March that year was cool, but towards the end of the month Spring decided to show her face and let us know she was approaching. The sunlight was weak, but determined, and many people became noticeably more cheerful and optimistic. Winter had lost its terrifying, icy grip on us at last.

March was when I finally got some sense knocked into me.

About time.

My Seventh Years, it appeared, finally realised that the N.E.W.T.s were dangerously close, and panicked. For the first time all year, I was given the quality of work from them that I’d expected since September. Better late than never, I suppose.

I couldn’t bring myself to talk to Severus about anything that was bothering me — the nightmares, my fears, Callidus, Veronique — and that worried me. I was beginning to grow suspicious that there was a lot more wrong with me than mood swings, indecisiveness, and an inability to let go of the past. The signs were there — the continuous bitterness, cynicism, negativity, occasional breakdowns — but I wasn’t absolutely certain, and part of me didn’t want to believe that it was really happening to me, indestructible Harry Potter. That it had been happening to me for years, without me really knowing it. And I still had to find a way to tell Severus.

From what I could tell, he knew something had changed and was being as patient as he could. For the first time, I could see how he’d had to put up with me all year, and couldn’t believe it, really. I was only beginning to realise it, but all year I’d had the idea of trying to get him back and keeping him at arm’s length at the same time. For his own safety. Or so I’d believed. Maybe it had all been for my own safety, and I just hadn’t recognised it.

And at the first sign of upset, I panicked and bolted. Oh, very mature.

I was beginning to see that I needed help. I couldn’t let go of the past. It wouldn’t let go of me. While everyone else — Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Severus — had been able to get on with their lives, I hadn’t. I didn’t know why and it had always been in the back of my mind, festering, but now I’d brought it to the fore and forced myself to look at it. Something I should have done months before.

Severus wasn’t enough. He’d tried, God he’d tried, but all his love and support hadn’t been enough. I had to seek help. That was another milestone, for another day. Facing up to the fact that I had a problem was achievement enough for one day, thanks.

I’d been happily ignoring everything that had happened since the war four years before (four years?). I’d hidden behind carefully built walls that insulated me from everything. I’d never faced up to what the war had done to me. What Voldemort had awoken in me. Losing people I’d considered to be family, knowing they were innocent and shouldn’t have died. They’d all died, anyway, so I’d told myself it didn’t matter. But it had. Of course it had.

Behind my little walls, I’d hidden from everyone. Myself included. I never let loose my anger for Voldemort. I never hated the Death Eaters for what they’d done. I never grieved for the family and friends I’d lost. Instead, I locked it all away inside me, where I thought I could ignore it. But it consumed me, until I was barely able to contain it, and inside I’d always been crumbling, the threads of self-control gradually fraying and breaking until I had to let it all out.

Death followed me during the war, and despair followed me after it. A year after the war, I began Auror training. It lasted almost a year, when I was nearly twenty-one. It was not the career for me, that soon became obvious. While I may have killed in the war for vengeance, and even more because they deserved to die, the ability to kill had not come easy to me. Killing had left scars, scars that would never heal. I accepted that; I didn’t mourn those I’d killed, though I did regret the act. Killing was not meant to be easy. If it ever did become easy and natural... that was the time to start worrying.

When I left the Auror training, I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know what to do. It seemed my purpose had been fulfilled. Ever since I’d become part of the Wizarding world, Voldemort had been a constant threat that always loomed ominously in the background. All through my time at Hogwarts, I’d had one thing on my mind: defeating Voldemort. It had been my one intent, and I’d always worked towards it. Learning, attempting, practising. Practise makes perfect, after all. And I needed to be perfect. It was either that, or die.

Quirrell had been the beginning, to show me that Voldemort was willing to risk anything to achieve his goal. His diary had proven that he would never truly leave. The Triwizard Tournament drove home how far he could go to break through every barrier that stood in his way. Cedric’s death had spurred me to go farther and try harder. It had shown me that Voldemort had to be stopped, no matter what.

The growing unease of Fifth Year — the betrayal of Fudge and his subsequent death, the division of the Ministry, the Muggle attacks, the growing darkness — and the crumbling of Wizarding society, as fear and panic swept through the country once more. Sixth year had been a disaster, with me learning every curse and survival tactic I could find. The upcoming N.E.W.T.s? A vague dream. How could they be important, when I didn’t know if I’d still be alive to take them?

Then, in Seventh Year, in the middle of the N.E.W.T.s, Voldemort struck.

I soon realised that no matter how much preparation I had done for the war, it was, in reality, worth nothing. Useless. From what Dumbledore had told me, battle plans regularly went to pieces in the actual war. That was true. Whatever battle plan had been created for our side (one that I definitely hadn’t known about), it had certainly gone to pieces. Careful battle plans got in the way of surviving, so it was discarded. I felt no remorse, since I’d only intended to stay alive, anyway. To hell with battle plans.

The war lasted two years. At the beginning I’d been incredibly naive, believing somehow that I would get out of it unscathed. Foolish, I admit, but there had been a small part of me that had still been innocent, to a degree. It hadn’t stayed innocent for long, as the war had descended into chaos and hell. Dragging us all down with it.

During those two years, I did things I now regret. Things I wish I’d never done, but couldn’t take back. Many of those things had made me the person I now am, for better or worse. That couldn’t be taken back. But it could be changed.

By the end of those two years, I knew I’d been changed. But I didn’t know how much. And I managed to convince myself that I was fine, that I knew what I was doing, that I could handle it. So I ignored it, dismissed it from my mind, told myself that everything was okay. But it wasn’t. The Auror training had shown that beyond a doubt: I couldn’t stomach killing anymore. And an Auror had to kill, if the situation was desperate. If the Auror was the one that would die. And I couldn’t kill anymore. It had been more than enough of a reason to leave.

With no role to play in rebuilding Wizard society, with no idea who I was anymore or where I could go, alone and feeling distanced from everyone around me, I did the only thing I could think of.

I fled.

With my heart aching for all those I’d lost, and thinking I would never heal, I ran.

I went to the Muggle world. It was easy... change some Wizard money to Muggle, enough to keep me going until I could find a job, and then slip away. No one paid all that much attention to me, anyway; now that Voldemort was well and truly dead, I was old news. No need to keep tabs on me, even though my life was falling apart. Sirius and Remus were busy helping Dumbledore to get things back to normal. I didn’t want to bother them.

In time, I found a house to live in and a job in a nearby bookshop. Not the lap of luxury, but it was enough. I thought about things a lot. Remembered. Reminisced. Hated. I only ever made one Muggle friend, who thankfully took no notice that I had old robes and spellbooks in my trunk, and kept a snow-white owl. I never broke my wand — a sign that I never truly left, I suppose.

It was never enough. Even the foundations of my new life had been built from wizards and witches — the house had been bought with a large chunk of money from the Ministry, given to me because of my role in the war. Paid because I’d helped destroy Voldemort. How degrading. They’d insisted and I’d been unable to refuse — I had to let them think they could do something right. But it was ironic. Thousands of terrified, starving, homeless people, and they gave money to someone like me. Pathetic, very pathetic. And even more pathetic of me to accept it. Still, they’d been leaderless, torn apart, very lost, and very scared. Couldn’t really blame them for returning to gut instincts. Thank God the Ministry took back some respectability when Arthur Weasley took over.

For a year I was on my own in the Muggle world, with only limited contact with all those I’d known before. The only exception had been at Christmas, when Sirius and Lupin had insisted I spend it with them. Other than that, it had only been owls to Ron and Hermione every few months. And I’d almost been happy. But being away from the Wizarding world didn’t stop me from forgetting it. It stayed in my memories and nightmares. I couldn’t forget, no matter how much time passed. And I could never understand why.

Dumbledore’s offer had arrived out of the blue. I hadn’t been prepared for it at all. My acceptance had probably been too hasty, now that I thought about it. I had taken it more out of a sense of duty than anything else. I hadn’t actually wanted to teach, not really. But who else could teach these kids what they needed to know, so they could stay alive? In all honesty? If I could teach them enough that they would one day send their own children to Hogwarts — and be alive to see them there — then I could live with the discomfort and pain coming back had awoken. Saving their lives was worth it.

Returning to Hogwarts had unintentionally forced me to face up to things I probably would never have admitted were real. It had shown me that things I’d believed to be true were, in fact, not. And now I knew that there had been a reason I’d never been able to leave the war in the past, why it was still all there in my mind. Why I couldn’t move on. I needed help to escape the darkness that haunted me inside, the darkness that filled me with guilt, horror and shame. The darkness that tried to show me life wasn’t worth living. If I didn’t find some sort of help, the depression would eat me alive... and ending it all would probably be the only option I could find to escape it.

Severus wasn’t all the help I needed, though he’d tried to be. I knew that now. I had to find the courage to admit to someone other than myself that I had a problem.

But I couldn’t do it alone.

In the second week of March, the weather was finally pleasant enough that I could brave wearing a lighter robe. It had reached that awkward stage where my winter robes were too hot, but my summer ones were still too cold, so I made up for it by putting on a T-shirt under my lighter robes. It was certainly better than roasting alive under heavy wool. Brandy was now midway through her moulting, and was quite happy to leave tufts of fur everywhere. I didn't know whether to be patient, or belt her with the nearest book I could find and demand she clean it up herself.

Or I could dump her on Severus for the remainder of her moulting time. Now that was a plan.

Things between Dumbledore and I improved slowly (over about ten pots of tea and countless packets of biscuits), mostly due to the insistence of Severus. Veronique was a constant, unwanted shadow in the school, but she didn’t come near Severus or me again, much to our relief and suspicion. We couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing while she avoided us. As far as I knew she’d asked Dumbledore for extra time to finish her articles. I’d thought she was only writing one, but she’d apparently changed her mind.

I was expecting it to be a typical month: working, correcting, yelling, pleading (for the students), and having to sneak around every few nights (for Severus). I honestly didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, apart from knowing I’d have to buy Brandy a huge chocolate egg for Easter. She’d proved to have an abysmally large chocolate addiction, one almost as bad as my own. Once she realised the kids would have Easter eggs, there’d be no appeasing her until she had her own. I had the embarrassing feeling Severus thought the same of me.

It happened at midday. I was in my office, the correcting forgotten, with Brandy on my desk. Holding her down was quite a challenge, considering the fact she spent every moment whining, squirming and growling, blatantly telling me she didn’t like this one bit. I ignored her, instead grumbling over the dismal appearance of her coat. While the moulting was almost done, she had also used every means possible to get the shedding fur off. Which meant that she, well... stank. Stank something rotten. There was only one thing for it, I soon realised.

“I’m going to have to wash you,” I sighed. This went down about as well as I thought it would.

Brandy gave me a horrified look, before she attempted to bolt. I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and kept my grip.

“No running,” I told her flatly, giving her a glare as impressive as the one she was giving me. “Besides, it’s not for a few days yet.” Her tail relaxed slightly, but not much. She was clearly suspicious. Smart dog.

I reluctantly let her go at last, and she shot away from me, crouching in a corner where she sulked. I ignored her, instead turning to the large pile of essays I’d neglected while trying to figure out how bad her situation was. I was sorting through them and searching for my briefcase to put the ones already corrected into it, when Severus burst in. Brandy sprang to her paws, while I stopped, blinked at him, and waited.

He got to the point immediately. “We’re going away,” he said flatly, crossing his arms and giving me a look that dared me to say anything. I stared at him for a moment, still blinking slowly. Then I wisely put the essays down before I dropped them. No telling what could happen if they managed to fly out the window.

“You’re not serious, are you?” I asked at last, after managing to find my voice. The thought of leaving in the middle of the school year was wonderful, but impossible. Severus and I taught all seven Years; it wasn’t just a case of dumping all our classes on some unfortunate soul. It wasn’t fair. But it was tempting. Sadistic, me? Sometimes.

He gave me a look and I immediately knew he was serious. Deadly serious. I didn’t know whether to laugh, or just drop to the floor with astonishment. Did he honestly think we could just leave for however long we wanted to? Did he think Dumbledore would just let us do that? Apparently so.

I gaped. “You are serious!”

“Of course I am. Pack for a week.” Severus leaned down to scratch Brandy behind her ears, and wrinkled his nose. I hid a grin. But other than that, he looked calm and unruffled, like he just hadn’t told me we were both leaving for a week in the middle of the school year. He was being awfully calm about this...

Finally, my head decided enough was enough and I heard myself yell out, “Hold it! Just... stop!” Brandy and Severus both turned to look at me. I flushed under their combined scrutiny, but recovered quickly. “Severus, Dumbledore will never let us go for a week! Who’d take over for us?”

“He will, and he did. He’ll also get someone to take over for us,” Severus replied. Either he was genuinely unconcerned about the whole thing, or he was doing a really good job at acting like he was. I believed the latter, personally. Severus was dangerously protective of his beloved Potions dungeon.

“Who? Binns?” I demanded, inwardly balking at the thought of the ghost taking over my classes for a week. He was a genuinely nice ghost, but his strength lay in... history. Even if the majority of his classes were used as nap-time by most students.

Severus grimaced. “No, thank God. I think he means to bring in Sirius and Lupin while we’re gone.” Ah. That was better, considering the werewolf definitely knew how to correctly teach a class. Severus still looked sick at the thought of Binns going near his darling potions, despite the fact the ghost couldn’t actually touch them. But Sirius?

“Sirius?” I ventured cautiously, realising that he’d definitely be filling in for me; Severus would never leave him near his classroom.

Severus ground his teeth. “Yes. Though he knew better than to suggest filling in for me.” I hid a grin.

“Lupin knows how to teach Potions?” I asked suddenly, interested. Potions was one subject I didn’t know if Lupin had been successful at. Sirius’ marks were obvious, as he and my father had been two of the brightest students in the school. Incredibly bright, but highly irresponsible. I secretly thought it must have killed Severus that his two worst enemies had breezed through school with hardly any effort.

Severus shrugged. “Good enough that he might just get some information into their heads,” he muttered. I was willing to bet everything I had that if Lupin gave them a test, they’d all score extraordinarily high. He had that effect on people. But I prudently didn’t say anything. “I used to tutor him in Potions,” he added thoughtfully, “before...” He trailed off, his expression turning hard.

I didn’t say anything. ‘Before’ meant ‘Before Lupin had accidentally almost killed him’. It was a subject I was vehemently neutral on, and Severus was smart enough not to push me for an opinion on it. Sensing the growing awkwardness, he abruptly said, “Enough talking. I’d advise you to start packing. We leave within three days.” I immediately remembered what was happening again, but before I could say anything, Severus turned and swept out in a swish of billowing dark robes.

Brandy and I were left staring at the spot where he’d been standing. Silence reigned for several moments before I finally broke it. “He was joking... wasn’t he?” I asked in a small voice, still unable to believe this was happening. I was amazed and incredibly touched... but still overwhelmed.

Brandy gave me a look that plainly said I needed to get my head out of the clouds. Fast.

Lupin gave me a crooked smile, his eyes amused and worried at the same time. “You know, at this point why don’t I just take over completely for you?” he asked lightly, his eyes twinkling. His good humour was infectious and I found myself grinning in reply.

“While it might be fine for you,” I informed him, “it would be less advisable for me, seeing as I’d be out of a job!” I’d missed him since he’d been here last, and I regretted not spending Christmas with him and Sirius. But Christmas had also brought Severus and me together again, and because of that I couldn’t be too regretful.

There was still the fact Sirius and Lupin didn’t know about our relationship, and until they did, holidays like Christmas were going to be awkward. While this kept popping up in my mind repeatedly, I wasn’t sure what to do, and I was still working up to asking Severus about it. While I knew he was willing to get along with Sirius — to a certain extent — I wasn’t at all sure about my godfather.

He would accept my being gay, I hoped — I expected that it would shock him, at first, but I was fairly confident in his ability to accept it. But being in a relationship with Severus... my confidence in his being able to accept that was practically nil. Sirius didn’t exactly hate him, it was just... he had very little respect for him, and wasn’t entirely willing to put aside past grudges. In short, I was terrified that this would be seriously mucked up, and that fear made me more than willing to put it off for as long as I could.

“I’ll only be gone for a few days,” I told Remus, anxious to assure him that this wouldn’t be a regular occurrence. “I’ve left lesson plans and—”

“Harry,” Lupin interrupted gently, “it’s fine. I know what to do, and you shouldn’t be guilty over taking time off. In fact,” he added, giving me a critical once-over, “you look like you need it.” I fought the urge to look sheepish and uncomfortable, aware that my face was extremely pale and there were dark smudges under my eyes. Severus had been insisting I drink the potions he made for me, but we were still waiting for them to kick in. It was a mixture of exhaustion, stress, and simple weariness. It had struck me suddenly, but I was enduring it as well as could be expected. I was not a good patient.

It took me a moment to realise Lupin was speaking again. “Sorry, what did you say?” I asked, flustered.

He looked at me directly, his expression full of blatant worry. “Harry,” he said, after a moment’s silence, “is there anything you want to tell me?” He was slow and hesitant to ask, but there was determination in his eyes, a determination I recognised all too well.

I’m cracking up. Depression is eating me alive. I’m in love with Severus, but there are days I hate him and I don’t know why. Dumbledore is confusing the hell out of me. Callidus views me as a mentor and that terrifies me. I’m afraid something will happen that will have him end up like me, which is the last thing I want. I despise Veronique, but she frightens me at the same time, and there are times I want to kill her, which leaves me in near hysterics. I can’t kill. I can’t kill. I’ve been neglecting my own dog terribly, and my life is in tatters.

“No,” I said after a moment’s consideration. “No, there’s nothing I want to tell you.” I couldn’t load off on him, at least not yet. Not until I could make sense of it myself. Of course, it never occurred to me that talking to him could help me make sense of it all. Stupid of me, but there was still a small part of me unwilling to let Lupin and Sirius to see how far I’d fallen. Severus was one thing. They were another.

He gave me a sad, sharp look, and for a moment it hit me that Lupin probably had a very good idea of what was happening. The thought of lying to him was suddenly far worse than not saying anything to him. But pride and embarrassment prevented me from apologising. He said nothing.

“I better go if I want to make good time,” I muttered at last, wanting to break the heavy silence that had descended upon us. “Thanks again for coming at such short notice.” My words were awkward, as was my handshake.

Severus and I were going together to Hogsmeade, but Dumbledore had explained I had urgent business, while Severus had a conference to attend. People would be less suspicious and less likely to think we were going anywhere together. Secrecy and all that, though I was beginning to wonder if the staff knew anyway. It seemed so.

“It’s no trouble,” he answered with a faint smile. “Have a good time, Harry.” I smiled at him, a genuine smile this time, before turning to start walking towards the front entrance. Just before I was out of earshot, his voice drifted after me.

“I hope you and Severus enjoy yourselves.”

I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening. What...? I whirled around, but he was already heading in the opposite direction, apparently oblivious to my astonishment. Apparently. I stared after him, my jaw slack, hardly able to believe what I’d just heard. But he had said it, and I most certainly wasn’t going deaf.

I’d never told him Severus was coming with me.

The car moved smoothly down the road, practically purring. Through the windows, I could see trees and bushes on either side of the road in various shades of vibrant green. The weather was surprisingly mild for March, but a breeze reminded us that it was still only Spring. Altogether, it was a lovely day.

I glanced over at Severus who was dozing beside me, a freshly-washed Brandy asleep in his lap. As if she could feel my gaze on her, the Crup opened her eyes, wagged her tail briefly, and closed them again, content to stay where she was. I shook my head, going back to looking out the window, realising this was where Severus had grown up. It was a bit strange, though it fascinated me at the same time.

The driver glanced back at me in the rear-view mirror and gave me a friendly nod, which I returned with a slight smile. He obviously knew Severus, since he’d greeted him when we’d gotten into the car. Surprisingly, Severus hadn’t been narky or sarcastic at all. He was practically... courteous. I knew it wasn’t good to be astonished at that, but I was. I could count a handful of people he was polite to. Ever. There was still a lot I didn’t know about him, I suppose. I’d only started to get to know him when I’d been fifteen. Add to that a three year break and I hadn’t spent a whole lot of time learning about him. It made me determined to change things.

I blinked as the car slowed to a stop, and found myself staring up at a pair of large, black, iron-wrought gates that towered over us, with walls on either side. I stared at it, my eyes landing on the engraved crest in a dark plate on the centre of each gate. The Snape crest. There was no point wondering where we were — it was as blatant as the nose on Severus’s face. Leaning over, I poked Severus in the arm and murmured, “We’re here.”

He cracked open one eye, regarded me for a moment, and sighed. Grumbling, he rose to a sitting position and coaxed Brandy off his lap, before getting out of the car. I followed suit, Brandy hopping out lightly at my side. Severus went up to pay the driver, while I got out the suitcases and watched Brandy trot along the wall, sniffing eagerly and looking delighted. I decided it had definitely been the right decision to bring her along, and was secretly guilty that I hadn’t given her as much attention over the past months as I should have. My lips tightened to a thin line, but I kept my emotions in check. This was a break, I reminded myself. A break means no outbursts or hysterics, which I was going to keep to.

“Who was he?” I asked as Severus came up to Brandy and me, looking deep in thought. I watched as the car drove away. “He knew you, anyway.”

Severus nodded absently. “His parents were a Muggle and a witch. Works for both Muggles and wizards. He often gives me a drive if I have to act like a Muggle. Muggles might find our luggage a bit... peculiar.” He gave it a glance, as did I.

I raised an eyebrow. “Say that again, this time with more feeling, why don’t you?” He gave me a dry look, before casting a levitating charm on his luggage and walking towards the gates. I followed suit, with Brandy trotting at our heels looking excited. Glancing down at the Crup, I added, “That’s why Brandy didn’t try and get a chunk out of him.”

He blinked. “What charming wordplay you use.” He let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head.

“I’m just a poet in the making,” I replied, grinning. He returned it, before raising his wand and pointing it at the gates.

“Admissio!” he cried, something dark glimmering out of his wand. It hovered in the air for a moment, before dissipating into the gates. As moments passed nothing happened... and then the gates slowly creaked open.

I stared. “That’s it?” I asked, shooting him an incredulous look. He returned it calmly, before starting to walk forward again. I hurried to catch up with him. “That’s all you have to do to enter?”

“Of course not,” he answered tartly, looking decidedly unimpressed. “The spell does a lot more than convince the gates to open. They will only open for someone of the Snape lineage. If not... there are unpleasant consequences.” I decided not to let that thread run on any further than it had to. He gave me an appraising look. “I’m going to have to add you to the spell,” he murmured almost to himself. It suddenly hit me what that meant and I almost turned giddy. As if sensing this, he gave me a dry smile.

Looking around, I suddenly realised we were walking up the drive. And it was long. Trees surrounded us on either side, dark and dense, the leaves beginning to hesitantly creep out again, a bright green spattering on the branches. As I looked, I couldn’t help but notice that the previous Autumn’s leaves had all been raked up. The action said that someone worked here, even if it wasn’t Severus. It was rather interesting.

Brandy was having the time of her life, diving into the trees and plunging out again, barking like she’d been temporarily possessed. She was also causing one hell of a disturbance with the local bird population, who scattered from the trees, shrieking madly at the intrusion. Severus and I shared a wistful look, before we both called, “Brandy, quiet!” She gave us a grumpy look, but nevertheless quieted — slightly — instead deciding to see if she could sniff anything out.

“You would be chosen by a psychotic Crup,” Severus muttered. I glared at him, but he chose that moment to incline his head, saying, “We’re here.” I followed his gaze... and froze. God. Just... God.

The place was flippin’ huge.

I knew for a fact that the official title was Snape Manor, and that Severus came from a line rather like the Malfoys in that the generations stretched back over the centuries. I had the general idea that Severus was never going to be seriously worried about making ends meet, though he didn’t consider money to be the be-all and end-all. Considering our teaching salaries, however, I personally thought he should be happy that he had the extra money.

From what I could see of the manor, though, the ‘extra money’ was fast becoming the ‘whole lot of money’ in my mind. Jesus, I’d expected a big place, but considering I’d never actually seen a decent example of a manor (that wasn't falling into ruins), I knew now that my expectations hadn’t been anywhere near correct. I dimly hoped my jaw hadn’t dropped or anything.

“You’re staring,” Severus remarked. I tore my gaze away and stared at him instead. I don’t think he was too pleased about that, either, but tough. This kind of place usually expected stares. And I was giving it one heck of a go.

“It’s... big,” I managed to say eventually. The moment the words left my mouth, I grimaced. Talk about the understatement of the century. Severus merely gave me a gently sardonic smile, while I rolled my eyes in answer. “Okay, it’s really big.”

“The extent of your vocabulary astounds me,” he drawled in reply, but I merely flashed him a grin.

“Do you come here every summer?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Considering the abysmal amount of time Severus and I had actually spent as a couple, I knew next to nothing about where he actually lived. Well, I knew it was a manor, was very old and very big, but that was hardly the basis for a proper understanding of it. And asking questions was a good way to get him annoyed after a while.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead thinking about my question. It made me a bit uneasy, but I waited patiently. Finally he said, “No, not really. I come every few summers, but usually spend summer at Hogwarts. It’s easier.” Besides, why would I want to spend a summer here? was the unspoken reply that I heard anyway. He was right. Living in a manor on his own did defy a certain amount of logic.

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I settled for the easiest thing — saying as little as possible.

“Of course, that will most likely change this summer,” he went on quietly, glancing at me for a moment. “I dare-say you’ll be sick of Hogwarts by the time June comes around.” I still didn’t know what to say, but I gave him a small, bright smile that was better than anything I could have said.

We were standing before the front steps now, and I couldn’t help but stare up the house. Now that we were right up to it, it was even bigger than I’d thought. No wonder Severus hadn’t wanted to return to it that often. Living here on my own would have definitely depressed me, even more than I already was. Taking a deep breath, I followed him up the steps, clutching my suitcases in my hands. Bringing a trunk would have just been impractical.

The front doors opened when Severus was a step away from them, and a tall man peered out at us. His cold expression lightened when he recognised Severus and he stepped back, allowing us in. “Master Snape,” he greeted him, nodding. “It’s wonderful to have you back, even for such a short time.” I was impressed; I’d thought only Dumbledore and I could talk to Severus with such civility. I also couldn’t help but wonder how one got golden eyes into their family line. It was just more than a little unnerving. But he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and Severus respected him. That earned him many points from me.

Those unsettling eyes flickered over to me and immediately sharpened in interest. Uh oh. I knew what was coming. “And is this Mr. Potter?” he continued, remaining remarkably nonchalant about it. Well, thank you. I blinked, suddenly wondering how many people actually knew about me. The thought had honestly never struck me before, since I’d always assumed Severus had kept his private life... well, private, and never told anyone. Maybe I’d assumed wrong. I glanced uncertainly at Severus, unsure how to react.

Did he look slightly sheepish, or was that just me? “Harry, this is Beale. He’s guardian of the estate when I’m not here. Beale, this is Harry.” Severus did the motions to quickly introduce us to each other, looking like he wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

Hiding a smile at his discomfort, I held out my hand to Beale and said, “Pleased to meet you.”

He nodded, a smile on his own face. “I hope you enjoy your stay here, sir.” He managed to say this with a straight face. I was impressed, considering he definitely meant more than enjoying the scenery. I was twenty-two, after all. It was practically expected of me. I could fit into the stereotypes occasionally, after all.

“Harry, please,” I corrected him gently. The thought of anyone calling me ‘sir’ was just too bizarre. Beale raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Severus hastily grabbed me and tugged me away as discreetly as he could. Brandy trotted after us, looking amused at his antics. “The suitcases!” I protested.

“Beale will look after them,” he replied. “He knows where the bedroom is.” I went scarlet before I could help it, and Severus gave me an exasperated look. “You’re the twenty-two year old,” he reminded me. “I’m supposed to be the one going red.”

I scowled. “Why does everyone keep mentioning sex in one way or another?” Naturally, I got no answer, not that I expected any. “And why are you going to be a complete aristocratic prick and leave the luggage to him?”

“He gets pissed otherwise,” he told me bluntly. “Trust me, you never want Beale pissed at you.” I took him at his word, though I still didn’t agree.

“Are you going to show me around?” I asked as we walked, seeing as I hadn’t a clue where Severus was taking me. He gave me an incredulous look — his expression plainly saying, You want to be shown around? — and I gave him a cheerful smile in response. He sighed, but nevertheless agreed. I should have known better.

Snape Manor was one of those places that manages to be even bigger than it looks from the outside, and after an hour of the tour I was completely bewildered. I’d already decided the only way I was going to be able to find my way around was if I stuck to Severus like a burr. All things considered, it wasn’t a very bad idea. Severus didn’t make me feel any better by being utterly superior in the fact that he knew his way around perfectly. One more snotty remark, and I was ready to hit him. Hard.

I discovered several educational things, however, even if Severus hadn’t intended for me to see them.

We were passing a rather large set of mahogany doors that had the Snape crest carved on them. It immediately caught my eye and I veered towards them, not fully comprehending Severus’s protests until I was standing right before them.

“Why can’t we go in?” I asked, tracing the carving and looking at it intently.

He came up to me and upon glancing at him, I realised he was actually upset at the thought of us going in there. Whatever was in the room, he wasn’t fully comfortable with it, and I immediately felt guilty for even asking. “Come on,” I said quickly, taking a step away, “let’s go to the orchards or the gardens; Brandy would love the chance to run like a maniac...”

“No,” he replied abruptly, his expression set. There was no way in hell he was going to back down now. “Let’s go in. You had to see this sooner or later.” His jaw set in a determined fashion I knew all too well, he unlocked the doors (I was beginning to think ‘extremely paranoid’ was another trait to add to the Snapes) and stepped inside. I had no choice but to follow, Brandy at my heels.

It took me perhaps five seconds to realise it was a portrait room. Before me were hundreds of portraits, reaching right up to the ceiling, so many that my vision began to blur. It blurred even more when I realised I was looking at Severus’s ancestors.

We ended up spending over three hours there, mostly because I insisted on taking my time and looking at every portrait I could actually see clearly. It was a laborious process, and Brandy quickly dozed off while waiting for us to finish. Severus had a piece of background information for every one I saw, and it wasn’t surprising that every tidbit was either gruesome or had a nasty twist to it. After about twenty of these stories, I had come to the conclusion that Severus was actually rather normal, all things considered. Many of his ancestors certainly hadn’t been, and some of them were so twisted it was actually a bit frightening. Severus just seemed to accept it, however, with a shrug of his shoulders; I had the feeling he had simply given up having to answer for his ancestors’ crimes, so to speak.

When the third hour was nearly up, I knew we’d come to the reason for his hesitation in coming in: the portraits of his parents. I stared at Vanus and Alauda Snape, and the first thing that came into my head was that they were so different from each other.

Vanus Snape was the perfect example of a bitter, twisted man who had died insane and alone. I stared up at the pale man, tall even when sitting down. A haughty, disdainful expression made him appear malicious, his eyes sharp and resentful. His hands, clutching a pair of dark gloves, had been gripped together so tightly that his knuckles had whitened. He looked like he had hated every moment of the sitting. Staring up at him, a part of me whispered that could have been Severus if I hadn’t come along. Judging by his pensive expression, Severus knew it too. I wisely said nothing, moving onto Alauda’s portrait.

Unlike Vanus, she was beautiful. Anyone could see that. Like him she was pale and had dark hair, but hers fell around her shoulders in soft curls. Gentle dark-blue eyes stared out at me, but they held an infinite sadness in them that coupled with her wistful expression. Her hands lightly clutched a handkerchief — on closer inspection I realised it was similar to the one she had given Severus. Unlike Vanus, she looked like she was enjoying the sitting, or at least had a tolerance for it. But there was a sadness to her that I felt had probably never left her, the sadness of a woman who had unknowingly gone into a loveless marriage and had lived her life constantly under the threat of Voldemort.

Severus stood silently beside me, and I knew he was watching them along with me. “She was beautiful,” I whispered. “Really beautiful.” It sounded extremely stupid, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.

I glanced at him as he nodded. “I know,” he replied sadly. “I grew up hating the fact I was the exact image of Vanus, while always wishing I looked more like her.” A bitter smile curled his lips. “I remember asking why I couldn’t look more like her, and she used to shush me gently. But there was always panic lurking in her eyes, panic that I never understood the reason for as a child. Voldemort had eyes everywhere.” He paused. “He killed her, you know. Voldemort. Said she had too much influence over me. He persuaded Vanus that disposing her was the only way to go.” His expression turned hard.

I didn’t know what to say. What could you say to something like that? So I simply hugged him and held him close. I let him close his eyes and hate his father and Voldemort all over again for a moment. When we broke apart, his eyes were still blazing softly, but he looked more composed than he had been.

It wasn’t until we were going back outside that I realised what had been nagging me. None of the portraits talked. They were the first wizard portraits I’d seen that didn’t have this unique ability. When I posed this question to Severus, he gave me a rueful smile.

“It’s tradition,” he explained. “Snapes have never liked the idea that their portrait selves could talk and interact to a degree, particularly when they themselves were actually dead. A spell’s put on every portrait that goes up, to prevent them from being able to talk. We’re unique in all the Wizarding families in that respect.”

I snorted; trust his family to be difficult in some way. He smiled.

It occurred to me when he turned back to lock the door once more: why had he locked it at all? As far as paranoia went Severus wasn’t too bad, and it was only a portrait room. He tensed when I asked him this, and I realised I’d unintentionally trod upon thin ice again. What else is new?

“I... I didn’t want you to see my father, exactly,” he said at last, sounding like every word was torture. “He was a bastard, and well... I can’t really explain it,” he finished, sounding very unlike himself. Severus always knew what to say. Well, up to now. It hit me then exactly how much of an impact Vanus had had on Severus’ life, whether either of them had known it or not.

“Hey,” I told him firmly, walking over and giving him a sharp tap on the chest. “You’re the one who told me I couldn’t go backwards, so you should take your own advice. And this relationship means that I even have to know what an absolute prick your father was. I can deal with it, and so can you. Besides,” I added softly, “he’s dead. He can’t make your life miserable anymore.”

Severus gave me a crooked smile, but it only looked half-hearted at most. Somehow, he doubted my words. It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one going around with emotional baggage, and I paused with a grimace. “I messed that up, didn’t I?”

“No,” he replied quietly, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t.” Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and we walked down the hall. He held his back straight the entire time, and his step never faltered once. But I knew we’d only brushed the tip of the iceberg relating to this issue, and I had a lot more scratching to go through yet.

And as we walked, I couldn’t help but wonder what growing up with Lily and James Potter would have been like.

Breakfast was an affair where I drank vast amounts of coffee in an attempt not to bite anyone’s head off, while Severus and Beale hid their amusement at my ‘antics’, as they described my behaviour. They had a wonderful sense of humour.

Brandy, being a veteran of my moods, ignored me and concentrated on winning Beale over. Here, she met the first of her near-failures; Beale turned out to be mostly immune to her charms. He was polite and distantly affectionate to her, but that was all. I personally thought this was very good for her, but she only became more determined to win him over.

After breakfast, Severus went off muttering about something or other, and I decided to see if I could find my way outside on my own. After four corridors I became severely confused, and ended up coming across Beale, who appeared to be sorting through the accounts. He looked up, recognised me, and gave me a brief smile. “Lost?”

“Is it that obvious?” I looked around. “I would try and appear vaguely intelligent... but I can’t be bothered. Where am I?” Screw politeness, go straight for the frankness.

He grinned. “You’re in the East quarters, and intelligence never was a quality required in this place. Otherwise I’d be looking for another job.” I didn’t believe him for a moment; one look at him and you knew a sharp intelligence lurked behind that bland, polite expression.

“I was trying to find the way out, but I think I took a wrong turn... and kept on turning wrong,” I muttered, stuffing my hands into my pockets and glancing around at the sculptures and paintings around me. Now I wished I’d made Brandy stay with me, instead of letting her dash off to God-knows-where.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where did Master Snape go?” Beale, I’d quickly learned, had a frustrating way of addressing and referring to people. Severus had told me the night before that he’d given up years ago trying to stop Beale from addressing him by a title. But the man had accepted my request because I was... me. Apparently, as Severus’s lover, different rules applied to me. Or something. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended.

I shrugged. “He went off somewhere.” Obviously, since he wasn’t anywhere near us.

Beale’s other eyebrow went up. “And you let him?”

I stared. “Yes. Why?” Severus needed his space, hell, so did I. So why was I the only one who seemed to know this?

A strange expression crossed his face. “Follow me, Harry.” I had to hurry to catch up with him; he could definitely walk fast. We went through countless halls and corridors; I lost track after eight, so I decided to do the sensible thing and just follow Beale. But I did know we were going North, judging by the direction we were heading in and the scenery outside the windows. Wow, I knew something after all.

Beale led me further and further North and it didn’t take me long to realise we were in a distinctly older part of the manor, if the structure, artwork and plaster were anything to go by. It had never occurred to me that parts of the place were older than others, but it was entirely possible. Fires, floods and all that. And other possible events that I refused to think about.

“Where are we going?” I asked in an attempt to make some conversation. Beale had been walking briskly a few steps in front of me up to then, his face set in a determined fashion. For some reason his expression seemed ominous, though I couldn't imagine why for the life of me.

“You’ll see,” was his cryptic answer, and I gave up on any chance of a proper conversation. Instead, I settled for the safer option, and stayed quiet while I followed him.

He lead me down a very old-fashioned corridor to the solid oak double doors at the end of it. I couldn’t decipher the worn carvings on the wood, but I did notice that the edges were gilded. Even with age, it had a rather lovely burnished look to them. Once again I was reminded that Severus came from an extremely wealthy family, no matter what he thought of them. Thankfully, Alauda had somehow stopped him from becoming a spoiled brat when he’d been a child. Whatever she’d done, it was a good thing she’d done it.

Beale extracted a heavy set of keys from a pocket. Seeing my surprised look, he explained, “I have a set of keys to everything. It works better that way.” I nodded dumbly. He unlocked the doors and stepped inside confidently. I had no choice but to follow.

At first I thought I’d stepped into a forest. Then I realised it was just the fact the room was decorated mainly in green. And silver, I noted, glancing around. Slytherin colours. The symbolism didn’t escape me. I was betting most of the ancestors had been in the House, though Severus had never mentioned it. He didn’t like talking about those kind of things. The green was tasteful, but the silver made it seem cold.

It was a very large room, but the amount of furniture stuffed into it made it seem small, which had been the intent, I suppose. Aside from various suites of furniture scattered around, there were throw rugs, paintings, tapestries, bookcases, tables, even silk screens to divide up the room. It was rather overwhelming and I think Beale saw this on my face, for he gave me a gentle smile.

“What on Earth did they want this for?” I asked, assuming it was a guest suite... along with the other twenty guest suites, or more, I imagined there were. Snape Manor was obviously big, but what had one family wanted all these rooms for? The place was so vast about ten families could have lived here and never bothered each other.

It was ironic, really. After years of being told I would never amount to anything by the Dursleys, I’d somehow ended up with a guy who was filthy rich. And neither of us cared about it. My aunt and uncle would be rolling in their graves.

Beale’s smile broadened. “This was the Family Room,” he told me, making it sound like it had capital letters. “When Vanus was alive he preferred the Northern rooms for their coldness. His wife and son often had to spend much of their time here as a result.” I had the feeling they’d had no choice in the matter.

“Good for some,” I muttered and Beale laughed, weaving easily through the clutter (in my opinion) to a smaller door. He unlocked it and gestured at me to follow him. I did, and found myself in a smaller gallery, much like the one Severus and I had been in. I stared.

“This is the family’s personal gallery,” Beale explained, watching me look around. “The one Master Snape showed you is the one visitors would be shown, but this one would only be seen by the family and close friends. Of course,” he added dryly, “they being Snapes, they rarely have close friends they trust.” There was no arguing with him there.

I prowled around, unconscious of the fact it was a habit I’d picked up from Severus. There were many more portraits here than in the one I’d seen before. But they were Snapes all right; I recognised them from the gallery I’d seen earlier. The same faces stared back at me, whether younger or older than the first portrait of them I’d seen. They were all silent.

I stopped at Severus, unable to believe what I was seeing. He stared back at me, eyes glinting in a way that said he did not like this at all. His expression was disdainful and haughty, so much like Vanus’s it was chilling. I realised it had been a very good thing that I’d started Animagus training at fifteen, for both of us. Who knew what might have happened if I hadn’t?

His hair was longer than it was now, I noticed, tilting my head to give it a careful glance. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like it went down his back. My eyebrows shot up before I could help it. Beale smiled slightly, but it wasn’t a happy one. Severus was wearing dark robes, threaded in silver and shimmering green. The cuffs were tight, but the sleeves were so wide that they enveloped said cuffs. He wore a cream silk shirt underneath, the collar embroidered in black. His pants were black. The effect was, in short, stunning.

“He’s so... different,” I finally managed to get out, still unable to tear my eyes away from him. Even as a teenager, he had been striking in his own way. His hair hadn’t been greasy either.

“That’s an understatement,” Beale replied drolly, coming up and, lightly taking my arm, steering me to another painting. I found myself staring at this one, too, but for a very different reason.

Alauda and Severus sat on a couch, Severus nestled comfortably on his mother’s lap, looking happy and content. He couldn’t have been more than five, and he looked absolutely adorable. I gaped. His hands clutched in his mother’s, he smiled out at me, looking as if he was happy just where he was. His hair curled softly around his cheeks. But his eyes held the biggest difference of all. Instead of impatience and anger, there was happiness in them; they were positively shining. Anyone could see he adored his mother, and considered her the most important person in the world. I smiled softly. Even now, that hadn’t changed. Severus would never forget his mother. Ever.

There was even a certain innocence and naiveté about him, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering he was five. I found it hard to imagine a time when Severus had ever been innocent, but there had obviously been one. I suddenly realised how different things must have been for him, back then. Change wasn’t always a good thing, I realised with a sigh, before turning my attention to Alauda.

She had a gentle, affectionate smile on her face, her eyes sparkling. To any of the uninitiated, it would simply seem that Alauda was a young mother, happy and full of life, with not a care in the world except for her son, whom she clearly loved with all her heart. It must have been a joy for the artist, some would say, to paint that. Such a joy.

But I knew what Alauda’s marriage and life had really been like. I saw the desperate unhappiness in her eyes that mingled with the love, uneasiness and bordering panic that hinted Vanus wasn’t far away. I tried to imagine what it had been like for her, trying to raise her son to have morals and treat people with kindness and respect, with her husband and his Master waiting to mould him into the perfect Death Eater, so as to carry on the family legacy. Even imagining it filled me with panic.

Gradually my own mother took the place of Alauda, and I found myself wondering what it had been like for her, having a young son and being on the run from the Dark Lord. It had been different for her than it had been for me; Voldemort had been at the height of his power when she had been fighting him. I imagined with morbid curiosity what it had been like for her, protecting me even when she knew she was going to die, and I probably would as well... I shuddered, now staring at the painting in horror.

“Alauda was the only person able to make him smile, back in those days,” Beale remarked, looking at the painting with me, hands tucked into his pockets. “He loved her and she loved him. Vanus never mattered to either of them, not really. Neither of them — Vanus and Voldemort — liked that, the Dark Lord especially. After she died, nothing could make him smile again.”

“Severus said Voldemort killed her,” I whispered, still staring at the painting, but feeling slightly more calm now, putting all thoughts of Lily Potter to the back of my mind. I couldn’t think like that now. I had enough problems already, without wondering what dying had been like for my mother.

“Oh, he did,” Beale confirmed, his golden eyes narrowing in anger. “Said he’d do it if Vanus wouldn’t. Only bit of humanity Vanus ever showed, in my opinion.” I was inclined to believe him.

“You were there?” I asked, glancing at him. I’d thought he was younger than Severus, but then I remembered Severus looked older than he really was. It made guessing other ages in relation to him difficult.

Beale nodded. “I’m ten years older than Master Snape,” he explained, which made me feel sickeningly young. “My family have always worked for the Snapes; it’s been that way for generations. My father was teaching me the basics of working here when Alauda died. It... damaged him, in a way. He became constantly angry, snapping at everyone. I could barely get a civil word out of him, when before we’d been quite good friends. When he and his father argued, which was fairly often, it was a miracle the windows stayed intact.” He grimaced, looking furious, but I knew the anger wasn’t directed at me.

I nodded; what he said made sense. It proved that Severus had had a more personal reason to fight Voldemort, not only because he worked for Dumbledore. It also explained why Severus was so willing to do what Beale told him to. “He didn’t tell me all of that,” I said, “but that doesn’t bother me. I had to find most of it out on my own, anyway. He doesn’t like talking about his parents.”

Beale gave me a sharp, shrewd look. “See, that’s why you’re different from any of the others.”

I blinked — others?

Seeing my suspicious look, he quickly assured me, “Don’t worry, they only lasted a few days. See, with you — you don’t pry. You accept what he tells you, and you’re willing to wait until he’s ready to tell you anything else. They didn’t. That’s why he dropped them and loves you.”

I could feel myself blush, but he was continuing regardless, “And you’re the only one of them who’s ever made him smile like Alauda could and believe me, that’s no small feat.” He gave me a critical look and I raised an eyebrow. “You may be twenty years younger than him, but you’re the right one. I can tell.” My blush deepened, and Beale smiled broadly. “Come on; I’ll show you the way out.”

It was when we were walking back that I realised he hadn’t shown me the portraits on a spur-of-the-moment whim — he’d planned it. He’d wanted to show me a very good reason for Severus turning out like he had. And maybe this had been his own way of telling me that he approved of me, and agreed with Severus’ choice for a partner. I certainly hoped it was, since I wasn’t able to stop smiling. It seemed that I was good for Severus, depression, emotional baggage and all. It was hard not to smile at that.

All in all, I think Alauda would have been proud of Severus and how he’d turned out.

When I got outside I went in search for Brandy. I didn’t have to search far, since she immediately zoomed towards me, nearly knocking me down. “Lovely to see you, too,” I told her, kneeling down to rub her fur affectionately. She danced and leapt around me enthusiastically, clearly pleased with her morning’s work. I was the bit that made it all perfect.

“Hey girl,” I murmured quietly, gathering her so she settled comfortably in my lap, and proceeded to thread my fingers gently through her fur, working slowly and steadily. She sighed, thoroughly enjoying it, and closed her eyes as I worked. This was a holiday for her just as much as it was for Severus or me, and I was determined to give her all the attention that she rightly deserved. Brandy wasn’t complaining.

I stopped after ten minutes and she gave me a disappointed look, but it instantly disappeared as I began walking towards the gardens. Letting out a cheerful bark, she sped after me, trying to trip me up... and nearly succeeding several times. For that, she was getting dumped into the nearest body of water.

I was sitting against a tree, playing tug o’ war with Brandy, when Severus found us. “Hi,” I muttered to him, my eyes glued to Brandy as I held on tightly, gritting my teeth. Brandy growled, hunched against the ground, not willing to budge an inch. I tightened my hold, as did she.

Then Severus leaned over and kissed me on my neck. In the brief moment I wavered, my attention torn, Brandy gave an almighty wrench and succeeded in tearing the branch from my hands. She danced victoriously, giving me a smug look. Her expression didn’t need to be translated. Loser, she taunted me.

I scowled. “Damn.” I gave Severus a dirty look, to which he only responded with a smile. “You interfered!”

“Of course,” he said serenely, looking amused. Maybe Brandy was worried about my murderous expression, for she leapt onto Severus’ lap, attempting to subtly put herself between us. I glared at her. She simply wagged her tail. I vowed I would not sulk. Much.

“Oh, grow up,” Severus laughed, rolling his eyes but still looking amused. I grinned at him, before moving so I was closer to him. He took the hint and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing me against him. I breathed in his scent and let out a contented sigh. This was nice.

We sat there for God knows how long, silent but happy, until I remembered something I’d been meaning to ask him.

“I was talking to Lupin before we left,” I began.

“Mmm?” he muttered, not sounding very concerned. But was it my imagination, or had he stiffened up? Maybe it was just the breeze giving him a chill. I knew I wasn’t exactly lovely and warm.

“It was just the usual stuff, at first,” I went on slowly, trying to figure out a good way to say this, “but then, when I was leaving to meet Brandy and you, he said, ‘I hope you and Severus enjoy yourselves.’”

“Your point being?” Severus asked patiently. Maybe he assumed I’d already told Lupin about us, considering he was the calm one and would be able to ease Sirius into the idea of our being a couple. But that wasn’t the case, though it didn’t seem a very bad idea.

“I never told him about us.” I answered. “Did you?” I glanced up at him as I spoke, to see his eyes widen.

“No.” He looked seriously uncomfortable now. Exactly how I felt, with nervousness thrown in.

“Then how did he find out?” I asked, thankful my voice hadn’t risen in panic yet. Go me. “Who do you think told him? Dumbledore?” I wouldn’t put it passed him.

“Perhaps. Or maybe he figured it out himself.” Severus frowned. “Lupin’s a werewolf, after all. I think he can sense these things — he probably caught your scent on me, or mine on you, and came to his own conclusions.” I bit my lip; it made sense. A lot of sense. So why did I feel panicked, instead of relieved that someone else — besides Dumbledore — knew?

I felt my brow furrow as I tried to think. “But why didn’t he tell me he knew? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Severus shrugged, but he looked surprised that I’d even asked the question. I’d the feeling I’d just said a rather stupid thing, and that the gap in our ages was going to make itself known yet again. “Perhaps he just assumed he’d treat you like an adult, and that you — we,” he amended, “would tell him when we were ready.” He gave me a look that suggested he was slightly worried about me, and I sighed.

The idea was so simple that I was worried about myself. Of course Lupin would take that direction in things — according to the law, at least, I was a full adult in everything except experience, but of course that was never mentioned. Once someone hit twenty-one they were supposed to be a complete adult. Never mind the fact that at twenty-one, most people — myself included, at the time — didn’t know how to act as adults. Hell, I was nearly twenty-three and I was still coming to terms with what was acceptable as ‘adult behaviour’. It was a work-in-progress.

“I guess you’re right,” I replied softly, staring at the grass around me. “Still, you have to admit, it’s kind of freaky that he knows and hasn’t said anything.”

“No arguing with you there,” he agreed, scratching Brandy behind the ears. She always glorified in his attention, since he lavished it upon her.

At that moment everything was perfect. While Severus continued fussing over Brandy (not that he’d ever call it that), I leaned against his shoulder, lazily looking around and listening to Brandy yips of contentment. I watched the two of them and realised this was what life was about. This was what I lived for. Not for a job, not for money, but for this. The realisation stunned me, and I gaped at them with my mouth hanging open. It hit me that this was the perfect time to talk about things with him, right here when we were alone. The idea put a fire in me, and I acted upon the sudden impulse.

Seeing me sitting there with my mouth open, Severus gave me a concerned look. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “I was just thinking about... things,” I began hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes... um, that is...” I didn’t know where, or how, to begin. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few weeks,” I said, and nearly groaned at how corny I sounded. Oh, well. I guess saying it was the most important thing, no matter how it sounded.

“What about?” he asked, looking interested.

“Everything. The past.” I couldn’t help but notice his expression became guarded when I said that; clearly, he expected another outburst. “I... well... I know I have a problem. It’s more than just being moody, and being unable to let go of the past. It’s something more.” Severus opened his mouth to say something but I rushed on ahead. “I mean, there’s no logical or reasonable explanation for the way I’ve been acting lately, especially in the last few weeks! It’s like... I don’t know, it’s like I can never see the good side of things and I can never be happy with things as they are. There’s always something wrong, or something that could be better. I seem to expect things to be perfect, and blow up when they’re not. I explode if the slightest thing goes wrong, and I bolt at the first sign of trouble!” I was aware my voice was going slightly hysterical, and paused. “Like I’m doing now,” I ended softly.

“Depression,” Severus whispered, his expression grave and sombre. I nodded silently.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Telling you was as far as I’d gone in the thinking stage. I sort of assumed you’d be able to tell me what to do.” I realised then that I was really out of the thinking-like-an-adult loop. “I’ve never dealt with depression before, so... I really have no idea what to do.”

Severus spent the next few moments thinking hard, his brow furrowed. Brandy, sensing my emotional upset, crept over to me and nuzzled my hands affectionately, settling in my lap. I buried my fingers in her fur, taking comfort in her solid warmth, and waited for him to say something.

“What do you think of seeing a counsellor?” he asked at last. I blinked and stared at him. There were wizard counsellors? I’d been in the wizarding world for over eleven years, but wizard counsellors were something I’d never come across. Probably for obvious reasons. They did make sense, though. Correctly interpreting my silence, he added, “Yes, they exist. Dumbledore sent me to one for the first few years I was teaching.” No explanations were needed to explain that course of action.

“Do you think they’d help?” I asked him hesitantly.

“It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” he replied gently. I thought for a moment, and then nodded. He smiled. “Good. Think about it for a while, before you decide to do anything. Seeing a counsellor isn’t a step to be taken lightly.” He paused, before continuing, “You know you’ll still have me, don’t you?”

I nodded, going red. “I was counting on it, actually.”

“Thank God; I was getting worried there for a moment.” He leaned over and nuzzled my neck lightly. “You know I’ll always help you in anything as much as I can. And I’m going to help you through this. You’re stuck with me.”

I grinned. “And that’s a bad thing?” He chuckled, nuzzling my neck harder. I sighed, closing my eyes. For a moment I was about to feel guilty for leaving him all those years ago, but I stopped myself. I’d had my reasons, even if they hadn’t turned out to be exactly right. There was no use feeling guilty about it. Brandy tactfully disappeared into the trees somewhere.

Then he was kissing me, my hands were in his hair, and things couldn’t have been any better.

That night we lay in bed, arms wrapped around each other and legs entangled. His breathing was quiet and even, but I couldn’t sleep, instead watching the half-moon through the windows and the generous burnish of stars that surrounded it in an ink-black sky. Brandy was dozing by the fireplace.

Severus was warm and I felt no inclination to move, but I simply couldn’t sleep, with only half an idea why. I thought he was asleep, but I soon realised my bout of insomnia was, in fact, being noticed. “Why can’t you sleep?” he murmured, his voice drowsy. His grip on me tightened, as he moved closer to me, if that was even possible.

I sighed. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe I can’t stop thinking about today.” I paused. “Or maybe I’m turning into an insomniac.” Severus didn’t laugh, not that I’d expected him to; the situation in general was no laughing matter.

“Why would today trouble you so much?” he asked quietly, and I knew he wanted me to turn and face him. I didn’t. Right now I had more chance of speaking the truth if I did it on my own. Sighing, I thought for a moment, before answering.

“Maybe because I’ve finally admitted I really have a problem,” I said softly, staring through the windows into the night. “I can’t deny it anymore, but I have the chance to be able to move on.” Thankfully my emotions were too exhausted to be that uncomfortable, for once.

“We have the ability to move on,” Severus corrected me, pressing his lips against my neck. His tone plainly meant no arguing was permitted. “I meant what I said: I’m going to help you through this.”

“I know. Thank you,” I replied, one of my hands finding his. My grip was rather tight. Not that I was paranoid, or scared, or anything like that. Not at all.

“Our lives are too intertwined for anything less,” he remarked, somehow remaining composed and thoughtful. “Unless you’re going to have another emotional fit,” he suddenly asked, sounding suspicious.

I flushed, but managed a brief, rueful laugh. “No, I think my days of having fits are over. I hope, anyway,” I amended quickly. “I can’t guarantee it.” No use making promises I mightn’t be able to keep.

“Thank God for that,” Severus muttered. “I was dangerously close to finding a non-harmful way to knock sense into your head.” I chuckled lightly, before sighing and settling in closer.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” I told him softly, after a few moments of silence. “I kept expecting you to just give up one day and walk away. Most people would have.” God, was this Reveal-Your-Worst-Inner-Fears Day, or something?

“I’m not most people,” he replied, after a moment of consideration. He didn’t seem surprised or uneasy about the direction the conversation was going. He’d probably expected it, and just patiently waited for me to bring it up.

“Lucky for me,” I answered, finally turning around to face him. I touched his face lightly, gently tracing his right cheekbone. “You’ve been remarkably patient with me ever since we first got together. One day, I swear I’ll make it up to you. You’ve no idea what’s it’s meant to me.” I was the most honest I could remember being in months. I liked it.

He gave me a brief smile. “Oh, I probably do. And you don’t have to make it up to me. You know that.” Then, before I could say anything, he leant down and kissed me.