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Chapter Text

"Hold on." Harry closed the front door and walked back down the hallway to the living room, entering Snape's study with a knock. The professor was standing by the bookcase, flipping through some book.

"Sir? ’Mione and Ron are going to Hogsmeade... May I go with them?"

Snape raised his face to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," he said gently.

"Please." Harry stepped towards him. "We'll Apparate straight to the Three Broomsticks and come back the same way. And the Durmstrangs will come with us, as they always do. Everywhere," he added grimly. "And if anything happens, I can get us home, even through the Hogwarts Shields. You know that!"

"I am aware of how much you need at least a semblance of a normal life, but the risk isn't worth it."

"Nobody knows about this. We just agreed on it! What could happen?!"

Black eyes rested on him, deep and serious. "Anything."

"Come on...! Please, just this once," Harry insisted. "I haven't been there since... almost a year, actually!"

"I know." Snape nodded.

"For a bit. At least for a little bit! Remus and Sirius can come with us. I'm sure they wouldn't mind!"

"Harry, stop," Snape said quietly. "I said no."

Harry stood a step ahead of him, so he reached out a little further and kissed him.

"Please," he whispered.

Apparently, he had somehow unleashed his wild magic again, because the man in front of him turned into an ice statue in a second.

Okay, this wasn't a good idea, Harry thought nervously. He pulled away. His black pupils were pointed at him, sharp and cold.

"Don't ever do that again," Snape uttered.

And the feeling of uncertain guilt quickly turned to defiance.

"Say no more," Harry muttered, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"I trust you will listen."

"And isn't the real problem that Sirius would be there?" Harry asked. But he didn't wait for a response, closing the door behind him, perhaps a little more firmly than he had originally intended. Well, he wasn't going to apologise. He returned to the corridor to find Ron and Hermione looking up at him hopefully.

"So?"

Harry summoned his walking robe, dressed, and went out, slamming the door.

"You can go!" Ron yelled excitedly.

"No," Harry growled. "I'll walk you to the border."

"Bloody Snape," Ron muttered angrily as Hermione sighed in frustration. Harry said nothing, bursting into angry speed, the other Gryffindors barely keeping up with him. They made their way out of the dungeon corridors, Harry's Durmstrang shadows joining them at the castle exit. They all walked out into the gloomy Saturday afternoon.

"He's right," Hermione whispered. "It was stupid of us."

"I know he's right!" Harry snapped. "Damn... Sorry, ’Mione."

She shook her head with a smile. "It's okay."

"I'm pissed," Harry muttered. He pulled his robes tighter to his body; the wind was bloody cold. "I don't even know who I'm mad at."

"We don't have to go there either," Ron said awkwardly. "Come on, let's go to the tower. We can have a butterbeer there. It'll be fun."

"Great idea, Ron." Hermione nodded cheerfully, turning back around.

"Not a chance," Harry interjected vigorously. "You're going to have a great time! And you'll buy me chocolate frogs on the way back. Lots of chocolate frogs. Okay?!"

Ron and Hermione held a silent conversation.

"I insist," said Harry stubbornly.

"A mountain of frogs," said Hermione.

"Before you finish them all, you'll be jumping like one." Ron grinned.

Harry chuckled. The angry knot in his body was slowly unravelling. He punched his friend gently in the shoulder.

"Let's go, it's freezing."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione shook her head. She pulled out her wand and cast a warming spell on him. "You really should be used to being a wizard by now."

Harry shrugged, frowning. "I can't remember everything. That's what we have you for."

That got him a punch from them both, and they continued on in much better spirits. The spell created such a barrier of warmth around him, not even the biting wind could penetrate it. They walked slowly, the fallen multicoloured leaves rustling underfoot, floating around them in enthusiastic swirls.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly through his Occlumency Gate.

It took a full three seconds for Snape to reply. "I understand."

"You're angry," Harry said unhappily. "I'm sorry for what I said. About Sirius... I know you're right. And it's not your fault."

"I'm sorry I can't allow you to do this small thing," Snape said mildly. "I know you miss your friends."

"A little," Harry admitted. "... Were you serious about the kiss thing?"

"Of course not. I'm a known prankster."

Harry laughed uncertainly. "So what did you mean by it?"

"I don't like blackmail," Snape said calmly.

"I wasn't blackmailing you!"

"Not even a hint of coercion...?"

"None at all," Harry replied, "I just can't help myself when I see you. Are you still busy?"

"Nothing that won't bear delay," Snape said carefully.

"Nice. So we could do something?"

"Specify the action to be taken."

"Well, maybe... maybe I could apologise. Properly," Harry said lightly.

"Ah. So this action."

"Yeah." Harry chuckled. "So?"

"Come to think of it, and considering that you still don't understand what a serious offence you've committed, it occurs to me that I'm very, very angry with you."

Oops. Harry bit his lip sharply, heat roaring through his groin.

"Sounds like I should apologise really profusely."

"You probably should," Snape replied, his voice like velvet.

"Would a bouquet of Vilcacora fix it?"

"Let me think... Hmmm. No."

Harry laughed out loud. Ron and Hermione looked back at him in surprise, and he masked it with a cough.

"Okay. I'll try to think of something... better."

"I'm very intrigued," Snape's deep voice whispered, causing the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end.

"We're here," Ron said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry hugged them both briefly. "Enjoy yourselves."

"I'm sorry you can't come, mate," Ron announced unhappily.

"I’m not," Harry muttered. "Go on then. See you at dinner. And don't forget the frogs!"

Ron and Hermione crossed the Hogwarts grounds’ line and, hand in hand, they made their way towards Hogsmeade. Harry gave them one last wave and, with his Durmstrang shadows, made his way back to the castle.

"Thank you, Harry."

"For not letting me do another stupid thing, or for putting up with my cute teenage tantrums?" Harry asked.

Snape smiled. "For your wisdom, puppy."

Happiness blossomed in Harry's chest. Love swelled to the tips of his fingers; only to have everything in him freeze to the bone as a muffled Crucio sounded in the quiet afternoon, followed by a cry; a terrible, painful girl's cry.

"No, Harry, no! Stop! No!"

He took one more step, jumped and landed, the Hogwarts shields bursting up from the ground in full force just a step behind him, the third of his Durmstrang shadows too late to follow. Harry scrambled to his feet, still running, the two Durmstrangs with him, wands in hands, flying forward. The magical barrier cut off Snape's voice. Hermione was screaming. Ron, too. Harry was breathless as he caught sight of them both writhing in the dust of the path, held under Crucio. 

Who had cast it? Where was the bastard? Harry looked around frantically, rage staining the forest red. At the edge of his vision, he caught a glimpse of something. Too fast for a human, it was more a blur of movement hurtling towards him. The Durmstrang on his left side jumped forward, and something slammed into them both. It knocked them to the ground, the impact so rough, it took Harry's breath away for a moment. Yellow fangs flashed before his face, eyes wild. No, they weren't human, no...

"Fulmine Tactus!" shouted an unfamiliar voice, probably the second of the Durmstrangs.

One orange flash, and the terrible weight eased, part of it sliding off with a dull thud. Harry lay on his back, the bloodied Durmstrang student on top of him. Finally catching his breath, he rolled over, and the young man slid off him. Harry jumped to his feet, his wand flying through the space. Then he realised that Hermione and Ron were no longer screaming. The girl was gasping with tears, Ron talking hoarsely to her as they tried to get up on their feet.

"Fenrir Greyback," came a breathless voice from beside Harry. "He's dead. ...And Renard, too."

Harry looked down at the ground. The body of the large werewolf showed no signs of life. Neither did the young man beside him. Harry fell to his knees, rolling over the young lad in horror. The shock took away his words. The young man's bloodied throat was mauled, his chest carved open, and blood-red ribs were sticking brokenly out of the tangle of torn flesh.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "We should go."

"Harry! Harry, we're coming!"

The shields had to be down, but help was rushing to them... Not that Harry was aware of it.

"He's dead," he gasped in shock. He jumped in front of me, and now he's dead.

The grip on his shoulder briefly intensified, and a flat bottle appeared in front of his face. "This'll help."

Harry mindlessly took it. He's dead. Another person dead because of me. Why don't I ever listen to Snape?!

"Harry," Ron wheezed, stumbling towards him. Hermione was sobbing softly next to him now.

Harry tipped the bottle and drank it all, feeling it burn sharply in his throat. It helped a little against the shock.

"We've got to get back," he grunted, bracing his palms against the ground and rising from his knees—and sand soaked with fresh blood hit him in the face. Harry collapsed to the ground as if he'd been cut down.

The other Durmstrang boy waved his wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry heard another thud, and Ron fell under the Petrificus. He blinked. Hermione's scream. Blink. The werewolf slowly got up. Blink. Darkness.

He had a dull, throbbing pain in his temples, a dry mouth, and heavy brain fog. Harry's eyelids fluttered. He fought his way to consciousness as if he were trudging through sticky, thickened mud.

He automatically reached for Iskariot first but he remained blind and deaf. Magicuffs, of course...

Nothing hurt except his head. Harry opened his eyes, finally managing to focus. He was in a small room of some sort, the floor made of beaten planks. A wooden cabin. Harry scanned his surroundings, Hermione and Ron? He couldn't see them.

He looked up in the direction of sounds at last. Sitting at the rough table was the werewolf and Lestrange. The Durmstrang boy, too… traitor . The entire surface of the wooden tabletop was covered with tiny vials.

"Who woke us up?" Bellatrix smiled.

Harry swallowed hard. Voldemort. Isn't he there...? He should be here.

Who cast the cuffs?

"What do they teach children in that school, nowadays," Bellatrix mumbled disapprovingly. "Can't you say hello, dear?"

Harry frantically banished the fog from his mind. Concentrate! Lestrange isn't stronger than me; I'll break the cuffs. I can do this.

Had Fenrir cast them?

"Wondering what we're doing?" Bellatrix corked the vial, shook it, and set it down. She reached for another, put something into it, and popped the cork back. The werewolf and the Durmstrang boy did the same.

It doesn't matter who cast them. I'll break them. I know I can do it. I stopped the curse, and I broke through the Hogwarts shields—I'll break out!

The fog was thinning, panic raging through his head, through his chest, seeping into his muscles... No. Harry denied, I'm not scared. I can defend myself.

He looked squarely at Bellatrix.

I will defend myself.

"When you ask so nicely, I'll tell you," Bellatrix announced sweetly. "In each of the vials you see here is a Permisceo Evitera. And within, a few drops of blood. Muggle blood. I think there's a few squibs, too. And," she smiled at him, "of course, your blood, my dear."

It was only now that he became aware of the stabbing pain in his left hand, the deep cut across his palm still bleeding. Harry paled.

"I see you understand." Bellatrix nodded, pleased. "Yes, that's right. We'll mix your magic with all this non-magic filth... What will be left of you then, Harry James Potter? What do you think?" Bellatrix leaned a little towards him from the table, lowering her voice furtively. "A small gift for my master." She winked. "Don't give me away."

Dozens. There were dozens of them. Harry stared frantically; have they done it already?! Have I drunk any?!

The wild fairy-like woman laughed, and the Durmstrang boy joined her in a more subdued voice. The werewolf growled something.

Harry squeezed his eyelids shut, fiercely pushing out fear and his racing thoughts. He concentrated, gathering his strength. I know you're in me. Come. He pushed his consciousness into his bonds, imagining them breaking. I can do this. I know I can.

"This is a pretty boring job. You see, I've never enjoyed potions," Bellatrix drawled. She turned to Harry, her red lips pouting. "But I hear you quite like them, my dear. Ones like the Drink of Desire... Who did you drink it with, I wonder?" she uttered plaintively. "Twice, oh yes, twice now. How was it, dear?"

Harry found himself staring at her. How did she know?!

"Oh, don't say anything, I know anyway." Bellatrix laughed. "Our dear Severus has always had a thing for great wizards." She leaned towards him again, a look of eagerness on her face. "Who do you think brewed this Evitera?"

"He didn't!" Harry hissed; he couldn't help himself.

Damn it, enough! Don't be an idiot. She's just trying to confuse you—focus. Power. Magic. Attack.

Now.

Again, he pushed himself with all his will, forcing his power into the magicuffs, and this time he felt as if something sparked faintly inside him. Yes, yes! That's it.

Bellatrix set the vial down with a clink and took another.

"I know a lot more than that, darling. Like the fact that he broke Imperio for you. Or did it happen a little differently...? But whatever, it doesn't matter now anyway. I also know that you two can communicate with each other through Legilimens. ...Darling? Aren't you going to ask how I know all that?"

I don't have to. There's only one person.

Draco.

The sense of betrayal bit poisonously into his insides. Harry drove it into non-existence. Concentrate!

On a single strike.

Bellatrix rose from the table, shaking the contents of the vial with a graceful motion of her manicured hand. She walked over to Harry.

"That's not fair," she announced, "you're not curious at all."

Leaning forward, sweet perfume hitting Harry's nose, Bellatrix reached close to his ear and whispered softly: "Puppy."

No.

No.

Severus wouldn’t.

The molecules of air ceased to move, even the eternally oscillating atoms of matter stopped. Total stillness, like a deep breath before jumping into water.

A mighty black wave, cruel, struck from within his breast, shooting into his muscles, piercing his bones, and rotating like razor blades under his skin. Like an unceasing frenzied avalanche, it rushed through the pores of his body, gushing out and destroying everything in its path in a roiling whirlpool of rage, grief, and hatred .

Not Severus!

The rush of magic passed through him like gamma rays, Harry bursting from the inside, numb as living flesh in an open wound. The room spun.

Silvery mercury flooded the Hall of Consciousness, Severus' love rushing in. Seconds later, real arms gripped him, and Severus stood by his side.

"Are you okay?! Harry!"

Harry lifted his head and looked into those dark eyes full of fear.

"I don't believe it," he said through gritted teeth.

Magical fire surrounded the room, smouldering smoke and flames licking the walls and crawling across the floor. Pieces of furniture scattered everywhere, shattering the nearby glass. Three lifeless bodies lay on the floor. And amongst it all stood Potter, eyes glowing, his silver and black robes billowing, an aura of static energy  surrounding him.

Unharmed.

What happened here? What don't you believe?

"We have to get out of here," Severus said.

He grabbed his arm. The young man did not resist; he walked as if in a dream, his magic fading. The smoke grew thicker as they reached the threshold. Severus pushed him out before looking back at the scene behind them. He saw the werewolf try to rise with a snarl, Bellatrix moved her hand manically. The bloodied man lifted his head, stunned.

"Petrificus Totalus," Severus whispered. Twice.

He walked out, carefully closing the door behind him. Taking Potter around the shoulders, he Apparated them home.

Harry endured Madam Pomfrey's care, Ron and Hermione's desperate hugs, and Karkaroff's vows of loyalty, then Dumbledore's thoughtful silence and Remus and Sirius' terrified grips. And then they finally let him go.

The fireplace moved them home. Snape went with him, and they stepped out onto the mat. Harry took his hand and, without a word, led him to his room. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed, pulling Snape down with him.

The man lay down beside him, and Harry pressed the full length of his body against him, burying his face in his chest and sliding his hands under his broad shoulders.

It's not true. I know it's not true.

Strong arms wrapped around his back; Snape hugged him tightly. Harry could feel his breath in his hair, his heart pounding against his cheek. The same as always. Even his wonderful scent hadn't changed, it was as seductive as ever.

If he betrayed me, it would have to be known somewhere.

"May I come to you?" a deep voice whispered. Harry let it ring through him. Yes... still the same.

He nodded silently.

A blessed chill entered his mind. Harry let it permeate him to the very last fold; it was still the same. Liquid beauty from an imaginary embrace. The same!

Meanwhile, Snape was going over his memory from the cabin. The poison of Bellatrix's words spread throughout his calm consciousness, but Harry unknowingly defended it with a barrage of Gentianas.

Snape pushed the memory away, and it blended into a chaotic jumble of free-flowing images. He held Harry's imaginary body as tightly as he did the real one.

"Draco didn't betray you," he said calmly. "He hasn't left Hogwarts in weeks. He's very devoted to you and Albus. To me. He never really wished to be a Death Eater, as the Dark Lord's cruelties terrify him. Draco isn't a murderer. He doesn't have that predatory instinct... and above all, he's not as good a liar as you might think. We would know. No, Draco didn't betray you."

"I know," Harry muttered.

Quiet. Long silence.

"...Nor did I," Snape gasped, Iskariot sending a sharp jolt of pain through the Hall.

Harry hooked his fingers into his shoulders.

"I know," he forced between his teeth.

"I have no idea how she knew about 'puppy.'"

His eternally velvet voice somehow seemed harsh. Maybe it was the pain that was creeping treacherously over the threshold.

"The Durmstrang boy," said Harry firmly. "It was him. He must have heard."

Snape seemed to nod. And then he froze in that movement. He shook his head loosely, letting free a rush of pain mixed with electrical discharges.

"He might have discovered the Drink of Desire. I don't know how Draco got it. Considering you spend almost all of your free time with me, especially nights, I'm a logical candidate. And he could have noticed our intimate communication. Yes, he could have. But as far as 'puppy' goes, only Poppy has heard the name. And she would never have spread the word. Harry, I don't know how Lestrange found out. ...But I know I didn't betray you."

"I know."

"I didn't brew the Evitera."

Harry looked up in the real world and what he saw startled him. Snape’s black pupils were abysmal and rough with agony. Unable to think of anything else, he simply reached up and kissed him.

"I know that, Severus."

"You don't know," he rasped. "You only hope."

"I know!" yelled Harry. "I don't need any proof. I just need to look at you, and I know. I do know you're hiding something from me! Something bad. But not that you don't love me. Not that."

The suffering in the man's face changed then, intensifying. It blended with his features so sharply that it almost broke Harry's heart.

"Yes." Severus nodded slowly. "I love you."

Harry swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "... There you go."

Cool palms slid over his body, comforting. They satiated a strange, vague hunger that gnawed at his soul. And the contact stilled both Halls of Consciousness.

"Who took your place by Voldemort?" Harry muttered much, much later. "Do you know?"

He sighed. "I don't know. He's hiding him, and he hasn't attended any of the rallies I've watched through the Iskariots. But he's good. Very good."

"And you have no idea who it might be?"

"There are several Potion Masters in England but, as far as I know, I was the only one who succumbed to the lure of black magic. And Evitera is a very complex black potion."

"So that means he's from somewhere else. No?"

Snape shook his head. "During one of the Order's operations, they managed to obtain a Polyjuice Potion that one of the Death Eaters was carrying. Upon examining it..."

"At what operation of the Order?!" Harry jumped in, startled. "Why don't I know anything about it? What happened? When?!"

"Because it's not your job," Snape said mildly.

"How is that?! Did he attack someone again? Kill someone? I should know this. Why aren't you telling me?!"

"And what good would that do? You'd be worrying needlessly about things you can't control."

"I can!"

"Harry." He placed a kiss in his hair. "Don't try to be a will-o-the-wisp. Your place is elsewhere."

Harry stared in frustration at his pale skin, at the quivering spot where his pulse throbbed. Feelings were brewing inside him, but Snape was right. He always was. Harry's job was to grow stronger, to gain control of his own magic.

"Is it very bad?" he whispered resignedly.

"No," Snape said. "Not yet."

"Okay... Will you tell me when it gets there?"

"Yes."

Harry snuggled closer, kissing the butterfly spot on his neck. "Thank you. So, what did you get out of the Polyjuice Potion?"

"That he uses local ingredients. You have to live here for years to know what herbs are most valuable in a given season, and which magical greenhouses produce truly pure ingredients... There is much that a foreigner cannot know. And he uses only the best."

"You're worried," Harry said.

"Yes. If only because the Dark Lord keeps him from the others."

"How could he be dangerous to us? I mean, I know potions are powerful and can do a lot, but..."

"It is always good to know your enemy. That's all."

"You'll figure it out."

"Yes. One day, certainly."

"... I didn't drink it. Not one. Did I?" said Harry.

"No," Snape said briskly, "we would have known that by now. Your magic is exactly the same. It's all right, Harry."

"Fine," Harry breathed in relief. "What would that do to me? Probably wouldn't be good, right?"

"I have no idea. Your magic could go wild in self-defence, or it could be destroyed completely. It could destroy you. I mean, they wanted to implant something dead inside you..."

The words died in his mouth as the strength of his embrace multiplied.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered.

"Yes." Snape nodded firmly. "And you defended yourself all on your own. Even without your wand. You're very strong."

"Did I kill them?" asked Harry. Weakly. Quietly.

"No, Harry, you didn't; they were all alive when we left."

"... But there was a fire. Could they have gotten out in time?"

Snape turned his face a little and kissed him on the forehead.

"If Merlin wished it, then they certainly did."

Harry lay silent for a moment.

"I hate her," he said then.

"Me too." Snape nodded, and something in those words made Harry look up, a searching glance sliding across his features.

The deep wrinkle between his black eyes was more pronounced, giving him a touch of hardness. An implacability. This was the face of a man staring at his house in flames. He'll stand there until the last of the beams fall, and then he’ll turn and, with his own hands, punish the one who caused it.

You can condemn it. Or you can pull back the curtain and see how much love and pain is behind it.

Harry moved one hand out from under his body and touched the wrinkle. He caressed it. I wish I had your hands. I wish I knew how to scare away suffering...

"That's what you do," Severus whispered.

Harry moved his other hand, his fingers reaching into Snape’s hair to pull him closer. This wasn't about passion, though the tame kiss soon deepened to a fierce need to merge, to join so inescapably that concepts like you and I ceased to exist, and only the us remained . And it wasn't desire that guided Harry's fingers as he undid one tiny button after another before he could finally reach the soft alabaster skin of Severus' chest. It was sheer need—to know, to feel so absolutely that there could be no doubt; you're with me, you're here. You are mine, and I belong to you.

I love him. I love him madly, Harry realised. The feeling was so strong, it made the flesh under his nails tingle. Would I love him even if he betrayed me...?

"I didn't betray you," Severus breathed desperately.

Harry remained staring at him, tickled by the hot air as it bounced off Severus' skin and back to him. Because he realised one more thing.

"I don't care," he whispered.

"But I do! "

Harry rolled over violently. He had to. He pulled Severus close to him, hiding his face in his palms. It was surely worse than looking at Medusa; there were tears in his black eyes. That look could kill you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Can you forget what I said?"

Severus gripped him tightly. "Don't you ever speak those words again," he said harshly.

"I won’t. I’m sorry."

Partially propped up on his elbows, Severus’ left hand began to work its way through Harry’s hair, the fingers of the other caressing Harry's face. Harry dared to look up then. Severus was looking at him, his face serious... and loyal. 

How could I doubt you?! Forgive me! Harry ran his hands over the man's back, his shoulders, intertwined between his arms, then brought his palms to the man's face. He stroked it, gently tracing the expressive features.

"Now scold me. I disobeyed you again."

"I don't think I'm in a position to chastise you, Harry," Severus argued quietly.

"I'm still sixteen," Harry muttered in confusion. "And you were right!"

His black gaze slid over him; deep, tender. Even the tips of Harry’s fingers felt the goosebumps that look caused.

"I was terribly worried about you," Severus said.

Harry's throat tightened sharply.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry... I'll try to do better, I promise!"

Severus barely shrugged. "Try to stay alive. That's all I want."

Harry pressed his lips together, overcome by a rush of something scorching hot.

"You too," he said.

Severus nodded. "Deal."

"Deal."

Severus leaned down then, the tip of his tongue sliding softly over Harry's throat in a long, wet caress.

"May I pleasure you?" he asked, his deep, velvety voice so seductive, every hair on Harry's body stood on end.

"I'd rather the pleasure be mutual," he groaned. And it certainly wasn't a rejection.

"I assure you it will be," Severus said seriously.

There was no reply, only a low groan from inside Harry. Severus undressed him, slowly, without magic or spells, blessing every inch of skin with his lips. By the time he had wormed his way to his waist, he had pushed the memories of today and yesterday from Harry's thoughts, leaving only pleasure and delicious oblivion.

"Severus... Like the first time. Please!"

As Severus undid the button of Harry’s trousers and slid the zipper down, he kissed the soft line of pubic hair that stretched down his stomach and disappeared beneath the hem of the fabric. Then he pulled himself up again to Harry's lips and hungry hands. He allowed Harry to rip his shirt off before they pressed their bare skin against each other. They entwined their legs, Harry's groin eagerly pressing against his body.

"Come with me... come with me, Severus," Harry whispered, moaning into his mouth. "I want to see you. I want to see this. Severus!"

Eyes clouded with passion, his hands roamed greedily over Severus’ back. Entranced by the movement of the muscles beneath thin skin, his fingers dove into his dark hair and then, unable to resist the urge, they swept downwards, skimming over the edge of Severus' trousers and sliding, for the first time, over the rounded shape of his buttocks. If every part of the body had an erotic charge, then this place was a volcano. Harry dug his fingers into it, pressing it against him with a force that might have hurt if, of course, pain had any meaning in the immensity of wonder and delight that coursed through him. He opened his eyes wide, gazing at Severus' face, which was so close and so consumed with a mute passion that coloured his expression, that it took words from Harry’s mind. And the ability to think. 

Harry stared, drinking in his gaze, wanting—needing—to catch every twinge of feeling that rippled across his features. He kissed him then, pressing him to his body as he surrendered unreservedly to the pressure of Severus’ palm guiding his hips in a firm rhythm against Severus' moving body. They moved together. With each thrust, fireworks of sparks shot from his groin into his gut, searingly beautiful, until the sensation became a steady stream. Harry felt as if he were melting, Severus' delicious weight making his lungs quiver. The taste of his mouth was mesmerising as they kissed and bit; it was impossible for them to get their fill. It was pleasure without limits. Oh, to stay this way with you forever... My love!

Then Harry was throwing his head back with a guttural groan, his body jerking through his orgasm. He caught a glimpse of Severus' eyelids squeezing tightly shut, his lips parted in a hot gasp. He was coming, he really was, flashed through Harry's sharp mind. And his happiness was absolute.

Then he was curled in Severus’ arms, cradled on the dying waves of ecstasy and breathing in the scent rising from Severus' skin, salty with sweat.

Finally, the ground beneath him was firm enough for Harry to face the last of his thoughts.

"His name was Renard," he whispered. "I am so terribly sorry! "

The strong arms increased their pressure slightly.

"Why so? That was his free choice, Harry. I shall never cease to be grateful to him for it. You must accept his gift with respect," Severus said calmly. "Give him the honour he is due. Do not diminish it by being uncertain of whether you deserve it."

"With respect," repeated Harry. And suddenly, as if an unbearable weight had fallen from his shoulders, he felt as light as a misty haze rising from the woods in the early morning. "Yes. That's exactly what I'll do." Fixed on the thumping sound of Severus' heart, he closed his eyes. "Thank you."

At first, it was just seeping into the dream. Then the feeling grew stronger, more distinct. Finally, Harry could clearly make out cool fingers sliding across his cheek.

He opened his eyes. Snape was sitting by his bed, already dressed and smelling faintly of soap, his black eyes smiling. Harry remained lying there, with the still-sleeping Lily buried in his arms, and just stared into his eyes.

"Good morning, kitten," Snape said in a muffled voice.

Harry's eyes bugged out.

"What?!" he spluttered. "When did I change species?!"

Snape shrugged.

"I thought it might need a change."

"Well, maybe. But a kitten?! Kitten?! " Harry wailed unhappily. "Why that one? I'm not cute! I'd rather be a puppy... Although, come to think of it, I don't really know which is worse!"

"When you figure it out, give me a meow." A black eye winked.

Lily laughed. Slipping out of Harry's arms, she sat up.

"I'm not a kitten," Harry growled. He threw back the covers and stood. "I'm not cute at all."

"Of course not." Snape nodded sagely. "I am filled with sheer terror whenever I look at you."

Lily laughed again, watching as Harry mumbled sourly all the way to the bathroom. He washed, changed, and returned to his room. Snape was sitting on the bed with Lily, just finishing her second braid.

"A puppy," Harry announced firmly. "That's as much as I can tolerate."

"He doesn't hiss," Lily remarked thoughtfully. She looked up at Snape. "And his whiskers don't twitch."

"Of course they don’t. He doesn't have any."

"And he can do the puppy dog eyes very nicely. And he growls, too!"

"True... Oh, how he growls ," Snape said in a silky voice.

"Leave me alone." Harry laughed.

Snape finished the braid with a bow, and Lily rolled over on her knees to face him before kissing him softly on both cheeks. Jumping off the bed and onto the floor, she smoothed the hem of her white dress with magic.

Snape rose from the bed and walked over to Harry, one of his hands sliding down his back in a wonderfully obvious gesture, bringing him closer to his black-clad chest.

"All right then. I'll try again, and better," Snape said quietly. "Good morning, Harry."

Harry smiled broadly as he pulled himself up on his tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

"Good morning, Severus."

It earned him a twinkle from those black eyes and a fleeting kiss in return. A damn sweet reward.

"May I take it that I am still allowed to call you puppy?" Snape whispered somewhere near Harry's ear.

"Yeah," Harry muttered hoarsely, his voice, as always, sending a tingle to his loins. "Damn Lestrange. I'd miss puppy."

"Thank you," Snape murmured as he kissed Harry’s cheek. "Me too."

In the next room, the fireplace roared as someone came in through the Floo Network. Snape paused, as if listening.

"Albus," he announced. Then his expression changed. "And Black. Obviously. I knew this was strangely too much happiness in the morning," he muttered.

Lily disappeared with a sigh.

"What do they want?" Harry asked. "To have breakfast with us?"

Snape gave him a sceptical look, let him go, and started for the door. Harry followed close behind.

The headmaster and Sirius were waiting in the sitting room, their expressions more than serious.

"Good morning, sir. Hi, Sirius."

"Good morning, boys," said the headmaster, motioning to the chairs. "Please sit down."

Harry listened in confusion. Snape didn't.

"I'll stand," he assured the headmaster dryly. "What’s happened?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Sirius remarked. He settled into the other armchair across from Harry, his gaze fixed upon him. What? Harry frowned. But he was silent, waiting.

"I went to breakfast in the Great Hall," Sirius started. "Peeves has decorated our corridor with a few sliding spots on the floor, as usual. I successfully avoided two of them, though the third one eluded me. And just as I slipped on it and crashed to the ground, Avada flew over my head."

"Avada?!" Harry was startled. "Are you okay? Is everything all right?!"

"I am." Sirius nodded. "Which reminds me, I should thank Peeves."

"Are you sure?" Snape asked pointedly.

"I checked." Dumbledore nodded.

"Avada at Hogwarts... That's bad," Snape said seriously. "Have you informed the others? And the Aurors?"

"No," Sirius uttered, curling his gaze towards him. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"Why?" said Harry uncomprehendingly, his eyes flitting between them. Somehow, the headmaster didn't look good without his perpetual smile. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly, Snape squared his shoulders, smoothing his face into a nihilistic mask.

"Of course," he said. "I understand."

"Excellent," said Sirius. He leaned back in his chair, swinging his leg over his foot. "So, where were you about half an hour ago?"

Harry figured it out, his chin dropping in shock.

"With me!" he yelled. "We just woke up."

"I said about half an hour ago. Not now.“

"That's when I woke up," Snape said frostily. "And if it had really been me, Black, I wouldn't have missed."

"Yes, of course." Sirius nodded calmly. "Now let's hear how you wouldn't do anything so stupid because there are so many other, more subtle ways... But that's the problem, Severus. No one would suspect you of such an attack, yet you’re the first person I thought of. And you're also the only one. Not that you'd have any reason to do so... would you? "

"That's bullshit," Harry breathed out angrily. The others ignored him.

"You are ridiculous. And pathetic," Snape assured Sirius icily. "But if it makes you happy..." Summoning his wand from his sleeve, he held it out to the headmaster.

"Thank you." Dumbledore nodded as if he had expected nothing else.

Is he serious?! Harry couldn't believe his eyes. The headmaster, meanwhile, placed Snape's wand on the table, waving his own above it.

"Prior Incantato."

The names of the incantations appeared in the air above the wand, flickering and disappearing, then replaced by others. Purus Lavare, Lacarnum Inflamare, Accio, Accio, Lumos Locatio, Avada Kedavra, Nox, Scourgify...

Silence. Total, absolute silence.

"Well." Sirius slapped his thighs, standing up. "I'm glad you saw that. I'd just like to point out that we still don't know who bewitched the golden snitch or how Dolohov knew Harry had started living here so soon. And how the hell he could have gotten here in the first place! And those minor confusions about the magitrap..." He glanced at Dumbledore. "I don't care what you’ll do about it. Nothing, I suppose." He looked at Harry. "And that's the kind of person you love?"

Sirius walked over to the fireplace, threw in the Floo powder, and disappeared into the flames.  

The room lapsed into silence.

Harry stared.

"I have no explanation," Snape said blankly.

"Someone's been here," said Harry. "Someone must have come and taken your wand."

"My security spells are unbroken," Snape said almost absently. "No strangers have entered."

Harry looked up at him sharply. "It wasn't you! If you had left, I'd have known it!"

"I leave you often. You never wake up."

"Damn... I'm trying to help!"

"We won't solve anything by fooling ourselves with absurdities."

"Then think of something yourself!"

Snape slowly turned his face towards him. "Only. I. Don't. Know."

"What did you do this morning? After waking up." The headmaster finally spoke up.

"I woke up in Harry's room. I turned on the light, got my clothes on, got some wood for the fireplace, and made a fire. I went to shower. Then I woke Harry up."

"Good." Dumbledore nodded. "Do you remember the last spells you used last night?"

"Lights out, naturally," Snape said. His voice lacked any hint of the usual sarcasm. In fact, it lacked everything. "I cleaned the bedside table; Harry had spilled pumpkin juice. There'd be stains left..."

"May I come to you?" Dumbledore asked firmly.

"Yes," Snape said quietly.

Harry watched as the two men became immobile, the headmaster entering Snape's Hall of Consciousness. They'd figure something out; Severus couldn't have done that. He would never hurt me like that.

And somewhere, all the way in the back of his skull, fear had grown cold. Are you really sure? I am, Harry shouted angrily.

The men moved. Snape walked over to a vacant chair and sat down heavily, staring blankly ahead.

"So? What did you find?!" Harry couldn't stand it anymore.

"Nothing," said Dumbledore mildly. "We have found nothing."

"That's a lie," Snape uttered, "and you know it. The glitch means someone has altered my memory."

"Not necessarily," objected Dumbledore. "It is too gentle."

"You mean, like I did it myself?" Snape asked sharply. "Because that's exactly what it looks like!"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore repeated.

"This is stupid!" Harry exploded. "You didn't fix your memory, and you absolutely did not try to kill Sirius!"

Snape remained silent. He didn't look at him.

Harry turned to the headmaster. "So what now? What do we do?"

"I think that's obvious," Snape spoke up. "You will return to the tower later today. You are not safe here."

"What?! Forget it!" Harry yelled.

Snape locked eyes with him.

"You're not safe with me," he said between his teeth. "I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Obviously," Harry growled. "So I'll wait until you've calmed down again."

"I'm perfectly calm."

"Just because your wand sent an Avada, it doesn't mean it was the same one that almost hit Sirius!"

"Harry's right," said the headmaster.

"I know that too," Snape said, rubbing his face wearily. He stayed that way for a moment. "Harry? Please go have breakfast in the Great Hall and then go to practice. The headmaster and I will go over my memories thoroughly."

Harry didn't want to leave. He wished to stay.

"All right," he finally agreed, reluctantly. "But whatever you find out, I'm not leaving. Is that clear?"

He got up from his chair, walked over to him, and squatted down. He took his hands in his—strong, cold, and so, so gentle...

"I'm not leaving," he whispered.

He wanted to hug him. He wanted to kiss him. But Dumbledore was there, and Harry wasn't sure Snape would appreciate it.

"I'm not leaving," he repeated. And with a heavy heart, he got up and left.

"Great training." Ron punched him in the shoulder, amused.

"Yeah, right." Harry nodded as he snapped out of his thoughts. He looked around in amazement, not even noticing that the other players had already left. Training was obviously over. He hadn't noticed that either.

Fortunately, no one seemed to mind his indisposition, and Ron seemed content.

"Coming?" He turned to him, cheerfully tossing his broom over his shoulder.

"I think I'll take a walk," Harry muttered. "I'm always locked inside, so..."

He was desperate to get home. But at the same time, he was scared.

The walk will be fine.

"I'm starving, so I'm out." Ron grinned, heading for the castle entrance.

Harry sent the broom to the cloakroom. Flying when one is absent in spirit is not the best idea. With a warming spell protecting him from the November cold, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped slowly forward. He wandered through the Hogwarts gardens, thinking.

How could someone take Snape's wand and cast Avada with it, without him noticing? Was such a thing even possible?

It must be, he nodded to himself resolutely. Because that's exactly what happened.

But who would do that? Who would want to kill Sirius? Who at Hogwarts hated him enough to...?

Wrong question, he hissed to himself. Because the only one who had come to mind was Snape. Harry shook his head, pushing the thought away.

Let's try a different approach; it wasn't about Sirius. But what else then? Destroying Snape? To divide us? Yes, definitely. That's the point. Who wants that ?

...Sirius?

But how could he steal a wand? Well, he is a Marauder, the inner voice chirped mockingly. Maybe it's not as impossible as it looks... Damn it.

No, Sirius wouldn't do that either! Accusing someone of attempted murder is way more serious than the boyish theft of a hangover cure potion from the cabinet. Sirius hates him, yes. But he wouldn't go that far, surely...

Harry resolutely shook his head again, realising that he had wandered to the boundaries of the property. He turned then and continued along them. The dried, partially frozen leaves crunched under his soles as Harry walked slowly, barely missing a step. The rustling grew louder with more footsteps and, suddenly, there was a  black cloak at Harry's side, the Hogwarts shields between them erupting in full force.

"Shall we take a walk?" Voldemort asked.

Harry’s wand, almost as if by itself, slipped into his hand, his magic like a fine ribbon wrapping around his arm.

"I don't think so," Harry grunted.

He stared into red eyes, panic tearing at his lungs. Rage and hatred boiled in his arteries, and he couldn't move. The barrier between them blazed, almost visible, assaulting Voldemort's Protego in tiny bursts and glowing a sharp gold around him. He didn't seem to notice.

"Isn't it strange that you and I have never actually spoken?" Voldemort said. He shook his bare skull, as if chuckling at himself, then glanced at Harry. "We should fix that."

Harry remained silent; he couldn't have made a sound through his tight throat, anyway. He clutched his wand convulsively, madly chasing the memories away and not remembering.

"Never mind, then. I'll do the talking, shall I?. But first…" Voldemort leaned forward slightly, Protego's temper flaring wildly, "close the Occlumency Gate. This is for your ears only, Harry Potter."

How does he know, Harry hissed in his mind. How the hell does he know that?!

Voldemort let out a sharp sigh, Harry's heart jerking out of its reins.

"I can't come to you. See?" The shields were burning, the Protego on fire. "You're safe. Close the Gate."

"Cast Protego. Don't turn your back on him. Back off now. We're coming!" Snape's voice pierced through his consciousness, sharp with panic.

Harry automatically obeyed. Partly. He conjured up the Perpetuum Protego and kept his eyes on Voldemort. But he didn't back down. Not one step.

Never again.

"Very well..." stretched Voldemort. "Leave it open. I suspect we're running out of time. Are they coming for you yet? There's a lot I want to tell you." He paused, took two thoughtful steps, then returned to Harry again. Seeming to collect his thoughts, he continued, "For so many years, the wizarding world has looked up to myself and Albus as opposites of the powerful; the symbols of black and white magic, full of expectations of which will prevail. But no one, in their blindness, can see anymore that the one truly important figure in this battle is not Albus or I. Nor even you, Harry Potter. Do you have any idea who it might be? No? ...Severus. Yes, him. It’s him. Severus, who has kept the scales balanced for years, with his subtle intrigues and elaborate plans. And now you take Albus's place, and Severus... Red pupils flew to Harry. "I'm tired. I'd like this eternal struggle to finally end. To be decided. Do you think Severus would die for you? ...And you're right. On the other hand, I know he would do the same for me."

"Harry, he's lying!" a terrified whisper reached Harry.

"Albus and I both knew his equivocal nature, but neither of us could put an end to it. There's something about Severus that is... irresistible. He can be very persuasive. Am I right, Harry Potter? Oh yes, I know I am. You've fallen under his spell, too. ...And we're back where we started. The fight between us will never end as long as Severus, like a master puppeteer, keeps pulling our strings. Do what Albus and I have failed to do…" The look of fiery pupils, and a fiery Protego, "and get rid of him. Let's face each other. Let's sort out whose side is right and which magic will rule. Or," a deathly-pale hand, with fingers like claws, slipped like a snake from a long black sleeve and reached out to the shields; The Protego went mad in a blinding glare, "join me. You already know that even black magic has its charms. And its truth. Don't you know that? There's nothing wrong at all with sweet Lily. I don't want you dead, Harry Potter. Don't you wish to fulfil Severus' deepest desire? Join me — and keep Severus. If you can manage to do that..."

"Don't listen to him. He's lying, Harry. Please!"

"You don't seem to believe me. I'll admit, I was kind of counting on it." Voldemort nodded condescendingly. "You have earned my respect, Harry Potter. That's why I'm going to offer you what I wouldn't give anyone else. I will accept Veritaserum, and you may ask me three questions."

A vial of potion flew from his coat pocket, landing in his bony palm.

"You think I'm going to believe that?!" Harry growled. But the idea... He waved an empty hand behind him, summoning Snape's Veritaserum from the castle. "Take this. Then maybe I'll believe it." He tried for a contemptuous tone but dread twisted the words with hatred.

"What a pity it's the shields' fault..."

Harry didn't allow him to finish; he threw the vial. It passed through the barrier without resistance, falling into the grass with a slight thud. Voldemort didn't even blink. In fact, Harry wasn't sure he had eyelids.

Voldemort made the flask in his hand disappear, then, holding out his palm, summoned Harry's vial obediently into it. Bony fingers removed the cap, and three drops dripped onto a bluish-white index finger. Voldemort popped it into his mouth, licking it slowly and carefully.

"Ask away, Harry Potter," he whispered.

"Are you sure you don't want me dead?" Harry fired.

Voldemort's face twitched. And the lipless mouth parted in an indulgent smile. Terrible.

"No. And, yes," he answered meekly. "My feelings are very conflicted on that topic."

"When and where are you planning your next attack?!"

Voldemort's eyelids were closed now, his expression haughty.

"In Halkirk, tomorrow after midnight. ...I hope it's clear to you that I'm calling off the attack? Ask about Severus."

But Harry already had another question in mind.

"How many Horcruxes do you have left?!"

Rage! Red eyes blazing like a supernova explosion, Harry stepped back helplessly. The memories...!

"Two," Voldemort hissed. "Ask about Severus!"

"I don't have to," Harry grunted, trying desperately for a firm tone, but the red inferno was like pain, excruciating pain, "I know everything I need to."

"We're almost there. Hang on," Snape breathed. It sounded almost pleading.

And Harry remembered.

"Who is your new Potion Master?!"

The inhuman face had levelled off, as even the fire had gone out.

"I don't have a new one," he said quietly.

"I know you have! Who brewed the Evitera that Lestrange tried to give me yesterday!"

Voldemort's expression reached a kind of perverse bliss, as he said very carefully.

"Severus Snape."

"He's lying!"

"You're lying!" Harry hissed. "That's not true! Why would he do that?!"

"My dear, dear, late Bella... Did you know she died yesterday? I confess, you made me a little angry. But, then again, she and Lucius were the only ones Severus and I initiated into our ongoing alliance. It was her idea. She came to him... and Severus, in his infinite wisdom, perfected the plan as soon as he revealed it to me. There was no Muggle blood inside, Harry Potter. Just mine. “

"No," Harry whispered.

"Just as he affected all the other plans. Did you really think Lucius would just let you get away? You never thought about who led Dolohov through the Hogwarts shields? And that ridiculous Quidditch game of yours with the snitch... all Severus. He's been by my side all this time. He was so eager to gain your trust, to make you listen to him so that he could show you the full potential of amazing black magic. It was he who wanted our alliance. Yes, it was his idea, to find you and raise you. He told me that the very first day he brought me the prophecy..."

"No!" Harry hissed. He stepped back. Not from Voldemort, but from the power of his words. He needed to dodge their murderous weight, to avoid that killing blow. Red eyes burned passionately. Don't look, Harry. You'll burn, Harry. Burn to ashes...

"Why the surprise? You already knew. I found it in your memories on that night we spent together at Newgrange. Well, yes, it was our dear Severus who started this war between us, Harry Potter. He was at the birth of it. I told you... Severus has been directing all our steps for years."

The blades of grass had long since straightened in relief, as if he had never been standing there, and the Hoghwarts shields had fallen into a peaceful slumber. Yet, Harry was still staring.

Incapable of words. Thoughts. Unable to breathe.

Footsteps came thumping across the ground. Harry turned in slow-motion, as if in a dream, to see the grounds bustling with life, the entire faculty and senior students rushing towards him, their wands in hand.

Only one wasn't moving. In the black eyes he saw an abysmal horror.

...You're not gonna say anything?

From the tree above him, a dead leaf was torn off by the wind, spiralling in circles. Harry closed the Occlumency Gate as the leaf danced to the ground, where it lay on the frozen earth, slowly beginning to thaw. 

"He knows."

"Yes."

" He knows ."

Severus stepped back, Albus' fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere else. Away," Severus breathed.

"I won't let you do that."

"He knows."

"Yes. And that's the end of it. We'll end this today, once and for all, and you will go to your chambers and there you will accept Harry's punishment, whatever it may be. And then, then, Severus — you will begin to live again."

"No," Severus whispered. "No. I can't."

Albus shook his head sadly.

"I'm not giving you a choice."

Harry levitated the trunk to the fireplace and summoned a broom from the hallway.

"Harry, please. Speak," Dumbledore said again with quiet urgency.

"I'm listening," said Harry. He looked to the corner of the room. Snape had been standing there the whole time, without a word, and without the slightest movement. He wasn't looking at Harry. No. He was staring blankly somewhere else, his face rigidly empty.

Big and black. Strange... he didn't look as big as he always had.

But black, yes, he still was. More black than ever.

Harry turned away. "Apparently, sir, he has nothing to say to me."

He threw in the Floo powder, sending his stuff to Gryffindor tower. But that wasn't all. No, it wasn't. There was still the most important thing.

Harry reached out, his shadow magic capturing Lily's essence gem for him and  obediently slipping it into his palm. There came a sound from the corner of the room, a rasping hiss. A quick glance—no, Snape stood as mute as before. Perhaps he was petrified.

It was Dumbledore who said it.

"Harry please... don't do this."

Harry hung the locket around his neck, hiding it under the fabric of his clothes. He shrugged.

"He killed her," he said simply.

Done, all done. All said. Finished. Harry grabbed a fistful of Floo powder.

"Harry, I'm begging you. Don't go. Talk to Severus. Give him a chance to explain... This isn't fair of you. How many chances have you given Sirius?"

Harry looked back at the headmaster.

"Sirius was innocent."

He threw in the Floo powder and entered the flames. He wished to burn down in them.

Severus stared blankly into space. He grabbed the bookcase shelf and, with its help, remained on his feet. Oxygen forced its way into his lungs. It was just somehow... poisonous.

"Severus," Albus whispered, reaching for him.

"It’s all right," he hissed, stopping him with a stern gesture. "We wanted him to leave. He's not safe with me."

Summoning a bottle and glass, Severus let go of the shelf, turning and leaning back against it. He poured to the brim, the golden liquid swirling wildly inside the glass walls, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He raised the glass to his lips, tilted his head, and filled his mouth with it, wincing as it scorched his throat. It didn’t burn down to the heart.

"Go after him," he said, his voice rough thanks to the burning alcohol. Yes, surely that was the reason. "Go. Don't let him be alone right now."

"Severus, I won't let you..."

"Go away.“

Quiet. Then almost inaudible footsteps followed by the roar of flames. And the apartment was suddenly as empty as the man in it.

...Fear.

Severus squeezed his eyelids and gritted his teeth. So this is how it is.

To reach the end of everything.

"You knew," Harry said. He let the condemnation ring out in his voice.

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded firmly, "I knew. All these years."

They stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady, a discreet barrier around them.

"You forgave him."

"In my eyes, he did not commit the murder of your parents, so I had nothing to forgive him for. ...I'm going to ask you one last thing today, Harry. Please realise that this is just another one of Voldemort’s attacks..."

"And I get it. I get it perfectly clearly. He wants to weaken me, to break me by saying Severus betrayed me; of course I understand," Harry growled. "And I won't let him. He will never hurt me again." He turned to the portrait and added, before stepping inside, "I won't let anyone do it again."

He returned to the common room, took his seat, and opened his textbook.

"Harry," Ron said weakly, "are you really okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He flipped through the last of the material covered in class.

"What happened out there? With you-know-who..."

"We talked."

"Talked?!" Ron bellowed, a couple of Gryffindors in earshot jumping at the sound. "About what, by Merlin?!"

"About how he wants to kill me and stuff. Nothing new."

Harry settled himself a little more comfortably and started to read.

"But... Why did you come back? I'm really happy, it's just..."

"I missed you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to learn."

And then he just put up a discreet wall, cutting himself off from the noise of the room so he could finally immerse himself in the printed letters. With fanatical concentration, he learned all the life stages of the rabid hornet, the social stratification of their nest, their natural enemies...

Forget. Don’t think. Forget. Kill Voldemort.

Forget it all.

Dinner was brought to him. By the time he put down the last textbook, he was alone in the room, and the clock read a little after midnight. Harry put his books away and prepared his bag for the following day. Quietly summoning clean clothes from the boys' dormitory – everyone else was asleep – Harry went into the bathroom. He secured the door with a spell, raised a sound-absorbing barrier, and waved his wand.

"Este vivanti."

Lily appeared a few steps in front of him, delicate and beautiful, fragile as a snow flower.

And something horrible bit into Harry's insides.

"Lily," he rasped. He knelt down slowly, taking her hands in his. "Lily..."

The little girl looked around in confusion. "Harry? Where are we?"

"It's okay, Lily. You're with me. It's okay. Everything is okay."

Fear silently entered her green eyes.

"Where's Severus, Harry?"

"Lily," he squeezed her small hands tighter; they were so terribly small. "Lily, he... he killed you."

Her eyes widened. She shook her head until her pigtails danced down her back.

"No, Harry. Look, I'm fine. He didn't do anything to me. He would never...!"

"Lily, he betrayed us. You, me, my father... You died because of him. Do you understand? We could have lived together, all our lives. You would never have died, and I wouldn't have been an orphan... We could have been together!"

"We are together," she burst out, glancing around the tiled walls again. "Harry... I want Severus," she whispered. Her chin quivered.

"Lily, you're not listening to me! You are dead because of him!"

And Lily snatched her hands from his. He watched as she dug her fingers into her fluffy skirt, clutching it in her fists. Tiny. Tight. Lost.

"I want Severus..."

"No!" Harry hissed. "He killed you! He betrayed you. He betrayed me!"

A sob escaped her throat and echoed back. Lily held her face stubbornly, but her lips trembled, her eyes filling with tears.

"I want Severus."

Harry backed away, paralyzed. Somehow he was running out of air.

"I want Severus."

By then, she was crying, her muffled sobs circling the room from wall to wall.

"Este dormenti!"

Gone. The last drop fell, and the cup was full. Black rage flooded the horizon.

Harry broke through the Occlumency gate, then. You took away my home for the second time...

"I hate you!" he shouted. "I hate you! I hate you!"

Severus hypnotised his bedroom door. Plain oak wood, the same as ever. Only today, there was an empty wall behind it. When he entered and saw it, Lily would truly be gone.

For the second time.

Forever.

He never wanted to go in there again.

So he lifted himself up sharply, until he stumbled against the edge of the table, the empty bottle wobbling alarmingly. So did the room.

Left, right, grab the walls, reach the bedroom door. He pushed the handle and crossed the threshold. The empty frame killed him.

Somewhere in that moment, he felt the opening of the gate. Severus reached for him fiercely, pleading.

Come back to me, Harry.

"I hate you!"

There was nothing to hold on to.

Severus fell to his knees, fingers in his hair, clenched in a fist. Iskariot kept screaming.

Agony feasted deliciously, devouring him in pieces, washing it all down with mercury; here she stabbed a piece of the heart, there sliced a part of the mind, gnawing on the bones.

Even the Dark Lord had never been so cruel. He’d always left him the slightest reason to want to survive.

Suddenly, hands came out of nowhere, and Albus clutched him tightly in his arms. He flooded the Hall of Consciousness with light and walled off the monolith.

Helping him to the bed, Severus let himself be guided without resistance. Alcohol, Albus's Peacemency, and the indifferent acceptance of the futility of it all had consumed his strength. It didn't even matter anymore.

Albus laid him down, covering him with a blanket. As if he could stop the deadly chill that was necrotically coursing through Severus’ veins.

"Harry loves you very much," Albus whispered gently.

"Harry hates me."

"Harry's angry," Albus argued. "That's natural. That's the risk of basing a relationship on a lie..."

"What lie?!" Severus exploded desperately. Who knows where the passion in him had come from? "I never lied to him! I even told him that I had a secret that would tear us apart. He was the one who demanded that I never reveal it. I haven’t lied to him, not since Tara..."

The passion has died now, and desolate despair has taken over again.

"No?" Albus said mildly. "Then I'm sure Harry will find out soon enough."

Severus let the eyelids drop. There was nothing left to look at anyway.

"He won't come back," he said blankly.

"Yes, that's possible." Albus nodded. "After all, you did nothing to make him stay."

"I couldn't speak," Severus muttered, exhaustion stealing his voice and breath. "I couldn't..."

"I understand that. What a kindness of fate, that even tomorrow is a day."

There was quiet then, broken only by the ticking of the clock.

"...Albus? You think I'm sleepwalking?"

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I think you're drunk," he remarked lightly.

"I'm talking about Black. Maybe I went to kill him in my sleep... and that's why I don't remember."

"We would have found that in your subconscious memories."

"True..."

"Sleep now, Severus. Get some rest. I looked, you don't have a hangover potion, and something tells me you'll need it tomorrow. I'll go to Poppy, get it and come right back to you."

"You're worrying yourself unnecessarily," Severus muttered, sleep and relieved unconsciousness pulling him hungrily down into the depths, "I have no intention of waking up."

Morning, indifferent to prayers, came.

Albus woke him up. Of course he did. Lily was gone. He had made him drink several potions, yet Severus hadn't looked to see which ones.

"Get a grip on yourself, my boy." Albus spoke with considerate quietness. "Think about what you want to say to Harry. And then go say it."

...talking to him.

I have no idea...!

Albus had left, breakfast in the Great Hall having apparently already begun. Severus remained sitting on the edge of his bed, empty hands in his lap.

The potions had worked as they should, the dull malaise evaporating from his mind, and the residue of alcohol disappearing. The world was so sharp again, you could cut yourself on it.

Hungry pain curled in his arms, sticky against his skin. Severus' conscience gratefully accepted it; we still have so much in common, Harry...

We both hate the same person.

Severus got up, made the bed, and patted the empty frame on his way to the bathroom; good morning, Lily. He showered before changing into clean clothes. He used the comb that he knew would never taste the softness of her russet hair again. Meanwhile, the foggy haze had cleared from the bathroom, the mirror offering him a mocking look at his worn face. Severus remained staring at his reflection for a moment.

Then he turned to the door and walked out.

He was done with the man in the mirror for good.

Severus swept his gaze over the classroom, the students standing silently at their desks, the doors closed.

"He's not here, Albus, Harry hasn't come, you have to..."

"He's fine, don't worry," Albus' voice interrupted him. "He's just come to tell me that he won't be attending your classes," he added gently.

Severus froze.

The mocking little voice inside him was in awe at his reaction. That was surely to be expected, so why the surprise, Severus?

Don't you know how absolute the end can be?

"Mr. Malfoy, take over the lesson," Severus barked, taking three long strides into the fireplace.

The sight of Harry's averted face caused three seismic waves: Love. Despair. Death.

By the time Potter had glanced back at the sound and then abruptly jumped out of his chair, his hands balled into fists, Severus' face was deadly empty once again.

Potter gave him the first furiously hateful look. The second to Albus.

"Can we talk?" Severus asked.

"I was under the impression you didn't want to talk to me," Potter said.

"I apologise for my reaction yesterday." Severus nodded. "Would you be willing to talk today?"

"I'm not sure I want to."

"I understand that."

"Really?!" Potter hissed. "Well, that's a relief."

"I'll be brief," Severus said quietly. "I know the Dark Lord accepted the Veritaserum before you. Please, please, will you at least consider the possibility that he erased it before he swallowed? Knowing him, Mr. Potter, he would never willingly put himself in such a disadvantageous situation, for any reason..."

"Yeah, I figured that out too," Potter interrupted sharply. "So now you're probably going to say he lied about everything?"

His eyes bore into Severus, icy green.

Isn't it ironic that it was you who taught him to be angry, the little voice said amusedly. He's doing great. Are you proud of yourself?

Severus suppressed the urge to look away.

"No," he said quietly. "He didn’t lie about everything."

And Potter's rage exploded into those eyes in full force. Why did I ever think red pupils were the most frightening...?

"Harry, I'm sorry..."

"Pity is the hypocritical entertainment of the degenerate social elite — isn’t that what you said?!" Potter hissed, his face wrinkled with fury. "Or perhaps you feel that your pity will make a difference! That it's going to erase the sixteen fucking years I could have lived in a completely different way!"

"No," Severus grunted, "I don't think so."

...Good. Yes, that's right. Just make it hurt; make it hurt beyond endurance. May I go mad knowing how badly I've hurt you.

That's the right thing.

"I'm glad," Potter nodded slowly. And somehow — definitively. "Why did he say I already knew about it? And I want the truth."

Severus stood so straight, his shoulders began to cramp. Oh, the subtle, deadly details of betrayal.

"Because you knew about it," he said desolately. "You figured it out during your conversation with Professor Trelawney, moments before you and the headmaster left to find the Horcrux."

"Funny. I don't remember that."

"I removed it," Severus said, his voice failing. He cleared his throat. "That memory. I removed it."

His green was as acid, etching its way through existence.

"And besides it?" Potter asked frostily.

"Nothing else. Just the one. ...I swear."

"I admit I'm having a little trouble trusting you right now."

"I didn't brew that Evitera. I didn't curse the snitch. I didn't participate in any of the attacks you've had to face in the last few weeks. And it is not, and never was, my goal to seduce you into an alliance with the Dark Lord," Severus whispered with harsh urgency. At least you have to believe that! he pleaded. "I did not betray you."

Potter stared at the ground for a moment, then nodded stiffly.

"I'm willing to see that as an option," he said.

"Thank you," Severus breathed. This earned him another silent attack of rage. Still, he couldn't stop himself from saying the most important thing he'd come for. "And no matter all the harm I've done you, I'm still here for you whenever you need me, Harry. The dungeons are still your home, and you'll always be..."

"Don't call me Harry!" Potter howled savagely, taking several sharp steps as if to lunge at Severus, his face changed beyond recognition. But he was stuck in place, probably by force of will, bent forward in that sudden movement, his locket slipping out of his unbuttoned robes. Lily, God, Lily. In the next second, Severus almost lost his mind at how desperate the desire was. She was here, within reach. So close. At least give her back!

He had to close his eyes. Otherwise, he wouldn't have held on.

When Potter didn't add more, Severus lifted his eyelids. The young man was already standing at the door.

"I almost forgot." He turned abruptly back to the room, his hand still on the doorknob, his glare focused on Albus. "I actually came to tell you that, as a member of the Order, I insist on attending all the meetings. And rescues, of course. I've stood aside long enough... I'm not going to hide anymore."

He's gone.

The worst part of the moment was that Severus felt relieved.

"Severus, you should ask him," Albus finally spoke, his voice soothingly quiet. "I trust Harry will let you see Lily."

"No," Severus said. He strode back to the fireplace.

"Then I'll ask him..."

"You will not. I won't let you do that." He turned to him sharply. "Swear you won't force him to attend my classes, Albus. I'll find another way for him to continue potions. And swear – swear to me – that you won't do anything about Lily! ...I refuse to deprive him of the last of what he has left."