8.

Harry felt much better. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his… heart, mind, chest: he could breathe again, he could feel again, not only sense, but feel, and not only pain, but grief, sorrow, fear… He felt whole again. And Snape was very supportive. The man seemed different. Somehow less dark, less cruel, less – ugly. Yes, Harry saw him definitely less ugly as the last shreds of mutual hatred disappeared: in front of him was just a man, a not too handsome man, but not the epithet of cruelty and evilness anymore. Probably, the lack of the usual sneered helped a great deal too.

And now, that Harry had the chance to examine his ex-teacher thoroughly, he could see the facial similarities between Heather and her uncle. The same lips, the same eyebrows, the curve of the chin. Would his son have been like Snape? He couldn’t decide it. He saw the baby only once, and he didn’t dare have a good look at him, and the events of that afternoon were too blurry and painful. The little boy had gone away before he could arrive for real. His son. His dead son.

He was enraged at Dumbledore now, more than ever before. His confession had suddenly made everything more real, Heather’s relation to Snape just strengthened this feeling. Heather wasn’t an independent person in his mind any more, she was a member of a greater family… A greater family that had died out by now.

Snape was the remainder of a big family, just like him. Oh, no, he wasn’t alone: his aunt, uncle and Dudley (already divorced) were still living in Surrey, relieved that the freak would never come back to disturb their little muggle shelter. Harry hadn’t seen them since his last summer between his sixth and seventh year. Not as though he missed them.

But still, he missed a family, a home he had once had for a few months.

‘I don’t think we can reach Laverton today,’ Snape suddenly spoke up breaking the long and comfortable silence. ‘We stayed in that pub for too long.’

‘No problem,’ Harry muttered and stretched himself as much as he could sitting.

‘We should, I think, but I don’t feel up to driving another three hours. My back is killing me, and I can’t keep my eyes open.’

‘We have to stop then.’

‘Next petrol station.’ Snape yawned.

‘I’m hungry anyway. Though I hate sleeping in a car. I can’t sleep normally, and after I wake up I feel more tired then before.’

‘The same for me.’ Snape sighed. ‘But this is the best way not to be traceable.’

‘I know. It was my idea in the first place.’

‘Too true.’

They bickered for some more minutes, and Harry really enjoyed the lack of hatred and despite in their small squabbling. It was refreshing.

‘The worst thing is that I have clean clothes in my trunk and I can’t reach them…’ Snape murmured when Harry mentioned the idea of a bath, a normal bed and clean clothes.

‘Oh, in Sydney, I suppose.’

‘No, in my pocket.’ Snape frowned. ‘Shrunk. And all I need is a wand…’

Harry snickered. ‘It can be infuriating…’

‘It is.’ Snape pulled out the small box, and Harry’s snicker turned into a small chuckle.

‘Nice.’

Snape snorted. ‘Don’t mention it. If this war ever ends, I’ll sleep a week after a good bath, in a normal bed, preferably not alone…’

‘Either sleep or not alone,’ Harry noticed mirthfully. ‘I don’t think that you can do the two things at the same time.’

‘All right. Then first the bath. Then the sleeping. And after that…’

‘You’re a bachelor, aren’t you?’ Harry looked at Snape curiously.

‘Of course. I am and I will remain one,’ he answered matter-of-factly. ‘I’m not that touchy-feely type. I hate romance and such nonsense. I prefer sitting in my library and reading to chatting with silly women or looking after kids.’ He trembled in disgust. ‘Oh, and I will give my resignation. That will be the first, not the bath, not the bed. The resignation.’

‘You hate teaching.’

‘Understatement of the bloody century, Mr Potter.’

‘But you’re not teaching now!’

‘Because the Headmaster thought that finding you was more important than Potions lessons. Oh, and there were certain students from my own house, who tried to poison me, the traitor, so I’m on a sabbatical now.’

‘Poison you?’ Harry’s eyes goggled in amusement. ‘Were they in their right minds?’

Snape cracked a smirk. ‘Of course not. I could smell the cyanide in my coffee. Stupid brats.’

‘And what will you do after?’

‘After what?’

‘Resigning, bathing, sleeping, having sex… then?’

‘I don’t know yet. I will write a normal Defence textbook. And perhaps a better Potions textbook too. And what about you?’

‘I don’t think I will live long enough to see.’

Silence fell on them again, and it remained until they stop at the next petrol station. This time they both went in to have their drink and food there. After a while, Snape excused himself and headed towards the toilet. Harry remained alone thinking of the last days, when suddenly, he felt something like a finger or a stick pressed into his back. He froze. It wasn’t Severus, he knew, he could see the toilet’s door from his location. But when he wanted to turn around, somebody from behind whispered into his ear, ‘Don’t move, Mr Poulter.’

Another man appeared in front of him: long, with broad shoulders in black-orange robes. Harry almost choked as his sandwich went down the wrong way. Wizards, here, in the middle of the shop of a muggle petrol station, fully visible? Were they mad?

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked as soon as he coughed out the wrong bit.

‘We are looking for you, Mr Poulter. We are members of the Australian Ministry’s Auror Squad. You are under arrest. You are suspected of the murder of a certain Antonin Dolohov…’

‘Oh, so it was he!’ Harry smiled pleased. ‘Served him right, the son-of-a-bitch. Though it wasn’t me who killed him,’ he went on in a colloquial manner. ‘It was one of his fellow Death Eaters. Certainly, you have seen the Dark Mark on his left forearm…’

‘No, there was no sign of anything like that on his left forearm, Mr Poulter. On the contrary, we was told that you are suspected to be a member of that certain group you mentioned before.’

Harry sneered. ‘Apparently, Voldemort still has his people in the Ministry.’ The Auror jerked by the mention of Voldemort’s name, Harry noticed with dark happiness. Slowly, he pulled up the left sleeve of his sweatshirt shoving the Aurors his unmarked skin. ‘I’m not his follower and never be.’

‘So you are indeed a wizard!’ the man behind him said triumphantly.

‘Of course.’ Harry shrugged.

‘Then we have to arrest you for now until-’

Harry became annoyed. ‘Oh, no. I won’t be arrested.’ He leaned closer to the man, who stood in front of him, and from the corner of his eyes he saw the toilet door opening silently. ‘I can show you it’s not me you want. Come closer.’ The man behind him shifted uneasily. Apparently, he was curious too. With a grin, Harry cautiously stripped off the piece of fake skin from his right forehead and tucked his long hair back. The Auror in front him almost blacked out.

‘You…’ he stuttered. ‘You…’

Harry felt the poking presence disappearing from his back as the other Auror circled him to have a look at the thing that apparently bewitched his mate.

When he saw the lightening bolt scar, his eyes widened in shock.

But they had no more time to stare, the next moment Harry hit him in the face, while Severus knocked the other down. They both straightened with a wand in their hand.

‘I think you should Obliviate the station attendant. He seems slightly shocked.’

Snape nodded and with a flick, the shocked man’s expression changed into a confused one. Harry and Snape quickly dragged the two half-conscious men outside. Once outside, they looked at each other.

‘What now?’ Snape asked.

‘You said that you have your trunk with you. Do you have some Veritaserum too?’

‘Of course,’ Snape answered almost hurt. Like having Veritaserum in the back pocket would be such a common thing. ‘But not here. Let’s go to a quieter place. I don’t want to get caught overdosing Ministry Aurors with slightly illegal serums.’

They put the two Aurors in the car and drove some miles away from the petrol station.

‘Cast a Petrificus on this man,’ Harry waved at one of them, ‘And an Ennervate on him.’

Snape looked annoyed. ‘You have a wand too, Mr Potter.’

‘I’m not in a Voldemort-mood, Mr Snape,’ he replied. Understanding dawned on Snape’s face and he cast the two asked for spells on the men after enlarging his own trunk and pulling out a small vial with a clear liquid.

He administered three drops under the half-conscious Auror’s tongue.

‘You can begin,’ he nodded at Harry.

‘Are you a Ministry official?’ Harry leaned closer to the man.

‘Yes, Auror O’Leagh from the Australian Ministry’s Auror Squad.’

‘Are you a follower of the Dark Lord?’

‘No.’

Both men sighed in relief.

‘Who are you looking for?’

‘James Poulter from Sydney.’

‘Why?’

‘He is suspected of murder and participating in You-Know-Who’s organisation.’

‘Who gave you this information?’

‘We received it from the British Ministry of Magic.’

‘Beautiful,’ Snape muttered.

‘How did you find out my location?’

‘We received an anonymous call, you were seen in a local inn five hours ago. Since you were considered a dangerous wizard, the Ministry sent us instead of the muggle police.’

‘Five hours,’ Snape said. ‘It means that they could be here soon.’

‘I don’t understand some things, Severus.’ Harry finally stood up. ‘They didn’t see the Dark Mark on Dolohov’s forearm.’

‘Oh, so it was he.’ Snape nodded absentmindedly. ‘The mark disappears in case of the caster or the bearer’s death. Do you remember Barty Crouch? It could have been good evidence to support the Headmaster’s truth, but with Crouch’s death – even if it wasn’t a complete death like the Dark Lord’s for years – it disappeared. This was the main reason they couldn’t catch the Death Eaters after the first war. There was no proof.’

‘Ah.’ Harry nodded. ‘And what about the Dark Mark over my house? Did the muggles see it?’

‘No. Only wizards can see those spells. For muggles, it looks like fireworks.’

Snape nodded, but in the meantime, he bent back into his trunk and pulled out another vial.

‘What’s that?’

‘Polyjuice,’ he sighed. ‘We polyjuice ourselves into these Aurors and Disapparate away before the Dark Lord arrives here.’

‘If I Apparate, he will sense my magical-’

‘No. Polyjuice will give you the personified people’s magical signature too.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘You didn’t pay attention in your seventh year, apparently.’

‘Ignoring a bullying teacher demanded all my attention.’

Snape opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. ‘All right. Let’s go to work.’

Soon, the familiar figure of Snape dissolved into a brown-haired young man, while Harry became a middle-aged, slightly paunchy fellow with sandy hair.

‘We will go back to Sydney, rent a room, sleep, and tomorrow we’ll decide what to do.’

‘Why not Perth?’

‘Because I’ve never been there. I can’t Apparate there.’

‘I see.’

They tucked the two unconscious men into the car and the next moment they were nowhere to be seen.

***

By the time, they reached their room, Snape could see Harry was at the very end of his power. It wasn’t really surprising: that day, with the painful confessions and the unexpected appearance of the Ministry Aurors after a couple of nights spent in the car and before that the attack’s very short night apparently drained the last shreds of the young man’s power.

Nonetheless, he didn’t let Potter go to sleep without a shower and a dinner, but when finally the still long raven locks touched the pillow, his one-time enemy fell immediately asleep.

Snape, on the contrary, indulged himself with a long bath after dinner thinking about the possibilities they had in this situation. His rational mind suggested he go back to Britain and fight the last battle with the Order’s help. But he knew that Potter would never agree, and his heart protested the idea of making a decision without asking the other beforehand.

Most probably, his ex-master was here, on this continent, together with the majority of the Inner Circle, but surely not everybody. Twenty people, but not many more.

But there were only the two of them. They were outnumbered by a factor of ten. Oh, well, if Potter let him fight. The boy, or no, young man most likely wanted to play hero alone. And was still clueless how to do the task lying in front of him. The old bat had predicted that Harry would be able to defeat the Dark Lord, but she had forgot to mention precisely how he was supposed to do that. Not to mention that Harry didn’t have his own wand here, and using a stranger’s wand in a delicate situation could backfire easily.

He was deep in thought, when a soft cry alarmed him. Grabbing the wand (he decided not to take any steps without it) he wrapped a towel around his waist and cautiously peered outside.

Nothing. The room was empty, just Potter crying in his sleep.

Suddenly, he remembered that Potter hadn’t cleared his mind before sleeping, he went to Potter’s bed and shook him.

‘Potter, wake up!’

The cry abruptly ended as his companion opened his eyes. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t clear your mind,’ he said impatiently.

‘My mind is always clear,’ the brat said and was about to go back to sleep, but Snape didn’t let him.

‘No! Potter, clear your mind before sleeping!’ he snapped trying to sound authoritative, but wearing a simple towel somehow lessened the effect.

‘I don’t need that anymore,’ he heard the soft mumbling. ‘Closing my mind became a natural thing long ago.’

Snape narrowed his eyes, and pointed his wand to the sleeping form. ‘We’ll see. Legilimens!’

The boy didn’t even open his eyes, and yet, Snape was repelled. Going back to the bath defeated, the dark man mused over the newest information. Potter had really learned how to defend his mind. Did it mean that he knew how to attack too?

The water was still comfortably warm, but he ran some more hot water into the bath before climbing back in.

He had to ask Potter about his extracurricular Occlumency studies. He was sure, he hadn’t taught the boy more than defensive techniques.

But if Potter knew how to attack…

If Potter trusted him enough…

If Potter was able to overcome his vengeance and use the power that had been given to him…

Then they wouldn’t need anything else, just a little luck. And finally, they would be free.

Snape sank even deeper into the bath. The boy saw no future for himself; that was another problem. Potter needed to be given a future to be able to win. Snape sighed, even more defeated. He must give a future to Potter, no to Harry, Harry as Heather’s husband, a young man with a tragic past – he had to give him a glimpse of a better future, something… something to live for.

Snape groaned. That would be the hardest task of his life. Him and counselling! Ridiculous. But he had to do that, and not only because of the Dark Lord, the wizarding world and such nonsense. He had to do that for his sister and for his niece, for the two people he had loved most in his pathetic life. He owed it to those women.

And this debt was completely different from the one he owed Dumbledore. This was light and somehow good, the most right thing he had ever done.

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