It was not a complete surprise to Harry when his wards finally failed on the second day of May, and Hermione came storming into the sitting room at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with Ron lurking meekly behind her. Once she saw Harry—huddled on the couch and wrapped in its afghan, so as it would hide his pregnancy from all he wished not to see it—she let out a shout of exasperation and darted towards him, throwing her arms around him, to the point where Harry actually believed he would suffocate. Thankfully, once he looked to Ron for help, his best mate stepped in and helpfully pulled Hermione off of him, while Harry summoned Kreacher to bring in a tea tray for them all.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said, glaring at her fiancé as she smoothed her blouse and skirt combo, and sat petulantly in the love seat beside the couch, crossing her legs at the knee, but nevertheless allowed Ron to sit upon the loveseats' arm. "Well, now, Harry, now that we're finally in the same room with you again..."

"Hermione," Ron said warningly, and she flushed pink. "Don't start. Kingsley'll be mad that we even managed to break through here in the first place. The last thing we need is the Minister for Magic on our tails now that we work for the government."

Harry blinked, thanking Kreacher minutely before he turned back to Ron and Hermione. "You're working for the government?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, mate. I'm a head for one of the task forces in charge of bringing Death Eaters to Azkaban," he explained. "It'll look good on my resume for when I make Auror, and McGonagall signed a waiver so I don't have to graduate, which means I can focus all my time on the program itself."

Harry nodded. "And you, Hermione?"

"What else? I'm in training for the new division at the ministry," she said softly. "We've decided to call it, for now, at least, Muggle Civil Rights within the Wizarding World," she explained, and her eyes were shining with excitement. "I'm sort of the barrister within the organization, and you'd be surprised how much of a benefit Draco has been."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Once Lucius and Narcissa found out that he and Neville were expecting their first grandchild, all they want to do is see him happy. Draco is the treasurer of sorts within the organization, rallying and networking other witches and wizards to donate as much as possible to the cause, or as much as he can, due to his pregnancy. It's really going along as best as can be expected, although there is some reluctance from the older Pure-Blood families within this new regime. Of course, having a reformed Pure-Blood among them is causing a lot of them to turncoat the old ways, thankfully."

Harry nodded. "I can understand that."

"We've also come to present you with this," Hermione said, handing him an ivory and cream-colored envelope, with drawn-up lace embellishments upon the sides and in the corners.

"Thanks," Harry replied, taking ahold of it and opening it carefully.

It was an invitation, written in black cursive, which read, You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Miss Hermione Jean Granger and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, to be held on the fifth of May 1998, at the home of Mr. Arthur Weasley and Mrs. Molly Weasley, the Burrow, located in Ottery St. Catchpole, in Devon, England. Reception to follow.

"You did say you'd come, mate," Ron said, as Harry raised his eyes to his best friend. "And, if I remember correctly, you also said you'd be Best Man."

Harry sighed, lowering the invitation. "Thanks, Ron," he said.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry hunched his shoulders. "It's just... I suppose I'm surprised at how much the Wizarding World has moved on without me," he said quietly.

"We've spent every spare minute we have worrying about and looking you, mate," Ron said quickly, which successfully managed to bring Hermione back down to earth. "We've spent all these meetings with Kingsley, begging him to reveal where you've been."

Harry mulled that over for a moment. "Just you two?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione burst out. "Not just us—you wouldn't believe the tight-knit group we've managed to accumulate, Harry. It's me and Ron, of course, plus Ginny and Dean, Luna and Rolf, and Neville and Draco. You mean a lot to us, Harry, and we just wanted to make sure that you were all right."

Harry sighed. "I appreciate all that, I do," he said quietly. "But what you've got to understand is me wanting to be alone had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. A lot has happened these past few weeks, and... It's rather difficult to explain."

Ron gazed at his closest friend before finally shaking his head. "Would you mind repeating that, Harry, or, at least, explain it a bit better?"

Hermione nodded, worrying her bottom lip. "Please, Harry. We're your best friends. All we want to do is try and understand the situation, and help you, if we can."

Harry's shoulders slumped slightly then as he leaned back against the couch. "You can't really help the situation, Hermione," he said quietly, and kept right on talking, as he knew her well enough to know she would interrupt him with a flurry of potential solutions. "But, perhaps, if I told you, and showed you, what's been going on with me, you would understand my need to be alone, now more than ever."

"Show and tell us, mate," Ron said quietly, which caused Harry to look up again. "It's all right, and no matter what it is, we're here for you."

Harry swallowed then, keeping the afghan around him as he levitated his tea cup and got to his feet, before he dropped the afghan and straightened his shirt, which was just beginning to stretch over his stomach, now that he was four months gone. He slowly raised his eyes to Ron and Hermione then, and they both looked shocked. "So, yeah, there's that," he said, quickly returning to his spot on the couch and gathering the afghan back around him, and took his teacup back into his hands.

"Is it...?" Hermione asked, her tone tentative.

"Yeah, of course it's Severus's," Harry said, his tone slightly defensive. "I love him. I want to marry him, but..."

"But? What is it, mate?" Ron asked.

"We never discussed children," Harry replied, quieter this time. "I mean, we discussed being together for the rest of our lives, but maybe... Maybe once he finds out I left him, bleeding out, in the headmaster's office, and looked at his memories—again—without permission... There's no way in hell he'd forgive me a second time," Harry said, feeling the fat tears well into before they escaped his eyes. "I mean, forgiving a sniveling and disrespectful fifteen-year-old? Perhaps that could be done.. Forgive a seventeen-year-old man who claims to love you, more than life itself or anyone else in the world, before leaving you to die while he goes out to save the goddamned Wizarding World? No chance."

"You can't know that, Harry," Hermione said quietly.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, wiping his tears. "You in contact with him?"

"He's still in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, mate," Ron said, and Harry's eyes snapped to his in a moment of shock. "Madam Pomfrey said Snape had a lot of underlying issues—including his weight—that could take months to repair."

Harry blinked, shocked. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"Apparently, Voldemort's dagger was laced with something that Madam Pomfrey is still unable to identify," Hermione said softly. "She's been trying everything, and wants to send him to St. Mungo's, but on Snape's salary, he'd never be able to afford it."

Harry's eyes popped out of his head. "Well, isn't he awake?!" he cried out, looking from one of them to the other. "Maybe it's a potion of some kind..."

"That's what Madam Pomfrey thinks, mate," Ron said, nodding. "The problem is, she's keeping him in a coma to remedy the other issues, so he hasn't been brought out of it to identify the cuts on his throat yet."

"This is ridiculous," Harry cried out then, pulling his wand out from beneath the afghan then and remembered his first time with Severus in Sherwood Forest. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried out then, and his stag appeared. "Go to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts with this message," he ordered the animal. "This is Harry Potter. Please see to it that Headmaster Snape is taken directly to St. Mungo's for treatment. As for the payment, instruct the employees there to draw it out from the Potter family vault at Gringotts. Please have them inform me directly if there is any update to his condition." Harry nodded to the stag then, who bowed to him, and then flitted off through the window and into London.

"You sure that's a good idea, mate?" Ron asked.

"After all, this is Snape we're talking about," Hermione said softly.

Harry sighed, gripping his wand in his hand. "I'm afraid that don't really know what ideas are good or not any longer," he said quietly. "All I know is, I'm in love with Severus Snape, and I won't permit those I love to suffer."

. . .

Harry was thankful that Draco had informed him of the spells he'd used to conceal his pregnancy when keeping it and his relationship with Neville under wraps. Harry casted the spell perfectly, and was able to fit into the beautiful dress robes he'd bought to serve as Best Man at Ron and Hermione's wedding at the Burrow. He straightened the red silk tie within his white button-down shirt, and all he could think about was Severus, when he should have been at least attempting to memorize his Best Man's speech, which he'd spent the last seventy-two hours writing and revising for the wedding party.

As he mumbled the words under his breath for what must've been the thousandth time, a quiet knock on the door behind him scattered his thoughts. He charmed the tie into place and turned around, making a grab for his suit jacket as he did. "Yeah?" he called out.

The doorknob turned and Ginny stood on the threshold, her green silk gown looking brilliant on her as she smiled at him. "There you are," she said, stepping into the room and assisting him with his jacket. She laughed indulgently then, and helped him with his tie. "Never were very good at these, were you?"

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. "Apparently not."

Ginny smiled up at him, brushing the dust from his shoulders and nodding in approval. "The Groomsmen and Bridesmaids are just about to walk out," she said softly. "Which means it's almost time for the Best Man and Maid of Honor to take their places at the entrance before Hermione walks out with Mr. Granger."

Harry nodded, giving himself a final once-over in the mirror before he moved towards the door, arm-in-arm with Ginny. "And... Dean's not pissed that I'm walking out with you, is he?" he asked, knowing that, as nice a bloke as Dean was, he seemed pretty upset when Harry and Ginny had kissed in the Gryffindor common room the year before after the Quidditch match. "He won't break another goblet, will he?"

Ginny laughed and shook her head as they walked down the spiraled staircase. "No, of course he won't, Harry," she said with a smile. "I..." She looked around then, and whispered, "When I was in the hospital wing, I only let Hermione come to see me," she explained. "In the bed next to me was Snape and... Hermione told me," she whispered, and Harry's eyes immediately snapped to hers in worry. "Don't worry, I won't say anything," she said quickly, before she kissed him on the cheek. "If I'm honest, I was relieved."

Harry blinked. "Relieved?"

Ginny nodded earnestly. "Yes, relieved," she told him. "I mean, I just never knew if it was something I did wrong, in our relationship, but you never seemed as into snogging—or anything else we did—as I was. And then it hit me, once Hermione told me about you and him," she said, carefully leaving Severus's name out of it in case someone was listening, "that I couldn't be happier for you. I'm with Dean, and things are wonderful. And, once he wakes up and you two can talk, I think you'll be better than ever."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry replied, and she squeezed his arm. "Wait a moment," he said, pulling her back to his side, and she looked innocently up at him. "What were you doing in the hospital wing, anyway? Are you all right?"

She sighed. "I am now," she replied. "The short version is that the Carrows caught me trying to contact you, to make sure you were all right," she said quickly. "Well, I was hit upon the head and they took me down to the dungeons."

"What happened?" Harry asked, his tone clipped.

"They tortured me," she said softly. "They used Crucio, and immobilized me so that I couldn't cry out for help or to beg them to stop. But, it even surprised Hermione when I told her that I saved myself."

Harry blinked. "Saved yourself?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes. I was able to use my inner magic to break free of the bonds placed upon me, and I killed them, but not before they killed a part of me, too..."

Harry shook his head. "A part of you? Your innocence from killing, you mean?"

Ginny sighed. "Somewhat, I suppose. But it was far worse than what they took from me that night... A child," she said.

Harry shook his head. "A child?"

"Dean's and mine," Ginny said softly, forcing herself not to cry. "I wasn't due until this summer, and Dean and I... Well, you know we're going to be married," she said, and Harry nodded. "It was unplanned, the pregnancy, but Dean and I were so happy about it. And then when it all came crashing down, with what the Carrows did to me, I was afraid that he wouldn't want me anymore and that it all would be for nothing..."

Harry stepped forward then and pulled Ginny into his arms. "Dean's not that kind of person. He loves you, Ginny, I've seen it."

"And you love Severus," Ginny whispered, her voice slightly muffled against his chest. "I am so pleased that we each found our loves, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Me, too," he replied.

They continued walking out towards the tent, which had been conjured to stand upon the Burrow's land, and had been changed to gold and red, Gryffindor's colors. Stepping inside the tent and walking down the aisle, Harry spotted the Groomsmen, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Draco, Rolf, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George, as well as the Bridesmaids, Luna, Angelina Johnson, Parvati and Padma Patil, Katie Bell, Hannah Abbott, Fleur Delacour, and finally her little sister, Gabriella. Harry and Ginny quickly moved to their places at the heads of the lads and ladies respectively, and Ron stepped into the front of the tent then, clasping each of his Groomsmen's hands before embracing Harry, and turned towards the tents' entrance.

An old wizarding song was played by the band, which had been hired for the day, as Hermione stepped through the tents' flap upon her father's arm. Hermione was beaming, and Mr. Granger looked very proud to be sharing in this moment with his daughter. Hermione was wearing a trumpet-style wedding dress, all in white, with thin straps, and a lovely skirt that thankfully managed not to trip her as she came up the aisle. Mr. Granger kissed his daughter on the cheek before going to sit beside Mrs. Granger in the front row on the brides' side, and Hermione and Ron joined hands and turned to face the wizard justice of the peace.

"Dear witches, wizards, and Muggles alike," the justice of the peace began, "we are gathered here today in beautiful Devon, to join together Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, in matrimony. Through their school years, these two were constant companions, and the best of friends, and now, they take their first steps to coming together as husband and wife. It is with courage, nerve, chivalry, and daring, that brought these two together, and it is those things, and so much more, which will keep them together. For marriage not only needs those things, but also loyalty, honesty, respect, admiration, and love—always love. For it is with great love that Ron and Hermione are joined together today by all of you, who stand to support them when they decide to join their families as one." The man turned to Ron then, allowing his words to sink in for a moment, before he continued, "Ron, do you take Hermione to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love, and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Ron nodded, grinning at Hermione. "I do."

"And do you, Hermione," the justice of the peace went on, turning to her, "take Ron to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, to love, and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Hermione smiled then, as tears lay suspended in her lashes. "I do," she replied.

"May I have the rings, please?" the man asked.

Hermione handed her bouquet to Ginny, while Harry handed the rings to Ron.

"With this ring, I promise to be faithful to you alone," Ron said, and slipped the ring onto the third finger of Hermione's left hand.

"With this ring, I promise to be faithful to you alone," Hermione said, and too slipped the ring onto the third finger of Ron's hand.

"In saying these vows, you have promised to live together as husband and wife for as long as you both shall live. I bless you both," said the justice, smiling at them. "May I now present to you, for the very first time, Mr. Ron and Mrs. Hermione Weasley?"

. . .

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and promised them that he would try and take better care of himself whilst they were in the South of France for their honeymoon. He decided it best to set Grimmauld Place to rights and, with Kreacher's help, turned the old musty-smelling rooms into open spaces, full of new possibilities. He spent the next four days in this fashion, going over plans with his house-elf, constantly listening to the old soul's new ideas, and found that Kreacher himself was very excited about Harry's pregnancy, which touched him.

It was on the fourth day that Harry, after working for a few hours in the morning, took a shower and decided to take the afternoon off, received an unexpected visitor. It was a mouse Patronus, likely the smallest he'd ever seen, and he watched the little thing scurry about, just as he was about to tuck into a sandwich lunch. "Speak," he said to his visitor.

"If you would pardon me, please, Mr. Potter," came the sound of a kind woman's voice from the small rodent, "but Headmaster Severus Snape has awoken at St. Mungo's."

Harry's eyes widened then as he nodded. "Thank you," he said, and the mouth let out a little squeak before it disappeared. Harry told Kreacher where he was going, and stepped into a pair of shoes and socks before summoning a sweater that hid him well, and advanced upon the fireplace in the parlor. "St. Mungo's Wizarding Hospital," he bellowed, throwing in the powder and stepping into the green flames.

Harry found himself in the main lobby of the hospital and, for a moment, at least, was a bit overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle around him. He was reminded of his first time in Diagon Alley with Hagrid, all those years ago, and wondered how he would find his way around. At least, back then, he had a half-giant to guide him; now, he was all alone, so he summoned all of his Gryffindor courage and marched up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," he said.

The receptionist looked up then and nearly fell out of her chair when she saw who was speaking to her, and flushed pink. "Mr. Potter!" she said, swallowing. "Headmaster Snape is on the third floor. You'll be directed further once there."

"Thank you," Harry said. He Apparated quickly to the third floor, coming across another desk, and the second woman told him that he would find Headmaster Snape in room 307. Harry nodded then and walked down the hallway, his heartbeat entering his throat then as he walked up to the door, and hesitantly unlocked it. "Severus?"

The raven-haired man sat in the bed before him, eyes closed, but Harry could tell from his breathing that he was either lightly dozing or resting his eyes. He stiffened when he came closer, those obsidian eyes of his snapping open, and that familiar sneer entered his expression, which caused Harry to draw back. "Oh. It's you."

Harry swallowed then and kept his distance; two years ago, he would've been surprised at this response, given that there was less malice in his voice than he'd been used to as a young teenager at Hogwarts. Now, it was beyond surprising, considering all that they had been through together in the last several months. Perhaps he had forgotten?"

"Severus, it's me," Harry said softly, hoping to reach him.

"Yes, I know who you are," Severus replied, his tone annoyed. "The Chosen One, the Boy who Lived—the boy who loves to interfere."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry?"

"I was fully prepared to die, you know," he said, his tone butter. "My throat was cut beyond repair, but someone had to meddle and fix it. I was crying in what I assumed to be the hour of my death, but someone saw fit to take my memories from me. I should've been rotting in the hospital wing at Hogwarts but—oh, no—someone heard about it and moved me to St. Mungo's and paid the entirety of my bill for me."

"Are you quite finished?!" Harry burst out then, tired of this old act of Severus's—back when he had served Voldemort, it was necessary, but now. "Don't you remember anything, Severus?! I asked you something very important before I left—"

"That's just it, isn't it?" Severus snapped, not allowing Harry to continue. "You left. You left me there to die, Harry."

"I tended to your wounds to ensure you wouldn't die!" Harry shot back. "Then I summoned Madam Pomfrey so that she could fix what I could not!"

"You pilfered my memories," Severus spat, glaring at him with menace. "Are you going to apologize for that, boy?!"

Harry felt as if cold air was blasting his body then. He shivered from it, and his eyes snapped closed then as he trembled. He didn't want to go back to that memory for as long as he lived, but he was driven to it because...

"Boy!" came the scream, and Harry was immediately back at Number Four, Privet Drive, after all this time. "I know you're going back to that freaky little school of yours, and then you likely won't see us again..."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied.

Vernon Dursley's eyes flared at the notion that his nephew had spoken without permission, and he immediately thwacked him across the face, sending him to the floor. "Almost," he muttered then, hauling him up slightly so that he could turn him over onto his stomach.

No, no, no...

"Come on," he grunted, positioning his nephew the way he liked. "You've got to reward me for us putting up with you all these years—"

"Don't!" Harry shouted then, struggling for the first time against those meaty hands of his. "I don't want this! Don't touch me! I'm not yours!"

"You're bloody well mine until I tell you otherwise!" Vernon growled at Harry. "After all these years we fed you, clothed you, gave you Dudley's second bedroom," he went on, grabbing ahold of Harry's belt and yanking it off him, before tearing off his jeans and boxers, "and what do we have to show for it? Absolutely nothing!" he hissed, pulling down his own trousers and underwear before positioning himself at Harry's entrance. "Don't struggle, boy!" he hissed in his ear as he forced his way in, causing Harry to cry out before Vernon covered his mouth with that massive hand of his. "You know it'll be worse for you if you do!"

"POTTER!"

Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of Severus addressing him by his first name, which he had not done when they were alone since his sixth year. Harry felt a lump forming in his throat then as he stared at him, doing his best not to sob. "You truly don't remember anything that transpired between us?" he whispered brokenly.

Severus rolled his eyes. "You are a teenager, prone to flights of fancy, and when my warm bed presented itself, you hopped in," he sneered. "It obviously meant nothing to you."

Harry shook his head. "That's not true! I love—!"

"You are a boy!" Severus thundered, and Harry's words died away from the impact of his lover's booming voice. "You know nothing of the world, let alone of love! You bring death and devastation to all, Potter. You may have killed Voldemort, but that was your purpose in life, you destiny. Now that that is done..." He spread his hands. "There is nothing else."

"Severus, please," Harry begged, stepping closer. "Please, just listen. Just let me say one thing more and, after that, if you want me to go, I will. Just allow me to say one thing, and then I'll walk out of your life forever, if you wish it—"

"I wish it now!" Severus screamed then, glaring at Harry. "Get the fuck out of my hospital room and never come back! I never want to see you again if it is not absolutely necessary! Get out now, I say, you useless boy!"

Harry stumbled backwards at the hate-filled words, not knowing what else to do. It was in that moment that the child within him—their child—began kicking profusely, almost begging to be made known to its other father. However, unknowing if Harry would ever find that Severus again, he found himself turning his back on him, determined to protect his child at all costs. It broke him that Severus had said he had no purpose, and as he Apparated out of there, he knew just how wrong that statement was.

. . .

Two days later, Harry couldn't stand continuing to lock himself in Grimmauld Place any longer, so he ventured out to the Burrow. Knowing that Ron and Hermione wouldn't be there saddened him greatly, but he was happy for them that they could get away from England for a while. He made his way inside, nevertheless, knowing that Arthur would likely be at work, while Molly was at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur at this time on Mondays.

"Harry?"

He looked up at the sound of Ginny's voice, and he felt his entire world cave in. He felt the tears come that wouldn't two days before, and he felt comforted as Ginny rushed forward and pulled him into her arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he blubbered as she gently pulled him towards the couch and sat down with him, yet never took her arms off from around him, as she gently whispered soothing words in his ear. "I wish I could've loved you, I really do. Things would've been so much easier if I just could've..."

"Perhaps," she whispered. "But I know you love Snape—"

This only made Harry sob louder, which made Ginny wonder if she had said the wrong thing. "I cannot love him!" Harry moaned.

"I heard he was awake," she said softly. "Did something happen?"

"Everything!" Harry cried out, pulling back from her and putting his face in his hands. "I paid for his stay at St. Mungo's, and he wasn't too pleased."

Ginny sighed. "I'm sorry."

"That isn't all," Harry whispered, and Ginny waited for him to continue. "When Voldemort slashed his throat, I used his spell so that he wouldn't die," he went on, and Ginny raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, anticipating Harry might want to speak further. "Then, he cried, so I gathered his tears and watched his memories..."

Ginny sighed. "Oh, Harry," she said quietly, "that is the second time you did so. Perhaps if Snape had given you permission..."

"I know, I know," Harry blubbered, shaking his head at how stupid he felt. "But I was able to take the knowledge from his memories to discover that..."

"Discover what?" Ginny asked.

"I was a Horcrux," he said, and Ginny gasped, covering her mouth. "I was the final Horcrux, one that Voldemort never meant to create."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered.

"He was also best friends with my mother," Harry went on, and Ginny raised her eyebrows. "It wasn't something I expected... But Dumbledore, when he found out that Severus cared for me, believed that it had to do with Severus's love for my mother..."

"It wasn't?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Severus told Dumbledore that it was me—all me. I suppose he felt compelled to protect me, at first, because of their friendship. But, during sixth year when everything changed, I think, his reasons turned into a new kind of love..."

"For you?"

Harry sighed. "I thought so," he replied. "But the way he sent me out of his hospital room like that, without listening to me..." His voice broke. "I never even got to tell him that I loved him, and he wouldn't listen when I wanted to tell him..."

Ginny sat closer then, placing a light hand on Harry's arm. When he didn't speak for a while, she said quietly, "I remember sitting here with you over Christmas."

Harry nodded. "I remember."

"It was just after Severus kissed you."

He sighed. "Yes."

"And yet, we began our relationship in April," Ginny said quietly, and Harry slowly raised his eyes to hers. "Why would you...?"

He shook his head. "At first, I didn't know why," he said quietly. "I suppose it had to do with the fact that I didn't know anyone like me, and I was ashamed..."

"You shouldn't have been," Ginny replied. "I would've been there for you, and would've understood it. We all would have."

Harry sighed, putting his face back into his hands. "With me training to hunt down Horcruxes to beat Voldemort, I suppose I saw you as a distraction, and I'm sorry for that," he admitted. "I saw me being gay as yet another obstacle to overcome, and I couldn't handle another one. However, dragging you into my drama was really unfair, inconsiderate, and selfish. I don't expect your forgiveness, Ginny, but know that I do apologize for it."

"There's nothing to forgive, Harry," Ginny said quietly, and smiled at him. "I was having problems with Dean before that because he couldn't get it into his thick head that I was with him for a reason. The reason was I was in love with him, and was the entire time. I think, once we broke up, everyone expected the two of us to happen, and when we did, things just fell into place naturally. I served as a decent enough distraction when you needed me, and, once we realized that we couldn't be together, you realized you wanted Snape, and I wanted Dean."

"I just wish it was easier," Harry moaned. "The fact that the two of us were in such a good place, only for it to go to hell when I decided to save his life, view his memories, and pay his hospital bills on his behalf..."

"You love him," Ginny said simply.

Harry sighed, getting to his feet and pulling off his sweater, and Ginny gasped at his fuller frame as he sank back down onto the couch. "Now I could spout some bullshit like this is the fruit of our love, and, before two days ago, it was..."

"Harry, when did you...?"

"January," he replied. "He found us hiding out in Sherwood Forest. It happened our first time together... I suppose it was because I wished for it, but I never assumed..."

"So, this is what you wanted to tell him, then?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Harry declined Ginny's invitation to stay for lunch or tea, and instead used the Burrow's Floo Network to return to Grimmauld Place. Ginny watched him go, before she made her way over to the fireplace, thinking to herself. "Connect me to Longbottom Lodge, Norfolk," Ginny ordered the flames in a hushed tone.

. . .

"Kreacher!" Harry called, and the house-elf popped into view as soon as he arrived.

"Yes, Master Harry?" Kreacher said, bowing.

"Please go into Diagon Alley and procure for me an owl," he said, adding a generous amount of Galleons to Kreacher's little duffel bag, which he carried about his waist. "And spare no expense at the menagerie, and listen to the employees about reliability."

"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher said, and snapped his fingers, and then he was gone.

Harry walked upstairs to his bedroom, passing the portrait who merely glared at him now, and let himself inside. He approached the desk next to the fireplace, finding his parchment, ink, and quills waiting for him, and proceeded to write. It didn't take him very long to write the letter, and he knew that it was high time that this got done.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I hope this letter finds you well. You know as well as I do that I was never one for pleasantries, and I know that running off like that to face Tom Riddle on my own was, as you would put it, impulsive to say the least. However, since you now know what I do, perhaps you are able to understand, if not trust, my judgment call on the matter.

As for the purpose of my writing this, enclosed with my owl you will find a vial. This vial will hold my tears, and thus, my memories. As he has refused to see me, I am entrusting this vial to you, to be delivered to Severus Snape at your earliest convenience. If you could, please refrain as long as you can in informing him whose memories they are, for I fear he will not view them if he knows the truth. Deception and cunning are not Gryffindor traits, which you and I know full well, but I am running out of ideas.

You should also know as I trust you as I would with my own life—for you were as much a mother to me during my school years as anyone could have been, (and I mean no flattery by this, it is just a simple face)—that Severus Snape and I were lovers. I am unsure if this will continue, now that he has made it clear he will not see me or stay in contact with me, but I would appreciate it if you told no one. Only a select few Weasley's know, and now that she is married into the family, Hermione counts in that bunch. I trust you will say nothing about it, for I am still unsure how he, and the rest of the Wizarding World, would react.

Please know this—I love him. We intended—at least, I intended—to spend the rest of my life with him once I killed Tom Riddle. But, like most of my life thus far, it seems that nothing directly involved with me can be seen or done in a simple manner. I am afraid that I have lost him, and I cannot do such a thing. The reasons, other than my love, are sensitive, and I wish to keep them close to me, for now, although I am sure you will know of the true reason when the opportunity formally presents itself.

Yours faithfully,

Harry Potter

There was a pop from behind him then and, upon turning around, Harry regarded Kreacher who carried a medium-sized cage in his hand, which Harry gratefully took from him. "Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, and Kreacher bowed before departing. Harry inspected the small owl from outside the case, before he cautiously opened the door and offered his arm to it.

Cautiously, the Northern saw-whet owl stepped from the cage and onto Harry's arm, staring up at him with wide yellow eyes. It shut its eyes and lowered its head slightly as Harry smoothed the feathers upon its head, and let out a small hooting sound.

"You're a sweet one," Harry said softly, offering the bird a bit of owl tidbit, which Kreacher had considerately returned with a bag of. "Think I'll call you Dulcis," he said softly to himself, and the little owl seemed to hoot happily in response. Harry summoned a vial from inside the top drawer of his desk—which still housed the letter from Severus—while Dulcis, whom he had placed on her new conjured perch upon the top of his desk, watched his movements intently and with apparent fascination. Harry thought again of the night that Voldemort had slashed Severus's throat and nearly killed him, and the tears formed easily, which he put into the vial he now held in his hands and stoppered it quickly. Wrapping up the letter, with the vial now inside, he tied it gently to Dulcis's claw before he opened the window. "Please take this to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, in the Scottish Highlands," he said.

Dulcis screeched in understanding to her new master, before flapping her winds and moving gracefully out the window, her wings catching the late spring sunlight in between her delicate and smooth feathers. Harry got to his feet then, his heart in his throat at the sight of his new friend, flying out into the distance, the sun on her back, hoping her journey was an easier one than the one he'd been forced to contend with for his entire life. As he stared, watching as she flew out of sight, Harry placed one hand upon his belly, while the other moved automatically to shut the window, and lowered his eyes to his other hand, the very purpose of his life flipping around within him, and giving him more comfort than he had felt in a great while.