Thank you for following along thus far. I love you all & there's something I didn't want to bring up, but given the rec's & response this fic has gotten on FB, I have to or it's going to keep bugging me. Please understand, this is not a demand or plea for reviews, but I would like to ask if readers do have the time, drop a simple word of encouragement. Here's the thing, as the story progresses, I look at the read count, and it's pretty level across the board, so the same number of people are keeping up with the story, but with each chapter fewer reviews come in. I hate to think it, but it feels like "Freya's going to update no matter what, so she doesn't 'need' encouragement." And I'm not alone, many writers see this trend. While, yes, I'll always update when I have a chapter ready, and my inspiration is not dependent on reviews, when writers see readers enjoying the story, it helps, just a bit, to keep the writer in love with that story. It doesn't have to be fancy, it doesn't have to be something profound that delves deep into the chapter, it can just be a quick sentence that lets the writer know you're there and appreciate them. It can be what your fav scene or line was. So, if you read something—anything, not just my work, but anyone's—consider spending the minute it would take to do so leaving them just a few words of encouragement.

Additionally, the worst kept secret in fanfiction is that some readers gauge whether a story is worth their time based on its review count. When you encounter a story you love & you're like "this is amazing, why haven't I heard of this?" more often than not it's because a bunch of people glossed over the story due to its review count not meeting their standards (& also inevitably falls prey to 'last-chapter-only' reviews that usually read "this is amazing, why doesn't it have more reviews?" ️I mean, it's still a review & you let the writer know you liked their story, but when you've got 30 chapters & the bulk of the readers wait until that last chapter to say anything, first-glance is that not many people enjoyed it enough to say anything, you see?).

If you want to help a fanfic author you love share their story with more people, yes, rec' it, yes, rave about it on FB or wherever your social media preference may be, and leave those reviews if you have a chance, even if all you can think to say is 'good chapter,' or 'thank you.' You have no idea how much it will mean to that writer. :)


Chapter Nine

The Harm in Reminiscing

James couldn't feel his gums. Licking his lips, he peered into his glass. Bugger it all, the blasted thing was empty again. How did that keep happening?

He should've realized Remus was talking about his own flat. The Tonks house was where his son was sleeping, and the werewolf, of course, didn't want 'Dora's mum to see him getting pissed. Harry was living at Grimmauld Place now, full-time, so if they really wanted to be able to speak on things that might upset Harry, that was also not an option.

"Is my face still on my skull?"

Remus looked over from where he was reclined, upside-down on the armchair, his head dangling against the edge of the seat cushion and his long legs bent at the knees over the top of the chair's back. "Tha's a stupid question. Where else would it be?"

"Fucked if I know. I was only checking, 'cause I think it's gone numb."

Remus sputtered a laugh. "Wait, wait. You were saying something else."

"I was?"

Remus nodded. "I believe you got distracted with counting your teeth."

"Oh, right. They're all there, by the way."

"Yay!"

"Anyway . . . ." James sighed, staring into his abysmally empty glass once more. "I'm not wrong, am I? For feeling this way?"

"Not at all." Remus shook his head and just as quickly stopped, clapping his hands against his temples. "Well, that wasn't wise. Okay. I think you should've told Harry."

"He said—"

"He said not to do anything about it, that doesn't mean you can't come clean with him about just how angry it makes you to know how mistreated he was. I don't think he can really understand how it feels to be a parent hearing something like that happening to a child—a good parent, because Lord knows the Dursleys wouldn't recognize good parenting if it bit them on their useless arses. He never said you had to keep it to yourself, he never said he didn't want to hear how you feel about it all. He only asked that you not 'do' anything."

James uttered a hmph at the reminder. He'd already gone into great, vivid detail about precisely how he'd like to hurt Vernon Dursley, he wasn't sure how much more alleviating talking about it all again could be.

"Although . . . ."

Arching a brow, James echoed the word. "Although."

Remus shifted to sit up and immediately pressed a hand against his face. "Merlin's beard, remind me to stop moving so fast."

"Did you ever notice Dumbledore looked like Merlin? You think he did that on purpose?"

Stroking his stubbled chin in thought, Remus frowned. "I think just maybe he did. Anyway, as I was saying—"

"Well, that's annoying. We keep getting sidetracked from what we're saying."

The werewolf only looked at him for a moment, blinking slow. "And each time it's been your fault, now shut it. As I'd been saying, the promise Harry had you make to him, I think he had a specific idea in mind about what 'anything' entailed."

James set his glass down on the coffee table and peeled himself off the sofa. Crossing the small living room space, he took a seat on the coffee table, facing Remus directly. "Go on."

Remus shrugged. "Think about it. He knows you weren't exactly the quiet, let shit pass peacefully sort when you were his age. He likely meant he didn't want you harming his aunt and uncle on account of his past."

"That much I did catch by myself, thanks."

Rolling his eyes, Remus again shook his head—this time it was a careful, calculated movement, however. "No, no. God you really can be so thick. Wha' I mean is Harry didn't want you to hurt them, but there's nothing to stop you, then, from talking to them and making it clear that if harm ever befalls your son from this day forward, they will pay in kind."

James sat up a little straighter as that sank in. "You know, it might actually assuage my anger a little if I could see that spark of fear in that great, ruddy-faced beast's eyes."

"There you go. You'll not have harmed them, you'll get some of your emotions out of your system, and you'll ensure you'd done what you can to protect Harry from them in the future."

As he considered that, James fell quiet. Well, quiet until Remus sputtered a chuckle.

His jet brows pinching together, James couldn't help a smile at the sound. "What?"

Remus waved a hand in front of his face as he tried to keep his laughter stifled so he could explain. "I was just . . . I was just thinking that they don't know you're not dead! Can you imagine the looks on their faces if you just pop up on their doorstep?"

His hazel eyes widening, James played out that notion in his head. Sooner than he could stop himself, he burst out laughing. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to just Apparate and pop up at their table as they're sitting down to dinner!"

Remus doubled over where he sat, laughing harder even as he tried to catch his breath.

By the time they'd both settled down, wiping their eyes with the backs of their hands, Remus was calmed enough to form words again. "God, I don't think I realized how much I missed you until just now."

"Maybe we should get some ice packs prepared for the morning. We're not teenagers, anymore; I expect we'll be nursing some spectacular hangovers when we wake up."

"Makes you miss our Hogwarts days."

James smiled, the look in his eyes a bit distant for a moment. "I always miss our Hogwarts days. Life was so . . . so . . . ."

"Simple?"

"Yes!" James nodded, but his smile lost just a bit of its brightness. "I almost got in trouble a few times, I think."

"Almost? Bloody hell, you and Sirius were the terrors of that school and everyone knew it. Lily and I were just along for the ride." Even drunk, they both knew better than to bring up Peter's name.

James snickered and shook his head. "That's not what I—" He froze up, appearing to realize he'd said something he shouldn't have. "Never mind."

"Prongs?" Remus' gaze, bleary and intoxicated as it was, searched his friend's face. "What are you talking about?"

"I said never mind. It's nothing."

Letting out a weary sigh, Remus hung his head. "Who the hell else are you going to talk to about these things? We're each, literally, the only person the other one has to reminisce with this way."

James winced, chewing his lip for a few heartbeats before he finally caved. Damn that werewolf's eyes! "It's about you."

Remus' shoulders drooped. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Alternating between nodding and shaking his head, James went on. "Makes the thought of talking to you about it a bit awkward. You'll likely end up taking your own side."

"Now I don't know if I'm curious or concerned."

Sputtering a laugh, James said, "Oh, shut up. Fine. I'll tell you." Clearing his throat, he dropped his gaze to the floor. "When you and Sirius first became involved, I was . . . jealous."

Eyes widening a little, Remus tipped his head slowly to one side. "What?"

"Can I stop now?"

"No, no! You can't . . . you can't just say something like that and then stop without explaining further, Prongs!"

"You're evil making me talk about this, ya bastard." James slumped a little, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"Go on, already!"

"Bastard."

Remus folded his arms across his chest, his jaw setting as he waited.

James uttered a scoffing sound. "I hate you."

His brows inching upward, Remus pursed his lips and went right on waiting.

"Fine." Leaning forward a little where he sat, James propped his elbows on his knees and braced his chin against his palms. "You have to remember, Sirius was my best friend. This was before Lily and I got, well, 'serious', you know nothing really happened there until later, anyway—she sort of hated me at first." He paused, laughing at the memory before his expression sobered again. "I wasn't really used to sharing him. And I thought I didn't mind, because you all were seeing exactly the same person I was. You were friends with exactly the same person I was. And then . . . he started looking at you in this way I'd never seen before. And I remember actually thinking, 'why doesn't he look at me like that?'"

Sympathy shown in Remus' eyes. "Isn't that sort of thing only natural, though?"

"Is it?" Frowning, James shook his head. "There were days . . . I was so selfish. You were one of my best friends in the world and I honestly adored you, but then Sirius would look at you like that and it would hit me, that gnawing jealousy. I'd actually feel like . . . like maybe I hated you, just a little."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but James wasn't done yet.

"I thought it was just because he was my best friend and I wasn't used to sharing him, just as I said. I thought my jealousy was only based in this dynamic you and he had that I wasn't part of. And I realized I wasn't just jealous of you for having him. I was jealous of him for having you."

Hearing those words, Remus suddenly became acutely aware of the beating of his own heart in his chest. "What?" his voice slipped out in a whisper.

James shrugged, his gaze far off, again. "It was like, I just . . . I don't know. I wanted you both all to myself, even though I knew that wasn't right. Even though I knew it was probably just me childishly wanting what I knew I couldn't have. Even though I knew that neither of you could look at me like that because you didn't see me like that, I still wanted it. See? Selfish."

Remus forced his gaze up, taking in James' face. Lily had made him so happy, it never occurred to him that in the time before that, James Potter could've felt that way.

He decided it might just be the alcohol—and the loneliness, and the absolute sea of unresolved feelings drowning them both since War's End—talking as he said, "Why did you never tell us? You absolute git!"

James brought his shocked attention back to Remus. "What?"

"You know Sirius would say those very words to you if he were sitting here right now."

Sighing, James gaped at the werewolf. "I don't . . . why would it have mattered? Neither of you saw me that way and it would've just made things awkward. I'd have ruined everything!"

Remus covered his mouth with his hand. After a moment, his fingers slipped from his face. "You know what? You were selfish, but not for the reasons you think."

Recoiling a little, James continued staring back at Remus. He was making his werewolf friend angry. That was always a good thing. "Okay, genius! Then tell me what it was?"

Those green eyes narrowed. "You were selfish for assuming you knew what other people thought! How the bloody hell would you know what went through our heads, or how we looked at you?"

"What are you talking about? You never—"

"Oh?" Remus shot forward in the chair, his face dangerously close to James' as he just about growled the words. "Sirius fancied you! God, you're so thick! He did. You are the one who never noticed, because you weren't looking at him 'like that' until things between him and me began to change."

James couldn't move. He felt utterly paralyzed by the revelation, by Remus' lashing out. By the awful clenching of his heart at not having noticed Sirius' feelings.

"I was the one there in front of him. I was the one afraid that when he kissed me, you were the one he thought of! You were one of my best friends, you were his best friend. I had no choice but to let it all go unsaid so I didn't upset anything between us all." Remus was speaking through clenched teeth by now and inwardly cringing over the truth-serum effect of alcohol. "So I started trying to understand what the hell he saw in you. What he thought was so bloody amazing about James Potter, and I hated myself for it—but what was new? I already had reasons to hate myself, so I just tossed it on the pile and locked it away with the rest. But as I watched you, trying to comprehend his feelings, I realized . . . . I did see it, too. He thought James Potter was so bloody amazing because he was." His voice was small, the anger seeming to wash out of him as he finished talking.

James found himself staring at his old friend, trying to grasp how he'd missed so much. Had he really been so unobservant? Oh, of course he had been! He was James Potter! And he only noticed what he wanted to!

Clamping his hand around the back of Remus' neck, he rested his forehead against the werewolf's as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I really was a selfish shit."

Remus was a little surprised by the gesture, but he didn't fight it. Instead, he snickered as he said, "Was?"

He became aware of James going very still. Became aware of James' breath warming his skin, causing it to tingle pleasantly. Of the fact that his breath was having the same effect on James.

Neither was sure which of them tipped his head, their lips meeting in a tentative kiss. There was an awareness of fingers curling into fabric, of one head tipping further, thrusting his tongue between the other's lips. The kiss was returned, feverishly, that thrusting tongue caressed, suckled at . . . .

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily as they stared at one another in surprise.

"This might not be the best time for this," James said, his airy whisper reasonable.

"Because I'm still in mourning."

Nodding, the jet-haired wizard offered, "And we're drunk."

"So drunk," Remus agreed with a laugh.

"And we're both dealing with unresolved emotions about the same witch."

Scoffing, Remus shook his head. "Shut up with that. I told you, I'm not—"

James' mouth covering his again for a quick moment cut off his words. "Stop denying it. It's not healthy."

Remus slumped where he sat. Even if he wanted to pursue something more than friendship with Hermione, just like whatever might've happened with James tonight if they both weren't so aware of all the reasons not to, he knew it was a question of time. He was still grieving. He had to give himself time to mourn, to move on from his loss on his own power, or anything that could happen with anyone 'new' would only be a distraction from that, and he wouldn't do that to either of them.

"Thinking we should sleep, and revisit whatever we remember about this . . . discussion—and I do mean the discussion part—in the morning, when we're nice and sober."

Remus nodded, slipping out of James' hold and standing. "But you're sleeping on the sofa."

"Ha-ha," James said with a grin as he moved to stretch out on the aforementioned piece of furniture. "As if I'd go to bed with anyone on the first night? It's like you don't know me at all!"


"Are you actually studying?"

Hermione gave a start late the next morning as she sat at one of Fortesque's outdoor tables, books open before her. Looking up, she saw a familiar, spindly figure in dark robes.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Professor?" he echoed, his expression uncertain. He gestured at the seat across from her. "May I? Or are you waiting for someone?"

"No, go ahead."

Severus settled himself across from her and looked over the books she'd gathered on the table. All were standard seventh year materials. "Why are you studying? I'll remind you Hogwarts is not open in the capacity of a functioning school at present, and won't be again until the start of term on 1st of September."

"Oh, I know," she said with a nod, going back to her note-taking. "I fully intend to return to Hogwarts in September."

His dark brows pinched upward. "Why would you? After your exploits over the last year, I don't believe there's anything more any institution of magical learning can teach you."

Her quill dropped from her fingers and she gaped up at him in disbelief.

"What?" he asked, his lip curling—he was frankly a little uncomfortable with her unabashed scrutiny.

"I just . . . I do believe that was the first time you've ever . . . . You just praised me."

He arched one of those dark eyebrows at her and then narrowed his eyes. "I did no such thing. I was merely speaking an observation."

"Mm-hmm. And anyway, it's strictly because I want the formality of completing my education there. Can't exactly do that if I don't attend." She returned her gaze to her studies, even as that know-it-all half-smile curved her lips. "I notice you questioned me referring to you as 'professor.'"

Severus shrugged, settling back in his chair. "Because I haven't been your teacher in nearly a year."

"You won't be returning to your teaching post at Hogwarts, will you?"

"I don't believe so, no." He looked down the street over her shoulder, his gaze fixing on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"What would you do, instead?"

"Might take a page out of the Weasley twins' book. Open a potions shop, maybe."

Hermione again lifted her attention from her preemptive studying—he was right, though, none of this was anything she didn't already know—and followed his gaze with her own. Turning in her seat, she found herself staring at the joke shop. It was sadly closed for now. She wasn't certain if George would ever have the heart to reopen without Fred, but all the Weasley boys and Ginny had volunteered to come work with him if he chose to go back to it.

"What should I call you if not Professor?"

Severus looked thoughtful as he stroked his chin. "Well, Severus would probably make the most sense, but I believe that would signify a change in dynamic."

"It is a change in dynamic, you said so yourself. You were my teacher, now you're not. Change."

Those dark eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to her face. "Fine, then. I am uncomfortable with the familiarity. Does that answer suit more adequately?"

"Yes, actually." She tapped her quill against her parchment. "There's always Mr. Snape."

After a moment, they both crinkled their noses in distaste and shook their heads.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the way they'd just mirrored one another's expressions. To think she'd once been utterly terrified of this man. "You seem to believe 'man who runs the potions shop' might have a good ring to it. I know, what about 'Oi, you over there!' That could work."

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he grumbled, "Fine, you can continue calling me 'Professor.'"

The witch beamed. "Thank you."

Severus shook his head at her bright disposition. Honestly, it was like sitting across from a ray of bloody sunshine, but then again studying did make the young woman feel she was in her element.

He nodded toward the books. "I don't believe those are the correct books for someone who'll be returning for what is, technically, their eighth year. They'll have more advanced materials, no doubt, to accommodate for what the War taught you."

She looked up, some of that brightness fading. "Oh, um . . . ." She grabbed up a clean scrap of parchment. "What titles do you think those would be?"

Sighing, he looked to her empty container. She'd long since finished her ice cream, but the proprietor had no desire to kick her, or anyone else, out. They, like all the other shopkeepers, were too pleased that life was finally getting back to normal to ruffle any feathers.

He stood up from his chair and her gaze trailed the movement, questioning. "Come along. We'll pop into Flourish & Blotts and see if they might have any of them."

"Oh!" she said again, hurrying to put away her things and standing to follow him. "Thank you! That's so kind."

Severus just barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he conceded, "So unlike me, I'm aware."

Hermione snickered, shaking her head as she followed him toward the bookshop. While they crossed Daigon Alley, her attention snagged on the dark, abandoned corridor that was Knockturn Alley.

Noticing her wayward glance, he turned to caution her. "Miss Granger, I know you've heard the stories about all the things left behind there since its abandonment, but I urge you to recall the old saying about the cat."

Yet she was already inching toward the corridor, her curiosity indeed getting the better of her. "So much to study. Can't we just have a quick peek?"

"Miss Granger, no. We cannot."

She squared her shoulders and met his gaze, challenging—he knew he should've kept up the more domineering demeanor she'd become accustomed to from him while she'd been his student. This relaxed, friendly nonsense was bound to bring trouble. "Well, then if 'we' cannot, you stay here and I'll go. I promise not to touch anything, I simply want to have a look. I am, after all 'just curious.'"

Severus stared after the witch in disbelief as she walked toward the mouth of Knockturn Alley.

A few moments passed before he realized she was not going to change her mind and hurry right back to where she'd left him. Making a growling sound under his breath, he shook his head and started after her.

Honestly, the woman was impossible!