it’s your choice.” But the worried look in his eyes remained. He was definitely starting to suspect something wasn’t right.

We were talking quietly when a brisk knocking interrupted us. Too late, I remembered I had asked Snape to bring me a small vial to let me finish weaning myself off the ‘Dreamless Sleep’. Before I could do anything, the door opened and Snape came in. He stopped when he saw Lupin.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin said with a pleasant smile. “How are you?” Brandy yipped and leapt off his lap to dance around Snape gleefully.

“Brandy,” I sighed, putting down my cup. “Leave him alone.”

“Leave her be, Potter,” he replied firmly, bending down to greet her. “She’s no trouble.” Unlike me, I thought, shrugging and taking a sip of tea. “I’m well, Lupin,” Snape told the werewolf calmly. “I trust you are as well?” He knew the full moon had just been. Was he saying this deliberately?

“Of course,” Lupin answered, still smiling. I shot Snape a warning look. He ignored me. I always wondered how Lupin could be remain so cheerful, never daunting at anything tossed at him. Of course, I didn’t know him as well as Sirius or Snape, so I couldn’t assume anything.

Snape was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, so he left as quickly as he could. “Your potion,” he murmured, holding the vial out to me.

I took it hesitantly, aware that Lupin was watching us. “Thank you.” I was suddenly aware of how similar this situation was to when Snape had given Lupin the Wolfsbane Potion while I had been with him, in third year. History repeating itself.

He nodded jerkily, indicated his head to Lupin, before he swept out of my office. I blinked for a moment. He certainly knew how to heighten the atmosphere of a room.

I saw the questioning look Lupin was giving me and smiled crookedly at him. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately,” I explained. Well, it was true, just not the full story. “Snape agreed to give me a potion to help me sleep.”

“Ah. That was nice of him.” But he knew I wasn’t telling him everything; I could tell by his expression. I tried to ignore the piercing look he was giving me, putting my whole attention to the dregs of my tea. It brought back memories of Divination with Professor Trelawney. So much had changed in so little time.

Lupin was definitely beginning to suspect something. So were others, for that matter. How long could Snape and I keep acting like nothing was wrong, when something clearly was? How long could we keep going on like this?