Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters; JK Rowling does

Things Change, by silentauror

Chapter 1: Turning Seventeen

Harry Potter lay awake in the Dursley's darkened house, watching the numbers on the clock beside his bed. 11:59pm. It had been 11:59pm forever. His eyes blurred slightly, from fatigue, then snapped open again as the numbers finally changed. 12:00am. He was seventeen years old. Seventeen years old, and carrying a few secrets by now.

Ron and Hermione knew about the prophecy. They were about to enter their seventh year, and this would be it. Either their last year together, or else Voldemort's downfall. They would be there for him, like always, but in the end, it would be up to him. Harry just hoped he would be able to save them all, for he was the world's only chance. He had not yet stopped asking the universe why, of all people, it had to be him. Clumsy, sometimes foolish, him, who vastly preferred quidditch to any class or discipline, and certainly to battle of any kind. Unless it was with Malfoy. That was different.

What he had not yet told them was that he was probably gay. It wasn't that he thought they would mind. It was just that he thought they had enough to think about, regarding him and his problems. Plus, it was about time they stopped thinking about him so much and finally realized they liked each other. The timing seemed right. Hermione was no longer writing to Viktor Krum, nor he to her. Hermione said they'd just "drifted apart". Harry noticed that Ron had reacted with studied indifference and not commented at all – which was highly unusual for him. Perhaps he was learning something after all. Probably not quickly enough for Hermione, though, who had noticed Ron's painful avoidance of the subject and quirked a quick grin at Harry. And, glad though he would be – devoutly glad – Harry was just waiting for it to happen already so that he could get adjusted to the feeling of being left out of their relationship, of having no one himself.

No one. Harry curled up into a ball on his side and went tried to persuade himself to go to sleep. Sweet seventeen, and still never kissed – by a boy, at least. He wondered if Dumbledore knew. The man seemed to know everything. He wondered if knowing would change Dumbledore's mind about him. Probably not. He probably knew stranger things about other people. Still musing to himself, Harry fell asleep.

A week later, Harry received the long-awaited owl inviting him to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, for the remainder of the summer. He went, joyfully, leaving the Dursleys for another year. Only a few days after having arrived, Mrs. Weasley came upstairs to the room that Harry shared with Ron to ask him to come downstairs.

"What is it?" Harry asked, getting up at once.

Mrs. Weasley fixed him with a stern look. "Harry, I'm only going to tell you if I can trust you to behave yourself nicely when I say."

Harry felt a surge of indignation arise. Since when had Mrs. Weasley taken to lecturing him about his behaviour? "Okay," he said, trying to conceal his sudden anger. "What is it?"

She gave him a hard look. "Dumbledore and Professor Snape are here to see you."

Harry fought down the obvious reaction to the latter. He forced his voice to sound calm. "Okay. What for?"

Seeming relieved, Mrs. Weasley said, "I don't know, Harry. They'll explain themselves, I'm sure. Now, I want you to be civil to Professor Snape – just try, do you hear me? He is an Order member, after all."

Harry nodded numbly. "Alright. I will if he is."

"No," said Mrs. Weasley sharply, "you must be, whether or not he is. Be the bigger man if you must be, Harry."

Harry had a sudden mental image of his scrawny self attempting to tower over Snape's definitely taller form and suppressed the urge to giggle. "Okay. Fine. I'll try."

She turned left on the landing, explaining that she had to clean something in there, and to go on downstairs. Harry went. Feeling very reluctant, he opened the kitchen door and went inside, closing it after himself.

Dumbledore and Snape were sitting at the table; Dumbledore at the end and Snape at the side. Dumbledore waved at the seat beside him, across from Snape, and called, "Come and join us, Harry. We just have a matter to discuss."

Heart sinking horribly, wondering what matter had to be discussed between himself and Snape, Harry took the offered seat. "What is it?" He asked quickly, avoiding looking at Snape.

Dumbledore studied Harry patiently, a look of – was it pity? – crossing his old, lined face. "Harry. Turn your face away from me. Look your professor in the eye."

Totally confused, and not wanting to obey at all, Harry started to ask, "But – why, sir?"

"Just do it, Harry." Dumbledore's voice was firm.

Harry, eyes not leaving Dumbledore's face, struggled for a moment longer, then gave in. He turned his head straight and looked at the man seated across from himself. Snape. His eyes were the first thing Harry noticed. Dark, but, unusually, not glittering out of malice or spite directed at himself. The hair. Longish. Black, with no grey. Greasy, like always. The face. Lined. Wary. Watching Harry as he scanned the features. The nose. Famous for its hooked shape, but really not that unusually large or disfigured.

"Well?" Dumbledore's voice was gentle.

"Well what, sir?" Harry asked, turning back to Dumbledore.

"Was that so hard?"

"Sir?" Harry was almost more confused then he'd ever been.

The voice was still soft. "Harry. I wanted you to have and take the chance to look at Severus Snape as a human being for once, rather than as this person who merely exists to cause you grief. You two are like my own sons. I have had enough of your behaviour – I mean both of you," he added, before Harry could protest, "I am well aware of the bad behaviour that has occurred on both your parts. There are many issues between you two that need resolution. This will need to occur. You know, Harry, what must happen for the Order to win the war ahead of us. You know the pressure laid on you. As the Order, we are fully prepared to help you in every way possible. Severus is one of our best wizards, and utterly loyal. There are no two people more in my trust than the two of you. He can and will help you. You will need his help. I will not ask you to become friends, but I cannot abide this resistance between the two of you any longer. We can none of us afford it. I must insist that you begin your relationship again. From the beginning."

There was a bit of a silence. Harry looked at the table. Dumbledore continued. "I am hereby decreeing that the two of you meet on a regular basis, outside of class, to get to know one another and get yourselves to a state where you can work together without animosity. Beginning with tonight. Is that clear?"

Neither Severus nor Harry made a sound.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I hate to sound like a nagging parent – though that is indeed what I currently feel like – but in order to assure you both some measure of trust in me and protection from one another, I will be leaving Fawkes to watch over your meetings until you feel that you trust one another sufficiently not to need him. Needless to say, if he feels that anything I would not approve of is occurring – hurtful words or actions, in other words – he will let me know at once and I will intervene. I hope this will never be necessary."

Dumbledore looked at the two. Suddenly he smiled fondly. "How are alike you are, in so many ways," he said, "though I realize that at the present, neither of you are happy with this idea. These meetings are not optional, I'm afraid. I must have order within my Order. You may proceed. Good night!"