Chapter 1: Return to Shell Cottage
Shell Cottage had seen a good deal of traffic over the years, and had undergone a real-space expansion to add sleeping quarters and a bathroom on the main level as the Potter family grew. Yet neither Harry nor Severus had wanted to change much of anything else and it retained the simple charm of the days of Harry's school years, with oddly-matched furniture, cozy cushions and cumbersome beach furniture from Dumbledore's days. The new room facced the ocean and offered a wall of windows to let in the sea breeze and the peaceful moonlight.
On July 1st, just after noon, Severus Snape stepped out of the Floo into the cottage, still wearing his headmaster's robes. He made his way directly to the porch and one by one opened the row of windows, stopping before the last one to gaze at the ocean.
He let out a breath – a breath he felt like he'd been holding for several weeks – and moved directly into the add-on bedroom through the door opposite the stairs that led off the porch and down the path to the ocean. He pulled open the double doors that led out to a small veranda and turned to face the room.
He regarded it a long moment, still unaccountably pleased that Harry and Ginny had taken care to match the rest of the house when they'd set up the room, then a curious smile played at his lips and he flicked the wand that hadn't been in his hand a moment before.
The bed morphed into something new, similar only to the one Harry had slept on so often in those summer days of his teen years in that the mattress was filled with water. Firmer, steadier, a bit taller, with a comfortable padded headboard, slightly reclined.
He was walking up the stairs, trying not to think of all that had to be done still to prepare for tomorrow, when the Floo flared. Hermione, he thought. Early as usual. He smiled as he reversed direction, but the Floo flared again just as he stepped into the sitting room and Bill Weasley dusted himself off.
"I thought we might need reinforcements for the transfiguration," Hermione said as she brushed a kiss on Severus cheek, much as she'd first done all those years ago in exactly this place.
Severus swallowed. Bill Weasley was the closest match to Hermione and Minerva in transfiguration skills.
Bill reached for Severus' hand. "How are you holding up?" he asked, glancing around fondly at the cottage he'd called home in those tumultuous months just after his wedding.
"Well enough," Severus answered. "I've been down this road once or twice before."
"Not with a house full of children," Hermione reminded him.
He leveled a look at her and her eyes widened, but then she laughed. "We were teenagers, Severus!"
"And teenagers are easier to handle than young children?" He raised an eyebrow and led them through the kitchen to the porch, then extracted from a robe pocket the packet of instructions the Healer at St. Mungo's had sent him that morning. Hermione took the packet and began to look through it as he spoke.
"We want to have comfortable places in every room on this level. He loves the hammock – I think we can make that work. I've taken care of the bedroom already but the veranda need attention. Hermione, perhaps a Muggle-style recliner in the sitting room? And space – plenty of space for him to walk without anything underfoot. The children will have to be particularly careful with their toys, and everyone will leave their shoes at the front door as they tend to be scattered willy-nilly throughout the cottage in the summertime. Bill, perhaps shoe cubbies by the door?"
Hermione took his arm as Bill took the packet from Hermione and extracted his wand, studying the packet then the hammock. Hermione took Severus' arm and led him into the sitting room and pointed to the sofa.
"Sit, Severus. We've got it. We understand what's needed. Give yourself some breathing time."
Bill appeared a few moments later and dropped into the chair Albus had always used in their late-night chess games. Severus still had trouble not seeing him in it, no matter who occupied the seat. Bill leaned forward and rested a hand on Severus' knee.
"You're taking on quite a bit, Severus. We can do more – all of us. George would be happy to make the potions, and …."
"I can handle the potions," Severus stated emphatically. "I prefer to brew them myself. I'll have plenty of help on the weekends. It is quite enough that you are all helping out with the children."
Hermione, who was changing the color of the recliner she'd transfigured from green to grey, chuckled. "We won't even notice them, Severus. Do you know how many we're already chasing around at the Burrow?"
"I am fully aware," Severus answered. "However, one of them will be Jamie Potter."
"Gin is still talking about gettig out of her contract," Bill warned, settling back in his chair and regarding Severus seriously.
"She cannot. She must not. She will regret it forever." Severus was tired of this argument. They'd finally secured her commitment to go on with her plans to rejoin the Harpies as a starting Chaser only a week ago.
"She's going," Hermione stated emphatically. She sat in the recliner and leaned back, sighing as the footrest caught her feet and lifted them upward. "She's been looking forward to this season forever – she spent all last season training and getting back in shape after Lily."
"I have assured her that Harry will have one hundred percent of my attention for the summer. And if more rehabilitation is needed after August, I will take a leave of absence from Hog – "
Hermione's "Severus!" was nearly drowned out by Bill's "Are you mad?" But Severus remained stoic.
"He is my son. Your parents would do the same for you."
"We're not arguing that point," Hermione said, lowering her voice and the footrest and putting her feet back on the floor. "But you can't miss next year, Severus. You've been planning the Tri-Wizard tournament for years! You have to be there!"
"Harry will be fine by then," Bill insisted. "He's determined to recover even faster than the healers predict."
Severus sighed. "They have very little experience with the chemicals he inhaled in that fire," he said quietly, finally voicing the worry he'd held since he'd first seen Harry at St. Mungo's four weeks ago after the explosion that had killed three Aurors, including his partner. It was a parent's nightmare, but he would never forget the look on Ginny's face when he'd walked into that waiting room.
But for now, he had a mission. Get his son home. Follow the strict regimen of potions and therapy prescribed by the Ministry healers. Keep Harry's body rested, his mind focused, and help him deal with the grief he'd stoically suppressed.
He stood, shooing away Bill's protests. "Lets' get on with it. They're transferring him first thing tomorrow morning. There's a lot to do still."
Before Bill and Hermione left several hours later, Molly and Arthur had arrived to put away the mountain of groceries they'd brought and to ready the upstairs bedrooms for Severus and the children. Neville Longbottom, the new Herbology professor at Hogwarts, arrived soon after with Severus' trunks and brewing supplies, which Severus directed him to stow in one of the upstairs bedrooms if he could navigate around Molly and Arthur. Ron Flooed in with the trunk Ginny had packed for Harry, and the lot of them had settled on the porch for tea at Molly's insistence.
It was an exhausted Severus who collapsed onto the sofa at five thirty when the last of them had gone. In reality, there wasn't much left to do. They had enough food to feed an army, including all of Harry's favorites. There were toys and games for the children's visits, clothing, books, butterbeer and fire whiskey and a bit of Minerva's scotch. Every room had a comfortable and appropriate place for Harry to recline, for he wasn't to lie flat on his back but rather at the prescribed angle.
Harry would hate it, but they'd suffer through it.
He still had to collect the ingredients he'd need, but the hospital was sending potions for the first week and he'd take it from there.
He drifted off, and slept fitfully on the sofa for several hours, waking to a soft "Severus" and a hand on his shoulder.
He was surprised to see Ginny Potter standing there in the quiet sitting room.
"How is he?" he asked as he sat up, eying her warily. "Did something - ?"
"No – he's fine. The same. Looking forward to coming home."
He jerked his head up, narrowing his gaze. She smiled. She looked as exhausted as he felt.
"This is home. For quite a few of us, actually. A home away from home, at least. He'll heal here, Severus. He loves it here. Thank you – thank you for doing this."
"There is no need to thank me."
"I want to thank you. I know you had other plans – the symposium in Rome. I know you've been looking forward to that – and you must have a million things to do at Hogwarts with the Triwizard Tournament coming up."
"I have nothing as important as this," he said.
Ginny looked stricken, and he reached out a hand and took one of hers.
"No. You have a contract to fulfill. And a starting position. Harry wants that – he wouldn't have it any other way."
Ginny dropped her head. "I'm being selfish," she said.
"You're being realistic. You don't have that many years left to play, and you missed out on quite a few having the children. You'd agreed on two, not three – you didn't have to give up these last three years."
"I didn't give them up," she said softly.
"No – no you didn't," he acknowledged. "But you know – you know - that staying here with Harry won't help Harry. Don't feel guilty for this – all of us want this for you. Your family has gone to great lengths to make sure all is taken care of. You'd do the same for any of them in similar circumstances."
"It's not them I'm concerned about," she said. She looked at him through the soft brown eyes he'd grown to know nearly as well as Harry's. She was smart and funny and competitive and loyal and loved Harry and the children fiercely.
"I don't need to remind you that I've done this before," Severus said. "More than once."
"Hermione told me you'd say that," Ginny said with another tired smile. "But Severus – the children. You'll have them underfoot sometimes too, and Mum and Dad, and Harry's friends."
"Will they be skinny dipping?" he asked. "Having fist fights on the beach? Snogging on the hammock?"
She laughed. It was a good sound to hear, he thought.
"I'll tell Harry to keep the snogging to a minimum."
"To be honest, I'm looking forward to the time spent together," he said, his tone more serious. "I seldom see him without the children these days."
She stood. "I'll be getting regular owls from Mum and Dad and Hermione. And I'll be here whenever I have a chance."
"If I have my way, he'll be attending your games again before the season is over."
She hugged him before she stepped back through the Floo.
"Keep an eye on Jamie for me," she said. "He's bound to get into all sorts of trouble here."
"No one ever warns me about my own namesake."
She laughed. "That one will end up in Slytherin – mark my words," she said.
When she was gone, when the cottage was once again well and truly quiet, Severus made his way to the porch again and stood at the window, gazing out at the moonlit sea.
Were those the sound of children's voices on the breeze? The flicker of a fire on the beach? Was that the glimpse of a tousle-haired young man, sitting with his back to the cottage, face to the sea, letting the waves glance his toes and the wind wash the nightmares away?
What would Harry see and hear when he lay in the hammock in days to come? With nearly fifteen years, an esteemed career, a wife and three children and half a life of experiences between the boy he was and the man he'd become?
That summer, the summer after Voldemort's death, Shell Cottage had served as refuge, as a place of healing, a middle ground where friends and family could gather without constant reminders of the losses they'd suffered.
And since then, in the years that followed, it had served both as get-away and retreat, a joyous place of laugher and community, a safe-haven to pass time alone when tempers were high, to de-stress along the shores and throw stones into the waves.
A smile flitted across his face as he recalled the late August day last summer when he'd sat on the beach in a low chair between Minerva and Ginny, their feet being buried in the sand by Jamie and Al who worked determinedly with bright-coloured sand shovels. Harry had been ankle-deep in the water, lifting Lily above his head as the waves came in, then dipping her toes in the water as it receded. The child had screeched out her pleasure as he'd lifted her to his shoulders and waded out to deeper water.
It was a picture of summer, of a happiness Severus still sometimes felt he didn't deserve. That despite his sacrifices, his loyalty to Albus, his past sins still outweighed any good he'd done.
Minerva, still amazingly spry as the years advanced, must have sensed his mood. She'd covered his warm hand in hers.
"He is only here - they are here – because of you," she'd whispered. "You made that man, Severus, no matter what groundwork Albus set, no matter Lily and James' genes. You built this family."
Ginny must have heard her, despite the breeze blowing their words behind them. She'd settled one of her hands on his, much as Minerva had done. "She's right," she said, eyes on the boys who'd run out to cling to their fathers' legs. "You're our cornerstone."
He'd let the words sink in, then stood, pulling his feet from their mountain of sand. The children had squealed as he walked quickly past them, diving shallowly into the waves and swimming out until he couldn't distinguish his salty tears from the salty water.
He heard their shouts of "Papa! Papa!" but he'd let the water do its magic before he turned back to the shore.
He left the windows open now as he settled into the hammock. Bill had raised it, shortened the chain at one end to keep Harry elevated to the prescribed angle. It was comfortable and afforded him a view of the water and the sea breeze on his face.
Tomorrow would be a trying day. But he closed his eyes, feeling every one of his fifty-two years and perhaps even fifty-two more, and let the sea breeze lull him back to sleep.