X. Coming to Terms

But he slept late the next morning, until long after the sun was up. Feeling rushed, he did not even bother to comb back his sweaty mop of hair before barreling into the kitchen. "Easy there dear. Don't throw yourself into a tizzy." He could not believe who was standing there.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't expect to see you here." And the understatement of the year award goes to… She was standing bent over the stove, the smell of bacon wafting through the air. It was hypnotizing.

"Just came to check up on you, of course. Arthur will be here any minute." With that she came over and nearly squeezed the life out of him. "Well, sit down, dear." This woman was the closest thing he had to a mother. He was glad to see her, as always- but this time was different.

"Um… where is Professor Snape?" He had never thought he'd see the day where he preferred Snape's company to Mrs. Weasley's. But he could sit in quiet with Snape, and he honestly didn't feel like talking right now, even if they had things to discuss.

"In bed with a migraine. Professor McGonagall went back to take care of some things with the Headmaster." What things, he wanted to know. Asking would only get him scolded for being nosy, though. It was just then that he realized that she was looking at him funny. He hadn't even asked about McGonagall. "I am surprised you two didn't burn the house down." She set a plate of eggs in front of him. Don't be silly, Harry thought. But she couldn't know. A loud crash from the living room distracted him, and Mrs. Weasley hurried out. "Arthur, do be quiet! Severus had a bad headache; must you be so terribly noisy?" Harry snickered. If the initial sound hadn't woken him her fussing certainly would.

"Sorry, Molly…" Both reentered the room beaming. Mr. Weasley was brushing soot off from his suit still, from floo travel. "And hello to you, Harry."

"Hi, Mr. Weasley." He pushed his plate back. He had little appetite. "Where are the rest of them?" This did not escape Mrs. Weasley's sharp eye; she pushed it back to him like a fussy grandmother.

"Eat."

"The twins are more than capable," Mr. Weasley answered, and Harry grinned at that. Right, he must be insane. Then he noticed the wink. "As long as Ron is there to set them straight." The redhead sat down, taking in his surroundings. "So what did transpire to render your Professor incapable of joining us?" Harry felt nauseous. Snape had gotten ill at the very thought of killing the Headmaster. How could he explain? He just shook his head, over and over again. " You certainly didn't do anything to give him a headache, did you?" That idea, now, was positively ludicrous. Snape was never, ever absent from class.

"Nothing worse than usual." With that he began shoveling eggs in his mouth. They could have no idea what happened last night, he's teasing me like always. But he recognized that knot in this stomach he'd had upon waking up, if only for a brief instant- he was afraid Snape had abandoned him. It was legit fear- everybody else had. Even Sirius was gone.

"Oh, Arthur," chortled Mrs. Weasley, coming behind them with the pan of bacon. "So Harry dear I was wondering if you wanted to join us for some shopping in Diagon Alley." He wanted to be alone. He had taken it for granted, the big, almost empty house. He needed time to think. "We're meeting Hermione there." But not that much. He did want to go, just… not yet. Not now.

"I'd love to," he said, before he briefly remembered that he was supposed to be eating and began fiddling with a piece of the hot pork. Was there really only a month until school began? "And Happy Birthday, Harry," put in Mr. Weasley. "Sorry we couldn't drop by yesterday." Harry was glad they hadn't.

"Thanks. And thanks so much for the cake, Mrs. Weasley, it was really thoughtful." He had yet to touch it, but she was beaming as she rustled his hair.

"Better go tidy up this rat's nest if you insist on eating like a bird. Can we count on seeing you in two weeks?" she asked. Harry nodded because he couldn't do anything else, and was glad to depart with a small wave. He had not been hungry anyway. Harry showered and dressed as if in a race and was utterly shocked to find someone waiting for him in the hallway.

"Dobby!" The little elf was bouncing up and down; he wasn't wearing his usual stack of tea-hats that had been the result of Hermione's S.P.E.W. operations.

"Dobby is very glad to see Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is always honored to see Harry Potter." With that he gave a sort of squeal that made Harry smile.

"You certainly seemed surprised to see me."

"Headmaster Dumbledore sent Dobby to check on Professor Snape, but he is not telling Dobby what is wrong with him, sir! And he is not saying you is here too, Harry Potter, sir!" That did sound like Dumbledore. Growing serious, Harry knelt by the elf, tennis ball eyes glowing up at him. Dobby sort of sniffled a little. "The Professor is not doing good, Harry Potter. He has got a fever and should not leave bed. But he does not want Dobby's help!" This appeared to distress him very much, his little body wracked with shacking. It made sense to Harry, though. When you take care of yourself you don't want anyone else to do it. Ever.

"He probably just wants to be alone. I'll take care of him, Dobby." Even though he doesn't want to see me either, he finished in his head.

"Oh, Harry Potter is most gracious, sir, most gracious!" Harry had to laugh outright at that.

"Thanks. I'll visit you at Hogwarts, okay?" After the elf had Disapparated he went straight downstairs through every book in the makeshift lab in the basement looking for the recipe for fever-reducer potion. Luckily Snape had copies of all schools texts, and he finally found it in what he recognized as his second-year Potions textbook. It took him almost an hour to brew. When it was done he headed down to the master bedroom. He knocked twice and got no answer. "Professor?"

He opened the door slowly, in case he was asleep, it did not creek. Snape was not asleep, however. He was sitting up in bed with his palm clasped to his forehead. Harry, of all people, knew what that felt like. The door opened wider and he stepped into the room. His presence was acknowledged with a stiff, "What are you doing here?" and he knew better than to retort. Instead he just came forward and handed him the vial, corked and ready, as if it were the end of a potions class.

"Fever-reducer, sir." Snape looked at him skeptically but took it, sniffing it before drinking it. It took a moment to take effect, a long, icy moment in which Snape was critiquing it, Harry knew. And sure enough…

"You did well. The consistency was off, but we can fix that. Everything else was right." Well, well. So miracles can happen. Harry decided then not to beat around the bush.

"It's not fair of him to make you do that." He could feel his pounding heart pump blood throughout his veins, but he did not care. It did not matter. Snape frowned from his upright position on the bed, but it was not like the ones he usually directed at Harry. It was laced with sadness.

"Life is not fair." All this seemed to do was make Harry angry.

"Being forced to kill the only man who ever believed in you? Life is being pretty unfair, Snape." That earned him a death glare.

"I do not need your pity, or anyone else's." But Harry was fired up now, and was not going to let up so easily.

"You must feel so alone." It was direct, it was precise, it was accurate. "Everyone else will think it's in cold blood. You will have no one."

He knew what Snape wanted to say to that: 'I have never needed anyone.' But it was not true, and he could not fool Harry with it anymore. "I must do what he needs me to, Harry." A reminder that this was not the same man he used to know. It was like a stab in the chest, that sense of duty in the face of pure hatred, the middle of war.

"He left all his plans- you- have to finish what he started. Everything. He left it all to you." The words seemed to get constricted with the tightness he felt in his chest, like it was encased in rubber bands, and it made him fumble, made the words stick in his throat.

"It is nothing I can't handle. I must do my job. Now if you are quite done analyzing my every emotion, is there anything else?" But the boy was not listening- his eyes were shut tight like he was struggling not to hit something.

"Why are you hiding? It is a lot of pressure, and it's okay to admit that-"

"Is that what you want to hear?" Harry opened his green eyes to stare into the ebony ones.

"You're going to miss him, too." This was an internal battle.

"Yes." The answer came slow, unsteady, but it was sure. Something inside Harry seemed to release him.

"Are you feeling better, sir?"

"Yes, thank you. Now if you would leave me in peace." Harry understood. He had opened wounds, touched something raw. Snape probably felt exposed, he had always needed privacy. So he nodded and left without saying anything more. He was startled to find the Headmaster in the kitchen where the Weasleys had been; they must have left.

"Harry, I would appreciate it if you would not look at me like that for an entire year." But he was smiling. Badgered, Harry took a seat.

"Sorry, sir, I-"

"I know. It is alright. But if we are intent on keeping the secret, you must wear a bit of a mask." Dumbledore leaned in, his voice very low, and Harry felt like there was something, crawling up his spine. A mask.

"You made him sick, you know. That wasn't right." Oh geez, was he going to be such a pest about every little thing? Now he had bothered them both in one morning.

"I am very grateful to him, my boy. There is no one I trust more to do the job. I have asked much of him, in the confidence that he will carry through. Continue the fight, this war." No silence had ever, ever felt more heavy. He got the feeling that Dumbledore was going to confide in him, tell him something very important. "I have asked him to watch over you, Harry."

"He will." His head was spinning- it was almost making him dizzy.

"It is a long way off, you must know. But when the time comes-"

"I pray I won't be there," he interrupted. Dumbledore smiled at him.

"One never knows these things. I do much prefer it this way. It could be much worse. I have asked him a favor; he is helping me." Helping. Huh.

"You have a strange way of looking at things."

"So some say. But you mustn't be glum. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." He had said so before, but it offered no comfort. "I will not truly be gone. We will see each other again, Harry." The ones who love us never really leave us, Sirius's words echoed in his head. Many things were flashing in his mind.

"I thought you said it was a long way off." The hand was lifeless; and Harry wondered then how Snape was not worse. He could not bear to look at it.

"I hope you will forgive me, Harry." The tears were flowing now, and Harry looked into those blue eyes and said something he knew needed to be said, that Dumbledore needed to hear. Something he should have said a long time ago.

"I do."

"I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry."

And then he was gone.

They were left alone.