Chapter 38: Conversations: Past and Future

Author's note: Thank you too all the people who've left lovely reviews on my last few chapters. I love hearing back from you- either to say that you enjoy reading it or with suggestions and corrections! Unfortunately I've also had some downright offensive reviews lately that I've had to delete, but getting a nice one from one of you lovely readers makes it all better. (yes, gr8rockstar, you made me smile again!)

Here's another chapter for you: I hope you enjoy! There's a lot of fluff coming up in the next few chapters, but I plan a biggish major plot development in the next few weeks which I'm quite excited about getting to write.

Harriet was disappointed to wake alone, but it wasn't unexpected. There was no way Robin could have remained in the infirmary with her overnight, even in the side room. She couldn't help a smile, though, knowing that Severus had arranged his visit. Severus still gave off an air of stiff disapproval when she and Robin exchanged any show of affection in his presence, not that it was any deterrent to either teenager. Maybe he was finally warming to the idea of them together.

Madam Pomfrey appeared with a stack of clothes and a breakfast tray perched precariously on top. "Ah, up I see, Harriet," she said. "Good. Now, how about we get you up and washed, and then, if you feel well enough, you have a visitor who'd like to see you whilst you eat your breakfast."

Harriet looked up hopefully. "Is it Robin?"

Poppy laughed. "No, child. It's not. Now, can you stand?"

Disappointed, Harriet pushed herself up in the bed, not feeling so dizzy anymore. Her legs were slightly shaky, but they held. "Right, then," Madam Pomfrey said with a brisk nod. "Here, one of the house elves fetched some clean clothes for you. The bathroom's just over there."

Harriet shuffled through her pile of clothes (jeans, a t-shirt, her pink Weasley jumper) and went off to the bathroom. She really hoped it had been Madam Pomfrey who'd changed her into the nightgown, and not Severus. As he so rightly pointed out, she'd been born as naked as anyone else, but that still didn't mean she wanted her boyfriend's dad undressing her!

She gripped the handles set into the wall of the magical shower tightly, the heat of the water making her feel light headed again. She muttered a drying spell, having rescued her wand from beneath her pillow before coming in, and had to sit down for a moment's rest before dressing. Just how much blood had she lost? she wondered idly.

By the time she let herself out of the infirmary bathroom, Mrs Weasley was sitting by her bed, knitting. She cast the needles and wool to the side, springing up with surprising speed to wrap Harriet in her embrace. "Oh, I was so worried!" she informed Harriet, pressing the girl firmly to her breast. "Your hand on the clock went to 'Mortal Peril'!"

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harriet managed.

Mrs. Weasley left a resounding kiss on the top of her head. "Now, then, sit down and eat your breakfast," the motherly woman insisted. "You're always just that bit too thin, dear, you could really do with a bit more by way of nutrition."

Madam Pomfrey had left Harriet's potions on the tray and she drank them as quickly as she could, hoping to get out of the hospital wing as soon as as she could. Potions out of the way, she turned her attention to the big bowl of porridge, topped with lots of brown sugar and cream, just the way she liked it. The house elves knew their charges, even if there were hundreds of people to look after. She smiled and dug her spoon in. She hadn't noticed how hungry she was until she saw the steaming breakfast. She had missed dinner the night before, after all.

Mrs Weasley had picked up her knitting again. "Honestly, I was that worried," she confided. "I couldn't get through to the school for the longest time! If it wasn't for Ron and Ginny still pointing at 'school', I' have been sure it was You-Know-Who! I can't think what Remus was doing, letting spells like that be used in his lessons. I shall be having words with him, you can be sure."

"It wasn't his fault, Mrs Weasley," Harriet said tiredly. "He did say that he didn't want to see any blood. It's not his fault that Zabini disobeyed him."

Mrs Weasley sniffed disdainfully. "His mother always thought she was above the rules too," she supplied. "How she hasn't been hauled in for questioning by magical law enforcement, I'll never know. Seven husbands! Seven, I tell you. Well, I have seven children, but one husband's all I need."

Harriet scraped up the last mouthful of porridge. "Mrs Weasley…" she began hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to ask this question.

"Yes?" Mrs Weasley prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you think makes a happy marriage?" Harriet asked, her words tumbling out atop each other. It wasn't quite the question she wanted to ask- okay, it wasn't even close. But then, she couldn't exactly blurt out 'do you think spanking is a good thing in a relationship?' to Mrs. Weasley.

Molly looked startled. "Well," she began, floundering a little, "You've got to like each other, obviously. And you have to have a similar plan for life, similar goals."

"What do you mean?" Harriet asked, toying with her spoon, rubbing it on the edge of the bowl. "Similar goals? what kind of goals?"

"Like… like how many children you want. Arthur and I both knew all our lives that we wanted lots of children."

"Oh," Harriet said. It wasn't really the answer she'd been hoping for . It certainly didn't shed any light on her current issues, and she'd never even really thought about children anyway. Did she want them? She supposed so, because otherwise there would be no one to carry on the Potter line, but it wasn't an issue to which she'd dedicated any particular thought.

"Now then," Mrs Weasley said, patting Harriet's hand gently. "What's brought all this on? I'd have thought you'd be wanting to play about a bit before thinking of marriage. After all, you've had a bit of a late start, as a girl anyway. Is there a special someone about?"

Harriet pleated the starchy bedclothes nervously between her fingers. "Kind of," she admitted quietly. "He… well, I know he wants to get married and settle down, someday. And… I was just wondering what you thought. Because, erm, because I don't really know many married people."

Mrs Weasley began to pack away her knitting. "You've plenty of time to think about all that," she assured Harriet. "I married young, and lots of your classmates will get engaged almost as soon as they're off the train in the summer, but that doesn't mean you have to. There's no call to follow convention just because everyone else does. You're not everyone, Harriet, and don't let this boy of yours try to convince you otherwise."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harriet said with a half grin.

Molly stood and patted her gently on the cheek. "Now, you you look after yourself," she said sternly. "Do as Madam Pomfrey tells you, and don't over-exert yourself. You know where I am too: I'm sure Remus will let you use his floo if you want to talk." She smiled and took her leave, Madam Pomfrey passing her in the doorway.

"You're quite the popular one," Madam Pomfrey commented dryly after seeing Mrs. Weasley off. "She was quite determined to come and check in on you last night, you know. Professor McGonagall had quite the time talking her out of it. I think you had quite enough visitors last night anyway."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harriet said distractedly. "Madam Pomfrey, what do you think makes a good marriage?"

Madam Pomfrey laughed. "I wouldn't know, child. I never wanted to marry. No, not me! I'll not have a husband dictating what I can do to me, no thank you! And losing so much time to childbed? No, I'm quite happy here, mopping up all the accidents you students get into."

"But what do you think would make a good one?" Harriet pressed.

"House elves, most likely," Madam Pomfrey informed her. "They make life much easier- you'll never find a woman with a gaggle of house elves looking stressed about the cooking or cleaning. And a husband with a lot of his own business to keep him out of the house. And good sex."

Harriet went pink, and Madam Pomfrey just smirked. "Now then," she said. "Blood replenishing potions for the next week- one after breakfast, one after dinner." She set a gently clinking box on the bed next to Harriet. "There are three reasonably strong painkilling potions in there too- they're the blue ones, the blood replenishers are red. Don't take them unless you need them, and come back to me if you think you need more. Rest as much as you can. Tell Robin from me that he's to be very gentle with you in bed- no gymnastics." Harriet went even more pink. She was convinced that even her ears were pink, just like Ron's always went when he was embarrassed.

"Okay," she agreed meekly.

"And that means no quidditch for at least a week, young lady."

Harriet gaped. "No!" she said. "No, I can't not play quidditch! I've got a match next Sunday!"

Poppy narrowed her eyes. "You come and see me on Saturday," she bargained. "If you're well enough, you may play on Sunday. Not a moment before, mind. If I so much as see you on that pitch, I shall have you carted straight back here. I'm not having you fall off a broomstick."

"But I have to coach my team!"

"Find someone else. You're not to be within a hundred feet of that pitch. And no more duelling until I say otherwise either. Sleep, eat plenty, and don't work over hard, and you'll get better faster, and back on that infernal broom. And stay away from anyone else who wants to break your nose or curse you. Any more questions?"

"No," Harriet said dejectedly. Madam Pomfrey shrank the box down with a tap of her wand and placed it on top of Harriet's schoolbag.

"I shall see you a week today, then," she informed her patient. "Unless you feel ill, or antagonise any other students. Off you go, now."

Harriet huffed and left before Madam Pomfrey could think of anything else to ban her from. Unfortunately, she could understand the matron's instructions: she had to stop and rest against the wall three times on her way down to her rooms to assuage light-headedness. A couple of students looked at her in puzzlement as she leaned next to a suit of armour, but the corridors were mercifully quiet, and she reached her rooms without anyone attempting to hex her or help her.

She sank down gratefully into her chair, and leaned her head against the high back. She barely even jumped at the crack of elf-apparition, but she sat up straight when she realised it wasn't Dobby.

As far as she knew, Dobby was the only elf who'd ever come into her room. He was certainly the only elf she'd seen here… until now. "Master Robin wanted Maltie to visit Mistress Harriet when she returned," the elf said proudly. "He wanted Mistress Harriet to know that he is here, if she would like to see him."

"But… I thought the house elves didn't know Robin?" Harriet asked, her brain not quite functioning as she expected.

Maltie looked affronted. "Maltie is the personal elf of Master Severus," he explained primly. "Maltie knows things that other elves do not."

"Oh," Harriet said, deciding that agreeing with the elf was probably the best plan. "I see. Thank you, Maltie. I'll visit Robin in a minute."

Maltie nodded, bowed, and was gone. Harriet levered herself out of her chair and reached for her pot of floo powder. She looked down in confusion: she'd been sure that it was nearly empty- she kept meaning to ask Severus for more, but now it was full of soft emerald powder. Either Maltie the house elf was now competing with Dobby for the care of her rooms, or it had been refilled by either Robin or Severus. Shaking her head- everyone seemed determined to look after her at the moment- she cast a pinch into the flames and swirled through.

There was no-one in Severus' living room. She ambled down the hall to Robin's room. "Hey," she said, leaning in the doorway. Robin looked up from his sprawl on his cushions, a wide smile on his face.

"Hey," he replied, springing up and coming over to her. With one arm gently around her shoulders, he towed her to the bed, perching on the side with her. "How'd you feel, kitten?"

"Fine," she said sulkily. "I'm fine. Just everyone keeps fussing, and I can't fly for a week, and…" she realised her voice had risen into a whine, and there was a tear threatening to escape from the corner of her eye.

Robin slipped to the ground, kneeling in front of her so he could peer up into her downturned face. "We're just worried, Harriet," he said softly. "If dad was that worried about you, I know it's bad, okay?"

"Stuff happens. I lost all the bones in my arm in second year. I just basically got cut, okay?" she snapped.

"Do you know what that spell does, Harriet?" Severus asked darkly from the doorway. Both teenagers jumped a bit, having not realised he was there. He crossed to the bed in two long strides. "It is the most dangerous cutting spell of which I am aware," he informed her. "Most cutting spells go only as deep as the flesh, but sectumsempra is designed to go much further. It can be used to amputate whole limbs with almost no effort: it is frighteningly easy to cast. It is fatal within a few minutes even if no major organs are affected, simply though blood loss."

"Well you seem to know quite a lot about it," she snapped.

Severus inclined his head. "I invented it," he said quietly. "At first, I was looking for an amputation spell- removing limbs is rarely necessary in the magical world, but when it is, it's a messy, drawn out process. In my foolishness, I spread it amongst the Death Eaters, hoping to gain favour. I despise that spell." He reached out a tentative hand to stroke her hair. "I can't lose you, Harriet. Not after so many years of waiting."

The traitorous tear left Harriet's eye, and another. She choked out a sob. Very carefully, Severus gathered her up in his arms, pulling her onto his lap. "Cry if you need to," he said gruffly, holding her close.

"It's just," she said, feeling slightly silly, "that I can't play quidditch, and everyone keeps telling me what I can and can't do, and I'm cold, and dizzy and sleepy, and I hate it!"

"You're cold and dizzy on account of the blood loss," Severus pointed out gently. "I'm delighted that you've been told not to play quidditch. If you are dizzy, you are in no fit state to be on a broom."

"But it's the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match next Sunday," Harriet sniffled. "The team's going to hate me if I can't play. They'll hate me anyway because I can't coach. Most of them do what I say, but they don't like me, since I'm a girl now. They only listen to me because I'm good at quidditch."

Severus firmly moved her further away on his lap so he could look down at her. "Your prowess on a broomstick is the only reason your team should respect you. One does not keep control of such a group by being 'liked'" He said the last word with such sarcastic venom that even Robin lifted an eyebrow.

"Don't you want friends?" she asked, curious. She also shivered. "You're not as mean as you pretend. You like Madam Pomfrey, and you care about Robin."

Severus gave a long suffering sigh. "Robin, that blanket, if you would be so kind?" he asked, holding out his hand to receive the aforementioned item. He tucked it firmly around her, holding her close again. Harriet leaned into him, amazed at how comfortable she was being held by him now. It felt natural, paternal, even. "I inhabit a very precarious situation," Severus explained tersely. "I do not have the luxury of being able to trust anyone enough to term them a 'friend'. I have good working relationships with some of my colleagues, like Poppy and Filius, but they are not friends. I see Albus as something of a mentor, perhaps, but also my employer. Robin is my child, you are my godchild- family is quite different to friendship."

"I think you're wrong," she said with a yawn. "I think family can be friends."

Severus gave a noncommittal grunt. "How is your back?" he asked.

"A bit stiff," she admitted. She hadn't been able to reach behind her and fasten her bra when she'd dressed.

"May I see?" Severus asked solicitously. "Not that I doubt the abilities of our esteemed Matron of course."

Harriet bit her lip. "I… I suppose so," she agreed, knowing from his tone that it was not so much a request as an assumption that she would allow him to. She supposed he'd already seen everything when he'd healed her. She tugged her jumper up, Severus' hands gathering the pink wool at her neck, revealing her back and most of her stomach. He bent her forwards at the wait, and his long fingers skittered over the scar- she hadn't realised how big it was, slashing diagonally the full length of her back. She heard Robin's sharp intake of breath, and tried to crane her neck to see her back.

"Here," Severus said gently, conjuring a mirror behind her and another for her to look into. The curse-scar was vivid pink and puckered "The scar should fade away over the next few weeks- we applied dittany quite quickly. I would advise another application, however- would you prefer me to do so, or Robin?"

"Robin, please," Harriet requested quietly. She'd rather not get dittany all over her jumper, so she knew she'd have to take it off. If it had been a year ago, the very idea of having Severus Snape touch her would have made her shudder. She didn't mind now- she knew he was not in the least slimy, but she'd still rather it was Robin touching her, particularly if she had to be half naked.

He let her sit up properly, having had her draped forward across one of his arms, and her jumper fell back to its correct position. "Very well. I shall fetch the salve." She clambered off his lap, taking her blanket with her.

It took only a few moments for Severus to return. "Here," he said, handing the jar over to Robin along with a few soft cottony cloths. "Be generous with it," he advised before taking his leave.

"You don't mind?" Harriet asked, suddenly nervous.

"Not at all," Robin assured her with a shake of his head and a very small, slightly forced smile.

She pulled her jumper over her head. "Where would you like me?"

"Erm, on the bed, I think," he suggested. She stretched out on her tummy. "Tell me if I hurt you," he murmured, and she was strongly reminded of the first time they'd slept together. He soaked the cloth in dittany and began smoothing it over the puckered skin in gentle strokes. It felt good, Harriet decided.

"I can't believe one of your classmates did this," he said softly. "I thought you weren't meant to hurt each other."

Harriet's voice was muffled, her head buried against the pillows. "We're not. But Blaise and I aren't exactly friends."

Robin's hands stilled. "Blaise?" he asked, his voice catching. "Wasn't it Blaise who… groped you?" He'd wanted to say 'tried to rape', but somehow couldn't quite get the words out.

"Yeah," Harriet agreed, arching her back a little to persuade him to continue.

He took the hint, smoothing more salve onto her lithe back. "I'd have thought you'd be one of the popular ones," he mused. "I wouldn't have thought there'd be people wanting to curse you."

Harriet could only snort at the idea of her being popular. She turned her head so she could see him. His face was stormy. "Were you popular at school?"

The laugh escaped him all in one go, more a snort. "Not likely. Long haired kid, gangly and pale and decidedly not sporty. A mother who wasn't trusted to look after kids. A dad who only seemed to show up for parent's evening and birthday parties, and spent the whole time in the corner glowering. And then, after my mum died… well. Someone called social services, because they thought I was living alone. I was here, and I think Dad had to do some playing with minds to get them to go away. I didn't have friends until I started uni, not real ones. I had girls who came back to me because I was… well, good in bed, I suppose. But that just caused jealousy amongst the boys."

"Oh," Harriet said. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" He shrugged. "You had it crappier, I think."

"No one ever called social services on the Dursleys," she said. "I guess… everyone just believed them when they said I was incurably criminal, that I refused the nice things they tried to give me…"

"Oh, kitten," he breathed, his dittany-free hand petting her hair. "At least I always had Dad to sort everything out, even though he wasn't the most affectionate of parents. Although it was a close thing, when no Hogwarts letter came for me." He finished his ministrations and replaced the lid on the pot of dittany, setting it on the bedside table. He stretched out full length beside her, on his side, propped up on one elbow. "I thought he wouldn't love me anymore. I know now that he was expecting it- he knew that if I hadn't manifested, had any accidental magic by the time I was eleven, there was no way I was magical enough to go to magic school."

"Shame I had the magic and you didn't," she said. "You could have gone to Hogwarts, and the Dursleys probably wouldn't have hated me quite so much if I hadn't kept regrowing my hair and landing up on the school roof. I was doing weird stuff for as long as I can remember."

"No, Harriet," he breathed. "I wouldn't change a single thing about you." He bent to kiss her temple, then her cheek. She turned her face further up, and he kissed her nose, then, finally, captured her lips. "If you hadn't had magic, I'd have never met you."