"I think I'd like that," John said, standing. He moved to the corner to retrieve Harry's spare Firebolt. "Um, here's your broom back. You were right. There was nothing like it. Thanks for teaching me."
Knowing how hard it must be for John to part with the broom, how he'd feel if he'd just learned to fly and had to give the broom up immediately afterward, Harry said, "Why don't you keep it? I've got another. This one's just sitting in a corner these days."
"God, I'm tempted, but . . . it won't fit in my luggage. I don't know if I could explain what I'm doing with a broom when I get back to base." John looked really torn.
"We'll shrink it." Harry said, doing so. John's eyes bugged out as they did whenever Harry worked even the simplest spells in his presence. "You could even carry it in your pocket now if you wanted." Realizing that John mightn't know how to expand it again, he took the small notebook out of his robes that he'd been carrying most of yesterday. "I made you up a book of simple spells. The phonetic pronunciation is beside the Latin."
"That's what you were doing when I was in the shower last night?" John asked.
"Yeah. I reckoned you might need some cheat notes when you get back."
"Thanks, Harry. That's really . . . ."
"Cool?" Harry suggested when words seemed to fail John.
The use of his favourite adjective made John smile, as Harry had hoped it would. "Yeah, exactly."
"You up to that breakfast?" Harry asked. He knew he had a lot to think about, a lot of emotion to process after what Severus had done to him, but at the moment, it felt good to not worry about the mess his life was in.
"Yeah, that sounds wonderful."
Side by side, they headed for the door.
*~*~*
Three hours later, Harry stood with John outside Heathrow's security check. Hundreds of Muggles passed them, hurrying about their business. He always forgot how frenetic the Muggle world could be. All the motion made him a little nervous. John, too, seemed unused to it.
"I hate goodbyes," John said.
"Me, too," Harry agreed.
"I don't usually make friends this fast," John said. "I know it didn't start out that way, but that's what it feels like now."
"Yeah," Harry replied. He knew John had to leave, and he knew it was better for everyone if John just disappeared from his world, but . . . he genuinely liked the man. There was a part of him that really didn't want to see him go.
"Sometimes I hate the way the world is," John said, his voice dropping he continued, "I, um, can't even kiss you goodbye."
"My world's not much better."
John seemed to debate something for a moment.
Harry was worried that his friend would say something awkward in these last moments that would ruin the memory of the weekend, but when John spoke, he didn't say anything embarrassing. Instead, he said, "You probably figured out that Shepford isn't my real name."
"Yeah," Harry said.
John dug into the pocket of his black leather jacket and extracted a piece of paper. It was the same pocket he was carrying his new wand in. Harry could see the bulge the wand made in the leather.
"I, um, know that everything changed with you when you got your memories back, but . . . I like you, Harry. I'd like to keep in touch with you. Write me and let me know how things work out with your friend – either way. This isn't a come-on. I'd just like to know."
Touched, Harry stared down at the paper John placed in his hand. It had John's real name and the military base he could be reached at written on it.
"Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, is in a galaxy far, far away?" Harry joked.
"You'd be surprised," John said with one of his trademark grins. "Or maybe not."
Harry reached into the pocket of the Muggle jacket he'd transfigured before apparating them to Heathrow and withdrew a paper that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Muggle mail doesn't deliver where I live, but you can reach me care of The Leaky Cauldron. The owner's a friend of mine."
Their hands touched as John took the paper from him.
Reading the same things he was feeling in John's eyes, Harry took a deep breath and said in a soft voice, "Some very powerful wizards can work deflection spells that make them all but invisible." He radiated his power around them, including even the airport security cameras in the circle he cast. "Can you feel that?"
John gave a slow nod.
"We just became invisible to everyone around us." Harry said. "Not even the most powerful wizard can change the world we live in, but we can sometimes escape its eye for a few minutes. We can go for that goodbye kiss if you want."
Harry recognized the level of trust he was asking for here. John might be able to sense the power vibrating around them, but his Muggle-reared friend had no way of knowing what type of spell he'd actually cast.
"You still want to kiss me now that you don't have amnesia anymore?" John asked.
"Friends kiss," Harry said, reaching out to lay his hand on John's arm.
John leaned in and pressed his mouth to Harry's.
When they withdrew a long, breathless time later, John said, "Not like that, they don't."
"Maybe not," Harry agreed. "We'll work on it next time."
"Will there be a next time?" John questioned, his uncertainty palpable.
"Maybe not for the after hours activities, but I'd really like to work on the friendship part."
"Me, too." John's hazel gaze strayed to a nearby departure board which showed the time at the bottom. "I've really got to get through security now. Thanks for everything, Harry."
"Take care of yourself, John."
"I'll write to you and let you know I got home safe. It might be a few weeks. Cheyenne isn't where I'm posted. It's where the mail gets routed through. Um, if you write back, you probably shouldn't mention the magic. I'm in a top secret facility and all the mail is screened."
"So no mention of the after hours activities, either, then?" Harry checked.
"God, what with the magic, I didn't even think of that. But, yeah, we probably shouldn't mention that, either. I've really got to go now."
"Yeah," Harry said, wishing John didn't, for all that his presence would complicate things immensely.
"That invisibility screen still up?" John checked.
At Harry's nod, John gave him another kiss. This one was fast and almost platonic.
"That more like friends?" John asked when they parted.
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"I hope things work out for you," John offered.
"Me, too. Safe trip."
With one last touch to his cheek, John seemed to tear himself away.
Harry watched the glaring Muggle lights glint off John's leather jacket and his dark, messy hair until his lover was lost in the crowd.
His invisibility shield, as John had called the deflection spell, still up around him, Harry apparated to Hogwarts' gates.
*~*~*
Reality hit him hard when he was back in the castle. John had been a welcome distraction this morning, but now that his new friend had left, Harry had no choice but to deal with his feelings.
Needing some time alone, he retreated to his room, entering through the door on the corridor instead of through Ron and Hermione's place as was his habit. Although he could hear them speaking softly in the sitting room beyond the open door that connected their quarters, they didn't hear him enter and he was able to make it to his bedroom undetected.
The February afternoon outside his windows was as grey and depressing as Harry's life felt at the moment. He didn't even bother lighting the wall sconces or the hearth. He just headed for his bed and stretched out on it. Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the blue velvet canopy overhead, trying to figure out how he felt.
The hours that had intervened since he'd gotten his memories back hadn't really dimmed his fury any. There was still a storm raging through him, a storm that screamed to be vented magically.
It scared him how much he wanted to just blast Severus with all this anger, to let Severus feel how much he'd hurt him. He hadn't felt anything like this since that time he'd eavesdropped on Minister Fudge, Professor McGonagall, and Rosmerta's private conversation about Sirius back in third year. He might have been angrier at Burke in January, but that hate hadn't involved this level of confusion. He simply didn't know what to do with the firestorm raging inside him.
He hadn't lied to John this morning when he'd said he still loved Severus, but, he didn't know if that love was going to be enough. The man he'd thought he loved would never have violated the integrity of his mind the way Severus had the other night. Perhaps if Severus had demonstrated any sign of remorse, he might have been less incensed about what had happened. He couldn't say. All he knew was that Severus' complete lack of regret made him twice as furious with the man.
He wasn't used to having this kind of anger towards someone he loved. Ron, Hermione, and he might have the occasional squabble from time to time, but never had either of his closest friends done the kind of thing Severus had done to him. Hell, his enemies hadn't done things like this to him. This type of betrayal was outside his ken. He still couldn't believe Severus had done it, had just erased their love the way he had.
How did you forgive someone for something like that?
The pain inside him told him that forgiveness mightn't be possible. Some things never went away, no matter how much a person might want to forget about them. What Severus had done might really have finished them more effectively than the amnesia he'd given him. At least when not knowing what they'd had, he'd been able to be around the man, but now . . . he didn't know if he could interact with Severus, not without this fury inside him wanting to target the man. He was just so damn hurt and angry.
Turning over, he buried his face in his pillow and gave in to his pain.
*~*~*
"Harry? Are you in there?" Hermione's worried voice penetrated the pitch black room hours later.
"Yeah," Harry tried to sound normal, but even he could hear how rough his voice sounded.
She was on the bedside in an instant, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
He opened his mouth to answer and then snapped it immediately shut on the hysterical laughter that bubbled up inside him at the enormity of what he'd have to explain. When he thought he'd gotten a handle on the mania, he muttered, "Nothing."
"Harry, something's wrong. You've been crying," Hermione protested, reaching out to touch his sticky cheek.
Her palm felt very cool against his overheated skin. Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Harry said, "I can't talk about it. Not yet."
He could feel her watching him in the dark. He appreciated that she didn't light the wall sconces or fire to see him better.
She just brushed his sweaty, tear-soaked hair back from his face and said, "Okay. You don't have to talk about it." Her other hand settled on his back, exerting the softest of pressure.
He fell into her arms as if from a great height. He definitely felt as disconcerted as he had after the rare quidditch accident as he buried his face in the hair on her shoulder and just soaked in the familiar comfort of her presence as she stroked his back.
He pulled back a long time later and gave her a shaky smile. "Thanks, Hermione."
"There's nothing to thank me for, silly," she said.
Her hand reached for his face again. He held still as the cool washcloth she'd manifested with a murmured spell moved over his cheeks, removing all traces of his breakdown.
"Do you feel up to dinner?"
He wasn't sure he felt up to breathing, but since that wasn't likely to change any time in the near future and he had responsibilities to meet, he gave a slow nod.
"Wonderful. Come on, then. Let's get up. Here are your teacher's robes." Standing beside the bed, she held out the black robes he'd left on the nearby chair before they'd gone to the Three Broomsticks on Friday night, back when he'd been living in the cheerful oblivion of selective amnesia.
He slipped into them and stood still while she buttoned them for him.
"I'm not a child, you know," he said at last.
"I know. But sometimes we all need a little TLC, right? You can button my robes for me the next time I'm in a funk."
Rallying, Harry said, "Ron might have a word or two to say about that."
She chuckled and agreed, "Yes, he might at that."
The lights in the Weasleys' sitting room seemed unnaturally bright. They nearly blinded him as he stepped into the room.
Ron was sitting on the couch, reading the quidditch section of the Sunday Prophet. He looked up and gave a less than welcoming, "Oh, you're back, are you?"
Harry couldn't really blame him. As far as Ron knew, he'd turned his back on Severus for a weekend fling.
Hermione's chastising, "Ronald!" was ringing through the air when Ron's voice and expression changed and he asked in a worried tone, "What's wrong?"
Harry opened his mouth, not knowing how to explain.
Hermione was still acting as his protector, for she quickly explained, "Harry's not up to talking about it right now. We're just all going to go down and have dinner now. All right?"
There was a pleading note in her voice that touched Harry deeply.
"Ah, sure," Ron answered, visibly perplexed. He looked from Hermione to Harry, then back to Hermione as if trying to figure out what was happening from their expressions. After a moment, he said, "Sorry about the attitude, mate."
"It's okay," Harry said, wishing that his voice didn't sound so thick. He knew he sounded like he'd spent the last few hours crying. Pity, magic only went so far. He could cast a glamour that would hide all of London at this point, but there wasn't anything he could do to hide what he was feeling, not from these two.
