Chapter Eighty-Three

Harry tugged at the silver and green scarf – Daphne's scarf – that he'd decided to put on again that day – neither of them having returned the other's following the Hogsmeade visit a couple of weeks before – in honour of her sixteenth birthday.

He rocked back and forth on his heels where he stood in the courtyard, by the doors that led back into the Castle, while he waited and watched the first flurry of snow that year dust over the grounds.

"It always is a surprise to find a student so eager to be out of bed at this hour of the morning."

Harry looked round, quickly, at the familiar voice, finding himself under the warm gaze of the Headmaster.

Harry smiled.

"Professor Dumbledore. Um – yeah. Yeah, I'm meeting someone before breakfast. It's…kind of a special occasion."

Dumbledore's eyes went first to the scarf around his neck – getting a little twinkle in his eyes at that, alone – before they moved downward to the small, wrapped gift clutched in Harry's hand and he smiled.

"Ah, of course. To be young and in love."

Harry blushed, immediately, at the suggestion, neither agreeing nor denying it, and shrugged, glancing down at the gift.

"It's just a bracelet. She…I don't know if she even likes jewellery. Just…seemed right, I guess."

Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, even if his tone of voice was far more serious than his expression conveyed.

"You always have had good instincts, Harry. And now, in the times, is certainly not the time to be doubting them."

Harry met his eyes at the statement.

He was entirely aware of the war beyond the walls of the castle. Of all those who continued to suffer – to die – as the battles waged on, far more ferociously than he had imagined, even if he had been warned beforehand that it had been coming.

Harry tried not to think too much about it – though that was neigh on impossible – and with the holidays coming up in just a couple of weeks, any attempts at burying their heads in the sand were futile.

When it arrived, the festive break, he'd be back out in the world.

Not that he'd be fighting.

He'd be safe, locked up at home, with his mum and Grace.

Snape, though, would be out there. Back at Voldemort's side. It was a thought that made Harry's heart sink with worry and his panic rise.

"Think it's only going to get worse, Sir."

Dumbledore regarded him with the same warmth that he always had. And then the Headmaster gave a nod, conceding the truth that all were aware of.

No one untouched, now, as the war raged on.

Harry thought he caught a flash of regret in the old man's eyes as he regarded him. But they warmed, again, quickly – the twinkle returning – when he looked over Harry's shoulder.

"Ah."

Harry turned, his eyes meeting Daphne's as she approached.

"I do hope she likes it," Dumbledore said with a wink and a nod at the gift Harry held, before carrying on his way down the courtyard, seemingly heading either down to Hagrid's or from the grounds, completely.

Harry turned, looking back in Daphne's direction as she approached, the two of them sharing a smile.

But, as they did, Harry caught sight of Snape in one of the arched windows, eyes following Dumbledore.

Harry frowned, just as Snape's eyes met his.

Harry's smile that had previously been for Daphne returned and he almost lifted his hand to greet him, stopping himself just in time as Daphne reached him.

"Hey," she glanced over her shoulder, quickly noticing Snape, too, but he stepped back from the window, then, and disappeared from sight.

"Happy birthday," Harry said, before cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss. A sweet one – a birthday kiss – and only drew back a little once he had, their noses still almost touching.

"You know, Potter, I didn't realise you and my Head of House were on such friendly terms."

"What, Snape?"

Harry felt himself become uneasy, hating that he was going to have to lie to her.

"Obviously Professor Snape," Daphne chuckled, "I saw you two, after one of your detentions a couple of weeks ago. Not that often we see Professor Snape smile around here."

"Guess he was impressed with how well I can polish cauldrons," Harry said, as nonchalantly as possible, before he held up the wrapped box he held, "Um - this is for you."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, taking it.

"Thank you."

"Better see if you like it before you thank me," Harry grinned, giving a nod that she open it.

Daphne smiled, doing as he said and tugging on the strings that held the yellow paper he'd wrapped it in, freeing the box from its packaging before she flicked it open with her thumb.

Inside it was a twine bracelet, with two charms and beads upon it – one of a dog, one of an owl, representative of each of their Patronuses, and two beads on either side, one green and one red – that he'd had made after the session when her Patronus had finally made itself known to them.

Daphne stared at it for a second, before she slowly met his eyes.

Harry blushed, glancing away, not sure if she liked it or not, but it suddenly felt very sentimental and he cleared his throat, "If you don't like –"

Daphne silenced him with a kiss.

There was so much affection and tenderness in the touch of her lips and the press of her fingers upon his cheek, that he knew – without doubt – that she did like it.

A lot.

And then she drew back, pulling the bracelet from the box and holding it out to him, "Put it on?"

Harry tied it carefully around her wrist and, once he'd done so, Daphne held up her wrist, smiling at it for a second, before she reached out and touched the Slytherin scarf he wore.

"You know, you'd have been a great Slytherin, Potter," she teased him, lifting her eyebrow, "The green really brings out your eyes."

Harry laughed, flinging an arm around her shoulders and the two of them started to walk – not really going anywhere in particular – as he said, "Think Snape would've had a heart attack if I'd ended up in his House."

"Why's that?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

"Because I'm an idiot."

Daphne chuckled, oblivious to the double meaning, and he pressed his nose to her temple.

"I was wondering –" Harry said, more casually than he actually felt, his tummy fluttering a bit with nerves, " – if I could see you over Christmas? Maybe you could come to the house again and, y'know, meet my mum and my sister. Properly this time."

"Properly? You mean your birthday party wasn't a proper meeting?"

"Well, we weren't really anything back then."

Daphne turned to face him then with a grin, raising her eyebrows, "Oh. And what are we now?"

Harry pursed his lips together, but it did nothing to hide his smile, as he lifted their hands by their entwined fingers, eyeing the bracelet she wore.

"Well, I kinda thought you might be my girlfriend."

Daphne's grin widened into a smile and she nodded.

"Yeah."

But then she glanced away, adding, "I can't do the whole 'meet the parents' thing this Christmas, though. I'm not going home so I'm gonna be stuck here."

"Oh," Harry frowned, "I thought you'd be going home."

Daphne shook her head, "No. Put myself down on Professor Snape's list yesterday. It's not Christmas without Tori. I don't want to see my dad. And my mum will just be miserable, even if she won't tell him he's wrong. I'd rather just stay here and read some books."

"You're just gonna spend Christmas by yourself?"

"It's no big deal," Daphne shrugged, "I like the quiet, sometimes. And I heard the Christmas feast is even better than Halloween –"

"I'll stay too."

"Oh, no Harry –" Daphne shook her head, even if he could tell by the way her eyes had lit up at first, that she actually would like him to, " – don't. Your mum will want to see you. And your little sister –"

"It's not the first time I haven't went home," Harry said, though unwelcome reminders of the previous Christmas quickly flashed up in his mind at his words.

He pushed them away, "It'll be nice. Better. Just you and me and the snow."

And Snape, Harry's mind whispered, and he couldn't help but think that it probably would be better to stay.

Snape still stayed at Hogwarts, even on the nights he spent by Voldemort's side, and – maybe – Harry would be able to check in, this way, and make sure he was okay, rather than spend the whole two weeks just worrying about him, after the state he'd seen him in during the summer.

"I'll send my mum an owl. Tell her I'm staying," Harry told her, the thought of Snape making him even more determined.

Daphne still looked unsure.

But it didn't last long, her hesitancy becoming a smile when she realised that he meant it.

"Alright," she agreed, her hand tightening around his, "Yeah. Stay with me."

Harry grinned and nodded that he would.

"You never told me that you expected Harry would live."

Dumbledore regarded Severus calmly for a few moments, from the other side of his desk – the first time that Severus had taken up this seat since their encounter at Halloween – before he eventually answered.

"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing and should therefore be treated with caution. I suppose I should not be surprised that Lily saw fit to share the details with you – though I am somewhat disappointed that she did not heed my implorations for discretion. You know very well the need for it in this matter, Severus. Why it would have been imprudent of me to share with you the details of what I hope – and I cannot stress that enough – will occur, assuming events unfold in a particular way."

"The particular way that you are attempting to orchestrate."

"Indeed. I may not have informed you of the details, Severus, but I made no secret of my feelings towards either yourself or Harry. It is my dearest wish that you should both see the end of this war."

Severus glanced away. The words of Lily and the words of the man before him warring within his mind.

"What did you say to him this morning?"

"This morning, Severus?"

"I witnessed the exchange, Albus, do not be coy with me. If you are attempting to influence –"

"Harry and I merely bumped into one another on one of my morning strolls. I greeted him – as I would, any student – and I praised his good instincts with regards to a gift he had procured for a certain young lady that he has become – quite noticeably – fond of, these past few months."

Severus eyed him.

"You are certain, that should Harry be sent before the Dark Lord –"

"No, Severus," Dumbledore stopped him, "I am not. I place my faith in a higher power – one that cannot be explained and one that cannot be proven."

"Faith," Severus repeated, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice, before rolling his eyes and glowering at nothing.

"There are dark times ahead of us. A darkness, I fear, even that which we have already faced has not prepared us for. But soon, far too soon, we shall all have to make the choice between what is right and what is easy."

Severus slowly met Dumbledore's eyes.

"Do not allow fear and anger to cloud your judgement, Severus. You know, better than anyone, that it is by no means a way to live and to make choices. You have never before – in all these years that we have served, together – shied away from making sacrifices or the making the hardest decisions for the right reasons."

"This is not my sacrifice to make, Albus," Severus said, roughly, "Even if it were. I could not. To put my faith in your elusive higher power – I assume you mean love?" Severus ended on a derisive note that he could not help, as he shook his head, "I have never had faith in that."

"No?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I must say I quite believe that love has been your guiding light all this time."

Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Indeed, I ask too much of you, Severus. I always have. But I must ask you again."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, as Dumbledore went on.

"Upon my death by your hand, Voldemort will place you as Headmaster of the school and your place within his circle will be unquestionable. His most trusted and valuable asset. He will be exactly where we need him to be. As will you. You will have access to the Headmaster's office and the portraits will –"

"Continue to guide my every move?"

" – will do your bidding. You will be in place to protect the students, to feed the information to the resistance –"

"The resistance?" Severus scoffed, "What resistance? With your death, the Order will crumble, and I will only be instated within the school as Headmaster so long as the Ministry falls and the Dark Lord ascends."

"The institutions may fall, Severus, but the spirit of opposition will remain. Those who would rally around the symbol of The Boy Who Lived and resist Voldemort's rule will remain just as strong in spirit then, as they do now."

"I find it rather hard to believe that Harry – a fifteen-year-old boy, fully incapable of keeping even his hormones in line – is supposed to unite the people in your absence and lead the resistance to the most powerful dark wizard of all time at the height of his power."

Dumbledore got a small smile then.

"What was it you said during your House address last term, Severus – wars are not fought by single men. We are only as strong as we are united, Severus."

Dumbledore's eyes went to his desk and Severus' followed – to a number of parchments before him – and Severus recognised them as Malachi Black's articles, currently being published by Regulus through the Aurelius Foundation.

"It is a curious thing, Severus," Dumbledore went on, with that serene smile of his, " – but, perhaps, those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who have leadership thrust upon them and take up the mantle because they must and find – to their own and, indeed, everyone's else surprise – that they wear it rather well."

Severus' eyes lingered upon the parchments, considering the words, before his eyes met Dumbledore's once more.

Getting a slow smile when he understood Dumbledore's meaning.

Regulus leaned back in his chair – ankles crossed and resting up on his desk – as he tossed a crumpled-up ball of parchment across his office, easily making the wastebasket, when Severus stepped into the room.

Regulus raised his eyebrows in greeting, before lifting another parchment from his desk and beginning to read through another, though Severus could tell from the look on his face as he did – weeks into research, by this point – that his friend's confidence was waning, now, with each passing day.

Even if he did try to keep up an air of optimism, obviously for his and Lily's benefit.

Lily, sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk, turned where she sat to smile at him, "Hi."

Severus gave them both a nod, as he came into the room, taking a seat in the vacant chair at her side, "Anything?"

Regulus glanced at him, briefly, eyes flicking in Lily's direction before saying nothing and returning to his reading.

Severus' eyes lingered upon him for a moment – at the obvious gesture – only drawn away when Lily's voice sounded at his side.

"Some theories to go over with the guys downstairs," Lily said, with a far more assured air, as she indicated at a pile of parchments on Regulus' desk – the ones closest to her – before she reached into her robes and pulled out a small, rolled-up scroll and handed it over to him.

"Oh, and this came this morning."

Severus frowned, unrolling it to read what it said.

Mum,

I don't want Snape to be alone for Christmas so is it okay if I stay at Hogwarts this year?

Please.

Love you both. Give Grace a kiss and tell her I'll make it up to her.

Love, Harry.

Severus got a small twitch of a smile when he read it, though he raised an eyebrow, handing it back over between his middle and index finger.

"A likely excuse. I quite imagine the true reason behind this request is a certain young lady who just so happens to be on the Slytherin House list for remaining at the school throughout the duration of the holidays."

Lily grinned, taking back the note

"Daphne Greengrass?"

"The very one," Severus confirmed the fact, "They have, in fact, become the talk of their schoolmates these past few weeks."

"Oh my, sounds serious," Lily chuckled.

Regulus snickered.

"Merlin. Greengrass. Enjoy that union, you two."

"Doesn't want Snape to be alone for –" Severus scoffed, reiterating Harry's words, before rolling his eyes and reaching for some parchments to look through, "Splendid. In addition to maintaining my place at the Dark Lord's side, I shall spend every other free moment chasing two hormonal teenagers out of every dark nook and cranny of the castle."

"Oh, I'm sure Harry can control himself," Lily said with a grin, surprising Severus that she was actually even considering allowing Harry to spend the festive season anywhere other than at home.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. I do, in fact, have evidence to the contrary. A number of shattered bottles of potions ingredients in my store cupboard that just so happened to have gotten in the way of them during one of their encounters."

Regulus looked up properly for the first time since Severus had walked into the room, getting a wide grin, while Lily laughed, "What?"

Severus raised an eyebrow – confirming that it was no joke and he had, indeed, caught Harry getting cosy with this young lady in his store cupboard, of all places – and both Lily and Regulus burst into hearty laughter at the imparted information, while Severus rolled his eyes.

"Glad to be bringer of amusement."

"Well, that sounds like a Christmas to look forward to," Lily said, when she'd finally stopped laughing, and got to her feet. She leaned down, giving him a kiss, and gathered up the parchments she'd indicated on his arrival, "I'd better get back. See if there's anything anyone can find on this."

Severus gave her a slight smile, hand brushing hers – while Regulus simply nodded with a smile – as she headed from the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Regulus' legs came down from where they were resting on his desk, and he straightened up, becoming suddenly serious.

"I wasn't sure if Lily knew what you've been asking me to look into –"

Severus shook his head, no, and Regulus went on.

"Well, I found something about blood wards."

"Blood wards?" Severus repeated, frowningly, for that had nothing to do with what Severus had requested he learn more about.

"Yes, magic evoked by the Bond of Blood – it is one of the simpler, though no less powerful, forms of Blood Magic –"

Severus rolled his eyes, immediately exasperated, but Regulus took no heed of that, carrying on.

" – by which protective enchantments can be evoked, assuming that a sacrifice has already been made – and it's been used throughout history to create blood wards. Wards around the homes of those who need to be protected, so long as someone who shares the blood of they who gave the sacrifice resides there along with the beneficiary – they who were granted the protection – and so long as both call the place home."

Regulus pulled open the drawer of his desk, pulling out some parchments and unrolling the scrolls to look, "Often, they are reinforced by the blood of a sibling of the deceased or a child, though a parent is also a close enough link to work. And it is a protection that lasts until the child – this specific magic only works on children – comes of age or permanently leaves the residence. But look –"

Regulus indicated a passage with a point of his finger, that Severus eyed, noncommittally, as he carried on.

"There have been whispers of instances where these bond of blood charms have been manipulated and used to reinforce the protection upon the beneficiary themselves – rather than upon their residences – in which cases it has been possible to bind the life forces of the related and the beneficiary so that should another attack on them occur, the blood relation would take the place –"

"Argh!"

Severus pressed the palm of his hand to his eyes.

"Regulus, I swear, if you finish that sentence, I am going to murder you myself."

"You're the one who asked me to look into this."

Severus dropped the hand from his face, his eyes flashing.

"I asked you to uncover further information on the nature of your brother's sacrifice – the Old Magic sacrifice – by which Harry survived. I did not give you leave to resume another one of your ludicrous suicide missions!"

"Well, perhaps if you had been more specific –"

"I need you to find out if – when the Dark Lord took Harry's blood and used it in order to generate his own newly formed body – this reinforced and substantiated your brother's sacrifice, and if, by doing so, he has, inadvertently, tied Harry to life so long as he, himself, lives. So, that it is now impossible for the Dark Lord to kill Harry by his own hand."

Regulus stared at him, mouth agape.

"How the hell am I supposed to find out that?"

"Are you not one of the most well-connected persons in the wizarding world?"

Regulus tossed the Blood Magic rubbish onto his desk.

"Severus, you are talking about two of the most obscure branches of magic there is; Old Magic and Necromancy. Now, I'm no encyclopaedia, but I'm fairly certain that if those two branches had ever crossed in history I – and everyone else – would have heard something about it. At the very least Dumbledore."

Severus released a breath, averting his eyes.

He voiced the words – the question – that had plagued him, now, for weeks. Since he'd first learned the truth of what Harry had become.

"But can Dumbledore's word be trusted?"

Regulus didn't answer him until Severus met his eyes.

Regulus lifted his shoulders.

"You'd know the answer to that better than me, Severus."

Severus nodded, slowly, before looking away once more with a sigh.

"This is brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, "You should stay too."

Malachi glanced over his knees at him, from where he was sat facing him in one of the rows of bookshelves at the back of the library, "And impose on your romantic Christmas? Think I'll pass."

"Daphne wouldn't mind," Harry mumbled, though he seemed to be rethinking the suggestion.

"My dad wants me back," Malachi told him, dipping his quill in the ink jar and carrying on writing on the parchment resting across his lap, adding as he wrote, "First family Christmas and all."

"Oh yeah, right," Harry nodded, and Malachi grinned at his obvious relief, as he finished up his most recent article, signing off his name and blowing on the ink to dry it.

"Hey," Daphne came around the corner, then, dropping her bag and plonking down next to them.

Harry turned his grin upon her, holding up the letter he'd been reading from his mum, "She said yes."

"Yeah?" Daphne was just as surprised – though far more delighted – than Malachi had been, and the two kissed while Malachi got to his feet.

"Heading to the Owlery, catch you here?"

They gave him a nod and he headed out the library, carefully folding up the article and the short letter he'd wrote and addressed earlier that day to accompany it, finding himself in the queue to the Owlery a few minutes later – there was always a queue, these days, since the war had started heating up – and he joined the end, six from the front.

He shifted on his feet – lost in daydreams for a few minutes – with that same little flutter of excitement in his tummy that he got, whenever he finished an article and sent it his father's way, eagerly awaiting his dad's returning letter and photograph a few days later of the newly mounted text on the Foundation wall, there for all to see.

A soft humming behind him got his attention and he glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Luna standing there, swaying, slightly, in time to her own invented tune.

Right away, Malachi smiled, turning to face her.

"Hey. Didn't realise it was you behind me."

Luna returned his smile, "You looked very deep in thought. I didn't want to disturb you. It's a curious thing, daydreams, and you do know that some people's minds struggle to come back to them, if they're woken abruptly from a particularly good dream."

Malachi nodded, used to her peculiar stories now, and took another step up the queue when someone else went inside, so that he was now two from the front.

"Are you looking forward to Christmas?" she asked him.

"I like going home," Malachi said, focusing on the more optimistic side of it, for he'd never really liked Christmas, "My dad got married this summer so, it's the first one in years it hasn't been just us two. A bit weird, maybe. Especially since it's my mum's…"

Malachi trailed off at the reminder that this first Christmas would coincide closely with the anniversary of her death, and turned the question around, "What about you?"

Luna nodded, having been staring at him intently throughout his bumbling, "I always look forward to Christmas. It's just me and dad, too, mum died when I was nine –"

Malachi started to apologise but Luna didn't wait for one, carrying on as if it was something she was entirely at peace with.

" – since then, we've always gone to Madam Rhinewalk's across the field for Christmas lunch. She has the most splendid infestation of Gernumbli gardensi that dad's very fond of."

"Um, Ger-what?"

"You're probably more familiar with the term garden gnomes."

"Oh, gnomes," Malachi nodded, "Right."

"My father has done a lot of research on Gernumbli magic. Their salvia is especially beneficial to, we, humans. They often gift us with talents we might not otherwise have discovered within ourselves."

Malachi fought a smile.

"Um. Alright –" he took a step up the queue, as two left the Owlery and the next two in line went in, leaving him at the front, "I'll remember to give 'em a kiss next time I see one."

Luna laughed loudly at the joke, shaking her head, "That's not necessary, Malachi. It's their bites that gift us."

"Oh, right," Malachi chuckled, "'course. I mean who'd want to kiss a garden gnome, right? Would rather they bit me."

Luna laughed even harder at his words than she had before and he couldn't help smiling at her amusement, blushing a little and oddly pleased at how he'd managed to make her laugh, even if he was glad that they were alone in the corridor now.

Luna's eyes went over his head when her laughter eventually stopped, speaking dreamily, "Mistletoe."

Malachi frowned, tilting his head back and – sure enough – he was standing underneath a cluster of mistletoe than had been hung from the ceiling above the door.

He swallowed, glancing back at her, his lips twitching a little, and he wondered if that was supposed to be a hint or something.

Malachi had been ducking out from underneath bunches of the stuff that seemed to be hung everywhere ever since the decorations had gone up at the beginning of the month and Luna wasn't the first girl to point out when he'd been standing under it.

He'd been dodging unwanted festive kisses ever since.

Malachi felt a little flutter in his tummy, totally unrelated to the letter he was holding, and he stuffed it into the pocket of his robes when he felt his palm get a bit sweaty.

Obviously because he'd been standing there so long, now, waiting to send it.

Luna lifted up her hand, indicting he come closer with her finger.

Malachi hesitated, both surprised and unsure.

He knew it probably wasn't a good idea.

So, he stood there, just looking at her for a second, before finally he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a little lick – because he knew kisses were better when he did that, so it wasn't too dry – and leaned closer.

They were nose to nose, his breathing hitched and the little flutter in his tummy increased with anticipation.

In lieu of a kiss, Luna said, seriously.

"You shouldn't stand under there. It's known to be infested with nargles."

Malachi got a slow smile.

"Nargles?"

"My necklace keeps them away so I'm protected –" Luna lifted it, eyes upon the pendant, before she met Malachi's eyes again and went on, " – You mustn't be fooled by their outward appearance. They're quite mischievous little creatures, actually, they –"

Malachi released a breath, a little puff of a laugh, and took her face in his hands, silencing her with a kiss.

Luna went still beneath him.

At first she seemed uncertain – Malachi realising, then, that this was her first, so he was careful to be gentle – but then her lips parted ever so slightly beneath his and he felt her hands curl into his robes, encouragingly, so he stepped in closer – their lips moving tentatively against one another's – forgetting where they were and why he shouldn't, and just let himself feel her.

Lost himself for a moment in her warm touch and soft lips and a faint taste of honey and it was familiar and not, the way his heart beat more quickly and his breaths came a little quicker, that flutter in his tummy that he didn't think he'd ever feel again getting more and more erratic with each soft brush of their lips.

Malachi drew back, slowly, and Luna's eyes opened, meeting his, with an expression even more dazed and dreamier than usual.

Malachi gave her a small smile.

"Merry Christmas, Luna."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

The door to the Owlery opened and Malachi remembered, then, taking a step back, and then he turned as the person leaving passed them and headed into the room, leaving her dazed and silent in the corridor where she stood.

"I hope you are aware, Mr. Potter, that – even throughout the holiday period – all students continue to be expected to conduct themselves by the same manner that is expected during term time."

Harry smirked, rolling his eyes where he sat knee to knee with Snape in his office.

"Here was me thinking you'd be happy for the company, Sir."

"Ah, of course," Snape said, silkily, as he lifted an eyebrow, "I must express my deepest gratitude that you have seen fit to forgo Christmas at home with your mother and sister, all entirely for my benefit."

"I never said it was entirely for your benefit."

"I have seen your note to your mother, citing your grave concern for my well-being in your attempt to secure her permission to run rampant throughout the castle these holidays. Rest assured I have informed her of your true intentions."

Harry shrugged, grinning, "Well, she still let me stay. And It wasn't like it was a lie. You looked like hell this summer. I could help you, if you'd let me."

"Let's leave it at that, Harry."

Snape inclined his chin, lifting a hand, as if encouraging him to resume the legillimency spell that he had interrupted with his 'warning' on how to conduct himself during the Christmas break.

"Why?" Harry defied the gesture, "Your parchments on our 'How to Make a Better Harry' a couple of months ago mentioned learning potions and healing spells and stuff but all we've done so far is legillimency. Why don't you teach me them, now? I could practice on you this Christmas."

"How tempting."

"Well, you obviously think I'm gonna need them."

"That's enough of your stalling –"

"You're the one who stopped me –"

"Shall we resume the lesson, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged, fighting a smile, still delighted that his mum had agreed to let him stay, and lifted his wand, giving up on his attempts to convince Snape that it was time to move onto something else.

Even if he was pretty convinced that he finally had a good enough handle on this legillimency thing.

"Legillimens."

Memories swept before him, as they always did on his first attempt, now.

"Look, Daddy! Harry came home for Christmas and he gave me a present!"

Grace held up a little wooden box – a music box – that Harry remembered getting for her, during his first ever visit to Hogsmeade.

Snape took it, winding it up, and the familiar, sweet tuned played as she smiled, widely, at him from where she sat on his lap.

It morphed, his sister's face becoming someone else's. Another girl with the same green eyes and same red hair, and it took a second for Harry to realise it was his mum, only a little bit younger than he was now.

"Are you coming home for Christmas, Sev?"

"Don't think so. He doesn't want me there."

Snape glanced away from her, then, around the room and Harry could see they were in the Great Hall, decorated for Christmas, and it looked like it was a dance or something. Though it wasn't decorated as extravagantly as the Halloween dance had been, a few weeks before.

"Do you want to dance, Sev?"

There were eyes on them, Harry could see through Snape's, whispers and pointing and murmurs amongst their schoolmates. Disapproving glances that seemed awfully familiar to Harry, now.

"You know I don't dance, Lily."

It morphed, and the red-haired girl became his mum as Harry knew her – older, eyes more haunted than sparkling – and they were at the Foundation at another dance – one decorated for Christmas, far more lavishly than Hogwarts– and Mr. Black was there too, and Julia and Malachi's Aunt Cissy and, Harry recognised from pictures, Malachi's mum.

"I apologise, Mrs. Potter. It appears I am engaged," Mr. Black was holding his mum's hand, as if meaning to draw her onto the dancefloor, but his eyes twinkled as he met Snape's, "Though Severus does know his way around a dance floor, isn't that right?"

Mr. Black grinned and put Harry's mum's hand in Snape's.

And then the memory stuttered, a bit – affected by Harry's own amusement – and they were dancing, their lips moving in conversation now and again, but Harry didn't pick the words up in the stutter and the spinning, seeing only his mum's eyes and her warm smile as they moved around the room.

Harry lost it – too amused at Mr. Black's antics – but he didn't come out, completely, and, instead, it morphed, and, suddenly, they were in the office that Harry knew, now, to be Snape's at the Foundation and they were kissing – much like they were in the kitchen that summer, his mum on Snape's lap – and then the door to the side of the office burst open and Mr. Black burst into the room.

The two of them sprung apart, as if embarrassed to be caught, before the memories vanished, completely, and Harry blinked, finding himself back in Snape's office at Hogwarts.

Snape looked a little bit reddened, eyes glancing away.

Harry, though – who would normally be totally mortified at seeing something so gross – could be nothing but delighted to have discovered that little gem, in light of their recent conversation.

He cleared his throat.

"Do you consider that appropriate behaviour, Professor?"

Snape's eyes inched backed to his and Harry grinned, unable to help it.

Snape's lips twitched and he lowered his chin in a way that could have been either a nod of concession or of dismissal – or both, as it turned out – before he got to his feet.

"We'll conclude it there, Harry."

Harry got to his feet, too, and when he did the Slytherin scarf he'd been wearing – even now, a week after Daphne's birthday – fell off the back of his chair and Snape scooped it up.

"You do like to cause a stir."

"Only a stir because everyone else is being an idiot about it. Slytherins and Gryffindors are sworn enemies, says who?" Harry rolled his eyes, "Besides, it's not like we're the first ones to cross house boundaries – me with Daphne and Malachi – right?"

Snape only eyed him.

"I was there earlier this year when you took all the points away from Slytherin. You were right. When you said we all had to fight together – even with people that don't always agree – there's always gonna be something that unites us all. If we can't find a way to fight together, that's when we lose," Harry shrugged, glancing away, "Not just whole Houses, though. The whole school. Everyone."

Snape said nothing but, when Harry looked back at him, he was looking at him intently, clearly not unaffected by Harry's words.

Harry shifted on his feet, a little uncertainly, "Is – um – is that why you and mum stopped being friends back then? Because of House stuff?"

Snape seemed give the statement far more consideration than Harry expected – he had, in fact, expected him to just dismiss it, entirely – before he simply said.

"Your resilience is one of your more admirable traits, Mr. Potter. Indeed, it is not something that many can boast under the pressure that you have faced while attempting to reform the views of cross-House cooperation."

Snape said it with a tone that was almost sarcastic but Harry could see it in his eyes – the little bit of pride he had for him – and Harry got a small smile, bolstered by the little glimpse of it.

More than a little glad that Snape just might be proud of him.

"I wish things had been different for you. Maybe…maybe things could have been better."

Snape regarded him with that same uncertain look he always got, whenever Harry said something that got a little too close to caring – to expressing that he did – but, instead of turning away, he answered him, this time, with a sincerity Harry hadn't expected.

"Things have turned out far better than I have deserved, Harry."

Harry held his look, surprised that neither of them looked away, and then he smiled and shrugged.

"Guess if things had been different – well – maybe it's selfish but if things had been different then…mum and me, we wouldn't have Grace. So – I couldn't really wish for that."

Harry swallowed, before he added, uncertainly, unable to help but lower his eyes when he added, "We wouldn't have you."

There was a silence in the wake of his words.

A heaviness coming over them both that remained, even when Harry slowly lifted his eyes from the floorboards to meet his, unsure what he'd find, there.

Not much, as it happened.

Just Snape.

Standing, staring at him, with that same almost-warmth in his eyes that Harry was becoming accustomed to, now. It was the slightest of flickers that he did care in his eyes and Harry found it both reassuring and frustrating, how well he could hide.

He wanted him to be able to hide.

Just not from him.

But when Snape spoke this time, his voice was soft, in a way that he'd only really allowed himself to speak thus very recently with him.

"That is not a thought even worth entertaining, Harry."

Snape held out the scarf he held, Harry taking it and the words as dismissal, and – as he made to pass – Snape's hand came out, touching his shoulder briefly – a slight squeeze of his fingers against him – that made Harry smile.

"Goodnight, Sir."

Snape said nothing more, just gave the slightest of nods as he made his way behind his desk, and Harry headed from the room.

The gentle stroke of long fingers against her forehead drew Lily from sleep, her eyes flickering open, meeting Severus' when she did.

For a moment, she just lay there, bewildered at the sight of him.

"Severus?"

He gave her a smile. One of those small, genuine ones he rarely allowed except for Grace, that she adored.

She pushed herself upwards, blearily, but an immediate sense of panic took grip of her, that Severus would come to her in the middle of the night.

"Is it Harry?"

Severus shook his head, reaching for and taking her hand in his, his eyes lingering upon them where they rested on the edge of the bed where he sat beside her.

He drew in a drew, before meeting her eyes again, his voice rough when he spoke.

"Things are going to get worse before they get better."

Lily frowned, her eyes flickering between his as he went on.

"Lily. I know you do not have faith in what has been said to you. And I, too, have my doubts. But I do know that the only way in which we can end this is if we are all united, fighting towards the same goal. I need you to know that there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you and for our children."

Lily stared at him, her brow still furrowed, part of her wanting to protest – against what, she didn't know – but the other willed her to be silent, to listen, to be with him – as she could see in his eyes, in that moment, that he needed, now more than ever – and so she gave the slightest nod, that he go on.

Severus drew in a breath.

"I have to do something. I cannot tell you now. But you will know when it happens. And when it does you mustn't come looking for me. Say nothing. Trust me, that I will come and find you when it is safe."

"Severus –"

"Lily."

Lily's eyes held his, a dread rising up within her at this unknown that she could see in his eyes would soon be upon them, and Severus reached up, his hand caressing her cheek.

And then he leaned in, touching his lips to her temple, before resting his cheek to hers and they lingered there, a moment, the two of them, time seeming to stand still.

His voice was a whisper in her ear.

"I love you."

Lily's hand tightened around his at the rarely spoken words and she turned her head to meet his eyes, the vulnerability in them catching her off-guard, and she touched her forehead to his, realising, when she saw it, that he needed her to be strong for him, in this moment, in the way he had always been for her.

Lily nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

The hand still on her cheek slipped around the nape of her neck, drawing her close, and he held her to him. Drawing comfort from her embrace.

But not for long.

Not as long as either should like.

He touched his lips to her temple – once, twice – more fiercely than before, and then he got to his feet and left the room without a backwards glance.

And, only then, did Lily allow her own sense of dread come upon her, at what was soon to come.

Severus apparated back to the Castle, his heart heavy with his recent encounter with Lily.

And, when he did, he saw it immediately.

He hesitated for only a millisecond – before two silvery does fired forth from his wand – as he broke into a brisk walk - almost a run - towards it.

The Dark Mark suspended high above Hogwarts.