About two weeks into the new term, Harry awoke from a nightmare an hour before dawn. It had been nothing worse than anything else that still haunted him from the war, but he decided to get up all the same. It wasn't worth the few extra hours of sleep, the risk that he would dream again of the Dark Lord.

Albus, which the Headmaster had insisted on being called, had given Harry rooms on the Fifth Floor, not far from the disused corridor he'd adopted in his Seventh Year. Harry puttered around these rooms now, restless after his nightmare. It had been a long time since his normal nightmares had woken him from a dead sleep. With a sigh, the Gryffindor settled into the reading nook he'd created in the alcove of one of his windows that overlooked the grounds of Hogwarts.

Life back at school had been hard to adjust to, for the first few days. Seeing Severus again should have paled under the responsibility now resting on his shoulders. He was now subject to helping Master Ailin with her marking, as well as assisting in her classes. Mostly it was his job to keep an eye out for trouble makers, but he would also be assisting with the practical lessons once the start-of-term reviews had finished. On top of all this, he was still doing his apprenticeship work, and had technically joined the staff as an assistant professor. This meant he was also responsible for disciplining or rewarding students outside of Master Ailin's class. In light of all this, seeing Severus again should have been a small thing. It hadn't been.

Harry remembered clearly, seeing Severus for the first time since the Leaving Feast. He'd arrived a few hours before the students were due on the train, in order to greet the professors who were now his colleagues, and to settle into his new rooms. Master Ailin and Albus had led him into the Teacher's Lounge, which even now felt so utterly forbidden. The other professor's had been waiting, with a cake and congratulations over his new role and apprenticeship. Everyone, that was, except Severus. Only after everything had settled down, and Harry had been reintroduced to his former professor's (their first names still stuck on his tongue, after so long calling them 'Professor'), did Severus appear.

Harry had been eating a slice of cake, while everyone else settled into old and new discussions around the room. He had noticed Severus' absence, but had yet to let himself think about it. He refused to linger on it, because he couldn't find a reason why it should matter. There had been no promise when they last saw each other.

"Congratulations."

Harry had nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected baritone greeting. He'd turned to find Severus smirking directly behind him. Feeling like an idiot, but not knowing what else to do, he had set his cake aside and thrust his hand out like a damned stump. Severus' fingers had curled firmly around his.

"Thanks…er, thank you, Professor Snape."

Severus had given a slow nod. "It's 'Severus' now, I think."

Before Harry could muster enough of himself to return the gesture, Severus had moved away to join a conversation between Albus and Minerva. Harry had just stood there for a long minute, saying in his head everything he wished he could say aloud. Mostly, he'd stood there wishing Severus had done or said anything to prove Harry hadn't imagined what had happened the morning of his last Leaving Feast.

Harry sighed again, brushing away the memory of his stupidity. Since then, he and Severus had exchanged no more than a few words. He sometimes found that black gaze watching him, in the Great Hall or in the corridors, but neither of them had mentioned anything in regards to the previous year. They were, all told, no more than two ships passing in the night.

Gryffindor's Golden Boy sat up suddenly as he reached a decision. He was a Gryffindor. Gryffindor's didn't hide behind subtlety, or pine away silently. Gryffindor's leapt into adventures headfirst, consequences be-damned. And what was this thing with Severus, if not an adventure in the matters of the heart?

Harry threw himself from his reading nook and stumbled over to the desk in the corner. He grabbed one of the many empty scrolls waiting for research notes and the culminating essays that followed, and tore off a scrap. He picked up his self-inking quill, then paused. What to write, though? When it came to him, he wanted to smack himself for even having to ask. He pressed his quill tip to the parchment.

Coffee? Front steps.

That done, Harry turned to his other window, where he'd set up Hedwig's perch. The snowy owl hooted at him curiously as he walked over. He eyed her carefully.

"I don't suppose you know where Professor Snape's rooms are?" He asked dubiously, holding out the short note.

Hedwig cooed irritably and lightly nipped the finger holding the note before taking the scrap of parchment into her beak. Harry rolled his eyes at his stubborn bird and walked over to the window. He opened it as Hedwig fluttered onto the wide sill, then looked at her critically.

"Don't take 'no' for an answer, alright? His owl certainly didn't last year."

Hedwig gave a muffled hoot around the parchment clenched in her sharp beak and took off, gliding out the open window. Harry watched as she spiraled down through the air, towards the base of the castle. Hope blossomed in his chest and he went to his bedroom to get dressed. He'd done pulling on his shoes and was pacing his living area when Hedwig fluttered back in through his open window. He tripped over himself terribly as he stumbled over to his owl and took the scrap from her beak.

With a racing heart, he turned the scrap over in his hand. It read 'Yes' and that was all. Harry was reminded of his own, starkly written 'Sure' a year ago. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he didn't actually have coffee to offer. This time he did smack himself.

"Dobby!"

The excitable elf appeared with a 'pop'. "Yes, Harry Potter, Sir?"

"Is it possible to have two cups of coffee waiting for me and Se-uh Professor Snape, so that they'll be there when we meet on the front steps in a few minutes?"

Dobby's large head nodded, his ears wagging with the action. "Master Professor Snape has a standing order, Harry Potter, Sir. Every morning we's has two cups waiting for him to call, for you's and him."

This stunned the Gryffindor. "You mean this term he has?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, Sir."

Harry frowned. "Thanks, Dobby."

The elf bowed low, his ears scraping along the floor, and disappeared with a snap of his tiny fingers. Harry hardly noticed. Severus had coffee waiting for them both every morning? Why hadn't he said anything? Or written? Did this mean he'd waited every morning to see if Harry would just show up randomly at the front doors before dawn? Harry pondered these things as he collected his cloak and left his rooms. He thought he might have an inkling of an answer, something he'd gathered in his travels with Master Ailin.

There had been a wedding ceremony in the Aboriginee tribe they'd assisted. During the ceremony, the "groom" had been late to the proceedings. Harry had asked why they didn't send someone to find him. The elderly tribe member had shaken his head as if conversing with a child.

"It is his decision," The old man had answered. "We cannot make it for him, and if someone went to him, the decision would be made. He must choose to go to her, of his own free will."

Harry had thought he'd understood the old man's words at the time, but now they made even more sense. It was the same concept he'd discovered when he'd been deciding about Quidditch and his apprenticeship last year. If he'd spoken to his friends, they would have influenced him either for or against, and he would never have known if the decision was wholly his. He thought this might be something along the lines of why Severus hadn't asked him to resume their morning ritual. It was his decision, and he'd had to make it alone.