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Young At Heart	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15428 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and am not making any money off of it. If I did , Snape would have gotten laid - often and repeatedly.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-Epilogue
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4

Harry rubbed irritably at his neck again. He kept instinctively
reaching for the invisible shackle as if he could shift it with his
hands and ease some of the weight. When his hand realized it
couldn't, he would rub at the discomfort as if he could will it away.

This inevitably failed and he lowered his hand to fiddle with his
teacup once again. “So, er, how's the whole...community
service thing?” he asked awkwardly. It was the first he'd seen
Ron and Hermione since that night.

“It's rather educational, actually,” Hermione said,
trying to shine some happy light on the subject.

The disgruntled look on Ron's face told him otherwise. “Mine's
not started yet,” Ron answered flatly. “On account of my
hands.” They were still bandaged from the burns.

“Ron, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't, I mean...”

“They'll heal, mate. Don't worry about it,” Ron answered.
“They don't hurt that much, but you know mum. She'll not give
me any room to breathe until well after the healers give the say so.”
He was in a mood, but it wasn't over his burnt hands. It really
wasn't nearly as bad as it looked, but as it was little known dark
magic that did the burning, the healers felt it was best to let them
heal the muggle way with only potions and salves for the pain, and
nothing to heal the flesh. They just didn't know how healing magic
would react with the burns.

“None of us knew anything about what could really happen,
Harry,” Hermione comforted as best she could. “We aren't
angry with you. I've done a bit more research on that spell since
though. I thought it might help in your trial but...”

“Nothing,” Harry finished the sentence for her with a
heavy sigh. “You've already done enough. I don't want you
worrying about the trial.” Which he knew was impossible, but
he had to say it anyway. “It's going to work out.”
Somehow. He wasn't sure how yet, but he was sincerely hoping that
time-turners and hipogriffs weren't involved.

Hermione changed the tender subject before it could start a fight.
Harry in a temper wouldn't likely win any Ministry sympathies when
the trial started this afternoon. “So...how is he?”

“The same,” Harry answered, rubbing a hand over his face
and feeling far older than he ought to at his age. “Young.
Confused. Alive.” He couldn't help but enunciate the
last word; it was the most important one. “Now all I have to do
is keep myself out of Azkaban and him away from Malfoy and everything
should work out, somehow.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked. “What's he got to do
with anything?”

Harry explained how he'd had no choice but to get Draco to bring
Lucius around so that Snape would believe the story of how much time
had passed, what he'd done, how it all happened. He told them about
the way Draco had been 'raping him with his eyes' when he walked in,
'no doubt pondering doing all sorts of perverted, and probably
illegal, things' to do to Snape. His annoyance was palpable. He
described Severus Snape with unfathomable words like 'innocent' and
'naive' and ranted about how he wouldn't let the Malfoys 'ruin him
and make him miserable' all over again. He used phrases like 'second
chance' and 'he deserves so much more than the lot he was given'. He
implied that he wanted to protect him. By the time his tantrum was
over, both of his friends had a sort of knowing look in their eyes
that he couldn't put his finger on.

There was a tense silence for a moment before Ron said, “Ginny's
been asking how you're doing. What do you want me to tell her?”

Fuck. Ginny. If he was honest with himself he hadn't thought of her
much at all in the past year. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of
Ginny. Hell, Ginny was family... just like all the Weasleys,
and therein lay the problem, and the reason he should never have
gotten involved with her in the first place. They'd not been
involved in ages, but he knew everyone expected they'd get back
together once things settled. Now Ron wanted to know once and for
all if that was over and done with, like a good brother. If Harry
wanted to hang onto the possibility, he knew he should imply that
he'd get together with her soon, but he couldn't bring himself to do
it.

“...tell her there's nothing to worry about,” he said.
“I just...”

“...have a lot going on?” Ron asked flatly.

“...yeah,” Harry answered, feeling like a complete heel.
“It'll probably be a while before they settle down. Once the
hearing is over, there will still be other things. Snape will need
someone there for him, to explain things that have changed, answer
his questions and such. That'll probably keep me pretty busy.”
It was what he thought, so he couldn't figure out why it sounded
like an excuse. 'Maybe because I have no intention of picking
things up with Ginny where we left off, and can't make those words
come out of my mouth,' he thought. To be honest, he couldn't
think of much of anything but Severus right now. He absolutely had
to get through this trial somehow. He just wished he had some idea
what to tell the ministry that would satisfy them.

**

“You're certain?” Minerva asked the teenager as he fussed
with the collar of his shirt and gave the mirror a disdainful look
when it refused to lay straight.

“Of course I'm certain. Why else would I be fussing with this
infernal collar?” Severus griped.

She forgave him instantly – Severus Snape had always been
especially testy when he was anxious about something. She clucked
her tongue and waved him over, adjusting the cloth with practiced
fingers until it settled. He didn't thank her, but she hadn't
expected him to. He was younger, but he was still Severus, after
all.

“It isn't like you to get so worked up,” she observed.

Severus frowned. “I don't know what is and isn't like me
though, do I?” he quipped. “...Harry has done a lot for
me. I just feel like I ought to do something to return the favor.”
He turned to the mirror once more and dragged a brush through his
lank hair, internally sulking a bit that he couldn't manage to look a
bit more...imposing. People listened when you were imposing. They
didn't brush your words off like you were some stupid kid. Alas, if a
scraggly sixteen year old was all the help he could offer to Harry in
his trial, then he was going to have to somehow make certain that it
would be enough. “How much time do I have to prepare?”

“Not as much as you'd undoubtedly like, I'm sure,”
Minerva answered with a nod towards the door.

He nodded tightly, resisting the urge to take a deep breath. “Right
then.”

**

The back of Harry's neck was drenched in sweat. No matter how many
times you faced off with authority, how much pluck you had, or how
many times you saved the world, the Wizengamot could make anyone feel
like they were four years old and only knew half of their ABC's
...and that half was all out of order. He tried to explain about the
right thing to do, tried to put words (which so often failed him) to
how wrong it was to let Snape die if he could be saved after all he
did for everyone, but they just cited all these laws at him and asked
if it was true that his actions broke that particular law. He had no
choice but to grudgingly admit that they did in nearly every case,
but Professor McGonagall just gave him this little smile that implied
everything was going to be just fine. He couldn't help but wonder
where she got her confidence. 'Probably from not sitting
in the hot seat like you are,' he thought dryly as she pursed her
lips and tutted indignantly at something said.

“Now, I do believe it is the legal right of the defendant that
someone speak on his behalf in this matter,” she said in the
same stern tone she'd often used on particularly disobedient
students.

“I was not aware that there was anyone involved in this case
who has not already been charged with various degrees of criminal
involvement who could speak on his behalf,” the Minister
replied tightly.

“Weren't you?” McGonagall asked primly. “Then I
presume it was a rather unfortunate oversight that our witness did
not receive notice of the trial. Conveniently, we have been keeping
rather well in touch and I was able to inform him of the date and
time.”

Harry just barely managed not to snicker into his hand. Professor
McGonagall seemed to be channeling Albus Dumbledore's spirit. She
filled the shoes he left behind for her quite nicely.

“How convenient,” the man said, gesturing with his
wand for another chair, which popped up a few feet to Harry's right.
“Well then, by all means, call your witness.”

“So terribly kind of you,” McGonagall said. “The
defense calls Mr. Severus Snape to the stand.”

Harry almost choked on his own spit as the room filled with whispers.
She couldn't be serious! In Snape's condition... 'And what is
that condition, Harry? Being sixteen? The only thing that gets you is
a free pass to be an arsehole, if your behavior at that age is any
clue...'

Severus didn't know how he managed to keep his hands from shaking as
every eye in the room shot to him when he rose from the back row and
strode purposefully down the isle. He didn't know how his legs could
move with such firm steps and his back maintain such perfect posture
when his spine felt like jelly. He didn't know how he managed to
keep his lips pressed into a tight, even line when he could feel his
pulse racing and his tongue felt three times too thick to fit inside
of his mouth. But somehow he did all of these things, as if his body
instinctively remembered them even though his mind could not. His
fingers twitched marginally as he lowered himself deliberately into
the stiff-backed chair. He didn't dare look at Harry, because he had
a feeling one glance would make the careful facade he'd miraculously
erected shatter completely. He had to appear calm. He didn't feel
calm, but they didn't need to know that, right? For Harry's sake, he
had to convince them that he wasn't bothered by any of this, somehow
remain unflappable under the Wizengamot's scrutiny. He had no idea
just how in character that would be for the Severus Snape they were
familiar with.

He answered their questions in the only way that made sense –
based on facts with the most important points at the beginning in
case they cut him off in the middle. That way, they wouldn't be able
to make him stumble, or catch him too off guard. Yes, his health
appeared to be perfectly fine. No, he didn't seem to have any memory
of anything that had happened in the past twenty-odd years, and no,
he didn't feel as if there was anything 'missing'. What would he do
now? Continue attending school like every other teenage wizard –
unless they had some reason he shouldn't that he hadn't yet
considered.

“And with your parents many years since deceased, where exactly
were you planning to live, as an under-aged wizard, Mr. Snape?”

“I imagine that snag is the reason I am still being kept at St.
Mungo's Hospital, is it not?” he answered with a question of
his own. He'd faltered a bit on that question. It was still hard to
believe that his parents were both dead. How had they died? When?
He didn't know those answers and they were deliberately trying to use
the shocking statement to unhinge him, prove he was somehow mentally
unstable, and then blame that on Harry. How fickle the public can
be. One day a hero, the next day a madman.

The Minister cleared his throat. “Yes, well, your answers thus
far have been very...informative, but I can't help but wonder
how you feel about all of this. From your point of view
you've been, what exactly would you call it? Cast two decades into
the future? That must be unnerving.”

Oh, the sympathy card. “I rather think that given the option
between being sixteen and being dead, sixteen is the more amenable
option, wouldn't you say so?” Snape answered. “I won't
deny that it is sometimes a bit vexing, but Harry has been very
helpful in explaining the advancements I am unfamiliar with as they
come up.” 'And very sweet, and patient, and charming,'
Severus thought. Oh, how he wanted to look at Harry now and see
how he was faring, but he didn't dare shift his gaze. He was certain
he'd lose his nerve and turn into the bumbling, temperamental idiot
he always seemed to be when Harry Potter was around.

Shortly after that, the Wizengamot called an hour recess to
'deliberate' on the matter. As soon as the room emptied out, Harry
reached over and put his hand over Severus'. “Thank you, but
you know, you really didn't have to do this.”

Heat jumped in Snape's stomach as his gaze met Harry's and he just
barely managed not to blush. His shoulders slumped and he let out a
breath he didn't know he was holding as he looked away. “Of
course I did,” he answered sullenly. “What am I supposed
to do if you end up in Azkaban?”

Harry grinned. “You were ridiculously smooth,” he
teased. “I don't know what orifice you pull your confidence
out of, but I think I'd rather like to borrow some.”

“...Churlish git,” Severus answered because insulting
Harry's intelligence seemed to be the only way to get out of this
line of conversation without turning rather red-faced.

But Harry just grinned at him. “Ballsy prat,” he
retorted.

Minerva watched them as she skirted the edge of the room pretending
not to exist (they'd rather forgotten she existed for the time being
and seemed happiest that way). They seemed to get on much better
without the age gap, and, she supposed, without Snape's memory of all
the drama that Harry had rather unintentionally shoved into his life.
Harry, at least, seemed far more relaxed and cheerful in Snape's
presence. Snape...well, he looked put out, but then again, he always
looked a bit put out regardless of the situation.

She'd become so accustomed to Severus as a fellow teacher that she'd
very nearly forgotten what he'd once been like as a student. She
struggled for those memories now. Quiet, of course, and very bright,
but beyond that she found, much to her chagrin, he'd left no lasting
impression on her. With classmates like Black, Potter, and Lupin
though, she supposed someone like Severus, who generally preferred to
blend into the scenery as much as possible, would tend to fade
into the background. What would Hogwarts be like now though, with
Severus attending decades too late? The basic curriculum hadn't
changed, she supposed, but there would be things the other students
took for granted that would never have crossed his mind. If he
didn't have someone to rely on, he could end up looking rather
foolish, and if there was anything Severus Snape hated, she well knew
it was looking like a fool. No time to think on it now – she
moved back into position as the Wizengamot shuffled back into their
seats.

“...so the bloke casts this spell on my arm that removes all
the bones. All of them!” Harry had been in the middle of
telling Snape. “Bloody idiot...” he trailed off as if he
didn't realize how much time had passed and shifted back into his
seat.

Severus struggled a bit to regain his mask of indifference, but it
didn't quite carry to his dark eyes. At least he managed not to
fidget.

“Ahem,” the Minister of Magic said, waiting for silence
as he opened a scroll. Harry never understood why the scroll was
necessary at these things. Surely he was at the meeting and
therefore ought to remember what was decided five minutes later. But
then again, it was his future on the line, so maybe it was better
that he was absolutely certain, and if he needed a piece of parchment
to remember three sentences then Harry supposed that it was probably
in his best interest, in case the man had been laying on the
firewhiskey a bit too hard, or something. Why did his brain always
run off on ridiculous tangents when he was supposed to be listening
the most, anyway? This was important, he couldn't waste his time
casting sideways glances at Severus, who looked overly stiff, or
thinking about how he'd like to hold his hand – not for any
funny reasons, just moral support, you know? And he certainly
shouldn't be fidgeting like this. 'Dammit Harry, pay attention!
What are you, three?'

“...and so, it is the decision of the Wizengamot on this, the
7^th of June, 1998, that Mr. Harry Potter is released from
charges as regards the use of illegal magics.”

The courtroom burst out with cheers, but the Minister glared them
down. “It is the further decision,” he said with
a raised voice which silenced the boisterous cheering, “That in
the matter of illegal trespass into St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical
Maladies and Injuries, Mr. Potter will be charged a fine of
four-hundred galleons.”

Okay, that was going to put a dent in his bank account, but not one
he couldn't handle, and he was a free man, after all!

“...in service to the community for numerous instances of
magical misconduct, including but not limited to inspiring illegal
activities in others...” he was obviously referring to turning
Ron and Hermione into accomplices, “...it is the decision of
the Wizengamot that Mr. Potter will maintain custodial responsibility
for Mr. Snape until such time as he is of legal age...”
'Again,' Harry thought before what was just said hit him.
“...and graduated from Hogwarts Academy. Furthermore, the
Wizengamot wishes Mr. Potter to attend Hogwarts Academy in the coming
term to complete his education, and monitor Mr. Snape's condition as
it progresses.”

He rolled the scroll back up again and turned to Professor
McGonagall. “We will discuss the further intricacies of this
arrangement in the near future, Headmistress.”

McGonagall tilted her head in acknowledgment. Her lips were pursed
in annoyance that she wasn't to be trusted with Hogwarts matters –
Merlin knows there's been nothing but trouble thanks to Ministry
interference in the past, but all in all couldn't be more pleased
with the situation.

“Mr. Potter,” the Minister said. “It is the
Ministry's belief that, with this loose end tied up, St. Mungo's will
be glad to release Mr. Snape into your custody in the very near
future. Do see to it that a comfortable place is made for him within
your home.”

Harry nodded dumbly. Point one – no Azkaban. Okay, good. Point
two – look out for Snape. No problem, he was planning to do
that anyway. Point three – live with Snape. Okay, that means
no more wanking in the living room in front of the tele. Not a major
loss, there. Point four – go back to Hogwarts for another
year, with students a year beneath him...students that would include
Ginny. '...oh fuck me...' Harry groaned softly, but quickly
snapped out of it. “I, oh! Of course, sir. No problem.”

“Dismissed, then,” the Minister declared and Harry met
the skeptically raised brow Severus had pointed in his direction.
He'd heard that groan.

“Oh, no. I mean, balls, it's not you,” he
stumbled. “It's just...er...well, you know...” he
bungled. “My house isn't very friendly, is all,” he
finished lamely. He had all summer to figure out how to talk to
Ginny now that they weren't dating and weren't going to be dating.
She'd be great about it – she was great about everything.
Right?

'I am so
screwed...' Harry thought
dismally. Even the bright afternoon sunshine and the smell of
freedom couldn't quite lift his mood.

TO
BE CONTINUED...
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Young At Heart