It had been a little over a month since Harry had somehow convinced his friends and classmates that he was secretly dating the notoriously cruel Potions Master. In that time, the news had finally reached the papers, and two more attempts on Harry's life had been disrupted by Snape's sudden, unexpected appearance. They had yet to discuss how they were going to end things, and Harry was secretly glad about that. If they split now, the attacks on them both would increase, undoubtedly; and there was also the matter of Ginevra Weasley, who had yet to stall her attempts to seduce Harry, even as she continued to spread her own, hate-filled, lies. Harry was also secretly grateful for the pretend relationship for an even more selfish reason: people were leaving him alone. Ron and their other friends were coming around (Harry was still too scared to ask if Hermione knew the truth or not), and the rest of the school seemed to be growing to accept the pairing more every day. The upshot was that Harry didn't have to put up with lame attempts at seduction, save from Ginny, and could spend his time in peace.

Unsurprising for a Seventh Year, he had begun spending much of his free time in the library, often sans-company. He found the stacks to be a beautiful place of respite, of peace and tranquility, and often escaped there in the evenings after classes, when his House common room was full of his noisy classmates. It was here that he was found by the last person he expected, on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

Harry jumped lightly when a pale hand touched the book he was studying intently. He chuckled at himself as he looked up at the Potions Master at the other end of the arm. Snape smirked lightly.

"I did not think this was in the curriculum," The man said, his tone soft. Even so, several students looked up at the sound of his gravelly baritone and turned their full attentions to the interaction.

Harry blushed lightly. Even after a month, their public interactions were so rare that they were still a point of fascination. He cleared his throat, opting to ignore their audience.

"It's not, this is purely knowledge for the sake of answering a question." Snape's eyebrow rose curiously. Harry grinned, blushing further. "I'm allowed to have a curious side. I received Hedwig as a gift, but everything I've found says that a familiar chooses its owner. All of these books," Harry gestured at the pile beside him, "And none of them explain how I came by a familiar purely by chance."

"And that stack?" Snape inquired with interest.

Harry rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "That's just for fun. The sorts of spells I feel I should know. And potions, obviously. There's a wealth of potion classifications you never even touch on. Did you know that there are potions that let you become certain animals temporarily? I mean, they're way beyond my skills, you'd have to be a Master to even attempt them, and be… well, you, if you actually want them to work, but still. The explanation behind them actually sheds a lot of light on things I've never understood before. If we weren't all talentless dunderheads, you could use these to teach us about ingredient and cauldron interactions."

"Research for research sake, Mister Potter?" Snape teased gently.

"What can I say," Harry answered, grinning. "I guess it was only a matter of time until Hermione rubbed off on me. I just wish I had more time to find the treasures hidden here. But, between classes and homework, I'll be lucky to see maybe a fifth of the library before I graduate." He put on a sad face. "Woe is me, for coming into my curiosity too late for it to do any good."

Snape's smirk slipped into a gentle smile, the barest upturn of the corners of his mouth. His eyes, inscrutable, held a depth of emotion Harry didn't understand. But there was a touch of sadness, in the smile and in the eyes, which Harry knew all too well.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"You remind me of your mother," Snape said, this time his voice so soft as to let only Harry hear.

The Gryffindor blushed. "I… thank you."

Snape surprised him again, this time by taking the seat on the other side of the table and looking at him with clear confusion on his normally stoic features.

"I'd give anything to get out from under my father's shadow," Harry admitted quietly. "My mum, though… I don't so much mind living in her shadow."

A pale hand reached out and touched the back of his, and the Gryffindor flinched before moving his hand back in reach of those gentle fingers.

"You are your own person," Snape said softly. "Never let anyone tell you different, Mister Potter. There is a little of him in you, and a lot of her, but the man you've become is entirely you, the good and the bad. You are not your parents. If I might speak frankly, I think you have become a much better confluence than either of them might have hoped for, and I truly believe that they would be proud of how you turned out."

Harry felt his heart flutter in his chest as he grinned. "That has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you."

Snape smirked, standing from the table. "That said, I shall give you the same advice I once gave Lily: your research will go much smoother if you extend a little kindness to your facilitator."

They glanced together to the stern library matron who was moving in and out of tables, ensuring the life of each book that had been taken from their sacred shelves. Laughing green met pointed onyx again, and they shared a moment.

"And I bet you put it just like that, too," Harry teased.

Snape surprised him (and everyone else in earshot) by chuckling lightly. "More or less, Mister Potter. Enjoy your afternoon."

-Break-

That night, Harry sighed harshly for the thousandth time as he shuffled through the papers that made up his private career research. He'd started coming down more often, at Snape's suggestion. He now came down at least twice a week, not always on the same days, and had begun to think of the man's rooms as a refuge. No one could bother him here, and it was where he'd finally decided to look at other options for life after Hogwarts. He was getting nowhere. He knew what he wanted, he wanted to stay at Hogwarts, but the harsh words of his friends were keeping him from settling on something. Glancing to his right, he saw Snape smirking lightly as he graded his own stack of papers. He knew the man was waiting for him to speak, but he was loathe to do it. He didn't want to burden the Potions Master with his personal problems, on top of everything else. The black gaze met his briefly, and the smirk grew, and Harry opened his mouth without wanting to.

"Can we talk?" Harry blurted. He mentally slapped himself before Snape chuckled lightly. "I mean… well, I know you're working, and I shouldn't bother you on top of everything else, but I don't really have anyone I can go to about this." He said in a quick breath.

The man looked up, still smirking his half-smile. "What is on your mind?"

Harry blushed at getting the man's full attention so quickly. Even Hermione only half paid him any mind unless she could correct him. He sighed roughly once more, making the Potions Master chuckle again. "I… I'm a little lost about my future."

Snape's smirk faltered and he gestured for Harry to continue.

"I know I want to stay at Hogwarts," Harry said softly, leaning his elbows on his knees. "But I don't really want to teach, at least not yet, not until I'm older and wiser. Ron just barely started talking to me again when he accepted that this," He gestured between them, "Wasn't going away, but now he's mad that I won't be pursuing Auror training, as we agreed in Fifth Year. He said it's a waste of my talents."

"I see," Snape replied, frowning. "As I recall, you quite successfully healed me," The man observed. "Have you thought about pursuing healing? I'm sure Poppy would love to have an assistant."

Harry scowled. "That's what Hermione said after an ill-timed comment from Professor McGonagall. But after some thought, I decided I couldn't work for someone who can switch loyalties at the drop of a hat and accuse me of travesties without the slightest bit of evidence."

"Ah, I take it Madame Pomfrey has not set aside her suspicions regarding what occurred between yourself and Miss Weasley?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, she has, she's accepted that you and I are in a relationship. But for her to believe so quickly and so strongly that I attacked Ginny… I feel betrayed. Maybe someday I'll forgive her, but right now the thought of working in close quarters with her is prohibitive, to say the least, and I'm not really sure I want to be a healer. I'm kind of tired of everyone's life being in my hands, you know? Of course, Hermione thinks I'm being selfish, withholding my natural skill from people who need it just because of a 'bruised ego'. And I know she's right, and I am good at healing magic, I just…"

"It is not what you wish to spend your life doing," Snape finished for him. "Your friends seem to think they should be the ones running your life."

"Be fair," Harry argued. "They just…" The Gryffindor frowned. "Actually, you're not wrong. But that doesn't help me decide what to do between now and teaching, once I've got the experience."

"Have you given any thought to what you would like?"

Harry nodded, blushing. He couldn't believe Snape was listening like this. He'd never had anyone listen to him this way, letting him work out for himself what he wanted to say and do without feeling pressure to get to the point. Hermione was always trying to guess what he wanted to say, and was usually wrong, leading to a lot of confusion and very little resolution. Ron zoned out if Harry spoke more than a few sentences. Snape, however, seemed to, remarkably, understand the trail of his thoughts, and, even more remarkable, seemed willing to let Harry map it out on his own, with the barest guidance.

Snape moved forward to the edge of his seat, setting down his quill and half-graded quiz. "Mister Potter, I am going to tell you something that your mother told me."

Harry gaped openly. It was still a shock to hear the man speak of his mum. He felt honored each time it happened, as if he were being given a glimpse into the true character of Severus Snape. Especially once he'd heard back from Remus about the first time the Potions Master had mentioned her. Finding out they'd been friends had been eye-opening.

Snape's eyes found his, and he held the gaze. "The only master you have to serve in this life is yourself."

Harry frowned, not sure he understood, and Snape smirked gently.

"Shortly after our career guidance sessions, Lily said that to me. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I believe I do now," Snape explained. "There is the obvious, that no one else can govern your life unless you let them, and there is the metaphorical. In this case, just because you have talent in an area, that does not mean you must pursue it at the cost of your own happiness."

"You did," Harry argued.

"How so?" The Potions Master challenged, his eyebrow rising curiously.

"Well, you have talent in potions, and you teach."

"And you believe I have sacrificed my happiness?" Snape queried.

Harry opened his mouth to immediately agree, but the confusion in Snape's eyes gave him pause. "Haven't you?"

"Not in the least, Mister Potter," Snape answered. "I teach because I enjoy doing so. I could have left at the end of the first war, or any time in the ensuing years before the Dark Lord's return. However, I never did, because teaching suits me. My Head of House wanted me to pursue my Mastery for selfish reasons, he wanted me to write, and invent. When I expressed a desire to pass on my knowledge through teaching, he laughed at me and told me I was a fool."

"Yeah, but what about the fact that you aren't teaching the class you want?" Harry pointed out triumphantly.

Snape gave a light shrug. "That has no bearing on my happiness. I love to teach, despite what my students may think. Teaching Defense is merely a byproduct of my desire to best prepare my students. I knew the Dark Lord was not gone, and I used to believe that teaching Defense would help me save the lives of my students. Potions change lives, they don't save them, or so I believed. However, my beliefs have since shifted and I now take great pride in my work here at the school, and in my continued experiments and inventions. It is why I returned to my classroom this term."

"What changed your mind?" Harry asked curiously.

"You did," Snape said softly. "You saved your friend's life because of something I wrote in a book when I was 16. I realized that I'd simply been looking at my talents in the wrong light. I wasn't given my gift with Potions to destroy, I was given them to create, and to save. This term reflects that. I completely rewrote my curriculum, allowing for… frivolity, to better assist my students with recognizing what took me so long to realize myself: Potions are not a means to an end, potions are useful, and they can be fun, and most importantly, they can save lives. My only regret is that it took me so long to realize what I'd been doing wrong."

Harry grinned. "All that because I shoved a bezoar down Ron's throat?" Snape gave a slow nod, causing Harry to chuckle. "Alright, so I don't have to pursue something just because I'm good at it. And what I want is allowed to change. But what about finding work here? Where do I fit?"

Snape smirked. "I believe you already know the answer to that."

Harry's eyes widened when he realized Snape had somehow read his train of thought too well. To be known so succinctly was terrifying. He blushed again, wondering if telepathy was just another one of the man's hidden talents. The alternative was even more frightening: Snape had noticed him, had seen where his joys lie, and was now encouraging them. It was an observation none of his friends, no matter how close, had ever made. Snape smirked at the surprise on his face, but didn't speak. Finally, Harry nodded.

"You're right," He agreed. "The only problem is whether she'd let me."

"You can but ask," Snape told him softly. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. "It is near curfew. You had best return to your dorm before Miss Weasley tries yet again to seduce you."

Harry shuddered, gathering his things into his bag. "Yeah… I still can't believe she keeps trying while lying through her teeth about me to everyone that'll listen."

"It is simply one of those mysteries of the female mind I will never understand," Snape chuckled.

Harry laughed and shouldered his bag. "Thanks, for talking with me, and for keeping this going even though you have the entire Potter fan club to contend with in the corridors."

Snape shrugged. "They are but a nuisance. It is a pleasure."

Harry scoffed self-deprecatingly, truly convinced that nothing about being forced to spend time with him as well as fend off a slew of irate students could possibly be pleasurable. Still, it was kind of the man to say so. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the Potions Master, who had returned to his grading, and a small smile touched his lips. Pretend relationship though they may have, he wondered if they couldn't become real friends. He had tested those waters tonight, and Snape seemed amenable. It was a good start, and Harry felt hope blossom in his chest. Snape was a surprising, interesting, and good-hearted man who seemed to get him on a level his supposed best friends didn't even know existed. He was glad, suddenly, for the fake relationship; not because he was protecting the Potions Master, which he was glad for every day, but because without it he may never have discovered just how queerly easy they could get along.