29
From the window of the room he shared with Ginny, Harry could see the first glimmers of a cold, golden dawn arcing into the sky beyond the rooftops of Godric's Hollow. Frost sparkled on every tile and brick, sharpening every edge and shadow. Across the square, white ribbons and balloons fluttered and bobbed around the church, while florettes of icy white flowers and warm golden candles lit the path leading up to the door. It should have felt like a glorious, wonderful morning, but Harry felt as brittle as the frost, and he shivered.
There were two inns in Godric's Hollow, both located in the square across from the church: the Golden Lion and the shabby and decidedly Muggle Hollow Inn. The wedding guests were staying at the former, so, naturally, Harry, Ginny, and Snape had taken rooms in the latter. They might have even been able to pass for Muggles, if Snape hadn't refused to keep Fiend out of sight. (Evidently, Snape hadn't realized Muggle inns didn't allow pets.) In Harry's opinion, Snape was being far more irrational about his Kneazle kitten than Hermione had ever been about Crookshanks. They'd already had to Confund the innkeeper twice.
Their days had not been spent at the inn, however. They'd been Apparating around the countryside, searching for any sign of Hermione. Harry couldn't remember every place he, Ron, and Hermione had camped last year, but he could remember more than he had expected to, and they had searched each spot thoroughly, using magic-detecting spells Snape taught them while Fiend sniffed around, mewing in disappointment with each new failure.
Every night, they had returned to the inn, tired and discouraged, where they had spent the last of the day's energy discussing the wedding.
Sometimes, in the moonlight, Harry thought he had glimpsed figures moving in the shadows at the edge of the square. He would have liked to go investigate, but Snape had set strict rules about when they were and were not allowed to wander around, and for the most part they were not allowed - certainly not without his company. Harry might have protested, but he remembered all too well how things had gone the last time he'd been in Godric's Hollow, and he couldn't escape the roiling dread that something terrible was going to happen again.
They had, of course, investigated the church. Layers of wards surrounded it, cast by numerous wands - mostly Moody's, although Dumbledore had cast a charm to prevent house-elf Apparation (Snape thought Hermione had been the inspiration for that). And the night after their arrival a new set of wards had been erected: anti-Animagus spells.
"They know about Pettigrew," Snape had said.
Harry thought he was probably right; moreover, he was certain they had the information from Hermione. Which meant she was in contact with the Order, although, as Snape pointed out, it was possible she had submitted another anonymous tip.
"Do you think she'll be here?" Harry had asked. "At the wedding?"
He could see Snape wanted to believe she would be, but he had only said, "We shall see."
And now, finally, the day was here. The golden dawn and the white frost reminded Harry of his mother's wedding dress, but he couldn't feel excited. What if something went wrong? What if something happened?
"Harry," Ginny said from the bed (it was partly to escape her tantalizing scent that he had gone to the cold window in the first place). "It'll be fine. We have a dozen backup plans."
It was true. If Harry was worried about the wedding, Snape was positively paranoid. He had made them memorize every street in Godric's Hollow, and then he had mapped out escape routes, booby traps, and contingency plans. They had stowed Portkeys and healing potions, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products and even spare wands in various strategic locations around the square and its surrounding streets. Snape had gone so far as to identify a nearby Wizarding house with poor warding that they could break into if they needed to Floo out in an emergency. It was obvious the man was preparing for battle.
Harry could practically hear Ron saying, "He's gone off his rocker," but Ron wasn't there, and for once Harry was glad Snape was there instead.
Perhaps he had gone a bit off his rocker, too.
Ginny was still in the shower when Harry went down to breakfast. Snape was sitting alone at one of the tables, the remains of a breakfast and a half-empty cup of tea in front of him, along with a discarded Prophet. Harry could see the faces of three vaguely familiar Death Eaters glaring at him from the front page. Automatically, he glanced around to make sure there were no Muggles to see the moving pictures, but of course there weren't: Harry, Ginny, and Snape were the only guests.
"Miss Granger seems to have turned in a few more Death Eaters," Snape said, with a glance at the Prophet. Harry saw the phrase "anonymous tip" and smiled.
"Still no sign of Bellatrix?"
"None." Snape's scowl was tenser than usual, and Harry knew they were thinking the same thing: if the Death Eaters attacked the church today, she would probably be there.
Harry helped himself to toast and sausage, eating quickly and without much appreciation. He felt jittery to the point of nausea, but he knew Snape would say something if he didn't eat. The man was almost as bad as Mrs. Weasley.
He smirked at the thought. Snape, who had apparently been watching him, asked, "Something amusing, Mr… Peverell?"
Harry rolled his eyes, taking a giant bite of sausage so he didn't have to answer. Snape was still peering at him when he had finished chewing, though, so he said, "It's just odd."
"What is?" Snape said, with a trace of exasperation.
"Having an adult around," Harry said. "It used to just be… us. We were kids, you know."
"I do know."
"And now you're here. Looking out for us."
"I was always looking out for you, Potter."
Harry shrugged. "It didn't feel like it."
Snape didn't seem offended. If anything, he looked curious. "And now it does?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said, slightly embarrassed. "I mean, you're the one in charge."
He had half-expected Snape to look smug at that, but the man's expression didn't change. Harry was just about to go back to his breakfast when Snape suddenly asked, "Have you always been in charge, Potter?"
Harry snorted. "I thought you knew that. 'Strutting around with my friends and admirers,' didn't you say something like that? Mind you, Hermione was always the bossy one."
"I meant before," Snape said.
"Before what?"
"Before Hogwarts."
Harry was beginning to wish he had given his breakfast more attention. "Was I in charge before Hogwarts?"
"Did anyone look out for you?" Snape clarified.
Harry flushed. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having. Where was Ginny? She usually didn't take so long…
"I will take that as a 'no,'" Snape said.
Harry shrugged. "It was the same for you, wasn't it?"
He thought that might get Snape to drop the subject, but he was wrong. Snape's voice turned cold and flat, and his eyes glinted. "I sincerely hope it was not as bad for you as it was for me, Potter, and if it was then the first thing I'll do when we return to our own world is hunt your wretched aunt down and drop her into a sewer."
The threat might have been frightening, if the last image hadn't wrenched a laugh out of Harry.
"Can I watch?" he asked grinning.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Am I to understand that you believe our childhoods were comparable?"
"I dunno," Harry said, sobering slightly, but still savoring the idea of Aunt Petunia in a sewer. "They kept me in a cupboard. What about you?"
Snape opened his mouth, shut it, then forced out, "What do you mean, they kept you in a cupboard?"
"It's where I slept," Harry said. "Out of the way, you know, where they could pretend I didn't exist."
Snape stared at him, and for a few seconds Harry thought the man didn't believe him. Then he asked, "How big was the cupboard?"
Harry considered. "I don't think I could fit in it now."
"How long did they keep you there?"
"Until my Hogwarts letter came. It was addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs,' and that worried them a bit, so they gave me Dudley's second bedroom."
"They gave you - what?"
"Dudley, he's my cousin. They gave me his second room."
"His second room?"
"Where he kept all his broken toys and stuff," Harry explained.
Snape stared at him, and he stared back, silently daring Snape to Legilimize him. Snape, however, leaned back, lacing his fingers and pressing them to his chin. "What else?"
"It's your turn," Harry said.
Snape hesitated, then said, in the same half-nonchalant, half-defiant tone Harry himself had used, "My father snapped my mother's wand and burned every spellbook of hers he could find."
Harry felt a stab of anger, and pity, then anger again. "She saved the potions book, though."
"No, I did. My mother rarely defended herself against him."
His words suggested all kinds of things that sounded far worse to Harry than being locked in a cupboard. He tried to imagine what it would be like to watch your dad hurt your mum, then stopped, because it was too awful.
"Your turn, Mr. Potter."
Harry took a moment to gather himself. "Uncle Vernon didn't destroy my magical stuff," he said, "but he locked it up, and put bars on my window so I couldn't send Hedwig for help. He tried to stop me from going to Hogwarts for the first couple of years. They never told me about magic because they wanted to 'stamp it out of me.'"
"They didn't tell you about magic?" Snape said, startled.
Harry shook his head. "I didn't know until Hagrid showed up."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "And how did your aunt and uncle respond to that?"
Harry grinned. "Uncle Vernon pointed a rifle at him."
"And?"
"Hagrid bent the barrel into a knot."
Snape grinned, a sudden, sharp, predatory grin that Harry had never seen before. It occurred to him that Snape might have been serious about dumping Petunia in a sewer.
"But there must have been incidents," Snape said, his grin abruptly vanishing. "You must have used accidental magic."
"I set a boa constrictor on Dudley once."
"I daresay you were punished."
Harry nodded. "You?"
"Always."
They sat for a few moments in silence. Then Harry said, "You hated Muggles after that."
Snape arched a brow. "You didn't?"
"No. They're not all like that."
"How did you know?" Snape asked. "At that age."
Harry shrugged. "Mostly because I could tell other Muggles didn't like the Dursleys either. The neighbors, the teachers… Nobody could stand them, except Marge."
"The aunt with the dog?"
"Yeah."
"She's the one you blew up, I believe."
"She deserved it."
"Because of the dog?"
"No. She was saying things about my parents."
"I seem to recall saying numerous things about your father, and you never blew me up."
Harry considered that. "She was a lot rounder than you are."
Snape snorted. Harry thought it was safe to go back to his breakfast, and actually managed a few bites before Snape said, "I assumed they spoiled you."
Harry swallowed. "I gathered that, yeah."
"It was… an unfair assumption."
Harry hesitated, then shrugged. "I assumed you were evil. That was a bit unfair."
"A bit?"
"Morning!" Ginny said, striding in. "Have you left any for me?"
Harry, who had begun to suspect she had left them alone that long on purpose, had to reevaluate as soon as he saw her. She was wearing the golden dress robes she'd worn to Fleur's wedding, and had done something very complicated and pretty with her hair. He felt a thrill go through him from the top of his head all the way down to his feet.
"You look amazing," he said honestly.
Snape made a nauseated sound in the back of his throat. Ginny glared at him. "This was your idea. Did you expect me to sneak in wearing Quidditch robes?"
"No. That doesn't mean I want to watch Potter drool over you."
"Peverell," she corrected. "And he's supposed to drool, he's my boyfriend."
"Husband," Snape shot back. "I believe drooling is supposed to cease upon marriage."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him, Harry. You can drool as much as you want."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," he said. "You packed dress robes?"
Ginny shrugged. "They can be useful."
Harry wondered exactly what kind of use she had expected to get out of these. He, for one, found them very distracting.
"If only your spouse had the same foresight," Snape said, surveying Harry's jeans and Weasley jumper. "We'll need to do something about your wardrobe, Peverell. You can't attend your parents' wedding wearing that."
It was appallingly easy to sneak into the wedding. Though Lily and James were obviously exercising caution, they hadn't gone to nearly the extremes that Bill and Fleur had, and, once Ginny had gotten a good look at one of the other guests' invitations and altered the obnoxious rainbow lettering on their own to match it, they simply walked up to the front of the church, handed over their invitation, and walked in.
Snape had agreed that they should be inside, while he monitored the church from the square. They had made a new trio of fake Galleons, and once Harry and Ginny had settled into a pew, Harry sent Snape the quick assurance we're in.
Then he looked around the church, trying to remind himself to be alert for any signs of danger, but really looking eagerly for any sign of the wedding party.
There were plenty of familiar faces, young and shocking in the sea of strangers. Professor McGonagall sat in the pew across from them, looking somehow less severe with twenty years shaved off her age. Frank Longbottom sat beside her, looking healthier than Harry had ever seen him, though grave despite his youth. Then there was Moody, missing a leg but not yet an eye, hovering in a shadowy corner and glaring at everybody. And there, in the doorway -
Harry felt his stomach leap. Dumbledore.
He had known, of course, that Dumbledore would be here. He had tried not to think about it, because even now his feelings for the old wizard were a confused mess, but now, seeing him, he remembered vividly the last two times they had been together - first when Dumbledore had died, then when Harry had.
He felt tears burn his eyes, and had to look away. Ginny gripped his hand and kissed his temple, and he tried to let some of the tension ease out of him, though he couldn't stop a few tears from escaping.
He had missed Dumbledore. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, not when there was the thrill and awe of seeing his parents to consider, but he knew now that he had missed Dumbledore perhaps as much as he had ever missed them. Dumbledore had used and manipulated him, and dangled him like a puppet from so many strings, but he had also saved them all. What chance would Harry have stood against Voldemort, without Dumbledore? How could they have ever won the war?
He felt hurt and angry, but grateful, and more than anything, happy - happy that this Dumbledore was alive, happy that he would never suffer the fate Harry's Dumbledore had suffered. Happy that they all had another chance.
Harry didn't dare look at Dumbledore again, at least not until Dumbledore had settled into one of the front pews, his canary yellow robes reminding Harry wonderfully of Luna. There was such a mingling of hope and dread in his chest that he could hardly sit still, and Ginny had to squeeze his hand again in warning.
Trying to pull himself together, Harry looked around again. It was hard to tell who was suspicious and who wasn't, and difficult to trust his own judgment on the subject, when apparently not even Moody had realized that Harry and Ginny didn't belong. Then again, Snape had decided Harry could keep his hair black today; his resemblance to James might, for once, work in his favor. He didn't doubt people would assume he was a cousin.
And there were other Potters there. Harry could see flashes of half-remembered faces from the Mirror of Erised, wizards and witches who must be his family, but who could not have survived beyond his parents' death.
Lily's mother wasn't there; Harry guessed she was with Lily. There was a man on the bride's side of the church who might be her husband, Harry's grandfather, but from this distance it was impossible to tell. And what about Petunia? Had she come? Or was she already so bitter she was willing to miss her own sister's wedding?
"Harry!" Ginny whispered suddenly. "Harry - it's her!"
Harry, still thinking about Petunia, looked around wildly. Then Ginny waved, and he saw, in a flash of sudden happiness, the person she was waving to.
Hermione.
Hermione and Severus had debated long and hard about whether or not to actually enter the church. Severus, in an uncharacteristic display of indecision, had changed his mind half a dozen times before finally, reluctantly, agreeing that the closer they were to Lily, the greater chance they would have of protecting her.
Then, of course, they had needed to find Severus dress robes. Hermione already had a set (the black robes she had purchased for all the funerals after the war), which Severus had been fairly appalled to learn she carried around in her bag.
"But why?" he had asked, evidently astonished she would do anything so impractical.
She had shrugged. "They can be useful."
Severus had been more than a little reluctant to show his face in Diagon Alley, but Hermione had cast a few mild Glamours and they had made it through without anyone recognizing them, even after Severus had returned to his customary clean-cut, heavily buttoned black. Severus had wanted to go to the wedding with Glamour Charms as well, but Hermione thought Moody (who was no doubt in charge of security) would be far more likely to admit them if he knew who they were.
"Anyway," she had assured him, "we'll sit in the back, near the door. No one will ever have to know we were there." Unless something happens, she had added silently, and she knew he was thinking that, too.
Their invitation was accepted without question, and Moody nodded to them from a dark corner when they stepped through the door. The church was almost full; Lily and James were obviously as popular as everyone had always said. Hermione was just looking for a place to sit when a waving hand caught her eye.
Then she saw the faces beneath it, and her mouth fell open in shock.
She blinked. Surely she was mistaken. They couldn't be - not here -
Harry waved, grinning, and Hermione felt Severus's hand press against her back.
"He's making a scene," he hissed.
"But how…?"
"Let's find out."
They slid into the pew where Harry and Ginny were sitting. Harry and Ginny both stood up and hugged her, and Hermione was too dazed to tell them to sit down.
Severus, however, had no trouble hissing at them. As they all sank down, Ginny whispered, "He really is Snape!"
Severus glared at her. "And who are you?"
"Ginny," Hermione whispered. "Remember, I told you -"
"The one who was possessed."
Ginny flinched. The diary was one of the only things that could make her flinch, these days.
"How did you get here?" Hermione asked, still feeling as though the floor had dropped out from under her. "The Dementors -"
"It was Snape," Harry whispered. "Our Snape, I mean."
"He's here?"
"Outside, keeping watch," Harry said. "We thought the Death Eaters might -"
"We thought the same," Severus said.
Harry looked grim.
"But how -" Hermione persisted.
"He Transfigured us into bats," Harry said. "Then he just Occluded, I guess, and walked straight through Azkaban, no problem. It was brilliant."
Hermione could see from the astonished look on Severus's face that he was not yet so accomplished at Occlumency. Yet that was not what astonished her.
"He brought you with him?"
Harry shrugged. "We ran into each other on our way to the gate. I think he figured I'd just come back on my own if he didn't let me come with him, so it was better to keep an eye on me."
"You don't say," Hermione said, completely thrown.
"We've been looking for you everywhere," Harry added. "We've been here for days."
"We've been keeping track of your progress," Ginny added. At their blank looks, she explained, "You've been all over the Prophet. Death Eaters captured, anonymous tips…"
"Oh, that," Hermione said dismissively. "That was just a side project, we've mostly been focusing on -"
"Shh!" Severus's gaze was on the front of the church, where James had appeared in golden robes, Sirius and Remus standing beside him in gold and scarlet. In the front pew, Mrs. Evans took her seat.
Someone began playing the organ.
"This is so weird," Harry whispered.
Hermione squeezed his hand, saw Ginny holding his other, and let go. Beside her, Severus was sitting rigidly, his gaze relaxed into an unconvincing blankness as he stared at the Marauders.
Hermione squeezed his hand instead.
A hush fell over the crowd, and they turned to see a line of bridesmaids all in scarlet and gold slowly proceeding up the aisle. Hermione saw Alice wink at Frank, who smiled at her as she drifted by.
Then the music changed, and Lily appeared.
The first time Hermione had seen her, she had thought Lily looked very normal. Now, watching the gauzy white dress pouring into the air around her, seeing the tiny lilies planted in her hair, seeing the hint of gold at her throat and ears, Hermione couldn't understand how she had ever thought Lily looked normal. Lily was beautiful.
She felt Severus's hand tremble beneath hers. When she looked at him, he was not looking at Lily, but down at their hands, his shoulders rising and falling more rapidly than normal. No matter how angry he had been at Lily, she knew full well that he hadn't suddenly fallen out of love with her.
She wondered if that was why Snape had decided to wait outside.
She felt sad suddenly, sad for both of them, and in some strange unexpected way sad for herself. She had never felt about anyone the way Severus Snape (either one) felt about Lily, or the way Harry and Ginny felt about each other. No one had ever felt that way about her, either, no matter what Krum might once have said. What she had felt with Ron had been a strong, persistent tension that had broken the moment she had surrendered to it. This was something else, something far away from her, and sitting in the midst of it all she felt very out of place and alone.
Outside, sitting on a frosty bench with a powerful Disillusionment Charm over himself, Severus listened to the distant organ music with a feeling less like loss than like nostalgia. Familiar faces - faces he had forgotten, faces that were long dead - had passed one after another into the church like a line of ghosts, while he sat outside watching, the only one of them to survive, the only one to grow old.
But that was only in his world. In this world, they were alive, warm and breathing, and he was out here in the cold, invisible, the ghost of a future they would never know. He should have felt lonely, or maudlin, but instead he felt only a sense of rightness, bordering on happiness, because this was how the world should be.
Or, at least, it would be, once Voldemort was destroyed and that hideous law abolished. Considering the progress Miss Granger had already made, Severus didn't doubt it was possible.
For a moment, thinking of her, he thought he saw her. Then, as he caught sight of the dark, less-greasy-than-usual head at her side, he knew he was seeing her, and almost called out. But she was handing over an invitation and slipping into the church, his younger self close by her side, closer than Severus could ever remember standing to anyone with any degree of comfort.
Then the loneliness did hit him, but it was strange and wonderful, too. This was him, as he should have been; as he would have been, if he had only had someone kind and brave and loyal on his side. This version of himself had made the right choice, and it was right for him to have this happiness.
He could have almost laughed at himself, then. Who would have expected that at Lily's wedding, it was himself he would be jealous of?
He was still smiling when the roof of the Golden Lion exploded in a shower of tile and stone across the square, cracking and smashing onto the cobblestones with such force the ice in the frozen fountain shattered. By the time Severus had sprung to his feet and drawn his wand - a mere second, at most - the front wall of the inn had begun to collapse, and he heard the scream of the innkeeper cut short.
In the ruin stood a giant. Around him, appearing one after another out of thin air, Severus saw the silhouettes of four others block out the pale blue sky.
