Harry stared into the fire, lost in thought.
Snape. He had no idea why the man made him so fiercely emotional, but he did. He always had. Whether it was fear or anger or shame, Snape had a way of making him feel things ten times stronger than normal, and that wasn't something he was comfortable with. Seeing him today had brought it all back.
Seeing the smirk on his face when he returned to Dumbledore's office after storming out like a spoiled child made Harry's entire body clench with annoyance. Seeing the gratitude in Dumbledore's eyes when he announced so obnoxiously that he had changed his mind made Harry burn.
What could Snape bring to this that wasn't there already? If Voldemort was to be killed the Ministry could bloody well do it themselves.
Harry was just...he was tired. He was ready for it to be over. He had done what he was supposed to do. The i Prophet /i declared him done, the child of prophecy they had always said he was. Hypocrites, but they were right. He had been born to a Prophecy, it had ruined every single aspect of his life, and now he had fulfilled it. Wasn't he done? Wasn't it over?
Wasn't his life his own now, for the first time?
Snape acted like it wasn't, and that infuriated Harry. What right did he have to say that? To come in and place judgement on them and what they had done, and undermine what Harry had accomplished? What had Snape done? Run off. Hidden. Made everyone think he was dead and gone. That, in Harry's eyes, pretty much erased whatever slight value his opinion might have held.
"Come on, mate. Not still sulking, are you?"
Ron's voice made him jump, and he looked around with a glare. "Don't do that! Merlin, Ron."
Ron grinned. "Oi. A little uptight?"
"What kind of Auror doesn't know better than to sneak up on people? Especially people who've been trained in Unforgivables? Really, Ron."
"Stop it. You have that Hermione voice going again." Ron, apparently unworried, sat down across from him. "Anyway, if you want privacy you should start using that room Dumbledore gave you and stop spending your time in here. " He gestured around the room.
"I like it here," Harry retorted. The couches and chairs, the wide open spaces and bright paintings. The stairs leading up to the dorms. This was home for him more than any guest room.
"Yeah. Me too." Ron looked around briefly but turned his eyes back to Harry. "So. You are still sulking, aren't you?"
Harry glared at him then turned back to the fire.
"Oh, come on. Was he that bad?"
"It hasn't been that many years, Ron. You know what he's like."
"Yeah. But you're the hero now, and he's just the bitter git who ran away like a...a git." Ron shrugged. "You win, don't you."
Harry blew out a breath, throwing himself back against the chair. "What good is winning if he doesn't act like I won? Really, is one bit of appreciation too much to ask? I brought Voldemort himself in. Alive."
Ron blinked. "You want Snape to thank you?"
"No! I want..." He frowned. "I want him to go away. That's all."
"Mmm hmm." Ron didn't look convinced.
Harry frowned into the fire. He didn't know what he wanted. Snape's approval and respect meant nothing to him. He didn't need to earn it. He had done more than enough to prove to the world that he was good enough. But a part of him just wondered...
It didn't matter. He sighed and pushed up his glasses. "Seamus."
Ron accepted the change of subject with a grunt of acknowledgement. "Wasn't dead. How about that."
"Yeah. Wonder what happened."
Seamus's disappearance had been a blow to them in sixth year. The summer had passed, long and tainted with Dursleys and fear, and then back to school to a dorm with an empty bed. The entire Finnigan family, wiped out. The act of Death Eaters, of course, lashing out at Seamus's pureblood mother ruining herself with his Muggle father, or so Minerva had explained bitterly when the four remaining Gryffindor boys had gone to her to ask.
Nothing left. Three bodies, buried on the land where their house once stood, not even mentioned in a Muggle newspaper because there was no town close enough to take note. It was a bad ending for their friend, even if Harry and Seamus hadn't always gotten along.
And now he was back, smiling and fine. Accompanying Severus Snape.
"We should get him in here and grill him. Wonder why he came with the Git?"
Harry shrugged. "They're staying here, so we'll have a chance to find out. I thinkMinerva wants to know just as badly. She never could stand losing a student. "
"Dean...would've been happy."
Another silent nod, another thrum of pain. Dean had been devestated by his best friend's death, and had jumped into the fighting with a fury that surprised everyone. His artist ambitions vanished. He trained as an auror and was killed before the training was done. A simple act of murder outside the Ministry, random curses fired into a crowd. Screams and sulphur and green lights, and Harry had been so angry at the injustice.
He wondered if Seamus knew.
His reflections, such as they were, grew darker, and he turned to Ron. "Let's talk about something else."
"Something else? You don't want to throw around theories about Seamus?" Ron grinned. "Think Snape kidnapped him during the Death Eater attack?"
"Wouldn't put it past him," Harry answered back with heat in his voice that surprised even him.
The door to the common room flew open before Ron could answer that, and Hermione dashed in. Untamed hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but her eyes were excited enough to make her look wild. "Percy's back!"
"Bully for Percy," came Ron's automatic retort.
"Ron, grow up. He's back with the Ministry's decision."
Harry's stomach gave a sharp twist, and he rose from his seat. "Let's get it over with, then."
Snape let Seamus in first, then shut the door behind him. "Well?"
"Like you were the ones waiting on us."
Snape ignored Weasley, focusing on his older brother. Percy looked, as always, like he had just been stretched on a rack and was physically unable to relax.
"First of all, Minister Fudge would like it to be known that he took into account the words of various advisors, along with the wishes of the wizarding-"
"Oh, bloody hell."
Percy's eyes snapped to Ron and then back. He opened his mouth, but hesitated as if thinking back to the spot he'd been in a prepared monologue.
"Please, Percy, just the decision." Lupin, conciliatory as always.
"Fine." Percy sniffed. "You Know Who is to die. At once."
Sighs of relief echoed through the room. Snape felt his shoulders slump. Seamus's hand appeared on his lower back.
Percy wasn't done. "And they want Harry to do it."
No surprise there.
Though obviously Potter didn't agree. "What?"
"Harry, we talked about -"
"I've done my part," Potter cut Lupin off, rising from his chair and glaring at Percy as if he had made the decision himself. "I'm done!"
"The consensus," Percy went on, "is that you are the only one who will be able to end it. There was talk for a time of asking Professor Dumbledore, but the subject of the Prophecy came up, and-"
"SOD the Prophecy," Potter shouted, hands curled in fists, face red. The eternal ten-year-old.
"The Ministry wants to be sure that it is done right and that we are rid of the entire matter. They are calling on you to do this, Harry." Percy's posture was still statued, but his voice was softer.
"No."
"Harry. We will discuss this calmly," Albus said.
Potter ignored him. "Tell the Ministry that they have their own executioner, and it's not me! I am through!"
"Potter, shut up and sit down." Snape moved away from Seamus. "Stop acting as if you ended the entire war just by knocking the Dark Lord unconscious."
"You stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you."
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Fine. You've said no, you're free to leave. The rest of us will work out what's to be done instead."
"Severus."
Snape held a hand towards Lupin to shut him up.
Sure enough, Potter glared but fell momentarily silent. "I'm not doing it," he said a moment later, chin sticking out.
"It's not your choice," Snape answered, facing the boy. "It's Prophecy."
"You don't believe in Prophecies." Potter faced him. His fury and hatred was prevelant, but there was something in his expression. A plea. "You told me that in sixth year. You said everyone was mental for trusting me with this."
Snape smirked. "I don't believe in the Prophecy Trelawney made. I don't believe in the load of nonsense diviners come up with. I do believe in the stupidity and cowardice of human nature. Self-fulfilling prophecies are very real, and congratulations: you're stuck in one. No one else is going to kill him, because they believe you are the only one who can. So you are the only one who can."
Harry shook his head. "Than you do it. Dumbledore do it. Someone else can bloody well do it, because I'm not going to."
"Yes, you are."
"No!"
"Yes. Because whether it's bollucks or whether it's self-fulfilling, you want it to end as much as I do." Snape folded his arms over his chest. "You aren't content with him alive and in the hands of those incompetents at the Ministry. You have no choice, Potter, because you're foolish and stubborn."
"To hell with you, coward. You have no right..." Potter was almost incoherent. "You're the one who ran."
"Is that why you're running now? You want to follow in my footsteps. How touching." Snape's voice was his most poisonous.
Sure enough Potter blanched and fell silent. His face was white, his fists clenched so hard he looked to be close to hurting himself.
"That's enough." Albus spoke, calm but firm. "Percy, kindly return to the Minister and tell him a decision will be made by the morning. Everyone, you're excused. Harry, please remain and share a few words with me. "
Snape turned on his heel and marched to the door, content that he had won this argument.
The key, really, was knowing what would hurt your opponent most. In Potter's case, it was any implication that he had something in common with someone he hated. The noble arrogance in him couldn't stand it.