Harry did indeed see Snape upon his return to the school. For three weeks he saw him at the Head Table, and randomly in the corridors. He did not speak with the man, nor did the Potions Master make an effort to speak to him. The return to the school seemed to herald a return to old habits, as they were as dismissive of one another as they had ever been for. Snape, as much as Harry, did not seem prepared to address the summer's strange camaraderie. Until one day, he did.
Harry awoke to an owl tapping at the window near his bed. He got up a little reluctantly, noting that it was still a while before sunrise, and moved to let the insistent bird in. Neville, who had involuntarily switched beds with Ron at the start of the year, stirred.
"What is it?" The boy grumbled groggily.
Harry shushed him. "Go back to sleep." He didn't know for sure who the owl was meant for, but he saw no reason to rouse any of his dorm mates. The owl would likely give up it's burden to him, and he could place it on the necessary nightstand to wait for a more reasonable hour.
"M'kay, Harry." Neville rolled over and fell immediately back to sleep.
Harry opened the window and the Eagle Owl fluttered in, dropping the note it had clenched in its beak on top of Harry's ruffled bedding before alighting on top of his four-poster and surveying the room. Harry picked up the note and frowned at the short message.
Coffee?
The Gryffindor thought of the morning ritual he'd established with the Head of Slytherin over the summer. A part of him wondered petulantly if he should even reply, since they had hardly spared one another a side-long glance since his return to the school. The rest of him knew that he had been just as contemptuous of the Potions Master when they passed silently in the corridors. He grabbed the self-inking quill he kept near his bedside and flipped the torn piece of parchment to its blank side.
Sure.
He held the note out to the Eagle Owl above him. It was quickly snatched up in the sharp beak. Harry turned to getting dressed as the owl swept back out of the window. He found the workout clothes from his time at Hermione's and pulled them on. By the time he'd done cinching his tennis shoes, the owl had returned with a reply.
Front steps.
Harry pocketed the missive and dug an owl treat out of his trunk. He gave the bird the treat before tip-toeing out of the dorm room as quietly as possible. Even in the empty common room, he continued to walk quietly towards the portrait. It was still early enough that the House Elves hadn't come yet to relight the fire in the massive grate, and without it the Tower had an eerie, deserted feel. He opened the portrait carefully, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping Fat Lady in her frame, and closed the portrait just as softly. As soon as the entrance was shut tight, he made for broke down the corridor, his footfalls echoing in the silent, grey light of the castle before dawn. The moving staircases, he was pleased to find, were much more cooperative without anyone else to pull at their magic, and he soon found himself on the marble steps in the Entrance Hall. Thinking himself home free, Harry froze when he heard an accusatory meow behind him just as he stepped off the last marble stair. He turned, praying to see McGonagall's animagus form, and saw Filch and his cat standing idly by the main entrance to the dungeons. He groaned. Didn't the man ever sleep?
"Well, look what we have here, Mrs. Norris. A student out of bounds."
Harry swallowed thickly. "I, uh…" What could he say? Snape's note was still in his pocket, but it wasn't as if he'd signed his name. It would make for a lame excuse, and Harry knew it.
Filch tsked delightedly. "You are in trouble now, Mist-"
"Potter."
Filch turned sharply, and Harry looked to see Snape climbing the last steps from the dungeons. Harry wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or not. Neither note had said anything about not getting caught, but Harry knew Snape was the sort to simply expect compliance without instruction. He watched with trepidation as Snape approached them. Onyx eyes eyed him carefully, and Harry straightened in defiance.
"I've caught Potter out of bounds, Professor. Apparently, this one thinks he's too good for the rules."
Snape turned from staring at Harry to sneer at the waifish caretaker. "Potter is here at my behest."
Filch looked understandably stunned. "But, Professor, the rules-"
"Do not apply to professors, and may be circumvented by students with permission," Snape interrupted pointedly. "You may go, Mister Filch."
The caretaker looked disappointed at missing a chance to have a student punished. He sent Harry a dark glare before walking past Snape to the dungeons. Harry frowned as Snape joined him, and together they moved towards the grand doors at the other end of the Entrance Hall.
"Thanks," The Gryffindor murmured uncomfortably.
Snape grunted and drew his wand. With a silent flick, the intricate lock on the doors began to disengage. Harry watched as gears and cogs moved and clicked. When the last bolt had slid free of it's chamber, Snape stepped forward and pushed one giant wing open. Harry followed hastily as the door tried to swing shut again. He shivered in the cool predawn air. The sun was only now making it's final push towards the reddening horizon, lightening the rest of the sky to a ghostly, silver hue.
"Cold?" Snape asked in his silky baritone.
Harry nodded, hugging his arms as another, sharper shiver arched up his spine. "Mm-hm."
Snape snapped his fingers. With a small 'pop', a House Elf appeared with a burnished silver tray carrying two mugs of coffee. Snape took the burdensome cups, and the Elf popped away again with a snap of its own fingers. Harry took the plain black mug he was offered and let the heat warm his hands as he blew on the hot black liquid within. He followed as Snape started down the steps. The Potions Master waited for him at the bottom, and together they walked further out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.
They were both silent and contemplative for a time, but as they neared the Black Lake, Harry spoke.
"I got a manager," He started carefully. "He made it clear that I still have a lot of responsibilities regarding my dual inheritance, but…it's easier with help. Easier knowing I have someone who knows what they're doing if I get lost or stuck."
"I am pleased that you took my advice," Snape said evenly.
Harry smiled. "I'd have been a dunderhead if I hadn't."
He grinned when Snape smirked at him. "You said it, Mister Potter, not I."
Harry kept his silence for a short time as they walked the edge of the lake's rocky beach.
"So," He said at last. "What is it that teachers do in the two weeks before term that they have to cut their holiday short?"
The smirk remained. "Admittedly, not much," Snape answered honestly. "It is mostly boring staff meetings where we cover the same material we cover every year, rope memorization of the 'banned items' list, and reviewing the same lesson plans we've used since we began teaching. And, in the event that they arrive when they're meant to, we meet any new hires, such as Miss Ailin Achesan, your Defense professor. Certain responsibilities become easier over the years, leaving most of the two weeks as time to carouse around the castle; specifically, memorizing the 'banned items' list has become easier in recent years, ever since the Weasley twins put an umbrella name over their products."
Harry chuckled, imagining his strict, astringent professors doing any sort of 'carousing'. "Well, since it's made life easier for the professors of Hogwarts, I guess I can't feel too guilty for funding the twins' shop."
"So it was you," Snape accused lightly. "There's been some debate about that amongst the staff. Some believe they funded it with sales, others that one of their older brothers cosigned a loan. I laid my bet on you, and your winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, since the money vanished while you were in the Infirmary."
"Hit the nail on the head," Harry admitted amiably. "I didn't know what else I was supposed to do with the money. I certainly didn't need it, and I didn't want it, because it felt like blood money. After what I'd just witnessed, in the graveyard and in faux-Moody's office, I thought the world could use a few laughs on me."
Snape looked at him curiously. "You speak of that evening's horrors so easily. A lesser man would be terrified by the memory alone."
"Then I'd live my life in terror," Harry said, frowning. "I don't mean to sound like it doesn't still affect me. I'm haunted daily by everything I've witnessed over the years, but I don't let it get to me. I know that doesn't make sense, but it's the only way I know of how to put it. I try to leave the past where it belongs, and let myself revel in the life I witness from day to day. Call me self-serving, but I like to think I helped put some of that happiness there."
"Call you self-serving, Potter?" Snape repeated with a smirk. "I wouldn't dare."
They shared a sly look and Harry laughed openly, remembering the many times the Potions Master had called him that and worse. It felt good to really laugh, and when he'd settled he delighted in the silence that followed. It had felt good to laugh, but it felt even better to laugh about something that should have torn apart their camaraderie. Despite how long Snape's verbal abuse had gone on, it seemed distant, like the memories belonged to someone else. The Snape with a sharp and biting tongue was not the man beside him, and nor was Harry the quick-tempered, distrusting brat he had been. It was a difference Harry felt deep in his bones, and he was unaccountably glad for it. In spite of all the responsibilities he'd inherited over the summer, it was this realization that made him truly feel like an adult wizard.