Lupin’s visit was a success. The students were wary of him at first (I successfully managed to control my temper because they were being absolute dolts), but they soon got to like him as he was just so damned nice. They were quite disappointed to learn he was only staying for a few days. I was so close to offering him my job. So close.

He smiled gently when I suggested it. “That’s very nice of you, Harry, but Dumbledore hired you, not me. Besides, I’m living with Sirius, remember? I doubt he’d be pleased to have me at Hogwarts.”

I knew what he was saying was true, but I was desperate to have a break from the school. I needed a time-out, I needed something besides this castle. How the other teachers had spent so long here without a nervous breakdown, I didn’t know, and didn’t really want to ask either. There were only a few things you couldn’t ask your colleagues. Asking them had they ever had a nervous breakdown as a result of teaching here was a definite no-no.

I thought for a moment, trying to think if there was anything Sirius could do here so he’d be with Lupin. I came up with nothing. Teaching wasn’t exactly an occupation for Sirius, no matter his fantastic grades when he’d been here. “Okay, you’re right,” I admitted. “I had to ask anyway.” His smile grew broader and he shook his head, probably wondering if I’d eaten something odd lately.

Lupin left a few days into December. While we were both properly miserable about him leaving -- Lupin was a very good friend to have around -- I knew he was still worried about me and was clearly suspicious about what was happening. He knew something was very wrong, something I wasn’t telling him, but he, apparently, wasn’t going to press me until I was ready to talk. I did notice that he kept looking from Snape to me several times, obviously wondering why we were acting so strange around each other. I was beginning to fear he knew what was going on. The last thing I needed.

An extremely good result of his visit that nearly all of my classes were interested in werewolves for a good deal of time afterwards, which meant I got more done on them than any other topic. I wasn’t complaining; so many rumours and lies had been spread about werewolves, it was good the future generation would grow up with only the truth. There was enough prejudice about them as there was. No more was needed.

Speaking of prejudice, I took Snape’s advice and looked. In the halls and in classes that were shared between the Houses. I realised he was right. While the competitiveness between the Houses had eased to a certain degree (particularly between Gryffindor and Slytherin), it was still there, especially for Slytherin. Despite the fact the war was over and everyone knew most Slytherins were raised the way they were by their families’ beliefs and didn’t know any other way, they were still treated with caution and suspicion. They were the House that the other three mingled with the least. It was intensely alarming, and left me feeling worried. And ashamed. I had been a part of that prejudice once, and the shame was almost too much to bear.

As a result, a certain subject kept plaguing my mind, constantly nagging at me so I never forgot about it. It was frustrating and annoying, but it was my own fault for letting it happen in the first place. These were the times when I wondered if I would ever truly become an adult. I still seemed like such a kid, it was embarrassing.

I hated apologising. I was never any good at it, and probably never would be. But I’d made this happen. I had to be the one to fix it, no one else. I hated eating humble pie.

My First Year Slytherins were in the process of running out the door, when I finally managed to get my voice and call, “Dolus, a moment if you please.” The Malfoy froze and glanced back at me, his expression clearly wondering why I was going to yell at him this time. I bit my lip. Damn. Callidus gave us a curious glance as he walked passed, but kept his head down. He shut the door after him.

Dolus seemed to be arguing with himself, trying to stop himself from running out of the room. Good God. Perhaps bellowing at him hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. Finally, he set his lips into a thin line, turned and stalked to my desk. “Yes, Professor?” he asked from between clenched teeth. His narrowed grey eyes told me he didn’t trust me one bit. I had the guilt again.

I stared down at my desk and swallowed, before taking several deep breaths. I could do this. Really, I could. “Dolus, I...” I stopped, unable to continue. It was like there was something stuck in my throat. I opened my mouth to try again and nothing came out. Dolus was now looking at me very strangely. I was seriously considering just abandoning the whole thing (I was this close), when Snape’s voice came to me.

“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. As I said: once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.”

My jaw tightened. Hell, I wasn’t going to give Snape the satisfaction of being right! Gryffindors weren’t supposed to be prejudiced and I wasn’t going to start them off to be. My indignation gave me the adrenaline I need and I looked up to meet Dolus’ eyes. “Dolus, I have to apologise to you,” I said carefully, hoping I wasn’t going to make a mess of this. “I had no right to yell -- bellow -- erupt -- whatever at you,” I went on. “I also shouldn’t have given you all that detention, either. I know Callidus is a touchy subject with you all.” I spoke like it was sheer hell getting the words out, which it basically was. Apologies were never easy. “I’m sorry.”

Dolus was looking at me in a considering way. I don’t think he had expected me to apologise. Hell, I hadn’t expected to, either, but Snape had. Well, bully for him. Dolus continued to look at me for another few moments, before he said, “Professor Snape was talking to you, wasn’t he?”

Damn. The kid was smart. “Yes, he was,” I sighed, nodding. “Don’t take it personally; he was trying to ram some sense into me at the time.” God, this was embarrassing. This was very embarrassing.

A faint smiled curled the boy’s lips. “Did he succeed?”

“Oh, yes,” I muttered sourly. “If I didn’t know any better, I swear I have the bump to prove it.” Dolus started laughing and successfully managed to turn it into an almost-convincing cough. I gave him a scathing look, which only made him smile broader. I think he’d just found my human side. God, help me.

“Thank you, Professor,” he replied formally, gripping his bag straps tightly. “It’s... thank you.”

I smiled gently. “No, Dolus, thank you. You inadvertently made me face up to something very important.” He frowned at me, obviously wondering what I was talking about. I was not going to go into detail. The last thing I needed was the Slytherins knowing I’d been prejudiced against them. It was a very good way to lose my job, which I really didn’t need. “And if I recall,” I added, “you have Potions now, so you better hurry. I don’t need Professor Snape angry with me again.”

Dolus nodded and hurried out. The moment the door shut, I groaned and banged my head against my desk. The pain really wasn’t something I needed, but it was either that or start screaming in frustration, which I also didn’t need. I hated apologising. Perhaps this would teach me not to get into a situation where I’d have to. Ah, maybe I had learned something, after all.

Snape’d be so proud of me. Not.

Christmas was coming.

Since the first of December had come, it was clear that was on the students’ minds and nothing else. They would frequently space out, obviously waiting for the holidays to finally arrive. Frost became thicker as December continued, and it was soon a regular sight to see students skidding on the grounds. I ended up crashing into Snape once and sending us both tumbling. Landing on top of him had done nothing good for us, apart from very red cheeks and being close enough to kiss. I’d scrambled off of him and held out a shaking hand to help him up. Neither of us spoke about it, but now I found myself glancing at him every so often, doing the same as what he was doing to me. It was like cat and mouse... but who was the cat and who was the mouse?

McGonagall came around in the second week of December, collecting the names of those who were staying during the holidays. As usual, there were few names, but I noticed Callidus’ was among them. I suppose it wouldn’t be great to go back to his orphanage for Christmas. At least he had the chance of having an almost-enjoyable holiday here. I also noticed Jasmine stayed behind also, and congratulated myself for a plan well thought of. It was more the fact that Jasmine trusted him that got the other students talking to him, not the fact they had decided to talk to him themselves, but nothing was perfect. It was better than being a loner, or at least in my opinion it was.

I got most of my correcting done Friday, before turning myself to the problem of Christmas presents. While there was plenty of time to shop in Hogsmeade, I still had the urge to get out of the school for a bit. A sort of therapy, almost. Later that night I finally plucked up the courage to go to Dumbledore, seeking permission to go to Diagon Alley for the day. He gave me his complete permission to go, and seemed happy about it, which surprised me. It also made me incredibly suspicious. His was almost a contrary happiness that made me uneasy.

I waited for the train to come the next morning, which would take me to King’s Cross station. I could make my way to Diagon Alley from there. I had Muggle clothes on underneath my robes, so I’d be able to walk the streets to get to the Leaky Cauldron. With those details over with, I turned my attention to the less-easily solved matter of presents.

I was so involved in my thoughts that I wasn’t aware of anything else, not until someone sat down on the seat. I jumped and looked to see Snape sitting beside me, his face tight and his lips narrowed to a dangerous glare. Not a good sign. He met my eyes and snarled at me. I blinked, and then asked, “What are you doing here?”

“You’re not the only one who has to get out of the school for a while!” he snapped, and I knew it hadn’t been his choice. The man would willingly have spent the entire day in the dungeons if he was able to. While he would have left Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have done it willingly with me involved. While we had good days, there were many more where we could hardly stand to look at each other. I’d a bad feeling it was going to be one of those days.

For a moment I didn’t say anything, instead only watching him levelly. I let it alone until I finally couldn’t stick it anymore. “Dumbledore forced you, didn’t he?” Snape nodded tensely and I sighed. “Well, it won’t be that bad, will it?”

His eyes practically flamed up. “I do hope that was a joke, Potter. The last thing I want is to spend a day with you in Diagon Alley!” He looked absolutely furious, almost demented.

For some reason, that hurt. While I knew he was right, it seemed to suddenly hit me that Snape was wary of me now, and used cutting insults to defend himself against me. While that had been the norm years ago, it had become almost non-existent between us during the war. There had been no place for insults then. When I had arrived here in September, I had been so angry myself that I had managed to ignore most of Snape’s remarks and given him some of my own. But since Halloween and the fiasco with Dolus, something in me had changed. I’d a very bad feeling that it was a part of me concerned with Snape.

I swallowed, staring down at the ground, before replying quietly, “Once, you did... and you did it willingly.” He knew what I was on about. A few days before my N.E.W.T.s he had taken me to Diagon Alley and let me do whatever I’d wanted for the day. I remembered it and bit my lip, as I knew nothing like that could ever happen between us again.

Snape was speechless. He stared at me with eyes that had suddenly become stricken, and couldn’t think of anything to say. I looked at him, my face hard and my eyes cold, and didn’t offer him any comfort because I hated it what he’d just said. He looked away first and I knew he was regretting his words.

What a great start to the day. Why did things always end up like this? It was simply disappointment after disappointment.

He didn’t say anything until we were on the train. We’d been moving for several minutes and had left Hogsmeade far behind. We were in the same compartment, sitting opposite the other, but looking everywhere but at each other. He was reading the paper; I was staring out the window and wishing I’d been able to bring Brandy with me. She was spending the day with Hagrid and was delighted about it. Bully for her.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said abruptly. I blinked at first, trying to let my brain catch up with what he’d said. I’d practically been on another planet. Then it hit me and I gazed at him, keeping my face carefully blank. He got the words out with difficulty, as I’d expected. Apologies had never been easy for him, but his strict code of honour had made them essential for when they were required. “You were trying to make the best out of a situation neither of us wanted. I didn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Your reaction was understandable. The last thing either of us need is to spend a day with each other.” I let my breath out in a rush and rubbed my forehead. I did not need a headache right now. Nope. Naturally, one was coming along right then. “Why does Dumbledore do this?”

“I think he’s trying to be a matchmaker,” Snape replied grumpily, shaking out his paper irritably. “I need coffee.”

“After that statement, so do I.” He gave me a withering look and I simply smiled in return, causing him to scowl. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The journey passed comfortably, the silence between us now being relaxed inside of tensed. It wasn’t the companionable silence of the old days, but it was better than nothing. Snape reluctantly gave me his cloak as a pillow when I decided to doze off. I was almost asleep when a sudden thought occurred to me.

Sitting bolt upright on the seat (and nearly falling off in the process), I stared at him. He glared at me, eyebrows jutting together in annoyance. “What?”

“You have clothes on under your robes, don’t you?” I blurted out, the thought having just hit me.

He stared at me. “What business is it of yours?!” Trust him to get the wrong impression out of it.

I huffed. “Muggle clothes! So you can walk to the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Of course I do,” he replied dryly, giving me a condescending look. “I’m not going to walk the streets in robes, Potter. Even I’d feel awkward with the amount of stares I’d get.” The image of Snape being awkward wasn’t a very believable once, but I kept quiet, knowing better than to follow up that topic.

“That’s good,” I said in relief, lying back down again. He snorted and muttered unflattering things about me under his breath, which made me grin. Unfortunately, at that moment I was presented with the sudden image of what Snape might look like with nothing under his robes, which was the last image I needed. I had no time to hide my expression from Snape, so he caught my flush before I buried my face into his cloak and tried (unsuccessfully) to look like I was dozing off again. I didn’t even want to consider how he’d reacted to that.

I eventually dozed off and woke up feeling a bit better. “Have a good sleep?” Snape asked me absently, when I sat up. He gazed at me for a moment over the paper, before going back to it. I had the sneaking suspicion he was reading the paper for the third time; there was no way he could get it to last that long in the first reading.

“Mmmm,” I murmured, stretching slowly and carefully. Rubbing my neck, I inhaled deeply before curling back up on the seat and leaning against the window. For a while I just sat there and watched him, utterly content.

At last he could ignore it no longer and gave me an amused-exasperated look. “Why are you looking at me like that? Honestly?”

I shrugged. “Just felt like it.” I couldn’t tell him the real reason; watching him brought back many memories for me. Before, I had spent hours just watching him, even though it had annoyed the hell out of him. It was what I missed the most. Now, don’t get me wrong, the sex had been great, but what I remembered were all the times I’d talked with Snape and spent quiet time with him, as that had been what had come first. We’d both been adamant I’d be of a suitable age before we went any further. For almost two years there had been more talking than sex, and two years was too long to forget.

I couldn’t remember half the topics we’d covered, but I could remember them in my mind’s eyes. I’d usually ended up teasing the crap out of Snape and getting him annoyed, but it had been what had broken down the first few barriers between us. It had been what had made it more than lust, or at least, that’s what I thought.

I knew better than to believe love fixed all. Hell, there were times I definitely hadn’t loved Snape; there’d been times I’d detested him. Love with Snape hadn’t been love in the traditional sense, though nothing associated with Snape had been traditional or normal. Arguments had been a regular fixture with us, as well as gripping and insults. But it had been something... worthwhile. The fact I remembered so much of it spoke for that. It mightn’t have been what others my age would have called love, but it had been good enough for me.

Possibly the saddest thing was that part if me wanted it back, even though that was impossible. Snape had done things that I wasn’t sure I could forgive. I didn’t think I could find it in myself. The memories were going to haunt me for a long time. Combine them with everything else I remember from the war and I was looking at a lifetime of remembering. Images flashed in my mind, images I wanted to forget but couldn’t. I started shivering before I could help it, a lump forming in my throat.

“I thought I’d be able to cope when I arrived back at Hogwarts,” I said out of the blue, staring at the carpet. I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I wouldn’t be held responsible for what I’d say. My control would go out the window, along with my common sense. “I thought it’s be easy; I’d be able to forget everything that happened between us and just get on with life.”

“Life’s never that easy,” he replied and I nodded, still looking at the carpet. He paused for a moment, before saying, “Was there anything between us at all?” I stared at him, stunned. He took no notice of my face, instead continuing in an expressionless voice, “Now that I recall those years, it only seems to have been lust.”

Was he serious? I was flabbergasted, only able to stare at him in disbelief. But slowly, anger unfurled inside me and when I found my voice, I was furious. “If you think it was only lust, then the years have done something to your head.” My voice shook from anger. “It wasn’t lust between us and you know it!”

His eyes told me otherwise and I saw red. “Are you doing this deliberately, or what? You know it wasn’t lust!” His face hardened and my patience snapped. I leapt to my feet and strode across to his seat. Before he knew what was happening, I’d gripped his face between my hands and was glaring down at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me it was only lust,” I growled from between clenched teeth. “Then I’ll believe it.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, just as I’d known he wouldn’t be able to. He may have been stupid enough to claim that it had been lust, but he couldn’t admit it because it wasn’t true. It had been far more than lust between us and we both knew that. If it had only been lust, it wouldn’t have lasted four years between us. Surely that counted for something?

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I told him icily, still glaring at him, “it lasted for four years. Lust doesn’t last that long.” Something flickered in his eyes. This was his way of trying to fix things; ignore everything that had happened before and claim it had never been important at all. Saying it was only lust to push me away. If he pushed me away far enough, then we’d both be safe and things would never happen between us again. That might have worked if I’d still been a teenager and didn’t know him as well as I did now. But I was an adult now and I knew Snape well enough to know that this was a very bad idea.

He still wouldn’t say anything, so I just kept on talking. “You’re not pushing me away,” I said flatly and he froze, his eyes widening fractionally. “I know things are a mess and that we’re a mess right along with them, but we need to sort this out. Ignoring everything isn’t going to do that for us.” He knew I was right; I could see it in his eyes. I let go of his face with a sigh. “Maybe that’s why Dumbledore did this to us,” I mused thoughtfully. “So we could try and sort everything out.”

“Well, good for him,” Snape drawled sarcastically, finding his voice at last. “It was very easy for him to organise this; he doesn’t have to do it!” He had a point. It was rather easy for Dumbledore to have dumped us together and expected us to fix everything. He didn’t know the extent of things between us and I suppose that was partly my fault, for not telling him.

“He has his reasons,” I decided, trying to be optimistic about today, but it was hard not to ignore the feeling of dread in my stomach. My optimism was a genuine effort wasted on Snape, however, as usual.

He glared at me. “He was your role-model!” he snapped. “You couldn’t say anything uncomplimentary about him if you really wanted to!”

“Try me,” I said bluntly. Thankfully, he didn’t take me up on my offer. “I had you for a role-model as well, though,” I added and nodded when he gave me a disbelieving look. “Honest. You taught me not to trust everyone I met or saw, not to be as gullible as I’d been. To never give up, no matter how bad things seemed.” My voice was soft, but in the small compartment he could hear every word. “In some ways, you taught me all the important things.”

Snape gave me no answer, but I hadn’t expected him to. On the contrary, I would have been astonished if he had. He never replied to compliments, having no real idea how to (something I really had to teach him if we ever got back on friendly terms, doubtful as that seemed), but I knew he’d taken note of what I’d say and had stored it away for the future. The man could be gracious when he put his mind to it.

Thankfully, we were approaching King’s Cross then, so our conversation ended. We both pulled off our robes and stuffed them into bags. I’d yanked on a dark green sweatshirt and jeans for the day. Snape had on dark pants and a grey fleece. Noticing what I was looking at, he plucked at the top with a rueful expression. “Present from Minerva. I have to wear it a few times to keep her happy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Grey’s too far away from black for you? Your habits are frightening.”

“Look who’s talking.” Without waiting for me to answer, he brushed passed me and headed out the door. I shook my head and followed. If that was anything to judge by, it was going to be a very long day.

We made our way quickly to the Leaky Cauldron and I tried very hard to ignore the fact we looked more like father and son, than ex-lovers. It was times like these that we both knew the age difference was very apparent, but since we weren’t together anymore it really wasn’t a topic, was it? Still, it was almost Christmas and with the memories of previous holidays spent with Snape, it was very hard not to feel lonely at the prospect of being alone for this one. I wasn’t able to admit it very well, but I missed being part of a couple. But I didn’t know if Snape realised that, or even if he felt the same way.

Entering a new relationship was never an option, nor did I want it to be. Firstly, I had enough head issues to make a new relationship simply impossible. Secondly, there was the obvious fact that I hadn’t got over Snape. It was a bit ridiculous to find a new partner when you still wanted the old one, despite everything he’d done. God, was my life ever going to be simply? I could practically make a soap opera out of it.

Diagon Alley was completely decorated for the season and I felt my good spirits return. I’d always liked Christmas and never got tired of seeing Diagon Alley decorated for it. Holly and mistletoe were strewn everywhere and tinsel had been stuck on every available nook and cranny, glittering cheerfully. Candles decorated the windows and in some shops, stars had been put up to wink and sparkle at appropriate times to give the impression of patterns (the wizard equivalent of fairy lights). Even robins had been brought in and zoomed back and forth, preening for those who stopped to looked at them. Altogether, the place was bursting with good will. It was better than any therapy.

I stared humming “Deck the Halls” under my breath and Snape gave me a sideways look. “You’re going to be disgustingly cheerful for the rest of the day now, aren’t you?” Of course, Snape wouldn’t be typically cheerful if he was paid, but then, what else was new? Anyway, I knew how to deal with him when he got like this. I’d have him in the spirit of things by the end of the day.

“Yep,” I told him with a smile, causing him to roll his eyes. My smile only grew broader. “And if I recall, you always complained about it at the start, but by evening you were just as bad, in your own way.”

Snape groaned, but wasn’t to be outdone. “I’m afraid you’ve probably lost your touch.”

“We’ll see.” I grinned. He looked mildly alarmed for a moment, but successfully managed to hide it. The fact that he was alarmed in the first place made me pleased, for some bizarre reason I couldn’t quite figure out. Ah, I always acted a little odd around the holidays. He knew that as well as I did. Repercussion of having absolutely terrible Christmases with the Dursleys. I’d never taken a wizard one for granted and always enjoyed them to the fullest extent.

Before we started shopping, I made a stop at the Ministry, which was at a left turn at the very top of Diagon Alley and was slightly positioned away from everything else. An immense redbrick building with pillars and the entire works, it strongly reminded me of Gringotts. This actually wasn’t the official Ministry building -- it was a branch at Diagon Alley. The official Ministry building was situated way out in the country, but was only used in crisis situations. I had never been there, but I had been at the Diagon Alley branch numerous times. I can honestly say I hadn’t enjoyed most of those visits due to the reasons I was there in the first place. But a lot of things had changed since then. Snape wasn’t particularly happy about going in there either -- he had bad memories concerning the Ministry, you couldn’t blame him -- but he came inside anyway.

Going inside, several people looked up and saw me. Recognising me, they smiled and waved. I waved back, trying to ignore the fact Snape was looking distinctly unhappy about all this. Fortunately, at that moment someone came along that we both knew and would, hopefully, get Snape out of his bad mood: Arthur Weasley. He blinked in surprise at seeing me, but then grinned and hurried over. He was dressed in neat green robes that were spotless and still looked new, despite the fact they were several years old. It was hard not to see the shiny silver badge pinned onto his robes. I’d only seen that badge on one other person before: Fudge.

“Harry!” he exclaimed, shaking my head. “You’re the last person I expected to see here!” He nodded to Snape, but I could see he was wondering why he was with me. It was unlikely that either of us would tell him that, however. Could you blame us?

I smiled. “Dumbledore gave us permission to come here for the day. According to him we needed the break and all. We decided to do some shopping and all that. Actually, I came in here because Hagrid gave me a Crup a few months ago and I need to get my own license to keep her. Now seemed a good a time to get it as any.”

Mr. Weasley -- Minister Weasley to be exact -- nodded and grinned. “Well, come along so.” He glanced at Snape to see if he was coming as well, but he shook his head.

“I’ll wait here for you,” he told me, before walking off to find somewhere to sit. Mr. Weasley looked at me with raised eyebrows, but I only smiled and shook my head. He shrugged before leading me towards the lift.

“Is Mr. Snape all right?” Mr. Weasley asked me when we were well out of earshot. I couldn’t blame him for being slightly concerned; Snape had a tendency to alarm those who didn’t know him well While the two of them had met frequently through the war, especially after Fudge was killed and Mr. Weasley became the Minister, Mr. Weasley still knew very little about Snape, apart from the facts that everyone knew -- he was an ex-Death Eater who had spied for Dumbledore, was the Potions Master at Hogwarts and from the information he had received from his children, was the most ill-tempered teacher in the school.

I grinned at him. “Oh, he’s fine. Christmas just puts him in an odd mood, that’s all. When you get to know him you learn to ignore all the grumping, honestly.” Mr. Weasley nodded, but he still looked unsettled about Snape’s whole attitude. He didn’t ask how I knew him so well; the two of us had worked together for a lot of the war, being the two who had defied Voldemort again and again.

I tried not to think about what he said if he ever found out I’d been Snape’s lover. That was something I didn’t want to think about. Mrs. Weasley’s reaction would probably be much, much worse. And Ron’s... I swallowed at the mere thought. Would Ron even forgive me?

Snape was flicking through a magazine (Potion Making for the Modern Wizard), when I returned. He put down the magazine and stood up when I stopped before him. “Well?” he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Have you the license?”

I held up the scroll, a broad grin on my face. “Yep. The tests were fine. Mr. Weasley wants to meet Brandy the next time he’s in Hogwarts.” He’d been fascinated when I’d described her to him; Brandy practically had a human personality, the fascination was understandable.

“He’s a good man, the Minister,” Snape remarked, as we walked towards the doors. He rolled his eyes as wizards waved at me again, including a group of witches around my age. “Haven’t got a chance,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at them darkly. They pointedly ignored him, still beaming at me. I went red and gave them a wave, hoping desperately they weren’t going to ask for an autograph. It seemed news travelled fast.

“Blimey, I’d hate to work here if they’re all like that,” I murmured, heartily wishing I’d come on a quiet time. “I’ve enough to worry about without people trying to get me on a date.”

“And bringing you back to their homes afterwards,” Snape added deliberately. The hint reached me loud and clear, causing me to even go a brighter shade of red. “Let’s drop the subject, shall we?” I nodded vigorously, knowing now it was definitely going to be a long day. Well, at least I’d learned of another topic never to mention around Snape: my love-life. Considering the current situation, it was obviously something to avoid.

Christmas Shopping was... I won’t say fun, because shopping with Snape can never be called fun, but it was... interesting. Yes, that’s the word. At first, I’d been willing to let us go our separate ways and meet later, but he had refused to let me off on my own and had pointed out that Dumbledore would probably ask us what we had done. Realising what the headmaster might do if he discovered we’d spent most of the day apart, I agreed. In the end, it actually worked out as I hadn’t a clue what to get most of the teachers, and Snape, with years of experience under his belt, did.

Eventually, the shopping was done. Picking out the presents hadn’t been the problem; the queues had. It seemed nearly every witch and wizard had picked today to come to Diagon Alley as well, or maybe it was always like this on the run-up to Christmas, and Snape and I needed to get out more. Somehow, I had the feeling it was the latter.

Snape was becoming irritated by then and I’d been struck by a sudden realisation. Turning to him, I said quietly, “I have to go into Muggle London.” This was something I just had to do.

He stared at me. “Why?” And then he remembered. Of course he knew; anything concerning me was basically public knowledge, wasn’t it? “I’ll come with you,” he decided. When I started to protest, he shook his head. “I told you, I’m not letting you on your own and anyway, I’ll be able to... pay my respects also.”

Leaving our bags and robes with Tom in the Leaky Cauldron, with his assurance that they’d still be there when we got back (Snape put several jinxes on them anyway, as he insisted. And I was supposed to be the paranoid one.), we went back into Muggle London, much to Snape’s reluctance.

It took us twenty minutes to reach the place, which, considering the crowds of Muggles going Christmas shopping, wasn’t bad at all. We could have Apparated, I know, but Snape needed to get used to Muggle transport, or at least, that was what I told him. I took care of the currency issues; I always kept Muggle money in case of emergencies. Knowing better than to put Snape into a bus, I hailed a taxi instead. Naturally, I did all the talking, seeing as you couldn’t trust Snape not to bite off the man’s head. I got the impression that the driver was wondering what I was doing with a man like Snape, which did Snape no favours.

“I hate Muggle transport,” the dark-haired man hissed, as we got out of the taxi at last. I gave the driver a sympathetic look and a big tip to make up for Snape’s grouchiness during the entire journey.

“You have to spend the day with him?” the driver asked me, an incredulous look on his face, watching Snape tap his foot impatiently as he waited for me.

I smiled. “He’s not so bad when you get to know him.” The driver gave me a look that said plainly he’d believe it when he’d see it. I laughed and waved him off. “You really should be nicer,” I sighed to him, as I looked around for the shop near here. “But I know you too well, so I know you’ll never change. Sometimes I even think I don’t want you to. Other times I want to throttle you, but what else is new?” Spotting it at last, I hurried across the street. Snape sighed and followed me grudgingly.

The lady who owned it could recognise me on sight by now, and she gave me a welcoming smile when I stepped inside. I smiled in return and went to the flower display to decide on which one I’d buy. Snape came in after me, nodded curtly to the woman and walked over to me. “Which one do you think I should get?” I murmured, looking at them all.

“Whichever one you want,” he replied, looking sombre. He always went sombre when we got to places like these. In some ways it was almost comforting.

I finally decided on one that had violets in it. Aunt Petunia had always liked violets, I remembered. I didn’t hurry back outside and I know Snape noticed that. I always hated doing this, but I always did it anyway. I owed them that much, at least.

We stood outside the graveyard again, where the taxi had first dropped us off. I stared up at the large, iron-wrought gates, feeling like this was out of a bad movie, or something. All we needed was for it to be night-time and discover a ghost somewhere, and we were all set.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Snape told me softly, looking at me with sombre black eyes.

I shook my head. “No. I have to. I owe them this much, at least.” Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and pushed open the gates. They didn’t creak. They never did.

I shivered as we passed through the rows of graves, trying not to look at them. It always unnerved me, that we walked through a place with so many dead people in it. Looking at the gravestones was chilling, so I tried to do it as little as possible. Snape followed me silently.

They were in the new section. They’d only been dead a few years, after all. Four only. Dudley had been eighteen when he’d been killed. It had been the middle of the war and Voldemort had discovered I’d had Muggle relations. No one had been prepared for him finding out about them, so no one had been able to reach them before he had. They were already dead when I’d arrived there. The Muggle story said that there’d been a gas link in their house, to explain why they’d been unblemished. Voldemort had used the same curse on them that had killed my parents, so there hadn’t been any marks.

I’d done the funeral and been the one everyone had shaken hands with. There had been no one else; all relations on both sides had already died or were too far away to come back for the funeral. It had been terrible, having my hand shaken and hearing all the murmurs of “sorry for your troubles”. I’d felt like their deaths had been all my fault. After all, it had been having a wizard in the family that had gotten them killed, in the end. The guilt had been terrible. It still was.

I stood in front of the graves, unable to think or speak, only able to stare down at them silently. All three of them, buried side-by-side. All dead on the same date. A horrible tragedy, that’s what they’d called it. And it was all my fault. I felt like I was going to make strange, painful sounds, but nothing came out. I’d done my crying for them already. I had no more tears to cry.

My knees shook and I knelt, placing the flowers on the grave and touching the cold stone hesitantly, feeling like I didn’t belong. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t fit in, though I knew in a way I did. I shared blood with two of these people, faint as it was. I was still related, I was still family, no matter what they had thought of me. This section of the graveyard had been used for all the Muggle victims of the war, and I had agreed to put the Dursleys here because it’d be easier to visit them. All I had to do was go from the Leaky Cauldron.

Beside me, Snape muttered a short prayer with his head bowed. Then, sensing I wanted some time alone, he moved a short distance away. I clenched my hands together and stared at the gravestone without really seeing it. It took me three tries to speak.

“Hi guys,” I whispered, bowing my head because it hurt too much to look at the gravestone. They may have hated and feared me, but they were still family and they were dead, while I was alive. No matter what they had done to me, they hadn’t deserved to die like they had. “It’s me again.” I paused, trying to figure out what I was going to say. I always found it hard to talk like this, as it looked like I was talking to nothing. “I got fresh flowers. Violets. You always liked violets, Aunt Petunia, didn’t you? I remember you always took care of them yourself, you never let me near them. I... I thought you’d like them, then.” I went silent again, clutching my hands together so hard they ached. “Um... I’ll visit again soon. I’ll do some weeding before spring, maybe plant a few things to make everything look a bit nicer.” I fell silent again.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t kneel here and talk to them like everything was normal. How was I to even believe they could hear me? Graves were for the living, not the dead. The dead didn’t care about graves. They were something for the living to fuss over and to hang onto, to let them think their loved ones were still with them in some physical way.

“I’ll go now, so.... just... whatever.” My lips pressed to a tight line, I stood up, turned and hurried out of the graveyard. Snape followed me like a shadow. I didn’t look back once.

Outside, I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes and cursed inwardly. Well, I’d just made a grand mess out of that. Freaking out at the cemetery. That was going to do wonders for my state of mind. I shivered and forced myself to stop. I couldn’t guarantee it would end with the shivering. For all I knew, I could fall down on the pavement, curl into a ball and start screaming right there and then. The only thing was I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stop or not. Slowly, reluctantly, I opened my eyes and found Snape watching me. There was something in his eyes that told me he knew what I was feeling, but he said nothing. He only stood there and waited for me to pull myself together.

I was quiet when we left the graveyard and so was Snape. I wrapped my arms around myself as we walked down the street. Suddenly I felt very cold, and some of it was inside me. No amount of warmth would thaw that cold. Snape gave me a sharp glance, but still he said nothing. He knew I wanted to be with my thoughts. All I could think about was the fact that, apart from Sirius, I really and truly had no family left. How could someone be so alone in the world?

As neither of us were in any real hurry, we simply walked instead of Apparating. Besides, Apparating when you were in emotional turmoil wasn’t a very good idea. We walked at a leisurely pace, side-by-side. While Snape didn’t say anything, his presence was comforting all the same. We walked through streets without too much worry; we both had a decent-enough idea of London, and even if we did get lost, we could always Apparate back to the Leaky Cauldron if the time for desperate measures came. I was going to calm down eventually, wasn’t I?

We were passing a book-shop when I stopped and looked at it. Snape walked on a few more steps before he realised I wasn’t with him. He turned, placed his hands on my hips and glared at me.

I felt the corners of my lips jerk before I could help it. I looked at the book-shop, then at him and back again. “Give me five minutes,” I said, before running into the shop. Snape groaned, but came in after me.

While he prowled around, completely unimpressed with the selection, I hunted for the books I wanted. It had taken a moment to remember their names, but it was easy to find them and pay with Muggle money. I only hoped he’d like them when I eventually plucked up the courage to give them to him. I made sure he wasn’t able to see them when I came back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you finally done?” I realised the grey fleece really did suit him, before I could shove the thought away. That was the last thing I needed to know.

I nodded. “Do you want to get anything? I can give you the money and you can pay me back later.” He gave me a murderous look and I sighed. I’d forgotten how much he hated been given money by others. I held up a hand in defeat. “Okay, sorry I asked. Just remember I did offer.” His glare intensified, before he turned and stalked out of the shop. I sighed, rolled my eyes and went out after him, ignoring the curious looks others were giving us.

It soon hit me that I was extremely hungry, and after mentioning this to Snape, he also admitted he was feeling hungry himself. With that firmly agreed on, we both hurried to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t until we got inside that we both realised that we didn’t really want anyone to see us together, particularly no one we knew. With that in mind, I asked Tom to give us our food in a private parlour.

“This is nice,” I remarked, as we dumped our bags and extra packages (and no, nothing happened to them while we were gone) into the parlour, along with ourselves. “The chances of anyone meeting us here are slim to nil.” Snape grunted, clearly having only one thing on his mind: food. Tom, bless him, brought it quickly and we both... well, attacked it. Neither of us realised how hungry we were until we had the steaming plates in front of us.

Snape watched in a kind of fascinated horror, as I poured liberal amounts of gravy on my potatoes. Putting the gravy pitcher back on the table, I picked up my knife and fork and was about to start, when I realised he was still staring at me. “What?”

“Potter, are you trying to drown your food?” he asked me, still staring at my plate. I looked down and frowned. Why all the attention on my food? I didn’t go on about his eating habits!

“It’s not that bad,” I said defensively. He raised both of his eyebrows with a mild expression and I relented. “Okay, so maybe I went a bit overboard, but it’s only gravy! It’s not going to kill me!” He only smiled faintly, amusement in his eyes. I sighed in exasperation; it was all very well for him, but if I ever laughed at anything concerning him, he went nuts!

Thankfully, he turned back to eating before I said something I might later regret. For the next few minutes, there was only the sound of silverware hitting plates and the tap of cups being placed back on saucers. Finally, I ventured at making conversation. “The day wasn’t bad, was it?” I asked slowly, eyes on my plate. “I mean, apart from a few things, but overall it was okay, wasn’t it?” I waited for his answer with bated breath, watching a carrot slice float in the sea of gravy. I had put in too much.

He sipped his tea and shook it gently, staring into the cup as if it could give him the answers he sought. “It wasn’t bad,” he agreed with me after a moment. “It could almost be called enjoyable,” he added, before taking another swallow of tea.

I stared at him. While I had hoped he’d say it was all right, I hadn’t expected him to use that word. Snape was very rare about the use of ‘enjoyable’. I could count on one hand the amount of things he’d ever associated the word with. He watched me splutter mildly and grew even more amused, if it was possible. I half expected to go out and see the sky had turned green, things have become so strange.

“Well,” I finally managed to say, “it’s good you feel like that. Maybe you should go out more often. At least people will stop thinking of you as a recluse, then.” I’d said the words lightly, making them out as a light jest, intending for him to laugh and turn it around so he was mocking me, as I’d expected him to. It wasn’t until I’d said them, however, that I’d realised how wrong they sounded. My eyes widened and I grew pale. “Oh, God, sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

But it was too late. His face had already gone that alarming shade of white it only went when he was extremely angry. His eyes had narrowed to dark slits, and there was intense fury on his face as he glared at me. “Being a hypocrite doesn't suit you, Potter,” he hissed icily, his hands clenched around the cup, holding it so tightly I was afraid it’d break. “As far as I recall, you’ve become quite the recluse in recent years yourself!”

While I know the entire thing was my fault, seeing as I’d been quite careless with my words, his retort was well-aimed and it hit me in exactly the right place. I flinched, but it hadn’t hurt as much as I’d expected. Yet. “Look, I’m sorry,” I repeated, trying to make amends and get him away from the rage. Having Snape explode at you was never a pleasant experience, whether you were in the wrong or not. “I told you, I didn’t mean it that way--”

“Save it!” he snarled and I jerked, shocked at the venom in his voice. His midnight eyes were flashing in a way that told me I’d just pushed him too far, and now I was going to get it, whether I wanted it or not. “Bloody hell, Potter, whenever I think you’ve finally grown up, you prove me wrong yet again!” I gasped, staring at him wide-eyed. “Typical Gryffindor, thinking saying sorry solves it all! Well, it doesn’t, not always. It’s time you finally figured that out!” He glared at me. “You’re just as bad as your godfather!”

You’re just as bad as your godfather!

I jerked sharply, as if I’d been hit. An odd calm descended on me, one that I knew only came when I was at my most dangerous. In some ways, Snape and I were quite alike. One way was that we both became extremely calm and quiet when we were angry beyond belief, when we had the cold rage that was infinitely more dangerous that hot anger. It was one of the ways I knew when Snape was way too dangerous for me to handle. While I knew his was hot anger and he didn’t mean half the things he’d said, he’d pushed the line by comparing me to Sirius.

I was sick and tired of the way Snape and Sirius acted around each other. So was Lupin. Even though they’d both worked together during the war, they’d never stopped hating each other and in some ways, Snape could be called a hypocrite himself. While he was going on at me for still having a grudge against the Malfoys, he still had a grudge against Sirius and possibly my father. Sirius was just as bad.

I know there was a strong possibility I had never let go of my grudges because Sirius and Dumbledore had been my two main role models in life, both of whom had been biased in some way or another. But I had faced up to my grudges and admitted they were there, as well as gone about trying to change them, which was something Sirius hadn’t really tried to do. I was many things, but I wasn’t like Sirius, particularly not when it came to grudges. Snape had just done a very stupid thing by saying that to me, and now my patience was gone. I’d gone into cold rage and the consequences weren’t going to be pretty.

“At least I don’t torture those I claimed to love,” I told him in a voice that was too soft, too dangerous. Any control I’d had was gone now and I was out for the kill. I had so much mindless rage instead me that I had to lash out and hurt, hurt him like he’d hurt me and was still hurting me, trying to ease some of the pain inside.

Even though I was so full of rage, I regretted the words the moment they left my lips. I’d just forced us to face an issue I wasn’t ready to face. But there was no going back now. Shit.

He was speechless. Absolutely knocked for six. He stared at me, eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. I didn’t think of how priceless a moment it was; I was far more worried about what I’d just said, and what he was going to do to me when his coherency would return. I’d just accused him of something that could possibly have very serious repercussions. Torturing another wizard was not something taken likely. Particularly when that wizard was twenty years younger than you, your lover and regarded as the saviour of the wizard world.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked me in a voice equally soft, watching me with blazing eyes that still had a tinge of shock in them. “You’ve been mentioning this repeatedly and I, quite frankly, don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” His expression was one of exasperated puzzlement; to my distress, I realised he was being sincere.

I couldn’t understand this. Had he lost his memory, or was he simply blocking out everything from the war? It was something I wished I’d done, even though I knew it would’ve one more harm than good. Come to think of it, I’d done so much harm to myself already, was there actually a point where I could say, “Hold it, stop! Now I’ve gone too far!”? I didn’t know anymore.

The full impact of Snape’s reaction hit me and I shuddered, tears springing to my eyes. “Damn you, don’t act like this! This is too serious for it! I know what you did; I was there, remember?” I gave a short, horrible back of laughter that was full of bitterness. “God, was I there.”

He was beginning to worry. His expression showed that. “Harry, what are you talking about? Just spit it out!” He’d let go of his cup by now, and was gripping the table so hard I thought he’d leave imprints of his fingers on the wood. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!”

I glared at him. “Don’t you dare say my name and don’t you dare give me that shit.” He had no right to use my name, no right. I leaned forward, so close that our noses were almost touching and locked eyes with him. “You obeyed Voldemort when he asked you to torture me. At first, I knew you were only pretending so you could keep up with the illusion that you were still on his side, but then I saw your eyes.” My teeth were clenched so hard my jaw was beginning to throb, and I was shaking harder than ever.

“I saw your eyes,” I repeated. When Snape gave no indication of understanding, my patience well and truly snapped. I snarled at him, the sound more primal than I’d intended. “I saw the pleasure in them, the excitement! Whether you were pretending or not, part of you enjoyed hurting me that night! Damnit, do you have any idea how much psychological trauma I’ve had to cope with because of that?!” My chest was heaving, my eyes were wide and almost rolling, but I didn’t care. I was getting this out, finally, and nothing was going to stop me. Suddenly, maybe it was a good thing we’d gone into a private parlour.

Snape looked ready to faint. There was no other way to describe it. His eyes were so wide they were bulging and his skin had paled to a level I had previously thought impossible. “Harry, has something happened to your memory? We were separated when we first went after Voldemort, remember? I stayed behind to get rid of the remaining Death Eaters, so you could go ahead and face Voldemort.” He frowned, looking concerned and extremely worried by now. “I didn’t join you until we delivered him the killing blow.”

“What the hell...?” I stared at him, completely lost. “Snape,” I said clearly and slowly, like I was explaining something to a child, “I did not imagine it. You don’t have an evil twin, so it was you.” A sudden, dreadful thought struck me, causing me to balk at him. “You haven’t an evil twin, have you? Or at least,” I amended, “a twin more evil than you.” That got me a glare from him. “Okay, so you don’t,” I conceded. “So it was you! At least have the decency to admit it!”

“And I’m telling you,” he replied just as slowly, “that it wasn’t me! I’d have never obeyed Voldemort to hurt anyone like that, least of all you! And I would never have received any pleasure from it.” While part of me argued that it made sense and seemed logical, especially since it concerned Snape, the other part of me was still reluctant to dismiss three years of suspicion, pain and hurt that easily. I shook my head, wildly, unable to believe that I’d been completely wrong.

His hands grabbed my shoulder and pulled me across the table until I was eye-to-eye with him. He forced me to look at him and I found myself looking into desperate black eyes, eyes that held shock, pain and disbelief all at the same time. “Do you have so little faith in me?” he asked quietly, looking into my eyes. “I never get into relationships without absolute certainty on how I feel about the significant other in it. If I recall correctly, we’d been together for four years at that point. Do you really believe I would have hurt you that easily and even more important, derived pleasure from it?”

I found myself staring at him, losing myself in his eyes and for the first time in three years, forced myself to think clearly about what had happened. Forced myself to relive what had happened. I could still see it all in my mind, could still hear every word that had been spoken. Every blow, every scratch, every injury, every pain, I could remember them all. I could still see Snape’s silence and hear Voldemort’s maniacal laughter in my head. But I went deeper and only concentrated on Severus Snape... or who I’d thought had been Severus Snape. And then it hit me, so fast I almost cried out.

That had not been Severus Snape. Suddenly, I knew that as well as I knew my own name and who I was.

That hadn’t been him. It hadn’t felt like him, hadn’t smelt like him. At the time, I’d just put it down that I hadn’t been thinking clearly, but now after what he’d told me, it suddenly seemed blatantly obvious. Whoever that had been, they hadn’t known Snape as well as they should have. At last, the realisation hit me and I found myself back at the present, staring into Snape’s maelstrom-like eyes and slowly, I shook my head.

He instantly relaxed and I took the opportunity to wrench myself away from him, falling back into my chair. I couldn’t think straight anymore and was currently confused as hell. Feeling cold, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly. “Then... how?” I asked in a small voice, and hated how vulnerable I sounded, how lost I felt. How very afraid I was. “How could it be you... and not you at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Snape muttered, looking vexed. For a moment I thought he was still angry with me, but then I realised he was angry at himself because he couldn’t think of the answer. He glared at the empty cup before him, his forehead furrowed in concentration. I waited, breathless, with part of me wanting to know and another not wanting to. The last part of me just wanted to run away. I stayed in my seat.

Then it hit him, like a well-aimed curse. “Polyjuice Potion,” he said weakly, looking ready to throw up or faint. “It had to be.”

Of course. My stomach dropped and I swayed in my seat, still clutching myself like I was going to fall apart. Blood rushed to my ears and roared; I thought I was going to collapse. The urge was strong, just to let everything go black so I could forget about it. I heard a plaintive whimpering sound and realised it was from me. At that moment, I felt like I was eleven years old again and had just woken up to the horrible memories of what had happened with Quirrell and Voldemort. I’d felt horrible, worthless, dirty, that I could’ve done things like that. I hadn’t felt heroic at all. Now it was the same.

It explained everything. Why it hadn’t felt like Snape, why he hadn’t been acting like he usually had, why there had been pleasure in his eyes. Now that I could think clearly, I should have realised sooner than Snape would never have received pleasure from hurting someone, particularly not the one he’d loved.

Then it truly hit me: he hadn’t done it to me. It hadn’t been him. He hadn’t done any of it. He’d always loved me. He’d never gotten any pleasure from hurting me. I’d rejected him because of something he’d never done.

I’d spent three years hating him for nothing.

As that thought registered with me,it all hit me. It was just too much to take in, the latest in a serious of revelations all year, and I just couldn’t take this one. I had no more restraint left. I couldn’t take it in stride, like I’d taken everything else. Not this time.

I started whimpering and shaking, rocking back and forth crazily. I felt like something was exploding inside me. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything, I was useless and so, so stupid --

Something cold touched my lips and icy liquid flowed done my throat. I drank it with no qualm; it barely hit me I was drinking anything. A blissful numbness centred in my chest and spread outwards, until I was completely soothed and numb. After that, I slowly started to calm down. At last, I could close my eyes and breathe evenly again. I leaned my head back so it was against Snape’s shoulder and simply did nothing, saw nothing, thought nothing. Snape merely knelt beside my chair, supporting me and patiently waiting.

Then the tears started.

They were slow at first, trickling down my cheeks silently, but they soon became heavier and stronger and I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I sobbed unrestrainedly, the tears streaming down my face as I cried for everyone in the war again, for all the lives and innocence lost, for what had been done to me, for what I’d done to Snape after the war and for the part of me I could never get back again.

Snape tugged me off the chair and into his lap, and after a moment where I hesitated and flinched, I buried my face into his shoulder, still crying. He held me, silently rocking me and pressing his lips against my hair, murmuring nonsense words of comfort. He felt like Snape, he smelled like Snape, he was Snape. That was what made the difference. I breathed in and smelled what he used to wash his robes, along with the fainter scents of Lavender and Rosewood that Snape used sometimes when he was stressed out and exhausted. It was Snape’s personal scent, what always reminded me of him. It just made me cry harder, but he still held me.

At last the sobs stifled and I eventually calmed down and stopped, but it took my a long time to find the courage to dislodge myself from the cradle of his arms. He was reluctant to let me go; apparently he knew how fragile I was at the moment, but he trusted me enough to let go. I got shakily to my feet, rubbing at my wet face and grimacing as the rough material of my robe sleeves scratched my puffed face.

Snape wordlessly held out a handkerchief, which I gratefully took. It was white, with green embroidered at the edges in an intricate pattern. In the far bottom corner the initials ‘S.S’ had been sewn in the shape of snakes. I vaguely remembered it had been a present from his mother when he’d been quite young, before she’d died. I was extraordinarily careful of it; I knew how much it meant to him.

When my breathing had died down to just shaking every so often, he finally spoke. “Feeling better?” I nodded. He touched my shoulder for a moment, before continuing. “I think we better go wait for the train now. We’ve both had enough shocks for the day.” I nodded again; it made sense. We both silently gathered our packages, put them into bags, paid and exited the Leaky Cauldron.

I shivered when we stepped outside, glad of my cloak. Night had fallen and the weather had become cold. It was dark and we figured if we stayed away from the brighter streetlights, no one would notice our cloaks and robes, since both of us couldn’t stand another change and besides, it had just got too cold.

We walked silently through the streets, slowly and carefully. Snape stayed close beside me, but neither of us spoke. Just the fact that he was near was enough for me. In some ways, I was glad this trip had happened. In others, I wished I’d never thought about it.

We turned up a side-street when we came closer to King’s Cross, and I stopped. The place had been decorated with white fairy lights that emitted a gentle, soft glow all the way up the street on both sides. As we stood there, a couple walked passed us, their arms linked. The two of them were smiling and content, though neither of them said a word. They barely saw us as they passed by. I bit my lip. This street was a place for couples. You walked up this street together, arm-in-arm, not saying a word, but merely content in each others’ company.

I swallowed and prepared to take a step forward. Snape placed a hand on my shoulder, freezing me in my tracks. I turned and looked at him. His face was still pale and his eyes were emotionally bruised. I was probably as bad as him, maybe even worse. But the expression in his eyes told me something else. For this moment, for this walk, he was willing to put aside everything that had happened and give us both a few brief moments of peace. What was more important, however, was I willing to do the same?

I nodded. Snape shifted his bags to one hand, and I did the same.

We walked up the street together, our arms linked around the other’s waist, my head against his shoulder. For that moment, everything was okay, everything was right. Nothing was wrong. For one short walk, there was only peace between us.

In the distance, church bells pealed and for a few minutes, it really felt like Christmas was near.

Author’s Notes: I have nothing to say. ::lets out deep breath::