It had been a while since Harry had last seen his wizarding friends, he mused as the last of them left his house after the farewell party. He was moving to Germany for his job, and though he could pop back over to England at any time it was nice to have an excuse to get his friends together.
Most of them were married, now, and several of them had children – Ron and Hermione's oldest was going to Hogwarts already, in fact. Harry himself was currently single, a recent relationship having come to a quiet end, and had no family to tie him to his mother country, so it seemed as good a time as any to move to another nation – thus why his company was sending him to Germany. He'd begun to spend more time in the Muggle world after the end of the war, even attending university for a time, and had come to appreciate the more sensible approach to life that Muggles tended to have. And if there was one stereotype about Germans, it was that they were sensible, so Harry hoped to feel comfortable in the foreign country.
Clearing away the dirty dishes with a few waves of his wand, Harry was grateful again for magic, having never really lost that appreciation of the power at his fingertips. People who grew up around magic just didn't value what a gift they had, and even most Muggleborns got used to being able to do nearly anything with a swish or a flick, but Harry never forgot, now, what power and ease magic gave him. He preferred to use it for simple things, now – a small project, simple chores, or the like – and spending most of his time around nonmagical people. He rather thought he'd enjoy being in a small German city with no magical contact.
Tübingen, the place was called: A small and very, very old University city in the south of Germany, quite close to France. Maybe he'd visit the other country while he was in the area. Plenty of time still for that, he figured as he put away the chairs, shrinking and packing the rest of his things and taking one last look around his bare living room. It was with a tiny smile that Harry went to bed that night, knowing that due to working with a Muggle company he'd have to take the plane to Germany tomorrow instead of travelling by magical means. It wouldn't be his first time on a plane, considering the few business trips he'd been on, and he did have to say that he preferred the large machine to Floo powder or portkeys. He still had the occasional nightmare involving the latter.
However, those were thoughts for another day, and the following day wasn't it, what with how focused Harry was on packing his things and reaching the airport safely. It was a far more tired man that finally let himself into the apartment that would serve as his new home for the foreseeable future, and Harry promptly took a nap. He wasn't sure why travelling by any means exhausted him so much, but he'd come to expect it by now.
After that, it didn't take long for him to settle into a routine of work, language lessons, personal projects and sightseeing, and Harry found himself feeling surprisingly comfortable in the traditional old city. It was a truly picturesque place to live, with the Neckar River flowing sedately past colorful old houses and sycamore trees, and Harry made friends with whom he would enjoy a beer or slice of cake depending on the time of day. Old houses lined the cobblestone streets, thin alleys winding through the city center and abundant hills encouraging the young man to walk more often than he took the bus. After a few years of living in London the quiet, small city was an abrupt change, and one he found himself liking very much, even if the guttural and harsh sounds of the language made it an occasionally frustrating place to live.
Several weeks passed before Harry decided to attend a Mass in the Stiftskirche, the gothic church perched in the middle of the city center. He had been inside it already, admiring architecture and paintings without other people present, but this Sunday there would be a choir accompanying the service, and Harry felt it was something he should at least experience once in his life. Being little religious himself, he had never felt the need to attend church – indeed, felt it would be a bit presumptuous of him – but several of his colleagues had assured him that a sung Mass was something to be enjoyed even if you weren't the religious sort.
And so he went.
He chose a seat in a bench somewhat off to the side, where he had a reasonable view of both the milling choir and the spot he thought the priest might occupy, and felt a small shiver of anticipation run through him. The choir members were talking quietly at the front of the church, and they were all dressed in black and white with rigid folders under their arms. As they talked they gradually moved into discernable positions, with the women standing in two rows in front of the men, and what he assumed was a conductor moved to stand before them.
An upsketch of the hands, and a breathless moment of silence – and then a glorious burst of sound filled the church, dozens of voices blending and reverberating within the large space. Harry didn't understand a word that passed from those many lips, but as the priest and his entourage slowly proceeded down the aisle he felt a deep appreciation that he had come.
All too soon the song ended and the priest spoke, the gravity of foreign words touching Harry in a way that was different from the music, yet complemented it in some intangible way. As someone who had never been to church before he mimicked the actions of the people around him, wondering whether it was appropriate for him to do so when he didn't even know what was being said but knowing himself well enough to admit that he'd never lost that wish to fit in.
Before long the priest bowed his head and Harry turned his gaze to the choir in anticipation, already seeing the conductor nod – and froze in shock as a familiar voice filled the silence.
"Gloria in excelsis deo," a lone voice preceded the rest of the choir, the other singers joining in with a strong burst of sound, but Harry's gaze was rooted on a single figure among the choir.
He had changed, was Harry's numb thought as he took in the tall figure of Severus Snape. The formerly lank, black hair was entirely grey, cut short in a swirling hairstyle that suited the pale man far more than the long locks ever had. A white shirt and black vest was all Harry could see of the man's clothing, though he didn't doubt the trousers would be black as well, considering the dress code, and Harry watched numbly as the man sang, holding his music aloft and his eyes fixed on the conductor. Despite the distance Harry could clearly recognize the man's face, now, and found himself further shocked when his former Potions professor smiled at the end of the song.
He'd thought him dead.
Oh, perhaps a part of him had always hoped that the unlikely hero had survived Nagini's bite when the body couldn't be found, but mostly he had thought that the man had just found one last burst of strength to take him to somewhere he'd rather die. To see him now, singing in a German church… Harry would wonder if it weren't just a lookalike if not for the voice. He'd never heard anyone with a voice quite like Snape's.
He spent the entire Mass staring at the tall figure, watching that familiar mouth enunciate as clearly as ever, letting glorious notes spill forth to the vaulted ceiling and curving into a smile with the end of each piece. It seemed the snake bite to the neck hadn't impaired the wizard's ability to sing.
By the end of the service Harry had entered a strange state of dazed tranquility, and only roused himself when others began to file out of the church. The choir was singing a last piece, and Harry felt slightly disconnected from his body as he rose to leave, all his attention still fixed on the tall singer. And then, just as he was about to turn – dark eyes met his, and the tenor visibly faltered, staring incredulously at the man who had once been his student.
Harry didn't know how long they remained that way, gazes locked to the exclusion of all else, but finally he exhaled in a tiny sigh and inclined his head in a slow nod before turning and leaving the church. He felt a stunned gaze on his back all the way out, and paused briefly at the exit of the church, squinting at the sudden glare before stepping out onto the cobblestones. He wouldn't be telling anyone about this, he thought as he stepped into the sunlit square, moving slowly away from the church where the last few notes of song rang out. It was enough to know the man alive and well. It was enough.