Chapter 12: The Calm Before the Storm

     He was cold. Bitterly, bone-chillingly cold. There was no sound in the impenetrable darkness, no tactile sensation except for the cold. It was with a vague detachment that he wondered where he was and how he had gotten there. He found, however, that he was not worried, just mildly curious. How long he had been hanging in the void, he did not know, nor did he truly care. He had the faintest notion that there was something important that he should be remembering, something that had happened, was happening, or would soon be happening, but he was content to remain oblivious and let someone else take care of it. 

     “Harry…”

     The voice whispered through the void, reaching out to him and insinuating itself into his mind. It sounded familiar, that word breathed as if by one last dying breath. Where had he...?

     Memory came flooding back, bursting through his hazy mind and sweeping the vague indifference away. Peripheral vision returned, causing him to blink. The darkness, Harry realized suddenly, was the cowl of the dementor, still leaning over him. And the cold was originating, not from the bony fingers digging into his shoulders as he first suspected, but from somewhere deep within himself, leaving him feeling drained and mind-numbingly exhausted. I think I burnt myself out. He blinked again, a tendril of annoyance curling through the weariness. Okay there, buddy. Back the hell off and get out of my face. That he was scowling at a dementor barely registered with him.

     Straightening up, feeling every muscle protest angrily at the movement, Harry took a step backward away from the dementor that would not stop looming over him and nearly tripped over something behind him. Of all the damn…

     Reaching down a hand to steady himself, Harry touched something cool and clammy. Surprised, he jerked his hand back and glanced around. Everyone in the room was staring at him in varying degrees of concern, surprise, and shock. Irritated at himself, struggling against the exhaustion that was making him stumble around like a brainless idiot, Harry glared back at the dementor who was still standing too close for comfort.

     Fumbling for his wand, nearly dropping it, Harry waved it unconvincingly at the dementor. “Expecto pa… Oh, fuck it.” I’m too tired for this nonsense. Harry threw down his wand in disgust and scowled at the world in general.

     “What do you think you’re doing, interfering with a trial?” came an outraged demand from his side.

     Harry turned to see Cornelius Fudge striding over, self-righteous indignation plastered all over his face. Harry’s eyes narrowed as a fresh surge of energy swept through him and drowned out the exhaustion.

     “You!” the words left him in a snarl.

     At this point, there were two options open to Harry. He could start screaming the truth about Fudge at the top of his lungs, or he could conjure up the image that he had seen two days ago at dinner. Screaming seemed at little too arduous at the moment. And there was absolutely no way that Harry was going to be able to gather enough magical energy, much less the concentration required, to create such a vision.

     There were many advantages to being a part of the wizarding world. Teleportation that cut down the amount of time necessary to travel, house elves to do the chores, magical spells that made doing most other tasks unnecessary, and flying broomsticks that made for an awesome sport. The downside to being a part of that world was the reliance on the magic to the exclusion of actual physical involvement, and the complacency that this reliance engendered. To put it simply, Fudge never even saw it coming.

     Before he could really give it much thought, Harry lunged forward, tackling the Minister of Magic to the ground. Caught off-guard and momentarily stunned by the impact of his head hitting the floor, Fudge could only lay there groggily as Harry climbed on top of him and started untangling his arm from his robes. Realization of what Harry was doing must have intruded on Fudge’s stupor, because he began to struggle to dislodge Harry, who gritted his teeth and hung on. Oh, the hell with it, Harry decided finally, shifting his grip on the Minister and driving an elbow into Fudge’s chin, effectively knocking the Minister out. 

     The surge of adrenaline was rapidly ebbing, the return of the exhaustion beginning to creep over Harry like a large, smothering blanket. Tamping down on the gleeful grin that hitting the Minister had produced, Harry wrestled the arm clear of its concealing sleeve and held it up for the jury and the rest of the audience to see. “Your Death Eater!”

     The room, stunned silent by the drama unfolding, exploded into a loud clamor as Harry wearily got to his feet and dropped Fudge’s arm back to the floor. Straightening his glasses, which had gotten knocked askew in the scuffle with Fudge, Harry focused on the witch who had spoken for the jury.

     “I accuse Cornelius Fudge of not only being a Death Eater, but of also working all these years to foil Albus Dumbledore’s efforts to prepare the wizarding world for Voldemort’s return.” Just long enough to see this through, Harry thought desperately, bargaining with his body as he felt it starting to succumb to the exhaustion. Just let me stay awake long enough to see Fudge in chains and Severus free. After that, I’ll sleep for a year if need be. “I accuse Cornelius Fudge of planting false evidence in an effort to exact revenge on Severus Snape for turning his back on the Dark Lord and aiding Albus Dumbledore in Voldemort’s defeat.”

     “What evidence do you bring to support your claims?” the witch asked, though not without some hesitation. Are you afraid of me?

     “The Dark Mark on his arm. And the request that you put him, myself, and Severus Snape to a test of Veritaserum,” Harry forced his eyes to remain open as he held her eyes. “Ask us. Ask us anything you want.”

     The witch stared at him a moment more before turning to confer with her associates. Harry was aware of Severus’ eyes on him, could feel the presence of the other man, but refused to turn and look his way. Your safety comes first. Everything else must wait. Steadfastly, Harry kept his eyes on the jury. The conference was short.

     “We accept your request, Harry Potter,” the witch announced. “Veritaserum will be administered to each of you.” She stepped down from her bench, moving forward until she stood next to Harry and the unconscious Fudge. “Ennervate,” she commanded, pointing her wand at the Minister.

     The spell took effect almost immediately. With a groan, the Minister’s eyes opened and he looked around in confusion before recollection caused him to get hastily to his feet and point a shaking hand at Harry.

     “I place you under arrest!” Fudge yelled angrily. “For attacking a Ministry official, you will-”

     “He will do nothing, Cornelius, until we investigate his claim that you are a Death Eater,” the witch cut him off, gesturing to the dementor as Fudge paled and attempted to back away. “Hold him.”

     The dementor glided past Harry without a glance, wrapping its hand around Fudge’s arm. The Minister blanched and looked at the witch pleadingly. “Morgan, please, you can’t possibly believe him! You know me!”

     The witch, Morgan, glanced pointedly at his arm before meeting his eyes. “I know the Dark Mark when I see it, Cornelius. Perhaps I do not you at all.”

     A wizard came forward then, bearing in his hand a large vial. Thanking him, Morgan took it from him and approached the Minister. “Do not fight me, Cornelius.”

     Fudge ignored her, settling a malevolent glare on Harry. “It will not last, Potter,” he sneered vindictively, his words for Harry’s understanding alone.

     Harry looked back at him impassively. “It will last long enough,” he murmured quietly.

     The questioning lasted for what seemed like ages. The first question posed to Fudge was the validity of Harry’s accusation of being a Death Eater. When Fudge could do nothing but confirm that fact, he was asked if the evidence against Severus was false. That question was immediately followed by verification that Severus was not, in fact, a Death Eater. This admission led to Severus being released from the chair and Fudge chained down in his place. Satisfied that Severus was free, Harry sat down on the floor and drifted off into a doze.

     “Harry Potter?”

     It was a struggle that Harry nearly lost to drag himself back into something resembling lucidity and open his eyes. Morgan’s face swam into view. Must be done with Fudge. “I’ll take it now,” he told her, figuring that she was going to ask him to take a drought of Veritaserum.

     “That will not be necessary.” She smiled a gentle, encouraging smile. “After hearing Cornelius’ testimony, we are thoroughly convinced of his guilt. All we ask is that you tell us how you knew.”

     Almost over. Severus will be home soon. Just this small bit more. Staggering to his feet, Harry explained the vision he had had the night Severus was taken away. At first his words came haltingly, stumbling over each other in his fight to remain conscious. But as he spoke, the feelings of remembered panic and concern lent him the strength to fight off the exhaustion one more time.

     “Fudge was lying,” Harry concluded finally. “I couldn’t let him convince you that Severus was guilty.”

     “You exposed a very dangerous traitor who was holding a position of trust and confidence,” Morgan responded, the tone of anger in her voice evidence to her feelings of betrayal by a man she had trusted. “You have the Ministry’s deepest thanks.”

     “Is Severus…”

     The witch smiled, gave Harry a small nod, and turned to the audience. “Severus Snape has been fully exonerated of all charges brought against him by the traitor Cornelius Fudge. To you, Severus, we offer the Ministry’s deepest apologies.”

     Harry risked a glance at Severus then, when the man’s attention was focused on the jury’s spokesperson. The man’s face was bland and cool, but Harry could see a tumult of emotions raging behind the thin veneer of ice that frosted over the dark eyes. I’m in trouble. Teetering on the edge of consciousness as he was, Harry would have had to be completely dead to have not realized what that mangle of emotions meant.

     “I trust that you will take no offense when I say that I hope to never see this place nor this gathering of people again,” Severus replied neutrally. 

     “None taken,” Morgan gave him an understanding smile. “This court is adjourned.”

     Harry watched the dementor lead Fudge away; looking away only after the former Minister had passed through the doorway. Here we go. He took a deep breath, blinked his eyes a few times in the futile hope to buy himself a little more time in the realm of wakefulness, and turned to face Severus for the first time since he had interrupted the trial.

     The glittering gaze held him as soon as their eyes met. After a moment of scrutiny, the muscle in Severus’ jaw twitched.

     “Are you all right?” Harry asked, wanting to know before the berating began or he passed out.

     “Am I all right?” Severus sounded just a bit incredulous.

     “Did he hurt you?” Harry clarified patiently, absently noticing that the floor was beginning to tilt at an odd angle.

     “Did…” Severus paused, studying Harry for a moment, apparently oblivious to the floor working its way to becoming vertical. “No, he did not.”

     Relief flooded through him. Severus was all right. After everything, Severus was all right. And he was free! Severus was free to go home. I did it. The thought slipped through Harry’s mind as the floor completed its journey. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

     “Harry?”

     Harry blinked, the blurry image of Severus’ face taking shape as he slowly regained consciousness. Severus! Must save… The momentary panic began to subside as memories of the trial and its final outcome came filtering back through Harry’s somewhat befuddled mind. He struggled into a sitting position. “Where…? How long…?” His throat felt as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton down it while he wasn’t paying attention.

     Severus held up a hand to forestall the continuation of any more questions. “You are in the infirmary at Hogwarts. As to how long you have been blissfully unaware of the rest of the world, thirty two hours.”

     “Water?”

     Severus scowled. “I am not your nursemaid, Mister Potter.” Regardless of his muttering, Severus still conjured a glass of water and held it out to Harry, not rising from the chair he was sitting in. “I trust you can manage such a simple task as drinking on your own.”

     It’s going to be one of these, I see, Harry thought with resignation, reaching out to take the glass and nearly slopping most of the water on himself. Yet despite his fumbling, Harry managed to drink enough to remove the dry scratchiness that prevented him from talking with anything but a croak. Setting the empty glass on the table, Harry discovered his glasses resting within arm’s reach and put them on.

     “You’ve been sitting here the whole time, haven’t you?” It was just a hunch, but the deepening of Severus’ scowl told Harry that his hunch had been correct. “Severus, why-”

     “What the hell did you think you were doing?” the words exploded from Severus in a rush, as the man leaned forward in the chair, scowling indifference replaced with the seething anger that had been lurking beneath the cool surface. “Of all the irresponsible, stupid, moronic things you have done these many years, that little display of idiocy outdid them all!”

     Harry could only stare at him in amazement. He was prepared for a severe talking to, but he hadn’t expected this. It was always a bad sign, when Severus Snape started yelling and swearing.

     “What were you thinking, gathering in all of that magic? Do you have any idea what that could have done to what little there is of your mind? You bloody fool!” Severus continued to rage, looking as if he wanted to reach over and strangle Harry. “And the dementor! You could have been stripped of your soul with that stupid stunt!”

     Whatever was the matter with me, thinking that you might actually appreciate what I did for you? Harry was tired, sore, and more than a little put out that Severus couldn’t have said at least one nice thing before launching into his tirade. “Severus…” Harry began, opting for diplomacy. Hope springs eternal, so I hear.

     “What the hell were you thinking?” Severus snarled over him. “Were you thinking? Or was that little display evidence that you do not know the meaning of the word?”

     As was usually the case in situations where Severus was being an unreasonable git, Harry’s temper snapped. “It still wasn’t enough for you, was it?” he demanded angrily.

     “What are you talking about?”

     “Even a soul isn’t enough of a sacrifice for you!”

     “What?” The deflated whisper punched a hole through Harry’s anger.

     “I didn’t forget what you said that night,” Harry told Severus quietly, holding his gaze. “No one has ever given back what was taken. And no one has ever truly cared.” How can I say this, Severus, so that you understand? “There isn’t a lot that I’ve got in this world to give away that hasn’t already been taken from me. All I truly have is myself. But I will gladly give myself for you.”

     The blood drained from Severus’ face as the ice in his eyes shattered. The hand on the arm of the chair clenched convulsively. Severus swallowed, trying to form words that would not come.

     “In a way you’re right,” Harry continued, feigning to be oblivious to the emotions playing across Severus’ face and giving the other man time to regain control of himself. “I wasn’t thinking, not really. I just kept hearing Albus’ reassurance that something would happen to save you, but nothing was happening and he wasn’t even preparing to do anything. When I saw the dementor, I just snapped.”

     “What did you do?” Severus had overcome the battle he had been fighting with himself to ask. “The spell you cast. What was it?”

     Harry shrugged. “It wasn’t a spell. I wasn’t really actually doing anything. I just refused to accept what was happening to you.”

     Frustration defeated the residual resistance holding out somewhere near his heart. “You had to have done something. The magic did not decide to hold everyone motionless while it came streaming into you all on its own.”

     “If I did something, I don’t know what it was,” Harry protested honestly. “I wasn’t trying a spell. I wasn’t even trying to come up with a new spell. I was just angry and scared and determined not to let anything happen to you. You were innocent, and I knew that if I could just show everyone the truth of that, they’d let you go. I saw what Fudge did to you that night he took you to Azkaban, and I couldn’t let him get away with it. I knew you could be rescued, I believe in Albus that much, but he wasn’t doing anything and I just couldn’t keep sitting there. I just… I wanted it to stop. I wanted them to see.”

     “That is it? That is how you survived the Dementor’s Kiss?”

     Harry glared at Severus. “I’m not lying to you!”

     “I did not accuse you of lying to me,” Severus replied calmly. “I just fail to see how-”

     “It’s magic!” Harry interrupted in aggravation. “What more do you need to know?”

     “I am aware that it was magic,” Severus spoke as if speaking to a slow-witted child. “However, what I would like to know is how-”

     “But that’s just it,” Harry interrupted again. “You’re not listening to me at all. It’s magic, Severus! It’s not supposed to make sense. It’s not supposed to conform to nice little rules. That’s anathema to what it is! It’s magic – the suspension of the rules, the power that exists outside of all the order and law we try to impose on our reality!”

     “You want me to believe that the magic itself just decided to come to your aid?”

     “I don’t know why it happened the way it did! But I also don’t know why my broom flies. I don’t know why I could point at someone and yell ‘Avada Kedavra’ and watch them die,” Harry threw up his hands. “I don’t understand why we can do what we do and others cannot. All I do know is that it’s magic. And all of our rules, laws, words, and wands can’t really contain it. It’s magic. All those things don’t apply, in the end.”

     They stared at each other in silence then. Harry could see Severus carefully weighing his words. Damn it, Severus. I don’t know what happened. I just know it happened. And I’m thankful for it. Whatever it was.

     “Perhaps,” Severus suggested after a time, “it would be best to limit this information to a select group of people. I do not think it wise for the wizarding world as a whole to know that sometimes the magic ‘just does things’ without the conscious control of the wielder.”

     “No, somehow I think that’d be a bad idea,” Harry agreed, mental images of the chaos and confusion that such an announcement would cause running through his head.

     “For now-” A sudden yawn interrupted him. “-we shall just pass it off as Harry Potter being Harry Potter.”

     In the end, everything, whether good or bad, got chalked up to “Harry being Harry.” He had long ago learned not to fight it. Regardless of what he said, everything he did took on some special significance for no other reason than because it was the Boy Who Lived that had done it.    

     “Did you get any sleep at all?” Harry inquired, refusing to back down about acknowledging that Severus had remained in the infirmary while he had slept.

     “A couple of brief naps,” Severus conceded finally. “Nothing more. This chair is not exactly conducive to restful sleep.”

     “What were you doing in the chair the whole time? Even if you refused to return to your quarters, you could have at least used one of the empty beds here.” Even as he asked, Harry knew the answer. You didn’t want to leave. And you stayed in that chair on purpose because it wouldn’t allow you to fall asleep. Harry was deeply touched by the gesture. You don’t have to say anything, Severus. Your actions speak so much louder than your voice anyway.

     Severus shot him a piercing look, as if he knew what Harry was thinking, before allowing the corner of his lips to twist into a half-smile. “I find that I have gotten used to sleeping in chairs these past few years.”

     Harry couldn’t help grinning at the memories the joke awakened. “Thank you,” he said simply, knowing that Severus would understand everything he wasn’t saying. “You need to go to bed, Severus. After everything, you need the rest more than I do.”

     Whatever protest – and Harry knew it was going to be a protest, it always was when Severus was concerned – Severus had been about to make was abruptly cut off by another yawn. Harry looked at him pointedly, eyebrows raised.

     “Yes, yes. Fine,” Severus muttered, getting to his feet.

     “And don’t set an alarm either,” Harry nagged, attempting an admonishing glare.

     Severus paused, looking down at him. Unexpectedly, he reached out and laid the tips of his fingers on Harry’s arm. “Stay,” he implored softly, brushing his fingers over Harry’s skin gently, before turning and walking away. 

     “Harry?”

     Opening his eyes in surprise, Harry reached over for his glasses, fumbling them onto his face, and saw Ron standing uncertainly in the doorway of the infirmary. Curious as to why the Auror was there, Harry sat up and gestured at him to come closer.

     “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ron began as he stopped at the side of the bed and scratched his temple in what Harry knew was an indication of nervousness. 

     “I wasn’t totally asleep yet.” Severus’ parting comment had seen to that.

     Ron fidgeted a moment before sighing and looking Harry in the eyes. “I wanted to apologize for my part in what happened. I just… Fudge fooled me too.”

     “Why do you hate him, Ron?” Harry asked quietly.

     Ron considered the question for a moment. “It’s hard being a Weasley, Harry. For all that we’re one of the oldest wizarding families, we’re still the laughingstock of the wizarding world. All it takes is one look at the red hair before the jokes and the sneering begin. ‘Oh look, another Weasley.’ We try so hard, and yet no one will respect us. No one tries to see beyond our shabby robes.

     “School was hard enough. Between Voldemort, puberty, and tests, we’re lucky that we made it through at all. And whenever it seemed too hard to bear, he came along and made it worse. Potions was difficult in its own right, we didn’t need him failing us out of spite. Or trying to get us expelled for every infraction: whether real or imagined.

     “Even now, after the war is over and we’re trying to rebuild everything we almost lost, he’s still the same slimy bastard he was in school. Maybe I goofed off a lot in school, but I worked hard to become an Auror. I’ve actually made something respectable of myself. But does that stop him from ridiculing me if he passes me in the hallway? Does it ever prevent him from saying my name with loathing? I could be named Order of Merlin, and he’d still sneer at me in disgust.” Ron sat down in the chair Severus had sat in earlier.

     “It’s hard, Harry, being someone everyone looks down on.”

     What is it like to be loved by everyone around you?

     Between the toll the events of the trial had taken on Harry and the sincerity with which Ron spoke, the anger that Harry had felt toward him faded away. In its stead was a weary sadness for things that might have been. For things that perhaps should have been. What would you think, Ron, if you knew how much you and Severus had in common? We’re all the same, Ron: you, me, Severus, and even Draco. Who we truly are has been lost in the perceptions of others. In the end, we just want to be recognized for who we are. The war is over. It’s time the hatred and anger that caused it ended as well.

     “What about you?” Ron returned as quietly as Harry had asked. “Why did you stop?”

     “Because I got to know him,” Harry replied honestly. “Being in cramped quarters with someone for two years can be an enlightening experience. We talked a lot. And while that usually degraded into fighting and yelling, we managed to learn a great deal about each other. Among many things, I learned that what you see with Severus isn’t necessarily what’s really there beneath the mask.”

     “You really did manage to become friends with him, didn’t you?” There was genuine surprise in Ron’s voice. And none of the contempt that there once was, whenever he mentioned Severus.

     The moment of truth had come. Ron was trying, for Harry’s sake, to understand and to accept the changes in Harry’s life. If there was ever a time to tell him, it’s right now. Somehow, Harry knew that the opportunity would never present itself as readily as it had right then. How easy is it to throw away all those years, Ron? How much do they mean?

     Looking at the first friend he had ever had, Harry realized that there really wasn’t any choice to be made. “It’s more than that, Ron.”

     “I don’t understand.”

     Harry took a deep breath. They mean a great deal to me. “I’m not really sure what it was,” Harry began steadily, “but it started before I remembered who I was.” The story unfolded as if it were a sentient thing telling itself.

     Throughout the telling, Ron somehow managed to remain silent, the only indication of his thoughts being the wide eyes and the sagging jaw. When Harry finally finished speaking, Ron whistled.

     “So that’s… Well, that certainly explains why… I mean, you…” the words tumbled out of his mouth, tripping over themselves. “I can’t believe… Never would have thought… You really did…?”

     “I…” Harry trailed off, trying to decide what it was that Ron wanted him to answer. Um…?”

     “Wait until Hermione hears this one,” Ron shook his head to himself in astonishment. Then he saw Harry staring at him. “I mean… I won’t say anything to Hermione unless you want me to.”

     “Not so much has changed that I think you’d actually be able to keep all this from her,” Harry replied dryly, wishing once again that he too could cock one eyebrow in disbelief. “It’s all right. I don’t mind if you tell her. Just, if you could sort of keep it between the five of us, that would be preferable.”

     Ron’s eyebrows rose.

     At least you can’t do it either, Harry couldn’t help himself from thinking inanely.  

     “The five of us?” Ron repeated. “What five of us? Who else knows about this?”

     “That would be me, Weasley.”

     Harry and Ron both turned in surprise to see Draco detach himself from the doorway and saunter over to join them, a self-satisfied smirk marring his otherwise pleasant features. How long were you standing there? And why were you there in the first place?

     “Malfoy.” Ron rolled his eyes.

     “That would be my name, yes. Impressive, how you can remember things and talk at the same time. Practicing, eh?”

     “I believe I missed the invitation that requested your presence in something that is none of your business,” Ron shot back.

     “Everything is my business.”

     “Not this. Get out.”

     Harry was about to interject when Draco dropped the sneer and pinned Ron with an intense gaze. “This is my business,” he told Ron softly.

     Momentarily taken aback by Draco’s shift in demeanor, Ron rallied quickly. “How do you figure that?”

     “Because I am his friend. Tell me, Ron Weasley, are you?” 

     Even Harry was amazed. Whenever I think that I have finally figured you out, you turn around and become someone else.

     Ron glanced at Harry’s face, then looked back distrustfully at Draco. The Slytherin stared back, his expression never changing. “You’re one to ask,” Ron finally muttered rebelliously.

     “You’re right. I am,” Draco agreed seriously. “What are you, now that you know the truth? Do you stand by the man your boyhood best friend has become? Or do you now turn from him in disgust at the company he keeps?”

     Harry held himself rigidly still; afraid that any movement he made would shatter the strange silence that had come over them. As startled as he was by Draco’s questioning, he was intensely curious to know Ron’s answer. Best friend and archenemy faced off across the expanse of Harry’s bed, the silence becoming charged by whatever was passing between them.

     “He is my friend.”

     A small smile flickered across Draco’s lips.

     Ron turned to Harry. “You are my friend, Harry,” he stated sincerely. “My best friend. I wouldn’t throw that away just because you saw something in the two of them that maybe the rest of us missed.”

     Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco’s eyes from Ron, that was the closest Draco was ever going to get to a compliment. I misjudged you, my old friend. I won’t do that again. No matter how scared and confused I become. “Does this mean that we can double date now?” Harry couldn’t resist teasing him.

     Draco snickered as Ron gaped wordlessly.

     “A joke!” Harry assured him before he had a heart attack. “It’s just a joke.”

     “I’ll thank you to stop laughing,” Ron snapped at Draco. “Anyway, as uh… interesting as that might be…” He looked earnestly into Harry’s eyes. “I’ll probably never be on the best friends list, but I’ll certainly try to be civil with him. And Harry, I was there at the trial. I saw what you did, how you risked your life for him. I am truly sorry for my part in that.”

     Harry shrugged, wanting to forget about it completely. “You were doing your job, Ron. Just like I was.”

     Ron’s brow furrowed. “Your job?”

     “I’m the Boy Who Lived. I can’t really live if I’m dead.”

     Even Draco looked at him in disgust.

     “That’s not remotely funny,” Ron frowned at him.

     “For all the times I’ve fought and nearly died for one reason or another, I think I’ve earned the right to make fun of a title I never asked to be given.” The words came out a bit more forcefully than Harry had intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

     Ron waved the apology aside. “I would have snapped a long time ago. You withstood a dementor’s greatest weapon recently, Harry. I think we can cut you some slack.”

     “Perhaps we ought to leave you to your rest,” Draco suggested, taking in the yawn that Harry tried to hide.

     Ron must have seen it too, because he hastened to agree. “I’m sorry for keeping you awake, Harry. I’ve got to return to the Ministry tomorrow to give a report about Fudge’s actions at the Malfoy mansion. But I’ll be back to Hogwarts the day after. If you’re out of the infirmary by then, would you like to go to Hogsmeade? It can be like old times.”

     Harry smiled with genuine happiness. “I’d like that.”

     “You just take it easy, okay? No more crazy adventures. At least not until I get back.”

     “I promise, Ron. No more crazy adventures.”

     Ron grinned back at him, turned to go, and stopped to nod to Draco. “Malfoy,” he acknowledged in a tone of farewell. His voice was not warm, but it did not contain the decade’s long enmity it once held either.

     One elegant, pale eyebrow rose. “Weasley.”

     I was blinded by my fears, Harry thought, watching Draco follow Ron to the door. And I lashed out at you when I was hurting. Forgive me, old friend. “Draco,” Harry called out, as the blonde was about to walk through the doorway.

     Draco stopped and glanced back at him.

     “Why?”

     “He needed to know how he felt,” Draco tilted his head in a lopsided shrug. “So I made him search for it, before your words sank in far enough to muddle his feelings. He knows how much you mean to him. Now he can go absorb what you told him, secure in the knowledge that regardless of what happens, you’re still his best friend.”         

     Harry shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

     Draco flashed him an enigmatic smile. “Get some sleep now, would you? Your guardians could use some rest themselves.” Then he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

     For the second time that day, Harry was left sitting alone, pondering the meaning of yet another cryptic comment. Slytherins. He chuckled. Irritating little buggers. But I don’t know what I’d do without them now. He felt his eyes grow heavy, begin to slide closed. It’s not so black and white, anymore. Just a million shades of grey.

     “How did he do it, Albus?”

     The Headmaster smiled at him blandly. “Would you like to sit down, Severus?”

     “No, I do not want to sit down,” Severus snarled, even as his body betrayed him by bonelessly flopping down into the proffered chair. “I want answers.”

     “What answers are you seeking?” Albus was giving him that infuriating innocent look again.

     Severus felt his patience disintegrate. “I want to know what he did. I want to know how he survived the Dementor’s Kiss.”

     “Did you ask him?”

     “Of course I bloody well asked him!” Severus snapped. “And he has no idea what happened. All he said was that he refused to allow them to carry out the sentence. Apparently the magic just solved the problem for him.”

     “Perhaps he spoke the truth, Severus.”

     “I do not think he was lying!” Severus came very close to yelling at the older wizard.

     “Then perhaps you should believe him,” Albus replied.

     Severus’ eyes narrowed to glittering black slits. “You promised him that something would happen to save me. And when it did not, he-”

     Albus’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “But something did happen to save you, Severus.”

     “You know damn well that that is not-” Severus’ mouth shut so quickly he nearly bit off his tongue. Name of all the gods. How could you let him take such a risk? “You knew!” he accused in a whispering hiss. “You knew what would happen!”

     Albus nodded, the false innocence replaced with a proud kind of sorrow. “I did not lie to Harry, Severus. I told him what he needed to know. Something did happen to save you, just as I promised it would. Harry happened.”

     “How did you know?” Severus demanded angrily. “How did you know that your machinations would not end up killing him?”

     “I am afraid that it must suffice for you to know that I had the assurance of someone that I trust very deeply,” Albus answered him quietly. 

     “Taking in all that magic should have killed him. Undergoing the Dementor’s Kiss should have left him nothing but an empty shell. And you tell me now that I must trust in some mysterious messenger who tells you that it is all right to play games with Harry’s life?”

     “Do you trust me, Severus?”

     How dare you! “What do you want me to say?”

     “I want you to tell me the truth. Do you trust me?”

     Do I trust you? After altering my memory, after lying to me, playing games with everyone around you, and after risking Harry’s very soul, you ask me if I trust you? Severus sighed, the anger and confusion warring across the plane of his face. “After Voldemort broke my body, I trusted you when I thought that I could trust no one else ever again,” he barely spoke above a whisper, giving Albus the unadulterated truth. “Even as I stood there, waiting for Fudge to take me to Azkaban, I trusted you. But you are not asking me to trust you with my life anymore, Albus. You are asking me to trust you with Harry’s life.”

     “No, Severus,” Albus shook his head. “I do not ask you if you trust me with Harry’s life. I ask merely if you trust in me. If you trust me to tell you as much as I can. If you trust me to seek only the best: for you, for everyone in this school, for our very world.”

     Did he? Did he truly trust Albus Dumbledore? The answer drifted up through his mind. “Yes.”

     “Then I would ask that you trust that I speak the truth with what I am about to say,” Albus continued.

     “Tell me.”

     “I know very well the one who spoke of Harry’s actions at the trial. And I know that there is no one in this world who loves that young man as much as this one does.”

     No one in this world? What does that mean? His parents? His mother gave him the protection against Voldemort. Is that who you mean? Does Lily Potter still reach out to her son? “I do not understand.”

     “You will in time, Severus.”

     “I recall you saying that before, Albus.”

     “You will remember it again,” Albus was looking at him strangely. And there was an odd edge to his voice that Severus had not heard before.

     “Albus…”

     “Sometimes, Severus, we find that there are things that we cannot accept. And we will go to great lengths to see those things never happen.”

     “Is that what Harry did?”

     “It is what we all do, when there is no other choice.”

     More riddles. I am so tired of riddles. “I just want peace, Albus. I just want to stop struggling and fighting. I want to wake up in the morning and not worry that something terrible is about to happen. I am so tired of the pain and the loss.”

     “It is always darkest before the dawn, Severus. But I have never lost my faith in you.” There was a compassion and understanding in Albus’ bright eyes that sent a sliver of unease down Severus’ spine. He was not speaking of the past. “The dawn will come, Severus. There will be a time when you doubt that. But I promise you; by the words of one I trust beyond all others, it will come. And it will be a glorious sunrise, the likes of which you have never seen.”

     Author’s Notes: After nearly two years, Shades of Grey is complete. I apologize for the time it took me to finish it. There were things going on in my life that made it extremely difficult to get up in the morning, let along find anything inside of myself that could create. I hope I have not lost the sense of the story, in all this time. And I hope that I have not disappointed anyone.

     The sequel to this story, and the continuation of the story arc, is titled One Moment. I shall endeavor to have the first chapter of that story available next Wednesday (June 9th.)

     While I was typing this chapter, one of my cats (I have six) walked across my keyboard. Either he wanted attention, or he wanted to say hello. While I suspect the former, I like to think it was the latter. He’s a Maine Coon. His name is Bud, named after a remarkable tiger cat named Floyd, who I dubbed “The Bud”, because in my times of need, he was there, to sit with me in my car, to wipe away my tears, and to love me, when I was going through one of the worst times of my life. A word from Bud: “Opppl;” (I like to think it means “Hello.”)

     As for dedications:

     To everyone who has stuck with me through these past two years, reading and writing to me, encouraging me, and offering their support.

     To my late Doberman Phoenix, who was there for me since I was 11 years old and passed away before I could finish this story.

     To StarryGazer: Yeah, I know, I said I’d only dedicate “Worlds Collide” and that last chapter of One Moment. Hee hee, I couldn’t resist. You’ve kept me writing and laughing, and generally having an awesome time. My thanks. And keep writing! I love your stories. (Yes, even chapters 20 & 21. )

     And to you, Cache: It’s been a little over a year. I never thought I’d see a year without you. It doesn’t get any easier. But I’m trying. Ai shiteru, boku no tenshi. Eien ni.