Chapter Text
Chapter One
Harry ducked into the Hog’s Head. His hat that kept his unruly black hair out of sight was at a slight angle with a twig stuck to it, and his robes were also disheveled with spots of mud. Confusing Severus more, Harry hid further behind a column out of view of the door and window. It was scarcely one minute later when the he spotted the blonde head of Rita Skeeter peering into the room from the grimy bay window. After Skeeter disappeared, possibly to harass a citizen of Hogsmeade about Potter’s whereabouts, he approached the young man.
“Are you in need of rescuing again, Potter?”
Potter jumped at his voice, unaware that Severus had approached him let alone that he was in the bar.
“Oh, Professor Snape, I didn’t realize you were here.” His blush of embarrassment spread along his cheeks. “Did you see Rita Skeeter outside? She’s been following me all day.”
The level of respect in the tone showed a marked difference to how he had been treated in the past, by this same individual. In the year since the final battle Potter had gone out of his way to make sure Severus knew he appreciated all he had done in the war effort despite his past transgressions and personal grudge against a boy who’s only sin was to look too much like his father.
“She looked in, but continued down the street. I take it she has yet to interview you about your split with Ms. Weasley.”
“Yeah, that’s what most of her questions have been about.” He scratched the back of his head, dislodging the precariously balanced hat which dropped to the floor. He hastily picked it up and brushed off the debris.
“You’ve been going to great lengths to avoid her, surely she will give up soon. The Great Harry Potter doesn’t give interviews anymore.” It was another step in their tenuous friendship that Potter understood he was being supportive, not derogatory in his comment.
“I can only hope. Skeeter is tenacious when she gets a whiff of a scandal. Anyways, since I’m here can I get you some lunch? I’ve been meaning to come by so we can chat.”
“If you insist, then I suppose so. I was about to head back to Hogwarts for lunch.”
“Good thing I caught you then.” His enthusiasm was confounding. He was used to ex-students who couldn’t wait to get away from him, most still tried to avoid him in the streets. He liked to think it was just his unapproachable attitude and not any former Death Eater ties, but the result was the same. They sat together in the dimly lit corner booth, with a good view of the door.
“It’s just another week until the anniversary at the Ministry, any questions you had for me surely could have waited until then. As war heroes they are requiring us both to attend.” He abhorred ministry functions, where all the smiles were faked until he turned away. Not that it mattered. He was only required to show up and once he had spent a few minutes with Shacklebolt he intended to leave.
“Nonsense Professor. It’s harder to get you to talk about the past than it is to get Ron near an acromantula. In the past year you’ve managed to spend about an hour in my company when you weren’t stuck in the infirmary.” It was true, he had avoided his presence with excuses about the rebuilding, budgets, student placement tests, reformatted class schedules and interviews for new teachers. He had run out of reasons to refuse personal contact. Their frequent letters being the only association he had allowed.
“Now that I’ve got you in person you won’t be able to get away from my questions.”
He sighed exaggeratedly, “If you must Mr. Potter, but don’t expect me to answer.”
The smile that lit up the younger man’s face was blinding. No wonder Witch Weekly had awarded it the Most Charming Smile that year. It was a force to be reckoned with. He hoped his momentary distraction could be attributed to Aberforth’s delivery of some unusual goat cheese and hard bread.
“Can I get you anything?”
“What’s good today? And by good I mean something that won’t cause a trip to the infirmary.”
His snark was laughed away by the old man. “Stick with the stew. Made it fresh this morning.”
As opposed to other days, when it was just reheated. He nodded in approval and Potter held his fingers up to make it a double.
“Are you ever going to wear a color other than black?”
He hadn’t expected that question, maybe something about Lily, or his role in the first war, maybe even something about Dumbledore and that fateful night on the astronomy tower.
“I find that it fits me better than other colors, considering my complexion.” Potter hmmd appropriately.
“True, I can’t see you in periwinkle or turquoise. It would be as laughable as some of Du.. Dumbledore’s old robes. But maybe a sapphire or emerald, even a garnet, something darker that will bring out the depth of your eyes.”
The stumble over Dumbledore’s name was quickly overshadowed by the realization that Harry of all people, who he had glared at frequently, had bothered to return his intense looks and remember the flecks of color that could be seen.
“Not that I’m some sort of fashion expert. Hermione and Ginny were the ones to update my wardrobe after the war. I couldn’t stand Dudley’s castoffs anymore.”
He nodded in approval, as he remember the new form fitting robes and slacks that had graced the front cover of the Daily Prophet during the winter. Gone were the baggy pants and patched shirts, although the infamous Weasley jumper was still worn frequently.
Aberforth brought out their stew without fuss, and conversation was paused as they began to eat.
It was his turn to make small talk. “How are the Aurors treating you? Is training everything you expected?”
“It’s been great actually. I’ve learned a lot. What I like best though is that I’m not treated any different than any of the other recruits. I’m just Harry, and I have to pass on my own merits. It’s very refreshing.”
“Minerva is still a bit disappointed that you decided to forgo your final year in favor of the Auror Corp.”
“I wasn’t ready to go back. I’m still not actually. I don’t know how you can be there day after day with all the awful things…”
They were both thinking of Dumbledore, he could tell, and of all the fallen in the final battle. “There are good memories as well, Potter. I try not to dwell on the past or I wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning.”
He nodded in understanding.
“About next week, the Ministry thing, do you think…” I waited impatiently for his query. “Never mind, I’ll ask you later.”
There was barely anything left in the bowls when the door opened with a flourish and in sauntered Rita Skeeter in all her mauve glory.
“There you are Harry! I’ve been looking all over for you. Now, about Ms. Weasley, is there anything you can tell me about the break up? Was there someone else? Was she unfaithful? My readers want to know!” There is a certain deer caught in headlights look that only Potter seems able to do when confronted with nasty witches. Since I didn’t want to draw undue attention to myself I refrained from laughing aloud.
He looked at me and our almost finished meal. Laying down a few galleons on the table he said, “Excuse me Headmaster, I have someplace else to be. I’ll see you next week.”
It only took a moment and he had apparated away to parts unknown.