Prologue

The snow had mostly melted, but Harry crept outside slowly, edging the door closed behind him so it wouldn't make a creak. He had shoes and a coat on, and he just wanted to look over the winter plants and peek into the greenhouse.

Snape had stopped teaching a half year ago, coincidentally when Harry had graduated from Hogwarts. Harry had gone in the Auror program, and he had set up a small horticulture and herbology business for Snape, mainly to keep the man busy with something to do all day. They spent weekends planting, trimming, and preparing plants for sale. Harry hadn't expected it to be more than hobby, but the owl orders kept coming in and Snape's reputation spread until Snape was fairly busy.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had visited over Christmas break a month ago, and Harry had used the greenhouse as a place to make out with Ginny while Ron and Hermione helped Snape package up mandrake roots. Harry hadn't been brave enough to do more than peek a kiss on her inside the house, but in the privacy of the greenhouse, well . . . he felt less restricted.

Harry rushed into the greenhouse and breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't been caught.

Four days, since Madame Pomfrey had released hum from the hospital wing, four days since they had come back to their house, four days since the end of Voldemort – and Snape had been insufferable. Harry had been prepared for Snape's usual temperament after fights with Voldemort – fussing and austerity in near bipolar fashion of switching back and forth while Harry just had to survive the mood swings. He understood that Snape hated feeling vulnerable, and that included worrying about Harry, whom even after all these years Snape would barely admit he liked.

They had lived together in the house or at Hogwarts for six and a half years, but Snape kept that protective wall up as best he could, snippy and grouchy and cold except in the few moments that Harry caught him unaware. Theirs was an odd relationship, but Harry liked it. Snape gave him something to fight against, to hone his wits, to clash with so he could feel like a normal teenager rather than the out-cast freak of his younger years.

Snape was good for him and he was good for Snape. It gave Harry something to do in the ordinary moments of life – rather than sink into boredom, he had daily challenges like trying to contact Ginny without Snape finding out or sneaking in handfuls of candy undetected – once he had kept a baby snake for a week without Snape finding out (well, he found out eventually when the snake hid in Snape's shoe one morning, but it had still been a whole week of secrecy before the snake had to give away the whole show).

Even at eighteen, there were boundaries to push. Not because he wanted to be a rebel, but because Snape needed to feel needed and that his authority had value. Harry went out of his way to leave coats and shoes in the hall, empty cups in his room, and scraps of paper all over the house just so Snape could storm around, billowing things like, "You are the messiest prat who ever lived. I can't go one day without tripping over your things. I have better things to do than pick up after you, a full-grown man who acts like a blasted toddler."

Then Harry would mutter "Sorry" and pick things up, and Snape would feel guilty over supper, and he would eventually ask Harry about his Auror training, and then they got to spend the evening talking about the best way to fight against the Dark Arts. Tiring, but a good system that Harry had worked out so Snape wouldn't feel too threatened. It was a fine line to walk – letting Snape take care of him while letting Snape slightly bully him while Harry actually took care of Snape.

If Harry acted too beaten and submissive, Snape was all self-loathing and upset that he had broken his adopted son. If Harry was too stubborn and aggressive, Snape retreated into the silence of self-pity, wounded that no one needed him. Often Harry had to switch between the two temperaments several times in one day, just to keep Snape smoothed out.

A hard dance to dance, but someone had to do it.

But good grief – Snape had been dreadful this time. Harry had resigned himself to just endure Snape until the man was done . . . expressing himself. But this – this was something new.

With a shutter, he recalled the torments that he had endured in the last four days, starting with that first morning.