"Damn, this one's a dozy. What in Merlin's name did they use for a base on it?" Harry Potter was talking to himself as he surveyed his latest challenge. At 30 he was a curse breaker at a private firm, Glennings and Sons – est. 1284. A damn fine curse breaker if you asked him. He specialized in family heirlooms. It was a thriving branch of curse breaking. Apparently a lot of wizards and witches really disliked their descendants.

He surveyed the latest heirloom with dismay. It was a broach that would render the wearer mute for two months. Why the hell anyone would ever wear it was beyond him, the thing was hideous. But, some wizard with more money and lineage than good sense wanted to give it to his fiancé. So, he called on Glennings, who called on Harry. He'd already had the blasted thing for two weeks and the client was getting antsy. Harry'd already tried every means at his disposal to determine the nature of the curse. So far he'd  turned up squat. The only option he had left was a variation of the disclosing potion. The only person who met Glennings standards for that particular potion was Severus Snape. Harry sighed and glared at the broach. He hadn't seen Snape in 13 years, and that was just fine with him.

Snape had been a great help in the defeat of Voldemort. If it weren't for the information the man had gathered in his work as a spy many more people would have died. Harry had come to know the man a little better during briefings with the Order. Even began to respect him for doing such a thankless job. He never did get along with the sarcastic, malicious man, however. Looking back though, he could see the wicked sense of humor and biting wit the man posesed. In hindsight, and with the distance of years, the time he'd spent with Snape had been enjoyable. The older man had kept him on his toes with his verbal jabs and never let him wallow in self pity when things went wrong.

Hmm, Harry thought, maybe it's time to pay Snape a visit. See if memory stacks up to reality.

%% Hogwarts, 12 years earlier %%

It'd been a week since the brats had left for the summer and Severus Snape finally felt relaxed enough to enjoy the quiet. All the irksome end of term business had been finished. His classroom was cleaned and closed up. Orders for next years supplies had been sent. The last parent, upset about their precious child's grades, had been dealt with. It was finally his time. Time to relax, catch up on the latest advances in potions and do a bit of research of his own.

This summer was sweeter than any in too long to consider. It would be the first in much too long without the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head like the sword of Damascles.

He was finally free of the mistake he'd made in his youth. He, for one, felt he'd atoned enough. Too bad he was in the minority with that opinion. When the truth of his role in the war had come out, there had been an uproar. The vast majority of the public couldn't get past him being a Death Eater. Even being a former Death Eater turned spy had not helped. The consensus was, once a Death Eater always a Death Eater.

He'd managed, thanks to Albus Dumbledore, to avoid Azkaban. In the court of public opinion however, he was damned. He'd been accosted in public and his job had been threatened. Severus had kept his position, again thanks to Albus, but he avoided going out in public. Even a year later he was still vilified. He sometimes wondered if it was worth it. Then, he would remember seeing the Dark Mark fade from his flesh. That was worth nearly anything. Still, though, he did wonder.

Relaxing in front of the fire, there was always a chill in the dungeons, he unwrapped the package that had arrived that morning. There was no return address or sender information on the plain brown paper it was wrapped in. Very unusual, and Severus was a paranoid man. However, the package had made it through his wards. If there were anything malicious within, the wards would've detected it. The paper came away to reveal an ornate wooden box. Severus turned it in his hands, the craftsmanship was exquisite, not a seam to be seen. It was constructed of two contrasting woods that flowed together as if they were from the same tree. Who would send him such a trinket? His curiosity roused, nimble fingers found the seam of the lid and opened it.

The empty interior of the box was the last thing he saw as the world went black.

When he came to, he found himself lying in the infirmary, subject to the worried gaze of Headmaster Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Severus rasped out. His tongue felt thick, his mouth was dry and his throat was sore, signs he'd long ago learned to associate with unconsciousness. Clearing his throat he spoke again, "How long?"

Dumbledore sighed, relief evident on his face, "Three days that we know of. It's midday Thursday now. When you didn't appear for any meals Monday I went to check on you." He handed Severus a glass of water as the younger man sat up. "You were unconscious on the floor of your parlor. When I was unable to rouse you I brought you here."

"Since Sunday evening then," Severus muttered taking another small sip of water. "Was there a small wooden box with me?"

"Yes, on the floor next to you. It's been checked for curses and hexes," Dumbledore looked worried again, "all that was found was the residue of powerful magic on the inside of the box. Not enough to be able to tell what magic was used however."

Severus sighed, setting aside the now empty water glass he lay back down. With resignation in his voice he asked, "What did it do to me?" From the look on Albus' face it wasn't good.

"We aren't sure, whatever it was left no trace." The Headmaster looked uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Come now, old friend, what are you holding back?" he braced himself for the worst.

"Severus," Albus looked unsettled, "you no longer have a magical signature."

%% present %%

Harry apperated to the gates of Hogwarts. Gazing up at the castle he felt the same sense of homecoming he had as a student. Letting the feeling wash over him he wondered why he'd waited so long to come back. Walking up the path he marveled at how unchanged it looked. He knew there had been changes though. Dumbledore had retired a few years ago, McGonagall was headmistress now. He wondered what other changes had occurred and if he'd have the time to explore his former home to find those changes. Business first though, he needed to see Headmistress McGonagall to find out if Professor Snape was available.

The gargoyle was the same as he remembered, it made him grin. He'd learned a few things since he'd been a student however. He had no need to try to guess the password; he told the gargoyle his name and reason for wanting to see the Headmistress and waited. The information would be delivered and some one would meet him or let him up.

After only a few minutes wait the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the moving staircase. Traveling along on the staircase he let the memories of past trips to the office flow through his mind, the good and the bad. Unfortunately the bad far out numbered the good. The news of Sirius' death, Uncle Vernon's death, the attacks on wizards that occurred daily near the end of the war, and the one that still hurt all these years later, Draco Malfoy's murder at his own father's hands.

Harry remembered the day like it was yesterday. It had been Yule hols his seventh year. Draco had begun spying for the Order of the Phoenix in his fifth year. With his introduction into the Order his sixth year Harry had become his handler. Working together they had developed a friendship. There was so much to the blond no one ever saw. On Harry's part, deeper feelings had developed. He came to love the ambitions, irreverent boy. He'd never told a soul of his feelings however. The middle of a war wasn't' the time he'd told himself.

Then, in October of their seventh year Voldemort had finally fallen. Harry had felt he could finally tell Draco how he felt. They'd been able to be open about their friendship, and most didn't seem to care. By Yule holidays he'd finally gathered enough courage. He was going to tell Draco he loved him when the other boy came back after the holidays. The blond had gone home to be with his mother - Lucius had disappeared during the final confrontation. He knew gender wasn't an issue to either of them. Their sexuality was only one of the things they'd talked about during long rambling discourses. He spent the holiday on tenter hooks anticipating Draco's reaction to his revelation.

On December 27, Dumbledore had called him to his office and given him the news that Draco was dead. Lucius had killed him before Narcisa managed to subdue him. Harry had been numb as Dumbledore handed him a roll of parchment. It was from Draco. He'd left the office in a daze. The next weeks were a blur. He managed to finally get himself together, but was unable to bring himself to read the letter from Draco. It wasn't till the evening before graduation that he read it. Closing himself within his bed curtains, with ample spells to ensure he wouldn't be disturbed, he unrolled the parchment.

Harry,

To sound like a bad cliché, if you're reading this I'm dead. With Voldemort dead I'd hoped I'd be safe, but with my father missing, well, I'm sure he's what happened to me.

I've enjoyed our friendship. You are more than the scar on your face and I'm glad I got to know that. I'm also glad you refused my friendship all those years ago. Two reasons, first, it started me on the road to thinking for myself. Second, it was fun being your adversary. You are a worthy opponent.

Don't take on any guilt for my death. There was no way for you to know or prevent it. I made my own choices, good and bad. You gave that to me.

I have only one regret, I'm not brave enough to tell you how I feel. I know it's wrong of me to do this, but, I love you. Harry Potter, not The Boy Who Lived or the savior of the wizarding world, but who you are inside. Don't ever settle for less than that.

May the gods bless your life, Harry.

Love, Draco

He'd sobbed himself to sleep that night.

Shaking off the melancholy of the memories, Harry knocked on the Headmistress' door. At the crisp "Enter" he stepped in. The office hadn't really changed, the same portraits hung on the walls, the knick-knacks were different, but still abundant. The main difference was the lack of Fawkes. The phoenix had gone with Dumbledore when the old man had retired. Professor McGonagall, rather Headmistress McGonagall, looked the same as she had 13 years ago.

"Harry Potter," she greeted warmly as she rose from behind her desk and approached him, "what a surprise. What brings you back to Hogwarts?"

Shaking her hand, Harry sat in one of the armchairs before the fireplace at her gesture. "Business, unfortunately Headmistress."

"Please, call me Minerva, you've earned the right." She sat in the chair opposite Harry, "Would you care for some tea while we discuss business?"

"Yes, please," Harry answered, settling back in his chair, "that would be lovely."

With a wand gesture a tea service appeared on the small table between them. Pouring the tea Minerva asked, "What kind of business brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I'm working as a curse breaker for Glennings and Sons," he accepted the cup she offered. "I'm having difficulty with a particular item and was hoping to enlist Professor Snape's help."

"If you don't mind me asking, why Severus? As I recall, the two of you never got on well while you were at school," the Headmistress' tone was curious.

"Well," Harry took a sip of his tea, "Professor Snape is the only potion maker in Britain, outside of those they already employee, that meets Glennings standards. They are very particular about their reputation."

"Oh my, that could be a problem," Minerva sighed, "Severus no longer works with us."

"Oh, where is he now? Did he finally go into research full time?" Harry was curious, as much as he'd disliked the Professor's methods he couldn't imagine the man doing anything but teaching.

The older woman sighed again, "No, he didn't go into research. In fact, I don't believe anyone knows where he is."

Well, this was unexpected. "What happened to him, if I may ask?"

"I'm not sure," the Headmistress replied. "About 12 years ago he was ill for some time. When he recovered, he left the school. That was the last time I saw him. I'm not sure even Albus knows where he went."

"That throws a spanner in the works," Harry was disappointed, he'd begun to look forward to seeing his former professor. "I'll have to inform Glennings he's no longer available. Would it be alright if I wandered around the castle a bit? For old times sake."

"That would be fine." They stood and moved to the door, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you not to disturb any classes in session."

Harry chuckled, "Of course not Headmistress. Thank you for your time, and the tea."

"Certainly Harry," she opened the office door for him, "feel free to visit anytime, you're always welcome."

He grinned, "Thank you," and took his leave. Re-exploring his old home would be a perfect way to spend the afternoon.