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snarry_holidaysTitle: It’s Harry, Remember
Author: We'll never tell!
Giftee:pollicem
Word Count: 7700+
Rating: PG
Pairing: Severus/Harry pre-slash
Warnings: Sadly, none.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry has only ever wanted to be normal. Believing he will never stop being harassed in the wizarding world, he leaves. What happens to bring him back?
Author’s Notes: Thanks tonefariousandrea for doing the first round of betaing for me. This story would not have been nearly as good as it came out to be without bewarethesmirk, helping me whip it into shape. The two asterisked lines are direct quotes of the first Harry Potter book and movie. pollicem I hope you like it!
Part I
Harry walked along Diagon Alley, trying not to draw attention to himself. He kept his eyes to the ground, peering up periodically through his fringe to make sure he did not run into anyone. Even though his scar had started to fade, it was still dark enough for people to see. So far he had not been noticed, but he wondered how long that would last. In and out, he thought as he hurried down the street, stopping outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies. I just have to go in, find a gift for Ron and I can leave again.
He pushed open the door and winced as the bell above his head tinkled. He glanced around quickly, grimacing slightly as he saw how many people were in the shop. In and out, Harry. He started to walk towards the displays, when he was stopped by a shopkeeper.
“How may I help...” The assistant trailed off as he caught a glimpse of the scar. “You – you’re Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived,” he sputtered.
At his yell, the other customers turned and stared at Harry. Harry could hear the whispers throughout the store: “Did someone say Harry Potter? Is he here?” The other patrons started to crowd around him, trying to look at his scar. Harry flattened his fringe in desperation.
“It is him,” someone cried. “He has the scar and everything. Look!”
Pushing his way through hadn’t helped very much the last time, so perhaps a different strategy was needed. Harry held his hands up in defence and slowly edged towards the display, trying to ward off the people. “Yes, I am Harry Potter. I just need to pick up a gift for one of my friends. I’ll be out of your way soon.” He forced himself to say it nicely, keeping the aggravation out of his voice.
With his statement, the shop exploded in noise. All of the people swarmed about, trying to express their gratitude.
Harry groaned under his breath. “Great, now I’ll never get out of here.”
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter! Thank you for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You saved us all!” someone cheered.
“You’re welcome,” Harry said uneasily, and not without a touch of irony, as he tried to push through the crowd to continue his shopping. Harry froze when he felt someone grab him. He glanced down and tried to shake off the hands encircling his arms. The harder he struggled, the tighter the grip became. If I could just reach my wand, he thought, as he struggled to pull his right arm free.
The crowd had converged upon him, yelling over each other in an effort to be heard. He only caught snippets of what they were saying. “Mr. Potter, you have to help!”…“My daughter loves you!”…“I’ll be the best wife you could ever have.”
“Stop!” he yelled suddenly, quieting them all. “I didn’t do anything that someone else wouldn’t do. It was just my duty. You don’t have to thank me. I just want to continue shopping.” The crowd stared at him. Thinking they were acquiescing, Harry started to pull his arms out of the steadfast grip. A shockwave went through the crowd as they saw him trying to leave. The people pressed in tighter, the throng of people in the back trying to get close enough to touch him.
“I just want to go about my day,” Harry grumbled, exasperation colouring his voice as he struggled to get his arms free. The crowd pressed in tighter, trying to get closer to him. Harry sighed angrily as more people started to touch him. A wandering hand stroking along his stomach and down to his trousers had Harry growling under his breath. “Relashio,” Harry bellowed, hoping that his anger would fuel his wandless spell. He stared in shock as the spell worked, repelling the crowd.
Eyes widening at the display of power, the legion froze. In the ensuing silence, Harry whipped out his wand. “Don’t come any closer,” he growled. “If I could perform that spell while I was wandless, just think about what I can do now.”
Keeping his wand trained on them, he shuffled towards the door. He refused to take his eyes off of the mob while fumbling for the handle. When he found the knob, he said one last thing to the crowd: “You people are the reason why I never come out. All I wanted to do was pick up a Christmas gift for my friend but you won’t even let me do that. I will say it for the last time: Leave. Me. Alone!”
Harry opened the door and backed out, keeping his wand trained on the silent crowd. He did not lower it until he crossed the threshold and the door slammed in their faces. He shook his head as he turned to walk down the Alley. I’m sorry, Ron, but you’ll just have to deal with getting chocolate for Christmas.
Walking away, he shook his head before glancing back at the sound of a shout. The people were following him!
These people are mad, he thought as he ran down the street to the Apparition point, dodging other patrons while trying to stay ahead of the growing flock of people. He pulled out his wand to Apparate, never noticing the dark gaze that followed him. With a crack Harry was gone, seconds before the crowd converged on the spot.
******
“I can’t take it anymore,” Harry snarled, storming into the house after he Apparated to the Burrow.
Molly glanced up at him from her cooking and asked, “Can’t take what, dearie?”
Harry sighed and fell into a chair. “The people. They won’t leave me alone. Every time I go somewhere I end up being followed. I’m sick of it.” While Harry was talking, Ron made his way into the kitchen, freezing at his next sentence. “I’m thinking of leaving, Molly. Going to the Muggle world and starting over.”
“What!” Ron yelled as he rushed into the kitchen and grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “You can’t leave, mate.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he gathered his thoughts before looking at Ron. “I don’t want to, Ron, but if it comes down to it, I will.”
Ron waved at his mum to leave as he sat down across from Harry. Molly exited the room with a soft, “Mind the potatoes.”
“Why would you leave and go live like a Muggle, Harry? I thought you loved magic.”
“I do, Ron, but you don’t understand. I can’t go anywhere anymore. Every time I’m seen in public, people mob me. I went to Diagon today to pick up your gift and the people grabbed me.” Frustrated, Harry stood and started to pace. “I knew the public would be grateful, and the staring would be worse than before, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.” Harry glanced at Ron dejectedly. “I thought I could handle it, but I can‘t.”
“The war just ended, Harry. Give people time. Soon it will die down and you’ll be able to walk around like normal. Why do you have to go running off to the Muggle world?”
“Someone tried to stick their hand down my trousers, Ron! They think that just because I’m their saviour they have the right to do whatever they want to me. The war ended almost six months ago and they’ve invaded my privacy, tried to break into my house – you guys can’t even send me letters because my adoring fans will open them,” Harry sneered. “Since moving in here, Aurors had to come out to update the wards since my admirers won’t leave me alone. I had to be spelled so I can’t receive letters because the thanks and the marriage proposals and the Howlers never stop.” Harry ceased his ranting and took a breath before staring at Ron, imploring. “Don’t you see? It’ll never end. I’ll always be the Boy-Who-Lived. They’ll never leave me in peace.”
“Harry… it’ll get better,” Ron said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Harry.
Harry shook his head. “It’s too late, Ron. I just want to be normal and I can’t be that here. I’ll stay for Christmas and the New Year but after that, I’m leaving,” Harry said as he walked towards the stairs.
Part II
Harry walked down the street, digging through his coat pockets for his keys. He stopped outside his building and shivered in the frigid wind. “Come on, where are you?” he mumbled as he patted his trousers. “Damn it,” he groaned. “What I wouldn’t give for a Summoning Charm.”
“Hi, Harry,” his flatmate Emily said as she held the door open for him. “Did you lose your keys again?”
“No,” he ground out as he squeezed by her. “They’re here somewhere. I just have to find them.” He set his bag down and started to dig through it. “Aha,” he said as he pulled them out of the depths of his pocket. “Told you I had them.” Harry grinned at her as he grabbed his bag and stood up.
Emily shook her head, laughing. “Come on, Harry. Let’s go upstairs.”
Harry walked over to the mailboxes. “Mail first.”
“I got it when I came in earlier,” Emily said as she walked up the stairs.
“Did my book come?” Harry asked as he followed her. They walked to the first floor and down the hallway.
“No, but you got a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Yeah, it’s written on some weird parchment paper.” Harry froze as Emily opened the door and walked through. She dropped her things on the floor and plopped down onto the couch. Harry followed her in a daze, slowly closing the door behind him.
He walked into his room and dropped his bag on the floor before collapsing on the bed. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Harry? Where’d you go?” Emily called from the living room.
Harry rubbed his face in his hands as he groaned. “I’m in my room. I’m just setting my stuff down.”
“Oh, your letter’s on your desk.”
Harry sat up and stared at his desk. He scrambled off his bed and walked into the living room, flopping on the couch. He grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and started to flip through it, moving his arms to allow Emily to put her feet in his lap. “You’re not going to read it?”
“Huh, read what?” he replied, glancing up at her.
“Your letter,” she said, distractedly, her eyes glued to show on the telly.
“I’ll read it later.” He turned back to his magazine, stopping at any article that caught his attention. Admittedly, there weren’t that many, the magazine wasn’t that interesting but it was useful enough to distract him from what awaited him in his room. They sat in the comfortable silence, the quiet drone of the telly helping to drown out his thoughts.
“Are you coming out with the girls tonight?” Emily asked suddenly, reaching up and turned off the television before turning to look at him. Harry blinked at her bemusedly, racking his brain to figure out what she was talking about.
“Probably not,” he finally said when he remembered her plans to go clubbing that night. “I have to finish my paper.”
“Come on, Harry,” Emily wheedled. “You have to come. I have a new bloke I want to introduce you to.”
“Emily,” Harry said, drawing out her name in warning.
“Yes, Harry?” she squeaked, looking everywhere besides Harry. Setting down his magazine he turned to stare at her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
“Did you set me up on a blind date again?”
“No.”
Harry glared at her until she fidgeted.
“Maybe,” she finally muttered.
“Emily Morris! How many times have I told you I don’t want to date anyone right now?”
“A few times, but Harry, you need to stop pining. Go out and have fun.”
“I’m not pining,” he grumbled. “I told you then I didn’t want to date and it hasn’t changed.”
She pulled her feet out of Harry’s lap and sat up. “Look Harry, you are pining.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but she slapped a hand over his mouth and continued. “Don’t tell me you’re not. Ever since we first met in class, I’ve watched you turn down every offer you’ve had for a date. Every time it’s the same excuse: ‘I like this bloke. I’m sorry.’ I know you don’t like to talk about it, but...” Emily paused, steeling herself. “Harry, you told me he was dead.” She pulled her hand away and sat back.
Harry paused, glancing away to stare at the carpet until his eyesight went blurry. He hated thinking about his past. Swallowing he replied: “Yeah, he is, but going on blind dates isn’t going to make me get over him.”
“Harry,” Emily implored, annoyance seeping into her voice. “It’s been five years. When are you going to let yourself move on?”
“You don’t understand, Emily. I stood there and watched him die. I couldn’t save him. I didn’t save him.”
He’s been gone for five years. Why does this still bother me? It’s not like he would even return my feelings if he had lived.
“What happened?” Emily asked. “You’ve never told me that.”
Harry walked over to the fireplace, drumming his fingers along the mantle as he collected his thoughts, trying to figure out how much he could tell her without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. “You know how I have nightmares, right?”
“Yeah, you get them pretty bad,” she replied.
Turning around and leaning against the fireplace, he caught her eye and held it. “I’m only going to tell this once, understand? It’s hard to talk about so let me tell the story and just ask your questions later.”
Emily nodded, leaning forward to hear better. “Got it. I’ll just shut up and listen.”
Sighing, Harry wondered where to start. Taking a fortifying breath he started speaking: “There was a fight between two sides that were hell bent on destroying each other.” Already he saw Emily was opening her mouth, probably in curiosity, and Harry raised his voice to answer her unspoken question. “You wouldn’t have heard about it on the telly since it never got big enough to gain national attention. It should have just been two groups fighting over which would lead the town but the leader of the other side was determined to win at any costs. He killed anyone who got in his way.”
“That’s disgusting,” Emily interjected, her hand hiding the horror etched on her face. “He wasn’t in power already, was he?”
“Yeah, I know. It was horrible.” Harry took a deep breath, folding his arms before plowing onwards. “He was trying to take over and my parents were trying to find evidence against him when he found out and had them killed. He disappeared after that and after awhile everyone thought he had died but he was just biding his time.”
“Oh Harry,” she said, compassion seeping into her voice. “I’m so sorry.” She hesitated before asking, “Is that what you have nightmares about? Your parents’ murder?”
“No, not really. They died when I was a baby.” Seeing Emily open her mouth to speak, and the sympathy in her eyes, he held up a hand to stop her, needing to finish. “Don’t. You wanted to hear this so let me finish. Anyway, there was this man who lived in my town while I was growing up, and everyone said he had been a follower of the rebel, and I thought he was. He was bad tempered, sarcastic, and just plain spiteful towards me.”
“Is this the bloke you like?” Emily interjected again, skepticism tinting her voice. She was now perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes trained unerringly on Harry.
“Yes, and I know what you’re thinking, just let me explain.
“I didn’t like him while growing up, but it all started to change when word got out that Tom was back. I was with the mayor was told, and when he called Severus to him, asking him if he was ready to go back into enemy territory.”
“So he was a spy!” Emily exclaimed, understanding infusing her voice. She drew her legs up to her chest and gripped them, staring wide-eyed at Harry, captivated by the story.
“Yes, but I didn’t believe it then,” Harry said, forcing calmness into his voice to mask his annoyance at her interruptions. “Anyway, during my last year of high school, Tom assassinated the mayor and my best friends and I fled.”
“Is this when you started to realise that – what was his name… Severus ¬– was on your side.”
“Yes,” Harry said for the third time, gritting his teeth in agitation. “While we were travelling someone kept helping us, but I didn’t think it was him.”
“How’d you find out it was him?”
“If I could finish, I’d tell you,” he said, frowning in displeasure. He did not mean to take his anger out on Emily but talking about Severus always made him restless and upset. He forced himself not to fidget, curling his fingers to stop their drumming against his folded arms. He just wanted to finish the story and move on.
“Sorry. Continue.” Emily ducked her head.
“Thank you.” Harry paused, trying to figure out how to tell the next part without bringing in Legilimency. “We got word that Tom was going to storm the government building, killing everyone as a way to draw me out.” He took a shuttering breath, shaking off the memories of the day, before continuing. “We got back, just in time for his attack. Since it was me he wanted I thought that if I gave myself up, he would leave everyone alone –”
“Harry,” she cut in, exasperated, shaking her head. Waving her hands, she stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Why do boys always believe the things they see in action films? That stuff never works in real life. They’ll just kill you and everyone else.”
“I know that now, Emily.” As much as he liked her, he hated that she could never keep her comments to herself. “Anyway, back to the story,” he said with a glare, causing Emily to throw her hands up. “So I snuck into his stronghold, and while hiding in a room, I heard voices through the cracked door. It was Tom and Severus. I thought Severus was getting commands but when I saw his bruised face and his arms bound behind his back I realised that something was wrong.” Harry was lost in the retelling, remembering every detail of the Shack and the fear he felt that day.
“I watched as Tom pulled out a knife and stabbed Severus – four or five times – in the chest and left him to bleed out.” He shut his eyes in pain, trying to force the memories aside so he wouldn’t break down. He tensed up, head hanging as he tried to take deep breaths to force himself to calm down. His twitching leg betrayed the anxiety he was feeling. He opened his eyes and stared at the floor, the events of that night flashing before his eyes as he spoke. “As much as I hated him, no one deserved that. I rushed in and when I got to Severus, he opened his eyes and stared at me, resignation in his eyes. He knew he was going to die. He kept muttering something, a litany of ‘letter, front pocket, take it,’ and when I finally reached down and did, he started apologising for not protecting me more, until he closed his eyes and stopped talking.”
At the sound of a sob, Harry looked up, seeing Emily curled up on the couch, her head buried in her knees, crying. He pulled out a tissue as he walked over to her.
“No, I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice choked with tears. She waved him away as she wiped her face. Sitting on the couch next to her, he waited until she spoke again. “How did you fall in love with him?” she asked, finally looking up again at Harry.
Harry glanced away and sighed. “The letter I had taken was instructions on how to get by Tom’s guards to kill him. Long story short, the resistance used it to kill him. After it was over, I went to Severus’ house, trying to find anything that could explain why he would be protecting me, why he would give up his life.” Harry remembered sitting for hours, after the war, watching Severus’ memories, trying to figure out the man behind the mask.
“What did you find?” Emily asked, her soft voice breaking the silence.
“Letters,” he whispered, trying but failing to mask the anguish in his voice. “Old ones from my mom from when they grew up together and, surprisingly, letters to me, explaining what he did to keep me safe. It was the first time I saw who he was and what he had given up to help us – help me. I grew to appreciate him and his sacrifice and then one day that turned to attraction.” Harry shook his head and glanced at her. “I don’t know how, and I know it’s stupid to like someone who is dead, but I can’t help it. I started to defend his memory to people who disparaged him, and I told the newspapers everything he had done to save us.”
Staring at her, the clock ticked by and silence reigned. Emily opened her mouth then closed it again, shaking her head. Minutes passed as the silence grew, becoming more uncomfortable until finally, Emily blurted out, “Harry, you have to let him go. It’s not fair to you or his memory to continue with this… this infatuation. I know you feel sorry that you did not get to know him before he died, but saving yourself for the memory of someone who is dead isn’t healthy.”
“I know that!” Harry said, frustrated with himself. “That’s why I left. I was hoping if I got away, came to the big city, I would forget about him and move on with my life. Every time I try, I see him, lying before me, dying, and even with his last breath, he was trying to help us. Help me.” Harry scrubbed his face in irritation. “I can’t stop thinking about how heroic he was. How even though the people in the town hated him, he still did everything he could – died for us – so that we could all be safe. This isn’t something I can just turn off. I’ve tried.”
He cradled his head in his hands, trying to compel himself to forget about Severus. A hand on his shoulder forced him to look up.
“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” Emily tentatively offered. “Just to try. You don’t have to do anything but meet my friend and talk a little. Maybe this time something will happen, but if it doesn’t, at least it’s a step in the right direction.”
Staring into her light brown eyes, Harry shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too close tonight.” Memories of the event battered his mind. “I’m going to my room. Have fun,” he whispered as he walked out of the room, curling up on his bed with his back towards his desk.
Why did this have to happen now? Trying desperately not to think of the letter and all that it reminded him of, he forced himself to clear his mind.
******
Harry jerked awake, panting harshly as the last remnants of his nightmare faded. Glancing around, his heart slowed as he realised he was safe in his room. Peering at the clock on his dresser, he groaned when he saw the late hour. “1:30,” he thought as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, perching his glasses on his face. Shaking his head when he realised he had fallen asleep in his clothes, he climbed off the bed to change, walking towards his closet, pulling his shirt off as he went.
“Damn it,” he mumbled as his shirt knocked his glasses off, and felt along the floor for them, jamming them on his face as he stood . He froze when his gaze landed upon his desk, barely able to make out the edge of the letter in the darkness. “Just pick it up and throw it out, Harry,” he said, his determination faltering with the hesitancy in his voice. Shaking his head, he walked over to the desk and picked up the letter, pulling his rubbish bin out to discard it. Dangling the letter over the bin, he hesitated.
What if it’s important?
With a groan, he fell back on his bed. He sighed and glanced down at the unopened letter in his hand as he tapped it against his leg, debating whether he should open it. Don’t open it, he thought to himself. You gave up that life years ago.
But what if it’s important?
After the first year, they stopped trying to contact me. Why would they contact me now, four years later?
Harry mumbled to himself as he fingered the parchment. “Just throw it out, Harry. You left for a reason. You’re happy without magic.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the closet before he could stop himself. You may be able to lie to everyone else but you can’t lie to me, his inner voice cackled. He ached to do magic, to pick up his wand from the box he had laid it in when he had left the wizarding world. Just because you shoved the box in your closet does not mean that you don’t remember it’s there.
Harry groaned as he dragged his gaze away from the closet. He put his head into his hands and gripped his hair. “Why is this so hard?”
Because you know you want it. You want to go back to the wizarding world – to magic, to your friends. Open the letter, Harry.
Harry stared at his hands. He took a deep breath and pulled open the envelope. As he took out the letter, he did not notice a scrap of paper falling to the floor. The letter plucked itself out of his fingers and floated in the air, a soft voice, seemingly from nowhere, filled the room.
Harry closed his eyes in pain as he remembered that day – the shouts, the fear, the anger, the dead. He glanced up as the letter fell to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he froze as he saw the scrap of parchment on the floor. He hesitantly reached out and picked up the parchment, running his thumb over the familiar handwriting.
Hermione, he thought. He read the two lines in trepidation.
Please come, Harry. We miss you.
Harry bit his lip. Think of all you have missed. Hermione… Ron… Teddy. You haven’t seen you godson since he was born.
Stop it, he cried to his inner voice.
You’re not happy and you know it.
Harry cradled his head in his hands. I don’t want to go back there. It holds too many memories.
At least go to make peace. You’ll never be able to move on if you don’t lay him to rest.
“Shut up,” Harry said out loud.
No.
Yes.
I’ll shut up if you go.
“Fine,” Harry growled. “I’ll go.” At his desk he grabbed a piece of paper and stared at it, trying to figure out what to say. He bit his lip and wrote:
Harry folded the letter and picked up the envelope. Before he could to talk himself out of it, he stuffed the letter in and closed the flap. A chime reverberated – sounding as if it were coming from the room itself – as words appeared across the flap.
Harry stared at the message, wondering what he had got himself into. He set the envelope aside and walked to his closet. He dug in it until he pulled free a battered box. Crossing to the bed, he sat down and ran his hands reverently over the lid. At last, he lifted the top off the box and gazed down at his wand.
“Five years,” he whispered as he lifted out his wand. His magic flared as he swished his wand.
“Welcome back to the wizarding world, Harry.”
******
Harry walked through Hogwarts’ halls, lost in his memories of the Final Battle. He could hear the spells going off, the yelling of the fighters, the screams of the dying. Outside of the Great Hall, he stopped, working up the courage to walk through. He stood there, just listening to the sound of laughter and cutlery clinking. You have to do this. Harry took a deep breath and pushed open the door… and froze as everyone turned to look at him.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Is that Harry Potter? He hasn’t been seen in years.”
Harry glanced around, barely taking in the decorations. Where’s Hermione? he thought frantically.
“Harry,” he heard. That sounded like Hermione, he thought, as he glanced around, smiling when he saw her stand up. She looked different, more worldly, but the same old Hermione that he remembered.
“Hermione?” he asked as he started to walk towards her. She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. As he got closer, she ran towards him and engulfed him a hug.
“Harry,” she murmured into his chest. He held her and breathed in her scent. Another touch on his shoulder caused him to look up.
“Ron,” he said as he moved to hug him. “Merlin, I’ve missed you.”
Ron squeezed him before pulling back and punching Harry in the arm.
“Ow,” Harry said, rubbing the sting away.
“That’s what you get for leaving and not keeping in contact with us. We’re your best friends.”
“I know, Ron. I just needed to get away. I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”
Ron peered at Harry, studying him, as if to see if he was serious. When he had looked his fill, he said, “Just as long as you don’t do it again.” Harry shook his head and hugged him again.
“Mr. Potter, we’re glad you could join us.” Harry glanced up to reply, looking along the head table, freezing when he saw the person sitting next to the Minister. The lank hair, sallow skin and beaky nose – he would recognise that profile anywhere.
“G – Glad to be here, Minister,” he said weakly, eyes locked on Severus. Flicking his eyes towards Ron, he lowered his voice. “Wha – what’s he doing here?”
Ron snorted when he saw who Harry was staring at. “Who, Snape? He somehow survived Nagini’s bite. Only the Minister knows how. He won’t tell anyone else.” Harry could feel Ron’s questioning gaze but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Severus. “Why do you care?”
“Because… I thought he was dead.” Harry knew he was probably paling but he couldn’t stop staring—more people were surely going to notice him, notice how haunted he probably looked. By sheer force of will, Harry yanked his eyes away before speaking in a hollow voice: “He gave up so much for the war effort. I always thought we could have done something more instead of just leaving him to die.” Harry shook his head to chase away the demons and looked up, smiling weakly to placate Ron.
Ron smiled back, hesitantly, in a smile that looked more like a grimace. Uncertainly flashed across his face. “Let’s not think about it right now, Harry. We were only children – and he lived even without our help.”
They gazed at each other for a few moments, the awkward silence growing. Ron shifted uncomfortably before changing the subject. “Let’s sit down. Hermione and I want to know what has been going on with you.” They walked over to the table, Hermione flicking her wand to move her chair over, conjuring another one in its place. Harry sat down and let the memories wash over him. It was like being back at Hogwarts – sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing with Hermione and Ron – before their lives started revolving around the war.
He shook off the memories and spent the rest of dinner catching up with Ron and Hermione. He always kept Severus in the corner of his eye, glancing up periodically at him throughout dinner just to prove he’d not been a figment of Harry’s imagination all along – a ghost come back to life.
******
Severus stared at the boy – no, man – as he glanced up at him again. He looks happier than he did when he walked in. He’s actually smiling. Severus mentally smacked himself. Why am I noticing if he smiles or not?
That’s not the only thing you are noticing, he inner voice said slyly.
I haven’t seen him since he left. I am just noticing the changes five years wrought.
He doesn’t look like a starved waif anymore. He’s finally filled out. It looks good on him, don’t you think?
Severus could practically hear the smirk in that sentence. Before he could reprimand himself further, the Minister stood and tapped his goblet.
“Thank you all for coming. Five years ago, our world was on the brink of destruction. Through the combined efforts of the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, and the students and staff of Hogwarts, the light side prevailed. The wizarding world has entered into a new era, one of peace and harmony. While we have had five years of peace, we will always remember the people that could not be here. We toast to those that gave their lives for our safety. As you raise your glasses please say the names of those we’ve lost.” Kingsley raised his glass and murmured, “Albus Dumbledore,” before drinking his champagne.
Everyone raised their glasses and toasted to the fallen heroes. As Severus stood and raised his glass, he locked eyes with Harry. “Lily Evans, Albus Dumbledore,” he said, his voice hoarse as he spoke around the lump in his throat. Six years later, and he still would not forgive himself for killing his mentor. He downed the glass, never taking his eyes off Harry, reading his lips as he raised his glass and toasted to the fallen heroes. They continued to stare at each other until Skacklebolt raised his hand for silence.
“This is a time for remembrance and a time for celebration.” He pulled his wand out and flicked it in the air, signalling the start of the music. “I know they are all looking down as we take this new turn in our history. Let the dancing begin.”
Clapping politely, Severus waited until people started to move before stalking off from the Head Table.
******
Harry watched as Severus left, wondering where he was going.
“Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry glanced at them. “Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Harry glanced over to where Severus had disappeared. “I’m fine. You guys go dance, and I’ll catch up with you later. There is something I need to do.” Harry walked off in the direction that Severus had went.
Harry walked through the door after Severus and ventured down the hallway, peering into the shadows for Severus. When he reached the Entrance Hall, he groaned at the three paths to take.
If I were Severus Snape, where would I go, dungeons, upstairs, or outside?
“Dungeons,” he said, with a nod. He’d started towards the dungeons, but paused as he walked past the outside door.
It’s open, he thought, as he pushed the door further open. His breath caught as he stared out across the grounds; they were covered in snow, lit by the moonlight. He slowly walked outside, captivated by the scene.
“Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured as Harry walked past a corner. Harry jumped and spun around to stare at him.
Harry gulped. “Professor, it’s good to see you again.”
“I’m not your professor anymore,” Severus said as he stepped out of the shadows into the dim light.
“What should I call you then?” Harry said. “Severus?”
“That will suffice, Mr. Potter.”
“It’s Harry.”
Severus glanced calculatingly at Harry before pursing his lips. “Harry, then. If that is what you prefer.”
“Yes!” Harry said, a little too enthusiastically. Severus raised his eyebrow, causing Harry to flush. “Um, I mean, yeah,” he said more sedately.
Severus smirked. “I see your vocabulary has not improved.” Harry flushed deeper and glanced down.
Great. He still thinks of me as a schoolboy, Harry berated himself. The first time I see him – the first time I find out he’s alive – and I make a fool of myself.
Harry opened his mouth, shook his head, and closed it.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” He licked his lips as he looked away.
Hearing Severus’ clear his throat, Harry glanced up. “None of that, Harry.”
“I don’t want to annoy you, and I was told you won’t answer anyway,” he said.
“Just ask, Potter.” Severus drummed his fingers along his arm as he waited for Harry to reply.
“How did you survive?” Harry whispered.
Severus inhaled sharply. “Well, that is invasive,” Severus murmured.
“You don’t have to answer,” Harry replied quickly.
“I’m surprised you have not figured it out.”
Harry cocked his head and looked at Severus curiously.
“I would have thought that you would remember that particular lesson. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?*” Harry’s eyes widened as he flushed.
“Oh… I should have thought of that.” Why is it that he can make me a babbling, blushing schoolboy? I’m better than this, Harry scolded himself again before clearing his throat. “How has no one figured that out?”
“There was no way you could have known. You needed to think I had died so you would believe my memories. As for why no one has figured it out, I think you should know that people believe what they want or what they are told in the paper. They want to believe I performed a Dark Arts ritual to come back. They choose to ignore the obvious solution – I am the foremost Potions master in the United Kingdom.”
Harry chuckled lightly. “Of course. Why don’t you answer when people ask you, though? Trying to be mysterious?” Harry grinned cheekily at Severus. He froze as he stared at Severus, watching his lip twitch. He looked like he’s going to smile. I wonder what he would look like if he did. Harry bit his lip imagining it, sighing as he forced himself to remember that just because he liked Severus did not mean that Severus liked him.
“Perhaps,” Severus replied.
Harry flicked his eyes up at Severus, eyes widening as he watched a myriad of emotions flit over Severus’ face, too fast for him to catch. He wondered what he was thinking.
“Though he should do it more often,” Severus said suddenly.
“What?” Harry asked, breaking Severus out of his thoughts. Severus looked at Harry quizzically.
“I didn’t say anything,” Severus replied.
“You – you said I should do it more often. Do what?” Harry peered at Severus, trying to discern what he was thinking.
“I did not,” Severus said, the slight quiver in his voice betraying the stoic look on his face. If Harry had not been paying close attention to him, he would have missed it.
“Yes, you did.”
Severus glanced away, and growled out a warning. “I think you are mistaken, Mr. Potter.”
“It’s Harry…and I don’t think I am. What should I do more often?”
“Leave it,” Severus groused.
“No. What should I do?”
Severus looked up and locked eyes with Harry. Neither wanted to give in first. “I—”
“Harry!” The moment was broken as they both turned to look at Ron. “This is where you went,” Ron said as he drew level with them. He glanced uncomfortably at Severus. “Snape,” he said with a nod.
“Weasley,” Severus replied. He turned to Harry and murmured, “Mr. Potter, I must take my leave. It was… surprisingly… pleasant to see you.” Severus turned to stalk back into the castle.
Harry stared after him in shock. “Wait,” Harry called out after him, “you never answered my question.”
Severus paused and glanced over his shoulder at Harry. “It does not matter.”
Harry brushed Ron off with a quick “I’ll be with you in a moment.” He walked towards Severus as Ron looked on, perplexed.
“I think it does, Severus.”
“Potter—”
“Harry, remember. How many times do I have to remind you?” Harry glanced at Severus, trying to see behind his impenetrable mask.
“Harry,” Severus conceded with a sigh. “It does not matter.”
“Why not?”
“We live in different worlds. We have a – history – a bad history. You have your life and I have mine.”
“You’ve never hid the truth from me before. You were always quite brutal with your statements.” Harry stared at Severus imploringly.
“Fine,” Severus ground out. “You should smile more. You’re too young to look as old as you do. It makes you look younger – happier. Your—” Severus grimaced. “Your face lights up.”
“You noticed that?” Harry asked, trying to quash the hopeful feeling rising in his heart.
“I’m sure half of your adoring fans noticed it as well, Potter.” Severus sneered half-heartedly and turned to walk through the doorway.
“It’s Harry,” he corrected, smiling . Severus grunted in acknowledgement, freezing at Harry’s next words. “You should smile more too, Severus.”
“Why would I do that?” Severus replied, after a brief pause.
“Because I like seeing you smile… well… half-smile. You never allow yourself to smile fully. You do this half-smirk, half-smile thing that makes you look like you have a secret that no one else knows.”
Severus turned to face Harry, scanning his face carefully. Before he could reply, Harry cut in.
“This was fun, Severus. I never realised how much I missed the wizarding world until I got back… what?” Harry asked as he noticed Severus was staring at him, a question hidden in his eyes.
“Why did you run off to the Muggle world?”
“If you want to know what is happening in my life, owl me.” Harry stared at Severus challengingly.
“Owl you,” Severus scoffed. “Why would I want to know about your life? I am no longer your professor and you left our world.”
“I left because it was the only place where I could be normal.”
“Mr. Potter, no matter how much the public idolised you or mobbed you in Diagon Alley” – Harry’s eyes widened at the statement – “or treated you like you were Merlin reincarnate, you were – are – normal.”
Harry smiled. “Fame isn’t everything*,” Harry muttered, remembering his first Potions class.
Severus grimaced, possibly in remembrance of that very lesson. “No, it is not.”
Harry glanced at Severus. “Thank you.” At Severus’ cocked eyebrow, he continued. “For never seeing me as the Boy-Who-Lived – for treating me like you would any other student.” At Severus’ raised eyebrow and disbelieving snort he continued, “Ok, so maybe not like any other student. But the one thing I could rely on was you making my life hell and not treating me like a saviour.”
“Normal?” Severus sputtered. “You must be delusional if you think that’s normal.”
“Then I’m delusional.” Turning around and walking back to where he’d left Ron, he called over his shoulder. “Good night, Severus. I’ll wait two weeks for your owl.”
“You already answered my question. I have no need to owl you.”
Harry caught Severus’ eye. “That wasn’t the only reason why I left. If you want to find out, you have two weeks.” He watched as Severus stood there for a moment before stalking back into the castle.
“What was that? You’re going to owl Snape!” Ron exclaimed as he turned to stare in half-disbelief, half-disgust at Harry.
Harry glanced at Ron. “It’s nothing, Ron. Come on, let’s go find Hermione.” Harry walked up the stairs and through the door. As Ron rushed to catch up, Harry smiled to himself. Who would have thought Severus and I could have a conversation. Now all he has to do is owl me.
******
Two Weeks Later
Harry walked down the street, whistling tunelessly as he dug through his coat pockets for his keys. He pulled them out and walked into his building, stopping in the entrance to check the mail. He sighed when he saw the empty mailbox, his mood ruined as he closed it and trudged up the stairs. It’s been two weeks, he thought dejectedly. Maybe he really didn’t want to get to know me.
He pushed open his door and called out to Emily, “I’m home.” He walked into his room and dropped his bag on his bed.
“Hey, Harry,” Emily called from the kitchen. “You got another one of those weird letters. It’s on your desk.” Harry stared at his desk before rushing over to open the letter. He wrote to me, he exclaimed internally as he spied the spiky handwriting.
Harry ripped open the letter and proceeded to read it.
Chuckling lightly at the letter, Harry pulled out a piece of paper to reply. He smirked as he started to write.
Finis
Author: We'll never tell!
Giftee:
pollicem Word Count: 7700+
Rating: PG
Pairing: Severus/Harry pre-slash
Warnings: Sadly, none.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry has only ever wanted to be normal. Believing he will never stop being harassed in the wizarding world, he leaves. What happens to bring him back?
Author’s Notes: Thanks to
nefariousandrea for doing the first round of betaing for me. This story would not have been nearly as good as it came out to be without bewarethesmirk, helping me whip it into shape. The two asterisked lines are direct quotes of the first Harry Potter book and movie. pollicem I hope you like it! Harry walked along Diagon Alley, trying not to draw attention to himself. He kept his eyes to the ground, peering up periodically through his fringe to make sure he did not run into anyone. Even though his scar had started to fade, it was still dark enough for people to see. So far he had not been noticed, but he wondered how long that would last. In and out, he thought as he hurried down the street, stopping outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies. I just have to go in, find a gift for Ron and I can leave again.
He pushed open the door and winced as the bell above his head tinkled. He glanced around quickly, grimacing slightly as he saw how many people were in the shop. In and out, Harry. He started to walk towards the displays, when he was stopped by a shopkeeper.
“How may I help...” The assistant trailed off as he caught a glimpse of the scar. “You – you’re Harry Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived,” he sputtered.
At his yell, the other customers turned and stared at Harry. Harry could hear the whispers throughout the store: “Did someone say Harry Potter? Is he here?” The other patrons started to crowd around him, trying to look at his scar. Harry flattened his fringe in desperation.
“It is him,” someone cried. “He has the scar and everything. Look!”
Pushing his way through hadn’t helped very much the last time, so perhaps a different strategy was needed. Harry held his hands up in defence and slowly edged towards the display, trying to ward off the people. “Yes, I am Harry Potter. I just need to pick up a gift for one of my friends. I’ll be out of your way soon.” He forced himself to say it nicely, keeping the aggravation out of his voice.
With his statement, the shop exploded in noise. All of the people swarmed about, trying to express their gratitude.
Harry groaned under his breath. “Great, now I’ll never get out of here.”
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter! Thank you for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You saved us all!” someone cheered.
“You’re welcome,” Harry said uneasily, and not without a touch of irony, as he tried to push through the crowd to continue his shopping. Harry froze when he felt someone grab him. He glanced down and tried to shake off the hands encircling his arms. The harder he struggled, the tighter the grip became. If I could just reach my wand, he thought, as he struggled to pull his right arm free.
The crowd had converged upon him, yelling over each other in an effort to be heard. He only caught snippets of what they were saying. “Mr. Potter, you have to help!”…“My daughter loves you!”…“I’ll be the best wife you could ever have.”
“Stop!” he yelled suddenly, quieting them all. “I didn’t do anything that someone else wouldn’t do. It was just my duty. You don’t have to thank me. I just want to continue shopping.” The crowd stared at him. Thinking they were acquiescing, Harry started to pull his arms out of the steadfast grip. A shockwave went through the crowd as they saw him trying to leave. The people pressed in tighter, the throng of people in the back trying to get close enough to touch him.
“I just want to go about my day,” Harry grumbled, exasperation colouring his voice as he struggled to get his arms free. The crowd pressed in tighter, trying to get closer to him. Harry sighed angrily as more people started to touch him. A wandering hand stroking along his stomach and down to his trousers had Harry growling under his breath. “Relashio,” Harry bellowed, hoping that his anger would fuel his wandless spell. He stared in shock as the spell worked, repelling the crowd.
Eyes widening at the display of power, the legion froze. In the ensuing silence, Harry whipped out his wand. “Don’t come any closer,” he growled. “If I could perform that spell while I was wandless, just think about what I can do now.”
Keeping his wand trained on them, he shuffled towards the door. He refused to take his eyes off of the mob while fumbling for the handle. When he found the knob, he said one last thing to the crowd: “You people are the reason why I never come out. All I wanted to do was pick up a Christmas gift for my friend but you won’t even let me do that. I will say it for the last time: Leave. Me. Alone!”
Harry opened the door and backed out, keeping his wand trained on the silent crowd. He did not lower it until he crossed the threshold and the door slammed in their faces. He shook his head as he turned to walk down the Alley. I’m sorry, Ron, but you’ll just have to deal with getting chocolate for Christmas.
Walking away, he shook his head before glancing back at the sound of a shout. The people were following him!
These people are mad, he thought as he ran down the street to the Apparition point, dodging other patrons while trying to stay ahead of the growing flock of people. He pulled out his wand to Apparate, never noticing the dark gaze that followed him. With a crack Harry was gone, seconds before the crowd converged on the spot.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Harry snarled, storming into the house after he Apparated to the Burrow.
Molly glanced up at him from her cooking and asked, “Can’t take what, dearie?”
Harry sighed and fell into a chair. “The people. They won’t leave me alone. Every time I go somewhere I end up being followed. I’m sick of it.” While Harry was talking, Ron made his way into the kitchen, freezing at his next sentence. “I’m thinking of leaving, Molly. Going to the Muggle world and starting over.”
“What!” Ron yelled as he rushed into the kitchen and grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “You can’t leave, mate.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he gathered his thoughts before looking at Ron. “I don’t want to, Ron, but if it comes down to it, I will.”
Ron waved at his mum to leave as he sat down across from Harry. Molly exited the room with a soft, “Mind the potatoes.”
“Why would you leave and go live like a Muggle, Harry? I thought you loved magic.”
“I do, Ron, but you don’t understand. I can’t go anywhere anymore. Every time I’m seen in public, people mob me. I went to Diagon today to pick up your gift and the people grabbed me.” Frustrated, Harry stood and started to pace. “I knew the public would be grateful, and the staring would be worse than before, but I didn’t know it would be this bad.” Harry glanced at Ron dejectedly. “I thought I could handle it, but I can‘t.”
“The war just ended, Harry. Give people time. Soon it will die down and you’ll be able to walk around like normal. Why do you have to go running off to the Muggle world?”
“Someone tried to stick their hand down my trousers, Ron! They think that just because I’m their saviour they have the right to do whatever they want to me. The war ended almost six months ago and they’ve invaded my privacy, tried to break into my house – you guys can’t even send me letters because my adoring fans will open them,” Harry sneered. “Since moving in here, Aurors had to come out to update the wards since my admirers won’t leave me alone. I had to be spelled so I can’t receive letters because the thanks and the marriage proposals and the Howlers never stop.” Harry ceased his ranting and took a breath before staring at Ron, imploring. “Don’t you see? It’ll never end. I’ll always be the Boy-Who-Lived. They’ll never leave me in peace.”
“Harry… it’ll get better,” Ron said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Harry.
Harry shook his head. “It’s too late, Ron. I just want to be normal and I can’t be that here. I’ll stay for Christmas and the New Year but after that, I’m leaving,” Harry said as he walked towards the stairs.
Harry walked down the street, digging through his coat pockets for his keys. He stopped outside his building and shivered in the frigid wind. “Come on, where are you?” he mumbled as he patted his trousers. “Damn it,” he groaned. “What I wouldn’t give for a Summoning Charm.”
“Hi, Harry,” his flatmate Emily said as she held the door open for him. “Did you lose your keys again?”
“No,” he ground out as he squeezed by her. “They’re here somewhere. I just have to find them.” He set his bag down and started to dig through it. “Aha,” he said as he pulled them out of the depths of his pocket. “Told you I had them.” Harry grinned at her as he grabbed his bag and stood up.
Emily shook her head, laughing. “Come on, Harry. Let’s go upstairs.”
Harry walked over to the mailboxes. “Mail first.”
“I got it when I came in earlier,” Emily said as she walked up the stairs.
“Did my book come?” Harry asked as he followed her. They walked to the first floor and down the hallway.
“No, but you got a letter.”
“A letter?”
“Yeah, it’s written on some weird parchment paper.” Harry froze as Emily opened the door and walked through. She dropped her things on the floor and plopped down onto the couch. Harry followed her in a daze, slowly closing the door behind him.
He walked into his room and dropped his bag on the floor before collapsing on the bed. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Harry? Where’d you go?” Emily called from the living room.
Harry rubbed his face in his hands as he groaned. “I’m in my room. I’m just setting my stuff down.”
“Oh, your letter’s on your desk.”
Harry sat up and stared at his desk. He scrambled off his bed and walked into the living room, flopping on the couch. He grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and started to flip through it, moving his arms to allow Emily to put her feet in his lap. “You’re not going to read it?”
“Huh, read what?” he replied, glancing up at her.
“Your letter,” she said, distractedly, her eyes glued to show on the telly.
“I’ll read it later.” He turned back to his magazine, stopping at any article that caught his attention. Admittedly, there weren’t that many, the magazine wasn’t that interesting but it was useful enough to distract him from what awaited him in his room. They sat in the comfortable silence, the quiet drone of the telly helping to drown out his thoughts.
“Are you coming out with the girls tonight?” Emily asked suddenly, reaching up and turned off the television before turning to look at him. Harry blinked at her bemusedly, racking his brain to figure out what she was talking about.
“Probably not,” he finally said when he remembered her plans to go clubbing that night. “I have to finish my paper.”
“Come on, Harry,” Emily wheedled. “You have to come. I have a new bloke I want to introduce you to.”
“Emily,” Harry said, drawing out her name in warning.
“Yes, Harry?” she squeaked, looking everywhere besides Harry. Setting down his magazine he turned to stare at her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
“Did you set me up on a blind date again?”
“No.”
Harry glared at her until she fidgeted.
“Maybe,” she finally muttered.
“Emily Morris! How many times have I told you I don’t want to date anyone right now?”
“A few times, but Harry, you need to stop pining. Go out and have fun.”
“I’m not pining,” he grumbled. “I told you then I didn’t want to date and it hasn’t changed.”
She pulled her feet out of Harry’s lap and sat up. “Look Harry, you are pining.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, but she slapped a hand over his mouth and continued. “Don’t tell me you’re not. Ever since we first met in class, I’ve watched you turn down every offer you’ve had for a date. Every time it’s the same excuse: ‘I like this bloke. I’m sorry.’ I know you don’t like to talk about it, but...” Emily paused, steeling herself. “Harry, you told me he was dead.” She pulled her hand away and sat back.
Harry paused, glancing away to stare at the carpet until his eyesight went blurry. He hated thinking about his past. Swallowing he replied: “Yeah, he is, but going on blind dates isn’t going to make me get over him.”
“Harry,” Emily implored, annoyance seeping into her voice. “It’s been five years. When are you going to let yourself move on?”
“You don’t understand, Emily. I stood there and watched him die. I couldn’t save him. I didn’t save him.”
He’s been gone for five years. Why does this still bother me? It’s not like he would even return my feelings if he had lived.
“What happened?” Emily asked. “You’ve never told me that.”
Harry walked over to the fireplace, drumming his fingers along the mantle as he collected his thoughts, trying to figure out how much he could tell her without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. “You know how I have nightmares, right?”
“Yeah, you get them pretty bad,” she replied.
Turning around and leaning against the fireplace, he caught her eye and held it. “I’m only going to tell this once, understand? It’s hard to talk about so let me tell the story and just ask your questions later.”
Emily nodded, leaning forward to hear better. “Got it. I’ll just shut up and listen.”
Sighing, Harry wondered where to start. Taking a fortifying breath he started speaking: “There was a fight between two sides that were hell bent on destroying each other.” Already he saw Emily was opening her mouth, probably in curiosity, and Harry raised his voice to answer her unspoken question. “You wouldn’t have heard about it on the telly since it never got big enough to gain national attention. It should have just been two groups fighting over which would lead the town but the leader of the other side was determined to win at any costs. He killed anyone who got in his way.”
“That’s disgusting,” Emily interjected, her hand hiding the horror etched on her face. “He wasn’t in power already, was he?”
“Yeah, I know. It was horrible.” Harry took a deep breath, folding his arms before plowing onwards. “He was trying to take over and my parents were trying to find evidence against him when he found out and had them killed. He disappeared after that and after awhile everyone thought he had died but he was just biding his time.”
“Oh Harry,” she said, compassion seeping into her voice. “I’m so sorry.” She hesitated before asking, “Is that what you have nightmares about? Your parents’ murder?”
“No, not really. They died when I was a baby.” Seeing Emily open her mouth to speak, and the sympathy in her eyes, he held up a hand to stop her, needing to finish. “Don’t. You wanted to hear this so let me finish. Anyway, there was this man who lived in my town while I was growing up, and everyone said he had been a follower of the rebel, and I thought he was. He was bad tempered, sarcastic, and just plain spiteful towards me.”
“Is this the bloke you like?” Emily interjected again, skepticism tinting her voice. She was now perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes trained unerringly on Harry.
“Yes, and I know what you’re thinking, just let me explain.
“I didn’t like him while growing up, but it all started to change when word got out that Tom was back. I was with the mayor was told, and when he called Severus to him, asking him if he was ready to go back into enemy territory.”
“So he was a spy!” Emily exclaimed, understanding infusing her voice. She drew her legs up to her chest and gripped them, staring wide-eyed at Harry, captivated by the story.
“Yes, but I didn’t believe it then,” Harry said, forcing calmness into his voice to mask his annoyance at her interruptions. “Anyway, during my last year of high school, Tom assassinated the mayor and my best friends and I fled.”
“Is this when you started to realise that – what was his name… Severus ¬– was on your side.”
“Yes,” Harry said for the third time, gritting his teeth in agitation. “While we were travelling someone kept helping us, but I didn’t think it was him.”
“How’d you find out it was him?”
“If I could finish, I’d tell you,” he said, frowning in displeasure. He did not mean to take his anger out on Emily but talking about Severus always made him restless and upset. He forced himself not to fidget, curling his fingers to stop their drumming against his folded arms. He just wanted to finish the story and move on.
“Sorry. Continue.” Emily ducked her head.
“Thank you.” Harry paused, trying to figure out how to tell the next part without bringing in Legilimency. “We got word that Tom was going to storm the government building, killing everyone as a way to draw me out.” He took a shuttering breath, shaking off the memories of the day, before continuing. “We got back, just in time for his attack. Since it was me he wanted I thought that if I gave myself up, he would leave everyone alone –”
“Harry,” she cut in, exasperated, shaking her head. Waving her hands, she stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Why do boys always believe the things they see in action films? That stuff never works in real life. They’ll just kill you and everyone else.”
“I know that now, Emily.” As much as he liked her, he hated that she could never keep her comments to herself. “Anyway, back to the story,” he said with a glare, causing Emily to throw her hands up. “So I snuck into his stronghold, and while hiding in a room, I heard voices through the cracked door. It was Tom and Severus. I thought Severus was getting commands but when I saw his bruised face and his arms bound behind his back I realised that something was wrong.” Harry was lost in the retelling, remembering every detail of the Shack and the fear he felt that day.
“I watched as Tom pulled out a knife and stabbed Severus – four or five times – in the chest and left him to bleed out.” He shut his eyes in pain, trying to force the memories aside so he wouldn’t break down. He tensed up, head hanging as he tried to take deep breaths to force himself to calm down. His twitching leg betrayed the anxiety he was feeling. He opened his eyes and stared at the floor, the events of that night flashing before his eyes as he spoke. “As much as I hated him, no one deserved that. I rushed in and when I got to Severus, he opened his eyes and stared at me, resignation in his eyes. He knew he was going to die. He kept muttering something, a litany of ‘letter, front pocket, take it,’ and when I finally reached down and did, he started apologising for not protecting me more, until he closed his eyes and stopped talking.”
At the sound of a sob, Harry looked up, seeing Emily curled up on the couch, her head buried in her knees, crying. He pulled out a tissue as he walked over to her.
“No, I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice choked with tears. She waved him away as she wiped her face. Sitting on the couch next to her, he waited until she spoke again. “How did you fall in love with him?” she asked, finally looking up again at Harry.
Harry glanced away and sighed. “The letter I had taken was instructions on how to get by Tom’s guards to kill him. Long story short, the resistance used it to kill him. After it was over, I went to Severus’ house, trying to find anything that could explain why he would be protecting me, why he would give up his life.” Harry remembered sitting for hours, after the war, watching Severus’ memories, trying to figure out the man behind the mask.
“What did you find?” Emily asked, her soft voice breaking the silence.
“Letters,” he whispered, trying but failing to mask the anguish in his voice. “Old ones from my mom from when they grew up together and, surprisingly, letters to me, explaining what he did to keep me safe. It was the first time I saw who he was and what he had given up to help us – help me. I grew to appreciate him and his sacrifice and then one day that turned to attraction.” Harry shook his head and glanced at her. “I don’t know how, and I know it’s stupid to like someone who is dead, but I can’t help it. I started to defend his memory to people who disparaged him, and I told the newspapers everything he had done to save us.”
Staring at her, the clock ticked by and silence reigned. Emily opened her mouth then closed it again, shaking her head. Minutes passed as the silence grew, becoming more uncomfortable until finally, Emily blurted out, “Harry, you have to let him go. It’s not fair to you or his memory to continue with this… this infatuation. I know you feel sorry that you did not get to know him before he died, but saving yourself for the memory of someone who is dead isn’t healthy.”
“I know that!” Harry said, frustrated with himself. “That’s why I left. I was hoping if I got away, came to the big city, I would forget about him and move on with my life. Every time I try, I see him, lying before me, dying, and even with his last breath, he was trying to help us. Help me.” Harry scrubbed his face in irritation. “I can’t stop thinking about how heroic he was. How even though the people in the town hated him, he still did everything he could – died for us – so that we could all be safe. This isn’t something I can just turn off. I’ve tried.”
He cradled his head in his hands, trying to compel himself to forget about Severus. A hand on his shoulder forced him to look up.
“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” Emily tentatively offered. “Just to try. You don’t have to do anything but meet my friend and talk a little. Maybe this time something will happen, but if it doesn’t, at least it’s a step in the right direction.”
Staring into her light brown eyes, Harry shook his head. “I can’t. It’s too close tonight.” Memories of the event battered his mind. “I’m going to my room. Have fun,” he whispered as he walked out of the room, curling up on his bed with his back towards his desk.
Why did this have to happen now? Trying desperately not to think of the letter and all that it reminded him of, he forced himself to clear his mind.
Harry jerked awake, panting harshly as the last remnants of his nightmare faded. Glancing around, his heart slowed as he realised he was safe in his room. Peering at the clock on his dresser, he groaned when he saw the late hour. “1:30,” he thought as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, perching his glasses on his face. Shaking his head when he realised he had fallen asleep in his clothes, he climbed off the bed to change, walking towards his closet, pulling his shirt off as he went.
“Damn it,” he mumbled as his shirt knocked his glasses off, and felt along the floor for them, jamming them on his face as he stood . He froze when his gaze landed upon his desk, barely able to make out the edge of the letter in the darkness. “Just pick it up and throw it out, Harry,” he said, his determination faltering with the hesitancy in his voice. Shaking his head, he walked over to the desk and picked up the letter, pulling his rubbish bin out to discard it. Dangling the letter over the bin, he hesitated.
What if it’s important?
With a groan, he fell back on his bed. He sighed and glanced down at the unopened letter in his hand as he tapped it against his leg, debating whether he should open it. Don’t open it, he thought to himself. You gave up that life years ago.
But what if it’s important?
After the first year, they stopped trying to contact me. Why would they contact me now, four years later?
Harry mumbled to himself as he fingered the parchment. “Just throw it out, Harry. You left for a reason. You’re happy without magic.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the closet before he could stop himself. You may be able to lie to everyone else but you can’t lie to me, his inner voice cackled. He ached to do magic, to pick up his wand from the box he had laid it in when he had left the wizarding world. Just because you shoved the box in your closet does not mean that you don’t remember it’s there.
Harry groaned as he dragged his gaze away from the closet. He put his head into his hands and gripped his hair. “Why is this so hard?”
Because you know you want it. You want to go back to the wizarding world – to magic, to your friends. Open the letter, Harry.
Harry stared at his hands. He took a deep breath and pulled open the envelope. As he took out the letter, he did not notice a scrap of paper falling to the floor. The letter plucked itself out of his fingers and floated in the air, a soft voice, seemingly from nowhere, filled the room.
Dear Mr. Potter,
You are cordially invited to the Remembrance Ball commemorating the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Five years ago, You-Know-Who’s reign of terror ended. After months of searching we finally captured and convicted all of his former allies. For five years the wizarding world has lived in harmony and has rebuilt itself to be stronger than ever.
The Remembrance Ball will take place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on 20 December, 2003. Please arrive by 6 pm for the start of the event. RSVP no later than 1 December, 2003. Place your RSVP in the envelope provided.
Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic
Order of Merlin, 2nd Class
Harry closed his eyes in pain as he remembered that day – the shouts, the fear, the anger, the dead. He glanced up as the letter fell to the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he froze as he saw the scrap of parchment on the floor. He hesitantly reached out and picked up the parchment, running his thumb over the familiar handwriting.
Hermione, he thought. He read the two lines in trepidation.
Please come, Harry. We miss you.
Harry bit his lip. Think of all you have missed. Hermione… Ron… Teddy. You haven’t seen you godson since he was born.
Stop it, he cried to his inner voice.
You’re not happy and you know it.
Harry cradled his head in his hands. I don’t want to go back there. It holds too many memories.
At least go to make peace. You’ll never be able to move on if you don’t lay him to rest.
“Shut up,” Harry said out loud.
No.
Yes.
I’ll shut up if you go.
“Fine,” Harry growled. “I’ll go.” At his desk he grabbed a piece of paper and stared at it, trying to figure out what to say. He bit his lip and wrote:
Harry Potter. RSVPing to the Remembrance Ball.
Harry folded the letter and picked up the envelope. Before he could to talk himself out of it, he stuffed the letter in and closed the flap. A chime reverberated – sounding as if it were coming from the room itself – as words appeared across the flap.
RSVP received.
Harry stared at the message, wondering what he had got himself into. He set the envelope aside and walked to his closet. He dug in it until he pulled free a battered box. Crossing to the bed, he sat down and ran his hands reverently over the lid. At last, he lifted the top off the box and gazed down at his wand.
“Five years,” he whispered as he lifted out his wand. His magic flared as he swished his wand.
“Welcome back to the wizarding world, Harry.”
Harry walked through Hogwarts’ halls, lost in his memories of the Final Battle. He could hear the spells going off, the yelling of the fighters, the screams of the dying. Outside of the Great Hall, he stopped, working up the courage to walk through. He stood there, just listening to the sound of laughter and cutlery clinking. You have to do this. Harry took a deep breath and pushed open the door… and froze as everyone turned to look at him.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Is that Harry Potter? He hasn’t been seen in years.”
Harry glanced around, barely taking in the decorations. Where’s Hermione? he thought frantically.
“Harry,” he heard. That sounded like Hermione, he thought, as he glanced around, smiling when he saw her stand up. She looked different, more worldly, but the same old Hermione that he remembered.
“Hermione?” he asked as he started to walk towards her. She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. As he got closer, she ran towards him and engulfed him a hug.
“Harry,” she murmured into his chest. He held her and breathed in her scent. Another touch on his shoulder caused him to look up.
“Ron,” he said as he moved to hug him. “Merlin, I’ve missed you.”
Ron squeezed him before pulling back and punching Harry in the arm.
“Ow,” Harry said, rubbing the sting away.
“That’s what you get for leaving and not keeping in contact with us. We’re your best friends.”
“I know, Ron. I just needed to get away. I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”
Ron peered at Harry, studying him, as if to see if he was serious. When he had looked his fill, he said, “Just as long as you don’t do it again.” Harry shook his head and hugged him again.
“Mr. Potter, we’re glad you could join us.” Harry glanced up to reply, looking along the head table, freezing when he saw the person sitting next to the Minister. The lank hair, sallow skin and beaky nose – he would recognise that profile anywhere.
“G – Glad to be here, Minister,” he said weakly, eyes locked on Severus. Flicking his eyes towards Ron, he lowered his voice. “Wha – what’s he doing here?”
Ron snorted when he saw who Harry was staring at. “Who, Snape? He somehow survived Nagini’s bite. Only the Minister knows how. He won’t tell anyone else.” Harry could feel Ron’s questioning gaze but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Severus. “Why do you care?”
“Because… I thought he was dead.” Harry knew he was probably paling but he couldn’t stop staring—more people were surely going to notice him, notice how haunted he probably looked. By sheer force of will, Harry yanked his eyes away before speaking in a hollow voice: “He gave up so much for the war effort. I always thought we could have done something more instead of just leaving him to die.” Harry shook his head to chase away the demons and looked up, smiling weakly to placate Ron.
Ron smiled back, hesitantly, in a smile that looked more like a grimace. Uncertainly flashed across his face. “Let’s not think about it right now, Harry. We were only children – and he lived even without our help.”
They gazed at each other for a few moments, the awkward silence growing. Ron shifted uncomfortably before changing the subject. “Let’s sit down. Hermione and I want to know what has been going on with you.” They walked over to the table, Hermione flicking her wand to move her chair over, conjuring another one in its place. Harry sat down and let the memories wash over him. It was like being back at Hogwarts – sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing with Hermione and Ron – before their lives started revolving around the war.
He shook off the memories and spent the rest of dinner catching up with Ron and Hermione. He always kept Severus in the corner of his eye, glancing up periodically at him throughout dinner just to prove he’d not been a figment of Harry’s imagination all along – a ghost come back to life.
Severus stared at the boy – no, man – as he glanced up at him again. He looks happier than he did when he walked in. He’s actually smiling. Severus mentally smacked himself. Why am I noticing if he smiles or not?
That’s not the only thing you are noticing, he inner voice said slyly.
I haven’t seen him since he left. I am just noticing the changes five years wrought.
He doesn’t look like a starved waif anymore. He’s finally filled out. It looks good on him, don’t you think?
Severus could practically hear the smirk in that sentence. Before he could reprimand himself further, the Minister stood and tapped his goblet.
“Thank you all for coming. Five years ago, our world was on the brink of destruction. Through the combined efforts of the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, and the students and staff of Hogwarts, the light side prevailed. The wizarding world has entered into a new era, one of peace and harmony. While we have had five years of peace, we will always remember the people that could not be here. We toast to those that gave their lives for our safety. As you raise your glasses please say the names of those we’ve lost.” Kingsley raised his glass and murmured, “Albus Dumbledore,” before drinking his champagne.
Everyone raised their glasses and toasted to the fallen heroes. As Severus stood and raised his glass, he locked eyes with Harry. “Lily Evans, Albus Dumbledore,” he said, his voice hoarse as he spoke around the lump in his throat. Six years later, and he still would not forgive himself for killing his mentor. He downed the glass, never taking his eyes off Harry, reading his lips as he raised his glass and toasted to the fallen heroes. They continued to stare at each other until Skacklebolt raised his hand for silence.
“This is a time for remembrance and a time for celebration.” He pulled his wand out and flicked it in the air, signalling the start of the music. “I know they are all looking down as we take this new turn in our history. Let the dancing begin.”
Clapping politely, Severus waited until people started to move before stalking off from the Head Table.
Harry watched as Severus left, wondering where he was going.
“Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry glanced at them. “Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Harry glanced over to where Severus had disappeared. “I’m fine. You guys go dance, and I’ll catch up with you later. There is something I need to do.” Harry walked off in the direction that Severus had went.
Harry walked through the door after Severus and ventured down the hallway, peering into the shadows for Severus. When he reached the Entrance Hall, he groaned at the three paths to take.
If I were Severus Snape, where would I go, dungeons, upstairs, or outside?
“Dungeons,” he said, with a nod. He’d started towards the dungeons, but paused as he walked past the outside door.
It’s open, he thought, as he pushed the door further open. His breath caught as he stared out across the grounds; they were covered in snow, lit by the moonlight. He slowly walked outside, captivated by the scene.
“Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured as Harry walked past a corner. Harry jumped and spun around to stare at him.
Harry gulped. “Professor, it’s good to see you again.”
“I’m not your professor anymore,” Severus said as he stepped out of the shadows into the dim light.
“What should I call you then?” Harry said. “Severus?”
“That will suffice, Mr. Potter.”
“It’s Harry.”
Severus glanced calculatingly at Harry before pursing his lips. “Harry, then. If that is what you prefer.”
“Yes!” Harry said, a little too enthusiastically. Severus raised his eyebrow, causing Harry to flush. “Um, I mean, yeah,” he said more sedately.
Severus smirked. “I see your vocabulary has not improved.” Harry flushed deeper and glanced down.
Great. He still thinks of me as a schoolboy, Harry berated himself. The first time I see him – the first time I find out he’s alive – and I make a fool of myself.
Harry opened his mouth, shook his head, and closed it.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” He licked his lips as he looked away.
Hearing Severus’ clear his throat, Harry glanced up. “None of that, Harry.”
“I don’t want to annoy you, and I was told you won’t answer anyway,” he said.
“Just ask, Potter.” Severus drummed his fingers along his arm as he waited for Harry to reply.
“How did you survive?” Harry whispered.
Severus inhaled sharply. “Well, that is invasive,” Severus murmured.
“You don’t have to answer,” Harry replied quickly.
“I’m surprised you have not figured it out.”
Harry cocked his head and looked at Severus curiously.
“I would have thought that you would remember that particular lesson. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?*” Harry’s eyes widened as he flushed.
“Oh… I should have thought of that.” Why is it that he can make me a babbling, blushing schoolboy? I’m better than this, Harry scolded himself again before clearing his throat. “How has no one figured that out?”
“There was no way you could have known. You needed to think I had died so you would believe my memories. As for why no one has figured it out, I think you should know that people believe what they want or what they are told in the paper. They want to believe I performed a Dark Arts ritual to come back. They choose to ignore the obvious solution – I am the foremost Potions master in the United Kingdom.”
Harry chuckled lightly. “Of course. Why don’t you answer when people ask you, though? Trying to be mysterious?” Harry grinned cheekily at Severus. He froze as he stared at Severus, watching his lip twitch. He looked like he’s going to smile. I wonder what he would look like if he did. Harry bit his lip imagining it, sighing as he forced himself to remember that just because he liked Severus did not mean that Severus liked him.
“Perhaps,” Severus replied.
Harry flicked his eyes up at Severus, eyes widening as he watched a myriad of emotions flit over Severus’ face, too fast for him to catch. He wondered what he was thinking.
“Though he should do it more often,” Severus said suddenly.
“What?” Harry asked, breaking Severus out of his thoughts. Severus looked at Harry quizzically.
“I didn’t say anything,” Severus replied.
“You – you said I should do it more often. Do what?” Harry peered at Severus, trying to discern what he was thinking.
“I did not,” Severus said, the slight quiver in his voice betraying the stoic look on his face. If Harry had not been paying close attention to him, he would have missed it.
“Yes, you did.”
Severus glanced away, and growled out a warning. “I think you are mistaken, Mr. Potter.”
“It’s Harry…and I don’t think I am. What should I do more often?”
“Leave it,” Severus groused.
“No. What should I do?”
Severus looked up and locked eyes with Harry. Neither wanted to give in first. “I—”
“Harry!” The moment was broken as they both turned to look at Ron. “This is where you went,” Ron said as he drew level with them. He glanced uncomfortably at Severus. “Snape,” he said with a nod.
“Weasley,” Severus replied. He turned to Harry and murmured, “Mr. Potter, I must take my leave. It was… surprisingly… pleasant to see you.” Severus turned to stalk back into the castle.
Harry stared after him in shock. “Wait,” Harry called out after him, “you never answered my question.”
Severus paused and glanced over his shoulder at Harry. “It does not matter.”
Harry brushed Ron off with a quick “I’ll be with you in a moment.” He walked towards Severus as Ron looked on, perplexed.
“I think it does, Severus.”
“Potter—”
“Harry, remember. How many times do I have to remind you?” Harry glanced at Severus, trying to see behind his impenetrable mask.
“Harry,” Severus conceded with a sigh. “It does not matter.”
“Why not?”
“We live in different worlds. We have a – history – a bad history. You have your life and I have mine.”
“You’ve never hid the truth from me before. You were always quite brutal with your statements.” Harry stared at Severus imploringly.
“Fine,” Severus ground out. “You should smile more. You’re too young to look as old as you do. It makes you look younger – happier. Your—” Severus grimaced. “Your face lights up.”
“You noticed that?” Harry asked, trying to quash the hopeful feeling rising in his heart.
“I’m sure half of your adoring fans noticed it as well, Potter.” Severus sneered half-heartedly and turned to walk through the doorway.
“It’s Harry,” he corrected, smiling . Severus grunted in acknowledgement, freezing at Harry’s next words. “You should smile more too, Severus.”
“Why would I do that?” Severus replied, after a brief pause.
“Because I like seeing you smile… well… half-smile. You never allow yourself to smile fully. You do this half-smirk, half-smile thing that makes you look like you have a secret that no one else knows.”
Severus turned to face Harry, scanning his face carefully. Before he could reply, Harry cut in.
“This was fun, Severus. I never realised how much I missed the wizarding world until I got back… what?” Harry asked as he noticed Severus was staring at him, a question hidden in his eyes.
“Why did you run off to the Muggle world?”
“If you want to know what is happening in my life, owl me.” Harry stared at Severus challengingly.
“Owl you,” Severus scoffed. “Why would I want to know about your life? I am no longer your professor and you left our world.”
“I left because it was the only place where I could be normal.”
“Mr. Potter, no matter how much the public idolised you or mobbed you in Diagon Alley” – Harry’s eyes widened at the statement – “or treated you like you were Merlin reincarnate, you were – are – normal.”
Harry smiled. “Fame isn’t everything*,” Harry muttered, remembering his first Potions class.
Severus grimaced, possibly in remembrance of that very lesson. “No, it is not.”
Harry glanced at Severus. “Thank you.” At Severus’ cocked eyebrow, he continued. “For never seeing me as the Boy-Who-Lived – for treating me like you would any other student.” At Severus’ raised eyebrow and disbelieving snort he continued, “Ok, so maybe not like any other student. But the one thing I could rely on was you making my life hell and not treating me like a saviour.”
“Normal?” Severus sputtered. “You must be delusional if you think that’s normal.”
“Then I’m delusional.” Turning around and walking back to where he’d left Ron, he called over his shoulder. “Good night, Severus. I’ll wait two weeks for your owl.”
“You already answered my question. I have no need to owl you.”
Harry caught Severus’ eye. “That wasn’t the only reason why I left. If you want to find out, you have two weeks.” He watched as Severus stood there for a moment before stalking back into the castle.
“What was that? You’re going to owl Snape!” Ron exclaimed as he turned to stare in half-disbelief, half-disgust at Harry.
Harry glanced at Ron. “It’s nothing, Ron. Come on, let’s go find Hermione.” Harry walked up the stairs and through the door. As Ron rushed to catch up, Harry smiled to himself. Who would have thought Severus and I could have a conversation. Now all he has to do is owl me.
Harry walked down the street, whistling tunelessly as he dug through his coat pockets for his keys. He pulled them out and walked into his building, stopping in the entrance to check the mail. He sighed when he saw the empty mailbox, his mood ruined as he closed it and trudged up the stairs. It’s been two weeks, he thought dejectedly. Maybe he really didn’t want to get to know me.
He pushed open his door and called out to Emily, “I’m home.” He walked into his room and dropped his bag on his bed.
“Hey, Harry,” Emily called from the kitchen. “You got another one of those weird letters. It’s on your desk.” Harry stared at his desk before rushing over to open the letter. He wrote to me, he exclaimed internally as he spied the spiky handwriting.
Harry ripped open the letter and proceeded to read it.
Dear Mr. Potter,
You alluded to another reason about why you left our world and I wish to know what it is. The public worshiping at the bottom of the pedestal they placed you on should not have been enough to drive you away. You have dealt with public adoration before and the Gryffindor Golden Boy I knew never backed down from a challenge.
Seeing as you live in the Muggle world and knowing that you were never the studious one in your Gryffindor trio, I have included the address to which your return letter can be delivered by Muggle means.
Sincerely,
Professor Snape
Potions Master, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Chuckling lightly at the letter, Harry pulled out a piece of paper to reply. He smirked as he started to write.
Dear Severus,
It’s Harry, remember.
