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If anyone had bothered to look outside through one of the smashed windows just minutes after Voldemort fell, they would have seen a dark figure running full pelt across the grass towards the Whomping Willow. They would have also seen the figure’s arm outstretched, and if they’d looked close enough, they may have seen a small object flying into a raised palm.
If anyone had been interested in the grounds of Hogwarts, instead of being preoccupied with finding out who had survived the fight, they’d have seen that same figure walk back towards the castle carrying another. They would have been able to track him right across the grounds, and had they followed him, right up the stairs to the fourth floor infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey was the only one to witness the most powerful healing charm ever seen, the snake bite on the patient's neck disappearing in front of her eyes, despite her knowing and understanding the sheer impossibility of what she was seeing.
“He’s probably going to need antivenom for a while. I’m sure Nagini pumped plenty into him when she bit him,” Harry said, his green eyes shining fiercely down at Hogwarts Headmaster.
“I… am surprised that you would like him to be treated at all,” she admitted.
“He killed Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders,” Harry replied, shortly. “And considering the amount of times he’s saved my life, I think I owed him this one.”
She nodded hesitantly. “I’ll make sure that he gets the potions he needs. You should get some rest, Harry. I imagine it’s been a long few days for you, if even half of the rumours are true.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I think a long seven years is more apt, but you’re right. I do need to get some rest. I’ll be seeing you, Madam Pomfrey.”
As she watched Harry walk out of the Hospital Wing, she had no idea just how long it would be before he graced Hogwarts with his presence again.
…
Harry looked up at a tapping on his window, only to sigh when he saw a familiar owl clutching a scroll in its beak. He got up and let the owl in, taking the scroll that was insistently pressed into his hand, and then watched as the owl flew to where it knew water and treats would be presented.
It was a ritual done time and again, and the owl seemed to know that it would not be expected to take anything back in return to its owner.
Harry gave the owl its expected treats and then tapped the scroll against his hand, taking a seat at his desk. He used a letter opener to slice through the wax seal and unscrolled it with unconcealed interest.
He’d received many owls over the last year from Hogwarts’ Headmaster. Each time it was a guessing game as to whether the letter would be a polite request for a meeting, or an unsubtle demand for Harry to stop being an idiot and visit him immediately.
Flattening the parchment out, Harry read the letter, his lips tilting up slightly in a small smile. It seemed that Snape was in somewhat of a good mood; it was a longer letter than usual, giving Harry tidbits about the other teachers, finishing with a casual invitation to visit the castle, now that the repairs were almost finished following the final battle that had almost torn the castle apart.
The letters weren’t often so conversational, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder who had offered Snape advice on Harry’s lack of willingness to see his once hated Potions Professor.
Not that it would help. While Harry appreciated that he probably did owe Snape an explanation, he wasn’t going to see the man. There was just too much at stake.
…
“He’s taken to staying at the Ministry Balls until the very end,” Hermione said, sipping her drink. “I think he’s got some kind of misinformation that you turn up the moment he leaves.”
Harry snorted and shook his head. “I’m surprised that he thinks it would be that simple. He’s only torturing himself by spending more time there than absolutely necessary. He’s not the only reason I don’t attend them.”
“He even asked Ron about your whereabouts,” she added, and Harry choked on his ginger ale.
“What did Ron do?”
“Spluttered that it was none of his business and then fled to the other side of the room to hide,” she giggled. “He was horrified.”
“I’ll bet.” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry that everyone seems to be getting dragged into this. I just can’t—”
“I know. We all understand, Harry. I do still think that you should just tell him about it, though. He’s got the right to make his own decision about this, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” Harry replied, shrugging. “I think he’d still demand to see me, even if he knew. He’ll martyr himself so that I won’t be alone, or some such rot. People call me self-sacrificing, but I’ve got nothing on him.”
“You could be right,” she agreed, with a sigh of her own. “Still, the magical world is a small place. You’re going to run into him eventually, Harry.”
“Maybe,” Harry replied. “But maybe not. Besides, I don’t spend that much time in the ‘wizarding parts’ of Britain anymore, and nobody—apart from you and Ron—knows where I live.”
“Even if they did, they wouldn’t get past the wards,” Hermione pointed out.
“Exactly.”
“We’re concerned about you becoming a hermit,” Hermione admitted. “You can’t just hide away behind your wards for the rest of your life, Harry.”
“No,” he agreed. “Just until Snape gives up.”
…
You will cease and desist this ridiculously childish refusal to speak with me, Mr Potter. You’ve never been scared to face me—and things much worse—before, so what on earth could compel you to fear me now?
SS
Harry threw the parchment down on the desk. It joined a steadily growing pile. The letters had been coming on the hour, every hour, each with a different bird that Harry suspected were from the Hogwarts Owlery.
Picking up a quill, Harry picked up a fresh piece of parchment. He was tired of ignoring the letters, and he… he didn’t want Snape to think that he’d done anything wrong. He hadn’t.
It was just a case of… well, Harry wasn’t truly sure, but he thought that perhaps if he answered a letter, he could get the questions out of the way, and Snape would be happy enough with that.
At this point, it was worth a try.
Dear Headmaster Snape,
I’m sorry. I should have replied earlier, and I realise that. I’m just not entirely sure what it is that you’re looking for. You’ve never been so eager to see or speak to me before, and given that the war is over, and our jobs are well and truly done, I honestly thought that you’d be grateful to see the back of me.
To answer some of the questions in your more recent missives; I’m well, healthy and relatively mentally stable. I’m not scared of you, and you’ve done nothing wrong. If I still thought that you were a guilty man, I wouldn’t have spoken up for you at the trial.
I’m glad that you’re free to live the rest of your life in peace.
Your insistence that we meet face-to-face is unnecessary. I fully believe that everything that needed to be said has been said, and then some.
If you feel that I owe you for the times that you’ve saved my life, well, you’ll get no argument from me. If you’d let me know what you want in reparation, I’ll do my best to ensure that you receive it in a timely manner.
I can’t come to Hogwarts, and I can’t see you.
I’m sorry.
Harry Potter
Harry laid the quill down and stared at the parchment for a long moment before he scrolled it up and bound it with wax. He tied it with a silk ribbon, and then securely fastened it to the last Hogwarts owl that had arrived.
“Take this to Severus Snape, please,” he murmured, stroking the owl briefly. He watched it hop across the desk, and then crossed to the window to watch it soar away.
He stayed there long after it had gone.
…
Mr Potter,
I still fail to understand why you will not meet with me. Your letter was drastically unsatisfying in the way of answers, and I shall not cease trying to contact you until you agree to see me.
In the meantime, allow me to answer your letter, you indescribable fool.
You profess a lack of fear of me, and yet, still refuse to see me. There is an inherent contradiction in that alone, and your certainty that I’ve done no wrong is undoubtedly proof that you are not, in fact, mentally stable.
As for saving your life… you owe me nothing, Potter. It’s not about that.
If you do not wish to return to the school, then I will accept that. I’d be willing to come to you, or even meet with you somewhere neutral, if you would prefer that.
You’re hiding something from me, Mr Potter.
I will find out what it is.
Severus Snape
“As you can see, replying to his letters didn’t do much good in dissuading him,” Harry said, when Ron and Hermione had finished reading the last letter Snape had sent him, the one in response to his own.
“You should tell him,” Ron said, putting the letter down on the table. “Tell him by letter, and that way, if he wants nothing to do with you, it’s his choice. At least that way, you’d be free to leave the house whenever you want.”
“It’s not like I never leave the house, Ron,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “I go out plenty.”
“Only during the daytime when you know he’s busy at school. Never in the evenings, and never on the weekends. Hell, mate, you didn’t even come to Mum’s birthday party because George let slip that Dad invited Snape.”
“Ron’s right, Harry,” Hermione said, her tone soft. “You can’t keep living like this.”
Harry just sighed and slumped back in his seat. “I’ll think about it.”
…
When it happened, at first, Harry hadn’t been sure what it was. When he’d healed Snape from the injuries Nagini had inflicted upon him, only the Elder wand had been capable of performing such magic.
Harry wasn’t sure how he’d known that, but he had. Being the ‘Master of Death’ had been his best guess as to how he’d known what to do, and how he’d been able to save the man at all.
When he’d done it, with one hand on Snape’s chest and the wand in his other hand, for just the briefest of moments, Snape had opened his eyes.
It had felt like a punch to the chest, and for a while, Harry had believed that it was probably just the strength of the magic he’d cast. He’d hidden the stone, put the cloak away, and for the most part, he’d gone back to using his phoenix wand, though he did keep the elder wand on his person at all times.
Harry didn’t particularly enjoy being the Master of Death, but he’d realised that even if he didn’t keep the Hallows, he’d already united them.
He’d already committed to his fate.
It was a little while after that when he’d realised that the punch in his chest had left an odd sensation behind. It felt like a weight on his chest, but it felt incomplete, like it was a hanging string.
A little research—okay, a lot of research—and many conversations with Ron and Hermione later, and Harry had accepted that he was one of the few who’d actually managed to find his soulmate.
Severus Snape was his soulmate.
For some reason though, the bond was incomplete, and they’d surmised that it was because Snape hadn’t actually been mentally aware when he’d opened his eyes. Once that had been realised, Harry had decided that he wasn’t ever going to see the man.
He wouldn’t bind Snape to yet another person that he didn’t want to be bound to. The man had done more than earn his freedom, and Harry wouldn’t be the one to take that away from him.
…
Thinking about it constantly didn’t get Harry anywhere, and, on a whim, he booked an international portkey to Spain. Ron and Hermione had been right about one thing; Harry was missing his own freedom to go out whenever he wanted.
His friends weren’t particularly happy that he was ‘running away’ instead of facing the problem at hand, but they understood that he needed some time, and honestly, after everything they had all been through, Harry deserved some time out.
From Spain, he went to Greece, and then Turkey, before he switched continents and travelled first through Japan, and then he hopped again to Australia and New Zealand.
Seeing the world, learning about the different cultures—both muggle and wizading—and different magic, had made Harry feel alive again, and though he did return home to Britain occasionally to see his friends, Harry found that he enjoyed travelling, and he decided to keep it up.
Whenever he was back in England, Snape inevitably found out about it and the letters and attempts to seek him out began again, but Harry managed to avoid him well enough.
As tiring as it was, he still stood by his decision that it was the right path.
He wouldn’t trap Snape. Not after the life he’d lived, after the masters he’d served.
It wasn’t fair.
…
Harry,
You have to come home. Professor McGonagall is ill, and she’s asked to see you again before she… before she dies.
I love you, and I know that you don’t want to face him, but you have to, Harry. This is more important.
Hermione
…
Hogwarts looked as magnificent as it always had. Harry walked up the sloping grassy hills towards the main doors, flanked on either side by Ron and Hermione, as he always was when anything important in his life happened.
It had been almost eight years since the last time he’d seen the castle, and he couldn’t help the slight smile that lifted his lips, even though he was there for such a sad reason.
“You know that you look insane, right?” Ron asked, glancing at him.
Harry snorted. “It’s the only thing that I could think of. Bonds are made by touch and eye contact. I’m just… hedging my bets.”
“Sunglasses and gloves though, mate?”
“You got any better ideas?”
“I do, as it happens,” Ron replied. “You could let him know the truth and then move on. You do realise that soulmate bonds aren’t—”
“He’d never be able to see anyone else,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You’re right that it wouldn’t force him to be with me, but it would make me his only option. It’s still taking away part of his freedom.”
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione hushed him, nodding to the doors when they both looked at her.
Harry wasn’t particularly surprised to see Snape standing by the doors, waiting on them.
Waiting on him.
“Mr Weasley, Miss Granger,” he greeted softly, when they reached the steps. He tilted his head as he looked at Harry. “Mr Potter.”
“Headmaster,” Harry returned, quietly. “Where is Professor—”
“She’s in her personal chambers. She refused to remain in the Hospital Wing when it became clear that there was nothing more that Poppy could do for her,” Snape interrupted. “She’s expecting you.”
Harry swallowed hard but nodded his head. He glanced at his friends. “I’ll meet you both out here when I’ve… afterwards.”
They nodded, having already seen their old Head of House in the days prior, and Hermione reached out to squeeze his gloved hand. He returned the squeeze before he turned back to the castle and slipped in through the open door.
Snape followed behind him, as Harry had known he would, but he didn’t speak and when Harry knocked on the door and heard McGonagall’s voice—frailer than he’d ever heard it—call for him to come in, Snape remained outside the door when it closed behind Harry.
Harry removed the sunglasses and gloves as he edged towards the bed. Poppy was sitting with her, and she stood to greet Harry with a tight hug before she left them alone.
Harry sat down in the chair she’d departed and looked at Professor McGonagall. She’d been one of the strongest, fiercest women he’d ever known, and she looked so small in the bed.
Gone was the tight bun, instead her hair fell loose around her head, thin and greying. She looked like she’d aged thirty years since he’d last seen her.
“Harry,” she murmured, softly. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”
Harry smiled sadly. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I stayed gone so long.”
“Tell me of your travels,” she requested.
Harry did so, telling her of the magic he’d seen and learnt, and the spectacular views he’d seen, and the people he’d met. She seemed to enjoy listening to him, and she asked questions, urging him on.
When she seemed to be falling asleep, Harry trailed off.
“You’ll have to excuse me, dear. I seem to tire ever so easily these days.”
Harry nodded. “It’s okay. I’m glad that I was able to come and see you.”
She smiled at him and reached out her hand. Harry held it gently between both of his own, and she squeezed as hard as she was able. “I need you to do something for me, Harry.”
“Anything,” he promised.
“I need you, when you’re ready, to come home to Hogwarts. Severus, he needs someone to challenge him, and with me no longer here… I fear that he’ll sink even further into himself than he already has. Pomona and Filius just don’t have the nature to challenge him, not the way I could, not the way you can.”
“I…”
“Promise me, Harry.”
Harry sighed, and then, he nodded. “I promise.”
…
Harry wiped the tears from his eyes before he slid the sunglasses back on, and pulled the gloves on to cover his hands. Professor McGonagall had fallen asleep, and it was time for him to leave.
He slipped out of her quarters as quietly as he could and found Poppy talking to Snape in the corridor outside. When she saw him, she smiled and hugged him again, before she returned back into McGonagall’s room to check on her.
Harry looked at Snape, who was looking right back at him.
“Curious fashion choices you’re making these days, Mr Potter,” he said, when Harry didn’t say anything.
Harry tilted his head. “Did you know why she wanted to see me?” he asked. “Did she tell you?”
Snape shook his head, but Harry could see the curiosity in his eyes. Harry just nodded. He didn’t think that the man would lie to him about that.
Even if he did, Harry didn’t suppose that it would matter.
“I’ll walk you out,” Snape offered, and Harry fell into step beside him, keeping his hands in his pockets. Despite the gloves he wore, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“You know how long I’ve waited to see you,” Snape said. Harry looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And yet, now that you’re here, I find that I do not need to question you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr Potter, tell me, do you believe that I’m a stupid man?”
Harry frowned. “No, of course not.”
“Then you’ll believe me when I say that there are few afflictions that would require you to hide your eyes from me, at the same time as ensuring that our flesh does not meet. You’ll also believe me when I say that I can put two and two together and get four, rather than five.”
Harry’s heart raced in his chest, and he swallowed hard. “Headmaster, I—”
“Thank you, Harry,” Snape murmured. “For wanting me to have the choice. It’s more than many would offer.”
Harry just nodded, and they reached the doors to the grounds in silence. Harry placed his hand on the door, ready to open it, but Snape’s hand above his stopped him in his tracks.
“Take the glasses off.”
“I can’t.”
Snape frowned. “This is my choice, no?”
“But is it?” Harry asked. “Or are you doing this because you think that you should. Because you don’t want me to be alone. You’ve been saving me for my whole life, Headmaster. Is this not just another case of that?”
Snape sighed and then shook his head, but he moved his hand off the door. “When you’re ready then, Harry. Come and see me. Without sunglasses.”
…
Harry stuck around long enough to attend the funeral—wearing glasses once more, but sans gloves this time—before he returned to the Ministry to portkey away, this time to Portugal.
Another two years passed in various countries, with a few visits home, one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding—mixed in.
Snape didn’t contact him, nor did he run into him on his visits, and Harry was grateful for that.
He often thought about Snape’s parting words, that it was Harry that needed the time rather than Snape himself, and he wondered if that wasn’t partially true at least.
He thought about the promise he’d made to his Head of House as well, and he wondered how much McGonagall had known, despite him never telling her why he’d avoided Hogwarts as he had.
He thought, perhaps, she’d been as omniscient as Dumbledore, at least where he was concerned.
Regardless, Harry chose to continue as he was, exploring the world, learning and seeing, until the homesickness brought him back home.
Or until he received an offer he found he couldn’t refuse.
…
Dear Harry,
As Albus found himself saying all too often, Hogwarts is in need of a new Defence Professor. Given your experiences, both in your youth and during your travels, I believe that you would be a perfect fit.
If you’re ready, Hogwarts—and I—would like to welcome you home.
Please reply, even if only to refuse, as soon as possible, to give me the time to find another instructor should you decide that you do not want the position.
And… Harry, please consider it.
It’s been ten years.
Severus
…
“Harry.”
Harry smiled, his eyes meeting Severus’, who was waiting for him at the gates.
“Hi,” he murmured, even as he felt the bond between them solidify. He watched Snape rock slightly on his feet before he reached out a hand for Harry.
Their fingers slid together, and then Harry found himself pressed against a broad chest, strong arms around him.
“Welcome home, Harry.”