A Bond for the Ages

Chapter 22

Harry stared out at the dark grounds, spotted with the little orbs of soft light that came out every night. It was late, really late, so late it was probably bordering on really early, but he couldn't sleep. He'd tried, tossing and turning for hours before finally just leaving the bed and curling up on the window seat. He wanted to not like it, the window seat, the view, the manor, so that it would be easier to leave behind, but he couldn't muster up the hate he wanted. Despite everything with the people he'd shared the space with, the space itself had, in a mere seven weeks, become the most comfortable place he'd ever inhabited. He could hardly imagine leaving, even for Hogwarts, but he had to and he had to make himself okay with it. He tried to focus on the people, Snape and Malfoy, people he couldn't wait to get away from...normally. Just like the manor, he couldn't seem to find that once so common hatred he'd had for the two Slytherins. There was undeniable rage, certainly, for Snape and what he'd learned about the prophecy, but there was also undeniable hurt.

Seven weeks and his life had unravelled.

He ran a hand through his hair roughly and left the window seat. He had one more day at Prince Manor which meant only one more night of a comforting kitchen with comforting tea at four in the morning. So, down he went, keeping his steps light to avoid alerting Snape or Malfoy, and he entered the kitchen. He made a cup of tea quickly, no longer terrified of consequences for being up and doing so. It had happened a handful of times, both alone and with Malfoy, but every time, Snape had simply joined, sometimes talking, sometimes not. He glanced over his shoulder at the thought, wondering if Snape was there yet; he wasn't.

He finished making his tea and took his usual seat at the table. As he waited for it to cool, he looked at all the empty seats; Snape to his left at the head, Malfoy across from him, Alexei and Leif in any of the others as they often moved around. What an odd thing to not want to leave behind, the simple act of eating meals, sitting at this table. Yet, it was more than that. It was normal despite the abnormal company. He and Malfoy shared looks in response to the adults' comments and stories. Snape made sure he ate, more than anyone else had ever done. Leif and Alexei told stories and encouraged steady conversation, even ensuring Snape engaged.

He liked it, but he hated that he liked it. Hated that, soon, it would be like it had never happened and he hated how much it actually hurt. It wasn't like they'd become friends or anything. They barely tolerated each other, but they'd become...something.

He took a sip of his tea and moved his gaze to the window behind Malfoy's seat, watching the glowing orbs dance. He wished it could be easy, that he could just hate the place and them the way he had seven weeks ago. He wanted to hate it all, but...something had changed.

He jumped and nearly spilled his tea when a box was placed on the table beside his arm. He looked from it to Snape who settled into his place at the table, tea in hand. This was the first time in two weeks that he'd been near the professor outside of meals. He'd done quite well avoiding the man, needing to sever whatever had grown between them in the face of the prophecy and their return to Hogwarts. He needed to be okay with things going back to how they used to be, and he was...mostly. Until he was face to face with it, like now. Thiswasn't how it used to be and it made it hard to remember what that was.

"For your headaches and scar pain should you continue to experience visions," Snape said and Harry frowned.

See, this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"Thought we were supposed to help with it?" Harry said.

"It proved to be more complicated than I anticipated, beyond fifth years," Snape said.

Harry nodded slowly. "Thanks, I guess."

Snape said nothing, simply drank his tea. It didn't take long for the rage he wished was hate to rear up inside him. He was well aware Snape was not the only one involved in the murder of his parents, but Snape was the one directly in front of him. It was easier to be angry at someone in front of him rather than just the thought of someone. Snape he could yell at, glare at, try to curse if he was so inclined to risk his life. Besides, being angry at Snape was their normal and that's what they had to get back to in just over twenty-four hours.