Title: The Swing
Author: Anders Svartalfurinn
Beta: Thank you, rakina, for the awesome beta job!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Word Count: ~ 21,000
Summary: Severus is waiting for his friend to return to the playground, Harry wants to find out everything about Lily, and the Healers at St. Mungo's are at a loss to explain Snape's condition.
Warnings: Highlight, if you wish to know: *Harry is eighteen when they have sex, Snape thirty-eight. Underage sex (fifteen and sixteen) is only in their imagination.*
Author's notes: Written for glee at merry_smutmas. Thank you for your great prompt! It was truly inspiring. And thank you, gmth, for doing Smutmas one last time. Being part of fandom's greatest fest has been a wonderful experience. Thank you for your dedication and your hard work!


The Swing

An unrelenting wind whirled through the leaves on the ground, howled over the rooftops and blew apart the smoke that a huge factory chimney belched into the sky. The black fumes didn't stand a chance. A masterful spinner, the wind twisted them into threads of air, thin wisps that soon became part of the clouds. The sky was a blanket, intricately woven in all shades of grey, hanging low over the town and threatening to tear apart.

The boy on the swing braved the cold and the wind. Up and down, up and down he swung, higher and higher. Ground, rooftops, chimney - the world dissolved into patterns of grey, mere threads, indistinguishable from another. He closed his eyes.

His name was Severus, that much he knew. His mum had told him to be back home before it started to rain. His dad had threatened him with a good thrashing if he ruined his clothes again. It wasn't fear of his dad's wrath that kept him out here today. He wasn't a coward. His mum was a witch, and he was a wizard, half a Prince. He didn't care for his stupid Muggle dad.

Severus opened his eyes. Ground, rooftops, chimney - higher and higher. A wizard and not a coward, he jumped.

He was flying. Like a pair of wings, his too large coat kept him airborne for a couple of seconds. He flapped through the air, laughing; and unlike the leaves, he wasn't at the mercy of the wind. With a movement of his arms, he landed next to the line of swings. His feet got caught up in the hem of his coat, and he fell to the ground.

As if to mock him, the empty swings rocked back and forth, their chains creaking and groaning. His coat was torn at the seam, and he wished he owned a wand and knew how to repair it. Getting up to his feet, Severus glared at the swings, and they started to move faster. He remembered now why he was here. He was waiting for his friend. He'd forgotten who his friend was, and he didn't know when they had said they would meet again, but he was sure that his friend would return to the playground. He decided to wait a little longer. A fat raindrop splashed on his head.

*

Harry laughed. The swing pushed him higher and higher. Like an excited baby dragon, a factory chimney puffed white clouds into the sky. His mum was swinging at his side, but before Harry could reach her, the swing pulled him back. The bushes surrounding the playground were in full bloom, and the grass was green. The sunlight, reflected on the rooftops, made Harry blink. He was pushed higher again.

At his side, Lily shouted with glee. She let go of the swing, flying higher still, soaring through the air and landing lightly on her feet. Harry didn't pay attention to Petunia's scolding or to the bushes where he knew Snape was hiding. His eyes were fixed on Lily, following her every move. He watched her pick up a wilted flower, turn it into a bud and make it bloom again. Rocking gently back and forth, his feet planted on the ground, Harry watched the little drama unfold, watched his mum leave the playground in Petunia's wake. When she was out of sight, he pushed off the ground once more, not minding the crestfallen boy who clambered on the swing beside him.

Higher and higher - green grass, sunlit rooftops, the puffing chimney. Harry waited for the scene to dissolve, when suddenly, he noticed a disturbance in the sky. It wasn't the usual maelstrom that indicated the transition from one memory to another. The sky bulged like a blanket spread over a moving body. It quivered, and the bulge became larger. A freckled nose broke through the sky, a red mouth and the tip of a chin.

"Harry," Ginny's voice shouted, "get out of there!"

Harry had to cling to the swing chains so as not to get blown away by the heavy storm that had come up with Ginny's intrusion. He waited until her face was gone and the storm had ceased. Then he jumped out of the Pensieve and landed clumsily in Ron's bedroom where Ginny was waiting.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I thought you'd want to know," Ginny said, her eyes fixed where Harry's hands fumbled with his shirt.

Self-consciously, Harry tucked his shirt back into his jeans. "What?" he said.

"They found Snape."

*

St. Mungo's was as crowded as ever. When Harry entered the reception area, an old witch who sprouted a shock of green tentacles on her head shouted, "The Boy Who Lived Twice," and thunderous applause broke loose. Harry was glad that Healer Smethwyck was already waiting at the information desk and hurried to follow the mediwizard to his quiet office, several corridors away from the uproar of the entrance hall.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you," the Healer said, indicating a chair in front of his desk.

"You've earned it, you know," he continued with a jovial smile that lit up his affable, slightly pudgy face, "all that attention. The whole wizarding world loves you. Why don't you enjoy it?"

Harry shook his head and took the offered seat. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm here to see one of your patients, Severus Snape. How is he?"

Smethwyck's face became serious. "The patient's a mystery to me, to be honest. Auror Shacklebolt told me that you witnessed the events leading to his current condition?"

"I saw him dying, yes. I mean, I thought he was dead. When I returned to the Shrieking Shack later, his body was gone. How could he survive a snake bite like that?"

"We found not one, but two bezoars in his throat and stomach, and he ingested more antivenins than our potions expert has ever heard of. He must have been brilliant in his area of expertise. If he ever makes a full recovery, I'll see to it that St. Mungo's offers him a position as a potion maker."

"He's still in danger, then?"

Smethwyck, who'd been smiling admiringly when praising Snape's skills, furrowed his brow. "He's out of danger to his life," he said, but his frown deepened. "He was lucky to be still alive when he was found. Auror Shacklebolt wouldn't tell me any details, though I suppose you know all about his rescue?"

Harry drummed impatiently with his fingers. "He had a Portkey on his person that transported him to his childhood home. It took the Aurors three days to break through the wards, or else he could've been brought here sooner. What's wrong with him?"

The Healer's face wasn't made to show too many conflicting emotions, and it turned blank. Smethwyck now resembled a children's book's illustration of the full moon. "The patient's condition doesn't make sense to me," he said. "His body is completely healed. There will be no long term damage from the snake venom or the heavy blood loss."

"That's good," Harry said, nervously watching Smethwyck's expressionless face.

Smethwyck nodded vigorously. "It is. I can't stress it enough. As for the state of his mind - I'm not an expert, but even Healer Strout is at a loss here."

"The state of his mind? He isn't mad, is he?"

"We don't use that word," the Healer said, "and I can't tell you what he is. I've seen victims of the Cruciatus curse, and they were saner and more responsive than he is. A person subjected to the Dementor's Kiss still babbles nonsense, shows signs of life. Professor Snape is nothing like that."

"What is he like?" Harry asked, rubbing his hands along the arms of his chair.

"I never had to face Inferi, thank Merlin, but Severus Snape is exactly what I imagine an Inferius to be. He's like a dead man, a breathing corpse."

"Can I see him?"

The Healer nodded, and Harry jumped to his feet.

*

Snape was sitting with his back to the door. Only the greasy strands of hair that hung over the back of his chair gave away his identity. The chair faced a tiny window, and it was as if Snape were watching the sunset outside, a blazing fire over the city.

"The nurses always turn him around," Smethwyck said in an unnaturally low voice. "They can't bear his stare."

"Perfectly understandable." Harry tried to sound cheerful, but his voice came out shrill, like glass exploding against the empty walls of the room.

"Let me turn him back for you," Smethwyck whispered and stepped into the cubicle.

"Wait." Harry touched Smethwyck's round shoulders to hold him back. "I can manage."

Cautiously, they circumnavigated each other. The space was so small that Harry had to climb over the bed to get to the window. He crouched in front of Snape and took Snape's hand in his. It was warm and alive. Snape looked odd in a white hospital gown and even more sallow than usual. His eyes were wide open, and Harry could see the orange sun mirrored in them. Harry blinked.

"Professor," he said, "it's so good to see you alive."

The silence was broken only by muffled sounds from the adjoining ward, the shuffling of steps and the closing of a door. Snape stared out of the window with empty eyes.

"I wish you could hear me," Harry said. "There's so much I want to talk to you about."

Harry rose from his crouched position on the floor and leaned against the window, shutting out the bleeding sky. Snape's eyes were a black void. "I want to thank you. Thank you for always keeping me safe."

Snape didn't move or blink. Only his regular pulse gave away that he was alive.

"I hope that some time we can talk about my mum, about Lily. Maybe we can become sort of ... friends." At a loss for words, Harry pressed Snape's hand. Snape's eyes were fathomless, dark tunnels with no end in sight. There were many doors, each different from the other. They led into empty rooms, into vast spaces that contained nothing at all, and whenever Harry approached one of them, it shut with a loud bang. Further down the tunnel, through a huge black door that was decorated with rusty barbwire, Harry got a glimpse of red eyes in a snake-like face. Behind a door with peeling white paint and a broken window, Harry saw a couple fighting. Still further down, a door in all colours of the rainbow flapped excitedly when he came near, as if to beckon him to step through. Outside, the rain was pouring down in torrents. It was so dark that Harry could hardly see. After some moments, he recognised the playground from Snape's memories. The boy on the swing - Snape - waved enthusiastically, jumped down and moved closer to Harry. With his hair and coat soaked through and dripping, he looked even more grotesque than in the Pensieve.

"Are you my friend?" he asked, cocking his head and blinking raindrops from his eyes.

Harry shook his head, and then he was back in the hospital room, Snape's unblinking eyes before him.

"Of course," Harry said to the Healer who was waiting at the entrance to the cubicle. "I think I know what's wrong with him. It's the loss of his memories."

*

It was raining in earnest now, and Severus cursed the fact that he hadn't gone home a long time ago. He knew many swear words, ordinary ones like bloody, fuck and shit that both his parents used all the time, and special ones like Merlin's balls that his mum only dared using when his dad was at the pub.

"Merlin's bloody shit," he repeated when he examined the seam of his coat once more. There was nothing for it - his dad would use his belt on him now and send him to his room without supper. His mum would take the leftovers up to him later. She would have that hopeless look in her eyes that was so much worse than all his dad's punishments.

"I'm sorry, mum, I'm sorry," he said, sitting down on one of the swings and pushing off the ground. He had to close his eyes against the wind and the rain. When he opened them again, he saw a blurry figure under the chestnut tree next to the sandpit. He should have trusted his friend not to leave him alone in his misery. Waving hello, Severus jumped off the swing. The figure was a boy, his age or maybe a little bit younger. He was wearing glasses, and his black hair was a wild mess. If Severus ever wore his hair like that, both his parents would punish him.

It was silly to ask, but Severus wanted to be sure before trusting the boy. "Are you my friend?" he said.

The boy shook his head and ran away. This time when Severus cursed, he heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

*

The following day, Harry Flooed directly into Healer Smethwyck's office. Smethwyck introduced him to Olive Hornby, St. Mungo's expert for Legilimency and Occlumency.

"It's an extraordinary case," Hornby said. She was an elderly witch with a dark complexion and grey hair, pulled back in a strict bun. "The patient is a master Occlumens. He must have Occluded his mind before he fell into his current state. A steel wall was all I encountered when I used Legilimency on him. Fascinating."

"That's odd," Harry said. "Yesterday, I looked into his eyes, and it was like Legilimency. I saw the Professor as a boy, in surroundings I knew from the memories he gave me before he ... when I last saw him at the Shrieking Shack. But he was all alone, and the weather was dreadful. Everything was grey. He asked me if I was his friend, and I think that he was mistaking me for my mother, Lily, his childhood friend."

Both Healers watched Harry with avid interest. A smile flashed across Smethwyck's full moon face, and Hornby's dark eyes glittered. "Fascinating indeed," she said. "What you saw wasn't a simple memory, or else you wouldn't have been able to communicate with the patient - or better, with a manifestation of the patient's subconscious."

"Subconscious?" Smethwyck asked. "Isn't that a Muggle theory?" He frowned.

"Muggles have intriguing concepts of the psyche, the mind. It's a new field to us, and it only makes sense to learn from their experience."

A black cloud darkened Smethwyck's features. "Nonsense," he said. "My former assistant had just the same ridiculous notions. He nearly killed a patient that way."

Hornby held up a hand. "We know all about poor Pye's endeavours. You tell us often enough. But we shouldn't discuss this here and now.

"Mr. Potter, your connection with Professor Snape must be a very close one, that he recognises you even in his current state and allows you into his mind."

"I told you, I think he mistook me for my mother."

Both Healers smiled now, even if Smethwyck's smile seemed forced.

"Can't we simply give him his memories back, and he'll be all right?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it," Smethwyck said. "It's not an uncommon practice for a witch or a wizard to extract memories. I've never heard of any complications from doing so."

"You forget the exceptional circumstances, my dear colleague," Hornby said. "If a person loses too many of their memories while suffering severe physical injury, it might lead to a condition like that of Professor Snape. We can't know. There was never a case like that."

She turned to Harry, showing brilliant white teeth. She must have been an intimidating beauty when she was young. "Absorbing memories is a conscious process. Their owner must welcome them back actively. I don't know if the patient is capable of doing that. We can try it, but I can't promise success."

*

Snape was facing the door this time, greeting his visitors with his empty stare. "Hello Professor," Harry said, "glad to see me again?"

He unstoppered the flask with Snape's memories and took Snape's hand. "I took good care of them. Thank you for giving them to me. I bet you'll be glad to see her again."

Snape's pulse was regular, his eyes wide open. The silver memories lay over his head, thick like morning fog over the Hogwarts Lake on cold autumn days. "Don't you want her back?" Harry said. "I wished I could have known her like that."

Harry didn't know how much time had passed when Healer Hornby gently touched his shoulder. "It didn't work. He's too far gone to accept them."

The memories were already starting to dissolve at the edges. Afraid to lose them, Harry quickly put them back into the flask. "What can we do now?" he asked.

"There's nothing we can do," Healer Smethwyck said.

"Why don't you try to contact him again, Mr. Potter?" Healer Hornby said.

It was hard to concentrate with the Healers watching, and Harry wondered how Snape's eyes could be that black, and if he had irises at all or only over-large pupils, black holes that sucked Harry in.

He was in the tunnel again, only this time, all the doors were closed. Harry rushed along, looking for the entrance to the playground. The way seemed longer this time, steeper and more winding. When Harry finally reached the multicoloured door, he found that it was closed, too. Harry tried the handle, but the door was locked. It wouldn't open, no matter how much he pulled and yanked. "Let me in," he shouted, "let me in. It's me, your friend."

The door opened a crack, just wide enough for Harry to slip through. A thunderstorm was raging on the other side. Crashes of thunder and pounding rain forced Harry backwards, but when he reached for the door, it was gone. A flash of lightning illuminated the playground, and Harry could see Snape standing right before him under a big tree.

"You aren't my friend," Snape said between two claps of thunder. "Friends don't run away."

"I'm sorry about that. I had to go. There was something I had forgotten to do. But I'm here now."

It was eerie how much like his older self boy-Snape looked when raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that you don't have better things to do on such a lovely afternoon than being out here with me?" he said, and a bolt of lightning punctuated his words.

Harry grinned. "We could go somewhere else," he said. "Don't you know a place a little drier?"

"Come on then," Snape said, and Harry followed him, splashing through puddles, wet grass and mud. When they reached a bus stop shelter two blocks away, the storm had ceased and the rain had turned into a mere drizzle.

"What's your name?" Snape asked, shaking his head like a wet dog.

"Harry. Harry P ... Harry Evans."

"Nice to meet you, Harry Evans. I'm Severus. My father's name is Snape, but my mother was a Prince." They shook hands, and Harry had to suppress a smile when he saw the serious expression in Snape's thin face.

"Are you a wizard?" Snape continued to question Harry.

Harry nodded.

"I thought so."

"How could you possibly know? Wizards and witches don't look any different from Muggles."

"Dunno." Snape shrugged his shoulders. "But I've been right."

He grinned. "It's odd though, I've never heard of other magic folk around here."

"My parents are from Godric's Hollow. They're dead."

"I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Hey, you're sodding wet," he said, trying to avoid another shower of drops from Snape's hair.

"Sodding wet yourself," Snape said, but he stopped behaving like a rain-soaked animal.

They stood like that, shivering from the cold and at a loss for what to do or say, for long moments. Snape finally broke the silence, rubbing his arms. "It's too stupid that we can't have a wand."

"Wait," Harry said. He should have thought of a hot air charm sooner. When he reached for his wand, he only encountered his bare arm, though. Looking down at himself, he noticed that he was much smaller, and that his clothes weren't his own. He was wearing a shirt with bright orange flowers on it, a corduroy jacket, and his jeans were flared. The face that looked back at him from the glass pane at the bus stop was that of a child.

"Merlin's balls," he said. He must have looked like an idiot if Snape's broad grin was anything to go by. "I have to go now. Want to meet again?"

"Sure," Snape said. "Where are you staying, anyway?"

"With my Muggle relatives," Harry answered. "Tomorrow? Same place, same time?"

They nodded at each other, and Harry was back in the tiny cubicle at St. Mungo's. Snape in his chair looked as bleak as his surroundings, and Harry came to a quick decision. "I'm taking him with me," he said to the Healers. Their smiles never wavered.

*

"You know, Professor, it wasn't easy to get you out of there. Healer Hornby wanted to keep you at St. Mungo's for her studies. She even asked for permission to use Legilimency on me to view my memories of your subconscious. The Aurors didn't want to let you go, either. They said they had to investigate your role in the war more thoroughly before you could be allowed to leave their custody. I had to use all my influence as The Boy Who Lived Twice. It was horrible, I can tell you, though you'd probably accuse me of enjoying my celebrity status. Still, I hope you appreciate it."

Harry looked at the silent man before him. Snape was sitting in a comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace in the library at Grimmauld Place. The white hospital gown was gone, and he was wearing black robes that resembled his old attire. Buttoning Snape's cuffs, Harry continued talking to his quiet guest.

"You prefer your robes to be dark and austere, don't you, Professor? They're less elegant than those you were wearing at school, but honestly, you look great. You see, they can't be that tight-fitting because they have to allow easy access to your body for me to take care of you. That's also the reason why you can't have underwear. But don't worry, sir, the nurses taught me everything. They said I was a natural. They instructed me to use a moistening charm on your eyes every full hour. Does it feel good?"

Harry waved his wand and watched a film of moisture coating Snape's eyes. Glittering in the light of the fireplace, they looked alive and menacing.

"Don't glare at me like that," Harry said. "I promise to take good care of you. I'll cater to your every need, and I'll see to it that you're ready to accept your memories back soon. You'll be your old self again in no time at all. I promise."

Taking Snape's hand in his - the pulse steady and reassuring - Harry focused on Snape's eyes.

"I hope we'll be able to talk then," he said. "And now please excuse me, I believe I have an appointment with your younger self."

*

Severus was content. He was lying on a wooden bench next to the sandpit, and the sun was shining on his full belly. When Severus had come home the day before, his dad had been at the pub. His mum hadn't been upset at all. She'd taught him a charm to repair all kind of things and shown him how to spell his clothes dry and clean. Later, they had brewed a potion together. That she'd burnt their supper hadn't mattered a bit. It had been fun to make it vanish and to Accio fresh eggs from the neighbours' backyard. His mum had laughed. She'd made Severus promise not to tell his dad - as if he'd ever do that. This morning, his dad had been still asleep when Severus had got up, and his mum had made sandwiches for him and his friend.

Letting his arm dangle off the bench, Severus felt the still-wet sand under his fingers. Twigs and small branches - debris from the storm - were scattered everywhere. Severus took a branch the length of a wand and removed its leaves. "Accio fag," he said, pointing it at a heap of cigarette stubs under the next bench.

"Hey there. Don't hex me." Harry was standing under the chestnut tree, grinning, his hair as unruly as ever.

"Hey." Severus sat up on the bench. "Want to play duelling?" he asked, picking up another stick and throwing it to Harry.

They bowed at each other from opposite corners of the sandpit. Severus counted to three, and Harry shouted, "Tarantallegra."

Severus did his best to shake his legs in an imitation of a wild dance. He never lost sight of Harry, though, who was doubling over with laughter. "Expelliarmus," Severus shouted, and after a short moment, Harry stopped laughing and threw away his stick.

"Crucio," Severus said, waiting for Harry to let himself fall down and twitch as if in agony. At first, Harry didn't react at all. Before Severus could explain the curse and apologise for assuming that Harry knew such advanced magic, though, Harry had lunged at him and wrestled him to the ground.

"Don't you ever do that again." Harry's face was red, and his green eyes flashed behind his glasses.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's just a game." Severus tried to push Harry off, but the small boy was stronger than he looked.

"The Cruciatus isn't a game."

"Merlin, what's wrong with you?" Severus was really annoyed now. He broke free from Harry's grip and retreated to his bench. "My mum does it to my dad all the time."

Harry was at his side immediately. "Your mum uses the Cruciatus on your dad?" he asked in an oddly high-pitched voice.

"Not in earnest, of course. She points a cooking spoon at him, or a whisk, and says it under her breath when he's eating or reading the paper. I asked her what it meant, and she demonstrated it on a rat." Remembering the rat's pain, its violent convulsions, Severus shivered. He could never do that to someone, least of all to his friend.

"I'm sorry," both boys said simultaneously.

"Whatever for?" Severus asked.

"Your parents. It must be horrible for you."

"It isn't too bad. My dad's at the pub most of the time. And my mum, she's a good person, really. And a great witch." Severus rummaged in his coat pocket. "She's made sandwiches for us. Want one?"

Harry nodded.

"Ham or cheese?"

*

Later that day, when Harry carried Snape upstairs, Kreacher popped up on the staircase in front of him. Harry - still not used to the house-elf's sudden appearances - was lucky not to fall backwards down the stairs, hurting Snape in the process.

"Allow Kreacher to help you, Master. Kreacher can carry the Professor for you."

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said. "I prefer to take care of Professor Snape personally. Please see to it that no one disturbs me whenever I am with my guest."

"Yes, Master. Is there nothing Kreacher can do for you?" the house-elf said, his ears flopping down.

"You could prepare one of your fantastic sandwiches. Ham and cheese would be great. Do we still have some of those pickles we had for lunch yesterday?"

Kreacher nodded and popped out of sight. Seconds later, Harry could hear him rummaging in the kitchen.

*

When Harry returned to the playground, Snape was sitting on one of the swings, rocking gently back and forth. Harry walked along the hedges to join him, picking up a wilted flower on his way. They grinned at each other.

"What I always wanted to ask you, Snape," Harry said, "do you perhaps -"

"Don't call me that," Snape said, and a crease appeared between his eyes.

"What?"

"Snape. It's my dad's name. My mum's -"

"- a Prince, I know. What do you want me to call you? Half-blood Prince?"

Snape's face turned dark red. He gave a little bow with his head, then, haughtily like a real prince, and said, "I allow you to call me Severus."

"Thank you for the privilege," Harry said, answering Severus's bow, and they broke out into laughter. Snape - Severus - pushed off the ground, and Harry soon followed. They swung side by side for a while, up and down, up and down.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"I wonder if you know a girl -"

"Don't know any girls."

"- with red hair."

"A Muggle?"

"A witch."

"My mum's the only witch here."

"She's Muggle-born."

"A Mudblood?"

Harry brought his swing to an abrupt halt. "Don't call her that," he shouted furiously.

"Whom?" Severus dragged his feet on the ground until his swing came to a stop, too. His face was flushed, but he looked more confused than angry.

"Forget it," Harry said. "It's just, I hate that word. It's rude. Mean." He turned away from Severus, and his eyes fell on the flower in his hand, crushed and dying. Harry placed it in his palm like he remembered Lily doing and concentrated hard. Nothing happened. He was about to throw it away, mad at himself for being such a pathetic fool, when he heard Severus gasp.

"Wow," Severus said, "you've got loads of magic. You'll be a really great wizard some day."

Harry followed Severus's eyes. There in Harry's palm sat a perfect bud. They watched it unfolding its petals one by one, growing into a beautiful flower.

"My Prince," Harry said and offered Severus the blossom.

Severus, who had turned yet another shade of red, took it and put it in one of the buttonholes of his huge coat. With an odd little smile he said, "Thank you."

*

"I'd never have thought it possible, Professor," Harry said, covering Snape with a blanket and tucking him in, "but I like you. I mean, I like Severus. He's got a lot of issues, but he's still fun to be with. I'm sure you had a great time together, you and my mum."

Snape stared at the ceiling. Harry performed a moistening charm on Snape's eyes and covered them with small cloths that were soaked through with a potion to keep them humid over night.

"That's all, I think." Harry waved his wand and the room went dark.

"Good night, sir."

*

That night, Severus dreamed of Harry. It was a strange dream, and he didn't remember it in the morning, but as soon as he got up, he went to his mum and asked her to put a stasis charm on the flower Harry had given him. Then he put it on his bedside table.

*

Feeding Snape was the most difficult of Harry's new duties. Harry had learned a spell that stimulated the swallowing reflex and another that closed the voice box and stopped the patient's breathing to prevent food or liquid from entering the lungs. Opening Snape's mouth, putting food or water in the right position in its back, performing the closing of the voice box spell, the swallowing spell and a quick Finite Incantatem to prevent Snape from suffocating - all this needed a lot of coordination skills and took more than an hour, three times a day. Harry was glad that eventually, he got into a routine.

One morning during Snape's mealtime, Harry heard loud voices from the hallway and Kreacher popped up next to him. "Finite Incantatem," Harry shouted, panicking, and Snape, already blue in the face, spat porridge all over him.

"Bloody hell," Harry said and looked at his patient, but Snape was sitting stock still again, a lifeless puppet with porridge trickling down its chin.

"What?" Harry barked at Kreacher, and the house-elf started to bang his forehead against the wall in a steady rhythm.

"No, Kreacher, no. I order you to stop."

The banging ceased, and Kreacher looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes. "Kreacher is sorry, Master, for disturbing you, but Master's friends are here, and they insisted that Kreacher must go and fetch you."

"Where are they?"

"Kreacher locked them in the pantry."

Harry sighed. "Release them and offer them tea. I'll be with you in about five minutes."

Kreacher bowed and disappeared.

*

"Harry. It's so good to see you." The moment he entered the kitchen, Harry found himself in a bone-crushing hug with Hermione's bushy hair tickling his nose.

"How are you, mate?" Ron clapped him on the back, and all three of them nearly fell over a chair.

"Hi. It's good to see you, too." Harry managed to free himself and grinned at his friends.

"Hard to believe, judging from how your house-elf treated us," Ron said, but he grinned too.

"Sorry about that. I told Kreacher I didn't want to be disturbed."

"What's that?" Hermione cried out, pointing at a slimy spot on her blouse.

Harry noticed a corresponding spot on his own shirt. "It's only porridge," he said, and Hermione's scouring charm washed over him.

"So what have you been up to?" Ron asked. "One day you're at the Burrow to stay over the holidays, next day you're gone. What's all this Snape business you're going on about in your letter? And why do you have to stay at Grimmauld Place because of him?"

"I didn't think you wanted to share your bedroom with Snape."

Ron choked on his tea. "What?"

"Does that mean that Professor Snape's here with you?" Hermione asked.

"Yep," Harry said. "Biscuits, anyone? You must try the shortbread. Kreacher's a brilliant baker. What's wrong? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're living with Snape?" Ron's eyes were huge like saucers, his face slack.

"Don't forget what the Professor did for Harry during the war, and how he saved his life countless times," Hermione said.

"There's not much evidence of that, other than those memories that Harry never allowed us to see."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said. "They're of Harry's mum. Don't you understand that it's a personal matter between Professor Snape and Harry?"

"I'm sorry, mate. So that's why you were taking Dumbledore's old Pensieve around with you all the time?"

Harry nodded. "McGonagall lent it to me when we left for the Burrow."

"That's wonderful, Harry." Hermione smiled. "How's Professor Snape? How do you two get along? Have you been able to talk things out?"

"He's not exactly his old self. Sometimes he spits food at me, but other than that we get along just fine."

Hermione's eyes moved from her blouse to Harry's shirt. "Don't you think he'd be better off at St. Mungo's?" she said.

"Absolutely not. The Healers can't help him, and everything is so bleak and horrible there."

"I see," Hermione said, "regardless of the fact that you can't help him, either. What are you planning to do with him when we return to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, mate. Going to take a salivating Snape with you? I'm sure the greasy git will be loads of fun. I always wanted to make him wear pigtails with pink bows."

"Ron," Harry and Hermione chided simultaneously.

"I won't return to Hogwarts," Harry said.

"What about your NEWTs, Harry? You'll need them to get into Auror training or for any other decent job."

"And the Quidditch team? You can't let us down now that we can play again. We could be brilliant this year."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He looked at the familiar faces before him and knew that this was the parting of the ways that he'd always feared. Whatever the future might hold for them, they would always be best friends, but they'd never be the golden trio again.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "Ron, the Quidditch team will be brilliant this year, and you'll become Hogwarts' most successful Keeper in ages. I'm sure they'll make you captain.

"Hermione, I trust you to shine for us all. You're the cleverest witch of your age, don't forget that. As far as I am concerned, I'm certain that I can take my NEWTs another time. If I take them at all. I don't know yet what I want to do with my life. The only thing I know is that I have to take care of Snape. I owe him that much and more. And then there's my mum. He knew her better than any other person alive."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, and Ron nodded. "Good luck, mate. You'll need it."

They hugged for a long time.

*

Time passed differently in Severus's world. It had been autumn when Harry and Severus first met, and now it was summer again. Severus's nose had grown at least half an inch, making his face look even thinner, and Harry's hands, still those of a child, were finally big enough to close around the swing posts.

"It's boring here," Severus said one day after winning yet another wizarding duel because Harry couldn't stop laughing at his crazy contortions. "Why don't we go down to the river?"

The black and foul-smelling river, used as an open sewer and rubbish dump and avoided by most, was a wild and exciting place. Its overgrown banks were ideal for all kind of games, a perfect adventure playground. On their first visit, Severus and Harry found many treasures among the debris that was strewn everywhere. Tyres, fence posts, car parts, broken furniture, plastic film, muddy carpets and an entire door - they collected it all. Within a week, they had built a little hut in the undergrowth. It was perfectly hidden from view, and even if passers-by were to accidentally spot it, they would take it for just another heap of rubbish. Severus loved it there. He called it Sanctuary and pretended to hide it under a Fidelius Charm with Harry as their Secret Keeper.

Their favourite game was witch-hunt, and Harry didn't know what he liked better - being the wizard who was burnt at the stake, or the hocussed Muggle executioner who had to act as if he didn't notice the disappearance of his victim. When they played Auror and Dark Wizard, Harry took great care that Severus was always the Auror. Severus would frown and accuse Harry of wanting to have all the fun for himself, but in the end he would unfailingly give in, smiling his odd little smile.

The sun was burning hot from a cloudless sky when Harry returned to their hiding place on one of these days. Someone had dumped a ratty old sofa into the river, and Harry was hauling it ashore to pull it out of the water. Sweat was running down his face, and he cursed profoundly as the sofa fell back into the stream for the third time in a row. It didn't help his mood to hear Severus laugh behind him.

"Guess what I've got today."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. But you'd better come down here and help me with this monster."

When Severus didn't respond, Harry finally turned around. Severus stood motionless with a huge grin frozen in his face and his arms hanging down.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"You must've got it, too. Didn't you get it?" Severus sounded panicked.

Letting go of the sofa, Harry clambered up the bank. "What's wrong?" he repeated. "Got what?"

"Your Hogwarts letter," Severus said.

Harry pondered what to do. There was no reason why he shouldn't have got the letter; he was certainly the same age as Severus, here in the reality of Snape's mind. Just when he had decided that it would be best to pretend having received it, something poked him in the back. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a letter adorned with the Hogwarts seal.

"There," Harry said, waving the letter in front of Severus's face.

"That wasn't funny," Severus said with a frown. "Don't delude yourself that I fell for it. Not even for a second. Of course you'd get your letter; you've got so much magic."

Severus punched Harry playfully in the chest, and soon they were rolling around in the grass. "Ouch," Severus suddenly said, wincing.

"What's wrong with ..." Harry started, and then he noticed a red spot on Severus's smock.

"What the hell is this?" he asked. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Severus said.

"A very bloody nothing. Can I see?"

For a moment, it looked as if Severus was about to run away, but then he turned around and shrugged out of his smock. His entire back was covered with bruises and welts.

"No," Harry said. "No."

Shifting his position so that he was sitting next to Severus, who was hiding his face behind his hands now, Harry asked, "Who did this to you? Your dad?"

Severus nodded, putting his frock back on.

"But why?"

"He doesn't want his only son to go to a posh school. This is just a little reminder of my working class roots." Severus's voice sounded oddly like that of his grown up self, and his face showed no emotion at all.

Careful so as not to hurt his friend, Harry put an arm around his shoulders. "And your mum?"

"She's out working most of the time now. I could've visited her at her job and asked her to heal me, but I wanted to see you as soon as possible and tell you all about my letter."

Harry pulled Severus closer. "Hogwarts will be great," he said. "But you should go and get yourself healed now, or else we'll never get our new sofa."

Gently, an arm sneaked around Harry's shoulders. "We'll become great wizards," Severus said, "and we'll always be great friends."

*

Severus Snape was sitting in his usual chair in the Grimmauld Place library, a fog of memories hanging low over his head. Harry was kneeling on a footstool, following the lines of Snape's face with a finger.

"You know, Professor," he said, "I've never seen you laugh before I met you as Severus, the boy. Not even so much as smile."

Harry's finger traced Snape's thin lips and the sharp creases around their corners. "I wish you could smile for me now, even if it were just to mock me.

"Your life hasn't been easy as a child. Why is it that you were able to laugh then?"

Harry's exploring finger had reached Snape's nose. It rested on the tip for a moment, moving it up and down and from one side to the other.

"I'm going to tell you something really amusing, sir. I always loved your nose.

"Yes, you're right, it doesn't sound very believable. After all, we made fun of your beak all the time.

"Well, I suppose I worked it out only recently. Nevertheless, it's true."

Following up the bridge of Snape's nose, Harry's finger reached the crease between Snape's eyebrows. It swirled up the memory fog, and Harry withdrew it immediately. He took his wand and a little flask from the table nearby and guided Snape's memories back into their glass container.

"Why can't you accept them back?" Harry asked, gently touching Snape's forehead. "I know that you're there."

*

Severus tried very hard not to show how impressed he was by all the colours and the noise that was platform nine and three-quarters. Never before had he seen so many witches and wizards together in one place. Parents kissing their children goodbye, students hugging each other, those who'd already boarded the Hogwarts Express waving and shouting hellos from open train windows, cats meowing and owls hooting - it was a fabulous chaos. The only thing that worried Severus was that at five to eleven, Harry still hadn't turned up.

When he finally spotted Harry far away at the other end of the platform, Severus was oddly disappointed. Harry must've been there the whole time - since his arrival in fact, Severus hadn't lost sight of the magical barrier separating the wizarding platform from the Muggle station for more than a few seconds. He needn't look down at himself to be aware of his shabby appearance, of the way he stood out from the crowd like an ugly caterpillar among butterflies - a caterpillar that would never metamorphose into one of them. Harry was right to be ashamed of him now that he could find so much better-looking and more interesting company.

It was time to board the train. He should change into his student robes as soon as possible. Maybe Harry would still want to be his friend if Severus looked a bit more like his peers, even if his robes were second-hand. Severus turned to his mum. "Goodbye," he said and stretched out his hand.

His mum was a good person, and Severus loved her dearly. She wasn't a witch who showed her emotions easily, though. Severus could count on one hand the times she had laughed, her hugs on the other. "Never forget that you're a Prince," she said now. "Through generations, Princes have been worthy members of Slytherin house. You may find Quidditch Captains, Prefects, Head Girls and Boys among your ancestors."

"And a Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team," Severus said.

His mum smiled one of her rare smiles. "You'll find that Gobstones is much less popular than Quidditch, and that it's ridiculed by the majority of the students. It's a fine sport, though."

She pulled him into a loose hug. "I know that you'll continue the family tradition. Now go, Severus, go and be great." She released him abruptly and left the platform without looking back once. A whistle sounded. Severus shoved his trunk through the next carriage door and followed it onto the train.

*

When Harry arrived at platform nine and three-quarters and didn't see Severus, he went to look for Lily. For days now, since the arrival of the Hogwarts letter in his jeans pocket, Harry had wondered if he might encounter his mum at Hogwarts. Sure, Snape's most crucial memories of her were gone, imprisoned in glass and hidden in the drawer of Harry's bedside table, but there had to be more. Snape must have memories of Lily in class, during meals or at the library. Those everyday occurrences had to be imprinted on his mind, too. That Lily should be gone completely was implausible. If Harry could only find her and reconnect Snape to her, there must be a way to make Snape accept his memories back so that he might return to life in the real world.

Harry looked everywhere. He spotted his dad and the other Marauders, each of them with his own family, not friends yet. It was the first time that Harry saw his grandparents, and he lingered to watch them exchange affectionate goodbyes with James. They were much older than Harry had thought, and their white hair and wrinkles made Harry think that they looked more like his dad's grandparents than his own. They had beautiful faces, though, smiling and full of life. Harry turned away so as not to be noticed. Stumbling over his trunk, he heard a well-known peal of laughter, shrill and piercing. Walburga Black was just as horrible as her portrait, and Harry saw Kreacher carrying Sirius's trunk. An impossibly small Remus clung to his mum as if he never wanted to let her go. Averting his eyes from Peter, Harry clambered onto the train to see if Lily was already on board.

It wasn't much quieter on the train than outside, but everybody was leaning out of the windows and the seats were not taken yet. Shoving his trunk in the luggage rack of an empty compartment, Harry continued the search for his mum. Only when he'd made his way through the whole length of the train without so much as a glimpse of a red-headed girl Lily's age, he thought of Severus again. Just as he was about to jump back onto the platform to look for him, he heard a whistle blow and all hell broke loose.

It was impossible to find Severus in the ensuing havoc, and Harry had to wait nearly quarter of an hour until the chaos had died down again. He finally sighted Severus leaving a toilet, already clad in his uniform robes. "Hey," he shouted over the noise, waving. "Severus."

Severus remained where he was, pressed against the wall next to the toilet door, and only a slight twitching of his face betrayed that he'd noticed Harry.

Harry fought his way through a throng of students until he was right in front of Severus. "Hi," he said, but Severus still didn't react.

"Probably a good idea." Harry pointed at Severus's robes. "I should change out of these hideous clothes, too." Like always in Severus's world, Harry's attire was extremely colourful and mismatched. This time, he wore a light blue corduroy jacket, a striped shirt in all colours of the rainbow and red trousers with flower applique.

Severus's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare make fun of me," he said. Then he dropped his head. "You'd better go and find yourself shiny new friends. Leave me alone."

"What's the matter?" Harry said. "Why should I make fun of you? And what's all this about new friends? You're my friend, are you not?"

"I thought so. But I don't like it when you're mocking my clothing."

"Mocking your ..." Harry looked down at himself and then at Severus, who was glaring at him defiantly. Only then did he remember how hideous Severus's usual attire was. Harry had become used to it, seeing the boy wearing it day in, day out.

"I was mocking my own clothing," Harry said. "The colours are horribly clashing. I always look like a parrot or a clown."

"I love the things you wear," Severus said, stroking the collar of Harry's jacket reverently. "They're bright and cheerful."

"Don't you think that black and austere is much more elegant?"

Severus grinned. "You're a weird boy, Harry Evans. Come on, let's find a compartment."

*

In the bathroom next to the library, Snape was hovering in front of the toilet, held upright by Harry's spell. Holding Snape's robes up with one hand and Snape's penis with the other, Harry guided a stream of urine at the bowl. The sound of the urine hitting the water in the toilet bowl was drowned out by a loud voice from the hallway.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

"Shit," Harry said. "Leave it to my girlfriend to turn up just when I've got another guy's prick in my hand."

He waited until Snape had finished, spelled them both clean and Apparated them back into the library where the remains of Snape's lunch were scattered all over the table in front of the fireplace. "Kreacher," Harry called, putting Snape back into his chair and performing a moistening spell on his eyes.

"Master," the house-elf said, popping up next to Harry.

"Where is she?"

"Kreacher offered Miss Weasley tea in the kitchen, Master."

"Perfect. Thank you, Kreacher. It would be great if you could clean up the table."

The house-elf nodded, his ears fluttering happily, and Harry went to see Ginny.

Ginny was sitting at the table, her hands around a steaming mug. She didn't look up when Harry entered the kitchen.

"Hello, Gin," he said tentatively and sat down opposite her, the teapot like a barrier between them.

"Long time no see," she said, still not looking up.

"I'm sorry." Harry Accio'd a mug and poured himself some tea. "I've been really busy with Snape and stuff."

"Too busy to inform me of your plans? Too busy to answer my owls? Too busy to say thank you for the birthday present I sent?" Her voice sounded shrill.

"Bloody hell." Harry slapped his forehead. "I asked Kreacher to collect my mail and to put it away for when I have time to go through it. I totally forgot my birthday."

"House-elves are really convenient creatures, aren't they?"

Ginny sounded a lot like Hermione, and Harry didn't know what to say. "He's happy like that. It would break his heart if I set him free," he finally said, stammering.

"Idiot," Ginny said, and for the first time, she looked directly at Harry. Her eyes were red and swollen, and they flashed dangerously. All of a sudden, her wand was in her hand. Harry hid behind the teapot, readying himself for the sensation of huge bat-bogeys flapping from his nostrils.

"Accio Harry's birthday present." Instead of bogeys, the pantry door flapped. Parcels in all shapes and colours shot through the kitchen and piled up on the table.

"What did you get me?" Harry asked, watching Ginny rummaging through the mountain of presents.

Ginny took a tiny golden box with a red bow from the bottom of the pile and pocketed it. "It doesn't matter anymore," she said.

"Not long ago," she started, and it sounded as if she'd practised in front of a mirror, "you broke it off to protect me. I accepted your decision since I couldn't change it anyway and waited for you to come back. But you never did, not really. We got back together after the war, true -"

"Ginny," Harry said, but she held up her hand.

"- except that you were obsessed with those memories and with finding Snape. We were living in the same house, yet you hardly even noticed me."

"Ginny, I -"

"Don't.

"Now, I have to break it off. I'm not doing it to try to get back at you, believe me. I just think that we both need more time to find out what we really want."

She fell silent, looking at Harry as if she were prompting him to speak. He was at a loss for words, and after a moment, she added, "I hope to see you at Christmas, though. Who knows, maybe things will look different, then."

She shrugged her shoulders, got up and walked slowly out of the kitchen. At the door, she turned her head. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry stared at the multicoloured parcels in front of him. "Bright and cheerful," he said, pressing his hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.

*

"Slytherin," Severus said after McGonagall had ended her speech on the four Hogwarts Houses and left to see if everything was ready for the Sorting. "I hope we'll both be in Slytherin."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. Huddled close together with the other first years in the small room off the Great Hall, he'd discovered two important things - that his mum definitely wasn't at Hogwarts and that nobody seemed to notice the striking resemblance he bore to his dad.

"Does it really matter?" Harry said. "I don't care where I end up. It would be great to be in the same house with you, though."

A skinny boy with mouse-brown hair and a face like a rodent turned around to him. "You can't be serious!" he said. "Only a Mudblood can be that stupid."

"Don't call him that." Severus glared at the boy and balled his fists. "Both his parents were magic."

"Nothing wrong with being Muggle-born," James said, smiling at Harry for the first time. "And believe me, you don't want to be in Slytherin. You don't look like a dark wizard to me."

Severus left the rodent-boy alone and turned to James. "Slytherin is the most noble of the four Houses," he said.

Sirius, who'd been listening with a bored expression, laughed out loud. "A very sorry kind of noblesse," he said, "as tattered as your robes."

James guffawed, and Severus, red in the face, lunged at Sirius. Harry barely managed to hold him back. "Leave Severus alone," he said, "he's far more noble than you can even imagine."

James and Sirius were holding their sides now. "Leave ickle Snivellus alone," Sirius said between bouts of laughter, "he's so noble, it's beneath him to wash his hair."

"Don't listen to them," Harry told Severus who was struggling against his grip. "They're just a bunch of stupid idiots."

His last words were shouted, and only McGonagall's arrival prevented the situation from escalating. "First years," she said, and her voice sounded more stern than Harry remembered it, "form a line and follow me."

The Great Hall, the Sorting Hat's song, the floating candles, the enchanted ceiling - lost in his memories, Harry only came back to this strange reality when he heard McGonagall call a well-known name.

"Avery."

The rodent-boy went to the front where the Sorting Hat sat on its rickety stool and put it on his head. Before he could even sit down, the hat shouted, "Slytherin."

"Are you really sure you want to be in Slytherin?" Harry whispered to Severus, watching the Slytherins cheer and clap as Avery walked over to their table.

"Don't worry about Avery. He'll be soon very sorry to have talked to you like that." Severus looked fierce.

"It's not that. It's just, I don't know ..."

"Black," McGonagall called, and Sirius walked to the stool, grinning and waving like an actor who's about to receive an award. It took the hat an eternity to come to a decision, but finally it shouted, "Gryffindor."

"At least I know one thing now," Severus said.

"What?"

"I'd rather die than be in Gryffindor."

Harry sighed. When McGonagall called, "Evans," he made his way to the front, full of determination.

"Slytherin," Harry thought, putting on the hat, "Slytherin."

"What a strange request from a reckless Gryffindor like you, Harry Potter," the Sorting Hat said, and Harry nearly fell off the stool.

"What?" he said and bit his lip to keep himself from speaking again.

"What?" Harry thought. "How do you know me? Who, I mean, what are you?"

"Well." The hat chuckled. "Let's better first establish what I am not."

"You aren't the Sorting Hat," Harry thought. "You can't be. We aren't at Hogwarts, but in Snape's mind."

"Well done, Mr. Potter. 100 points to ... ah, I forgot, that's what we're here to find out."

"Why play games? If you're a part of Snape's mind and know everything that's going on here, why can't you make him, or better yourself, come back to life?"

The Sorting Hat, or whatever it was, chuckled once more. "Even if I tried to explain it to you, I don't think you'd be able to understand. There's a part of Severus that loves being here with you, that doesn't want to go back."

"Should I be horrible to him, then, so that he doesn't want to be here with me anymore?"

"I told you you wouldn't understand. Another part of Severus, most probably the stronger of those two, abhors the fact that you're here and is unwilling to ever acknowledge your presence. And then there's the part of him that wants nothing more than to die."

The Sorting Hat sighed. "Of course there are still other parts of Severus Snape. He's a very complex character, after all. But those three are the ones that concern you most."

"So what can I do?"

"What do you want to accomplish, Mr. Potter?"

"I want him to live his life, to be happy, to be himself again."

"Severus is always himself, never forget that. And he's happier now than ever before."

"But you just told me -"

"I told you that the mind is a complicated thing."

"Still, I want him to live. In the real sense of the word."

"Then you must show him that his life is worth living."

"How can I do that?"

"Just like you won all your great battles, by being yourself, your annoying, stubborn, wonderful self. And there's only one place where you can be your true self."

*

"Gryffindor."

Severus lowered his head. He refused to watch Harry walk over to the Gryffindor table, refused to see Harry's new mates cheer him on, refused to see Harry's happiness. Severus was well aware of the fact that now that Harry was a Gryffindor, Severus had lost his best friend. There were certain unalterable principles, laws of magical existence a mere mortal shouldn't call into question. Slytherins don't get along with Gryffindors was one of them, and Severus had listened to too many bedtime stories featuring sly Slytherins escape the wrath of Gryffindor bullies to know that it couldn't be far from the truth.

When Severus looked up again, he met Harry's eyes. His friend didn't look happy in the least, and the little smile Harry sent Severus's way could only be interpreted as apologetic and sad. Severus didn't answer Harry's smile. He had to avert his eyes to fight the tears that threatened to invade them. Snivellus, he thought and made a fist. He was a Prince, and he would show his enemies how strong he was.

"Hmm," Severus heard a small voice say when it was finally time to put the Sorting Hat on his head. "Difficult, very difficult. I can see courage, so much courage, and loyalty to those you love. There's darkness and hatred, too, and an incredible amount of talent. An exceptional child, indeed - so where shall I put you?"

Severus shrugged his shoulders. This Sorting Hat didn't seem very capable of doing its job. First it put Harry in Gryffindor, and then it failed to recognise Severus's heritage, the Slytherin noblesse of the Half-blood Prince.

The hat chuckled. "Never underestimate what you don't fully understand, young man."

The small voice in Severus's head became serious, then. "It's a dangerous path you have chosen. Never forget that it's his choices that make a man. Never forget your courage and your love in ...

"... Slytherin."

*

In the days that succeeded the Sorting, Harry had a hard time to demonstrate that his friendship for Severus hadn't changed. He managed to sit next to Severus in every class the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years had together. When classes were over, Harry took great care not to lose sight of Severus. He followed him to the lake, the Quidditch pitch and even the library. Most of the time, Severus didn't acknowledge his presence. He only talked to Harry once, when Severus had been trying to sneak into the Restricted Section. Madam Pince had thrown him out on his ear and threatened to complain about him to Professor Slughorn. Severus blamed Harry to have alerted the librarian by treating the books in that typical Gryffindor fashion, clumsy and without respect.

Harry didn't give up, and while Severus behaved as if Harry were invisible, he didn't seem to make friends in Slytherin, either. They danced around each other like boxers, each waiting for the other to make the first move, and just when Harry had had enough of Severus's childish behaviour, good luck came his way.

They had their first flying lesson on a cold and windy day. Dark clouds enveloped the castle's towers, and Madam Hooch was acting even more chipper than usual. Each standing next to a broom, the first-years were shouting, "Up!" in various degrees of excitement. The battered old broom beside Harry leapt into his hand at once, just like its mate had done all those years ago, but Severus's broom behaved oddly. Whereas its handle jumped up and nearly hit Severus in the face, the bristles described circles on the lawn. Mary McDonald, a tall Gryffindor with pigtails and overlarge teeth, sniggered demonstratively and nudged Sirius, whose broom didn't move at all.

"Do you want to sweep the lawn, Snivellus?" Sirius said. "If you work really hard, maybe you can become Filch's apprentice some day."

Harry sighed with relief when Madam Hooch interrupted them, clapping her hands. "Hurry up, hurry up," she said. "I want to see you airborne before it starts to rain."

She showed them how to mount their brooms, corrected their grips and finally instructed them to kick off from the ground. Like Neville before, or rather, after him, Peter shot up into the air, higher and higher. More fortunate than Neville, Peter managed to cling to his broomstick until it returned to the ground, reeling and rocking.

While everybody watched the spectacle of Peter whirling helplessly through the air, Harry hovered two feet above the ground. He kept his eyes on Severus, who was struggling to stay on his broom, red in the face and scowling. The broomstick was bucking under him, and Harry drifted closer, covering Severus's hands on the handle with one of his. "You must treat your broom as if it were alive, a shying Thestral or a proud Hippogriff."

"Don't think that I need your advice," Severus said, but then he smiled, and his broom hovered next to Harry's, firm and steady.

At exactly that moment, Mary turned around to them. "Look at those sweethearts," she said, and her laughter was derisive.

"Shut up," Harry shouted. Everything happened very fast. Harry pulled his wand out of his robes with his free hand, huge boils broke out all over Mary's face, and Harry and Severus soared up to the clouds, their hands still linked together on Severus's broomstick handle.

Harry leaned forwards and pushed his hand gently down. They stopped their ascent and hovered next to the Owlery, surrounded by clouds. "Brilliant," Severus said. "That's better than jumping from a swing."

"Much better," Harry said. "Only I'm afraid it's detention for both of us. Are you angry with me now?"

Severus shook his head. "What did you do to that girl?"

"It's called Furnunculus. I can teach you, if you want me to."

*

Part II