Harry apparated to the designated spot approved for certain Hogwarts visitors. He barely saw the students who waved, who hoped to catch his attention or exchange a polite word. That would become their Harry Potter story they could share with family back home. 'I ran into him once,' was the anecdote many starstruck kids wouldn't mind claiming. After all, he was living history, young as he was, and appeared in their updated textbooks. Here was one more historical sensation they'd all be privileged to. That's all a trial would mean to anyone, but he tried not to think about what it was really going to cost him.
His pace quickened, as his veins filled with the frustration to talk to Draco. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected he needed to square things with Thella, but he pushed it back as the least important thing. He could always try to mentally contact her with the talisman. McGonagall waited for him in her office, her face concerned but calm. Their greetings were perfunctory as Harry accepted the legal parchment from her. She seemed to require no explanation for the tension in his brow and his breathless lack of small talk. He was upset and her expression said that he had every right to be. But they both knew it was inevitable.
He unrolled it right there in front of her. A poof of magic evaporated, leaving a slight haze to the air. His receiving of the summoning was officially recorded with the Ministry. The parchment then flew from his hands, zipped up at face level, and began reading itself out loud.
This is an official summons from the Division of Criminal Offenses and Court Proceedings of the Ministry of Magical Law. You, Harry James Potter, are expected to attend your hearing at the appointed time, in the Clerk and Records Room at 9:00 AM sharp, for the charges against you of
1. Assault against Lucius Malfoy II.
2. Attempted Murder of Lucius Malfoy II,
3. Reckless Exhibition of Magic to Muggles / Treasonous Exposure of the Wizarding world to outsiders.
Any attempt to ignore this summons, or your absence from the appointment, will result in your automatic arrest and detainment until sentencing. Good Day.
Sheila Corrington, Clerk Secretary to the Honorable Minister, Vector Banks
The stiff parchment suddenly went limp and drifted to the floor. Harry caught it.
He looked at the date. That was Monday. This Monday. Day after tomorrow. He had no time to prepare anything.
"I'm sorry you had to," he started an apology."
McGonagall interrupted him. "Say no more, Potter." Her smile was knowing. "Now get yourself home to see to this. We'll not waste time regretting one moment of precious life. I'll make sure your things are sent to you."
Her tone was clearly shooing him off. Even though he'd told her almost nothing of why he'd done that to Lucius, or updated her on his findings in the castle, she was still going to let him go with her complete trust intact. As he looked at her, he could only say two words that meant anything at the moment.
"Thank you." Thank you for not asking questions, for not drilling me, for not needing me to explain or prove anything. Thank you for the silence and the trust.
"Off with you. Fix this and get back here as soon as you can," she prompted. "I have complete faith that everything will work out."
He apparated to the condo first, to warn Draco about the trial. He should've known he'd be greeted with solicitors. A man and a woman in serious attire and briefcases were waiting inside. Draco had altered the wards to deposit him right in front of them, in the living room. They rushed forward, introducing themselves.
"Hello, Mr. Potter, I'm Destiny Crowdinghouse and this is Mr. Douglas Fraizure."
Her voice was as brisk as her handshake. She wore a smart, pinstriped skirt-suit and an elaborate bun of braided dark hair, pinned in pearls. A step behind her, an extremely slender man waved in a kind of wistful, finger-toggle. His beige suit matched his skin and hair, and something about him screamed vegan in an over exuberant way. He looked star struck, but was smart enough to let her do all the talking.
"We've only met in passing. We're two-fifths of your legal team. Mr. Malfoy has instructed that we brief you on the upcoming hearing and your role in it."
"Um, can you call him Draco? My role?"
"Yes, you're the defendant and Mrs. Malfoy has filed charges against you for breaking into her home and attacking her husband. These charges extend to the greater laws of Wizarding Offenses, but her specific rush for a trial, she insists, revolves around the imminent demise of her husband. His prognosis doesn't look good and she's fighting to have you sentenced, or at least incarcerated while he's bedridden, as an act of justice. However, the Ministry's prosecuting council has stepped in and taken over the case. Your crimes are considered an offense against society and government, so even if Mrs. Malfoy miraculously drops her charges, you're still facing prosecution."
He felt it all sinking in like lead.
"Don't worry, Mr. Draco believes that her efforts have nothing to do with the attack on her husband. You will, of course have to answer for that, but charges will be minimum. Mr. Draco feels that his mother is only using the incident to cut a deal with you. She wants visitation rights of his daughter. Her solicitors will use your hearing to manipulate the outcome if they can. Our biggest problem is surviving the scrutiny of the prosecution. If we can prove that the Malfoys have been harassing your family, and we can, we can reduce the charges against you. Mrs. Malfoy's plea for rights to her grandchild will fall on deaf ears."
"I'd fucking go to prison before I let her see Iece."
"Mr. Draco has explained that. We're here to coach you through Monday's proceedings."
"I'm just gonna admit I did it. I'm guilty, there's no need for a trial."
"The council has reviewed your case and decided there's enough evidence to go to trial. As your solicitor, I advise you to plead 'no contest'. You need not reveal more than absolutely necessary."
"But everyone saw me do it. It's on muggle footage. I'm guilty! As long as Draco is keeping my daughter safe, I can do the fucking time."
"It's not that simple. Guilty, and no one gets to learn what drove you to it, and you face the harshest sentencing possible. You could be looking at ten to fifteen years in prison, even if Mr. Malfoy lives. No one can afford what that does to a family. But plead no contest, and the jury has to hear you out. Let the prosecutor make their case. We'll make ours. Draco says that you attacked Mr. Malfoy because he and his wife have been tracking and following you since his prison release. His money still influences your family's freedom, and his magic is still affecting you and your daughter. Your doctor verifies the stress you've been under since the war, the psychological and physical effects of anxiety. Minister Banks will testify that you've had difficulty keeping your speaking engagements, and you were hospitalized for a stroke, when your body caved under the duress of pressures."
"I don't want you painting me as a victim. I'm not a victim."
"With all due respect, set aside your pride. You do require legal help, and if all these things really happened, there's no harm in letting the jury know. Mr. Malfoy's prying and spying was a constant provocation. When his magic affected your child, you went after him. That's defending yourself, not murderous insanity. Your actions were those of protectiveness. You were protecting your family. The law had failed you once and was still failing you. What choice did you have? A no-contest plea will allow us to present our investigation, expose the Malfoys, and mitigate your sentencing drastically."
He never looked at it like that. He knew he was in the right, but he didn't hope to be able to explain it to anyone else's understanding, especially not strangers who would only be there for the show. She made it sound like he had a chance at justice.
She continued, "Narcissa's camp will only use your testimony against you, so we'll rehearse the questions you'll likely be asked and the brevity required to answer them. As for Mrs. Malfoy's ulterior motives, you must know that the law can only protect your wishes as a parent, if legal documentation is presented to the court, in the form of a blood-magic test or marriage to Mr. Draco. If we cannot show the court your legal guardianship or parentage, then your wishes cannot be considered as valid authority in refusing visitation rights to her grandmother. And Mr. Draco's wishes alone, will not be enough to prohibit his mother's rights unless he too provides blood-magic documentation. He'll need it to register a legal counter restraint against her. Either way, he asks that you decide very quickly."
Her breathy pace reminded him, without saying it, that he'd had two years to think about it. Now was the time. She was practically channeling Draco's pragmatic approach to the solution. Whether she knew the truth or not, she had a script to stick to. It was a script based on what the public thought they knew.
"Marriage?" He had to be sure he understood her.
"The briefest of civil ceremonies. No more than a signature, actually. We've written an adoption clause in, declaring your status as the child's full and legal guardian. Time is of the essence."
Annoyance made his throat dry. He massaged his forehead, feeling his scar. "Where is he? Why isn't he telling me this?"
"Mr. Draco ‒"
"Just call him Draco." It occurred to him that she was deliberately trying to differentiate between Draco and his father by avoiding having to say, Mr. Malfoy.
"He intends to petition to leave the country, in spite of the impending trial. His visa has been restricted, so he's making appropriate arrangements to appeal as we speak."
Of course. It was the last thing they talked about. It was the reason why the room looked like they were moving.
"So Draco's already prepared." He stared around the room, noticing that it was half empty. A wall of luggage and trunks sat in the middle of the living room floor. The place looked extra clean, actually sparse. Iece's toys had all been cleared. Furniture was moved against the walls, instead of their center island arrangement. All the coziness of acquired collections, art pieces, warm throws, a few plants, and Draco's sterile taste in luxurious décor, were gone. The place looked as new and unlived in as the day they moved in. He knew what Draco's plans were, he just wasn't prepared to see it in action.
"So I sign a marriage certificate and adoption papers, and that's enough to keep Mrs. Malfoy away from my daughter?"
"Along with a restraining order, yes."
"And you don't need blood-tests?"
"The marriage takes the place of the test. It makes you blood from a legal point of view, because it is a magical bond. No one will question your guardianship once you're married and have adopted her as your own. Then you can legally deny Mrs. Malfoy access to her. Your wishes won't hold up in any other way."
He didn't know why he wasn't jumping to sign the papers. But the longer he stood there thinking of reasons why he had to be careful, the more he realized his hesitancy. He stared at them. This was flat out fraud. A lie on paper. And as long as it was on paper, it could be used against them at any time. He wanted to sign. He wanted to be married to Draco, just not under these circumstances. It felt too much like a desperate trap.
She saw his reserve. "I can give you a few hours and leave these with you. But your case will be stronger, the sooner you give them back to me, signed. It's the best chance you have of keeping Mrs. Malfoy away from your family."
He'd been lying for over two years now. What else did he have to lose? He was already dammed, already committed to the lie. He snatched the forms. "I'll sign. Let me look them over. Come back for them in two hours."
She gave him a smile. "Good then. We'll see you in two hours. If you have any questions, there's a correspondence parchment in the packet. Write your questions on it and our responses will appear. We'll leave you alone now."
When they were gone, he stared at the legal packet before throwing it down on the floor. It slapped the glossy, ivory floor tiles, making a spanking sound that echoed in the room. The hits never stopped coming. He'd just found Snape, now a trial, now marriage? Was he really creating all this chaos, or was something against him? He didn't waste a second feeling sorry for himself before finding the alcohol and pouring himself a drink. He rushed to put his name beside Draco's on the forms, then skimmed the legal jargon until his eyes crossed.
The day moved on without him. The sky grew dark and Draco never returned for the trunks and things. That's what he was waiting on. He needed Draco to give him a reason not to return to Snape's tonight. Otherwise, he was just going to use his time to avoid thinking about the trial until Monday morning. Where he stood on matters wasn't about to change. Somewhere in that gloom, an idea occurred to him.
He took the forms and imagined he was holding the Elder Wand. He added a new paragraph. It blistered the paper with handwritten text that lit like fire. He spoke it aloud.
"I, Harry James Potter, override all objectives of this document with this one dominant command. My daughter, Iece Lillian-Severus Potter, her guardianship will never fall into the hands of any Malfoy other than Draco Malfoy. My second and third choices are Mrs. Weasley and Hermione Granger. With my blood and my magic, I bind this contract to their lives and their well-being. Should Iece fall into their hands, may they have the resources to care for her until she's of age to care for herself. Everyone will have everything they need from my magic, to ensure the best outcome for all."
He had no trouble cutting his hand with a spell and using the spectral wand to sign his name in blood. There. Now blood-magic was in place that no court could easily change. He didn't know if they had ways of undoing it or not, but he knew from his time in the painting that his magic could rewrite the very codes of life and it was worth a shot. Of course, he'd have to tell Molly and Hermione what he'd done. He laid back in an oversized leather chair. As the room got darker, he waited for the solicitors to return. He handed the paper work off without mentioning what he'd done, while looking them straight in the eyes. For hours, they rehearsed the most pertinent statements, questions and responses the court could make, targeting his relationship with Draco, Iece's perceived parentage, and his reasons for attacking Mr. Malfoy. When Harry's logic was in a straight line and committed to memory, the two solicitors left.
"Don't worry, Mr. Potter. We're going to prove that Narcissa's claims are nothing more than a front for getting hold of your daughter. We're going to take good care of you."
Facing the next two days with little chance of seeing Draco, frustrated him. Draco wasn't allowing him communication. Some fucking marriage. This was all wrong. Even as he endured it, his mind was hellbent on fixing it. They could always have a real ceremony, even if it wasn't the first one. Just intimate friends in attendance. They'd have photos and cake and champagne. All the works, low-key. The Weasley's would be there. Hermione. And Snape. Yeah, he could be there now as well.
He knew he was dreaming. He'd be lucky if Draco even acknowledged the marriage as real, let alone honored it.
The only thing that made any sense was to go back to Snape's and continue reasoning with him. He had too much energy to sit back and wait to go to prison. And where the hell was the CIUM anyway? He thought they had his back. Didn't Bicksby say they got him out of this? Or at least postponed it? That answer didn't seem worth running by the solicitors, lest they entangle him in legal conundrums for the rest of the evening. And if Bicksby's methods were off the grid or seen as irregular treatment in any way, he didn't need it pointed out in court that The Boy Who Lived continued to get entitled treatment that would leave anyone else behind bars. Fuck!
He knocked over his drink, then kicked it just so that he could scream, "Fuck" out loud, while it gushed across the floor. In reality, he knew he could clean it up, no problem. But without magic, it would've been a most inconvenient mess, deserving of the bitterest "Fuck" he could scream, and so he relished shouting it. Dammit, he wanted to talk to Draco. He needed to hold him, even if they didn't talk. This was one of those dislodged moments where something in him needed to find anchor, and he had none.
He cleaned the mess by waving his hand like a wand. This time he didn't even have to imagine holding any specific wand. He felt it when energy left him. It pointed like beams and braided themselves into a band of magic, whipping the liquid back into the glass. It used a disc-like wind that got up every drop and sent the glass off into the kitchen. Contents dumped over the sink drain.
Satisfied, it occurred to him that if the Ministry didn't have ways of stripping him of magic, he'd do the goddamned time in prison voluntarily. Happily. Just let him have the right to defend himself while there. But it wasn't his future he had to protect, that made him hate the thought of going. It was Iece's and Draco's. Maybe he had been selfish to unleash everything onto Lucius all at once. Maybe it had been a mistake.
Remorseful, but not convinced, he apparated to Snape's cave. Or tried to. This time he was braced for stinging, electrifying wards, but not for the disorientation spell that stunned him and redirected him back to the hill overlooking Ash's house. He was at least a quarter of a kilometer from Snape's, and he couldn't get any closer to the cave. He kept trying, till the new wards had him so dizzy and exhausted that he had to sit down, letting tall grass billow around him. It was dusk and the grassy land took on a blue tint, as did the clouds, his clothes, and everything visible under the evening sky.
He waited to catch his breath. Ash's car was there. He wondered if Ash still had access to the cave, when an idea occurred to him. He took off his glasses, eyeing the direction where the cave should've been.
"Show me the wheels," he demanded of his magic. "They don't ever go away." Even from this distance, he felt certain he might be able to detect them. They distorted the laws of Physics anyway. It wasn't asking much for them to appear to his enhanced sight. But there was nothing in the distance. Just rolling hills and shaggy moors. He did see lights, as if the earth itself was glowing faintly and sending up subtle rays of energy into the atmosphere all the time without his noticing. In fact, if he stopped and studied everything he saw, he'd see there was a lot going on around him than most people realize. Little lights flicked across the grass, and they weren't insects that he knew of. Clouds moved into formations that looked like runes, spelling something out to his subconscious. And the darker it got the more any bush or tree emitted rays of soft light into the atmosphere. It appeared to be made of a substance that didn't disrupt the dark, but somehow illuminated in spite of it. Magic, he surmised was everywhere, in everything, and maybe he could see it now.
He turned back to Ash's house and saw the wheels he was looking for. From this distance, they didn't look like wheels so much as an atomic halo over the house. Seven spokes, like silver wires. flickered over the roof, evaporating in and out of sight like an unstable spark. Harry stood, excited. Snape was in there, talking to Ash right now. About him no doubt.
He wondered if Snape knew about the trial, since he had ways of knowing things. He broke into a run and tore the ground up, forgetting to apparate. He came to his senses midway and crept around back. He had to climb high concrete stairs to make it to the back porch, just off the kitchen. He thought that's where the voices were coming from, but it wasn't until he was up there, head against the door, that he realized Snape and Ash were speaking from below. Their tones drifted out the basement window behind the stairs. Harry broke every privacy etiquette he'd ever known, to hear what they were saying.
Ash was yelling,"He knows you love him. You're never going to get rid of him, so you might as well give him something useful to do in your life, like you did for me."
"Impossible," Snape drawled. "If he makes it out of this trial without going to jail, he should be grateful enough to tend to his life with a better appreciation for it. He'll have to learn to put his family first and leave me alone."
Harry crept back down the steps and stayed close against the house as he neared the window. Their voices were slightly muffled, but he strained, using his magic to make out every word.
"Bullshit! From everything I've learned, that kid is on his tenth life, with no signs of stopping. You know as well as I do that people only throw tantrums when they're not getting what they need. Tell him what he means to you. Spend a little time with him. His demands on you will calm down. Ignore him, and you're just gonna keep him determined to get through to you."
"That is beside the point. I came here to make sure you don't do anything stupid, like encourage him. You'll only get him hurt. Now that he knows where I am, I've no intention of staying there. Should he come looking, or worse, be followed, he's going to be redirected here. If he persists, he will trigger the amplification of my wards to give him temporary memory loss. You won't do him any favors by building up false hope in that thick head of his."
"You're being an ass right now. My kids are grown, do you know what I'd do to have the opportunity to spend time with them when they were that young again?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, you're gonna wish you'd been nicer to him. Made some time for him. Especially if he is in all this danger. From what I know of his lecture, you scarred him when he thought you died in his arms. And now you can't even sit down and have a civil conversation with, apparently, the only kid out of all your students, who honestly likes and admires you."
Wow, they were arguing over him. That caught Harry in his chest.
Snape shot back, "You weren't there. You have no business attempting to fathom what my relationship with him was like. Or can ever be."
"Oh, please! For a heartless prick, you're so touchy. I'm just saying, is there no one's love you're willing to return? I'm not talking a lifetime commitment, just a thank-you-for-being-nice-to-me, dinner. Or something! Shit, why am I so worked up over this? I've learned my lesson. I'm a grown man. You break my heart, I'm getting back on my feet. But this kid is like a freaking puppy that doesn't care how many times it gets kicked. It keeps coming back to lick you. And you know what, nobody kicks a fucking puppy in front of me and gets away with it."
Harry covered his mouth to keep from laughing. Whether it happened or not, he could almost feel Snape rolling his eyes, defenseless against sentiment like that. He kept his head low as he crouched against the foundation of Ash's house. Just in case the dark wasn't enough, he charmed a shrouding camouflage of mist around him, and peeked through the window.
Ash wasn't finished. "If you're too spiteful to let him see you, even a few times a year, what the hell did you rush over hear for? We're done, right? There's nothing more we need from each other. You've made that very clear. Harry rescued me and now I consider him a friend. If he wants to visit, I'll let him visit. If he needs a place to crash, he can crash. Erase my memory with your obliterate spells all you want, Harry will restore it. He's a powerful wizard and you can't change that. And from what I read in those magical newspapers this morning, he's going to need friends."
"The Prophet is little more than a Ministry sponsored tabloid. You'd be better informed of the news if you interpreted the pattern of owl droppings. You are now more ignorant than you were before you could see into our world. Curse that bloody doctor for giving you the means to jump to conclusions about us."
"That doctor repaid me for my help. It's what people do. If you won't be nice to Harry, then I must ask that you stop coming here. I've already told him he can stay over. He still thinks he's going to get through to you. He's infatuated with you."
"He's infatuated with trouble. That comes from being raised conditioned to play the part of a hero, unto his death. The problem is, he keeps surviving."
"And you make sure of it."
"I'm waiting on him to wake up. To run with his life, not chase down every danger available to him."
"You're just as obsessed with him as he is with you. I don't know what the hell happened at that school, but I know you went through some shit. I know that boy James, was cruel as hell to you, and that's all I need to know. I'm not asking you to dredge it up, but I can't help but think your illogical hatred of Harry has something to do with his father."
While they were arguing, they were slowly leaning towards one another. Snape suddenly stopped and Harry recognized the defensive stance he used with McGonagall the night he confronted him at Hogwarts. His hand went to his wand.
"Be careful. The painting has shown you symbols of secrets. No matter what you and Harry think you saw, you will never know what my reality was. Don't try to figure out why I do what I do."
Alert, but not out of sass, Ash wasn't backing down. "I'm trying to give that up, honestly. I don't want to know your brand of crazy, like I thought I did. But if you really want to get rid of him, it makes more sense to let him see you for a while. Then have the talk about how you need to be away from him because you and his father have more toxic beef than can possibly be neutralized in this lifetime. I mean, I'd try to be more sensitive about it, but since you're acting like a coldhearted prick, why should I pretend that you have feelings? You don't even seem to care that you were raped."
Harry choked, cringing. Woah. Why'd he have to bring that up?
Harry heard the swish before he realized Snape's wand was already at Ash's throat. "Sensitivity is relative to your survival," Snape informed Ash. "Understand, I've allowed you to know some facts about me, in return for your gracious aid. I'm a master at reciprocity. But you and I still have a line that shall not be crossed, regardless of what you think you know of me. Just because you've seen parts of me unsuitable to the eyes of mere men, doesn't mean I'll let you get away with corrosive disrespect."
Snape had him backed against the wall now, collar fisted. Ash's eyes bulged from strain, not fear. He managed a weak laugh.
"So it takes a comment about James to get you upset about having female parts? Most men would've had their pride unbalanced by that ages ago. I saw what they did to you, and I've never seen you act normal about it. It's like your sanity went underground instead of exploding. And you know what else? It's almost as if Harry is your son, and that's the only reason you could possibly have for pushing a boy that brilliant away."
Snape shook him. "Don't test me. I have no qualms about silencing a helpless muggle forever."
Ash pushed. "Is that what happened? I don't know how magic works, but I'm a doctor and I've seen some tragic shit. I've seen children left to carry children. Girls attacked, sometimes by family, and stuck with the consequences. I figure the use of horrible magic, like the kind done to you, makes for one hell of a teen pregnancy. He didn't just rape you. After that inhuman spell they attacked you with, he got you pregnant. Is Harry your son? That's why you can't stand to be around him, isn't it? He's just a reminder of how badly James really hurt you."
Harry thought he might have to rush in and save Ash, but he couldn't move upon hearing those words. His breath caught, and something told him to hold very still. Do nothing to interrupt them. He was back in that quarantined section of Snape's mind, where everything looked like Hogsmeade and what was happening in that little inn, caused all humor to evaporate.
Snape's lips stretched over his teeth as he pushed his wand deep into Ash's throat. Deep enough to crush his windpipe, causing Ash to gasp for oxygen. Harry saw him turn blue, and still, he needed for Snape to answer him. He didn't know why, he knew who his parents were, but what if… what if… there had been a child? His father had done the worst, so what if… They saw the curse. The same curse that was done to him, was done to Snape.
A wave of comprehension threatened to detach him from the moment. He'd seen all that, and he'd actually dared to speak to Snape, to make light of everything, when he'd found him. He'd had to. The only other alternative was to remain overwhelmed and at the mercy of unforgivable feelings. That wasn't any help to Snape or to Iece, so he fought to stay ahead of grief, of shame for what his dad had done, and a myriad of unlabeled emotions. It was all so fucked.
His mind went numb rather than follow through with Ash's logic. Clearly, Snape had survived to become an imposing wizard, so his fate couldn't have been as bad as it all seemed. It couldn't.
Snape's face was inches from Ash, and murderous.
"I know what you're trying to do, Dr. Hastings. Your best attempt to rouse human feelings in me, will get you killed. You have no idea how kind I was, to sequester you inside of a crystal, when I usually find other ways of putting an end to those I want to be rid of. Don't speak to me of tragedy, I am well versed in it. You saw what James did to me, but you didn't see what I did to him. I assure you, his touch, and everything that came from it, has long been eradicated from my life. My loathing of him has been purified through the fires of my trials. I have faced darkness that makes his cruelty look like a brat pulling the wings off of a fly. I certainly am not overpowered by the shadow of his son. James is no longer so influential in my life that I must hate him. I no longer care enough about him to hate him. If I did, I certainly wouldn't bother involving myself in Harry's life."
"Then why do you do it?"
"I do it, because Harry is his mother's son. I have only ever loved two women in my life. One, my mother. The other, Lilly Potter. Her spirit still remained in the room the night she was murdered. She begged me to take him and run. I've been trying to keep him safe ever since. I've done it for so long, and so completely, I am hard-pressed to find another purpose. I admit, I might've gone soft, but that's my problem, not yours. Forget what you think you saw with James. You saw a fraction of the truth. If you can't let it go, I'll either remove the memory from your mind for you, or I'll kill you. I did not survive that time to have it thrown in my face by the last person who should have any business in my past. Now, do you want to continue discussing it, or do you want to live?"
Ash thought about his answer, eyeing the tip of the wand. "I'm sorry. That was shit of me to bring it up. I just want you to let go of some of that pain. I want you to let me stand beside you, not store me away from your sight. Just take it easy on Harry, and I'll never bring it up again. I promise. I'm sorry I said anything. It's just that, even if he stops coming here, this ache will burn in his heart for the rest of his life. You don't want that. You don't want to put someone you love through that. Don't turn him away without admitting that you love him. If you can't give him anything more after that, then okay. But don't lie to him anymore, not when you're alive and capable of so much more. He deserves better, and you're made of better."
Though they were similar in height, Snape's threat seemed to tower over Ash. Slowly, tension let out of his shoulders and his wand lowered. But he didn't let go of Ash's collar.
"The first rule in staying alive around me, is to keep your nose out of my affairs. If I can't trust you, I can't keep you around."
"Well, I can say the same. Can I trust you? Or are you just gonna banish me every time we disagree?"
In answer, Snape moved backwards. "Cross me, and you'll wish I'd only banished you."
"Empty threat. You haven't harmed me yet. Scared the living shit out of me, but not harmed."
"There's a first time for everything."
With that, and one final dark glare, he apparated. Ash was left standing alone among his examination room.
Harry's legs ached from crouching, but he was reluctant to go. The trial was in two days and he didn't want to go back home. Not if he couldn't talk to Draco. And after listening to Snape, that was too much to face right now. So he waited by the window, stretching his legs for an hour, before coming up with an excuse to knock on Ash's door.
Ash opened on the fourth knock. He looked startled, but welcoming. "What the devil? I wondered if you'd turn back up."
Harry let his awkwardness play the part naturally. He shrugged, "I could say I was in the neighborhood, but I doubt you'd buy that."
"You got reason enough, I expect. Come on in, son." Ash held the door. "I was just about to have some coffee. Want some?"
"I would love a cup. And the company," Harry included. "If it isn't inconveniencing you."
"I told you, you're welcome here."
He patted Harry's shoulder and encouraged him in.
