FIC: "Occam's Razor", Chapter Nine


Chapter Nine

Draco returned that Friday in time for lunch. Harry didn't know what'd come over him, but from the moment he arrived, there was only one thing on Harry's mind. When Draco dallied over dessert, making idle chatter, Harry finally lost patience. Taking his spoon away from him, Harry set it aside, then took Draco's hand to tug him up. Muttering an excuse to Hagrid, Harry pulled the surprised man after him, uttering only one word of explanation once they were in the entrance hall, "Shag."

Laughing, Draco kept up with him, jumping from the staircase to the corridor, then following as Harry took the lead. Through the sitting room, ignoring the painting, into the bedchamber, then a blur of frantic activity as clothes were shed.

Nothing between them but skin, they rolled onto the bed, scuffling with each other for dominance, rubbing against each other, pinning arms and legs, fixing mouths, hissing out from pinches of fingers and scrapes of teeth, gasping and groaning, in a frenzied, comparatively short, sweaty and desperate race to mutual completion.

They both lay on their backs beside each other, not speaking while they recovered. The room was warm, the sun streaming in through the window, its beams catching the dust motes they'd disturbed from the coverlet.

Draco turned onto his side. "Want to talk about it?" he asked, trailing his hand across Harry's chest.

Rolling to face him, Harry took in the sight of him for a moment. The blond hair hung in damp strands, framing the high cheekbones, the lips full and almost purplish from kissing. The gray eyes shone out at him, radiating warmth and undisguised affection.

"When this is all over, I'm leaving," Harry told him, his voice almost a whisper.

Draco nodded. "I thought so. So, this was a goodbye, then?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I just needed you." He smoothed the hair from Draco's face, taking deliberate care to tuck the loose strands behind his ears.

"Where will you go?"

Sighing, Harry said, "Grimmauld at first, until I find somewhere more to my liking."

"Why now?" Draco asked gently.

Well, yes, that was the question, wasn't it, to which there was no simple answer. "Part of it's Severus, I guess. I mean if we manage to pull it off, then there's no reason for me to stay—I think that's why I felt stuck here. Couldn't move on until he was…free. Unfinished business. I didn't realize that until we decided to do…what we're going to do," he added.

"Makes sense," Draco said softly. "And Severus'll need someplace to go."

Harry came up on an elbow as he frowned. "He'll probably go back to Spinner's End, I'd imagine."

Draco smiled as if he knew something Harry didn't. "Maybe. But I think he's a bit attached to you."

Staring at him, Harry considered the possibility, then snorted. "He'd have to be—you and me, we're the only ones he has right now." He shook his head. "No, he'll have some sort of plan cooked up in that head of his."

Draco's smile faded. "I'll miss you," he said soberly.

"Draco, I…you and me, it's been the best summer of my life, and I…."

"But it's just sex, Harry, remember?" Draco chided him, reaching out to pinch Harry's nipple, but Harry grabbed his hand first.

"Great sex," Harry murmured, lacing their fingers together. "I'll see you around, I hope."

Draco squeezed his hand. "That's a promise. You know where to find me."

They lay a little while longer, then when Harry rolled off the bed to dress, Draco followed him. As they sat side by side to pull on their shoes, Draco said without looking at him, "Best sex of my life."

Harry smiled. "Mine too." He pulled at Draco's shirt to keep him seated when he tried to stand. "Not just sex, though," he told him self-consciously. "Severus thinks we're in love. I told him we weren't, but it's not only sex, is it?"

Draco shook his head. "Somewhere in between. I can only speak for myself…" He hesitated, meeting Harry's eyes. "There's affection. I care…a great deal," he confessed.

"So do I," Harry admitted, then leant over and tipped up Draco's chin to kiss him.

oooOOOooo

The day, or what was left of it after they exited the bedchamber and faced Snape's tongue-in-cheek, "Good morning," dragged on slowly. They attended supper out of habit, neither one of them hungry as they pushed the food back and forth on their plates and half-heartedly laughed at Hagrid's animated details of his latest creature conquest.

The evening was agony, as they attempted to spend it as they usually did: a game of chess, with even more than their usual disastrous results, their dimwittedness surprising even Snape; a discussion of the latest edicts out of the Ministry, heralded in that day's Prophet; then they took turns reading to Snape, gifting him with two chapters each, causing Snape to raise his eyebrows and look from one to the other with suspicion.

When it was Draco's turn to read, Harry slumped in his seat and closed his eyes, lulled by the sound of his voice. For the first time that week, except for the brief interlude in the bedchamber, Harry felt content and relaxed.

He smiled as he listened to Draco read and Snape interrupt, irritably and often.

This was his life, he thought to himself, and it wasn't so bad, now, was it? He had two friends whose companionship he enjoyed: one relationship where he felt needed and challenged, and another that satisfied him physically. He opened his eyes, his breath hitching in his chest, as he realized that this was all about to come to an end, in the space of hours.

He wondered wildly if they were doing the right thing; why not just let things go on as they were, a dysfunctional ménage à trois, where there was little risk, but, he had to admit, little chance of growth for any of them? He was fighting the urge to hyperventilate, when he realized that Draco'd stopped reading.

When Harry looked up at Draco, he read it in the man's face: he knew what Harry was thinking, uncanny as it was. The gray eyes were compassionate but held a warning as well.

"Harry? Why don't you get us a drink? Just a small one?"

"Yeah, good idea," Harry muttered, as he went for the sideboard. When he returned and leant over the back of the settee to hand Draco his drink, Draco snagged his sleeve and pulled his head down close.

"Stop thinking, all right?"

Harry didn't answer, but squeezed his shoulder before taking his seat. Once he sat, he looked up to find Snape watching the two of them, his face impatient.

"Is there a reason you stopped mid-sentence? I'd like to finish this before the two of you lollygag off into…." He waved in the direction of the bedchamber.

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance, one that spoke all that they understood but couldn't say: yes, they'd both miss this routine of comfortable evenings spent with Snape, nights where they sweated on the sheets, days with their heads together as they planned and plotted. But the prize at the end, Snape alive, would be well worth it.

They laughed out loud.

oooOOOooo

When the clock struck eleven, Draco read to the end of the paragraph, then closed the book. "That's it for tonight," he announced. He and Harry stood and moved into the bedchamber to change into clothes that would protect them from the brambles and insects of the forest.

They were ready to leave, when Draco put a hand on Harry's arm. "I just thought of something. We should take a cloak…for Severus."

Harry stifled a groan. "God, I'm glad you thought of that," he grumbled as he pulled one from his wardrobe. He held it up as he smiled. "Think he'll mind being a Gryffindor?"

Draco snatched the cloak and draped it over his arm. "God, I hope so." Jerking his head toward the sitting room, they looked out to see Snape still sitting at his desk.

The man didn't look up as they crossed the room, single file behind the settee. They were almost to the door, when Harry stopped; Draco turned to look at him, seeming puzzled, then sighed resignedly when Harry mouthed the word, "Wait."

He felt Draco try to restrain him by the sleeve, but then he let go. Harry returned to stand in front of the painting. "Severus?"

Snape looked up at him, cocking a quizzical eyebrow. "Harry."

There was so much Harry wanted to say, but knew he couldn't. He thought that Snape understood it all anyway. "Draco and I are going for a walk."

The man dissected him with a searching look. Standing, he rounded the desk to stop in the center of the painting. Craning his neck toward the window, even though Harry knew he couldn't see, his gaze then drifted back to Harry's face. "There's a three-quarter moon, I believe?"

When Harry nodded, Snape's visage seemed to darken. "Have a care, then."

The sound of Draco clearing his throat made Harry startle. He reached out and touched the place in the painting where Snape was standing. "See you later, sir."

He barely heard the words, soft as they were, as he reached the door.

"I should hope so."

oooOOOooo

"He knows," Harry muttered as they navigated the corridors toward the classroom.

"Of course, he does," Draco replied blandly. "You noticed he didn't try to stop us."

Harry's face was grim. "Yeah, I noticed that. Slytherins," he said with disgust.

Draco laughed and pulled him along by the hand.

In the classroom, Harry moved to the cauldron, placing the folded cloak on top of its contents, making a face as he heard Draco's soft, "Stupefy," behind him, then the creak of the hinges as the cage was opened.

Appearing at his side, Draco laid the bat, wrapped in the Slytherin scarf, on top of the cloak. They stepped back, Harry with his wand out, when Draco turned and took hold of Harry's shoulders. Rubbing his hands briskly up and down Harry's arms, Draco commanded, "Take a deep breath."

Harry smiled and complied, then wrapped his arms around Draco. "This is it," he said, his voice steady and sure. Pulling back, he kissed him quickly.

It seemed to take forever, the trip through the empty hallways of the castle, down the steps and out though the great doors, Harry levitating the cauldron and its cargo, while Draco lit the way with his wand. Once outside the gates, they cut a wide berth toward the forest, so as to avoid Hagrid's hut and the remote possibility that Fang would howl their presence to the moon.

They heaved a joint sigh of relief once they were within the forest, no longer worried about detection, although there was a slight anxiety about what might take offense at their intrusion into the mysterious and slightly malevolent woodland.

They walked silently, their wand arms out, working their way in deeper and deeper. The three-quarter moon above them peeped through the break in the trees, but provided little light, and absolutely no comfort, an ever-present reminder of what they were on their way to do.

On the inside, though, Harry felt at peace about all of it. He remembered similar treks into the forest at night. He smiled as he recalled the first one, when he and Draco had covered the same territory as first-years.

The last time when he'd ventured in on his own, though not entirely so, he'd experienced a similar sense of purpose, but on this night there was no fear or regret, only hope and a sense that they were doing the right thing.

As they reached their destination and stepped into the small clearing, the moon was unveiled as the tree cover fell away, casting a glimmer of light that reflected off the stones of the circle they'd set there. Draco muttered a, "Nox," then stepped inside the ring of rocks, directing Harry where to position the cauldron, at dead-center.

After they'd carefully removed its contents to lie outside the circle, Harry picked up the strange wand, then moved to the cauldron. "Aguamenti," he murmured, directing the stream with the wand until the cauldron was nearly full. After critically eyeing the water level, Draco nodded. "Incendio," Harry commanded, stepping away and watching the flames beneath the stone vessel for a moment.

Draco was already kneeling on the ground outside the circle, his wand lit and aloft again as he spread the phials on top of the scarf, the Stunned bat laid carefully to the side. Looking up at Harry, he nodded. "Unseal them," he directed as he sat back on his heels.

Tapping each phial in turn with the wand tip, Harry murmured the incantation, watching as the wax rings curled up and disappeared with a slight pouf of sound. Draco had wisely labeled them, '1, 2, 3,' so that they'd be able to add them in the correct and crucial order. The two of them exchanged a look of mute understanding as Draco handed them up to Harry.

Opening the textbook, Draco studied a page for a moment, then shut it and stood to his feet.

"Ready?" he asked solemnly.

"Ready," Harry said soberly.

They moved to the side of the cauldron, just starting to bubble. They stood, silent, waiting until it reached a full, frothy boil. Draco held his lit wand up so that Harry wouldn't miss the wide-mouth opening.

"It's time. Go on," Draco said.

He began to chant softly in Latin, as Harry moved the first phial to his right hand. Using his thumb, he unstoppered it, then tipped it to pour its contents into the center of the cauldron.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son." Harry's voice wavered slightly at the beginning, but a look at Draco quelled his nervousness.

As the dust hit the water, it ceased to boil suddenly as it gave off an eerie blue light that reflected on their faces. Slowly, it simmered again, then came to a full boil.

At a nod from Draco, Harry popped the stopper of the next phial as Draco took up his chanting again.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master."

This time the surface of the water seemed to bow upwards, making the two of them shrink back as it radiated a pure yellow light. After a moment, the water receded to its prior level, and began to bubble and boil once again.

Harry waited until Draco began to speak, then unstoppered the final phial, shivering as he wondered again how Snape had obtained its contents.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," he finished, his voice strong and sure.

The surface of the cauldron let out a belch of steam as the viscous fluid hit water, throwing off a crimson hue that seemed to linger longer than the other two effervescences. This time, though, as it began to boil again, it threatened to spill over the brim of the cauldron, its surface blue, then white, then red, then rapidly cycling through all three, until it was a kaleidoscope of color.

Harry stared at it, fascinated, until Draco jerked on his sleeve to pull him out of the circle.

No extraneous words were to be spoken, so Draco pointed meaningfully at the familiar. With a nod of understanding, Harry levitated the bat from the ground, propelling it carefully to hover over the frothing cauldron. Draco was chanting again, so Harry held it there until he fell silent. After a quick glance to the side to make certain that the time had come, Harry looked back to the cauldron.

In his mind, he cried out a plea, he called out an apology, he felt the hope of weeks spread through his chest like fire. With a flick of his wand, he felled the creature into the steaming vessel. Dropping the wand, he took a step backward, vaguely aware of Draco taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly.

They watched as the rainbow of colors threatened to overflow the cauldron. There were a few sparks of red, then blue, then white streaks of light shot into the velvety black sky. Harry held his breath, straining to see through the gathering panoply of colors and mist. Then suddenly…incredibly…just when Harry was expecting that blinding flash of light that was sure to come…nothing.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

The water in the cauldron continued to bubble, the colors within still reflecting into what was left of the steam above it…. The moments stretched into minutes, and when nothing more occurred, Harry felt the crush of disappointment in his chest.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "Fuck. Fuck! We did it exactly right, I know we did. It has to be the bat. Damn it! He knew that's what we thought, and he let us go on and—" He stopped short as Draco stepped over the stones into the circle.

"Draco," he said, reaching out to touch his arm, then was surprised when Draco ignored him, and shook his hand away.

"Draco, maybe it's not a good idea to get too close; it's still at a full boil—Draco," he growled as the man continued to ignore him. Swearing as he stepped into the circle, Harry pulled at his arm again. He managed to turn him, just enough to see his face…just enough to terrify him into action.

"Draco…Draco, what's wrong?" He shook the man's shoulders, but his face remained completely blank, his eyes unseeing, as he shook off Harry with a strength that laid him out on the ground, flat on his back.

Harry scrambled to his knees. "Draco!" he cried out as the man stopped to stand rigidly in front of the cauldron. Harry was on his feet and almost at his side, when Draco bent forward, seeming suspended above the frothing cauldron. Just as it appeared that Draco would fall forward, Harry reached him. He'd no sooner grabbed him by the shoulders, than there was an explosion of white-hot heat and light that propelled both of them backward.

They landed with a thud just outside the circle, Harry bearing the brunt of their fall. Draco was limp in his arms on top of him, but for the moment, Harry was mesmerized by the fireworks from the cauldron. The sky was lit up with the phosphorescent streaks of light, so blinding that he had to look away, hugging Draco tightly as he waited for it to be over.

Just as suddenly as it'd begun, it stopped, the cauldron seeming to suck the light and steam back into itself with an audible vortex of sound. Peeking over Draco's shoulder, Harry stared at the lingering mist, then his mouth dropped open as the unbelievable occurred.

A figure spiraled up from within the cauldron, twisting eerily on its axis, as it rotated the man to full height, like a vase forming on a potter's wheel. For a moment, he seemed suspended in space, head on his chest, arms dangling at his side. Then he pitched forward, crumbling to the ground, his feet catching on the edge of the cauldron and spilling it over as he fell. The ground hissed as the bubbling fluid seeped into the earth, dry with leaves and twigs.

Harry couldn't move for a moment, paralyzed, his heart pounding so loud that he thought his ears would burst. Gently laying Draco to the side, he crawled on his hands and knees to the supine figure just feet away. Pushing the wet hair aside, he stared down at the man's face.

"Severus?"

There was no reply, but the man breathed in a steady rhythm, gurgling faintly as fluid trickled from his mouth. Sitting back on his heels, Harry pumped a fist.

"It worked! It worked, bloody hell, we did it!" Looking back to Snape, then over to the still-unconscious Draco, Harry's next shout of victory died in his throat as he considered their less than favorable conditions. "Great," he muttered at both of them, crossing to Draco on his knees, "just great."

oooOOOooo

Immensely relieved when Draco revived only moments later, Harry returned to kneel beside the newly-resurrected man. Draco sat up, staring with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open as Harry bent over Snape.

"It worked," Draco gasped as he struggled to his feet.

"Yeah, seems so. Help me, would you?"

Snape was moaning something indecipherable, as they sat him up, trying to wrap the naked man in the cloak. His eyes were open, wildly looking from one to the other as they pulled him to his feet.

"Severus, can you walk?" Harry asked. There was no reply, just a shuffling of his feet as Snape tried to comply. "Good enough. Draco, you get his other side."

With Snape snug between them, Harry Side-Alonged the three of them to just outside the gates. They half-walked, half-dragged the disoriented man, through the great doors, up the staircase, down the corridor to Harry's rooms.

They were soaked through, a combination of the cauldron's contents and sweat, covered in a grimy muck from the floor of the forest.

"Shower," Harry croaked out as he steered them toward the bath.

Draco and Harry stripped first, taking turns to hold up the sagging, half-conscious Snape. Once in the shower, they lathered him up, holding him in place under the warm spray, as they scrubbed to clean the filth from the three of them.

Dripping a trail from the bath to the bedchamber, they toweled Snape dry, then tucked the unresisting man into the bed, fitting the covers up to his neck as he started to shiver uncontrollably. Pulling on boxers and t-shirts, Draco and Harry stood by the bed and took their first good look at the reincarnated man.

"Well, it's Severus," Draco said. "But he looks…I don't know, would you say younger?"

Harry looked down at Snape. "Yeah, younger…but it's him." He looked up at Draco, then gave him a weary nod toward the sitting room. "C'mon, you're next." Leading Draco by the hand, Harry installed him on the settee, then knelt beside him, worriedly examining the burns on his forehead and cheeks.

"What happened?" Draco asked, batting Harry's hands away.

Harry stood and shook his head. "I'm not sure, but that can wait. You need some burn-healing paste. Stay put, all right?" Harry asked, his voice a command.

Sinking back into the settee, Draco didn't resist. "Yeah, go right ahead. I'm not going anywhere."

Using the Floo, Harry raided the infirmary, grabbing burn-healing paste, painkilling potion, then, as an afterthought, some Dreamless Sleep Draught.

Although Draco resisted, Harry insisted on the painkilling potion, waiting as Draco drank it down. Sitting beside him, he swabbed the paste onto the man's facial burns, smiling as Draco complained about its bright orange color.

"It's not pretty, but it works," Harry chided him as he worked the paste into his skin. Summoning a coverlet from the bedchamber, Harry tucked it in around him, Draco already half-asleep.

"We did it," Draco mumbled as he turned onto his side.

"Yes, we did," Harry said, for the first time the realization fully sinking in: they had done it. He settled back on the settee, Draco's feet in his lap, then Summoned a bottle of Ogden's. Taking a swig from it, he closed his eyes and let out a pent-up breath of relief. He wasn't certain exactly what had happened, though. Something had gone wrong, but whatever it was had thankfully righted itself. When Snape was…himself—Harry smiled at the thought—he had a few questions that he suspected only the man could answer.

Although he knew that it was Snape who slumbered in the bedchamber, Harry held his breath as he opened his eyes, his head coming up to seek proof-positive of their success.

And there it was.

Even though Harry'd known that it would be so, he felt a twinge of loss.

Staring at him from the painting just three feet away was Severus Snape, Potions master, seated behind his desk, posed with one hand on the book in front of him, the other resting on the arm of his chair, his eyes unseeing, his features immobile, devoid of the animation to which Harry was accustomed.

It was simply a painting now, frozen and fixed in the time when it'd been painted, the hues and glaze of the oil-painted surface now free of its gauzy white coating.

Harry tipped his glass upward in a toast. "Here's to the real you."

oooOOOooo

After two drinks, Harry was fading fast. He considered sleeping on the sitting room floor, but first, he had to take a look at the occupant of his bed. Gently slipping from the settee, he retucked the coverlet around Draco, then quietly walked to the bedchamber.

The light from the sitting room spilled in over the bed, allowing Harry to inspect Snape fully and at his leisure. Sitting slowly on the edge of the bed, Harry pulled the coverlet carefully away from his chin; the man lay curled on his side, his black hair still damp and plastered against a cheek.

It was Snape alright, but…not the same Snape whom Harry remembered. His face was slightly fuller, the skin stretched tauter over the features that Harry knew so well. There were no careworn lines about his mouth and eyes, and the overall effect was exactly as Draco had pointed out—this Snape appeared younger. Harry wondered why that would be so, then counted all of them lucky, considering how Voldemort had looked on the night he'd been resurrected.

There was something in the way that Snape slept that tugged at Harry's heart. He seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, so…dependent, none of them words that Harry would ever associate with the Snape he knew. But he realized that the three of them were now definitely in uncharted territory…past associations aside, this would now be a relationship where Snape was not a Death Eater, nor a professor, where Harry and Draco were no longer students, nor even enemies. He wondered and worried a bit about the morning to come, when the three of them would have breakfast together, with Snape at his three-dimensional début.

Snape stirred in his sleep, and Harry watched, fascinated, as a long slender hand circumvented the coverlet to scratch behind an ear. He eased himself off of the bed, still watching as the hand fastened on the coverlet and pulled it up around the shoulders.

Harry was just at the door, when he hesitated. Looking into the sitting room, he could see Draco, feet hanging off the settee, the bright orange color on his cheeks, his breath blowing a few stray strands of hair as he snuffled in his sleep.

He looked back to the figure in the bed. Snape seemed peaceful enough, his head a black blob atop the pillow, shoulders hunched, his hand still clutched on the coverlet. Harry could see the rise and fall of his chest, but otherwise his sleep was soundless.

Looking from the bedchamber to the sitting room once again, he was struck by the contrast between the two of them…one so fair, one so dark. Both of them Slytherins, Harry thought to himself, as he himself was the one without a place to sleep. He considered his options, glancing between the two rooms….

Harry sighed, then made his way, past the bed to the chair by the window. Tucking his legs beneath him, Harry laid his head on the wing of the chair, then closed his eyes, for the first time in weeks, falling into a restful and dreamless sleep.

oooOOOooo

When he awakened, Harry found himself twisted sideways in the chair, his head wedged at an uncomfortable angle. Groaning, he straightened to sit up, then stretched out his arms and legs as he yawned. He rolled his head slowly to the side, then sat still when he found he was being watched.

Snape had turned onto his side, facing the window. The coverlet was bunched at his waist, revealing a pleasantly muscled and hairless chest. One hand beneath his head, the other lay relaxed on the coverlet in front of him. He blinked lazily, his dark eyes still fixed on Harry.

Harry stood and stretched again, then stepped to the side of the bed. "Severus?" When there was no reply, just a shifting of the eyes upward, Harry bent down, his hands on his knees. "Do you know where you are?"

When the lips curled in a sneer, Harry was certain that Snape did indeed know where he was, confirmed by his answer.

"I believe I'm in your bed. I don't think you'd have located me elsewhere."

Harry harrumphed, then straightened, still looking down at him. "Well, that's a relief. So…." It was odd, but he'd not thought much about what they'd do the morning afterward. The rumbling in his stomach decided him, though.

"I'll get us some breakfast." He crossed to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled out his black trousers and shirt. Throwing them on the end of the bed, he directed, "Get dressed. These should fit you, though the legs might be a bit short. Come out when you're ready."

They breakfasted in the sitting room, Draco and Harry on the settee, Snape in an armchair to the side. Over tea and toast, Draco was a veritable chatterbox, filling Snape in on the events of the night before. Snape didn't hesitate to stop him, digging for details, requiring Draco to supply him with the exact sequence of steps they'd taken.

Harry listened, marveling over the evidence of simple things: the blink of Snape's eyes, the torsion of his wrist as he stirred his tea, the low timbre of his voice, the sheer mass and reality of him, seated, incredibly, in a chair just a foot away.

They'd finished, and were on their second round of tea, when Draco came to the end of it. "And that's all I remember; from there…." He shook his head, motioning to Harry.

Harry fixed his eyes on Snape. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"I'm not certain I understand," Snape said as he returned the look, unintimidated.

"What we did…with the bat. It didn't work," Harry said firmly.

"It didn't?" Draco asked, perplexed. "But it had to've. He's here," he said emphatically.

Harry shook his head. "No, it wasn't the bat. The whole thing…stopped. Nothing. Then you," he pointed to Draco, "did that thing again. Remember when you zoned out, lost a minute or so, a couple of weeks ago?"

Draco sat up straighter, but Harry noticed that Snape had suddenly become interested in the leaves at the bottom of his cup.

"You went right for the cauldron," Harry continued. "Pushed me away when I tried to stop you. And here's the oddest part. When you got close to it, all bloody hell broke loose. You were about to fall in, I swear, when it exploded, and I barely managed to pull you away. That's when it happened," he finished soberly, his eyes still on Snape.

"When what happened?" Draco asked, his head tilted to the side.

Harry flipped a hand in Snape's direction. "Him is what happened."

Draco put a hand up to his forehead, fingering the almost healed burn there. "I don't remember," he murmured.

"Severus," Harry demanded. "What happened?"

Snape's eyes slid from the cup to meet Harry's. For a moment, there was an almost hostile standoff, then Harry saw it happen: Snape making his decision to speak truthfully. Setting his cup to the side, Snape sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him, a gesture that seemed defensive to Harry.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation," he acquiesced, looking to Draco, then nodding at Harry.

"Yeah, I think that's a bit overdue," Harry agreed sarcastically.

"It would be best if you hear me out. No interruptions," he cautioned.

Harry snorted. "We'll see."

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment, but Harry didn't feel the least bit cowed. When he didn't look away, Snape sighed. "Bat was not my…host."

Harry'd already reasoned that part out, but to hear Snape say it aloud sent a chill down his spine.

"When I died," Snape continued, "the infernal thing wasn't anywhere nearby. I drifted along the tunnel, out onto the grounds, then up into the castle, looking for an appropriate substitute." He paused, but neither Harry nor Draco prompted him, both of them listening raptly, literally on the edge of their seats.

"Time was growing short. A newly released spirit has a limited duration of time to find a suitable host; otherwise it must lie quiescent and garner energy to move once again. I found myself in a corridor that had been reduced to rubble. There were bodies strewn about, some of them dead, some of them living, many gravely injured, others merely stunned unconscious." He stopped and wet his lips. "With the last of my will, my intellect, my drive to survive, I fixed on the most likely…candidate." He dropped his eyes to his lap, then looked up slowly at Draco.

"You."

Draco jumped as if he'd been jolted. "Me?" he asked, incredulous.

Snape waved a weary hand in dismissal. "You. What good would it've done me to choose a Death Eater, or someone I did not know? If I had any hopes of being…resurrected, it would have to be someone who'd be free, and available…. You were my best choice, at the time. I knew there might be at least the ghost of a chance with you…."

Harry and Draco were both speechless, so Snape took the opportunity to move on quickly.

"As Harry was able to accomplish what he did with the memories I left him, it turned out to be moot…whom I chose to occupy. As it was, I was helpless for over two years. I'd given up all hope or desire for…reconstitution, until someone," his voice lowered as he looked at Harry, "sympathetic happened upon my trunk." He folded his hands in his lap. Inclining his head at Harry, he finished, "The rest you know."

Draco worked his mouth open and shut, apparently unable to make a sound.

Harry, however, spoke his indignation. "You should've told us! Draco could've been killed with that fool stunt of yours!"

Snape leant forward in his chair, his slow, measured story-telling meter gone. "Had I told you, Draco would've done it out of duty! Out of a debt he'd felt he owed! And he was never in any real danger, I assure you." He sat back in his chair, his body still tensed, but his voice more controlled. "At least this way…you both chose to do what you did, free of any compulsion. You recall my stance on the matter?" He studied Harry for a moment, then asked softly, "Was it out of duty that you did it?"

Draco spoke before Harry had the chance. "So…what I did, that was you…?" he asked, a look of horror on his face.

"I commandeered your will, just for the moment to get you near enough to the cauldron. Once there, it was just a matter of putting…that part of myself into the mixture, in a manner of speaking." He seemed mildly apologetic for a moment, as he watched Draco struggle with what he'd just said. Looking back to Harry, he repeated his question. "Out of duty, Harry?"

It was too much: the anxiety of the evening before; his nerves on edge as they'd performed the ritual; the rush of adrenalin until the three of them had been safe in his rooms; and now, now the mother of all outrages, that Snape had, despite what he'd said, put Draco in harm's way. He jumped to his feet, his hands in fists at his side.

"Duty," he scoffed, "yeah, that was part of it. As for the other part, you bloody well know what it was!" He was almost shouting, when he realized that Draco had paled and slumped back into the settee, holding his head.

Shooting Snape a disgusted look, he knelt in front of Draco. "You all right?" When Draco looked up at him and gave him a wan smile and a nod, Harry turned to Snape. "Make yourself useful and give him some painkilling potion. I have to clean up your mess in the forest." With a gentle tap to Draco's knee, Harry straightened, and without a glance at Snape, made for the door.

oooOOOooo

This time, Harry made the trip to the forest on his broom, soaring over the treetops, letting the wind clear his mind and wipe away his lingering exhaustion.

The clearing was as they'd left it, although the ground was now dry. He made short work of the ring of stones, levitating them to drop randomly about the clearing. He hesitated over what to do with the cauldron, as the stone vessel had split neatly in half. In the end, he decided that it was Snape's property, and he'd return it, a little worse for wear, to the storage room where he'd found it.

He took his time, once he'd replaced the broken cauldron, to return to his rooms. He'd have liked to stay away longer, given the darkness of his mood, but he reckoned that wasn't fair, knowing how he'd left Draco to…amuse their guest.

Just about to push open the door, he paused, pulled up short by the murmur of voices from inside the room.

Two voices…familiar ones, ones that had both become precious over this past summer. Despite what Snape'd done, even though Draco had been injured, Harry felt the lump grow in his throat as he listened. He didn't know what it said of the state of his heart, but the two people inside had become the most important people in his life. They'd weathered a storm and come through, and now…now wasn't the time to bail out, when they both needed him, just as he sensed he needed the two of them.

Family. Well, of a sort, he supposed with a sigh.

oooOOOooo

It was evening, supper long over, and they'd returned to the disturbing topic of what Snape had done, choosing Draco.

"So, all that time, you were in my head?"

"For lack of a better description, yes. More like in your mind."

"You knew what I was thinking, what I felt, what I did?" Draco asked darkly.

Snape's eyes were full of caution. "No, not precisely. I Occluded, for the most part. Kept myself as unaware as possible. Slumbering, in a way. Although," his voice softened, "there were occasions when I couldn't help but sense you…. When your emotions were strongest…when you were especially…agitated."

Draco's chin came up. "Like when?"

"Sometimes when you played….arguments with your mother…visits with your father…a few other instances," he finished, his discomfiture evident.

Harry had been watching Snape carefully, and had the sense that something was off. "That's all there was to it, then?" he asked, glancing from Snape to Draco, whose eyes widened as he met Harry's.

Draco gestured from himself to Harry and back again, his eyes flashing. "You didn't influence me, did you? Exert a little pressure so I'd do things I mightn't have done, if you hadn't been…there?"

"Never," Snape snapped at him, shooting Harry a look full of disdain. "It was a point of honor I did not violate."

But the look on Snape's face told Harry that he wasn't being entirely straightforward—not lying, but not altogether truthful. "What about this summer? Once Draco and I were…." he said softly, watching Snape's eyes.

There was a brief flash of chagrin, then Snape shrugged. "I confess, since I had a vested interest in what the two of you might do, I allowed myself more awareness."

Harry was grappling with the man's audacity. "You heard what we talked about…"

Snape nodded curtly and looked away.

"All our plans…how we were trying to figure things out?"

Draco held up his hand for Harry to stop. With the beginnings of a smile, Draco asked Snape, "May as well ask it outright. Did you enjoy it? Huddled up there in my psyche, while we fucked each other? All those weeks…. Severus?"

The answer was barely audible, and Harry was thrilled to see that Snape was finally embarrassed, as well he should've been. "I was aware of it, yes."

Draco bit his lower lip, studying Snape. When he looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow, Harry shook his head.

"I…don't know what to say. I'm…I'm…." Harry faltered.

For the second time that day, Harry felt he had to get away before he imploded. He fled his rooms, leaving Draco to deal with his erstwhile possessor.

oooOOOooo

Harry sat in the Gryffindor stands, watching the path of moon across the pitch. He thought to himself that this had been a day of eye-openers, insult added literally to injury, at least for Draco, for whom he'd easily taken offense.

But, he regretfully had to admit, although Snape had used them, the man had been right about a number of things, actually. Draco would've insisted on doing it…a debt owed, even if just to get Snape out of his head. He remembered, too, how Snape had steadfastly refused to help them…or had he? He remembered the things that they'd been overjoyed to think they'd tricked out of the man, but he wondered, who had tricked whom?

The worst of it, though, was the thought that Snape had been there, all those weeks, a voyeur, at the same time as he'd pantomimed a soulless subject in a portrait.

It made Harry's head hurt, struggling to balance his already waning outrage with his considerable pleasure that Snape was at the moment in his sitting room, a real live Snape with the promise of a future because of what they'd done. Even knowing what he did now, he couldn't say that he'd have done it any differently, given the fortunate result.

This time, it was Draco who rescued Harry. Harry watched as the man picked his way through the stands to sit beside him.

"How's your head?" Harry asked, putting out a hand to move the blond hair. The skin was only faintly pink now, but his cheeks still glowed orange from the paste.

"I'm fine," Draco said, taking his hand and threading his fingers through Harry's. "What're you thinking?" he asked, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder.

"Oh, giving him detention, and taking a million points," Harry told him.

Draco laughed, and nudged him. "Tempting, isn't it?" They sat for a moment in silence, then Draco said, 'Listen, as much as it's possible for him, he's sorry. Well, remorseful would be a better word." When Harry snorted, Draco nudged him again. "He's right and we're right. That whole possession thing—I'd've done the same thing. My mind turned out to be a good choice. But…I wish he would've told us, mostly for your sake. I know how you feel about him."

Harry turned to him, ready to protest, but Draco brought up a finger and put it against his lips, provoking an eerie sense of déjà vu.

"You need to talk to him, and remember this is the same Severus you…know from the painting." He ducked his head to catch Harry's eyes. "And if I can forgive him…then how can't you?"

"I've already forgiven him," Harry muttered. "Much as I'd've liked to drag it out."

"Well, I've known for weeks, bizarre as it is, that there's an attraction between the two of you."

"Maybe me…but him? I don't think so."

"I know so. You forget, I've sat there, week after week, watching it happen. All the innuendo, the questions, the poetry…."

Bizarre was an apt word, Harry thought, feeling miserable.

"Talk to him. He's miserable." Tilting Harry's chin up, Draco kissed him chastely, then pulled away and stood. "I'll stay until tomorrow, but then I’m going. And as much as I'd like a farewell fuck…well, I just can't."

Harry looked up, alarmed. "You'll come up next weekend? We have to—"

Draco shook his head. "No, you only have a week, then the old biddy's back. Make the most it. Besides," he smiled, "three's a crowd."

"Severus was wrong about you," Harry said softly. When Draco raised his eyebrows, Harry told him, "He warned me you'd tend to look out for yourself first. But look at you," he mumbled as he shook his head, his eyes bright with tears.

Brushing Harry's hair from his forehead, Draco let out a low laugh. "He'd've been right, except for one thing."

"One thing?" Harry asked.

Draco tapped Harry gently on the tip of his nose. "You. Amazing what caring about someone can do." He stepped back and gazed at Harry solemnly, as if memorizing him. "For the first time in my life, I'd like to find someone, just like you and Severus have. Where it's not just sex."

Harry felt the urge to shiver, just the thought of sex with Snape. "Well, we're not quite there yet, he and I."

"You will be," Draco told him as he turned to go.

"Draco!" Harry was out of his seat in an instant, then grabbed the surprised man by his collar and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him, as he murmured in his ear, "I don't know when or where or how—but there's someone out there, just waiting for you. I'm sure of it."

Draco pulled away and searched Harry's face, then his face split in a smile. "Yeah, you're right."

oooOOOooo

The next morning after breakfast, Harry walked Draco down to the gates. They stood facing each other, suddenly awkward.

"You'll let me know where you end up?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "First at Grimmauld, then wherever I settle on. Count on it," he promised.

Draco reached out and cupped Harry's cheek with his palm. "Not what I expected, Potter."

Leaning forward, Harry kissed him goodbye, a kiss that was redolent of all they'd shared that summer. Pulling away, Harry grinned. "Me neither, Malfoy."

After Draco was gone, Harry walked up to the great doors, and it just might've been hope that he felt.

oooOOOooo

Small steps, Harry would later think to himself, small steps were how anything in life worthwhile began….

He and Snape were having their after-breakfast cup of tea, Harry with the Prophet on his lap. "Here's something interesting. 'The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has just announced that the head of the Auror Department might've been involved in the recent—'"

"Harry," Snape interrupted him.

Looking up, Harry was puzzled. "What?"

Reaching out, Snape took the paper from him. "I can read it for myself, thank you."

"Oh, yeah. Habit," he muttered as he picked up his cup.

"There is something that I'd like to say," Snape continued, setting the paper aside, his face solemn.

Harry was intrigued. "Go on."

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's occurred to me that I've…mistreated you in the past. Several times," he paused at the look on Harry's face, "more than several times, in fact. And I'd like to…make it right," he finished, his voice strained with what Harry knew was the unfamiliarity of confessing a wrongdoing.

Harry's mouth dropped open, then he shook his head.

"What?" Snape asked cautiously.

Still shaking his head, Harry answered, "Nothing. It's just…considering what you've recently done, it's odd that you'd…think of," he waved vaguely, "something that far back."

Sitting up stiffly, Snape said, "I recall that you made similar amends, at the start of our reacquaintance. I'm about to begin a new life, and wish to clear the slate, much as you have."

Harry hid his surprise, then mused aloud, "A good decision. You know, someone once told me that when life gets turned upside down, you have two choices: become a coward and be afraid of everything, or start over. Make the most of the time you has left."

Snape stared at him, then inclined his head. "A wise man."

Harry smiled. "Draco," he said softly.

"Indeed?" Snape's tone was surprised.

"Yeah, and he's doing exactly that. You know, he left so that you and I could…figure things out."

Snape's lips curled upward with the slightest hint of a smile as he reached for the paper again. "I must confess it sometimes feels good to have been wrong about someone. Good for him."

Harry considered him as he refilled his cup. Oh well, he thought, now's as good a time as any. Since we're a roll of clearing the slate….

"I understand why you didn't tell us," he said conversationally, watching as Snape once again set the paper aside, a look of resignation on his face.

"So you've said," Snape answered, crossing his arms.

"But I want you to know that I understand what you were doing." Harry narrowed his eyes. "You had to know that not telling us just pushed us further— manipulation of a different sort. I actually believe there's a word for it. Passive-aggressive, isn't it?"

Snape looked as if he'd been caught with his hand in the till. "True. But there came a time when I decided to stop."

"When?"

"When I saw what you and Draco were becoming…friends, and, I suspected, more. I decided to let it all go."

Harry was skeptical. "Live your life in a painting, bottled up in Draco's mind?"

Snape shrugged. "I'd had my chance at life, and believed you should have yours. Both of you."

This was the delicate part, Harry sensed. "But then you changed your mind again. Why?" he pushed.

Looking decidedly pained, Snape told him, "You recall your drunken profession, what you wished for me?" He traced a finger along the edge of the table. "From that moment on, I began to wish it for myself as well. I watched the two of you as you worked things out, and began to believe, even, that you just might pull it off, but still…I would've easily accepted it had you not. Until…." he paused, then looked away abruptly, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he continued to run his hand along the edge of the table.

"Until…what?" Harry could tell that this was difficult for Snape, but knew that it had to be out in the open, and soon.

Snape's eyes drifted up to his, his face a picture of confusion. "You read your poem. Then…I was almost desperate for you to succeed."

"My poem…." Harry murmured, unsurprised. "How did it make you feel," he dared to ask gently. It was only fair; after all, hadn't Snape dared to ask Harry similar things, delving into his feelings with his bloody questions?

For a moment Snape seemed to grope for words. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, then repeated the cycle again. Harry realized suddenly that the man had most likely never had such a conversation once in his sorry life.

"Like I wanted to walk in the grass again," Snape hesitated, his eyes with a far away look, "…feel the wind in my hair…read all the books in the world…touch someone's skin with my fingers…have a life," he finished, almost in a whisper.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and let the warm, satisfied feeling wash over him, that words he'd penned had made Snape feel such things, let alone voice them. When he opened his eyes again, Snape was staring at him strangely, stroking his lower lip with his thumb.

"And what about me…wasn't I in there somewhere?" Harry ventured to ask, knowing that he was right, but still…still afraid that he was wrong, that he'd somehow misread him.

Snape pressed his lips together, then sighed, "Of course, you were. At the very top of the list. Once I realized that you and Draco were just…."

"Just sex?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

It was more than Harry'd allowed himself to hope. He felt as if a sizable weight had suddenly lifted from his chest. They had miles to go, though, before they slept…especially since Snape seemed slightly dazed by the turn their conversation had taken. Small steps, Harry thought, small steps….

"I'm sorry about your bat."

Smiling, Snape seemed relieved. "Don't be. It was my Horcurx, did you know? As I was sufficiently remorseful by the time you…did what you did, the dark ritual destroyed both it and poor Bat."

"Ah." Harry eyed him with amusement, taking advantage to snag the Prophet. "You owe me, big-time," he murmured, then smiled when Snape rolled his eyes.

CHAPTER TEN