Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: Beta'd by virus-of-blossoms. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Chapter 3 – Stagnant Rivers (Harry)
"He seems fine." Harry stopped outside the room. He was sure no one else had come, so Harry wondered if Snape had made a call through the floo. "That is why I called." Harry peaked around the corner, into the room. Sure enough, Snape was on his knees in front of the fireplace. He couldn't hear who he was talking to, though. They were too quiet, so all he could make out were mumblings. "That might be good. Perhaps you could help him with his memories." So, Harry thought, they are talking about me. "This evening, perhaps. I could bring in food for a late dinner... How many?"
Harry hung in the doorway, eyes narrow, as Snape finished the conversation. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when his ex-professor turned around, but a smile certainly wasn't it.
"Who was that?" Harry asked, not caring that his voice sounded accusing. They were talking about him, he had a right to know who it was.
"Hermione," Snape answered, and Harry decided it was strange to hear her first name coming from his mouth. "She hadn't heard from you this week and she was worried."
"Oh," Harry said, glancing at the floo. He would like to talk to Hermione, And Ron. Get their opinion on the matter.
"She would have come through, but she wanted to find a babysitter as she and Weasley will be staying the night."
"A babysitter?" Harry asked weakly. "She has a …kid?"
"With Weasley, yes. They married three years ago." Harry found himself with his mouth open, staring at Snape, who seemed to have expected the reaction. "You're the godfather."
Harry nodded. He was glad he was still close with Ron and Hermione.
"Is anyone else . . . married?" Harry asked hesitantly and he wondered if he and Snape were married. They had a house together . . .
"Probably. I don't tend to keep notes on your friends. You can ask them when they arrive."
Harry took a few steps into the room and after a second, Snape pointed at a seat. He sat and the man followed suit across from him.
"We're not married, are we?" he asked. Snape closed his eyes and shook his head.
"No. We were talking about in a year, though . . . before."
"What?"
"We had discussed the matter previously," Snape responded slowly, "that if we still thought it was a good idea, we would bond in a year." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "I had also suggested adoption."
Harry stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he never did. Adopt? He wondered. He didn't think he was against adopting a kid – actually, helping an orphan sounded like something he'd want to do, but . . . "I don't think I want a kid right now," Harry said. Snape nodded.
"That's what you've said before. You said to wait a year or two before I mention the subject again."
Harry nodded and Snape was giving him a strange look. He was surprised when the man stood and sat down next to him. "Harry, I . . ."
Harry thought he knew what Snape wanted and the thought made his jeans a bit tighter than they had been a minute prior.
Could he kiss Snape? Before, he didn't mind it, really. And even if it was Snape, the idea was sort of appealing.
Before Harry could make up his mind, Snape brought his face close and before he realized what he was doing, Harry leaned up and kissed him.
A short kiss, because he thought it felt awkward with how they were sitting, but Snape didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually, as Snape stayed close and looked pleased. With a sudden flash of irritation, Harry pushed him back.
"What's that for?"
"What?" Snape asked.
"That look!"
Snape leaned back in, but not too close. "I'm simply happy that you would feel comfortable enough to kiss me." Harry narrowed his eyes. He seemed honest enough, but then, Snape was always a good liar, wasn't he? Besides, Harry thought to himself, he doesn't sound like Snape. Even before he was saying things like 'simply happy'.
When he realized he was no longer in the mood to even think about kissing, Harry stood up and walked toward the door.
At the stairs – one of the three in the house – he stopped, not sure where he should go. The last few days, he had slept with Snape because . . . well, he wasn't sure. He didn't feel as if he had a reason to not to, though.
He was still debating what he should do when Snape walked up behind him.
"Perhaps we should talk more," he said, and Harry turned around to sit on the stairs.
"What about?"
"Anything."
"You just don't want . . ." Don't want what? Harry wondered. It was on the edge of his tongue, but he couldn't remember what it was he was going to say. It felt so common, though, as if he had said it a million times already.
"We always fight, Harry," Snape sighed. "And it always ends the same. I just don't want to lose you."
Unwillingly, Harry barked out a laugh. "Do you realize how odd that sounds coming from you? I don't even remember being with you. Do you know the last thing I do remember? It was the last day of term, when we were packing for the trip home and I remembered I had left my cauldron in the potions classroom, so I was going to get it. You wouldn't let me take it, saying that I should never be allowed around a cauldron as I was too incompetent, or . . ."
Harry stopped short when it was clear Snape wasn't taking it well. Again, he wasn't sure why he knew, because Snape's face hadn't changed, nor did it look as if he was going to yell.
"You need proof," Snape said flatly. "Proof that we do more than live in the same house."
"I don't know. I just wish I could remember."
Harry stayed sitting as Snape stared at him. He tried to match the man's stare, but it grew uncomfortable, so instead, he pulled up his socks for something to do.
"This may not be the best course of action." Instead of telling him what, Snape took his hand, pulled him standing and then lead him up the stairs. They found themselves outside one of the rooms that Snape had claimed as one of his private rooms. "Albus sent me his pensieve yesterday."
Angry, Harry pulled his hand away. "Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"
"Because he advised me to use it only if we have to. If you are to recover your own memories, he thought it would be better to remember them as you originally did, not from an outside source."
"Then why did he send it?"
"Because I asked him to. Is there any memory you would prefer to see?"
"No," Harry answered after a minute. "You . . . you said some things aren't good, so I guess I don't want to see that."
Snape looked at the pensieve setting on the table in the middle of the room, then back at Harry. "One memory. If you feel you need to see more, I will show you, but Albus might be right. If your memories are to return, seeing too many might confuse everything."
Harry nodded. It made sense. The more he thought about it, he supposed there were flashes. Not of memories, really, but of feelings of how things should be. He thought of telling Snape his idea, but stopped. He wanted to see a memory, first, so he nodded.
It was a few more minutes before Snape brought his wand to his temple and dragged out a silvery memory.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
July, 2000
"What happened?" Harry stood next to Snape – the non-memory Snape – and watched as the memory Snape talked to someone at the desk in St. Mungos.
"He fell off a balcony," Snape answered. "Lost his balance, I believe."
The person at the desk nodded, but Snape wasn't looking. Instead, he was watching where they were taking memory-Harry.
"They'll take care of him, sir," the lady said. "But since you're here, I think it's best to get the information now. Saves time later."
Harry wanted to laugh at the expression on memory-Snape's face. He looked at Snape, but he wasn't near laughing and that calmed him a bit.
He wondered how far into their relationship this was.
And, since when was he clumsy enough to fall off of a balcony? Harry kept his mouth closed, though, wanting to know what happened.
"Go on," Snape said.
"You said this was Harry Potter, correct? Address please?"
Snape listed off an address – one Harry wasn't familiar with – and Harry looked around. They were in an area for non-magical accidents, it seemed.
"That isn't the address on record. Last time he was here—"
"He moved in with me recently." Harry looked closely at memory-Snape, and then back at the real Snape. Something in his voice wasn't right.
"I didn't know where you lived, so I lied," Snape told him. "They didn't need to know."
"So this was before we were living together?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"Okay, then . . . hmm. Everything else is current, though? It says here that he was last here two weeks ago."
"I suppose it should be," Snape answered and the lady nodded.
"Well, we won't worry about it, then. You can sit, if you want. They'll let you know what's wrong soon."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Harry sat on the balcony, looking at the woods. It was the woods he had been close to when he first started remembering, again.
The memory Snape had showed him didn't tell him much. It was one that he wouldn't be able to remember, anyway, because he had been unconscious at the time. It was something, he supposed, but not much. Too many things still didn't add up.
"Harry?" he heard Hermione call from the out in the hall. He stood and opened the door. She looked confused. "What are you doing out there?" she asked, but then shook her head. "Never mind. Severus explained how you can't remember anything recently, so I brought Karissa. Your goddaughter."
Harry looked down the hall in the direction of the stairs.
"Look, we'll talk tonight, alright? About all of it. Karissa doesn't know you've lost your memories, though, so it might be best to just play along now. She's only two and there would be too much to explain." Feeling quite out of his league – he couldn't remember ever having to talk to a two year old before – Harry nodded. "Well, go on downstairs. I need to go to the bathroom."
As Hermione disappeared down the hall, he managed to convince himself to take the trek downstairs.
". . . up the tree," he heard a small voice say.
"Oh? Did the squirrel come down again?"
"Nu-uh," the voice said. Harry walked to the door and looked around the doorframe into the room, trying to stay out of sight. Talking to a two year old seemed out of place for him, but to Harry, it seemed unimaginable to see Snape with a kid.
The girl – Karissa – was on Snape's lap, and he was holding a book in front of her.
"What kind of squirrel was it?" he asked gently.
"That one."
"Do you know the name?" The girl shook her head. "It's a red squirrel."
"That's not red," Karissa said laughing.
"It's a squirrel red," Snape said.
Harry watched for a minute longer, impressed. Opposite of how Snape had been at Hogwarts, he was patient with Karissa and actually seemed to enjoy teaching her. And she seemed just as happy to be in his lap.
Harry thought back to earlier, when Snape had told him he had suggested they adopt and now he saw why.
Debating not going into the room, Harry took a step back, but was only pushed forward by Hermione. He conjured up a glare.
"Get in there. I can't stay much longer if I'm going to be back in time for dinner."
When Karissa saw him, she jumped up and ran to him, hugging his leg. Harry stood there, not knowing what to do; he looked to Hermione for help, but she was only smiling at him.
"Hi," he said, expecting her to say hi back. Instead, she went off on a ramble – or what seemed like one, anyway – but Harry didn't understand one word of it.
"Uh huh," he said once she finally stopped and looked up at him. He ran fingers through his hair and tried to smile.
"Come along, Karissa, it's time to go to Julie's. Remember her? You'll be spending the night."
Five minutes later, Hermione and her daughter were out of the house, and Harry could only sit on the stairs, feeling lost and empty. So many things just weren't right.
Snape moved to stand in front of him and he looked up.
"You became better with children a couple months after Karissa was born," Snape told him quietly. He paused, but Harry didn't answer. He really wasn't in any sort of mood to talk. "I will order food from Ashley's and pick up a few things we need. I will be back in an hour." His ex-professor paused again. "Unless you wish to come with?"
Harry shook his head, stood while turning on the stairs and went to his room without another word.
It was only about five minutes of lying on the bed before he decided taking a nap wasn't what he wanted to do. The air blowing into the window made him realize how much he wanted to be outside and he thought of the balcony a few doors down.
The sun was setting already, and Harry wondered where the day went. Lots of sitting around trying to remember, he supposed. He knew Dumbledore should be sending defense information soon . . .
Harry shook his head, suddenly weary of meeting up with his friends. He supposed Ron and Hermione would come tonight, but whom else? Do I have other friends I don't know about? He wondered, leaning against the railing and finding himself dizzy from looking down.
Stepping back, Harry thought he saw movement near the woods and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was. He wondered what animals lived near here. Wherever here was, exactly.
He never did ask what the name of the town was.
Looking over the edge once more, Harry made up his mind. He had time, so he would go into the woods. Perhaps he would think of something to do there.
His mind wandered to the garden, briefly. Snape had spent a good amount of time there the past few days and it still needed considerable work. One counter of the kitchen was piled with vegetables, fruits and herbs to be frozen, used or sold. Quite honestly, the kitchen and garden work held no appeal, so he kept to his decision of going to the woods.
Back in his room, Harry threw open his wardrobe and opened the drawer on the bottom to find shoes that would keep his feet dry. The first two pairs were useless – perhaps he was keeping them for an emergency, but he was surprised they could be considered wearable. The next pair was a dress pair and finally, a pair of boots. They didn't look worn, but since they were on the bottom, he realized he probably didn't have much use for them.
Odd, since they looked more comfortable than the pair he had been wearing.
Happy that something was going his way, Harry sat and pulled on the first boot to feel an uncomfortable pressure on his toes. Pulling the shoe off, he reached inside and pulled out a small key.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
October, 2000
Harry stood outside the apartment door, box in hand. Hermione had given it to him, its purpose doubling as a get well gift and an apology. Not that she had anything to apologize for. He was never truly mad at her.
It took a few moments before Harry was able to find the door key in his pockets, as both were filled with loose money, charmed paperclips and Snape's mail he had picked up. Snape seemed to only come to the apartment once a month to pay for rent, but lately, there had been important-looking envelops that Harry had been forwarding to him at Hogwarts. He hadn't heard anything back from Snape, though, so he was beginning to suspect the he could stop.
Inside, Harry sat on the sofa he had slept on until two weeks ago. Snape only had one bed, but the man wasn't there to use it, so Harry decided he could until Snape came back. The couch was uncomfortable, even with cushioning charms, so the bed, although squeaky, was a welcome comfort.
Harry wasn't sure if Snape was going let him stay when he came back, but as of now, he didn't have much place to go. Because he had been recovering, he had been overdue with rent and although the landlady understood – mostly – he decided it was best to just pick up his few belongings and stay at Snape's.
It was Snape's fault, anyway.
And he wasn't sure why, but he was looking forward to the next time Snape came to pay his rent, because last time he came into the apartment, he found it was nice not to be alone all the time.
The clock's bell rung. One o'clock. Still early enough to go to the office and tell them he was ready for another job, but another job didn't exactly fill him with excitement. Instead, he pulled the post from his pocket and thumbed through the envelops. More than usual – usually, Snape only got a few letters a week instead of six in one day – but nothing looked terribly important.
He stood to put them in the breadbox he had been keeping the mail in. Snape had an extra one for some odd reason.
"Potter," Snape said suddenly, and Harry turned around, wand out instinctively.
"What are you doing here?"
"Where is today's post?"
Harry pointed at the box and glared. "You came all the way here for mail?"
Snape didn't answer so Harry stormed from the kitchen and was heading for the bedroom when he realized Snape might ask too many questions, so, instead, he let himself fall onto the sofa and crossed his arms.
It didn't matter, it seemed, because Snape left the flat with a slam of the door.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Harry sat on the fallen, damp tree, fingering the key. He knew it was to a box Hermione have given him, but he wasn't sure what was in it or where it was. Or why it felt so important.
He thought back to the day in the apartment. Of all the things he could remember, it was something that didn't seem to mean anything. Snape hadn't seemed to want him around, if he was remembering it correctly.
Although it was getting dark, Harry didn't feel like going inside. His friends would be here by now, he assumed, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to see them – or meet them, if he didn't remember them. He remembered something, and he wanted to remember more.
Anything.
It soon got too dark to see properly and Harry stumbled his way back to the house with no more old memories than before. Inside, it seemed more lights were lit than usual.
Hearing voices from down the hall, Harry went to the room with mismatched chairs to find Ron and Hermione talking, Ron obviously about to turn on the telly.
"Harry! We were wondering where you had gone!" Hermione said, standing. "Severus is in the kitchen. The food has been here awhile, but we decided to wait. Where were you?"
"I just needed to think," Harry told her.
"There would be a lot to think about, mate. Remember anything, yet?"
Harry briefly glared at him before shaking his head. One memory wasn't much to go on and it wasn't anything he wanted to share with his friends.
Maybe with Snape, though, and that feeling confused him a little.
"Let's go eat," Ron said and Hermione rolled her eyes before they walked to the kitchen. Snape wasn't there.
"Maybe he went upstairs," Hermione said as Ron prodded at the food. She turned to Harry. "Did you want to go find him?"
Harry nodded hesitantly as Hermione started searching the cupboards and he sighed as he headed toward the nearest stairs. Maybe it was a good thing.
He found Snape in their bedroom, searching for something and Harry watched him for a minute, even though he was sure Snape knew he was there.
"How long did I live at your flat before we started to . . . you know . . . like each other?"
Snape looked up at him, a questioning look on his face. "I am not sure. Is there a reason for this particular question?"
"Well, I sort of remember something. Not much, but I was living in your flat, and you came back from Hogwarts for your mail. I don't . . . think you wanted me there. Did you just let me live there because I got hurt?"
"That wasn't the only reason," he answered, standing and walking toward Harry with something in his hand. "But at first, it might have been. I don't know."
"How do you not know why you let me live in your home?"
Snape didn't answer at first. He sort of looked like he wanted to hex him, like he had sometimes during his potions classes.
"I don't usually sit and ponder how my emotions effect my actions on a daily basis, Harry," Snape said in a tight voice. "Perhaps I felt bad, perhaps I was beginning to like you. At that point in our lives, it's hard to tell. Do you remember how you felt?"
Harry froze stunned. Did he? "I don't know," Harry finally answered and at Snape's knowing smile, Harry couldn't help but feel cheated. Harry didn't have all those memories, so of course he wasn't going to remember how he felt. Snape, on the other hand, did.
"What's that?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"Drawings. You gave them to me for the lack of a birthday present when you first learned when mine was." Taking the loosely bound book, Harry flipped through a few of the drawings. There were decent. Most of them of nothing specific, but the scenes were recognizable. "You became a better artist since then."
"I drew these?"
"Of course."
"I can't draw," Harry said shaking his head.
"No, you weren't able to at first," Snape laughed and Harry had to pause at that.
"Right." Handing the book back, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Ron's probably eaten half the food by now."
"I brought home enough food for half a week. I hope he hasn't."
Still, Snape set the book on the bed and they hurried downstairs to find Hermione setting the table and Ron already piling food on his plate.
Some things, he supposed, were never meant to change.