Chapter 2

Harry paused on the threshold of the cottage, looking up at the wonky walls and taking in the painfully familiar surroundings. It was exactly as it always was in his daydreams, his memories, and something painful clenched around his heart. A lump formed in his throat and his palms felt sweaty as he tried to gather the courage to knock.

The kitchen window was open and he heard voices drifting gently through it, compelling him to move a little closer and see if he could hear what was being said. It was no surprise to find Ron was already there and Harry listened as he heard his friend's voice.

"I hate that bloody tea, Sev."

"Don't drink it then," came the amused-sounding response.

"You never offer me anything else!"

"You know where everything is, help your bloody self."

"You're so rude to guests," Ron huffed.

"You're not a guest, you're a constant irritation."

"You say the nicest things."

Gritting his teeth at the pang of jealousy their little interplay gave him, Harry gave the front door a loud knock that was perhaps a little too vicious. A moment later and Ron answered it, a smile on his face as he said, "Right on time."

He stepped aside to let Harry enter and Harry tried not to let it irk him too much that Ron was so familiar with the place he felt comfortable answering the door. He stood in the porch for a moment, his nerves in pieces as it truly dawned on him that he was back.

"Sev's in the kitchen," came Ron's voice behind him, and Harry swallowed hard before he nodded and willed his feet to move.

Severus was standing next to the long wooden table they'd sat at so many times, his hands clasped behind his back, and Harry's stomach lurched unpleasantly to see him. The man looked well; his hair was tied at the nape of his neck and he stood tall and proud, his physique looking good from what Harry could see.

He still looked strong and imposing, but the guarded hostility that had once been a permanent fixture on his features was no longer there and it made him look softer, young in a contrary sort of way.

"Hello, Harry," he said softly, and Harry had to stop himself from running and flinging himself into the man's arms.

"Hello, Severus," he replied, hoping his voice wasn't betraying him. "You're looking well."

"As are you."

"Harry," said Ron behind him, "have you got your luggage with you?"

"It's shrunken in my pocket."

"Great. You're in your old room, why don't you go ahead and get settled and we can talk things through over lunch?"

Harry nodded, knowing an instruction when he heard one. He gave Severus another glance, unable to stop himself, then turned and headed for the stairs, hearing Ron say gently to Severus,

"Are you ok?"

"Of course," came the clipped response.

Harry padded softly up the stairs, running his hand over the twisted old banister as he went. The place still smelt the same and it re-ignited memories that were so wonderfully bittersweet he thought he finally understood the kind of pleasure masochists derived. The bedroom was the one he had stayed in all those years ago and he wasn't ashamed when tears pricked his eyes at the sight of it.

Everything was the same; the deep, red curtains, the squishy green armchair by the small fireplace, the incongruously big wardrobe that Harry had once jokingly suggested could be the gateway to Narnia and the beautiful brass bed that he had passed so many nights in. He moved slowly over to it and ran his hands over the bedding almost reverently. He sat down on it, hearing the familiar creak of the frame under his weight, remembering how it had annoyed him the first few nights he had slept in it.

It was horribly painful being back there and he wondered how Severus could live in the place day after day and what precisely it was that had prompted him to do so. He was tempted to tiptoe down the hallway and see if Severus' bedroom was the same as it had been when the man had slept there last, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

He fished his trunk out of his pocket and re-sized it, then set about unpacking his things and placing them about the room. When he had received Ron's letter telling him that Severus was inviting him to stay at the cottage while both he and Ron worked on a diagnosis and solution, his first reaction had been to tell them both to go to hell. He could think of nothing worse than going back to the cottage that featured in his dreams most nights and spending time with the man who had a starring role in those dreams, but then his rational, grown up self had taken control of the thinking process and reasoned that really, he didn't have a choice if he wanted to find a solution.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, telling himself that he couldn't put it off any longer. He slipped out of his room and back down the stairs, walking quietly towards the kitchen. He stopped just outside the doorway, peering in slightly to see Ron and Severus working side by side at the kitchen counter, preparing things for lunch and speaking quietly to one another.

"Just take it one day at a time," Ron said as he sliced a thick, brown loaf of bread.

"There's not much else I can do," Severus replied, and Harry could hear the wry smile in his voice.

"At least you have something to focus on, Sev, just see it as another of our cases."

"Yes, yes that's the best way to go about it."

Harry bristled slightly. So he was just another case was he? Charming. He cleared his throat and moved into the kitchen, forcing a smile when the two men turned around to take notice of him.

"Just in time," said Ron, placing the bread on the kitchen table, then gathering up the plate of cheese while Severus dished up the platter of cold meats.

Harry took a seat and watched Severus as he went over to take the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring the water into a waiting teapot. Ron pulled a face, no doubt thinking disparaging thoughts about Severus' tea, but Harry remembered the taste of it with nothing but fondness and found himself suddenly desperate to taste it again.

Severus brought the teapot and mugs over to the table and sat down opposite Harry, while Ron fished around the in the cupboards for a cannister containing other teabags, popping one in a mug and filling it with water from the kettle on the stove. He then brought out the plates and cutlery and set them on the table, Harry realising just how familiar Ron was with the place.

"Thanks," he said, as Severus handed him a full mug of tea and he closed his eyes as he breathed in the familiar smell. It wasn't to everyone's taste, but he loved it and, although it hurt slightly, he loved all the things it made him remember.

"How's the pain today?" Ron asked him as he settled himself down and began loading his plate up with food.

"Bearable," Harry said after taking a sip of his tea. "It's mostly a dull ache in my back and hips but nothing that's affecting my mobility too much."

Ron nodded and held out his hand, wordlessly summoning his satchel from the kitchen counter. Ron had always been powerful; Harry could never understand why people could never see that when they were younger, but after spending time with Severus he became more so.

Ron produced Harry's medical file and set it down in front of him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a muggle pen. Harry suppressed a smile, thinking how proud Arthur would be of his son. Ron made a couple of notes as he continued to eat, then looked up again at Harry and said,

"At the moment we still don't know what curse you've been hit with, but while we figure it out we're going to try and give you a better quality of life."

Harry looked between Ron and Severus questioningly and Severus placed his mug of tea down, saying, "I'll be trialling a selection of pain-relief potions for you. They'll need to be custom made, hence why you're here. Once we have a better idea of exactly which curse you were it with, we can start to formulate an antidote or counter-spell."

Harry nodded and Ron picked up where Severus left off, saying around a mouthful of bread and cheese, "I'll be here every few days to conduct your physical rehabilitation and Bill will be by in a day or so to take a look at you. He's already formulated some ideas," he continued, taking notes, "but we'll need continuous samples from you to see how or if it's affecting you at a cellular level, and we need a little more time to do some proper research."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be monitored rather carefully," Severus said, regarding him over the rim of his mug.

"Hey, as long as no one's watching me while I'm in the bathroom, I'll be just fine," Harry replied, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.

Ron snorted and said, "No one has any intention of doing that."

He made a few further notes, chewing his bottom lip while he scribbled away. Severus leant a little over his shoulder, placing an arm over the back of Ron's seat as he did so, and started to read what Ron was writing.

"Your handwriting is appalling," Severus told the man.

Ron gave a dramatic sigh and glared across the older man. "So you tell me at least once a week. I suppose we should all write in over-flourished, fancy-pants calligraphy like you should we?"

"It would be an improvement on that chicken scratch," Severus said with a quirk of his eyebrow. "You should pity me for having to read it for seven years."

"Six," Ron corrected. "If you remember, I didn't complete my 7th year."

"And doesn't it just show?" Severus teased.

"You're such a git."

Harry felt deeply uneasy watching the easy interplay between the two men in front of him. The ugly little ball of jealousy settled in the pit of Harry's stomach again and he knew that somewhere, a little part of his brain was whispering, "It's your own fault you cretin, you were the one who left".

Ron stopped scribbling and flipped the file shut so that Severus couldn't read any more of it, then looked up at Harry, saying, "I'll need you to keep your own records, Harry. I need a detailed account of each day in terms of your level of pain, discomfort, fatigue, appetite, headaches and so on. It has to be as in depth as you can make it. Start from today please."

Harry nodded his compliance, wondering what had happened to the awkward, bumbling teenager he had once known and how he had come to be replaced by this efficient, self-assured man who seemed to be in control of every situation.

"Right, well I'd best be on my way, I have afternoon surgery to attend to," Ron said, packing his things back into his satchel. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow and we'll start your rehab process."

"Sounds good," said Harry, getting to his feet as Ron did the same. "I really appreciated this mate, I can't tell you."

A strange look crossed Ron's face, replaced quickly with a small smile. "Don't mention it," he said softly.

"You um…you'll say hi to Drake for me?"

"Yeah," Ron said, his eyes darting to Severus. "Of course I will. I'm sure he'll be by to visit soon. He um…he's missed you."

Harry smiled, knowing it looked pathetic, and said, "Me too. It'd be good to see him."

"I'll see you out," Severus said quietly, placing his hand in the small of Ron's back as the two men moved out of the kitchen.

Harry couldn't help himself; under the pretence of placing the lunch dishes in the sink, he moved over to the window and carefully glanced out to see Ron leaving the cottage, Severus behind him. They stopped and spoke for a moment then Ron reached up and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder, a touch that the man leant into with a smile. Something was said and they both laughed, then after a brief hug Ron disappeared with a soft pop and Severus was left standing alone.

Harry let out a shaky breath and gripped the side of the sink as stood there. It was stupid, Ron was with Draco and Severus…well who knew about Severus? He certainly didn't, that was for sure. What he did know was that no one touched Severus the way Ron did, and Severus didn't laugh or smile like that with anyone else. It was true that he was a different man since the end of the war, hell everyone was different, but he wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life leaving the way he had done when it had all ended.

It had been years since he'd first set foot in the cottage but, standing there with all the memories permeating the air, it felt like it had just been yesterday. The circumstances that had brought them there had been unusual but then, just about everything in Harry's life was unusual, why should that have been any different?

~*~*~ 8 Years Ago ~*~*~

Everyone was seated around the long, slightly splintered, table in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, suffering through the weekly de-briefing. Harry and Hermione were wedged next to the twins, while McGonagall, Remus, Tonks and Bill sat opposite, all nursing lukewarm cups of tea that no one seemed to want as it was particularly warm outside. Ron and Severus were standing leaning against the cabinets, both with their arms crossed and faces guarded as they all listened to Dumbledore's unusually sharp tones.

"And so, as you can surmise, things have somewhat descended into chaos since Severus was unmasked as a traitor," said the headmaster, standing at the head of the table, his long, bony hands braced on the chair in front of him.

In the last few months he seemed to have dropped his kindly old elf routine and instead had taken to behaving much like an efficient war general. It was refreshing, Harry had decided, and he preferred the direct, competent approach the man seemed to be taking rather than the elusive, twinkling, scheming persona that had so often frustrated the hell out of him.

"Ever since Draco Malfoy took the Mark as well – "

"Malfoy's taken the Mark?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes I'm afraid so, we were alerted to it last night. Kingsley's team were staking out Malfoy Manor and reported the initiation back to us."

No one else seemed to notice the look that passed between Ron and Severus, but Harry did, and he also noticed the unusually pale shade his friend had gone. Severus quirked one black eyebrow and Ron gave a surreptitious nod, drawing his arms closer around himself. Harry frowned but turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"They also reported something that, while expected, is perturbing, nevertheless." Dumbledore paused to re-arrange his small glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The Death Eaters are seeking retribution, vengeance for Severus' betrayal. You're not safe, my boy," he said, and Harry's stomach lurched.

Severus snorted and said, "When have I ever been? This, as you say, isn't unexpected."

"No," Dumbledore agreed, "but it is avoidable."

"Headmaster?" Severus asked, his expression immediately suspicious.

"I believe it would be best if you were to…go to ground for a while. You're too vulnerable at the moment and too valuable to us to lose you. A couple of months until their bloodlust blows over should do it."

Harry had expected Severus to refuse point black, to stand there with his arms folded, his black eyes unyielding as he told the headmaster in no uncertain terms that he would rather eat a Hippogriff than acquiesce to the suggestion. It was something of a surprise then when the man simply inclined his head slightly and said softly, "Very well, Headmaster, if you think it best."

Everyone seemed to have been thinking the same as Harry, for they all looked askance at Severus' mild acceptance of the situation, all apart from Ron who simply stood where he was, smiling slightly into his chest.

Dumbledore recovered from his shock sufficiently more quickly than the rest of them and said, "Well that's…splendid dear boy, splendid. There is a…second part to that plan," he added, looking at Severus guardedly.

"Oh?" Severus asked, with such a reasonable expression that Harry wondered if perhaps the real Severus had, in fact, been killed when he'd been unmasked as a traitor, and that the man standing before him was a Death Eater disguised with Polyjuice.

"I would like Harry to go with you."

"What?" Harry said, snapping his head round so quickly to look at Dumbledore that he wasn't sure how he hadn't broken his neck. "Headmaster, what are you talking about?"

"It would be an excellent opportunity for you to continue your education with Severus."

"In Potions?" Harry asked with a slight squeak to his voice, earning himself a scathing laugh from Severus.

"I would hardly think so, Mr Potter," the man said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, not in Potions, Harry, in Defence," said Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "But…but I hardly think it's a good idea for me to go with Professor Snape, I'm sure he wouldn't want me there, he wouldn't – "

"He can speak for himself, Mr Potter," came the low voice and Harry turned back to look at the man.

"Well?" Harry asked. "You don't want me going with you, do you? I'm sure you couldn't think of anything worse."

"Oh? And when did you become so adept at Legilimency?"

Harry blushed slightly but stood his ground, nevertheless. "So you do want me to come with you?" he asked sceptically.

Severus straightened himself up slightly and turned his attention away from Harry and back to Dumbledore. "If you wish Potter to come with me so he can continue to attempt to learn from me, then I have no objections."

Dumbledore was clearly as taken aback as everyone else in the room and for a moment all the man could do with blink owlishly at the former Potions Master. Harry was certain that Dumbledore had expected all-out war in response to his suggestion, as indeed Harry himself had, and yet there the man stood, tall and proud, stating with perfect equanimity that he didn't have a problem with it. What had happened to the world?

"Well that's…most decent of you Severus," Dumbledore said when he seemed to have recovered sufficiently enough from his shock.

Severus gave a curt nod and Ron seemed to be trying very hard to stop himself from laughing. Harry glared at him; he couldn't imagine what about this situation could be remotely amusing. He noted that, although everyone seemed to have been concerned with whether or not Severus would agree to the proposition, nobody had given a second thought to how he felt about the matter.

While Dumbledore informed them that they would be going to McGonagall's cottage in Northern Scotland, Harry sat and thought about how on earth he was going to manage living alone with the tall, glowering man. It was the stuff of his fantasies, but even he wasn't stupid enough to imagine that what transpired in his dreams could possibly translate into reality. It was true that, in the year or so since Hogwarts had disbanded and he and Severus had worked together, some of their previous hostility had dissipated somewhat, but things were by no means easy.

Now they were expected to exist alone together in a remote Scottish cottage in the arse-end of nowhere, how was that supposed to work? It would be torture, pure and simple, Harry decided. While they were at Grimmauld Place or out on an Order mission, things were relatively safe; there were others to buffer them, others to talk to and take the pressure off, but for it to be just the two of them, day after day, surely Harry's secret would come to light.

"Well, I suggest that the two of you be allowed some time to pack and we can sort you out with a portkey," came Dumbledore's voice, breaking through his painful musings.

Everyone seemed to take that as their cue for dismissal, and the party broke up, everyone apparently having other things to attend to. Harry sat at the table, watching as Hermione and the twins left the room and Remus and Tonks apparated away. He stared down into his cold, half-drunk cup of tea and strained his ears slightly to hear Ron lean in and whisper to Severus,

"Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Of course, it's just a cottage, Ron."

"You know what I mean."

"I know full well what you mean and I'd advise you to let the matter drop."

"You're a stubborn git," Ron hissed. "You can still change your mind."

"I have no intention of doing so, let that be an end to it."

Severus swept past him and Harry glanced up in time to see Ron rolling his eyes and glaring after the man, but it wasn't the kind of glare Ron used to wear in his dealings with the Slytherin. This one looked like the kind he wore when he was chastising Harry, the kind he wore when he was worried about someone he cared about. Harry wasn't quick enough to look away by the time Ron's gaze moved to him, so he simply settled for giving his friend a shrug and a wan smile.

Ron returned the smile then left the kitchen. Harry wondered if perhaps he was going off after Severus, but he decided that whatever was going on between the two men, it was unlikely that Ron was daft enough to push the man.

Harry found that he was suddenly alone in the kitchen and he blinked at the empty room, feeling as though his world had slipped slightly askew. When he had woken up that morning it was a day like any other, there had been nothing out of the ordinary to alert him to the fact that by the afternoon things were going to go so spectacularly off course. He felt as though he had slipped into an alternate universe; how else could he explain the fact that everyone expected he and Severus to co-habit peacefully hundreds of miles away from the rest of the Order?

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands, trying not to imagine what the next few weeks would possibly have in store for him. He managed to push his ridiculous thoughts about the black-haired man to the back of his mind most days, but that was a lot easier to do when they sometimes went days without seeing each other and when he was living in a house that made The Burrow look devoid of life. How the hell was he going to cope when it was just the two of them in a remote cottage day after day?

"My life is a farce," he whispered into the silence, wishing that Voldemort would attack in the next few minutes and put him out of his misery.

AN: Hope you enjoyed, please let me know.