Snape was still leaning against the wall in the hallway when Harry emerged from the bathroom, already dressed in the robes he had brought in with him.
"Severus?"
Harry looked worried. And rightly so, Snape thought. "Sweet Merlin, what did you do to your hair?"
It was board straight, and could not have been neater if someone had spent hours painstakingly arranging it.
Harry squirmed. "Well, I cast a tidying charm on it like I do every morning. It usually doesn't have much effect." Snape wasn't sure if he should be worried, or glad that it wasn't just him. He needed more information before he could decide.
"Finite Incantatum." There, that was much better. "Come with me."
When they arrived in the sitting room, Snape instructed, "Summon something, then hit the ground."
Harry looked at him like he had suggested that Dumbledore actually had quite refined fashion sense, but he complied. "Accio throw pillow," he said, and dutifully dropped to the floor. It was a good thing too, because even if it was just a pillow, Snape thought it probably would have knocked him silly. The seam busted when it hit the wall.
"I…that was…that was a bit excessive," Harry needlessly pointed out.
"Indeed. One more trial—cast Lumos."
Harry complied, and Snape immediately regretted choosing that spell. It seemed that Harry agreed—at once, he shouted, "Nox!"
"You didn't have to conjure the sun, or whatever that was," Snape snapped.
"I didn't mean to, it just happened!" Harry explained, starting to panic.
"I know, I know. It's just…this is all highly irregular." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed it was a good thing that their magical power seemed to have increased ten-fold overnight, but he would have liked an explanation, or at least some warning.
"This has something to do with last night, doesn't it?" Harry asked. "Something about that glittery light. I could feel the magic tingling, but I thought you were doing it. This is my fault—I asked you to."
"Harry, this is no one's fault, and no amount of unforeseen events will make me regret what we did. In fact, from what I have witnessed thus far, it may very well be a blessing. We seem to have become two of the most powerful wizards in the world," Snape said, trailing off, talking to himself.
He had an idea. "Harry, try to perform a spell whose incantation you do not know. Just think about making something happen."
"Er, okay." Harry closed his eyes.
Snape felt something nudging his back, like someone had placed a hand there and was pushing him forward. The invisible force pushed him toward Harry until they were standing about a foot apart.
It was not the Imperius Curse, he knew that much. The Unforgivable produced actions from within—this was simply something guiding his body. The force raised his hand to caress Harry's face.
Harry's eyes flew open at the contact, and Snape's hand fell back to his side. "Wow. How did I…? I wasn't even that specific!"
This was very disconcerting. Snape had always been an exceptionally powerful wizard, but he had never put a hole in a wall with a simple summoning charm. And now Harry was performing magic intuitively, at the age of sixteen!
Snape looked up at the fake sun shining through the enchanted window, which seemed to be mocking him with its display of such a fair day. A thunderstorm would be more fitting.
Before he knew it, an ominous cloud drifted over and blocked the sun's light and there was a flash of lightning.
"This is getting out of hand," Snape said. "We need to figure out what has happened to us. Start searching the shelves for anything you think might be useful."
So they spent most of the day thumbing through the myriad books, hoping against hope to find some obscure paragraph that started, 'Oh, by the way, sometimes your magic will suddenly increase beyond reason—nothing to worry about.' They were not in luck.
"It would seem there is nothing for it," Snape finally conceded. "We shall simply have to learn to exercise control over our newfound power. Come, it is time we ate. Oh, and do try and refrain from using magic for the remainder of the day. I have no wish to be caught up in any more catastrophes."
It took a week of practice before they were able to comfortably cast spells without worrying that they would destroy the safe house and end up trapped in the rubble underground, and they were quite relieved. Harry was so happy that he tried for a repeat performance of his birthday night, but Snape advised that they should not engage in that particular activity until they could be fully aware of the consequences. Harry pouted, but Snape suggested a few activities he felt it was safe for them to participate in and he soon recovered.
The next day, they took a well-deserved break. Well, it was more of a treat for Snape than for Harry, as they spent the afternoon making potions.
Normally, Snape would never work with a conjured cauldron—there were simply too many things that could go wrong. But he only had the one, and the extra that he conjured was identical to it in every way. He kept the new one for himself and gave Harry his, just in case something happened.
"You should make another batch of Dreamless Sleep—I am surprised you have not already run out."
Harry smiled. "I don't need it when I sleep with you. But it is getting a little low, so another few vials couldn't hurt. Maybe I'll even get it right this time."
"Doubtful," Snape said, his tone playful, and started setting out ingredients. There was not anything he needed personally, so he intended to brew several medical potions to give to Poppy when he returned.
"So," Harry said, "do you want to go first?"
"You go ahead," Snape replied, and began chopping some shriveled fig.
"Okay. How old were you when you brewed your first potion?"
"Six. It was a Deflating Draught. I accidentally spilled it on my shoes and had to go round barefoot for a week until I brewed a Swelling Solution to counteract the effect." It was comical in hindsight, Snape thought, but at the time he had been too frightened his father would find out he ruined his shoes to see the humor. He increased the flame under his cauldron. "Who was the first snake you ever talked to?"
"I don't know his name. My aunt and uncle took me with them for Dudley's birthday trip to the zoo, and there was this huge python. My cousin was mad that it wasn't moving and started banging on the glass. Somehow, I made the glass disappear long enough for Dudley to fall in, and the snake to get out, and then it reappeared." Harry chuckled. "Yeah, that was fun. Definitely worth missing dinner for a week. Do you have any family now? Aunts, cousins, grandparents?"
"I do not know anything of my muggle family—my father was not on speaking terms with any of his relatives. My mother was an only child, and her parents died before I was born."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
Snape gave a noncommittal shrug and decanted his completed fever-reducing potion into six vials. "No matter. Are you feeling more confident about your ability to defeat the Dark Lord, now that you could set the entire Forbidden Forest aflame on a whim?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah, I am. But it's more knowing that I won't be facing him alone, if you know what I mean."
Snape turned toward Harry and was startled at the depth of trust and affection he saw in those eyes. That uncomfortable tightness that refused to explain its presence was back in his chest.
"I believe I do."
