Im sorry I havn't written sooner, ive had the worst month of my life. I was caught up in the bombings in London, and have only really just started to get back to normal. I got burns on the backs of my hands and arms so writing has been a bit tough. I hope you guys didn't give up on me. I also wanted to take a break for a bit, because I know that if I kept living in my little fantasy world while I felt like this then it would end up being some sort of safety net.

I really wanted to get back to it though, because it is something I enjoy and nothing will take that away from me. Also id like to apologise for how crap this chapter is, I just got stuck and had no idea where I was going, the next will be better though.

Finally I wish to express my heartfelt condolences to all the family and loved ones of those who died and were injured in the London bombings.

He was met by Hermione when he got back, she had been waiting with the headmaster on the castle steps for his return. It seemed as though Albus had filled her in on the finer details because when he was close enough she flung herself around his neck, hugging him hard and rushing out her sympathies against his neck so that all he could hear was a series of muffles.

Harry closed his eyes and welcomed her, wrapping his arms tight around her, relishing the familiarity. At last, he had something he knew. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, felt sick with desperation and aching want. He started to shake, unable to control the release, and Hermione just held him tighter.

"I'm so glad you're hear." He whispered brokenly into her hair. "Everything's a mess and I don't know what to do." He sobbed like a child, breaking down completely as he at last accepted what had happened to him, the sheer enormity and impact on his life.

"It's okay Harry," Hermione soothed, stroking the hair from his face as they pulled apart, "It'll all work out somehow."

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes and ask 'how?' but Hermione just rested a hand on his face.

"You're a brave man Harry, and have faced much more than this. You can get through it." She smiled weakly at him, and harry felt a little warmth in his stomache, thawing out the freeze. He sniffed loudly.

"But all those things I've been able to have a hand in," he hiccoughed, "But this…, this is so much more, there's nothing I can do."

Hermione looked up at him, at the helplessness in his eyes. "There is," she said softly, "You can help yourself, I'm sure that there is something you can do. We'll just look at our options and find out where to go from there." She gave him a stronger smile this time.

Trust Hermione to this like that, but then, that was what Harry had most appreciated about Hermione, her cool sense of logic and stoicism. She would no doubt, at the first chance, be up in the library researching. He nodded and gazed at the floor a little, relishing the contact of Hermione's hand on his arm.

He looked up finally, a lot more collected, and took her in. she hadn't changed that much, he'd been able to tell from her photo's, but now her looked at her, she definitely looked older, her skin was smoother and her eyes set firmer. She'd somehow managed to tame the frizziness of her hair, but it was still slightly wild, just a bit shinier.

"Mione?"

They both looked up at the figure in the doorway, he looked at them with some anxiety. "Is everything okay?" he asked, stepping closer, he looked at Harry and nodded, "Alright Harry?"

Harry shifted in confusion, looking at Hermione for help. It seemed to all at once dawn on her and she jolted with shock. "Oh God, ummm…. Harry, this is Niall," She said, gesturing at the other man, "My husband." She finished softly.

Harry looked at him, tall, slim built and with mousy blonde hair, Niall was attractive, but not in an obvious way, he could see why Hermione had fallen for him.

"Wow," Niall seemed to step back a bit at Harry blank frown, "You mean you really can't remember?" he asked, incredulity thick in his voice, he stared at Harry.

"Uh, no." he answered, not entirely comfortable with talking to an apparent stranger. It was odd, he knew this man, had probably spent hundreds of hours in his company. He was the biggest thing in his best friends life, and yet he experienced not even the slightest flicker of rememberance or recognition.

"Harry's been to St. Mungo's already for tests," Hermione supplied her husband, probably more for Harry's sake as she had probably realised that he wasn't entirely keen on being stared at like a circus clown. Niall looked at his wife, and then back at Harry.

"Jeez Harry, I'm so sorry."

Harry nodded and muttered his thanks.

Hermione cleared her throat, "Why don't we go on up to yours Harry, then you can tell me everything." She smiled reassuringly and linked her arm with his own as she ushered them both towards the staircase, Niall following behind.

IVIVIVIVIVI

"So where's Ron?" Harry asked when they were all safely ensconced within his living room and he had made them all a cup of tea, remarkable feat really considering he couldn't remember where anything was.

"In Russia," Hermione replied grimly, "He's on a peacekeeping delegation with a rogue band of wizards who don't believe in hiding themselves from the other world. We sent an owl to him, but who knows if it arrived, ive sent them before and its taken weeks for him to reply, Fi was crazy with worry." She sipped her tea

"Fi?" Harry asked, "His wife?" he ventured a guess.

"That's right." Hermione said, beaming at him as though he'd remembered and not used basic guess work. "Fiona, they met at the ministry, she used to work on reception but now she's personal assistant to the head of muggle relations."

Hary nodded and placed his tea upon the table. "And you, how did you two meet?" he asked, looking between them.

A strange emotion flickered across her face as she explained that they had met at the university, he was head of research development and had asked her help on a project at the time. Harry realised that it must seem strange to her, recounting all these details of her life that were common knowledge among them.

"But enough about me." She finished, "I want to hear about all this, whats going on, how did it happen?" it seemed nothing would sate her curiosity, and so he explained. He told her about waking up and notincing that he looked different, he told her about the last things he remembered, about Albus' recollection of how he received his actuall injury, the tests, the specialist, consultants and therapist. He told her about his confusion and aching want to remember, about how all these people knew him better than he knew himself, about friends he never knew he had, conversations, feeling hopes and dreams that he would never remember.

Afterwards he felt worn out but lighter, having got it all off his chest. He felt better talking to Hermione about it than he did with his counsellor, maybe it's because she was familiar, or maybe it was because she actually wanted to help and listen rather than get paid for it.

"So what are the next steps, what's being done about it?" she asked, tucking her feet up under her and leaning a little against Niall who was happily listening to there conversation.

Harry sighed, "I'm seeing some counsellor, I'm not sure what to make of it, ive only been to one session but all she does is ask me about objects and photographs, as though I havn't spent every spare second staring at them and trying to figure out what's going on." he sighed again and rubbed his eyes, "And they're making me take some kind of potion that does something to the pathways in my brain," He waved his hand in a bored gesture, "I dunno, but it helps me sleep." He picked up his tea again.

"Talking of potions, how is Severus taking this?" She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask. Harry was lucky he'd just swallowed his tea or he may have ended up wearing it.

"What?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Well, surely you've talked to him?"

"No." Harry said, almost indignantly, "Why would I?"

Hermione looked at Niall, who was looking just as nonplussed as she was. "Because you two do everything together, share everything." She said it in a reassuring manner, like you would use when telling a child that going to the dentist was perfectly safe. If he'd had his senses about him, he'd have thought it patronising.

Harry blinked. He couldn't seem to get over the fact that he and Snape had been friends. Everyone had told him so, the evidence was piled against him, yet it still seemed the most laughable thing he could think of.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

Harry sat alone in his room, chewing at a fingernail as he watched the second hand of the clock tick softly on the mantlepeice, it was eight o'clock, and he should be taking his medication, only the headmaster hadn't been up. So Harry waited a little longer.

He strolled around his little apartment for what must have been the hundtredth time, picking up the same books and photos that he'd looked at before, some vain foolish hope in his mind. With each passing minute he felt the silence weighing more and more heavily, the lack of knocking on his door. At nine he sat down again and pulled on his sneakers, tying the laces and pulling his jeans down over them so that just a bit of red canvas could be seen past the white toe. He stood and glared at the clock as though he could blame it in some way.

He knew he'd have had to do it some time or later, all these people couldn't be wrong, couldn't be playing one huge pratical joke on him. So he set out, pulling the door shut behind him, and headed for the dungeons.

Even though he hadn't been down there for years, they hadn't changed, and to Harry it felt just like he was heading to class, or more likely, detention. He passed his old classroom, and the corridor that led to the dormitories, he could here a ringing laughter coming from it's depths. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, like the ridiculing and degrading laughs that Harry had heard during his time there, it just sounded like a group of friends having fun.

Finally he came upon Snape's study, the Professor's name engraved on the door much like his his. There was a faint glow of light coming from underneath the door so he knocked. He waited hesitantly on the other side, listening for any movement, he heard none and was about to knock again when the door opened.

There was a moment of shock on Snape's face as he took in Harry but it passed quickly, he regarded him carefully and motioned him inside.

Harry entered, rubbing one arm in a nervous comforting gesture as he took in his surroundings. Little had changed, there was still an air of organised clutter to the place, with books laying open on top of one another, various jars placed haphazardly next to stacks of essays and journals. The candles flickered wildly as the door shut, disturbing the air.

"Sit down." Snape said softly, invitingly, indicating the chair. Harry nodded meekly and took a seat as the other man left the room. It was odd, Harry decided, how even though he had no changed perspective regarding his former arch nemesis, that he was actually quite comfortable sitting in Snape's study, it seemed a lot cosier than the last times he remembered sitting in it. So maybe they were right, maybe they were all right and they had been good friends. Harry had doubted it, because many people could have said that he and Dean had been good friends in school, when in fact they hardly did a thing together, only really spoke when they were in the dormitory. So maybe he and Snape had been more than just an aquaintence and some dormant part of his brain was picking up on that, was filtering something back to him in order for him to feel adjusted. His heart started to thud, could things …?

"I was about to come up." The familiar voice jolted him from his musings. Harry looked round. "I thought that maybe Albus would be down again, but it looks as though he's left you to fend for yourself." He gave Harry a brief smile then concentrated on stoppering the vial in his hands.

Harry remained silent.

"I have to admit," Snape went on, "That I was surprised to find you outside my door." He glanced up at Harry, "I know that if roles had been reversed, I sure as hell wouldn't be here now." He finished with the vial and placed it in front of Harry on the desk as he moved round it to sit down. Harry couldn't help but notice the slightly hard edge to the man's voice. Silence resumed, with flickering shadows the only thing to reasonably occupy Harry's attention as he pondered just how long he should stay. But he was curious despite himself, he wanted to know, to learn, to catch up on all he'd lost, and apparently his best friend was sat across from him.

He looked at Snape, at Severus, who eyes were averted from him. He looked tired, he looked defeated, but most of all, he looked human, with his sleeves rolled up and one hand in his hair as he leaned against the desk, his other hand tapped out a repeated pattern against the littered unmarked assignments. He looked just as lost as Harry, and suddenlt he had a horrifying rush of empathy for the man. He'd lost his best friend. Harry had never really considered his life without Ron, but he could remember those times when they'd fallen out, had a tiff. He could remember the utter frustration of losing something so integral to your life, and for some reason or another Harry found himself apologising.

Snape looked up, "I'm sorry?"

"I said, I'm sorry." Harry repeated, he rubbed at his eyes so he could focus a little better, "They all told me we were friends, but I didn't believe them, I didn't want to believe them," He looked across at him, "I'm sure you can understand why," Snape smiled briefly, "But I just don't know what's going on anymore or who or what to believe, and it's just so fucking hard." Harry was mortified to hear his voice break.

He looked across the desk, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. "I just don't know what to do, I want it all to go away, but it's here and its real and I don't know what to do." He trailed of, unable to say anything more for fear of breaking down entirely, he sniffed loudly and watched his own hand as it played with the edge of the desk.

"Let me help you." Snape's reply was so soft Harry barely heard him. He nodded blindly. He didn't care anymore, didn't care that this was Snape, the same man who bullied and degraded him for seven years, the man who somehow became his friend, he didn't care because he wanted to help.

"Thank you." He whispered, swallowing thickly round his emotions. "But I wouldn't even know where to start, I mean, st. Mundo's cant really help me, and that bloody counsellor seems so pointless…" he felt himself getting heated.

"I think it's best," Snape interjected, "That we keep you close to home, you need familiarity in order to gain some semblance of normality."Harry nodded in agreement, "And as for where to start, we can start right here." He gestured the vial on the desk, "I'm just as good as research as I am at teaching." Harry was going to point out that he didn't think Snape was very good at teaching at all, but he decided that given the fragile nature of their relationship at the moment he doubted that a comment like that would go down so well. Instead he nodded and supplied a weak smile, after all he knew Snape's reputation outside the teaching field, why else would he have been recruited onto the dark side.