A Wizard Song

Chapter 17 - Decisions in the Dark

By Telanu

       

March came to Hogwarts roaring like the Gryffindor lion. Over the first weekend the winds were so fierce that Imogene cut Sunday Quidditch practice short, an unprecedented event, and Harry spent the afternoon and evening ensconced in the library with Hermione and Ron; he and Ron worked frantically at their Divination assignment due the next day, while Hermione was, as always, sending herself into a tizzy about the year-end exams.

That night he trudged up to his bed in exhaustion, glad for once that Severus was too busy marking essays to see him tonight, even glad that he was too tired to slip down to the library and pursue his studies. He wasn't sure why he was so tired; maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to him at last? Whatever the reason, he changed blearily into his pyjamas, and fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleeping straight through the night for the first time in ages.

Shortly before morning, he dreamed.

The sky above was red, and the sand below was black. He was sitting on a large stone, which felt warm through the fabric of his trousers, and he felt as content as a well-fed snake. In his hands he held a goblet that looked like it was made completely out of gold.

The goblet was full of liquid. Red liquid. When Harry lifted the goblet up to his mouth, he could smell it well enough to recognise it as blood.

It smelled good. Harry felt an upsurge, deep within himself, of satisfaction -- the kind he felt when he caught the Snitch, or did well on a test. The joy of a job well done, although he couldn't have said why.

He leaned his head back so that he was staring into the reddened sky and drank deeply of the goblet. The blood was as warm as the rock, and coursed down his throat, and no matter how much he drank, there was never any less in the goblet. It was so good. It was better than butterbeer, better than anything he'd ever tasted, and he just knew that he could have as much as he wanted, for always. He'd never be without.

There was too much to swallow. It spilled out of the corners of his mouth, streaking down his chin and his shirt and into his lap. And there was more. And still more.

He'd never known he was so thirsty -- he'd never known --

"Harry! Harry, you've got to see this -- Harry, wake up!"

Harry woke up.

He woke with a vague, inexplicable feeling of anger, like he'd just been interrupted from something really good, really absorbing. His mind tried to snatch at the dream as it fled, but it was gone, like a lot of wake-up dreams. Oh well…at least it had been pleasant. Maybe he'd been dreaming about sex again? But no -- he didn't even have a morning erection, which was weird…

"Harry, come on!"

Harry recognised Ron's voice. It was considerably excited. Ron never got this excited in the morning. Harry sat up, rubbing blearily at his eyes. "What?" he mumbled. "Whatsamatter?"

"Look at this!" There was a rustling of paper as Ron shoved something directly beneath his nose. Harry realised that there seemed to be a lot of excited chatter inside the dormitory room.

"Is it true?" Dean was saying.

"Looks true," Seamus replied.

"Is he really your godfather, Harry?" That was Colin Creevey's voice, and he didn't room with them, but as he registered the word 'godfather,' Harry promptly forgot about all other considerations. He fumbled his glasses onto his nose and took hold of the paper Ron was shoving at him. It was that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet.

"I went down to breakfast early," Colin was babbling, "I mean, earlier than most people, I always do, and there weren't many people there, but they were all talking about the paper, and I subscribe, so my copy was at my seat, and when I saw it I just had to bring it up, Harry, because, you know, it says -- "

"Shut up and let him read, Colin!" Ron snapped.

Harry was staring at the enormous headline, with his jaw nearly hanging down on his breastbone.

IS SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?

Followed by not one, but two sub-headlines:

Peter Pettigrew Alive -- and a DE?

Pettigrew Hauled to Ministry by Fugitive Black

Then Harry's vision swam and he felt himself sway a little on the bed. Ron put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Look," he was saying excitedly, "look, there're pictures of Sirius with Pettigrew and everything. There's proof Sirius didn't kill him. I think the article says the Minstry'll give them both Veritaserum or something, the whole story'll come out, they'll have to let Sirius go!"

Harry tried to focus enough to read the article, but he couldn't concentrate; more people were coming into the room and the noise was getting unbearable. He could hear girls' voices now, too.

Ron was continuing, his voice a low whisper. "I bet it even comes out we helped him escape, but they won't be able to get us for it now, will they! We'll be heroes, Harry!"

"If the Ministry makes the information public," Harry heard Hermione say, close behind Ron. "Come on, really, all of you! If Professor McGonagall hears this lot, we're all in trouble -- go to breakfast, there's copies of the paper down there. Harry will be down in a few minutes, won't you, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry lied gratefully. Hermione, aided by Ron, ushered the crowd out of the room. Then they quickly shut the door behind the last person, and Hermione bolted it firmly shut before she and Ron dashed to sit down by Harry on the bed so they could all read the article together.

The byline read: Benedictus Gribble, Ministry Liaison

The public was stunned today when the Ministry of Magic released a statement saying that the infamous felon, Sirius Black, had turned himself in after years on the run, with Peter Pettigrew in tow.

Pettigrew has long been thought dead, supposedly murdered by Black, along with dozens of innocent Muggles. Black claims that Pettigrew, not himself, was an agent of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and was in fact responsible for the Muggle deaths, and many others as well -- including the deaths of the Potter family. The Ministry is currently investigating his claim.

"So far his story bears up," says a Ministry source who does not wish to be named. "They'll both be given truth serums multiple times, of course, but just the fact that Pettigrew's alive and Black turned himself in counts for a lot, as far as we're concerned."

Black was a close friend of the Potters, and is in fact Harry Potter's godfather. It is unknown at this time whether or not he has ever contacted Harry Potter.

Pettigrew was awarded the Order of Merlin posthumously. The Ministry declines to comment on how he survived the blast that killed so many Muggles, or why he has not been sighted before now.

Black claims to have been working for Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and longtime foe of You-Know-Who. Dumbledore has not yet been available for comment, but has promised to contact the Daily Prophet in time for the evening edition…

The rest of the article went on in a similar vein, with a few more unattributed quotes. It devoted a paragraph to describing Sirius' excellent academic record at Hogwarts, along with his penchant for getting in trouble, and went on to speculating about the possibility of other Death Eaters, like Pettigrew, who remained completely undetected. Apparently Benedictus Gribble didn't like using the same words twice; he kept trying to come up with inventive nicknames for Voldemort, including "The Infamous One" and "The Nameless No-No." Harry was a little surprised; so far the Prophet had kept absolutely mum on the question of Voldemort's return. But then again, Gribble didn't exactly say Voldemort was back -- just that there might be a few of his supporters left…

But it didn't matter. Sirius was back in England. Sirius had caught Pettigrew. He would be free soon.

"That must have been what he meant in his letters!" Hermione said excitedly, when they'd got to the end of the article. "About the mission that would make you both happy…"

"Yeah," Harry said dazedly, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I can't believe it…he's been running so long, and now…"

"He'll be able to have a proper supper for a change," Ron said. There was a pause.

Then they were all laughing helplessly together, and Hermione started crying, and she threw her arms around both Harry and Ron, and the paper fluttered to the floor while Harry let himself be clutched, and he thought of Sirius having a proper supper, and he'd never seen such a bright morning in his life.

       

Harry didn't have to go to Divination that morning; right after breakfast, a very noisy affair in the Great Hall, he was summoned to Dumbledore's office.

Instead of having Harry sit across from his desk, Dumbledore invited him to sit in one of two plush-looking armchairs. When Dumbledore sat down, his armchair made a snorting noise, as if waking up. Dumbledore patted the armrest lightly and smiled at Harry as he offered him a tray of biscuits.

Harry took a biscuit and then just held it, not caring that he got crumbs in his lap. He couldn't stop smiling. He didn't care if he looked like an idiot.

"Will he be all right?" he asked Dumbledore hopefully. "He -- he will, won't he?"

Dumbledore smiled again. "I see you have anticipated the reason for your summons," he said. "I am sure you are aware that I have my contacts at the Ministry, Mr. Potter. It is my hope that soon things will indeed be 'all right' for Sirius, after many years of suffering. I assure you, you are not alone in the pleasure you feel today."

"Brilliant," Harry breathed. "How long will it take? Do you know? Will I be able to see him?"

"Both Sirius and Peter Pettigrew will be kept in confinement for some time yet," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry will want to question them extensively, and then, of course, there will have to be another trial...I will do my best to see that you may exchange a few messages, however."

"Oh." Harry's spirits were dampened slightly. "Well…thank you, sir."

"It may take some months," Dumbledore said gently. "But the process is in motion -- and he need no longer live in fear. That is a great gift to him, Harry."

"Thank you," Harry said again. "I got some letters from him -- he said you'd sent him on his mission, although he wouldn't tell me what. But it's got him freed. Thank you so much, sir -- "

Dumbledore regarded him steadily. "These are dark times, Harry, and growing darker," he said. "Sirius Black is a brave and valiant man, and willing to do all he can for our cause. He knew, as did I, that it would be much easier for him to act if he did not have to fear unjust arrest. His battles are not over -- none of our battles are. But I know he will be very pleased to see you again. It has been nearly two years, hasn't it?" Dumbledore paused, and added, "Which brings me to my next point…"

Then he trailed off. Harry waited, bewildered and trying not to squirm. He yearned to ply Dumbledore with questions, but knew from experience that did no good.

"It is likely," Dumbledore said quietly, "that Sirius will want, as your godfather, to take you under his legal guardianship once the Ministry clears him of guilt."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"It is legally feasible, although I imagine he would not do so without your consent…"

"My consent?" Harry gasped. "My consent? Yeah! Yeah, I give my consent! I could live with him at the Ministry, this summer, if he's still stuck there -- "

"Harry -- "

"I will, I swear, oh please, Professor -- "

"Harry," Dumbledore said firmly. "I had certainly not expected you to say anything but 'yes'; however, I would like to ask you if you have fully considered all the consequences and implications of this."

Harry stared at him. What was Dumbledore on about? Then it occurred to him. "Oh," he said, "well -- I reckon people don't know we've been in contact, or that Hermione and I helped him escape -- but that won't matter now, will it?" He could feel himself grinning again. "I mean, they can't blame us for getting an innocent man away from the Dementors, can they?" He felt exuberant, lighter than air, as if he could fly without a broomstick. He felt an urge to fling his arms around Dumbledore and whoop for joy. It had all turned out all right, for once, it really had!

Dumbledore smiled a little, but his eyes were still serious. He looked at Harry for a few more minutes before saying, "Very well, Harry. That is all. I imagine the Daily Prophet will want to contact you, but I would prefer not to allow that. If you have further questions, please let me know."

Harry nodded, and left. It didn't occur to him until he was halfway down the stairs that Dumbledore hadn't seemed entirely satisfied with his response about considering the consequences. But he hadn't pressed any farther, either.

It was almost time for Divination to end, so Harry decided to skive off on the last few minutes of class and go see Hagrid before heading to the Herbology greenhouses. Hagrid was, predictably, delighted.

"Ter think," he said, blowing his nose in a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase, "I spen' all them years thinkin' he was a traitor -- cursin' him for what I thou' he did t'yehr parents -- an' he was locked up on account of someone else, bless him!" Another prodigious nose-blow, which sounded louder than a foghorn. "An' then that Triwizard Tournament, an' Dumbledore tellin' me afterwards how he was fightin' for our side all along…coulda knocked me over with a feather, yeh coulda…an' now he's free! Great man, Dumbledore -- great man -- "

"Yeah," Harry agreed, glad that Hagrid could share his happiness, and that he wouldn't have to make any messy explanations. He had to leave for Herbology in very short order, but before he left, Hagrid made him promise to come to his hut after dinner with Ron and Hermione so they could all celebrate.

Herbology was very noisy, and very unproductive. Everybody wanted to talk to Harry and ask him about his infamous godfather: even Neville made eye contact once or twice. Professor Sprout made a few desultory efforts to restore order, but Harry couldn't help noticing that she listened very closely to everything he said.

He didn't say much, though. He thought it might be better that way: it would probably be smarter not to reveal the role he and his friends had played in Sirius' escape until they were sure things would be all right in the Ministry. Hermione seemed to share his opinion, as he had expected she would, and they managed to keep a lid on Ron with a combination of quelling glances and judiciously-applied elbows.

Eventually Professor Sprout had enough -- perhaps helped along by the fact that Harry wasn't divulging anything interesting -- and ordered everyone to get to work. Harry, Ron and Hermione all got together in a group and worked on grafting a Stingleweed specimen onto a cut piece of American tumbleweed.

"What a great idea," Ron grunted as his thumb got stabbed again. "Stingers that come chasing after you."

"You know why you're pricking yourself?" Hermione asked. "Because you haven't got your gloves on, that's why."

Ron wasn't listening, however. Harry could tell by the arrested expression on his face that a pleasant thought had just occurred to him. "Oh, I can't wait for lunch," he chortled. "Can you imagine -- I just want to get a look at Snape's face!"

Harry suddenly felt as if his stomach had dropped into a well.

Severus -- oh, God. Harry had been so happy, he hadn't even thought…

I would like to ask you if you have fully considered all the consequences and implications of this. Suddenly Harry was certain that was what Dumbledore had meant. Which explained why he hadn't come right out and said it.

"Pity we haven't got Potions till Wednesday, really," Ron continued, a malevolent grin on his face as he held the tumbleweed branches flat so Hermione could have a go at them. "I think I could put up with anything he dished out, just knowing what caused it."

"I'm glad we don't have him today," Hermione said firmly. "I'm sure he'll be in an awful temper and he'd be much worse if we were there. You know he's always suspected we helped Sirius escape," she added in a lower voice. "Hasn't he, Harry?"

"What? Oh. Yeah," Harry said, distracted. In his head, he heard Severus' voice as it had been at Christmas: Where were you on the night Sirius Black escaped from Hogwarts? It was a point that apparently still rankled with his lover. This wasn't going to help. At all.

"Right," Hermione said. "I vote we lay low and stay out of his way."

"Fine," Ron said, looking reluctant, "but you're not stopping me from getting a good look at his horrible, ugly, greasy face, first chance I get."

"Well." Was it Harry's imagination, or was Hermione wearing a very small smile? "Nobody's saying we can't look."

       

Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to look. Although he knew he would. He wouldn't be able to stop himself.

But it didn't matter. Severus wasn't at lunch. Nor was he at dinner that night. "Licking his wounds," Ron proclaimed with malicious satisfaction. "Hey, Harry -- now that Sirius is a free man, what's the betting he comes in here and gives Snape the what for?"

"He's not a free man yet," Hermione reminded him.

"Near as makes no difference," Ron said impatiently. "What do you say, Harry?"

"I -- I think Sirius will be really busy," Harry managed. "That's what Dumbledore said, anyway. I bet he has lots of things for him to do."

"Yeah, but this wouldn't take long," Ron grinned. "Admit it, Harry. It'd be grand. We could sell passes, practically."

Harry smiled weakly. "I just hope he doesn't do anything that would get him sent to Azkaban," he said, and he wasn't sure whether he was referring to Sirius or Severus.

"I'm sure Sirius has loads of things to think about besides Snape," Hermione said firmly. "I mean, it is worrying -- all those people in the Ministry we don't know can be trusted -- how do we know they won't take Pettigrew's side?"

"Like Fudge," Harry said grimly. The unctuous little Minister of Magic had been oddly silent during the Daily Prophet scandal surrounding Harry and Snape, but Harry was fairly certain that was because there were other things going on that nobody was supposed to know about. And Dumbledore had probably had something to do with it as well; but this was more serious. Could they trust Fudge to do the right thing and not worry about his political position? Harry didn't think so.

"Dumbledore has friends in the Ministry," Ron reminded him. "Nothing will go wrong. You said he was confident."

Harry poked at his salad. "I'm just not used to things never going wrong," he said. "I hope you're right." Although he was fairly certain something would go wrong, and pretty soon. Severus must be feeling ready to explode. Harry knew he'd have to go talk to him, even though it might not be very pleasant.

He hoped it would be okay. He needed it to be okay. He wasn't going to stop being happy about Sirius, but he wasn't going to lose Severus again, either. He couldn't. He'd have to make Severus understand that, somehow, things could still work out -- if Severus would just not be so angry...

Maybe he should just order the moon out of the sky while he was at it, he thought, stabbing his fork savagely through a wedge of tomato.

"Goodness! Is that the time?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Hurry up and eat, Harry, we've got to go see Hagrid before it gets very late."

Glad of the change of subject, Harry pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm done," he said. "Not very hungry -- let's go -- "

To his relief, the subject of Snape did not come up again that night. Instead Hagrid gave them all bottles of butterbeer he'd procured from the Three Broomsticks, and Ron even managed to talk him into sharing some of his home brew with them. After one taste of the vile, potent stuff Harry quickly put down his glass, and Hermione refused to even touch it, but Ron drank his entire serving and looked very ill afterwards.

But even Ron's green face couldn't put a damper on the spirit of the evening. Harry resolutely put Severus out of his mind and tried to recapture the feeling of that morning, the unfettered happiness that Sirius was free at last. It was stupid to sit around thinking about how that might put Severus in a snit. Sirius must be so happy. Sirius deserved this. That alone should be more than enough for Harry.

So it was that Hagrid heard the story of Sirius' escape from Hogwarts on that fateful night, with Harry doing his best to explain how the Time-Turner had worked, while Hermione seemed mainly to remember how frightening it had been to fly on Buckbeak and Ron tried to make being laid up on a bed in the hospital wing sound like an act of heroism. By the time they were done, Hagrid's eyes were overflowing with tears.

"So it's yeh what set Beaky free!" he said, blowing his nose heartily, cheeks apple-red. "An' all ter help poor Sirius…an' I never knew…never knew ter thank yeh…"

"It was Dumbledore's idea, really," Hermione said modestly as she patted Hagrid's arm. "Nobody else knew I had the Time Turner, and I would never have thought of it on my own -- he just gave us a little nudge, so to speak -- "

"Bless 'im," Hagrid sobbed. "An' -- d'yeh think Beaky'll be able ter come back too, now? I'll have ter ask Dumbledore, when he's got a minnit…great man, Dumbledore, great man…"

Hagrid asked them to tell the story again and again, and seemed to have an unlimited supply of butterbeer to help them along. Everybody's spirits were running high, and before they left they even sang "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" in honour of Sirius, while Hagrid waltzed a blushing and laughing Hermione around the hut, being very careful not to step on her toes.

"Bit different, not dancin' with another giant," he said, and turned red again.

Soon enough, though, Hermione looked at her watch, gasped, and announced they had to return to the castle right away if they didn't want to get in trouble; it was after curfew, and Filch would start making his rounds within the hour. Harry and Hermione carefully supported Ron, who was swaying slightly and still looking a little ill, until he could stand on his own and stagger his way back up to the school. Hagrid waved them goodbye from his hut, still wearing a huge, teary grin, Fang peeking out from behind his legs.

Hermione parted company with the boys in the common room, and Harry helped Ron up the stairs. "What was in that stuff?" Ron groaned. "Never let me drink it again."

"I can't believe you drank it at all, after you tasted it," Harry said. By the time they entered their dormitory, everyone else was already in bed, so they made their way to Ron's bed as quietly as possible.

"Just lay me down," Ron muttered. "Don't want to undress -- just want to sleep for a year -- worse than the Draught of Living Death." Harry helped him get his shoes off, at least, but as soon as Ron's head hit the pillow he was out like a snuffed candle.

Harry also crawled into bed without undressing or even taking off his shoes. His heart beat in an unpleasant staccato. All round him were the sounds of soft, even breathing and rumbling snores. Everyone was asleep; it was an ideal moment to dig out his cloak and creep down to the dungeon. But he'd never felt his courage fail him like this before, even at the beginning of the school year. It might be better to wait. Give Severus a day to cool off. Or two. That would probably be the prudent thing, really.

Harry sighed heavily, if silently, and pulled his invisibility cloak out from underneath his mattress, preparing to leave the curtains' safe cocoon. Sometimes it was really inconvenient, knowing the right thing to do.

       

The door did not swing open at his touch. Nor did it respond to the password. Apparently Severus had changed it.

Not a good sign.

And it probably meant Severus wanted to be left alone. If Harry had any sense, he'd leave right now.

He scratched at the door again, and then, when that didn't work, knocked lightly, praying Filch was nowhere around. "I'm not going anywhere!" he whispered at the wood, as if Severus would somehow be able to hear him on the other side.

But perhaps he could after all, because the door silently swung open. Harry's heart jumped around unsteadily in his chest and he hugged the cloak more closely about himself as he went inside.

Severus was sitting in front of the fire, gazing into the flames, as he often was when Harry came in. But there was a new kind of tension in the air, one that made the room's atmosphere stifling. Severus didn't look up when Harry came in. He didn't make a sound.

Harry pulled off his cloak, trying not to let his fingers tremble. He prayed frantically that he wouldn't say the wrong thing, whatever that was. "Severus?" he whispered.

"I have let you in, Potter," Severus said, speaking through his teeth and still staring at the fire, "in order that I may tell you to go away."

Harry thought about saying, 'Why?', and did not. Playing innocent wouldn't do any good. It would be best to cut straight to the point. Probably. If there was a point. "Please don't call me Potter," he said instead, feeling as if he had to stop whatever was about to happen, when he didn't even know what that was.

"And why not?" Severus asked, still not looking up. "It may have escaped your notice, but I am very, very angry. I am angrier than I can remember being in a long time. I am so angry that once you get me started, I know I will not be able to stop. And if you stay," his voice rose slightly over Harry's protests, "I know myself well enough to believe that I will do or say something to you that neither of us will be able to forget or forgive."

Harry supposed that this was pretty good for Severus. Usually he just let loose and things had to be patched up later. On the other hand, if he was actually giving a warning like this -- he must be really, incredibly angry --

Severus suddenly sniffed the air. "Do I smell alcohol?" he asked sharply.

Harry nearly jumped. "Er, yeah," he said uncomfortably. "We were at Hagrid's hut for a bit -- you know he's got that home brew stuff, it tastes awful, smells pretty strong, but I didn't -- "

"I see," Severus hissed. "You've been celebrating."

Harry swallowed. "Severus -- " he tried. "No, it's not -- it's not us, it has nothing to do with us, it's -- "

"YOU HELPED HIM ESCAPE," Severus shouted, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair, and Harry really did jump this time. Severus took a couple of deep, straining breaths, before lowering his voice to a shaking whisper and saying, "And it has nothing to do with us? Nothing? When you somehow yanked him right out from under my nose and I know you did it? When likely the whole story will come out in the Prophet soon enough, and you'll look like a hero again, and I like an utter fool?"

"That's not my fault," Harry yelled, anger suddenly overcoming him. Couldn't Severus see what that night had really been about? Did he only think about it in terms of how it had affected him? "He wasn't Voldemort's servant, and he didn't deserve the Dementor's Kiss, and I couldn't let that happen to him! I would have done the same for you, even then! It doesn't MATTER what people think about me because of it! And besides, it was years ago, and things are different now -- "

"Are they? Are they different?"

"You know they are! Don't be like that! And things didn't have to be this way, Professor Lupin tried to explain to you what was happening, and if only you'd listened -- " Harry could tell by the murderous expression on Severus' face that he'd just made a big mistake. But it was true! If Severus had only listened back in third year, then Sirius wouldn't have had to be on the run all this time, and Severus wouldn't have to worry about looking like a fool now, and Pettigrew would have been captured and maybe Voldemort would never have risen again at all. Who knew what could have happened? Maybe all this could have been avoided --

Maybe nothing would have been the same. Maybe they wouldn't be here now. Maybe they would never have even touched each other. Harry swallowed thickly, and hated himself a little bit, that he didn't want to change this, didn't want to change anything that had brought him here, even when he was as furious as he was now.

"He's my godfather," he said. "And I know you hate him, but he wasn't working for Voldemort," he didn't dare say Sirius was 'innocent,' "and what was I supposed to do when I knew I could stop it? You were going to let him get the Dementor's bloody KISS -- " And Harry had passed out, surrounded by the cold of those things, about to be swallowed into nothingness, and even now the memory still made him shake with fear --

"Your godfather," Severus spat, finally getting out of his chair, his face going that hideous brick-red colour, features twisting in hatred. "Your sodding godfather. What beautiful loyalty. How touching. And what's he ever done for you?" His voice was rising to a nearly hysterical pitch again. "Where has he been, when you've been in danger? Picking his fleas? Starving in a cave? How has he protected you? When has he stuck his neck out for you? What's he ever done, for God's sake, that he deserves this shining, stupid regard of yours, besides, of course, being a friend of your shining, stupid, sainted father? Where was HE when you needed him?!"

"That's not his fault!" Harry yelled. "He couldn't be here because he had to hide, and he had to hide because of you! He would have been here! I know he would have! And don't you dare talk about my dad!"

Severus had gone from red to purple. "Why not?" he screamed. "Why the hell not? You never even knew your bloody father! Just like you don't even know Sirius bloody Black! And look at you, Potter, just look at you, ready to fall at Black's feet like all the rest of them and call him a hero! What do you know? What do you know about real loyalty, real sacrifice, real -- " he cut himself off suddenly, making a choking noise.

"Don't even start with that," Harry shouted. "I was there, remember? In the Shack? I heard everything you said that night! This isn't about loyalty for you! 'Vengeance is very sweet,' that's what you said! You just wanted to kill him for something he did when he was a kid!"

"People don't change!" Severus roared. His hands were clutching at the back of his chair now, knuckles white, as if to prevent him from leaping over and strangling Harry. "You mark my words, Potter! Once a murderer always a murderer, he's stupid, and he's vicious, and he's careless, and you won't be SAFE with him -- "

"Then I won't be safe with YOU!"

Silence dropped into the room like a ton of bricks. Severus stared at Harry, wide-eyed, his face going from red to white. Harry swallowed hard, feeling tears pricking at his eyes, though he didn't know whether they were from anger or…something else. He wasn't going to cry, though. He wasn't. He had to make his point or it was all over. "You changed!" he said, hearing the pleading in his voice. "You joined Voldemort, and then you left! I don't know why, or what happened, but you did it, and Dumbledore understood and gave you a second chance, and it's not THAT different, is it? Please…please, I don't…" he sagged, and stared down at the floor, rubbing his hand over his forehead, feeling the raised smoothness of his scar under his fingertips. "I can't…"

Severus didn't say anything, and Harry didn't dare look up, but squeezed his eyes shut. At some point he'd started to shake, and couldn't stop. Severus was right…he should have left…maybe if he had, he wouldn't be standing here feeling like he'd just cut out his own heart with a paring knife…

"It's you who doesn't understand," he whispered. There was no reply. He continued, voice still low and pained, "I've never been here because of Sirius. He's never even been a part of …don't you see? This doesn't change anything -- "

"You are a fool," Severus rasped, and Harry looked up, only to see that Severus had his back to him and was looking into the fire again. "You're a complete fool. It changes everything." He turned to look back at Harry, his face haggard. "Just one more person to hide the dirty little secret from," he said. "Wouldn't he be proud if he knew? Wouldn't he be thrilled, your perfect godfather? If he knew these -- " Severus held out his yellow, long-fingered hands, palms up, " -- had ever touched you?"

"I -- I don't care what he thinks," Harry snapped, feeling the lie squirm around in his stomach. "You're right. It's just one more person we have to hide it from. It's not their business, what we -- what we do. It has to be just us. We agreed…you said so…"

Severus slowly sank back down into his chair, and although it was hard to tell through his robes, Harry thought he was shaking a little too. "So I did," he said dully. "For God's sake, Potter, get the hell out of my rooms."

Harry's stomach hurt. Somehow he felt worse than he had when they'd been shouting -- he wasn't sure what he'd done, but it was as if all the fight had suddenly got knocked out of Severus. Harry had never wanted to tell him he loved him so much as he did right then.

"Please don't make me go," he said instead.

"Harry," Severus said quietly, "go. Just," he held up a hand to forestall Harry's protests, "go, and…think. Use what passes for your brain, for once, and perhaps the next time we speak you will have some vague idea of why having Sirius Black on the loose will not make things easier for us."

"But we will talk?" Harry asked, hearing the panic in his own voice. You promised you wouldn't leave again, you promised…

"If you wish," Severus said, leaning his head back and resting it against the chair, his eyes falling shut. He didn't look relaxed so much as exhausted, defeated.

Misery still choked Harry. He shifted from one foot to the other. "Erm…okay," he said. "But…I just…I only came in here to say I -- "

"I think you've said everything you had to say," Severus said sharply, though he didn't open his eyes. "Now go."

Harry went.

He wandered around for a few minutes in a daze, safely hidden under his cloak, his mind spinning. He was far too worked up to even think about going back to the dormitory and trying to sleep; best be the library, then, unless he wanted to chance running into Filch by meandering through the halls. His feet dragged him there, his heart feeling twice as heavy as usual in his chest, and when he arrived he spent a moment staring down the rows and stacks of books before shaking himself out of his stupor.

He dragged down the restricted tome he'd been studying during his past several visits -- a book on blood magic -- but he couldn't seem to concentrate, even though it was fascinating stuff. His mind kept going back to Severus' injunction to think about what Sirius' freedom meant for them both, even though he didn't want to believe it meant anything terrible, even though he wanted to believe things could go on as before, even though he refused to stop being glad for Sirius.

Was that what Dumbledore had really meant when he'd told Harry to think about the consequences?

Harry tried to picture Sirius' face on being told that he, Harry, was having an affair with Snape. That Snape had been his first kiss when he was only fifteen, his first lover when he was sixteen, that they'd rolled around on the floor together at Christmas, that Harry loved him. Well, of course Sirius would be upset, of course he couldn't know. And neither could Ron, or Hermione, or anybody else. Harry wasn't stupid…

How long could they possibly keep this up?

Harry stared blankly at the page as the question suddenly popped into his mind. How long could this last -- how long could you really keep a secret? At what point could you stop separating one person you loved from all the other people you loved, when could you tell, when could you explain?

Well, not while Harry was in school, of course. Nobody could know. So it was a moot point, really. No point in wishing.

What about after he got out of school, though?

Why hadn't he ever thought about that before?

The runes on the page before him were all starting to run into each other as he thought about it now. He had just a little over a year left at Hogwarts. It seemed like a long time right now, but time at Hogwarts always seemed to fly by, somehow. Before he knew it, he'd be leaving school as a full-fledged wizard. And Severus…presumably…would have to stay here. Where he was safe. Where the Ministry demanded he remain.

Would they tell people then? Would they have to wait a little longer, and then pretend like it had only recently happened, act as if they hadn't been together for two years of Harry's school career -- or more, if you counted it from the first kiss? There were so many questions. Too many. Could Severus still get in trouble then? Would they still be together then? How long was this crazy, secret, shadowy relationship even going to last -- how long till he finally lost --

Something jolted in his brain.

Harry abruptly straightened up and shut the book, wandered to put it back on the shelf as if in a dream, and then continued out of the library, heart pounding so hard he thought it would explode, mouth as dry as sand.

This time, Severus' door opened when he scratched at it. The office was dark. So was the sitting-room, and the bedroom after that. No fire burned in the grate; the only light came from a candle on the bedside table. Severus was in bed, facing the wall away from Harry. He didn't turn around, or lift his head, or give any indication that he was awake, but Harry knew he was.

Harry dropped the cloak, kicked off his shoes, crawled under the blankets, and wrapped his shivering form around Severus'. "Please, I want to stay," he whispered at the back of Severus' head, sliding an arm around his lover's waist. "I'll stay -- I'll still be here -- whatever happens, I'm…I won't do anything because of him or anybody else, this is me, I'll stay, I want to be here." With you. With you. With you.

There was a slight stir from his bedfellow, and a thin, cold hand moved to clutch at his own where it lay across Severus' chest.

"Oh," Harry breathed, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips to the rise of shoulder in front of him, then to the nape of the neck, feeling strands of hair tickling his lips. "I'm here," he murmured against the skin, Severus' skin. "I'm here, I want to stay."

Sirius' freedom might change everything else, but it wouldn't change that.

Severus didn't move, but his voice, whispered, broke the darkness.

"Then stay."

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