Disclaimer: J.K Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros. and whoever else own Harry Potter, not me. The title comes from W.B. Yeats' wonderful poem "The Two Trees." I'm making no money from this work of fan fiction or anything else on this website.

Warnings: If the rating wasn't clear enough for you, this story contains sex between an age-of-consent student (male) and his teacher (also male). And it's fairly graphic. If you can handle that, then by all means go ahead. Otherwise please leave now.

Feedback: Oh, God. Please. This story took me a year and a half to write. Let me know what you think about it, good or bad. I'm begging, here.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Corresponding." You should read the rest of the Tea series if you want this to make any sense. Also, please forgive my so-called use of "Latin" when I make up spells.

Sincere thanks to everyone who, over a long period of time, has taken a critical look at this with a beta-reader's gimlet eye: Tinderblast, JayKay, Jheran, Aspen, Lexin, Luthien, and Tradescant. You guys are fantastic and this story could never have been done without your help.

Especial thanks to Luthien, who dropped in midway-through the writing process and proved invaluable -- this story is pretty much seeing the light of day because of her. She's every writer's dream (and a dream of a writer herself)! Rock on, L. *adjusts halo*

A Wizard Song

Chapter 1 - The Arrival And The Reunion

By Telanu

       

"Do you like that?"

"Mm. Yes. Oh, yes. More. Please."

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Been wanting this like mad?"

"Yes, yes...feels so good...hurry up and..."

"Yes? Tell me what you want."

"I want -- "

Something jostled the bed on which Harry was entwined with his lover. Crankily, he looked up, opened his eyes --

-- and saw the mischevious gaze of Fred (or was it George?) Weasley not two inches from his own nose.

"AUGH!" Jolted into full wakefulness, Harry jerked away from the grinning boy and fell off the bed, landing in a tangle of rather sweaty sheets. Then he realised he had an erection. Oh God. The dream. Had he said anything out loud?

No, no, wait. He'd put the sleep-talking spell back on himself. It was all right. Harry forced his heartbeat to slow down to an acceptable level and glared up at the twin's unrepentant grin. "Funny way to wake somebody," he growled.

The boy winked, and Harry figured out it was Fred. Nobody could wink quite like Fred. "Oo, we were having a nice dream, weren't we?" he asked, his voice a low purr of insinuation. Humiliated, Harry scrabbled for more sheets to cover his groin. "Oh, smart up, Harry, it's not like we don't all get 'em when we wake up. And I am sorry to wake you -- " Harry wouldn't have bet a Knut on that one -- "but it's moving day. Everybody else is already up." A smirk. "Though it looks like you're up too, if you'll pardon me for saying so --"

Harry threw a pillow at him, more for form's sake than anything else. Moving day? For all the adrenaline coursing through his system, it still took Harry a moment to sort out that one. Was today the day to go back to Hogwarts? His heart skipped a beat at the thought, and then resumed pulsing disappointedly when he remembered. No, they still had a week left until term started, but Fred and George were moving out of the Burrow today and into the flat above Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade.

Things hadn't gone quite as well as the twins had hoped; by the time they'd finished school last year they still hadn't had enough money to open their own shop, in spite of the gold Harry had given them from the Triwizard Cup. But Mr. Zonko was very fond of both of them -- probably a combination of their innate talent for pranking and all their repeat business -- and he'd accepted the cash they did have as a sort of down payment on the shop. In the meantime, the twins would work for him for two years as apprentices, learning the trade, and when he retired after that the shop would be theirs. "Best we could hope for," George had said pragmatically while Mrs. Weasley frowned into her copy of Witch Weekly. She still wasn't too pleased with the joke shop business. The twins had done decently on their N.E.W.T.s, and she'd held out hope that they'd enter the Ministry like their older brother Percy.

She hadn't given up yet, either. "There's still time, you know," she'd said in a pleading voice, only last night. "Percy's just got that promotion, you know, he knows people, and of course there's always your father, not that I expect much help from him," with a venomous glance at Mr. Weasley, who had shrugged helplessly. "Utterly hopeless, the three of you...well, if you change your minds, you will contact Percy, won't you, dears?"

"Of course, Mum," George had said in a placating voice, and he and Fred had very diplomatically waited until they were back upstairs to start making gagging noises, causing Harry and Ron to stifle their laughter with pillows.

"Turn into Percy," Fred had muttered. "God!"

But this morning Harry couldn't help but reflect that maybe there was a little bit of Percy in Fred after all; he was hustled in a very businesslike way into the meagre shower stall and told that breakfast was being served on the double. "We've got to go!" Fred called excitedly into the bathroom. "Big day! Lots of stuff to move!"

"I'll be out in a minute," Harry called back exasperatedly. "I've only got two hands."

He instantly regretted saying it, and only the fact that his hands were covered with shampoo kept him from clapping them over his mouth. Sure enough, a purring voice came through the door offering, "Want some extra ones?"

"No thanks, Fred," Harry said quickly. "Really. Um. Why don't you go on down and I'll meet you there?"

Thankfully, Fred was too preoccupied this morning to continue teasing Harry, and Harry, to his relief, heard quick steps retreating from the bathroom. Three weeks. Three bloody weeks it had been like this, with Harry getting teased and pounced on and even grabbed by the twins at every available opportunity. He didn't even know if they were joking or not, which only made it worse. He'd tell them to stop, they'd look at him with that irresistible laughter in their eyes, and he'd feel a right fool for falling for the joke -- and then the next day they'd be at it again. Even in front of Ron, who wasn't any help at all, unless you counted staring in astonishment and then blushing furiously as "helpful."

"You better not try anything like that when Hermione comes," had been his only, rather fierce, comment. Thanks a lot, Ron, Harry thought bitterly as he finished rinsing off and reached for a towel.

By the time he dressed and trotted downstairs, the kitchen and living room were bustling with activity. Wonderful smells drifted from the stove as Mrs. Weasley prepared one of her typically miraculous breakfasts, and Harry's mouth watered at the smell. Ron was still at the table, quickly shovelling food in his face; Ginny and Mr. Weasley were busy helping Fred and George load the magic carpet waiting outside, and Harry had heard last night that even Bill would be coming to help. The carpet, normally illegal in Britain, was courtesy of a special dispensation from the Ministry of Magic -- apparently Mr. Weasley had an inside friend in the Magical Artifacts department. Either that or nobody wanted the flying Ford Anglia debacle to be repeated.

"But Charlie and Percy can't come," Mrs. Weasley had explained. "Charlie's off in Sudan, of course, you know they're having dreadful kinds of trouble with fire lizards down there, and Percy's so busy -- "

"Yeah, those expenditure reports are practically on fire themselves," George had said dryly, and had then beat a hasty retreat when Mrs. Weasley began to turn an alarming shade of red.

"Morning, sorry I'm late," Harry apologised as he sat down at the table with a loaded plate of kippers and eggs. Ron waved his hand and made snuffling noises around his food, while Mrs. Weasley merely gave him an indulgent smile. They ploughed through breakfast as quickly as they could without being sick, and then rushed outside.

Fred and George were staring regretfully at the already-loaded carpet. "Two months till we can try to get our Apparating licences again," George said gloomily. Apparently the twins were following in brother Charlie's footsteps; they'd failed the test the first time, and Fred had very nearly splinched himself in the doing. Mrs. Weasley hadn't been happy about that either. "Then we could've moved this stuff so much easier."

Mr. Weasley didn't seem to share his sons' feelings of regret; in fact, his eyes were sparkling. "Now, now, boys," he said, "the easiest way isn't always the best. I'm sure there's loads of advantages to moving this way. Why, I hear Muggles do this all the time, loading their things up and going about -- isn't that right, Harry?" He turned to look at Harry with an expectant beam.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, deciding not to mention that when Muggles moved places they usually didn't pack items like wizards' robes and thousands of prank items, and they definitely never used flying carpets.

Mr. Weasley beamed again. "See? Splendid! If I've told you all once I've told you a thousand times, there's so much we can learn from Muggles...whoops, careful now, carpet's starting to wobble a bit -- "

"That's because there's too much on it," Ginny put in, hands on her slim hips. Harry was surprised at the amount of time he'd put in this summer deliberately not looking at those hips. Well, he'd reasoned defensively, he was sixteen. It was only natural. And Ron probably wouldn't have killed him for taking the occasional gander at his little sister. Probably.

Certain other parties, however...

Harry derailed that train of thought at once, returning his mind to the matter at hand. One more week till Hogwarts. He could think about it then.

"We couldn't wangle two moving carpets," Mr. Weasley was saying, as patiently as if he hadn't already explained it twice. "Winthrop -- er, my colleague was having enough difficulty arranging one. It's just going to have to fit, that's all, and some of the smaller things I can Apparate myself. And Bill too, whenever he gets here. So glad you and Harry are up now, Ron...as you can see, we've got a few boxes left to load -- "

"At least they're already packed," Ron muttered as he and Harry dutifully went to fetch said boxes. "Cor! You wouldn't catch me packing up Fred and George's stuff for anything! God only knows what sort of things they've got lying around..."

Harry grinned. "Why, the risk of eating a stray Canary Cream alone..." Ron laughed.

It was a beautiful day. England's frequently cloudy skies had given way for a week of really exceptional weather, and he and the Weasleys had taken advantage of it every chance they got, swooping around on their brooms and having mock Quidditch matches until Mrs. Weasley called them inside at twilight. Today promised to be much the same, weather-wise, with blue skies and a refreshing amount of sunlight. If they had to spend the day hauling boxes up and down stairs, Harry reflected, at least today wasn't such a bad day to be doing it.

Arms loaded with boxes -- Fred and George had absolutely refused to shrink them to a more convenient size, claiming they contained "unstable" materials -- Harry and Ron had staggered to the front door and were headed out to the lawn when Ron stopped dead, jaw falling open. "Is that," he gasped, "who I think it is?"

Peering out from behind his own burden, Harry glanced about to see what Ron was talking about -- and immediately decided it was the inordinately large shape hurtling towards the Burrow on a flying motorcycle, off in the distance. "Hagrid!" Harry cried, feeling a grin breaking out on his face. "What on earth's he doing here?"

"I dunno," Ron grunted, shifting the boxes in his arms and heading out the door again. "Reckon he'll tell us when he lands."

By the time Hagrid landed, most of the boxes were at least sitting on the lawn, if not on the carpet. In their excitement at the new arrival, the Weasleys had forgotten for the moment about moving, even Fred and George. "Hagrid!" Mr. Weasley called jovially as the half-giant dismounted Sirius' bike. "What brings you here today?"

Hagrid took in the chaos on the lawn with one glance. "Eh... 'pears I've come at a bad time, sir?"

"S'moving day, Hagrid!" Fred called cheerfully. "Me and George are moving above Zonko's! We're his apprentices now!"

"And co-owners," George added proudly, pushing out his chest in a way that was startlingly reminiscent of Percy.

Hagrid's bearded face broke out into a huge grin. "Are yeh, now? Knew it, I did, yeh'd get into that sort o' thing sooner or later...looks like yeh did it sooner...well, best o' luck to ye both! I'm sure I'll be seein' a lot of yeh..."

"Hello, Hagrid," Mrs. Weasley said with a warm smile as she came outside, drying her hands on her apron. "What a surprise! I'm afraid we weren't expecting anybody today, but there's plenty of leftover breakfast if you're interested..."

To everybody's surprise, Hagrid shook his head apologetically -- though whether he was sorry about missing breakfast or for his next words, they later couldn't say. "Sorry, Molly. Afraid I'm here on Professor Dumbledore's business...wants Harry to come back to Hogwarts early, he does."

Cries of surprise greeted this statement, not the least of which came from Harry himself.

"Back to Hogwarts early?" Mr. Weasley asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he rather absentmindedly set another box on the carpet, which started to tilt alarmingly to one side. "Why? Is...something wrong?"

Everyone looked appropriately worried, and Harry was too, but he also felt the bite of guilt. If there was danger it was only right to go to Hogwarts -- but why should he be the only one? Were the Weasleys' lives less valuable than his somehow? Harry was sure Dumbledore thought no such thing, but still, he felt a little bad.

Well, Voldemort was after Harry, it was true, and the Weasleys would probably be a lot safer if he wasn't around in the event of trouble. But still. He remembered the horror stories he'd heard, some of them from Mr. Weasley himself...of coming home one night and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house. Of knowing what you would find inside.

He shuddered. If that were ever to happen to the Burrow and the family that lived inside it...then Harry wasn't all that certain he wanted to be spared. Not like that.

Hagrid shrugged, apologetic again. "He didn' say, sir. I s'pose it's possible, what with some of the goin's'-on we've been havin' -- poor Professor Snape's house, f'r example -- "

Harry shifted on his feet. Ron had told him all about the "accidental" fire at Snape Manor when he'd arrived at the Burrow, of course, and he'd had to act surprised. It had been difficult, especially since Ron hadn't seemed too sorry for Snape. Now he was muttering, " 'Poor Professor Snape,' right. I showed you that photograph -- the greasy git's got money, Dad said that much --"

"Later, Ron," Harry hissed, pretending that he really wanted to hear what Hagrid was saying. Well, he did, but he also wanted to shut Ron up.

"But it's only a week, right, Harry?" Hagrid boomed, turning to face Harry suddenly and lay an extraordinarily heavy hand on his shoulder. Harry tried not to stagger under its weight. "Then everybody'll be coming to Hogwarts and it'll be like normal. An' yeh can help me out gettin' ready for school to start...I'll even take yeh t' Diagon Alley t'get yer things, just like first year..."

Harry smiled, hoping the sudden butterflies in his stomach weren't obvious to everybody. "Yeah...I'm sure it'll be fine," he said weakly. Go back to Hogwarts? Today? He'd thought he had at least one more week to get used to the idea of seeing...of seeing Snape again, and even then it would have been surrounded by his friends. Now he'd be going back all by himself, to a castle that would seem deserted without the normal hustle and bustle of students there.

He couldn't decide whether it was terror or excitement that made his stomach churn. Maybe both.

"All my things," he said weakly. "Um, we can't fit them on the motorcycle...and, and I said I'd help Fred and George move..."

"We can get along fine without you, Harry," Mr. Weasley said kindly. "Though thank you for your help. You just pack up what you'll need for a week, and I'll see that Ron and Ginny bring the rest along with them on the train."

Harry looked apologetically at his friends. "I'm sorry," he said. Ron just shrugged and gave his usual lopsided grin, while Ginny smiled so brilliantly Harry almost winced. "Oh, it's no trouble, we're happy to do it," she replied, sounding almost breathless.

Still that same kind of adoration that had made him uncomfortable ever since second year. Another good reason not to stare at her hips.

Harry hurried back inside to pack a bag full of necessaries. By the time he was finished and came back outside, the flying carpet -- along with Fred, George and Mr. Weasley -- was gone.

"FrednGeorge said to tell you bye, and they'd be seeing a lot of you soon," Ron informed Harry, rolling his eyes. "I bet you can guess just how they said it, too."

Harry tried not to blush, and Ginny looked indignant. "I think it's awful of them, the way they talk to him." Then she looked at Harry and blushed as well.

"Don't tell me they managed to fit everything onto the carpet?" he asked, changing the subject as fast as he could and trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Nah," Ron said a bit sullenly, "they've got loads more things upstairs. It'll be at least two more trips. Lucky you get to skive off -- hey Hagrid, don't suppose Dumbledore said I could come too?" he added hopefully.

Hagrid looked regretful, but before he could say anything Mrs. Weasley broke in with a sharp, "Don't think you'll get out of doing for your brothers, young man, just as they'd do for you!"

"Er...I'm sorry I'm going to miss Hermione's visit," Harry said quickly. Hermione was arriving tomorrow and got to stay in the twins' old room, which was probably booby-trapped to the nines. He didn't envy her, and his eyes sparkled. "For entertainment value, if nothing else."

Ron grinned too, but his eyes told a different story. "Oh, I'll probably give the room a once-over before she gets here," he said casually, "you know, make sure there's nothing really dangerous in there..." his nonchalance was rather spoilt by his ears turning pink. Harry smiled again, though less cheerfully this time.

Ron and Hermione had been writing letters to each other all summer. Much like...

Mind off it, Potter. Deal when you get there. He gave everyone a hug, and even got a few motherly tears from Mrs. Weasley and an admonition to "be safe." Then, when he'd still barely had time to process the idea, he and his bag were bundled onto Hagrid's bike, a few last farewells were shouted out along with "See you in a week!" and the motorcycle was taking off into the sky. Harry vaguely wondered what kind of a flight plan would prevent Hagrid from being seen by the Muggles below -- maybe one of those Concealment Charms? -- but he didn't think about it for very long. The butterflies in his stomach had started up again, and in a big way.

He was going back to Hogwarts.

Back to Snape.

       

The motorcycle ride was long and uncomfortable; Harry knew it was a long way to Hogwarts from the Burrow, but the distance had always seemed so much shorter when he was traveling on the warm, candy-filled Express with all his friends. The farther north they got the colder it became, in spite of the warmth provided by Hagrid's massive bulk behind him, and by the time the castle loomed into view Harry's gloveless hands felt like they were frozen around his bag.

He was uncomfortably reminded of a certain broom ride he'd taken at the end of last term. No! Not now!

He had to stretch his legs carefully before dismounting the motorbike. Hagrid took his bag. "I shoulda had yeh bundle up more," he apologized. "I always fergit there's not a lot what can stand ter travel up in those winds fer hours..."

But Harry was already forgetting the unpleasantness of the ride as he stared up at the castle's enormous front doors. "It's all right," he said distractedly as the doors swung open before him, displaying the huge stone foyer; it seemed utterly foreign without his fellow robe-clad students running all over it. He thought to take his bag up to Gryffindor tower and get settled in, but before he'd taken two steps he heard a familiar voice calling him.

"Harry! How good to see you again, my boy."

Albus Dumbledore was descending the main staircase in a sweep of scarlet and purple. Harry smiled up at the headmaster, not a little curious as to why he'd been sent for so early. "Hullo, Professor. Did you have a nice summer?"

Then, as Dumbledore grew closer and Harry could see him better, he regretted asking the question. The old man had dark circles under his eyes, and the lines around his mouth were drawn thin with care. But Dumbledore managed his usual cheerful smile and said, "Ah! Too short, as always...I never seem to find the time to take that week on the Riviera, and I've had it in mind for years. Well, perhaps next year...and you, young Harry? How were your holidays?"

Harry personally thought a week on the Riviera would have done Dumbledore a lot of good, but of course he didn't say so. "Oh, about as usual, sir. The Weasleys say hello." They hadn't, actually, but Harry was sure they would have if they'd thought of it.

"The Weasleys! A bright spot in this weary world. Well, Harry," Dumbledore nodded down at Harry's bag, "I'm sure you'd like to go settle yourself, but I am equally sure you have some questions for me."

"Well, yes, sir..."

"Yes, yes. Come on up to my office; I am afraid I can only spare you a few moments, but they should be enough."

Still holding on to his bag, Harry tried not to fidget as they passed by the stone gargoyle -- "Cupcakes!" -- and ascended the moving staircase. Why had Dumbledore called him back a week early? Had something happened? It was only one of the many questions that had plagued his mind during the motorcycle flight and made it seem even longer.

The office was much the same as always, although Fawkes was clearly getting into his "haggard" stage, and the desk seemed to be covered with even more paper than usual. Dumbledore sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "I am sorry I have no tea to offer you this time...I've been rather busy today. But you do look a bit chill. Allow me to call for a house elf -- "

"That's all right," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine, honestly..." He didn't care about tea. Now he was getting nervous about so many things that he probably couldn't even drink it. That seemed to be pretty usual with him while he was sitting in this chair -- at least, just lately it did. "I'll, er, just get some lunch after I unpack."

Dumbledore nodded. "To business, then. You received the article I sent you earlier this month...suffice to say that regrettable incident was not the only one this summer. Two days ago another house was attacked, belonging to Sassafrass Gumble, an Auror...well, you wouldn't have known her..."

Have known. Harry's stomach dropped a little at the past tense. Well, whoever Sassafrass Gumble had been, he guessed her house hadn't been empty when the Death Eaters -- or whoever -- struck.

"At any rate, Voldemort has not made any major assaults beyond attacking individual households. But since you seem to be such a -- forgive me -- such a prominent target of his, we thought it best to remove you from the Weasleys'. For the safety of all involved."

Harry swallowed hard. "So now I'm gone...they're safe?"

Dumbledore looked sad. "As safe as anyone is, Harry. And I do have my eyes on the Weasleys. But it is best to remove all temptation from Voldemort's sight."

Harry stared down at his lap.

"I swear to you I shall do all that I can to protect them, Harry," Dumbledore said firmly.

Harry nodded, throat thick. "Yes, sir." But Dumbledore had to protect everyone. He didn't have time to look after everybody individually. Judging by those rings around his eyes, he didn't even have time to look after himself.

Then he firmly got ahold of himself. No, Dumbledore wasn't infallible; he'd learned that lesson last year. But he was still the most powerful wizard in the world, and the best man Harry had ever known. That counted for something. If he said he would protect the Weasleys, he would; and besides, school would be starting in a week. Fred and George were already in Hogsmeade, and soon Ron and Ginny would be safe at Hogwarts too. Bill and Charlie and Percy were all off on their own, and who could possibly want to hurt Molly and Arthur Weasley, anyway? It would be all right.

"Now," Dumbledore said briskly, "I'm afraid I have a meeting with a Ministry official in twenty minutes. I am sorry to have welcomed you with such news, Harry, but it is always better to be informed. And now that you are informed -- " his eyes regained the old sparkle for a moment, "do try to forget about it. Go and unpack your things, have a nice lunch down in the kitchens -- I am sure Dobby will be delighted to see you again -- and then report to Hagrid." He smiled. "There are always plenty of things to do in the week before school starts; I am sure the professors will be delighted to have your assistence."

At the word "professors" Harry's stomach turned over again. This kind of nervousness, he reflected, was really far more pleasant. He headed for the door, bag in tow. "Yes, sir. I'll be happy to. Er...speaking of...how's Professor Snape been doing?"

He stood in the open doorway and turned to see Dumbledore's silver eyebrows raise slightly. "Why, Harry," he said, lip quirking in amusement, "you mean to tell me you don't know?"

Harry felt his face flushing all the way back down the stairwell.

       

Sitting alone on his bed in Gryffindor tower, Harry carefully unpacked his bag.

When you had to pack and you were really pressed for time, you tended to grab what was most important to you, even if it wasn't the most practical thing. So instead of useful things like seven days' worth of clothes, he'd packed the invisibility cloak and A Wizard's Manual Of Same-Sex Sex, along with a few other necessaries. He also had the phial of Somniesperus, still carefully wrapped in its cloth and quickly put away in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. And then there were Snape's letters from this summer.

He'd learned a charm to put on them so they would look like something else, just like the Marauder's Map. But he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. So rather than destroy the letters, which probably would have been the smartest thing to do, he'd carefully separated their pages and stuck them in with his summer notes. Not even Fred and George were so prank-happy that they'd willingly sort through a ton of parchment on Potions studies on the off chance they might find something interesting. It had been risky, and more than once Harry had surreptitiously peeked through his things at the Weasley house to make sure the letters were undisturbed. Snape probably would have been furious if he knew. But Harry wasn't about to get rid of those letters.

And it had all turned out all right, thank goodness, he thought, carefully sorting through the notes and picking out letter pages when he found them. Really, coming back to Hogwarts a week early wasn't all bad; now he had the room all to himself and he could put the spell on the letters without fear of anybody noticing. Especially if he messed it up somehow.

When he'd gone through everything three times, and was sure he had all the letters in their proper order, Harry picked up the first page and waved his wand over it, beginning to mutter. It was actually a pretty complicated spell. He'd studied it for days to make sure he had it memorised properly. Which was good, because the only textbook he'd had room for in his bag was the one for Potions. First...first he had to obscure the parchment's original contents.

"Cubris verbum."

The neat, precise handwriting disappeared. Harry sweated. He hoped this worked, or that was one page he'd never get back. Now to set the code words; Harry leaned in close to the parchment and whispered the secret phrase that, if all this was done properly, would return the letters to their original state, and then tapped the paper with the tip of his wand. The page remained blank, as it should. Harry was tempted to leave the letters blank, maybe even use them to take notes in Potions class -- he snickered at the thought -- but if someone asked to borrow one of his spare sheets of parchment he'd be in trouble. So he murmured "Se llenaum ad transfigura preteritis" -- and boom. His Transfiguration notes covered the page. Harry felt his chest swell with pride.

Of course, that could be premature on his part. Time to test the spell. He tapped the paper with his wand and whispered his secret phrase, trying not to blush or giggle: "Professor Snape is a sexy bitch." It was a pretty safe bet nobody would say that offhandedly in the tower and risk triggering the spell somehow. And he could definitely remember it.

To his delight, the Transfiguration notes blurred, and the letters on the page reshaped themselves into Snape's handwriting, epistle intact. Heart beating fast, Harry tapped the page again and said, "Thank you for the letter." The letter morphed back into class notes. It had worked! Trying to keep from bouncing on the bed in self-congratulation, Harry set himself to charming the other ones, glad for the first time that Snape wrote short letters.

He finished about half an hour later, with his growling stomach requesting food. Without bothering to unpack anything else, Harry tucked the "notes" back with the others, careful to set them apart a bit so he wouldn't get them mixed up. He'd feel pretty stupid if he tried to transform actual Transfiguration homework. Then he stood up and stretched, smiling happily and wondering what the house elves had in the way of lunch.

       

Dumbledore had been correct: Dobby was indeed happy to see him ("Oh, Dobby is so glad you is safe, Harry Potter!"). The ever-helpful house-elf was quick to supply him with a tray full of interesting selections ("Is you preferring rhubarb or mustard sandwiches, Harry Potter?"), was very interested in finding out how Harry's summer had been ("Does Harry Potter's fat uncle still shout at him?") and wondering if Harry knew the latest gossip ("Houses is being burned down by bad dark wizards, Harry Potter! Dobby is thinking his old master helped!...Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"). By the time lunch was over, Harry's ears were ringing and Dobby was getting quite a few glares from more traditional house-elves who would never have dreamed of maligning their masters, former or otherwise, in such a way. Harry was glad to escape the kitchens and go back upstairs.

What had been Dumbledore's instructions for after lunch? Oh yes, Hagrid, who would presumably send Harry where his help was most needed. Harry sighed. He'd probably have to help with handling the latest nasty batch of monsters Hagrid had acquired so that Harry and his fellow hapless classmates could learn all about "interestin' creatures." Maybe if he was lucky Hagrid would hand him off to another professor -- he could spend a nice peaceful afternoon in the greenhouse with Professor Sprout, maybe, or help Professor Sinistra set up the astronomy labs. Or maybe...maybe he could go down to the...

Dammit, this fluttery-stomach business had to end sometime. Harry was certain if he didn't see Snape sometime that day he'd go mad. Of course, he might go mad if he did see Snape too. He'd already started jumping every time he saw something black out of the corner of his eye, wondering if it was a robe; it was usually a shadow. If he kept going at this rate he'd be vibrating.

Harry dolefully climbed the kitchen stairs back up to the foyer. This was getting ridiculous. Snape was probably holed up in his precious dungeons doing ...whatever it was he did before school started. More than likely Harry would get stuck with Filch, sweeping out the sheds or something equally horrid.

He felt his steps slowing at the prospect, but he had to reach the top of the stairs eventually. When he entered the foyer, it was with eyes downcast and a slightly heavy heart, so naturally it happened then. He'd barely gone four steps across the stone floor when two shiny black shoes entered his line of vision -- too late to prevent him from running into their owner, who emitted a small grunt of surprise. Harry froze.

The smell of almonds and something else familiar. A warm and solid body. And that was definitely a black robe.

Trying hard to swallow his heart again, Harry stepped back quickly and looked up into the dark eyes of Severus Snape.

The sharply planed face was unusually lacking in expression -- no sneer was present, not even so much as a raised eyebrow. The thin lips opened and a cool, deep voice said, "Ah, yes. Dumbledore did mention you'd be coming today."

And all of a sudden, just like that, Harry felt a deep, hot happiness welling up inside him. That voice. He'd heard it coming off the parchment all summer long, but he'd been without it for the past three weeks; now it was back again. He was startled to find out how much, in retrospect, he'd missed it. The nervousness was still there, but it had no chance to show itself in the face of this sudden, bewildering delight and he felt his lips stretching out into a joyful grin.

At the sight of it, Snape's eyes widened.

"Yeah," Harry said, rather astonished himself. "I just got in an hour ago." Then he realised he was grinning like a fool and made himself stop, though his insides still bubbled. Anybody who walked by would think Snape had hit him with some kind of smiling hex or something, and that wouldn't do. "Um, how are you?"

"Fine," Snape replied, still looking a bit dazed. "Well. You certainly look...er, happy. I trust your stay with the Weasleys was not that intolerable?" His tone, quickly regaining its coolness, implied that he would quite understand if it had been.

"It was great," Harry said simply. "But I'm glad to be back too."

For the second time in as many minutes Snape looked surprised, though Harry had said nothing outrageous -- and then the cool face reasserted itself with ease, though he still didn't say anything. For a few moments, they just stared at each other in silence. Harry's mind was whirling. What could he possibly say to the man? Conversation had been pretty easy between them at the end of last term, and it wasn't so hard when you were able to think out your responses before writing them down on a piece of parchment, but here and now he was stymied. He'd never been good at small talk, and God knew Snape was probably worse. He blurted out, "So how's your house?" at the same time Snape asked, "And where are you going now?"

They stared at each other again, Snape finally raising that eyebrow and Harry blushing. "My house," Snape said dryly, "is about as can be expected."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit silly. Stupid question! Get it under control, Potter. It was bad enough when you gushed in your letters. "Well, I'm, I'm just off to see Hagrid. Du -- the headmaster wants me to help out with things until school starts."

Snape's lips quirked. "Heaven help us all," he drawled. "Do try not to pull the school down around our heads before the term even begins, Mr. Potter."

Harry glared at him before it occurred to him that Snape might well be making a joke. Was that possible? Snape and jokes? "I'll try," he replied cautiously. "Uh, do you need help with anything?"

The thin lips drew back into their usual line. "I believe I can manage for now."

"Oh," Harry said, the euphoria finally dying as he abruptly felt foolish. Of course Snape could "manage" perfectly well. By himself. "Oh. Right."

Snape's eyes hadn't left his face yet, and a faint frown line appeared between those dark brows as he watched Harry's expression fall.

"Well," Harry muttered. "I'll just go and see Hagrid and...it was nice running into...I mean, it was nice seeing you and I'm sorry I ran into..." Damn. Could he sound more idiotic if he tried? "Er, see you tonight at dinner."

Snape's face still hadn't lost its considering expression. "Perhaps," he said neutrally. "I find I rarely have time for dining in the Great Hall these days."

Ouch. Okay, that hurt. But Harry could feel his own eyes narrowing as his brain finally jerked back into gear. Snape had everything under control but didn't have time to come up for food? Right.

That was about enough of small talk.

"I'd really like to talk to you," he said frankly. "Maybe sometime later today." And maybe do more than talk. He hadn't read that book and charmed those letters for nothing, and he was damned if he was going to let Snape wriggle away like a worm from a hook. They had kissed. They had written letters. Snape had sent him a bloody birthday gift, for God's sake. They couldn't suddenly pretend they'd never done any of those things. Harry wouldn't allow that. Not when it was so very important -- to him, at least.

And his gut voice, which was usually right, was telling him it was important to Snape too.

Snape didn't look away, but a dull red flush filled his hollow cheeks. Harry tried not to smirk. "I am not certain that would be wise," Snape replied finally.

That did it. Harry glanced around the foyer before leaning in and whispering furiously, "I missed you. I haven't heard from you in three weeks and I had no idea how you were. I want to talk to you."

Now Snape looked away. "That would look odd, don't you think?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Not if nobody sees me," Harry replied. Snape's head snapped back around to stare at him, dark eyes going wide again as Harry's smaller hand quickly darted out to brush against his own. Trying to control the sudden hammering of his heart, Harry continued, "So I'll come down tonight. Sometime after dinner. And we'll talk."

"Talk," Snape repeated blankly, and then appeared to shake himself. "Ah. Talk. Er...I don't think..." he paused, and then glanced down to see the obvious challenge in Harry's eyes. His own eyes narrowed into a glare. "Very well," he snapped. "Have it your way. But you must not be seen."

Harry tried, and failed, to keep from smiling. "I won't be."

"And," Snape added firmly, though he seemed to be having trouble meeting Harry's gaze again, "I can assure you that talking is all we will be doing." He folded his arms across his chest, either for emphasis or in self-defence.

"Yeah. Of course," Harry replied calmly, though his inner voice was cackling like mad. "I have to go see Hagrid now. I'll see you tonight." Snape nodded, and turned on his heel, stalking off. Harry noticed his hands were clenched into fists.

Harry turned around and trotted out the front door, grinning like a fool again.

Have it your way.

He certainly hoped so.

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