Author's note

Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcome and cherished, always ;)

CHAPTER 1

A NEW PAGE

The moment the judge declares "free of all charges", the courtroom explodes in applause and Snape suddenly finds himself in a breath-squeezing hug.

"POTTER!," he yells.

The brat does well to release him before being brushed off. In a blink, Snape's eyes catch a familiar form in a far corner who seems to be struggling to decide which direction to go. He quietly tells Potter and the others - the team who have been working to patch him up and clear his name after the Battle of Hogwarts:

"Please excuse me for a moment."

Snape briskly elbows his way towards the corner. The blond young man is now standing still and staring at his approaching former teacher.

"H... hello, sir," he finally utters, long after Snape has arrived in front of him.

"Hello, Draco."

Silence endures when Draco takes a thorough look at his once favourite teacher, his Head of House, the professor who was an evil bat to all the other kids meanwhile spoiling him to no end.

"I... I have been searching for you," he says with a shaking voice.

"I know," Snape gently nods. "Potter knew, and he told me. But I couldn't see you. I was paralyzed to my bed and had been in hiding up until yesterday. I..."

"Potter...," Draco interrupts. "I could do nothing for you all this time. Potter, he hided you, he protected you, he healed you and vouched for you. Meanwhile I..."

"Yes, he did. He did help me because he could. You were in a different situation, Draco, you shouldn't blame yourself," Snape comforts.

Draco sighs and drops his head to hide the streak of tears strolling down.

"How are you now, sir?"

"I am fine. Will you be back to school for your seventh year?"

"I was expelled, sir."

It is not surprising, but Snape is taken by surprise nevertheless.

"It was ruled by the court. Professor McGonagall tried to help me, but failed."

"I see."

Snape sighs. Fire has ceased, but they, the war survivors, still have plenty of aftermath to deal with.

"If you do want to take your NEWTs, I can tutor you. All subjects. You can take it as a free candidate."

Draco raises his eyes to meet his teachers', speechless. There again he is having that reassuring nod and the reassuring voice:

"From tomorrow I will be back at my home in Cokeworth. Come any time. Just send me an owl in advance."

"Thank you, sir."

The crowd in the courtroom has long dismissed, leaving only them two and the group standing with Potter in another corner. Draco sighs again:

"I won't take more of your time, sir. I will owl you later."

With that he disappears behind the dark, heavy iron doors.

All those months Snape has been longing for the moment he can finally leave Number 12 Grimmauld Place, preferrably forever, and today he thought he would do exactly that right after the last dinner with Potter and the ones who have helped him. Yet he ends up staying for another cup of tea next to the fireplace with Potter, of all people.

"So," Snape says silkily, "Harry Potter is back to public life again. When are you starting your Auror training?"

"Not any time soon, sir. It might have escaped your notice but I kind of played truant the whole seventh year. I have to go back to school now to make up for that, unless you are going to come back as the headmaster and decide to expel me for good," Potter smirks, defiantly as ever.

"I have been labouring under the impression that the Ministry of Magic cannot care less whether Auror Potter has his NEWTs or not?"

"I have given up the Auror thing. I have had enough of fighting, sir," Potter sighs, dancing flames reflected on he lens of his glasses.

"What career are you going to grace with your pursuit now, then?"

"I plan to apply to the Academy of Healing Arts. I want to become a Healer."

"Healer?," Snape raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

Potter doesn't answer, only sighs.

"I asked Professor McGonagall. She permitted me to come back. Now if you are going to come back and reclaim your headmaster position, then I will ask you," he smirks again, still defiantly as ever.

"I have never seen you willing to put that much effort into Potions."

Potter puts down his tea cup and reaches for something on the fireplace mantel. It is an old notebook. He opens its at the first page and hands it to Snape.

Snape frowns at the lines of childish handwriting:

Bewitch the mind

Ensnare the scenes

Brew glory

Put stopper in death

"In case you have forgotten," Potter speaks as if he wanted to drill each and every word into his former teacher, "that was your opening speech for first year's Potions class, and the page you are looking at is the notes I was passionately taking while you spoke. In case you have forgotten again, you reprimanded me for not paying attention, which was and has always been a false accusation."

Snape rolls his eyes. He should definitely have left long ago and saved himself the trouble of facing this. He opens his mouth, intending to inform Potter that it was not the only false accusation he ever made in his entire teaching career, but he shuts it. Totally against his will, he says instead:

"I apologize."

"No, you are not forgiven."

Before Snape can even think of a reaction, Potter looks him straight in the eyes and dictates:

"You must right your wrong, by action. You must compensate for five years of pleasant Potions lessons that you unjustly denied me. You must help me enter the Academy of Healing Arts. Help me become a Healer."

Snape quietly closes the old notebook in his hands, bearing the look of those emerald eyes.

"Please, sir," Potter nods, both his voice and his face turning serious.

The deal is marked with a thwack to the back of the cheeky brat's head with his own Potions notebook.