The entire following week was devoted to studying, all of the eighth years meeting in the library every single day, Harry joining in even on Thursday to cram. After a week of last-minute studying late into the evening and spending a gorgeous Saturday inside glued to books, it was breakfast on Sunday. He felt a lot of remorse for the year, finally feeling the pressure of not being as studious as he should have been. Ginny, who ate next to Neville, shook her leg nervously like there wasn't enough time left. Hermione looked determined and steady but her left eye developed a permanent twitch. Dean was unable to eat, tired, slumping into his hand, trying to sleep at the table.

A black owl circled and swooped down, finding Harry at breakfast, landing right next to his orange juice and helping itself to a piece of pancake.

"Who is that from? You barely got a letter all year."

"That's because I'm having Kreacher burn my letters."

"What?"

"It's from Borgin! He says he can come the Thursday after next!"

"But that's C.H.A.R.M.S. week! He can't come during our exams! Ohhh, I knew this was going to happen!" She let out a low frustrated moan, her eyelashes twitching frantically with the news.

"Says he has a cursed cloak from my house if I want it. Ages someone instantly when they put it on for a disguise, then they return to normal when it's taken off. However, it ages them slowly and irreversibly with each use, taking years off their life if they wear it constantly. Says he already has a buyer for it if I don't want it. Says it's worth a lot."

"How is he able to determine the type of magic placed on these objects?"

"Must be experience. I mean, he is the expert."

"Well, if he can figure out where the Dark Magic is coming from in the castle, or even identify what it is, it will be worth it." She resigned back to pushing her eggs around.

Harry looked up at the staff table, Snape departing from it, several staff member's eyes following him and his new spine. His medically improved posture was the talk of the castle the entire week. Even McGonagall turned her head like an owl as she passed him in the hallway, positively perturbed, like this was the most suspicious thing to happen all year. Snape remained cool as ever, completely ignoring the stares and whispers.

At 2pm the eighth years gathered in the library just before the very last Dueling Club.

"He must have a girlfriend," Pansy said knowingly, tapping her quill. "No man changes himself like that unless there's something to gain. I suppose he's quite interesting now that he's the 'Dark Hero.'"

Harry hunched over his homework during their study group, desperate not to get pulled into this topic. Draco stared at him nearby, also tapping his quill, irritated. What did you do, Potter.

"Harry, you didn't," Hermione reprimanded.

"What?" His heart skipped several beats.

"I can see it in your bag, don't play dumb with me."

Harry shut his bag quickly so no one could read the spines of his books. The other students stopped what they were doing to watch this guilty act. "I… you weren't supposed to see that. Who cares if I have it?"

"We all know you have that book," Justin said.

"NO!" Harry accidentally yelled. "She's not talking about that book!"

"OH no you don't—give it to me. You're going to share this time."

"You didn't want it last time, remember?"

"I want to pass my C.H.A.R.M.S. as much as anyone else. Pass it over. I want to check the book against what Slughorn says, he's so cryptic sometimes."

Everyone stared at Harry. What was he going to do, refuse? Walk out of the library in protest?

"You're going to pass Hermione, I'm going to fail. I just borrowed it."

"Borrow it, shmarrow it, now give it here."

With all eyes on him, Harry reluctantly opened his bag and passed Hermione the seventh year Advanced Potions book, completely outdated, shabby, and brimming with Dark Magic in the margins with little red dots for warnings.

Hermione opened the book and started squinting at the page she wanted. "Oh, now this is much better," and she started copying.

"What is that?" Draco asked, standing up to peer over the table, recognizing the hand writing instantly.

"What is it, Draco?" Blaise asked.

He sat back down, disgusted. "Notated seventh year potions book. Memorize it if you can, superior alternate instructions—a guaranteed pass."

Chairs scraped closer, gathering tight around Hermione. Neville moved to make room for the influx.

"No, don't write that down, that's Dark Magic!" Hermione grabbed Justin's quill to stop him from copying something from the margins.

"How can you even tell?"

"Because it doesn't have a single ingredient listed! That's clearly a spell. And a bad one too. Harry, are all the red dots Dark Magic?"

"Uhhhh, I… yes." Everyone looked at him.

"Where did you get this book, Harry?" Dean asked, gob smacked by all the horrific magic hand-written inside.

"In the restricted section," he lied.

"To quote the 'Late Fred' and the 'Great George…'" Hermione started, daring the group, "Ask us no questions, and we'll tell you no lies."

"Wait a minuuuuute!" Draco said, sitting back in his chair, a few things clicking. "You're not even good at Potions! Did you have a book like this in sixth year?"

"I'm okay at Potions!" he defended himself. "And I got rid of it after I cursed you in the bathroom, sorry about that."

Draco squinted at this half-assed apology until his eyes popped wide. "YOU got Felix because you cheated!" and all the eighth years eyes found him.

"AND I shared it like a good Slyffin-puff, just not with you, so, back to studying. Unless you don't want to use this book, but you know it's accurate, so get on with it, yeah?"

Draco did not look pleased.

"Does this say stir or burn?" Justin asked. Hermione looked at it too.

"Based on his other 'b's' I think that's an 's.'"

Studying the seventh year Potions book was an intense crash course of reading Snape's tiny student handwriting. They took turns passing along the book, rotating it, squinting, all frustrated, asking each other to decipher the paragraph they needed.

"Luna, don't copy that!" Hermione gasped.

"Why? It's a recipe."

Hermione tore the book from the table with others mid-copy, staring at it hard, inches from her face. She put it down. "It is a recipe."

"I bet it's delicious, Professor Snape must be a very good cook."

All the eighth years looked at her.

"Luna!" Hermione said exasperatedly.

"What!" she said defensively. "Obviously it's his writing! Anyone can see that!" Harry frowned and averted his eyes, feeling very thick.

They spent the majority of the two hours copying notations from Snape's textbook. Hermione nominated Draco to read the instructions out loud as he seemed better at interpreting them. When it was close to four a clock they all headed out, walking together to their next destination.

Harry was happy he joined Dueling Club: its competitive nature was a nice substitute (though a poor one) for Quidditch. The Mirror Refraction Spell was easily the most casually handy spell learned all year. It became so popular it trickled down all the way to the first years. Now that spells weren't hitting students, they were hitting the castle hallways and portraits, causing quite a bit of damage. Like the school needed more.

Today they were split up into two groups in constant rotation with five minute timed duels. Harry got paired with every single Slytherin and thankfully he was a decent dueler or he would've been in the hospital wing by the third one. They gave their all but Harry was too good at dodging and disarming as it was second nature at this point. The only person who really got him was Blaise Zabini, who used an unfamiliar levitation spell that he was unable to block. When it released, Harry fell three meters, landing sideways onto the stone floor.

"10 points to Slytherin," Snape called from across the room while Hermione alone came to heal his arm that twisted beneath him. The Slytherins looked very pleased at Harry's injury after beating most of them. Instead of performing worse, Harry performed better in the next few duels, feeling focused and alive after being hurt.

But then he got paired with Ginny. They stared at each other.

The day had finally come. You're not my boyfriend anymore. Other duelers caught their intense stares, nudging each other to watch. Hermione abandoned her own duel to do damage control.

She stood there as an experienced witch in her own right with the trail of brothers and ex boyfriends, unashamed to hex them all.

"You will make an excellent Auror, Harry. Ron says they can't wait for you to start." Her compliment was nice but her smile was euphoric.

I love you. As a person. As a woman. I am sorry what I have done to our relationship. "You are as fierce as your mum."

Her eyes did not look away as they bowed.

Her hair whipped like fire, Harry's first Shield Charm worthless. The refraction spell saved him twice in the first 10 seconds.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Engorgio!"

Her Shield Charm was too late, leg blowing up to the size of a tree stump. She stomped around behind her Shield Charm trying to shrink it. He got past her Shield Charm again to find out she too cast 'Refractio,' and his spell missed.

Something whizzed past his face—Harry received a haircut and a sliced cheek, shocked that she would send a cutting spell so close to his face.

He retaliated by sending several burn spells that singed her robes and burned her skin.

Harry's own robes came alive, twisting around him, engulfing him entirely and he fell to the floor as he wrestled them. Nearby, people laughed. He swallowed his own robes in fire, letting them disintegrate off him so he could stand, performing a quick refraction spell in the second it took him to get to his feet. Her next spell missed, and he sent several cutting spells that slashed her but not deep, controlling the depth to make them shallow, in a show of how badly he could hurt her if he wanted to.

Surprised and provoked by this dangerous threat, she sent a spell that struck him directly on his forehead, and his head grew so big he toppled over by its' own weight. People laughed, but the Slytherins roared. There was nothing he could do, sideways, unable to pick up his own giant head to stand.

But he had an ace up his sleeve: at the very start of their duel he performed a nonverbal spell, knowing he was going to face off against Ginny. And although he was powerless on the floor, a school broom CRASHED right through the window and went straight for Ginny, taking her out. Knocked off her feet, she zoomed around the room backwards on a broom she had no control over, giving Harry time to unshrink his head.

Harry steadied himself on his feet with splitting headache, pleased the broomstick refused to respond to Ginny with his Intelligent Motivational spell. She shot down angry hexes from the air, riding it around artfully like an out-of-control bull. Most people stopped their duels to watch this epic battle of the exes.

"AAHH!" Snape screamed from somewhere behind him.

Harry twisted, blasting a powerful knockback jinx without thinking, knocking Blaise back five meters and slamming him into the stone wall. He crumpled to the floor.

Now every duel stopped. Draco, who was helping a fifth year with form, stared at him open mouthed like he couldn't possibly be this stupid. All the students looked at Harry and then at Snape, wondering why he would abandon his own duel to save a professor from a non-existent threat.

Snape, who looked relatively fine except clutching a part of his chest, stared completely dumfounded by his actions. And then his face became uncharacteristically pink, clearly embarrassed by Harry's grandiose misplaced chivalry.

Harry didn't even see it—he was whipped to the floor by some unknown spell. "How DARE YOU, Potter!" Snape seethed. "100 POINTS from Gryffindor—STAY out of my duels!" He turned to check on Blaise, who was coming to.

"Did you see the force of that knockback?"

"That was mental."

"Why did he do that?"

"Told you he was a nutter."

Mumbling came from all sides. Harry, also red, found Hermione and a grounded Ginny, who held the broomstick like she owned it. They both rolled their eyes at him. Really? You're protecting him just because he loved your mum?

"Next time then," Ginny whispered, shoving the broom handle to his chest. "That was clever, I'm still mad at you." Completely ashamed by his actions, he refused to pair with anyone else but Hermione for the remainder of the club while she lodged softballs at him to block.

As they left Dueling Club Harry did not look at Snape or Draco once, but heard the mutterings of all the Slytherins. He did catch Blaise's eyes however, who stared at him, impassive.

They spent their final week studying from sun-up to sun-down. Harry even slept in his four-poster just to be glued to Neville in attempt to absorb an entire year's worth of Herbology knowledge in one week. Neville seemed to enjoy the company.

Slughorn was beside himself after Harry showed renewed potions aptitude, roaring that his entire class was the most talented group of students he ever taught while the real seventh years stared around, wondering why the eighth years got so good all of a sudden.

Trelawney, who seemed more clear-headed than she did all year, started to teach them fairly accurate lessons, but it was all too late, Hermione already covering these in the middle of the year. Because the students were succeeding on their first tries, Trelawney took all the credit: "If the headmistress could see me now!"

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Snape, in a truly unexpected stroke of mercy, practically told them what might be on their C.H.A.R.M.S., hinting at pages in their giant book of Dark Arts laws. During this mini-lecture Hermione's book slammed four dozen times as she fervently notated this relinquished information. Snape ignored this very loud disruption, pacing about the class. Everyone left the classroom doors exclaiming that they knew Snape was okay all along, this alone being the deciding factor.

Their original plan was to skip another Thursday so Harry could cram (there was no way he was going to pass Herbology at this rate,) but something new was bothering him. For the past week and a half everyone was being cruel to Snape in backhanded ways, saying things like 'he wasn't evil after all' and how he 'wasn't gross anymore.' This made Harry feel terrible. It was unfair to ask Snape to change his physical characteristics for him. And then the Dueling Club fiasco where he blasted Blaise across the room for no reason.

"You're supposed to be studying. You need it," Snape growled right in front of the door at 8 o clock, like he was waiting for him just in case he showed.

"I can study here, can't I?" The door closed behind them and Harry had to reach higher to kiss him now. "Are you angry?"

"ANGRY that you undermined a professor in front of a room of students? Why would I be angry? And the Slytherins are very suspicious—Gryffindors normally don't jump to save perfectly skilled Slytherins from imaginary threats."

"Yeah, but you should have seen your face though. But really—I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to embarrass you… I just… my wand moved on its own."

"You may as well have announced it."

"I know… but we just have a week to go. I'll be out soon enough, and… you know. I won't be a student anymore."

"The sooner, the better at this rate. You make a terrible student." And they kissed again. Despite looking like he could have skinned him alive at the Dueling Club, his mouth said something completely different.

"Privacy, I think," Harry breathed into his lips. "You forgot the wards."

Snape's eyes popped, looking at the door mid-kiss. He did forget the wards. After they were in place they headed to the next room, warding that door too.

"Sooooo… listen. I feel like shit asking, it wasn't right—asking you to change your appearance for me. I'm sorry. You didn't have to change anything about yourself. I mean, your teeth. Your teeth were looking pretty bad there, but you got those fixed on your own, but the curvature of your back… it didn't really bother me that much. I'm sorry I asked."

"I don't care," Snape said, looking at him like this whole conversation was unnecessary.

"It's just that… is… is there anything you want me to change? I don't want long hair, mind, but should I hold off growing a beard? I have to shave all the time, which is annoying, and I don't know what your preferences are. My muscle definition is almost gone now, should I start working out? I think I will… but do you prefer me thinner? Clothes. You mentioned clothes, but…"

"I. Don't. Care." Snape repeated, stirring the tea that made itself and floated over.

"Right..."

"You need clothes, yes—and badly. You're going to be working at the Ministry. And maybe…"

"Maybe…?" Harry asked, open to almost any request at this point.

"…Take off your glasses more?"

"I need them to see."

"You don't wear your glasses to bed, do you? Just take them off earlier?"

"Oh... alright…" Harry swallowed. Although this obsession with his eyes felt uncomfortable, it did seem like an unfair swap. Everywhere students were making fun of Snape's new cleaned up appearance while simultaneously taking the piss out of his old one. Snape's hair did get greasy and flat quickly. Perhaps it was part genes and part side effect of Potions Master. Harry would catch him in the evenings performing quick hair charms when he put away his cauldron. He did it once accidentally in class purely by habit when he closed a window on a humid day, which was noticed by literally everyone. And all Harry had to do was take off his glasses the next time they had a cuddle.

Harry sat down and drank his tea, pulling out his Defense Against the Dark Arts book, dog eared with all the information that may be on his C.H.A.R.M.S. But he kept getting distracted by all the much more interesting information written in the margins. But Harry made a mistake—he was in the wrong place for learning. Fingers were already creeping up his arm saying 'don't come here if you want to study.'

He allowed the touch, leaning back, resting into him. "I only came here to apologize."

"Apologize to Zabini."

"Should I apologize to Malfoy?"

"For what?"

"For messing up Dueling Club."

"You always mess up Dueling Club."

"No, that's not what I meant—and that's not true. I don't know… he looked pissed, you know? I know it's awkward for him, but he's being fair."

"What do you mean...?"

"Well, he's being okay about it all, but then I brought that to Dueling Club."

Snape did not respond for a full minute.

"…Draco knows?"

"…I thought you knew that he knew."

"He knows?" and there was real fear in his voice.

"I don't… think he cares?"

"How long has he known?"

"Uhhhhh, months? Literally months? Says he doesn't care. Knew I was here when his Patronus showed up. Realized I was here with the wards being up and all."

"How does he know? You didn't tell him."

"I don't know, he just… figured it out? Those of us sneaking around the castle see the footprints of others."

Snape continued to not speak and Harry couldn't study over the silent sound of his worrying. "He trusts you more than he trusts anyone in this world at this point. He respects your decisions," Harry ended, trying to focus on his textbook. Arms curled around him, still in thought. Harry read The Prince's introduction to curse breaking: Don't do this, you will be tempted, all the books say to do this—DON'T. Do this instead: and there was a 10-step process of elimination in how to break the twenty most common types of curses. It was really useful information. Why get fancy when you can get simple? A bezoar catch-all for curse breaking.

Soon he was enveloped for real this time, hair cascading over him, being held tightly, reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. This was a nice moment. And Harry summoned a tea cup, hoping to solidify and amplify this as a positive memory. And as the hair brushed his face while they were both reading the same text, he couldn't help but think of something else, laughing softly to himself.

"What?"

"It's nothing…" but the very thought of it made him cringe, unable to keep a straight face.

"WHAT?" Snape demanded more aggressively.

"I can't…" Harry smiled, trying not to laugh. "Never mind. It's nothing."

So he was held tightly and squeezed as punishment. "What? What's so funny?" and the threat was right at his ear, the hair still brushing his face. Harry's mouth screwed up in a grin he couldn't hold. "WHAT?" Snape squeezed him even tighter.

"Stop…" he laughed. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't… "I wasn't going to bring it up but…" and he leaned into Snape's cascading hair. "Please, don't be angry…" and Harry grinned ear to ear, "but when did you buy a copy of Lockhart's book?"

"BUY IT!?" Snape roared, violently shoving him off. "BUY IT!? HE GAVE IT TO ME! AT ST. MUNGO'S!"

Harry burst out laughing.

"No, no, NO, you have NO IDEA, Potter! I was in HELL. Sharing a ward with Lockhart, listening to him prattle on… I thought I DIED and went to hell. A cruel, creative hell designed only for me. I was convinced."

And now Harry was covering his mouth with his hand, trying to stop, seeing the anger building up in Snape's face. He was grabbed by the shoulders and shaken violently when his laughter did not subside.

"Oh yes, very funny. Waking up from death to Lockhart's teeth hovering right over you. And he's getting better! Which is infinitely worse. Fan clubs, books, letters, visitors—and telling me how to spin my near death into a BOOK. DEAL. Such a laugh."

Harry, who had managed to successfully stop laughing… started to leak… and then had to fight off the talons that clawed at him—punishing him for his mirth. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" was all that he could get out.

Snape pulled him up close, whispering dangerously. "I healed faster just to escape that wretched room. Oh, no. OH NO. We're visiting him now. I shall not be the only one to suffer."

"No, please don't…. he's terrible…" and he didn't know how it happened, but Snape was on top of him while both of Harry's wrists were imprisoned in one hand. 'Should I send him a thank you letter' was on his brain, but the price was too steep to pay. So Harry just grinned up at him instead, letting the moment breathe, smiling with his eyes.

The kissing that followed was incredible, his lips bitten in-between any straggling laugh for punishment. Harry didn't know how seriously to take Snape's threat of visiting Lockhart, so he decided to let it go, hoping that it would never happen.

"Severus…"

"Yes…"

Harry coughed to steal a moment, trying to get five inches between them.

"I'm leaving in little over a week. I have a month and a half before work, but I'll probably start sooner than that. I know Grimmauld Place is not the best, but…"

Snape's face hardened."I will be busy over the summer."

Harry blinked, unable to comprehend this refusal to see him after term. "What's that supposed to m-"

"It will be few and far between. The castle is half-done, it has to be finished over the summer. It has to be."

"Oh, right." Harry said, letting go of the surge of panic he just felt. "Sooo, you're not going to see me much, then?"

"Temporary… Grimmauld Place is fine. I will make time, but it won't be what either of us want." And they kissed for several minutes, settling this agreement into place. "Is that okay…?" he asked softly into an ear. "I cannot sacrifice any more time away… I need to focus on the castle… it's important…"

"Yes…" Harry breathed. "I understand."

"If… if it's not enough, I will make you a priority… but…" he trailed off, his voice not sounding like himself.

"No, that's fine. We'll plan in advance. We'll figure it out."

"And you won't be asked to sacrifice your job at the Ministry once you start. You will be busy. We will be busy."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he was pleased that Snape would throw Hogwarts to the gutter if Harry somehow demanded it. And after thirty minutes of this grim mutual understanding of priorities, Harry was able to study a little in silence as Snape graded papers.

Their short-lived time was over.

They shared a deep goodbye kiss in the classroom. As he was leaving, Harry slipped a roll of parchment into Snape's hands, the door slowly closing between them. Unfurling it, Snape's eyes widened at the filthy 'essay' Harry wrote, the ten things he wanted to try—a full scene of wretched filth he didn't even know he was capable of writing. Snape looked up and their eyes met right as the door shut.

C.H.A.R.M.S. were Monday. Study groups abandoned, everyone crammed however and wherever like their life depended on it during the weekend. The panicked intensity felt like each student was personally studying for their own Tri-Wizard Tournament task. But today Harry had something important to do.

"Harry, where are we going?"

"Up here, come on, we're almost there."

"Oh, this is beautiful!" she moaned, looking over Hogwarts from the newly repaired and magically reinforced North Tower.

"Rumor is Trelawney is getting her tower room back next year. Don't think she can teach Transfiguration up there, it's too small."

"Really? I wonder who's going to teach it. …Oh, I missed this view. Smells wonderful. Too windy to study up here though, isn't it?"

He cast Muffliato and several wards around them, turning to face her, her eyes wide, silently questioning the precautions.

"Hermione, I have something to tell you." Her mouth opened, seeing the seriousness in his eyes… feeling how alone they were. "Something… important. No matter what it is, please just listen. I need you to be open to what I'm going to say."

He could see her brain working during this preemptive speech, looking very concerned.

"I'm serious—" he warned her, "if I tell you I got into the Dark Arts and I'm considering taking over, and 'need a Bellatrix by my side,' I want you to hear me out, and not hex me. Or talk me out of it. Can you do that?"

"Is it that bad?" Harry did not answer and she raised her eyebrow.

"I'm dating someone."

"I know, Harry. You asked for a sex book. We've discussed this. Who is it?"

"I need your word that you'll hear me out and be supportive no matter what I tell you. Don't jump to conclusions. I don't want to hide my relationship from you, it feels weird. I just want us to be friends and talk about things normally."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Moaning Myrtle. If I told you I'm dating Moaning Myrtle, and I'm going to Floo back once a week to snog her in the bathroom, what would you say?"

"I'd say you've lost your mind, Harry. I'd take you to the hospital wing."

"But would you hear me out?"

She thought about this. "…Yes," she decided. "Yes, I would, but I'd need some really good reasons, because none of those spells work on ghosts. …Well, a few of them might."

Harry took the biggest breath of his life. "Snape. I'm going with Snape." He stared her down and waited.

To her credit she poker faced it before her mouth popped in a little "O" thinking of his dubious healing lesson 'lies', the seventh-year potions book, and maybe a few other obvious give-away details. "Harry… well. That is news."

"Right. So… so… do you think you can be okay… with…?"

She wasn't yelling, that was good… in fact, she looked rather thoughtful. "This isn't another joke? I'm allowed to respond now?"

"Not a joke. It's Snape. We're making… after Hogwarts plans."

"But he's a teacher," she said, like this was all the information needed.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Listen, before you say anything, I just want to say this: our relationship is working. I know that sounds weird and… inappropriate, but it's working for us. And I want you to observe us together before making a judgement."

"Is he still giving you the Draft of Connection?" It was a direct question he wasn't ready for.

"He's not," and he thought he managed to sound quite convincing.

"How do you know he stopped giving it to you?" She gave him a side eye, too smart for his lies. "Do you know how weird that was, to slip us all something without saying anything?"

"I don't really care, Hermione," he admitted defiantly, not seeing why she thought a harmless little potion like that was an issue. "That potion isn't even dangerous. He probably didn't feel the need to tell us."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "Harry, if he's been feeding you the Draught of Connection all year… how… how is that okay with you? Do you need help? Harry…"

"Everything is fine Hermione. I've consented to it—I know that he's doing it. I don't care."

And now she looked terrified. "Manipulation. It's manipulation. He's manipulating you, Harry! He's feeding you a potion to strengthen your relationship artificially. Little by little—that potion builds up!"

"That's not what it does! It… it highlights the good moments of a meeting, making them more memorable. Easier to remember. Solidifying them. It's not dangerous at all!"

"Love potion… love potion wears off. Memories and perception, those are permanent! He's a skilled Potions Master. He KNOWS what he's doing! He knows how to manipulate people legally and effectively; he TEACHES the legal course! He doesn't need a love potion, does he?"

"And I KNOW that he's doing it! I said: I've consented to it!" Harry raised his voice. "You don't…. don't understand!" and she didn't. How was he going to word this? "When I'm alone with him, I DON'T have a bunch of good memories, laughing and joking or whatever. He's not sweeping me off my feet, or… being some sort of great person. He's just being himself, which includes kind of being awful. He upsets me on purpose or push my buttons. He's not manufacturing good memories for us to have. If he's trying to manipulate me, he's doing a piss poor job actually—because I'm mad at him all the time!"

"That sounds terrible!"

"I know!" he exclaimed. "And if you spent an ounce of time with us, you would know that it's great."

"Harry, you need to think logically! Show me that you understand. You hate Snape… and now he's—"

"I don't hate Snape. I haven't hated him since I saw those memories."

"AND ABOUT THAT. He is in love with your mum. How did you get around that?"

"We…we… uh, we haven't talked about that." And he knew he was in trouble now.

"You haven't TALKED ABOUT IT? So, you're just ignoring it!?"

"He doesn't confuse me with her, I know that he doesn't. TRUST ME that I know."

This wasn't going at all the way he wanted. She was too perceptive… and he didn't want to give her any more incriminating information than he had to.

"Hermione," he decided to divulge, "I'm… I'm working through some things. And the things I'm working through involve… stuff. Bad stuff. Snape is… assisting me… working through some bad feelings I have. I need to feel bad… to feel better. I don't want to say more than that."

"So, he IS abusing you… in some aspect? Is that what you're telling me?"

"NO!" Harry said frustrated, wishing he could take back this whole conversation. "It's… controlled, isolated… like, if we set a timer, and only bad things happen in that timer… It's… it's none of your business NOW that I think about it!" He straightened, "and DON'T tell anyone Snape's been feeding me potions, that's no one's business either. He's good to me in his own way, trust me, please, Hermione..." and then he was begging. "Please… trust me…"

She shook her head. "Harry, no, I don't think I can trust your judgement on this."

"Not fair," he narrowed his eyes, accusatory. "If I showed up outside the girl's dormitory in the middle of the night on a broomstick, saying we needed to leave immediately, you would do it. If I showed up anywhere, at any time, and said 'we're in danger,' you'd go with me. You trust me implicitly, right?"

"Of course I would, and yes, Harry! And I'm saying: someone TWICE your age slipping you potions is THE DANGER… and you should listen to me! YOU are not getting on MY BROOM in this scenario. You are refusing to be saved—YOU are not TRUSTING ME by listening to logic!"

"You don't know that!" Harry bit at her. "You are suspecting the worst; you're not listening to me! There's no danger here! Hermione, I'm telling you this because I trust you. I am not asking your permission, I'm telling you because I don't want to lie to you. And if I'm dating Snape this summer, you'll be around us and you'll see he's not a monster under the surface." But his lip twitched, thinking he was sort of a monster under the surface... and how he didn't exactly mind that. "This conversation is just a courtesy. A notice. We're together. SO! Can you handle that?"

"Harry, you've had great taste all your life." She shook her head. "This is very off brand for you."

"No, it's not…"

"Harry… are you even… Are you even…? I don't care if you are… but I didn't get that impression from you."

He looked away, which was a little more telling than words. "I… no. No, I'm not. But… I'm not straight either. And I've known THAT for a while." He shook his head, disappointed in her. "I thought you'd be rather understanding about that, actually."

"And I am understanding about that, but I've only seen you look at girls."

"It's hard to look at anything with Lord Voldemort blocking your view, isn't it?"

"Alright, tell me this, Harry: list FIVE things you like about Snape, the teacher you've hated since first year."

All of Harry's reasons immediately jumped to wandwork. He swallowed. "He ummm…" He closed his eyes and opened them again, not ready for this line of questioning. "When I'm around him, I feel excited, nervous excited, like I'm about to enter a duel or match. He's always brewing something… or has some piece of knowledge that I don't know. He's… changed several things about himself... to make himself more appealing, which was… on my request. He gives me a lot of push back, like you do. He's smart… and uhh…" and he stopped making excuses. "Hermione, he reminds me a lot of you. He has an endless amount of knowledge, and I'm surprised every time I'm around him, always seeing new magic, like I just showed up to Hogwarts, day one, and everything is surprising and incredible. And I enjoy talking with him, I enjoy him fussing over my bad decisions. I enjoy arguing with him. AND he shows affection in unspoken and creative ways. Unspoken affection, because there are days or hours I don't feel like talking. But then we end up talking a lot, because arguing makes me talk, and then we're not arguing anymore, just… discussing things… and then…" and then we're snogging.

"It's not one-sided," he pressed. "I've asked him for things, and he's complied. I've told him not to do things, and he's complied. AND he gave me the Draught of Acceptance to make me feel better, and then I stopped avoiding Ron after that, and now I don't see… Lupin's… dead body every time I close my eyes. This is not some weird... one sided relationship. I have my own agency here. And if you spent an ounce of time with us, you'd know that."

"Harry," she said dead set and not swayed. "I think he's bad for you. I don't think he's a bad person. I think you're misjudging trauma for a relationship. I think he's giving you a relationship strengthening potion on purpose because he knows you wouldn't have otherwise. I wish you would stop taking anything he gives you for an entire month to see how you feel. …Except Snape knows what he's doing: good memories may take years to wear off, and some only strengthen with time. He knows what he's doing."

WHO CARES was Harry's first thought. "Hermione! I LIKE that he's giving me the potion! I like everything that I'm consenting to. My relationship is very interesting and has a lot of unusual aspects to it."

She was struggling now, shaking her head, frustrated that he wouldn't see sense, unable to get through to him.

"SO you think I'm being controlled. FINE. Just be by my side, then. Just be my friend and find out."

"WHY? WHY would I let you do any of this, Harry?"

"Hermione!" he snarled. "You don't have a choice! It's over! I am already with him! Draco already knows, and he doesn't give a rat's ass what we do!"

"Draco knows?" she asked, completely insulted he didn't tell her.

"AND McGonagall!" he added for good measure.

"MCGONAGALL!?" she shrieked. Now this was just too far.

"If I was being raped, or… COERCED or… DRUGGED, wouldn't she strangle him herself?"

She didn't have an answer for this.

"TRUST ME, Hermione. Don't. Trust. Snape. Trust me. I love you like I've never loved anyone in my entire life. I need you. I need you in my corner, no matter what happens. Please. Be there for me. Ron is my best mate… but you… you're my other best mate. You understand me better, I think."

Taken back by these intense declarations of love and friendship, and the knowledge that McGonagall knows, she was at a loss.

"Of course, Harry. I will spend time with both of you and reserve my judgement." Looking into her eyes, Harry knew. He could tell her anything and she would not break or turn away from him. She would be there for him, no matter what.

Feeling the world around him… the warm wind, Hermione's hair turning almost golden in the full sun—yes, it was easy today. His wand tip found his chest, pulling slowly, the light erupting. The ball of light hovered between them.

"Can I give this to you? …Please?"