COMING HOME

By Meri

Harry woke with a start. He listened carefully, wondering what had pulled him out of a rare sound sleep. Something wasn't right.

Silently, he extracted himself from his lover's arms. She moaned softly, her hand sliding across the bed, but her breathing didn't change. With a sigh of relief, he eased out of bed and reached for his dressing gown.

When she did sleep, My-Le's sleep was as troubled as his was, her nightmares rivaling his own. A Muggle, half American and half Vietnamese, she had lived through gruesome times as well.

A sound made him turn.

A snowy owl was framed in the window, backlit by the pale gray of dawn. For one second, he thought: Hedwig! Then reality interposed itself disappointingly. No, Hedwig was long dead, along with too many others that he'd loved.

Taking a deep breath to ease the knot in his chest, Harry signaled toward the kitchen window, two more down. Thankfully, the owl understood him. But then, wizarding owls were bred for intelligence.

His hands trembled slightly as he opened the window. While communicating by owl was not unheard of in the States, it was significantly less common than in England. His wizarding colleagues would normally fire call him or use one of the modified mobile phones they all carried here.

"What do you have for me, fella?" He unwrapped the message and looked around for a treat for the owl. He settled on some nuts and a dish of water.

He drew his wand and resized the message. The parchment envelope displayed Hogwarts's seal. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?"

Despite everything he knew about the magical world, he'd always wondered how an owl could cross the Atlantic. Just magic, he supposed.

He held the envelope in his hands and turned it over several times. Should he open it? In the ten years since he'd left England, he'd had no contact with anyone from home. His choice, he knew. There were times when he missed England and the friends he'd had at school with an ache that could not be appeased, but he'd always countered that with the memory of what he'd done and how much time had passed.

"I don't suppose you know what this is about?" Harry looked hopefully at the owl.

With a shake of its head, the owl seemed to convey that that it did not.

Harry gathered his courage and tore open the note. He read it and then read it again. The words didn't change:

Mr. Potter,

The headmaster is dying. He wishes to see you. If you are inclined to grant that wish, do make an attempt to come to Hogwarts in the near future. There is little time left.

Severus Snape

He sat down heavily, letting the note fall to the table, his head dropping into his hands. God, he'd have to go back.

"Harry?" My-Le's soft voice startled him. "What's that bird doing here?"

"Uh…" Absolutely nothing came to mind. He hated to lie to her, but he'd made the decision early on not to tell her about the magical world. For one thing, he wasn't sure she'd believe him without more proof than he was willing to give. For another, if she did believe him, it would upset her world view. She'd had enough of that in her life already.

My-Le pushed the hair out of her face. She reached for the coffee pot and started to fill it. "Never mind. I don't want to know. What's that?" She then pointed to the parchment on the table. "Or don't I want to know that, either?"

"It's a letter from a former Professor. He writes that my old Headmaster is dying." Harry's voice cracked.  Even if he hadn't seen Dumbledore in years, he couldn't imagine a world without him in it.

"So, you must finally return home," she said quietly. For all that they had been together for four years, by mutual and unspoken agreement, they hadn't talked much about their pasts.

"Yes."

"Your internship?" She was a professor from his time at university, though he'd never taken her classes, and she worried about his schooling.

"I'll need to get in touch with the Chief Resident and see what we can work out." She was a decent witch, and had been very supportive of Harry during his tenure with her department. He sincerely hoped she would continue to be understanding.

"I'm sure it will be fine." My-Le held up the coffee pot. "Do you want coffee?"

Setting her mug on the table, she turned to face him fully. Though her shoulder-length hair was still mussed from sleep, something hard and impassive reflected in her face. "This is an interesting twist of fate. You must return to England and face your past, and I must also face mine. I shall be traveling back to Vietnam as part of the university delegation."

"How long will you be gone?" He kept his tone flat, betraying none of the grief he felt at her leaving.

My-Le put a hand on his arm. "Harry, you know I care deeply for you--"

"That sounds like a kiss-off." He set his mug down. It wasn't as if he didn't expect this.

"It is reality. You are so young--"

Harry held up his hand. "No. Don't tell me that. I'm as old as you in experience." He would have said older, but she'd grown up on the streets of Saigon before her father found her as a teenager. Even then, her life in the States had not been easy.

"I don't doubt that." She sighed, her black hair falling into her face. Her delicate features were spoiled by a hawk nose, a genetic gift from her American father. "I hear your nightmares as you hear mine." She looked up and met his eyes unflinchingly. "However, I cannot continue to do this."

"So, after four years, it's just 'so long, Harry'?" He winced inwardly. Making a scene was repellent to him, and would not change the outcome of their conversation.

My-Le pulled her dressing gown tighter around her thin body. "We have never made any promises."

"I know. I'd hoped you want to stay," Harry said quietly, coolly, starting to pull back into himself.

She stepped up to him and kissed him softly. "There is a part of me that wishes I could stay with you. But you have your whole life ahead of you. You must return to your own world."

Something in the way she said that made him look at her. Knowledge that shouldn't have been there shone in her eyes. "Oh God. You know?"

"I know nothing. I do not wish to see. Look around your flat. You have left yourself too exposed." My-Le waved a hand around the room.

He glanced into the living room, and then back at her. "I don't understand."

"In my world, the pictures do not move." She pointed to the picture of his parents at Yule one year after they left school, James whirling Lily around forever in circles.

He'd had that photo since he'd first attended Hogwarts. In truth, he'd never thought to put it away. "It took you four years to mention that?"

With bright eyes, she took his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm. "I shall miss you, Harry Potter."

*****

Part 1

Harry pushed open the great wooden doors of Hogwarts. As they swung silently open, he remembered the first time he had passed through them, the hope he'd had for a better future, his excitement as a new world opened up for him, the joy of making new friends. Passing through the doorway now, he remembered his fears as a madman stalked him, the brutality of a war he could do nothing to stop, the grief and regret for the friends lost to him.

With a shake of his head, Harry dismissed his maudlin thoughts. Now was not the time for such things. He stepped over the threshold, seeing it as both the adult he was now and the child he'd been then. How was it possible that he had changed so much, but this place not at all?

The Great Hall was silent, the students all gone home for the summer. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the floor.

"Harry Potter," a familiar voice said. "It's good to see you back again."

Harry whirled around to see Professor McGonagall coming towards him, a smile lighting her face. She hadn't changed much. Her bearing ramrod straight, her gaze still as direct as it had ever been. "It's good to be back, Professor."

"Oh, do call me Minerva, dear boy. I'm long past being your teacher." She continued to smile, but Harry saw how tired she looked.

He tried to return her smile. "Thank you, Minerva. How are you? How is he?"

"I am fine." Surprisingly, her eyes filled, and she looked away. "Albus continues to grow weaker. It won't be long now."

For a second, Harry closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. "Is there nothing that can be done? With all the magic in the wizarding world surely someone could do something."

"It's his choice, dear. We --" She cut herself off and looked down.

"Why now? What happened to make him decide?" Shaken, Harry choked on the words.

She shook her head, her eyes sad, but resigned as she met his through the square lenses of her glasses. "He's old, Harry. Tired. He is ready to let go of this world."

It went against everything Harry believed in. "But --"

"But nothing," she said, her tone sharper, reproving even. "When a wizard reaches Albus' age, it's his choice, not ours."

Harry knew she was right. "What shall we do without him?"

"Well, young man, you've certainly done just fine, haven't you?" Her smile took the sting out of her words.

"He helped me." Feeling young and silly as only an admonishing teacher could make him feel, Harry stared at his shoes. "If it hadn't been for him, I can't imagine what would have become of me." Harry looked up, hoping his face wasn't showing every emotion he was feeling. "Can I see him?"

"He's asleep right now. Perhaps after supper."

Disappointed, Harry lifted his pack. "All right. I'll find a place to stay in Hogsmeade. Does Rosmerta still own The Three Broomsticks?"

"She does. However, you won't have need of her hospitality. You'll stay here. We certainly have the room." McGonagall snapped her fingers twice.

Dobby appeared and caught sight of Harry, his watery eyes widening. "It is Harry Potter. Dobby is so glad to see Harry Potter again. Is Harry Potter well, sir?"

"I'm fine, Dobby. It's good to see you again." He grinned down at the elf. That was another thing they didn't have in the States. Magical creatures could not be bound to anyone or anything.

"Is you liking the United States of America?" Dobby asked, solicitously. His gaze fixed on Harry's face.

Harry grinned. "I am. You might like it there, too. All the House Elves are paid wages there."

"Dobby is paid wages here," Dobby said, puffing out his bony chest.

"That's true." This wasn't the time to explain minimum wage or working conditions. It would be lost on Dobby.

"Dobby will stay here." He looked up at McGonagall, clearly waiting for instructions.

McGonagall smiled at Dobby. "Would you see that rooms are made ready for Mr Potter?"

Dobby turned to Harry. "Dobby is doing it myself. Dobby is glad to see you back, Harry Potter. You is to stay with us now?"

"Yes. Thank you. And thank you, Minerva."

"Come back down after you've settled in. There are several others staying at the moment. Not to mention all of the teachers."

"Do I know any of them?"

"You might be surprised." Her tone mysterious as if she had a secret, she held out her hand for him to precede her out of the hall.

*****

An hour later, Harry headed back to the Great Hall. A bit on edge, he wasn't sure what to expect, nor what would be expected of him.

"Harry?" a familiar voice called. "Is that really you?"

He closed his eyes and took several breaths before he was calm enough to face her. "Hermione," Harry whispered.

The physical distance between them was only five feet, but it was nothing compared to the ten years without contact that actually separated them. Harry looked at her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly. With her arms crossed over her chest and a deep frown on her face, she looked less than welcoming. Having her look at him that way felt like a knife in his guts, even as he acknowledged her right to it.

Hermione hadn't changed at all and yet she looked nothing like she had when he'd seen her last. Her billowing robes hid her shape, but she glowed with good heath. Her wild hair had been tamed into a chignon at the nape of her neck, though several uncontrolled tendrils danced around her face.

The silence between them was broken abruptly by the sound of running footsteps. A young boy with striking red hair came to stand beside her, his face flushed, panting slightly. "Mum, dad said that I can stay over with Daniel tonight, if you say it's okay."

Harry's eyes stung. It couldn't be. Ron had died in his arms. But the boy, perhaps nine years old, was Ron's image.

"Mum?" the boy asked, his voice now carrying a note of worry. He glanced at Harry. "Mum, why is he crying?"

"You look just like your father," Harry choked out, wiping away the tears that he hadn't known he'd shed. That he could talk at all, frankly amazed him. In his mind's eye, he saw Ron Weasley writhing on the floor in agony as he was tortured by Voldemort.

Surprisingly, the boy shook his head, giving him a puzzled look. "No. I don't look anything like my dad."

"He means your biological father," Hermione explained, biting her bottom lip, and not looking at Harry. "And yes, you may go tonight. Have Mrs. Brandle owl me, all right?"

"Yes. Thanks." The boy started to turn away and then looked back, studying him, a bewildered look on his face. "Do I know you?"

"This is my friend from school, Harry Potter." She said it mildly, as if it were still true. Harry hoped it was with all his heart.

"Really!" The boy peered closely at him. "Are you really Harry Potter? We studied you in school. That is so brill. I can't wait to tell Daniel that I met Harry Potter--"

"Ronny!" Hermione's tone rang with a familiar note of censure.

Clearly, Ronny recognized it, too. He blushed and scuffed his feet on the floor. "Aw, Mum."

"Go on now." She shooed him away and Ronny ran off, laughing.

"How?" Harry gasped.

"I think that is fairly evident." Hermione sounded faintly exasperated. Exactly the same as she used to when he or Ron had asked a stupid question. "I was pregnant with him when Ron died."

"Did Ron know?" Not that it would have mattered one way or another. Ron would still have tried to rescue him and still have died and Harry and everyone else would still be mourning him.

"No. I didn't know either. I only suspected it when school ended and you left." She didn't look at him, a poignant expression on her face.

"God, I'm sorry." And he was. That he'd had to leave, that Ron had died, that she had been left alone. Harry's chest felt like there was a steel band around it, and every moment that he talked to Hermione the band tightened more, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Don't be. Ronny's a wonderful boy."

"He said he didn't look like his father," Harry remembered, and glanced at her left hand. She was wearing a plain white gold band, and a large emerald surrounded by diamonds.

She twisted the rings, nervously. "I married before he was born."

How could she go from Ron to someone else so easily? Harry forced his anger away. He hadn't been in her shoes. Seventeen, unmarried and pregnant was not an uncomplicated place to be, even for someone as brilliant as Hermione.

"Who?" He promised himself no matter who it was, he'd accept it. Not that it would matter anyway; Hermione had gone on with her own life and his acceptance didn't matter anymore.

"Me," yet another eerily familiar voice said.

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He turned and watched Draco Malfoy's long legs eat up the distance between the door and where he stood with Hermione.

Malfoy had been fine looking in school, in an icy blond kind of way. Now, with hair as long as his father's had been, and an erect bearing and cool gray eyes, he was magnificent -- certainly one of the most stunning men Harry had ever seen. Harry hated him on sight, with every bit as much fervor as he had when he'd been in school.

He glanced at Hermione and she looked nervous.

As well she should be. Despite how much he might want to, he couldn't explode with rage, but this would be near unto impossible to accept.

"Ronny said--" Malfoy cut himself off as he came abreast of them.

"How?" Harry kept his tone cold and impartial, despite how he felt. It was remotely possible that Malfoy could have changed.

"The usual way," Malfoy said, as scathingly arrogant as Harry remembered. "We had a huge wedding. Too bad you weren't there. I'm sure Hermione would have invited you, had she known where to send the invitation, that is." He looked at her and his whole expression changed to fond indulgence. "Merlin knows, she invited everyone else either of us ever knew."

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs affectionately as she turned and raised her face to his. "Wasn't that the point?"

"Indeed it was, my dear." Malfoy leaned down to kiss her briefly, but tenderly. He put one hand on her belly, molding it through her robes. Harry could see now that she was pregnant. "Are you feeling well?" Malfoy asked, his concern and care unmistakable.

All Harry could do was stare, stunned by the display. He could not reconcile it with anything he knew about Malfoy. "How did you --"

"End up married to a traitorous Malfoy?" Malfoy paused long enough to sneer. "Of course, it's possible that I put her under Imperius."

 Hermione put her hand on Malfoy's arm. "Draco. Let me explain, please."

Malfoy opened his mouth, looked down at her and then shut it again. He executed a perfect courtly bow. "As you please, my dear. I'll be in our rooms." Without another word or look at Harry, he walked away.

Looking back at her for a cue, Harry waited silently. Under no circumstances could he conceive of a reason she might have married Draco Malfoy.

"Come on. Let's sit, okay?" She nodded towards the Great Hall.

The situation was almost more than Harry could take in at one time. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together, following Hermione silently to the bench she indicated.

"I hadn't actually meant for you to find out like that," Hermione said, looking as if she might be trying to make light of what she had to say.

"How did it happen?" Harry worked hard to keep his voice even, pleasant. He wanted to rave at her; how she could have possibly married Draco Bloody Malfoy? How could she have betrayed Ron so thoroughly?

"I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count." Her tone wasn't quite bitter, but there was no pleasure in it either.

Harry didn't need the other two guesses. "Dumbledore. That meddlesome old bastard. Why would he want that? I mean, what purpose would it serve?"

"It would be a sign of unity between the Muggle born and the purebloods. To show the world we wanted to learn to live together in peace. Draco and I became the symbols for Dumbledore's new wizarding world." The words sounded well practiced, and no doubt, Hermione had said them many times through the years. Though whether or not she actually believed them was another story.

"That's outrageous. Why did he agree? More importantly, why did you?" Harry tamped down his temper, hoping to understand.

"I think you already know why I agreed. It was my best hope for a future." Hermione suddenly seem to find the wood grain of the bench they were sitting on quite fascinating.

"Wouldn't the Weasleys have taken you in and helped you?" Harry could not imagine Molly Weasley turning anyone away, especially not the woman carrying her grandchild.
 
"They would have, but I wouldn't have been able to continue my education. I would have had to go to work."

"Didn't you anyway? I mean, to care for your son." He couldn't believe she'd leave her child to be reared by house elves. Surely Malfoy would have nothing to do with Ron Weasley's son.

"I cared for him, yes. But I could also take classes and study while I did so."

"What about Malfoy? Last I had heard, he was a Death Eater."

"As it turns out, he wasn't. He convinced Voldemort that he would be more useful unmarked since he was still in school. He'd approached Dumbledore and ended up working with Severus -- Professor Snape -- as a spy." Her tone said she had absolutely no doubt about the accuracy of her information.

"You believed that?" No matter what Hermione said, he was having a difficult time believing anything good about Draco Malfoy.

"Yes." Her expression was unequivocal. But she married him. What else would she say?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry tried again to bury his anger. He had no right to vent it. "Why did he agree?"

"Because he'd lost his lover, just as I had, and well… it seemed like a good idea at the time." She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"It seems like you've made a go of it." He nodded towards her belly.

"This is recent." She blushed.

"About four, maybe five months, or so, I'm thinking." The truth was he didn't want to think about it at all.

Her eyes narrowed and an odd expression flittered across her face. "That's a very good guess. How exactly did you make it?"

"I uh… went to medical school. I'm a doctor." It was all he could do not to mumble it. That annoyed him even more. He was damned proud of what he'd accomplished.

"A Muggle doctor?" Could she look any more surprised?

Harry straightened his shoulders and met her eyes. "Not exactly a Muggle doctor, but not exactly a Wizard healer either. Or more accurately, I'm both."

"I'm speechless. Aside from everything else, I didn't think you were that interested in anything academic."

"Standing next to you, the best student at Hogwarts in five generations, my academics were overlooked. Not that I minded, I had enough expectations to live up to then." He smiled at her to show he truly hadn't minded. "I passed my NEWTs well enough to be accepted into university there."

"You mean Muggle university?"
 
"Yes. There's a huge wizarding community in New York, but I might as well have been a Muggle for the first few years I was at university."

"Where did you go to school?"

"New York University," Harry said. "I needed something to concentrate on and that worked well. I graduated summa cum laude."

Hermione grinned at that. "Well done. How on earth did you manage? Not the grades, but moving from Hogwarts back to the Muggle world."

"It was easier than you think. Dumbledore gave me the name of someone in New York and she helped me enroll in university and find a place to live."

Looking as if she were still trying to comprehend the idea, Hermione shook her head. "Wow. You're a doctor. What is your specialty?"

"A combination of Muggle psychiatry and mind healing. I can channel despair," Harry said, proudly. "I pull the despair from the person in tiny bits, and replace it with healing energies from the earth, then wash the despair through a magical filter and feed it back into the earth."

"I didn't think that was possible. The amount of power that would take…" she trailed off and looked at him. "You're that powerful?"

"Yes."

"That is amazing. I want to hear about all of it." Hermione glanced at the clock. "But it's almost time for supper and I need to go to my quarters before then."

"Okay. But I do want to hear more about you and Malfoy. And Ronny, too." Something the boy said came back to him. "Does Ronny consider Draco his father? That's why he said he looks nothing like his father."

She nodded. "From the moment Ronny was born, Draco was enchanted. His lover, Pansy Parkinson, had been also been pregnant when she was killed. He was devastated. Draco considers Ronny his son and made him his heir."

"How could Malfoy do that when he's obviously Ron Weasley's child?" Harry still reeled from the idea that Malfoy was Ronny's father in more than just name.

"Wizarding Law says if you're married when the child is born and the father acknowledges the child as his, then he or she is their child. There's never been any question."

"What about Arthur and Molly?"

"They see Ronny and I think it helps with the loss."

Harry conceded that perhaps Malfoy wasn't as huge a prat as he'd been in school, especially if he were kind to Molly and Arthur. "I'll wager this has Lucius is rolling in his grave."

"No more so than my being Draco's wife would have done." Hermione snorted, clearly amused by the idea. "None of his surviving relatives were pleased."

Harry supposed that was an understatement. "I reckon not. You look happy."

"Very much so. Draco and I became friends long before we were ever lovers." She patted her belly.

"But you were married…"

"That didn't mean we slept together. Not right away, anyway. I had a new baby, remember. Maybe we weren't enemies when we married, but we weren't friends either."

"Don't you have to consummate your vows or something? I'm sorry--" His face heated with mortification. He could not believe he'd actually asked that.

Instead of smacking him for the comment, Hermione just laughed. "Don't be. But really, that only happens in Muggle romance novels. Wizards consummate their vows with magic."

There was a noise at the end of the hall and McGonagall and several other teachers came in. Harry stood to greet them.

*****

After dinner, McGonagall stopped him before he could leave the hall. "Albus should be awake now, if you'd care to visit with him."

"Thank you. I'd like that very much." He smiled at her, nervously wondering what he'd find.

She led him up the stairs, and they deposited him in the Headmaster's office. There was a second set of stairs that led up to another study and then beyond that into Dumbledore's quarters. Lying on a huge bed, wearing a purple nightshirt with white and pink stars and moons on it, was Albus Dumbledore.

Harry had to bite back a gasp at his first sight of Dumbledore. He looked frail and withered, as if all the life had been sucked out of him. When it came to someone he cared about, Harry could never find his objectivity.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quietly, sitting down in a chair by the bed. His chest tightened uncomfortably as he took Dumbledore's hand and held it. The skin was so dry and fragile it looked translucent. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Not too bad, my boy. It's very good to see you." Dumbledore's once robust voice was now a hoarse whisper, but there was still a twinkle in his eyes. Perhaps a bit dimmer than it had been, but Harry was heartened to see it still there.

"And you, sir. Though I wish it were under other circumstances. I wish I'd come home sooner."

Dumbledore's smile faded. "I don't think you were ready to come home, even now. I'm sorry Severus wrote you. It wasn't time yet."

Harry swallowed hard. "It was past time, sir. I should have come home long ago. At least for a visit."

"If it were time, you would have. I did not want you to be forced back here, especially to see me."

"I'm glad I came. I saw Hermione. And Ronny." Harry's heart caught at the thought of the boy. Despite what Hermione had said, they hadn't been at supper.

"Yes. I'm certain that was a shock, wasn't it?" Dumbledore chuckled dryly, a touch of warmth in his tone.

"I'm glad that something of Ron survived, though I do wonder what he would have said to Draco Malfoy rearing his son." Some part of Harry wanted to shout at Dumbledore for arranging it, but it was too late for that, as it was for many things.

As if he could tell what Harry was thinking, Dumbledore looked away. "If Ron were here to comment, there would be nothing to comment upon."

"Very true." That did not make Harry feel any better about the situation.

For a time they sat in strained silence.

When it became untenable, Harry cleared his throat. "Thank you for giving me Shalimar's name. Without her I'm not sure I would have had any idea at all about how to proceed."

"I'm glad she was helpful. And that you've done so well. She's updated me on your progress over the years. Did you find what you were looking for?" Care and concern shone from Dumbledore's eyes.

It warmed Harry's heart. "I did. I believed, at first, I could ignore my magic. But I couldn't keep away from it. Eventually, I knew I had to find a way to channel it into something good and useful."

Although he controlled his magic now, and not the other way around, Harry was never quite comfortable with the enormity of it. He shifted in his chair, feeling it surge over and through him. Always there, ready, waiting for him to slip.

"Channeling despair is one of the best and most productive things you could have done. I'm very proud of you, Harry. Very proud."

Closing his eyes, Harry breathed out heavily. Those words meant the world to him. "Thank you. When I left, I was so afraid I'd be corrupted by it. I didn't know how I could live with the sheer intensity."

"You have a phenomenal amount of power. It was fortuitous that you also had strength of character and courage."

"Let's not talk about my power. The truth is, I try not to think about it." Harry sat back, forcing his hands to unclench.

"I'm sure it's difficult to live with." Dumbledore looked at him, understanding in his eyes. "Tell me of your studies, and your time in New York."

Harry nodded, telling him several funny stories of his undergraduate years. "When I was finishing up my sophomore year," he paused and looked to see if Dumbledore was still following him. "I'd decided to major in biochemistry -- which thanks to Professor Snape, I did quite well in --"

"You should tell him that. I think it would amuse him."

During his last year at Hogwarts, he and Snape had worked together long enough to have developed a fair tolerance for each other. Over the years, Harry had occasionally thought about Snape with respect and a vague fondness. "If he didn't kill me for it."

"Severus wouldn't do that," Dumbledore admonished, his eyes twinkling brightly for a moment.

"Tell me he hasn't changed. I'll bet he's still terrifying his potions students. Still as irascible as he ever was." Harry was amused by the image of Snape with his black robes flaring, stalking down the corridors.

"I think you might be surprised." Something in the way Dumbledore said it tripped alarms in Harry's head.

"I didn't see him at dinner," Harry said carefully, not wanting to pry, but unable to let the topic drop completely either.

"I expect not. So, tell me more of your studies."

The hint was less than subtle, and Harry decided he could let his curiosity ride for the moment. Snape was around the school and he'd see him sooner or later. "I wanted to go to medical school and study psychiatry. By that time, I was using magic again."

"It's hard to give up once you've tasted it."

That was an understatement. Harry shivered. "I'd started to venture into magical New York more often. I even went to see Shalimar again. She told me about a Muggle/Wizard hospital run mostly by squibs that had a combined Magical/Muggle program for psychiatry. I was thrilled. Because it was an actual accredited Muggle program -- though most of the people in it were associated with the magical community in some way, I became a Muggle doctor as well as a healer. I've almost finished my internship."

Before Dumbledore could ask anything else, a knock on the door sounded and Madam Pomfrey came in.

"Well, well, well. Harry Potter. It's good to see you, lad. How have you been?" She smiled at him.

Harry was pleased to see that she hadn't changed at all. "Quite well, Madam Pomfrey--"

"Oh, do call me Poppy. We're nearly colleagues after all."

"Yes, I suppose we are." Harry's face heated with pleasure.

"You knew that our Harry was a healer?"

She gave Dumbledore an admonishing look. "Of course. You're not the only one who follows what's going on in the greater wizarding world. I think it's time for you to go to sleep."

For a moment, Dumbledore's expression was that of a mutinous child, and then he sighed. "I expect you're right." He looked at Harry. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here for a few days. I…I want to catch up with everyone," he said, surprised at how unsettled he still felt.

"Can you take this to Severus for me?" Dumbledore glanced over at his bedside table and picked up a bit of folded parchment.

Bewildered by the request, Harry nonetheless nodded and took the envelope. "Sure. I'd be happy to."'

"His password is perseverantia."

Persevere. That seemed appropriate for Snape.

"He sometimes doesn't hear when you knock," Dumbledore mumbled at his questioning look.

Doesn't hear or doesn't answer? Just what was wrong with Snape?

Pomfrey glanced at Dumbledore with an odd expression. "I'll see you at breakfast, then Harry," she said, clearly not wishing to discuss it now.

More confused than ever, Harry closed the door behind him.

*****

Part 2

Severus Snape stared into the empty hearth. There was so much he was supposed to be doing, so much that needed to be done. The part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought screamed at him to get up and stop acting like a child. To do something of value, anything. He wanted to. He really did.

With a deep breath, he told himself he'd get up in a moment.

The clock on the mantle ticked.

A minute passed. And then another. And then another.

And so he passed his day.

When his stomach rumbled, he vaguely realized he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. It was too much effort to go down to the Great Hall. And really, what would be the point?

At least the children were gone. They wouldn't be looking at him as if he were mad. So what if he hadn't taken house points from anyone for a whole term? It wasn't a requirement of his job.

The door chimed. For a brief second, he honestly thought about getting up to answer it, but frankly, it would be too much bother. There was no one who needed him now. Albus….

His heart twisted. Albus needed him least of all.

A sound in the doorway made him look up. For one second, the heaviness lifted and he appreciated the sight of the good looking man who had just broken into his rooms. Dear Merlin, that was Harry Potter.

"You never did have any manners, did you?" Snape asked, pleased with the growl in his voice. If he didn't sound as angry as he should have been, at least he didn't sound pathetic, either.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Potter said, very politely, almost diffident.

"Then why did you?" Snape would have turned away, found something else to look at, but his rooms held little fascination and Potter held quite a bit. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm a busy man?"

"I can see that, yes." Potter's tone was just this side of amused and his eyes sparkled for a moment before fading. He held out a parchment. "The headmaster asked me to deliver this to you."

"So, you're now a delivery boy? What does it say?"

Potter shrugged. "I haven't opened it."

"Just leave it there. I'll get to it." Snape waved a hand at the desk where two months' worth of post lay in a heap.

"If the headmaster sent me down with it, don't you think it might be important?"

"I don't care what it is. Just put it with the rest. And then leave." Snape looked away, scowling. Why did Potter care if he read his mail? What was it to him?

"I'm sorry --"

"Don't apologize. Go away. Just go." Snape raised his eyes. Merlin, how he hated to see compassion on Potter's face. How far he had sunk to have Potter looking at him in such a way. Snape was mortified.

Silence stretched between them as Potter stubbornly didn't leave, his look becoming more concerned. "I know it hurts, but I can help you," Potter said quietly into the breach.

"No one can help me, boy. I'm damned to all seven hells and worse and we both know it." Snape looked back at the fireplace, hoping to close Potter out. The numbness in his chest grew worse, and he breathed out slowly and then back in. Slow and steady. He concentrated on that.

"I can help you to deal with --"

He didn't need Potter to finish that statement. He didn't want help dealing with anything. He was doing fine on his own. "I know he's going to die. We are all going to die at some point. There is nothing I can do about it, or that you can do about it. You can't help me."

"I can. As bad as I know you feel now, I swear I can make you feel better. If you let me," Potter insisted, sounding so sincere and sure of himself. That was more like the Potter he remembered.

Snape didn't have the energy to fight. Perhaps the boy would Obliviate him. "Fine. Do as you please. Just be quick about it."

With another worried look, Potter stepped forward.

And then Potter was too close. It made Snape uneasy. He was hyper-aware of the aftershave Potter wore, the scent of his skin beneath it, the heat of his body. A shudder that Snape couldn't control ran through him, but he could not look away.

"This works better if you tell me what has hurt you." Potter's fingers gently touched his hair.

Snape wanted to pull away from Potter's touch. His hair was filthy. It hadn't been washed in a week, probably closer to two. How could Potter stand it?

Looking back at Potter, Snape could see he was waiting for a response. What was the question? He shrugged and hoped it was enough.

"Close your eyes." Potter gently caressed Snape's scalp with his fingertips.

He didn't feel anything at first, just Potter's hand touching him and the soft murmur of Latin words. After another moment, a curious feeling washed through him. It seemed to pulse inside, to fade out slightly and return. Snape wasn't sure how much time passed as Potter did whatever it was he was doing, but it seemed that the pulsing went through him three distinct times.

When Potter finally stopped, Snape felt different. Better. Some of the awful black melancholy that had dogged his life had been removed, and what was left in its place was indefinable, but it eased his soul ever so slightly. Enough so that he could breathe freely for the first time in what seemed like a year.

Beyond words, Snape opened his eyes and tried to still his body's shaking.

Potter was smiling at him.

"What in Merlin's name did you just do?" Snape asked, his voice hoarse with shock.

"I bled off some of your despair." Potter had no pride or hubris in his tone. He said it as if it were an everyday occurrence.

"That isn't possible," Snape whispered, his voice still wobbly. "You can't just bleed off despair. It has to go somewhere."

Potter removed his hand from Snape's hair and sighed. "I exchange it for earth energies."

"You could rule the world with that kind of power." Snape could taste fear rising in his throat.

Without a blush, Potter looked right at him and nodded. "Perhaps I could. At least until someone stronger came along and killed me. I'd rather live."

Impressed with the quietly spoken words despite himself, Snape chuckled. "So, instead of ruling the world, you'll save it. Again. Typical Gryffindor."

This time, Potter laughed. "God, it's been so long since anyone has brought up school houses."

"That doesn't make it any less true. Don't they use school houses in the States?” Snape glanced up.

"Honestly, I don't know. I went to university there, not secondary school." Potter's fingers found their way into his hair again, sliding through the greasy strands.

Snape thought about pulling away, but decided not to. If Potter didn't mind the state of his hair, then he didn't mind the touch. Indeed, it had been years since anyone had touched him. "You learned to channel despair at university?"

"Medical school."

That was a surprise on so many levels. "You're a healer? I have to admit that would not have been my first guess at a career that might interest you."

"It seemed the only career possible to me. I'm a Muggle doctor as well." There was the pride he'd expected from Potter.

"I do feel better."

"It could be temporary. Unless you talk about it and accept it -- whatever is bothering you -- then your despair can return."

"Is this your field of study, then?" Under other circumstances, Snape might have enjoyed discussing this.

"Yes. Think about what I've said, sir. You need to work through what's wrong."

"You're not suggesting I talk to you, are you?" Snape would never be comfortable talking to anyone about so personal a matter.

Potter shook his head. "While I'm trained to listen, to help people, I doubt I could ever be objective where you're concerned. Especially given my own grief over Dumbledore."

That was only part of his problems. "Of course."

"Besides," Potter said, his voice low and edgy. "If I treated you, I couldn't do this…" With warm sure hands, Potter cupped his face, tilting it up and looking deep into his eyes.

Too shocked to move, Snape knew he could easily get lost in that gaze. There was no mistaking the desire or intent in Potter's eyes.

Potter bent down and brushed his dry, soft lips across Snape's. The invitation behind it was clear and tenderly issued. A second kiss followed.

The sweetness of the kiss nearly allowed Snape to ignore the greater implications. His rational mind, however, demanded to know why Potter was doing this. What possible reason could he have?

Revenge? Payback for some long ago slight? Unlikely, Snape decided. Potter could have simply left him bound in his despair, and walked away. To heal him simply to hurt him again made no sense. Even James Potter at his worse would not have been so cruel.

Was it possible that Potter had harbored an attraction for all these years? That seemed more unlikely than revenge.

Then what? Why would Potter do this? What did he want? Was there something he hoped to gain? Or was this the price of being healed?

Snape's thoughts spiraled on until a gentle hand on his cheek broke into his reverie. Potter pulled back and he looked up into Potter's face. The gaze returned was filled with tenderness and a measure of true desire.

He relaxed infinitesimally. Whatever this was, clearly it wasn't meant to hurt him. His body tightened in response. It had been so very long. With trembling hands, he reached out to Potter, accepting his offer. He wanted it, wanted Potter.

Potter leaned in for another, longer, deeper kiss. The sweetness thrilled Snape and he allowed himself to revel in it. His tongue slid out to trace along Potter's lips, and then moved inside as Potter opened his mouth. Snape's blood pounded in his veins, making its way down to where it would do the most good. He was pulled to his feet, and Potter gathered him close.

Closing his eyes, Snape gave himself over to the kiss, relishing the feel of Potter's body against his, the thrill of his hard arousal, the scent of his sweat, and the taste of his skin. Potter moaned softly and the sound like silk rubbed Snape's skin. He bit down gently on the juncture between Potter's shoulder and neck, and was rewarded with another soft sound.

Excitement grew with each caress, each kiss, each touch, until Snape was desperate for more. His hands went to the buttons on Potter's robe, but he looked up before starting to undo them. With a new lover, he never assumed, never took for granted that any right was given.

 Their eyes met, and Snape saw the knowledge there, of who they were, and what they could be to each other. Potter smiled at him, nodding, his own hands on Snape's robes. Snape took his time, unbuttoning each button as if he were unwrapping a gift at Yule. He kissed and caressed the bits of bared flesh, listening for each response, waiting for each moan, then waiting again for it to settle before he moved on.

After one article of Potter's clothing was removed, he waited and Potter removed an article of his, all very fairly. Potter had his own style of doing things, his own generosity, which he lavishly applied to Snape. It wasn't that often that Snape had a lover take so much time with him, and he appreciated it all the more for the lack.

With sighs and moans and soft laughter, they stripped off the last of their clothes, kissing as each item fell away. Into his bedroom, onto his bed, neither he nor Potter paused until they were stretched out, naked beside each other. Excitement tingled along his spine and down into his gut as Potter rolled on top of him, and Snape spread his legs to allow him to settle between them. He wasn't choosy about what they did, as long as the sweetness continued. Without understanding exactly why, Snape was certain he could trust Potter for that.

Lowering his head, Potter kissed him again, deeply, his tongue stroking into Snape's mouth, caressing. Snape met his tongue, sliding his against it, allowing it access, yielding to it. Delicious sensations rolled over him as Potter's mouth moved down to his neck, teeth worrying, but not enough to mark.

He gave way, settling further into the bed, allowing Potter to take control. Slowly, oh so very slowly, Potter kissed down the center of his chest, each movement of his mouth adding another drop of tension to the dam that was fast building inside of him. He knew it wouldn't be long before it burst and Snape would be awash in absolute pleasure.

Snape moaned softly, surprised and pleased to find such generosity. Potter's mouth moved lower, stroking into his navel, and Snape let out a very undignified giggle.

Potter looked up and smiled. "I never expected to hear that sound from you."

"Did you ever expect to create it?" Snape asked, smiling as well.

"No. I can honestly say that until now, it never even crossed my mind."

Too close to his earlier thoughts, Snape had to ask. "Then why?"

A slight flush covered Potter's face. "I need…I want…You know me," Potter finally said, his tone showing he wasn't quite sure.

Although Snape didn't understand what was driving Potter either, he wasn't going to refuse him, not now. Instead he leaned up and kissed him again.

Potter bent his head down and swiped his tongue along the lower edge of Snape's stomach. Breathing out sharply, Snape was no longer thinking about why this was happening. He was no longer thinking at all. As Potter moved even lower, all he could do was feel the sensations, flow with them, give himself over to them.

Disappointingly, Potter's mouth completely bypassed Snape's most urgent need, moving further down. Potter bent his head and touched his lips to the inside of Snape's knee.

Shuddering, sensations out of proportion for the slight caress, Snape moaned. Potter's marvelous tongue slid wetly along the inside of his thighs.

Snape could not believe how much time and effort Potter was putting into his pleasure. With determination and vigor, Potter licked and kissed and nipped up and down Snape's inner thighs and then up and over, deliberately missing what would bring him relief from this most delicious torture.

Whimpering, Snape canted his hips in supplication as Potter raised his head and looked at him, considering.

"Do you want it to end now?" Potter put a hand on Snape, moving it teasingly, not enough to do more than to arouse further. "I can make it end."

"Yes." Snape was desperate, and he knew that Potter knew it too. "No." He loved what Potter was doing to him and he wanted to revel in it for as long as he possibly could.

"Very decisive, Professor Snape." Potter actually smirked at him, his full lips red and wet from his ministrations. "Why don't you roll over?"

He didn't have to be asked twice. Snape rolled onto his belly and spread his legs. His hands clenched into the bedding, a shiver of anticipation racing through him. He wanted it, needed it, as he could remember needing few things in his life.

Potter pushed a pillow under his hips and Snape hissed as it brushed against his arousal.

"There's lubricant in the top drawer of the left bedside table." Snape tried to keep from pressing into the soft pillow.

"Thanks." Potter moved across the bed and retrieved the jar. "I'm not quite ready for it yet."

Disappointed, Snape looked back over his shoulder. "I am."

"Relax, Severus." Potter's voice was a low, rumbling purr, and it sent tendrils of desire into Snape's already overheated body.

The sensations of Potter's hands on his body were so arousing that he couldn't help himself, he canted his hips down into the pillow, looking for stimulation, for some kind of relief.

Potter's hands slowly caressed his back, moving down to his bum. It felt so marvelous that he couldn't help pressing back into it with a tiny sound of pleasure. When Potter's hands slid to Snape's shoulder blades, he held on for a moment and then moved to straddle Snape's back. Leaning down, Potter kissed along Snape's neck and he shuddered as the sensations slipped through him.

Potter moved down his back, licking and nipping at uneven intervals. Unable to hold back, Snape groaned with each kiss, grinding himself into the bedding. It wasn't enough to ease his suffering. All it did was add to his glorious agony.

With gentle fingers, Potter parted his arse cheeks and blew across the heated flesh. The feel of the cool air made him light headed with want, and Snape whimpered pitifully. Then, amazingly, Potter lowered his head and licked across the crease.

The most embarrassing whine filled the room and for a moment, Snape was not sure who had made it. As Potter's mouth returned for a second swipe, Snape was torn between mortification that he could sound so needy and desire for Potter do it again. After another pass, Snape didn't care anymore.

It wasn't the first time he'd been caressed this way, but he'd forgotten how wonderful, how amazing it was because certainly no one could survive such delicious, splendid torture. Snape sobbed out another moan, dignity gone, nothing left but the need and the want. Surrendering completely, he flew with it, each lick, each suck, each caress of Potter's supremely talented tongue stabbed at the heart of him. He pushed back, desperate for more, needing it, wanting it, having to have it to survive.

"Oh, Merlin, please. Please. Please," he begged as he had never begged before, ready to give Potter what ever he wanted in return for release. He didn't care what he sounded like. "I need--"

Potter's hands were soothing on his sides. "What do you need? I'll give you anything you want. Tell me."

"I want you. Now. Please." Snape moved his hips back, seeking more stimulation. Thankfully, he wasn't denied.

Potter's fingers were slick and gentle as they breached him for the first time, sliding in, slowly, carefully, making sure each step was pleasure filled before he went on.

The slow torture aroused Snape to another fever pitch and he was mindless with desire when Potter finally sank into him. Out of control, he groaned as the burn stretched across his lower back.

As Potter moved on him, a strange harmony sang a mellifluous song, as if a perfect chord resonated between them. Snape was too busy enjoying what Potter was doing to be more than peripherally aware of the hum echoing through him. As orgasm started to court him, his body moved in perfect sync with Potter's. Each stroke was bliss, pure ecstasy. The connection sang between him and Potter, crafted on a note of pure joy.

When the pleasure crested, Snape cried out; too intense, too beautiful to contain. He joined it willingly, joyfully, knowing it had changed him in some fundamental way.

Sometime later, probably much later judging from the stiffness of his joints and legs, Snape opened his eyes. Potter watched him intently, a small smug smile on his face.

Now that passion and despair had been lifted, Snape's questions resurfaced. The most important of which was, "Why?"

Potter blinked. "Why what?"

"Why me? Why now? Why do this? What do you want?" Snape could think of a lot of reasons, none of them in keeping with this new and improved Potter.

Potter's face flushed and he looked down. "I don't know. I promise you that when I came down here, I didn't have this…" he waved a hand between them, "in mind."

"What, exactly, did you have in mind, then?"

"Beyond delivering the note, I was only thinking of helping you. I…I suddenly knew that I wanted you. I hadn't before. Not before that second. Did you…I mean…when I was in school?" Potter raised his eyes, his meaning clear.

Appalled at the very thought, Snape shuddered and shook his head. "Certainly not. I would never -- not with a student."

"Maybe you wouldn't act on it…." Potter trailed off, his face red again. "But did you think…I don't know…something like that?"

Snape nearly choked on the implication. "No. Never. While I may not have detested you as intensely as I led you to believe, I did not like you."

Potter seemed to deflate. "Then why?"

"You tell me."

Silent for another moment, Potter seemed to consider. "I don't understand, but I do know I wanted to be with someone who knew me. Someone who wanted me for me."

Even damaged as he had been before Potter had done whatever he'd done, Snape could not believe he'd given himself away. He fixed Potter with a sharp look.

"I saw it in your eyes before you recognized me, and after. Are you saying it's not true?" Clearly self-conscious, Potter looked away.

Snape thought about lying, but couldn't summon the required energy. It was too late and he was too sated. He would find an appropriately nasty answer in the morning. "You are correct. You may stay the night, if you wish."

Potter laughed. "That's it? No more questions? No more arguments? No taking of house points?"

With a huge yawn and Snape snuggled down into the bedding. "Ten points from Gryffindor for…for not knowing when to shut-up and go to sleep."

"Yes sir." Potter slid an arm around him, pressing close and chuckling softly into his hair.

*****

Although no natural light shone into his dungeon rooms, Snape had a window charmed to mimic the outside. Dawn peeked through the drapes that were not quite closed.

As he became fully awake, Potter moved beside him. Time to face the day. And what had happened between them last night.

Last night. Snape sighed. Last night had been remarkable. Not only physically, but on an emotional level he couldn't quite comprehend. He felt better, more energetic than he had in months, perhaps even years. However, he still had the problem of dealing with what was beside him and that was enough to fill him with dread.

Before he could decide how to act, Potter slid on top of him.

"It's not morning yet. If it's not morning yet, this doesn't have to end," Potter said, a note of desperation in his voice.

If Potter didn't want to let go just yet, Snape wasn't going to argue, not while Potter perched over him, pressing down in oh so perfect a way. If there was something to figure out, he'd do it later. Now, now, he wanted whatever delights Potter had in store.

"It's definitely not morning yet," Snape agreed, sliding his hands along the contours of Potter's smooth, sleep-warmed back, enjoying the feel of soft skin and firm muscle.

As a teen, Potter had been thin to the point of gaunt, but as an adult, he'd filled out nicely, adding height and muscle until his body was lush and delicious. Snape savored the feel of it under his hands.

Potter's mouth came down onto his, his tongue sliding slowly between Snape's lips. With a deep moan, Snape opened to the invasion, welcoming it. Excitement sparked as Potter nipped down his neck and under his jaw, murmuring softly.

His hands in caught in Snape's hair, holding him, Potter kissed him over and over. Long, slow, languorous kisses that let desire slowly simmer between them. Potter seemed to be in no more of a hurry than he'd been last night and his descent down Snape's body was torturous.

Potter's teeth worried one nipple, then moved to the other as Snape arched into each touch, each spike of pleasure bitten into his flesh. He could not hold back the sounds of his bliss, letting Potter know in no uncertain terms that his ministrations were very much appreciated. Potter laughed, slowly licking his way down, his tongue making slow sweeps against Snape's already sensitized skin.

When Potter's mouth finally closed over him, Snape groaned, pressing up, trying not to thrust too hard. Aroused almost to bursting already, it didn't take long for his delight to peak, and Snape came, shouting with undignified joy.

Potter petted him, smoothing gentle fingers along his sweaty flanks and thighs. Still reeling, Snape leaned into each touch, greedily enjoying the affection.

"Severus? What's wrong?" Potter's hands stilled on his thighs and he shifted to look at him.

Snape said nothing, wanting to give in, to relax into Potter's touch, but doubt held him back.

Potter kissed him deeply, his tongue sliding into Snape's mouth, exploring gently, tenderly. Under Potter's caressing hands, and affectionate kisses, Snape finally calmed.

"Okay now?" Potter asked, his eyes meeting Snape's.

"Continue." Snape let himself sink into the bedding, opening himself up for whatever Potter might want.

Slick gentle fingers pressed into him, filling him, and unbelievably starting to arouse him again. Snape groaned, the pressure, the pleasure, all coalescing inside him. He yielded as Potter pushed into him again, the burn lasting a bit longer, but his body knew what it wanted, and responded to it.

Shockwaves jolted through him with every hit on his prostate. "Oh, Merlin. Oh, please."

Potter continued to move into him full force and Snape became so caught in the rhythm and the pleasure and the utterly perfect harmony between them that he was carried along with it, surrendering all to that moment of joy.

He opened his eyes to find Potter smiling down at him, a finger tracing across Snape's lips. Unable to resist the temptation, he nipped Potter's finger before leaning up to kiss him.

The sun was shining through the split in the drapes, casting a bright line across the wooden floor. "Undeniably morning," Snape said with a great deal of regret.

Potter nodded and slid off him; Snape's damp skin chilled quickly as Potter sat up. "Do you want me to go now?"

For a moment, everything in him rebelled against the idea. Practically, however, they had to stop, had to give into the inevitability of morning and the reality of the day. There was much Snape had to do and as odd as it seemed, he felt like he might actually get it done. With surprising reluctance, Snape forced himself to push the warm feelings and dangerous sentiment aside. He sat up and braced himself. "I'm not sure this should have happened at all."

Beside him, Potter stiffened. Hurt flashed across his face before it was blanked. "Of course not."

"Potter…Harry…I.…" His gut tightening, Snape had no idea what to say. "It was…."

"What? A mistake?" Potter's tone was raw.

"I'm not sure." He looked away, his cheeks starting to heat, appalled that he could still blush at his age. His discomfort usually took the form of anger, but a look at Potter's face once again forced him to honesty. "It was lovely."

"But out of context with who we are. Still, it meant something to me."

Snape was unable to dismiss what had happened as trivial. While he could not express the sentiment, it had meant something to him as well. "Do you wish to return tonight?"

"Yes…yes, I'd like that very much." Potter got out of bed and walked naked to the toilet.

Snape watched the play of muscles as he walked, admiring the smooth expanse of skin and long lines of Potter's body. When Potter returned, he dressed rapidly in last night's wrinkled clothes.

"I'll come by after dinner, if that's all right with you. I still need to speak to Hermione. I was rather surprised by…." He looked at Snape, his eyes full of both pain and hope.

"I'll wager you were." Snape looked back at him, seeing both the child he'd been and the adult he'd become. A disconcerting reminder of just who this was. "Much has changed in the years you've been away."

"So I'm beginning to understand. Everything has changed, hasn't it?" Potter walked to the door, then stopped and came back to the bed. Leaning down, he caught Snape's head in his hand and kissed him gently.

"Yes." Snape leaned into another kiss. Something about the perfect quality of Potter's mouth called for explorations.

With a last caress of his hand to Snape's hair, Potter stepped back. "Will I see you at breakfast?"

"I don't go to the Great Hall anymore, unless required." He was tempted this morning.

Potter looked as if he might reply, but instead simply nodded. "I'll see you later, then."

*****

As Harry made his way down the corridor towards his room, a door opened and an impeccably dressed Draco Malfoy stepped out.

Auror red suited him, Harry thought as they stared at each other.

"I'd say look what the cat dragged in," Malfoy said. His tone held no real malice. "But most of the cats of my acquaintance wouldn't deign to acknowledge you."

Harry knew what he looked like just then and, since there was no denying it, he shrugged, simply too tired to care. "Probably not."

Malfoy looked dissatisfied with that answer and folded his arms over his chest, regarding Harry for several seconds. "I do not wish to see my wife hurt by you," he said, coldly.

Harry met his gaze, something in the way Malfoy had said that worried him. "Is Hermione all right?"

"Physically, she's fine. However, seeing you has brought back a number of painful memories. I don't want her upset any more than she has been."

With a single nod, Harry acknowledged Malfoy's words. "I won't be here that long."

"Just long enough to stir everyone up and then run away again." Scorn dripped from Malfoy's tone.

Harry's patience began to fray. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Malfoy."

"No. That's absolutely true. You disappeared for ten years, telling no one where you were, and now you show up, expecting everyone to--"

Harry straightened and faced Malfoy. "I expect nothing, Malfoy. Nothing."

"You're quite right to expect nothing, you deserve nothing." Malfoy's jaw clenched. "You were her best friend. You should have been there for her."

Instead of attacking, as he wanted to do, Harry took a breath, and hated Malfoy all the more for being right. "I know. If I could have been, I would have. If I'd known…."

"Would you have come back?"

Harry tried to tamp down the emotions trying to erupt. "Not at first. I couldn't."

"Why not," Malfoy snapped.

"Because when Voldemort died, all of his power came to me." Harry heard Malfoy draw in a harsh breath.

"Bloody hell. You're joking, right?" Malfoy's tone had lost all of its civility, and hid none of his fear.

Harry clenched his hands. "Unfortunately not. Had I not left when I did, I believe I would have eventually taken Voldemort's place. And I don't think that would have helped anyone, especially not Hermione."

Malfoy took a shuddering breath, seeming to gather his dented control around him. "No. I expect you're right about that. Why didn't you take over if you could have?"

He knew the question should have infuriated him, but Harry could only laugh. "You know, I haven't thought about houses since I left here, but that was such a Slytherin question."

Surprisingly, Malfoy laughed too. "It was, wasn't it? So, why not?"

"I didn't want to end up like him, dead. I didn't want to spend my life looking over my shoulder."

Malfoy regarded him for another moment and then smiled. "Tell Hermione. I think she'll understand."

"How can you know that?"

There was a great deal of self-deprecating humor in Malfoy's eyes. "If I can see your point, and understand it, given how I feel about you, I think you have a good chance of convincing Hermione."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Harry said, appraising Malfoy again. There was nothing that would make him palatable to Harry. Nothing.

Malfoy just smirked at him. "I need to get to work."

"Auror?" Harry had recognized his Auror robes, but gave Malfoy a chance to tell him anyway.

"Head of my own division, as it happens." He sounded damned pleased with himself, too.

"That's quite an accomplishment. Well done."

Taking the complement as his due, Malfoy nodded at Harry, and stepped away.

Once Malfoy was out of sight, Harry entered his rooms and headed for the shower.

*****

After Potter had left, Snape climbed out of bed and headed to the bath. Today, there would be no sitting in front of his cold hearth. He'd do something for a change.

The thought of taking a meal in the Great Hall was still too daunting to consider, Snape decided as he soaped his skin, enjoying the feel of the hot water. Perhaps he might summon a house-elf with lunch.

Dressed, Snape settled into the comfortable chair at his desk, picking up his quill and red ink, and after a moment's hesitation, started grading the final exams. They were at least a week overdue, but he supposed with everything, Albus would….

No, Albus would not be doing anything. Most likely it would be McGonagall and she would not be so forgiving. Well, not after she dealt with her own grief.

He had just finished the last of the fourth year exams when his door wards chimed. Before he could rise, Draco entered, stopping dead at the sight of him.

A momentary flash of irritation went through Snape that Draco felt he had the right to enter his quarters without so much as a by your leave. With a sigh, he pushed back the annoyance. Draco had no idea that things had changed.

"You're out of bed," Draco stated the obvious with a pleased smile. He deposited the breakfast tray on Snape's desk.

"Aren't you the observant one? I'm dressed as well," Snape said, in a tart tone, enjoying the shocked look on Draco's face.

"You are. Well done." Draco's delighted smile changed into a suspicious frown. "Why? What's changed?"

"Nothing has changed," Snape prevaricated. He loved Draco dearly, but was not ready to tell him what happened last night. Indeed, Snape was having some trouble reconciling it within his own mind.

Draco looked unconvinced, but was smart enough not to press the issue. "What are you doing today?"

"I'm going to finish these exams, and hand in the grades. I suppose McGonagall is taking over." Just saying her name in that context shot sorrow through him, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

"Hermione believes that will happen." Something in his tone made Snape look at him. Draco seemed put out, clearly unhappy with something.

"What's wrong? Is Hermione having a problem? Does she need something?"

"She's fine. Don't worry." He slanted a look at Snape. "Why do you ask?"

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to over-step."

"Severus, nothing is wrong."

Several moments of silence ticked by with Snape just looking at him, waiting.

As he always did, Draco blinked first. "All right. If you must know, I'm annoyed about Potter being here."

"Are you? I'd have thought you'd have outgrown your dislike of him."

"Evidently not. Besides, he hasn't changed. Older to be sure, but no wiser. If he hurts her, I'm going to hurt him." Draco's harsh tone matched his words.

"I think you're wrong. Potter's changed a great deal. Beyond that, I'm quite sure he won't hurt anyone." Snape sounded more defensive than he'd have wished.

Draco's attention focused completely on Snape. "Do you? I hadn't even realized you've seen him."

"He came down here last night to deliver a note from Albus," Snape said, hoping nothing showed on his face.

Draco glanced towards his bedroom door, which stood open, the ruin of his bed quite visible. The shocked look on Draco's face made Snape want to laugh.

"Well, I did wonder why he looked so well shagged this morning. I just never imagined the reason." Draco's shock changed to concern. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Despite trying to control it, his cheeks heated with chagrin. "No. Nothing of the kind. Potter used his power to drain off some of my despair."

"He made you pay for it?"

Snape was shocked Draco would even suggest such a thing. "Don't be absurd. He offered and I accepted. Nothing more complicated than that."

"But the offer came after the fact, correct?"

"It does not matter when. There was no coercion, no force. I appreciate that you are worried for me. However, this truly isn't your concern." Snape said it firmly, meeting Draco's eyes.

For one moment, it seemed as if Draco might argue with him, but he stepped back and bowed slightly. "Of course. I'll leave you to your breakfast."

"Draco." Annoyed by the sudden coldness in his tone, Snape stood and glared at him. "Don't be a fool and don't deliberately misunderstand." Merlin, Snape hated this sort of thing, but he couldn't let him be hurt. "I…appreciate that you're--"

"Let it go, Severus. I know. I don't like the idea that another member of my family is involved with Potter."

"I'm not--" Snape stopped, and sighed. "Potter will not be here that long. Hermione is very wise and will take care."

"That's the problem. She won't take care, not where he is concerned. Potter is dangerous to her."

"I don't--"

"Severus, he's dangerous to you as well."

"Actually, I think he's been good for me." Snape waved a hand at the pile of graded papers.

"Perhaps that didn't have anything to do with him."

Wishful thinking on Draco's part and they both knew it.

"You may not like him, but whatever he did last night was well done. I do appreciate it and I won't belittle it. I'm seeing Albus this morning." He met Draco's eyes; the concern there warmed him.

"Are you sure you're up to that? You've only just started to feel better."

Snape squared his shoulders. "I think I must. Aside from sending the note to Potter, I've done nothing in more than a week."

Draco bowed again. "I must get to work. I am glad you're feeling better, truly."

Snape was relieved when he finally closed the door behind him. Draco tended to take over just a bit too fast for Snape's tastes. Still, he was everything his father wasn't and Snape, of all people, appreciated that.

*****

Part 3

At breakfast, Harry sat with several teachers and made small talk for half an hour. As soon as he could escape, he hurried off to see Dumbledore.

The sun shone bright through the long narrow windows of the room, creating a cheery atmosphere. Dumbledore was sitting up in bed, drinking tea. "Harry, my boy. Good morning."

"How are you feeling, sir?" Harry had to resist the urge to take Dumbledore's wrist to check his pulse or to run his wand over him.

Dumbledore smiled, smugly leaning back on several pillows. "I'm quite fine. I trust you had a pleasant evening."

Something about Dumbledore's tone made Harry suspicious. "What do you know about last night?"

"I felt a magical harmony last night. I hoped it might have been you and Severus." Dumbledore looked pleased with himself. Indeed, his eyes were positively twinkling.

"Did everyone feel it?" Harry shuddered, feeling exposed, as if he and Snape had been spied upon.

Seeing Harry's distress, Dumbledore's face lost its amusement and he shook his head. "Of course not. Some might recognize the power surge, but very few would recognize it for what it was."

"Is that why you sent me down there? Because you knew this would happen?" Harry had disliked being manipulated as a teenager, and he liked it less as an adult.

"I didn't know." Dumbledore stared at the trim on his duvet.

Harry could tell that Dumbledore wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling Harry everything, either. "All right. You didn't know, but you suspected."

"I didn't realize it would be so strong." Dumbledore slowly leaned over and set his cup of tea on the bedside table. For a second it rattled on the edge, as if it were going to fall.

"Do you need help with that, sir?" Harry steadied the cup.

"Thank you."

At the weary sound of Dumbledore's voice, Harry considering dropping the whole issue. But when he thought about Snape's confusion and his own, he knew he couldn't let it go, not yet.

As if he knew what Harry was thinking, Dumbledore waved a hand at him, and said, "Go on, Harry."

"I don't understand what happened. I'm not…promiscuous. I sincerely doubt that Sev…Professor Snape is either. I want to know what happened between us." Harry dug his fingers into the arm of his chair in an effort not to raise his voice.

"Your magic was in perfect harmony with his. Do you know how rare that is?" Dumbledore still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Perhaps it is what draws you to each other."

And perhaps there was more to it than what Dumbledore was saying. "You knew it, though. That he and I would fit together that way."

Stroking his hand down his beard, Dumbledore nodded. "I was not one hundred percent certain, but I thought there was a strong possibility."

"Yet you said nothing to me before I went to his rooms," Harry said, carefully keeping the frustration out of his voice. Why did this man think he could manipulate the world? Oh, that's right, because he could and did, regularly.

"I believed you might be able to help Severus. He's taking my choice very hard. I want him…and you for that matter, to be content."

"Don't you think that Professor Snape and I should make that decision?"

"I'm concerned about Severus. I want to see his pain eased. Did you help him?"

A part of Harry understood Dumbledore's motivations, but the rest of him wanted to kick something. "I drained some of his despair off before--"

A knock at the door interrupted Harry. Snape entered, stopping short when he saw Harry sitting in the chair beside Dumbledore's bed.

"Oh," Snape said, glancing first at him and then at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I shall return later."

Seeing Snape kindled a warm feeling in Harry's chest, but he couldn't possibly consider that now. Waving a hand, Harry gestured for Snape to take the seat next to him. "No. Come in. This is about you, too."

With an uncharacteristically uncertain look, Snape sat down, glancing first at Harry and then back at Dumbledore. "What exactly is this about?" His tone approached what Harry remembered as normal for him.

"It's about what happened last night."

Dumbledore didn't look quite as self-satisfied now; indeed, he looked just as worried as Harry felt. "I sent Harry to see you last night."

"Ah. So that's why you sent me this?" Snape pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes.

"You opened it? Oh, well done." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with his approval.

"What's in the note?" Harry glanced at Snape.

"Nothing."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Quite literally, nothing. It was blank." Snape glared at Dumbledore, reproachfully.

"There was little sense in actually saying anything in a note since you don't generally read your mail." He said it insouciantly, but Harry could hear an under tone of concern, and was sure Snape could, too.

"Be that as it may, I'd like to know what you hoped to accomplish by this," Snape asked, giving Dumbledore a withering look worthy of the Snape of old.

"Couldn't you have just asked me to look in on him? I would have." Harry was annoyed by the subterfuge, all of that trouble, to get him into Snape's quarters and apparently into Snape's bed.

Dumbledore played with one of the tassels on his pillow. "You might have refused. I could hardly order you down to the dungeons."

"Why was it so important that he see me?" Snape sounded confused, perhaps even hurt.

Harry could understand that. "Harmonious magic."

"So, it was real. I've never believed it existed." There was ever so slight a note of awe in Snape's voice.

"Apparently it does."

Snape's shoulders sagged and he sat back in his seat. "It did seem too good--"

"Oh, it was real. Very real," Dumbledore assured him.

"So much so, other people felt it." A knot formed in Harry's stomach. Snape looked appalled.

"That is--" Snape sputtered, his face flushing. "Will you leave me no dignity at all?"

"You needn't worry about your privacy. However much the two of you might resonate together, I sincerely doubt anyone will recognize the harmony as yours."

"You're joking," said Snape.

"I am not joking. Did you never wonder why there were such volatile emotions between you both?" Dumbledore's expression was a bit too amused for Harry's tastes.

"We hated each other every year I was in school," Harry said, tamping down his ire. Those had been long, hard years for him, and while Snape had trained him well, there had been little more than grudging respect between them at the time.

"Now, Harry, think about it. What is the opposite of hate?"

"Not in my case and I sincerely doubt in Potter's either. That does not explain what has happened now, either." Snape's face was a dull shade of red, his embarrassment evident.

"Severus is right. What are we going to do about it?" Harry asked, dismayed by what Dumbledore was implying.

"What can be done?" Snape looked away as he asked it.

He and Snape needed to discuss this, but he could not think straight right now. "We're not going to discuss it here." He turned to Snape. "Professor…" No, at this point, calling him that wasn't quite appropriate. "Severus?"
 
Snape raised his head slowly, and met Harry's eyes. "Yes?"

"Shall we talk after dinner as we had planned?" Harry smiled reassuringly and was delighted when Snape smiled back. Maybe they could work it out between them and leave Dumbledore out completely.

"As you please, Harry." Snape turned to Dumbledore. "There are a few more matters that I wish to discuss with you."

"I'll see you both later." Harry stood.

Dumbledore sent him a pleading look. "Harry…don't be angry."

"I'm not." Harry was sure Dumbledore knew he was lying, but to say anything else would only serve to prolong the conversation. "You haven't changed much, have you, sir?"

"At this point, I doubt I shall." Dumbledore didn't seem at all regretful; indeed he still seemed pleased with himself.

"I doubt it too, sir. I'll see you both later."

As he closed the door, Harry thought there were some things about home that he hadn't missed at all.

*****

Harry walked along the lake edge, watching the wake the great squid left in the water as it moved just under the surface. The day was cool for early July. If he were in New York, it would be steaming, but he couldn't help wishing he were back there, anyway. Nothing in his life in New York was this difficult, nothing mattered this much, nor hurt this bad.

"Harry," Hermione called as she strode towards him, her full robes billowing in a way that reminded him of Snape's classroom entrances. "I've been looking for you all morning."

Harry stopped, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to catch up. "I didn't know you were looking for me or I would have--"

"I know," she said with a slight smile. "I spoke with Draco."

"He told you?" Harry didn't know why that surprised him so much.

"Did you think he'd keep it a secret? Draco and I agreed early on not to keep secrets from each other."

"That's a good policy," Harry agreed, wishing he'd put it into practice with his own relationships. He might still have one.

"We thought so. You didn't have to cut us off. We would have understood." She folded her arms under her breasts, emphasizing her round belly.

Harry looked down and resisted the urge to scuff his foot in the soft dirt. "I was going to be a Muggle. Having wizard friends wouldn't have worked very well under those circumstances."

"You thought to deny your magic completely? I can't believe you actually were going to try it."

"I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time. The only thing that occurred to me was to stop using it."

Hermione shook her head. "Surely--"

"No. I can see now that there were other options, but at the time, I was terrified I'd be corrupted by my magic."

"Didn't Dumbledore try and talk you out of it?" Hermione asked.

"Of course he did! So did everyone else I talked to in those last few weeks before school ended. I was too panicked to listen to anyone. No one and nothing could make a dent in my resolve." Harry shivered thinking about the frustration of those conversations and his growing fear of misusing the overwhelming power surging through him.

"You didn't talk to me." Her voice cracked.

"I knew I was going to leave -- I couldn't pull you closer. No matter how much I might have wanted to." Harry bit his bottom lip.

Hermione looked hurt; no, worse than that, she looked betrayed. "You left without a word. Dumbledore told me you were gone and for a long time, I couldn't believe it."

"I'm so sorry. I wish there was something else I could have done."

"I was your best friend. You should have talked to me." She stopped and took a deep breath.

Harry's eyes stung and he had to blink to clear them. "I know it won't help now, but I'm so sorry. I was afraid that I'd hurt someone inadvertently. I knew I had to go away." The helplessness he'd felt, his lack of control, not being able to deal with the constant hum of the magic that surged through him, had all been too much to bear.

For a moment, Hermione looked as if she wanted to strike out.  Then her shoulders slumped. "How long did you last without magic?"

"About a year. But there was a constant ache inside me. I missed it terribly. It felt as if I was denying a huge part of myself."

Her eyes widened. "I can't believe you lasted that long. I doubt I could have."

"I was living as a Muggle. That made it easier. Well, marginally. Finally, I couldn't resist anymore and I started to use it for small things. By the time I graduated from university, I wanted to be a full-time wizard again." Harry was relieved to see the sympathy in her expression.

"You still went to Muggle medical school."

"It wasn't completely Muggle. Things aren't as separate in New York as they are here." He had been and still was very grateful for the blurring of those lines.

"You were in between the two worlds, weren't you? Now you're actually in both?"

Harry nodded, pleased that she understood. "I want to help the wizarding world. We depend so heavily on our magic and ignore so many other things."

"Mind healing is one of those things that doesn't receive nearly enough attention. A wizard can go mad and no one will notice, or if by some chance someone does notice something amiss, there's little that can be done. I know a wizard who could use some help." She stopped, looking uncomfortable.

"Snape? It's pretty obvious he's not himself. I was with him last night." Harry blushed at her startled look.

She blushed too, and looked down. "We wondered at the magical harmony we felt last night. Most people who find that kind of harmony also know how to shield it."

Harry knew who she meant: herself and Draco. He was aghast by the very thought, but tried to stifle it. No doubt she'd be offended if he said anything. "Dumbledore sent me down to see him."

"I expect he hoped you'd be able to help Severus." Hermione seemed uncomfortable.

"I hope I helped him." He would find it hard to forgive himself -- or Dumbledore -- if he'd hurt Snape more.

"I'm sure you helped. I'm curious though, how did you manage…." she trailed off, her face flushing. "To…get him to agree?"

"When I went to his rooms, Snape's despair rolled off him in waves. I couldn't just let him suffer. I channeled a small amount, but then…." Uncomfortable, Harry shrugged. "I offered and he accepted."

Hermione's mouth fell open and she tilted her head to look at him. "He accepted? Just like that? That doesn't sound like him at all."

Her look unsettled Harry even more. "I'm not sure why exactly I did it either. I told him it was because he knew me, and that was certainly part of it."

"Did you feel compelled?" She was very serious, worried even, but for whom, Harry wasn't sure.

"Not exactly. At that moment, I wanted comfort. To be with someone I knew, who could make me feel better. I can't tell you why, but I knew he would provide what I needed."

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, still looking uneasy. "That should… I don't know. Do you do things like that often?"

Harry shook his head. "Uh…never. I've just had a four-year relationship end rather abruptly. We didn't agree to be exclusive, but I never dated anyone else."

"Did Dumbledore say anything?"

"No. I mean…I don't understand what happened." Harry hid his discomfort with a sigh. "Can you tell me about what's wrong with Snape?"

"What exactly do you want to know about Severus?" Hermione asked, her suspicion carefully controlled.

That bothered him, even as he acknowledged her right to it. "Even after ten years, there should be something left of his old personality. Some of that sarcastic, greasy git I remember." Harry held up his hand before she could protest. "People don't change that much, not adults anyway, not without a good reason."

"It's worsened in the last few months, since we found out about Albus, but I think it's been coming on for a long time. After the war, it was hard for everyone, but we had a purpose. In the last year or so, he seems to have lost his."

"I know it couldn't have been easy, even with Voldemort gone. And Dumbledore's decision triggered the break-down." A pang of regret washed through Harry. He should have been here to help clean up the mess.

She nodded. "Even knowing how close they were, Draco and I were surprised at how hard Severus took the news."

"Dumbledore is his closest friend, someone who has been his protector, his mentor. I'm sure that Severus feels as if he's being abandoned."

"I never considered Severus in those terms. It seems…childish."

"Not at all. But you find it difficult to picture, don't you?" Harry said, fighting for his objectivity. "That's part of the greater problem of the wizarding world. We tend to think of ourselves as strong because of the power we control. Severus has always been so controlled and resilient."

"He's still very much controlled. It's not as if he's mad, or raving. He just…."

"Do