A heavy sigh escaped Harry's lips as he hunched over his desk. He wanted nothing more than to ignore the stack of paperwork that seemed the be forever accumulating on the surface before him.
No matter how much he struggled to stay focused on the tasks at hand, his mind couldn't help but be violently dragged back to the events of last night.
The truth be told from the moment he had stepped foot into Hermione's and Ron's house, he couldn't wait to leave.
He found himself yearning once more for his time at Hogwarts, when his relationship with his friends was exactly that, a relationship. Their thoughts, feelings, experiences, they were all relatable. The three of them had shared every moment together. They had grown up together, been there for each other through the onslaught of struggles that each year seemed to guarantee.
Now it felt as though they might as well live in a different galaxy.
Why was he feeling this way?
Harry pushed himself away from his desk, his chair sliding back until it almost collided with the wall behind it. The young wizard turned his head, gazing out the dusty window down onto a fragmented rendition of the streets of London.
He didn't want to admit to the world how lonely he felt. Yet with each passing day he felt himself growing more distant. It was as though he lived in a different reality to those around him. He felt constantly probed, violated with hounding questions like 'Why are you still single?' 'Is there anyone special in your life?'
Or perhaps his personal favourite 'The great Harry Potter? Still single?' Then they go on to mumble about how he must have some serious skeletons in his closet.
The look of pity that pooled in the eyes of the interrogator every time he answered with 'no' was becoming unbearable. Though all this seemed insignificant compared with being told that he was getting on in years, so he had best get a move on before all the good ones are gone.
Before all the good ones are gone.
How inspiring.
Perhaps it were he himself who were the least desirable of the lot of them.
The ultimate leftover.
But he had to ask himself, was there actually someone special in his life?
He didn't have to announce it to the world, but he did have to admit it to himself.
Or perhaps this whole thing came about because the people around him failed to see how much he craved a meaningful relationship. He wanted more than someone to settle with. He wanted someone he could relate his deepest darkest secrets with, someone who understood him without the aid of words. Someone who was his own batch of strange.
Yet even as he struggled to justify his current life circumstances, he suddenly realised that he couldn't recall a time in his life when he had felt so rejected, so worthless.
This life wasn't exactly something he had signed up for.
It was nothing but inherited.
Yet here he was.
Save the world and then be discarded like a candy wrapper.
What he craved now more than ever was some kind of reprieve, some sort of salvation.
But where would he find this?
His eyes continued to scour the bustling streets, as if he expected to find the answer buried amongst the chaos.
No.
For this he would have to look deeper.
Harry's eyes turned to the clock on the wall.
11:00
Close enough.
The young wizard gathered the mounds of paperwork from his desk before stacking them into a loose pile in the corner. He collected his quill before sliding it hastily into his upper most desk drawer.
Without any sort of hesitation, he was out the door.
*~.~*
Why was he here?
He could ask himself this question all day long, yet he knew the truth was perhaps something he was too afraid to face.
It wasn't too late if he decided to turn around, but then this whole thing would become pointless. His eyes danced over the shop front as he strained to see through the dust caked windows.
Harry closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and subsequently forcing it from his lungs.
His fingers danced loosely over the cold, bronze doorknob, as though he desired nothing more than to remain in the space between forever, terrified of commitment and yet more afraid of turning back. He would soon cross the point of no return, once his presence was announced, he would no longer be able to explain away his existence with some lame excuse.
No.
He had to go, otherwise he would have come all this way for nothing.
Harry turned the cold knob before gently pushing the door open, it's chinking filling the void of silence that inhabited the room. His nostrils were instantly greeted by the almost overwhelming aroma of liquorice and old spice.
"I wondered when I'd be seeing you again." Snape smirked, not looking up to greet his visitor as he decanted a large glass container of beetles into smaller vials.
Harry's eyes instantly darted in the direction of the voice. They instantly fell upon an all too familiar face, his dark eyes were as deep as the volts of Gringotts.
Harry stalled, he knew what he was walking into, yet he still found himself succumbed by the man's ambient demeanour.
"When? Not if?" Harry finally stated aloud, though the words escaping his lips were uncensored, leaving him without his consent as he raised an eyebrow.
Snape huffed yet still his eyes did not meet Harry's.
The younger wizard sighed loudly, as though suddenly bored, yet some part of his actions seemed to demand the attention of the older man before him.
Snape considered the young man before him, as though he were a jury deliberating the fate of a scorned human.
"I see a lot of myself in you." He stated finally, as though resigning to a fact he would rather deny to his grave. Yet, even so, his eyes seemed to betray his reluctance to the young man currently bearing witness to them.
Harry opened his lips to argue the point, yet his words failed him.
But why?
How was Snape like him?
Wait.
Does that mean he was also like Snape?
"Why don't you come inside and shut the door." Snape drawled, prompting Harry to comply without hesitation. He pushed the glass paned wooden door closed behind him before taking slow, cautious but steady steps towards his old professor.
Apart from the myriad of bottles crammed together on the shelves, the store was devoid of other people.
"Is it always this quiet in here?" Harry once again stated his thoughts out loud without first considering them.
"I don't run this business because I need the money Mr Potter." Snape smirked as he finally glanced up from activity, his eyes locking intently with Harry's green orbs.
Harry tilted his head slightly to the side, as though confused yet his eyes seemed to crave more information. Yet it seemed he no longer needed words to convey this desire to his old potion's professor.
"I do this because I enjoy it." He added with apparent resignation as he put the young man out of his curiosity induced misery.
Harry continued to stare at the man, as though the answer he offered was not enough.
He needed more.
Why had the man effectively chosen to abandon his promising life in the magical world? He could still be the Headmaster of Hogwarts if he so desired.
Snape sighed, he didn't need to ask what the young man was thinking when his thoughts were etched so obviously upon his face.
"Since the wizarding war a few years ago, I have become somewhat an enemy of Death eaters and allies alike." Snape drawled as he sealed the glass bottle of beetles with a cork before sliding the glass container away from him.
Harry nodded instinctively, of course Snape would effectively be outcasted by the wizarding community, a community that no longer appreciated his sacrifices. Of course, the remaining Death eaters see him as nothing more than a backstabbing, Dumbledore-loving double agent. While the allies think he is nothing more than a Death Eater that got away with murdering the greatest wizard of all time. One that should be locked away in Azkeban for the rest of his natural life.
It seems for Severus Snape, there was no longer a place for him in the wizarding world after all.
So now here he was, back in Cokeworth, back to where his origins were first seeded.
"Believe me, it's easier this way, to be in a world that is effectively my own." Snape added, though he seemed unable to retain any conviction in his voice.
"You know how it is professor, no good deed goes unpunished." Harry stated, a small, wry smile began to form on his lips as stepped closer to the man.
"I'm no longer a professor."
"You will always be a professor to me."