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Who Can Live Without It, I Ask In All Honesty?	By : Originella Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 1512 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowling; I'm merely creating the scenarios. No money is being made from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Who Can Live Without It, I Ask In All Honesty?
- 1
Harry slammed the front door of Grimmauld Place shut and trudged into the kitchen, his carrier bag gripped in his hand. He placed the shopping rather roughly on the kitchen island and placed his head into his hands; he’d known from the beginning that dating someone that he’d gone to school with could’ve been complicated, potentially, but he’d never believed that the person would’ve used him the way she had. When he’d caught Ginny snogging Viktor Krum in the Gryffindor common room during the late-November get-together at Hogwarts, just last evening, he’d never believed that such a thing as not being with his childhood sweetheart forever would come to pass, and the ensuing argument hadn’t helped matters either.
“You’ve been so distant for months, Harry!” Ginny had cried out when he’d stormed away from her snogging session with the pro-Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker. She crossed her arms, her ample cleavage doing nothing for him as it crept upwards, towards the oval neckline of her beautiful brown blouse. “Remember my birthday?”
Harry, who had immediately stormed out of the common room and up the spiral staircase of the astronomy tower, was focusing mainly on his breathing, the hot breath itself turning into puffy-like clouds which remained suspended in the air before flying skyward and dying off. He remembered her birthday all too well; her seventeenth birthday had been celebrated at the Burrow, just weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, and everyone seemed content, despite the fact that Fred was no longer with them. “Yeah, I remember,” Harry replied at last, his tone bitter.
“Well,” Ginny went on, tossing her great mane of red hair, “if you recall correctly, you not only neglected to bring my birthday present, but you didn’t even partake in the festivities. If you were feeling so down, perhaps you shouldn’t have shown up at all.”
Harry gripped the stone pillar of the astronomy tower; it was a beautiful late-autumn night upon the grounds of Hogwarts, despite the fact that thick clouds threatened to block out the stars. “You know full well that Ron and Hermione would never have allowed that,” he said softly.
“Be that as it may,” Ginny continued, “you haven’t even made an effort to discuss our future since the war ended. I mean, you took your NEWT’s with Ron and Hermione during the summer months, and you and Ron joined the Auror Academy just as September came knocking. Your academic and professional futures have been settled. What about your romantic ones?” She stepped forward then, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Could it be possible, Harry, that you and I aren’t what the other needs, and that we haven’t been, not for a long time?”
Harry felt a lump quickly rising in his throat then, and peered over at Ginny, green meeting brown as she looked at him in a sympathetic manner. “Gin…”
“I said your past didn’t matter to me, none of it did,” Ginny told him quickly. “You just never seemed to want me to—”
“That’s enough, Ginny,” Harry said, cutting across her; he really didn’t want to talk about this, not right now.
“Harry,” she said, “you know, it wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t...you know, into me, like that,” she assured him. “The main thing here is to be honest with yourself. Think about what you want, and just take it.”
Harry nibbled at his bottom lip. “Yeah…”
“It’s not me, then, is it?” she wanted to know. “It’s not me that you want. I think if we were what the other wanted, then I wouldn’t want Viktor, and you wouldn’t be so reluctant to discuss any potential future between us.”
Harry shook his head. “A life with you... It’s not what I want, Gin. I’m sorry.”
Ginny nodded. “I’m sorry, too,” she told him, before pressing a kiss onto his cheek and leaving the scene, leaving Harry to grip onto the stone ledge and stare out at the school grounds, feeling more alone than ever.
~*~
In the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry spent the vast majority of his time in the hospital wing, constantly refusing interviews, invitations from the Weasley family to come to the Burrow, or even from Ginny, who desperately wanted to rekindle their romance. Instead, Harry was waiting anxiously for Snape to wake up, and had hardly moved since his arrival, and only spoke to Madam Pomfrey, who broke typical protocol, and reluctantly permitted Harry some insight on his former professor’s progress.
Since Harry had seen the older man’s memories firsthand, he knew that it was because of his potion professor’s sacrifices that he had defeated Voldemort in the first place. At the very least, he owed the man a thank you, despite his status as a former enemy, as he had risked everything he had in order to keep him safe, after all this time. All would be forgiven, Harry decided, because second chances were what Albus prided himself upon, so perhaps, Harry could afford this man one as well.
Finally, after two weeks, the man finally awoke, and Harry stared down into the onyx eyes and, for a moment, he was speechless.
“Kneazle got your tongue, Potter?” Snape asked.
“N-no, sir,” Harry managed to get out.
Snape moved like he wanted to sit up, and Harry hastily got to his feet, fluffing the professor’s phoenix-feather pillows and making sure he was comfortable. “Is he dead?”
Harry didn’t even need to question Snape as to who he meant. “Yes, sir.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks, sir. Madam Pomfrey put you into a magically-induced coma to bring you up to a proper weight, as well as to completely heal what he and his snake did to you.”
“Is Nagini…?”
“Neville killed her,” Harry told him.
Snape shifted slightly in his bed, bringing up the duvet so that it rested just below his middle chest, and regarded Harry for a moment of confusion. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been sitting there all this time?”
Harry nodded. “Yes. Cushioning Charms work wonders when you know what you’re doing,” he joked, and smacked his hand against the chair he’d been occupying.
Snape considered that for a moment, before he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Why would you even bother being here, Potter, after everything I put you through?”
“Your memories, sir,” Harry told him, serious once again. “When you gave me your memories, I was able to finally understand where you were coming from. Your love for my mother… Well, suffice it to say, it all made sense. You hating my father, and transferring that hatred onto me, as I was, am, a physical representation of their love…”
“Hate,” Snape said, and shook his head. “I do not hate you, Potter.”
Harry blinked; of all things for his former professor to say, he’d not expected that. “No?” he asked, and found that his voice came out as a slight squeak.
“I do not hate you, Potter,” the man repeated.
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, before reaching into his pocket, and bringing out a glass phial and handing it over to him. When the man looked questioningly up at him, Harry said, “They’re your memories, sir. Kingsley, he’s been made interim Minister of Magic, has already looked at them, and has held your trial before the Wizengamot. You’re free,” he said softly.
Snape turned the phial over and over in his hand. “Free?” he whispered.
Harry nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, and couldn’t mistake the feeling of his heart somersaulting all the way down into his stomach when the man looked up at him again. “You’re free.”
~*~
Back in his kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Harry mechanically proceeded to put away his shopping; produce in the fruit basket, meats and cheeses in the fridge, bread in the bread box, soup tins in the pantry, vegetables in the crisper, and a bottle of Firewhiskey into the cupboard. He considered breaking open the bottle now, but it was barely into the afternoon, and he didn’t fancy getting sloshed so early in the day, no matter what the circumstances. Once he’d finished filing away his shopping, he ventured into the expansive living room, and found his owl, Marcella, busily preening upon her finely-carved perch.
“Hello, girl,” he said, and the Boreal owl hooted back in greeting.
Harry crossed the room and observed his post, which had been left on the highly-polished, cherry wood dining table, which was only reserved for dinner parties, of which Harry had few. There was a note from Hermione, reminding him to keep his schedule up-to-date for the various Ministry of Magic functions, now that it was December; a letter from Ron, letting him know that George would be in touch soon about his shares for the month in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes; numerous invitations for upcoming Christmas parties; a missive from Professor McGonagall, begging him to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship at Hogwarts, since the former instructor, Professor Agnor, had been stricken with Dragon Pox, and had decided to retire; and, finally, much to his surprise, a letter from Severus Snape himself.
Harry hadn’t spoken much to his former potions professor, after the man had miraculously survived Nagini’s bite, due to Hermione’s anti-venom knowledge, and a healthy dosage of Essence of Dittany. Snape had returned to his former position of potions master for, now that the war was over, he seemed not to want to take any chances from the Dark Arts. As it happened, he had served no time in Azkaban, due to Harry quickly showing newly-elected Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt the pensieve, and Snape was declared innocent on all charges of murder of former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and was found to be a spy for the side of the Light by the Wizengamot all along.
After looking through Hermione, Ron, and Professor McGonagall’s letters, Harry painstakingly opened the one which was from Professor Snape. Ever since he’d woken up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and Harry had returned his memories to him, there had seemed to be zero animosity between former professor and student. In fact, Professor Snape had given Harry tutelage in anything he didn’t already know in potions, so much so that Harry had gotten an O in the subject upon test day in his NEWT’s.

Dear Mr. Potter,
The infernal old tabby has mentioned yet again in our final staff meeting for the season of autumn that former Professor Agnor will not recover from his bout of Dragon Pox. Apparently the man, who attended Hogwarts at the same time as Albus and Elphias Doge, caught Dragon Pox from Doge itself at the time. However, the symptoms remained dormant for quite some time, a most fascinating case, if I do say so myself, and were not present until the beginning of term. The man believed, wrongly, that he could carry on teaching, despite everything.
Poppy received quite a few Howlers from concerned parents about their children coming down with the illness; thankfully, the younger you are when afflicted, the easier treatment can be, as one’s immune system unsurprisingly weakens as one gets older. As such, Minerva thought it best to send Professor Agnor packing, which means that the defense position is open.
If I’m not mistaken, your O grade for defense, and the practical and written exam results, were some of the best that Hogwarts has received in years, and you should be very proud. I have also heard reports, not from The Daily Prophet, as who in their right mind would read that dreadful rag anyway, that you seem to be dissatisfied with your work within the Auror Department. To be fair, my report was from Kingsley himself, and even he, as a former auror himself, would know the feelings of one within his former department.
You are the best qualified to take on the position of the defense professorship, Harry, and although I am hardly in a position to demand things from you, given that your gumption saved me from a potential life sentence in Azkaban, I do hope you will consider this a piece of friendly advice. Perhaps you can put an end to the perceived curse on the position once and for all, for if you only can defeat You-Know-Who for good, perhaps only you can only defeat this curse.
Please have a Happy Christmas, if I do not see you before the holidays.

Sincerely,
Severus Snape, Potions Master

Harry was quite shocked that Snape would even bother to stay in touch with him; he recalled their few conversations, since their final blow-up in the wake of his NEWT’s. However, in all his years witnessing conversations wherein the potions master was a part of, Snape had only seemed marginally polite when addressing Albus Dumbledore. As he put the letter aside and summoned his calendar with a quick Accio, Harry recalled that the Hogwarts Christmas party was on the books for Christmas Eve, and that he’d sent his invitation of acceptance no later than Halloween, over a month previously. Of course, at the time, the acceptance had been involving Ginny’s agreement to attend with him.
Putting the thought of being single once again out of his mind, Harry attempted to ignore the front page headline of The Daily Prophet, which he’d seen in Diagon Alley, during his shopping earlier that day. It had proclaimed, Weasley Girl Overthrows Boy-Who-Lived in Wake of Secret Affair with Bulgarian Bon-Bon by Rita Skeeter. Harry had wanted to throw a quick Incendio upon it, but knew quite well that some passerby around there would’ve quickly cast a Finite upon his efforts, not to mention take numerous shots of the Boy-Who-Lived taking out his rage upon the rag itself, so his thought process did no good.
Pushing himself up from the table, Harry summoned a self-writing quill, and dictated a quick note to Snape, letting him know that he would schedule a meeting with Minerva forthwith, as he was indeed unhappy. What he was careful not to put into the letter, however, was his unhappiness with everything these days, and his breakup with Ginny the evening before had almost nothing to do with it. Hermione had always known about Harry’s crush on the Half-Blood Prince, so the notion that his former sixteen-year-old self had never grown out of it, or had really fancied girls in general, seemed to be the wake-up call of the century.
As soon as Marcella had taken the note and flown off into the crisp, late-autumn day, Harry moved towards the fireplace, and, upon kneeling, the flames turned green. “Headmistress’ Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Harry called into them, and the flames roared immediately to life, as Harry waited for the reply.
Minerva McGonagall’s head appeared almost immediately in the flames, and her eyes registered shock as she met Harry’s face. “Harry, what is it? Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Everything is fine, ma’am,” he replied, never one to forget his manners, for the Dursley’s had taught him well, in that respect. “I wanted to let you know that I got your letter this afternoon, as my owl had the good sense to bring it to me quickly.”
Minerva blinked, looking surprised. “Well, I wrote it only last evening, so your Marcella flies at quite a steady clip, then,” she said, an approving nod following suit. “Are you fire-calling me to give me your refusal?”
“Actually, no,” Harry told her, shaking his head. “I’m fire-calling you to accept.”
Minerva looked shell-shocked for a moment. “Pardon me?”
“I’m fire-calling you to accept your offer of employment as your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Harry explained carefully to his former Head of House. “Snape wrote me as well. Apparently, Kingsley informed him that he knew about my displeasure within the Auror Department. Ron doesn’t know yet, but I handed in my resignation last night. I don’t know what Robards will do, once he finds out for himself, but I think the Wizarding World owes me a favor or two…”
Minerva chuckled slightly at that. “Perhaps the Sorting Hat had it right, Harry. You would have done well in Slytherin.”
“Perhaps, but we’ll never really know one way or the other, will we?” Harry queried with a slight shrug.
“No, I suppose not,” Minerva allowed.
Harry sat back on his haunches then, considering the predicament he had found himself in for a moment, knowing just how to solve it entirely. “Will the castle be able to accommodate me by this evening?” he asked. “I would like to get a jump start on settling in, and perusing Professor Agnor’s future lesson plans, so as the class won’t go by the wayside…”
“Hogwarts shall always be able to accommodate a professor, Harry,” Minerva told him with a quick smile. “When will you arrive?”
“Likely before dinner,” Harry informed her. “Marcella’s out posting a letter for me, at Hogwarts, so if you see her, kindly tell her to go to the owlery.”
Minerva nodded. “Yes, of course,” she told him. “Will you be needing any assistance with packing your things?”
“I should think not, thank you,” Harry assured her. “I would rather just get it done on my own. I suppose that way I know where everything is.”
Minerva smiled. “Very well. Shall you be Apparating to the gates, or would you like me to leave my Floo open for your arrival?”
“The latter, if you would,” Harry said softly. “Apparition still makes me ill.”
“Of course, of course. Well, once you arrive, we can discuss contract negotiations formerly. And Harry?” she said, wanting to catch him before he closed the connection.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Welcome back to Hogwarts,” she said, and closed the connection herself.
~*~
June followed after May, as it always did, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione began studying for their NEWT’s in earnest, so as to do as well as possible on their exams. Harry found that, no matter how much he read, or how much Hermione attempted to quiz him, or from Ron’s constant support, that he just couldn’t wrap his head around potions. The last year or so had been spent on the Horcrux hunt, as well as figuring out how to kill Voldemort, so suffice it to say, potions was the furthest thing from his mind.
In order to clear his head, Harry left his studying session with Ron and Hermione in the Hogwarts library early, and walked down one corridor and then the other. Finally, he found himself in the dungeons of the school and, taking a chance, knocked at Professor Snape’s door, and waited. At last, the door came open, and the man stared down at him.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Harry said with a bright smile.
“Quite,” Snape replied. “Now, what is it?”
Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Potions.”
Snape blinked. “Potions?”
“I can’t do it,” Harry said at last, and showed Professor Snape his practice exam for the practical portion of the NEWT, and hung his head. “No matter what I do, all the facts just seem to jumble together in my mind…” He hesitated. “I suppose now you want to laugh at me, and sneer, and inform me that I’m the bloody Chosen One, and I should be able to complete a simple exam like this…”
Snape sighed, looking over the work he’d handed over. “I can see now that my behavior in years past was, shall we say, more than a little atrocious,” he said, and Harry’s head snapped up. “I suppose that, provided that you don’t ask me idiotic questions, and treat me civilly, I shall aspire to do the same, during our tutoring sessions.”
Harry’s mouth went dry. “You… You would help me?”
“Honestly, Potter, who better?” Snape asked him. “Slughorn has retired, and believe you me, he was more into favoritism than actual learning anyhow.”
Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I agree, sir.”
“Very well, then. Come.” Snape’s robes snapped as he turned around, and Harry rushed to follow him, the door to his classroom slamming shut behind him. However, Snape kept right on walking, and moved towards a door opposite the classroom supply closet, and revealed his inner rooms, much to Harry’s shock. “Sit,” Snape ordered, and the pair of them sat down on his couch, which had clearly seen better days, but was, nevertheless, comfortable. “Now then, we’ll start off easy, Potter. Explain to me the benefits of the Wolfsbane Potion.”
Harry blinked, confused as to why Snape would deliberately choose a question that he knew the answer to, but decided to go with it and not complain, for, all in all, in this moment, he was actually attempting to help him. “The drinker must transform into a werewolf upon the occasion of the full moon, and this will prevent pain during said transformation. While it relieves the symptoms of lycanthropy, it does not cure it.”
“Very good. Now, in Wolfsbane, tell me the one ingredient that should never, under any circumstances, be used within it.”
“Sugar,” Harry told him. “It renders the potion useless, despite its reported taste being rather disgusting in nature.”
Snape looked slightly amused at this, and continued with his questions. After he drilled Harry for a good two hours, with Harry managing to take clear notes during that time, Snape nodded his head. “I believe that is enough for today.” He handed Harry his practice exam back, and Harry returned it to his bag. “Tea, Potter?”
Harry blinked owlishly, but nodded. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”
Snape gave a slight nod and went towards his miniscule kitchenette, spelling the water to boil within the ancient-looking kettle and readying two teacups. “Will Earl Grey suffice?”
Harry smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Once Snape had returned to the living area with their tea, he handed the spare mug to Harry, and resumed sitting across from him. “So, do you and Mr. Weasley still intend to work for the Auror Academy upon completion of your NEWT’s?”
Harry nodded, blowing on his tea. “That was the plan, yes.”
“Looking forward to it?”
Harry sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. I think now, I’m still relieved that, despite everything, I’m alive… I… I’m unsure if I should be.”
“Survivor’s guilt.”
Harry straightened up then. “Sorry?”
“It is a clear-cut case of survivor’s guilt, Potter,” Snape told him. “You didn’t tell anyone that they had to fight with you; they volunteered, or you asked them. The decision was their own. You are not responsible for their deaths.”
Harry leaned back on the couch then. “I suppose I never considered that anyone was to blame but me,” he said frankly.
“Well, it is over now,” Snape told him. “I suppose that you and Miss Weasley are now joined at the hip again?”
Harry swallowed a sip of tea. “I know that she wants us to be, but…”
“Yes, Potter?”
“I don’t know if I want to be,” he admitted.
“Take some time if you’re unsure about things,” Snape advised. “Rushing into a relationship when you’re unsure would mean the worst for both of you.”
“I shall take that to heart, sir,” Harry said, and smiled broadly at him, which caused Snape to look shocked. “Thank you.”
~*~
Once Harry had finished packing and gone to Hogwarts via Minerva McGonagall’s Floo, they had a relatively relaxing meeting about contract negotiations over tea and biscuits. Once Harry had fantastically negotiated a raise of two hundred more Galleons per month, he concluded the meeting, and Minerva handed him Professor Agnor’s lesson plans for the start of the second term, for Harry to go over in his new rooms.
“Now, have you got everything you need?” Minerva asked.
“Yes, I think so, Minerva,” Harry assured her.
Minerva smiled indulgently at Harry, cradling his belongings carefully in his arms, along with Professor Agnor’s lesson plans. “You know that the house-elves are one call away, should you need them.”
“Actually, I would like to employ Winky as my official liaison, if that’s all right with you, of course,” Harry said quickly.
Minerva nodded. “Of course. Winky?”
Winky appeared then, her silver eyes wide. “Headmistress Minnie has called for Winky?” she asked, and turned, upon seeing Harry there as well. “Great Master Harry Potter, sir!” she trilled, obviously quite pleased with the turn of events.
“Winky, good to see you,” Harry told her softly. “I have asked Headmistress McGonagall if I could employ your services as my official liaison. Would this be all right with you?”
“Winky would love to serve great Master Harry Potter, sir!” she said.
“Thank you, Winky,” Harry said.
Winky smiled, snapped her fingers, and was gone.
Harry took his leave shortly thereafter, and promptly arrived at the door to his room. His rooms themselves were lovely, complete with red walls with white accents, a massive stone fireplace connected to the Floo Network, Turkish rugs throughout, a kitchenette with a large bay window above the sink in case he was on a deadline and couldn’t be bothered to eat in the Great Hall, plenty of bookshelves built into the wall on either side of the fireplace, coordinating furniture made of cherry wood and complemented with red velvet cushions, and a bedroom with a bathroom and closet attached.
The bedroom had a queen-size four-poster cherry wood bed, complete with red velvet curtains and duvet. Each side of the bed boasted a cherry wood bedside table, with beautiful antique lamps and two drawers, plus an open shelf beneath the drawers themselves. Across the room were two doors, both of cherry wood, one leading to his walk-in closet, in which Harry quickly hung his new robes, and a bathroom, with white marble tiles, a loo, a two-person basin-like sink, a bathtub that could easily fit an army, and a two-person standing shower.
Nodding in satisfaction, Harry meandered towards the bookshelves, and spelled all of his necessary books into alphabetical order by title, and smiled. Yes, perhaps his personal life had gone off the rails, as per Rita Skeeter, but perhaps Hermione could do something about that. His best friend had not yet revealed to anyone of importance of the notion that Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus, so perhaps a compromise could be put upon the table, literally, that holiday season.
~*~
Harry was truly amazed at how quickly the day came for him, Ron, and Hermione to take their NEWT’s exams. Professor McGonagall had hired a special proctor from the Ministry of Magic in the form of John Dawlish, part of the Auror Department, who had agreed to observe the exams, and collect them, before turning them in to the correct professor. After the exam time had finished and Dawlish had collected them, Hermione made a beeline to prepare for her trip to Australia, in an attempt to find her parents—on which Ron had agreed to accompany her—while Dawlish spoke to Harry and Ron about the Auror Department.
Harry found all he wanted was to get out of there and go and see Snape. He had promised to see Ron and Hermione off, but he couldn’t very well sit still for long, could he? After all those days and hours he’d spent with Snape, the pair had come to an understanding, and he couldn’t have mistaken those heated looks over cups of tea, or how his eyes seemed to light up whenever Harry answered a potions question correctly, could he?
“Any questions you have at all,” Dawlish said, his open face friendly.
“How long does the training last?” Ron wanted to know.
“Assuming the two of you get into the training program—which I’m positive you will—it will take about eight weeks, as far as I remember,” Dawlish told them. “We like the new recruits to start by the first week of September, and then the probationary period lasts from six months to a year, in which a senior auror will be assigned to you, so as you can shadow them and learn how to work appropriately on a case-by-case basis.”
“There are still Death Eaters out there, right?” Ron questioned.
Dawlish sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m quite sure that Department Chief Robards will want the two of you on a team to track them down.”
“And, typically, where is field work assigned the most?”
“Diagon Alley, with many people patrolling around the entrance for Knockturn Alley, for obvious reason,” Dawlish told him.
“Harry, mate, why didn’t you ask Dawlish anything when he offered?” Ron asked as soon as they’d excused themselves and wandered down the corridor.
Harry sighed. “Sorry, Ron. You seemed to be enjoying yourself...”
“Harry, don’t think you’ll be offending me if you ask a senior auror a question or two. He was there for both of us, he said so,” Ron told him.
Harry rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know. Guess all the exams made me tired.”
“Well, considering that Snape’s been drilling you for hours the past week and a half on a subject you have a love-hate relationship with, I can see why.” Ron mulled over his statement as they went upstairs to the Gryffindor common room. “You sure you don’t mind me and Hermione just up and taking off like this?”
Harry shook his head. “No, of course I don’t,” he said quickly. “Obliviating her mum and dad was likely the most difficult thing, combined with what Bellatrix did to her at the manor, that ‘Mione’s had to deal with,” he told him.
“What are you going to do now?” Ron wanted to know. “Now that NEWT’s are over and done with, I mean. You going back to Grimmauld?”
“I think so,” Harry said softly. “Losing Kreacher in the final battle really did a number on my psyche, I think. I’m also meeting with a solicitor that Kingsley recommended, so that I can have someone draft statements on my behalf.”
“Yeah? You finally going to tell The Prophet to bugger off?”
Harry grinned. “That’s the plan. Although, I am going to make a formal statement to The Quibbler in a few days.”
A flicker of anger passed through Ron’s face. “After that right little git Lovegood nearly got us caught by Death Eaters?”
Harry sighed. “Ron, war makes people do mad things. You know how torn up he was about them taking Luna. I wouldn’t want to meet a parent who wouldn’t do anything to save their own child during dark times. He’s apologized profusely since then, and Luna reprimanded him really well once she got the full story.”
Ron sighed. “I guess you’re right. I mean, Mum did enchant our ghoul to look like me while we were on the run...”
“Exactly,” Harry said.
Hermione came downstairs shortly thereafter, her beaded bag hanging from her arm, and smiled at the two of them. “There now, all packed. Now, we’ve just got to Apparate to Diagon and get to Heathrow, and then we can fly onto Melbourne Airport.”
Ron grinned. “Dad’s given me a book on airports that I can read on the way,” he told her with a shrug. “He’s asked that we take lots of pictures with that Polaroid Harry gave us, and tell us everything about the plane itself.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Hermione said. “Walk us to the gates, Harry?”
Harry nodded. “Of course.” The trio traipsed through the castle, still under repairs in the weeks since the battle, and did their best not to get in the way. When they got to the main floor and out of the front double doors, they made their way quickly past Hagrid’s hut, knowing that they couldn’t stay for rock cakes or tea this time. The wards on the front gate allowed them out, and remained open for Harry, as he had not expressed an interest to leave just yet. “Sure you’ll both be all right?” he asked.
Hermione smiled. “We have to be, don’t we? This is my parents we’re talking about. I’ve just... I will never forgive myself if we don’t find them.”
Harry smiled and stepped forward, throwing his arms around Hermione and holding her for a moment. “Be careful, yeah?”
“Of course,” she said, pulling back so that Ron could hug Harry as well.
“You’ll be all right, won’t you?” Ron asked him.
Harry chuckled. “Yeah,” he told him, playfully smacking his shoulder as he pulled away, and nodded at the two of them. “Take care of her, yeah?”
“Course,” Ron said, putting an arm around Hermione, and Harry watched as they walked towards the Apparition Point in Hogsmeade without looking back.
Harry turned around when the pair of them had vanished with a pop, and walked back through the gates, which swung shut automatically behind him. Harry had worked it out with Headmistress McGonagall that he would remain at the school until his NEWT’s exams came back, and he would help with the rebuilding as much as he could. Once back inside, Harry meandered down to the dungeons, where he’d spent quite a bit of time over the past few weeks, and had promised to inform Snape as soon as he’d completed his exams. The temperature around him began to steadily drop as no speck of natural light lit his way, and he found himself before the familiar door once again, and knocked.
Snape opened it readily, and stood aside. “Good afternoon, Potter.”
“Good afternoon, sir.” Harry slipped inside and declined the offer of tea, but moved to sit in his customary place upon the couch. “I came as soon as I could.”
“I take it that Granger and Weasley have set off for Australia?” Snape queried, moving to sit on the other end of the couch.
“Yes, sir, to get back Mr. and Mrs. Granger.”
“A very brave, if not naïve, decision to make on Miss Granger’s part.”
Harry blinked. “Sir?”
“Some Memory Charms, Potter, are irreversible,” Snape said, not unkindly. “Of course, I do hope hers are reversible.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Harry said quietly, suddenly worried. “Of course, the classic example would be Lockhart, but I think he got what he deserved.”
Snape blinked, slightly taken aback. “While incapable of teaching without spouting inane drivel about his Witch Weekly award, or handing out exams which featured mundane questions about his favorite color, the man was obviously fond of you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Snape, I have to tell you that I never liked my fame. In fact, I think I informed you of it during Occlumency lessons, but I see that it did no good.”
Snape blinked. “Really? But your father...”
“I am not my father, which I believe we already established,” Harry cut across him. “While I did invade your privacy by invading your pensieve without permission—which I’ve apologized for multiple times—can’t you understand why I did so?” Harry hesitated but, when Snape remained silent, he continued, “I wanted to understand.”
“Understand?”
“Yes, understand,” Harry told him. “Understand why you seemed to have it out for an eleven-year-old boy, who subsequently became a confused teenager, just wanting to know why his least-favorite professor hated him.”
“I’ve already established, Potter, that I do not—”
“Yes, I realize your reasons now, thank you,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But what I don’t understand is the fact that it took you so long to come to terms with the fact that I was not, nor will I ever be, my father. One could make a point that Neville, who performed as badly in potions as I did while in your class, could be considered quite unpopular and not deemed appropriate a friend for the Chosen One,” he went on, and Snape observed that he used the title mockingly, “I count him as one of my closest friends.”
Snape inclined his head. “Yes, I suppose you do, Potter.”
Harry sighed. “Please, don’t call me that...”
“What?”
“‘Potter’,” Harry said quietly. “Please. I hate it. All I’ve ever wanted to be is Harry. Just Harry, and nobody ever wanted to seem to afford me that. Well, people who were on the outside looking in, it seemed.”
“I suppose I can be amenable to that, Harry,” Snape replied.
Harry smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Snape smiled back, much to Harry’s surprise. “You’re welcome.”
“I like that,” Harry said softly, before he could stop himself.
Snape blinked. “What?”
“Your smile,” Harry said, and Snape immediately flushed pink, which did things to Harry’s insides that he’d never felt before. “You should do it more often.”
~*~
Once he’d settled in by hanging up his clothes and setting his other various belongings to rights, Harry set to work on Professor Agnor’s lesson plans, implementing some of his own ideas for the curriculum, and all-around having a wonderful time of it. He did not leave his rooms for nearly a week, until Minerva informed him that he had to get some of the winter sunshine which permeated the grounds when the thick clouds could be put at bay. Shaking his head, knowing that the nagging would then come in the form of a Howler from Mrs. Weasley if Minerva’s note wasn’t heeded, Harry begrudgingly put a pin into his work.
Harry put on his woolen winter cloak, a hat, scarf, and gloves, before tying his snow boots into place and venturing outside. The grounds were covered in frost, being that December had finally arrived, but snow wasn’t due to arrive for another couple of weeks. The air was crisp as Harry walked through the cold, and pulled his scarf tighter around him, moving towards the stone path which led from the bridge, stone garden, and on towards the entrance to the owlery. Once he had gotten to the ramp leading to the owlery, he climbed it carefully, not wanting to risk falling and cracking his head open.
“Hey, girl,” he said, spotting Marcella already roosting comfortably in the location of the owlery reserved for staff members’ animals, and Marcella hooted in greeting. Stepping forward, Harry offered her some owl tidbits, which she ate greedily, and cocked her head to the owl beside her, a Greater Sooty Owl, which boasted the impressive-sounding name, Maynard, upon the little bronze plaque beneath his small hutch. “Found a friend already, have you, Celle?” Harry asked, and reached out automatically, and smiled as the beautiful creature bowing its head for Harry to stroke. “Would you like some, Maynard?” he inquired, and opened his hand, bestowing a bit of tidbits onto the lovely creature.
“I was unaware that you spoke to birds, Potter.”
Harry tensed slightly as he drew back his hand, and pivoted, turning to see that the silken and intoxicating voice indeed belonged to his former potions professor. “I should’ve guessed he was yours,” he said, watching as Snape crossed the space between them, and tied a shrunken package to the owl’s leg, and nodded, and the bird flew off.
Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Why did you think so?”
“Other than the notion that he was in the staff section of the owlery, his coloring, of course,” said Harry, smiling broadly at the man, despite everything.
Snape gave a slight nod at that. “Yes. I have been known to favor black.”
Although perhaps not people with that surname, or others who seemed to enjoy the company of others from that family, Harry thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “Yes, sir.”
Snape swallowed. “I would have thought your shields would be effortless by now.”
Harry blinked. “Sir?”
Snape touched the tip of his index finger to his temple, before pointing it towards Harry. “I find I am still able to hear your thoughts as clear as a bell, Potter.”
Harry felt his face immediately flush at the implication. “Sorry, sir. It was never my strong suit as a teenager, and I suppose it was a talent I never learned.”
Snape pulled his woolen cloak more closely around himself. “While I did not particularly like Sirius Black as a person, Potter, rest assured that that dislike no longer extends to you, as previously discussed.”
Harry felt his mouth go dry. “Sir?” he whispered.
“I would have thought that you were under the impression that mutual misunderstandings occurred during the war, Potter,” Snape told him quietly. “I am afraid that I was under the impression that, because of your blood link towards your father, that you yourself would therefore be as lazy and arrogant as he was. Rest assured, I realize that my judgements were in error, and will not happen again.”
Harry found himself smiling at the man, all but lost on the notion that his voice was so melodious and beautiful. “Thank you, sir.”
“Potter?”
Harry cleared his throat then and straightened. “Yes, sir?”
“Try not to allow yourself to wander off into dreamland during class time.”
Harry’s brows knitted together. “Sir?”
Snape, for once, looked amused. “The students have the capability of getting worse and worse with each passing term, Potter.”
Harry watched as Snape moved to leave the owlery, and quickly charged after him. “Meaning?” he asked, confused.
“They’re dunderheads, Potter.”
“No. Well, yes. I understand that aspect of it, sir. I was referring to your advice about me not allowing my mind to wander,” he said quickly.
Snape stopped walking, and Harry inadvertently slammed into him. Snape turned around then, and eased Harry away from his body, while Harry lowered his eyes, flushing to his ears, which were still visible beneath his winter hat. “Some of the students fancy themselves as mind-readers, Potter,” Snape explained. “The last thing that you would want any of them to do is proclaim that the Boy-Who-Lived was still in love with Ginevra Weasley.”
“I’m not!” Harry burst out then, yanking himself away from Snape, and glaring up at him. “I was never in love with Ginny.”
Snape cocked an eyebrow again. “You were with her for a period during her fifth year and your sixth, plus for a time after the war. If I recall, you merely ended your relationship a mere fortnight ago. Is it true what The Prophet has said, Potter? Has she truly taken up with Krum?”
“Yes,” Harry said, his tone slightly bitter. “Ginny’s with Krum now.”
Snape nodded, considering. “And you’re upset by it?”
Harry huffed. “Yes, I’m upset by it, but not for the reasons you may think,” he told him, and wrapped his arms around himself.
“You say you were never in love with Ginevra Weasley.”
He nodded. “Yes. I was never in love with her.”
“Well, then why were you with her?”
“It was just easier,” Harry said, deliberately not making eye contact with Snape.
“Easier?”
“Yeah. Easier to lie to all my adoring fans,” he said, dragging his hands through his dark hair, his voice hinging on desperation.
“Lying? All because you weren’t in love with your childhood sweetheart?”
“I didn’t not love her in an unwilling manner, sir. I literally couldn’t love her,” he said, and his eyes flashed to Snape’s.
“You… You couldn’t love her?”
“No,” Harry said, his voice shaking. “I couldn’t love her because I’m gay, and I think I have feelings for someone else,” he said, and, before he could stop himself, dashed away from the potions master, as snow began to fall around them.
~*~
Harry spent the week waiting for his NEWT’s results pacing around the castle, assisting with its restoration work, having conversations with Snape, and lying awake in his dormitory, alone, as nobody else had elected to remain through the summer months. The sleepless nights were getting to him, but he found that he couldn’t take his mind off Snape. The only time he left the castle was on Sunday, when Mrs. Weasley summoned him for Sunday brunch, which was delicious, but, otherwise, the day did not go well.
“Why are you staying there?” Ginny asked, when she’d finally managed to coax Harry out for a walk on the expansive farm land of the Burrow. “I mean, the castle is going through pretty severe restorations, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you be getting in the way?”
Harry pursed his lips; he really was becoming sick of Ginny’s constant nagging. “Actually, I’m helping with the restorations,” he told her patiently.
Ginny looked gobsmacked at his declaration. “I’m sorry— You’re what?!” she cried out, looking put out. “I thought that, once the war was over, we’d find our way back to each other, and be together...”
Harry sighed. “Gin, I can’t explain it, but I need to do this. I need to help repair the school, because it was my home for such a long time.”
“Your home should be with me,” Ginny said, her voice firm, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised in that moment if she had stamped her foot. “We’re supposed to be each other’s home, Harry. On your last birthday, you made it seem like, once this was over, you could come back to me. In fact, you seemed eager...”
“I was eager for the war to be over, Gin. We shouldn’t live in a world where someone as demented and mad as Voldemort fancies himself in charge.”
“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” Ginny said quickly, and draped herself upon him, which made Harry stiffen for some reason, but Ginny ignored it. “You know that I would never agree with what that madman preached. You know as well as I do that Hermione’s one of my best friends for Merlin’s sake, just like she’s yours as well. In point of fact, I expect her to be my sister by the end of the year, or on the road to it, at the very least. But I want that for us too, Harry.”
Harry blinked. “What?” he asked, shocked.
“A future,” Ginny said with a smile. “Marriage, a family. Don’t you want to marry me and have a family?” she asked him.
Harry shook his head. “Gin, I don’t think...”
“Hey, it’s all right, really it is,” she said, putting a firm hand upon his arm, before she put her lips against his, and Harry immediately sprang backwards.
“I... I’m sorry, Gin,” he said, his face flaming. “I’ve got to go,” he said quickly. “Please, tell your mum I’m sorry.” With that, Harry spun on the spot and Apparated, landing precisely outside the gates of Hogwarts. Breaking into a run, the wards came down and let him inside immediately, and he burst in through the main doors, heading in the direction of Snape’s rooms, when he was caught by Headmistress McGonagall.
“Oh! Harry, I was just about to fire-call the Burrow,” she said, rushing towards him, her tartan robes pluming out around her, and Harry halted in his pursuit of the dungeons.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?” Harry asked.
“Your NEWT’s grades are finally in,” she said brightly, and handed him an envelope without a moment’s hesitation. “Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” she said, before she turned around and headed back up the staircase, likely towards her office.
Harry smiled then as he opened the envelope, hoping beyond hope that he had done well during the final examinations required for graduation. Looking at the piece of paper, Harry felt his eyes filling with tears at what he saw.

Charms E
Potions O
Care of Magical Creatures E
Transfiguration E
Defense Against the Dark Arts O
History of Magic A

Harry was thrilled at the outcome, and dashed immediately towards the dungeon stairs, bolting as fast as he could down them. He could see everything now, as if it was clearer, and knew what kind of a life he wanted. He would apologize to Ginny, and tell her that they couldn’t happen, as he had met someone else, someone very special to him, someone that, despite their pasts and the fact that they hadn’t even discussed anything romantic—nor had they kissed—Harry was a hundred percent sure of what he wanted. As he finally reached the bottom of the staircase, he dashed towards the potions classroom, and was surprised to find that the door was partially open, and he heard voices inside, familiar voices.
“Dawlish oversaw the examinations on that particular afternoon, as scheduled,” came the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt from the potions classroom.
“Indeed. Minerva mentioned that he had been placed on the books to take the position as proctor for Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter,” Severus replied.
“Rumor is that you tutored Harry for his potions exam,” Kingsley put in.
“Yes. Even Potter admitted that it was not his best subject in the years in which he was a student here. I merely went over topics and made the outlook a more positive one for him. I assume he did well.”
“He will make a fine addition to the Auror Department, Severus, thanks to your help,” came the voice of the Minister of Magic, and there was something intimate about it, something Harry found he didn’t like.
“I suppose I helped a little, yes.”
“I don’t know if ‘a little’ can really describe it, Severus,” Kingsley went on, and Harry flicked his wrist, summoning his invisibility cloak, which came flying, and Harry placed it over himself before he slipped into the classroom.
“I helped Mr. Potter for a final examination to ensure that he would do well in order to achieve the marks he needed to get his dream position. Nothing more, nothing less,” Snape said, his tone rather curt, as he was perusing his bookshelves in the classroom, obviously looking for something he deemed important in that moment.
“Oh, come now, Severus. No need to be so standoffish,” Kingsley said with a chuckle. “We can put the war behind us, and all we had to do to achieve victory for the Light. You’ve been cleared, and can live as you like.”
Snape peered over his shoulder at Kingsley, unsure. “What are you implying?”
“I am implying, Severus, that you should not seek to hide any part of your identity any longer. In fact, I suggest that you embrace it. There’s nothing wrong with it, after all, and you know as well as I do that the Wizarding World accepts such things.”
“Be that as it may, minister, I still have a very important job to do as Head of Slytherin House, as well as students to teach, once the term starts up again,” Severus said, his tone clipped.
“But, Severus, you shouldn’t hide your preferences...”
“And you shouldn’t presume to know them,” Severus said, his black eyes flashing at the man in the very definition of a warning. “I’ve kept them hidden for nearly forty years, and only I can make the decision to let them out.”
“But, Severus, if you are ashamed of them, then you shouldn’t...”
“I am hardly ashamed of them, Shacklebolt,” Severus said, turning away from the minister again, and began looking over the shelves again. “Now, that is enough.”
“Severus,” the man crooned, and slowly stepped forward and, to Harry’s horror, turned the man effortlessly, and kissed him.
Unable to hold back his sob, Harry dropped his NEWT’s results, and dashed from the room, just somehow able to keep a good handle upon his invisibility cloak as he strove to get as far away from there as possible.
~*~
Harry knew that avoiding Snape wouldn’t do any good, if they continued to be mutually sequestered at Hogwarts throughout the winter holidays. Gathering up his most important possessions, Harry Floo’d into the beautiful row house that Ron and Hermione had purchased in the months after the war, up in Cornwall. Landing rather hard in the living room, soot adorning every inch of his person, strong arms managed to wrap around him get bring him to his feet, and Harry threw his arms around Ron.
“All right there, mate?” he asked, looking over his best friend with concern. “We haven’t seen you since the party at Hogwarts. And to hear from Robards that you’d quit through a letter like that…”
“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione scolded, bustling into the living room with a tea tray, her solitaire engagement ring gleaming on her finger as she placed the tray upon the table. “Leave off Harry for a moment, would you? He’s our best friend, and we’ve hardly seen or heard from him for over a week, and now he’s back at Hogwarts. Oh, Harry,” she went on, looking him over and tutting for a moment and taking out her wand. “Oculus Reparo,” she said, and suddenly, his glasses didn’t have a spidery slash upon them.
“Definitely need to remember that one,” he said softly to himself.
Hermione stepped forward, after waving her wand in the direction of the teapot, instructing it to pour three cups of tea. She casted a quick Scourgify on Harry with a flick of her wrist, and then stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. “We’ve been worried sick, you know.”
Harry sighed, permitting himself to be hugged by Hermione, and hugged her back. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Mad at you?” she cried out, pulling back, her brown eyes riddled with shock. “If anything, we’re mad at Skeeter!”
“Plus Ginny,” Ron put in, although Harry could see that it was difficult for him to admit that, as she was his only sister. “She had no right to treat you that way, Harry.”
“Even if you have been distant, which is perfectly understandable,” Hermione told him. “You finally met your destiny a little over half a year ago. You almost never reach out for help until it’s too late, it’s just who you are.”
“Is that what this is, mate?” Ron asked. “You’re asking us for help?”
Harry sighed. “Look, I… Could I stay in your guest room until term starts? I just… I want to get away from everything, you know?”
“You don’t even have to ask, Harry,” Hermione told him, handing him a cup of tea. “You know you’re our family.”
“Thank you,” Harry told them, and moved to put his stuff into the guest room.
Hermione called Harry that evening for dinner, and, when Harry came out, his eyes widened at the large roast chicken upon the table, plus roasted potatoes, and roasted veg, along with what he believed was a treacle tart for dessert. Smiling to himself, despite his mind drifting forever backwards to how he’d left things with Snape that day, Harry moved to his customary place at the Granger-Weasley table, and waited to be served.
“This is really too much,” Harry said, finding that he still felt slightly uncomfortable whenever someone did something that he deemed extravagant. “After all these years, the two of you really don’t owe me a thing...”
“Now, now, Harry, just eat up,” Hermione said with a grin as Ron carved a generous helping of chicken for him.
Ron placed a good amount of chicken onto Harry’s plate, and then served his fiancée, followed by himself. As they settled into their meal, Ron finally permitted himself to look up at his best friend, and sighed. “Mate, I’m sorry, but I want to know what happened.”
Harry blinked, and raised his eyes. “What?”
“Ron, don’t push him, please,” Hermione begged.
“He’s not pushing me, Hermione,” Harry said quickly, before he turned to Ron. “I suppose it’ll come out eventually, why I couldn’t give Ginny what she wanted.”
Hermione summoned a bottle of expensive-looking white wine, and spelled it into three long-stemmed glasses. “This should help,” she said softly.
Harry swirled his wine in his glass and sighed. “I… I don’t love Ginny,” he said softly.
“Well, that much is evident,” Hermione told him, and clasped her hand in his. “No matter what, Harry, we support you.”
“Is it another girl?” Ron asked.
Harry shook his head. “No, Ron. It’s a bloke—well, a man, really...”
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron’s shocked expression. “Honestly, Ronald... Harry, I’ve known since sixth-year,” she told him.
Harry’s jaw fell open. “You’ve what?!”
“I suspected it when you were practically sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince’s book,” she admitted, and shrugged her shoulders.
Harry lowered his wine glass, and would’ve planted his face into his dinner, were it not for Hermione spelling the plate away from him, before his head came to rest on the tabletop. “I didn’t want it to be true...”
“Mate, Charlie’s gay,” Ron said, and Harry picked his head up slightly. “I’m not about to judge you here.”
Harry sighed. “Thanks, Ron.”
“So, is it him, then?” Hermione asked, and Harry slowly turned to face her. “The Half-Blood Prince? Is he the man you fancy?”
Harry slowly picked his head up all the way from the table. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I... I may have spelled it out for him, last time I saw him, but I didn’t exactly say who it was. Although, let’s remember that Snape’s not the dunderhead here.”
“That we know of,” Ron muttered.
Hermione fixed her fiancé with a brief glare before she turned and looked at Harry. “So, what are you going to do?” she asked.
“For the moment? Absolutely nothing,” Harry replied, summoning his dinner back towards him, but only picked at it for a few moment, before he reached out for his wine glass, and he drank it deeply, the pear-colored liquid swirling in the crystal-cut glass. “I’m tired of putting myself out there, ‘Mione. I’m tired of perceived rejection. I have no idea what he would even see in me, so rest assured that I want this chapter to end as quickly as possible.”
~*~
Harry was in the dormitory the following day, after he’d seen Snape and Kingsley kiss, and was throwing all of his belongings into his rucksack, with the intention of returning to Grimmauld Place that morning. Due to the upkeep of the house, he knew that he would eventually need a house-elf to replace Kreacher, so as to assist him in said upkeep, and a new owl. No owl could ever replace Hedwig, but he was a grown man now, and he couldn’t suffer fools lightly any longer, he decided.
Once he was through packing, Harry trudged downstairs to the common room, taking a few moments to have a look around. He remembered sitting in front of the fire with Ron and Hermione talking about seeing Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest; then, he remembered playing Exploding Snap with Ginny in the wake of the kerfuffle of the Chamber of Secrets; and, of course, studying with Neville, Dean, and Seamus on varying occasions. Staring into the dying embers of the fireplace, he remembered speaking to Sirius there, during the Triwizard Tournament, and sighed, wishing he’d had more time with the man.
Harry left the common room immediately thereafter, and made his way to the Great Hall, where he would use the Floo Network to get to Grimmauld Place. He’d said goodbye to Headmistress McGonagall before going to bed the night before, and a brief farewell to Professors Flitwick and Sprout, as well as Hagrid, and there was no one else he cared to say goodbye to in the land of the living. He waved to Nearly Headless Nick before stepping into the Great Hall, and the man doffed his head to Harry as he vanished into the stone floor beneath him.
Harry somberly walked towards the fireplace of the Great Hall, knowing that he was encroaching onto the end of an era. He no longer needed wizarding school, for he had passed his final exams instead of attending his final year. He was fully prepared to begin the next step, Auror Academy, as he had nothing better to do, really. Just as he was reaching towards the Floo Powder, he heard the familiar snap of robes, and turned, beholding Professor Severus Snape, and felt his eyebrows raising automatically.
“Harry.”
“Sir?” Harry asked, and automatically found himself stepping backwards, closer to the flames, not wanting to even speak to the man in front of him.
“I know you were in the potions classroom last night.”
“Oh?” Harry asked, his tone one of disinterest, and he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t suppose that matters now, does it? Or have you come here to demand me keep my mouth shut? Or, better yet, are you going to Obliviate me?”
Snape blinked. “Harry, what you’ve got to understand is...”
“I don’t want to understand a bloody thing!” Harry shouted, catching a glimpse of an envelope in Snape’s hands, and recognized in as his final grades. He snatched it from his former professor’s hands, continuing to glare at him. “You’ve hurt me, Severus Snape, and even you will never understand how much,” he declared, before grabbing the Floo Powder and throwing it into the flames, before shouting, “Grimmauld Place!” and was swallowed up completely.
Just as he tumbled out into the living room, he was sure to block people from entering, as he was ill-prepared to have a conversation with Severus Snape too soon after the man had so unexpectedly and so spectacularly broken his heart.
~*~
As the winter holidays continued, the Christmas season was officially in full-swing. It proved to be a worthy distraction, for Ron and Hermione’s wedding was set for Christmas Eve. It was a rather short window to prepare, but once Ron had received permission from Mr. Granger, in the wake of them restoring both his and his wife’s’ memories, everyone wanted to move on to the next phase of their lives. Mrs. Weasley was absolutely beside herself, for not only was her youngest son getting married, but her oldest son was gearing up to be a parent, as Bill and Fleur had announced their pregnancy just after Halloween.
Just a week before the wedding, Harry, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Bill, Charlie, and George all successfully abducted Ron and took him to The Leaky Cauldron, and they’d booked rooms there as well to serve as Ron’s stag night before the ceremony. Ron proclaimed his love for all of them repeatedly, while under the influence of Firewhiskey and many other concoctions provided by Tom, and all of the Gryffindors had a wonderful night. Harry forced himself not to think of Snape repeatedly, as he was Ron’s Best Man, and he couldn’t allow his attention to waver for even a moment.
For Hermione’s hen party—organized by Ginny, as Maid of Honor—it involved Mrs. Weasley, Fleur, Luna, Angelina Johnson, Gabrielle Delacour, and Hannah Abbott at Madam Puddifoot’s Teashop in Hogsmeade, and, apparently, they all had a lovely time. Harry still recalled his less-than-successful date with Cho Chang there, during Valentine’s Day of his fifth year. He thought that, perhaps the hearts floating in his hot drink of choice, as well as Cho’s crying, could’ve been a clear indication of his non-romantic inclinations towards witches. However, he’d been unable to figure it out, at the time.
Two nights before the wedding, Hermione had gone up north to Hampstead, to stay with her parents before the ceremony, for a planned long weekend. Ron had gone to the Burrow, and although he’d convinced Harry to come along, Harry had declined. Instead, Harry finally managed to finish his lesson plans for the following term, and was quite pleased that he could now fully focus on his Best Man speech. He drilled out the speech in under two hours, before ordering a takeaway for dinner, and casually chewed the Chinese noodles in a savory sauce; he thought there was chicken in the dish, but he couldn’t be sure.
The knock at the front door, once he’d cleared his dinner dishes and gotten ready for bed, came as a shock to Harry. Thinking that Ron had forgotten his keys or something, and had gotten mad drunk and neglected to remember the fact that Apparition and the Floo Network and Portkeys existed, Harry trudged towards the door, his wand out for good measure, and opened it. His green eyes widened at Severus Snape, standing on the threshold.
“So, this is where I find you, then,” came the intoxicating voice.
Harry pocketed his wand. “You may as well come in.”
Snape accepted the invitation, pulling off his woolen cloak and scarf, and Harry noticed for the first time that there were snowflakes in his hair. “I’ve come to speak.”
Harry inclined his head. “Very well, then. Speak.”
“In the wake of you leaving Hogwarts unexpectedly, I attempted to track you down at Grimmauld, but noticed it had been put up for sale.”
Harry sighed. “Yes. Too many memories. I’m thinking of taking it off the market, and giving it to Ron and Hermione as a wedding gift, as no one has nibbled on it yet.”
“Where will you live, then? Godric’s Hollow?”
Harry shook his head. “No. I found a place about a fortnight ago. I wanted a fresh start, so to speak, and although my teaching at Hogwarts is a part of that, I wanted a place of my own, because it’s time for me to stand on my own, with no expectations from anyone, for they may not like what there is to hear.”
“Where is this ‘place’?”
“Burton-on-Trent, it’s a rather large detached house with ample space for... Well, for whatever I want, really. I’ve already made an offer,” Harry said with a shrug. “That’s what part of this is all about. Life. After paying your dues, getting what you want.”
“And... Being alone? Is that what you want?”
Harry sighed, noticing a scuff mark upon the wooden floor, and hoped that one of his trainers hadn’t made it. “No, of course it’s not what I want, Snape,” he admitted. “But I can’t expect anything different, now can I, because the one I want most has his sights set on someone else.”
“Harry... Look at me,” Severus whispered, and Harry did so. “I am so sorry you had to see Kingsley doing that,” he said, and Harry felt his eyes filling with tears at the memory. “If I’d known how you felt...” He sighed. “That day, I was looking for courting and marriage rituals in my library, because I wanted...”
“Severus?” Harry whispered, stepping closer to the man.
“I wanted to make you mine, and, considering that you were expressing doubt about Miss Weasley, I believed that I had a chance in actually making it so. Then, the two of you ended things, and I thought the stars had completely aligned for me, but you were gone, and I thought it was now too late,” Severus whispered, and Harry felt a shuddering breath escape from his throat at the declaration. “I couldn’t stand you going back to the dormitory at night, because I wanted you with me. Waiting for you to be with me again became a torment, but I wanted to respect you, so I was looking for a proper way for me to court you, with the intention of asking you to marry me...”
“But,” Harry whispered, shaking his head, “why would you want to marry me?”
Snape—Severus—grinned then, and it caused his heart to shudder within his chest. “You great, beautiful dunderhead. It’s because I love you.”
Harry gasped then, unable to form words for a moment. “You... You love me?” he whispered, and stared openly at Severus.
“I love you,” Severus declared.
Harry launched forward then, throwing his arms around Severus, reveling in the moment when the man held him against him, and anchored his lips to his. Once their lips met, Harry was on fire, and immediately opened his mouth for Severus’s tongue. Without thinking, he suddenly yanked backwards then and pulled Severus down the hallway, towards the guest bedroom, and pulled Severus down onto the bed, and permitted him to take control, stripping him of his clothes, and arched up against him when they finally met, skin-to-skin.
“Harry...” Severus groaned. He summoned a bottle of lube from nowhere, and painstakingly prepared him and, once he was knuckle-deep on his third finger, Harry felt himself letting out a keening wail.
“Now. Now, Severus,” he begged, his breathing ragged and shallow.
Severus slowly permitted his engorged member to slip inside Harry, and Harry mewled, wrapping his legs firmly around Severus’s muscular torso. “Merlin... You’re so tight,” Severus whispered.
“I should be,” Harry replied.
Severus’s eyes met Harry’s in the darkness. “You’re...?”
“It was always yours... Always been yours,” Harry whispered, pressing his lips to Severus’s. “I love you, Severus Snape. I’ve loved you since sixth-year. I’ll never want anyone else...” Harry’s speech became garbled as Severus took him harder, deeper, and Harry’s eyes rolled back up into his head. “Oh, Merlin... Merlin, Severus, more!” he yelled.
“Yes, oh, Merlin, yes! Harry!” Severus yelled, and spilled himself into Harry, pressing his forehead against his and holding him close once it was all over. “Oh, Merlin...”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, as Severus found his rock-hard cock in the darkness, and quickly brought him to completion. “Oh, fuck...” He whispered.
“Harry...”
“Severus?”
Severus met his eyes in the darkness. “Marry me,” he whispered.
“Yes,” Harry whispered back, opening his mouth beneath his, and, once Severus’s tongue breeched his lips, Harry was hard again, and fully prepared to rub himself off Severus until he reached completion once more.
~*~
Epilogue: Five Years Later

Harry picked up his four-year-old daughter, Liliana Eileen Potter-Snape, whose green eyes and black hair almost immediately gave way to the world whose child she was. Pressing a kiss to his forehead to his daughter, whom he knew would be a Gryffindor just like him, he walked her over to the Christmas tree, and stared at the pretty lights with her.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“When will Papa be back?” Liliana asked, putting her black head onto his shoulder.
“As soon as Al wakes up from his nap, more likely,” Harry said, mentioning his and Severus’s two-year-old son, Albus Severus Potter-Snape. “Why? Are you missing him?”
Liliana squirmed to the point where she managed to lessen Harry’s hold just enough to get out of his arms. “Always,” she said, crossing her arms and tossing her rather impressive mane of black hair. “And besides, the Christmas party can’t start without him.”
“I know you’re anxious to see Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Cousin Rose, Aunt Ginny, Uncle Viktor, Cousin Valentina, Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur, Cousin Victoire, and everyone else who’s likely to be there, sweetheart, but patience is a virtue.”
“Not one I’ve got,” Liliana said, crossing her arms.
Harry chuckled as the Floo flared, and his husband of five years came traipsing out. “Hey, there, you,” he said, as Liliana squealed and dashed into Severus’s arms.
Severus crossed the room and placed a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Hello, husband of mine. Al up yet?” he asked.
Harry shook his head. “Was just about to get him before you showed up,” he said, and wiggled his hips when Liliana wasn’t looking, before he made his way upstairs. “Hey, buddy,” he said, and grinned as Al lifted his arms to be picked up, and Harry quickly dressed him in his Christmas jumper, knit by Molly Weasley, corduroy pants, and black dress shoes. Harry had a feeling that his son would be a Slytherin, but he didn’t hold it against him as he carried him downstairs.
“Papa, Papa!” Al crowed, immediately holding out his arms to Severus, who had, thankfully, by this time, put Liliana down.
Severus indulgently took Al, just as the doorbell rang, and Harry went to answer it. Everyone arrived in spades shortly thereafter, and Harry was pleased to have his family surrounding him on his favorite holiday of the year. As Harry drifted back into the kitchen, once the celebrations were in full-swing, he looked over the various foodstuffs he’d made, and nodded his head in approval at his efforts.
“Smells delicious,” Severus said, coming up behind him, and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, kissing his neck.
“Thank you,” Harry beamed.
“Think we can slip away from the party?” Severus asked. “All these potions I’ve had to brew for Hannah at the school have taken a lot out of me. I find myself missing you.”
Harry sighed, before he turned around and faced his husband. “I called Hannah here this morning,” he said softly.
Severus blinked. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Harry grinned. “More than all right,” he said, and took Severus’s hands, before he placed them upon his midsection.
“Harry...” Severus whispered.
Harry laughed slightly then. “Twins, a boy and a girl. They’ll be here in late spring, or early summer, according to Hannah.”
Severus found his eyes filling with tears then, and swept Harry up into his arms, kissing him over and over again. “Oh, Merlin... I love you, Harry,” he whispered.
Harry pulled back then, so as he could gaze upwards at the beautiful face that was his husband, the man he’d fallen in love with, and the only one he would ever want. Harry had no idea that Hermione saving Severus’s life, that day in the Shrieking Shack, would ultimately lead him on a path to understanding, assistance, friendship, misunderstandings, and then love. Life was funny sometimes, in the twists and turns it presented to you, but, who can live without it, I ask in all honesty?
“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Harry whispered to him.
“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Severus responded, before dipping his head downwards and kissing his husband once more.

THE END
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Who Can Live Without It, I Ask In All Honesty?