10.

Harry was lost, Severus could see it perfectly. The young man was just standing in the half-empty party hall, alone, idly fidgeting with the medal of the Order of Merlin First Class in his hand, his eyes fixed on the absolutely dark window, unfocused. Lines of tiredness were all over his face, dark circles surrounded his eyes and the green orbs seemed dull and bloodshot.

The party slowly came to its end, everybody turned to go home, only the a few guests remained behind for a little chat with their old friends. There were some people who tried to involve Harry in their conversations, but the young man was too distant and closed so that after a while the most important person of the gathering stood alone and lost. And Severus couldn't help but sympathise with this loneliness, with this brave hearted and strong man, and suddenly could understand what Heather, his niece had seen in him, the thing even he hadn't noticed during their few friendly days, and most definitely he had never seen before those days: the enormous strength of humanity which made Harry able to overcome the monster, to forgive himself and Dumbledore, to go on… Well, he wasn't sure about the last one. He wasn't sure Harry knew how to go on anymore. Quite the contrary: the duty was fulfilled, the burden, which had been placed on those shoulders was finally gone – and there was nothing remaining. Nothing.

Harry – even though involuntarily – had sacrificed everything on the altar of this war: his parents, his friends, his lover and his son; his past and his future, and now, he didn't know what to do with his mere empty life. He remembered perfectly their conversation about their future plans, when he had asked the young man he had received a shockingly hollow answer to his question: 'I don't think I will live long enough to see it.'

And yet, Harry had survived, he was the Boy-Who-Lived after all, but what for? Severus's heart clenched watching the lone figure, and suppressing his natural reluctance he put down his own champagne glass on a nearby table and walked to him.

Harry, hearing the footfalls, turned his head in his direction. Severus saw as the grave expression eased a little and a relief-like shine appeared in the tired eyes.

"You should go home. You look overtired," Severus said in an even tone, but the moment he uttered the words he knew he had been extremely stupid. Potter didn't have a home to go. But he didn't snap at Severus, and didn't break down, just the small signs of his previous relief disappeared without any trace from the friendly face leaving behind the heavy lines of nothingness and pain.

"Yeah," Harry groaned out. "I'd like to go home too."

With a sudden decision, Snape took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"I think that for the time being you could move in with me. My cottage is big enough to accommodate two single men like us, and… and you're family after all…"

Harry jerked his head away, looking at the opposite side of the hall, "I don't need your pity," he said with forced calmness.

"I don't pity you, Harry," he replied promptly and carefully, he touched the tensed man's shoulder. "You don't need my pity, or our pity. You're strong enough. I just thought that… until you find out what to do with your life, you can live in Mortgate Lair. It," he gulped with difficulty, "it would have been Heather's heritage anyway… Your heritage."

Harry jerked his head back to him as fast as he had jerked it away previously.

"I don't need any heritages. I don't need Grimmaud Place, I don't need Godric's Hall, I don't need that Mortgate Lair either. I… I want them back. The people." Unshed tears twinkled in the greenness of his eyes. "I don't know what to do with my life," he whispered quickly as if it was something shameful. "My life is over. Over."

"Don't be a fool. It's not over," Snape said softly. "I want you to move in with me. It won't do any good for you to live alone again. And the same goes for me. Anyway, I was sincere when I told you that you are family. Since… Heather was like a daughter to me, I consider you a kind of son-in-law…"

"Harry, Severus," the Headmaster stepped up to them. "May I have a word with you?"

Severus swallowed hard and cast a worried look at his younger companion. He couldn't guess how Harry would react to the polite question. During the last hours, since they had arrived to Hogwarts (where everybody had been awake and known of the Dark Lord's demise) they had had no time to talk to Dumbledore except for a short summary of the fight and the previous days' events, and since then, they were awake, going from one party to another, chatting politely with Ministry workers and giving interviews to excited journalists and telling and re-telling one or another part of their adventures – leaving out the only important part: their conversations, and by now, both were dead on their feet.

And Harry had a well-based grudge against the old man. Oh, and he had a grudge too. Almost the same as Harry's.

"Of course, Albus," Harry said tiredly, but with impeccable courteousness. "Can we go to a calmer place?"

Dumbledore nodded and ushered them to follow him. Soon, they found themselves in a small room adjacent to the party hall, with two comfortable sofas and several fluffy armchairs. Harry almost collapsed in an armchair while Severus sat on one of the sofas carefully crossing his long legs and folding his arms over his chest.

"Please, be quick, Albus," he said coldly. "We are both tired."

Harry loosened the collar of his shirt and yawned as if he wanted to confirm Severus's words.

Dumbledore nodded and looked at Harry then at Severus with sad eyes.

"Even though I know saying sorry won't solve anything, I have to begin with apologising to both of you for… for those sacrifices you had to make in order to win this war. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Severus for letting you fall to the Dark Side and later using your death wish for our purposes…"

Severus buried his burning face in his hands. "You don't have to apologise, Albus. I understand."

"If I had had another choice…"

"I understand, Albus. Please," Severus's voice choked. He didn't want Albus to talk, to apologise about it. "It wasn't entirely your fault. I did my part in it as well. I wanted vengeance at any cost. I was intelligent enough to understand that the end doesn't justify the means. It wasn't your fault that my father was a jerk and that we were poor and I wanted to break free of that situation. You were not omnipotent. And I am glad I could help you." He looked up and furrowed his brows. "Let's call it even." His tone carried finality, and Dumbledore recognised it.

"I have no excuses in your case though, Harry," he said softly. "I-"

"Do you remember, Headmaster what you once told me? 'I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.' I couldn't understand you for a long time. I blamed you, and I hated you. But in the end, when I was in Voldemort's mind, in his darkness, I understood. I always thought you were somehow more than us, mortals. More clever. More… omnipotent, as Severus said. But then, I understood. Your only fault was that you loved me too much, so that you put my safety before the war's outcome. You tried to protect me even when I didn't need that protection any more, when I should have faced Voldemort and finished this war somewhere after my Auror training was finished. I excelled Occlumency by that time, you knew, but you were afraid of losing me."

"My stupid protectiveness killed your family," Dumbledore interjected quietly.

"Martius Montague killed my family," Harry shook his head in exasperation. "You just wanted to protect Severus by giving out that piece of information and me, who was lying in the hospital. It was… my fault that I didn't trust you with the very important information about my marital status in such a delicate situation. I let my frustration about you rule over my decisions not understanding the possible consequences."

"I betrayed your trust…"

"If I had trusted you, I would have told you the truth about Heather and me."

Silence fell on them, and Severus looked at Harry in thought. Inside, he felt such huge pride in the young man's mature behaviour as if he was the father of this wonderful person – and not the man, who had made his life as miserable as he could for years. Suddenly, the loss of Heather hit him in his heart, but in a strange, almost twisted way: if she lived, he could really call Harry family. But now, Harry would possibly go on his way and the strange, but good familiarity and almost-friendship between them would become past with no future, and he didn't want that.

These feelings were so alien that he missed the next part of Harry and Dumbledore's conversation.

Did he really want Harry to be his family? Or was it something sudden based on his joy over the Dark Lord's end, or on his tiredness, or on the last days' disturbing revelations, or on his love toward his sister and his niece? Or was it simply the fact that they were survivors of a terrible war with no family and real home to go to?

And the most important question: after everything that had happened between them was there any chance to becoming… what? Friends? Family?

"… and there's something more," Dumbledore's serious voice snapped Severus out of his thoughts. "But first of all I want to tell that you don't have to decide today and you can say no. Really."

Severus suddenly didn't like the newest turn of the other two's conversation. Neither the tone nor the old man's body language promised any good.

"I received a letter three months ago from your aunt."

Harry's face paled violently, and two burning patches appeared on his cheeks.

"Does… did something happen to them?" he asked fearfully.

"In a certain way, yes," Dumbledore sighed. "But you won't be happy to hear it…"

"Tell me," the young man said resolutely and leaned forward.

"Your cousin got married four years ago…"

"Yes, because his girlfriend turned to be pregnant with his kid. But as I know they left the child with aunt Petunia and they divorced after a year or so…"

"And your aunt wrote me that she and her husband would not raise up another wizard and asked me to remove the child from her care…"

"Wizard?" Harry looked confused.

"Apparently, the child did some accidental magic. I checked: he's on our school list. He will attend Hogwarts in eight years. He's indeed a wizard."

Severus saw Harry going even paler and shut his eyes tightly.

"What did you do?" he whispered in a broken voice.

"I couldn't do anything, Harry. I wrote back saying the same."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I see. I'll visit them…"

"But not today," Severus suddenly interrupted them. "We, three are famous for our wrong and hurried decisions. Now, we'll go to bed, sleep and tomorrow, we'll decide what to do."

"But…"

"I agree with Severus," Dumbledore stood up. "You both need some rest. Where will you stay, Harry?"

The young man turned his head to Severus questioningly. "I… if your offer is still…"

"Potter will stay with me, Albus."

Dumbledore cast a surprised look at them, but nodded.

"All right. And if you need anything…"

"We know where to find you, Albus."

After awakening, Harry didn't move for a long time. He mulled the previous day over and over in his mind, remembering the parties and the joyful faces of Neville, Tonks, McGonagall, and to his utter surprise the Weasleys; they all had been very kind to him, but they had disappeared somewhere after the third or fourth party leaving him not only alone, but deserted – and then, Snape had come and offered him a home, even if it was just a temporary home, he didn't have to be, to live alone for which he was extremely grateful. Not to mention that he hadn't even known where to go after the parties yesterday. He had felt lost. And Snape had come and it had felt so right. 'You are family.' It seemed that Snape had meant it seriously.

He had received very comfortable quarters to stay in, and even though Snape had told him that nobody had really lived in the house for months, it seemed home-like and was undoubtedly comfortable.

When he finally got up he immediately spotted the folded robes on the top of a chair next to his bed: bottle green robes and a pair of underpants – typical wizarding clothing, but it didn't disturb him: living with Heather had taught him many things about wizards' life and it felt just right to wear these robes and not muggle ones, even though he planned to go and talk to his aunt. He was a wizard and he wasn't ashamed of it.

In reality, he didn't know what he should do about Dudley's kid. It wasn't his responsibility, was it? He just wanted to talk to aunt Petunia, perhaps to scare them into treating the child properly…

Later, standing at the door of Privet Drive no. 4 he was still having dilemmas about his own motives, but Severus's presence gave him enough willpower to knock on the door.

His aunt answered the knock, looking the same as ever, slightly nervous about Harry's appearance in her door dressed improperly with one of his freak friends, but she didn't say a word, just ushered them in.

"I guess you came for the boy," she said ignoring the usual introductions of polite conversations. "You can take him with you whenever you want…"

"What?" Harry asked stunned. He didn't come for the boy! He came because of him! But his aunt didn't wait for his reaction.

"Jason!" she cried impatiently.

A door creaked upstairs and both Harry and Severus turned their heads up. Stepping out of Harry's old room stood a little boy, so different from the Dursleys: he was skinny, dark-haired and he had emerald green eyes, just like Harry's… he must have inherited them from his grandmother's side.

The kid eyed the two strangers warily, with a certain amount of trepidation in his eyes, and Harry suddenly felt that he couldn't leave him here.

The boy was just so like his son, or the way he had imagined his son that he couldn't resist.

And his name was Jason.

Jason.

"Jason?" he crouched down and reached his arms toward the frightened child. Next to him, his aunt opened her mouth, but Snape silenced her somehow and from the corner of his eyes, Harry saw the tall man looking at the kid almost as expectantly as Harry did. "Come on, kiddo."

The child took a tentative step forward, but he slipped on the polished surface of the stairs and fell.

The next moment Harry knelt at his side. The child didn't cry though, just looked at him frightened.

"I'm Harry," Harry said, his throat dry and narrow and helped the small kid to sit up.

They looked at each other intently.

"You have green eyes," the child spoke up suddenly. "I have green eyes too."

"Because we are related," Harry tried to smile.

"You're my dad?"

Harry froze. He looked at his older companion helplessly.

"Right. We'll take the boy with us. We'll take care of the documents ourselves, the only thing you have to do is to make your son write a declaration of renouncement and send it to us so that Potter can adopt the boy," Snape prompted making the woman jump in surprise.

"Is he my grandpa?" the kid whispered to Harry while moving closer unconsciously, and looked at Severus's severe form in slight terror.

The next moment the child was in his arms, Harry didn't even know how. But he held him tightly, tears running down his cheeks – not for the first time in the last week, savouring the feeling of holding a little child close to his heart. The kid didn't protest, but threw his small arms around Harry's neck, peering over his shoulders at the dark, tall man coming up the stairs with mild interest.

"Shhh, don't disturb him," the kid whispered to his supposed grandpa, "he's crying."

"Crying," Snape murmured in mock irritation and sat on the top stair just behind them. "We should go home. He can cry at home too."

But he didn't move.

They just sat in peace, the three of them.

It wasn't over.

Snape – Severus – was right. His life wasn't over.

It's just begun.

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The end