InsaneJournal

“He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Memory Lane, the sign over the storefront said proudly, maybe a hundred feet ahead. Still enough time to turn around, Severus thought, but he did not change direction. The name choice for the shop was so typically Potter, it almost coaxed a smile out of Severus, but the weight sitting in his stomach ever since he had come back to Britain prevented it.

He knew – or at least once had known – Potter – Harry, he had been Harry for a long time – so well that he could have predicted the name of the brat’s business; it was endlessly unimaginative. What else would somebody as witless as Harry name a shop specialized in Pensieve manufacturing and trading?

Severus shook his head and suppressed another attempt on the part of his lips to curl into anything resembling a smile. Because the name wasn’t smile-inducing, perhaps ridiculous, but not that ridiculous. Severus was an almost fifty-year-old dignified gentleman; none of Harry’s shenanigans made him smile. Especially not when the stone of anxiety in his stomach got heavier with his every step.

Not that he wasn’t reasonably sure about his welcome; after all Harry and he had been… well, something. Companions, definitely. Friends even. Also, there had been a fledgling possibility for something more, but then Severus had left. And now, years later, he still felt those thrice-damned tendrils of hope, anticipation and nervousness twisting his insides.

With a deep, slow breath he forced those emotions to the back of his mind as he walked toward Memory Lane in an unhurried pace, taking the sight in. The shop itself was quite innocuous, settled between a bookshop and an internet-café for magical folks in a less frequented side street branching from Diagon Alley. In the shop window a supposedly artful disarray of bowls made of various materials from wood to metal to stone was displayed surrounded by an eerie, silver glow. As Severus previously had observed, unimaginative.

The bells above the door chimed happily, announcing his arrival. The inside of the shop was quite puritan, a counter in the back, facing the door, several glass covered display cases standing by the walls, with various colourful rocks, more than likely materials for Pensieve bowls.

The owner of the shop was leaning over the counter, busy with a tiny bowl with silver liquid swirling inside. The mop of unruly hair gave his identity away.

“Just a moment,” he said without looking up; thus, Severus had time to take the sight in, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry had the same strength in his jaw he had had before, albeit his shoulders had become broader, and he was still lean and not too tall. Severus stopped right in front of the counter, leaning in subconsciously, subtly breathing in the scent of the young man: sunshine and grass and something smoky.

“Good afternoon, how can I…” Harry finally lifted his head and his emerald eyes grew impossibly wide when he recognised his customer. “Merlin’s holy bollocks! Severus!” he exclaimed. “How have you… where have you… are you staying… how long?” He pulled in a calming breath. “Holy shite!” he said with an enormous grin.

“I see you lost none of your eloquence in the ensuing years,” Severus teased him.

Harry snorted. “Neither did you, you git.”

“But of course. How are you, Harry?” Severus asked, softer than he intended

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Is your new career treating you well?”

“Yes, definitely. It was a good choice. A change I cannot regret.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Severus said honestly.

Harry blushed a little. “It’s all thanks to you, you know.”

Severus lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes, then settled on an earnest expression. “You were the one who encouraged me to leave the Aurors. I’m really grateful.”

With a dismissive hand gesture, Severus flapped Harry’s gratitude away. “Don’t mention it. Tell me instead, how is business going?”

Harry’s smile was far too well knowing; he must have remembered how Severus disliked any overzealous display of gratitude. “Fine, it’s fine. Not overwhelming but busy enough. And what about you? How are you, Severus?” he asked, and Severus was thrilled that after all this time his given name still rolled off Harry’s tongue so naturally.

“I’m well, thank you. After all the travelling I finally let Kingsley pester me into a ministry position.”

“Really? What is it?” Harry enthused.

“I’m going to train and supervise the Obliviators and some workers of the DMLE in Occlumency, Legilimency and memory alteration. It’s going to be my job to make sure that the International Statute of Secrecy is maintained. I also have to make sure that the Oblivators aren’t corrupted, their minds aren’t overwhelmed, and they haven’t obliviated something essential.”

Harry whistled. “That’s an impressive task.”

“Also partially the reason for my visit,” Severus admitted.

“I’m wounded” Harry said only half joking, Severus could tell. “You came here just for talking business?”

“I came here for a Pensieve and a visit with an old acquaintance,” Severus answered somewhat loftily.

Harry just rolled his eyes once again. “Come on, Severus, it can’t be that hard. A friend. Say it after me: F-R-I-E-N-D.”

“You’re still a presumptuous brat.”

“And you’re an emotionally constipated git.”

It astonished Severus how effortlessly their banter continued, just where they had left off: as if they had last seen each other a few days, not a few years ago.

“Does our alleged friendship allow me a discount?” Severus inquired.

“Nope, you lost that opportunity when you denied our glorious connection, a friendship forged through my determination and bravery in the face of your grumpiness.”

“A pity then. Still, I’m truly in need of your services.”

In a blink Harry switched to his professional mode – or as professional as someone like Harry could get. “What do you need?”

“Given the fact that you run a Pensieve shop it can’t be too much of a surprise that I would like to purchase a Pensieve, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Harry nodded mockingly, then he was all business once again. “If I custom-make a Pensieve for you I have to take into account your purpose with it. Do you wish only to hold, observe or maybe even relive? How much and how finely chiseled a storage space do you need? How many visitors should your Pensieve accommodate? Do you need any extra features? How about protection? How much inside moving place do you want? What kind of design you prefer? There are a lot of options you may choose from.”

“My previous experience comes from the Hogwarts Headmasters’ Pensieve. Can we strive for something like that?”

“Oh yes, that’s a real masterpiece. Did you know that it originates from before the Founders’ time? It is said to have been found by the Founders at the very place they later built the school. It’s enormous, it singlehandedly holds the wisdom of every head of Hogwarts ever serving the school. A priceless piece of ingenuity. It’s so charged with magic that it’s semi-sentient!”

Severus very much enjoyed seeing Harry so enthusiastic about something. When Harry had trained and later worked as an Auror the same couldn’t be said.

“What do you intend to use it for?” Harry asked.

“For storage, memory revision, with an option of group visits. Given that the information stored in it is confidential it also needs protection. In some cases I will need to observe from every possible angle – I will need enough moving space for that. Beyond visual input I would prefer using other senses as well, if it’s possible. Scents, for example, carry a lot of important information.”

“Right. That mostly solves the question of material for the bowl itself,” Harry mused. “Wood, metal and glass are out of the equation.”

Severus’ curiosity must have manifested on his face, because Harry explained with an indulgent smile. “Wood is ideal for realistic reviewing but doesn’t offer enough storage space, while metal is all about storage but doesn’t have enough moving space, and you need way more privacy than what glass offers. We’re going to need stone for that; the more durable the better, probably marble.” Harry scratches his nose. “Or maybe limestone; that’s the most susceptible material to the extra enchantments.”

“That sounds promising.”

“I have a few basic types of Pensieves, but we can always add individual features if you chose one of those,” he went on, lost in thought. “Steamer is not for you, too confining in space and flexibility. Maybe a Schooner, renowned for easy manoeuvrability and speed. Or a Frigate, the best choice for heavy duty…

Severus couldn’t help the snort. “Ships? Really?”

“Why? It’s totally appropriate.”

“If you say so.”

“You know: navigating the ocean of memories and all.”

“How… lame.”

“Bastard. Anyway, I already have the perfect material for the bowl in mind.”

“I shall leave it to your expertise,” Severus offered, and he totally meant it too. Then he checked the time and regretfully added, “I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”

“No problem. I have the basic information to start the process. Can you be back tomorrow? I’m going to need your help with the potion which is going into your Pensieve.”

“I don’t doubt that you need me with that, given your abysmal potions skills.”

“Very funny. I only need your assistance to customise the potion for your person; bringing it in tune with the owner makes the warding easier.”

“I’ll be here,” Severus promised, then tentatively he added, “Maybe we can talk some more.” His heartbeat, previously calmed down by the familiarity of banter, started racing once again.

Something sad flashed over Harry’s face, his smile turning into something not entirely genuine. The soul-deep sorrow in Harry’s eyes, revealed only for a moment, made Severus worry.

“Yeah,” Harry said, not too enthusiastic. “Maybe we can.”

Severus hesitated; he wanted to stay and get to the bottom of it, but sadly he needed to go.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “It was good to see you, Harry.”

“You too,” Severus heard Harry say before he hurried out the door.

­***

After thoughtfully contemplating then choosing the perfect type of marble, it took little time to magically carve out a simple vessel and fill it with basic memory-carrier potion. Harry put one of his own memories inside and dived. As soon as he slipped into the memory, Harry took in his surroundings with a critical eye. The memory was of last night: recent enough, short, simple and emotionally not too charged. It wasn’t awkward anymore to see himself in a Pensieve; by now he was completely capable of concentrating on his work and not his memory self, not like in the beginning when it had been very distracting to watch his own self until Harry got used to the method.

Harry and Edwin’s memory selves were sitting at the table with present time’s Harry standing way too close, thanks to the very limited space on the memory plane, feeling slightly claustrophobic. The edges were way too ragged, the colours off and the whole scene seemed lifeless, eerie, both Harry and Edwin ghostly pale.

“Severus is back in England,” memory Harry announced, his voice tinny.

“Is he now?” Edwin asked, sounding hollow and his features fuzzy.

Harry tried to step closer to their past selves, but his moving space was frustratingly limited.

“Yep. He ordered a custom-made Pensieve today. For work,” memory Harry added with an unnatural echo to his voice, his form getting more and more translucent.

“Hmm. Is-s he stay-y-ying the-n-n?”

“I do-do-don’t know-w-w-w.”

The memory dissolved into white fog and Harry was ejected unceremoniously. He frowned down at the Pensieve currently forming under his hands. Still a lot to work on here.

***

As promised, Severus returned to Memory Lane the next day. This time it was more anticipation than dread sitting in his stomach. He was greeted with Harry’s enthusiasm and one of his biggest smiles.

“You’re right on time,” Harry said and turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’. “We have to go to the workshop,” he explained, gesturing toward the door behind the counter. ”This way.”

Severus stepped behind the counter, for a brief moment dreading the lack of safety that the barrier between them had provided. Harry’s presence, without the added mass of the counter, seemed almost overwhelming. Still, he followed Harry to the backroom without protest.

The room was crowded with shelves, containing several Pensieve bowls, tools, raw materials, a lot of phials containing what Severus supposed were memories and a wooden table in the middle of the room. On top of it sat a gorgeous black marble bowl, the stone’s natural white pattern reminding Severus of the night sky. It wasn’t yet adorned by runes, but was already beautiful. Inside a silver liquid was swirling, not exactly the cloud-like substance – not quite liquid, neither gas – that usually filled Pensieves.

“I need you to stir it, using your magic, if you are up to this complicated task, oh, great master of potions.” Harry cheeked.

“It’s a sad state of affairs if after seven years of Hogwarts education you still need my help with such a simple task,” Severus retorted in a similar fashion, but started to do as Harry had asked.

“I only need your magic to familiarize itself with the carrier potion. I previously purified the potion in this one, so yours will be the first magical signature touching it; it will make it easier to attune the wards and enchantments to you.”

They stood side by side as Severus stirred the liquid and watched fascinated as it changed, slowly losing its substance and becoming more cloud-like.

It took another ten minutes before Harry told him to stop.

“Does this mean that it’s done?”

“Oh Merlin, not at all!” Harry said amusingly scandalised. “The bowl and the potion are only the beginning. The real work is carving out the magical space inside. It needs a hell of a lot of enchantments and runes still. The inside is kind of a separate plane, or a void if you like that comparison better, open and clean for all memories, thoughts or ideas you put inside: a dimension where visitors can freely move,” he explained.

“What kind of enchantments do you use?”

“A modified extension charm, environmental charms, charms for protection. In your Pensieve I’d like to plant a few booby traps for intruders if you agree,” he added with a sheepish smile, clearly remembering their shared experience of trespassing. “Then some illusion charms and finally, during the last and trickiest part of the process, the enchantments that allow the visitors to experience the emotions carried within the memory. In your case I also plan to throw in some little extras regarding the communication between visitors, but it’s a surprise.”

“I’m not overly enthusiastic about surprises in general.”

“I know,” Harry acknowledged with a shrug. “But you will like this one.”

Severus, surprisingly, believed him. “Am I further needed during the process?”

“No, thank you. All the rest I can do alone.”

“I see. The only remaining questions are: when will it be ready, and how much will it cost the Ministry?”

The sly smile appearing on Harry’s face really fitted him. “A few weeks and a lot of Galleons. I will send the bill directly to the head of department, if you agree.”

“Definitely. Thank you,” Severus said genuinely.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied with a smile.

After the business part of the meeting was done, a weird silence settled between them. They were in a small place, still close to each other, side by side. So close in fact that Severus could feel the heat coming off Harry’s body and also his scent. It made him slightly dizzy. He reluctantly took a half-step back and turned to face Harry.

“I thought we should catch up,” he broke the silence.

“Erm, yeah, sure,” Harry said, the hesitance from yesterday back once again.

Severus frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Harry protested a tad too quickly. “Sounds good. Although I’m not quite sure when. I’m a bit busy,” he said, avoiding eye contact with Severus.

Now Severus knew without a doubt that it indeed wasn’t nothing.

“Spill it, Potter!” he barked and they both froze.

The phrase rolled naturally from his tongue, he had used it in the past countless times on the brat. It was an essential part of their private dictionary. And still, its extreme familiarity was what finally overbalanced the equilibrium they had maintained since Severus’ return to Harry’s life the previous day.

Harry was the first to find his words. “I… It’s… It’s been years, Severus. I know we have pretended until now that we can continue as if nothing happened, but it did. Things changed. I changed. You left. I… Things aren’t the same.”

“I know that. I haven’t expected things to be the same. I haven’t really expected anything, I just would like to know how you are.” As much as it was the truth it also was a lie. Severus didn’t dare expect anything, but that couldn’t stop his hopes or his heart. He was the one who had left: his past, his burdens, and Harry. And he hadn’t been blind, he had seen that there was something tender and tentative growing between them, and he’d still chosen to leave. He’d had his reasons. He’d made his choice. He knew rationally that he couldn’t, he shouldn’t expect anything. He tried not to. In spite of his best effort, he failed. “Couldn’t we at least sit down and talk? As old friends, if you please.”

The moment of silence before Harry answered was excruciating.

“I guess we could do that.”

Severus almost deflated with relief. “Splendid. My apartment is not habitable at the moment. Too many boxes on every available surface. Maybe your…”

Harry suddenly interrupted. “We should go to a pub or whatever. I know a place in Muggle London. No fear of recognition or pestering there.”

“Very well,” Severus agreed, studying Harry’s flushed face. Something wasn’t right here. As he expected, a short time after Harry started to fidget under Severus’ scrutiny.

“I mean my place is… It’s not ideal, because… well, you know.”

It was endearing how Harry struggled to get out of this one, but Severus didn’t feel inclined to help him out. “I really do not.”

“We can’t go there. I live with someone,” Harry blurted out at last.

Oh.

Oh, well. It wasn’t that Severus hadn’t expected that.

“Oh, I see.” He pulled himself together, with great effort. “No problem, we can meet at the place you mentioned.”

Harry sighed with relief. “I will send you an owl with the address. Although I’m truly quite busy at the moment. Is the weekend okay with you?”

“Yes.” Severus hesitated to ask, especially seeing Harry’s relief after the topic change, but he couldn’t let the question slip. “Is it Truman? The one you live with?”

Harry didn’t meet his eyes when he answered. “Yep. Him. It’s Edwin.”

Severus nodded. “I’ll eagerly anticipate your owl,” he said before he hastily retreated.

***

Harry was looking for something innocuous. He pulled out the memory of an average evening from his mind, if his memory served him right this one took place sometime during last month. Nothing extraordinary, perfect for testing purposes. He put the memory in the Pensieve, and promptly followed.

Edwin and he were once again sitting at the dining table. The view of them was clear enough, the contrast in their colouring sharp: Edwin’s fair hair and skin, and his silvery eyes were glowing in comparison to memory Harry’s tanned skin and dark hair. Their surroundings were a bit duller, but at least Harry had enough space to walk around in the scene. Their memory selves weren’t saying anything important, talking about the day’s happenings in the shop. Their voices seemed too dull, their movements a tad too slow. Harry grimaced; he needed to adjust the enchantment. Before he pulled back from the memory he could see Edwin’s pale hand reaching towards his memory self’s and his own hand retreating, shying away from contact.

***

The weekend went by, but Severus hadn’t met Harry. As promised, he received an owl with the address of the pub Harry had mentioned, with an additional apology that something came up and query whether it was all right if they postponed their meeting. It wasn’t, Severus thought, but he still answered in the affirmative.

So he waited and worried. Something was definitely not all right, and no matter how many times Harry stated that he was fine, he clearly wasn’t.

Severus was frustrated, he hated not knowing what was going on, not to mention the added bonus of being reduced to using the substandard Pensieve the Ministry of Magic put at his disposal.

He was in a foul mood, snappy and irritable, when Hermione Granger arrived on the scene – as in walked right into the sanctuary of Severus’ office, uninvited – more than a week after his last meeting with Harry.

“Severus! It’s been a while,” the woman greeted him with a smile.

“Miss Granger,” Severus replied grumpily.

“It’s Mrs Granger-Weasley nowadays, but I would prefer Hermione, if you don’t mind. After all, once we were on first name basis.” It was true; his close friendship with Harry had also meant a connection with Harry’s childhood friends, to a lesser extent.

“Hermione.”

“Much better,” she smiled. “How are you, Severus?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?”

“I am too, thank you for asking.”

Severus contemplated simply turning around and leaving the woman to her own devices, but he realized the potential source of information the woman was.

“I was wondering,” he brought up casually, “have you heard from Harry recently? He didn’t get back to me about a potential meeting.” Then he felt compelled to add. “About business.”

Hermione didn’t seem fooled, although her slightly amused expression was swiftly exchanged with a deeply troubled one.

“Not for a few weeks, I’m afraid,” she admitted.

Severus was surprised; in the past it hadn’t been common for Harry and his friends to not be in contact for such a long period of time.

“He… He struggles with a lot of things,” she admitted.

“What things?” Severus demanded.

Hermione was clearly uncertain what to share. “I don’t want to betray his confidence,” she started, irritating Severus with her reluctance. “But he doesn’t let Ron or me, or any of his other friends, help him, and maybe you can get through to him…” She sighed. “There are several matters: you leaving then coming back, Edwin, obviously.”

“Wait, what? What of Truman? Harry said they were living together. I imagine they are an obnoxiously perfect couple.” He couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice, even if he knew that the whole situation was his own choice.

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, and her voice faltered when she answered.

“You mean… you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” he snapped.

“Oh my God!” the wretched woman whispered. “He didn’t tell you?”

“For Merlin’s sake, woman, what are you talking about?” Severus was at his rope’s end. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew if Truman hurt Harry, there would be hell to pay.

“I… I think you must ask Harry. As soon as possible. He is not fine at all; not telling you what’s going on proves it without a doubt.” She chewed her lower lip nervously. “Please, Severus. You were his closest friend, please, reach out to him, because he won’t admit, but he needs you. Talk to him,” she pleaded.

“Fine,” Severus agreed—as if it ever was a question that he would do it. “Does he live at the same place?”

“Yes, he does.”

“I will be paying him a visit later today,” he promised.

Hermione’s palpable relief only increased his worry, so right after he finished his tasks, yelled at some incompetent fools and suffered through a meeting with his charges, he left for Harry’s place.

He determinedly knocked on the front door of the humble house on the edge of a small village, mostly populated by wizards. He could have gone through the Floo, but a more dramatic entry felt more appropriate, thus he pounded on the door and waited to be acknowledged. It was way after the shop’s closing time, so Harry must have been home.

The door finally opened, revealing a fidgeting Harry on its other side. He seemed fatigued and somehow lost. The sadness that only flashed through his face in the shop now was on full display, making Severus’ own heart ache.

“Severus. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“May I come in?” It was more demand than question, because without further ado he marched inside.

The house hadn’t changed a lot since Severus had last visited, which was strange, given that now somebody else also lived here with Harry, although his presence seemingly didn’t leave its impression on the house.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Harry asked sarcastically behind him.

Without hesitation, Severus walked into the living room and sat in the same armchair he used to occupy when he had been a regular here.

“Spill it, Potter! No evasions. I want to know what’s going on.”

Harry sat down opposite him, also in his usual place. “It’s noth…”

“Don’t you dare say nothing. What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Have you been hurt?”

“No.”

“Has it something to do with Truman?”

“No,” Harry said for the third time, but Severus noticed the pause before his answer. He was onto something there.

“Where is he?”

“He is… out?”

“Has he hurt you?” It took some effort to rein his anger in, ignited by the very thought.

“No, of course not! Edwin wouldn’t hurt me!”

“But something is wrong with him, isn’t it.”

Harry didn’t answer, his lips thinning into a flat line, his gaze fixed on something behind Severus’ back. But someone else did.

“You could say that,” the new arrival said.

Severus turned in his seat and the bottom fell out of his world.

“Long time no see, Severus,” the unnaturally pale form of Edwin Truman said as he hovered probably a foot over the ground, his body silver and see-through, most definitely not alive. Fucking hell, Severus thought, the man was a ghost.

***

Harry had a really, really horrible day the day previous, including a lot of yelling, begging and reasoning, mostly on Severus’ part. Highlighting over and over how unhealthy the whole situation was, repeating again and again how it needed to stop. Nothing Harry hadn’t heard before from Hermione and Ron. After several long and tedious hours it finally ended when with the promise that he’d be back, like that creepy-cyborg in the Muggle movie, Severus left.

So it must have been Harry’s masochistic trait that made him choose this particular memory. Harry didn’t want to see. He really, really did not. But he needed to. Severus’ words wouldn’t let him sleep last night. However much he didn’t want to face that particular memory, he still had to.

So with a deep, fortifying breath he pulled the memory from his head and dived in.

It was chaos. Hexes and curses flying everywhere around them, the colourful flashes blinding in the deep darkness of the night, its blackness stretching endlessly in every direction. The noise of fighting was deafening, and the smell, oh God, the smell overwhelming. Smoke. Blood. So much blood.

His past self was kneeling in the middle of this pandemonium, right next to Edwin’s lying form. The Harry in the memory tried, in vain, to stop the bleeding of Edwin’s chest wound. The red of blood was hurtfully vivid, painting everything scarlet, Edwin’s skin, his golden hair, and Harry’s hands. Its sweet, metallic scent was suffocating.

As Harry stood next to them, he needed to fight the urge to push his past self away and do something, anything. He once again felt utterly helpless and desperate.

“The fucking raid was a set up,” the Harry of the past fumed. “Hold on, just for a little longer. The backup will be here soon,” he tried to reassure Edwin frantically. The wound wouldn’t close, no matter how many healing spells Harry had tried.

“I’m fine, Harry, don’t worry,” Edwin said, too calm. “It’ll be fine.”

“Oh God, don’t speak, spare your energy,” Harry snapped.

“Harry, listen, listen to me.” Edwin tried to grab his attention while Harry was pressing his blood-soaked Auror robe to the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of blood.

“Look at me!” Edwin raised his voice, and Harry’s head immediately snapped right to his face.

“Oh no, you don’t! Not you too,” he whined, panicky and raw.

“Harry, it’s fine. I’m glad…“ Edwin’s hands fumbled to find Harry’s, his grip weak and slippery with blood, ”you were… here... with me.”

There was a sigh, miraculously audible in the cacophony of noises. And then nothing but the keening sounds escaping the younger Harry, swallowed by the roar of the surrounding battle.

***

“Truman.”

“Severus. Harry’s at work, if you want to speak with him you should go to the shop.”

“I know. I wanted to talk with you, not Harry.”

“I see.” Truman said with a sigh, weary and resigned.

They once again stood – in Truman’s case hovered – in Harry’s living room, just like the previous day, this time without Harry.

“Your presence is detrimental to Harry’s mental and emotional health, which is unacceptable,” Severus declared without further ado.

“I know,” Truman quietly admitted, surprising Severus.

“In this case you must see that your immediate departure is necessary. In case you don’t cooperate I won’t shy away from drastic measures.” And he meant it; he would exorcize Truman without hesitation to help Harry get better.

“I’m sure you won’t. After all, who else would understand the extreme things one would do for Harry better than me?”

“Is this why you haunt him?” Severus asked, disgusted. ”It’s your misguided way of doing everything for him?”

Truman had the gall to laugh. Severus pulled out his wand and aimed it at Truman.

“Put that away, you fool. It’s no use against me. As for your question, I understand because I love him. As do you.”

“Then why don’t you let him live? Move on?” Severus yelled angrily.

Truman looked at Severus, his dead gaze penetrating Severus’ skin right to the bone.

“You really don’t understand, do you? It’s not me not letting him go. He is the one who is so afraid of being left behind once again, that he wouldn’t let me go.”

***

“Thank you for walking me home, Edwin.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“It was a good party, wasn’t it? For a farewell party especially.”

“I’m going to miss you now that you are leaving the Auror Department behind you.”

“Uh, really?”

“Yes.” Edwin slowly lifted his hand to cup Harry’s cheek. “Would you consider going on a date with me after next Wednesday, when we aren’t partners in the field anymore?” he asked in a heartfelt tone.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

“Please,” Edwin leaned into Harry, his lips close, so very close to Harry that his breath was caressing Harry’s mouth, but not touching Harry with his own lips, his fingers gently brushing against Harry’s cheek.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Edwin’s smile was breathtaking; it was a real shame that memory Harry couldn’t reciprocate. The smile on his face was painfully fake in contrast to the joyous one Edwin was wearing.

***

“Edwin said you were coming tonight, and that he wouldn’t be here, so we could talk in private,” Harry said right after opening his door.

“That’s right. May I come in?”

“Wow, he can ask,” Harry mocked, but let Severus in.

They settled in the same seats as they had done the night before.

“I would like to understand what you are afraid of, Harry,” Severus said honestly.

“What?” Harry was staring at him, wide eyed, clearly astonished.

“I think that your fears are bonding Truman to you,” he continued, resolute to be straightforward with Harry.

“My fears? What are you talking about?” Harry asked, panicked. “He is a ghost. He’s chosen to stay behind, he has some unfinished business, he’s not ready to move on. I even tried to help him figure it out, but he couldn’t tell me what it was,” Harry explained defensively.

Severus shook his head in disagreement. “I spoke with him earlier today. He told me that he had accepted his place in your life. After he had asked you out he realised you thought about him as a friend. He found his peace while dying, finding solace in your presence. Believe me, I have first-hand experience how that works, although my coming back from the dead happened in an entirely different manner, and my feelings then hadn’t been quite the same as Truman’s.”

“Even if all of this is true, how could I do that?” Harry asked, his eyes full of desperation and sorrow.

“Harry,” Severus said, very gently. “At one point you possessed all three of the Deathly Hallows. Even if you later let them go, you were, and I think you still are to some extent, the Master of Death.”

Harry was trembling with anxiety. “No, no. I don’t want that!”

“Whether you won’t it or not, the facts are still pointing to that direction,” Severus said with extreme patience.

“Oh God, Severus, it can’t be!” Harry exclaimed, horrified.

“I’m afraid it can.”

Harry’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. “I was the one who did this to him? It’s… how could he ever forgive me for this?” he asked brokenly. Severus couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore, so he stood up and sat on the arm of Harry’s chair, taking Harry’s hand in his own. Harry’s despair and pain made Severus’ own heart break.

“You will have to talk to him about that, but I think there aren’t too many things Truman wouldn’t forgive you for. He loves you very much,” Severus tried to reassure Harry.

Harry’s face became contorted with pain and guilt. His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I know, but I couldn’t, I can’t feel the same. God, I tried, but I can’t, Severus.”

“You cannot force love, Harry.”

“It was my fault he died,” Harry confessed, his anchoring grip on Severus’ hand fierce. “I was there on the raid with him, we were ambushed, and we were overpowered. The curse that killed him was meant for me, but he pushed me out of the way. It should have been me, not him. I tried to help him, I swear I did!” His eyes were pleading Severus to believe him.

“I know you did.” Severus was absolutely sure about that.

“I had lost almost everyone I had ever loved. I didn’t want to lose him too, such a short time after you’d left,” he said softly, almost inaudible. Severus still heard him, and his heart broke anew. He pulled Harry close to his chest and held him there for a very long time.

***

After the emotional maelstrom and subsequent breakdown the previous day, Harry needed work to distract him. He decided to work on Severus’ Pensieve. It was time to work out the finer quirks.

“You can’t leave yet!” is the first thing Harry heard from his memory self. He and Severus were sitting in one of the booths in the Leaky Cauldron on a busy Saturday night, each nursing a beer. “It’s my farewell party from the Auror Department!”

“I cannot fathom how this can be a farewell party, when you officially still had to work until Wednesday.”

“It’s a technicality. Most of my colleagues were available now, so we might as well have my farewell party now.” Harry shrugs.

“One more reason for me to depart. I’m not your colleague.”

“True. You are my special guest. At my own party I am allowed to have those.”

“I should go. I still have packing to do.”

“Must you go?” memory Harry whined.

Harry wasn’t too keen on witnessing the following scene between his past self and Severus, so he wandered off. He caught sight of Edwin not too far away from the younger Harry and Severus, watching them, more precisely watching the younger Harry with a wishful expression on his face. Harry knew that behind him, memory Severus and Harry were saying their awkward good-bye, but at the moment he was content to stand very close to Edwin, and enjoy the heat coming off his living, breathing body. Harry closed his eyes and let the warmth seep into his soul.

An undetermined amount of time later memory Severus stepped next to them, leaving the Harry from the past behind. Harry hadn’t heard the conversation between Edwin and Severus then, so he couldn’t make out their words this time either, but from this close he could see their expressions. Edwin tensing when Severus approached. Severus saying something, his face closed off but his eyes vulnerable. Edwin nodding, resolutely, his lips thinning into a sharp line.

When Edwin stepped away from them, Harry didn’t follow. He knew Edwin walked back to Harry’s past self, sat down in Severus’ abandoned chair, firm in his determination to be there for Harry. He had his suspicions now that it had been partly because Severus had asked him to. How noble, he thought bitterly. Before leaving him Severus made sure that he wasn’t totally alone.

Harry’s eyes were glued to memory Severus, walking away from him, shoulders sagged a tiny bit more than previously. This time, he saw Severus’ almost imperceptible hesitation at the threshold, the aborted turn of his neck before he departed, leaving both Harrys behind.

***

It was a week later when Severus saw Harry once again. He wanted to give him some space and time, but he really reached the limit of how long he could stay away. He visited him in the shop during lunch time. He couldn’t stop himself from commenting on the dark circles under Harry’s eyes and the general weariness weighing him down.

“You look horrible.”

“Shouldn’t be so generous on the compliments, in the end my ego gets too big.”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Severus deadpanned. “How are you?” he added seriously.

“I’m better, I think,” Harry said, and it sounded like the truth. “Edwin left.”

“I’m glad you feel better. Also, I’m sorry for your loss,” he added truthfully.

“Why are you here, Severus?” Harry asked, his tone utterly serious.

“I wanted to check up on you.”

“No, I mean why have you come back at all?” Harry specified

“It was time to come home,” Severus simply answered.

“And why did you seek me out? Why did you stay? Why did you get elbow deep in my shit, once again? Is that a nasty habit of yours? An addiction or something?” Harry asked, agitated.

“I came because I wanted to. I stayed for the same reason, and because you needed me to stay.”

“Yeah, but why do you care?” Harry asked, and he seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Because you are important to me.”

“I don’t understand. Why did you leave if I’m so fucking important?”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“And is it now?”

Severus sighed. “Sadly, it’s absolutely not.”

“What?” Harry yelled, outraged. ”But… but you came back! You stayed with me only to leave me, again? Is that it?”

“You need to heal, before anything else could happen,” Severus told him calmly.

Harry stepped alarmingly close, boiling with rage. “So if I kissed you now, you would reject me, again?”

“It would pain me very much to do so, but I would.”

“Fuck you!” Harry cried out, and launched forward. He grabbed Severus’ nape and pulled him into a forceful, desperate kiss. Severus would have been lying if he had said he hadn’t reciprocated at all. After all, how could he have resisted the siren call of Harry’s soft, warm lips, devouring him. But he wasn’t feeding the inferno raging inside Harry, instead he calmed him down, turning their kiss into something deep, passionate, but much more meaningful. When they came up for air, they didn’t completely depart, leaning their foreheads against each other. They breathed in the same air for a few minutes.

“Are you leaving again?” Harry asked finally.

“I’m stepping back for a short time, Harry. I’m not leaving, I’m not even sure if I could even if I wanted to.”

“I hate you for this.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

***

The Harry in the memory was definitely drunk. He stood in front of a familiar door, slightly swaying on his legs.

The cold wind of early winter was extremely realistic; as it brushed against Harry’s cheeks it chilled him to the bones. He absentmindedly contemplated that the environmental charms worked flawlessly in the Pensieve. By the time memory Severus opened the door and ushered both of them inside, Harry was shivering with cold alongside his past self.

While memory Harry was clumsily getting rid of his boots and winter attire, drunkenly babbling with abandon, Harry was watching Severus. He was full of snarky comments as usual, berating Harry for getting drunk and burdening Severus with his company, but no matter what he said he still didn’t stop hovering over the unstable form of memory Harry, with a worried look in his eyes. In the past Harry hadn’t caught that particular expression on Severus, but at that moment it was clear as daylight.

Harry followed them as they settled in Severus’ sitting room.

“Spill it, Potter!” Severus barked, losing his already stretched-too-thin patience. He had at least a thousand times ordered Harry to do the very same thing; it was their own code for ‘Leave the nonsense, tell me what’s wrong’.

“I don’t think I’m really cut out for being an Auror,” was what Harry in the past said. He could have talked about several botched up missions, the casualties, the unrealistic expectations, the Boy Who Lived gibberish all over again, but he didn’t have to. This was enough.

“Then don’t be one,” Severus replied simply, categorically, as if he couldn’t see what the problem was.

“I… I can’t. I can’t not be an Auror,” Harry’s memory self said astonished. “What else could I be?”

“Whatever you want to be.”

“But they are all expecting me to… I mean… I can’t let them down, all those who believed in me during the war, and…”

“Hogwash! You have only yourself to be good enough for.”

“I’m not sure I’m good at anything else than chasing dark wizards. And I don’t want to be a disappointment to my friends, to…” you, “everybody.”

“You’re capable of many idiotic accomplishments, Potter, but being a disappointment” to me, “to those who really count is not one of those.”

It was funny, how after all these years Harry finally could hear the unsaid words so very clearly, as he could never before.

The younger Harry sagged powerlessly into Severus’ side on the couch, his head on Severus’ shoulder, Severus’ long arm around memory Harry’s shoulder.

Harry left them to their peaceful slumber and he whispered the password to trigger the wards built into the Pensieve. An impenetrable white wall of fog blocked his view of the previously observed memory. He tried a few tricks to push through them, but they held. He nodded to himself; the wards were working perfectly and the booby traps he designed for intruders were also in place. Satisfied with his work, he left the Pensieve.

***

Severus received the letter almost two months after their last encounter. It said:

Dear Severus,

You are a fucking git and I really want to hate you.

I think I never told you how things went down in the end with Edwin. My therapist thinks I should talk about the things which are bothering me and he also thinks I should talk to you, so two birds, one stone and whatnot. I think it’s a real shame that the only time Edwin and I were totally, brutally honest with each other was the last night he spent on earth. My therapist also suggests that I should learn from past experiences, thus I promise if I ever decide to speak to you in this life again, I will endeavour to be honest with you, and myself as well. Anyway, Edwin and I spent the night talking, and I might have been crying a lot. It was the closest I had ever felt myself to Edwin as a friend. I fell asleep at the table, and by morning he was gone. It was fucking unfair, how I couldn’t hug him good-bye. I think he caressed my hair in farewell, because my skin was chilled for days after, and I was never so grateful for anything in my life; in those first few days without him the chill reminded me I was still alive.

I miss you so fucking much, but I’m still horribly angry with you. Bastard! You noble, self-sacrificing prick. And you’re selfish too. Even if I understand why you left me, twice no less, I still hate you a little for that too. I get it, how you didn’t want to stay after the war, I also see the unfairness of the situation where you have to wait until I grow up. Not to mention the matter of committing yourself twice to the same set of green eyes. Maybe we are over that now, but we sure weren’t then.

Still, I think it’s at least partially your own fucking fault that I couldn’t let poor Edwin move on. I was so unbelievably unwilling to face a life where I lost him too, and I have to move on. Where I must face the reality of being madly in love with you, where I have to do something about that, even if it means I can be rejected, or worse, I can love you and lose you once again. It would have been even worse than losing Edwin, because… Because. You don’t need that spelled out, you undeserving prick.

Anyway, I still hate you. I never stopped loving you. I promise, that someday I will pull my shit together.

Until then yours,

Harry

***

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“Just what I said.”

“But… why? What? When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.” Severus shrugged, the gesture somehow alien on him. “As for the why: I don’t belong here anymore.”

“Yes, you do!”

“I really don’t, Harry, and you know it, too. I just want some time away to leave all the burdens of my past behind.”

“I have just finished the Academy, I could accomp…”

“No.” Fierce and definite. Final. “Your place is here. You worked hard to become an Auror, and Truman will take good care of you as your partner. That poor, misguided boy thinks the sun shines out of your scrawny arse.”

“Edwin is a friend. And a good guy. It’s not him I want.” Memory Harry was full of false bravado, hiding how terrified he was.

“You are my friend, Harry. I never thought you would be, but you are. But you also have your life ahead of you, and I, too, have what is left of mine, which I can’t live here, not for a while, at least.”

“I wanted to give you something, a ‘thank you for helping me survive the Academy’ gift for you.” Memory Harry pulled a phial of swirling memories out of his pocket. “Just a few moments I thought you would appreciate from my point of view.”

“I… don’t have a Pensieve to view them anymore,” Severus said softly.

“Then take them with you! Who knows, maybe you will happen upon a Pensieve somewhere and then you’ll be able to watch and…”

“I don’t think it’s fair if I leave with any part of you, be it your memories or your heart,” Severus says bluntly, unapologetic. “It’s entirely possible that I will never bring them back.”

Harry – the one who is only a visitor in an old memory – can feel the taste of despair and hopelessness on his tongue.

Harry steps closer. “Couldn’t we…”

“No. Please, Harry, don’t push me in this,” Severus asked earnestly, and because so many people had pushed Severus during his life to do things he really hadn’t wanted to, Harry did not.

A short time later younger Harry said his excuses and left. Older, truly grown up Harry went after him, leaving that younger Severus behind. Outside, younger Harry, in a fit of pique, threw the phial with the memories against the wall, then stormed off. The memories, in a rapid-fire show of noises and colours, evaporated into thin air.

Older Harry stayed behind, frozen in time. He waited. Not much later a hand grabbed his own, intertwining their fingers and pulling them out of the memory.

They landed in Severus’ office.

“It’s not too subtle to break into my Pensieve – again, I must say – and leave it on my desk.” Severus’ teasing voice was a caress to Harry’s soul in itself.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to follow me. Believe me, I know the appeal,” was Harry’s cheeky reply.

“Is it some weird replaying of our infamous fifth year encounter?”

Harry snorted. “God, we were obnoxious then.”

“I didn’t hear a no.”

“My therapist suggested that I let you know when I’m ready to move forward.”

“Did he?” Severus asked back absentmindedly, his thumb softly caressing Harry’s hand. They stood there in absolute contentment for a while. It was Harry who broke the silence.

“The memories I broke, it was a confession, you know. The illustrated history of how I fell in love with you.”

“Mhmm.”

“A glorious story, really. Including me sitting by your bedside, fighting over ridiculous things while you’re recovering, you being a stubborn arsehole, our bickering throughout eighth year, me pestering you constantly during my Academy years. A bit lame for a great and romantic love story, but it’s at least ours.”

Severus didn’t comment.

“One day I will show you,” Harry promised. “Even better, I’ll show you the 2.0 version, edited with whole new memories.”

“Deal. Let’s go and make some good memories, then.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry agreed. “Hey, I thought I might add a very mild cheering and calming charm to your Pensieve, for a more relaxed working environment. What do you think?”

“I shall leave it to your expertise, Harry.”