7

Chapter Seven: Harry's Eighteenth.

The house was crowded on the 31st of July. Harry turned eighteen today, and even he was surprised. He knew birthdays with his friends could be fun, but considering he was never actually here when he'd had them, he wasn't expecting it to be quite as big. He'd never seen so many decorations before—despite Christmas time at the Weasley's.

There were balloons and streamers everywhere, things floating from magic, playing music. Even all the photos were clapping and dancing along. Harry just wore a grin from ear to ear. It was amazing! He'd never felt more loved.

Birthdays at the Dursley's were hardly that. Even when they found out about Harry being a wizard, they still made it clear that they owed him nothing. His uncle would give him an old sock or a shoe that wouldn't even fit, or match the other. His aunt didn't even make him a cake. Instead, he was still to get breakfast and dinner ready for the family, still getting his small rations.

The most exciting birthday, of course, had been when he'd met Hagrid on his eleventh birthday and found out he was a wizard. It was also the first time he'd gotten a cake! That was something he'd never forget. And of course, the next birthdays with his friends.

But today, considering he was turning eighteen, well, it was a blast!

Although Harry wasn't one to like rowdy rooms with people drinking and making a ruckus, he was more than grateful that he was surrounded by people he loved, and that made all the difference in the world.

He'd woken up to Ron shouting a happy birthday to him, and then he'd been swarmed by the Weasley family, gifts and cake going around the table on the bottom floor or the house. They all sang him a wizard song that wasn't anything like the cliché Happy Birthday, instead, it was filled with names of old, famous wizard and creatures.

Eventually, the party began to die down, and some of the Weasley's had headed to bed. He'd been thankful for the gifts he'd been given and the cake. He'd gotten some nice new knitted clothes from the Weasley's, some sweets from Ron, and some books from Hermione. Each and every one of them he appreciated more than anything.

Sitting outside in the grass, Ron and Hermione were with him, Fawkes scratching around in the grass as a fire was in between them.

"It's been great. Thank you," he said, Ron asking him how the day had been. Ron gave a bit of a gawking look and Hermione just laughed. He really did love it here.

"Well, I guess it's better than your aunt and uncle's," the red headed boy said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, I love it here, honestly," he insisted. He knew Ron didn't see his home as much, but to him it was absolutely brilliant. "I hope I can come here every birthday."

"You know you can!" Ron pushed, more than happy to have his best friend here. It seemed a bit weird, though, not getting into trouble anymore. In a way, he missed it a little. But he was more than happy to have his friend and girlfriend here with him.

At the sound of wings flapping, all three of them looked up, an owl approaching in the distance of the night. As it got closer, Harry perked up a little, Fawkes watching as well. It was a Snowy Owl, and for a moment, Harry wished it had been Hedwig, but he knew that wasn't the case.

Landing, the owl's great amber eyes looked at him, a letter attached to its leg. The owl had come to him, so clearly the letter was for him. He lifted his hand and took the letter, unscrolling it. Immediately he knew who the writing belonged to.

H. Potter,

I understand that I informed you that you could have Fawkes for the holidays, but I regretfully need him returned. In return, you may keep the owl that has brought you this notice. Her name is Spells (unoriginal in my personal opinion, but the keeper said she's quite accustomed to it now) and I've been informed she is related to your previous owl—a few generations younger. Consider it a birthday present, and an appreciation for saving my life.

S. Snape.

"Well, what's it say?" asked Ron, his eyes eager. Hermione was curious too, leaning over a little as the owl stayed.

Looking up, Harry didn't know what to say. He felt almost lightheaded, his heart pounding in his chest. He could also feel his cheeks burning horribly, once more thankful that it was dark outside.

"It's… from Snape," he said, looking up to Fawkes. "He needs Fawkes back."

"Typical," Ron muttered.

"What about the owl? He's not making you pay, is he?" asked Hermione, noticing the owl was still sitting there. Usually they waited to be paid, or if something was to be sent back. But if this was just to deliver a message, usually they dropped it off and left.

"He… said I can keep her, as a present…" Harry murmured, surprise clear in his voice. He looked at the owl as Ron snatched the letter from his hands, not believing him.

"Blimey…" Ron murmured, his eyes wide as he read the letter a few times over just in case he read it wrong. He showed Hermione, and she just looked at Harry.

"Well… you did save his life, Harry," the witch said, shrugging her shoulders a little. Of course, she was watching her friend intently now, watching for any kind of signs to how Harry felt about all of this. They hadn't even spoken properly since Snape had been attacked and gotten better, but she doubted that was Harry's fault. Snape wasn't one to 'get to know' easily.

Harry just looked astonished, his eyes going to the snowy owl (known as Spells) that waddled over and nibbled on his fingers. She was related to Hedwig? It must have been a brother or sister who had had owlets later down the years. She had a striking resemblance to Hedwig, though, and he liked that.

Lifting his hand, he gave her a small pat on the head, and she seemed to enjoy it.

To his knowledge, Hedwig had never had any owlets, so he was definitely a relative of hers. He didn't even know she had any family! How Snape did, he had no idea… Did Snape actually go looking for this information? Did he purposely choose this owl for him?

Harry's chest felt like chaos inside, as well as his head. Snape had gone out of his way and done something nice for him. So he needed an owl to send the letter, but he could have borrowed someone else's. And Hermione said he'd once had a raven, although if he was favouring Fawkes, it probably meant the bird had disappeared or passed. Even so… giving him an owl? This was the second time he'd been given an owl for his birthday. Hedwig from Hagrid, and now Spells from Snape.

"You gunna keep her name as Spells?" asked Ron, giving the letter back to his friend. He didn't know how he personally felt about Snape giving Harry a gift. Not to mention they helped. He felt a little cheated, then again, he wouldn't trust something from Snape. It would probably be poisoned or cursed.

"I dunno… I think I'll keep it as Spells if that's what she likes," said Harry, the owl fluffing up in approval. "I'm not very good with names, to be honest… and I think she likes it, so Snape said."

Ron shrugged, not minding, and Hermione nodded. "It's up to you, Harry. She's your owl now," the girl said, giving a gentle smile. She leant her hand out and patted the owl, Spells giving a gentle nibble to her fingers.

Mrs Weasley soon came outside with a candle in her hands. "Come along now, dears, you best be heading into bed," she said in her best motherly voice.

She gave a curious look to the new owl that was sitting with them. "What have you got there, Harry?"

Standing, Harry let the owl up onto his arm, Fawkes now on Hermione. "I got an owl for my birthday, Mrs Weasley," he said. "Well, I guess it was more a convenience if anything. Professor Snape needed Fawkes back, and he said I could keep her."

Molly's eyes widened a little. "Well… how generous," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "Well, I'll have to send the perch back tomorrow morning. I hope he doesn't mind the delay. Hedwig's old cage is still here, so the new one can quite easily stay there in your room—if you're okay with that, dear?"

"Of course. More than happy, Mrs Weasley," Harry nodded, looking to Fawkes.

They headed inside and Harry took both of the birds into his room. Already they seemed to be more than friendly with one another, nibbling and preening each other. He was worried Fawkes may have gotten jealous. He knew Hedwig had when he'd talk or play with other birds.

Harry smirked, walking over to his trunk to grab out some parchment. He'd have to write to Snape saying that the perch would be delayed, just so he knew. And grabbing his ink and quill, he scribbled down a small thank you before rolling it up.

Walking over to Fawkes, he gave a sad smile, but he knew it wouldn't be the last time he'd see him. He still had to give Professor Snape his potions book back, and he'd give him a personal thank you for Spells. He also needed to talk to Snape about Potion lessons.

Knowing that his score hadn't been enough to get into Snape's class before (and only got in it before of Professor Slughorn), he doubted this new year he would make it into the Potions class. But if he wanted to become an Auror—which he did—then he'd have to ask how he could get into the class.

He had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy. Actually, Snape was very strict, so he had a feeling that he wouldn't even get a position at all. But maybe if he asked Professor McGonagall then she could persuade Snape into letting him into his classes.

Wrapping the letter around Fawkes' leg, Harry gave him a small goodbye pat. "I need you to go back to Professor Snape, alright?" he said, the bird's eyes looking at his. He knew Fawkes was listening, and he knew he'd get right on it.

Harry smiled gently. "I'll see you when school starts, I promise," he grinned, leaning in and giving Fawkes a small kiss on the soft forehead feathers. Fawkes gave a chirp of approval before he flew off and out the open window. Harry watched, hearing a new set of wings as Spells landed on the perch that had been used for Fawkes.

"Sorry, girl… I don't have any owl treats here, just what Fawkes ate. You can go hunting if you like, though. There should be plenty of food out there in the field," he noted, giving her a smile. He took her onto his arm and leant her out the window. Within a swift movement, the snowy owl was gliding over the field surrounding the Weasley's house.

Leaving the window open for her return, Harry got out Hedwig's old cage, which would now be home to Spells. Although she wouldn't sleep in it tonight, he figured he would set it up anyway before headed to bed.

Once he was done, he brushed his teeth, changed into his pyjamas and went to sleep.

*****

Things hadn't only been confusing for Harry Potter these holidays. Back at Hogwarts, Severus Snape found himself sitting in the headmistress' office, McGonagall out.

Standing with his arms by his side, he approached the portrait of Dumbledore that was sitting up on the wall that he'd seeked guidance off after he'd killed the man.

It hadn't been the first time he'd been here since the start of the holidays. Since his wounds were healed now, he'd been up and around the castle quite a few times. Seeing Albus, if only in a portrait, was still a comfort to him.

Even if Dumbledore had never been clear with his actions, and it pissed Severus off to know he'd been used—as well as Harry—in many ways he was still loyal. He had to be. Dumbledore had taken him in when the Dark Lord could have killed him, as well as Albus.

He'd spied for this man, he'd put his life on the line for Potter, and yet… he still came back. Because Dumbledore, despite his actions, had been there for him. He'd helped him. He'd taken him in. He'd allowed him to have a career here at Hogwarts, even as a former Death Eater and follower of the Dark Lord. And in many ways, Dumbledore was more of a father than his own ever had been.

"Back again, Severus?" said the man in the portrait, his blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon glasses. "I hope you haven't come here to ask for forgiveness again. You already know that I asked you to kill me."

Snape merely leant a hand against the desk, his head down. "You used me, Albus," he said rather darkly, his eyes looking up. "I do not blame you for your actions, I walked right into them. I told you I would do anything for you, and in turn, I have."

Severus knew Dumbledore had rubbed his crimes in like salt in a fresh wound, and he did it quite often. Saying that he owed Lily. He owed James. He owed Harry. He did not deny that he owed each and every single one of them, but what did he owe them now? Why did he have to continue living this life? He had no happiness, and now he was starting to have a strange liking towards the boy? Harry was fine! He didn't need protecting any longer! Why make him stay?

"Then why are you here?" asked the older wizard, his eyes looking down to the pale man.

A helpless sigh came from Severus, the man sitting down into the chair that was behind the office desk. McGonagall hadn't rearranged much, which pleased him. He hadn't either. Dumbledore had had a fine office, and there wasn't much need for any kind of fresh decorating.

He'd already told Albus about what he'd experienced in what he thought was the afterlife. Albus, like always, didn't say much, or at least help him in any way. He'd just said that just because it was in his head hadn't meant it wasn't real. Some help that was.

Severus was beginning to think it was just a dream. Lily would never truly forgive him. Not for putting her life, her husband's, and her son's lives in danger.

"I seek your guidance. Understandably, I recognised what my role was when you were alive. To protect her son. But now that he is not in need of protection, why do I have this overwhelming urge that I still need to?" he asked, leaning his hands onto the arms of the chair.

Albus gave a sparkling smile. "My dear boy, we both know through Harry's stay here at Hogwarts that you've learnt to care for him," he said, as if it were obvious.

"Albus, I am hardly a boy," Severus noted rather aggressively. Despite feeling as confused as one right now, he was a grown man! Although the older wizard had used him, Albus had still been a mentor and a friend to him. He still owed him his life.

Dumbledore could have killed him that night he had told the Dark Lord about the Prophecy. He could have killed him any time during his stay at Hogwarts, but he hadn't. He'd owed him a debt, and he'd taken that into his hands. His own devotion to Lily had clearly made him trustworthy.

Albus was never able to save Lily, but did he see that as Dumbledore's fault? Hardly. He'd been the one to tell the Dark Lord of the Prophecy. If he hadn't have… maybe Lily would still be alive. Her death was his fault. He knew it deep down—even if it was Peter Pettigrew who had given the whereabouts away and betrayed all of them.

Dumbledore gave a light chuckle. "I've seen you grow from a boy to a man here, Severus. You are still much younger than I. Therefore, you're still a boy to me," he said, inclining his head when Severus rolled his eyes.

"That's beside the point, Albus!" snapped the Potioneer. He stood up, pacing the room with his hands behind his back, his robes flowing behind him. "What does he need from me? Now that the Dark Lord is gone, why should I stay here?"

The wizard in the picture frame just watched. "Why are you here, indeed, Severus?"

Snape stopped pacing, turning his head over his shoulder almost fiercely. He hated when Dumbledore did that! He was asking for assistance and guidance here, and all Albus was going to do was ask him questions that he didn't know the answers to? Infuriating!

"Even in death you're a pain in the rear end," he muttered. He turned, though, putting a hand to his forehead and expelling a sigh, his other hand sitting on his hip.

He knew why he was still here. His whole life had been here at Hogwarts. This was his life. Teaching. And before that it was obviously protecting Harry Potter and serving Dumbledore the best he could. Was that all he'd been? A pawn? Could he be nothing else than that? And now that there was nothing left, he'd just wither away?

"Severus, each and every person in the world has some kind of purpose to be here," said Dumbledore, Snape's dark eyes looking back at him. "Lily wanted you here for some reason." He peered over his half-moon glasses. "I have a feeling you know why."

To protect the boy, obviously. But he didn't need protection! "The Dark Lord is gone, Albus!" he stressed, brushing his fingers through his hair for a moment. He gave an exasperated sigh, looking at the moving picture on the wall.

"You seem quite worried about this, Severus. I haven't seen you this upset since I told you that you must kill me," the bearded wizard mused. "It seems that you've truly come to care for the young man after all."

A scoff came from Snape's throat, looking away from the other portraits. They all seemed to lean in eagerly now as he folded his arms and turned. He arched a brow.

"Severus?"

"Yes?" snapped the younger man, his robes swirling as he turned around.

Dumbledore put his hands together as he sat in the seat in the portrait. "Is there… something you wish to tell me?" he asked gently, his eyes peering over his half-moon glasses once more.

All of a sudden, Severus found himself as stiff as a board, all the eyes in the room on him.

"No," he said, his hands coming out before he put them back by his sides.

There were a thousand things he wished he could tell the man, and yet, why bother? Half of them probably made no sense, and Dumbledore certainly didn't need to know about them.

He remembered the day Potter had stood up for him, and he tried to push away the fact that his body had reacted so strangely towards the whole thing. Thank Merlin that McGonagall had come in. If not, he had no idea what may have happened.

Sure, he was a man, he knew all about sexual frustration. He'd never dated, he'd been loyal to the love of his life even though she was never his—even after her death. She was the only one he'd ever loved. There had been no one else.

But did that mean he didn't become weak from time to time? Of course he did. He was only human. Everyone fell to the temptation sooner or later. Besides, it was a completely natural thing. It became rather painful if something wasn't done about it, and as much as potions could subdue the feeling, there was only enough he could take before finally giving into human nature.

He pushed the thoughts aside the best he could. Right now was not the time to be thinking about such things. Especially when it involved such a little prat like Harry Potter. He was just going to blame that on his loneliness and nothing more.

"Well, perhaps you should consider that maybe Lily thought Harry could help you, Severus," spoke Dumbledore once more, considering he wasn't going to get an honest answer out of the professor this evening. He would be sure to ask Minerva about Severus' and Harry's action later when she came back.

Snape stiffened again, looking up at the portrait. "Now I'm convinced you're mad," he muttered, though hearing a light chuckle from Albus.

"Besides the point that we are speaking of such a highly unlikely event, what could Potter possibly need to aid me with?" he asked, raising a brow rather sarcastically as he figured he'd had the old man pinned.

Albus put his hands together once more. "I think the both of you could aid one another greatly in more ways than one," he said, Snape's brow going back down.

By now, Severus was getting rather impatient with the man's antics. So Harry Potter was a powerful wizard, but it was a shame the fool didn't know how to harvest and use it like he did his own. Harry was just a boy still. He hardly thought he could help him in any way possible.

"School will be starting soon, Severus, and I imagine there will be many new young witches and wizards who would love to get to know Harry."

Snape scowled mentally. Of course there would be. He was the famous Harry Potter. A celebrity star for everyone to have a piece of.

He rolled his eyes once more, turning to walk out of the office.

"Lily was right, Severus."

Snape stopped almost immediately, his robes hitting against the back of his legs and swaying. He looked over his shoulder, waiting for the man to speak again.

"Goodnight, my boy. Sleep well."

Gritting his teeth, the Potions master left the room, knowing it was nearly impossible to get much sense out of Dumbledore. Even when he was working for him the man never made anything easy for him. All these twisted words that made no sense. Why couldn't he just state the facts and be reasonable?

That just wasn't Albus Dumbledore.

Returning down to the dungeons, Severus removed his outer robes, tossing them onto the lounge in his sitting office. Fawkes had returned, and was sitting on the perch that had been delivered a few days back from the Weasley house.

He didn't know why he bothered going to Dumbledore for any kind of assistance anymore. The man never gave him anything useful. Or at least anything that made much sense. Then again, what more could he expect from the old wizard?

And yet, he still trusted his judgement and would follow his orders until death. Dumbledore may not be alive anymore (but in a portrait in the headmistress' office), but… it was the only thing he had left. And like said before, he owed the man his life, until he was dead himself.

Walking over to Fawkes, who he'd come quite accustomed to by now, he lifted his hand and rewarded the bird with a gentle pat on the head, Fawkes cooing into the touch. And now that he was alone, he let a rare smile crease his lips before he retired for the night.