Crossing the Line

Chapter 2: Truce and Omission


Severus watched Potter disappear down the hallway in shocked stillness; his new moon \'fit\' suddenly forgotten. What had just happened? Potter was...being reasonable? But the brat had come along and stolen his couch and refused to leave and...Oh hell, he was being a bastard and he knew it. But...he\'d never expect anyone, Potter least of all, to tolerate him so well and not bloody well try to hex him.

Absentmindedly, he turned and started walking slowly towards his rooms. The more he mulled the evening\'s events, the more he realized Potter had acted much more maturely than he had...That was a frightening thought. They had switched roles...

After slipping quietly into his room and after four and a half hours of sulking over twelve, or so, cups of blood sausage serum (his pain quieted to an unpleasant ache for now) Severus made a startling admission to himself. Potter had never really been such a brat to begin with. An infuriating, childish Gryffindor at times, but... circumstances considered, something Severus had never really bothered to do before, he\'d handled his trials... not so badly. Severus may have been a bitter angry bastard, but...

\"Oh fuck it all to bloody hell!\" Severus muttered, resting his head on the back of his armchair. He was so goddamn tired of this stupid, childish little rivalry he\'d dragged himself into. It was a god awful waste of time, especially with that snake, Voldemort on the rise again; no one had any time for, nor needed, stupid rivalries like this. All right, he\'d been a git. But he wasn\'t a total bastard, he knew when to apologize. Glancing at the clock, he figured he had enough to time to do so before Potter awoke and/or emerged from his chambers.

About a half an hour later he was showered and changed (albeit in less formal clothing than his usual school robes). The pain had already started up again, and he was, if such a thing was possible, paler than he\'d been in years; he would not be able to teach today. He stood in front of Mr. Potter\'s door, flesh re-growing potion in hand. It was a bit stronger than something he\'d give Pomfrey, but hell, he\'d been making potions for the br-Mr. Potter almost constantly since his first year at Hogwarts and, since his yearly battle with Voldemort had not yet occurred, he could probably use it.

He had just raised his hand to knock, when Harry emerged, wand at the ready and the words to hexes ready to spill from his lips. Emerald eyes widened in surprise before narrowing again, but he lowered his wand to his side having no sheath to put it in since he was only wearing a pair of drawstring, navy blue pants. Severus took that as a good sign.

Severus cleared his throat before starting to explain himself. \"Good morning, Mr. Potter. I just came here to... apologize for my behavior last night. It was... wrong of me to be so... sharp with you. And... well... you\'ll be of no use to anyone with your arm like that so... here,\" he finished by pushing the vial into Harry\'s hands.

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Frowning cautiously, Harry looked down at the bottle, recognizing it to be a flesh re-growth potion, the one he had been planning on making himself when his arm didn\'t hurt as much. Well... this was unexpected.

Looking up at the older man, he smiled hesitantly, still somewhat nervous for some reason (and really, did he have to be wearing... that? It showed way too much of his physique. Down Harry! Down!). \"Thanks, I appreciate it. And apology accepted.\" He lifted one bare shoulder in a small shrug. \"It\'s not like that\'s the worst thing you\'ve said to me. We were both just having a bad day, obviously, so we rubbed off on each other in the wrong way.\" His mind was leaving him. \'No Harry, do not think about rubbing. Merlin\'s balls...\' it was too damn early to be seeing the professor.

Looking more closely at the other man, he noticed his complexion. Harry had noticed that Severus was usually pale first thing in the morning, as most people were, but he\'d never seen him this bad before. Maybe that stomach flu was worse then he\'d thought? He was about to mention it, but remembering last night, he kept his mouth shut. Trying to hide the growing concern in his eyes for the older man, Harry continued speaking, \"I admit I should apologize also for being a bit... well, forward.\" Meaning, \'I shouldn\'t have commented on your state of being, since I should have expected you to bite my head off.\' Harry snickered quietly to himself at the thought.

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Severus shook his head slightly at Potter\'s apology and immediately regretted it as the godforsaken muscles in his abdomen clenched horribly from doing so. Taking a breath to steady himself, he said, \"No, you have nothing to apologize for. I\'ve been... stretching out this childish rivalry for... far too long. It\'s really something neither of us needs at the moment.\"

Severus was still dressed all in black; casual khakis and a loose, un-tucked, button-down shirt that was unbuttoned enough to show a good 4 or 5 inches of skin down from his collar bone; skin which one hand came to rest upon when there was another contraction of muscle, his nails digging into the skin momentarily before the pain ebbed a little. Definitely no classes today.

That\'s when he thought of telling Albus and climbing all those Merlin forsaken stairs. His obsidian gaze met Potter\'s once again and, after a mental \'what the hell,\' he asked, \"Would you mind asking Albus to cancel my classes today?\"

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Worrying his lip, Harry looked up at the other man. For him to actually miss his classes, it had to be pretty bad. Frowning, Harry raised a finger in the universal sign for \'just a second\' and dashed off into his study. Going through his organized potions, he finally found the stomach flu potion he was looking for and pulled it off the long shelf. Going back to the door, where the dour man was standing impatiently, Harry mused he really would have invited him in if he\'d thought he\'d actually accept.

Handing the amber coloured potion over, he said somewhat nervously, \"It\'s the Cardiacus potion, it\'s supposed to help the stomach flu-\" he broke off when Severus glared at him. Merlin Harry, he\'s a Potions master, of course he knows what it does! \"I made it myself,\" he ignored the raised brow, \"and I know it\'s good because I\'ve had a lot of training in all things concerning healing.\" \'And death,\' he continued silently. He knew how to make potions that could either kill, or heal you. Those were the ways of his field. Well, his old field.

During half of his Auror career, he\'d been responsible for dealing out healing potions and slipping poisons into drinks. Something he definitely wasn\'t proud of (though no one else, but the team he worked with, knew about it). He was a firm believer in not, figuratively, stabbing people in the back. Although, he did admit he had been occasionally forced to do so when said persons were going to do the same to him. For the other half of his career, he\'d finally quit that line of work, and went into healing. That\'s why he knew so many healing spells. At least it counteracted some of the things he\'d done earlier in his career. Although, even when he\'d quit that field of work, occasionally a job would come up that only he could handle, and he\'d be forced, once again, to kill another soul.

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Severus looked from Potter back to the vial in his hand, \'Interesting,\' he murmured inwardly, \'very interesting.\' The fact that Potter would be so considerate was in itself surprising. Hell, the fact that he was so bloody optimistic was surprising, especially after all he went through at school and all he must have gone through as an Auror. You think he would have learned a little common paranoia by now; it tended to help people in his type of position live a great deal longer, after all. \'Foolish, optimistic Gryffindor,\' he thought, glancing back up at a somewhat flustered Potter.

Still, it was a nice gesture. Severus had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that it looked like a fairly decent job of the potion and, if he thought it would help at all, he would have drunk it. But Potter had no way of knowing the real cause of his distress, or the proper way to help it as there was, as of yet, not even a magical cure for genetics. If Severus had it his way, only Albus would ever know. To this day, it boggled the mind how the man had found out; Severus had certainly never told him, but then again, Dumbledore had a way of knowing things that were mysterious even to wizards.

Looking back at the Gryffindor, he inclined his head slightly and said, \"Thank you, Mr. Potter.\" He took a moment between one phrase and the next to actually look at this frustratingly confusing being before him. Potter, like any other wizard, still held a blissfully youthful look to his face and (as he was lacking a shirt) body; but his hair held several white streaks. This in itself was unusual, both for Muggles and even former Aurors of his age. The streaks could only have come from extreme stress, something a wizard was prone to when in his position. They could, of course, be reversed by his own magic if he would ever lead a rather relaxed life, but as that had yet to happen, even for a brief time for Potter, Severus doubted it ever would.

\"I had better be getting back to my chambers then,\" Severus said at last before turning and making his way back down the hall again, slower than usual.

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Looking after the older man, Harry resisted the urge to call out and ask him to stay and have tea with him. It was a stupid idea anyway. But he looked so tired. And his usually ground-eating pace was slowed to that of a snail.

Sighing, Harry closed his door, warding it automatically, before heading into his bedroom. Pulling out his black dress pants, he slipped off his sleep wear and pulled them on, going commando as he usually did. Taking a pair of dark green socks from the large, cherry wood dresser, he pulled them on, wiggling his toes and smiling slightly at the soft feel of the worn-down cotton against his feet; even as old as he was, he still took pleasure in the simple things in life. It had taken him years to see Dumbledore\'s preference of socks to books for presents. He knew the Headmaster didn\'t often get the presents that he enjoyed simply because everyone thought that he was a high and mighty Wizard, instead of being rather like a family member to whom one could give socks.

Going into his walk-in closet, he browsed the varying selection of robes (the Muggle outfits were all in the dresser) and finally picked a dark green one that looked similar to that of a duster (only falling to mid calf, instead of sweeping the floor like most wizarding robes). The sleeves were a bit more tapered, but he found it a hell of a lot easier to pick his wand out of them, since with the usual style of big, puffy sleeves, it was hard to keep secure control over his wand when it was lost in all the folds. The collar was stiff and went up to his Adams apple, curving neatly around his neck before going down, showing a bit of his tanned flesh, and then joining together. The seams were silver-black, and each silver hook holding the material closed held a small engraved wolf, the mark of the person who had tailored the robe for him. Usually the signature was lost in the seams, but Harry had liked it so much that she\'d offered to engrave it into the buttons.

Finishing up his morning ritual, Harry set out on the long trek up the stairs. Sometimes it really sucked being in the dungeons, although with the peace and quiet, Harry wouldn\'t have it any other way. Even if he did have to travel at least ten flights just to get to Dumbledore\'s office.

Halfway there, Harry thought, \'If I was anyone else, I\'d definitely be calling in a favour from Severus,\' with a small grin. While he was extremely fit from his hard Auror training, and continued exercise (\'Constant Vigilance,\' as Mad Eye Moody would say) climbing up the long flights of stairs was still taxing.

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Severus finished the journey to his quarters and, seeing as it was bloody freezing in them (to him anyway), he pulled on a thick emerald green robe (one of the few things of colour he owned) and settled in front of his fireplace, nursing himself with more blood sausage serum and a favourite book.

This lasted near till mid-morning and he was just beginning to feel stable when, who should barge into his quarters, but Albus Dumbledore. \'Just bloody magnificent.\' Severus, although at least civil to Albus on regular occasions, was still in a very bad mood and was not going to make any efforts today. \"What the hell do you want, Albus?\"

Albus, of course, just smiled cheerfully and settled himself into the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. Severus had wanted to only buy one (since spies didn\'t get much in the way of visitors) but the store had refused because it was a set, so he\'d ultimately succumbed. Of course, no one ever sat in the chair but Albus, and that was a great rarity so, it in particular was as good as new, while the chair Severus preferred to use had gotten comfortably worn. All that and the fact that Albus was sitting cheerfully across from him, with that damned mischievous look in his eye, was all the more reason to hate that chair.

\"Pleasure to see you as well, Severus. I know you are not feeling well--Harry informed me--so I will make this brief.\"

\'Promises...\' Severus muttered irritably in his head, but made no move to stop the elder wizard from speaking.

\"Well as you know, our Harry has mastered just about every form of conventional witchcraft and wizarding there is out there, yet he still seems unable to defeat Voldemort. He might if he had help, but as the prophecy states, it will ultimately be a one on one battle, so I was wondering if you--\"

\"No.\"

\"I haven\'t even told you yet. I promise it\'s nothing too taxing, Severus.\"

\"No.\"

\"I understand you\'re not in a good mood right now,\" Dumbledore murmured, as bloody cheerful and patient as ever, \"but if you would just--\"

\"NO!\" Severus yelled, attempting to rise from his chair, but quickly found out what a bad idea that was. \"Bloody hell, Albus, considering the fact that you know more about me than just about anyone else and I\'ve never told you outright, you should know that I want to deal with that as little as possible. I have done a lot for you, but not this, never this. Besides, I doubt it will help him.\" Albus looked for a second as though he was going to respond, but Severus was glaring all-out, so he obviously decided he best leave well enough alone.

\"You know it wouldn\'t hurt for you to relax and be happy once in a while, Severus. I worry sometimes that you take your spying too seriously.\"

\"It is bloody serious, Albus!\" Severus hissed. \"And as for being happy--I am a happy person. You are like Santa Clause, on Prozac, at Euro Disney, getting laid!\" he scowled, repeating a Muggle born saying that he had heard in his classes that effectively described Albus.

\"Tell you what, Severus,\" he said good naturedly and patiently, as he rose from the chair, \"I\'ll send the house-elves down with some lunch and dinner later and give you a few days to think about it.\" He knew better than to think Severus would respond if he asked him what he thought, so he didn\'t bother. Instead he made his way slowly for the door, pausing just on the threshold to add, \"I do hope you\'re feeling better soon, Severus.\" Severus said nothing, but did manage to hurl his tea cup at the Headmaster\'s head with alarming accuracy. Had the door not been closed when it made contact, he might have had quite a lot more to apologize for when he was better.

He looked morosely at the scattered porcelain on the floor, decided that getting up was no more a better idea now than it had been a few moments ago and returned miserably to his book.

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Not bothering to go down to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry went to the kitchens instead and asked Dobby to bring him two small salads. He ended up with two medium sized salads, a bowl of fruit, two large glasses of pumpkin juice and a two small bowls of pudding. Saying his thanks, he quickly left the kitchen and headed downstairs to eat. When he was out of range of the kitchen doors, Harry made the fruit and juice vanish back into the kitchen\'s supply storage and headed down to the dungeons.

Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked quietly (he\'d never understood why teachers had doors while the students had paintings to guard their dorms, but he later found out it was easier to ward a door from unwanted entry, and a painting, no matter how loyal, could always be convinced to open the door without a password) hoping not to disturb Severus if he had a headache or was sleeping. Waiting for a few moments, he sighed when he received no answer.

Looking down at the food he held in his hands, Harry figured the man was probably too sick to go out, so he turned back to the door. Focusing on the wards, he subtly opened them enough that he was able to make the food appear on the other side of the door. He thought about putting it on a table of some sort, but since he\'d never seen anything on the other side of this old, yet sturdy wooden door, he also knew it wasn\'t smart to try to make something appear where he thought there was something to hold it up. With his luck, he\'d probably end up making it appear inside a chair or something. Muttering his password in Parseltongue along with the other spells to make it open, Harry entered, re-set the wards, and went to his sitting room.

Settling the food down on the glass top covering the black wooden coffee table, he sank into the plush ivory coloured couch. Sighing at the cool press of material underneath him, he started in on his salad and tried to enjoy the peaceful hour before the last two classes started up again. All those nosy kids--Harry didn\'t know how Severus managed it with his lack of tolerance for people in general.

After becoming a professor and experiencing the way the kids acted the first week, his respect for the other man, as well as all the other professors who managed to keep their sanity, rose. What he really hated was when a student accidentally snuck up on him, startling him enough that he automatically pulled his wand out and was ready with a deadly hex on his lips, before even realizing it was a student. Running a hand through his waist length hair, jarring the leather tie that had held it together, Harry sighed and shook the thoughts away.

Sometimes he acted like he was eons older than the students, yet he was only eleven years older then the Seventh Years. Hell, even the professors treated him like a child. He may be the youngest teacher on staff, but he\'d probably experienced more in his life then they had. Not that he was proud of the fact, since half the things he\'d seen... well, he would do almost anything to wipe it from his memory.

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Severus looked up when he felt a slight, subtle pulling at his wards. Only someone other than Albus would knock first. He discreetly read the magical energies coming from the other side of the door, really not wanting to get up since he\'d only just gotten his stomach to quiet down. Potter. He should have known--only he would be that brazen. He was about to yell for him to bugger off (just because he\'d apologized, it didn\'t mean he had to treat him any differently than the other teachers) when a nice little lunch appeared on the other side of the door.

Now why the bloody hell would he do that? Severus, despite his apology, had never been nice to him. In his weakened state (despite the fact he knew he\'d be back to his snarky self by midnight) he had to admit it showed a lot of maturity on Potter\'s part to be so... nice... and... forgiving. He had no clue, of course, that Severus wouldn\'t be able to handle food until midnight, but... it was more of a gesture than he deserved. Severus let out a small sigh and sank further into his chair as he felt the wards replacing themselves. Against his better judgments, he used wandless magic to move the food into a small storage area for later. He was always hungry after these \'fits\'.

It took him another hour to admit that maybe Albus did have a point. However much distorted his cynical, paranoid view of things had been over the years, Potter was a fair wizard. And in the end, it would be him and Voldemort. Broadening Potter\'s horizons could make a difference when push came to shove... and damn it, being so suspicious was exhausting. Not that he wasn\'t still pessimistic, but... Merlin, what harm could it do?

Perhaps he should at least get to know the man a little before he completely wrote off Albus\' idea. He was, under any circumstances, promising anything. But if Potter was receptive and easy enough to fool, Severus might just be able to teach him a few things. For all his studies as an Auror, Harry had still lived a Muggle life and was willing to believe whatever a knowledgeable wizard told him when he encountered something new, as far as Severus knew. And Nosferatu magic wasn\'t so strange after all, just... different.

With a sigh, Severus gently pushed himself up off the chair, pausing a moment to steady himself and, deeming himself well enough, moved to clean up the broken tea cup. He would\'ve normally used magic, but with it being this time of the month, he didn\'t want to tempt fate. He ended up with a scratched hand for his troubles.

Sighing and righting himself when he was done, he glanced at the clock and decided to drift over by Potter\'s quarters and wait for him to return from classes. They weren\'t far and if he was going to start investigating the situation--no, this was not a spy operation--he was just thinking over a suggestion and collecting data. So if he wanted more information, now was as good a time as any to start. He slipped slowly out of his chambers and meandered down to Potter\'s chambers, looking not as ill as that morning, but not well either.

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Taking the tie out of his hair, Harry fiddled with it as he walked down the dungeon stairs. He liked having his hair loose, but while teaching, or anything else that might make it a hindrance, it was best to tie it up. He usually ended up weaving a braiding spell into it and tying the end. Once again, it had been another long day. The students didn\'t seem to understand that they were all in the middle of war. True, it had settled down at the moment, but one could never be too cautious. He just wished he could make them see that. Hell, not even the Seventh Year students seemed to understand. Yet, when he\'d been a Fifth Year, he had understood that in war, like the one they were in, there were casualties and sometimes the people you love die, and there\'s nothing you can do about it, no matter how much you blame yourself. Of course, that bit of logic didn\'t help him any, since he continued to blame himself for the deaths of his friends.

Hating himself even more for getting depressed again, Harry sighed and slipped the black leather tie into his pocket. Running his hands through his hair to unbraid it, he stepped in front of his doors, automatically taking down the locks, before he suddenly turned around, wand raised (when had he drawn it...?) and a quick \'Stupefy\' on his lips, before he realized that it had been Severus he\'d sensed behind him. What was he hanging around Harry\'s chambers for?

Tucking his wand away, the young man tilted his head in question, reaching a hand up briefly to tuck thick locks of white behind his ear that had slipped from behind his back when he\'d whirled around. While Harry stood silent, waiting for the other man to speak, he found himself almost wishing it was spread over, instead of just two solid, thick strips of white running down the hair framing his face--at least it would look more normal then. He was very tempted to ask how he was, since he still looked a bit on the sick side, but he knew his question would only be rebuffed.

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Severus smirked slightly at Potter\'s near cursing him. \"A little jumpy are we?\" Severus said smoothly, raising his eyebrow characteristically at Potter. Said man\'s eye\'s narrowed slightly, but there was no real threat behind them. Just for the old time\'s sake of annoying him a little more, Severus delayed in answering his silent question and chose instead to take in his hair, which he\'d never really seen out before. It was funny how less irritating he was after Severus decided to release his long time bitterness towards the Boy-Who-Lived. He certainly wasn\'t a boy anymore.

He was still very lithe, but Severus knew he had to be strong too. The white streaks were an interesting manifestation of the stress he was obviously going through but didn\'t seem inclined to show. His hair made him look more mature too, in a weird sort of way. It was longer then even Severus\' was now, but it... suited him somehow. Longer hair probably made it easier to look like a woman and disappear into crowds when he was an Auror. Smirking at the thought, Severus lifted his obsidian eyes to Potter\'s emerald ones.

\"I wanted to thank you for delivering lunch. That was... thoughtful of you.\" Severus paused briefly as his stomach twisted unpleasantly. Damn thing always had to have the last word, before continuing. \"I also wished to speak with you. Perhaps over some tea if you\'re not otherwise engaged?\"

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By sheer will, Harry forced away the blush caused by the feeling that he\'d just been checked-out, Harry nodded and opened his door in silent invitation. The taller man brushed past him, looking around while Harry closed the door and re-set the wards. \"Have a seat and I\'ll be right with you,\" he said quietly, motioning towards the sofa he\'d been seated in comfortably during lunch, and the ivory coloured armchair that went with the rest of the small living room set. Flicking his wand at the fireplace to ignite a small fire, Harry went into his rooms and changed into his more comfortable Muggle clothes--a white tee that set off his tan nicely, and faded black jeans. Toeing off his boots, he set them beside the bedroom door and went into the bathroom to brush his hair out and relieve himself.

Quickly finished with his after class ritual, he walked back out and went into the kitchen that was connected to the sitting room by a swinging door. Making rosemary tea, both for his usual headache and for the fact that he knew Severus often drank it during dinner, he set a warming charm on it and carried it out on a small tray, along with a few biscuits. Setting it on the right side of the glass top, closest to the single armchair that was turned slightly to face the fireplace (as he liked to stare into the flames when he wanted to relax) Harry resisted the urge to sink into the comfortable couch. He did have company after all, company that would be sure to point out his weakness. The young man settled into the corner of the couch and sipped his tea quietly. After several quiet minutes passed, by no means uncomfortable, Harry finally sighed and looked over at Severus. \"You wanted to speak to me?\"

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Severus glanced over at Potter from over his tea cup. It was ironic he\'d picked rosemary (he must have a headache) because that was something Severus often had late in the afternoon. He preferred mint, but it was always good to safeguard against the headaches his \'condition\' brought on occasionally when he went for long periods of time without feeding. He was feeling better, although nowhere near ready to eat or drink conventionally, but for some reason he\'d felt compelled to take a few, polite sips. So far the liquid hadn\'t affected his stomach, but he didn\'t want to press his luck too much, so he set it back down at Potter\'s words.

\"Yes, I did.\" He shifted slightly on the sofa so that he could look at Potter without straining his neck too much. \"Since your fifth year you\'ve known that, in the end, it would be an all out, one on one fight with Voldemort. No one can deny you\'ve learned quite a bit of magic since then, but, as of yet, you have been unable to defeat him.\" Severus paused to clear his thoughts. If he presented this right, Potter would be able to receive training without ever having to know the truth behind it. \"I am privileged,\" he said \'privileged\' with a healthy dose of sarcasm, \"to know a different branch of magic that could give you an edge the next time you fight him. It\'s not easy as it involves more tapping into the source of your powers than wand waving and speaking spells, but given that you blew-up your aunt as a young teen, I think you have the talent for it.\"

Severus had been blunt, as usual, but not so harsh in tone, half because Voldemort wasn\'t an easy subject for anyone and half because he was still kind of weakened. It was a rather blunt way to propose an idea, but Potter appreciated directness; that much was obvious after his Fifth Year catastrophes.

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Frowning, Harry sipped his tea, wishing the damn liquid would hurry up and help his headache already.

Running a hand through his neatly brushed hair, making it mussed once again, the young man looked into the flames, thinking. It was true that the on and off again battle he was fighting with Voldemort seemed to be a stalemate; they desperately needed to win it soon, before more Muggles and wizards got hurt.

Leaning forward, he set his empty cup next to Severus\' full one and leant back into the chair again, trying not to slouch too much from weariness. \"Who taught you?\" he finally asked. Wondering why Severus was \'privileged\' (to use the other man\'s own words) to know this type of magic, but no one else was able to teach him.

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\"My mother taught me,\" Severus explained, hoping that would satisfy Potter and prompt no further questions. He still wasn\'t entirely sure he wanted to teach him all that much and he definitely wouldn\'t be too thrilled if he kept asking questions. It was all too easy for those questions to get personal. The last person he ever imagined sharing even marginal personal information with was Potter.

It took a certain type of person to master, or even learn Nosferatu magic. All Nosferatu could, it was in their blood, but in regular wizards it took something unique. Then again that was one of the better words to use when describing Potter, so everything seemed to be working out for the best. If there wasn\'t something in the code about luck, there should have been.

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Obviously, he wasn\'t going to get much more from the man than that. Sighing, Harry looked down, thinking about the pros and cons. It was obviously going to be hard work, but that was nothing new to him. It was also probably going to tire him even more, but maybe that would make him sleep easier--without the nightmares. Glancing up at the other man through thick lashes and seeing his obvious discomfort at being there, Harry could guess that Dumbledore had put Severus up to this. And if he didn\'t accept, then he\'d probably end up getting a lecture disguised as a \'little chat\' with Dumbledore.

Shoulders sagging slightly in weariness at what he knew was to come and being reminded of the damned battle that he\'d been fighting since he was only fifteen, Harry looked back up at the professor. \"When and where?\"

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\"Tomorrow is Saturday, there will be a four day weekend for November break. That seems like a good a time as any to me,\" Severus murmured, really taking in Potter, almost as if for the first time. He had all the bodily youth associated with being a wizard, but his eyes were deeper and wiser than even someone twice his age should\'ve been. Severus, simply by making most of the potions he\'d needed while at school, knew there were more than a few other scars sprinkled across that \'youthful\' frame. He\'d been fighting a war he probably never wanted any real part in since he was a child. Helping him would not be such a bad idea; Severus was just as fond of Voldemort as the next wizard, after all.

\"Now, it might be better just to talk things over. Performing this type of magic takes a clear head, something most teachers can\'t have without practice. Talking is a good way to start though, unless perhaps, you picked up any meditation skills as an Auror--something I highly doubt.\"

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Blushing faintly, just a small tint of rouge at the top of his cheekbones, Harry shook his head. \"They tried teaching me meditation courses, but they never seemed to work on me. And while in the field, I was able to block most of my personal thoughts and just focus on the mission, so they didn\'t really concern themselves too much with me not being able to meditate. Of course, that didn\'t help me afterwards,\" he added quietly. Shaking his head once again to, unsuccessfully, rid himself of the flashbacks of what had happened while he was in the field, Harry frowned and looked over at the other man; he hoped that he wasn\'t disappointed in him. Wait--what the hell was he thinking? Of course Severus was disappointed in him, wasn\'t everyone? Dumbledore sure as hell was. Don\'t think he didn\'t notice the looks Dumbledore and sometimes even the other professors gave him when they thought he wasn\'t looking. Disappointed in him for not ending the war sooner.

Clenching his jaw, Harry willed himself to relax; there was no point in getting worked up about it. He had accepted it as a fact of life that people would be disappointed in him no matter where he went. They held him on a pedestal and yet each day they repeatedly hit the stand, watching him crumble with sick satisfaction.

Merlin, he really was getting melancholic in his old age.

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The dejected look that crossed Potter\'s face wasn\'t lost on Severus; he\'d seen it in the mirror many times before. No wonder Potter had white streaks in his hair. And he thought he had it bad from Albus; the man sitting before him must have been harassed more than anyone else. Hell, all Severus had to do was lift his self esteem a little; that might be all he needed to get the edge on Voldemort and Severus would never have to divulge anything too personal.

\"Good,\" Severus murmured, smirking as Potter\'s head shot up in confusion. \"It will be much easier to teach you with a clean slate, no bad habits. You see, the style of meditation that the Auror division uses is simply clearing the mind--this particular branch of magic requires clearing of the mind, but also focusing on other things afterward. Someone like you might find that easier.\" Severus tipped his head to the side and studied Potter\'s features closely. \"It might also help you sleep longer and more deeply.\" As an afterthought to himself, Severus added, \'It certainly looks as though you could use it.\'

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He didn\'t cheer up at the thought that it would make him sleep longer and more deeply. That just meant more time to have a nightmares or visions. Fucking Voldemort--it was mostly his fault that Harry had trouble sleeping. Besides the things he\'d done as an Auror, Voldemort sent him visions of what was going on, almost nightly, and it usually consisted of torturing some poor Muggle family... or that little boy he\'d witnessed. No! He would not think about that now!

Trying to redirect his thoughts, Harry asked, \"When do we get started?\" Auror meditation, since it was basically on the run, so to speak, consisted of closing your eyes and simply focusing on your magic and nothing else but that. It heightened your magic abilities and left your mind blank except for what you needed to think about--mainly, the mission.

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\"Sometime tomorrow, come to my quarters. I\'ll leave the wards down enough for you to get in, although you seemed to do well enough with that food today.\" Severus paused briefly before adding, \"I\'ll lead you in a guided meditation to get you used to things; after a time it will come easily to you. Then we simply need to work on focusing that energy to a specific goal.\"

Severus paused once more to let another cramping pass before continuing again. \"Today it might be best to simply try and relax as much as possible.\"

Not trusting Potter to be capable of doing this on his own, Severus decided to initiate conversation. Nosferatu magic was very up-close and personal after all, even when being vague about its true origin as Severus planned to be. It would help if they knew each other a little better, considering they\'d only recently come to neutral ground. \"How were the students today, Potter? I\'m sure they were thrilled at my absence,\" he finished with an evil smirk that made it clear he had plans to make up for lost time.

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Grinning faintly, both at the subtle compliment about managing to get through Severus\' wards, and at the question, Harry replied, \"They were abnormally happy. Since they won\'t be seeing you until Wednesday, they were almost bouncing in their seats,\" he exaggerated with a small grin.

\"Dumbledore had me substitute for you by combining both my class and yours. We were covering the Henceparvusvmoica, or just HP, since it\'s easier to say.\" About to go on, he paused when he saw Severus\' slight confusion. He didn\'t know what it was? Well, of course he didn\'t, considering Harry was the one to create it, and it was still new on the market. It wasn\'t anything fantastic though. Just something he threw together after some experimenting, and he found it easier to go out on the field, or even just walking down the halls of Hogwarts.

\"I created it a few years ago while I was still an Auror. It helps to protect against low level curses. But I found it a hell of a lot easier to go out onto the field after washing my robes in sterilized water with two drops of the potion. It also helps when it comes to Hogwarts, too,\" he added with a grin. \"The students seem to love cursing each other in the hallways when they think no teachers are about. So it protects me from any flying curses. It also protects me from very weak wizards or witches, even when they throw deadly curses at me.\" He shrugged. \"It\'s not much, but it does help me be able to focus on more important things while in the field or just as a professor in general.\"

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Severus\' eyebrows climbed towards his hairline in mild surprise. That was much more than he\'d expected from Potter, considering his track record in class. Being an Auror for so long though, he\'d had more than enough time to improve. It made Severus curious as to exactly what else Potter had picked up over the years. Probably a hell of a lot, he\'d seemed increasingly frustrated as his school days ended; he didn\'t seem strong enough to kill the great snake that was the bane of his existence.

\"Very practical of you,\" Severus observed, \"almost Ravenclaw-like. Ah, the HP was no doubt a conscious or subconscious self promotion. A Slytherin trait. I\'m beginning to wonder if there\'s a signal house you don\'t have the attributes of.\" Severus glanced around the room briefly before turning back to Harry. \"What other sorts of things have you picked up over the years?\"

He wasn\'t asking purely out of the need to gather data for what he would later be attempting to teach Harry, but he was actually interested. After all, if one of his worst potions students could lift their level of skill enough to make decent potions, it was something of note.

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Biting his lip, Harry wondered what to tell him. He\'d picked up a lot of things over the years--from learning how to spell his robes to reflect curses and spills, all the way to how a body reacts if too much of the most deadly of poisons is ingested. Where to start?

Taking a deep breath, he summarized as best he could without going into too much detail. \"I know how to make and when to distribute a healing potion of almost any variety or strength, which potions lose their effectiveness when put in liquids or food,\"--he wouldn\'t mention what kinds of potions he had to learn that for--\"the pressure points on a human body, a lot of physiological things about the human mind concerning torture, both physical, magical and verbal. I\'ve been trained in the art of stealth and I can use any Muggle weapon, since they\'re less testy than some magical items. Although I have trouble with using arrows.\" His voice and expressions was carefully neutral when he passed over the more... touchy subjects, things that normal people didn\'t know, or even think of bringing up in conversation.

Tilting his head slightly, Harry asked, \"Is there anything else you need to know?

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Severus listened intently through Potter\'s explanation, nodding occasionally. It was obvious he was leaving things out. He had been an Auror for Merlin\'s sake. Severus wasn\'t stupid; he knew the types of things Aurors went through. Some of the nastier aspects were just as bad as being a spy. Severus had been there and wisely didn\'t press for more information than Potter was willing to give.

At Potter\'s last sentence, Severus felt it was probably time to leave. Neither of them was exceptionally fond of the other, having only recently declared a truce. It would be unwise to overstay his welcome. \"Nothing at the moment, Potter,\" he said, simply glancing at the clock above the mantle. To his relief it was nearly dinner time, giving him the perfect excuse to leave without seeming too friendly, or too cold. \"Anyway, I\'d better not keep you; dinner will be soon.\" He stood slowly, mindful of his weakness and not at all happy about it. He nodded briefly to Potter and murmured, \"I\'ll see you tomorrow,\" before turning to go. He had another full evening of this godforsaken curse to look forward to, after all.

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Shaking his head to rid himself of his inner monologue, Harry stood to open the door for Severus out of common hospitality. Looking at the sickly complexion and the twitching hand, as though he was willing himself not to hold on to his stomach, Harry frowned and looked up at the man. \"The potion didn\'t work?\" that was strange; it was one of his best batches. He knew there was nothing wrong with it. Well... unless Severus hadn\'t taken it. Harry gave a mental sigh. Of course he didn\'t, he\'d never trusted Harry before, why start now just because of a truce?

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\"I didn\'t take it,\" Severus explained, turning to face Potter. Upon seeing him almost shrink in on himself, he sighed and took pity on him. The last thing he needed was for him to berate himself more; it would interfere with the meditation. \"Look at me, Potter,\" Severus said in a tone that was not harsh, but brooked no argument. Once Potter had lifted his eyes to meet Severus\' he explained. \"It wouldn\'t have helped,\" Severus explained. \"Believe me, I\'ve wasted a few years of perfectly good potions on this... problem. Potions do not help.\" Severus took a breath to steady himself before adding, \"It was a nice gesture, though, and it didn\'t look like a half bad batch--that\'s why I kept it.\"

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Harry smiled slightly, glad that he hadn\'t taken it because he didn\'t trust Harry\'s skills. \"Careful now, wouldn\'t want to exceed your quota of compliments all in one day,\" he said, his smile brightening at Severus\' smirk. He was tempted to question him on what the \'problem\' was, but he knew he wouldn\'t get a completely honest answer (since Severus never lied out right, that didn\'t mean he didn\'t lie by omission). Instead he continued, \"I hope you feel better soon.\" He frowned, thinking, \"I can always come see you on Sunday if you\'re still not up to it tomorrow. Unless of course, you\'re busy,\" he added respectfully.

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\"Thank you,\" Severus said nodding his head politely. \"I assure you I will be just fine tomorrow. See you then, Potter.\" With one last nod of the head, Severus began to make his way slowly back to his rooms. God how he hated the new moon. He\'d have his work more than cut out for him by Wednesday. They would be rumors flying around that he\'d died, not having shown up for classes, or meals, no doubt invoking much joy from the students. \'No matter,\' he sighed to himself inwardly, \'I can give them as much hell as they dish out.\'

Creeping back into his rooms, he lit the fire with wandless magic. He set the wards to alert him if anyone stopped in front of his door (just to be sure he would miss this time if Albus came to drag him to dinner) and settled back in front of his fireplace with his book.

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Closing the door softly, Harry set the wards, weaving his usual silencing spell, glamour, and the other spells that made sure anyone who had heated, ill thoughts of him would not be able to even touch the door, less if they were his enemy and planned on killing him in his sleep.

The glamour charm was for when he walked out. The spell was created so that when he stepped outside the doors, all his major and minor scars would be hidden--less questions that way. And when he went back into his rooms, the glamour spell ended, unless someone was with him. Even if he just opened the door, the spell automatically sprung up. Most people would think of it as vain, but Harry just didn\'t want the questions and stares. He knew the many scars made his body less than desirable, so maybe it was a bit vain. It didn\'t matter, since Harry would never take a lover. A relationship in this time of the war meant death, for both or one party involved. And as he\'d already experienced, the death was always of his lover.

Sighing, Harry cleared away the tea and biscuits, cleaning them with a small washing charm and putting them back in the glass covered cabinets neatly.

Heading to the bathroom, he took his nightly shower, trying to relax his muscles. Fuck, he was so tired. Severus\' class had been hell. Gryffindors and Slytherins--his own class had been Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Not fun to have all four houses in one room. It was a bloody nightmare. Resting his forehead against the cool, light blue and white marble tile, Harry sighed and finally turned off the tap. Drying his body with the fluffy black towel, he avoided looking in the bathroom mirror and went back into his sitting room, knowing he wouldn\'t sleep for awhile.

Using a drying spell to make sure he didn\'t drip on the Persian rug, a very light blue, he sank into the armchair that Severus had only recently been sitting in and curled up, staring into the flames. Absently running a finger up and down the light red scar over his left eye, standing out against the light golden tan, Harry sighed and rested his cheek on his hand. Maybe he could hope to just doze off here.