They fell into step together and walked in silence back to the castle. It wasn't the normal strained silence that usually existed between them. This one was almost comfortable.
When they reached the hall in front of the main stairs where they had to go their separate ways, Harry said, "Well, good night then. Thanks again for coming with me."
Snape gave another of those cautious nods.
As Harry turned to climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, Snape called, "Potter?"
"Yes?" he paused, turning back.
Snape reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small brown, stoppered bottle. "Take this."
"What is it?" Harry tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
"A potion for Dreamless Sleep. After the memories you took from young Westfield this afternoon, I think you might need it."
Shocked by the thoughtfulness, Harry quickly said, "Thanks. That's very kind of you."
"Hardly," Snape snorted. "You suffered that unpleasantness on my behalf. It's the least I can do."
"So, is this going to make my fingers fall off or my eyes pop out of their sockets?" Harry joked, referring back to their earlier conversation about the danger of befriending crows.
"Both, but only if you take two teaspoons immediately before bed. Pleasant drams – or not as the case may be." Almost seeming self-conscious, Snape gave him a stiff nod and stalked off to the dungeon stairs.
Harry watched the tall figure recede into the dark stairwell until Snape became part of the shadows, then he turned and made his tired way up the stairs to his own quarters. He was glad that tomorrow was Sunday and that he'd have some time to recuperate before he had to face teaching. Fingering the cool bottle in his robe pocket, Harry began climbing the stairs, pondering the puzzle that was Severus Snape.
*~*~*
"Harry, are you in there?" Hermione's voice blared like a Valkyrie through the bedroom.
Harry shot up in bed. Unused to such deep, untroubled sleep, it took him a moment to get his bearings and figure out where he was. It turned out to be his own chambers at Hogwarts, with Hermione pounding on the other side of his door as loud as his head normally pounded.
Only, this morning he had no headache. His body wasn't throbbing with exhaustion. To the contrary, he felt well rested for the first time in nearly a decade. Most importantly, there'd been no dreams. Snape's potion had worked wonders.
"Harry, are you in there?" she repeated, sounding frantic with worry.
"Yeah, I'm here. Come on in," Harry called, knowing she wouldn't enter without his permission.
The door adjoining their quarters was always left open, so she didn't have to pass his wards to enter. The only boundaries Hermione ever heeded were his bedroom and bathroom doors, and Ron didn't even respect those after all the years they'd spent rooming together.
Looking particularly bright in her pink jumper and blue jeans, Hermione hurried into the bedroom, her haste making her bushy brown hair fly around her face as she crossed to the bed.
"Are you okay?" she asked, sitting down beside his knees as Harry pulled himself up in the bed.
"Yes, why?"
"I came to see you last night when I got back from the Ministry and waited for hours," she said, scanning his face like a worried mother.
Touched by her concern, Harry explained, "Sorry. I should have left a note. The walls were closing in, so we went out for a while."
"We?" Hermione asked.
"Snape and I went to the Three Broomsticks," Harry explained.
"You went drinking with Snape?" Ron's sleepy, shocked voice demanded from near the door.
Harry looked over to see Ron in his rumpled hair and white nightshirt standing just inside his bedroom door. Still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Ron had the morning paper in his hand and had obviously poked his head in on his way to or from the loo. He came over and climbed onto the foot of Harry's bed and settled into a comfortable sprawl.
Some things never changed, Harry thought fondly as he took in the sight of his two best friends – Hermione sitting prim and neat as a Headmistress and Ron looking as though he were about to fall back asleep against the footboard. Nearly every weekend morning that he was home and slept in, the pair of them came in to chat before breakfast. They were the only real family he'd ever had and he cherished these moments, awkward as their early morning arrivals could sometimes be.
"I wouldn't call it drinking with him. More like dinner and a chat," Harry corrected.
"With Snape?" Ron repeated.
"Yeah, it wasn't so bad. I actually enjoyed it," Harry said.
"You did?" Ron sounded as thought the concept of anyone enjoying anything with Snape was beyond belief.
"Yes. We were both pretty shaken and it helped," Harry explained.
Ron's tired blue eyes were looking at him like he'd announced a desire to date Filch.
"How is Professor Snape doing?" Hermione asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
Harry shrugged. "Yesterday was hard on him. Which reminds me. Ron?"
"Mmmm?" Ron's eyes jerked open.
"Did you realize that you never thanked Snape for his help yesterday? And no one ever told him he was free to go," Harry said.
"Damn. I'm sorry, Harry. You're right. We cut out of there very quickly. I'll make sure to apologize today. That wasn't at all professional," Ron said.
Mollified by Ron's easy acceptance of responsibility, Harry nodded. "Thanks."
"For what?" Ron asked.
"For bringing me tea?" Harry said with a hopeful grin.
"But we haven't brought you any tea," a clearly under-slept Ron responded, before going, "Oh."
With a giggle, Hermione withdrew her wand from her jeans pocket and summoned a tray that contained a steaming pot of brewed tea, three huge mugs, and condiments. While the tray floated patiently beside her, she poured them all a cuppa and fixed it to their preferences, handing Harry the first one, Ron the next, and keeping her own for last.
"Ta very much," Harry smiled and then took a deep slurp.
"Such subtlety should be rewarded," she sassed.
"Did you have any luck tracking Burke down yesterday?" Harry asked, though he knew Ron hadn't or he would have heard of it. For something like that, someone would have woken or owled him with the news.
"No. The Ministry gave us a list of the Burke holdings that's more than three feet long. You wouldn't believe how many estates the man's got! He's richer than the bloody Malfoys. We went through three manors yesterday. I'm due at work in another hour to head another search."
"Oh. Do you want some help?" Harry asked, not liking the idea of Ron poking around the lair of someone Snape considered Voldemort's equal.
"I appreciate the offer, but you know how the Ministry is about unofficial assistance," Ron said.
"Even from Harry?" Hermione challenged, also clearly concerned.
There were the rare occasions when being the Boy Who Lived and having defeated Voldemort came in handy, Harry reflected at the tone of her question. Dealing with the Ministry was usually one of them.
Ron shrugged. "If it were up to me . . . ."
"Well, if you think you've tracked him down, let me know, okay?" Harry asked. "I won't interfere. I won't even be seen, but I'd like to be there."
Ron appeared uncertain for a moment, but then he nodded. "All right, if I can."
"Thanks," Harry acknowledged, aware that Ron would be going out on a limb for him. If his presence were discovered, there was every possibility Ron would lose his job. The Aurors had been trying to improve their image for the last nine years. Ron's new boss, Lawrence was a stickler for the rules.
"So, what did you and Professor Snape talk about over dinner, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You were gone for a long time."
In between sips, Harry began his tale.
"Rosmerta touched him?" Ron sounded totally shocked when Harry got to that part of his story.
"She didn't just touch him. She kissed him on the cheek before we left," Harry reported.
"And Professor Snape didn't petrify her?" Hermione asked.
Harry gave a negative shake of his head and continued. "I think he genuinely likes her."
"What man wouldn't?" Ron said. "Maybe he's human, after all."
For some reason, Harry found himself miffed by Ron's put down. Since he would have said the same thing himself yesterday morning, he let it pass.
"So Professor Snape really does think this Burke is as dangerous as he let on yesterday?" Hermione asked.
Ron seemed to listen at first as Hermione and he discussed Burke, but when they didn't expand on anything that had been mentioned yesterday, Ron's attention seemed to wander. Deep in conversation with Hermione, Harry watched in amusement out of the corner of his eye as Ron started to nod off, jerked himself awake, and then opened his newspaper in an obvious effort to keep himself from falling back to sleep at the foot of Harry's bed. His old friend really could use a few more hours sleep, Harry thought, returning his full focus to Hermione's question about how Burke might have prolonged his life.
"Bloody hell," Ron cursed, straightening up from his slouch.
"What?" Hermione and Harry chorused as one.
"Look at this! How the hell did this get out? Lawrence is going to be livid!" Ron said as he thrust the Daily Prophet at them.
Harry's gaze focused on the moving photo of a sneering Snape that graced the front of the paper. It was quite probably the ugliest, most threatening photo Harry had ever seen of the man. Beside it was the caption: Former Death Eater Accused of Molesting Hogwarts' Student.
Apparently reading upside down, Hermione gasped as she peered over the top of the paper.
Harry quickly read the Rita Skeeter article, which detailed the rape of an unnamed student and openly accused the Potions master of long-term sexual abuse of other students. Harry could barely finish the article; he was so infuriated by its implications.
"This is terrible," Hermione whispered.
"Damn that woman!" Harry snarled.
Ron added, "If you ever get her in a jar again, I swear I'm going to spray an entire can of Muggle bug spray on her!"
"That's not helping, Ronald!" Hermione chastised.
"I'm serious," Ron said.
"It's still not helping," she responded.
"Can't she leave anyone alone? She knows this isn't true. Anyone at the Ministry who would have leaked the information about the accusations against Professor Snape would have also known of his innocence." Harry slammed his mug down onto the night table and got out of bed.
"We don’t know when she got her information, Harry," Hermione protested. "She could have heard yesterday afternoon when Martin and McGregor were sent to arrest Professor Snape."
"And Voldemort could have been a philanthropist and Mugglelover, if it weren't for a couple of dozen scores of murders," Harry answered. He picked his wand up from the nightstand and stormed into the bathroom to have a quick pee, the only thing he couldn't use magic to cut back time on in his morning routine. As he stood staring down into the white toilet bowl to empty his bladder, he could hear Ron and Hermione talking on the other side of the half open door.
When Harry emerged from the loo a minute later, dressed and ready to go, Ron was dressed and his bed was made. Magic made life so much easier. It would have taken an additional five to ten minutes if they'd had to dress the way Muggles did.
"Do you think Minerva knows yet?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know, it's still early. She doesn't usually get down to the hall this early on a Sunday," Ron answered as they headed for the door.
"What about Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned a little breathless as they raced down the moving stairs like errant first years. Neither he nor Hermione had on their teachers' robes, Harry belatedly realized, silently summoning them as they ran.
"The man lives under a rock," Ron said. "He never reads the paper without a reason."
"This is a pretty good reason, Ron," Hermione pointed out, her words ending on a gasp as her teachers robe came flying up to her fast as the latest model Firebolt.
"God, Harry, warn a girl, will you!" she said, grabbing the garment and pulling it on as Harry did the same with his own.
They slowed their pace to a respectful power walk as a pair of students emerged from a nearby corridor.
When they got to the Great Hall, Snape was already at the teachers' table. Sinistra and Flitwick were at the far end speaking to each other, and Neville was just entering the hall from the other end.
As Ron had mentioned, the hour was still early for a Sunday. Even so, the House tables were filling up fairly fast.
Harry could almost hear the susurration of shock pass through the hall as student after student passed along the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. The chain reaction taking place was amazing, really. Harry watched the Gryffindor table. The dark haired Ruben Willis was laughing and joking with his mates until the blond Jon Peterson tapped his shoulder and passed him the paper. Willis took one glance at the front page, made to pass it on, and then froze as his brain obviously caught up with what he'd read. Then his smile dropped and he concentrated his full attention on the paper. When he was done, he tapped the boy next to him and wordlessly passed it on, then turned to stare up at the Potion Master at the teachers' table in horrified accusation.
Frozen in the doorway, Harry watched as the paper was passed from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin table, where the exact reaction occurred.
Meanwhile, up at the teachers' table, Snape was utterly oblivious to what was happening below. His nose in a potions journal, his scratched right hand absently stirring a spoon through his teacup, Snape was completely absorbed.
"Come on," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, and led the way to the teachers' table.
