Chapter Eighteen
… and I own, and grieve,
Harry was released from the infirmary the next day. His friends were naturally happy to see him well and – outwardly, at least - unharmed by his experience. They also seemed more resolved than ever not to let him out of their sight. Nothing Harry said could make them change their minds. He just hoped they'd let him go to tutoring alone.
He was able to fill in some of the gaps in the story Dumbledore had given them without giving away too much of what had really happened two days ago. He had told Severus he was not distressed or guilt-ridden because of what he had done, and it was true.
Yet somehow he didn't want anyone else to know about it. He knew they would think less of him because of it, even if Severus didn't seem to, despite his obvious unhappiness with what Harry had done. But then, his other friends hadn't seen, or done, nearly as much as his bond-mate, and he didn't want them to look at him with fear or distaste in their eyes. He knew they'd never say anything, or even show it if they could help it, but it would change how they saw him. Enough had changed in his life recently that he didn't want anything else to change just yet.
Harry had gone down to the dungeons for his lesson as usual the day after Madam Pomfrey had let him go. However, Severus had told him that there wouldn't be any more lessons for a while, since the exams were finished and it didn't seem like he needed urgent help in any particular area. On the other hand, he had assured Harry that they would resume the tutoring sessions after the holidays, which he found oddly relieving.
Harry didn't particularly feel like pushing Severus on the issue. He had largely stopped thinking about what he had done, and what Severus had done, and whether their actions made them more or less alike, and what it would do to their relationship, and even if it really mattered at all. It was too much, and also, strangely, too little to think about, since he'd realised it didn't affect his feelings much either way.
Then again, that didn't mean he didn't have lots of other concerns to bother him. There still remained what seemed, to him, like hundreds of unresolved issues between him and Severus. Still, at least they had not made a return to the hostility of Harry's first few years. Neither had they gone back to the cool refusal to admit even the existence of the other of earlier that year, which had been almost worse, in his opinion.
They got their exam results two weeks before the end of term. It turned out that Harry had passed comfortably, which was one load off his mind – which only left him with a dozen more. Hermione, as usual, had been top of the year in almost everything, and Ron too had done decently. All in all, a very satisfactory year, in that respect if nothing else.
School ended as usual at the beginning of July. After the end of term Feast – Gryffindor had won the House Cup yet again, and Severus had not appeared pleased – Harry went down to the dungeons to speak to the man. Just one visit couldn't possibly be pushing it too far, he thought to himself. After all, they were still supposed to be friends. You were supposed to say goodbye to your friends if you weren't going to see them for two months. The reasoning almost convinced him.
He followed the little 'arrow' in his mind until he found Severus in his office. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry poked his head round to see if it was safe to enter. Severus was shuffling through some papers, squinting hard at each one before setting it aside, although Harry couldn't imagine what might be on them that might make them worthy of such an intense gaze. After all, it wasn't like there was any marking for the professor to be doing on the night before all the students left, and it had to be a bit early to be going over lesson plans, even for him. Harry decided there was probably no harm in indulging his curiosity by asking, however, and he might as well do what he had come down to do at the same time. He knocked gently on the heavy door, pushing it open slightly more with a bit of effort.
"Are you busy?" he asked quietly and a little hesitantly. He lingered uneasily in the doorway as he waited for the response. He didn't want to take the chance that Severus would be offended by his intrusion if he just walked in and made himself at home. He really hoped the man wouldn't send him away, though. He didn't know if he'd be able to get up the courage to come down here again later on that evening, and in the morning he'd be leaving for Sirius and Remus' house. His house too, as they continually told him, although that thought always felt slightly odd to him.
The man looked up from his examination of the papers at the sound of Harry's voice, and even gave him a slight, welcoming, smile. "Not particularly," he said, his eyes fixed on Harry, a slight question in them, "I'm just looking through some research notes I may need over the holiday." He laid the papers in question aside carefully, shuffling them into place absently so that the edges lined up perfectly before he put a paperweight on top. "Is there something I can help you with, Harry?"
"Um, no. Not really anything special. I just wanted to say goodbye," replied Harry. He remained uncertainly in the doorway in the absence of any indication as to his welcome or lack thereof.
"Ah, yes, of course, you're leaving tomorrow." Severus made the gesture that Harry had come to recognise as representing the order to 'Come in and sit down, before I hex you for hovering in such an inane manner.' Harry obeyed with alacrity, settling into one of the chairs in front of the desk. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as 'his' one in the professor's rooms.
"You'll be returning to your godfather's house for the holidays?" Severus sounded genuinely interested, and Harry somehow found himself answering with more than the simple 'Yes' that was probably the expected response.
"For most of it. Sirius says he's got something – some trip - planned for next month, but he hasn't decided where he wants to go yet. Honestly, I think he's just trying to make up for the fact that he had to move around so much before Wormtail was captured. He's decided to travel as much as he can while making it clear that this time it's by choice. And doing it in as much luxury as possible."
"I see," said Severus. He was clearly amused by this insight into his old nemesis' mind. However, his tone showed that while he might 'see', he didn't really understand it at all.
"Anyway," Harry said. He knew he was rambling. "Yes, I'll be at Sirius' for the next month or so, but I don't know where I'll be after that. He hasn't told me anything, you see. I'll let you know where I am, though."
Severus glanced down at the papers in front of him, lifted the paperweight and shifted the top one slightly into a better position, before looking back at Harry. "I'd appreciate it."
Harry blinked. He hadn't expected Severus to actually say anything like that, though his first question had sort of indicated he felt that way, and Harry had rather hoped for it. "Um," he said, temporarily misplacing his vocabulary in his surprise.
"Come now, Harry. I thought you'd know by now that friends like to know where they can find each other." It was surprisingly good to have the teasing back, the feeling of comfort in the man's company. Harry caught himself again. Comfortable in his company, and glad of it, despite everything that had happened? Yes, he decided. He was, and glad of it besides. It was really confusing to think that you might love a man you didn't want to spend any time with.
"I'll… I'll owl you or something," he replied, suddenly realising that he'd been quiet rather longer than Severus' comment warranted. The man's eyebrow rose quizzically, which usually meant that Harry was missing something obvious. Harry gave him a blank look in response.
//Forgetting something, Harry?// His amusement was even more noticeable in that method of communication.
"Oh." Harry felt like an idiot, but then again he hadn't exactly expected Severus to want that sort of contact. Especially not now, not after his reaction to what Harry had done. Maybe he was starting to feel comfortable with Harry again now. Maybe he wanted to feel comfortable as much as Harry did. Harry told himself to stop imagining impossible things. There was hopeful, and then there was utter refusal to admit reality.
"I will be here this summer, as I usually am," Severus offered. Harry recognised the tone as 'don't ask', but he wanted to know. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
"Why?"
"There's no reason for me to go back to my house." The temperature of Severus' voice had dropped about ten degrees, and Harry decided abruptly that it wasn't really the time to push his luck by asking for more details. But it was definitely something to consider asking about when they had more time. And maybe when he was feeling a little less attached to his life, too.
"Oh." Maybe it had something to do with the dream he'd had – almost a year ago now, he realised – about the man's initiation into the Death Eaters. He wondered if there was something he could, or should, say, but couldn't come up with anything even vaguely appropriate.
"I should go and finish packing, I guess," he said instead, getting up. He tried not to fidget from foot to foot as he stood in front of Severus' desk. "I'll see you in September, I suppose?" Somehow it came out as a question, although he had intended it as a simple statement.
"Of course. Have a good holiday, Harry." Slight warmth had crept back into Severus' intonation and expression, and Harry was obscurely gladdened that he hadn't put his foot in it irretrievably once more.
"Er, you too," he said with a shy smile.
He got a real smile in return, and a 'thank you', as he left.
***
As Harry had told Severus, he was at Sirius' for the first part of the holiday. He spent it in a similar manner to the way he'd spent the last summer – doing pretty much what he wanted while Remus and his godfather were away on Dumbledore's or the Order's business. Again, they had apologised for leaving him alone, and had promised to return in time for his birthday. Harry had told them, in all honesty, that he didn't mind in the slightest having the house to himself for a while.
He enjoyed himself vastly. Considering that the fact that he had his own space would have been – was - enough to ensure his happiness, having a whole house to himself was utterly glorious. Even in Hogwarts, he had to share, and their room changed every year. Despite having spent the last three holidays in this house, in his own room, it was still new enough to be a pure, much-appreciated luxury. He was thankful all over again every time he woke up in his bed, in his room, with his clothes in his wardrobe, his things on the shelves and his pictures on the wall.
After the first few days, he didn't spend the whole of every day doing nothing, as tempting as the thought was. Honestly, he was quite bored of that after four days of it. Instead, with the aid of Sirius' cookery books, he learned to cook a greater variety of meals than he had done at the Dursleys'. He discovered that it could be lots of fun when you had some idea what you were doing and were doing it for yourself. Not, as before, making it up as you went along and hoping desperately that it would be edible, knowing that you'd only get to eat half a plate, if you were really lucky. On the other hand, there were a few – more than a few, at first - occasions where he had to scrap his attempts. Then, as he had done last summer, he drew on the generous supplies Sirius had left him, magically stored or in the Muggle-style fridge and freezer.
Sirius' whole house was like that, actually, a mixture of Muggle and wizardly conveniences that Remus had told him was nothing like any other house he'd ever seen. Harry could believe that easily.
Harry also worked his way through the other half of Sirius' collection of cheap thrillers and murder mysteries. Thinking about Severus, he got a sheaf of parchment and tried to draw something, an idea he'd had but somehow never got round to trying. He had a few attempts at it. However, he gave up that particular idea after he tried to get Hedwig to pose for him, but when he showed her his achievement, she flew off in fear.
He used the other side of the parchment to try writing a story, and that went slightly better, he thought. Slightly, but not much. Momentarily discouraged, he gave up on creativity for the time being, and dug out his mother's diaries instead. He read over them again, picking up new bits of information and things that interested him. In particular, he noticed all sorts of interesting details about Severus that he hadn't before.
One morning, as he was sitting in the garden a few days before he turned seventeen, an owl that he didn't recognise flew up to him. It didn't wait for a response, or even to be paid, merely dropped a package lightly at his feet, and flew off again.
Harry picked it up, realising that it was a parcel wrapped in brown paper with a card taped to it. His first birthday present of the year, he assumed. The parcel was squarish, and comparatively thin, tightly packaged. Harry was at a loss as to figuring out what it could contain. However, the handwriting that addressed the card to him was familiar – after all, he'd seen it enough times on his potions homework, not to mention on the card he'd got from Severus at Christmas. Despite his overwhelming curiosity, he only allowed himself to open the card, finding a fairly standard greeting. Then he took the present upstairs to open on his birthday, setting the card up on the desk as he had done with the last.
