Snape opened the door with a smirk.

Seamus didn't even bother looking sheepish. He moved into the room. "He's going to do it."

"Of course he is."

"Severus. This isn't easy for him, I think."

Snape shrugged and moved back to the books he was sorting. "Potter's comfort has never been a concern of mine."

There was a pause, and then a wry statement. "We're invited to dinner tomorrow night."

Snape turned back to him. "What?"

"Ron asked me before I left. Said they wanted a chance to catch up."

"Don't say i we /i , boy. Not when you know full well that I am not included in the offer."

"You're invited because I am. I told that to Ron. He said alright."

"I'm impressed. They must be more curious aboutus than I predicted if it outweighs their hatred of me."

"They don't..." Seamus hesitated.

Snape smirked and went back to his shelving.

"Right. Should I expect to be on my own then?"

"When is Potter going to fulfill his prophecy?"

"Tomorrow. He wants it done fast."

"Good."

"Severus, I asked you-"

"Don't ask again. Not when you already know the answer."

A sigh. "Alright. I'll bring you something back."

"The house elves will be more than content to prepare me a meal."

Footsteps. Warm breath on his neck and hands sliding around his waist to join at his stomach. "Severus."

"What?" Snape felt inexplicably irritated.

"I love you."

He snorted. "You need me."

"Yes. I do. But those two things have nothing to do with each other."

"You're a foolish child."

"But for some reason you love me as well."

Snape laughed.

Insistent hands clutched at him, and Seamus moved until he stood at Snape's front with hands resting on the small of his back.

"I have work to do." Snape met his eyes, Ireland-green and innocent. He sighed.

Seamus chuckled. "You're lucky I have no need for romance."

Snape smiled, begrudging but sincere. "You should realize, if you haven't yet. These people are glad to see you. They don't feel that way towards me. The best of them resent me, the worst despise. I'll not be your date to any dinner parties, and I predict more than one concerted effort to free you from my evil sway." His voice pitched low, speaking of a more sincere fear that he cared to admit.

Seamus, as uncomplicated as ever, laughed. "They're not stupid, though. They'll give up quickly."

Snape wasn't so sure, but he didn't argue.

"They're just surprised, Severus. And they have a lot on their minds. They don't know what to make of either of us."

"Mm. And if they should try, as they no doubt will tomorrow night?"

Seamus cocked his head. "Try? What, to rescue me from you?"

Snape looked at him.

He wasn't sure why he asked. He had never been one to need reassurances. Even had he need of them, he wouldn't outright ask for one. That would have been an admission that he was uncertain, vulnerable, and that the answer would have some sway over him.

It was hard enough admitting that to himself.

When Seamus had come into his life it had been the way every student did - he had crept into the dungeon classroom, anxious and full of rumour about the dread Potions Master. Seamus hadn't been a particularly good student, and - worse yet - he had been a Gryffindor. One of Harry Potter's little clan.

Snape heard of his death and the execution of his family with the rest of the staff during a meeting before the start of term, and it had barely registered. Part of him felt sympathy for Minerva, who was a decent woman and took hurts personally. Still, he had hardly felt the boy's absense. There was too much else to be worried about.

How, then, had it come to this? To arms wrapped around him and a person sharing his space. Snape's near admission of weakness, and the certainty Snape had for the first time in the course of his dealings with other people that somehow Seamus understood.

Seamus didn't laugh at the question, the weakness. He didn't dismiss it. He also didn't show even a moment of surprise at being asked. He just met Snape's eyes and tightened his grasp.

"Since I doubt very much they will understand, at least this early, I will simply tell them that we are what we are, and they have to respect it."

Snape wanted to laugh at how easy Seamus believed it would all be. But he didn't.

"Harry?"

Harry shifted on the bed. "You never bloody listen."

"No, we don't." That was Hermione. They were both there. Lovely.

He reached out a hand and parted the curtain drawn around the bed. "Bugger off."

Ron flashed a crooked smile. "Sorry, but you'll have to try harder than that."

Hermione moved to the bed, tugging the curtain open and sitting down on the mattress. "Harry. I don't understand, honestly."

Harry sat back with a sigh. His legs curled up to give them more room, and he hugged his knees to his chest.

"You're acting as if this is the first time it's ever been suggested that you kill him. But you knew when you heard the Prophecy."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to do it, what difference does it make?"

"I hate to see you upset." Hermione reached out and touched his leg.

"As much as we should be used to it by now," Ron added.

Hermione turned sharp eyes to her fiance. "Ron! It's not the time for jokes."

Ron frowned and shrugged, sitting down on the bed next to Harry's.

"Listen. It's not as if there's anything innocent in him. Snape is right, as much as it pains me to admit it. While he's alive this just won't ever be over. There would always be a fear that he would escape."

Harry frowned. "I know that."

"So what's wrong? Tell us."

"What's wrong is that he was supposed to die in that house." Harry sat up, folding his legs under him, looking from Hermione to Ron. "He was supposed to have his wand out, trying to kill me or someone else, when I killed him."

"You know he would try to kill even now if he could."

"That's not the point." Harry shook his head, frustrated. "I don't want to bloody talk about this, alright?"

"Listen, mate, tomorrow's going to-"

"Ron." Hermione drew in a breath and patted Harry's leg. "Maybe we should just leave him alone. I think Harry just needs some time to think."

Ron stood, but he hung behind as she left the room.

Harry felt his gaze and raised his eyebrows.

"Listen. You're not an executioner. You won't be different tomorrow. You're still you, Harry, and if You Know Who couldn't change that than the Ministry sure won't."

Harry flinched, surprised Ron had hit the matter so closely.

Ron shrugged and backed out. "See you tomorrow." He went and followed Hermione, shutting the door behind him.

Harry looked out at the round dorm, the five beds. How many children had slept in this room, scared and dreading the future? How many of them had lost parents or siblings to Voldemort? How many were dead themselves now, cut down for no good reason?

Why should he feel even remotely guilty at the idea of walking in to a cell where a body lay unconscious and ending a life? Unconscious or not, helpless or not, it was Voldemort.

He sighed deeply and stared out at the stone wall.

If nothing else, tomorrow it would all be over.