Harry glanced over at Conrad Williamson. He and the long-haired senior Auror were only about halfway through their shift patrolling the streets of London surrounding the hospital; there had been some thinking that the remains of Greyback's pack would try to pay a visit to the ward earlier in the evening but when that hadn't happened by full dark, they'd both settled in for a long night.

"It's slow, isn't it?"

Conrad laughed. "Oh Harry, I woulda killed to get out on the field my first year, boring or no. You kids are getting the fast-track."

He glanced over at the older man. He didn't mind slow so much, though he acknowledged there was a certain level of dread that came with just… waiting for something to happen. And he liked working with Conrad. He reminded him a lot of Bill.

"Are you okay with that?" he asked, a little afraid of the answer. "I know a lot of Aurors aren't, not really."

Conrad sucked his teeth and said, "I don't blame 'em. Surprised anyone said it to your face, though."

"Not to mine," Harry scowled.

"Ah. Suppose they forget you kids talk amongst yourselves. Well, nobody wants the next generation to get breaks they didn't, yeah? And we're partnered up here to watch each other's backs. Based on trust."

"Why do you trust me, then?"

Conrad laughed and clapped Harry on the back. "Who says I trust you? Oh don't look at me like that. I agree with Kingsley and Gawain, any of you kids show your mettle at the Battle of Hogwarts, that's good enough for me."

"And if it isn't ever good enough for them?"

He shrugged.

"We're both relatively young. They'll retire eventually."

Harry finally laughed at that-then stopped and cocked his head to the side. He'd thought he was imagining it, especially since the auror hadn't reacted, but… Was that… was something buzzing? He glanced at Conrad, who was tightening his ponytail, still oblivious.

Were his jeans… vibrating? Oh.

He touched the snake marble, still in his pocket. He wasn't sure how to explain it to Williamson-he felt oddly protective of it, and it wasn't something he'd really told anyone else about. He'd thought of it like a leash at first, but it felt more like a safety net now. Or at least an avenue to annoy the bejesus out of Snape, if it struck him.

But now Snape was the one who had triggered it. They hadn't talked about this. He couldn't imagine Snape had done it by accident-he didn't seem to do much of anything by accident unless something was deeply wrong. But how did the damn thing even work?

They turned down another street. The marble, still in his hand, seemed to buzz more insistently.

"Hey Con?" he ventured. "Do you mind if we… try somewhere else for a bit? I know we have a route and everything but I have a feeling…"

The Auror stopped and frowned at Harry. "A feeling like you need to take a piss, or a feeling ?"

Harry blushed. "A feeling, I guess."

He was ready to come up with some other excuse to sneak off when Conrad surprised him.

"Alright. Which direction, oh mighty Seer?"

Harry blinked.

Con gave him a more serious look and went on, "We're wizards, Harry. Sometimes our guts are right. Don't need to be a haruspex for that."

"A what?" he said, spinning like a weather vane to get his bearings. The word was only vaguely familiar.

"Someone who practices divination through the reading of entrails. Usually animals."

"Usually? I can see why Hogwarts wasn't big on teaching it, at least before the Carrows."

"Maybe it was further down the agenda than practicing Unforgiveables on muggleborns."

Harry nodded absently. He'd met a lot of black-humored aurors since starting training.

He thought he'd figured out the trick to the marble-it was sort of like playing hot-hot-cold, except it wasn't just the marble's flashing or vibrating. There was a deeper presence that felt sharper when he concentrated on it. Snape was somewhere in London, somewhere nearby even.

Conrad had his wand out before Harry even processed the smell of blood a few blocks later.

He motioned Harry to stay back and advanced down the alley that the marble was very insistent was the correct one. Harry did not stay back-he was right behind Conrad, so they both saw the tableau more or less simultaneously.

He picked out Snape right away-he was slumped against the side of a building, head down. He was alive, the marble insisted, and then Harry saw his chest hitch in a deep breath. He could see his hands-swollen and dark, scathingly red in the light of their wands-clenched in his lap, but nothing else.

He was not the source of the blood. That was the other person-he couldn't figure out if it was man or a woman or even human, there just wasn't enough bare face left to see, and what he could make out wasn't… wasn't shaped right.

Conrad fired off a Body-Bind and Silencing Charm immediately and Snape barely had time to react before the spells hit. His face froze in a blank expression. The Auror hustled off to the other figure and barked at Harry, "Stay put. Do not talk to him, do not approach him, send for help if he does anything but exist. I'll send someone or be right back."

He touched the body-it was clear it wasn't anything but a body-and Disapparated with a pop.

Harry tried to keep an eye on Snape but his gaze kept skidding away. A year ago he would've been downright giddy to catch him in the act of murder-because what else could it be, from the quick glimpse he'd gotten of the figure they'd barely had a face -but now he just felt sick.

He'd been to Snape's house. Alone. Over and over.

But it seemed he'd been right all along. Right not to trust him even over Dumbledore's faith. Whatever he'd seen in those memories, it was clear now that Snape hadn't just been a passive observer to deaths he could not prevent.

Conrad's Patronus-a small bird, was it a sand piper?-whizzed up.

"Take him to the Head's office," came Conrad's voice. "Use the emergency portkey-don't go through the Atrium."

Harry nodded-absurd, you couldn't see through a Patronus-and the little bird dissolved in a flash.

He touched one single finger to Snape's shoulder and sent them both to Gawain Robard's office.

Robards himself had the look of a man pulled from bed, though Harry reckoned it couldn't have been later than 10:30 at a stretch. His normally sharp, hawkish appearance was softened by the bedhead and the peak of sheepskin slippers under his rumpled robe.

Harry had levitated Snape and dumped him in the office as-is, leaving him face-down in the awkward, humped slouch the spell had locked him into. Robards sighed, bound him with a quiet " incarcerous ", and dispelled the Body-Bind. Snape crumpled, then slowly pulled himself into a proper sitting position, still on the floor.

Robards motioned Harry to sit on the other side of the desk as he thumped down himself.

"Not much point in taking the Silencing Charm off until we figure out what the hell is going on," said Robards lightly. "Legilimency and truth serums are a waste of time on that one."

"Sir. This is-not what we trained on. Why did Williamson tell me to take him here and not to Azkaban for processing?"

Robards shook his head. "Know the rules before you break the rules, Potter. I want to know who that was first. For all we know Azkaban is exactly where he wants to be, to break out the other Death Eaters."

Harry supposed that made sense.

"A question for a question, boy."

Harry caught Snape's full-body twitch from the corner of his eye.

"How did you know where to go?"

"Er." Shit.

He supposed it was now or never. Harry told an abbreviated, maybe a little cleaned up version of the whole sordid thing-about how he felt after the battle, about Snape finding him, trying to help. It seemed innocent at the time, but. Merlin, he'd spent so much time there.

Robards sighs.

"Potter. Harry. We'll talk more about this later, but if you find yourself struggling, please. My door is always open. You won't be the first Auror and you won't be the last, unfortunately. Now. What's this about a marble?"

"We both have them. Twinned," he said, setting his on the desk.

The auror paled a little and immediately summoned Snape's, setting the two side by side and muttering a number of spells over them.

"I didn't-I didn't sense anything-" He's been carrying the thing around with him and had just-had just trusted that it was just what Snape had said it was.

"Hush. Well, that's interesting."

"What, sir?"

"This is a complicated bit of spellwork but not so unusual for a-" He coughs. "For what it is. Nothing Dark about it. Just the two of them-would've been a bit alarming if there were more."

He was interrupted by one of the Ministry's flying paper memos. Robards snatched it, scanned it quickly, stared at Snape, and then read the memo again. He pressed his lips together and Harry had the absurd thought that he would need a better poker face if he wanted Robards's job someday.

He removed the Silencing Spell.

"You knew it was Lestrange."

"Yes." Snape's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"You got a message out to Harry for help but managed to subdue him before he and Auror Williamson arrived."

"Yes."

"He struck first and you defended yourself. Sadly, Rabastan Lestrange died of injuries sustained during the altercation before he could be brought to justice."

Snape hesitated. Then said yes.

The room went still. Then Robards dropped the spell holding Snape.

"Floo back in the morning for the official statement. I'll have your account reactivated for transit here and to St. Mungo's only, for your own security. Those fireplaces are guarded. Please refrain from wandering the streets of London after dark, Severus. No need to tempt fate."

He paused, then rounded the desk and yanked Snape to his feet. Harry saw him blanch and stagger, but Robards barely noticed, shaking Snape's hand like he'd just won the lottery.

"Thank you," he breathed. "The Longbottoms are ours. Whatever you did-he deserved it."

He finally looked down.

"Merlin's beard, why didn't you say anything?" He dropped Snape's swollen hand like it was on fire. "We'll get you off to St. Mungo's-"

"No," Snape broke in, voice cracking. "I'll be fine. Is there somewhere I can clean up?"

"Potter?" Robards turned to Harry. "Please escort Mr. Snape to the lounge. By the time you're done," he said, turning back to Snape, "I should have the Floo change taken care of. Dagenham in Transportation owes me a favor. I won't make you go to hospital but I hope you reconsider."

Harry did as he was told without complaint. For once, a smarmy voice in the back of his head finished, sounding an awful lot like Snape. He didn't know what to say to the man himself, and so he didn't say anything at all, just led him silently to the private bathroom, and then watched him limp into the fireplace.

Harry caught Ron's eye the next morning, before an all-day seminar on stealth. Of course his best friend had rushed in at the last minute, and it wasn't like they were coming from the same dorm anymore, so Harry had to wait through the three hours of lecturing before the break for lunch.

Noon couldn't come fast enough. He wanted to get this over with before they went into practicals and he had to wait for another three hours. Last night aside… His Invisibility Cloak was literally an artifact out of myth and legend-he could just wear the cloak.

Ron finally cornered him and they went to a nearby Muggle cafe, not the one that Ministry workers frequented. Harry had gotten used to being able to just eat a ham and swiss without being gawped at.

Harry cast muffliato with a guilty look around. "D'yeh hear about Rabastan Lestrange?"

"What about him?" Ron said around his pastrami on rye. "Somebody got him last night, yeah? You don't-blimey, was it you?"

"Williamson and me, yeah."

Ron whistles.

"We were on patrol last night. And apparently Lestrange attacked Snape, on his way home from St. Mungo's."

"From the werewolf thing?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. He alright?"

"Well. I mean, Lestrange is dead. Snape seemed… I dunno. He killed him."

"And?"

Harry shook his head. "You don't get it-he beat him. Broke his hand doing it. Conrad took him off to hospital before I could get a good look but I wish I didn't see any of it. His face, he barely looked human. I don't know what to think about him anymore."

"He was a monster already, Harry," Ron frowns. "Why is this freaking you out so much?"

"He's not a-I wouldn't go so far as monster …"

"He drove Neville's parents insane!"

"What? No! I was talking about Snape."

"Why would you think any different about Snape? He's a nasty git who just happens to be nasty to people who deserve it sometimes."

"Well, I mean, I guess he is after all. It's just… I thought maybe he was different? He-he's actually been helping me with."

He stopped. This was not how he imagined this conversation would go.

Harry took a deep breath and started over. "I was having a really hard time after everything in May. Just… everything. All of it. He… found out. He's been helping. That's what I've been doing, when I say I'm busy with the werewolf thing. He's done most of it, to be honest."

Ron finally put his sandwich down. "Let me get this straight. You've been hanging out with Snape all summer, not us, not even my sister. And now you're upset because you thought he was too mean to Rabastan Lestrange? Known Death Eater, blood purist, bonkers brother-in-law to the person who tortured Hermione in a basement?"

"I mean, it's more complicated than that, but."

"We're coming to your flat after work and we're going to talk about this."

Hermione and Ron showed up at six for dinner, true to his word, carrying bags of take-out curry. Harry had been embarrassed the first time he'd had them over-the flat was unambiguously a bachelor pad, with a fridge full of leftovers forcibly provided by Mrs. Weasley and a mishmash of battered thrift store furniture and nothing much in the way of personal effects. Everything he cared about had always had to fit within his trunk, after all.

But this flat was all his, and it was clean, and light streamed in through the windows in the mornings, and that was enough. He thought maybe he'd even get another owl before the start of term, so he could write to Ginny whenever he wanted.

Like lunch with Luna, it was nice to just catch up over food for a while. Hermione was disappointed not to be more involved in "the werewolf thing," as Ron had taken to calling it. Harry placated her by offering to let her coordinate the expansion, if the early months went well, since after all there's loads and loads of werewolves who aren't within easy distance of St. Mungo's, and wouldn't it be nice to turn being a werewolf into just… going sort of fuzzy once a month, and having to drink a disgusting potion, and not some horrible life-ruining nightmare?

She agreed and allowed that she will also need to focus, at some point, on attaining a frightening number of NEWTS.

Finally, Harry pulled the baklava from the fridge.

"Harry, this is amazing," Hermione sighed. "Where did you get it? I don't remember the tea shop doing carry-out."

"I guess we should talk about that," he said slowly. "Snape sent it home with me."

Ron sputtered crumbs all over the table and raced for the sink.

"Ronald Weasley!" shrieked Hermione over the faucet, before she and Harry burst into laughter.

"Merlin's balls, Ron," Harry gasped. "D'yeh think I'd poison you?"

"Not you but he might!" he cried, swallowing one last cupped hand's worth of water.

"If he was poisoning the baked goods I'd be dead and not just loosening my belt."

"Yeah, well you've been looking a little rounder lately."

"Ronald!" Hermione swatted him on the arm when he settled next to her on the lumpy paisley couch. "Don't listen to him Harry, you needed to fill out a little. God, I sound like his mother now. But-Snape? Baked goods? What?"

"Ron told you about Snape and Lestrange, yeah? I haven't told either of you the whole story." He pulled one knee up to his chest and folded himself back into the couch. "Right after the battle, I."

God, he couldn't do this. He shut his eyes.

"I sort of tried to jump off the Astronomy Tower."

He raised his hands, ignored both of their sudden protests.

"And-it's fine, no, let me get it out. I mean, I did jump off the tower but obviously it didn't work, I'd been feeling that way for a little while and hiding it, I didn't want anyone to worry, I know it was stupid and I… I regretted it immediately. But apparently I'm not the first one to have that idea because it was spelled to drop me off with the headmaster, and that was technically Snape, and maybe it was for the best because apparently he'd done the same thing? I made him swear not to tell anyone and he's been giving me a potion to help all summer."

He squeezed his eyes shut and thus flinched when Hermione wrapped him in a hug.

"Oh Harry. We all lived together in a tent for months. How did we miss this? Why didn't you-"

"I'm the reason we were living in that tent!" He pulled back, scrunching himself up again against the sofa back. "If you weren't my friends-"

"Stop right there," Hermione bit out. Harry shut his mouth with a clack. "You don't want to finish that sentence. What did or did not happen to anyone in this war was not your fault, not your responsibility. You don't get the blame or the credit. I would have lived in that tent with-with a blast-ended skrewt if it meant defeating Voldemort."

Harry cracked a smile and hoped Hermione wouldn't punch him for it. "Wouldn't have even had a tent for very long with one of them."

"You can talk to us you know," Ron said, and he was definitely not smiling. "Either of us. And Ginny, too, you know that right? We all-" he took a deep breath, "We all love you. Obviously not all of us the same way, not like my sister and you, I mean, you're already my brother basically-"

"Ron, you can stop. I get it."

He stopped.

Then started, "But why Snape?"

Harry shrugged. "I was just sort of… in a panic at first. And-I hadn't really seen him in the infirmary, so that was a lot to take in too. He looked, just a mess. And he was, I don't even know why, willing to listen to me talk. I figured there's no way he could think any worse of me."

"First off," Hermione said firmly, "Neither of us think any less of you. I need you to understand that. Anyone who does is just… just wrong." She paused, then went on, "But do you really think he's changed? If he did… what it sounds like he did. And-he did the same thing, you said? You mean he jumped off the tower?"

"That was the least surprising thing, actually. 'M not saying he was an amazing teacher, or a good person. But he seems like he wants to help. The Wolfbane was his idea, honestly. I think it was just as much for him as it was for me, if not more so. And that potion he's been giving me-actually I don't know what he called it. Some variant of a calming draught? I don't think he ever told me."

"Can I see?"

Harry pulled one of the bottles out from the breadbox-he'd gotten it from a wizard shop with a preserving charm already on it. She took her time: not just spellwork, but wafting the fumes toward her nose, examining the liquid, even tasting a drop of it.

"It reminds me of… what was it, The Elixir to Induce Euphoria, that you made for Slughorn? It isn't quite, though."

"Maybe he's been using you as a test subject, mate. Feeling batty lately? Urge to dwell in dungeons?"

Harry flinched. "No more batty than I was before."

"Fuck, I'm sorry Harry. I didn't think-"

"It's fine, it was a joke, I get it." He took a deep breath. "It makes sense that it's a less intense version of the euphoria elixir, though. Snape compared it to muggle Prozac, if that means anything to you, Hermione."

She nodded. "It sounds like he is using you as a guinea pig, though. We'd have to check the Department for the Regulation and Registration of Spells and Potions to be sure."

"Does that make a difference? If it helps him?"

"There could be long-term side effects. We don't know. Most potions are acute-you take them, they wear off, that's it. I get the feeling this is meant to be something longer-term."

"I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"We'll figure it out," she replied with a confidence Harry wished he had. "When are you supposed to talk to him again? Could you ask him about it? If it's safe I don't think you're the only one it could help. You should check on him regardless."

"Why're you so concerned?"

"You're the one who saved his life in the first place, Ron. Being a git isn't a capital offense. If he knows what Harry went through via personal experience, I can't imagine being assaulted by Rabastan Lestrange and then killing him would be great for his stability.

"Which, come to think of it. Maybe you should ask him for the recipe, Harry. Potion master or not. I'm interested in seeing it, especially if you plan on still taking it."

He remembered how dangerous Snape had made even the cough medicine sound when brewed wrong, and swallowed. "Yeah, alright. I can firecall him at work."