"Oh, this is great, isn't it?" Harry said, throwing his arms out in the air and gesturing at their surroundings.

Severus gave a guarded nod. Yes, it was a lovely place, but Severus wanted to know how they'd gotten here, and, beneath his confusion, there was something very like dread, as though he knew something truly terrible were about to happen here.

"Come on, let's roll down this hill," Harry suggested as they mounted another peak.

"I think we should try to find our way home, Harry," Severus said.

"Come one! It'll be fun!"

And before Severus could stop him, Harry was tumbling head over heels down the hill, laughing like a maniac. He landed in a heap at the bottom, covered in grass, still giggling.

"Come on, Severus! It's fun!"

Severus stared around at the perfect morning, still not knowing why he felt so uneasy. Then he looked down the hill at Harry, who was waiting expectantly.

Giving a mental shrug, Severus squatted down, tucked his head, and rolled down as Harry had. Harry was right. It was fun. By the time he'd rolled three feet, he was laughing as well. Unable to direct or stop his descent, he crashed right into Harry, which only caused more laughter.

"Come on," Harry gasped, climbing to his feet. "Let's do it again."

And so they did, again and again until they were almost nauseous from the motion.

They were lying in a sweaty, giggling tangle amidst a shower of daisies when a tall shadow fell over them.

Sheer terror clutched Severus' insides. Harry only looked puzzled as he turned to see where the shadow had come from.

At first Severus didn't recognize the tall wizard in the purple robes with the long white beard, but then the memory clicked into place and he knew why he'd been so frightened since they'd gotten here.

"Albus," he greeted, glad to see his old friend in spite of his fear.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry shouted, jumping to his feet and hugging Dumbledore.

Albus gave Severus a meaningful look and opened his other arm.

After only the slightest of hesitations, Severus joined Harry in hugging their old friend.

Harry lived so much in the present that he didn't recognize that Albus' reappearance was doubtless about to upend their world again. Severus, who looked for hidden meaning in everything, knew this visit did not bode well.

"It's so good to see you!" Harry said in a rush when they eventually withdrew.

"As it is to see both of you. Have you been enjoying yourselves?" Albus asked with a kind smile, his eyes bright with affection.

"Immensely," Harry said. "Severus and I made our school quidditch team last week. I'm their Seeker and Severus is the youngest beater they've every had!"

"Ah, very good." Those sparkling blue eyes speared Severus. "And have you learned what you needed to?"

"What?" Harry seemed confused. Severus wondered if he fully remembered the dream that had propelled them into reliving their childhoods.

"Have you become friends?" Albus questioned.

Always so open and honest, Harry threw his arm around Severus and announced, "Severus and I are best friends for life."

"Ah, I can't tell you how happy that makes me." Dumbledore beamed at them both.

"It's been great, Professor Dumbledore," Harry continued.

"I'm relieved to hear that. I hoped that the season I gave you to enjoy some of the childhood pleasures that circumstances denied you when young might in some small way make up for my inability to help you when you most needed me. You've had fun, then?"

"Oh, yes," Harry answered.

Severus shivered at Albus' words. The season he gave us. December through March was a season, wasn't it?

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Severus reached out and locked his hand around Harry's wrist. Harry gave him a curious glance at the action, but then just smiled at him.

"Very good," Albus approved. "Unfortunately, the responsibilities of your adult lives can no longer be ignored. I've given you all the time I could. You now must return to the lives you've made. If you linger longer, I'm afraid I won't be able to undo this."

"Would that be so bad?" Harry spoke the words Severus hadn't been able to get past his tight throat.

"Hermione and Ron love you very deeply, Harry," Albus said. "Although they have come to love the child you were, they miss their adult friend terribly. If you remain as that child, it will be as if the adult you were dead to them. I think that would hurt them deeply, don't you?"

Harry gave a guilty nod. "Yes, I guess so."

"You understand, then, why you must return?" Albus questioned.

"I guess so," Harry repeated, clearly unhappy with the proceedings.

Severus felt him shift closer, pulling their joined hands close to him. Harry was holding onto him just as tightly as he was to Harry.

"Severus?" Albus' perceptive gaze settled upon him.

Severus swallowed hard.

"Please," he said, damning his pride, "don't take this away from me, Albus. I beg of you."

Harry straightened beside him, his other hand coming up to clutch Severus' hand between both of his.

"I take nothing away from you, Severus," Albus gently assured. "The things you've learned will carry over into your former life."

"Please, Albus, don't do this to me," he whispered. Harry was gripping him so tight that he'd lost all feeling in his right arm.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but it really is for the best," Albus said.

The ancient wizard's wand flicked in their direction. Harry and he clutched each other tighter and then they were falling away into darkness.

**********

"Ron! Come see this!" Hermione's voice sounded excited, but as she wasn't calling them for school yet, Severus affected not to notice and snuggled closer to the warm bundle beside him. Then he remembered that it was Saturday, so they didn't have to get up at all. Hermione was probably just looking in to see if they wanted to go down to breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Bloody hell!" a sleepy Ron declared. "What're they doing in the same bed?"

"Severus has been bunking in with Harry the last month or so. It helped Harry sleep better," Hermione explained.

"But . . . ."

"They were seven, Ron," Hermione said in the tone of a reprimand.

Were seven . . . .

"Where are their clothes?" Ron sounded extremely uncomfortable.

"In shreds, I imagine," Hermione chuckled. "We should wake them."

"You think?"

"Severus? Harry?" Hermione gently called.

The comforting warmth under his right arm stirred. "Hmmm?"

"I think you should wake up now, Harry, Severus. The spell has reversed itself!" Hermione announced, sounding overjoyed.

Severus sat up in a bed that suddenly seemed half the size it was when they climbed into it last night. Abruptly aware of his nudity, Severus clutched the bedclothes over him, seeing Harry Potter do the same out of the corner of his eye. The remains of both their nightshirts and undergarments were tangled amidst the blankets.

He turned to look at Harry . . . at Potter. The myopic, green eyes were regarding him with a strange expression. The memory of the last four months lay between them like a dead love affair, the kind that cuts you to the quick with the depth of your loss, but which you really had no idea how you'd gotten into in the first place, because you were obviously so ill-suited. For the second time in his adult life, Severus Snape felt like crying.

But he didn't. He pulled his barricades around him and resolved to muddle through this humiliating situation.

"Ummm . . . ." Potter mumbled, his cheeks flushing as he broke Severus' stare to gaze around the room. His hand fumbled to the nightstand to retrieve the pair of round lensed silver glasses resting there. He quickly put them on, but they were too small for his adult face.

Severus reached under his pillow. Sure enough, his wand was still there.

"Occulus repairum," he muttered. Harry's glasses immediately stretched to adult size.

"Thanks," Potter said, meeting his eyes, his hesitation a palpable presence.

Knowing he'd go insane if this continued much longer, Severus gave his wand another flick and whispered, "Accio clothes and shoes."

A moment later, underclothes, socks, shirt, pants, jacket, black robes, and shoes floated to him in a neat pile.

"Would you mind getting mine?" Potter requested, his face scarlet.

Severus inclined his head and repeated the spell. Within moments, a pile of Harry's clothing joined his at the foot of the bed.

"We'll let you get dressed," Hermione said, taking Ron by the arm and closing the door behind them.

"Er . . . ." Potter stammered, his cheeks still a brilliant hue.

He'd had a better vocabulary when he was seven, Severus unkindly thought.

"We'd best get dressed," Severus said. He was just as lost. He didn't know how to treat Potter. He didn't even know how to look at him right now.

The tension lethal, they slid out of their respective sides of the bed and quickly dressed without looking at each other.

Potter's wardrobe was somewhat simpler than Severus', so he was finished first.

Severus was buttoning up the dozens of tiny buttons on his black brocade jacket when Potter cleared his throat and asked, "Did you . . . did you dream of Professor Dumbledore, too, last night?"

Feeling his own cheeks warm, Severus nodded. Had he lied, his pride would have been spared, but for some reason, he found it difficult to dissemble with Potter now.

"So it was real, then," Potter said softly.

"We just spent four months as children. Did you doubt that it was real?" he snapped, unable to control his impatience. "How else would we have ended up in that state, if not Albus?"

Guilt lanced through him when he saw Potter flinch at his savage tone.

Apparently rallying his spirit, Potter defiantly met his gaze and shot back with, "You do sleep with your wand beneath your pillow. It could have been you."

"Do you think we'd be like this now if I were responsible?" The words were out before Snape could stop them, with everything they implied slithering through the unbearable tension between them.

Potter could have attacked then and cut him to ribbons, but confusion entered Harry's hurt eyes as he stared at him. "What are we going to do?"

"Do? There's nothing to be done," Severus dismally replied. "I, for one, am going to go see what ruin those dunderheads have made of my Potions Lab."

Severus finished up his last button. Pausing, he took what he knew would be his last look around this room that had come to mean safety to him in the last four months. Never again.

A glint of gold on the nightstand on his side of the bed caught his eye. His heart wrenched as he recognized the telescope Hermione had bought him on his first day here. Well, she'd said he could have it.

Feeling very foolish, he self-consciously picked up the toy, stowing the cool brass cylinder safely in his pocket. Potter's gaze burned down his back the entire time.

Not even daring to glance in Potter's direction, Severus made for the door. When he opened it, he was met with another set of complications – Hermione and Ron waiting expectantly on the other side.

"Welcome back," Hermione said, smiling from ear to ear.

"Must feel good to be yourself again, hey?" Ron grinned.

Of course, they were happy. Their ordeal was over. So much for that bunk about them all being a family.

His face under iron control, Severus was nevertheless compelled to be honest with them. "Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. I . . . excuse me, I must go now."

"Severus?" All of Hermione's happiness vanished. "Severus! "

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold it together another moment, Severus fled the Gryffindor Tower.

*********

"Oh, dear," Hermione said as the door slammed shut behind the retreating Potions Master.

"What was that all about?" Ron said.

She was relieved that Ron wasn't making nasty comments about Severus being back to normal. There was nothing but worry in his face right now.

A totally miserable Harry stepped out of the boys . . . no, the guestroom. He was dressed in a brown shirt, black pants, and green robe. He looked like he'd just lost his best friend, and, in a way, Hermione supposed he had.

"He didn't want to change back. Professor Dumbledore made him," Harry said, as if the words would make perfect sense.

"What's Dumbledore got to do with any of this?" Ron questioned, but before Harry could answer, he broke out in a grin and added, "Oh, and, by the way, welcome back!"

Harry didn't appear anymore pleased to be restored than Severus had been, Hermione noted, but he allowed himself to be hugged and exclaimed over all the same.

When they were done with the hugging and the sniffling, Hermione guided them into the sitting room and drew them down onto the couch with her.

"So what does Professor Dumbledore have to do with it?" she asked.

"Sev . . . Snape and I both had a dream where we met Dumbledore. He . . . he gave us a chance to enjoy the things we'd missed out on in childhood," Harry explained.

But that wasn't all there was to it. Exchanging a glance with Ron, she could tell that her husband knew as well as she did that Harry was editing out some major facts.

"You mean he worked magic on you both from the grave?" Ron questioned, understandably disturbed, for if Dumbledore could do something like that, what was to say that a dead wizard with a score to settle, someone like Voldemort, wouldn't be able to do the same thing to his enemies?

"I don't know," Harry sighed, seeming defeated.

"What do you mean? Was it Dumbledore or not?" Hermione questioned, as worried as Ron about the possibilities uncorked by opening this particular bottle.

"I don't know. We both dreamed it was Dumbledore that did it, but . . ." Harry said.

"But?" Ron gently prodded.

"But Severus sleeps with his wand under his pillow. Remember that discussion we had on Christmas about wandless magic and intent? I think it was Albus, but it could just as easily have been Severus," Harry said.

Hermione couldn't help but note the emotion Harry put into Snape's first name.

"Or it could have been you," Hermione pointed out. "You've always been capable of wandless magic. Wordless magic, too."

"Yes, it could have been me." Harry shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that it hurts."

"Hurts?" Ron echoed, totally not following.

"Of course, it hurts, Ron," Hermione swiftly intervened when she saw the raw misery flash in Harry's eyes. "They were both little boys yesterday, with all the freedom of little boys."

"Ey?" Ron questioned.

"They could laugh or cry or shout whenever they felt like it and it was totally permissible because they were children. Now, overnight, they've become adults again. Those feelings are all still there, but they haven't the freedom to express them as they did yesterday, nor have they had the time to acclimate themselves to adult emotional restrictions. Of course, neither of you is delighted to be back just yet, Harry. You're probably both processing tons of emotion," she said, giving his cold hand a squeeze. "Remember, when you were reverted to being seven, you only remembered your life with the Dursleys. All of the bad feelings associated with that time must still be very fresh in your mind. I'm sure Severus is going through the same thing."

Harry had never looked so grateful for anything in his life as he did those words. Ron seemed to be thinking about them too.

"Guess that makes sense," Ron allowed.

Looking very much like his seven year old self, Harry glanced at her from beneath his lashes. "He's closed me out totally, Hermione."

She tightened her hold on his hand.

"He'll come around," she promised.

"He was so upset with Albus," Harry whispered.

Hermione glanced at Ron. Not knowing what else to do, she put her arms around Harry and drew him close.

It seemed to be the right move. After a moment, Harry's arms closed around her to hug her back. She caught Ron's eye over Harry's shoulder. Seconds later, Ron wrapped them both up in his longer reach.

They kept Harry cocooned between them for what felt like forever.

Hermione's own feelings were pretty mixed up at the moment. For the past four months, she'd acted the part of mother to this person. It was hard to just turn that off. She could only imagine how confused Harry must be feeling, what with his two closest friends being his stand-in parents. But the hug seemed to be helping.

When Harry finally seemed ready to be released, they all drew back to their own parts of the couch.

"I don't know what I would have done without you two," Harry said, catching both their gazes in turn. "You were amazing these last four months."

"It was our pleasure, Harry," Ron answered.

"Really," she added, already missing those two little dark haired boys that had upended her world. It was hard to think of them being gone forever and not just off at school for the afternoon.

Obviously, it was going to take some time for them all to adjust.

"Well, I guess I'd better go and start getting things back to normal," Harry sighed.

"You don't have to go," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I do," Harry answered. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't just hide from life here."

"You need to give yourself some time to recuperate," Hermione counselled.

"You're right. Thank god it's the weekend. It is the weekend, isn't it?" Harry checked as he rose from the couch.

"Yes, Harry, it's Saturday morning," Hermione answered. "Don't worry about telling anyone. I'll let Minerva know that you both have been restored."

"Thank you both . . . for everything," Harry said, forcing a smile.

Hermione reached for Ron's hand as Harry walked out the door.

"That didn't go like I thought it would," Ron said once they were alone.

"He's hurting bad," Hermione said.

"So's Severus. It's probably even worse for him. I mean, Harry's always had us, but who has Severus got now," Ron acknowledged.

"Us," Hermione said, giving him a stern look. No matter what happened in the next few days or how badly Severus might behave in the wake of his restoration to adulthood, Hermione was determined that things were not going to go back to the way they'd been before Christmas.

"Yeah, you're right. He's going to be hell to live with for a while," Ron said. "He'll probably hole up in that dungeon of his and growl at anyone who comes near him for weeks."

"I know," Hermione said, fearing the same thing herself, for all that she was resolved not to let that happen. She owed it to that serious, sweet boy she'd been a mother to for a few short months, if not to the man she'd known for fifteen years.

Ron was quiet for a few minutes before he admitted, "I just don't understand why Dumbledore would have done something like this . . . if he did do it."

"Don't you?" Hermione asked. "Remember how happy both Harry and Severus have been these last few months?"

"Yeah, I suppose that'd be reason enough," Ron agreed, adding, "But they're both so unhappy now."

"Maybe they're both feeling that they've lost something important," Hermione theorized.

"Like?"

Men, they really were clueless. It was little wonder Severus and Harry were so miserable at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, she tried not to let her irritation show. "Like their friendship."

"Oh," Ron said. "It was strange how well they got on together, wasn't it? They're so different."

"They're really not that different, Ron," Hermione argued. "They both had horrible childhoods that left them with deep emotional scars. Harry's left him starving for love, while Severus' left him believing himself unworthy of love. They actually have more in common than we ever did."

"Yeah, but that's different. We're a couple. We were written to be together in the stars," Ron grinned.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it. She loved her husband with all her heart, but sometimes the man couldn't see the forest for the trees, or what was written on his own bedroom clock.

"Well, I had better go see Minerva and let her know the good news," Hermione said, hoping to convince herself with a positive attitude. Giving him a kiss, she left him alone on the couch.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of floo communication and conversation with Hogwarts staff and Harry's numerous friends. It got so Hermione could tell the tale without conscious thought. And tell the tale, she did, at least ten times an hour.

Neither Harry nor Severus showed up for meals, but that was hardly unexpected. Hermione suspected it would be some time before either of them were up to company.

She was relieved to retreat with Ron to their too quiet quarters after supper. They took their normal armchairs by the fire, she with her tests to grade and Ron with the latest quidditch journal.

After about ten minutes, he sighed and complained, "It feels like someone has died in this place. It's so bloody quiet!"

"I know," she said. "I know. I keep waiting for something to explode in the boys room, only . . . ."

"No boys," he finished glumly. "I sure – "

A knock on the door interrupted his words.

"I'll get it," Hermione said. Of the pair of them, she was more diplomatic about telling the tale of Harry and Severus' miraculous restoration when out of patience. Ready to launch into the abbreviated, abridged version to whatever well-wisher was at the door now, Hermione's jaw dropped open at the sight of an uneasy Severus Snape standing there.

"Good evening," he greeted. Dressed in his normal black brocade, he looked the same as he had for the last fifteen years: tall, dark, and menacing.

There was one physical difference. For the last fifteen years, Snape had worn his hair in a straight cut that fell just below his ears. It had grown past his shoulders since Christmas. Hermione had expected a return to the rather unflattering straight cut, but Severus hadn't touched its length. Nor was his longer hair hanging around his face like he was trying to hide behind it. Severus had brushed it back into a neat ponytail, securing it with the black leather and silver clasp she'd given him months ago.

He really did look dashing with his hair like that, she acknowledged, dashing and somehow more sensual, which was a disturbing thought, considering the last four months.

Yet other than that one small alteration, Severus was very much their former teacher, frightening and formidable.

But their nasty potions teacher had never worn the nervous look Severus now had on his face. His very stance seemed to suggest that he feared he was making a grave error by coming here.

It was strange to look up at him. Strange to see him so guarded against her. But, stars, it was wonderful to see him, even if it only had been twelve hours since he left.

"Severus," she grinned, resisting the impulse to hug him, "please, come in."

She couldn't tell if she'd put him at ease or unnerved him more. But he entered their quarters; that was all that mattered.

"Hello, there!" Ron got to his feet immediately, a grin brightening his features at the sight of Severus – and how different was that, Hermione marvelled.

Their joy seemed to both bolster and disquiet him.

"We're so glad you stopped by, " Hermione quickly assured.

"Yes, I came to . . . ." whatever he came to say, the words were obviously very hard for him.

It was Ron who saved the moment. Stepping up to Severus, Ron laid his hand on the slightly shorter man's back and said, "You don't need an excuse to come here, or an invitation."

Those dark eyes stared at them both, as if trying to gauge their verity.

Hermione waited for Severus' expression to blank into its normal insouciance, but for whatever reason, he allowed his confusion to remain visible. Perhaps it was a testament to how upset his transformation had left him, or it might have been a show of trust. Hermione didn't know, but she appreciated not being walled out.

"I left very abruptly this morning," Severus said, and it was only her knowledge of the boy that allowed her to see the man's fear. "That was rude of me."

Ron and she exchanged a glance, not sure what to make of this. Even as a seven year old, Severus had rarely been able to apologize.

"You'd just suffered a severe shock," Hermione said. "It was understandable."

"It was unforgivable," Severus countered in that deep drawl of his. "I never even thanked you for all that you'd done for me."

"There was nothing to thank us for," Ron insisted before she could even open her mouth.

Severus' gaze swept to Ron. "To the contrary. It was everything. What you did for me, the kindness you showed . . . I could never repay you for that. I am in your debt."

"You're not in our debt," Ron denied.

"You're in our family," Hermione corrected.

She could see that Severus had no idea how to respond to that. His expression clearly revealed that he didn't believe it possible. The abused child he'd been could accept, but this man who'd been Death Eater and foe to them obviously couldn't see his way through his past.

"That is . . . most kind of you," Severus replied, palpably ill at ease.

Seven or forty-seven, Hermione knew Severus now, and could feel how impossible it was for him to accept what they were trying to tell him.

"It isn't kind; it's true," Hermione insisted.

"If you don't believe us, come see for yourself," Ron said.

Hermione glanced at Ron, uncertain if that were such a good idea. Severus was already overwhelmed and she knew Ron hadn't really paid attention to what he was about to reveal to Severus.

"See?" Severus repeated.

"Humour me a minute," Ron requested.

"As you will," Severus gave a nod of assent.

Then seemingly oblivious to the dark haired man's shock at being touched, Ron took hold of Severus' arm and led him to their bedroom.

Hermione hurried quickly after them. She could see that their destination both perplexed and worried Severus. Ron had stopped them in front of the grandfather clock, but Severus was looking the wrong way. His uneasy gaze was focused on the bed a few feet away.

"What . . . ." Severus began, before Ron cut him off with, "Look at the family clock."

Severus did as directed, and stiffened.

Hermione studied the newest arm on their clock. Severus' adult face stared down at them out of the picture on the new hand. While the seven year old Severus had appeared worried of rejection while up there, the adult version seemed utterly bewildered to find himself there at all.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as her two companions took in the positions of the clock's arms. It was all she could do to hide her grin as Ron guffawed at his own family clock, which he obviously glanced at enough to know who was on it, but never paid any real attention to its designations. Now that he was finally seeing the clock . . . well, providing that Severus wasn't mortified by the information revealed, the entire thing was rather amusing. Or would be, in time.

Harry's clock hand was all by itself, under the designation LOST. Hermione and Ron's were clumped together under HOME. And Severus' hand? That was firmly in a new section of the clock face marked IN LOVE.

"How does this charming device work?" Severus asked in a tight tone.

"It's sensitised to the emotional engrams of the people it is given to or bought by. Ron and I have always considered Harry part of our immediate family, so he's been up there from day one. Your picture arrived a few weeks after you came to live with us."

Severus frowned. "And how accurate are the . . . ."

"Designations?" Hermione supplied, doing her best to ignore her husband's paling complexion. From his tension, Ron was clearly expecting an explosion of atomic proportions. "I've always found them to be exceedingly accurate."

Severus didn't explode. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he hoarsely enquired, "Has he seen this?"

"No, Harry hardly ever comes in here," Hermione assured.

Severus opened his eyes, but he immediately lowered his gaze to his shoes.

Hermione could only imagine the degree of pain and shame that he was experiencing. He mightn't still be the child she'd grown to love, but that little boy was still inside of him somewhere, hurt and afraid. Unable to hold back, she put her arm around him, that as much of an invasion of his personal space as she was willing to dare.

She breathed a relieved sigh when Severus didn't immediately pull away from her. He flinched and tensed, but he stayed put.

"It will be all right, Severus," Hermione promised, trying to ignore her husband's stare. Ron was looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"How can this possibly be all right?" The question was a hiss of emotion, like a boiling kettle letting off steam. "You can't begin to suggest that you are pleased by this development?"

"I think . . . I think that Harry has needed someone of his own for a very long time," she said slowly, choosing each word with extreme caution. "And I don't see why that someone couldn't be you."

He gave her that same betrayed look that his younger self had cast at her every time Severus suspected he was being teased.

She stared him down, easily.

"I don't know how this happened," Severus confessed. "Yesterday . . . ."

"He was your entire world yesterday," Hermione supplied. "You were totally devoted to each other. It was . . . wonderful to see."

"We were children," Severus insisted.

"And today you are adults. Those feelings didn't go away. They just matured," she countered.

"Look at me . . . the very idea is . . . an obscenity. I am old enough to be all of your fathers," Severus whispered.

She cupped his cheek and drew his tormented gaze to her eyes. "Harry has never thought of you as a father substitute, Severus."

"Yeah, I've got that lovely role now," Ron lamented.

Hermione was going to lambaste him for making light of this situation, but seeing how Ron's perfectly normally voiced comment affected Severus, she changed her mind. Sometimes humor was the greatest healer. Severus appeared no more certain, but at least the levity had calmed him some, as though its very presence assured him that the world wasn't ending around him, no matter how bleak the moment seemed.

"Even so, he would never . . . it's unthinkable," Severus denied.

"Why?" Hermione challenged.

"He is the Boy Who Everyone Wants . What could I offer that he couldn't get elsewhere from someone younger and more comely?" Severus shot back, the speed of his delivery telling Hermione that these were arguments he carried close to his heart.

"How about the friendship that he relied on for the four months you spent together? How many times a day did you hear him brag to someone that the two of you were 'best friends forever'?" she reminded.

"We aren't children anymore," Severus said. "All that changed when Albus made us come back. The boy I lost my soul to doesn't exist anymore."

And that belief was an open wound. Hermione could almost feel the agony his altered reality had visited upon Severus. 'Lost his soul'. . . when had she heard Severus Snape admit to so much as liking someone? Albus Dumbledore had been his only friend for decades and Snape had managed to maintain his controls when they'd laid his body in the ground. Now, here he stood talking about losing his soul to Harry.

"That boy is still inside Harry, the same way your seven year old self is inside you," Hermione insisted.

"Perhaps," Severus conceded. "But do you think he has this same twisted impulse?"

"There is nothing twisted in caring for someone, Severus," she almost scolded. "I think Harry is hurting the same way you are. And I think that you should speak to him about what he may or may not be feeling."

"Harry Potter would never . . . think of me that way. And even if he did . . . it would never work."

"Why?" That seemed to be the only word she could say to him. She was losing patience with his stubbornness.

"I have no . . . skill in matters of the heart," Severus haltingly confessed.

"And you think Harry does?" Hermione almost laughed at the idea.

Severus quickly offered, "I saw the articles; they could hardly be missed. Every week a new face, a new romance . . ."

"Severus, I was one of those faces purported to be Harry's lover of the moment. When we were visiting him during his quidditch tour that second year, the photographer caught Harry and me having breakfast one morning before Ron came down. You remember that debacle, don't you?"

"Yes, what is your point?" Severus demanded.

"What makes you think any of those other articles were any more accurate than that one? Harry couldn't buy a chocolate frog from a store clerk without it becoming the romance of the century, for heavens sake!" Hermione argued.

"It got to be a running joke between the three of us," Ron added. "We'd see the pictures and then owl him to find out the real story. Half the time he didn't even know the names of the loves of his life."

Seeing that they'd finally gotten Severus to listen, Hermione finished with, "Harry is a very private person, Severus. Between school and battling Voldemort, he never really had a chance to develop any romantic attachments. You're more alike than you think. Please, I know this is a lot for you to handle, but please promise to consider some of the things we've said."

"You would seriously condone . . . such an idea?" Severus had never sounded more like his seven-year-old self than at that moment.

Hermione exchanged a quick look with Ron. Relieved that they appeared to be in sync on this, for all that Ron still seemed slightly weirded out by the prospect, Hermione touched Severus' sleeve and softly assured, "We approve of anything that will make you both happy, Severus."

"Both?" Snape whispered.

"Both. You're on the clock, too," Hermione smiled.

His expression suggesting that he felt he'd said far too much, Severus quietly said, "I must go now." His gaze swept to the clock and then back to them. "May I rely on your discretion in this matter?"

Six months ago, the paranoid Potions Master would have been convinced that they would use this information against him in any way possible. Hermione was immensely relieved that that much had changed.

"You have our word," Ron said.

Seeming at a loss, the normally articulate Severus stumbled, "I . . . thank you . . . for everything."

Hermione reached out to give him a quick hug before he could flee. "Don't be a stranger."

"You're family now. You can't get rid of us," Ron said, offering his hand.

The moment strangely solemn, Severus reached out to shake it. Once he'd let go of Ron's hand, he said in a typically droll manner, "Family, is it? Two hundred Weasleys at Christmas time. How charming."

For a moment, Hermione feared that Ron would take his words wrong, but then Ron burst out laughing and said, "Two hundred sounds about right. At least that's how it feels sometimes."

Hermione had to grin at the alarm Severus couldn't quite keep out of his eyes. But the fact that he wasn't cutting the idea to shreds with his scimitar tongue said more for the transformation he'd undergone these last few months than anything to date.

As Severus turned to go, Hermione reminded, "You'll promise to think about what we said?"

"I'll consider it," Severus reluctantly agreed, and then he really did flee.

**********

He was still considering it hours later as he sat in shirt sleeves and slacks before his hearth in quarters that abruptly seemed far too lonely to even think about sleeping in. Just last night he and Harry had been wrestling with Ron on a rug in front of a nearly identical fireplace. The room had been filled with noise and warmth . . . and love.

And laughter, so much laughter.

Severus thought that he might miss that the most. Although they had only been seven and most of the things that they'd found amusing probably wouldn't be funny to him now, it seemed that he and Harry had laughed most of the time they were together.

Not surprisingly, his visit to the Weasleys was still heavy on his mind. He still couldn't believe half of what had transpired.

When he'd knocked on Hermione and Ron's door tonight, Severus had been fairly certain that he wouldn't be turned away, but he'd expected things to be awkward in the extreme. He'd left so abruptly this morning, without even pausing to thank them for all the trouble they'd gone to for him, and, beyond that, he was no longer the child they'd grown fond of. He was himself again, a man of whom no one was fond. He'd been especially concerned about Ron's reaction to his adult self. He'd expected things to be hellishly uncomfortable, but . . . .

But they had been genuinely glad to see him. Although relations could hardly be said to have been the same as they had with his seven-year-old self, the foundation had remained unchanged. They had welcomed him . . . and accepted him as he was.

More than that, they had encouraged him to pursue . . . .

No, he wasn't going to think about that. It wasn't a possibility.

However, Severus knew he would be forever grateful to Hermione and Ron for the compassion they'd shown him tonight. They'd embraced something he'd viewed as a shameful perversion, brought it out into the light, and turned it into something, if not possible, then at least not twisted. It warmed his heart to know that they considered him good enough for Harry, even if he knew he were not.

No matter what Hermione said, Harry deserved someone like himself, someone bright and loving, someone who had a lot to offer . . . not a used up Death Eater.

Inevitably, it always came back to that, probably always would.

But at least he was no longer entirely alone. Hermione and Ron had made it clear that his presence was not just tolerated, but desired. Perhaps Albus was right after all, and this was all for the best. Had he remained a child under the Weasleys' care, their relationship to him would always be a parental one. But now he had the opportunity to enjoy a friendship of equals . . . if he could manage to avoid alienating them.

Severus had no illusions about himself. He knew he was difficult, but . . . Hermione and Ron knew that, too. Just as Albus had. Perhaps a friendship might be possible. They'd said he was family – said it, and meant it.

Why else would they have encouraged him to pursue . . . .

He was thinking about it again.

Sighing, he tried to expel the unwanted thought, but . . . he'd spent four months living in Harry Potter's pocket. It had been less than one day and he missed the other boy as he would his right arm.

But Harry wasn't that boy anymore. He was a full-grown man, an attractive man who could have anyone he wanted for a friend or lover. The small boned boy with the round glasses and messy hair who had defended him like a lion against his tormentors was gone forever. As was their friendship.

Harry Potter might have been able to befriend him when they'd been children the same age, with no memory of their former lives, but why would Potter need to continue such an association now that they were both back in their right minds? There was more than a twenty-year difference in their ages. They had nothing in common, save an adversarial past that made even civil speech an effort. And there was that Dark Mark on his left arm, that accursed memento of mistakes too huge to be forgiven or forgotten. No, even a simple friendship with Harry would be impossible at this point.

Saddened by the thought, Severus tried not to dwell on the loss.

He gazed around his comfortable, sepulchral silent chambers and wondered what he was going to do with himself for the remainder of the night. Sleep was an absolute impossibility.

There was a bottle of excellent cognac on the sideboard across the room, but Severus feared that comfort. Once a man turned to a chemical to numb his pain, there was rarely any turning back from that path. And with the pain he was attempting to drown . . . well, there wasn't enough alcohol in all of Britain for that.

No, he'd best leave the cognac where it was and . . . .

A knock on the door stilled all thought, and his breathing.

Damning himself seven times a fool for the idiotic hope that flared in his heart, Severus rose from his chair and went to deal with the interruption. It was probably another fracas in the Slytherin dorm. Merlin alone knew what Zabini had been doing these last four months as temporary head of Slytherin, for it certainly had no resemblance to anything Snape would have deemed supervision. He didn't know if he was up to another teenage tempest right now.

Severus pulled open the door, a snarl on his lips . . . and gaped into the uncertain green eyes of the person he most wanted/didn't want to see.

"Er . . . hello," Potter greeted.

His vocabulary had definitely been better at seven, Severus thought.

At a loss, he stared at his visitor. Potter was dressed in Muggle clothes: black jeans that were way too close-fitting for Severus' peace of mind, a light blue shirt with a brown woollen jumper on top. He'd had better fashion sense at seven as well, Severus noted.

Realizing that some response was called for, Severus softly returned, "Hello."

"We need to talk," Potter said.

Talk? A great open pit seemed to replace his stomach. Severus certainly felt like he'd tumbled off solid ground.

"I don't think that would be wise at this time," he denied with as much gentleness as he could manage.

"Tough. If we wait until you think it's wise, we'll both be dead and buried," Potter said, brushing past him into his quarters.

Severus stared at the door his hand was resting on, and then looked at Potter who was now definitely on the wrong side of said door. Less than two minutes. He had no idea how he could have lost control of the situation in such a short interval.

"Listen, Pot – "

"If you call me 'Potter,' I will turn you into a turnip," Potter warned, green fire sparking in his eyes. Those eyes were the colour of dark and powerful magic, Severus acknowledged.

His move. Four months ago he would have said 'Potter' out of sheer contrariness, but . . . Harry had made the first move by coming here, and, judging by his obstinate determination, whatever the younger man wished to discuss was obviously of some significance to him.

Harry's expression also stilled his tongue. He'd so rarely seen despair on that handsome face. Potter's tension clearly telegraphed that he thought this a hopeless cause, but that he was determined to see it through to the end. Severus knew he had the power to end this conversation, right here and now. All it would take was a bit of expertly aimed vitriol and Harry would never darken his door again.

But he didn't want Harry to go away forever. That was the very root of his problem. Unable to attack, Severus slowly said, "I loathe turnips."

That wasn't what Potter was expecting. Severus almost smiled as he watched the other man change mental gears.

"Then you'd better not call me 'Potter'," Harry answered with a shy smile.

Severus felt the corners of his own mouth twitch, "Since you're here, you might as well sit down."

"Your hospitality overwhelms me," Potter snarked. But his comment wasn't nearly as sarcastic as it could have been. And he sat down. In Severus' favourite armchair.

"Not difficult to do, I'm sure," Snape countered, wondering if that were a bit much.

To his intense relief, Potter just smiled.

It was rather like they'd just met and were learning to interact, verbally fencing with each other to determine allowable boundaries.

Severus had to remind himself that wasn't the case. They hadn't just met. They'd been adversaries and uneasy allies for fifteen years. The past four months were . . . an anomaly. They weren't beginning a relationship. In all likelihood, they were here to bury one.

"Would you care for some cognac?" Severus asked, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

"Yes, thank you," Potter was openly relieved. As he took the snifter Severus offered him a moment later, he admitted, "I was afraid I was going to have to fight you tooth and nail to get in here."

"Yes, well . . . " Taking his own drink, he retreated to the other armchair. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know why Potter was here.

"Minerva stopped by to welcome me back this afternoon. And then most of the rest of the staff dropped by one by one," Potter said into the silence. "Everyone seems to think the spell's reversal is a cause for celebration. I've never felt more miserable in my life."

Well done, Albus, Severus thought. It appeared that yet another one of his old friend's schemes had gone horribly awry. Snape never expected things to work out well as far as his own fortunes were concerned, for he never expected to be truly happy, but it seemed criminal that Harry should suffer from this.

Severus spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. He didn't know how to comfort, but perhaps he could commiserate. "It's strange how often good intentions cause only sorrow and regret."

"Do you regret what he did for us?" Potter asked, sounding utterly lost. There was no need to question whom 'he' was.

Regret it? Severus thought longingly of the laughter. In its memory, he gave Harry the truth. "Those last four months were the only portion of my life entirely free of regret."

"Severus," Potter said his name as though he half-expected to be reprimanded for doing so. "I miss my friend."

Snape set his drink on the end table beside him. He couldn't dare Harry's eyes. There was too much emotion roiling through him for him to sit still. He rose to his feet, crossed the short distance to the hearth, and stared into the flames.

It was some time before he could voice the words that needed to be said. "That boy you knew, he doesn't exist anymore. He never really did."

"I don't believe that," Potter said from behind him. Severus could feel Potter's stare burning his stiff spine. "I can't believe that."

"Believe it," Severus urged. "I am not a nice person. You-"

"Did I ever once ask you to be nice or change?" Harry broke in. "I don't care if you're not nice."

Severus froze, almost afraid to turn around and face Potter. But of his many faults, cowardice was not among them. He forced himself to turn and meet Harry's upset gaze, forced himself to try to clarify this abruptly murky situation. "Than what do you want from me, if not niceness?"

Clearly, Harry didn't know the answer to that question. Or maybe he wasn't prepared to tell him. After an extremely tense staring match, Potter softly said, "I want my friend back."

"We're not seven anymore," Severus reminded.

"That doesn't mean we can't be friends," Potter obdurately insisted.

"Upon what could we possibly base a friendship?"

"What do any two people base a friendship on? We found things to do together four months ago, we'll do the same now," Harry said.

"What? Build snow forts and play tag?" Severus sneered.

"If that's what you'd like to do," Harry answered, steel in his eyes for all that his tone was mild. "I thought we might start with chess."

"Hermione can beat you at chess and I could beat her at seven," Severus said.

"You're not helping," Harry complained.

"And you are not being realistic. I am old enough to by your father. We have absolutely nothing in common, beyond the events of the last four months. We have spent fifteen years loathing each other," Snape said.

"So, you're saying that I'm too immature to be your friend?"

Harry could not possibly be as hurt as he sounded.

"I didn't say that," Severus snapped.

"Then what are you saying? What is the big deal about being my friend? Do you hate me that much?" Potter asked.

What Severus did hate was the crushed look his rejection had put in those vulnerable eyes.

"Answer the question," Harry demanded, visibly braced for the worst.

"No, damn you. You know I don't hate you."

Harry searched his face for an uncomfortably long time before giving a slow nod. "I know this isn't easy for you. It isn't for me, either, but . . . I think we have to try."

Severus lowered his gaze. He had no idea how to refuse without further hurting Harry, but . . . he knew himself. He was certain to ruin anything that might grow between them. The surest way to do that, he realized, would be to mention the unexpected turn his own feelings for Potter had taken. In the short or long run, the result would be the same – Potter would not stay. How could he? And then . . . well, then he'd be alone again; only that alone would be a million times worse because he'd know what he was missing. And Potter would be here at Hogwarts, shoving Severus' failure right in his face every single day by his mere presence. It was better for all concerned if they didn't even try to be friends. He just had to find a non-painful way to make Harry understand that.

"That clay fort we built is still standing in the quidditch pitch," Harry said into the horrible silence.

Bewildered by what seemed a complete non sequitur, Severus asked, "What?"

"Our fort. I can see it out my bedroom window. It's still there."

"Oh." There really didn't seem to be much else he could say to that comment.

"Severus, we don't have to lose everything this time. I know it feels like our entire world was snatched away from us again, but . . . it's only that way if we let it be taken from us. Our fort is still out there. And we're still both here, alive and together."

"Everything is different now," Severus said, wincing at how petulant the protest sounded to even his own ears.

"I know," Harry's voice carried that same unbearable loss.

"Why would you even want to try? I'm hardly anyone's idea of good company."

"Your company suited me fine the last four months," Potter said.

"Can't you get it through that thick skull of yours that I'm not that same person!" Snape demanded. This entire circular conversation was hurtful.

"How are you so different?"

Pushed to his limit, Severus rolled up his left sleeve and thrust his forearm out. "I am marked. I am sullied. And quite probably damned."

Potter stared at his outstretched arm for a long moment, then put his drink down, and got to his feet.

Good. Harry had finally seen sense. He was leaving.

That thought should have flooded him with a sense of victory, but it only made the hurt inside sharper.

But Harry wasn't heading towards the door. He came up to him and took hold of Severus' outstretched arm.

Severus trembled as Potter's fingertips traced the grinning skull and serpent seared into his flesh all those years ago. "This is only skin deep. It goes no further. You are not sullied and you are most certainly not damned."

"You can't know that. I – "

"You made a terrible mistake when you were barely seventeen years old. As soon as you recognized the depth of your error, you went through hell to rectify it. This happened years before I was even born. It's ancient history," Harry said.

"Not to me. It – "

"It still hurts you – the same way Voldemort's killing Cedric and using my blood to restore himself still hurts me. Don't you see? We do have more than snow forts and tag games in common," Harry insisted, still holding onto his arm.

For a man who abhorred emotional entanglements, he'd certainly blundered into his share of them today, Severus thought. His flight instincts were shrieking that he move away from this danger. But Harry still had hold of his arm.

"We'll work it out, Severus. Please say you'll try?"

He couldn't. He just couldn't. It was all too much. He just wanted to turn off his feelings and go back to his comfortably numb life.

He knew this couldn't work. Even if he managed to keep his lethal tongue from destroying whatever bond they might forge, the inevitable revelation of his desire was bound to finish it. He simply could not do this. He opened his mouth to tell Harry that. . . and slammed it shut as something small and white nearly flew right between his parted lips.

Thwarted, the tiny flyer collided with his cheek and then fluttered into the air between them.

Harry's hand closed uncomfortably tight around his arm as they both stared at the white butterfly with black spotted wings that was flittering in the air between them . . . in the freezing air of a Highland keep that hadn't seen its first thaw yet.

Their shocked gazes met. Severus could see the same thoughts passing through Harry's eyes at the timely interruption. He was amazed that he was still able to read so much there, that the knowledge his seven-year-old self had gained of this person would still be valid.

"He wanted us to be friends," Harry stated.

Albus wanted them to be friends. Harry Potter wanted them to be friends. And, deep down, Severus Snape himself wanted them to be friends. If Lord Voldermort hadn't had the strength to stand against that triumvirate of Hogwarts' finest, what chance did Severus' resistance have?

"He never could take no for an answer," Severus remembered.

Harry smiled almost the same smile he'd give him when they were standing on top of one of their forts. "Is that a yes?"

Please, Albus, let this be the right decision, he silently prayed, and gave a tight nod of assent.

"It will work. I know it will. We just have to try," Potter said with the faith of a child.

"I give you my word that I will try. I can't promise that I will succeed," Severus cautioned.

"That's good enough," Harry accepted, so overjoyed that Severus could hardly credit that his friendship could have been that important. "If we try, we'll succeed. What could beat the both of us together?"

"What, indeed?" Severus seconded, but he knew the answer to that question.

As he saw the joyful confidence that his acceptance put into Harry's eyes, he swore that the one true threat to their friendship would never see the light of day. He was a master of self-denial. He'd chain that beast and keep it locked deep away. So long as Harry never suspected how he felt, they would be all right. If he could hide his change of loyalties from Voldemort for years, he could certainly keep a single feeling secret from Harry Potter. But somehow, he couldn't help but suspect that this would be harder.

Harry's friendship was worth it, though.

"So," Severus said as Harry self-consciously unhanded him, "what are we going to do now that we are friends? There isn't enough snow out there for a fort and my quarters are a little too small for a game of tag or Bobo Ball."

His attempt at levity was well received.

His cheeks flushed with an unaccountable excitement and his eyes glowing bright as a dark curse's green flames, Harry grinned and said, "Well, there's always Exploding Snap."

To his delight, the laughter was back.

Side by side, they returned to their armchairs to watch their unexpected, white-winged visitor flutter around the room.

Thank you, Albus, Severus silently toasted his old friend with his cognac, thank you.

The End