The Merryweather Hotel

Part One

Harry was sitting back in his swivel chair, his boot-clad feet on the desk.

“They’ve got the population survey results,” he announced, opening the Quibbler.

Ron Weasley, who was playing Liar Dice with Clarence Hicks and Malcom Ollivander called out: “Two sixes. So what’s the big number, this year?”

“Sixty-four percent.”

“Including Muggle-borns?” asked Hicks. “Four threes.” He was bluffing of course. Harry could tell from halfway across the room.

“Yes. Birth rate 1.75.”

That meant sixty-four percent of all children born with magical abilities in 2009 were male. Up from sixty-two percent in 2007 and fifty-five percent in 1949. The birth rate in Britain had been decreasing for years due to low fertility and an ever-worsening shortage of witches of childbearing age. This state of affairs was not unique to Britain.

“Mione and I have done our duty,” Ron said primly, referring to his two little ones, Rosie, age two, and nine month old Hugo. “Not like some slackers around here.” He pushed Clarence’s chair with his foot.

Romilda Vane-Hicks, who was the only one in the Auror’s office actually doing any work at the moment, looked up from her report.

“We’ve only been married six weeks, you big lug!”

“Excuses, excuses,” said Ron. “Let me know if you youngsters need some advice or anything.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, looking ridiculous.

Romilda snorted. Clarence called out, “Four fours. Weep, Weasley.”

Reluctantly, in the past ten years, the wizarding world had finally had to admit that the situation has become a crisis. In an attempt to find a solution, and in what was an unusually cooperative effort, an Annual International Conference on the Wizarding Population Crisis had been organized. The 2010 Wiz-Pop, as it had been dubbed by the media, was taking place in London.

Because it was a scientific conference more so than a political one, security was not as much of an issue as it could have been. Nonetheless the DMLE was on full alert in preparation, and every Hit-Wizard had been and would continue to be on duty until the end of the conference.

In a sharp contrast, it had been an uncommonly slow week for the Aurors. They were all in their staff room at the Ministry, officially ‘writing reports’. At one time, the staff room had been divided by cubicles, Aurors working on separate cases having little contact with one another. That it had been a flaw had become obvious after it was remedied. Captain Howard, a Muggle-born, had taken over and brought some understanding of human psychology to the reorganization of the force. The common space unified them, made them greater than the sum of their parts.

Romilda’s partner, Peter Adams, was actually sleeping, his mouth hanging inelegantly open. As he walked in, Captain Howard slapped him in the back of the head with a handful of files, waking him up rather brusquely, though he generally didn’t mind their lackadaisical attitude. When it counted, his Aurors were the best there had ever been.

He pushed Harry’s feet off his desk, almost causing the swivel chair to tip over and sat on the corner. He waved the files in his hand.

“I’ve got a request for three of you to be assigned to the security of the American delegation to Wiz-Pop.”

Though much rolling of the eyes and moaning ensued, the truth was that they all wanted the job: it would be a nice break from the routine, three nights in the nicest wizarding hotel in London (The Merryweather, right in Theatric Alley), meals provided by the hotel’s three-star restaurant, and the chance to meet interesting, intelligent people who did not happen to be dark wizards in trouble with the law.

They ended up rolling sixes for it, borrowing a die from Ron. To everyone disgust, Harry rolled one on his first try.

“Lucky with the dice, unlucky in love,” teased Ron.

“Right,” said Harry. “I should go to Vegas. Break the bank.”

It was ten minutes before Romilda Vane-Hicks rolled one, and yet another three turns before her new husband, Clarence, finally did, ruining Ron’s theory rather spectacularly. Ron tried to get Clarence disqualified since married couples usually were not put on the same assignment.

“Nice try, Weasley,” laughed the Captain, “but this isn’t exactly high risk. There are three scientists, two of them a married couple. Harry can be assigned to the gentleman, and Romilda to his wife. Clarence will babysit the third one.”

The Captain addressed the three of them. “It should be pretty straight forward. They received some life threats, that our estimated colleagues from the FBMI think were a hoax.” He pulled a face. “But. Your guy, Harry, is the Keynote speaker, and their research is supposed to be the big news at the conference, so . . .look sharp.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Howard handed each of them a thin folder.

“The American delegation is arriving tomorrow afternoon at three by special Portkey, right in the lobby of the Merryweather. You’ll shadow them the entire time, and you will be staying in a bedroom in their suite. Their profiles and schedules are in there. Enjoy!”

Harry took a sip of his coffee, leaned back in his chair and placed his feet back on his desk. He opened the folder and spent the next five minutes staring at the picture of the man whose security he was to see to.

He thought the man’s face had character: sharp cheekbones, a prominent aquiline nose, very pale complexion, and piercing, intelligent, dark eyes. His long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail; that was really the only difference Harry could see between the face in the photograph and the face he remembered from his youth. The ‘American’ scientist, the Keynote speaker of the conference he would spend three days protecting was Severus Snape.

Harry had not seen that face in almost twelve years, and yet, it still brought a lot of long-buried emotions to the surface. Immediately after the trial where Severus Snape had been only reluctantly exonerated (despite the evidence left behind by Albus Dumbledore and Harry’s own testimony), the man had completely disappeared. His house in Spinner’s End had been sold, his small inheritance from Albus Dumbledore cashed in, and he had not been seen or heard from since.

Harry had always thought he had retired to the country and was living under an assumed name. If the man wanted to be forgotten, Harry would do his best to forget him. Merlin knew Snape deserved some peace.

It had never occurred to him to imagine Snape in sunny California, in the open, with a whole new life, getting married for heaven’s sake… He realized he actually almost resented him for not neatly fitting the image Harry had had of him all those years. Harry shook his head at his own pettiness.

Snape, his wife Serena Marcos-Snape, and his colleague Steven Harper were Potions Masters and researchers at the Magical University of the Pacific, in San Francisco. One thing Harry felt he could still be certain of. Severus Snape was the last person in the world to need protection.

“Harry!” cried Romilda, looking through her paperwork. “Says here Serena Marcos’s husband is a Severus Snape. Is it our Severus Snape?”

Harry slipped the picture he had been staring at from under the paper clip that held it to the man’s profile and turned it to Romilda Vane.

“The one and only,” he said.

“Merlin’s pants. Do you want to back out?”

A part of him wanted to, of course. But luckily, that was not the part in charge. Harry smiled at her. “Romilda, come on, it’s been twelve years. I’m actually kind of looking forward to seeing him again."


Severus Snape put down the Potions Quarterly he had vainly been trying to read for the past twenty minutes. He looked around the office he had occupied for the past ten years. The walls were now barren, the shelves well-organized. He got up, walked to his window, and looked at the familiar view of the sunny Campus Quad.

He had finished packing an hour before. Tomorrow, at this time, he would be back in Britain. Finally. The past twelve years had been good, but California had never felt like home. Too much newness, too much sunshine. Though no one could have guessed it from his usual cool and detached demeanor, he felt like a small child on Christmas morn. He was going home.


The next day, the three Aurors were at the Hotel at 1PM, reviewing the safety procedures with the hotel’s security, which was top notch, and the hit-wizards in charge of the security of the conference. Things looked well under control. They dropped off their bags in the smallest of the four bedrooms of the suite reserved for the American delegation, transfigured the huge king size bed into three singles, and made their way to the Lobby.

The Merryweather Hotel had opened its doors in 1874, and though it had been remodeled extensively in 2001, becoming a Conference Hotel through the judicious use of wizard space, the architects had been wise enough not to touch the original décor. It retained its aura of quiet expensive luxury.

At three o’clock exactly, the three ‘Americans’ appeared and were welcomed effusively by the Organizing President of the Conference, a rubicund little man who seemed completely out of his depth.

“Welcome! Welcome! Master Snape, Master Marcos, Master Harper, it is an honor! May I introduce you to your personal security? Uh…”

Romilda saved the man from embarrassment by stepping forward and greeting Serena Marcos.
“Master Marcos, I am Romilda Vane and will be your security escort for the duration of the conference.”

Serena Marcos-Snape was thin and pretty, probably in her late forties, with very short hair and a pleasant smile. She wore plain but well-cut red robes and had a no-nonsense air about her. She shook Romilda’s hand warmly.

“Auror Vane, a pleasure to meet you.” Harry could not help but look at the woman who had married Severus Snape with interest, and thought that she was not at all what he had expected, though to be fair, he had no idea what that would have been…

“Master Harper, I am Clarence Hicks.”

Steven Harper had grey hair, extremely thick glasses and the radiant smile of a much younger person. His light grey robes looked as if he had slept in them, perhaps more than once. He shook Clarence’s hand in both of his.

“Auror Hicks, nice to meet you,” and then looking around, “Glad to be here.”

Harry stepped up to Severus Snape, who, aside from the tie holding his hair back, looked exactly as he had always done, tall, dark, and forbidding, and greeted him with a short nod.

“Master Snape.”

Harry was impressed. Snape’s expression stayed perfectly composed as he returned the nod.

“Auror Potter.”

There was no way Snape could have expected him. After all, Harry was only here because of the roll of a dice. The man was as much in control of himself as ever.

In the elevator, Romilda and Serena Marcos chatted like old friends.

“Please, Auror Vane, call me Serena.”

“Then you must call me Romilda…”

Harper had a very thick southern accent, in complete contrast to Clarence’s aristocratic, vowel-clipping English, and the two of them could have been speaking different languages for all the communication they were able to achieve, but both of them being easygoing and naturally friendly, they enjoyed the humor of the situation.

Harry met Snape’s eyes in their reflection on the polished brass of the elevator door and thought he saw the slightest twinge at the corner of his mouth.

The Suite was gorgeous, with opulent furniture, antique rugs, original oil paintings on the walls and gorgeous draperies. The Americans were pleased at their palatial accommodations, exclaiming about the enormous four-poster beds, the marble baths with the huge claw foot tubs, and the thick, plush towels. Snape looked on, apparently amused.

Romilda explained that one of the Aurors would be on duty at all times, and that they were never to open the door or leave the suite unaccompanied. Harry was surprised that none of them protested the safety measures, and started to wonder about the actual seriousness of the threats they had received.

“Severus, it’s close to midnight west coast time,” said Serena, yawning discreetly. “I’m going to turn in: I’ll see you at breakfast.” Harry wondered vaguely if all American couples slept in separate bedrooms.

“Yeah, I think I’ll go and rest my eyes too,” Harper concurred . “Hate that jet lag, don’t you know. G’night, y’all.”

“Good night.” Snape showed no sign of wanting to retire. He was standing by the window, taking in the distant view of the Thames.

Harry caught a lingering look between Romilda and Clarence. He knew they had taken notice of the enormous bathtubs as well…

“Hey guys, I’ll take the first shift. I’ll get one of you at 11:00.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

“Yes, no problem.” Though they were not suffering from an eight-hour jet lag, they disappeared to their room without arguments.


As the Portkey deposited him in the hotel lobby, the smell of beeswax, the subdued lighting, the gorgeous fabrics and the bellboys' uniforms, all screamed ‘Victorian England’. Though he had yearned for home, the sense of rightness and immediate comfort still came as a surprise to Severus. Even the muted background noise felt right. The conversations around him had the proper intonations and rhythm of the speech.

There were the Aurors, waiting for them: a tall man, so British-looking as to almost be a caricature, a lovely familiar-looking young woman, probably a former student of his, and a third fellow. Kindly rescuing the slightly overwhelmed conference president, Romilda Vane introduced herself to Serena. Hearing her name, Severus felt a wave of unease. He had taught her Potions for four years, DADA for one, and she had been a sixth year during his tenure as Headmaster. A Gryffindor, as well. How quickly the past returned to haunt him...

He was quite certain he had never met Clarence Hicks. Small mercies. The last Auror stepped forward, and Severus realized that until then the man had been projecting a discreet but efficaciously cast Notice–me-not spell.

It was Harry Potter.

And he hadn’t even been back for five minutes. Unbelievable.

On the ride up in the elevator, he took the time to observe the younger man. He had always been small, but was now almost of average height. The Auror uniform was flattering to his lean frame, the rune-engraved protective belts accentuating his trim waist and broad shoulders. His hair still looked somewhat untamed, but his face had lost the roundness of youth. It was fine-boned, but very masculine.

The transformation that had started in his sixth year was complete. There would never be any mistaking him for his father now. The high cheekbones were Lily’s, as were the well-defined eyebrows. The rest was all his own. Even behind the ever-present round glasses, his eye color was striking. Why he should still wear those was a mystery to Severus. A strange affectation to be sure.

In the suite, Severus listened with amusement to the exclamations of his American colleagues, enchanted by the hotel’s old world charm, as he took in the view of the Thames. He was home at last.


Snape was pouring himself a drink from a crystal decanter on the sideboard.

His back turned, he offered, “Make yourself comfortable, Auror Potter. Can I serve you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you. I believe there is Perrier water in the refrigerator.” Harry undid his many belts, removed his red outer robes and sat in one of the leather armchairs angled to the fireplace, his wand at his side. In the ornate mirror above the mantel, he could see the locked front door. He knew from discussing it with the hotel security that morning that the Floo had been disabled, but thought it was the weak link in the security.

Snape brought him an opened bottle of Perrier and a glass on the edge of which he had bothered setting a wedge of lemon, and set them on a casual table in reach of Harry’s left hand. It left Harry’s right hand free to handle his wand if need be. Snape then took a position similar to his, in the matching leather chair, allowing himself the same easy view of both the door and the fireplace. Harry smiled.

“You don’t need me here,” he commented, glad for some reason that he had been right, and that Snape was still Snape.

“I have to sleep sometime,” was Snape’s cool answer.

“Were the threats that serious? Our Captain suggested they might have been a hoax.”

“I requested the Aurors.”

“Ah.”

In Harry’s opinion, that put an entirely different light on their assignment.

“My… wife and my associate are hopeless. They have never known physical danger.”

“Vane and Hicks are very good.”

Snape nodded in acknowledgement. “Newlyweds?” Apparently nothing escaped the man.

“Did the matching bands give them away?”

Snape snorted. “That and maybe their eagerness to retire at four in the afternoon. Non-withstanding that Silencing Charm…”

Harry had felt Clarence place the charm but was surprised Snape had. It had been very discreet. He had many questions for Snape, but knew the man was not one for idle personal chitchat, and held his tongue. They drank companionably for a while.

“You have learned the value of silence,” Snape commented.

Of course, Harry replied nothing. Snape made eye contact, his mouth definitely twitching this time. Harry smiled.

“All right, Potter. As the only news from home I have had for the past twelve years have been from the occasional Daily Prophet, I shall ask. Hogwarts?”

Harry could hardly imagine cutting oneself so completely from one’s roots, but then again, what had Snape had to lose? Harry had no idea how close a relationship the man had enjoyed with his colleagues before that last fateful year. He knew they had thought well of him, but nothing more.

“Minerva McGonagall is well. Headmistress, of course. Filius Flitwick is still there, still head of Ravenclaw, still a favorite of the students. Hagrid has retired to the south of France; Charlie Weasley is Keeper of the Keys. He is married, and has four sons. Pomona Sprout is in semi-retirement. Neville Longbottom teaches half the Herbology classes. Firenze has gone back to his herd, but Trelawney still teaches Divination. Potions are taught by Professor Jiggers, the son of the apothecary. There has been a new DADA teacher every year, of course. Professor Sinistra, Professor Vector, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince are still there. Filch passed away. Gregory Goyle has taken his place.” Harry had always gone up to visit every few months, but did so more often now that his godson was there.

“My Slytherins?” Even after all these years, they were still “his”. It might have surprised him more had he not known how Minerva felt about “her” Gryffindors.

The only Slytherin Harry was in touch with on a semi-regular basis was Theodore Nott. He gave it his best shot, nonetheless.

“Malfoy is an attorney. He lives at Malfoy Manor with his wife, Astoria Greengrass, and their son. Lucius died six years ago, in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy lives with her sister Andromeda Tonks.” Since Andromeda had raised Teddy, and Harry had always taken an active part in his godson’s life, he had gotten to know Narcissa very well and liked her very much, a bit of personal information he felt no need to share. “Pansy Parkinson married a French wizard, a count I think; Theodore Nott is a Healer at St Mungo’s. Flint plays for the Chudley Cannons, and Blaise Zabini is a successful dress robe designer. Millicent Bulstrode apprenticed with Ollivander. She’s making a name for herself as a great wandmaker. I don’t know much about anyone else.”

“Your friends?”

Harry glanced up at Snape. Was he just being polite? But he looked attentive and interested, and Harry saw no reason to not satisfy the man’s curiosity.

“Ron Weasley is an Auror. He and Hermione Granger are married. They have two children, a boy and a girl. Hermione works at the Ministry; she is an Unspeakable. Arthur Weasley is the head of the department of Muggle artifacts, and Molly takes care of some of her grandchildren: Ron’s two, Bill’s four, and Percy’s three. She has her hands full.”

“How many girls?” That had become a common question in the past ten years or so.

“Well, as I said, Ron has a daughter, Rose. Bill has one as well, Victoire. The other seven are boys.” Snape nodded.

“George Weasley?”

“He still owns Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and is richer than God. Lee Jordan works with him. Huh… George and Neville are together.”

“What about Miss Weasley?”

“Mrs. Thomas. She plays for the Harpies. She has been married to Dean for ten years. They don’t have any children yet.”

Snape was looking pointedly at him, but Harry had no intention of volunteering personal information. If Snape wanted to know, he could ask. He didn’t.

“Miss Lovegood?”

“She runs the Quibbler. She married Seamus Finnegan. They have three daughters. She is pregnant again. Twin girls. Seamus says they are single-handedly going to correct the wizarding population problems. She credits her radish earrings.”

Snape smirked. “She was always a favorite of mine.”

“Luna?”

“Yes. Brilliant.” Seeing Harry’s surprise, he added, “Unusual, but brilliant.”

Harry was nonplussed. He had not thought Professor Snape had liked any of his students, even if he favored the Slytherins. He supposed if anyone deserved that privilege, it would be Luna.

Snape seemed satisfied with the extent of Harry’s report. He was pensive for a while. Harry wondered if the conversation was at an end, but it was not.

“Shacklebolt has done well as Minister, has he not?”

“Third time in office. He’s very popular,” answered Harry.

“A singularly non-committal response, Potter. Do you not think well of him?”

Harry smiled.

“Quite the opposite, but he is a close personal friend and ultimately, my boss. It would be hard for me to be impartial.”

“Understood. That said, do you feel comfortable discussing the Ministry’s policies?”

Harry was surprised that Snape would value his opinions on these matters, but was not shy about discussing them. They spent the next two hours dissecting the laws enacted since the end of the war, and though they were not always completely in agreement, Harry realized he enjoyed the debate very much.

It became quite clear that Snape was less than satisfied with the state of American politics. His scorn and sarcasm were alive and well, and he put them to good use. Harry, who agreed with him on many points, found himself envying Snape’s scathing wit, sense of irony, and the ease with which he skewered American politicians. For emphasis, Snape sometimes punctuated his sentences with discreet and elegant hand movements. Harry was shocked that he remembered the man’s hands after all these years, the long fingers, the perfectly kept nails. They were beautiful.

Around seven, they ordered dinner from the hotel’s renowned restaurant “Flora and Fauna”. Harry laughed at Snape’s choice of steak and kidney pie and treacle pudding.

“Missed home much, Snape?”

Unabashed, Snape answered in all seriousness, “You have no idea.”

The food appeared straight from the kitchen to the small dining room table by elven magic, a small extra that prevented any chance of it being tampered with during delivery. Harry checked it automatically for charms, curses and poisons anyway.

Dinner was excellent, and the company was the most stimulating he had had in a long time. Harry was having a very good time and could have easily forgotten he was on assignment. He realized that, had he only just met Snape that day, he would have been very attracted to him.

When the coffee arrived, Snape reclined in his chair with the sigh of someone who might have slightly overindulged in the food. He turned his attention to Harry’s face.

“You surprise me, Potter. I always though that, were we to meet again, you would have many questions for me.”

“I have learned that having questions does not entitle one to the answers, sir, and I think that in the years past I have worked out the answers to many of them on my own.”

Snape looked satisfied with that answer. “Would you mind if I showed less restraint and tried to satisfy my curiosity?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“I am surprised you became an Auror. I would have thought your adolescence would have given you your fill of dark wizards.”

“After the war, I went back to Hogwarts to sit my NEWTs. It gave me a year to reflect and to think about the future. Defense Against the Dark Arts was still my strongest and favorite subject. I am well-suited for this job. It is the path I would have chosen had Voldemort not been such a shadow over my teenage years. We defeated the man. Why should I let him influence my choices?”

“And you have found the work fulfilling?”

“Very much so, though I have been considering a change of career in the recent months.”

“How so?”

“Minerva has offered me the DADA teaching position starting in September. She wants an answer by the end of May.” Harry had not mentioned this to anyone and was surprised to feel so open to discussing it with Snape.

“What appeals to you about it?”

“I have had experience teaching in the Aurors’ program, and I enjoy it. Hogwarts still feels like home, and my godson will be in residence for the next six years.”

Snape nodded in understanding. “What makes you think you could hold the post for more than a year?”

Harry smiled. “I don’t believe in the so-called curse. The truth is that none of the previous teachers have had more than a year’s contract. I think some of them might have stayed had they given satisfaction.” Or not been forced to murder the Headmaster, remained unsaid.

“I have given some thoughts to returning to teaching myself,” admitted Snape. He snorted at Harry’s expression. “Pick your jaw off the floor, Potter. My methods might be medieval, but my results are sound.”

It was true, however much Harry hated to admit it. The quality of the Potions education at Hogwarts had never been as high as when Snape taught the subject. The number of his students passing their Potions OWLs and NEWTs remained unequaled. And, after all, teaching at University level might be more to Snape’s liking.

He finally had to ask. “How did you end up in California?”

“Serena Marcos and I had been corresponding for years, our interest in similar research having brought us into contact. When I told her I had decided to leave Britain, she arranged for me to join her research group, under Master Holter, on a temporary basis, for a three month fellowship. I have been there ever since.”

“How do you like it?” Harry shook his head and grinned. “I am sorry. I have to admit I have a hard time picturing you in warm sunny weather…” he chuckled, letting his imagination run wild, “wearing Bermudas and sandals…” he chucked again,” eating wraps and drinking wine coolers…”

“Don’t forget surfing and wearing mirror shades,” deadpanned Snape.

Harry laughed out loud.

“Oh, my god. You don’t, do you?”

“When in California…” said Snape, with a shrug.

“I don’t believe it.” Harry stared at Snape, challenging him to keep a straight face.

Snape sighed. “All right,“ he admitted. “It pains me to be so predictable, but no, I have not succumbed to the California lifestyle. The Potions Lab is, of course, deep underground, in the third basement to be exact. It seemed logical to obtain lodging in close proximity. An underground tunnel can access the library. Research can be demanding. Weeks pass without my ever setting foot outside.”

Harry shook his head again, certain, though he was not sure why, that he was being teased. “I don’t believe that either. I can see how you might want to cultivate that mystique, though.”

Snape smiled, and Harry was surprised at how young he looked when his face relaxed.

“Fine. The truth, then. I have a small house on the beach near Campus. No Bermudas, no sandals, but I occasionally enjoy a stroll barefoot in the sand. San Francisco is not as warm as one would think, but the area is beautiful. I take my vacations in the winter and go to Vermont. It reminds me of Scotland. I do enjoy the wine, though. Californian Cabernets almost make the sacrifices worthwhile.”

“What is your research about?”

Snape crossed his long legs. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out. You will be forced to attend my lecture. I hate to spoil the suspense.”

“When is it?”

“Wednesday, at four. You are lucky you will be on the dais. It will be standing room only.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Steven Harper has a gift for creating interest and excitement, and he did not book the largest room for us for the exact purpose of creating a crowd. It’s the American way. They live for this, their careers depend on it: the Publish or Perish phenomena. Serena's and Steven’s tenures depend on it.”

“What about yours?”

Snape waved his hand dismissively. “I have had tenure for ten years. I improved the Wolfsbane Potion in some independent research, and the University patented it. That’s how it works.”

Snape talked some more about life in the ivory tower of academia and asked pertinent questions about Harry’s work.

They were both a little surprised when Romilda came in, asking Harry why he had not woken her before. It was close to midnight.

Harry got up and stretched. He would have to be fresh and alert the next morning, and the first lecture Snape planned on attending was at eight. He could not remember spending that many hours talking with anyone for years. It looked as if the jet lag had finally caught up with Snape who got up as well. As they said their good nights, Harry tried not to think about how glad he was that he would be seeing Snape again the next day.

In their room, Clarence was stretched in the middle bed, snoring softly. Harry quickly did his evening ablutions, stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, slipped his wand under his pillow and fell into bed.

Snape had changed so little physically in twelve years. He actually might even look younger now that he had in his tenure at Hogwarts. The absence of stress would do that to a man. For a long time Harry had gotten used to Minerva and Filius speaking of Snape’s intelligence, his wide interests and his excellent conversation. He realized he had expected to meet the man they had described and not the caustic and hateful teacher he remembered, and he was glad of it. Some things were better left in the past.


Entering his room, Severus had to admit to himself that he was a bit unnerved. As he undressed, he reflected it had been a very long time since he had enjoyed anyone’s company as much as he did Potter’s. The rash, hostile youth had given way to a thoughtful, intelligent, informed man, with a sense of humor. Their common past added depth to their connection, without the tension he would have expected. That the Auror was physically so very attractive did not help.

He looked at his own reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Sadly, his looks were what they had always been: a beak of a nose, beady black eyes, and crooked teeth; that his teeth were whiter, thanks to the efforts of his American Dental Hygienist, was only a very modest improvement. What did it matter? As far as he knew, Potter was straight. (And twenty years younger than he. And an ex-student. And probably involved with a charming young witch. But very handsome. And excellent company. ) Straight. Definitively straight.

He shook his head at his own idiocy and went to bed, loving the antique four-poster and its heavy brocade curtains, the dawn bolster and pillows, the crisp ironed white sheets. He was asleep in minutes.


When Harry left the Aurors' bedroom at six in the morning, Romilda was asleep. In the suite’s dining room, the three Potions Masters were already having breakfast in Clarence’s company. Harry greeted everyone and shared his intention of making use of the Olympic-size pool on the top floor.

“An indoor pool?” asked Snape. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Harry had no objection, of course, though he would have never pegged Snape for a swimmer. Neither his wife nor his colleague seemed surprised though, so he concluded that it was nothing new. They made their way to the top floor in silence. The elevator opened onto a large atrium decorated with ferns, with doors leading to the changing rooms and a view of the impressive pool.

In the locker room, Harry changed quickly, determinately keeping his eyes to himself. However, once in the main pool, he could not help but notice Snape before the man dove into the deep end and started swimming laps. There was no evidence that he had ever exposed himself to the California sunshine. His skin was as pale as milk. He was very lean, but toned, and aside from his armpits, a dark treasure trail disappearing in his black togs and lightly haired legs, his body was smooth and flawless. The Dark Mark had faded and could easily have been mistaken for an old tattoo.

Snape’s dive was beautiful, rising nary a splash, and his stroke was smooth and regular. His turn was practiced and effortless, and he was already halfway through his return when Harry dove in. As usual, the water felt chilly at first, but after a few laps, Harry had found his rhythm and concentrated on pushing his body hard. Flying was his preferred workout, but was impractical most of the time. He ran, biked, and swam to keep in the athletic shape expected from all Aurors.

A pool half this size and a rather smelly workout room was all that was provided at the Aurors headquarters. There was also an asphalt basketball half-court where the Aurors could be often found shooting hoops. Because of his small stature, Harry was however always at a disadvantage while playing basketball and did not particularly enjoy it. He played one on one with Ron though, because his agility more than compensated for Ron's height advantage.

After fifty minutes, feeling pleasantly buzzed by the endorphins, Harry got out. Snape was already gone. They met again in the shower, where Snape was shampooing his long hair. Harry took notice that the saying about large noses and long hands once again held true before resolutely putting his attention on his own soaping up. Because his hair was very short (or possibly because he did not want to take a chance and find his gaze lingering where it should not), he was out of the shower and dressed again very soon.

Snape stepped out of the shower room with a towel wrapped around his waist and his fingers carding through his hair, looking…well. Seeing Harry was ready, Snape told him to feel free to go on up ahead. Harry reminded him that he was responsible for his security, and though Snape had snorted at that, he went to wait for him in the atrium.

“Thank you for waiting, Potter,” Snape said as they stepped into the elevator. It was Harry’s turn to snort.

“I am aware this is part of your duty, Auror Potter.” Silence took over once again, until Snape spoke once more. “ Thank you for mentioning the pool as well. The workout was refreshing”

Harry could tell an olive branch when he saw one. “You’re welcome.”


Severus was very grateful for the opportunity to work out. There was a long day ahead, and he had not swum in three days. It did not hurt at all that Potter had kept him company. While disrobing, Severus had been treated to the agreeable view of a very fine ass. He had lingered in the shower for a chance at the frontal aspect and had not been disappointed. Aurors kept in shape, and Potter was remarkably well-endowed for his small frame. Now he regretted his indiscretion. It would add a distracting dimension to his already complicated dealings with the younger man. The younger straight man. What a waste.


Everyone was seated at the table when they returned, including Romilda, and breakfast was pleasant. The three scientists were all going to attend different lectures that morning but would regroup for a presentation at 1PM.

“You will be nice, won’t you, Severus?” asked Serena, who looked anxious about the afternoon lecture.

Snape looked at her as if she had gown an extra head.

“All right, then. Will you at least be fair?” she insisted.

Snape sneered. “Aren’t I always?”

Steven Harper giggled at that, as Serena rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you could just…not attend?” said Serena, hopefully.

“That would be disrespectful of our young colleague, don’t you think, Serena?” asked Snape. “No, I would not miss it for the world.”

Serena sighed resignedly. Now Harry was looking forward to it. It seemed there might be other aspects of Snape’s personality besides his constant vigilance that might have remained the same through the years.

Snape and Harry left the suite first. They went down to the Conference room floor by taking the service stairs, a precaution Harry would have recommended, had Snape not done so automatically.

“The quality of the lectures is quite uneven, as I am sure you will notice,” he warned Harry.

“I probably would not know the difference,” answered Harry, honestly. “This is the first conference I have ever attended. In any case, I’m not here to educate myself, but to insure your safety.”

“As you are well aware, I can generally take care of myself. I mostly requested the extra security for Serena and Steven. While I appreciate your dedication, there is no reason for you to completely forgo listening to the presentations, if you were so inclined.”

Harry was surprised and not a little flattered that Snape would think him interested to do so. Snape seemed to read his mind.

“I do not consider you completely devoid of intelligence, you know.”

“Oh! High praise indeed!” replied Harry with a grin.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Well, perhaps I am just interested in a layman’s impression.”

“All right,” agreed Harry. “I’ll try not to fall asleep.”

After they arrived in the ‘Meet and greet’ area, Harry gave no further thought to their discussion. The crowd was dense, and many people made a point to come and salute Severus Snape. Watching them as attentively as he was for possible nefarious intent, Harry noticed a lot of differences in their body language. Some came out of genuine interest or friendship, while others approached him out of obligation, and some with masked fear or outright dislike. It was obvious the Potions Master left no one indifferent.

Snape seemed perfectly at ease. If he was more attentive and respectful to some of his greeters than to others, he did not, in any case, openly insult anyone. He greeted a young scientist from Nigeria with particular warmth.

“Back again, Boniface?”

“Yes, Severus. Will you be there?”

“Will it be worth my time?”

The young man looked a little abashed, but answered enthusiastically. “I believe that this time, it will be.”

“Then I would not miss it.”

The young man left, looking both pleased and nervous.

A tall haughty-looking woman, who stood slightly closer to Snape than was absolutely proper, inquired after Severus’s missing wife.

“I am sure Serena will be here momentarily,” Snape answered, looking around.

Serena made a well-timed appearance and took the hand Severus extended to her in greeting. He pulled her close and deposited a gentle kiss on her temple, the only sign of affection Harry had ever seen between them.

“My dear,” he said, “you remember Master Greta Carlisle, don’t you?”

Serena hesitated just long enough before responding, “Of course, Severus,” to make it clear that she did not.

As they walked away together, Harry heard Snape chuckle to her: “Oh, well done, Serena,” to which she replied, in a very amused tone, ”Doesn’t the woman ever give up?”

“Apparently not. You saved my virtue, once again.”

Romilda gave Harry a bemused look. “Sounds like old Snape has groupies…”

Harry would have never admitted it, but he could very easily see the attraction. Snape stood almost a head taller than anyone else and, dressed in very well-cut, elegant black robes, he cut an impressive figure.

After their second lecture let out at noon, Snape decided to forgo the luncheon and go back to their suite for refreshments instead. Harry was glad. The crowd was even denser than it had been in the morning, a security risk, and Serena, Steven and their escorts had taken their break already and would be sitting at some committee meeting for the rest of the hour.

They ordered sandwiches from room service, took off their outer robes and sat down to eat.

“So, Mr. Potter, what did you think of this morning’s entertainment?”

Though Harry had kept his eyes on the doors and on the other attendees, he had also listened to the presentations. He was not, to tell the truth, entirely happy about giving Snape his opinion. He could easily make a fool of himself (or be made a fool of…). Ever the Gryffindor, however, he forged ahead.

“Well, that first lecture was a little weird. I thought.”

“How so?”

“I understand the Scandinavians have a better female to male ratio in their births, but why should that lead to the conclusion that lower testicular temperature is key to increase that ratio, I’m not sure. Maybe it is just the thought of having to live with a daily cooling charm on my underwear, but shouldn’t they consider other variables before fixating on that one? Could it be the unusual length of the summer days and winter nights they experience that far north, just as easily as the temperature of their…bits?”

“Or their diet, perhaps?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “exactly. Their diet, or the vodka, or who knows what. I mean, they wear warm trousers, no?”

“I certainly would. You have touched exactly on the flaw in their study. They made a hypothesis and only studied the data that supported that hypothesis. The scientific approach was not all that common in the Magical world outside of the study of potions until recently. The magical world has a lot of catching up to do, though things are already much better than just a few years ago. What did you think of Boniface’s paper?”

The subject matter of that second lecture had been potions, so Harry was even warier of commenting.

“I can’t be absolutely sure but his study seemed sound to me. The number of twin births in Nigeria is impressive, and they do eat a lot of yams, and their neighbors, who have similar life circumstances and environment but less yams in their diet, do not have the increased number of twins. The extract they worked with did give positive results on goats. It seems to me they are on to something.”

“Yes, I think they undeniably are. A potion based on that extract could indeed possibly increase the preponderance in twinning and help increase the population. Though,” Snape added in a thoughtful and tragic tone, “anyone having taught the Weasley twins might question the desirability of such a development.”

Harry laughed, and Snape looked pleased his joke had not been misinterpreted.

“Well,” he said, “we should head to the main amphitheater for the piece de resistance du jour.” He did not seem to be looking forward to it, and Harry wondered why. The program showed the next lecturer, a Tamara Holter, hailed from the Magical University of the Pacific, Snape’s own school.

The amphitheater was almost completely full when they arrived. Though Harry could see Serena and Steven had saved a space next to them, Snape chose to sit in the very last row, his back to the wall. Harry approved for security reasons, but he had the impression that they were not what had motivated Snape.

The lights went down and the lecture started. The young woman at the lectern was very pretty, dynamic, and charismatic. Her enthusiasm for her topic was easily transferred to the crowd, and her presentation was entertaining, with a lot of well-rendered colored graphs and pictures.

The longer the lecture went on, the worse Harry felt. He had thought the pure-blood propaganda had been based on prejudice, but it was clear that it had not been the case. All the facts Tamara Holter so eloquently presented showed that pure-bloods had more children, and a higher ratio of girls if they married pure-bloods. The group with the worst ratio of girl to boys was that of pure-bloods married to half-bloods, and the lowest birth rate was that of pure-bloods married to Muggle-borns. Muggle-born numbers were better if they married Muggle-borns, and half-bloods’ numbers were better if they married half-bloods, but still less than those of pure-bloods. The evidence seemed overwhelming.

The lights came back on, and people started asking questions, which Tamara Holter handled with grace and competence. Harry saw Serena turn around to look for Severus, and make her way back to him. She joined them against the wall as the session started wrapping up. It seemed the last question had been asked when Snape started to get up. Serena placed a hand on his arm.

“Must you?” she asked pleadingly.

“Did you and I just attend the same lecture, Serena? Of course I must.”

She sat down, her face in her hands.

Snape only had to stand to his full height to attract attention and refocus the room. For the first time since the beginning of the presentation, Tamara Holter looked tense.

“Master Snape? Do you have a question?”

“Several, actually.” The amphitheater fell completely silent.

“Your methodology shows that you eliminated quite a few families from the survey.”

“Of course. In any research some of the cohort have to be eliminated for different reasons, such as health, inability to be present for the medical examinations, delay in responding to written interviews and so on."

“How large was your sample?”

“Our final cohort was composed of forty-eight families.”

“How many of these were pure-blood?”
“Five”

“So few?” someone commented in the crowd. Snape’s eyes glinted maliciously.

“How many had children?”

“All of them.”

“How many pure-blood families were eliminated from the study?”

“Seven.”

“That’s more than were kept!” was another comment.

“How many of these families had children?”

“That’s irrelevant. They were eliminated for health or other logistical reasons.” Tamara Holter had delivered that non-answer impatiently.

“How many, Miss Holter?”

“None, but…”

“None? Did she say none?” This, from a woman in the front row.

“How many Muggle-born families were eliminated from the survey, Miss Holter?”

“Twelve. All families eliminated from the study were eliminated for valid, thoroughly documented reasons…”

“How many of the Muggle-born families eliminated had children, Miss Holter?” interrupted Snape.

“Twelve, but…”

There was some general grumbling heard from the crowd. An older wizard asked Tamara Holter for clarification. ”Did you say seven out of seven of the pure-blood families eliminated were childless, while all the Muggle-born families eliminated had children?"

“Yes, sir,” Tamara Holter repeated, “but it was entirely coincidental…”

Snape now asked in a deceptively soft voice: “How many of the half-blood families eliminated had children, Miss Holter?”

There was a slight pause.

“Nine.”

“I see,” said Snape. “Nine out of how many?”

“Nine out of nine.”

“That’s preposterous!” exclaimed the older wizard.

“What about the pure-blood/half-blood families…”

Tamara Holster raised her voice: “As I said, it is irrelevant. All families eliminated from the survey were eliminated for logical reasons…”

Changing track, Snape asked: “Before these eliminations, Miss Holter, how large was your cohort?”

“We started with a hundred families.”

“And you eliminated fifty-two?”

“Yes.”

“For logical, indisputable reasons?”

“Yes.”

“Coincidentally removing from the study any childless pure-blood family?”

There were some laughs in the room. Tamara Holter ‘s hands were so tight on the podium that her knuckles were white. She did not bother answering.

“I noticed something interesting about your colorful graphs, Miss Holter.” Snape added in an almost conversational tone, as if on second thought, “The x and y axis units were widely disparate. It seems to me it would make a very small difference in number appear to be quite important. What statistical method did you use to ascertain the significance of your results?”

“Statistics are a Muggle science, Master Snape,” Tamara answered disparagingly.

“Yes, indeed. One of their more useful sciences, like mathematics or logic, neither of which you seem to have any grasp of either,” commented Snape, his remark once again followed by laughter while he stroked his lower lip, smirking.

His expression changed to that of cold disdain before he continued. “The only thing you have clearly demonstrated here, Miss Holter, is your criminal lack of ethics and complete deficiency in personal integrity.” His voice was lethally soft, but carried effortlessly to every corner of the room. “This,” and here he gestured to include the podium, the screen behind her and the paper on her desk, “is the vilest propaganda, nothing more. It is certainly not science.”

“How dare you…”

“Well, I’d have to agree with Master Snape,” voiced in the older wizard who had asked her for clarifications earlier, effectively cutting off her strident retort. There was a brouhaha of agreement from the rest of the crowd.

Snape was not done yet. “You may feel free to prostitute your name for the advancement of your and your father’s racist agenda, Miss Holster, but I will be damned if you drag the reputation of our University along with it in the mire.”

Snape looked at the young woman behind the podium with a sneer of disgust and added, sadly, as if speaking to her alone: “Such a low level to which you have fallen. How… disappointing.” Severus Snape turned away from the red-faced young woman whose eyes were full of tears, and walked out of the room in a flurry of black robes.

“You seem well-acquainted with her research, Master Snape,” inquired a black-bearded wizard with penetrating eyes who had fallen in step with him and Harry.

“Until five months ago, I was Miss Holter’s thesis advisor, “ explained Snape.

“What happened?”

“Yes, Snape, what happened? Did you take inappropriate advantage of this young woman?” asked a younger blond wizard holding a Quick-Quotes Quill.

Snape dismissed this assertion with a snort so full of scorn and ridicule that the blond looked as if he had been slapped. The black-bearded wizard added to his embarrassment by asking him: “Do you work for the Scientific Wizard or for Witch Weekly, man? Have you not heard a word he’s said, or was his meaning beyond your comprehension?”

Snape answered the original question.

“Miss Holter’s thesis advisory was taken over by Barnabas Holter, her father.”

“Are you not a member of Holter’s Potions department?”

“I am.”

“But you have always done independent research, especially since you got tenure, correct?”

“That is correct”

“And you are the only other researcher besides him in the department to have received tenure, aren’t you?”

“You seem well-versed in our university’s politics, sir.”

“I am an reporter, Snape. I too do research. We did not all start out as gossip columnists for the Witch Weekly…”

Snape nodded and walked away.

They did not attend any more lectures that afternoon, but went back to the suite. They had only had time to sit down and order tea when Serena and Steven joined them with Clarence and Romilda in tow.

Serena was livid.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?”

Snape looked at her coolly. “Did you actually expect me to listen to her spew this kind of rubbish without commenting? Do you realize the possible consequences of this type of misinformation in the current American political climate?”

“He is right, Serena,” added Steven. “It’s the bread and butter of those idiots in Washington.”

“Steven, don’t you dare take his side!” She turned back to Snape. “And you, don’t you pretend you did this for the greater good. You and I both know you only did it as part of your ongoing little feud with Barnabas! This was yet another way to get under his skin!”

Snape did not even attempt to deny it. “Well, that was an added benefit, yes…”

“You humiliated her! You destroyed her career!”

“She deserved to be humiliated!”

“Why? Because she chose her father over you?”

“No, because she chose what was easy over what was right; because she does not deserve a career if she caves in to pressure instead of standing by her results. She is a bright woman. She might learn something from this.”

“Don’t you dare pretend you did this for her own good, Severus! You did it out of spite!”

Snape’s face was a bored mask. “Serena, we have known each other for so many years. Have you ever known me to have only one motivation for any of my actions?

“Of course I did this because I hate her father. But I also did it because letting it go was unconscionable. I did it for the good of science, and I did it to humiliate her. I did it because I am unforgiving and spiteful, and I did it because it will help her in the future. I did it because this type of bigotry is a poisonous gangrene, and I did it because I am cruel and enjoyed watching her cry. There. Does that cover it all satisfactorily?”

Snape picked up his cup and took a sip of tea. Serena’s face was a battlefield of contradictory emotions. Finally, she turned away, walked to her bedroom, and slammed the door.

“Well,” commented Steven, “that went better than I thought. She forgot that after tomorrow, the whole thing will be moot, which really makes your viciousness today completely pointless. You are lucky she does not think logically when she is upset.”

Snape shrugged and said, “It was not pointless. I took great pleasure in it.”

Harry drank his tea in silence. Snape was still a vindictive bastard. He had hated the man for it throughout his childhood and adolescence, but to find out it was still true did not seem to rekindle that feeling.

He realized that part of becoming an adult was to learn to accept certain things, like the unfairness of life, the indifferent passing of time, and the reality that people were not perfect. If you could not take them as they were, you should just walk away, because they would not change.

Apparently, Steven and Serena, like Albus Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, and Minerva McGonagall found enough redeeming qualities in Severus Snape to accept the less attractive aspect of his nature, and Harry started to recognize that he probably did also.

Snape interrupted his thoughts. “She had made you swallow her tale with her smooth rhetoric and her pretty pictures, hadn’t she?” he asked.

“Hook, line and sinker,” answered Harry honestly. “It was terrifying. I am glad you said something. It was like waking up from a really bad dream.”

Snape looked surprised at his candor, but nodded, as if it confirmed something for him. “Thank you,” he said.

Steven Harper wanted to attend one more lecture that day, and he and Clarence left shortly thereafter. Romilda finished her cup of tea and asked Snape if he thought Serena would go anywhere before dinner. Since his answer was negative, she decided to go take a nap. Before she entered her room, however, she turned back to Snape.

“You know, sir,” she said, “there are not many women who enter the Aurors’ training, and out of the ones who do, a lot of them leave pretty fast. Some of the instructors don’t think this is a job for witches. They do everything they can to make us quit.” She smiled. “They never did impress me much, though. None of them ever even came close to your level of malice. I always thought I should thank you, if I ever got the chance, for being such a bastard at Hogwarts.”

“I did not do it for your benefit, Auror Vane. I did it because I enjoyed it.”

“Have you ever been known to have only one motivation for any of your actions?” she answered with a grin and closed her door.

“Cheeky chit,” said Snape with a smirk, as Harry burst out laughing.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in easy and pleasant conversation, each of them interested in the other’s passions. Harry had remodeled and sold four houses in twelve years, starting with Grimmauld Place and Godric’s Hollow, and continuing from there once he found out how much he enjoyed it. Snape had discovered cross-country skiing during his vacations in New England and loved watching hockey, the only sport, in his opinion, that rivaled Quidditch in speed, violence and danger. They both loved Indian food and had both visited Japan.

Several times, Harry thought how much younger Snape looked now than he had twelve years ago. Maybe it was his eyes. They were not the flat black he recalled, but had depth, warmth. Maybe it was the new way he wore his hair, which highlighted his bone structure. They spoke again of the possibility that Harry might join the Hogwarts staff.

They all had dinner together. The tension between Snape and his wife seemed to have completely disappeared, and Serena was lively and funny, telling entertaining campus stories. Harry could see how a person could find her attractive and did not like that much.

After dinner, Snape went to his room to practice his lecture, though both Steven and Serena insisted he was ready. Harry decided to go to bed early, but once alone in the room, found it impossible to fall asleep. The three scientists had been completely tight-lipped about the next day’s presentation, but it was obvious it was going to be momentous, and he could not help wonder what it would be about.

He recalled again how easily he had been taken in by Tamara Holter’s misinformation and was taken back to a time where he had so harshly judged people who shared her beliefs. She had been a complete stranger. How much easier to believe would her lies have been, coming from someone he trusted? He thought back to Malfoy, who had taken the Dark Mark at sixteen. He had thought him so blind, so gullible. He could not wait to tell Hermione about his eye-opening experience.

Though he had placed a Silencing Charm to cut down the noise of conversation from the living room, he finally went to sleep almost believing he could hear Snape’s deep, hypnotic voice through the partition.


Severus entered his room with a sigh, thinking back on the day’s events. He had always despised the social aspect of the meetings. Through the years, he had learned to navigate the waters with assurance but had never developed a taste for it. He usually tried to avoid the entire bothersome duty completely but knew that, as the Keynote speaker, and for the good of his team, he had to be present.


The first lecture had been a complete waste of his time. The scientific method evidently remained a stranger to the Scandinavian wizards. He was very pleased with Boniface’s lecture however. The young man was one of his former students, and he had taken him to task the previous year for his sloppy research. It was pleasing to see that he was now living up to his potential.

Through it all, Severus had kept an eye on Potter. Had he actually counted on the man for his safety, he would have felt very confident. Potter was obviously experienced and conscientious, his state of awareness impressive. Severus had been pleasantly surprised and not a little impressed while speaking with him over lunch. Though security had seemed to be foremost on Potter’s mind, he had also managed to pay close attention to the lectures and get the essential points out of the material presented.

Contrary to his assertions when Potter was his student, he was well aware the young man was intelligent, and it would have been essential that, as an Auror, he develop a critical and analytical mind. In view of their tumultuous past, that the young man had felt free to discuss the lectures with him had been rewarding.

Potter had also admitted freely to being taken in by Tamara’s propaganda, which showed some courage. More than ever, Severus was glad he had overruled Serena’s wishes and demolished the girl’s pseudo-research in such a public manner. If someone as sharp as Potter could be taken in, it didn’t bode well for the average wizard.

He wondered what Potter would feel, were he made aware of Severus’s high opinion of him. Probably nothing. After all, the man seemed self-assured and confident, beyond needing anyone’s approval.

Severus would have very much liked to spend another evening in Potter’s company, but since everyone else was staying up, it did not seem meant to be. He decided to concentrate on his presentation instead. He felt quite ready, but wanted it to be flawless. He wondered what Potter would think of it. Severus halted this train of thought. Why in the world should that matter?

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