Thank you again, Zeugma412!

BlueWater5: Thank you! I hope to, at least adequately, convey what Severus is going through. And yes, like the first fic, this mysterious illusion charm is another creation of mine.

"Let someone love you the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room."

– Jean-Frederic Schall

CHAPTER 12: Against the Shore

March 22nd, 2002

[Harry Potter]

"It's fine, Ginny."

"Fine? You're freaking out again, so it's clearly not fine. What did you see?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

Harry paced the sitting room in front of the quietly crackling fireplace in his pyjamas, trying to rid his mind of the terrible dreams he relived again that night.

He dreamt of his wife again – laying bleeding and helpless within the magical confines of the selenite cage she was trapped within during their rescue almost four years ago. The night they planned infiltration and rescue of captives at the Tintern Quarry, and their bid to fight back against the rogue Death Eaters after the fall of Voldemort. Ginny was one of the captives, along with many others. Trapped and alone, and yet they lost one the victims in their attempt to save them that night.

It could have been Ginny.

But his dream – nightmare – was distorted. Ginny was still trapped in the cage, but every step towards her, caused her to scream in agony as if they were sticking red hot pins into her skin. They were torturing her…killing her.

And it was all Harry's fault.

Harry awoke in angry tears again and stormed out of the bedroom in his bid to compose himself. Ginny hastily followed in her attempt to console him, but he could barely cast his eyes upon her feeling shameful and defeated. All he could see was her bruised and bloodied form laying almost motionless within her cage. Her injured formed scared him senseless and it was so raw and real, it felt like he was back in that moment again.

"Talk to me Harry, " Ginny bit her lip, breaking into his racing thoughts, cautious to even touch him at this point, "I'll send word to Hermione, and we can see her another day…You know she'll understand…"

Harry shook his head and turned back to his wife, shifting his eyes away from her periodically, "No, go see her. I don't fancy on going anywhere today, anyway."

Ginny's shoulders slumped, "Harry, I'm not just going to leave you here by yourself."

Turning away from his wife and away from her worried look, Harry reached within his pocket with a tremoring hand and withdrew the Animo Silentium elixir, procuring three delicate pearly drops right onto his tongue. He knew Ginny would not have been impressed with his usage again, but he needed something to take the edge off, "…I'll be fine here. Honestly."

He could feel Ginny's eyes boring into him, "Harry…"

Lowering his voice, Harry turned back to her in his bid to approach this calmly, "Go and spend the day with Hermione. I think I just prefer to rest in today. Honestly…I'll be okay. I'll probably just work on the rest of my assignments or something."

His wife stared at him for the longest time with her concerned hazel eyes, searching for his own as if he were lost at sea. It was a struggle for Harry to see Ginny look at him in that way, like some pity case. He knew she felt sorry for him and was powerless, but her patience with him was just what he needed. He just needed her to understand his need to take things slowly with his own health, which he knew was all but a little rickety boat in the brewing storm. Sometimes the sea was calm, the next thing a wave would hit, and would take a while for things to calm down until that storm eventually passed. Right now, his mind was like chopped waves. Calm enough to stay on the surface, but chaotic enough that things were simply just unsettled for that point in time. It could be worse, but it could also be far better.

Ginny took a few steps toward Harry and wrapped her arms around his torso. Harry squeezed back and together they held each other comfortably for several precious moments, not wanting to let go of the warmth Ginny shared with him. He buried his head amongst her ginger red hair, drawing in the subtle scent of her which always smelled like dried rose petals. Pulling back from the embrace, Harry caressed his wife's freckled cheek with his thumb, in desperate reassurance, "I love you, Ginny."

"I love you too, Harry, " Ginny responded softly, but soon her expression turned stern, "You know I always will. I'm just…worried about you. As always."

"I know, " Harry took her hands tenderly within his own and smiled with the weakest of smiles, "Once you come return home later, maybe we can take our broomsticks for a spin through the Highlands and sit by the Great Lake, or something."

Wriggling her nose mischievously, she raised her eyebrow with the cheekiest smile she could muster, "Is this your way of a date?"

Harry gave a small chuckle, "If you want it to be."

"I'd love that."

Despite Harry still reeling over his nightmare, the morning continued on as casual as usual. Harry really did not want to talk about it further and the only one who really knew of his nightmares of Ginny was Severus of all people. Otherwise, his own wife was oblivious to it and how much that deeply affected him. He couldn't bear to lose her again, as they've built their lives together so carefully and with love that Harry was able to strengthen and grow with her. They had a future together and he didn't want to ruin that in the constant worry of something happening. He knew that Ginny suspected as such, but she was unaware of the image of her within his nightmares which he could not escape from.

There was even a point when Harry considered asking Hermione to Obliviate the memory, but he was more than worried upon her reaction to it, which he knew was not going to bode well. Hermione would have lectured him on the implications of that, the potential of losing more than just the worst memories. Despite that Harry knew that Hermione was unable to retrieve all the memories of her parents that she had modified for them when she sent them to Australia for their safety. Some of the restored memories were broken in places, but memory modification and removal were a delicate field of magic.

Harry just could not afford to lose the good ones, because, in all honesty, they were the only ones truly keeping him going.

Once Harry had convinced Ginny to leave for the day for her own wellbeing, he got stuck back into the last of his assignments, which he promised to himself that he'd finish. Within the silence of his home by himself, he was able to chip away at the lengthy essay almost nearing its completion. With each passing piece of parchment, he felt a small modicum of relief as he neared the end of his studies. He had worked so hard on this for so long and was determined to put as much effort within it as he could. At least now, he was working towards something fulfilling and exciting, and something he would be able to enjoy and guide those who were once as young as he was.

Not that Harry was old, of course. Considering the life he had lived already in such a short amount of time, sometimes he felt far older than he was.

Leaving the assignment at rest to continue another day, Harry decided to go for a walk within Godric's Hollow for some fresh air. Usually, he would head to his own sanctuary by the beach's rocky inlet for a change in scenery, but he didn't feel comfortable venturing too far from home at this time. Not that he was afraid to be alone, of course. However, it was more the fact that he wasn't in the mood to deal with people that day.

Instead, he decided to visit the graves of his parents on the overcast spring day just as the church bells chimed at midday.

Adorned in a Muggle light brown jacket and jeans, Harry exited his home after his usual ward habitual security rounds and ventured down towards the village centre. Gone was the usual frost of the end of winter, leaving whatever sunlight to pierce through and warm up the cobblestone paths and street lanes. The quaint village was lined with almost identical stone and wooden cottages, almost like his own, colored by the freshly blooming flowers of their front gardens. Each front door was uniquely colored in its wood, as a culmination of navy, maroon, mustard yellow, moss greens, and dark plum. Harry had always found this particular village feature quite stylish and set the Hollow different from all the other Muggle and magical abodes.

He really did enjoy the serenity of the place. And he most particularly loved that magical folk and Muggles lived together in harmony, even though the Muggle families were oblivious to the magic surrounding them. Somehow, that left a warmth in Harry's heart knowing that even the Muggles were safe and protected within this community. A few of Harry's favourite neighbours were Muggles and although they had no idea who he was, they often donated bags of fresh apples and vegetables from their own gardens in their hospitality and genuine kindness.

And that was another thing Harry loved about being there – Not everyone knew who he was and what he had done, and he took much comfort in that.

That was also a small measure of relief.

Turning the familiar corner past the low crumbled stone wall, he entered the large cemetery and made his way directly to where his parents were laid to rest. On some of the days when he needed to clear his head, this was the other place he'd likely to be. He much preferred to go alone, but sometimes Ginny would accompany him, especially on the anniversary of their deaths. For two years after the Second War ended, Harry and Severus made the effort to visit together. But Severus had stopped going from the third year when he retreated in recluse and still struggled to come to terms with his part in all of it. That was around when the letters stopped, and the man needed some time to deal with things alone.

However, he hoped to keep that sort of tradition up with Severus on Halloween night, now that the both of them were back to seeing each other a little more regularly again. He was comforted by the fact that it was their little ritual, and only the pair of them would truly understand the need to be there.

Finally reaching the old tombstones with his parents' name etched upon its worn, cold surface, he lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged before them. Next to the grave was three newer headstones – Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks. It was no question where he wanted the others to lay to rest, even despite Sirius not having a body to bury. A tombstone was erected in his memory and that was the most he was able to honour him at the time once Minister Shacklebolt finally and rightfully cleared his name. Andromeda had also agreed to bury her daughter and her husband here, in her desire to keep her own family together.

This cemetery had become the resting place of many magical War heroes lost in the First and Second Wizarding War, and there were times when Harry would visit to find fresh flowers and candles set upon them. Even that of his parents. He never knew who the visitors were, but the sentiment was heart-warming and meant a lot to him regardless of who they were from.

'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'

Harry's eyes rested upon the text written below the names of his parents. Even still to this day, the text was strange. Death was never really destroyed, only delayed. No one could defeat death, not even Voldemort himself. Although now it all seemed like something that happened centuries ago. Even he struggled to comprehend that the War was finally over, and he no longer had to worry about trying to survive against a power-hungry, immortality-seeking sorcerer.

He looked over to Remus and Tonks' white marble grave and gave a sad, lopsided smile, "Teddy is in good hands. He's safe. Blimey, I still can't believe he'll be four, soon."

Harry took a moment to pause in thought, slowly releasing a small chuckle, "The little bugger chased Godric around the house the other day. I might have to look into getting him a pet, although I need to keep in mind not to tell Hagrid that. He'll probably send him a baby dragon, or something."

He laughed again to himself and soon realized how silly he sounded talking aloud to headstones, eventually he bit his lip to silence himself. He only wished they were here in person. He missed their voices, their smiles, their words of wisdom…He missed them all. He would do anything just to hold them all in his arms again. To hear their laughs and kind words, just one more time so he wouldn't ever forget.

It was unfair that they couldn't be there to see him grow older. To see his love and marriage with Ginny. To raise Teddy with Andromeda. To see everyone else creating a family and being a part of one. To see everyone securing a life and future for themselves. He only wished they could have all been a part of it.

Harry found his eyes stinging and wet with tears, "I really wish you were all here. I miss you all…so much."

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his weary eyes with his hands. Finally, he pulled himself up from the dewy grassy mounds and made the short journey back home.

However, the moment he entered through his front door, all emotions seemed to bubble to the surface, and he immediately choked back a sob the moment he closed the door. He couldn't help the cascade of tears which began to flow, and he was only grateful that he was home alone so that no one could see him in such a state. He managed to stumble back to his room and pulled out a small golden box from the mantle. Pulling out his wand behind his tear-skewed vision, he tapped the box on its surface and allowed it to click open.

Nestled comfortable within its red velvet blanket, was the obsidian-coloured Resurrection Stone.

Removing the box from its perch, he walked back to the bed and sat down on its edge with the delicate box within his shaking grasp. He stared at the Stone so intensely, that so many of his thoughts ran rampant within his mind. Oh, he wanted so desperately to use it. He wanted to talk to his parents again…To Sirius…To Remus…To Cedric…To Fred…To Dobby…

His body shook with several sobs once more, wrestling with such a decision. He wanted to use it, but he knew deep down his wife would be completely against the idea. Regardless of what he wanted; he knew she was right – Making this act a habit could have such disastrous effects. But also, Ginny was unable to understand that the only relatives he had were the Dursleys, and he could hardly count them as family.

He just longed for the reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Really, okay.

Somehow.

As his vision was distorted from his own tears, he frustratingly cast the box and the Stone aside and pulled out the elixir once more. The now half-empty vial was tempting and glistening with the potion he knew would help settle his nerves. Without any further care and not remembering the last time it passed his lips, he placed four pearly drops onto his tongue and resealed the vial.

Slipping it back within the safety of his pocket, he curled up onto the bed, falling back against his pillow.

His eyes soon grew heavy, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

March 25th, 2002

[Dawn Rheingold]

The first rays of light began to pierce softly through the color-stained arch window of her quarters within Gryffindor Tower.

With bleary eyes, Dawn glanced over at the ticking wooden clock with a lion engraved upon its surface in such an ornate, elegant handmade style. The days were growing longer and yet it seemed as if there still were still never enough hours in a day.

She was still seated at her desk, scribbling away upon multiple pieces of parchment highlighting all the evidence and information they had in their possession. She did attempt some sleep overnight, however, she found herself periodically waking up and new ideas plaguing her mind, so she spent multiple hours at her desk instead. She suspected she managed a few hours of sleep at best, but it seemed she'd have to rely on a few less-than-ideal magical methods to keep her alert for the day ahead.

Dawn was determined to make it to the library at some point that day, knowing her weekend was filled with meetings at the Auror office with her team and the Head of the Auror Department. Not to mention an impromptu meeting with the Minister in light of their most recent discoveries. She would very much look forward to reigning Harry Potter in as a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, to enable her extra time to her own work. But unfortunately, that was still quite a time away. The lack of Professors to the ever-growing curriculum was indeed exhausting, and she could only guess that could have contributed to Minerva's recent stress. She even had to wonder if any of her interviews recently had been successful, and Dawn was getting more than worn-out standing in for several Charms classes on behalf of Flitwick and even the occasional Potions lesson. A standard wizarding virus was not exactly the illness she wanted to sweep through the school, and luckily for her, she was able to evade it in time with some protective measures.

The poor Healers themselves couldn't evade it this time.

Barely hearing the pop on the opposite side of her door, she heard a few timid knocks, and soon enough, one of the younger house elves made their appearance.

"Would Ms. Rheingold like breakfast in bed again?"

"Not this morning, Trixie. It's Monday, regrettably, so I best be in the Great Hall."

"As you wish, " The house elf responded in a slight scratchy voice. It's oversized ears bent low, as if it were scolded.

Dawn gave a tired smile, "Thank you for remembering. However, perhaps I'll have an extra strong coffee to start. It may be best to caffeinate myself before I step out of Gryffindor Tower, or I may just accidentally dish out a points deduction in my sleep-deprived stupor to a poor unsuspecting student."

"As you wish – "

" - Oh, " Before the House elf raised her tiny hand to disappear, Dawn quickly added, "And I'd love it if you could steal me a few of those chocolate-covered shortbreads. Before Gregory plows through it again."

"At your service, Master, " With a bow and a pop, Trixie disappeared.

Once Dawn reshuffled her parchment upon her messy desk, the house elf returned with a large mug of coffee and a delicious plateful of the shortbread, with the scent of the roasted beans immediately reinvigorating her senses. As Trixie returned to the kitchens, she leaned back in her chair cradling the mug in her hands, and studied the evidence before her. She had already utilized Minerva's Pensieve within her office in order to revisit the latest crime scene, but the memory itself appeared slightly skewed.

She picked up a chocolate-covered shortbread as she pondered and took a satisfied bite, feeling the richness of the chocolate pair well with the coffee.

With Ronald's mention of not trusting the evidence due to the illusion charm, Dawn had been questioning even her own memory and recollection. She didn't often doubt herself, but this case had made her uneasy the more it unravelled. With no real leads and more Muggleborn victims piling up, they were all at a bit of a loss. Raphael was looking into some leads, but in the meantime, they were sitting ducks again.

Finally taking herself into the shower, she doused herself with hot soapy water and stepped into a fresh set of navy and silver robes to start her day. She ensured her ashy dark blonde hair was braided neatly at one side, allowing the rest of her damp hair to curl into its natural waves. With a flourish of her wand, the multiple pieces of evidence, parchments, and vials of memories packed themselves away into a small chest at her bedside, and with a click, its lid sealed shut. With a scribble of her wand in the air above the chest, she drew a golden sigil above and chanted a string of foreign words under her breath and with a final comforting glow, they were sealed away from prying eyes.

Once she composed herself, she exited her quarters to make her way to the Great Hall for breakfast with the rest of the Hogwarts faculty and students. Generally speaking, she was a morning person, but she had so much on her mind given recent events, that sleep was not necessarily her priority as she did not wish to waste a single moment of her day. This morning, however, she felt a little more in a disarray.

Swiftly moving through the corridors, she passed many students who should have already been seated in the Great Hall, "Miss O'Brien and Miss Warren, enough chit chat. Go to your tables, so your Prefects can complete their morning roll call in timely manner."

A chorus of slightly intimidated mumblings of, "Yes, Professor" sounded before her, as the students scurried off ahead.

Once Dawn reached the busy hall filled with equally sleep-deprived and study deranged children, she made her immediate beeline to the Professors table, seating herself in the empty chair between Gregory and Varick. She immediately poured herself a larger than usual mug of her second helping of coffee that morning, earning a hearty chuckle from the Transfiguration teacher on her left.

"That kind of morning, I presume?" Varick smirked, as he scooped a forkful of scrambled eggs from his plate.

Dawn took an immediate sip of her coffee, "Round two already. I bet you a galleon that this one won't get me through until midday."

"A galleon? Sounds like serious business, " Gregory shifted his thick, black-rimmed glasses which was slipping from his nose, raising his brow as he did so, "I pray your next class isn't a practical one. Merlin forbids, your students will be jumping through hoops with you."

"Oh, nonsense, " Dawn gave a light chuckle, as she retrieved an apple out from the basket and took a crunchy bite, "I daresay the students are well aware of how grumpy I am on Monday mornings. Caffeine just tames me right down a notch."

"I suspect the house points will vastly change by dinner time, " Varick responded, nudging his head in the direction of the hourglasses containing coloured crystals representing each House.

"It won't hurt to deduct points on occasion, you know, " Dawn frowned, in all seriousness, "You're far too easy-going. No wonder the students run more antics in your classroom, last I heard."

Gregory sniggered behind his overly large mug of tea, "She makes a valid point."

"When don't I?" Dawn shrugged, but turning her attention on the other side, she spotted Minerva finally making her way to the Headmasters' chair. She noticed the woman looked tired and slightly frailer than her usual days. Not that she looked sick, but it could not be ignored the weariness in her features and the way her gaze swept tiredly over the students eating and chatting away in the hall oblivious to the challenges the staff was dealing with. Perhaps sleep alluded her, too. However, Dawn knew the woman was undergoing a plethora of stress in recent weeks, and now that had finally begun to show.

Casting occasional glances over at Minerva throughout breakfast, she kept a watchful eye on her hoping to pick up something that perhaps the others didn't. She and Minerva spoke on occasion and the woman was respectful of her working on a current case and understanding its confidentiality. Occasionally they would convene over tea within the Headmistress' office, with Dawn ensuring that Minerva had adequate support. Running Hogwarts post-War was indeed a monumental task, but she always made sure that she could at least provide a private, listening ear if needed.

Minerva McGonagall was a powerhouse, but at times she needed a reminder that she could not bear every responsibility alone and that her colleagues were around to offer additional guidance if needed. She was so determined to do everything herself and dismiss any help offered to her, and Dawn understood that need very well. Admitting defeat was not a Gryffindor trait.

But she could not deny that something had recently disturbed Minerva, or at least, something rather significant was plaguing her mind.

A short time later, she watched as the Headmistress silently excused herself from breakfast and exited the hall as soon as the other students began to make their way to their first lesson of the day. As Dawn rose from her table to follow suite, she was approached by Horace on the other side baring her attempts to subtly seek out Minerva.

"Good morning, Dawn, " Horace gave a small nod in acknowledgement, "I require your assistance this morning in the Potions laboratory again, if you don't mind. Madam Greenwood made a count error with the Deflating Droughts and the Pepperups in the Hospital Wing."

"I suspect the Fourth-Year brews were not adequate enough?"

Horace chuckled, "Not particularly, no."

"Alright, I'll lend my aid, " Dawn nodded, snatching a savoury muffin from the table, "I'll meet you there in ten with your free period."

With a pleased look, Horace darted away disappearing amongst the crowd of students on his departure. Dawn herself was not keen for the task, as she was most particularly interested in paying the library a visit before her First Years in afternoon period one and two. She knew she didn't have a class until the afternoon period, so she had some time to spare before the day got busy.

However, the more she thought about it, the more it might actually be a wise decision to talk with the Potion's professor and hopefully pick his brain a little upon a few questions nagging in the back of her mind. Horace was a knowledgeable professor and usually quite a talkative one, so perhaps she may be able to gain some further insight from an external source. As she was currently confined to Hogwarts on Professor duty, that was the very least she could do whilst her team had more freedom beyond school walls.

Taking a casual stroll through the student-crowded corridors, and redirecting a few to their intended classrooms, she made her way down to the dungeons immediately feeling the chill of the stone through to her bones. She shivered, pulling her navy cloak tighter against her. At this rate, she may be the one needing a Pepperup potion.

Once she entered one of the private laboratories, she noticed Horace gaining a head start on their last-minute task. Dawn's nose crinkled at the earthly scent of a whole mandrake root laying on a chopping board, as she wandered closer to the work bench. Immediately, she began to clean and strip the roots.

Horace appeared rather grateful, "Thank you for your assistance. It's hard to find anyone else remotely skilled in potions these days."

Dawn scoffed to herself in disbelief, "My skills aren't that well sought out. Just because I am an Auror, does not make one particular exceptional at it."

"Quite right, but to qualify as one you would have required Exceeded Expectations in your NEWT year, " Horace explained rather sternly, "That in itself, is a marvellous feat. Potions require patience, and I know you have it."

"Well, yes, but I brew only the potions I need for the job, " Dawn grabbed the knife beside the board and begun to finely chop the mandrake root, "I know enough about herbs to be adequate in the field and that's all the knowledge I really need."

Horace took an amused glance at her ingredients preparation, then back to her focused gaze, "More than adequate, if I say so myself. I didn't even have to tell you how to prepare it."

Dawn gave a small laugh at her own expense, looking down at her preparation progress before turning back to Horace, "Fine, I'll concede this time."

Horace tapped his wand at the large cauldron between them, watching as the wooden ladle was charmed to stir in a clockwise direction. There was a period of silence between them, as Dawn watched Horace level out a teaspoon of Bicorn horn and dashed it within the warmed solution. The potion turned an off shade of orange, emitting a scent that reminded her of the Muggle cough syrup for children that her mother used to give her against her father's magical suggestions.

"You're a knowledgeable man, Horace, " Biting her lip carefully, she tilted her head towards the man who used to be her own Professor, "I have to wonder – do you have any experience or knowledge of illusion magic?"

Horace stopped dead in his tracks, as his face went as pale as milk, "Oh, uh…I do not have such knowledge in that field, I'm afraid. Perhaps Filius might be of better use?"

"Well, yes, he might, but I was thinking on a more potions side of things. Does one such potion exist out there to enable someone's judgement or vision to be clouded, or skewed? And I don't mean the likes of Veritaserum. I'm hoping to find something more…visually impairing."

Horace turned towards her, and Dawn noticed his hand was nervously shaking slightly by his side, "A student question?"

"No, more of an Auror one."

"Ah, " A deep breath of relief escaped Horace, as he turned back to the simmering potion to distract himself, "It is a rather vague question and yet you haven't given me much context."

"It's confidential and I cannot disclose details. I figured perhaps you knew something of the sort, in the world of potions, " Dawn studied the man carefully, intrigued as to why he suddenly appeared jittery and nervous, "Perhaps there is one out there that could emit something to affect the senses?"

"I'm afraid I genuinely do not know, " Horace responded quietly, "There are multiple potions that exist to deceive and trick, but nothing specific comes to mind in the area of larger scale disillusion."

"I understand, Horace, " Dawn nodded, turning to focus on her ingredients preparation, "Just extending my connections, you know. Being an Auror is an ever-learning field, even despite being in it for years."

"I'm honored you approached me about it, but I'm afraid I have nothing of value to add, " There was something in the way Horace had responded, that was peculiar and a little dismissive of her questioning. The tone in his voice had changed and was not the enthusiastic one she had hoped to hear from him.

Regardless of her observations, Dawn gave a friendly smile, "No matter. I will see what I can dig around in the library. Just figured I'd ask around before I tirelessly lose myself behind stacks of books."

"I do hope you find what you seek, " Horace scooped up the chopped mandrake from Dawn's board and placed it within the potion which had now turned a vivid red.

The next hour was spent finishing the potions with Horace, engaging in other conversations reminding Dawn of the ones she had with her grandparents in Cardiff. Horace spoke of the Holyhead Harpies' finish in second place of the recent League Cup and mentioning Ginny Weasley, who was apparently a part of something called the Slug Club – a group of students handpicked by the man himself, which was a culmination of skills and heritage. Dawn had no memory of such a club in her school days. Ginny, being a promising Quidditch player and her odd use of a hex against another, earned her a spot in the Slug Club. Dawn didn't find the appeal of such a club, and which in fact, made her feel a little uneasy with all the unnecessary competition. Why single out students and cultivate them, leaving the others out of recognition?

Dawn believed in equality in her students and having them understand that they all had an opportunity to be great and do remarkable things. Choosing a student out of many and placing them on pedestals seemed like the wrong way to go about it, and she had no place for unnecessary ego in her midst.

Once the potions were brewed and measured within its rectangular vials, Dawn finally pried herself away from the somewhat eccentric Professor and made her hasty journey to the Library to use the rest of her free period before teaching her first years about casting Vermillious, and the theory behind utilizing the need to cast red sparks.

Passing the large oak doors into the Library, she evaded Irma Pince's hawk-like gaze and confidently passed through the doors to the Restricted Section.

"Merlin, help me, " Dawn mumbled under her breath, scouring the shadowed section close to the back under the titles of Concealment, Deceit and Deception.

This was going to take a long while.

March 26th, 2002

[Severus Snape]

Severus was hardly a sentimental man.

His possessions were usually mundane at the very least and held no real personal value to him. His abode was simply designed, with fewer material things scattered about. Aside from the bracelet Lily had made for him one year at Christmas before they began at Hogwarts, nothing else held any real value to him. The bracelet was now passed onto Harry along with half the photo of Lily he essentially stole previously, and yet there had been nothing else for years.

He was never one for photographs. His idea of them was somewhat scarring. The Snape family used to have a family photo of the three of them, but they were all miserable and sullen taken at one of the worst times in their lives, and he hated every bit of it. He destroyed that photo the moment his father left after his mother ended her own life. There was no reason to keep such a painful reminder. Although he did have a photo of his mother when she was younger before he was born. She was slightly happier in it, which meant it must have been before she got involved with Tobias. He kept that photo as a mere desire of how he would have preferred to remember her by. Because there were nights he remembered her soothing his younger self with songs before bedtime when his father was home asleep. She would sing him to sleep sometimes in her soft, almost timid voice and holding him within her arms, rocking him gently as he drifted off. He remembered the soft tone of her voice, and how it used to calm him down after his father's outbursts.

But aside from the photo of her, he possessed nothing else of value.

Except now.

This photograph.

When Harry had left his company that day, he spent so much time admiring its moving snapshot until he summoned up the courage to place it on the mantle of the fireplace. It sat next to the photo of his youthful mother and now it seemed like a better family photo of Severus and Harry, without his father to ruin things.

…Family?

In the days since he received this photograph as a gift, there was always a moment when he stopped in front of it and stared at something that oddly seem to catch him off guard every time. Sometimes he got angry at himself for feeling so attached to it and storm off, beside himself. Other days he allowed those dismal emotions to wash over him and get it over and done with. He felt ashamed of himself for the few tears he did shed in the times he spent alone, and silently; he knew he had let Harry down.

Again.

All the years prior he'd been ignoring his letters and intentions to reach out to him, he essentially threw it back into his face. He struggled with the idea that anyone would be willing to reach out to him, least of all Harry Potter. Even now. But he couldn't fathom anyone wasting any time on him, because he knew Harry had far better people in his life that could provide more for him, than he could ever give.

It was an indescribable pain, which he drowned in every single day.

And yet Harry couldn't begin to understand this. He assumed he understood, but really, Harry didn't. He couldn't understand, and especially not whilst surrounded by people who loved him unconditionally.

Severus didn't have that.

After completing his mission as a triple agent, he never began to even contemplate that being a possibility. It was too risky to even consider such a thing previously and he wasn't going to risk another life within his own company. Thus, being alone and isolated was the only way he could get the job done. But back then, he had no idea he'd survive even that. And now he was alive. Alive, and yet, so alone. Barely anyone wanted any more to do with him, and frankly, he couldn't blame them for that. He wasn't exactly an easy man to understand, and his strong bitterness and self-loathing repelled anyone from even trying.

Dragging his weary feet back to the potions laboratory he had confined himself in for months, he began to drain the gillyweed that was soaking in moonwater into the empty ceramic dish by his side. Taking a tendril of the water herb, he weighed a single delicate piece on the scales and lowered it carefully into the simmering turquoise solution in front of him. Stirring three times clockwise with the ladle, the potion changed to a dark aqua hue and Severus leaned over to take in its new scent.

Satisfied by the smell of a salty sea, he procured a ladle full and dropped it neatly into what looked like an empty shot glass. Taking a deep breath, he downed the liquid in one go and leaned back against the wooden table to be able to weigh up its effects in all his concentration.

Barely half a minute later, Severus felt a burn rising within his chest and quickly stumbled his way to the bathroom where he ended up heaving and vomiting into the toilet. Mad with himself, he cleaned up his mess and went back to the potion immediately waving his wand to vanish the failed attempt. He grabbed the quill and scribbled almost angrily on the parchment crossing and dashing ink here and there, carelessly leaving blotches against the paper.

Another failed experiment. How long was he going to keep this up?

With an angry growl, he leaned forward suddenly and hit his fists against the surface of the rickety wooden table, causing several vials to tip and scatter its remnants all over the floor. He breathed heavily through his nose in his bid to calm himself down, but it was no use.

He failed, again.

With his fists still clenched in fury, he exited his lab and walked to the kitchen to pour himself another glass of whiskey.

What…what good am I?