The snow fell in thick, gentle flakes, gathering on the ground until it was a heavy white blanket. It was the first solid shred of proof that Christmas was really coming, or at least, the type of proof I wanted. Waking up to see the Hogwarts grounds completely covered in snow made me feel years younger again. Opening my windows, I tilted my head back and breathed in large gulps of the frosty air, delighting in the way it chilled and revitalised me. It wasn’t like anything else; coffee couldn’t compare to it.

A whine brought me back to the present, and I turned to see Brandy huddled in the blankets, shivering and making it quite clear she considered it to be far too cold. I laughed and walked over to her, hauling her from the warmth of the blankets and grinning at her indignant, dismayed yelps. Clutching her in my arms, I went back to the window and showed her what had happened overnight, knowing she’d never seen snow before. In true fashion, she stopped struggling and gazed at the whitened landscape with fascination and wonder, clearly wondering where everything had gone. I barely had time to strengthen my hold on her before she tried to launch out the window to investigate, typically forgetting we were five floors up and it was a long way down.

I hurtled her back onto the bed before she tried to inadvertently kill herself again, and made her stay there until I’d finished getting dressed, searching for the warmest robes I had and my winter cloak. Snow equalled cold and I wasn’t getting sick this close to Christmas. Brandy danced around my feet as I finished buttoning my robes, making impatient noises to get a move on before all the white stuff disappeared. I chuckled at her antics, shaking my head. Tossing my cloak over my arm for the moment, I obeyed her demands and started for the kitchens, intending to have something warm at least if I was going to be dragged outside.

The House Elves were more than happy to give me a cup of coffee to take with me and insisted on giving me a roll stuffed with sausages as well, as well as sneaking Brandy some sausages when they thought I wasn’t looking. The Crup had introduced herself to them weeks earlier and got on with them like a house on fire. Safe in the knowledge I wouldn’t freeze to death, we made our way to the Entrance Hall, Brandy racing ahead and bouncing with impatience, clearly frustrated that I was taking my sweet damn time!

She actually froze when we stepped outside, unprepared for viewing the snow up close. She edged towards it cautiously, sniffing carefully, before I, feeling quite vindictive for her earlier impatience, gently nudged her so she went flying into it with a yelp. I managed to put a Hovering Charm on my mug before she hit me, so while we rolled in the snow, it remained quite safe in the air. I laughed as she flung herself onto me, drenched and covered in snow, yipping and licking my face energetically, delighted with herself. It didn’t matter that I was freezing, that there was snow stuck in my hair and my coffee was getting cold. I could always warm up and get new coffee. But giving Brandy her first experience of snow... that was priceless.

We walked around the grounds then, letting her explore further and to give me time to finish my coffee. Naturally, I had to drag her from snowdrifts a few times before she got stuck, but I had taken it for granted that she’d do something like that, so I was prepared. When she’d exhausted herself at last, I collapsed under a tree and allowed her to snuggle into my lap, watching a new fall of snow. Brandy was so fascinated that she actually stayed quiet, moving only to try and catch the flakes in her mouth.

They were disappointed I wasn’t coming for Christmas, of course. Sirius, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, the other Weasleys. All had sent letters asking why I wasn’t coming, why I was remaining at Hogwarts, of all places (Ron’s words, not mine). They all insisted I’d be welcomed and I wasn’t to think I was causing any of them too much trouble. That had left me thinking, as I’d realised they knew me a lot better than I’d imagined, but not well enough. In the end, they’d accepted my firm reply that I wanted to stay at Hogwarts, and that I’d try and come next year. But I’d never felt so detached from everyone in a long time, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. I felt... unconcerned, like it didn’t matter that I wasn’t too bothered about not spending Christmas with people that were practically my family. Surely there were rules against that?

No one in the staff had said anything about my remaining at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had nodded graciously, saying he’d be looking forward to having Christmas dinner with me again, but Snape had looked up from The Daily Prophet, giving me a sharp look, clearly wondering why I was giving up the company of Sirius and the others... for, well... this. Even I knew it was slightly bizarre and had admitted that freely to myself, trying not to think about one of the reasons I was staying at the school, and thinking about him anyway.

I wondered if Snape realised why I’d remained, or was he denying everything to himself? But things had changed again... again. Since the night in the forest, something had changed, altering subtly between us. I’d ended up contemplating the entire night, trying to figure out why as wolves Snape and I could put everything aside, but as humans we couldn’t. It’d be too easy to blame it all on the wolf nature, for we were the wolves and their thoughts were ours. It had taken me a while, but I had finally figured out what that meant.

Part of me really wanted to be with Snape, to be comfortable with him again. Not to be afraid of him anymore. And that part of me was rapidly becoming larger.

The night in the forest had helped. It had shown Snape and I still held feelings for each other, that we could be normal around each other. That we could almost still love each other. That I didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore. In one way, this meant all the questions I’d been afraid to ask had been answered. But now that I had the answers... I didn’t know what to do. Everything was just... really, really mixed up.

I’d relaxed around Snape, at last. It had taken nearly four months and while things weren’t perfect yet, they were getting there, slowly, surely. But I didn’t know what to do. While I wanted Snape, craved to be with him, it had finally hit me I had major intimacy issues, a consequence of the past. By right, what I should have done was find Snape and tell him, but this time, the problem was my pride. I wasn’t sure how he’d react and inside, I was afraid he’d react wrongly. While common sense told me he wasn’t going to act that way, the part of me that tended to do its own thing blatantly refused to believe that.

Unfortunately, Snape had taken to avoiding me lately, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. The only thing I could come up with was perhaps he thought he’d gone too far when we’d been in our animal forms. Maybe he thought he’d told me too much, showing me how lonely he’d been and how much he’d missed me. It was too easy to forget at times that he’d been affected by the break-up as well, that I wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt. That, underneath all the layers of confidence, sarcasm and defence, there was a man who’d been pushed around emotionally and was just as scarred as I was. He only hid it better. But it was strange, after months of him badgering me, annoying me and caring about me... he wasn’t doing that anymore. He was avoiding me, which wasn’t doing my confidence any good either.

The mixed signals and all the obstacles were enough to drive anyone to drink, something I didn’t need to be reminded of.

A murmur and the soft nudge of a cold nose against my cheek brought me back to the present. Brandy watched me, her short tail wagging hesitantly, obviously worried about me. I sighed and scratched her behind the ears, wishing my life could be as simple as hers. “You’re lucky, you know,” I told her, letting her nuzzle my cheek affectionately. “Not having to deal with complex relationships and all the problems that come with them.” She gave me a sad, wise look that made me feel she had a better idea of what was going on with me, a better idea than I thought. That scared me for some reason, one I wasn’t sure about.

We stayed under the tree for a while longer, simply watching the snow fall. Then, realising it was becoming hard to feel my hands, I reluctantly stood and walked back to the castle, Brandy at my heels. I wanted to be with Snape, even wanted him to a certain degree, but I had to get over the fear of intimacy. Somehow. If he still wanted me. And considering the amount of trouble that came in a relationship with me, his sudden fears were understandable. They hurt, but I could understand them.

When we were walking across the grounds, I thought I saw someone watching me from one of the alcoves, a figure completely in black. But when I looked, there was no one there.

I was wandering through the halls a few days later, making small conversation with Nearly Headless Nick, who I’d met on the Third Floor, and delighting in the sensation of being able to walk the halls with no fear of being crushed by over-enthusiastic students. It was still the first week of holidays; I’d a bit more time to enjoy it before the next semester began. The ghost and I kept up a lively conversation as both of us wandered aimlessly through the corridors, making sure to avoid Peeves. I was glad I’d run into Nick; before I’d met him I’d been dangerously close to going to the dungeons and insisting Snape and I talk. God only knows what might have happened then.

We were by the library when Callidus came towards us from around the corner. He stopped when he saw us, unsure of what to do. I froze, staring at him, aware that Nick was looking at him with interest. Suddenly, I was incredibly relieved that the Gryffindor ghost had always been courteous to all the students, not just those from his own House. “Callidus, isn’t it?” the ghost asked, smiling at him. The boy nodded. I noticed he was regarding the ghost with just as much interest.

“Where’s Jasmine?” I asked without thinking, and inwardly cursed myself for my rudeness. That had just been a blatant implication that Callidus should spend every available minute with the girl, something I hadn’t meant to imply. The boy was fiercely independent; he needed to have time to himself. “Forget I said that,” I muttered immediately, going scarlet. Nick looked between us hesitantly, clearly lost as to what was going on.

“She’s with her girl friends,” Callidus replied. “They’re having one of their ‘girl-talks’.” He made a face. ‘Girl-talks’ usually only meant one thing for a male: to stay far away. His voice was normal, casual, but the expression in his eyes said that he’d heard the implication in my words -- and hadn’t liked it. I felt like kicking myself, aware that my own disturbing revelations during the past few days were making me mess up everything. I had to get a grip.

“Oh.” I made my own face. “In that case, you were right to get out for a bit.” The briefest flicker of a smile on his lips made me feel a bit better. He’d forgiven me, a small bit at least. “So,” I continued brightly, aware that my brightness was incredibly false and everyone could see that, “have you anything planned for the day?”

He shrugged. “I was thinking of helping Professor Snape in the dungeons. I needed to ask him something.” Nick and I fought not to stare at him, and utterly failed. While we knew Callidus meant well and he was in Snape’s House, after all... no one tended to bother Snape near Christmas if they could help it. He became notoriously edgy, which meant, of course, I was planning on visiting him as soon as I could. But I was an ex-lover. Callidus was a student. I knew how to handle Snape’s temper perfectly, but Callidus...

I stopped to think, however, and realised Snape wouldn’t have lost his temper in front of Callidus anyway. Making Callidus hostile wasn’t a very good idea. From his personality, I had the feeling he had a very dangerous temper, even more lethal than Snape’s or mine. No, Snape wouldn’t have snarled at him. But... I didn’t want him to go down to Snape, all the same. Since the revelations and my breakdown, I’d become severely distanced from the students and other staff members. I wanted to try and get whatever I’d had with Callidus back.

And I was curious about what he wanted to ask Snape. That played a large part as well.

“I don’t think you should go down to Professor Snape around this time,” Nick told him delicately, and I fought to hide a smile. Trust Nick to be polite about it. “He tends to get... annoyed coming up to Christmas. It’s best to leave him alone.” It had taken me a while to realise why Snape always went into such a temper coming up to the holiday. I’d realised, through some researching of my own, that very few members of his family were still alive or not in Azkaban. Somehow, I had the impression he didn’t get on very well with any of them. Christmas was probably a painful reminder of what he hadn’t in a family and all the isolation that surrounded him.

It had been different when we’d been together. He hadn’t hated Christmas then. It might have been the same this year if... things hadn’t happened the way they had. Maybe. I wasn’t sure.

Callidus raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure if Nick was telling him the truth or not. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice implying that he wasn’t.

It was my turn to answer. “Oh, Nick’s telling the truth,” I said with malicious delight, suddenly wanting to annoy Snape even if he wasn’t there at the time. Ah, he’d find out soon and then the bomb would explode anyway. I was desperate to spend time with Snape, even if he was pissed off at me. I had to act like everything was normal. “Snape turns extremely irritated and usually goes off at the slightest spark.” An amused smile curled my lips. “It’s incredibly easy to annoy him at this time.”

Callidus looked mildly shocked at the extent of my words, while Nick simply rolled his eyes and sighed. “I thought you two would at least put aside your differences and have a working relationship...” he muttered, giving me a reproachful look.

“We do,” I said in surprise. “That doesn’t mean we stop running the other into the ground at any available opportunity.” Nick groaned, while Callidus gave me an oddly considering look.

I suddenly felt like I was being heavily scrutinised and flushed, aware of how unprofessional I’d just behaved, especially in front of Callidus, the absolutely last person I should have been unprofessional in front of. His expression was unsettling and made me uneasy, but the uneasiness turned to confusion when a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His eyes filled with amusement, and I had the sudden feeling Callidus knew a lot more about Snape and me than he let on. I remembered exactly how good a listener and observer he was, and started to sweat, fighting not to panic.

“But maybe we can help you all the same,” I went on quickly, wanting desperately to change the subject and to stop him looking at me like that. “What did you want to ask him?” God, I couldn’t properly describe the relief I felt when he took his gaze away from me. The boy didn’t even have to yell at anyone; his eyes did the job just fine. I knew then I never wanted to enrage him if I could help it; the price I’d have to pay would be far too great.

Callidus’ expression became carefully guarded, and I realised he hadn’t wanted to ask me. He’d wanted to go to Snape. It shouldn’t have hurt, considering how I’d distanced myself from everyone, but it did. I’d thought I’d been getting through to him, that I’d shown him he could trust me, bit it seemed to have all crumbled. I swallowed, fighting not to let all the pain I felt show on my face.

“I...” he began hesitantly, linking his hands behind his back. I frowned at the way he looked away from us, trying to remember a time Callidus had been awkward around me. I couldn’t. Something was definitely up. “I need...”

“Yes?” I gently prompted, squashing the urge to grab him and shake the answer out.

“I need to find information on the Founders,” he mumbled, staring at the floor with intense scrutiny. “Particularly Slytherin.” Nick and I stared at him. Neither of us had expected that. After a few seconds of silence, Nick and I glanced at each other briefly, before we both looked at Callidus again. I was the first to find my voice.

“I can help you there.” Callidus jerked his head up, eyes pinning me down before I could hardly think. I fought the urge to freeze and stare at him with a stricken expression on my face. Sometimes I wondered if he ever truly knew the effect he could have on people at times. “I’m sure Nick can as well. You’ve a pretty good idea of the library, don’t you?” The ghost started, his thoughts having been miles away as he’d been watching us in fascination. He blinked, before nodding slowly. Still looking dazed, he turned and floated through the library door. I pressed my lips together, before following him in the more conventional way. Callidus followed me silently.

Nick started looking through the shelves, ignoring the strange looks Madam Pince gave us, while I started thinking. Judging by Callidus’ expression when he’d told me what he’d wanted, and from what I already knew of the boy’s personality, I had the feeling what he sought wasn’t in the normal sections. Flickering my eyes at him, I sighed and made my way over to the Restricted Section. Callidus watched me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

It took me half an hour to find the book I wanted, but I recognised it immediately. Faded dark cover with light copper edging. The title almost gone completely. I recognised it because I’d read it myself. For a moment I simply stood there, staring at the book in my hands and trying to ignore the surge of memory I received. I’d been both relieved and horrified thanks to the answers I’d found in it. It had answered many questions, but formed too many more. I still remembered them all. Some things could never be forgotten.

I should have known he’d try and find out eventually. Of course he’d want to know. I should have been prepared. But did he know the link I shared with him? Had he figured that out already? And if he hadn’t... should I tell him? Was it the right thing to do? I closed my eyes, and wished I could know and be able to do the right thing easily. But life was never that simple.

I couldn’t put if off any longer. Steeling myself, I went back towards Callidus, who was shaking his head at the suggestions Nick was giving him. Of course none of those books would be of use to him. They couldn’t -- wouldn’t -- hold the information he sought. But he was polite all the same. He met my eyes as I came towards them and he knew. He knew I had it. Something flickered in his eyes for a moment, before the walls slammed down and it was the polite, indifferent boy who took the book from me. Emotion broke through the walls for the briefest moment, as he saw the faded title, but other than that... no other sign.

Madam Pince looked ready to kill me, probably because I’d just given a First Year a book from the Restricted Section. But I was a teacher. I was supposed to have some sort of common sense, so she couldn’t say anything to me. Yet. Nick, possibly sensing something uncomfortable was happening between Callidus and myself, shifted uncomfortably and made some vague excuse before hurrying away.

He said nothing at first, only looked down at the cover, a blank expression on his face. Then he looked at me and the masks fell away and for the first time, I saw how he was really feeling. Everything I’d previously known about him turned to dust and blew away. It wasn’t useful, anything I’d known about him, for now I was finding the truth.

He was scared. Uncertain. Fearful. Apprehensive. Curious. Angry. All at once, all at the same time. Emotions churned in those suddenly uncertain eyes and they caused my own eyes to widen a fraction. I hadn’t been prepared for this. Now I had to deal with it. He’d been hiding everything for so long, constantly wearing the blank, indifferent masks and now it was all pouring out. There was only so long one could keep everything bottled up, before it all burst out. Believe me, I knew.

I took one look at him, and immediately said, “Sit down. Now.” He sat. After a moment, so did I. We were out of Madam Pince’s earshot and there was no Hermione-wannabe in the library. From what I’d gathered, ever since Hermione had graduated, there’d been no one to replace her as a workaholic-in-the-making. We could talk here. Peeves or the other ghosts didn’t really pass through much.

“I’m sorry,” Callidus muttered, avoiding looking at me. “I didn’t mean to -- I’m fine now.” He gripped the book tighter and prepared to get up. “Thank you for the book--”

“Sit down.”

He sat, staring at the floor.

It was distorting, seeing him fall apart like this, but not really fall apart at the same time. It appeared that Callidus didn’t even crumble like other people. There was no screaming. No tears. Simply a stricken, haunted, fearful look in his eyes, and somehow... that seemed even worse than any other reaction I’d expected. Callidus had been blank and impassive for most of the year. Now his body and mind were more than making up for it.

I was silent for a moment, gathering my thoughts and deciding on what to say. I had to approach this delicately. “Do you really need to know this?” I finally asked gently. He knew what I was referring to. Automatically, his grip tightened on the book and his knuckles went white. A defensive gesture. Callidus was doing a defensive gesture. I swallowed. Dear God, was everything going to turn upside down?

He stiffened, his back and shoulders tensing. His brow furrowed, and I wondered if his hands were aching from his grip on the book. He was holding it like a lifeline, like it was the last rational thing around him. I didn’t want him to treat it like that. It was too dangerous for that, held too much power.

He started shaking, a soft tremble. “I have to know. I have to find out the truth, once and for all. I’m sick of hearing assumptions and half-maybes.” The bitterness and anger in his voice made me feel like shit, but I held my composure. Barely. He had to see what this book was about. He had to see the extent of this, the extent of actually finding out the truth.

“Sometimes half-maybes are better,” I said quietly, looking at the bookshelf in front of us without really seeing it. “Sometimes the lies are what keep us together, when the truth can only rip us apart. Sometimes we can’t handle the truth. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss and we’re better off not knowing.” I swallowed hard, keeping my back ramrod straight. I’d discovered a lot of things I shouldn’t have and I’d been better off not knowing. The lies would have been wrong, but they would have protected me. Would have stopped the pain that had come with knowing. The hurt. Ignorance is very underrated. Sometimes it’s the best thing in the world.

Many times I remembered and wished I’d never insisted on knowing the truth. That I’d paid too high a price to have my questions answered. That the pain had been too great. I couldn’t ignore the fact that if I hadn’t found out, then all that pain would never have happened. It might have helped. But somewhere inside me, something also said that in the long run, I was better off knowing. I wasn’t so sure.

I felt his eyes on me and hesitantly met his gaze. “And sometimes we have to know the truth, no matter the consequences,” he said quietly, his eyes stormy and turbulent. “No matter what happens.” He was clever, this boy, and not only from book-learning. He saw much in his lonely life, this orphan who could be a silent observer in the blink of an eye. He understood life better than we gave him credit for, understood many things others thought him too young to know. It was in his eyes. His eyes showed his true age, showed everything he’d ever thought about.

It had happened to me, before I’d come to Hogwarts. The unexpected bursts of power, the strange things I’d done that had made the Dursleys furious and afraid. The strange thoughts and longings I’d felt, things I hadn’t been able to understand because they hadn’t made sense. None of it had ever been explained until I’d met Hagrid, and realised the things I’d felt and dreamed of were considered acceptable in the world I’d suddenly become a part of. I looked at him, and knew in a moment that all of it had happened to him as well. We were more alike than we’d thought, more similar than we’d realised.

“It doesn’t mean you’re like him,” I whispered, reaching out to brush the book cover with my fingers. “Blood doesn’t mean exact likeness.” The velvet felt rough and soft against my fingertips. I shuddered, feeling the power from it. Not magic in a sense, but like it. It had the power to change lives, to implant the seeds that could lead to immense glory or the darkest evil.

Voldemort had found this book, when he’d still been Tom Riddle. It had lead him to a road few could have dared to walk. But it had got him killed in the end.

I’d found this book by accident and realised the parts of myself that frightened me. The parts that had caused the Sorting Hat to suggest Slytherin for me. Not because of any power Voldemort had put inside me, not because of my being a Parselmouth. No, it had suggested Slytherin because there had been parts of me that represented the House inside myself. And they had all been mine.

It had taken me a while to realise there were parts of me that would always be dark, no matter what I did or said. And they had always been in me, even before Voldemort had tried to kill me. They would always be there. Those parts had awoken when I’d been in the heat of battle, delirious with the scents of death and blood, a wild adrenaline rushing through my veins. They’d whispered anytime I’d killed, constantly reminding me how easy it had been, how easy it could be. They had made me doubt myself, over and over until I’d been afraid to do anything, lest I lost control.

I’d become afraid of myself. I’d begun to wonder if I wasn’t a murderer, if I hadn’t the blood of countless lives on my hands. If I wasn’t what Voldemort had said I was. I could still hear his voice, echoing in my head during the bad nights, his sibilant whispers causing fear to course through me and whimpers to pour from my mouth.

“We’re alike, you and I. More similar than you think, Harry Potter. Not just because part of me is in you, no, more than that. I know you wonder sometimes, what it would be like. To be known as more than just The Boy Who Lived. To be known for who you really are. For your own, real achievements. I know the anger you feel at times. The dark rage that simmers under the surface and bursts to get out. You want to let it out, don’t you? Just to let it all flood out and to hell with the consequences. To be your own person. To have your own power. To be important for your own sake.

“I felt the same, back when I was your age. An orphan, just like you. A dead mother, a worthless father. Trying so hard to prove I was just as good as everyone else. And the anger... it was untameable at times. It burned so much. I can help you, Harry. I can help you more than you realise. Together, you and I could be unstoppable. Unstoppable...”

I refused, of course. But I could still remember the words. They still haunted my mind, when the nights were exceptionally bad. Voldemort had almost convinced me that we were the same. Alike. One. It was on the nights when I could see everyone dying around me, and hear their screams in me head, that I wondered if perhaps he had been telling me the truth.

Voldemort and I had both read this book, turned its pages and realised things about ourselves that we’d barely even thought of before. Our reactions had been different, however. But what would happen to Callidus if he read this book? What realisations would come to him, what would his reaction be? I was afraid to find out. More frightened than I could stand.

“I don’t know. I have to know. I have to know if I’m like him... if I’ll be like him.” Callidus shifted uncomfortably, his jaw clenched. The expression in his eyes made me feel like I was dealing with something I could only half-understand. Perhaps that was actually true. It felt like it.

“A book isn’t going to show you. Nothing can show you that, only time.” It was a feeble argument and he knew it. This book wasn’t normal. It could show him how much of Voldemort was inside him. It could tell him if he’d turn out like him, and if there was any way to prevent it. And Callidus could go mad from the knowledge he’d receive.

Panic was beginning to flutter nervously inside me. I didn’t want him to open that book, to skim the pages and learn things he shouldn’t know. I didn’t want him to turn out like Voldemort had, like I had. But I didn’t know how to convince him. There weren’t any words that could deter him from what he really wanted to do. Callidus was stubborn. Almost as stubborn as me, hell, almost as stubborn as Snape for that matter.

There was only one way to show him. One way. Gritting my teeth and hoping I knew what I was doing, I gripped the boy’s face and made him look at me. Made him look into my eyes and see all the emotion that book had awoken in me, all the knowledge it had given me and what had happened to me because of it. Tried to show him why I didn’t want him to open that book.

His eyes widened, as shock filled them. Shock and faint disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it and closed it. My job was done. With a sigh, I let go of his face and let him look away from him, let him gather his thoughts and come to his own conclusions.

He let his fingers trail over the velvet cover, absently tracing symbols with no concentration. I let him think, knowing he had to sort this out on his own. At last he spoke, his voice deceptively casual and normal. “You’ve read this book, haven’t you?” He glanced at me.

I nodded, my voice as casual as his. “Yes.”

He was thoughtful, contemplative. “And what was your reaction?”

I didn’t hesitate. “It scared the shit out of me.” I smiled bitterly. “There are some things we’re just not meant to know.”

He pursed his lips, looking down at the book with narrowed eyes. I knew he could sense the power radiating from it, knew it was neutral and it could go either way, that it could be used for good or evil. He knew what it could do, was fully aware of it. It was completely up to him. I watched him and hoped. Hoped so much.

His lips curled into a faint smile. “Perhaps I should wait a while, until I can deal with the consequences of what I find out. Just to be safe.” With this said, he silently handed the book back to me. “Thanks anyway.” He nodded to me and left the library. It seemed oddly quiet with him gone.

I could hear a strange hammering in my head, as I got up and walked back to the Restricted Section. I slid the book back into its place, ignoring the way it taunted me and dared me to open it, to read it again. I walked away in a daze, barely able to move or think. Nothing seemed real.

I returned to my room and wept.

Christmas arrived. Brandy and I woke up to a steady falling of snow outside my window, which I’d somehow forgotten to close the previous night. There was a small pile of snow underneath the window, and the temperature was generally in the minus degrees. Shivering, I staggered out of bed to close it, cursing under my breath and nearly tripped over what I realised was a pile of presents. I stared at them blankly for a moment, before my brain kicked into gear and I realised what they were. Hurrying to close the window, I knelt beside the pile, my dressing gown pooling around me. Brandy managed to leave the warmth of the bed and sat beside me, nudging the presents curiously.

I received the usual presents from Ron and Hermione, Sirius, Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore and Hagrid, who’d also given Brandy a large amount of meat for her present. She was overjoyed. I didn’t know who the last one, however, was from. For a moment, my heart leapt. Perhaps it was from Snape...?

But I was soon proven wrong, as I read the gift tag. It was from Lupin, of all people. I frowned, turning the medium-sized package from side to side. This was odd; usually Sirius and Lupin sent one present from both of them. I pulled off the envelope stuck on the box and slit it open, sliding out the parchment inside.

Harry,
Sirius doesn’t know about this, so don’t tell him yet. Your mother gave this to me a few months before she died. She didn’t want me to give it to you until you were in your twenties. I figured with Callidus and everything that’s going on with him (Harry realised Dumbledore must have told him when he’d come last month), you might need this. It’s supposed to turn blood-red when someone untrustworthy is around and is a threat to you. I’ve enclosed a list of what every colour it changes to means, so you’ll have some idea what’s going on. It’s like a Sneakoscope, only apparently it’s more reliable. Just don’t say that to the Sneakoscope makers. I hope it’ll come in useful for you.
Merry Christmas,
Remus

I stared at the parchment, a strange feeling in my chest. Whatever was in the box had been my mother’s. Hesitantly, I tore off the wrapping and opened the box with shaking fingers. What was in it made me gasp in surprise and disbelief.

It was a crystal lily, enclosed in a thin oval of clear glass. I lifted it carefully from the box. It felt feather-light in my hands. I stared at it, completely stunned. Beside me, Brandy watched, transfixed. She seemed to sense how important this item was, for she didn’t try and sniff it or anything. Instead, she just sat there and watched it. It glittered a soft pale blue, soft waves of blue rippling over it. It was a perfect lily, right to the last details. I could hardly breathe. This had been my mother’s. She’d held it like this once, just as I was now. There wasn’t any way to describe how I felt at that moment.

I spent hours simply sitting on my bed and looking at the lily, which I’d carefully put on my bedside locker. The list of colours was complex; there seemed to be dozens of colours and shades it could change to and they all meant something different. Studying this could practically take a lifetime. The light blue it currently was represented tranquillity, calmness. Depending on if I’d found the right shade of blue. The lily was certainly right on that account. I felt completely calm and serene while sitting there, just watching it and thinking. Brandy was completely fascinated by it. She just lay on the bed beside me, unable to take her eyes off it. But she knew better than to touch it.

I felt so happy right then. It was indescribable, the way I felt. Happy was too bland a word. But at that moment, since I’d first come to Hogwarts, I felt the closest to my mother that I’d ever been.

It took me a while to remember I was expected to come down to Christmas dinner, and even then, I was reluctant to leave. I made sure my windows were tightened securely and locked my door. I wasn’t going to let my mother’s lily come to any harm. But Brandy insisted that she wanted to eat, and she wasn’t too bothered if I didn’t come as well. And, knowing the havoc and general madness she’d cause on her own, I had to come. But I wasn’t too bothered.

I was the last to arrive, rushing into the hall with Brandy at my heels. As so few had stayed, there was only the one table. “I’m terribly sorry I’m late,” I apologised to Dumbledore, collapsing into my seat. “I lost track of time, forgive me.”

His bright blue eyes twinkling, Dumbledore nodded to me. “Not to worry,” he said cheerfully, smiling. “We have plenty of time!” At this, he shot Snape a pointed look, who merely sighed. I hid a grin behind my goblet. He’d tried to get out of coming, just as I’d known he would. Knowing full well that I was grinning behind my drink, Snape shot me a scowl, which only made me smile harder. At this, Callidus looked curiously between us, which made us both stop. Again, I had the feeling he knew full well what was going on between us. It made me feel uncomfortable, and just a little bit paranoid. No one wanted a student, even one like Callidus, to know what was going on in their relationships.

Dinner was a very enjoyable affair. Somewhere along the line Brandy managed to charm Snape to give her all of his turkey, much to my chagrin and Callidus’ amusement. Later, I ended up eating too much chocolate pudding (as was to be expected) and Snape took full advantage of it, by teasing me mercilessly. But he didn’t get the reaction he intended. Maybe it was because it was Christmas, the traditional season of goodwill, or perhaps it was because of my mother’s lily, but instead of becoming outraged, I cheerfully gave Snape back as good as he’d given. We proceeded to automatically tease and annoy each other for the rest of the meal, but in a good way. The teachers rolled their eyes at us, but they seemed to enjoy it, for it gave the impression things were back to normal between us. I knew they’d noticed how awkward Snape and I had been around each other lately.

But I couldn’t forget the fact that Snape had been avoiding me. And that he hadn’t given me a Christmas present. But I could put it to the back of my mind, which I did. Trying to puzzle those things out was for another time. Not now, not on Christmas Day.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” Lavender asked me. Unlike her predecessor, she was not in the habit for staying alone at Christmas. As she spoke, she sneaked Brandy a chocolate curl from her dessert, and ignored the look I gave her.

I shrugged. “I’ll probably go outside with Brandy and let her examine the snow again,” I said with a grin. “You’re welcome to join us,” I offered. “At the very least we could make a snowman and wait for them to knock it down,” I added, indicating the students that had stayed for the holidays with a nod.

Lavender laughed softly. “You never grew up,” she informed me firmly.

“Nope,” I agreed with a smile, pleased that I had made her laugh. She’d seemed so quiet and anxious lately, and I’d only realised it a few days ago. I’d been so caught up with everything that had happened with me, that I’d let everything else go completely. I’d the feeling something was up, but I wasn’t willing to press for details. I was almost certain she’d tell me when she was ready. Almost.

“I’ll think about it,” she decided, turning back to her dessert and Brandy, who was waiting expectantly for more chocolate curls. I let them to it.

I’d been concentrating on my fourth helping of chocolate pudding (highly embarrassing, but January was all about losing the weight one put on over Christmas, wasn’t it?), when I felt his eyes on me. I looked up to meet his gaze, certain of what I’d see, and was thrown when I saw something else instead. His gaze was smouldering, his eyes burning night skies. They awakened things in me I’d been trying very hard to ignore, the things I usually had no control over. It was at times like these that I realised I’d been celibate for the past three years. When I thought about it like that, it seemed very wrong.

It was Dumbledore who saved me, sort of. His voice broke through our staring, and I blinked, realising he was holding out a Christmas Cracker to me. “Why don’t you pull it with Severus?” he asked me politely. I glanced at Snape, who’d gone very still. I glanced at Dumbledore then, recognised the determined look in his eyes, sighed and reluctantly held the cracker out to Snape, who took it just as reluctantly. We pulled.

An explosion nearly popped my ears and caused Brandy to yelp in surprise, as smoke spilled out around us. I coughed and waved it away, picking up the paper hat that had shot out and looked to see what had been in the cracker. What I saw in the table made me freeze. Snape went extremely pale.

There were two tiny wolves on the table, who looked the splitting image of Snape and myself in our Animagi forms. It seemed like a sign of some sort. Right then, the two wolves were chasing each other around the table, yipping and mock-snarling. The night in the forest came back to me like a violent wave, and I swallowed without realising. I eventually managed to find my voice. “Which one do you want?”

Snape glanced at me, before silently pocketing the wolf who looked like me. Shit. I slowly took the one who resembled him, hoping no one noticed that my hand was shaking.

Dinner ended soon after that. Brandy and I ended up spending a few hours outside, where Lavender eventually joined us. We did make that snowman, and Callidus, Jasmine and a few others decided to see how many snowballs it would take to knock it down, much to our indignation. She and Callidus teamed up. They won, of course. Together, they were unbeatable.

I didn’t see Snape, but I swore he was watching me at some point. But that could have been a trick of the eyes, a figment of my imagination. I was desperate to meet him, after all. It was very likely that my mind was playing tricks on me. Still.

For the rest of the evening, I sat and watched my mother’s lily. It turned a dark navy, which indicated growing fatigue. I took the hint and went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I just sat there, staring at the ceiling and watching the light thrown off from the crystal flower. Eventually, I gave up and got up, hushing Brandy back to sleep when she heard me toss on a pair of robes. There was one place I could go. I just hoped no one else would be there. I wanted time alone, where I could think. Of course, anytime I wanted to be alone, someone usually arrived. Why would Christmas be any different?

The habit started in Fifth Year, when I’d been unable to sleep. It had been easy, to use the Invisibility Cloak and sneak down to the Great Hall. To spend a few hours there, just watching the trees and thinking. By the third night, Snape had discovered me. But he didn’t tell Dumbledore. Instead, he’d stayed and talked to me. We did it for the rest of the holidays, meeting every night, just talking.

We did it again in Sixth Year. By my Seventh Year, it was a tradition for us.

And now, I was doing it again. Only this time, Snape wasn’t going to be there.

Ever since Fifth Year, I’d discovered that watching the Christmas trees in the Great Hall was a good way for me to relax, and be able to think about whatever was on my mind at the time. Eventually, it had been another thing that had brought Snape and myself closer together, breaking the ice and enabling us to talk about anything we wanted to. It had established the foundation of the relationship that had become more intimate two years later. It had kept us together through the war.

But it hadn’t been able to stop us from being ripped apart at the end, eventually.

I sat in the armchair I’d conjured up, a mug of hot chocolate in my hands. I curled up in the chair, just watching the Christmas trees and feeling the tension slowly ebb from me. I relaxed properly for the first time in days. This year, each tree had been decorated in a specific colour. The one I was closest to had been decorated in rich shades of white and gold, glittering cheerfully. The star had been charmed to become a pulsing orb of light, almost like a real star. It throbbed brightly, and for a moment I felt like it had been the star that had led me back to Hogwarts, back home. Hogwarts was my home. No where else could compare to it.

I don’t know how long I sat there, watching the tinsel glitter and the ribbons shine smoothly, their gold and white colours smooth and unbroken. The balls had been charmed to have different patterns, glittering with horizontal, diagonal and straight gold-and-white stripes, as well as whole balls of gold and white being placed in between the striped. Candles burned steadily, some of them throwing of faint scents of lavender and white flowers to help calm any watching them. Birds darted here and there, perching on ornamental stars and moons, chirping merrily. Strings of beads had been charmed to hold light inside them, so the tree was literally full of light and better than any torch. I just sat there, watching all of them and firmly convinced that Christmas was my favourite time of year. No competition.

He came, however, which gave the impression he’d kept on the tradition even with me not there. Which was, ironically, what I’d just done. He stopped when he saw me, unsure of what to do. I heard him swallow, though I hadn’t looked up yet, and he took a step back, preparing to leave again. “Now who’s running?” I asked softly. In the quiet hall, my voice was clear. He heard me and stopped. I knew his eyes were narrowing as he looked at me, but I refused to look at him yet.

“No one likes a hypocrite, Harry,” he replied, just as quietly. He’d insisted on calling me by my first name since the night in the Astronomy Tower, and nothing would stop him from doing that. But I wasn’t sure if I could call him by his first name yet, however. I couldn’t shake the feeling I didn’t deserve to, after everything I’d put him through. Damn emotional baggage.

I laughed at his words, but knew they were true. “You should talk,” I replied, amazingly keeping the bitterness out of my voice; a great feat. “You invited me out to the forest, but since then you’ve been avoiding me on purpose. Why? Why have you been avoiding me? Have I done something?”

“No!” he said immediately, and the shock in his voice made me feel a little better. “It was my decision, my choice!” he went on and I could only feel confused. Had he finally given up on me, given up on us? But his behaviour at dinner earlier contradicted that. God, this was just confusing, it wasn’t even funny. He took a deep breath and murmured, “I thought I’d gone too far in the forest, by... by telling you how much I’d missed you, how... how lonely I’d been since you’d gone...” He broke off, embarrassed and afraid. He’d told me too much again.

“You didn’t go too far,” I whispered, relief flooding me. He hadn’t given up on me. He still wanted to help. I hadn’t pushed him away again, albeit it would have been unintentional this time. “I... you helped me, by telling me how much you’d missed me. It showed me that you really did want to help me, that you hadn’t given up on me. That you still thought we might be able to make it work again.” My own voice was hesitant this time, as I wasn’t sure this was really what he wanted to hear.

He looked at me, his gaze sharp. “I did?” I nodded, looking at the trees once more. “I see.” I hoped he’d be able to figure out the rest of it by himself. I didn’t think I could say anymore without doing something unexpected or stupid. Neither of us did anything immediately after that; we were both silent, trying to gather our thoughts and make some sense out of our slow words. Then he moved, coming closer to the armchair.

“May I hold you? Please?” he asked softly, and I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his. His gaze was smouldering once more, and I shivered before I could help it, though not with fear. The minutes trickled by as we stared at each other, before I nodded and shifted over so he could sit beside me. The armchair was big enough that two people could sit in it. No, I hadn’t done it intentionally.

I tensed as his arms went around me, but stifled the action. But he felt it, anyway; I knew it. I didn’t want to know if he’d been hurt by now, but I could guess. He pressed me closer to him and I automatically curled into the chair, leaning back against him. He felt warm, and if I concentrated hard enough, I could feel his heartbeat.

We sat like that for hours, and even though it had only been a small thing, I knew we’d both taken a gigantic step forward with trust.

We met again the next night, and the next, and the next. Every night became a little less tense and awkward. We found it easier to talk to each other, and I realised my fear was gradually easing. I had never been afraid of him, exactly; I’d been more afraid to trust him. Was that the same thing? I wasn’t sure, and I’d discovered it was hard to convince my head of anything else when it thought it was right.

I could be around him now. I could talk to him now, with no rising panic. It was almost strange, not to be afraid anymore. I was happy, exhilarated, almost drunk from the feeling. I began to really smile again, smiles with no anger or bitterness in them. The smile of one freed and almost content. As each night passed, I started to listen to him, really listen for the first time since I’d arrived here. His advice made sense, something that surprised me at first, before I realised it would have made sense earlier as well if I’d actually listened. I began to wonder if perhaps he was right, and I started to let go of some of the pain and the guilt, the deaths and the memories.

It felt like a great weight off my shoulders. I felt like I was free, for the first time in years. It didn’t feel like I was trapped in the past by the chains of my own memories, and my unwillingness to let go. After twenty-two years, I began to realise I could finally, really live. I didn’t have to worry about the dark shadow of Voldemort behind me, for he wasn’t there anymore. I finally felt alive.

Snape was already there when I entered the hall, staring at the red Christmas tree with a thoughtful expression. I walked silently, having picked up the art of moving soundlessly from him years before. But he showed himself to be as sensitive to sound as I was, when he turned and watched me approach. I gave him a faint smile, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re happy,” he remarked, and my smile broadened. “Has something happened that I should know about?” He moved over to let me sit down, eyeing me with wary suspicion now.

I shook my head, the smile lingering on my lips. “No. I just... I want to thank you,” I said suddenly. He glanced at me, and I wondered why on earth I’d chosen right then to blurt it out, but it had seemed a good a time as any, so I ploughed right ahead. “For helping me these past few days, by talking with me. You’ve helped me let go of some things, and I want to thank you for that. You don’t know how much your help means to me.” I wondered if he actually knew he’d helped me by talking like we used to, and then decided he did. He rarely did things for no reason.

“I think I do know how much it means to you,” he replied softly, and I realised how foolish I’d been. Snape knew me better than anyone, perhaps even better than Ron, Hermione or Sirius. I should have remembered he’d always known me better than I’d thought. Damn. I shouldn’t have been surprised, either. There was no point, by now. I had no more surprise to feel. “And you’re welcome.” But I heard the faint note of longing in his voice, a longing which told me he wanted far more than just my thanks.

This had been something I’d found myself thinking about more and more in the past few days. Everything had changed completely since we’d started meeting again and those nights, coupled with the night in the forest and Halloween, had awoken something in me that had been dormant for over three years. And right then, I wanted him. It was as simple as that. Right then, nothing else seemed to matter. The pain we’d both put each other through seemed irrelevant, pointless even. For a moment, I was seventeen again and nothing mattered except the man in front of me.

I had trust in him again, that much I was sure of. Without realising it, I licked my lips and stared up at the star-filled ceiling overhead, trying to distract myself, and smiled. I nudged him, pointing upwards. “Mistletoe.”

“What?” He looked up and indeed, the sprig was floating over us. If it had been alive, I swore it would have had a smug look on itself. I’d forgotten that Flitwick tended to enchant a few sprigs every year and let them float around. God only knew where they ended up. One of them had chosen us. And this Christmas tradition was one that wasn’t messed around with. But then, what had we to lose?

I looked at him, and found his eyes already on me. They had a questioning look in them, and I answered by hesitantly moving closer. And closer. Until there was nothing separating us and our lips were touching.

The kiss was gentle at first, reminding us of what we’d given up. Correction: reminding me of what I’d given up. I found myself automatically placing my hands around his neck, bringing us closer as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against mine confidently, as if we’d never been apart. I felt my heart quicken, before I opened my mouth for him.

Heat blossomed inside me, curling and rushing through me, making me shudder as I unconsciously tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer to me, unaware that he was already pressed against me and not caring. I wanted him. He was there. That was all that mattered.

He moaned, cupping my face with his hands, his tongue wrestling with mine as we both vaguely remembered that we needed to breathe. He broke the kiss reluctantly, watching me carefully with dark eyes that already held a hint of lust. He wanted me just as I wanted him. The thought was dizzying, satisfying, natural. We both knew what could happen... what we wanted to happen.

He placed a hand on my cheek, caressing almost absently. “Are you sure?” he murmured, the whisper almost sounding like a shout in the silent hall. His touch sent lightning through me, causing me to gasp softly and shiver. His eyes watched me like writhing coals in a dying fire, burning, burning, burning. I answered him with my lips, devouring him hungrily, clutching at him like he was the last person I understood on this earth.

“Yes,” I whispered, digging my fingers into his robes. “Yes... yes... please.” Feeling stirred lower down and I groaned, burrowing my face into his shoulder and breathing him in deeply. Everything was a half-forgotten memory, suddenly reawakened and remembered. His actions, his scent, him.

The journey to the dungeons passed in a haze; later, neither of us could confess to actually being able to remember it. I kept myself pressed against him, revelling in the wonder of being close to him again and not being afraid or panicked. At the time I could hardly think, never mind admit fully to what I was doing, but there was a part of me, a crystal clear part that knew exactly what was going on and didn’t stop it. It was time for the primal part of me to take control, the part that remained as it had back when humans had hunted primitively. The part that decided on basic needs; when to eat, when to sleep, when to love.

While he searched for a vial in his shelves, I made my way to the door that led to his chambers. Pausing before it for a moment, I remembered when I came down here to discuss Callidus with him and had remembered what that insignificant-seeming door held. It seemed years ago now, a different time. Feeling like I was crossing some point, a point of no return, I opened the door and stepped inside.

It hadn’t changed in the years I’d been gone. Still the same large four-poster bed, with its dark hangings and black covers , with traces of dark green here and there when light shone on them in a particular way. Still the numerous bookshelves, tightly crammed with books. It was still the same, even to the scrolls spilling in every direction and piled precariously high. He was an academic, if nothing else. Always had been, always would be. I stepped forward, shaking slightly at the surge of memory that greeted me. I knew this place. I knew it well.

I sat at the end of the bed and it hit me, really hit me, what I intended to do. Surprisingly, I felt no shock, merely a calm acceptance. It was the last way I had expected to feel, but this was the first thing in months that I absolutely wanted to do, no hesitations involved. With this in mind, I removed my shoes, the action cementing the fact that this was really happening. There was no going back now.

He paused in the doorway, a vial in his hand, watching me. I raised my head and our eyes met, and I knew the same emotions were in mine as there were in his. A sharp intake of breath parted my lips. His gaze locked onto them and the midnight was smouldering. It was doing strange things to my insides, and tremors began to run through me again, as he walked towards me slowly. His eyes bored into mine, but I met them firmly, almost defiantly for a moment.

I stood up leisurely, out eyes still locked together, but I was a few inches shorter than him. It didn’t matter. The kiss began before either of us were properly aware that it had, but I embraced it completely, falling into the heat and into him, drowning myself and never wanting it to stop.

We fell back onto the bed, still kissing and clinging to each other, maddened and aroused. I barely registered the fact he paused for the briefest of moments to place the vial on a bedside locker, but he did, I knew that much. I could hardly think, completely surrounded by his scent and his warmth and wanting it so much. His lips moved onto my jaw-line, nipping and pressing feather-light pecks against it, causing me to gasp softly.

But I was coherent enough to remember what was going on, my fingers moving nimbly to unbutton his high collar, fingertips trailing slightly down the sensitive skin and he sighed. I plucked at his robes impatiently, yanking them upwards. With a low chuckle, he sat back to pull them over his head, exposing his body to me. Memory rushed again, so strong it was almost frightening. I pulled him down again, our lips meeting roughly, my hands roaming over his shoulders and chest, fingers mapping familiar territory again, stroking muscles and quivering skin. He growled softly against my lips, hands tightening on my arms as he pressed himself against me harder and I could feel his growing erection against my thigh.

My hands went lower and tugged at the band of his boxers. His hands reached down to help me and soon there was only my own clothes separating him from me. Wanting to redeem that problem, I broke the kiss, took a breath and rolled us over until I was on top, straddling him. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips against his neck, before I realised he was already unbuttoning my own collar at a furious rate, yanking my robes upwards.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” I whispered into his ear, circling a nipple with a lazy finger and enjoying the sight of him arching slightly in response.

“Just get them off,” he growled. Laughing, I agreed to the request, pulling them over my head. The rest of my clothing was discarded quickly and my own erection brushed against his, causing me to utter a strangled cry, my head rolling back slightly. God, I wanted him so badly...

His hands moved across my body with a savage roughness, stroking, massaging, caressing, familiarising himself with my body again as I did with his. I moved against him slowly, luxuriously, whimpering, my head thrown back. He gripped my face with his hands, pulling me down and kissing me hard enough to bruise. He rolled me over suddenly so he was on top, pinning me securely beneath him, his lips still moving with mine.

“Please... please...” I moaned when he broke the kiss. I pressed my against him desperately, trying to convince him of my need, somehow. He laughed, amusement filling his eyes, as he placed his mouth against my neck, kissing and nipping the delicate skin, each touch sending pinpricks of heat through me. I arched, gasping for breath. “Please....”

He stopped, and I used those moments to try and get my bearings, shuddering and quivering. I heard him reach for the vial and knew what was coming. It was a plain, unnoticeable vial, for no one wanted the students to know that the Potions Master had a supply of lubricant in his stores. It could lead to awkward questions.

His first finger was cool, but quickly warmed as it moved inside me slowly, eventually joined by a second and a third, moving in and out, moving, moving, moving, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I uttered a shivering whimper, the sound frantic.

He moved carefully, like he had all the time in the world, deliberately drawing it out, driving me mad. The lubricant was more effective than we’d remembered; he slid completely in, getting a deep gasp from him and a strangled, “Severus!” from me. For the first time in three years, I’d spoken his name, his first name. For the first time in years, I’d thought myself worthy of it. We’d both passed through the barriers we’d placed to protect ourselves. Now there was only one left.

We moved slowly at first, glorifying in the sensation of being together this closely again. But it quickened, deepened, like the sounds coming from my throat, rough and primal. I tangled my hands in his hair, panting, as I wrapped my legs around him, urging him deeper.

“God... oh, God... ah... ah...!” My voice was trembling, rising and plunging, my breath accelerating with the rhythm. I was at the edge, teetering precariously close to it, the orgasm growing larger inside me, like something bursting to get free, to shatter. “I can’t... I can’t...”

It came upon me like a wave crashing against the shore, like a glass breaking upon the ground. It broke in me suddenly, overwhelming me, completing me. My head slammed back against the pillows, as I jerked and spasmed, harsh screams ripping from my throat, ending in a continuous one that rose to a shrieking crescendo, with perhaps his name hinted in it.

He held me, and I clutched him through it all. It only took a while more for him to come. Warmth flooded inside me as he moaned and shuddered, murmuring my name and hundreds of other things that I couldn’t understand. He burrowed his face into my shoulder, whispering and breathing in my own scent. I pressed my face into his hair, breathing in the calm that had descended upon us.

He lowered himself back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around us, I curled against him with a quiet sigh, nestling into the warmth of his arms, my eyes fluttering shut before I could help it, but he didn’t seem to mind. I wasn’t sure when I drifted into sleep, but I did know that his arms remained around me. Of that, I was certain.

The barriers between us were gone. And in their place was the returned trust that held memories and time. And so much more...

Around us, the night deepened further.

Author’s Note: It finally lives up to its rating! I hope you all enjoyed this part, and thank you once more for all the encouragement I’ve received. It means a lot to me. And yes, it was deliberate to refer to Sev as ‘he’ in the last scene, with the appearance of ‘Severus’ once. It seemed to make sense, to add to the significance of Harry calling him by his first name at last. Also, for the last chapter, Harry’s Animagus form will be important later on. According to The Plan, anyway.

And, to keep with the Christmas Spirit (who cares if it’s June?), I’ll end with this odd, extremely random comment:

“Merry Bitchiness to all, and to all a good night.”

...

Yes, I’m aware only Vinagrette will get that reference. Sorry. I thought that up at one in the morning. It seemed like a good idea to put it in at the time...