The next morning, Harry set off to the park in his brand new workout clothes, freshly laundered. The walk took less time on this excursion, since he was headed there with a purpose rather than meandering with Hermione. He went immediately to the exercise yard and the bar he'd been doing hanging sit-ups on the last time. It was still early enough that there were only a few people around, most walking the path with little yipping dogs that sniffed at everything they passed. Harry didn't think most of the adults would be out for another hour, and he wouldn't hear the distant screams of joy and laughter from the children's park through the trees and across the lawn until about 10.

Even so, Harry kept a weather eye for the familiar lanky black hair and cocky height that he was sure would be matched by a dark sneer and hooked nose. Glancing around, he grabbed the bar and lifted his feet to swing over. His shirt was fitted enough he didn't need to remove it this time. He crossed his legs at the ankle, hooking his feet against each other, and released the bar. With a quiver of his stomach muscles, he let his upper body fall in a slow arc as he put his hands behind his head. With another surreptitious glance around what he could see of the upside-down park path, he started his first fifty-set. With every down stroke, he watched the park slowly fill as the sun rose over the trees. He never spotted his prey.

When his fifty reps were finished, he moved to the rudimentary rowing machine and started on the two hundred reps he wanted to complete. His ultimate goal was to manage twenty chin-ups by the end of summer. He wasn't anywhere near that. His attempt two days ago had shown how out of shape he was. Hermione, when he'd told her of his plans over ice cream, had laughed. His body was apparently well-shaped, in her opinion. It hadn't mattered that he argued physical fitness over appearance, she just laughed him off and said he was too self-conscious.

In his concentration of counting reps and thinking about his friend, Harry didn't notice the stern posture of the might-be Snape until he was halfway around the concrete path, again with his back to him. When Harry did finally spot the raven-haired mystery waltzing ever-so-calmly in black pants, blacker sneakers, and a smart white button-down, he froze on the row machine at 196. He looked at his new watch Hermione's mum had bought him. It was closing on 8am. He looked back up and realized the would-be Snape had vanished from view.

"Damn," He muttered darkly.

The lone Gryffindor released the handles of the equipment and slid back as the metal components reset. He stood up and decided he would skip the rest of his workout. Merlin knew why, but satisfying his curiosity took sudden precedence. It wasn't the torturous, driving need he'd felt from the dream the day before, but it still mattered dearly to him. And, being bullheaded as he was, it didn't matter at all to him why it was so important. He jogged across the wide expanse of grass between him and the path where he'd last seen Might-Be Snape.

The sidewalk veered around a large grove of bushes, one of several around the park, and when he came around the corner he spotted his prey a fair distance out. Prudence, small though it was, kept him from jogging after the man and screaming Snape's name. If it was the Potions Master, it would look incredibly stupid, and if it wasn't, he'd look like an even bigger ass. Instead, he slowed his pace to match the long stride of the man and simply followed him. Reason dictated that he'd have to look around eventually, and when Harry's curiosity was satisfied he could return to his workout. Might-be Snape would be none the wiser that he'd been followed, and Harry would have an answer.

For the next hour, Harry walked the path, round and round the park, always expecting his quarry to turn. Never once did the man even pause to tie a shoe. Harry, who had never spent this much time dedicated to any task that didn't involve studying or cleaning, quickly grew bored and broke off. His frustration aside, he didn't have it in him to be patient any longer. Instead he went back to the exercise yard and did fifty more reps on the low bar, working off his frustration. By the time he had done, Might-be Snape had vanished. Harry watched for him for several minutes, but he never reappeared on the path. The stubborn Gryffindor allowed a brief moment where he considered searching for the man, but gave it up even before the thought had fully crossed his mind. It was a lost cause, and he'd just have to try again tomorrow. It was already later than he'd told Hermione he would be.

Still frustrated, and certain Hermione would be worried, he jogged all the way back to his friend's house. By the time he reached her street, his legs were on fire and his jog had slowly slipped into a slow trudge. He walked into the house gasping for breath and ready to let his trembling legs collapse under him. Hermione looked up from the book she'd been reading on the couch.

"Did you run back?" She asked, laughing. "You look like you tried to outrun a Manticore."

Harry smiled, sucking air as quickly as he dispelled it. "Sorry…I'm late…Got…Distracted."

"I wasn't bothered," Hermione shrugged. "You didn't run all the way back just for me, did you?"

Harry nodded, grabbing a stitch in his side. "Didn't…want…to worry…you."

Hermione giggled, standing up and walking towards him. "Oh, Harry, don't be silly, I know you can take care of yourself; and I know how easily distracted you are. Make you a deal. From now on, as long as you're back by lunch I won't call out a search party, okay?" She kissed his moist forehead before scrubbing her lips. "Ew, sweat. Why don't you shower and I'll make us an early lunch?"

Harry grinned. "How about I shower and then I make us an early lunch?"

"I'm not that bad of a cook."

The Wizarding Savior raised a dubious eyebrow. "Right, and I don't smell."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Well…you don't smell that bad."

Eyebrow still lifted precariously, Harry lifted his arms and started moving towards his friends. "Is that right? So you wouldn't mind a smelly, sweaty bear hug then?" Hermione started to back away. "Since I don't smell that bad, like you said."

"Harry James, don't you dare."

"Come on, Rabbit, s'just a hug!" Harry cried, using the nickname Hermione's dad used. He sped up, moving towards his friend who squealed and dodged him as he tried to wrap his arms around her.

In seconds he was chasing her around her parents' living room, laughing as she squealed in delight and terror. When he finally caught her in his arms she screamed laughter and struggled futilely in his grasp. He bellowed laughter as she beat at him with open palms.

"Harry James, you put me down this instant!" She shrieked, still laughing.

"Say it, 'Mione!"

"Fine!" She giggled. "You can cook lunch, just let me go!"

Harry set her back on her feet and backed away as she smacked his chest, both of them still laughing. "Good. Now I can shower without the fear that I'm going to my last meal."

Hermione gaped at him, amused and affronted at the same time, and suddenly it was her chasing him, batting playfully at his head and shoulders. He darted up the stairs and into the bathroom, laughing wildly all the while. He was still laughing as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower head. Snape was, for now, completely forgotten. In fact, for the next few days, Harry barely recalled his curiosity, too busy with calculating how much work he had to do to work off the money Hermione's dad had given him. He couldn't bring his concern to Hermione, knowing what she would say. Instead, he set about the task himself, mentally preparing meals to serve, and cataloguing the chores he could do before Hermione remembered that they were her job. For nearly a week, he followed Might-be Snape around the path of the park distractedly, breaking off sooner and sooner when his persistence gained no result. Mostly, he couldn't recall why the man had mattered in the first place. It was, after all, such a small thing.