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Harry strolled through the alley. He’d used muggle dye to turn his hair russet brown. It wouldn’t respond to magic or potions, but muggle dyes and hair products worked fine. He wore it slightly longer than he had, and with the help of two different products the curls lay quiet to his shoulders.
The Magical World was rebuilding.
He smiled, and walked past the apothecary, past Flourish and Blotts, past the quidditch shop. A tension that had lived about his shoulders from his fourth year slowly eased.
He slipped into the ice cream parlor. It had seen some of the worst of the war, when Fortescue had disappeared, but the awning was unfurled, the tables were set out, and even Fortescue himself was back behind the counter.
“Mr. Fortescue!” Harry hurried forward to shake the man’s hand. “Welcome back. It’s good to see you again.”
The man didn’t react as Harry had expected. He raised a single eyebrow and smirked. “And it’s good to see you, as well, Mr. Potter.”
“You recognized me?” Harry’s shoulders slumped. “I put on robes and everything.” He gestured to his hair and his ‘disguise.’ People hadn’t often seen a well-dressed Harry Potter. He’d been hoping to fly under the radar.
“Indeed.”
Something sparked in Harry’s memory. As if of their own accord, his head slowly raised and his eyes sought the dark pair in front of him. “Sir?” He breathed.
“Go sit down, Potter. I shall bring you your usual sundae.”
Long accustomed to obeying that voice, Harry moved to sit, but turned to glance again over his shoulder, unwilling to let the man out of sight for long.
He slid into one of the booths, keeping a wall at his back and “Fortescue” in sight, and started running through his interactions with the man. Third year. He hadn’t really gotten to know him well until before third year when he’d sat here doing his summer homework.
Snape had seemed less horrible that year, at least until the end of it anyway, and he’d worked hard to protect Harry, too. Was that what this was all about? It made sense that “Fortescue” would disappear after Voldemort had come into the open. Snape would have needed all his spare time to balance between his two roles in the war.
A bowl of strawberry and peanut butter ice cream slid in front of him. “Have you worked it out yet?” The voice carried a hint of fondness as well as the usual sardonic tones.
“I think so,” Harry replied, scooting over to the man could sit. “But why not let everybody know? Why keep hiding?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Snape eyed his odd hairstyle.
“I hate them.” Harry muttered. “The gaping ridiculous crowds of people, the reporters, the gratitude . It makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Just so,” Severus smiled at him. “Additionally, I did not fancy a trip to Azkaban, had your efforts on my behalf been unsuccessful.”
Harry blushed. “You, ah—you knew about that?”
“Harry.”
“Right.”
They fell into an awkward, but not uncomfortable, silence. “When did you—?” Harry gestured around him at the ice cream parlor.
“After your first year, I knew Voldemort would return one day. I knew some of what Dumbledore would expect of me, and I thought having a back-up no one knew about would be worthwhile.” He shrugged. “I approached Florean about purchasing the shop, and we reached a deal.”
“But you’re Florean,” Harry protested. “Polyjuice?”
“No, did you ever meet the man before the summer after your first year?” Harry shook his head, and Severus nodded. “I began then, and he told everyone I was his nephew, and named for him. By the next summer, people just accepted it, and I became Fortescue. I wear a glamour, obviously.”
Harry marveled at the Magical World’s ability to ignore the obvious.
“And, you like it?” He tilted his head. “I mean, it’s not exactly potions.”
Severus laughed. “I enjoy making ice cream, tweaking the recipes, finding the right flavors.” He looked pointedly at Harry’s empty bowl.
“It’s good!” Harry protested.
“If you say so,” Severus chuckled. “I still brew potions, mainly in my free time. It’s liberating, if you want to know. Not having to brew and re-brew basic-level potions, watching adolescents botch even the simplest of recipes. I’ve actually found a renewed passion for experimentation and development.”
“You were a bastard, Snape, but you were the best.” Harry grinned, knowing he hadn’t caused any offense. “And your book helped me more than any other I’ve ever read. I wish I could return it to you. It burned up in the Room of Requirement.”
Severus nodded. “Probably for the best. It was part of a life I no longer live.”
Another customer came in, and Severus got to his feet.
Harry reached out and grabbed his hand before he could leave. “W—would you mind—I mean. Is it okay if I—“
“Spit it out.” Severus’s eyes flashed.
“Can I come visit again?”
Severus’ face softened slightly, and Harry thought he saw a smile. “I’d like that.”
Harry grabbed his courage with both hands, reminding himself he was a Gryffindor. He stood, just a little too close to Severus, and lifted their still-joined hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of Severus’ hand, and then grinned. “Till next time, then. My Prince.”
Severus blushed, and Harry could almost see behind the glamour to the man he’d once been so obsessed with. “Get out of here, Potter,” he muttered. “I’m free next Monday.”
It had been a horrific war. The Magical World had come close to collapse several times, thousands had died, and many more thousands still mourned. Life-changing injuries had ruined people’s future hopes. Disillusionment and devastation had reigned for two years of open war.
But the two men who had given everything, including their lives, to putting it back together, spent the rest of that day with a small smile hovering about their lips.