AN I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS STORY WAS LISTED WRONG! It comes up "Harry P" and "Severus S" on my end, and has since I posted it. If it is still being listed under Tonks, it is no fault of mine. I would say it is a problem on the site's end.

Chapter 2: Happy?

One Year Later

Harry laid his head flat on his desk. The thought had occurred to him that if he hit his head hard enough, he could knock himself out. With any luck, he'd stay out cold until the next few days past. So it had been a year? Did everyone have to make such a big deal about it? He sighed deeply. Yes, he supposed they did. He knew what Voldemort's defeat had meant to the wizarding world, but that didn't change the fact that if he heard one more person thank him he would go stark raving mad.

A knock at the door interrupted Harry's head-to-desk planning. He put his glasses back on, and looked at the witch in the doorway. She was quite tall, and slender with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had the "Barbie Doll" look, as muggles would put it, but she was actually very sincere. "Are you feeling alright?" Isabelle asked setting a thick file folder down.

"Fine," he replied straightening himself up. Isabelle had a habit of playing den mother to all her coworkers. After six months at the ministry, Harry had learned to lie through his teeth where she was concerned. "What do you have for me?"

"Nothing all that special. There have been a few disturbances, but nothing too outrageous," she told him. Isabelle tapped her long nails on his desk. "Any plans for tomorrow?"

He shrugged. There was no way he was going to answer that one. The less people fussed over him, the happier he would be.

"Everyone in the ministry seems to think that you're going to meet with the Minister of Magic." She was trying to pry more out of him, and doing a poor job of it.

Harry really did hate these kinds of conversations. "Actually, Belle, I have a bit of a headache. I think I'm going to head home for the day."

If his abruptness hurt the witch, she didn't show it. "Alright then," she said with a smile. "I will plan on seeing you tomorrow."

"Errr, tomorrow. Yes," he lied. Picking up his cane, Harry limped as fast as his legs would carry him to the door, and disapperated.

Safe inside Godric's Hollow, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. No one knew what he had planned for the following day, and he was glad to keep it that way. He was going to have to be sneaky about it as it was. The wards on Godric's Hollow were still amazingly stiff. Virtually no one could get in or out without Harry's knowledge. His privacy thus far had been kept, but he was not taking chances.

He went into his bedroom—which had been magically relocated to the first floor—and changed into comfortable muggle clothes. Maybe it was growing up in a non-magic household, but Harry still found muggle clothing to feel and look better on him. He'd take a sweatshirt and jeans over robes any day. That settled, he began packing.

Harry was completely aware of what kind of stir he was going to cause, but at the current point and time, he was having trouble summoning up the effort to care. They wanted him to meet with Minister and have his picture taken. They all wanted to see him play the roll of hero with grace, but he just couldn't do it. Not when, in his mind, there were wizards and witches who deserved credit being ignored. True, he had cast the spell to end the reign of Lord Voldemort, but he had not fought the war alone as so many publications seemed to insinuate. Were they really completely ignorant of everything the Order had done? How could they forget the Weasleys, and Longbottoms? Did Remus' status as a werewolf overpower his status as a hero? No, Harry couldn't take it. He absolutely refused to play into this kind of sham, and that was why he was leaving.

With his bags packed and the arrangements made, Harry would slip anonymously into the muggle world until all of this anniversary business was over with. He snorted at the thought that he'd be missed at work. They had him set up at a meaningless little desk job just so he could be listed as a "ministry official." All he ever did was look over files and determine if Aurors should be sent in. Anyone who knew how the system worked realized what kind of rubbish this was. If Aurors were needed, they were sent. What he was really doing was giving the ministry a friendly out. If Mr. So-and-so in Sussex forgot to put on his glasses and mistook an old tree blowing in the wind for a dementor, he would politely tell him that the Aurors were investigating other cases. Because the bad news came for none other that Harry Potter, people were much more willing to let things slide. He doubted the ministry would crumble at the foundations if he was absent for a few days. In fact, he was contemplating not returning at all.

Next, Harry did something he never thought he would do; he put the knowledge he had gained in potions class to good use. He had brewed a batch of an aging serum earlier the day before. By his estimation, the potion looked as it should, and smelled…well, he wasn't exactly sure how it should smell. "Here it goes," Harry mutterd to himself before draining the bottle. YUCK! It was one of the most foul tasting things he could ever remember drinking, and he had ingested more than his fair share of potions in the infirmary.

He felt odd. Somewhat tingly. Looking at his hands, he saw the skin there begin to whither, and the bones became more pronounced. He walked up to the mirror to see if he had gotten it right. Indeed, he had. His hair was now a snowy white, and thinner than before. His face was almost unrecognizable. The transformation from nineteen year old Harry Potter to an unknown ninety year old man went smoothly. He smiled at his reflection. "Ha, let's see them try and stop me."

Harry decided to test his appearance. Throwing on a clean set of robes, Harry took a deep breath and walked out his front door. To his delight, no one noticed him as he made his way through the wizarding side of London. In the end, he couldn't resist the temptation that The Leaky Cauldron presented.

No one looked up at him as he entered the tavern. There were a few groups of wizards sitting around, but none that looked particularly sprightly. Harry had to hold back his smile as he sat down at the bar unharrassed for the first time since he had come to the wizarding world. The bartender didn't seem to notice Harry at all until he cleared his throat. Harry ordered a drink, and let his eyes roam the barroom. He hadn't been there very long when a very familiar form walked through the door.

An emotion Harry couldn't name stirred in his stomach. Was it hate? Anger? Resentment? All of those were present, but what took Harry off guard was the slight appearance of pity. The year had not been kind to Severus. His black robes were in need of mending. Slight traces of silver were beginning to show at the potions master's temples. His eyes were surrounded by new lines, and underscored by dark circles. Snape had the look of a man who had barricaded himself in a room with no light or food. This was not the formidable man Harry remembered.

The entire feeling of The Leaky Cauldron shifted. Everyone seemed to be looking at this man with a deep seeded hatred. They had not forgotten that he had killed Albus Dumbledore, and neither had Harry. How could he? Harry had been there through it all. But his memories of the event had been changed by what he now knew. He would never forget the day that Harry realized that Dumbledore had been pleading for Snape to take his life, not spare it. Yet that did not change his bitter feelings for the man. He may pity Snape, but in the end, he was no better than the rest of the bar patrons. He could not forgive.

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Severus swore under his breath as he entered The Leaky Cauldron. He despised the way every eye was locked on him the moment he walked through the door. If it wasn't necessary, he would never have left the sanctuary of his home, but he had a very specific purpose for coming here today. Spotting Richard in a secluded table in the back, Snape ignored the stares that followed him.

Richard Briden was a former housemate of Snapes, though he had avoided becoming a Deatheater. He had been one of the few people who were willing to deal with Severus after the war. In typical Slytherin fashion, he bought potions from Snape at ridiculously low price because he knew Severus was in no position to argue. Briden provided the majority of the supplies, Snape did the work, and Briden advertised the finest potions in England as his own. It was an utterly detestable set up, but it served its purpose.

"What do you want this time?" Severus asked emotionlessly skipping the pleasantries.

Briden didn't seem to care about Snapes lack of manners. He pulled out a shrunken package and a list. "It's all there. And when are you going to have those experimental potions for me?"

It took all of Severus' discipline not to throttle the man. True, he allowed Briden to claim Severus' work as his own, yet it did not mean that he enjoyed it. "Soon," Snape hissed.

Suddenly, a strange feeling washed over Severus. As a spy, he had developed a keen sense of when he was being watched. He cast a steady glance around the room, and noticed an old man gazing at him intently. There was something very familiar about the man, something that Severus couldn't place for the life of him. He frowned, and turned back to Briden. "Is that all?"

Briden nodded slightly. "Hurry up with this batch. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Severus stayed even after Briden had left the tavern. The old man sat at the bar quietly, and stole quick looks over at him. Biding his time, Snape took a sip of his drink. He wasn't about to do anything rash or stupid. Something told him the old man had a more reason to stare at him than any of the other gawking patrons. Finally, the old man picked up his cane and made his way over. Severus noticed the bright green eyes, and the slightest hint of a scar peeking out from under the man's white hair.

A sneer came to Severus' lips. "What do you want, Potter?" he asked ever so quietly.

The "old" man's eyes widened. "I have a proposition for you, Snape."