Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Written for; Stickers; Magical Being; Centaur - Location, Forbidden Forest.

Word count without AN - 356

Spirit of the Forest

"Potter? What are you doing out here?"

Harry turned to find Severus walking towards him, a basket resting on his arm.

"It's a nice night," Harry replied quietly.

"You couldn't appreciate the 'niceness' from the grounds. There's a reason the forest is forbidden, after all."

Nodding, Harry sighed. "The creatures in here don't hurt me. I'm pretty sure they're used to me being here."

"You come here a lot then?" Severus asked, with a put upon look on his face. "Really, Potter, i thought your misbehaving was going to be over when you ceased being a student here."

Harry snorted. "What are you going to do, Severus, put me in detention?"

"I'm the headmaster. I could, you know?"

"I wonder if Dumbledore ever thought of putting his teachers in detention," Harry mused.

He laughed aloud when Severus glared at him. "He did. I suffered more than one because of you being a brat."

Raising his eyebrow, Harry shook his head. "Are you sure he wasn't just bored of you complaining about me?"

"Probably."

"What are you out searching for?" Harry asked, nodding to the basket. "Anything I can help with?"

"Unicorn hair," Severus replied. "It snags on the branches occasionally."

Harry nodded. "Come with me."

He led Severus deeper into the forest, until they arrived at a clearing. It looked like a meadow, and Severus blinked when he saw two unicorn laying down in the far corner. Harry nodded to the tree's rounding the clearing, and Severus could see the hairs gleaming on the branches.

He collected them quickly, filling his basket. There were more than enough for his experiments.

"Thank you," he murmured to Harry, who nodded serenely before he guided them back to the edge of the forest.

"Potter… I -"

"I'm here often, Professor, should you ever need any help. Just call out for me, I'll hear you."

Before Severus could say anything else, Harry faded away in front of his eyes. He sighed to himself before he headed back up to the school.

He knew he'd come back. He always did. There was something about Potter that drew him, even in his death.