February came with many changes.

It was the little things that came first; his spare robes, his hairbrush (for what little good it did him), even his toothbrush. Brandy took to the habit of watching Severus work in the evenings, and made detention that bit more enjoyable for the unfortunate students who had to go through it. The Potions Master began to realise that life wasn’t going to be the same.

Severus soon found it normal to find Harry’s work alongside his, and for books on Dark Material to be found with his Potions-related ones. Like most of the teachers, Harry read vigorously on his own subject, particularly since he’d only started teaching it. And it didn’t escape Severus’ notice that more and more of Harry’s belongings were drifting into his -- their? -- rooms.

There was still the fact that there was the rest of the staff to contend with. They obviously knew, by now, that there was something going on between them (some of them even acted like they knew it was a relationship, which was extremely alarming, much to his annoyance and Harry’s amusement), but no one actually said anything. Yet. ‘Yet’ being the important word. Dumbledore had tactfully asked them to give the impression that Harry was still sleeping in his own rooms, which only made Severus think the entire thing was being viewed with intense scrutiny, and did his patience levels no good. It was hard enough trying to figure out where things were going, without the entire staff (and, it appeared, most of the student body) watching them both with delightful relish.

Typically not sharing his annoyance, Harry seemed terribly amused by the reactions, but he was used to having everything he did being noted of, Severus reasoned, something that he himself wasn’t used to. He was used to being hated by the students, not watched like a hawk by them! Again unlike Severus, Harry actually took Dumbledore’s advice and didn’t bring everything to Severus’ rooms. He still used his own office for doing his larger amounts of correcting, but he wasn’t above asking Severus his opinion on certain essays. Sometimes, Severus really believed he was losing his mind, simply from the absurdity of everything. Which was often, but this was Hogwarts, after all.

It wasn’t just for the staff’s sake that Harry and Severus didn’t completely act like a couple. Dumbledore had told them all earlier in the month that a journalist was coming to Hogwarts for a few months, to do a piece on the consequences of the war and how those who’d been involved in it were getting on with their lives. Since Dumbledore, Harry and Severus were at Hogwarts, and the three of them had all had important parts in the war, it was obvious she’d come to Hogwarts eventually. One of the oldest wizards, who’d constantly held a defence against Voldemort, and the two who’d delivered the killing blow to the Dark wizard. It was an opportunity no journalist would willingly pass up.

But no one was happy that she was coming. More than anything, no one wanted to be reminded of the war, since everyone just wanted to get on with their lives. The arrival of the reporter would mean that everyone would have to remember what had happened. It wasn’t something anyone was looking forward to. But no one wanted to be impolite. However, they couldn’t help but feel that this was like a huge invasion of privacy, something they simply didn’t want.

Dumbledore had quietly asked Harry and Severus to be careful about their privacy, just in case, and Harry had, as a result, been careful to keep enough of his belongings in his rooms. The chances of his chambers being searched were from slim to impossible, but Harry had become extremely cynical about strangers, Severus had noticed. And in the end, Dumbledore’s advice was simply logical. Having their relationship being made public was something neither of them immediately wanted, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Neither of them were particularly happy about it, but they knew better than to argue.

But they couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Both of them knew that, but neither of them wanted to bring up the subject either. They knew ignoring it wasn’t the best way, but they weren’t prepared to do anything else about it. Yet. The staff were beginning to correctly guess what was going on between them (which left Severus wondering exactly how obvious he and Harry were acting around each other), and Callidus was definitely starting to suspect something. This left him feeling rather apprehensive; if the boy was this astute at eleven, what was he going to be like at eighteen?

Ron and Hermione were coming on the Parent-Teacher day, according to Harry, and Severus simply couldn’t see them being able to hide their relationship from Hermione. The woman -- for they were all adults now -- was almost as bad as Callidus, and could be terribly perceptive if she thought anything suspicious was going on. Severus wasn’t sure if he was happy that Harry was meeting his friends for the day, or if he wanted to hide from them for the entire day. He obviously wouldn’t be saying anything more than a greeting to them, but it was more worrying that either of them would slip up without thinking.

There were others to worry about as well; the Weasleys, who had practically adopted Harry into their family following his friendship with Ron. There was a good chance they wouldn’t be particularly happy about the relationship -- Severus hadn’t been a popular teacher in their family -- but he knew they would never deliberately abandon Harry. However, it was still an awkward situation.

Lupin, it seemed, had an idea that something was up between them, but appeared not to want to push for an explanation. He seemed to be willing to wait until they were ready to tell him. He wouldn’t stay that way forever, but he was less of a threat than Black, who could, frankly, become dangerous if he heard anything from the wrong person. Severus knew that, inside, Harry was slightly anxious about having to eventually tell his godfather, but he was acting like nothing was wrong, even if his acting was terrible. Severus himself wasn’t sure how he felt about Sirius knowing, or how he was going to get over his grudge concerning him.

But first they had to face Parent-Teacher day and, later, the arrival of the reporter to Hogwarts. If they could get through them will little harm, then things would be all right. If nothing went seriously wrong, and only mildly upsetting revelations or surprises occurred, then Severus would be satisfied.

He looked peaceful in the dim torch-light, an adjective not usually placed with Severus Snape. But I knew him better than most, or so I liked to think. I lay on my side, an elbow propping me up as I watched the light flicker over his pale face. It made him look like he’d spent a regular amount of time in the sun lately. Shadow and light played across his features like a battle.

Shadow and light. Black and white. Evil and good, always locked in a war, no matter how much time passed.

For a moment, I remembered the nightmare I’d had two months before, where light and shadow had waged a battle, a mirror of the one in reality. Where Severus had fallen and not got up again. I stiffened, feeling my muscles tense and that small, ever-present bubble of anxiety grow inside me, before I deliberately pushed it away. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that. But when is the time? an insistent voice nagged in my head. You can’t ignore the nightmares forever.

I ignored the voice, as I usually did lately. I could bloody well ignore the nightmares, as far as I was considered.

The lines weren’t as pronounced as they usually were, I noticed, reaching out to trace one of them and then, thinking better of it, let my hand fall back onto the sheets. I didn’t want to wake him. He looked relaxed in sleep, finally. It had taken him long enough. I remembered the way we’d both slept during the war, a light, fitful rest, constantly broken by nightmares and memories we didn’t want to have, but knew we couldn’t get away from. While I’d aged emotionally during the war, he’d aged physically. I’d become cynical, angry and depressed, while he’d become tired, plagued and weary. Lines had appeared that shouldn’t have come for another twenty years, silver already had a thin scattering in his midnight hair, though it shouldn’t have come for another forty years. The war had made him grow old too early, just like his father.

But I vowed he wouldn’t turn out like Vanus in any other way. I’d make sure of it, somehow. Somehow.

It was time. I glanced at the clock, which told me dawn would be coming shortly. If I wanted to do it, it had to be done now. I hadn’t much time; everyone would be getting up early to deal with the madness and panic of Parent-Teacher day. I wasn’t going to back out of it, not now. Fired with the sudden determination that had come from nowhere, I gave him one last glance, before slowly easing myself out of bed. After grabbing the first pair of robes I could find and everything else I needed, I crept out into Severus’ office, shutting the door to an inch of closing. I listened for a moment. Nothing. Good.

Brandy, who’d been dozing in front of the dwindling embers of the fire, snapped awake as she heard me move towards a chair. Springing up, she gave me a disgruntled, accusing look, obviously wondering why on earth I was waking her at this hour of the morning. She looked ready to start growling at the injustice of it all, but quietened when I placed a finger to my lips and gave her a warning glance to keep silent. Instead, she watched me a dress quickly with a puzzled look. Fully dressed, I took one look at her and knew she’d never stay quiet about this. She’d become too suspicious about me creeping out during the night, considering the state I’d returned in from late-night strolls. The walks had stopped since I’d returned to Severus, but she’d wake him up if I went out now, which I really didn’t want to happen. There was only one thing to do -- I’d have to bring her.

I sighed. “Want to go for a walk?” I whispered to her softly, desperately hoping I wouldn’t wake him up. The last thing I needed was to have to explain to him exactly why I was dressed this early in the morning. Her expression told me she thought I’d finally lost it, but seeing the pleading look on my face, she reluctantly wagged her tail, but didn’t even bother acting like she wanted to do this. I was going to have to make this up to her, big-time. But it’d be worth it. I hoped.

She trotted beside me like another shadow, miraculously not making a sound. She knew there was a reason I’d got up this early, and part of it obviously meant being quiet, her included. I reached my office and whispered the password, hurrying inside and shutting the door as quiet as I could. Brandy plopped down on a chair, content to doze while I retrieved the plainly wrapped package and hunted for my spare parchment. She cracked open an eye, watching me sit down and pause in thought, a quill poised above the parchment. What could I say, really? I’d never been good at finding words for this type of thing. As far as I knew, I hadn’t greatly improved over the years either.

I got it down, eventually, in the nick of time. Pressing my lips together tightly, I gathered the package and the parchment, tapped Brandy on the head to get her out of her doze, and hurried out of my office. The Crup followed me quickly, for all the world acting like we were playing a highly amusing game. I only focused on this thought for a few moments, my mind automatically returning to the question most on my mind: how on earth was I going to pull this off?

There was no sound coming from the bedroom when I returned, and my head swam with relief. I had to stop for a few seconds to relax and mentally steel myself, before creeping back into the room. I paused for a moment, eyes drifting to rest on him once more. Not for the first time, I wondered how on earth everything had happened as it had. Would things have turned out differently if Severus hadn’t been the one to supervise my Animagus training? Most likely.

The amount of ‘what-ifs’ was amazing, considering all the paths they could have led to. It was frightening when one thought about it; all the places I could have ended up in, all the ways my life could have turned out. It was almost as difficult and intricate as Divination, and just as fragile. Needless to say, I didn’t think about them that often. But I did wonder, sometimes, how on earth Severus Snape could have... fallen for me. When I was at my lowest, I often decided I wasn’t good enough for him. But common sense told me never to tell him anything like that, unless I wanted another clout across the face to wake me up. Thankfully, I knew better than that. But I still wondered if I really deserved him, especially with all the problems a relationship with me brought.

I hadn’t much time left. Holding my breath, I placed the package and parchment on the bedside locker beside him. The books I’d bought him the time we’d gone shopping before Christmas. When I’d found out that it wasn’t really him that had tortured me. I still shivered when the memory flashed in my head, but the urge to scream was gradually getting less and less. I was making progress. It was slow, admittedly, but progress nonetheless.

I stood back a step and looked at the locker, chewing my lip absently. A lot of things had changed since I’d bought those books. I’d changed and perhaps to a degree, so had Severus. At the time, I’d viewed him very differently to how I viewed him now, and suddenly, books didn’t seem the proper (late) Christmas present. In fact, they seemed terribly insignificant. I’d been waiting for the right time to give him the package and this seemed as good a time as any. And the Parent-Teacher day would mean he couldn’t confront me directly about it. For some bizarre reason, I felt quite embarrassed about the whole thing all of a sudden.

I glanced at the clock. Nearly time. Everyone would be getting up now, and chaos would ensue. Unlike us, the students viewed Parent-Teacher day with great enjoyment as it was the day they were all allowed go to Hogsmeade. It was a better day for them than for us, which was extremely ironic. Looking at Brandy, who was trying vainly to get back to sleep, I murmured, “Want to go for a walk around the lake before we eat?”

She gave me a bleary, depressed look, obviously realising her chance to sleep was gone. With a muffled whine, she staggered towards the door, resigned to the day ahead. Laughing quietly, I followed her, trying to ignore the nervous, anticipating churning in my stomach. And the very bad feeling I had, that just wouldn’t go away.

Parent-Teacher days hadn’t been around when I’d been a student in Hogwarts, obviously, so I had only a vague idea of what to expect. I’d tried to ask some of the other teachers what happened at them, but they’d all been surprisingly unyielding with their knowledge and experience. I knew that they’d been brought in for parents to have a better idea of their children’s progress and to have a better idea of their children in general. As the teachers usually spent more time with them than their own parents did, it simply made more sense. There was another reason for the meetings, a much less-known one; the idea was that if the parents and teachers discovered any... upsetting details about any child and caught them in time, any intending disasters could be diverted. It was how people wanted to avoid the blossoming of the next Voldemort.

Of course, the rumour going around said that the next Voldemort was already here, in the guise of Callidus Riddle. Naturally, it was ignored in the school, apart from those who simply disliked Callidus. They encouraged the rumour, but found they got nowhere, as Callidus simply paid no attention to them anyway. But it was worrying, and we’d been told in advance to be extremely careful if any parent brought Callidus up in the conversation.

As far as I knew, Jasmine and the others were dragging Callidus to Hogsmeade. He mightn’t have any parents coming for the day, but they were determined he’d enjoy the trip to Hogsmeade anyway. It was the only way to get the entire student population out of the school for the day, with the result that all years, from First to Seventh, were allowed to the village. Apart from the students who knew they were going to get a bad report (they were either worried sick or deliberately unconcerned, depending on their natures), they all usually enjoyed the day.

I knew the other teachers had never enjoyed these days, no matter what happened, but I didn’t really know why. But it was impossible to ignore the various states of panic they were all in, and, in Severus’ case, the anger he was feeling. I began to feel quite worried, as we all ate an alarmingly light breakfast (I had the distinct feeling I wasn’t the only one unable to look at food without feeling sick), before we hunted the students off, who would, luckily, be gone before their parents would start to trickle in. My stomach churned, nervously clenching the little I’d eaten into a tight ball. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so nervous.

Brandy took one look at the amount of people coming in and, unsurprisingly, balked in sheer horror. “Go and annoy Hedwig in the Owlery,” I murmured quietly to her, before she took off at top speed, and I had to start smiling and nodding at parents, shaking their hands and giving the impression that I was a nice, stable teacher. But they knew better. Much, much better.

I soon realised why no one enjoyed the day.

Parents weren’t exactly willing to admit their children were anything but perfect. After having over ten parents giving me clear hints that they thought it was my teaching methods that were at fault -- not the attention span of their children -- my patience was growing thin. I was the only one to blame, for some peculiar reason. When I tactfully tried to mention that perhaps they were still dealing with the after-effects of the war, they looked at me like I’d lost my mind. It was clearly wrong to bring up the war, which I really should have already known. One father almost managed to lunge at me across the table, much to my horror and his wife’s shame. Things would have become nasty if Hagrid hadn’t intervened. Severus also had to stop another father from trying to curse me, who’d decided I was deliberately failing his daughter. By then, all I wanted was to spent the rest of the day in bed, and told Severus as much when we were given a short break. He looked at me in amusement, and said he would have willingly joined me. Naturally, I went bright red and hoped no one had overheard him.

At around four o’ clock, when the influx of parents had died down to the ending trickle, Ron and Hermione showed up. I was so relieved to finally meet people who weren’t going to curse me, jinx or hex me, or give me a guilt-trip, I nearly hugged them. In fact, Hermione did hug me, while I politely kissed her on the cheek. Snape, whose latest set of parents had just left, glanced over and nodded to them, before his next set of parents showed up. Hermione smiled and nodded back, while Ron barely jerked his head, muttering, “Slimy git...” under his breath.

“Ron!” Hermione cried in exasperation, while I gave him a pointed look. It was obvious Hermione had lectured him on being polite on the subject of Snape before they’d come. I hid a smile. It was something I’d expected her to do. Some things just never changed.

“Well, he is!” Ron protested, looking put-out that neither of us seemed to be getting into the swing of let’s-diss-Snape-to-hell-and-back. Hermione wouldn’t because she wasn’t that kind of person, and I couldn’t because he was my lover, albeit, my yet-to-be announced lover, but the rules were all the same. One did not sneer at their lover behind their back. Being drunk to the eyeballs was sometimes a plausible excuse, but not always. And, in the end, we were adults now. We couldn’t act like kids forever, no matter how satisfying it felt.

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione gave him another sharp look. “Fine. I’ll be nice for today... but it’s not my fault if we simply don’t meet, or anything.” I sighed, while Hermione pressed her lips in a very McGonagall-ish way.

“In other words,” she said tartly, “you’re going to avoid him for the whole day.”

Ron beamed. “Precisely!”

“Relax, Hermione,” I told her dryly. “Seve--Snape will probably avoid us as well. He most likely has far too many bad memories involving us.” If only they knew.

Ron raised his eyebrows, noticing the way I’d stumbled on Severus’ name. Despite the way he acted, Ron was smart and a better listener than he was given credit for. Since it was his father he essentially worked for, Ron had to be good at his job. He opened his mouth to comment on it -- he was bursting to, I could tell -- but a look from Hermione shut his mouth again. I should have paid attention to that hint. A pity I didn’t.

The parents were in the last stages of the trickle and most were simply there for conversation, rather than a child’s update, so the three of us were allowed to sit down and talk properly in the staff room. Severus raised an eyebrow at me as we came in, and I shrugged, careful not to make the action to obvious. He looked amused, but simply returned to his conversation with Madam Hooch. I sincerely hoped they hadn’t been drinking heavily -- they tended to argue something fierce over the silliest things.

I hadn’t been exactly sure what to expect when Ron and Hermione arrived, and that had bothered me. I’d known that I would eventually bring up Jonathan in the conversation, as he was Hermione’s nephew, but beyond that I hadn’t had a clue. The war had changed all of us, caused us to drift apart slightly when we wouldn’t have in other circumstances. The fact that Hermione and Ron were a couple had made being with them slightly awkward, particularly when I was giving the impression of being single and unconcerned about it. They pitied me, I knew that much; it was in their eyes when they looked at me, a strange mixture of gentle exasperation and sad pity. I knew Hermione desperately wanted to introduce me to the unattached witches she knew, but was far too polite to actually do it in a blatant way, for fear of overstepping the boundaries. I was bloody Harry Potter, the wizarding world’s most eligible young man! There were many parents who wouldn’t mind me being introduced as their daughter’s latest (and hopefully permanent) boyfriend. But.

There was still the pretty big ‘but’ in the form of Severus Snape, a ‘but’ that wasn’t exactly going to go away, not that I wanted him to. Only thing was... it was going to be a bleedin’ huge scandal when it broke out. I didn’t want to put him through all that. I was used to having my life dragged through the papers. He wasn’t. Assuming we managed to stay together, of course.

I soon realised why I’d been at a loss for what to say to them. We’d drifted apart even more than I’d realised. We talked of course, but it was Ron and Hermione who did most of the talking, while I listened and realised I simply didn’t want to talk. I wanted to go to bed and sleep. Or have sex. Or spend a few hours bothering Severus, Hedwig and Brandy and showing them I loved them. Hell, I was even up for correcting! In short, I was willing to do anything, simply to get out of this conversation. And that frightened me, considering the two people sitting before me had been my two very best friends for many years. But somewhere along the way, my life had changed and they just didn’t fit into it anymore.

It took me a while, but I finally figured out the second reason. I was watching the two of them while they talked, sipping a mug of tea as I did so. Realisation hit me like a curse and I almost spilled the damn tea, my eyes wide. It was them. It was them. They were the reason I didn’t want to spend time with them, and I’d been a fool not to recognise it!

It was in the way they acted towards each other, touched each other, looked at each other. It was them, the whole Ron-and-Hermione-as-a-couple thing, that did it. They’d had everything I’d desperately wanted; the intimacy, the care, the love, the special looks, the smiles, the soft touches they inexplicably just knew about. It was everything I’d wanted with Severus, though I hadn’t realised it. Particularly since I’d been hating him at the time. Apparently, I’d still missed him even when I’d been hating his guts, surprise, surprise. And in a way to cope with the loneliness, I’d pushed Ron and Hermione away, thinking that if I didn’t have to see them act so in love, I wouldn’t miss Sev. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked, and my friendships were now in severe trouble.

And there was still the fact that my relationship with the Potions Master mightn’t be accepted. There were plenty of reasons for it not to be, but plenty more for it to be. In the end, if I had to tell anyone first, I wanted it to be Hermione. She would probably accept it more easily than Ron, as she’d been more tolerant of Severus in our later years at school. But I was still worried because I really didn’t know how either of them would react. For people I’d known for nearly twelve years, it was alarming I didn’t know them that well anymore.

They soon realised I wasn’t putting any effort into the conversation, and when I realised the same, I quickly brought up Jonathan, feeling I had to redeem my terrible behaviour somehow. Hermione was greatly interested, as I’d expected her to be, and so was Ron, though he had no one related to him coming for a while yet. (Bill’s little girl still had a few years to go, much to my relief. The thought of teaching any Weasley myself made me feel rather nervous.) In an effort to get away for a few moments (I’m ashamed to say), I volunteered to get something of Jonathan’s that had impressed me from my office to show her. Naturally, she was thrilled, so I obediently headed towards my office.

I hadn’t realised anyone had been following me (seemed I really did need sleep, after all), until I was in my office and Severus glided inside, nearly causing me to jump a foot in the air. He grinned at my jittery reaction which only made me scowl at him. “You’ve managed to nearly give me a heart attack. Congratulations.”

“My main objective in life,” he agreed, leaning against a chair beside me. “How’s it going with them?” He knew me better than I’d thought. Why did that still surprise me?

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, shrugging. “I’ve finally realised we’ve drifted apart, and they just don’t seem to fit into whatever my life is now. Not like how you, or Brandy, or Callidus seem to. I don’t know what to do. Hell, I was even up for correcting to get out of that conversation!”

“And we all know it’s bad when you’re willing to correct,” he answered dryly, and I smiled. “Maybe you’re just seeing a storm in a teacup? It’s probably not that bad.” But he knew from my face that it was. And he didn’t know how to help me.

“I should probably make more of an effort,” I mused, absently picking up Jonathan’s project from the pile near the window. “They’re a couple; of course they get on better. They live with each other! I’m probably only being paranoid as usual.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, but not sounding like he agreed. “I have to get back. Must say something spiteful to Hooch for her suggesting she get me a box set of shampoo for my birthday.” He growled. He always called her by her surname when he was pissed off at her.

I grinned. “Okay.” I thought that would be it. I was wrong, oh, so wrong.

He leaned over and kissed me quickly but thoroughly, holding onto me since I was about ready to keel over in surprise. Pressing something into my hands, he turned in a billow of dark robes and hurried back out into the hall, leaving me standing where I was, staring at the open door in shock. Blinking, I finally remembered he had pressed something into my hand, and stared down at it. A folded piece of parchment sat calmly in my palm. Two words were written on it when I opened it: Thank you.

I’d forgotten that I’d given him his long-overdue Christmas present earlier that morning, in the chaos of Parent-Teacher day. I stared at it, stunned and not exactly sure how to feel. A smile slowly curved my lips, followed by a warm feeling in my chest. This made all the worry I’d felt so worth it.

“Harry?”

Her voice made me jump. “Hermione!” Oh, God, I’d forgotten all about her and Ron still in the Great Hall! “Sorry, I got side-tracked!” A horrible thought soon occurred to me: how long had she been standing there? How much had she heard between Sev and myself?

I soon got my answer. “I noticed,” she said with a smile, closing the door after her. I gulped, but tried not to make the action that obvious. “How long have you two been together?” Oh, shit!

I swallowed again and it almost hurt. “Since Christmas.”

“Really? Well, you’ve been busy!” She laughed as she spoke, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. For a moment, I didn’t know how to react. How did one exactly reply to finding out one of their friends knew about the relationship one had been keeping secret?

“Aren’t you mad? Shocked? Ready to explode?” I asked incredulously. This wasn’t exactly going as I’d expected it to. Granted, my imagining had been Hermione exploding and threatening to end our friendship unless I ended it between Severus (again). Having her take it calmly... okay, I’d been imagining the worst, I suppose.

She shrugged. “I’m a bit shocked, but not much. I’d been suspecting something for a while. Jonathan mentioned you and Snape had become much more nicer to each other in one of his letters, so something had obviously changed. At first, I thought you’d only become friends, but today ended that thought. It was obvious you two were closer, from the way you looked at each other when you thought no one else was looking. And the way you slipped up on his name. And your meeting just now,” she added, almost like an afterthought. I went red, much to her amusement.

“But this is Severus Snape!” I went on, trying desperately for her to realise what was really happening, even though she already seemed to. I’d had all this planned for whenever I did tell them, so I was still getting it all out, somehow. I hadn’t done all this worrying and planning for nothing! “Our old Potions Master and resident grouch! Plus, there’s the rather obvious age difference!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself to break up with him?” she asked slowly, looking at me strangely. I let out a muffled growl of frustration.

“No! I just don’t know why you’re taking all this so... calmly! Like it’s normal!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to make a song and dance about it? Honestly, Harry, that is being a bit melodramatic.” My jaw dropped, and she burst out laughing. “Oh, Harry! Of course I’m surprised! You’re with our old teacher, for God’s sake. That’s definitely not normal. But you seem happy, if a bit... preoccupied.” A quick frown from her, a guilty shift from me. “If he makes you happy, then that’s okay. I’ll still be your friend and I’ll stick by you. Judging from the fact that no one else knows about it, I’d say the papers haven’t found out yet,” she added thoughtfully. I nodded. “Well, when it does get out, you’ll need all the support you can get.”

“I’ll be glad of you, then,” I muttered, causing her to smile. A sudden thought hit me and my mouth dropped open in horror. “Ron! He doesn’t know, does he?” Panic gripped me with icy fingers, as my eyes widened. While Hermione would accept it, he most definitely wouldn’t. In fact, he’d probably dump me into a room and leave me there until I’d ‘come to my senses’. Or worse.

Hermione gripped my shoulders tightly. “Relax! He doesn’t know yet! He just thinks the two of you are friends.”

“And he’s caught up enough just thinking that,” I muttered bitterly. This wasn’t going to be easy. But when had anything relating to me ever been easy?

She avoided my eyes, but there was no ignoring the guilty expression on her face. “Well, yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “But he’s your friend, Harry. He’ll be outraged by it for a while, but he’ll get over it. I promise, considering I’m going to give him hell over it. He’s not going to abandon you just because you’re with a man twenty years older than you!” She paused. “When it comes out like that, it does seem a bit wrong, doesn’t it?” I nodded, grinning. She winced.

I blinked, remembering what was still in my hand. “Oh, here,” I said, handing her Jonathan’s project and grinning at her interested expression. “I’ll get Ron and bring him here before one of the teachers start talking and won’t let go.” I crossed to the door and flung it open --

-- and found myself staring at a surprised Callidus, his hand frozen halfway to the door-handle. Peeking up at me, hidden under the hems of his robes, was Brandy. I stared at them for a moment, before finally getting out, “Callidus? What are you doing here?” What I was seeing finally registered in my head and I yelped, “Brandy?! I thought I told you to stay in the Owlery!” She gave me a sheepish look.

“She did,” Callidus said quickly. “I found her there.” I stared at him blankly, unable to think straight. I really needed sleep. Note to self: Never get up that early again, come hell, rain, shine or dragons.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, coming up behind me. She blanched at the sight of Callidus and Brandy, then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I gave her a weak smile. Callidus was looking at the two of us with something like alarm on his face. Brandy was creeping towards Hermione, her small tail wagging slowly, intent on sniffing the hem of her robes before I could notice and drag her away. Silence fell on us.

“Er, hello,” Hermione said at last, extending her hand to Callidus. Belatedly, I realised I should have introduced them and wanted to kick myself. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

Callidus hesitantly took her offered hand. “Callidus Riddle.” Surprise looked ready to blossom on Hermione’s face, but she immediately thought better of it and kept her expression under control. I could have kissed her for her consideration towards him.

“You’re that genius kid, aren’t you?” she asked in genuine interest, smiling at him. “Really smart and everything? Jonathan’s said plenty about you!” I realised she had probably heard most of the rumours about him, considering where she worked and all, and hoped this meeting would do some good. If anyone could dispel rumours, it was Hermione.

“Hermione’s Jonathan’s aunt,” I explained, seeing Callidus’ puzzled reaction. “Come on in, you’ve no reason to be just standing out there. Yes, you too,” I sighed to Brandy, who’d been giving me a hopeful look. “Don’t try and get attention, please?” She grinned at me, trotting passed. Naturally, she was going to go all out for attention.

“I thought you were at Hogsmeade with Jasmine and the others,” I remarked, pulling out chairs for them and sitting myself on my desk so I could watch them. “Did something happen?” With the entire student population there, things sometimes got out of hand. Anyway, most of them usually started coming up about now, if what Severus had told me was true. By nightfall, everything would be back to normal. Thank God.

Callidus shook his head. “No, I just got tired of it, that’s all.” Hermione gave me a is-he-serious? look, and I shrugged. Callidus wasn’t like most kids, after all. “I came back here and went up to the Owlery, both to stay out of the way and because I wanted to see Hedwig.” He raised his eyes quickly, his face clearly expecting me to be angry or offended. I wasn’t. “I found Brandy there and we were going to wander into the gardens, when someone asked me to find you. Brandy started ushering me to your office and that’s when you found me.”

“Someone wants me?” I frowned, then, too late, remembering I’d left the Parent-Teacher meeting and cursed inwardly. I really did get side-tracked too easily. Glancing at Hermione, I gave her an apologetic look and she rolled her eyes.

“Go, Harry. We’ll be fine.” When I still hesitated, she yelled, “Go!” I went.

Callidus had said he’d met the person in the gardens, so I assumed they were still there. Once I got out there, I realised I wasn’t going to have such a hard time finding them; the gardens were deserted. All I had to do was wander around and eventually find them. Up ahead I spotted someone leaning against one of the trees, their back to me, and hurried towards them. “I apologise for keeping you waiting,” I started, upon getting closer to him, for he was definitely a man, a young man actually, possibly around my own age. “It took the student a while to find me...” The man froze and slowly turned around to face me, and I froze as his face was revealed to me.

It was Draco Malfoy.

There was no mistaking him. His hair, his face, his eyes, him, it was all there and it was all his. Apart from his father, I’d never met anyone else with his colouring. Whether that was a good or bad thing, that’s up to you. I stared at him, shocked, stunned and, well, shocked some more. Of anyone I’d known before, he was the last person I’d expected to meet. And right then, as I stared at him, I realised I really, really didn’t want to have to talk to him. If I did, it meant I’d have to face up to more of my past, and more importantly, more of my old grudges. The sad fact was, my grudge against Draco couldn’t really be justified. Severus would be the first to vouch for me in that respect. “Draco,” I whispered, my voice hardly audible. I felt numb.

He smiled faintly. “Harry.” His grey eyes had darkened in the fading light, so they weren’t their usual silver colour, and they were full of amusement. I swallowed, strapping on steel to my backbone and ignoring the urge to take a step backwards. There was no point in doing that, for Draco posed no threat. I hoped. This proved I still held a grudge against him and I was still suspicious of him, though I had no reason to be. But I was learning nothing was ever simple. And really, why should anything including Draco-bloody-Malfoy be simple? It was practically breaking a rule.

I looked at him. He was almost the same. Almost. His hair was still the same, shades of silver, blond, and gold intertwining to create the hair that was strictly his and only his. Strands fell into his eyes and it was windswept in general. He’d only just arrived. I’d been the first he’d sought out. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or worried.

His face was still as pale as it had always been, his features still classically-carved; delicate, but masculine. A proud, defiant spark glittered in his eyes and flickered across his face. Still full of pride, despite everything that had happened, despite everything that had been tossed at him. The Malfoy part in him that wouldn’t die, though it had been extremely battered. But now there was something that hadn’t always been there, that showed time had passed and things had changed. That he’d changed. As I looked at him, my gaze flicked to it, like others had glanced at my forehead.

His scar.

It wasn’t like mine. It wasn’t a curse scar. It stretched from his left temple down to his jaw-line, slightly jagged in places but as healed as it ever would be. Voldemort’s gift to him, when he’d tried to kill Draco. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done what he’d wanted it to. The scar had been meant to control Draco, make him an unwilling minion to Voldemort. But it hadn’t. If Draco had anything, it was a will of steel. And receiving a scar almost entirely down one side of his face had only succeeded in driving Draco further away for Voldemort, even further than he’d already been.

It was extremely ironic that, after years of annoying me, constantly picking away at me, harassing me, tormenting me, provoking me, Draco was practically as well known as me. And he had his own scar now. In some ways, we were so alike it was frightening. In others, we were as different as night and day, no matter what had happened to us during the war.

I had to say something. I had to. But I couldn’t think. My mind was still screeching, What the HELL is HE doing here?! so I simply said the first thing that came into my head... which, admittedly, wasn’t an extremely intelligent thing to say, but under the circumstances...

“How are you?”

How are you. The absolutely last thing anyone said to someone who’d been in a war. As I should well have known, considering the amount of people who’d said it to me. The moment the words left my lips, I wanted to take them back, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at Draco in dismay, hoping he wouldn’t take them in offence.

No such luck.

“How am I?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at me in disbelief. “Well... all things considered, I suppose I could be fine. Simply ignoring the fact that I’ve been through hell in the war -- same as you, no doubt. Hmmm... I was almost taken over by one of the most feared wizards in modern history, and nearly lost my mind thanks to hearing his voice in my head, which wasn’t exactly the most thrilling thing of my life, might I add. My father is, thankfully, dead, considering he was a very real lunatic, and it’s going to take me years to clear the family name and for people to stop looking at me like I’m a dangerous criminal. Oh, yes, life is wonderful.” Draco looked ready to throttle me. Frankly, I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to throttle myself too.

“That was a very stupid question,” I said quietly, meeting his furious eyes reluctantly. “I’m sorry.” I was genuinely sorry, wishing I could take my words back, but knowing I’d have to deal with the consequences of my careless actions anyway. And I could. I was the brave, heroic Gryffindor, wasn’t I? I felt like shit.

He pressed his lips together tightly. “Of course you’re sorry. You’re always sorry.” It was so close to what Severus had thrown at me before that I froze, my heart in my throat and my eyes wide. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Had I made so many mistakes with my judgements? How had I made so many mistakes? Yet again, I had managed to judge Draco completely wrong... and I was only realising it now. And, even worse, I had absolutely no idea how I’d managed to make those judgements. This was actually quite disturbing, not to mention alarming.

Draco Malfoy had fought on our side in the war. He’d come face-to-face with Voldemort and had survived. He’d been punished for desertion by Voldemort and then punished for the crimes of his father and predecessors by the Ministry. He’d taken all the punishments without a scream, as he’d been taught to do, and had paid for everything he’d ever done to people before. He’d proven that he was no double-crosser and that he wasn’t a spy for anyone... but I still hadn’t completely trusted him, all the same. That I was an idiot was quite an understatement, though it was only now that I was beginning to fully realise exactly how much of an idiot I was.

Why had I never trusted him, despite the many reasons and proof that I should have? I had been able to, of that I was certain. I didn’t know. Possible reasons constantly filtered at the edge of my mind, offering me solace from my guilt. But the freedom never lasted long, and the guilt always returned. In the end, the one reason that made some degree of sense was that I’d already been betrayed by Severus, at the time. My tolerance for Slytherins had reached an all time low. In short, I’d been too afraid to trust anyone else, except for those few people my trust had already been confirmed on.

No matter how much sense this might have made, there was still the fact it seemed ridiculous. Not like me. But by then, I hadn’t exactly been myself. I suppose I’d been allowed to temporarily not be myself, circumstances considered. Of course, that didn’t mean my actions had been right, nor did it make the guilt any less.

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Of course. It’s me, after all.” The bitterness was evident in my voice, and I knew Draco was regarding me with narrowed eyes. I spread my arms out at my sides, an expression of helplessness. “What do you want me to say? Anything I will say, I guarantee you’ll just ridicule it.” I spoke the truth. I knew it and so did Draco.

“I don’t know what I want you to say, either,” Draco sighed, looking weary and old all at once. Older than he was. “Anything you could say, it would be meaningless. And pointless. Neither of us would mean it, for neither of us are sure what we expect from the other.”

His words were true. I hated them, for they were true.

I said the first thing I could coherently think of. “I feel guilty. And sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you, for you don’t give a damn.”

He nodded. “Naturally.”

Deep breath. Breathe in deeply and slowly, counting to ten. Keep calm. Don’t let the grief swamp you, for he doesn’t deserve it. The orders from my brain drilled into me like sharp knives, twisting until I did as I was told. The subconscious was a wonderful thing, despite the nightmares it gave me. I opened my eyes, unaware I’d closed them. “In the end, I know you’re right. I may hate it, but I deserve your anger.”

He nodded. “You do. I admit, I’m surprised you admitted it so readily.” His eyes were burning like molten silver now, piercing and almost painful to look at. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, remembering the numerous times I’d seen him look like this. It seemed I was the only one who could manage to make him react like this. Usually, this expression meant we were treading very thin ice, and it was going to break at any moment. I was, unsurprisingly, wary.

“I’ve had a long time to think about it.” I shrugged, and found I had no more to say.

Silence descended upon us, a silence that was neither comfortable, nor tense. But it unnerved me, for some reason I couldn’t understand.

“Why did you never trust me?” he asked out of the blue, watching me intently. The outer rims of his eyes had darkened to the colour of a storm-cloud. I felt like I was in the eye of the storm, seconds before chaos once more crashed around me. Dangerous territory. Dangerous, but exhilarating at the same time.

I took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you, for secrets surround the reason why. Not secrets about you,” I hurriedly added, seeing Draco’s suspicion. “Personal secrets that are for me to know alone. But I’ve realised how very, very wrong I was to never trust you, and to hold grudges against you. Whether you want to hear it or not, I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

Draco looked at me, emotionless, silent. Seconds crawled by, and still he didn’t react in any way. I was beginning to feel nervous. Extremely nervous, but I held my ground nonetheless. Now was not the time to go with the instinct to run. Not with Draco like this. Whether we were on the same side or not, he was still dangerous. Some things never changed, I suppose.

Then he nodded. If I’d blinked I would have missed it, but I saw it. It was the nearest I would get to an acceptance of my apology, at least right now. We would talk about this again, sometime, but not right now. Draco was right. Right now, neither of us were sure what we expected from the other. It was dangerous territory.

I looked at him closely, and for a moment the years seemed to melt away. We were both fifteen again, and he was different and yet the same. The hardness of his eyes hadn’t stayed for good yet, and they still held a spark of arrogant superiority that showed he had a long way to grow up yet. He still hated me, but yet didn’t. Silent rage didn’t exclude from him in vicious waves, like it did now. Back then, we’d still been kids. But we weren’t now.

He had been the first crush that had unnerved me. I hadn’t expected to feel anything for him other than disgust and annoyance, not least any feelings of attraction. Being stuck with an oncoming war hadn’t helped any ways for me to try and act normal. Getting a crush on Draco definitely hadn’t helped, since he had yet to show which side he’d been on. Perhaps that was another reason for never fully trusting him. Hard to trust a guy you once felt attracted to, particularly if you don’t know whether he wants to help you or kill you.

I looked into his eyes and went beyond the blankness. His own mask, like my own. Different, but with the same purpose. Keep people away, let them think they can’t hurt you and they won’t. It worked for the first few years, but eventually it stopped working. We couldn’t neatly step out of the rush of life because we weren’t able to. We couldn’t expect life to stop for us, simply because we wanted it to and we wanted extra time to feel right. The only way to feel right again was by living life. Staying away from it only plunged us further into the darkness. Only by living again, would our scars heal to as far as they could. The only way to help some of the pain go was by showing that it couldn’t drag us down.

I looked at him and saw the pain he constantly felt. The pain, the anger, the rage. The rage that others could act normal, like the war had never happened, while he was still struggling to get away from the agony and the memories. The nightmares. And I saw the knowledge in his eyes. That he’d known what I’d felt for him in that brief time during Fifth Year, before I’d started my Animagus training with Severus. That he knew and remembered. And he knew why that had happened even less than I did. As I realised this, a chill started in my chest and spread outwards. I’d never realised he’d known what I’d felt for him. I’d thought I’d kept it remarkably under control. It looked like I hadn’t. A sudden thought hit me and I froze. Draco... Draco wasn’t going to use my old attraction against me, was he? For it meant nothing to me now. I’d been fifteen; getting numerous crushes had been expected of me. That was all it been; a meaningless crush.

It had been my short crush on him that had made falling for Severus that little bit easier to understand, to accept. Or that was what I told myself, to be honest. I didn’t know why I’d fallen for him, and knew why I’d accepted it even less so. There were just some things about ourselves that we would never understand. That much I knew for definite.

Draco and I were more alike than we wanted to admit. It was an extremely frightening thought.

“I’ve heard that Dolus is friendly with Callidus Riddle,” Draco said abruptly. He blinked, his eyes rapidly losing their feverish silvery colour. The sudden way he changed subject was almost as disturbing as the way his eyes changed. Through the years I’d learned that Draco’s eyes had a vague link with his moods. The more silvery they were, the higher the emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t always reliable, but it helped.

I nodded. “Yes, he’s friends with him.” The subject of Dolus still made me uncomfortable, though that was the reason Draco had come, after all. Since his uncle, Dolus’ father, was currently going through a rather difficult court case, it seemed plausible that Draco would have come in his uncle’s stead. Plausible, but not entirely logical, considering the fact that Draco wasn’t exactly the most popular guy in his family, lately. It made me wonder exactly what the current state of the Malfoy family was. “How did you know?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking politely puzzled. “Dolus told me in his letters.” He said it as if it was blatantly obvious, though it hadn’t been to me. It appeared that kids were writing home far more regularly than when I’d been a student.

“Dolus is a good kid,” I told him quietly, feeling a headache coming on. As far as confrontations went, this was an uneasy, tiring one. “Admittedly, he has that Malfoy... attitude, but he’s got his head screwed on properly.”

“Of course he has,” Draco answered back, his voice just as quiet. His face was expressionless and showed nothing, but I couldn’t help but feel that I’d crossed some unseen line. For a brief moment, something crossed his face, too quick for me to recognise. But I couldn’t shake the fact that it was important. And I’d just missed it.

I couldn’t help but remember that Draco would have smirked at the ‘Malfoy attitude’ part, but he didn’t. Draco had changed in the war, like everyone else. Like me. His personality had changed dramatically, and it was now, when I was standing before him, that I wondered if I knew him at all. If I ever had.

Almost as if he could read my thoughts, a peculiar expression appeared on his face, an expression that unnerved me a great deal, for I couldn’t understand the meaning of it. “Callidus Riddle,” he mused, that almost-dreamy expression still there. I watched him warily, wondering what the hell was going on. Why was Draco acting like this? Madness was something often associated with the Malfoy family, but not very often put with Draco. His actions now weren’t making that look too good.

Of course he knew about Callidus. Who didn't? Callidus was practically becoming famous, but for all the wrong reasons. I frowned, trying to keep my emotions under control. “What do you know about him?” I asked cautiously.

His eyes had darkened alarmingly, but the strange look in them was still there. “Not as much as I would have liked,” he answered, his storm-cloud eyes boring into mine. I was beginning to feel very, very nervous. “Most likely not as well as you do,” he added.

“I don’t know about that,” I replied absently, remembering the past few months where I'd battled with Callidus to understand him. “Callidus is harder to know than he looks.” Or maybe I was wrong; Callidus’ air usually told people to be careful, that he wasn’t like every other eleven-year-old. More to the point, his face told people that he didn’t want them to help him. He didn’t want them to try and become close to him. And he did it the same way as Draco did, and I still did, to an extent: keep people away and they won’t hurt you.

“Unsurprisingly,” Draco said with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. My own eyes narrowed. It was obvious Draco knew more than he was letting on, but if he wouldn’t tell me, then I couldn’t force him to. He’d tell me when he wanted to, when I was ready, perhaps. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. Somehow, for some reason I couldn’t fathom, what he knew was important.

“What is it, Draco?” I asked sharply, planting my hands on my hips and giving him a suspicious look. “What do you know that you won’t tell me?”

He smirked, and for a moment looked like the old Draco I’d once known. “That is for me to know, and for you not yet to know.” He was being extremely contrary; his warning sign for me to shut up and stay out of what didn’t concern me. But it did concern me. If it was about Callidus, then it concerned me very much.

“Damn it, Draco!” I snapped, my temper getting the better of me. Even now, when we were adults, he still knew exactly how to push my buttons the right way. It sounded a bit childish, but it was true.

He merely gave me a condescending look, clearly unimpressed with my short fuse. “You said yourself that you couldn’t tell me why you never trusted me. And I tell you that I can’t tell you what I know, not yet, at least.”

“I trust you now,” I said, but it was a lie and he knew it.

“No,” he replied, “you don’t. Not completely. Perhaps you trust me some bit, but not enough to feel comfortable around me.” I wanted to retort angrily, but I couldn’t, for he spoke the truth. And I hated it. And I wondered how exactly he knew me so well. And why I didn’t know him at all.

I let out a deep breath, eyes falling to the ground. “Very well,” I sighed. “I accept your decision, even if I don’t agree with it. Which makes me a hypocrite, I suppose, but I really don’t care.” He smiled then, and part of it reached his eyes.

What could I do? I couldn’t think of anything proper, so I went with my head. Nodding, I turned, saying, “I have to go back inside, I’m afraid. It was... interesting to meet you again. Also, Dolus is doing extremely well in his lessons. He may be one to do Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, one day. He has the interest.” It was why Draco had come, after all.

I’d taken a few steps away, when Draco’s voice cut through the silence. “Be as much of a friend to Callidus as you can, Harry. Give him your confidence and advice, and show your faith in him. The Order is fierce and selfish; they won’t care what the consequences of their actions will be. And they want him at all costs.”

My eyes widened, as my heart start to throb. But when I whirled around, Draco was already gone. I was left staring at the trees, watching the leaves rustle in the wind, and the sky starting to darken blood-red and golden-yellow with the oncoming sunset.

But I knew I would see Draco again.

I stared blankly into the writhing flames, a mug clutched tightly in my hands. Severus would probably protest at the fire, but I didn’t care. It had been the first thing I’d done upon finally being alone once more. I’d been staring at it for an hour now, and drank about four cups of tea, but still the cold inside myself wouldn’t thaw. I shivered. Again.

Hermione and Ron were gone. Ron had left reluctantly, but Hermione had firmly but gently taken him away, sensing I’d desperately wanted to be alone. Since returning to them after my... talk with Draco (and having to deal with Ron’s wrath for leaving him in the Staff Room), she’d noticed I’d been unsettled and edgy, the way I quickly lost interest in conversing with them and staring off into space. As far as having things on my mind went, this was a killer. Realising this (Hermione had always been perceptive, after all), she’d soon made an excuse for her and Ron’s departure. The most unsettling thing was that I’d been relieved that they were leaving.

What sort of person had I turned into?

Draco’s visit had unsettled me, even more than I’d already been. My suspicions and worries had soared after our meeting. Callidus was in serious danger now. It was something I’d tried to put to the back of my mind, but it was obvious that I couldn’t. The Order was dangerous. Sincerely dangerous, but I didn’t know how much. The only real danger I could compare it to was Voldemort, and it was asking a lot to compare anything to him. I was afraid that I’d underestimated The Order, but at the same time I was hoping I’d overestimated them. Unfortunately, I had no true answer to give and I was beginning to contemplate pulling my hair out from sheer frustration.

Maybe it was time to sit Callidus down and tell him what was going on. Ignorance was not bliss, after all. Ignorance was the quickest way to die. I’d have to talk to Dumbledore though; he wouldn't be pleased if I went and did something this important without consulting him first. He was still the Headmaster and I was still only a teacher who obeyed him, even if I was Harry Potter.

Before I could think about it anymore, the door opened and Severus came in, Brandy at his heels.

He opened his mouth and I knew he was going to yell at me, saying that he’d been searching all over and why the hell hadn’t I told him I was coming back here, and realised I didn’t want to hear it, not right then. I was too worried and too stressed to worry about him, on top of everything else. So I spoke before he could. “Hermione knows.”

That stopped him, as I’d known it would. He stared at me. And stared. The minutes trickled by as he read my face, taking in the paleness, the weariness and the fear in it. Finally, he said, “You told her?” He sounded incredulous. I couldn’t blame him.

I shook my head. “No. She figured it out on her own.”

“She would,” he growled, shaking his head and looking irritated. “And? Has she disowned you as a friend yet?” I realised he had been concerned about me, judging by the snarkiness of his comment and felt guilty for not caring. It was times like these I felt I didn’t deserve companionship of any sort at all.

“No, she hasn’t. She’s a bit freaked, naturally, but she’s going to stand by me. I think she found it all amusing, on some level I couldn’t pick up,” I answered, sounding as tired as I felt. He noticed this, and concern flickered in his eyes. “We’re leaving Ron for another day.” At this, I gave him a smile, but it was weak and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make it reach my eyes. His concern went up another few notches, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked uncertainly. I shrugged, staring listlessly into the fire, feeling emotion swell up inside me. I suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to break down, which frightened me more than I wanted it to. I heard the rustle of cloth and then Severus was standing before me, blocking out the fire. I opened my mouth to ask him to move, please, but he said, “Harry, what’s wrong?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You look ready to cry. Things haven’t got to you like this in a long time. I want to know what’s wrong.” I said nothing, avoiding his gaze and unable to think of anything to say, anything that would correctly tell him how I was feeling. I didn’t know how I was feeling. He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Please!”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard Severus say please like that, almost desperately. But my memory wasn’t at its most accurate right then. I looked at him, really looked at him, and my eyes hurt. I realised that though I lived with Severus, shared his bed and shared myself with him, I still acted like I was alone and had no one to turn to. A black-haired, green-eyed Atlas, so to speak. But this Atlas’ shoulders were beginning to tremble.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to get myself under control again. “I met Draco a few hours ago,” I began. “He came because of Dolus, and I was the first he sought out. We had an... uncomfortable talk. Well, more of an argument than a talk. We accused each other of a few things, tossed in a few insults for good measure, and turned serious.” I sighed, feeling exhausted, so, so exhausted. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.

“Harry...” Severus was going to lecture me on getting along with Draco, and I didn’t want to hear it. Not now, possibly not ever.

“I wanted to be civil to him. I wanted to have a conversation with him, God forbid!” My voice was rapidly going higher, possibly because of hysteria and blocked emotions, but I didn’t care about that either. I was sick of caring because it didn’t seem to get me anywhere. “But instead it went all haywire, and he knows something about Callidus that he won’t tell me and I’m sick of everything always blowing up in my face and going wrong! I just want something to go right, for once, but it’s not. None of it. It’s all going mad and I’m being dragged in and I can’t stop it. I can’t say no, even though I want to! I don’t want to be dragged in to face another Evil. I’ve seen enough to last me a lifetime!” I finally stopped, my chest heaving. My eyes were stinging and it hit me I actually wanted to cry. But I couldn’t.

He was shocked at my outburst, obviously not having expected it at all. For that matter, I hadn’t expected it either. Dark eyes wide, he stared at me silently for a moment, while I struggled to slow down my breath. Then, before I could say anything, he grabbed me, yanked me to my feet, and wrapped his arms around me. I tensed at first, before I realised he was comforting me. Then I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent and feeling truly calm for the first time all day.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered into his shoulder, breathing hard. “I didn’t mean to explode like that. But... I’m just so sick of it all. I’m having a hard enough time trying to recover from Voldemort and now... there’s more coming. And they want Callidus. He’s too young to have to deal with this, and The Order is serious about having him. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, not like--” I stopped, but we both knew what I would have said. Not like I had to. Silence fell. Severus eased himself slowly down onto the chair I’d spent the last hour in, pulling me onto his lap, his arms still around me. I sent my mug onto the nearest smooth surface, before I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

“I think you should go to bed,” Severus said after a while, sounding quiet and serious. “You need sleep and you need to relax. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

“But I--” I began to protest.

“To hell with any correcting you have to do,” he interrupted firmly. “The students won’t die if their assignments are a day later than expected. They’ll still be on a high from today anyway, so it won’t matter.” He had his no-nonsense tone on. I knew better than to argue. Sighing, I leaned up and kissed him softly, before reluctantly going into the bedroom.

I’d expected to be unable to sleep, what with everything that had happened today, but I did. Hours later I woke to find a light still on, and Severus still awake. He’d spelled a small globe of light to burn, strong enough that he could see, but soft enough that it wouldn’t wake me. It floated gently in the air, burning cheerfully. He was sitting up, writing slowly in a small green book perched on his raised knees, looking solemn. It didn’t look like he was enjoying whatever he was writing. I watched him for a few moments, until he sensed my gaze and glanced at me. A small smile curled his lips, as he murmured, “Feeling better?”

I nodded. “Yes.” It was true; the sleep had done me good. Unfortunately, I was now feeling very embarrassed about my sudden, unprovoked outburst. I opened my mouth to apologise.

“Don’t bother,” he said, looking down at the book for a moment, scratching something quickly on it, before returning to me again. “Everyone needs to let it out once in a while. You just do it more than everyone else, and slightly more louder.” He smiled at my indignant look, before he became serious once more.

He looked like he was going to say more, but I changed the subject, not wishing to talk about it anymore. He knew I’d changed the subject deliberately, but said nothing about it. “What are you writing in?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to glance at the book. Severus was viciously protective of his privacy, even with me.

Severus froze, his shoulders tensing. I held my breath, suddenly nervous for some unknown reason. Then he let out his breath in a soft whoosh, the tension draining from his shoulders. He’d come to a decision without me even knowing it. Swallowing and licking his lips, he took several breaths before looking down at the book. He closed it, placing his quill on the bedside locker. He rain long, pale fingers down its faded cover and stared at it for a moment. His face was unreadable. Then a determined expression crossed his face and he looked at me.

“This is the Snape Family book, for lack of a proper title,” he told me quietly. “It’s been passed down countless generations, and each member... writes about their life. It’s hardly exciting stuff,” he added dryly. “People are people and their actions are always the same. The circumstances are the difference, however.”

My eyebrows were at my hairline by this point. “I’ve never heard of a family book before.”

Severus shrugged. “Only the oldest families have one, usually pure-blood ones.” Under other circumstances that might have been considered an insult against Muggle-borns, but this time it made sense. Having a family book with primarily Muggle members in the family might have caused problems. “The Malfoys have one, for instance.” I raised my eyebrows. That was hardly something I needed to know.

Severus took a deep breath, and I had an ominous feeling, despite the fact that it didn’t look like he was going to drop a bombshell. “This... this is important to me, Harry. I was -- I’ve been meaning to give you this, to read. It was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I... had to convince myself to give it to you. It’ll show you who I am, who I really am. Why I am the way I am, why I act this way, what my family was like. This is, for all accounts, me. I want you to read it, to understand who I really am.” His eyes were dark and large. “My family haven’t always done good things. I haven’t always done good things. You can never truly get the Death Eater out of someone, no matter if they wanted to serve him or not. I’ll never be able to forget that part of me. It’ll always be there. And you need you to realise if you want to spend however long with someone like me. This will tell you.”

“No,” I replied quietly, “it’ll show me. I’ll tell myself.”

He was holding out the book, looking extremely pale. If I looked closely, I could see his hands were trembling slightly. I looked down at it. This was important to him, of that I was sure. It meant a lot to him, or he wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of giving it to me. I realised I was looking down at a recorder of generations of Snapes -- Severus’ family. His ancestors. Their blood ran though his veins. They’d helped make him who he was.

Could I accept him? Death Eater and all? Severus wasn’t the easiest of men to get along with. He was moody, secretive, snarky, sarcastic. He wasn’t the best of morning people and was practically intolerable most days until he had coffee. He could be cruel as quickly as he could be kind. There were very few people he could get along with, and even then, he could be lethal to them with his words. And there was still the fact he’d once been a Death Eater, even if he’d been a spy for Dumbledore at the same time. He’d still tortured, still tormented, still killed. Could I cope with someone like that? Could I love someone like that?

I think I already was.

I wasn’t easy to get along with. I was moody, secretive, snarky and sarcastic when I wanted to be. I was a terrible morning person and like a bear before I had caffeine in my system. I could be cruel and kind, sometimes at the same time. I could be lethal to people I considered my friends. I’d never been a Death Eater, but my actions in the war equalled those Severus had done as one of Voldemort’s followers. Severus and I were more alike than either of us had realised. To not accept him was to practically not accept myself. And then I was being a hypocrite.

Only one way to find out.

My lips set in a thin line, I took the book. As I did so, I felt like I had hundreds of lives in my hands. The worst thing was... I really did.

The book looked innocent, placed on his desk. Innocent, harmless, simple. The complete opposite of what it really was. Severus stopped in his tracks, staring at it in abject horror, his arms full of parchment. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at it, unable to move, unwilling to move. But he did know that he had to move, eventually. And the suspense was killing him.

He dumped the scrolls on the desk, hardly paying attention, and not caring if some of them fell to the ground or not. His eyes and his attention were captured on the small, faded book before him. He started staring at it again. He couldn’t pick it up, but he could. He didn’t want to, but he did. In the end, it was the voice in his head yelling, Stop being a spineless coward and pick it up! that got his hand moving. He ignored the fact he’d actually heard a voice in his head.

He had no idea what he was looking for, but he opened it anyway. There was no parchment, no note that told him Harry’s answer. But somehow, some part of him knew what to look for. He turned the book to the side and stared at the family tree. Right down at the end. For a moment, he couldn’t read what was written there, but all of a sudden it came into focus and he could read it, and understand it.

Neatly written beside his own name, with a dash that symbolised marriage or lifelong commitment, was Harry James Potter. Severus stared at it numbly for a moment, before he truly realised what it meant. A broad smile appeared on his face, a smile that hadn’t appeared for a very long time.

Well. That was answer enough.

I whistled cheerfully as I walked down the corridor, cradling the object in my arms carefully. Dropping it was not an option. Brandy trotted beside me, looking happy and hyper. She seemed to pick up on my good mood.

The reporter was coming next week, and all of the staff were busy preparing. Protective spells for our chambers were being renewed and strengthened; everyone knew what reporters were like, no matter how genuine they seemed, and no one was taking any chances. Especially not me.

Severus was reading a book at his desk when I entered, deeply absorbed. He looked up as I came in, calmness being replaced by disbelief, and then the disbelief changing to shock as he saw what was in my hands. “What in the world...” he began, slamming the book shut and standing up, going around the desk to stand before me.

I let him bend close to it, examining it. The mixture of shock and fascination on his face was amusing as hell. “It’s a crystal lily,” I explained. “It depicts the mood you’re in by the colour. It was--”

“Your mother’s,” he muttered, still looking at it.

I blinked and stared at him. It took me a few seconds, but I managed to squawk out, “And how, pray tell, did you know?!”

“I went to school with your mother,” he told me, as if it explained everything. I gave him a look that said plainly it didn’t. He let out a long-suffering sigh and elaborated. “I may have despised your father and extremely-irritating godfather, but I got on reasonably well with your mother, who never took part in anything they did to me. Indeed, she strongly disapproved, but didn’t say anything as she knew I gave back as good as I got. Your mother and I regularly studied together and tutored each other in the subjects we were weak at. We got to know each other reasonably well, all things considered, since your father tended to get a fit of the green-eyed monster when we were in the library.” Severus rolled his eyes, giving me his opinion of my father’s jealousy. I merely waited for him to continue.

“Harry, your mother was a Seer. She regularly had visions.”

Of anything he might have said, this certainly wasn’t anything I’d expected. I balked at him, before howling, “WHAT?!” No one had ever told me something like this before. When I got my hands on Sirius and Lupin...

Severus looked unhappy. He’d distinctly winced at my eruption. “Your mother had visions,” he repeated, not looking like he was enjoying this at all. “This was why she had this lily created. By her moods, she was usually given enough warning for any visions she was going to have.

I very carefully placed the lily down on the table. When I was sure it wasn’t going to fly off or anything, I literally collapsed into the nearest chair and stared at my hands. “God.” Under the circumstances, I really should have gone more explicit, but I hadn’t the energy, although I had more than enough reason. It all made sense now. Why Lupin hadn’t given me this until my twenties. He'd been under my mother’s instructions, for she’d probably had a vision concerning it. Then something hit me, something I immediately wished hadn’t entered my mind.

“Did my mother know Voldemort would come? Did she know she and my father would die?”

My mother was a Seer.

Severus went deathly pale, opened his mouth and closed it again. That in itself was more than an answer. I buried my face in my hands, chest heaving, but I didn’t cry. Perhaps I should have, but I felt drained. Exhausted. Besides, I was having a hard enough time coming to terms with this. Crying wouldn’t help.

My mother was a Seer.

“Harry...” Severus touched my shoulder, obviously unsure of what to do.

“Don’t touch me!” I snarled, before I could help it, and he jerked away like he’d been burned. I could sense his hurt, his bewilderment and sorrow, and immediately felt guilty, though part of me insisted I didn’t have to be. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, my voice muffled because my face was still in my hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just... I don’t know how to react to this.”

“No,” he replied, and his voice was heartbreakingly said, “you have every right to be angry. We should have told you... but there didn’t seem to be any reason to. But...” He trailed off, apparently deciding this wasn’t a good time for any more bombshells. He was right.

I took several deep breaths, getting myself under control. After a few moments, I felt calm enough to stand up. “I’m going to go for a walk,” I said, and felt quite pleased that my voice was steady, considering it was the last way I felt. “I need to be on my own for a while, to sort this out.”

Severus nodded, still looking painfully sad. Guilt churned in my stomach, and on impulse, I walked up to him. He flinched, expecting a blow, but instead I wrapped my arms around him, leaning my head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, closing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to... explode like that. It was just... I wasn’t prepared. I’m not angry with you, not really. I’m annoyed, but that’s all. I just need to deal with this on my own, okay?”

He nodded, and I leaned up to kiss him quickly, a mere brush of lips. I sighed heavily, before turning and leaving the room. I left a fragile Severus behind, along with a confused, frightened Brandy.

My mother was a Seer.

My mother had known she would die. She’d known her husband would die. And there had been nothing substantial she could do about it, for the future was excruciatingly difficult to change. She’d known that she would die, and couldn’t change it. I couldn’t imagine how she had felt.

I was running through the corridors now, desperately trying to get to the doors, heedless to any students or teachers and whether they were in my way or not. The words tumbled round and round in my head: My mother was a Seer. My mother was a Seer. My mother was a Seer. It was all I could think.

Had she known about Callidus? Had she known how the war would end? Had she known I would turn out like this? Had she known I would fall for Severus? ‘Had she?’ questions tumbled around in my head, colliding and crashing again and again. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t even try. All I wanted to do was find some kind of peace, but there was none. And this time, Severus couldn’t help me.

I wanted so many answers to all the questions in my head.

I didn’t know how to get them.

I didn’t know who to turn to.

Author’s Note: I’m cruel, aren’t I? :) Yes, there will (hopefully) be some answers. I’m working on it. Well. This part went on a bit longer than I’d intended, but that’s good, right? Draco will be back. And Harry will have many questions to toss at many people. Hope you enjoyed this part!