A Thousand Fibres

Chapter Eleven

Margaret's meeting with the Weasleys went well, to Harry's relief. He wondered why it seemed so important to him, before shrugging off the question as unimportant.

Fred greeted Margaret in typical Fred fashion. "So, you're the one Harrykins told us so much about."

Ron was always exasperated when the twins butchered his own name like that, but Harry had always found it funny and touching. The twins had accepted him into the family without blinking, seeing him as yet another younger sibling - and as yet another potential guinea pig for their experiments.

"So you're the business partners Harry told me so much about," Margaret answered, without missing a beat. "Chief pranksters. Bane of all the teachers of the world."

George looked at her, then at Harry. "I like her," he said decisively. "She can stay."

And, just like that, Margaret entered the Weasley family. She took everything in stride - Charlie and his passionate fifteen minutes lecture on the latest Hungarian Horntail he had studied, Bill and Fleur, Ron's earring and his five year old son, a genius who could already read complicated theoretical books and who wanted to talk about nothing but Potions, to Ron's dismay.

As she was preparing to leave, late that day, she said, "I can see why they adopted you."

"They've adopted you too, now."

"Good," she said.

They smiled nervously, and Margaret waved before Apparating away.

When Harry went back inside, the twins looked at him knowingly, making Harry feel vaguely self-conscious.

* * *

To say that a few students came to say a last goodbye to Albus Dumbledore would have been like saying that the Hogwarts students were a little afraid of Snape.

There were over five hundred people at the funeral, which took place at Hogwarts - on the Quidditch pitch, for lack of space inside.

Harry was with the Weasleys - a sea of redheads all around him. He saw Snape watching the kids warily, just as Hermione was leaning over to whisper in his ear, "The oldest one will be eleven in two years. And then, all the others..." She giggled, and put a hand to her mouth. "I shouldn't laugh."

"Why not? I'm sure Dumbledore would have found that hilarious."

She nodded. "He would, wouldn't he?"

The funeral was long - there were many people who insisted on talking, most them making Harry want to roll his eyes. The Minister, praising Dumbledore's achievements. The leader of the Auror's division. A few deputies to the Minister - including Percy, and from the angry hissing all around him, Harry could tell that he was still at odds with the rest of his family.

A few former students. Three influential people who seemed to have bought their way to the stage, unwilling to let go of such a public tribute. Listening to them, painting Dumbledore as a demi-god, Harry wondered if they had known anything at all about the man.

Minerva and Snape were last. Their speeches, sincere and to the point, were the only ones that moved Harry.

When it was finally over, and people began to leave, Harry said to Hermione, "He would have hated most of that, wouldn't he?"

She nodded. "I think he'd have preferred us drinking tea, eating sweets, and trying to get Snape to lighten up."

A shadow looming behind them made Harry smile. The man truly had a knack for sneaking up on people when they least wished it. "Professor," he said, without turning around.

"Potter. Granger."

Hermione stuttered, blushing. Ron approached them, and put an arm around Hermione's waist, taking her away. He hadn't even greeted Snape, and Harry wondered what had happened. As if reading his thoughts, Snape said, "He's a little angry about a comment I made, stating his son would be in Slytherin." He paused, and added as an afterthought, "Unfortunately."

"Ah," Harry said.

"You're not even going to argue the point?"

Harry smiled sardonically. "I think you're right, and I told Ron so. He's... desperate, I think, would be a good word for it."

He saw a journalist photographing him, and he resisted the urge to flinch away. To his relief, the press hadn't been too much of a hassle. They seemed content to report news about the funeral, about what Dumbledore had done, who he had been, and hadn't paid much attention to Harry. But still, there were photographers who couldn't spot him without immediately wanting to take his picture.

"You seem well," Snape commented.

Harry looked up at him, covering his surprise. "Yes, thanks. So do you." It was true. The man was aging relatively gracefully, and seemed more relaxed now than he had been during Harry's school years.

Snape nodded. "I assume you have felt no more ill effects from the time I last saw you."

"No. I would have written, if I had."

"You weren't always known for your ability to take care of yourself, Mister Potter."

"People change."

"Indeed."

There was a pause, and Harry couldn't decide if it was comfortable or not. "I'm teaching," he offered to break the silence. "And I now wonder how you could stand us."

"I couldn't, if you remember."

Harry smiled. "Well, you didn't kill us."

"Not that I wasn't tempted."

"Of course." He frowned a little. "Why did you continue to teach, after Voldemort's death?" he asked. "You seemed to hate it so much."

Snape seemed surprised at the direct question. "Access to one of the best libraries in Europe. Loyalty to Dumbledore. Possibility to experiment."

Harry nodded. "Okay." He shuffled a little, feeling like a ten-year-old in front of his former teacher. Snape could make grown-ups feel like they were waiting to know what their detention would be about, Harry realised. Dumbledore had had the same ability. But Dumbledore had always been welcoming and kind, while Snape clearly despised most people. Harry wondered again why the man had taken the time to advise him in his last year. "Why did you talk to me, in my seventh year, when I was-?"

"Hyperventilating all over the hallways?"

"It only happened once," Harry protested.

"One time too many," Snape countered. "And the reason I did, was because you were a student, I was a teacher, and contrary to popular belief, I am not a monster."

"I didn't think you were," Harry pointed out.

Snape raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to convey a world of doubt in the single motion.

"Well, you insulted me five minutes after meeting me, what did you want me to do? Be grateful?" Harry asked.

"Hardly. I didn't care what you would do, Mister Potter, and that attitude may have been appropriate had I been dealing with another student, but you had the potential and the abilities to do much worse than any other student."

The words hit him like a punch in the face, and Snape scowled. "Your godfather's death was caused by a number of people, Potter. The Headmaster should have been more open with you, instead of coddling you and sparing you the harsh realities. You should have been more assiduous. Black should have been more careful. Lestrange should have been interned. And I should have remembered that you would be asked to save us all. And that you had to be prepared for that." He sneered. "The Headmaster was too kind, I was too harsh, and you learned nothing that would have helped you to prevent what happened."

Harry clenched his teeth. "Yeah." He looked Snape in the eyes. "All of which doesn't answer my question."

"I don't admit to culpability often, Mister Potter."

"I know."

Snape considered him silently for a moment. "I talked to you because I realised no one else would - either because they were convinced you were fine, or because they didn't dare approach you. I talked to you because you freed me from the worst consequences of an error I made when I was your age. I talked to you because I hadn't spent seven years watching your back so you could trap yourself in a job you didn't like and end up killed because your heart wasn't in it. I talked to you, Potter, because, much as it pains me to admit, you were, indeed, different from your father."

Harry forced his jaw to close before it reached the ground. "I see," he said faintly.

"I assume that half hour of my life didn't go to waste?"

Harry smiled. "No, it didn't. Thank you."

Snape nodded formally.

Minerva was coming to see them, and Snape sighed, "I must leave now, and go talk to people who are even more insufferable than you are."

Harry nodded, biting back a smile. "Yeah. I'll go back to the Burrow, all the others are gathered there."

Snape looked horrified at the very notion. "Good bye, then, Mister Potter."

"Good bye, Professor, and thanks again."

Snape bowed slightly and joined Minerva. Harry waved at her to say goodbye, and she answered in kind.

Then, he went to the edge of the wards and Apparated to the Weasleys' home.

* * *

It was late. Most of the Weasleys had left or gone to bed a while ago, leaving only Ginny, Ron, Bill, Hermione and Harry in the kitchen.

The discussion had long since left Dumbledore, and what they had got up to at school.

Ginny had talked a lot about her job - head editor in a women's magazine. Bill and Ron were trading stories of their respective jobs as curse breakers. Ron's talent at chess had been a huge asset in his job, he told Harry. He needed to analyse a lot, to be able to plan ahead. He had been offered a job in Egypt now, and Harry and Bill regaled him with stories about the country.

"How do you like teaching?" Hermione asked, as the conversation began to die down.

"I was expecting it to be like the DA, you know," he said. "But it's more tiring, and fun, too."

"That would be because you're not teaching these kids to fight for their lives, mate," Ron said.

Harry snorted. "You may be right."

"Are you planning to stay in the US, then?" Bill asked.

Harry bit his lip. "I honestly don't know," he said. "This year, at least."

Hermione said, "We miss you, you know."

"I miss you guys, too," he said sincerely. "I still look for you, sometimes, when I want someone to come play Quidditch, or to help me research something. Or even when I want to talk."

"But you have friends there," Hermione said.

"I do. And they're good friends, and I love them a lot. But..."

"It's not the same thing," Ron said.

Harry shook his head.

"Yeah. I made friends too, in my job, and Hermione too, but those years in Hogwarts were special."

Bill intervened. "You guys are lucky. I didn't stay in touch with most of my friends from then."

Harry smiled. "The circumstances were special," he said. "There was a lot of pressure on all of us, and there was always the occasional madman out to kill me and/or us."

"Yeah, we became friends by knocking down a troll," Ron said, laughing.

"And that was just our first year," Hermione added, giggling.

Harry, thinking back on it, couldn't help but laugh too. The monster's head had almost reached the ceiling, and they had been tiny first years. And they had been so scared, and yet, remembering Ron, levitating the troll's club above its head, was priceless, now.

There was a small pause, as everyone sipped their drinks. Bill and Ginny took the opportunity to bid their farewell. "Job to do tomorrow and all that."

So, in the end, it was just the trio again.

"We were wondering if you'd come," Ron said. " I know you had a complicated relationship with Dumbledore."

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "I think he wanted me to forgive him."

Hermione nodded. "Of course. He was responsible for a lot of what happened to you."

"Yes."

"What about you?" she wanted to know.

"I think I needed to forgive him, too," he said. "To be able to move on, I suppose."

"Hadn't you before?" Ron asked.

"It's never really done, Ron. There are always things that keep you back, that remind of what you lost. Or what you gained, really."

"It was a step forward," Hermione said.

"Yes."

"Good then," she said. "We were worried when you left, and even more when you didn't come back to live here."

"There was never any doubt to me that I would come back, Hermione," he said. "There still isn't, for that matter."

"But your life over there-"

"Is great, and fun. And I have friends, and they're good people. But still, I think that if I stayed there indefinitely, I would really run away."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What does Margaret think about it?"

Harry tried to make himself stop blushing, without success. "There's nothing between Margaret and I."

"Yet," Hermione threw in. "And even if there isn't, well, she's not your only friend there."

"I never hid the fact that I would come back here. They know what to expect."

"Doesn't seem to bother her, at least" Hermione commented.

"I hope not. But then, what's to stop us from living a few years over here, and a few years over there?"

"Could you do that?"

"Why not?"

"What if you have children?"

Harry laughed. "Hermione, we're not even thirty. A wizard life-expectancy is roughly 150. We have time to move around a little, don't you think? And Margaret and I both went to boarding schools, and enjoyed it, so chances are our kids would go to one, too."

He then wondered when it had gone from "There's nothing between Margaret and I" to "Our kids could go to boarding school." He blushed. Ah hell...

Ron smiled, ignoring Harry's discomfort. "You sound pretty relaxed about it all."

"As you are about Egypt," Harry answered. "Hermione will follow you and work from there. And for now you're here, and who knows where we'll all be in five years?"

Hermione raised her glass. "To travels," she said.

They all cheered, and drank some more. And talked, for hours, catching up and making plans for the future.

* * *

As the plane, the *Muggle* plane (Harry had had enough of WizAir for the month, thank you very much) touched down, Harry smiled. He would be back one day, he knew. He had travelled around the world for five years without ever doubting it, and even now, with a new home and a new job, and friends, he knew that sooner or later, he would go back to England.

It wouldn't help to agonise over the when and how, he thought.

What would come would come, opportunities or failures. He would deal with both as well as he could.

And in the meantime, he had friends and a family, to help him through the rough patches and to celebrate with him.

He had gone through the formalities and was about to hail a cab when a flurry of movement caught his eyes, and he spotted his friends, waving at him, smiling cheerfully.

He smiled and waved back, and when he reached them, they hugged him.

For now, he was home.

THE END