Chapter 25

Music pumped loudly through 12 Grimmauld Place on New Year's Eve, and the liquor flowed throughout. Members of the Order, the DA and other friends of the Light filled the various rooms of the old Black residence to bursting point, spilling out into the hallways as the rooms failed to contain their raucous energy. The younger generation partied alongside the older, but no one seemed to care, too busy celebrating the start of their first year in peace. In the drawing room, Seamus Finnegan and Dedalus Diggle stood on top of the coffee table, waving tankards of mead that sloshed about and leading those gathered around in repeated, rousing choruses of Peeves', by this point well-known, victory song:

"We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter's the one, and Voldy's gone mouldy, so now let's have fun!"

In the kitchen, Aberforth regaled the Hogwarts students with stories of Dumbledore in his youth, and Bill Weasley snogged his new wife up against the kitchen cupboards. Kingsley, having refilled his drink, escaped into the main hallway from the front door and found Severus Snape staring at a blank wall.

"Alright, Severus?"

"Minister." The Hogwarts professor greeted formally without taking his eyes off of the wall, staring at it like a puzzle to be solved.

Kingsley stood beside him, leaning on the opposite wall, and followed his gaze as if he might see whatever it was that Snape was seeing.

"Am I missing something?"

"It's what the wall is missing that interests me."

Kingsley frowned at the wall until it clicked. "The portrait."

"The portrait." Severus confirmed.

"It's gone?"

"It's gone."

"How?"

"That is the question."

"Have you asked Harry?"

"He said that Kreacher took it down for him."

"I suppose that's possible?"

"It's possible."

Kingsley looked across at the professor. "But you don't think that's what happened."

Severus shrugged but didn't look away from the wall.

Kingsley frowned, "You're not thinking…?"

Finally, Snape dragged his eyes away from the blank space to look at the Minister, but he remained silent.

"Albus couldn't even…you think Potter could?"

"I think that Potter lied to me when I asked how the portrait was taken down."

"Well, I suppose you'd know."

"Occam's Razor is the theory that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one." Severus pondered. "Only I can't decide which explanation in this circumstance is the simplest."

"Well," said Kingsley. "I don't think you're going to find the answer staring at that wall. Let's get you a drink."

By the time Severus ran into Harry he'd had enough firewhiskey to make him amicable and Potter was apparently rather inebriated himself.

"Professor! You came!" Potter said with far too much enthusiasm.

"Evidently." Severus drawled.

"Are you having a good time, Sir?"

"It is not entirely unpleasant."

"Great!" Harry grinned, impervious to Snape's ill humour.

"The important thing, Potter, is that you are having a good time."

The young wizard grinned again. "Yeah, I am."

"Drunk again, Mr Potter?" The Professor teased.

"Er…"

"Relax, Harry. You're of age and having a party in your own house in the presence of numerous adults, including no less than three of your school teachers. I don't think anyone could admonish you for this evening's activities."

Harry smiled and Severus was pleased to see that despite recent events, the young wizard looked far healthier than he had on Christmas Eve.

"You look a lot better than you did a week ago. I trust you're sleeping more?"

"Yes, Sir. And the Dreamless Sleep you sent has helped too, Sir, thank you."

"You realise that you don't really need to call me 'sir' when we're not at Hogwarts."

Harry blinked owlishly back through the alcohol induced haze. "But then what would I call you?"

The professor rolled his eyes; he really had no patience for people that couldn't handle their liquor. "You could call me 'Severus.'" He explained slowly.

"Oh." Harry said inarticulately, then wrinkled his nose. "I'm not sure that I could."

Again, Severus' eyes lifted, this time praying for patience. "Suit yourself."

By this point they had made their way to the posh settee in the old Black library, where they both took a seat, enjoying the relative peace from the rest of the house.

Harry leaned back and lifted his feet up on to the coffee table in front of him, crossing one foot over the other. Severus thought he looked relaxed in a way that Severus hadn't ever seen him before.

"Did you ever think we'd get here?"

"To what are you referring? That we would survive the war or that we would be sat in the same room without arguing or trying to kill each other?"

Harry laughed, loud and carefree. "Either."

"No, I did not expect to survive the war. I…hoped that you would."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, me too."

They were quiet for another moment; Harry sipped at a glass which was half-filled with cola and, Severus could only assume, some form of spirit.

"I'm surprised you're here." Severus said then, and Harry looked at him openly. "In this house, I mean."

Harry shrugged and took another sip. "Got nowhere else to go."

Severus scoffed. "You're the 'Boy-Who-Conquered'. You couldn't find someone who would let you stay?"

"You're the 'Spy-Who-Saved'. Would you go and live with any random fan who is willing to put you up?"

"Point taken." Severus conceded. "You could live at the Burrow."

"Yeah, probably."

"Or you could have bought somewhere new."

Harry shrugged. "I probably will buy somewhere new at some point." The young wizard said vaguely. "I haven't had all that much time for planning for the future."

Severus nodded, accepting the point. "I didn't think you liked this house."

Potter looked around the room as though he was assessing it there and then, taking in its dusty shelves of old tomes.

"I hated it at one point. It was just another cell to Sirius, another place he was trapped, but that's not why I hated it. After Sirius died it just reminded me of him, but, more than that, it was lost potential. If Pettigrew had been caught, if Sirius had been free, if we'd already won the war, Sirius could have been my legal guardian. We could have lived here together, we could have been happy." Another sip of his drink, another shrug. "We had to stay here when we were in hiding so I guess I got over it."

Severus felt slightly guilty for bringing Harry's mood down, but the young Gryffindor still seemed calm, contented in that blissful state of intoxication.

"Harry! There you are!" Dean Thomas appeared at the door. "You've got to come downstairs, George made vodka shots with the Weasley Wizard Wheezes snack box. Neville just did a shot and then fainted!" He laughed hysterically.

Harry laughed. "Alright, I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll save you a shot!" Dean shouted, already bounding back down the stairs.

Harry turned back to his Hogwarts professor. "Ready to rejoin the party?"

"That's quite alright, Mr Potter, I think I've had enough fun for one night. I'll be heading back to the castle."

Harry looked disappointed. "No! You can't go yet." He whined, alcohol loosening his words. "You have to stay 'til midnight at least. It's New Years! And George is going to set off fireworks."

Snape's eyebrow rose, "In the middle of muggle London?"

"'Mione's set up perception wards, it's fine." Harry dismissed the professor's concerns.

"I see."

"So you'll stay?"

"Merlin, Potter, why on Earth do you care?"

"Because…" Harry's head rolled around as he searched for the words. "Because you kept me alive. You did so much to keep everyone safe, so you deserve to celebrate the victory, have some fun?"

Severus cringed, but was inwardly touched. "I'm not very good at 'fun'."

Harry grinned, "Humour me?"

Snape sighed, "Very well, but I refuse to do shots of any kind. Go have fun with your friends, Mr Potter."

"Alright, see you later, Sir – I mean, Severus."

Harry skipped down the stairs, following the sounds of laughter and clucking.

He came to a stop next to Ginny who was laughing hysterically at a chicken pecking its way around the kitchen floor.

"Who's that?"

"Ron." Ginny giggled and Harry grinned.

Hermione appeared beside them, pleasantly flushed with inebriation. "He had better change back before midnight. I'm not kissing a bloody chicken!"

"Aw, he could give you a quick peck on the cheek at least." George joked.

"Ha, ha." Hermione returned sarcastically.

With a pop, Ron transfigured back in to the room. "Oi!" He pointed an accusatory finger at George. "You swore that shot hadn't been spiked!"

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers."

Ron couldn't help but smile at the horrendous pun. "Oh, bugger off."

"Ronald Weasley, I heard that!" Molly clipped him around the ear as she danced past.

"You had to invite my mother." Ron muttered to Harry who shrugged unapologetically.

"It's one minute until midnight." Neville informed the group.

"Alright, everyone into the garden." Harry called out to the room over the noise of music and chatter.

With lots of last-minute faffing and pouring of drinks, most of the party managed to gather onto the back patio. Arthur led the count down and the group joined in chanting excitedly, "Okay – ten, nine, eight…"

Harry felt Ginny's hand in his as she turned to face him, her other hand coming up to cup his face.

"…three, two, one…Happy New Year!" Cheers went up around them.

"Happy New Year." He whispered and then Ginny kissed him, soft and perfect.

The fireworks began as they broke apart, loud and spectacular. Great sparkling hippogriffs danced around the sky and then fizzled into nothing. A rocket shot straight upwards with great velocity and at its highest point burst out into the shape of a phoenix. Harry watched the lights reflected in Ginny's eyes as they flashed and sparkled.

"I love you, Ginny Weasley."

She smiled like it was obvious. "I love you too."

They turned and looked up at the fireworks together, Harry tucking Ginny under his arm to keep her warm and close. He turned his head into her hair, taking in the vanilla scent of her shampoo, and murmured, "I can't wait to have this year with you."

Ginny reached an arm around his waist and squeezed. "Me neither."

Harry dumped his trunk at the foot of his bed and sighed, glad to be home. He wondered if he should try not to think of Hogwarts as home any more. He couldn't stay here indefinitely. The year would end and Harry would have to move on. Maybe he should buy somewhere new like Snape had suggested. But then he wasn't sure what he would do with Grimmauld Place. Sirius hated it, but it was still his. Harry didn't feel like he could sell it.

He left the room still pondering and met up with Ron and Hermione who had made him and themselves some hot chocolate to ward off the January chill. Most of the 8th Years were milling about the room catching up and exchanging gossip.

"Alright?" Neville approached from across the common room, greeting them warmly.

"Hi, Nev. Good break?"

"Yeah, great thanks. You?"

"Yeah, not bad. How was your head on Sunday morning?" Harry smirked at his friend and Neville groaned.

"Urgh, like a hippogriff was stamping around inside. Don't ever let me challenge Aberforth to a drinking contest again."

"Ha, I'll do my best, but you were pretty insistent."

"Hey, um, have you seen Professor Snape's timetable for the meetings this term?" Neville jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"No, why?"

"You might want to have a look."

Intrigued, the Golden Trio crossed the room to the notice board where Snape had indeed posted the termly rota. Harry inspected it, searching for his own initials among the boxes, but spotted nothing unusual.

"What's wrong with it?" Ron's nose scrunched up and his forehead wrinkled. "We've got the same meetings every two weeks as we had last term."

"We have." Hermione said. "But look at everyone else's"

Harry looked again at the timetable, this time searching out other students' initials. Hermione's concerns soon became apparent; the other students had far less appointments than the Golden Trio scheduled in the coming months.

"How come no one else has got as many as us?"

"Not just us. Look." Hermione tapped on another initial on the board: D.M.

"Malfoy." Harry realised.

The Slytherin in question wasn't far from them and, noting the Gryffindors' disgruntled expressions, came over.

"You've seen it then."

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Why've we got to have more quality time with Snape than everyone else?"

Draco shrugged. "Because we're the most fucked up?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Still a right slap in the face though, isn't it?" Ron grumbled.

"It doesn't seem very fair." Hermione agreed and the four of them slumped into the common room armchairs discontentedly.

"Good Christmas?" Harry felt awkward making small talk with his old nemesis, but figured it was worth making the effort. If he wanted to end the old house rivalries and blood hatred, he would have to lead by example.

Malfoy adjusted his robes. "It was fine. I stayed in the castle."

"Oh, sorry." Harry thought it must be the first time that Malfoy had stayed at home during the holidays. For Harry, it had been the first year where he actually had somewhere else he could be.

"It was fine. I spent Christmas day at the Manor and then returned here." Malfoy said stoically. "Mother is not the best companion at the moment."

"That sucks."

Draco sniffed. "Can't complain really. She's not in Azkaban, so that's something. How about you Potter? What does Gryffindor's golden boy do for Christmas?"

Harry took the name good-naturedly as intended. "I was at the Weasleys' over Christmas and then at my place in London for New Year's."

Draco nodded. "I heard about the Death Eater attacks."

"Yeah, we're still trying to track them down. Don't suppose you know where they'd be hiding?"

Malfoy's head shook in the negative. "Bloody idiots. Can't accept that they've lost. Don't even realise how much better off they are with that mad man dead."

The Gryffindor trio and their Slytherin brother in arms did not have long to wait before they could confront the Hogwarts Deputy, as he strolled into their rooms before dinner. The room went quiet, as it always did when Snape entered, and he requested that they gather around to listen.

He began, "I trust you have all seen the meeting timetable."

"Bloody cheek." Ron muttered crossly.

Snape glanced briefly over at him but continued without comment. "As before, the meetings are compulsory, though it is up to you how much and what you say. Naturally, you are also free to come and talk to me at any time should you feel the need to."

"Professor," Hermione bobbed her hand up in the air in an aborted attempt at respect. "Could you tell us why some of us have been scheduled more appointments than everyone else?"

Snape sighed. "You need not concern yourselves with other people's meetings."

"It's not fair." Ron interjected boldly. "I've got twice as many meetings with you as Dean and Seamus. How come they don't have to see you every bloody fortnight?"

"Not everyone will require the same kind of support." Severus explained patiently. "This is not a reflection on you and should not be taken personally."

"Well that's utter bollocks." Harry mumbled under his breath.

Draco, who was sat next to him, sniggered and whispered back, "The man was a master spy; you'd think he could come up with something better than that."

Harry chuckled and Snape, who had not missed their exchange, gave them a sharp look. "This isn't what I came here to talk about. Perhaps I could speak to the four of you about this privately afterwards."

"Oh, great!" Ron complained loudly. "More time in meetings with you!"

"I will discuss it with you later." Snape hissed, causing Ron huff but be otherwise silent. "I also wished to inform you that your first meetings with me this term will be discussions around your future careers. Therefore, you should come prepared to discuss potential employment opportunities. There are a number of career brochures on the table for your perusal. Any questions?" The 8th Year students shook their heads or else remained quiet. "Very well. I trust I need not remind you of the rules, nor that I expect you to maintain the highest standards in your school work and personal decorum. Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy," he eyed each of them in turn. "We will discuss your concerns in my office."

The four students followed Snape down the spiral staircase to his dungeon dwelling, each hurrying to keep up with his fast pace.

"Sit." He commanded, conjuring an additional two chairs. "You are not naïve. You understand why this decision has been made."

"Because we're more screwed up than everyone else." Harry offered bluntly.

The Professor frowned. "That is not what I'm saying."

"It's what you mean though." Ron said crossly.

"It has been decided…"

"You have decided." Draco interrupted pointedly.

Snape gave him a look but amended, "I have decided that some students no longer need to continue the meetings as frequently as they had been, as they no longer require the same level of intensive support."

"Everyone but us." Hermione noted.

Snape nodded. "It is my belief that the four of you would still benefit from the regular meetings."

"Because we haven't suffered enough." Draco muttered and Harry's shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh.

"I appreciate your feelings on the matter. Nonetheless, my decision is final. We will continue to meet fortnightly. You may go." The four students got up to leave. "Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, one moment." He halted their departure.

"I don't know when this friendship formed," he waved his hand dismissively between them. "And I can't say I'm unhappy about it. However," he continued sternly. "If it begins to cause me any irritation, I will be very displeased. I assume I need not say that if I become displeased, the consequences for the pair of you will be most unpleasant."

The old school enemies looked at each other; Harry quirked an eyebrow and Draco smirked. "Yes, Sir." They chorused together.

Snape sighed and shook his head, resigned. "Get out."

"Yes, Sir."