When Harry had done at Gringotts, he moved further to the back of the Alley. His wallet had the brand new addition of a gold card that was useful in both worlds, the Wizarding equivalent of a Muggle bank card. In actuality, it was a bank card, but the Goblin who had been executor of his estate had rattled off some ridiculous name for it that Harry was pretty sure had been half Gobbledygook. He'd also been given a book of bank notes that would stop him having to carry so much gold around. The bank card and checkbook had come with a whopping pile of responsibility, as the meeting had been the Goblin informing him of his estate and holdings, and then signing said things over to him entirely.

Deciding to begin his shopping at the Apothecary, as it was nearest, and work his way back towards the start of the Alley, Harry made his way to the out-of-the-way shop that almost bordered Knockturn Alley. As he stepped inside, a small bell tinkled over the door. The counter, within eyesight of the doorway, spoke distantly.

"Welcome," The counter, or rather someone ducked behind it, said. "Let us know if you need help finding anything." This statement was followed promptly by the aging proprietor straightening and moving behind a door at the back, removing himself from helping distance.

Harry chuckled at the oddity he'd come to associate with the Wizarding World and started to browse the aisles of ingredients. His cauldron was still in good form, but he was low on some things. He pulled a list out of his pocket, drawing it from the grasp of his school letter, and unfolded it. A voice behind him made him pause as he looked through his list for the ingredients he needed.

"I did not think you were in Potions this year, Mister Potter."

The Gryffindor turned with a blush, tucking his school letter into his pocket, to see Snape standing behind him. "I'm not," He admitted. "But I still need some ingredients. It's always good to have the basics for emergencies. Having the stuff to make healing potions means I won't spend half the year in the Hospital Wing."

Snape smirked. "An admirable sense of preparedness. Do not let me stop you, Mister Potter."

Harry half-turned, turned back to say what, he didn't know, then turned around again and began looking at his list. He moved through the aisles, filling the available jars with the ingredients he needed and placing them in a basket from the front of the shop. He was uniquely aware of Snape following him through the shop, but didn't know what to say. Finally, as he was stopped and deciding if really needed more wormwood, Snape spoke.

"Lavender suits you. How did it go with the executor?"

The question was so soft Harry hardly heard it. He looked up and realized the clerk had returned to the desk. At first, he thought the Potions Master was referring to his fellow Gryffindor, but he smiled appreciatively when he remembered the shirt he'd chosen for his bank meeting. He spoke just as softly, still staring at the ingredients in front of him but no longer seeing them.

"Thanks. It was…terrifying."

"How so?"

"Turns out I'm now the executor of my estate. Now that I know exactly what that entails, I have no idea what I'm going to do. I may not be as rich as the Malfoys, but that's still an awful lot of money and property to put solely in the hands of a seventeen year old," Harry explained, furrowing his brow. "Do I need wormwood?"

A glance revealed Snape's smirk back in place as the man pretended to browse slightly down the aisle from him. "It's useful in most antidotes. So, knowing you, absolutely." A pause as Harry filled a jar with the dark roots, then, "You can return to Gringotts and ask to speak with a bank manager. They'll accommodate you, considering the Potter fortune you've inherited, and you can then ask to be assigned an estate manager. Or you can hire one yourself, but I don't recommend that for someone as trusting as you are. It's not quite an executor, you'll still be in charge of all final decisions, but they'll field the majority of the petty day-to-day nuisances; such as the people seeking a hand-out that you mentioned on your birthday."

"Well, that's useful information the Goblins could have given me while I was there," Harry muttered darkly. "Thanks."

Snape gave a slow nod. "I will see you at the school, Mister Potter."

Harry watched curiously as the man left without buying anything. He wondered idly if Snape had somehow been waiting for him, but tossed the thought aside. How could the man have known he would come to the apothecary at all, since he wasn't in Potions? It was possible he'd followed Harry in, but since Harry hadn't heard the bell he dismissed that as well. And never mind how ludicrous the idea of Snape waiting for him was, it simply didn't make sense. He couldn't have known Harry would come here, and certainly couldn't have ensured he'd be alone.

Finished with his shopping, and wondering why he kept making so much of Snape's presence, Harry went to the counter. Whether accidental or coincidental, it didn't matter. He'd offered up better advice than anyone else might have. Despite his misgivings about returning to Gringotts, certain it would come with more difficult decisions, Harry knew that was his next stop. He couldn't possibly be expected to manage his estate wholly on his own, and it wasn't as if he had parents to turn to in moments of doubt. A manager sounded like it was just the ticket he needed.

-Break-

The return to Gringotts in search of a manager had indeed been filled with further decisions. He'd been assigned the most personable Goblin, by far, that he'd ever met, though, and it had made things run remarkably smooth. Seeming to sense his discomfort with the entire situation, the Goblin, Pellish, had limited his decisions to a monthly allowance (that wound up far exceeding his needs), and a tentative agreement on how to handle charitable requests. These apparently always came with the inheritance of old money. The rest, Pellish had said, could wait until it needed to be addressed. That was, after all, what the owl post was for.

Harry met Hermione at the ice cream shop for lunch, where they each ordered dishes drowned in sugar. Except for coffee and cereal, sugar was one of the few things the Grangers disapproved of, and Harry was glad to have some after a full summer almost entirely without. They chose a table outside, basking in the sunlight, since there was little of it back at the house. Harry was immensely grateful, as they sat down, that the rain had yet to touch London.

"How much of your shopping did you get done?" Hermione asked, digging into her ice cream.

Harry shrugged. "Not much at all," He said, poking at his own treat. "The bank took longer than I'd hoped, and I had to go back, which took even longer. I've still got to get my books, owl treats, and my robes. I was thinking of going to Gladrags this year, since I can apparently afford it now, but…Madame Malkin's always done my robes, and I trust her not to make me look like a peacock. Plus, there's really no point in spending so much on robes I won't wear again after this term. Also, I promised Fred and George we'd stop by there shop while we're here."

Hermione nodded, licking her spoon clean. "Well, I've done everything but my robes, so maybe I'll just join you and we can go together. Where do you want to go first?"

"Flourish and Blotts," Harry answered immediately. "I want to get my school texts, obviously, but I also want to look and see if they have anything else I might be interested in. Defense, maybe, or even some fiction."

Hermione smirked over her ice cream. "Reading for the sake of doing so? Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

Harry chuckled appreciatively. "Hey, I can read if I want. I found I liked it, spending the summer with you. Besides, there's something else…I think I was reading in a dream."

Hermione giggled as Harry started to eat his own ice cream. "Now you're dreaming about reading? What have I done to you? Exercise, healthy eating habits, reading…the others will think I've switched you out with Polyjuice."

"I think it's called personal growth, and I've done a lot of that this summer," Harry said a little proudly. "Anyway, you've-"

"Harry, is that Snape?"

The Gryffindor shifted to look where she was staring. It was indeed the Potions Master. He was casually browsing a selection of fresh herbs in front of a shop not far from Fortescue's patio. Snape glanced up and black met green through the Alley's milling crowd. Before Harry could make anything of it, the man turned and started walking down Diagon Alley with his back to them. Harry turned back to his ice cream.

"Yup."

Hermione furrowed her brow, still staring after their dark professor. "You know, seeing him from this angle…I guess that man in the park did look an awful lot like him." She turned back to Harry. "Did you ever see that man again? You were there practically every day."

Without knowing why, the Savior of the Wizarding World lied to his best friend. "I saw him once or twice."

"Was it Snape?"

"I think I would've told you if it had been," Harry said, not looking up. If he looked up, his eyes would give him away, as they always did.

He couldn't even begin to contemplate what had inspired him to keep his morning meeting with the man a secret, or what was causing him to lie now. Something, though, said he should keep to himself what had transpired on those warm mornings over coffee. Hermione persisted.

"But what if it was Snape?" She asked. "Wouldn't that be odd, that I lived so close to a wizard, a teacher no less, my whole life and didn't know it? Makes me wonder what his house would be like. Would he live with Muggle means, or Wizarding? Ooh, or a combination of both, like at Grimmauld."

Harry smirked into his ice cream as he recalled his and Snape's game on the bench. It would boggle his friend's mind, if she knew how many witches and wizards lived in her neighborhood. He couldn't say this, though, without mentioning his secret mornings.

"I dunno, maybe…I don't really want to talk about Snape, or how he lives outside of Hogwarts," The Wizarding Savior said, clearing his throat.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I know you hate him."

"I don't, actually," Harry said before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat again when his friend gave him an odd look. "I've decided not to hate Snape. I can't help who my prat of a father was, nor that he hates me for it, but I can make the choice not to share in his prejudice. No point in adding fuel to the fire."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "Wow, I guess you have done a lot of growing up this summer. So, if you don't hate him, why won't you talk about him?"

"Because I don't see the point. Neither of us knows anything about him, Hermione, so guessing about how he might live, if he lived in the Muggle World, near you or not, is pointless," Harry said.

Hermione sighed, but nodded. "That's true. And even if you don't hate him, I guess he'd still be a sore subject, considering what he's said to you over the years." She looked down the Alley to where Snape had been. "Oh, he's gone. Must've gone into a shop or something."

Harry shrugged, but didn't turn to look. The feeling of being watched was making the hair on his neck stand up, but he chose not to acknowledge that either. He poked at his ice cream, which was beginning to melt in its glass bowl.

"We'll see him at the school."