"Another one?" Snape's eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.
"Ginny wanted a girl," Harry sighed. "At least she got one this time, I'm not sure I have the energy for any more than three."
"I trust what you fail to produce will be made up by the remaining Weasley children and their spouses," Snape rolled his eyes in disgust. "Thank Merlin I no longer have to teach any of them." Harry chuckled.
"So you've retired?" Snape redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand.
"Yeah," Harry sighed again. "I got tired of it – chasing after the bad guys. I don't have the stomach for it anymore."
"You're a bit young for retirement," Snape mused, "Whatever shall you do to fill your time?"
"I could come back here!" Harry half-joked.
"Absolutely not," Snape was not amused.
"No," Harry said softly, "I suppose I can't. Anyway, I'll be busy doing functions for the Ministry. Consulting, ambassador work, the like."
Snape snorted, "A consultant? For what, how to escape death?"
"Ha, bloody ha," Harry sneered. "You know, I happen to be quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'll have you know."
"Well, you don't need to tell me that," Snape waved his hand in front of him as if stating the obvious.
"Was that a compliment, Professor?" Harry widened his eyes in shock.
"It's Headmaster, Potter, and it most certainly was not a compliment," Snape huffed.
"Yes, perish the thought that you might say something indicating anything but your hatred of me," Harry let the comment out with a bit too much hurt for it to be taken lightly.
Snape let out a gust of air, "Don't be such an infant, Potter. You know I don't hate you."
"Maybe not anymore," Harry said in a low voice, staring at his knees like a school boy.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter, I never hated you. Surely you must know that by now," Snape was exasperated.
"You had a funny way of showing your 'not-hatred' of me," Harry sulked.
"I refuse to inflate your monstrous ego any further, Potter," Snape snapped, picking up a quill and some unidentified paperwork from his desk. "If the only reason you are here is to garner compliments and praise, I suggest you go find someone else. Minerva always seemed more than willing to champion you."
Harry looked at Snape with an indefinable look in his eyes. "It's not the same," he responded quietly.
"Not the same?" Snape shifted forward in his chair, quill poised above the paper, ink ready to drip. "What's not the same?"
"Hearing it from other people. It's not the same as hearing it from you," Harry stated nervously.
Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Please tell me you don't hold me in some pedestaled regard, Potter, I don't think I could bear it."
"No, not on a pedestal, but I think besides Dumbledore I might be the only one who knows a little bit about the true you. And I think you're probably the only one who knows the real me." Harry closed his eyes and sighed wearily, feeling decades older than he should.
"Go home to your wife and children, Harry," Snape ordered him. "You're becoming remarkably sappy, and that is something that bodes well for neither of us."
Harry pursed his lips, deciding whether or not to argue with the man across from him. Finally, he stood up, resolved, and headed for the door. Just before he exited, however, he threw a glance over his shoulder. "We'll have to air it out one day, you know," he said, just loud enough for Snape to hear it.
Snape didn't respond to Harry, and he watched as the thick door closed silently behind the retreating frame. Knowing now that he wouldn't be heard, he replied, "All too soon, Harry. But not today."
