Three

Harry hurried to Gryffindor tower, where his wife and son awaited him. Ginny had stopped playing Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies two years ago when she’d become pregnant with James, and now served as the Quidditch coach and flying instructor at Hogwarts. Arrangements had been made for a house-elf to care for James when Ginny was in class. As Head of Gryffindor, Harry had the same dinner attendance as Snape, but Ginny preferred to feed James in their quarters. The eighteen month old was too much of a handful for the Great Hall.

“Hey Gin,” Harry called softly as he entered their quarters.

“Hey, Harry. James and I were just playing with his broomstick.”

“He’s going to be a phenomenal flyer, especially since he’s starting so early,” Harry laughed, and continued, “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you don’t need a break. I said something offensive, albeit true, to Snape at dinner tonight and he stormed off in a huff. Minerva’s making me apologize to him. I’m on my way there now, but if I’m not back in an hour, avenge my death.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Why can’t you leave him alone?”

“I only said what everyone else was thinking. It’s been five years, and he still acts like he did when we were fighting Voldemort and he was in the middle of it. When he survived Nagini and became a hero, I thought it was what he always wanted, and he’d lighten up, maybe relax, but he hasn’t, not even just a little. All this time I thought he had an excuse, there was a reason he was so miserable, but when that excuse went away, the truth of the matter is he just enjoys being miserable and making everyone around him miserable.”

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully.

“Harry,” she began gently, “have you ever considered that he did have an excuse, but he’s had it for so long he doesn’t know anything else?”

Harry considered this possibility. He hadn’t really thought about what it must mean to be Snape. In spite of everything that he’d found out from Snape’s memories, whenever he thought of Snape, the word “git” inevitably came to his mind and any deep consideration was forgotten. He thought of his own aversion to asking questions, ingrained into him as a child by the Dursleys when food was withheld for the simple act of asking about his parents. What must it have been like for Snape, who’d been tormented by everyone he came in contact with for decades? He blanched. He thanked the gods once again for his wife’s sharp observations and perceptive nature. Despite her fiery temperament and outstanding athletic skills, she was, after all, Percy’s sister.

“You’re right, Gin. As always. I’ll go apologize and try to be decent to him. Still, though, if I’m not back in an hour or two, you’ll come hex him and scrape me off the wall?”

Harry attempted a hang dog expression and failed.

“Harry James Potter, you are the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who, at seventeen, smote the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived with nothing more than an Expelliarmus. If you can’t handle a middle-aged Potions master, I’m leaving you to shack up with him instead.”

With that, Ginny shoved Harry out of their chambers.

Harry trudged down to the dungeons, wand out, preparing to defend himself against hexes, Legilimency, and plain old Muggle dishes. He was understandably quite surprised when he knocked on the door to Snape’s private quarters and heard a calm, “Enter.” A trap, perhaps? He entered cautiously.

Snape was in his favorite chair in the sitting room with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand, staring at the flames in the fireplace. He looked at Harry for a moment and then nodded curtly.

“Potter.” Snape stood up.

Harry blinked. This was not how he’d expected this to go. He thought he’d be dodging bottles by now. Or jars of cockroaches. Or hexes. Hell, he thought he’d be dodging something by now, at any rate. Or maybe they were going to duel properly?

“Um… Professor Snape, after some reflection, I realize that what I said at dinner was disrespectful and uncall—”

“Oh, shut it, Potter, everything you’ve ever said to me has been disrespectful, and we both know you’re only down here because Minerva threatened you with something massively unpleasant if you didn’t come. What was it this time? That you’d have to feed the blast-ended skrewts the next time Hagrid goes on vacation? That you’d have to chaperone the next Hogsmeade weekend with Trelawney?”

“She threatened to give the Hufflepuff Quidditch team our practice slot on Thursday afternoon,” Harry answered without thinking. Snape was being cordial. Well, cordial for Snape, anyway, and it was throwing him off.

“I see. Well, I accept your apology and I will tell Minerva how you came down here and apologized and that you were properly remorseful.”

Harry stared at the bottle next to Snape’s chair. How much had he been drinking?

Harry began backing out of Snape’s sitting room with a panicked look on his face. Any minute now…

“So, apology accepted, I’ll let Minerva know; is there some reason you’re still here?”

With that, Harry fled.

Snape chuckled.

So much for Gryffindor courage.

A/N: Thanks as always to my betas, sunny33, Ladyinthecloak and Sempra, without whom I would be an ellipse and comma mess.