A/N: This was impressively difficult to write, I shouldn't have complained so much about the Quidditch. There's going to be another jump (probably) after this chapter and I'll start working our Light/Dark conflict in. (yay, we actually have a plot!)

That evening, Draco Malfoy was persuaded to join James and the rest of the Quidditch team for a rowdy celebration at the Gryffindor table during the feast. The students, though some were a bit disappointed to have lost, seemed equally enthusiastic. To James, it was almost like being a student again, although he knew that he wouldn't be invited to attend the inevitable party that the Gryffindors would be hosting in their common room. Up at the staff table, Madam Hooch was accepting defeat slightly less graciously. To put it plainly, she was sulking. Not only had her team, the one she'd been boasting about for weeks, lost by a huge amount, but she had also lost a large amount of money betting on them. In fact, the only ones looking pleased were Severus, who had apparently won in the region of fifty galleons, and Minerva, despite having won a smaller amount, was revelling in the praise of some of her star students.

Actually, James was sure that the headmaster was cheating a little with this feast. Although the Great Hall seated the entire school at once, there certainly was not normally room for an extra two hundred or so visitors - that was simple mathematics! He'd probably used a similar set of charms to the ones Arthur Weasley had used on his car, ones to expand the space within without changing the outside volume. After all, it could have disastrous effects if the Great Hall suddenly grew - the Transfiguration classrooms would be completely wiped out.

After another noisy rendition of the school song when they were all sitting back in their seats feeling stuffed to the brim, Aberforth signalled to James that it was time to leave. Excusing himself graciously - not that that was hard given the slightly drunken state of his team mates - James slipped out of the side door and down to Abe's quarters.

The older man arrived a moment later, giving the password and showing James in. Then he turned to look at his pupil.

"You know I'm going home this evening?"

"I thought you were at least staying until tomorrow," James protested. "You've got a room and everything, and its not like they'll need you back at the University."

"Actually it's Claudius. He seems to be getting a bit homesick if you ask me, you know how close he is to me, and I'm afraid he's a bit lonely out there on his own at night. He might even be afraid of the dark! It might be detrimental to his health and I've grown rather attached to him over the years. I wouldn't want him to suffer any longer than he has to."

James sighed, knowing that the grouchy old goat would always come first.

"I understand, I guess, it's just . . . "

"You're stuck here and no one quite understands your situation?"

"Exactly. Its not that I don't enjoy teaching - I do, but its hard not to tell them sometimes. I feel bad about not trusting them and. . . ."

"And?"

"And I wonder how much they're going to hate me when they do find out."

The older man paused for a moment, putting a comforting hand on James' shoulder. He seemed to be considering what it would be best to say.

"How many people would you say really cared about you when you were younger, not for the 'Boy Who Lived' but Harry?"

"Well, Ron and Hermione of course."

"And Hermione already knows and doesn't seem to hate you, quite the opposite in fact."

"Ron can be a bloody idiot when he gets irritated though."

"James . . . Harry, he's not sixteen any more. He's also married, and I suspect young Hermione keeps a fairly close eye on problems of that kind. Certainly he might be a bit angry to start off with, I think most people would be, but after a while he'll forgive you and you will continue with your lives again."

"And Draco?"

"He was an obnoxious little snot when he was a kid," Abe said, smiling slightly at the memory, "and those are his words, not mine. He grew up, James, and I know that he came to respect you as both Harry and James. He would never have named his son after you if he hadn't, despite whatever he says, and he certainly would never have named you godfather. Trust me on this one, Draco will accept you easily."

"Then there's Albus."

"Trust me, he won't give you problems," Aberforth said, completely the stern older brother. "Besides, even if he hasn't mentioned it, I find it hard to believe that he hasn't any idea of your past. If he's really in the dark, I will be terribly disappointed in him."

"And then there's the rest of the staff. Oh, not Trelawney, but most of the others. I feel bad about lying to them."

"Consider how Professor McGonagall treats her ex-pupils, even the ones who've lost their way slightly. She's not a young woman, James, and she knew you well. I'm sure that, as your Head of House, she was quite aware of your opinion of your life, and would understand your decision."

"But what about Severus?" James all but moaned, sitting down heavily on an armchair. "He bloody hated me when I was a kid!"

"Didn't you hate him back?"

"Well, yes, but he started it!"

"And you were both acting like five year olds, hopefully now the two of you have grown up enough to see past it. Look, think about it, why didn't he like you?"

"He hated my dad and godfather . . ."

"Albus said that grudge detached itself from you by the end of your second year."

"Okay, I was famous and he thought I liked it."

"And now he knows that you didn't."

"And he thought I was a trouble maker."

"You weren't?"

"Well, yes, but not in the way he meant. I never started the fights with Draco and it wasn't my fault Hermione got stuck with a mountain troll without any teachers nearby or that . . ."

"James, enough. I know for a fact that he received at least as many punishments as you did, though perhaps for different reasons. He was more involved with prank wars against the Gryffindors of the time."

"Oh yeah, and I was a Gryffindor."

"James, can you honestly say that you didn't look on Slytherins as the embodiment of evil when you were eleven. He was just defending his students, as he was perfectly right to do. Besides, from the rumours I've heard from the other members of staff, you've disabused him of that notion quite thoroughly. What was it you said, that if it took being a Parseltongue to be a Slytherin, he didn't qualify either? Very clever, very Slytherin of you, my dear boy. That will have completely put him off the trail. I'd stop worrying about it, if I were you. There is very little about your younger self that he can justify hating you for, if he does, you can remind him of his less than exemplary record."

"But I . . . he . . ."

"Ah. I wondered why you singled him out. You do know that if you ever want to ask me for advice about your love life, you can come to me any time. I'm a very wise and accepting individual."

"You . . . " James spluttered.

"You know, dear child, it is far easier to understand you when you speak slowly and think before opening your mouth, hm? Now, what exactly is the problem?"

"You expect me to tell you?" James asked incredulously.

"Of course."

"Oh fine, I'm trusting you with my other secrets, I might as well with this one. I know he's gay, which is something, I guess, but I haven't ever seen him with another guy and I don't even know if I'm his type."

"Is that a problem?"

"Only in that I'll embarrass myself if it turns out I'm not."

"Ah, just a minor one then. So what you're actually hoping for is advice on how to ah get together with him?"

"I guess, yes."

"Start by continuing as you have been, make friends with him. There's no point in entering a relationship if you don't genuinely like your partner. Give him time to get used to that. Have you thought about your costume for the ball?"

"Ball?"

"The Hogmany Ball that Albus is so keen on. I believe both you and Severus were among his choices for chaperones."

"Unfortunately."

"So, are you doing your usual?"

"Its not like I have any other costume, is it?"

"James, your costume is extremely flattering, it shows of your body excellently and it's very little effort for you. Now, I take it Severus is as enthusiastic about this as he usually is? Why don't you suggest that he use the Weasleys' latest range of sweets to change his appearance before he puts a costume on so that he can attend without having to live up to his reputation. I'm sure you could come up with a costume for him. Now, if you offered the use of one of your friends' names, say Bertram Highcastle, and went with him. After the illusions are taken down at the end of the evening, it will appear that you went with young Bertram and since everyone knows where the boy's inclinations run, he'd almost have to . . . ah . . . snog you, is it?"

"You really think that will work?"

"My dear boy, Severus has worked very hard to make himself feared, he needs to if he is to be effective in keeping order in a potions laboratory, it is, after all, very dangerous if mistakes are made. If you were living like that, wouldn't you appreciate some time to relax without that restraint?"

"I suppose so. Thanks."

"Feel better."

"Yes, actually," he said, surprised. "I'll say goodbye then. Give your students hell, and send Claudius my greetings."

"I will, Jamie-boy, now you go and get a good night's sleep, you're up late already and you have classes tomorrow."

James laughed, turning to smile at his mentor as he stepped back through the portrait hole back into the dungeon corridor. It was chillier outside of the suite and he shivered slightly. He hit something solid just as the portrait closed behind him. Not sure he wanted to find out what he'd walked into, James turned around slowly. He was facing a black-clad chest, a rather well defined one too. Agonisingly slowly, he raised his head to look Severus Snape in the eye. Cursing mentally, his brain reminded him of the fascinating discussion he'd just been having and he flushed scarlet.

"Well, James, had a bit too much to drink? I'll have a hangover potion for you in the morning."

"I'm not drunk," James protested. "I just wasn't looking where I was going."

"I had noticed that, somehow. Do you need assistance returning to your rooms?"

James' brain was mentally shouting yes.

"No thank you, Severus, I can manage perfectly well on my own. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night. That was . . . a most impressive piece of flying earlier by anyone's standards. Congratulations."

"I . . . uh. . . . thank you. You've been most successful too, judging by the rumours."

"I did have some good fortune, Rolanda's luck had to run out some day. Besides, it's in my favour if you are so competent at Quidditch since you have already agreed to coach the house team. I would like to have the Quidditch Cup in my study again."

"A Slytherin through and through. Minerva tells me you're not bad yourself."

"She flatters me," Severus said, brushing off the compliment. "Its undeniably a Gryffindor trait to believe others better than they actually are. Now, drunk or not, I believe you should be in bed. We do have classes in the morning, after all."