Hello there, people of the internet! I'm still alive! Things have changed and I have changed but guess what- I'm trying my hardest to pick this story up again, although truth be told, I'm stuck. I still figured, well, I might as well give you what I have so far, so after a long hiatus, I proudly present- a new chapter! I wonder if there are any original readers still around after all these years. If so, cheers to all of you, thanks for sticking with me for so long!

A week passed, and still Harry had not returned. He was unable to verbalise exactly why, and yet he refused to go back. His former Gryffindor dorm-mates had welcomed his arrival enthusiastically. The disadvantage was, of course, that the whole of Gryffindor Tower now knew of his falling out with Snape. Rumours and whispers were once again his steady companion on his walks through castle. Ron was threatening people three times a day and only Hermione's intervention had stopped both Harry and Ron from hexing Pansy Parkinson as she speculated loudly about why exactly Snape had thrown Harry out.

Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons were the worst; no matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop himself from following Snape's movement across the classroom, noticing his smooth glide, his long legs and his large hands... Even worse, Harry was sure that Snape knew that he was watching him, which made him loathe the man even more.

He did hate him, Harry thought, as he forced his books back into his bag, after another lesson of being painfully ignored by Snape. After what he had done, the man was lucky that Harry hadn't petitioned for a divorce- on grounds of murder...

"Harry?" Hermione asked timidly, as he was prone to snap at any and every one after their Defence lessons. "Ron and I wanted to go to the library after dinner, are you coming?"

Judging by the look on Ron's face, it had not been his idea.

"Yeah," Harry said gloomily. "I'll come with you. 'S not like I have anything better to do."

Hermione pursed her lips, but didn't say anything, for which Harry was grateful. As they went down for dinner, Harry gazed down the corridor he usually had to turn to go home-

Home. He hadn't been there since he snuck inside to get Leila and a few of his possessions when he knew Snape had lessons. For a split second, he hesitated. Then, despite himself, he found himself turning down the familiar corridor.

"Harry? Mate, where are you going?" Ron sounded bewildered.

"I'll catch up with you," Harry said distractedly, already speeding up his gait. "I- I just realised I forgot something."

"Harry-"

He turned around the corner. Soon, he found himself standing in front of the door of Severus' office, heart pounding. Harry cautiously put his hand on the door and listened. Surely, Severus would be at dinner now-

He opened the door and cautiously peered inside. Snape's office looked same as ever. It was deserted. Harry silently closed the door behind him and proceeded further on, towards their shared rooms. As he entered their sitting room, he was struck by how familiar they looked to him. There, draped across the chair of his desk, was his spare cloak and a few pieces of parchment, his favourite quill and some cards scattered across his desk. His old schoolbooks stood on the shelves between Snape's tomes. The two armchairs in front of the fireplace painfully reminded Harry of their shared evenings in front of the fire. He stood forlorn in the middle of the room, looking around. It still smelled the same and why shouldn't it- with a pang, he realised he had been gone only 5 days, so why did it feel so much longer since he last had been here?

Harry entered their bedroom and sat down on his side of the bed, brooding. How could someone like Snape, who had willingly sacrificed his parent's lives for the approval of Voldemort, have taken him to bed, touched him as a lover- Harry's fists clenched and blood pounded in his ears at the very thought. And yet, as always completely unbidden, the image of Snape flinging himself in front of Ron, Hermione and himself to protect them from Voldemort flashed in front of his eyes. Snape, laughing quietly at something Harry said. Snape, lying beside him in bed, his hair in disarray. Severus, holding him at the ball, gazing at Harry with that look in his eyes- Harry rested his head in his hands.

Hermione looked up as Harry joined them at the table.

"So?" Hermione asked, an expectant look in her eye.

"So what?" Harry sat and started piling potatoes onto his plate.

"Did you talk to him?"

"How could he, git 's right there," Ron remarked from her other side, liberally coating his potatoes in bacon grease.

Hermione's head whipped around as she surveyed the head table. "Oh. Of course." Harry and Ron exchanged a smirk over the top of her head.

"So are you going to talk to him?"

Harry huffed; of course it would have been too much to ask of her to let the topic rest. He poked his food. "I don't know."

"Well, you realise you're going to have to," she said in a sensible tone, turning back to her own plate.

"Why should he!" Ron demanded loudly, and Harry and Hermione both shushed him.

"Why should he," Ron said again in an angry whisper. "He betrayed Harry's parents!"

"Yes, and that was a horrible thing to do, but right now, the two of them are married and Harry has to protect him, don't you, Harry?"

"What if Harry doesn't want to protect him anymore?"

"Oh, of course Harry still wants to-"

"Harry's right here, you know," Harry remarked dryly, not lifiting his eyes from his food. He could always become a food decorator, if that thing with being an auror didn't work out. He would have to ask Dobby how the house elves always cut the fruit in such fancy shapes before serving it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione turned her back on Ron, who scowled, "but you can't tell me you don't care for him, no matter what he did 16 years ago."

"Maybe I don't," Harry said defiantly. "Maybe I don't give a rat's arse about what happens to him."

Hermione tried to disguise her scoff as a cough, but Harry heard it nonetheless. Thankfully, she let the topic drop.

Later on, they sat scribbling at the fire in the common room, Ron struggling with his purgative potions essay while Hermione neatly transcribed something from her Ancient Runes book. Harry doodled on the piece of parchment on which he was supposed to be penning down his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework- six ways of identifying coercion charms and an two-foot essay on how to counter them. Harry added some finishing touches to his snitch, satisfied. Bored, and ignoring Hermione's disapproving huff, he reached across the table and pulled a discarded Prophet towards him, rifling through it hopefully. Unfortunately, the sports section was missing, so Harry flipped through it, not really reading until a picture caught his eye. In the upper right corner of the article, the tiny figure tried to hide just outside the picture, but Harry still recognized it as a shot of himself from the Triwizard Tournament last year. In the lower left corner a tall image of Severus folded his arms and scowled at the letters surrounding him, as though annoyed about being published, in the society section no less.

Flowing, curvy letter arched above the article:

Potter-Snape-affair: Dawning divorce? Rumoured falling-out between the Chosen One, Harry Potter and his partner, accused Death-Eater and self-proclaimed spy Severus Snape

Despite himself, Harry's gaze was drawn to the first few lines of the first paragraph.

Love is in the air- or not, as in the case of heart-throb Harry Potter, who crushed the hopes of witches and wizards alike last fall with his unannounced and scandalous marriage to none other than the infamous Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School and once-suspected Death-Eater. Despite their intriguing entrance into their liaison, now clouds seem to mar Harry's sunny disposition- insiders from within the school report that Harry Potter and his plus one have hit roadblock along the way.

"They used to be inseparable", a close friend confided us in. "They'd always be talking and holding hands- but now Harry doesn't even sleep at their place anymore!" In fact, as several independent sources have confirmed, it seems Harry Potter has been avoiding his private chambers and decided instead on sleeping back in his former dorm. Or perhaps our Harry has finally seen sense? "In my opinion, Severus never was good enough for Harry," Colin Baker, a class-mate and comrade states, "you should hear how he talks to him! No wonder Harry's had enough, I told him he's better off without Snape." So, as the divorce lawyers are already sharpening their quills at the ministry, it comes as no surprise that perhaps Harry has decided to cast his eyes on someone more suitable-

"Harry?" Ron's worried voice broke Harry's concentration. He follwed Ron's pointed gaze and realized his hands were shaking. How dare they! How dare they make assumptions about what had happened between them!

"I've already had a word with Colin," Hermione said sympathetically. "If he doesn't want to wake up and have Bubotuber Pus in his shoes, he won't be giving any more interviews to the Prophet."

"Who is this Colin? You know what, never mind." Harry flung the paper into the fire. "They'd just love for us to split up, wouldn't they? Like vultures, waiting for their prey to die. They can't wait." He watched the bright flames erupt from the embers and turn the paper to ashes. A group of third-year girls threw him a wary look and muttering, retreated towards the dormitories.

"The Prophet has turned as out bad as Witch Weekly lately," Hermione agreed, returning to her notes.

"And how would you know that?" Ron asked, amused. "I thought you didn't like that gossiping rag."

"I don't," Hermione answered, cheeks slightly pink. "But Lavender left her copy lying around in our room and Harry was on the cover so I-"

"The front cover?" Harry interrupted, swivelling around to look at her.

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. Ron patted his back. "Cheer up, mate. At least no one thinks you're bonkers, this time!"

"No, this is even worse, everyone thinks I've come to my senses!"

Ron clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "Well, they don't know you like we do. We'd never think you've seen sense!"

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said drily, but found he was smiling anyways. He stared at the smouldering rests of the newspaper before Ron bumped his arm lightly.

"Anyway, Harry, what about Slughorn's memory?" Both Ron and Hermione watched as Harry carefully extracted the small golden bottle Harry had won in Slughorn's first class.

"You're still planning on going through with this then?" Ron eyed the bottle apprehensively. Harry hesitated, then nodded.

"Might at least get something done," He said grimly, breaking the wax seal and pulling out the cork stopper. "Reckon half is enough?"

"If you only need a few hours," Hermione dropped her to a whisper, casting a nervous look around the deserted room. "But, Harry, are you sure about this?"

"Hermione, can you think of anything that is more important than getting the memories from Slughorn?" Harry shot back. Hermione bit her lip, but shook her head. Raising the small vial in a mock toast, Harry carefully swallowed a few mouthfuls. The golden liquid flowed smoothly down his throat, crisp and sweet. He waited, Ron's and Hermione's eyes glued to his face.

Later, as Harry darted down the garden path towards the greenhouses, Felix Felicis guiding his steps. He slowed down as he heard approaching footsteps and crouched despite the invisibility cloak.

"It has been a difficult week," a voice floated through the air and Harry recognized Dumbledore's timbre.

"Has your arm been troubling you, headmaster?"

Harry's heart sped up as the two men rounded the corner- why would Felix guide him here, to Snape, whom he wanted to see least of all?

"None more than usual," Dumbledore answered and Harry saw him examine withered hand. "What will happen is unavoidable. You know that as well as I do. The only thing to be done is to put the time we have left to good purpose. And to savour it as much as we can." The moonlight glinted off Dumbledore's spectacles as he turned towards Snape.

"Please spare me the hints, Albus," Snape answered wearily. "I refuse to apologize for telling the boy the truth."

Dumbledore sighed. "The truth is a complex matter. But alas, yet we depend so much on deciphering it. I have faith that Harry will reach the right conclusion in the end."

"It is in his rights not to be. I am positive I would have never been forgiving in his place. I would never say that I have earned forgiveness. There are debts that cannot be repaid."

Gravel crunched beneath their feet as the leisurely strolled down the garden path. "That has never been my belief. To recognize evil and admit past mistakes takes great courage. In trying to repair the damage done and toiling towards a better end, you have proven yourself to be worthy of respect, as well as admiration and yes, my dear boy, even love." A small smile played around the corner of Dumbledore's mouth as his beard swayed in the breeze.

"Perhaps," Snape remarked, yet the moonlight cast deep shadows over his face. "Should your faith not prove true, I trust in you to take matters into your own hands."

"I can only serve with one, I'm afraid," Dumbledore answered mildly and Harry held his breath as they passed Harry, who fought the urge to press himself deeper into the shrubbery. "Nevertheless, I shall endeavour to assist you best I can. How is it that you need my help?"

"Should Potter- Harry, decide to- dispose of our current arrangement," Snape's voice came haltingly, as though deliberating every word, "I cannot allow myself to be taken captive, nor do I wish to fall prey to the Dark Lord's fury. I trust in you to do what must be done."

Abruptly, Dumbledore halted. "Severus-"

"We have no choice." Snape's voice cut through the night air. "There is no other way, or do you have another spare boy protected by the old magic somewhere inside those robes?"

"The Draught of Living Death-"

"Can not be used indefinitely. Do not play the fool, Albus. This is the last thing I will ever ask of you. I find the notion of taking manners into my own hands quite distasteful, yet if you should force me- Please, Albus."

For a long moment, Dumbledore stood still and Harry watched the two men gaze at each other, unmoving. Then Dumbledore's shoulders slumped and Harry saw Snape exhale. Suddenly, clarity of what they were talking about hit him, all but shocking him out of his Felix-induced trance.

"Considering what I might have to ask of you- However, I do not believe you death will be necessary. Harry will not let it come that far."

"Perhaps. But if it will?"

Another breath of silence. "Then I shall do my duty." For once, Harry imagined he could hear every one of the past years of Dumbledore's life in his voice.

"Thank you," Snape said, and Harry could hear he spoke from the heart. As he stood there, frozen and watching the two men continue their walk, it seemed to him as though that burden had been added to the headmaster's shoulders, which were now bowed as they disappeared.

Harry staggered down the path, Felix taking over his steps again. His head was still reeling from what he had heard. Severus would not die! He couldn't! But as the luck potion pushed his steps further to the greenhouses, Harry felt his attention slip towards the task at hand.