A/N: I know, I've kept you all waiting forever, but at last it is here: your update! Many apologies for the long interval, dear readers, but I've had quite a rough few months myself—law school was determined to make me miserable for every last second. But now, at last, it is done! I finished my last exam last week, and will be graduating this coming Sunday, May 22nd, with that coveted J.D. I never thought I'd make it! Thank you all for your patience and reviews, and please keep them coming! Mum will be arriving to watch me walk in Commencement this weekend, and we will have the better part of the summer together!

Small Edit: I originally flubbed the canon regarding the curse on the Defense teaching position, but I've fixed it. Thanks to those who pointed it out.

Special Note: I have included a little tribute to my beloved Georgetown Gilbert & Sullivan Society in this chapter, in honor of my last show with them. Can anyone find it? And I have a double update for your reading pleasure: International Magical Co-operation is also updated today! So without further ado, here it is…

Chapter Twelve: Shadow

"Severus? Severus, do you hear me?"

A sense of great urgency seized him almost as soon as he awoke, but his body refused to return to alertness quickly. Despite repeated attempts, Severus could not manage speech; all that escaped his mouth was a groan. But there was something he had to know—what it was, he could not quite recall—but his return to conscious thought was bringing with it the knowledge that something was left undone, something he had to learn of…

"Severus?" It was Minerva. "Are you awake?"

His eyelids felt leaden, but he finally forced them open. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was at his bedside, bending over him. He blinked, and she smiled. "Welcome back."

That she was warm to him seemed a good sign, but there was one thing he had to know before all else. "Harry…"

"What? I can't hear you, Severus."

He took a deep breath. His chest ached. "Harry…safe?"

"Harry…" she frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh, yes. Yes, he is safe. He's still asleep."

She did not sound worried, to his relief. He closed his eyes for several moments, and when he looked again, his vision was clearer. "It's over, Minerva," he sighed. "Completely over."

Minerva smiled and patted his hand. "I always believed you would be with us in the end."

He grimaced inwardly. "I regret that I was not with you to the end."

Minerva watched her old friend drift off again, and smiled thoughtfully. "Harry."

"How much longer do you think he'll sleep?" Hermione mused, putting her arms around Ron from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Dunno," Ron replied. "Hasn't stirred." He glanced over at the bed across the wing. "I guess Snape's all right."

"He actually sounded worried about Harry," said Fred.

Ron shot the twins a skeptical look. "Probably because he knows it's his head if Harry didn't make it."

"He saved Harry's life Ron," Ginny said.

"So I won't ask for his head," Ron said stubbornly. "Doesn't mean I have to like him."

The object of their discussion had been awake on and off over the past forty-eight hours, long enough for Madam Pomfrey to make him eat and give him Healing Draughts. That was more than could be said for Harry, who was practically comatose, but the mediwitch said his vitals were stable, and this was to be expected after a ritual as taxing as an exorcism. So Harry's friends were content to wait for him to recover. They stayed in the hospital wing all day and took turns sitting by his bedside at night, in case he woke up or had bad dreams. So far, neither had happened; Harry simply slept.

Late that evening, Ron was sitting in a Transfigured armchair beside his friend, half-dozing, when someone brushed past and bent over Harry. He drowsily glanced up, then sat up sharply when he realized it was Snape. Madam Pomfrey was there as well, watching, which forestalled Ron from challenging the former professor, but he still didn't like the idea of Snape touching Harry.

Harry moved slightly when Snape put a hand on his forehead, then the man turned to Pomfrey. "He is feverish," he said accusingly.

Ron jumped to his feet in alarm, glared at them both, then felt Harry's face to see for himself. Snape was right: Harry was warm.

Madam Pomfrey calmly passed both of them and examined Harry herself. "It's not dangerously high. His body and his magic are reorienting themselves to the absence of the Horcrux as well as recovering from the exorcism. The fever will break as his strength returns."

Ron frowned, not certain whether to accept that. To his surprise, Snape looked doubtful as well, but Madam Pomfrey didn't seem worried. When she departed, he and Snape were left standing there in uncomfortable silence. Snape looked at him as if wondering what he was doing there, so he sat back in the chair, daring Snape to question him. Snape cast another long look at Harry, then slowly walked away.

Harry woke for the first time the next day.

Severus was still in the hospital wing and occasionally went to check on him, but Ronald Weasley kept a near-constant vigil at Harry's bedside and glared fiercely anytime Snape came in their direction. However, the boy was so distracted with excitement once Harry's eyelids started to flutter that he didn't notice Severus coming up behind Madam Pomfrey to see what was happening.

"Ronald, step aside and let her work!" exclaimed the Headmistress when Weasley seemed reluctant to relinquish his position at Harry's side. He finally made way for Poppy, but continued making a pest of himself by leaning over her shoulder.

"Harry, dear, can you hear me?" Poppy called.

Ginevra Weasley sidled up next to Severus, but her eyes were on the boy. Regaining consciousness seemed a near-impossible feat at the moment; Harry moved only slightly. Someone was breathing raggedly near the foot of the bed, and Severus glanced back to see that it was Lupin. The Weasley girl noticed, and suggested, "Let Remus try."

"It can't hurt," Poppy said with a shrug, and beckoned Lupin forward.

The werewolf seemed to be having a hard time controlling his emotions. "Harry? Time to wake up," he whispered. A faint groan was his only response, but then Harry's eyes opened, bleary and unfocused. Lupin's breath caught. "Hey, lad. How're you feeling?"

Harry turned his pale face toward Lupin, barely moving his head, then drew a weak breath. No real sound came out when his lips moved, but they all knew what he said: "Remus?"

Sniffling, Lupin stroked his hair. "I'm here, Harry." The boy turned his head slightly toward the werewolf's touch with a contented sigh. "Good to have you back."

Green eyes drifted closed, but then opened again, and Severus was startled to find himself meeting Harry's weary gaze. He ought to say something, he thought, some courtesy or inquiry into how the boy was feeling…but nothing would come out. Potter was also silent, so either he was too groggy to speak or he couldn't come up with anything to say either. What was there to be said after what they had experienced?

Assuming Harry even remembered it at the moment, for he was rapidly drifting off again. Poppy gave Lupin a Healing Draught to feed to the boy, and he was out only moments after finishing it. "I think that's all we're going to get out of him at the moment."

"He's still warm," said Lupin, frowning.

"The fever hasn't gone up. He should show a steady improvement."

They had to be satisfied with that. Ron Weasley resumed his seat by the bedside (and also resumed his warning glare at Severus.) "Ronald!" hissed Granger, but with a snort, Severus walked away.

To his surprise, Lupin came after him. "Don't mind Ron, Severus. He's been frantic."

Looking back at the werewolf in disgust, Severus replied, "I have never minded that boy before, and I have no intention of doing so now." Lupin just smiled indulgently, and Severus snorted again. That man always believed he was doing Snape some kind of favor. And since when did the worries of Ronald Weasley hold any concern for Severus at all?

However, very late that night, he wondered if perhaps he should rethink his views of the youngest Weasley son.

Harry's fever hadn't broken, but he did seem somewhat stronger. Severus too was feeling much more himself, and he was sitting in his bed, reading a Potions journal, when faint sounds reached him from across the wing. He rose and saw Weasley sitting up as well, looking at Harry. The boy had begun tossing and whimpering in his sleep.

As Snape watched, Weasley shook him awake, but it startled them both when Harry burst back into consciousness and began babbling in panic about Voldemort and Dumbledore or whatever it was that plagued his dreams. Severus rose and started toward them, but Weasley grabbed his friend in a bear hug and forced his flailing limbs under control.

"HEY! You're in the hospital wing! Take it easy, mate!"

Despite Harry's hysteria, Ron was stronger and held the smaller boy until sense returned to him. Harry shuddered violently when Ron let him go and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be stupid; you've got nothing to be sorry for," Ron replied.

Harry closed his eyes. "'cept for being completely barking mad?" At Ron's startled expression, he said plaintively, "Well, I am, aren't I?"

Ron seized Harry's wrists and retorted, "No, you're not mad, possessed, or anything else. You just won a ruddy war!" Harry blinked rapidly and looked away, but Ron jerked at his arms until he met his friend's eyes again. "We're not letting you give up now."

With a pinched expression, Harry whispered, "I'm trying, I just…I feel like I'm getting ripped apart. From the inside, like I'm…out of control."

Ron hesitated for a moment, then threw his arms around Harry again, to Snape's surprise. "It's gonna get better," he said fiercely. Harry faltered, but then returned Ron's embrace. "I've got you, mate. You'll be okay. It's all over."

Harry sighed, calmer now, and Ron let him go. "Is it really?" he murmured.

"Course, it is!"

"That's what I thought when he died," Harry remarked bitterly. "It never ends."

"It has this time," Ron told him firmly. "I promise, mate."

Harry laughed shakily at that, and Ron put an arm around him again. "Promise?"

"Right. Promise. If anyone says different, I'll kick his arse."

That made Harry laugh more easily, and twenty minutes later, he was asleep again. Ron was balanced rather precariously on the edge of the bed with his friend's weight on his shoulder, and when he noticed Severus watching them, he glared. That was his usual reaction to Snape's offensive presence anywhere near Harry, but for once, Severus found that it did not rankle as it usually did.

Harry's fever broke the next day, and his recovery was finally clear to even the most fretful of his friends. However, his sleep was still interrupted by too-frequent nightmares.

In that at least, Severus could relate, for he too found his dreams returning often to the lightning-struck Tower—both the physical and its psychological counterpart. He had said little to the Order about the form the exorcism had taken, and their frustration had been obvious when Harry had not been any more forthcoming. Of course, none of them were willing to press the boy about it yet, but as far as most of them were concerned, Snape's silence on the subject was grounds for suspicion. Not a one of them had changed their opinion of him since the Horcrux's destruction.

And yet, as before, that did not leave him without allies.

A few nights later, Ginevra Weasley was keeping vigil at Harry's bedside when the boy began tossing in his sleep again. Severus watched her soothe him with whispers and caresses, but although Harry calmed, he decided to look for himself.

Ginevra saw him coming, but made no protest; she just watched inscrutably without a word as he lifted the boy's wrist to check his pulse and temperature. He did not volunteer his thoughts on Harry's condition, and she did not ask, but her eyes remained on him even after he walked away, and he felt as though some understanding had passed between them.

The first few days after the exorcism were never very clear in Harry's memory. Even though he was asleep through most of it, his dreams had been a confused mass of recollections, fears, and imaginings. It was hard to determine what had been real and what hadn't. Ginny and Hermione fussing over him…that was probably real, Remus and Mrs. Weasley too, Ron hugging him…maybe. But he also thought he remembered Snape bending over him or sitting beside him, or, sometimes, talking to him. Well, that was probably a dream.

Still, he knew what had happened during the exorcism wasn't a dream. That memory was just plain scary. He had hurt so badly…in so many ways, he didn't like to think about it. But he had to, for a reason.

Snape had been released from the hospital wing already, which made it difficult to find him. Harry still wasn't quite up to moving around much, and his friends weren't inclined to let him wander off on his own for very long—well, at all, actually. He finally enlisted the twins to get Ron, Hermione, and the others outside for a bit so he could have some peace and take the opportunity to escape for awhile.

He was walking out of the hospital wing when Snape appeared in the hall approaching it.

Snape stopped, startled, as did Harry. The former professor recovered first. "Mr. Potter. Back on your feet, I see."

Harry swallowed against his suddenly-dry throat. "Yeah, more or less. Madam Pomfrey said you weren't hurt?"

"Nothing permanent," Snape replied. Harry nodded weakly, staring at the floor, and felt Snape's eyes on him. "Perhaps you should return to the hospital wing."

Harry sighed. "I'm getting sick of that place," he muttered, but didn't feel like arguing. He let Snape walk him back to his bed.

"Where are your friends?" Snape asked as he sat down and put his feet up.

"I convinced them I didn't need a minder all the time." He heard what sounded like a chuckle and took a deep breath. "I…I haven't…thanked you. Sir. For…everything you did."

Snape was silent for a long time, and Harry finally forced himself to look at the man's face. This was the only decent thing to do. He'd known it since he woke. "I'd never have survived without you," he said quietly. "I forgot everything as soon as I saw…"

Snape glanced away. "I too forgot," he admitted. "You were not alone in that."

"You remembered sooner than I did," Harry pointed out. "I almost got us both killed."

"It was not I who…" Snape abruptly stopped, and Harry looked at him in surprise, realizing what he meant.

"I've been wondering," he said. "If I didn't known about…those things…and you didn't know, how did the exorcism? How did Riddle?"

Impatiently, Snape answered, "I have no idea. In any case, it matters little now. You should rest."

He got up to leave, but Harry blurted out, "I know you're not a coward!" Snape looked back, and he added, "Sir. I knew a long time ago." He felt himself blushing.

Snape's face was blank, his eyes unreadable, but after staring at Harry for a moment, he said, "Nor are you."

It sounded as if he didn't believe Harry meant it, so Harry muttered, "I couldn't have done it." He quickly looked down at the bedclothes. "No matter how much was at stake, I couldn't have done what he wanted."

"He would not have asked that of you," Snape told him. "He did not view you as a weapon against Voldemort."

Harry jumped up, catchig himself on the back of an abandoned chair. "He didn't view you like that!" Snape looked dubious, but he pressed, "I know that much. The night he died—the real night, I mean. He wanted me to get you after we saw the Tower."

It was obvious that Snape hadn't had any idea what had gone on before he got to the Tower that night; he seemed astonished. But when he turned away to leave again, Harry didn't try to stop him.

Severus half-wondered if Albus's portrait had been using the other portraits to spy on him until he talked to Potter. Then again, there was no real wondering about it. The late headmaster's smile was rather sad as he regarded his former pupil from a painting in the dungeon.

"So you've beaten him at last, Severus."

Without looking at him, Snape replied, "Are you going to say you told me so?"

"Of course not. You and Harry deserve nothing but praise. Both of you overcame a great deal."

Severus turned sharply toward the portrait. "You engineered it, didn't you? That final 'confession' of your sins…what did you do, plant it in one of the memories you gave to Potter?"

"Right in one, my dear Severus. You and Harry deserved to know."

"And easing your conscience had nothing to do with it," Severus retorted. "And what made you think Harry would tell me?"

"Once he knew the truth about you, he would," Albus said, with absolute confidence.

"He knew before the end of the war, and we nearly killed each other," said Severus.

"He knew the facts then, not the truth. He did not understand your choices, nor vice versa."

Severus grabbed an empty vial and threw it at the portrait, watching it shatter against the frame. "Your bloody meddling and manipulating nearly destroyed both of us!"

Albus was unfazed by his anger. "I don't deny it. I had realized by the end how much pain I had put you through—both of you—but I could think of no way to set it right that did not one last act of meddling. I implanted my message in the memories, but spelled it so that it would not come to the surface until Harry confronted the Horcrux."

"You knew he was the Horcrux!" Severus exclaimed, stunned. "You…Albus, damn it, were you trying to get the child killed?"

"Of course not," the portrait said. "I knew the dangers, I do not deny that. And I knew the pain he would go through. But I kept it from him for the same reason I made you swear to stay with him: so the two of you would have to face it together."

"Why?" Severus asked, even though he suspected he knew. "Why me and not Minerva or Lupin? Any one of the Order could have worked with him more easily than I."

"It's true they all love him," said Albus. "But Harry alone has more than enough love in him to confound Voldemort. His victory in battle was proof of that. But no other in the Order could make him see what else was needed."

"To forgive," Severus sighed.

"Not just forgive. To face down the darkness and ugliness of his emotions. That required courage, Severus—a quality no one in the Order possesses in such quantities as you. Harry would have been destroyed by that remnant but for you. One alone could not have done it."

Severus glared at him. "What made you so certain we would not destroy each other?"

"You and Harry have long misdirected your anger and blame toward each other, rather than where it rightfully belonged." Albus didn't have to say it for Severus to know who he meant. "I used both of you very ill. Unforgivably."

Turning his gaze to one of the enchanted windows, Severus muttered, "Do you expect me to disagree with you?" Albus did not answer. "It's a miracle we were able to defeat the thing at all, after what you'd done."

"By telling you the truth of the matter, I enabled you to forgive not just Harry, but yourself, Severus. That is how you defeated him."

Hot anger burst to life inside Severus, bitter resentment at the years he had spent as an instrument to the whims of this self-righteous old man. "Does that leave your conscience clear, then?" he hissed, rounding on the portrait. "The fact that we survived? Do you congratulate yourself at the genius of your master plan?"

He had never placed much stock in the idea that magic portraits could feel and think as humans did, all evidence to the contrary, but the expression on the old headmaster's face was so sorrowful that it took him aback. "I have been cruel to you, my boy, but not without remorse. Do you think I did not go to my grave bitterly aware of what my machinations would cost you, and how you and Harry would feel once you learned what I had done? I knew that even as I tried to save your lives that I would lose your love."

When Severus returned to the hospital wing to tell Harry what Albus had said, the boy was quiet for a long time. At length, he asked, "Did he send you to tell me?"

"No," Severus replied. "I thought you should know."

Harry was still convalescent, but able to move more each day. With a blanket draped over his shoulders, he went to the window and gazed out at the wintry landscape. "Did you believe what he said, in the Tower? That he did it because he loved us?"

Bluntly, Severus said, "I don't know. I no longer believe I knew him well enough to understand his decisions." Harry looked distressed by that, but he nodded.

"When he died, I thought…it felt like I'd lost someone who really cared, in a way…that no one else ever had." Severus knew well what he meant. "If anyone else had told me about the Pensieve, I'd have called them a liar."

"So would I," Severus admitted.

Harry turned and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry I looked at the memory. It wasn't my business." He sighed. "I just wanted to see my father."

The idea of saying, "I forgive you" or some other equally-conciliatory phrase went against the grain for Severus, so he simply nodded. He supposed that there were certain apologies he ought to make to the boy, but that too went against his instincts, so he said nothing of his own role in their quarrel. But if Harry noticed, he didn't remark on it.

He pondered the young man beside him, recalling the things Albus had said, and how Harry had reacted in the Tower. You never believed him capable of such action, did you?

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Harry looked at him in surprise. "Did you?"

"I knew he could be ruthless."

Harry's green eyes, large and at that moment, sad, suddenly seemed to go right through him. "I guess you would. He used you."

"That was the norm. I expected to be used for the sake of the Order," he said, not wanting the boy's pity.

Or perhaps it wasn't pity. Harry looked defensive. "I didn't mean whether it was bad or not. Just that he did."

Severus nodded acknowledgment, and an uncomfortable silence descended. He finally asked the boy, "What do you mean to do now? Once you're recovered, that is."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I was going to ask you the same, actually."

"That depends on you, if you will recall."

"What? Oh, you mean the—don't be stupid!"

The assumption on Harry's part surprised Severus, and he pointed out, "My debt to you and Albus has not been discharged by these events, Potter."

"Yes, it HAS!"

Harry sounded so distressed by this development that Severus hastened to mollify him. "I have no resentment on that score."

The boy blinked. "What?"

"I explained the terms of my amnesty to you after the battle with Voldemort; you may not remember. My service to Dumbledore, and at his orders, to you, will never end."

Shaking his head, Harry protested, "I do remember, but you've saved my life more times than I can…it's not fair. You're not a slave."

"No, I am merely bound to my word. It is my decision, not yours."

"And now you want me to decide for you!" Harry accused.

"You need not, decide for yourself," Severus replied, refraining from reaction to the boy's indignation. "With your penchant for getting into trouble, I've no doubt I can come up with means of assisting you."

The thought did not seem to be even half-tempting Harry. Rather, he looked ill at the idea. You are a strange child, to be so repulsed by unfettered power. But Harry wouldn't look at him. So he finally left the boy alone with his thoughts, wondering idly whether Albus had known that Harry would see Snape's bond to him as nothing but a burden. Perhaps not. I begin to think Albus didn't understand that boy half as well as he thought he did.

A day or so later, Headmistress McGonagall gave Harry a message from the Ministry. "Minister Scrimgeour has thoughts of presenting you with a medal, if you are amenable to a public ceremony."

Harry stared at her until he realized she wasn't joking, while the rest of the Order looked on. He grappled in vain for a diplomatic way to put it, but finally gave up and blurted out, "I think I'd rather die!"

Nearly everyone burst out laughing. "That's a Galleon you owe me, Lupin," Moody crowed.

Harry tried to remain disgruntled, but failed and grinned sheepishly. He did ask Remus, "What did you think I'd say?"

"Something more diplomatic," laughed Remus. "No matter. At least it's further proof you're on the mend."

Hermione plunked herself down onto Harry's bed, further squishing him between Ron and Ginny. "So what are you going to do with yourself now that you're done fighting Voldemort in all his various incarnations?"

Harry shrugged and squirmed past his friends so he could stretch his legs. "Haven't really had a chance to think about it until now."

"I promised you some time ago that I would assist you in entering the Auror Program, Mr. Potter," said the Headmistress. "I will not hesitate to stand by that."

Everyone looked expectantly at Harry. He faltered, having not considered his old desire to become an Auror in a long time. "I…dunno, really," he mused.

Mrs. Weasley gave a dismissive wave. "There's no need to make up your mind right now. You've earned a good, long rest. Take the time you need to decide now that your life is ahead of you without interruption."

"We hope," Harry quipped, earning himself a clout from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins.

The grounds around Hogwarts were finally showing serious signs of spring thaw, but the sky was still a wintry gray, and it was cold. Probably not the ideal conditions for the still-convalescent Harry to venture out in, but when it came down to a choice between that and letting him climb the walls, his friends bundled him up and hauled him outside.

"You've been quiet lately," Ginny said as they watched Ron attacking Hermione with a slushy snowball. "What're you thinking about?"

"What McGonagall said," he told her honestly. "About my being an Auror."

He avoided her eyes, but she saw what he was thinking anyway. "You don't have to stick with that, you know. You talked to her about it a long time ago; she knows that. Lots of things have changed."

"But what else could I be?" he asked, sitting down on a convenient rock.

Ginny snorted, squelching her boots in the mud. "After everything you've done, I doubt anyone would care much if you never got a job. No, huh?" She grinned, seeing the look on his face. "No, I guess I can't see you as the idle rich either. Well, Mum was right that you don't have to decide right away. Most people don't know what they want to do until they've left Hogwarts."

"And how would you know?" he asked, but his tone was playful.

"I have six older brothers," she replied, not rising to his bait. "You could always come back to Hogwarts, you know. Finish your seventh year—oh, Mcgonagall will give you a pass if you want it, she's given Ron and just about everyone in the D.A. and the Order full credit for the year. Fighting in the war was proof enough we're fit for the real world, I suppose. But I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you decided to spend another year here as a student, give yourself a chance to be a student who isn't distracted by people trying to kill you all the time."

"McGonagall already told me she gave me a pass for seventh year," Harry said.

"Doesn't mean you have to take it. Viktor Krum stayed over a year voluntarily."

"Don't let Ron hear you say that name." They both chuckled.

Ginny sat down next to him. "In any case, don't worry about it so much. You've earned the right to take as long as you want to decide, and you'll be great at whatever you do."

Harry felt himself blushing and looked across the grounds at Ron and Hermione, who had got themselves very distracted down by the lake. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Awhile later, Harry managed to get out alone and enjoyed some time to himself outside—not that he disliked the company of his friends. He had purposely avoided the part of the grounds where the tomb was until now, but today, he found himself venturing in that direction. He didn't expect to see anyone else outside, so it gave him more than a small start to see a dark figure standing very close to the tomb.

Unsure of what to do, Harry stood there on the grounds for some time before Snape looked over and saw him. The man looked older and more worn than ever in the cold, gray daylight. He said nothing, and Harry couldn't think of anything to say either. His gaze slid from Harry back to the tomb, and Harry could guess then what he was thinking. The next thing he knew, his feet were carrying him forward. Snape didn't try to warn him off. Harry met Snape's gaze for a long moment before turning and putting a hand on the cold stone.

"Had you been here before?" he finally asked.

There was no answer, but he didn't dare look at Snape again. Thoughts raced through his head, but nothing made sense. Everything he had felt and believed when Dumbledore was buried here…it had all died in the exorcism the way he had died in the Tower. It was a toss-up deciding which had hurt the worst.

"I do not believe he intended you to suffer as you did," Snape surprised him by saying.

"Maybe not, but I wasn't the only one who 'suffered,'" Harry replied.

Now it was Snape's turn to look surprised. "I knew what I was getting into, Potter, I've told you that."

"Yeah, you knew, but nobody else did!" Harry exclaimed. "What if I hadn't ever found those memories? Nobody'd have known you were on our side!"

Shaking his head, Snape pointed out, "And you would not have cared about my fate had that been the case."

The idea that the fate of an innocent should mean nothing baffled Harry. Especially standing here next to Dumbledore's grave. The headmaster would never have wanted that to happen. Would he? The question made him feel as cold and gray as the grounds around them. "I can't believe he'd have let that happen to you."

"I was a Death Eater, Potter. Whatever I suffered in this war was not enough to pay the debt I owe."

"You didn't used to think that," Harry remarked.

"My thinking has changed about many things."

"Do you have to be so careless about everything?" Harry burst out. "You're talking about an innocent person going to prison or worse, or being a slave for the rest of your life—it's not nothing!"

To his further frustration, Snape wasn't fazed. "You're too young to understand."

"I understand I lost my godfather because nobody knew he was innocent and nobody cared," Harry said more quietly. "And a murderer went free and brought Voldemort back."

Snape looked at him at the mention of Sirius, and his eyes hardened briefly, but then he looked down at the grave again. "Injustices happen. They cannot be helped."

"I don't believe it. We should try."

Snape actually laughed. "You're an idealist, Harry. You haven't learned the futilities of life yet."

"I've spent my life dealing with Voldemort, the Ministry, the Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter," Harry retorted. "Not to mention you."

"Touché," Snape admitted, and to both of their surprise, Harry found himself grinning.

"We managed to stop the Horcrux in spite of everything; it can't be as futile as you think."

Snape shrugged. "Who am I to argue with that?"

Harry looked over the muddy hills below the castle and said carefully, "If you didn't have the debt to Dumbledore, what would you do now?"

"You're not very subtle."

"You keep talking about what I want!" Harry snapped, rounding on him. "What I want is for you to not…be this. Not to me. I don't want a…slave."

He looked back at Snape, and the two of them locked eyes for several moments. At length, Snape relented. "The peace of Agawa Bay agreed with me—your condition aside."

Harry grinned wryly. "I guessI was probably a bit of a distraction."

"How much do you remember?"

"It comes and goes. It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember doing things but not why I did them. I'm not sure what was real and what was dreams."

"I am not surprised. The destruction of the Horcrux may result in the fading of the memories that you shared with it."

"Good riddance, if you ask me," Harry said.

"And yourself? What do you intend to do here?" Harry didn't answer right away, and Snape's black eyes probed him. "Shall you pursue your Auror studies now?"

After a long silence, Harry sighed and shook his head. "You knew I wouldn't, didn't you?"

"It is not a failure on your part, Harry. You have been through a great deal."

"I know, I just…I was so determined once, to get there. The memory seems weird now, but not the way the Horcrux memories do."

"You're entitled to change your mind," Snape pointed out, and Harry caught the irony in his voice.

"Yeah…Professor McGonagall says I can stay at Hogwarts as long as I want."

"She will be able to keep the Ministry and the Daily Prophet away at least," Snape said. "You might also consider teaching, once the school reopens."

Harry blinked. That idea hadn't occurred to him. It must have showed, because Snape went on, "By all accounts, your 'students' in your defense association acquitted themselves well in the war. And Minerva will need a new Defense professor."

"I'd be dead in a year!" Harry laughed. "And you couldn't seriously be thinking of me teaching Potions."

Snape paused for a moment, then said, "The Dark Lord's curse on the Defense position is not absolute."

"What?"

"It was modified by Dumbledore," the former professor went on inscrutably. "If Minerva does not already know, you might suggest she ask his portrait." He tilted his head, regarding Harry thoughtfully. "You may well be what he had in mind, in general if not specifically."

Harry couldn't have made his desire clearer, Severus decided. He supposed it would be selfish to continue inflicting his presence on the boy when it was obviously nothing but associated with bad memories.

He wants me gone, for his peace of mind if not his conscience. It may not be quite what Albus had in mind, but it will accomplish his ends.

And to return to Agawa Bay and pursue his research in solitude was hardly an unpleasant prospect—it appealed to him, actually. Harry would be fine. Minerva, Lupin, and the Weasleys were watching the boy closely, and they would see to his recovery. Severus had assisted as far as Harry would allow. It was time to let the boy go.

Minerva did surprise him a few days later by offering him the Potions Professorship. "You were and remain the best teacher of that subject we have ever had, Severus. And we'll need all the help we can get rebuilding trust in this school."

"Trust? With me here?" Severus found that amusing.

"Don't be obtuse," she said impatiently. "Your true role in bringing Voldemort down is well-known. You are as much a hero of the war as Harry."

"And you know how I loathe that word. Thank you, Minerva, but I would prefer to stay as far from the adoring masses as possible. Not to mention that I do not think my presence here would be conducive to Harry's recovery," he pointed out.

Minerva stared. "What makes you think that?"

"I am nothing but a reminder of a great deal of misery for him. If I stay, he will leave, for some place far less protected. He's better off with you. I suspect he'll take the Defense job in due time."

Minerva nodded. "So do I. Bill Weasley will teach it next year, but he is closely involving Harry in the curriculum planning. All the same," she went on. "I don't wish to lose you again."

As startling as the sentiment was from her, Severus shrugged it off. "You know where I will be. I see no reason why you may not consult me whenever you wish. But Harry will be better served by my remaining at a distance."

Minerva smiled. "I would not have expected your motives to be so centered on Harry's welfare."

Severus glared at her, but supposed he'd brought that on himself. "It is my own desire as well. I would as soon flee from the mocking throng."

"No one mocks you, Severus, nor are you lovelorn."

"Nor am I merry. You know what I mean. Harry has made it clear that he is not easy in my presence."

She eyed him. "And Harry's presence? Does it affect you?"

Irritated by her probing, so reminiscent of Albus, he spoke curtly. "My desires have little do to with him. My associations are not as emotional as his."

With that, he turned away, but not before he caught her skeptical expression.

It was raining when Severus departed for Agawa Bay.

True to his expectations, Harry had kept his distance since they had spoken beside Dumbledore's tomb, but the boy did approach when he saw Severus hovering his bag to the door.

"You're leaving now?"

"There will be things to harvest at this time of year in Agawa Bay. It is the ideal season to resume my research," Severus told him.

Looking out the window, Harry leaned against the wall. "I guess I never was much good at Potions."

"No," agreed Severus, but without malice. Harry sensed it and smiled faintly without looking at him. "But you preferred Defense to begin with."

Silence followed, and then Harry's brow furrowed. Severus waited until the boy fixed him with a quizzical gaze. "How did you know I would escape the curse?"

He smirked. "Had I not known its history, I would have assumed Dumbledore made the alteration to it with you in mind."

"He didn't cast it, though. Voldemort did."

"And in a roundabout fashion, Dumbledore felt that the curse might actually have its use. If not for the reasons that Riddle had in mind." Harry frowned, and Severus nodded. "But Albus was able to modify the curse to serve a purpose of his own. Oh yes, Potter, did you not recall that Quirrell taught Defense for several years running before his fall?"

The idea seemed more than a little distasteful to Harry, and Severus wondered if he had erred by letting the boy know that aspect of the Defense job. "So you think he…" Harry looked away again.

Snape shrugged. "In any case, I suspected, as did Minerva, that you possess the requisite 'purity of heart' to satisfy Albus."

Harry's eyes darkened. "There's nothing pure about me. If I passed their test, Bill Weasley should have too."

"Bill Weasley is a normal man, subject to temptation," Severus began, but then bit back the rest.

Harry anticipated him anyway. "And I'm not normal."

"For better or worse, no, you are not." He was surprised then by the sudden gratification it gave him to make Harry Potter laugh. "You have faced events that few wizards could survive with their sanity intact, let alone their conscience. Whether a native disposition or the result of your experiences against Voldemort, you are untempted by the power inherent in the study of dark magic. You will not be corrupted by prolonged exposure to it as a teacher." Severus regarded Harry thoughtfully. "Does the position not interest you?"

"No, it does," Harry said quickly. He smiled. "A lot, actually, the more I think about it."

"You might be well-advised to study and sit your N.E.W.T.s this year, in that case. On the off-chance you have enemies remaining at the Ministry or the Board of Governors, there will be no irregularities with your qualifications."

Harry nodded. "That's the plan. Hermione's sitting hers in three months, so she can start the Transfiguration position next year."

"And Weasley?"

"Dunno yet, but Madam Hooch is thinking about retiring soon, so the flying and Quidditch coaching'll be open then."

"Being here with your friends appeals to you, I take it."

"Yeah. A lot." Harry seemed bewildered by the idea of having things in life to look forward to again. Severus had long known such a concept was unfamiliar to himself, but he was not used to seeing others who had been in the same trap as he.

He will be happy, then, he told himself. The boy had made it clear what he wanted where Severus was concerned, and by abiding by his wishes and keeping his distance, Severus would serve him best. Aloud, he told Harry, "Agawa Bay remains open to you, if you wish. Owls from you will find me."

Harry looked surprised by that, but shrugged. "Ginny was wondering about it. Where we'd been, I mean."

"You are free to bring anyone that you wish. Minerva has access as well, if it is needed." Harry nodded. Severus almost reminded him that the debt meant he remained in Harry's service, but decided against it. The point was made, and mention of the debt only upset the boy.

"You'll be happy, then?"

Severus eyed him. You should know enough of me not to ask that. "I will be content." Harry caught his meaning and frowned. "Be content with that, Harry. If you truly wish me to choose my own path—"

Harry interrupted. "I do. I understand—well, not really, I guess, but if that's what you really want…"

"It is."

Harry's eyes wandered from Snape's bag to the closed door. Severus wondered why the boy would be so reluctant now to see him go. Didn't he realize that his memories would fade far sooner without so great a reminder about?

Silly, sentimental Gryffindor.

That was all it was, of course. Potter couldn't possibly want him to stay.

He reminded himself of that, so that he wouldn't need an explanation of why Harry stared after him in the hallway as Severus walked out the door.

To be continued…

Coming soon: The eyes of our heroes turn forward as thoughts turn to moving on, but it's harder than certain people think to shed the connections to the past—and to each other—in Chapter 13: Bound!

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