Chapter 21 – Missives and Misconceptions.

"Huh," said Harry as he drew an X through Day 21 of the timetable they had drawn up for their time in the Vacuum Sanctum. They'd stuck it to the front of the "post box" with the delivery slots clearly marked. "We're over a third of the way through our time in here."

Severus Snape considered the young man's tone and found himself completely unsurprised by the disquiet he heard. After all, even though Harry would probably have chosen a different companion for his two month stay, respite from the horrors in his life was no doubt welcome. A little more surprising were Snape's own feelings.

Upon hearing that a third of their allotted time in the Sanctum had passed, Snape didn't feel relief, nor did he feel dread at the amount of time yet to tick by. Instead, he found that he could empathise with Harry's disquiet. How quickly time seemed to move in this place where it was meant to have slowed down. Sixty days had sounded like such a lot of time…

Until recently, Severus Snape would have thought he had spent too much of his life at the end of a leash to ever accept the feeling of being confined. Even at Hogwarts, before the removal of the Dark Mark, he had sometimes found his fairly large rooms to be stifling – it was part of the reason he enjoyed stalking the corridors at all hours. Not that catching the miscreants up to no good (and the resulting point deductions) didn't have appeal.

And yet, even after three weeks in the Sanctum, he found that he had yet to succumb to the dreaded cabin fever that he had been expecting. No doubt, it helped that he had spelled the lights to maintain his and Harry's circadian rhythms. Furthermore, the rigorous structure of their timetable kept them occupied while also allowing plenty of time for rest. Severus discovered that he was rather enjoying that rest, too. His body had been made stronger and healthier than it had been in years, thanks to Harry's Episkey, Roscoe's fitness regime and his own nutrient potions. And his head was clearer without the mark and the pain. Nonetheless, rest was still welcome. A break from teaching, spying, marking, planning, torturing and generally existing as himself was very, very welcome.

Perhaps his disquiet stemmed from the same place that he suspected Harry's did; the world which waited for them was one which neither of them much wanted to face. Perhaps it was because, despite all of Harry's astonishing physical and magical progress, Severus knew the other man was far from recovered. But then, sixty days wasn't ever going to be enough time for such a feat. Indeed, the horrors the man had faced would likely haunt him all his days.

Or perhaps Severus' disquiet came from the fact that this sanctuary – company included – was oddly… nice.

He had been prepared for various eventualities when he had … convinced … Roscoe that he, Severus, should be the one to accompany Harry into the Sanctum, not least of which had been the possibility that he would be locked up on his own with the corpse of his once-student for company.

He hadn't expected to find a sense of peace in here. Nor had he expected to find that Harry Potter was not the worst company one could be stuck with. In fact…

The "post box" chimed, derailing the train of Snape's thoughts. As he shook off what lingered of his reflections, he noticed Harry peering into the post-box and grinning at the larger-than-usual delivery he saw there. As well as their supply of fresh foods and potions, Severus also spotted an envelope addressed to the both of them, a small pile of fiction books that they had requested after their discussion a while ago, and what looked like a cassette player and a few tapes.

The ghost of a greasy potions master sneered in the back of Severus' mind, but closer to the surface, a less bitter man almost smiled at the expression on Harry's face and the promise of some pleasant diversion.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, as he quickly (wandlessly, wordlessly) levitated the goods onto the kitchenette table, before the post box closed again and became inaccessible for another sixty hours. A quick spell later and the food was away, leaving behind the "entertainment". Harry grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. Out fell a few sheets written in an assortment of different handwriting; a quick glance assured him that the missives were nothing to worry about and his heart eased further. Next, he took the small pile of books, grin wide and eyes bright.

"What's the special occasion, do you think?" asked Harry.

Snape thought on it for a moment before answering. "If we have passed more than a third of our time in here, then the same fraction applies beyond the Sanctum. I don't think there is any special occasion other than eight hours have passed beyond these walls. Our acquaintances have no doubt had a little time to finally think beyond the necessities and are now offering niceties."

Harry continued to smile. "Good of them to sit and write when they don't have as much time as we do, eh?"

Severus allowed his eyebrow a sarcastic arch. "One could also suggest that it would ensure for some painfully dull correspondence."

As Harry rolled his eye, Severus picked up the small pile of tapes and glanced through them, but in typical Lloyd Evans style, they lacked track lists or any information other than "Oldies but Goodies", or "Happy Tunes". One was confusingly titled "Movie Training Montage".

"Anything good?" asked Harry.

"Doubtful," Snape replied, passing the tapes to Harry, who snorted a small laugh. Snape turned to study the cassette player itself. The device had been modified with some kind of twirling, silver-coloured antennae which apparently allowed it to work both without a power source and in the vicinity of magic.

Harry looked from the books in one hand to the tapes in his other, then to the timetable for the afternoon. After a second's consideration, he spoke. "I'll make us up a cuppa and some sandwiches; you can choose a tape, and then we can swap our books and read our mail. How does that sound?"

Severus nodded once and allowed the bare twitch of a smile. "That sounds… nice."

Harry's lips pursed wryly, but his eye was mischievous. "Iknow "nice" used to mean "foolish", Sev. You'll have to be more Slytherin if you're hoping to sneakily insult me," he said.

The twitch of Severus' smile could not be controlled at that. He chuckled and shook his head, hoping that he was also hiding his surprise, "When have I ever felt the need to be surreptitious about insulting you, Harry?"

Harry grinned, shrugged and put the kettle on. "Fair point," he said.

"Furthermore… "Sev"?"

Harry grinned. "Serves you right for having too many syllables."

The look in the potions master's eyes was almost pleased, and Harry had to wonder if the man had ever had a pleasant nickname before. He certainly had his share of unpleasant ones, Harry knew.

A short while later, they were sat on the couch. Having read the cover blurbs of the books they had exchanged*, they turned to their mail.

In the background, Nina Simone sang "Feeling Good".

Harry,

Three days, Potter. Three! Bloody! Days! That's how long we've had our little accord, and in that time, you've been the subject and cause of more bloody dramatics than any other Gryffindor could conceivably manage in a decade! Hemlock says at least you don't allow life to get dull. I suppose he has a point. That being said, when you get out of that box, do try to give it a rest, won't you? A small amount of dullness might be a nice change of pace…

Hemlock explained the Sanctum to me and Luna, just as soon as he had repaired his broken nose. (You should ask Severus about that if he hasn't told you… I wager he has not.) It sounds like you'll be spending rather a lot of quality time with my godfather, so I thought I'd offer you a few words of advice.

He's not that bad when you get past the snarky dungeon-bat exterior. Just try not to irritate or bore him too badly. He detests boredom more than he hates a Longbottom near a cauldron. Basically, resist the urge to be a Gryffindor and he might not transfigure you into a pumpkin for the duration of your stay.

Time is shorter here, but we have started a few balls rolling. Hemlock is reaching out to his own network of real purebloods, and Luna is doing something with that coin of hers. She says she will explain tomorrow when you get back. Or in forty days. This time magic is an irksome mess, isn't it?

I am not sorry that you continue to live.

Draco A. Malfoy.

Harry smiled, frowned and then grinned again as he read through Draco's note. The Slytherin had managed to seem concerned and be a tosser all at the same time. It was so… Malfoy.

He glanced up to mention his amusement to Snape, but the twin points of colour on the potions master's cheeks gave him pause. Whatever Severus was reading was making the man blush! Something about that idea made Harry uncomfortable, and he chewed at his own bottom lip.

Instead of sharing Draco's Malfoyness with the man, Harry decided to read the next letter and ignore the odd unease he was suddenly feeling. However, the next sheet was barely written upon in Luna's pretty script.

Harry,

You should talk to him. Ask him about it.

Nobody says the nice things they think about him. Nobody is shy with the not-nice things. Be brave with the nice things, Harry. Be brave with the true things. Nice isn't foolish this time.

I think it was a kewpid after all. It wasn't time then. Now it's two times. One of them might be the right one.

I miss you. Sixty days is a very long time, even when it isn't.

Isn't Draco's hair very pretty?

Love,

x Luna x

Harry's remaining eye went so wide that for a second it seemed at risk of popping out. Was it just him, or was Luna's oddness taking on new depths? It was strange enough when she seemed to be able to read him in his presence, but now she was doing it from a room away beyond the barrier of time itself. It was like she was inside his head.

And what exactly was she saying? Could she really be telling him to be nice to the still-snarky professor? Or was the timing of her comment purely coincidental?

Harry chewed on his lip a little more. Draco had suggested not being a Gryffindor if he wanted to build bridges with Severus. Luna almost seemed to be saying otherwise. Still, she'd never steered him wrong. Even at her weirdest, Luna had a way of hitting the nail on the head.

In the background, Sam Cooke sang "Cupid".

Then there was the bit about "nice" things. Harry could well-imagine that the man was unused to compliments. The man's every action suggested that flattery would be received with scorn at best and acid at worst. Furthermore, the man had aged hard due to myriad slings and arrows, and although Harry had remedied many things, Severus Snape never had been a traditionally handsome man. But while he wasn't handsome, he was something else. Something Harry couldn't name, couldn't think about fully yet.

"You are staring at me, Harry." Snape's voice was both curious and amused.

Harry was pulled from his considerations before he had really come to any conclusion about Luna's letter or Snape. Indeed, he was unsure where his thoughts had been leading him. It seemed Luna had, in typical fashion, played the white bunny and led him down the rabbit-hole.

"Sorry," he said. "Luna has a way of making my mind wander. I was miles away."

Something nameless and barely-there flitted behind coal-black eyes. It passed so quickly that Harry thought he might have imagined it. It seemed that Severus had no response to make, so Harry ventured forth. Both of his friends had offered him advice, though it was contradictory in places. Perhaps there was some way to be brave without being a complete Gryffindor about things.

"Draco wrote me four paragraphs and managed to mention Hemlock in three of them," Harry said. He supposed if he wanted to find out about Snape's letters and what had caused the man to blush, he should start by offering information of his own. Making the man chuckle would just be a pleasant side-effect. "I think our blond Slytherin might have something of a boy-crush."

Severus didn't smile. In fact, he frowned slightly and seemed to consider Harry carefully. "Indeed?"

Harry's tummy did an unpleasant little squirm. Severus didn't look amused in the slightest and suddenly it occurred to Harry that the man's letter – the one that had caused the blushing – might have something to do with his lack of diversion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry had assumed that the letter had been from Dr. Helbig; the woman evidently cared a great deal for Severus, after all. It was little wonder, given the man playing her knight in shining armour, and then there had been all that gallant bowing back in Tŷ Cysgod. But Severus certainly didn't look pleased with the idea of Draco having a crush on Hemlock, even if Harry hadn't meant it in any serious way. But which part discomfited him? Draco fancying a bloke? Draco fancying Hemlock? Hemlock being fancied?

Was Snape…? Did Snape…?

The squirming intensified and Harry bit his lip some more. "I… umm… I didn't mean in a romantic sense. Not really."

Severus nodded his head slowly, but his features remained rather closed. "I believe my godson is heterosexual. I had thought that his considerations might have begun a tentative entanglement elsewhere." He said this last slowly, evidently awaiting Harry's response.

Harry had to smile; he liked the sound of the phrase tentative entanglement. Thinking about the way Draco regarded Luna like Ron regarded a brilliant game of chess, the smile widened. "Yeah. You don't need to be a spy to notice all the glances he's been tossing Luna's way, right?"

This time, Harry had been waiting for Snape's reaction, so he saw what would have otherwise been an imperceptible easing of the man's features.

"It does not bother you?" Snape asked.

Harry frowned. This was hurting his head. "Why should it?" he asked.

Severus gestured to the sheet of paper in Harry's hand. "When a young lady makes a man's mind wander, it could be taken as a sign of deeper regard."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that. His unsettled stomach eased and he shook his head. "No. Luna's a friend. It's nothing like that. And when you get to know her a little better, you'll find out what I mean about the mind wandering. It's like everything she says is a bloody tarot card. Sometimes, it's like there are all these different layers of meaning and sometimes it's just nonsense."

Severus nodded and eased himself back into his chair. "Do you recall the third-year essay about the uses of foxglove in the draught of cunning?" At Harry's nod, Severus continued. Ms. Lovegood returned a response of just three sentences. I have unfortunately committed them to memory." The man paused, and when he spoke again, he did so with a passable imitation of Luna's lilting cadence. "A fox is cunning enough to not worry about fingerprints, but the gloves will help them in a draft. Tea would be better, though."

A surprised laugh erupted from Harry at the impression, the words and Severus' following cocked eyebrow. "Brilliant," he chuckled.

"I have never decided whether she knew that foxglove is powerfully efficient in warming balms. Nor whether she knew that the draught brewed with a very specific tea leaf increases its power exponentially. I gave her a detention and docked ten points, just to be sure." The man mused for a while and then seemed disinclined to comment further.

Harry decided to ask again about the man's letters. "Draco says they've started some balls rolling, out there. Luna is doing something with the DA galleon and she even says how pretty Draco's hair is. What about you? Anything good in your letters?"

Severus offered a nonchalant shrug, but the pinpricks of colour were back. "Evans sends his apologies for holding a knife to my throat; Sandra has sent an update pertaining to The Shade's current research endeavours." He paused, coughed and blushed a little harder. However, this time Harry noticed what he might just call alarm in the man's eyes. "Roscoe… has sent me a copy of his skincare routine and some advice as to how I might keep my own skin "delectably creamy" and my hair at its "newfound delicious lustre". It is quite disconcerting."

Harry had been about to take a sip of magically-reheated tea and was decidedly glad he had not. It was sure to have come back out of his nose or choked him.

"Well," Harry said, his voice rather high. "I guess Draco isn't the only one with a boy-crush, eh?"

Snape looked back down at the letter, his lips a tight line. "I sincerely hope not. While Draco's fixation might be chalked up to a completely heterosexual admiration, Hemlock Roscoe is as flamboyantly gay as a flock of flamingos."

Harry frowned, not liking what sounded like prejudice in the man's words. Before he could say anything, however, Severus continued.

"Roscoe's list of conquests is as long as your list of detentions, Harry. He will flirt with anything that has a Y chromosome in the twenty-third pair, a fact that I can attest to, given his past flirtations with even a "greasy dungeon bat" like myself. But I am unused to this level of hyperbole from the man. I shall give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it is a jest meant in fun and not in ridicule. Otherwise, I shall have to reacquaint him with the Exsupercilium curse I invented in my third year."

Severus continued to regard the letter in his hand with an expression that suggested it might bite him.

Nobody says the nice things they think about him. Nobody is shy with the not-nice things. Luna really did have a way of hitting that nail on the head. Sometimes with a radish, sometimes with a sledgehammer.

"Which part of the letter are you more uncomfortable with, Sev? Do you not like Hemlock's flirting because you think he's lying, or do you have something against him for being gay?"

If Harry had wanted to get the man's attention, he was successful. The expression on Severus' face flitted quickly between confusion, surprise, and outrage. There was also something guarded and, finally (predictably) the blank mask fixed itself in place.

The man said nothing.

"It's about time for an "Ask Stuff" session anyway," Harry said, softly. "Consider that my question for today."

It took a long time, long enough that Harry began to believe that the man wouldn't answer at all. When Severus did respond, he did so with a question that was asked with a gentle hesitance Harry understood to be for his sake.

"Your experiences have not made you hate those with homosexual proclivities, then?"

Harry didn't know whether to roll his eye, scowl or laugh. He supposed if he were more Slytherin, he might be able to accomplish all of them at once. But beyond his annoyance, the disgust he felt was visceral.

"If you're referring to my uncle, then you're an idiot. That man wasn't gay; he was a monster. What he did…" Harry swallowed back the bile. He squeezed his eye shut. He continued. "What he did to me was nothing to do with sex and everything to do with violence and hate and just being a fucking scumbag."

The spy could not hide behind a blank façade this time, and if Harry had not been feeling quite so upset, he might have registered the surprise and the gratification in the man's countenance. As it was, Harry was frowning down at his own hands in his lap.

"I underestimated you in this, Harry. I had assumed that your uncle's monstrosity might forever be associated in your mind with the physical acts he imposed. I confess that I am surprised." Severus' voice was soft.

Harry looked up from his lap and met the man's eyes. The coal there burned softly and Harry felt the irritation which had began to simmer within him start to abate. At last, he smiled ever so slightly. "I suppose thinking I'm an idiot is kind of your default setting, so I won't hold it against you his time. Try to break the habit though, yeah? I'm not a complete prat. I know what he did to me. I know what he was and I know what he wasn't. And I'm perfectly capable of distinguishing between someone like my uncle and someone like… Hemlock." Be brave with the true things, Harry. He took a fortifying breath. "Someone like me, actually."

Harry couldn't maintain the smile after whispering that last utterance. For some reason, the man's reaction meant something to him. He needed Severus Snape to accept this about him. He had never shared this aspect of himself with anyone before; it was too confusing, too messy, too rife with implications that he knew other people would make if they knew the whole story.

"You continue to upset my preconceptions about you, Harry. It is rather irritating," said the potions master, genuine astonishment in his voice.

Harry heard the man's acceptance.

He could have left things there, but he had lived crimson and gold for the last five years. "You answered my question with a question, by the way," he said, reminding Severus that he owed an answer to Harry's "Ask Stuff" question.

Severus quirked an almost smile and shrugged. "As I am neither hypocrite not homophobe, one must conclude that I doubt Roscoe's sincerity."

Nobody says the nice things they think about him. Nobody is shy with the not-nice things.

"You seem to have unwarranted doubts about your merits, Sev," said Harry, echoing Severus' earlier comment. "It is rather puzzling."

This time, when Severus blushed, Harry could be sure of the cause.

*The books Harry and Severus exchanged:

As their discussion of previous days included the books which turned them into readers-for-pleasure, Snape gave Harry, "Watership Down" by Richard Adams and "Lord of the Flies" by William Golding.

Harry gave Snape "The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾" by Sue Townsend and "The Wasp Factory" by Iain Banks. He wanted to give him Philip Pullman's "Northern Lights", but Severus didn't want to begin an incomplete series, and the original trilogy wasn't complete at the time in which this is set.

A/N – Hi all! I apologise for the delay. I think I lost the plot (figuratively and literally) and I just could not get this written in a way I liked. I still don't like it all that much, but I hardly ever do, and I figured that writing and posting might get things moving again.

Maybe a beta would help… someone to hash through plot with when it just won't write itself. I'm not sure I could cope with sharing control in such a way, though. Maybe I just need head-pats and reassurance. I'm so good at talking myself out of posting my writing with you all.

I struggled with this one for reasons. For potential flamers out there, no survivor deals in a painted-by-numbers way. Being told you're not normal for feeling certain things after trauma…. well that just sucks, doesn't it? So be nice. Please.

P.S. Rest assured, I will NEVER abandon this story. Updates might be slow sometimes, but they will come eventually.

P.P.S. The collective noun for a group of flamingos is a "flamboyance".

P.P.P.S. Movie Training Montage, anyone?