Chapter 8 : To Where We Go

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Severus Snape reached out to grasp the bronze knocker on Harry Potter's front door. There were any number of ways this encounter could go, many of which Severus did not care to consider. He and Harry had been adversaries for so many years – was it foolish to think that time and a few isolated memories could change ingrained attitudes?

He hesitated then, seized by uncertainty. Perhaps this was a grave mistake. His mind flooded with reasons for why it was better that he kept his distance, for why his decision to come at all was imprudent… for why it was probably best that he leave now and not linger.

Only one thought stopped him: Al was expecting him.

He recalled that fateful afternoon over two months ago, when, for the first time, he looked upon the smiling face of an unfamiliar boy as he peered out from behind Ariana's portrait. Little did he know then that the trajectory of his life was about to change. For in that moment, against his will, he completely surrendered to the friendship of Albus Severus Potter.

His friend.

A small, wistful smile appeared on Severus' lips, and his body started to relax at the comfortable thought.

Yes, he owed it to his friend to keep his promise, to take a chance – no matter the outcome. With his pulse racing in anticipation, he squared his shoulders and prepared for the unknown. One deep, steadying breath later, he tightened his fingers around the bronze handle and knocked.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Although he only waited for several long moments, it felt like an eternity that he stood before that heavy, wooden door, as though awaiting his fate. But before he knew it, the door was being wrenched open, revealing a familiar, smiling face in its wake.

"Severus!" Al swung the door wide and flashed his signature, toothy grin. "You came!"

"I said I would," Severus replied warmly.

"I know, but you could have changed your mind. I asked you a long time ago."

"It has only been about two weeks."

"Well, that's a long time!" Al huffed, adorably indignant. "Anyway, I guess it doesn't matter. Come in, come in!" He gestured eagerly. "My dad's in the kitchen, he said he would be right out."

Severus' feet felt heavy as he stepped over the threshold and into the house. His eyes darted around, trying to absorb what he could of his surroundings. The foyer he was admitted into opened up to a living room – no doubt intended to be an elegant sitting room based on the architecture of the house – yet the furniture was so unpretentious he couldn't help but feel at home immediately; the decor was warm and comfortable. The house itself was large, at least what he could gather by the exterior (and what little of the interior he had seen so far), but not overwhelmingly so; certainly not showy. That didn't seem like the type of thing that would be important to Harry, anyway.

"You can put your boots and your cloak there," Al said, pointing to a rubber mat and coat rack. Severus complied, making sure to track as little of the snow he had brought in with him as possible. As he removed his outerwear, he kept one eye on the room before him, wondering when he would see Harry… or when Harry would see him.

By now, his heart was nearly beating its way out of his chest.

As he rejoined Al in the living room, he took stock of a large, leather recliner. Just as he was about insinuate himself into the chair, movement out of the corner of his eye stopped him. His pulse now in his ears, he turned his head slowly to take in the adult figure of Harry Potter.

They both froze, staring at each other, no one in the room saying a thing. Al looked back and forth between the two of them, but seemed inclined to wait for one of them to make the first move.

Harry looked exactly like his more recent newspaper photos – his messy mop of black hair; his stylish, square-rimmed glasses; the obvious stubble that hugged his jaw and chin. He was dressed in a dark green wool sweater that set off his eyes – eyes that Severus felt always pierced right through him – and a pair of careworn Muggle jeans. He was barefoot. A small, white towel was slung over his right shoulder.

As Harry advanced slowly into the room, towards Severus, he pulled the white towel off and dropped it absently on the floor, never once taking his eyes off his target. He was moving so slowly that all Severus could do was hold his breath – it was caught in his throat anyway, unable to be dislodged even if he had wanted to. So he just stood there, unsure of what to do, his arms hanging by his sides, his gaze riveted on Harry.

Then Harry stopped, a few paces from Severus, his eyes roving everywhere as if trying to take in every nuance. Severus knew it was mostly the same, with some differences in the details.

"It is you… isn't it?" Harry asked, his mouth open slightly.

Severus swallowed hard and then nodded slowly.

Harry seemed to reel for a moment, and then in one sudden movement, rushed forward and pulled Severus into a desperate and firm embrace, his arms circling the taller man's shoulders, pressing their bodies together as though this was going to be their first and last chance to ever do such a thing.

Severus found that all he could do was stand there, accepting Harry's embrace. He felt blasted open – the relief and ire and confusion and hope that had ebbed and flowed over twenty years, and beyond, now inched dangerously close to the surface, ready to pour out of him at any moment. He managed to maintain his composure, though, at least for the moment. However, if the arms around his shoulders and the warm body against him had lingered any longer, he would not have been able to promise such a thing.

Mercifully, Harry pulled back then, and Severus was surprised to see moisture welling in his eyes. Harry removed his glasses and quickly wiped his face with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe this. What happened to you? How are you even alive? I don't understand…" he trailed off, shaking his head, clearly trying to make sense of everything but coming up empty-handed at every turn.

Severus waited until Harry looked back up at him before responding. "Yes, it is really me." He sighed heavily. "However, I think it best that I explain everything to you later." He gestured his head to indicate Al.

Harry looked at Al for the first time since entering the living room, almost as though he had forgotten he was there. He considered him for a long moment before nodding his head in agreement.

Just then, two small arms reached up in between them and directed a flat, rectangular box towards Severus.

"I bought you a gift," Al said, smiling. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

Disoriented, Severus accepted the package. The shiny red paper and large green bow swam in his vision for a moment as his mind refocused. The wrapping was very clearly Al's handiwork, yet all the more meaningful and charming because of it. Severus' mouth spread into a small, thin smile. Truthfully, he couldn't remember the last time he had received a gift simply because someone had wished it so.

Carefully, he opened the package, and Al grabbed the discarded paper as it fell away from the box. His eyes were fixated on Severus, watching his every move with anticipation, an eager smile on his face.

As Severus lifted the lid to the box, Al stood up on his tip-toes to peer inside of it along with him.

Severus regarded the black, leather-bound potions journal with genuine surprise. Instinctively, he lifted a hand to trace his finger over the embossed initials – S.S. – that were set into the cover. The well-appointed book was clearly of the highest quality. It was perfect.

Severus looked first at Al, who was beaming back at him, and then chanced a glance at Harry, who just gave a little shrug in response as if to suggest he had nothing to do with it.

"Thank you," Severus started. "This is… very nice." He paused for a moment, fighting with an impulse, and then finally gave in. He knelt down on one leg and pulled Al into a quick hug – a gesture that felt as foreign as it did liberating.

Al was positively vibrating he was so happy. Then, excitedly, "The one you always use looks really old so I thought maybe you could use a new one. And this one has your initials on it, see?"

Severus grinned as a small finger directed his attention to the embossing on the cover. Then, with a bashful look on his face, Al leaned over and whispered near Severus' ear, although it still would have been loud enough for Harry to hear.

"I have one sort of like this, too, but I use it for a diary. You can use yours for a diary too. If you need one, that is." Al flushed as he stood back up and darted a quick glance towards his dad.

Severus was sure the color pinked on his cheeks, too, but had no idea how to respond.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

After an increasingly awkward silence, Severus finally cleared his throat. "I suppose it's my turn, then." He excused himself and headed into the foyer to collect something from his traveling cloak. He lingered a moment, grateful for the short reprieve, and took a deep breath.

When he returned, he pulled a small parcel out from behind his back and handed it to Al. Then, touching his wand to the top of the package, he enlarged it back to its normal size. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

Face alight, Al's eyebrows shot into his fringe and he accepted it with awe. Trotting over to the couch, he sat down and put the present on his lap to open it properly. Harry looked on with an affectionate expression, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. As Al lifted the box top off, he inhaled sharply. He reached in to grab a hold of the gift and pulled it out quickly, making a show of it to his dad, his face brightening even more.

Harry looked at the cauldron in Al's hands and raised an eyebrow, but made sure to smile reassuringly despite his confusion. Severus caught the response and knew that to the average onlooker (which unfortunately included Harry in this case), it would appear his gift was just an old cauldron. But to the trained eye, one would notice it was not just any old cauldron – in fact, it was a 12-year-old, well-seasoned, expertly-cast cauldron. Nowadays, the expensive and hard-to-find kind. Indeed, the type of thing that only a Potions Master would appreciate. Or an 11-year-old boy with a similar passion.

"Wow…!" Al gasped. "Thank you!" He held the cauldron up in front of him to inspect it closer, the soft light in the room clearly making it hard for him to revel in the details.

"That was one of my favorites," Severus noted with mock seriousness. "Take good care of it for me."

"Oh, I will!" Al exclaimed, suddenly hugging the cauldron protectively against his chest and nodding soberly. Then he pulled it away again and continued to examine it reverently.

Severus grinned, but let it fade quickly when he realized Harry was watching him. Turning to let his black eyes meet green, a surge of warmth flooded his body as they locked gazes for a moment. He didn't understand the origin of the sensation, but didn't question it, either. Although Harry's gaze was soft, he looked away first this time. However, it was Severus who spoke first.

"I'm sorry that I did not bring you a gift. I was not sure if it would be appropriate, given the circumstances. But I did want to return something to you that has been in my possession for many years. Too many, perhaps. You are the rightful owner." At this, he withdrew an envelope from his pocket and paused momentarily before handing it to Harry.

Curious, and a little confused, Harry tipped his head to the side slightly as he regarded it. It was blank except for his name written on the front in an untidy scrawl. With a quick check over to Al, who was so engrossed in his new cauldron by now that he was not paying the slightest bit of attention to the other occupants of the room, Harry turned back to the envelope in his hands. Cracking open the seal, he tentatively reached in and pulled out the two items it contained: a photograph and a piece of parchment, both apparently torn from something larger. Upon closer examination, he found he recognized them instantly – a family photo that included only his mother, Lily, and a portion of the letter she had written to Sirius Black, her sign-off and signature still appearing as though they were penned yesterday.

Harry looked up suddenly in amazement, obviously touched by the gift. He was clearly at a loss for words because he only pinched his lips together firmly and lowered his gaze back to the items in his hands, scanning them thoroughly.

Silence lingered between them for several long moments, and when Harry lifted his head, it was to blink back tears.

"Wait here a moment," he said softly. With that, he swept from the room quietly and Severus was left to stand there, wondering after him, hoping he had not unduly upset him.

When Harry returned a couple minutes later, he was holding a small, ornately-carved wooden box and a scroll. Mimicking Severus' own actions, Harry held out the two items. "And I think these belong to you."

Furrowing his brow, Severus regarded the wooden box first as he took hold of it. Unfastening the small latch, he opened the lid and eyed its contents: a small, glass vial with a swirling, misty substance inside. It was unmistakeable: they were memories. But whose? As he looked back up at Harry, their eyes met again – Severus' in confusion, Harry's in anticipation.

When Harry did not offer an explanation, however, Severus reached in to pick up the vial from its holder, set snugly against a dark green velvet lining. It occurred to him then that the box was probably custom made for the vial…

Then it hit him.

"These are… mine?" he managed, now cradling the vial delicately in his hand.

Harry nodded after a moment.

Severus closed his eyes and willed himself to breathe, closing his hand firmly around the vial. Lifting it to his closed mouth, he pressed his fist lightly against his lips, remembering. When he reopened his eyes, he placed the vial carefully back in the box and then closed the lid.

Turning his attention to the scroll, he untied the ribbon and let it unravel slowly. Inside were two items. The first appeared to be an aged newspaper, distinctive with its yellowed appearance, and the other a certificate of some kind. Unfolding the newspaper gingerly, a large, bold headline jumped off the page at him:

SNAPE EXONERATED!
The reformed Death Eater cleared on all charges by
Harry Potter, an outspoken and ardent supporter

For a moment, all Severus could do was stare, but then a cursory glance of the date indicated it was a Daily Prophet edition from mid-2000 – almost precisely two years after the final battle with Voldemort. His mind started to spin a bit, but then he realized that was before he had started subscriptions to all the wizarding newspapers. Prior to that time, he would grab one only when they were conveniently accessible, which was not often.

Silently, Severus wondered what else he had missed.

He got the answer to that as he turned his attention on the final item Harry had given him: the certificate. As he unrolled that, too, a proclamation glinted in foiled red text:

ORDER OF MERLIN: FIRST CLASS
Posthumously Awarded to Severus Snape For Substantial Contributions in—

But Severus could read no more of it as a lump formed inconveniently in his throat. He stood there and stared for a long moment, the gravity of everything settling in on him. Al had mentioned that Harry had cleared his name with the Ministry, but had not provided specifics. Severus also knew Harry had seen to it that a portrait now hung in the Headmaster's office. But he had also accepted the Order of Merlin on his behalf and saved his memories all these years – seemingly, with no intention of ever disposing of them, if the archival box was anything to show for it.

But what does this mean? Severus' mind was too far away to make sense of it.

When he looked back up at Harry, he was met with a pair of searching eyes, laden with concern and compassion. Almost instantly, Severus was overwhelmed with the significance and emotion there and found he had to look away quickly.

Then, he felt a hand softly touch his forearm. "I'm sorry, maybe I should have waited to give you these things. Perhaps this is too much all at once. I didn't think, I'm sorry."

"No," Severus interjected, looking back at Harry. "It's not that. It's just…" he trailed off for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You did all this for me?"

Harry looked surprised at the question but only nodded. "Yes."

"But why? I thought you…" he paused, almost afraid to voice it now. "I thought you hated me."

At this, Harry reached out and placed a couple fingers lightly on top of the wooden box that contained Severus' memories. He seemed distant then for a moment, as though he was lost in memories of his own. But when his eyes returned to Severus, his face wore a meaningful expression.

"These changed everything. I had been wrong about you and didn't know it." He paused to swallow and then pressed his lips into an apologetic smile, pain flashing behind his eyes. "Thank you for entrusting them to me."

Severus cast his eyes downward and nodded silently. He had not been prepared for how hard this was going to be, drudging up the past and sifting through his old life, feeling these intense shifts of emotion storm through him, knowing he was utterly ill-equipped to speak what was truly in his heart. But perhaps the most difficult thing of all was being back in Harry's presence – the man and no longer the student – witnessing the obvious guilt and regret that revealed itself in his countenance.

So where do we go from here? Severus wondered.

Almost as though Harry was reading that thought directly from his mind, he said, quietly, "If you'd like to stay for dinner, I've already set out a third place. I made roast duck with vegetables and Christmas pudding for dessert. If that's okay."

Severus looked up quickly, finding that several questions crowded his mind at once, each competing to be heard. The only one he could manage to get out was, "You cook?"

Harry chuckled lightly. "Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

Severus just blinked, but found some degree of amusement to it. "I suppose not. But roast duck? By non-magical methods?"

"Yup, just these," Harry said, lifting his hands to wiggle his fingers. "As to the duck, Al is partial to it, and hoped you would like it, too."

Severus turned to look at Al, who was still sitting on the couch but had taken up reading a book.

"Al, you ready for dinner?" Harry asked.

Closing his book with a quick snap, Al grinned and hopped up from the couch, leaving Severus with the distinct impression he had actually been listening to their conversation the whole time.

Slytherin to the core, Severus thought. He just shook his head and grinned at Al as he passed by.

Al grinned back, his eyes playful and light.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

When the three of them were all seated around the dining room table, a house elf emerged from the kitchen, levitating a tray with two wine goblets and a small glass tumbler. Severus watched with interest as the elf set a wine goblet in front of both he and Harry, and the other glass in front of Al. Instantly, the stemware filled with a rich, burgundy-colored wine, and the tumbler with what appeared to be orange juice, if he had to guess.

Delicately, Harry picked up his goblet and gestured for the rest of the table to mirror him. Just as he was about to give a blessing for the meal, Al stopped him.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Harry's expression softened as he smiled. "I love you, too, Al."

When Harry was about to start speaking again, Al interrupted for a second time.

"And Severus?"

Startled, Severus looked over at him, and felt a sudden rush of discomfit.

"Yes?" he asked, though quieter than he had intended.

Al kneeled up on his chair so that he could reach across the table. As he tipped his tumbler gently into Severus' goblet, the delicate tinkling of glass on crystal echoed into the quiet room.

Al smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling.

"Merry Christmas."

~ Fin ~