I shouldn't be writting this now, but tomorrow's exam is fairly okay, and if I study any more my head will die and drop slowly off my shoulders to lie in a sloppy puddle at my feet. Sorry for the imagery there. I hate exams! Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 5: Regularity

Harry shouldn't have been, but still he found himself surprised how easily he slipped back into his old role, playing his part with all the enthusiasm his recent melancholy had leeched from him. Ron and Hermione noticed the change first, being closest to him. They noticed how much easier it was for him to be with them again, without the lacklusture responses of the last few weeks. It was easier to laugh with them, to remember that they were his friends, and that the friendship had never been about his role as saviour, and all about three people who enjoyed being close to each other. It was easier to look on their budding romance, and feel happy for them. Really happy. Not the dutiful pleasure that had been all he'd been capable of not two days past, but proper respect and joy for their obvious love. It felt good.

It was strange how many things felt good to him. Nothing really had changed. The same things that had driven him to create an emotionless facade to shield himself were still present. He still had to save the world. He still had to do it with only Ron and Hermione and whatever naive, idealistic, brave, inexperienced fools chose to throw their lot in with him. Them, and Severus.

That had changed. Not in public. In class, the Potions Master was still as snarky, cruel, and vindictive as ever. He still tossed about detentions as if they were going out of style, and Gryffindors were still his prefered victims. Homework was still horrendous, and potions were as much a mystery to Harry as they ever were. The school still looked on their rivalry with smug pride, or quiet censure, or outraged fury, depending on where the viewer in question's loyalties lay. Not even Ron or Hermione knew there was something more now.

Something more. Something strange and tentative, and foreign territory for both of them. It was too distant for love, and too intense for friendship. It was like ... a vulcanised version of respect, a feeling of ... brotherhood, maybe, between the only two people who knew what it was like to be the other. It was nothing Harry knew, or had experience of, but it was something instinctual. Maybe it was what werewolves felt in packs. Family, clan, partnership. It felt good.

They had a routine going, now. One that revolved around the Study. Their haven. And their armoury. There was more knowledge stored there than Harry'd ever seen, or thought to look for. There was the school library, of course, but he didn't have Hermione's drive for research. But in Ravenclaw's study, something changed. It was a place designed for research, and anyway, Severus was there. Severus studying was something to see. He put Hermione to shame.

Harry was watching him now. He should have been reading. He'd found a simple, clear text outlining the use of wandless magic in combat situations that he was sure would be useful. But there was something utterly absorbing about the other man's method. He started with some undefinable concept in his mind, a theory come up with Merlin knew how, and from what. He looked first for similar ideas, likely partial methods. It looked like this one was charm based, but it could have easily been potions, or occlumency, or electronics, or muggle cooking. The range of subjects Harry had seen him touch off was phenomenal. So was the volume of notes he'd make. Reams of them, linked by no logical system Harry could see. He'd peaked. Some of them were in some sort of code, that looked like waves, or maths formulae, or Hermione's arithmancy constructs. It was incomprehensible. A couple of times, Harry'd gotten to watch him start practical experiments. He hummed. That was what struck Harry. Severus hummed as he worked. It was ridiculous.

"You know, Harry, actually reading the book does help with learning. First step towards study. An important step," Severus smirked, chin propped in his hand over his notes as he stared at Harry in amusement. Harry blushed, realising he'd been staring for the past ten minutes. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I just," stop to blush again, "I like watching you work." Severus blinked.

"Beg pardon?"

"It's just ... I thought Hermione could study. I mean, she thinks 'Hogwarts - A history' is light reading. But you, you seem to devour knowledge, and then twist it and improve it to make it do what you want it to. Your notes, they're like some kind of ancient scrawl, combined with futuristic symbols. It's like what I imagine watching the man who invented wolfsbane work. It's ... cool."

Severus simply stared at him for a long moment, a strange smile on his face. After a minute Harry began to get uncomfortable. "What? What's wrong?"

"Fascinating," Severus murmured.

"What? Tell me! What'd I do?"

"Fascinating, how you look at study. It's not some eldritch process, you know. It's not an incomprehensible idea that only people like Ms Granger and myself can grasp. Anyone with sufficient motivation can learn. I'd call survival sufficient motivation, wouldn't you? If you want to live, you learn. End of story. You'll manage, once you realise that. And, incidentally, you are watching the man who invented wolfsbane work. Small world, hmm?"

Harry stared. "You ... invented wolfsbane? Really?"

"What? Don't think I could have?"

"No! No, not that. But ... why? Why would you want to help werewolves?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I wanted to help them? Wouldn't it make sense, with such a risk in the school, not to mention among Voldemort's ranks, to make sure that if they kill me, they meant to? I don't know about you, but the thought of dying because some morphed idiot lost control rankles. When I die, I'd rather knowing it wasn't some mistake, or some idiot prank! That's all."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, watching the other man calm his breathing. Put that way, he could see how much what his godfather had done would have hurt Severus. But if it had been him, he wouldn't have put his effort and genius into making something to make life better for the werewolf. He'd have gone like Umbridge, hating them and trying to destroy them. He didn't think he could have spent so much effort on something that would make his enemy happy. But it made sense, to want to die for something worthwhile. Something with some semblance of meaning.

"Guess that makes sense," he murmured. "Guess I see how you'd want to die properly. I mean, so do I. I want to die knowing it was because I did something right, that pissed off my enemies. I want to die knowing that Voldemort is on his merry way to hell ahead of me, and screaming my name the whole way. That's how I want to die."

Severus smiled sadly. "Read your book, Harry. Learn how to learn. When time comes, we'll walk that merry path together. I'll wait for you, on the road to hell, if you'd like. If only to point out the correct path away."

"Thanks, Severus. But I'll probably be the one waiting for you. And if you're going to hell, I am too. I'm your mirror, remember? We'll wander down together, and maybe rearrange things a bit. I can't imagine you leaving things as shoddy as they undoubtedly are in the afterlife. You're too much of a perfectionist."

Severus laughed quietly. "Well and so, Gryffindor. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, see if you and that book might become better aquainted. It looks a useful volume."

"Yeah, okay," Harry murmured.

They slipped back into their routine without a murmur of disturbance, and when midnight came, put back their books and notes and slipped away to play their parts again. There was comfort in the regularity.

And in the friendship.

Well? Gotta go to bed now. I still have that exam tomorrow. Drop a review, cheer me up before I go? Thanks. I love you all!